WCWF 2009 : Some Way Out

[THE Mac Bry v2]

Out of Character Note: A lot of the following has been compiled from some of my old work... to make something new. I have changed a lot though, and tried to make it fit what I'm doing currently. What is old has been taken mostly from the year 2004, when I was 16. I want this show to set up big things in WSE's future... hopefully this is the beginning of something new.

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(A man in a cloak and dark black mask, with only one hand protruding from the side of the cloak, walks down a dark alley... with black-and-white scenes from the past taking place on either side of him... Scenes from feds that the man known as Mac Bry has been a part of... MCW... XAW... AWA... SWC... BOB... Before long, scenes of three feds begin to play... the feds Mac Bry himself created ; WCWF... XCW... and now, WSE. As the masked figure walks, a deep, gravely voice begins to speak...)

From the depths of darkness... from the pits of despair...
Rises a beast from hell, with evil to spare...
He alone turns the page to the next chapter...
Light moves fast, yet he moves faster...
Where are our heroes... where have they gone...
We thought it was over. We were so, so wrong...
And as the time draws near, he unleashes his power...
The End is here... Soon... all shall be over...

[And when the rhyme is complete, the cloaked figure has come to the end of his path. He stares up at the brick wall, and raises his hand in front of him. Suddenly, the wall crumbles away, revealing what some would no sooner refer to as: Hell. This man walks into the firey reaches of this hellacious catacomb, with eyes blazing. Around him are steep ledges, overlooking a sea of flame. He makes his way to one of the steepest ledges, and stares downwards, toward the blood red heat. Somewhere from within this hellish cavern a wind current blows through, whipping this man's hair forward, covering his mask with his thick brown hair. He lifts his arm into the air... grabs onto his mask... and rips it off -]

[But before the figure's face can be seen, the "Some Way Out" logo sweeps across the screen.]



[We then head to Nowhere, Oklahoma, and the WSE Studio, where three native Oklahomans, as well as Mac Bry's longest standing commentators... not to mention three rip-offs of Jim Ross, all stand with microphones.]

Good ol' BJ, Ben Joss: BAH GAWD, THIS ONE'S GUNNA BE A TUNABAKER!!!~! ... Alright, I got mah line in. You two are on yer own for the rest of the night.

[Good ol' BJ takes off through the front door of the studio, leaving the other two JR knock-offs to handle the event.]

Good ol' Slobbert Knockovich: Hello folks, this here's yer good ol' pal, Good ol' Slobbert Knockovich, and THAT was Good ol' BJ, Mac Bry's original Jim Ross parody... I gotta say I'm glad we got rid ah that cheap imitation.

Good ol' Boom Boom Quaker, aka Good ol' BBQ: Ya'll is right, gall darn cheap FRAUD! Bah gawd, who's he thinkin' he is, huh? ... Me?

Knockovich: Regardless, folks, you may be ah-wonderin' what exactly me and muh good ol' pal BBQ is hahr fer. Well, I'mma tell ya. As was recent-ally revealed by WSE Chairman Jack Hoff, SmackRaw is NO MORE...

BBQ: And more impo-ortantly, that the Big Boss Man had done gone an' switched to GEICO!

Knockovich: ... Yup. Anyhoo, he hadn't revealed the reasoning behind this... although he had planned on appearin' on eWzine's Hour ah Power to discuss the matter.

BBQ: Unny-fortunately, that there audio contraption went through hell-brim 'n' firestone, and now it sucks a suckload ah suck, so it ain't workin' no more.

Knockovich: Yup, in other words, dah micree-phone thingy went out, and Jack weren't able tah talk none. BUT... tonight, ALL will be revealed. Now, yall may be askin' exactly who in tarnations I am. Well, yall probably known Boom Boom here from the good ol' WSE. Well, I just so happen tah be Slobbert Knockovich, lead play by play man for the legendary WCWF, which is now in its 8th year runnin'!

BBQ: I thought that dah WCWF died a few years back?

Knockovich: Ix-nay on the acts-fay, Oom-Ooom-Bay-Bay!

BBQ: ... Did you just call me baby?

Knockovich: Annnyway, the WCWF was founded by the same multi-jillionaire that originally founded WSE... A man infamous for getting what he wants, by any means neccessary. A man known ONLY as... Mac Bry.

BBQ: I thought he was also known as Shane? Or Shane-o-mac Bry? ... ?

Knockovich: REGARDLESS... Mac Bry has been involved with the Sports Entertainment world for a while now, and has been through many different promotions... as both a competitor AND a business man. Tonight, for the VERY first time, Mac Bry will bring both of his greatest creations, the WCWF and WSE, together, to create a once in a lifetime pay-per-view event, that will FOREVER transformify the foundation of Sports Entertainment...

BBQ: FOREVER!

Knockovich: That was MY line!!!

BBQ: Oh yeah?

Knockovich: Yeah!

BBQ: OH YEAH?!

Knockovich: YEAH~!!!1a

BBQ: Oh, that is bah Gawd IT!!! You cheap knock off ah ME... I challenge yoo-ins to a dall garn match... a match to determine the commentator position fer WCWF, seein' as there ain't no more SmackRaw!

Knockovich: Yalls wanna challenge ME?! Well I just got two words fer yuz -

Jack Hoff: BOOM BOOM!

[BBQ and Slobbert turn their attention toward the studio's front door... where Ben Joss stands... right next to Jack Hoff, who seems to be concerned about something...]

Jack: Boom Boom... I'm glad you're ready to fight Slobbert. Because his boss and I have just come to an agreement, and with Mac Bry's word of agreement, the battle of the AGES has been signed... WCWF vs WSE, with the winning company becoming the lone company under the Mac Bry Industries umbrella.

Ben Joss: And Mac Bry, Jack Hoff, and the WCWF owner have agreed to make ME the commentator for this event! Ain't it great?!

BBQ: ... Yeah, hey, uh, Jack? Who exactly IS the owner of WCWF... just in case I have to work for the guy by the end of the night.

Jack: Wellll... you're not gonna like it...

BBQ: Oh, it cain't be THAT darn bad...

Knockovich: Oh, trust me pal... it is.

BBQ: ... Jack...

Jack: It's... it's Vince Russo.

BBQ: ...

BJ: RUSSO! RUSSO! BAH GAWD ALMIGHTY, IT'S RUSSO!!!

BBQ: God help us all...

- ads -

[Ring Announcer Howard Fecal is standing in the middle of the ring, in the Middle of Nowhere Arena, with microphone in hand.]

Fecal: The following is the opening contest and is a 6 man tag-team tables match. Three men from the shows 3rd Rock and Star Trek will be pitted against eachother. First, they hail from a planet far, far away, and have come to earth on a mission of learning. Tommy, Dick, and Harry - The Sullivans!!!

[Suddenly, the big screen comes on, showing the Sullivan family laid out in a heap of tables backstage. Kirk, Spock, and Scotty come upon the bodies, and turn to the camera.]

Kirk: This...is the... worst tragedy... that has ever befallen... this great sport.

Spock: But Captain, signs report that the attackers were-

Kirk: Us! Yes... they were. Or... we were... whichever the case.

Spock: The diagonal point of the triaxolon prupulsion is therefore biased towards the greatest odds which rely on their source. We cannot bear witness to such odds, and force through the axis of the 360o turnstyle. It is unreliable.

Kirk: What?

Spock: I dunno, I just thought it sounded cool.

Kirk. Ah. Well... it is... time to head... to the ring, for we... have won.

Scotty: Damnit Captain, I'm a doctor, not a wrestler!!!

Kirk: We... have won.

Scotty. Oh. Then let's go out there and claim our prize, eh laddie?

[The Star Trek stars begin to trek toward the ring... yeah, that IS a bit redundant, isn't it?]

["To Boldly Go Forth and Rock" by STAR GWARS hits on the speakers, and the fans are... nowhere in sight. Scotty, Spocky, and Kirk...y, all walk toward the ring, where Howard Fecal holds the "Pimply Faced Geeks Love Outer Space" trophy. But, as the Trek crew steps into the ring, and Fecal is about to hand off the trophy, the lights cut out...]

Speakers: s... s... s...

[When the lights return, the three galaxy voyagers are laid to waste in the middle of the ring, with the trophy broken in half near Captain Kirk's head... Howard Fecal is left standing, wondering...]

Fecal: Do I get my bonus yet?

[NO!]

Fecal: Sunnuva -

- ads -

Howard Fecal: The following is a No DQ, No Holds Barred, Hardcore Streetfight for the Loserweight Title! Introducing first, he is the Loserweight Champion... Chris... STOOORM!

['Firestarter' starts up, and Chris Storm rolls on down the ring in his finest garb, Loserweight strap over his shoul- OH MY GOD!!!]

