Fade in to the halls of a museum, an art museum. Hanging on the whitewashed walls are hundreds of different pieces of visual stimulation. These pieces aren't historical art. They aren't pictures painted by Van Gogh or Rembrant. No pictures of Whistler's Mother or Picasso's Blue Period. This art museum is dedicated to the new wave of art, the weird and strange. It's the type of place you'd see a giant fiberglass carrot or a single red dot in the middle of a white canvas. "New Wave" art is the mainstream for the 2000 decade.

Against one of the white walls stands a portion of a brick wall. There isn't anything distinct about the bricks, or the way they are assembled. It's just a section of an ordinary brick wall. A little white buisness card is taped to one corner of the brick wall. Written on this card is the name of the art piece and the artist who created it.

Standing next to the brick wall is Shane Jackson. He's dressed in a navy blue suit with a maroon shirt and a dark purple tie. Out of character, with the rest of his appearance, is a backward Cleveland Indians hat on his head. He stands their waiting and watching as people swarm around the gallery looking at all the various exhibits. Several art critics slowly wander the halls of the museum making evaluations of the different pieces. Eventually they reach Shane and his brick wall.

Critic 1: My, my what's this?

Critic 2: It appears to be some sort of wall.

Critic 1 looks at the name of the piece on the white card.

Critic 1: Rothchild's Wall. Interesting.

Critic 2: I think that the artist is attempting to make a statement about the society of today. He's saying that we are all building walls around ourselves.

Critic 1: You really are an idiot. That's not at all what he's saying. This piece represents the deepest inner thoughts of man. The artist is saying that we guard the deepest, most vulnerable, parts of ourselves by building walls to keep what's part of us inside.

Shane stands there listening to the two critics picking apart his exhibit. After several minutes of standing silent he finally speaks up.

Shane: Alright, that's it. I've taken about as much of this as I can stand. Do you two want to know what this is? Do you!?!

Critic 1: Fine give us your opinion. I doubt you'll be even close.

Critic 2: I'll listen but I can assure you, you have no idea.

Shane: This is a brick wall. It's not any stupid observations about the world or thoughts. It is a brick wall, it's never going to be anything other THAN a brick wall.

Critic 1: Yeah....right. Then why is it called Rothchild's Wall. The name Rothchild implies that this wall has something to do with the outside world.

Shane: Rothchild is a god damned wrestler. THIS wall is the one he keeps walking into everytime he opens his mouth.

Critic 2: Right. I'm sure that's what it means.

Shane: No, I'm serious. If you look closely you can even see a little dirt from his nose from the last time he walked into it.

Critic 1: Uh huh. You know sir why don't you go and have some cheese n' crackers and leave us to do our job.

Shane: Oh, oh yeah. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Shane Jackson, the guy who made this....brick wall.

The two critics look at each other, with red faces. They quickly move on to another exhibit without saying anything else to Shane.

FTB

Fade in. Shane is standing on an asphalt basketball court, in an empty schoolyard. He's still dressed in the suit he was wearing at the art exibit, minus the tie. In his left hand he holds a basketball with the Cleveand Cavs logo on it.

Shane: You out there Rothchild? You paying attention? Good. I want you to know something....putting words in someone's mouth doesn't make what you've said for them important. What do I mean?

Shane bounces the basketball a couple of times before holding it again.

Shane: To my memory, until now, I've never said anything to you. I've never mentioned your name, never talked to you, never even said 'hi' to you. I find it a little strange that you've compiled so much from nothing. If I've never said anything to you how could I possibly make fun of your moniker? Strange isn't it?

Shane begins walking down the court bouncing the ball with his left hand. He switches the ball over to his right hand, as he keeps walking.

Shane: If you want me to say something about your moniker I will. I've known many other wrestlers that call themselves "Extreme Icon". You aren't the first and you won't be the last. One thing I've learned by watching so many "Xtreme Icon's" and "Xtremists" is that it's pointless. In wrestling terms the word "Xtreme", basically, means 'suicide with a steel chair'. Everyone wants to be the next psychotic superstar. They want to be the ones being bodyslammed on nails and thrown through panes of glass. You know what? Good for them and good for you, Jason. Go ahead and kill yourself in the middle of the ring, I won't be out there trying to bring you back. It was your choice, not mine. Anyone can call themselves an "Xtreme Superstar" and then wrestle in a Texas Deathmatch. There's no skill involved in beating your opponent with a 2x4 until they pass out. Like I said "Xtreme" is pointless.

Shane continues walking down the court until he reaches the top of the key. He stops behind the free throw line and holds the ball.

Shane: You don't like people who run their mouth. Coming from you that's a contradiction. You've already said more that I have, since I've been here. Seems a bit inconsistent to me. BOOM! There's that brick wall you walk into.

Shane takes a moment to prepare himself before he takes a shot at the basket. He lines up, plants his feet, raises his arms and shoots. The ball doesn't go in, it bounces off the front of the rim and nearly returns to Shane. He only has to take a few steps off the free throw line to retrieve it. Once he does he returns to the top of the key.

Shane: You want me to bring my A game to Shattered Dreams? I will. You want to offer the salt for me to rub into your wound then go ahead. Like you said yourself you want no hesitation when it comes time to rub it in. I can promise you...I have no reason to hesitate. There's more I have to say to you Jason, but first I want to mention someone.

Shane prepares himself again and shoots the ball. It hits the sweet spot on the backboard and drops through the net.

Shane: The Rock. I'd like to know what he has to say. What Rock? What do you have to say to me? I notice that you have two matches at Shattered Dreams. I know you don't want to fight in a 3-way match with Jason and I. Do you? C'mon Rock, I know you've got a lot to say about Rothchild and Jackson.

As the ball falls through the net it hits the pavement and bounces a couple of times before coming to a rest. Shane walks foreward and picks up the ball.

Shane: I don't know when The Rock is going to start pointing his words toward his second set of opponents for Shattered Dreams, soon I hope. There's only so much of Jason Rothchild I can stomach. His incessent ramblings are becoming annoying.

Shane flips the ball up on the index finger of his right hand. He spins it on his finger as he continues talking.

Shane: I find it funny, Jason, that you are talking as if you know me. Do you? I don't think so. BOOM! Another brick wall. Hmm, I wonder how many more you're going to run into? Not too many I hope. It would be a shame for you to mess yourself up before we meet.

Shane rolls the basketball off his finger and lets it hit the ground. It bounces back up to his hand. He turns and starts walking back toward the far end of the court while dribbling the ball.

Shane: Straight up, Jason, the Cleveland Express plans on running through you and The Rock at Shattered Dreams. You've got two options. You can stand in it's way and meet it head on, or you can jump and clear and hope for the best. I really want you to meet me head on Jason. You come off as somone who I can get a good match out of.

Shane walks down to the far end of the court. He turns around and faces the net he had been shooting at earlier. He picks up the ball in one hand, takes a couple of running steps and fires the basketball at the far net. It flies down the court, hits the top of the backboard and falls clear of the net. It doesn't even tounch the rim.

Shane: I didn't think I'd be able to make that shot. You win some, you loose some. What's it going to be for you Rothchild?

FTB