Fresh! Results24th January 2005
The Violence Meets The New F'n Evolution
FEATURING: SHAWN HARRIS, VINCE JONES, BARTENDER
AUTHORS: JAY AND JEFF
The camera slowly fades in and we catch sight of AWC newcomer, Shawn Harris sitting alone in the middle of a hustling and bustling bar in Kentucky. The camera pans and catches sight of another AWC newcomer, 'The Violence' Vince Jones as he turns and spots Harris sitting by himself at the counter. A cocky smirk crosses his face as he makes his way towards him and slaps him hard across the back catching him off guard.
Vince Jones: Well, well, well. If it ain't Jeff "All Fuckin' That" Harris. Long time no see, man. How you doin'?
Shawn rolls his eyes at Vince's mistake and just shakes his head
Shawn Harris: It’s Shawn Harris...
Vince Jones: Yeah, yeah. Whateva, man. Anyways, it turns out that you and V. Jones got a match tonight...
Shawn Harris nods a bit annoyed by Vince's stating of the obvious.
Shawn Harris: Yeah. I'm kind of aware of that. Thanks for pointing out the obvious. (in sarcasm) What would a man like me do without you? Seriously man, what would I do? How the fuck did I get dressed this morning without you there putting my socks on? I need to take a shit soon, will you be there to wipe my ass?
Vince laughs to himself, totally oblivious to Harris' words.
Vince Jones: ...but this ain't just any match, son. We talkin' 'bout a main event tag match here.
Vince puts a hand on Shawn Harris shoulder and Harris immediately shrugs it off.
Vince Jones: Picture this shit, man. Its 'bout to be the dawnin' of V. Jones ascent to the top of A Dubb C tonight, the beginnin' of the Age of Violence up in this joint. Ya feelin' The Violence on this here?
Shawn turns and looks at Vince and smirks.
Shawn Harris: What!? Are you fucking serious?
Vince Jones: Hold that thought, kid! (to bartender) Hey yo! Look at V when he talkin' to ya!
The bartender finally turns around and rushes over to serve.
Vince Jones: Double shot of Tanqueray for Jeff Harris here! ASAP!
The bartender: (nodding) Yes sir. Right away.
The bartender immediately rushes off to fill the order.
Shawn Harris: It’s Shawn! The name's Shawn! I already...
Vince throws up his hand signaling for Shawn Harris to chill out.
Vince Jones: Aight! We already established that shit! Anyways, we lookin' at 'The Violence' Vince Jones, Mr. AKA himself, versus a bitch named Aimz and some Ellis Nash hoe.
Shawn Harris: What about me?
Vince Jones looks at Shawn Harris in confusion.
Vince Jones: What about you, huh? V tryin' to paint a picture here and you immediately cuttin' in with crap like that? This ain't about you right now you, cocky ass bastard! (shakes his head) Eh, fuck it. Anyways, this might be the big match of the night and all, but this shit kinda below V here. The Violence feelin' like these cats just gonna be tryin' to capitalize on V's greatness in this one. Cats tryin' rise to the top on the back of "The Conqueror, The Killa, and The King" How else can this match-up be looked at? You got a star on one hand (points to himself) and on the other a bunch of flashlights with dyin' batteries. Who gonna shine brighter? Who the fuck gonna shine, huh? The star, V. Jones will. That shit's obvious and you best believe that!
Shawn Harris grumbles to himself and just shakes his head.
Shawn Harris: Well if your wrestling talent is as good as your grammar and ability to put together coherent sentences then I'm sure you’ll do great. How can Adam Boobs or whatever the fuck his name is compete with the main rasta Vinnie Jones?
The bartender returns with the shot of Tanqueray in hand and Vince turns his attention to the bartender. Shawn Harris pounds the counter in fury in response to being ignored again.
Vince Jones: Well, it’s about time you made it back!
Bartender: Tanqueray?
Vince Jones: No, Jack Daniels, bitch! Hell yeah V asked for the Tanqueray! What you on that you can't remember some simple shit like that, huh?
The bartender sets the shot down in front of Shawn Harris and rushes off. Vince turns his attention towards Shawn Harris once again.
Vince Jones: Now what were you tryin' to say a sec ago, Jeff?
Shawn Harris: (quivering with anger) My… name… is...
Vince Jones: Okay. That shit can wait. Drink up, son! That's some good shit right there.
Vince shoves the shot in Shawn Harris' face, but Harris quickly pushes it away in disgust.
Shawn Harris: That looks about as appetizing as that whore you walk around with.
Vince Jones snarls at the thought of the wasted alcohol and snatches up the shot.
Vince Jones: Well shit man if you ain't down then that's yo problem, but you really missin' out! Can't let that shit go to waste.
Vince Jones quickly gulps down the shot and sets the glass down.
Vince Jones: Now back to business. What about Pierce Lavelle, Adam Dick, Hate, cats like that? A Dubb C couldn't line up those pins for V to knock down? Instead he stuck fightin' the bitch and the ho. Guess ya gotta start it off somewhere. A lil warm-up tonight couldn't hurt.
Vince Jones chuckles to himself.
Vince Jones: So, how does it feel, huh?
Shawn Harris: (in confusion) About what? I really stopped listening to you about ten minutes before you entered this bar.
Vince Jones: How does it feel to know that you get the opportunity to debut alongside one of the greatest names this biz has ever seen?
Shawn Harris stands to his feet and looks Vince Jones up and down a bit unimpressed with what he sees.
Shawn Harris: That’s funny, I should ask you the same question, seriously Vinnie, how does it feel being teamed with the future of this business, you may be a pretty… well known name, but that has nothing to do with actual wrestling talent, something which I possess.
Vince Jones looks at Harris on confusion.
Vince Jones: Huh?
Shawn Harris: Don’t act fucking stupid, Vince. (points at Vince) You know it. (points at himself) I know it. The people sure as hell know it. Yes, the man that's soon gonna be sitting atop AWC did make his debut last week. The man that's gonna be turning heads in AWC in due time will be in that ring at the end of the night, but it's not you. (points to himself) It's me Shawn Harris, 'The New FUCKING Evolution'. The Natural Fucking Selection!
Vince Jones nods and the tension can be seen slowly building in Vince. His once cocky smirk is now replaced by an angry scowl. Vince Jones slowly lowers the dark shades on his face and begins to stare a hole through Shawn Harris.
Vince Jones: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the phone here. We gotta do a lil rewind cuz it seems like a whole lot of chatta was comin' out yo ass a sec ago. Now, let V. Jones get this shit straight here. You mean to tell V that you supposed to be the up and comin' hot shit up in A Dubb C? You poppin' off at the mouth talkin' 'bout how you supposedly a cut above 'The Violence' Vince Jones himself? Is V followin' ya right, son?
Harris gets up in Vince's face and just shakes his head in disappointment with him.
Shawn Harris: Did I stutter, Vinnie boy? Do you have a little too much of your boyfriend’s herbs and spices in your ear? What I say as I have proven since my career began is the fucking truth, when I guarantee something that means it’s going to happen you insignificant retard. You can talk all you want about V is this and V is that; but, from my perspective Vince Jones is and will always be nothing but New York City street scum! I once lived in Brooklyn with people with attitudes not much different from your own but the difference is Vince, I grew up, I got away from the filth, you can live in your little delusional world where this little man named Vince Jones rules over all, but sooner or later you're gonna have to wake up and realize that Evolution has just passed you by.
Vince Jones nods his head and folds his arms across his chest.
Vince Jones: Well, let The Violence fill you in on a lil somethin' somethin' here. In case you let this shit slip your mind or somethin'. V. Jones the man that once whupped yo bitch of a father's punk ass back in L-O Dubb you best believe that. V also hope that you know that he the man that ran yo bitch of a father's punk ass out the doors and on the street with the rest of the trash after beatin' him! Get it!? (leans in slightly closer) Got it!? (leans even closer) Good! (leans closer again) A war with 'The Violence' Vince Jones ain't what you want, son. You fuck with The Violence and you lookin' to start some shit you just can't win. That shit ain't what you want ...and that's real!
The tension begins to boil in Shawn Harris to a fever pitch.
Shawn Harris: Oh, is that so? Well, let me fill in the gaps for you now? First off, I'm not my father. The name Harris is where the comparisons end. My father never had a shred of the talent that I possess. Secondly, a war with you is a war that I can’t win? Well if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to have a crack at it anyway.
This infuriates Vince to no end while Shawn grins sadistically.
Shawn Harris: Believe it Vinnie, if you carry on with the way you’re going, your stay here will be very, VERY short.
Vince Jones nods his head as he tries to keep himself from blowing a gasket. He finally regains his composure and slides his dark shades back in place.
Vince Jones: Well, you know what? (points a finger at Harris) You're right. You ain't your father, but if V. Jones put the boots to your old man like it was nothin' a few years back what makes you think he won't do the same to yo ignant ass? And by V's estimates you ain't no betta than his sorry ass eva was... bitch!
Shawn Harris pauses for a moment and nods his head.
Shawn Harris: You running Jeff out of LOW is believable, he probably heard you speak and pissed him self literally laughing, the talent there I heard was pretty mediocre, this isn’t LOW, LOW is dead like your wrestling career, I am All Fucking That Evolutionized, did you not hear me last week?
Vince Jones: Oh, V heard everything you had to say last week. Don't get V wrong on that. And you nailed it on the head here. Evolution did make its natural selection. In fact its makin' its natural selection right now as we speak for yo punk ass to enter my hell, my realm, and my game in due time for you to get your sorry ass...SILENCED! 'Nuff said!
Vince Jones slowly begins backing away and flashes both of his middle fingers at Shawn Harris. Vince turns and pushes his way through the crowd while Shawn just grins cockily as the camera slowly fades to black.
Introduction
FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The “AWC in 2006” logo fills the screen, and then fades away to show a darkened arena. Abrupt fireworks on the stage, cheers, and then the lights suddenly flash bright with the grungy beginnings of “E-Pro” by Beck. The fans in the Memorial Coliseum go wild, screaming their lungs out as the video screen bursts into action with highlights of 2005. All the big spots are there: Hate tossing Pierce Lavelle off the bus in the Streets Of London match; Jack Murphy’s flying Bull Charge on Tim Shipley in the Triangles structure; Lavelle’s Whiplash to send Alexander Strider into the fire at Solarized; and many more.
See me coming to town with my soul
Straight down out of the world with my fingers
Holding onto the devil I know
All my troubles will hang on your trigger
Take your eyes and your mind from the road
Shoot your mouth off but look where you’re aiming
Don’t forget to pick up what you sow
Talking trash to the garbage around you
The Transatlantic title belt fills the screen, momentarily fading through to a shot of Adam Dick, a sneer on his face having overcome Pierce Lavelle for the Transatlantic title last week, the gold draped across his shoulder. And then it’s white light.
Truth Waters: FRESHEN UP, ladies and gentlemen!
George Cassidy: I'm sure you’ve used that one before, Truth...
Truth Waters: That may be the case, but it’s hella hard to think of a line to open the show other than “OH MAH GAWWWD!”
George Cassidy: Is it?
Truth Waters: Ya.
George Cassidy: Alright, maybe I’ll open the show from now on...
Truth Waters: Do it, then!
George Cassidy: What?
Truth Waters: Do it now. REWIND. Pretend like we never started.
George Cassidy: I... I can’t think –
Truth Waters: HA!
George Cassidy: Your point is...?
Truth Waters: Oh, shut up Cassidy. I’ve got important news for everyone at home, and I'm afraid it isn’t good news either so I don’t want to have to shout it. If we could...
The music fades away and the crowd, surprised at not getting to hear the full song, jump as Truth and George’s words are suddenly amplified throughout the arena.
George Cassidy: HELLO? HELLO? HE –
Truth Waters: Will you just... thank you. Folks, we’ve cut the intro a little short tonight because AWC this week received a severe blow in the form of some news we received following the samples Pierce Lavelle gave on last week’s Fresh!.
An immediate hubbub builds.
George Cassidy: But those were clean, right?
Truth Waters: They were clean, yes. However, the convoluted story woven by Adam Dick has not escaped the attention of the federal drugs in sport administration, and the day after Fresh! David Harber was contacted by officials wanting to see Lavelle right away. Of course, Pearl complied, knowing that Lavelle was clean. He had to take another urine test, and, ah... it came up positive.
There is uproar in the crowd.
George Cassidy: Whoa! That can’t be!
Truth Waters: That’s what I would have said, Cassidy... Lavelle was immediately told that he would not be wrestling again until further investigation had been carried out. That’s why he didn’t have a match booking tonight. But just this morning, there was a hearing... a very important hearing at the administration board that would decide Lavelle’s future. Lavelle went along with Pearl to plead his case, but – well, I don’t know how to say this, but it certainly didn’t seem like a level playing field. The US has had enough scandal in sports and it seemed like they wanted to set an example. Suffice to say... Pierce Lavelle has been banned from wrestling –
Mutinous cries from the crowd threaten to drown out Truth’s words.
Truth Waters: For twelve months, starting today.
George Cassidy: Impossible!
Chants for ”LA-VELLE! LA-VELLE! LA-VELLE!” are rocking the disbelieving arena. And how CAN they believe? The man who has been at the head of AWC since the dawn of time now can’t compete, due to a drugs ban. The history of the Transatlantic championship: Alexander Strider, Prometheus user, died in suspicious circumstances possibly relating to use of the drug; The Educator, Prometheus user, fired after using the drug to win three title belts in one night; and now Pierce Lavelle: Prometheus user? Unbelievable. We want to know it was forcibly injected, like last time. We want to know he had no intent, like last time. But no further information is available – indeed, no further information is allowed to be released yet – and it’s the lack of detail that’s killing everyone.
George Cassidy: What does this mean for AWC?!
Truth Waters: An easy ride for Adam Dick, I’d guess! His most major challenger gone for a YEAR! That’s Bloodlust, Coast To Coast, Triangles 2006... he’ll miss it all! Banned until January 23rd, 2007... I don’t believe it. Can’t we get this overturned in some way?
George Cassidy: I suppose there’ll be an appeal... but Truth, do we WANT it overturned?
Truth Waters: Er, what?
George Cassidy: This could be a blessing in disguise, allowing our top talents like Jack Murphy to move into the upper echelon where they deserve to be. Perhaps Pierce Lavelle’s presence was making AWC stale, perhaps –
Truth Waters: Perhaps I'm not talking to you.
The First (And Second) Reply
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND MIKE WADE
The arena darkens, leaving the sole source of light in the arena spare the camera flashes as the main video screen, glowing an iridescent dull black.
Truth Waters: And – okay, who starts a show like this?
George Cassidy: Someone with a gimmick in mind, that’s who!
A sound feed begins playing; the background filled with distant church bells and constant foot-steps. The noise belongs to that of a radio newsfeed, believed to be taken sometime earlier this week.
Reporter: In today’s wrestling news: the ever-controversial Adam Dick has just won the Transatlantic Championship under the alias of the Illustrious Face-Eater. Wrestling insiders are running wild trying to rearrange other roster member’s on-screen appeal, for fear of a wipeout of less fortunate talent on the top of the card. Although while no-one knows what his plans are for the Title, resources tell me a number of less fortunate wrestlers have joined together in a conspiracy to assassinate the character of not only Mr. Dick, but of the Unfuckables as well.
The sound of the church bells begins to grow closer.
Reporter: David Harber, the alleged ring-leader of it, is furious at Adam- excuse me, the Face-Eater’s assault on Purse Lavelle, Hate, and several other AWC wrestlers. Vince James, from “Ebonics be my gimmick” fame, Shawn “You SAY you’re dad’s famous but we both know that’s bullshit” Harris or whatever, and some other corny sounding mother fuckers are understandably shaken up by his Championship win. The question everybody wants to know is, why did they get this mother fucker started? Adam, rather Face-Eater, was not available for comment, but released this statement...
Now the church bells have grown so loud the vibrations of their ring begin to shake from their mounts, but Adam’s voice is still recognizable over the hasty church bells.
Adam Dick: It’s not about faces and heels. It’s about real men and pussies, power and money, bad-ass mother fuckers and fake-ass shit-eating assheads. Which side are you on?
A gun cocks. Six shots fire, followed by the shells hitting the floor.
Adam Dick: These shit-eaters are still fucking talking? You fake-ass assheads are still breathing? Fucking roaches, aight aight, it’s the raid for you cockroaches.
The church bells flow seamlessly into “Bomb First (my first reply)” by Makaveli.
Truth Waters: This isn’t the Transatlantic Champion’s music.
George Cassidy: A new change for the year — I like it, it’s pretty thuggin.
Truth Waters: Thuggin?!
As the music kicks into 2Pac’s verse, the lights turn to an incandescent veil of crimson, casting over the entire arena. The color is red, of course, because red. is. hard. kore.
Adam Dick appears, standing at the top of the stage as if he had teleported in front of the curtain. He was fucking ninja-like in that way, but with the fans taking notice of his presence also comes the accommodating jeers from the Memorial Coliseum. The Transatlantic championship, in all of its glamorous majesty, strapped firmly around his skinny waste while the Alliance championship hung from his shoulder.
James Brunt looks on rather displeased from the ringside; dreading the upcoming task of giving him a microphone. Their miniscule war had been anything but pleasing thus far, and the man wasn’t likely to have a change of heart having just won the highest accolade their employer had to offer.
But as Adam nears the ring, a confident stride with a matching grin, Brunt realizes that he has a microphone of his own in his hand. His ring announcing duties weren’t necessary for the moment, which causes him to breathe a sigh of relief.
Adam climbs in the ring, the red fading out and the lights returning to normal. “Bomb First” fades out as Adam begins to pace around the ring with what looks like a thousand thoughts on his mind. The fans’ booing has become immense.
Adam Dick: Lexington! I would have something funny to say right here to make fun of your state, but frankly jokes about the South are for “ig’nant” folk and I don’t know enough about your boring state to actually say anything clever. So you have to settle with being deemed shit-heads for the evening, FOR ROYALTY HAS ARIVED!
Of course, the fans’ aren’t exactly thrilled that the man standing before them is their Transatlantic champion, after his cheap finish last week against Pierce Lavelle. Adam wasn’t concerned with the past though; he is always a man looking forward...
Unless of course he’s making fun of someone for the past. Then the past is allowed!
Adam Dick: Yes yes, come one and all! Come see the LEGEND that defeated “THE UNBEATABLE” Purse Lavelle, the steroid monkey; a man who before was only defeated by the Educator, ANOTHER steroid monkey. Come to think of that, considering his corpse and the corpse of Alex Strider, AWC has NOT had a single Transatlantic Champion that hasn’t been hopped up on that juice.
George Cassidy: Oh that’s low.
Truth Waters: Come on, these accusations are arguable at best.
Adam Dick: That is, until the Illustrious Face-Eater came along. You see, I don’t need these supplements, or training, or working out! I’m a bad-ass mother fucker, and in case you didn’t get the memo, I’M A FUCKING THUG. I showed Lavelle that I don’t fuck around, and then he decided to ruin his life by poisoning his body. It’s the small price to pay for interacting with the best, baby, because when it comes to the Face you know we don’t play any games. WE PLAY FOR KEEPS, AND WE PLAY TO KILL. Everyone in my fucking camp knows it and we’ll ride until the mother fucking end. Do you think Pierce Lavelle wants any more of this? Do you think that failed soap-opera actor has gotten the picture by now? He’s done with me because he can’t hang. He was scared at Triangles and had to inject his shit up, just so he was able to pull out a cheap win.
Now, small pockets of the crowd have started their own separate chants of “cheater” and “asshole” but the Face pays them no mind.
Adam Dick: Just like I toppled the “best” AWC had to offer, I’ve toppled the “best” Core had to offer. Pierce Lavelle or Buddy Kingfisher, it doesn’t matter because you’re all just fuel to the drive that sure as fuck ain’t stopping here. That’s probably why Buddy took off, but I really think it’s because he saw how bad I was fucking up Lavelle, he took a step back and was like “DAMN! I’m not fucking with him again.”
Truth Waters: Wow, hyperbole much?
George Cassidy: Shut up, Truth; that ‘much’ bullshit isn’t hip!
Adam Dick: It really isn’t surprising to see scrubs like Mapleleaf, who couldn’t even hold his own at Triangles when he had to be carried through by me and... *shudder* Tim Shipley, claiming that they’re responsible for scaring Buddy off. I mean that is logical, right? He did get snowballs thrown at him, correct? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense; getting snowballs thrown at you usually ends up with the perpetrator being struck with a fearful afterthought. DENIAL MUCH, PAL?
George Cassidy: ...
Truth Waters: Come on, you want to laugh!
George Cassidy: Well, it’s funny when he does it.
Adam Dick: And that’s what I came out here to address: All these mid-carders jocking on my dick. I came out here tonight to set the stage for the new year. Last week, everyone was mentioning the name “Adam Dick” and “Face-Eater” as if it were a fucking epidemic. Yes, EVERYONE has an opinion about the Face-Eater. I found it fitting, that for tonight only, the Face would come to the ring with a song that fits my agenda. “Bomb First.” It’s Tupac’s reply to everyone who couldn’t keep his name out of their mouths. And that’s what I’m doing tonight, because for some reason or another, everyone wants a piece of the Face-Eater.
Truth Waters: Well, he IS the Transatlantic champion.
George Cassidy: Wow, I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for so long...
Adam Dick: I mean, not only is Ellis Nash trying to schlob on my knob like corn on the cobb, but rumor has it that Aimz has her eye on me. Not that I have a thing for red-heads; honestly, I find the things disgusting, but that’s not the point. The point is; I’M the shit. And not just me, but the Unfuckables. Alliance Champions. Relentless Champion. And now, the Transatlantic Champion. I did a little math, figured that with the Frontier Championship being vacant; the Atlantic Wrestling Club is facing an UNFUCKABLE MONOPOLY. Now I’ve never finished a single game of that shit and damn sure never won that stupid McDonald’s contest, but I do know that the Wade Parade and the Illustrious Face-Eater are owning shit in AWC.
Oh boy, the audience is seething at this unfortunate yet undeniable truth, but it can’t stop the Face from ranting.
Adam Dick: Just as we’re the hot shits of the fucking circuit, it’s only fitting that we’re the topic of everyone’s minds. Not only the bitches that are grinding on me, but some of the roster members can’t seem to keep our names out of their mouths. Even newcomers like Captain Suleimon seem to afford opinions with their tag-team winning streak that really means nothing at all. I thought I showed everyone with Kingfisher what happens when newbs raise their voice with opinions. “Another Evolution Nickname” Shawn Harris is also committing the Blasphemy sin, claiming to be ‘a name synonymous with wrestling.’ If you keep the route you’re going with all this name dropping and we happen to cross paths, the name Shawn Harris will be synonymous with ‘Adam Dick’s asshair,’ because even I can admit that’s pretty insignificant.
George Cassidy: Okay, now that’s pretty funny!
Adam Dick: That goes for Collision Course, or I should probably say that douchebag running around calling himself the Alliance Champ, when the only thing I saw hanging around him was a stunt double from Rumble in the Bronx. It seems Harber’s beefening up his duo division in some lame effort to get the belts off of the Unfuckables — a feat he’ll never claim. These Norton & Bridges fellows can join the circle jerk because that’s the most action they’ll be seeing. Pleasure & Pain? Shit, I’ll show that bitch pleasure and pain outside of the ring; she didn’t need to go join the tag-division with her lame ass husband who’s basically begging to be put out by the rest of us to have our way with his wife. Tempered Steel’s about as interesting as their debut—beating up security guards. I mean, come on, it was one thing to see Furious Fists of God do it at the last supercard, but now we get a half-assed remake? With some twatty managerial character? And you guys say you’re going to bring “prestige” to the Alliance Titles. HAH! What’s more prestigious than the two top Singles wrestlers in this fed keeping the tag-scene on lock down? You’re right, some assface we’ve never heard of is more prestigious than the Transatlantic Champion holding the belt! LOLZZWHATEV. (deep breath) And who the fuck is Vince Jones?!
A pretty decent pop results from Adam’s question.
Adam Dick: The guy is a walking cardboard cut-out, and I can see his entire personality coated on top like a veneer. I haven’t heard of the mother fucker until now, and I was a better person because of it, but now that my ears and eyes and brain have been tainted with knowledge of his existence I have to suffer; wondering how an literal bag of shit like him could justify existence without slit-wrists in a bath tub. The dude needs a lame ass nick-name to prefix his agenda—I let my actions speak louder than my words. Not only how bad I can fuck with Pierce Lavelle, but in my everyday life. The British Bomber’s “Funeral” was a perfect example; crushing every one of his struggling family members in their futile attempts to harm us, and then we set what we sought to do. We started a fucking riot.
Truth Waters: Jesus, the very act set pro-wrestling standards back years.
George Cassidy: But it was pretty interesting.
Truth Waters: I can’t believe this guy is considered the golden-boy of wrestling.
George Cassidy: Truth, people don’t use that term anymore. Get out of the fucking 50s!
Adam Dick: Honestly, explain how you can live with yourself, hearing the sound of your voice and STILL not consider yourself an idiot? Honestly!? You make Master P look like an Oxford Graduate. NO, not Jay-Z. No, not even lame-ass 50 Cent. Not even Snoop Dogg and his lame ass lizzzanguage he ripped off. MASTER P. That’s going pretty far down the rap ladder for a comparison; an insult only someone as BLACK as you would understand.
Whoa, edgy. Only an Unfuckable could teeter on the race lines like that.
Adam Dick: OH IT’S SUCH A GREAT TIME TO BE A FAN OF AWC, RIGHT?! What with Cult Icons like Hate, and not in the “hipster’s fan favorite” sense but in the actual “fucking manatees is like drinking communion wine” cults. Not only are we harboring creeps that paint their face red to hide themselves from being recognized on the FBI’s Most Wanted, but we’ve got superstars of an ECLECTIC variety. Want a boring Martial Artist? We’ve got Anton Assault for you! How about HSW rejects? NO, Chris KarMichael, EVEN WORSE! Teresa Tomas and the WARRHAMMER! JASON WARR! Yeah, we strive for mediocrity here in the AWC folks.
Truth Waters: Now it’s like he’s calling out names.
George Cassidy: He’s proving a point, Truth!
