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| HUGELIVE~!; The card for ... whenever this was due. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 12 2010, 11:31 PM (369 Views) | |
| Mozeart | Oct 12 2010, 11:31 PM Post #1 |
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
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More to follow. --- [Fade in on the common area of the Hellfire. Descending the stairs from the kitchen comes one Harvey Jenkins, AKA DJ Har-V when in the door walks a disheveled man dressed in rags.] DJHV: Hey man, yo, hold up. This ain't the shelter. I know half the people in this podunk live in tent cities but ... holy crap it's Barney. [Plopping down, collapsing really, in one of the common area's many padded deck chairs, Barney leans on a mesh-top metal table. Slumping, head on an outstretched arm, he breathes laboriously, looking up at Harvey.] DJHV: What the hell, man? I thought you were goin' home before you came here. You look like ten gallons of runny diarrhea crap. [Swallowing hard, Barney gasps, catching his breath before speaking.] BJ: Yeah, thanks for that, man. This is just as much home as my house. Had to see the Hellfire. The basement's sealed? DJHV: Oh yeah, they sprayed this thick blue crap looked like paint. Stunk the whole place up for months. BJ: Uh-huh. DJHV: Oh yeah, and that's just on the outside. Down in the dungeon, man, they went between every damned stone, man. Every stone. Used this industrial-type “Great Stuff” and now the stonework looks like some sorta Japanese confection. BJ: Holy crap. DJHV: They dug out this damned ditch outside the walls too. Sprayin' that sealant and even more pesticide. Thought they'd never finish. BJ: What else? The whole place didn't stay down the whole time, did it? DJHV: Well, no, not really. I mean, we tried to keep guys -- wrestlers that is, uh, well, okay, we lost some guys. BJ: Oh no... Who? DJHV: Well, Spectre... BJ: Oh, oh no. He was our biggest star! DJHV: Yeah, well, he got called back up to PVW. BJ: Dammit. DJHV: Then he murdered PVW's “owner”. Y'know, the guy strugglin' for control with the corporation? BJ: Oh, kinda dodged the bullet there, I guess. I assume you don't mean “murdered” literally. DJHV: Close enough. Uhm, who else? Well, when there wasn't any beer to be had Grant O'Hara disappeared. Don't know where he went. Oh, and Scott Nielsen got called up too. BJ: Well, good for him, I guess. DJHV: Oh, and, uh … Viper took off. BJ: Viper? But … he lives here. He bought a house a block away from mine! DJHV: Well I don't know what to tell ya, man. Maybe you should actually go home and, when you're done sleeping, clean yourself up and go beat on his door. Then, tomorrow, man, I can't wait to hear about what you been goin' through. BJ: It's boring, mostly, a big snafu with my visa. Y'know, when all my stuff got stolen and I got pressed into slavery. DJHV: Say what now? BJ: Nevermind. Just, I'm gonna need a ride to my place. Drive me? DJHV: Why didn't you just take the cab there? BJ: I told you, I wanted to come here first. You don't want to drive me? DJHV: Uh, no, well, sure man, but I got some stuff to do here. Here, take my keys. BJ: You're loaning me your car? DJHV: It's a van, man. A van full of sound equipment. BJ: I know that. Why? DJHV: I told you, I'm busy. BJ: Okay... [Taking the proffered keys, Barney stands, moving towards the door and waving back at Harvey.] BJ: Okay, I'm going. Hey, you checked on my house every week, right? Like you said? DJHV: Yeah, it got checked. Every day, even. It's all good, brah. BJ: Awesome. Man, I just want a shower and about 12 hours of sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, man. Thanks again! [Out the door goes Barney, and Harvey's stiff smile gives way to a worried grimace. He reaches a hand into his pocket, jerks it out, and rapidly dials a cellphone.] DJHV: C'mon Preston. Answer your phone, man. God, I hope that freak already found someplace to be... *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Cue the horns. “Hell” by the Squirrel Nut Zippers plays. “The Walking Contradiction” Sabbath is seen looking at a ludicrously dressed (in a rubber muscle suit) Vile “Vince” Viper Deluxe from behind as he flexes his fake muscles.] #In the afterlife,# #you could be headed for the serious strife.# #Now you make the scene all day,# #But tomorrow there'll be hell to pay.# [Leon Wellsley brushes imaginary dirt off his shoulder, then crushes his opponent with a cross body. Twinkletoes Tiwilliger hits a 500+ pound legdrop, Tre Jordan flees the ringside area in terror.] #People listen attentively,# #I mean about future calamity.# #I used to think the idea was obsolete,# #until I heard the old man stamping his feet.# [The Spectre drops a huge, musclebound circus clown on his head. Antonio Morientes hits a vicious lariat, Grant O'Hara powerslams a hapless victim.] #Now the D and the A and the M,# #and the N and the A,# #and the T and the I-O-N,# #Lose your face, lose your name,# #then get fitted for a suit of flaaame!# [Scott Nielsen comes off the top, twirling in air. The instrumental finish to “Hell” hits as Dylan Scott hits a double knee smash in the corner. Preston Mayfield hits a low blow. Then, filling the the viewer's web browser, HUGE's logo shines upon the screen.] .____________________________________________. | _ _ _ _ ___________ | | / / / / | | | / __ \ ____\ | | / / / /| | | || | \_\ \ | | / /_/ / | | | || | __ \ \___ | | / __ / | | | || | | | \ __\ | | / / / / | | | || | | | \ \ | | / / / / | |_| || |__| | \ \____ | | /_/ /_/ O \___/O \____/ O _\_____\_O | | /_ | / \ | | Hellfire's Ultimate Grappling / / | [] | | | \\Excitement Version 2.0.// |___\O \__/ | |--------------------------------------------| | Now in glorious on-line 720p, 16X9 HD! | '--------------------------------------------' *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Fade in on the studio, and Harvey "DJ Har-V" Jenkins. That's right; no Barney.] DJHV: Hey everybody out there in internetland, this is DJ Har-V and I'm doin' more than just spinnin' da tunes tonight. Our illustrious leader, original HUGE owner and current manager under SSN ownership, Barney Johnson, is back in town just enough for us to be back in business! I bet you're all wondering what the hell has been going on with the HUGE website, what with the no wrestling shows and whatnot. Well, funny thing, the Hellfire's been shut down for a good long time on account of the Health Department shuttin' us down. It's all good now. Anyway, here's part of the update on the sitch in dis hizzy. Kick it! *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Black screen.] TOS (Text On Screen): Before... [Fade in. Noezie Beach is a little nook of paradise hidden in the south coast of South Africa, near Knysna. It's no more than 700m wide, bordered by lush, tree covered hills, mountains and cliffs on all sides, and split in half by a small, picturesque estuary. Best of all, it seems deserted, except for a solitary woman, black haired and shapely, protecting herself from the blazing African sun with a fedora. Serene, she brings her cigar to her lips as she contemplates the ocean waves crashing on the coast line. She addresses the cameraman.] Woman: I gotta tell ya, Kobus. Even prettier than I imagined. [The cameraman, a man named Kobus, responds.] Kobus: Ag, we used to sneak down here when I was little, hey? Woman: I can understand why. The whole area is just mind blowing. Can't believe this is where you grew up. Kobus: No, we weren't rich enough to live in Knysna, Penny. We... Hey, who's that rockin' up, 'ere? [Kobus pans to film the arrival of a mud-caked, disheveled and haggard man in rags and tatters, approaching Penny, extenuated and spent. Noticing the camera, he desperately approaches.] Man: Hey, hey, buddy! You American? I... [Trailing off, the man jerks his head around, paranoid, looking for someone.] Man: I don't know where I am. I was in Estonia, scouting talent for this damned corporation I work for, and some guys snatched me up! Skinny, nasty mean guys, didn't speak English. You speak English, right? Kobus: Ag, I speak English, I'm a Caapie, china. [Dashing up to the camera, he grabs the one holding it. Closer now, it's clear that the man's caked in filth as would be a miner or sewer worker. It's mud, dust, or possibly something much worse. And ... he looks strangely familiar.] Man: They had a translator and he told me to mine diamonds! I hacked at the rock until I collapsed every day! I had to escape! They said one more day of no diamonds and they'd slit my throat! Kobus: Diamonds? No diamonds anywhere close, 'ere, china. Diamonds well up north. Penny: Wait... did this guy say Estonia? Man: What? They had me looking for nothing!? I mean, I don't wanna be a slave anyway, but I couldn't have succeeded no matter what? Penny: Guy's a loon, Jake. Estonia's, like, north of the Ukraine. We better skip before he turns violent or something... Kobus: Jawelnofine, good luck to you, chommie Man: NO, wait! Please! I can pay, okay, I just don't know where to go! I'm Barney, Barney Johnson! I have a corporate credit card hidden in my ... unmentionables. I can give you a reward! I can get you a job! Ever hear of Strickland Sports Network? I'm a talent scout for them! I mean, you may have to do a little time in HUGE! The farm league. I kinda run it. [Holy crap. It's totally Barney... he's so filthy and bearded... who could have recognized him?] Penny: Strickland? Kobus: I don't know.... BJ: Please. You don't have to do anything you don't wanna do, I can just get you cash, just get me to the Airport! Penny: With the Strickland Sports Network? Like, Phoenix Valley Wrestling and all that jazz? BJ: Yes! Yes! Penny: Maybe we should help this guy out a little. Kobus: No, fixed up, doll. We can make a plan. Penny: You said your name is Barney? BJ: Barney Johnson Penny: You're in good hands, here, Barney. We'll take care of you. You can turn off the camera, Kobus. Kobus: Ag. Penny: You're really going to have to explain how you traveled all the way here, roughly ten thousand miles from Estonia... BJ: I don't know... it was all so confusing... [And as the camera suddenly pans down to the sandy beach, the image turns black.