The time comes where all of your hard work and dedication starts to pay off for you. You work hard do the right things and what the hell stuff starts to work for you. People backstage like you and the fans love you. You are a instant sensation. You get paid alot of money to excite people all around the world. You go in the ring night after night to build up your reputation. If you are lucky you MAY even get to main event a match. When you get to that level you have reached PRIMETIME.

<We are taken inside a luxurious library filled with books on every row which seems to lead out into timeless space. The building is that of a Gothic Cathedral motif. The camera begins walking down the halls of the now occupant-free building, scanning many of the greatest books ever written which are displayed on the tables in random order; Mutiny on the H.M.S. Bounty by Willing Bligh, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger, Pet Cemetery by Stephen King and Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare are just a few amongst many other great novels. As the camera spans the place, an opening appears behind a collage of shelves which features a podium, as well as many chairs and table situated in front of it. There at the podium, stands The Fanch, who receives a huge ovation from the crowd watching this on the IWF Tron. He clears his throat and begins to read from what appears to be notes as well as a few books as references.

Fancher: Holden Caulfield, the narrator of The Catcher in the Rye, begins with the novel with an authoritative statement that he does not intend for the novel to serve as his life story. Currently in psychiatric care, this teenager recalls what happened to him last Christmas, the story which forms the narrative basis for the novel. At the beginning of his story, Holden is a student at Pencey Prep School, irresponsible and immature. Having been expelled for failing four out of his five classes, Holden goes to see Mr. Spencer, his History teacher, before he leaves Pencey. Mr. Spencer advises him that he must realize that "life is a game" and one should "play it according to the rules," but the sixteen year old, who has already left four private schools, dismisses much of what Spencer says... He goes through a series of events in which he does not like things about people but can't help but record in his mind what people say and do, and base judgement on such. He ends the story not telling us how he got sick and how ends up in an institution. Instead, he says he simply misses those that have passed through life that are not there with him now, even when things were not always so good.

The Fanch stops reading from his notes and looks into the camera which adjusts itself to a standstill position.

Fancher: For all reasons accountable, Lewis, you are Holden the confused teenager, while I'll play the role of Spencer, the History teacher, since you seem to be lacking. A history lesson would do you some good. For one thing, I have indeed lost, boy. Did you get that? Let me repeat it because to me it sounds vaguely important. I have indeed lost, boy. I have been beaten, Jonathan Lewis. Get it? Good. Nick Young-of all people-has in fact pinned my shoulders to the mat once in the past. Even though there was some outside influences, nonetheless a pinfall against me occurred. And I learned from it. I lost the title shot recently, sure. But I did not lose. I simply did not win. There's a difference there that you're just not comprehending. You seem to wreak of failure. One of your crowning achievements will be a match with me. Not for nothing, I'm one of the greatest. And as far as you becoming a tag team champion. I don't know of anyone else who would arrive so fast and think he's a sure thing. Wait. Come to think of it, I do know of someone who fit that description... ME! And you're not me, so don't think you can follow in my foot steps. The shoes are too big for you. You might be along for the ride to gold, but you'll be getting thrown off before it comes to a complete stop.

Fancher clears his throat and coughs. He begins looking on a sheet of paper, looking for the next bit of what he wanted to say. Once he finds what he is looking for he returns his eyes to the camera and speaks on a whim, candidly.

Fancher: I heard you've been trying to find as many old tapes of me wrestling as you possibly could. Well, pretty much, if you've seen me win one, chances are the same end occurs in the next, and the next, and so on and so forth. If you want an apology; fine. I'm sorry Jonathan Lewis. I'm sorry for being so fucking good that I have a very low losing record. I am so ashamed of my talents and skills in being able to whoop everyone who gets put in front of me. I should just kill myself right now! Pffft!

The crowd laughs at Fancher's sarcasm.

Fancher:If you want to know more about Holden and such, read Catcher in the Rye. Aside from that, I'm going to tell you, LEWIS, just how your story ends. I'm going to beat you and Brother Justin into submission. You're both going to take beatings because there can't be any other turnout. Lewis, I'm stating now that you could be a great Champion-in the future. But right now, is still my time. My spot in the sun has not come to an end yet and I won't be leaving until I'm ready to. So until I move on, you'll need to deal with always being less than the best. Tha Roc is compromised of the Top Dawgs around here. And since you're not wearing a team member shirt, I suggest you get used to the idea of not being noticed. You are in this dance because of me, not you, me. Without a tie to me, you wouldn't have gotten shit.

Fancher very blatantly rolls his eyes, while still trying to keep his composure.

