Monday Nae Trous
Monday Nae Trous - booyeah. Boy-eee.

(Pan interior of the Slobberknocker Arena. A lot of stuff is going to go down tonight, but you didn't hear it from me.)
Welcome everyone to yet another ratings-killing episode of Monday...Nae...Trous! I'm here in this silver-scaffolding booth that we found lying around somewhere, along with Captain Twilight and Jamal Tupac Mustafa.
Hey Vince, shouldn't we be close to the action? Or at the very least, FACING it?
Good point. No wonder this was rejected. Let's head to our normal spots, gents. (pause)
Okay, and here we are, ready to go. First up is Soem Guy in a Mask. He'll be facing Big Baby Hubert tonight.
(The Kamera Kid is backstage. A mob of STWF superstars and subsuperstars are huddled over a monitor.)
ThatGuy: Okay, folks, you know the plan. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!
Necro Phil: We'll teach that masked guy to speak like an idiot in HIS interviews. Or my name isn't Necro Phil, isn't that right, Helena? Yes it is.
Tyrone Mayhem: I'm wit' y'all, yo.
Sugarplum Harry: There he is! Let's go! Move, move, move, move....
Well, here comes Soem Guy now, to some big-booty boos. But hey, check it. They's some group comin' after him!
Indeed, they're lynching Soem Guy in a Mask! Apparently, they're not too happy about the direction his gimmick was going, and in a trademark break of the rules, they're doing an intervention...STWF-style.
That's exactly right. They've pinned him down and they're beating him. Soem Guy is taking the blows remarkably well for someone who interviews SO badly.
ThatGuy is holding them off....he's making the "mask-removal" gesture! They all step back. ThatGuy is about to ruin Soem Guy in a Mask's entire masked-man bit! This can't be good for his career.
Not at all. He could be on the verge of a booting from the Ivory Tower.
They're takin' off the mask! It's that insane guy who owns the haunted amusement park! And he'd have gotten away wit' it too, if it weren't fo' dose meddlin' kids. (Jamal is quickly silenced with a blackjack)
No! It's...it's...
Anarchy? Good Lord, that's going back a ways.
You're telling me. He hasn't done much of anything since SUPERCARD III.
Anarchy: That's right, you bloody twits! Do you Yanks honestly think that someone with such an idiotic gimmick would actually be viable, especially when he's masked! Couldn't you think that far?
Organ Grinder: Well excuse us for living. It was the whole Toilet Duck factor that threw us off. We just wanted to send a message.
Anarchy: Well you sent one. Now here's one for you! Anarchy is back. Pardon me a monment. (pulls a pink doughnut out of his trunks and starts eating it. Pink icing sugar descends lightly to the mat.) You'd all best be right frightened now, because you ruined the big surprise for SUPERCARD IV! Death, Mason, you two will meet up not with some moron in a mask, but this federation's first North American champ, the first winner of the Bunkhouse 'Blivion Brawl, and one mean <-BLEEP->. Now sod off, all of you, I have a match to win.
Anarchy doesn't seem too happy at the treatment he just received.
Would YOU be if it happened to y'all?
No, I suppose not. Well, here comes Big Baby Hubert and Irving Goldstein now. THEY oughta take Anarchy down a peg or two.
I'm sorry, there's just something very disturbing about a senior citizen in a diaper.
What's so disturbing about it? I don't follow you, Vince.
I could spell dis one out, but I ain't gonna.
I've decided I don't want to know.
***bell rings.
Okay, it's the veteran Anarchy against the newcomer Big Baby Hubert. Anarchy lunges at Hubert. European uppercut by Anarchy. Hubert with an elbow and pushes Anarchy down. BBH bounces off the ropes, going for a standing backsplash, but Anarchy rolls out of the way.
That ring rust is bound to show up sooner or later.
Fo' Hubert's sake it betta.
Anarchy with a Russian legsweep. He makes the cover: 1...kickout on 2. Hubert gets up. Big chop by Hubert.
Whoo!
And another one!
Whoo!
And there's a side headlock by Big Baby Hubert.
Whoo! (Captain Twilight is quickly silenced with a blackjack)
Give me that blackjack. Enough foolishness, both of you. CHILDREN! And I can't kick you out because Colonel Khorne is likely to show up.
Are you accepting that challenge? Khorne wants to fight you for SUPERCARD.
But I've never wrestled before, and Col. Khorne is a former ICCTINACBBIC champ! Something I really need to think about some more. Hubert just levelled Anarchy with a big right hand! 1...2...no. Anarchy is up, he looks furious! Spinebuster slam on the big, disgusting lug that is Hubert.
