WSE 2009 : Nitro - Ep.1

[THE Mac Bry v2]

|ad -

[The camera opens to a kitchen, where former WSE commentator, Good ol' Boom Boom Quaker, aka BBQ, is standing behind a counter, holding a bottle of barbecue sauce... Black cowboy hat resting proudly upon his head.]

BBQ: Hello there folks, this here's yer good ol' pal, Good ol' Boom Boom Quaker, an' yer watchin' The Weather Channel! You must REALLY suck! Yall know I likes me some good ol fashioned bar-bee-cue, an' I was able to pick up this here brand new bottle ah bbq saush from the local market. It's made ah gen-yoo-wine ally-gator spit, an' a hunderd percent all natural bat dung! Yall just mosey on down tah yer Wal-Mart superstore an' ya pick yerself up a bottle ah Mac Bry Industries Spit and Shit BBQ Saush! It's deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee grossest thing yall will ever eat, mmm-hmmm! Git r' dunn.

[BBQ looks at the bottle of BBQ sauce... before opening it, and chugging it like beer. ... He then slams the bottle down, and wipes his mouth clean of bat feces.]

BBQ: *belch* Ahh... good shit. Literally.

- end ad|

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+++++++++++++++++
March 27th, 2009
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[We open inside Middle of Nowhere Arena, to the desk of Wes Rivers and Rex Winters, without pyro, or theme music, or... fans. New forum, new show... same old WSE.]

Wes: Hello there, sports fans, and welcome to the first EVER edition of WSE Nitro!!! We are broadcasting LIVE (on tape) from the Middle of Nowhere Arena in Nowhere, Oklahoma! It's a new year, and it's a new era here in World Sports Entertainment. At our last event, Royal Royal 2009, Jack Hoff dropped the WSE title... and the man to pick it up? None other than Mr. Hoff's hand-selected champion, the Man they Called... Stung. And at WCWF's FINAL event, Stung and Jack Hoff led WSE to victory, crushing Vince Russo, the WCWF, and the sWo in one swift blow! Stung, leader of the most vile group of miscreants in wrestling today, is now leading a new day in this company... even though we've only had six shows to date... I'm Wes Rivers, and with me, as always, is the one and only Rex Winters!

Rex: That's Rex RUSSO, Wes. If WSE aquired the Nitro "brand" by defeating WCWF... then by golly, I say I've aquired the name Russo thanks to my man Mr. Hoff DESTROYING Vince Russo!

Wes: Why would you WANT to be called "Russo"?

Rex: BECAUSE!

Wes: ... Point taken.

Rex: Our Chairman, Jack Hoff, is ready to unleash the Main Event Mafia upon the world of Sports Entertainment!

Wes: Er, Rex... that's the GLASS CEILING GANG... not the, ahem... what you said. The Main Ev- ... Er, THEY are with those guys in Orlando, Florida...

Rex: Disney World Land?

Wes: No - Wait, Disney World LAND? First Cactus ManLove mentioned that, now you... Anyway, no. TNA.

Rex: T 'n' A? I LOVE T 'n' A! Especially when they're jigglin'!

Wes: ... And on that note, let's send it to the ring, where our NEW ring announcer, Howard Fecal, whom we aquired after we put WCWF out of business, is ready to make the first introduction...

Fecal: Hello good people of Nowhere, Oklahoma! *canned pop* Tonight is the very FIRST edition of-

Wes: Already covered that, Howie. Everyone knows this is Nitro, by now...

Fecal: Oh... well, in that case, it is with GREAT honor that I introduce to you all the man that now writes my checks... he is the owner of WSE, the backer of the Glass Ceiling Gang, and he officially signed the death certificate for the WCWF and the sWo... ladies and gentlemen... Jack... HOFFFF!!!

Speakers:
Sweat pants, that's what I got!
Wear em all night and all day long
Just so I have somethin to make up this dumb song
Pump it!
Pumpin up the jam
Make me a samich on wheat or white bread
Make sure the middle is ham, cuz I got
Sweat pants! Sweat pants in hell, that's what I got...
Sweat pants! Sweat pants in hell, and it's really hot!

[As Jack's theme continues to play, the Hoffster swaggers through the curtains, swinging his flabby arms to and fro'... And as he stands mid-ramp, he stops, turns around, and faces the entrance... Jack's theme fades out, replaced by the deep voice of a cheap James Earl Jones knock-off...]

Speakers:
You have two choices.
Job to us. Or lose yours.
Welcome to the top floor...

Rex: Wow... when did we hire Darth Vader?

Wes: I don't think that's Darth Vader, Rex... probably just a cheap knock-off.

(I totally just said that about five seconds ago...)

Wes: Whoops, sorry there Narrator.

[:rollseyes: Anyway, "Epic" by Faith No More hits, and the curtains part, as four men step through. King Sucka, a black man draped in a robe with a crown upon his head, with his hair in long dreadlocks... Anti-Christ Cage, with a short, blonde crew cut, wearing long black tights with silver, upside-down crucifixes... Wright Angle, pro wrestling's ONLY Olympic Table Tennis Gold Medal Winner (maybe... who cares?)... and the leader of the Glass Ceiling Gang, the Past Tense One, the new World Sports Entertainment Champion, and the One Chosen by Chairman Hoff... the Man they CALLED... Stung.]

[The Glass Ceilling Gang, along with the Boss Hog -

Jack: Hey, don't call me a hog!

[Sorry... uhm, along with the Boss... Cat? ... How about the Top Cat?]

Jack: I LOVED that cartoon! "He's the chief, he's the king, but above everything, he's the most tip top - Top Cat!"

[... Yup. Anyway, Jack and the boys stride down the ramp, refusing to slap hands with the fans... which is alright, I suppose, seeing as there aren't any...]

Rex: Not even a jam-packed arena tonight. We couldn't get the jelly delievery boy to drop even ONE cart off to take up the seat space.

Wes: I don't blame him. There were so many empty seats at Royal Royal '09 that the poor guy had to spend the entire week before the show just placing boxes of jam in the chairs. I hope the guy got a good bonus out of that...

Rex: I couldn't care less if the shmuck was fired by now. As long as I keep getting payed to make fun of you and the geeks in the ring, then dude, I am SET.

Wes: You're heartless, cold, and uncaring, Rex.

Rex: Not having emotions helps when I get dumped by some dumb chick.

Wes: Which I'm sure is a constant occurence when it comes to you and those of the female persuasion...

Rex: Pretty much.

Wes: You're... agreeing?

Rex: Yup. I'm totally chick repellent, man.

Wes: ... Ok... And now to the ring, as the Glass Ceiling Gang is ready to kick off the big show.

Rex: I didn't know Paul Wight was ON! Hooo-BOY do I still got it or WHAT?!

Wes: Signs point to "what".

Rex: Aw, shut up...

Jack Hoff: Hello ladies and men who look like ladies! And welcome... to the REBIRTH of Nitro!!! First of all, I'd like to say hello to all of the Galaxians out there in eWzine-ville!

Rex: Galaxians?

Wes: Brawlers on a Budget's old term for "fans". They dropped it, so WSE has picked it up and ran with it!

Rex: ... And I'm clueless as to why...

Jack: Now, all you morons know by now that a new regime has taken order! The Glass Ceiling has been constructed, and all those below it are looking up, tryin' tah get to OUR level! And tonight... is their chance to reach that plateau. Tonight... in THIS very city of Nowhere... I, your esteemed Chairman, will be presenting the first EVER... Nowhere Street Fight! And unlike those crappy street fights in companies like that one in Stamford, Connecticut... this one really IS taking place in the streets! It's gonna be a city-wide rumble, throwing all of the boys in the lockeroom out into busy highways and various establishments ah this here metropolis.

Jack: The way this Nowhere Street Fight is gonna work is really simple. Almost EVERYONE on the roster will be involved, including backstage interviewer Rat Bore, and our new ring announcer, Howard Fecal.

Fecal: ... I wasn't aware of this?

Jack: Of course you weren't. You wouldn't have come out here otherwise!

Fecal: ... You bastard.

Jack: Thanks for the compliment! Anyway, Wes and Rex will not be participating, as they will continue to run commentary throughout the match. Cactus ManLove and myself will be sitting this out, seeing as we both took an oath to not compete as sports entertainers. And of course, Stung will not be entered... as the winner of this 40 man city-wide rumble WILL face him in two weeks, at the grandest stage of them all, the First Anniversary of WrestleNymphoMania 69!!!

Wes: Uhm... won't it be the FIRST WrestleNymphoMania 69?

Jack: Well, yeah? I thought the first year something was around, that counted as an anniversary?

Wes: ... No? That makes absolutely NO sense... sir.

Jack: Hm... well, tell that to Vince McMahon. He apparently thinks this is the 25th anniversary of Wrestlemania, despite the fact that it IS the 25th Wrestlemania. That would make NEXT year's Wrestlemania the 25th anniversary, wouldn't it?

Wes: Of course...

Jack: Just checking. Anyway, the forty different entrants in this contest will battle throughout the city, with only pinfalls counting for eliminations, until there is but one man standing. And that man shall face MY champion, Stung, at WrestleNymphoMania 69, for the WSE Title... in a triple cage match!!!~!1

Wes: Amazing!

Rex: Brilliant!

Jack: Thank you, thank you...

Rex: Do we get our bonuses now?

Jack: Haha, no. Everyone has been positioned in designated venues of the city, and are all awaiting the signal... Oh, and Howard? Just so you know...

