That's the way I see things. Keeping my friends close is great, having fun and partying about twice a year can be fun. But even more fun than partying with friends is beating up an enemy that you've hated for so... so... long. And well, that's the case with me. I've waited a while for this to happen you know... I've waited a while to get my hands on T.J. Hix at full strength. You see, this Hix fellow has been a nuisance to me, a thorn in my side even. At the last Wednesday Night Flatline is where it all started. It started with him eliminating me by throwing me over the top rope. No big deal right there. Then the next time I fight him at World Relations, with my fever running at 103 degrees. Have you ever had a fever that high Hix? I know you've been that high but I'm asking if you've had a FEVER that high! Ahhh... too busy rattling your penis to understand me. I mean it's fine rattling your penis all around with other men watching but just don't do it in front of me because I couldn't bear to watch. Back to the fever... a fever means that you are running a temperature that is too high. Not puff-puff high, but just plain high. You have a choice on either to be a coward... or to wrestle through the pain. I made the choice to wrestle with blurred vision and lapsed breathing problems. That Hix, gives you a 3 to 1 advantage over me. And like the mediocre wrestler you are, you took that advantage... beating me 1...2...3 for one of the biggest flukes since The Silencer beat Giovanni Sambora. That summarizes keeping enemies closer... and that's what I'm going to do from now on, assuring me victory every match. But the match this week is a lot different… I know nothing about two of my opponents, which is a disadvantage. But my advantage is I’m going right after Hix. So Hix… you will be targeted for Flatine and when it is all said and done, I will be the winner pinning you 1...2...3.

[Standing on the balcony emptying out of his room, Rick Golden lights a cigarette cupping his hand over the end so it won't blow out. He throws the pack back in his room, only taking one and goes to get a chair. He brings back a plush leather chair that only someone like Golden could lift and he sits down absorbing the night. As the camera rotates up we see the stars twinking like diamonds in the sky. Golden is just smiling when his business consultant comes out and brings him some coffee. He takes a sip and pulls back, tasting that it's hot and then grimaces from the sharp warmth. He puts his steaming mug down and begins to talk.]

Rick Golden:You know something, tonight is a night like no other. Stars shining, cool breeze, and my plush chair can't beat anything... except beating up people. Last night at World Relations I'll admit, T.J. Hix beat me up and beat me up good, finishing me with his Downward Spiral from the top rope. But little did T.J. Hix know that earlier in the day I was seen at Dr. Tomo Fujimora's office on the Northwest side of Tokyo getting examined for food poisoning. The results came up while I was throwing up numerous times in a bucket and the results came out positive. I was food poisoned. As I kept throwing up I didn't even know what the hell was going on, I just knew something was messed up with me. Finally the doctor gave me a pill to make me stop throwing up but gave me MAJOR side effects that include blurred vision, sleepiness, and hallucinations. Of course all of these didn't come into effect last night but two of the three did, blurred vision and sleepiness. When the results came I asked him if I could wrestle, he said I couldn't... but the "fighting" kind of guy I am, I stepped up and tried to wrestle with overwhelming odds against me. I consider last night as a win because I could barely see, barely stay awake during the match, and plus your "okay" skills. Last night was a good night for me even though I lost. I put up about a ten minute match when bookies only predicted I'd last four with my sickness. That proves to me and should be to you if you're smart enough that I can beat you when I'm healthy... and I WILL be healthy October 2nd for Flatine.

[All of a sudden... as if out of thin air, a black man about 6'3 comes out on the balcony, dragging his chair across the marble floor making a few clunk sounds. He curses a little bit as we see his Nike Headband on him. The man isn't wearing a shirt, revealing his tattoos to the world, and looks about 3 years older than Golden. Golden smiles as he has trouble bringing his chair out but finally does. We see he has a great muscle tone, but not as good as Golden's. As he sits down Golden smiles and starts to talk as if he wants to brag about this man.]

Rick Golden:Ah! I knew I forgot something. Last night after the pay-per-view I went back to the hotel and found on my desk a stack of papers I needed to fill out by the next day. That is when I hired this man sitting to my right. His name is Malik, the smartest guy I could find in Japan. That's not saying much but I had him do my paperwork for me and all my contracts are done with W3 so now I can enjoy a peaceful life... besides kicking ass and taking names. I have noticed in the W3 there are a lot of "business consultants" here. I've seen that goofball who can't speak English Nicolae, I've seen The Guat who's as long as my penis, I've seen Sara Ebdon who won the prettiest dog contest, and I've seen Morus who likes to suck on The Punisher's blood all day. No similarities with Malik. Malik does my paperwork, accompanies me to the ring, and scouts over my wrestling moves, so that he can take me to the limits I've never been before. One of the good things is he isn't around me while I'm taking a whiz or a shit like other managers, who accompany their clients to the mens room. Well, Ebdon can be an exception right Pete? *Laughs* Well, now you know about Malik... anything you want to add man?

Malik:Nah bra, I'm cool. I'm just anxious to see go out on Flatline and take care of everything we talked about. Not many words from me will be coming until Flatline... unless we're training that is.

[Golden tells Malik to go get him another mug of coffee and he gets up without saying a word. He takes the mug and dumps about a milliliter of coffee of of the balcony and we here a VERY faint splash since it is so quiet out. He gets his mug he brought out and brings it too and leaves the balcony. We hear him on the marble floor clicking his Giorgio Armani shoes against it as he walks out of the Master Bedroom going down the stairs. We focus back on Golden... who is bringing in the fresh air by deep breaths. He sees the camera is back on him and begins to talk again.]

Rick Golden:That Malik will turn out to be a very big aid in my future in the W3. He used to be a wrestler you know... not to scare any of you big boys in the back or anything but just a fair warning.

