This pleases me.

Bobo then turns to see himself in the mirror, and he strikes a stunning 'Shoot the Moon' pose that shows his bristling musculature to great effect. He turns to the camera, and tosses the AYOOYFM belt over his shoulder like a candy wrapper as he fastens the PGC around his waist.

Hello, my intended.

Well, here I am. The Pan-Galactic Champion. Interesting. Now, regarding the end of that match...

There I was... Sitting in the corner, lulling that big goof Voss into a false sense of security after 'playing up' that ridiculous Gen-X ripoff move... And here he was, getting ready to do that pathetic 'Bronco Buster' that the 1-2-3 Kid still uses as a Finisher, and he starts in on me... Now, there I was, waiting until the last second to bring up the big boot and save us all from future generations of Voss, and someone yanks me out of the way... Voss slams into the ringpost crotch first, so I suppose the effect was the same as I'd intended, and I pretty much dump him on his head for the win... Now, personally, a piledriver is hardly what anyone except Paul Orndorff would call a Finisher, and since he's got Alzheimer's he don't count. Just a little setup move for the astonishing bone-wrenching wave of offense that Voss was due for his hubris...

Here's the rub, though... I grab his leg for a nice ankle twist or knee wrench, and someone counts a three... Odd, I think, but the referee isn't known for his SAT scores, so I look to the side and there's the Big BOSS handing me the belt and raising my hand... Also odd, I think... So I took a look at the tape...

Lemme tell ya... This did NOT please me. Bobo Q. Fiendish does not win via swerve. He doesn't need to... There isn't a man-jack in this - or any OTHER promotion - that possesses the raw power, ring generalship, and martial prowess that raise the Angel of Death to his Most Exalted status. I prove this time and again as those that are too stupid to fear such as I get their heads handed to them, and everyone else runs for greener pastures. Niege-13? Ran away. Doc Plants? Jobbed a gimmick match to be SENT away. Voss? Well, he got his head handed to him, didn't he? Somehow, the Boss thinks that such as I should be rewarded for bringing the  more difficult prima donnas to heel, and I'd normally agree... However, this...

Bobo unbuckles the PGC and holds it in front of him.

Is hardly what I would consider reward. I mean, really, it's 18-karat electroplate... In short:

Bobo Q. Fiendish will not accept this belt. Period.

By now, Voss has shrieked and shrilled about this... injustice, and I have to agree with him. Voss couldn't beat me on his best day - with all three of his friends - if I had the flu, and we all know it. This belt suggests otherwise, and for that reason I will not - CAN NOT - accept it. Give it to Voss if you want... Burn it if you want... When I choose to take it away from him, precious little in his repetoire will dissuade me. He hits like a girl. Or, more to the point, like all the OTHER girls. But I digress...

Bobo drops the PGC on the floor and then picks up the AYOOYFM belt and puts it on.

THIS is my belt. I EARNED it. More to the point, it's FAR better descriptive of the champion that wears it...

Now to business... It seems that Doc Plants has crawled back into his part-timer position, and has further chosen to align himself with Chow Min and Booze Kelly. This pleases me. Some folks might wonder why the good doc did such a strange thing, but it's clear enough upon reflection. After all, if I said the sort of things to Bobo Quite Fiendish that the Doc did before his banishment, I'd look for all the friends I could get when I came back, too...

However, I note that there is precious little voice possessed by the others in the locker rooms - the chaff, as it were, but I digress - and the powers that be are at a loss to understand their thunderous silence. Allow me to enlighten you... Were it anyone BUT the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED girded by that Pan-Galactic Belt, there would be scrambling amongst these lesser beings to vie for it. Sadly, since it IS the TRUE Dark Angel that is so bedecked, and so honored AFTER annihilating what was considered the best - if not brightest - this fed had... Well, you can't expect alot of volunteers for a suicide mission, can you? No, clearly not...

So what does that leave you? A champion nobody is foolish or deluded enough to think they have a lottery-level chance against. A Swiss Army Belt, and this ludicrous Pan-Galactic rubbish... Sure, some people try and puff up and make noise and whatnot, but it's all vanity... Your troops are demoralized, Boss... THEY know they can't beat me. I always knew they couldn't beat me. The only one that seems fuzzy on the issue is you... Why? Even the lowbrows and mugwhumps in the STANDS know that there is no equal for the horrifying splendor that is... The Angel... of DEATH... MOST EXALTED. Listen to them when I come down the aisle once in a while... I get more cheers than your Super-Face - much to his guitar swinging chagrin, I add, but deign to digress...

Bobo picks up the Famous Sock-o-Swag and twirls it non-chalantly.

Now, some in the offices might think that this is wrong... This pleases me. Mayhap the powers that be will grow pensive regarding the dawning ramifications of opening one's doors to such as I... Possibly even seek to retake their 'power' through force...? Well, the sad truth is that such people who are used to things going as planned are reluctant to even seemingly relinquish their power. In short, they fear change... And with good reason...

Bobo brings the Famous Sock-o-Swag down on a stack of cinderblocks, and they shatter into dust under the apocalyptic force of the dreaded calf-high three-striper. Bobo then turns the sock upside down, spilling an eclectic grab bag of assorted coins onto the rubble.

Change can be painful... Heh.

Consider notice served that any attempt at reprisal for refusing this belt will be met with a belt of a much more drastic nature... Tell you what... Since nobody in their right mind will face me, let's have a tourney. Top seed, let's see... Since Voss ALMOST won, we'll toss him a bone and give him Number One... Who's Number Two? Easy. The man whose very existence makes you think nothing BUT Number Two... Dr. Plants. Number Three? Hmm... I guess Viet Enarian or whatever the hell his name is will do, considering he's an ex-champ who was beaten by both the top seeds... Number four? Hmmm... Roster's lookinga a skosh thin here, so I'll take a shot in the dark and give Number Four to Paddy O'Furniture... Everyone else can bicker about where they stand from five to ten - assuming they've not already fled to someplace safer by comparison... Say, Libya, for instance... Heh.

Now, Boss, we can play this one of two ways... You can have Cooperation, or you can have Opposition. Cooperation will mean I won't do my level best to turn whatever meatbag you toss into the ring with me into a thick, red paste... Opposition will mean that the next place you lead this ragtag mob will be from the front of the Wheelchair Convoy. Hope you make the right decision...

You're welcome... See you SOON.