Dave Smalley presents : WSE EGG-STREAM~!!1one

[THE Mac Bry v2]

Mondo Title: Sid Viscous
For The Win Title: Tax
Melt Title: All Snow
Broken Glass Match Title: ?
24/7 Table Title: ?
Plastic Title: ?
Ultrasick Tag Titles: Bulk Bogan & Nacho Libre

hpWo
Ask Jeeves E Richards
‘Bollywood’ Bulk Bogan
Kelvin Hash
Nacho Libre
Pinky Cherokee
Snott Steiner

Abdullah The Candlestick Maker
All Snow
Foreigner
Geoff Tardy
Giant Rapper
Hayaluya
John Fismits
Justin Satiable
Mr. Toga
Necro Grocer
Nu Mack
Poodle #1
Poodle #2
Raisin
Regicide
Sandpaperman
‘Sick’ Ric Congo
Sid Viscous
Sushi Bonita
Tax
Terry Brunswick
Testicles
The Great Noh
Timmy Steamer
Tranny
Trent Methamphetamine
Very Naughty Boy
Vic Slimes
W*ANKER
Zapu

RIP
Crikey Whiplash
Justin Case
Justin Time
Stephanie McWang
Vince McSkeletor
Zack Pictionary

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

WSE NEWZ FLASH - Jack Hoff has announced that he will announce an announcement! We take you now, live, to the office of Mr. Hoff, in Nowhere, Oklahoma.

[The camera opens to WSE Chairman Jack Hoff's office, where he stands in front of his desk, with his arms folded. He looks to be all business tonight...]

Jack Hoff: Hello ladies and men who look like ladies. I'd like to take a little time to discuss a VERY huge matter taking place this weekend... namely, the introduction of a new WSE brand! As some of you may know, my company used to hold seven shows a week. This lasted... a week. But now? We only run one... But not anymore!!! Beginning Saturday... Saturday MORNING to be more precise... WSE will be presenting to you stupid marks the newest way I plan on forcing people to give me money on a weekly basis... Saturday Morning Breakfast!!! Not only is it NEW... but it's XTREMME~!!!1one ... ! And I PROMISE that this show will NOT last for only one event like all the rest of the non-SmackRaw WSE shows! ... Honest!

*static*

www. chinlocked & loaded .net NEWZ FLASH - Chinlocked and Loaded, the website for wrestling news ripped from other websites with more integrity than us, has obtained the pre-taped video of WSE Eggstream : Saturday Morning Breakfast - Episode 1!!! And... uh... here it is!

*static*

=================
Out of Character Note:
The following has been written by BOB handler Dave Smalley.
Please direct all comments and compliments to him.
=================



[Two guys are stood in the ring with microphones as the fans throw paper cups filled with shit and piss.]

JT: Hello and welcome to the WSE Eggstream Brand’s first ever show, Saturday Morning Breakfast! I’m Joey Tiles…

BJP: And well, well, well. So good it should be a sin, so stiff you’d swear it was made out of tin, screaming louder than a baboon when it’s in but pulling out just in time to see that slime dripping down her chin. It is I, the quintessential love biscuit, Billy ‘more hung than a horse, with a set of balls bigger than an elephant… wait, make that a pair of elephants’ Joel ‘trannys may only have an ass and a mouth, but they need lovin too’ Pertner!

(A video montage of static, brick walls and stupid wrestling spots through furniture plays as Tiles and Pertner leave the ring and sit at the announce desk along with John Homes.)

JH: I hope you’ve got that special little number set to speed dial on your cellphone… I have a feeling that tonight you just might… MIGHT… have to call 911.

BJP: I’m calling Dominos.

[“Enter Sandpaperman” by Papertallica plays.]

Ringo The Ring Announcer: The following match is to be contested under hardcore rules and is to crown the first ever WSE Cardboard Champion! Introducing first, being escorted to the ring by Tranny, from the hardware store… The Saaaaandpapermaaaaan!

[“Feathers” by Coheed and Cambria plays next.]

Ringo: And his opponent, from North AND South Carolina, he is the extreme riddle… Geeeeeeeoff Taaaaardy!

[Tardy walks out and gets blasted with pink pyro.]

JT: Oh my God!

JH: Scoop that piece of traesh up and put him in a traeshcan.

JT: But Tardy’s up! He survived! And he’s limping down to the ring. He shouldn’t be allowed to compete; he’s hurt for Christ’s sake!

BJP: I want a 12’’ deep pan with pepperoni, salami, pineapple and sweetcorn. Extra cheese costs extra?! I’ll track you down and kill you as I fuck your wife! Yes I can multitask!

JT: Sandpaperman holds Geoff by the head as the long lost Tardy brother swings and misses with lefts and right. Sandpaperman scoops him up and body slams him right out of the ring. He pulls out his trusty popsicle stick and goes flying over the top rope, hitting Geoff across the head on the way down.