[From behind, with a clubberin' arm... it's... it's... Ben Joss!!! The commentator for tonight's show! He screams into the air, "BAH GAWD!!!", picks up Storm, drapes him over his shoulder, twirls around, and slams him to the steel ramp with the Sooner Slammage!!! He drops an arm over Chris's chest, the ref kneels down, and here's the pin: 1....2....3!!!]

Howard Fecal: Here is your winner, and NEW Loserweight champion... Good ol' BJ!!!

[BJ slowly stands to his feet, and limps to the ring, panting and out of breath... Ben clutches the title to his chest, which is ample with man boobs... Ben finally makes it to the ring, and rolls in, but cannot pull himself up, and simply falls down to the mat... Suddenly, the lights cut out AGAIN...]

Speakers: s... s... s...

[When the lights come back on, five men are standing in the ring... WCWF Chairman Vince Russo... WCWF Tag Champions, The InsideOutsiders, "Barely Good" Hack Hokin and "Big Stupid" Kevin Slash... WCWF IntArquettenental Champ, Reeve Gordon... and WCWF WORLD Champion, Triple S. ... No, not Super Sized Shnozz, WCWF's version - Scissor Slash Simpson! Yup, Mac Bry is the KING of Originality...]

Russo: Ladies and- what's this tub ah lard doin' heyah?

Reeve: Like, he just got through winning a title or something, fer sure.

Russo: Argh! TripS... pick this fat sack ah shit up...

[Triple S does so.]

Russo: Now... PETICURE HIS ASS!!!

[TripS hits a pedigree-esque move... which is wrestling speak for an exact replica, only given a different name as to avoid a copyright lawsuit.]

Russo: *lowers over Ben Joss, microphone held to Vince's mouth* Ben... how's it goin'?

Ben: G... Good? Uh... I... I'm kinda hurt... hurtin' here, boss...

Russo: Awww, isn't that a shame... tough luck, big boy. Looks like you're gonna have to take some time off. Good thing though... that just makes the following two words so much easier to say...

BJ: Dammit...

Russo: YOU'RE FIREEEDDD!!!

BJ: I hope I get compensation for this...

Russo: Don't count on it, lard ass. Boys... toss this fat bastard over the ropes, I don't want him in MY ring any long-ah!!!

[Hack, Slash, Reeve and SSS all toss Ben over the top ropes... which takes ALOT of strength, and even for these four men tossing the chubby cheese-muncher is quite a challenge... Russo picks up the Loserweight title that BJ dropped.]

Russo: From now on, I'll call this "The Title"... Wait, no... The s... W... o... Title, because, as all you WCWF marks are well aware, you're looking at the Mang-ah Triple S, the InsideOutsiders, and "The Show" Reeve Gordon, along with yours truly... and we make up the BEST DAMN stable EV-AH!!!...

Da ess...
Dubbya...
Ohhh!!!

[As those letters leave Russo's mouth, "Epic" by Faith No More plays on the arena speaker system, and Jack Hoff walks out... followed by Wright Angle, King Sucka, Anti-Christ Cage, and WSE Champion, Stung... the five men being collectively known as The Glass Ceiling Gang. Jack stares down at Russo, with a microphone in his hand.]

Jack: RUSSO!

Russo: JACK!

Jack: Aw shaddap! You say THAT group of losers is the "best damn stable ever"? BAH! I'll tell you right now... THIS group of losers is the best damn stable ever!!!

Cage: HEY! We're not a group of losers!

Jack: Of course, of course, you're much better than that... you're a TEAM of losers! A well oiled machine of losers! A bunch of losers with ONE goal... to beat the SHIT OUTTA THE SWO! Now... GO DO IT!

[The GCG stampede down to the ring, and begin trading fists with SSS, Reeve, Hack and Slash, before all eight men fall through the ropes and into the seats... Russo is left standing alone in the ring, as Jack walks down the ramp, balling up his fists, and looking to fight...]

Russo: WAIT! Wait a DAMN minute! Hoff... You wanna fight? Well have I gotta proposition for yuz! Seein' as Mac Bry has agreed to determine the winner between WCWF and WSE, and to see who ultimately steps away as the ONLY company around... How about this ; The Something World Order vs The Glass Ceiling Gang, with the winning team's company sticking around! How about it?

[Jack finally makes it to the ring, rolls in, and stares Russo into the eyes... before shaking Russo's hand. Jack smiles... before pulling Russo in, and clotheslining the holy livin' bajeebus out of him! Jack laughs heartily...]

Jack: Sorry Vinny-Ru... but with a match like that being booked? It looks like your little group is DEAD... MEAT!!! ... Mmmm, meat... I need a hamburger.

[Jack waddles out of the ring, perhaps heading off to the concession stand for a burger, leaving Vince in the ring, grabbing his head in pain...]

- ads -

BBQ: Hi dahr folks, and welcome back tah good ol' WCWF Some Way Out! With Ben Joss bein' ah-fired and all, I've come down here to replace him!

Knockovich: So have I!

BBQ: Oh yeah?

Knockovich: YEAH!

BBQ: Dem's fightin' words!!!

Knockovich: Alright, that's it, you and me, NOW!

BBQ: You got it!

Knockovich: You first.

BBQ: You got it!

[Boom Boom runs toward the ring, rolls in... and after five minutes of struggling, gets to his feet. BBQ looks over to Slobbert Knockovich, who is smiling for some unknown reason...]

BBQ: What the hell is yall smilin' fer?!

Knockovich: Some unknown reason, didn't ya hear the Narrator?!

BBQ: Dammit, git'cher ass in here!

Knockovich: You're not facing ME, ya big dummy!

BBQ: ... Huh?

[Ring Announcer Howard Fecal whispers something into Boom Boom's ear...]

BBQ: Me vs WHO?!?!?!?! You've gotta be kiddin' me, by gawd! He'll... he'll... Folks, I'm at a loss. Let's... let's take a break.

- ads -

[We fade back into the ring, where Boom Boom is shaking in his boots, with Slobbert still smiling from ear to ear.]

Knockovich: So? Ready to call it quits?

BBQ: NO! Never! But... still... He's a monster I tell ya! EVIL personified! Straight from the pits of hell-fahr and brimstone!!! I... I...

Knockovich: Ya sure ya ain't ready tah concede that I'M the one that should be pulling commentary?

BJ: ... *gulp*

Knockovich: Aw quit bein' a baby, ya BABY!!!

[The lights shut off, for the third time tonight...)

"Awubba dubba flubba... SHAROOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!"

Knockovich: Get ready to kiss your spot at the announce table GOODBYE, BOOM BOOM!!!

["No More Tears" blasts over the speakers, and a pedestal rises from the stage, and who else should stand atop it but the original prince of darkness... Ozzy Osbourne.]

Knockovich: The Ozzman cometh, baby!

[Ozzy jumps off the platform and saunters down the ring, shaking the hands of the fans as he passes. As he makes his way through the ropes, Howard Fecal begins to speak.]

Fecal: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is now a CASKET match!!!

Knockovich: The crowd is eating this up like a hog at a banquet! BBQ looks like he's just seen a ghost!

[Rat Bore pulls the casket up to the side of the ring. Boom Boom backs up as Ozzy stalks... step by step... inch by inch... ]

Knockovich: NIAGARA FALLS!!!

[Ozzy raises his hands into the sky, and... BBQ pulls out a wad of cash... around 20 bucks. Ozzy nods his head, and retrieves some object from his back pocket... what appears to be a DVD... He hands the DVD case to Boom Boom, who swaps with the stack of bread. Ozzy runs his thumb through the bills, before pocketing them. The camera slowly zooms into the DVD to reveal... yes, it's the complete series of "The Osbournes"!)

Knockovich: WHAT?!?!?! What a crock ah $#1t!!!

[The audience is literally rioting! (literally... they've got pitchforks and everything...) BBQ lifts the DVD to the air, flashing it off to the crowd like the shill he is, and Ozzy more than obligingly slides under the rope and right into the coffin!]

Fecal: Here is your winner, and the NEW commentator for the WCWF... Good ol' BBQ, Boom... Boom... QUAKERRR!!!

Knockovich: SON-OF-A... this is an outrage! This is-

- ad :

Boom Boom: Folks, Good ol' BBQ here to remind you that the complete series of the Osbournes is now on sale at all fine markets for a mere $2.99 in your nearest bargain bin! You can catch all the wild and zany action that you could have caught on MTV for free, yet most likely wouldn't have given a sh!t if you had! Catch it at Wal-Mart, Best Buy, K-Mart, Target, Sears, K.B., Radio Shack, Blockbuster... you get the idea.

: end ad -

[We return to the arena, where Boom Boom Quaker sits alone at the commentary table.]

BBQ: Welcome back folks, and lemme tell ya, it's good to be the ONLY commentator in WCWF! I just wanna take this good ol' time tah thank everyone fer supportin' the Quaker, and tah say that I hate oatmeal. ...