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Studio~!] DJHV: Ain't that freaky? I mean, leave it to Barney to find the one guy in that town with a camera AND he's a wrestler? He told me he approached other people but they were all either scared or hostile, but still, kinda funny. And here's the man behind the camera. If you didn't already watch the new "Chatterbox" show on the site, you might wanna do it now. Y'know, unless you like being surprised by how freakish people look. It's Kobus de Vries taking on the returning Kerry Ryan. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= "Cape Buffalo" Kobus de Vries -vs- "Battletruck" Kerry Ryan =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [In synchronization with the attitude-laden "American Badass" by Kid Rock disrupting the airwaves at extreme volume, a somewhat rotund figure was seen moving into view. Almost as wide as he was tall, the 5' 10", 338lb bald man known simply as "Battletruck" Kerry Ryan limped in his own personalized style towards the ring. A wholly exaggerated scowl sat upon his less than attractive face, while he absent-mindedly groomed his bright red goatee into a spike below his multiple chins. Ryan, wearing an ill fitting bright lime green tank top, jeans of the same shade and heavily scuffed crimson wrestling boots, then stepped into the aforementioned squared circle and duly showed the fans his appreciation of their somewhat favorable reception by flipping a double-fisted "middle finger salute" to all and sundry. Oddly enough, the cheers only grew louder ...] DJHV: There's the Battletruck, the guy what was the biggest bastard (scale-wise) in the old HUGE. Great to see him again, although I worry about the kitchen staff. [Justice's “Genesis” thrashed the basement's speakers and out of the backroom came manager Penny Zadian. She adjusted her fedora and pointed back to the door with her unlit cigar just as “The Cape Buffalo” Kobus de Vries barged out. The enormous South African strongman stomped his way to the ring with all the grace of a bull in a china shop while his comely manager shouted last minute instructions at him, most of which she'd have to repeat again and again throughout the match.] DJHV: Aw man, I don't know what to say about this guy. Already laid out my zingers. Okay, Barney really needs to show up and hit me with a straight line. [When two tough guys clash it is never pretty, and this match was never destined to be a technical affair. However, the contest between "BattleTruck" Kerry Ryan and “The Cape Buffalo” Kobus de Vries had the crowd riveted by way of sheer brutality. Despite lacking the height, weight, and reach advantages of his opponent, Kerry Ryan proved the old adage "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog" to be rather true. Kobus de Vries seemed taken aback initially by the focused and smash-mouth style of "BattleTruck" and early on found himself conferring with manager Penny Zadian on the outside. Despite admonishment from the referee (which was duly ignored, of course), "BattleTruck" launched himself off the ring apron with a daring shoulder tackle. With Penny Zadian all but yelling in the face of the "Cape Buffalo", it looked for a moment like Kerry Ryan's tackle would send him crashing into her as well as his intended target. Luckily Kobus de Vries looked up at just the right moment and managed to pull his manager out of harm's way and take the impact himself.] DJHV: Usually takin' a powder is a good idea, but Kobus ain't doin' it sly-like, and Kerry knows he's gotta bring it. The man knows how to work against a bigger guy. That amazes me, considering that he's way over 300 himself! [To say this lit a fire under the Cape Town, South Africa native was an understatement. "BattleTruck" may not have directly intended to put Penny in the line of fire, but his recklessness seemed to anger de Vries. The pair began brawling on the outside of the ring, much to the delight of the crowd. It took all of Penny Zadian's charms (which included screaming off what sounded like half of her throat lining) to cajole the "Cape Buffalo" back into the ring before the match could be ruled a double countout. Naturally Kerry Ryan was quick to follow, seeming to almost enjoy the brutality that he'd inadvertently brought out in de Vries. The two continued to trade shots back and forth, but it wasn't long before the moves started to get more and more brutal. Driving "BattleTruck" to the corner, de Vries prepared himself for what would have been a devastating "Buffalo Stampede". Kerry Ryan had just enough wherewithal to hear Penny Zadian call for de Vries to hit his trademark Running Corner Splash, and managed to get out of the way in time. The big man was staggered, but it was the crowd who was stunned when "BattleTruck" used the opportunity to deliver a massive back suplex that literally shook the ring!] DJHV: Good God, we don't got a big league ring, man! *BLEEP* the ring for our first show was plywood and mattresses! Another couple of impacts like that, and we'll have to dig that sucker out! ["BattleTruck" came on strongly at this point despite the pummeling he'd been taking from his much larger opponent. His fists seemed to have a life of their own as his mission became clear, keep the big man off his feet, keep him disoriented, and keep him from hearing instruction from Penny Zadian. A clinic in stiff striking was to follow, and although Kerry Ryan's fists were dangerous, it was a pair of expertly placed headbutts that put the "Cape Buffalo" in serious jeopardy. When "BattleTruck" first used a headbutt on the side of the head of Kobus de Vries, the crowd initially thought it was a case of poor aim. However, when they saw Kerry tag him on the opposite side of the head with his second headbutt, they understood. Kerry Ryan had hit de Vries with headbutts aimed at his ears, leaving them ringing and making it harder to follow Penny's instructions!] DJHV: Look at that crap! King size headbutts laid on a king size guy and it's WORKING! This Ryan guy is tougher than I even remember! [More offense from "BattleTruck" followed, and it seemed he had the match sealed up. Clutching at his ears in pain and confusion, it seemed that the "Cape Buffalo" would be easy prey. However, an attempted Thesz Press by Kerry Ryan gave de Vries the opening he needed. He managed to hold his ground (despite the near 350lbs of man crashing into him), twist, and come crashing down with an instinctive belly-to-belly side slam that once again shook the ring and gave him a moment to clear the cobwebs. This shift in momentum was maintained when de Vries (seeing Penny Zadian on the floor shouting and motioning for a maneuver) hauled "BattleTruck" Kerry Ryan skyward, held him in mid air for a breathtaking ten seconds and then crashed down with a mammoth of a Suplex Powerslam. The match now thoroughly under his control, it wasn't long before de Vries would drive home the win with more overwhelming offense, culminating with his Running Powerslam known as die Groot Kragtoeslaan for the three count.] DJHV: And like 800 pounds again, there's the count, and it's a lock! Kobus de Vries wins it, give the man some love! [After the "Cape Buffalo" secured the win, Penny joined her charge in the ring to celebrate and to check on him. With Penny Zadian sitting on his broad shoulder and waving to the crowd, the pair seemed joyous and somewhat relieved after the brutal affair.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Studio again.] DJHV: Can you dig that brutality? I hammed it up a little yeah, but don't sweat it. The ring's fine. See, there's this bigass spring underneath that moves so the ring don't snap in two. But hey, let's keep it movin'. We all heard from Dawson Dupree on Chatterbox, now let's see what the man can do in the ring! *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= "Deus Ex Machismo" Dawson Dupree -vs- Leon Wellsley. =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= ["Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve starts up. Leon Wellsley makes his way out with a cocky smirk on his face. He strides down the ramp, ignoring the belligerent fans around him. He hops on the apron, having to pull himself up a little, before stepping through the ropes and going to his respective corner.] DJHV: He's been pullin' a paycheck for months doin' nothin', but Leon Wellsley is back to lose again! Did I say that? Well, the guy hasn't won yet, so why would almost a year of ring rust change that? [When "Plus Chicker" by Polysics began playing, it took a few moments to pry Dawson Dupree away from the bar area. Apparently the match seemed somewhat less important than having his manager/arm trophy Shuana St. Clair hanging off of him while trying to work his charms on some of the less-fugly ladies in the audience. Naturally Shuana took none of this lying down, shrieking insults and hurling drinks at any of the so-called 'skanks' foolish enough to try and get a duck-faced picture with her man. This behavior would continue in the ring, with Dupree and Wellsley having a brief festival of jawing at one another. The microphone may not have caught the intricate details, but the essentials would not be lost on the Hellfire crowd. Wellsley employed his stinging English wit and condescension, while Dupree countered with a two-pronged assault, flashing a set of ab muscles perfect enough to do laundry on while hurling insults about Wellsley's sexual preferences. Needless to say it had the desired effect, and the pair launched into each other with lefts and rights!] DJHV: Every time I see that Shauna chick, I think of the Shauna from the Simpsons. She loves gettin' the bullies on the show to beat other kids up in exchange for nookie. Near as I can tell, she's about as mean as that chick, just louder. [To the credit of the Manchester native, it didn't take Leon Wellsley to regain his composure and return to what brought him to the dance, his technical skills. Dawson Dupree did not seem fond of trading armdrags and hiptosses with the more technically sound wrestler, but found himself on the receiving end of a surprising number of these maneuvers. This served to frustrate "Deus Ex Machismo" more than wear him down, and after blocking an Irish whip attempt by Wellsley, Dupree seized