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| Chatterbox 11/22/2010.; Still alive and kickin' in the Hellfire! | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 22 2010, 04:22 PM (287 Views) | |
| Mozeart | Nov 22 2010, 04:22 PM Post #1 |
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
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[8pm, SSN2, Tuesday. An electric guitar riffs intense with a heavy basedrum driving the sound onward. It's "Sound of Madness" by Shinedown. On the screen, stills of various men flash past, keeping in time with the drumbeat. Each man stands in front of a "HUGE" logo spraypainted onto an archaic stone wall that looks as if it's ripped from a medieval castle. Each man speaks into a microphone or simply to himself; Preston Mayfield, Antonio Morientes, Tre Jordan (with Mack)--] #Yeah, I get it, you're an outcast,# #always under attack, always coming in last,# #bringing up the past, no one owes you anything.# [Rocket Man, Rust Stiletto, "Mad Dog" Valentine.] #I think you need a shotgun blast, a kick in the ass,# #so paranoid, WATCH YOUR BAAACK!!!# [Instrumentals pound anew as more stills fly by; Logan Foley, Miguel Quesada, Twinkletoes Tiwilliger, Foodstamp.] #Oh my, here we go.# [Tre Jordan, looking confused and disheveled, talks to no one in particular.] #Another lose cannon gone bi-polar,# #slipped down, couldn't get much lower.# [Antonio Morientes touches foreheads with a fan at ringside, turns, crosses his chest, and then points to the ceiling, seeming to thank God.] #Quicksand's got no sense of humor,# #I'm still laughing like hellll!# [Grimacing, Logan Foley shakes his head and punches his open hand.] #You think that by crying to me,# #looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe.# ["Mad Dog Valentine", covered in blood, gets stitches.] #You've been infected by a social disease?# [Dancing in a restroom stall, swinging a censored sextoy, Preston Mayfield does the hula in a grass skirt.] #Well, then take your medicine!# [Preston's eyes bug out as they lock onto the viewer at home, zoom in on his alarmed expression, cut!] #I created the sound of madness, wrote the book on pain,# [Rust Stiletto wipes the blood from a victim across his chest.] #somehow I'm still here to explain,# [A legdrop from Twinkletoes Tiwilliger envelops some poor jobber.] #that the darkest hour never comes in the night.# [The leather-faced psycho Foodstamp jerks his head around madly, looking for ... something.] #You can sleep with a gun,# #When you gonna wake up and fiiight...# [Miguel Quesada stands in the ring, mic in hand, as the fans cheer.] #...for yourself?# [Fade to black. The HUGE logo stamps onto the screen.] .____________________________________________. | _ _ _ _ ___________ | | / / / / | | | / __ \ ____\ | | / / / /| | | || | \_\ \ | | / /_/ / | | | || | __ \ \___ | | / __ / | | | || | | | \ __\ | | / / / / | | | || | | | \ \ | | / / / / | |_| || |__| | \ \____ | | /_/_/_/ O_ \___/O_\____/_ O_ \_____\ O_ | | / \| | | / \| | || _| _\| .) / \\ \/ /| | | | | || A || | | | | _| /| .\| | |> < | | \_/|_|_||_|_||_| |_| |__|_\\|__/ \_//_/\_\| |--------------------------------------------| | Presented on the SSN2 Network! | '--------------------------------------------' DJHV: Hello fans! It's just you and me, lovable old Dee-Jay Har-V for the next half hour of ... interesting weirdos! Now for all you folks on the world wide web, this program is old news, but to all those out there who're catchin' this on TV and wondering "what the heck is this crap"? Well, it's HUGE Chatterbox! This is the sounding board for all those weirdos I was just talking about. Dig it, y'all, this right here, me and you, this is where the real happens, got that? Good. And since I am in control, no bossman Barney Johnson breathing down my neck, first thing from here on in ... fan letters. [Oh dear God no, Harvey's just picked up a smartphone and is tapping away looking for a letter. This can't end well.] DJHV: Okay, here we go. Since last week's first televised episode of HUGELive~! hit the basic cable airwaves (wait, airwaves? Is that right?), uh, we've gotten like 10,000 emails! Most of 'em are asking why we took away their "Motocross Madness" but people, please, how many times can you watch the same guy do a flip on a motorbike? Anyway, here's one that's not. It's from Arnie Flatsburgh from Wyoming. Arnie asks-- [The text from the email comes up on the screen as Harvey reads.] DJHV/Text: Hey Harvey. You got long hair and you watch sweaty guys roll around all day and talk about how awesomely they suck. You seem to spend all your time with that Barney guy. Are you two actually gaybos? [That last line was read really slowly and with a questioning tone. Back to Harvey who really, really should've seen that coming. He looks pissed.] DJHV: Okay, uh, Barney would've probably caught that one. Lesson learned, fan letters segment on hold until we hire a guy to screen this *BLEEP*. [Harvey turns and we cut ... to camera 2!] DJHV: How about we just get right on down to the activities of the night? First up, let's hear from one of HUGE's new crop of scary mean guys; Rust Stiletto. [Pause. Harvey has a thoughtful look.] DJHV: I know that "Rusty" is a name, but isn't Stiletto just a knife? *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= Rust Stiletto =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [Bathed in brilliant moonlight and Seated atop an old, decrepit and derelict mausoleum with his arms and legs wrapped around a cracked and decaying cross we find the ghastly creature they call Rust Stilleto. A breeze blows strong, rustling leaves of the nearby trees and whipping his long stringy black hair and tattered leathers about as he looks into that camera with milk white eyes, baring those rotten gnarly teeth. With that raspy, pain filled voice, he speaks....] RS (Rust Stilleto): ....Blood.... It festers in the air, tinging the cool breeze with tainted crimson... It fills my nostrils and sends a tingle up my spine.... [He flicks his tongue out and drags it along the the stone surface of the crumbling cross his clings to.] RS: ....I taste it in the wind, on this stone. It is old blood... Dead blood... Millions of years it has circulated in the air, from battles fought on a variety of battle fields from the shores of Nagasaki to the Mojave desert. It is all you walking piles of meat are good for. Killing... [A chuckle passes his lips, but sounds more like a the whooping cough of someone suffering of tuberculosis.] RS: All you need is but one excuse, no matter how flimsy it is. Once you have it, you are justified in the boundless slaughter you commit and vindicated by those who share your views in mass. Did you know that humans are the only creatures in existence who kill for pleasure? [Dripping with pure venom, he shoots