PA: If ya smeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllllllllllllll-alalalalalalalalalalalalalal- LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME DAMN YOU OR I'LL CUT YOUR THROAT!- lalalalalalalalalalalal... what the HollyRock... is... *ring* oops, my agent's calling. Remind me to finish this sound clip later, won't ya hun? Just edit it in- cookin'. Are we done yet? Good.

[The multi-million dollar movie star, HollyRocky Boobola, makes his great entrance to the completely underwhelming response of the vacant seats in the arena...]

BBQ: You can cut the cheese with a knife!

[HollyRock walks out in his leather vest, gold tinted shades, and khadalaki cargos. HollyRock steps onto the apron, steps one foot into the ring, slides under the middle rope and into the ring, and brings in the other foot, before stepping onto the top turnbuckle, lifting a fist into the air, soaking in the electramaticity of this non-sold crowd! Wait, there in the front row... it's a fan! A HollyRock fan! The woman must LOVE this guy! She's in a wedding dress, with a sign that reads "Marry Me HollyRocky!"... although she's a bit on the ugly side... With all those piercings, and tattoos, and...]

Dennis Rodman: I LOVE YOU, HOLLYROCKY!!!

[Well... Huh. Suddenly, the HollyRock's music is abruptly cut off by a toll... and another... and one more for kicks. The lights would dim at this point... if our production crew wasn't off getting drunk right now. The American Meathead.... the Duke of Darkness... the Phucktard himself... Da Dead Guy. The sound of the bell continues to ring, as a line of druids walk out holding torches... followed by Smaul Derrier... followed by a hearse... followed by a vulture... followed by a sad clown... followed by-

- ads -

[... followed by zombies... followed by a wolfman... followed by an evil child's doll with a knife... followed by-

BBQ: OH HELL, HURRY THIS SH!T UP, I'LL MISS MY STORIES BY THE TIME THIS ENTRANCE IS EVEN HALF OVER!!!

[Ok, ok, the ring's pretty much filled with characters from a second rate B-movie horror flick anyway... And there he is, draped in a loooooooong black robe, carried by EVIIIL bridesmaids from hell... OF DEATH. Da Dead Guy walks down to the ring, and steps up onto the stairs, releasing his robe. He lifts his head, and his hands slowly, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. But before he can get his sight back in proper order, HR flips Da Dead Guy over the top rope and into the ring, before laying in the boots to the midsection.]

BBQ: HollyRock ain't gonna be a-waitin' fer no dadgum zombiefied freak show! He's beating the living dead crap out of Da Guy, before picking him up, and whipping him into the far ropes. DDG comes back, and there goes Holly with the deep armdrag! DDG is flung across the ring, head bouncing into the post!

[Hell, why do I need to be here, BBQ's doing a GREAT job of stealing my job... Well... he IS the commentator after all... But anyway, this is a MAC BRY ran fed, bucko, not one ran by that chump Jack Hoff! Which means the commentator's job is to make the occasional shouting of a move three times, and allow ME, the Narrator, to get all the match-detailing glory!|

BBQ: Sorry sir...

[That's better. Rock shakes his foot a bit before laying down one stomp, and then dropping a shaky elbow into Guy's chest. He stays down ontop of Guy, throwing a few fists to the skull, keeping Guy from getting in any offense. But suddenly, Guy tosses Rock off, and bounces off one set of ropes, leaping into the air and somersaulting, before landing a GARGANTUAN flipping clothesline from hades, driving Rock down to the canvas. Guy lifts Rock up by the arm, and whips him into the ropes. Rock rebounds, and Guy goes for the big boot... but Rock ducks under, and bounces off the ropes from Guy's back... but as soon as Rock comes in for the clothesline, Guy lands an elbow to his head without even turning around! Rock stumbles back a few steps, and Guy turns around, before clotheslining them both over the top and to the outside mat. Guy quickly gets to his feet, and lifts Rock. Guy lays Rock's upper torso over the apron... before climbing up as well... Da Dead Guy climbs the post, and- ]

BBQ: FLYING LEG DROP! Da Underta- er...

[See, that's what I'm talking about. You're just for show Boom Boom, leave the main material to the pros.]

BBQ: Bu-

[SHUT IT! You are the weakest link.... GOODBYE!]

BBQ: ...

[See, I cut off his feed. I can do that. Cuz I'm the man. Or disembodied voice... whatever. Guy topples to the ground after that violent leg drop from above, and Rock stumbles all the way back and ontop of the announce table. I hope he rips Boom Boom a new one... But unfortunatly for those that hoped to see that fatass get his, it looks as though HollyRock is the one who's new one is going to be ripped. Dead Guy grabs Rock by the throat... and looks as if we're going to see the CHOKESLAM!!! from Wal-Mart! Dead Guy lifts Rock up high... but Rock pushes Guy off with both feet, and lands firmly on the ground, before clotheslining Guy down to the floor. Rock turns around, and gets into position to land The Rundown... Guy slowly gets to his feet, but lets face it, everything this guy DOES is slow. He turns around, and- ]

BBQ: RUNDOWN! RUNDOWN! RUNDOWN! NOW ON DVD AT ALL FINE RETAILERS EVERYWHERE!!!

[HollyRocky rolls Da Dead Guy into the ring... but as soon as he does, Da DG sits up!!! HE'S BACK FROM DA DEAD!!!]

Mark Shill: That's his move!

[Rock stands before the now risen Dead Guy, who simply stares Rock into his beady little eyes... Rock comes up with a clothesline... but it does absolutely nothing! Another clothesline... and NOTHING!!! One more clothesline, seeing as how third time's the charm... but-

BBQ: NOTHING! NOTHING! BY GAWD NOTHING!

Mark Shill: That's his move!

[Instead of causing any painful side-effects to the Phucktard, DDG grabs HollyRocky's arm, twists it over his head, and Da Dead Guy goes up top!]

BBQ: He's preparin' to land da OldSchool of Hard Rock!!!

Mark Shill: That's his-

BBQ: DON'T EVEN!!!

[BUT- Before Da Dead Guy can fly off with the arm chop, Rock brings the arm in, and drops him square on the back with ANOTHER Rundown!]

BBQ: He goes for the pin cover, and we get a one-

MS: Two!

Referee Chili Fartz: 3!!!

Howard Fecal: Here is YOUR winner, and the biggest sell-out in the history of Sports Entertainment... HolllllllyRooooooooooooooooooooooooock!!!

BBQ: Well folks, what a match that was, with two of the WCWF's biggest jobbers... er, STARS, in action. The night is young, and we've still got the Glass Ceiling Gang vs the sWo... We'll be right back, after these -

- ads -

[We're back, and there's Shane-o-mac Bry's theme song: "Free pants, that's what I got. I went to Macy's and I got two pair, I tried 'em on, and they were too tight down there. Pumpkins. I don't know why I said that word. Sounded cool, I'm a fool, as you should know, let's get this show on the road, cuz I got- FREE PANTS! A na, na na, na na na, FREE PANTS FOR SALE, that's what I got! FREE PANTS! A na, na na, na na na, FREE PANTS FOR SALE, that's what I got! Come on, come on, come and get 'em, COME ON!..." Yup, it's... a theme song, alright. And here comes the man behind all you've seen, and all you WILL see in the glorificent company known only as... the WCWF. Shane steps through the curtains to the overwhelming support of his fans. Fans that don't exist. ... Shane stands on the top of the stage, as a fountain of golden sparks showers down upon him. He holds his hands mightily into the air, feeling the electrcity wash over him... No, seriously, those sparks are PURE electricity... are ya sure this is safe?]

MB: Shut up, Narrator, you know I wouldn't do anything if it were dangerou- AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

[OH NO!!!]

MB: HAAAAA-haaa, just foolin' with ya.

[Grrr...]

MB: Heheh. Woo, I'm wild!

[Ugh... Shane walks down the ramp, before sliding into the ring, and grabbing the microphone from Howard Fecal. Mac Bry lifts it to his mouth, and here we go.]

MB: Ladies and gentlemen... I've got some good news, and I've got some bad news. First, the bad news... It seems as though HollyRock's grandma's, cousin's, brother's, aunt's, stepchild's, sister-in-law's, lawyer's kitten died after John "Bradshaw" Layfield from WWE ran into the helpless cat's litterbox and landed a vicous CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL!!! But anyhoo... on to the good news. Tonight is, as you all should know, the greatest night of my long, drawn out fedding career. Why? Because tonight, I have pitted two of my GREATEST creations... EVER... against one another. It will be the WCWF's group, the sWo, against WSE's group, the Glass Ceiling Gang, and only ONE company will be left standing. Every member of the other company will be FIRED... And the winning company's staff and roster will be able to know that they truly ARE the best of the worst this business has to offer!!! Tonight will set standards FOR standards, and promises to be even greater than the bible!