his chance to short-arm clothesline the smaller man damn near out of his boots!] DJHV: In the bar or in the ring, don't bet on the little dude. And not just if he's a sickly British kid with a track record of losing to garden pests. General rule. [With momentum (and a trashy Guidette) on his side, it didn't take long for Dawson Dupree to assert himself over Leon Wellsley. After pressing Wellsley high over his head and dumping him unceremoniously throat first across the top rope, Dupree continued his trashtalk, this time to the referee. With the ref's attention elsewhere, Shuana St. Clair took the opportunity to get in the face of the Manchester native. Although her offense consisted primarily of screaming in his face, flailing at him with her hands, (and other things almost flailing out of her skimpy outfit in the process), it was effective nonetheless. Once the referee finally turned around and saw what she was up to, he was forced to admonish her (and was thus forced to endure her shouting and shrieking back at him). To an opportunist like Dawson Dupree, this was like winning the Douchebag Lottery. He proceeded to rain low blows down on the groin of Leon Wellsley, starting first with a simple shot to the groin, followed by an additional low blow punch to the man when he was down. This delightful combination was capped off by a brutal falling headbutt directly into Leon Wellsley's groin. Sure, he could have just as easily done a few high-impact moves to achieve a similar effect, but with the ref's back turned it was Nutshot Night at Hellfire's Bar and Grill.] DJHV: Okay, maybe ... just pin him now or something? That'd be great. [Leon Wellsley was in a rough state after this mugging, but there was still fire left in the Englishman. He ducked what would have been an absolutely devastating swinging left-arm lariat (dubbed the "Hookers and Blow!" by Dupree) and countered into a Hangman's Neckbreaker. Kneedrops and well placed elbows came down into Dawson Dupree's neck before he could regain his feet, but it was a followup DDT that really put Leon Wellsley back in the driver's seat. From here, Leon tried a number of maneuvers designed to wear down Dupree, focusing on the man's head and neck. "Deus Ex Machismo" found himself on the receiving end of a particularly stiff European Uppercut, followed by Wellsley's signature "English" legsweep (not that much different than a Russian legsweep, to be honest...but with the British they tend to focus on the subtleties, so we'll just agree and not get a three-hour lecture on the difference, okay?).] DJHV: Unreal! Wellsley's rallyin'! This a leap year? [Wellsley continued his technical assault on Dawson's neck with a series of pinpointed attacks, but he could simply not get Dupree to stay down for a three count. Applying a standing headscissors on Dawson Dupree (a questionable tactic considering Dupree's penchant for low blows), he looked to be setting up for a Tiger Suplex, but Dupree broke out of the double underhook. Dawson Dupree quickly stood to his full height with Wellsley on his back and brought the Englishman crashing down to the mat with a very stiff looking Double Leg Slam. A brief smacktalking session from Dawson Dupree was to follow, culminating with him delivering a snapmare followed by a running kick while Wellsley was still down. Shuana St. Clair's delight at her man's comeback was evident, even as she almost got into an altercation with a fan at ringside.] DJHV: Aw damn, Shauna, don't get us sued girlfriend! [The Devil's Pitchfork was next on the menu, a brutal-looking combination of spinebuster and spear that drive Leon Wellsley to the mat with an almost sickening amount of impact. Not long after, Dawson Dupree put Leon Wellsley away with a leaping Tombstone Piledriver. Now this in and of itself would have been an impressive end to a hard fought match, but this is Dawson Dupree we're talking about here. "Deus Ex Machismo" felt it necessary to tack on a little unnecessary hip thrusting prior to the delivery of this most devastating finisher. The fact that the leaping Tombstone was named "The Teabag" was surely coincidental. After all, the English like tea, don't they? Perhaps we can say that Dawson Dupree was just trying to reach across cultural boundaries and social norms? Please?] DJHV: Aw, God, I actually feel bad for Leon. Gonna have to pour the boy a stout or somethin'. Anyway, the count is done, it's in the books, and Dawson Dupree gets his first win in HUGE! *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: The only thing about Dawson there is that he could've win that match in like 2 minutes and gotten on with the rest of his night. That's good and bad, 'cause, well, bad for Wellsley who's probably hurt but good for Dawson who made one hell of an impact with this match. Anyway... *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [The time: noon-ish? Afternoon? Something like that or whatever. The place: Barney Johnson's house. The situation: various bits of excrement on the outer walls, a few passed out teenage girls, bottles of various substances everywhere and a wrecked car through one of the windows. Inside is even worse but we go to the master bathroom where Preston Mayfield is sleeping with the water running, an umbrella hat on his head and some blonde floozy draped over his lap. Preston barely wakes up and shoves the floozy off of him, revealing that he has somehow won a championship belt (from some placed called Donkey Punch wrestling) and our hopped up hero turns off the water in the shower and we hear a peeing sound as the camera changes to the bathroom door opening.] BJ: PRESTON! [The Mayfield is back in view and he is hopping up and down.] PM: Barney? Is that you! BJ: Preston! Just what the hel... Who's that? (points to the floozy) What about Cindy? [Mayfield is still attired in that championship belt.] PM: I think sodomy takes too much out of her; she's sleeping in a puddle of various fluids on your bed with a few other people. She was tired last night so we only had 11 or 12 folks over for a bring your own *BLEEP* buddy and nacho night. BJ: ... [Mayfield looks down in the shower/bath and reaches for something.] PM: Oh, hey, I missed a call from Harv... (Preston puts the phone back between the passed out lass's butt cheeks.) Great place to keep your phone or heroin, sake's alive! [Silently, Barney walks to a corner of the room, clears away the garbage over it. Pulling up a floorboard, he removes a book. A fake bible is removed, and a handgun is removed from said bible. Dropping the bible, the haggard, half-dead HUGE boss closes his eyes, lets his head droop down, and fights to remain calm. That all goes to hell, as he screams out loud.] BJ: *BANG* Everybody ... GET THE *BLEEP* OUT OF MY *BLEEP*ING HOUSE!!! *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG* [Of course Barney has shot into the ceiling but he has disturbed some of the less "dead" party remnants.] Floozy: Preston... please, no more headboard... [Barney isn't listening as he is raging at the moment.] BJ: Out OUT OUT OUT!!! [As the floozy tries to get up from the puddle of assorted fluids in the tub, she bumps her head into the Mayfield family jewels. Of course Preston, ever the gentleman, punches the girl in the face before he slips and hits his head on the tub.] PM: Damn it, you whore... ow... ow... great... ow... I think BJ: God damn it Preston! (Barney's near tears) I survived hell and worse to come back here; my only shred of hope being my house and my bar. Those thoughts kept me alive while I was beaten by Kije and his diamond mining ruffians that snatched me up in Estonia... PM: Kije? [Preston sounds half knocked out or basically fully aware] I thought the guy's name was Abayomi. I told him to send the ransom demand straight to Strickland and have you on a plane to Jersey within a week. Hell, SSN paid your ran... [Barney Johnson's tired, haggard eyes turn red as many blood vessels pop thanks to the amount of rage he is feeling.] BJ: YOU WHAT?! YOU GOT ME KIDNAPPED AND SENT TO A DIAMOND MINE? WHAT THE *BLEEP* IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU PIECE OF GARBAGE!? [Barney is hyperventilating while the floozy is naked at his feet. Preston is looking up at Barney and half laughing, half trying not to vomit.] PM: Hey, I told them to feed you once every three weeks man; I got your back. It isn't my fault the kidnappers messed up and sent us the wrong person. You can't exactly return to sender... [Johnson is pacing back and forth when ACWA fans (all 3 of you left) would be happy to recognize good ole Jenna McDougal, clad in a horse's outfit making a brief cameo of coming through the door way, seeing the situation and exiting stage left. Barney doesn't notice as he is currently choking the Mayfield.] BJ: I - hate - you - so - hard. PM: [gasping] Barney, SSN did ransom you but they got the wrong person... some Kenyan chick named Ola... she's here no... [As the Mayfield passes out thanks to Barney's choking, we see a naked, nubian Goddess appear in the doorway. She's wearing a (pixelated) strap-on, candle wax on her nipples and a Tracy Hudson mask. This is obviously Ola, if you didn't see this coming.] Ola: Preston, are you ready for round two with me on top this ti... oh hello, who are you? *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Studio. Harvey has a grin on his face that's so stiff and so fake that he looks like a leper. Next to him, looking incredibly annoyed, is a much cleaned up Barney Johnson. He looks good! His brown hair is highlighted by the sun and his skin is bronzed but he looks absolutely miserable so, obviously, this isn't a case of Metrosexuality meets tanning bed.] DJHV: Look everyone we've been joined by the big boss himself! BJ: Harvey. DJHV: So, hey, you, uh, see that I figured out the video editor? Pretty awesome? BJ: Impressive. DJHV: Well, y'know, checks from SSN kept comin' in, so I figure I could either jeopardize the best gig I ever had and party it away or I could learn a new skill, dig? BJ: Oh yeah. I dig. DJHV: So pretty sweet, eh? BJ: Sweet. [His monotone is ever so creepy, ain't it?] BJ: Harvey, you wouldn't happen to know exactly _who_ gave a copy of my house key to Preston *BLEEPING* Mayfield, would you? [Wow, have