The next level of subconscious fear comes with the insinuation that if these ultra-advanced creatures exist, and do in fact want to perform ungodly experiments upon you while you rest, that you are never safe. No matter how many trillions are spent on your bloated and disgusting military, Big Brother can do nothing to protect you from the slime robots! JESUS HELP ME! But NO! Not even Christ can help you because the very existence of these doom bots from beyond invalidate your holy book and lay waste to your entire belief system. Barnacles! It's naught but entropy; and you are lost, floating alone in the vast vacuum of space with nothing but your dirty britches to cling to. However; this is hardly the most anxiety inducing element of this most ingenious character. No, the part that truly strikes fear into the hearts of the average wrestling fan, (white, male, ages 8-26) is the guilt and anguish that deep down, in the pit of their hearts, though they would never admit it to another soul, even their own, is that they would enjoy having a finger or two plunged into their own filthy depths, and the bizarre fantasy of an anally probing space monster gets them wet with refuse. It's filthy and sick, but there it is. You've successfully made the fans squirm their unsullied bottoms against their seats and cheer furiously for whoever your adversary is, to smother you beneath their sweaty, hairless, oiled up body, burying their shame for good in manly B.O. .
You've truly done it now! You even have a brilliant model for your character. Your weird uncle always claimed he'd been abducted and had horrible things done to his heiny. Your mom stopped inviting him to Christmas dinners, but it still left an indelible mark upon your budding childhood. You don't think he'd mind if you named the character after him. Bobby-Jayne The Butt-Lore. Your schtick will be to enter the ring muddy and disheveled, torn plaid shirts and bayou style fedora. If you could grow a handle-bar mustache the ruse would be fully actualized, but you have no time for tackling trivialities like that. Leave it for a weaker character concept. You have stashed enough goods to triumph as is. You'll start by berating the sheep for not looking to the skies and seeing the surprise. Trusting their government, black suited officers sweeping away evidence in the dead of night, weather balloons, all that. Then; when it's time to really rile them up, start asking how many audience members have ever been probed. Single some out... oh man... put them in the hot seat, this is going to be EPIC! Your finishing move will of course be to hold down your opponent and finger probe them into submission until they admit that they believe in aliens and pray that they will descend upon them with their heaviest gauged instruments. Oh glory! Halleluiah! It's all lining up! There is only one question left; should you barge into the league commissioner's house and demand a spot in his lineup, or should you instead attempt to do the ultimate research and make yourself an attractive target for an abduction so that you can really get into your character.
