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GIW TV 2-25-02; Fifth show by Mike Gilliland
Topic Started: Apr 12 2008, 12:53 PM (1,163 Views)
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[The credits for Good Times fade to black.. as darkness envelopes the screen for a few brief
moments. With that, a logo displaying "GIPA 68" comes on the channel blue on white.. a simple
yet effective diamond shape making the logo. A voiceover hits the air..]

V/O: You are watching Grand Isle Public Access.. channel Sixty-Eight. Coming up next.. watch
the hard-hitting action of Grand Isle's newest local company.. Grand Isle Wrestling!! Two hours
of jam-packed southern style wrestling at it's finest! Only here.. on channel Sixty-Eight!

[And with that the logo disappears.. and we fade to a small room, in which we see Bobby Joe
DeFay, sitting on a chair, with a book in his hands. DeFay wears a white wife beater, with
suspenders, his black slacks pressed cleanly. He slowly bends his wire brimmed, "Panama Jack"
style hat forward, as he chuckles slightly, looking down at the book in his hands. Slowly,
behind him, as the swaying light continues, side to side, we see the giant, Levitcus Nelson, as
he walks behind the chair, finally resting his hands on the back of the chair, as DeFay
chuckles yet again, finally stopping to open his mouth towards the camera.]

DeFay: Books...they got stories, and well hell, everybody's got a story they like to tell,
don't they? I mean, stories are what make the world go 'round. Children learn through
stories...they educate themselves, and gather an appreciachun for their history...

And everyone knows how much I love children...

[DeFay grins wildly.]

DeFay: So, as the story goes...big bad man, travels long, day and night to the new village, and
opens a path of destruction for all to see. He claims that this is what's in store for
everyone, if they choose not to bow at his knees. Then he grows arrogant, and cocky...as he
begins to take out his frustrations and angah, yearnin' for someone to listen to him...and then
it happens...

He slips...

His ego becomes too much...

His angah takes his body over...

[DeFay looks back over his shoulder.]

DeFay: And then he falls in a "blazing battle"...he gets consumed by what he fears the most...

Himself...

[DeFay suddenly stops, as the large hand of Nelson rests over his shoulder, as he looks into
the camera.]

Nelson: My hand around your throat, slowly gripping tighter and tighter...your body, lifelessly
hangin' in the air...and then the fiery fall to the depths of hell. How'd it feel McBaine? Did
it feel the way you envisioned I felt when the bat broke across the back of my skull? Did it
"piss you off" enough to actually put the toys away...and walk into death like the warrior you
claim to be?

Or will you continue to tell stories...

I'm not your grandchild, and I really don't give a damn McBaine, if you'd like to tell a story,
tell it to someone that finds the history of a twisted, spineless man interesting...

Because I sure as hell don't.

[Nelson slowly chuckles, darkly...eery-like.]

Nelson: Because McBaine...the only way this story ends...is with you, grabbing at the leg of
the giant you attempted to slay time and time again. You'll be given your pride in your own
hands, and your heart will be laying at your feet...because McBaine...

I'm not a scared child.

Your one eye doesn't make me afraid of the sacrifices you've made...nor does it prove to me of
how much of a "bad-ass" you are. All it does McBaine...?

Is make you look like a lost man...attempting to hide his inadequacies through the punishment
dealt to others...

And me?

[Nelson stops chuckling.]

Nelson: I've felt death in my hands McBaine...I've felt what it was like to drag the last
breath of a man out, and to see his eyes roll over...and back...forever. I've felt all the
guilt a man can feel for taking another man's life...

So taking yours won't make me feel bad McBaine...

[Nelson swats the light over DeFay's head, as DeFay laughs loudly, as Nelson grits his teeth.
as we fade to black.]

[The screen remains black.. as a guitar slowly strums in the background.. unfamiliar at first,
that is until it starts to hit it's opening riff.. it's got to be "Born On the Bayou" by
Credence Clearwater Revival. The camera then fades in to a dirty.. dreary.. and dark inside of
a building.. four big overhead lights directing itself towards a rather cheap but sturdy
looking wrestling ring.]

#Now, when I was just a little boy,#
#Standin' to my Daddy's knee,#
#My poppa said, "Son, don't let the man get you#
#Do what he done to me."#
#'Cause he'll get you,#
#'Cause he'll get you now, now.#

[The camera pans closer to ringside as we see a good number of fans standing at their foldout
chairs.. one hundred fifty strong.. moths swarm up at the lights in masses as we now pinpoint
our attention to ringside. A steel barricade surround the ring with about six feet of room
between ring and barricade.. extending off the northeast portion that hits a makeshift
portal/wall that will be used as the entranceway.]

#And I can remember the fourth of July,#
#Runnin' through the backwood, bare.#
#And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin',#
#Chasin' down a hoodoo there.#
#Chasin' down a hoodoo there.#

[At the southwest corner inside the barricade sits a table at ringside. This is the spot where
our two announcers will call tonight's action.. neither man at their seats for they are in the
ring as usual.. the fans starting to get a pretty decent murmur and various chants going..
ranging from "G-I-W! G-I-W!" to "Grand Isle! Grand Isle!".. yeah, the genius.]

#Born On The Bayou;#
#Born On The Bayou;#
#Born On The Bayou.#

[After taking a good look at the ring and it's surroundings.. we focus on the fans and what is
inside the open-top Sand Dollar Marina. Off to the far south wall of the marina lies a long
and dimly lit bar.. and yes, it is a full stocked Louisiana bar.. to ensure the rowdiest crowds
as possible of course!]

#Wish I was back on the Bayou.#
#Rollin' with some Cajun Queen.#
#Wishin' I were a fast freight train,#
#Just a chooglin' on down to New Orleans.#

[Then.. a cheap graphic comes up on your television.. showing up simply "Grand Isle Wrestling
02-25-02" in yellow.]

#Born On The Bayou;#
#Born On The Bayou;#
#Born On The Bayou.#

[The music fades away as the fans cheer quite madly.. as mad as one hundred fifty people can in
somewhat close quarters. The camera focuses straight on the two men in the ring.. one wearing
a cheap black suit and tie.. standing about 5'5" and weighing no more than one hundred and
forty pounds.. his short black hair combed forward neatly.. very professional looking. And the
other.. well.. he's about 6'3".. wiry and shady looking.. has long brown hair and a cheap grin.
He sports a brown sports jacket and jeans. These men must be the battery.. plus.. they have
microphones in hand.]

[The shorter and more professional looking of the two smiles cordially and then let's out an
excited holler.]

JR: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.. WELCOME TO GRAND ISLE WWWWWWRESTLING!!!!!


[MONSTER GRAND ISLE, LOUISIANA POP!!!]


JR: As usual.. I'm your host Jacob Rodgers [Pop!] and alongside me is my colleague Dirk
Davidson! [Hell Pop!]

[Davidson elicits even more boos as he does a mock masturbation gesture towards the fans..
then stopping and thrusting up the middle finger, all the while smiling a cheap grin.]

JR: Two weeks away.. we are just _two weeks away_ from Brawlin' on the Dock of the Bay [Pop!]..
but tonight.. we've got four monster contests.. culminating with a massive six man tag with
just about every big name in our company!

DD: Just about? It's got McBaine, Ryan Faith, and Bobby Ray Wilkins [Big Time Boo!!].. those
are the only stars in this company!

JR: [sighs] But beside our big six man tag.. we've got a double debut between two foreign
youngsters in Jake Cutler and Harisoto Mashima..

DD: A contrast in styles and attitudes from what I've read up on.. should be an interesting
match to say the least.

JR: And the-

DD: CLASSY!!

JR: That's right.. Kendrick Lane is then set to take on the good old family man in Robert
Kellan..

DD: Crack that whip!

JR: Kendrick Lane still putting up the goose egg in singles comp-

DD: He's building on that!

[The crowd boos at the constant Dirk Davidson interruptions as Rodgers just works through it.]

JR: The Television title is on the line once again.. as Dirk Davidson's favorite fat man, City
Jack, is set to defend his belt against Lucas McCall!

[Pop for CJ!]

DD: Favorite fat man?! Oh man Jake, that's low.. absolutely low, even for you! The fat man
_will_ lose tonight, I guarantee it!

JR: Guarantee?

DD: Well.. no.. but hey, whatever!

JR: And then our big main event.. a big six man tag.. on one side we have "Bad Eye" McBaine
[Boo!], Bobby Ray Wilkins [Boo!], and Ryan Faith [Boo!].. facing off against the team of
Leviticus Nelson [Pop!], Doyle Woodall [Pop!], and Russ Brady! [Pop!] Each man has a score to
settle with a man on the other side.. they all will collide in three big singles wars at
Brawlin'.. but tonight will decide which group will be going into our big show on the rise!

DD: Like you have any doubts? McBaine and crew all the way! [Boo!]

JR: I don't doubt the power of that team.. but if Russ Brady and Doyle Woodall seem half as
intense as what Nelson just seemed to be moments ago.. McBaine, Faith, and Wilkins will be in
for one very, very long night.

DD: Blah. Tonight is just going to be the precursor to the domination that will be exhibited
two weeks to this day..

JR: Quite possibly. But for now.. we've got word from the back to run footage, and that's what
we shall do!

[Open up to a shot of the beautiful Lydia Kellan, most likely waiting for her husband standing
around, instead from behind her walks up Lucas McCall, wearing a garb made of legends...well,
Goodwill Legends, but legends nonetheless, a cheap, 'New England Patriots, Super Bowl XXXVI
Champions' shirt, black jogging pants, shitkickers and a 'Bill Russell is my father' hat, he
smiles as he walks up, straightening his attire and speaking as he walks up.]

LM: [coming around to our side] Hello Lydia, you look ravishing today.

[Lucas does a small bow as Lydia smiles a bit.]

LK: Hello Lucas, how are you?

LM: I'm fine, thank you for asking, about to have a match coming up, for the television title,
I'm pretty excited.

LK: Oh, really? Wow, good luck.

[McCall smiles.]

LM: Don't worry, I'll be okay, sure it won't be a total buttkicking like your husband gave me
last week.

[Lydia frowns.]

LK: I'm sorry about that.

LM: No problem, well, I have to go, see ya' gorgeous, tell Robert I said hi.

[Lucas walks off and Lydia smiles, continuing to wait where she's at.. as we cut out.]

[Cut right back to the backstage area.]

[Lazy fade up to the interior of a make-shift locker room in the Sand Dollar Arena; a hopeless,
second-rate establishment compared to what many wrestling fans are accustom too. The stained
floors are empty, save a small table sparsely populated with food crumbs - GIW fine dining at
it's best. Standing beside the table is a single figure.

A dark, shrewd face like that of a Samurai Warrior. His psychotic demeanor is portrayed
greatly by his appearance starting with the hairless and stone-like physique. Thick, bulging
veins rip through his skin, creating a spider web-like appearance throughout his body. His
cutthroat persona is magnified by the solid black pupils and deep tan complexion that add to
artistic visage of the man known as Jake Cutler. The Razorblade.]

Jake Cutler (JC): [low] I guess this is where I am supposed to tell you how insignificant and
worthless the man they call Harisoto Mashima is. Or tell you why this Japanese man who is some
twenty pounds lighter then me will be unable to defuse me. And though the thought of turning
this into a pissing contest is intriguing, you are sadly not worth my time, Harisoto.

It is nothing personal, but as I take a look around the Sand Dollar Arena I can tell you that
you are not exactly the benchmark from which all other wrestlers are measured. I see
legendary, I see future stars, and icons. And then I see you, Harisoto. Call me spoiled, but
I am not really impressed.

[His words remain flat and dry.]

JC: You are just...[pause]...plain. You are not generic, just a composite, the sum of whatever
is stuck to you in your days of muddling through the wrestling world. If you were generic, you
would be a lot more smug and have a ridiculous nickname like "Bad Eye" or even worse, the "Lone
Star."

[He gives a rueful chuckle devoid of mirth, black eyes still fixated on the camera.]

And in the end, all I really have to say to you is...

"Wait!"

[Jake looks over to the new voice - male, of a higher timbre than Cutler's.]

"Don't turn the camera off yet, keep it rolling..."

[After a long pause, the Brazilian Assassin grunts his assent. The feed continues, and an
unknown woman steps into view. Slick, dark hair and eyes. Whip-thin. Appears to be just out
of college, a few years younger then Jake's late mid-twenty something. Her delicate face shines
with the exuberance of youth, though showing some tempering with worldly-wisdom. She tries to
look erudite, a bit too much. The dark jacket and slacks are fine, but she ought to lose the
red power-tie.]

JC: And you are?

"Chimera. Chimera Belle."

[The Razorblade offers stony silence, that this man feels obliged to fill.]

Chimera Belle (CB): And you are Jake Cutler. It's been hard to find you these last few months.
Lord knows I didn't expect to find you here in the states.

JC: I was not aware I was being sought. Sorry.

[Jake doesn't mean it; every inch of his inflection and posture is commandeered to send this
woman off in waves of chill disdain, but it just washes over an unsmiling Chimera without
visible effect.]

CB: I'll cut to the chase, Mr. Cutler. I'm here to offer my help and my services to you.

[This prompts a raised brow, so Chimera goes on.]

CB: I saw you two years ago in Brazil. You are clinically psychotic, Jake. Brilliant and
strong, but definitely psychotic. There are fundamental imbalances in you that affect the way
you perceive and interact with the world.

[Cutler's eyes narrow.]

CB: After taking a long look at some of your underground work in my off time I've found that
your psychosis is rather unique. Certainly you are not the only disturbed individual in your
profession, given an open forum to the public and allowed to grapple physically with other
men...but of all of them, I believe you have the strongest sense of balance.

Some of these fellows [grin] well the only thing separating them from serial killers and
unfortunates rotting in asylums is sheer happenstance. You, though, are aware of what's wrong
with you, and have spent a considerable amount of energy to keep it locked down. But there's
only so much strain you can handle, and your grip slackens every now and again. In normal
circumstances, I'd figure you've realized when this will happen, and shut yourself off until
the cycle passes.

But I wouldn't call the last couple years of your life "normal circumstances."

[No one likes to be verbally dissected, especially by a woman, and Jake is no exception. He
remains standing, though he has straightened up and turned his utmost attention to face Miss
Belle. A low and distant indignity underpins his voice now...]

JC: And you think you can help me. You believe that I have not already considered this and
resolved my issues before deigning to step foot in front of a camera. Believe me when I say
that I have had a long time to think about this, Ms. Belle. I am as functional as I am going to
get.

CB: What you are, is frightened to go back to Brazil. That's the strong control, Jake. You
recognize situations that will undo your hold on yourself, and steer to avoid them. You're
afraid -

[And Cutler's hand squeezes tight around Miss Belle's throat. Jake stands in a surge of motion,
lifting the smaller woman bodily from the ground.]

JC: [Roaring] Get out of my sight!

[He shoves forward, hard, bringing the woman down on the ground - on her back, gagging. There
is a spike of commotion in the room as several passersby look on in alarm. But Chimera Belle
just pushes herself from the floor, sitting up unsteadily. Her neck is blotchy red, and she
coughs a few times before speaking - still unsmiling, but not surprised.]

CB: [dusting herself off] I rest my case, Mr. Cutler.

[Jake stands and glares down at her, lupine teeth bared, breath seething as the camera fades
out.]

[Back to ringside.. where Rodgers and Davidson have situated themselves back at their normal
commentator spot.]

DD: Damn! Jake Cutler doing his best impersonation of Robert Kellan right there! HAHAHAHAHA!

JR: Oh, that's just wrong! Robert Kellan seems to be the consummate family man.. and I hope
Lydia can see through Lucas McCall's BS before it ruins their marriage.

DD: Lydia? Craven?

JR: Lydia Kellan!

DD: Phew. We dodged a bullet there.

JR: And talk about wrong, I don't pretend to know this Jake Cutler nor that women Chimera
whatever.. but you don't go pushing women around!

DD: You wanna tell Cutler that when he comes out here in a few moments?

JR: Well, no.

