Monday Nae Trous
Monday Nae Trous - Amateur Nite

Er...this page best viewed when using Netscape? I think I'm using Netscape-defined colours.
 (The hokey rock theme music begins to start the show, and shots of various superstars in action. Half of them no longer work for the company. And look, you can see the late Ken Thompson. The intro ends. Pan interior of the Slobberknocker Arena. The pyro guys with sparklers and flare guns show their stuff. Violent Vinnie Mansbridge is sitting in the front row, looking apathetic, with a sign in front of him reading "Won't be long now!".)
Hello everyone, and WELCOME to Monday Nae Trous! I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden, along with Jamal Tupac Mustafa. And WE'RE NOT WEARING PANTS!
Thazz right m'brutha, an' I gots a whole new attitude wit' accent t'match!
Totally experimental, I hope?
Ya neva know.
Whatever. Well, we've got a spectacular showcase of rookies tonight! And this won't even cover everybody! What better way to start than with a couple of guys who made the entrances at the Bunkhouse 'Blivion Brawl by adding insult to BILL's injury. They're the Ambulance Jockeys!
This tag team contest is set for one fall. Making their way to the ring, accompanied by Nurse Heidi, and with a total combined weight of 475 lbs., here are Garry "the Gurney" Greene and Barry "the Backboard" Brown, THE AMBULANCE JOCKEYS!
(The theme song from E.R. plays as the men and woman enter. Some boos as signs go up reading "I like BILL" and "BILL is Nifty".)
Dose signs are as wack as BILL is.
Hey! I happen to like him. But who are they fighting? Here comes the Right Hand Man.
RHM: Once again, it looks like matters must fall into my more-than-capable hands. The Ambulance Jockeys challenged the Rogue and he never responded. They weren't asking much, they just wanted some gravy (for some unknown reason). I find their stipulations not unreasonable, and it is thus that they will make their debut against none other than the Aboriginals!
(The native chants are cued up. The Aboriginals look sufficiently dazed tonight.)
***bell rings.
Oh, boy, this should be fun. Looks like the Jockeys will be getting that gravy they want after all. It's Garry Greene starting off with Aboriginal 1. Garry with a big right hand. Garry with a spinwheel kick sending A1 to the mat.
He could pin 'im now!
But why would he? Garry tries anyway: 1...2...he pulls up A1. Big DDT by Garry, and the tag to Barry is made. Both men execute a double vertical suplex on A1.
Watchoo think, A2 gonna see action tanite?
I wouldn't care if he did. Barry whips A1 to the ropes and puts the boots to him. A1 drops. Another quick tag, and both men travelling to the opposite corners of the high-rent district! OHHHH! Look at those diving headbutts. The Mass Casualty has been applied, and there's the 1...2...3. No big surprise here, the Aboriginals lose.
But lookit dis. Dey beatin' on A2 some too.
Ah well, he's getting paid for the appearance anyway. Might as well give him a bump or two for good measure.
Don't t'ink the Rogue's gonna see it like dat.
 The Rogue giving an interview segment later tonight, we'll see. I think the Aboriginals aren't going to be the first thing on his mind.
Let's take you now to a double-debut match: Charlie's own Viet Kong of the Angels of Death will battle none other than Necro Phil, the lecherous coroner.
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way to the ring first, from Hoi Phong, Vietnam, accompanied to the ring by "Charlie", and weighing in at 345 lbs., VIET KONG!
(The Charlie's Angels theme by Vietallica plays. Viet Kong looks like somebody compacted Giant Gonzalez into a 6'8" frame. Except of course, for seven fingers on each hand. The crowd gapes in awe.)
And his opponent, from Newark, New Jersey, weighing 238 lbs., and accompanied by Dr. Sillaconne M. Plants, here is the lecherous coroner, NECRO PHIL!
("Last Dance with Mary Jane" by Tom Petty plays. Necro Phil enters in a green surgical outfit that stinks of fermaldehyde. He has wild hair and sunken eyes. The crowd would gape, but their mouths are already at full extension.)
I don't know who's freakier!
Nevertheless, we've got to do this match.
***bell rings.
Kong and Phil in a tie-up. Viet Kong wins this one easy. Phil's shoulders actually touch the mat! 1...2...Phil rolls off. Whew! That could have been a quick one.
Yo' lesson fo' today: Don't tie-up wit' someone wit' 14 fingers.
Point well taken! Phil with a drop toehold. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Kong lets out a guttural yell as a spinning toehold is applied.
Y'know, I gots ta see Viet Kong `n' Sasquatch in da same ring.
That would be an incredible match.