BJP: Only had a popsicle, huh? Then again, nothing compares to my hulking ice sculpture carefully crafted with a chainsaw.

JH: Sandpaperman now going for that traeshcan. OH!

JT: He just crushed Geoff into a million pieces with a sledgehammer whilst he was trapped inside that trashcan!

BJP: Now he thinks he’s Triple S?

JT: He might be Triple W here tonight as he pulls out a weed whacker and uses it as a WEAPON!

JH: SOMEBODY CALL 911!

JT: Sandpaperman sets a bleeding Geoff Tardy up on the guardrail belly first and climbs up onto the apron… Sandpaperton Bomb! 1, 2, 3!

Ringo: Here is your winner and NEW Cardboard Champion… Sandpaperman!

JH: He stuck his foot up the aess of Geoff Tardy and broke it ahff.

[“China White” by The Scorpions hits and Sid Viscous strides out.]

JT: And here comes the mega power!

JH: His hair looks like ah plate ah spaghetti.

JT: And Sid throws Sandpaperman out of the ring!

Sid: Tonight I am booked in a match against Abdullah The Candlestick Maker for the big title! The sickest of them all title! The MONDO TITLE! And Abdullah, you know as well as all these trillions of fans in the audience that you are only HALF the MAN that I am! And you know that I have only HALF the brain that you have!

BJP: No shit.

Sid: But I’m gonna take that measly little fork you carry around as a weapon, rip your head wide open with it, and eat your God damn brain until your as dumb as me! Then I will have all the intelligence of an unwashed dishrag AND all of your intelligence combined to make me a super intelligent mongoloid! I’ll see you in the ring later tonight.

[Sid chokeslams Geoff Tardy through the concrete floor into the basement before walking back up the ramp and out through the curtains.]

JT: Well folks, this wasn’t in my schedule, but apparently we have some footage from earlier this morning of Nu Mack calling out Zack Pictionary.

[Cut to the parking lot outside. The sun has only just risen and the lot is bathed in a red and orange hue. Nu Mack is stood looking into the camera.]

Nu Mack: Yo, I jus be chillin… but Zack Pictionary! You a punk motherfucker and ahm gon knock your lights out later this morning!

[All of a sudden Zack Pictionary attacks. He hip tosses Nu Mack onto a parked car before opening the door and climbing into the driver’s seat. He starts the engine and drives at top speed with Nu Mack still on the hood. He crashes the car into a brick wall.]

Zack: Now you’re the punk!

[Zack Pictionary climbs out of the car and runs off as Timmy Steamer comes to Nu Mack’s aid.]

Timmy Steamer: We need some help out here! Somebody get some help! Somebody call…

[Cut back to ringside.]

JH: That’s my line! I’ll say it for you Steamah. SOMEBODY CALL 911!

BJP: You’re retarded.

[“No Panties” by Trina plays.]

Ringo: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the general manager of Eggstream… Stephanie McWang!

SM: Excuse me!

[Silence.]

SM: Excuse me!

[Tumbleweeds.]

SM: EXCUSE ME!!

[Toll of a lonely church bell out in the misty moors.]

SM: This is MY show! My daddy gave it to me! You are all my Ken and Barbie dolls to make jump through flaming hoops!

[“He-Man And The Masters Of The Universe Theme” plays.]

Paul He-Man: Wait wait wait wait wait wait WAIT!

JH: He looks like he’s puht weight on Joey Tiles.

Paul He-Man: You’re not the general manager of Eggstream! I am! MY daddy gave it to me!

[The big screen lights up with an image of castle grayskull.]

Vince McSkeletor: THIS IS MY COMPANY!

SM: IT’S MINE!

PH: IT’S MINE!

[McSkeletor waves his magic wand and in the blink of an eye he’s being magical teleported down to the ring by a harness from the rafters. He falls over and is dragged around for a while until he finally manages to unbuckle himself.]

McSkeletor: TONIGHT! IN THIS VERY RING! We will have a three way dance for the general managership of the Eggstream brand… AND the Melt Championship in a melt match!

JT: Holy shit!

[He looks at his watch.]

McSkeletor: And it starts… NOW!

JT: This melt match for the strap and the ownership of the brand has gotten underway! McSkeletor is cleaning house with big roided up skeletal hands! He puts Paul He-Man down in the corner on his ass and then drops Steph on top of him.

JH: He’s got a traeshcan!

JT: He climbs out of the ring, gets a ladder, and climbs up onto the apron. He bounces the ladder on the top rope, climbs up it, and hits a coast-to-coast dropkick onto his two opponents!

JH: SOMEBODY CALL 911!

JT: He goes under the ring and returns with a barrel of toxic waste. He hits Steph with a McStunner before opening up the barrel and pouring the contents over her, melting her flesh and bones into a big gooey puddle.

JH: SOMEBODY CALL 911 AGAIN!!!