DD: Then shut your trap!

JR: [sighs] Fans.. let's now take you to some pre-recorded comments from Jake Cutler's opponent
this evening, Harisoto Mashima.

DD: It's a graveyard smash!

[Gulls call out to a man sitting on the edge of a weathering, grayed pier. His legs dangle over
the water, as commercial and recreational boats pass him by, occasionally waving in his
direction. He returns the greetings, smiling, a genuine, easy grin. Unlike most of those
milling about the Sand Dollar Marina this afternoon, this man is clad in street clothes instead
of beach garb. Jeans, some faded, torn sneakers, and an unremarkable white tee-shirt. Bright
blue filled almond crescent eyes, sparkling with the morning's sun over the water. When he
speaks, his voice is soft, contained of an odd inkling of a British accent, and his tone
amiable.]

Man : Grand Isle Wrestling. The new independent darling of North America. I feel privileged to
have been asked to join its ranks. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Mashima-san. Suicide
Dragon. You can call me Harisoto.

[He stands, dusting the rear of his jeans with his palms before shoving them deep into his
pockets. He is tall, and lean, but muscled. Handsome, but not pretty. Slowly, he takes off at a
walk down the length of the pier, towards the shore, with a flud gait and strong posture. The
camera follows his motion from the side, taking in the rising sun behind him.]

HM : I imagine that most of you watching this are curious to see what I have to say. You're
curious as to what sort of man I am, and how I'll fit into the GIW. You've heard of my arrival,
and you know the basic framework to who I am. You know that I'm Japanese and not much else.
What sort of man am I? I am like you. Most people attach a stigma to Japanese wrestlers. Some
view us as Junior fodder, and it's very rare we attain main event status in American
promotions. There seems to be something unappealing to the average fan, to the average
wrestler, about Puroresu. It's appreciated by some, but not seen as a compliment to the
American style. Yes, I am a Purodore. Yes, I am Japanese. Do I wear a Gi to the ring, do I
think a knee strike the most effective way to down an opponent? No. I'm not that far from you.
I'm a man with a dream, a man with broad culturing, and a man with violent tendencies. I think
that we, the GIW, its fans, and I, will get along just fine together.

[Hari has passed through the dock area, onto a narrow, even boulevard. Small cafes and
restaurants dot the landscape, done in classic bay architecture and mostly painted in robin's
egg blue, with odd cantaloupe accents across railings or gutters. People are passing by, some
stopping to mug for the camera on Mashima's far side, and one little girl to tug his pant leg
and ask for his autograph. The question seems to shock him, although whether it's the fact
someone would want his autograph or that someone knows of him to ask we'll never know. He
continues to speak as he scribbles on a small, torn shred of paper, the girl waiting patiently
before him.]

HM : What sort of man am I? I am like Bishamon, who protects the innocent from disease and
demons. Bishaman, god of happiness and war. Bishamon, clad in armor with a halo of fire, the
Wheel of Fate, above his brow. I am a well-adjusted man. I enjoy wrestling. I enjoy meeting and
overcoming both personal and professional challenges, and I revel in the acquaintances made as
I do so at the shoulders of men that have similar desires. Happiness. Here you go, duckling.

[He passes back the paper and pencil, scrubbing her hands in her hair. She giggles, and he
beams as she dashes off down a side path towards a graying, older lady with arms open. The girl
runs in and the lady hugs her tight, smiling and waving to Mashima over her shoulder. He waves,
continuing his stroll.]

HM : But Bishaman is also god of war. He is happy, but no so that he would allow you to sin
against him. To put it bluntly, don't f<BEEP> with me. Or that spinning ring of fire will swing
down over -your- head and seal your Fate. I imagine the comparison is clear, and I can stop
bludgeoning you, so to speak, with the metaphor.

[Harisoto's features darken, momentarily, but clear. The contrasting, however frequent, is
noticeable, and slightly unnerving.]

HM : This week, in the Pit, I face Jake Cutler. The "Razorblade". Jake, I'm glad to meet you.
Hopefully you and I will have a great match. I can't say I know you, or your work, at all, so I
don't know how the events between us will play out. I -can- say, however, that if you come into
our match with an honest sense of competition and a desire to please the fans that we can
attract, then I'll meet you half-way and do my best to be a challenge worthy of the time we'll
spend in the ring together. If you come into our match thinking you'll make a mockery of me, or
with any dishonorable intent, I'll see to it that each and every person that pays the price of
admission receives a rebate in the form of your blood soaking their shoes. I hope I've made
myself clear.

[The small scowl that had overtaken his features as Mashima spoke of Cutler disappears,
replaced with that same smile. He stops, turning to the camera.]

HM : Hello, GIW. I am the Mashima-san. And your Revolution has begun.

[With that, he turns and walks into the distance, once again leaving us with the sounds of
gulls crying.]

DD: Well.. at least he speaks English.

JR: Dirk!

DD: What?!

JR: If you don't have anything good to say d-

DD: Make something up. Exactly.

JR: [sighs] Harisoto Mashima, along with Jake Cutler, look to be fine additions to our already
quality roster.. so let's see if they are worth their own hype.. let's take it to Antonio
Hervez for the official introductions..

[Cut to Hervez, the baddest midget on the planet, who stands in the center of the ring.. cue
card in one hand.. and a bottle of Cuervo in the other!! Big pop!! Glassy-eyed.. he checks the
card.. putting the bottle down and then producing a microphone from his back pocket.]


AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our first contest is scheduled for one fall.. with a feefteen
meenute time leemit.. introducing first..


[It's at this time that the opening strains of "More Human Than Human" by White Zombie begins
to crawl through the speakers, filtering out over the P.A. system and kindling a small reaction
from the die-hard Jake Cutler fans that are becoming more like a cult then a cheering section.
The arena lights fade as the beat escalates, led by the trademark guitar riff by Rob Zombie
himself as the "Razorblade" steps lithely through the curtain.]

# I am the astro-creep #
# a demolition style hell American freak #
# I am the crawling dead #
# a phantom in a box shadow in your head #
# say acid suicide freedom of the blast #
# read the fucker lies #
# scratch off the broken skin #
# tear into my heart #
# make me do it again yeah #
# more human than human #

[The Brazilian Assassin steps forward, his head bowing down to the masses while beads of sweat
drip down from his glistening, hairless scalp. He's clad in a tattered black shirt, the
sleeveless ends grip onto his broad shoulders that reveal his defined, spider veined arms.
Tight gray shorts hug his dense quadriceps, stopping halfway between his waist and kneecap and
lined with a thin black stripe that spikes down into the word, "TAPOUT" on his rear side. A
black ensemble of knee, shin, and elbow pads decorate the respectful body parts while his hands
and feet are wrapped tightly in black tape.]


AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 256 pounds.. and he hails from Rio de
Janeiro.. here is..


"RAZORBLADE" JAKE CUTLER!!!!!!!!!


# I am the jigsaw man #
# I turn the world around with a skeleton hand say #
# I am electric head #
# a cannibal core #
# a television said #
# yeah #
# do not victimize #
# read the motherfucker-psychoholic lies #
# into a psychic war #
# I tear my soul apart and I eat it some more #
# more human than human #

[Finally Cutler tilts his head up, his black eyes now dead set on the ring ahead of him. The
Assassin lurks down the long the GIW aisle, effortlessly dragging his feet along the at times
blood stained walk way.]

# I am the ripper man #
# a locomotion mind #
# love American style #
# yeah I am the nexus one #
# I want more life #
# fucker I ain't done - yeah #
# more human than human #

[Finally the Brazilian native ascends the ring steps, raising one clenched fist into the air
before stepping over the middle rope. The fans, still in awe if not tantalized by the body
crippler himself, begin to show some sort of reaction as they boo the mighty warrior known as
Jake Cutler as the music fades out.]

DD: This guy.. just wow. Mean looking mofo!

JR: My thoughts exactly.


AH: And his opponent..


[ The opening baseline of hed p.e.'s "Swan Dive" sweeps over the public announce as the house
lights dim somewhat... ]

## I climb, hand over hand, closing my eyes... ##
## Too scared to look down. ##
## I climb, hand over hand, putting distance between I and the
ground... ##

[ The guitars kick in... ]

## I get to the top... ##
## I stand on the edge... ##
## I look to the sky... ##
## And say all my prayers... ##

[ The curtain is thrown back, allowing the Mashima-san room to walk the aisle. ]


AH: Hailing from Nippon, Japan...


[ The chorus washes over the arena as the Suicide Dragon approaches the ring, clad for battle
in black cords, rolled to expose gray Chuck Taylor Converse All-Stars, a canary yellow
tee-shirt sporting an image of a Chinese dragon with a shotgun to its temple, and a blackened
leather mask, open in the back, cut in precise rectangles to expose eyes and mouth. Blue eyes
cut a sharp contrast the the darkened hide, tranquil, almost dazed, as they stare out over the
throng.]

## What could be better than a... ##
## Swan dive into the asphalt? ##
## I don't know, nothing could be better than a... ##
## Swan dive into the asphalt. ##

[ The lights blink red, sorta, over the ring, once, as he mounts the steel steps, hands shoved
into the pockets of black cords, rolled into cuffs...]


AH: At a weight of two hundred and thirty pounds...


## You should ask somebody... ##
## 'Cause I've got nothing to lose tonight. ##
## I've misplaced my life tonight. ##
## Chased all my friends away tonight. ##

[ He passes between the ropes, slowly, entering the ring as the chorus hits again. Crossing the
ring, his hands, sporting spindly fingers, snake to the mask's straps, adjusting and tightening
to the point to nearly appear painful. ]


AH: That Hardcore Mutha' Truckin' Purodore...


[ Mashima mounts the turnbuckles, the lights, suddenly, cutting out completely, save those over
the ring, which again bathe the canvas in red. Blotches of dust and dirt over the hanging
light's lens cast long and opaque shadows, cutting into the seemingly thick column of crimson.]

## Tell me... ##


AH: He is...


## Who can control the flood? ##
## No one! ##


AH: HARISOTO MAAAASHIIIIIIIMAAAAA!


## Where are the angels? ##
## Nowhere. ##

[ Raising a fist, he holds his free hand over his throat, feigning a choke, saluting those
attendance and those watching around the world. ]

## Where's the honesty? ##
## Nowhere. ##
## Where's the compassion? ##
## Nowhere. ##

[ The music fades, the lights come up.]

DD: Hardcore mutha truckin'? Who does this Mashima guy think he is, Sebastian Bach?!

JR: And Cutler isn't waiting for the bell as he is going right after Mashima!


---------------------------------------------
Grand Isle Wrestling: Double Debut Opener!!

"Razorblade Jake Cutler vs. Harisoto Mashima

Written by: Ryan Duffy
---------------------------------------------


[DING DING DING!!]


DD: Aggressive, that's good.

[Cutler is able to quickly dump Mashima to the outside of the ring with a stiff overhand right.
Mashima drops down and rolls to the outside, but Cutler is right behind him.]

JR: Looks like we're going to have an early brawl in this one.

[Cutler and Mashima instantly start to brawl back and forth with overhand rights and lefts.
Cutler is able to get to the advantage for a moment and that's all he needs because he winds up
and hits a lariat right across Mashima's nose!]

JR: Big shot there by Cutler and down goes Mashima.

DD: Great shot there.

JR: Both men here are trying to make an impression with the fans of GIW. And I'm proud to say
that word has spread fast and we're getting more and more people..

DD: From five to six!

JR: Cutler is back to the attack here and he pulls Mashima back up to his feet here..Cutler
slips behind with waist-lock suplex, he lifts..






_CCCCCCRRRRRRAAAASHHH!_




[OH MY! POP FROM THE CROWD!]




JR: German Suplex and Mashima's head went crashing into the guardrailing! Cutler is trying to
take him out before his career can even get started.

DD: Not a bad strategy, not bad at all.

JR: Mashima trying to get back to his feet, but in a lot of obvious pain there holding the back
of his head. Cutler shaking off whatever is bothering him here, and he goes back at Mashima...

[Mashima is a little dazed, but Cutler is able to bring him back to his feet and quickly dumps
him into the ring. Cutler climbs up himself and is able to keep to the advantage with a quick
pair of right hands. Cutler with a big whip that sends Mashima into the ropes.]

JR: Cutler ducks down... but that might have been too eary! Mashima stops in his tracks and
_SLAMS_ Cutler face first into the mat! And now it's Mashima to the offense with a quick drop
kick to the side of Cutler's head.

DD: You know that Mashima in Japanese means hooker?

JR: No it doesn't.

DD: How do _you_ know?

[Cutler tries to get back to his feet, holding the side of his head in a lot of pain. Mashima
waits for him to get back up and hits him in the midsection with a lifting knee that just
doubles over Cutler.]

JR: Mashima is in control here against the equally sized Jake Cutler. Mashima hooks the front
face lock on Cutler and quickly lifts him up into the air... he's holding him high up there,
what strength!

DD: I've seen better stuff on the Iron Chef.




_SLLLLLLLLAMM!_





[POP FOR THE MOVE!]



JR: Brainbuster Suplex there by Mashima, and now he's going for the quick cover here..




ONE!






JR: Not even a two count on Cutler.

DD: That was more like a half a count, Cutler has a lot left.

[Mashima doesn't slow down, he quickly pulls Cutler back up to his feet and again locks him
with the front face lock. Cutler fights out of it with a quick shot to the ribs of Mashima, he
spins Mashima around lifts...







_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLAM!_







JR: Northern Lights Suplex by Cutler! He's holding for the pin.



ONE!





[But that's all Cutler can get, because now Mashima has managed to bridge out of the pin and he
starts to pull himself to his feet as well with Cutler! The crowd pops at this incredible
feat.]

JR: Incredible move there by Mashima, and now... now... Mashima's got Cutler in a double
underhook, I don't believe it!

DD: Redhead, second row... you think she digs me?

JR: Mashima leaps up...














_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAM!_










[BIG TIME MOVE POP!]









JR: Double Underhook into a facebuster!

DD: I think they call that a Ped-

JR: Mashima with the cover!






ONE!














TWO!
















THRE-



[So close, but yet so far pop!]

JR: Cutler is able to kick out at the last moment there!

DD: Eh, I never thought too much of that move either. It's going to take a lot more to pin
someone like Jake Cutler.

JR: This is the first time we've seen either man.

DD: I've got sources.

[Mashima is once again quick to follow up the near fall and now picks up Jake Cutler by his
head. Mashima hits a quick chop across Cutler's chest which echos through the Sand Dollar
Marina. Mashima again reaches up and again brings his hand down onto the chest of Jake
Cutler!]

JR: Powerful strikes by Mashima, and he's impressed me so far in this match.

DD: A midget with a boner would impress you.

JR: That's uncalled for.

[Mashima with a big whip and that sends Cutler flying into the far corner which splats him in
there pretty much.]

JR: Cutler's back just crashed up against that post.

DD: With the ring quality we have, I'm surprised it didn't break.

JR: Mashima from the farside, running start here! This could be huge! Mashima leaps towards
the corner...





_THHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUD_!













[Disappointment Pop!]





JR: Cutler moves out of the way and Mashima hits the corner post face first! Cutler was just
playing possum there!

DD: Mashima needs to stop acting like a Kamikaze Jet Pilot or he's gonna kill himself.

[But Cutler isn't done with just moving out of the way, oh no. Cutler from behind hooks to the
side of Mashima and lifts him backwards..













_TTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!_
















[THERE'S A LOUD HOLY SHIT POP!]














JR: BELLY TO BACK SUPLEX BY CUTLER AND HE DUMPED MASHIMA OVER THE TOP ROPE AND TO THE FLOOR
BELOW! CUTLER SENDS MASHIMA TUMBLING TO THE OUTSIDE! HE'S GOTTA BE SERIOUSLY HURT AFTER THAT
ONE!

DD: Wow, Jake Cutler is my new hero.

[Mashima is lucky he didn't get killed, but the man is moving... well, sorta. Cutler quickly
exits the ring and again goes right after Mashima.]