you ever seen a man sweat so heavily so quickly?] DJHV: Hey, Barney, live editing remember? Speak of the Devil we got Preston taking on Tre Jordan! This is the second time they've fought! You remember what happened last time? *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= Tre Jordan -vs- Preston Mayfield =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Down to the ring. Mayfield enters first, getting a mixed reception with those cheering definitely putting out more effort in their applause. The ultimate pervert rolls into the ring just as Tre Jordan comes out. "Plowed" hits the PA system and the fans actually get behind the young man from Canada. He comes through the curtains to a good deal of applause. The beard from earlier is gone, though there are three or four little Band-Aids on his face, which Occam's razor would point to shaving mishaps. Behind him, with his trusty cane, is Billy "Mac" McWilliams, the blind personal assistant/Jedi Master for Jordan. The Canadian cruiserweight, by the way, is dressed in a pair of green tights with black running down the sides. In the blackness, Jordan's last name is written in green, cascading down on both sides. His short blonde hair is combed up as he heads toward the ring, McWilliams in his nice suit behind him.) DJHV: I heard Tre's been back on the meth down in chemical valley. Fresh outta rehab. BJ: Back? Christ, what is it about this region that drives people to drugs? DJHV: Don't ask me, man. But y'know, this kinda puts him and Preston on the same level ... dunno if that's good or bad though. [Mayfield blows a snot rocket in Tre's general direction, the bell rings and immediately runs toward Preston Mayfield, who ducks out of the ring just as quick. Fans heckle Mayfield, who seems more interested in them than Jordan. But Jordan reacquaints himself with a springboard cross body over the top ropes onto Mayfield, tumbling both to the unforgiving concrete floor.] BJ: Good lord, what a start! DJHV: He mad in the eyes, Barn! He's gonna kill Preston! [Putting the boots to Mayfield, Tre pulls him up and tosses him into the ring. Coming up, Preston hangs his neck across the top rope, then staggers away as Tre enters. Mayfield drops a boot to the midsection of the downed Jordan, who curls away. Using the ropes, he begins to clamor to his feet. Mayfield comes toward him and meets a boot to the stomach. Another boot to the stomach keeps Mayfield at bay before Jordan springs off the rope with a left, a right, and another left. Mayfield is reeling and Jordan finally reaches into his playbook as he turns around and hits a standing moonsault, bringing the bar to its feet and bringing Mayfield crashing to the canvas.] DJHV: Jordan's on fire, man! But Preston's got the hose to douse that flame! BJ: Five minutes in and already you've said something inappropriate. DJHV: We're actually about 45 minutes in Barn. You just got here, I've been here all day. [Cut to later in the match. Mayfield has the advantage; biting the webbing between Tre's fingers. The referee threatens DQ, but Preston sloughs him off and delivers a sloppy kneedrop before attempting a cover.] BJ: 2-count! And Jordan is reeling! [Strangling Tre for a 4-count, Mayfield pulls him to his feet, but Tre brushes Preston's hands away and starts pummeling him with right hands! After 10 of those, Preston gouges Tre's eyes, then clip tackles the back of Jordan's knee, after which he grabs Tre's leg and drops down into a sloppy kneebar.] DJHV: It's the Preston Mayfield Manifesto! BJ: The what? Mayfield's doing a wrestling move? DJHV: Man, I knew he could wrestle. [Again, it's sloppy.] DJHV: Leroy in the kitchen owes me five bucks. BJ: I have to imagine that, were he not rusty, Jordan would be able to escape this hold rather easily. [Struggling, Jordan makes it to the ropes. Both men stand. Mayfield hits a clothesline and looks quite pleased with himself. But Jordan rises from the canvas as if he was double the size he is. Jordan turns around Mayfield and sends him reeling with a punch of the closed fist variety, which catches the ref's attention. That distraction allows Mayfield to come back with a low blow. Cut to later in the match. Jordan is getting worked over in the corner until Mayfield tries to toss him to the opposite corner. Jordan uses his superior athletic ability to turn the tide and send Mayfield toward the corner. He runs toward the corner, going for a spear, but hits nothing but ringpost as Mayfield again moves.] BJ: Mayfield's really having to work for his lunch money today. DJHV: What? See, Barn, comments like that are why you can't get through the third date with a girl. [Pulling Tre back, Mayfield tosses him into the ropes, then misses a clothesline on the rebound. Again, a third time, and finally Tre drops Mayfield with a one-handed bulldog! Jordan is feeling confident and goes for the top rope as Mayfield sits exhausted in the ring. Jordan has trouble climbing the ropes, getting his foot caught twice before getting to the top and sizing up Mayfield. He nearly loses his balance, before leaping with an awful display of a Frog Splash. Mayfield had rolled away as soon as Jordan jumped.] BJ: Both men down! This is really dramatic! [Getting to his feet first, Mayfield goes for a DDT--] DJHV: Here it comes! The Mayfield Industrial Complex! [--which Jordan counters with a Northern Lights Suplex.] DJHV: D'oh! [Huffing, puffing, both men lay still for a second, when suddenly Tre Jordan kips up! The fans go nuts as he ascends the top rope!] BJ: Unbelievable! He started out rusty but now he's shiny and new! Tre Jordan is gonna fly! [Suddenly, somehow missed by the camera, Mayfield's partner in crime "Twinkletoes" Tiwilliger is climbing the ringsteps near Jordan. Mayfield grabs the referee, screaming about some kind of pain in his knee and pulling him down. Jordan kicks Tiwilliger in the face repeatedly but the "King of the Cruiserweights doesn't budge. The "cruiserweight" (more like superheavyweight) absorbs the blows, then hits an overhand smack to Jordan's chest that sends him tumbling into the ring!] BJ: NO! Mayfield's getting up! Ref, look at the fat bastard who just hopped to the floor! DJHV: There it is! Industrial Complex by my man Mayfield! *DING!* *DING!* *DING!* [Leaving through the crowd to avoid detection, Tiwilliger doesn't realize he's left his friend to the wolves. As he celebrates his win, Mayfield gets clocked from behind by Jordan and falls through the ropes to the floor. Sliding to the outside, Jordan stomps the piss out of Mayfield before being handed (~!) a chair by a fan! This momentary break is enough for Mayfield to get to his feet and flee, however, Jordan in hot pursuit.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* BJ: Unbelievable. Preston Mayfield once again able to escape relatively unscathed. DJHV: Hey, he worked for his "lunch money", remember? You said so yourself. BJ: Mayfield's only lost one match in HUGE and that's to his partner Tiwilliger. He threw that one! How is this man so untouchable? You know that when I called Strickland's office they were friendly until I said I was gonna complain about Mayfield? They lost the call and now when I dial it says they're "not accepting calls from this number"! Is that any way to run a business!? DJHV: Apparently. Strickland Media Corporation is worth like 30 Billion bucks or something last I knew. BJ: Grr... *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* 'Employees Only' [We open to that sign hanging on a worn out door. The swinging door slowly opens as we follow the camera man in. The room to put it nicely… is a dump. The walls are a stained yellow, just begging for a fresh coat of paint. Chairs are a disorganized chaos everywhere, while gym bags and wrestling attire hang off old hooks and under benches. It seems we have entered the ‘dressing-room’ for the H.U.G.E. Nobody is around except everyone’s favorite ‘Bar Bitch’, Cindy Hewitt. As always, the big, but sexy Cindy is dripping with sex appeal. Even though she is bigger than most cruiserweights, the way she carries herself just makes her sexy. She stands in the middle of the room with a microphone in hand.] CH: Hello everyone, as you can see I’m in the dump they call a dressing room here in Hellfires Bar & Grill. I was supposed to have an interview with… MDV: WOOF! WOOF! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! [Cindy is interrupted by the barking and crazy laugh from off camera. Our curiosity of who it could be doesn’t last long as H.U.G.E’s newest signing, ‘Mad Dog’ Valentine steps into view. What a sight it is too! Valentine is decked out in zebra patterned wrestling pants [spandex style], dark red wrestling boots with white tassels around the top, a yellow bandana on his left wrist, a light green on the right and a white elbow pad on the same arm. Badly dyed blonde hair is cut short on the front and sides but shoulder length at the back, his stubbly beard is black, yet his chin goatee is dyed blonde as well. Thick, white framed 80’s style sunglasses cover his eyes while a zebra patterned bandana around his head finishes off the look. To put it plainly- this guy looks like he just walked out of a 1980’s time warp! Cindy Hewitt doesn’t seem to like the get up either as ‘Mad Dog’ steps up beside her. She looks disgusted to say the least but Valentine doesn’t seem to notice as he is a ball of high energy.] MDV: AH HAHA I’LL TELL YA WHAT BAY-BEE! IT FEELS GOOD TO BE IN H.U.G.E! [Hrm. It seems ‘Mad Dog’ is a rather loud talker. So to save your eyes and mine, we will pretend that whatever he says is in caps like he is talking loud except for his barking mmkay.] CH: Well don’t get to excited there Mad Dog. Tonight you are going to face the biggest cruiserweight in the World, Twinkletoes Tiwilliger. MDV: WOOF WOOF! You hit the nail right on the head baby! When I first came to HUGE, I told them, give me the biggest and baddest dude ya got cause I feel like brawling! I want you to put me in the ring with an animal just like me. I want a guy who could seriously hurt me if... CH: Whoa, whoa whoa, wait. Why would you ask management to put you in the ring with somebody who could potentially end your career before it even starts here? MDV: [mad laugh] Cause that is the way I like it bay-bee! I want everyone in HUGE to know that I don’t fear anybody! I want everyone to know that I didn’t come here to pitter pat around babe, I came here to take on the best! Sure, I could have signed with some glitzy federation with the pretty lights and state of the art music and video trons. I could have sold foam fingers and t-shirts. But this [points at the floor] is where ‘Mad Dog’ Valentine belongs baby. I needed a place where I could be let off my leash and run wild! I needed a place where guys wore their scars with pride instead of carrying around mirrors making sure they look good for television! [It has to be noted that while Mad Dog is talking, his arms are flailing around as he does so because he is a very animated guy.] |