an angry scowl at the camera.] RS: Even as I sit upon this cross, A father and his son are planning their yearly ritual of death. [Rust holds his hands now in perfect mimicry of a hunting rifle, one eye closed while the other squints to look down imaginary iron sights.] RS: "BKCHOW! ....Got him right behind the eye, pa..." [Shifting in place on the cross, he looks to his right and holds his hand out, patting the air as if a father patting his son's head. His face twists into a rather unnerving, lopsided grin.] RS: "...That'sssss my boy." [Another throaty, coughing chuckle. Rust's arms wrap around the head of the cross, his head tilting back to look up into the sky.] RS: Unlike Man, I am part of the natural order of things. When I kill, It is for survival. Pleasure is derived from it, but the act is not for the sake of such a fleeting sensation. Pleasure from your pain is only the smallest of perks to a much more fundamental requirement. I fed upon the miserable wretch they call El Gato, but his was a feast that only served to wet the appetite.... [Slowly his head tilts back down, looking directly into the camera with a sudden intensity born out of hunger.] RS: ...I only hope that Mickey Mercury will prove a more satisfying meal.... [An anxious look spreads itself across that scarred and painted face, his lip curling and twitching with anticipation. A dark cloud moves before the moonlight, dipping the area in complete darkness. Just as quickly as the wind had blown it in place, it passes by. Moonlight shines down upon that cross, only to find that Rust was not there. Slowly, the scene fades to black.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Back in the studio. Harvey takes a swig of water.] DJHV: I ain't gonna lie to you; that Rusty guy creeps me right the *BLEEP* out. Why's he in a graveyard? It don't help either that I'm pretty sure he's in Southshore Municipal where my grandpappy's buried. Anyway, I may have the shivers but that ain't nothin' compared to what he has in store for Mickey Mercury. You remember Mickey don't ya? Had a moment in the sun a few years ago with the guy that trained him; Johnny Axis. Mostly just nurses injuries nowadays. Here's hoping he survives this one. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= -Singles Match- Rust Stiletto -vs- "Discount Superstar" Mickey Mercury =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [The camera opens with long, dark haired Mickey Mercury already in the ring, bouncing left to right. The man sports vibrant blue and silver boots and kickpads with matching tights decorated with designs based upon the Greek god with which he shares a last name with.] BJ: Mickey Mercury looking in fighting form. DJHV: Hope so Barn. He ain't facin' down Barney the Dinosaur here. [The low crooning guitar chords to Iced Earth's "Reaping Stone" sound out over the house PA, the lights flashing on and off between pitch blackness, blood red, and black light hues. Fog begins to bellow out from the entrance arch in such a voluminous amount that soon the arena is filled...] #There is a place far from her home# #She strayed her path too long# #In that wood, she found the stone# #Lost souls should never look upon# [Power chords sound out as the song finishes the first chorus. The lights stop flashing, staying at a blood red hue as the fog slowly gives way to reveal a man standing in the middle of the stage, his head lowered, leaving long, stringy black hair hanging in his face. His attire consists of a tattered, torn, and heavily worn leather coat, with sleeves dotted by rusty nails, three rusted clasps, and a spiked collar holding it together. Slowly his head lifts to reveal a face painted like a corpse with black stained eyes and streaks running down both cheeks, eyes of milky white, and black lips laced together with red shoe string. Reaching up with black painted fingernails, he pulls the end of the lace and unravels his bound lips...] #At first glance, a lone monolith# #Lifeless, cold and grey# #She looked in deep, this timeless relic# BJ: Good lord. Rust may not be the only grappler on the planet to sew his lips shut but I, for one, can't get used to it. [...Traces of fog still swirl around the arena as the corpse like creature makes his way to the ring at a slow, measured pace. He bares and grits his jagged, gnarly teeth and letting out a raspy hisses as he passed by fans...] #The lost fall easy prey# [As the camera pans around to follow him, we get a view of the back of that long coat, which reads in bold white old English font- IN GOD WE RUST... Arriving at ringside, He leaps onto the apron. Grabbing the top rope, he vaults himself up and over with ease, landing in a low crouch before the ropes. Very slowly, almost serpent-like, he rises. With unnerving, dead eyes that never seem to blink, he stares through the black, greasy strands of hair in his face at the crowd, his head panning left to right at a very slow, steady pace. Eventually his eyes fall upon Mickey Mercury, the 15 year vet taking a step back as a great feeling of unease overcame him.] #COME INTO MY WORLD MY CHILD!!!# #I WILL TAKE YOU HOOOOMMMMEEE!!# #I AM YOUR RRRRRREEEEAAAAAAPPPPPIIIINNNGGGGG SSSTTTOOOONNNNNEEE!!!# [He unsnaps the three clasps and the spiked collar holding his coat together and with a simple shift of his shoulders, lets his coat slide off to reveal more of his form. Pale, and tight muscled, he is covered in countless scars, the most noticeable of all being a jagged slice across his throat. He sports hand-stitched, black leather tights decorated with designs of jawless, half-rotted skulls impaled on rusted rail spikes, black knee pads, matching wrestling boots with red spattered kick pads, and black tape wrapped around his palms, inner fingers, wrists, and all the way up the arms to the mid biceps.] DJHV: Listen up people, this guy, he comes from an extra special place in Parts, Unknown called the "Fringes of Dissolution, and weighs all of 200 pounds, dig? This is the scary freak whose mama named him Rust Stiletto! Give it up! [Remembering the abuse leveled on El Gato last week, the fans boo Rust. He doesn't seem to notice.] BJ: An intimidating presence in spite of his stature, Barney. DJHV: Uh, if you mean he's a creepy little guy then, uh, yeah Barn. BJ: Slightly above average size. [Rust backs into his corner and squats down, elbows resting on knees and taped fingers wriggling with anticipation as he waits to hear the bell's chime...] DJHV: Yeah, I get ya. I'd rather take on Tiwilliger too. BJ: ... [The referee slides into the ring, giving both wrestlers a cursory glance. With a loud clap followed by a wave of his hands, he motions for the bell!] *DING!* *DING!* *DING!