Toecutter lounges backstage, a cigar in one hand and a longneck in the other. He nods off, but is woken up and informed his match starts in 10 minutes.
He springs up and throws everything to the ground. He starts to psyche himself up. Making his way to the ring, he stops at every solitary locker and door on the way and slams his head into them at full force.
Arriving just at the other side of the entrance ramp, Toecutter wipes the blood from his forehead and licks his hand clean. He grins and waits for his cue.
He springs up and throws everything to the ground. He starts to psyche himself up. Making his way to the ring, he stops at every solitary locker and door on the way and slams his head into them at full force.
Arriving just at the other side of the entrance ramp, Toecutter wipes the blood from his forehead and licks his hand clean. He grins and waits for his cue.
