You're Not Safe! From Asylum Anarchy '98!
En español donde sea disponible!
(Pan exterior of the Queen Street Mental Health center. A bunch of rather strange-acting people are hanging around outside. The camera very slowly backs away.)
(Pan interior of the same center. It looks empty. Too empty.)
This is one creepy place. Hello everyone, and welcome to ASYLUM ANARCHY '98! We can expect a lot of weird stuff to go down tonight, we're right in the heart of madness. Who knows WHO will show up? Anyway, I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden. Joining me tonight are Captain Twilight and the Pencil-Necked Geek.
Greetings and salutations. It's a pleasure to finally be in the announcing booth.
No amusing ignorant commentary from Jamal or Gary?
I'm afraid you're filling that position today, old man.
Oh dear.
Pleasantries aside. Let's all watch our backs; we've been informed that all the headcases are out on day passes, but we were also told they got a discount to be part of the audience.
So some doped-up man with a God complex could very well try to fight?
Leave Carnage out of this.
Well, it appears that our first match will pit Identity Crisis Man against Oni-San.
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way to the ring first, accompanied by Sasuke, from Japan and weighing 185 lbs., here is ONI-SAN!
(He doesn't get a theme song because he's not an Asylum member.)
And his opponent, accompanied by Bob, from Bolivar, Tennessee and weighing 239 lbs., IDENTITY CRISIS MAN!
(Again, no theme. This time he's dressed like Anarchy, if you remember him. Bob is dressed like Michael Wackson.)
***bell rings.
Anarchy won't be too happy to see he's being imitated.
Identity Crisis Man isn't imitating Anarchy; as far as I can tell, he thinks he IS Anarchy. That's what an identity crisis is all about. I think.
Ho hum. I'm waiting for Bait and Switch to start climbing the ranks again, after this match against those no-good fast food workers.
ICM bounces off the ropes with a crossbody. Oni-San didn't have a chance. Both men up. ICM with a series of chops. Our crowd is giving multiple "WHOO!"s with each one. I wonder why. Oni-San fighting right back. Kick to the midsection, crescent kick, spinning heel... whoops, ICM caught his leg on that last one. Oni-San with an enzuigiri!
Nope. The guy dressed as Anarchy ducked.
Identity Crisis Man with a belly-to-belly. He lays a cover: 1...kickout on 2. He pulls the dropped Japanese superstar up by the neck. He's hanging him in the air! Why isn't the ref doing anything?
Because technically, this isn't a chokehold.
Oni-San won't give. Down he goes, face up on the canvas, thrown by ICM. Oni-San struggles to get up, but ICM kicks him back down.
Every time he gets out here, I never fail to be impressed by Identity Crisis Man. He just gets better and better with each performance.
I could beat him with one hand tied behind my back.
You realize, of course, that I have a connection with the booker...in fact, they'd start listening to my ideas for matches just to keep booking out of the hands of the Rogue.
What's the story with that, anyway? The Rogue's an executive, I used to work for him, he's making a power play now and he's claiming the brass like Der Kommissaar and the Right Hand Man are keeping him down. But why?
Easy. Because the Rogue's a heel.
Oh. Makes sense.
Oni-San with a desperate attempt to gain a foothold....he whips ICM into the ropes, where Sasuke trips him with the flag! Identity Crisis Man is down. Oni-San is going for the Tokotai splash! He's going to the top rope...and here it comes! NO! Anarchy (sort of) with the knees up. Anarchy looks mad.
That's not Anarchy. Anarchy is 6'4", 250. This guy is 5'9", 239. While Anarchy COULD have lost 11 pounds, the chances he lost 7 inches are very slim indeed.
How do we know Anarchy was 6'4" in the first place? Bootlifts, don't you know.
ICM hits Oni-San with the Michael Wackson sock! And here comes the Doomsday piledriver, made by Anarchy, and often imitated but NEVER duplicated...YES! The cover: 1...2...3! Identity Crisis Man makes a big win over the young superstar from Ganbariya.
I thought he was from Japan.
Whatever. Let's just get to the next match. douja is set to rumble against Tyrone Mayhem of the Inner Circle.
Battle of the Superstars that Set the Civil Rights Movement Back Twenty Years. This oughta be good for a snooze...or a fun match of 3-D chess on my laptop! An 8x8x8 board - I invented it myself, and programmed it with a really sexy algorithm.
Um...yeah. You do that. We'll actually call this match like responsible announcers.
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way first, representing the Inner Circle, weighing 200 lbs., here is TYRONE MAYHEM!
(no theme.) And his opponent, from Parts Forgotten and weighing 245 lbs., here is...douja!
(no theme again. He enters the ring with blunt in hand.)
***bell rings.
The rest of the Inner Circle banned from this melee. We have to have FAIR fights, now don't we?