[Suddenly, a loud alarm is sounded, as video shows that all around the city, this alarm has set the StupidStars of WSE into sports entertaining ACTION! Back at the Middle of Nowhere, Jack is standing over the body of Howard Fecal, who has been soundly trounced by Sucka, Cage, and Angle, with Stung smiling silently in the background. Wright Angle pins Fecal, gets the three, and Jack gets back on the microphone...]

Jack: As I was saying... Just so you know, Howie... the signal is... well, WAS, that alarm. ... Hm. Maybe I shoulda told you sooner? Sorry about that.

Wes: I can't BELIEVE this madness! Mr. Hoff has DESTROYED our new colleague, Howard Fecal!

Rex: The three members of the Glass Ceiling Gang involved with this match are heading backstage... can we get a camera back there PLEASE!

[As if by some stroke of luck, a camera comes in from the back... yeah, I'm sure THAT wasn't planned... Anyway, Wright Angle is seen leading Anti-Christ Cage and King Sucka to the back... where they meet up with Rat Bore.]

Mike: Hey there, hi there, ho there! I am one wild and kerrr-azy guy, if you know what I saying!

Wright: ... I'M A WRASSLIN' MACHINE!!!

[Wright quickly hops behind Rat, and snaps off about half a dozen or so german suplexes on the cold concrete... Rat Bore is left a motionless heap. Cage and Sucka get a few strikes in, before lifting up the interviewer, and holding him by the arms... Wright smiles a sadistic smirk... before reeling back, and jack slapping the poor moron / idiot. ]

Wright: Drink your milk, bucko! WOOO! And by the way...

[Wright quickly boots Rat in the testicles, sending him clutching his nuts on the ground...]

Wright: GET SOME BALLS! ... BALLS! BALLS! BALLS! I LIKE SAYIN' BALLS!

King Sucka: We don't say such things in MY country! Whether "my country" is England or Jamaica, or the Planet Zebes, I really have no clue. I change accents so much, it gets to the point that I can't remember how my real voice actually sounds. Maybe I'm Australian, who knows. ... DAWG! ... Mate?

[Wright pins Rat Bore...]

1...

2...

...

Seriously? Like there's any doubt he get's the three? Are you friggin' KIDDING me?

[The Glass Ceiling Gang heads to their lockeroom... I guess they've decided to spend the rest of the show eating donuts and playing video games, until there's only one other guy left, and then they plan on having Wright pin that guy so he can go on to face Stung in a rigged match.]

Jack Hoff: DAMMIT NARRATOR! What did I say about giving away the endings?!

[... Whoopsie. ]

Jack Hoff: Sunnuva- GO TO COMMERCIAL!

- ads -

Wes: Welcome back sports fans! The action is in progress, and has been raging on during the break!

Rex: A few jobbers have been eliminated ALREADY... Justin Appropriate, Tom E. Mailer, The Milkman, Yahu!, and "Mr. Every Other Night" Dan Van Ram were all eliminated when The World's Sexiest Chocolate Man ate a stick of dynamite, and then blew 'em away with a HUUUGE fart, which you may have even called "explosive".

Wes: A disgusting display of strength. Strong wind, anyway...

Rex: R-Kwik was making a supposedly "grand entrance" near a record store in downtown Nowhere, making not only an entrance into the match, but debuting his new single, "WAZZZAP!!!". We've got footage of that development...

(A replay shows of R-Kwik hopping out through the front door of the record store, with a rap beat in the background, as gathered fans are... waiting in line for the new "Vanilla Hamer" album to arrive. What, did you expect them to be fans of WSE? Ch'yeah, right... R-Kwik contiously shouts into a microphone the "lyrics" to his song - )

R-Kwik: WAZAP! WAZZAP!! WAZZZAP~!!!

["Da Next Big Animal", Bobby Batista BrockBerg comes up from behind R-Kwik, and taps him on the shoulder. R-Kwik turns around, and looks up at the behemoth... taking in an exagerrated "oh shit" kinda gulp.]

R-Kwik: Uhh... Wa... Wazzap?

Bobby: YOU'RE NEXT!!!

[BrockBerg suddenly boots R-Kwik in the gut, causing the crappy rapper to drop his microphone. BrockBerg tosses R-Kwik between his legs... BrockBerg then raises both of his thumbs, both of them pointing up... before slowly turning them downward.]

Wes: He's signaling for it!

Rex: ... Signaling for what?

Wes: His MOVE!

Rex: What's that, jacking himself up on steroids?

Wes: ... Not exactly.

[BrockBerg lifts R-Kwik up over head, before positioning him for a variation of the "Razor's Edge". The term "variation" being wrestling jargon for "cheap knock-off". BrockBerg then brings K-Kwik... errr, I mean, R-Kwik, colliding with the concrete surrounding the record store building.]

Wes: He calls it "The Needle's Point"!

Rex: ... Wow. A wrestling move named after steroid needles. What's next, a variation of Homicide's Gringo Killer called "The Pain Killer"?

Wes: Well, as a matter of fact, BrockBerg uses a full nelson submission hold named EXACTLY that.

Rex: ... Point made.

[BrockBerg pins R-Kwik, and gets the fall. We then return to live action... or, well, not live ACTION, more like Wes and Rex sitting at the commentary table in an empty arena. ...]

Wes: What an amazing elimination that was!

Rex: Not very... But hey, atleast it sets up the following -

[Rex stands up and tosses his headset onto the announce table, and grabs a microphone. He turns to Wes, who's looking at Rex with a bewildered expression...]

Wes: What in the hell is your problem?

Rex: MY problem? What's MY problem? You wanna know what MY problem is?!

Wes: ... Would I have asked otherwise? Not very bright, are you?

Rex: SHUT UP. And listen. A couple of weeks back, Chairman Hoff was holding a meeting. And AT that meeting -

Wes: Wait, I don't remember any meeting? ... Are you SURE there was a mee-

Rex: ANYWAY... At the meeting, some of the members of the board were ragging on me. And what did YOU do?! You did NOTHING!

Wes: How am I supposed to do anything at a meeting I didn't even know existed?

Rex: ... REGARDLESS! You betrayed our friendship, Wes! You didn't say anything, and that was like a slap in MY face! And THAT... that, is MY problem! So from now on? Wes Rivers, you can just take this microphone, and stick it straight up your-

- ads -

[We return from an ad for "Soap in the Mouth", the soap specifically designed to stick in your bratty kid's curse-word spewin' mouth. Which is, basically, a regular bar of soap, only with the word "F*CK" printed across the front. Which is what the kid who gets this product shoved down their throat must be thinking...]

[Rex is now sitting back at the commentary desk, with his headset on.]

Wes: Way to pull off a Don West, Rex...

Rex: Hey! I didn't run off in the middle of the show!

Wes: I didn't mean THAT. I meant, you, a commentator, a usual non factor in storylines, have managed to turn HEEL... for little to no apparent reason whatsoever at all. Great job.

Rex: BURN!

Wes: You just told yourself you got burned?

Rex: ... Back to the action!

[We return to the fallen R-Kwik, who is laying motionless beside the record store... with KYJ (Kris Y. Jeriko) standing over him. KYJ places a boot atop R-Kwik's chest, and laughs to himself. He then shouts to nobody in particular...]

KYJ: As you all know, a short while ago, a movie was produced, called "The Jobber".

Rex: ... Never heard of it.

Wes: Really? It starred wrestler turned actor, Brock Hendrix, as Penn Mee Easily, crappy actor, turned crappy wrestler.

Rex: It was a direct-to-video release, right?

Wes: ... Right.

Rex: Thought so.

KYJ: Well, "The Jobber" gave me an idea. For a guy to get anywhere in this business, he has to DEFEAT jobbers... and not BE a jobber! Because jobbers? They don't get anywhere in this business... hence the term "jobber". And that's why, at WrestleNymphoMania, I'm going to challenge ANY jobber, whether they be an old jobber, a young jobber, a fat jobber, a skinny jobber, a short jobber, or even The Great Jobber-li! And I'm going to PIN that jobber... or my name isn't KYJ - Kris Y. Jeriko!

[Suddenly, a wig is thrown at Jeriko's back. An AFRO wig. KYJ turns around, to find a midget in a leprechaun outfit pointing and laughing. KYJ goes to grab ahold of the little fucker... named Lil' Fucker, coincidentally... when from behind, SPAM! grabs Jeriko, spins him around, and rears back a fist... Jeriko cowers, but it's too late, because -

WAMMO!

[Uppercut to the sack from the sawed off shrimp, Lil' Fucker, from behind. Because let's face it, the only time jobbers get in a lick of offense is when they attack from behind. Of course, the effects of this uppernut don't last very long, as Jeriko quickly turns around, powerbombs Lil' Fucker ontop of the afro wig... named Afro Wig Cool... and places a boot on top of the midget's chest, picking up the one, two, three. Jeriko celebrates, with the midget, the wig, and the crappy rapper all layed out near eachother. SPAM! has but one word ; ]

SPAM! : SHI-

- ads -

[We return, back to the Middle of Nowhere Arena, with the camera positioned in front of Wes Rivers and Rex Winters...]

Wes: Back from ads, and folks, can you believe the action that's went down so far?

Rex: Pretty much, yeah... Nothing too special about-

Wes: ME EITHER!

Rex: ...

