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Post by Aqil Ghassan on Mar 21, 2009 2:55:34 GMT -5
We fade back in from commercial, as WIG's own John Cena is standing by, present with the man who was in action earlier on, Aqil Ghassan. The Arabian man has a very friendly look on in his eyes, clad in a casual white shirt, plain blue jeans, and a pair of brown loafers. Also present is his head robe, which is draped proudly atop his head.
John Cena: Ladies and gentlemen... I'm here with the man who came off a very decisive victory over... *he shudders* Cojas Revenge, the one and only Aqil Ghassan. Mr. Ghassan, it's been awhile since you and have last spoken hasn't it?
Aqil glances down and simply nods, continuing to have a smile plastered across his facial features.
Aqil: Indeed it has doctor of thuganomics.
Cena: NOT THE SAME GUY!!!
Aqil: *chuckling* Sorry, I could not resist my friend. *Aqil quickly composes himself* But yes, you are indeed correct about that. I have not spoken with you since the Differ Ariake show back in Japan.
Cena mutters a bit under his breath, but manages to compose himself.
Cena: Well... it seems that since you've returned, a certain group seems to have their eyes on you. I can't really say myself exactly why that is, but it appears that the Innocent have someone keeping a close eye on you. Tell me Mr Ghassan, exactly what do you think this is all about?
Ghassan's expression quickly grows less jovial, a more serious expression now appearing across his face.
Aqil: Cena... I must be honest. Before I even arrived here in WIG, I made sure to keep a very close on the goings on here in the locker room. I kept up with each of the various feuds that had occurred and began here in WIG. After all, it is common sense for one to study their future opponents and watch them whenever an opportunity arises. And believe me, other than the current WIG Champions, I have also kept an eye on a certain group here in WIG. A group that has... well, to be perfectly frank, disgusted me with their actions.
Cena: The Pantheon of the New Revelation?
Aqil: Well, I can't say I approve of them any more so, especially after what that Johnathan Doe did to poor Miss Cheyenne. But no, I speak of an even more... unpredictable collection of wrestlers. One that seems to be manipulated constantly behind the scenes, with little to any actual individual thoughts running through their heads. I don't think it's takes a rocket scientist to know I speak of... The Innocent.
Cena: ... Yeah, you'll find that most people here agree with you.
Aqil: I saw what they did to Hardcore Hensley. It was a series of vile and cowardly acts and when he was finally able to exact revenge upon them, it was truly deserved. Not that I would personally approve of vengeance, but it seems in this business of ours, it is an inevitable course of action. But it seems now that since they have failed with Hensley, they are seeking another stranger to pursue, to stalk, and to torment. Another person who they only know in the ring.
Cena: It's definitely possible...
Aqil: More than possible in my opinion. I mean, sure they now control the WIG Women's Champion, who is indeed a very skilled competitor... though one that does tend to rely too much on dirty tactics, but that seems to be of her own accord. meanwhile, Joshua and his mammoth ally are busy running errands for this apparent... Keeper of theirs. Honestly, I hope that I never have to meet the sick individual who has warped them into this line of thinking, but if I ever did, I promise to you that I would drive my fist right into their miserable hood covered face!
Aqil's facial expression grows quite angry it seems, the thought of the Innocent's apparent leader sickening enough to instill this feeling. He reaches up and wipes his brow slightly, soon managing to compose himself.
Cena: So... I take it that you also have no intention of joining them?
Aqil: That is exactly what I am saying. No matter what they do, they shall not change my mind.
Cena: Well alright then. Thanks for your time Mr Ghassan.
Aqil's flashes another smile and nods, patting Cena firmly on the back.
Aqil: Anytime. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to attend to some things my friend.
With that, the Arabian man turns around, before quickly making his way back down the hallway, headed to his locker room perhaps. As he exits the scene, we pan across the hall. Hidden behind a nearby soda machine, the towering Earnest can be seen, a very stone faced look across his face as he watches this scene go on. Upon seeing Ghassan leave, he simply nods, then quickly heads back the corridor the way he came.
We quickly fade to the next segment.
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Post by Ykaterina Milosanova on Mar 22, 2009 16:47:26 GMT -5
*As we return from commercial, we return to the scene of the WIGSphere. Inside the ring, a rather sizeable wooden table is being set up, along with a number of comfortable looking chairs. Also present in the ring, co-general manager Jett Ripley is present as well, clad as usual in his red blazer and khaki pants combos, with what looks like a Limey t-shirt worn underneath the jacket. Behind him a contract can be seen in the middle of this table, as it seems we are getting ready for a public signing.*
Jett: Hello everybody. This is one of your new WIG Co-operators, Jett Ripley. I'm currently standing by in the ring at this present moment because we are going to sign the contract to a first here in WIG. That being a title unfication match. You see, I've spoken to both the GND and WIG Women's Champions and they have both agreed that in the sake of having a single title belt to present the WIG Women's division, we will be unifying them in an upcoming match at March 29th. The winner of said match will gain posession of both titles and become the Undisputed WIG Women's Champion. To see that nothing interferes with the result of this match, all WIG contracted wrestlers, including the current WIG Women's champion's allies, will be barred from ringside. Anyone who fails to adhere to this ruling will be immediately suspended for a year without pay.
*The crowd gives a rather mixed reaction for this announcement, Jett simply continuing on as they do.*
Jett: Now then, without further ado... let me first introduce the NEW GND Champion, Ykaterina Milasonova!
*"Moskau" begins playing over the speakers as Ykaterina Milosanova walks out and onto the stage, her GND championship title around her waist. She stops for a moment on the ramp, looking out to all of the fans, and starts walking down the aisle. She reacts graciously to the audience members who extend their arms over the retaining barrier, slapping a few of their hands as she quickly makes her way to the ring. Milosanova climbs onto the steps and enters into the ring under the top rope, before turning around, undoing the championship belt and draping it over her shoulder. Her music fades out and she turns her head to Jett, and gives a quick nod.*
Jett: Awesome job in that match by the way. Now then, introducing her opponent, a woman who first gained her championship back at Parade of Champions, in which she won it by defeating ten other women in a battle royale, the current reigning WIG Women's Champion, Rosie!
*"St Anger" picks up next on the Colvintron, the crowd now starting to boo rather loudly, as the aforementioned Rosie emerges from the back. Clad in the same jumpsuit she is almost always seen wearing, along with that title belt draped casually around her neck like an oversized necklace, she flashes a nasty scowl towards the ring. The women then quickly stomps down the ramp, quickly leaping atop the ring apron, before stepping through the ropes. She then stops in the middle of the ring, yanking that belt from off around her throat, then hoisting it up high above her head, only to quick pull it back down and drape it across her own shoulder. She eyes Jett, simply rolling her eyes, before turning her attentions to Milosanova. More specifically, that title belt she now has possession of.*
Jett: Well then, with both of you here, we can get things going. From my understanding, both of you have had your lawyers look over each of these contracts and as they have told me, they have both agreed to the terms. These terms are quite simple. First off, as I stated before, there will be no interference whatsoever allowed. Second of all, there will be no rematch clause for the loser of the match. And finally, once the contract is signed, neither of you will be allowed to come in physical contact with one another until the actual match. Anyone who violates this clause will immediately be stripped of their title and it will be awarded to their opponent. If the two of you violate the clause, both of you will be stripped immediately and the titles will be held up with new champions being decided at a later date.
*Jett then turns around to that table, now offering both of the champions a seat. Rosie shrugs, before heading over and plopping down inside her own chair. She then props her feet up on the table and leans back, while keeping an eye on Milasonova.Ykaterina follows suit, sitting down opposite of the W*I*G Women's Champion. She sits in a very upright posture with her head tilted slightly, folds both of her arms over her chest and stares straight at her opponent. Jett nods and takes a seat in the remaining chair himself, in between the both of them. He then pulls the contract on the table over, giving it another quick glance, before presenting it Ykaterina first, along with a pen from his pocket. Ykaterina accepts the pen and signs her name on the contract, in cursive, before handing him the pen back. Jett nods and takes the pen back, before taking the contract and sliding it over in Rosie's direction next, as well as tossing her the pen. The woman catches it with ease and glances down at the piece of paper with a rather uncaring expression. She then yanks it over with her palm, now sitting back up and licking the tip of this pen, before quickly scribbling her own name across in surprisingly neat cursive. She then slides the contract back over to Jett, who takes it and nods, as well as catching the pen she tosses back at him. He then goes over both of their signatures and nods, before setting the contract back down on the table between them.*
Jett: Well alright then. At March 29th, we will see Ykaterina Milaosnova and Rosie both putting their title on the line in a title unification match! The winner so that match will be declared the undisputed WIG Women's champion! Now then, if you both have anything to sa...
*Suddenly Rosie lunges out and quickly snatches that microphone right out of Jett's hand, before looking back across the table at Ykaterina with a rather smug sneer.
Rosie: Well... well... well... we meet again masked bitch. You did pretty good beating the other masked bitch and taking her belt like that. In fact, I've gotta admit, you ain't half bad at all in the ring. I saw with my own two eyes after all, so I should know first hand. And in the end, you got your hands on that shiny little belt. Unfortunately for you though... it ain't even close to over. Ya see, I can't stand sharing the spotlight with some champion like you, who got her belt from a relic of a promotion. That's why at March 29th, I intend to take that shiny bauble of your's and claim it as my own. Because ya see girly... there can only be one true champion between the both of us, not one real champion and some poser. So, when it's all said and done, there ain't gonna be no question who the better women between us is. As for who that is... well take a wild guess.
*She flashes a rather disgusting grin, before simply patting confidently across the front of her title draped across her shoulder. Ykaterina motions for a microphone, which after a few moments, she receives from Jett. Remaining in her stance in the chair, she simply glances back at Rosie and responds.*
Ykaterina: I agree that this title I hold is of lesser value in this company. In fact, it was for that reason that I procured it. It was a disgrace to have a pretender championship floating around, but now that I have brought it with me to the match for March 29, it will be united with the true title that has been here since Parade of Champions. As for who'll win? Hmmm...I wonder who that could be? I would have said it could be you, but now that you won't have anyone to save you from certain defeat--which seems to be a recurring theme for you here in W*I*G--I don't think that's all that likely. Unless you actually use your true ability. Yet, I cannot be sure that will be the case. Unprofessionalism among the wrestlers here--particularly some of the women, such as you--has been a problem that no one could rid themselves of. You cheated Fannie Package out of a title match. Chick Aura cowardly ambushed Juri Sadamoto and put her out of action for months. Vile attacked Lily-Rose without an iota of provocation. It's terrible that this continues, and unfortunately, all you continue to do is propagate it instead of acting on skill and honor. That's why I stepped up to fight for the others...the victims of this recurring plague...and it has seemed that the tide has turned on more than one front for now. That's also why, at March 29, it will be over. And no amount of scheming or cheating will save you this time, Rosie.
*Rosie simply glares back as she listens to Ykaterina words, a sickening scowl forming across her face as she does. The woman simply leans forward, looking right into her future opponent's masked face.*
Rosie: Quite a mouth on ya, just like last time we spoke. Well for your information, I don't need no scheming or cheating to take you out. It'll just be a simple matter and driving my fist right between your eyeholes. I've been champion here for the past six months and I don't intend to lose to the likes of some newcomer from Commietown. This is my belt, it has been before you even set foot in WIG, and it will continue to be MY belt after I throw your lifeless ass in the back of an meat wagon. That said... try and make it interesting for me. Won't be any fun if ya just keel over before the start of the bell.
Ykaterina: You know, it's funny. Both you and Vile seem to make a big deal about my nation of origin. You, right now, criticize it, and you speak of our former government like you're on a higher plane...yet you, Rosie, act very much the same as they did. Anyone dares to oppose you? Oh, let's break the rules we're supposed to represent and crush the opposition! And what happened? Rebellion happened. Suddenly things for those in charge didn't look so good. And we're at that same stage here, now.
Rosie: Rules are nothing more than promises that ain't ever kept. Nobody ever listens to all the rules ya know. Anybody who says otherwise is lying through their ugly teeth. I admit... I ain't the most honest bitch in the world, but far as I'm concerned, honesty don't mean a damn thing in my book. I ain't a lier myself... most of the time, but when you get right down to it, all an honest person says I'm better than you because I don't hide anything. Some things are meant to be hidden ya know... that's why we don't know about them! Some things we don't need to know about either, like the meaning of life and all that. In fact, the only thing you should concern yourself with knowing is this. At March 29th.. I will take that belt from your and hold it up above your limp body laying on the mat!
Ykaterina: I must say, I have respect for how blunt you are on things, but that does not mean that you are right. I agree, no one person is infallible, but that doesn't mean that we cannot at least try to better ourselves, to better this company...to better the world, even, on a larger scale. And we cannot do that when people like you poison the foundations that we use to try to attain that. You can be brutal, aggressive, destructive...that's fine, but breaking the rules over and over just to further your own goals? That's gone on long enough and it needs to stop. Like I said to Vile, over a month ago, let us cease this pointless argument. Nothing will be proven until March 29. Once that's over, we'll see who is not only correct, but who is the W*I*G Women's Champion.