Don't worry; the Inner Circle will find a way if it kills them.
Hey, was that guy in all-white and the white mask here before?
Who, front row there? No...but then, this place has so much white it's easy to overlook. I'm sure he has nothing to do with this match though. Tyrone Mayhem with a big dropkick. douja pinwheeling his arms...it's to no avail, he falls face-first! He was really rocked by that one. Tyrone Mayhem plays a hunch and covers: 1...no. I guess douja still has the faculties to keep going. He holds Tyrone at bay with one hand while he smokes...
Who does he think he is, the Giant?
That angle ended a while ago. Besides, he's smoking far worse.
Alright! Bishop to Queen's Knight 3,5 advance! Ooh, I can smell victory in nineteen moves!
Mayhem puts douja in a full nelson. douja starts yelling...
douja: let my arms go..huh huh.. I cain't reach my blunts!
Dismissing the idea that he was yelling in pain...
The ref asking if he submits...douja doesn't. He falls limp, and slips out of the hold. Back kick by douja. He's up now. Mayhem with a big clothesline, and douja right back down.
Yes, falling right into my trap! He's really lacking defense on level 7, and therein lies his downfall.
If you programmed it, and it's losing, doesn't that mean that your programming skills should be questioned?
DON'T SAY THAT! I'm still beta testing. It's still at Master level before tweaking, even though it and I are the only known players of 8x8x8 chess. I hope.
Mayhem with a reverse thrust kick! douja isn't in his game at all. He bumps the ref on his way down. Boy, we need some stronger refs.
Is it time to mention that masked guy in passing again?
Sure, why not. Look at that fan - boy does he look intense. Unlike the all-black-with-black-mask that's been so done, he's been innovative and wears all white with a white mask. It doesn't get more creative than that.
Oh, you think?
Ah...and now, I draw the final blow. NO! DON'T CRASH NOW! Stupid Windows. I
KNEW
I should have brought the UNIX, I just KNEW it!
The fan is jumping the security barrier!
You mean those cardboard boxes laid end-to-end?
Yes. He's beating up on both men! douja's down, so he switches focus to Tyrone Mayhem! This guy is huge. What power! What awesome power!
Now don't go all Jim Ross on us now.
Tyrone Mayhem has been laid out! That...that....BULLY...is just pointing and laughing at both men as he leaves the ring. This is unforgivable!
You'll forgive it soon enough, I'm sure.
douja crawls over to Mayhem and flops his body on top of the other. The ref counts...
Oh, he's up now? How convenient.
1...2...3! douja with a major upset. He'll be moving up in the ranks for that one. But who WAS that man in white? I have no idea.
I can't wait for this next match. Hotly anticipated by all, I'll wager.
I'm rather lukewarm to it, but little more.
Feh.
You morons wouldn't know talent if it slapped you in the face!
The following tag team contest is set for one fall. Making their way to the ring, from Los Angeles, California and with a combined weight of 597 lbs., John Whopper and Chris Fry, THE CREW!
(No theme music.)
And their opponents, from Silicon Valley in the 6th Circle of Hell, with a total combined weight of 420 lbs., here are Bait and Switch, THE TECHIE SALESMEN FROM HELL!
(no theme.)
I'll soon fix that!
(he clicks a button for the "Intel Inside" jingle .wav file. He keeps clicking until they get to the ring. The sound barely carries two feet.)
I
KNEW
I should have brought my big speaker, I just KNEW it!
***bell rings.
The Techies and the Crew ready to lock horns, it's Bait against Whopper to start off. John Whopper with a big right hand.
Now that you mention it, it DOES look larger than his left.
Whopper laying some serious hurtin' on Bait right now. A kneelift by Whopper gives Bait some air! Whopper picks up Bait and drapes his neck right across the top rope! Ouch! Bait is clutching his neck. Whopper tries to get him in a vertical suplex...not happening, he tries again...and John Whopper goes for the ride! Bait with a legdrop as his own little exclamation point.
What a rally! My friends here are going to teach these...these -things!- a lesson in wrestling they won't forget. Well, actually they will forget it, guys like Whopper and Fry don't ever learn.
Bait has Whopper in a headlock. Bulldog! Bait tags in Switch. A double-team effort here by the Techies...double DDT! What a maneuver.
Not bad, but I wouldn't call it great, exactly.
I wouldn't expect YOU to appreciate it.
I miss the days where you could shear off a cauliflowered ear with a kneedrop. Wrestling's just gotten too soft.
You just wait, I think it's going to get really hardcore really soon! But not this match, there's no Asylum guys in it. And the Techies wouldn't know hardcore if it was a Java applet.
That's it! I'm going to...going to...spam your sorry hide back to the Stone Age! Now which companies sell their mailing lists again?
