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| Monday May 24th, '04 |
| |Scene: The Shanes' office, where Mac Bry sits with his feet up on the desk, ear deeply embedded in a phone conversation. The camera is able to pick up Shane's end...| MB: Yeah, I think they're going to do superbly. Thanks so much for the hook-up for this influx of talent. I'm sure NWA-An'E won't be needing these lose- er... "superstars". Anyway, see ya later Shiavonne. *click* [looks at the camera, looking a bit flustered that the camera caught that last bit] Uhm... that was TIMMY Shiavonne. MB: ... MB: GET THAT GOD-D@MNED CAMERA OUTA- Camera: ***static*** ======================================= |The opening promo begins, showing off Da Dead Guy's battle in the Annihilation Chamber, almost beating every single man in the match, until Triple S came out and put an end to DDG's aspirations. Peticure, 1... 2... 3. SSS retains. We see the closing shot of Nitro, Trips holding the title high into the air... before the promo cuts quickly to static... the sound of a toll is heard... once... twice... and we are taken to a graveyard... One grave in particular, where a man in a long, dark robe is standing before the stone, hat on his head, and biker gloves on his hands... He stares down at the headstone... before walking off to the side... Thunder flashes above as we slowly zoom in, and the name is revealed... |"Scissor Slash Simpson. Rest.... in.... peace." [extra dollar added to the price of the headstone for every dot... what a rip-off.]| |And we head to the arena, where pyro sets off on the stage and around the ring in the beautiful Gordon Gardens. Good ol' BJ is manning the commentary desk, alongside Spazz, the Thug-lifed Bread Basket. And awaaaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaay, we gooo!| BJ: ALRIGHT FOLKS, AND WE'RE LIVE FROM THE PLACE AND THE THING AND THE HELLFIRE AND KEYSTONE~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111 Spazz: Thug-life born, thug-life bread. When I'm dead, I'm still a thug. Now that I've said my line, can I go? BJ: Sure thing. Spazz: Great. This is going to be the easiest paycheck I ever cashed. BJ: Alright folks, we're gonna take you down right now and show you how you kick off the second show of the GREATEST, DOG GARNED SPORTS-ENTERTAINMENT PROGRAM SINCE WWF JAKKED!!! That's WCWF Nitro, where the impossible... IS POSSIBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! x infinity |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 he's gathered through his storied career through more than ten promotions. 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...| |Shane walks down the ramp, before rolling into the ring, and picking up a microphone from Jack Hoff. Lifts it to his mouth, and here we go.| MB: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to be the barer of bad news, but we're going to have to kick things off with some 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 Bradshaw from the WWE ran into the helpless cat's litterbox and landed a vicous CLOTHESLINE TO HELL!!! But anyhoo, tonight, after Triple S totally KILLED last week (ch'yeah, right... last WEEK?), the WCWF is starting to form into an even greater company than the former incarnation ever could have dreamed of! And it all begins at the top of the program with a six-man tag team table elimination match! Featuring a few of my new superstars, including the second best stable in the sport today: D-Evolution! Ug, "Pretty Boy" Toyy, and Father Time, vs Edje, and two other new members of the roster: Jippy Jam the Japanese Jughead, and Ass Head, Bitchy Bunns! Oughta be a slobberburner! Plus, the heroic little turd that couldn't, The Drizzle, will be taking on all three members of La French Fries! FiFi, Pierre, and The Frog! As well as the debuts of "The Headache Kid" Ron Mitchells, the Booger Man, and the Applebees Witness Protection Agency!!! 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!!! |And with those words, a huuuge blast of fire-like pyro blasts over the stage, and as the smoke clears, Creed is playing "What If" right in front of the packed crowd! What a way to kick this shindig off! Pyro, loud singing, and flashing lights. Just what this show needed! And as the mini-concert is happening in front of the curtain, behind the curtain, and back in the hallways, a couple of jobbers are standing around talking about antidisestablishmentarianism, when up walks...| Jobber #1: SHANE! Shane: That's Mr. McMahon to you, jobber. Jobber #2: Yeah, jobber! Jobber #1: Dude, you're a jobber too. Jobber #2: Uh... no, I'm not... Jobber #1: Uh, ch'yeah you are! Just read the name next to your quotes! It says "Jobber #2" Jobber #2: Uh... oh yeah... Shane: Well, anyway guys, I have some major business to attend to, so if you don't mind? Jobber #1: Oh, sure, of course boss. Shane: Thanks. [walks past the jobbers] Jobber #2: You're still more of a jobber than I am... Jobber #1: Shut up. Jobber #2: Bu- Jobber #1:No, seriously, we're only given about three minutes of airtime to build up the higher level members. Backstage walk-bys, playing the federation's latest video games... that kinda sh!t. Jobber #2: ... Damn. I suck at video games... ======================================== |We come back from commercials to a vignette honoring the wonderful life of "Gorgeous" Dick Hurtz, the famed Lithuanian wrestling superstar who died of food color poisoning. Dick... we'll miss yas.| |Ok, probably not.| |The camera opens up to the ring, where Jack Hoff is ready for the announcements.| JH: Lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllladies and gentlefolk. The following contest is the tag team table elimination match, and will feature SIX, count 'em, SIX men. First, weighing in at a combined weight, they are this sport's second greatest band of bad boys... Ug, "Pretty Boy" Toyy, and Ffffffffffffffffffffffffather Time! |"D-Evolution is a Hardy Boys Mystery" by MotorSport hits the PA (what did the PA ever do to deserve that?), and out comes the three members of the... well, you've heard the hype. The second greatest stable in the sport. The past, the past-er, and the prettiest human alive that ISN't a woman. Or Michael Jackson. That neglecting the fact that there really isn't much of a difference...