Crowd: [uncomfortable silence]

MB: Er... the Bible... BELT!!!

Crowd: YAAAY~!!!

MB: Ahem... so, sit in those cheap seats you got from a scalper who charged you five times their actual worth, and enjoy the show!!!

BBQ: What a stirring speech by the FOUNDER of both WCWF AND WSE! Next up is an inter-promotional tag match! Yup... concession stand, here I come...

Howard Fecal: The following is an inter-promotional tag team match, set for ONE fall! On one side, the WSE team of Brother Mario and Brother Luigi... Team 2D! The other team, the WCWF team... Father Time... and The Caveman of A Thousand Holds... give or take... UGGG!

[We kickstart things without any entrances of any kind. That's the way we do things around har! We don't need no stinkin' flash and flair, just the meat and potatoes! Mainly because I'm too damn lazy to write any ring entrances...]

[Mario begins in the ring, along with Ug. Ug is a rather portly fellow, rough stubble, shaggy hair... and nothing but a tiger skin to cover his God-given gifts. Ug rushes in... well, as fast as a three hundred pound neandrathal can, and swings into the collar-and-elbow tie-up with Mario... who switches over into a side headlock. Ug pushes Mario off into the ropes... the iconic plumber rebounds and goes for the clothesline, but Ug ducks under the attempt, bounces off the ropes himself... comes in, and goes for the big boot- but Mario catches the leg! Mario takes less than a second to notice one thing: Ug isn't wearing any underwear under that loincloth. And this causes Mario to look away abruptly... before being caught from behind with the schoolboy! 1... 2... kickout! What great strategy from the caveman!]

[Ug starts to climb up the ringpost, Mario gathers his bearings... Mario turns toward the post where Ug- leaps into the air, and Mario, welcome to... THE CLUB! Yes, the Club, Ug's "smash"-hit finishing maneuvre, also known as the ax-handle smash, only with a little more stank. That little more stank being the name I just thought up in about 3 seconds. Mario stumbles backwards, and Luigi blindtags himself in. Ug stomps toward Mario, goes for the splash... but Luigi leaps over the top with the flying neckbreaker, and gets every last bit of it. Ug drops like a sack of dino turds, and Luigi quickly goes for the cover: 1... 2... Father Time finally gets involved by breaking up the pinfall. Luigi goes for his throat, but Ug comes up from behind with ANOTHER Club. Luigi falls to a knee, and Ug turns him around, lifting him up... and dropping him solidly on his back with a DEVESTATING sit-out powerbomb! Time locks in the four o'clock shadow (single leg figure four)... but Mario drops down ontop of the two, obviously still aching from the Club.]

[Mario rolls out of the ring, literally, and Ug chases after him... leaving Luigi and Father Time alone. Luigi grabs onto the middle rope and brings himself to his feet, before turning around and- chop: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Chop: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Chop: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! No, the audience really isn't getting into this, I just need to fill this show out as much as possible... Luigi's chest is strawberry red. Well... I'm sure it is underneath the camoflauge t-shirt and overalls... Time reels back and kicks Luigi right where it counts. In the penis. ... What, it's the truth... God, you people... Sheesh... Yeah, still filling out the show. Luigi drops to his knees, Time zings off the ropes, and goes for a knee-lift... but out of nowhere, Mario picks the geezer up in flapjack position! He holds him there... till Luigi leaps into action, and BAM! Double W! Mario goes for the cover, but unfortunately for Team 2D, Brother Luigi is the legal man. And so is... UG!!! The caveman supreme blasts Mario over the back with yet ANOTHER Club! Mario arches his back and rolls to the side, but not out of the ring like last time. Ug bounces off one set of ropes, over Mario and against the other set of ro- STUNNER!!! Luigi just knocked Ug stone cold out! The behemoth falls like a redwood, and Mario's bro. goes for the pin, and this time, we actually get one.]

Howard Fecal: Here are your winners, WCWF's home team, two faithful members of "Those Guys"... Brother Luigi and Brother Mario... TEAM 2-D!!!

BBQ: And there they is, folks, celly-bratin' in the ring as only the Brothers Mario can, and boy howdy, I sure do love these here tater tots I got from the dad gum concession stand! ... We'll have more crap - NEXT!!!

- ads -

============================================================
VOICE OVER: The following is a CLASSIC WCWF match-up... from the vault!
============================================================

Good ol' BJ: Fans, this is me, good ol' BJ, and what we're seeing is the Gordon Gardens Arena, live, as nine men stand tall in the middle of the ring. Last week, the Applecore title was vacated when Klanman lost it in the wash. How he fit that honking piece of plasti... er, "gold", into a pants pocket is beyond me. Anyhoosiers, tonight, Mr. Tony Spaghetti, General Manager of WCWF Nitro, has promised a big treat for the fans to settle this problem, and he is on his way to ringside... as we speak.

[Nitro General Manager Tony Spaghetti walks down the ramp, and... well... flops into the ring, grabs a microphone (after struggling to his feet), and begins to speak.]

Tony: Hello, and welcome to sWo... Nitrooooooooo!!! Tonight, we have a jam-packed, special edition episode, where both the MustSeeTV AND Applecore titles will be on the line. And speaking of the Applecore title, that is exactly why I'm out here tonight. Last week, the champion, Klanman, lost the belt in the trash, or the hamper, or some such nonsense, and his ass is FIRED!!! ... Oh, wait, sorry, wrong cue card. Ok, his ass is in this match... as well as nine other men. And they are: hYpo, Yoshotacofanakajiri, Mike Jawesome, Dan Van Dam, Spazz, XtRmKoR, Dike the Little Killer and his brothers Hee-Haw and Blubba Butt. This match is a falls-count-anywhere match, and every man who gets a pin is instantly the champ. The match ends at the end of the night, and the last man to hold the title when the last bell rings, is the undisputed Applecore champion. And now... Klanman!!!

["Enter Klanman" by Swastillika hits... and is immediately stopped by the techie, because he forgot Swastillika was banned in all 49 states. Wait... whadya mean Texas is a state? Ok, not ALL 49 states. Klanman comes out through the crowd, wearing a black "LEVITICUS 20:13" shirt, carrying his pogostick in hand... and he damn sure has to use it, as the fans are LITTERALLY jumping all over him. He fends them away with pogostick shots to all their heads... till he gets to the barricade, and an old lady, about half his height, hits him in the back with a purse. Klanny turns around and looks her eye to eye... and my God, she's black! This does NOT look good. Klanman gets a perverted smile over his face, and grabs the granny by the throat...]

BJ: BY GAWD, HE WOULDN'T!!! THAT DAMN SUNNUVABITCH IS GONNA KILL THAT POOR OL' BROAD, BY GAWD!!!

[Klanman hooks the woman's throat, clenching the stick in his other fist... he looks out at the crowd, and smiles that sick, twisted, demented, perverse-

*CRACK!!!*

[Klanman drops to all fours, and we see Mike Jawesome holding a black bat, busted down the center after that vicous blow to the back. Mike steps back a few, before stampeding forward, hopping the barricade, and dropping a huuuge elbow to Klanny's spine! Mike stands up, and hugs the old woman, before handing the black bat over as a souvenir. She smiles... and kicks him in the nuts!]

Old Woman: Handing me a broken goddam bat! You really think I can use this shit?! I'll shove it up your ass, you hand me some crap like this again... goddam dumbass.

[Mikey holds his bag of tricks on the hard floor, as Klanman drapes over an arm... and gets a 1... 2... 3. Klan is the first man with the title! He claws and scratches his way up the seats, trying to make it to the back before anything ELSE happens... but is out of luck, as he's met at the pass by a STIFF kick, from none other than Yoshotacofanakajiri, the Japanese Jackass!]

BJ: Kick! Kick! Kick! Kick! Kick! And another! And another! And another! And another! And another! And one more for good measure! And there's another kick! And he's kickin' him all over the place!

(Wow Ben, no wonder you're the lead play-by-play man in this company.)

BJ: But, I'm the ONLY play-by-play man in this company.

(I know, you really earn your keep. Keep it up buddy, you might get a promotion.)

BJ: But I've been working this same job for fifteen years...

[Yoshotaco lifts Klanny to a standing position, before spinning around, and landing a foot straight to the jaw, sending him rolling back down the same seats he just climbed up... Yosho climbs ontop of a chair, stares down at the prone body of Klanman... before performing a turning, flipping, spinning 360 degree high-impact somersault body splash! Which connects! With the concrete floor! And Yosho is out like a light. Speaking of which, how many japanese people does it take to screw in a lightbulb? I need to know, because I need to be prepared if I'm gone & one of my japanese cousins is left to tend the house.]