Rosie: That's fine with me. Words solve nothing anyway. We'll settle things then and there... and when the dust is settled, there will only be one dominant woman standing.
*With these final words, Rosie slowly rises up out of her seat and glares back down at her future opponent, a very focused look in her eyes. She pats across the plate of her WIG Women's championship once more, before turning around and quickly making her exit out of the ring, the crowd booing loudly as she does. Jett simply watches, then turns back to Ykaterina and smiles, shaking hands with her, before taking his own leave soon after. Ykaterina watches them leave, places the EWT GND Championship around her waist and leaves the ring last, the crowd cheering for her as she leaves the area via the ramp. Fade out.*
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Post by L. Rey on Mar 22, 2009 18:21:47 GMT -5
*We open up on the W*I*Gsphere. Howard Finkel and a referee are standing in the middle of the ring. On the outside surrounding the ring are a bunch of security guards. Howard Finkel: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. During this match, security guards will be stationed the ringside area as one of W*I*G’s general managers, Reynaldo Fernandéz, has ordered that James “Magnum” Constance, Damien Blood, and Toby Nicholas Tucker will be banned from interfering in this match; and the security are here to make sure that they do not interfere in the match. Tom Bailey: Looks like our new co-GM, Mr. Fernandéz, is going to make sure we don’t have another brawl among these four men. Jeannie Lawless: Yeah, but saying that you’re going to keep Magnum, L. Rey, Damien, and TNT from fighting and actually making sure it comes true are two different realities. And, judging by their performance those last two times, I doubt the security can keep that from happening. *L. Rey’s music plays.* www.youtube.com/watch?v=QoQdLJt--kEFinkel: Introducing first, coming down the aisle, at 5 feet 9 inches, weighting at 202 pounds, from Amarillo, Texas—L. REY. *L. Rey comes out to a big pop. He’s wearing a black leather coat, black khakis, and black boots. He’s also carrying his guitar. The security guards move out of the way as L. Rey runs down to the ring and slides into it. L. Rey jumps up on the second turnbuckle of a corner facing the Colvintron and points the neck of his guitar toward it. Then, he moves the guitar back and forth as pyro goes off in rapid succession, like a machine gun. Then, he jumps off the turnbuckle. L. Rey takes off his coat and hands it and his guitar to the referee, who hands them to the timekeeper.* Tom: Well, L. Rey looks pumped for a fight! Jeannie: True, but I hope he hasn’t wasted all his energy fighting with Damien and TNT. Tom: I think he hopes so, too. L. Rey could use all the momentum he can get going into March 29th. *Antimony’s music plays.* www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYbmh8Tl3kQFinkel: And, his opponent, coming down from the rafters, at 6 feet, weighting at 236 pounds, from the School Of Hard Knocks—ANTIMONY. *The crowd gives Antimony boos as he slides down a cable across the W*I*Gsphere. Once he slides over the ring, he lets go and lands in the ring. Antimony is wearing a blue mask with a red skull on it and a blue full body suit, blue gloves, and blue boots with a red barb wire design on all of them.* Tom: WHOA! What an entrance! I’ve never seen any like it! Jeannie: Really!? Tom: Yes, really. Jeannie: Well, you haven’t been watching TNA lately. Tom: Not really. I’m more concerned with what’s going on here. For example, where did this guy get the name Antimony. Jeannie: Antimony is a chemical element with the symbol Sb for the Latin word stibium, meaning “mark,” and has the atomic number of 51. It is a metalloid and has four allotropic forms. The stable form of antimony is a blue-white metalloid. Yellow and black antimony are unstable non-metals. And, antimony is used in flame-proofing, paints, ceramics, enamels, a wide variety of alloys, electronics, and rubber. Tom: How do you know all this? Jeannie: What? Just because I’m constantly horny doesn’t mean I’m not smart. Anyway, this Antimony seems familiar—where have I heard of him before? *The bell rings. Antimony and L. Rey are about to tie up. However, L. Rey stuns Antimony with an armdrag. Antimony gets up and charges at L. Rey, but L. Rey hits him with another arm drag. Antimony gets up again, but this time L. Rey hits him with a dropkick. Antimony gets up again. Suddenly, L. Rey charges at Antimony and hits him with a high-impact front dropkick, sending him falling backwards into the ropes. L. Rey gets up runs to the opposite ropes, bounces off of them, runs to across the ring, and hits Antimony in the back with a 619, sending him flying onto the mat.* Tom: L. Rey starts off strong, busting out Golpeyando En La Puerta Del Cielo early in the match. Jeannie: I guess he didn’t want to wait to make us pay money to Bob Dylan. *L. Rey stands up on the apron, waiting for Antimony to get up. He does, and L. Rey jumps onto the top rope and jumps off. However, Antimony ducks; and L. Rey hits the mat. He gets up and turns around, only to be hit by a dropkick from Antimony. L. Rey falls back into the ropes and bounces off of them; Antimony grabs L. Rey and hits him with a spinebuster. Then, Antimony moves onto the apron and climbs up to the top turnbuckle. He jumps off, but L. Rey moves out of the way. Antimony lands on his feet, and L. Rey kips up. Antimony charges at L. Rey, but L. Rey catches him with a hurricanrana, holding onto Antimony for a pin.* Ref: 1…2…*Antimony kicks out.* Tom: L. Rey recovers after a huge misstep and nearly gets the three count. Jeannie: Man. That Antimony seems familiar. Tom: Where have you seen him before? Jeannie: I don’t know. I think I read about him when we were Japan, but I don’t know why? *Antimony and L. Rey get up. L. Rey charges at him, but Antimony sidesteps him and hits him with an enziguiri. L. Rey doesn’t go down but just staggers around. Antimony grabs L. Rey and hits him with a DDT. Antimony then grabs L. Rey’s legs, but L. Rey flips him over. Antimony lands on his feet as L. Rey kips up. They turn around, and Antimony hits L. Rey with a Pele kick. L. Rey staggers back as Antimony gets up. Then, L. Rey charges at Antimony, but Antimony hits him with a backdrop driver.* Tom: Welcome To Heartbreak to L. Rey. Antimony is now getting in some offense. Jeannie: Goddamn! I have a bad case of déjà vu! Tom: Maybe it was something you ate! *small giggle* Jeannie: My jokes maybe bad, but at least they aren’t cliché. *Antimony goes to pick up L. Rey, but L. Rey surprises him with some kicks to the head. Antimony staggers back as L. Rey runs to the ropes. However, Antimony grabs L. Rey by his hair and slams him hard to the mat. The crowd boos this as Antimony moves onto the apron. Then, Antimony jumps onto the top rope and jumps off, landing on L. Rey with a springboard 450º splash. He goes for a pin.* Ref: 1…2…*L. Rey kicks out.* Tom: Antimony shows L. Rey some School Spirit, but it doesn’t keep him down for the win. Jeannie: I know I’ve seen this Antimony before! Goddammit! This is driving me crazy! *Antimony grabs L. Rey and rolls him up into a reverse chinlock with the opponent pulled back onto Antimony’s knees.* Tom: Now, Antimony has L. Rey locked in See You In My Nightmares. Jeannie: Dammit! Where have I seen this guy before? Tom: Maybe it’s Kanye West! Jeannie: What? Tom: You know! Because all these moves are named after Kanye West songs. Jeannie: No. *Antimony has the move locked on, but L. Rey struggles to get out. Suddenly, he slips out and rolls over onto Antimony, going for a pin.* Ref: 1…2…*Antimony throws L. Rey off of him.* *Antimony kips-up, L. Rey jumps up, and they both turn around. Suddenly, L. Rey hits Antimony with a hurricanrana, sending him into the ropes. L. Rey then runs to the opposite ropes, bounces off of them, runs back to Antimony, and hits him with a feint shining wizard spun backwards into a back heel kick.* Tom: Desperado! L. Rey surprised Antimony, hitting him with El Angel Attack! Jeannie: Desperado? Somebody likes the Eagles and/or that Antonio Banderas movie. Tom: You know, L. Rey looks like Antonio Banderas a little bit. *Antimony gets up as L. Rey stands up on the apron. Suddenly, L. Rey jumps up onto the top rope, jumps off, and hits Antimony with a springboard forearm strike.* Tom: La Espada De Damocles to Antimony! What a nice little match we got here! Jeannie: Yeah. It would be great if I could figure out who Antimony was! Tom: Can’t you wait until after the match? Jeannie: No! It’s driving me crazy! *Both men get up. Antimony goes for a kick, but L. Rey grabs it and takes him to the mat with a dragon screw leg whip. Then, L. Rey quickly jumps onto the top turnbuckle of a corner, jumps off, and lands on Antimony with a corkscrew 450º splash. He goes for a pin.* Ref: 1…2…*Antimony gets an arm on the bottom rope.* Tom: La Iluminación Choca to Antimony almost gets a 3 count, but Antimony is able to grab the bottom rope. Jeannie: Damn! So much back and forth action! I’m enjoying this so much that I’m not even making sexual comments about the wrestlers! *L. Rey gets up. Suddenly, everyone’s attentions turn to TNT, who is walking down to the ring, still in his black attire from the last times we saw him and with that black noseguard on his head. The security immediately walks over to him to keep him from going into the ring.* Tom: Not again! TNT is trying to enter the ring, but security has stopped. Jeannie: But, for how long? *TNT argues with security and tries to brush by them and get into the ring. However, they hold him off. This has the attentions of L. Rey and the referee. Suddenly, Antimony grabs L. Rey, swings him around and sprays a red Asian mist into his eyes. The audience boos loudly.* Tom: What the hell!? TNT has distracted the referee, allowing Antimony to spray L. Rey with that red mist. Jeannie: Dammit! What is so familiar about this Antimony!? *L. Rey staggers around, trying to wipe the mist out of his eyes. Suddenly, Antimony runs to the ropes, jumps onto the top ropes, and jumps off, landing on L. Rey with a springboard moonsault into an upside down double knee strike. The referee turns around as Antimony grabs L. Rey’s leg, holding him for a pin. The ref goes to make the count.* Ref: 1…2…3! *The bell rings, and the crowd is stunned into silence.* Finkel: Here is your winner—ANTIMONY. Tom: Holy Hannah Montana! I don’t believe it! Antimony hits the Hard Knocks and beats L. Rey! Jeannie: Where the hell have I heard of this guy!? *TNT starts clapping and laughing. The audience and the security guards look confused. Antimony gets up and pulls off his mask, revealing himself to be Damien Blood. The crowd boos mercilessly.* Tom: Son of a bitch! Jeannie: That’s why he looked so familiar! Antimony was an alter-ego Damien created when he lost a Loser Leaves Town match in TigerPath in 2006 and used to get back in! Tom: It just took you now to figure that out! Jeannie: Well, I only read about it and saw one match with Damien in the Antimony costume! Lay off me! *Suddenly, Damien starts attacking L. Rey. The security guards are confused about what to do: they were assigned to keep Damien and TNT from interfering, but the match is over; and Damien is technically one of the participants in the match. However, the crowd suddenly starts cheering instead of booing. James “Magnum” Constance, still in his wrestling gear, runs through the crowd, and jumps over the guardrail. He grabs L. Rey’s guitar and slides into the ring. Damien charges at him, but Magnum is able to get up and smashes the guitar over Damien’s head.* Tom: Thank God! James “Magnum” Constance has come to the rescue, smashing L. Rey’s guitar over Damien Blood’s head! Jeannie: Wow! That’s some crack security staff W*I*G has. They did a good job keeping Magnum, Damien, and TNT out of this match. *The crowd goes wild as Magnum starts kicking Damien. On the outside, TNT is trying to get to Magnum, but the security stop him. A few start to go to the ring, which creates a hole that TNT slips through. He slides into the ring and charges at Magnum, but Magnum catches him and hits him a throat-first flapjack onto the top rope, followed by a clothesline.* Tom: TNT breaks through the security and enters the ring. He goes after Magnum, but Magnum catches him with Kiss The Sabre. Jeannie: I hope Mr. Fernandéz is watching and decides to replace these security guards with some real life soldiers. *Magnum starts punching TNT in the head, but TNT punches back. The security guards enter the ring to pull them apart, but Magnum and TNT fight them off and then go back to fight each other.* Tom: Good Lord! They’re going to kill each other! Will these men even make it to March 29th? Jeannie: I don’t know! The only way to find out is to call your local pay-per-view provider and order March 29th, live on pay-per-view on…well, March 29th! Tom: Nice shill. Jeannie: Thank you! *Cut to commercial.*
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Jack Jupiter
Local Talent
I'm the REAL Jack Jupiter!
