'Many men have laid claim to being LCW's finest.'

A montage follows featuring pictures of various men hoisting either the Mercury Title or the previous incarnation as the LCW World Title. These pictures are, in order of appearance: Subdued, Gravity, Harbinger, Gravity, Used, then three consecutive shots of Gravity.

So we've figured out who’s doing the voiceover, at least.

'In fact, many of Mercury's current roster have held the gold.'

More shots, now of Geoffrey Slate, Pariah/Keith Summers, Vincent Picasso, and Blake Grumann.

'But none of these men has done the impossible: becoming champion while being associated with Blaise McCoy, or somehow even worse, while BEING Blaise McCoy.”

Fade in on a black room with portraits floating in the void, ala Rod Serling’s other, non-Twilight Zone show, ‘The Night Gallery’. All of these portraits contain the common thread of showing Blaise McCoy bludgeoned, beaten and bloodied. Gravity, in black suit with thin (though they all look thin on him) black tie, smoking a cigarette, walks toward the camera through the slalom course of portraits ala Rod Serling.

“So what exactly is it about him that can bring so many others down? Tonight, we explore what is called by promoters across the world as ‘The Blaise Effect’, but what is more commonly known as the McCoy Curse. The evidence is so plentiful that there seems there must be some sort of scientific explanation. Take these two cases for example. One LCW legend who simply couldn’t be stopped was held down, albeit briefly, by the McCoy Curse, yours truly Gravity.

“And the science doesn’t lie, because once I broke my ties with Blaise McCoy, my career rocketed to the stratosphere. Or take the case of Keith Summers, similarly able to break free of Blaise McCoy’s wake and become a champion multiple times. Meanwhile men like Scott Royal are floundering about, unsure of their futures and guys like HiTech sucked so badly, Blaise himself had to pull him from the roster. Astounding.

“That might point to Blaise’s overwhelming talent and subsequent ability to make wrestlers in his stead more successful, but it doesn’t. Any time Blaise McCoy gets within a sniff of the World Title, he not only loses, but loses in ways that make Barry Horowitz look like Chris Benoit.

“So exactly what is it about Blaise McCoy that turns him into the championship Bermuda Triangle of LCW? We took that question to the streets.”

Cut to exterior shot of a middle-aged white man in business suit looking into the camera in your typical ‘man on the street’ shots, fitting, as he is a man on the street.

“It’s probably because he’s just awful.”

Cut to interior shot, two teenage males at what appears to be a mall.

“Yeah, he just sucks, man.” says the dirty-blonde one, screen left, parroted with a “Yeah, man.” by his shorter hispanic friend screen right.

Gravity’s voice comes in from off screen. “OK, how does he suck?”

The two take a step back at this question and appear deep in thought. Cut to another ‘man on the street’ shot, a 20-something black man whom we join mid-thought. “You can’t explain it. Why does it suck when you step in dog s***? It just does.”

Back to the two teenagers, looking at each other for help. Gravity chimes in again. “Let me rephrase. Is Blaise McCoy’s sucking similar to stepping in dog crap?”

The two look at each other and nod in agreement. “I’d say so.”replies the white one. “...but, like, once a week, at the same time, all the time.” says the hispanic, completing the thought.

Another man on the street shot, this time an attractive woman plucked from the streets of New York, where they travel in droves.

“Sometimes, when my boyfriend and I are watching wrestling, we’ll be laughing and joking, then Blaise McCoy will come on and we both just lose that sparkle in our eyes, we get kinda distant. It’s sad.”

Once more to the teenagers, Gravity picking it up.

“So if you stepped in dog crap, say, every Tuesday when you got home...”

“Right, and even though you knew it was going to happen, you still drag it into the house and it gets in the carpet.” says the hispanic, followed by “And even once you scrape it off, the smell is still there.” from his compatriot.

“So a former champion, a future champion, and me in the corner against dog crap and dog crap’s friend?”

“No chance.” from the dirty blonde, a sentiment echoed from all the participants.

“I don’t think it will be pretty.” says the suit.

“Oh, they’re gonna get rocked.” says the black man.

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” from the pretty one.

Back to Gravity, in the gallery.

“Sad. Dog s***, but worse. Without a snowball’s chance in hell. These are the ridicules that Blaise McCoy faces on a constant basis, yet still, he perseveres, giving new hope to anyone wanting to be good in six months after breaking away from him, all the while providing wrestling fans with an unmatched commitment to mediocrity night in and night out, and the same old tired ‘I’m not going to be kicked around anymore’ promo every six months. Yet there are those that say that try as he might, his overwhelming suck, the McCoy Curse, will prevent him, and anyone in his path from reaching the top. Such a level of fortitude against clearly impossible odds can only be likened to that of a child with severe brain trauma repeatedly slamming their helmeted head into a wall.

“For ‘Inside the Ropes’, I’m Gravity, good night.”

Gravity exits through the pictures, stopping at one particularly gory shot to say “Ooh, bet that hurt like a bitch.” Fade to black.