beep... beep... beep... boooop
We hear the familiar IWO flatliner as the IWO logo flashes four times in quick succession. This is immediatley followed by a flash, and twin explosions as we cut to the IWO camera as it pans quickly around the sold-out Pepsi Dome in Albany, New York. Pyrotechnics go off around the stage, ring, and in the rafters as we focus on signs held up in the crowd; everything from "Bob Job: Last Great American Hero" to "See, Mike? I told you there'd be flying pandas!".
The camera slowly makes its way across the ringside area, where it finally comes to rest at the announcers' table. We see Greg Parker, getting all up in your hizzy to welcome you to another addition of IWO Hostile Takeover. JT is playing with a gameboy.
GP: We are sold out in Albany tonight for Hostile Takeover! I'm Greg Parker, alongside, as always, JT, and WHAT A SHOW we have lined up for you tonight! Nuke, set to go one-on-one with Psycho Jay... these two men have some serious personal issues and so we thought it'd just be great for them to do it LIVE in that very ring!
JT: Where the hell have you been, Greggy? We haven't been live in ages. This whole thing is as fake as your mother's breasts.
GP: ...My mother's dead, you know.
JT: Yeah, dead sexy!
GP: Whatever. Also, tonight, we have four of the eight men in the Gold and Glory tournament set to take each other on in a tag-team matchup. And speaking of Gold and Glory, we have a Cruiserweight elimination tag match to determine who will face off at Gold & Glory for the number-one contendership to the Cruiserweight title!
JT: ..Isn't that just needlessly complicated?
GP: Yes! Now, let's get right to the action. Bob Job and Pen, set to take on the... wait a minute, what's going on up on the stage?
We cut to the stage, where a smoke machine seems to be malfunctioning and spewing grey smoke all over the arena.
GP: Well, that's odd. I wonder what could've triggered that?
The smoke is suddenly joined by soap bubbles. Thousands of tiny bubbles. Floating around the arena.
GP: I think I know what this is!
JT: You know, if one of those bubbles got in someone's eye, it could probably kill them. Then we'd have a lawsuit on our hands. Just thought I should say somethi...
JT is suddenly interupted by three blaring chuchbells, signaling the beginning of "Cyclops Rock" by They Might be Giants. The camera zooms to the stage, where we see none other than the Deadlier Sins; Jack Breaker, Aubrey Breaker, and Jake Walker. They charge the ring armed with deadly swordfish, which they pose with on the turnbuckles until the music dies down. They then settle into the middle of the ring, Jack with a microphone in his hand.
Jack: Hey, Albany? What's up?
Cheap pop. And a big one, at that.
Jack: Have you ever been standing in the middle of the cereal aisle at the supermarket with an empty shopping cart and sixty bucks burning a hole in your pocket and you just think to yourself, "Shit. I have to get from Baltimore to Albany in under thirty minutes"?
The crowd applauds at their common plight.
Jack: So, to make a long story short, Mr. Potato Head on my dashboard is screamin' "No! Slow down!" but the wind is in my hair and I've got chicken wings on my breath and I'm just thinkin' "Ooh, yeah." And then...
Jake echoes his words, to add emphasis.
Jake: And then...
Jack: I see the cop in my rear-view mirror.
Jake: Rear-view mirror.
Jack: I say to myself...
Jake: I say to myself...
Jack: I said, "Jack, don't put your foot on the gas and make that dirty pig eat your dust." But you know what? I did.
Jake: He did.
Jack: So, about an hour later, Aubrey shows up to bail me out of the county jail... and really, I just gotta say that you Albaniers have the nicest county jail I've ever been in. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.
Jake: Bottom of his heart.
Jack: No, Jake, we're done with the echo thing.
Jake: Dammit. I was just getting good at it, too.
Jack: Right. So, let's take a vote here. By a show of hands, how many of you want to see Simon Seaman run out of this arena tonight with Ash Robinson firmly jammed up his ass?
The crowd pops like crazy.
Jack: And how many of you want to see the World title belt wrapped around my waist at Gold and Glory!?
The crowd pops again.
Jack: And how many of you like CINNAMON TOAST CRUUUNNNCCHHH!?!?
The crowd goes totally apeshit.
And with that, the three Sins roll out of the ring and grab giant bazookas from underneath the ring. They point them at the crowd and launch tons of the delicious cinnamon-swirled cereal into the arena. "Cyclops Rock" then follows them as they hop the barricade and rush out of the arena through the crowd.
We cut outside of the arena. An ambulance pulls up, and out get two paremedics who open the back door. Bungle is helped off the back. He is wearing his normal brown bear costume and is also wearing a pink maternity dress....and he has a large stomach.
Bungle: I'm dying for some popcorn.
Paramedic: Are you sure you should be here tonight...you need to start thinking about two now.
Bungle: I've got to be here....I'm going to tell the father!
Bungle enters the arena and we cut somewhere else.
Tag Team Contest
The Nation of Retardation vs. The Italian Mobsters
GP : OK, this next match will suck.
JT : Wow, that was pretty honest.
GP : Well, I didn't see any point in lying to the fans. There's no use pretending that the Nation of Retardation vs. the Italian Mobsters will be anything but abysmal.
JT : I guess that's true.
Meygon : The following contest is set for one fall, and hopefully is NOT for any kind of shot at the Tag Team championships. Introducing first ... hailing from Freakville and a remote part of Lictenstein where midget hermaphrodites rule the land and normal people are few, respectively ... weighing a combined weight of 103 pounds, which is probably the most pathetic thing I've heard all day ... The World's Deadliest Inanimate Object and the Extreme Jobbing Sensation ... Bob Job and Pen, the NATION OF RETARDAAAAAAATION!!!
"Carnaval 2002" by Dario G plays as Bob Job steps out to the back, holding Pen in his right hand and guiding his cow Mary with his left hand. The two step out to a disturbingly loud pop, considering it's for a midget, a spatula, and a cow. Bob Job prances down to the ring and tethers Mary to one of the ring posts. He then climbs onto the ring apron (which takes somewhere from thirty seconds to five days - I lost count) and steps into the ring.
Meygon : And next ... they're horrible, so no one cares where they're from or how much they weigh ... Joey Sooner and Mikey Capitali, the Italian Mobsters.
Some generic Mafia theme music that goes with the Mobsters' oh-so-original gimmick accompanies the duo as they step out from the back and stroll down the ramp, looking angry at their slightly less than enthusiastic introduction.
JT : Do these guys STILL pretend that they're the heads of the entire Mafia?
GP : Sadly, I think they do. Although it's hard to tell when they never cut promos. Ugh, I don't see how I can stand the genericness for the rest of this match.
Hey, at least you're not the one who has to write it. The Italian Mobsters slide into the ring and snicker at Bob Job and Pen, not realizing that they themselves are probably the underdogs in this match. Bob sets Pen down in the middle of the ring and steps out to the apron, as does Mikey Capitali.
GP : Well, it looks like Pen and Joey Sooner will be starting this match out ... God, please make this one quick.
Joey stands around for a moment, looking confused. Finally, he decides to simply cover Pen. He awkwardly lies down on top of the spatula for the cover.
Ref : 1 ... 2 ... 3-
GP : Bob Job makes the save! This match could have been over already!
JT : Man, Pen is looking much less impressive in the ring than usual. Do you think he might be drunk?
GP : ...JT, he's a spatula.
JT : What's your point?
Joey stands up, looking irritated after being kicked off of the cover by Bob Job. Bob retreats back to the apron. Joey shakes his head and tags in his partner, Mikey Capitali. Capitali struts into the ring and picks up Pen. He throws the spatula into Bob Job's corner, motioning for Bob to tag in.
GP : Well, it looks like Mikey wants a piece of a LIVING opponent.
JT : What kind of name for a grown man is Mikey?
GP : Yeah, that's even worse than JT.
JT : Yeah ... hey, wait!
Bob reaches down and tags Pen. He steps into the ring and slides Pen out onto the apron with his foot. Mikey charges towards Job with a clotheline, but Job ducks and rolls him up in a schoolboy.
Ref : 1 ... 2 ...
GP : Mikey kicks out in the nick of time. Bob almost stole one there.
Mikey gets back up and boots Bob in the gut. He hooks him and lifts him for a stalling suplex, bringing him down hard. Bob oversells it, of course, bouncing a good foot up in the air and flopping around so much he falls out of the ring. Mikey rolls his eyes and goes to the outside in pursuit. He grabs Bob by the hair and slams his head into the apron several times.
GP : Well, the Mobsters may suck, but they're having a pretty easy time with Bob Job and Pen tonight.
JT : They wouldn't be if Pen would lay off the bottle.
GP : Pen is not on the bottle!
JT : Then what's that doing there?
JT motions to the empty bottle of Jack Daniels lying on its side next to the commissioner's spatula.
GP : You put that there! I just watched you do it!
JT : Yeah, whatever. Pen knows the truth.
GP : No he doesn't, because he's NOT ALIVE!
Mikey takes his time in walking after Bob, who is stumbling away. Suddenly, Bob grabs Pen off the apron and smacks Capitali across the face with him.
JT : INANIMATE BITCHSLAP~! INANIMATE BITCHSLAP~!
Bob picks the KO'ed Capitali up and rolls him into the ring. Sooner starts to enter, but Bob merely holds Pen up menacingly, and Joey retreats back to the apron. Bob performs the rather mother-fucking lucky pinfall of death, doom and destruction (Some form of regular pinfall with an Indian tribal dance beforehand) and covers.
Ref : 1 ... 2 ... 3!
GP : Mercifully, that was quick and ... OK, that's all I can say for that match.
JT : BLLLLOOOOODDDD!!! ... Sorry.
In the backstage area, Simon Seaman was seen relaxing in a silver lawn chair reading a copy of Teen People. With his feet up and a smirk on his face, he was somewhat in a positive mood going into the tag match that same night. Thumbing through the pages of his reading material, extremely loud noises were suddenly heard in the background. Choosing to ignore them at first, they began to get louder and louder until Simon was finally fed up and chose to do something about it. Looking up from his magazine, he noticed a gentleman in front of him with a beige jumpsuit on covered in dirt and dust. The man took off his goggles and waved his hands in front of Simon to get his attention.
Worker: Mister Seaman, sir?
As the sound died down a bit, Simon sought to shake the man's hand, but opted not to due to the uncleanliness of his glove. Sitting up from the chair, he put his magazine down and answered.
Simon: Come on, my man. You don't have to call me mister around here. I know you and you know me. We're becoming like a family so to speak. Call me Simon for goodness sake.
Worker: Are you sure? I don't want to cause you any discomfort.
