Uggo's to the left of me. Uggo's to the right.

[Clover]

Tyler Breeze was consumed by himself, as per usual, as he gazed longingly at his phone, taking amazing selfie after selfie in his dressing room. A male stylist approached him, making sure his light blue colored, furred, hooded jacket had the right amount of fluff. Tyler cocked his head and began to speak.

Tyler Breeze: Who was that..scary clown man who came down to the ring last week?

Stylist: Tyler..that was..uh..well..that was Sting.

Tyler Breeze: Gross. I hate when musicians try to step into the ring. Who's next? Flo Rida?

The stylist was more than a little floored that Tyler seemingly had no clue who Sting was.

Stylist: Well, he's..sort of a complete legend in the sport, Tyler.

Tyler Breeze: Yawn. He's a complete legend alright. A legendary UGGO. Why else would he cover his face so much? Also, who was that homeless man who slipped past security?

Stylist: Dean Ambrose. He's..a pretty big name too.

Tyler Breeze: Not as big as mine.

Stylist: Who could be?

The Stylist shamelessly sucked up to the model but it wasn't as if he expected anything less.

Tyler Breeze: I have a lot of pressure. I have to captain an entire team of uggo's against ANOTHER team of uggo's. CM Punk and his rancid little squad of fashion disasters. They had better follow my lead and do all the heavy lifting.

Stylist: And..what will YOU do, Tyler?

The camera dramatically zoomed in on Tyler's face as he slowly rose a brow and pursed his lips

Tyler Breeze: I'm going to be absolutely..GORGEOUS.