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Awake and Alive suddenly plays throughout the arena, but without it's usual fanfare. the members of G.O.D. have their own matches on the card, but not until later. It's not their turn yet, so why is their music playing?

This is being debated by a confused commentary team, who are just starting to suggest the possibility of an equipment malfunction, when the three members of the Notorious G.O.D. finally make their way out onto the ramp, sporting a set of outfits that instantly sends the audience into a collective rage.

Gone is their usual attire... Instead of her beautiful black dress, Nathalie is wearing a red, flowery kimono, with her hair done up in a bun. There are two chopsticks poking through that bun, and below that, her eyes are squinted to the point that they're just barely open.

Instead of his black tights and elbow-pads, Lester Cryden is wearing a very formal black suit, a black smoker's hat, and two long, curly sideburns are hanging from his ears. Top top it off, he's wearing a pair of glasses, a big fake nose, and a wholly uncomfortable expression.

And leading the pack, exaggeratedly bowing his head as he makes his way down the ramp, is Jimmy Monera, dressed in dirty white rags instead of his usual sparkling coat and white tights. On his head, a white towel, done up to look like a turban. Attached to his chin is a thick black beard, but behind all of it, a dark spray-on tan.

In a futile effort to break the thick tension that’s quickly building up in the sold-out arena, one of the commentators quickly remarks, ‘Apparently it’s Halloween.’

Jimmy slides in under the ropes, then helps Nathalie up onto the apron, as Lester climbs up the stairs, looking around awkwardly at the heated audience members around him. The three of them make their way to the center of the ring, as Jimmy produces a microphone from inside of his turban.

“Hello,” he starts, in a heavy fake accent, “I thank you all for coming to our show, and I would very much like to wish you all a happy American Holiday. From the heart of my honored cow god to you, Happy Halloween to everybody!”

There’s some laughter from the stands, but it’s almost swallowed up by a large chorus of boos.

“Halloween, you may say, is an offensive holiday. And a man of deep religious conviction like myself has no business celebrating it. And it is true that Halloween has a dark and dirty past, but that was a long time ago. It’s been bastardized beyond recognition over the years, and I am happy to say that now it is nothing more than a perfectly acceptible family-friendly holiday, where we get to dress up and parade around as things that scare us, or just outright insult us. And you can say anything you want about vampires and werewolves, but there is nothing scarier than a smelly hairy beast who wants to crush me inside of a giant building.”

He pauses for a second, a huge smile on his face, as people in the top row have actually started getting up to leave. He motions over to Lester.

“Now, my good friend over here may not be a real lawyer, but he’s been on the business end of one before. So how about ‘The First’ Lester Cryden tells us a little bit about his costume?”

He passes the mike to Lester, who just glares at him for it. After a moment, he raises it to his lips. “I’m not doing this.”

Jimmy does a double-take, the s**t-eating grin quickly becoming a little contorted from his confusion. He takes the mike back, his accent disappearing. “What do you mean, you’re not doing this? You said back stage that you were fine with it. If you’re going to leave me hanging here, can’t you at least threaten to sue me for all I’m worth?”

Lester shakes his head, as Jimmy holds the mike up for him. “Look, you guys have fun with this if you want, but I’m going to go get ready for my match. I’ll catch you afterwards.”

Without saying another word, Lester turns, and exits the ring. He walks up the ramp, tearing off and leaving his offensive prosthetics on the steel behind him as he goes.

“Okay,” Jimmy says after a few more awkward seconds. He picks his accent back up. “Well, we can still have an explosive time tonight, with or without the jihad pooper. Perhaps my favorite of all my wives would like to say something instead?”

He holds the microphone out to Nathalie, who smiles mischievously into it, and says “Ching chang bing bong wa.”

Another chorus of boos errupt, as Jimmy moves to her side and puts her arm around her. “Well, my little fortune cookie, I think it would greatly honor me if you’d help me hand out candy to all of these good little children. I was going to have Ezekiel Goldbergstein do it, but since he left, let’s you and I do this together.”