The Albatross Brothers Gaming Corporation, Geek Depot Techie Supplies, Meatnsaucy.com, basically all our corporate sponsors.
Don't encourage him. Chris Fry is tagged in, he's tangling with Switch. Fry Irish-whips Switch to the buckle. Fry coming in with a shoulderblock...Switch dodges, Fry bangs his shoulder against the ringpost! That has to hurt.
Boy, he really looks like he felt that one. You have to wonder how that could affect his performance in the Mighty Bastard Psycho Driver tournament.
Speaking of which, we haven't seen the Vegas Connection wrestle in how long? They were active in the MBC and had those belts, but they're not wrestling! So much for that.
Fry working his shoulder back into place, but I doubt he's of any use in the ring now.
And of course, he doesn't make the tag, oh no, that would be the SMART thing to do. But nobody accused the Crew of being smart.
That's very true. Switch is working over Fry's shoulder, causing even more damage! Fry isn't going anywhere. Switch lifts up Fry in position...
Y2K IS COMING!
Here comes the Millennium Crash! Fry is done. There's nothing left in him at all. 1...2...........3! Yes folks, the Techies pull off another one, and cleanly to boot!
Are you accusing us of cheating? How dare you!
Oh, go ahead and deny it, we've all seen the tapes.
I didn't sleep with her! Honest! I don't care what it looks like, I still say that was Stephen Hawking.
What are you talking about? I was talking about the archived Monday Nae Trous and Friday Friday Friday tapes.
(he reddens) Oh. Well, folks, you're going to hear a lot of rumours soon, and I'd like to deny them now.
And I thought
I
was supposed to play the comedy role tonight.
Our final non-Asylum match this evening is headed your way, and boy is it a doozy. The Violent Pacifist will square off against Prisoner X. This could be the Pacifist's big chance to get those North American title shots. We all saw his comments last Friday. Heck, if he beats Prisoner X he'll be in contention for the Heavyweight belt!
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way down the aisle, from Seattle, Washington, representing the Total Annihilation Squad and weighing 330 lbs., THE VIOLENT PACIFIST!
(no theme song. Strep comes down but nobody seems to notice. He hasn't spoken word one since getting here.)
And his opponent, from New York City, representing the Inner Circle and weighing 290 lbs...PRISONER X!
(again, no theme. The camera takes footage all the way from his makeshift locker room, where the cops escort him down the halls and into the ring.)
You know, I swear I've seen that somewhere before. But where?
Don't ask me, I don't watch the shows from rival organizations.
***bell rings.
Prisoner X is asking for a test-o'-strength. The Violent Pacifist politely declines. P-X shrugs and gives the Pacifist a wicked European uppercut that rattles his eyeballs in his sockets.
Good sportsmanship is being thrown out the window for this one!
And so what? The STWF isn't handing out Lady Byng trophies to my recollection.
Don't give Der Kommissaar ideas. Prisoner X with a rake to the eyes, and a scoop slam now. Kneedrop...misses its mark. The Violent Pacifist is up. He knocks Prisoner X with a devastating short clothesline!
VP: This is not the answer!
The Pacifist with a vertical suplex...he's just holding him in the air, what a display of power! And doooown goes the felon. The cover, the count, the vic...no! Kickout by the Prisoner. Prisoner with a side headlock on the Pacifist, he's pounding away! The ref breaks the hold. The Pacifist now, with a German suplex. 1...2...no! He picks up the legs of Prisoner X... he's going for a figure-four!
VP: This hurts me more than it hurts you.
PX: Just wait until I reverse it. THEN it'll hurt you more.
VP: Huh?
Prisoner X just flipped the Pacifist over like a pancake; the hold's been reversed! The Violent Pacifist doesn't like it when the tables are turned it seems.
That's what you get. He doesn't like violence and pain, he shouldn't be in the STWF/CSTLL.
The Geek once again reminding us we still have the Mexican part in our name. Hey, let's see what they're talking about right now.
Mexican Announcer: Preeseñor X...Garveen stomp! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAL!
GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAL!
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAL!
And we wonder why we never show the Mexican announcers on television.
Except when their table gets broken.
The Violent Pacifist throws Prisoner X out of the ring. Pacifist bounces off the ropes, and here he comes...
Mexican Announcer: PLANCHA! Super super PLANCHA! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAL!
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAL!
*CRACK!* *THUD*
The Violent Pacifist just broke through the Mexican Announcer's table and knocked him out in the process!
What do we need a Mexican announcer for when there aren't any Mexican wrestlers here?
Pre-booked for all the Mexico Madness PPVs or equivalents.
This fed's got problems.