Wes: We are now down to 30 men, all of whom continue to wage war throughout the streets and buildings of Nowhere, Oklahoma! We'll soon continue the action, but I have word from Chairman Hoff that he would like to take some time to address the WSE sports fans!

[The Not-The-Titan-Tron fills with the face of Chairman Hoff, in his usual beer-stained shirt, sitting behind his mahogany desk...]

Jack: Hello, all you crack monkeys out there! I know all you blood thirsty creeps are looking forward to more SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT~1 action, but before we get back to the stuff that doesn't COMPLETELY suck... here's a bunch of dancing girls with no actual talent who may or may not be a group of cheap hookers I found in some sleazy bar! ... And no, former Nitro Girl Fyre is NOT one of them. For this lot of ladies are NOT the Nitro Girls... they make those talentless bimbos seem like gutter trash! No, for in fact, THIS group of talentless bimbos is a group I like to call... the Nitrous Oxide Girls!!! They're a MUCH higher class of trash!

[The camera heads to the ring, where seven, REALLY skanky looking women are dancing for noone's amusement. Well, except for Rex's...]

Rex: WOO-HOO! PUPPIES!!!

Wes: Actually, I don't see anyone named Puppies on my list... Though, I do see Tittles, Tah-tahz, Breasty, Busty, Boobsie, Juggy, and Funnbaggz... and it appears as if Funnbaggz is the 60 year old with the horrible case of drooping breasts...

Rex: So what if they're drooping?! Puppies is puppies, and I... see... PUPPIES!!!!~!1a

Wes: Ugh...

Rex: In fact I see 14 of 'em! It's just that two of them are hanging a little lower than the rest... a little bit wrinkled... but WOO-HOO!!!

Wes: You're incorrigible...

Rex: I don't know what THAT means, but I DO know that there's some sexy ladies in the ring!

Wes: Not exactly what I'd call "sexy"... one of them appears to be 7 months pregnant, and another's... another's in a WHEELCHAIR for christ sakes! With NO LEGS!!!

Rex: ... PUPPIES!!!

Wes: *smacks forehead* Fellas in the truck, PLEASE, send it back to the wrestling...

Rex: SPORTS ENTERTAINING!

Wes: WHATEVER!

[Suddenly, Jack returns on-screen.]

Jack: HOW DARE YOU!

Wes: ... Huh? Who are you talking to Jack?

Jack: That's MR. HOFF!!! ... And I'm talking to YOU! How DARE you say "whatever" to the term "sports entertaining"! You will NOT take Sports Entertainment's name in vain!!!~1a

Wes: ... What the-

Jack: YOU'RE FIRED!!!

Wes: WHAT?! Jack, I'm the only commentator you have that's RESPONSIBLE!

Jack: I don't NEED "responsible"! I NEED ENTERTAINING! And DAMMIT Wes, you're just... you're just plain GENERIC! So, it is with THAT in mind... that I introduce you to your replacement...

["Boomer Sooner" hits, and canned cheering can be heard, as Wes Rivers just about has a seizure. As Good ol' Boom Boom Quaker comes to the table, Wes, wrought with rage, begins to throw things around and bang on the desk. Finally BBQ arrives, having waved at the non-existant fans for about fifteen minutes straight... BBQ stares Wes dead in the eyes.]

Wes: YOU OKLAHOMA BASTARD!!! You can't replace me! I'm already replaced! You can't replace me! I'm already replaced!

BBQ: ... Bah... Gawd? ... Y'alright there, son?

Wes: ... TO HELL WITH YOU, YA DAMN REDNECK RETARD! And to hell with this whole damn company! I QUIT!

[Wes walks away, as Jack is left scratching his head on the big screen... As Wes steps through the curtains for the last time, Jack asks a question to himself, puzzled...]

Jack: He... DOES know that you can't really "quit" after you've just been FIRED... right?

[Jack just shakes his head, and the Not-The-Titan-Tron fades out, as the camera goes to the commentary position, where Rex "Russo" is sitting next to his new partner, Boom Boom Quaker, Good ol' BBQ...]

Rex: ... I hate you.

BBQ: Business has JUST picked up!

Rex: ...

[Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga is standing in a local coffee shop, and Rat Bore just so happens to be there... for... SOME reason... with a microphone.]

Rocky: FINALLY... Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga... has-come-BACK... to a generic coffee shop!

Rat: Hey there guy! You likey strudels?

Rocky: ... Do you like... PIE?

Rat: Good times!

Rocky: So, let the Samoan Superfly get this STRAIGHT... YOU replaced Mike Stand as backstage interviewer? Is Rocky correct?

Rat: Okie doke!

Rocky: Let Rocky ask you one question, just ONE... question. ... What in the TURQUOISE hell happened to Mike "The Tool" Stand?

Rat: He dead. ... Happy day!

Rocky: ... Rocky says you killed him.

Rat: No.

Rocky: Yes.

Rat: No!

Rocky: Yes!

Rat: NO!

Rocky: NO!

Rat: I know! Is good!

Rocky: ... Wait, wait, wait, WAIT! Rocky says YOU were supposed to say "yes", and then Rocky was SUPPOSED to be able to say "a-ha!"

Rat: I smart man, no?

Rocky: Rocky says... no. ... IF YA SMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEElllllllllalalalalalalalalala... what Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga...

Rat: ...

Rocky: ...

Rex: ... That was... stupid.

BBQ: BAH GAWD AS MUH WITNESS, that segment was half stupid and half broken... IN HALF!!!

Rex: ... CAN WE PLEASE RETURN TO THE SPORTS ENTERTAINING?! ... PLEASE?!?!

[Kris Y. Jeriko is STILL celebrating his elimination of Afro Wig Cool, R-Kwik, and Lil' Fucker... when he notices SPAM! staring at him.]

KYJ: What are YOU lookin' at, JUNIOR?! Hm?! Wanna piece ah the Ayatollah of Granola?!

SPAM! : ...

KYJ: THAT'S IT! I challenge your three jobber BUDDIES layin' on the ground all aboot here, to a three on one handicap match! And face it... THEY'RE the ones with the handicap. Because THEY'RE jobbers... AND I'M NOT!

SPAM! : ... FUC-

BBQ: BAH GAWD, folks, there ya has it! At WrassleNymphoMania 69, it's gunna be KYJ, vs three of the lowliest, loserly, jobberin' jobbers in all ah jobberdom! And in their corner?

Rex: DAMN! ... I mean, SPAM!

BBQ: AND SPAM! WITH THE DOMINATRIX BUSTER!

Rex: Do you have to scream EVERYTHING? ... Seriously?

BBQ: SPAM! goes for the pin, and GETS IT! BUT... just as he gall darn gets up, faster than a two dollar steak house hooker, he's slammed to the ground bah that der dominatin' bohemoth known as BROCKBERG! BROCKBERG! BAH GAWD. BROCKBERG!!!~!1a

Rex: Ugh, I can tell sitting next to you is going to be an even worse experience than being partnered with Wes Rivers. I almost... MISS that guy...

...

Rex: ALMOST!

BBQ: BrockBerg goes for the pin on the jobber, ERRrrr, I mean that der SPAM! samich... and he GETS THE PIN!

Rex: Was there any doubt?

[BrockBerg grabs some microphone that just so happened to be there. He then stares into the camera's lens...]

BB: ARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Me want match WrestleNymphoMania 69!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Me want CRUSH skull! Me want MAIM flesh! ME WANT BREAK BONE! Me want half off with purchase of order over sixty dollar! ... GAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

BBQ: BAH GOOD GAWD!!!

Rex: What? All the guy did was say he wanted a match, nothing too "GOD GOD" worthy about-

BBQ: I just bought me a lock ah William Shatner's bah gawd hair on that der eBay!

Rex: Wow. You DO know that's a toupee... right?

BBQ: WHAT?! Ain't no way! That der ain't no bah gawd rug! That der's the REAL DEAL!!!

Rex: Sure. Just like the fighting here in WSE isn't staged, and the rivals REALLY hate eachother.

BBQ: Yeah? And your point?

Rex: ...

[Bobby Batista BrockBerg roars, demanding someone offer themselves up as a WrestleNymphoMania opponent... when the American Male, Redd W. Bloo, steps out of nowhere, facing off with "Da Next Big Animal"...]

Redd: Well ya wanna know somethin' mean gene! You want a match, dude?! You want a match BROTHER?! WOOOOO! Well JACK, tonight's your lucky night, bro-han! Cuz I have the pecs that makes all the girlies SQUEAL! I've got the muscles that make ALLLL the men jealous! I walk up and down the wheat fields of this great nation, displaying my fine physique, so that this country's fine, up-standing citizizens may have something to shoot for! I AM America! And I AM... the ONLY SECONDARY CHAMPION THAT MATTERS! HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! DIG IT!

[BrockBerg and RWB continue glare one another down, when from out of nowhere, Goo the Adventurer and Jippy Jam the Jumpin' Jughead, two MUCH smaller men, attack both Redd and Bobby from behind. But of course, their attacks feel like nothing more than a flyswatter on the leathery skin of a crocodile to these two mastadons...]

BBQ: Look at those two hosses splatter Goo all over the ground... and Jippy falls like a Jap beneath the feet of Godzilla!

Rex: Are you racist?

BBQ: No, but if ya hum a few bars, I can fake it!

Rex: ... I'd like to know on what planet that even makes a BIT of sense...

[After decimating Goo and Jippy, and subsequently pinning the both of them, Redd and BrockBerg turn back towards eachother...]

[... when from out of nowhere, again, Redd and BrockBerg are attacked, again, from behind... again.]

BBQ: It's Rey Mysteriotypical, and The Face Paintin', Paint Sniffin', Paint Drinkin', Painted Painter, Enigma Charismatic!!!

Rex: The guy looks like he was just dropped in the world's largest bucket of glowing, neon paint! Is his hair dyed, or is that just MORE paint?!

BBQ: Bah GAWD, Redd and BrockBerg are just ah-poundin' on the two half pints like there ain't no dang blasted tah-marrow! Redd BLASTS lil' ol' Rey with the Old Glory clothesline, sendin' the lil' guy flippin' 'round 'bout half a dozen times! BrockBerg breaks every bone in Enigma Charismatic's body with the BAH DAWG "Performance Enhanced Drop"!!! These lil' whippersnappers are out like a dang ol' light! And the two mammoth men go for the pin cover...

1...
2...
3. Welp. THAT was academic...

Rex: And after another two shorties, Redd W. and Bobby Batista are back at it, staring eachother down, nose to nose...

BBQ: BAH GAWD, it's PC Punk, the Politically Correct StupidStar!!! AND right behind him, it's good ol' Luscious Mayweather Nocturnal Oxford Portman!!!

Rex: Yes, LMNOP, the MVP of GED's! ... Yeah, might have to work on that one...

BBQ: But of course, just like that der Goo, an' Jippy, an' Rey-Rey, an' Enigma before 'em, PC an' LMNOP go down in a blaze ah... well, not glory... maybe barbecue saush?

Rex: Sure. ANYWAY, Two counts of three later, and we're back at square one, with both big men locking into the DRAMATIC~!!! Look of Intensity (tm)

[Redd looks as if he's about to go for an attack... when from out of nowhere, the manager of the World's Sexiest Chocolate Man, none other than Rhanjin Alejandro Daivairi, attacks Redd from behind. Redd turns around... and as soon as he does, he's attacked from behind YET AGAIN, this time from the World's Sexiest Chocolate Man, who just finished dropping BrockBerg with the Hershey Slam. WSCM lifts Redd into an elevated gorilla press... before bringing him down, chest first, over his knee. WSCM then drags BrockBerg over near Redd, and pins both of them with ONE finger to each of their chest... and gets the three!!!]

Rex: Well, it seems as if those two have met their match. After jobbing out SIX men, with little to no effort, Redd W. Bloo and Bobby Batista BrockBerg now know what it feels like to be CRUSHED in a matter of seconds!

BBQ: Mmm... a blaze of barbee-cue saush... Sounds like GOOOOD EATIN'!

Rex: ... Yeah. Anywayyy, The World's Sexiest Chocolate Man is standing tall above the American Male and Da Next Big Animal... proving his dominance... And proving you don't need talent, skill, or even a brain to make it in THIS business! ... Wait, that didn't come out right... God I hope he didn't hear that...

[WSCM stands not only above Redd and BrockBerg, but a pile of six other bodies... Suddenly, he feels a tap on his shoulder. WSCM turns around, and comes face to face with The Big Red Nosed Monster, Klown!]

Klown: *beeps his plastic, red nose*

WSCM: You don't scare me! NO clown scares the World's Sexiest Chocolate Man! I'll split you right down to the creamy pie fillin', ya make-up wearin' FREAK!

Klown: *sprays a seltzer bottle in WSCM's face, before pointing and laughing*

WSCM: WHY YOU LITTLE!!!

[WSCM begins to strangle Klown, ala Homer Simpson's numerous choke-outs of his son, Bart. WSCM then hits the Hershey Slam, and goes for the pin, with Rhanjin sitting on WSCM's back for extra weight...]

1...2... 2 and a half... THREE!

[The World's Sexiest Chocolate Man then stands, and grabs a microphone... the microphone engulfed in his huge, coal miner's glove-like hand...]

WSCM: I challenge all nine ah these here SHRIMPS tah a match at WressleNymphoMania! And it's gonna be on like a pot ah neckbone, SUCKA!

King Sucka: I do say, you're stealing my bit... SUCKAAA!!!

WSCM: And-

[Rhanjin Daivari grabs the microphone, and speaks, looking into the camera.]

RAD: AND... it's going to be for a shot at the World Sports Entertainment WORLD Heavyweight Title... of the WORLD!!! And the rules? Well, let me just put it this way... it's going to be a FIRST. The first EVER "Let's Rob a Bank" Match!!! All ten men will enter the First National Bank of Nowhere, with each of them wearing ski masks... and then all of the people in the bank will be held hostage! All the hostages will be tied up and gathered into a sack, with the sack being thrown into the vault. A MINI vault will be suspended up from the ceiling... with the only way to get to it being to find the hidden slip of paper containing the combination to the BANK's vault, and to then open the bag of hostages, and to force them, somehow, to form a ladder to the mini-vault!!! And THEN... when one man, MY man, grabs the mini-vault, they will be able to use that mini-vault to claim a future shot at the WSE Title!!!

WSCM: Wait... I thought it was just gonna be some battle royal? I didn't know about all this "climb a ladder made outta people" mess! You 'spect me tah be able to climb up a buncha people without fallin' off an' breakin' mah NECK?! ... You CRAZY ah sumpin'?!

RAD: TRUST me, Sexy, it's all in the bag, ok babe?

WSCM: What... the people? Yeah, I heard ya, they're all gonna be in a bag! You callin' me DEAF?!

RAD: ... Just... Just pin me. Leave the thinking to me, alright? Now, pin me so you can go on and take out the rest of these cretins!

WSCM: ... The hell's a "cretin"? Is that like a "crouton" ah sumpin'? Cuz them thangs is TASTY!

RAD: ...

[Rhanjin lays down, and Chocolate Man gets the easy pin... but as he stands back up, a pipe is thrusted into the back of his skull, bringing him down to his knees...]

BBQ: IT'S THE BIG HO!!! The 8 foot, 500 pound transexual is HERE! And he's got an ATTITUDE!!!

Rex: Yeah. A GAY attitude... I do NOT need to see a guy THAT big in drag... Crap, I don't need to see ANY guy in drag!

[The Big Ho grabs ahold of WSCM by the throat... before lifting him up, and bringing him crashing down with a VICOUS chokeslam!!! The Big Ho goes for the pin... and gets the one, the two, AND the three, eliminating the Chocolatey Giant from the Nowhere Street Fight. Ho lifts a mighty fist into the air, growling with delight over his conquest.]

BBQ: Well folks, we're now down to seventeen, and virtually ANYONE could walk outta this har thing and into a match against the champ, Stung!

Rex: Welll... except for the guys who... you know, aren't IN the match anymore.

BBQ: ... All that an' less, NEXT!

- ads -

[We return to the Middle of Nowhere Arena, with the action still raging on in the streets of Nowhere... but here in the arena, Good ol' BBQ is downing a bottle of barbecue sauce, and Rex Russo is scoping the net on his laptop, looking for "barely 18" porn sites... With the commentator's distracted, "Sweat Pants in Hell" hits, and Jack Hoff... doesn't walk down. Well, he DID already appear once tonight, do you really expect him to get off his fat ass again and walk ALLLL the way to the ring? Instead, his ugly mug appears on the Not-The-Titan-Tron...]

Jack: Ladies and men who look like ladies, I'd like to, at this time, send down a representative of mine... along with a lawyer. They will have a HUUUGE announcement for all you shmucks... I've got business to take care of. ... Namely, sitting here on my rump, playing the X-Station Portable. Metal Sheers Not-Quite-Solid is calling to me! ... Send out the monkey!

(A rabid monkey runs into the ring, takes a piss on Howard Fecal's shoe, and then scampers away. BBQ and Rex are still unaware of anything going on... as the speakers begin to vibrate with a noise...)

Speakers: IT'S TIME TO JOB TO THE MANGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!

[Triple S walks out, bottle of gatorade in hand (it has ELECTROLYTES!). Behind him is a suit, who holds a few sheets of paper. The two men step into the ring, and TripS grabs a microphone.]

SSS: Alrighty-ah... Me and my big honkin' shnozzola just flew in from Samich, Connecticut, and BOY are my arms tired!

*crickets*

SSS: Uh... ok. ANYWAY... The Mang-ah, the Cerebellum Assistant, the... uh... I'M THAT DAMN... mediocre... !!!!!!!!!!! *takes a sip of gatorade, spits it in the air... but chokes on a bit, and coughs some* Damn that stuff is sour... I TOLD Jack not to buy the lemonade flavored shit... This here suit and tie wearing asshole is here to help me introduce all of you MARKS to something SPECTACULAR! Something... THAT... DAMN... GOOD! It's wonderful, it's splendid, it's awesome... it's even better than having the entire company handed to you on a silver platter just because you're banging the boss's daughter!

SSS: ...

SSS: ALMOST.

SSS: Mr. A Lawyer, why don't you place those papers down on this table, and call out the people we're all just DYING to meet!

[The attorney does so, and accepts TripS' microphone.]

A Lawyer: Ahem... ladies and gentlemen, pleace allow me to introduce you to a man that brought into WSE a show entitled "Saturday Morning Breakfast"... before it was cancelled without even officially making it to the air. He goes by many names... asshole... bastard... dickface... hosebrain... gack breath... But only ONE is on his birth certificate. He is the messiah of Extreme...ly crappy wrestling. He is so hardcore that he sleeps on a bed of NAILS... toe nails, that is. Ladies and gentlemen... Paul ... HE-MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!

