>So I called up Vince and I told him, “Hey, dude, this Undertaker, this kid’s gonna be somebody, Vince. We gotta give him the strap. Book us for this Summerslam, brother. You know I’m all about putting the new generation over, brother.” So he did and I thought, “cool, I’m gonna go meet this brother and get to know him better.” So I go looking for this Undertaker. Kid’s impossible to find. Took me weeks to finally catch him. I said to him, “brother, I’m putting you over on Summerslam. And I’m happy to do it, but I need a little favor from you, brother. You know that…” Ah, what did he call it? The Dumbstone? The Doomstone? Yeah, the Doomstone. “That, Doomstone, brother, you gotta go easy on my back, cause I got a back problem, brother.” Kid just grunts and says “Mmmm, baddass.” Day of Summerslam comes, fucking kid keeps stiffing me up and down. I tell him, “Easy, brother, easy”, he just keeps going “Mmmm, pure strikes.” Then he picks me up and sets me up for that Doomstone of his. Right away, my back feels like it’s about to snap. I try to yell at him but he’s got me so tight I can’t even breathe. Then he piledrives me and finally lets me go. I croak out, “Ughh, you got me, brother”. He just says, “Mmmm, baddass,” and walks away. Anyway, that was the story of how Undertaker killed me, brother