Tell me about it. Will the Prisoner last after that nasty plancha through the table? The Pacifist is rolling him in the ring. He's applying the Dreammaker! Prisoner X looks like he's out of it. The arm is raised once...twice...thr...the arm stays up! Prisoner X with a jawbreaker! He rolls over the Pacifist...1...2...shoulder up. Prisoner X now going for a Boston Crab. The Pacifist is going for those ropes... will he make it? Wait, the Pacifist with a backslide! How did he do that? The Pacifist has the Prisoner: 1...2...3!
Didn't you see, though? The Pacifist had his feet on the ropes!
No doubt about it, that Pacifist has learned a few dirty tricks since he fell in with the Total Annihilation Squad.
A tainted victory, but a victory nonetheless. Prisoner X is arguing with the ref, but all in vain. The ref didn't see it, it's all legal.
But now it's time for the actual Asylum part of Asylum Anarchy '98. It's Iceberg vs. Sally Sleepy-Time, so let's go now to comments from Sally.
Sally: Ma-ma...ma-ma...(eyes grow cold, foam starts coming from mouth)...INSIGNIFICANT INSECT! I WILL CRUSH YOU BETWEEN MY FINGERS AND LICK OFF ANYTHING THAT REMAINS! (eyes grow soft) Sally wanna go beddy-bye. *YAWN*
Well, he's certainly in the right place. Good thing I'm back here and not out there.
This contest is a Shoot-For-Loot rematch!
So they're not going to really mix it up?
So this match isn't booked?
None of them are, you know that!
Oh, right, SURE they aren't. I get you. *wink*
Ahem! Entering first, representing the Total Annihilation Squad and weighing 471 lbs., ICEBERG!
(No theme. Strep is right behind, holding a sign reading "Iceberg Sank the Titanic".)
Wait a minute, didn't...
And his opponent, from Parts Unknown....I don't need to tell you he represents the Asylum Alliance. He weighs 398 lbs. He is... SALLY SLEEPY-TIME!
(Brahms' "Lullaby" plays. Sally walks out, waving his arms mechanically.)
***bell rings.
And here we go for round one. The judges have still decided to hand Sally the costume point, and Iceberg the hygiene point, so it's all even. Iceberg with a right hook! And a left uppercut! Sally answers right back with a haymaker. This is one evenly-matched brawl! Rabbit punch by Sally. Iceberg dodges the next hit, and answers with a cross-punch that leaves Sally staggering! Sally regains his ground and lands one square on Iceberg's jaw!
***bell rings.
I don't know what the unofficial results were for that one, but I think that was Sally's round. Sally going for a takedown, but lands right on his face. He gets up slowly... Iceberg with a vicious punch right on the nose! Iceberg unrelenting...I think Sally's going down...Sally drops right on his back!
I think Sally is unconscious!
Sally: Snorzzzzzz...ma-ma....snorzzzz
That big baby doll just fell asleep after it landed on its back!
I think Sally's weakness has just been found. The ref is counting 8...9...10! Iceberg wins, and advances in the Shoot-For-Loot! I would have never guessed that. But Iceberg will be THE man to beat in this game, he's got the size and the power to go far. Unless there's some lefties in this battle...
Here comes Strep with a crobar! He's going to bash Sally as revenge for having his ribs cracked! Here's the wind-up...
Strep doesn't realize that there's someone holding the crobar behind him. He gulps and turns around. It's Bohemoth! He was in the audience and jumped in. Strep isn't getting his revenge today it seems. Maybe next time, buddy. Strep and Iceberg leave, while Bohemoth gets back to his spot in the audience.
Well, ThatGuy and Dr. Snare are ready to go, so let's get right to it!
This contest is set for one fall, and it has just been deemed FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE! Entering first, from Jackson, Tennessee and weighing 275 lbs., DOCTOR SNARE!
(No theme music. Kandi accompanies Snare, but Snare tells her to go back to the locker room because of the danger involved. Kandi puts her hands on her hips and walks away indignantly.)
And his opponent, from Parts Unknown, weighing 266.5 lbs....you all know who I'm talking about....
(he holds the mic to the audience. They all yell: "ThatGuy!")
("Insane in the Brain" by Cypress Hill plays. The Wheelbarrow Man wheels ThatGuy to the ring, dumps him unceremoniously, and runs off. The crowd is cheering.)
***bell rings.
Wow...two of the most hardcore men in this sport, locking up for falls-count-anywhere.
Snare doesn't look that hardcore anymore. And what's this about being more muscular than before? He's still 275! My guess is he lost the difference when his brain shrunk.
ThatGuy with a shot to Snare's gut. ThatGuy with a fireman's carry takeover. Snare gets up and bodyslams him. Snare leaving the ring already...ThatGuy follows. Things are about to get a little more hardcore!
Snare picks up a chair! The ref is telling him to put it down? It's falls count anywhere, but it doesn't mean use foreign objects?! What good is this?
