No he didn't.
What are the Chosen Ones doing, coming to ringside?
(The two pyro guys finally bring out the sticks of dynamite and smoke bombs. Lasers are blaring to music by Philip Glass. Meatnsaucy's Money paid for all this...)
This is the moment that you've been waiting a year for! No, your whole LIFE for! It's the biggest pay-per-view in HISTORY! We're talking anywhere, and if you...
Hey Vince? They've already bought the pay-per-view if they're watching right now. There really is no need to hype it; what are they going to do, change the damn channel?
Oh yeah. Well folks, you're in for a heck of a treat. I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden, the man on my right is Captain Twilight, our 82-year-old, actively retired wrestler/commentator and member of the Old Boys' Network...
Greetings to all.
And on his right is Jamal Tupac Mustafa, just to make the place a little less classy.
Hey! Watch it, V, o' I'll pop a cap in yo' <-BLEEP->.
That's right folks, even on a pay-per-view, our censors are still in full swing! In any event, we were told we have some exhibition matches to take care of first. We'll kick things off with the World of Retard Wrestling...straight from president "Cerebral" Paul Z's desk, we'll see Oldberg, as he locks horns with Fighting Fury the Big Fat <-BLEEP->. Oh come on, it's the guy's name!
Sorry. We must maintain some decorum. This is the PPV that makes or breaks us. Literally tens of new viewers are watching this at home, not to mention the dozens more who are sneaking free peeks with the sound off in bars and pubs.
That many? Wow. Let's go to Announcer Lad for the profiles of these people.
(Announcer Lad shrugs)
What's that mean? Don't you have the cards for this match?
Why would I? It's not this fed. Wait, here comes a WRW rep now. Where the hell were you?! Okay, blah blah blah, from Fat County, USA, weighing 495 lbs., here's Fighting Fury!
("Fat" by Weird Al Yankovic plays...no surprises here. The big huge guy stumbles out.)
Check it - that guy's almost as big as da Glutton!
That must be Fighting Fury right now. The security officials are trying to get the crowd into this, but they're not big on cheering even the regular stars, so it's not easy work. Fighting Fury stomps around the ring a bit, eagerly awaiting his opponent.
His opponent, from Miami, Florida, weighing 185 lbs., he is 102 - 0 years old, here's Oldberg!
And here comes our next competitor, Oldberg...hey, he looks like he's one of us, at least in spirit. Oldberg, ever so slowly using a walker making his way to ringside, pausing halfway to catch his breath.
Pfff - THIS oughta be exciting...
Now, now, let's not judge.
Okay, there's a lock-up, and Fighting Fury goes straight into a belly-to-belly. Oldberg sure felt that one!
Don't be so sure. The nerves get dull after a while.
Only you would know, Cap. Oldberg gets up slowly. Some weak punches. I have no idea if Fury can even feel them.
With that protective roll of flab? I doubt it.
Oldberg executes a nice clothesline. Fighting Fury staggers a bit, but comes right back with one of his own, and the old man just drops.
This just isn't right!
Sure it is. Oldberg now dropkicks the Big Fat one, and Fighting Fury goes down. Can he get up? That's anyone's guess. The cover: 1...2...shoulder up. Fury is just wobbling back and forth, trying to roll onto his more-than-ample stomach. He looks like a turtle turned upside-down! Oldberg is capitalizing with stomps.
Now THIS is right.
Man, when we gettin' to da STWF stuff?
Come on, Jamal, this is exciting stuff! Fighting Fury is over on his stomach now! He's about to get up...but no! Oldberg has just applied a Camel Clutch. It doesn't seem to be working...his hands are caught in between Fury's massive chins! He's working them free, but it's not easy. The Big Fat <-BLEEP-> is starting to get up. Oldberg thinks fast. He switches up to a Boston Crab. Both men look spent. When an old guy and a fat guy fight, both men start sweating heavily.
Quit maligning our kind! Fat people I don't care.
Fury reaches the ropes. Oldberg breaks the hold. Fighting Fury with two gigantic forearm smashes. And there's a backbreaker...
Oh, it's time...it's time...it's KING DONG TIME!
WHAT?! What the hell's that mean?
His watch must be fast, it's not a quarter to nine.