| And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~! | |
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| Mozeart | Oct 12 2010, 11:32 PM Post #2 |
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
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MDV: So you bring out that big, nasty five hundred pounder, Twinkletoes Twilliger! [crazy laugh] You bring the biggest cruiserweight down to that ring. But I want him to know that he is in for the fight of his career! I don’t want any excuses when I pick him up and slam him to the mat. I don’t want to hear the excuses when I make him a crimson mess! All I want is him at his best! CH: I’m sorry, did you say ‘slam’? MDV: You got that right baby! CH: I’m sorry, but you are going to try and body slam five hundred pounds plus of Twinkletoes Twilliger? MDV: [mad laugh] Girl, you're cute but you don’t listen well do ya?! That is exactly what I said bay-bee! Tonight is when I begin my path to the HUGE title! Tonight I will show everyone what this dog can do! But more then that, tonight I will show Twinkletoes Twilliger what it feels like to be slammed in the middle of that ring! It’s almost bell time bay-bee- I goota go! WOOF! WOOF! [Valentine barks in her face, then takes a step off camera as Cindy looks disgusted and confused.] CH: There you have it… um… back to you guys! *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: Is “back to you” becoming her catchphrase? BJ: I don't think so. It seems too basic and universal to be owned by anyone. DJHV: I'm just saying, she says it a lot. BJ: Moving on... Lets send this to the back again where our lovely interviewer Cindy Hewitt is standing by to interview "The King of the Cruiserweights" Twinkletoes Tiwilliger. DJHV: You don't have to say it like that Barn. I'm pretty sure everybody knows we ain't _actually_ live. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* CH: Thanks Barney, yes it is I, the lovely but lethal Cindy "Bar Bitch" Hewitt. With me now is [rolls her eyes] ..."The King of the Cruiserweights" Twinkletoes Tiwilliger. (sighs) So Twinkletoes what have you been up to since we last saw you? Twinkletoes: Well Cindy, Twinkletoes has been away for a long time, away from the Hellfire, away from the ring, and more importantly away from his fans. It has been far too long since I have had the pleasure of putting on a show for my devoted legions! [For no reason Twinkletoes puts his arm around Cindy, Cindy looks at the arm on her shoulder, and fights the urges to simultaneously hit him and throw up. Instead she tries to force a smile and she bites down on her lip.] Twinkletoes: Oh Cindy, sweet sweet Cindy. How I have yearned to wow them with a display of pure wrestling and gravity defying aerial maneuvers that only The King of the Cruiserweights is capable of executing! I've not heard the raucous enthusiasm, the roar of approval from my fans or the chants of my name for so long, I can't remember! CH: ummm Yeah, its really has been a long time because I can't remember the fans doing any of that either. [Laughter breaks out in the bar upstairs.] Twinkletoes: Ahh I hear the sound of laughter. The sounds of joy have returned to this place now that their hero is back. But for a while Cindy, I thought those sounds would not return. There was a time when I thought the Hellfire would not open and HUGE would be but a memory. Because of this Cindy, I succumbed to doubt and surrendered to despair. I become a hopeless case and wallowed in my own self pity! [Twinkletoes has a small frown on his face.] Cindy (scrunching her nose): Well I believe you've been wallowing in something. [Mutters to herself.] Oh *BLEEP* it I'll play along ... so Twinkletoes, what did you do to snap out it? Twinkletoes: Well Cindy, I had been sitting at home laying around and eating maybe more than I should. I looked in the mirror and noticed I was starting to get a little fat and out of shape. Cindy (bites down on her lip even harder to force back a fit of laughter): You, fat? I ... just ... can't ... imagine. Twinkletoes: I know its hard to believe a body like this could ever plump up, but its true. I looked in that mirror and saw a man I didn't recognize. More importantly I saw a man that gave up. I was a man that gave up on my career, my life, but more importantly my fans. It was then I realized I couldn't go on like this, I could not let my fans down. These people worship me, they live vicariously through me. When i'm living the dream they are living it with me. I was determined to change my situation, to get back into shape and pray to the big guy for a miracle that HUGE would somehow reopen, so I could regain the respect and love of the Twinkletoed nation. And thankfully that miracle came about and here I am! I'm back and ready to experience the delirious levels of love that they have for their eternal underdog, their King of the Cruiserweights. Excuse me (sniff), I have something in my eye. (Twinkletoes pulls a handkerchief out of his tights and wipes his moist eyes. Some in the bar let out a halfhearted awe in a sarcastic show of sympathy.) CH: Well I think you're having a delirious experience right now. So what do you think of your match with your opponent "Mad Dog" Valentine? Twinkletoes: Once again, the odds are stacked against me. HUGE has sent another giant my way, to try to break me, so I will leave the company. And why? Because of jealousy, because I humiliate the rest of the roster. I face the biggest opponents and suffer the hardest beatings because no other guy here has a physique like me. CH: Yes that's right, nobody has a physique like you Twinkletoes. Twinkletoes: But just like before, I will go in that ring the underdog and emerge the victor with a mixture, of skill, determination, luck, and most importantly with the support of all my fans. I'm never alone in that ring, it doesn't matter if i'm in a tag match with my partner and moral compass of HUGE, Preston Mayfield or if i'm in singles competition. When I go in that ring I go with the strength and support of all my Twinkies and together we are unbeatable. I'm up against a Valentine, but he's up against a heart, the heart of the fans in HUGE. LET ME FEEL YOUR HEARTS BEATING MY TWINKIES!!! [Twinkletoes raises his arms out and tries to let out a big yell but it turns into a loud disgusting belch. Twinkletoes then walks out of frame. Cindy is left standing there with a look of bewilderment.] CH: Twinkletoes Tiwilliger, fighting for his "Twinkies". Back to you Barney. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: She said it again! Only this time she didn't talk to both of us. BJ: Harvey, these pieces are actually pre-recorded. You know that. DJHV: In what way does that contradict what I said? BJ: I... DJHV: What? BJ: I'm sorry, I'm just stunned. You're not usually that articulate. DJHV: Arty what? BJ: [Sighing deeply.] Let's send it down to the ring to see what happens when a big dog hits a giant wall of delusional fat. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= “Mad Dog” Valentine -vs- “The King of the Cruiserweights” Twinkletoes Tiwilliger. =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= DJHV: Yo, here be dat dawg dude. ['Bang Your Head' begins to pound as 'Mad Dog' Valentine steps out wearing his zebra pattern wrestling tights [pants style], red boots with white trim and white tassles. He claps his hands together at the crowd, his wrists covered with a yellow bandana [left] and a light green bandana right]. A white elbow pad on his right elbow finishes of the look except for the trademark white framed sunglasses of course!'Mad Dog' barks at the ceiling as he hits the ring. He rolls in under the bottom rope, swirls around in true Hollywood glam style before barking at the crowd at ringside. He takes off his beloved shades and hands them to the ringside help as the music fades.] DJHV: An' he be fighting this Twinklefat guy! ["Pump up the Jam" by Technotronic begins to play over the speakers. Up from The Dungeon onto the entrance way emerges Twinkletoes Tiwilliger. Twinkletoes comes down to the ring in what might be described in the loosest definition of the term dancing. He is doing hip swivels and pelvic thrusts in tune to the music. He also comes to the ring with a triple patty cheeseburger in one hand, and a giant turkey leg in the other, takings bites out of both items in alternating fashion. He eventually makes his way to the ring as the camera pans the crowd who have mixed looks of disdain,puzzlement and nausea. Twinkletoes enters the ring and does a very slow uncoordinated form of the running man dance, that is more noticeable for the amount of flesh it causes to jiggle than for the lack of technique demonstrated in its execution. Twinkletoes concludes his dancing by holding up the remnants of the burger and turkey leg and letting out a belch, at least 15 seconds in duration, that echoes throughout the building, broken only by the sounds of the crowd jeering and the sounds of possible retching from those in attendance] DJHV: I kin smell dat fat guy from here; he likely got some food trapped in dem folds. BJ: *pouring some whiskey out* Who cares... [Valentine begins to bark at Twinkletoes and Twilliger fans his face, shirking back from supposedly bad breath. Valentine starts running around the ring, weaving in and out of the grasp of Twinkletoes. Finally, after almost a minute of cat and mouse, Valentine delivers a kick to the gut of the "King of the Cruisers" but Twinkletoes just looks at him funny. Valentine