You gotta hand it to the bookers. When they're precise, they're precise!
ThatGuy whips Dr. Snare into the ringsteps. Ouch! Snare right back, and slams his head against the guardrail! Cardboard can really hurt sometimes.
Look at those Mexicans trying to rebuild their table. I wonder if it'll last before the Doc and ThatGuy can get to it.
Let's find out now...because Doctor Snare has a handful of ThatGuy and he's heaving it all over there!
(CRACK!)
(thud)
A lot less impact force because the table was already pretty shaky upon second construction.
The announcer also didn't make as much noise that second time either. Can we bring out the French table, maybe?
Here comes the French table. Doctor Snare is taking ThatGuy by the hair over there now! The ref warning the Doctor about the hairpull, but Snare doesn't seem to care! And here goes ThatGuy, powerbombed through the table!
(CRACK!)
(Thud Thud)
Two announcers at once!
The ref counts on the smashed table...1...2...kickout! ThatGuy isn't giving up! ThatGuy gives Doctor Snare a reverse DDT on the remains of the table. All those splinters must be mighty painful.
I'll say. I have to experience splinters every time I sit on a piece of furniture at home.
Why don't you just get new furniture?
That's the problem with you young'uns today. Always buying new. Never sticking with perfectly good furniture. Nooo...you have to UPGRADE!
Must...control...anger...don't...want...to...kill...geezer...
ThatGuy is giving the signal...YES! He's going for the...Hideous Finger Bite! And there it is! Doctor Snare looks quite uncomfortable indeed!
Could be the splinters.
Yes, could be, but I'll put my money on the fact that his finger's being torn off. Wait! Somebody just came out from underneath the ring and levelled ThatGuy!
Look at those gaudy tie-dye colours!
The man in tie-dye just clocked ThatGuy and buzzed right by like he was a stealth bomber!
ThatGuy got Pearl Harbored alright.
Doctor Snare wasting no time. Snare with a double-underhook suplex; ThatGuy goes crashing into the Mexican table, undergoing a third construction!
(CRACK!)
(
thud
)
Those announcers are getting doggone quiet.
Doc with the cover: 1...2...3! Yes! Doctor Snare successful in his return, albeit from the second mystery man of the night.
I sure hope that's the last one. Mystery men are so overused, they're almost...
Stereotypical?
Right-o. Never mind; my fault.
Here's our next match. It's BILL as he takes on the Stalker in a Texas Death match.
This is a Texas Death match. The rules are as follows: Upon a three-count, the opponent has ten seconds to get up. The match ends when one person cannot get up after the ten-count. Introducing first, representing the Total Annihilation Squad, weighing in at 283 lbs., here is...THE STALKER!
(no theme music. Mixed reaction as he enters.)
And his opponent, from Springfield, Illinois, weighing in at 244 lbs., here is BILL!
(The 1812 Overture blares at high volume. Everyone is tossed back in their seats as the intense sound booms out. BILL makes his grand lasers-and-cannons entrance. Big cheers for the pyrotechnics etc....but probably not much for BILL himself. Hey, he has to get over somehow, though, doesn't he?)
***bell rings.
And here we go! The Stalker starts things off with a dropkick. BILL takes it badly on the chin and drops immediately - now that's accuracy! The Stalker going to the middle rope... flying elbowdrop! Stalker climbs the ringpost, to the top rope this time...another flying elbowdrop! BILL doesn't look so hot.
Has he ever?
The ref counts: 1...2...3! BILL has ten seconds to get up.
Isn't BILL like your favourite wrestler, Vince?
He is? Oh why, Vince, why?
I don't know, I just do. He's a talented individual.
If this is talent, I'd hate to see what isn't.
The ref's up to eight...nine...the Stalker pulls BILL up, what arrogance! The Stalker has a disgusted look on his face, as if he can't believe the incompetence he has to work with!
I should have that disgusted look more often then.
He tosses BILL down...up to the high-rent district once more...it's the Stalker Splash! I haven't seen that in a while.
It's a good move, accentuated only by his frame.
The cover: 1...2...3! BILL has another ten seconds.
The Stalker's doing push-ups; boy does he look confident.
Switching to stride jumps now, I guess he has to work up a sweat in some manner.
The ref is at eight...nine...ten! The Stalker wins by a total blowout! What a cheap match.
I didn't expect any more from BILL.
Truth be told, I expected less.
You two are evil. Just leave him be. I don't see either of your butts in the ring.
Former STWF ICCTINACBBIC champion.
Biggest arena draw in the tri-state area from 1937-39.
Okay, I stand corrected. Well, there's naught left but the title matches! The tag belts are the first to go defended. But first, these messages.
This is a PPV! There are no commercials.
Somebody bought this time, Der Kommissaar's not turning down any ad money.
