So you decide that you are prepared to sally forth-ward into the exciting world of the NOW league with your brand new title.... what was it again? Al Yo Money? Are you kidding me? What a shitty name! You could have been called Boris the Barrister, but you chose AL YO MONEY! Oh wait... does it kind of sound like Alimony? I guess that's almost a pun... slightly clever? No it isn't. It's fucking terrible, and how dare you! Clearly the author of your fate simply got tired and confused and wanted to stop writing for the night, but needed a cheap choice to throw out there to end the segment so that he could go to sleep with a mildly fraudulent sense of accomplishment. He sure had one bang on idea, and just tossed this shit in there as filler and now you want to actually traverse down that stinky hallway and find out what lurks there? Well... ok. I guess. Um...... You go to the match, and uh.... a giant wasp-man thing jumps on you and starts eating your flesh. Or something... I think you won a case for his wasp ex-wife or something. Fucking welfare-hive-queens. It's ridiculous how much scratch they can rake in just by laying on their backs. And now you are on yours, with your entrails hanging out. "ONE....TWO.....THREE.... DISGUSTING WASP MAN THING WINS!" I guess it was worth a shot eh?