DISC 1 TRACK 1: Welcome to the Revolution
DISC 1 TRACK 2: Joe Will Survive
DISC 1 TRACK 3: \m/
DISC 1 TRACK 4: Grand Prix Qualifier Highlights
DISC 1 TRACK 5: Diplomatic Immunity
DISC 1 TRACK 6: Hostile Negotiations
DISC 1 TRACK 7: Grand Prix Qualifier: Impulse vs. Almasy
DISC 1 TRACK 8: Cleanliness is NOT SARSliness
DISC 2 TRACK 9: 3 O’CLOCK Afternoon Special
DISC 2 TRACK 10: Burning the Boats
DISC 2 TRACK 11: Rook Black vs. Steve Knox vs. The Uber Judge
DISC 2 TRACK 12: Back and Blueberry
DISC 2 TRACK 13: \m/\m/
DISC 2 TRACK 14: TITLE vs TITLE – Nova © vs. Teresa Quaranta ©
DISC 2 TRACK 15: The Seeker
DISC 2 TRACK 16: The Hollywood Wrecking Crew vs. The Suicide Kings

Welcome to the Revolution

Originally taped for broadcast: June 15, 2008

(FADEIN: A prison cell. BROCK ALYAS is sitting in it, cracking his knuckles and wearing an orange New Jersey State prison jumpsuit. He looks up as he hears a knock on the bars.)

ALYAS: “Who the hell are you?”

OFF-SCREEN V/O: “The only guy willing to bail out a dumb enough prick to drive down I-95 at 100 miles per hour with a loaded weapon stuffed in his pants.”

ALYAS: (smirking) “What’s the catch?”

(FADETOBLACK)


*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*


ANDREW ANTHONY V/O: “ESEN – It’s in the ring.”

(A muffled background of crowd cheers, stomps and claps are heard, while the first few seconds of airtime are simply a black screen.)

KERRY O’CONNOR V/O: “For 8 years, New Frontier Wrestling has prided itself as the GREASTEST WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT that the world has EVER seen. 8 years later, off the heels of the immortalized Wrestlestock Two…no wrestling promotion matches OUR EXCELLENCE…and OUR DESIRE to leave everything we’ve got in every arena we visit. So, why don’t we stop? Why aren’t we happy with where we are?”

(SUPERSONIC FAST-FORWARD MONTAGE: WILDSTAR/CAMPBELL in the Vault! BLOODHUNT/ZANE Buried Alive! MONTEZUMA wearing a turban! SOUTHERN accidentally superkicking RYCONIK! MANSON locked in the MONTY’S Tarantula! MANSON in a wheelchair! SOUTHERN raising the World Championship! The NFW Season 1 Draft Class! …all of a sudden, the footage turns black and white, the film bubbling and bursting until there’s nothing but a white screen…and the background crowd noise getting louder – chants of “NF-DUB!” rocking!)

KERRY O’CONNOR V/O: “Because we are now the FOREFATHERS of the WRESTLING REVOLUTION. Because we are now the TEACHERS, the SPIRITUAL LEADERS and the FOUNDATION of where this sport is going to be after where it has come from. What we have learned from those that have FALLEN around us is that our PAST GLORIES mean nothing in the face of a FUTURE GENERATION. That our HERITAGE is our bond in the ring, where the NAMES and FACES should change without fear. We are the seekers of something brilliant and a landscape always changing…for we will always find…THE NEW FRONTIER. ”

(FADEIN: Hershey Arena enveloped in pitch black, while glittering and sparkling like an Appalachian Mountain moonlit night. Camera flashes are flickering, lighters are igniting…)

CROWD: “NF-DUB! NF-DUB! NF-DUB!”

(SFX: The THX rev-up! Crowd roars!)

(CUTTO: THE STAR-TRON blasting white spotlights out of its spokes, which starts swaying and swerving around the arena to a crowd explosion. The CRIMSON STAR of the Wrestling Revolution envelops its screen, while the surrounding SMOKEscreens follow suit.)

O’CONNOR: (V/O) “HERSHEY AHHHHHHHREEEEEEEENAH! (LOUD EXPLOSION!) YOUUUUUUUUUU HAVE REEEEEEEEACHED GROUND ZERO! AND THIS! ISSSSSSSS! (w/crowd) CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRASH TEEEEEEEEEEEEEE VEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

(OVERHEAD-CAM: The crowd leaping in a frenzy and shoving their signs towards the ceiling! “TITLE for TITLE! TESTICLES for TITS! NOVA! TQ! Only on ESEN!”, “3 O’CLOCK HIGH? How ‘bout ALL THE TIME HIGH!” “I cut myself watching Suicide King promos!” “BROCK ALYAS was just told to touch his toes!” “Felix Red – Killing Columbia’s drug supply one day at a time! DARE TO BE DIFFERENT!” “CAN I HAS VARGA and LEGION DEATHMATCH PLEASE?” The camera rises up towards the rafters amidst the showering sparks from the exploding pyrotechnics. CUTTO: KERRY O’CONNOR and LAMONT HOLLYWOOD standing inside the ring as fireworks explode everywhere! H’WOOD smiles brightly, his gold-rimmed sunglasses accentuated by his white Panama slacks, matching sportcoat/shoes (no socks), white and gold trimmed collared shirt with a mid-length matching ascot. O’CONNOR looks out the crowd with a wide smile and wearing his signature navy jacket and khaki pants combo.)

O’CONNOR: “Its good to be BACK in Pennsylvania, Woodman! We’re looking at a cold, smooth CRASH ‘COLT 45’ TELEVISION SPECIAL! (loud pop!) We’ve got a bevy of not only star-studded matches and wild possibilities emanating from each and every match – but starting from the Tag Team Title main event all the way through the Grand Prix qualifiers, there’s a lot of blood brewing from Wrestlestock Two (LOUD POP!) and our survival of one month in the Big Apple! (LOUD BOOS!) Now, we begin our summer-long trek to SUPERCRASH 2 and it’s already hot as HELL in the New Frontier!”

H’WOOD: “Y’know something, Beanfry…I look at all these fans hating on New York and I’ve got no doubts on why we’re not looking at a bevy of porkers in the audience tonight. Instead, we’ve got a bunch of sugar-cracked out, cow tipping in-bred hicks. (LOUD BOOS!) That being said, even though that’s at the heart of Rayne and DC’s peoples, in the main event tonight…The HOLLYWOOD Wrecking Crew will get REVENGE once and for all!”

O’CONNOR: (over boos!) “I don’t know about Lamont, considering the recent absence of Calvin Carlton…I’d suspect the field has been leveled so to speak.”

H’WOOD: “The field is NEVER level as long as an OXONIAN stands on it…unless he’s riding a horse, of course.”

O’CONNOR: “That’s not all we’ve got! Only in NFW will you find a Tag Team Championship match with so much hatred that it’d supersede NOVA and TERESA QUARANTA from engaging in TITLE VS. TITLE Warfare! (LOUD CHEERS!) We could have three new champions out of two title matches tonight. The UNDEFEATED Quaranta takes on the volatile World Champion who paved the way for Dan Ryan’s EXODUS out of New Frontier Wrestling.”

H’WOOD: “Have we had a physician ask Teresa to cough yet?”

O’CONNOR: “Um, no.”

H’WOOD: “We should, just to be sure. There’s just something hanging around her that I don’t trust.”

O’CONNOR: “Speaking of trust, there’s a special 6-man tag match with title shots on the line as the ‘Old School’ of Jason Payne, Cameron Cruise and Triple X take on the ‘New School’ in the Dream Team and Brock Alyas. Only if you haven’t heard Alyas was ARRESTED two days ago and we’re still not sure if he’s going to make the show or not!”

H’WOOD: “Well, that’s what he gets for promoting the show on the open streets with a loaded weapon and not checking if he’s scared any grandmothers spying out their windows.”

O’CONNOR: “That’s how the story went down as she called in Alyas’ plates, then New Jersey state troopers pulled him over for doing nearly 100 down I-95. It seems he’s been bailed out, but we have no further information on the matter.”

H’WOOD: “The Wrestling Revolution: Fighting for a Nuttier Second Amendment.”

O’CONNOR: “Speaking of nuts, Rook Black…The Uber Judge…Steve Knox. An AWESOME Triple Threat match that will determine the challenger to the National Championship on our next Crash Television show! Nova, Teresa Quaranta…whoever loses their match faces the winner of this one. Knox was just named June’s Wrestler of the Month and the Uber Judge has made his presence felt early. Meanwhile, Rook Black doesn’t seem to like the Uber Judge particularly much either.”

H’WOOD: “If I tried to wrap my brain around that situation, it’d start frying like bacon. I do know that Felix Red is the ONLY person who knows the identity of the Uber Judge, but I don’t know if I’d trust his eyes on remembering anything.”

O’CONNOR: “Felix will have to deal with his own issues as we’ve got a panel of judges here for the Grand Prix qualifiers. While there are three separate matches happening tonight, the judges are on hand to seed out the actual tournament based on each wrestler’s performance in the ring.”

(CUTTO: WILDSTAR at ringside, waving at the camera…NATHAN STORM, a former Diamond Exchange member sitting stone-faced beside him.)

O’CONNOR: “That’s one of the judges in Wildstar. The three matches tonight will be, IMPULSE vs. ALMASY, LEGION vs. LORD COYNER POLLARD (boos!) and JAMES VARGA (BOOS!) vs. FELIX RED! (cheers!) Each in their own right should be VERY interesting.”

H’WOOD: “Well…we know the results of some, Beanfry.”

O’CONNOR: “Well, its supposed to be a surprise.”

H’WOOD: “I’ll give you a surpr—“

Back to the TOC

JOE WILL SURVIVE

(SFX: DOGS BARKING!)

H’WOOD: “What the deuce?”

(CUE: “Dog Shit” – Wu-Tang Clan)

[Ol Dirty Bastard]
All y'all bitches put your naps together
And all you (BLEEP!) put your dicks together, bitch

[Ol Dirty starts singing]
Hoeeeee! Yah ha heh
De, hayyyy! Ah ha he hay
De, haaaaa! Errr hah hahhhr
Haaaaaaaah He hawww, heahh

(CUTTO: The curtain parts and JOE THE PLUMBER makes his arrival, head bandaged up, dragging the TV championship belt behind him. QUICK CUTTO: O’CONNOR and H’WOOD both looking shaken!)

H’WOOD: (V/O) “I-I-I am saving this outfit!”

(H’WOOD bolts out of the ring, O’CONNOR hesitates for a second and then follows suit, but leaves his microphone in the ring. The crowd roars as JTP stands tall! It’s been a while since NFW fans have seen the self-proclaimed Sucka-Free Bouse, and in that time, he’s been laid up in a comatose state, biding his time, waiting, preparing to make his return as soon as, you know, he woke up and got his legs working again. Those little sh*ts were like jelly. JOE steps through the ropes and fetches the mic left from O’CONNOR, before walking back over and standing in the centre of the ring.)

JTP: “All right, OKKAAAYYY, settle ya’selves ya little friggers! Ol’ Joe has some shit on his mind that needs speakin’ and he ain’t gonna wait around while y’all pleasure ya’selves to the outline of my dick in my brand-new, swanky coveralls… the denim needs time to loosen as my old pair had to be cut from my body on account`a the fact that when I arrived at the hospital my whole entire body has swelled up to twice its normal size… dunno why, dunno how… but I gots the stretch marks to prove it!

“Now, Ol’ Joe’s a bit crabby havin’ just woke up six hours ago and flown in ‘ere on a shitty ass, neglectful, racist airplane where they wouldn’t serve me ma’ mid-flight shot of patron… and why? Well, maybe ‘cuz I was already polluted when I arrived at the airport, but who the f*ck gets to make THAT decision, eh? It’s like, ‘Sure, I’m hammed, I’m REALLY hammed if ya wanna get real about it – but maybe, just maybe, I need one more drink to set my nerves at ease… YOU GON’ DENY ME THAT, AIRWAITRESSES? HUH? YA GONNA DENY OL’ JOE, WHO’S BEEN LAID UP FOR GOD KNOWS HOW LONG, THE BEVERAGE OF HIS CHOOSING?’

“Ah friggg afffffff…. that’s bullshit!”

(JOE’s begun to pace. It’s plain to see that he’s worked himself into a frenzied mess just now in true JTP fashion and has completely lost track of what he’d wanted to say. Suddenly he stops and raises a vertical finger to the audience.)

JTP: “Ah yeah, `BOUT THAT WRESTLESTOCK BUSINESS…

“So, on the plane ride over here, to distract myself from the altitude and the kid next to me that smelled like piss, I watched some of the unedited WrestleStock footage that the company sent me… guess they wanted me to know what’s what and who the f*cker was that put Ol’ Joe on the shelf…”

(JOE turns to the nearest camera, gets up right close to its lens, and snarls – like the grizzled beast that he is.)

JTP: “CLOWN, I’M LOOKIN’ AT YOU!”

(JOE reaches up and TEARS the bandage from around his head; underneath, a fully healed scar.)

JTP: “If ya think for one second that you put Ol’ Joe out of commission for good, you’re dumber and crazier than I am! Y’see, `cuz I’m un-killable! CAN’T BE KILLED! And the funny thing is, even though you smashed open my skull like a watermelon and gave me brain damage, YOU - DID - NOT - WIN!