DD: This guy is smart, now that you've hurt the opponent time to strike at the right time...
and that is being when he's on the ground.

JR: Mashima _still_ trying to get back up to his feet after he took that tumble, great will
power by the Japan native. Cutler is just tapping him with his feet here, rubbing it in that
he's got the advantage. Uncalled for!

DD: Uncalled for? This is great stuff!

JR: Cutler now picking up Mashima..

DD: More like scraping him up off the ground.

JR: Cutler with a handful of hair and now he just slams him right into the guardrailing!

[Mashima is just a lump in Cutler's hands here, and now Cutler brings him near the entrance
aisle. Cutler with a whip and that sends Mashima back first into the ring apron! Mashima
stumbles out from the corner, Cutler is there and he hooks his arms around the waist of
Mashima..









_THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!_















[NICE MOVE POP!]





JR: OVER THE HEAD BELLY TO BELLY BY CUTLER!

DD: But don't talk to fast, Mashima is back to his feet already! He's actually shaking that
one off!

JR: Incredible will shown by Mashima here.

[Mashima is stumbling even more, but is able to take somewhat a charge at Jake Cutler... Cutler
picks him up and just thrusts him to the ground with a very nasty looking spinebuster onto the
floor!]

JR: Cutler is just standing over Mashima like he just killed him.

DD: A little taunting never hurt anyone.

[Cutler again goes to pick up Mashima, but this time Mashima is ready for him and quickly
counters with a low shot right to the kiwis!]

DD: RED APPLES! RED APPLES!

JR: That is going to leave a mark on Cutler, but now Mashima is back to his feet here.. he
locks his arm around the neck of Cutler... DDT! DDT ONTO THE FLOOR! Big counter there by
Mashima.

DD: Forget Cutler's skull, he's got other problems!

[Cutler holds his head in a lot of pain, but this doesn't stop Mashima from going right after
him again. Mashima scoops up Cutler and dumps him into the ring, Mashima opts to instead head
to the top rope rather then to head into the ring. Perched atop the ropes, he waits for Jake
to start to get back to his feet.]

JR: Looks like Mashima wants to fly here, and he's just waiting for Cutler to get back up to
his feet, Mashima turns around and flies...













_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAM!_







[GREAT MOVE POP!]





JR: Moonsault onto the standing Jake Cutler! Mashima took out Cutler with a top rope
moonsault!

DD: Not bad, but he needs to go for the cover here... Mashima isn't going for the pin.

JR: Mashima is back to this feet, and like Dirk said he isn't looking for the pin here. Cutler
is rolling up back to his feet, and Mashima just stands there waiting for him to get back up.

DD: You can see on Mashima's face that some of the shots he's taken tonight have already left a
couple of bruises.

JR: Both these men have fought very hard tonight. But now, Cutler is back up, Mashima charges
in...















_SMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMACK!_







[Alright, that fricken hurt pop!]







JR: Yakuza Kick to the side of head of Jake Cutler and that one _is_ going to leave a mark!

DD: Both of these guys have impressed me, I must admit.

JR: It doesn't look like Mashima is going to go for the cover here on Cutler. But it looks
like he's going to try and pull him back up to his feet... No! Punch to the midsection by
Cutler and he just took the advantage.

[The shot doubles over Mashima and now Cutler is able to fully get back to his feet. Cutler
locks up Mashima with a front face lock and quickly lifts him up into the air...




...Pop from the crowd!]

JR: NO! Mashima slips out of the suplex attempt and now Cutler turns around right into a
fireman's carry by Mashima! What could this be!?



[More poppage from the crowd!]



DD: Nothing! Cutler just slipped out of that one!

JR: And now Cutler is behind Mashima! He hooks on a Cobra Clutch! This could be it!
















_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAMMMMMM!_


















[OH GOOD GOD POP!]








JR: CUTLER TURNS THE COBRA CLUTCH INTO A COBRA CLUTCH SUPLEX! INCREDIBLE MOVE BY JAKE CUTLER
AND NOW HE BRIDGES FOR THE PIN HERE!




ONE!




















TWO!

























THREE!






[DING DING DING!]





JR: A great debut match by both men, but only one was able to pull it off tonight! I see great
things for the both of them here in GIW.

DD: The federation that smells like dead fish.

[The crowd boos as Cutler rises to his feet and slips out of the ring.. as Mashima sits up and
looks somewhat annoyed at the fact that he lost..]

JR: These two men will have a lot to show us here in GIW, I just know it.

DD: Yeah, Mashima could show us how to make a mean stir-fry.

JR: [sighs]

[The scene opens up backstage, the large figure of Robert Kellan taking a good portion of the
hallway as he walks down it, towards the entrance area. Dressed in his ring gear, Kellan wears
a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt and baseball cap, stretching his neck and looking at the floor, deep
in thought.

His thoughts are interrupted as he sees someone he probably didn't want to...Lucas McCall,
standing against a wall, drinking from a bottle of water. McCall sees him out of the corner of
his eye. A smirk, a turn, and the two are face to face, Kellan looming over the smaller man.]

LM: Rahbert.

RK: Lucas.

[They keep staring.]

LM: What can Ah do for ya Rahb?

RK: You know what you can do pal. You can stay away from my wife and kid like I told you to
last show. You been doing that Lucas. You been doing what I told you to do...or rather _not_
to do?

[Kellan inches in closer.]

LM: Shah Robaht, I've stayed away from that hot piece o' ass ya' call yah wife.

[McCall smirks a bit and drinks from the water.]

LM: Thah's no reason why I shouldn't, ya' know, gotta respect a man who kicked ya' ass, I
suppose...

[McCall shrugs.]

LM: Then again, I could be lyin' to ya', maybe you'll know fah suah one day.

[Kellan smiles...just smiles.]

RK: Yeah Lucas...you do gotta respect a man who kicked your ass. Once I get that respect,
things might just work out fine.

[Kellan turns to leave, pausing and turning his head.]

RK: Oh and Lucas. If you're lying...

...Well let's just say this dog's bite is a LOT worse then his bark.

[And we fade.]

DD: You know what he can bite?

JR: What?

DD: My as-

JR: Dirk!

DD: On c'mon, at least let me finish the beautiful set-up!

JR: No way. As you can see, Robert Kellan and Lucas McCall haven't been able to see eye to eye
since they both debuted on the 2nd.. and the bad tension continues to grow by the minute..

DD: Nobody like Robert Kellan.. nobody likes a bitch.

JR: You gonna call him that when he comes out here?

DD: Nope.

JR: Didn't think so.

DD: Don't we got a classy promo to watch or somethin'?

JR: [sighs] Yeah, let's go to some prerecorded comments from one Kendrick Lane.

[Scene: Who's that man with the tacky Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts coming our way? That
straw hat wearing, duffel bag carrying, CLASSY~!-looking gent in sandals carrying a fishing
pole over his shoulder? Well, heck, people, it's...Kendrick Lane! He spots the camera in
mid-strut, quickly dropping his bag and fishing pole. He quickly kicks his belongings aside and
places both hands on his hips, striking quite the heroic pose on the Marina dock.]

KL: After a one card layoff...

[He points both thumbs towards his chest.]

KL: I...

[And quickly switches over to a double index finger point. Talented, ain't he?]

KL: ...have...

[His eyes suddenly bulge and he bellows, striking a fist into the air.]

KL: ...RETURNED!!!!!!!!!

[He clutches his chest.]

KL: *AHEM* Sorry about that, fans...I'm just so darn excited about this! And yeeeeaaahhh...you
know you are too!

[Lane nods.]

KL: Uh huh...yeppers, I mean, you all must've seen those sad faces in the crowd. All those
people that missed me. All those fans that needed a little Lane to bring a sorely needed touch
o' class to the Marina! And last week, they were _DENIIIIIEEEEEED_ that right! Nooooooooo...
instead, they had to watch City Jack unfairly win another match! Noooooooo...they had to watch
that loser Jaime Roth lose *another* match a week after I out-*CLASSED* him on every level. But
fear not, Lane-iacs...

[Kendrick grins.]

KL: ...I'M BACK NOW!!!!!!!

[He pumps a fist and does a horrible rendition of the Temptation walk, walking out of the view
of the camera, before doing a REVERSE~! Temptation walk to get back into position.]

KL: But, isn't it typical that I have to fight some class-less jerk?

[Kendrick shakes his head sadly.]

KL: I mean, isn't it just _OBVIOUS_ this Kellan guy's a wifebeater? Heck, he probably kicks his
kid around, too.

[Lane frowns.]

KL: And that, folks...is definitely not classy at all. As a matter of fact, it makes me
downright...

[Kendrick tries to make one of those fearsome, hate-filled, "I'm serious" sort of looks.
Instead, he just clenches his teeth and opens his eyes really wide.]

KL: ...angry.

[He scowls. Well, that's an improvement.]

KL: Heck, I'm mildly annoyed, too. What sort of...[He rolls his eyes.] "father," brings his kid
and wife to matches?

[Lane sighs.]

KL: It's one thing to beat your wife and kid...it's another to force them to come to this place
to watch you receive a first-class beating courtesy of...

[He tilts his head upward and stares off into space, stroking his goatee.]

KL: ...ME!

[Lane sighs.]

KL: Hopefully, after I've given this deadbeat the pounding he deserves, his wife'll leave him.
And...and...marry someone who...uhhhhh...who doesn't use drugs!

[Kendrick nods enthusiastically. Drug use? Heck...that sounds good.]

KL: Yeah, that's right...he's a drug user too! Oooooooo...don't you just hate that Kellan guy,
now? Uh huh...he's a real lowlife, scumbag. Yep yep...he is!

[...]

KL: LIKE THAT FAT PUNK, CITY JACK!!!!!!!!!!

[...]

[...]

[...]

[Kendrick blinks, looking mildly surprised.]

KL: *Ahem*

[He smiles...a look of unstability in his eyes.]

KL: But for at least for one night, that poor lady won't have to suffer at the hands of her
abusive husband. For one night, her son will have a real role model to look up to. And for one
night, her husband will realize what it takes to be...

[Dramatic pause.]

KL: ...CLASSY~!

[Fade out.]

DD: CLA-CLA-CLA.. CLASSY!!!

JR: Good lord.

DD: Lane is gonna blast that wife and son beating Robert Kellan, you watch!

JR: Are you sure about that?

DD: JUE BETCHA!

[Pause.]

JR: Well, let's hear some comments from Robert K-

DD: Haven't we seen enough of this buttpirate for one show already?

JR: Nope.

[The scene opens up, GIW banner hanging in the background, the dull echo of fans drifting in
from the marina/arena. In the foreground stands one Robert Kellan. The handsome Kellan is
dressed in his full ring attire, a GIW T-shirt pulled over top and a Dallas Stars baseball cap
and short brown hair crowning his head. He stands facing the camera directly, a smile across
his face.]

RK: "Classy" Kendrick Lane. I don't know you. I have seen you compete. I've seen your stuff
here in Grand Isle...nothing more. Me? Well odds are like everyone else around here you're
too busy making sure it is 'me, me, me' and not really giving a care about the rest of the
place...especially us new guys.

[He pauses, his smile not disappearing.]

RK: But tonight, one more new guy get's noticed. Tonight, you _will_ get to know me, Lane.
Tonight, one more person will know I actually exist.

[Pause...broad smile.]

RK: Let's just hope you take your loss tonight with 'class'.

[And fade...]

DD: Thank the Lord he kept that one short. I almost ralphed on my Armani.

JR: That isn't an Armani!

DD: Fine, JC Pennies.. what do you want from me, we work in a shithole!

JR: And with the truth told.. let's head over to Antonio Hervez for the official
introductions..

[Cut to Hervez who is bottleless but quite more wobbly as he teeters in the ring.. card in one
hand, microphone in the other.]
If a wholly Great One rules, the people hardly know that he exists. Lesser men are loved and praised, still lesser ones are feared, still lesser ones are despised. How thoughtful one must be in what one says! The work done, business takes its course, and all people think: "We are free." - Lao Tzu

"Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." - Ronald Reagan

"The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government." - Thomas Jefferson
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AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest is scheduled for one fall.. with a feefteen meenute
time leemit.. introducing first..


[The crowd is quiet, the silence shattered as Seven Mary Three's "Cumbersome" hits over the
cracking PA system, everyone turning their attention towards the entrance way as the first
guitar notes hit.]

#She calls me Goliath, and I wear the David mask#
#I guess the stones are coming too fast for her now#
#You know I'd like to believe this nervousness will pass#
#All the stones that are thrown are building up a wall#
#I have become cumbersome to this world#
#I have become cumbersome to my girl#

[Bursting through the entrance curtain comes the large figure of Robert Kellan. A loud pop
rocks from one specific part of the audience, they, unlike most, knowing who this man is. A
smile creases his face and with a quick, energetic gait he makes his way down the aisle and
around the ring, full circle, exchanging high fives and pleasantries with anyone holding a hand
out. A quick hop up onto the apron and he raises his fist in salute one more time before
entering the ring and stretching in his corner, shedding both his GIW T-shirt and his baseball
cap.]


AH: Ladies and gentlemen, from Beaumont, Texas, weighing in at 273lbs....


ROBERT KELLAN!!


[Kellan is a large, thickly built, young man. Only in his mid/late twenties, he sports a
babyface, usually clean shaven, and short cropped, spiked brown hair to go with green-ish eyes.
Kellan is quite muscular, obviously a hard worker, with heavily chorded arms and neck, wide
shoulders and a thick back. Attractive in a rugged way, Kellan is often a hit with the
ladies...well more then often, something his wife doesn't really like, but hey, she goes home
with him so she can't complain.

In the ring Kellan wears either a pair of dark blue wrestling shorts with a silver star on the
back of them. He also wears silver knee pads, black boots and heavily tapes his hands and
wrist in white tape. He continues to stretch as Hervez continues intros.]


AH: And his opponent..


[A voice rings over the PA system...]

Voice: "CLA...CLA...CLA...CLASSY~!"

[And with that, "Lowrider" by WAR begins to play as we see "CLASSY~!" Kendrick Lane slowly
strutting his way out from behind the curtains. He's wearing a feathered fedora hat along with
a sleeveless red sequined robe over his wrestling attire. Bobbing his head to the beat of the
song in a completely unrhythmic sort of way, he begins to shake his shoulders and points his
fingers furiously as the trumpets blare, grooving towards the ring in a bizarre and foolish
looking sort of strut. The crowd begins to boo, because...hell, he looks like a damned fool.]

#Take a little trip...#
#Take a little trip...#
#Take a little trip with meeeee...#

[As if he didn't look stupid enough already, Lane stops in front of the ring apron to sing
along with his own theme music. With each chorus, he points to a section of the crowd...whom
begin to throw bottles and such at him. He pulls off his robe and hands it to the ringside
attendant, whips off his hat, and leaps onto the ring apron, where he...strikes a pose. He
steps through the ring ropes and struts around the ring some more, snapping his fingers to
the beat as the song mercifully...ends.]


AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 258 pounds.. and he hails from Syracuse,
New York.. here is..


"CLASSY~!" KENDRICK LANE!!!!!!!!


[Big time heel pop as he smiles a cheap grin before locking his eyes on Robert Kellan who looks
none to pleased with Lane's entrance.]

JR: Kellan has certainly had his problems since arriving here in GIW. Namely, that being with
McCall, who went after his family.

DD: All these new guys annoy me. That's why I like to side with someone like Kendrick Lane...
because we already know that he's _classy_!


-------------------------------------------
Grand Isle Wrestling: Singles Match!!

"Classy~!" Kendrick Lane vs. Robert Kellan

Written By: Ryan Duffy
-------------------------------------------


[DING DING DING]


JR: Well there's the bell and we are underway.

[Lane and the much larger Kellan circle around each other for a moment, Lane charges in a hits
Kellan with a right hand, but Kellan just shakes it off! Kellan counters with a shot of his
own which rocks Lane backwards, Kellan follows in with a couple more of shots and Kellan winds
up and goes for the haymaker...]