Fury whips Oldberg to the buckle...and there's a BIG avalanche. Oldberg is through. He's dragged to the center of the ring and there's a cover. 1...2...3!
Here is your winner, Fighting Fury the Big Fat...I can't say that!
No indeed you can't. I think Oldberg needs medical attention here! He's not moving. Fighting Fury's not done...no, not the splash!
(Crowd groans. The Ambulance Jockeys run to ringside, put Oldberg on a stretcher and run out. Fighting Fury makes his way to the locker room soon afterwards.)
Oh, it was fun, come on. Would have liked to see the old man win, though.
Now that that's done, here's the second exhibition match from Big Dawg Championship Wrestling.
Di'n't dey close down?
That's going to stop us how?
That's right, it's Quezzy vs. "the Drunken Muppet" L-Mo.
Y'all think that L-Mo can get me Yoda's autograph?
(passing hand over Jamal's face) These are not the droids we are looking for...move along...
Here comes Quezzy now! He's got a can of Cherry Coke and he's cradling it like a child.
He realizes of course that in Canada cherry Cokes are easy to obtain, and in many American parts too.
That's what makes a gimmick, there, Cap. Stuff you just can't explain. And there's L-Mo now.
Hunh. Don't look much like a Muppet.
Shush, you might hurt his feelings.
These two people really wanted to mix it up and get extreme. What say we let them, STWF-style? Quezzy hammer-throws L-Mo out of the ring almost immediately. They just want to go straight to the hardcore. A few hits on the security barriers are sure to give Quezzy a headache. L-Mo pausing every few feet to give Quezzy another hit. Oh, wait, Quezzy just blocked one, and L-Mo takes a hit! Both men continuing to the back.
Is dere count-outs an' DQs?
Ah, they want to fight, let's say no. L-Mo is climbing up the Monstron! I don't believe this! Can he do that?
That thing is highly unstable.
The entire structure is shaking. That puppy's going to fall over and if it does, he'll have a lot to pay. L-Mo knows an unsafe situation when he sees one and climbs back down. Quezzy is laughing at him and takes a stepping side kick for doing so.
That's what you get.
L-Mo with a weak cover: 1...kickout. Come on, you'll have to do better than that. L-Mo picks up Quezzy, he slingshots him straight into the lintel of the entryway. Quezzy shakes it off, charges L-Mo and turns mid-air into a reverse DDT.
Two competitors really giving their all.
This ain't no fun. Where's da blood?
In the STWF? Well, we'll see, won't we. Both men heading backstage. And boy, does it look packed!
Of course it does; we've booked everyone in the fed for this card, and more. Why wouldn't it be packed?
I suppose you're right. Quezzy has just been thrown into a pile of crates! Some of the crates have been cracked open.
Dose crates had birds in 'em! Lookadat.
The backstage area is now populated with the freed...canaries, I believe. L-Mo is being pecked by the canaries! They're even tugging at him. Both men trying to grapple despite the bird interference. Quezzy plucks a bird from the air, he's using it as a foreign object here, and L-Mo takes a jab in the arm.
Oh, I'm sure he's used to such things. He is a pro wrestler after all.
Where's your integrity? There's testing to make sure that stuff doesn't happen. Besides, now they take it near the butt.
The opinions expressed by the commentators in no way represent those of the Executives, the Ivory Tower or the Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre. What do you mean, cover the pay-per-view channel's hide too? I'm not doing that!
L-Mo dropkicks Quezzy. Quezzy is cushioned by a few of the birds.
No animals were harmed during the taping of SUPERCARD IV. Yes, I know we're live, so what?
Do we really need that guy to keep interrupting?
Yes, I think we do.
L-Mo with a cover: 1...2...AND HE GOT HIM!
That was cold, V.
Come on, I need some fun too. L-Mo and Quezzy brawling their way around the crowd. There's that unknown guy in red with yellow lightning bolts. He's got a sign, what does it say?
Iss got an arrow sayin' "This Way To The Toilets".
Does that guy EVER give up? Besides, this joke is so out of date it's embarrassing ME!
Luckily those two aren't following the sign. L-Mo with a vertical suplex, narrowly missing OddJobber. He makes another cover: 1...2...kickout. Quezzy is up. European uppercut. And now he whips L-Mo into the chain-link fence on wheels! I love that bit.