“YA STUPID F*CK, YA LOST! YA LOST! NO BELT FOR YOU! YA TRIEEED, YA FOUGHT TO THE BURGER, YA DID EVERY DIRTY, NASTY, PERVERTED TRICK IN THE BOOK… AND YA COULDN’T BEAT JOE! SO THE SIMPLE FACT OF THE MATTER IS, I’M NOT ONLY UNBEATABLE, I’M UN-KILLABLE! TWENTY-NINE OTHER MEN COULDN’T STOP THE PANDEMIC THAT IS JOE THE PLUMBER! MANAGEMENT WAS SCREAMIN’, CRYIN’, PISSIN’ THEIR ALREADY PISS-SOAKED PANTIES, WANTIN’ SOMEONE, ANYONE, TO STEP UP AND BEAT ME `CUZ I AIN’T MARKETABLE, I AIN’T PRETTY; I AM, HOWEVER, A BUCKET OF OOZING FILTH JUST WAITIN’ TO BE STEPPED IN! BECAUSE WHEN YA PISS OL’ JOE OFF, WHEN YOU TRESSPASS ON ‘IM, YA GET GOT FROM ALL AVENUES!”

(JOE’s emotional, maniacal tirade elicits another massive POP from the crowd, as he huffs and puffs back to relative coherence, almost keeled over from the non-stop ranting at the top of his lungs.)

JTP: “Clown, you’re first on my list. The rest of the fuckers that were present at the end of the match – that Mike Cocks fella, that Impulse fella – they’re secondary to me. Simply put, they ain’t got what it takes to even challenge me. I’m a beast, I’d eat them alive one-on-one… but clown, you and I were practically MADE for each other… I look at you, with yer make-up and yer tight pants, and I think, ‘If I was gay – like if I was into men – we’d probably f*ck backstage on a regular basis and it’d be a dirty little secret that you and I share.’ BUT I DON’TZ LIKE MEN AND I AIN’TZ GAY, AND YOU SIR ARE MAKING ME QUESTION MY SEXUALITY! SO IN JOE’S MIND THAT’S A FULL ON BLITZ ON EVERYTHING THAT I REGARD AS TRUTH! I WANNA BEAT THE ROUGE FROM YER CHEEKS, I WANNA SLAP THE LIPSTICK FROM YER MOUTH, I WANNA PULL OUT – NAY, HAUL OUT – MY RAVENOUS COCK AND WHIP YOU WITH IT TILL YER A PUDDLE OF LIQUID FAG ON THE MAT! YOU MAY BE A WORTHY ADVERSARY – YOU MAY BE A BEAST IN YER OWN RIGHT – BUT WHAT YOU *AIN’T* IS JOE THE PLUMBER… AND WHAT YOU *AIN’T* IS THE MAN WHO’S GONNA TAKE MY TITLE!”

(JOE looks as though he’s about to drop the mic and make his exit, but stops and brings the mic back up to his lips, turning back in mid-stride to face the crowd…)

JTP: “And one last thing…

“NOVA.”

(CROWD EXPLOSION! JOE’s face twitches…)

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you either, ya prick. You’re still public enemy number one for Ol’ Joe! When the time comes for you and I to meet... and believe me I’ve been BEGGING AND PLEADING for my shot at yer title… I’m gonna be ready. I already hold a victory over yer mangy ass… something very few people can say… so one way or another, whether I have to hold someone at gunpoint or break a face with an ice cream scoop… I’ll GET my shot! You can’t duck me forever, Nova, you know it and I know it! One day you’ll run out of places to hide… yer like fuckin’ Ann Frank and I’m like the Nazis… a whole big mess of Nazis… only this time you’re gonna get found and when ya do you’re gonna get EVERYTHING taken from you, just like you took everything from me way, way back when I was just a boy! You’re gonna get your pride, your dignity, your manginity, your MOTHERF*CKIN’ LIIIIIFEEE, and last but CERTAINLY not least YOUR CHAMPIONSHIP taken from you… I’m gonna rape and pillage my way to the top and you will undoubtedly prove to be my greatest bounty! I WILL CHERISH THAT MOMENT FOREVER AND EVER! IT WILL BE SO, SOOO SWEET!”

(CUE: “Dog Shit” – Wu-Tang Clan)

(The mic dropped the canvas with a resounding BZZZzzzzt~!.

As Joe went to leave, someone – actually TWO someones – discretely entered the ring from the opposite side…BIG BILL JUDO on one side, a mysterious black masked man on the other who is holding a chair!

O’CONNOR: (over audio screech) “Welcome to Crash TV! Welcome to hysteria! And Joe the Plumber may have to welcome his arch-nemesis Big Bill Judo! (LOUD CHEERS!) JOE TURNS AROUND! BILL HAS TO STOP IN HIS TRACKS!”

H’WOOD: (over headphone crackling) “Y’know, after 45 shows you’d expect things to go normally!”

O’CONNOR: “Joe’s got Judo wrapped around the throat! Big Bill was the man that helped FINANCE the Television Title Royale because of some longstanding grudge he’s held with Joe over the last decade! I think he was out here for revenge! (cheers!) But now he’s getting a couple of headbutts to his noggin’ for the trouble! Bill with a wild right, Joe ducks! (loud cheers!) Inverted Atomic Drop by the Television Champion Bill’s cross-legged, Joe’s raising his arm in the air!”

(THWACK! LOUD BOOS!)

O’CONNOR: “OHHHHHHHHHHH! That masked man just BLASTED Joe across the back of the head with that chairshot!”

H’WOOD: “And you know it was a good one since the chairseat just hit some poor sap in the second row…”

O’CONNOR: “WAIT! NO! (loud groans!) Oh god, the masked man just jackhammered the chairframe into Joe’s head! He’s laughing maniacally in the ring, he’s higher-pitched than a hyena! Bill’s rolling out of the ring to crowd boos, the masked man’s leaving Joe behind…”

(CLOSEUP: JOE’S eyes fluttering, froth foaming out of his mouth…blood seeping out of his head bandage…)

O’CONNOR: “Dear God…we’ll be right back.”

Back to the TOC

\m/

CUT TO: Outside the Hershey Arena. A dingy 4-Runner zips up to the loading dock, and smoke billows out into the warm summer Pennsylvania as NOVA and his long-time industry pal (and the only person who makes the EAGLEstar into the ‘straight man’ by comparison!) the ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER and TIME BABY climb out. The NFW World Heavyweight Champion is covered in soot, and parts of his hair and beard are singed. He begins storming off angrily towards the side entrance, a fact that escapes FACEY until he looks up from tending to the still-lit blunt in his hands.)

I.F.E.: “Heeeey bro, if you don't wanna blaze, it's chill - but please don't try and ditch me again! I'm afraid of loneliness!”

(NOVA spins around, jabbing a finger towards the FACE-EATER.)

NOVA: “I don’t really wanna talk to you right now. I’m going inside to get cleaned up and ready for my TITLE DEFENSE in an hour or two.”

(FACEY sprints up ahead of NOVA and puts one arm out in a halting gesture. The other, naturally, is cradling TIME BABY, who is smiling like a miniature ****-head.)

I.F.E.: “Hey, are you peeved about the lake cabin? That place was a SHACK, dude."

NOVA: "It was over 3,500 square feet!"

I.F.E.: "...I say good riddance. The Time Baby Bandits probably did you a solid by-”

NOVA: (Covering his ears) “Gaaah, enough, enough!! I don’t know what the F(BLEEP!)K you’re talking about! I have to go defend the WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP and I look like a friggin’ chimney sweep! Before you blew a hole in the front door of what USED to be my house I was actually wishing for a friend to come along and help STABILIZE my head, not inject it full of more Fantasy Land BULLSH-”

(SFX: BOOOOOOOOOOM~!!! Without warning the 4-Runner explodes, flipping over onto its side and belching a fireball into the air. NOVA and FACEY are thrown backwards onto the pavement. The EAGLEstar turns to the FACE-EATER, who’s grinning in that “Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ ta do” kind of way. TIME BABY, meanwhile, is miraculously unscathed and still smiling aimlessly. And why should there be a reason? He's a ****ing baby, and probably extremely stimulated.)

NOVA: “I think you were sent to punish me for what happened in Randalls’ locker room.”

I.F.E.: “You think this is MY fault?!”

NOVA: “Somehow, at the end of the day, Face? Yeah, I do.”

I.F.E.: "HEY. I told you to stop ranting. I AM THE ONE THAT RANTS. Every-motherf(bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep)itch-fisting-time that YOU do it, something blows up!"

NOVA: "No, something blows up any time you take a g(BLEEP!)ddamn breath!"

I.F.E.: " I -"

(SFX: KICKWHAMBLADOW! All of the NFW REVOLUTION Loading Trucks EXPLODE, heralding the opening of a large Time Portal in the center of the destruction.)

NOVA: "What did I just say!?"

I.F.E.: "SHUT UP AND RUN, FOOL. Colapsis and the UnFunky Bandits of Time are here for the Time Baby!"

NOVA: (Under his breath) "I am way to pissed off to note how awesome that would be for a band name."

(NOVA and FACEY w/ TIME BABY begin sprinting towards the arena, ignoring the security guards that stand at the entrance who are far too captivated by the Time Portal to notice the World Champ, his lackey and a baby run past. They make it safely inside before any one can step out of the Portal. But it isn't long before the two awe-stricken guards are graced with the presence of COLAPSIS THE UNFUNKY, graced in armor that renders him the part of a second-rate Lord Zed, and his army of TIME BANDITS.

If you're imagining what a TIME BANDIT looks like, just think of the Smokers from 'Waterworld', only dirtier, and you're pretty much there.)

COLAPSIS: "KILL THE BABY!"

SECURITY GUARD #1: (to SECURITY GUARD #2) "Are you sure these Mollys aren't bunk?"

(FADE TO BLACK, then...)

Back to the TOC

Grand Prix Qualifiers Highlights

(FADEIN: Back LIVE! and the Hershey Revolution is SLAMMIN as the crowd is going to town… and by that I mean that there’s more chronic smoke in the air than spotlights and you’d be a monkeys uncle to believe they ain’t enough spotlights to give the average oriental boy a 15 minute seizure.)

O’CONNOR: “Welcome back fans. We had two dark matches this evening for the Grand Prix qualifiers…we’re going to show you James Varga vs. Felix Red in its entirety, then the finish to Lord Coyner Pollard taking on Legion.”

H’WOOD: “And I thought NFW had stopped testing animals.”

O’CONNOR: “Sit back and enjoy folks, when we return after these matches – it’ll be Impulse vs. Almasy LIVE!”

(QUICK CUTTO: LEE-BABY standing in the ring, the words “Earlier this evening…” transposed for a moment.)

LEE-BABY SIMS: “This next match coming to you live is featuring two combatants competing to qualify for the GRAND PRIX TOURNAMENT THAT HAS KICKED OFF HERE IN HERSHEY!”

H’WOOD: “ANYBODY… ANYBODY but James Varga… please,”

(CUEUP – Halloween 2. Hallo-F*CKING-ween 2 theme. Whose coming out? MICHAEL MYERS. No… instead it’s James Varga. Yes, James Varga.)

LEE-BABY SIMS: “On his way to the ring, standing six foot, one inch tall… weighing in at two-hundred thirty five pounds wrestling out of Las VEGAS , NEVADA … he is “The Violator” JAMES… VARRRGAAAA!”

O’CONNOR: “Well the fans here couldn’t be more… monotone for the fact that were about to see Mr. James Varga in action here. He’s a fire-starter indeed and a costly mistake could make for Varga’s advancement in this tournament, HOLLYWOOD ”

H’WOOD: “He’s a chump. I can’t wait ‘til we see who he’s up against,”

(CUEUP – “Vicarious” by Tool and that means only one thing. FELIX RED. The arena’s source of electricity is cut off as some of the whacks are actually attempting to take pictures as flashes are seen all around the arena. The song kicks into life before the Hershey Arena literally turns an incarnation of WoodStock and fans all around are head bangin’, snortin’ Hollywoods (most are using their cell-phones as lighting so they don’t miss a crum.) and taking any kind of methamphetamine you could name.)

LEE-BABY SIMS: “WEIGHING IN AT… TWO-HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE POUNDS AND STANDING AT SIX-FEET TWO-INCHES… HE IS… FELIX…. REEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!”

H’WOOD: “Oh man… believe it or not, O’CONNOR – I’m pretty stoked about this match-up. I mean, it doesn’t matter who gets the tar kicked out of ‘em! AHA!”

O’CONNOR: “I’d love to know when it ever has mattered to you, but none the less we’ve got what looks to be a pretty… violent match-up as we have “The Violator” taking on a man very well deserving of that nick-name and argueably so quite possibly the most perverse, sick and twisted athlete in sports entertainment,”

H’WOOD: “He’s sick alrite… CUT THAT HAIR ALLREADY, MEAT”

(CLOSEUP – FELIX RED being searched for foreign objects as he’s looking right thru JAMES VARGA with a malicious smile on his face as he licks his lips making VARGA feel quite uncomfortable with making eye contact.)

O’CONNOR: “There’s the bell and let’s wait and see who gets out on-top first here, LAMONT. Both men circling the ring awaiting the other to make a move before VARGA… OH MAN! VARGA went in for the leg-sweep but he was DENIED! FELIX RED with a brilliant kick to the head sent VARGA into la-la land and I don’t think he’s got any plans about leaving soon!”

H’WOOD: “Oh yeah, early mistake there by VARGA. I mean, you can’t approach FELIX RED like that, what are ya new around here!?”

O’CONNOR: “New he is but say what you’d like about the man… he sure knows how to stir up a pot if you know what I mean! … VARGA happens to slip out of FELIX RED’s headlock attempt and sends himself into the opposing ropes hoping for some leverage and a takedown in his favour! RED determines VARGAs move and runs in the same direction using the second rope to backflip over VARGA as he tightly follows… FELIX RED LATCHES ONTO VARGAS HEAD AND TAKES HIM DOWN QUICKLY TO THE MAT!”

H’WOOD: “OH BABY! That was nearly a reverse DDT, meat!”

O’CONNOR: “Whatever it was, it worked! The unorthadox FELIX RED has bought himself some time to soak up in the glory of his fans showing their appreication.”

H’WOOD: “Is that somebody getting their nipple peirced at ring-side during a FELIX RED match?”

O’CONNOR: “Meanwhile in the ring VARGA squirms out of a pinfall attempt as FELIX slams his hand to the match at the fact he couldn’t put this one away early. FELIX gets back to his feet to acknowledge the fans for a quick second to turn around and OH MAN! RECEIVE A DROP KICK SQUARE IN THE NOSE”

H’WOOD: “YEAH BOY!”

O’CONNOR: “VARGA’s back on his feet stomping mudholes into the back of FELIX’s head as RED attempts covering up. RED wisely takes the bout to the ground with a quick leg sweep and VARGA gets out of harms way by evading anything further by sliding out of the ring. FELIX looks directly in the eyes of VARGA before scaling the rest of the crowd with a menacing smile on his face. RED walks towards the apron as the count continues past 15 and REDs looking to make VARGA pay for any attempt anywhere near the ring!”

(CLOSEUP – VARGA being drenched in a front-row spectator and just as VARGA turns you can catch FELIX RED ascending the nearest turnbuckle in the corner of the screen.)

H’WOOD: “HEADS UP!”

O’CONNOR: “OH MY GAWWWWD! FELIX RED JUST JUMPED OFF THE TOP TURNBUCKLE AND DELIVERED A SPINNING HEEL KICK TO THE BACK OF VARGA’S HEAD! The crowd is going wild and I’m not sure how worthy that leap of faith really was as both men are laid out ringside. The official continues the count past 12 and FELIX begins to stir with the evil grin he’s had on his face the entire night. The fans are eating it up as FELIX sends VARGA back into the ring by his hair.”

H’WOOD: “Oh MAN! VARGA’s locks aren’t going to feel good tomorrow!”

O’CONNOR: “FELIX has VARGA in the ring right where he wants him before… is that LEGION and LUCI4?”

H’WOOD: “I think so! I think LEIGON wants his say in this Grand Prix Qualifier match-up!”

O’CONNOR: “I think so, LAMONT. Legion’s scheduled to do battle later in the show! LEGION and LUCI4 are slowly creeping down the ramp way as VARGA and RED battle in the ring for position. VARGA’s desperately trying to fight his way out of the corner and does so nicely with a nice heel stomp to RED’s foot before kicking him in the mid-section and using the Implant DDT to perfection! VARGA checks for a second before noticing that LUCI4 and LEGION are each surrounding the ring… VARGA’s livid but looks to remain with the task-on-hand in delivering punishment any way how to FELIX RED!”

H’WOOD: “He’s going to have to find some type of pain FELIX RED DOESN’T enjoy. Good luck, with that…’cause I think it involves Mormon rehab.”

O’CONNOR: “VARGA shoots a dazed RED into the corner before following and being sidetracked as RED nails a perfectly timed mule kick. LEGION wastes no time getting onto the canvas staring daggers through VARGA before he finally notices and attempts a clothesline that sends both men over the ropes and leaves FELIX RED in the centre of the ring!”

H’WOOD: “As if THE VIOLATOR had enough problems, he now has to deal with LUCI4 stomping mudholes in ‘em! HAH!”

O’CONNOR: “Well VARGA went from a kamikaze mission in facing FELIX RED to now being mugged by the Devil’s Rejects. Legion’s stumbling up and joining the party! The official passes the 5 count as FELIX RED is sitting pretty letting the two outside do his job for him and let the count run down. VARGA finally fights off LEGION before getting onto the canvas and…”

CLOSEUP – SHINING THUNDER… FROM HELL.

O’CONNOR: “OH SWEET MOTHER MARY! SHINING WIZAHHHHHHHHHHHHD! FELIX RED timed it perfectly and just as VARGA avoided the count-out! RED WITH THE COVER! ONNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

(FLASH CUTTO: Back LIVE! O’CONNOR and H’WOOD at ringside…)

O’CONNOR: “FELIX RED with a big win and automatic berth into the Grand Prix with the victory. The Devil’s Rejects hightailed it out of there afterwards, but they were the next match up…and we’re going to join that one in progress. LEGIONS picking VARGA up to throw him back inside the ring and FELIX RED places a foot over his chest as the official finishes the three-count.”

H’WOOD: “Y’know, I’m not going to come out and shortchange Varga completely here. If we put him on some Ritalin, so he could focus on one thing at a time…not anger a whole federation…these things wouldn’t happen!”

O’CONNOR: “Well, I don’t know if he helped his cause with Legion or Lord Coyner Pollard or the actual regime in service as you’ll see with the conclusion of this next match.”

(FLASH CUTTO: ’JOINED IN PROGRESS’ LEGION vs. LORD COYNER POLLARD – 8:15. POLLARD is looking wild-eyed in shock as LEGION is almost falling out of the ring in the turnbuckles.)

O’CONNOR: “The man known as Legion almost turned this match around literally, reversing the English Whip into the corners by Pollard, but he misses with the leaping avalanche!”

H’WOOD: “Legion needs to settle down in the ring, he’s wrestling like gangbusters and looks like he’s having way too much fun in there…”

O’CONNOR: “Pollard slipping behind Legion and hooks him! (BOOS!) Back to Belly Suplex, Pollard holds on with a bridge! ONNNNNNNE! TWO! NO! Legion rolls out of it to break up the pinfall attempt!”

(CUTTO: LUCI4 slapping her hand on the mat, trying to pump up her tag partner!)

O’CONNOR: “Luci’s made her presence felt throughout the whole evening, helping Legion gain advantages in this match…but it may be all for naught. Pollard working over Legion with a reverse chinlock, placing his knee in the small of Legion’s back and the Hershey Arena…surprisingly has gotten behind Legion in this match.”

H’WOOD: “Are you joking Beanfry? I mean what were the odds out here? Cheering for the meth-head or the distinguished gentleman?”

O’CONNOR: “Legion fighting up to his feet and OOF! Elbow to the gut! Another! Legion breaks free and runs off the ropes – OOF! Pollard counters with a kitchen sink knee to the gut! Pollard with a cover! ONE! TWO! THRNO! Legion kicks out and Pollard’s on him like a fly on paper…the Lord of Wessex slips behind Legion and hooks a waistlock – POPS THE HIPS INTO AN ENGLISH SUPLEX WITH A BRIDGE! ONNNNNNNE! TWO! LEGION KICKS OUT AGAIN!”

(CLOSEUP: POLLARD rushing to his feet and arguing with the referee about a slow count, when all of a sudden LEGION rolls him up!)

O’CONNOR: “Legion with a roll-up out of nowhere! (LOUD CHEERS!) HE’S GOT THE TIGHTS! ONNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEENO! POLLARD ROLLS OUT! BOTH MEN UP! And Legion hooks a small package! ONE! TW—Pollard grabs the tights to REVERSE it! ONE! TW—LUCI4 just leaned through the ropes and pushed them over again! ONNNNNNE! TWO! POLLARD KICKS OUT! Both men scrambling up and Legion goes for a Hurrican—NO! (groans!) Legion hits the mat as Pollard backed out of there, he’s got the Devil’s Reject by the legs and flips over into a Jackknife Pin! ONE! TWO! (loud cheers!) LEGION BRIDGES OUT! TURNS IT OVER AND LIFTS POLLARD UHHHHHHHHHHHHP! (LOUD EXPLOSION!) PIIIIIIIIIIILEDRIVAHHHHHHHHHHH! POLLARD’S TWITCHING! LEGION’S GASSED!”

H’WOOD: “And we’re not talking about the fact that he huffs glue, gas and nitrous at the same time!”

O’CONNOR: “Referee Scott Speranza starting the standing ten count! If neither man answers, this match is over!”

H’WOOD: (over crowd stomps!) “This is just the classic case of the meek trying to inherit the earth. Well, I don’t think it matters how many Legion has…he’s still an unwashed vagrant that has no chance against the crux of higher society!”

O’CONNOR: “Pollard on his knees…but Legion’s pulling himself up by the ropes, this could be a major upset if Legion is able to pull this out. Pollard stumbling up to his feet as Legion leans on the ropes and he’s charging – LOOK OUT! (crash! Cheers!) Pollard up and over, lands on his feet…but the momentum sends him crashing into the barricade! Speranza starting the countout, but now Legion’s pulling him aside…and here comes Luci! (LOUD CRASH! CHEERS!) SPINNING LEG LARIAT SENDING POLLARD INTO THE CROWD!”

H’WOOD: “I don’t understand how this crowd can boo Legion and then all of a sudden decide to cheer him right now!”

O’CONNOR: “I’m not sure he’s the lesser of two evils, but when Lord Coyner Pollard is deriding our country in his pre-match speech…I don’t think he’s going to enthuse anyone.”

H’WOOD: “He was making political commentary!”

O’CONNOR: “He said the fact we voted Bush for our President proves that we’re a country of kissing cousins!”

H’WOOD: “Have you BEEN to the Midwest lately? Whatever started in West Virginia after the colonists kicked them OFF the coast has gotten WAY worse up until…just about Vegas.”

O’CONNOR: “Oh yeah, that place is normal. Luci’s added in a few stomps and kicks to Pollard as he tumbles over the barricade, meanwhile, Legion’s let go of Speranza…he’s outside the ring and propping up a table against the apron. Legion picking up Pollard with help from Luci4…LOOK OUT! (CRACK! GROANS!) A modified Double Urange through the table against the apron! Pollard is screaming in pain, Speranza’s out there and trying to get Luci4 away from the scene – warning her one more interference and she’s banned from ringside…”

H’WOOD: “NFW rules are murky folks, unless you get signed to the ‘PRO-WRES’ stipulation, the discretion of referees is about as wide as Beanfry’s choice of overweight hookers on Wednesday Nights. He likes BBW, Big South-Asian egg rolls, German Krauts…its quite avante-garde in some respects.”

O’CONNOR: “Legion rolling back Pollard into the ring…he’s got a piece of that table and I don’t think Legion knows it! (CROWD SCREAMS!) Pollard with a bumrush and he cracks Legion in the head with it! The Devil’s Reject is staggering around the ring, Pollard lining him up! (SCREAMS!) NOOOOO! LEGION DUCKS! SIDE-RUSSIAN FACEBUSTER! Legion spins around, he’s going for the Curbst—“

(QUICK CUTTO: JAMES VARGA sliding into the ring with a chair! He pops to his feet and THHHHHHWACK! LEGION gets DESTROYED with a chairshot to the back of his skull! LOUD BOOS erupt around the arena!)

O’CONNOR: “VARRRRRRRGA! THE VIOLATOR IS BACK OUT HERE! Luci4’s on the top rope – (THWACK!) OHHHHHH MERCY! VARGA SIDESTEPS THE MISSILE DROPKICK!”

H’WOOD: “Well, I don’t think her face is going to get any prettier with that chairshot to it…dare I say, Legion’s really going to need Felix’s drugs to bang her tonight?”

O’CONNOR: “Speranza’s calling for the bell! (SFX: BELL RINGING! LOUD BOOS!) This is completely insane! Varga’s stomping a mudhole into Legion’s skull! OH NO! Arm! Shoulder! Chest! Stomach! Rib! Left Leg! Right Leg! GROIN! (groans!) FACESTOMP! THE VARGA STOMP! LEGION’S OUT! And lookit this – VARGA’S POINTING TO THE TURNBUCKLES! (LOUD CHEERS!) WAIT! WAIT! HERE COMES SECURITY! They’ve tackled Varga down!”

Back to the TOC

Diplomatic Immunity

(CUTTO: EDDIE MAYFIELD and CRAIG MILES walking down the ramp slowly in their respective ‘officer’ uniforms. MAYFIELD’s accentuated by his Presidential Cigar, Sash, Che Guevara hat and Home Fireball Kit Bat-Belt. MILES has his silver sunglasses and is holstered with a mini-acetyline torch on his left and skull/crossbones labeled aerosol can on his right. Both men have little pockets filled with matches, Zippos and god-knows-what.)

O’CONNOR: “Speranza is raising Legion’s hand in victory, I think he’s awarding this via disqualification!”

H’WOOD: “That’s completely unfair! UNDIGNIFIED!”

(CUTTO: COJONES MERCADO, NFW Chief of Security…steps into the ring first, surveying the scene as he holds up his trademark weapon – a steel chair with a spraypainted Devil’s Horn hand symbol crossed out in a No-Smoking fashion.)

O’CONNOR: “This can’t be good for ANY parties involved.”

H’WOOD: “What about the Lord?!? Why are you no-selling the fact that he’s been FU(BLEEP!)KED!?”

O’CONNOR: “Mercado motioning for Craig Miles and Eddie Mayfield to stand inside the squared circle. The self-professed Six-Star General and El Presidente look disgusted at the current scene. (boos!) Oh dear Lamont, you may like this…Mayfield is CHECKING on Lord Coynard Pollard to make sure that he is ok.”

H’WOOD: “FINALLY! Idiots like you and the fans in this arena don’t see the future of this sport as how it SHOULD be versus what it is becoming! These men will take a stand where they can, when they can…that is the only reason the Wrestling Revolution is bigger than every single drug addict we’ve gotten in the upper tier of this insanity.”

O’CONNOR: “Alright, calm down Woodman….we’ve got Craig Miles grabbing the microphone as Mayfield and Pollard converse, the Lord seeming to get the rundown of something…and by the looks that he’s nodding approvingly, I can only imagine what’s going on here.”

(CLOSEUP: MILES looking out to the Hershey Arena crowd, which buzzes loudly. His trademark smirk widens on his face as the crowd starts chanting “THEY F*CKED UP! THEY F*CKED UP!” MILES looks down at LEGION still shaking out cobwebs as VARGA’s currently on his knees, in the firing squad position for COJONES MERCADO who’s grinning like a shark.)

MILES: “I suppose now is the best time to explain some more of the NFW GRAND PRIX as well as the OFFICIAL results of this match. (LOUD CHEERS!) See gentlemen, there is a certain discipline that will be required from each wrestler. I appreciate your spontaneity, weaponry and the sheer lack of morality required for bountiful bloodshed…(MILES wipes a tear from his eye) However, the continuing INTERFERENCE just cannot be apart of the Grand Prix. Legion and Luci4 had provoked Varga earlier, Varga responded in just retaliation. Both of your next CRASH matches will involve each other to end this SH(BLEEP!)T. Believe me on that. In the meantime you both are DISQUALIFIED and Lord Coyner Pollard will ADVANCE to the 2008 Grand Prix tournament.”

(LOUD BOOS! MILES pulls out his cigarette case and slowly lights up, then exhales a smoke ring.)

MILES: “He will join Felix Red as the first two competitors officially in a month long tournament that will be holding its second round of qualifiers at a SPECIAL UNDERGROUND show at FREEDOM HALL for our early Independence Day Party. To qualify for the Grand Prix, NINE MEN will wrestle in a GAUNTLET match that will have three wrestlers in the ring at the SAME time.”

H’WOOD: (V/O) “Was that English at the end?”

O’CONNOR: (V/O) “Shh! Its hard enough understanding with you talking over him!”

MILES: (over crowd buzz!) “To QUALIFY, each wrestler will need to get a PINFALL as we go through each nine men ELIMINATION style rules until we’re all finished. The nine men competing are some of the world’s best cruiserweights from around the world. Some have competed in our federation in the past such as SHAWN HART or ‘SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL’. (LOUD BOOS!) Others such as HIGH FLYER (LOUD POP!) DOCTOR CURIOSITY…”

(MILES exhales a smoke ring as the crowd is LOUD!)

O’CONNOR: (V/O) “Those are some names that are known around the world, Lamont.”

H’WOOD: (V/O) “People are still playing City of Heroes aren’t they?”

MILES: “…will meet their NFW counterparts in SARS and PROFESSOR TREMENDOUS. (crowd cheers!) …BUT…I’m thinking with our three latest worldwide finds in ‘The ILLUSTRIOUS’ (coughs”Manpie”coughs) FACEEATER, JAY (coughs”Tonto”coughs) PHOENIX and DIGITAL (coughs”he’scool”coughs) MORTALITY will prove that the WRESTLING REVOLUTION is about to hit MACH FOUR-BLINITY beyond ANYONE’S freaking mind.”

(CUTTO: The crowd applauding the names in shock, some high-fiving in the rafters! “HOLY SH*T! HOLY SH*T!” chants start repeating as MILES lowers the mic with a smirk, passing off to EDDIE MAYFIELD who does NOT look happy even still.)

MAYFIELD: “Hold on, hold on. (MAYFIELD starts waving the crowd off) Before any of you start shotgunning Yuengling Light all over your brand new Utz Factory shirts, there is another announcement concerning a man you’ve ALL DISRESPECTED tonight.”

(The crowd boos LOUDLY as MAYFIELD stares back in annoyance.)

H’WOOD: (V/O) “You don’t have to take it, Eddie! Ban them all!”

MAYFIELD: “This started back in the Madison Square Garden when Nova decided to ILLEGALLY use the World Championship to bludgeon this man’s face during a WRESTLING contest. (“NOH-VUH! NOH-VUH!” chants repeat. MAYFIELD pinches his nose in frustration.) It is OBVIOUS that the this city’s ethics have been ROTTED by sugar, almost as much as the rampant offenders of my WELLNESS policy. This has left a man like LORD COYNER POLLARD, a GENTLEMEN and SCHOLAR of HONEST, CLEAN WRESTLING.”

(POLLARD nods in thanks, but the crowd starts booing LOUDLY! MAYFIELD and POLLARD look back in shock.)

O’CONNOR: (V/O) “For anyone not at Madison Square Garden. Eddie Mayfield CONVENINETLY forgot to mention the fact that Pollard brought the belt into the ring in the first place to try and STEAL the victory from Nova.”

MAYFIELD: (holding his hand up) “Regardless of what you Sugar-Bear addicted FREAKS envision for this Revolution, it is my job to do what’s BEST for this promotion. Ask NOT, what NFW can do for you! ASK WHAT YOU CAN DO FOR NFW! Lord Coyner Pollard step forward please.”

(The crowd boos LOUDLY as POLLARD walks to the center of the ring in shock, VARGA and LEGION surrounded six or seven deep, now handcuffed by security and being forced to watch. They’re both talking smack at each other.)

MAYFIELD: “On your knee…”

(POLLARD looks around nervously as the crowd starts buzzing…)

O’CONNOR: (V/O) “This could really go either way.”

H’WOOD: (V/O) “Have FAITH in your country, Beanfry!”

(POLLARD kneels as MAYFIELD is handed MERCADO’s chair.)

MAYFIELD: “In the face of madness, you have proven yourself once again. For this…”

(MAYFIELD taps each of POLLARD’s shoulders as the Lord wells up some crocodile tears.)

MAYFIELD: “You are granted DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY.”

(LOUD BOOS! POLLARD stands on his feet and bows each way towards the crowd as MAYFIELD hands back the chair to COJONES and joins MILES in a standing ovation. CUTTO: O’CONNOR sitting down and watching in shock as H’WOOD stands up to clap feverishly.)

H’WOOD: (over boos!) “This is a BEAUTIFUL moment, Beanfry! Don’t let your Irish bias ruin it for all of us, stand up!”

O’CONNOR: (deadpanned towards the camera) “We’ll...(H’WOOD wolf whistles!) …we’ll be right back.”

(FADEOUT as the camera shows an overhead shot of LEGION and VARGA being dragged away, while POLLARD keeps bowing in the face of trash and debris flying into the ring.)

Back to the TOC

Hostile Negotiations

(CUTTO: Backstage, locker room area. LEGION and LUCI4 are wandering over to their locker-room as LEGION holds his wrists…his face twitching slightly. Legion swings the door open, and although the room is pitch black, we hear some muffled whispering and giggling…)

LEGION: Varga…

(He clicks the lights on)

A SHITLOAD OF PEOPLE: SURPRISE!!!!

(Legion and Luci are shocked and horrified to discover their locker room is full of people, and there are balloons, streamers, and other such things all over, with a banner that reads "WELCOME TO BITCHDOM, LEGION!!!" hanging from the ceiling. Strippers dance around on hastily set up poles, people are downing shots, somebody throws on the new Girl Talk album, and suddenly, seemingly appearing out of nowhere in the middle of this bangin', yet unwelcome party, there's FELIX RED, who shakes Legion's hand and pats him on the back before Legion has time to react…)

FELIX: Hey, spunky. We're all proud of you for making the right decision, to start carrying my bags and finding me drugs and such, soooooo we thought we'd throw a little surprise shindig to mark the occasion.

LEGION: You have crossed a line, one that no regime will stop me from retaliating upon. These people…

FELIX: Oh, they were out in the parking lot huffing wet tar fumes and hitting each other with stuff they found. Aaaaand we got in here, 'cause, y'know. I'm good like that. I'm, like, King Shit on this show.

(Legion is still too baffled to know what to do, as Felix shoves a Sparks into his hand and cracks open one for himself)

FELIX: And now a toast, to the many opponents you'll help me defeat, the many errands I'll send you on, and the many times I'll passive aggressively slap you until you cry whenever I'm frustrated or bored.

(Felix clinks Legion's can, and takes a swig of his own)

LEGION:….(chug his WHOLE Sparks on the spot, everyone cheering when all of a sudden he spits the remaining backwash back in Felix's face. The entire party stares in horror as Legion lets out an ECHOING belch, and Felix is completely aghast…LUCI4 grabs LEGION by the hair and they stare into each other’s eyes for a moment. LEGION growls…)

FELIX: ...You ungrateful little fuck!

(Suddenly FELIX jumps LEGION! They start rolling around and tossing haymakers at each other’s skulls as the crowd starts to panic! LUCI4 grabs LEGION by the arm before FELIX’s followers can completely converge on the scene. As she pulls him out of the locker room screaming, FELIX is held back by someone with a full nitrous balloon.)

FELIX: You'll pay for this you pompous douchebag!!!

(Felix takes a heave off the balloon and a slow, relaxing breath, wipes the booze off his face and smiles widely and starts speaking in nitrous tongue.)

FELIX: My friend, my friend…he’s got a knife.

(FADEOUT)

Back to the TOC

Grand Prix Qualifier: Impulse vs. Almasy

(FADEIN: Back LIVE! Hershey Arena! An overhead shot of the crowd panning back towards the ringside…)

The boy looked at Johnny, Johnny wanted t’run, but the movie kept moving as planned, the boy took Johnny, he pushed him against the locker…

O’CONNOR: These two men first met at Wrestlestock 2 in the TV Title Plumber Invitational, though at the time Impulse had been wrestling for forty five minutes at that point.

H’WOOD: Who cares?

He drove it in he drove it home he drove it deep in Johnny, the boy disappeared Johnny fell on’is knees, started crashing his head against the locker…

O’CONNOR: What do you mean, who cares? Tonight we get to see these two great wrestlers on an even keel!

H’WOOD: I mean it doesn’t matter. Almasy is better than Impulse, and now he doesn’t have a bunch of other opponents to hide behind.

When Suddenly… Johnny… Gets the feeling… he’s being surrounded by… Horses… Horses… Horses… Horses…Coming in in all directions, white… shining… stilver… studs with their nose… in… flames… he saw… Horses… Horses… Horses… Horses…

O’CONNOR: Say what you will, Lamont, but I believe this kid took a turn at the last Brawl, and as Impulse enters the arena to a warm ovation, I think we’re going to see a great matchup!

H’WOOD: Really? I think a great matchup will be SARS’ boot to this kid’s face.

O’CONNOR: He’s learning something new every night, Lamont, and I think that will continue – LOOK OUT!

H’WOOD: That’s great!

O’CONNOR: The fans are on their feet all over the arena to try to get a better look, but Almasy has just attacked Impulse from behind! He’s got a chair in hand, and he’s pummeling the rookie in the back and the head!

H’WOOD: I love it, Beanfry! Let the kid add this to the precious little lessons he’s learned: Come to the ring and you’re gonna get hurt.

O’CONNOR: Almasy with another shot with the chair, and he’s got Impulse by the mask, he’s dragging the groggy rookie to the ring! He doesn’t want to be in the Grand Prix, he doesn’t want to win this match, he just wants to hurt people!

H’WOOD: And?

O’CONNOR: Why do I even bother?

H’WOOD: I don’t know.

O’CONNOR: Almasy just sent Impulse into the ring, and he’s following! Are we going to get a bell?

H’WOOD: Ding, ding. Pin him and let’s go home.

O’CONNOR: The referee is telling Almasy just that, Lamont – you’ve pounded him, you’d better just finish it quickly or you’re in for it.

H’WOOD: Do your worst, referee man!

O’CONNOR: Almasy rolls Impulse over, and a foot on his chest – this is disrespectful! ONE… TWO… He took his foot off, and kicked him in the ribs! Impulse rolls to the center of the ring, holding onto his side!

H’WOOD: If he was serious about having a career, he should just tap out. Then, the referee can give the match to Almasy and the kid can have security save his ass.

O’CONNOR: And if the referee was serious about enforcing the rules, he’d make Almasy drop that chair!

H’WOOD: Leave him be, Bean dip, he’s not using it.

O’CONNOR: ALMASY WITH THE EDGE OF THE CHAIR AGAINST THE BACK OF IMPULSE’S NECK!

H’WOOD: Ooops.

O’CONNOR: He’s not hitting him, but he’s pressing the edge down, forcing Impulse back to the mat! C’mon, ref!

H’WOOD: He’s telling him to stop, what else can he do?

O’CONNOR: Maybe take the chair away?

H’WOOD: You’re welcome to try.

O’CONNOR: Finally, Almasy drops the chair to the mat, but the damage may be done! He scoops the kid, and a hard slam on the steel! Impulse rolls off in pain! Almasy just kicked the chair into the corner, but the referee needs to remove it!

H’WOOD: It’s out of the way, what more do you want?

O’CONNOR: Almasy to outside of the ropes, he’s going up top! Impulse is on his hands and knees… LEGDROP FROM THE TOP! He just drove Impulse straight back down to the mat! Roll over and a cover, ONE… TWO… TH—KICKOUT!

H’WOOD: What a stupid kid.

O’CONNOR: Almasy looks stunned that he was able to kick out of that legdrop, but the kid has more resilience than that!

H’WOOD: He’s wearing a mask. They both are. How can you tell that Almasy looks stunned, or that Impulse didn’t just have a pre – death spasm?

O’CONNOR: … Quiet.

H’WOOD: Just sayin’ is all.

O’CONNOR: Almasy with a scoop, and a whip into the corner! Cross body in the corner! He’s sandwiched Impulse between himself and the corner, and he’s got the kid’s head hooked! DDT! Another cover, ONE… TWO… TH—KICKOUT!

H’WOOD: Guts, no brains. Also, no guts.

O’CONNOR: Almasy with a scoop, and he just sent Impulse between the ropes to the floor! He’s measured the kid, and a slingshot over the top! He just caught Impulse on the top of the head with both his heels! Impulse is down, and he’s not moving!

H’WOOD: This may be the greatest match I’ve seen this year.

O’CONNOR: Almasy with a pair of forearms between the shoulder blades, and he just sent Impulse headfirst into the timekeeper’s table! Now he’s back in the ring? What’s this nutcase doing?

H’WOOD: Keep calling him that, he might come over and say hello.

O’CONNOR: Good point. Almasy is back in the ring, and the referee’s count is at three. He could certainly win this via countout, but I don’t think that’s his plan. Impulse is on one knee with one foot underneath him, this young kid has taken a lot of punishment tonight and he’s still in this thing!

H’WOOD: Give Alamasy four minutes.

O’CONNOR: Count is at five, and Almasy climbs to the top turnbuckle! Six! Impulse is back to his feet! Almasy launches himself off the top! Double axe handle to the back of the neck, and Impulse’s head just snapped down to the table! Did the wood just crack?

H’WOOD: That would imply Impulse doesn’t have a soft spot up front, so no.

O’CONNOR: The referee is calling for Almasy to return to the ring, with or without Impulse, and at this point it might be wise for Impulse to surrender, or for the referee to just disqualify Almasy.

H’WOOD: That’s not fair, why can’t he stop the match and give it to Almasy?

O’CONNOR: I suppose blindsiding him with a chair was fair?

H’WOOD: Of course it was fair, he did it with flair!

O’CONNOR: I’m not talking to you anymore.

H’WOOD: What fun is that?

O’CONNOR: Almasy with a hand on the back of Impulse’s neck, and a whip to the guardrail! Running start, he just leaped to the second ring step and launched himself at his opponent! Impulse just got sandwiched against the railing! Finally, Almasy heads back to the ring, and the count has started again.

H’WOOD: You see? You need to let the man work. Impulse had a good run, but he was due for a terrible ass – kicking.

O’CONNOR: Lamont? He just won his first match!

H’WOOD: I stand by my statement.

O’CONNOR: Incredibly, Impulse is actually getting up! He’s got both hands on the guardrail, and he’s taking his time pulling himself to his feet, but he most assuredly is getting back to his feet!

H’WOOD: Good, so Almasy can put him down again. Maybe hit him in the nose with a newspaper or rub his face on his stupid mask and say ‘No!’ for a few.

O’CONNOR: Almasy wears a mask, too.

H’WOOD: His isn’t stupid.

O’CONNOR: Impulse is surely being buoyed by the way the fans are cheering for him, and he’s on his feet! Just a few steps, and he’ll be back in the ring and right back in this thing!

H’WOOD: If you really believe that, Beanfry, maybe you can go pat him on the head and say ‘Chin up, buckaroo, it’s inexplicably worth it.’

O’CONNOR: Seven, eight, nine, and Impulse just slid back under the bottom rope! These fans are certainly appreciative of his efforts to stay in this thing. Almasy has him hooked again, and he just tossed him over the top rope on the other side—NO! Impulse held onto the top rope! Almasy turned around as soon as he flung him!

H’WOOD: Turn around!

O’CONNOR: Impulse leans back, and he just slingshotted himself to the top rope, and launched at Almasy! Bulldog! Impulse just drove Almasy headfirst into the mat!

H’WOOD: Lucky shot.

O’CONNOR: Must’ve been a lot of luck, Almasy is back to his knees, but he looks a bit rattled! Impulse rolled with the impact across the ring, he’s sitting down, holding onto his own head! There’s the count, but I think both men are still in this thing!

H’WOOD: Some more than others, Beanfry – Almasy is up and he’s mad!

O’CONNOR: He’s stalking towards Impulse with dangerous intent surely on his mind—now, this is bad.

H’WOOD: This is SMART!

O’CONNOR: C’mon, ref! You should’ve gotten rid of the chair by now!

H’WOOD: But he didn’t, so Almasy’s allowed to beat Impulse to oblivion with it. It’s simple economics.

O’CONNOR: How is that economics?

H’WOOD: It just is.

O’CONNOR: Almasy just shoved the referee away from him, but there’s no disqualification? I don’t understand that call, but Impulse is still on the mat, trying to catch his breath! I don’t know if he’s seen Almasy approaching with the steel chair in hand, but he’d better watch out for it!

H’WOOD: Bring ‘er up, and bring ‘er down!

O’CONNOR: He’s got the chair high above his head, this could be it—IMPULSE WITH A ROLL AND A DROP TOE HOLD! He just spun ninety degrees out of the chair’s path and took Almasy down with one leg on the back of his knee and the other on the front of his ankle—HOLY SHI—

H’WOOD: Not very professional, are you?

O’CONNOR: Let’s take a look at that on the replay!

H’WOOD: Holy shi—

O’CONNOR: Almasy is down, and he’s holding onto his leg in pain!

H’WOOD: Did he just do that?

O’CONNOR: Fans, as you can see on the replay on the right side of your screen, Impulse took Almasy off his feet with that modified drop toe hold, and as soon as he landed on the mat, he grabbed Almasy’s ankle with both hands and… I really don’t know how to describe this.

H’WOOD: He just popped his knee, didn’t he?

O’CONNOR: That’s the best way I can describe it. Almasy is in a lot of pain, and now Impulse has that chair in his own hands after using it to help himself to his feet. This is a judgement call by the referee on what to do here.

H’WOOD: Disqualify Impulse, of course. That’s pretty unsportsmanlike.

O’CONNOR: Says the man who was defending Almasy’s use of a chair?

H’WOOD: Well what’s the kid gonna do with it?

O’CONNOR: Impulse just dropped the chair to the floor, and he looks like he’s still trying to catch his breath. Almasy has pulled himself to his feet with the ring ropes, but you can tell he’s in a lot of pain out there. He’s trying to take a few steps, but he doesn’t look like he can put any weight on it. SCOOP AND A BODYSLAM BY IMPULSE! The kid is on his way to the top turnbuckle…

H’WOOD: Now what?

O’CONNOR: Almasy is down, but he’s holding onto his knee! Impulse perched on the top rope… SHOOTING STAR PRESS! Grapevine cover, ONE… TWO… THREE!

H’WOOD: Cheater!

O’CONNOR: The referee has Impulse’s hand in the air, he’s officially the winner here, but I’m not exactly sure what we just saw. You can see on the replay again, Almasy started the match by blindsiding the kid with that steel chair, and from there he was evidently not interested in winning the match, all he wanted to do was hurt Impulse. There it is, the bulldog from the outside, and the drop toe hold, ankle lock that truly turned the tide. What’s he doing now?

H’WOOD: Crippling the guy isn’t enough?

O’CONNOR: Impulse has Almasy by the ankle again, and another wrench! Did he just pop his knee BACK into place?

H’WOOD: What an idiot. Almasy, please end him before he gets back to the locker room?

O’CONNOR: As the kid leaves the ring to a warm reception, Almasy has gotten back to his feet, and he has a very subtle limp to his step now. I’ve gotta tell you, Lamont… this kid can fly, and he takes a lot of flack from the rest of the wrestlers here in New Frontier Wrestling for being green, but after tonight I think he’s proven something else – Impulse can be very, very dangerous!

H’WOOD: SARS is dangerous. Impulse is not.

O’CONNOR: We’ll be right back.

Back to the TOC

Cleanliness is NOT SARSliness

FADE IN: Sars paces a padded room, painted purple and red.

SARS: "Y-y-you-you p-people make me sick! Every time I think about the Grand Prix and the fact that I've gotta breathe the same air as a bunch of unarresting, barely-talented retards...I just want to shit a basket full of spider eggs! All I want are some personalities of the non-retard variety! Is it too much for a multi-colored comedic jackass to ask?"

THONG! A thrown knife rattles as it's stuck in the padded wall.

SARS: "RE-AL-IT-TEE-CHECK! You're just a bunch of hypocritical, wholly pitiful, essentially miserable, hackney-ass LOSERS and I can't wait until I get to punctuate that fact with a 40 pound box of rape at each and everyone of your doorsteps. :) All the players who claim to "have a parcel of staying power" spend most of their time treating natural-born losers like Varga as "actual competition", meanwhile anyone who actually poses a threat to their dead-in-the-water careers is either befriended in the most gayest of ways or- like this clown- pigeon-holed and marginalized as "glorified mama joke" spewing flash-in-the-pan.

Ha ha ha...that's fine. I relate to your self-serving need to simplify and retreat from what you can't understand. But inching away from the blood at your feet isn't going to be an option when it pools ankle-deep. The notion that all that lies between me the random sociopathic ecstasy of making everyone a victim of chance--- is an ocean of crimson unleashed by these same hands--- will never be lost on a mind as mad and strange as mine!

In other words: You ladies just don't have the BAWLS to put down this rabid-beast. I could soak up the National Champion with a Maxi-Pad and only thing separating Nova from every "wrassler" in existence is a drug addiction. Oh wait...that's been done. Truly, it's a bitch. All that's left for Nova is a bottle of whiskey and a bizzare case of double-homocide, slash, suicide - so bone up on your crippler crossface, ya stoner piece of shit. And if you don't do it, guess what, one day I'm gonna drive ya to it in the same ambalence they're gonna stuff Facey in when I'm done playin' with his innards.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

Deadpan. (-.-)

Deep in thought, chin on his hand, the clown- now seeming uncharacteristically and particularly vicious paced the camera.

SARS: "Speaking of...

I don't see how Facey is gonna drop the weight in time for the Prix. 67% percent of his body weight is protiens that he's syphoned from a wide assortment of foreign dicks. How's he gonna be able to focus in the wrestling ring when he's focused leaving an engagement ring of spit around the base of Nova's junk? Listen, Facey: Forget the Grand Prix. Hang a hard left at Louisville, Kentucky and gun it to Faggotville, California. Your lifestyle is like your promo-style: Sissified and Limp-wristed. You and Nova are better off sampling the tang of your assholes together.

Don't play coy, my skinny little witless dipshit. You already said that you'll eat shitty-shit and like it, so you'll have no problem gobblin' up what I leave on your chances of winning any title shots. Literally and Figuratively...(CLAP)...it's a wrap! HA HA HA! OOOOooOOOOHHHH, I'm soooo funny! And sooooooooo GOOD!

So good, that I can totally burn myself at the end of my promos and still come out smelling like an arrangement of lilac and baby's breath. And what do you smell like? The rotted-crotch of Teresa Quaranta's panties: a combination of Summer's Eve, a sardine's asshole and the Sewage line in an old pork rendering plant."

Sars ceased his pacing and walked in one direction, towards the wall...and then up the wall. (???) The camera followed.

SARS: "This last one goes out to the No-SHOWS! While I'd love to stand here dissecting all the reasons why it was probably best you didn't bother making your case. I'm going to let the sound of you gasping for air as Varga lowers his crotch-lint covered balls into your waiting mouths serve as a taste of not only a sad virgin's shriveled nutsack- but of what ya had to look forward to in actual competition.

Kinda sucks too...I've actually been workin' on a move that best utilizes the fact that I shave my coin purse and my knack for sitting on people's faces.

Ah well.

In the next life, right guys? :)"

FADE OUT.

Back to the TOC

3 O’CLOCK AFTERNOON SPECIAL MATCH

(SLO-FADEIN: Camera flashes flickering, the crowd cheering as the house lights level down in anticipation of the next matchup…QUICK CUTTO: Ringside with O’CONNOR and H’WOOD, fans clamoring to either get on camera or drink more beer behind them.)

O’CONNOR: “Ahhh. Fans, it feels great to be back with you tonight on ESEN Television after a two-month untelevised stretch…but unlike past lapses in Frontier programming, this break from the airwaves was not due to inactivity! Rather, NFW left its more comfortable stomping grounds of Western and Middle America to spend a little time in the Big Apple, which played host to not one – not two – but THREE dynamite house shows showcasing everything from Frontier veteran players to hot newcomers!”

H’WOOD: “Alright, Beaner, alright, try not to pass out on us…”

O’CONNOR: “You’re right to color me excited, Woodman! The card we have tonight for the ‘COLT’ .45th episode of CRASH TEE-VEE is arguably on-par with the one we assembled for WRESTLESTOCK…and we all know how that went down! It’s already being hailed as a modern Frontier masterpiece, a Milesian & Mayfieldonic Manifesto for the coming year!”

H’WOOD: “That’s it, I’m telling the interns, no more coffee for you! Hear me, Consuela? THIS MAN IS CUT OFF!”

O’CONNOR: (Laughing) “Well there’s a LOT to be excited about in the New Frontier right now, Lamont, and I’m pretty sure we’d all see your ascot vibrating in place if I were to mention a certain OXONIAN (CUTTO: H’WOOD’s hat bouncing up off his head and landing back in place!) but the question of the Everette Memorial Tag Title Match will be answered later tonight! RIGHT NOW a much-hyped brawl is upon us, dubbed the ‘Three O’Clock Afternoon Special,’ between what mgmt. has described as ‘The Old School’ – consisting of the ‘Dog of War’ Jason Payne, ‘XXX’ Sean Stevens, and Cameron Cruise – against…well, that’s the real question, isn’t it, Lamont?”

H’WOOD: “One we’re about to find out an answer for, Beanfry! We all saw Alyas get arrested earlier in the program, and if you’re like me, you immediately begin giggling and dry-washing your hands over the prospect of the Dream Team marching out to a three-on-two situation against three of the ‘Dub’s most seasoned veterans! Gordey and Duncan flapped their gums a little too hard about the GHEE-REATEST tag team in the history of the sport, and well…KARMAIC RETRIBUTION IS A B(BLEEP!)H!!!

O’CONNOR: “The day ‘Karmaic Retribution’ works in favor of the Hollywood Wrecking Crew is the day we’re ALL in trouble…but here come the anointed ‘Old School’ now!”

(MUSICUP – “Dogs of War” by Pink Floyd)

O’CONNOR: “All three men emerging from the back now to Payne’s theme music…and what an important match for each of them, Woodman! NFW’s first televised show since WRESTLESTOCK…the beginning of another surely-groundbreaking arc for the company…you’ve got Cameron Cruise especially vocal in these last weeks trying to resurrect himself as a main player! You’ve got Payne re-emerging on the scene after a long absence, a former NFW World Heavyweight Championship contender in his own right! And then you have Sean Stevens coming off a PHENOMENAL 2007 all around, but not really finding his way in the New Frontier! These men need a WIN!”

H’WOOD: “Depending on who walks through that curtain next, their chances of getting it will either skyrocket…or simply hover around ‘very likely!’”

O’CONNOR: “All three men approaching the ring now, Cruise opting for the ring steps as Payne rolls under the rope and Stevens climbs up onto the apron…”

(MUSICUP: “Princes of the Universe” by Queen)

O’CONNOR: “Aaaand…that…about…”

H’WOOD: “BWAAAAAAAA-HA-HA-HA~!!!”

O’CONNOR: “…answers our question, fans, because it appears the Dream Team of Mike Gordey and Brian Duncan are gonna go it alone, making their way with an air of defiance out onto the entrance ramp! What a test for this young team against a collection of individuals in that ring more seasoned than Mama Carlton’s famous ribeye!”

H’WOOD: “EWWW! BEANFRY!”

O’CONNOR: “I said RIB-eye, Woodman.”

H’WOOD: “Oh. I wasn’t paying attention very much, and got one hell of a mental image for a second. At any rate, defiance or no defiance these chub-rubs are gonna take their licks here in the Hershey Arena and then hopefully move on to greener pastures…literally, somewhere else!”

O’CONNOR: “Why are you so eager to see an adverse fate befall these young men? Don’t you want your son’s division to thrive?”

H’WOOD: “Lemme put it to you this way, Sprout. Say you go to the store and you find the BEST ice cream there is in the world…are you gonna pass it up for something you KNOW isn’t as good? Me, I’ll just load up on the best brand and terminate the contracts of the others.”

O’CONNOR: “I like ALL KINDS of ice cream.”

H’WOOD: “From the looks of your gut, I can see that.”

O’CONNOR: “HEY! I’ve been hitting the...DREAM TEAM DOWN THE RAMP IN A CHARGE! Duncan and Gordey sliding under the bottom! Gordey rocking Sean Stevens with right hands! The big man Brian Duncan with a double clothesline on Payne and Cruise! Gordey drops an elbow over Payne! Duncan with some classic Ground ‘N Pounding on Cruise! And the ref is telling one of the Dream Teamers they have to leave the ring right now! I don’t believe it, Woodman, but the ref is having to PRY the Dream Team off these THREE men!”

H’WOOD: “Hrmph. Can’t say I’m seeing a lot of ‘Bad-Ass’ or ‘War’ or…um…‘Siegel’ out of the ‘Old School’ right now…”

O’CONNOR: “There’s a LOT to be said for who gets the momentum early on in these kinds of matches, and I have to give the Dream Team absolute credit on looking at this unfortunate situation and deciding on the spot that they have to do the one thing their opponents will NOT expect…charge the ring when they’re a man down! That’s classic PSYCHOLOGY, Woodman!”

H’WOOD: “You want psychology, Bean-O? Check out 1984, WWTWA’s Flag Day Fracas, where the Rock N Roll Gangsters embarrassed the Genovese Gutbusters so bad they swore off fine dining for the rest of their lives…THAT’S psychology! This…this is CHEAP TRICKS! And I spit on it! PA-TOOEY!”

O’CONNOR: “I don’t think your disdain is weighing heavy on their minds at the moment, Woodman! Gordey’s in first for the Dream Team and he’s fired up! Opposite him is a slightly rattled Jason Payne, but if there’s one thing to be said about the Dog of War, it’s that his mental state is RARELY a hindrance to his in-ring abilities! He’s already got that snarl back on his face, ready to tear into the smaller member of the opposing duo! Payne lunging forward! Gordey with a standing side kick that jogs the man dubbed ‘Too Hot for NFW!’ Payne shaking the cobwebs…and Gordey with a back elbow knocking him to the mat! Payne up again! Gordey springing forward…front facebuster and Payne’s face-down on the mat!”

H’WOOD: “BAH~! The Dog of War is being neutered by…by AMA-TOORS!!”

O’CONNOR: “Gordey getting FIRED UP, and listen to this capacity crowd! He’s bringing Payne up…and Payne gets a leg! Payne with a leg takedown on Gordey, and he tags out to Cruise!”

H’WOOD: “Oh, FABULOUS.”

O’CONNOR: “Hang on, Woodman! I think in recent weeks we’ve seen a more engaged, more attentive Cameron Cruise inside the ‘Dub’s ring ropes! And Cam appears to be confirming my suspicions now! Ducking a lariat by Gordey – HOOK for a neckbreaker! Rolling knee across the chest and maybe part of the neck of Gordey, and what a quick-thinking play, no wasted movements by Cameron Cruise! He’s got Gordey up…Irish whip into the ropes…(SFX: THWACK!!!) OHHHHHHH!!! KNIFE-EDGE CHOP sending Gordey down to the mat! One of the most stinging moves in pro-wrestling, and you almost NEVER see someone use it like that, but Cruise just felled Gordey like a rotten oak, and you gotta know the blood vessels in the Dream Teamer’s chest are…yup, the camera’s showing it, he’s got a Wilson-esque red print of the back of Cruise’s hand on his chest!”

H’WOOD: “Knife-edge chops…*shudder*…one thing I do NOT miss about the ring.”

O’CONNOR: “Gordey back up, and Cameron Cruise has successfully taken the wind out of the Dream Team’s sails here!”

H’WOOD: “I always liked him, you know.”

O’CONNOR: “I won’t dignify that with a response, but I WILL say that backbreaker by the Greensboro veteran is gonna have Mike Gordey looking for the softest hotel bed he can find tonight! Cruise holding onto it, almost a submission modification here with his knee driven RIGHT into the small of Gordey’s back…and he relents! Cruise with stomps on the tag competitor! Gordey in a daze on the mat trying to defend! He’s got a leg! Pushing Cruise back! Cameron stumbles, but he’s still on his feet! He’s going…wait…wait, I believe Sean Stevens just blind-tagged himself in!”

H’WOOD: “As long as there are boots stomping the Dream Team, I don’t really care WHO’S wearing them.”

O’CONNOR: “It looks like Cameron Cruise cares! The ref is telling him to leave the ring, and he’s LIVID! He turned the momentum of this match around and was in the process of DISSECTING Mike Gordey before he was unceremoniously changed out by a member of his own team! And I don’t know if that was a good move by Stevens…because Gordey has tagged out! The big man Brian Duncan is in…but size has never mattered to the ‘Blue-Eyed Badass!’”

H’WOOD: *Snicker*

O’CONNOR: “Stevens meeting Duncan in the middle of the ring…they’re trading blows! Stevens with a right! A series of rights! A left! He’s swinging fast because you KNOW that one punch from the mammoth Duncan’s probably work FIVE from the Blue-Eyed Badass! Duncan clubbing the shoulders of XXX! Stevens trying to block…and Duncan has him around the neck! DUNCAN’S LIFTING STEVENS OFF THE GROUND BY THE NECK!!”

H’WOOD: “UP, UP, AND AWAAAAAAAAAY!!!”

O’CONNOR: “He’s gotta be going for the ‘Get Lost’ two-handed choke toss! Listen to these fans, they can’t believe it! Stevens’ legs are dangling off the mat – and he’s throwing knees out of desperation! Landing a crucial kidney shot, and Duncan releases him! Sean Stevens is on the mat, and he’s gasping for air! And Duncan…wait a second…the crowd seems to be directed elsewhere here, someone’s coming down the…yes! YES! BROCK ALYAS IS COMING DOWN THE ENTRANCE RAMP!”

H’WOOD: “And he’s sporting the newest from the American Penal Wares collection, BWAHAHAHA!!”

O’CONNOR: “Brock Alyas is headed down to the ring, and as my esteemed colleague suggests, he’s got his prison oranges on and shackles jingling! I don’t know what effect he hopes to have in this match-up with his arms and legs locked up, but he’s pacing around the Dream Team’s side of the ring!”

H’WOOD: “That’s the ugliest cheerleader THIS color commentator’s ever seen, and I used to autograph signings outside high school football games in ABERDEEN, MISSISSIPPI! Ever been there, Beanfry?”

O’CONNOR: “I don’t think so…”

H’WOOD: “They have this dish…they slaughter a pig, and then whole-roast it over a spit…with a WATERMELON sewn into the belly! And they shove ice-cold Budweisers into the eye-sockets!”

O’CONNOR: “Oh, stop it. Duncan’s got Stevens up…he’s lifting him overhead in a Gorilla Press! Stevens has to be EIGHT FEET off the mat right now! Gordey slapping Duncan’s back for the blind tag…Duncan moving away from the ropes…GORDEY UP ONTO THE THIRD ROPE…SPRINGING OFF…DUNCAN RELEASES…FRONT FACEBREAKER BY GORDEY OFF THE TOP ROPE!!! THE ‘CUTTER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER!!’”

H’WOOD: “Look at Payne! He’s LOSING it! He’s gotta be extended four feet over the ropes!”

O’CONNOR: “Sean Stevens is in serious trouble here, and you’re right, Payne is freaking out, no doubt because he hasn’t had a chance to redeem himself since the opening moments of the contest when the Dream Team took the ‘Old School’ by surprise! Duncan dropping for a pin…ONE! TWO! THRE-NO!! Stevens got a shoulder up, though I don’t for the life of me know how! Gordey slapping the mat in frustration…going to lift Stevens up…aaaand HEADBUTT into Gordey’s midsection! Gordey doubled over! Stevens running back against the rop-OHHHHHH!!”

H’WOOD: “Ouch.”

O’CONNOR: “ALYAS UP ON THE APRON, AND HE CLOBBERED STEVENS IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD WITH THOSE HAND SHACKLES!!”

H’WOOD: “EXCEDRIN HEADACHE NUMBAH NIIIIIIINE! Sorry, couldn’t resist…”

O’CONNOR: “The ref missed it in the commotion of Duncan leaving the ring and checking Gordey to make sure it wasn’t a low blow! Stevens stumbles forward a step or two…into the TIGER DRIVER from Gordey! I don’t think Gordey saw Alyas clock Stevens, but Payne and Cruise sure did! They’re fresh, they’re rarin’ to go, and their partner is OUT! Gordey with the pin! Duncan’s inside, forming a wall of flesh blocking Cruise and Payne as they…ONE!! TWO!! THREE!!! The ‘New School’ wins this one, though it’s CERTAINLY by the ‘Crook’ of Brock Alyas!”

H’WOOD: “They should be ASHAMED.”

O’CONNOR: “I agree with your logic, if not your motives!”

(MUSICUP – “Princes of the Universe” by Queen)

O’CONNOR: “The Dream Team are celebrating, Stevens is OUT in the ring, and it looks like Payne and Cruise are taking the loss and going…WAIT! Payne’s going for a chair! THE DOG OF WAR HITS THE RING WITH A CHAIR, AND HE’S GIVING OUT SHOTS! (SFX: THWAAAACK!) CHAIR TO THE HEAD OF MIKE GORDEY! (SFX: THWAAAACK!) CHAIR TO THE HEAD OF BRIAN DUNCAN! Payne’s out of the ring and he’s chasing Brock Alyas around the side! Cameron Cruise cuts Alyas off and he turns, running the other way back into OHHHH! CHAIRSHOT BY JASON PAYNE ONTO THE FACE OF BROCK ALYAS!”

H’WOOD: “Old Steely the Chair DEALING JUSTICE!”

O’CONNOR: “We have bodies everywhere, Woodman, and Jason Payne gives Cruise a look…and then walks away! Obviously some measure of respect for Cruise’s performance tonight before Stevens tagged himself in! Cruise standing over Alyas now…he’s lifting him up! Cruise rolling Alyas into the ring, what’s he got planned?! He’s scooping Alyas up now…SHIPWRECK!! Cameron Cruise adding to the CARNAGE here with the Shipwreck on a still-shackled Brock Alyas, and now Cruise is leaving the ring as bodies are littered everywhere!”

H’WOOD: “Ahhhh…I love closure.”

(FADETOBLACK)

Back to the TOC

Burning the Boats

[The ring fades to black as the tape begins.]

-

O'CONNOR: Here we are, live at Wrestlestock TWOOOOOO! And we are in the midst of one of the most epic matches I've ever seen. Teresa Quaranta has been on the reciving end of thirty minutes of punishment from Sean Stevens. And it's a shame, because if it wasn't for that
underhanded sneak attack earlier, he wouldn't have gotten a single attack in!

H'WOOD: Well, that's Sean Stevens for ya. He's the best there is, and this tomato's gonna have to deal with it!

O'CONNOR: Jumping knee to the head from Stevens. Oh, the brutality. But she's still getting back onto her feet! Stevens measures her up - X-FACTOR from Stevens! And I have to believe this one is over! Cover! 1! 2! And she kicks out!

H'WOOD: This crowd is the loudest I have ever, or will ever hear them! He might have to kill Teresa Quaranta to take away that National Title!

O'CONNOR: And what's this? He's going under the ring. He's getting out a shotgun! Oh no! We've seen highspots before, but this is a capital offense! Somebody stop this. Oh no. OH NOES!

STEVENS: It's time to die, bitch!

O'CONNOR: And he fires! There's blood everywhere!

H'WOOD: Those anti-killing people to win a belt hippies might not like it, but he's getting the job done. One!

O'CONNOR: Not like this!

H'WOOD: Two!

O'CONNOR: NOT LIKE THIS!

H'WOOD: And she kicks out of a shotgun blast to the chest! This is so shocking I'm not even going to make a crass "bulletproof vest" joke here!

O'CONNOR: And she's getting up! This is insane! Stevens cocks the gun again - she just took that shotgun spray to the head and didn't even flinch! She's like the Terminator. Stevens is shaking in terror! Oh my GOD! She's shoving that shotgun up Sean Stevens's asshole! And she fires! Oh my god, that has GOTTA cause heartburn! And Sean is sobbing deleriously!

TERESA: Who's the bitch, bitch?

STEVENS: (through incredible amounts of sobbing) I'M THE BITCH! OH GOD I'M THE BITCH!

O'CONNOR: And he taps out in the middle of the ring! This... is the greatest day in professional wreslting history! Look at all this confetti! What a glorious day!

[Lamont Hollywood snuggles a puppy.]

H'WOOD: Teresa's inspiring story of triumph has totally convinced me to stop being an assbag!

[Jared Wells enters from nowhere]

WELLS: I have cancer!

-

TERESA: And that... is EXACTLY how it happened. Hey, are you writing this stuff down, boy?

As I sit across from Teresa Quatranta in this seedy New York diner, I am able to ignore the National Title around her shoulder, and use my years and years of hard earned journalistic wisdom to suspect that she may not be telling the complete truth.

BURNS: It's interesting. I saw a tape of Wrestlestock, and the two of you seemed very evenly matched.

Her eyes shrunk, and she looked back and forth nervously.

TERESA: Well, you know, the liberal media edited that match to keep him looking credible.

I gave her a look that indicated I was less than enthused with her explanation. She shrugged.

TERESA: I dunno. Somebody told me "liberal media" was a code to hypnotize half the American population, and I have to admit, it's worked pretty well this year -

[Somewhere in a Hollywood mansion, Teresa grabs a copy of Lady in the Water on DVD and BLUDGEONS famed director M. Night Shyamalan.]

TERESA: Even EYE thought you were pretentious!

[A storm of doodz in riot gear with AK's storm the room and take aim at our heroine. Teresa cringes. Potential bullets tend to do that.]

TERESA: Erm... liberal media?

[The riot squad drop their guns and start making Rain Man-esque DERRRT sounds at the top of their lungs. Teresa tiptoes, then runs away. Wow.]

Why would I, the producer of documentries on such quintessentially American topics as jazz and baseball and kickin' ass in wars, be seen with a Canadian professional wrestler on the eve of her World Title match?

Well for starters, the company isn't bad - although when I said as much, it triggered a rather tiresome twenty miute long rant on "patriarchal oppression". The meal, I'm sorry to say, wasn't as good.

TERESA: I don't know what happened here, Ken.

Teresa morosely poked around a lumpy bowl of rice, spooned it around.

TERESA: I used to work in New York, this used to be one of the best little spots around. I mean, they really had primo-level nachos. I mean, look at this. This is pathetic, man. These are Legion level nachos.

I cringed - the name Legion is fairly synonymous with suck, and the academic and historical records bear this out –

Flashback to the 60's. A nervous White House aid knocks on the door of one RIchard Nixon, clutching a copy of the Washington Post.

FLUNKIE: Sir? Sir...we just totally pulled a Legion.

Another flashback takes us to the days of French imperialism. A thunderous march of horses crosses a small creek. A tiny man rides a white horse, and some totally out of place ugly goth girl is beside him. The camera follows him, and Napoleon looks downward into it.

NAPOLEON: SOON, Russia, you will taste my despair - moohoohahahaha...

Prehistoric times. A small group of cavement huddle around a fire, uncertain of what the next day will bring... finally a large man in furs step into the cave, looking exhausted. The other people in the cave look even more dissapointed - the hunter has returned without food.

CAVEMAN: Grr. Goo grah ergrugh. Grr raah raah. Legion?

Suddenly the other cavemen fly into a rage, throwing clubs and sticks at the caveman and running him out. They follow, screaming more like apes then men -

BURNS: So here you are. Days away from the biggest match of your life. What do you do to prepare for something like that.

TERESA: A good question. See... I understand Nova. He's wrestled all around the world. He's wrestled in America. He's wrestled in Japan. He's wrestled in Thailand while wearing see through silk-screen Mighty Morphin Power Rangers underwear. He's wrestled in Canada -

BURNS: Uh.. what what was that last one?

TERESA: ...Canada?

A loud crack as my palm collided with my forehead.

TERESA: Beating Nova isn't going to be child's play. It won't be enough for me to just understand him In order to defeat him...I will have to become him.

BURNS: ... And how exactly do you plan to do that?

Teresa says nothing, but kicks a heavy pair of boos onto the table, lights perhaps the biggest joint I've ever seen in my life, wraps her lips around it, and takes a massive hit. The smell that kicks back is an interesting one and familiar... perhaps too familiar.

BURNS: Uh... is that oregano you're smoking?

She pauses, smug smile twisting into something more spiteful. Finally, she throws the joint into the chowder. She mumbles something about pinching a culero, but I didn't quite catch it.

TERESA: There's no justice, Ken Burns. There's no justice. That's like recognition, like power, like respect - it only comes with being the best... I'm going to be secluded. I'm going into training to harsh and so severe that I might not make it back again. So I knew someone had to survive, as a witness, carrying the truth of my words to generations to come.

She rises slowly, holding my hand in hers, and despite my best efforts, I can feel a pair of tears run down my face. She quickly reaches up, wiping away the salty tears ioof my anguish.

TERESA: Don't. This is best... for both of us.

She quickly collects herself, dashing off. Perhaps she was so prepared, so strong... that she didn't want me to see her cry.

Or maybe she wanted to stick me with the bill. Whore.

-

I recieved a latter a few days later. It was so poignant, so sweet, that I could almost imagine her rich, commanding mezzo read the words aloud:

[Cue that cheesy letter scrolling effect in all the old war documentaries]

TERESA V/O:

My dearest Kenneth - I pray this letter finds you in good health. It has been a long and miserable 48 hours since I last knew the pleasure of your touch. Mine was a march without sleep in the cold, blistering rain, but even without rest for my body, my mind may rest in sound confidence that it is a larger cause for which I am fighting for. Too long have the names of the past dominated the New Frontier. My fight is not merely a fight for change on my behalf, but a fight for the entire company. A fight... for our future. My mind is at ease. I am in need of a vision. These times Kenneth, they are not like the old times. Truth is confusing and does not come with ease.

While I cannot reveal my exact location, I overlook the places in which I began my journey so, so long ago, at least on the American front. I was only called because those above me were injured or dead, and I did not win the battle myself, but I learned, I stood... on the proving ground and survived, knowing that soon, this day would come. And as it comes, I look for THAT more than any premature declaration of greatness - the feeling, the elusive sense that there is more to do
and become. My time closes - I will end by asking that you write soon and often.

I remain yours in love and death,

- Teresa Quaranta

-

And that, I mean... that was sorta weird, I guess. I didn't see her again until Friday, not to far from Hershey Arena. She looked ragged - bags under her eyes, squinting through a face shining with sweat. I can't help but ask.

BURNS: This is the EAGLEstar we're talking about. Are... are you ready?

TERESA: ... Yes.

It reminded me of a story. When Cortez arrived in the New World, his first order was to burn the boats.

From the coast, they would either move forward or die.

Back to the TOC

Rook Black vs. Steve Knox vs. UBER JUDGE

(FADEIN: Back LIVE! Hershey Arena, where STEVE KNOX, ROOK BLACK and the UBER JUDGE are already in their respective corners. The bell rings to crowd cheers – BLACK immediately making a beeline for UJ.)

O’CONNOR: Wasting no time are the Judge and Rook Black! Sorry we didn’t get any introductions in fans, but these two are wasting no time in locking up, collar and elbow.

H’WOOD: Could it be any more cliché? I mean, at LEAST let Knox in.

O’CONNOR: I didn’t know you were into WHAT A SUPLEX BY STEVE KNOX!!

H’WOOD: Don’t have a fit, pal!

O’CONNOR: Come on! Knox just BOUNCED the Judge’s head off the canvas with that back suplex, and Rook only just managed to avoid being taken over himself! Rook’s springing over, looking for a leg-lock on the Uber Judge, but Knox just pie-faced him back and is laying in with stomps on Judge!

H’WOOD: He clearly wants that National Championship match at the next Crash.

O’CONNOR: ALL of them want the shot! That’s gotta be one of the most inane statements you’ve EVER made!

H’WOOD: Save it, Beansprout. You should be calling the match.

O’CONNOR: You mean Uber Judge being whipped across the ring by Knox, straight into a VICIOUS clothesline from Rook?

H’WOOD: Yeah. That’ll do pig.

O’CONNOR: Knox trying to get some more offense in, but Rook shoves him away and they’re going at it! The Uber Judge is still recovering by the ropes from that clothesline, and Rook Black and Steve Knox are going fist for fist in the middle of the ring!

H’WOOD: FINALLY, some decent action! Something your wife never gets.

O’CONNOR: Steve Knox getting the better of Black, forces him back to the ropes, Irish Whip, back off the ropes, Knox under the clothesline AND OVER THE TOP ROPE!! Uber Judge pulling the top rope down and out he goes!!

H’WOOD: ONE!! TWO!!

O’CONNOR: And a kickout by the Uber Judge! A nice backward roll from the Rook and it was almost his title shot next week!

H’WOOD: And FINALLY the Uber Judge gets some offence as he’s up first, ducking behind into a hammerlock, trying for a takedown, but Rook Black turns it around as they’re going down!

O’CONNOR: Steve Knox is down on the outside, he hit the floor hard, and Rook Black inside the ring with the hammerlock applied on the man who came to his rescue at Wrestlestock. No friends in the ring, not here in New Frontier!

H’WOOD: Everything else including the kitchen sink, but no friends.

O’CONNOR: Rook Black picking the Judge up to his feet, still with the hammerlock locked REVERSED! Uber Judge ducking quickly under, and switches into a side headlock! Rook Black tries to back him off the ropes, but he’s not letting go, and takes him down with a headlock takedown, but Rook with a headscissors, but the Judge rolls back out of it… into a headscissors of his own? How the…

H’WOOD: He’s Uber, he can do anything.

O’CONNOR: Both men with head-scissors on each other in the middle of the ring, this is confusing, and Steve Knox is slowly sliding back into the ring… he looks as confused as I am staring at the two of them!

H’WOOD: I’m so glad Beau isn’t here right now, that’s all I’m gonna say.

O’CONNOR: Now, we’ve heard the smartest thing you’ve ever said. Knox’s had enough of the… erm… number’s game, and he just DROPS a double elbow on both men! Right in the ribs, I bet they’re wishing they hadn’t been trying to grapple each others ankles off. Rolls Black onto his back, but the Judge quickly kicks him in the backside and rolls him off!

H’WOOD: And Knox isn’t happy about that! Charging in, but drop-toe hold by the masked one! The Uber Judge switching into a headlock on the canvas, but Knox POWERS out of it! Runs to the ropes

O’CONNOR: But he’s taken down with another drop-toe hold!

H’WOOD: Coincidence.

O’CONNOR: No headlock this time though, Uber Judge runs over and PUNTS Rook in the back!

H’WOOD: I think Knox needs a facelift, getting dropped twice like that in less than thirty seconds has to hurt.

O’CONNOR: He’s taking stock in the corner, as Uber Judge picks Rook up, dragging him into the middle of the ring… what was that?!

H’WOOD: Double single-leg take down?

O’CONNOR: Rook Black and the Uber Judge just took each other down, and I’m not so sure they didn’t hit their heads! Steve Knox is pulling himself to his feet, and he can’t believe what just happened!

H’WOOD: I’m surprised you’re not weirded out by the fact they BOTH have leg-locks on each other!

O’CONNOR: I think that double single-leg was weird enough thank you! Steve Knox has had enough and he’s… rolling them to the ropes??

H’WOOD: And dumps them outside. Awesome.

O’CONNOR: And he’s playing to the crowd – but they’ve still got the leg-locks locked in!!

H’WOOD: What?!

O’CONNOR: They’ve still got the leg locks applied even after that tumble out of the ring.

H’WOOD: And Knox can’t believe it! He’s basically being ignored!

O’CONNOR: And he’s not taking that! A nice stomp as he rolls to the outside, breaking Uber Judge off Black. Black’s holding his hip, I think he landed worse moments ago, but Knox ROCKING the Judge with a right hand, and DRIVES him spine first into the ring apron!

H’WOOD: And a quick kick keeps Rook down.

O’CONNOR: Smart move, he wants to only have one man to beat, first fall gets a shot at the National Championship and he’ll be damned if someone else gets it. Rolls Uber Judge back into the ring, doesn’t even bother with a cover, he just DRIVES his knee into the shoulder! Picks him up, whip into the corner, charges with a clothesline and T-BONE out of it!!

ONE!!

TWO!!!

KICKOUT as the ref was about to hit the three! Steve Knox with that MASSIVE suplex, goes for the cover again, but not even a two there!

H’WOOD: Uh-oh, Rook’s getting up.

O’CONNOR: And Steve sees him, boot to the face sends him back to the floor. Turns around SMALL PACKAGE!!

ONE!!

TWO!! Kickout and he was almost beaten in the middle of the ring!

H’WOOD: And he gets tripped up as he tries to go to the ropes! I guess Rook Black didn’t appreciate an awesome kick to the face.

O’CONNOR: And he went face first again! Three times in one match, and it looks like the Uber Judge and Rook Black are on the same page as they both lay in some boots! Rook Black picks up Knox, Uber Judge with a hard right, Black with a boot to the gut… BIG double vertical suplex!! Uber Judge into the cover, but Black throws him off!

H’WOOD: That’s what makes these one fall three-ways fun. No team lasts long.