[Malik comes back with the mug and gives it to Golden. He sits down and starts to sip on his black coffee and Golden begins to speak again with that same smirk on his face.]

Rick Golden:So Malik, have any problems with the coffee machine? I've had to have that damn thing fixed four times in the past month. I'm about to just buy a new one with my pocket change.

Malik:Nope, I had no trouble with it. Maybe it's just I do things more carefully than you *smiles then frowns*. Why the hell are your ribs taped up?

Rick Golden:My match with Hix last night, of course. He got in more body shots than I expected because I couldn't cover up. Like I told the world, I couldn't see great during the match. Once I thought the referee was Hix. They all look alike... fat, ugly, disgusting. Unlike me... big, strong, athletic. Well anyway, Hix is gonna get what he's had coming to him for a long, long, time... and that's an ass whooping courtesy of Rick Golden.

Malik:Yeah, I agree with you on dis Rick. I think that you should stop worrying though. The guy isn't God... and he sure ain't no boss.

Rick Golden:*Laughing Like Hell* You're damn right he isn't god. Speaking of which T.J. Hix's victory over me last night was the biggest fluke since Silencer BEAT God.

Malik:Ain't that the truth bro... listen, I have to get going I need to watch some films of these guys you're facing so stay up.

[Malik exits the balcony as we hear him clicking his shoes on the marble floor. He goes down the stairs and out the front door to his waiting 2003 Ferrari. He hops in and speeds off down the driveway. As Golden sees him speeding off he smiles and begins to talk again.]

"Now, that I'm the only one in the house I can finally relax and think about my match on Wednesday of next week. Now who do I have?J.T. Styles? This guy is pathetic... the next P. Diddy off the hizzy for shizzy. HA! Styles, what's your beef? You haven't been here for three weeks... what the hell could you be doing? Writing a rap song entitled "How I suck in the W3"? I could just imagine the lyrics...

Yo, yo, yo, I'm J.T. Styles Getting my ass kicked, getting thrown into piles

I think I got the skills, I think I'm tough but when I got my paint can, I know I can take a huff

Ha, Ha, Ha. I love J.T. Styles beginning to his new rap song. Maybe you could get a Platinum record to post up on your wall because there's no way and I mean NO WAY you'll get the Platinum title. But that's beside the point... Platinum titles aren't on the line in this match... your life is. Now Styles, I know your rap career has you believing that Tupac is alive... but he is just what you're going to be October 2nd... DEAD. Styles, it’s kind of hard to make fun of you when we aren’t having a two-way conversation… but there’s so many flaws that you have. Like that stupid ass stuff you wear around your wrist. What do you “ballas” call it? Bling Bling? Well, all I have to say about your “Bling Bling” is this… take it down to the ring, and after I’m done ramming your head into all four turnbuckles, splattering your head open with a chair, and giving you The Avalanche, I’ll take that out so I can cut you open even more. Now don’t mistake me for The Punisher Styles, I’m not going to suck all of your blood up… I’m just going to wipe it on my body as a symbol… a symbol that I crucified you and buried you. So here’s the scoop Styles…It's either go after me and DIE or go after someone to the likes of T.J. Hix, the fat, ugly, guy and run out alive. Because I know and everyone knows he doesn't have the skills to put somebody away... FOR GOOD.

Now, onto my other guestLondon Rockwell. I'm skipping you Hix because I despise of you and have no need to talk about you anymore. What I've said about you has been said, so don't cry if I left you out. Anyway... back to my friend London, who was named after one of the shittiest cities in the world. London... DAMN! I can't say that! Brings back bad memories of that wretched city and country! Londy... yes, much better. Londy, I used to have the utmost respect for you... leaving the DRWF and coming to a federation with real talent such as myself. I thought you could be a big player in this organization but I guess I was wrong for the first time in my life. Londy, you HAD the potential, you HAD the skills, you HAD everything it took to be Platinum Champion... and threw it all away with the booze. Don't lie to us Rockwell, most of us know the rumors going around. Well if you "don't know them" then let me tell you. If you "forgot" then let me refresh your memory. In "The Wrestling Source", my weekly tidbit newspaper of the W3 and wrestling world, it showed YOU on the front cover in a club drinking with some other DRWF losers and IWF losers. That is when I ripped that paper up. At first I couldn't believe it, but when I saw you tripping over cables backstage I knew it was true. I was devasted Londy, I really was. We could've been allies even, but now you are going to be just another fat, drunk guy who can't say the alphabet without stuttering. I'm sorry, and you should be sorry... but not as sorry as what I'm going to do to you on Flatline.

On Flatline Rockwell... like I told Styles who was probably singing in the shower, don't come near me if you don't want your career ended. Now I'm not known to put guys through tables and such but I am known to use every other damn thing I can get my hands on. Tables are for wusses... only real geniusess like me know how to use proper weapons... such as chairs, ringbells, ringposts, turnbuckles, brass knuckles, and Sledgehammers. You name it, I'll use it to end your career so Rockwell, come prepared on Flatline because I don't want a cakewalk... driving through all three of you in about five minutes. So with that said Rockwell, think about it, absorb it, cherish those words... because that's basically all I can say about you.

This is how Rick Golden keeps his enemies closer than his friends as we saw. Malik, a good friend and business consultant saw that Golden was determined, focused, and hungry for his opponents. So he took the oppourtunity and left as a good agent would do. Now you wonder, why is Golden so confident? Because he can be. He is better than all of these wrestlers, and will prove it to the world on Flatline. No flukes, no upsets will happen. I can assure you that Rick Golden will NEVER let a fluke happen again.

What will Golden's opponents say? When will Golden make his next move to try and checkmate his opponents in the mind? Stay tuned in the W3 saga of Rick Golden