follows up with a couple of forearms to the chest, another kick to the stomach, a shoulder block and eye gouge. Twinkletoes is stunned! Valentine presses the attack but the King of the Cruisers throws out a "Twinkling Mist"! Valentine is disgusted and dry heaving. Twilliger wipes his forehead, obviously a bit winded, and pulls out a ham sandwich and eats it in two bites!] DJHV: Dat sammich looks damn soggy! That man is disgusting, yo! BJ: You're *CENSORED* white! [Valentine, regaining his senses, begins to move in an attempt to outflank the eating Twinkletoes. A running knee to the side gets the big man's attention as it causes him to spit out part of the sandwich. Twinkletoes grabs the face of Valentine and tosses him to the corner. Valentine doesn't back down and delivers a big shoulder charge, pushing TT at least half a step. However, all this does is let TT put his weight on the upper body of Valentine, shoving him down to the mat. TT picks up Valentine and tosses him back on the mat. This fires up Valentine and the two end up just beating each other with rights and lefts before TT clobbers Valentine with a clothesline, then, while Valentine is prone on the mat, Twilliger steps on Valentine, which causes everyone to groan.] DJHV: HOLY *CENSORED*! I just seen a whale walk! BJ: Your mother is visiting? [Instead of just writhing in pain, Mad Dog, well, begins to froth at the mouth. The referee begins to wonder if Mad Dog is having a stroke/heart attack/anal fissure but MDV just shoots up and headbutts Twinkle in the face. Again, and again, and again. TT is staggered. Another head butt then a whole bunch of barks. Mad Dog is living up to his name as he riles up the fans. Not to let the momentum stop, Mad Dog goes for a bodyslam on the giant!] DJHV: Dawg gonna kill himself! BJ: *CENSORED*! I don't have the insurance for this! STOP! DJHV: Maybe we kin bury him back whe... BJ: Shut up Harvey! [MDV, still straining, says "*CENSORED* this and headbutts TT again, to daze the man. Mad Dog yells to audience: "GIMME A MOTHER *CENSORED* BEER!" and a fan obliges by tossing him a long neck. Mad Dog pops the top and takes a huge swig before pouring some over himself and the almost recovered Twinkletoes's face, blinding the big man as MDV rushes for another body slam attempt. From out of the kitchen comes a man in a maitre d' outfit, with stereotypical French moustache and black, slick backed hair. Valentine has TT up by about an inch, and you can hear him straining. MDV yells "COME ON MOTHER*CENSORED* and finally, gets Twinkletoes up in the body slam positon. The referee, trying to pay attention to two things at once, trips over his own feet. Mad Dog slams the living hell out of the big Twinkletoes, causing the ring to move at least an inch and, unfortunately for our referee, burying the official under 500 pounds of Twinky loved flesh. The referee lets loose the most audible cry of anguish and Mad Dog stumbles backwards, obviously winded. For a few seconds, it seems as though Twinkletoes has gone on to meet his maker but the wafting odors of his favorite artery clogging food rouses the giant. A loud: "GIMME THAT FROGGY CRAP!" alerts everyone that Twinkletoes has managed to man up. Re-invorgrated, Twinkletoes, snatches the food out of the French guy's hand, it looks like a grocery bag stuffed with French cuisine.] DJHV: THA SHIP IS SINKING! HAR-V AND LAY-DEEZ FIRST! *Harvey hides under the desk* BJ: I don't have the money to fix the bar! [As Valentine gets up to his feet, he shakes his head as he witnesses the horrific sight of Twinkletoes ripping apart foil swans and the last struggles for air of the poor referee. Then, stumbling out of the back at a speed unlike anything we've ever seen from him before, Preston Mayfield gets into the ring and clobbers the distracted Valentine with a giant black dildo. Dragging the now knocked out Valentine over to one of the giant legs of Double T, Preston motions for a man in a referee's outfit in the audience to make a 3 count.] BJ: Good lord, why!? [Twinkletoes is announced as winner. People throw stuff into the ring. Anything edible is snatched up and taken to the back. It's a sad, terrible scene.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: And the good guys win again! BJ: That was a travesty. My lord, why? DJHV: Hey Barn, best be careful, you gotta be positive or the big boys at SSN might demote you or some *BLEEP*. BJ: Oh forgive me! I'm not peppy my first day back from slavery! What a mortal sin! *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Fade in to the interior of Hellfire's Bar and Grill. Judging by the light from the doors as they open, it's about noon. And judging by the two guys coming through the door, some people could be in for a long night.] CALI: You're really serious about this, aren't you? [Indeed, the self-proclaimed Freak himself has come to Portsmouth. Caliban is dressed in his travelling gear, which means a pair of worn-in jeans and a black t-shirt, with a long oilskin trenchcoat over it. His once long mop of red hair has been shorn down to a tight buzzcut, making the scars on his head that much more visible. He looks around the joint in dismay. His companion visibly winces, as seems to have hoped for a better first impression] SABBATH: Ah... it grows on you... [Sabbath, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that just reads "meh," brushes his longish hair out of his eyes. Clapping Caliban on the shoulder, the "Walking Contradiction" grins and grabs a booth. Caliban sighs and joins him.] CALI: So, tell me again why this is such a good idea? SABBATH: Well look man. How long has it been since you've been in the ring? CALI: Did you hit your head or something? Tokyo. Korakuen Hall. King of the Crimson Sun Tournament. Is any of this ringing a bell? SABBATH: Yeah, yeah, I still can't sit properly after our match, but I mean before that. [Caliban looks down, grumbling.] SABBATH: Right, that's my point. No one's saying you don't have what it takes, Cali...but c'mon. I know you kept in shape, but there's a difference between hitting the gym and hitting the mat, y'know? [A rather worn-out looking middle-aged waitress comes by, plunking a pair of tacky looking menus down in front of the pair.] WAITRESS: Get ya's anything to drink? SABBATH: Jack and... [He looks at Cali and realizes putting him behind the wheel would not be the best idea.] SABBATH: ... just a coke, thank you. WAITRESS: And you, sir? CALI: Hrm... [The waitress shifts uncomfortably under Caliban's predatory gaze. He's got that look in his evil green eyes that says, "I like my women like I like my coffee...ground up and in the freezer".] CALI: Club soda. Twist of lime. [The waitress scoots, not liking the looks the Freak is giving her.] SABBATH: What, no Jolt? I hear it comes in orange now. CALI: [BLEEP!] you. SABBATH: Jesus Cali, lighten up man. [He massages his temples, trying to be patient.] SABBATH: Alright... just... work with me here... you want to have people to rely on... you want friends... you've got to... you've got to interact, build up that trust. CALI: ... SABBATH: You know, to build a rapport? CALI: ... SABBATH: Tell you what. Why don't we start simple. Look at the menu. What do you want for lunch? CALI: The heart of an enemy? SABBATH: ... [Caliban manages an awkward smile.] CALI: What? I thought it was funny. [Sabby forces a grin in return.] SABBATH: Okay, it's a start...but remember what we talked about? [Caliban looks down.] CALI: mumblemumblemumble. SABBATH: I'm sorry, what was that? CALI: No blood feuds. SABBATH: Right. Not for a while, anyway. But seriously, look through the menu. Let's see what's good here. [The Freak picks his menu up in his stiff and gnarled hands. He fumbles through the pages for a moment. There is an awkward, awkward silence between the two.] SABBATH: (in hushed tones) Caliban? You...you -can- read, right? [Caliban slaps his menu to the table, glaring at Sabbath.] CALI: OF COURSE I CAN READ! SABBATH: Okay! Okay! I'm just asking... [Exasperated, Caliban picks his menu back up, not without considerable effort.] CALI: (grumbling) years in Catholic school fer Chrissake...studied Shakespeare... (mumbled, mocking impression of Sabbath) 'you -can- read, right?' ...mumblegrumblegrumble... [He returns to his struggle to fumble through the pages with his deformed hands.] CALI: Jesus, do they have anything that's not deep fried? [Sabby cocks an eyebrow, not understanding the question.] SABBATH: Is there any other kind of food? [A different waitress returns with their drinks. This one looks as old as dirt.] OTHER WAITRESS: Club soda and lime, and a coke. D'you want some lunch? [Sabby turns to the waitress, flashing her his best "I'm a cheapskate and want something free, so I'm willing to flirt with you" smile.] SABBATH: Hey doll, we're part of... *ahem*... we are the show tonight... we get ours on the house, right? OTHER WAITRESS: If you've got a match tonight you can get a free entree afterwards. No free lunches. SABBATH: Damn, worth a try though. I'll have the double bacon cheese Hellburger and fries, please. OTHER WAITRESS: And for you? [Caliban looks up once more, this time into the face of the wrinkled old maid. His gaze is still the kind to make mothers wonder where their children are. The woman is practically made of stone, and unfazed by the Freak. It's obvious she's been around wrestlers before.] CALI: (purring) Mmmmmmmmmeat. SABBATH: Caliban...can you be more specific for the nice lady, please? She's got an awfully hard job. CALI: Oh, I'd love to. [He looks down at the menu once more.] CALI: This Hellfire Steak...can I get that with a salad instead of french fries? [He looks up at her once again, grinning like a shark. Still she is unfazed.] OTHER WAITRESS: Sure hon. Garden or Caesar? CALI: Garden. Please. OTHER WAITRESS: (with all the emotion of a woman reading a phone book) Ranch, blue cheese, Italian, Catali- CALI: No dressing. Please. OTHER WAITRESS: And how do you want your steak? CALI: Light a match under it while it's still mooing? SABBATH: Cali... OTHER WAITRESS: We don't do 'blue' rare hon, the closest we can do is rare. [Caliban nods.] CALI: Thank you, that will be fine. [The waitress finishes scribbling the order and shuffles off.] SABBATH: See? Now