Match? Yeah, I guess tha'd be coo'.
But then...better not ask, I'm afraid of the answer. Viet Kong kicks Phil away and both men are up. Phil puts on a waistlock. Viet Kong takes him down over his hairy shoulder. Kong with a legdrop. Look at the size of that drumstick.
Man, I went to KFC my damn self befo' the show, so quit eyein' my grub!
Sorry. NO FOOD IN THE ANNOUNCERS' BOOTH! You want to damage the equipment? Viet Kong with a scoop slam. Necro Phil is in trouble. Kong makes a cover: 1...2...Necro Phil pokes him in the eyes! He's up now, clothesline! Viet Kong gets up, another clothesline by Phil! Kong up one last time, ducks the clothesline attempt and locks on a full nelson! Necro Phil is struggling to escape, but it's going to be damned difficult with 14 fingers there. Phil is struggling. The ref is asking him if he submits. Necro Phil complies!
Here is your winner, VIET KONG!
There's Dr. Plants. He smacks Viet Kong with a chair! And both of them make a hasty retreat.
I don't blame them. Besides, did you see the way Viet Kong just shrugged it off? Amazin'.
Okay! Here's a match that should get this lacklustre audience jumping. Tony "the Mobster" Bascere will square off, in his DEBUT mind, against douja!
Which'n reminds me, where's the Cap?
I think he's in the back getting ready for a Twilight Zone segment. And yes, our own Cap has been helping douja gain his abilities back.
He had some ta begin with?
Possibly; I just said that to cover all my bases. But will the experienced and repackaged douja prevail, or will our rookie friend pull off an unbelievable upset?
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way to the ring, accompanied by "The Don", from New York City and weighing 315 lbs., here is TONY "THE MOBSTER" BASCERE!
("Speak Softly Love" plays as the men enter. Tony has his eyes on the ring and nothing else. From his slick hair to his "MOM" tattoo to his Iroc keyring on his beltloop, he's stereotypically Italian.)
And his opponent, accompanied to the ring by Captain Twilight, and quite possibly a member of the Old Boys' Network now (my cards haven't been updated yet! Can we get this fixed already?), er...weighing 245 lbs., here is douja!
("Just Dropped In", a popular anti-drug song, plays. Cheers for douja.)
I'm proud of him. He's finally got his act together.
***bell rings.
douja starts things off with a dropkick. Tony staggers. douja follows up with a double-underhook suplex. Captain Twilight is looking pleased, and the Don is looking more than a little nervous.
Naw, I t'ink all dat sweat is 'cause o' his weight prob'm an' the hot lights.
Careful, there, I'm sure he's got connections that can put you out of a job. "Black" Jack Dealer is still free, I hear.
I'll keep it shut.
Wise move. douja really gaining the offensive. He picks him up for a vertical suplex...can't quite get that momentum...Tony settles back down and douja goes for the ride. douja pulled up by his newly-styled hair, and he takes a kneelift right in the mouth. Tony advances further on douja, and puts douja's neck on the middle rope. He bounces off the other one, and bam! douja is getting a nice choke.
I guess bein' re-packaged ain't always what it's cracked up ta be.
There's still time. douja is taken off the ropes and the cover is made. 1...2...douja bridges out of the pin. douja with a hurricanrana! Captain Twilight is jumping for joy! 1...2...Tony with the shoulder up. douja with a flying forearm. It doesn't budge the Mobster. douja tries it again, and Tony goes down hard. douja to the top rope...what's he going to do? 450 splash! This could be it! 1...2...oh, so close. The audience groaned at that one. douja makes the signal for it...could we see the Chronic Neck Pain? The Mobster is upside-down and ready to receive a piledriver. But wait, douja just dropped Tony and went over to the ropes. He's talking to "the Don", but why?
Does da Don have what I thinks he's got in his hand?
There's that ominous smell...it is! douja is being tempted by "the Don". Tony Bascere turns douja around. He kicks him in the stomach. Piledriver executed faster than I've ever seen it done.
He could hurt somebody like dat if'n he ain't careful.
The whole point of the piledriver is to injure. The cover: 1...2...3! Tony takes the win over a distracted douja. Some words of encouragement being passed over by Captain Twilight as douja makes his way back to the locker room. He's getting in the ring now...I think it's time for the Twilight Zone!
Hello fans, and welcome to a little interview segment I like to call the Twilight Zone. With me, Captain Twilight! Tonight, I have a very special guest. After a contest where 74 men fell, this man emerged as the first-ever Intergalactic Champion. Please welcome, THE TIGER!