["This Is Eggstream" by Dick Dale hits. Paul He-Man waddles out to the ring with a microphone wrapped in barbedwire.]

Paul: Ladies and gentlejerks, it is fair to say that WSE has just gotten EGGSTREAM! Allow me to introduce the megapower, the icon, the ball crushingly hardcore MONSTER... he IS the holder of the Mondo Title... Sid Viscous!

["China White" by The Scorpions hits. Sid Viscous walks out, holding the Eggstream Mondo Championship... He makes his way down the ramp, chokeslams a fan through the chest of another fan, and gets in the ring.]

Sid: I was a HUGE star in Japan! I was a HUGE star in Puerto Rico! HELL I even main evented shows in France! I came to WSE for the money, and when I got here I saw that it was just a piece of crap! It's a different kettle of fish to being the superduperstar I was overseas... but I AM the king! The new brand in WSE, Egg Fried Noodles, is disturbingly brutal and pants wettingly hardcore... and all the competitors are knitted together. So I have no problem being the MAN... ... who knows his onions enough to be the guy that kills them all and holds the top title forever! Knock yourself out, Nitro, trying to top the death defying attempts at jobbing to me on EFN. I AM the lady killer, the knuckle sandwich dealing knucklehead, the labor of love Sid Viscous... and nobody can stop me!

[Then Triple S grabs the mic.]

SSS: You think NOBODY can stop YOU?! HA! Don't make me LAUGH!

A Lawyer: Well, technically, sir, you just DID laugh...

SSS: PETICURE TO A LAWYER!

A Lawyer: Wha-

[TripS drops A Lawyer with his move, the devestating Peticure. A Lawyer is now nothing more than a stain on the mat... to add to the many others arlready painting the canvas.]

SSS: Now that THAT'S out of the way... *SSS turns to Sid, and gets in his face, so the two are nose to nose... a staredown for the AGES~!!!* You... HAM AND EGGER! You... CURTAIN JERKER! You're NOTHING compared to the awe-inspiring magnificence of THE most destructive force in this business... no, not just me... but THIS-

[TripS pulls a sledge hammer out of his ass, literally, and holds it up to Sid's eyes. Sid laughs, reaches down, and pulls a length of barbedwire covered in superglue up out of his urethra. He holds it up in deffiance to Triple S's sledgehammer. Triple S' eyes narrow into slants... before he smiles. TripS drops the hammer, and reaches into his mouth... and begins to pull out a chain...]

-thirty minutes later-

[TripS FINALLY finishes pulling out the chain, somewhere in the vicinity of a mile long... TripS then drops the chain. ... And goes to pulling something ELSE from his throat... TripS has finished removing the chain, in addition to a long hook on a rope, a lasso, an anchor, and about fifty or so colorful handkerchiefs tied together. TripS then grabs the microphone.]

SSS: Beat THAT!

[Sid Viscous smiles and goes for a chokeslam, but Triple S counters out and lands on his feet. Sid holds his hands on his hips and laughs.]

Sid: I'm quaking in my boots!

[He reaches down towards his crotch again when Paul He-Man stops him.]

Paul: Stop! You've proved your point!

[Sid chokeslams Paul He-Man onto the barbedwire he pulled out of his penis before turning back to Triple S. He poses for a few seconds before reaching up and peeling off his own ear. He throws it at Triple S before reaching into the open wound and pulling out a cartoonish gun. He points it at Triple S and pulls the trigger, only for a big flag reading 'bang' to pop out.]

Sid: I'm the ruggedly handsome, roman shower giving, sacrificial lamb making seventies icon! You want some of Sid Viscous? Come get some!!!

[Triple S just grabs a chair, that wasn't there a few minutes ago, and breaks Sid's nose.]

SSS: HA! Everyone knows that the nose is the most important organ of the body! Now YOURS has been crushed under the power of my brute force!

A Lawyer: *finally making it back to his feet* Er... Mr. S? The nose ISN'T an organ... See, a heart IS an organ, because it's INSIDE the body, while the nose is on the OUTSIDE, and-

SSS: PETICURE TO A LAWYER!

A Lawyer: Not this again-

(A Lawyer goes down once again, and TripS grabs the microphone, while Sid grabs at his nose... blood trickling down.)

SSS: NOBODY... And the Mang-ah means NOBODY... makes ME job... I make everyone ELSE job! Because EVERYONE... jobs to ME!!! Before tonight's done, even the Glass Ceiling Gang will have to job to me, when I run right through Wright Angle, Anti-Christ Cage, AND King Sucka on MY way to becoming the #1 contender to their leader, Stung's world title! And when WrestleNymphoMania 69 is done? I'll be the champion!!! And not the champion of that rinky dink little title YOU hold, what is it... The Mongoloid Title?! No, I'll hold the ONLY TITLE THAT MATTERS... The World Sports Entertainment Title! Because I'm the best damn good there is, the best damn good there was, and the best damn good there ever will BE! So, you wake up your little boss there... so he can sign this paper and make your little show an official brand of WSE. But you just realize THIS... you'll NEVER be able to stand on the same stage as ME, Sid VEGETABLE!

Rex Russo: Sheesh... talk about lame jokes. Leave 'em to the professional, TripS. ME! I got a million of 'em! Like, this nun, this minister, and a rabid monkey walk into a bar-

(A rabid monkey runs over near Rex, leaps onto the commentary table, and takes a piss on his script, before scampering off)

Rex: DAMMIT!!!

[TripS suddenly drops the microphone, and goes to hit the Peticure on Sid... when Sid back body drops TripS up and over. Sid turns around and grabs up TripS, looking to drop him with the powerbomb... but Triple S managed to grab his sledgehammer without Sid noticing! TripS creams him with it, and TripS falls to his feet. ALL OF A SUDDEN... "The Thrill Is Gone" by B.B. King hits. Ask Jeeves E Richards, 'Bollywood' Bulk Bogan, Kelvin Hash, Nacho Libre, Pinky Cherokee and Snott Steiner walk out... it's the Hot Pink World Order! The hpWo! They storm the ring only to get decimated by Triple S. Horribly. Sid Viscous surprises Triple S and lifts him up for a powerbomb and holds him up for what seems like an age. He still has him up. Still. Ok, this may take a while. Sid is about to finally bring TripS crashing down, when SSS pulls ANOTHER sledgehammer out... from one of his massive nostrils! The booger covered hammer is brought down upon Sid's head, and the big monster stumbles a bit. 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: ... Rany 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 barbedwire 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?

(A Lawyer finally gets back to his feet... as does Paul He-Man, who A Lawyer motions to come sign the paper. Paul walks toward the paper, and grabs a pen... before scrawling his name across the dotted line.)

BBQ: It's OFFICIAL! Bah Gawd, WSE finally has a second brand!

[Suddenly, Triple S spins Sid around, and boots him in the gut... before DROPPING him with Peticure! Triple S grabs the microphone...]

SSS: NOBODY BEATS UP PEOPLE I'M SUPPOSED TO BEAT UP BUT ME!!! You want your little match in a Quadruple Cage?! YOU GOT IT! I'll be there... but don't expect Retard to be, because once I get through kicking his ass from his dining room to his bed room, all the way to his BATHROOM... He'll be nothing more than a bloody WRECK! After Retard jobs to me... YOU WILL... at The Great American BackLash at the Beach! AND I'M TAKIN' THE MOTEL TITLE WITH ME!!!

[TripS tosses the microphone to the ground, and throws his fists back in a pose... before he looks back at the body of Orton, and gets an idea. Triple S quickly pins Retard, with a ref parachuting down into the center of the ring... wait, isn't there a ROOF on the arena? Aw well, logic has NO place in Sports Entertainment... TripS gets the one, two, three, and has eliminated "The IQ Killer" from the Nowhere Street Fight! With Orton laid out, Triple S walks out of the ring... with A Lawyer following far behind. Paul He-Man gets on the microphone... but Sid, who was struggling to his feet, finally stands, and immediately snatches the mic from his boss.]

Sid: You seem awfully chipper Triple S? Let me break it down for you, I HAVE A BROKEN LEG... and I still chokeslammed this punk Retard so hard he almost shit his pants. How about... when we face off, and you know it's going to happen, you put something on the line. Hell, maybe a rinky dink, roody poo, bingo hall and highschool ping pong courts brand title isn't good enough for you... but it means something to ME!

SSS: *staring down at Sid with a fierce glare* Who in the HELL do you think you are? ... You want ME to put something on the line against YOU, huh? Well... how about this. You see that bag of broken bones behind you? Yeah, that creep, Retard Orton? Well, at WrestleNymphoMania, we may be facing off against eachother... but it won't just be any ordinary match contested inside a house. ... It'll be a match contested inside a house... for a shot at the ONLY SECONDARY TITLE THAT MATTERS!!! And when I BEAT Orton? I'm going to go on to BEAT the ONLY SECONDARY CHAMPION THAT MATTERS... and after I take the OSTTM, I'll be putting THAT on the line! And then, when you and I meet in the Quadruple Cage, I'll not only be the ONLY SECONDARY CHAMP THAT MATTERS... but I'll hold that title that means so much to you! I'll be WSE's first EVER double champion!

SSS: You say that title means something to you... but listen here JACK, the OSTTM means something to NITRO... and Nitro is the Franchise of not only this company... but this BUSINESS!!!

Shane Douglas: Somebody mention me?