Sorry to interrupt this fantastic card, but I've got a serious message to tell you all.
Hi! I'm Fred Meatnsaucy, and if you don't know me by now, well, allow me to fill you in on all my great Meatnsaucy products! Here's my powdered gravy; just look at all those chunks! Mmmboy. Um...well, powdered gravy is pretty much it. But it comes in twenty-seven virtually indistinguishable flavours! Why not pick one up tonight. Not only does it add zest to any meat, it also works pretty well in ice-cream floats!
(cut to little boy eating a gravy float)
Boy: Mmmm....veal!
And there you have it. That's Meatnsaucy powdered gravy! It's in the gravy aisle at your local supermarket.
Caution: Meatnsaucy powdered gravy has been known to cause abdominal distension and impotence in 2% of all users. If you are allergic to house dust, do not purchase Meatnsaucy powdered gravy. If your pet has urinary tract problems, do not give it Meatsaucy gravy.
The following tag team contest is for the STWF Heavyweight Tag titles, and is set for one fall. Making their way first, the challengers, with a total combined weight of 561 lbs., from Parts Unknown, here are Sasquatch and Dizzy Desi...THE CIRCUS FREAKS!
(The ominous calliope big-top music plays. The fans heave a sigh of relief that the volume is lower than before.)
And their opponents, the champions, representing the Inner Circle, with a total combined weight of 550 lbs., Beast and Beast Light, MILWAUKEE'S BEST!
(no theme music. It all seems anti-climactic. Milwaukee's Best trundle out without their music like they were Furnas and Lafon or something.)
***bell rings.
Dizzy D starts off with Beast. Beast with a front face lock. Double-D gets out, and moves to a top-wristlock. Beast gets a hand free and something of a suplex sends Dizzy flying. But no, Dizzy manages to spin around in mid-air and deliver a missile dropkick! How did that happen?
Dizzy is full of surprises. You never know which direction he'll turn up next.
Beast picks up Dizzy by the neck with one hand and tosses him over to his own corner. Beast Light is strangling him with the tag rope. Beast charges the ring rope, and a big knee right in the solar plexus. Dizzy is visibly hurt! Beast with a gutwrench suplex and tags in Beast Light. Milwaukee's Best with a quick double-team effort, pounding away. Beast Light executes a hurricanrana! Beast Light whips Dizzy D into the ropes...
His ring geography's a little off, Dizzy managed to make a tag on the bounce.
Sasquatch's arms are so long, I wouldn't have guessed either!
Beast Light with a backbody drop on the Dizzy One. Sasquatch right in with a clothesline. Beast Light falls on Double-D, and all manner of fluids ooze out of that sore-riddled head. I guess the pressure buildup was too much.
Disgusting. My brother-in-law's a dermatologist; I really should get him to look at that freak.
Why would you do that?
Anything to stop me from looking at all those pustules.
Sasquatch with a Samoan drop on Beast Light. He covers: 1...2...kickout. Sasquatch with a round-the-world backbreaker. What a maneuver!
The Freaks are really in tip-top shape.
Sasquatch with a....Beast Light with a small package out of nowhere! 1...kickout. He just made the big man mad. The tag is made back to Beast.
A staredown ensues...
Beast initiates the action with a headbutt. Side headlock by Beast. Sasquatch breaks the hold, and Russian legsweep. Sasquatch covers: 1...shoulder is up.
Milwaukee's Best is really in tip-top shape.
These scriptwriters are really getting less creative.
Sasquatch climbs to the top buckle and turns around? Are we going to see a moonsault out of the hairy gargantuan?
Looks like....yes, it's a vertical-corkscrew splash. I didn't think Sasquatch was capable of a moonsault.
Nonetheless, Sasquatch looks to be learning some new moves from his smaller partner.
Beast gets up. Reverse neckbreaker by Beast! Sasquatch didn't see that coming at all. Beast to the top buckle...diving headbutt! The cover: 1...2...no. Beast moves in for a half-Crab. Good luck letting that get to Sasquatch. He kicks Beast in the head to release the hold.
Bohemoth is jumping the security barrier again! No carboard boxes are going to stop him! He pulls Beast Light down and starts hitting him with the white cane!
Beast in a lock-up with Sasquatch. Beast is moving back to his own corner...he sticks out a hand for the tag...but nobody's home! Beast turns around to see what's happening, and chalk that up in the "mistakes" column.
Sasquatch boxes Beast's ears. Hiptoss by Sasquatch. And here it comes...the Saskatchewan Stomp! Beast is feeling the pain.
The tag is made once more. I wonder what the ref has to say about Beast Light's out-of-ring pummelling.
I think he's concentrating on the match.
The Inner Circle is coming out to make the save. There's the Tiger! And Prisoner X! Dizzy Desi has made the corkscrew moonsault! This could be over right here... 1...2...and the Freaks, with much interference, gain the tag belts back! Bohemoth tosses Beast Light to the Inner Circle and hops the boxes back to his seat.
Here are your winners, and NEEEEEW STWF Tag team champions, THE CIRCUS FREAKS!
Milwaukee's Best is trying to get them disqualified and the decision reversed. The ref isn't budging. Another ref comes out to sway the vote! Still nothing. Beast twists the ref's head towards the Monstron and shows the instant replay...but the ref doesn't want to lose face, he's firm in his decision!
Sticking to your guns is one thing, but this is utter suicide! Beast is applying the Blackout sleeper on the ref. It might not help matters, but it's sure a great tension release!
The entire Asylum celebrating and laughing as they make their way back. Mira Maniac and Vito stay behind as their match is up next!
Currently in the ring, the challenger, Mira Maniac. And entering now, with Seed, the champ, here's the Sunflower. I need a drink.
(no theme, he enters with the belt. Yeah, you heard me, it's a belt again! He's wearing his construction worker's uniform with pink hardhat again.)
***bell rings.
Mira and the Sunflower lock up. Mira with a hiptoss. Sunflower gets up clutching his back. Mira moves in...Sunflower with a devastating clothesline!
Why must all clotheslines be "devastating", anyway?
Just one of those
mot juste
adjectives, I suppose.
Mira Maniac now with a snap suplex. He bounces off the ropes, and back again, he raises an elbow...pauses...and DOWN he goes!
Wow! That pause adds all the effect in the world. I wonder why nobody else has done it?
Sunflower on his feet now. Irish whip, Maniac goes for the ride, and he hits the turnbuckle hard!
That's a setup for the Sunflower's corner-bounce finisher. Will we see it already?
Sunflower advances...Maniac slips out of the ring. But wait! Seed throws him right back in there! The Sunflower takes advantage of the Maniac's momentum to scoop him up, and what a bodyslam from such a small guy.
I'm smaller.
We weren't talking to you. Sunflower moves in to the bow-and-arrow submission! I haven't seen that in a while.
It's more of a fad move.
You're certainly right about that. The Maniac grabs the ropes, and this match continues. Maniac attempts a kick, Sunflower blocks it. Maniac tries another one. Sunflower grabs it and pushes the Maniac down. Texas Cloverleaf coming your way.
The Sunflower sure wants a submission victory tonight, it seems.
That's his way, he's into that sort of thing.
Don't go there, guys. Maniac breaks the hold. Vito Sorvino is hemmorhaging in frustration! Well, not REALLY hemmorhaging... Sunflower with another whip to the buckle! And here it comes....the Bum Hump(TM)! Maniac is trying not to submit, but let's face it, the longer one waits to submit, the more...like the Sunflower...one looks! Maniac decides to give up now.
Here's your winner, and still champ, the Sunflower. Man, I'm tired.
Up next, Wrestler Smurf will battle the Tiger for the North American championship! The Tiger's in the ring now; it's not like he'd get much of an entrance tonight anyway.
And his opponent, weighing in at 325 lbs., the STWF North American champion...WRESTLER SMURF!
(The Smurf Dirge plays. Wrestler Smurf is wearing his belt, and has his Smurfette dolls on his shoulders.)
***bell rings.
Okay, now we're REALLY getting into the good stuff. Wrestler Smurf asks for a test-o'-strength. The Tiger obliges. Whoa...the Tiger's actually winning right now!
Will wonders never cease.
Wrestler Smurf drops to his knees...breaks the hold and grabs the Tiger in a fireman's carry, only to dump him outside the ring! What a devious tactic. Wrestler Smurf jumps off the top turnbuckle outside the ring for a flying clothesline! Too bad he missed by a mile. Brawling outside the ring now. They're going up the ramp...still brawling...the ref hits five, so they come back down, brawling all the while.
At least they're respecting the rules.
You would too if your title was on the line. No, wait, getting back in the ring only helps the Tiger! Oh well. The Tiger with a jawbreaker. The Tiger continuing his onslaught with a legdrop! The Tiger picks up the Smurf by the...um, cap...and...Smurf with a European uppercut. Smurf continues the barrage with a snapmare takeover.
Since when is one move an "onslaught" or a "barrage"?
Since the attention span of fans dropped fifty percent.
Only fifty? Okay....Smurf and Tiger in another non-scientific brawl. I don't like where this is going...
Just sit back and enjoy the ride, the fans seem to enjoy it.
Our fans are mainly mental patients today. Smurf with a rake to the eyes! Smurf with an inverted atomic drop! And now a DDT! The Smurf is really showing his prowess.