Posts: 10
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Post by Jack Jupiter on Mar 22, 2009 22:04:39 GMT -5
Finkel: The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall. Introducing first… “Crystal Planet” by Joe Satriani picks up over the Colvitron’s speakers as a very young looking Korean man in silver trunks with a blue and red Taegeuk on the rear, black boots, black knee pads and black elbow pads steps out onto the stage.* Finkel: From Seoul, South Korea, weighing in at 193 pounds…SUNSAZ TO~GIIIIBA! Jeannie: Hubba hubba! Tom: ...I've heard great things about this individual, Togiba, from the grapevine. If what has been said is true, his opponent might be in for a world of hurt. Jeannie: He can hurt me ANY DA- Tom: AHEM. *He looks a bit intimidated by the surroundings around him, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Togiba begins walking down the aisle, cautiously slapping hands with fans eager to cheer on the new guy. Sunsaz slides into the ring upon reaching it and turns around to face the stage, folding his arms anxiously as his music fades out.* Finkel: And his opponent… Work it, make it, do it, makes us, Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger *Kanye West’s “Stronger” picks up onto the speakers as Jack Jupiter struts confidently, out and onto the stage to boos. He is clad in a long, fire orange fur coat with at least twenty unbuckled rubber belts horizontally arranged, one above the other, down the front of his coat, with a number of paisley scarves, each a different color, are wrapped around his neck. Over his eyes are slightly oversized, translucent dark blue sunglasses that reflect the lights bouncing onto them off in a horizontal beam. Behind him is Dreia Bourbone, an unassuming faux leather briefcase in tow, matching with her equally nondescript, half-asleep appearance.* Finkel: Accompanied by his bodyguard, Dreia Bourbone, from San Diego, California, weighing in at 221 pounds…he is…JACK…JUUUUUPITERRRRRR! Tom: Today we welcome another new addition to the WIG locker room. He may not be the biggest in the fight, but he has enough money to hire someone to do it for him. Jeannie: Yeah, ANOTHER chick. He could have hired a nice piece of meat that goes with him much easier. I mean you got his slightly handsome self and then you got that blonde zombie. Tom: Weird company excluded, Jack has got to be nervous. This is his one chance to make a big splash in his first outing. *Jack continues walking down the aisle with a deliberate pace, his head bobbing in time with the rhythm of the music. Dreia follows him, her hips sashaying to the music at a tempo equal to that of Jack. He walks to the ring, trying to dodge any outreaching hands from the audience members in the aisle and rolling his eyes in a continuous fashion. At the intersection of the area outside of the ring and the aisle, he stops, and Dreia stops instantly, still behind him. Jack spreads his legs apart slightly and points straight up in the air, as a burst of red, gold, blue and white pyro erupts from the stage. As soon as he pumps his arm down, the pyro stops and he slides into the ring, Dreia climbing onto the steps nearby as her means to enter with him.* Tom: He certainly don't hold back on the pyro. Jeannie: Why enter with a whimper when you can start with a BANG. OH! Tom: ...No moaning. *As Jack enters the ring, he jumps up, spinning around on one foot in a 360. He ascends the nearest turnbuckle, shrugging with his arms outstretched and grins, pointing to audience members, back to himself and shaking his head. He jumps off, turning 180 degrees and lands on his feet. With his head bobbing rhythmically, Jack walks to the middle of the ring, slowly removing his coat and tossing it over his shoulder to the referee. He takes off his many scarves and his sunglasses, also tossing them to the referee who strains to catch all of them. As the ref turns around to hand his gear to the timekeeper, Jack turns to Dreia, motioning for her to exit the ring and she does so. As the exits, the ref still turned around, Jack instantly charges at Togiba and forces him into a corner, hammering him with numerous punches to the face as well as a series of kicks to the abdomen. The ref finally turns around, and, seeing this, calls for the bell to start the match.* DING DING DING! Jeannie: Bit slow on the draw their, ref. Tom: Referral unprofessionalism aside, you can't fault Jack Jupiter for wanting to get the upper hand. Even if the bell hasn't rung. Jeannie: I can't believe Mr. Rulebook is condoning this... Tom: Not his fault the ref was slow there. *Jack continues his assault on Sunsaz Togiba, hitting a few more punches and kicks before whipping the Korean into the opposite corner. Togiba ricochets out of hit, and Jack runs at him again. Sunsaz tries to grab him and counter, but Jack hits him with a flapjack dropkick, knocking him back down to the mat. Jack follows up with a few stomps to the head of his downed opponent. He pauses, turning to his bodyguard for approval. Dreia, her arms folded, simply shrugs. Jack shrugs in response and turns back around to stomp Togiba again, but his opponent is nowhere to be seen. Jack turns back around, and off a corner that was out of his peripheral vision, the Korean leaps straight at him with a crossbody, taking Jack down to the mat and landing on him in a pinning position.* Tom: Looks like this might cost Jack! 1! Jeannie: If you're going to stare at a woman and get distracted, at least look over here! 2! Tom: Looks like the rumors were true! KICKOUT! Tom: Close call there for Jack. If he does not take Togiba seriously, his debut could fall very flat. Jeannie: As flat as Juri Sadamoto's chest? Tom: ...wow. *Jack pushes Sunsaz off of him, scrambling up to his feet and lunging at him, but Togiba quickly dodges backwards, catching Jupiter in the left side of the head with a quick roundhouse kick that instantly forces Jack to cover up the left side of his head. In response, Sunsaz hits him in the right side of the head with a roundhouse, prompting Jack to drop the guard over the left side of his head and cover up the right. Togiba hits him with another kick to the left, followed by one to the right, and begins alternating with a few more kicks. At the end of this barrage, Jack stumbles forward, and Sunsaz spins around, hitting Jupiter with a back kick straight to the stomach. Jack groans, doubling over and falling to his knees. Following up, Sunsaz runs into the ropes, rebounding off and hitting Jack with a leg lariat. Jupiter crumples to the mat, and Togiba covers him again.* Tom: Impressive display by Togiba! And he goes for the pin! 1! Jeannie: Those kicks are hurtful! Just think if someone more attractive was in Jack's place. Oh I almost couldn't bare it! 2! Tom: He might get the three! KICKOUT! Jeannie: Just enough for Jack to wiggle out of! ...Heh... I said wiggle. Tom: ...If Jupiter doesn't do something quick, this match will not end favorably for him. *Jack forces Sunsaz Togiba off of him, and still a bit dizzy from the combination earlier, staggers up to his feet. Togiba knees him in the stomach and delivers a snapmare, throwing Jack over his shoulder and stiffly kicking him in the spine. The sound of the kick reverberates throughout the W*I*G-Sphere as Jack clutches his back, groaning. Sunsaz picks him up and attempts to suplex Jack, but Jack counters by hooking his leg around that of Togiba’s, and executes a snap suplex. Staggering and getting back up to his feet, Jack nods his head and grins, content with the apparent change in momentum. Jack picks the young man around the waist, belly-to-belly style, and gives him an inverted atomic drop that sends Togiba reeling, and back into the ropes. As Sunsaz comes bouncing off, Jack follows up with a powerslam, and rockets up to his feet, aggressively stomping at Togiba around the head and chest. Jack goes for the cover.* Jeannie: That's what I'm talking about! Male on Male action! Tom: ....Jack goes for the pin. 1! Jeannie: What? 2! Jeannie: No really, what?! KICKOUT! Tom: And just not enough for Jupiter this time. I didn't think Sunsaz would be put away that easy anyway. Jeannie: Oh are you giving me the silent treatment now? ...ANSWER ME! *Jack gets up, arguing with the referee that Sunsaz Togiba’s narrow kickout was “clearly” worthy of being a three but the referee admonishes him, keeping his decision concrete. Jack looks back to Dreia for support, but she keeps her arms folded and does not nod, shake or head or even speak. Her listless eyes look dully back at him. The young Jupiter turns around, and again, the agile Sunsaz Togiba is back up to his feet. He sweep kicks Jack Jupiter, knocking him clear off his feet and executes a standing somersault senton to Jack. Laying on his back, Jack begins acting as if he were in the midst of a seizure, his body convulsing, his arms flailing and his legs violently kicking about. The referee shifts his attention on the downed man, checking on him to see that he’s alright, and Togiba backs up, towards the ropes. With the referee’s attention focused entirely on Jack, Dreia, still outside the ring, walks up to Togiba, standing above, and forearms Sunsaz in both of his ankles. Sunsaz flops downward onto his face and Jack Jupiter launches himself back onto his feet immediately, spinning around and malevolently kicking and stomping Togiba in the face and chest once again. The crowd boos this turn of events, and Jack picks up Sunsaz, grabbing him in a ura-nage, and hitting him with a ura-nage backbreaker. Jack then picks him up, still in the ura-nage position and slams him flat on his back, covering Togiba. The ref drops down and begins counting.* Tom: Highly questionable actions by Jack's “bodyguard”, Dreia. Jeannie: What's so questionable? She just cheated. And now Jack goes for the pin! 1! Tom: If he wins this, it will be under false pretenses! 2! Jeannie: Oh, you wet blanket. KICKOUT! Tom: Thankfully, Sunsaz gets the chance to continue this match. Jeannie: And I get the chance to ogle him more. Tom: A rejoice for everyone. *Jack gets up to his feet, grabbing Sunsaz Togiba by the legs and dragging him to the nearest set of ropes, setting him parallel to them. Jack exits the ring, standing on the apron, and grabs the top ropes, leaping off with a Tope Atomico. But Togiba rolls out of the way, causing Jack to crash back-first onto the mat. Jack tries to get up, but Sunsaz runs towards him, attempting another crossbody. Jack manages to catch him in mid-air, preparing to hit him with a backbreaker, but Sunsaz grabs him around the head, spins around and hits a spinning DDT, planting Jack’s blonde head into the mat. Instantly following up, Togiba jumps to the top turnbuckle and leaps off, hitting a double foot stomp to his back. Sunsaz Togiba drops down and hooks a leg, and the referee counts the pin.* Tom: After an amazing display of counters, Sunsaz has Jack down for what might be the match winning pin! 1! Jeannie: Well it was fun, Jacky, but I think I'll be rooting for the winner now... 2! Tom: And with tha- KICKOUT! Tom: Jack kicked out! Jeannie: And the winner is someone only I know for the time being. Tom: Smooth. *Jack kicks out, looking a bit exasperated and only about half-conscious. Togiba gets to his feet, a hand over the back of his own head in shock at not getting the pin. He clenches his other fist and pumps it, and points to the nearest turnbuckle. Sunsaz goes scaling it, and as he reaches the top, he bites his lower lip and points with both arms at the dizzy Jack Jupiter, still picking himself up to his feet. As Jack turns around, he leaps forward, off the turnbuckle. Jack tries to respond with a clothesline to counter, but Togiba stomps himself in mid-air, landing mere inches away from Jack and rolling under the clothesline. He runs into the ropes, bouncing off as Jupiter turns around. Jack puts his head down as if to deliver a back body drop, but Togiba kicks him right in the face. Jack staggers backwards before reeling forwards, doubled over, and Togiba baseball slides under him, hopping up to his feet, and jumps up over Jack. He wraps his legs around the bent over Jack and wraps his arms around his head. He looks ready to follow up with some sort of extra move, but Dreia Bourbone climbs onto the apron, feigning as if to enter into the ring. The referee turns to look at her, warning her to cease her current activity, and Sunsaz Togiba shifts his attention towards her as well, his eyes away from Jack. With the time bought, Jack recuperates and hooks his right arm around Togiba’s head, throwing him off of his back and onto the mat. Dreia drops back down off of the apron, As Togiba gets back up to his feet and turns around, Jack catches him with a few punches and grabs him in a belly to belly position. Sunsaz Togiba headbutts him, forcing Jack to release the hold, and he turns around, holding his hands over his left eye and bellowing at the top of his lungs.