Butcher Calls Pedro A Tosser.

[Butcher.]

Butcher could still feel that cripple's hand imprint on his cheek. Last Pride, Butcher left flustered and humiliated. Some say it was what he deserved given the fact he decided to turn his rage against someone such as Josh Mitchell. Butcher, he didn't care what those ingrates thought. One way or another he was gonna get that gimped twerp a beating of his life. Butcher sat outside on a park bench, rubbing at his cheek. Darby was nowhere to be found, someone picked up what Butcher had said, something about getting smashed until morning time. So Butcher sat alone, in the dark, colorless, wet North Carolina. 

BUTCHER: Let me get somethin' off me chest, eh? Me and that boy ain't finished with our lil conversation! Didn't think he had the stones to do what he did. Stung that slap right did. But believe me boy, I believe in "an eye for an eye". You might think you're quite a big man hittin me in me gob and then dashin' off like the tiny shite you are, BUT WE AIN'T THROUGH!!! 

Butcher winces, holding onto his jaw a bit.

BUTCHER: So management's keepin' me off your arse by givin' me a match. I get to play nice with some geezer, while I deal with another little twit in Pedro Gonzales who can't seem to keep his trap shut. Gets high and mighty that he got a win over me. What a bunch of rubbish. Might be because the git thinks I don't have a lot of bite because they teamed me up with the geezer, eh? Well, I'm sure the geezer'll be quite enough for two pint sized lady boys runnin' around tryin' to play fight. 

Butcher leans former a big.

BUTCHER: Let's be perfectly clear here, you boys are gonna get your arses handed to you with a side of black pudding. David and Goliath's is rubbish, because if that bloke was smart, he would've stepped on that tiny bugger like we're gonna do to you lot. The faster me and this old geezer Hank Simmons finish ya off, the faster I can get me hands on that gimp Josh Mitchell. If you just so happen to get in me way, the repercussions are gonna be quite nasty, that I can promise you. So why don't you boys go play fight somewhere else, eh? Don't want to send you back to your mummies with bad boo-boo's now do we? Why don't you leave the real men to do real work and just PISS OFF!!

Butcher scowls a bit, he shakes his head and stands up.

BUTCHER: I can't do this, bloody hell I need a drink. Think that bloody kid made me bite my tongue.

Butcher continues to talk to himself as he walks off camera. The lens keeps in focus of the wet bench Butcher sat on and then begins to fade off into darkness.