Don't insult my stablemates. You're the one who's too chicken to face a Gallery-ite.
Trust me, man. They all talk. 'memba when I beat Crude Oil? Can we see that again, Chet? ... Whattaya mean, "no"? B<-BLEEP->ch.
Irving Goldstein is looking worried. Hubert isn't faring nearly as well as he thought, it appears.
Hubert just needs time. You can't expect him to beat an Anarchy-level competitor on his first try.
Irving has the lead-filled rubber duck! He's scrambling up on the apron, but he can't seem to heave his ancient self up there! He's breathing heavily and still trying. Anarchy meanwhile has BBH upside-down in a corner and is kicking the daylights out of the Baby.
Come on, Irving, it's not that hard! Use the stairs if you must.
Irving: Oy! The stairs, why didn't I think of that.
It may be too little, too late. Because here comes Pañales with a bottle of Corona! He smashes it over Irving's head and lays him out.
Oh, that's it! He's made life-long enemies of the GOB. For what's LEFT of HIS life.
Y'all sho' are vindictive. Cain't you be like the Hubcap Gang? Just chillin' and takin' on da Gallery when ya can?
Anarchy is going to the top rope for his finisher...er...what's it called?
Quick! Check the archives!
We have archives?
I barely remember yesterday, let alone last year.
I suppose it's not important, what IS important is that Hubert just took a top-rope piledriver and bounced once. Ouch. Anarchy hooks the leg. 1...2...3! Anarchy victorious in his return.
Technically, his return was as Soem Guy in a Mask.
Quiet, you. There's nothing "technical" about the STWF.
VO by Chet: Hey!
VO by Vic: Yeah, what's up with that?
Pyro Guy #2: I'd have to agree with you there, Vince.
Well, one out of three, I'll take that. Up next, you'll see the Reno Brothers, in action, as they face the deadly tag team duo of the Homeboyz.
Gallery-ites! Now you can answer Khorne's challenge.
Not bloody likely.
(Rogue's Gallery theme music plays. The Gallery, accompanied by the ROGUE and Fred Meatnsaucy, are coming to the ring. They're all there: the Aboriginals, the Homeboyz, "Crude" Oil, Khorne, Sheik, Genocide and the newest Gallery-ite douja. douja's walking arm-in-arm with the Rogue down to the ring. Sheik is trailing behind the group with a look of disgust on his face.
Boy. The Rogue and douja sure look tight.
Twilight: Man, couldn't you use another word?
No, I couldn't.
Man, stop sitting so close to me!
What's YOUR problem, Captain?
I have no desire to be "tight" with you.
V? You hidin' sumpin' from us?
Oh, you're being preposterous! Quit casting aspersions on me.
I always wondered why you got that autographed Marv Albert picture in your trailer!
Did y'all have anythin' ta do wit' da signing of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell"?
Forget that, both of you! The Rogue has the Mic!
Hey all you losers! Mister Numero Uno's IN DA HOUSE!!! Don't you wish you were me?!? HA-LA!!!
(boos)
Listen, I'm not going to talk very long, because when you're number One, there's so much to get done!!
Douja: We're Numba One! We're Numba One! I love you man!
Thanks, douj' ol' buddy! Well, as I was saying, I have to talk about something right now. I gotta deal with a bit of animosity brewing with my boys. I have come to the realization that someone in the Gallery is unhappy with me, and has been talking behind my back. I hear that this guy has been bitching since IceJam because I let in this guy, my main man, douja! I hear that this guy says he's going to make me sorry for this move. I hear this guy's named Très Sheik!
(mix of cheers and boos; odd for an "elite heel" Gallery-ite. The entire Gallery turns around to face Sheik)
Now Sheik, I hear you got a problem with me signing douja. Well let me tell you this, Exorbitant Arab! You may have beat douja's butt in the past, but he's beaten yours too! douja's the guy who defended the Gallery against Tiger and Behemoth; not YOU, Sheik. douja's the guy who eats, sleeps, and breathes the Gallery. You're too concerned about yourself to stick up for the rest of us! Well, Sheik, when you're in the Gallery, the Gallery's interest is paramount, not the individual! And when you're a Gallery-ite, your <-BLEEP->s is ruled by me! And your <-BLEEP->s is paid by Fred Meatnsaucy! You do as I say, when I say it, and you don't DARE question my decisions! I am the only reason you've ever achieved anything in this fed! Don't ever question my authority, or the scruples of a fellow Gallery-ite! No wrestler in this Gallery is bigger than the group! Want proof? Look at Little Andre for example. He was a Gallery-ite with a championship belt. He was the STWF Elite Dwarf Champ. He was undefeated! He was at the pinnacle of his career. But he owed this all to the Gallery and me! He was nothing without the Gallery! But he wasn't bigger than the group. So we dumped him and put that belt in the trash compactor. You think we can't do the same with YOU?
(boos)
He was expendable. So are you. If you want any success in your career, you'll tow the line from now on. We're the Power, Baby, 'cause WE RULE the WORLD!! HA-LA!! And you ain't nothing.
Look at Très Sheik! He's beet red! He looks like that guy in Scanners just before his head blows up.
And one more thing. douja, the scale, if you will.
douja: Here it is, boss..huh huh..
Right. Hubcap Gang, get out here and bring your overweight champion with you!
Now lookahere, Luke Warm ain't overweight! Sho', he might have a bit o' love handle and no neck, but...
I'm talking about the Mushmind, that outsider Flanagan! Come on RHM, I saw you in the locker room, probably looking for Rich the Gay Bartender. Well he's not here tonight, and we're calling you out!
("Proud Mary" by CCR plays and out emerge the Hubcap Gang. It's B.F. Sack! Luke Warm! Flash "the Mastermind" Flanagan! Claude Leroux! StreetMime! The Right Hand Man! Big pops for them all. The Gallery is covering their ears.)
RHM: What's all this then, Rogue? What scheme have you cooked up this time to screw around with us?
For once, I'm following the rules that YOU turned a blind eye to in your wish to gain more power. Sure you have a blue-chipper there holding the ICCTINACBBIC strap, but as you well know our lax rules on that belt put a 250-lb. weight limit on it. It should be lower technically, but my successful lobbying kept Col. Khorne here in the rankings. Ha-LA! So let's put your so-called Mastermind on the scale and see where it gets us.
The Mastermind: Is this true, boss?
RHM: Unfortunately, yeah. But I wouldn't have brought it up if you were part of our group. Had you stayed with the GOB I'd have brought out the scale myself, because we have to keep order here.
And if you HADN'T joined the Hubcappers, I wouldn't have said anything. But you did, and here we are. Ha-LA! So I guess you were damned either way. You. Scale. NOW!
The Mastermind: Whatever. (gets on the scale)
Scale: BING! You weigh...two..hundred...seventy...five...pounds. BING! Your lucky numbers are... 3... and... 14. Have a nice day! BING!
RHM: Sorry, Flash. The scale has spoken. But look at it this way, you're still a face....
Flash: Yeah...hey, YEAH! I am, aren't I? (picks up the scale and clocks the Rogue with it, to the cheers of many.)
Oh, you'll pay for that. But first, we're vacating this stupid title, and we'll see who REALLY deserves it in the weeks to come.
RHM: Maybe you can make a run at the North American belt.
Luke Warm: Hey!
RHM: Okay, the Intergalactic Belt. Whatever. We'll work something out. Sorry, we tried. That infernal Rogue actually playing by the book - who'd have guessed?
And there they go, off to the locker room. Here come the Reno Bros. now, and they look ready for a fight. The two midget celebrities accompanied of course by their muscular help, Grover, and their quartet of Renettes.
***bell rings.
Ike Reno against Masta CP to start. Look at the size differential here! CP with a huge side slam. And a massive kneedrop. He whips Ike against the ropes, clothesline misses by a good two feet, sidekick misses by about ten inches above Ike's head. Ike takes out CP's knee, and he's jumping up and down, working that knee like a pro...midget wrestler.
Oh, this brings me back to the good old days! Back when the crowd actually believed this stuff, cheered the good guys, booed the bad guys, and wouldn't stop to think to hit you over the head with their soda bottle or metal chair. THOSE were the days of REAL wrestling.
I'm sure they were. When did the audience believe this? Uh...in any event, Ike tags to the fresh man, Mike. Double teaming tactics by the Renos. Wishbone legsnap by the midgets. They had to stand on tippy-toes to achieve the desired leverage. Mike now, he sends Masta CP to the buckle, a head of steam on the little person, CP dodges as Mike gets a trapezius full of steel. Elwood P. is tagged in.
I'm not sho' wassup widdis. They wuz cool as da Motown guys, they still kinda cool now, but how long befo' this gets stale too? Whass next in da new sound?
I shudder to even think about that. Elwood P. with a big back body drop. A few kneelifts take Mike right off the ground. The cover: 1...2...and a shoulder up. Just barely. Grover is up on the apron.