JR: No! Kendrick Lane drops down and rolls out of the ring before Kellan is able to connect and
now Lane looks like he doesn't want to fight.

DD: Can you blame him? Kellan isn't classy.

[Just then Lane starts to shoot his mouth out in Kellan's direction, he yells out a couple of
things and then says the magic word, and that's "Wifebeater!" and Kellan comes flying out of
the ring and the chase is on.]

JR: That really pissed off Kellan and now he's going to try to get his hands on Kendrick Lane.

DD: Just like he chases down his wife, I bet.

JR: What was that Dirk?

DD: Nothing.

[Lane slides back into the ring and Kellan is quick to follow, which leads to Lane getting the
advantage as he quickly drops an elbow across Kellan's back! Lane is back up and again drops
the elbow..]

DD: Now that's classy.

JR: Lane with two quick elbow drops, and now he leaps up into the air... No! Kellan rolls out
of the way of the third elbow drop, and now the two men get back to their at the same time.

DD: I must say, Kellan _does_ look like someone who'd.. you know.

JR: Don't start it Dirk.

DD: Or you're going to hit me!? I knew it about you too!

[Kellan rocks Lane back into the corner with a quick series of punches, just then Lane covers
himself in a lot of fear and screams out "Stop Hitting Me Daddy!" which causes just about
everyone in the arena to stop what they are doing.]

JR: Huh?

DD: Kick to the knee by Lane! Classy counter there..

JR: Lane with the cheap shot and now he's got Kellan backing up in the ring holding that knee.
Lane drops down and _clips_ the knee!

[The crowd boos that cheap shot right there.]

DD: These fans just don't know who they are booing!

JR: A very cheap shotting Kendrick Lane.

DD: Classy, not cheap.

[Lane follows up the knee clip by pulling that leg of Kellan over to the ropes and puts the leg
down across the bottom rope. He looks out over to the crowd, who respond negatively to him,
and then jumps up and down onto the knee of Kellan!]

JR: Lane really going to work on that knee of Kellan...

DD: Aren't you going to say what a great strategy that is? Or how about how taking out the
knee grounds the much bigger Kellan?

JR: You just said it.

DD: Oh really now?

JR: ...

DD: Classy!

[Again, Lane starts to yell "Wifebeater" into the direction of the big Texan. He again goes to
put the leg of Kellan back onto the ropes, but this time Kellan uses his strength to shove Lane
to the corner.]

JR: Kellan fights out of that one, and now he's getting back to his feet here. Lane seemingly
a little stunned from knocking the back of his head against the corner turnbuckle.

DD: Aren't you going to say how cheap that push off was?

JR: Why would I do that?

DD: Because... because... it was!

JR: And with that said, Kellan is back up to his feet here... Lane charges in at him... Whoa!
Kellan with a gorilla press on Lane! He's got him high over head...









_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAM!_






[Crowd pop for the show of strength there!]




JR: And Kellan just drops Lane behind him, Lane hit the mat face first there not able to break
any of his fall on that one.

DD: You think Kellan does that to his kids?

JR: Dirk!

DD: What?

[Lane tries to get back to his feet, but Kellan is right there waiting for him and quickly is
able to get Lane into the double underhook position... he lifts...










_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM!_










[Crowd pop for the cool move!]




JR: DOUBLE UNDERHOOK SUPLEX AND KENDRICK LANE MEETS THE MAT THE HARD WAY!

DD: Not Good.

JR: Lane is back up, but I don't think that's the best plan as he once again runs into the big
Texan, Robert Kellan once again.. front waist lock, Kellan lifts Lane up...










_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAMMMMMM!_









[Another big pop from the GIW crowd!]









JR: OVERHEAD BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX AND LANE IS IN A TON OF PAIN RIGHT NOW! KELLAN WITH THE
COVER, THIS MIGHT BE IT!






ONE!






















TWO!















THRE-



[Dammit pop!]



DD: No! Thank God! Classy prevails!

JR: Kendrick Lane able to kick out at the last moment there, Lane doesn't seem to be doing all
the taunting now.. Kellan is taking him to the cleaners.

DD: When Kellan gets on a roll like this at home... watch out trailer park.

JR: Dirk! Stop it!

[Kellan picks up Lane, but Lane goes low with a shot to the jewels and Kellan stumbles forward
and Lane pretty much scoots behind him. The crowd has nothing but sympathy for Kellan.]

JR: Kendrick Lane goes low, but what do you expect from Lane, really?

DD: A great match with lots of Cl...

JR: Don't say it.

DD: I'm trying to do my job here, Jakey.

JR: Lane now in the three-point stance, what's he thinking here!? Kellan turning around and
Lane waiting for him...

DD: Not _all_ Texans have played football. Some are gay.

[Lane charges at Kellan has he turns around, instead of going at the shoulders of Kellan, Lane
drops low and undercuts him at the knee! Kellan falls forward over him, and Lane scoots around
again.]

DD: Great move!

JR: Lane again into that three point stance.. Kellan back up to his feet again, and he's really
favoring that leg, Lane charges in and _again_ connects with the undercut at the knee!

DD: Rapid fire classy!

[Kellan again falls forward over Lane and once again Lane scoots around down in the three point
stance waiting for Kellan to get back up to his feet! The crowd is really letting Lane have
it.]

JR: A third shot could take Kellan out here for good... this are some cheap shots folks.

DD: Cheap!? This is a strategy.

JR: Lane into that stance and Kellan is back up to his feet... Lane charges in for the third
time... NO! Kellan leap frogs over it and Lane drives his shoulder right into the turnbuckle!

[Kellan spins around and quickly kicks Lane right upside the ass! The crowd pops for this
move. Lane is planted more or less between the middle and bottom turnbuckle and this gives
Kellan the opportunity to apply a rear waist lock and quickly lift up Lane...








_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM!_







JR: OH MY! RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX AND KELLAN COULD HAVE BROKEN LANE IN HALF THERE!

DD: Another beating by Kellan!

JR: Lane is rolling back to his feet, but he's not in a good way in there... Kellan hooks the
arm... suplex? No! Swinging neckbreaker and down goes Lane again! Kellan hooks the leg now,
here's the cover...




ONE!


















TWO!















THRE-





[Son of a bitch pop!]



JR: And Lane kicks out at two and a half!

DD: Where's the credit!? Where!?

JR: I'll give Lane some credit there.

DD: Good.

[Kellan seems a little frustrated there, but he doesn't complain to the ref at all, and simply
goes back to work by picking up Lane again, with almost a full ring ahead of him, Kellan throws
Lane into the corner and follows in...





_THUUUUUUUUUUD!_




JR: Lane leap frogs over the charging in Kellan and the big Texan hit the turnbuckle chest
first there! Lane spins around Kellan, he picks him up with a bearhug...








_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAM!_









[Eh, we'll give you a pop for that CLASSY~! move!]

JR: Spinebuster by Kendrick Lane! But no cover by Lane here... what the hell is he doing now!?

[Lane looks down over Kellan and now hits the ropes right near him, but he doesn't do a move,
instead Kendrick Lane cartwheels... yes, cartwheels over the body of Robert Kellan and finishes
it off by holding his arms out for the entire crowd to see. They of course don't like it and
boo loudly.]

DD: Wow, that was great! Lane with the cartwheel taunt.. only a truly Classy man can do that.

JR: That might have been the dumbest thing I've ever seen.

[Lane continues to taunt the crowd, but he doesn't seem to notice that Kellan is up behind
him...]

JR: Kellan shoves Lane right into the turnbuckle! Lane bounces off here... Kellan off the
ropes next to him...












_SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAMMMMM!_











[HUGE POP FROM THE CROWD!]









JR: LONE STAR LARIAT AND THAT MIGHT HAVE TAKEN KENDRICK LANE'S HEAD OFF IF IT WASN'T SO FAR UP
HIS OWN ASS! KELLAN WITH THE PIN HERE...





ONE!














TWO!















THREE!









[CONFUSED POP!]












DD: NO! NO! NO! NO PIN! NO PIN!

JR: Kendrick Lane somehow got his foot on the ropes, and yes, even in GIW that breaks up the
count!

[Eli Francois holds up two fingers in the air, and folks, we still have a match going on here.]

JR: Both men are winded here, and are taking a good amount of time to get back to their feet.

DD: Beating his wife has never been such hard work for Kellan.

JR: Alright that's it Dirk! The man does _not_ hit is wife!

[Kellan, Lane, both men struggle back to their feet... both men are tired, and breathing very
heavy. Kellan is back up first, probably because he got the last big shot in, but Lane isn't
too far behind him as he holds his throat in _a lot_ of pain.]

JR: Kellan takes a big swing at Lane, no! Lane is able to duck under it! Lane with a sleeper
hold!

DD: Great move! He's now gotta just hold onto that and Kellan is a goner!

[Lane has Da Sleeper~! hooked on really tight as Kellan struggles to try and get out of it. As
we all know...]

JR: Kellan's struggling is only going to make it worse here. Lane really has that in tight..

DD: Kellan's wife should pay attention to this..

[Just then we see that Kendrick Lane is talking right into the ear of Robert Kellan, and you
can make it out that he's repeating "Wifebeater... wifebeater... wifebeater!" over and over
again!]

JR: Very uncalled for there by Lane... and the crowd doesn't really enjoy that either.

DD: Who said we had smart fans?

JR: Kellan is losing it here, and now referee Eli Francois is in checking on Robert Kellan...

[Francois lifts up the arm of Robert Kellan high into the air...





...and it falls!





Francois again picks up the arm and lifts it into the air...





...and it falls again! Francois holds up two fingers.]



DD: One more and it's all she wrote here...

JR: I think we all know that Dirk.

[Francois picks up the arm for the third time...














..MEGA POP FROM THE CROWD!]




JR: NO! KELLAN'S NOT DONE YET! BACK ELBOW, ANOTHER BACK ELBOW AND NOW KELLAN REVERSES THE
SLEEPER... WITH A SLEEPER HOLD OF HIS OWN!!



[THE CROWD GOES WILD FOR THIS AS LANE FLAILS HIS ARMS ALL OVER!]


DD: Wait! Look!

JR: Oh not him!

[Just then everyone turns to see Lucas McCall flying towards the ring. Kellan quickly lets go
of the sleeper hold, and Lane falls to one side... McCall doesn't come into the ring, but
Kellan acts as if he is going to go outside and go after him.]

JR: Lucas McCall has _no_ business out here at all!

DD: Yes he does... he doesn't like Robert Kellan.

JR: That's not a reason to be out here now.

DD: It's as good of a reason as any.

[McCall backs off and Kellan continues to jaw and exchange words with him. Kellan however
doesn't notice that Kendrick Lane is up behind him.]

JR: Lane's got something in his hands!

DD: I don't see it!














_THHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!_










[HUGE HEEL POP FROM THE CROWD!]



JR: Lane just nailed Kellan with something! And now he covers for the pin...





ONE!






















TWO!





















THREE!





[DING DING DING!]




DD: YES! YES! YES!

JR: Kendrick Lane gets the pin, but not without help from Lucas McCall and...

[Just then we get a close up of Kendrick Lane showing the entire crowd that he does in fact
have a pair of brass knuckles in his hand! He's not hiding it at all, in fact, he's pretty
damn proud of it... the crowd hates very much so.]

JR: Kendrick Lane used a pair of brass knuckles here to defeated Robert Kellan! That son of
a...

DD: One Classy Mo'Fo!

JR: That's absolutely disheartening, Robert Kellan had that contest in his grasp, but thanks to
Lucas McCall and a pair of brass knuckles.. Kellan gets jipped, horrible.

DD: Sheeit happens.

JR: Whatever. As we wait for that smug punk Kendrick Lane to leave the ring, let's get some
prerecorded comments from Lucas McCall..

DD: Awesome! Right after we saw him in action!

JR: [sighs]

[Fade into a shot of the Sand Dollar Marina, outside of it actually, sitting against one of the
many rails in front of the 'beautiful' building is Lucas McCall, one of GIW's latest signings.
His attire tonight is a Super Bowl XXXVI New England Patriots 'Super Bowl Champions' shirt,
black jogging pants and shitkickers. A 'Bill Russell is my father' hat covers up his jet black
hair as he speaks in a heavily tainted Boston accent.]

LM: Damn, it stinks heah...

[Lucas tries to take in a deep breath but begins coughing uncontrollably, a little far fetched
I'm sure but hey, gotta do what ya' gotta do.]

LM: So now I get ta' face City Jack...

[Lucas looks around.]

LM: All I know is he's a fat bastahd, so I guess that bodes well fah me. Let me tell you guys
a stoahy.

[Christ, sounds like a baby trying to speak. Sentence fragments rule. Lucas wobbles a bit on
the railing, probably from a little too much of grandpa's old cough medicine but I digress.]

LM: Ya' heah these sob tales 'bout ol' boys havin' ta' shoot thah favahite dog and shit just
'cause pappy was drillin' him in the ass too much. My stoahy is a little diffeahnt.

[McCall balances himself again and speaks.]

LM: Growin' up in Southie, I had 12 brothas and sistahs, Mahk, Mahty, James, Penny, Meg, Chris,
Lahry, Cahl, Jack, Julie, Chahles, and little Sue....The focus of this stoahy is on Jack,
ironicahlly, now me bein' the oldest ah had to take cahe of the problems sometimes. Little
Jack was a fat bastahd, much like ya'self, really, the kid was obese. He'd eat all of ah food,
didn't cahe who else was hungrah, the bastahd just wanted it all to himself.

[McCall stops for emphasis.]

LM: So one day, daddy and I caught little Jack with his hand in the cookie jah, cream-fillin'
coverin' his pudgy face, and nothin' we could do 'bout it...Then my daddy nods to me and hands
me a gun, tellin' me to do this fah the family. Wulp, I took the pudgy bastahd out to the lawn
but couldn't mustah up the strength to whack 'em. So, I knocked him upside the head with the
gun a few times and rolled him into a ditch. Luckily for him I destroyed the part of his brain
that told him to 'eat like a fackin' pig' and he wound up making witty movies like Good Will
Hunting and Dogma undah the alias o' Matt Damon.

[Thumbs up.]

LM: So, we can do this the easy way, Jack. I can bitchbeat you and take ya' title oah I can
rip ya' balls off, staple them to ya' foahead so you have somethin' hahty to chase aftah, thus
makin' you lose those love handles and bitchtits but subsequently dyin'....Which would ya'
prefah?

[Lucas weighs the options with his hands.]

LM: Eitah way, ya' in fah an asskickin', tubs. See ya', bitch.

[Fade out.]

DD: We can only hope he teaches that fat bitch City Jack a lesson or two.

JR: Nobody has been able to derail the train that is City Jack to date, who knows though.

DD: He'll be derailed tonight!

JR: Odds?

DD: Lemme call my bo-

JR: Stop.

DD: Damnit.

JR: Well, since we are on the topic.. let's see what City Jack had to say earlier today.

[Shot comes to the outside of one of the Grand Isle's eating establishments. Out in front of
the restaurant's window, where the outside tables are, sits GIW's Television champion... in
fact, it's only champion, City Jack! Jack's there, his TV title on the table with a big, full
plate of hot & spicy wings all ready to be eaten right next to it.

Ah, but fear not! Jack's hands haven't dipped into the spicy sweetness of the chicken wings.
No, his hands & his bib is all clean. However, his glass of beer is almost empty - just some
foam laying at the bottom. But as Jack gives a nod & wink to the camera, a waitress comes by
with a new pitcher for the rotund one.]

CJ: Ah, mighty fine there, thank ya.

[Jack turns to give an equal nod to the waitress... and stares a second too long as she walks
off. Jack returns with a smile on his face, though.]

CJ: Ah, it's a nice thing being down here, that is somethin' for sure. Good food, good drinks,
good people... this place done got everything a man could think of. These wings themselves,
they look fine I should say. How they taste? Oh I know, I had these things for a prematch the
other time around. Can't say I had 'em all, though!

[Jack laughs a bit.]