("Intergalactic" by the Beastie Boys plays as the Tiger brings his belt adorned with stars and planets...on what's now the inside, while what was previously the inside is now displayed with a large IC logo on the front. Got that? Good.)
Well, Tiger, you certainly pulled a major coup by being the first Intergalactic Champion, perhaps anywhere! So many questions. How do you feel? Would you like to dedicate your win to anyone? What are you going to do now?
The Tiger: You're right. That IS a lot of questions. Let me ask you a question. What's that smell? (sniff,sniff) Oh, it must be me, 'cause I'm the sh*t!
(stunned looks from audience)
Boy, I don't think I've ever heard profanity from the Tiger before.
He useta be a football player, they cain't ALL be scholars.
The Tiger: Quiet, you two. As I was saying, I feel great! I'd like to dedicate my win to my loving parents, the rest of the Inner Circle, and the good people at Frank's Pizza in Lexington, VA. We did it, Giuseppe! As for the future, I am going to finish this interview.
(pause)
Then, I may jump ship to the GWA, and dump the belt in a trashcan on TV. Yeah, right. Who the hell is Oliver Copp? TNM? Give me a break!
(quizzical look appears on the Captain's face. He moves on.)
Bohemoth and Homicidal Hank are going to be gunning for you in short order, but there are going to be other contenders eventually. Who would you like to see in contendership?
The Tiger: Both of those guys are great. I intend on being a fighting champion, and defending my belt whenever called upon to do so. As far as other guys in the contendership, well, it just wouldn't be a contendership if Prisoner X wasn't included. Also, Luke Warm has a LOT of potential. He's a definite Intergalactic contender.
You think? Don't answer that.
Do you have any comments to all the great fans out there? Speech! Speech!
The Tiger: Hey, it goes without saying that I couldn't have won this belt without the support of all of the IC's fans. Thanks to them, and I would especially like to thank the BBB dice for rolling the way they did.
(the quizzical look returns once more)
Well, uh, I'm sure that, er, they're appreciative of that. Finally, I just gotta ask you. That's one great looking belt. Can I touch it?
What a mark!
Beg pardon?
The Tiger:Here, try it on for size, old fella.
(Captain Twilight puts the belt around his smaller frame. He raises his arms and the crowd gives a pity-pop. A few flashbulbs go off.)
Thanks. Gives me memories of the old days. You're a real gentleman, and young though you might be, there's always room for you in the Old Boys' Network. Folks, that's it. I'm Captain Twilight, on with the rest of the show!
Now that THAT'S out of the way, perhaps we can get some actual wrestling done for a change.
(Rogue's Gallery theme music is cued)
Y'all had to go and say a damn fool thing like that.
Can I sit in? I'm free now.
Sure thing. Too bad you entered during the Rogue's spiel. What do you think he's going to gab about today Captain?
I dunno. Maybe he's gonna hype the upcoming fight between Col. Khorne and Sgt. Genocide? Or maybe try to give Très Sheik a push?
Well he looks liked he's packed on a couple of pounds.
An unlimited supply of powdered gravy will do that to ya.
Mister Numero Uno's in da house! If I wasn't so beautiful and you weren't so ugly I might actually shake your hand!
(fans boo incessantly. One fan, who bears an uncanny resemblance to the late Dick York, takes off his Can-Am Connection t-shirt, places an STWF-endorsed replica brick inside and hurls it towards the ring, striking the Rogue. Luckily for the Rogue (and unluckily for the fans), the brick, like most STWF merchandise, is of extremely poor quality, and the brick disintegrates into dust.)
Hey, ignoramus!!! Is that any way to treat me on my birthday?
(more boos. One fan's holding a sign that reads "Where are the Indestructibles?")
That's right folks. This Monday, January 11, is...well, by now, WAS, Mister Numero Uno's birthday. Now I can't spend too much time out here because it is my birthday, and as you all know, when you're Number One, there's so much to get done, but I just want to show all you rejects the lovely gifts that "Billionaire" Fred Meatnsaucy and the Gallery have bestowed on me today. The Aboriginals got me this lovely empty glue bottle. Col. Khorne gave this wonderful bag of popcorn with a bit of salt and a little garlic -- just how I like it. The Rhythm and Blues Express got me this practical little mirror that they claim Rick James actually snorted coke off of! Très Sheik bought me this rather extravagant Nehru smoking jacket that actually lights my cigarettes for me! And Fred Meatnsaucy got me just about the Most special present a manager can get...... NEW WRESTLERS! That's right, baby! Meatnsaucy University just sent off its first two graduates and Fred has presented them to me as a birthday present, ready to grapple! Let me introduce the first. At 5'11" and 347lbs, from Anchorage Alaska, CRUDE OIL.