Adam Dick: Yeah yeah, AWC SURE AS HELL is going to surpass PRIME, I mean we’ve already had our quota filled of “having two superstars of the same name” what with the DAMIEANS and all. With two people sharing a shitty name, you know we’re serving up lack-luster entertainment ALL YEAR ROUND! Oh, wonderful AWC, always supporting known psycho’s that make Hate seem grounded to reality by comparison. You want Bible-Thumping racists? WE’VE GOT THE FURIOUS FAGS OF GOD! You want pedophilia? Don’t feel ashamed, WE’VE GOT CHAINZ! He has sex with little boys so YOU don’t have to, yet still allow you to feel slightly satisfied.
By now, the face on Adam’s has gone sour and he begins to sneer.
Adam Dick: A fucking great time in AWC?! It seems to me like AWC is IN THE SHITTER. This fed is so fucking gay! If the roster isn’t looking sad enough at this point, we’ve got people like Butterfly Hamada to make it worse. And it seems like her only purpose is to LOSE to Jack Murphy. JACK MURPHY! The “THROWBACK TO WRESTLING” who can’t even beat a ‘Roid Monkey like Lavelle. I’m sorry, AWC fans, but 2006 is looking like a shitty year for you all.
The fans are livid, most of them throwing cups as often as insults. Restlessness begins to fill the arena, as well as the voices of our two announcers.
Truth Waters: This guy is such an ass.
Adam Dick: BUT, there is a glimmer of hope! There is one bright spot in the skies for all of you to keep your heads up, because if this is any indication, 2006 may not be so bad after all. For Mike Wade and I are DOUBLE CHAMPIONS. That’s right! Your Alliance, Relentless, and TRANSATLANTIC Champions, THE UNFUCKABLES, are setting the stage for the New Year! Hey AWC, have you noticed that there isn’t ONE CHAMPION on the roster who ISN’T an Unfuckable?
Adam’s grim look turns to the grin of a bastard, smiling at the fallen fate of his enemies.
Adam Dick: OH, it is a great time to be a fan of the Unfuckables.
The fans boo.
Adam Dick: Wow, it just doesn’t feel right, does it; Me doing this whole promo by myself? I mean, I wanted this to be my reply; my state of the AWC address for all those faggots who think that the AWC is a sure-shot to success. But I can’t do it without my partner in crime who’s helped me achieved so much! Come on, Mike Wade, get your Irish ass out here!
"Jump Around" by House of Pain hits and the crowds attention turns to the entrance way. The boos already begun at the sheer mention of Wades name. Mike makes his appearance through the curtain and the arena again erupts in boos. Wade has his Relentless title around his waist and his half of the Alliance titles draped over his right shoulder. His smile is as wide as a house as the boos run off him like water off a ducks back. Half way down the entrance ramp he goes to his knees as if praising Adam Dick for his efforts and Adam does the same for Wade.
Truth Waters: This is disgusting. If these two men were all over each other any more they'd be in league with Steven Smith.
George Cassidy: What do you mean? It's called giving credit where credit is due Truth.
Wade slides into the ring and Adam and he go for a handshake, which is determined as "not enough" and they both hug to the disgust of the live audience.
Truth Waters: Oh please pass me the bucket.
George Cassidy: Maybe Fredrock is around somewhere he might have one.
Mike Wade: Hey Face you know what I've just realised?
Adam Dick: What's that Mike?
Mike Wade: I'm just looking here and I see that every champion in AWC right now is in the ring!
Adam and Mike burst out laughing however the audience let them know what they think with heat city.
Mike Wade: You know they say the greatest book has yet to be written, the greatest film has yet to be made. The greatest song has yet to be sung and the greatest game has yet to be played. But never fear ladies and gentlemen greatness is here, his name's Mike Wade!
Truth Waters: Could this guy be any cockier?
George Cassidy: If you had two titles and the record the Wade has you'd be cocky too.
Mike Wade: A lot of people have asked me am I jealous of Adam Dick. The answer is yes. Yes I am jealous.
A sound of shock goes up through the arena and across the face of Adam Dick.
Truth Waters: Huh?
George Cassidy: HUH????
Mike Wade: I'm jealous that the Face got to rip on every single one of the pathetic roster that AWC is sporting at the moment and he left none for me! He mentioned them all except one really. And funny it should be that way. He didn't mention... Paddy.
The crowd erupts with the mention of the one hero perhaps they have left.
Mike Wade: You know rumor had it that just a few days ago Paddy was due to quit AWC. You know why? It wasn't because of backstage arguments and money issues like the "internet" would have you believe. No, it was because I, Mike Wade, have destroyed his life, his existence, his being so much. Since I got here to AWC I have made Paddy O’Shea's life a living hell. I've hit him with a van, almost thrown him to his death, kissed his slut girlfriend and beat him and his shithouse brother for the Alliance titles. Rumor has it Paddy couldn't take anymore and wanted to take the low road.
Mike Wade: You people make me sick cheering for such a low life. If life were a pair of underpants Paddy O’Shea would be the label that won't stop sticking up your arse. For months, since we got here the AWC "powers that be" tried to make it like that goofball was the face of this company, along with Purse Lavelle. We've gotten rid of one, and judging from the last time we say O’Shea he's gone too. The evidence is there in black and white. Who has all the belts in AWC? WE DO! Go to AWC's official site. Whose face is on the front? MINE! The Unfuckables are the forefront of this federation, we run the show and as if we didn't before, this man -
Pointing to Adam Dick.
Mike Wade: - this man just won the biggest prize in this promotion. And it's about fucking time. If you people and AWC don't like Unfuckable domination you only have yourselves to blame. Myself and The Face were brought together through a common stage. We both were being held back so guys like Hate, Lavelle and O’Shea could hog main events. But now look what you've done! You chose to ignore us and we took what we wanted ourselves. The era of Fuck is upon you, now all bow down to us!
Wade awaits the fans to actually bow down but all he gets is an "Asshole" chant.
Truth Waters: Is he serio- Oh get up Cassidy.
George Cassidy: Sorry.
Mike Wade: There are 8,500 people in this building and let me tell you all something, I hate every one of your stupid little guts.
Naturally that didn't go down well.
Truth Waters: Mike Wade is great at making friends not only here in the US but all over the Atlantic.
Mike Wade: Wait a second… I just realised something. The Frontier title is vacant. But the thing is I like the fact that the only people holding belts in AWC are Unfuckable.
George Cassidy: Me too! It's great.
Truth Waters: Remove your head from Wade’s ass.
Mike Wade: Well it appears my mission is simple. I'm already the first ever PURE double champion in AWC history - I now have to become the first ever PURE triple champion in AWC history. My aim is clear - become Frontier champion. But remember this: nobody is safe in AWC. Wrestlers, managers, men, women or children. Because the way we're looking at it from now on if you're not with us - YOU'RE FUCKED!
The Norton & Bridges Sing-Along
FEATURING: NORTON & BRIDGES, AIMZ, PLEASURE AND PAIN
AUTHORS: RYAN KEANEY, KATIE AND ADAM ST. OURS
Opening up to the corridors of the Memorial Coliseum the AWC camera panned from right to left attempting to find its subject for the footage. Moving around, the camera quickly focused on Chuck Norton and Russell “Hash Brown” Bridges standing at the door of their locker room. The two men were wearing the same gigging outfits as they sported last week and carrying their guitars.
Chuck Norton: So if we leave this door open and start playing, people will hear the music and come join in… It can be our very own sing-along…
The speech sounded really scripted as Chuck spoke and then the pair quickly disappeared into their locker room. It was a really cheap way of getting the camera interested in what they were doing but hey, it worked.
Turning a corner into the locker room, the camera is quickly fronted with the sight of Chuck Norton and Hash Brown sitting around a “campfire” with a large “Wild, Wild West” movie poster on the wall. The fire basically yellow and red card cut up in a “choppy” manner and simply arranged to look like a dodgy fire.
Chuck Norton: Welcome to the Wild Wild West AWC fans! Hit it, Russ!
As though willing to implode the ears of every Atlantic Wrestling Club fan in the world and even pretty much anyone who has a love for music, Russell Bridges begins to strumming an acoustic version of Will Smith’s ‘huge hit’ “Wild, Wild West” and yes, Chuck Norton is singing the song.
“When I roll into the (Wild, Wild West)
When I stroll into the (Wild, Wild West)
When I bounce into the (Wild, Wild West)”
And don’t worry, the New York native is going to do the Sisqo part as well.
“We going straight to the Wild, Wild West
we going straight to the Wild, Wild West!!!”
Finishing with the patented Norton & Bridges three notes of flourish the two Country and Western performers grow huge grins across their faces as the camera stays focused on them.
“Wow… Chuck Norris likes it Big Willy Style!”
Spinning away from the two performing cowboys, the camera follows the direction that the voice came and there standing in the doorway, with her arms folded was Aimz.
Aimz: Mid-nineties, B-list movie soundtracks? C'mon, guys... even you jerkoffs can do better than that.
Chuck Norton: Well hello to you too, Amy.
Aimz simply smirks in response.
Russ Bridges: Care to join us for a sing-along… We know some Eden’s Crush if you’re interested?
Aimz: If I hear either of you attempt to sing again, I'm going to bash MYSELF in the head with a chair until my hearing or consciousness fails.
Chuck Norton: Okay… Or not…
Strumming at his guitar, Chuck Norton throws Russ a telling look and then begins to play a gentle melody.
But before they can begin to start singing they are cut off.
Aimz: That song sucked last week, and it's sucking again now. Should I just cut off your fingers?
Bored of playing with the two rookie wrestlers, Aimz vacated the doorway. Undeterred by her comments, Hash Brown begins to play the opening few notes of another song.
Chuck coughs, but settling himself to sing.
”I don't need to be anything other
Than a prison guard's son
I don't need to be anything other
Than a specialist's son
I don't have to be anyone other
Than the birth of two souls in one
Part of where I'm going, is knowing where I'm coming from…”
Strumming a littler harder, Russ joins Chuck on vocals as the pairing prepare for the chorus of Gavin DeGraw’s classic “I Don’t Want To Be”…
“What are you doing?”
The music is cut and the mood ruined as the screeching voice pierces through the minds of Chuck and Russ. The two men are ripped from their music “buzzes” that they get when performing songs. Looking up, Norton & Bridges by the sight of Tiara Belle Russell at the door with her hands of hips.
Chuck Norton: We WERE singing one of our favourite songs…
Tiara Belle Russell: What is all this? The poster… The cheap imitation fire… The camera… You better not be pulling a stunt like you did last week!
Chuck sighs.
Chuck Norton: Listen… “Tiara”… We are just having a bit of a sing-along with a few of the other guys on the roster… Just a bit of fun… You can either stay and join us or go to the hospital and get that stick removed…
Tiara Belle Russell: No, no… You aren’t singing any more songs… Wayne and I are in the locker room next door so you had better keep it down.
Russ Bridges: Try and stop us…
As Russ’ words echo into the corridor, Wayne Russell steps into the doorway to cast a shadow over Norton & Bridges. Wayne’s look is unrelenting as he stares straight at the two men.
Chuck Norton: Quiet time?
Russ Bridges: No problem…
The British Bomber vs Jack Murphy
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: JAMIE FLETCHER
The internet fans perch from their seats each wetting themselves with excitement as the seasoned technical veterans The British Bomber and Jack Murphy tie up. The hype surrounding this opening match is huge. All week message boards have been argued over with countless breaking of kayfabe in an effort to get behind the AWC bookers brains in the match. Who was going over??? However when the bell rung loud the arena was silent and to work they went.
First off Bomber made a vain attempt of running himself around Jack Murphy who was quick to teach Bomber a lesson, nailing him in the temple with a short distanced elbow which sent him back around. Bomber not getting the message tried again and this time Murphy hit an elbow that knocked him off completely. Reverting back to the tie up Murphy has greater dominance then before. Murphy is able to pressure Bomber into the corner of the ring but the FAW legend using his elderly skills at the last minutes diverts his path from the ropes and instead bounces off of the ring cables and swings the momentum back into his control.
Bomber pushes Jack Murphy’s left hand off of his shoulder and then using his free hand locks Jack Murphy’s right hand into a submission hold. Wasting little time Bomber’s right arm shoots up to support his left hand. Having been there so many times before it is natural for Jack Murphy to get as low as he can and flip/roll out of the move but Bomber having been there also to many times to count follows Murphy’s every move rolling forward and then back and onto their feet… Murphy then tries a little flip but Bomber does the same. The crowd goes wild and claps like crazy as Jack Murphy and The British Bomber stand back in the same position Bomber still with the submission on Jack Murphy.
Making the first move Bomber goes to hook the other arm of Jack Murphy but Murphy crouches down and fireman launches The British Bomber onto the floor. Then with The British Bomber on the mat, Jack Murphy applies a sleeper hold in an attempt to make The British Bomber give up. Showing his dedication for wrestling and the amount of time he still spends in the gym The British Bomber begins to fight back against Jack Murphy’s dominant submission. Slowly but surely The British Bomber struggles onto his knees and stumbles onto his feet… as he does Jack Murphy breaks the hold and wasting no time drives his knee into the skull of The British Bomber. In one swift action he catches Bomber on the downfall readmitting the sleeper hold.
Bomber’s right hand frantically searches for a ring cable to grab onto but the quest is meaningless as Jack Murphy skillfully backs into the middle of the ring. Never giving up Bomber continually reaches out pushing for the sides of the ring but Jack Murphy falls backwards before Bomber can take a grip on the cable… and in the middle of the ring The British Bomber lays finding himself being choked out by Jack Murphy.
The FAW Veteran struggles as Jack Murphy attempts to cement his control further by wrapping his legs around The British Bomber’s stomach. The move cynically aids Bomber who manages to use Jack Murphy’s legs momentum to push himself into the air into a handstand position, Jack Murphy realigns himself for a snap tombstone but before he can hit it Bomber exposes the weakness of the submission at that point in the assault from Murphy.
TWACK!!! Huge kick from The British Bomber connects with the rising Jack Murphy, hitting him just to the right of the spine. Jack pops up onto his feet like a rocket and turns to face Bomber; he automatically fires at him with a clothesline but Bomber ducks the clothesline… sharp thinking allows Murphy to dodge any harm and jump up onto the cable… spinning in the air Murphy cross body’s The British Bomber flooring him. Down goes the referee…
One!
Two!
… No TBB kicks out!!!
TBB makes a Hogan like recovery bursting onto his feet. A surprised and puzzled Jack Murphy watches TBB in amazement as the old guy powers himself up like a battery charger. However The British Bomber’s efforts are rather in vain, his spirit of effort is meet by sheer brutality at the hands of Murphy who counters one stampeding punch from The British Bomber with a perfect head butt.
With Bomber in the middle of the ring for his taking Jack Murphy sprints at him and takes him down with spear… Bomber hits the mat hard and again Jack Murphy lifts one leg up for the pin.
One!
Two!
A second time in a row TBB escapes defeat. The British Bomber isn’t able to Hulk up this time and instead is led to his feet by Jack Murphy. Jack throws Bomber into the corner of the ring and from there Jack begins to explode on Bomber like a step child… beating him black and blue with his boot… one… two…. Three… four… five… and a sixth stomp. Grabbing Bomber by the right arm Jack drags him out into the middle of the ring… and holding the right arm at full stretch Jack Murphy smashes his other elbow into the shoulder joint on The British Bomber’s arm and then on the shoulder joint of hit.
Jack then proceeds to step over and sit down on The British Bomber’s arm. Bomber looks for the ropes, his arms can’t reach anywhere as Jack Murphy continues to apply pressure to TBBs arm…
THR BRITISH BOMBER TAPS TO THE PAIN!!!! IT’S ALL TOO MUCH FOR THE BRITISH BOMBER!!! AND THIS OPENING MATCH IS OVER AND IT’S BEEN A QUICK ONE!!! AS JACK MURPHY BEATS THE BRITISH BOMBER BY SUBMISSION IN NO TIME AT ALL.
Play That Chinky Music White Boy I
FEATURING: BUTTERFLY HAMADA, SAGE, THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD
AUTHORS: TASO AND SAM LANDRY
George Cassidy: Our backstage cameras are picking up some footage... looks like someone is arriving to the arena. Oh goody! What AWC superstar is going to make their gra- OH CRAP! It's Butterfly Hamada. She's still here?
Truth Waters: Megumi "Butterfly" Hamada losing a tough match last week to Liam Martin. You should give the girl a break, Cassidy. Her boyfriend got attacked and put out of commission. Plus she is in a new promotion, a new country.
George Cassidy: Love it or leave it, baby!
Truth Waters: Let's see what's going on.
A taxi cab pulls up to the rear entrance of the arena, and out steps Megumi Hamada. She is dressed in a sweat suit and sneakers, and has her gym bag containing her wrestling gear at her side. She pays the taxi driver who smiles at her between rotting teeth before speeding off in a wide turn and a cloud of dust. Hamada looks around for second before heading into the entrance doorway. Security checks her pass and she hits the corridor, intent on heading to her dressing room and closing the door.
Near the women's shower, Sage is talking on a small silver cellphone when Megumi walks by, causing Sage to hang up the phone.
Sage: Hey, Butterfly!
Megumi turns to face Sage. She doesn't know the young girl at all, but she has seen her around and watched one of her matches.
Butterfly Hamada: Oh, hello.
Sage: Before you flip out or anything, let me fill you in on something. I don't like The Martins or any of these other chauvinist pigs. I know you lost to one of those idiots last week, but I also saw you beat Jack Murphy. What an asshole that guy is, huh?
Butterfly Hamada: Thank you, and... yes. I am looking forward to facing all of these wrestlers in the ring and proving to them that women can wrestle as well as men.
Sage: Yeah, well, after last week and your match with Liam. Let's just say I think it got to his head a little. Look.
Sage walks over to the end of the hallway and throws a set of double doors open. Megumi walks through looking a little puzzled and a little curious. She sees a bunch of people standing around a table that has been set up by the Furious Fists. Stacks of books litter the table. On the cover is a picture of an Asian woman with a big red "X" across her face. Some people are laughing.
Tim Martin: Heathens, White Lord Fearers, and the ultimate sinners!
Liam Martin: LISTEN UP!
Tim Martin: We have listened to our White Lord, and he has told us, informed us, BREATHED HIS MIGHTY WISDOM UPON US! He has helped us write this new novel... A NON-FICTION, WHITE-LORD ABIDING MASTERPIECE!
Liam Martin: What's that brother Tim?
Tim Martin:: I'll tell you, brother. This book! Right here! "The Slant-Eyed Devil Women and how Mail Order Brides Destroy the White Lord's Children", by Tim & Liam Martin. And God as well.
Liam Martin: Just ask Woody Allen.
Tim Martin: Yeah, but that small-penised fool is a Jew. The white Lord shits them into the toilet, and his cat eats them in poo-form. Pick up your very own copy! "Slant-Eyed Devil Women"!
Megumi walks up to the table with a blank expression on her face, and throws a bunch of book off the table and onto the floor.
Butterfly Hamada: Is this serious? Are you two... serious? ????????????????!!!!
Sage: Uh oh.
Butterfly Hamada: ?????? ?? ????? ??? ??????????!
Tim Martin: WOMAN OF HELL, YOU HAVE RESISTED TOO MUCH! STOP YOUR HARLOT AND JEZZEBEL WAYS AND ACCEPT THIS NOVEL OF TRUTH AS IT IS!
Butterfly Hamada: ??? ????!
Tim Martin: She speaks in sins! Naughty, naughty sins! DO NOT LISTEN!
SLAP!
Hamada lays one right across Tim Martin's face. The crowd gasps in anticipation. Martin looks stunned for only a moment, and then he attempts the ultimate insult.
Tim Martin: Whore, you have insulted the white Lord himself! Prepare for an eternity in hell, being forced to listen to techno acid music, you vile bitch!
Butterfly Hamada: ??? ????!
Hamada grabs the book Tim has in his hands and throws it up against the wall as security and wrestlers descend down on the young woman and separate her from Tim Martin.
Tim Martin: Oh great White Lord, save this lost sheep of yours, cast her into the fiery pits with the rest of the dredges and useless races of humanity! Save her soul, great father!
Liam Martin: I don't think your gospel is working on her, brother.
Sage: Gospel? You think she wants to listen to any of what you have to say? Sorry boys, she's looking for a fight.
Tim Martin: She wants to fight? Dumb slut! Did she not feel enough pain last week? Or does she continue to want to tempt the White Lord?!
Sage: She's a Japanese wrestler. She just slapped your face. And if I am not mistaken, she challenged you for a match next week, Tim.
Tim Martin: How would you know? You can't even bother to show up for matches. Were you too busy spreading your vagina for the dirtiest of black cocks, woman?
Sage: "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned".
Sage walks off.
Liam Martin: You're telling me that after all that, she wants to fight you? You told her, in common English, you're an inferior race. You are an inferior person. The white Lord hates you. What more does she want, Tim?
Tim Martin: Some people, brother... take a little more convincing then others... hmmmm?
The scene ends.
George Cassidy: The Martins were only trying to help the dumb bitch!
Truth Waters: Hey! The Martins are a couple of creeps! And now they pissed her off so badly, Butterfly Hamada has challenged Tim Martin to a match next week! First Liam, now Tim, do you think The Furious Fists are going to run the table on Megumi Hamada?
George Cassidy: This woman has had a couple of cheap fluke wins and a ton of horrible losses, and if she keeps this attitude up, she's going to get hurt REALLY bad. Liam Martin beat her last week and then humiliated her after the match.
Truth Waters: She got hit with brass knuckles! And then The Furious Fists Of God jumped her after the match for no reason at all!
George Cassidy: Details, details! The Fists are going to kill her before this is all said and done!
Full Of Crap I
FEATURING: RED ROCK, PATRICK MAPLELEAF
AUTHORS: PATRICK AND JOSH YOUNG
Open – Red Rock sat by himself looking depressed - enter Patrick Mapleleaf.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Excuse me? Any reason why you're taking up space with a inverted smile on your face?
Red Rock: Huh? Oh hello Pat...sorry I feel a tad down in the dumps.
Patrick Mapleleaf: With that haircut, it figures. What's on your mind, champ?
RR sighs.
Red Rock: Oh you'll probably just laugh at me don't worry about it.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Yeah, I probably will. See ya.
Mapleleaf goes to leave. RR jumps up.
Red Rock: No wait! I'll tell you!
Patrick Mapleleaf: To be honest, I've lost interest.
Red Rock: Damn it! You're the first person to talk to me backstage in weeks, I could use a friend right!
Patrick Mapleleaf: Twenty dollars.
Red Rock: Twen - twenty dollars?! How about I wash your car instead?
Patrick Mapleleaf: Fine... but it better be good. I'm a valuable man whose time is precious... something you'd know nothing about.
Red Rock: O... K... well the reason I've been down recently is because my friend Boolie ditched me to live in New York, and i have no money. It sucks I never get any of the cool endorsements... Pat... I'm working for a gay porn chat line to make ends meet every night I have guys telling me that they want to hammer my buttery corn hole. I just need some advice on how I can improve my way of life. You seem to have it pretty good, what did you do?
Patrick Mapleleaf: I'm Patrick Mapleleaf... enough said and done right there. The gay chat lines seem to be more of a fun hobby for you than an occupation. Since I'm not too fond of... homosexuals... I'd normally turn around and leave right now. But you seem really desperate, so let me just give you a piece of advice. It's all about the attitude. Look at you, Rock. You're complete a -2 on the confidence scale. Loosen up, man. You need to build that shit up.
Red Rock: Could you show me how?
Patrick Mapleleaf: Now, let's take that Captain Salmon guy you're currently having a row with. That name sounds oddly familiar. Wait, he was my tag team partner last week... well, more like overglorified fan watching me take on Pleasure & Pain, but another story entirely. You need to really stick it to him. I say, in order to gain confidence...(stifled laugh)...you need to take a shit in his bag.
Red Rock: Did you just say... shit in his bag? As in pull down my trousers and physically poo in his bag?
Patrick Mapleleaf: Absolutely. Show him what you're made of!
Red Rock: Errr... OK if you're sure.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Trust me. Now go get em'.
Crazy Psycho Pig
FEATURING: ELLIS NASH, CHAINZ
AUTHORS: LIA AND MIKE S.
Ellis Nash: You are a fucking pig!
And so our scene begins, with the door of Chainz’s locker room colliding with tile wall, a resounding echo of the sudden noise infiltrating the previously quiet air. Chainz doesn’t bother turning around; he remains on the bench, looking at his photos, back hunched.
Irritated, Ellis stomps over to Chainz and snatches them away, holding the faded photographs in front of his face, nearly screaming.
Ellis Nash: You still want me to think you didn’t kill her, you bastard?! Look at this! This is grade-A proof you had something to do with it!
Chainz regards the livid brunette with an amused expression, a calculating twinkle present in his eyes.
Chainz: Now, now. There’s no need to yell.
Ellis keeps yelling.
Ellis Nash: I knew it! You’re behind this!
Chainz shrugs.
Chainz: Careful now, them words are hurtful.
Further vexed and doubtlessly annoyed, Ellis doesn’t hesitate to introduce her palm to the bone in Chainz’s nose, sending his head back with a rough pop. Growling, Chainz snaps his head back and furiously wipes at his nostrils, glaring at Ellis.
Chainz: Look, girl. I didn’t touch your sister. I loved her, even though she was a bitch. I would have never hurt her, much less left her out in the open to bleed to death like a stuck pig.
Ellis Nash: I don’t believe you.
Chainz: I’m not here to make you believe me.
Ellis Nash: Good. Because I don't. Asshole.
At this Chainz smirks, allowing a single eyebrow to press into his forehead.
Chainz: Hmm, I did always love me a Nash girl’s attitude. You remind me so much of her. The resemblance is rather uncanny.
When he doesn’t get a reply but a searing glower instead, Chainz continues, haughtily picking himself up from the bench. He circles around the much shorter Ellis who stands there silently, arms crossed over her chest, glower still intact.
Chainz: We were going to have a son together, you know. Nicholas.
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, folding his hands behind his back.
Chainz: We were going to have a nice life together, but like the bitch she was, she strayed from me. Seems she found herself another man to call daddy. Then she had to go and bleed to death. Pity. She did always seem to find a way to ruin the mood.
Ellis spins around, intent on chastising him. Her effort is cut short; Chainz silences her with a finger to the lips, an almost dangerous grin curling his own.
Chainz: I’m not done.
His luring leer is enough to silence Ellis. She resumes her glower.
Chainz: I have a compromise for you, sweetheart.
Ellis remains where she is as Chainz proceeds to circle her once again.
Chainz: You see, I’ve always wanted a child. Your sister, well she was going to give me one. Then she got herself killed and in the process took my child with her. So, I figured, who better to now mother me a child than my first love’s little sister?
Ellis spins around, yelling again.
Ellis Nash: Are you fucking high?!
But Chainz is calm.
Chainz: Well, no. Why do you ask?
Ellis Nash: I’m not going to sleep with your fat ass! You’re insane!
Chainz: True, true.
Ellis Nash: Fucking.. ugh! Don't you already have a slut?!
Chainz: I don’t want to burden that angel with nine months of labor. I figure a cow like you perfect for breeding stock. Besides, I don’t want my sexy girl getting all fat and stretched out. I figured you wouldn't mind.
Ellis Nash: ... UGH!
The brunette then kindly shoves the tip of her foot into Chainz’s balls. Chainz’s face instantly curves into a declaration of manly testicle pain. Ellis turns and grabs the photographs of her sister before clattering out of the locker room, whirling around once last time to hawk at the fallen Chainz. Chainz, albeit in manly testicle pain, manages the smallest of predatory smirks. Ellis ugh’s in repulsion and tramps away. This doesn’t stop Chainz from calling out:
Chainz: Get back to me!
Play That Chinky Music White Boy II
FEATURING: BUTTERFLY HAMADA, THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, SAGE, THE GREEN GRAPPLER
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND TASO
The scene starts off outside of a shower, the water running. The camera looks in to see Butterfly Hamada, naked! She is blurred out though, but, still you can see she is showering.
After a few moments of showering, a loud CRACK is heard. Butterfly looks up confused and when the camera turns, who else but the Furious Fists of God peer into the shower.
Butterfly Hamada: AHHH! YOU! YOU! GET OUT NOW! NOWWWW!
Tim Martin: Did we interrupt your self-pleasuring, skank?
Liam Martin: FINGERS STAY OUT OF THE VAGINA!
Butterfly Hamada: GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! THIS IS THE WOMAN'S LOCKERROOM!
Liam Martin: The White Lord is needed here in the woman's shower more then anywhere!
Tim Martin: That's not the question! God wants us, no, he NEEDS US to be in here. So, instead of bothering to check, we just came right in.
The Fists proceed to step into the shower. Tim is holding a big, thick book in his hand.
Butterfly Hamada: Get the HELL out of here!
Hamada pushes both men out of the shower. She grabs her towel and puts it on quickly.
Tim Martin: Harlot, PLEASE! Don't question us! We have found a new way to appreciate you!.
Butterfly Hamada:Appreciate me? You're going to appreciate exactly who I am next week when we step into the ring together, you pig!
Tim Martin: No. That's not it at all. Forget the match. You can make this all up to us by simply becoming a baby-spitting, White-Lord loving woman.
Butterfly Hamada: If you do not get out of here in five seconds I am going to scream my head off.
Tim Martin: SO, we decided to get you this.
Tim hands a book to Butterfly. She looks at it, confused.
Butterfly Hamada: "The Book For Dumb Buddhists and Other Useless Religions"?
Liam Martin: Yes, you're welcome.
Butterfly Hamada: What the fuck is this?!
Tim Martin: Never mind that! Just think of it as a gift, that we "respect" your culture, blah blah blah, just don't look in it, good bye! And we will forget that little challenge match next week too, OK? GREAT. God loves you, skank whore.
As Tim and Liam turn to walk out, Butterfly takes the book and slams it over Liam's head.
Tim Martin: You prostitute! YOU ACCEPTED IT! IT'S YOURS NOW! READ IT! FOLLOW IT! PRAISE THE LORD!
Liam Martin:GOD HAS WON THE DAY, TIM! Owww, my head!
Suddenly, Butterfly punches Tim's forehead, knocking him hard onto the tiles. Liam looks down at his brother, and then back at Hamada. Furiously he starts charging. But Hamada is kicks a bar of soap at Liam's feet, knocking him right onto Tim.
Butterfly Hamada: That was for the beating you gave me last week after our match! And THIS is for seeing me naked!
Hamada walks over and picks Liam up. She then runs him into the tile while, knocking him back on the ground. Tim gets up groggily, but is kicked out of the shower with a super kick.
Suddenly, a bunch of female wrestlers notice The Furious Fists are in the ladies lockerroom.
Sage: Hey! People are naked in here! Get the hell out!
All the women in the dressing room attack The Furious Fists Of God and throw them out of the room.
Women of AWC: And stay out!
The girls start throwing towels, baby powder, wet socks, shower shoes, and other stuff at The Fists as they scramble to their feet outside the women's lockerroom. A strap-on dildo slaps Liam upside the head and he looks at it and then almost vomits.
Butterfly Hamada: And IF you try and hand me any of your racist propaganda again, I will make you pay with your very lives. Next week! The challenge is still on!
Tim gets up slowly, pulling Liam to a bench. Tim shakes his head.
Tim Martin: WHORE! Oh well, she'll pay.
Liam Martin:She hasn't really so far.
Tim Martin: Never mind that.
A voice suddenly startles the two men.
Voice: LIAM AND TIM MARTIN.
Liam and Tim look up. They act all confused, looking around.
Tim Martin:Who said that?
Voice: LIAM AND TIM MARTIN.
The voice sounds like it's coming from somewhere nearby. Liam looks at his feet and sees the strap-on dildo.
Strap On: THIS IS GOD.
Liam Martin: WHAT?!
Tim Martin: What the heck?
Strap On: I AM DISSAPOINTED IN YOU BOYS! YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT FAIL ME SINCE THE CHRISTMAS PARTY!
Liam Martin: Oh Lord, we're sorry, forgive us!
Tim Martin: Liam, that ISN'T GOD! Just like how at the party it WASN'T HIM. DO. NOT. BELIEVE. THIS!
Strap On: I CANNOT TALK NOW! NOT HER! TAKE ME WITH YOU, BACK TO YOUR LOCKER ROOM! I WILL TALK THERE!
Liam Martin: Come now, Tim! (grabs the strap on) We must go!
Tim Martin: Oh, you have got to be kidding me!
As the Fists make a bee-line to their dressing room, The Green Grappler suddenly appears from around the corner. He smiles, but quickly ducks back when Tim Martin turns around to make sure no one saw what just happened.
Damien Wilson vs Red Rock
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: PATRICK
Truth Waters: Well, Cassidy, I have a feeling that after that last match, we won’t be starved for action tonight.
George Cassidy: You’ll still be starved for action, Waters. When was the last time you got to deliver the bread to the basket?
Truth Waters: Cassidy, you are one sick bastard.
George Cassidy: That’s sicker is that Red Rock is in a lot of trouble tonight against Damien Wilson, since his longtime friend and manager, Boolie, left his side.
Truth Waters: You’re right about that. Red Rock just doesn’t seem like himself, especially after he… did his business… in the good Captain’s bag! Damien Wilson, meanwhile, fresh off his debut win last week, is gonna be looking to make it two in a row.
The opening feedback of "Blame Thrower" by Reuben hits as the lights lower to darkness. The riff begins and the lights flicker red, and Red Rock's logo hits the big screen. The heavy riff kicks in...
We all have responsibilities,
we all have a social debt
and if there is a man free of guilt,
I haven't met him yet
... and Red Rock bursts out from behind the curtain with huge amounts of energy.
So now you’re backed in a corner,
you’re under verbal attack
they’re pointing fingers like guns in your face and
nobody’s got your back
Red Rock walks down to the ring with a cheeky smile on his face giving members of the crowd a nod and a thumbs-up but making an effort not to touch anyone. Red Rock reaches the ring and pulls himself up on to the apron and hops over the top rope and poses to the crowd, pouting with his hand on his hip.
James Brunt:: The following is a singles match. Introducing first… from Aldershot, England… weighing in at 197 pounds…Red Rock!!
Truth Waters: Well, he certainly seems like himself even without Boolie. Who knows?! He might even surprise us all!
George Cassidy: Bankruptcy is a bitch. I almost had to declare it after my ex wife took everything.
The music cuts off. 'A Minor Detail' by Hidden In Plain View begins to play. The fans are half booing, half cheering as Damien Wilson comes down the ramp. He walks past the fans. A few fans seem to want him to slap their hands, but Wilson seems to want absolutely no part of it. He has a hard look on his face, ready to take care of business. Sweat glistens off his face, and intensity seems to run in his blood.
James Brunt: And his opponent, Damien Wilson!
George Cassidy: Damien Wilson here looks as sharp as a fire poker.
Truth Waters: He sure does. Red Rock has his work cut out for him tonight. He sure could have used Boolie on a night like this.
Wilson walks into the ring. The strange combo of boos and cheers dies out, as does the music. Wilson gets into the corner of the ring.
Red Rock and Wilson stand eye to eye, sizing up each other. Red Rock starts with a hard chop to the chest of Wilson. Damien Wilson grabs Red Rock into a grapple hold. He then throws him against the ropes. As Rock comes back, Wilson goes for a takedown. Red Rock crashes to the mat. Wilson bounces off the ropes and executes a leg drop. Rock gets up. Red Rock meets Wilson and executes a spinning heel kick. Wilson goes down. Red Rock helps Wilson up and goes to lock in for a suplex, but Wilson blocks him and takes him down with a clothesline. Wilson stomps away on Red Rock. Red Rock gets up, grabs Wilson, and throws him against the ropes. Wilson comes back, trying to surprise Red Rock with another clothesline, but Red Rock ducks and meets him with a spine buster. Wilson goes down in pain.
Truth Waters: Red Rock is ready for his opponent tonight! He is trying to prove to Boolie that he does not need him!
George Cassidy: By taking a dump in the Captain’s bag?
Truth Waters: Well… that IS a bit strange.
George Cassidy: I’ve done it myself. One year I couldn’t think of what to get my ex wife for Christmas, so —
Truth Waters: Just stop right there.
Red Rock climbs on top of Damien Wilson and delivers a series of punches. Red Rock and Wilson get up. Wilson is quicker, going for the takedown by grabbing Red Rock’s legs. Red Rock goes down in a heartbeat. Damien Wilson now sets Red Rock up for a suplex. He grabs hold and executes a perfect belly to belly suplex. He grabs him again and delivers another. Damien Wilson goes to work on Red Rock’s ankle, twisting it. The referee comes in and breaks up the attempt. Red Rock hobbles up. Damien Wilson tries for a running bulldog, but Red Rock dodges the attempt. Red Rock takes advantage by executing a dragon screw. Damien Wilson falls to the mat. Red Rock then drops an elbow onto Wilson, right into the midsection. Wilson and Red Rock get to their feet.
Truth Waters: These two are on to each other tonight, Cass. We can expect this to be a long match.
George Cassidy: I was hoping to be home in time for late night Showtime. I hear there’s a soft-core porn special on, and —
Truth Waters: Can someone get this man a muzzle?
George Cassidy: I save my muzzles for when women wanna talk afterwards. WOO!
Red Rock sends Wilson right back down with a drop kick. Nimble Wilson gets back to his feet. Red Rock is waiting, executing a forearm smash. Wilson grabs Red Rock by the arms and whips him into the ropes. He grabs him and executes a double-armed DDT. Red Rock is down. Wilson climbs to the second rope and drops down onto Red Rock. Red Rock struggles to get up. Wilson grabs Red Rock as he gets up and goes a 360 degree pile driver. He lays down and goes for a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: Wilson trying to get an early pin. Red Rock is determined not to go down easily.
George Cassidy: He should. This is obviously a one-way match.
Red Rock gets his shoulder up. Referee Aaron Davies calls Wilson off. Wilson gets up. Red Rock, struggling to find strength, locks his arms around Wilson. As he tries to execute a move, Wilson reverses, grabs Red Rock’s legs, and takes him down. Wilson tries to work that ankle again, but this time, Red Rock kicks, hitting Wilson right in the face. Wilson is dazed. Red Rock gets up. He takes advantage with another facebuster. Wilson cries out in pain. Red Rock goes to work, diving down to Wilson’s legs, taking him down. Red Rock climbs up the ropes. The fans cheer and rally as Red Rock executes a perfect flying elbow from the second rope. Red Rock goes for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Truth Waters: One way match, huh? Red Rock damn near had the win there!
George Cassidy: Damn near isn’t what it used to be, Waters.
Wilson kicks out. Red Rock attempts to keep the rhythm going. Wilson gets up. Red Rock faces him, goes for a heart kick, but Wilson dodges. Wilson goes around to the back of Red Rock and applies a perfect swinging neck breaker. Red Rock falls to the ring like a sack of dirt. Wilson bounces off the ropes, then lands headfirst on top of Red Rock’s chest. Red Rock is now breathing heavily, clearly running out of gas. Wilson approaches Red Rock, who is fading in and out. He tries to execute a right hand across his chest, but Red Rock, clearly faking, comes back and rakes Wilson in the eyes. The fans cheer as Red Rock has successfully “played possum.” He cradles Wilson up into a small package.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Truth Waters: Another near win for Red Rock! Did you see that?! Did you see him outsmart Wilson?!
George Cassidy: Cheap, if you ask me.
Truth Waters: Well, I would have thought you’d appreciate it.
George Cassidy: I only cheat on my taxes and, when I have one, my wife.
Wilson kicks out at the last second. The fans are becoming restless. Red Rock continues to work on Wilson, stomping away at his chest. He bounces off the ropes, trying to execute a leg drop, but Wilson moves out of the way, and no one is home. Wilson gets a second wind, popping to his feet. Red Rock gets up, but Wilson meets him with a boot to the face. Wilson locks his arms around Red Rock. He applies pressure and attempts to execute a bear hug. The referee calls Wilson off. Wilson grabs Red Rock and throws him into the turnbuckle, then runs at him and contacts with full force.
Truth Waters: Red Rock is in trouble! Wilson is getting in the rhythm, and when that happens, the result is deadly as we saw last week!
George Cassidy: All right! Looks like I’m about to win a few G’s!
Truth Waters: You’re… betting?
George Cassidy: Don’t you?
Red Rock is dazed. He hobbles around the ring. Wilson takes the opportunity to lock in a suplex. He executes one belly to back suplex. Two belly to back suplexes. Then he goes for the tri-fector, executing a third. With Red Rock down, Wilson locks him into position for The Raw Talent. He gets him into the submission perfectly.
Truth Waters: Raw Talent! It’s all over!
George Cassidy: I wonder what I’ll do with my 3 grand.
Truth Waters: How about you buy a personality?
George Cassidy: I did. I was saving it to give to you for your birthday.
Red Rock cries out in pain. The referee is close by, watching for a tap. Red Rock’s face turns red, strained with pressure from his legs. Red Rock slowly crawls his way to the ropes. Damien tries to lock in harder. Red Rock puffs and heaves. He reaches for the rope, just barely missing it. He reaches again, tapping it lightly. The referee calls off the hold.
Truth Waters: Unbelievable! Red Rock is still alive! He got out of The Raw Talent!
George Cassidy: He did not! That was not a legitimate grab! See? Wilson is arguing now!
Truth Waters: Oh, that’s ridiculous! Of course it was!
Wilson breaks the hold, then argues with the referee about how it wasn’t a legitimate grab. The referee wants no part of the argument. Meanwhile, Red Rock crawls up from behind while Wilson is distracted and executes a low blow. Wilson cries out in pain. Red Rock begins to kick Wilson in a series of attacks.
Truth Waters: The Funstigator! Could this be?!
After the kicks are concluded, Red Rock throws Wilson into the ropes. He then showboats and executes a sleeper hold, followed by the RDT!
Truth Waters: RDT!
Red Rock goes for a cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Truth Waters: It’s all over! Red Rock wins!
George Cassidy: I swear I saw a kickout!
Truth Waters: Maybe you need glasses.
James Brunt:: The winner… Red Rock!
Red Rock excitedly walks around the ring, limping every other step from the ankle, as the fans cheer. Damien Wilson lies on the ground, puffing and heaving.
Play That Chinky Music White Boy III
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND TASO
The scene opens up with a battered and tattered Liam and Tim Martin in their own locker room, sitting on a bench. Across from them is God… aka the talking strap on. Tim has his head in his hands while Liam stares, confused.
Tim Martin: I cannot BELIEVE that you think it talks. First you hear God at the Christmas party… now you hear him in a talking fucking strap-on? Are you infected? What minority did you mistakenly have sex with?
Liam Martin: Tim, SHUT UP! He may speak!
Tim Martin: He?!
Liam Martin: Yes, GOD! THE WHITE LORD!
Tim Martin: …
Liam Martin: What?
Tim Martin: ARE YOU GOD DAMN RETARDED! The White Lord is NOT in that strap-on dildo! If anything, he'd come back in a Bible or a picture of Jesus or something like that.
While the two men sit there for a few seconds in silent, suddenly, there is a humming sound…
Strap On: HELLO MY CHILDREN!
Liam Martin:The White Lord? Is that you?! FORGIVE ME FOR MY SINS!
Tim Martin:No way…
Strap On: TIM AND LIAM MARTIN… THIS IS GOD!
Liam Martin: OH, LORD, FORGIVE US! FORGIVE MY BROTHER FOR EVER DOUBTING IT WAS YOU!
Tim Martin:: IT'S NOT GOD! It can't be!
Strap On: SILENCE! I HAVE A QUEST FOR YOU TWO!
Liam Martin: A quest?
Strap On: YES, A QUEST!
The door to the Martin's dressing room creaks slowly open just an inch or so. Neither brother notices. The camera pans outside to show… The Green Grappler! He is peeking into the room, throwing his voice into the strap on like a ventriloquist! Back inside the room, Liam is giddy while Tim is shaking his head.
Tim Martin: Look, maybe this is a joke. Maybe there is a little miniature speaker in there or something.
Strap On: YOU DOUBT THE POWER OF THE ONE AND ONLY GOD? THIS IS THE WHITE LORD, AND I HAVE COME TO EARTH IN THE FORM OF A STRAP-ON IN ORDER TO FURTHER THE GOOD OF THE WHITE RACE!
Tim Martin:BLASPHEMY! God wouldn't choose a strap-on dildo to talk to his people. He would be something like a burning bush!
Strap On: THOSE WERE THE JEWS! ARE YOU A DAMNABLE JEW?!
Tim Martin: NO! Why would you say that to me?! Lord, I would never...WHY AM I ARGUING WITH A DAMN DILDO?!
Strap On: UNLESS YOU WANT ME TO SEND YOU ON A FORTY YEAR TREK THROUGH NEWARK, NEW JERSEY, YOU NEED TO LISTEN TO THE WHITE LORD, TIM MARTIN!
Liam Martin: Quiet, Tim, let Him speak!
Tim Martin: Oh, for Christ's sake…
Strap On: NO, FOR MY SAKE! SILENCE! LIAM, TIM, THIS QUEST IS OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE! YOU SEE, THE ONE WHO USES ME THE MOST MUST BE RE-UNITED WITH ME!
Liam Martin: Uses you… the most?
Strap On: I'M A FUCKING STRAP ON YOU MORO-… I MEAN, ERM, I'M A DEVICE THAT WOMEN USE…
Liam Martin: Fags, too. Can't forget them.
Strap On: UH, YES, FAGS AS WELL. REGARDLESS, YOU NEED TO RE-UNITE ME WITH THE WOMAN WHO USES ME THE MOST! ONLY THEN WILL YOU TRULY UNDERSTAND THE POWER AND THE MEANING THAT IS THE WHITE LORD, AND WHITE POWER!
Liam Martin: It will be done!
Strap On: GOOD! NOW, err - BACK TO HEAVEN… Wooooooosh…
The strap on goes silent as Liam instantly jumps to his feet and throws the strap on in a bag.
Tim Martin:You can't honestly believe that was the White Lord…
Liam Martin: He works in strange and mysterious ways, Tim!
Tim Martin: "Strange" and "Mysterious" aren't synonyms for "fucking ridiculous", Liam…
Liam Martin: Are you coming or what?
Tim Martin: Only to see who you might think this belongs to…
The Fists step outside the room. Standing there is The Green Grappler, leaning up against a wall, whistling and checking his most recent manicure. Liam walks away, but Tim stops and turns.
Tim Martin: Uh, you didn't hear any of that, did you?
Green Grappler: Hear? Hear what? Hello by the way, I'm new here. My name is The Gree-
Tim Martin:Yeah, yeah, nobody cares. If you tell ANYONE you heard ANYTHING… God have Mercy on your pathetic soul.
The scene ends with Tim walking off camera and the camera zooming in on a chuckling Green Grappler.
What The People Want
FEATURING: NORTON & BRIDGES, ELLIS NASH
AUTHORS: RYAN KEANEY AND LIA
The “AWC in 2006” logo flashes across the screen.
It’s so pretty.
And as it fades away it’s replaced with the Wild, Wild West set of the Norton & Bridges locker room. Sitting on their stools in front of the large image of Will Smith, Chuck Norton and Russ Bridges look devoid of life.
Chuck Norton: I can’t believe you agreed we’d be quiet…
Russ Bridges: Me? You were the one that soiled himself when Wayne appeared…
Chuck Norton: He’s a big guy…
Russ Bridges: Mother-bastard-ing pussy…
Deciding not to return any comment, Chuck simply shoot Russell a look that could kill a wild beast, as the two men return to sitting in silence. Very bored, eerie, awkward, annoying silence.
Russ Bridges: I want to play…
Chuck Norton: Me too!
“Me three!”
Looking up from staying at the floor, Norton & Bridges are greeted with the smiling face of Ellis Nash. Stepping into the room, Ellis perches herself on a stool next to AWC’s King of Breakfast Stuffs.
Chuck Norton: What?
Ellis Nash: I heard about you guys playing last week and I want to hear your stuff… Have you written me a song?
Looking at each other, Chuck and Russ’ eyes are coated with the same glaze they possessed when The Furious Fists of God visited them in the parking lot last week.
Russ Bridges: Sorry, who are you?
Ellis Nash: I’m Ellis Nash…
Chuck Norton: Isn’t Ellis Nash a guy?
Ellis Nash: Obviously not…
Russ Bridges: Well at least it’s a guy’s name.
Ellis flashes Hash Brown a look of pure evil that quickly causes the duo to realise that Ellis isn’t a man, or anywhere near.
Chuck Norton: Okay… We get the idea…
Ellis Nash: So have you got a song for me?
Chuck Norton: Well to be honest, we haven’t written a song specifically for you but we will by the next time we see you… But for now, we will sing you a song you’ll love…
Strumming at his guitar, Chuck and then followed by Russ begin the melody of Kenny Chesney’s great song “Keg in the Closet.”
“We had a dog named Bocephus living in the front yard
He liked sleeping out on top of the car”
Ellis Nash: Eww… Country!
Russ Bridges: Just go with it…
”He drank beer out of a mason jar
And he climbed up on everyone in bed”
Ellis still casts Norton & Bridges an unimpressed look of disgust; so far not so good.
”White frame house in a college town
A bunch of people always hanging around
No real problems we needed to drown
But we'd try our best anyway
We went to class just to pass the time
Back in '89”
As Norton and Bridges build towards the chorus, the camera zooms on Ellis’ foot tapping along and then pans up to she her swaying with the music.
”We had a keg in the closet
Pizza on the floor
Left over from the night before
Where we were going we didn't really care
We had all we ever wanted
And that Keg in the closet”
As Chuck twangs (Oh god I do love the thesaurus on Word) to his mandatory HUGE finish, Ellis is suddenly back with her senses and realises the extent with which she was enjoying that last number. Mumbling to herself, she seems embarrassed as she slips from the room.
Chuck Norton: What’s wrong with him… her?
Russ Bridges: She was dancing to Kenny Chesney… That’s bad!
Chuck Norton: We were playing it…
Russ Bridges: Shit.
Ewww...
FEATURING: CAPTAIN SULEIMON, MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: TOM HOLZERMAN
Fade into Suleimon’s locker room, with his kit bag still wide open. Captain Suleimon walks in and immediately starts sniffing the air.
Captain Suleimon: What, what in the devil is that?
He sniffs around the room some more, coming towards the bench where his kit bag is. He looks at it oddly, and then furrows his brow at it being open.
Captain Suleimon: Funny, I didn’t leave this open...
He bends over to look into the bag and, after taking a giant, unintentional whiff, falls back, gagging and holding his throat. He breaks his fall with his right hand and unsteadily gets back to his feet, still gagging and aghast at what he saw in his kit bag.
Captain Suleimon: Someone... def...
Suleimon heaves again, this time throwing up all over his locker room. Uncontrollable vomiting, like out of Family Guy or Team America. As he starts dry-heaving when there’s nothing left to throw up, he runs out of his locker room where he runs into Maddy Estelle, who’s conveniently walking by.
Maddy Estelle: Oh my... did you get sick eating the fish too?
Maddy giggles as she walks on past the decrepit and hyperventilating Suleimon. Suleimon looks on incredulously at the bra-stuffing AWC interviewer. He shakes his head and starts muttering to himself.
Captain Suleimon: This is it. Red Rock will pay dearly...
Locker Room Meeting Of The Minds
FEATURING: VINCE JONES, JASMINE, RENO BANKS, SHAWN HARRIS
AUTHORS: JAY AND JEFF
The camera slowly fades into the locker room where Vince Jones can be seen sitting in a metal folding chair with his black Louisville Slugger bat laid across his lap. He is currently facing a large mirror. Vince Jones can be seen gently shining it up with a small white towel in his hand. His lovely valet, Jasmine, stands behind him gently massaging his massive shoulders in order to keep him relaxed for the main event after his encounter with Shawn Harris earlier on in the night. Vince's agent, Reno Banks, is also spotted in the room sitting in a metal folding chair just a few feet away. It appears at the moment as if we've walked in on Vince, Reno, and Jasmine talking over a little bit of business or strategy.
Reno Banks: Now Mr. Jones, I hope you're prepared to go on the air tonight with your address to AWC. It'll definitely be a good ratings booster and great for the interests of 'The Violence' Vince Jones if you know what I mean.
Vince Jones: Look. V always ready when its go time, Reno. You should know that by now. Ain't nothin' but a thang.
Reno Banks: (nodding) Alright. Well, I hope that's the case. And what about your match for tonight?
Vince Jones: What match?
Reno Banks: You know what I'm talking about, Mr. Jones. You're teaming up with Shawn Harris...
Vince immediately looks up from his baseball bat and dead on at Reno.
Vince Jones: (in fury) We ain't talkin' 'bout him, Reno! End of story on that!
Reno Banks: (nodding) Alright. I'm sorry about, Mr. Jones. You will be facing two women by the name of Ellis Nash and Aimz.
Vince Jones: (chuckles to himself) If you can call that shit a match.
Jasmine leans in close and kisses Vince on the cheek.
Jasmine: (in a flirtatious tone) C'mon V. Don't be overconfident just because they're women. You never know what those bitches might have up their sleeves. This is coming from a woman. You gotta listen to me. I know what I'm talking about. (begins kissing him down his neck) Believe me, we have our ways of breaking a man down.
Vince Jones is about to succumb to Jasmine's constant kissing and flirtation, but finally regains his senses and pushes her back slightly.
Vince Jones: Yeah? Well, this man ain't about to be broken down...
Reno Banks: (with growing enthusiasm) Well, you better make sure that's the case, Mr. Jones. I've got a lot of things lined up for you at the moment. If we're on the same page and you come through in the ring and all there's no telling how far you could go. I tell you what, Mr. Jones. You're about to go...SKYHIGH in AWC and that's a guarantee.
Reno Banks gives Vince the thumbs up and flashes his trademark sly grin. All of a sudden the sound of the locker room door being swung open is heard catching the attention of Vince, Reno, and Jasmine. In steps Shawn Harris 'The New F'n Evolution. Reno Banks immediately stands to his feet and tries to usher Shawn Harris back out the door.
Reno Banks: Mr. Harris, I presume? If you'll excuse us we were discussing a little bit of business in here at the moment. Could you please leave us?
Jasmine: Yeah! Get out! We don't want you here!
Shawn Harris: Shut the fuck up you bunch of tarts, I need to see Vincent, unless he’s too scared to have a war of words with me again.
Shawn Harris looks at Vince and awaits his answer. Vince keeps his back turned towards Shawn and continues shining up the baseball bat while grumbling to himself at Shawn's unexpected visit.
Vince Jones: Ya know somethin', mane? If we were back on V. Jones' block in NYC right now this Louisville slugga bat would've been upside yo skull in no time flat for bustin' up in here like you just did especially after all the shit you was talkin' earlier. That's just the code of V's block. You come creepin' on a thug like that and you lookin' to catch a nub; but, since we out in the sticks of Kentucky tonight guess V can let that shit slide this one time.
Shawn Harris: If it were anywhere else you’d have a sledgeham…
Shawn stops talking suddenly as an awkward silence fills the air.
Vince Jones: Well, you obviously got somethin', bitch! Go ahead and spit it!
Shawn Harris smiles as he crosses his fingers behind his back.
Shawn Harris: (in sarcasm) Thank you, Mr. Jones. I really appreciate your time.
Vince nods his head and a cocky smirk crosses his face.
Vince Jones: Mr. Jones, V like that. V like that.
Shawn Harris lowers his head a bit sheepishly.
Shawn Harris: Well, I'd just like to say that I'm sorry for all that I said earlier at the bar. (in sarcasm) I had a little bit of time to think and it just hit me. I've got the opportunity of a lifetime tonight, a chance to be in the corner of Vincent Jones...
Vince Jones: (nods) Damn straight!
Shawn Harris: (in sarcasm)...a man that has paved the way for little guys like me to even have a shot of trying to rise to the top and be like Vince Jones.
Vince Jones: (nods) Yeah. You can neva be quite as good as V. Jones, but you young cats can always try. Gotta have a goal in this game.
Shawn Harris: (extreme sarcasm) Exactly. Where would I be without a star like you, Vince?
Vince Jones: (shrugs) Who the hell knows?
Shawn Harris: (extreme sarcasm) That's why I'm here right now wanting to apologize for everything. I mean I could never imagine winning this match tonight without the full cooperation of (points at Vince) you, the one and only Vince Jones.
Vince nods his head. Reno and Jasmine look on at Shawn Harris in total disbelief with what he just said.
Vince Jones: Well, that's real kind of ya, but if you really wanna get V's forgiveness on this your best bet is goin' public with it.
Jasmine, Reno, and Shawn Harris all look at Vince Jones surprised.
Shawn Harris: Public? A public apology?
Vince Jones: (nods) Yeah. That's what V said, a public apology. And V. Jones got the perfect opportunity for you to make that move, during V. Jones' very own 'State of The Violence Address'
Shawn Harris: (in confusion) What? The fuck is that?
Reno Banks begins flailing his arms wildly and shaking his head frantically.
Reno Banks: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA! No, no, noo, noooo!
Reno slides over towards Vince and leans in close to whisper.
Reno Banks: I cannot allow you to do that, Mr. Jones. That segment is your time and your time only. We do not need the likes of that ingrate over there (points in Harris' direction) making any guest appearance. We don't know his intentions.
Vince Jones just shakes his head and points the bat dead on in the face of Reno making him take a step back.
Vince Jones: Let V ask you a quick question here, Reno. Is this the State of the Agent Address or somethin' now or the State of The Violence Address? V can do whateva in the hell he pleases and if he feels like havin' this cat come on his show on hands and knees beggin' for forgiveness in front of the world then so be it.
Shawn Harris overhears the argument between Vince and Reno and begins rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Vince slams the end of the baseball bat down on the floor startling Reno and Jasmine.
Vince Jones: Reno, book that shit! V. Jones and Jeff Harris or whateva the hell his name is tonight, togetha on V's State of The Violence Address. You best believe that!
Reno Banks nods his head a bit hesitantly and turns towards Shawn Harris who is standing in the doorway.
Reno Banks: Well, you heard Mr. Jones. I guess we'll be meeting up with you later.
Shawn Harris: (sarcastically) Great. I look forward to it.
The camera slowly fades out as Shawn Harris exits the locker room nearly laughing his ass off.
Misplaced Canadian
FEATURING: PATRICK MAPLELEAF, TERESA TOMAS
AUTHORS: SONYA AND PATRICK
Memorial Coliseum (capacity: 8500), Lexington, Kentucky, USA. Backstage, Patrick Mapleleaf is proudly wearing his designer jeans and a red and while Canadian hockey jacket. As usual, he is ranting about something.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Goddamn hicks...I can't wait to get back to my mansion so I can write about this in my Xanga...
Patrick is so irate about Kentucky, heck, about America in general, he doesn’t notice the door of the Lady’s room opening. Stepping out is AWC’s newest female, Teresa Tomas. She’s wiping her wet hands on her Levi’s. She’s also wearing a navy blue t-shirt reading “REALLY BUZZED” written in gold. She too isn’t paying attention, cursing under her breath about no paper towels in the rest room.
Teresa Tomas: The least they could’ve done was put paper towels in the bath room. Ah hell, at least they remembered the toilet paper.
No sooner had her worlds left her mouth, and Patrick’s words left his, they ram right into each other. Teresa looks up to find Patrick’s blue eyes glaring into her own baby blues.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Hey! Why don't you watch where you're going!
Teresa steps back raising an eyebrow. She looks him up and down then cracks a smile mockingly. This only makes Patrick angrier.
Teresa Tomas: Umm bud, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you could get killed wearing that jacket. I mean no disrespect, but folks down here ain’t too keen on homosexuals.
She gives him a wink and pats his arm before attempting to walk past him. Patrick grabs her arm stopping her. His grip is tight letting her know how serious he is.
Patrick Mapleleaf: I'm not in the mood for your fag jokes, cunt, so get the fuck out of my way!
One again Teresa gives him that same mocking smile. She has a free hand and gives Patrick’s ribs a good poke. This causes Mapleleaf to screech like a mouse and his grip on her arm is released. Teresa then shoves Patrick against the wall with her shoulder and grabs hold of his neck and squeezes.
Teresa Tomas: Now you listen to me you freaking queer. You lay a hand on me again and call me any sort of name whatsoever; I won’t be squeezing your neck. I’ll be squeezing your damn balls!
Patrick tried to swallow but Teresa’s grip on his neck was too much. Instead he just forced two words from his dirty mouth
Patrick Mapleleaf: Yes... ma'am!
Satisfied Teresa releases Patrick and gave him a light tap on his cheek.
Teresa Tomas: Good luck with Chainz tonight.
With that said the Redneck Princess departs the misplaced Canadian and disappears down the hall.
The Need For Patience
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, SASHA VOLKYEVA, JACK MURPHY, JESSICA O'GRADY
AUTHOR: FERGUS
Pearl: You want to do what?
Picture the scene. It's David “Pearl” Harber's office, cramped and claustrophobic in the dungeons of the Memorial Coliseum and it's a hot evening. Sweat almost literally drips from the camera lens and you can see the fans whirring in the background. Four people standing this hazy oasis and the temperature isn't the only thing rising in the room. Standing foremost in front of us are Pearl Harber and Sasha Volkyeva. Harber has his tie loose and a white shirt which is slowly showing the signs of slicking up and revealing his gangly frame. Volkyeva, despite the heat is still wearing her full business suit, buttoned up and ready for anything. Her prim attire and icy exterior are sharp contrasting images to Harber's flustered manner, his hand pushing through his fading hair to sweep the grease and sweat from it. He blows out some air and looks incredulously at Sasha.
Sasha Volkyeva: You heard what I said. I feel we have one of the brightest prospects in the sport today and you have neglected him. It is time to correct that error. Isn't that right Mr. Murphy?
It is now that we can discern the two characters in the background. One is Jack Murphy, standing proudly and silent, a grin as wide as any Cheshire cat ever had and malicious to the core. He is loving the sense of Harber squirming in his pants at what Sasha is doing.
Jack Murphy: (sneering) Of course.
Beside him is Jessica, his now official agent for promoting Jack in all manners of the press and generally the business end of things. He handles the more physical aspects while Jessica is...the more persuasive individual for the more subtle situations as this. Of course subtlety doesn't always work. Like in this case. Presently she pushes forward with a document and slaps it on the table, pen in hand, pushing it in Pearl's direction.
Jessica O'Grady: Here you are Mr. Harber, I think you'll find that the terms my client seeks are more than fair considering the evidence.
Pearl peers over the desk, still trying to watch everyone around him as he is clearly outnumbered. His eyes bulge out their sockets as the details astonish him.
Pearl: What? That's far too much! You may be trying to say my spending was frivolous Sasha...but this is ridiculous! You want me to sign this?
Sasha Volkyeva: I don't want you to Pearl, I'm waiting for you to.
Jack Murphy: Pearl...there's no point in wasting in time when it is inevitable that you're looking at one of your most important wrestlers on this roster today. You have proven talent here.
Pearl: But this size? I will not sign that! Not after the amount of hiring we have made the past few weeks. I would prefer to wait and see what happens with them.
Jack Murphy: Wait for a bunch of no talent hacks who couldn't tell you the difference between their foot and their mouth? Tell me Pearl... are you trying to run AWC into the ground? Are you trying to let it become like every other federation that exists today? Full of blood and gore but lacking the substance that wrestling used to have in abundance? I could give you endless amounts of matches that have little to no blood involved in them and certainly involved no foreign objects, and yet you would rely on men who are willing to go through tacks and light bulbs over a man who is easily the shining light on this programme, notwithstanding our current champion of course. Don't forget what else I have Pearl...
With a motion of his hand, Jessica comes from behind The Bull and produces a briefcase that contains the insignia of the AWC in bold lettering. Underneath it lies the title: 'Grand Slam Package'.
Jack Murphy: Care to explain Jessica?
Jessica O'Grady: (studiously) The winner of the Grand Slam Package at Triangles '05 is entitled to a shot at each and every belt that exists in the AWC. The contracts are binding and have the lasting period of one year, right till the very end of the night of the next Triangles event. Signed, Entertainment Manager of the AWC, David Harber.
Murphy has the grin of the cat again but it has become far more malevolent and sickening. He looks at Jessica who is looking back up at him fondly. She winks at him and he grins a little more before looking now in turn to Sasha. He tilts his head at her and she smirks, with a glint in her again hinting towards more than the audience could know at this point in time.
Jack Murphy: So you see Pearl... I've got more leeway than you think you could have dreamed of. These contracts are binding and are beholden to me and me alone. Now... if I were to be snubbed again at this junction, I may have to take the only course of action that I may see fit. I mean, it's no secret that Jessica knows people around the business already and can easily call in favours to head off to somewhere in the PTC organisation. Now... you wouldn't want someone running off with your titles now would you?
As Murphy halts in his speech, it is easy to see him mouth one word which Harber rears back at in revulsion at the thought. Let's just say it began with a 'P.'
Harber recovers himself though and stands straight, ploughing the depths of his courage and strength to reply with...
Pearl: I don't care... I'm still not signing that contract. Any company can overcome something like that, but I'm not about to become subordinate to any one person in this federation. You're going to have to come up with something better.
Now it's Murphy's time for his eyes to pop out of his sockets. His face turns a darker shade of red and you can see him getting thoroughly riled up. It's so clear that Jessica flusters into an argument.
Jessica O'Grady: Mr. Harber, do you have any idea of what you're proposing! Let me take you through some of the facts. Jack is our leading star in terms of mass media publicity and interviews, he is well known around the industry, far more than any other in the AWC at this point in time. His match with Pierce Lavelle for the Transatlantic championship was the biggest ratings spike that Fresh! had experienced since Jack has become a part of AWC! Not only this he has been the only recruit that you hired at the start of August to have any sort of success. In fact, the last person you were thinking of entrusting to a big time contract disappeared after getting it. Now, can you seriously pass up this opportunity given your track record? You NEED someone to head this company and I feel that we have been very reasonable in the contract. I see your concerns over the size of the contract but with Mr. Murphy signing this, you are getting a wrestler for the rest of his prime years in this business. You have the opportunity to get on the gravy train while it's still exiting the depot. Can you afford to let someone of this calibre slip away?
Harber is still adamant, standing legs akimbo and in full gunslinger mode. There's no change from his stance, literally or metaphorically.
Pearl: I need something more to convince me. You're not giving me enough.
Sasha is aghast at this, almost non-existent for the past few minutes but now thrust back into the spotlight as it seems Jessica is deflated by her statement falling flat on its face at the feet of the Co-General Manager. Sasha, sensing they're losing the battle steps in.
Sasha Volkyeva: (coyly) Pearl... I'm sure there are many things that we could add to this contract to make it more achievable in your eyes, so what is it you propose?
Pearl: About half the size of the sum?
Sasha Volkyeva: (chuckling) Ah you pick something I said we would not negotiate. I'm talking about something that would be advantageous for you. Perhaps something that Mr. Murphy could do for you in return for agreeing to this lump sum?
Jack Murphy: Sasha...
Sasha Volkyeva: Please be quiet Jack, I am conducting business.
Murphy grits his teeth together at the snubbing but pulls back, Jessica flushing red with anger at the very same comment.
Jessica O'Grady: HOW DARE...
Quickly Jack halts Jessica with a hand that muffles her outburst. Jack looks sheepishly as Sasha brings a cold stare at Jessica. She then returns to Harber.
Sasha Volkyeva: Well?
Pearl: Alright... how about this... I'll agree to the contract... IF... and only if Jack her agrees to fulfil a personal obligation to me, whenever I see fit, no matter what it is. How does that sound?
Jack Murphy: No way...
Sasha Volkyeva: Wait Jack, don't be so quick to let this slip by.
Jessica O'Grady: (breaking free) Yeah, hang on a minute. This obligation Mr. Harber, it would be a simple task that you would set? Something that wouldn't take long to do?
Pearl: Of course.
Jessica O'Grady: And it would only be once?
Pearl: Yes.
Jessica O'Grady: Take it Jack.
At the statement, Pearl offers his handshake, his grin this time rivalling Murphy's previous one. He even winks at The Bull, trying his best to drive it deep into Jack. Both Sasha and Jessica wait expectantly.
Jack Murphy: (flatly) No, no deal.
Sasha Volkyeva: Jack... I don't think you are considering this properly. There are many advantages to this contract and this would be one simple menial task.
Jessica O'Grady: Think of all the opportunities you'll have Jack... the opportunity to do whatever you want with your life once you retire, the opportunity to travel the world you haven't seen... to settle down... with a family.
Jessica looks at him plainly but he can't quite match her gaze. Instead you can see him looking towards Sasha instead, her own eyes blank and trying not to allow any emotion of hers to be obvious. Jack pulls at his beard, tugging it to try and decide this one. Jessica makes one more attempt.
Jessica O'Grady: Think of the security you can give whomever is your family at the time...
This strikes a chord with Murphy and his eyes become misty, fading off into some dreamland, God knows where. It is then that Murphy suddenly sparks back into reality and stares at the still outstretched palm of Harber. Slowly, very slowly he puts his into Pearl's. Jessica and Sasha breathe a sigh of relief.
Sasha Volkyeva: Well, I am glad this is considered settled. We will write up the contract and its new clause promptly Jack and we will have everything ready for you as soon as possible. In the meantime, I think this calls for a celebration does it not?
Jessica O'Grady: Indeed! Come on Jack I know a great place we can go to celebrate the evening!
Jack Murphy: Jessica... I think I'm going to stay on in the building tonight. Why don't you take the night off though? You deserve it after all you've done for me here the past couple of days.
Jessica O'Grady: But...
Jack Murphy: I insist... besides like you said, I handle the wrestling part and I've still got some wrestling business to take care of. I'll speak to you when I get back to the hotel ok? We can celebrate then.
Jessica O'Grady: Ok...
Without another word, Jessica leaves the room, lacking any of the pep that she just had. She almost slides under the door, so unheralded or vaunted. Pearl too leaves me promptly, despite the fact it's his own office. This leaves Jack and Sasha.
With a twinkle in her eye.
Sasha Volkyeva: I was expecting her to stay.
Jack Murphy: Me too... but I'm glad she's gone.
Sasha Volkyeva: Me too.
A smile between the two as the camera takes this time, of all times to decide to leave the office. The last thing we see is Murphy and Sasha getting a little closer...
A Message From God
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, ELLIS NASH
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND LIA
The scene starts off with Liam and Tim walking briskly down a hall way. Liam is carrying a duffle bag which holds the Strap On Dildo of God, while Tim is walking behind him shaking his head.
Tim Martin: Liam, you better be bringing this to somewhere where we won’t get our heads smashed, our fingers chopped, any of that bullshit. I’ve had enough of this “Let’s Kick The Fist’s Asses” tonight.
Liam Martin: Tim, my brother, I am bringing this to the whore of all whores. The one who God really CAN help.
Tim Martin: The whore of all whores?
The two stop in front of a door, no name on it or anything. Liam knocks a few times. After a few moments, the door opens up, and Ellis Nash is there. Once she realizes who it is, a look of disgust grows on her face.
Ellis Nash: You two? What do you want?
Tim Martin: I should’ve known, Liam! It makes sense!
Liam Martin: Yes, doesn’t it, Tim?
Ellis Nash: What are you two talking about?
Liam Martin: QUIET, WENCH! WE HAVE COME TO SAVE YOU!
Ellis Nash: …again?
Liam Martin: Erm, no, not like last time.
Tim Martin: Nothing you can hit us with this time.
Ellis Nash: Damn.
Liam Martin: BE QUIET! The White Lord has spoken to us…
Tim Martin: Correction: Spoken to Liam. I’m not retarded like my brother here.
Ellis Nash: Sure.
Liam Martin: And he has taken the form of a dirty tool a prostitute like yourself would use.
Ellis Nash: And that would be…
Liam Martin: SILENCE, SLUT! We will speak on behalf of the White Lord WITHOUT interruption from now on. If we ever want to know how many penises can fit into your vagina, we’ll ask you to talk. But otherwise, there is no need to open that STD infested mouth of yours.
Tim Martin: I’m guessing 12.
Ellis Nash: What? You little. . .
Liam Martin: SILENCE! As we were saying, the White Lord has spoken to us. And as this item, he told us to bring it to its owner, so he can try to cleanse her.
Ellis Nash: Cleanse?
Liam Martin: YES, WHORE! He needed to be reunited. He needed to speak to you in private.
Ellis Nash: Can I at least see it?
Tim Martin: You’ll be VERY familiar with it…
Liam pulls out the strap on dildo and holds it in front of her.
Liam Martin: YOUR GOD!
Ellis Nash: What the fuck?! Sure you assholes don't use it on each other!?!
Liam Martin: What?!
Tim Martin: Huh?!
Liam Martin: NO! NEVER!
Tim Martin: HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?!
Liam Martin: YOU FOUL-MOUTHED, VILE JEZZEBEL!
Tim Martin: ROT IN HELL WITH THE REST OF YOUR KIND!
Liam Martin: Come, now, Tim, let us leave this slut and let God tell her how to be.
Liam throws the strap on at Ellis. She catches it, and looks at it all confused.
Tim Martin: May God have mercy on your soul.
The two men walk off, leaving Ellis standing there in the doorway, a semi-stunned look on her face. Things couldn't get any worse.
Tempered Steel vs Collision Course
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: TASO
James Brunt: The following is a Duo tag match!
Truth Waters: Oh my Lord, the talent level in the Alliance division has soared with some great signings by the front office, and we get to look at a couple of those teams right here and now!
"Screwdriver" by the White Stripes starts to play and out come Tempered Steel. The fans cheer.
James Brunt: Coming to the ring at this time, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, weighing in at a combined six hundred and fifteen pounds... Hammer and Anvil... they are TEMPERED STEEL!
Truth Waters: These guys are blue-collar through and through, Cassidy.
George Cassidy: They look like a couple of ham and eggers to me, Waters. Maybe they should go back to the pub and sing Billy Joel songs or something.
James Brunt: And their opponents...
The arena blasts 'Hate To Say I Told You So' by The Hives, and fireworks explode in a criss cross fashion, as Joey Six and his partner Jiro Sennosuke come out with a vengeance.
James Brunt: Coming to the ring at a combined weight of three hundred and eighty-seven pounds, Joey Six and Jiro Sennosuke... they are COLLISION COURSE!
Six and Sennosuke look out to the fans as they head to the ring. They take their time slapping hands and pointing to all the people cheering them.
Truth Waters: Two new duos for the AWC roster. Even you have to admit this is awesome. Our duo roster is stacked right now!
George Cassidy: Yeah stacked like a pile of crap. Until these boys prove themselves it don't mean squat. The Unfuckables are just that, unfuckable. And right now, maybe unbeatable! Just ask anyone in the back.
Truth Waters: Hey, the two tag teams just shook hands. Mutual respect to some degree here, as this match is under way!
George Cassidy: Anvil is in there with Joey Six.
Truth Waters: Anvil is a powerhouse type wrestler. And he is in there against J-6, and there is the collar and elbow tie up in the middle of the ring. Both men pushing back and forth, they seem pretty even in strength. Joey Six getting pushed back slowly to the turnbuckle. Now he is in the corner, ref asks for a break... he gets a clean break from Anvil.
The two wrestlers circle each other, looking for an opening, then move in again.
Truth Waters: Back in the middle they go. Tie up, now Anvil with the headlock. Chicken wings him and cinches it in... grabs the other arm and switches to a cumberland armbar. Joey Six getting stretched here. Six with a back elbow and Anvil now switches over to a headlock again. Nice crisp movement from the Big A. Six pushes him to the ropes... push off... shoulder block by Anvil and J-6 goes down. Back to the ropes, running lariat by Anvil! J-6 to his feet... lariat! Anvil knocks him down again! To the ropes... axe handle smash on the back of Joey Six, and the kid is in trouble early in this match. Irish whip and Six crashes into enemy territory. Boot to the gut and he topples over... forearm smash... pinfall and hooks the leg...
One!
Tw-
Truth Waters: Six kicks out of the pin. Whoa! Fast action here! Keep up, Cassidy.
George Cassidy: Oh my God, they are so fast my eyes can't focus on their lightning fast movements... HAW HAW!
Truth Waters: Hilarious, Cassidy. Back in the ring, tag to Hammer and he comes into the ring. Hammer immediately to the ropes with a flying body press... CAUGHT! Front SLAM by Joey Six! Now Joey to the ropes... big clothesline! Heads to the ropes again and drops an elbow but Hammer JUST got out of the way! Roll up by Hammer out of nowhere!
ONE!
Truth Waters: Joey kicks out hard! Hammer to his feet and to the ropes again... KICK SNAP STO BY JOEY SIX! Cover!
ONE!
Truth Waters: WHOA! Hammer just Matrixed out of that cover. To the ropes... FEINT! Spinning Back Kick! Caught Joey Six in the gut! Lightning Kick! Whoa! Right to the side of the face! Joey Six is now officially ROCKED! Tornado roundhouse kick by Hammer! WOW! And six topples into the neutral corner... flying dropkick by Hammer! That was nasty! He caught him betwen the soles of his feet and the corner and smashed his face with that kick!
George Cassidy: Hammer is going to the top rope... he's known as a high flyer. Let's see what this guy can do in thin air.
Truth Waters: Flying headbutt! Joey has shown resilience...
ONE!
TW-
George Cassidy: Kick out by Joey Six! Kid has guts, not that it will do him any good.
Truth Waters: Hammer goes for the tag to Anvil. He grabs Joey and headbutts him... four, five times! Irish whip... forearm smash! Joey Six tumbles across the ropes... Anvil right there to grab him... belly to belly suplex! Cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: NO! Joey Six kicks out again! And Tempered Steel again tag. These guys have a strategy. They are working together to stay fresh, and so far they are keeping Joey Six too busy to get to his partner. Hammer in there, front face headlock. Switch to a side headlock... now climbs the ropes... tornado ddt! Joey Six has been taking a beating in there! DAMN!
George Cassidy: Yeah, he has, he takes a good ass whoopin', doesn't he?
Truth Waters: Hammer grabs J-6, belly to belly waistlock, lifts the biiger man up... wait... DDT! Joey Six reversed the move and hit a DDT! Both men to their feet andHammer to the ropes... jumping back elbow by Joey Six! He gets up but Hammer is right with him. Hammer with a clothesline but Six rolls under it... TAGS IN JIRO!
George Cassidy: Slingshot kick to the face on Hammer as Jiro jumps into the ring! OH! Kick to the face as Hammer was getting up! Jiro now grabs an arm and slaps on a reverse arm bar! Here comes Anvil!
Truth Waters: Jiro Sennosuke breaks the hold super quick, rolls on the mat and Anvil has to jump over him and hits the ropes. BAM! Jumping heel kick by Jiro! Hammer is still in there... POW! Spinebuster on Hammer! Anvil rushes in... FLOAT OVER ACE CRUSHER ON ANVIL! And Jiro is on fire!!!
Jiro slaps a headlock on Anvil as Hammer slides out of the ring. Arm drag by Jiro and down goes Anvil. Arm bar by Jiro holds Anvil to the mat. A keylock is applied as Anvil struggles to his feet. Kick to the back of the kneecap and Anvil drops to one knee. Jiro releases the keylock, steps back, and SLAMS a foot into Anvil's spine.
Truth Waters: Strong style, baby! We have had some great Japanese wrestlers in AWC and Jiro looks to be another. He has certainly slowed down the pace of this match, and this is what he needed to do because Tempered Steel was running wild in there for awhile. Dragom sleeper type hold by Jiro as he pulls back on the neck of Anvil. Flips him around as Anvil fights to get to his feet, now a front headlock by Jiro.
George Cassidy: His partner, Joey Six, can get himself a breather here that Jiro has taken over and stopped Tempered Steel's momentum. I thought that kid was about to get killed in there. I mean, I know he will sooner or later, but not in his first FRIKKIN' match!
Truth Waters: You are showing allot of faith in our new tag teams, Cassidy. You are a real positive influence on this program. Thanks for nothing.
George Cassidy: I do my best, you are welcome.
Truth Waters: Hammerlock by Jiro Sennosuke. Switch to the side headlock. Anvil uses his strength to push him to the ropes... push off... Jiro ducks under the clothesline... WHOOOA! PRESS SLAM! Anvil shows he is truly a powerhouse. Jiro stumbles to his feet... SAMOAN DROP! Anvil in control just like that and he tags in Hammer.
George Cassidy: In and out, tag, tag, tag... make up your minds, dammit!
Truth Waters: BELLY TO BACK SPLEX BY ANVIL ON JIRO! And Hammer now sets up... SPRINGBOARD LEG DROP! Cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: Hammer moving like lightning... hooks the leg... Jiro fights it... NO! FISHERMAN'S BUSTER! Cover by Hammer!
ONE!
TWO!
George Cassidy: Hey! Joey Six in there to break up the pin attempt! Good tag team awareness by J-6. He's good at getting his ass beat, and also he's good at breaking up pin attempts. Maybe I was too hard on these guys.
Truth Waters: The referee is all over Joey Six and Hammer gets the chance to tag in Anvil. They whip Jiro to the ropes... double back body drop! Now Anvil grabs Jiro... up and... oh what power! SLINGSHOT SUPLEX! He hooks the leg!
ONE!
TWO!
George Cassidy: Joey Six breaks it up again!
Truth Waters: Hammer tags in and he and Anvil again whip Jiro to the ropes... Anvil throws Jiro up in the air... OH MY GOD! FLYING FOREARM SMASH ON HAMMER! Anvil didn't see that! He turns around... forearm! Forearm! Chop! Chop! Right high kick! Left high kick! To the ropes... SPRINGBOARD NECKBREAKER!
George Cassidy: Jiro slowly struggles to his corner and Anvil does the same. They tag their respective partners at the same time! Do your thing, new blood!
Truth Waters: HERE COMES HAMMER! HERE COMES JOEY! DUCK UNDER BY JOEY! SUPERKICK! SUPERKICK ON HAMMER!
George Cassidy: SUPERKICK ON ANVIL! Joey Six knocks him off the apron! Hammer doesn't know what hit him... SIX SECOND HANGOVER!
Truth Waters:Cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: HAMMER KICKS OUT!
Jiro jumps into the ring and helps J-6 with a double team tag move. They whip their man to the ropes and hit a double flapjack. Anvil rushes into the ring and he shoulder blocks Joey Six into the corner and then all hell breaks loose.
Truth Waters: We got all four men in there and they are throwing down!
Joey Six has Hammer in one corner and is throwing back elbows to his face. Anvil misses a punch on Jiro, who slips around him and then starts to chop him to pieces. After a few seconds, Collision Course look at each other and decide to whip their repsective opponents at each other.
Truth Waters: Two Irish whips, opposite corners... Tempered Steel reverse! Dosi-Doe by Collision Course and they flip around! OH NO! Anvil ducked and pulled the ropes down and Joey Six flies over the top rope!
George Cassidy: Flying knee in the corner by Jiro Sennosuke on Hammer... but he doesn't see Anvil is right behind him, Truth!
Truth Waters: Waistlock on Jiro! He can't break it, and Hammer has recovered! SUPERKICK AND BELLY TO BACK SUPLEX COMBO! They call that PITTSTEMPERED!
George Cassidy: Call it whatever you want, they knocked Jiro back to Korakuan Hall!
Truth Waters: Hammer is heading to the top rope... Anvil hits a back breaker! Joey Six is still knocked silly on the outside! Hammer flies... FLATWIRE!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winners... TEMPERED STEEL!
Truth Waters: Solid tag team action! Tempered Steel gain the win and Collision Course gain some experience! Will they bounce back? They better, because the AWC tag team division is heating up, baby!
Wrong On Soooo Many Levels
FEATURING: ELLIS NASH, AIMZ, ADAM DICK
AUTHORS: LIA, KATIE AND JOE SCHMIDT
Apparently, things could get worse. Backstage, Ellis Nash had flinged her door open to come face to face with Aimz.
Aimz: We need to talk.
Ellis Nash: We do?
Ignoring an invitation inside, Aimz sighs and pushes her way past Ellis. She looks around the locker room with a cocked eyebrow before turning around.
Aimz: Yeah, we do. You and I are partners, in case you hadn't noticed.
Leaning against the door frame, Ellis crosses her arms over her chest, grinning.
Ellis Nash: I’ve had worse.
Aimz: Right. Whatever. ANYWAY... if you want this to work, you've gotta stay out of my way. Okay?
Ellis Nash: Uh, sure. O-kay.
Aimz: What the hell's that supposed to mean?
Ellis Nash: Er. Well, if you want me to break it down for you: ‘uh’ is usually a word used to emphas–
The redhead groans in frustration, throwing her hands up.
Aimz: I can already tell this is a disaster.
Ellis Nash: Why are you so dramatic? No wonder no one likes you.
Aimz: What? What made you think you could speak to me like that?
Before Ellis can reply, Adam Dick makes his presence known, gliding into the room.
Adam Dick: You heard the lady, WHORE! No one likes you!
Ellis sighs in annoyance. Adam Dick smiles happily and stands by his woman’s side, flinging an arm around Ellis’ shoulder. Ellis easily slides away, smacking the offending hand.
Ellis Nash: Seriously, Dick. I am SO not in the mood for this right now.
Adam Dick: C’mon, baby. Dick’ll get you in the mood.
Adam winks. Ellis wrinkles her nose in disgust. Aimz watches the debacle in bemusement.
Ellis Nash: You are repulsive.
Adam Dick: Why thank you, you’re looking fine your self. It DOES smell like sweat in here. Come on, I thought you chicks weren’t allowed to stink like ass.
Aimz: You can fuck off riiiiiight about now. We were in the middle of so-
Adam Dick: YOUR TRANSATLANTIC CHAMPION WILL DO NO SUCH THING!
Aimz leans over to Ellis.
Aimz: Can’t you get rid of him?
Ellis Nash: Pfft, have you actually SEEN our promos together? The man’s relentless.
Aimz: Hey, I still don't like you... but mind if I try something?
Ellis Nash: Go ahead.
Aimz approaches Adam with a fire in her walk that says she knows exactly what she wants in life. Before he understands what she’s doing, she takes him by the back of the head and holds him over, giving him a passionate kiss on the lips.
Ellis Nash: Ewwwww.
When Aimz is finished kissing Adam, it’s almost as if he’d been blown away. She, on the other hand, looks ready to throw up.
Adam Dick: Whoa.
Aimz: If you... want more where... (shudder)... that came from, meet me in the boiler room in thirty minutes.
Adam doesn’t say a word. He runs out of the room at full speed, disappearing through the corridors and once again leaving the women alone.
Ellis Nash: Gross. Just -
Amy gags again.
Aimz: Might've been gross... but it worked, didn’t it?
Ellis Nash: Just tell me you’re not going to carry through with it; I may be able to close my eyes in peace tonight.
Aimz: Me? Sleeping with him?! If kissing him nearly makes me hurl, can you imagine the... actually, let's not entertain this fantasy to the point of imagination, neither of us need to see or think that.
Ellis keeps grimacing.
Aimz: Come on, the rumors about me haven’t gotten that bad, have they?
Both twitch.
Aimz: Actually, don't answer that.
The Honorary Canadian
FEATURING: PATRICK MAPLELEAF, TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PATRICK
“Oh, Canada” starts to play through the arena, and the fans immediately start to boo. There is no appearance by Mapleleaf through the first part of the song, and then he walks out, wearing a Team Canada Hockey warm up jacket, blue jeans, and a blue and white Toronto Maple Leafs snow cap. In his left hand, he is carrying a wooden square with a golden surface. He marches right down, looking a little more humble than usual. He approaches the stairs, starts to go up, then goes back down. He walks over to the barrier and screams something at one of the fans. Then he slides under the bottom rope. A microphone is tossed to him from the side. He signals for the music to cut off. It promptly does.
Truth Waters: An embarrassed, humiliated Mapleleaf is here before us, Cassidy! This is not the usual Mapleleaf we all know and —
George Cassidy: Love! Yes, well, he just got humiliated by that bitch Tomas!
Truth Waters: If you ask me, he started it.
George Cassidy: Good thing no one asked you.
Truth Waters: What is that in his hand?
George Cassidy: Shh! He’s gonna start talking!
Patrick Mapleleaf: I tell you, sometimes I think there is something seriously wrong with this world. I come here to a place like Kentucky, and my lungs are nearly charred to bits because of all the goddamn pollution from the trucks! Trucks are for poor, white trash. If you ask me, the best made automobile is my baby blue Ferrari!
The fans boo in response and start a chant.
”CANADA SUCKS!
CANADA SUCKS!
CANADA SUCKS!”
Patrick Mapleleaf: All of you beer swilling, truck driving, lazy ass trailer trash can shove it! Speaking of trash, you may have all seen what went down backstage. I know that Teresa Tomas is watching this, so let’s make this simple. I only said what I said to her because I could not fathom all of those germs from her disgusting, unwashed body hopping onto my body of an Adonis! The truth is, Tomas is more of a man than any woman I’ve ever met! She’s more of a man than ¾ of the men this audience! Why, Tomas is so ugly, she’d even have trouble getting a date with Stevie Wonder!
Mapleleaf laughs hilariously to himself. He pulls a red and white cigarette pack out of his pocket. He shakes it, takes out a cigarette, puts it in his mouth, and lights it, taking a deep puff.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Damn, I love to smoke… Anyway, there’s another reason why I came out here. I would go on and on about Tomas, but man… just look at her! Need I say more? Better yet, look at all of you. She’s from Tennessee, which is right in your backyard. If you ask me, then should just put a chain link fence around the two states and let all of you live in your native habitat, throwing feces at each other! This state is the pinnacle of suckdom! Anyway, as I was going to say… umm… oh, fuckberries, I forgot…
The fans are getting restless. Mapleleaf scratches his head and takes another puff of his cigarette.
Truth Waters: Wow, real genius, huh?
George Cassidy: Are you implying that Patrick Mapleleaf is not intelligent?
Truth Waters: If the shoe fits…
George Cassidy: Nonsense!
Mapleleaf continues to pace around the ring. He shakes his head and sighs.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Shit! What was I going say?! Oh… oh, wait! Yes, the real reason I’m out here! Would Truth Waters and George Cassidy please come to the ring?
Truth Waters: What? Us?
George Cassidy: Let’s go!
Truth Waters: No! This is clearly a trap!
George Cassidy gets up from his seat. Truth Waters reluctantly follows. Cassidy and Waters walk down the ramp and into the ring. The fans are half booing, half cheering. The two announcers climb into the ring, where Mapleleaf is holding what looks like a plaque.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Hurry up! I ain’t got all night!
Waters and Cassidy arrive in the ring. Mapleleaf walks between them.
Patrick Mapleleaf: A time comes when it is necessary to recognize the hard work of others… to… make them aware that they have made a difference. Often, you will hear me criticize my AWC cohort, when, in truth, I do appreciate the work of a very few… so… tonight, I would like to recognize you, George Cassidy!
Cassidy gets a smile on his face as the fans boo loudly. Truth Waters shakes his head and sighs. Cassidy and Mapleleaf shake hands.
Patrick Mapleleaf: George, your no-holds-barred commentating and inability to care what others think is a credit to this company. You should be extremely proud of yourself. I also give you credit for working week after week with this fuckbag next to you!
The fans boo and chant.
”YOU SUCK!
YOU SUCK!
YOU SUCK!”
George Cassidy: Thanks, Mr. Mapleleaf! I admit, it isn’t easy!
Patrick Mapleleaf: So tonight, I proudly proclaim you as an HONORARY CANADIAN!
The fans boo as Mapleleaf hands the plaque over to Cassidy. Cassidy holds it up high, and Mapleleaf and Cassidy shake hands and hug.
Patrick Mapleleaf: And now… for you, Waters. Oh, I haven’t forgotten you, either. Truth Waters, I proudly present to you… a kick in the junk!
Mapleleaf goes for a low blow, but Waters nimbly moves out of the way. Mapleleaf is shocked and thrown off. Waters throws a punch that lands right in Mapleleaf’s face, sending him down to the mat. The fans cheer and whistle. Cassidy is stunned as Waters leaves the ring. Cassidy bends down to take care of a wounded Mapleleaf.
Patrick Mapleleaf: ARRGHH!! Goddamnit!
George Cassidy: Someone get a doctor! A medic! A… a…
Patrick Mapleleaf: Shut the hell up! I’m fine!
Mapleleaf gets up, clutching his jaw, his face flushed red. He looks at Cassidy, shakes his head, and storms out of the ring, about to throw the microphone carelessly into the crowd. He then begins to speak.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Chainz! I feel sorry for your ass tonight! I am going to make you pay for the transgressions of your fellow coworkers! I don’t give a shit what your reputation is around here… you’re finished! I will not only defeat you… I shall mutilate you! Cassidy, end this segment in style!
George Cassidy: You can all go suck an egg!
Mapleleaf stumbles up the ramp, clutching his jaw.
The Rumours Are True
FEATURING: LIAM MARTIN, CHAINZ, TRACY
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND SAM LANDRY
“Who’s my pretty girl?”
Liam Martin stops walking down a hallway and peers around him, no one is present.
“Look how lovely you are.”
The voice seems familiar, a ladies voice; an attractive ladies voice. Liam Martin stops in front of a locker room, one belonging to the man that’s been terrorizing woman throughout his stay in the AWC. Speaking of none other than Chainz.
Liam Martin pushes the door open a bit and sees Chainz sitting with his back to the door. Something is way off in his appearance however. He is wearing women’s lingerie; black and has high heels on. Tracy is standing in front of him applying makeup and such.
“Oh, you’re the best doll I’ve ever had.”
“I love playing make up with you.”
“Me too, you’re just the cutest.”
“Pass me them pictures will you?”
Tracy picks up a stack of photos from a desk and hands them over to Chainz. She pulls a chair next to Chainz and puts his feet onto her lap. Pulling out some paint she begins painting his toenails. Chainz begins flipping through the photos that are more than just birthday pictures. The photos are all of women, many of them lying gutted and dead. Several of the women are tied up and covered with blood. Chainz traces his finger around the face of each girl as he passes the photos from his hand. Liam Martin sighs the slightest sigh, but nothing gets by Chainz. Chainz doesn’t stop flipping through the photos.
“Come on Liam.”
Liam’s eyes widen in disbelief that he was found out. Slowly, he pushes the door open and steps into the locker room. He stands behind Chainz, waiting for an audience with the sociopath.
“What have you come here for, boy?”
“Erm, I just happened by and I thought I heard something.”
“And you just thought you would spy on me huh. You know curiosity killed the cat.”
Chainz puts the photos down and turns to face Liam. His face is a complete mess of make up, lipstick, and eye shadow. He sneers at Liam, making the racist tremble in his feet.
“What were those photos you were looking at?”
Chainz smiles.
“Just some crime scene photos of my girls.”
“Your girls… Oh my god, the rumors are true.”
“Now I thought you knew better than to listen to the grapevine.”
“Did you rape those women… and kill them?”
Chainz shrugs, but the grin on his lips and the twinkle in his eye tell other wise. Tracy stands up and heads over to Liam who swallows, hard. Tracy’s breasts protrude from her blouse revealing a ridiculous amount of cleavage. She begins rubbing Liam’s shoulders in a provocative manner.
“Mmm, such a strong young man.”
“Ohh, umm, stop you whore.”
“Is that what you really want?”
Tracy continues rubbing Liam, slowly inching her way down south.
“Stop that what are you… ohhhhhhh.”
Suddenly Tracy stops and backs up, laughing her head off.
“I think he just spoozed himself.”
“What, no whore, you’re spreading lies.”
Chainz stands up and gets right in the face of Liam.
“Look at you, pathetic, bet you haven’t been laid in years.”
“Chainz, I thought you were the white lord’s servant and good guy.”
“Fuck the white lord and fuck you and your brother.”
Liam Martin, enraged, throws a punch, but Chainz catches him and pushes him into a wall, getting in right behind me.
“Ohh you better watch out, you’re getting me all hard.”
Tracy giggles.
“Now than, you keep quite bout all this or I’ll show you the devil in me and I will take you to hell, got it son?”
Liam Martin nods and is released, he rubs his wrists and slowly walks out of the room, bumping into Tracy.
“Hey watch it.”
“Fuck him, come on, do my nails.”
Chainz sits down and Tracy resumes finishing off her doll.
The People Asked For It
FEATURING: NORTON & BRIDGES, TEMPERED STEEL, PLEASURE AND PAIN
AUTHORS: RYAN KEANEY AND MR. POWERFUL~!
”What to say, to make you come again?
Come back to me again, and play your sad guitar”
As the camera returns to the locker room of Norton & Bridges, it finds Chuck finishing off Ruben Stoddard’s “Superstar” with another unneeded but totally rock twanged finishes.
Settling himself in his seat and catching his breath, Chuck flashes a confident, pleased grin that clearly indicates an artist pleased with his work.
Russ Bridges: Good job…
Chuck Norton: Thank you!
And further praise from his partner can only help to increase that tender feeling of confidence and pleasure.
“That was… something else!”
Once again, as though all this little segments with N&B were to run the same pattern the mysterious voice’s owner is quickly discovered by the quick moving camera work. AWC has definitely put their best man to work with Norton and Bridges tonight. Poor guy.
Anyway, standing in front of the camera was debuting tag team Anvil and Hammer, collectively known as Tempered Steel.
Chuck Norton: Can I help you?
Anvil: You guys suck!
Russ Bridges: Wow… That was original.
Anvil: Simple and effective. That’s the way I like to keep things…
Chuck Norton: What do you want?
Hammer: To hear you play…
Anvil: We’re bored!
Russ Bridges: But you just said we suck!
Anvil: Yeah, I know… But we’re bored! Entertain us with how shit you guys are…
Chuck Norton: Couldn’t you like go hit on Ellis Nash or Aimz or something?
Hammer: Isn’t Ellis Nash a guy?
Anvil: And isn’t Aimz like diseased…
Russ Bridges: You guys are going to need to come up with better put downs if you want to succeed in this business. Those ones are just tired out already.
PING~!
No, no. It wasn’t a cameo by Mike Marvelous, just Hash Brown Bridges spiking the camera to not only break the fourth wall but also deliver an ironic, cheesy grin to highlight the humour in the manner in which he abused himself in abusing Tempered Steel. If you understand what just happened why are you still reading this…?
Rubbing their eyes after the building light that was Russ’ tooth-filled grin, Tempered Steel simply stood in silence watching the two country and western performers.
Chuck Norton: What?
Tempered Steel: PLAY!
Russ Bridges: We’re taking a break.
Chuck and Russ sat in silence simply staring at the wall.
Anvil: Play something…
“No they are not…”
Steeping into the room over the shoulder of Hammer was Tiara Belle Russell.
Tiara Belle Russell: These two have agreed that they are going to be quiet for the rest of the Fresh! broadcast.
Anvil: But didn’t you just hear them playing like a minute ago?
Tiara Belle Russell: No… I went for a walk… You guys played when you told me you wouldn’t?
Chuck Norton: The people asked for it…
Hammer: That we did…
Anvil: Play that song you said you would play for us…
Stopping, Chuck and Russ looked up at Tempered Steel. The two union workers would get their wishes and hear N&B sing. I hope they feel so happy after they get them to sing.
Russ Bridges: How did them… What the…
Chuck Norton: What?
Anvil: I think you’ll find Russ is simply confused how we managed to turn it from a situation where you didn’t want to play to a situation where you are going to play for us by joining your side and helping you in a little disagreement with the young lady here…
Russ Bridges: Yeah… What he said…
Chuck Norton: Who cares? Ready?
Hash Brown nodded as he began to string a few notes together. Tiara simply turned on her heel in disgust and left the room.
”My baby don't mess around
Because she loves me so”
Anvil: What is this? Acoustic rap?
Looking up from his guitar, Hash Brown nodded at Tempered Steel and continued to figure the notes for Outkast’s “Hey Ya!”
“And this I know for sure
But does she really want to
But can't stand to see me
Walk out the door”
Hammer: I hate rap music…
Anvil: Let’s go…
“Don't try to fight the feeling
Because the thought alone is killing me right now
Uh, thank god for mom and dad
For sticking through together”
Tempered Steel head off down the corridor as Norton and Bridges fade out their acoustic guitar rendition of Outkast’s “Hey Ya!”
Chuck Norton: Why are we stopping?
Russ Bridges: I hate that song… And we suck at it!
Chuck Norton: We don’t suck…
Russ Bridges: At that song… We do…
Chuck Norton: Okay, we do…
Mike Carman vs Darcy Crisis
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: TRENT
Truth Waters: Up next we have two wrestlers still testing the waters here in AWC, and with a combined experience of only three matches it is clear that both intend on getting off on the right foot in this competitive Club.
George Cassidy: A commentator’s dream - two rookies. Their mistakes are so easy to pick apart it’s almost painful.
Truth Waters: I wouldn’t look too much into that one, Cassidy.
George Cassidy: Already have. Darcy Crisis and Mike Carman. Poor saps, can’t even come up with a decent ring name. Whatever happened to names like “Hulk Hogan” and “Macho Man”?
Truth Waters: ...Ric Flair?
George Cassidy: Beside the point.
Truth Waters: Anyway, Crisis is hardly a rookie; he and Aimz, as we all now, were big stars in the now-defunct Pier Six Wrestling –
George Cassidy: Oh, I wasn’t counting events B.C..
A noise begins to fill the arena and the lights slowly begin to dim. "Stink Fist" by Tool continues to play as Mike Carman appears on the ramp-way.
It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To feel, to breathe, to know I'm alive.
Pyro erupts in front of Carman and he begins to walk down to the ring. He wears black tights with his name running down the sides. He bares no shirt and his hair blankets his face and eyes.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from New York City, weighing in at 218 pounds, Mike Carman!
Carman puts one hand through his hair and then charges towards the ring. He slides in and waits in the corner.
George Cassidy: Ah, turn that off! Is that supposed to be music!?
Hide your face forever...
Dream and search forever...
A heavy guitar riff hits, marking the opening of "Open Your Eyes" by the Guano Apes. Darcy Crisis bursts through the curtain with his arm raised high. He points at the fans who give him the biggest reactions, trying to get everybody fired up.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring, from East Bay, California, weighing in at 227 pounds, DARCY CRISIS!
Darcy slides into the ring under the ropes, taking in the fan reaction for a few moments before climbing the turnbuckle, thumping his chest twice and throwing both arms into the air.
Truth Waters: This guy here, Darcy Crisis, debuted only last week on Fresh!, and it should be noted he put in a decent showing. It should also be known that these two competitors are fairly matched, with identical heights and Crisis only edging out his opponent in the weight department by a mere 9 pounds.
George Cassidy: Should make for a boring match, then...
Truth Waters: I beg to differ.
Official for the match, Richie Travis, calls for the bell and it sounds. The match commences, with Mike Carman exploding out of his corner, looking for an elbow attack. The defender seems surprised by this sudden move but braces himself, grabbing his attacker’s arm and using his momentum to slam him face-first onto the canvas. Crisis keeps his grabs on Carman’s arm and uses his other arm to push against his back, putting him in a submission.
Truth Waters: Crisis unfazed by the early tempo that Carman is trying to set.
George Cassidy: Fast tempo is good. The quicker this match is over, the better.
The two wrestlers are positioned near the ropes, so Mike Carman has no trouble grabbing the bottom rope, causing his opponent to break the hold. Crisis lets go and grabs a fistful of Carman’s long hair, using it to yank him to his feet. Crisis smiles and gives him a quick shot to the mid-section with his boot, causing him to double over. The offender seizes the opportunity and throws Carman head-first into the turnbuckle.
Truth Waters: Aggressive approach by Darcy Crisis early on in this one.
Carman rebounds from the turnbuckle stumbling right into his opponent’s trap, and gets folded into a Suplex position. Crisis lifts his victim high into the air, holding him there. The delay is effective, getting the crowd to their feet and having them rally behind him. The attacker waits a little too long, however, and Carman slips over his shoulder and lands on his feet, behind his back. Crisis turns around only to be taken by the wrist. Carman whips his opponent hard into the opposite turnbuckle. Crisis reacts in agony with a hand pressed into his lower back.
Truth Waters: Mike Carman has clearly done his homework - Darcy Crisis has a history of back problems.
George Cassidy: At least one of these newbs has some brain cells.
Truth Waters: Mike Carman should exploit that weakness as much as possible, as it could be the difference in the match, something Jason Warr failed to realize last week.
Crisis drops to his knees in a dangerous position following the whip and Mike Carman is right on top of him, kicking him hard in the face and sending him crashing backwards. This allows the attacker to grab him by the legs and position him in the middle of the ring. Carman hooks his victim’s legs and flops him over, putting him in a Half-Crab, again going for his opponent’s back. Crisis screams in agony, but musters enough energy to pull himself out of the poorly executed submission and grab the ropes.