* Tom: With the unnecessary interjections by Jack's bodyguard yet again, Jack was looking for an easy victory. No such luck. Jeannie: Not the face! That's his main cuteness feature! Tom: ...You have got to believe anymore of this and Jack Jupiter might just retreat to his mansion, forgetting the life of a wrestler. *The referee, confused at this turn of events, goes over to Jack to check on his eye and assess the situation. He separates a distraught Sunsaz Togiba from them, keeping him away from him and Jack. Togiba shakes his head in confusion, but the referee continues to examine Jack Jupiter’s eye. With the referee once again distracted, Dreia Bourbone grabs her briefcase, slowly walking towards an unaware Sunsaz Togiba from outside, and slides into the ring, right behind him. She taps the young man on the shoulder and he turns around. In an instant, she clocks him in the face with the briefcase, knocking him down and onto his back. Quickly, she slides right back out of the ring and immediately returns to her previous post. Miraculously, Jack’s eye clears up afterwards and, feeling better, he pushes the ref away from him, going over to the downed Togiba and picking him up. The ref is no less bewildered than before, and oblivious to what just transpired, continues to officiate as the crowd responds with a cavalcade of boos. With a smile and an unnecessary flourish, Jack executes the Cyclone Driver on Sunsaz Togiba, drilling his head into the mat and covering him.* Tom: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! Jeannie: What does he see in her? 1! Tom: Come on, Togiba! Don't let it end like this! 2! Jeannie: That was a very nice head drop. I give it 4.5 Kobashi's. 3! Tom: Well.... dammit! Jeannie: Well what do you know? I was cheering for the winner all along! I'm so smart. DING DING DING! *“Stronger” picks back over the speakers as Jack Jupiter rockets up to his feet, raising an arm in dramatic fashion and exiting the ring.* Finkel: Here is your winner…JACK JUPITER! Tom: But at what cost to dignity? Jeannie: When we look back at this, it will only say a win. Besides, not like the ref saw it. Tom: The ref was doing his job checking on Jack! Jeannie: Oh NOW he does his job correctly! *He collects his gear—along with a microphone—from the timekeeper, dressing like previously as he climbs back in. Dreia, dented briefcase in hand, enters the ring with him as she stands next to him and the music quickly cuts off.* Jack: And so here stands Jack Jupiter, with a breathtaking victory. But against what kind of opponent? *He points downward at the dazed Togiba, flat on his back.* Jack: This guy? THIS guy? He looks like a freakin' kid! I mean, hey... *Jack leans down and picks his opponent up by the head.* Jack: How OLD are you? Togiba: ...six...teen... *Jack rolls his eyes and shoves him back down to the mat, before standing upright.* Jack: Sixteen. Sixteen. I wouldn't be shocked if this kid is still wearing pull-ups under those hideous tights! I mean, sheesh! It's the REAL Jack Jupiter's magificent debut, and you don't even bother to dress up nicely for your inevitable destruction? Have some courtesy...have some RESPECT for Jack Jupiter. *Jack snaps his fingers.* Jack: Dreia...dispose of this baboon. *Dreia places her dented briefcase down and rolls her neck. She grabs Togiba by the shoulder and neck. With a slightly lift she drags him to the edge of the ring and hapharzardly throws him out. She returns back to her briefcase and picks it back up.* Jack: *he smirks and looks to her for a moment* Thank you Dreia...that will be all for now. Anyway, now that the little snot is out of the ring...where was I? Oh yes! First of all, I want to thank all of you for being able to make it. Now I know that my VERY FIRST match here in W*I*G was what brought all of you here...I mean, isn't that the American Dream? To see Jack Jupiter wrestle? To see Jack Jupiter's wonderful sense of fashion? To just PLAIN see Jack Jupiter? The answer is, of course, YES. *The crowd boos at Jack, but the sound of boos seems to be music to his ears. He smiles and nods at everyone.* Jack: See, that's what I love to hear. You might not realize it yet, but that's a sound of endearment. It'll change...change into cheers and wild screaming. Men and women alike will faint when they see me, and children will want to grow up to be like me! Of course, you'll fail, almost as hard as that Korean kid just did, but...But my main point here, is that I--Jack Jupiter...the REAL Jack Jupiter--am in an unfortunate situation. That is...I want more competition. C'mon, give me something better than what I just demolished on national television! I want tougher competition. Granted, they won't fare any better against the indisputable might of Jack Jupiter, but it'll be a little more fun to go up against someone who doesn't just collapse with a purple forehead in the middle of the ring. *Dreia slightly blinks her eyes.* Jack: You see, my bodyguard here, judging by her reaction, ALSO isn't impressed with my opponent. That speaks volumes when such a gregarious person is nearly put to sleep by that...thing...I wrestled against. Tom: Should he really be talking about his opponent whom he barely beat with the THANKS of that bodyguard. Jeannie: Hush, cute-ness is talking. Jack: ...is...isn't that right, Dreia? *He lifts the mic to her mouth. She stares down at it then blankly at him.* Dreia: Wrong. Jack: It...it is wrong! It's so, so, SO very wrong that I am put in a match against someone whose caliber is not a tenth of a percent of mine! Well...that settles it! This is to YOU guys running things now...give me a better opponent! I'll be scouting everyone at March 29, and afterward...the REAL Jack Jupiter wants the best you can give him! *Dreia stares blankly into the crowd as Jack finishes his "strong words." "Stronger" picks back up on the speakers as Jack Jupiter drops the microphone and exits the ring, Dreia behind him. Exiting in much the same way that they entered, they make their way back up to the stage and disappear behind the curtain. Fade out to the next segment.*
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Post by Paul's Boutique on Mar 23, 2009 20:33:00 GMT -5
*We open on the beginning of Beastie Boys’ “Looking Down The Barrel Of A Gun.” We see on a man of medium muscular build, toned, ripped, and fit. He has curly black hair and blue eyes, has a light stubble, and has pale skin. He is wearing a denim jacket, a white short sleeve shirt, baggy jeans, white socks, and white sneakers. He walks into a New York City bar in slow motion. He walks over to the bar, and we see three guys arguing with the bartender: a big black guy in a large Yankees jersey, black jeans, and sneakers; a muscular white guy with gelled spiked hair dressed in a polo shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers; and a Latino with a Mets cap on backwards, a white wifebeater, khakis, and black boots. The man grabs a bottle that’s on the bar, opens it, and slowly drinks it until the beer is all gone as the three men keep arguing with the bartender. Suddenly, the man takes the beer bottle and swings it at the big black guy yelling at the bartender. Suddenly, the scene freezes, and the name “The High Plains Drifter” appears at the bottom of the screen.* AAAAAH! *The scene unfreezes, and the High Plains Drifter smashes the beer bottler upside the man’s head.* Rolling down the hill, snowballing getting bigger *As the big black guy falls to the floor, the Drifter punches the white guy with his left fist.* Explosion in the chamber, the hammer from the trigger *As the white guys falls onto the bar, the Drifter hits the Latino with an uppercut, sending him to the floor..* I seen him get stabbed, I watched the blood spill out *The Drifter turns around and hits the black guy in the other side of the head with his knee as he tries to get up, sending him back to the floor.* He had more cuts than my man Chuck Chillout *The Drifter grabs the white guy and throws him off the bar and over a table.* 24 is my age and 22 is my gauge *The Latino gets up, and the Drifter turns around and gives him a roundhouse kick to the gut.* I'm writing rhymes on a page, and going up in a rage *The black guy gets up and grabs the Drifter.* 'Cause I'm out on a mission, a stolen car mission *The black guy picks up the Drifter and throws him onto a pool table in the bar.* Had a small problem with the transmission *The other two guys get up as the Drifter turns around on the table.* 3 on the tree in the middle of the night *The three guys charge at the Drifter.* I have this steak on my head 'cause I got into a fist fight *The Drifter grabs some billiard balls and throws them at the guys.* Life comes in phases take the good with the bad *One of the balls hits the white guy in the nose, causing it to bleed.* You bought the coins on the street and you know you got had *Another ball hits the Latino in the eye, and he falls to the ground holding it.* Because it's all high spirit, you know you got to hear it *The last ball hits the black guy in the chest, but it doesn’t even phase.* Don't touch the mic baby don't come near it *The Drifter grabs a pool stick and breaks it across the black guys head, but he keeps charging at the Drifter.* It's gonna getcha, it's gonna getcha *The black guy grabs the Drifter, slams him against the wall, and gives him a bear hug.* It's gonna getcha girl, it's gonna getcha *We cut to the High Plains Drifter standing on the roof of building. He has a guitar in his hands, and he’s playing the guitar parts of the song as an off-screen wind machine blows his hair and jacket back.* *The Drifter punches the black guy in order to get him to let go, but he doesn’t.* Looking down the barrel of a gun *The Drifter hits him with some karate chops to the neck to get him to let go, but he doesn’t.* Son of gun son of a bitch *Then, the Drifter grabs a neon sign from the wall and smashes it over his head; this finally get the black guy to let go.* Getting paid getting rich *The Drifter then kicks the black guy in the crotch, causing him to bend over.* Ultra violence be running through my head *The Drifter grabs the black guy and throws him head first into a juke box.* Cold medina y'all, making me see red *The white guy gets up and charges at the Drifter as the Drifter grabs a baseball bat off the wall.* Rapid fire Louie like Rambo got bullets *The Drifter swings the bat and hits the white guy.* I'm a die harder like my kid Bruce Willis *The white guy flips over and falls onto the floor.* I love girlies, waxing and milking *The Drifter grabs a chair as the white guy tries to get up.* Coordinating shit is my man Dave Scilken *The Drifter then breaks the chair over the white guys back.* Predetermined destiny is who I am *Suddenly, the Latino comes charging at the Drifter; he has a very visible black eye.* You got your finger on the trigger like the Son of Sam *The Drifter ducks and back body drops the Latino onto a table, smashing it.* I am like Clockwork Orange, going off on the town *The Drifter picks up the Latino, ripping his wifebeater.* I've got homeboys bonanza to beat your ass down *Then, the Drifter puts the Latino onto his shoulder.* Well I'm mad at my desk and I'll be writing all curse words *Then, the Drifter runs to the bar with the Latino on his shoulder.* Expressing my aggressions through my schizophrenic verse words *Suddenly, the Drifter sends the Latino flying off his shoulder; the bartender ducks.* You're a headless chicken chasin’ a sucker free basin *The Latino hits the shelves filled with bottles of alcohol, smashing several of them, and then lands on the floor.* Looking for a fist to put your face in *Several alcohol bottles fall onto the Latino; the bartender stands up as the Drifter walks over to the bar.* Well get hip get hip, don't slip ya knuckle heads *The Drifter throws a huge wad of money onto the bar and then leaves the bar.* Racism is schism on the serious tip *We cut back to the High Plains Drifter standing on the roof of building, playing the guitar as an off-screen wind machine blows his hair and jacket back. After a while, he stops playing the guitar. Then, he pulls it off his shoulder, swings it around, and smashes it onto the floor. He picks it up and smashes the guitar on the floor again, causing it to break this time. Then, he throws the broken guitar at the camera and walks away.* *The song stops, and we cut to the High Plains Drifter standing in front of the store from the last promo: Paul’s Boutique. Then, this voice over begins.* The best in men's clothing. Call Paul’s Boutique; ask for Janice. The number is ah (718) 498-1043 That's Paul’s Boutique, and they're in Brooklyn...