("greased lightnin'" by John Travolta plays. A dirty fat man with greased hair walks out wearing what appears to be overalls under all that filth)
See this man? He hates all of you! Crude was a simple Alaskan boy. Not very well educated, and not very polite, but simple.
I thought "simple" already implied "not well educated".
The man in the kilt will be quiet! Anyway, one day he decided to go fishing in the North Pacific in his small boat when the Exxon Valdez blew open. He was coated with oil. Alas the rescue teams did not save him (they were too busy looking for cute little seapups). After a month of forcing his way through the sludge, he finally reached the shore, but he was now too greasy and filthy to totally clean. He gained a strong bitterness for all of society, and that includes fans and wrestlers of the STWF. The only people he can confide in is myself and the Gallery members because he knows that we won't desert him like you people did!
(boos galore)
What is it with Gallery-ites and abandonment?
AHEM!
And my second birthday present, the next STWF Elite Dwarf Champion: from Grenoble, France... Little Andre!!
(a very large man walks out wearing blue trunks and boots, and sporting an afro)
Next Dwarf champion?!?! That man is well over 6 feet!
Maybe the Rogue's gone senile in my old age!
That's right Pee Wee Rrrico! Shake in your boots, because tonight, I've booked you to a title match against my new 6'9" 472lb French monster!
That match can't be sanctioned! Andre's by no means a dwarf!
Lessee what the Right Hand Man has to say about all dis. Here he comes now.
RHM: Rogue, what do you mean this match is signed? First off, Andre does not fit the size requirement of a dwarf wrestler, and secondly I didn't approve this match!
First off, I argue that my Little Andre fits the prerequesite of a dwarf wrestler because, like a great percentage of other dwarf wrestlers, he is a smaller incarnation of an already popular star. Like Dink was with Doink, and little T was with Mister T, Little Andre is a miniturized replica of Andre the Giant.
Secondly, I don't need your approval. A little coaxing by "Billionaire" Fred and Der Kommissaar gave us the green light! So I guess you can get lost now! Go on! Shoo!
(RHM, disgusted leaves.)
Ah, ain't life Grand? Happy Birthday to me! Just goes to show that We are the Power, Baby, 'cause we RULE the WORLD!!! HA-LA!!! So Pee Wee, get your tiny butt out here now, and we'll see who the real Dwarf is.
(Pee Wee enters, notably scared.)
***bell rings.
Andre whipping Pee Wee RRRico from post to post. And there's an avalanche! That poor little midget is getting the beating of his life! And there's a powerbomb from Little Andre! Wait, there's more...he's not going for a top-rope splash?
Oh, I can't bear to watch!
*SQUELCH*
The cover: 1.....2.....3! This is pathetic. Of course this big guy beats RRRico. What this will do for the Elite Dwarf belt I don't know. Well, we still have to move on. Col. Khorne is in the ring, and we're awaiting Sgt. Genocide.
Yeah, that's right! Bring him on, I outrank him, and I'm going to demolish him. After that, I'll take that match against Sack and the Glutton, and become that Intergalactic Contender! And who'll stop me? Nobody! Now, my Gallery-ites, I want to prove that I can do this alone. Would you mind heading back?
And his opponent, from Kiev, Ukraine, weighing in at 340 lbs., SERGEANT GENOCIDE!
("Extermination Blues" by Robin Trower plays. Sgt. Genocide has military pants and a beret on. How innovative.)
***bell rings.
Genocide wastes absolutely no time. European uppercuts by the Sarge. And some elbows. Now continuing the arm trend, there's a shoulderblock. Colonel Khorne is looking somewhat sorry in there, I must say.
Let's hope he fares better in the three-way on the Golden Anniversary of Monday Nae Trous.
Why? I want Sack to win dat.
I think we ALL do. Colonel tries to hit Genocide, but Genocide blocks and lands a punch square in Khorne's jaw. Genocide looking over the fallen Khorne and laughing. A standing legdrop by the Sergeant. And another one! Third time's the charm...oh, that one was an elbowdrop! Nice change-up.
I guess that sergeants and colonels have different rating systems between here and the Ukraine.
Well, the lower-ranked sergeant is certainly showing his stripes here. Sergeant Genocide picks up "Pops" by the ears - ouch! - and there's a brain buster!
The Colonel cain't use his secret recipe to get outta dis one.
(pause)
What the hell was THAT supposed to mean?
Do we really want to hear that answer?
No, I guess not. Sgt. Genocide is signalling for his finisher - the Exterminator! Khorne is bounced off the ropes. Genocide off the other one. Flying headbutt! Khorne is in la-la land.