He reaches a hand into her kimono, as she places a hand over her mouth, feigning shock and indignation at his touch. But he quickly pulls out a bag of candy that she’d been hiding. He leads her out under the ropes by the hand, and together, they travel around the barricade, tosding tiny butterscotch crosses at the people in the front row. Finally they finish, and they just stand there, soaking up the almost universal heat that they’ve managed to incite. He raises the microphone one more time. “Well, it’s been a blast, but I have a plane to catch. Thank you all, come again!”

He tosses the mike to an announcer, and holds Nathalie close as they maneuver around the ring, heading for the ramp.

Jimmy turns to Nathalie, only to realize that she's already removed the microphone she'd come to the ring with. He leans over and whispers in her ear, asking her to fetch another one for him. She nods, shoots Boxer a quick glare, and heads off down the ramp.

Turning back to Boxer, Jimmy smiles, awkwardly, trying to think of a way to pass the time. He starts to wish that Lester hadn't really left... That maybe he'd be hiding backstage, waiting to sneak out here and club this little whelp across the back for bothering them. But no, that party-pooper was probably in the locker room still. "I knew you weren't a real demon," he says, too low for the crowd to hear it. "Brony Robinson owes me 20 bucks now."

Finally, Nathalie returns with the microphone, passing it off to her husband. Jimmy takes it, thanks her, and taps it to make sure it's working. "As I'm sure you all know," he begins, stroking his thick, dark middle-eastern beard, "I'm not really a huge fan of racism. We're all children of God, and as long as we're all united under him, we should be respectful of each others' ethnicities. So it poses a great offense to me to see you making comments like this. Not only have you implied that all Japanese women look like sluts, but you're actually making fun of a black woman for not being able to look like one of them. And really, that's low, and just plain unnecessary."

Nathalie reaches over, and squeezes Jimmy's arm a bit, a gesture meant to silently thank him for standing up for her.

"But on the subject of Halloween, it's just supposed to be a time to have fun. And there are lots of ways to do that. For us, that means putting on costumes to make fun of a few certain Godless cults on live TV. For someone like you, it would normally mean begging someone to invite you to a party, dressing up as best you can, and trying to get any girl you can see who's dressed as a slutty cat to take your virginity away from you. But in your case, I think they'd rather just take a candy bar with a razor blade hidden in it."

He pauses to gloat over his own comments, a broad grin on his face to punctuate them. "And yet, you're here. And I think I know why you're here. Honey, do we have any candy left?"

He turns to Nathalie, who holds up their candy bag, which still has about five candy crosses in it. Smirking, she takes them out, and tosses them at Boxer. "Happy Halloween, little boy. We just love your Reality TV Douchebag costume."

The sudden development in front of Jimmy's very eyes leaves him speechless. He stares on, stunned, as Boxer tears his own prosthetic skin off, showing the red surface underneath. And it doesn't look fake.

Beside him, Nathalie clutches his arm, starting to look firmly on the border between uncomfortable and terrified. But the unease on Jimmy's face soon fades away, replaced by his good old fashioned cocky smirk. "You know what the strange thing is? This isn't even the weirdest transformation I've ever seen in a wrestling arena. I once saw a man dressed up as Sting remove his make-up, and try to pretend he'd been Shawn Michaels all along. And then he tried to pretend he'd been CM Punk the whole time. And unlike you, this was a guy a lot of people actually took very seriously, although I don't recall personally being one of them."

For one of the few times in his career, some of the older fans pop for his remark... They're the older fans, who actually remember who Kalos was, and still enjoy a good joke at his expense.

"And as for you... Well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I called you a basket case, I'm sorry I said your tail was fake, and I'm sorry I ever called you a delusional emo-fabulous nutjob. The truth is, I'd probably call myself a demon too if I had as many birth defects as you have. I mean, it's bad enough that your mother didn't have the good sense to deposit you in a hospital dumpster after you were born, but no, she kept you alive, so you could go through your entire life being alienated from humanity. I have to admit, in your shoes, I'd be pretty eager to make up some ridiculous supernatural backstory to explain why people avoided me too. So with that being said, I'm sorry."