CJ: Naw, I was out there in that crowd before the show started, telling some good ol' stories
from my home Kentucky. Didn't there keep track of the people around me pullin' out my wings
from the bucket as I was talking. So I only got to taste about five or six of these beautes.
I'll tell ya... Mmmm, they are something!

[Jack goes to dig in, but stops with a coy look.]

CJ: Ah, but why dirty up my hands and give you all a bad looking display. Sure, you done see me
eat before, but these little monsters give me a mess in the hands, I'll say.

[Jack refills his beer and then takes a swig.]

CJ: Now, I guess you all figure what's on my mind this week. Well, can't say much. Been just
sittin' back, watching the sun go down - sometimes see it go up if I'm up extra early for my
daily jog.

[Jack gives a wide smile as he pats his gut.]

CJ: Been watching some of them Olympics, especially those stone throwing fellas on that ice
with the big bull's eye. Now that's there one winter sport I could go out for. These big
hamhocks of mine would probably knock them there stones out off that ice all the way, that's
for sure.

[Jack nods... good thing he knows what he's talking about.]

CJ: But I'm sure you all been watching too, so no need to be talking about it. No, no, guess
you want some ideas of this McCall character, right? Well, I'll tell ya... I know just about as
much as you all do about him. Never heard of the guy, never saw him backstage on yonder before
that even two weeks past. How the guy got a shot at this here title of mine, I'll never know.

[Jack strokes his bearded chin.]

CJ: To say how he is, what he is, what he does, what he thinks, and on and all I surely can't
speak a word of. All I know? That this here ol' sob's going go down to that Marina, get in the
ring, and just knock up and down whoever it is that's standing in the center of it. Happens to
be a guy named McCall, all the better, right?

[City Jack laughs to himself.]

CJ: Ha, sure better well be him or I'd have some big'un problems than just a title defense,
that's for sure. I will say, though, that if he is getting a shot at my Tel-e-vision title,
than he damn well must deserve it. Like all the others before this McCall guy, they've all
brought the fight to me. Now, sure, none of them could bring this here sob down to the mat for
three seconds straight, but that doesn't say one word about their toughness.

[Jack wipes away from his sweaty brow... maybe the wings are already getting to him.]

CJ: Whooee, I'll say that again! That Tar-an-tella fella was one tough on-comer. I just can
only hope this McCall doesn't do them flips and flies all over the place cause that... Whoo,
that just gets me winded like none other!

[Jack shakes his head, not wanting to relive that state of tiredness again.]

CJ: Ah, boy, I just can't wait to get back into that ring again. Hell, put one two or three
more matches right after this McCall guy. I can say I'm feeling extra fit right now. 'Course,
after I'm done with these wings, I'll try to get back to ya on that idea.

[Jack smiles again.]

CJ: But you all GIW fans, better make sure you come down to the show this weekend and have
yourself one good ol' time watching this guy, City Jack, take on that mystery man Lucas McCall
for my TV Title. Hell, I'll even bring some wings for ya too. You can have some too there,
Dandyson. Sure you them wings, right?

[Jack continues to smile as he holds up a dripping wing. City then chomp down sloppily on the
wing before the shot mercifully fades out.]

DD: what in the blue hell is that fat bastard rambling about?! GODDAMN I HATE CITY JACK!

JR: Heh, he sure does get under your skin, no doubting that.

DD: Why does these morons like him? Oh wait.. he's fat and stupid.. they must love their own
kind!

JR: Cute, real cute. As much as I'd like to elaborate on this subject.. it seems we must cut
to the back again..

DD: Now what?

[Once again backstage we go, Kellan taking up the frame, his body drenched in sweat, his face
flush with exhaustion. Leaning in a corner, one hand against a wall, he holds an ice pack to
the back of his neck, spitting into a garbage can. Looking quite worse for the wear, he sighs,
a grunt of pain escaping his lips.

Lydia, looking on with come concern, tries to break the ice with small talk.]

LK: Well Robert...I talked to Lucas McCall today. Yeah, he told may to say
hi to you. Nice guy that Lucas.

[Robert, in a fit of no selling, turns his face etched with seering anger.]

RK: You talked to who?

LK: Lucas McCall..he says hi. Why...what's wrong Rob?

[In a flash, Kellan leaves the room, sprinting, almost ripping the doors off his hinges as he
does, screaming a primal scream down the hallway as he..and the scene disappears.]

LK: LUUUUCAAAASSSSS~!

[Fade...]

DD: Hah! Lucas McCall is so damn crafty!

JR: Speaking of Lucas McCall.. let's go over to Antonio Hervez for our official introductions..

[Cue to a staggering badly Antonio Hervez who gets a big pop from the crowd.. Antonio rights
himself.. and speaks..]


AH: Our next contest is scheduled for one fall.. and it is for the GIW TELEVISION TITLE
[Pop!]!! Introducing first..


['Protect Ya' Neck' by the Wu-Tang Clan plays through the Sand Dollar Marina and out from the
back walks Lucas McCall, decked out in his 'New England Patriots, Super Bowl XXXVI Champions'
shirt, a 'Bill Russell Is My Father' hat, black jogging pants and shitkickers he looks prepared
for something...He walks to the ring swiftly and slides underneath the bottom rope, leaning
back in the corner awaiting sir eats a lot.]


AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 237 pounds.. and he hails from Boston,
Massachusetts.. here is..


LUCAS MCCALL!!!!!!!


[Big heel pop as he continues to await the fat man.]


AH: And his opponent.. he weighs in tonight at a healthy 309 pounds.. and hails from Liberty,
Kentucky.. and he is your GIW TELEVISION CHAMPION! [Pop!!] Here is..


CITY JACK!!!!!!


["Classical Gas" from the late, great Chet Atkins plays as the fans hit their feet for the GIW
Television Champion, City Jack. CJ's wearing a "Cisco's Cajun Cantina" T-shirt that just fits
over his belly along with his usual wrestling singlet. Hmm, guess Jack's shilling for the local
pub, eh? Anyway, City Jack holds up his TV title for the crowd, who cheers in response. As he
gets to & in the ring, he shakes the ropes for a bit before going into a pre-match jig.]


-----------------------------------------------
Grand Isle Wrestling: Television Title Match!!

Lucas McCall vs. City Jack [c]

Written By: Jimmy Tits
-----------------------------------------------


[Suddenly, as City Jack appeases the fans with some of his jivin', McCall takes the opportunity
to nail Jack in the back of the head with a forearm smash! Heel pop!]

DD: There ya go, McCall!

JR: What a dishonorable man that is, attacking City Jack from behind! And now, Lucas McCall, a
newcomer to GIW, is stomping away at Jack!

DD: Oh, please! This is McCall's biggest match -- he's gonna do whatever it takes to go over
Fat Bastard over there.

JR: Now, City Jack is slowly, but surely, getting back to his feet...McCall is still hammering
away with those piston-like right hands.

DD: Hell yeah -- those south Bostoners are tough mofos.

JR: ...

[McCall attempts to Irish whip City Jack into the ropes, however, Jack reverses it; McCall
rebounds towards Jack, attempting a clothesline, but Jack ducks it; McCall comes back again
and...]


"THWWWWWWAAAAAACKKKKK!"



[POP!]

DD: DAMMIT!

JR: METROPILL! Jack just plastered Lucas McCall with the Metropill and now, McCall takes a
breather on the outside to rethink his gameplan!

DD: You damn right he is, Rodgers. See, McCall's smart like that. And what?!

JR: Perhaps you should keep your mouth shut from now on, Dirk...

DD: Don't Jue tempt me, boy.

JR: Oh, I'm sure he won't.

[RIMSHOT~!

Anyway, during the banter, City Jack does some celebratory jivin' for the fans 'cause he's cool
like that. Just then, however, he stops as he notices McCall climbing up onto the apron. As
Jack goes in to pull him back inside the ring, McCall pokes his eyes to a rather ample heel
pop.]

JR: My, McCall is certainly getting on the bad side of the fans with his blatant cheating
here...

DD: Psh, Lucas doesn't give a crap. Then again, neither does Old Man Francois -- but he's
blind, so...

JR: McCall hooks City Jack by the head and --

[Heel pop!]

JR: OH MY! McCall just brung the big man down throat-first across the top rope! What a
devious maneuver!

DD: Well, at least we'll never have to suffer through another City Jack promo again...

JR: You're sick.

[McCall goes back inside the ring, sets the heel of his shitkickers on Jack's forehead --
sympathy pop!]

JR: Ooh! Bootscrape, courtesy of Lucas McCall!

DD: Go, Lucas!

JR: And...he's going to cover Jack after _that_ move?!

DD: Well, yeah. The bootscrape is almighty~!

[Eli Francois quickly gets in position to count the nonchalant cover of McCall...


ONE!














TWO!











TH-- KICKOUT! POP!]


JR: And City Jack kicks out!

DD: Dammit! Francois, you slow bastard!

[Immediately, McCall gets all up into Francois's face about the count, letting his temper
flare. Francois simply makes a backing-off motion with his hands, trying to avoid a
confrontation. Seems to work, as McCall grabs City Jack and begins choking him on the ropes
instead. Heel pop!]

JR: Goddammit, stop this, Francois!

DD: Shh!

[As the crowd voices their disapproval over McCall's tactics, Francois grabs McCall by the arm
and manages to shake him off of Jack. McCall threatens to bitchslap Francois, but the threat's
empty.]

JR: What a bully this Lucas McCall is; something tells me he's going to get his from City Jack
later on in this match, believe me...

DD: Man, McCall's a punk. He breaks the rules. He's a friggin' bastard. I like 'im.

JR: Not in "that way," I hope.

DD: ...shut up, bitch. Aren't you the one who always gives City Jack a verbal [BLEEP]job
everytime he wrestles?

JR: Erm, in any event, McCall pulls the larger City Jack into the center of the ring, and now,
he's unmercifully unleashing those right hands into the head of Jack!

DD: C'mon, Lucas! Let's see that Deballer!

[The fans come to life as Jack manages to counterattack with a punch to the gut!]

JR: Jack's making a comeback! [pop!] And again, with another shot to the ample gut of Lucas
McCall!

DD: Ample gut?! Lucas's gut is like Kate Moss's stomach compared to Jack's!

JR: I won't even comment on that one...

[Unfortunately for Jack, McCall kicks him right in the gonads. Heel pop!]

JR: BLATANT LOW BLOW! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!

DD: Yeah, I can, actually. But hey, it was good for Jack.

JR: How so?!

DD: Well, now he knows he's got testicles down there.

JR: I'm surprised nobody's killed you yet.

[The crowd continues booing as McCall bounces himself off the ropes and strikes Jack -- who is
on his knees -- with a running forearm to the face.]

JR: What a shot by the devious McCall, who is know coming off the ropes again for a second
try...but Jack stands up and _nails_ McCall with an atomic drop!

[Pop!]

DD: Argh! Low blow, ref! Low blow!

JR: McCall writhing in pain now...and Jack clotheslines him over the top rope onto the floor!

[Another huge pop for City Jack! Jacks shakes his head at McCall right before following him to
the outside of the ring -- of course, that bodes trouble for the Boston native.]

JR: Uh-oh...

DD: Haha. Jack's in for a beatdown! McCall's just reeling him in...yeah!

JR: Any other rationalizations you'd care to make right now?

DD: Um, shut up!

[On the outside, McCall attempts to clothesline Jack yet again, but he misses; Jack hooks
McCall in a bearhug, then crushes McCall back-first into the steel ringpost! Brutality pop!]

DD: Jesus, Lucas...don't take the rope-a-dope _that_ far; I've got money riding on you!

JR: Hmm, you're getting a bit too predictable, Dirk.

DD: Hey, that's me -- deal with it!

JR: At any rate, Jack goes back a few steps and --


"THWOCK!"


DD: Hah! Dumb bastard missed! He just tried to avalanche McCall in the corner, but my bawh
just ducked outta the way!

JR: Jack's in a world of trouble here...and here comes McCall with a steel chair!

[McCall takes aim with the chair, but as Jack turns around, he catches it and waves his finger
in disapproval at McCall. Pop!]


"THWACCKKKKK!"


JR: METROPILL! McCall just got his clock cleaned!

DD: WHAT?!

JR: McCall, now tossed back into the ring by Jack...and now, Jack lays in some elbowdrops right
into the sternum of the Bostonian!

[Pop!]

JR: And now, Jack with a cover...


ONE!










TWO!










THR--

[HEEL POP!]

DD: Whew!

JR: Unbelievable -- McCall shoots his shoulder up right in the nick of time there.

DD: You know, that's kind of unfair. Since City Jack's a big dude, he shouldn't be allowed to
pin people. He should just be allowed to, I don't know, knock 'em out or something.

JR: Well, he could probably do that just as easily.

DD: Dammit.

[Jack pulls McCall up by the hair and whips him into the turnbuckles. Jack follows up with an
avalanche, crushing McCall in the corner. Face pop for Jack again...]

JR: Jack, now dominating Lucas McCall here, follows up with a chop --


"SMMMMMMAAAAACKKKKKK!"


"SMMMMMMAAAAACKKKKKK!"


"SMMMMMMAAAAACKKKKKK!"


"SMMMMMMAAAAACKKKKKK!"



"SMMMMMMAAAAACKKKKKK!"



"SMMMMMMAAAAACKKKKKK!"



"SMMMMMAAAAACKKKKKKKK!"



"SMMMMMMMMAAAAAACKKKK!"



"SMMMMMMMAAAAAAAACKKKK!"



"SMMMMMMMAAAAAACKKKKKKKK!"


DD: Arrgh...those echoed throughout the Grand Isle!

JR: You're damned right they did...and now, Jack is following up --



"SMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAACKKKKKKKK!"



JR: DOUBLE CHOP~!

[As McCall slumps in the corner, grabbing his chest in pain, Jack begins his dancing routine
for the fans, who are just eating it up.]

DD: Goddammit. Someone stop this!

JR: Heh, the man is sure having fun here...

DD: Well, if he keeps on doing this, he's not going to be the Television champion for any much
longer.

[Suddenly, out of desperation, McCall pounces out of the corner and scores an uppercut between
the legs on City Jack! Heel pop!]

DD: Natch.

JR: Another devious maneuver from Lucas McCall, who covers Jack -- waitaminute! McCall's got
his legs on the ropes for leverage!

[Too bad, though, as Francois doesn't see it...


ONE!










TWO!










THREE?!



HUGE POP!]


DD: GAAAAH! WHAT?!?

JR: JACK KICKED OUT!

DD: That's...that's impossible!

JR: Why, because McCall tried to _cheat_?

DD: Well, I don't think Lucas realized his feet were on the ropes anyway...

[Rodgers audibly sighs. Meanwhile, Lucas, wide-eyed, kicks the ropes in frustration. He grabs
City Jack as he (Jack) gets up and slowly twists Jack into a Hangman's neckbreaker position...]

JR: Lucas McCall going for a Hangman's neckbreaker here...


"CRUUUUUNCH!"


DD: There ya go, Lucas!

JR: McCall hit the neckbreaker...and now, the cover!


ONE!










TWO!











THR--


[Face pop!]


JR: No, Jack kicks out again!

DD: Damn, I thought the guy would be alot slower since he's, you know, _fat_!

JR: Well, don't overlook City Jack's abilities, Dirk; that's why he's the TV champion.

DD: Psh.

[McCall complains about the count to Francois again, who backs off...again. As McCall turns
around, though, he gets nailed with a Metropill from hell! Pop!]

JR: Metropill out of nowhere!

DD: I think I saw a tooth fly...yargh! C'mon, Lucas! You can do it; the force is with you!

JR: Uh...

[McCall, holding his jaw in pain, turns around to meet Jack, who scoops up McCall and sends him
down hard onto the canvas with a bodyslam! Pop!]

JR: City Jack, now taking control of this match again! McCall gets right back up, though...
McCall tries a low blow again, but Jack just caught his foot!

DD: Oh, no! Hey, Francois, do something!

JR: I don't see anything wrong with holding someone's leg up like that in a match...


"SLAAAMMMM!"


JR: Jack just tripped up McCall, and now -- oh, no...

DD: Don't tell me he's gonna use the Gas Pedal, for Chrissake's! That'd be _wrong_ and so
worthy of a lawsuit!

[Jack, as he holds a begging McCall's legs spread eagle, looks to the crowd for approval, which
he -- of course -- gets. However, instead of putting the boots to McCall's bits and pieces,
Jack throws the legs down and sits down onto the crotch! Sympathy pop!]

DD: AUUUUUGH! That's [BLEEP]in' wrong, man!

JR: Oh, my! Lucas McCall won't be -- well, let's just say he's not exactly going to have a
hell of a time with the ladies anytime soon.

DD: You sound so friggin' cliche and stupid.

JR: Thanks.

[The fans cheer on Jack as he sits up, allowing McCall a little bit of relief. McCall crawls
into the corner, where he pulls himself up using the ropes and the turnbuckles. Of course,
he's still grabbing at his nuts.]

JR: Lucas McCall in a world of hurt here...but can he still win the TV title from a challenging
opponent such as City Jack?

DD: Well, according to my odds, he can!

JR: You're awfully dense.

[Jack goes in to punish McCall some more, except that doesn't happen as McCall greets him with
an eye poke. Heel pop!]

JR: More devious tactics from Lucas McCall here, who kicks City Jack in the gut, sets him up --
he might be going for the cradle piledriver he calls the Bitchmaker here!

DD: And ain't that a cool name for a move, too?

JR: Only you would think that...

[McCall, with Jack's head set up between his legs, wraps his arms around Jack's ample waist.
He attempts to lift the 300-pounder, but to no avail.]

JR: The crowd is getting riled up here, as McCall is trying to lift the big man! It seems
doubtful he can do this, Dirk...

DD: Don't talk to me!

JR: Gladly. And now, McCall still trying to lift Jack --


"WHAAAAAAMMM!"


[Pop!]

JR: But no! City Jack with a reversal, back bodydropping Lucas McCall!

[McCall attempts to kick Jack in the nuts again, but Jack catches the leg..._again_. However,
this time, instead of tripping the poor soul, Jack shoves the leg aside and latches a bear hug
onto McCall! Huge pop!]

JR: Uh-oh...

DD: Goddamn't! Get out of it, Lucas! Tear his friggin' eyes out or something!

JR: Looks like he's taking your advice, Dirk; McCall is nailing Jack repeatedly on the head
there, but --






"THHHHHHWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM~!"







[HUGE POP!]


JR: METROBOOM! METROBOOM! HE JUST _CRUSHED_ MCCALL!

DD: NOOOOO! GODDAMMIT!

[City Jack wipes a bit of sweat off of his brow as he goes in to cover McCall, hooking the leg
as well for good measure.


ONE!

















TWO!














THREE!


HUGE OUR-HERO-BEAT-THE-BAD-GUY-AND-RETAINED-THE-TITLE POP~!]


JR: Well, whaddya say now, Dirk?

DD: Ugh...

JR: Another _huge_ victory for the Television champ, City Jack, but I must give credit to Lucas
McCall for putting up one helluva fight tonight.

DD: But he came up short damnit!

JR: That he did.. and while we wait for City Jack to exit the ring, let's take a look at some
pre-recorded comments from Russ Brady.

DD: Time to get out the hick translation manual.

[Open to the locker room, in the Dollah. Not well lit, kinda fuzzy production, but it can be
seen that Russ Brady is sitting on the bench, looking down. His dirty blonde hair is hanging
over his face, because that's what happens when you look down. He snaps his head back, sending
hair flying everywhere. Finally Brady look up, not smiling but looking rather calm.]

RB: There's thangs 'at even Ah don't unnerstand. But Ah ain't gonna waste yer tahm er m'
breath, not t'night.

Whut is it boy? Whut's yer major malfunction Faith? Are ya jealous? O' me'n whut Ah done so far
here? T'ain't a helluva lot, but it's been more'n you. Is 'at it? Ya want mah spot? Then be a
goddamn man'n take it. Don't, _don't_ keep wormin' aroun', tryin' ta 'nnoy me. 'Cause once ya
hit crit'cal mass son...yer gonna wish ya didn't.

[...]

RB: So mebbe ya should keep 'em comin'. Keep on attackin' me, costin' me matches. Make a
nuisance o'yerself. Have a good tahm doin' it too, have yerself a ball. 'Cause sometahm
soon...mebbe not t'day, mebbe not t'morrow...but sometahm soon yer gonna pay the piper, an
b'lieve me son 'at's somethin' ya ain't gonna enjoy quite so much.

[Brady breathes deeply and produces a lit cigarette, taking a puff.]

RB: Naw t'night, a six man match. Faith, McBaine, Wilkins. Mah three fav'rite people in GIW...
all starin' across th' ring from me. All three bastards, they prob'ly want a piece o' me. Hell,
Ah beat up Wilkins not too long ago, McBaine's been swingin' his chair in mah d'rection...an'
we all know th' story 'bout Faith. Well boys, th' line forms on th' right...you set yerselves
up an' Ah'll knock yer asses down...jes' lahk 'at. Hell, anytahm Ah get th' chance to beat up a
faggot Texan...as if 'ey come any other way...Ah'll be there.

An' McBaine...that sonofabitch's beggin' fer someone ta beat the shit outta him...an' Ah'm
allays willin' ta help out with 'at 'swell.

An' Faith...

[Russ snarls now, hatefully spewing every word.]

RB: An' Faith...Ah'll say it _one_ _more_ _tahm_...ya don't wanna piss this sumbitch off
anymore'n ya already have...cause once ya cross th' point o' no return...there's no turnin'
back. An' then...an' then punk...you'll find out why. Don't be stupid boy, b'lieve these words
'at face value...you _don't_ wanna go there.

[Fade.]

DD: Dude, Ryan Faith eats pieces of shit like Russ Brady for breakfast!

JR: He's eats pieces of shit for breakfast?!

DD: Settle down Happy.

JR: [sighs] I thought that was pretty good, actually.

DD: Not bad, not bad.

JR: Well, regardless, let's hear what Ryan Faith had to say about tonight's big main event.

[Generic GIW backdrop. Newturned heel, Ryan Faith stands there with a cocky smirk on his face.
His shaggy hanging in his face, he brushes it aside, to show his youthful face... he waits a
few seconds.. composing himself.. then he speaks...]

RF: Well, it seems that the incoherent Russ Brady has some sort of sack. That the inbred hick
from Oklahoma, actually has an ounce or two of guts in that body of his.

[shrugs]

RF: It really won't do him any good. I mean, a person can be inspired, but inspiration only
lasts so long. Inspiration can only fuel blind rage for so long. Are you listening to me,
Brady? How stupid are you?

[smirks]

RF: Do you know what you are getting yourself into? I mean, really take some time to think
about this, Russ. I dropped you on your head. I cost you the chance to advance in the GIW
tournament. And all you got to do was pop me in my face, once... and get in a few kicks.

[chuckles]

RF: Man, if that's all your capable of, then what should I worry about? Had I been given that
opportunity, I would have dropped you on your head again. Come on Russ, show me you care, just
a lil.

[Faith shakes the hair out of his face]

RF: Show me that you want it Russ. Do you want it?

[pause]

RF: Because I want it, Russ. I want it bad. I want to drop you on your head so many times, that
you won't be able to ever walk again. I want to be able to drop your name from ever being
mentioned ever again. I want to erase you from the memories of whatever fans you may have been
able to gather, being a complete horseshit.

This isn't physics, Russ. It's not rocket science. So it is something you should be able to
understand.

[motions for the camera to come closer]

RF: You are inferior. You belong to the weak. And everyone knows, that the weak don't survive,
Brady. You won't survive, Brady. Because as tough as you may think you are. You are not
prepared.

[laughing now]

RF: You aren't ready to test your faith.

[Fade.]

DD: Russ Brady is not ready to test his faith.. no way, that poor hick is gonna get murdered.

JR: I highly doubt that pretentious punk Ryan Faith has as much bite as he does bark.

DD: You gotta be kidding me!

JR: Not at all.

DD: You'll see, if not tonight, than in two weeks from today, when Brady gets wasted at
Brawlin'!

JR: Yes, we de-

# I LOVE THE GIRLS AND THE MONEY AND THE SHAME OF LIFE! #

[Mixed pop! All eyes turn to the entranceway, and a small chorus of boos erupt from the crowd
as former WWEW Light Heavyweight champion Reggie Calhoun steps through the curtain. Decked out
in a pair of khakis and a navy blue turtleneck, Calhoun stands a few feet in front of the
entrance portal, clipboard in one hand, his other arm at his side, surveying the crowd. "The
Shame of Life" by the Butthole Surfers drowns out the growing jeers, and Calhoun shakes his
head, smirks, and makes his way down to the ring.]

[Calhoun takes his time scaling the ring steps and walking down the apron, stopping and looking
back down the aisleway before wiping his feet on the apron, and entering the ring. He takes
the house mic away from the midget, and "The Shame of Life" cuts off.]

RC: I know a lot of you probably expect me to stand in this ring and run down Grand Isle
Wrestling and all of you... You probably expect me to stand here and talk about how much better
I am than all of you, and how I've got more talent in my pinky --

[He holds up the pinky finger on his right hand.]

RC: -- than guys like "Bad Eye" McBaine and Ryan Faith and whatever other jokers you've got
running around this place. I mean, let's call a spade a spade -- I _am_ better than the trash
you call "wrestlers", but like I said, that's not why I'm out here.

[Cheap heel pop!]

RC: No, I'm out here because I want to talk to a guy you GIW boys've got who has become a man's
man, and really, a personal hero of mine in recent weeks. A man's man! He's a champion's
champion!

[Confused pop!]

RC: City Jack, get out here!

[After a small wait, "Classical Gas" cues up and the fans give a face pop as the GIW Television
champion, City Jack, strides on out again. He's still sweating heavily and has a drenched towel
around his thick neck to prove it. Jack, though, has a very annoyed face as he comes down to
the ring.]

RC: Jack, my man, I know you're a busy guy -- you're the Television champion, by God! You've
got places to go and people to see! You've got autographs to sign and babies to kiss!

[Jack nods, and the crowd pops in appreciation.]

RC: So all I want from you, my man, it's simple -- I want a shot at the Television Title.

[POP!]

RC: I want a chance to prove I can hang with a champion among champions! I want a shot to
prove myself to the world, to prove that Reggie Calhoun isn't just some fluke, some flash in
the pan! So what'll it be, Jack? Can you help make my dreams come true?

[Jack looks on for a moment, stroking his bearded chin as he does so.]

CJ: So let me get this here thing ironed out for me now. I'd just done wrestled my match in one
helluva workthrough. I'm in the back, getting all nice and fresh-like, talking it up with some
of the great fans here -

[Big pop for the easy heat.]

CJ: When I get interrupted here by you? Now don't me wrong here - I do like being challenged,
but when I'm done a match, I don't want to have to step back into this here ring again? When
I'm out, I'm out for the night. Otherwise, you've got one angered sob looking at you in the
eye.

[CIty Jack gives Calhoun a near-angered look.]

CJ: So to top it all with that cherry, you ask for my own title without even puttin' one boot
to anyone in this place? No, sir, I don't know about that. There's a line and a half out back
of wrestlers who've proved it that they can stick it up to a level near of a Tel-e-vision
Champ.

[City shakes his head.]

CJ: No sir, indeed. I don't even know you, boy. Sure, you could be some bigshot out East or
West or where ever you done sprawled from, but here you don't just do that, I say. No matter
who you might be. Now that's a good day from me.

[Jack starts to leave the ring, very hot & bothered, as Reggie Calhoun speaks up.]

RC: Come on now, Jack! That's not the kind of response all of these people want to hear!

[Small pop!]

RC: You're the Television champion, by God! A champion's champion! A champion among
champions, baby -- and I've never known a _true_ champ to turn tail and back down from a
challenge! I have all the respect for you in the world, Jack, I really do... Give me this shot
to prove myself to all of these fans, my man, and we'll light this promotion on fire!

CJ: You sure are one persistent character, aren't ya? Well, I'll do this against my own better
judgment, but I'll give it to ya. Sure seem keen to the idea of taking me on and these fans
seem to be all warm to it, so why not? You're on there, Calhoun.

[Calhoun smiles, looking down at the contract.]

RC: You're a good man, City Jack, you really are -- and boy, you just signed your life away to
me.

[City Jack blinks, confused -- and then Calhoun drives the edge of clipboard into his throat!
HUGE HEEL POP!]

JR: SNEAK ATTACK BY REGGIE CALHOUN! HE JUST SLAMMED THAT CLIPBOARD INTO CITY JACK'S THROAT!

[City Jacks starts reeling backwards, coughing uncontrollably, and Calhoun strikes again --
hooking his arms around his head, and...

















_WHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAM!_

















... dropping him with an Ace Crusher!]

JR: And Calhoun follows it up with Amazing Grace! City Jack is in trouble!

DD: In trouble? He's totally screwed! Reggie Calhoun has his number!

[The timekeeper starts ringing the bell furiously, and a horde, of four, of officials come
charging down to the ring to try and stop Calhoun, who is kicking away at the fallen City Jack,
who now appears to be coughing up blood from the initial clipboard shot. Finally, Calhoun
stops his assault on City Jack and grabs the discarded clipboard and contract, raising it high
in the air to a loud heel pop!]

JR: Absolutely sickening.. this is disgusting! I don't know who the hell this kid thinks he
is.. but when City Jack gets his bearings under him, Reggie Calhoun is up the creek!

DD: Oh man! This kid just made my day! Thank you Reggie!

JR: [sighs] And in fear of going from bad to worse.. let's take you away from the ring and to
some prerecorded comments from "Bad Eye" McBaine.

DD: MCBAINE!!!
If a wholly Great One rules, the people hardly know that he exists. Lesser men are loved and praised, still lesser ones are feared, still lesser ones are despised. How thoughtful one must be in what one says! The work done, business takes its course, and all people think: "We are free." - Lao Tzu

"Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." - Ronald Reagan

"The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government." - Thomas Jefferson
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
[The scene cuts to what appears to be a slightly darkened classroom. The countless rows of
desks and chairs are empty as a streak of lightening can be seen for a bit of a second outside
of the classroom window. As the rumbling of its thunder soon follows it, the large figure of a
man can be seen sitting on top of the teacher's desk at the front of the room.

As the camera begins to zoom in on the figure, its heavily scarred, bruised and naked chest can
be seen rising and lowering quite methodically. He wears black jeans and boots, and holds his
head so that the matted rug of black hair cover his face. However, just looking at the figure
most people know it could be but one man... and then his voice reinforces it...]

McBaine: So you think I'm a coward, do you?

[The one eyed warrior, "Bad Eye" McBaine pauses for a moment as the fat rain drops begin to tap
dance along the window glass. He slowly lifts a single index finger into the air, seeming
pointing to something to which we cannot see.]

McBaine: Leviticus... is that something that your runt of a master, Defay told you to spit out
against me... or is it something you actually thought up for yourself?

[McBaine brings his finger closer to his face, peering deeply into it.]

McBaine: I heard a rumor that you're not listening to Defay anymore...

Is this true?

Is it true that you have reached the point of frustration with my... "antics..." that you have
actually had the courage to speak for yourself?

Is it true that you suddenly now you have the urges again to actually... end a half-blind man's
life???

[McBaine's upper torso begins to shake violently in an attempt to hold the
laughter from escaping.]

McBaine: Poor child...

[McBaine lightly pushes a couple of strands of hair from his face revealing
his one good eye.]

McBaine: You think that it matters to me what you... an unknown, overgrown oaf like yourself
thinks about me? You think that just because you call me a coward... because you stand there
with your little "tex'azzz" draw and claim that my "meetings" with you show that I'm scared of
you... that all of a sudden I will take your words seriously?

[McBaine shakes his head.]

McBaine: Who exactly do you think you are? Or more importantly... who do you think I am?

[McBaine's lips begin to curl into a devilish smile.]