SSS: PETICURE TO DOUGLAS!!!

[TripS drops Douglas with the Peticure.]

Douglas: HA-HAAA... damn that hurts.

Sid: We all know you are half the man I am, and I have half the testicles you do! But hot God damn it son of a bitch if I don't take the god damn title off you and beat you like a scalded dog with it!

BBQ: Hey! He's stealing my lines!

Rex: Yeah, nobody steals that line but YOU, right Boom Boom?

BBQ: Right- ... Wait, huh?

SSS: You'll NEVER beat me! I've jobbed out vanilla midgets more times than you've broken your leg! ... Hell, I've broken MY leg more times than you've broken YOURS! So NYAH! And at the Great American BackLash at the Beach, inside the Quadruple Cage, I'm going to take YOUR head, toss it between MY knees, and drop YOU down... with the PETICURE! For the one.... two.... THREE!!! Why?

BBQ: WHY!?

Rex: ... Yeah, I'm busting out the X-Station Portable. Thank god we have have them as a sponsor...

SSS: I'll tell you why! Because I'm the damned goodest of them all... I'm the Cranium Assailant... And I AM... THE MANG-AHHH!!!

Speakers: IT'S TIME TO JOB TO THE MANGGGGGGGGGGGG...

[TripS' music hits again, and Triple S stretches his arms out, cocking his head back, boasting and gloating, as Sid stares him down from within the squared circle... Paul He-Man can only smile... as if he knows something... something EVIL... something... unbeknownst to Triple S...]

Paul: It's all coming together... *rubs hands together in an EVIL manner*

BBQ: Well folks, it looks like we've just officially said hello to WSE's second brand, as well as booked TWO match-ups, one fer WNM 69, and one fer the Great American BackLash at the Beach! Business is truly picking up around har!

Rex: Well, all I know is, I just found the secret bonus level! And it's filled with boxes I can crawl in! HIDING IN BOXES RULES~!!!1a

BBQ: ... We'll be right back... NEXT.

- ads -

[The scene... Nowhere Cemetary. The Head Ache Kid is walking through, looking for the gravestone of his great uncle, The Heart Attack Kid. Who... died of a heart attack.]

HAK: Ugh, all of this fog and cold air is giving me a HEADACHE! ... Oh, wait a minute, I forgot. I ALWAYS have a headache. Well... it's giving me an even WORSE headache! Hey, who's that in the shadows...

[Off in the distance, HAK can spot the figure of a man... a man with a wide brimmed hat and a long, flowing trenchcoat...]

The UnderBaker: Loaves of honey nut raisin bread, two for a dollar! Allow the purity of delicous, mouth watering baked goods to guide you... Feel the darkness of the raisin, as its shriveled exterior spreads its sugary sweet flavor throughout your taste buds... and let the honey... the sweet, sweet honey... to bathe itself upon your toungue... as you give yourself over to that which is... The Phork and Spoon Phenom!

HAK: You're evil, UnderBaker! And I'm GOOD! You're the dark, and I'm the LIGHT! You're nasty, dirty, and despicable, and I'm CLEAN, PRISTINE, AND TIDY LIKE WHITEY!

UnderBaker: Whitey? Who you callin' WHITEY... boy?! Kid... this place? It's like a second home for the Bread Man. My first home being the roach infested basement of my bakery! So, here's the deal. You... me... WrestleNymphoMania 69, in a Graveyard Job-a-thon! You face three guys, I face three guys, and the first one to job out all three curtain jerkers within the confines of this cemetary, will be crowned the first EVER King of Making Others Guys Job to Boost His Ego!

HAK: You know what, BREAD MAN... It doesn't matter if it's here in a graveyard, in the ring, or even at your stinkin' old BAKERY... I'm the KING of making other people job, and I can prove that no matter WHERE the match takes place! So as far as I'm concerned... you're ON!!!

[HAK postures for a bit, before turning his back to the UnderBaker. 'Baker looks to be ready to head off into the darkness... when - ]

HAK: Oh... there's just... ONE thing-

[ - when suddenly, The Head Ache Kid spins around, and NAILS 'Baker with a wicked superkick out of nowhere!]

BBQ: BAH GAWD, The Head Ache Kid done gone and NAILED The Under by gawd Baker with a move he likes tah call, "The Aspirin Orchestral"... Uh, maybe the "Tylenol Symphony"? ... Screw it, let's just call it a superkick.

Rex: And 'Baker goes DOWN! HAK goes for the pin, and gets a one... two... THREE!!! Another man has been eliminated from the Nowhere City Street Fight!!! It's just a matter of time before we're down to the sole survivor, and the man that will face Stung inside the triple cage at WrestleNymphoMania 69!!!

BBQ: So far folks, we've witnessed four TITANIC matches being made at WrestleNymphoMania 69, the event where HISTORY will be made!

Rex: Yeah. Titanic as in, anyone with half a working brain cell can tell that this pay-per-view is going to SINK! Man, I should be a stand-up comedian! I've got SOOO much talent, it's a shame I've got to stick to entertaining myself.

BBQ: I'm surprised ya do even THAT much. Yall must think a monkey tossin' its own crap is funny!

Rex: ... Of COURSE!

BBQ: A guy gettin' kicked in the nuts?

Rex: A laugh RIOT!

BBQ: Hoo boy... You sure do have a ree-fined sense ah humor, I tell ya what.

Rex: You know it! I'm classy all the way!

BBQ: Anyhoo... We all saw Rhanjin Daivari book a ten man "Let's Rob a Bank" match fer a crack at the WSE belt -

Rex: How he was ABLE to book a match, being nothing more than a manager, I'll never know...

BBQ: We saw that weasel Retard Orton challenge Triple S to a "Let's Tear Up a House" match, and TripS was more than glad to accept, upping the stakes so that a shot at the OSTTM is now on the line.

Rex: Yup, wrestlers making matches... what's next, the JANITOR booking matches?!

BBQ: We saw that collosal confrontation in the cemetary between The HeadAche Kid and the UnderBaker, and we'll now see the two square off in the graveyard, in the first EVER Job-a-thon Match! And finally, we saw Kris Y. Jeriko, otherwise known as KYJ, lay down the gauntlet against THREE jobbers - a wig, a midget, and a black rapper who can't rap. And in their corner's gonna be that good ol' boy -

Rex: DAMN! Er... SPAM! Yeah, that's the ticket...

BBQ: And I JUST received word that in addition tah dem four matches, and the title match between tonight's Street Fight winner and the champ, Stung... that there's ah-gonna be a six man TAG match... an elimination style tables match, between three members of Those Guys, and three members ah the Glass Ceilin' Gang! Bah GAWD folks, WrassleNymphoMania's gonna be nothin' short of a dad fangled BOBBER SHLOCKER!

Rex: ... Say WHAT now?

BBQ: DRUNK ASS! DRUNK ASS!! DRUNK ASS!!!

Rex: What... OH, it IS him! Drunk Ass just DROPPED the Head Ache Kid in the middle of the cemetary, with Austin Stevens' patented Drunk Ass Drop!

BBQ: THE REDUNDANCY IS AMAZIN'!!!

["Drunk Ass" Austin Stevens pins HAK for the 1, 2, 3, before standing back up and raising his two pinky fingers high into the air.]

Stevens: And THAT'S a fishin' line... cuz a bald guy SAID IT BE SO!!!

BBQ: Folks, what a STUNNIN' turn o' events -

Rex: Stunning... Austin Stevens... yeah, I get it. :rolleyes:

BBQ: But BAH FRAWG, Sanity? No... MARELLA! just come up and jack jawed my bestest, best pal in the whole wide world! Boy I tell ya, if I weren't here in this chair in this arena 'bout a mile away from that graveyard, I'd... I'd... Oh, I dunno, I might shout fer Sanity tah stop. ... Probably.

Rex: I think "sanity" stopped with you a LONG time ago, Boom Boom... But I digest. Sanity's shot to the back of Austin Stevens' chrome dome did NO damage, and only served to piss the Arkansas Redneck off to the n'th degree! The GarterSnake turns around, and...

BBQ: DRUNK ASS DROP! DRUNK ASS DROP!! DRUNK ASS DROP!!!~!

Rex: Jesus CHRIST, with the yelling, and the screamin', and the OY!

[Sanity? No... Marella flies through the air, and lands right in the open mouth of a grave. Drunk Ass... as drunk as he is... decides to pin Sanity, doing so by flopping into the grave himself... and Austin gets the pin. He then gets to his feet, and THEN gets a microphone.]

Drunk Ass: Well, LOOKSHY here *hiccup* !!!

[Austin stumbles a bit, and slumps down beside the unconcious body of Sanity...]

Drunk Ass: You... YOU! Yeeeah, YOU! You *hiccup* Bleehhh... You shink your sho SHPECIAL?! You think you're... you're so DAMN hot just cause ya got'cher melee mouthed lil' Eye-taliano ack-shent, and all THAT non-shense?! WELL... I'M the legend HERE, pal... I'm the most Shtone Cold fighter in thish here milli-vanilly mouthed, gat DAMN wrestling orginizashun! And just cuz I's drunk, that ain't mean a DAMN thing! *belch* Shcuse me...

[Drunk Ass checks his watch... or wrist... WHATEVER.]

Drunk Ass: Duz ya hear that, eh? NEH-EH! Yuz don't... cuz yer knocked the FUCK out, that's why, ya lil' pasta scarfin', pizza lovin', Super Mario soundin' BASTARD! And at WrestleNymphoMANIA... I'm challengin' YOU... YALL... I'm CHALLENGIN' yall tah... Aw shcrew it, yall jusht grab yer tranny of a girlfriend, Man Woman, an' yall meet me in that VERY ring... *PUKE*

BBQ: BAH LOGZ -

Rex: ... Blogs?

BBQ: Drunk Ass just PUKEd all over Sanity? No... Marella's fancy Italian suit!!!

Rex: You sure that's not just an imitation suit? I don't see that jobber getting that kinda money...

BBQ: And I'mma tellin' yall right now folks, WrassleNymphoMania's shapin' up tah be nothin' short of ah BARN BLISTER!!!

Rex: Whatever the hell THAT is. Do you just make up words as you go along, or what? You must have your very own dictionary, seriously...

BBQ: And now- OH BAH GAWD!!!

Rex: STOP YELLING IN MY EAR!!! ... Wait, is The Big Ho ACTUALLY burying Austin Stevens ALIVE?! What on EARTH does that humongous transvestite think he's DOING?!

BBQ: Ho has done it! He's covered "Drunk Ass" in pounds and POUNDS of dirt! And now he's covering him! Somebody stop this chaos!!!

Rex: The referee, who appeared out of thin air like magic, is counting the pin...

1...
2...
2 and two quarters...
THREE!!!

Honestly, you expect someone to kick out of about twenty tons of dirt? Well, like Jack Hoff said, ANYTHING can happen in WSE... except that.

BBQ: Folks, it's UN-BAH GAWD-BELIEVABLE! First, Ho defeats the World's Sexiest Chocolate Man... and NOW he's literally BURIED Austin Stevens, WSE's inaugural Hall of Shamer! With the Hick Icon out of this brawl fer all, we're down tah TWELVE!

Rex: Uh oh... Sanity? No... Marella's tranny valet just took a cheap shot on the much LARGER tranny, The World's Largest Transexual Athlete in fact, The Big Ho!

BBQ: This ain't ah-lookin' good fer Man Woman...

Rex: You can say THAT again.

BBQ: This ain't ah-lookin' good fer-

Rex: WILL YOU QUIT IT?! UGH...



1...2...3.

Rex: The tranny on tranny violence has led to ONE clear winner... that being the behemoth of a cross-dresser, Big Ho, the only man that can get away with dressing in drag, seeing as any dirty looks would surely end in shortened life spans... Even I'M wary of making fun of that dude... Although, let's face facts, the guy IS gay.

Ho: *shouting* WHAT'S THAT?!

Rex: Er... man, he can hear me all the way from the cemetary? ... Uhm, NOTHING Ho, I was just commenting on how nice your skirt is!

Ho: Oh, why thank you, you're lovely dear! You're sure it doesn't make my ass look fat?

Rex: ...

BBQ: We'll be back after this word from our sponsor!!!

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[We open to a candy shop, called "Just Sugar". That sounds nutritous...]

[Inside, John Semen, "The Rated G StupidStar" Nicky Mowse, Triple S, Wright Angle, King Sucka, Anti-Christ Cage, Team 2D, and hYpo... are all eating candy.]

Semen: Mmmm... Vanilla Ice cream.

SSS: Hey, Nicky, I'll trade you that peanut butter cup for this jelly filled donut!

Nicky: I've got it! Let's mush 'em into a bowl and eat 'em... TOGETHER! We can call it a peanut butter and jelly sundae!

SSS: ... That's more retarded than Retard Orton. And that's REALLY retarded.

Nicky: *shrugs shoulders*

Wright: Alright, here's the deal *munch, munch* Man, this MB Industries Pill Flavored Candy Bar is GOOD!

hYpo: Hurry up, Angle, we don't have all day! ... Well, actually, we do, seeing as we have no life but... HURRY IT UP!

Wright: Sorry *finishes the bar* Ahem... At WrestleNymphoMania 69, Jack has a Glass Ceiling Gang vs Those Guys tables tag match set up. Well, I was thinking... I'll GIVE you my table tennis medal, if you job to us!

hYpo: ... No.

Wright: OH COME ON! It's GOLD for criminy sake! Bucko, you haven't LIVED till you've worn a gold medal!

hYpo: I had a gold medal. It was... well, it was actually just a circular piece of chocolate wrapped in gold foil... but it had a nifty little necklace type thing... or strap... or whatever it's called. It was made out of a fruit roll up.

Wright: ... YOU'RE GONNA LOSE! And you're gonna lose BAD!!! ... WOOO!

[Wright goes for the Special Olympic Slam, which hYpo rolls out of... Wright turns aroung, right into a - ]

BBQ: GORE! GORE!! GORE!!!

Rex: What about Al Gore?

BBQ: ... Who?

[hYpo bulldozes Wright with the gore, but before he can follow up with the pin, King Sucka lifts hYpo up with the King's Ransom [aka the Book End, aka the Rock Bottom, aka the Sambo Slam, aka... FUGHEDDABOUTIT] and drops the Man Breast through a glass counter, containing all sorts of ooey, gooey sweets and candies. hYpo is left lying in a pool of chocolate, cream, and artificial flavoring, and King Sucka goes for the pin...]

1...2...THREE!

[As SOON as King Sucka rises back up from the pinning predicament, he is flopped onto the ground with the Mario Boyz patented move...]

BBQ: BAH COD!!! King Sucka was just delievered a 2D at the hands ah dem dumb Dudleyz... I MEAN MARIOZ!!! Dammit...

Rex: Yes, the double inverted atomic drop, which sends Sucka holding his gonads near the explosion of syrupy desserts. Brother Luigi goes for the pin... and Sucka is DONE for! But Anti-Christ cage comes from behind, smashing a bag of sugar over Luigi's head... and it's PURE CANE SUGAR!!! THAT FIEND!!!

[Luigi falls, and Cage goes for the pin... picking up the fall over Brother L. ... but Brother M., Mario, leaps off from the top of a shelf, slapping a looong piece of licorice over the head of Cage, sending the Anti-Christ StupidStar into a gumball machine... which Cage BREAKS! The balls fall onto the floor, and -

Wright: BALLS! GET SOME BALLS! BALLS BALLS BALLS! WOOO~!!!

[... Right. Cage trips on the GUMballs, and falls on his back, as Wright seems to be two burritos short of a combination plate... Brother Mario pins Anti-Christ Cage, and picks up the 3. As soon as the older of the two Mario Broz. stands back up, he's walloped upside the head with.... uh...

BBQ: A stick ah gum!

[... No, that doesn't work...]

Rex: A porno magazine!

[Oh now come ON, they don't even HAVE porno mags in candy shops!]

Rex: You never heard the song "I'll take ya to the candy shop, I'll let you lick the lollipop!" Well dude, the guy was NOT talkin' about LOLLIPOPS, I can assure ya! Bwahahahahaha...

[... Ugh. Annnyway, let's just say Wright Angle drops a box full of M&M's on Brother Mario, and the weight of the multiple, hard-covered milk chocolate candies brings Mario down to the store floor. Wright grabs a microphone...]

Wright: I promise you, THOSE GUYS... At WrestleNymphoMania?! The Glass Ceiling Gang is calling a HIT... and when we make a threat, we live UP to that threat! One of you n00bz is sleepin' wit' da fishes... BANK ON IT!

[Meanwhile, Nicky Mowse is fighting over a popsicle with John Semen...]

Mowse: MINE!

Semen: MINE!

Mowse: MINE!!!

Semen: MINE~!!!!!1a

Both: AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

[Semen boots Mowse in the gut, lifts him up, and drops him with Fuck You, before locking in the Shut the Fuck Up, and yelling into the air...]

Semen: MY POPSICLE!!! MINE, MINE, MINE!!!~!!!~!!1aa1!

[SUDDENLY... The Big Ho falls through the glass roof, right ontop of Semen and Mowse... pinning them BOTH!!!]

BBQ: Oh... Bah... GAWDDAMN folks! The Big Ho has eliminated two more! This here's utter madness!!!

Cow: Did someone say UDDER madness? ... Anybody? ... Anybody? No... ? Nevermind...

Big Ho: I'm challenging the BOTH of you... to a match... at WRESTLENYMPHOMANIA!!!

[Nicky Mowse finally gathers his bearings, and makes it to his feet.]

Mowse: You want to fight me? AND Semen? Why, that's a golly good gosh great match, gee whiz! Shucks... I just hafta, friend, I mean I just HAFTA say that, why, this calls for a stipulation! I'm putting MY girlfriend, on the line, in a Minnie Mowse on a Pole Match! Because if there's ONE thing that ALL matches need, it's a pole, and something ON that pole!

Ho: ... CHOKESLAM TO MOWSE!!!

(Big Ho chokeslams Mowse.)

Rex: ... Oh, VERY descriptive, Narrator, bra-frickin-vo. :rolleyes:

BBQ: We gots ourselves yet ANOTHER tuna bakin' match fer the Step Daddy of Em All!

Rex: ... Tuna Bakin'? Did that "Good ol' Ben Joss" guy rub off on you at WCWF Some Way Out?

BBQ: He's a RIP OFF I tells ya!

Rex: Sooo, what's that make you?

BBQ: ... BAH GAWD!

Rex: Nice save...

BBQ: Folks, we're down to da Final Fatal Four! This one promises tah be a Shlobber Blocker!

Rex: But WHERE'S Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga?! That ass better GET his ass over here so he can be pinned by Wright!