Sure looks impressive, doesn't it?
I'd say so. Quezzy makes a cover: 1...2...kickout. Quite a back-and-forth match. Those canaries are back and making a nice intrusion. One of them just knocked the Cherry Coke out of Quezzy's hand! That can just exploded all over creation.
Why was he holding the can all this time?
Who cares? Quezzy looks frantic. He's trying to scoop up as much as he can back into that aluminum can. L-Mo seizes the opportunity of the distraction. Baseball slide knocks Quezzy off his haunches and he slips to the ground. L-Mo to the top of a conveniently-placed table...SHOOTING STAR PRESS! He hooks the leg: 1...2...3! What a match.
Here is your winner...L-MO!
Quezzy doesn't even seem to care about the outcome. He's going for the Cherry Coke and getting what he can. Is he crying, or is that sweat?
I really think we should leave him alone.
I dunno, I think he cool. Good STWF personality.
I agree with Jamal here. Maybe he's a little obsessed with carbonated beverages, but so what? Okay, now it's time...the STWF Superstar and Subsuperstar Showcase of SUPERCARD IV! Our first match of the evening is a tag team encounter. It's Don't Ask, Don't Tell as they battle the formidable duo *snicker* of OddJobber and StreetMime. Here's Ensign Ben Dover with comments.
Well, boyth, I hope you're jutht ready for thith. Consthidering what you've been through, I'm sure you're already uthed to the pain. Thee you thoon!
Doesn't he sound like...like he's...
Dusty Rhodes, yes we know.
OddJobber and the Hubcapper, StreetMime, are in the ring with no entrance. OddJobber removes his bowler hat and sunglasses, StreetMime removes his beret, and they await their opponents.
Their opponents, the most flamboyant tag team in the STWF today, Ensign Ben Dover and Rear Admiral Dick Groper...DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL!
("In the Navy" by the Village People plays. The sailors make their way to ringside and do some rather odd dancing before the bell.)
Groper to start things off against OddJobber. There's a clothesline sending the Brit to the mat.
I hope dose two sailors go down. Come on StreetMime, get in dere an' show 'em whatchoo gots!
Er...sure, Jamal. You keep up with that spirit. Side Russian legsweep by Groper. The cover: 1...2...shoulder up. So close. Sidewalk slam! The tag to Ben Dover is made. OddJobber scrambles over and tags StreetMime.
He's not winning, Mustafa. It's obvious.
Dover with a missile dropkick. StreetMime is out...
More like Dover is out.
No, StreetMime is definitely the one who took the dropkick. Dover to the top rope, split-leg moonsault! He covers: 1...2...3! This one is over, and quickly. What did you expect from OddJobber and StreetMime? A good match?
Here are your winners, DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL!
And there's a good pop for our sailing duo. A few pats on the butt and a bit more dancing later...and we'll move on to our next match.
But first, let's see some of the results of matches that have already been held.
Gary "the Glutton" Gourmando was scheduled to take on both Renos at once. His intimidation tactics of entering while eating two midgets in effigy proved ineffective. The Renos took it to Gary straight from the bell, eventually slapping on the old "Second Amendment" double standing arm-bar of the Capital Punishers for the win at a time of 8:57.
The Aboriginals defeated the Homeboyz in a "loser buys lunch" origami-folding contest. While the Homeboyz did create some elegant-looking paper pistols that actually worked, the Aboriginals pulled off some crumpling for beautiful paper carnations. Besides, Meatnsaucy knew the Aboriginals didn't have money for lunch, having the Homeboyz pay was a foregone conclusion.
Sweet Candy Andy defeated Friar "Buck" in a back-and-forth contest, eventually nailing the Flying Pimp Slap at 6:09 for the 1-2-3. For his efforts after the match, he was double-teamed by the Friar and Westminster Abby. He'll be fine.
Next up, it's BILL, the nastiest hardcore (recipient) in the STWF, as he kicks it down a notch with Soft Core Zack.
I'd LOVE to see how BILL gets injured this time.
How do y'all know he gonna get injured?