| BJ: Ug, a former caveman, then frozen under a mounatin of ice, now thawed out to become a wrestling superstar, is quite the muscleman, I tell ya what. Along with the man that could quite possibly be THE most influental man in the sport... mainly because without him, we wouldn't still be seeing the Hulk Hogans and the Roddy Pipers and the Mick Foleys. Without Father Time, we wouldn't have the pleasure of enjoying middle aged, over the hill, past their prime dinosaurs stumble about the ring while younger bucks get the shaft. Thank you Father Time... thank you indeed. BJ: And a' course, there's dat dad gum pretty boy, "Pretty Boy" Toyy, the prettiest dam man I ever did lay muh eyes on. Uh... I ain't gay though, nosiree nob. Er... bob. |D-Evolution stands at the top of the stage, before- BAM!!! Chair to back of all three men, one after the other! It's-| BJ: TRIPLE S! TRIPLE S!! BY GAWD, TRIPLE S!!! The Mang-ah is in the house, baby, and he's a house a-fahr! He's throwin' some catch-as-catch can chair shots to dem dar scalded dawgs, and der ain't a medic in the house tonight! Hey, Shane may go all out for pyro and theatrics, but when it comes to first aid? Fughedaboutit... |SSS grabs Ug, kicks him in the gut, and drops him face first on the steel with the Peticure!!! Peticure to Ug! Peticure to Father Time! Peticure to... wait, Toyy's actually lining up for the Peticure! Must not be his first... Anyways, Peticure to Toyy!!! All three men a laid out wreck on the stage, and it looks as though Trips is making a statement. Which is, when he wants to make a promo, he's GOING to make a promo, no matter WHO he has to Peticure to get to his precious microphone. SSS steps into the ring, and grabs the mic out of Hoff's hand.| SSS: I've had just about enough of this show just going on, and on, and on without anything being centered around ME! So right now, I'm going to make about a twenty minute speech, without really saying a d@mn thing! So, get back from those concession stands and bathrooms, and listen up GOOD!!! Now, I've heard the talk in the back, the yap-yap-yapping about how the only reason I beat Da Dead Guy was because I had four other guys kick his @ss before I even entered the ring. Well, I'll tell you this. That's not true! The truth is, I PAID DDG to do the job! So suck on that, b!tches! But just to please the marks in the crowd, I'll also say that there's no chance in hell DDG could beat me, even if it was in a one-on-one match! And to prove that, I'm going to beat up two jobbers you've never heard of! Cuz I AM the Mang-ah, and I am that dern JAWZVM!!! |Jippy Jam and Bitchy Bunns are in the ring. There's your entrance.| BJ: Triple S goes immediately off on the Jap with a runnin' knee to the jaw, jackin' dat dam Jap into the turnbuckle! SSS slams into Quadruple J with a massive clothesline, before tossing Jam into Ass Head, who stumbles back for no apparent reason. ... |SSS suplexes Jippy Jam into the air and on top of Ass Head's waiting gut, before making the cover for the one, two, but no three. This really p.o.'s the Mang, seeing as he just plain HATES having to really try in a match. SSS whips Jam into the ropes, and on the rebound catches him with a sidewalk slam. Trips then picks up the Bunns Man, gripping him in body slam position, before... uh... body slamming him. On the mat. Which kinda hurts.| BJ: A little bit. |Hey, did I ask you for a comment?| BJ: Well... I'm the commentator. TC: NO, I'M THE COMMENTATOR!!! |SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!!!| BJ: ... TC: ... |Good, god d@mmit... Triple S bounces off one set of ropes, the other, and drops a knee ontop of both bodies. He goes for the cover, gets a two, and now he's REALLY ticked. He picks up Jippy Jam, who quickly throws in a few roundhouse kicks, a spin kick, a shuffle kick, a sidekick, and a medium boot [cuz you KNOW this little man ain't got no BIG boot]. And through every single karate style kick this little Japanese tosses out, Triple S simply takes them with a yawn. He stretches, kicks JJJJ in the gut, Peticure, 1, 2, 3, and Jam has been eliminated. Ass Head leaps off the turnbuckle just as Trips turns around... but SSS catches him! He stares out at the crowd... before hitting a running sideslam!!! Triple S drapes over an arm, and picks up the one... two... three. And Triple S has won in record time. What was that... a negative minute?| |He reaches over to the mic that was dropped earlier, still down across Bitchy Bunns, and speaks, still covering the Ass Head.| SSS: Let this be a lesson... to every single computer nerd who says I got where I did by sleeping with the boss's daughter! How does this disprove that fact? It doesn't. But if you can imagine that Rob Van Dam deserved a World Title shot, you can damn sure imagine that this is as concrete an answer to your silly rumors as any real evidence! Now suck on that, because I'm the Mang-ah, and I am THAT dern LEET!!! BJ: Ya heard it here first, folks, from the mouth of this sport's patron saint! The best there is, the best there is now, and the best there will be until he gets tired of Mac Bry's trashy ho of a daughter! Everyone's standing in ovation for another show stealing performance by the World Champ! Bravo, Trips, Bravo! |Triple S poses on the turnbuckle, spitting orange juice in the air, holding a gavel high into the air, as the cheers escelate, as we head to more YJStinger ads...| ==================================================== |We come back to Mr. McMahon's office, where D-Evolution is standing before Shane. They're all screaming and shouting at the same time about being manhandled by Trips, as Shane just talks into his cellphone.| Shane: I need this done by the end of the night... yeah... sure, the main event would be perfect. Ok, I'll be expecting him. *click* Ok, one at a time. Father Time, you first. FT: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Fatboy on the SpaceMountain! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Shane: ... Ug? Ug: Durrr... Ug no know. Shane: ... Toyy, please help me here. Toyy: (looking into a mirror) Man, have you seen these teeth? They're as white as Michael Cole, without the irritating drivel he calls "announcing"! Shane: Could you please tell me why you guys are here? Toyy: Oh yeah, uhm... I think your champion Peticured these two. But he seemed sorta nice to me... real nice... ... Uh, what was I talking about? Shane: Ohhh, so these two are complaining about MY boy, eh? Toyy: Yes sir, but I'm not. I'm totally fine with him. Shane: Hmm... well then... YOU'RE FIRED! Toyy: Yeah, ya hear that Ug, Father Time? Your @sses are GON- Shane: No, no, no, YOU'RE FIRED! As in YOU, dumb@ss! Now get the hell out of my office! Toyy: Bu- Shane: I said GET!!! Toyy: FINE! TRIPLE S ISN'T AS PRETTY AS ME, ANYWAY! You go to hell Mac Bry! You go to hell and you DIE!!! Shane: I will, and I shall. Thank you very much. |The door slams shut, as Shane stares at the other two men before him. One, woo'ing. The other, ... looking about half comatose. Shane taps his fingers on the desk... and smiles.| Speakers: "Stand back! There's a slight chance of rain comin' through!" |The camera opens to the stage, where the Mammoth-Tron shows a cheap, carboard cut-out of the Drizzle "flying" through an obvious blue screen [obvious especially since somebody forgot to turn on the projector on a few of the clips...]. The fans come alive... after apparently being woken up from sleeping through the last several minutes. I guess those ear-bleedingly loud speakers have a purpose after all... A thin man, around 5'3", leaps out from behind the curtain and onto the stage. The guy wears a long, sparkling purple cape with a big, blue, quilted rain drop stitched to the back. He wears a purple face mask that's about an inch high, covering only his eyes. Unfortunately... he forgot to cut out any eyeHOLES. Sort of a bummer, but I'm sure it's nothing a superhero can't work through. Other than that, he wears a pair of dishwashing gloves, some rainboots, some SpongeBob pajama pants, and a T-shirt that has the rain drop logo hastily scrawled in felt-tip marker. The Drizzle rushes down the ramp, slapping a few hands on the way, before sliding into the ring, and hopping on the turnbuckle, saluting the fans. They salute him back, proudly declaring him "Number One". The Driz leaps off the posts, preparing for his opponents.| |"Genius in France" by Weird Al Yankovic plays over the PA system, and the crowd... is slowly beginning to resemble that of a BoB show... this isn't looking good. Three men walk out, all dressed in the exact same blue and red robe. No, seriously, they're all snuggled up into the same coat. Kinda reminds me of Stuck on You (Now on DVD at all fine retailers).... It seems as though our budget is also beginning to resemble that of BoB's. The three men waddle down the ramp, before sliding into the ring... well... they TRY anyway. Pierre [the one with the long mane of dishwater blonde hair], slides in first, nearly ripping their coat... as FiFi [a man with a decidedly girly name] gets caught up in the ropes a bit... but finally pulls himself in. The Frog [the leader, with a nice, dark brown crewcut] is dragged into the ring by the other two. The three pull themselves up by the ropes, and finally stand up. They begin to take off the robe, as The Drizzle is beginning to get a little impatient. They turn around to throw the robe out to Jack Hoff... and the Drizzle springs into the air, coming down at them full force! And as soon as he's coming down, Pierre and FiFi scamper out of the ring like| BJ: SCALDED DAWGS! SCALDED DAWGS! SCALDED DAWGS! Or scalded franks, for our French viewers. I think... Aw hell, I really don't give a two dollar steak... [This leaves The Frog in the ring to take the brunt of the Shower, Drizzle's special splash to the outside. Froggie's partners gone [like the EVIL FRENCH B@STARDS THEY ARE!!!], Driz is left to take on Frog in a fair, honest, one-on-one contest. Driz whips Frog toward the guard barricade... but Frog simply hops onto the barrier, and begins doing what he likes to call the "Frenchie Foo-Foo", aka a hop from one foot to the other. Unfortunately for him, he loses his balance and hangs himself up, split-legged on the barricade. Drizzle runs toward frog, leaps into the air, and nails the Shimmering Warlock. Froggie falls into the fans, and the Drizzle stands ontop of the barricade.. Frog makes it to his feet, and the Drizzle springs into the air... coming down on Frog with another Shower! The two tumble further into the crowd, trading fists throughout the aisles, across the balcony, and ontop of the empty seats [which the two men luckily found quite the quantity of]. The Drizzle goes in for a leaping clothesline, but Frog ducks under, and turns around, dropping Driz with the reverse DDT. Frog then heads up a few rows, and stands ontop of one of the empty seats... He stares down at Driz menacingly... no... he couldn't! He wouldn't!] BJ: HE DID! BY GAWD HE DID! The Frog just hit the devestatingly devestating Frog Splash on the Drizzle a few rows below!!! He leaped over this proud, upstanding American audience who paid gosh-near their entire paychecks for two seats at this show, and this is the respect they get? IT'S AN OUTRAGE!!! LET'S SEE A REPLAY!!! [Frog rolls down the rows, audience members getting out of the way to avoid the yucky French cooty germs. Frog slams to the bottom row, and the Drizzle pulls himself up, looking down to the floor level... before climbing a seat... Frog slowly gets up, and... DRIZZLE FLIES THROUGH THE AIR! Or... atleast jumps into the air and allows himself to be carried down to the bottom, mainly via the help of the crowd/mosh pit. Drizzle is finally tossed into the air by a fan in the bottom row, and he falls right on top of the Frog, with the third Shower of the night! The two tumble over the barricade and back to the ringside. They trade fists on the floor, rolling around across the padded ground. Frog stands up, ditto on the Driz, and Drizzle flings himself at Frog... who simply sidesteps, sending Drizzle crashing into the hard, metal turnbuckle. Drizzle stumbles back a few feet, and- 1.2.3! The Frog just rolled up the Drizzle from behind, and the ref made the quick three count! I wasn't aware of this being an anywhere falls match... Wait a minute... the ref's pulling at his face... it's a MASK!!! It peels off, revealing...] BJ: OH BY GAWD!!! It's... no, it couldn't be... it's... BY GAWD IT'S DDB!!! [The man, with long, golden locks and a dark blonde beard, wearing a golden mask, sort of like Drizzle's, only a bit bigger... he lifts his hands in the air, forming the shape of a rectangle... the Mammoth Tron shows three letters: D-D-B. DDB? What the hell does that stand for? This "DDB" turns toward the Frog... Frog smiles and extends his hand... the man accepts... Before pulling in Froggie and hitting a wicked cutter!!! This "DDB" lifts the signal into the air once more, before breaking it over his knee, and yelling out "BOOM!". He turns around, hops the barricade, and runs out through the fans, as the program fades to commercial...] ========================================================== Jack Hoff: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, is for the Shanecore title, and is going to probably last all of 30 seconds. First, in the ring at this time, he hails from XPWviLlE, uSa~!, and is a former seven hundred and a half time XPW Xtreme, Death Match, Japanese Chainsaw Lightbulb Table Loserweight Champion... XtRmKoR!!! [Camera pans over a man in bandages from head to toe, and a kendo stick firmly stuck in what's left of his right hand...] JH: And... his opponent... from the fiery pits of HellfireN'Brimstone, New Jersey... standing at 7 foot 5, wieghing 300 and 72 pounds, he IS the current Shanecore champion... KRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!!! [BOOM! Fire erupts on the stage, and "I'm Listening", by Finger Eleven hits, as the monster, former radio psychologist Krane emerges from the curtains. And folks, we're sad to say, but Krane lost one of his most beloved relatives last night. Yes, Cousin Frasier Krane died tragically in his sleep to the killer virus known as 'Seriesfinalitis'. He was diagnosed a few months ago, and was in the care of his step-father Ned Benson Crane when the tragedy occured. Frasier was only 11 years old. He will be missed.] BJ: Krane charges into the ring, as XtRmKoR launches toward the behemoth... but this does no good, as Krane simply grabs Xt in his arms, lifts him above his head, and slams him down with a monstrously monstrous monster slam! The ring shook on that one, lemme tell ya what! Krane picks up Xt, clamps his hand around the Xtreme One's throat, picks him up, and quickly slams him back down with a vicously vicous chokeslam!!! BY GAWD, HE NEARLY... did... something... HURTFUL!!! HIS BACK COULDA GONE OUT OR SOMETHIN', I DUNNO, I DON'T WRITE THIS SH!T! AND WHY AM I TALKING LIKE THIS! I DUNNO, I'M CRAZY LIKE A MOTHAFVCKA!!! [Krane for the pin cover, and gets all of it. Your winner, and still Shanecore champ, Krane. Now, let's head backstage...] ["DDB" is walking through the halls backstage, and comes up to the Shanes' office... He smiles smugly, and rasps on the door, before Mr. McMahon opens up, and lets DDB come in... now, if I was smart, I'd say DDB must be who Shane was talking about on the phone, and he's probably going to end up running in on a shocking 'swerve' in the main event... But I'm a stupid wrestling narrator who has to build up the supposed "suspense", so I'll just give the trademark; What's this all aboot?] [Elsewhere backstage, Frank the Interviewer is standing beside HollyRock, who looks to be in mourning over his grandma's, cousin's, brother's, aunt's, stepchild's, sister-in-law's, lawyer's kitten, as he is wearing black sunglasses. Nevermind the shamelessly self-promoting T-shirt, and broad smile he's wearing from talking to his agent about yet ANOTHER upcoming movie he's going to be taking about a year and two days off for... But hey folks, as soon as Wrasslemania comes, you can count on SantaRock droppin' by to put a couple of jobbers in their place. He may even have a match with Hack Hokin, wouldn't that just be swell?! Anyhell, Jack the Interviewer begins.] Hank the Interviewer: S- HR: (grabbing the mic and cocking back his head) FINALLY....................... the HollyRock, has-come-back... after a lengthy vacation away from his home, this lovely, beautiful, caring place I call home... uh... what's this federation's name again? Jim the Interviewer: (whispering) WCWF... HR: Oh yeah. FINALLY, the HollyRock, has-come-back, to... uh... this place! Maybe I oughta start phoning in my promos and you can just tape a cassete player to the back of a cardboard standup... That always works. Anyway, as you all know, that d@mn Bradshaw from that other company over there in that one state KILLED MY GRANDMA'S, COUSIN'S, BROTHER'S, AUNT'S, STEPCHILD'S, SISTER-IN-LAW'S, LAWYER'S KITTEN, and you, Janet the Interviewer, have the very GAUL to ask me how I feel? Tom the Interviewer: Uh... no... actually, I was going to ask you for your auto- HR: MY AUTOGRAPH DOESN'T MATTER!!! ... I mean... No, no, no, no, scratch that... Jill the Interviewer: But- HR: BUTS DON'T MATTER!!! Craig the Interviewer: Y- HR: Y'S DON'T MATTER!!! Dill-hole the Interviewer: Now, come on- HR: Here, put this cheaply manufactured, $599.99 T-shirt advertising my greatness over your flabby man boobs. (tosses Phillip the shirt. It lands over his face) Now, since Bradshaw wants to be the roodie-poo jabronie he is, I'm going to have to take it out on his candy @ss!!! Or atleast... a reasonable facsimile. And that is why I'm challenging any man in the back... that looks slightly like John Layfield, and that has the common un-decency to change his name to that which would be a crappy, half-@ssed rip-off of JBL's name. And when he steps in that ring, and he tastes the pie of death, he WILL................. SMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLL AAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLALALALALALALALLALALALALALLALALALA, LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME RIGHT NOW OR I'LL BE FORCED INTO AN UNCONTROLLABLE RAGE, LALALALALLLALALALALALALALALALALA............................. what the HollyRock........................... is.......................................... ... HR: ... Bob the Interviewer: ... Uhm... ok, thanks Holl- HR: HEY! Look at what I can do! [lifts his eyebrow] George the Interviewer: ... Uh... that's... great, HollyRocky... HR: .................................. cookin'. Look at it again! I can even move it up and down! See! [moves it up and down] SEE! Jeoffrey the Interviewer: Uh... I think... I'm going to go see what good ol' BJ is doing... (walks off, stage left) HR: BUT! HEY! Dammit... [Krane walks by after killing a man] Hey! Wanna see what I can do with my eyebrow? Krane: I can't talk without a voice modulator. HR: ... But you just did. Krane: ... Aw shit. ============================================== [Camera opens back up to WWE's Bradshaw, who is sitting in a recliner, sipping on a bud, feet up, cowboy hat on... not exactly looking like the "self-made millionaire" he's portrayed as on CNBC... Bradshaw peers to the side at the camera, and smiles, before flipping off 'King of the Hill'.] Bradshaw: Hey, folks. You may be wondering, 'Hey Bradshaw, you're sitting in a recliner, sipping on a bud, feet up, cowboy hat on... you're not exactly looking like the "self-made millionaire" you're portrayed as on CNBC, and of course, the great, all-mighty, powerful WWE... Whatsuptidat?' Well, if you're wondering this, you're probably that Raw jobber Hurricane. So you're opinion really doesn't matter. But what DOES matter is the fact that I'm getting $2,000 for some crap federation in St. Louis to use my gimmick, with a slightly modified name. And ya know what? That pleases me. So, without further adieu, please welcome... BADSHAW! Hahaha, God, this fed must suck... [John cracks open another can, as we head back to the arena, where "Shout 2000" by Distubed is playing over the system, and out comes... a man that looks almost IDENTICAL to Bradshaw... pre-JBL Bradshaw, that is. This guy has the long black hair, the beard, the long pants with the... wait, is that that AOL man? Yes folks, this is Badshaw, and... hold on, another man is coming up from behind... a black man... no... it couldn't be...] BJ: Yes it folks, it's Badshaw and Frook, the Applebee's Witness Protection Agency!!! The two baddest men from CousinLovin', Arkansas!!! They're here to instill fear, drink beer, kick rear, and take home a cozy check for nothing more than three moves! Oh hell yeppers!!! [The AWPA stomps up the stairs and into the ring, as the audience is... hey, why are they filing out? The show isn't even half over yet!] BJ: Maybe that's why... [Dammit... the brand new tag team stands in the center of the ring, and it looks as if Bradshaw got more for his money's worth in this match. It seems we're going to have a[nother] handicap match! "If ya smeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala......... uh... line?" is heard over the speakers, before Madonna's "Hollywood" plays, and out comes the Media's Champion. HollyRock quickly slides under the bottom rope, the AWPA laying in the throttling boots to the back of HollyRocky, before he kippups and goes to town with right after right. Right for Frook, right for Badshaw, right for Frook, right for Badshaw, Rock tosses Frook into the ropes, lifts him up, and drops him back first with the spinebuster, then a clothesline over the top for Badshaw. Rock bounces turns back to Frook, grins, kicks the big bad black man's arm over his chest... before looking up at the camera. His grin widens... he takes off the elbow pad, and throws it at the lens, before bouncing off the one rope... the other rope... then the first rope again... and then the other rope... and the first, and the second, and the first, and the second, and the first, and second, first, second, first, second, first, second, 1st, 2nd, 1st, 2nd... ok, I'm starting to get the idea that HollyRock has forgotten to do the Media's elbow since he's been off filming... And unfortunately for the mega, super duperstar, as soon as he bounces off the first set of ropes one more time, Badshaw comes in and hits a simply horrendous- BJ: CLOTHESLINE! STRAIGHT! TO! HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!! He's dead! He's dead! By gawd, HollyRock's dead!!! As gawd as my witness, that man is starring in a new muli-billion dollar movie coming out this summer, starring alongside Bret Hart! Rundown 2: Kill Bill Goldberg!!! BY GAWD!!! [heart attack, but he comes out of it] That was a close one. Third time this week... [Badshaw goes for the cover: 1... 2... kickout! HollyRock kicks out, and immediately gets to his feet, before getting in position... Badshaw stares into HollyRock's eyes... they come in close to eachother, staring deeply into eachother glistening pupils... their noses meet... could it be the Rundown? The big, bad, boot? Something? Anything? They continue to stare deeply into eachother's eyes... before... they kiss.] [...] BJ: BY GAWD! BY GAWD! BY GAWD! THE DREADED... uh... LIPLOCK! Yeah, that's the ticket... [Uhm... GO TO COMMERCIAL! GO TO- ======================================================================== ["s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s- sWo! We in da hoooouuuuse." 'Back in Black' blazes across the speaker system, and FINALLY, the crowd comes alive, as we finally have some REAL stars. The camera cuts to black and white mode, with static filling in a few portions. And out walks the three arch-saints of this phenomenon we call shane's World order; Hack Hokin... Kevin Slash... and Shane-o-mac Bry. Hack strums the air guitar, Slash lifts the Dog Pak sign, both with their tag gold strapped tightly around their waists, as Shane simply stands with his arms folded, eyes peering out through grey-trimmed shades. He extends a hand to the techie, who places within his palm a microphone. Shane lifts it, and speaks, as his men guard his sides.] MB: My fans... my dear, beloved, adoring fans... [pop from row to row]... As you may have seen today, depending on whether you stuck around after Creed's tragic flame accident, where Scott Stapp was unfortunately set ablaze by a ball of pyro on stage... before being put out by a shower of holy water from his Lord God who thou art in heaven... *gasp* God, these writers must have been working hard to cram these sentences... If you stuck around at the beginning of the show, you no doubt saw my boy Triple S lay waste to two future Jobber Hall of Famers. After his Match of the Year Candidate, Trips was on the way to his lockeroom... when he was attacked by that lowdowned, no gooded, sidewindering Headache Kid, Ron Mitchell!!! [loud booing] With a chair! [louder booing] AND HE DID IT WITH A SMILE ON HIS FACE! [loudiest booing in the world!] Now, since I'm the Chairman of the company, I COULD fire him, thus taking his livelyhood away from him, and taking food out of his kids mouths... but I don't want to let him off easy. So, I've devised a plan. A DASTARDLY plan. A B@STARDLY plan. A dastardly, nastardly, b@stardly plan! I'm going to lock Ron Mitchell... with EDJE... [loud pop] ... in a CAGE... [louder pop] ... IN THE MAIN EVENT!!! [loudiest pop of 'em all!] This will show that b@stard exactly what he gets when he messes... wit' da s. Cuz what happens, boys? Slash: When ya mess with the s... Hack: Ya die like the rest, BROTHER! MB: Peace. [raises the mic to the crowd, who can't contain it anymore, and pop like their lives depend on it. "Back in Black" plays the squad back to the lockeroom...] [We cut to a promo, which shows yet another new guy, this time the man named The Booger Man. TBG walks through a darkened voodoo store, with a sign on the wall that reads "Eye-of-Newts-R-Us". Booger stops at what is apparently the action figure aisle. He picks up a figure, as another customer steps to his side, looking at a couple of stuffed three legged dogs. Booger pulls the action figure arm, and suddenly, the other customer sticks his arm out, looking befuddled. Booger pulls out the other arm of the toy, and the customer's other arm does likewise. Booger then proceeds to make the figure do a little jig... as the customer is seemingly going nuts, all without the knowledge of the Booger Man. Booger finally just tosses the action figure back on the shelf... and the customer leaps into the shelf, sending it crashing to the floor.] Booger: Man sucka... you be on some kinda drugs, a' somethin' sucka? Yo, I needs ta be gettin' me some a' dat shiznitch dawg, naw' mean? Now can... you... dig... that... Papa Shango: Can I be helpin' ya mon- Booger: SUCKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! [He shakes his forefinger in front of his eyes wildly, shouting - ] 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1 time, 1... Papa Shango: DAMMIT, MON, YOU GONNA TELL ME WHY YOU CAME 'ERE OR NOT, MON?! Booger: 1 time... huh? Oh... oh yeah, sucka. I came here to be chillin' wit' some a' dat crazy voodoo dat'choo do, naw' mean? Sucka? Papa Shango: Uhm... well, we've got a great deal on all five eyed toads... other than that, all we have left after that huge blowout sale last week is this toy aisle that your friend knockd over... Booger: Hey man, I don't even KNOW that Sucka... you be sellin' any dat shiznitch he be on? Ya got the hookup, SUCKA? Papa Shango: Uh... we're not that kind of shop, mon... Though it would be a reasonable mistake, given my heritage... mon. Booger: You jamaican, eh? Papa Shango, henceforth known as PS: I think... or I might be a pimp. Booger: ... PS: Don't ask. Booger: So, what kinda toys ya got, sucka? Any you can blowup? PS: Uhm... we're not THAT kind of shop either.... But we DO have a nice rack- Travis: Heehee... rack. BobHead: He said rack... PS: - of magic slapjacks. Merely holding one within the same ring as an opponent instantly transforms that opponent into an uncontrollable jobbing machine. 'DONG' Booger: Yo... what the hell was that? PS: Oh, that's just the grandfatha' clock, mon. It's set to go off at 12. Booger: Wait... you sayin' it's... PS: Midnight, mon, yeah. Night of the full moon. Booger: No... it couldn't be... D@MMIT, DAWG, GIVE ME THAT SLAPJACK!!! Dawg, there's no way of surviving da... 'DONG' Booger: Da... 'DONG' Booger: DA DEAD GUY!!! [And as soon as this name escaped Booger's mouth, the lights shut off...] Booger: Yo... Shango... you there, dawg? Sucka... SUCKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Come on, dammit, don't leave me hangin'... no... it can't end like this... I can't end it like this... Once you go up against Da Dead Guy, there's no escapin' the job... and once you're jobbed... there's no resurrection, dawg. It's like... it's like... 'Dead Career Walkin' Booger: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [Thunder crackled through the room, as for a split second, Booger could be seen... but instead of the Papa being behind him... it was the figure... of DDG. Eyes rolled into the back of his head, and black trenchcoat flapping in the gust... the lights black out once more... and all that can be heard is the slapping of a hand on the floor... for the one... two... three.] [Triple S... He's heeeee-eeeeere...] ========================================================== [The camera opens back up to the ring, where Pete Trabel is inside, on the stick, throwin' down a few mad rhymez. Yo.] Pete: Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, YO! Chill, chill, chill, chill, chill, chill, chill- Audience: GET ON WITH IT ALREADY!!! Pete: Aaaaaaaaaaa'ight. See, we got a little killa', who's just a little man. To make stinky in his diapa', must always be his plan. Cuz he's just a little BABY, from just southside of he', A little place called Parts Unknown - Now throw my @ss a bee'! BJ: OH GY MAWD!!! That HAD to be the WORST d@mn rap these ears have EVER heard! And they've lived through Vanilla Ice, MC Hammer, AND Eminem!!! BY DAWG!!! [Trabel throws up some various signs that only two members of the crowd understand (which is about a 5 to 50 ratio at this point...), before "X Gonna Give it to Ya" shoots off from the speakers, and the crowd is going wild for the smallest man from all the land of Parts Unknown: Trike, the little Killer!!! Yes, the baby brother of Bi and Motor, the Cycley Brotherz! That never actually existed.] [...] [Trike slips into the ring under the bottom rope, and Trabel immediately drops the elbow to the little man's spine. Pete picks up Trike, whips him into the ropes, and slams him into him with a back elbow. Trike instantly falls to the canvas. Trabel bounces off the ropes, comes up before Trike, dusts off both shoulders, and brings down a fist... that connects! With the mat! Trike rolls out of the way, and under the ropes to the outside. Trike recouperates against the barricade... Pete looks to the outside, a grin slowly dragging its way across his mouth... and he springboards off the top rope!!! Trabel flies through the air, towards the resting Trike Cycley... and Peter connects! With the barrier! Trike rolls out of the way, grabs ahold of Trabel's head, runs up the barrier, spins around in mid-air, and brings Trabel's skull crashing down with the Cycley Cog!] [This being an anywhere falls match (which all WCWF matches shall be from now on. Why just now? SHUT UP!), Trike goes for the cover: 1... 2... kickout!!! Trabel kippups, throws Trike over his shoulders, and goes for the F-U-B-U... that connects! With Trike! Yes, Trabel actually hit a move and DIDN'T end up in a mild concussion! He rolls Trike over, goes for the cover, and picks up the 1... the 2... and the 3!!!] BJ: TRABEL HAS DONE IT! BY DAWGS TRABEL HAS DONE IT! TRABEL HAS BEATEN A MIDGET WHO'S NEVER HAD A MATCH TILL THIS DAY, WHO WEIGHS ABOUT A DIME AND TWO NICKELS WITH HIS CLOTHES ON! DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES! DO YOU BELIEVE IN LIFE AFTER LOVE! DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE EXISTENCE OF EXTRATERESTRIALS! DO YOU BELIEVE I'M ABOUT TO HAVE A HEARTATTACK?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE LUCKY?! WELL? DO YA? PUNK!!! [Pete is on his knees, holding his Cardinals baseball cap tightly to his chest, tears rolling down his eyes, as the confetti and balloons fall from the sky.] Shill: WHATTAMANEUVRE!!! ===================================================== [After the umpteenth commercial break (commercial break brought to you by Pillsbury, Meineke, and Smilin' Bob's Lubricant), we open up back in the ring, where Jack Hoff is ready to announce.] JH: Llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll... llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllladies, and, gentlemen. Tonight, in THIS very ring, you will bear witness to a masterpiece of orgasmic wrestling pleasure. Two tag teams; one, consisting of Quadrupleteen time tag team champions of the wooooooooooooooorld... Mario Mario, and Luigi Mario............................................................. THE MARIO BOYZ!!! [A streak of pyro whizzes through the air, and collides with the stage, causing a massive ball of explosions to set off. "Do the Mario [Nuclear Bob-omb Remix]" by Captain Lou Albano, Ozzy Osbourne, and Alice Cooper hits, and out come the WCWF's prize team, infinity time tag title holders, and all-around good guys. Mario and Luigi fly down the ramp, slide into the ring, and- BJ: DOUBLE W TO HOFF!!! Dem Dern Marioz have just taken out Hoff, and taken OVER the microphone!!! Let's see what they have to- Mario: WAAAAZZAAAAP! Luigi: WWWWWAAAAAAAZZZZAAAAAAPPPPPP!!! Mario: AAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPP!!! Luigi: ZZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! [The Marioz lift the peace sign into the air.] BJ: - Uh... what the hell was that? Hoff: And their opponents... first, he is a former seventeen time Lucha Heavyweight[that's sort of an oxymoron, eh?] Champion of the World- er, Mexico... El Enchiritoooooooooooooooooooooooo Deluxe'!!! ["Mucha Lucha" by Fox Kids! hits the airwaves somewhere in Tijuana, and the fans all... flock to Tijuana. D@mn hippies... EED, dressed in standard generic Luchadore gear, stands on the stage, hands on his hips, as he smiles through the leather Lucha mask. Before- being trampled by the running Lear, who's wasting no time on her entrance to run down to the ring and lay in her first beating in the WCWF. EED lies broken in half on the stage, as the EMT's rush down and bring the champion Luchadore backstage to... put him back together...] [Lear immediately goes into the ring, and whips Mario into the ropes... before tossing him over the top rope with the backbody drop. Luigi comes in with a clothesline... but Lear simply drop-toe-holds him into the corner, before ramming her knee repeatedly into the back of Luigi's skull. Lear grabs onto Luigi's hair, and pulls him out of the corner, before tossing him back in, back-first. Lear starts choking out the plumber with the back of her arm, Luigi thrashing wildly to break the hold, but Lear just keeps rollin', rollin', rollin'. Lear backs up to the other post... and charges in like a steam train... before leaping into the air, and crushing the wind out of Luigi with a splash! Luigi stumbles out, and Lear facebuster him into the canvas. His head bounces hard off the mat, and Lear smiles wickedly... before being nailed from behind with a clothesline! Mario back in the ring, and he starts laying in the boots to the spine of the Women's Champion. Luigi slowly pulls himself up and joins in on the assault... when Lear Lear's up! She shakes her fists, and bobs her head, before pointing both forefingers at the Mario Boyz! A right for Mario! A left for Luigi! A right for Mario! A left for Luigi! A right for Mario! A left for Luigi! A right for Mario! A left for Luigi! A right for Mario! A left for Luigi! A right for Mario! A left for Luigi! Copy + Paste! Copy + Paste! Copy + Paste! Copy + Paste! Copy + Paste! Copy + Paste! Copy + Paste! Lear slams their heads into eachother! She bigboots Mario! Big boot to Luigi! She lines them up, side by side, before bouncing off the ropes, leaping into the air for the leg drop... and...] BJ: DOUBLE W! DOUBLE W! DOUBLE W! Lear has been layed out with the DOUBLE W!!! THANK GAWD FOR Copy + Paste! [The Marioz slap five, and- WAM from behind with the steel chairs!!! Hack and Slash have arrived, and wasted the Boyz, garnering a big ol' L for their girl's recordbook! But Lear doesn't care! Mainly because she's unconcious... H & S pound away on the bodies of the legendary video game legends, and continuously hit the brothers with the chairs. The sWo tag team lays down the chairs, before Slash picks Lear off the ground and throws her over his massive shoulder. The tandem begins to walk out of the ring... before Mario Mario grabs a microphone off the ground... where he just so happens to be.] Mario: *pant* Is that-a... *deep breath* is-a that-a all-a ya got?! Dammit-a, ... *sigh*, we's-a almost-a had that match-a won! You... YOU TWO WANNA PLAY?! Then-a le'ssa play!!! At the biggest-a playground of-a them all! Saint-a Patty's Day, the ppv! In-a the single elimination TABLES MATCH!!! If-a you gotsta meat-a balls, that-a is! [Hack and Slash, with Lear slowly coming to over Slash's shoulder, look back at the Broz., slowly nodding their heads... and grinning... We go backstage.] *************** [The camera is set on Shane-o-mac Bry's face, a smile plastered across, as he has brought the camera in to make an announcement.] "Tonight... our main event will feature two of the greatest competitors in this sport today. The Headache Kid, Ron Mitchell... and Edje. IN A SOLID STEEL CAGE!!! And that... is... NEXT!!!" Edje vs Ron Mitchell, in a cage match (Summary because I'm-a lazy: HAK has Edje down at the end, preparing to go up top for the Crappy Elbow, when the lights begin flickering black and white! Jimi Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" strums its way over the speakers, as the crowd sings happily along, and out come Hack, Slash, both Shanes, Triple S, Ben Joss from the announcer's booth, and Lear is still on the outside after her match. The song comes to "I'm comin' ta getcha'", and as HAK looks outside from within the ring... the lights go out. And as soon as they come back - BOOM! with the Borg cutter, and Ron is out like a light! Just like... well, just like they were only a second ago! DDB stands at attention, lifts the sign of the rectangle, and another BOOM! DDB grabs a microphone, and calls out Shane-o-mac Bry: one more time. Shane comes out smiling, believing he's got a new acquisition for the sWo. DDB smiles at Shane, who stands in the ring after the cage has been lifted. Shane extends a hand... DDB accepts... before pulling Mac Bry in for a third BOOM!!! DDB goes back to the microphone, and stares down at Shane as he proclaims that Da Dead Guy isn't the only man looking to dig Trips an early grave.) ============================================================================== [We open back up after commercial, Shane-o-mac Bry standing in the middle of the ring, obviously bruised and battered after that Borg Cutter at the hands of Dallas. Shane's grin from earlier has been replaced with a look of pure hatred. He grabs the mic right from out of Hoff's hand, and speaks.] "DAMMIT!!! Borg was supposed to come to ME! NOT BORG CUT ME!!! Members of the sWo do not betray their leader... but unfortunately, Borg was merely a POTENTIAL member... for even worse than that, an ACTUAL member of the sWo turned their back on me... So with that in mind, I would like to bring out-" [Suddenly, and with an abrupt cheer from the audience that has just so magically appeared in their seats, "I'm Back" plays over the PA!!! And yes folks, it's HIM!!! ... No, not Eric Bischoff. ... No, not AC/DC. ... No, not- DAMMIT, IT'S SEAN O'CONNOR!!! [loud cheer from the crowd] Sean stands upon the stage, his own mic in hand, grin from ear to ear, as he struts down the ring with a knowing gaze.] BJ: BY DAWGS! BY DAWGS! BY DAWGS! IT'S THE FORMER CHAIRMAN OF THE SWC ITSELF, THE MAN THAT WENT OUT OF BUSINESS SO THE WCWF SHOULD RETURN... IT'S NONE OTHER THAN SEAN MOTHER F'IN O'CONNOR!!! AND LIKE A RABBIT WITH RABIES, HE'S CHARGING DOWN THE RING TO MEET SHANE-O-MAC BRY, FACE TO FACE! NOW THIS IS WHAT I CALL A DAWG-GARNED MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING!!! Sean: Mmmheheh... well, Shane, ol' mate. Guess what? I'm baaa-aaack! Shane: Bu-bu-bu- BJ: SHANE LOOKS AS IF HE'S SEEN A GHOST!!! Shane: SHUT UP BEN! BJ: Sorry, boss... Sean: You may be wondering, how did I return after you bought the company, and transformed it back into that craphole you used to call the WCWF... and still do. Living in the past, eh Shane? Well, truth is, I made a contact with Shane... MCMAHON, and he has agreed that as long as I stay seperate from Nitro, I may have my own show in this fine company. And what show would that be, you may ask? Well, I believe it's quite obvious... BUZZSAW!!! Shane: [eyes widen to the size of saucers] BJ: BY DAWGS, BY DAWGS, BY DAWGS!!! Sean: Sorry, Shane-o. But as they say... business is business. And it's GOOD doing business with YOU! Shane: ... [stares on in horror, before filling with that vile look again, and snatching away the mic] DAMN YOU, SEAN! Damn-you-straight-to-HELL!!! You want to destroy MY company by bringing in your brand of putrid spit you call entertainment? Then I say unto you, Sean.... We'll just have to see about that. But, I'm sorta glad you're here. Because, as I was about to say before I was so RUDELY interrupted... I would like to bring out... Triple S! BJ: Oh... by... gawd... He's going to have SSS Peticure Sean. And I'm sure he hasn't had one of those in YEARS! ["It's all about the green" hits, as Triple S comes down with a smug look on his face. SSS strolls down the ring, completely ignoring the fans trying to call for his attention [what's new?] and he steps into the ring. Triple S stands beside Shane, putting an arm over his shoulder, as Shane continues.] Shane: Trips... I'm so sorry, boy. But things look as if they're only going to get worse from here. Ya see... you sorta let me down. [Trips looks a bit confused] See... when I was left out here... all alone... just ready to get Cutterized by that b@stard Borg... you were nowhere in sight. [SSS begins to look a bit... worried] And that doesn't really set well with me. So, that's why, I have no choice... but to FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE you. SSS: BUT! Shane: Nope, no buts. YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BJ: OH BY GAWD! I cannot believe it, folks! Triple S has just been fired- Shane: From the sWo of course. I mean, there's no way in HELL I'm firing this federation's #1 star! But, you are gone from the sWo! SSS: Which means? Shane: You'll have to pay ten cents extra to get into the buffet line. SSS: Okie dokie, danny. See ya at Teddy's? Shane: I'll be there. But first, could ya do a quick "throwing a tantrum because he doesn't want to be taken away" spot? Would really pop the ratings. SSS: Can do. Ahem... I'M NOT LEAVING, DAMMIT! THIS IS MY HOUSE! I BUILT THIS HOUSE! Shane: Hack, Slash, escort him to the stage, acting as if you're trying to get him to the backstage area, but really just setting him up for a convenient SWERVE~! [And so they do... dragging Triple S kicking and screaming... well, more like just pulling him along rather easily by the hands, sorta like a mother walking her child across a busy avenue... They get to to the top of the ramp, when... the greatest blast of pyro sets off on stage, nearly rocking the three men back a few feet. Faith No More's "Epic" trails across the speakers, and the audience is at its feet! Someone's coming... the curtain slowly draws open... and it's... it's... it's...] Sean: MEGADEAF?! Shane: That's MegaDEF to you, Seany-boy. I stole him right up from under your d@mn nose! I KNEW he would be the first man you'd be after to come over to your second-rate b-show, him being the very EPOCH of this business and all, so I did the smart thing and snatched him right up from under your nose! [Megadef, the towering monster he is, charges down the ramp, and slams into Trips with a giant clothesline, instantly knocking him, along with Hack AND Slash, down upon the cold, hard steel. MD then rushes down the ramp, slides into the ring, and runs into Sean with a bone-crushing splash!!! MD backs out, Sean stumbles forward, and- BJ: CHOKESLAM! CHOKESLAM! BY GAWD, CHOKESLAM! And now, I think I need to go down a couple of cold bottles of water for this laryngitis... [Sean falls to the mat in a crumpled heap, and Shane has a smile on his face that belongs more on the devil himself than a man. He picks up the mic one last time.] Shane; Sean... welcome to the newest addition to the s... W... ooo!!! And not only that, but also the new commisioner of the WCWF!!! And after being betrayed by both DDB and SSS, I've finally come to a decision for the World Title match at St. Patrick's Day. It will be Da Dead Guy... vs Diamond Dallas Borg... vs Triple S... vs MEGADEF!!! In a fatal-fourway, anywhere falls elimination match!!! And I'll tell ya right now... my boy's gonna win. Isn't that right, MD? MD: IT'S A GUARAN-DARN-TEE!!! Shane: And that's the bottom line....................... cuz Mac Bry has SPOKAAAAANNNNN!!! BJ: And all I can say to that is... BUY THE PPV!!! |cut| |