[Klanny crawls to the very top row of seats, and makes his way through the entrance... before meeting up with a ten year old.]

Klanman: Hey kiddo.

Kid: Whassat hat on yer head, miss'er?

Klanman: Oh, this old thing? It's a KKK hat. It helps us Klannies protect our identity so big, bad, black men don't kick the mother lovin' shit out of us.

Kid: Ooooo, you say a bad word!

Klanman: What, black? Are you one of those damn politically correct jackasses? THIS COUNTRY FOUNDED ON FREEDOM OF SPEECH, YOU LITTLE PISS-ANT!!!

Kid: Waaaaah!!!

Big, Bad, Black Man: Is this man giving you trouble, son?

Kid: Waaaaah!!!

Klanman: Holy shit...

BBBM: Ok, that's it, I've had enough of your kind. With your hate, and your narrow-mindedness. It's time for a change. It's time... to get diiirrrrty!!!

Klanman: Huh... Huh?

JJ Mynuz: Yo, yo, yo, YO! My name be JJ Mynuz, and I is here to say, that you, Mr. Klanman, are really gay. You think you're cool cuz you hate so much? Well, I just think you're a big buttmunch! Dig?

Klanman: Uh...

JJ Mynuz: Yo! Ariva La Dierce, beeyotch! I'll see yo' ass in the riz-ing next week!!! Come son... it's time tah go get diiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrtttttyyyyy!!!

Kid: Uhm... are you Michael Jackson?

JJ Mynuz: No! Do I LOOK like a white, noseless woman to you?

Kid: No... ok, let's go.

JJ Mynuz: Tizight. I'll show you where I keeps my special place.

Kid: ... Are you R. Kelly?

============================
CUT TO ABOUT 30 MINUTES LATER
============================

BJ: Alright folks, we'll be back after the ad- Whoa, hold up a cotton-pickin' second, I just done gone and heard that we have some live footage from the back, of the ongoing Applecore title match! Let's head there... NEXT! Er... NOW!

[The camera switches to the... women's lockeroom? But we don't have any women in this feder- Oh wait, Lieutenant Titts, of course! And there she is... making out with DVD on the floor... ooo, he must have drowned in the shower, and she's recussitating him! In the... women's shower...]

DVD: Whoa... dude... you're like... dude... whoa... totally.

Titts: Like, for sure. Yeah, so like, ya know? Like... totally.

DVD: Totally.

Titts: Totally!

DVD: Whoaaa...

[Ooooo... kay... well, hYpo stumbles by the lockeroom door, being slapped with kicks over the back of the head all the way by Yoshotacofanakajiri. Yosho grabs hYpo by the hair, and tosses him into the lockeroom... following in, and his eyes widen... the camera pans back to DVD and Titts... who are now joined by Yosho's team partner, Ultimo Dragqueen.]

DVD: Dude... two chicks... three way... totally...

Yosho: [][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]!!!

DVD: Dude... huh?

[Just then, Sushi Inc.'s resident translator/manager walks in.]

Jippy Jam the Japanese Jughead: What-a my client, he say, is that choo is not to have the relationships wit the female. For, ah team pahtnah is Ultimo Dragqueen... who is... how you say... Drag Queen.

DVD: Dude... you mean... I'm dickin' a dude?

JJJJ: Yes, Dan-san.

DVD: ... Whoa... ... Whoa...

DVD: ...

DVD: Whoaaaaa...

JJJJ: Yes-a, whoa. Now, I will leave Mistah Yosho-san to pin you why you ah, how you say, daze and the confoosed. Konichiwa.

DVD: Whoa... dude... whoa... ...

DVD: Dude...

[Jippy leaves, and Lieutenant Titts shrieks like a girl... which she is... before scampering off, half nude. In other words, the same way she was when she walked into the lockeroom. DVD sits there in stunned silence. Or... stunned "Dude... Whoa"'s. As Yosho decides to climb ontop of him for the pin. And Ultimo decides to climb ontop of Yosho for... well, for he is a Drag Queen, and that's what DRag Queens do. I guess. The ref goes for the count... but wait, isn't Klanman the one that should be pinned here?]

DVD: Whoa, yeah, hey, that's right! Dude...s, get off of me, dudes! Totally.

[And so the two Japanese get off, before DVD starts to get up... and catches a double spinning back kick to the mush, sending him reeling, and tumbling over the lockeroom bench. Suddenly, the sounds of a pogostick can be heard... and heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Klannie!!! He hops around the room, all happy with glee, before-

BJ: GORE! GORE! GORE!

[And Klanman falls to the-

BJ: FLOOR! FLOOR! FLOOR!

[And he surely can't take any-

BJ: MORE! MORE! MORE!

[And hYpo goes for the pin, and the one, two, three-

BJ: FOUR! FOUR! FOUR!

[Ben... no.]

BJ: Sorry... just had to do it.

[hYpo just stole one! Well... actually, he was already in the match, in the room, and hit a perfectly legal move... but Klanman was completely defenseless! Well... except for that pogostick he was hitting everyone in the crowd with not too long ago... hYpo runs out of the room before any of the japs can get him.]

=======================================
COMMERCIAL BREAK. GO GET SOME POPCORN.
=======================================

- joined in progress -

[Triple S walks out the door, leaving Tony looking at the papers on his desk... Before the door swings open, and XtRmKoR is thrown through the opening... by hYpo. hYpo grabs XtRm up in a bearhug, swivels around, and slams XtRm straight through Tony's table!!!]

Tony: SONUVVA- You're gonna pay for that, I hope you know! It's coming out of both of your paychecks!!! If we can afford any...

[hYpo walks over to the door opening, and crouches into position... as XtRm turns around, and hYpo goes for the-

BJ: GORE! GORE! GORE! Right through our good ol' GM!!!

[I can't believe it! hYpo just speared Tony into the wall!!! hYpo backs out, covering his mouth, all shocked and crap, before - 1... 2... 3!!! XtRm has schoolboyed the Man Buoy, and is now the NEW champion! *CRASH!!!* OH MY-

BJ: GAWD!!!

[Blubba-Butt and Hee-Haw just SMASHED through the very same wall hYpo speared Tony into! But XtRm is none the wiser, as he is just now getting up from the school boy, and he faces the opposite direction. Blubba hooks both of XtRm's arms, as the poor boy screams out in terror, and-

BJ: 1D!!! 1D!!! 1D!!!

[Yes, the 1D, aka... the Drop, an inverted atomic drop from Blubba over Hee-Haw's knee! XtRm lays on the floor, grasping his beanbags, as Blubba goes for the cover... but Hee-Haw pulls him off!!! The Studz stare into eachother's eyes, and trade a few scarring words... all the while, XtRm crawls over the ground, and right out the door, with his title intact...

=======
COMMERCIAL. Commercial, commercial, commercial...
Commercial, commercial, commercial... COMMERCIAL.
Yeah, that oughta fill up enough space...
=======

[XtRmKoR is huddled in a corner of the backstage, rocking himself back and forth, as he's obviously had to evade all other nine members of the match throughout the show. Suddenly, a clatter is heard off camera, and XtRm nearly jumps out of his boots. He slowly peers over the crate he's ducked behind... and see's nothing. Before- *THWACK*, pipe, right to the small of the back. He arches his back in pain, and turns around, only to be caught with the StudCutter, aka bulldog from none other than the runt of the litter, the Little Killer, Dike Studley! The StudCutter sends XtRm straight through the crate, headfirst, and Dike goes for the pin cover on the current title holder. The ref goes down for the count; 1... 2... *YOINK!* From out of nowhere, Blubba-Butt and Hee-Haw BOTH pull off their youngest brother! And the Broz. are still fighting over who gets the hardware! As fingers are pointed, and words are exchanged, XtRm manages to crawl off once again, without being pinned...

======
LATER
======

[We come back to the ring, where Kevin Slash and Essa Mysterio are in the ring, Hack Hokin on the outside. As soon as the bell rings, Hack hops up on the apron to distract the ref, but Essa dropkicks him off! Hack rolls over the outside mat, slamming into the barrier, and he's out like a light. Slash rushes toward Essa with the big boot (using up one half of his full move arsenal in the process)... when Essa brings his neck crushing down over the bottom rope with the drop-toe-hold! He cups both hands to his mouth and lets out a howl, as the fans are letting him know he truly is the best, as he bounces off the one set of ropes, springs toward the middle rope beside Slash, swings through, and- Big Popcorn Pump just grabbed him up from the outside in those massive arms!!! The Big Bad Butter Daddy lifts Essa up in a gorilla press, and tosses him over the top! Slash rolls over and drapes an arm down for the cover: 1... 2... kickout!!! Essa kicked out of that, and I can NOT believe it! Mainly because I was told earlier today that that was the planned finish for this match... gotta love bookin' on the fly, folks. BPP rolls into the ring, and lifts Essa up for the Kernal Krunch... but Essa reverses into a frankensteiner! And Pops lands neckfirst on the bottom rope!!! Essa bounces off the other ropes just like before, springs into the air just like before, and unlike before, hits the 420 on Popcorn Pump, sending him careening backwards... and smacking right into Slash, sending him to the outside! Essa springboards off the top rope, leaps around and catches Pops with the tornado ddt, and drives his head into the canvas. Essa hops to the post, and 360o somersaults his way to the outside, crashing into the lifeless body of Big Stupid. But all the while, from the crowd, there comes the current Applecore title holder, XtRmKoR! XtRm crawls over the barricade, and rolls into the ring... Essa slowly gets back to his feet, and lugs Slash into the ring... Essa goes for the pin, as XtRm sighs and pants heavily on the other side... if Essa picks up the win here, then XtRm will have lasted the entire night with the title, and will be walking out with the Applecore gold around his waist! The ref falls down for what could be the last time of the night: 1... 2...

3!!!]

BJ: He's done it, by gawd, he's done it! They've BOTH done it! XtRmKoR walks away the Applecore champeen o' da wurl, and Essa Mysterio has cut the giant down to size! It's a night of miracles, folks, and we'll see you next time on sWo Nit-

*Duuuun-nuuuuu... duuuuuuun-nuuuuu... "I am Iron Man..."*

BJ: Holy heavens in the barbecue-smothered name of the Lord above, what in the living hellfire and brimstone is THIS all about?!

[As Essa is celebrating on the corner post, and the ref is handing over the Applecore title to it's new champion... our Chairman, Mr. Vincent Kennedy Russo steps out from the back with black bat in one hand, paper of some sort in the other. Russo walks down the aisle, not giving a single fan a second glance... not even a FIRST glance, before he steps into the ring. He eyes Essa, before brushing past him and yanking the mic right out of the ring announcer's hand.]

Russo: Wait a goddam second ova' heyah! Essa, XtRmKoR, befah ya get any ideas, I want to show you somethin' straight outa' dah goddam rulebook. As paragraph 2, section 28 clearly states, if interference occurs in any generic 'David vs Goliath' type match, and affects the outcome in ANY way, shape, OR form, whethah directly OR indirectly, then said match WILL restaht, even if lil' Davey-boy ova' heyah is actually the winnah. And as EVERYBODY saw, Pops Pump obviously intafeyahd, and ended up crashin' intah Big Slash, knockin' him out. And I'm willin' tah bet if it hadn't a' been fah that move, then we wouldn't be havin' this convahsation now. But I guess we'll nevah know now, will we Essa, since ya had to go off and cheat and everything. But you should be glad. I could fiyah ya ass right this minute, because if theyah's one thing I hate, that's a CHEATAH', but hey, I'm a nice guy. So XtRm, hate to tell ya, but that last bell was a false alahm. Hand ovah da belt, and we'll see if you can make it outa heyah da same way, when da REAL final bell rings. Let's get it on!

[Vinny-Ru walks on out of the ring, and as he makes his way up the aisle, Essa stands at the ropes, staring a hole through his back... XtRm slouches in a corner, after having the title clawed away from his sweaty hands. But through the audience... we can see crowd members moving out of the way for someone... but we're unable to see exactly who, until they come to the barricade. Dike, Blubba, and Hee-Haw - The Studley Brotherz. All three cross the safety barrier, looking for that gold. Dike slides in first, but XtRm rolls out of the ring... right into the hands of Blubba and Hee-Haw! The Studz drag XtRm back into the ring kicking and screaming, as Dike prepares to hit that StudCutter... he charges in... and his Brotherz pull XtRm out of the way, sending Dike reeling out of the ring, and tumbling to the outside! Blubba-Butt and Hee-Haw laugh like a pair of jackals, before lifting up the forefingers (the international sign of the Studley family) and preparing to hit the 1D on poor XtRm. But suddenly, Hee-Haw has an idea. He tells Blubba-Butt to head up top and he'll set up XtRm for the traditional StudleyBomb. So, Blubba sits on the turnbuckle, and... wait, where'd that ladder standing on the outside come from? Aw well. Anyhoo, Hee-Haw rests XtRm on Blubba's shoulders, the big guy stands up, ready to drop XtRm and lay him out once and for all... when-

BJ: SUNSET FLIP! SUNSET FLIP! BY GAWD SUNSET FLIP, BY... BY GAWD IT'S STOP SIGN STUDLEY! How do I know? Let's just say, thank God for the script.

[Yes, Stop Sign Studley from the old Xtremely Crappy Wrestling has arrived, and has sunset-flipped XtRm right off Blubba's shoulders! He goes for the pincover, but the ref won't go for the count. Well, he really wasn't officially in the match... but out fo the blue, Hee-Haw shoves the ref down! What in the green hell?! Hee-Haw rips off his shirt, and- by God-

BJ: HEY! That's catchphrase infringement, I'll tell ya what!

[- He's wearing a referee's uniform! Hee-Haw goes for the count: 1... 2... 3!!! And my God, Stop Sign Studley has won the Applecore title! Hey, Hee-Haw was wearing a ref's shirt, so it's undisputable. And on the other side of the ring, Essa is STILL staring out at Russo... about a half-hour after the man went backstage! And WHAMMO! Slash rolls Essa up from behind in the schoolboy, gets the feet on the ropes, and gets the 1, 2, 3 from the official official. Slash has done it! Slash has done the impossible! Slash has defeated a man half his size! DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Yes, I'm filling up space.]

[Yes, the FINAL final bell has finally rang, and Stop Sign Studley is the new champion! But why would Hee-Haw turn on his brother like that? Well... his other brother. Hold on, wait a minute... it seems as though... Hee-Haw's face seems to be... peeling off? He looks at the audience, before lifting a hand to his face... and quickly snatching off... a MASK!]

BJ: BY GAWD! BY GAWD! Hee-Haw Studley is Big Chito!

[No Ben, Big Chito had a Hee-Haw Studley MASK on.]

BJ: Oh... well, sue me.

[Not a bad idea. You have been giving me awkward glances.]

BJ: ...

[STOP INVADING MY PERSONAL SPACE!!!]

BJ: BUT-

[Haha. Anyway, Big Chito motions toward "Stop Sign Studley", who removes HIS face, revealing none other than Little Nunzio, the leader of IBI! Wait a minute... that means... LITTLE NUNZIO IS THE APPLECORE CHAMPION!!! Nunzio has pulled the wool over on everyone's eyes, including our GM! Nunzio has been lobbying his men to "persuade" Mr. Spaghetti into giving him a title shot for months now. But none of his schemes have worked... till now. Little Nunzio has taken the title, and he's taken it without hardly ANY work! I mean, jeez, he had Hee-Haw set up the ladder for chrissakes! One sunset-flip, and voila, we've got a new champion, after ALL that work all ten OFFICIAL members of this match put in... Geez, this would piss me off if I actually gave a shit.]

[And that's when "Unstable" by Adema hits. The fans come alive for our beloved GM, Tony Spaghetti, who walks out through the curtain in a leather jacket and a microphone in hand. He lifts the mic to speak, but it's hard with all these people chanting his name...]

Tony: HEY YO! Knuckleheadsamich!!! I've had quite enough of your shistola, punk. You've been whining and begging for a title match for the past three months, yet you haven't done a damn thing to deserve it but sick your boys after me and my roster... and now ya pull THIS crap. Sneaking into one of MY main events, to snatch a title right out from under the nose of a DESERVING champion. I mean, look at poor XtRmKoR. He's been busting his hump all night to keep that title, and THIS is what you do to repay him? And to top it all off, all you can break out is a damn sunsetflip? Pathetic. Just what makes you think that a three count from Mr. Cheese Wiz over here is going to make you the champ, huh?

Nunzio: Well, for one thing, you said at the beginnin' a' the show ova' he', that WHATEVA' man holds this title at the sound of the last bell... is the champ. So-

Tony: Ya know... you're right. So ya know what? You're the Applecore champion. Congrats. But as you know, all champions MUST defend their titles sooner or later... and luckily for you, I'm going to make it much sooner rather than later. In fact... since you like to stick your noses in the main event, I'm going to STICK you IN the main event, at the next Nitro. You... vs the man that Gored me into my own office wall, hYpo... vs the man that should be the goddam champ right now, XtRmKoR [crowd cheers] ... The winner walks away with the strap... and the losers... ARE FIRED!!! [the cheers cut, and everyone is left shocked. Why would Tony put the man he had just labeled the deserving champion in such a precarious predicament?]

BJ: By Gawd, folks... What have we just witnessed here? Little Nunzio has picked up his FIRST title... but next week [week? ch'yeah, right...] two men are going to be GONE.... forever [or until we make up a cheesy little storyline to bring them back when our wallets need a refill] Seeya next week [make that month] !!!

=====================================================================
VOICE OVER: The preceding has been a CLASSIC WCWF match-up... from the vault! ... NOW GIMME SOME CAN-DAYYY!!!
=====================================================================

BBQ: Ok, I've just received a message during the break from WCWF Chairman Vince Russo. There WAS a tag title match scheduled between The InsideOutsiders and Team AmeriCANADA... but it has been cancelled, so the sWo may have more time to kick the Glass Ceiling Gang's ass. I think he's got THAT backwards...

Howard Fecal: The following contest is for IC-US title, and is scheduled to be a total and complete squash.

[Triple S is standing in the ring as the challenger. Two matches in one night? Huh... You think he can do it? ... Signs point to "duh"... El Enchirito Deluxe, IC-US champ, enters the ring with a swagger becoming of a champion... before being peticured face first into the mat, and being pinned one, two, three. Triple S snatches the strap away from the ref, and holds both the IC-US and World titles in the air. ... Yup.]

- ads -

[We come back from the break to find Justin Sufferable and Lance Bore, Team AmeriCANADA, in Mac Bry's office...]

Justin: Why in the HELL did we lose our title match?! We want it, and we want it NOW!!!

Bore: Yeah. We want it.

Justin: ... Give me more feeling than THAT, Lance!

Bore: We want a title match.

Justin: ... You really are boring, ya know that?

MB: So... your title shot was taken from you?

Justin: You got that right!

MB: Well I'll GIVE you that shot.

Justin: Yeah!

MB: Next week.

Justin: Yes!

MB: In a fatal four-way.

Justin: Yuh- Wait...

MB: Against the Extreme Swedes, the Studley Brotherz, and a team that will be declared before the match.

Justin: But... what about Hack and Slash?

MB: They're the tag team champions.

Justin: And?

MB: And this is a #1 Contendership match, to determine who will face Hack and Slash at the next WCWF ppv. Now get out of my office. I've got papers to sign, and you're just plain cramping my style. BEAT IT!

Justin: DAMN YOU!!! Let's go Lance... we need to prepare.

Lance Bore: Ok.

Justin: ... Ok? Is that all you have to say?

Lance Bore: Hey, you said it yourself. I'm boring. My name's Bore. I give boring answers. It's my gimmick.

Justin: Geesh...

[Team AmeriCANADA are about to leave, when...]

MB: WAIT! Guys... I may have been a bit hasty about that match. I've got an idea...

Justin: You DO! Great! So, we get that title match tonight, or...

MB: No... no title match, YET... it's a #1 contendership match.

Justin: DAMMIT!

MB: BUT... it's tonight... and it's against ONE team. The Extreme Swedes. You beat them, you get the title shot at the next episode of Nitro, capice?

Justin: Well... ok. But remember, we ARE the extreme in this company... get ready to have the censors cut out a bunch of the nasty, icky, gooey violence we're about to display!

MB: Well, this is pay-per-view. And judging by the fact that... well, it's YOU two... I don't think I'd have to worry about censoring out violence even if this was on PBS! HA!

Justin: ...

Bore: I'm boring.

Justin: WE GET IT!!!

[We return to the ringside area, where the ring announcer, Howard Fecal, stands with microphone in hand.]

Fecal: Lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllladies and gents, I just flew in from Boston, and BOY are my arms tired! *rim shot* *sound of crickets chirping* Ohhhh k... well, tonight, in this very ring, Swedish Roadkill and Hardcore Hansel, the Extreme Swedes, will face the two most hated men in this entire company. Besides the InsideOutsiders. And Triple S and Reeve Gordon... and Vince Russo. So, anyway, without further adieu, please welcome... the Extreme Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedes!!!

["Bohemian Polka" by Weird Al Yankovic plays, and the crowd explodes into a fit of cheers for the most hardcore duo of Swedish superstars in the world of proffesional wrestling. Swedish Roadkill, a 400 pounder with an attitude, and Hardcore Hansel, a young, buff, muscular Swede, both wearing traditional Swedish garb. Roadie and Hans strut down the ring, Roadie taking a bit more time than his partner, before they come down to the ring, and step inside.]

Fecal: And their opponents... hailing from the beuatiful country of Canada, they weigh in at a combined 505 pounds... Lance Bore, Justin Sufferable... Teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmmmm... AmeriCANADA.

(A clip of Slackjaw Jim Dumbass shouting "Hoooooooooooooooooooooooo!" rings out, before Jimi Hendrix's famous version of "Oh Canada" hits. The tandem known as Team AmeriCANADA walk down the ramp and slide into the ring, to a mass amount of boos. But, before Justin can even get up from sliding in, Swedish drops his weight down over the former XCW Champion's back, crushing him down into the mat. Hansel immediately goes after Bore, whipping him into the ropes, and catching him with a spinning backelbow... knocking him flat on his back. Hansel hops into the air, and brings down the sharp elbow to the chest, causing Lance to let out a quick sigh. Meanwhile, Justin is still... being sat on by Roadie. And... he's STILL being sat on. And...)

[Hans lifts up Lance, who suddenly goes for fist after fist to the Demon from Sweden, catching him off guard. Lance whips Hans down to the mat with the drop-toe-hold, before switching swiftly into the STF. Lance locks that STF on, and he's wrenching the jaw... and folks, if you didn't know Lance, he's prone to locking on these rest-holds, er, submissions for hours on end. So... this is going to be a while. On the other side of the ring, Roadkill is still sitting on Sufferable's back, and the man may be dead by now from all that weight. Roadie finally stands up, and begins to climb the turnbuckle... Justin still knocked out below... and Roadie goes straight for the Weiner Schnitzel Slam, aka the big fat butt drop. And he connects! With the mat! Justin rolled away just in time, and Swedie is holding his rear in agony. Justin bounces off one set of ropes, flies toward Roadie, and spears his back, sending the two of them rolling out of the ring. Unfortunately for Justin, Swedie ended up in a most dangerous of positions. On top. No wonder he's not a big hit with the ladyfolk...]

[Lance still has that STF locked on like the dickens, but Hansel is nowhere near to tapping. In fact... he seems to be playing a game of solitaire. Wait... no, Lance just placed down a card of his own... while still holding onto the STF.]

Lance: Old maid! Haha, I win. You have no choice but to tap!

Hansel: Dammit all...

[And... Hans taps. ... Ok...]

Fecal: Eliminated from the match via losing a card game, Hardcore Hansel.

(I didn't know this was an elimination match... aw well. Anyhoo, it looks as though Swedish Roadkill has BOTH members of Team AmeriCANADA on his plate. But I'm sure it's not the first thing he's had on his plate today... or his last. He rolls off of Justin Sufferable on the outside, but is unable to get up. Lance finally goes out and tries desperately to pick up the fat fu... Swede, so he may pin him and get the match over with (which we'd all be appreciative of, I'm sure), but he's no match for Swedie's girth. So, Justin finally gets up and tries to help... and they get the Extreme Swede halfway into the air... before Swedish falls back to the ground taking them down with him. The referree speaks with Howard Fecal, and Fecal gets back on the microphone.)

Fecal: I have just received word that this match is now a falls count anywhere match. Thank God...

[Ok, so now we can get the ball rolling. Both of them there Crazy Canadians drape an arm over Roadie... and the ref goes for the count: 1... 2... 3!!! Sheesh.]

Fecal: And the winners of this match... [the ref speaks with Howard, before Fecal lifts the mic back to his mouth] ... Lance Bore, and Justin Sufferable, Team AmeriCANADA!!!... And your new #1 Contenders- [Lance and Justin walk over to the ref to have their hands raised] Hardcore Hansel, and Swedish Roadkill... the Extreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeme Sweeeeedes!!! [ WHAT THE FV&$?!?! ]

Lance and Justin: WHAT THE FV&#?!

[That's what I said.]

Lance: Actually, you said what the FV&$, with a dollar sign. We used the number sign instead. And in addition, we subracted both an exclamation point, and question mark.

Justin: Yup.

[...]

Lance Bore: But the real question is, how did we win... but those two pieces of American crap are the #1 Contenders?

Justin: Hey! I'm American!

Lance Bore: Shhhh, they don't know that.

Justin: ... Oh yeah. ... Wait, aren't those two Swedish?

Lance Bore: ... Hey look over there!

Justin: No.

Lance Bore: ... Curses. My plan has been foiled!

Justin: Annnyway, WHY did we not get the #1 contendership so rightfully belonging to US?!

Fecal: Well, as my good friend Mr. Referee over here said, Chairman Russo called in from the back and said that although you two DID get an arm over Swedish Roadkill... HE got a leg over both of your legs first. We have video footage to prove it. And since the tag titles come first, being more important than winning a regular match, Mr. Spaghetti decided to award the match to you two... and the #1 Contendership to Hansel and Roadkill.

Justin: Does that make any sense to YOU?

Fecal: No, but hey, I'm getting paid in spades to say the names of a bunch of no-talent jobbers, so do you think I'm going to complain?

Justin: DADMMIT!!! This is not the last you'll hear of us... TEAM-

Lance: AmeriCanada.

Justin: Dammit, Lance, for the last time, MORE FEELING!!!

Lance: AMERICANADA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!~!!!!!1a

Justin: ... A little... TOO much feeling... Maybe you should just stick to playing the "strong, silent" type...

BBQ: Well folks, the main event is right up next, and it's gonna be for ALL the marbles. Includin' all ah dem I done gone an' lost. ... The sWo. The Glass Ceiling Gang. ... NEXT!!!

- ads -

[The camera returns, this time to the sWo's lockeroom... Hack and Slash are playing the X-Station Wii60, Reeve is applying make-up... and Triple S is speaking with Vinny-Ru.]

SSS: Vince, I don't want you or Jack out there. I want this thing to be settled between the boys... the sWo, and those GCG goofs. You got that?

Russo: Well... I may not like it, Scissor, but I'll accept it. I guess I'll go tell Jack, and make SURE the cream puff stays in HIS lockeroom. I'll be back....

[Vince leaves the room... but soon after, a noise is heard... As if something is being shoved up against the door.]

SSS: ... Vince?

[TripS walks over to the door, and tries to open it... but it won't budge an inch. Hack, Slash, and Reeve all notice TripS' frustration, and come over to help... but even the combined force of the sWo can't move the door!]

[The camera switches to outside, in the hallway, where it becomes obvious what has occured.]

Jack Hoff: Ok, you just keep sittin' there, and I PROMISE you can have all the weiner shnitzel you can stomach!

Swedish Roadkill: UND STRUDEL?!

Jack: Und stru- ... er, AND studel, of course. Just sit on your fat ass, ya... fat ass. God, you're fatter than I am... and is THAT ever saying something...

[Jack walks off, with the Glass Ceiling Gang soon coming into viewing, following him closely.]

[Triple S and the rest of the sWo continue to bang at the door, trying desperately to break it down, but the fat Swede is immovable. We head to the ring...]

Howard Fecal: Ladies and gentlemen, the following... is the MAIN EVENT... of the evening!!! *canned pop*

BBQ: I cain't believe it folks! WSE Chairman Jack Hoff has outsmarted the entire sWo, as well as WCWF Chairman Vince Russo, and it looks as if it will now be a five on ONE handicap match!!! And boy howdy, could the stakes NOT be any higher! If Russo can't outlast all five members of the Glass Ceiling Gang, then bah GAWD, the WCWF is DEAD... AGAIN!

["Epic" hits, and the GCG walk down to the ring, with trash being thrown at them the whole way down.]

Fecal: Introducing first... representing WSE... Pro Wrestling's ONLY Olympic Table Tennis Gold Medalist, Wright Angle... King Sucka, Anti-Christ Cage, WSE Chairman Jack Hoff... and the man they called... Stung. Together, they ARE... The Glass... Ceiling... GANGGG!!!

Fecal: And their opponent...

["Iron Man" hits, and Vince Russo comes out... alone... looking around himself, awaiting for SOMEONE to follow, but no sWo... specifically, no Triple S, Russo's number one stooge... Or is it the other way around?]

[Russo stops on the ramp, and grabs a microphone.]

Russo: Wait, wait, WAIT... Something has happened tah my sWo... so, if they won't come out heyah, then I know someone who WILL!!! Ladies and gentlefucks... Shane... O... Mac... BRYYY!!!

["Here Comes the Money" hits, and Mac Bry actually comes out! Could Vince Russo and Mac Bry have forged an ALLIANCE?! MB has chosen WCWF over WSE?! It's impossible... it's improbable... it's... it's...]

[Russo struts down to the ring, gets in, and smiles, believing Mac Bry is right behind him. Well... he is. WAYYY behind him. Russo turns around, and finds the Mac smiling himself, only he's smiling because HE'S standing in the middle of the ramp, nowhere near the ring... and Vinny-Ru is standing right smack dab in the middle of it!!! Vince gulps exagerratedly, and turns around... right into a five on one beatdown at the hands of the Glass Ceiling Gang.]

Wright Way Slam from Angle...
Satan's Supper from Anti-Christ Cage...
Royal Pain from King Sucka...
Scorpioned Deathlocked from Stung...

[And finally, with Russo all but dead, Jack grabs the former WCW booker, current TNA booker, by the throat, and tosses him into the corner... Vince drops into a sitting position, and Jack begins to back up toward him...]

[Jack turns, so his ass is facing Russo... and Jack pulls down his pants.]

BBQ: STINKFACE! STINKFACE! BAH GAWD ON A BISCUIT, IT'S THE BAH GAWD STINKFACE!!! ... BAH GAWD!

[Jack Hoff goes for the pin on Vince Russo, and Mac Bry slides in, revealing a referee's shirt as he gets into the ring... Mac goes to count the fall...]

1...

2...

...

THREE!!!

Howard Fecal: Ladies and gentlemen, YOUR winner, MY winner, EVERYBODY's winner, Jack Hoff, the Glass Ceiling Gang ; W... S... E!!!!!~!

[Jack Hoff and Mac Bry share a hand shake, before sharing a cold can of soda... well, Mac Bry has the soda, I have to believe Jack's beverage is a bit more... alcoholic? Yeah, that's the word...]

BBQ: Oh glorious day! Folks, the sWo is DEAD, the WCWF is GONE, and WSE reigns soo-preeme!!! And most importantly, I'm the commentator once again!

Jack: Actually, Boom Boom, you won a match to determine the WCWF commentator. As you just said... the WCWF is gone. So... guess what that means?

BBQ: You don't... YOU CAN'T!!!

Jack: YOU'RE GONE!!!

BBQ: Damn you Jack Hoff! Damn you... straight... to... HELLLL!!!

Jack: Oh, I love you to, Boomer. *turns to the camera, microphone in hand* Ladies and men who look like ladies... I know I've got some explaining to do. Why did I say SmackRaw was cancelled? It's real simple. I KNEW WSE would defeat WCWF tonight... mainly because this entire show was booked just so WSE COULD defeat WCWF... but REGARDLESS!!! With WCWF defeated, that leaves Nitro open as a brand!

MB: ... Huh? I'm the guy writing this, and even I don't understand what that's supposed to mean!

Jack: It means, WSE has the Nitro brand now! Because we defeated WCWF!

MB: ... But isn't "Nitro" property of WWE?

Jack: We Win Everything?

MB: NOOO, the OTHER WWE. They bought out Nitro, along with everything else that goes along with WCW...

Jack: But Shane-o... YOU'RE the one who created Nitro! Remember? WCWF Nitro!

MB: Oh, Jack, that was back when I was young and stupid. Now... I'm older and stupid! And I know that in reality, Nitro could never be the product of any company besides Vince McMahon's!

Jack: Well, Shane-o... that's the deal right there. This ISN'T reality!!! THIS... is the Middle of Nowhere! THIS... is E-FEDDING!!! And dammit, I believe e-fedding is a world where ANYTHING can happen! And in the Middle of Nowhere?

Anything WILL happen!

Jack: I swear, from now on, things WILL be different! Things will be crazy... they'll be nuts... they'll be CRAZY GO NUTS!!! And the most wild, out there, zany things that could NEVER happen in WWE, or TNA, or WCW, or RoH, or WHEREVER... they WILL happen here... here, in World Sports Entertainment!!! THAT... is a promise.

MB: Well, Jack, I hope this works out for you... mainly because I'm the one writing it, and if it DOESN'T work out, then you'll probably not exist anymore. ... So that'll suck for you. ... I think.

Jack: You're damn RIGHT this will work! Because the next show... the first episode of WSE's NEW franchise program... will witness the first EVER Nowhere Street Fight! The first episode... of WSE Nitro. It's been a long time comin', and it's finally happenin'! Nitro... has been REBORN!!!

MB: Welp... that's great. ... Can I go to bed now? It's almost 3 in the morning...

Jack: Sure, Mac, you can go... TO HELL!!!

[Suddenly, Stung catches Mac Bry, and drops him with the reverse ddt known as The Scorpioned Deathdropped... which crashes MB's skull into the canvas. Stung, Wright, Sucka, and Cage all stand behind Jack Hoff, as he looks into the camera, with a sick, twisted smirk...]

Jack: EVERYTHING... and anything... will happen in WSE. Just you stupid marks wait... things are about to change... and business?

Business has JUST begun to pick up...

[Jack drops the microphone, before all five men raise their hands into the air, in a five man line of solidarity... proving that WSE truly does reign supreme...]

[... even over its creator.]

|to be continued|