Truth Waters: Unnecessary error there, Mike Carman’s submission didn’t go as planned. The inexperience is starting to show.
George Cassidy: Rookies these days. That was a Half-Ass Crab.
Carman seems wary of his error, and is angered by it, so goes right back to work. He lifts his opponent off the ground and starts pummelling him with rights and lefts. He gets a little uncontrolled and Crisis takes advantage, side-stepping one of his blows. Crisis crouches down and thrusts his shoulder into his opponent’s side, executing a type of Side Spear. Due to lack of momentum, however, Carman stumbles backwards into the ropes, hooks his arms around the top rope, and pushes his body off hard, causing Crisis to fall back to the mat. Carman immediately bounces back off the ropes hoping to get his speed up but Darcy seemed to have rolled out of his fall and is to his feet. He throws his running opponent over his shoulder. Carman, taken by surprise, cannot control his landing and is sent right into the ropes, entangled.
Truth Waters: Crisis showing some intelligence in that sequence.
Carman gets himself out of his predicament and falls hard to the apron. Darcy Crisis sees the opportunity and climbs to the top rope nearest to his fallen opponent. Carman grabs on to the second rope to help him get up, still unaware of Crisis, who is perched on the turnbuckle behind him. Carman gets halfway to his feet and the attacker comes barrelling down on him. The defender turns at the last second and is blindsided by a Flying Clothesline, sending him crashing down to the outside. The attacker also falls hard on the outside mats.
Truth Waters: Oh my! Risky move by Darcy Crisis!
George Cassidy: I’d like to know what our heroic high-flier was thinking on that one. Good job, buddy, you hurt yourself just as much as your opponent.
Cassidy’s words are somewhat true, as Crisis is slow to his feet but up in time nonetheless. Aware of official Richie Travis closing in on the new five countout, Crisis picks up his opponent and tosses him into the ring, following suit. Crisis goes right back to work, stomping Carman with his right boot multiple times. Once satisfied, Crisis picks up his prey by the head and puts him into a headlock, wrenching aggressively on his neck. After twenty seconds of this, referee Richie Travis checks Carman’s consciousness. The victim keeps his arm in the air, however, and throws an elbow hard into Crisis’s mid-section. Crisis almost doubles over, but holds his submission. Carman wraps his left arm around his opponent’s back and tries to reverse the submission with a Back Body Drop. Crisis is aware, however, and stands his ground, releases his Head Lock for a split second and bringing his elbow down on Carman. Carman collapses to his knees, but Crisis wrenches him to his feet by his head and slams him down with a DDT. He falls on him for the first pin of the match.
ONE!
TWO!
Carman gets his shoulder up.
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis now taking complete control of this one.
George Cassidy: This match is getting longer by the second. I’m going for my bathroom break.
Truth Waters: What?!
George Cassidy: It’s in my contract. Want coffee?
Truth Waters: Unbelievable.
Back in the ring, Crisis has Carman back on his feet in a hurry. He grabs him by the wrist and tosses him into the turnbuckle. With his opponent in a standing position, leaning against the turnbuckle, Crisis charges after him. Crisis leaps in the air and spreads his arms, looking for a Splash. Carman regains composure at the last second and willingly drops on his back to the canvas, leaving the turnbuckle exposed for his attacker. Crisis realizes his predicament and tries to use his hands to grab the ropes to soften the blow. This slightly works, but his chest still slams into the top turnbuckle, causing him to let his grasp on the ropes loosen. This leaves a momentarily awkward situation: Crisis is about five feet above Carman, almost parallel to his opponent. Gravity pulls on Crisis and Carman prepares himself at the last second, pulling his knees into his chest and pointing the soles of his feet upwards. Crisis lands on the bottoms of Carman’s feet, balancing there dangerously for a second. This gives Carman enough time to muster enough leg strength to push hard into his opponent’s chest, sending him helplessly flailing into the middle of the ring.
Truth Waters: Wow! What a sequence!
Carman is as quick to his feet as his legs will let him and on top of his opponent, hooking his legs. He pulls Crisis onto his front and locks him in a Boston Crab, this time making no mistake, pulling mercilessly on his back.
Truth Waters: Mike Carman continues to work on Crisis’s back! What tactic by the youngster.
Richie Travis promptly asks the victim if he quits, but Crisis shakes his head in agony. After a long period of this, Crisis takes a risk, and it pays off. Darcy uses his hands against the mat to push him upward, perhaps putting more pain on his back. He squirms until somehow he manages to slip back between his opponent’s legs, his shoulder blades pressed against the canvas, and kicks his legs up hard. Carman’s hold on Crisis’s legs isn’t strong enough and Carman gets a swift boot right to the chin.
Truth Waters: WOW!! Crisis made his opponent look like a fool!
George Cassidy: If you let me put my input on the match in once and a while, I’d make everybody look like fools!
Truth Waters: Nice to know you’re back...
George Cassidy: Thankfully, I probably didn’t miss much.
Mike Carman stumbles backwards following the kick, but doesn’t give Crisis time to recover, and pounces on him. Carman pins him to the ground and gives him a few quick blows, then uses his hands to press his shoulders to the ground.
ONE!
TWO!
In a sudden turn of events, Darcy Crisis, active with his legs again, manages to slip both legs onto Mike Carman’s shoulders, and reverses the pin. Crisis presses his opponent’s legs to the ground.
ONE!
TWO!
Carman rolls out of the attempt and both competitors are to their feet. They square off in mid ring and get into a grapple. Neither can gain the distinct power advantage, so they push off on each other. Darcy Crisis gets a burst of adrenaline and takes out Mike Carman with a forearm blast to the face, sending him to the canvas. Crisis is up quickly, stomping his opponent. He limps away, his back bothering him from the Boston Crab by Mike Carman, and climbs daringly to the top rope as the crowd edges him on with cheers. Crisis leaps off the turnbuckle, but Mike Carman, who sees his predicament, grabs onto the nearby bottom rope and pulls himself out of the way. Crisis crashes to the canvas.
Truth Waters: OUCH!! A risky move that doesn’t pay off.
George Cassidy: If he doesn’t stop taking risks, he’s going to end up in the ER with critical back spasms. These heroes always have to push their limits, don’t they?
Truth Waters: Mike Carman is going for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
Darcy Crisis forces his shoulder in the air, but Mike Carman is unfazed. He shakes off the cobwebs and gets right back on the attack, picking up Darcy Crisis from the mat. Steadying him, Carman kicks him hard in the mid section which causes Crisis to double over. Carman is quickly back on the attack, bouncing off the nearest ropes and sailing back towards his target, grabbing him by the head...
Truth Waters: CARMAN CUTTER!!
George Cassidy: Dallas Paige would be proud, people still ripping him off.
The crowd bursts with cheers as Carman is back on his feet, sauntering over to the top rope, and everybody knows what’s coming next. He leaps off the top rope towards his prey, flipping in the air, trying for the Leg Drop.
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis gets his knees up! The Silent Dwell is no good!
George Cassidy: Can this match go on any longer?
Both wrestlers remained grounded as referee Richie Travis starts the count. Both wrestlers slowly get to their feet, but eventually regain their composure, squaring off in mid-ring. They exchange blows, but the tiredness is beginning to show. Crisis manages to muster a quick kick to his opponent’s knee, which allows him to grab Carman by the back of the head and slam his opponent’s face into his knee. This sends him reeling away from Crisis, but Crisis stalks after him, grabbing him from behind and throwing him over in a German Suplex. Carman shows his agility and flips backwards using his momentum in mid-air and lands flat on his feet. Crisis, who doesn’t expect this, turns around unbeknownst to his opponent’s presence and gets pulverized with a High Kick right to the jaw. This gets the crowd going, and Carman responds by making his way over to the turnbuckle. Beginning to tire, he is slow to ascend to the top rope for the second time, but eventually makes it there. He steadies himself, focussing a little too much on his footwork. He looks up to find Crisis right beneath him, with not enough time to execute a move.
Truth Waters: Miscue by Mike Carman, he could have landed himself in a predicament here.
George Cassidy: Now if I were Darcy Crisis, and I didn’t end the contest here, I’d cap myself.
Truth Waters: That’s why he’s living his dream, and you’re sitting next to me in this booth, bitching and complaining about everything and anything.
Crisis gives his opponent a quick shot to the ribs, but Carman maintains his balance on the top turnbuckle. This gives Crisis enough time for himself to climb to the second ropes, clearly looking for something big. Carman isn’t willing to give up, however, and returns the shot Crisis gave him seconds before. Crisis holds his position, and responds with a right hand of his own. The exchange more blows, Carman teetering dangerously on the top rope. Finally Crisis gains confidence and gets the upper hand with continuous right hands. Carman now out of it, Crisis does something unexpected: using his opponent as balance, he steps from the second ropes to the top rope. Both of Crisis’s feet balance dangerously to the left of Mike Carman, and Crisis gets Mike Carman into a headlock. The crowd is getting rowdy.
George Cassidy: What the HELL is this idiot DOING?!
Truth Waters: He’s got both feet balanced on one rope with his opponent levelled with him. A simple push could spell catastrophe.
George Cassidy: Nothing good can come of this... I love it!
Truth Waters: LOOK OUT!
Complimented with “Ooohs!” and “Awwes!” from the entire crowd, in one bold and daring move Darcy Crisis leaps from the rope, both feet swinging in the air, his momentum making him fall backward with his right arm wrapped around Carman’s neck. He brings him down in a tenacious DDT that shakes the ring.
Truth Waters: DEAR GOD! Crisis showing the mindset of a Cruiserweight, and it pays off!
George Cassidy: Not bad.
Crisis crawls to his opponent and hooks his leg, and Richie Travis drops to the canvas for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The bell rings, and Darcy Crisis is slow to his feet, but he celebrates the victory nonetheless, with Richie Travis holding his hand in the air.
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis gains his second victory here in the Atlantic Wrestling Club, and not without style, that’s certain.
George Cassidy: Congratulations, you lucky bastard, now go pop painkillers for your back.
Truth Waters: And Cassidy stays true to his style with an asshole remark to end the match... we’ll be back momentarily with Chainz and Patrick Mapleleaf!
Tainted Love
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY
The scene begins with Tim sitting at a table somewhere, reading the bible intently. From off screen…
Liam Martin: (unseen) TIM! MY GOD, TIM! IT WAS HORRIBLE!
Liam rushes onto the camera, breathing heavily.
Tim Martin: Liam, please, you’re over reacting. First you think that… um… erm… ”something” is talking to you… what is it now?
Liam Martin: It was horrible, Tim!
Tim Martin: Horrible?
Liam Martin: HORRIBLE! Chainz was wearing a dress…
Tim Martin: A dress?!
Liam Martin: And that jezebel Tracy was hitting on me incessantly…
Tim Martin: Flaunting of sexuality?!
Liam Martin: And… and Chainz… looking at pictures of… blood… gore… sex!
Tim Martin: Liam…
Liam Martin: Yes, brother?
SLAP!
Tim Martin: YOU HAVE BECOME TAINTED!!!
Liam Martin: T-Tainted, brother?
Tim Martin: Yes, my poor brother! The Black Devil has infested your mind, making you see things in our White Lord-loving friend Chainz!
Liam Martin: No, Timothy, it is true! Please, come for yourself!
Tim Martin: I will come… but I beg you to be right. (looks at the bible) I guess you’ll have to wait longer, Mark…
The Fists get up and walk off.
The Heat Thief Strikes Again!
FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, ADAM DICK, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND FERGUS
Jack Murphy: Well well well, if it isn't the new champion? I see you're in fine form this evening, and I'll give you credit where credit is due, despite your cheap shot. Well done.
Murphy offers his hand to Adam Dick who stands right in front of him, having just burst in on Murphy and Sasha Volkyeva in the middle of a conversation. Currently Sasha looks very intrigued at the pairing.
Adam Dick: Who are you again?
Jack's smile turns admittedly sour, but Adam slaps it off his back in jest.
Adam Dick: Just kidding, I know who you are! You're the guy who couldn't beat who I did! Congrats for trying!
Jack's smile, needless to say, did not return.
Adam Dick: Sash, I've got a few words to share with ya's. You don't mind if I... ?
Jack Murphy: Actually, we were -
Sasha Volkyeva: Not at all! My office door is ALWAYS open to a man of your calibre, Mr. Dick.
Adam Dick: PLEASE! Call me Adam.
Murphy looks incredulously towards Sasha who completely ignores the stare he's giving. It seems despite his best efforts, she's more enamored with the one called Dick for now.
Jack Murphy: (sneering) Better someone who lost fairly than a man who never won properly in the first place...
Adam Dick: I'm sorry? Do I have to point at my belt again or would it be better right in your face? Go snort in some other direction while I deal with important matters.
After the silence of Adam's words, the next noise to break the silence is the sound of The Bull's neck cracking as he twists it.
Sasha Volkyeva: This is neither the time or the place Jack. Now Mr... I mean Adam, what can I do for you?
Adam turns to Jack for only a moment longer, and smiles his devilish grin, before turning back to Sasha.
Adam Dick: Well, Sash, you know as well as I do that the current state of AWC is lacking a pizzazz it needs. I wasn't bullshitting in my Promo; everyone thinks we're destined for greatness when I see that we're truly on the path straight to the shitter!
Sasha Volkyeva: What are you suggesting Adam?
Adam smiles, reaffirming those Transatlantic and Alliance straps that sit so snugly on the both of his shoulders.
Adam Dick: Well, as Transatlantic Champion, I feel that I've earned my right, as the best AWC has to offer, to be involved in the decision making process that goes on here. It's somewhat unfair for the roster to be treated as mere employees when we're just as important as any person in a managerial position!
Murphy's eyes open wide and somehow he begins to choke.
Jack Murphy: You've got to be kidding right? You?
Sasha Volkyeva: I'm listening...
Jack Murphy: (sarcastically) Oh yeah, please do...
Adam Dick: What I'm proposing is that, as Transatlantic champion, I am placed in a position to help make the decisions that you and David Harber make every day. Whether it be the power to make or alter matches, or even grant well deserved opportunities to my colleagues that I feel the two of you may overlook at times. Being as close to the roster as I am, as well as the Champion, it's only fitting that I be granted a small slice of the authoritative action around here. The roster, after all, needs someone that they can trust amongst them in a world littered with positions of power.
Adam smiles cheerfully, optimistically, at the woman who co-signs his paychecks.
Jack Murphy: Like you're close to the roster... or was that tough love out in front of the crowd tonight? You trying to spark another riot on your hands because dammit you're doing a pretty good job so far. If you get anywhere near power people are going to freak. Never mind the fact that despite Lavelle's suspect background... you ran out one of the only true wrestlers left in AWC. This is madness of the highest order... right Sasha?
Sasha Volkyeva: Hmmm... I don't know, I think it could work.
Jack Murphy: (slapping forehead) You've got to be kidding.
Sasha Volkyeva: No... and Jack, don't use that sort of tone with me.
Dick standing in the background grins from ear to ear and then resorts to giving Sasha her full attention when she turns back around.
Sasha Volkyeva: If, I was to give you this power... what sort of suggestions would you give me for tonight for example?
Adam Dick: What sort of suggestions? Well, Lady, I'll TELL YA!
Adam has a moment of self-doubt, that the Bull no doubt bares witness to, but his presence of pressure was more than an aid to Adam under these situations "under fire."
Adam Dick: First of all, I wouldn't be putting two newbs like Harris and Jones in the Main Event! This isn't GCW or the lame ass Bloodbox; this is AWC. I earned my position at the top of the card when I showed up, just like Mike Wade did! I'd be putting people in that match like, uh...
For a second, Adam finds himself stuck, however he comes up with the two superstars names that seem to strike a chord in the heart of Mother Russia.
Adam Dick: People like Chainz! And Jack Murphy!
He places his hands on Jack's shoulders from behind Jack's chair, establishing the physical contact needed when praising a co-worker. The Bull stays calm and swiftly jerks his shoulders forward to upheave Dick's hands away.
Jack Murphy: (scoffing) Chainz? The man doesn't know wrestling from over-sexed under-aged teenagers, do you really think that'd work with me in there? If you're looking for a slaughter then sure, but it's not going to be anything to write home about. You know you can do better than that.
Murphy looks towards him, offering the platform while Sasha waits patiently, seeing the two men eyeing each other.
Adam Dick: Oh, did I say Chainz? I totally meant Red Rock.
Adam's face is a crimson red of nervousness, sweat bullets dripping down his forehead as he waits for Sasha's approval. They may as well have been in Pearl's office; it was that fucking hot.
Adam Dick: And I sure as hell would have dealt with the vacant Frontier title belt by now!
Adam blurts that out there, almost as if he's trying to cover his ass. Now it's time for Murphy to be smug and chuckle at Dick's attempts to impress the Entertainment Co-Manager. He stands up, pacing the room, trying to heighten the pressure placed on the Champion's shoulders even more.
Sasha Volkyeva: Red Rock versus Jack Murphy... for the Frontier title. You know, that doesn't sound too bad does it? After all, it's a nice little return for when Jack destroyed Rock and with the added bait of the Frontier title being on the line... that could just work. Wouldn't you think so Jack?
Murphy has stopped in the middle of the room, stunned by Sasha's reaction. Meanwhile Dick blows some air out of his mouth, thankful for his super fried brain bringing him to the rescue once again. With Sasha between the two men, Adam begins making eyes at Sasha's different features, cupping in the air much to Murphy's rage. He's right about ready to break when Sasha speaks again.
Sasha Volkyeva: Yes... I think this could very well work Adam, especially with ideas like that. We must talk more about this don't you think? Jack, we can finish what we were dealing with later alright? I'll speak to you again.
Jack Murphy: Are you sure -
Adam Dick: OF COURSE SHE'S FUCKING SURE!
Adam, once again, places his hand firmly on Jack's shoulders.
Adam Dick: C'mon, Jack! It's the wave of the future! I mean, AWC is going to have an Unfuckable Year! WOOT WOOT!
Adam begins dancing around Jack, gracefully of course, and blissfully happy that his half-baked scheme happened to work.
Jack tugs at his beard, seeing to him a complete retard bouncing around the room. Holding in his urge to punch him, Murphy smiles at Sasha.
Jack Murphy: If you say so. Goodnight Sasha.
Sasha Volkyeva: Goodnight Jack.
Walking towards the door we hear the mumbling just as Murphy is about to leave.
Adam Dick: And Jesus, next time wear some sort of aftershave dickwad, I could smell your potato ass all the way down the corridor.
Breathing heavily, the Bull exits the room, leaving the two others on their own.
Adam Dick: I thought he'd never leave.
Sasha Volkyeva: So did I.
The Truth
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, CHAINZ, TRACY
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND MIKE S.
The scene opens with Tim rushing down the hallway. Liam is following close behind, frantically waving his arms.
Liam Martin: You’ll see it, Tim! Chainz is infested! Infested with the devil! An evil being!
Tim Martin: You’ve been tarnished, Liam!
Liam Martin: No!
Tim Martin: The devil has gotten into you! You’re seeing things now! I can’t honestly believe that our friend, the White Lord’s disciple Chainz, is wearing WOMAN’S CLOTHES?! Looking at pictures of RAPE and MURDER?!
Liam Martin: And Tracy was tempting me! Lord, I tried, but she tempted me! She’s too pretty for a normal woman, she must have sold her soul to the devil for that beauty.
Tim and Liam arrive outside of Chainz’ locker room.
Tim Martin: The moment of truth is now, Liam.
Tim Martin knocks on the door.
Chainz: Come in.
Tim opens the door and walks inside. The camera is focused on him from inside of the room. He walks in there and he has a smile on his face.
Tim Martin: I hope we didn’t intrude, brother Chainz…
The camera swings around to show Chainz and Tracy sitting at the table. They are not dressed in their usual attire, though. Chainz is in a suit — a very nice one at that. He is wearing handsome glasses and looks like a legitimate person. Tracy is wearing a very NON-slutty turtle neck sweater, reading out of “The Woman’s Bible”. Chainz is writing on some kind of form.
Chainz: Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it; I’m just doing my taxes, that’s all.
Tim Martin: Ah yes, thanking the White Lord through our government! Understandable!
Chainz: Mhm. Say, is your brother Liam around?
Liam bursts into the room.
Liam Martin: SEE? SEE TIM?! THEY’RE… erm… what?
Chainz: Liam! So glad you returned! Back to discuss the White Lord more, eh?
Liam Martin: What happened to the pictures? The dress? And… Tracy! What happened to your boobs?! WHY IS THERE NO MORE CLEAVAGE?!
Tim Martin: Liam! Quiet! Don’t distract the woman! She’s learning!
The camera goes to Tracy who is intently reading out of the bible.
Chainz: You need to watch that sharp tongue of yours around my woman. Now, Tim, is there anything else I can help you with? Would you like to discuss the Lord like Liam and I did?
Tim Martin: No, Chainz, I dare not… I have a brother to chew out…
Liam Martin: But he was infested! And she was a whore! They were destined for hell, Tim!
Tim Martin: You call taxes destined for hell?! ONLY MEXICANS DON’T PAY TAXES, LIAM! ARE YOU MEXICAN?!
Liam Martin: No, but…
Tim Martin: And you make FALSE ACCUSATIONS! THE LORD IS CRYING!
Liam Martin: There were pictures of torn bodies! I puked, for Christ’s sake! IT was on the floor!
The camera zooms onto the floor, which is as clean as a whistle.
Tim Martin: OH LORD, LIAM, YOU ARE INFECTED! THE DEVIL IS INSIDE OF YOU, MAKING YOU EJACULATE ON THE VIRGINS OF HEAVEN!
Liam Martin: NO! CHAINZ IS NOT THE HOLY MAN WE THOUGHT HE WAS!
Tim Martin: REPENT, LIAM! YOU FOOL REPENT!
Liam Martin: NO! BELIEVE ME!
Suddenly, Chainz stands from his seat stiffly. He leans over the table closely to Tim, stopping all conversation. He begins sniffing up and down Tim.
Tim Martin: …excuse me, Chainz, may I help you?
Chainz: You remind me of someone I used to know in jail.
Tim Martin: Wha…
Chainz: A very good looking boy… great physique… great looks…
Tim Martin: Are you…
Chainz: I made him my bitch… you interested?
Tim Martin: Oh God…
Liam Martin: See Tim? SEE?!
Suddenly, Tim sticks his fingers in his ears…
Tim Martin: GOD! GOD! GOD! LA! LA! LA! CAN’T HEAR YOU, CHAINZ, LOVER OF THE WHITE LORD!
Liam Martin: We have to go. Now.
Tim Martin: NO ONE MADE ANY PASSES AT ME IN THE LAST FIVE MINUTES! NO ONE! LA! LA! LA!
Chainz: You know what, you should leave this room before I do something you don’t want me to do?
Tim Martin: LA! LA! LA!
Tim and Liam step outside and Tim walks a little further away down the hallway until they are far enough away from Chainz’ room.
Tim Martin: LIAM, FROM NOW ON…
Liam Martin: Tim, fingers in ears need to be removed…
Tim Martin: (removes his fingers) Oh, sorry. Liam, from now on, that NEVER happened. If anyone asks us, Chainz is a nice, young man who loves the Lord. What just happened NEVER happened, ok?
Liam Martin: If you say so…
The two men walk away, Tim with a blank, cold look on his face. Liam just looks straight-up sick.
Return Of The State Of The Violence Address
FEATURING: VINCE JONES, JASMINE, RENO BANKS, SHAWN HARRIS
AUTHORS: JAY AND JEFF
All of a sudden a message in red lettering slowly fades in on the screen and a rather gruff voice reads it out loud.
The proceeding announcement has been paid for by the man that you will all soon come to know as the greatest superstar to ever set foot in "A Dubb C", 'The Violence' Vince Jones. The views expressed in this telecast are solely those of Vince Jones and not of AWC although he knows all of his claims to be truth. At this time Vince Jones would like to say that upon the viewing of this telecast you all have just kissed his ass. "Nuff said". Now sit back, relax, and pay homage to the greatness that is 'The Violence' Vince Jones and be thankful that you don't have to witness that same greatness while he's breaking his foot off in your worthless asses in the ring. Thank you and enjoy!
The message slowly fades away and "Hail to the Chief" begins to play as a title flashes up on the screen.
The State of The Violence Address
All of a sudden the record comes to an abrupt halt and the traditional "Hail to the Chief" is replaced by a hip-hop sounding remix of the song. A gruff voice reads the title outloud over the music.
Announcer: A Dubb C, 'The Violence' Vince Jones is proud to present to you bitch mades and hoes the return of The State of The Violence Address. Brought to you in part, by Bubblin' Bootay Wine. When you lookin' for a little bubble in your bootay look no further than the good shit, Bubblin' Bootay Wine. Also brought to you in part by Roscoe's Chicken and Waffle Hut, makin' the ghetto smile and pokin' out guts for 20 years and countin'. And now I present to you the one and only Vince fuckin' Jones...
The message fades out and the camera fades into a small room where Vince Jones is seen sitting in a room reminiscent to the President's Oval Office. On the back wall is hung an American flag which is hung upside down. In place of the presidential seal that would be seen on the President's desk is Vince Jones' own seal with "The Violence" written on it in blood red and a picture of a gun on it. The shelves behind him on either side are lined with books. As the camera zooms in Vince Jones he can be seen wearing his black tanktop, black elbow pads, black fingerless gloves, and his trademark dark shades. Standing beside him is his lovely valet, Jasmine, who is wearing a rather provocative female business suit today that fits snug around her figure and her chest. Vince Jones laughs to himself as he looks dead on at the camera and the music fades out.
Vince Jones: Good evenin' bitches. Its been a helluva a long time, but finally V. Jones brings to you once again the most anticipated segment in pro wrestlin' today. That's right. V. Jones talkin' 'bout his famous State of The Violence Address. V. Jones was sittin' around thinkin' to himself now what the hell he gonna do to give the people a lil treat this week? What can V. Jones do to make the night of his debut match even more special? And that's how the return was put in motion. Now before we get down to a lil biz. Can we swing the camera ova a bit so these people can get a glimpse of the baddest bitch this game's eva seen? V ain't talkin' 'bout Tracy, Aimz, Ellis Nash, Teresa Tomas, or any of those otha tricks. V talkin' 'bout his home girl, Jasmine 'The Crown Jewel of Wrestlin'
The camera pans and zooms in on Jasmine as she looks back at the camera with a seductive gaze and blows a kiss right back at it.