Grover: Why don't you pick on someone your own size?
Elwood P. is beckoning to Grover. I guess we have a handicap match on our hands! Grover is tagged in, the ref is allowing this! Grover with some rights and lefts, a headbutt, and a big backbreaker. He's amazing, how come he's just the hired help?
Isn't it obvious? The Renos can't exactly wrestle big men, can they?
They wadn't doin' too bad. Less not f'get Pepe took out four guys in the first Bunkhouse 'Blivion Brawl.
With the now-banned PogoStilt, yes. PeeWee RRRico was equally a pawn. How viable the Renos are as a team remain to be...did you see that? Grover just...
No, I missed it.
Me too.
Actually, so did I, but the crowd's pop said SOMETHING really cool happened, and Elwood P. is down. 1....2...3! The Renos win.
Here are your winners, THE RENO BROTHERS! You wanted the best, you got these guys...uh, I mean, you got the best.
Wait! There's Sweet Candy Andy on the Monstron! What's HE doing back?
I'll TELL ya what I'm doin' back, McMadden. I gots a little proposition fo' da midgets. Well SUPERCARD IV is comin' up, and all us guys in da dungeon get to roam free agin. So I wanna challenge dose Renettes to an eight-man tag. I got my Candygirls lines up right here. I got as we all know, Gratuitous Tina...
(shot to a blonde chick in a really thin tube top)
And of course, Sunshine the Stewardess...
(shot of an airline hostess in a tailored dress and a phony smile)
Then we got Miss Chlamydia...
(A girl who looks like death warmed over is seen. She's rail thin but not unattractive)
And finally, my newest acquision, Gordita!
(shot of a Latino female in a Che Guevara beret)
Man, check her out! She looks good enough to eat, dun' she? Makes ya wanna run fo' da border. Mmmm MMM!
Ike Reno: Our girls will take those trollops on any day of the week!
Mike Reno: Yeah! ... hey, where's the rest of my cue card?
Well I guess that's settled.
I guess so. We'll be right back with a tag team match between Barnyard Force Five, and the team of Petey the Peanut Guy and Luke Warm.
How many matches can the OTHER guys fit into a pay-per-view? Seven? Eight? Okay, let's be generous and say ten.
Now, how many matches can the STWF fit into a pay-per-view? If it's SUPERCARD IV, it's a hell of a lot more! Right now, we've got 19 - at least! Don't forget there's plenty of jobbers out there to fill out our card. You just might be fighting one if you don't make a challenge soon! Tentative date is May 13, plus or minus (but mostly plus) three days. We'll see. Yes, it's SUPERCARD IV, and it's twice the pay-per-view anyone else can put on.
Note: "twice the pay-per-view" refers to quantity only and may or may not refer to pay-per-view quality.
And we're back. In dark match action, you missed Big Buck Johanson squeaking out a win over Death. Interference by the Mason, many bottles of hard liquor and about six pounds of venison steaks later, Buck Johanson got a three-count in a hard fought match that kept everyone in their seats for at least half the match - hey, cheap beer plays a factor too.
Word. *sip*
That had better be apple juice.
I hear the Mason is getting his debut match delayed AGAIN. That interference was just a taste of what to expect if he's put off any more. He's got powerful friends, Vince. REAL powerful.
Oh, we're SO scared! What's he going to do to us? Oh no, some Scottish cultist is going to kill my family! Oh, the horror! Please.
Besides, I'm just an announcer. If anyone has cause to worry, it's the Executives, and by association the Hubcap Gang and the Gallery.
Come on Gallery, let's feel some Mason wrath! *sip*
Yeah, whatever, Jamal. Both teams are in the ring. Petey starts off against the Mad Cow. Petey with a vertical suplex. Petey to the second rope, flying elbow! Oh, the Mad Cow rolled away. The Mad Cow with a leaping bodypress. He covers: 1...2...no. Petey with a DDT. He picks up the Mad Cow and hammer-throws him out of the ring!
Hey, what happened to our feed?
The Kamera Kid's been hit! Do we have a replacement?
Only one.
Oh no. Not this, not now.
Yes, Camera Cow is coming out and will be filming the action from now on.
You must be joking. Okay, well all we can see are feet right now...can we jack up the camera angle a bit? Okay, that's better. The Mad Cow has tagged in Lenny Baxter. Lenny has a futon! He smashes it over his back to the delight of the crowd!
