Three young looking guys laid on their backs, flat out under a canvas which read “Storm Wrestling Academy”, breathing out hard, looking completely totaled. Standing over them was the head trainer and owner of the academy, EBWF’s own Lance Storm. A familiar voice came from ringside.

Trent: Woah, you really milked those dudes.

Lance’s newest addition to the academy, former EBWF World Champion, the man with the sickest sideburns in wrestling, the man who thought last names were overrated; Trent. Wearing a cap tilted backwards, a sleeveless gray T-shirt and blue jeans, he slid into the ring through the bottom rope.

Lance Storm: These guys? They’re not students, they’re my nephews. They asked if they could play on their playstation. This is what happened instead.

Trent: Woah, I wonder what happens when they fail math. Anyway, I just dropped by in case you needed someone to do some mat work, you know… Get ready.

Lance Storm: Oh I’m sorry, I was unaware you came all this way to insult me. Wait… get ready for what?

Trent: Get ready to face Enzo Francescoli!

Lance Storm: Oh for fuck’s sake, at the local library read-a-thon? I’m too big for them now. I’ve got a chess tournament to concern myself with.

Trent: Read-a-thon? Wait, no, dude. Wrestling. Professional wrestling… See the camera?

Trent pointed at the cameraman and the millions and millions of Lance Storm fans watching from home. Instinctively, Lance turned sideways towards the cameraman, and superkicked the camera out of his hands.

Lance Storm: YOU BROUGHT THE PRESS TO MY SCHOOL? I’M TRYING TO KEEP THIS PLACE A SECRET.

Trent wondered if he should make a Batcave or Fortress of solitude reference, but somehow contained himself.

Lance Storm: You’re thinking about lame things, aren’t you?

Trent: I was thinking Wes Ikeda is a dick.

Lance Storm: I’m starting to think taking you under my wing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Lance pondered into the distance for a moment, then his face clearly showed something dawning on him.

Lance Storm: Are you telling me I have an actual wrestling match? Where? Who for? I’m not going to England again. They don’t do salads properly.

Trent: I quit EBWF last time they went on an European tour. Can’t stand women who don’t wax their armpits. Woah, was that racist?

Lance Storm: Racist is as racist does. Y’know, like Frost Gump said.

Trent: You mean… Yeah, Frost Gump was a great movie. Speaking of Racism… You’re facing Enzo Ferrari or something.

Lance sighed.

Lance Storm: For Ring of Honor?

Trent: Ee Bee Dubya Ef.

Lance Storm: You’re kidding. They expect me to wrestle without a contract? This is Jericho’s work. Let me guess, I’m opening the show? He knows I hate that.

Trent: And you’re facing some Jersey Shore dropout italian dude.

Lance Storm: Oh so he’s a refined gentleman who lives by the beach? This could be interesting. How is his dialect?

Trent: I'd love to illustrate but i'm afraid I have no stroke sequelae. I was thinking we could study some italian and american stereotypes, ever played Super Mario Brothers?

Lance Storm: I assume you mean on the piano?

Trent: Oh, holy ravioli. How about we drive to the shore so you can meet the fine… Gentlemen…?... Jersey Dudes.

Lance Storm: I assume by your tone that that is a terrible idea, one which will upset me greatly. Listen, I’m in peak physical shape. I can still wrestle rings around anybody. What’s there to even worry about?

Trent: Dudes from the shore get jacked… Then they get tanned… Then they do laundry. That’s all I know about guys from Jersey…

Lance Storm: I thought dirty work like that was reserved for Colombians?

Trent: Good luck getting decent cocaine with that attitude. Oh, I also was almost married to a girl from New Jersey…

Lance Storm: Whenever I was in Jersey, I noticed all the woman either looked 12, or looked like criminals. I hope for your sake she had parents from a wholesome place like Canada.

Trent: I’d be bored to death, a moose gets killed here and it makes the evening news dude. So, we don’t know much about Jersey. It’s either a 38 hour drive or an evening sitting with me playing Mario Brothers.

Lance Storm: Well you don’t look like the type of guy who knows his way around a piano… So I suppose I’ll take the drive. You go start your automobile while I fetch my audiobooks. I don’t wish to talk to you on the way.

Trent: Fine, I’ll talk to the cameraman.

Lance looked at the cameraman, who was on the floor surveying the damage done to his camera.

Lance Storm: He’s staying here. He’s overweight and needs a workout. I shall leave him in the capable hands of my assistant.

Lance grabbed a tape player and some headphones and guided Trent out of the room. Some shouting could be heard from where they had just left.

???: YAY! NEW TOYS!

Lance looked at Trent.

Lance Storm: Don’t you dare ask me anything.

Trent: My name used to end in a question mark. Dude, how are we going to tape everything if you left the cameraman back there? Also, how are we going to edit, produce and upload the conversation we just had to EBWF.net? OH THE PLOTHOLES.

Lance Storm: What’s an EBWF net? Can we get going already?

Trent: Snap on to those headphones, Jersey here we go!

Fast forward a few hours and Lance is staring straight ahead of him while Trent is driving. Lance nodded, and removed his headphones.

Lance Storm: End of book. Right, I need us to be serious for a moment.

Trent went to say something.

Lance Storm: Don’t you DARE mark out in my presence. Listen, I don’t trust many people. Actually, I trust about 2 people. I need to know that you 100% fully believe in what we’re doing here. You used to put a question mark at the end of your name - do you think that fills me with confidence?

Trent: Well, you used to be billed as the Ideal Canadian and I’m not being a judgy Jason about it.

Lance Storm: I AM the Ideal Canadian.

Trent: And I have a footlong manhood, but they don’t bill me that way… Please don’t tell anyone, it’s pretty hard to get girls off my back as is.

Lance Storm: There’s a joke in there somewhere, based around ‘pretty hard’, but I’m not going there. I’ve just finished some hard hitting literature, and I need to know you’re not going to turn your back on me and fuck this whole thing up.

Trent: Do I look like a fuck up?

Lance Storm: In all honesty Trent you kind of look like a giant thumb.

Trent: Giant thumb? Care to elaborate?

Lance Storm: No. But I’m not accustomed to allies. I’ve had one in the past 20 years - or at least I thought I did. You see, when a brother turns his back on everything you believe in, you don’t just take to new confidants straight away. You came to me in order to better yourself. But tell me - why should I trust you? How do I know this isn’t some Wes Ikeda prank he’s carrying out to make up for his erectile dysfunction?

Trent: Why do you use the name of Wes Ikeda and erectile dysfunction in the same sentence? You want to know why you should trust me? Because I know what it feels like, you have your brothers, your bride-to-be, your fans and your friends turn your back out of jealousy. Curt Hawkins stabbed me in the back, the man I grew up with, the man I dreamed of headlining Wrestlemania with. AJ turned her back on me, she dumped me for a brit apple shaped piece of ass…

Lance Storm: I get it - you’ve been stabbed in the back a couple of times. But why come to me?

Trent: I know out of all people in the world, you’d be the only one with a motive to return. Or do you still want to see Chris Jericho taking Ikeda’s kids to soccer practice?

Lance Storm: You still have a lot to prove, kid. But you’re right - the mission at hand is ridding the EBWF of that absolute shell of his former self, Irvine. Then, we run the company into the ground. You prepared for all that comes with that?

Trent: You mean fame, fortune, chicks?

Lance Storm: I mean hard work and consequences. But if you want a chicken coup then whatever I’m not gonna stand in the way of a man and his passion for poultry. Stop talking now, I’ve only just found out there’s more than one Harry Potter book.

Lance went to insert a new tape into his tape player.

Lance Storm: ...unless… You want to listen too?

Trent: Expecto Patronum!!!!!

Lance Storm: I don’t speak latin, you idiot. No audiobook for you.

Trent: D’AWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lance Storm: The perfect moment of friendship solidifying and you fucked it up. Keep driving, weird thumb man.

Lance put his headphones on and continued to stare directly in front of him. Trent sighed, hoping the 30-something hours went by fast and Lance reached the “Prisoner of Azkaban” audiobook.

30 hours, 20 stops to pee, 30 conversations on why football shouldn’t be called football later, our heroes finally arrived to New Jersey.

Lance Storm: What the fuck is wrong with your bladder?

Trent: I just drink a lot of water. How was Harry Potter?

Lance Storm: Well, it turns out there are THREE books! I found another tape at the bottom of my bag! And their judicial system is flawed to fuck. So, this is New Jersey?

Trent: Yup. Welcome to fist pump county.

They drove along a beach where a lot of hunks with ridiculously large amounts of gel on their hair, orange as carrot skin tones and sunglasses three times bigger than their head.

Trent: Presumably, Enzo amore looks just like one of them.

Lance Storm: You’re shitting me - he’s gonna be a musclehead? Has he passed a wellness test? I’m gonna end up with a concussion, aren’t I?

Trent: Not really, he’s 5’11 and 200 pounds.

Lance Storm: And he’s coming up against me? Wow, good job you can teach that.

Trent: Hey Lance, why don’t you get a taste of these refined gentlemen’s chattery in a local club?

Lance Storm: I’d like nothing less.

Trent found a place to park the car, a couple of blocks away from the place, which apparently was the place in town to be on a Friday night. Trent had no time to change, he was still sporting his backwards cap, jeans and a T-shirt. Lance was wearing a plain white t-shirt and black trousers pulled up quite high. He took a look around at the people stood outside the club and saw that most of the men were muscular. Lance shook his head and took his shirt off.

Trent: What are you doing?

Lance Storm: Fitting in. And also showing them what real form looks like.

Surely a few sets of eyes turned their attention to them, specifically a couple of girls who were queueing up to enter the place.

Girl #1: Hot damn, ya fine boy!

Lance didn’t even look at her.

Lance Storm: I am well aware. Lets go inside.

Girl #2: And confident too!

Lance and Trent reached the entrance with the girls all over Lance, where a bouncer roughly the size of three Trents stood in their way.

Bouncer: Aren’t you a big old and a little… underdressed to be here?

Lance looked him straight in the eye.

Lance Storm: Aren’t you a little clearly divorced and unhappy to be passing judgement on anyone? Also look at this guy I’m with, he’s been on television a lot.

Trent smiled, rather cheesily with two thumbs up.

Bouncer: Fantastic! In you go!

The girls wrapped themselves around each of Lance’s arms, the four of them went inside the club.

Lance Storm: So, are you girls educated?

Girl #2: We don’t need teachers - we have Mama Kardashian to model ourselves on!

Girl #1: And we also watch the shore, so we good.

Lance discarded the girls immediately asif throwing trash out of a car window. Two different girls conjoined themselves to Lance immediately

Trent: What is it with you and the ladies? If there were a title for having the most girls, you’d win it by a mile.

Lance Storm: In my many years with this company I have never won that godforsaken Hottie of the Year award. I feel like Al Gore to Wes Ikeda’s George W. Bush - something just isn’t right.

Trent: You serial?

Lance Storm: Don’t make me discard you as well.

Lance spotted a seating booth.

Lance Storm: Why don’t you ladies sit there and use your phones to find out ways to impress me. I like books, quidditch and making things out of wood. Me and Trent are going to go to the bar.

The girls took seats in the booth while Lance and Trent wandered over to the bar. Stood in the middle were a group of jacked guys loudly talking about women they had slept with.

Muscleman #1: She was tight, bro! Like, seriously! I paid for the drinks and everything!

Muscleman #2: But you sealed the deal, yeah? And left her hanging the next morning?

Muscleman #1: You know it.

Lance turned to Trent.

Lance Storm: Watch this - I’m going to integrate.

Topless Lance approached the men and stood directly in the middle of them, placing his hands on the bar.

Lance Storm: So do you guys think it was bullshit too that Hagrid got sent to Azkaban, just as a safety measure? It made no sense-

Trent walked quickly towards Lance and pulled him away

Trent: Dude, you want to get us killed or what? Now watch and learn…

Trent, turned towards the musclebound tanned dudes.

Trent: Yo, so… Y’all like a PS4 or an Xbox One better? Personally I think the Xbox One controller having batteries sucks… Uhh… Do you fist pump a lot broskis? Woo woo woo... you know it…?

Lance Storm: Trent you’re having a nervous breakdown! You’re talking nonsense!

Lance dragged Trent away from the group of men, who looked ready for a fight. Lance looked at them.

Lance Storm: We are literally former world champions of wrestling. Why would you even bother?

Lance dragged Trent to the booth were the women were sat waiting for them, playing on their phones. The two of them took a seat.

Lance Storm: We literally have nothing in common with these people.

Trent: Can I hear a Hallelujah? Anyway, what have you learned… Considering you’re going up against one of these… Culturally challenged individuals?

Lance Storm: I made a living in the EBWF getting into my opponent’s heads and outwrestling them on the basis of knowing their every move. How am I supposed to get on the level of someone of this ilk? A man who probably has names for his muscles? I’m actually going to lose, aren’t I? It’s going to be like ice skating in a desert - except the desert is an idiot and, er - THESE PEOPLE ARE ACTUALLY DUMBING ME DOWN JUST BY BREATHING THE SAME AIR AS THEM.

Trent: Ya SAWFT Lancey!

The girls diverted their eyes from the phones to Trent, as if for once they understood what the two wrestlers were talking about.

Trent: Slap me.

Lance slapped Trent clean in the face as hard as he could. Trent fell off his chair and onto the ground.

New girl #1: I did reading baby! You want to be my Edward? I’m good at playing with balls and I’m totally awesome with wood too, if you know what I mean.

Trent: Fuck Twilight.

Lance stared at her blankly, having lost all faith in humanity.

Lance Storm: Please remove yourself from my company, and refrain from entering the company of anyone else - ever again. Come on Trent, we’re leaving.

Lance got up and walked straight towards the exit, leaving Trent behind. Trent quickly bolted behind Lance.

Trent: Woah, dude! Wait up! As berated, grossed out by the fake tan and hearing hurt as I am from listening to these stupid fools… Don’t you feel there’s something missing? Like to, you know… Wrap things up? And I don’t mean getting Chlamydia from this place.

Lance Storm: Say, Trent. Who does most of the backstage interviews for EBWF nowadays?

Trent: Everyone’s got raging boners for Renee Young. Coach got brain damage from too many superkicks and joined Sportscenter.

Lance Storm: I wish him all the best, the beautiful but lost little gem. I assume you have Renee’s number in your phone… Right, judging by the stage this place has live music nights, and given that it’s a popular club I’m betting they have cameras in the back to record the bands. Trent, your new mission is to fetch us one of those cameras while I give Renee a call.

Trent handed Lance his phone and was quick to return with a microphone, and three cameras, each held by a gorgeous looking girl.

Trent: Don’t ask.

Lance Storm: Ask no questions and Trent will tell you no lies. Hold on I’ll just make the call.

Lance looked at the phone.

Lance Storm: Do the dialling bit.

Trent sighed and took the phone off of Lance. He accessed Renee’s number from his contacts and hit call, handing the phone back to Lance.

Lance Storm: ...Hello is this Renee? Hi, it’s your fellow Canadian Lance Storm here. Listen, THESE PEOPLE HAVE A GUN AND THEY HAVE ME AND YOUR PARENTS. WE’RE AT THE JERSEY SHORE GET OVER HERE QUICK.

2 hours later… Lance, Trent and their new camerawomen are sitting eating ice creams. Renee came running up to them.

Lance Storm: It’s so cold, like my feelings towards ice cream.

Renee Young: Lance? TRENT? Where are my parents?

Lance Storm: Why on Earth would I know where your parents are? We have literally never met. MRS JERSEY LADY, ROLL THE CAMERA! TRENT - SHOW HER HOW.

Trent instructed each girl, whose intellect was lower than the last, how to properly work a camera. Renee young still looked infuriated as she held the mic, clenching it so tight she might even leave fingermarks.

Lance Storm: Renee think of your posture - your professional credentials are on the line here.

She exhaled and tried really hard not to bite back as a reply.

Renee Young: Ladies and gentlemen, my guest at this time is Lance Storm. Can you tell us why we are here?

Lance Storm: Well you’re here because you’ll believe anything an attractive man tells you. I’m here because I have my first match back in EBWF on Monday, much to my surprise. My opponent? Enzo Zidane.

Renee Young: Amore.

Lance Storm: When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie that’s… My close friend Trent here-

Trent smiled and waved at the camera.

Lance Storm: - gave me a bit of background info on young Enzo. So, like any intelligent man, I came to investigate his roots in an attempt to gauge his strengths and weaknesses going into the match. Sadly for Enzo, all I found were weaknesses. This place simply could not produce a man with the mental tenacity and fortitude to last even a minute in the ring with me. So why am I in this match, Renee? Tell me.

Renee’s facial expression was rather quizzical.

Renee Young: I… I don’t do the matches… But I guess Enzo Amore made a big statement defeating the Miz last week. You could say that by adding another legendary name to his list he would be a serious contender for…

Trent: The breakout title, tops.

Lance Storm: Did she just refer to the Miz as legendary? Seriously if your parents hadn’t been kidnapped they’d be shaking their heads in disgust at you now Renee. And no, you are quite wrong. I have been put in this match for one reason and one reason only - to piss me off. Chris Jericho - mad about our recent righteous activities - knows how to irritate every fibre of me, and his mind games start this week. He can’t go toe to toe with me and Trent - he doesn’t have the balls anymore. So instead, he has to resort to his famous mind games in an attempt to wear me down. But hey - I’m a wrestler, so I might as well wrestle, right? I’ll play along with pathetic little Chris Ikeda for now, and I’ll start by reminding him just who the master of the squared circle is - the man who taught Chris everything he knows.

Lance looked into the camera.

Lance Storm: Enzo - I have shown you no respect so far, and that’s because I have had no reason to. Bring your A game on Monday, son - and I’ll give you the best lesson possible. A lesson in defeat, at the hands of the greatest technical wrestler this world has ever and will ever see.

Lance turned back to Renee.

Trent: DON’T SUPERKICK HER!

Renee backed off, Lance shook his head asif to drive a thought from his mind. His eyes then shifted beyond the camera, and he walked past the view of the lens.

Trent: Lance!

The camera panned around and caught Lance on superkick number 2. He hit a third one, and stood proudly above the 3 men Lance and Trent had encountered at the bar earlier.

Lance Storm: I CAN’T HELP IT. I THINK I NEED THERAPY.

Trent shook his head and put his hand in front of the camera as the scene faded.

Poor Jersey boys! Good work though, guys. Really enjoyed reading this :)