[The Big Ho is attacked from behind by Wright Angle, but Ho simply turns around and shoves Wright into the counter. But, just when he's about to go in for the kill, Ho is cut off at the knees from behind, via a sledgehammer in the hands of Triple S!!! Ho falls flat on his face, and Trips lifts the hammer up... before bringing it down into Ho's ribs.]

Rex: Why is it that people ALWAYS strike their targets with the head of the hammer in their HANDS? I mean, doesn't it make sense to blast them with the head, with the HANDLE in their hands? Don't you think that'd be more damaging?

BBQ: ... LOGIC MAKE BRAIN HURT!!!

Rex: I wonder if it's too late to talk Wes into coming back... I just KNOW Mr. Hoff has to realize this guy is just... just...

BBQ: SLAP ME SILLY AND CALL ME PAULA!

Rex: ... No comment.

[With TripS' having thouroughly wrought Ho with pain, the Mang goes for the pin... and after the three, the World's Largest Transexual Athlete is FINALLY out of this one.]

BBQ: Ho may be outta har, but he goes out having eliminated four men, and reeking a panty-hose load of destruction. IT'S GANG BUSTAHZ!!!

Rex: ... You're ripping off Tazz now?

BBQ: Hey, he's a commentator on Smackdown too... DON'T JUDGE ME!!!

Rex: Touchy, touchy...

[TripS stands back up... and goes back down, after a Special Olympic Slam from Wright Angle. Wright locks on the 90 Degree Lock... and TripS taps!]

BBQ: BAH HAWT DAWG! Wright has made the Celestial Ass Rapist TAP!

Rex: Whadya expect? It's on the quad he tore... nearly a MILLION times. That leg's in so much pain it's hard to imagine he didn't get eliminated at the start of the match...

BBQ: That just goes tah show the determination, and the HEART of Triple S!

Rex: As well as what a man can do when he's hopped up on pain killers... I hope I'm not fired after that one...

BBQ: Maybe ya can join Wes in the unemployment line, if'n ya hurry up!

Rex: Oh you shut your hillbilly mouth...

BBQ: Well folks, with Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga not showing up, it seems as if Wright has won this'n fer the dag nab GCG! IT'S A BAH GAWD TRAVESTY!!!

Rex: Well-

[Suddenly, the camera cuts to Rocky, who's drinking coffee.]

BBQ: HOWDYA LEARN TAH DRINK COFFEE?!

Rex: ... Uhm... Yeah. Well, it seems as though we've found Rocky. Of course, if you've actually been following along, you'd have known Rocky was at the coffee shop a LONG time ago, but really... who gives a flyin' flippity doo dah day.

[Wright catches the camera's view of Rocky at the shop, Wright watching a tv monitor in the candy store.]

Wright: I'M A WRESTLIN' MACHINE! AND I'M HEADIN' TO THE COFFEE SHOP... SO I CAN KICK SOME BALLS! I MEAN ASS!!! WOOO!!!

BBQ: Well folks, while Angle heads across town for the final show down, we'll head into these -

- ads -

BBQ: - and we're all back, now, ya hear!

Rex Russo: Wright has JUST entered the coffee shop, and Rocky is sitting at the counter... Wright reaches for the Bahama Bull.... yeah, THAT's creative... Anyway, Rocky swivels around, and SMASHES his coffee mug over Wright's forehead! Rocky launches into fist, after fist, after fist... he reels back, spits on his palm, and then lands a HARD blow to Wright's face, sending the Olympic Gold Medalist backwards, and flipping over a chair. Wright collides head first with the tiled floor... and Rocky's picking up a coffee maker!!! HE'S POURING THE SCALDING HOT WATER ON ANGLE!!! That BASTARD!!! He can't do this to Wrestling ONLY Table Tennis Champ!

BBQ: But the door's ah-swingin' open... and here comes the GAH BAWD Glass Ceiling Gang!!! Anti-Christ rushes in... but he's slinged across the room by Rocky... King Sucka comes in... but he's flung across like a chicken dinner at a Rosie O'Donnel meal smothered in barbee-cue saush an' flabby rice an' maggoty cheetos and BAH GAWDDDZ!!!~!

Rex: ... You ok?

BBQ: I'm gettin' excited. Bah gawd.

Rex: I can tell... The Man they CALLED... Stung, walks into the building, and points a black bat in Rocky's direction... Rocky motions for Stung to "just bring it"... and indeed, it IS brought! Stung runs toward Rocky at lightning quick pace... but Rocky simply steps to the side, and doesn't even look in Stung's direction as he passes him, believing Stung to have met with the same fate as Cage and Sucka. Of course, as it so happens quite often in Sports Entertainment, Stung is definitely NOT in the same boat as the other two members of the GCG... Stung comes from behind Rocky, and DROPS him with the Scorpioned Deathdropped! Wright goes for the pin and... wait, why is Stung leaving the building? DAMMIT STUNG, didn't you learn from what JUST happened, not two seconds ago?! If Rocky couldn't leave YOU to turn his attention to another opponent, why in the HELL do you think the same logic wouldn't apply to THIS situation?!

BBQ: But I thought you said logic doesn't apply tah wrasslin'?

Rex: But THIS logic does... and it just DID, dammit! ARGH... Rocky kicks out, with Stung NOWHERE in sight to back up Angle! Rocky quickly kippups, and throws a few punches, which rock Wright... Rocky then drops Wright with a spinebuster... and then stands near Wright's head... IT'S THE SAMOAN ELBOW!!! Rocky runs toward the far wall, acts as if he's bouncing off, then runs toward the counter, hopping over Wright on the way... when he "bounces" of that side of the room, Rocky turns back around, and tosses his elbow pad over into a nearby sink... Rocky... HE GRABS WRIGHT'S GOLD MEDALS!!! AND HE PUTS THEM ON! That MONSTER! How could he?!

BBQ: By bendin' over, removin' the medals, and puttin' 'em on. Heck, I'm a total moron, and even I know THAT.

Rex: ... *smacks forehead*

BBQ: There a fly in har or somethin'?

[Rocky stands over Wright, medals around his neck, as Rocky grabs a microphone... and says- ]

Rocky: ... is... COOKIN'.

[- before dropping the elbow square in the heart of Wright, causing him to shake violently... a little TOO violently for a simple elbow drop. ... Maybe it's a reaction to all those drugs... Nevermind.]

BBQ: Wright goes fer da bah gawd pin... and gets a one...

Rex: ... two...

Both: THREE!!!

BBQ: HE DID IT! ROCKY DID IT! He's won the Nowhere Street Fight, outlasted 39 other men, and BAH GAWD, DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?!

Rex: No... not really. But I DO believe this is a CROCK of SHIT!

BBQ: Stung walks back into the coffee shop, and finds Rocky ah-celebratin' his win... and by golly, the two icons is ah-starin' off, glarin' intah eachother lil' ol' eye balls!

Wright: BALLS!!!

Rocky: Hey, you're supposed to be KNOCKED OUT, jabroney! *kicks Wright in the ribs*

Wright: OUCH! Watch it, buster...

[Stung and Rocky continue the stare down, with Stung holding the WSE Title up so Rocky can get a good look at it...]

BBQ: You folks may very well be ah-lookin' at the NEXT World champeen o' da world!

Rex: The redundancy's runnin' wild!

[Will Rocky Joe-Kishi-Maga be able to claim the WSE championship inside the Triple Decker Cell? Will Team Those Guys be able to overcome Team Glass Ceiling Gang?]

Rex: Don't count on it...

[Who will walk away with the mini-vault in the "Let's Rob a Bank" match, and go on to face off for the WSE Title? How drunk WILL "Drunk Ass" get before he opens up a can ah Cool Whoop on Sanity? No... Marella?]

BBQ: You can bet'cher bottom dollar the answer will be TOO drunk!

[Will Triple S continue to job out everyone in sight, or will Retard Orton prove, once and for all, that it doesn't take a working brain, OR ring skills to win a wrestling match?]

Rex: SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT MATCH!

[And speaking of jobbing out, who will job out the most jobbers? The HeadAche Kid? The UnderBaker? Hulk Hogan? And who will walk away from WrestleNymphoMania with Minnie Mowse?]

BBQ: I'm goin' with da pole on this one. That poor kid NEEDS a woman.

Rex: I didn't know there was a POLISH guy in that match? HA! I'm toooo funny...

BBQ: I was talkin' bout the fact that it's a "Minnie Mowse on a Pole" match.

Rex: And you're just TOO stupid...

[Will KYJ make it through THREE of the most jobberly jobbers of them all? ... Yes. BUT... what about Paul He-Man, Sid Viscuous, and the rest of the brand new Eggstream brand? Will they make an appearance?]

BBQ: I hope so!

Rex: I... really don't care. ... Can I go now?

[And most importantly, what about Chairman Jack Hoff? What will he have up HIS sleeve? Or... well, up his no-sleeve tank top? Will he make an impact? Will the StupidStars? ... Probably not. But still, you could waste your money on worse things than -

WRESTLENYMPHOMANIA 69!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!~!!!!!!!!!!!!!1a1a1a1a!!!~1

...

!

[ORDER TODAY, and get a FREE Triple S beanie baby! The ONLY beanie baby that's basically a stuffed NOSE!!! Besides Nosey, the Loveable Shnozzolla. ...]

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Rex: ... I can go now right?

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Rex: ... Bill? Anyone in the truck? ... Hello?

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