Dolph Ziggler: Well. Heaven be blessed! The powers that be, who I don't even know who they are any more since they always ignore me, and I think Wes Ikeda got fired - have given Dolph Ziggler the chance of a life time. There is something that I've been missing since I came to the EBWF. It certainly isn't money. It certainly isn't my Florida home with an outdoor jacuzzi. And it certainly isn't female attention. No. It's gold. I happen to like gold. Not the tacky pimp-daddy eighteen pound wrist watch kind of gold, and not the gold in your teeth like James Storm likely possesses, but classy, refined gold. The gold of the Intercontinental Championship. For the longest time, that championship has been regarded as "the workhorse" title. It was the championship that the guy who worked the hardest was entrusted with the opportunity to pursue. Men like Macho Man Randy Savage, Bret The Hitman Hart, Shawn Michaels... Recently though, things have taken a downward turn. You might as well throw that championship in the trash if you're allowing people like Trent Barreta and Jeff Hardy to compete for it. Men who would rather play video games or puff the magic dragon than go to the gym. Men who are more interested in painting giant ugly murals on the side of their houses than graduating college, and...by the way, I graduated with the best amateur wrestling record that any Kent State Student had in the history of the sport. I was primed to attend law school. I'm more than looks. I'm more than a rockin' body and a smart mouth. I'm a well-rounded, productive, enviable member of society, and I'm your future Intercontinental Champion. You'll never see Dolph Ziggler arrested for drink driving. How would I get my girl home if I crashed into a tree? News flash. Police cars don't impress the ladies. Especially when you're riding in the back of them, Jeff.
Dolph shook his head with a judgemental look on his face.
Dolph Ziggler: And James Storm... the internet knows all your dirty little secrets too. Apparently while I was caring for my hearing-impared mom and learning American sign language in order to communicate with her, you were doing partially nude photoshoots behind haystacks. I made every attempt to avoid looking at them, and was successful, I might add, but my source assures me that my fact is true. Google is your friend, people. Or...maybe when you're an idiot, it's your worst enemy. I'm no idiot. But I'm also not a champion. At least, not yet. But I will be. And what better way to prove how valuable I am than to defeat two men who are the absolute polar opposite to me? It's about self respect, gentlemen, and if you don't have that, you can't bring one iota of respect to the Intercontinental Championship. You continue with your hoe-down. I'll be in the club partying like Ric Flair. Only without the kidnapping and cocaine. Say no to drugs, kids. Say yes...to Dolph Ziggler, especially if you're hot, female, or the Intercontinental Title. Later...marks.
Dolph winked as the scene faded.