McBaine: Obviously you're still trying to figure that out. If you truly think I am a man that
can only gain an advantage by attacking another man from behind... just ask George Stevens, if
you can find him, what he thinks. Just ask Doyle Woodall if he agrees with your blind
assessment of me...

[McBaine eases himself off of the desk and wonders over to the blackboard.
He picks up a piece of chalk and eyes it intently.]

McBaine: I believe it's time you learn a lesson, Leviticus. I think it time that you start to
learn exactly WHO and WHAT "Bad Eye" McBaine is...

[McBaine taps the powdery chalk against the board, pondering his next words.]

McBaine: It's a lesson that has begun from the moment that you stepped out of the back and
found a silver chain wrapped around your neck... has continued to this very day through chains,
chairs and baseball bats... and will finally end in a ring of barbwire....

[McBaine taps the chalk harder and harder against the board until suddenly it breaks in two. He
then turns to the camera, the sadistic playfulness gone from his face.]

McBaine: And when you finally look up at my one good eye... through the crimson mask I will
provide from you... and passed the barbwire crown I shall place upon your head... you will
finally come to a realization...

[McBaine takes a step closer to the camera.]

McBaine: A true realization... unlike the one you 'believe' you have come to about so called
"redemption..."

[McBaine pauses for a second as if a sadistic thought had just crossed his mind.]

McBaine: .......

[McBaine chuckles slightly.]

McBaine: Oh come now... you didn't think I would make things THAT easy for you...

[With that McBaine turns away from the camera and wonders over to the window as the streaks of
water blur the vision through it. Outside the streets are empty and quiet. McBaine touches the
glass with his hand as a streak of lightening lights the sky.]

McBaine: Despite what you might think.... the TRUE storm is merely BEGINNING to brew...

[McBaine pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts.]

McBaine: It always surprises me how sheep can live for years upon years in front of a slaughter
house... and never know what exactly their future holds...

[McBaine turns to the camera, good eye focused on the world.]

McBaine: Doyle... Russ... Leviticus...

[McBaine takes a step up to the camera so that only his one good eye can be seen with a few
streaks of jet black hair.]

McBaine: Pay close attention....

You ALL will get a sneak peak tonight...

[Cut.]

JR: Pure, unadulterated evil.. that's what McBaine is.

DD: And he's your soon-to-be Heavyweight champion of this company.

JR: Not if Leviticus Nelson has something to say about it.. and I think he does.

DD: That oversized oaf stands no chance, I mean christ, he's led around by an admitted child
molester!

JR: Admitted?

DD: Soon, soon.

JR: Well fans.. it's time for our big main event.. so let's toss it over to Antonio Hervez for
the official introductions.

DD: Where the hell is Eli by the way?

[Cut to Hervez who is standing outside the ring almost too drunk to get into the ring.. so he
stays on the outside..]


AH: Ladi-


[A voice suddenly rings out.]

Voice: You know what this match needs?

[The crowd buzzes a bit as...someone strolls through the curtains and into the aisle. You
can't tell who it is, because he's wearing a black silk robe with the hood pulled over his
head. His head is bowed, concealing his face. He's making his way down the aisle...mic in
hand.]

[JR]: What the hell?!

Voice: To be honest, it doesn't need much. There's some pretty solid talent running around
these parts...

[The mystery man climbs onto the apron and steps through the ropes, making sure to keep his
face covered.]

V: It does need just a little something, though...a little element of excitement, maybe a touch
more credibility, someone of superstar calibre on the other side, so the good guys don't get
blinded when McBaine comes to the ring.

[Somewhat mocking laughter issues from the depths of the hood.]

V: What this match needs is a former world champion. This match needs a real superstar,
someone who has rolled with the likes of Eddie Van Gibson, Sam Willis, Blackwater Bart, and
even ol' "Bad Eye" himself.

[JR]: This isn't on my sheets?!

[DD]: Not very shocking, dingleberry.

[Some boos. The crowd buzzes a bit, a few of them guessing who's under the hood, perhaps.]

V: This match needs someone who isn't fazed by star power! Someone who, above all things, can
call it right down the middle...50/50, but one hundred percent fair!

[He reaches up for the hood...and pauses.]

V: That being the case, let me introduce you to tonight's main event's special guest referee...

[The hood comes off...and the boos rain down!]

V: "The Doctor of Love" Dave Bryant!

[Bryant doubles over, laughing, as the crowd boos mercilessly.]

DB: I haven't had that much fun in forever...all those great names I dropped, you guys thought
someone major was coming in, didn't ya? Maybe you were expecting Jack Greene? Mark Langseth?
I have one word for you hicks...

[Pause.]

DB: HAH!

[Heel pop...rising...]

DB: Seriously, though...when I said this match needed a little excitement, I meant it. When I
said it needed a referee who won't be blinded by McBaine's superstar status, I was dead
serious.

[The heel pop dies off a little.]

DB: I mean, come on. After McBaine beats down the good guys, then lays out his teammates,
pinning all five of them with one well-placed boot...what's left?

[The respite is short-lived, however.]

DB: That man's the only superstar this little podunk hole in the ground is ever gonna see...
mark my words. Once he mows down the entire roster, he's gonna leave -- and when he goes, so
goes your TV deal, and any hope you ever had of being something anyone would ever give a damn
about!

[Ouch.]

DB: Yeah, that's right, boo your little heads off, you assholes! My mere presence is going to
do nothing but make you money, and that's the thanks I get?

[Dave shakes his head, then reaches down, untying the belt on his robe. It parts slightly,
revealing a pair of black pants and a referee's striped shirt.]

DB: Figures. Every single one of you is going to kiss my ass by the time I'm done here, and
when I show you how much I'm helping to keep Grand Isle Wrestling alive? You'll call it ice
cream and mean it!

[With that, Dave tosses the mic from the ring, takes his robe all the way off, and hands it to
the ringside attendant, then steps into the middle of the ring, smirk returning as he waits to
begin the match.]

JR: Dave Bryant is in GIW?! MY GOD!!

DD: THE DOCTOR OF LOVE!! Rock on, this place is finally starting to look up!

JR: I appreciate what Dave Bryant has done in our sport, but if he thinks what he just said had
any grain of truth in it, then he's highly delusional.

DD: What? McBaine will leave. I mean, look at it.. work for peanuts in a hellhole.. or work
in the biggest company in the world for the big bucks, gee, tough decision.

JR: [sighs] True, bu-

DD: No buts. But fear not, Dave Bryant is here and he's gonna put his refereeing skills to the
test!

JR: Well, let's allow Antonio make the intros and see just how well this Doctor of Love can
officiate.

DD: This may not be a good time to say this, but, have you seen Bobby Ray Wilkins around today?

JR: Actually, no, I haven't.

DD: I heard he broke his wrist but I figured it be just some vicious rumor spread by Doyle
Woodall to get out of his match at Brawlin'.

JR: WHAT?!

DD: Broken.. wrist.. hand.. arm something!


AH: Ladies and gentlemen.. our next contest is a big six man tag.. and it is the main event of
this evening!! [POP!!] Introducing team one..


["God Hates A Coward" by Tomahawk blasts over the speaks as the GIW faithful get on their feet
and boo heavily.. as Faith walks out from behind the corner to even more boos.]


AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 242 pounds.. and he hails from
Southborough, Massachusetts.. here is..


RYAN FAITH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


[Big Time Heel Pop!]

[Faith walks slowly but purposefully towards ringside as a few fans try to take a shot at him..
a few cups whizzing past his head as he slides into the ring and warms up awaiting his partners
in crime.]


AH: And his partner..


["Until It Sleep" by Metallica hits the airwaves as the masses get to their feet and
immediately boo like mad.. as "Bad Eye" McBaine walks out from behind the curtain.. in his
usual black tanktop, the eye-patched warrior starts to walk down to ringside.. two bats in
hand..]


AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 302 pouns.. and he hails from the Valley
of the Blind.. here is..


"BAD EYE" McBAINE!!


[Monster heel pop as he climbs into the ring.. eyeing down Dave Bryant who just smiles but does
back away a bit.. as McBaine then tosses a bat to Ryan Faith who nods accordingly.]

JR: It looks like McBaine knew that Wilkins wasn't going to be here tonight so he brought an
equilizer!

DD: Smart man that McBaine! Smart man!

JR: He needs weapons, Dirk! He can't fight fair, this man is a cheat and a lowdown bastard!

DD: He beat Woodall fair and square, didn't he?

JR: Sorta, but I'll contest even that!


AH: And their opponents..


[MASSIVE POP!!]


JR: OH MY!! Here they all come!! Nelson, Woodall, and Brady have just burst out from the
entrance curtain and all running right down to the ring!! Dave Bryant may have bitten off more
than even he can chew tonight!!


-----------------------------------------------
Grand Isle Wrestling: Six-Man Tag Main Event!!

"Bad Eye" McBaine/Ryan Faith/Bobby Ray Wilkins

vs.

Leviticus Nelson/Doyle Woodall/Russ Brady

Written By: Mike Gilliland
-----------------------------------------------


[DING DING DING!!]


JR: In slides Brady and Woodall!! Big swings of the bats, [Pop!] ducked by both men! McBaine
and Faith quickly turning back ar-


[Thud!! Big time Pop!]


JR: Oh my! Huge double lariat by Leviticus Nelson sends both men crashing to the mat!

[The bats, meanwhile, have flown out of their hands and gathered on the ground at ringside.. to
which Bobby Joe DeFay picks up as he has just jaunted on down to the ring as well.]

DD: This is unfair! It's three on two! Completely and unbelievably unfair!

JR: McBaine and Faith back to their feet.. Brady's got Faith! Woodall's got McBaine!


[Double Thud!]


JR: Stereo scoop bodyslams!


[Thud!]


JR: and Nelson with a big splash over both men! The good guys are cleaning house!


[Boo!]


DD: There ya go! Dave Bryant is ordering Brady and Nelson to their neutral corner! There you
go Dave, you tell 'em what's up!

[That's right, Bryant has forced those two to their corner and rolls Faith to his corner..
leaving McBaine and Woodall as the legal men which draws a pop!]

JR: These two went to hell and back on the 2nd and tonight they renew acquaintances.. as
Woodall pulls McBaine back up by the hair.. and a forearm shiver.. and another sends McBaine
into a neutral corner!

DD: Ya know, even three on two, I'd take McBaine and Faith over these three chumps, and hell, I
may get some favorable odds as well!

JR: Big overhand rights in the corner just throttling the man who gets his shot at the
Heavyweight title in two weeks.. Woodall with an irish whip and into the far corner goes
McBaine!

DD: Weak.

JR: The Dirty One takes off.. big cl-, no! McBaine got a boot up and caught Woodall flush in
the chin backing the big man up! Woodall spins around.. [Thud!] and McBaine with a bonejarring
lariat sends the Dirty One to the mat!


[BOOOOOOO!]


DD: Yes!! Mind games baby!

JR: "Bad Eye" McBaine is just taunting Leviticus Nelson now and yelling for him to get in the
ring! That may not be the best strategy to employ if you are the "Bad Eye".. as Woodall gets
back to his feet..

[Slap! Pop!]

JR: And in comes the big man, Leviticus Nelson! This is what McBaine ask-

[Slap! Boo!]

DD: HAHAHAHAHA!! And McBaine tags out to Ryan Faith! Ingenius!

JR: Or cowardly, depending on how you look at things here.. but nonetheless in comes Ryan
Faith.. the turncoat and overall cocky punk..

DD: Hey, watch his feelings.. just because he rocks doesn't mean he's made of stone!

JR: Good lord that's just.. yeah. Faith and Nelson now maneuvering about the ring sizing each
other up as Dave Bryant watches on with a keen eye.. as they now converge in a collar and elbow
tie-up..


[Thud!]


JR: And what power exhibited by Nelson as he just pushes Ryan Faith back and into a corner!
And Faith looks none too happy right there!

DD: Would you be? He just got tossed around by a certifiable retard!

JR: Faith quickly to his feet and right after Nelson.. Faith up and under with a hammerlock now
applied on the big man.. Nelson looking for a way out, big backelbo-, ducked by Faith! He
lifts..


[Thud!]


DD: Sweet!

JR: Big hammerlock back suplex just floors the monster! And what a show of strength by Ryan
Faith who is right back to his feet and taunting the crowd and more importantly Russ Brady!

DD: And he should be! He just showed up the biggest m-, oh christ!


[Pop!!]


JR: Leviticus Nelson is back to his feet and Ryan Faith has no idea! Faith turns!


[Thud! Pop!]


JR: And a _huge_ running boot to the skull just floors the cocky punk! The quick cover by
Nelson!





ONE!!!!!!!!





KICKOUT!!!!

[Heel pop for what appeared to be a pretty slow one count by Dave Bryant who just shrugs and
smiles.]

DD: Good count ref! About time we got a quality referee in these rings!

JR: Are you kidding me?!

DD: Not at all.


[Slap! Big Time Pop!!]


JR: And oh my!! Russ Brady just tagged in and he's got quite a score to settle with the man in
the ring with him! Brady quickly pulling Faith to his feet! Big right by Brady! But Faith
fires back with one of his own! Another by Brady! Another by Faith! Brady! Faith! Brady!
Faith! Brady! Fa-, ducked by Brady! [Pop!] Kick to the stomach!


[Thud Pop!]


DD: Damnit!

JR: Big DDT drives Faith's skull into the mat! And Brady rolls him over and is right on top of
Faith! He's raining down fists left and r-


[Heel Pop!]


[And why? Because Dave Bryant has pulled Brady off of Ryan Faith and is yelling at Brady to
follow the rules.. which Brady just grins and gives Bryant the finger to a pop!]

JR: What was illegal about that?!

DD: He was using a blatant chokehold!

JR: We don't call dis-

DD: Pipe down and let the man do his job, will ya!

JR: [audibly sighs] It's becoming quite obvious what side Dave Bryant plays for..

DD: Well yeah, he's easily a heterosexual.

JR: I didn't mean that!

DD: Of course not, Brian Boitano-lite.

[Meanwhile, Brady has pulled Faith to his feet and pushes him back into the ropes..]

JR: Irish whip by Brady as Faith goes off the far side.. big lariat, ducked by Faith who
continues on to the nearside.. Faith off again.. big backelb-, but Faith slides under Brady's
legs! Faith leaps!

[Slap!]

DD: And in comes McBaine!

[Yep, Faith tags out to McBaine who just smiles evilly as he walks right up to Brady in the
center of the ring to a big Standoff Pop!!]

JR: Brady and McBaine! Toe to toe! Neither man willing to back down! And it's Brady with a
stinging right! But McBaine comes back with a right of his own! Left by Brady! Right by
McBaine! Left! Right! Left! Right! Left! Right! Le-, blocked by McBaine! [Thud!]

DD: Jawbreaker by the Bad Eye backs the poor white trash into a corner!

JR: McBaine right on top of Brady now as he raises a boot to the face of Brady in the corner!
[Boo!] Bootchoke in the corner! Where's Dave Bryant on this one?!

[Oh? He's busy trying to tell Nelson and Woodall to stay in their corner although they haven't
even motioned to get into the ring yet.]

JR: Absolutely ridiculous! He's blatantly not doing his job!

DD: He's keeping outside influence from becoming a factor!

JR: Riiiiiiight.

DD: McBaine must feel merciful tonight since he finally let loose of the grip in the corner..
as he pushes Brady over to his corner..

[Slap!]

JR: And in comes Doyle Woodall! It looks like Nelson wanted the tag but Woodall seems as
frustrated as any and wants a piece.. and McBaine is egging him to come on! Woodall charges..
lariat ducked by McBaine as Woodall goes off the ropes.. the Dirty One on the return, ducks a
big McBaine lariat with Woodall stopping right in his tracks..


[Thud!]


JR: And a crisp neckbreaker by the Dirty One puts McBaine on the mat!

DD: This guy cheats more than anyone in this company yet you and the fans adore him, what
gives?

JR: We appreciate Doyle Woodall's professionalism.

DD: What a crock of sheeit!