Surprised at Simon's comment, the worker stood there slightly suspicious until the former world champion responded.
Simon: I don't see why not.
Worker: Okay then. Simon, we've...
Simon bolted up from his chair and quickly interrupted the individual, annoyed and appalled at him.
Simon: That's mister to you, pal!
In a state of confusion, the worker stuttered for a moment before saying what he needed to say.
Worker: Wait, I thought you just said I could call you Simon.
Sighing and almost breaking into phony laughter, Simon almost put his arm around the man to make him feel more comfortable, but chose not to get his white jean jacket dirty and merely patted him on the back.
Simon: Indeed I did and thank you oh so much for pointing that out. Though here's the problem. When I said you could call me Simon, I was hoping that you would say it correctly. Now I wouldn't say the way you said it was wrong in particular. In fact, it was more like positively, without a doubt, extremely, absolutely not right...at all.
Rather disappointment in himself, the worker glanced at the floor in shame.
Worker: Oh. So I guess you want me to call you mister Seaman from now on, huh?
Cringing in reaction to the question, Simon patted him on the back again before replying.
Simon: To tell you the truth, I'm not digging the way you pronounce mister Seaman either. How about you call me nothing at all and stop making eye contact with me, then I pay you the McMinimum wage that you're accustom to for this job and we'll call it even?
He stalled for a moment before answering Simon's query.
Worker: Sounds like a plan.
Simon: So is my little project moving along? Will my world title have a home?
Worker: Would you like to take a look at it?
As the two started to walk, Simon paused and added a sarcastic comment.
Simon: I don't know. Would you like to be a woman?
Worker: I'll take that as a yes.
Simon: I'm sure you would.
They finally stopped in front of a beautiful structure surrounded by other workers who were helping construct it. In its final stages of completion, last minute touches were currently being added to it.
Worker: Well, here it is. Just as you wanted it. Black marble stand, wooden interior, elaborate and bulletproof glass casing with silver frame...the works.
Nodding his head in agreement, Simon showed his appreciation for the object before him.
Simon: You have done quite a job with this, people.
The workers looked on as Simon applauded their efforts, but without warning, Simon walked up to it and knocked it over, almost destroying the entire thing in the process. Turning to face the people in charge of it, he threw a piece of broken glass to the floor in anger and raised his voice.
Simon: You see that? Did you see that?! Quite a job indeed. Such an excellent job that I decided to let you have the privilege of doing it all over again!
Glaring at the mess he made, he crouched down to observe the work they did.
Simon: Do you remember what I told you about the glass casing? I said twenty inches by forty and three quarter inches! You know what this is? Forty and a half! You should be ashamed of yourselves.
Kicking shards of debris aside, he began pacing back and forth incredibly worked up.
Simon: I'm not even going to comment on the stand. I specifically said jet black, but what do you give me? You give me the ordinary, bland, unoriginal kind of black. What do I look like to you? Do I look like I shop at Wal-Mart? Seriously, what kind of person do you think I am? Plainy Simpleton-Blandman III?
With the workers absolutely shocked towards Simon's actions, one of them walked up to him and tried to calm him down.
Worker: We're sorry, sir. Truly sorry. We'll get right on it.
Simon: Sorry?! You're sorry?! Sor...
About to throw a temper tantrum, he was able to law low and come to his senses. Shaking his head regretting what he just did, Simon made an attempt to sincerely apologize.
Simon: Look, I didn't mean to yell at you guys. You're all hardworking people I'm sure, just trying to make a living to support your families and just wanting to do a good job. In no way did I want to mistreat any of you in any way.
Dusting himself, he walked out of the mess and addressed the entire group.
Simon: Yeah, I'm just going through a lot of stress at the moment. I've got to tag with Ash Family Robinson tonight against some man who's hash is supposedly hairy and Jack Breaker or Break Jacker something or other. I have that tournament too where I probably have to wrestle three or four times, work at the concession stand, greet people at the door and most likely do a little dance and make a little love. Maybe get down that night, but I'm not positive. It's just too much.
Making his way back to his chair, he decided to cut them some slack.
Simon: Anyway, take a breather for a minute on me. I won't mind.
Worker: Thank you, sir.
Simon: No problem.
After about ten seconds, Simon returned in disbelief in reaction to the workers' apparent laziness.
Simon: Now get to work people. I don't pay you for doing nothing. I can't believe you're just sitting here. Look alive for once!
Running off in disgust, he left them alone to do what they needed to do as they simply stood there unwilling to continue. Seconds later, as one of the female workers chose to leave, the rest slowly followed.
We cut to Thomas Ford, sitting at his desk with a rather disgruntled look on his face. He is reading a dirty magazine when his phone rings. He answers his snazzy mobile 'cell' phone.
Ford: Hello... Who is this... BUNGLE! How did you get my number... The what? ...How did it get on the internet? ...You're what....well I can't be... I've never had sex with you... Thank god for that...
Ford hangs up and wipes the sweat from his forehead.
We cut to a locker room. A totally nondescript locker room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except for all of the silly string draping every available surface. We see Jake Walker, asleep on the floor and absolutely covered in the hilarious novelty item. We see Jack Breaker and Aubrey Breaker, relativley silly-string free, standing in the doorway snickering.
Aubrey: And you're sure Jake won't mind cleaning up all of this?
Jack: Hey. He fell asleep. It's his problem.
Aubrey: Doesn't he have a match, like, next?
Jack: Hmm. Yeah, I guess he does. Heh, wanna wake him up?
Aubrey: Nah, he looks so peaceful. Let's go get the janitor.
Jack: Why would we get the janitor?
Aubrey: He has a broom with a long handle.
Aubrey: It's not a good idea to be too close to Jake when you wake him up.
Jack: Oh, yeah... wait, how would you know anything about that?
Aubrey: You know. He used to sleep on Joey Malone's kitchen table, but then Joey changed his locks, so now he sleeps on the floor in our bedroom. Naturally, you wouldn't know anything about that, since you don't wake up till' two-thirty anyway.
Jack: Hey, just because I spend all day sleeping and playing Super Mario doesn't mean that I... uh... yeah. About that janitor. Let's go.
They take off down the hall, as we cut back to ringside.
Cruiserweight Six-Man Tag Team Elimination Match (w/ special guest referee Daniel Phillips)
Jackson Steele, Jake Walker, and cHEESE vs. Banderas, Bossa Nova, and Tommy Kane
GP: Well. Moving right along. The number-one contendership to the Cruiserweight title is about to be decided in the form of a six-man elimination tag match, with special guest referee Daniel Phillips, the self-proclaimed "king of the cruiserweights".
JT: Not to mention the... oh, wait, you mentioned that.
GP: Right. Let's get to Meygon. You know, `cause that's what we always do.
The camera cuts to Meygon. What, were you expecting something else? Well, that's what you get for expecting too much.
Meygon: The following contest is scheduled for a whole damn lot of falls, and something... blah blah. Introducing first, the special guest referee, from Pheonix, Arizonia, he is the IWO Cruiserweight champion, Daniel Phillips!
Daniel appears on the stage to an overwhelming chorus of boos. He's wearing a striped referee shirt and doesn't seem all-too-happy about it. He walks to the ring slowly as "Downfall" by TRUSTcompany blares over the sound of the crowd's disapproval.
Meygon: Introducing next, from Chicago, Illinois, he weighs in at two-hundred twenty-four pounds, one half of the Deadlier Sins, Jake Walker!
Jake hits the ring to the tune of "Cyclops Rock" by They Might be Giants. He slides in to a fair pop and stares down Daniel Phillips viciously from the safety of the opposite corner.
Meygon: Next, from Castle Rock, Colorado, he weighs in at two-hundred sixteen pounds, please welcome Jackson Steele!
"Titty Twister" by Diesel Boy follows Jackson out from backstage and down the ramp to ringside. He raises Mr. Bunny high above his head and climbs up onto the apron to a fair pop. He steps over the top rope and joins Walker with his glowering-ness.
Meygon: And their partner, from Dairytown, West Virginia, he weighs in at one hundred ninety-seven pounds and is a former IWO tag team champion, one half of the Legion of Dairy, cHEESE!
"Wide Open" by Soil hits as cHEESE approaches the stage. He raises his arms to the fans, who pop big as he rushes down the ramp and jumps up into the ring. He joins his partners and they do a little dance of some sort. Woohoo.
Meygon: And now the challengers. First, from Providence, Rhode Island, he weighs in at two hundred twenty-five pounds, Tommy Kaaaaannnneee!
"Slave to the Grind" by Kid Row blares throughout the arena as Tommy rushes down the ramp to a mixed reaction. He slides into the ring and forms his own little corner, where he glares at his opponents, who are busy glaring at Daniel Phillips, who's sort of passivley looking over at JT, who's staring at Meygon's breasts, who's holding two fingers to her temple and mouthing "kill me, please".
Meygon: And from Antioch, California, he weighs in at two hundred twenty-two pounds, Bossa Nova!
"Sorry About your Penis" by Smashmouth hits as Bossa Nova steps out onto the stage. The crowd buzzes a bit, but remains fairly indifferent as Bossa hits the ring and joins Tommy Kane in his glaring... and I just went over all of that.
Meygon: And finally (thank God), from... uhm... Istanbul, Turkey, he weighs in at twelve pounds, please welcome Band-aid! ... I mean, Banderas!
GP: Man, we should really stop letting Meygon drink on the job.
"Livin' La Vida Loca" by Ricky Martin hits and forces the audience into a frenzy as Banderas rushes down to the ring to join his teammates. Mercifully, the music dies down and the bell rings. The two teams struggle for a bit and eventually leave Jackson Steele and Tommy Kane in the ring. Jackson immediatley rushes at Tommy and they lock up. Jackson goes down low and tries to drive his shoulder into Tommy's gut, but Tommy arches his back to evade and breaks the hold. Jackson moves into a fighting stance, and Tommy uses this temporary distraction to swing an arm around his neck and lock in a front facelock. He wrenches Jackson down to his knees and drops an axe-handle chop on the back of his neck. Jackson goes down and Tommy steps over his head, bringing him up in standing headscissors position. He hooks around his waist and lifts him up, but Jackson manages to remain on his feet and flips Tommy over his shoulders. Tommy backflips and lands on his feet, prompting Jackson to turn around with a wild 360-degree clothesline. He connects and sends Tommy to the mat. Jackson pulls him up and whips him into the ropes. Tommy rebounds and slides between Jackson's legs. he catches his knees on the way and pulls him down face-first. Tommy then rolls Jackson over onto his back and hooks his leg. Phillips gets down to count, but takes his sweet time about it.
*ONE AND A HALF!*
JT: OOH, Jackson Steele barely manages a kickout!
GP: No, he had plenty of time.
JT: I know, I just wanted to know what it was like to be you for a change.
In the ring, Tommy Kane is arguing with Phillips, giving Jackson Steele a chance to sneak up and roll Tommy up. Phillips immediatley drops down to count.
GP: KICKOUT! Tommy Kane barely manages a kickout! He looks half-dead in there, JT!
JT: Why are you telling me that? You think i care?
Jackson takes a step back in anticipation of Tommy getting to his feet, and cHEESE takes the opportunity to tag himself in. Phillips signals the tag and forces Jackson to the apron. cHEESE charges Tommy. Tommy backs away, sending cHEESE into the ropes. cHEESE, however, manages to catch hold of Tommy's arm, and sends him into the ropes. Tommy bounces back and walks right into cHEESE's samoan drop. cHEESE covers, but Tommy gets the quick shoulder up. cHEESE tries again, bringing Tommy up and quickly dropping him with a backbreaker. He hooks the leg.
Tommy barely manages to shoulder out, and rolls away to his corner. He reaches to tag Banderas, but cHEESE grabs hold of his ankles and drags him to the opposite side of the ring. He yanks him up to his feet and stuns him with a few sharp jabs. He pulls himself up onto the turnbuckle quickly and hooks his legs around Tommy's neck. He then swings around with a hurricanrana. Tommy looks out of it, and cHEESE goes to cover.
Phillips calls for the bell and forces Tommy Kane out of the ring.
GP: Well, our first elimination! As you know, JT, the last two men standing in this match will go at it at G&G for the number-one contendership to the Cruiserweight title.
JT: I didn't know that, actually.
Banderas steps in to take Tommy's place. He charges at cHEESE, and gets caught in a drop toehold. cHEESE gets behind him as he stands up and nails a snap German suplex. Banderas gets to his feet once more as cHEESE charges with a short-arm clothesline. Banderas ducks and drives cHEESE to the mat with a facebuster. He gets on top of cHEESE with a somersault leg drop, then covers.
Kickout. cHEESE works his way to his feet and evades Banderas's wild right hook as he retreats to his corner and makes the tag to Jake Walker. Jake rushes in and promptly falls flat on his back, knees slightly raised.
GP: Well, Walker is really more suited to straight tag matches, but this is just crazy. What's going on with him?
Indeed. Banderas walks over to investigate. He stands above Walker and looks down. Walker suddenly springs into action, bringing his leg up and kicking Banderas hard in the jaw. Banderas stumbles back, and Walker rolls himself upright. He charges, drops down, and rolls at Banderas's legs, taking them out and bringing him down on his head. Jake gets up and Banderas does the same. Jake lifts him up quickly with a one-hand scoop slam, but Banderas counters with a backroll and quickly turns behind Jake. He hooks behind his head in a full-nelson, lifts him up, and slams him down in a sitting position. He releases the hold, and Jake rolls away in pain. Banderas pulls him upright and hooks for a suplex. Jake backflips, does a little handspring into the ropes, and bounces off with a back elbow smash. He connects with Banderas's face, and sends him reeling to his corner, where he makes a quick tag to Bossa Nova. Bossa leapfrogs the top rope and charges wildly at Jake. Jake hiptosses him. Bossa maintains his balance and lands in a three-point stance on his feet. Bossa snaps back and hits a high flipping dropkick, knocking Jake back into the turnbuckle. He then sets him up on the top rope and hooks for a superplex. He lifts Jake off his feet, but Jake pulls to the side and lands on the apron, pulling Nova's arms into the ropes to break his hold. He then flips over the top rope, lands in a sitting position, grabs hold of Bossa Nova's shoulders and rolls through with a monkey flip.
GP: Wow! Amazing sequence of moves by Jake Walker! This guy might've found his knack out of the tag team division!
JT: This is a tag match, isn't it? Dumbass.
GP: That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is..
JT: Why don't you just shut up?
Back in the ring, Jake has Nova in a standing side headlock. He raises a knee to Nova's chin, three times in succession. Nova drops to his knees, and Jake flips over his shoulder, bringing the back of his neck down stunner-style. Nova drops to the mat, and Jake hops up onto the turnbuckle. He splits his legs, springboards, corkscrews, and lifts a knee.
GP: There's the Dark Side of the Moonsault! The Dark Side of th... NO! Bossa Nova gets out of the way! Jake connects with nothing but mat! Now Bossa Nova covers!
GP: No! Daniel Phillips, fast-counting Jake out!
GP: MY GOD! Jake Walker kicked out! He kicked out!
Daniel and Bossa both stand incredulous in the ring as Jake slowly gets to his feet. Bossa quickly swings a forearm, connects, and sends Jake back down. He covers again.
Jake puts his foot on the bottom rope.
Phillips sees this and discreetly kicks it off.
Walker gets his shoulder up. Bossa Nova gets quickly up and tries to hold Jake back but he manages to make the tag to cHEESE. cHEESE charges in with a shoulder block, sending Bossa Nova flipping to the mat. Bossa grabs cHEESE by the ankle and pulls him down to the mat. Bossa takes a few kicks to cHEESE's ribs until cHEESE gets to his feet and charges at Bossa. Bossa jumps and hits a flying facecrusher. Bossa dives on top with a hard cover.
GP: That's it! cHEESE is eliminated!
Jake Walker rushes in to take cHEESE's place. Banderas tags himself in on Bossa Nova's back and rushes at Jake. Like a matador, Jake sidesteps and sends Banderas into the ropes. He rebounds right into Jake's 3/4 turn neckbreaker. He covers, but only gets a two count. Jake goes to tag Jackson Steele. Jackson plays it safe, hopping around the outside of the ring, sizing Banderas up. Banderas shoots in, but Jackson backs up and drives Banderas to the mat with a senton splash. He then lifts Banderas up and knees him in the gut. Banderas doubles over, and Jackson elbows him in the back of the head to drive him to his knees. He hooks in a standing headscissors, and lifts him up for a powerbomb. He stalls for a few seconds, and Banderas uses the opportunity to land a few punches to Jackson's head. He spins around and rolls him up.
*ONE TWO THREE!*
GP: Oh, there's the fast count by our "king" of the Cruiserweights. Just for the hell of it, it seems. What does Phillips have against Jackson Steele?
JT: Ha, take your bunny and walk, you freak!
GP: Well, in short succession, Jake Walker's team goes from three to one. Can he stil keep on top of Banderas and Bossa Nova?
JT: But more importantly, who the hell cares?
GP: I do.
Jake Walker stands to his full height and stares down Banderas. Jake grabs him quickly and whips him into the turnbuckle. Jake then hops up and does a handstand on the turnbuckle, taunting Banderas. Daniel Phillips comes over, shoves him off, and grabs his wrist to symbolize illegal use of the ropes.
GP: Hey, there was nothing illegal about that! Daniel Phillips is just trying to be a bully!
JT: What are you, in middle school?
Walker slides back into the ring and faces down Daniel. They start arguing, and it leads to shoving. Daniel shoves Jake, and Jake shoves him back. Daniel forces Jake into the ropes, and threatens to call for the bell, but Banderas calms him down and goes after Jake with a flying cross body block. He almost carries Jake over the top but Jake slides under the bottom rope and sends Banderas flying into the announcer's table. He climbs back to his feet and gets into the ring. Banderas charges, and Jake stops him with a forearm. Banderas is a little woozy, and walks right into Jake's waiting arms. Jake takes him down, hooks in a Mexican stretch, and lifts him up onto his shoulder. He sits down, driving Banderas down to the mat.
GP: There's the Purple Haze! Or something like that! I forget, actually! What's important, though, is that Walker covers! Daniel isn't counting... he's on his knees now...
GP: Hum dee dum, Phillips is slow-counting...
GP: Looks like Banderas is gonna kick out... this has been at least a five count...
GP: PHILLIPS IS FORCED TO COUNT THE THREE!
*DING DING DING!*
GP: It's over!
Meygon: Here are your winners, Jake Walker and Bossa Nova!
GP: Those two men will square off at Gold and Glory with the number-one contendership to the Crusierweight title in mind... and there seems to be something brewing between Jake Walker and our Cruiserweight champion, Daniel Phillips...
Indeed. Phillips raises Bossa Nova's hand in victory. Jake steps up to have his hand rasied, but Daniel simply snubs him and leaves the ring. Jake leaves too, after a mild celebration.
The cameras cut backstage, to Tom Ford' office. We see Tom sitting at his desk, accompanied by two figures.
"Nobody else here baby, no one else here to blame. No one to point the finger... It's just you, and me, and the rain..."
President Ford: I hope you'll be able to do your job to the best of your ability.
Ford looked at his two newest employees -- the new security force, you could say, of the IWO. One, the male, was dressed with a bowler hat and a trenchcoat on. His face, barely visible.
The other was a female. Her blonde hair was in full view. Her eyes twinkled, a whipped-up wave of the sea blue. A short blue skirt on, a white blouse. Neither held an expression except one of frank seriousness on their face. Jeremy Yorba, Jenna Freebish, two known hitmen for the Mob.
Jeremy Yorba: We plan on it.
"HEY IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS... AND IF GOD WILL SEND A SIGN...
AND IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS... Would everything be alright?"
Ford looked at the contracts they had just signed. The last few papers. He hadn't just signed a security measure to that much money, had he?
He had. It was right there, the black ink a curse that he wish he had never allowed himself to be put under. An upside guarantee, a downside guarantee. They had given him the rounds -- but he was working against five different mobs. New York, Chicago, San Francisco, hell, there was a mob working in Toronto and Edmonton. He didn't know that. They apparently had managed to carry over the mafia protection services, too. If they stepped out of line, did illegal things, hell... hell. He couldn't do anything to them.
And they could still work for those mobs, as freelance hitmen. This was a painful, pitiful corner he had written himself into.
But, either way, Ford put on a smiling face.
Ford: I hope to enjoy your services without any cause for drastic measures.
Yorba: We'll find out if there'll be cause, won't we?
Ford extended his hand, and Yorba took it. They shook. Ford looked Yorba in the eye, and he saw nothing. Cold air running in the iris. Cold water in the veins. Even his hands were cold, almost icy.
Ford could only think, I've had a legal department sign me a pact with the devil. He kept up the facade, though, and moved his hand over, shaking Miss Freebish's hand as well.
"It's the blind leading the blind. It's the cops collecting for the cons. So where is the hope and where is the faith ... and the love?"
Ford: Welcome to the company.
The two left, leaving Ford alone with a tiny stereo in the corner, spinning U2's "If God Will Send His Angels".
He needed an angel, right now. Or else... he knew everything was going to go to hell.
"HEY IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS... AND IF GOD WILL SEND A SIGN...
AND IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS...
Would everything be alright?"
We cut elsewhere backstage, Bungle is there in his pink maternity dress and bump. He knocks on a door. It is opened and standing there is Skitzo Tod.
Tod: I didn't order a pizza.
Bungle: Really? I'll eat it.
Bungle: I've got some big news... can I come in?
Tod is confused, but Bungle pushes past him into his locker room.
Tod: What is this about?
Bungle: I've got some news about the father of my baby.
Tod: Ok, but what does that have to do with me?
Bungle puts his hand around Tod.
Tod: It can't be me....we've never had sex! And your male!
Bungle: I'm sorry Tod, you're not the father.
Bungle drops to his knees.
Bungle: I'm so sorry! I don't know what I was doing... I will never... never... NEVER... cheat on you. I don't want you to leave me... please... help me bring up the baby... We can make this work.
Tod: You've got problems
And we cut back to ringside. Not a moment too soon, as it seems.
"Downfall" by TRUSTcompany blared.
GP: And let the great ass-kissing campaign begin!
JT: Oh, come ON. Daniel is awesome. I want him to team up with Simon Seaman and they could DESTROY the IWO, and possibly bring this stupid federation out of its web casts and no television!
Out came not just the IWO Cruiserweight Champion, but also Those Damned Mexicans, and they all sneered at the crowed that booed the trio.
GP: This is the team that screwed cHEESE out of advancing in the Gold and Glory tournament! What the hell are they doing with Phillips?
JT: Haven't you heard? They're now a team! A cohesive unit! They shall rock the IWO as God and Subordinates of God!
GP: ...I thought SEAMAN was your God.
JT: Oh, Seaman's God, too. They're, like, both God. Yeah.
Phillips and TDM entered the ring, and Phillips forced Meygon to give him her microphone. "Downfall" stopped playing, and Daniel looked around at the crowd that booed him.
Daniel Phillips: You know, I've been in this company for just two months, now, and I gotta say... you people are really starting to get on my fucking nerves.
Phillips: Night after night, I have to come out here and listen to you disrespectful retards ruin my good fucking mood with your banter and your booing, and your whining that I happen to be a respectful champion in this business. Well, for this very reason, Diablo, Edguardo, and I, collectively known as the "Knights of the Landfill", have prepared a list of people to say "fuck you" to.
Edguardo pulled out a large sheet of paper with the front and back filled out, and many spaces all around the paper seemingly cramed with dedications as well. Edguardo took the microphone and began reading.
Edguardo: Ladies and gentlemen, this "fuck you" goes out to one High Flyer and one Tony Davis. Thank god there's only one of each of you, because this entire world would commit mass suicide if there were more than one of Team VIAGRA. You have been avoiding Diablo and I ever since you won the tag titles from the Legion of Dumbasses, and therefore, we say "fuck you".
Edguardo handed the list and the microphone to Diablo, who took it and read off another list.
Diablo: This "fuck you", is, of course, dedicated to one Santa Claus. Santa, gringo, FUCK YOU for bringing your pasty, fat, white, nonexistent ass into our business! Yeah, I'm sure you're out back right now, making love to all eight of your reindeer, but if you can hear us, fuck you, we've got Marc Sanchez to bring us gifts on Christmas!
Diablo handed the list and the microphone to Phillips.
Phillips: I understand that we're probably pressed for time, so before we get on with the dedication, I'd like to say "fuck you" to the entire video crew out back who's telling us to move on with our segment.
Phillips: Our next... "dedication", goes out to Bossa Nova. Why? Because he exists, and his existence offends the rest of existence, and therefore, he must cease to exist. So fuck you, Bossa Nova, for even existing.
Daniel paused again, taking in the massive boos that he's receiving.
Phillips: To Tom Ford, and AWS Commish (also known as Dictator), fuck you for not giving us the opportunities that we so deserve. Fuck you for doing such a fucking horrible job in running this atrocity of a wrestling program, and fuck you for managing to get Joey Malone back on the air just to watch him destroy the IWO just a little more by killing our television deals. With that in mind, I thought I'd give off a bit of a fuck you to Joey, too, but I think that goes without saying.
The fans are nearly booing the Knights out of the building. This caused Phillips to approach the ropes, climb up onto the first rope, and lean toward the crowd and the camera.
Phillips: Yeah? Well, fuck you all, too. Fuck you, fuck your mothers, fuck your fathers, fuck your significant others, fuck your dogs, fuck your cats, fuck your turtles, and fuck your grandmothers.
JT: Hear that, Parker? Phillips hates your grandma.
GP: He said "fuck you", to you, too.
JT: No way, I'm exempt.
Phillips: Now, I have about another page and a half of people left to say "fuck you", to, so, I guess we'll continue...
"All For You" by Our Lady Peace hit. The crowd cheers simply for the interruption of the KotL's tirade against everything that wasn't them. Out came IWO newcomer, Coral Avalon, with a microphone.
JT: Who the fuck is this guy?
GP: Well, that's a newcomer to the IWO, Coral Avalon. Whom the Knights ROBBED last week on Hostile Takeover.
JT: ...and who is he?
Phillips was unimpressed, though, as he glanced over toward Coral and glared at him.
Phillips: What. In the fuck. Are you doing here?
Avalon scratched his head and responded.
Coral Avalon: Well, now that you mention it, I did come out here to get my money back.
Phillips and TDM looked at each other before Phillips responded.
Phillips: Money? What money?
Avalon: *sigh* The money you took from me? I mean, uh, I know it's not a lot of money, but I kind of need all of the money I, uh, can get, so if you can just return it to me, I'll be on my way and leave you guys to your *enthralling* segment.
Diablo took the microphone from Phillips and responded.
Diablo: Hey, gringo, why don't you get your snot-nosed ass out of our business? Who the fuck are you, coming out here and disrespecting us?
Avalon: I was under the impression that you guys didn't have respect to begin with.
Now Diablo was a tad miffed.
Diablo: Well then, who the hell do you THINK you are? I'VE NEVER EVEN SEEN YOUR PUNK ASS BEFORE!
Avalon: The name's Avalon, and I guess I'm here to challenge you to a match, since you're not going to give me my money back.
Edguardo took the microphone.
Edguardo: Yeah? And who exactly would you have for your partner? Hmm?
"Geronimo" by Unwritten Law hit. The fans erupted, for it was Donnie Daze who was answering the call to arms. Daze walked out to the entry ramp next to Avalon.
JT: No! What's THIS idiot doing out here?! Hadn't he had enough from Daniel from Beach Party?!
Avalon: Does that answer your question?
With that, both Avalon and Daze raced to the ring and immediately got into a brawl with both members of TDM. Unfortunately for them, while they were brawling, Daniel slipped to the outside and grabbed a metal folding chair. He slid back into the ring and thwacked Donnie Daze over the skull with the chair, allowing Diablo and Edguardo to catch Avalon with the Mexican Death Drop.
GP: The numbers are just too great!
JT: They're BOTH idiots for even messing with the Knights!
All three members of the Knights smirked at their adversaries before they left the ring to the sounds of TRUSTcompany's "Downfall".
GP: *sigh* I don't think Daze and Avalon are too thrilled at this.
JT: Duh. Who do you think you are, Captain Obvious?
Captain Obvious popped up next to Parker and JT, wearing the World's Most Ridiculous Hat.
Captain Obvious: Dude...there's only one.
JT (averting his eyes): NO SHIT, CAPTAIN OBVIOUS!
Captain Obvious: SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDEN.
With that, he disappeared. Parker turned to JT.
GP: ...I think I'm blind from that hat.
JT: Y, yeah, me too. Ow.
World Tag Team Championship
Team V.I.A.G.R.A. vs. Jenna Freebish & Jeremy Yorba
GP: Well, let's travel back in time to the year 2000...
JT: No way, we did NOT find that time machine again... because I'm not going to that ancient whore house with you again to get laid. I mean, sure, it was cheap as fuck, but I came home with an itch that I just couldn't get rid of! Remember the cream? REMEMBER?!?!
GP: ... Uhmmm... yes, I do remember... *Ignoring JT* This match is also the debut of Jenna Freebish and Jeremy Yorba...
JT: No one ever listens to me...
GP: That's right JT, they're trained martial artists. They're like body guards without a job, so they decided to go into professional wrestling. I'm not sure what actual wrestling skill they have though.
JT: I just want to hold someone damnit! That's all I want!
GP: No JT, this isn't a first blood match... Meygon?
Meygon: This next match, is scheduled for one fall, and is for the IWO World Tag Team Championship belts!
"Ninja Music" a collective mix by IWO producers plays over the pa system as the fans rise to their feet. Out from the back walk Jenna Freebish and Jeremy Yorba, mostly to an unknown response from the crowd. They slowly make their way to the ring.
Meygon: Introducing first, the challengers. Weighing in at... What is this. Jenna doesn't want her weight said? Fine, I understand... fattie... Anyway. They are Jenna Freebish and Jeremy Yorba!
"Ninja Music" dies down, as it's replaced by "I Hope You Die" by the Bloodhound Gang. And a rather large pop.
Meygon: And their opponents, they weigh in tonight at a combined four hundred and forty three pounds, and are accompanied to the ring by Rob Kestler. High Flyer, Tony Davis, Team V.I.A.G.R.A.!
Out from the back walk V.I.A.G.R.A., Flyer and Davis holding a tag team championship each up in the sky. Kestler panders behind them, playing imaginary hop skotch on his way to the ring. Flyer and Davis quickly roll into the ring, as Freebish and Yorba don't wait, immediatly laying the boots to the champions.
**Ding, ding, ding**
GP: The Freebish Yorba combination isn't waiting for Viagra, already out of the starting gate with an advantage.
JT: Well, come on, doesn't everyone who faces Viagra have an advantage. Like, intellectually?
GP: Well, unless their name is... fuck, you don't even have a name. I keep forgetting.
Yorba and Freebish take Flyer and Davis to their feet after a few stomps, and whip them off the ropes. Simultaniously, they both catch Viagra with leaping side kicks, both of which snap Viagra's heads back almost like a bobbing head doll. Davis rolls to the outside, clutching his neck, as the referee escorts Freebish out of the ring. That leaves Flyer and Yorba inside, as Yorba begins to viciously soccer kick Flyer in the ribs and the midsection.
GP: You can hear those kicks just sounding out in the arena.
JT: Where's the blood packet!?! INTERNAL KEN SHAMROCK BLEEDING~!
Flyer rolls over into the corner, and holds himself up by the bottom rope. Yorba takes this advantage with repeatedly stomping the fallen Flyer four times, before the referee began to pull him away. Yorba tossed him aside, as he went right back to his stomp attempt. Going for a running boot to the face, Flyer ducked at the last second, wrapping Yorba hooked between the bottom and second rope. Flyer then got to his feet, grabbing Yorba by his neck and delivering a running neckbreaker drop.
Holding his midsection, he did two rolls over to his corner and dive tagged in Tony Davis.
GP: Here comes Davis!
JT: And the ring just got stupider!
Davis begins climbing up to the top rope, and waits for Yorba to get to his feet. When he does Davis flies off, attempting to nail Yorba with a flying clothesline. Yorba's able to catch him in mid-flight, and throws him down in a front judo slam. Davis lets out a cry, as Yorba pulls him to the corner, and makes a tag into Jenna Freebish.
Yorba holds Davis down on the mat, as Freebish climbs up. She then leaps off the top rope, planting her boots square into Davis' chest, knocking the air out to say the least. She quickly drops off, and lands on her feet, turning around with a smile to see the gasping Davis laying prone.
GP: What a vicious double foot stomp!
JT: Why don't these people just stay on top after they stomp. Wouldn't that be ten times more effective?
GP: Stop making kayfabe seem stupid.
Freebish goes over and picks Davis up by the hair, thrusting him face first into the turnbuckle. She lays back with two vicious knife edge chops, before taking a look towards Flyer. She points, before charging and knocking Davis silly with a leaping side kick to his skull. Davis collapses in the corner, as Freebish makes the cover.
Davis gets his foot on the bottom rope in time for the referee to see it. Freebish slams her hands against the mat, before making another tag into Jeremy Yorba.
GP: Yorba and Freebish are taking it to the tag team champions right now. Maybe Ford paid good money for these two for a reason.
JT: Well, I never said FORD was stupid, just ninety percent of the talent he hired.
Yorba climbs into the ring, slamming a few elbow shots to the back of Davis, before throwing him off the ropes. Davis returns, but not after being blind tagged by Flyer. Davis bounces off the other side, sliding underneath Yorba, and as he turns around, Flyer springs to the top rope, wraps his legs around Yorba's skull, and hudaconrada's him.
GP: What a move!
Freebish climbs up top, catching a stunned Flyer with a missle dropkick to the neck. Flyer crumples down, as Freebish is then immediatly taken by the referee and attempted to be set back in her corner. She however, takes offense to this, kneeing the referee in the midsection before side kicking him to the Freebish/Yorba corner.
GP: NO! That's just a referee!
Davis walks over to Freebish, who immediatly lifts him up for a stun gun, dropping Davis skull on the top rope. As he wanders around dazed, Y&F take hold, and sandwich him with a double leaping side kick. Davis crumples down to the mat, as Yorba makes the cover.
**ding, ding, ding**
GP: WHAT?!? New tag team champions?!? What does this mean for Gold and Glory?!?
Yorba and Freebish look a little stunned in the ring, as Meygon regains her footing.
Meygon: The winners of this match, via disqualification... High Flyer, Tony Davis, Team V.I.A.G.R.A.!
Y&F seem histatic, and luckily for Flyer and Davis, they've rolled themselves out of the ringside area, taking their titles and making their slow walk up the rampway. Yorba and Freebish look down at the referee with anger, before he also quickly makes his leave. At the top of the stage, Viagra hold the titles high, as the IWO - Tron has a question behind it...
"The best cult team is...?"
Just outside the entranceway, Simon Seaman leaned over a control panel shaking his head. Next to him sat a member of the backstage crew, in charge of the lighting and entrance music, currently manning the controls. While he did so, Simon looked up at his surroundings and simply couldn't believe what he saw.
Simon: I came here expecting the Pepsi Dome to live up to its name. You know what I discover? First of all, this dome isn't filled with Pepsi. It's filled with these people drinkity drinking the alcohol that can't even put a proper sentence together if their lives depended on it. Secondly, you call this a dome? This is a hardly a dome. If you looked up dome in the dictionary, the Pepsi Dome wouldn't be the picture you would find. Oh no it would not, because it would probably be under big, fat and lie. I'll tell you that right now.
As the guy glanced at him, Simon disappeared under the table for a moment and returned with a bottle in his hand.
Simon: So here I am, having a bottle of Coca-Cola and enjoying its smooth taste and undeniable great flavour...
Taking a drink from it, he turned the bottle around so the label was visible to the camera before he placed it down and reminisced of how good it tasted.
Simon: Then I notice something else. Not only do we not have Pepsi in the house tonight, we don't even have Pepsi products. The Pepsi people aren't respresenting and they're not 'keeping it real', but you know why? They don't want anything to do with the IWO. Oh no, no, no...nothing for the Internet Wrestling Organization because we're not good enough for it. You know why there's no Crystal Pepsi today? It's because the makers of it realized several years ago that the IWO would be in their dome today and discontinued it right there and then. Do you see Pepsi Max, Pepsi Twist, or Pepsi One anywhere? Heck, is there even a Pepsi Two or Pepsi Three in this mothersucker? No, because they hate us and it's all Thomas Ford's fault.
Clenching his fists and slamming his hands against the desk in utter frustration, he let out a scream before fiddling with the control panel a bit like a DJ on the turntable.
Simon: That's why it's going to be ever so sweet when Simon Seaman goes into Gold & Glory with his head up high and his eyes on the prize and comes out as the new IWO World Heavyweight Champion...of the world. Hash gone, Nuke gone, Ash gone and Daze. Well, don't even get me started on that guy. Daze was Milli Vanillied a long time ago. Nevertheless, I will be on top once again. Simon Seaman on top of this moutain and even though it's a mountain of garbage, I will still be on top of said mountain.
Checking if the coast was clear, he leaned in and whispered a comment to the man.
Simon: Heck, once I'm on top, the ladies will be all over me. Maybe even you too.
Surprised at Simon's statement, the fairly husky individual was caught off guard.
Crew Member: Really?
Thinking about what he just said, Simon's grin turned into a blank expression as he replied.
Simon: No. Sorry.
We cut back to the ring. 'Song 2' by Blur starts to play. Out walks Bungle in his bear costume with a maternity dress. He slowly makes his way to the ring, where he is handed a microphone.
Bungle: IWO... Last week I revealed to the world that I am indeed pregnant. Tonight I've told both Tom Ford and Schitzo Tod, that they are not the father... Ladies and Gentlemen, the father is...
"Hyakugojyuuichi" starts to play and out walks Bob Job. He scuttles down to the ring.
Bob Job: I can't let you do this, Bungle...
Bungle: What? You're not the fath...
Bob Job gets down on one knee.
Bob Job: Bungle... let's do this right... lets bring up our child properly... Bungle... will you marry me?
Bungle starts to shake.
Bungle: YES YES YES YES YES YES!
Bob Job hugs Bungle.
Tag Team Match
Those Damned Mexicans v. Coral Avalon and Donnie Daze
"Self" by American Head Charge.
The fans erupted in boos as Those Damned Mexicans walked down to the ring, without Daniel Phillips oddly enough.
Meygon: Ladies and gentlemen... the following contest is scheduled for one fall... introducing first... from Tijuana, Mexico... at a total combined weight of four hundred and thirty pounds... they are THOSE... DAMNED... MEXICANS!
GP: Ugh. TDM. Again. Wasn't seeing them once enough?
TDM entered the ring, and then "Geronimo" by Unwritten Law hit to the cheers of the crowd, as both Daze and Avalon came out at the same time.
Meygon: And their opponents, at a total combined weight of four hundred and forty-four pounds... they are the team of Donnie Daze and Coral Avalon!
Both Daze and Avalon rushed the ring and paired off with both members of TDM. The bell rang, and the match was on. Avalon paired off against Diablo while Daze paired off against Edguardo. Eventually, Avalon stunned Diablo in the ropes and then clotheslined Diablo out of the ring, leaving Diablo in with both Daze and Avalon. Daze whipped Diablo into the ropes, which allowed Avalon to catch him with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. Diablo immediately went to the outside.
JT: What the hell IS this crap!? They can't just double team TDM like that! It's not right!
Diablo recovered on the outside, so Daze launched himself over the top rope with a pescado, catching Diablo square in the chest. Edguardo was about to take out Daze as he got up, but Avalon had other intentions and leapt up and over the ropes without even touching them with a running somersault plancha. As Avalon and Edguardo were still down, Daze rolled Diablo back into the ring and nailed him with a catapult legdrop.
GP: Daze and Avalon are TAKING IT to Those Damned Mexicans!
JT: Man, this sucks.
As the outside referee tried to seperate Edguardo and Avalon and get them to a corner, Daze pounded away on Diablo in the neutral corner and whipped him into the opposite corner. He charged in, but Diablo caught him with a foot in the face. Diablo lifted himself up to the second rope and tried an axehandle, but Daze caught him and turned it into a belly-to-belly suplex, a la Kurt Angle.
JT: COME ON, DAMMIT. Stop this infernal cheating! FIGHT FAIR.
GP: They ARE fighting fair.
JT: FUCK YOU.
Daze grabbed Diablo by the hair and tagged in Avalon. Daze and Avalon whipped Diablo into the ropes, allowing Avalon to catch Diablo with a quick powerslam. Rather than stay on for the cover, Avalon rushed to the opposite ropes and then executed a cartwheel moonsault, landing square on Diablo's chest.
JT: Who the fuck does this guy think he is? RVD?
GP: He's got the pin, though! ONE... TWO... NO!
Edguardo came and broke up the count. He added a second kick in the back of Avy's head for good measure, before the referee forced him back to his corner. Avalon pulled Diablo back to his feet and whipped him into the ropes. Avalon tried a dropkick, but Diablo held on to the ropes, and Avalon fell on his back like a lump. Diablo quickly lunged to his corner and tagged in Edguardo.
GP: Here comes Edguardo...
Edguardo waited for Avalon to get back to his feet, and then he almost-literally destroyed him with a Spick Kick to the back of the head. Edguardo quickly went for the cover.
GP: SPICK KICK! ONE... TWO... THR-NO! Daze managed to break up the three!
JT: GET HIM OUT, REF! GOD!
As the referee dealt with Daze, Diablo comes in without a tag and kicked a recovering Avalon right in the balls. The fans erupted in boos at the blatant cheating behind the ref's back, as Edguardo slapped his hands to make it seem like they made a tag. Diablo nailed a scoop slam and climbed up to his home corner's second rope, and tagged in Edguardo as he did so. Diablo landed a second rope legdrop on Avalon, which was followed up quickly with a catapult elbow drop. Edguardo made another cover.
JT: YES! ONE... TWO... NO! DAMMIT!
GP: Avalon managed to kick out of TDM's tandem offense. As we all know, there aren't a lot of tag teams that are as cohesive as TDM.
JT: You damn skippy.
Edguardo and Diablo stayed in the ring and sent Avalon into the ropes before they nailed him with a double hotshot into the ropes. As Avalon bounced back from the hotshot, Diablo caught him with a brutal released German suplex that landed Avy on his head.
GP: What a BRUTAL suplex. I wouldn't be surprised if that ended the match right there.
JT: Well, DUH. This kid's just a rookie, there's no way he's getting up from that!
Diablo nonchalantly went for the cover.
GP: Cover! ONE... TWO... NO!!
Diablo was bewildered at the kickout, so he went for a far more trapping cover in hooking the leg.
GP: Another cover! ONE... TWO... TH-KICKOUT!
JT: God dammit! What the hell is up with that?!
Diablo slammed his hands on the canvas in frustration. He pulled Avalon to his feet and whipped him off of the ropes. Avalon ducked Diablo's clothesline, then, on the rebound...
GP: WHAT THE HELL!?
GP: Avalon just hit the "Erroneous Conclusion" on Diablo!
GP: You know! LLB's finisher!
GP: *groan* THE GUY WHO GUEST REFEREED THE ICE AGE MAIN EVENT?!
The fans erupted upon the connection of the move, as Avalon crawled to his corner while Diablo crawled to his own. Diablo made the tag first.
JT: Go go go! Stop the ta-
Avalon tagged in Daze.
The fans exploded as Daze immediately caught Diablo in the face with a springboard clothesline. Edguardo entered the ring, but Daze caught him with a clothesline. Diablo got to his feet, and Daze whipped him into the ropes before catching him with a flapjack.
GP: Come on, Daze! Take `em out!
Edguardo got up, but got caught with a powerslam, before Daze went to the ropes and vaulted up to the top rope. He then leapt off with a high elevation frog splash that landed square on Edguardo's chest. He went for the pin.
GP: DAZE BLAAAZE~! COVER! ONE... TWO...
GP: Dammit! Daze had him up until Diablo got in the way!
Diablo moved back a bit and went for the Border Kick, but Daze ducked it. He grabbed him for Dazed and Confused, but with the attention of the referee drawn to Avalon pounding away at Edguardo, he didn't see Daniel Phillips grab Daze's foot and pull him to the outside. Daze and Phillips immediately got into a brawl on the outside that was taking both men to the back, which, unfortunately for Avalon, left Avalon all alone against both members of TDM.
JT: Yes! Come on, TDM! Put away this rookie!
Avalon got up and charged Diablo, and went for a swinging double arm DDT, but Diablo was too close to the turnbuckles, and Diablo just simply sat him up there. Edguardo got back up while Diablo pounded on Avalon in the corner, before both Diablo and Edguardo climbed up there and hooked him up.
JT: Oh my GOD!
GP: Oh my HOLY GOD!
A small "holy shit" chant was heard, as Avalon's skull was drilled to the mat with a Super EMP, a DDT/Downward Spiral combination from the top rope. Diablo, the legal man, made the cover on Avalon, who was actually the illegal man.
JT: This is all over! ONE... TWO... THREE!!
The bell rang.
Meygon: The winners of this contest... THOSE... DAMNED... MEXICANS!
GP: But it took Daniel Phillips to get the win for TDM, because Daze was all set to put away Diablo with the Dazed and Confused!
JT: Bah. Horsefeathers.
GP: Horses don't have feathers.
JT: THEY DO NOW!
GP: *sigh* We'll be back.
The scene fades into Nuke's locker room, proudly adorned with various serial
killer paraphernalia, such as several of John Wayne Gacy's paintings,
fragments of Jeffery Dahmer shattered skull. A blood stained floorboard from
the house of Sharon Tate, copies if the haunting letter Albert Fish left to
the parents of Graci Budd, which Nuke often quotes from, and so on and so
Obviously, midget Nuke has done some redecorating.
Nuke sits in front of a television set, his eyes fixed to the screen,
entranced by the video recording being played before him. midget Nuke stands
next to him, impatiently waiting for Nuke to be done with whatever he's so
absorbed with on the screen.
Nuke: Rewind it.
midget Nuke = BUT CAN'T WE-
Nuke: *curtly interrupting* Rewind it.
midget Nuke grudgingly complies, and depresses the rewind button on the VCR.
Once the tape is re-wound to the beginning the it plays automatically.
"How hard you have struggled to achieve the status of World Champion. And
I feel for you cause your going to fall just a little short of that but hell
you should be used to being "a little short" when it comes to important
The expression on Nuke's face remains emotionless.
Now you're just a loser who tries to "shock" everyone by talking of
killing and rape of five-year-olds. No one is shocked anymore. Hell even the
bible thumpers look at you and say, "What he is still trying?" I feel for
you Nuke cause you had talent at one time
Nuke remains emotionless.
Maybe if you stopped sitting in your house wallowing in your own self
pity and blaming everyone, including God, for the reasons in which you suck
now and are worth less then Erik Blake.
Nuke's stare is still unbroken.
From the moment I stepped back into the IWO I've seen you suck. I've seen
you say sickening shit to try and get people queasy. I've seen you bitch and
moan about how the whole world's against you. I can't comprehend how you
used to be when you were 'good', because now all I see is a piece of shit.
I'm not gonna waste my time attacking what you do, what you say, or what you
are anymore. This is all just a game to me and I'm not gonna play it your
Nuke concentrates, intently listening to every word. Wanting, hoping,
praying. But to no avail.
This can't possibly be!
Hoping beyond hope that he missed something, he decides to watch it again.
This is his last chance. Before he abandons hope he must make sure.
Nuke = Rewind it.
midget Nuke = MOTHER FUCKER!! YOU'VE SEEN IT GOD KNOWS HOW MANY TIMES
ALREADY. GIVE YOUR FUCKING EYES A REST. I'M GETTING BORED. YOU HAVE A MATCH
LATER TONIGHT, STOP BULLSHITTING AND GET READY FOR IT.
Nuke = Rewind it.
midget Nuke = ARE YOU FUCKING LISTENING TO ME!? I'M TR-
Nuke = Re
midget Nuke reluctantly obeys, and rewinds the tape again.]
midget Nuke = HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES ARE YOU GONNA WATCH THIS SHIT?
Nuke = Until the task is accomplished.
Tag Team Contest
Jack Breaker and Harold Hash vs. Simon Seaman and Ash Robinson
GP: Well. Up next, we'll see four of the eight men scheduled to compete with each other at Gold and Glory with the World title on the line... can they put aside their differences for just one night to co-exist in this tag-format match?
JT: Well, one thing's for sure. Whoever wins tonight will definitley... NO! The answer is Texas, you fools! INFIDELS!
GP: What the hell..?
Greg glances over at JT's TV monitor.
GP: Hey! You're just watching the Gameshow network! We have a match to call here!
JT: Come on, come on.... big bucks, no whammies... NOOO! A whammy!
GP: A what?
JT: Oh, you gotta avoid those whammies, Greggy-boy. Four of `em will bump you right out of the game.
GP: O...kay. Let's just get to Meygon for the introductions, before I have to strangle you.
We cut to Meygon. Why? Because Greg Parker told us that we should. It's really that simple.
Meygon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring first, from Raleigh, North Carolina, he weighs in at 235 pounds, please welcome... HAARRROLD HAAAASSSSSH!
"Hacksaw Decapitation" by Cannibal Corpse hits as Harold makes his way down to the ring, taunting and playing with the fans. He slides into the ring and elicts a big pop from the crowd.
Meygon: And his partner, from New Orleans, Louisiana, he weighs in at two-hundred forty-two pounds and is accompanied by Aubrey Breaker, ladies and gentlemen, JACK BREAKER!
"Cyclops Rock" by They Might be Giants hits and the fans go nuts as Jack charge out onto the stage and dances down to the ring. He hops up on the apron and rushes to the turnbuckle. He climbs up, Aubrey riding on his shoulders, and milks a huge reaction from the crowd before retreating to discuss strategy and exchange recipies with Hash.
GP: Well, Breaker seems to be on something of a winning streak following his... uhm... unexpected win at May Mayhem. Can he continue tonight, or will Ash Robinson and Simon Seaman steal his sunshine?
JT: You know, sometimes I forget why I allow you to live, Gregory.
Meygon: And the challengers. First, from Los Angeles, California, he weighs in at 265 pounds, please welcome Ash "Shadow" ROBINSOOOOON!
"In A Godda Da Vida" bye Iron Butterfly hits and Ash rushes out to a fair reaction. He too enters the ring and retreats to the opposite corner, glaring at Breaker and Hash.
Meygon: And his partner, also from Los Angeles, weighing in at 233 pounds, he is a former IWO World champion, please welcome SIMON SEAAMAAAN!
"Relax" by Powerman 5000 follows Simon out to the stage to a fairly negative reaction. Simon eats it up, calling back insults to the jeering crowd. He slides in alongside Ash and stares his opponents down. The bell ringeth. Harold Hash and Ash Robinson retreat to the apron, leaving Jack and Simon in the ring. Simon paces around a bit, sizing Jack up. Jack drops down into a ready stance. Simon suddenly shakes his head, as if in disappointment, and makes a tag to Robinson.
GP: What's Simon doing? Is he scared of Jack Breaker or something?
JT: I think it's obvious what his excellence is doing. Why should a former champion... WORLD champion, mind you... why should he have to bother with such pests as Breaker and Hash?
Ash Robinson steps into the ring against Jack. They lock up, and Jack quickly shifts his weight back. He grabs around Ash's waist and tries to drive him over, but Ash sits out and brings Jack to the mat. They both quickly get up, and Jack takes a different approach, this tim dropping suddenly down and hook-kicking Ash in the back of the knees. Ash trips, and Jack is on top with a half nelson. He pulls Ash up and faceslams him to the mat. Ash quickly gets up and walks into a right hand by Jack, followed by a left, and another right. Ash blocks the third punch and throws Jack's hand aside. Ash locks in a front facelock and DDTs Jack to the mat. He gets on top with a crucifix armbar. Jack writhes in pain on the mat but quickly gets to the ropes. Ash pulls him up and hooks for a suplex. He nails it and is about to go for a cover when Simon Seaman suddenly tags himself in. He goes for the cover on Jack, but only elicts a two-count.
GP: I see what's going on, here. Ash Robinson is doing all of the work and Seaman's trying to take all the credit.
JT: What makes you say that? I hear Simon is a much better pinner than Robinson.
Simon and Jack get toe-to-toe, and Jack swings a stiff forearm. Simon ducks, but still gets caught in a neckbreaker by Jack. Jack brings him up and takes him back down with a backbreaker. Simon scrambles back to his feet as Jack makes the tag to Hash. Hash scales the top rope and sails off with a moonsault just as Jack sweeps Simon's legs. Hash connects with Simon's limp body, and Hash hooks his leg.
GP: Kickout! Some excellent double-teaming by Hash and Breaker, but it's not quite enough to put the former world champ away.
Seaman quickly gets Hash in a headlock and goes for a takedown, but Hash breaks the hold and backs up. He swings a clothesline, but Ash Robinson reaches through the ropes and trips him, bringing him to his knees. Simon drives an elbow down into Harold's back, then brings him up in a standing headscissors. He lifts him up and powerbombs. He rolls through and bridges.]
GP: Hash gets the shoulder up! He isn't quite done yet.
Hash rushes to Jack for a tag, but comes up short and falls victim to a hammerlock by Seaman. Seaman tightens his hold and brings Hash to his knees. He chops twice at the neck, and sends Hash down to the mat. Seaman puts a boot on his throat and pulls the ropes for leverage. The ref rushes in frantically and breaks it up. Seaman retreats to his corner and raises his arms as the crowd boos. Hash rolls away in pain and manages the tag to Breaker. Seaman lazily tags in Robinson. Jack rushes in with lefts and rights a-blazin' and takes Robinson into the ropes. He shoves him to get a little momentum, and Robinson rebounds quickly. Jack lifts him up and delivers a tilt-a-whirl slam. He covers, but barely makes the two count before Robinson shoulders out.
GP: Breaker's having trouble keeping Robinson down..
JT: I'm havnig trouble keeping this deli sandwich down.
GP: You don't have a sandwich.
JT: But I could.
GP: But you don't.
Robinson gains the upper hand with some chops to Breaker's ribs. He sends him into the ropes. Breaker pauses, hops up on the bottom, and hits a springboard moonsault. Ash catches him and delivers a brutal inverted sidewalk slam, sending Jack over the top rope and almost into the crowd. Jack starts to work his way back to his feet, bracing himself on the apron, and takes a baseball slide by Robinson. This time, Jack hits the crowd barrier and sends the ringside area into a frenzy of poking and touching as he works his way up. Ash swings a crossover clothesline, which Jack ducks, sending Ash into the crowd. Jack hops up onto the barricade, grabs Ash's arm, and twists it while he dives off the barricade. Ash's arm hits the steel and he rolls up into a ball of pain and unhappiness while Jack slides back into the ring. Finally, Simon just climbs in to stare Jack down, despite the ref's objection. Eventually, he just lets it pass, and the two fighters lock horns. Jack swings around behind Simon, hooks behind his waist, and tries to bring him face-first to the mat. Simon instead forces Jack down by hopping up on the second rope, spinning and bringing him down. Jack's face crashes to the mat and his nose begins at once to bleed profusely. He reaches for a blind tag, but Hash is nowhere to be found, as Simon takes into him with some forearms. Simon sends Jack into the turnbuckle, and sails off in a body avalanche. Jack, however, hops up onto the turnbuckle, sending Simon slamming into the steel. He stumbles away, dazed, as Jack lets rip with a 450 flipping neckbreaker. The Heartbreaker...
GP: The Heartbreaker! Jack nails the Heartbreaker!
JT: Please. That's the Silencer and you know it.
GP: Whatever. Jack covers! He can end it right now!
JT: What are you implying? That our God Simon would allow himself to be pinned by this hooligan?
JT: You know! With all his shinanegans!
Anyway, Jack hooks Simon's leg.
Suddenly, Ash Robinson rushes in out of nowhere with an angry kick to Jack's head. The ref forces Ash to the apron, and Jack follows him, talking trash. From behind, Simon tries a rollup.
A quick kickout by Jack. He gets up to face Seaman once again. Seaman swings a left. Jack turns to block it, and Seaman counters with a right, connecting with the back of Jack's head. Jack stumbles back and makes the tag to Harold Hash. Seaman charges at him before he makes it over the top rope, sending him down to the ringside area. Seaman hops up onto the top rope and is about to springboard off when Hash slides in under the bottom. Seaman changes his trajectory but loses his balance and topples off into Harold's waiting arms. He nails a perfect fallaway slam. Hash hops up on the top rope and signals to the crowd.
GP: What's Hash calling for? This is a long name for a move that isn't all to impressive but i like cause I am like that, and if you don't like it you can suck on my toes till your nads fall off and smack you in the face...BWAHAHAHAHAHA, okay this is a really long name for a damn move, and it isn't all to descriptive and I know noone will ever call it that but I don't care, we are getting back to cause I am like that too, oh yeah this really isn't correct grammar. Barq's is the best Root Beer of all time?
JT: I don't know, do you think that's something Harold Hash is likely to do?
GP: .. it is his finisher.
JT: Uhm... you're a finisher.
GP: Good point.
Harold indeed is calling for This is a long name for a move that isn't all to impressive but i like cause I am like that, and if you don't like it you can suck on my toes till your nads fall off and smack you in the face...BWAHAHAHAHAHA, okay this is a really long name for a damn move, and it isn't all to descriptive and I know noone will ever call it that but I don't care, we are getting back to cause I am like that too, oh yeah this really isn't correct grammar. Barq's is the best Root Beer of all time, but is suddenly distracted by an image on the IWO-Tron screen.
Rob Kestler is walking down the street when he see Psycho Jay...}
Rob Kestler "Hey Psycho Gay. Good to see that you're no longer a giant yellow monster and that you've escaped from the stomach of Chtuhlu."
Psycho Jay "You're a stupid gay jobber."
Rob Kestler :-(
Psycho Jay "I have an idea. Let's go throw bricks through Harold Hash's windows."
Rob Kestler "I have an even better idea."
Kestler pulls a paper bag out of his pants...
Psycho Jay "Wh..."
Rob Kestler "It's doggie poo in a bag."
Psycho Jay "I was just hoping it would be explosives."
Rob Kestler "TO THE TANK!"
Kestler and Jay hop into THE TANK and drive to Hash's house. Kestler puts the bag on Hash's doorstep and lights it on fire...
Kestler "Ooooo, pretty!"
Psycho Jay "Now can we throw bricks through his windows?"
Kestler "I don't know...this is pretty silly itself."
Harold Hash's house catches on fire...
Psycho Jay "Ha, that's entertaining."
Kestler turns around...
Kestler "NO! THAT'S NAUGHTY!"
Rob Kestler disappears. Scene switch to High Flyer sitting on a toilet and reading "Snow Selling Quartly." Rob Kestler appears right in front of him...
Flyer "AHHH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"
Kestler "I need to borrow the tag team titles."
Flyer "What the hell for?!"
Kestler "Please Tommy?"
Flyer "You're not going to melt them and turn them into a nativity scene, are you?"
Flyer "Are you?!"
Flyer "And you're not going to use them as sleds for midget, are you?"
Flyer "Ok, just so long as you're not going to treat them poorly then you can use them."
Flyer pulls the titles out of the toilet and hands them to Kestler. Kestler disappears and reappears at Hash's house. Jay is now wearing a Hawaiian shirt and drinking lemonade while watching Hash's house burn down...
Kestler "I'll save you house!"
Kestler goes up to the house fire and furiously waves the titles in the direction of the house as he attempts to blow it out at the same time...
Psycho Jay "And me without hot dogs and marshmallows."
Kestler continues to wave the titles but soon gets worn out. Kestler walks back over to Jay...
Psycho Jay "Why are you so sad, you just did the coolest thing you've done in a long time."
Kestler "But now we can't throw trash into Donnie Daze's yard."
Psycho Jay "This is Harold Hash's yard."
Kestler "Oh, in that case, lets go get ice cream."
Psycho Jay "Ok!"
Kestler "One second."
Kestler disappears and reappears in front of Flyer again...
Kestler drops the titles on Flyer's lap and disappears once again as the scene switches back to Hostile Takeover.
Hash is still on the turnbuckle, watching the events on the Tron. Simon rushes up suddenly and pulls him off the top with a crucifix powerbomb. He pulls it into a pin.
GP: MY GOD! Harold Hash kicks out! He kicks out! He...
JT: Kicks out?
JT: My question is, what's Psycho Jay doing at Harold Hash's house? Doesn't he have a match, like, next?
GP: Quietly Ssh, you do you want to get us fired?
Back to the ring. Hash is holding off Seaman, but it doesn't look like he can last much longer. He's looking to make a tag, but Simon has the ring effectivley cut in half. Plus, Ash Robinson is rushing around the outside of the ring to assault Jack Breaker. We see Ash pull Jack off the apron just as Harold takes a wild leaping dropkick shot at Simon's head. He comes nowhere close, and Simon catches his legs underneath his arms. Simon drops down and catapults Hash into the turnbuckle. Outside the ring, Robinson is taking it to Breaker, right hand after right. We see Simon hoist Hash up onto the turnbuckle, as if setting up for a superplex. Outside, Breaker catches a punch from Robinson, uses it as leverage to lift himself up and latch on a front facelock. He jumps once, swings around, and drives Ash Robinson to the ground. The Clockwork DDT. Ash is out cold on the ground, and Jack jumps up onto the apron just as Hash shoves Simon off the top. Simon hits the ground hard and doesn't get up. Hash takes one bounce and nails the 450 splash - This is a long name for a move that isn't all to impressive but i like cause I am like that, and if you don't like it you can suck on my toes till your nads fall off and smack you in the face...BWAHAHAHAHAHA, okay this is a really long name for a damn move, and it isn't all to descriptive and I know noone will ever call it that but I don't care, we are getting back to cause I am like that too, oh yeah this really isn't correct grammar. Barq's is the best Root Beer of all time. He covers.
*DING DING DING!*
Meygon: Here are your winners, Harold Hash and Jack Breaker!
"Hacksaw Decapitation" by Cannibal Corpse hits once again as Jack and Harold raise their arms in victory. From behind, we see Simon with a steel chair. He brings it once hard into the back of Jack's head, then turns it onto it's side and stomps away at Jack's midsection.
GP: Oh, God, no! Stop this, somebody! This is an unprovoked attack!
JT: Hey, if Breaker can't handle this, then he shouldn't have... done nothing to Simon! Serves him right.
Simon's assault on Jack continues. Ash Robinson appears from ringside with a chair of his own, and knocks Hash out. Simon stops and turns to face Ash. He drops his chair and motions for Ash to do the same. Ash doesn't, but stares quizzically at Simon. Suddenly, Simon grabs his chair from the ground and brings it straight into Ash's gut. Ash collapses in pain. Simon, in a fit of rage, throws the chair angrily into the crowd and storms up the ramp backstage, flipping off the medical workers as they rush to assist the three men in the ring.
GP: My God. Simon Seaman will stop at nothing to get what he wants.
JT: What are you talking about? He los.... I mean, he is currently in-between victories. How is that getting what he wants?
GP: Well, it's time for our main event!
JT: You didn't answer my question!
GP: Well, it's time for our main event!
GP: Well, it's time for our main event!
JT: ...thank God for that.
GP: I didn't know you were a religious man, JT.
JT: Don't make me hit you.
GP: Aren't you forgetting "Thou shalt not hit Greg Parker"?
JT: Aie, you got me on a technicality.
Psycho Jay vs. Nuke
Raining Blood" by Slayer.
The lights dim and smoke blows softly across the ground as two shadowy figures appear on the stage. One is standing, hands-raised in premature victory; the other has a more erect, alert posture. The lights flash on and we see Psycho Jay and Vincent on the stage.
Meygon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring first, from South Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he weighs in at three-hundred twenty pounds, Psycho JAAAY!
"Raining Blood" continues to blare as Jay makes his way slowly to the ring. He slides into the ring as Vincent takes his post at the apron, shouting obscenities to the crowd. Jay poses on the turnbuckles to tremendous jeers from the crowd.
Meygon: And the challenger...
"Dead Wrong" by Biggie Smalls hits over the PA.
Meygon: From Hollis-Queens, New York, he weighs in at two-hundred forty-three pounds, he is the Innovator of Wrongness, NUUUKKEEE!
Nuke appears on the stage, running to the ring furiously. He sees Jay taunting him from the turnbuckle and picks up speed, as Jay hops off the turnbuckle and readies himself in the ring.
*DING DING DING!*
GP: This match is ON! Tremendous animosity between these two men. I think this could get ugly.
JT: I think... oh, that's just too easy.
Nuke slides in and gets caught with a few quick soccer kicks by Jay. Nuke tries to get to his feet but can't avoid Jay's barrage of blows to the back. Jay grabs hold of the second rope to steady himself and provide leverage as he countinues his assault. Nuke, struggling to stand, grabs ahold of Jay's ankle and twists with all his strength. Jay topples to the ground and Nuke is on top in a second, twisting his ankle almost to the point of snapping. Jay is writhing in pain but reaches the bottom rope. The ref forces Nuke off, but he refuses. He tightens the hold, bracing himself on the ropes. The ref starts to count. One.. two... three... Nuke finally breaks the hold and slips into a figting stance as Jay slowly works his way up. Nuke immediatley shoots in, tackling Jay's legs and driving him to the mat. Jay rolls through, gets behind Nuke, and throws a full nelson. He pulls Nuke up to his feet and falls back, releasing the hold and sending Nuke flying.
GP: Oh! Release full nelson slam by Jay! Oh man, what a move!
Nuke quickly retuns into his fighting stance. Jay is ready with a big boot. The sound of impact echoes across the arena as Nuke hits the mat and bounces. Jay stays on him, locking in a quick Dragon sleeper.
GP: Dragon sleeper... man, Jay's really cranking on that neck, isn't he?
JT: How should I know?
GP: I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to... uhm... this rock, over here.
JT: There is no rock.
GP: ...You're right.
Jay has Nuke in a firm hold, and isn't letting up. Nuke's head is wrenched to the side mercilessly as he frantically gropes for the ropes. The ref steps in to check on Nuke and takes a wild swinging arm to the face. Nuke is struggling to pull himself upright, with Jay still on top. Nuke suddenly drops to the mat and rolls Jay over his back. Nuke continues rolling to his feet. Jay soon follows. They lock up; Jay quickly lifts Nuke up onto his shoulder and throws him back down onto his head. Nuke throws a wild boot and manages to connect with Jay's jaw, sending him crashing down on top. Jay takes advantage and covers Nuke.
GP: Kickout! Nuke kicks out! Is this a great match, or what?
JT: Put me down for "or what"! No blood, no severed limbs, no flying pandas... this is the worst birthday ever.
GP: It's not your birthday.
JT: Oh, who died and made you king of birthdayland?
Jay pulls Nuke up and locks on a front facelock. He pulls Nuke up and brings him down head-first - Brainbuster. He brings him up for another but Nuke fights out with some weak chops and retreats to the turnbuckle. He stops to catch his breath, and Jay quickly slams his head into the ringpost.
GP: Jay is really working on the... uhm... head, it seems.
JT: That raises an important question. Namely, what the fuck are you talking about, Greg?
GP: Just be quiet and watch the pretty ponies.
Jay hooks Nuke and brings him up for a crucifix powerbomb. Be tosses him forecably down, then bridges for a pin.
Nuke barely shoulders out. Jay again brings him to his feet. He starts with some chops to the ribs, followed by a wild forearm. Nuke suddenly springs into action. He ducks under the forearm, grabs Jay by the neck, and drops to his knees. Jay's neck bounces off of Nuke's shoulder as he hits the mat. Nuke dives on top and quickly locks in a figure four leglock. Too quickly, in fact, because Jay easily rolls over and muscles out of the hold. Jay gets to his feet as Nuke swings a wild crossover clothesline. Jay backsteps, but Nuke still manages to connect and nearly sends Jay flying out of the ring. Jay manages to brace himself by holding onto the ropes, and Nuke charges with a spear. Jay steps aside, and Nuke hits the ropes. He flips up and becomes entangled. As he struggles to free himself, Jay takes the advantage with a double axe handle to Nuke's exposed head. We see blood start to trickle from Nuke's nose as the ref pulls Jay away and tries to help Nuke out of the ropes.
JT: DID YOU SEE THAT?!
Greg points behind JT.
GP: Did you see that?
JT turns to look.
JT: No, what is it?
GP smacks JT in the back of the head.
JT: Ow. I'm not inviting you to my birthday party, now.
GP: I told you, it's not your birthday!
JT: *Sniffle* It could be.
Back in the ring, Nuke is on his hands and knees trying to catch his breath. Jay rushes to him and steps over his head, then proceeds to hump it like a man possessed.
JT: Hahaha! It's funny cause he's getting humped!
GP: This is just sick.
JT: If by 'sick' you mean 'hilarious', then yes, I agree.
GP: No, this is just sick.
JT: Allright, Greggy. Calm down. It's not THAT funny... oh, wait! It is! Ha ha ha! I laugh!
Jay's still humping Nuke's head. Nuke is trying to pull his head free but Jay has a firm grip. Finally, Nuke puts his foot on the ropes. The ref pulls Jay off of him and checks to see if Nuke is okay. Jay charges, and the ref barely manages to get out of the way. Jay works Nuke into the ropes with some stiff right hands, then gives him a bounce and sends him into the opposite ropes. As Nuke rebounds, Jay steps in and delivers a Mongolian chop. Nuke staggers back and Jay nails a jawbreaker. Nuke is now bleeding profusely from his nose and we see a small trickle drip from the corner of his mouth.
JT: MORE BLOOOOOOOOOO....
GP: Nuke's bleeding pretty bad. It's really not looking good for the kid.
GP: Yeah, Jay is really taking it to him.
GP: What do you think about all of this, JT?
GP: That's what I thought.
Jay drags some forearms across Nuke's face, opening further wounds and furthering the steady stream of blood from Nuke's mouth. Jay boots him stiffy in the gut, and scoops him up for a stalling suplex. He pulls Nuke up and holds... holds... holds.... holds... holds.... and finally brings Nuke crashing down to the mat. Nuke seems out of it, but Jay isn't done. He brings Nuke up in a torture rack, spins him around, and drives him down onto his knee. Nuke bounces rather quickly to his feet just as Jay takes it to him with a right hook. Nuke is bobbing and weaving like a boxer, barely avoiding Jay's wild swings, and he tries a shot of his own. He connects rather weakly with Jay's left cheek. Jay reaches out and grabs Nuke's forehead. He stares for a second, then simply powers Nuke's head down to the mat. Nuke stays down as Jay drives a jumping elbow into his chest.
GP: Nuke is being tossed around like a rag doll in there! Oh, just end the pain, Jay!
JT: What are you talking about? Nuke's not getting tossed around at all! Look, he's just lying motionless on the ground!
GP: I know that. I was just saying...
JT: Yeah? Well, why don't you shut up?
GP: Why don't you make me?
JT: I don't make garbage; I burn it. OOOH! That was a BUUU-UUURN!
GP: You know, it's just a coincidence, but my leg just suddenly caught fire. YE-OOOOOW!
GP drops to the ground and rolls around. Meanwhile, back in the ring, Jay has Nuke on his feet. He sends him flying into the turnbuckle, then charges with a Bronco buster. He hops off and whips Nuke into the opposite turnbuckle. This time, he sets him up on the top, then climbs up himself. He puts him in a standing headscissors.
GP: Psycho Jay is going for the Superbomb... but Nuke is already out of it! Why, Jay? Why?
JT: Duh, it's `cause he wants to win the match. And shouldn't you be smoldering, or something.
GP: Oh, right.
Jay sets Nuke up on his shoulders, powerbomb-style. He dives off the top rope, when suddenly Nuke swings his legs out, hooks Jay's neck, and falls on his back, planting Jay's head firmly into the mat.
GP: MY GOD! Nuke reversed the Superbomb with a DDT! A super DDT, at that! The tables seem to have turned!
Nuke is on his feet, and has Jay stumbling around with the help of some stiff punches. He hooks Jay in a front facelock and pulls him up. He stalls for a second, then falls foward, slamming Jay face-first to the mat. He brings him up again, and gives him an irish whip. Jay rebounds and walks into a back body drop. Jay is writhing in agony on the mat as Nuke scales the turnbuckle and hops off, driving his knees firmly into Jay's spine. Jay rolls over, and Nuke locks in a Boston crab. Jay scrambles around and quickly makes it to the ropes, forcing Nuke to release the hold. Nuke grabs hold of him once more and shoots him into the ropes. Jay rebounds again and walks right into a boot to the gut. He doubles over and Nuke steps in. He hooks both arms... pulls him up... brings him down on his face. Underhook facefirst piledriver.... the Burning Psychosis.
GP: There's the Burning Psychosis! Nuke covers!
*DING DING DING!*
Meygon: Here's your winner, NUUUUUKKKKEEEEE!
"Dead Wrong" hits once more as Nuke raises one arm in victory. With the other arm, he nurses a sore shoulder. Jay is still lying spread-eagle on the mat, and the camera pans down to a close up of his bloodied face.
GP: Well, that's it folks! I'm going home! Good night!
Fade to black.