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Post by SsnakeBite, the No1 Frenchman on Mar 24, 2009 15:02:52 GMT -5
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The Innocent
Opener
Rosie: First Ever WIG Women's Champion
Posts: 88
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Post by The Innocent on Mar 24, 2009 21:51:27 GMT -5
We return to the scene of the WIG Sphere once more, now preparing once more for a match. Finkel: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Apocalyptica's Ruska begins to pick up on the Colvintron, as the crowd immediately begins booing loudly. A familiar giant man soon emerges from behind the curtain, an emotionless expression formed across his facial features. He is clad as usual in a white singlet, with golden yellow stripes going down the middle, as along a set of white kneepads, elbow pads, and boots, the latter with golden lace. He slowly bends down to a knee, quickly saying a prayer of some sort, before rising back to his feet, now starting to make his way down towards the ring. Finkel: Introducing first, representing the Innocent, from the Land of Purity, weighing in at 363 pounds, Earnest! Bailey: And here comes the man who seems to have his eye on one Aqil Ghassan. After a request by Joshua, the sizable Earnest has now been... well, stalking the Arabian man. The reason seemingly being that the Innocent wants to recruit Ghassan. Lawless: Absolutely not. They've already claimed that stud Joshua. They ain't taking Aqil too! Not if I have anything to say about it! Earnest makes his way down the ramp, eyes staring intently towards the ring before him as his music continues to play in the background. The large man then heads up the ring steps, walking across the apron and stepping inside the ring. He then makes his way towards the nearest corner of the ring, heading over and simply standing there. He continues to hold that almost lifeless look on his face, as he now awaits his opponent. He turns his attention slowly towards the entrance ramp, as his music fades out. Finkel: And introducing the opponent... There's a brief moment of silence, the crowd now buzzing slightly as they wonder exactly what to expect here. Soon enough, they find their answer. An unfamiliar tune pumps out of the Colvintron, the crowd now looking on in utter confusion. Earnest's eyes also widen slightly from the theme emitting through the Colvintron, not sure what to expect himself. Suddenly, a huge puff of smoke explodes out on the entrance ramp, as a figure slowly rises up from amongst it, bearing a huge grin. The man has dark brown skin, a set of long curly black hair, is sporting a set of gold sunglasses in the shape of an infinity symbol, and looks to have a very athletic physique, looking about six feet tall.He is clad in a deep purple tuxedo, a matching cape, and top hat, all decorated from top to bottom with various numbers in a rainbow of colors. He also clad in silver wrestling boots, an odd subtraction mark-shaped bow tie with two plus signs on each end and is carrying a walking stick with a giant solid gold number three protruding from the top of it. The man starts strutting down to the ring, twirling his walking stick at his side with ease as he does. He then stops in front of a lucky young lass in the crowd, quickly reaching up and yanking off his hat. He then reaches down inside, though pulling out nothing it seems. He gives an exaggerated look of surprise, as this woman just stares on. Suddenly however, the man reaches behind her ear, then quickly pulling out a small card! The crowd nearby looks on in awe and claps a bit, as the man grins and slides that card into her hand. From a glance, it seems to be his phone number. Finkel: From Magic City, weighing in at 213 pounds, The Mathemagician! Bailey: ... Well now. The Mathemagician ladies and gentlemen. Lawless: DAMN! He may have the worst name I've head since... the birth of professional wrestling, but he is one fine man of prestidigitation! The Mathemagician then resumes his journey to the ring, twirling his walking stick once more as he does. As he reaches the ring, he leaps atop the ring apron, followed soon by vaulting into the ring. He then tosses his walking stick up high, sending it twirling through the air, only to land safely back in his grip. He then holds it up before the crowd, then making it vanish it in his hands as he slowly pushes them together. He then spreads them apart once more, showing that indeed the walking stick has vanished! Earnest simply continues to watch from the corner, perhaps trying to figure out his opponent. The Mathemagician's theme finally starts to fade out, as he moonwalks over to the middle of the ring. Earnest soon follows himself. Bailey: This should definitely prove to be an... interesting encounter. The flashy and flamboyant... Mathemagician, versus the stoic and solemn Earnest. Lawless: Win or loss, at least I get to see this guy in action. Man, it's about time the competition presented us with a suitable competitor. The Mathemagician quickly sheds his cape, top hat, and sunglasses. He however decides to keep the tuxedo on. Soon enough, the bell sounds. The Mathemagician almost immediately starts unloading with a quick series of rapid fire jabs, nailing Earnest in the chest with them. The man doesn't even budge, barely affected at all it appears. The Mathemagician however doesn't give up, as he switches next to a rapid fire flurry of kicks, nailing his opponent all over with these, Earnest enduring these as well, though. The Mathemagician soon lets up in these as well, taking a quick moment to straighten his odd looking bow tie. He then quickly bounces off the ropes, then coming back with a sliding dropkick to the leg! Earnest grimaces slightly, dropping down to a knee, the Mathemagician quickly kipping up to his feet and sporting a cocky smirk. He then quickly starts to fire with another quick series of punches right to Earnest's facial features, who holds up an arm over it in defense. The man then quickly charges back towards the ropes, leaping up high, then spring boarding right back with a missile dropkick! Earnest rises back up just in time to meet it head on! He goes staggering back, but manages to keep his footing. Bailey: The Mathemagician is definitely showing off his non magical skills here, launching a flurry of offense on the mammoth Earnest. Too bad it doesn't seem to be doing much damage. Lawless: I think I'm gonna do a trick of my own and make that phone number he gave that woman disappear. Bailey: Don't even think about it. The Mathemagician quickly returns to his feet, now starting to look a bit frustrated. He brushes back his locks with a palm, then charges back over towards the opposite side of the ring, springing atop the ropes once more, then leaping back at Earnest once more with a second missile dropkick! Earnest however catches him in mid air this time, quickly swinging him back, then immediately driving him down hard with a vicious Mood Killer! The Mathemagician slams down hard into the mat, barely conscious at this point. Earnest however isn't done, as he immediately pulls him back up, swinging him behind his back as he pushes to his feet again, then powering him down with a SECOND Mood Killer! The Mathemagician hits the canvas even harder this time, now slumped over on the mat in a heap. Earnest holds him down for the pin. 1.....2.....3! Lawless: Nooooooooo! Bailey: Earnest has definitely had quite a change in motivation as of late. It definitely seems like he wants to prove himself to the Innocent. And unfortunately for him, the Mathemagician was just another bump in the road on his path to do so. Finkel: Here is your winner... Earnest! Apocalyptica's Ruska once again starts up on the Colvintron, Earnest pushing back up to his feet with ease, grasping slightly at his chin as he does so. He however manages to shake it off rather quickly, as he now eyes his fallen opponent now down on the canvas. The Mathemagician isn't even moving at this point, barely conscious if he is at all. The giant man of the Innocent slowly bends down, saying another quick prayer for the fallen Mathemagician, before rising back to his feet once more, swiftly exiting the ring. The crowd continues booing, as Earnest makes his way out of the WIG Sphere once more, leaving the battered Mathemagician in a heap inside the ring. Bailey: Earnest is a very determined man at this point. One has to think that until he has accomplished his goals, it may be best to stay out of his way, lest you be crushed at his feet. Lawless: I don't care. He's still nothing more than a big hulking fat ass loser in my eyes! I hope Aqil kicks his tubby arse! Meanwhile, we cut to the backstage, where we see Aqil Ghassan in his locker room watching on a monitor. He forms a bit of a disgusted look on his face, slowly shaking his head, before quickly shutting off the monitor. He then walks over to a nearby bench and takes a seat, resting an elbow in his lap as he begins to think about the message that may have been sent.
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TNT
Opener
Posts: 40
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Post by TNT on Mar 26, 2009 15:14:47 GMT -5
*We open on jail cell. But, it’s not in a jail. It’s in the basement of the W*I*Gsphere. In fact, there are several cells in the W*I*Gsphere’s basement. In one such cell are TNT and Damien Blood. TNT is wearing that black noseguard of his, a black shirt, black jeans, and black cowboy boots. Damien is wearing the wrestling attire he was wearing earlier: a blue full body suit, blue gloves, and blue boots with a red barb wire design on all of them. In the cell are two beds. Damien is laying down on one of them; TNT is sitting on the other. Suddenly, Tracy Jones, Nicole Michaels, and Talia Bell come around the corner and run over to the cell. The girls are wearing what they were wearing earlier: Hard Rock Café shirts, tan tight form fitting Capri pants, and black shoes.*
Tracy: There you are!
Nicole: What the hell were you thinking!?
Talia: What the hill ees thus place?
TNT: It’s the W*I*G jail. Apparently, our new co-generalissimo manager, Reynaldo Fernando Venezuela, has decided to place anyone who acts out into these cells.
Talia: Why?
TNT: I don’ know! He’s insane in da membrane! Like I give a crap. *gets up and walks over to the bars* So, where were you three?
Tracy: We were looking for you!
TNT: An’, you didn’t it find me!? Hell, I was out there in the ring, givin’ that Magnum a piece of my mind!
Tracy: Freakin’ security wouldn’t let us come out! They said we would just help you!
TNT: Well, you would have.
Tracy: Yeah, but that doesn’t give them the right to hold us back! I think one of them copped a feel.
Nicole: You always think that.
Tracy: Most of the time it’s true!
TNT: Ladies! Stop it! Just get me out of here! And, be quick! I wanna get out of here before the Midget Mariachi and Hawaiian Hoser do.
Talia: Um…they’re not here.
TNT: What!?
Talia: They weren’t un any of the cills. They must’ve been released.
TNT: SON OF A BITCH!!!! HOW IN THE HELL DID THEY GET RELEASED BEFORE ME AND DAMIEN!?
Nicole: Well, technically, you two did start all those fights.
TNT: So!? What is wrong with these new GMs!? Makin’ all these rules and usin’ “facts” and “logic” to make their decisions! The only facts and logic that I know is that I’m awesome!
*TNT walks back to the bed and sits down. Talia notices Damien on the other.*
Talia: Whet’s up wuth h’m?
TNT: I think he’s sleepin’.
Damien: *mumbling in his life* I’ll suck your blood. Oh yeah.
*Suddenly, a large security guard walks over to the cell.*
Security guard: Damien, TNT!
TNT: What do you want, fool?
Security guard: You can guys can go.
TNT: Thank you lord almighty!!!!
*The guard puts a key into the cell lock, turns it, and opens the door. TNT gets up off his bed and walks over to Damien. He shakes Damien to wake him up.*
TNT: Damien. Damien! DAMIEN!!!!
*Suddenly, Damien springs up, grabs TNT by the neck, and chokes him.*
Damien: DIE!!!! *suddenly realizes that’s he’s choking TNT* Oh shit! *lets go of TNT’s neck* I’m sorry.
*TNT falls back onto the bed, holding his throat and coughing. The girls enter the cell to check on TNT.*
Damien: Sorry man. Just something I learned from my uncle’s military school. Next time you need to wake me up, just kick me and jump back.
TNT: *in a gravely voice* I’ll be sure to remember that.
Damien: So…um…what are your girls doing here? Did they get thrown into this kangaroo jail?
Talia: No. They’re litteeng you go.
Damien: Great! *stands up* So, Toby, did you talk to the girls about what we talked about?
TNT: *in a less gravely voice* Um…no.
Talia: Whet are you two talking about?
TNT: Um…well…um…you see…Damien thought that…well…
Damien: *to TNT* God, you’re a baby! *to the girls* You aren’t going to be ringside at our match on March 29th!
Tracy, Nicole, and Talia: WHAT!?
Security Guard: Um, could you people have this conversation out of this cell? We need it right now.
*TNT, Tracy, Nicole, Talia, and Damien all exit the cell. Then, two more security guards come walking down the hall with Guillermo Miramontes in between them.*
Guillermo: How was I suppose to know that was the General’s wife!? She didn’t have a name tag that said who she was! Besides, she’s too hot for him!!!!
*Guillermo walks into the cell and leans on the bars. Then, the first security guard closes the door and locks it.*
TNT: Okay, where were we?
Tracy: We were talking about going to Chili’s.
TNT: Really!?
Tracy: No! We were talking about us not being at the match!
Talia: *gets into Damien’s face* Who un the hill do you think you are to till us thet we can’t be ringside for TNT at March 29th!?
Damien: Don’t get pissed at me! It was his idea! *points to TNT*
*The girls all look at TNT like they want to kill him.*
Guillermo: Uh-oh! You’re in trouble!
TNT: *to Guillermo* Shut up! *to the girls* Look ladies. I was thinking. After that promo in which I introduced Damien to the W*I*G audience, I realized the danger I put you lovely ladies in. I mean, sure you girls can take lickin’ and keep on tickin’! But, that Magnum and L. Rey! They’s crazy! I mean, who knows what those crazy motherhumper can do!?
Damien: I thought you said that you didn’t want Nicole down there so she won’t make out with Magnum.
TNT: Dude!? What the hell!? We’s partners!!!!
Damien: I don’t like lying.
TNT: What!? You just pretended to be a different wrestler!!!!
Damien: Okay, you got me. I do like to lie. I also like to bust people’s chops.
TNT: Well, aren’t you special!?
Nicole: Enough with him! We’re talking about us! Now, I told you that Magnum kissed me, that our kiss meant nothing, and that I ways loyal to you!
TNT: Yeah! You’re loyal…TODAY!!!! What about tomorrow!? Or the day after that!? Or the day after that!? There’s no guarantee that you’ll stay loyal to me. Unless…ya stay away from him.
Nicole: What!?
TNT: I done decided that you aren’t allowed to see Magnum anymore! Ya see, the more ya see him the more he can seduce ya! I’m not a fool! I know how seduction works! I done seduced practically all the women in the tri-state area!
Guillermo: Which tri-state area?
TNT: Arizona, New Mexico, California. Well, the southern half. I haven’t worked my way up north. Anyway! You how I done did it!? I kept workin’ on those girls over and over and over and over again! And, I got ‘em! Why!? Because persistence is the mother of all ways of gettin’ laid.
Guillermo: Good advice.
TNT: Thank you.
Nicole: What the hell does this have to do with anything!?
TNT: It has everything to do with everything! I know that Magnum. I done seen the look in his eyes! It’s the look of a predator lookin’ prey, and his prey is you *points to Nicole* baby! He wants you! He’s gotta have you! And, he ain’t gonna stop until he gets ya! But, I ain’t gonna let that happen! I gonna you and him as far apart as possible! That’s why you can’t come to my match at March 29th.
Tracy: What about me and Talia!? Nicole’s the one with the problem! Why do we have to banned from ringside!?
TNT: I need someone to look after her, to protect her. I need some to watch Nicole and make sure Magnum don’t bargin’ in like Rhett Butler goin’ after Scarlet O’Hara! So, that’s why you two *looking at Tracy and Talia* are gonna babysit her!
Tracy: What!?
Talia: Babysut!? We gotta be babysutters!?
Tracy: We’re grown women! Nicole’s a grown woman! We’re professional wrestlers!? Why the fuck do we gotta be babysitters!?
Nicole: I don’t need anyone babysitting me!
TNT: Really?
Nicole: Yes!!!!
TNT: Well, too bad! I have spoken! That’s the way it’s gonna be!
Nicole: Oh, you’re a jerk! *walks off*
Tracy: Yeah! What she said! *walks off*
Talia: Babysut!? I oughta kull ya! *walks off*
Damien: They didn’t take that well.
TNT: So!?
Damien: So, they might not obey you.
TNT: Oh, they’ll obey me! They always obey me! And, if they don’t, well…*long pause*
Damien: Well, what?
TNT: Um…*long pause*…somethin’ bad’s gonna happen!
Damien: Well, you better make sure they do obey you, or else!
TNT: Or else what!?
Damien: Or else I’ll make sure they obey…ME!
TNT: Hey, hey, hey! Let’s don’t go that far, okay?
Damien: Whatever. I’m gonna go get change.
*Damien walks off. TNT starts to walk off, but Guillermo stops him.*
Guillermo: Hey!
TNT: What!?
Guillermo: Can I have those girls numbers?
TNT: HELL NAW!!!! *walks off* Freakin’ motherhumper!
*Cut to commercial.*
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Post by Lana de la Croix on Mar 28, 2009 11:12:21 GMT -5
*In their locker room, Chaz Stone and Fannie Package are going over strategies for their matches at the upcoming show. Suddenly the door swings open and in storms Lana de la Croix—storming as much as her size six feet will allow, at any rate. She’s hardly what one would imagine as the face of righteous anger, but she’s trying. Her face is more pale than usual, her cornflower blue eyes glinting furiously.*
Chaz: *blink* Easy, lass…wha’s got you in such a tizzy, eh? Lana: Ah…you…Ah made a fool outta mahself, t’anks ta you! Chaz: Me? Wha’d Aye do?
*Fannie sits back to enjoy the show, wisely deciding not to come between her partner and the tiny Cajun girl who’s currently harping at him like a small, vengeful shrew.*
Lana: Oh, dat’s righ’! Go on an’ play innocent! Chaz: Who’s playin’? Aye go’ nae idea wha’s go’ ye so up in arms. Ye wanna tell me why ye’re spittin’ fire? Lana: Firs’ you go an’ make a match fo’ me wit’ou’ askin’, den you let me go an shoo’ mah mouth off abou’ it! Why didn’ you tell me it was ‘posed ta be a secret?? Chaz: *staring at her in mild confusion* Lass, wha’ in th’ ‘ell are ye ramblin’ abou’? I thogh’ ye’d gotten ovah my nae asking ye abou’ th’ match. An’ as fer the othah…wha’s this nonsense abou’ it bein’ a secre’? Lana: Ah so much as mention it an’ get tol’ fo’ mah trouble that Ah ruined some sor’ o’ surprise or some such! Why didn’ you tell me?? Chaz: *stands and puts a calming hand on her shoulder* Now lass--
*Lana will have none of his attempts at soothing and swats his arm away like an offending fly, glaring up at him with all the anger she can muster. Fannie still says nothing, loathe to end the entertainment early. Lana in a state is always an entertaining sight, provided that her anger is directed at someone other than Fannie herself. *
Lana: Now Ah’ve gone an’ ruined ever’t’ing thanks to you! Chaz: *sighs* Ye need ta calm down an’ listen ta me. Aye promise ye, Aye knew nothin’ abou’ it bein’ some big secre’. Ye have me word. Aye’d have tol’ ye if’n I knew. As it is, nothin’s so bad off that it cannae be fixed. Jus’ give th’ people a good match an’ no one will care tha’ they knew before’and that it’d be ye.
*Lana blinks and ponders his words. Chaz is many things, but she knows that he’s not a liar. Reluctantly she nods, and it becomes apparent that most of her anger was really frustration and embarrassment at her mistake. Chaz gives her a winning smile and then suddenly scoops her up and over his shoulder.*
Lana: Ack! What d’you t’ink yo’re doin’?? Put me down!! Chaz: Nope. Fannie, we’ll be in th’ gym. Aye wanna pu’ all this angry energy o’ hers ta good use.
*With that, Chaz carries a still-protesting Lana off with him, grinning like the Cheshire cat as she struggles to get out of his grip.*
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Post by The Hardcore Disciple on Mar 28, 2009 11:29:35 GMT -5
*Bagpipes give way to Alice Cooper's "School's out for Summer," and the crowd goes wild for Chaz Stone, replete with ludicrous swagger and bedecked in family kilt, fighting boots, bandanna, and a tight blue t-shirt with a white "!" on the front. With him as always are Fannie Package, dressed casually in a white sleevless top & a pair of ill-fitting jeans, and Lana de la Croix, looking particularly delicate in white stockings and a blue babydoll dress. Chaz and Fannie climb onto the apron and hold the ropes open for Lana as she slips into the ring. Chaz then swings his legs over the ropes while Fannie steps in.*
Tom: Welcome back, folks! You're just in time for the W*I*G Vindication debut of Stone's Quarry. Jeannie: I knew today was going to be a good day ever since I woke up on the wrong side of someone else's bed this morning! Tom: Erm, I...ah, forget it.
*Indeed, the scene is similar, though missing a plurality of chairs, to the first edition of Stone's Quarry. A neon-lamped desk clock now decorates the desk, along with a goofy-looking mini tiki idol, as well. The trio have a seat and Chaz pulls a microphone from a desk drawer.*
Chaz: Welcome, lads an' lasses, to anudder edition of Stone's Quarry! *cheering* In case ya hadna noticed, we 'ere in W*I*G are under new management. Aye've nae 'ad enny experience wit' either one, ye', but so long as neither tries to change me or what Aye do, Aye welcome our new co-general managers, Rick Astley an' General Castro! Fannie: Wait, Chaz, that's unfair. El Presidente has shown himself to be benevolent so far. Chaz: Ach, a wee bit o' bawlbustin' ne'ver hurt ennyone. Lana: *rolling her eyes* Be that as it may, we'd lahke ta t'ank dem fo' takin' Colvin's stead. Does make me wonder what he's doin' now... Fannie: Were I him, I'd be on vacation somewhere tropical. Chaz: An' speakin' o' tropical vacations, my guests fer this evenin' shoulda been th' White Boys, but they've fecked off to Kokomo or where'er, wit'ou' returnin' mah phone call. Dey been dere for a while now, hoggin' th' tag belts when dey shoulda been defendin' 'em. *crowd boos* An' dat's a shame, what wit' all th' talented tag teams runnin' amok. See 'ere...we've got th' Latin Lovas...*cheers* Lana: Maxx 'n' James bon Jovi...*crowd boos* Fannie: L. Rey and Magnum. *cheers* Lana: Some form o' TNT, I reckon... *boos* Chaz: An' las', but certainly nae leas', me an' my Colvin Cup partnah, Fannie Package!
*The fans cheer, but both women look at him, perplexed.*
Fannie: ...Come again? Chaz: If'n nobody's gonna challenge, we may as well. If ye rednecks 'ave e'en one set of baws 'twixt th' two've ye, ye'll face us wit' th' belts on th' line.
*The crowd cheers, waiting to hear "Sweet Home Alabama." Instead, they get "Shipping Up to Boston" by Dropkick Murphys. The hosts seem a bit confused when the irritated face of Coach Pat O'Hare pokes out from underneath the W*I*G-Screen. He is flanked on either side by Aidan Donnelly & Sean McCann. Fannie, Chaz & Lana all look to eachother wondering just what exactly is going on. O'Hare has a microphone in his hand as well. Team Ireland's music fades out & O'Hare holds the mic up to his mouth. The crowd, being used to the usual type of promos they hear from O'Hare are booing already. He pauses a moment, allowing them to finish their jeering before carrying on.*
O'Hare: *Ac~Hem!* If you'll let me speak for a moment...
*O'Hare's request is denied as the crowd continue with their effort to drown his voice out in a sea of boos. Undaunted, O'Hare tries to carry on.*
O'Hare: Now, just a wee second ago, I heard you there announce that you thought you were deserving of a Tag-Team title shot. Are you aware of the team that stands infront of you right now. Fannie: I'm aware that they lost to the King's Court a few months ago & haven't done a thing since.
*The crowd cheer, Aidan & Sean are clearly ripping. Aidan snatches the mic from O'Hare.*
Aidan: Whoa there, man... I mean, love...
*The crowd gives an "Ooooh" at Aidan's unsubtle & unoriginal dig at Fannie. Fannie merely rolls her eyes in a "heard-it-all-before-way".*
Aidan: We may have a single loss on our record since we came to W*I*G, but we are the longest reigning EWT Tag-Team Champions ever to defend the titles against more than just Raft-Shack. We came here to start with a clean slate, roysh, but, like, we can't seem to do it. Everyone dredges up our history as the greatest Tag-Team this decade. I said before, we became a bit too content to rest on past glories, but now we're going out & taking what we want. And what we want & deserve more than a pair of jacked-up nimrods is a shot at the W*I*G Tag-Team Titles! Chaz: Ye dun like ta talk abut yer pas' achievements? Yer nay helpin' yer case bah bringin' up yer title reign alla time, ye know. Dun get me wrong, ye wee lads are fun folk, but if'n it's a tag team shot ye want, ah hafta ask ye ta get in queue behin' us--single file, jes like in primaries. *Crowd chuckles* Tell ye what, though--Fannie an' I, we're fair folk. Ah personally ne'er had enny prollems lettin' someone cut in fron' o' me in line. In fac'-- Fannie: Chaz, you're not rescinding the challenge, are you? Chaz: Eh? Ach, lass, what gave ye that idea? It sure weren't me. If ye two wanna get ahead of us in line, ye have ta beat us first. March 29th, at W*I*G...March 29th, it'll be you versus us, winner takes the challenge, Whaddya say ta that? Ye gonna take us on, or are ye gonna show yer yella streaks?
*O'Hare snaps the microphone back from Aidan.*
O'Hare: You actually think that we'd be afraid of a challenge issued by a Scotsman & a Canadian? Sunshine, this'll be easier than Drico & the lads handing you your arses at the Six Nations a few weeks ago. And, just like your poncey rugby team, YOU WILL NEVER BEAT THE IRISH! Chaz: Dun get too ahead o' yerself, naw--dis is wrestlin', nay roogby. We'll see ye lot in de ring!
*The segment ends thusly, "School's Out" filling the air once more as the scene fades to black.*
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Post by Jawbreaker on Mar 28, 2009 12:24:01 GMT -5
-John Cena is shown in the backstage area with a pair of newcomers, two men that tower over him-
John Cena: I'm standing here with two of WIG's newest signee's. Victor Trauma and Tommy Fright. We've just heard from two teams that are in line for a Tag Team title shot. What are your thoughts on this?
-The man with the dark, long hair smirks a bit before beginning to speak-
Trauma: You know, we could stand here and we could tell you a lot of things. I could tell you how we're ass kickers and we're this and that. But instead..
-The taller bald fellow leans forward-
Fright: We'll just show you.
-The power houses walk off as the camera cuts to the ring-
Fink: Currently in the ring, weighing in at 457 pounds..Curt Hawkins and Zach Ryder!
-Hawkins and Ryder pose in the middle of the ring with Ryder "WOO-WOO-WOO"ing it up while Hawkins face palms-
Fink: And their opponents, at a combined weight of 550 pounds..the team of Victor Trauma and Tommy Fright!
-"All Hope Is Gone" by Slipknot begins to play and it seems appropriate for Hawkins and Ryder at the moment. The pair make a quick stomp to the ring, with Fright discarding his jacket and bandanna upon entering it. Hawkins and Ryder attempt to get the jump on their opponents before the bell rings-
Tom: So what do we know about the debuting tag team of Trauma and Fright?
Jeannie: Their big and I don't think Hawkins and Ryder have a prayer.
Tom: That's why they pay you the big bucks.
-Edge's former henchmen don't see their plan work as well as they hoped as the pair are knocked halfway across the ring. Zach stumbles to his feet and nearly has his head ripped off by a lariat from Trauma that folds him up in an uncomfortable looking position. Curt goes for a while swing which misses and leaves him easy fodder for Fright who obliterates him with a Cobra Clutch slam into a backbreaker-
Jeannie: Told ya!
Tom: This is not going to be pretty.
-Trauma grabs Ryder by the legs and Slingshots him right into a big boot from Fright that looks to have knocked him to another planet-
Tom: -winces- I was right.
Jeannie: I need to see one more brain cell killing one before I'm convinced.
-Fright yanks Hawkins off the mat with a face claw before hoisting him high in the air and smashing him right back down with a massive choke slam-
Jeannie: I think I'm going to tell them that you said terrible things about them during their debut.
Tom: What?!
-Fright makes the academic three count and the crowd responds favorably to the quick and brutal fashion in which the match occurred-
Fink: And your winners......Victor Trauma and Tommy Fright!
-Even though neither man realizes where they are, Trauma and Fright still shake the hands of the downed Hawkins and Ryder despite not being match of a challenge. They raise their fists to the crowd before leaving the ring almost as quickly as they came-
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Post by Paul's Boutique on Mar 28, 2009 15:55:43 GMT -5
*We open on a stage in a nightclub. It looks dirty and dungy and is filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, cologne, perfume, and sex. There is a large crowd of people in the club. On the stage is D.J., a black man wearing a Yankees cap, a DC hoodie, white T-shirt, black jeans, and white Nikes, standing behind a large turntable. In front of him are Johnny Ryall, in a black suit, white shirt, orange tie, and black loafers; Egg Man, in a leather coat, a shirt with a Punisher skull on it, blue jeans, and black Nikes; and the High Plains drifter, in a leather coat, white T-shirt, baggy black jeans, and black boots. They are standing behind three mic-stands with microphones on them, and they each have their hands in their pockets. Suddenly, the Beastie Boys’ “The Sounds Of Science” starts playing. The crowd applauds as the guys sway their bodies back and forth to the beat of the song. Then, the applause dies down, and the guys start rapping.* Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: Now here we go dropping science dropping it all over Like bumping around the town like when you're driving a Range Rover The Drifter: Expanding Johnny: the horizons The Drifter: and Egg Man: expanding the parameters The Drifter: Expanding the rhymes of sucker M.C. amateurs Johnny: Naugels, Egg Man: Isaac Newton The Drifter: Scientific Johnny: E. Egg Man: Z. Johnny: Ben Franklin with the kite getting over with the key Egg Man: Rock shocking the mic as many times times the times tables The Drifter: Rock well to tell dispel all of the old fables Johnny: I've been dropping the new science Egg Man: and kicking the new k-nowledge The Drifter: An M.C. to a degree that you can't get in college Johnny: The dregs Egg Man: of the earth Johnny: and the Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: eggs Johnny: that I eat I've got The Drifter: pegs through my Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: hands The Drifter: and one through my Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: feet Egg Man: Shea Stadium the Radium The Drifter: E M D squared Egg Man: Got kicked out of the Palladium Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: you think that I cared It's the sound of science The sound of science Science *Suddenly, a strobe light turns on. All three men move around like their doing some kind of tribal dance. The crowd cheers.* Egg Man: Rope-a-dope. *The DJ scratches the record.* Egg Man: The newest in new. Run-DMC (from the turntable): Right up to your face and dissed you. *The DJ scratches the record, again.* Egg Man: Waxin' and milkin' all of your square heads *The DJ scratches the record, again. Suddenly, the strobe light turns off. The guys stop dancing around, run up to the mics, pull them off the stands, and start jumping around. The crowd jumps up and down.* Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: Time and money for girls covered with honey You lie and aspire to be as cunning Reeling and rockin' and rollin' B size D cup Order the quarter deluxe why don't you wake up My mind is kinda flowin’ like an oil projector Had to get up to get the Jimmy protector Went berserk and worked and exploded She woke up in the morning and her face was coated Buddy you study the man on the mic Egg Man: D. The Drifter: do what you like Johnny: Drunk a skunk am I from the celebration To peep that freak unique penetration Egg Man: I figured out who makes the crack It's the suckers with the badges and the blue jackets Johnny: A professor of science cause I keep droppin' it I smell weak cause you keep poppin' it Egg Man: People always asking what's the phenomenon The Drifter: Yo what's up Egg Man: know what's going on The Drifter: No one really knows what I'm talking about Yeah that's right my name's Yauch *The DJ starts scratching again. As this goes on, the guys start breakdancing in unison. The crowd cheers loudly, impressed by their moves. After a few seconds, the DJ stops scratching; and the music starts playing again. The guys keep on breakdancing though. Then, they stop, kip up, and start jumping around and rapping again. The cheers die down.* Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: Ponce De Leon constantly on The fountain of youth not Robotron Peace is a word I've heard before Johnny: So move The Drifter: and move Egg Man: and move upon the dance floor The Drifter: I'm gonna die gonna die one day Cause I'm goin and goin and goin this way Egg Man: Not like a roach or a piece of toast The Drifter: I'm going out first class not going out coach Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: Rock my Adidas never rock Fila Jamaican voice (from the turntable): I do not sniff the coke I only smoke sinsemilla Johnny: With my nose Egg Man: I knows Johnny: and with my scopes Egg Man: I scope Johnny: What I live I write Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: and that is strictly rope I've got science for any occasion The Drifter: Postulating theorems formulating equations Johnny, Egg Man, and the Drifter: Cheech wizard in a snow blizzard Eating chicken gizzards with a girl named Lizzy The Drifter: Dropping science like when Galileo dropped the orange *The song stops, and the crowd cheers loudly. Then, we cut to Johnny Ryall, Egg Man, and the High Plains Drifter standing in front of the store from the last promo: Paul’s Boutique. Then, this voice over begins.* The best in men's clothing. Call Paul’s Boutique; ask for Janice. The number is ah (718) 498-1043 That's Paul’s Boutique, and they're in Brooklyn...
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Post by The Dancin' Johannsons! on Mar 30, 2009 2:11:57 GMT -5
(We go to Howard Finkel in the ring for our next match)
Finkel: The following contest is scheduled for one-fall with a 20-minute time limit!
(The music of Paul London hits and the former WWE sports entertainer charges down to the ring to a nice pop.)
Finkel: From Austin, Texas, weighing in at 205 lbs., PAUL LONDON!
(London climbs to the 2nd turnbuckle and does his signature backflip to the delight of the crowd. London settles in the corner awaiting his tag partner for tonight).
STAND BACK! THERE'S A HURRICANE COMING THROUGH!
(The music of The Hurricane hits and Gregory Helms comes out in his full Hurricane regalia. Hurricane high-fives fans as he makes his way to the ring).
Finkel: From Raleigh, North Carolina, weighing in at 191 lbs. THE HURRICANE!
(The Hurricane hops into the ring and does his Hurri-pose for the crowd before joining London in waiting for the Johannsons).
(Backstage.)
Spyke: Crash, we need to pick a song!
Crash: I don't see anything in the folder I like!
Spyke: Look in the techno section!
Crash: We already did like 7 times! There's nothing good in there!
Spyke: (to the audio guy) Is this all you have?
Audio guy: Unfortunately, it is. But, hey, you guys need to get to the ring. I'll cue something up reeeeeeeeeeeal nice for ya.
(We cut back to the arena and suddenly “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by WHAM! blares over the speakers. Spyke and Crash walk out from the curtain with a look of disdain for the music on their faces. Spyke and Crash take a few steps before they stop. They take a look at each other and shrug. They then begin to swing their arms and snap their fingers as they skip to the ring).
Finkel: And from Spring Break 2009 in Miami, by way of Stockholm, Sweden, weighing in at a combined 468 lbs. Spyke and Crash Johannson... TEAM! NAME! UNDECIDED!
(Spyke and Crash climb into the ring and continue their George Michael-esque dancing. The music eventually dies down and each team gets settled into their corners)
(Bell dings) Crash is starting things off against The Hurricane. They lock up. Hurricane spins Crash around into a hammerlock. Hurricane wrenches on it, but Crash counters with a snapmare. Hurricane goes down, but he's right back up. Another lock up. Crash spins Hurricane into a hammerlock this time. Hurricane tries to counter it into a snapmare, but Crash puts a stop to that and shoves him into the turnbuckles. Hurricane hits the turnbuckles chest first and stumbles back into a school boy roll-up by Crash.
1!
2!
Hurricane kicks out. Crash picks up Hurricane and lays into him with a few chops, continuing to work on the chest. Irish whip by Crash to Hurricane. Hurricane bounces off the ropes and into a brutal clothesline by Crash. Crash continues to work on the chest by laying into Hurricane with a few stomps. Crash backs off and readies an attack while waiting for Hurricane to get up. Hurricane gets up after a few moments, but immediately turns 180° and desperately leaps to tag in Paul London. London climbs in and dodges a clothesline by Crash. Crash turns around and is met by a superkick from London. London goes to continue the attack, but is tripped up by Crash. London rolls through though and is back on his feet. Kick to the midsection by London. London whips Crash into the ropes. Crash gets hit with a spinning calf kick by London. London leaps to the top rope. Flying body splash by London connects. London with the pin attempt.
1!
2!
Crash kicks out. Spyke is shown cheering on his brother. London lays into Crash with a few soccer-style kicks to the kidneys. London to the top again. Flying elbow drop to Crash connects. London to the top once more. He calls for the Shooting Star Press! He leaps off aaaaaand... nothing but canvas! Crash attempts a quick pin!
1!
2!
The pin is broken up by Hurricane! Spyke climbs in and tries to chase off Hurricane, but the ref stops him and tells him to go back to his corner. Meanwhile, behind the refs back, London and Hurricane double-team Crash, putting the boots to him. Hurricane and London force Crash into the corner. Hurricane climbs back out just as Spyke does and the ref turns around to put his focus back on the legal men. London tags Hurricane back in. London bulldogs Crash out of the corner and Hurricane leaps off the top turnbuckle with body splash. Hurricane with a pin.
1!
2!
3! NO!
Crash kicks out. Spyke claps and stomps getting the crowd to do so as well to try and cheer on Crash. Crash crawls slowly towards Spyke with one arm extended trying desperately to get the HOT TAG! Hurricane puts a stop to that, however, by grabbing Crash's ankle and dragging him away from Spyke's corner. Hurricane lifts Crash from the mat, or tries to anyway as when Crash gets to one knee, he hits Hurricane in the midsection with a forearm shot. With Hurricane doubled over, Crash finally gets the window he needs to get the OH SO GLORIOUS HOT TAG to Spyke! The crowd roars in approval as Spyke leaps in and begins to clean house. Clothesline to Hurricane sends him to the mat. Spyke rushes over to London and knocks him off the apron and to the floor outside the ring. Spyke turns his focus back to Hurricane, but London has landed on his feet! London trips up Spyke, which makes Spyke fall face-first to the mat. The ref manages to miss this somehow, but shoots a look to London. London makes a “I didn't touch him” gesture with his hands raised. The ref checks on Spyke. London turns and grabs a folding chair sitting next to the timekeeper. London turns back to the ring, looking to end this match on a DQ with the chair and get it over with, but a hooded fan has jumped the guardrail! London turns to the fan, and the fan... hits London with a roaring elbow? The fan drops the hood and it's Rachael Leigh Cook! RLC disappears back through the crowd. Back in the ring, Spyke and Hurricane are getting to their feet. Spyke lays into Hurricane with a couple of rights. Irish whip by Spyke. Hurricane comes back. Spyke ducks down and rolls up onto Hurricane's shoulders! Could he be looking to hit the SWEDE DT?! NO! Hurricane counters it! He flips Spyke off his shoulders! Spyke lands back on his feet! Hurricane tries a clothesline! Spyke ducks it! Both men turn around! Spyke hits Hurricane with a Stunner! Hurricane stays on his feet! Spyke ducks, rolls up onto Hurricane shoulders! SWEDE DT! London runs into the ring! Spear by Crash! London falls to the mat and rolls out to the floor! Exclamation point! Spyke with the pin!
1!
2!
3!
(bell dings, crowd pops)
Finkel: Your winners! Spyke and Crash Johannson, TEAM! NAME! UNDECIDED!
Spyke and Crash share a hug and celebrate their first win as a tag team since December of 2005. Spyke exits the ring and leaps into the crowd which in turn body surf him. Crash follows suit on the opposite side of the crowd. Hurricane is left laying in the ring while the ref checks on London on the outside. A wide shot shows Spyke and Crash being body surfed on each side of the crowd. We then fade to black on this shot. …or we fade to a chicken commercial or something, I don't know.
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Post by Jason Hereford on Mar 31, 2009 21:16:57 GMT -5
*The camera fades into the dimly lit corridor backstage, Jason Hereford leaning against the wall, one shoulder pressed against an alcove and his other arm at rest at his side. On his face is a smug grin.*
Hereford: Ladies and gentlemen…commoners of the world—and I mean that in the artsy, pretentious, metaphorical sense, not literally—it’s me, Jason Hereford. That’s right, your most hated hobo. That insufferable, ignominious vagabond who thinks he’s got the right to be telling other people his candid, logical opinion. For those of you in the audience who cannot define one of the words I already used—I’m just warning you now—you might want to go and take a piss or get a snack. What I’ll be speaking on today is far above your plane of intellect. That being said, it’s time for another episode of my patented “Spectrum of Morality,” where I examine the moral perspectives of various people and point out how disgracefully unenlightened they are. Instead of focusing on new people, thanks to a provocateur—and I’ll be speaking about you in due time, rest assured—I am going to continue my evaluation of our wonderful friends, Coltrane and Synthy Eris.
*A promotional package rolls over the screen, showing footage from the matches between Synthy and Coltrane at 28 Days Later, and March 29. It shows them hitting numerous moves on one another, and the brutality accompanying both of their encounters.*
Hereford: For the second time in a row, Coltrane has extended an opportunity for the snooty and exasperating Synthy Eris to wrestle against him. And once again, we have had the same basic outcome as before. If I can re-use some old footage from my previous episode…
*The camera cuts to a different set of clips.*
Hereford: And with true grace and humility…
Hereford: Bet you a nickel you can’t figure out what happens next!
*The camera fades back to Jason Hereford, a hand wrapped around his chin as he feigns a look of deep thought.*
Hereford: Wow! And once again, you are forced to partake in the consumption of your own words! Oh, but don’t worry. You’ll probably get a THIRD title match from our champion. In that regard, Alexander Coltrane; may I say this—you’re a total fool. Circumstance has been on your side and you have indeed defeated me before. I’ll admit that. I’m not going to be dishonest about that. You won. And I was rightfully pissed off as to why—but I quickly pulled myself together and realized that I had an accessible, logical contingency plan, unlike you. You keep launching gambits of little to no value, expecting them to pay you back later on, and every time you inch closer and closer to certain defeat. At March 29 it was your winning streak. Next time? You keep gambling away your title like you just did and you’re going to live out the rest of your career entering the ring to Simple Plan instead of Type O Negative. That’s why your score has remained a meager “1” as opposed to inching closer to “5.” Just absolutely irrational; which is a real shame because you actually do possess a rather impressive mind…
*Jason mockingly shakes his head, pushing himself off the alcove and facing the camera again.*
Hereford: Now, if I may backtrack to the “Wow, And once again…” part of what I just said, that brings me to the OTHER participant in our main event at March 29; the overweening, banal woman that we know best as Synthy Eris. As previously delineated, she was once again forced to appreciate the irony of what had taken place at the Pay Per View. Not only that, but now she has to date the LATIN LOVERS along with her sister. Could there be anyone worse for her to go out with? Besides me? I think not. If you take all of this in stride, then I’ll bring you down to “7” as opposed to “8.” And my, what an improvement that is! I still don’t like you, but you’re all the more difficult to actually hate. Not to mention you inch closer to being a truly respectable…or disrespectable…amoralist, something that I in particular REALLY can appreciate. Hmmm…now that I say that, you’re probably just gonna try to tune up that infernal Wagon of Morality that so many of you ride ever so high on. Pheh!