Vince Jones: She lookin' fine as eva and she's aligned with one of the biggest names in the game. What more can a chica ask for, huh? Aiight. That's enough starin', kid. Get that camera back on V where it belongs!
The camera turns and faces Vince Jones once again.
Vince Jones: That's more like it. Well, V'd like to start things off tonight by recognizin' that A Dubb C got a new TransAtlantic Champ, Adam Dick 'The Face-Eater'. (in sarcasm) At this time V and Jasmine would like to show how much we appreciate you.
Vince Jones and Jasmine both raise their middle fingers up and wave them in front of the camera rather defiantly.
Vince Jones: That's right. You're number one. Keep in mind that you oughta remember to keep that belt nice and shiny. Clean that shit up real good, cuz V. Jones plannin' on wearin' that lil strap of yours around his waist in due time.
Vince Jones chuckles to himself as he leans back in the desk chair and looks on at the camera with a gaze of nonchalance.
Vince Jones: Oh, and with that said it’s only appropriate that we take this moment to mourn the former champ, Pierce Lavelle. At this time let's have a moment of silence.
Vince and Jasmine bow their heads then V. Jones immediately raises his head and just shakes his head.
Vince Jones: Silence ova! Lavelle got dicked, case closed! Now the cat sittin' on the sidelines prolly thinkin' to himself (in a whiny voice) Will I eva be champ again? (shakes his head and looks dead on at the camera) Hell nah! But, on a brighta note there is one cat that ain't sittin' on the sidelines this week and that's none otha than yours truly, 'The Violence' Vince Jones. Turns out he teamin' up with Jeff Harris... uh... Shawn Harris later on in the night and takin' on...(pauses in thought) We takin' on... fuck!
Vince Jones looks off camera.
Vince Jones: Reno, who the hell The Violence steppin' in the ring with again? Must not be of much importance or somethin' cuz V. Jones can't remember their damn names.
Reno Banks: (from off camera) Mr. Jones, you're facing the likes of Ellis Nash and Aimz.
Vince looks at him in total confusion at the sound of the names.
Vince Jones: Who?
Reno Banks: (from off camera) Ellis Nash and Aimz.
Vince Jones: (nods) Oh yeah. Those two sparrin' dummies. Well, V. Jones used to takin' on chumps like that two-on-one in the ring when it comes to warmin' up and all. The tag team partna ain't necessary for this one, but what you gonna do? Less asses to kick to go around is what its lookin' like here. Now at this time V. Jones has the honor of presentin' to you people his tag team partna for the night, Jeff Harris. Now V. Jones and Jeff may have had some problems with one another earlier on in the night, but coola heads prevailed and all. Jeff Harris realized that he was in the wrong and that startin' shit with V. Jones would be a horrible career decision to make at this stage in the game. So, he comes out here tonight in front of the world to apologize, to get down on his knees and beg for V's forgiveness, to basically kiss V's black ass to make sure V. Jones is down to do whateva to make this tag team work tonight. (motions for Shawn Harris to enter) Aight Jeff! Get yo ass on out here! The people are waitin'!
Shawn Harris doesn't appear and Vince Jones looks around in confusion.
Vince Jones: Jeff! Where the hell you at, huh? You ruinin' V's flow out here! Now get the hell on out here, son! Ya killin' the ratings!
Still no one arrives. Vince and Jasmine look around in confusion. Vince leans back and whispers to Jasmine.
Vince Jones: Somethin' ain't right. V can feel it.
Vince Jones rises to his feet and looks around. He kicks the desk in fury.
Vince Jones: JEFF!!
Vince begins walking away from the desk and looks off camera at Reno Banks.
Vince Jones: Reno, where the hell that bitch made at, huh? We runnin' a show here and he runnin' late!
All of a sudden the sound of scurrying footsteps can be heard off camera and Jasmine turns around. Her eyes grow wide with terror.
Jasmine: V!!!! Look out!
Vince Jones: (in confusion) Huh?
Vince Jones whirls around and is immediately met with a diving Evolutionized Dropkick with the aid of a metal folding chair to the face from Shawn Harris that knocks Vince off his feet. Jasmine immediately dives behind the desk chair for cover. Shawn Harris rolls on top of Vince Jones and begins nailing him with mounted punches to the face.
Reno Banks: (off camera) SECURITY!! SECURITY!! WE NEED SECURITY OUT HERE NOW!!
Shawn Harris continues laying into Vince Jones with mounted punches as Vince struggles to regain his senses and fight back.
Shawn Harris: I said it once and I’ll say it again, I am the “New Fucking Evolution” Shawn Harris and before this night is done, Evolution will have passed your ass by.
Jasmine rises to her feet and rushes over to try and help Vince, but Shawn Harris turns and hits her with a Shadow Kick [superkick] to the jaw he then turns around and hits Vince with a standing shooting star press. All of a sudden AWC security team, Bruno Hague, Butch Radder, and Taz Yorke rush onto the scene and pounce on Shawn Harris pulling him off of Vince. Vince immediately rolls over and reaches for his Louisville Slugger bat from behind his desk and tries to lunge forwards at Shawn Harris to attack, but he is pounced upon as well and restrained. They stand the two kicking and yelling wrestlers to their feet facing one another.
Vince Jones: You think you gonna get the drop on V. Jones and not pay for that shit, HUH!? You wait, kid! YOU JUST WAIT! We'll see how much of a big man you are out there in that main event tonight, bitch! You betta come through in this match cuz after tonight it’s on! Your ass is grass!
Shawn Harris spits in the face of Vince Jones as the two are being dragged off camera.
Shawn Harris: Like I need you to beat a couple of inbred ugly tarts. Evolution will reign supreme, no one will even remember who the fuck you are!
Vince Jones: Oh, we'll see about that shit!
Patrick Mapleleaf vs Chainz
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: OBINNA O.
Truth Waters: This is bound to be a good one, Cassidy, and neither of these two men are about to back down from a fight.
George Cassidy: If you think anyone but Chainz is going to… whoa, here we go!
James Brunt: The following is a singles match.
"Cure" by The Wild Colonials hits and Chainz steps out from the crowd, enduring huge heat from the crowd. He shakes his head, sneering. Tracy soon appears and the crowd gives a huge pop that dies down as she grips Chainz's bicep, leaning against him lovingly. Chainz gives the crowd a victorious smirk as he strolls down the entrance ramp towards the ring.
James Brunt: Entering the ring first, he weighs in at 295 pounds and hails from Birmingham, Alabama! He is CHAINZ!
George Cassidy: The crowd are filled with perverts today, Truth! I bet every one of them — male, female, and otherwise — had their eyes on those long, loooong legs and those big —
Truth Waters: Brains?
George Cassidy: Tracy? Brains? Hah!
Chainz rolls into the ring and stands up, striding towards the other side. He jawjacks at the crowd, pointing at them angrily. Suddenly, "Cure" is cut in favor of the Canadian national anthem. The crowd gives a big pop as Patrick Mapleleaf appears, mostly because they would favor anyone over Chainz. Mapleleaf comes down the ramp at full speed, forcing Tracy to scurry out of his way.
James Brunt: Uhh… Here's Patrick Mapleleaf!
Truth Waters: Look at Mapleleaf go! He's in the ring!
George Cassidy: A tremendous back suplex to start things off!
Truth Waters: Chainz is back on his feet, though, and he's firing off those right hands!
Chainz backs Mapleleaf into a corner and gives him a swift boot to the gut as the referee calls for the bell. He goes to hammer throw him into the opposite corner, but Mapleleaf reverses it. Chainz hits the turnbuckles hard and Mapleleaf is there to meet him, drilling him in the chest with a dropkick! Chainz slumps a bit in the corner and Patrick locks him up with a front facelock, lifting him into the air and then dropping him with a sitout suplex slam!
Truth Waters: Michinoku Driver II from Mapleleaf. That Canuck is firmly in control here.
George Cassidy: Tracy's cheering on her man, though, and she's not gonna give up!
Truth Waters: Mapleleaf brings Chainz to his feet here… explo — NO!
George Cassidy: Chainz pushes him into the ropes and punishes him with a clothesline! Patty Mapleleaf had better learn a lesson from all this!
Mapleleaf hits his head as he tumbles to the outside, laying motionless on the concrete. Chainz looks down at him and sneers before stepping out on the apron.
ONE!
Chainz measures his opponent up and then takes a few steps, leaping off the apron for an elbow drop… but Mapleleaf rolls out of the way! Chainz screams in pain as he writhes on the ground, at the mercy of Patrick Mapleleaf.
TWO!
Mapleleaf grins broadly as he lifts Chainz up by the chin and rolls him into the ring, breaking the count. Mapleleaf follows quickly, rising to his feet and putting the boots to Chainz. He lifts Chainz off the mat and locks in an armwringer, kicking him hard in the stomach.
Truth Waters: Look at what he's doing here, Cassidy. He's making sure Chainz can't mount any sort of offense. With a guy as dangerous as that in the ring with you, this is good policy.
George Cassidy: Chainz isn't about to a scrawny Canadian like Patrick— OOF!
Mapleleaf drops Chainz with a quick DDT, sending the Alabama-native onto his back. Patrick sits Chainz up, standing and looking to lock in a buffalo sleeper. Before he can get it fully applied, though, Chainz strikes upwards with a punch to the jaw that takes Patrick off his game just enough for Chainz to push himself up, carrying Mapleleaf down for a jawbreaker! Stunned, Mapleleaf pops right back up and falls promptly to the canvas.
George Cassidy: Surprise, Patsy!
Truth Waters: This is not looking good here; Mapleleaf can't afford to let Chainz have the upper hand for too long, 'cause just a few of his moves can leave you laid the hell out!
George Cassidy: And here's evidence! Sitout spinebuter from Chainz!
Satisfied, Chainz gets up and grabs Mapleleaf by his hair, drawing him up as well. He batters the Canadian with repeated forearms, sending him backwards into the ropes. Quickly, Chainz surges forward, looking for another clothesline, but Patrick ducks it! Both men spin around on their heels and Mapleleaf hurls Chainz over with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex, leaving Chainz to squirm on the ground once again. Patrick attacks, wrapping his legs around Chainz's neck with a triangle choke!
George Cassidy: What is Mapleleaf trying to do here? I wasn't aware he had a new move called "Lick My Nuts."
Truth Waters: … he doesn't.
George Cassidy: I don’t see what else he could be trying to accomplish here.
Truth Waters: You have no appreciation for wrestling, do you?
Patrick squeezes in the hold as Chainz kicks his legs wildly, trying to escape. Finally, Chainz manages to get his leg on the bottom rope. The referee calls for Patrick to release the hold and, after some convincing and a threat of a five count, Patrick does so. Chainz immediately takes the opportunity to roll to the outside. Tracy races to his side, rubbing his neck gingerly. An incensed Mapleleaf gets out to the apron, but Chainz reaches up and pulls him off with a military press. The crowd holds a collective breath as Chainz launches Patrick into the ring between the middle and top ropes before climbing back in.
George Cassidy: That is how you take care of business, Truth! That power is what makes you a superstar!
Suddenly, there is a small pop from right behind the commentators, who both instinctively look up at the stage where Teresa Tomas has appeared. She meanders down the ramp and stands at ringside, watching the match.
George Cassidy: Teresa Tomas? What is she doing out here?
Truth Waters: Not a clue, but Mapleleaf is up on his feet and they're having a brawl! Chainz with the upper hand… sneaky drop toe hold from Mapleleaf!
Chainz holds his chest as he rises slowly. Mapleleaf charges into the ropes, looking to do more damage. HE comes off the ropes towards Chainz, but Chainz is ready for him and he grabs him in a bearhug under the arms. With Patrick's momentum, he lifts the Canadian into the air and then kicks his legs out, drilling Mapleleaf into the ground with a modified sidewalk slam! The ring appears to shake as Chainz goes for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
Truth Waters: Too close for Mapleleaf there. He could have been seeing ceiling tonight.
George Cassidy: He's looking at the ceiling right now, courtesy of Chainz!
Truth Waters: Stop talking, honky.
Chainz draws Mapleleaf up by the hair and blasts him with a huge knee lift! Mapleleaf gasps for air and Chainz catches his arms, promptly drilling him into the mat with a lifting double-arm DDT! Chainz turns Mapleleaf over and hooks the leg, almost folding Mapleleaf into quarters as he looks for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
The crowd pops as Chainz is once again denied the win. Frustrated, Chainz grabs a handful of his hair before standing up, snarling.
Truth Waters: Mapleleaf is a real competitor, Cassidy. Chainz is gonna have to do a lot better than this.
George Cassidy: Mapleleaf just has luck on his side. Chainz breaks luck! With his teeth!
Chainz lifts Mapleleaf to his feet, but Patrick appears to have a sudden burst of energy, launching into Chainz with rapid right hands! Chainz begins to fight back, but Mapleleaf scores a shin kick that shifts that tide back into his favor. Quickly, Patrick whips Chainz into the ropes, standing ready for his return.
Truth Waters: He catches his arm and we're looking at a Full Blown Ca-
George Cassidy: Chainz reverses it and sends Patty-Boy into the ropes!
Truth Waters: Mapleleaf comes back and Chainz has him up for a spine —
George Cassidy: NO! Mapleleaf frees his legs and scores a flipover neckbreaker!
Both men lie still after the exchange, breathing heavily. The referee looks them over, but before Lars can make the first count, Mapleleaf rolls over onto his stomach. He shoots a victorious grin up at the crowd before bouncing up to his feet. He glances over at Tracy and puckers his lips before moving towards Chainz, lifting him back to a vertical base. Slipping behind Chainz, he quickly locks on a three-quarter nelson, tugging at the larger man's arms painfully.
George Cassidy: I've never understood the fascination with this submission stuff. Just looks like a bunch of pansy compensation to me.
Truth Waters: Whether that's the case or not, this is certainly hurting Chainz. If he doesn't look for a release soon, he may find himself tapping out right here!
Chainz shakes his head defiantly as Lars questions him on whether or not he wants to continue. Quickly, Chainz leans forward, lifting Patrick up onto his back. Trying to secure his hold as long as possible, Mapleleaf responds by locking in a body scissors. However, this works in Chainz's favor: the Alabaman gets a running start before leaping up into the air, kicking his legs forward and hitting a senton-style move, crushing Patrick into the mat!
George Cassidy: See what I mean, Truth!? A pansy move that gets taken out by proper wrestling!
Truth Waters: Submissions are proper wrestling!
George Cassidy: Says you.
Truth Waters: I recall telling you to stop talking.
Chainz peels Mapleleaf off the canvas and locks in a quick standing head scissors. He takes the time to give a middle finger to the crowd, shouting at them. He then leans down to grab Mapleleaf's torso, but Patrick puts his hands on his thighs and pushes up, lifting Chainz over. As Chainz comes over , Mapleleaf grabs one of Chainz's arms and drops back, nailing him with a mountain bomb!
Truth Waters: Mapleleaf might have found himself a saving grace right there, Cassidy. He's got a hold of one of Chainz's arms and he turns him over… ashigatame!
George Cassidy: What?
Truth Waters: It's an armbar!
George Cassidy: Sorry, it sounded like you choked on something.
Chainz reaches out and grips the ropes fairly quickly, much to the dismay of Patrick Mapleleaf. Mapleleaf moves aside, laying it wait for Chainz to get to his feet. As Chainz uses the ropes to pull himself up, Mapleleaf quickly moves to his back, locking in a reverse waistlock. Patrick looks to lift him up, but Chainz plants his feet and grips the ropes, refusing to move. Chainz hits Mapleleaf with a back elbow forcing Mapleleaf to step backwards. He looks for a discus punch, but Patrick ducks it. As Chainz continues spinning, Mapleleaf pushes him chest-first into the ropes. Chainz bounces backwards, backpedaling unsteadily. Mapleleaf catches him and pulls him over for a reverse fireman's carry, but he leaps up in mid-move and crushes Chainz with a burning hammer!
George Cassidy: NO! NO! NO!
Truth Waters: Mapleleaf catches him with a prawn hold for the pin!
George Cassidy: KICKOUT!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
The crowd erupts with boos at the powerful kickout from Chainz. As Tomas turns heel and walks off back up the ramp, Mapleleaf moves in to continue attacking Chainz, but Chainz hurls Mapleleaf through the ropes! Patrick hangs onto the bottom rope and pulls himself onto the apron, but as he rolls in, Chainz gets to stomping. After a bit, Chainz pulls Mapleleaf up to his feet and lifts Mapleleaf onto his shoulders. Mapleleaf wriggles in an attempt to escape the hold, but Chainz simply presses Mapleleaf up over his head and drops him down with a dominating gutbuster!
Truth Waters: Chainz knows what he needs to do here. He's gotta take away Mapleleaf's momentum.
George Cassidy: Chainz always knows what he needs to do. Did you miss something?
Truth Waters: Meanwhile, Teresa Tomas has seen enough and is heading back to the locker room!
Chainz begins to hammer away at the now-standing Patrick Mapleleaf, staggering him with right hands. Chainz runs past the stunned Mapleleaf, hitting the ropes hard. Mapleleaf does a watusi before Chainz flips him head over heels with a clothesline! Mapleleaf lands on his face, but he quickly pops up and scurries into the corner, leaning against the ropes to catch his breath. Chainz quickly takes the initiative, charging into the corner and crushing Mapleleaf with a knee smash!
George Cassidy: I think Chainz is gonna look for a finish here soon! Yeah, he's setting Mapleleaf up on the top rope! This is gonna be big!
Truth Waters: I don't know if Chainz can pull this off!
Chainz gets up onto the second rope and grips Mapleleaf, squeezing him tightly in a bearhug. Mapleleaf cries out, his spine in danger of being snapped. Chainz then lifts up, looking to hurl Mapleleaf over, but Patrick punches the larger man square between the eyes! Chainz's eyes roll backwards into his head and he falls off the rope, landing hard on the ground. Mapleleaf looks down at him and climbs up onto the top rope, leaping off…
Truth Waters: BIG elbow drop from Mapleleaf, and here's a cover!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
ROPE BREAK!
George Cassidy: Chainz's middle name is "ring presence," Truth!
Truth Waters: …and his first name is?
George Cassidy: Shut up.
Mapleleaf sits up overcome by disbelief, his head in his hands. He finally gets over it, turning around and lifting Chainz to his feet. He presses Chainz up against the ropes, hitting him with a knife-edge chop to the throat. Chainz recoils, but Mapleleaf quickly launches the bigger man across the ring. Chainz comes off the ropes and Mapleleaf lunges at him, looking for a leaping clothesline. Chainz ducks it and stops on a dime, twisting around. Mapleleaf turns around and Chainz catches his eye, grinning evilly.
George Cassidy: CHAIN LI — NO!
Truth Waters: Mapleleaf ducks it and he grabs Chainz around the waist, flooring him with an Olympic takedown!
Mapleleaf wraps his arms around Chainz's head, but Chainz sucessfully grips the ropes. Frustrated, Mapleleaf springs to his feet and puts the boots to Chainz. Under the assault, Chainz manages to stand up, shielding his face from the repeated attacks. Chainz shoves Mapleleaf away and lunges forward, clearly looking for a lariat. Mapleleaf manages to catch his arm and drag him to the ground, locking in the Full Blown Canadian crossface!
Truth Waters: Here we go! Chainz can't get out!
George Cassidy: Reach! Reach! You can get the ropes…!
Truth Waters: Chainz is almost… he taps! He taps! Chainz couldn't take it!
James Brunt: The winner… PATRICK MAPLELEAF!
Truth Waters: Mapleleaf makes a great comeback to win the match after being punished by a relentless Chainz!
George Cassidy: There is no honor in Patrick Mapleleaf! No honor!
Words And Deeds
FEATURING: MADDY ESTELLE, ANTON ASSAULT, LUIS FERRARA, HATE
AUTHOR: OBINNA O.
The camera goes backstage in front of a caged background. Standing off to the left side is Maddy Estelle, nitpicking at her dress. In the middle of the scene, albeit a bit to the back, is Anton Assault, standing impassively with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears a multicolored dashiki, taking away from his imposing appearance ever so slightly. Just in front of him and over to the right is Luis Ferrara, wearing an immaculate white zoot suit. He strokes his goatee as Maddy finally notices the camera.
Maddy Estelle: Hello, AWC fans, I'm Maddy Estelle. I'm backstage here with new AWC wrestler Anton Assault and his manager, Luis Ferrari.
Luis gives her a winning smile and grabs her by the chin, rising on his toes to meet her face to face.
Luis Ferrara: Ferrara, bitch.
Maddy frowns at him and goes to pull away, but Luis snatches the mic from her before landing flat-footed.
Luis Ferrara: Listen up, AWC, and listen good. The Lion here? He's the new breed, mang. He's a new style of wrestler that is coming to dominate this business. The type of wrestler that doesn't mess around with useless jumpin' around, y'understand. The type of wrestler that doesn't poke you in the eye, y'understand, trying to distract you. Every hit counts. Every. Hit. Counts.
Luis smacks his other fist against his chest with each beat to accentuate the feeling. Anton tilts his head, scowling at the camera.
Luis Ferrara: He is the master of his domain and he always has been. Before, that domain was a cage where two people were pitted to fight, fist aginst fist, foot against foot, to draw blood, holmes. His domain was where you put your pride on the line, because the only way to lose was to get knocked out or to give up. Now? Now his domain is the wrestling ring, mang. Now his domain is a place where you chulos have gotten cozy because you haven't had someone around like him.
Luis smiles wickedly and Anton nods his assent.
Luis Ferrara: You haven't had a real fighter. So, y'understand, it's only a matter of time until gold glitters on his waist. Relentless. Frontier. Trans… Atlantic. It's only a matter of time until the Lion is on top and he's beatin' the faces of all you idiots in. Listen up, AWC, and listen up. The Lion is here and you had better watch out.
Anton smiles, lifting his chin dominantly. Luis steps towards the camera, pointing at it.
Luis Ferrara: And Hate? Listen, you little puta, you ain't shit! Don't come at me again, lay your hands on me when I try and strike a deal. There is a word we use back in my country to describe the fate of people like you: hung… drawn… and quartered. You come near me, lookin' all mad like you gonna try somethin', and I'm gonna have three words for you!
Luis ticks a finger off of his left hand and Anton tilts his head, his face twisted menacingly.
Luis Ferrara: Crush!
Luis ticks another finger off.
Luis Ferrara: Kill!
Luis ticks off a third finger.
Luis Ferrara: De—
Luis freezes at the sound of heavy breathing. Anton turns his head to the right and the camera swivels over, showing the intimidating HATE standing right there! Luis takes a few steps backwards, fearful. Hate brings his arm back to swing at the Venezuelan, but Anton steps in, shoving Hate backwards! Anton quickly whips off his dashiki and blocks a right hand from Hate, scoring a big uppercut shotei. Hate reels and Anton blasts him with leaping shoulderblock that sends him against the wall.
Anton backs up and then charges in again, smashing Hate in the stomach with a running shoulder tackle. Hate is doubled over and Anton quickly lifts him up onto his shoulders, twisting and bringing him down in a knee-out tombstone piledriver! Hate lays sprawled out on the ground and Anton kneels over him, heaving mightily. Luis leans over Hate, jabbing his finger in his face.
Luis Ferrara: Crush!
Anton Assault: CRUSH!!
Luis Ferrara: Kill!
Anton Assault: KILL!!!!
Luis Ferrara: Destro—
Anton Assault: DESTROOOOOYYY!!!!!!
Luis adjusts his suit and drops the mic, stalking off. Anton rises quickly and follows his manager, spitting on the ground. They walk past a shocked Maddy Estelle, leaving her alone with the fallen Hate nearby.
Norton & Bridges Meet... The Redneck Woman
FEATURING: NORTON & BRIDGES, TERESA TOMAS, WAYNE RUSSELL
AUTHORS: RYAN KEANEY, ADAM ST. OURS AND SONYA
The camera opens to see Chuck Norton, Russell Bridges and Teresa Tomas singing the secret third verse to Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places.” Teresa is seated on the floor between the two men wearing jeans and a navy t-shirt.
”I guess I was wrong
I just don't belong
But then, I've been there before
And everything is alright
I'll just say goodnight
And I'll show myself to the door
I didn't mean to cause a big scene
Just wait 'til I finish this glass
Then sweet little lady
I'll head back to the bar
And you can KISS MY ASS”
Ending the song there, Chuck and Russ wipe their foreheads after a very physical performance as Teresa howls and applauds the two men.
Chuck Norton: Finally someone willing to join in our sing along…
Teresa Tomas: Thank *hic-* you *-cup*
Russ Bridges: How many drinks have you had?
Teresa Tomas: Five or six… Maybe seven… I’m not sure, I gave up counting after I got to nine…
Smiling to themselves, Norton & Bridges realise that it is a little bit of Dutch courage that has caused the first sing-along-er to take part.
Chuck Norton: Well, to say thank you we want to sing you a song…
Teresa Tomas: Sing me a song…
Russ nods and smiles, to which Teresa gets a funny glow about her face. She is delighted with the gift.
After counting Chuck in, Russ prepares to sing the song that Chuck is plucking (Oh yes, I got that one from the thesaurus as well) on his guitar.
”Well, I ain't never been the Barbie doll type
No, I can't swig that sweet Champagne, I'd rather drink beer all night”
As Russ sings, Teresa climbs to her feet, taking a bottle of Jack Daniels with her and heads for the door. Quickly breaking off the song which was in case you were wondering “Redneck Woman” by Gretchen Wilson.
Chuck Norton: Hey, where are you going?
Stopping, Teresa spins to address Norton and Bridges.
Teresa Tomas: I’m leaving…
Chuck Norton: Why?
Russ Bridges: Come on! Stay! We haven’t even sang you the song yet!
Teresa Tomas: Hold on… Give me that…
Reaching forward, Teresa beckons for Hash Brown to give her the guitar. Obliging Russ hands the guitar into the hands of Teresa and awaits her to play a song.
Instead, she smacks the guitar against the wall, and again. And then tosses into the “burning” fire.
In a total state of shock that his favourite guitar has been smashed in tow, Russ simply stares up at Teresa.
Teresa Tomas: I HATE that song…
Without reaction from the broken hearted Hash Brown and just as stunned Chuck, Teresa sways out of the room and disappears down the corridor.