You have to wonder how effective that move can be. Hitting yourself with furniture. Is that like a really painful "wake-up slap" to your upper arms?
Don't ask me, I just announce this. Lenny dropkicks Petey, but Petey grabs the leg on his way down. Wait! Don't move away, Camera Cow, we can't see the action!
While we waitin', less talk about da tag situation.
Good call, Jamal. Right now our champions are Petey and Mr. Planters, aka "Smooth and Crunchy". Basically unless Mr. Planters gets REALLY good REALLY fast, they don't have much chance at all. I wonder to whom they will give the first shot.
Anyone short of the Aboriginals could do it. Maybe even the Reno Brothers.
Petey tags in Luke Warm! (cheers) THE TAG IS MADE! Both members of Barnyard Force Five are in the ring, attacking him alternately, but Warm is too hot! DROPKICK! DROPKICK! CLOTHESLINE! CLOTHESLINE! STONECUTTER! STONECUTTER! STONECUTTER! STONECUTTER! ST...(Angus is quickly silenced with a blackjack)
Who keeps doin' that? I thought Vince took the blackjack.
It's that midget woman behind us in the front row.
I sho' hope this angle goes nowhere.
It will, don't worry about THAT.
The cover is made: 1...2...3! Luke Warm does it again! Who can stop this juggernaut?
Da Violent Pacifist!
Dr. Sillaconne M. Plants!
douja!
The Pencil-Necked Geek, if he really applied himself!
It was a rhetorical question but thanks for the input.
Here comes "the DQ king himself", Dr. Snare, with some choice words.
Dr. Snare: Listen up! I'm sick and tired of winning matches by DQ, or being disqualified. By my count, my last five matches went down this way. Well I'm fighting Arnold tonight, and this match is no-DQ! So there's no WAY this thing can go down in a way I don't want.
Okay...
What's the Mason doing out here?
The Mason: Aye, laddie, there are no disqualifications. But Arnold is not who you'll be fighting. I will be your opposition, and Grampa just got a trunkful of money for it. So I expect this match will be worth my money, yes?
Dr. Snare: Whatever, Scotsman. Let's just get it on.
***bell rings.
Dr. Snare exits the ring immediately, he's grabbing a table! This is going to get hardcore right away!
Let's hope so, or else our ratings will take a nosedive. You call this a main event?
I thought the Mason's debut was delayed. I guess money talks.
Learn it well.
Man, that was some good....apple juice. *hic* yo.
I'd still rather have Jamal out here than risk meeting Col. Khorne here. The Mason and Dr. Snare in a non-technical grappling scenario. They're exchanging blows with garbage cans. Dr. Snare wins that, he places the Mason on the table. To the top rope...double legdrop on the table! But it didn't break.
Course it didn't. Got that metal bar thang all across the length. Y'know, if I squinted, that chick in the second row would be hot.
But the ring crew was supposed to remove that for the match, and pre-perforate it. Amateurs!
Which one, Jamal? Oh, never mind. The Mason slowly gets up. He picks up the table and heaves it in Dr. Snare's gut! Snare goes reeling to the corner. The Mason places the table directly in front of him. Running start...the Mason with a cartwheeling back press. But the table didn't touch Snare.
Why would it? Look at all that void space he left the Doc.
Both men leaving the ring now. Dr. Snare has picked up the unforgiving aluminum steps.
Those steps are reinforced with mercury for extra danger.
Dr. Snare: They ARE? Then why the hell am I touching them?! (wipes hands on his trunks)
Dr. Snare is content to ram the Mason through those Al-Hg steps. The Mason gets up slowly, he jabs Dr. Snare in the leg with his stickpin! Snare start hobbling. Headbutt by Snare. The fighting has just gone over the security barrier and into the stands! Some overzealous audience members are taking a few shots. Violent Vinnie Mansbridge is there too. I don't think he's EVER leaving the audience stands.
This has to be the dumbest running gag we've ever had.
Well it's certainly one of the longest, next to BILL's big hype in the first episodes of Nae Trous. Wait, this is MUCH longer running.
A lotta good hits bein' thrown here.
Where? They're barely touching each other. It's like they're leading each other to different parts of the arena and occasionally tossing a weak hit.
***bell rings.
Ladies and gentlemen, this match has ended in a DOUBLE COUNT-OUT!
Dr. Snare: WHAT?! NO!!!!!! THAT'S THE SAME THING!
Dr. Snare has just gone ballistic! The Mason, the ref, the audience members are all scrambling to escape this rampage. And it's here where we must end it. For Captain Tw...
Run! He's headed this way!
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre