CLINK! ... CLINK! ... CLINK! ...

The sound of bottles being packed away resound rather loudly in the penthouse suite. Standing behind a custom made bar is one half of the WWA Tag team champions, Vic Vicious. He is packing away all the bottles of booze that remain on the glass shelves behind the bar. He does not bother looking at the labels as he carefully stores them away in a box resting on the bar. Another individual walks into the den, looking somewhat groggy, as if having just woken up. Mick Vain, dressed only in a pair of blue Reebok gym shorts, rubs his eyes to see what is going on. He blinks several times as he watches Vic for a few seconds before opening his mouth to speak.

“Morning Vic,” he yawns. “What are you up to at...”

Mick looks around at the clock on the wall.

“Seven?!”

Mick’s eyes open wide to make sure he is reading it right. He looks at Vic very confused.

“Hey yo! What are you doing with my liquor man?” Mick asks, running his hand through his long hair to remove it from his eyes.

Without stopping or looking at his tag team partner, Vic answers. “It’s time Mick.”

Mick waits. There must be more to the explanation. Seeing that Vic appears quite satisfied with his response, Mick inquires again.

“Um, time for what? It’s seven a.m. What could possibly be so important that it couldn’t wait for an hour like, oh, I don’t know, elevenish? Noon?”

Vic grabs one of the last bottles behind the bar and pauses before placing it in the box. He looks at Mick with his usual serious expression.

“It’s time we take ourselves more seriously. It’s time we take what we do more seriously.”

“And taking away all my liquor will help with that?” Mick looks incredulous.

“Yes, it will.” Vic takes down another bottle.

“No man! Not that brandy! That bottle’s worth a hundred and fifty bucks! And...” Mick walks to his bar and opens the mini-fridge. A look of shock and horror suddenly appears on his face. “Where is all my beer? My bottles of Dom? The wine? Vodka? Scotch? No! Not my eighty year old scotch!”

Mick looks frantically under the bar, around the room. He runs off towards the kitchen and comes back, bewildered.

“Vic,” Mick smiles and nods at his tag team partner. “Alright, I know what you’re up to. Where did you put it? This is some joke right?”

“Nope,” Vic simply says.

Mick walks over to sit on one of the stools by his bar. Looking quite confused, he can only ask, “Why?”

Vic places the last bottle in the box. He looks at his downtrodden friend and smiles.

“Don’t worry Mick. It’s all good. We’re turnin’ over a new leaf. I’ve said it before that a body is like a shrine. You need to take care of it and treat it properly. We have to be at the top of our game and keep improvin’ every day.”

“Improve? We’re the WWA tag team champs! We’re at the top already. What is there to improve? We’re the best!”

“True, but as scary as it may sound to the other hopefuls in the WWA, we can be even better. That’s why there will be no more of this garbage enterin’ our bodies. You realize the hell we put our bodies through every time we drink this cr*p?”

Mick does not bother to answer. Vic goes on.

“We work out to keep ourselves in tip-top form. This stuff basically makes those work out sessions a huge waste of time. That’s why...” Vic takes the heavy box off the bar and carries it to the door to the suite. He returns moments later with another, smaller box. “We’re goin’ to replace your stock of alcohol with this.”

Vic pulls out a nice, tall bottle of some energy drink, some Powerade, Gatorade, fruit drinks, packs of frozen fruits, tubs of protein powder, milk and a brand new, stainless steel blender which he places at the end of the bar nearest the wall. He plugs it into an outlet under the bar. Mick looks dumbfounded.

“What in the hell is all that cr*p Vic? I can’t be seen drinking that stuff. How cool would that be? I’m Mick Vain! The Human Thrillride! I can’t be bringing the ladies home to share in a nice protein shake!”

“Mick, do ya’ need to get those women drunk before they, well, ya’ know?” Vic asks.

“Well, no, but...”

“There ya’ go. Trust me, with our tranin’ program and makin’ better choices with what we eat and drink, we won’t have to worry about gettin’ fat.”

“Fat?! Where?!”

Mick looks down at his body. There is no doubt Mick’s physique is impressive. He pinches his sides and appears satisfied with what he sees.

“There’s no fat there pal. I look damn good!”

“Right, and with this stuff, you’re sure to stay that way.”

“Okay, but how about when I go to a bar?”

“Perrier man, that’s it.”

“Yuck!”

“I’m dead serious man, this will be a change for the better.”

“Am I supposed to start going to church on Sundays too?”

Vic finishes packing the new, healthier items in Mick’s bar. He stops to look at his tag team partner. With a stone-like expression, “We’re not goin’ to be saints any time soon. We are Vain and Vicious and we are the WWA tag team champions. That won’t soon be forgotten or be changin’ any sooner. We’re are still goin’ to kick a$$ and show every simpleton in the WWA and their fans why we are the best at what we do.”

“Well, if we’re going to be in even better shape than before, on who do we have a chance to beat on first?”

Vic chuckles.

“Get this Mick, the WWA has decided to put us in another eight man match. We get to team up with the has-beens, The Pain Syndicate.”

Mick rolls his eyes.

“I know, what a joke, but that’s not the end of it. We get to slap around the Devil Dogs and the League of Morons one more time.”

Mick bursts out laughing. He manages to control himself, wiping away a tear.

“Ha! Ha! LoG, the supposed number one contenders. These clowns are the real joke of the WWA. Tell you what Vic, lets show everyone the LoG’s wrestling career is going nowhere but down the toilet.”

Mick bursts out laughing again.

“Get it? LoG, down the toilet!” Mick stops laughing, noticing that Vic’s serious expression has returned. He shakes his head.

“So we’re really going to do this? No more booze?” Mick looks hopeful.

“Yes Mick, we’re really doin’ this. And since this will be our first match of the new year, and the WWA’s one hundredth Meltdown, I thought we’d do somethin’ special.”

“Yeah? What do you have in mind?” Mick asks, his curiosity piqued.

“You’ll see bro, you’ll see. As will all the clowns in the arena Monday night. Especially LoG and the Devil Dogs. It will be a night to remember.”

Vic opens two bottles of Powerade and hands one to Mick. He holds up his bottle for Mick to make a toast. They do so and the scene fades to black.