that wasn't so bad, was it? CALI: But I still don't understand...why don't we go back up North? [Sabbath sighs. It's obvious he's had to explain this to Caliban multiple times now.] SABBATH: What happens when you go up there? CALI: Well-- SABBATH: No! No no no. We both know what happens. HE kills you. And since I'm with you, he kills me too. I don't know about you, but I don't have a death wish. [Sabbath chuckles.] SABBATH: Well, not at the moment, anyways. Now, if you want to go up North later, once you're in top form? Be my guest, at that point I won't be able to stop you. But for now, we should focus on making you better than you've ever been, both in and out of the ring. So who are you fighting tonight? [Caliban looks down.] SABBATH: Caliban...you did talk to Jack Britain, right? CALI: mumblemumblesurprisemumble. SABBATH: I'm sorry, what? Surprise what? CALI: He figured I wanted to make my debut a surprise, so he didn't put me in a match. SABBATH: Well no offense big guy, but you usually do tend to go for a dramatic entrance. CALI: Yeah, I know... SABBATH: I mean, c'mon... The Baltic, back in Tokyo? With the BDSM gear? That was pretty crazy, right? CALI: Well yeah, but... SABBATH: And didn't you dress up as a lizard or something once? CALI: (grumbling) It was a chameleon. SABBATH: All I'm sayin' is you can't fault the guy for thinking you're gonna be a drama queen, man. He probably thinks you're gonna just run in and destroy somebody midmatch. It'd totally be your style. CALI: Yeah, but-- SABBATH: Listen, I bet there's still time. Call him up, tell him you want to work a straight up match. I'm sure he'll put you on the card against -somebody-! CALI: Yeah, yeah...well, who did you get? SABBATH: I'm wrestling?!? When did this happen? I thought I was just star pow... [Catching the glare from Cali, he quickly looks over at the ad for tonight's event plastered on the wall, scanning for his name... AH! Antonio Morientes... shit, doesn't ring a bell... ] CALI: You... really don't know who you're facing? Do you just not care anymore? SABBATH: *shrugs* A victim's a victim. They all bleed red. [Caliban chuckles in agreement.] SABBATH: And anyway, he'll be better than fighting one of those bird guys, I guess. CALI: Bird...guys? [Sabbath jerks a thumb over to the bar.] SABBATH: Yeah, like the one over there scamming the peanuts. HEY YOU! KID! C'MERE! CALI: Sabbath what are y-oh, God... [Flapping his way over to the table is a short young man in a garish wrestling costume. There is more fringe on it than a man should ever be caught dead wearing. His mask looks like a cross between a drag queen catfight at Mardi Gras and a gimp's worst nightmare. The young man crows loudly at the sight of the Walking Contradiction.] MMS: Ka-WHOOP! Ka-WOW! Sabbath! I heard you were coming to Hellfire but I thought it was just a rib! It's a real, real honor to meet you sir! The name's Marty Simms. Everybody calls me "Madbird". [Simms extends a hand to Sabbath, who gives it a respectful shake.] SABBATH: Nice to meet you, kid. You met my friend here? Marty, this is Caliban. MMS: Ka-WOAH! Caliban, really? You're still alive? [Caliban glowers at Sabbath, who shrugs.] MMS: I saw you in Buffalo when I was just a kid! My dad took me to the show. You and that other guy were just crazy! [There is painfully awkward silence. Caliban's stony gaze has turned upon the Madbird, who doesn't realize just how deep the grave he's digging really is.] MMS: I must've been about eleven, twelve years old at the time. CALI: ... MMS: What was that guy's name? Ser-- [Sabbath coughs loudly into his hand. Caliban's eyes are smoldering with anger.] CALI: Yeah, listen...kid, sorry, what was your name again? MMS: Muh..Madbird. [Caliban sticks a hand out to shake. Marty looks down at it and hesitantly shakes the gnarled mass of flesh. Caliban keeps his grip on Madbird's hand snug, but not crushing. Yet.] CALI: Madbird, right. Listen, it's very nice to meet you. I don't know about Sabbath here but I'm hungry as Hell. I'm so hungry I'll probably eat that roast chicken I'm getting with my bare hands. You know, just tear it apart. Then, since I'll still be hungry, since it's sure to be such a scrawny little bird, I'll snap my way through the bones and suck out the marrow. [Madbird pales at the image. Sabbath looks confused.] SABBATH: But Caliban, I thought you were getting st-- [There's an audible THUMP! beneath the table. It sounds exactly like a Caliban-sized boot would sound like if it were to hit a Sabbath-shaped shin. Sabbath winces in pain and shuts up. Finally, the Freak releases the kid's hand.] CALI: So how about for now, you run along...go work on your Moonsaults or something...and maybe after we've had something to eat we'll sign an autograph for you. All right? MMS: Yessir, sir...nicetomeetyou...bawk... ["Madbird" tucks tail and books it. Caliban glares a hole through Sabbath.] CALI: This is your idea of a normal, civilized place? SABBATH: ... CALI: Listen, just keep that little retard away from me and I'll try not to kill anyone. Okay? SABBATH: ... (under his breath)... damnit, he hasn't seen Vile's suit yet... CALI: What was that? SABBATH: ... nothing... so, have you heard about... [... and as Sabby quickly tries to change the subject, we fade to...] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= "Madbird" Marty Simms -vs- Wild Turkey =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [First out is Simms, a wild-eyed cruiserweight with a bird motif entering to "Woodpeckers From Mars" by Faith No More. Second out, dressed in what can only be defined as a feathered luchador's costume ... is Vince Viper. The crowd pops big. Barney is not amused.] BJ: Is ... is that Vince? DJHV: Well, yes and no. BJ: That old fool really is off his rocker! [The bell rings, and both ... birds, circle the center of the ring, scratching at the mat with their claws (toes) and flapping their wings (arms) in a bizarre display that even stuns the mostly jaded Portsmouth crowd.] BJ: These people lived through 5 years of uranium in the water table and 30 years of generational mutation just to witness two bird men waging war. DJHV: Yeah, I, what? Is that why I keep seeing dudes with claws around here? [The two lock up.] BJ: Yeah. It's from the Uranium Refinement Plant. You know that, you're from around here. DJHV: No, I live in Kentucky. I just drive here a few days a week. *BLEEP*, man, I'm gonna start bringing bottled water from home. [The two men toss each other around roughly. Hiptosses, armdrags, a bodyslam by Turkey who "GOBBLE"s at Simms, backing the rookie down.] BJ: Uh, "Wild Turkey" being the bigger bird here thusfar. [Engaging again, the cruiserweight Simms hits a hurracanrana, off the ropes, dropkick! An early pin attempt gets 1, and he follows with a snap suplex! Cut to later in the match. A headbutt from Turkey floors Simms. Off the ropes, legdrop! To the outside, springboard legdrop gets a 2-count! Rallying, Simms scores with a series of punches, ducks a clothesline, then goes for a Falcon's Arrow suplex/powerbomb! Turkey hits, but slides, rolls, and drops to the outside! Pressing the advantage, Simms ascends the ropes, leaps, and LANDS ON THE GUARDRAIL! Moving at the last second, Turkey rolls to the inside to catch his breath.] BJ: Brutal landing! Can he recover!? [On 9.5, Simms rolls inside, only to be caught by Turkey who hits a running senton. Ascending to the 2nd turnbuckle, he hops off, catching the rising Simms with a Tornado DDT! Bumping vertically, Simms flops on the mat as if shot. Watching him, Turkey smiles beneath his mask, his amusement making him slow to take advantage. On the pin, he gets only 2.] BJ: Wild Turkey disappointed at that decision by the referee. He says it was a slow count. DJHV: It was slow, man! I counted to like 5 from the time he dropped that fool on his head! BJ: It only counts from when he _covers_. DJHV: Oh. [In the corner, Madbird dodges a leg lariat by Turkey, who flops, staggers to his feet, and takes a massive dropkick! Bouncing off the turnbuckle, he falls to the mat, dead center, as Simms ascends the turnbuckle again!] BJ: Joy Buzzard! Shooting Star elbow! I've never seen--do you realize that's 450 degrees _backwards_ not forwards AND he elbows instead of just landing on his back! Devastating. DJHV: Yeah. It won the match too. BJ: Huh? [The bell rings, the fans cheer, and Marty Simms has his hands raised.] DJHV: Think he knows who he just beat? BJ: I sincerely doubt it. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* BJ: That was certainly ... something. DJHV: Think that was good? BJ: Not really. DJHV: You ain't seen nothin'. We got Sabbath and Morientes, daddy! BJ: Two men who both wrestle something of a strong style; Sabbath being much more directly influenced by Puroresu. DJHV: Gazuntheit? BJ: (Sighs). Let's see the match! =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= "The Walking Contradiction" Sabbath -vs- Antonio Morientes =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [Mario Lanza's voice singing "Ave Maria" plays over the PA. From the back comes a Caucasian man with black hair, brown eyes, a five o'clock shadow on his face, wearing white tights with a purple stripe down the side of each leg and yellow boots. Antonio Morientes is here! On sight of their hero, the fans give Morientes the biggest pop of the night.] DJHV: Yo people, on the way to the ring right now is the guy you all love for some reason. He's the main from Spain, Madrid that is, he's so sweet it's a pain, Antonio Morientes! Fan: We love you Antonio! [Morientes walks to the ring, his head lowered as he prays silently to himself but moving his lips. He walks up to the ring, climbs onto the ring apron, makes the sign of the cross and then climbs through the ropes and pumps his fist into the air and goes to his corner. [Lights out...] #FORTUNE, FAME!# #MIRROR VAIN!# #GONE INSANE, BUT THE ...# [SINGALONG!] #... MEMORY REMAINS!# ["The Memory Remains" by Metallica kicks into full swing as the curtains part dramatically. A vivacious figure steps out, dressed provactively in a school girl uniform, her long dark brown hair tied up in pigtails and her almond shaped eyes heavily accented. She carries a riding crop with her, which she playfully slaps her hand with. She grins, taking in the scene.] DJHV: And here's the guy that's gonna kick his ass! Oh yeah, he's comin' out with his red-hot wife Sayaka at his side. He's from Seattle, THE BIRTHPLACE OF GRUNGE, and he goes by "The Walking Contradiction". That's right people, it's SABBATH!!! [The luscious diva works the crowd up into a frenzy before dropping to her knees and directing our attention to the curtains once again and... POP!!!!! The bar is lit up as a massive figure steps out, clad in full length black and red tights with matching boots and a sleeveless t-shirt that reads "BEAUTY IS EPHEMERAL, PAIN IS FOREVER". He raises his Singapore cane to the sky, garnering a massive roar as his name is called. He reaches his hand out to his wife, pulling her up and close to him. She straddles his thigh and turns to the camera with a seductive pose before they break off, making their way down the rampway. Sabbath touches hands and knocks fists with as many fans as he can, making a full circuit around the ring before making his way up the ring steps. He walks halfway down the length of the apron, eyes on the crowd, and wipes his feet off before stepping into the hallowed ground of the squared circle. He climbs up the nearest set of turnbuckles, lifting his cane to the sky, before climbing down and beginning his prematch routine.] BJ: That was a little one-sided, wasn't it? DJHV: What? I got favorites and I plays 'em, man. [Meeting Sabbath in the center of the ring, Morientes is met with a glare. Extending a hand and, seemingly, thanking him for something, Morientes takes a slap full-on to the face. Heel pop! The bell rings, and Sabbath tackles his stunned opponent to the mat!] BJ: What the? That's just uncalled for! DJHV: Hey, the man needs to keep his guard up. BJ: Sabbath helped Morientes when the Spectre was beating him senseless! I could hear it from here, he was thanking Sabbath! [Hitting a number of mounted punches, Sabbath stands, stomping Antonio's midsection before shouting out at the crowd that they should "shut up!". Grabbing the top rope, he starts dropping some knees, and, finally, the impacts are enough to push Antonio's upper body off the apron; the rest of him follows.] BJ: Vicious assault, and Morientes lands on the outside! [Stepping to the apron, Sabbath runs, leaping off and creaming the rising Morientes with a tope'! Pulling Morientes back up, he slams him around, battering him against the apron, guardrail, the stairs, and finally rolling into the ring and breaking the count.] BJ: Morientes can't get off the blocks! This is a mugging! [Morientes struggles up onto the ring apron, Sabbath, in the ring, reaches over the ropes to grab Antonio but the Madridsta rams his shoulder into the midsection of Sabbath through the ropes! Sabbath doubles over, Morientes grabs the top rope and leaps over.. Sunset Flip Roll Up! The Count.. One... TWO.. Sabbath kicks out! Enraged, Sabbath springs onto Morientes, beating him down again for a moment before rising, frustrated as the referee threatens him with DQ at the count of 4.] DJHV: Heard earlier that Sabby didn't even wanna fight tonight, man. Maybe next time you give the guy the night off. BJ: I haven't even been around! [Cut to later in the match. Sizing Morientes up, Sabbath hits a shining wizard! A cover gets him a 2-count. Pulling him up, Sabbath lifts the Spaniard but he struggles free and lands behind Sabbath and.. Inside Cradle Roll Up by Morientes! The count.. ONE... TWO... Sabbath kicks out! Both men scramble to their feet, Morientes goes for a Small Package but Sabbath shoves Morientes away and Antonio falls to the canvas. Sabbath quickly drops a knee on Antonio's head!] BJ: Every time it looks like Morientes might rebound, Sabbath puts him down again. DJHV: And yet the man keeps getting up. He's like a cockroach! [Pulling him up again, Sabbath locks in a double hammerlock, but on the lift, Morientes pushes off, and pulls a quick switch. Hegrabs Sabbath from behind and.. German Suplex! He rolls up to his feet, still holding onto Sabbath, adjusts his arms.. Tiger Suplex! Antonio rolls up to his feet, clearly going for the Suplexo Trio.. Or is he? Morientes hooks Sabbath's arms and now goes for a backslide roll up! The referee leaps into position, ONE.... TWO.... Sabbath kicks out! Sitting on the mat, Sabbath pulls at his hair in frustration as Morientes gets to his feet. Meeting him in the center, he talks a little trash, then slaps Morientes again. Antonio answers with a forearm! Sabbath hits big right hands, Antonio hits forearms, and finally the forearms have it! Pressing Sabbath back, Morientes attempts an irish whip, but gets reversed! Tumbling under a spinning heel kick, Morientes rebounds with a burning lariat!] BJ: SAINT AMURO MISSES! Sabbath barely avoided getting creamed by Morientes! SUPERKICK! Sabbath smells victory now! [Leaning on the top rope, Sabbath looks out over the crowd, shaking his head and still, even after all this violence, seething with anger, muttering to himself. Turning to meet the rising Antonio Morientes, Sabbath helps the clearly weakened Morientes to his feet.] DJHV: See Barn? Sabby's a good guy. Helpin' him up! BJ: Only to hit him again, Harvey. Here comes the Rapture! [Scooping Morientes up, Sabbath's eyes go big as Morientes slides free!] BJ: CRUCIFIX PIN! OH MY GOD! [The referee counts three! Rolling to his knees, Morientes rests against the ropes as Sabbath sits up, his eyes bugging out huge, staring at his shaking hands.] BJ: ANTONIO MORIENTES WINS IT! Sabbath can't believe what's just happened! [Both men stand unsteadily, Morientes looks like he may duck out for a second, but instead he steps to the center, putting his hand before Sabbath's downcast eyes. Turning away, Sabbath, fury etched into his features, looks to leave the ring. Standing perfectly still, Morientes simply stands with his hand outstretched. In a single, fluid motion, Sabbath steps back to shake Morientes' hand. Antonio thinks to smile, but, instead, winces as Sabbath tightens his grip, pulls him in close, and presses forehead-to-forehead. The camera doesn't pick up Sabbath's words, but the exchange ends with Sabby dropping to the mat, rolling from the ring, and leaving with Sayaka. Standing in the center, looking dejected, Morientes has his hand raised in victory by the referee.] BJ: That's all the time we have, people! Good night! ============================ A Strickland Sports Company, © 2010 RTN International. All rights reserved. |
| And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~! | |
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| Picky | Oct 13 2010, 12:13 AM Post #3 |
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Now let us retreat wench, for tonight, we feast on snobbery...
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Holy moly! |
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Have I told you how much I loathe your continued existence today? Proud member of the Quote Pyramid Builders Union Local #317 | |
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| Overly_Critical_Jue | Oct 13 2010, 12:31 AM Post #4 |
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Amigo, I ain't anybody but Juan Vasquez!
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Damnit! Now I have to consider the 2011 deadline! |
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| Mozeart | Oct 13 2010, 04:39 PM Post #5 |
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
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If you're still in, it's on. But probably faster than 2011. I'm gonna force myself to do true summary. If I start to ramble I'll lose momentum. This cannot be countenanced~! |
| And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~! | |
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| Picky | Oct 13 2010, 04:48 PM Post #6 |
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Now let us retreat wench, for tonight, we feast on snobbery...
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More Mayfield! |
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Have I told you how much I loathe your continued existence today? Proud member of the Quote Pyramid Builders Union Local #317 | |
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| Mozeart | Oct 13 2010, 07:18 PM Post #7 |
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
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Well yeah, of course. Mayfield's the very soul of HUGE! And what a dark, black soul he is. Er, rather, what I meant to say was "what a guy!" |
| And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~! | |
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| Dreamscape | Oct 16 2010, 05:14 PM Post #8 |
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Da Superiah Talent
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I totally flashed for this! |
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Dark Soul in PVW Tre Jordan in HUGE The guy with a restraining order from Elisha Cuthbert | |
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| Mozeart | Oct 16 2010, 06:23 PM Post #9 |
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
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HRm? Do you not see a piece you wrote? Keep in mind that just before this card I added a flash packet called "Chatterbox" to make things easier on myself. |
| And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~! | |
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| Dreamscape | Oct 16 2010, 09:53 PM Post #10 |
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Da Superiah Talent
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Oh, yeah...I filter out everything that wasn't posted over the last six months. My bad. |
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Dark Soul in PVW Tre Jordan in HUGE The guy with a restraining order from Elisha Cuthbert | |
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| Mozeart | Oct 16 2010, 10:09 PM Post #11 |
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
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Okay, that one hurt. |
| And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~! | |
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3:38 AM Jul 11