Fancher: I just can't get that out of my head-that you've admitted to be obsessed with the notion of what will become of you should you actually get a win over me. You must have been keeping a close eye on Nick Young's career, since it's definitely all gotten better since that day of the tournament when he stole a three count of my shoulders on the mat. It's done wonders for his story. And thinking greedily, you think you deserve the same huh? You think it's your turn to use The Fanch to run amuck in the top rankings-well no Sir. Not happenin'. This hasn't changed anything. I'm still officially done with letting anybody slip by me as you and Brother Justin is trying to do. That type of bullshit fell out of season a long time ago with watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire and thinking Teletubbies was ok for children to watch. Get a new life, and return the one you bought for cheap.

With a thunderous pause in The Fanch speaking, you sort of get the feeling that he's tired of these guys and will do what necessary and right in beating the hell out of his combatants. With that, the crowd applaud, acknowledging having felt his words thus far.

Fancher: And now, on to Brother Justin... Better known as never shows up Justin... I am glad to see they did finally decide to let you out. And yeah, I did think my plan out thoroughly. I knew you'd get out soon enough. And it wasn't to keep you away from me or Laura. It was to keep you out of harm's way. It's been apparently the month of you refusing to show up to TNT or PPV's. But instead of getting a contract in here, I thought I'd help you out unofficially. See, I know your days are numbered as are Lewis. You thought even less about your plan. I don't bother with reruns like you. The only reason we're even fighting is because you and have yet to even fucking fight man. The reason we didn't fight already was directly having to do with why I retaliated. Your winning record is oh wait you dont have a single win my bad. You're a chicken shit, Justin, and everyone in that arena and everyone else around the world, sees it too. So don't think for a second that you're in control. 'Since day one' you have been the one being played. I'm an immovable object that's going to bring your career down more than one notch when I get done with you. You haven't shown us shit yet Justin, aside from being able to piss people off here and there. Mostly annoyance, but nonetheless they've been pissed. You really enjoy talking shit or not talkin at all, but you rarely ever back it up. You spew more insults at your own friends than any of us. Not to mention you spend most of YOUR time getting high. Not necessarily a message you should be sending out. But I forget, you're a moron. So setting a good example for the younger viewers seems meaningless to someone like you. Someone who doesn't comprehend the basic fundamentals to life.

Between sentences, Fancher takes a quick breath, using that moment of hesitation to switch topics on to something else that bothers him and everyone else about Lewis.

Fancher: Get your fucking head on straight or stay home. If you're going to run off at the mouth and speak nothing but wrong information, don't bother coming into work. You might as well take an entirely undeserved vacation and disappear. Move out of state and into a new home. Do something constructive with your, life for a change... And you want everyone to look at you while you say you're the 'next' number one contender... Well face it, Lewis, I'm already the number one contender to every title here. This tag title match is just a formality. The end has already been decided. By whom? ME! I'm not going to let either of you take MY titles from me. I'm going to be honest in saying it would kill me to see either of you actually in a tag title-anywhere, let alone in IWF, my home away from home. Candidly, you're both mediocre. Your comments are both general poorly thought. When put your ugly faces on television, you come at me verbally with every you've got. But the problem is, what you have is not much at all. Once you realize that, the better the both of you will be. It's just a shame your cell count is already so low.

Fancher sarcastically shakes his head from side to side. Fancher rolls his eyes, having thought of something else that ticks him about Lewis' way.

Fancher: And shit. Lewis. You think that you can actually wrestle one match and then come down and beat me in a 2nd match? What kinda second rate wrestler do you think I am?

Fancher blinks rapidly and shakes his head a few times as if to try and figure this out by letting some cobwebs exit his head.

Fancher: Not to mention you fuckin' said that TNT is your chance. If you have nothing to prove than what chance do you need? You really don't have a clue about what you say, do you? Again, you remind me of some lameass burnout-pardon the word use-some burnout college stoner with no life and no girlfriend. And if you're that hard up, I'm sorry, but in Canada, prostitution is against the law. Maybe you could head back to Nevada when your shot at the tag title comes swirling down to a halt. But remember this very important lesson... Young learned it and has tried to pass it on to everyone he can, in the back; Always where a condom, and don't put cheez whiz where the sun don't shine.

Crowd laughs hysterically, applauding him.

Fancher: I would normally end my segments speaking about the person or persons that I have to deal with the soonest. In this case, since they are pathetic, they don't deserve that respect. Instead, I just want to say something about Chris Madison and what I have been hearing that he is leaving after this TNT. What the hell is this Chris? We are suppose to be the unstoppable force here in IWF. Just so you know if you dont show up for this match I will come where ever you are and put my foot up your ass.

Scene scrambles, fading to snow. Then, it shuts off without thought.