Man, we ain't in Los Angeles!
We could have you ejected for comments like that.
Sgt. Genocide about to do a cover with his feet...but here comes the Gallery to the rescue! Crude Oil and Little Andre are in tow as well.
It figures.
They're encircling Genocide. The ref is calling for the bell. It's obvious who would have won, though.
Now Sarge, we've just seen what you can do. If you can take down someone as skilled as the Colonel so effectively, you're obviously superior to the rest of these morons in the STWF. Just like us!
(Genocide lifts one side of his unibrow in a questioning look)
Now, before the useless Hubcap Gang and those hicks in Marshall Law get to it, I'd like to offer you a place in my Gallery. And heck, if you accept, I'll give you the Colonel's spot in the three-way for Intergalactic contendership next week on Monday Nae Trous!
Hey!
Hold up, I've got him interested. Think about it, Sarge. You, in contendership for the Intergalactic Belt. What better way to say you've done your cleaning than with gold around your waist? Whattaya say?
Sgt. Genocide: You can give me this chance? This is not something the sycophants in the suits and the cowboys did not offer me. For no other reason than earning this shot, I accept. Afterwards? I do not know.
Good enough for me! Sign here, and here, initial here, just skim over this 60% commission bit and this part where it says "6-year deal", and finally, sign right here at the bottom. Excellent. Welcome to the club. Ha-LA!
How nice to see the Rogue is in good spirits again. Well, we've only got one more match, and after all this, it's somewhat anti-climactic.
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way to the ring first, accompanied by the Redeemer, and weighing 255 lbs., from Connecticut, Ohio, here is VYRUS!
("Lithium" by Nirvana plays. Vyrus walks to the ring slowly and without lifting his feet off the ground. The Redeemer walks close behind, flaunting the $1000 he earned for eliminating Bill Murtough.)
And his opponent, from Moosebutt, British Columbia, weighing in at 241 lbs., CLAUDE "LIGHTNING FINGERS" LEROUX!
(Claude enters, playing "O Canada" on his accordion. Some Canadian flags come up out of nowhere, and he shakes a few of their hands. He pauses to straighten the lanyard on his Red Serge before entering the ring.)
***bell rings.
Claude extends a hand of friendship towards Vyrus. Vyrus stares blankly at him, much like he's been doing with everything lately.
Y'all don't think he fell in wit' d'Aboriginals, do ya?
Despite the similar characteristics, I'll say no.
Claude shrugs and starts with a martial-arts kick. Vyrus flinches but doesn't move. Claude looks surprised. Vyrus charges with arms wide. Claude grabs an arm and moves into a hammerlock. He now switches it up into a chickenwing! No, wait, a sleeperhold!
Make up yo' mind!
Sleeperhold? That can only work if your opponent's awake. I'm not sure if Vyrus is.
Leroux backs off and gives Vyrus a German suplex. The cover: 1...2...Vyrus kicks out. Vyrus slowly gets up and shambles toward the RCMP officer, swinging wildly. One connects, and Claude Leroux touches his lips to see if there's blood. There isn't. Lucky for Vyrus, I guess.
Heard any good Canadian jokes lately?
Go ask your buddy Tyrone.
I'd say the Canadian dollar is a good Canadian joke. For Americans, anyway. And have you seen this stupid two-dollar coin? Two metals! I can pop the inside out of the coin!
That coin's been around for almost three years, where have YOU been?
Sorrrrr-eeee. Lightning Fingers with an enzuigiri. And a belly-to-belly.
Why isn't the Redeemer doing anything?
He looks too preoccupied with that money. You'd think he won a million the way he's acting. Claude is going for the Maple Leaf, his signature maneuver! Look at the way he wraps up Vyrus' legs. Vyrus doesn't look fazed. He doesn't even look conscious.
Neva did.
The ref is taking this as Vyrus being passed out.
Here is your winner, CLAUDE "LIGHTNING FINGERS" LEROUX!
And there he goes, playing a victory polka. Well, that's it for Amateur Nite. On Friday Friday Friday, you'll see Silaconne M. Plants in action against Dr. Snare in the "battle of the medics"! Mittens will be in action, against Sir Hungalot; Homicidal Hank will be here, and he'll be battling "sort-of-drug-free" douja. Can douja snag an IG contendership spot from under Hank 19:50's nose? And of course, in our main event, it's Bohemoth and Bill Murtough vs. Napalm and Agent Orange who are known as Chemical Warfare. This should be one for the record books. Until then, for Jamal Tupac Mustafa and Captain Twilight, I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden saying, Keep your pants off!
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre