Joey Ryan relaxes on a lawn chair in the patio of his South California home... On his face rests a pair of silver rimmed aviator shades. He is clothed in a bright, unbuttoned floral patterned shirt, chest hair exposed. Behind him several exotic plants are barely within view of the camera. In front of him is a wooden table, on the table was a cigarette resting in a marble ashtray, smoke smoldering up from it. Next to the billow of smoke was a glass filled with, what we could assume is whiskey, also in the glass was ice beginning to melt in the South California sun. All of this is captured by a still camera across from Ryan. Shooting in low key, noir-ish black and white. He grabs his cigarette from the ash tray, he taps it with his finger, dropping some cinder off the end the cigarette. Ryan takes a puff, then exhales slowly...

"...I see a lot of wrestlers, talking about their motives, why they think they'll win this tournament. Their passion for wrestling. Their drive to win this tournament. The honor that they carry into this newborn federation. Some seeking the respect and prestige that comes with being the first MUSCLE LAND Champion. Maybe you think it's the "right" reason to chase the title,"

Joey pauses, dipping the cigarette into his ashtray. He grabs his beverage, taking a sip for relief from the sun beating down on him. He lets out a grumbled, smokey, laugh then continues.

"Hell, some of you think that's the "right" reason to wrestle.. But answer me this, do you think passion payed for this haircut? Do you think this house was built on honor? All these luxuries you see around me aren't here because I wrestle'd for fun. A lot of bums out on the street are trying to just stay warm. Not me, I'm here enjoying a nice drink. Things aren't this way because I wrestle for sport,"

Ryan takes off his sunglasses...

"The belts honor? Hah, I might as well be winning it so I can chip it's jewels and melt it's gold right off. Everything I pursue is for my own gain, some people call It greed, selfishness, narcissism, perhaps even evil... I call it sleaze,"

Gunshot. The screen goes black.

Rated S, for Sleaze.