That could change at any moment, as with anything in wrestling. For example, if I were just about to re-write the script we've got on the desk here, like so...suppose I wanted the Tiger to win after the Smurf trips over his own bootlaces, and the Tiger follows up with a top-rope shooting star press? Let's see what happens.
That won't work. First of all, there's no script *cough*, and secondly, if there was, the combatants would have to see the revisions.
Okay, I'll just write in that they make their way over to the announcer's table.
Tiger: We can hear you. What do you want?
Just come over here for a second.
The Tiger and the Smurf battle their way down here.
Read this.
The Smurf looks upset as he reads the document, then shrugs as both men make their way back.
Disaster strikes! Wrestler Smurf's bootlaces have come undone and he trips! What a fall.
The Tiger wasting no time, he goes to the top rope...SHOOTING STAR PRESS! Amazing! The Tiger makes the count...1...2...3! And the Tiger wins the North American Championship belt back!
Here is your winner, and NEEEEEEEEW STWF North American champion...THE TIGER!
The whole Inner Circle comes out and carries him off on their shoulders as he leaves. The Smurf just lies in the ring, weeping. He's escorted by some ring officials away... here's the main event now!
The following contest is for the STWF Heavyweight Championship, and is set for one fall. Making his way to the ring, the Challenger, from Charleston, WV and weighing 490 lbs., BOHEMOTH!
("In the Hall of the Mountain King" plays. The crowd gives the biggest pop of the night, because they're all mental patients, see? Oh, why do I have to explain this, anyway?)
And his opponent, the STWF Heavyweight champion...
(a big puff of smoke in the ring. Death appears, and he actually seems sober!)
***bell rings.
This is the match that will make it all worthwhile!
Make what worthwhile?
I don't have a clue. Anyway, I've taken the script away and hidden it because who knows what secret agenda the Pencil-Necked Geek might have. He's not a booker, folks, he just acts that way.
I'm insulted! If you're going to be that way around me, I'm leaving!
Wait! Oh, whatever, more airtime for us. Bohemoth with a belly-to-back suplex! He's clamped on a reverse chinlock. Death is struggling...
Looks like he's resting if you ask me.
The ref orders a break of the hold, and that things get interesting. Death with a facerake! Death tries to lift up Bohemoth...but nothing happens. Bohemoth picks up Death, and a vicious powerbomb!
"Vicious". The
mot juste
word for a powerbomb.
Point taken, Cap, leave it be. Bohemoth makes the cover: 1...kickout. Death exits the ring.
What's the Right Hand Man doing at the top of the ramp? Looks like he's waiting for someone.
Or something. Could Der Kommissaar make his first ever public appearance?
I doubt it. That's why he has the Right Hand Man in the first place.
Bohemoth has to leave the ring, to get Death back in there, or else Death keeps that belt! Why hasn't anyone challenged Death to a no-DQ, no-count out contest? It appears that he always keeps his belt by fluke.
Just luck, I suppose.
Bohemoth and Death are battling it out. Bohemoth trying to toss Death in the ring...Death is grabbing the bottom rope! Bohemoth rolls in the ring...baseball slide by the big man! Death has released the grip, but he's still on the outside.
Rather odd, isn't it? Fighting to get a guy INSIDE the ring?
Bohemoth had better hurry up, the ref is at seven! Bohemoth picks up Death and heaves him up...Death's chin gets hooked over the top rope with his feet dangling over the apron!
Does that count?
The ref's at nine.
Bohemoth shoves Death's feet up with all his might!
***bell rings.
Ladies and gentlemen, this match has ended in a DOUBLE COUNT-OUT! Therefore, Death is STILL the STWF Heavyweight Champion!
Right Hand Man: Not so fast.
The Right Hand Man is making his way to ringside, and I think he has a bone to pick with Death.
Death, ever since you got that belt around your waist, you've done nothing at all to defend it properly. Getting yourself disqualified, using foreign objects, getting yourself counted out...you've done everything except wrestle the right way! And of course, the rules say that it's all good that way. But the extent that you've bent those rules leaves me no other option. I'm taking away your belt...AND VACATING IT!
(pop from audience)
RHM: Oh, hush now. It's just a belt vacancy, it's not like I said El Spheros was coming back.
El who?
The spherical Mexican guy.
Oh yeah...
RHM: Next week, on Monday Nae Trous, we will hold a battle royal to see just WHO the Champion really is. And Death, here's the good news...YOU'RE NOT EVEN IN IT! BWAAAAHAHAHAHA!
Death: You can't do this to me!
RHM: Oh, but I can, and I will. I hope you've enjoyed your belt reign, because now it's over. Now give me that belt!
Death: Never!
(he disappears in a puff of smoke with the belt)
What does this mean?
We'll have to find out later, we're out of time! For Captain Twilight, I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden, saying, thank you for ordering Asylum Anarchy '98!
©1998 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre
