WSE 2009 : The Road 2 WrestleNymphoMania 69...

[THE Mac Bry v2]

WRESTLE-NYMPHO-MANIA 69!!!
Live (on tape) on Paper View...
Hosted in the Middle of Nowhere...
Available? Whenever I get my lazy ass around to finishing it, THAT's when.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

After months of tireless procrastination, it all leads to THIS... unfortunately. The StupidStars of World Sports Entertainment have spent an ENTIRE episode of Nitro building up every single match on THE CARD~!!1, and to be honest, one show's worth of hype is all that's needed for this SPECTACULAR, AMAZING, JAW-DROPPING EXTRAVAGANZA!!!!!~!!1a!... ! Every single angle that began on the debut edition of WSE Nitro culminates ONE WEEK LATER...

... Or DO they?

Yes.

OR DO THEY?!

Here's the card ;

The Man they CALLED... Stung vs "The Samoan Superfly" Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga
The WSE Title is ON THE LINE in the hellacious Triple Decker Cell! Three cages, stacked one atop another, with the championship suspended high above... The wise old owl of The Glass Ceiling Gang faces Rocky, the young buck representing Those Guys, a bunch of nameless, faceless jobbers. ... But hey, I'm SURE they stand a chance against career politicians... RIGHT?!

Wright Angle, Anti-Christ Cage, King Sucka vs Team 2D & hYpo
These six men square off in a three on three elimination tag team table match, pitting three of the most despicable, vile competitors in the game, against three nameless, faceless jobbers. ... Really, Those Guys just AREN'T main eventers. Period. The only reason they're IN the main event is because the GCG needs to act like they're "putting over" a group of random youngsters, just so they can end up pinning the whole lot of them without breaking a sweat. ... Think I might be bending the walls of kayfabe just a little too much? Yeah, me too... I'll shut up.

Goo the Adventurer vs Jippy Jam the Jumpin' Jughead vs Redd W. Bloo vs Enigma Charismatic vs Rey Mysteriotypical vs "Da Next Big Animal" Bobby Batista BrockBerg vs "The Politically Correct StupidStar" PC Punk vs Luscious Mayweather Nocturnal Oxford Portman vs "The Big Red Nosed Monster" Klown vs The World's Sexiest Chocolate Man
Besides having the LONGEST list of names of all the matches on the card... This ten man battle will pit some of the brightest stars... and Jippy Jam... in a race to claim a shot at the WSE Title! The rules are simple ; a member of the WSE crew will hold everyone inside the First National Bank of Nowhere hostage... The staff member will wrap them all up in a giant bag, lock the bag in the bank's vault, and then all ten combatants will enter the bank, and be challenged to search for the combination to the vault. Once they FIND it, they'll have to use the combination to open the safe, before unwrapping the sack, freeing everyone inside. The winner will be the first guy to force the hostages to form a human ladder to a mini-vault suspended from the ceiling, which, once grabbed, will represent a future title shot at the WSE championship belt! ... Ok, so maybe the rules aren't THAT simple. ... So sue me.

...
Don't sue me.

"Drunk Ass" Austin Stevens vs Sanity? No... Marella
Austin Stevens defends his Applecore 24/7 Title in this contest being billed as a "Hide Behind Man Woman" match. Sanity? No was the victim of a Drunk Ass Drop in a cemetary during the Nowhere Street Fight, and Stevens pinned Marella within an open grave. Now? Sanity? No is looking for PAYBACK!!! And as everyone knows, payback's a bitch. And so is Man Woman. ... But don't tell that transexual freak job I said that.

"The Mang" Triple S vs "The IQ Killer" Retard Orton
A war for the ages... An epic struggle... A match really just booked so we could have a parody of the Randy Orton / Triple H feud. But hey, atleast it beats a feud based around two men fighting over a fat, ugly woman, just because she has the stroke to book them into the title picture.

John Semen vs The World's Largest Transexual Athlete, The Big Ho vs "The Rated G StupidStar", Nicky Mowse - 3-way Minnie Mowse on a Pole Match
Annnd... here's a parody of a feud based around two men fighting over a fat, ugly woman, just because she has the stroke to book them into the title picture. Only in THIS one... there's a POLE! Everything's better with a POLE! Especially strip clubs... Oh, plus there's a white rapper. Everything's... not so much better with a white rapper. Just... a whole lot whiter. But I digest...

The UnderBaker vs The Head Ache Kid
The two men who duked it out in the cemtary... before Sanity? No, Drunk Ass, BrockBerg, and the Big Ho crashed the party. One is light, one is dark... one is warm, one is bitter cold... one is smooth and chocolatey, one is crispy, crunchy, peanut buttery... mmm, cannndddyyy... Er, ANYWAY... these two men will be challenged to the first EVER "Job-a-thon", with the first man to succesfully job out three other men walking away the victor. And with a record of jobbing out everyone in their path like these two have, something HAS to give! Either that... or these two could be involved in an infinite squash match. And we do NOT want that...

KYJ (Kris Y. Jeriko) vs R-Kwik, Afro Wig Cool, Lil Fucker w/SPAM!
Speaking of squashes... Yeah. A guy based on one of Raw's top heels, versus a midget, a black rapper who can't rap, and... a wig. One word ;

DAMN!

Plus:
Jack Hoff made an announcement after Nitro went off the air, declaring that he would hold the first EVER "Jack Hoff Jillion Dollar Jamboree" at this year's big event! He will actually be putting ten dollars of his OWN money on the line, with the first lucky caller winning the ten dollar bill... as long as they can answer a trivia question. When asked why Mr. Hoff is calling the segment the "Jillion Dollar Jamboree" when he's only putting ten dollars at stake.... Jack quickly said "hey, over there!" and then ran. ... The interviewer wasn't that bright, honestly...

Expect all this and less, when YOU order the Step Daddy of 'Em All, WrestleNymphoMania 69!!! It's comin'... tah GET'CHA!!!*

*Boogeyman not included.

~ Tad "The Tool" Griswold

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=====================
All the News Not Fit to Print
March 29, 2009
=====================

Hello there sports fans! This is Wes Rivers, former WSE commentator, but with the culmination of Nitro #1, I have taken a new role - WSE News Columnist! From now on, I'll be bringing YOU the top stories in the World of Sports Entertainment, from the goings on in the backstage, to what crap they're serving in catering! It'll ALL be here, right here, in The Wild, Wild Wes Report!

Tonight's top (and only) story concerns troubling news that could very well disrupt WrestleNymphoMania's main event! With only a week away... or perhaps two... three TOPS... it is critical that things become finalized, and don't careen off the tracks... but things may very well be in dissaray, thanks to what some are considering an "accident"...

Earlier tonight, Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga was run over by a white hummer. And then beaten severely by a man described as resembling the "Black Scorpion" of WCW infamy. Before finally being assaulted with a seemingly endless supply of pies. Simply tragic... But still, hey, who knows, all of that COULD be an accident. Chairman Jack Hoff says it is, and if he says something, you can bet your bottom dollar it's the TRUTH! Unless Mr. Hoff's mouth is open. Or he's talking to you via a computer. Or cellphone texting. Or a telegraph. Or... well, really, if he's speaking to you through any form of communication. But other than that, you know it's a FACT!

Rocky was declared the #1 contender for the WSE Title at the inaugural edition of Nitro, after winning the first ever Nowhere City Street Fight. As the co-leader of Those Guys, a young, quasi-talented team of men bent on breaking through the Glass Ceiling Gang, Rocky outlasted 39 other men, throughout the streets and establishments of Nowhere, Oklahoma. Currently, having won the brawl, Rocky is scheduled to appear at WrestleNymphoMania to face the co-leader of The GCG, The WSE World Champion, The Man They Called... Stung. The match-up promises to be a fine battle, between a despised villain, and a beloved favorite...

But some people have their reservations concerning Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga. Some critics have stated their annoyance with the Samoans' Champ. Some people have stated their displeasure with Rocky for... well, they didn't really say WHY, but we're sure it's a valid reason. Either that, or they HATE ME~!

...

But I digest.

With Rocky now possibly in serious ouchiness territory, the WrestleNymphoMania 69 main event, the biggest main event in all the land, is now up in the air. Will the Bahama Bull manage to make it? Will he fight through the pain, the anguish, and the booboos? Will anyone actually care? Probably not. But we'll be here anyway, keeping you updated, just because we have no life, and all the time in the world to kill!

Stay tuned...
- Wes Rivers

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| WRESTLENYMPHOMANIA 69 EWZINE POWER HOUR RADIO AD |
__________________________________________________________

SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAYYY [or possibly later]

YOU WANTED THE BEST? WELL THAT'S TOUGH COOKIES, BUSTER, BECAUSE YOU GOT -

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WORLD SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT PRESENTS THE STEP DADDY OF 'EM ALL, THE NIGHT WHERE EVERYTHING CHANGES... WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!

IT'S A NEW ERA OF CRAPULENCE! THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE REST OF WSE'S MISERABLE EXISTENCE! IT'S NEW, IT'S FRESH, AND IT TASTES LIKE CHICKEEEN!

BELIEVE IN THE UNBELIEVABLE, EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED, AND LISTEN AS I CONTINUE THIS ADVERTISEMENT FOR THE NEXT THIRTY MINUTES IN A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO SOUND HARDCORRRE!

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THE AWESOME POWER OF DESTRUCITY COMPELS YOU! DO NOT RESIST! DO NOT TURN AWAY! DO NOT PASS GO, AND DO NOT COLLECT 100 DOLLARS!!!

DOES IT SOUND LIKE I'M JUST MAKING UP RANDOM CRAP TO FILL UP TIME? WELL GOOD, BECAUSE I AM! BUT WE WON'T BE JUST FILLING UP TIME AT -

WRESTLENYMPHOMANIAAA!

AND AFTER THE SHOW, MAKE SURE TO VISIT NEARBY CRAZY BOB'S WACKY WAVING INFLATABLE FLAILING ARM TUBE GUY WAREHOUSE AND EMPORIUM, WHERE THEY'RE PRICES ARE INSAAANE!!!

VISIT THE MERCHANDISE STAND. YOU WANT HATS? WE GOT 'EM! YOU WANT SHIRTS? WE GOT 'EM! ALL WRESTLING MERCHANDISE 99 PERCENT OFF BECAUSE THIS CRAP HAS GOTTA GOOO!!!

WITNESS AS WORLD SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT MAKES HISTORY, AS THE WSE CHAMPION STUNG MEETS ROCKY JOE-KISHI-MAGA, FACE TO FACE, EYE TO EYE, NOSE TO NOSE, LIPS TO LIPS... OR NOT.

IF YOU WANT SUSPENSE, ACTION, DRAMA, INTRIGUE, BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS... WATCH SOMETHING ELSE! BUT IF YOU WANT TO WASTE FOUR HOURS OF YOUR PRECIOUS LIFETIME WATCHING AN EVENT SO BADLY PUT TOGETHER IT FORCES YOU TO CLAW YOUR OWN EYES OUT AND FLATTEN THEM WITH A STEAM ROLLER, THUS RIDDING YOU OF THE SIGHT OF SUCH UNGODLY AWFULNESS AS THIS, THEN YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO WATCH -

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Ahem... Shouldn't have eaten that entire bag of sugar...

...

BE THEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

________________________________________________

WrestleNymphoMania 69 eW Double Power Hour Radio Ad
________________________________________________


[As the cameras roll, Rat Bore is in the ring, holding a microphone to his mouth. Whose bright idea was this...]

Rat: Hello dar for the gentle ladies and men of refinement! Tonight, momentumous occasionally! Tonight, big night of spectacle and grand for sure! Tonight, she is Wrassle Manias 72~! Tonight, I sing for you mine song of the national, "Foreign Country Song for Pride and Honor and Respect and Patriot Being and Happiness for Country"! And she goes something a little like this -

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh say
can you seeeeee, by dawn of early light, and the proudness of being hum-ballllllll
Look into sky heaven at top of above,

[Images float across the screen of bald eagles crapping on people's heads... Guys having sex with apple pie in college humor movies... and of course, junkies snorting anthrax. Good ol' American know-how, allowing our youth to make the best of terrorist attacks! If you're going to do ANYTHING with anthrax, make sure it goes up your nose and not down your throat! ... Not like I know this from personal experience, or anything...]

Rat: We feel glad times for our birth place of origiiiiinnnn
We can feel good for being bornified in this particular spot against our own choicesssss......
And the laaaaaaaaaaaaaandddddddddddd... offfff theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee- - - - -



BBQ: BAH GAWD! BAH GAWD! It's him! He's here! In the flesh! ... BAH GAWD!!!

[The sound of glass breaking shatters throughout the sold out, eleventy bajillion and not counting, packed crowd here in the newly redesigned Middle of Nowhere Arena! How did we get so many people to come to our show? Let's just say a small country in Africa is now entirely clear of all starving, sickly looking humans! And they're all, right here, in THIS very building!!! Let's hope Jack can come through with the promise of free food... I know he just HATES to part with the stuff.]

["Drunk Ass" Austin Stevens stomps down to the ring, looking as if he's got Rat set square in his sights... Austin rolls into the ring, and hops right back to his feet, before getting in Rat's face, and staring directly into the scrawny foreigner's "beady little eyes"... Austin Stevens walks away from Rat, and grabs another microphone, before lifting it to his mouth, and begins to pace back and forth, forth and back-

Rex: ... Huh?

[ - with Rat looking on nervously the whole time.]

Rat: Hello dar you baldy man with neck colored red! How are-

Drunk Ass: NEH-EHHH!!!

["Drunk Ass", obviously drunk off his... well, ass... hits the Drunk Ass Drop on Rat, INSTANTLY severing the poor bastard's head from his neck, killing him immediately. Drunk Ass grabs a beer, tilts Rat's decapited dome backward, and pours a few suds down the gullet of the lone head... the beer trickling right through and out the hole of the neck, splattering against the canvas... Austin drops the can of Sudweiser, and punts the head into the front row, where the starving African men and women are clamoring for it. Hey, ANY meat is good meat when you're used to living off of protein rich elephant crap and handfuls of your own urine! ... Great visual, don't you think?]

Drunk Ass: Ol' Drunk Ass... I SAID DRUNK ASS!!! *hic* I had me one beer... two beers... damn, I think I had me 'bout fi-teen beers out der in muh trailer... See, I'm used tah livin' in a trailer. But that one they got us StupidStars ah-livin' in is one ah dem fancy shmancy double WIDE trailers, yall know what ahm-ah sayin'? And I been out der spendin' half muh damn check just guzzlin' down beers, gettin' ready fer this here speck-tee-kull!!! And boooyyyy HOWDY, tonight, ol' Drunk Ass is gunna open up a whole keg full ah whipped ass!

Drunk Ass: It started here, with this har headless Iraqian!!! An' now he ain't nuttin' more than a suicide bomber... only he ain't bombed nothin' except the ratings of each and every last WSE show he's been a part of! I mean, you just KNOW it was his fault the past six or seven shows tanked... cuz it sure as shoot weren't ol' "Drunk Ass" Austin Stevens! An' as far as suicide? Well, this feller never even HAD a chance, lemme tell ya. He didn't go of his own free will, no siree BOB! This sumbitch went tah market, but did this sumbitch have roast beef?

NEH EHHH!!!

Drunk: This lil', milli vanilli mouthed rat bastard sum BITCH had none! Cuz, THIS sumbitch got his head torn clean off his neck, kicked like a damn football intah the next field over, for the game winnin' goal, and now this cotton pickin' VARMINT is GONE, wee... wee... wee. All the way tah HELL, where he an' all dem other terry-rist jackasses belong!!! And THAT'S the wind chime... when the air quits ah-movin'!!!

[Drunk Ass grabs two more cans of beer, and bangs them together, sending more beer OUT of the cans than what eventually goes IN to Austin's mouth, when he decides to mount the turnbuckle and "celebrate". Well, there goes another backstage interviewer... I wonder if Kevin Kelly is busy... Oh what am I saying, of COURSE he's not! Cue intro...]



++++++++++++++++++++
April 30th, 2009
Live (on tape) on Paper View!
++++++++++++++++++++

BBQ: BAH GAWD, folks, what an AWESOME, MARVELOUS, SPECTACULAR kick start tah this here spectacle! Bah GAWD, if there's a God, his name is bah Gawd "Drunk Ass" Austin Stevens!!!

Rex: And who do you think YOU are, Jesus? Which, if that's the case... we're all doomed.

BBQ: Folks, tonight promises tah be the GREATEST SHOW IN THE HISTORY OF YER GOD (aka, "Drunk Ass" Austin Stevens) FORSAKEN LIFE!!! We've got muh boy Drunk Ass taking on the sissy, foo foo, girly man Sanity? No... Marella! We gots ourselves the Ayatollah ah Granola, KYJ, taking on THREE of the most jobberly jobbers in the history of Jobberdom.

Rex: I wonder if they're going to job?

BBQ: We even got an Eggstream, double title challenge, when Mondo Champeen Sid Viscous defends HIS title against Tax, reignin' an' defendin' For The Win title holder. But next? We gots the first EVER "Let's Rob a Bank" match, pitting ten of this sport's freshest, youngest talent, one against eachother, with the winner being the first to crack TWO safes... and to walk away with a shot at ANY title in this company!!! We'll get right to it... NEXT!!!

(A video package shows the accident that took place a couple of weeks prior to WrestleNymphoMania 69... As Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga made his way through the arena parking lot, he was blindsided. Not just by a baseball bat... or a hummer screeching into his prone body... but by an avalanche of cream filled pies. As a black and white shot of Rocky laying in a pool of blood and tasty dessert appears, words are spoken by a mysterious voice...)

Mysterious Voice: Riddle me this... Riddle me that. Who's afraid of the big... black... BAT?

[The camera cuts to... the rafters? The Man They Called Stung is standing, looking down at the ring far below... holding a black baseball bat in one hand. In the other ; one of the aforementioned pies. It's all coming together... !!!~!]

Stung: I'll TELL you who's afraid... [Stung turns to the camera... a sick smirk spread across his face] YOU ARE, Rocky. Heh... you see these? The two things that brought you to your demise? These aren't just weapons of chaos... oh no, these are SYMBOLS. The bat symbolizes pain... and the pie? The pie symbolizes humiliation. And after I proceeded to tear you apart with the both of them, you felt pain, and oh yes, you FELT humiliation. You felt BOTH, raining down upon you like rain in a tsunami. You felt a storm so harsh... that I have some bad news for all the Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga fans out there. All THREE of you.

Stung: Rocky... is DEAD!!!

Stung: Well, ok, maybe the word "dead" is stretching it a bit. But after suffering SEVERE pie crust lacerations, Rocky has been sidelined... INDEFINATELY~!!! No one expects him to return, and as for me personally? I couldn't be happier. No more Rocky means no more "Those Guys". And with Joe-Kishi-Maga and his gaggle of no name, no talent JOBBERS out of the picture, the Glass Ceiling Gang may as well take an extended vacation, because the WSE StupidStars have as much a chance of taking this title in a match against ANY of us, as they do of taking it with the whole lot of us thousands of miles away from the arena!

Voice From Below: Oh, is that true?!

Stung: ...

[Stung removes his gaze from the camera, and returns to looking down at the ring, where the co-leader of "Those Guys", Cactus ManLove, stands in the ring with a microphone.]

ManLove: Stung, you honestly believe I'd let you off the hook THAT easily? As you should know, I'm still in control of 1 tenth of a percent of this company, and I'll be DAMNED if I let you and your band of no-goodnicks run roughshod over me!!! Of course, a member of "Those Guys" standing up to The GCG is never really going to lead to a pretty sight... and as co-leader of a gaggle of no name, no talent jobbers, I'll probably have my ass handed to me... BUT REGARDLESS, I'm challenging you, right here, right now, to that little six man tag team table elimination match that was planned for later tonight... only you know what? Let's change it up a little, whadya say? It's going to be me, and Team 2D, vs YOU... Sucka T, and Wright Angle! And whichever team wins, gets to choose a member to hold that WSE Title you flaunt about like a trophy.

Stung: You want me, Cactus? You want to take on the Legendary ICON?! You want to go one on one with the co-leader of the Glass Ceiling Gang, the Man they CALLED... Stung? Well then... Riddle me this. Riddle me that...

ManLove: Why doesn't Cactus see where he can stick that big... black... BAT?!

Stung: Are you gay?

ManLove: ... HAVE A NICE GAY! ... Dammit, I mean DAY!

[Stung looks down at Cactus... before tossing down the pie, trying to hit Cactus... but the pie misses by a mile and lands in our bony, hungry audience.]

BBQ: BAH GAWD, The WSE Galaxians is ah-clamorin' all over them morsels ah mouth waterin', smack tastic tastiness!

Rex: Damn man, one of those bastards is actually CLAWING the pie out of the mouth of an African who's been trampled to death! It's March Madness at WrestleNymphoMania 69!

BBQ: Ack-sha-lee, Rex, it's the 13th o' April. ... Just so's yall know.

Rex: Well, it wasn't when this was written...

BBQ: Er... yeah it was. I thought I was s'posed tah be the dumb one?

Rex: Don't worry, you still are. Let's just get on with this match. This guy's starting to make me regret turning down that well-paying job as a scorpion wrangler...

[Cactus has made his way to the backstage area to gather up the Mario Boyz. The camera cuts to the rafters, where Stung is eating a slice of pie... with a vulture sitting on his shoulder. Stung tries to take a bite, but the vulture pecks it out of his hand. Stung turns an eye to the bird, and looks a tad ticked off. Stung then reaches for another piece, but the vulture pecks his hand. Stung is beginning to boil.]

Stung: Dammit, I knew I shoulda gone with a canary...

[Stung tries to reach for the pie once more, but the vulture returns to pecking at his hand. Stung has had enough, and swats at the vulture, but as soon as he does, the bird flies into the air, and begins to peck at Stung's eyes, nose, and face. The Man They Called Stung tries to smack the bird down, but to no avail.]

Stung: DAMMIT! THAT'S MY PIE, VULTURE! MY... DAMN... PIIIEEE!!!

[Stung leaps at the vulture, bat in hand, looking almost like an old woman shooing out a cat with a broom... The vulture flies a bit across the edge of the rafters, and Stung follows, trying to swing for a "home run"... he reels back with the black bat, and - ]

BBQ: OH BAH GAWD!!!

Rex: Huh? Oh, sorry, I was looking through a Victoria's Secret catalogue, what'd I miss?

BBQ: YOU HORNY S.O.B.!!!

Rex: Do I deny it?

BBQ: Dammit, Stung just fell 50 or more feet, through the cotton-pickin' air, an' landed RIGHT on the damn-dable bah gawd turnbuckle! WHAT A HELLACIOUS ACCIDENT, FOLKS!!! Tell me, how d'ya learn tah fall outta the sky, 'bout a hunderd or so feet, and onto a turnbuckle?! AS I LIVE AN' BREATHE, STUNG MAY BE BROKEN IN HALF!!!

Rex: Well... to be perfectly honest, he's probably dead. I mean, this reminds me of something else that happened a while back... sometime in 1997 I think...

BBQ: You mean Owen?

Rex: Who?

BBQ: ...

Rex: Now I remember! My Aunt Helga tripped over a stuffed dinosaur last fall. And she had a big fall. And she fell into unconciousness. And then she fell six feet deep. Well... she didn't FALL six feet deep, she was buried in a coffin, but I'm trying to tell a stupid joke here...

BBQ: Stung is bah gawd layed out in the center of the ring! Is there any sanity left in this bah gawd world?!?!?!!?

Rex: Not with you still around... If I could just get a bottle of barbecue sauce, some rat poison, and an alibi...

BBQ: Is Stung DEAD?! We'll find out, after THIS commercial break!

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BBQ: We seriously need tah pay more attention tah who we get tah sponsor our shows... one ah muh bat shit bar-b-q saush ads woulda been better than THAT hot mess...

Rex: Are you kidding?! I was waiting for the damned order number to appear! I NEED one of those things! I can't live another day without stuffing my face in the tub!!! >_<

BBQ: Stung is STILL ko'ed out dar in the middle ah the ring, an' bah gawd as muh witness, that man is DEAD!!!

Rex: Well, damn. There goes our main event.

BBQ: Is that all you care about?! You JERK!

Rex: Hey, it's in the job description. And besides, as someone once said, the show must go on! Especially when, if it doesn't, I don't get paid.

[Suddenly, static appears on the Not-The-Titan-Tron, and the lights begin to flash hot pink and lime green... "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper begins to play, and the bajillions of hungry fans are going CRAZY! Probably because the starvation is beginning to drive them mentally insane...]

Rex: It couldn't be...

BBQ: BUT IT IS!!! Chairman Jack Hoff thought he got rid of him fer good, but bah gawd, he's BACK! IT'S RAYNE! IT'S RAYNE! BAH GAWD, THE STORM HAS RETURNED!!!

Rex: Yeah, and so has my lunch. Seriously, I just threw up in my mouth... I thought that FAG was in hell!

BBQ: I thought Jack done gone an' sent him away tah Utah or somethin'?

Rex: Utah, Hell, what's the difference?

BBQ: An' speakin' ah fags, folks, it's not JUST raYne that's back in the good ol' WSE! He's brought along with him his pals, Big Daddy Queer and The Bad Gay... the Coming Outsiders!!! Yes folks, the Fag World Order is BACK!!!

Rex: Well I don't WANT them back!!! I hope Jack comes out here and gets the Glass Ceiling Gang... the members that aren't dead anyway... to send these three back to wherever the hell it was they were!

BBQ: raYne has led his buddies -

Rex: His BUTT buddies...

BBQ: - into the ring. The trio have all got microphones, and they seem to have something to say!

The Bad Gay: GAY YO!!! [canned cheers]

Big Daddy Queer: The Fag World Order is like, sooo totally IN... THE... HIZZY, fah sure!!!

raYne: Oh, my, god, Kevvy, Scotty! Look over THERE! I mean, gag me with a SPOON! Is that what I think it is?!

Gay: Survey says... it's a dead man. And he's... certainly not walking.

Queer: OHMYGAH!!! raYne!!! We're, like, WAAAY too cute to be this close to an icky, nasty, dead body!

raYne: Oh come on now girls, it's just a rotting corpse! He is SOOO not going to like, get up and walk toward us or anything, am I right babe?

Gay: Well...

Queer: I don't know...

raYne: Oh come ON! [raYne turns toward Gay and Queer] Ladies, we came back here to cause some mayhem! To start up some chaos! And we are NOT chicken! Although, according to the script, the main event WILL see the debut of a guy NAMED 'Chicken'... and I could sooo go for some flame broiled cock right now. ^_^

[As raYne speaks, Stung begins to stand...]

BBQ: OHBAHGYAWD!!! HE'S NOT DEAD!!!

Rex: Huh? Oh, sorry, I was checking out this Victoria's Secret catalogue again. Man, these chicks are HOT! I just wish they'd take off the underwear... I've never really understood why they even have it on. This is supposed to be a PORN magazine, not a book women read to order lingerie!

[Uhm... actually, Rex...]

Rex: What?

[... Nevermind.]

raYne: Kevvy? ... Scotty? ... What are you looking at? ... Oh no, do I have a zit? I can NOT have a zit! Not tonight!

[Both The Bad Gay and Big Daddy Queer begin to point behind raYne in an exaggeratedly shocked fashion... raYne slowly turns around... and comes face to face with Stung, who growls angrily and beats his chest, before laying in the knife edge chops to the "Fag in Charge". raYne backs up a few steps, but comes right back with a flying forearm, which brings Stung down to the mat. raYne springboards off the top rope, and comes splashing down with a running shooting star press. Of course, this brings in Stung's team mates, Wright Angle and Sucka T, who rush down to the ring, and instantly begin to battle with the Coming Outsiders. Fists are traded, kicks are landed, and chaos consumes the ring, before...]

Speakers: [to the tune of "No Chance"]
No pants! That's what I got!
I'm really not embarrased cuz I'm well endowed,
Gifted with a johnson 'bout as big as a milk cow.
Embarrased?! Nah.. I got no shame tah hide.
I'm naked from my waistline down to my feet...
But I wear a smile with pride, cuz I got -
NO PANTS... No pants at all, you know I got,
NO PANTS... No pants at all!!!

BBQ: That song can only mean one thing!

Rex: Somebody's running around with out any pants? Hopefully a chick?

BBQ: No, it means we're about tah be joined bah our esteemed Chairman, the man with ALLLLL the stroke around here,

Rex: And he strokes it every chance he gets...

BBQ: His ego?

Rex: Something else...

BBQ: ... Mr. Jack HOFF!

[Indeed, Jack walks through the curtains, holding a microphone, walking to the ring with a purpose. Jack makes it to the apron, and stares up at the six men that are brawling. He yells into the microphone...]

Jack: Excuse me!

[The battle continues...]

Jack: EXCUSE ME!!!

[And continues...]

Jack: Grrr, I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this.

[Jack pulls out a gun, points it above his head, and pulls the trigger...]

[BANG!!!]

[All six men immediately stop fighting, and turn a glance to the front of the ring, where Jack is now smiling. Jack rolls into the ring, and after a bit of a struggle, makes it to his feet. Still holding the micrpohone, he begins to speak to the six men staring back at him.]

Jack: Ahem... I'll address this little skirmish in a second, but before that, I have a couple of announcements to make. First of all, regarding tonight's triple threat between Nicky Mowse, John Semen, and the Big Ho... I have decided to add Redd W. Bloo and Goo the Adventurer to it to make it a five-way Championship Scramble match for Bloo's Only Secondary Title That Matters. 2 men will begin the match, and every five minutes another man will enter. Every time someone gets a pinfall, they take the title, and when the match has met the 25 minute mark, whoever is holding the title, will be declared the champ.

Jack: And the other piece of business concerns the UnderBaker vs Head Ache Kid match, which WAS scheduled to be the first ever Job-a-thon match. Well, due to the jobbers contracted to appear in this match having all died of aids -

Rex: We're just sinking deeper and deeper down the barrel...

Jack: I have decided to add a little more sizzle to the steak, and have transformed 'Baker vs HAK into the first EVER... Quadruple Cage Last Man Standing Match!!! [canned cheering]

BBQ: Listen tah that there crowd! They're lovin' the idea of that stipulation!

Rex: Boom Boom, that's just a damn recording! The REAL crowd can barely even MAKE a sound... I'm sure about half of them have DIED since this show started...

Jack: Yes, tonight promises to make history... and speaking of which. [turns to the six men in the ring] You guys want to fight? Well then, it's settled. I'm taking Those Guys OUT of this match... and I'm putting the fWo IN! raYne, I may hate you... I may DESPISE you... but dammit, these fans love you, and I need to kick this show off with a bang, so raYne... Stung... you two and your partners beat the holy living hell out of eachother, and give the fans what they want. Namely, someone DEAD! I'm sure one of you will deliever...

["No Pants" hits, and Jack leaves the ring, making his way up the ramp... but when he reaches the middle of the steel ramp, he turns around, and calls for the music to be cut.]

Jack: Oh, and by the way... the whole "put the entire other team through tables and then choose a member of your team to become champion" thing? No dice. I've decided to nix the tables match part, and simply make this a first to a fall match. The FIRST man to pin a member of the opposing team will walk away as the WSE Champion. And that's... FINAL~!!!

[As Jack turns back around and exits through the curtains, Stung can do nothing but stare back at his departing leader, and wonder why Jack would put him in such a precarious predicament... Jack is SUPPOSED to be the man behind the Glass Ceiling Gang, and Stung WAS his hand-picked champion... but now? Jack has left Stung with the unenviable task of defending his title in a six man tag where any member of the opposing team could pin EITHER of his partners, and walk away with HIS title... and not only that, but now his own two partners could very well strike out on their own, and pin an fWo member to, again, take HIS title.]

BBQ: What in the bah gawd HELL has gotten intah Jack Hoff?! He's seemingly left his chosen champ tah the wolves! Will Stung walk out of WrestleNymphoMania 69 as the World Champeen? Find out... NEXT!



[As we return from mid-paper-view commercial break, Stung and raYne are standing in the center of the ring, with the rest of the fWo and GCG standing in their respective corners on the apron.]

Rex: Wow... the World Title being defended in the OPENING CONTEST... on the biggest event of the year, in a SIX-MAN TAG match. Seriously, great booking there... Not.

BBQ: Stung and raYne are ah-circlin' eachother... they inch closer and closer... the bell sounds, an' the two men lock up!

Rex: Oh GROSS! There's his move... his disturbingly disgusting, HORRENDOUS move, the Kiss of Death!

BBQ: raYne ain't just lockin' UP with Stung, he's ah-lip lockin' the poor boy! It's the dad gum french kiss raYne uses as a submission hold, and he's ah-cinchin' that sucker in deep and hard!

Rex: YUCK! I do NOT need to see a guy "cinch in" a french kiss deep and hard on another dude... I think I'm about to throw up in my mouth again...

BBQ: OH BAH GAWD!!! Stung just punted raYne in his hail stones! raYne is grabbin' at his barbee-cue saush covered balls, and he's fallen to the mat!

Rex: YES! Now THAT's how you do it! Get him Wright! Get him Sucka! Tear him up! Rip him apart! KILL HIM! Send him to the hospital so he can keep Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga "company"!!! BWAHAHAHA!!!

BBQ: It's utter chaos in the ring now, folks! Both teams are all in the ring, and they're ah-tearin' eachother limb from limb! The Coming Outsiders roll to the outside of the ring fighting Wright and Sucka, and this leaves Stung in dar with raYne... Stung has the black bat! Stung's about to beat raYne senseless with that dall garn bat just like he did Rocky! Don't do it Stung! DAMMIT, DON'T DO IT!

[As Stung lifts the bat overhead, ready to bring down over raYne's sides, stomach, and head, "Loser" by Beck hits, and the canned cheering is at it again, as the co-leader of Those Guys runs through the curtains... headed to the ring like a bullet from a pistol.]

BBQ: BAH GAWD, CACTUS MANLOVE! He's not gonna let this heinous act go down, bah gawd! Cactus was scheduled tah square off with the GCG, with Team 2D as his partners, but Chairman Hoff took Cactus and the Mario Boyz out, and put the Fag World Order in. But bah gawd, Cactus ain't gonna let this har travesty take place!

Rex: I bet raYne is REAL familiar with "Man Love", if you know what I mean...

BBQ: Uh, Rex, as far as I can tell, this here's the first time raYne and Cactus have been in the same arena together?

Rex: ... You're not exactly the hottest piece of charcoal in the grill, huh Boom Boom?

BBQ: Well, I dunno 'bout all that, but as far as I'm is concerned, them lilly livered sidewinders in the Glass Ceilin' Gang is about tah git what's ah-comin' to 'em!!! Go Cactus! Show them scallywags what's fer!!!

Rex: Oh stop it with the verbal blowjob already, will ya?

BBQ: CACTUS IS A HOSS AH FAHR!!!

[Cactus slides into the ring... reaches into his sweat pants, and pulls out... Mr. Jocko! Yes, the jockstrap Cactus lovingly refers to as "Mr. Jocko", complete with a "face" scrawled across the front with a Sharpie marker. Cactus slips the jockstrap over his hand, and turns to Stung... before looking at raYne... and back at Stung. ... And then raYne. ... Stung... raYne again...]

Rex: DAMMIT STUNG! Blast him, already! As long as he's looking left and right like a retard at a cross walk, you have an open shot on the dork! KICK HIS ASS DAMN YOU!

BBQ: What in tarnations could Cactus be thinkin' here? ... Wait a DAMN minute! NO! THIS CAN'T BE!!!

Rex: HAHA YEAH!!!

[With raYne totally distracted by the seemingly distracted Cactus, Stung shoved raYne into Cactus... who dropped him with the Crotch in Mouth Disease, a modified Mandible Claw! The jockstrap to the mouth sends raYne crashing to the mat, and Cactus keeps the jockstrap in there long enough to cause raYne to pass out... either from the suffocation, or simply because the jockstrap smells like unwashed crotch. Cactus lifts up raYne and tosses him to Stung, who finishes off "The Storm" with Stung's patented "Scorpion Deathdropped" reverse ddt. Stung goes for the cover...]

BBQ: THIS COULD BE IT! DAMMIT, NOT THIS WAY! NOT THIS WAYYY!!!

Rex: YES this way! EXACTLY this way! ANY way possible, as long as it gets the job done! Hell, raYne could trip over his shoelaces and catch his face in a beartrap, and I'd still say PIN HIS ASS! ... Well, not his ass. Because I'm sure that'd do nothing more than arouse that sick FREAK...

BBQ: Stung picks up the one... two... THREE. DAMMIT! Why Cactus, WHY! Why on God's green earth did Cactus ManLove turn on the fans, the young upstarts in this fair company, and the CHILDREN?! WON'T SOMEBODY PLEASE THINK AH THE BAH GAWD CHILDREN?!?!

Rex: I don't care WHY he did it, I'm just glad he DID! The former leader of Those Guys is now the man in charge of The Glass Ceiling Gang, and dammit, I'm LOVIN' it!

|ad for McDonald's|

[We're back, and Rex is chomping on a Big Mac.]

Rex: Mmm... Gotta love product placement.

BBQ: Folks... Stung, Wright, Sucka, and Cactus are all teamin' up on poor ol' raYne, and the Coming Outsiders have been bloodied on the arena floor! The fWo is in DIRE straits!

Rex: Hey, I loved that band! "Money for nothin and your chicks for free!" WOOHOO! Chicks! Let's get the Nitrous Oxide Girls out here!

BBQ: ... T'was "checks", Rex.

Rex: My version's better...

Speakers: IF YA SMEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLL... what Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga... just pooted.

BBQ: BAH GAWD!!!

Rex: Oh lord... Not HIM!!! I thought Stung said he was DEAD, dammit!!!

BBQ: He's ah-comin', lightnin' pace down the ramp, regardless of the bandages and casts and pie fillin' that covers his injured body!

Rex: CRAP! He's already in the ring! This is impossible! This is... this is... ... OH MY GOD!!! OH HELLS YEAH!!!

BBQ: OH DEAR GAWD NO!!!

Rex: Not-The-Rock-Bottom to Big Daddy Queer! Not-The-Rock-Bottom to The Bad Gay! And one more for that FREAK, raYne! YES! Rocky has finally wisened up, and joined the WINNING team! The entire fWo is knocked out like a flamingly homosexual light! THANK YOU ROCKY!!! And thank you CACTUS, for probably being the guy to show Rocky just how futile that whole "young guy revolution" cause was!!! With Stung, Rocky, and Cactus leading the Glass Ceiling Gang, I'll tell you right now, there's absolutely NOTHING stopping these guys from -

BBQ: Wait a dad blasted minute! Stung, Wright, Sucka and Cactus is all lookin' at Rocky! Rex, I'm not so sure these guys is behind Rocky's actions!

Rex: Oh come on...

BBQ: I wouldn't count all muh chickens fer they hatched, I'mma tell ya that right now! Cuz the GCG is closin' in on good ol' Rocky... but he ain't ah-backin' down! Stung leads up the gang, gettin' right in the Bahama Bull's face... Rocky simply motions fer Stung tah "Bring It"... Stung raises his bat, and...

Rex: WHAT THE HELL?!

[As soon as Stung lifts up the bat, Wright rips it from his hands. Stung turns around, and begins to yell at Wright, questioning him... when Sucka T lands a clubbing blow to the back of Stung's skull, sending him stumbling forward. Stung reels right into the waiting grasp of Wright, who lands the Special Olympic Slam! Stung splatters against the canvas, and both Wright AND Sucka are laughing like a couple of wild hyenas...]

Rex: ... Now I'm confused.

BBQ: Dammit, I don't know who tah be fer anymore! Is Stung the bad guy? Is Wright or Sucka? What about Rocky and Cactus? WHO'S THE BAD GUY HERE?!

Rex: All I DO know is that Cactus, Wright, and Sucka are all holding Stung on the mat, preventing him from moving an inch... Rocky removes his elbow pad, tosses it into the fans, and the fans... eat it. God DAMN they're starving...

[Rocky waves his arms back and forth, before bouncing off one set of ropes... the other... the other... and the last set, before taking out his cell phone, calling his agent, signing a movie contract, a few autographs, and finally, dropping the index finger to the chest!]

Rex: ... All that for a friggin' FINGER?! And SOMEHOW that single, solitary finger causes Stung to shake violently... yup. This is more fake than 95% of Michael Jackson's face...

[Cactus grabs a microphone, and begins to speak, looking down at Stung.]

Cactus: Stung... I hate to break it to you this way... Wait... actually, this is an AWESOME way to break the news to you! You know how on Nitro, Wright said there would be a hit tonight? Well... the Glass Ceiling Gang ALWAYS fulfills its pomises. We may not have killed you... but I'm about to do the next best thing. Your career is officially dead Stung... YOU'RE FIRED! Not just "suspended indefinately" but FIRED! You're old news, Stunger. It's time for the People to look up to a NEW Champion... and that's why I used you in that tag match, to keep the belt in the GCG camp. And now, I'm officially declaring this man... [looks toward Rocky] ... THIS man, as the NEW WSE Champion!

[Rocky takes the microphone, and cocks his head back slightly...]

Rocky: FINALLY... ... ...

[Rocky lowers his head, and looks out at the "fans"... those that haven't died of starvation.]

Rocky: Actually, no, no, no, forget Rocky even MENTIONED that tired old catchphrase. You see... it's time that things were shaken up a bit around here! It's time Rocky took the adoration... the love and support of the bajillions... and BAJILLIONS of Rocky fans...

...

Rocky: Turned all that love and support sideways, and shoved it up each and every last ONE of your redneck ASSES!

Rex: Well, technically, they're African, not Redneck, but he's on a roll, so I'll be quiet...

Rocky: For months... and months... and MONTHS, World Sports Entertainment has dredged along at the bottom of the gutter, happy to be the LAUGHINGSTOCK of this business! Well, allow Rocky to set the record... straight. No LONGER will the Glass Ceiling Gang be a part of that joke. No LONGER will men like Wright Angle, Sucka T, Cactus ManLove, and Rocky follow the trends of these other losers, these... curtain jerkers... who do nothing but try desperately to make you schmucks laugh... no longer. No longer will the Glass Ceiling Gang allow themselves to be another run of the mill stable... and no longer will we allow WSE to be just another run of the mill sports entertainment company! Because FINALLY -

BBQ: I thought he said he wasn't going to use that line anymore?

Rex: SHHH!

Rocky: Finally... Rocky is no longer "Rocky". For from now on... you are looking at the "Samoan Movie Machine"... the Critic's Choice... HOLLYROCK!!! And the HollyRock says, starting tonight, a lot of things are going to be different around here. The Glass Ceiling Gang is at the top of the food chain... with the HollyRock being the shark... the lion... and the T-Rex, all rolled up into one sexy package! And with HollyRock leading the way, and Cactus ManLove pulling the corporate suits' strings in our favor, the GCG will be unstoppable! The HollyRock thought coming into this company that it was all about pleasing the "People"... well, when it all comes down to it, the "People" don't mean jack SHIT! All that matters to HollyRock, and all that matters to the GCG, is the ability to gain as much championship gold... as much cash... and as much POWER as possible.

H.Rock: And as long as the HollyRock has THIS [holds the WSE title into the air] and as long as Cactus is the big boss man in charge? Well... the HollyRock says that everything else will just fall into place.

H.Rock: Soon... World Sports Entertainment will be at the very TOP of the professional wrestling totem pole. And it will be ALL thanks to the Glass Ceiling Gang...

["Epic" hits, and HollyRock takes to the top turnbuckle, raising the WSE title into the air. Wright and Sucka toss Stung over the top rope to the outside, and Cactus picks his nose. ...]

Rex: Hooray for HollyRock!!!

BBQ: We'll be right back folks, after THIS...



[We return to the arena, and more specifically, the commentary table, where Rex is grabbing an issue of PentHouse out from underneath the desk...]

Rex: Well, I'm off to the bathroom to jack off.

Jack Hoff: Huh?

Rex: ... Not you boss.

Jack Hoff: Oh... well, keep up the good work... uh, what's your name again?

Rex: ... Rex? Rex RUSSO? Your color commentator?

Jack: Ah... never heard of ya. Anyway, seeya later Boom Boom!

BBQ: Later boss!

Rex: ... ANYWAY... I've got this brand new, April issue of PentHouse, and it's got this great cover of two nasty lesbians about to GET IT ON! I haven't even gotten it out of the shrink wrap yet! I'm PUMPED!

BBQ: That's nice. Or gross. I forget which.

Rex: [leaves, giddy with porn induced excitement]

BBQ: Alrighty folks, I'm now being joined by Rex's replacement, he is da bah gawlly commentator fer Egg Fried Noodles over on the Trinidad and Tabago Network, he's a mainstay in the wrasslin' business... it's good ol' Toey Jiles!

JT: That's Joey Tiles, Boom Boom.

BBQ: Whatever.

Howard Fecal: The following contest is a Falls Don’t Count Anywhere Match to unify the Mondo and For The Win Titles!

[“Strictly Hip Hop” by Cypress Hill hits. Millions of dollars worth of orange pyro goes off and half of the eleventy bajillion strong audience goes deaf.]

Fecal: Introducing first, he is the human suplex robot and the For The Win Champion… Tax!

JT: Tax is trained in judo, savate, hula hooping, quantum physics, smoking crystal meth and brick laying. He was even contracted to do the yellow brick road in Oz.

[Suddenly, “Carmina Burana” starts playing, and the Not-The-Titan-Tron fills with flashing images... Images of hyenas tearing into the flesh of gazelles, people getting run over, paper cuts, chainsaw accidents and other disturbing imagery pound like a terrible drum set to the beat of hell itself.]

BBQ: Oh bah gawd!

[Captions appear between more disturbing imagery.]

Caption: I’m coming.

Caption: The devil went down to Georgia.

Caption: Life is like a box of chocolates.

Caption: Six of one and half a dozen of the other.

BBQ: That’s gotta be Sid! It HAS to be! Sid, the big crimson machine! He’s here!

[The last caption appears.]

Caption: My path is chosen.

[“China White” by The Scorpions hits.]

Fecal: And his opponent, the Mondo Champion… Sid Viscous!

BBQ: IT’S SID! IT IS SID! BY GAWD! THE BIG ROIDED UP PSYCHOPATH IS HERE! SID IS HERE! IN THE FLESH!!

[Sid climbs into the ring and knocks Tax down with a big right hand.]

BBQ: WHAT A RIGHT HAND!

[Tax catches a steel chair thrown by a fan and smacks it into Sid’s head.]

BBQ: And a deep fried chairshot!

[Sid just looks at Tax with psychotically nystagmic eyes.]

BBQ: Ohh my gawd. The chairshot to the skull… it didn’t hurt Sid one bit!

[Sid chokeslams Tax.]

BBQ: AMERICAN CHOKESLAM! SEND HIM TO HELL! SEND HIM TO HELL!!

[Tax rolls out of the ring and Sid follows after him.]

JT: Well, this match has spilled to the outside and the referee starts the count.

Ref: 1!

JT: Sid and Tax trading punches that nearly decapitate one another. Sid knocks Tax back into the steel guardrail before setting up a table. Oh my gyad, powerbomb through the table!

BBQ: That ain’t how you do it boy, it’s like… HELLACIOUS POWERBOMB PEPPERED WITH PAPRIKA THROUGH THE REDWOOD TABLE!

JT: It’s hard to keep your eye off this action. Tax made contact with that table and shattered it into splinters, nearly obliterating his spine going through. Sid, not the brightest bulb in the meth lab, goes for the cover. The ref tells him that it doesn’t count.

BBQ: He’s cooking with gas though! Gas risen from the tar soaked graves of a billion dinosaurs who jobbed to a meteor 2010 years ago.

JT: I think it was longer ago than that.

BBQ: Jesus Christ bah gawd it wasn’t so sayeth the bible! Sid Viscous with a leatherbound headbutt from HELL knocks Tax into the next millennia and the front row over the guardrail! The fans STAB Sid with AIDs soaked, barbedwire wrapped switchblades but he DOESN’T EVEN REACT~!

JT: He’s so hardcorely gay that being stabbed with AIDs and barbedwire makes this no different from a usual Friday night for him.

BBQ: Nowhere, Oklahoma, USA, North America, of Earth is WRESTLENYMPHOMANIA 69 town! Why would you want to get it on with a girl, a guy, a tranny or a horse when you could be watching this HARDCORE ACTION#!!!!?? By gawd almighty spasmatic on crack overdoses!

JT: It just gets more and more demented as time goes by. Nobody cares, but at least Boom Boom will be warm tonight with the amount of urine he’s expelling in his tighty whiteys.

BBQ: By gawd it’s elephant piss city as Sid body slams Tax headfirst into the titanium ring steps! He killed him!!

JT: Tax no-sells as Sid has his back to him, screaming at the fans like a howler monkey being booed. Tax sets up a table. Then another one on top of that. Wraps them together with barbedwire, sets the whole thing on fire, spits on it, pisses on it, throws a few fans on for kindling, then walks up behind Sid and…

BBQ: T-BONE STEAK COOKED UNDER THE GRILL IN GOOSEFAT TAXPLEX THROUGH THE FLAMING BARBEDWIRE TABLES!!!!1

JT: Sid no-sells and starts wandering up the entrance ramp.

BBQ: My balls are tingling from the excitement!

JT: Tax steals a fan’s backpack, that just so happens to be magical, and shoves tables, chairs, ladders, barbedwire, kendo sticks and other assorted weaponry inside. He puts the backpack on before following after Sid.

BBQ: By gawd the raw POWER of Tax carrying that magical weightless bag.

JT: Well, we have more fans in the audience than the total amount of the earth’s population, so I guess it makes sense at least ONE of the fans would have a magical bag.

BBQ: Sweet Christ almighty up a juniper tree, nothing makes sense about that statement!

JT: Sid and Tax now brawling up the entrance ramp. They head out through the velvet curtain to the backstage area.

Ref: 2!

JT: Sid with a hard right hand knocks Tax on his ass. He lifts him back up and slams his head into a brick wall. Tax stumbles away on impact and Sid charges at him, spearing him into a vending machine!

BBQ: It’s an avalanche of pop cans!

JT: Sid starts choking Tax with a length of cable but Tax cuts it with a pair of scissors. He tries to jam the scissors into Sid’s eyes but he blocks it three stooges style. Tax closes the scissors and chops off Sid’s fingers!

BBQ: His greatest asset! His fingers!

JT: Sid knocks Tax out cold with his other hand before pulling out a needle and thread from his back pocket and sews his fingers back on. He then puts Tax in a headlock and drags him down the corridor.

BBQ: Where the hell are they going?! The ring is the other way!

Ref: 3!

JT: Sid throws Tax through some double doors. The match has spilled out of the arena itself! Tax crawls on hands and knees across the concrete floor towards the parking lot as Sid just takes his time striding after him. Tax removes his backpack and pulls a steel chair out of it.

BBQ: Demonic chairshot right to the bridge of the nose! He may have broken his damn nose in half!

[Blood and boogies dribble down his face.]

JT: Sid looks pissed and lifts Tax up into a gorilla press… carries him across the parking lot and slams him down hard onto the hood of a car!

BBQ: Hey! That’s my car dag nammit!

JT: Sid opens one of the car doors and throws Tax inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He then picks the car up over his head and crushes it into a ball with his bare hands.

BBQ: MY CAR! Damn, well, he just KILLED Tax!

JT: Sid drops the car on the concrete and starts unfolding it back into shape. The twisted doors fall off their hinges and Tax falls out a bloody mess.

BBQ: That was HELLACIOUS!

JT: Sid carries Tax on his shoulders across the street. He rams his head into a phone box, still holding him on his shoulders. He then throws him through the window of an Italian restaurant. The diners inside scream, leave their seats and run out of the building. Sid climbs in through the hole where the window used to be and starts dropping loads of plates of spaghetti on Tax’s head!

BBQ: He's wearin' the marinara mask!

JT: The head chef walks out and starts sassing Sid with stereotypes until he powerbombs him through a table. Sid drags Tax into the kitchen and starts slamming his head into the fridge. He opens the door, puts Tax inside the fridge and closes it shut.

BBQ: By gawd the smell of ragu and parsley must be absolutely DISGUSTING inside that sick son of a bitch Italian’s fridge.

Ref: 4!

JT: Tax falls out of the fridge, indeed covered in ragu sauce and egg yolk. Sid throws him onto a hotplate and burns his skin. Tax rolls around on the floor, screaming and sizzling in pain. Sid pushes an intervening chef out of the way and throws Tax THROUGH the kitchen’s wall! They’re out in a back alley now, and Sid dumps the contents of a trashcan on top of Tax.

BBQ: They’re fighting all over town! This is a STREETFIGHT!

JT: Sid hooks his fingers into the concrete and lifts the entire path of the alleyway up and hits Tax over the head with it! Tax stumbles groggily away into a main street where cars are driving past WELL over the speed limit. He gets ran over by a bus.

BBQ: THEY KILLED HIM!

Ref: 5!

JT: Sid starts stacking homeless people up on top of each other. He waddles over to Tax and pulls a ladder out of his magical backpack. Sets the ladder up, carries Tax by the scruff his neck up the ladder… and…

BBQ: BY GAWD ALMIGHTY IS MY WITNESS, HOW DO YOU LEARN TO POWERBOMB TAX OFF A LADDER THROUGH HALF A DOZEN STACKED HOBOS?!

JT: This match is getting silly.

BBQ: Getting?! GETTING?! Through hellfire and limestone, it’s the silliest of them all!

JT: Sid climbs down the ladder gingerly and starts dragging Tax up the street in a headlock again. They reach a set of steel gates. Sid kicks them open with his boot and they walk into the Space Program Facility. Sid and Tax brawl up to a rocket and climb inside. For some reason a countdown begins. From 10 to lift off, and the rocket flies up into the air!

BBQ: By gawd!

[Footage of the rocket flying up through the clouds and out of the earth’s atmosphere is shown before cutting to the interior of the rocket.]

BBQ: Sid and Tax are brawling in zero gravity for fuck’s sake! Flying clothesline knocks Tax down… his mangled corpse his FLOATING~!

[More rocket footage. It finally crashes into the moon.]

Ref: 6!

JT: Sid and Tax exit the rocket ship and start brawling around on the moon’s surface. Tax with suplexes Sid into a crater before going to his bag of tricks. He sets up four ladders in a square, wraps them in barbedwire, stacks three tables on top of one another, wraps THEM in barbedwire, sets the whole thing on fire, pisses on it, vomits on it, blows his nose on it, throws steel chairs at it, before dragging Sid up one of the ladders. He lays a couple of tables out on the top of the ladders to make a walkway across the burning tables, drags Sid to the middle, lifts him up for suplex, jumps into the air taking advantage of the moon’s gravity and brings Sid down through the whole flaming mess!

BBQ: THIS MATCH IS RETARDED BY GAWD!

JT: Tax drags Sid back into the rocket and they take off again. They fly to the outer regions of the solar system before engaging the warp drive.

[Footage of psychedelic wormhole colors is shown.]

JT: They finally come to a stop next to the spaceship from the movie Event Horizon. They board the ship through the airlock and start brawling around the poop deck.

BBQ: BY GAWD THE POOP DECK!

JT: Tax chops Sid down before engaging the dimensional gateway machine. He then spears Sid through it.

[More wormhole footage.]

Ref: 7!

BBQ: By gawd they’re in the hell dimension! THEY’RE IN A DIMENSION GOVERNED BY THE RULES OF PURE EVIL!

JT: Tax dragon taxplexes Sid into the whirling metal chainsaw teeth of a Godzilla looking demon. Sid falls all the way down into the beasts gut and Tax jumps in after him and lands an elbow drop! The demon vomits them back out and they go flying right back through the dimensional portal!

BBQ: Demonic vomit drenched in liquor and barbecue sauce!

JT: They leave the Event Horizon, get back on their ship, and travel back faster than the speed of light to our solar system… I presume they want to get back to the ring before the 10 count.

BBQ: The match is all for nothing if they don’t!

JT: The ship lands back on the moon and Sid bodyslams Tax onto it’s surface. He lifts Tax up, looks at the planet earth way off in the distance, and powerbombs him with such force and velocity that he goes flying through space.

[Footage of Tax falling back to earth. He goes through the ozone layer, hurtles down through the sky and comes crashing down through the roof of the arena and falls through a table.]

BBQ: Tax is back in the arena!

[Meanwhile, back on the moon.]

JT: Sid makes his way to the dark side of the moon, pushes himself up in the air, springboards off the moons peak, and…

BBQ: PLANET TO PLANET DROPKICK!!!!!!!!!! THAT ONE HAD SOME BARBECUE SAUCE ON IT!

Ref: 8!

JT: Both men are laying on the floor in a big heap of splintered wood, blood and broken bones. They both stand up and start brawling around.

Ref: 9!

BBQ: Time’s running out!

JT: Sid wallops Tax with a right hand and drags him to ring side. He tries to throw him in through the ropes but Tax blocks it and locks Sid in a Katahajime!

Ref: 10!

Ringo: Ladies and gentlemen, as a result of a double count-out this match has ended in a no contest. Both competitors retain their respective titles!

BBQ: NO!!! NO!!! SAY IT AIN'T SO!!! BAH GAWD, I'MMA 'BOUT TAH HAVE A BAH GAWD HEART ATTACK!!!

[Boom Boom keels over, and is picked up on a stretcher by a team of EMTs. As Boom Boom is wheeled away, Tax walks over to the table... and sits down. Before pulling on Boom Boom's headset...]

Tax: Yam bags, Joey Tiles, YAM BAGS!

JT: You're right Tax, you indeed nearly defeated Sid in that match.

Tax: YAM BAGS!

JT: Certainly, we'll probably make a better broadcast team than Rex Russo and Boom Boom Quaker EVER did! So, let's get on with the next match sports fans, and head right back into the action!

Howard Fecal: The following contest is a three on one HANDICAP match! And trust me, it's the THREE that are handicapped, NOT the one... because, introducing first, already in the ring, they are three of the most jobbering jobberly jobberest jobbing jobbers in the whole jobberly jobbing jobbery jobbing world of jobbers who job and are jobbers and job to people and they SUCK! Lil' Fucker, the midget... R-Kwik, the black rapper that can't rap to save his life... and Afro Wig Cool, the... afro wig. And in their corner, on the outside, where he can only give "support", and so TOTALLY not try and interfere only to have his ass handed to him like the rest of these shmucks... SPAM!!!

Tax: Not fah nothin' Joey Tiles, but these guys suck some ass.

JT: OH MY GOD! ... I mean, yes. Yes they do.

Howard Fecal: And their opponent...

[Suddenly, the lights cut out... the Not-The-Titan-Tron begins to fill with random, changing, lime green numbers... Distorted voices are heard over the speakers, and a hush falls over the audience... maybe they've all died by now, who knows. After a few moments pass, the lime green numbers begin to slowly fade away, until only three numbers are left :



[Let's see, there's an eleven, a twenty-five, and a... j. ... That's a number, right?]

Rex: No.

[... DAMN!]

Spam: Hey! You stole the only word I can say! ... Well, I can also say these two sentences. ... And the word 'Hey'. And that sentence. And that sentence. And that sentence. And -

(I guess that pretty much gives it away... 11=K, 25=Y, and J= ... uh... ... J. Yep, that's the ticket...)

Fecal: He hails from Lube Town, USA, and is NOT a jobber, so therefore, here is the guy that's about to win this squash match... Kris Y. Jeriko... K... Y... J!

(A HUGE explosion rocks the stage, and the speakers begin to play "Vasoline" by the Stone Temple Pilots. Kris Y. Jeriko walks through the curtains, with his long blonde hair flowing in the air. He wears no shirt, black boots, and a pair of tight black spandex pants, with the letters "KYJ" printed down the sides in yellow. KYJ spits on a tiny black boy on the verge of death. ... Damn, he really knows how to play the heel, eh?)

KYJ: Hey, I'm just trying to keep him from dying of heat exhaustion! I'm a SAVIOR!

(Yeah... sure thing, Christ Jericho.)

Tiles: Kris enters the ring, and as soon as he does so, the bell is rung and this match is underway. R-Kwik runs toward Jeriko... but is back body dropped over the top rope, to the outside, and OH MY GOD! R-Kwik lands right ontop of SPAM!, and the two men topple to the floor! Meanwhile, in the ring, Jeriko grabs Afro Wig Cool, and stuffs him deep down the throat of the poor little bastard, Lil' Fucker! OH MY GYAAAAD, Lil' Fucker has suffocated to death! And right before he gasped his last breath, he SWALLOWED Afro Wig Cool, so poor Cool is gone as well! But here comes R-Kwik... and there GOES R-Kwik, with Jeriko tossing him over the other side of the ropes as soon as Kwik gets in. Jeriko gloats and basks in his "accomplishment"... when he receives a tap on the shoulder. Jeriko turns... IT'S SPAM!!!

Tax: YAM! ... Bags.

Tiles: Spam goes for the Dominatrix Buster, but Jeriko flips around in mid-air, floats over behind Spam, and brings him CRASHING down on Jeriko's knees with the Choad Breaker!!! SPAM! rolls to the outside, Jeriko stands back up, and is instantly blindsided by an attack from R-Kwik... but Kris simply shrugs this off, and hits a powerbomb on the crap rapper... before following it up with a SECOND powerbomb, holding for a pin... and getting it!

Fecal: Your winner of this boring, yet thankfully short "match", Kris... Y... JERIKOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Tiles: What an amazing match! What do you think, Tax?

Tax: Not fah nothin', Joey, but that was the shittiest shit I seen since I took a shit.

Tiles: ...

[Rex walks up to the desk, holding the April issue of Penthouse. He arrives at the table, and shreds the magazine up, before throwing the pieces to the floor.]

Rex: Man, I KNEW there had to be a gag in there... and it turns out it was the ENTIRE MAGAZINE! That wasn't a lesbian issue! It was a whole issue devoted to GAY DUDES! For pete's sake, there was nothing but schlong on schlong misery in that thing! ... Wait, what the hell are YOU to doing here?

Tiles: OH MY GOD!!! ... I mean, we're replacements. While you and Boom Boom are away...

Rex: Well, I'M not away! So Tiles, get your ass OUTTA MY SEAT!!!

Tiles: Well, er, uhm, ah...

[Rex yanks Joey out of the chair, and tosses him into the sea of Africans, where he's quickly devoured, bones and all. Rex sits down, and places his headset back on.]

Rex: I hope this thing doesn't have any of that nerd's geek germs...

Tax: Not fah nothin', but... I QUIT!!!

Rex: You want a lift?

Tax: Huh?

[Rex "accidentally" tilts Tax's chair backwards, until he falls into the audience, where he too is eaten alive...]

Rex: Heheh, whoopsie! Aw well, I'm sure I can do this all on my own!

[Suddenly, "Boomer Sooner" plays, and Boom Boom Quaker walks down to the desk, re-joining his partner.]

Rex: DAMMIT! I thought you were injured?!

BBQ: Ain't no silly ol' heart attack gonna keep good ol' Boom Boom Quaker from callin' the biggest dad gum speck-tee-kull ah the year, bah gawd! Especially not when muh good ol' pal's match is up next! There ain't a DAMN thing gonna keep me from watchin' this!

Rex: Maybe a bazooka...

BBQ: What's that?

Rex: On with the show!

Howard Fecal: Already in the ring, the loser of the match, yet another jobber, Sanity... No... MARELLA! And in his corner, a tranvestite named Man Woman! This will be a "Hide Behind Man Woman" match, where the objective for Marella is to hide behind the tranny before he gets his ass handed to him! And his opponent, weighing in at something, standing at something else, he hails from Hicksville, Tennessee, he IS the Tennessee Garter Snake... ladies and gentlemen, he is the Hall of Shamer himself, please give it up for none other than the Technologic Redneck... the one, the ONLY... "Drunk Ass" Austinnnn STEVEEEENNNNSSSS!!!!

[The speaker fills with the sound of shattered glass, before "Sweet Home Alabama" by Lynyrd Skynyrd hits, and the pre-recorded audience is cheering like mad!]

BBQ: DRUNK ASS! DRUNK ASS! THANK GAWD ALMIGHTY, IT'S DRUNK ASS!!!

[Drunk Ass stomps down the ramp... rolls into the ring... the bell rings... Drunk Ass hits the Drop, and goes for the pin... 1, 2, 3.]

BBQ: Yes siree bob, THAT'S how ya write an e-fed wrasslin' match, short sweet, and to the bag hawd point!!!

Rex: ... What kinda match was THAT? That was almost as bad as the Rey Mysterio, JBL match at Wrestlemania 25. ... ALMOST.

[Drunk Ass grabs about three or four beers, and chugs all of them down in a matter of seconds, before asking for a microphone.]

Drunk Ass: This here's just the BEGINNING! Well... actually, that terrorist scum Bore Rat or whatever his name was was the beginning, but this here was the SECOND part of the beginning! And on the second eppy-sode ah Nitro, it's gonna continue! I'mma challengin' ANYONE, and EVERYONE, to come after me for muh Applecore title! I'll give each and every one ah yah smarmy mouth bastards the whole damn show tah come after me an' muh belt, and if any yuz can pin me by the end of the night, you can TAKE this here belt, and move yer way up that milli vanilli mouthed ladder ah success! An' THAT's the fine wine, cuz Drunk Ass is drunk off his ass!

Rex: Wait... so the challenge is basically that anyone can take the Applecore title from Stevens at any time? ... I thought that was pretty much the POINT of the Applecore belt?

BBQ: ... ADS!

Rex: Huh?

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BBQ: BAH GAWD folks, and we're back!

Rex: Unfortunately.

BBQ: I hope yall enjoyed the first half ah this, the bah frawg most important salisbury steak flavored wrasslin' event EVER!

Rex: Besides every other event in the existence of sports entertainment...

BBQ: If yall loved that first half, then BAH GAWD~!!!1a, yer gunna LOVE this next match!

Rex: Wow, how redundant.

BBQ: You callin' me a retard?

Rex: ... No, REDUNDANT, not retarded.

BBQ: ... Quit the fancy talk, boy!

Rex: Maybe I SHOULD have said "retarded"...

BBQ: Up next, we gots the first EVER "Let's Rob a Bank" match, where the rules is simple ; A member of the WSE crew will hold everyone inside the First National Bank of Nowhere hostage... The staff member will wrap them all up in a giant bag, lock the bag in the bank's vault, and then all ten combatants will enter the bank, and be challenged to search for the combination to the vault. Once they FIND it, they'll have to use the combination to open the safe, before unwrapping the sack, freeing everyone inside. The winner will be the first guy to force the hostages to form a human ladder to a mini-vault suspended from the ceiling, which, once grabbed, will represent a future title shot at the WSE championship belt!

Rex: Thank GOD for cut and paste...

BBQ: DON'T TAKE THE LORD THY DRUNK ASS AUSTIN STEVEN'S NAME IN VAIN!!! Bah gawd.

Rex: ... Annnyway, due to Redd W. Bloo and Goo the Adventurer being placed in the Championship Scramble for the Only Secondary Title That Matters, this match is now an EIGHT man match. The line up has also been changed a bit, with the competitors now including ; SuperGuyManDudePerson, Jippy Jam the Japanese Jughead, the Brown Ranger, Viruz, Mr. E, Zorlax Firling, Kruzifix, and "Secret Agent" Double-Oh Zero. And instead of only rewarding the winner with a shot at the WSE Title, the man who can grab the mini-vault will be able to choose ANY championship to fight for at ANY time, whether that championship be on Nitro OR the Eggstream brand! All eight combatants are headed toward the bank at this time, and the WSE crew has arrived on the scene, ready to take hostages and begin this contest! Let's send it to the action!

[The camera opens to the outside of the First National Bank of Nowhere, where three or four fat, sweaty men in black "Security" shirts are heading inside... all three or four of them carrying tommy guns.]

[As the lead fat and sweaty man in a black "Security" shirt walks in, the bank customers immediately spot the gun, and cower down upon the floor... everyone except the man at the front counter. The WSE "Security" dude walks toward this guy, and points the tommy directly at the man's face. Two other fat, sweaty men in black "Security" shirts stand on either side of the head honcho. The fourth, or perhaps fifth, fat and sweat man in a black "Security" shirt stands guard at the front door...]

Sal E. : So, yooz wanna make a point, eh mistah tough guy ova hee-yah? Jess, Raphael, whatchooz guys thinks I oughta do with this punk?

Jesse: SHOOT 'IM BOSS!

Raphael: Yeah, yeah, shoot 'im in the HEAD!

Jesse: Then kick him in the meatballs!

Raphael: Yeah, yeah, KICK 'IM!!!

Sal E. : Welp, ya hoid 'em tough guy, they says I should shoot ya. In the head. Then? I oughta kick yooz in the meatballs fah good measure. So, that's EXACTLY what I'mm-ah gonna do! Any last words, bustah?

Mat Bore: Everybody gay! We has good times for the being of hostage has! Only could the brother of mine, Rat, be here of today to see this!

Sal E. : ... Huh?

[Suddenly, the door swings open, and in steps... RAT BORE?! Wearing an UGLY neon swimsuit, and a pair of blue scuba flippers...]

Rex: Oh MAN! First raYne comes back from the dead, then YOU, Boom Boom, and now HIM?!

BBQ: Thank gawd he's alive! Ain't ya happy, Rexxy boy?

Rex: Uhm... no. Not really. ... DAMMIT!

[Rat walks toward Sal, who is staring at this intruder. Rat smiles.]

Rat Bore: Heya every-bodaaayyy! Just would like to being saying that I, Rat Bore, not being so dead much after the all!!!

Sal E. : ... Are yooz two brothas ah sumtin'? ... IT DON'T MATTAH! I'm blastin' ONE ah yooz guys, no mattah what!

Rat Bore: Do not be shot Rat! Shot Mat!

Sal E. : I haven't SHOT anybodies yet, capice? I'm GONNA shoot yooz in the head if yuz don't get down, on the ground, NOW!

Rat Bore: Okie doke!

[Rat does so.]

Sal E. : Sheesh, I didn't think this part of the match was gonna take THIS long... [turns to Mat Bore] Ok, yooz knucklehead! I'm gonna try this one last time, capice pisano?! [points the gun at Mat] Yooz eitha' get down, ON the ground, ah I'm gonna hafta fill ya full-ah led, ya got me?

Mat: ... Everybody gay!

Sal E. : NOBODY CALLS SAL E. GAY!!!

Jesse : OR JESSE!

Raphael: OR... uh... WHATEVAH MY NAME IS... cuz I fuggoddaboutit. ...

Sal E. : BLAST 'IM BOYS!!!

Jesse & Raphael : YOU GOT IT BOSS!

Sal E. : And yooz ABOUT tah get it, yooz... TOUGH GUY!

[Just as Sal E., Jesse, and Raphael are about to fire at Mat, Rat jumps on Sal E.'s wide, lard encrusted back, and begins to BITE him in the neck! Sal E. tries to swat the former WSE ring announcer away, but Rat just won't be shaken off...]

BBQ: I just got word from the back that, startin' tah-night, Rat Bore will be an ACTIVE WRASSLER! An' his first match is right now, versus them three securi-tah fellers!

[Sal E. and the boys somehow hear Boom Boom give this announcement, and so Sal E. snapmares Rat off his back. The three big, burly men then begin to pound Rat like cake. Sal E. picks up Rat, and slams him on top of the counter, before grabbing Rat's brother Mat, laying him on top of his bro, and then Sal E. yells at the hostages to form the human ladder. After about a half an hour's work, ten of the hostages have come into position, and Sal E. tells the least fat of the three security dudes, Jesse, to squash Rat and Mat. How they haven't gotten off the counter after thirty minutes, I'll never know...]

BBQ: There goes Jesse, just ah-runnin' up them guys, singin' doo-wah diddy, diddy dum, diddy doo!

Rex: He looks fat!

BBQ: He looks fat!

Rex: He looks dumb!

BBQ: He looks dumb!

Rex: He looks fat, he looks dumb, and he has an extra thumb!

BBQ: ... The hell was that? Bah gawd.

Rex: Random breaking out into song. Anyway... Jesse flies off the ladder of people as well as a fat lard ass can, and SQUASHES both Mat AND Rat Bore! AND the bank's counter!!!

BBQ: BAH LAWGZ!!! As Gawd as muh witness, that counter is broken in HALF~!!!

Rex: All three fat f*cks pile onto the Bore twins, and get the three count in this impromptou match-up! Damn man, now THAT'S a squash! ... Get it? Squash? They jumped on them and... Forget it.

BBQ: Well folks, now that EVERYONE's down on the ground... includin' dem foreigners...

Rex: ESPECIALLY them. They're closer to the ground than anyone thanks to the ten tons of blubber laying on top of them.

BBQ: Regardless, everyone in the bank is ready tah be held hostage by Sal E. and the WSE Securi-tah, so after these -

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BBQ: AND WE'RE BACK!

Rex: ... Those things just come out of nowhere, don't they?

BBQ: Sal E., Jesse, and Raphael have all ah-wrangled up them hostages, stuffed 'em in a GIANT bag, and slung that sucker intah the BAH JESUS vault.

Rex: That would be the BANK vault. The mini-vault is suspended above on a sturdy hook, and the only way for one of the eight StupidStars to grab it is by finding the combination to the larger vault, freeing the hostages, and getting them to form a ladder to the mini-vault.

BBQ: How many BAH BUDHA times is ya gonna blabber on and on about the rules?! LET'S GET TAH THE BAH GAWD VIOLENCE ALREADY!!!

Rex: ... Well. Alrighty then... All eight men have arrived to the inner sanctum of the First National Bank of Nowhere, and a referee is in place. The police siren is rung to signal the beginning of the match... Hopefully some WSE staff member is bright enough to turn that thing back OFF...

[The match kicks off with the two largest combatants, SuperGuyManDudePerson and Kruzifix fending off the smaller bodies of Jippy Jam the Japanese Jughead, Double-Oh Zero, The Brown Ranger, and Mr. E... Well, E isn't exactly "small", as he's actually a fat ass, with a pair of man boobs bigger than Pamela Anderson's jugs. Some of you may know Mr. E from his appearances in YouTube videos that have been posted over at the Titan Zone. If you've seen them... allow me to apologize. I know that's six minutes of MY life I'll never get back...]

[On the opposite side of the bank, Viruz and Zorlax Firling battle one on one. Vi irishwhips Zorlax into a row of chairs lined against the wall, but Zorlax hops onto one of the middle chairs, runs up the wall the way only an extraterrestrial can, and soars through the air, seeming almost weightless, landing a flying cross body on "Th3 l33t 1". Firling begins to lay in right fist after orange skinned right fist, but Viruz finally manages to shove Firling off. Viruz returns to a vertical base, and springs forward with a spinning lariat... but Zorlax DUCKS! Oh, sorry, I was distracted by a Disney movie about lost ducks. Poor darlings... As I was about to say, Zorlax receives the lariat right to the face, and crashes back first to the floor with a thump!]

BBQ: Now this here's more like it! I likes me a good ol' fashioned, knock 'em down, drag 'em out, bobbercocker!

Rex: What the hell's a "bobbercocker"?

BBQ: It's when a nice lil' missy goes bobbin' fer yer cock-

Rex: -ADOODLE-DOO!

BBQ: What was that fer?

Rex: Ben doesn't like profanity. Maybe trying to make it sound like a rooster walked by will have him think we're cutting back on the cursing.

BBQ: Who in tarnations is "Ben"?

Rex: Uh... nevermind. ANYWAY... Viruz is taking it to the alien being from Downtown Astrolomega, the capitol city of the far away planet Q-Bert. Firling is, to my knowledge, the FIRST extraterrestrial in sports entertainment who isn't really just some jobber in a dollar store halloween costume. Zorlax Firling has arrived on earth from a city that is VERY much like one of America's larger metropolitan areas, like L.A. or NYC. And Firling just so happens to be one of Astrolomega's most talented "Tankoria Boarders", an outer galaxy variation of our earth's "skateboarding".

BBQ: All that nerdy talk got me thinkin' 'bout the new Star Trek Wars movie, "Deep Space Jedis, Episode 13 and a half : The Phantom Penis". It's one of WrassleNymphoMania's many, many sponsors!

Rex: Yep. Leave it to WSE to be sponsored by a porn movie.

BBQ: Well, maybe now that our dirty minded male audience knows it's a gawd bah PORNO, maybe they'll actually git their lazy rears around tah checkin' it out. That'll be more cash in our pockets!

Rex: Don't you mean Jack Hoff's pockets?

BBQ: ... Yes.

[Zorlax finally begins to fight off Viruz, and the two begin to take their battle over to the atm machines. Viruz grabs Zorlax's head and tries to ram it into one of the machines, but the alien elbows Vi in the gut, before snapping off a quick vertical suplex. Zorlax then brings Viruz back to his feet, and positions him in another front chancery, the set-up for a vertical suplex... Zorlax lifts Viruz up into the air, and seems to be trying to bring Vi crashing back down into the row of atm's... but a few feet away, SuperGuyManDudePerson picks up the Brown Ranger, above Person's head, and tosses the Ranger into Zorlax... Firling drops Viruz onto his feet, and the Ranger and Firling fall into the atm machines, breaking them to bits. The Brown Ranger and Zorlax Firling lay in a heap of twisted metal, bent plastic, and shattered glass.]

[Meanwhile, Jippy Jam the Japanese Jughead and Mr. E are now taking it to eachother.]

BBQ: Ya know... that Jap sure do look A-merry-can. And that wetback don't look like he from Mexican-ville neither! He look whiter than a weddin' gown bleached and covered in flour! I think them boys is cock-asian!

Rex: ... Cock Asian?

BBQ: Yall know what I mean! White. Pale. 'Bout as white as sugar that ain't brown!

Rex: Ah... Well, Jippy and Mr. E are NOT Americans. Mr. E is a luchadore from Mexico and Jippy is... well, he was BORN in America, but then he moved to Japan because he was obsessed with anime. So, he had his eyes surgically restructured so they're 4 times larger than normal, so that they resemble those of Japanese cartoon characters. But when he found out that most Japanese people don't speak English, he was forced to move back to the U.S.

BBQ: Why would he think that Japs all speak English?

Rex: Well, he didn't understand that the English dialogue in the Japanese cartoons he watches are translated.

BBQ: ... He a retard, ain't he?

Rex: Yeah, pretty much.

[Mr. E, a "luchadore" who just so happens to be able to perform less lucha moves than Kevin Nash in a wheelchair, sends a few right hands the way of Jippy Jam. Jippy returns a few fists of his own, backing Mr. E up to a payphone. The phone rings, and Jippy answers it.]

Jippy: Herro? ... HE NO LIVE HERE NO MO'!!!

[Jippy then slams the phone into Mr. E's head, busting the "luchadore"'s forehead open, causing blood to trickle down through his "mask", which is actually just a pair of underwear with two eyeholes cut out. Jippy takes a few steps back, sends a sidekick toward Mr. E, but Mr. E picks the leg and spins Jippy around... right into a BIG boot from the Brooding Brooder himself, Kruzifix. The boot sends Mr. E backward, right into a german suplex by Jippy. The german suplex sends Mr. E's head colliding with the payphone, and as Mr. E comes crashing to the ground, the entire phone and its holding compartment comes falling down on his head.]

BBQ: BAH GAWD! That pay phone ain't made outta liquid cheese, lemme tell ya folks!

Rex: ... Are you high?

[Viruz props up one of the chairs lining the walls in the center of the room, runs full speed toward it, before hopping onto it, leaping off... and going for a flying mid-air somersault, which connects with Jippy from behind, sending both men careening into the fallen Mr. E. With Jippy, Mr. E, and Viruz in a pile by the broken telephone, and The Brown Ranger and Zorlax Firling still lying beside the destroyed atm machines on the other end of the room, this leaves Kruzifix and SuperGuyManDudePerson, the two largest members of the match, brawling with eachother... But unbeknownst to the two, the top secret agent, Double-Oh Zero is sneaking through the bank to find the vault combination...]

000: [speaking into a wrist communicator] Miss MoneyNickelAndDime... as I reported earlier, my first mission in Area WSE is to retrieve the hidden combination documents. Any information pertaining to their whereabouts? ... Up my butt? Is that code? ... No? Huh... Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to look.

[Zero indeed reaches inside the back of his black slacks, digs around... and pulls out something.]

000: Hey! There's that ham sandwich I lost last week! [takes a bite] MMMM, still good! And my mud flaps kept it nice, warm, and toasty! Delicous...

[Zero shoves the samich into his pocket for later, before returning to digging around in his crack... he finally pulls out a small piece of paper. He takes a look, and begins to speak into his communicator once again...]

000: Alright, I found it. Thank you indubidibly for the tip, MoneyNickelAndDime, time to put this combination to good use. Agent Zero out...

[Zero presses a button on the communicator, before belching. A tiny piece of something falls out of his mouth and onto the floor. Double-Oh Zero picks up the yellow and brown bit...]

000: Hm... corn. [Zero smells the piece of corn... before eating it] Simply magnificent! Now, time to get to work...

[Agent Zero walks toward the vault with the combination in hand... but as he stands before the metal vault, reading the slip of paper, a shadow is cast over him... Zero slowly turns around... and comes eyes to chest with the purple on yellow logo of SuperGuyManDudePerson.]

000: ... Oh fudge.

SGMDP: NEVER FEAR! SuperGuyManDudePerson is HERE!

000: To be honest... that's what I'm afraid of.

[Zero takes in an exaggerated gulp, before trying to run... but Person stops the agent dead in his tracks. Person grabs 000 by the back of his plain white tie, yanking on it and choking him by the throat. Person slams Zero against the solid metal vault, ripping the bank combination from Zero's hand. Zero slumps to the ground, and Person begins to enter the combination, but Kruzifix body splashes him into the vault from behind. Person crumples onto the carcass of Double-Oh Zero, Kruz picks up the fallen slip of paper, and enters the rest of the combination. The Darkly-Dark Dark One enters the gargantuan vault, and heads straight for the big bag of hostages.]

BBQ: The Dark Prince ah Darkness has opened the bag ah hostages, an' he usin' his dall blang EVIL POWERS~!!1 tah mesmerize them poor pole cats intah doin' his biddin'!

Rex: Actually, it looks to me like Kruz is just asking them all politely to "please" form a neat ladder up to the mini-vault. For an evil, brooding prince of darkness, he's VERY polite.

BBQ: BARBEE-CUE SMOTHERED GOPHER WINGS!!!

Rex: How very... random.

[Kruzifix begins to walk up the human ladder, which has all the old people with bad backs at the top so that maybe they won't have their spinal cords snapped. The bottom of the "ladder" is formed from all of the most muscular, as well as fattest hostages, and the center is filled with jelly. ... Oops, sorry, distracted again! Mmm... jelly donuts. I just can't get enough of these things!]

[Kruz finally makes it to the top of the human ladder, and is reaching for the vault... when scuffling noises can be heard. Kruz stops reaching -

Rex: YOU DUMBASS! You'd think that, by now, wrestlers would try to get the win instead of falling for "distractions". I mean, seriously, the guys that run these interferences don't even end up making a difference until twenty minutes after the dude that's "distracted" gets... uh... distracted.

BBQ: Maybe we oughta stop makin' so many WWE and TNA references with our jokes. Not everybody watches wrasslin', ya know. We might be losin' the readers.

Rex: For one thing... what readers? There's PERHAPS one person reading this, IF that. But really, you might be right. I mean, the only wrestling company that has fewer followers than WSE is TNA. And WWE only survives because of the 13 year old girls who want to have John Cena's statutory-rape-created child.

BBQ: ... Back to da bah gawlly action, folks!

Rex: Thank gawd.

BBQ: You thief! Only I can use da term "gawd"!

Rex: GOOD GAWD!

BBQ: >:^(

[Kruz finally grabs onto the mini-vault... but wait, what's THIS? Another stack of people is forming... they're all from the nearby showing of "Being John Malcovich on Ice"! So many people walked out on that piece of tripe that there's enough to make an even taller "human ladder" than the one Kruz stands on! Kruzfix stares at this... and finds SuperGuyMan DudePerson climbing... and climbing... and he's at the top! Kruz tries to swing at Person, but the caped wonder swings back, and it CONNECTS! Kruz staggers... and Person FLIES through the air with a massive spear! The spear sends both big men hurtling through the air, and crashing through three stacked tables that just so happened to be on the floor for some reason. And... here comes Viruz! Double-Oh Zero is still conked out, and so is Zorlax, Jippy, Taco, and the Brown Ranger... Viruz makes it to the top of the human ladder, reaches up... grabs ahold of the mini-vault... and removes it from the hook!!!]

Rex: Viruz has won it! Viruz has won an opportunity to take ANY title, at ANY time, from ANY champion! Th3 l33t 1 is the first EVER "Let's Rob a Bank" Champion!

BBQ: Folks, does y'all believe in miracles?! Cuz tonight, on this tonight, at night, under a night sky, not tomorrow night, not last night, but TO-night, Viruz walked away with the bah gawd WSE Title!

Rex: Uh ... No? No he didn't.

BBQ: ... ADS!

Rex: Oh not this again -

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[We return to the Middle of Nowhere Arena, where everyone in attendance is dead.]

BBQ: NOT ME! Bah Gawd.

Rex: I think he means all of those poor, suffering African villagers...

BBQ: Well they ain't sufferin' no more! Bah Gawd, they's all up in heaven!

Rex: Or down there... [points to the floor]

BBQ: On the ground? Well, shoot, I think alls ya gotsta do is look at 'em an' see they all done dropped to the floor an' is pickin' up flies faster than a hooker on crack.

Rex: ... No, I meant HELL. Which... actually probably isn't nearly as bad as the village these poor saps came from. Or as bad as being in this arena and watching the show we've been contractually obligated to call for the past several hours. ... Ya know, maybe I should slit my throat. Commiting suicide will, as the bible says, get me into hell. And then I'll be free from this hell on earth!!! WOOHOO!

BBQ: Don't slit yer dad gum throat 'till this paper view's over, alrighty? I don't wanna be stuck callin' the show with that yeller belly, Wes Rivers...

Rex: I don't blame you. Anyway, Howard Fecal is in the center of the squared circle, ready to make the ring introductions for the next match...

Fecal: The following contest is the first of THREE main events here at the Step Daddy of them All, WrestleNymphoMania 69! Tonight, right here, in THIS very ring, in the middle of The Middle of Nowhere Arena, in lovely Nowhere, Oklahoma -

Rex: Lovely? Ch'yeah... sure.

Fecal: - two of the biggest icons in professional sports entertainment today -

Rex: ICONS?! Is Fecal a compulsive liar or something?

Fecal: - will do battle, inside the confines of FOUR cages, stacked one on top of the other, with the ONLY way to win being a knockout for the count of ten!

[The lights cut off... torches light along the sides of the ramp... As the sounds of bells chiming are heard, the Not-The-Titan-Tron fills with the scenes of bread loaves being unmercifully sliced in half... pizza dough being carelessly tosses into the air, without a care, the tossers not having a care, not giving a care... not a care in sight. And finally... the violent images of poor, defenslesses muffins being stuffed into the faces of the heartless.]

Voice from Speakers: From the ashes of a once great chef... comes the darkness of a chef so dark, his bakery resides in a GRAVEYARD. And you KNOW how evil graveyards are in e-feds, that's why they're used in every single rp made by "dark, brooding" e-fed characters. But I digest... As the bells toll for the sound of dinner time... The vultures prey on the fallen crumbs of bread gone by...

Heeee's heeeeere... and he's got a SPATULA!

Voice from Speakers: The time for true stupidity is at hand, and his is served with a side of ceaser salad. The Bakery of Darkness is calling... WSE...

Are you scared?

(A loud gong is heard, before "Flour Power" by Dem Pillzburry Dough Boyz plays, and various spices rain down in a shower upon the stage. Sage... parsley... salt, pepper, and paprika... The spices of the UnderBaker's black magic... the dark arts of Cooking 101. After several hours pass, the UnderBaker steps through the curtains, wearing a raven black chef's hat and apron... and holding his magical, mystical, golden spatula... of DOOM!)

BBQ: Bah GAWD, business is 'bout tah pick up, I tell ya what!

Rex: Yeah, as long as this entrance doesn't take more than 15 hours... Seriously, every time the UnderBaker comes to the ring, it's like Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade!

BBQ: The chef's apprentices are holding the torches, guiding ol' Baker's way, and spider monkeys with cute little outfits are followin' their evil overlord!

Rex: Spider monkeys? ... Does the writer of this just make up shit as he goes along or what?

BBQ: Well, tah be frank... yes.

Rex: Ah... just checking.

[As the UnderBaker makes his way down the ramp, Howard Fecal has plenty... and plenty... of time to make the introduction.]

Fecal: Ladies and gentlemen... he IS the Phork and Kniphe Phenom... he is the Evil Overlord of Eggs and Bacon... he is the Chef of Darkness... and when he serves you a tuna casserole, you better chow down and ask for SECONDS! Hailing from the Bakery of Darkness... He is... the UNDERBAKER!!!

['Baker FINALLY makes it to the ring... The Bread Man steps through the ropes, and when he stands tall inside, he rolls his eyes... not exactly behind his eyelids, really more just like... well, rolling them around in a circular motion. One of those sarcastic things teen chicks do nowadays... except he's not a teen chick. He's a middle aged chef / wrestler. ...]

Fecal: And his opponent!!!

["I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred hits, and the canned cheering strikes up again, as the Headache Kid dances out from the back, wearing mirror pants so shiny they'd blind the sun.]

Rex: Cannibalism for pedophiles!

BBQ: What the hell?

Rex: Trying to get WSE featured in the Trident Zone "Random Quote of the Day".

BBQ: Huh?

Rex: ... Take it away Howie!

Fecal: Hailing from somwhere, weighing in at something else, and standing 72 feet tall, give or take, he is the Door Stopper, the Quasi-Semi-Main Event, MISTER WrestleNymphoMania who knows ALL about the 69... he IS.... The Head... Ache... KIIIIIIID!!!

[HAK dances all the way down to the ring, slides in, and as the two "legends" circle eachother, the monumental monstrosity that is the quadruple decker cell lowers down... and surrounds both grapplers.]

Rex: The structure is in place, and the Kid and 'Baker are ready to begin this first of three main events!

BBQ: The first man that cain't answer the holler ah ten is the loser, an' the other guy gets the win, and a year's supply ah Boom Boom Quaker's Spit an' Shit BBQ saush!

Rex: You're having a hard time getting rid of your supply of that crap, eh?

BBQ: Yer damn right... that stuff's sellin' worse than a Hannah Montana vaginal thermometer.

Rex: ... Yeah, I can picture girls using those. What with 9 year old mothers becoming the "in" thing...

BBQ: I gots a run down of the contents of each cage fer yall that ain't watchin' this match on tv, or at all, an' is instead readin' the transcript on some dirt sheet website, or more likely, is readin' the show in written form on some sub-forum on an e-wrasslin' community message board.

Rex: You need a breather after that sentence?

BBQ: [breaths deeply and then sighs heavily] Phew... as I was sayin'. The bottom cage gots a ladder, in that there second cage there's a buncha tables, in the third cage there's a buncha chairs, an' in the tip-top, fourth an' final cage there's a buncha baked goods.

Rex: Tables, ladders, chairs, and baked goods OH MY!

BBQ: OH BAH GAWD!

Rex: :rolleyes:

BBQ: Sorry. Had tah do it.

[The Kid and The Baker encircle eachother... before finally locking up with the collar and elbow. Kid floats over behind Baker, and tries to apply a full nelson, but Baker reverses this into a side headlock. Baker flips HAK over, slamming the Kid backfirst to the canvas, still holding the headlock firmly. The Kid manages to nippup into a vertical base, turns around... right into a standing clothesline from the Phork and Kniphe Phenom!]

Rex: We're actually getting some REAL wrestling on this show. Only took SIX MATCHES... And this is the biggest show of the year?

BBQ: THEY'RE A COUPLE AH HOSSES ON FAHR!!!

Rex: Compared to the other jokes on the roster, these guys are about as close as a WSE "StupidStar" comes to being a "legend"... And that's just sad.

[Baker applies a legscissors to the Kid's right arm, trying to tear apart the tendons and ligaments in the man's limb... Baker continues to lock one leg around the Kid's right arm, while reaching over and starting to pull on the Head Ache Kid's right leg, shoving a knee forcefully into the side of HAK's ribs in a submission hold that's painful just to watch... The Kid lifts his left hand into the air, trying to rally up some resistence... and finally manages to slap Baker across the face, before a poke to the eyes breaks up the hold. The Kid crawls along the mat to the corner... Baker wipes at his eyes, suffering slightly from the thumb jab to his sockets. Baker walks toward the corner opposite that of which HAK made his way toward... Baker finally shakes the cobwebs, finds HAK struggling to his feet, leaning against the corner post... Baker rushes in to the Kid's corner, but HAK lifts both legs up, double booting Baker in the mush. Baker reels around, and HAK immediately drops the Baker with a reverse ddt.]

BBQ: Right on da money! The Head Ache Kid is comin' back like a locomotive, and there ain't no stoppin' him now!

Rex: I think that's copyrighted to the WWE... Shelton Benjamin uses that line in his theme song.

BBQ: Huh... There ain't no stoppin' him... today?

Rex: That'll work.

[HAK repositions Baker's body, lining him up with his left side facing the corner. The Kid begins to ascend to the top turnbuckle... but as he begins to go for the moonsault, Baker finds the power to lift HAK off from the turnbuckle in powerbomb position, raising him high above Baker's head... and sending the Head Ache Kid's smaller frame rocketing back down to the ring floor with the Cake Walk, a modified "Last Ride". Which... well, it's basically the Last Ride only with Baker adding some extra "oomph". The extra oomph being a different name. Baker then grabs a ladder, and sets it up in the center of the ring, underneath a hole to the next cage. HAK is slowly making it to his feet, but Baker is already climbing into the next cell by the time the Kid has made it to a standing position. HAK quickly leaps onto the ladder, landing somewhere in the middle of the non-human ladder.]

Rex: What kind of description is "non-human ladder"?

BBQ: Well, it's refferin' to the "Let's Rob a Bank" match from earlier. Where Viruz climbed the ladder formed by a buncha people to grab the mini-vault!

Rex: Ah... the description still sucks.

[Baker grabs a table from the cage wall, and sets it up in the center of the second cage. HAK makes his way into this cell, and the two men begin to lay into eachother with knuckles flying. Somehow a ladder appears, and Baker begins to climb it, heading for the third cage, but the Kid begins to shake the ladder back... and forth... and back... until...]

[SMASH!!!]

[The UnderBaker topples from the ladder, smashing through the table and sending splintered wood into every direction. HAK uses the ladder to climb up to the third level, and pulls the the ladder up after him.]

BBQ: BAH GAWD, do you believe in rushed endings?!

Rex: Apparently the writer does... aw well, I've got a Sopranos rerun to catch. FUGGEDABOUTIT!!!

BBQ: So-

Rex: FUGGEDABOUTIT!!!

BBQ: ... Well-

Rex: FUGGEDA-

[BBQ immediately begins to choke the life out of Rex. And does so.]

BBQ: ... [releasing his grip on Rex] ... HE'S DEAD... I BAH GAWD KILLED HIM!!!

[Police sirens are heard, and cops quickly rush in and carry Boom Boom away. ... And as soon as Boom Boom is far away, probably headed to the death row and a visit to the electric chair, Rex sits back up.]

Rex: HA! April fools bastard! ... Where'd he go?

Wes: Hello sports fans!

Rex: ... Oh dear God no. I really DID die. And I woke up in HELL!!!

Wes: Welp, it looks as though the Wild, Wild Wes Report is dead, so, since BBQ is being sent off to receive a nifty fatal injection... I'M BACK!!!

Rex: Wow. I couldn't be happier. Honestly. Except if ANYTHING ELSE HAPPENED. ... ANYTHING!!! >:^(

Wes: :^D

Rex: Well, it looks like the gang's back together. Except it's no longer Wes Rivers and Rex Winters, it's how it always SHOULD have been ; Rex Russo and Wes Rivers!

Wes: What's the big difference?

Rex: Well, I changed my last name to "Russo"... but MUCH more importantly, my name's before yours! :^P

Wes: :rolleyes:

[The Head Ache Kid stands in the third cage, along with the ladder, and the UnderBaker is still in a wreck of broken wood and messed up metal. HAK tries to set up the ladder, but he accidentally fumbles it, and it clatters all the way back to the bottom! Clumsy HAK, ladders are for people that aren't idiots!]

Wes: Parody of the Trix Rabbit line?

Rex: Apparently.

Wes: I see... I think I should have reconsidered my return. Or... not considered it in the first place.

Rex: Would have made BOTH of us happy. :^P

Wes:

[The Head Ache Kid tries to jump up high enough to leap through the hole in the roof, but to no avail... Stupid idea really. Unless you're Shaq. Meanwhile, in the third cage, it's -

Wes: THE BIG RED NOSED MACHINE! The monstrous clown, Klown, is beating the holy living hell out of his own brother! This is insane! This is inhuman! This is -

Rex: This is padding out the match, pretty much.

Wes: Klown pulls Baker to his feet, and tries to go for Klown's move, the Pie to the Face, which is a... pie to the face. BUT, Baker ducks under, bounces off the side of the cage for no apparent reason, and soars into the air... landing a diving clothesline, nearly beheading Klown! Baker then uses his darkly dark powers to ascend to the third cage!

Rex: And the rushing of the match continues... the Triple S vs Retard Orton and Championship Scramble matches BETTER make up for this...

Wes: Trust me, if they're anything like the matches they're based on... chances are grim to say the least. Any-howard, Baker shakes off the attack at the hands of Klown, and goes to derail HAK's attempts at making it to the next level of this demonic constructure!

Rex: Contstructure?

Wes: Sorry, was reading from Boom Boom's part of the script. Jeez, he makes up ALOT of the words he uses... what the hell's a "bobbercocker"?

Rex: You don't wanna know...

Wes: Baker and HAK colliding with rights to the head, kicks to the shin, and other mean, nasty things! Baker slams HAK's face into a steel chair attached to the steel cage wall, which rattles not only all that steel, but the Kid's face as well! The Kid must have a Headache!

Rex: GET IT?!

Wes: Get what?

Rex: ... I thought that was a joke?

Wes: No? Why would I joke about HAK having a migraine?

Rex: ... GET IT?!?!!??!

Wes: No. Anyway, Baker removes a steel chair from the cage wall, and swings it at HAK... but HAK superkicks the chair back into the face of Baker! He calls that the Head Trauma!

Rex: Which is, let me guess, a "modified" version of Sweet Chin Music?

Wes: How'd you know?

Rex: Lucky guess...

Wes: The chair ROCKS Baker, sending him staggering across the floor of the third cage. HAK picks up the chair, and slams it into Baker's back... and again... and a THIRD time! The Kid goes for a shot to the head... but the UnderBaker puts his fist THROUGH the chair, giving HAK a peanut butter and knuckle samich! HAK goes out like a light, and is now laying motionless on the cage floor. Baker piles a few chairs on top of the Kid, and then pulls a ladder out of thin air. Baker positions the ladder so that it pins HAK underneath not only the chairs, but the ladder as well. Baker begins to climb... and makes it to the top cell!

Wes: The UnderBaker is deadly close to the top of the structure... but what could he have planned once he reaches the top?

Rex: I thought that's how you win this sort of match?

Wes: Of course not Rex, the ONLY way to win is to knock out the opponent for the count of ten!

Rex: ... The writer forgot that little tidbit, didn't he?

Wes: Well... yeah, but I'll cover for it.

Rex: Huh?

Wes: AND THE MATCH CONTINUES!!!

Rex: Nice save. Not.

Wes: There are muffins, cookies, strudels, pies, cakes, and every other imagineable baked good you can think of in that top cage! This is the UnderBaker's playground! It's the Bread Man's domain!

Rex: It's a waste of good food! I've always hated food fights... Food. It's a terrible thing to waste.

Wes: That motto sounds familiar...

Rex: Forget the mind, the most important organ in MY body is the STOMACH!

Wes: The Head Ache Kid eventually removes the chairs, climbs the ladder, and reaches the fourth level, but by the time he does all this, Baker has already made it to the top of this hellacious cell.

Rex: It's such a hellacious cell you could almost say it's hell IN a cell! ... HA! GET IT?!

Wes: No, Rex, I don't get it.

Rex: ... I'm already starting to miss Boom Boom. Never thought I'd say THAT...

Wes: The Kid grabs something, and makes his way up the ladder... making it to the very pinnacle of this satanic cell of cells! Baker is turned the other way, but when he feels a tap on his shoulder, he spins around... and the Head Ache Kid tries to smush a pie into his face... WHICH MISSES!!!

Rex: Two pies have missed Baker already, but when HollyRock met up with pies, he was CREAMED. ... Heehee. WOO, I'm wild and crazy!

Wes: The Kid -

Rex: Wild and crazy kids! Now THERE was a show. Damn Nickelodeon used to rock...

Wes: Ahem... The Kid -

Rex: I remember that movie. The Kid. Bruce Willis is friggin' sweet!

Wes: Rex, seriously. Stop it with the references. Noone can follow along with them.

Rex: Can anybody honestly follow along with ANYTHING that happens on ANY of our shows?

Wes: Well...

Rex: Didn't think so.

Wes: Regardless, HAK turns around... CHOKESLAM FROM HELL'S KITCHEN!!!

Rex: Oh... my... GOD.

Wes: The Head Ache Kid has just been sent one hundred feet from the top of that cage, allllll the way to the ramp below... wait, where did those fifty stacked tables come from? AND THEY'RE ON FIRE!!!

Rex: HELLZ YEAH! Now THAT totally reeks of awesomeness! It may have been just one bump, but DAMN was it a doozy!

Wes: HAK just went through FIFTY stacked tables, each of them lit on fire. Where did they come from? And how exactly did fifty tables become engulfed in flames without burning down the building?

Rex: It's professional sports entertainment! Logic be damned!

Wes: The referee counts out the Kid, but it's all academic at this point. The ref reaches the ten, and waves his arms to signal the bell. Jesus jimminy christmas... I can't BELIEVE what we've just witnessed... I don't know what to say except... The boyhood dream has come true!

Rex: ... Uh... Wes? The Headache Kid just fell about a hundred feet off the top of four cages through FIFTY flaming tables... I don't think this is exactly what HAK dreamt about when he was a youngster. And I don't think he's going to be doing much more dreaming of any kind now that he's... well... dead.

Wes: Who will be dead next?!

Rex: ...

Wes: Find out, after THIS!

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Wes Rivers: Sports fans, this next match is the culmination of an INTENSE rivalry between Triple S and Retard Orton!

Rex Russo: Yeah, a rivalry so intense it only consists of one promo on Nitro. Face it, the ONLY reason we're even doing this match is because of Triple H vs the OTHER Orton. And you say I'm bad with my WWE references?

Wes: Well, the writer is working on it... I'm told. ANYWAY... That particular feud isn't the ONLY reason for this match. The winner of this contest will earn a shot at the ONLY SECONDARY TITLE THAT MATTERS which they may cash in at any time, at any show, against any champion! Well... as long as it's the ONLY SECONDARY CHAMPION THAT MATTERS... And awaaay we GO!

Rex: Great 'Ralph Kramden' impression... seriously.

Wes: Take it away, Fecal!

Rex: Where do we get these people, anyway? Howard Fecal, Mike Stand, Rat Bore... not to mention the names of the Stupid Stars. Was it half price day at Crazy-Names-A-Palooza or something?

Wes: ... HOWARD! I mean it, do the intros so we can cut Rex's microphone. His "jokes" are starting to give me a headache!

Rex: The matches up to this point have been far worse than my jokes. They're about to force me to jab a couple pencils into my eyeballs just so I don't have to watch them anymore!

Wes: Well, don't worry. There's only two left, and they both promise to be FANTASTIC!

Mr. Fantastic: When the splash comes, you'll be wiped out! OHHH YEAH!

[Mr. Fantastic walks off.]

Wes: ...

Rex: WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?!

Wes: Someone from Brawlers on a Budget, I believe. BOB is known for their crazy, mixed-up individuals.

Rex: Yup. Unlike World Sports Entertainment, where everyone has their head screwed on straight...

Howard Fecal: I lost my pants!

Rex: ... I stand corrected.

Wes: Howard! You're in your boxers! Where did your pants go?!

Fecal: I misplaced them.

Wes: But... But you've been sitting here at ringside the whole show!

Fecal: I know! You gotta show some compassion for that fact alone!

Rex: I hear ya brother...

Wes: ... Let's just go to the damn house!

Rex: Great, the sooner we begin, the quicker we get this over with!

Wes: Stop bemoaning the product! You'll give people the wrong impression, and they'll turn on it, and they won't watch anymore, and-

Rex: You honestly believe me "bemoaning the product" is what's going to cause the people to stop watching? I'd be surprised if anyone's still watching even though they had to PAY to see this! ... Hell, I can't believe anyone actually DID pay for this...

Wes: HOUSE! NOW! PLEASE!

[The camera quick cuts to the outside of a fine looking home...]

[CRASH]

(A body is sent flying through a window... and it's the body of Retard Orton! The camera closes in on the scene, and we find Triple S step through the shattered window, sledgehammer in hand, as he stalks after Retard...)

Wes: This "Let's Tear Up a House" match is underway! SSS has tossed Retard through a pane glass window! The already bloody Retard is rolling across the grass, shards of glass stuck into his flesh, as TripS walks over to his victim... TripS yanks Retard up by his tights, and as soon as Retard is [barely] on his feet, TripS irish-whips the "IQ Killer"... before pulling Orton back in... lifting him up, and SLAMMING him back down with a simply wicked Double-A spinebuster!!! Retard is out like a light on the front lawn!

Rex: You know... I wonder whose house that is, anyway?

Wes: Uhm...

[The front door opens, and out comes a tattooed and pierced, young Asian woman, in a dominatrix outfit and carrying a bull whip.]

Jerri Li: One of you wussies broke my window while I was in the bedroom breaking some poor guy's back! Now? I BREAK BOTH OF YOUR NECKS!!!

Wes: Triple S looks a bit frightened by this scary looking woman... but Retard Orton has managed to make it to his feet... and he's running? ... He just punted that defenseless man in the head!

Rex: ... Wes. That's a LAWN GNOME.

Wes: A lawn gnome with a gimp outfit on!

Rex: That chick is SICK! I definitely need her number...

Wes: The gnome is sent flying through the air, and landing in the middle of the next door neighbor's lawn. A teenage kid with green hair walks out... and sets the gnome on fire. ...

Kevin: PYROMANIA~!!!1a

Rex: ... This match is already the weirdest thing I've seen so far at this event... and that's saying something.

Wes: We've still got a Championship Scramble for the OSTTM to come, but first, we've got to determine a winner for THIS match... but Triple S and Retard Orton are being chased from the house by that vicous vixxxen.

Rex: Now THERE's an e-fed! MUCH better than this crap!

Wes: Whadya mean, Rex?

Rex: Oh, nothing... *cough* www.google.com/search?q=luscious+vixxxens+e+wrestling *cough*

Wes: You have a cold?

Rex: Sure... ANYWAY, Retard and TripS are battling into the street... And the Mang-ah smashes Retard's face into a steel pole! Dammit Retard, fight back! I've got ten bucks riding on this match!

Wes: Yep, and I can't WAIT until you have to pay up!

Rex: Grrr...

Wes: TripS drops Retard with a ddt which plants Retard on his head for half a minute before he falls on his back! The ref checks to see if Retard is knocked out, but he's not quite there yet. TripS lifts Retard up by the head, and begins to send fist after fist at Retard, backing him up into the middle of the street, until -

[CRASH]

Wes: OH MY GOD!!!

Rex: Holy shit... was that supposed to happen?

Wes: Uh... I'm pretty sure it... wasn't. ... Maybe they ad-libbed?

[Both Triple S and Retard Orton lay unconcious in the middle of the road, victims of a semi-truck running over them... A sad, sad sight, I'll tell ya what...]

[BOOM BOOM! You were fired! So get outta here and leave the narrating to the professional!]

[Sorry thar chief. This here's good ol' Boom Boom Quaker, signin' off!]

[Ugh... Anyway, TripS and Retard are knocked out... the ref heads over to their bloodied, bruised, battered and broken bodies to check on them...]

Ref: ... They're dead.

Wes: Oh dear lord...

Rex: DAMMIT! Now I don't get my ten bucks! Well, atleast I don't have to give your jerk ass a ten...

Wes: Rex! Is that all you can think of?! Both of these men are DEAD, and all you're worried about is a silly bet?!

Rex: Hey, it's not my fault that these two clowns didn't look both ways before walking across the street! They should have listened to their mommas when they were little! It's nobody's fault but their own!

Wes: Well, on that note, here's a tribute we made in five seconds, dedicated to these two fallen warriors.

........................................................................................

SUDDENLY... "Voices of Dead Metrosexual Douche Bags in My Head" by some generic "alternative" band hits, and out comes the IQ Killer himself, Retard Orton!!! Retard runs down to the ring, behind TripS, who is somehow unaware of Orton's prescence, despite the blaring rock music.]

BBQ: WHY?! WHY is Retard Orton here?!?! What has brought Retard Orton out during this contract signing segment?!

Rex: Honestly, Boom Boom, are you not aware of current WWE events? Randy Orton is SOOO after Triple H's wife. Thus, Jack thought it would be a good idea to rip that angle off and make it even more crappy than it already is.

BBQ: ... Randy Orton? ... Triple H? Who in the by gawd HECK are they?

Rex: ... You're even more retarded than Orton. And his first name IS Retard. You're practically a living miracle...

BBQ: TURN AROUND, SHNOZZ!!! You gotta turn around! Dammit, this just ain't RIGHT! OH THE HUMANITY!!!

[Triple S finally finishes celebrating his bashing Sid's brains in with the hammer... with Sid holding his cranium over in the corner... when TripS FINALLY turns around, right into Retard Orton's patented "IQ Cutter".]

BBQ: DIAMOND CUTTER! DIAMOND CUTTER! BAH GAWD, DIA-

[ACHEM!! "IQ" Cutter, Boom Boom!!! Argh...]

[Sid heads north up the turnbuckles, goes for a flying mule kick on Retard, but just breaks his leg into two dozen pieces.]

BBQ: He'll have to have that reconstructed! Bah gawd the carnage and barbecue sauce covered buffalo wings!

Rex: Yep... *looks at watch*

[Orton stares down at the fallen and screaming Sid... before grabbing a microphone, and crouchind down over Triple S. Retard begins to shout at TripS, with spit flying everywhere... and what appears to be a loogie hanging from his lips. Retard's face is awash in a sick, twisted stare... or maybe it's just the same old usual, blank, emotionless face he usually displays..]

Retard: SUPER SIZED SHNOZZ! You KNOW you can't escape the IQ Killer! Because I'm lurking here, and I'm lurking there... I'm lurking on a boat, and behind a goat... I'm lurking in planes, in trains, without one or two brains... I'm lurking... ALWAYS lurking... even on message boards! Just so that I can strike when you LEAST expect it... And so I can hit on your pretty wife! Because she's got the titties goin' on, ya know what I mean?! And DAMN does she look fine in a pair of glasses... BUT ANYWAY. You and me are on a collision course, Shnozzy... and it's going to happen at WrestleNymphoMania 69!!! And it's going to go down... IN MY HOUSE!

Rex: Doesn't he mean "In Your House"? ... You know, like the old WWF pay-per-views? ... Nevermind.

[Sid seems fairly embarrased from his fall, almost ready to cut his own throat with a razor. But he doesn't... in fact... he GETS UP... and hops on one leg over to Retard with a mic in hand.]

Sid: You are not the Retard! I am! I am the horse powered, fast talking, stupifying, dumb son of a bitch you wish you could be! But you CAN'T BE! I want to face Triple S... AND YOU... in a barbediwire wrapped... electrified... flaming... snake venom soaked... QUADRUPLE CAGE MATCH~!!!!1

[Retard peers over at Sid, and stands up. Retard continues to stare blankly...]

Retard: You... WHO ARE YOU?!

[Sid powerombs Retard through the ring.]

BBQ: BAH GAWD ON A BISCUIT!

Rex: This segment... DOES have a point, right?

BBQ: *choking Rex with excitement* BAH GAWD! BAH GAWD! BAH GAWD!

Rex: AAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH, lemme go you nutcase!

BBQ: The PURE sticky barbecue sauce covered, microwaved kung pao chicken peppered with tabasco style excitement is SICKENING~!

[Retard is squirming on the mat, and Triple S finally makes it to his feet. He stares down at Retard... and then back at Sid.]

SSS: You do this?

Sid: Yep.

SSS: Well then...

[TripS extends a hand... and Sid looks wary. He finally accepts the hand, and the two shake.]

BBQ: Well folks, it seems as though the two brands have decided to co-exist!

Rex: Whoopie-doo. Does that mean I can go back to playing video games?

........................................................................................

"The Mang" Triple S vs "The IQ Killer" Retard Orton

A war for the ages... An epic struggle... A match really just booked so we could have a parody of the Randy Orton / Triple H feud. But hey, atleast it beats a feud based around two men fighting over a fat, ugly woman, just because she has the stroke to book them into the title picture.

........................................................................................

[Clips from the match... Triple S and Retard Orton being killed by a semi-truck... and finally fading out on ; ]



........................................................................................

Rex: ... Whoa, that... That REALLY touched me, Wes. Innapropriately, might I add.

Wes: As the ten bells ring -

Rex: I don't hear anything?

Wes: Ahem...

Rex: Honest, Wes! I knew we shouldn't have gotten Hank the Lazy Timekeeper to be our timekeeper. That name just gives off a bad vibe for some reason...

Wes: Argh... Anyway sports fans, we'll be back with our main event, after THIS message!

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[We return to the Middle of Nowhere Arena, for the main event of WrestleNymphoMania 69... Howard Fecal stands center ring, microphone in hand...]

Fecal: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of ALL ages... the following contest is the MAIN EVENT... of the eveniiing. Tonight, five men step foot inside the squared circle... but only one leaves as the ONLY SECONDARY CHAMPION THAT MATTERS! The rules are simple ; Two men will begin in the ring, and every five minutes another combatant will enter. There are NO disqualifications and NO countouts. Anyone who picks up a pinfall or submission will be crowned the interim champion, and the last man to capture a fall by the time 30 minutes are up will be crowned the undisputed ONLY SECONDARY CHAMPION THAT MATTERS!!!

Rex: When someone in WSE says "the rules are simple"... they're pretty much lying through their teeth, aren't they?

Wes: Pretty much.

Fecal: Introducing first... hailing from The Land of Milk and Honey... a hero in these tough times, with a fistful of dynamite ready to KO the economic problems this nation faces... He is a patriot, unwavering, and unbending! And he'll fight for YOU... as long as you're white skinned, blue eyed, blonde haired, and not too fugly. He IS America... he is... Redd... W... BLOOOO!!!

[The Not-The-Titan-Tron comes to life, showing the image of a bald eagle soaring across the country... viewing the beauty that is this great land... when suddenly, a shot rings out through the air... and the eagle plummets through the sky, falling upon the grass. A hand reaches down to pick up its carcass... and the camera pulls out to show Redd W. Bloo holding the eagle by the throat in one hand, a rifle in the other hand... Redd smiles through his red, white, and blue mask... before ripping off the eagle's head with his teeth. He munches the American fowel with his chompers, before gulping it down, and letting out a belch. With his mouth dripping with blood, Redd speaks.]

Redd: MMMM... tastes like CHICKEN!

["Born in the USA" by Bruce Springsteen strikes up, and pre-recorded booing is pumped over the theme. Redd W. Bloo steps through the curtain, waving an American flag in the air, and wearing the ONLY SECONDARY TITLE THAT MATTERS around his well toned waist. He wears no shirt... a pair of red and white striped pants... a blue mask with a white star printed over the face... red, white and blue striped wrist tape... and a pair of blue boots painted with white stars. Redd walks down to the ring, and when he enters, he lodges the flag into one of the corner turnbuckles, leaving it standing proudly. Redd grabs a microphone...]

Redd: WOOOO!!! [Redd stares into the camera and jabs a finger into its lens] Lemme tell ya somethin' Green Bean! The Dubbya-nator is here, and I'm chiseled to a tee, DIG IT?! I've been steppin' intah my slim jims, I've been poppin' my pills and drinkin' my herbal tea! I've been shootin' up on my steroids, rottin' my teeth out with my jawbreakers and Cherry-flavored Kookoo-Aid, and I've been impregnatin' my 16 year old wife when I'm at my ripe old age of fiddy five! Yup, my sister, Karen Bloo, the best wife I've had since... well, since I was married to my mom! Cuz trust me, nobody cooks like momma! Both in the kitchen, and in the sack!

Wes: This is DISGUSTING! Somebody cut Redd's microphone!

Rex: Why?! He's an AMERICAN! He has a right to free speech, ya know!

Wes: Do you like to hear a guy talking about marrying his sister and sleeping with his mom?!

Rex: Well... tail's tail, ya know. :^P

Wes: You're horrible, Rex. Simply horrible.

Rex: Thanks for the compliment!

Fecal: And the second entrant into this mess... He hails from the mythical land of Hyperbolithica... a young man, traveling near and far on a quest to find the one thing that can free his friends and family from the evil spell cast down upon them by the evil sorcerer, Disgruntledorf. Yes, the ONLY thing powerful enough to break the spell's hold... the magical treasure known only as "The Belt". Put your hands together for the HERO... Goo, the ADVENTURERRR!!!

[The Not-The-Titan-Tron kicks up once again, this time displaying three golden triangles... which merge together to form a single triangle, known in the far away land of Hyperbolithca as the Triangle of Force. Suddenly, a blinding light pierces the arena, and as it quickly fades, Goo is seen standing upon the stage, plastic sword lifted to the heavens...]

Rex: Wow. A PLASTIC sword. I'm sure that'll just frighten the pants right off of Redd W. :^P

Wes: Well, I'm sure Goo can poke Redd in the eye... or... well, yeah, it is a pretty sucky weapon. But hey, atleast it looks nifty with all that digitally enhanced sparkling inserted via video editing.

Rex: Yeah, but... we can't see that, Wes. It hasn't been inserted YET... we're WATCHING it happen!

Wes: Oh... LOOK OVER THERE!

Rex: Where?! [Rex shoots glances every which way] Hey, there's nothing around but a bunch of dead Africans and two goofballs in wacky outfits about to begin a crappy "wrestling match”.

Wes: And that wrestling match will begin... uh... I guess there aren’t any more ads. ... Well then. Goo is in the ring... Bloo is in the ring... the bell rings, and sports fans, this humongoloid main event is underway!

Rex: ... Humongoloid?

Wes: It’s a word... but don’t look it up.

Rex: Uh huh...

Wes: Honest!

Rex: ;^)

Wes: Oh stop it with the damn smilies!

Rex: :^D

Wes: Redd W. Bloo stands a few feet away from the smaller sized Goo the Adventurer... Goo still holding his sword.

Rex: Heehee... holding his SWORD! HA!

Wes: Ugh... Goo charges at Bloo, raising the sword before him... the sword being entirely legal in this no dq match... But just as Goo comes within striking distance, Bloo uses his muscle to power Goo overhead with a back body drop. Goo releases the sword in mid-air, which falls to the mat. Goo flies over the top rope, crumpling to the outside. Bloo reaches down and picks up the plastic weapon... before breaking it in half over his knee!

Rex: Ha! What’d I tell ya? That dinky little toy wasn’t a “weapon”, it was nothing more than another thing for Redd W. to crush! Just like he’s going to do to that twerp, Goo!

Wes: Bloo tosses both halves of the “sword” over the top rope, falling onto the chest of Goo... Bloo ascends to the top turnbuckle... the Patriotic Powerhouse stands and lifts his fists into the air, and -

John Semen: YO, YO, YO, YO, YO, YO, YO!

Wes: What the...

Rex: It seems as though The Cum Stain Soldier isn’t going to wait five minutes before he enters the fray! GOOO SEMEN! ... BWAHAHAHA, Semen. Heehee...

[Semen free styles his way down to the ring...]

Semen: Yo, dawgs and dawg-ettes, its WrestleNymphoMania time!
Dis diz-amn paper view be so hardcore gangsta it oughta be a crime!
And you KNOW that not even my penis be longer than that last line!
I’m just makin’ up shiz-nit randomly that kinda sorta rhyme!

When you steppin’ wit da Semen, you be jizzin’ every whurr,
Wear ya best damn wig, and I’mma jack off in ya hurr
Just like KYJ, but not our Chairman Jack Hoff
Cuz since that sucka hasn’t paid me since I joined this stupid fed, he can just -

Pre-recorded Audience : FUCK OFF!!!

Semen: Word to ya gram-gram!

Rex: ... This show is officially dead. Way... way past dead. NOTHING has been able to save this show from the get-go. ... I need a porno mag, STAT!

Wes: John Semen slides into the ring, and rips Redd W. Bloo from the turnbuckle, before irish whipping the American Made Male into the opposite corner. Semen runs forth, leaps into the air, and hits a dropkick to the face of Bloo in the corner. Bloo stumbles out a bit... Semen loads Bloo up in fire-man’s carry position, and... FUCK YOU!

Rex: Hey! Fuck YOU pal! I don’t need to take this crapola! I could quit right now ya know!

Wes: No, no, no Rex, I don’t mean it as an actual remark. That’s John Semen’s MOVE.

Rex: ... Maybe I should quit anyway.

Wes: Semen goes for the pin... and gets it! Semen is the current champion, but he must survive 25 more minutes to remain champ.

Speakers: WEEEEELLLLLLL... Well it’s the Biiig HOOO!!!

Rex: It’s only five minutes into the match, and four of the five participants are already in the ring! So much for “five minute intervals”... I smell something afoot.

Wes: It’s not MY feet! I took a shower right before we came out here!

Rex: ... You’re even dumber than Boom Boom Quaker. And that takes an awful lot of effort...

Wes: The Big Ho’s in, John Semen is in, Bloo and Goo are in... the only man left to enter is “The Rated G StupidStar” Nicky Mowse... and we STILL have a little under 25 minutes left!

[The Not-The-Titan-Tron comes on, with the camera following a trail of DizzyWorld merchandise fallen on the floor... it leads to Nicky Mowse, driven through a table! The man in the big, goofy mouse costume is unconcious, but who could POSSIBLY be behind this development?!]

Wes: Who could POSSIBLY be behind this development?!

Rex: Is there any echo?

Wes: Ho and Semen are duking it out in the center of the ring, and likewise with Goo and Bloo on the outside of the ring. Goo manages to slam Bloo’s face into the steel steps, but Bloo immediately turns around and levels Goo with a big boot! Inside the ring, The Big Ho is being taken aback by right after right from John Semen... Semen backs Ho up into the corner where the American flag is waving from... Semen mounts Ho in the corner, and begin smashing fists of fury into the giant’s face... But when Semen gets to ten, Ho yanks Semen by the throat... and HOSTOPPER! The HUUUGE chokeslam rocks Semen to the bone, and The Big Ho goes for the cover ;

1... 2... 3!

Wes: The Big Ho is the interim champ!

Rex: Awww man... Semen is one of my favorites. Simply because of his name, and nothing else. Because, admit it... John SEMEN?! That name is GOLD!

Wes: Gold or not, Semen is hurting on the canvas, and Ho is... heading to the ramp? We’re out ten minutes, ticking down twenty more, and it looks like the Ho is heading AWAY from the ring? Remember sports fans, this match may be no dq, no count out, but pinfalls and submissions MUST take place INSIDE the ring... which means this may be very good strategy from the Ho.]

Speakers: COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOO!!!

[”You Know You’re Right” by Nirvana plays, and from the curtains emerges a grungey looking guy, with long, scraggly brown hair... torn blue jean shorts... tattered black sneakers and dirty white socks... a black t-shirt with the logo of the rock band "GwarTellica" printed across the front... and a plaid, long sleeve shirt tied around the waist. The man flaps his arms like... well, like a chicken.]

Rex: Ha! That dude’s doing the chicken dance!

Wes: It’s Chicken! Redd was talking about "chicken" upon his entrance, and now he's here in the flesh!

Rex: ... Who's here in the flesh?

Wes: Chicken... He was born in a chicken coop. Yes, an ACTUAL chicken coop. He is the son of a horny farmer and an unlucky hen. Chicken is a brooding brooder who broods... broodishly. He cares for noone, not even himself. And he hates his father. Both for the fact that he sold Chicken's mother to KFC to be turned into chicken strips... and because, when they had Chicken's mom for lunch, Chick's dad didn't pass the ketchup.

Rex: Wow... That’s a lot of... words. And stuff.

Wes: Thank GOD for copy and paste. That roster thread comes in handy once in a while after all...

Rex: Huh?

Wes: Nothin’. And here comes Chicken! He comes toward the Big Ho... and Ho... lays down?! What in the world is going on here?!

Rex: I lost track of what was going on HOURS ago...

Wes: Chicken pins Ho, and gets the three! Dammit, Ho and Chicken are in cahoots!

Rex: Who says “cahoots”

Wes: Old people! ... And me. Apparently anyway... REGARDLESS. Chicken high-fives the Big Ho. As Chicken runs down to the ring, Big Ho the Oversized Drag Queen blows a kiss to the Feathered One, before departing through the curtains.

Rex: I need to go take a dump.

Wes: ... Thanks for the info.

Rex: I’ll be back... uh... after the paper view.

Wes: What?! How am I supposed to finish the show by myself?!

Rex: Oh, you’ll find some way. Dropping the kids off at the pool should be a hundred more times more exciting than THIS... I’m outie 5000.

[Rex exits. Wes shuffles papers...]

Wes: Er... well, sports fans...

Tad “The Tool” Griswold: Hi there Wes!

Wes: ... Who the hell are you?

Tad: The name’s Tad. Tad “The Tool” Griswold. And I’ve been hired to be the NEW columnist for the new and IMPROVED “RestHold” column!

Wes: ... But what about my “Wild, Wild Wes Report”?

Tad: It’s been cancelled! Isn’t it GREAT?!

Wes: ...

Tad: Folks, in addition to running the rest of tonight’s commentary alongside Wes, I’ve been requested upon to deliever the news that, the winner of this match will NOT be the ONLY SECONDARY CHAMPION THAT MATTERS!

Wes: ... Well, things are changing. They’re just changing randomly and for no good reason... What excitement!

Tad: Nope, the winner of this match will NOT be declared the OSCTM... because that title is DEAD!

Wes: THIS IS MADNESS!!!

Tad: No, it’s a MERGER! The ONLY SECONDARY TITLE is being merged with the Applecore 24/7 title, and together, they will be known from now on as the Xtrmkor Title! And whomever wins this match will be crowned the FIRST Xtrmkor champ!

Wes: Jeez... And let me guess, the Xtrmkor title is basically the 24/7 title, except it’s now the ONLY secondary title. So, in a sense, it is the ONLY SECONDARY TITLE THAT MATTERS... but it’s defended 24/7. ... Right?

Tad: Yup.

Wes: Great... Well, ANYWAY... We’ve got about fifteen minutes left, and we have Goo and Bloo STILL battling on the outside of the ring... but inside, Chicken has entered the squared circle, and is trading punches and kicks with John Semen... Semen loads up Chicken for another Fuck You... but Semen is BLINDSIDED from behind by Redd W. Bloo, who tosses the body of Goo the Adventurer into Semen’s back, sending Semen, Goo, and Chicken all falling to the mat in a pile. Redd reaches down to Semen to bring him back to his feet, when John rolls up Redd... 1... 2... HEGOTHIM! Semen is the Champ AGAIN! John stands up and - WHAT THE HELL?!

Tad: It’s Nicky Mowse! He just slammed a chair into the back of John Semen! Mowse grabs a microphone, and he’s shouting down at Semen!

Nicky: Golly gee-willickers, Johnny! Oh Golly gosh... YOU REALLY ARE STUPID AREN’T YOU?! Did you ACTUALLY believe that that video of me being layed out was legit?! Semen, Semen, Semen... teeheehee! You know what’s fun? Playing jokes! And what a FUN joke it was when I video taped that footage an HOUR ago... and you want to know who it REALLY was under that mouse head? It wasn’t me, oh no-diddly-oh! Boys and girls in the truck... run the FULL footage!

[The Not-Titan-Tron comes on and shows Nicky stalking behind John Semen’s Dad, who just so happens to walk around backstage... Nicky slams a chair into Semen’s Dad’s back... which drops the old guy onto the ground... Nicky dresses Semen’s Dad up in a spare mouse costume, and picks him back up... before SMASHING him through a table with Nicky’s finisher, the “Mowse Trap” face plant ddt. Nicky smiles devilishly at the camera, before we head back to the live ring... where Nicky is now smiling just the same.]

Nicky: Sorry Johnny, but it looks like your daddy wasn’t able to make it to ringside to watch his favoritest boy in the whole wide world get his ASS KICKED UNMERCIFULLY!!! You wanna PLAY Johnny? You wanna PLAYYY?!

Wes: Nicky drops the mic, picks the chair back up, and lifts it into the air overhead... before CRUSHING Semen’s skull between the chair and ring floor! Nicky tosses the chair aside, and goes for the pinfall...

1...
2...
3- NO!

Wes: John Semen just kicked out! Nicky grabs Semen up, and positions him for the Mowse Trap... when Redd W. gorilla presses Goo once again, this time into Mowse, who holds Semen, sending Semen, Goo, and Mowse all falling to the mat... once again. Redd reaches down to pick up Mowse... does this guy EVER learn?!

Tad: And just like before, Redd is rolled up... but UNlike before, Redd kicks out! Mowse beats his yellow-gloved fists upon the mat in frustration.

Wes: Chicken remains the champion, for now... and we have less than ten minutes left in the main event of the evening! The clock is ticking down on the big screen...

[The clock on the Not-The-Titan-Tron is now at ‘9:10’... when suddenly... The lights shut off, with the ‘Tron remaining with its clock... the red digits begin to flash... before their color changes to lime green.]

[The numbers begin to rapidly switch... before they land on a number which is the complete opposite of what it was before...]

‘01:09’

[The now lime green clock glows intensely in the otherwise darkened arena... The clock continues to count down, from 01:09... to 01:08... to 01:07... until it reaches 01:00.]

Wes: One minute remaining?! There were nearly TEN minutes left just ten SECONDS ago!!! What’s going on here?!?!

Tad: I don’t know, but -

[BOOM!!!]

(A giant explosion of lime green pyro blasts off on the stage, and lime green sparks begin to shower down from above... “Twisted Transistor” by Korn begins to play...)

Wes: You’re kidding me!?

Tad: It’s Viruz! The winner of tonight’s “Let’s Rob a Bank” match!!!

Wes: It sure is, Tad! Viruz is storming the ring, carrying the mini-vault in his hands... Chicken runs toward Vi... but he’s dropped with the vault! Goo, Bloo, and even Nicky Mowse come after the l33t haXor, but are ALL dropped... But here comes John Semen!

Tad: Heheh... comes... Semen! GET IT?!

Wes: Oh dear lord, not another Rex...

Tad: Sorry...

Wes: John goes for a clothesline, but Vi ducks under... turns around... and hits a DEVESTATING reverse tornado ddt off the corner turnbuckle!!! The timer is down to the final five seconds...

Tad: Viruz goes for the pinfall... and he gets the one...

Clock: 00:03

Wes: Two...

Clock: 00:02

Wes & Tad: THREE!!!

Clock: 00:01

Wes: OH MY GYAAAAAD!!! With ONE second remaining, Viruz has just picked up the Xtrmkor title!!! Viruz is the very first EVER Xtrmkor champ!

Tad: Viruz stands tall with his title held gloriously in the air, and -

[WAMMO!]

Wes: Holy SHISTA! Spear from Nicky Mowse! Nicky goes for the cover... and gets the three!

Fecal: Winner, via 24/7 rule... “The Rated G StupidStar”, Nicky MOWSSSEEE!!!

Wes: This is wild!

Rex: What is?

Wes: This! ... Rex?

Rex: Yeah, I just came back from jerking it to two lesbos and a mannequin in the latest issue of PentBoy, my NEW favorite porn mag. They have EVERYTHING in there!

Wes: Plus, they’re one of Jack Hoff’s newest sponsors, right?

Rex: ... Right. But it’s still a damn good porno mag! ... But, uh, what did I miss?

Wes: Well, only about the only thing close enough to resembling a “good” match in the entire paper view!

Rex: DAMMIT! ... Aw screw it, who cares about sports entertainment when you can flog your meat missile to the HOTTEST pr0n this side of “Two MiLFs, Four Double-D Cups”!!!

Wes: Wayyy too much information... ANYWAY, Nicky Mowse is the SECOND EVER Xtrmkor champion, sports fans, and earlier tonight, new leader of the Glass Ceiling Gang, HollyRock, picked up the WSE Title!

Rex: Not to mention, my new hero, Cactus ManLove turned to the HEEL side, the BEST side, and is now the CO-leader of the GCG, alongside the HollyRock!

Wes: Plus, a bunch of other stuff happened. Let’s take a look at this video package commemorating it all ;

[insert video package commemorating it all]

Rex: ... We’re in the rushiest of all rush modes now. ALL SEGMENTS MUST GO!

Wes: So, for Rex Winters -

Rex: I thought my name was Rex Russo?

Wes: We changed it back.

Rex: Ah... alrighty then.

Wes: For Rex, this is Wes Rivers saying, thank you sports fans for wasting your time reading this bunch of drivel! I’m sure you’ll be kicking your own ass in a few seconds flat. ... Goodnight everybody!

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[WAMMO!!!!!]

[We suddenly re-open to the parking lot, where none other than “Drunk Ass” Austin Stevens has stunned Nicky Mowse with the Drunk Ass Drop! Nicky is sent through the air, and splatting against the pavement. Drunk Ass pins Nicky, and a ref comes out of nowhere to count the one, the two, and three. The ref hands Austin the Xtrmkor title, and Stevens smiles a wicken grin...]

Drunk Ass: And THAT’S the Bottom of the Ninth... cuz Sammy Sosa says so!

[Drunk Ass opens a can of beer and is about to gulp it down... when he looks down at Nicky, and continues to grin. Drunk Ass begins to pour the can’s contents down onto the face of Mowse, chuckling grimly... When the can empties to the last few drops, Austin downs what’s left, and throws the can across the lot. Austin Stevens lifts his pinkie fingers into the air, celebrating his title victory, with the strap dangling over his shoulder.]

[Drunk Ass then walks off, carrying the belt in one hand, as Mowse groans and moans on the ground... Through the shadows, Viruz creeps into the picture just as Stevens is seen dissapearing into the night. Viruz crouches down over Nicky... and wipes some of the blood off from Nicky’s forehead... before smearing it across his own chest. Viruz smirks...]

Viruz: [pats Nicky on his right cheek] Twenty-four seven, buddy... This is where it begins.

[Viruz stands, and wipes a bit of the blood off his chest with his thumb... before licking it.]

Vi: Mmm... ketchup.

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