"Mealtime Conversation" We open up and we are outside on the street in broad daylight at a sidewalk cafe. Jackson Cross, Machida Hood, and Vogue Gonsalvez were all sitting at a table, enjoying lunch. Machida Hood had a succulent T-Bone Steak, Vogue was eating a crab salad while Jackson Cross was staring at the back of a Happy Meal Box. "Man... we come ta this upscale joint for some grub an' you still insisted on stoppin' at McDonald's first for a damn Happy Meal... the hell wrong witchu boy?" said Hood. Cross let out a sigh. "Man... eva since ya grilled me about that shit, it's been weighin' on my mind, my brotha. I gotta get this Hamburgler shit straight, man. It's... it's jus' somethin' I gotta do, ya feel me?" said Cross. Vogue and Hood just looked at each other with a "This nigga for real?" look on their faces. Hood then turned and backhanded Cross in the shoulder to get his attention. "Yeah well you need ta wrap up that Hamburgler shit real soon, son. We got our third match with The Natural Athletes next week and it's for those tag team titles, man. Remember how we talked about showin' e'rrybody how we was gonna come up and prove ta people that we could legit be the tag team champions? That we didn't need no help from no Rebellion and shit like that? Well this is that time, man, and instead of focusin' on that.. you focusin' on some damn Hamburgler. Give that shit a rest and man.. order some real food while we here. You see the look the waiter gave ya when you told him you brought ya own lunch then whipped that shit out? Man. I felt embarrassed for ya, you know what I'm sayin'?" Cross took his Happy Meal and flung it over his shoulder. Ironically, it landed perfectly in a trash can and Cross acted like nothing even happened. He just sat there and called over the waiter. "Pssh.. boy got skill" said Vogue. "Yeah he do... I jus' don't think he know it" said Hood. "But he ain't the only one who got skill. Next Sunday.. I'm gonna take that Starlet Championship outta the back woods and bring it to the back alleys. That belt gonna get a new urban home and Tammy Lynn Foster gonna go back home and wrestle some pigs or whatever the hell it is rednecks do in they off time." said Vogue. The waiter arrived. "Yes sir? What may I get for you?" asked the waiter. "Y'all got any hamburgers and fries up in this plan, bro?" asked Cross. Everyone just gave Cross "that look" "I'm sorry sir, we don't serve anything like that. I could get you a nice Filet Mignon and some garlic potatoes. I'm sure you would be delighted with it." said the waiter. "Filet? I don't want no damn fish. I just want some grilled dead cow, man." said Cross Hood backhanded him again. "Yo brain dead. Filet Mignon is STEAK, bro... " said Hood. "Aw shit, for real? Yeah, man.. lemme get some of that, then." said Cross. The waiter let out a heavy sigh and in a dejected tone said.. "Very well sir... I'll have it for you soon." The waiter turned and left. "Shit, brotha.. I didn't know they made steaks outta fish. I gots ta try this shit." said Cross. Hood looked at Vogue. "Yo, this nigga for real? SHEEEEEEEYAT!" said Hood. With that, the scene faded out as Vogue facepalmed, shaking her head.