We cut away to the backstage area, where a visibly-annoyed Kenny Freeman has been sitting for what seems like forever, listening to Randall Schwartz ramble on about god only knows what. Randall is STILL rambling, as a matter of fact…only now we can finally hear what he has to say, and it is a doozy.
Randall Schwartz: So by the time he wrapped up with that final point, I thought to myself…you’re right, I’ve been to the promised land. Cuba is always nice this time of year. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll give this Communism thing a try. What’s the worst that can happen?
Kenny just stares at his wheelchair-bound friend, shaking his head as he scoffs at what the Entertainer has been saying.
Kenny Freeman: My guy, there was a whole ass fall of the Soviet Union. Do you not remember the Cold War, Randall?
Randall Schwartz: Kenny, I’ve lived in Southern California my whole life…cold is not something I’m familiar with, my man.
Kenny just rolls his eyes at this, finally getting back to his feet before approaching the back of Randall’s wheelchair.
Kenny Freeman: Well now that you’ve talked my ear off for at least an hour, can we go home now?
Randall reluctantly nods his head in agreement as Kenny grabs the handles, pushing the Entertainer along as he chimes in again.
Randall Schwartz: I’m just sayin’ Kenny, we can really serve a glorious purpose here! We can be the…the…the Comrades of the Communiverse!
Kenny just looks at him, shaking his head as they start to make their exit.
Randall Schwartz: Right, we can workshop that.
Randall starts mumbling to himself, occasionally mouthing out sounds.
Randall Schwartz: Masters of the…M-m-m…Moscow Multi…no, that can’t be it, hmm…maybe…Moscowverse?
Randall has a think on this, unsure how well that name flows as the B-Team finally walk off, giving us a chance to cut back to ringside.