"Boris the Barrister is a brutal force of inhuman nature sent to crush the skulls of the unlawful. And what is unlawful you ask? FUCKING ANYTHING I ARGUE IS! YEEEEEARRGGGGH!!!" You yell out into the dark night. Frost forms on your breath. Despite it being summer the Northern chill has set in. You tear your suit and immediately race towards the home of the local booking agent of NOW. You slam your pre-written subpoena into his mail-box, summoning him to meet you at a local brew-ha-ha the next day, with documentary evidence attached to the back proving that you are about to pretend to destroy massive ass in a rasslin' manner. The force of your massive biceps tear the mail-box off its hinges, and for a split second you find yourself concerned that this act of vandalism (not to mention interfering with the national postal service, a severely criminal act) might queer your chances at being admitted into the league. After a moment's contemplation, you chuckle at the realization, slap your knee and loudly proclaim, "Kayfabe! He'll love the demonstration of my strength, and commitment to character!" You then howl a recitation of the Family Act at the moon, and tear off wildly into the night. The mass of excitement amassed in your brain causes an unexpected black out. Hours are lost to your conscious mind before finding yourself suddenly awake and bewildered in the dumpster behind the local pet store. Cockroaches permeate the bin in an unsettling quantity. You recall them being sold there, and suppose only a complete lunatic would be willing to shell out money on the pestilence, probably got dumped here to clear shelf space for some decorative Asian fish.
Also: you stink.
Some drastic action must be taken, your non-functional prop watch does not tell time, and from the angle of the sun, it looks as though your meeting is long past. These are dire days for an aspiring wrestling super star! Only an Archeological-Philosophical-Engineering-Lawyer-Heel could possibly come up with the proper response to this desperate situation!


If you choose to send a clarion call to the cockroaches swarming your body, and carry them off into the community, clearly transcending the boundaries of wrestler/citizen, and becoming an absolute god incarnate for the entire community to see, turn to page YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!


If you choose to exit the dumpster in a panic and race recklessly towards your pre-determined meeting place turn to page RACE AGAINST TIME!


If you choose to go back to sleep because your head is pounding with a malicious migraine turn to page WE UNDERSTAND...... BABY NEEDS THEIR SLEEP.