* [Rust rises to his feet, Mickey wisely keeping his distance as he paces back and forth. The undead creature stands perfectly rigid like a statue, his head and eyes barely moving at all to keep track of Mickey's movements.] [For several seconds this goes on and after awhile the crowd began to grow restless. Mickey suddenly starts yelling at Rust, motioning him forward.] MM: COME ON YOU FREAK!!!!! LET'S DO THIS!!!! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! [With an unnerving, twisted grin made of jagged, rotten teeth, Rust does nothing. The crowd begins to openly boo at Rust Stilleto, but he obviously doesn't care, intent on staring down Mickey Mercury with eyes that still have yet to blink.] Crowd: BOOOOOOOO!!!!! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! [It's when trash and paper cups start flying into the ring that Mickey finally acts! Giving in to a sudden burst of anger, he rushes in at Rust Stilleto. Like a coiled viper almost, Rust strikes quick and decisively! He swipes across Mickey's face with black fingernails, followed by a hard kick to the gut and a Leaping Face Buster drop! Once he's down, Rust wastes no time and straddles Mickey's back. ] BJ: Good lord! He raked him with his nails! Mickey's already bleeding! The referee's checking and admonishing Rust, but there's no letup. [From there, he began brutally hammering vicious and violent strikes over and over to the back of the man's head. The referee shouts a warning at Rust, followed by a count. It was on a count of 4 that Rust pulled himself off of Mickey and stepped the arbitrary five feet back...] DJHV: Looks like Mick's wantin' to continue. Is it true that you had to order this guy to keep his nails trimmed down from, uh, like, claws? BJ: Me? No, no nonono ... I had someone else do it. DJHV: How'd that go? BJ: SSN's medical insurance was invoked and Rust was fined before he ever wrestled a match. DJHV: Wow. [...Rust crouches down and waits, his head slightly tilting to one side not unlike a curious dog. He watches intently as Mickey shakes the cobwebs and rises on all fours. Very slowly and gradually, Rust holds his arms out at his sides, hands hanging from his wrists limp and claw like....] DJHV: Oh yeah, he's used to making claws all right. Lookit that CREEPY posture, man. [....When Mickey is on his feet, Rust moves in and quickly hooks his opponent into a full nelson hold and backbridges with a release Dragon Suplex! On impact, Mickey skids into the ropes!] BJ: BRUTAL impact! [The Discount Superstar rolls out of the ring, clutching at his back while Rust stands in the center of the ring. On that painted face we find a look of utter contempt and disappointment as he looks upon Mickey.] DJHV: Is it me or does he look bored? [With a shake of his head, Rust heads for the ropes and drops, rolling under the ring. Mickey spots Rust heading out of the ring and quickly slides in, shouting out at him.] MM: HEY WHERE YOU GOIN'?!!! WE'VE GOT A MATCH HERE!! DJHV: Oh God why did he do that? He's asking to die here! [The crowd boos uproariously at Rust as he slowly heads up the ramp. Mickey snarls and slides under the ropes, effectively resetting the arbitrary 10 count and running up the ramp! From behind, he hits Rust with a solid double axe handle, staggering the undead creature. He then grabs him by the hem of his tights and the back of his head, spins him around and rams him into a guard rail!!!] BJ: Unreal! He put Rust Stiletto down on the concrete! [FACE POP!!!!] MM: DON'T DISCOUNT ME YET YOU DEAD BASTARD!!! DJHV: I thought this kid was career dead but he's actually doin' some damage! [Gathering the stunned Rust Stilleto up, Mickey rushes him down the aisle and slings him back in the ring, quickly joining him in the process. Both men get to their feet, Rust turning right into a series of left and right punches from the Discount Superstar, driving him back into the ropes!] BJ: Mercury on a tear! [Gathering Rust by the arm, Mickey turns and pulls him into an Irish Whip! Rust counters, sending Mickey across the ring instead. Mickey hits the ropes, rebounds and throws both feet out for a dropkick, catching Rust square in the chest and dropping the zombie-esq wrestler flat on his back!] BJ: And big impact! [Rust sits up as if the dead rising, only for Mickey to not miss a beat and hit a followup low orbit dropkick right in Rust's face! Mickey kips to his feet with a wild hoot, then runs for the nearest set of ropes, springs onto the second rope, and hits a springboard moonsault. He lands with a hard impact across Rust's form and hooks the leg!] Referee: ONE!!! TWO!!! THR-KICKOUT!! [Mickey is violently thrown off of Rust, who once more sits up, this time with a tangible, hate filled scowl on his face. Holding up 2 fingers, the ref absorbs the jeers of the crowd while motioning for the match to continue. His breaths come heavy and heated, blowing strands of stringy black hair back and forth. Mickey rolls to his feet and rushes in with a spinal tap kick, Rust's face twisting into a grimace as a throaty growl escapes his throat.] BJ: Colliding in the center! DJHV: Dude, you may have to pay this kid more! I mean, hell, he even had a line with his nickname in it. "Don't discount me" he said. Heh. [Dropping down behind Rust, Mickey locks him into a tight sleeper hold. Rust doesn't give the appearance of struggling, merely holding his arms out at his sides much as he did before only with his hands clenched into tight fists.] DJHV: Uh ... that's weird. [Pulling his legs in, he slowly powers himself to a stand, bringing Mickey to a stand with him. Opening his fingers, Rust clutches at either side of Mickey's head and drops with an impromptu Stunner! Mickey falls back, clutching at his jaw and kicking his legs in pure agony!] BJ: JAWBREAKER! Stiletto more resourceful than I thought he could be! [Rising to his feet, Rust looks over his shoulder at the stunned Mickey Mercury and hisses through those gnarly teeth....] DJHV: Barn ... those physicals you make guys take. They include dental exams? [...With a quickness he had no displayed the entire match, Rust sprints from the center of the ring and vaults to the top of the nearest turnpost. After taking less than a second to align himself with Mickey, he backflips off the top rope and brings both feet down upon the Discount Superstar's belly, tucking and rolling on impact! Mickey thrashes and rolls onto his side, clutching his now churning guts and groaning in pain.] BJ: MOONSAULT STOMP! Rust is back up and Mickey Mercury just spat up some blood! DJHV: Get it right man, that was "Rusted Air!" [Rust dives on the wounded wrestler, shoving his two middle fingers into the man's mouth and under his tongue while depressing the underside of the jaw with the tongue. Mickey lets out a choking gargled scream, his legs kicking and flailing as Rust pulls him to a stand. Mickey Taps wildly on his opponent's shoulder. The referee signals for the bell!] BJ: There's that sick mandible claw again! Tetanus, and Mickey Mercury is tapping before Rust Stiletto can rip out his tongue! Ring the bell, Harvey! [MIXED POP!] *DING!* *DING!* *DING!* DJHV: DAMN! Attention people, the sickness what just transpired done gave the win to RUST STILETTO! He made Mickey tap, yo! [Rust merely sneers with evil intentions, throws that tapping arm over his shoulder, lifts him up by his jaw and slams him to the canvas as if delivering a chokeslam! Reaping Stone hits the house P/A once more!] *FAWAMP!* [He rises from Mickey Mercury's now unconcious form. Much like the beginning of the match, Rust stands rigid like a statue, eyes unblinking as he stares directly into the camera. The arena lights suddenly black out the music quickly cutting out...] BJ: Whoa! Who's messing with my breaker box! [....When they come back on, we find Rust gone and a small pool of blood around Mickey's head, but no obvious wounds. He seemed to still be breathing however. EMT's quickly rushed in to ringside to attend to him as the scene quickly fades out.] DJHV: Uh, Barn, either he's really good at movin' around in the dark or he's hidin' here someplace. Let's talk about somethin' that don't involve how creepy zombies with British teeth are. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Studio. Harvey's got his hands clasped before him.] DJHV: Y'know, this whole thing with Rusty debuting here lately wouldn't be so bad ... except he ain't the only sicko in town. Right around the same time some Leatherface wannabe callin' himself Foodstamp came onto the scene. Wanna see what I'm talkin' about? Here it go. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= Foodstamp =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [ROLL FILM!] [Every building has it's deep, dark recesses that most would be fearful of entering without a flash light. Areas so spooky, so creepy that many just choose to believe they do not exist. In fact, it's actually hard to find these areas in most places. After all, what good business owner wants someone tinkering down in the boiler room? Not only they potentially screw things up, they could also potentially injure themselves! But for the creature sitting with his back against the wall, legs sprawled out before him, with hand tapping against the piping... Perhaps for him, the darkness is comforting, a place to hide when the world becomes too much. The man's identity is recognizable anywhere. No too many freaks running around with long dreads and brown leather mask. Especially ones dressed in black sweats, and a white tee, covered in what's either ketchup or blood, or both.] FOODSTAMP: So now that the sacrificing has begun, there is only one logical conclusion that can be made... *Evil laugh.* The sacrificing _MUST_ continue! [More evil laughter, as Foodstamp turns his attention to the camera.] FOODSTAMP: And what a glorious, glorious victim did the wrestling gods serve up to me to devour on HUGELive! If it was not already abundantly apparent, nothing pleases me more than causing harm and pain to those around me... To those that think they are better than me... TO THOSE THAT FORGOT ALL ABOUT _MMMEEE_.... but to do it something so innocent and sweet... To cause chaos, destruction and utter terror for someone that's so pathetic and simple... It almost brings a tear to my eye! [Again, with the evil laughter, as Food takes his eyes off the camera, staring at the ground, hands fumbling in his lap.] FOODSTAMP: I look at you Rocket man, and I don't laugh. I don't even crack a smile. I don't find joy in your antics, or wisdom in your words. You are nothing but a child that's never grown up. Still dreamy and sleepy eyed, believing the world can be separated into good and evil. You are filled with innocence and ignorance, not understanding the severity and seriousness of this world around us. In the fantasy world that you live in, you are a hero, doing the world a great service by protecting it, by making sure justice is served and criminals are punished! The issue is that we are _NOT_ in your fantasy world... No, not at all... [Food tilts his head, looking up at the camera again. Crazy is the only world that can describe his eyes.] FOODSTAMP: We live in the _REAL_ world where super heroes belong in comic books and at the movies. In this real world, a world that you _DENY_ to exist, good doesn't triumph evil. It gets ran over, beaten to a pulp and left for dead in the streets. There is no more good these days for they are the _END TIMES_ my friend. The Wolf has proclaimed it so, and so it will be! [Food nods, once again looking away, back to focusing on the ground.] FOODSTAMP: Thus, come HUGELive, Rocket man, if you have yet to have your epiphany, discovering that you are nothing but a crazy loon, a laughing stock, the butt of all jokes... I will do all I can to help you in this matter. For perhaps if you do not develop some good sense, perhaps I could beat some into you! [More evil laughter, as Food continues to stare at the ground.] FOODSTAMP: Enjoy your last few days of bliss, Rocket Man. Fight the good fight, save the world from all the drug laden skittles and continue to be your delusion, ignorant self. Pay no attention to the possibilities of HUGELive. Do not worry, do not fret. It's going to be all right. You've been extended a personal invitation to Camp Foodstamp, and you will certainly enjoy yourself! I am sure you will find it to be a life altering experience, I am sure! [Food looks up into the camera this time. His eyes still screaming, "CRAZY!" as he tilts his head the other direction. More evil laughter as the camera cuts away...] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: See what I'm sayin'? Ain't nothin' crazier than a crazy person callin' somebody else crazy. Well, unless that other person _is_ crazy. Is Rocket Man crazy? I sure as hell don't know. How about all y'all be your own judge. Check it out, here comes Rocket Man! =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= Rocket Man =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [We open on a man walking down the street on his cell phone. His other hand buried in his pocket protecting it from the cold, bitter air.] Man: Alright hon', I’ll be home soon I just have to pick up a few things at the store. [A pause.] Man: I love you too. [The man hangs up his phone and is about to slide it into his pocket when... suddenly... a large booming voice comes from off camera.] RM: RRRRRRROOOOOCCCCCCKKKKKEEEEEEEETTTTTTTT MMMMAAAAAANNNN!!!!! [With a loud swoop or thud or graceful jump a man “flies” onto the screen. He is dressed in a crimson and white vertical striped bodysuit with black boots and a crimson cape. He wears a crimson mask with a white face. He stands there triumphantly with his fists on his hips.] RM: Citizen no doubt you are