Pritchard: Alright, after AJ and Daniels finish up, we want Daniels to have a one-off with Roode. We'll plant the seeds for Roode and Joe to have a feud after that, to make Roode look stronger, but focus on Daniels for now. No tangents.
Russo grabs a pencil, fervently beginning to scratch words down on paper. His tongue gently pokes out of the corner of his mouth, a single drop of spittle cascading down the tip and splashing onto the corner of the page, out of reach from any of his wonderful written work. He'd hold the page above his head like he'd just found it in a chest in Zelda, and begin to explain his writing rather noisily.
Russo: OKAY! Well, remember how Daniels was the "Fallen Angel?" Well, God said he could get back into heaven if he beats Roode for the title, so he SENT DOWN A DRAGON TO HELP HIM! It'd be gray obviously, because there's no real faces or heels so you can't have it be black or white, it's gotta be SHADES OF GRAY! Okay, so, Earl Hebner notices it while he's having sex with Traci Brooks -- She's not married to Kazarian this week, it's only WRESTLING, no one will care -- and he says that it can't be directly involved in the match!
At this point, Pritchard is already rubbing his temples, his patience being tried by this "genius" angle.
Russo: So, so, I bet you don't know where I'm going with this. Anyway, the ghost of Jim Cornette comes out and declares that we'll have a DRAGON ON A POLE match! Now, I know you're probably wondering how we're going to get a dr-
Pritchard: Where to commit you?
Russo: HAHA, what a story, Bruce! Anyway, how's your sex life?
Pritchard: ...What?
Russo: How we're going to get a dragon! Well, we're going to take two of Hernandez's twelve cats, and glue them together, and put some papier-mâché horns on it. They won't notice, it's only WRESTLING! Oh, and I get to knock out Ghost Cornette because I'm cooler than him.
Pritchard has already left the room, Russo's masterpiece a flaming pile of excretion in the corner of the room. Somehow, in his incessant rambling, a sticky note had been slapped to his forehead; he peeled it off, glancing down to the words written on it: "No dragons. No ghosts. NO FUCKING POLE MATCHES. Write it again."
Russo looks rather dejected, shoulders slumped to a cartoon-y degree, as he makes his way over to his desk again, having somehow moved across the entire room while telling his brilliant idea; fire would flash in his eyes again, as he skipped the was of the way to his desk, grabbing his pencil and beginning to write again.
Russo: Ha! He didn't say anything about no Traci Books, I KNEW HE LIKED THAT PART! Okay, so, Traci's having sex with Daniels...