O’CONNOR: Steve Knox kicks out as Black tries the cover, but the Uber Judge comes in and snapmares Black down… kinda?

H’WOOD: Did he just get snapmared mid-snapmare?

O’CONNOR: I think so.

H’WOOD: How is that possible?

O’CONNOR: How should I know?

H’WOOD: OK, ok, chill.

O’CONNOR: Knox trying to catch his breath, I think that double suplex took a lot out of him. Uber Judge back to his feet first, Rook Black’s favouring that hip after the spill to the outside earlier, and Uber Judge spins him around and slaps on a sleeper!

H’WOOD: He helped him at the pay per view so he could put him to sleep here?

O’CONNOR: I doubt it, he wants the win here. Felix Red knows who he is but he ain’t talking.

H’WOOD: First time for everything.

O’CONNOR: Rook Black’s trying to fight out of the sleeper, but the Uber Judge isn’t giving him any room to move… KNOX WITH A SLEEPER!! KNOX WITH A SLEEPER ON THE JUDGE!!

H’WOOD: You’ve gotta be kidding!

O’CONNOR: The ref’s asking Black and Judge if EITHER wants to give it up, two sleeper’s in the middle of the ring! I can’t believe OWW!!!

H’WOOD: Right in the goolies.

O’CONNOR: The what?

H’WOOD: [bleep!] I gotta stop eating out Victoria Beckham.

O’CONNOR: You mean eating out with.

H’WOOD: No. No, I don’t.

O’CONNOR: The ref was in there so close he didn’t see Rook Black with a back heel right between the legs of BOTH Uber Judge and Steve Knox! We’re just about coming up on the end of our FIRST HOUR of Crash Television, which unfortunately means we’ve got to pay up to our DIRECTV and SIRIUS SATELLITE partners!

*.*.*.*

(FADEIN: An all-white backdrop, EL JANITO and BEEF of the NOTORIOUS NFW MEGA JOB stand in their respective attire shot from the waist up.)

JANITO: “I’m a MAC.”

BEEF: “I’m a PC.”

(The camera pans down showing STEVE, who nails them both with NUTSHOTS. EL JANITO falls to his knees, foaming at the mouth as BEEF falls into a fetal position on the ground.)

EL JANITO: (eyes lolling) “THE SEVENTH SIN IS UPON MY LOINS!”

BEEF: “CRABS ARE HAVING SEX INSIDE MR. JOHNSON’S STEAMSHIP!”

(STEVE walks forwards in a tuxedo, straightens his bow-tie.)

STEVE: “TROJAN.”

(FADETOBLACK)

TROJAN CONDOM MAN V/O: “Trojans – protectors of the OTHER Gay Viruses.”

*.*.*.*

(FLASH CUTTO: Back LIVE! Hershey Arena – ROOK BLACK stomping a fire out of STEVE KNOX’s skull, if one were burning there. UBER JUDGE gets up and BLACK revs back around with a DISCUS CLOTHESLINE, which misses!)

O’CONNOR: “We’re back and Black’s trying to maintain control of the match, but the Judge has slipped behind – UH-OH! (crowd gets loud!) He’s trying to hook a head and arm suplex, but Rook counters with a back elbow into the exposed ribcage! Judge falls into the ropes, Rook grabs him and sends off an Irish Whip – NO REVERSED! Rook ducks under a discus clothesline, bounced off the ropes – OH! Roaring Elbow! Judge staggers back, hits the ropes! (CROWD POP!) ROARING ELBOW! Rook bounces off the ropes and the Judge ducks under his Elbow – LOOK OUT! (CROWD POP!) HEAD AND ARM SUPLEX! Rook got planted! UJ gets up, but here come Knox! OH! Boot to the gut – kneelift!”

H’WOOD: “These guys are striking pretty hard out there, you gotta figure if Rook gets TWO National Championship matches – he CAN’T mess that up.”

O’CONNOR: “Knox dragging the Judge into the middle of the ring and takes him up and over with a Cradle Suplex! ONE! TWO! NO! Judge kicks out, Knox staying on him with a couple of elbow drops and bounces off the ropes…kneedrop to the head! Judge rolling around after that one and Knox quickly grabs him by the hair and stuffs him between his legs! (crowd gets loud!) He’s trying to lift, but Uber Judge kicks his legs and lands back on his feet! (boos!) Back Body Drop by the Uber Judge! Knox scampers up and WATCH OUT! (CROWD POP!) SPINNING ROARING ELBOW BY UBER JUDGE!”

H’WOOD: “That literally knocked him into next week!”

O’CONNOR: “Knox stumbled and fell out of the ring, he’s all out of sorts as Rook Black’s getting to his feet! (crowd screams!) OHHHHHHHH! DISCUS LARIAT TO THE UBER JUDGE! ROOK COVERS! ONNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOO! NO! Uber Judge kicks out! Rook maintaining that ultra-composed look…almost as if he’s emotionless in that ring.”

H’WOOD: “If only that was because he had a killer instinct…he’s just weird.”

O’CONNOR: “Rook bringing up Uber Judge to a standing base, and he’s got him around the throat! (crowd gets loud!) We could be seeing a Gauntl—WAIT! (crowd gets LOUDER!) UBER JUDGE COUNTERS WITH HIS OWN CHOKE! They’re playing one freaky game of chicken, both trying to angle for a legsw—WAIT! KNOX! KNOX! He’s got them both and gives them a Noggin’ Knocker! (crowd cheers!) Another! Another! FOUR! (crowd joins!) FIVE! SIX! (crowd screams!) Double Elbow to Knox’s gut! They’ve got him in a double choke! (CHEERS!) Knox with a right boot to Judge! To Rook! LOOK AT THIS! (CROWD EXPLOSION!) DEEEEEE DEEEEEEE TEEEEEEEE! HE GOT ‘EM BOTH WITH THE SINGLE-ARM HOOKS!”

H’WOOD: “Rook Black needs to stop trying to go after this masked freak that’s playing mind games with him. Until I see a consistent strategy I’d agree will win this match for the either of those two, it’s only inevitable that Knox will take advantage like this!”

O’CONNOR: “Knox getting on his feet and he’s going after Uber Judge first, bringing him into a front facelock and now lifts him UHHHHHHHHHHP for a Suplex! (crowd gets loud!) And he’s holding him up a LONG TIME!”

(CLOSEUP: KNOX balancing the judge as ROOK staggers to his feet, KNOX drops down to a crowd roar and then backrolls and bounces off the ropes!)

O’CONNOR: “Look at Knox go! (cheers!) Running Forearm to Rook! Knox signaling to the rafters again and reels in Black, he’s got him UHHHHHHHHHHHP! (LOUD ROARS!) RINSE AND REPEAT, DOWWWWWWWWWWWN THEY FALL!”

H’WOOD: “Knox has to stop showboating a little, he’s playing up to the crowd a little right now.”

(CLOSEUP: KNOX standing in the middle of the ring, smiling widely as BLACK somehow tries to stand up. He shouts “LET’S GET AWESOME!”)

O’CONNOR: “Knox bouncing off the ropes, going a second ti—(GROANS!) OH! UBER JUDGE PULLED HIM OUT! He grabbed his ankle and Knox hits the mat facefirst! I think he was getting ready to hit the Gold Rush Lariat on the stumbling and bumbling Rook Black, who now grabs him…he’s got him UHHHHHHHP! (CROWD EXPLOSION!) POWERBOMB! With a Jacknife Pin! ONNNNNNE! TWOOOOOO! (groans!) OHHHHHH! Running Front Kick to Black’s head by the Judge!”

H’WOOD: “Well, let’s see if this guy can put this one to bed and stop trying to help Black learn something about himself. I’m tired of people doing that…he just needs a good hooker to teach him everything he needs to know.”

O’CONNOR: “Judge peppering Black with forearm strikes and pushes him back into the corner turnbuckles and now sends him off with an Irish Whip into the turnbuckles! (crowd gets loud!) Now, the Judge is going for Knox…I think he’s going to try and send him crashing into Rook! LOOK OUT! REVERSED! (LOUD ROARS!) THE JUDGE NAILS ROOK! They’re BOTH in the corner! Speranza trying to get them unseparated, but Knox yells at him to move! WATCH OUT! (LOUD CRASH! GROANS!) OH NOOOOOOOO! THE JUDGE PULLED SPERANZA BACK IN! HE JUST TOOK THE BRUNT OF THE CLOTHESLINE!”

(CLOSEUP: KNOX stomping around the ring pissed at what’s just happened as he watches SPERANZA flop to the mat, winces as JUDGE falls on the ref and can only shake his head when BLACK lands on both.)

KNOX: “This is NOT awesome.”

(All of a sudden, from under the ring FOUR UBER JUDGES of varying sizes roll out from under the ring as KNOX’s eyes go wide. They’re all wearing the same, exact attire as the UBER JUDGE with slight modifications to the smallest of the squadron wearing a Rising Star headband…and holding a Kendo Stick.)

KNOX: (getting into a readied crouch) “NOT AWESOME. SO NOT AWESOME.”

(CUTTO: One of the masked ‘UBER JUDGES’ rolls in the ring and immediately eats a running clothesline that knocks him out of the ring! The crowd roars as two more roll in the ring, both getting stomped by KNOX!)

O’CONNOR: “This is crazy! The Uber Judge has hatched a plan!”

H’WOOD: “I think I like him much more now!”

O’CONNOR: “Knox fighting off the two…he’s got one around in a bear hug – POPS THE HIPS! (crowd roars!) OVERHEAD RELEASE BELLY TO BELLY! The other jumps at him with a Bodypress as he gets up! (crowd pop!) Knox caught him! OHMYGAHD! (LOUD CRASH!) HE JUST SLAMMED HIM OUT OF THE RING! (CRACK! Groans!) OHNO! (CRACK! More groans!) The Kendo Stick wielding Uber Judge just nailed him in the ribs twice and is now getting the hell out of there!”

H’WOOD: “If that’s P. KING DUK, I could get down with this guy.”

O’CONNOR: “Rook is on his feet, he’s waiting for Knox to turn around! (crowd screams!) HE’S GOT HIM IN THE CHOKEHOLD! (CROWD ROARS!) GAUNTLET BACKHAND! He’s covering Knox, but he doesn’t see Uber Judge climbing the top rope…WITH A GAVEL! (crowd gets loud!) HE’S GOT A GAVEL!”

(CLOSEUP: BLACK slapping his hand on the mat as SPERANZA is motionless to the side. UJ perches with the gavel raised in the air like Excalibur itself.)

O’CONNOR: “OH NOOOOOOO! (CROWD SCREAMS!) HE NAILED ROOK! BLACK’S OUT! BLACK’S OUT!”

(QUICK CUTTO: …A 5th UBER JUDGE running down the ramp…except he’s only got the mask on. He’s wearing a purple/red psychedelic swirled bodysuit, differing himself from the past interference. The crowd gets loud as the Uber Judge tries dragging Speranza to the middle of the ring…)

O’CONNOR: “This only gets stranger and stranger…when will this madness end?”

H’WOOD: “If the Judge wakes up Speranza…probably soon. He’s covering both Knox and Rook, it’d be a smart move if he saw behind him!”

O’CONNOR: (over loud screams!) “And now this 5th UBER JUDGE is climbing the top ropes to the blindside of the ORIGINAL UBER JUDGE! LOOK OUT! (CROWD GROANS!) FROG SPLASH! HE JUST TOOK OUT THE JUDGE, ROOK AND KNOX IN A PILE!”

CROWD: “HOLY SH*T! HOLY SH*T!”

O’CONNOR: “What’s he doing!? What’s he doing!?”

H’WOOD: “This insanity better be in check by the time the main event rolls around!”

O’CONNOR: “The mystery man is out of the ring and he’s left both Steve Knox and The Uber Judge on top of Rook Black! Speranza’s waking up! Speranza’s counting, he doesn’t see them BOTH on Rook! ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEE! (LOUD ROARS!) I DON’T BELIEVE THIS!”

(CLOSE-UP: UBER JUDGE #5 on the ramp, smiling back as the crowd watches in shock.)

#5: “My friend, My friend…”

O’CONNOR: “That sounded familiar.”

H’WOOD: “Then you must be CRAZY.”

O’CONNOR: “Speranza is calling for the bell, but realizing that an unconscious Uber Judge and Steve Knox are lying on top of Rook Black. I don’t know what the official decision is, but Speranza’s shouting them at Lee-Baby and we should have it in a few moments.”

SIMS: (V/O) “At the time of 13 minutes and 13 seconds, the WINNERS of this match and BOTH advancing to a NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE SHOT at Crash 46 via DOUBLE PINFALL, THEEEEEEEEEE UBER JUDGE AND STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVE KNAHHHHHHHHHXXXXSSSS!”

O’CONNOR: “WOW! Another Triple Threat Match is on the horizon for those two as The Uber Judge and Steve Knox have been credited with VICTORY and will face EITHER Nova or Teresa Quaranta at Crash 46 – dependent upon the result of their match.”

H’WOOD: “Too bad everyone’s completely conked ‘cause I’d LOVE to see their reactions right now.”

O’CONNOR: “We’ll be right back as we hit the HOMESTRETCH to this evening’s GRAND FINALES!”

Back to the TOC

Back and Blueberry

V/O: “The following message is being brought to you by LeQuan Enterprises.”

CUE UP: “Cowboys From Hell” by Pantera.

The lights flicker as three men make their way out to the middle of the ring. All three wear neo-retro cowboy hats and aviator glasses. Two of the men act as bodyguards and keep the fans from grasping and groping at the gentiles of the third man. All three enter the ring, and the “third man” asks for a microphone.

His GXW t-shirt is ripped down the sides and hangs like a child’s poncho over his torso. He slowly removes his aviators and his cowboy hat, handing them