here to interview Rocket Man after his virtuous, victorious victory! [Rocket Man raises a triumphant fist in the air and the man looks confused.] Man: I’m sorry you are? RM: An excellent question citizen. Sure you’ve seen the man in action, but just who is Rocket Man? [Pause for dramatic effect.] RM: Rocket Man is not just an ordinary man, but an extraordinary one! Rocket Man stands for truth, justice and the intergalactic charter of peace! Rocket Man is not just the mortal enemy of the cursed Star Man, intergalactic terrorist of fear and hate, oh no, but Rocket Man also stands up for all who try to tear down this fair city! [Rocket Man drifts off as he looks towards the sky... heroically.] Man: That wasn’t really what I was going for... RM: Another excellent question citizen! This week Rocket Man is scheduled to do battle nefarious mortal known as Foodstamp. This villainous villain will prove quite the test for Rocket Man, however just as Rocket Man has battled evil throughout the galaxy AND TRIUMPHED! So too will Rocket Man claim victory against this dastardly doer of debauchery! [Rocket Man slams his fist into his open hand... heroically.] Man: Oh you must be a wrestler over in that place down by... um... RM: You sense it too? Man: Sense what? Hey man look I don’t go that way! RM: Mortal Citizen, yes, yes Rocket Man does sense that there is still good in this Foodstamp. Rocket Man can sense the man they called Foodstamp is not really bad at all, and simply in need of some food! Man: Food? RM: Yes, Mortal Citizen food. Evidentially his evil moniker of evilness is simply a cry out for something descent to eat. Or a conservative ideological play on words that is simply calling for a basic overhaul or even a total reform of the modern welfare system as these United States of America knows it, calling for a simpler time of the Pre New Deal Era reforms that brought the country out of the depths of the Great Depression and changed the socio-economic culture of this fair land as we know it! Man: Huh? RM: No, you’re right Mortal Citizen; it’s definitely a cry merely for something to eat. [Rocket Man takes a dramatic step forward.] RM: Well Rocket Man stands before you today pledging to fight against hunger! Because no intergalactic citizen no matter how big or how small... [Rocket Man takes a dramatic sigh.] RM: ...no matter how old or how young... [Another dramatic sigh.] RM: ...how evil or how good... no one, NO ONE, deserves to feel the horrible pangs of hunger that terrorize of fair galaxy. Why this reminds Rocket Man of the time he fought against the evil Star Man on the Planet.... [Rocket Man trails off as he notices the guy looking at him strangely.] RM: You’re right Citizen, Rocket Man has no time for nostalgia when such a large battle looms. For Rocket Man has fought and triumphed over many the adversaries: Palinites from Planet Alaskian; The EnvironGore Tribe from Holinwudeliton; John Travolta’s male pattern baldness; Jay Leno’s continued success; and countless others. But never has Rocket Man entrenched himself in a fight as gruesome as his current foe... the foe known as hunger. Fear not Citizen, Rocket Man will fight and conquer this injustice too. [Rocket Man takes a deep breath in, as in to puff out his chest... heroically.] Man: That’s great, I’m going to go. RM: That’s right Citizen! Spread the word of Rocket Man and let all men know that hunger is no ally of Rocket Man! Soon Rocket Man will find this hunger and will banish from this galaxy and when Rocket Man does get his hands on hunger it’s gonna be BAM! ZOOM! STRAIGHT TO THE MOON!!! [Rocket Man nods as he places his fists against his hips once again.] RM: And now Citizen I must take my leave! But know that Rocket Man is always on the job, fighting for what’s right and what’s fair. Crime and evil may have many names; but all those names will fear the wrath of... RRRRRRROOOOOCCCCCCKKKKKEEEEEEEETTTTTTTT MMMMAAAAAANNNN!!!!! [With a loud swoop or thud or graceful jump Rocket Man “flies” off the screen.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Black screen. "O' Fortuna" by Carl Orff plays as a flaming 5-pointed star materializes on the screen, surrounded by text.] Text on Screen: Who is STAR MAN!? *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: Okay, so between the two of them, Rocket Man might be the crazier guy. Still, he seems harmless and Foodstamp comes off VICIOUS, dig? He ripped some *BLEEP* up on last week's Chatterbox and now he's on the flagship. Check that match out later tonight, people. Anyway, let's hear from HUGE's very own representative of the famous Foley wrestling family. Here's Logan Foley! *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= "Celtic Gentleman" Logan Foley =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [We see a medium sized arena dimly lit with a bunch of empty seats, by further inspection of the camera man we see it is none other than the site of this weeks past HUGELive took place the Hellfire Bar & Grill. The camera pans till it comes to the HUGE ring crew dismantling the distinctive HUGE ring and sitting at ringside is a figure wearing an ominous green leather jacket and the rest of him adorned in all black. He is kicked back in the seat with his feet propped up on the metal railing. The camera moves in and we see that it is none other than HUGE Superstar "The Celtic Gentlemen" Logan Foley. Foley looks at the camera and begins to speak...] Logan Foley: "What a helluva night! Things didn't go according to plan for me and some people may say I make false promises just like my younger brother. Trust me "The Celtic Gentlemen" has seen better nights in his career. You know everyone keeps telling me "Logan, you've got to quit living in the shadow of you younger brother, Caleb. You have to go out to that ring and be yourself. Show the world you are nothing like your brother. You have to stop wrestling like you were back home in Ireland." Well it's hard not to relive the glory days. The days when men were men, the days when wrestlers were called athletes instead of "sport entertainers", the days when guys didn't get into the ring in ugly ring attire, the days when a wrestler knew how to actually wrestle like putting his opponent in a half-nelson, grapevine his leg, and slam him face first into the mat. Now all you got is a bunch of guys who execute fifteen different types of Powerbombs and DDT's." [Logan gets up, grabbing his gym bag which is sitting on the floor in front of him and begins walking to where the HUGE rampway was once standing. He walks till he comes to where the television crew is taking down the banner of HUGE. He then stops and watches.] Logan Foley: "Alas, those days are dead and gone but Logan Foley isn't. I am also sick and tired of everyone referring to me as the other "Foley" after tonight the first person that calls Logan Foley the other Foley is going to get punched right in the mouth. Yeah, I know I have been experiencing problems about getting over but like Harvey Jenkins said "It's just a little ring rust." Unfortunately for you Tre Jordan, Logan Foley will find his groove when we square off and I will have my first victory in HUGE as you will fall victim to the HUGE's top athlete. Yep, that's right...that is what I said "athlete." If the rest of you so called wrestlers want to be called "entertainers" that is your business, but Logan Foley is a professional athlete and an athlete he will remain. Maybe I can't go back and recapture the good old days so why not bring the good old days to HUGE and there is a lot of good days ahead for The Celtic Gentlemen." [Finally a gentlemen comes down from a ladder with the HUGE banner in hand and Foley begins making his way through the dressing room area as he walks down a long dark corridor with just enough lighting that he can see where he is going.] Logan Foley: "Just days before Thanksgiving Day it will be a good day for me as I will defeat Tre Jordan. As I have said before wrestling is all about inches. You either win by and inch or two or you lose by an inch or two. Just think "Mad Dog" Valentine, I came within an inch or two of cracking your skull open. You see "Mad Dog" the fact of the matter remains I suckered you in and let you think that you was winning, all the while I was waiting for that one critical mistake where I could knock you our with Celtic Dreams. Valentine rest assured I will get my hands on you again and next time the outcome will be a different one. For everyone in the back I want you to take notes on what I do to your precious little Tre Jordan..." [Logan finally reaches the back door of the Hellfire Bar & Grill and exits into the parking lot as the camera fades to black. ] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: Tell you what, that Logan's one hell of a surly dude. I ain't even gonna talk trash about that guy and, well, hell, if anybody asks who the "other Foley" is, I recommend you do like me and say "Caleb". Hundred-percent, dawg. BUT ... he's facing off against Tre Jordan. It's easy to write Jordan off lately, yeah, but this is the guy who took HUGE by storm when we first got that sweet, sweet corporate backing. He beat Vince Viper, he beat the Spectre. The guy's got a track record! So what does Tre think about his chances? Let's find out. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= Tre Jordan =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [The scene opens to a very plain background and the ever charming Billy McWilliams. For some strange reason, he is holding a piece of paper as if the blind man is going to read to us. Clad in a simple black suit with a tie, he brings a certain degree of class to threads lacking it.] Mack: "To whom it may concern," [While holding the paper as if he was to read it, Mack reads instead from memory.] Mack: "My client Tre Jordan would like to express his outrage with the state of one Hellfire's Ultimate Grappling Excitement. Whatever that means. Is that why it's called HUGE? Nevermind, Mack. My client was clearly, maliciously, and wrongly ousted from a tournament match with some fat guy from Toledo. Seriously, he's really fat. Like, my client thought he was Jabba the Hut's fatter cousin and stuff. If he was a mom, he'd totally have an entire collection of your mom's so fat jokes specifically with him in mind. Where was I?" [Well, Mack is very thorough with his dictation. Or recording of a dialogue since he can't really...dictate?] Mack: "Oh, yeah, it has come to my attention that if things were set right, as they should be, my client would be facing the dog instead of the IRA guy. Mr. Barney Johnson, you should make this right. Do not force my client to take action against you, the dog, and most importantly, Preston Mayflower. Sadly, that chump is the brains behind the dumbass operation known as Clean Living. He gets to face Army Man Doug while my client faces a guy who probably will bring a pipe bomb to the ring. How is that fair? Meanwhile, the fat guy from 'Uncle Buck' takes my client's rightful spot in the semifinals? What a sham...a sham..." Voice: "CUT!" [From the left, Tre Jordan walks into the frame. He's wearing a Ron Howard hat along with a gray suit jacket over a powder blue shirt. To add to the look, he has a pair of jeans on.] Jordan: "First, you totally don't know what to dictate and what not to dictate ... dick." [He looks to the camera as if to say "yeah, you should laugh."] Jordan: "And now you can't even remember shammockery? I mean, jeez, for a smart guy, your grasp of the English language is tenuous at best. Just move aside and let a master show you how it's done." [He more or less pushes the older man to the side.] Jordan: "Listen, I'm not one to rock the boat, but consider me Hurricane Tre. No...wait...Tornado Tre? I'm a really bad wind storm. And HUGE, you're the boat in this equation. Or am I? Wait...I got it! I rock, therefore I'm rocking...the boat...which is HUGE. Okay, with that in mind, Barney Johnson, your lame sidekick, Preston, Tweedledee, doggy, Irish dude...listen, we can solve this whole mess by rightfully putting me back in the tournament, letting Irish dude attach a bomb to Preston's car because you know he loves to do that, and letting doggy eat Tweedledumb. Barney, I've done everything you've asked. I took down the big bad Spectre. I scared off the V-guy. Make this right. Don't make angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. I get very...unhappy." [He nods, oddly proud of himself for his spiel, not that much of it made much sense before looking down. The camera finally moves and Mack is shaking his head.] Jordan: "Learn to be awesome like me." Mack: "Yes, sir. I shall try." [Scene ends.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Studio~!] DJHV: Okay, so let's see here. Tre thinks he can ... what? Sue his way back into the tournament? He thinks Preston's Barney's friend? And what is up with the Irish bomb jokes? Man, seriously, don't wake up that sleeping dragon. I don't think Logan needs an excuse to try and hurt you. Anyway, here's a break from the usual brand of stupid around here ... some rookie stupid. First off, Glenn Great. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE= Glenn Great =FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE= [A pair of FORGE students stand in a locker room. The more eye-catching – and better looking - of them is a young man wearing a pair of gold trousers and a white vest, his long hair loose around his shoulders. He’s fairly small, cruiserweight size. With him is a fairly big girl, a little better than average looking perhaps, with a brown ponytail, and is wearing a skirt and white blouse. She runs her hands down the guy’s chest as he speaks.] GG: Do not adjust your TV sets, I really AM this gorgeous. [He smirks.] GG: Those of you who don’t know me… what am I saying? None of you know me, but don’t you all worry, cause that’s gonna change real soon. I am ‘The Greatest’ Glenn Great, so good they named me twice, and if you thought the FORGE guys you met already were worth watching, then, I’m glad you’re easily impressed. Take a look at Joshua Endicott, take a look at Henry Craven, and then take a look at me. The Pinnacle of Perfection, The Vision of Vibrancy, The Epitome of Exhilaration, and the man who will be named valedictiorian. [The girl with him nods and kisses him on the cheek.] LM: You know you will, my sweet little bunny. [He looks slightly irritated at her words.] LM: And hey, at least people get to know you’re IN the class. Mr HUGE guy who said there wouldn’t be any women appearing on TV… I got two words for you. Sexual Discrimination. [Cut.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: Normally we'd break these up but, well, the producer says these two pieces only make sense one right after the other. Check it out, the biggest man in the current FORGE class; Big Jack. =FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE= Big Jack =FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE= [Back to a locker room, where we see a massive guy, with a blonde buzz cut, dressed in a pair of black jeans and a Green Day T-shirt.] BJ: Heard what my cousin had to say. Heard that Glenn said some stuff that may have annoyed a few people. [He sighs.] BJ: Guess that Joshua Endicott and Henry Craven might think they’re gonna be valedictorian. [A shake of the head.] BJ: Not happening, guys. See, Glenn Great may be a lot of things. He may be brash. He may be annoying. He may be an arrogant jerk. But he’s family. And all my life, whenever I needed something, when I was playing in high school, when I was getting in trouble, and when I was getting screwed over by those college scouts who didn’t see the talent I had, he’s been there for me. I’m there for him too. So Craven, Endicott, Martinez, Kije… you want to get to him, you gotta go through Big Jack first. And I’m warning you, I’m tough to get through. [Cut.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: Ohhh, okay, these guys are cousins! See, Bob, if you'd told me that before I wouldn't have argued. [Faint, in the distance, Bob can be heard.] Bob: I did! I totally did! [Yeah, really classy operation they're running here. Usually if you can hear the producer the producer gets fired but not in HUGE!] DJHV: Eh, that's a debate for tonight ... when I'm drunk and there're more girls around. Anyway, Glenn Great and Big Jack with Lilah Maynard ... man, there aren't valets on FORGE! Bob: She was gonna sue! DJHV: Ah *BLEEP*, really? Anyway, they're gonna be competin' on the FORGE television program, comin' soon on the SHoT Network! Meanwhile, back at the plot, the HUGE Heavyweight Title Tournament is drawin' to a head. In the semifinals we got Antonio Morientes takin' on Miguel Quesada. Tell you what, the most popular man in HUGE may not be the man most cheered come HUGELive~! Quesada's been around for a long damned time and he's got himself a following. Right now though, let's hear what Tony has to say. *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= Antonio Morientes =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [Scene opens to a dark corner somewhere in the Hellfire. Kneeling with his back to the camera is a familiar looking figure, dressed in a dark blue Real Madrid hoodie and blue jeans. The man does the sign of the cross and stands up and turns to the camera revealing the obvious, it's the man from Madrid himself, Antonio Morientes.] AM: Hola, amigos. Con permiso, I was just saying a few prayers, having a few words with God. Begging for his forgiveness for the horrible things I've done against my fellow man, mi hermano from South Africa, Kobus de Vries. His manager, señorita Penny Zadian, she will not let me go to my wrestling comrade I have so greivously wronged and appeal for his forgiveness. She scolds me very harshly, with very... strong language. [Antonio nods his head, his eyes wide as if reliving the language Penny used.] AM: But I deserve this. While I beg God for forgiveness, I also thank him for Señorita Zadian's wrath. Her hurtful words are an easy stab as opposed to what Kobus, my fellow man, is suffering because of my reckless actions. God has shown mercy on me, who does not deserve it. It is not a random act of mercy, at least I do not believe it to be such. There is a reason this happened and there is a purpose for me to still be alive in this tournament to crown a champion. [The sad expression discussing the unfortunate South African fades and a spark seems to light up Morientes' brown eyes.] AM: At the end of this tournament someone will lift a championship belt. An object of leather and metal but what it represents.. What it represents means alot more than a shiny object. It's the hopes and dreams of every person. The promotion at work, the house a couple saves up to move to, the pride and honor of a country. Anything and everything one can dream up, the championship represents. It is bigger than itself and it is bigger than the competitors who lift it in the air. [Morientes nods.] AM: I believe in accomplishing all things in the right way, and this has not changed. But.. I have held back too much. Si, when I didn't hold back my fellow man Kobus was injured, I know. That is because I lost discipline. I must stop holding back and I must do it with discipline and purpose. Because this championship means more than personal glory or victory. It means tribute for Kobus, my wrestling brother I have wronged so greviously. It means the dreams and hopes of my country, España! It means reward and thanks to all the fans who have cheered me here in Hellfire. Si, all of you who have embraced and supported this lowly man from a country an ocean away. All of you accepted me as your own and at times I let you down and still you have come back and given me your energy, cheers and applause. [Antonio pumps a fist in the air.] AM: Gracias, amigos! Mucho gracias! You have believed in me and helped me and now is the opportunity to pay all of you back for everything! I must give my all in the ring because the fans here at Hellfire, the country I left behind, and Kobus who I have wronged, all is on my shoulders. And please, forgive me amigos, but I will need your support and help once again. My opponent, Miguel Quesada, he is the toughest challenge one could face. A decorated and honored veteran who has accomplished more than any of us here in this tournament. [The man from Madrid appears more humble now.] AM: Señor Quesada, I know you have much on your shoulders that you represent, as does everyone here. We're all fighting for our families, countries, fans and dreams. I know you will bring a battle to me like I have never seen before and I welcome and hope this is the case. I will do all within my body to match your fight with my own and for all the flags and burdens I carry I will do battle for their glory and tribute to be victorious. One of us will go on for the opportunity to lift the belt for all they are representing. The other will have to start over to try and climb the mountain another day. [Antonio nods.] AM: If I can rise to this challenge and earn a spot to fight for the title, I do not do it out of malice or disrespect to you or all you represent Señor Quesada. I do it for all I represent much as you will do for your own if you defeat me. Let us have a heated but honorable battle, Señor Quesada, and may God protect us as we fight with all our hearts and energy for the glory and honor and tribute we represent in battle. [Morientes nods yet again.] AM: Mucho gracias, everyone and may God bless us all. [Antonio walks offscreen. Scene fades.] *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* DJHV: Aw man, there's another cavity. This guy's so sweet I just can't stand it. I mean, seriously, Tony, Miggy's gonna wanna take your head off so he can get that gold! I keep tryin' to teach this guy to be mean but ... it just don't work! Anyway, the other half of the Semifinals sees Twinkletoes Tiwilliger taking on "Mad Dog" Valentine for the second time. Mad Dog is hot on the heels of his overweight rival and he's already shown he can slam the Twink-man. Is Tiwilliger worried? We'll find out on HUGELive~! And after those two matches are settled up, people, if you wanna know who won the HUGE Heavyweight Tournament and became our champion ... you're gonna have to watch 3DW's Crowning Glory supercard. 3DW's crowning it's champs, we're crowning ours, it'll be one big gold-fest, people! IN THE MEANTIME ... you all know him, you all love him, he's Preston Mayfield! In his first big appearance in the ring on Chatterbox he's gonna be whoopin' some Glen Peeps for your Main Event joy. Check it! *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* [Arena. The semi-in-shape and camouflaged form of Glen "Private" Peeps walks uneasily down to the ring as "Taps" plays. The fans give a decent cheer for the long time journeyman who, as he reaches ringside, takes his GI cap off and puts it on a kid's head. Said kid smiles big and giggles.] BJ: Glen Peeps entering the ring. Glen, former assistant to wrestling legend Chris Stringer and a member of Operation: Scorched Earth back in 2002 or so. This should be an interesting one, Harvey. DJHV: You think? See, I was thinking you were sending another one of these poor hapless losers to an early grave against somebody tougher for the 1,000th time. BJ: Please! You think that Preston Mayfield is tough? DJHV: Has he ever even been pinned, Barn? Think about it! [Barney groans and falls silent as "Lies" by Keith John Adams plays. Out from the back, in his dirty singlet, wielding his giant black dildo. Climbing the ringsteps, Preston is denied entrance because of his weapon. After a tense moment of threatening to whack the referee with "King Dong", he gives it up and meets Peeps in the middle of the ring.] DJHV: Ref's patting him down. DJHV: Check his colon! He's gotta have something hidden on him. *DING!* *DING!* *DING!* =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= -Singles Match- Glen "Private" Peeps -vs- Preston Mayfield =HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE= [Peeps pounces on Mayfield, aggressively knocking Preston to the mat and stomping the stuffings out of him. Rather than trying to defend himself, Preston slides, rolls and crawls his way to the ring ropes. The referee backs Peeps up, warning him about striking a man who's retreated to the ropes.] BJ: Dammit, can I make this a no-DQ match? DJHV: Don't do that Barn. Don't be that kind of boss. [Barney grumbles and falls silent as the same scene plays out another 3 times. Finally, after getting hit about 100 times, Preston begs for mercy. Receiving none, he instead jabs an aggressive Peeps in the eye with a thumb. Rising, he kicks Peeps in the groin, getting a harsh jeer from the capacity crowd.] BJ: Just disqualify him! Dammit! [Preston presses the advantage, raking Peeps' back and shoving him between the ropes to the outside. While chewing Preston out, however, the referee fails to notice that someone else has come to ringside.] DJHV: Who is that? Is that Tre Jordan!? BJ: It is! Oh, this is getting interesting now! [As Peeps gets back in, Preston hip checks him to the floor again. More yelling, and Preston backs up, giving the ref room to count Peeps out. However, as Peeps get in, Preston sneaks up on the ref, picks his pocket and tosses what he finds into the crowd! BIG MIXED POP!] DJHV: What the? Holy hell, he just tossed the ref's wallet to some dude in the crowd! [Giving off a primal scream, the ref forgets himself and dives from the ring to retrieve his wallet. Meanwhile, Preston has recovered King Dong.] BJ: No! Dammit, someone do something! [And someone does! As Preston sizes Peeps up, Tre Jordan is in the ring, and cocking his hand back in readiness to strike Preston down!] DJHV: He's got his wallet! [As Preston hauls back, King Dong is snatched! With a massive, two-handed swing, he fells Preston Mayfield! The crowd gives off a mighty roar of approval as Jordan shoves Peeps onto Mayfield, drops King Dong, and rolls from the ring!] *DING!* *DING!* *DING!* BJ: Yes! Finally he takes some of his own medicine! DJHV: Holy *BLEEP*, Preston Mayfield loses to Glen Peeps!? [Running to the announce table, the ref gets in Harvey's ear.] DJHV: Nooo waaay... [Getting to his feet, Peeps raises a hand in victory as Preston sits up, groggy.] BJ: Are you kidding me?! [Jogging back, the ref witnesses along with everyone else as Preston hits a low blow uppercut on Peeps, grabs King Dong, and, seeing Jordan entering the ring again, runs for the hills.] DJHV: Folks, guess what? Preston Mayfield takes it on account of a disqualification! So much for takin' his own medicine, huh Barn? [In spite of everything, Tre helps Glen up and the two WWO alumni raise their hands in victory. Glen reassures Tre that he's fine, and-- *ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT* 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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| Overly_Critical_Jue | Nov 22 2010, 06:38 PM Post #2 |
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Amigo, I ain't anybody but Juan Vasquez!
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"Who is Star Man?" indeed.
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3:38 AM Jul 11