Ringo: Stephanie McWang has been eliminated!

JH: Ahgnd killed.

[Vince McSkeletor puts his hands on his hips and laughs in that way that only megalomaniac evil geniuses can. He doesn’t see Paul He-Man sneaking up behind him with another barrel of toxic waste. He drops it over him.]

McSkeletor: NOOOOOO!!! I’M MELTING!!!! MEELTIIIIING!!!!

Ringo: Here is your winner, the new general manager of Eggstream, and NEW Melt Champion… Paul…

[Paul grabs the mic.]

PH: Wait just a second! I am not a wrestler, and not a melt wrestler to boot! I gladly accept the position of general manager of Eggstream and use my power to award the Melt Title to…

Voice-Over: What does everybody want?

[Silence.]

Voice-Over: What does everybody need?

[Silence.]

Voice-Over: What does everybody love?

[“Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix plays.]

PH: All Snow!

JT: This is despicable, All Snow didn’t win that title, he doesn’t deserve it!

Snow: Thanks He-Man. Webster’s defines melting as the act of…

[He-Man shoves him aside.]

PH: Yeah, yeah. Just take your damn title and get out of here. The second piece of business is the Backyard Tag Titles. I don’t want a tag match on this show, because they’re boring. So, Poodles, get out here.

[“Thunderkiss 65” by White Zombie plays as Poodle #1 and #2 walk out.]

PH: Here ya go, you’re the champs. You’ll have to defend them NEXT WEEK in an extreme rules tag match against… Raisin and Ask Jeeves E Richards!

[Poodle #1 grabs the mic.]

P1: That’s just fine with us! Right 2?

[He shoves him.]

P2: Fuck yeah!

PH: Good, now get out of my ring!

JT: Ask Jeeves E Richards? That’s the lamest name I’ve ever heard.

PH: Number three on the list; I have an announcement to make. Unfortunately due to an attack earlier this morning at the hands of Jack Pictionary, Nu Mack will not be able to compete tonight. Instead Jack Pictionary will face one of our up and coming jobbers Crikey Whiplash in a barbedwire ropes and scorpions deathmatch to win the Puerto Rico Title!

JT: That’s not a match, it’s a death sentence!

PH: So, with the aim of having every title on somebody by the end of the morning, and with the Mondo Title being contested over in the main event, that leaves just one more…

[Paul He-Man leaves the ring and waddles up the entrance ramp to the back.]

Ringo: The following is an anything goes ten-man elimination match for the Tony Stark Championship!

[“Stand Tall” by Burton Cummings plays as all the competitors walk down to the ring at the same time.]

Ringo: Introducing the competitors… John Fismits, Mr. Toga, Necro Grocer, Regicide, Sushi Bonita, Tax, Testicles, The Great Noh, W*ANKER and Zapu!

JT: All ten men immediately go for weapons and brawl around outside the ring with each other. Mr. Toga with a sickle carving his name into Necro Grocer’s forehead! Now he’s wrapping barbedwire around his head!

JH: It’s like that thing Jesus wore and shit.

BJP: A laurel wreath?

JT: Testicles with a chairshot on Regicide! That’s his move! Regicide looks pissed and boots him into next week.

BJP: My testicles are so mammothly big it takes me a week just to wash one of them.

JH: So?

BJP: I just like telling people, so they can be in AWE of my junk. Sweat pants are good and all, but when I get dressed in the morning it’s like trying to roll a mattress up and fit it in past the waistband.

JT: John Fismits press slams Zapu into the ring. He throws a handful of steel chairs in after and grabs a whole bunch of kendo sticks. Zapu chairshots Fismits back out of the ring! Here comes W*ANKER… chairshot sends him crashing to the mat!

BJP: W*ANKER is such a… wait, he already insulted himself with that name.

JH: Everybody insults themselves by being on this show.

JT: Zapu closes a chair over his own head and a chair on each arm and leg. He springboards off the top rope and planchas Sushi Bonita, Tax and The Great Noh on the outside! We’ve got a mountain of bodies and chairs on our hands!

JH: Scoop all of that shit up in one go and put it in tha goddaemn traeshcan!

JT: Regicide comes along and pins all four of them at the same time. For those of you at home who can’t do math (like me, that’s why I use a calculator) we are down to six men. W*ANKER is in the process of wrapping his entire body in barbedwire, Necro Grocer is punching himself, Testicles is out cold somewhere in the third row and Fistmits and Mr. Toga are duking it out in the ring. Regicide slides in and smashes both of their heads together. Kick and a Policeman Killer later and Mr. Toga is eliminated!

BJP: Policeman? What is he, British?

JT: Maybe he is, they have black people there too ya know.

JH: Yeaeh rahght Tiles, they goht blahndes with horse teef and fat gehys in bowlah haets that eat french fries all day… but not blaeck people. Trust me.

JT: I wouldn’t trust you if my life depended on it!

JH: Thaet’s cold Tiles, cold as aece.

JT: Fismits, Regicide and Necro Grocer now are trading chairshots, picking up a fresh one each time they warp out of shape. I’ll give them credit, they can take a lot of punishment.

BJP: And a lot of trash and cups filled with piss thrown by the fans.

JT: W*ANKER back in the ring after walking around wrapping himself entirely in barbedwire and then setting all that barbedwire on fire! Fismits, Regicide and Grocer all chairshot him at the same time.

JH: Aend now W*AENKER is burning to his death. His DEATH Tiles!

JT: Testicles crawls out of the audience with a fire extinguisher and puts him out before making the cover. 1, 2, 3. W*ANKER has been eliminated!

BJP: Normally I don’t need to, because I usually have five women at a time all slobbering on my GIGANTIC penis… but whenever I do need to W*ANK I can go at 3000 horse power and cum jettisons of spewing sperm in long tingly rippling creamy laser beams all over my laptop as it plays slideshows of Cindy Crawford sunbathing.

JH: Cindy Craghwfed? She’s got caensah ya know.

BJP: What?

JH: The mole, thaet’s caensah.

JT: Regicide puts his hands around the throats of Fismits and Grocer and chokeslams them both out of the ring on top of Testicles. He then runs to the opposite ropes with a steel chair and hits a rolling suicide dive with it onto the last three competitors. 1, 2, 3 on the last three!

Ringo: Here is your winner and NEW Tony Stark Champion… Regicide!

[Cut backstage, to Sid Viscous’s diamond encrusted, black marble locker room with 24 karat gold furniture. Crikey Whiplash enters without knocking to wish him luck in his match against Abdullah The Candlestick maker.]

Caption: A few minutes later…

[Back at the ring.]

Paul He-Man: Well, now Crikey Whisplash can’t compete either because Sid Viscous killed him with a toothpick. Well, a toothpick and a shotgun. So, I’m going to have to give up and just GIVE Zack Pictionary the Puerto Rico Title. Zack, come on down!

[Zack Pictionary walks down to the ring and takes his belt.]

ZP: Thanks Paul, ya know, Webster’s defines Puerto Rico as…

[“Natural Born Killaz” by Ice Cube & Dr. Dre HITS to the pop of all pops.]

JT: IT’S NU MACK! IT’S NU MACK!

JH: And he’s got a traeshcan filled with weapons!

Ringo: The following is a barbedwire ropes and scorpions deathmatch for the Puerto Rico Title! Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 187 lbs, from Da Ghetto… NU MACK!

JT: Guitar shot to Zack Pictionary!

BJP: And his entrance music just plays over the whole match?

JT: Nu Mack has a golf club!

Nu Mack: FOOOOUR!

JH: OH! Golf club to tha nuhts!

JT: Now Nu Mack is cleaning house… with a vacuum cleaner! Vac shot to the head of Pictionary!!

BJP: That sucked.

JH: Nu Mack is daencing around the ring as Zaeck Pictionary convulses like he’s being electrocuted by a tub of electric eels whilst inside a microwave!

JT: Nu Mack’s got the scorpions! He pulls Pictionary’s pants open and drops the whole box of them down inside!

BJP: Holy shit!

JT: Irish whip, and Zack Pictionary gets caught up in the barbedwire! Nu Mack bodyslams him before walking out of the ring, walking casually into the crowd and up the steps, exits through a door, walks out of view for a while, reappears on top of the big screen way up at the entrance ramp, straps on a paraglider, flies through the air, unbuckles himself and falls all the way down to the ring, landing on top of Zack Pictionary! 1, 2, 3!

Ringo: Here is your winner and NEW Puerto Rico Champion… NEW MACK!

[“China White” by The Scorpions plays.]

JT: It’s Sid Viscous, again!

[Sid walks down to the ring. Powerbombs Nu Mack, Chokeslams Zack Pictionary, Chokeslams the ref, then grabs the mic.]

Sid: This match don’t mean shit! And neither does this dumb little stupid title! Puerto Rico?! This is AMERICA~! Abdullah, get your fat ass down so I can show these fans what a REAL title looks like. An AMERICAN title. The MONDO Title!

BJP: Isn’t ‘Mondo’ Italian?

Sid: Don’t make me come down there and break your neck!

BJP: My neck’s already broken, just like you’re already lobotomized.

Sid: My daddy didn’t sodomize me, boy!

[“Candle In The Wind” by Elton John (Halal mix) plays.]

Ringo: And his opponent, weighing in at 1000 lbs… Abdullah The Candlestick Maker!

JT: Sid is ready.

JH: And Aebby is hungry.

JT: Both men stand eye to eye, nose to nose, cheek to cheek in the middle of the ring. Sid slaps the taste right out of Abby’s mouth!

JH: He just spat out a whole chicken and haef a watermelon!

JT: Abby doesn’t look pleased about losing his lunch and hits a sick throat thrust that sends Sid reeling in agony.

JH: Use tha foak Aebby!

JT: He does!

JH: I haeve special communicational powers with him.

JT: And he’s tearing Sid’s forehead to shreds with it!

[All of a sudden Sid just looks up. Abby is taken aback. Sid’s eyes are wide and psychotic, his lip trembling, drool pouring down his chin.]

JT: ‘Typo’ Sid is in the zone! Abby can see the demon’s dwelling in his demented mind. Sid just walks up to Abby and powerbombs him VERTICALLY on top of his head. Ho-ly SHIT! 1, 2, 3.

Ringo: Here is your winner… and NEEEEEWWW MONDO CHAMPION… SIIIIIID VISCOUS!!!!!!!!!!!

[“Rock Superstar” by Cypress Hill plays.]

JT: It’s… it’s Tax! He’s got a belt over his shoulder, made out of old breakfast cereal boxes and string.

Tax: THAT is not the heavyweight title of this brand. THIS is. The For The Win Title… and it’s all mine.

[He holds it up.]

Sid: You son of a bitch, why don’t you come down here and fight me then? THIS is the MONDO TITLE, and it’s way cooler than your title!

Tax: No it isn’t!

Sid: Yes it is!

Tax: No it isn’t!

Sid: Yes it is!

Tax: Yes it is!

Sid: No it isn’t!

Tax: A-ha!

Sid: DAMNIT!!!

[Tax struts down to the ring, climbs in, and chokes Sid Viscous out with a Katahajime. Sid throws him off over his shoulder and goes to chokeslam him, but Tax breaks free and rolls out of the ring with his For The Win Title.]

JT: Who is the real top dog of the Eggstream brand? Which belt is the supreme one? What will it take for either of these men to be put away? Find out NEXT WEEK when Saturday Morning Breakfast returns.

JH: Ehbehehbbeh that’s all folks!

===================================================================================
The previous has been written by Dave Smalley. We now return you to your regularly scheduled writer...
===================================================================================

- one day later -

[The camera returns to Mr. Hoff's office, with the Top Cat himself sitting behind his desk. He's talking into a phone...]

Jack: Yes, yes, YES Ben, I know... I'M SORRY!!! Jesus fuckin'- Errr, I mean, FRIGGIN' Christ! ... Don't use the lord's name in vain?! Whadya mean! I AM THE LORD! The lord of the Dance, BITCH!

[Jack hangs up the phone in frustration.]

Jack: Not only does he get pissed about the language, but now he's a religous freak? DAMN! Ok, well, it appears as if Ben Hulk Hogaum, WSE's chief money backer, has threatened to pull out due to the events that took place on the debut edition of Saturday Morning Breakfast. So, it is with that in mind... and the thought of not being able to hire another guy to place jars of jelly in the seats to fill the arena to capacity... that I must unfortunately cancel all future broadcast of SMB. But I have good news! I just saved a bunch of money by switching to Geico!!!

...

Jack: Oh, and SmackRaw is also cancelled. More news as it develops...

- cut -

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

=================
Out of Character Note:
The following has been written by BOB handler Dave Smalley.
Please direct all comments and compliments to him.
=================



[“The Thrill Is Gone” by B.B. King plays as pink flavored static infects the screen with the Hot Pink World Order logo flashing on and off in quick repetition.]

Distorted Voice-Over: We’re taking over!

[Ask Jeeves E Richards, ‘Bollywood’ Bulk Bogan, Kelvin Hash, Pinky Cherokee, Nacho Libre and Snott Steiner walk out. Pinky Cherokee, a portly fellow, starts shaking his moneymaker as they get in the ring.]

Bogan: Well you know Clean Bean, a year ago, brother, me and the Nacho Man were as one. We were best of friends in the Fart Plaza. And we’d be locking horns, going head on head, putting our manager the lovely Lizzy right between us man. You were either in or you were either out brother. You either believed or you didn’t man. I shoulda seen Nacho Man coming. He couldn’t handle the pressure. And you were either ready or you weren’t. The way he put Lizzy between us, the way he twisted Donald Fart. Donald Fart was droppin the load. That’s why I stuck with him brother, that’s why we stayed together so long. And when the ultra-powers explode! I want you to be ready! Cause when Bulkamania puts you down on your knees I want Nacho madness to be droppin the load!

[Kelvin Hash slips on a banana peel and injures his leg.]

Nacho Libre: Ohhhhhhhh yeah! We’ve got Bulkamania, we’ve got the Nacho madness, yeah! And when the ultra-powers, yeah, the ultra-powers, yeah, the ultra-powers, YEAH! Come together as one, oh yeah, and stick with the hpWo, yeah! The whole EFN will be taken over, YEAH!

Snott: Are you insane?

Nacho: Oh no man, I’m ALRIGHT! In fact I’ve never been better!

[Snott Steiner shrugs and starts doing some sit-ups.]

Richards: If you ain’t down with the hpWo, the ultra-powers, Bulkamania, Nacho madness, or the Fart Plaza I got three words for ya! We’re taking over!

[“This Is Eggstream” plays and Paul He-Man waddles out.]

Paul: Who the hell do you think you are? With your little hot pink daisy dukes and your bikini tops and your stupid ‘surfer dude’ hair?

[Richards smiles stupidly.]

Richards: We’re the Hot Pink World Order!

Paul: Fine, whatever. We don’t have a stable in this company… so, I guess you losers will do.

Richards: Yeah, we will! And another thing… we want the Stable Titles!

Paul: We don’t HAVE Stable Titles!

[Richards pulls out about six replica WWE World Titles and a can of pink spray paint. He sprays ‘hpWo’ over them and puts them around the waists of all six members.]

Richards: Well we do now!

[Paul gets in the ring.]

Paul: Give me those!

[He rips them off all six members and throws them into a trashcan before setting them on fire and spitting on the ashes.]

Pinky: Hey yo!

Paul: You can’t just ‘make up’ your own titles!

Bogan: Whacha gonna do when Bulkamania runs wild on…

[Paul interrupts.]

Paul: Ok ok ok ok ok, you want titles? You want gold? I tell you what, seeing as this is an all new show and all, I’ll let YOU TWO!

[He points at Bogan and Nacho.]

Paul: Challenge for the NEW tag titles… the horrifically named Ultrasick Tag Titles, in a ten thousand light tubes, branding irons and poison darts DEATHMATCH… against… Justin Case and Justin Satiable, The Justin Stable!

Pinky: Hey yo, two dudes don’t make a stable.

Paul: So? What are we gonna call them, The Justin Tag Team? Doesn’t have the same ring to it.

[Bogan grabs the mic, violently shaking, and looks directly into the camera.]

Bogan: Justin Stable, whacha gonna do brothers? WHACHA DONNA DO when Bulkamania and the Nacho Madness come together as one in a big sticky mess of a tag team known only as the Ultra-Powers and runs wild all over you?!

[He unbuttons his hpWo shirt and rips it off his baby oiled neon orange body. He then unzips his pants and pulls them off before thrusting suggestively in his hpWo underwear.]

- ads -

[Cut to the parking lot. “Natural Born Killaz” is playing on a car stereo.]

Ringo: The following contest is a parking lot brawl! Introducing the competitors… Nu Mack and Zack Pictionary!

[Someone rings the bell on a tricycle.]

JT: Hello everyone and welcome to the first edition of Egg Fried Noodles on the Trinidad and Tobago News Network. I’m Joey Tiles and I am joined here at ringside by John Homes and Billy Joel Pertner.

BJP: Well, well, well.

JH: Cram it Pertner! We don’t have time for twenty questions, there are two men out in the parking lot ready to KILL each other!

BJP: Suck my cock.

JH: Yous a faeg Pertner, you a low down dirty faeggot.

JT: Stop bickering you two. Zack Pictionary wallops Nu Mack with a handicap parking space sign and busts him wide open. He’s wearing the crimson mask already!

JH: He’ll be wearing a gimp mask once Pertner’s through with him.

JT: Nu Mack now with a staple gun, drives a million and one staples right into Pictionary’s forehead! Now HE’S wearing the crimson mask! Nu Mack puts him in a headlock and drags him towards a bright red convertible, scoops him, and body slams him right onto the hood!

BJP: Hey! That’s MY car!

JT: Nu Mack grabs him by the head and puts him right through the windscreen!

BJP: SON OF A BITCH!

JT: Nu Mack grabs a set of ladders, stacks about five of them up on top of each other, climbs up with an American flag, plants it on the top rung, does some gangsta hand signs, salutes… and OH MY GYAAAD~!!!

JH: SOMEBODY CALL 911!!!

JT: HE’S DEAD! Zack Pictionary is dead! 1, 2, 3!

[Nu Mack climbs out of the car, grabs a brick, and starts beating Pictionary’s corpse brutally, breaking his bones and crushing his flesh until his limbs tear off his body. He crushes his skull in, dances around standing up on the driver’s seat, before shoving the brick into Pictionary’s mouth and stomping down on it repeatedly.]

JT: Well that beats the curb stomp.

- ads -

Ringo: The following match is to crown the first ever 24/7 Table Champion. We’ve put everyone on the roster’s name into a hat and will randomly select two opponents.

[He feels around inside the hat before pulling the first ticket out.]

Ringo: And the first opponent is… Foreigner!

[“Cars” by Gary Numan plays. A guy in a hawaiian shirt with a black tie and orange wrestling tights walks down to the ring. He pulls a glove out of his pocket and puts it on.]

Ringo: And the second is… Giant Rapper!

[“Rapper’s Delight” by The Sugarhill Gang plays and out walks Giant Rapper.]

JT: He’s a big guy.

BJP: He looks to be doing some voodoo on Foreigner, who is sucking his thumb and rocking back and forth in the corner.

JH: He’s insane Joey!

JT: The rules of the 24/7 Table Titles are simple. Simply put, the title is on the line 24 hours a day, seven days a week… even holidays! All you have to do to win the title is put the champion through a table.

JH: Thems some fucked up rules Joey for sure.

JT: Rapper sends Foreigner for the ride, chop is blocked, Foreigner off the other side and lays Rapper out with a clothesline. 1, 2, Rapper powers with such force Foreigner goes flying over the ropes and gets caught on the way to the floor by the neck. Rapper goes to pull him back into the ring but gets rocked with a cookie sheet Foreigner had hidden in his tights!

JH: That’s hardcore right there Joey.

JT: As Rapper stumbles around like a tree dug up at the roots, Foreigner heads under the ring for some weapons. He climbs into the ring with a shitload of bounty. He’s pouring the contents of a bag out.

JH: IT’S THUMBTAECKS~!

JT: He goes for a body slam on Rapper but can’t get him up. Rapper holds him across his knee for a backbreaker hold. He lifts him back up after a while, locks him in a cobra clutch, and swings him round in circles before dropping him onto the thumbtacks! He looks like a human pincushion!

BJP: He IS a human pincushion!

JH: What the hell is that supposed that mean?

JT: Rapper picks up Foreigner, chops him so hard he falls to the apron. He stands up but gets a big boot right to the jaw that sends him crashing all the way to the floor and THROUGH THE TABLE!

Ringo: Here is your winner and NEW 24/7 Table Champion… Giant Rapper!

JT: He’s taking the title and he’s running… wait, what the hell are you doing?

[Billy Joel Pertner stands up, just as Giant Rapper is passing, and proceeds to chokeslam him through the announce table.]

Ringo: Here is your winner and new 24/7 Table Champion… Billy Joel Pertner!

JT: Rapper looks pissed and lifts Pertner up for a chokeslam of his own, carries across to the Mexican announce table and sends him crashing through that!

Ringo: Here is your winner and new 24/7 Table Champion… Giant Rapper!

JH: Foreigner looks like he wants a piece of the action!

JT: Tangible Claw! Tangible Claw on Giant Rapper! He taps!

JH: But that dont mean a daemn thing Joey, and you know it!

JT: It’s… it’s Snott Steiner! He was just out here a few minutes ago, what the hell does he want?

JH: Thaet taiytul Joey.

JT: You’re right, he kisses his bicep and punches Foreigner in the face before lifting Rapper up for a suplex… but there’s no table!

SS: Set up a table for me you redneck!

JT: He’s pointing at Pertner! Billy Joel nods after seeing Snott’s roided up arms that look like tennis balls were inserted in under the flesh.

JH: They are tennis balls Joey, in fact, they’re basketballs. No, wait, they’re medicine balls! Yeah!

JT: Are you high?

JH: Well what the hell do you think, I can watch this shit without being wasted out of mind?

JT: Billy Joel Pertner sets up a table. Snott turns Rapper upside down and drops him with the Snotty Legdriver through the table~! He readjusts his 15th century knights templar helmet, kisses his bicep and does some squats.

Ringo: Here is your winner and new 24/7 Table Champion… Snott Steiner!

JT: Snott Steiner is getting the fuck out of dodge in a hurry! Foreigner and Giant Rapper are assisted to by the Mexican medical staff as we head to some ads.

- ads -

JT: Well folks, during the commercial break the 24/7 Table Title has changed hands 8 times. It’s hard to place a finger on who the champion actually is anymore, but I’m sure we’ll know by the end of the night.

Ringo: The following is a ten thousand light tubes, branding irons and poison darts deathmatch for the Ultrasick Tag Titles. Already in the ring… the hpWo and the Justin Stable!

JT: Wasting no time, Justin Case smashes a light tube over Bulk Bogan’s head. Justin Satiable does the same to Nacho Libre.

BJP: Mmm nachos,

JH: You see? He’s a faeggot god daemnit!

BJP: Oh please, he isn’t MADE out of nachos… is he?

JT: Bogan and Nacho Libre no-sell and jam branding irons into both Justins’ chests. Big stinky boot! Bogan runs to the ropes and drops the most atomic Indian legdrop ever on them both! And they both oversell, flying backwards off the mat and out of the ropes. Bogan and Nacho strike various poses as the Justin Stable convulses on the outside.

JH: He’s setting up a taebul~!

JT: Bogan is indeed setting up a table as Nacho rolls the Justins back into the ring. He climbs up top as Bogan heaves them up with all his might onto the tables. Nacho is pointing to heavens! Now he’s pointing at himself. Now he’s pointing at the crowd. Now he’s pointing at Bogan. And now he’s pointing at the Justin Stable! Flying elbow drop connects!

BJP: Please let this be over.

JT: IT’S NOT! Bogan is sticking poison darts into Justin Case’s neck and eyeballs! He starts foaming at the mouth and convulses violently before laying deathly still. Bogan goes after Satiable, but… who’s that?

JH: It’s him!

BJP: It’s who?

JT: It’s Justin Time! And he’s just in time!

BJP: …

JT: Justin Time hits Bogan with a jump spinning corkscrew backflip canadian destroyer variation of the tombstone! He’s call that move the That’s In Time!

BJP: Are we running out of time by any luck?

JT: Here’s Nacho with poison darts! He sticks them into Time’s gums, ears, eyelids, nostrils and belly button. He helps Bogan no-sell who then runs to the ropes, poses for about five minutes, and hits the forcefully yeast infected penis the length of an entire leg drop of doom~! 1, 2, 3!

Ringo: Here are your winners and NEW Ultrasick Tag Champions… the Hot Pink World Order!

JT: Let’s go to a commercial break!



JT: Welcome back folks! During the commercial break Sid Viscous came out and did something so terrible to a fan we can’t show you the footage of it… oh? I’m being told through my fisher price headset that we can.

[Sid Viscous grabs a fan out of the audience, dislocates every bone in his body, turns them all sideways whilst still inside his skin and sits him down in a wheelchair before telling him to fend for himself.]

JH: Aint no amount of calls to 911 gonna help that kid.

[Sid grabs a mic.]

Sid: As you can see, I’m in a cast.

[Camera zooms in on the plaster cast around his leg.]

Sid: Retard Orton FORCED me to climb to the top turnbuckle and break my leg! He’s just so smug and absent looking that I couldn’t stop myself. SO, there wont be a main event tonight! Because without Sid Viscous THERE IS NO MAIN EVENT!

[“War Machine” by AC/DC plays.]

JH: It’s Taex!

BJP: Isn’t this the Wrestlemania theme?

Tax: Sid! So you broke your leg, huh? Don’t think you can get away from me that easily. You and your stupid little stable the Three Way Dance can attack me, can abuse me, can job to me, but I’m still coming after you!

Sid: I don’t have a stable you pea-brained pipsqueak!

Tax: Don’t make excuses! So you can’t compete tonight? Well, how about this? There’s a little show coming up soon called WrestleNymphoMania 69! And seeing as this is the 69th edition of the show, I thought we should give them a little ditty of a match. YOU put on your Mondo Title and I’LL put my FTW Title on the line… in a no disqualifications match except count-outs! The WINNER, will be the FIRST… EVER… Indistinguishable Champion! Unless, by some fluke there’s a double count-out and we both just boringly keep our titles, but what’s the chance of that happening?

[Sid starts spluttering.]

Sid: You know what? YOU’RE ON!

[Tax’s music hit and he turns to leave… … … … … … when he turns back.]

Tax: But you know what? I’m thinking maybe we give these trillions and billions of fans in this bingo hall a taste of things to come!

[Tax marches down to the ring and puts Sid in a figure four Taxmission.]

JT: Wait a second…

[Sid removes his plaster cast from the other leg, Tax went after the wrong one, and hits Tax with it before standing up.]

JT: He didn’t break his leg at all! He was faking it all along!

BJP: HOW?!

JT: Tax gets chokeslammed through the ring! Oh my gyad! Sid then throws a stick of dynamite down there and it blows up, the ring lifting off the ground and smoking a little bit but other than that unharmed.

[Sid turns to the camera.]

Sid: After Tax is done jobbing to me, I’m coming after you Triple S! And when we do finally meet… in the ring… you hide as many weapons up your ass and nostrils as you want. It doesn’t matter. I admit I’ve though about sticking a piranha up my peepee hole to use as a weapon in our match… but I just might not. For you see, in a electrified, flaming, snake venom soaked quadruple cage wrapped in barbedwire and Boom Boom Quaker’s rancid bottle ball juice, it will take just one move. One move. To beat you. And that’s… one of my finishers… through ALL FOUR CAGES!

[Tax climbs back out from the hole in the ring.]

Sid: As for you… this is how hardcore our match is gonna be!

JT: OH MY GYAD! Sid sets a table on fire and powerbombs Tax through it!

BJP: Wasn’t that a bit anticlimactic?

JH: Sez yous, you didnt even make ONE sexual joke all night.

BJP: I… I, I…

[Camera cuts out.]

…

…

…

[Camera comes back on with Pertner holding it and shaking it violent trying to get it to turn on.]

BJP: Japanese girls covered in rice pudding bukkake! Girls in roadworks uniforms! Skidmarks! Big black salty ball juice!

[Security takes him away and the camera cuts back out.]