Mr. Vox sits in his office, deals with some important looking papers. With two fast knocks on the door and no waiting for an answer, Car Das enters the room.
Car Das: “Sorry, Mr. Vox, you got a minute?”
Mr. Vox: “Sure, if you really make it short. I’ve got a hell of a work. To manage a whole PPV on ones own ain’t no walk in the park, you know.”
Car Das: “Sure, sure. But let me tell you, you’re making a great job. The arena is cram-full, the fans can’t wait for the show to start.”
Mr. Vox: “I thought a man like you doesn’t need to suck up to others.”
Car Das: “Well, that’s not what I had in mind. I have two questions for you. First, why do I have to go against Tom Carter Jr. again? He ain’t no match to me, even in a Steel Cage. I deserve better.”
Mr. Vox: “The people liked your Hardcore-Match against him, so I just give the crowd, what the crowd wants. And, by the way, the match is made, there is no way, to change something that close to the start of the show.”
Car Das: “I see, that’s ok with me. But I’ve got another question. Where, oh where, is the DWW-Heavyweight-Championship? Look, tonight, there is a new Rookie-Champion to be crowned, a Tag-Team-Championship-Match, which is good, fine and well. But I ain’t no Rookie. And I ain’t no Team player. But what I am, is Championship material. I want to be recognized as one of the best ever. But to be the best, you need gold around your waist. So tonight, I am busy, but you better do something about that!”
And again, not awaiting an answer, Car Das storms out, leaving the General Manager confused and with a lot to think about.