As she exits, Wayne Russell storms into the room.
Wayne Russell: Listen guys, this music has to stop… You are annoying…
Wayne’s prepared speech trails off as he notices the broken guitar lying on the floor and the tear-filled eyes of Russ Bridges. Sensing a bad moment the Pleasure & Pain member back steps out of the locker room.
Wayne Russell: Never mind… Problem solved.
Plot Holes/Devices
FEATURING: ADAM DICK, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Adam Dick: You wanted to see me, boss?
Shutting himself inside David Harber’s unusually steamy office, the latest Double Champion in the Unfuckables camp finds himself with instant pit-stains, matching that of the Entertainment Manager who sits at the desk in front of him.
Adam Dick: FUCK it is hot in here!
Pearl: Sit down.
Adam Dick: EXCUSE ME?! I’m not Chainz or one of the other jobbers around here, Harb. I’m THE FUCKING TRANSATLANTIC CHAMPION, and you will address me as such!
Ooh, David’s soooo biting his lip right now, using every ounce of composure that makes him up to stop himself from swinging at the Face-Eater at that moment.
Pearl: Please, sit down.
Adam Dick: NO!
Pearl rubs his head, shrouded in the agony that accompanies any interaction with Adam.
Adam Dick: Well, these chairs DO look awfully comfortable...
The Face takes his seat, but is immediately displeased afterward.
Adam Dick: Dammit Harb, these chairs are shit! I’ve got the circulation cut off to my asscheeks already, I can’t do with Pins and needles on my ass! I’m a Champion god dammit!
Pearl: Will you shut up?
Adam Dick: Why!?
Pearl: So we can talk about your actions.
Adam Dick: WHAT ACTIONS?!
Short fuse tonight, Harber…
Pearl: GETTING PIERCE LAVELLE A ONE-YEAR BAN FROM WRESTLING?! DOES THAT RING A BELL?!
Adam Dick: ...I didn’t do that!
Pearl: And who did, the tooth fairy?
Adam Dick: Maybe, I didn’t think the guy actually existed but if you say he did then –
Pearl: Shut up — you and I both know what really happened the past few months. You can get the newspapers to cut it any way they’d like but I’m not going to be hand-fed your bullshit. Pierce may not be allowed to the arena this week, but it’s only a matter of time until you’re caught for what you’ve done. And when Lavelle comes back, you’ll regret –
Adam begins to stand up.
Adam Dick: You know, this is no way to treat your champion, Pearl. So I’m going to go get a soda, let you think about what you said for a sec-
Pearl: Sit down, you aren’t going anywhere.
So, Adam sits back down.
Pearl: I thought the DA would solve this by cutting through this veil you’ve set up, but it seems that he’s caught up in your web of lies as well.
Adam Dick: Don’t you have more important things to worry about? Like vacant title belts that need Unfuckable champions? Sheesh, next week we’ll really start to see the changes I can bring to this place.
Pearl’s eyebrows raise at the news.
Pearl: What are you talking about?
Adam Dick: Oh, just this little bit of authority Sasha granted me. Sort of an earned right, you know, as champion.
Pearl: Authority? YOU? I would allow no such thing!
Adam Dick: Well it happened. Sasha said so, and you know you can’t really over-turn what she does and stuff — hey, did you watch Lost last week? How about that Mr. Eko, eh –
Pearl: Shut up. You’ve got to be kidding me.
Adam Dick: I speak TRUTH, Harb! THE MO’FUCKIN’ GOSPEL!
Pearl: Right, I’d like to hear this truth — but it will have to wait five minutes while I go speak with Ms Volkyeva about her... reckless decisions. I want you to stay here until I get back, alright? No sneaking off to get someone else to cover your ass.
Adam Dick: I don’t NEED anyone to cover my ass, Pearl. I’ve got it on fucking lock-down!
Adam gives Pearl a falsely enthused thumbs-up as he steps up from his desk and goes to leave. Shutting the door behind him, Pearl left Adam all to his lonesome within the heat-box known as his office.
Adam Dick: That guy is such a loser.
Adam steps to his feet, immediately taken to rummaging through the CEM’s private things. A loose stack of papers lined his desk and shelves, white sheets practically exploding out of file cabinets.
There’s not one item that particularly interests Adam that happened to be lying around; a practical sin for someone of importance who’s private things were being invaded. How could he not have anything of interest for Adam to find -
Adam Dick: Well, Hell-Oh.
Adam, noticing the shimmer of a blue tint below a stack of folders, shoves everything that sat in the way until he finally set eyes upon a sight that had been long since forgotten.
Adam Dick: NO. WAY.
In his hand, is the Blue Briefcase; the very ‘MYSTERY’ prize that Tim Shipley had won at Triangles. The real one, not the Aliso substitute, not the bomb. The real deal. Unopened. Untainted. More specifically, Unutilized!
Adam grabs the suitcase, and with the eyes of a cat-burglar stalking out of his score, returns to his locker-room with a prize that may not be his.
Harris/Jones vs Nash/Aimz
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
“Rock Shit” by Hush begins to blast out over the speakers, and the lull from the fans disappears as many rise to their feet to hurl abuse at the former star of PRIME.
Truth Waters: It’s main event time, and we’re going to be seeing two outspoken new signings taking on arguably the two most impressive female wrestlers in AWC in a Duo Tag match.
George Cassidy: Aimz barely qualifies as a wrestler, Truth...
Truth Waters: Actually, she has been adding more genuine manoeuvres to her repertoire of late, but I’ll agree the Red Raver does tend to adopt a very rough around the edges style in the ring.
Aimz walks brashly down to the ring, studiously ignoring the fans, who to their dismay cannot throw things at her owing to the wire fence separating them from the ringside area, though a few opportunists make ambitious lobs of merchandise over the fence. One idiot tries to throw his beer up and over; needless to say, a second later he’s soaked in golden goodness.
James Brunt: The following is a Duo Tag match! Introducing first, from Halifax, Canada, weighing in at 147 pounds... The Red Raver, AIMZ!
Truth Waters: Aimz hasn’t quite shot to the top of AWC like many predicted she would after she jumped ship from PRIME. In a Four Way Fury match last week on Fresh!, Aimz was beaten to the pin on Sage – who has now been released and returns to the independents – by Ellis Nash, who will be her tag partner tonight.
George Cassidy: I dunno, Truth, these are two very headstrong ladies, we may not be seeing much cooperation. Same on the other side, with “The Violence” Vince Jones and Shawn Harris, who’s used to being a big fish in a little pond... VJ won’t stand for any of that.
The lights dim somewhat. Short strums of the guitar vibrate through the speakers and the audience, recognizing the familiar tune almost immediately, begin to boo their asses off. By this time, "Club Slut" by Hot Action Cop has already kicked into its simple drum and guitar beat.
You say you want you a club slut who got the big fat ass
The kind that got them DSL's and shake her booty fast
Pushing the curtains aside in an almost irritated manner, Ellis Nash stalks onto the stage, looking at the disparaging audience with a disgusted frown. Looking at her nails, Ellis inspects them tenderly before flashing her middle finger high to the now chafed crowd of cows. As the song's chorus drowns out their disapproving chants, two pyros from either side of the stage shoot off towards the ceiling, white in color.
James Brunt: And her partner, from Cortland, New York, weighing in at 117 pounds... ELLIS NASH!
Get up on the dance floor and now shake your butt
Cause you know you're getting in on with the club slut
You know you like it fast
She left you on your ass
George Cassidy: I think I am in love...
Truth Waters: What happened to the marriage, Cassidy?
George Cassidy: You know too fucking well what happened to the –
Truth Waters: Cassidy! We need to get you a swear box.
George Cassidy: Fuck no.
Pompously swaggering down the rampway, Ellis ignores the women hurling various obscenities at her (by hurling them right back) and the numerous, sweaty hands of teenage boys itching for a touch of heavenly Nash. Stopping at the bottom, Ellis looks to both of her sides, narrowing her eyes with a shit-eating grin before rolling into the ring. Ellis, once inside the ring, uses only her upper arms to propel herself to her feet. With a broad smile, Ellis slaps James Brunt's shoulder mockingly before heading off to study Aimz with a sneer-yet-smile in their corner of the ring.
Truth Waters: Very, er, provocative entrance music accompanying Ellis Nash to the ring...
Truth is cut off as the lights dim, dry ice starting to line the rampway. All of a sudden a loud, booming, demon- like voice bellows out the message...
"PREPARE TO ENTER MY HELL, MY REALM, AND MY GAME..."
...as the words flash up on the screen in pulsing red letters. The message quickly fades away and the voice bellows out the message...
"...ENTER THE VIOLENCE"
...as the words appear on the video screen embossed by flames. All of a sudden a loud gunshot rings out through the arena. The opening chords of 'Thug Luv' begin to play as the oh so familiar voice of 2Pac is heard throughout the arena…
Fool, we doin' this shit from Cleveland to L.A.
Whatever you bitches want. We bringin' it!
Thug luv, bitch! What time is it?
Yo, I don't give a fuck where you lay at, fool!
It's time to slay these Bitch-ass killas
They ain't even knowin' what type of thugs we is. Where my thugs at?
The sound of a cocking of a gun, followed by gunshot repeated throughout is heard ringing out in the arena.
James Brunt: Their opponent, being accompanied to the ring by Jasmine, from New York City, weighing in at 269 pounds... “THE VIOLENCE” VINCE JONES!
Bone thugs-n-harmony
I know you fools been waitin' for this shit for a long time
Well, here it is! Here it is!
What you gonna do with it?
"The Violence" Vince Jones emerges from the entrance and makes his way to the edge of the rampway with a black baseball bat in hand followed by the lovely Jasmine. He stops and raises the baseball bat in the air and flashes the hand sign of his old gang from New York as red pyro explodes behind him. He slowly makes his way down ringside totally oblivious to the flickering camera flashes and the hatred of the crowd. He slides into the ring, climbs the nearest turnbuckle and looks out at the crowd as if he's in a trance, drawing in energy from the hatred the crowd has for him. He finally awakens and points the baseball bat out at the members of the crowd and once again raises the baseball bat above his head and flashes the hand sign of his gang. He then climbs back down to the mat and raises the bat threateningly as a disdainful Aimz catches his eye.
Truth Waters: You know, if he wasn’t such an arrogant asshole, I might like this Jones.
George Cassidy: You know, if he didn’t indulge in all this “look at me, I'm a black gangster” crap, I might like this Jones.
Truth and George: Regardless, he’s a top star and –
George Cassidy: Hey!
Truth Waters: ...is sure to – make it – big in – come on, Cassidy! Keep going!
George Cassidy: I will play no part in this nonsense.
The methodical sound of "Cruci-Fiction In Space" by Marilyn Manson starts up as the fans immediatly begin booing, as the words "Evolution" show up on the screen and scenes from Shawn's past battles are shown. Shawn then steps out from the back and stands at the top of the stage scanning the crowd.
Truth Waters: Here comes Shawn Harris.
George Cassidy: The Violence eyes him suspiciously as he just stands in the middle of that ring, bossing it...
Truth Waters: Like he owns the place.
George Cassidy: Give him a month or two to catch up with that Transatlantic title and he will!
James Brunt: And finally, his partner, from Clearwater, Florida, weighing in at 220 pounds... "THE NEW F'N EVOLUTION" SHAWN HARRIS!
Harris begins walking down the ramp towards the ring, as he reaches the bottom he jumps up onto the ring apron and flips over the top rope, heading towards the turnbuckle, but Jones blocks his way.
Truth Waters: I'm guessing this is the first time tonight’s partners have met!
Speaking very quickly and gesticulating heavily, Jones appears to be asserting that Harris should leave the ring.
George Cassidy: I think Vince Jones is telling Shawn Harris that The Violence will be starting off this match the legal man, and Harris doesn’t seem to like it!
Wanting some say in the matter, Harris starts to argue back hotly as the music shuts off, and their shouted conversation begins to be audible to the nearest fans. A stern Michael Ryan heads over, but Jones casually holds him off as Jasmine continues the argument to him. At the corner of the ring, Aimz rolls her eyes at the pair before turning to Ellis Nash and flicking to her a coin that appears from nowhere. Nash grins and tosses the coin into the air, Aimz calling out loud and clear:
Aimz: HEADS!
Nash catches the coin and flips it onto her other hand, slamming it down against the back of her hand without flinching, and then sliding the hand off to peer down at the coin. Looking a touch disappointed, she shows it to Aimz, who turns away to ready herself.
Truth Waters: Aimz and Ellis Nash seem to have found a far more efficient method of settling who’s going to start the match in the ring!
Before Nash can leave the ring to move to the apron, Shawn Harris, who has watched the whole thing, strides over and taps her on the shoulder. Nash wheels round, on her guard, but when she sees Harris beckoning to the coin still in her hand and muttering a question she drops her guard and beams. Vince Jones sighs visibly and moves away to the turnbuckle to talk last-minute tactics with Jasmine.
George Cassidy: Haha! I think Shawn Harris wants to borrow a buck!
Nash holds out her palm flat, the coin within glinting against the light as Harris gratefully reaches for it – but just as he’s about to take it, Nash flicks it up into his eye. Harris wheels around, clutching his eye, and Nash immediately lays in with two right hand shots to the head.
Truth Waters: It’s never that simple with Ellis Nash!
George Cassidy: You have GOT to love that girl...
Truth Waters: Conniving...
George Cassidy: Clever...
Aimz catches on quickly, kicking Harris in the mid-section before grabbing hold of his arm. Shortly, Nash does the same, and as the bell rings for the beginning of the match the two ladies sling Shawn Harris into the turnbuckle. The New F’n Evolution hits the ringpost hard, and Aimz follows up with a running knee just as Vince Jones steams in (Jasmine has now hopped down from the apron to the floor) with a shoulder charge to knock down Ellis Nash. Michael Ryan’s yelled instructions seem to hold no sway as Aimz whirls around to catch The Violence with a heel kick to the chin just as he approaches her from behind.
Truth Waters: Chaos from the beginning here! The bell has rung and this match is underway, with all four competitors in the ring.
George Cassidy: Aimz and Ellis Nash showed some good instinctive teamwork in the dual Irish-whip.
Truth Waters: I still think they’re too similar to co-exist here, though –
George Cassidy: SIMILAR?! Ellis is ten times better. And don’t even get me started on how much prettier she is...
Truth Waters: They’ve got similar attitudes, and if they can work those together they could be unstoppable as a duo in the long term, but I have a feeling we’re going to see a constant game of one trying to outdo the other in the cool stakes.
Ellis Nash gets to her feet and storms over to her corner, rubbing the side of her face angrily.
Truth Waters: Nash doesn’t look too pleased at how hard Vince Jones hit her.
George Cassidy: Poor girl.
Truth Waters: ...I thought you were about to announce you had a nursing qualification or something.
Left in the ring with her two opponents, Aimz doesn’t panic, instead leaping up and springboarding off the second rope just as Shawn Harris extricates himself from the turnbuckle to jump into a body splash, sandwiching the Clearwater native between her own body and the ringpost!
Truth Waters: You’re not going anywhere! Good agility from Aimz with the splash across Harris’ body.
Having rolled into the centre of the ring on landing, Aimz pulls herself up to be confronted with an angry Vince Jones. Ducking his attempted right hand, Aimz shoots a furious glance at Nash, who is still seeing to her cheekbone on the apron, before shooting a high boot straight into the face of The Violence. A spinning elbow to the temple puts him out of commission.
George Cassidy: Aimz dispatching “The Violence” Vince Jones in a matter of two blows!
Spitting on the canvas, Jones gets himself back up again just as Harris is being escorted out to the apron. Aimz backtracks and reaches over the ropes to tag Ellis Nash in with a glare. Nash looks up, confused, and, registering what has happened, shoots Aimz a spiteful glance. Aimz sniffs, moving through the ropes to drop to the floor and chat to the fans, while Nash resignedly enters the ring.
Truth Waters: I'm not sure Ellis Nash knew too much about that tag, but the referee’s registered it as legal!
George Cassidy: Watch out Ellie!
A resurgent Vince Jones flattens Nash with a powerful clothesline. Flat on the mat, the former FBI agent massages her throat, still taking note of the harsh blow.
Truth Waters: ...ELLIE?!
George Cassidy: He’s gonna knock her teeth out if he keeps on like this! Bastard!
Truth Waters: Vince Jones showing us where he got his nickname.
Jones grabs Nash by the hair; protesting, she slaps at his muscular arms, but he takes no notice as he draws her up to her feet and sends her into the opposite ropes with an Irish whip. Nash hits the ropes and laces her arms around them, coming to a halt with a cocky sneer at Jones, whose head was already bowed for a back body drop. Laughing loudly at Jones, Nash sidesteps to pace around the ring, Jones mimicking the movement.
Truth Waters: She certainly enjoyed The Violence’s embarrassment there, putting on the brakes to leave him wanting. Rather like her typical response to Cassidy’s advances.
George Cassidy: I swear, if you want me to have a breakdown live on TV you’re going the right way about it.
Truth Waters: That’s the idea.
Reading perhaps too much into the huge weight advantage he has in this encounter, Jones ignores the calls for a tag from his partner for the night and lunges in to tie up with Nash. She initially accepts the grapple but then suddenly drops and goes low... very low.
Truth Waters: DIRTY PLAY!
George Cassidy: What a regions shot!
The crowd go mad at the low blow; Michael Ryan, who was situated behind Jones’ large bulk at the time and so saw nothing, can do nothing about it, and as Jones bends low, blowing out his cheeks, Nash grabs his arm and swivels into a short arm roundhouse kick. Jones topples to crash to the mat, and Nash quickly hooks the big New Yorker’s leg for the fall.
ONE!
TWO!
Jones kicks out strongly, Nash almost thrown aside by the power shift.
Truth Waters: REGIONS~! shot plus roundhouse kick equals two count.
Nash looks around to spot Aimz now back up on the apron, but with her back turned, still exchanging banter with the fans. Her eyes gleaming, she gives Jones a stiff kick in the ribs to keep him down and catches the eye of Michael Ryan as she tiptoes over towards Aimz. Ryan nods.
George Cassidy: I think we’re about to see another covert tag...
Nash reaches her arm out as if to touch it against Aimz, but then seems to change her mind and plants the heel of her hand in Aimz’ back, pushing hard. Aimz topples forward over the edge of the apron and falls to the floor, her knees taking the impact on the hard concrete!
Truth Waters: Ellis Nash just intentionally shunted her partner out of the ring!
Nash turns back to the action, but Michael Ryan is already there, ordering her out of the ring...
George Cassidy: What? He counted that as a tag!
Nash resists initially, then realises the referee’s point and laughs it off, backing away to her corner with her hands up. Jones pulls himself to his feet as Shawn Harris barks a sharp order to tag him in, while Michael Ryan starts to count Aimz out. ONE! Jones looks up, issuing a sharp glare in the direction of The New F’n Evolution, whose face is red with the effort of shouting himself hoarse at his partner. Stretching his arm out over the top rope, he again calls for the tag. TWO!
George Cassidy: Harris kinda wants in just a little.
THREE! Jones reaches his feet and moves to his corner with a swagger, casually slapping the hand of the intense Shawn Harris, who quickly climbs through the ropes. Meanwhile Ellis Nash is pulling Aimz to her feet on the outside.
Truth Waters: Nash is realising that while she got the upper hand in giving Aimz a little push, she still wants that win-loss record to look good and can’t let Aimz get them counted out!
FOUR! Nash now rolls the pale-looking Aimz into the ring; Harris immediately sprints in and with a running jump, plants his boots in her back to shunt her out of the ring; Aimz lands on the floor in a heap once more. Michael Ryan tirelessly restarts the count: ONE!
Truth Waters: Aimz is taking more than her fair share of drops to the floor tonight.
Ellis Nash, already at ringside, this time is not hesitant in pulling Aimz right back up, showing no compassion for her tag partner and rolling her right back into the ring. With Shawn Harris ready for her, he drops to the mat and pushes her head down against the canvas with one hand while wrapping his other hand around the back of her neck, combining a nerve hold with a choke. Michael Ryan isn’t happy with it, and yet again he’s calling some kind of count: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Harris breaks off, defiantly staring out at the booing crowd with pleasure on his crooked face.
Truth Waters: Shawn Harris declaring his intentions in AWC from Move Number One, and I'm not sure I like them...
George Cassidy: Not sure that Aimz does either, but whatever does the trick!
Hold on – there’s surprise on Harris’ face now, not defiance. And it’s because his tag partner is nowhere to be seen. A look around, and Vince Jones is heading up the ramp, Jasmine at his side, their backs turned.
Truth Waters: Has Vince Jones walked out on this match?!
George Cassidy: He didn’t look too impressed with Shawn Harris ordering him to tag out! And they haven’t exactly set the world alight with their relationship tonight! The Violence has had enough of this and is leaving Harris in there as punishment!
Truth Waters: Though with Aimz in this condition I don’t quite know what punishment she can give...
Harris’ eyebrows rise, as he shouts down the ramp towards Jones:
Shawn Harris: Hey! HEY!
But VJ doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn, and Harris turns back, exasperated – to find that he’s not facing a defenceless Aimz. She’s out on the apron, pulling herself up with the aid of the ropes. Instead, in his face is Ellis Nash – quite literally. Fist hits face and Harris stumbles back.
Truth Waters: These ladies are too damn quick for Shawn Harris!
George Cassidy: What? What’s going on?
Truth Waters: ...and for George Cassidy.
George Cassidy: THAT ISN’T A SENTENCE!
An immaculate sunset flip later, Ellis Nash is looking for the 1-2-3:
ONE!
TWO!
Harris kicks out.
George Cassidy: SUNSET FLIP and the... kickout. Darn it.
Truth Waters: The New Evolution isn’t going down just like that!
George Cassidy: The New F’n Evolution, Truth.
Truth Waters: Do excuse my inadequacy.
George Cassidy: ...No.
A bit frustrated – she’s chipped a fingernail – Nash bounds over to her corner, where like it or not Aimz has to tag in, but this time Aimz actually wants it, a look of determination on her face as she steps into the ring with a defiant nod. She and Ellis pull Harris to his feet and a twin Irish whip later, he’s headed off the ropes. A subtle word is all that’s needed and then simultaneous jumps from Nash and Aimz ground Harris, the dropkicks to his knees like bullets taking out his legs as he pitches forward. Nash jumps back up and goes out to the apron before she has to be told, while Aimz wraps an arm around Harris’ head and hits a single-arm DDT.
Truth Waters: There’s a spark of understanding between these two when they want there to be, and now a DDT from Aimz – yes, an actual wrestling move – has Shawn Harris down, as he rolls onto his back –
Waters breaks off as there’s a loud cheer from the fans.
George Cassidy: Aimz heading to the top rope!
She leaps up to the top turnbuckle – who needs the middle and bottom ones anyway? – and a moment later springs off with the devastating 450 splash that she calls...
Truth Waters: DEAD AIM!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
George Cassidy: That’s it! Dead Aim and Harris takes the hit! Abandoned by his partner and at the mercy of Aimz and Ellis Nash, the outspoken newcomer does the job in his first main event match!
Truth Waters: The New F’n Evolution never really had the chance to get going in this fast-paced and slightly brief match, punctuated by disagreements within both duos, but it’s AWC’s females who take the win!
Aimz takes off at once, not staying to talk to Ellis Nash at all, and so it’s only Nash’s arm that gets raised by ring announcer James Brunt.
James Brunt: The winners... AIMZ and ELLIS NASH!
We Don't Care What People Say
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND MIKE WADE
Mike Wade: What. The. Fuck. ?
Shuffling through a rather large pile of fan-mail on his office-desk, Mike rummages across many sights; most of them largely disturbing.
Mike Wade: I knew the females loved me, but HONESTLY. WHAT THE FUCK?!!?
Something obviously is bothering him. The Wadester unable to shake that pale look of having just seen a ghost from his face, he is in need of some dire pick-me-ups to get out of this situation.
*burst through the door*
Adam Dick: HAVE I GOT A SURPRISE FOR YOU!
Mike Wade: Dude, my fans have issues.
Adam Dick: Fuck your fans; THIS is what’s important.
Adam shoves off all the documents on top of Mike’s desk, probably for his own good, and props down Tim Shipley’s Mystery Prize; the Blue Briefcase.
Mike Wade: Is that what I think it is?
Adam Dick: It is.
Mike Wade: Where did you find this?
Adam Dick: Pearl’s office.
Mike Wade: You stole it?
Adam Dick: WHAT THE FUCK? What do you think I am?
Mike Wade: Do you want me to answer that?
Adam Dick: Why would you ask me that?! OF COURSE I FUCKING STOLE IT.
Mike Wade: OK dude. Let’s just open it.
Adam Dick: That’s sort of why I brought it to you.
Mike Wade: You mean you don’t have a key?
Adam shrugs. Mike slaps his forehead.
Adam Dick: You’re Irish! You’re supposed to have that magic gift that allows you to crack any lock, right?
Mike Wade: Face, what the fuck are you talkin’…Wait a second.
Adam Dick: What?
Mike Wade: Irish… magic… I know just the man.
Adam Dick: WHO?? Michael Flatley?
Mike Wade: No not Michael Flatley he's not magic!
Adam Dick: Dude his legs move at an unrivalled pace.
Mike turns around to his locker. He kicks it open to reveal his midget, leprechaun manager stuffed inside, it's Mickey Moore!
Mickey Moore: Mike laddie. There why are ya disturbin’ me owld sleep?
Mike Wade: Because Mickey, finally after having your midget arse hanging around with me for the last 10 years I finally found a use for ya.
Mickey Moore: Jaysus laddie. But I always thought ya said I was a useless little sack o’ shite?
Mike Wade: I may have been wrong. Blow here -
Mike points at the lock on the briefcase.
Adam Dick: What's this about?
Mike Wade: Dude every self respecting Irishman knows that a leprechaun’s blow opens any lock.
With that said we hear a click. The lock is open.
Adam Dick: I loves it!
Mike pops open the briefcase. Immediately, the gold shining effect that you see in movies like Pulp Fiction begins to glow from Mikey’s face.
Mike Wade: Is that... what I think -
Adam Dick: It is.
Mike Wade: Should we -
Adam Dick: Wait ‘til next week?
Adam slams the case shut, almost taking off Wade’s fingers.
Adam Dick: Yes. Let’s wait until next week.