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Brace Yourself.


Iceberg LeTuce

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*The scene opens in the back office of “Le’Tuce’s Pussy’s” where the proprietor, OCW’s very own Iceberg Le’Tuce is relaxing on a sofa while his Head-Hoe Eva is sitting with a calculator.*

 

Eva: “The books are balancing quite well. We really should tax their tips or something. Those girls that can do the splits tend to rake in 100 bills a session.”

 

 

Le’Tuce: “Yeah. We make enough money though, it’s not like we’re outside sleeping in cardboard boxes and eating the leftovers out of KFC boxes like Fausto. ”

 

Eva: "Suppose so. Good to see you‘re doing alright in OCW. Average wage for a pro wrestler, you must be raking it in.”

 

*Le’Tuce sits bolt upright*

 

Le’Tuce: “We get paid?!?! I thought it was just free sandwiches and kool-aid. Oh well, it’s fun I suppose. I could get myself another belt. OCW needs a champion with my style…my sophistication….my elegance! ”

 

Eva: "Whatever braugh, you’ll always be a jobber to me. Anyway, we need to get ready, we got Papa Mumford in 20 minutes. Remember last time he was in? I never knew it was possible to rip your gooch open. That guy is revolting.”

 

Le’Tuce: “Yeah but he pays the bills. I’ll go oil up your gimp-suit.”

 

Eva: "Fuck my life.”

 

*The scene closes*

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