JR: Woodall lifts McBaine to his feet.. up and under into a hammerlock goes McBaine.. but
Woodall flipped over with a snapmare by McBaine! Clubbing rig-, blocked by Woodall who quickly
rolls to his feet!

[Semi-Wrestling Pop!]

DD: Well, that's about as technical as this match is gonna get.

JR: You said that right.

DD: McBaine wasting no time getting back to his feet as well, the better man indeed.

JR: McBaine with a boot, caught by Woodall!! Woodall's got McBaine hopping around on one leg..
and the Dirty One spins the leg around.. McBaine pulling a three-sixty.. [Thud! Pop!] and
Woodall floors him with a short arm lariat!

DD: Cheap!! Cheater!!

[McBaine is quick to get his bearings under him as he rolls up and back to his feet..]

JR: A big boot to the midsection doubles over the Bad Eye as Woodall quickly cinches McBaine in
with a standing headscissors! The Dirty One lifts him up!!


[Thud!! Big Pop!!]


JR: _Huge_ powerbomb plants the Bad Eye into the mat!

[Slap! Pop!]

DD: Oh sheeit!

JR: Leviticus Nelson just reaches out a few feet and slapped himself in! Nelson stomps over
the top rope and into the ring as he lifts McBaine to his feet.. [Thunk!] and just heaves
McBaine into the corner!

DD: Jeez, this guy must be pumping the roids into those veins tenfold! Illegal!

[Nelson just starts to lay the big boots into the face and stomach of McBaine who slowly starts
to slump into the corner.. Nelson then grinding that boot into the neck of McBaine to a nice
pop.]

DD: Illegal choke with the boot!

JR: McBaine did the same thing?!


[Heel Pop!]


[Why? Oh, it's that pesky Dave Bryant again.. telling Nelson to stop the choke or he'll be
disqualified!]

JR: Ridiculous! Who does this guy think he is?!

DD: He's the Doctor of Love!!

JR: No time fo' love Doctor Jo-

DD: Shaddup!

JR: Nelson staring a hole right through the special referee as he back away from the corner
giving McBaine some room to get back to his fe- [Thud!!] Oh my! Big avalanche out of nowhere
by Nelson just crushes McBaine in the corner!

[McBaine stumbles out and does a semi-Flair flop to a pop as Nelson makes the cover!]

JR: ONE!!!!!!!!!






















KICKOUT!!

DD: McBaine is a machine, he can't be beaten!

JR: Especially with that ridiculous count by Bryant! That should have been a good two, two and
a half!

DD: You saying Dave Bryant is biased?!

JR: Sure seems like it!

DD: Get your eyes checked man!

JR: Nelson back to his feet now as he fires McBaine into his own corner!

[Slap!]

DD: A fresh Ryan Faith is in!

[Slap! Pop!]

JR: And in comes a game Russ Brady! These two are two weeks away from going toe to toe, one on
one at Brawlin'! But tonight we get a precursor to the carnage! Again they converge in the
middle of the ring!!

DD: And Faith shall rule the day!

[They converge as they start to trade blows once again to a monster pop from the crowd! They
fight along a neutral side all along the ropes.. when Brady finally backs up.. as Faith is
backed to the ropes..]

JR: Here comes Brady! Closth-, ducked!


[TTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!! BOOOOOOOOOO!!!]


DD: WOOO!

JR: Brady just got back bodydropped to the concrete below by Ryan Faith! Brady trying to climb
to his feet as Faith looks on from the ring! Faith grabs the ropes.. and leaps!


[Some flashbulbs!]


[TTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!!!]


[HEEL POP!!!]


DD: ROCK!!

JR: BIG SPRINGBOARD PLANCHA BY RYAN FAITH JUST TOOK OUT RUSS BRADY!!

DD: That had flashes of Chris Co-

JR: Hey, lawsuits man! We don't need that headache!

[Note: Just kidding Buser!]

[POP!!]

DD: My god.

JR: both men are right back to their feet!! That move had no effect on either man as
adrenaline must be running high as the three others watch on from the apron!

[And Dave Bryant, oh, he's decided to take a small break as he rests on the top rope and just
watches the wreckage unfold. Meanwhile.. Brady and Faith continue to exchange punches as they
head up the entranceway..]

JR: These two are gonna fight their way to the back! And they are the legal men?!

DD: Like it matters? When have we ever had a countout?

JR: Well, never.

DD: Exactly. So who cares, just enjoy the brawl!

JR: And a brawl it is as both men as just taking shot after shot flush to the chops, neither
man giving an inch as the fans are all on their feet in unison!! This place is going nuts for
these two warriors of the ring!

DD: Warriors of the backstage area is what they are!!

[And he said that why? Because they've just exited stage left! Dave Bryant gets off the top
turnbuckle.. looks at one corner.. then looks at McBaine and shrugs.. before telling them to
continue the match!!]

[Big Pop!!]

JR: Dave Bryant did something fair for once!

DD: Fair?! It's two n one damnit! That's not fair!

JR: Life isn't fair, tough luck.

[McBaine walks into the ring as Woodall does as well.. Nelson looking towards DeFay who just
nods as to say "Relax."]

JR: McBaine and Woodall circling each other how as both men must try to conserve energy,
especially McBaine, if they are to have a chance to take this match home.. collar and elbow
tie-up now as McBaine gets the leverage and pushes Woodall into a corner.. Bryant telling
McBaine to re-


[BOOOOOOOOO!!!]


DD: Big kick to the nuts by McBaine! What a great equilizer right there!! THAT is why he's our
future first Heavyweight Champion ever!

JR: And McBaine quickly putting Woodall in a standing headscissors and lifts!


[Thud!!]


DD: Piledriver!!

JR: Big piledriver by McBaine and the cover!!


ONE!!!!!!!



TWO!!!!!!!



KICKOUT!!!

[Big BOOOOOOOOOO!!]

JR: They ain't booing for the kickout fans, that's for damn sure! They are booing for the
lightning fast count of one Dave Bryant! That was ridiculous!

[McBaine quickly to his feet as he lifts Woodall as well.. firing him into his corner.. now
currently occupied by nobody..]

DD: Smart move by McBaine, he has to isolate his two opponents from each other and that's what
he is doing right here.

JR: Stinging overhands rights just pummeling Woodall in the corner as McBaine pulls the Dirty
One towards the center of the ring.. a scoop.. he spins..


[Thud!! Heel Pop!]


DD: And he just plants Woodall on the canvas with a big powerslam! The cover!


ONE!!!!!!!


TWO!!!!!!!


KICKOUT!!!

JR: And another ultra-fast count by Dave Bryant.. but Woodall still manages to kick out at
two!!

DD: Fast?! He needs to count a bit quicker!

JR: He'll get tongue tied he's counting so fast!


[Big Time Heel Pop rings out as the fans all eye towards the entranceway.. at one man who's
slowly stalking towards the ring.. that one man being..

Bobby Ray Wilkins!]

JR: Good lord no. Here comes fashionably late man!

DD: He's injured damnit! We are lucky he came at all tonight! Look at that cast on his right
arm for Christ's sake!

[Yep, that's right.. BRW has a big cast on his right arm.]

JR: And how did he break that?!

DD: I heard he broke it fishing.

JR: FISHING?!

DD: Hey man, that's a high contact sport!

[Meanwhile.. McBaine has gotten to his feet and has a handful of Woodall's hair.. as he lifts
him up..]

JR: McBaine with a front chancery here.. as he lifts Woodall high into the air.. what a show of
power by McBain-, [Pop!] but Woodall slips out the back and onto his knees!


[POP!!]


JR: And a big nutshot doubles over the man from the Valley of the Blind! Woodall back to his
feet as he grabs McBaine by the back of the head!!


[Thud!! Pop!!]


DD: Christ!!

JR: Big reverse DDT by the Dirty One!! But he's not making the cover as he quickly brings
McBaine back to his feet!

[BRW starts to pick up the pace as he quickly makes it to ringside.. waiting near the apron..]

JR: What is Wilkins up to?

DD: He's just getting a closer view of the action, that's all.

JR: Irish whip by Woodall, reversed by McBaine.. Wilkins up on the apron?!


[Thwack!! Massive Heel Pop!!]


DD: WILKINS!!

JR: GOOD LORD!! WILKINS JUST BLASTED WOODALL IN THE BACK OF THE SKULL WITH THAT CAST!!

DD: By god that had to hurt and further injure Wilkins! He's crazy!

JR: Oh shut up already! You know damn well it's a damn fake! He's a bitch! He refuses to
fight legally, he's a little girl!

DD: Jake!

JR: No! I'm sick of it!

DD: You still gotta call the match!

JR: And what about this so-called ref, he's just smiling!

[That's right, Bryant continues to smile..]

DD: He's happy the way he's been officiating.. he's been doing a great job.

JR: Woodall is just staggering in the ring as McBaine has not been able to capitalize himself..

DD: That'd be because he is busy putting a chain around his fist!

[Heel Pop on cue, as we see McBaine lifting the chain-wrapped fist into the air.. he pulls
back..]


[BIG TIME POP!!]


JR: NELSON!! NELSON INTO THE RING!! NELSON JUST PULLED THAT ARM DOWN!!


[Thud! Pop!]


JR: And he just wasted McBaine with a lariat that sends the chain to the mat!! Nelson lifts
McBaine back to his feet! Clawhold!!


[Massive Pop!]


DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!


[He lifts McBaine high into the air as a few flashbulbs go off..


TTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!!!]


[MONSTER, MONSTER POP!!]


JR: DESCENTION INTO HELL!! DESCENTION INTO HELL!! MCBAINE IS OUT COLD!! NELSON IS PUTTING
WOODALL ON TOP OF MCBAINE!! THE COVER!!



ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!














TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!















THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!














FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!















FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Monster Heel Pop! And so on.. and why? 'Cause Dave Bryant stopped at two..]

JR: What the hell?! Woodall and Nelson had this match won but Dave Bryant just stopped the
count and has slid outside the ring and is talking with Antonio Hervez?! What the hell is he
doing?!

DD: Maybe he's confused!

JR: Confused about what?! One! Two! Three!

[And with that.. Antonio Hervez talks over the loudspeakers.]


AH: Ladies and gentlemen.. our esteemed Referee Dave Bryant has informed me that since he
believes the chain in the ring was used by Leviticus Nelson.. he declares the team of Leviticus
Nelson, Russ Brady, and Doyle Woodall DISQUALIFIED!!


JR: WHAT?!?!?!

DD: THAT'S RIGHT!! BUNCH OF CHEATERS!!

JR: MCBAINE PULLED THE CHAIN OUT!!! EVERYBODY SAW THAT, INCLUDING DAVE BRYANT!! THIS STINKS!!

[The place itself is absolutely lost as they boo in masses more at Dave Bryant who smiles and
them quickly heads towards the back..]

JR: And look at the damned coward run! He screwed Nelson and Woodall over royally and now he's
hightailing the hell out of Dodge.


AH: Your winners.. as a result of a disqualification.. the team of..


"BAD EYE" McBAINE, "VIOLATOR" BOBBY RAY WILKINS, and RYAN FAITH!!!


[Big time boos.. which escalate as Nelson drops to the mat!!]

DD: OH MY!! CAST SHOT TO THE BACK OF THE SKULL OF NELSON!! AND NOW WILKINS IS DRIVING THAT
CAST INTO THE BACK OF THE HEAD OF THE RECOVERING DOYLE WOODALL!

JR: My God!! Bobby Ray Wilkins has lost it!! He's going nuts!! Shot after shot with that
cast!!

[BRW then returns his attention to Nelson.. driving it across his head again as McBaine slowly
gets to his feet.. smiling a deep, sadistic grin..]

JR: This is not good, NOT good!

DD: It's not good! It's great!

[Huge Pop! As Bobby Joe DeFay enters the ring behind McBaine and BRW.. creeping up behind
McBaine.]


[POP!!!]


JR: OH MY!! NUTSHOT FROM BEHIND BY BOBBY JOE DEFAY TO MCBAINE!! He's got the Bad Eye double-,
[OHHHHHHHH!!] but BRW with a shot to the face of DeFay with that cast just drops the outmatched
, outsized Bobby Joe DeFay!

DD: And now he's in for a world of hurt my friend! A world of hurt!!

JR: Good lord, show some compassion for once, this man is no wrestler, he doesn't belong in the
ring with these behemoths!

DD: Then he shouldn't have gotten involved!

[While these two bicker.. BRW has lifted DeFay to his feet.. as McBaine picks up that chain and
wraps it around his fist.. swearing the whole time as he eyes down DeFay..]

JR: DON'T DO MCBAINE!! DON'T DO IT!!

[And with that.. McBaine winds up..

..

..

..

and plasters Bobby Joe square in the right eye with the chain-wrapped fist..]


[MONSTER, MONSTER HEEL POP!!]


DD: YES!! YES!! YES!!

JR: GOOD GOD!! DEFAY IS ON THE MAT SCREAMING!! BLOOD IS FORMING IN A PUDDLE, MCBAINE HAS GONE
TOO FAR!! DEFAY IS IN SERIOUS TROUBLE!!

[Yeah, DeFay isn't really selling it like normal.. he seems brutally hurt as he squirms on the
mat rolling around as blood spills from the eye and face.. enough to have McBaine and BRW slide
out of the ring rather surprised.. heading towards the back.]

JR: This is horrible! We need some help down here! We need it now! Help, somebody damnit,
somebody get down here!

DD: Like we can afford it!

JR: This man is in serious pain!

[With that, two paramedics rush to his aid as they slide into the ring and start to look over
DeFay as the crowd is hushed.. Nelson back to his feet and quickly over to DeFay as he eyes the
entranceway as him and McBaine share a sadistic staredown.. almost equaled by the one BRW and
Woodall are having at the same moment.]

JR: WOODALL AND WILKINS!! MCBAINE AND NELSON!! TWO WEEKS FROM TODAY!! BRAWLIN' ON THE DOCK OF
THE BAY!! THE LINES HAVE BEEN DRAWN AND THE SCORES WILL BE SETTLED!! TUNE IN!! AND SAY A PRAY
FOR BOBBY JOE DEFAY, PLEASE!!

DD: Oh christ, I'll pass!

JR: GOODNIGHT!!

[Abruptly, we cut to a scene oddly similar to the end of the last GIW show, we cut from the
live feed to a shot of a darkened motel room. Again the footage seems to be shot by an amateur
and again the shot rests on the television screen although this time, it's paused on the
shocked face of Jacob Rodgers. A throaty chuckle is heard.]

???: "That's not McBaine's voice!" you cried.

[The camera suddenly moves dramatically... like the person holding it has risen to his feet.]

???: "Who the hell was that?" you asked.

[Our view moves drastically... like something out of the Blair Witch Project as our cameraman
walks, swinging the camera in his hand.]

???: In two weeks... your statements will be proven true. In two weeks...your questions will
be answered. In two weeks...

Grand Isle Wrestling will never be the same again.

[A "click" is heard as another light is switched off.]

???: Your quiet little island town is about to be hit by a storm the likes of which you never
thought you'd see... that you never dreamed you'd see.

That you prayed you'd never see.

[A few more steps and now we see the map from last week's footage. The gloved hand appears,
pulling the tacks out of the map.]

???: My life has been built on ruining the reputations of legends... and shattering the dreams
of rookies.

What a world we live in where I can do both in one place.

[The map falls to the floor in a heap.]

???: My entire career has been spent talking about the end.

Starting in two weeks? It's time for a new beginning.

[Finally, the camera comes to rest on the door to the room... and we move closer towards it
with each step.]

???: Batten down the hatches, Grand Isle.

A storm is about to come to shore.

[And with that... we cut to blackness.]


Grand Isle Wrestling 2002.
If a wholly Great One rules, the people hardly know that he exists. Lesser men are loved and praised, still lesser ones are feared, still lesser ones are despised. How thoughtful one must be in what one says! The work done, business takes its course, and all people think: "We are free." - Lao Tzu

"Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." - Ronald Reagan

"The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government." - Thomas Jefferson
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