Never one to miss the drama when it offers itself, Jeff says that they'll just make this the first matchup, Rocky versus "Dreamz." I'm not sure I've ever seen two guys who have idiotic nicknames they assigned to themselves go at it before outside of actual professional wrestling. They get out onto the platform, and Jeff says "go." Rocky makes a match of it for a while, but he's just not big enough. Whatever you want to say about balance and strategy, this is mostly a challenge that's going to be won by the more substantial person, and there's probably hardly another challenge you could find that's more slanted in favor of people who aren't starving. It's just...watching this skinny guy with his ribs sticking out, fighting this bigger guy who looks like he just got back from a cruise? It's becoming sort of uncomfortable. Imagine how uncomfortable it would be if you cared what happened. Predictably, Rocky gets himself shoved off the platform, and predictably, the fact that they're at such an obvious advantage doesn't stop Moto from hooting Cobra Kai-style over their victory, nor does it stop "Dreamz" from showboating, strolling around the platform waving the padded sofa cushion like it's Rocky's head on a spike. Rocky completely walked into that one and set himself up, and he is named "Rocky," and he is a putz of epic proportions, and Moto still comes off like a bunch of total jackasses. "Dreamz" is right that it really is amazing what you can accomplish if you believe. (Cue "On The Wings Of Dreaming Eagles," the inspirational song my Music Stylist is writing for the American Idol songwriting competition.)