It had been a while since Chris had ventured into the streets. To be honest it had been too quiet for too long, and what activity there had been left the once hallowed pavements smelling lick the Venice Canals. Chris as always was impeccably dressed, sporting a Navy Brioni suit, designed by Gaetano Savini and Nazareno Fonticoli, and a pristine white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. The Austerity of the war years was gone, and a more “continental style” or Roman-style suit was starting to change fashion for ever. Double vented, jetted pockets, and slightly angled, things that would continue to be used in suit design for the next 70 years at least. Of course, the look wouldn't be complete without the Rock's Trade Mark sunglasses.

Walking into the cold winter sunlight, Chris shook hands with people before taking his place on speakers corner... he loved a good pastiche. Smiling broadly as people stopped wondering what words of enlightenment he had to share, Chris spoke.

"Finally... the Rock, has returned... to the streets. You see the Rock owes the people, owes the Rock's people an apology. The Rock has been rather lack lustre in coming out to greet the millions... and millions of the Rock's fans. Simple fact of the matter is this, the Rock has been busy. The Rock has been busy whooping ass and laying the smacketh down. You see, a little while ago Isabella came up to the Rock, approached the Rock, discussed the People's strudel with the Rock. The Rock could see she was moist... with perspiration, from all the hard work she was doing here in Las Vegas..."

Chris smiled to himself as the crowd went wild at the cheap pop, mentioning the name of Las Vegas.

"The Rock isn't slow. The Rock saw with his own two eyes the state of play in the six cities when he arrived. The Rock knew that some people were working moves and paying their dues whilst others were simply acting like a home Movie of the Big Slow played back at 1/2 speed."

Chris re-enacted the Big Show's signature of raising his arm in the air and grimacing... just really slowly whilst letting out a half assed anguished cry.

"Some jabroni called FutureStealer needed a hand. Not just any hand, a left hand. Now The Rock thought back a few years, back to when he was the Rockfather, back to when he was on top of the world as Godfather Chairman of New York, and the Rock remembers a little FutureStealer running round Detroit City (another cheap pop) as part of The Throne Room. He was all cute a cuddly, like two baby raccoons playing in the snow. So the Rock agreed to be a Hand, to be FutureStealer's Left hand, and he single handedly slapped all the jabroni's in FutureStealer's crew into shape. But Isabella wasn't done. Isabella wanted a crew of her own, a family of her own. So she came to the Rock and asked the Rock to make it so. So the Rock went to FutureStealer and told him how it was going to be, and Stealer said, "Sure Rocky, no problem Champ. But I need you to go with her. Isabella hasn't been around for a while, and she sometimes likes to run her mouth. So I need you Rocky to go with her and make sure she is OK." Well the Rock was OK with this, the Rock was no stranger to trash talking himself, the Rock even talks trash in his sleep... 'Roody poo candy ass... Lay the Smackdown... Kuku is an ugly Hermaphrodite...' You know what the Rock means. 

So the Rock went with Isabella. The Rock single handedly built her HQ, fortifying it with his own testicular fortitude. Then he went forth like any Good Right Hand would do, and he walked up Know your Role Boulevard, and he marched down jabroni drive, and he rounded up all the 10lb sacks of Monkey crap in 5lb bags and he forged them into the best damn Family Las Vegas has ever seen. Dank, Whatsername... actually Whatsername is probably off getting drunk for her birthday, Guy, JimmyJr, even that jabroni Ragnarok... yeah the Rock remembers you too Jabroni. You were a CL back when the RockFather ruled the six cities, leader of The Dock Workers. 

So The Rock has been busy. But the Rock hasn't been that busy. The Rock has kept an eye to the streets. The Rock has heard his name mentioned by LiquidFareham, the last Fareham, the not in the blue hell is he Kuku Fareham, in The Harold of the Underworld. The Rock is also aware that out of the Millions... and millions of the Rocks fans, there is one fan who craves the Rock's attention more than any other. One little jabroni who lives to get a mention from the Rock. Some of you may know of him. Some call him a Troll, because he does look like one. Some call him a Monkey's nipple, because in truth he has the intellect of one. Yet other's refer to him as a big, stinking pile of Monkey crap. But do you know what? The Rock isn't even going to mention his name. Sure the Rock Could call him Queen Jabroni, or Twiglett. The Rock could say he looks like a Bloated Transvestite Wonder Woman Ready to Fight Crime. In fact the Rock could even tell him to go Right Back to the Waffle House and Sling Hash All Day. But the simple fact of the matter is this. It doesn't matter what his name is. The Rock is not interested in you, was not interested in you, and never will be interested in you.

It's time for you to know your role, and shut your mouth jabroni. You come out here bending the truth, spouting lies and falsehoods like some rank amateur journalistic version of Old Faithful. The Rock see's you jabroni, the Rock see's you. But the Rock doesn't care for you. The Simple fact of the matter is this, the Rock gets more pie in a single day than you get in your whole damn life, so why would the Rock ever have any interest in you? Its clear that not a single generation of your family can go by without calling out the Rock's name. Not a single one without trying to get the Rock's attention. 'Rocky, Rocky, oh please see me, please pay me attention, I want you Rocky, I need you Rocky...' awww shut the hell up jabroni. You are pathetic. Grow up, get a life, not the Rock's, and move on. 

So finally... and the Rock does mean finally, how far must you have sunk when even Tutte doesn't take pity on you any more, and simply ridicules your existence? So take your little snooze paper of lies, polish it up real good, shine shine, shine shine, turn that sumbitch sideways, and stick it straight up your candy ass! If you smellllah... waht the Rock, is cookin'!"

Chris takes out his sunglasses, cocks the people's eyebrow and walks off back to the HQ, leaving the millions... and millions of his fan's chanting his name over and over.

"Well now, it appears that in your lengthy speech you have somewhat missed the point.  See, the question on everyone's lips is 'why did Vidal kill Freddy?' 

And the thing is, we don't know.  That got a newspaper written about it.  As to why you killed LostBoy, and why there hasn't been a writing competition since that one your ol' grandpa managed...  Well, not many people are asking.  But that doesn't mean they don't deserve to be told the TRUTH. 

And the truth is I asked someone to kill someone for me.  They said no.  So it didn't get off of the ground.  Who is that person?  Well, you'll be waiting."