Hours after the Shane Jackson/Adam Azure ICWA World Title Match at Critical Mass.

A local Louisiana hospital.

Shane is laying stomach down on an examination table. His wrestling tights are pulled down to his ankles exposing his ass. The paramedics wrapped his ass in gauze and bandages because, frankly, they didn't know what else to do. They rushed him to the hospital minutes after Adam Azure violated him with the firecracker.

As Shane lays on the bed a doctor carefully examines his injuries. Every few seconds the doctor makes a note on Shane's chart, and then proceeds on with the exam.

Doc: Well Mr. Jackson. I've taken a close look at the damage that Bomb did. I have to say you are lucky. It could have been much, MUCH worse that it actually is.

Shane's been laying on the bed for over two hours. He is tired, angry, hungry, and in pain.

Shane: Are you about done looking at my ASS? You've been staring at it for 20 minutes. And what's with you and my chart? What were you doing? Making a diagram.

The doctor looks at Shane rather puzzled.

Doc: I thought you knew that hospital policy is to make a thorough documentation of all our patients injurues.

He shows Shane the chart. Shane lets out a sigh of disgust as he notices the pictorial the doctor drew of his butt.

Doc: It's for insurance purposes.....mostly.

Everything after the match has been forgettable. The ride in the ambulance was painful and bumpy. The wait in the emergency room was long, and painful. The doctor, his examination, and the diagram are all nauseating and painful.

Shane outs his head down on the bed. He uses HIS ICWA World Title as a pillow. If there is one merit for this night it's that Adam failed to get what he desired most. He hurt Shane in the process, but he still failed. As Shane restes his head on the title he starts smiling.

Shane: Alright doc. How extensive are the injuries?

Doc: Your cheeks took the brunt of the explosion. They are going to take the longest to heal and will cause the most discomfort over the next couple of weeks. Most everything else has only 1st degree and mild 2nd degree burns. Like I said before, you're lucky. I suspect your opponent didn't have enough time to shove it in as far as he wanted to. When the Anal Bomb exploded your cheeks ended up taking quite a bit of shrapnel.

Shane: What's all this mean for me competing? Will I be able to fight this Monday?

Doc: No, no Mr. Jackson. I've already talked to your boss John Miller. I've advised that you not fight this Monday. You need to give yourself time to heal. You should be able to fight next Monday, but just be careful you still won't be at 100%. I would recommend that you not push yourself too hard when you return.

Shane: I can't compete this Monday? Do you know what THIS Monday is Doc? Do you?

The doctor shakes his head.

Shane: THIS Monday is MY birthday. MY Birthday. This only comes around once a year, and you're telling me I can't entertain my fans on MY special day.

The doctor nods his head.

Doc: You can't fight this Monday. Now I'm done with my exam. I will give you some mild pain killers for a few days to help you with the pain. Before I discharge you though I want to talk to you about how to take care of your injuries.

Fade to black before anything else is heard.

Sunday, March 3

Late night on a snow covered ski hill. The lift is turned off, the patrons are gone, the hill is silent.

Shane stands at the top of the hill. Dressed in his Blue Jackets winter coat, Doc Martin boots, and grey cargo pants. The ICWA World Title is gripped tightly in his left hand.

Shane: Critical Mass is over. I won, but I lost. I retain MY title, and Adam couldn't accept that. The GOD he believes he is couldn't accept the fact he's greatly faulted.

Shane's voice echoes down the empty hill.

Shane: I'm sure you've seen the Top Stories on the CWF homepage, Adam. The "Most Hyped Match of the Card". Feels good doesn't it Adam? The last sentence pegged it right. This is FAR from over. You can expect me to return the favor soon. You're starting to realize what I'm capable of.

At the bottom of the hill sits the dark, and empty ski chalet. When morning comes it will be full of skiers, snow boarders and thrill seekers.

Shane: Kool-Aid was fun, Coke was great, and Mr. T is still cool. I don't know what I'm going to do next, but you can expect it's going to have the Jackson signature.

He flips his ICWA Title up onto his shoulder.

Shane: What have you got to say about my ass, Adam? I know you're going to start in with the jokes. I would if I had done it to you. Come on Adam. I want your best. Make postage stamps with pictures of my ass on it. Hire a bunch of midgets to appear on explosion with inflatable, fake butts. Replace your entrance video with shots of you cuffing me to the ropes and getting me with the Anal Bomb. I know you want to Adam. Do what ever you want. You got me. Use it.

Shane starts slowly descending the hill. He's using the edge of the hill closest to the lift. The snow there is still very rough and there's lots of sand and dirt below it from hill workers walking up and down it.

Shane: Right now the thing that's hurting me the most isn't my ass. It's that I'm not going to be at my best for Explosion. Monday is my birthday. March 4th. A day that has always been important. Every year I look what I HAVE accomplished and what I WILL accomplish. It will truly mark a great occasion. MY birthday in MY year. So far I don't regret much that's happened in the "Year of the Natural Wonder".

He's nearly at the bottom of the hill.

Shane: I'm still ICWA World Champion. Your dreams of Unification are stalled. Are you going to try for MY title again or are you going to change gears and go after Bob Decot?

As he reaches the bottom he turns and looks back up at the top. He can see the spot where he stood only a short while ago.

Shane: I've got many catch phrases. More than anyone else in this federation. Our match has given rise to another.

Turning away from the hill, Shane starts walking toward the parking lot.

Shane: You think you've done good? You think you've done well? Kiss my red ass I'll see you in hell.

Everything fades to black as Shane climbs into his rented Acura.