*Jason frowns, shaking his head in disapproval, before stopping himself midway. His eyes light up and he smiles again.*
Hereford: Oh! But that reminds me! I still haven’t mentioned our other “friend” who had some choice words for me…that “friend” being Juri Sadamoto. Congratulations on your victory, Juri. You took no bullshit and dealt with someone who was pissing you off. And you didn’t sugar coat it, either, playing it up like this was some crusade or how it was amazing fun. You did it to put something to rest—that very well needed it, might I add—and used a very wise strategy to GRIND HER MIND INTO THE DUST. Excuse me. I found that rather impressive, to say the least. You were never the brightest. Your rather inane rhetoric, like your confusing of “Immorality” and “Amorality” when talking about me was most jocular for me to listen to. You said I wanted to be like Cassinova…which I could easily have done if I wanted to, but I’d rather not be like anyone but myself. And no, he wasn’t innocent…but I’d hardly consider what he did to her to be torture. You don’t go out and maim a man cause he pissed you off. That’s the kind of thing that usually leads to gang violence and murder. Which, while not immoral, is stupid and unnecessary. And “same taste in women?”
*Jason's jaw drops, and he begins laughing in what sounds either mocking or totally forced.*
Hereford: Ha! Why on Earth would I find someone like you attractive…or vice versa? The mere thought of it is preposterous! But, I do want to acknowledge that, beyond your misconceptions and lack of intellectualism, you’re not exactly stupid either. You do have strategy on your side. Marius was no wise leader, putting the plebeians in control, but he was at least able to kick ass on the battlefield. Same basic deal with you, as you demonstrated at March 29. Although, there is one thing that I think—despite the false retort you thought you’d get—for your “worst way imaginable” to “fight for equality” argument? Riddle me this…would you like to be shocked beyond even the realm of disbelief? Yes? No? Can’t tell me because you’re not in the same room as me? Well…here ya go. I think you fight for your beliefs in the RIGHT WAY. You don’t go around destroying everything and blowing it off, trying to act high and mighty, or excusable for your actions…or anything like that. You do what you do, and that’s that. No morals involved! And that’s the “right way.” So, that being said…you get a…duh-duh-duh-dun…“6!” Out of the three people I’ve spoken on, you are easily the closest to reaching that enlightenment where “morality” always follows the prefix “a.” Unfortunately, you hang a bit out of balance. Mainly with the “my Syn” comment and trying to rise up to defend her. No need to be a mother hen, Juri. So, from one part-Celt to another part-Celt, you’re just a wee bit off, love.
*Jason looks over his shoulder, into the darkness behind him, and folds his arms.*
Hereford: Well, that’s all the time we have for today on my “Spectrum of Morality.” Remember to tune in next time, where I’ll rehash my usual acerbic drivel on one…two…maybe three other members of the W*I*G roster! So, in short…aw, what the hell? That’s a wrap, Aaron. I’m off to sleep now…
*Jason leans back against the wall, sitting down and pulling his knees up closely to his body. He leans his head over, a curtain of greasy hair obstructing the camera’s view of his face. Fade out.*
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Post by Damien Blood on Apr 1, 2009 21:30:27 GMT -5
*We open up on the catering area of the W*I*G-Sphere. Damien Blood is sitting at a table, eating some chicken spaghetti that he’s nearly done with. He’s wearing Punisher shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers. He takes a sip of the soda next to his plate and then takes another bite of his food. Suddenly, TNT walks up to him. He is wearing blue Western-style button and collar shirt, black jeans, and black cowboy boots.*
TNT: Hey, Damien.
Damien: Mr. Tucker! What can I do you for?
TNT: Well…ya see…we gots ourselves a little problem.
Damien: *takes a bite of his food and talks while chewing* Really? And just what would that be?
TNT: Well…I hate ta say it…but it’s…um…you.
Damien: *shallow* Moiré? Surely you jest!? *takes another bite of his food and chews*
TNT: Well, I’m afraid so. Ya see, I wasn’t aware of this at the time, but apparently ya did somethin’ that ya really shouldn’t have done.
Damien: *talks while chewing* And just what would that be?
TNT: Ya slapped my darlin’ Nicole.
*Damien swallows. Then, he scoops up the last of the chicken spaghetti, puts it in his mouth and chews. After a few seconds, he swallows. Then, Damien pulls a napkin from his lap and wipes his mouth. He throws the napkin down onto the plate and then takes a sip of soda. Then, Damien gets up and stands right in front of TNT.*
Damien: How good is your memory?
TNT: Whoa! We talkin’ about you, not my memory, buddy.
Damien: I’m not your buddy, friend.
TNT: Well! I’m not your friend, guy!
Damien: I’m not your guy, buddy!
TNT: Well, I’m not your…
Damien: STOP IT!!!! I’m not doing the South Park joke!!!!
TNT: Damn.
Damien: Where was I?
TNT: My memory.
Damien: Right. You see, I asked about your memory because I remember you saying that you didn’t want Nicole at ringside at our match on March 29th.
TNT: I said that. I rememba.
Damien: I believe you also said that you wanted your other girls, Tracy and Talia, to keep an eye on Nicole and keep her from coming down to the ring.
TNT: Look, I rememba what happened! You don’t need ta tell me what happened! Okay!
Damien: Then, somebody didn’t do their goddamn job! So I had to step in!
TNT: But, didja have to slap her?
Damien: Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
TNT: Dude! I love “Seven!” It was on last night!
Damien: I know. I watched it. Anyway, I told her to leave—but Nicole didn’t listen—so I slapped her. You know, if you had been a little more strict with her in the first place, then she wouldn’t have been down there and wouldn’t have cost us the match.
TNT: Hey! Let’s don’t go blamin’ it on her! It wasn’t Nicole’s fault!
Damien: So, it was yours?
TNT: AW HELL NAW!!!! It wasn’t my fault. It was yours.
Damien: WHAT!!!!?
TNT: Yes. Ya see, yer slap to Nicole pissed Magnum off and caused him ta attack ya. And, that kept ya from bein’ there when I got pinned by the Midget Mariachi. So…
Damien: You’re blaming our loss on me!? You’re the one who got pinned!!!! Your girl Nicole couldn’t keep her nose out of our business!!!! Your girls Tracy and Talia couldn’t keep Nicole from keeping her nose out of our business!!!! If you had had your shit together, we would have won!!!!
TNT: My shit togetha!? I keep my shit togetha! Do you keep your togetha!!!!?
Damien: Do you want to find out, bitch!!!!?
TNT: BITCH!!!!?
*TNT starts shaking. He raises his fist. Damien gets into a karate stance. Then, TNT starts taking deep breaths. He inhales and exhales loudly. He does this several times: inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales… After a while, TNT calms down. He stops shaking and lowers his fist. Damien stands back up straight.*
TNT: Look. Let’s don’t fight. Now, I’ll admit it—my girls screwed up. But, it wasn’t my fault. It’s never my fault. Got that!?
Damien: *sighs* Whatever.
TNT: Okay, look…I don’t have a lot of friends here. Fer some reason, people hate me! Can you believe that!?
Damien: *sarcastically* What!? No! Why could someone hate you!?
TNT: I know, right. Anyway, I needs some allies. Sure, I gots the girls; but I could use a little more muscle. And, I don’t wanna instigate anything betwixt us but…
*Suddenly, Damien grabs TNT by the throat and squeezes the life out of him. TNT coughs, wheezes, and struggles to get out of the hold.*
Damien: Look, you little shit!!!! I want you to get one thing clear—we’re not friends! We’re not really allies as a matter of fact! The only reason I agreed to partner with you was as a way to thank you for getting me a contract with W*I*G. Now, I understand why you wanted to bring me in—you don’t have a lot of friends and you needed a man to wrestle with you against Magnum and L. Rey because, let’s be honest, those girls are tough, but you felt they weren’t enough to handle those guys. And, I understand why you would want a male ally. But, I only partner up when it’s convenient to me. Now, I say this because right now, I could crush your trachea like that *snaps*. But, I don’t. You breathe because I allow you to breathe. And, I allow you to breathe because I’m gonna need a partner. You see, like you, I also have trouble making friends. However, since you have offered an olive branch and I have taken it, I will continue our little partnership. But, let’s get one thing clear—I am the one who is in control. You are my bitch. You do what I say when I say it. And, if you get out of line, I will crush your trachea. If your girls get out of line, again your trachea crushed! So, here is what is going to happen, you are going to go back to your girls and tell them to that they are to stand out of my way. If they don’t, they’re gonna get a slap. That will be strike one. Strike two will be a punch. Strike three…crushed trachea. That is what will happen from now on. Do you understand me!?
TNT: *wheezing* Yes!
Damien: Good.
*Damien lets go of TNT. He falls on his butt onto a table a few feet behind him. He coughs as he grabs his throat and rubs it.*
TNT: *in a gravely voice* I’m glad we talked.
Damien: Great. Now go.
*TNT runs off. Damien turns to the table, grabs his soda, and takes a sip. Then, he turns around to see James “Magnum” Constance right in his face. He is wearing a tan button and collar, blue jeans, and Doc Martin’s. He is starring daggers into Damien.*
Damien: What do you want?
Magnum: I came here because I knew TNT was going to come confront you. And, I knew he would chicken out because…well, that’s just who he is.
Damien: Oh, and you know people?
Magnum: Yeah, I know. I can look at a person and know what kind of person they are. Now, TNT, he’s easy to read, like a Little Golden Book. I knew he would chicken out if saw that he was in a fight he couldn’t win.
Damien: Well, what about me?
Magnum: You’re a sick, sadistic man. You don’t give a damn about anyone’s safety and well being.
Damien: I’m as easy to read as a Little Golden Book, aren’t I?
Magnum: Oh yeah.
Damien: Well, so are you? You’re the knight in shining armor. You just have to come running whenever you see a damsel in distress. But, you’re going to fail, because you’re not a sick, sadistic man.
Magnum: That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not a Little Golden Book. I’m Ulysses. I’m difficult to understand. I have many themes, symbols, and motifs. You need Cliff’s Notes to understand me. You see, yeah…I am the knight in shining armor. And, I might not be as sick and sadistic as you, but I can be. I am large—I contain multitudes. Sometimes, I’m happy. Sometimes, I’m sad. But, right now, I’m angry. I’m extremely angry. I want to rip your head off, and I have to use all my concentration to stop myself. Hell, *pulls out a thumbtack with some blood on it from his pocket* I’ve been stabbing myself with this thumbtack every time the urge to attack you gets too much.
Damien: Why would you do that?
Magnum: I’m saving up all the anger I have for you.
Damien: What for?
Magnum: I want a match. You and me at the next PPV.
Damien: Really? You really want to fight me again!? I beat you the last time we fought.
Magnum: Yeah, because your new bitchboy interfered. I’ve taken care of that.
Damien: What do you mean you’ve “taken care of that”? I haven’t even agreed to the match.
Magnum: I didn’t come here to ask for your permission. I came here to tell you that I wanted a match with. I also came here to tell you that I asked Jet Ripley what I wanted and that I got it. I also asked for a special stipulation—if anyone interferes in the match, not only will they be fired but also the party on whose behalf the interference was done. So, if TNT interferes for you, you and he will be fired.
Damien: That’s fine. I don’t need TNT to beat you. I can beat you easily, and I would have accepted this challenge if you had asked me first before going to management. However, this stipulation better apply to you as well.
Magnum: It does! You should listen.
Damien: I was just making sure. I’ve been told that I’m paranoid.
Magnum: Well, you shouldn’t be L. Rey gave me his word that he wouldn’t interfere in our match.
Damien: Well, he better.
Magnum: That’s all I have to say. Just thought I should let you know.
Damien: Well, I appreciate that.
*Magnum puts the thumbtack back into his pocket and stabs himself.*
Damien: Is that suppose to scare me? Is this whole “Ulysses” speech and spiel suppose to scare me!? Because, it isn’t! You don’t scare me, Magnum!!!!
Magnum: And, you don’t scare me.
*Magnum walks off. Damien watches him leave, taking finishing off his soda as he does. Then, he crushes the can in his hands. And, we fade to our next segment.*
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