The man is a walking accident. Every time he shows up he gets clobbered, or his skin gets pierced, or he gets singed, or scarred, or something. Why should tonight be any different? Just because it's SUPERCARD IV?
Anything can happen, Vince. You just never know.
This contest is scheduled for one fall. Making his way first, from Ames, Iowa and weighing 262 lbs., here is "SOFT CORE" ZACK!
(The Pat Boone version of "Enter Sandman" plays. Deviance is pushing the Dumpster of Doom.
And his opponent, from Springfield, Illinois, the man, the myth, the legend...BILL!
(The 1812 Overture plays, and BILL comes in to the laser light show, etc. Few people care.)
And Zack goes straight to pick up the Dixie cups from Deviance. He slams back that iced tea and crumples the cup on his head, eventually tossing it at BILL.
Dat's brisk, baby!
Please don't plug stuff unless the STWF starts getting cuts of the money. BILL looks miffed. Chop, chop, whip to the buckle, shoulderblock misses by a mile. Zack's going for the whiffle bat! He's swinging it around like a mother. And he nails BILL with it! BILL actually seems to be enjoying himself. A few pats to the arm and BILL trying his hardest to sell this.
Trust me, it's not easy.
Well he's not doing a half-bad job. Soft Core Zack with a big whiffle to the top of the head and covers: 1...2...no. BILL mounting a comeback now. Vertical suplex.
Zack: Heyyyyy! Quit it, that hurts!
Yes, folks, this is the king of weak-extreme. BILL now has a sanitary toilet seat cover! Where does Zack GET this stuff, anyway?
Would you like an answer, because I know.
No, I don't think I do. BILL takes that seat cover right upside Zack's head. Zack now wearing it like a necklace. Clothesline by BILL and... not even a one-count.
Whatchoo expect, they ain't doin' nothin'.
Zack is up. Deviance trips BILL from the apron. BILL is down. Zack is getting his most notorious piece yet - that disgusting athletic supporter! I think it's time to Smell the Magic!
I think it's time to sick up.
BILL submits even with that athletic supporter a good 18 inches away. He's running in fear...
Uh...here is your winner, as a result of a submission, SOFT CORE ZACK!
Wait, here comes the Right Hand Man...
AND da Rogue?
RHM: Alright, Zack, the Executives have reached a consensus. This jockstrap bit has to go. You're grossing everyone out.
That's right, and this is one of the few times I'm actually agreeing with this moron.
Zack: What? Give up Mr. Jocko? WHY?
RHM: Do you see the audience members passed out over there? That's why. Now give it over, we don't want to have to take it by force.
Zack: Come ON! I spent three hours getting the little happy face perfect!
RHM: Please, Zack, don't make this hard. (beckons hand) come on, give it over.
I've got the gas mask and tongs, I can collect it.
Zack: Fine, you can have this, but you can't stop me from making another one!
RHM: Can't we? We'll have to check the rulebook on that one. In the meanwhile, this one is ours, and it's going into the trash where some fan can pick it up as a collector's item if they can get past the smell.
(The Rogue collects Mr. Jocko and both walk off. Zack starts weeping softly, lip wobbling, and Deviance starts patting him on the shoulder as they walk away.)
At last that disgusting thing is away from us.
We'll see if Zack feels the same way. So what's on tap next, Cap?
It's you vs. Colonel "Pops" Khorne in the arm-wrestling contest. Let's see those arms, Vince.
RIGHT HERE! (pulls off his blazer to reveal a bonerack of a right arm and a left arm that's totally ripped.)
So V, how many times a day do y'all...
Take steroids? Never! This is just a genetic condition. Right arm practically useless, left arm that can stop a bullet. I'll bet Khorne never saw THAT coming. Ha ha!
(he enters the ring. The heavy metal "Pop Goes the Weasel" plays and out comes Col. Khorne. The ref is ready to go.)
Look at Khorne's eyes bug out at the sight of McMadden's arm! It's a good thing the left-handed arm-wrestling stip was added.
But da Colonel, he still pretty strong.
The ref is holding their hands together, going over the rules...and...they're off.
Khorne takes a bit of a lead...he's pressing hard...the veins are popping out of his neck!
McMadden is pressing himself now...he's up past the halfway point and now he's taking the lead. Looks like Col. Khorne won't be getting that weekly interview segment, keeping my segment secure. Khorne making a last-ditch effort, he's struggling, but that gigantic arm is just too much. McMadden wins!
Yeah, boy-eee! Way to knock down a Gallery-ite!
So there, "Pops". Beat you fair and square.
You cheated! I'm saying you cheated because I'm the heel and I have to say you did in any arm-wrestling contest! And now I'm supposed to tip the table over and cheap-shot you!
Boy, does he ever!
Nice. Now go away. (heads back to the announcer's table) Sore loser.
Don't blame him; he's a heel, he has to act like that.
Yes, I know, but does that make it right?
Fair enough. So here's the Pencil-Necked Geek versus Buzz Redwood.
Do I really need to announce these scrub matches? Sheesh. Okay, here's some lumberjack schmoe from Victoria, British Columbia, he's BUZZ REDWOOD!
("I'm a Lumberjack and I'm OK" is cued as Redwood comes, psychotically swinging his axe.)
Yeah. And here's that nerdy guy who heads the Tri-Lambda Group, here's THE PENCIL-NECKED GEEK!
("Beer Barrel Polka" is cued. The Geek comes out, wearing a T-shirt over his normal attire.)
Wass that shirt say?
It says, "f(x,y,z)=x^2+y^2+z^2"
That's one of the limited-edition El Spheros T-shirts, worn all the way back at SUPERCARD II!
Someone's been diggin' in da trash.
Oh, there's a big stockroom full of old shirts. I use a "Mr. Rage" shirt to wash my car.
You have a car? Man, they MUSS be payin' you well.
I think I'll ignore that comment and tell you that the Geek gets the first hit in. It sucked, but it was a hit. Buzz Redwood with a European uppercut. The Geek whips Buzz against the ropes, and a BIG back body drop.
You didn't lengthen the "a" in "back body drop". Isn't it absolutely mandatory?
I think you're right. BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK BODY DROP! How's that?
Buzz Redwood is back up, he picks up the Geek, spinebuster slam! He covers: 1...kickout on two. The Geek looks frustrated. He gives Buzz a spinning heel kick - size 7 1/2, right in the kisser! Nice way to cut a bigger man down to size.
That better not have been a lumberjack pun.
Uh...no, what makes you think that? Geek to the top rope! You must be joking! Big nerd splash, but Buzz rolls out of the way just in time. The Geek is lying motionless. Pulled up by his hair. Buzz Redwood with a few closed fists. Now HE goes to the top rope. Double axehandle! Classic Redwood. He's making the signal...Redwood is going for the "TIMBEEErrrr". Geek is in position...but, no, wait, there's some reversal happening...
Course dere is. Always goes down like dis.
It's the Wrong Homework! Buzz is done. The Geek applying the Sharpened Pencil...the ref is lifting the arms once...twice.....three times! And yes, this one is over and done with thank goodness.
Here is your winner, THE PENCIL-NECKED GEEK!
He just may make a good comeback.
I still don't get what the story is with the El Spheros shirt.
Quiet, or the fans will think there's an angle brewing.
Y'all think it's time fo' mo' results?
Yes, I think it is. Again, we apologize for not being able to display all these matches, but once again, it would be a dreadfully long card otherwise, and we're trying not to disappoint.
Making a return appearance after an uneventful absence, Sugarplum Harry absolutely destroyed Pañales the luchador, who nobody really cared about anyway, and hasn't shown his face much at all. A pillar-to-post beating by the Pixie King, ending in a huge Senton splash and a Nutcracker. It's doubtful Pañales will be returning after such a humiliating defeat.
Percy the Peg-Leg Pirate squared off against Big Baby Hubert. After everyone at ringside was sent back to the locker room, Hubert seemed to lose focus. With no guidance he seemed worse than usual, but still held his own well. He nearly had it won several times, but Percy proved unwilling to surrender, and with an axe kick to the collarbone, followed by a 450-splash, Percy took down the large baby for the 1-2-3. What were the chances you ask? I don't know, Rimshot's not around anymore, he was our man for the Vegas odds.
Flatline defeated Coma after beating him senseless with a squid. Nobody cared except the guy who owned the squid as a pet.
Are we back? I really wished that would take longer. The announcers don't have any time to get to the washroom.
Ain't DAT da truth.
Well you should have gone before we went to air. And if you can't hold it in for the better part of six hours, then I'm sorry. Right now we're going to have some Ladies' specials. First off, an 8-woman tag match. The Renettes will take on the Candygirls.
I cain't wait! Hoo-weee!
Calm yourself, Jamal, what they have is nothing we haven't seen before (if Thursday Something-or-Other #7 was any indication). The identical Renettes are in the ring now, posing on turnbuckles. There's Lacey, and Macey, and Stacey, and who's that last one?
I don't know...Racy?
Moe? OW! Quit slappin' me, you keepin' a brutha down.
Their opponents, from No Fixed Address, New York, here are Gratuitous Tina, Miss Chlamydia, Sunshine, and Gordita, THE CANDYGIRLS!
(Gratuitous Tina's theme song, "I Draw the Ratings", is cued as the girls shimmy their way to ringside. Hoots and hollers pretty much drown everything else out.
They sure are pretty.
WHAT? I can't hear you with all the noise!
No, they ain't boys, they girls!
I'm sorry I said anything.
It's Sunshine to start things as she takes on Stacey. A lot of grappling happening, but nothing remotely technical...
Send those letters to Jamal Tupac Mustafa, care of...
Like anyone watching this can write. Sunshine with a hair pull and toss, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. Stacey puts on a Camel Clutch, but Sunshine is able to tag in Miss Chlamydia.
She really looks rather sickly, doesn't she? Not something I'd want to put near MY <-CENSORED FOR YOUR OWN GOOD->.
Aw, Cap, that's not a mental picture I needed. Stacey making short work of Miss Chlamydia, and tags in Lacey. Double DDT and now the catfighting continues.
There's some hits or something, I'm getting a little distracted here. Miss Chlamydia goes down! There's a cover: 1...2...Gordita makes the save. The ref admonishing the Candygirls. Meanwhile, the Renettes are ganging up on that poor woman.
Truss me, if she hooked up wit da Candyman, she AIN'T poor. He got bidniss skills. He knows marketing.
I'm sure he does. But those Candygirls just broke through the ref's lecturing barrier! This match is out of control! Hair whipping around everywhere, and there's that hooting and hollering again!
HOWL! Oh baby, let's see some skin!
Oh, really, Mustafa, it's not that big a deal.
I think there's been a double-DQ. Let's go to Announcer Lad for the official word!
Ladies and gentlemen, because of this great display, the winners of this match...THE AUDIENCE!
(The audience starts cheering itself for having won a match and not doing anything)
The audience, your winners, thus improving its official win/loss record to 1-6.
I don't know where you got that statistic, Cap, but it sounds about right. Next, another ladies' match, we'll see Tiffany Lane take on Sister Deloris.
This contest is set for one fall. Making her way to the ring, from Beverly Hills, California and weighing in at 120 lbs., accompanied by Nina Laroue, here is TIFFANY LANE!
("Miss World" by Hole plays. Some of the crowd still seem into it, but the rest just seem very sleepy after witnessing that 8-woman tag. Maybe they'll be a little perkier in fifteen minutes or so.)
Tiffany: Would you like to see "the behind"?
Crowd: WE'VE ALREADY SEEN IT, BUT THANKS ANYWAY!
Nina: Wasn't expecting THAT response.
Her opponent, one-half of the former Sisters of the Joint Rosary, and accompanied by Mr. Planters, here is...SISTER DELORIS!
("Jesus Loves Me" on acoustic guitars plays. Deloris doesn't seem to be wearing anything at all underneath a really long string of rosary beads. Mr. Planters is doing the "Elvis Point" with his walking stick.)
Sister Deloris runs in and applies a hammerlock. Tiffany Lane is on her toes...
Quick! Now I can see up her dress.
She's not WEARING a dress, moron.
On closer inspection, you right.
Uh huh. Tiffany switches up the hammerlock. Deloris with a hiptoss, and here's a dragon sleeper by the nun. Tiffany reaches up blindly and smacks Deloris' nose with the ridge of her hand. That nose could very well be broken, Deloris is holding it....blood? No.
I guess juicing will have to wait.
Yes, there's still a good number of matches yet to happen. Tiffany is up, headscissor takedown! The crowd applauds a great move.
I t'ink dey were applauding dat dey could see up her dress.
You know, putting Gary Gourmando in that seat seems like a better idea all the time.
Please don't. I saw what he put inside those effigy midgets he was eating.
Okay, fine, but you owe me one, Cap. Tiffany Lane with a legdrop. She gets up and starts rubbing her leg - those rosary beads can't be comfortable. Deloris gets up. Short clothesline by the nun. 1...and that's all she's getting.
Do you think she'd function better if she had her "companion", Sister Muffy, at ringside?
I honestly don't have a clue. Mr. Planters is hitting on Nina Laroue at ringside, making motions to his big...hat.
Aw, she knows betta; it ain't da size of da hat, iss how you put it on yo' head.
Nina just pushed Mr. Planters and it's a small brawl here at ringside. Mr. Planters won't hit Nina back! The ref is watching the show and ignoring the happenings in the ring. Deloris is choking out Tiffany Lane with her rosary beads! Tiffany can't even scream! Okay, she's let go now, but Tiffany Lane is panting and on her knees.
... Naw, too easy.
Wow! First BILL walks out without an injury, now Jamal not going for the easy jokes? What is going on here today? Sister Deloris slaps on the Purgatory! She covers: the ref isn't there to make the count! She's slapping the mat, but the ref is enjoying watching Nina slap Mr. Planters a few more times.
She really doesn't take getting hit on lightly.
Tiffany Lane has just reversed it! NOW the ref for some reason turns around. 1...2...reversal again! 1...2...3! Close, but Tiffany Lane walks out defeated.
Here is your winner, SISTER DELORIS!
Wait, here's the Mason again! He's arguing with the ref about the illegal tactics. He's even paid Chet to show the replay!
He MUST be rich.
The ref considering it...and he's reversing his decision.
Okay, scratch that...here's your winner, as a result of a disqualification, TIFFANY LANE!
I don't know what the Mason is trying to pull here.
It's obvious, V.
He's just helping out the local females. It's an honour thing. Where have those values gone? Everyone knew chivalry in MY day. And Hershey bars only cost a nickel!
Oh, quit living in the past. What are you having for dinner tomorrow?
Liver and onions, same as I always have that day of the week.
I tink iss time to move on, V.
Yes, we'll just let the Mason try his courting practices in peace. And now, since Mr. Planters is already out here, let's have his match against...(shuffles papers) B.F. Sack? Is this right? Mr. Planters, tiny-manager-turned-quasi-wrestler, taking on a TWO-TIME STWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION?!
Uh...StreetMime beats Executioner?
BILL escapes injury for one day?
You're right, if it's Nae Prrredictable, it's STWF!
I haven't heard you say that in ages!
And what better time than SUPERCARD IV to bring it back?
The opponent of Mr. Planters, who is now making his way to the ring... from Panama City, Florida...weighing 282 pounds...from the Hubcap Gang, he is...B.F. SACK!
(The theme from Sanford and Son plays. Everyone stares in awe at Sack's return. One guy starts clapping. Then another. And so on, in that cheesy Hollywood manner until the crowd gives a big pop finally.)
Planters is still a little shaken from the slaps he received from Nina Laroue. B.F. Sack with a kneelift. Now he bounces off the ropes and tries a kneedrop, but Mr. Planters rolled away. Planters with a bearhug...
Who's he kidding?
Sack puts an elbow right into the shell. Two more elbows, Irish whip, he holds up a foot and Mr. Planters predictably runs right into it! Because when you're jogging around a ring, there's no WAY you can slow your momentum, or even block with your hands.
It really is.
It is? Okay, you two have more wrestling experience than I do. Sack makes the cover: 1...2...kickout! Mr. Planters sends B.F. Sack for the ride, leapfrogs Sack, now ducks down, then gives Sack the exact same big foot!
Yes, quite a back-and-forth match.
Too much "forth" and not enough "back", in my 'pinion.
Um...yeah. Planters taking some offensive now. Jawbreaker by Mr. Planters! He hooks the leg: 1...2...so close.
Being catapulted out of da ring by a kickout is "so close"?
Sure, why not? Sack bounces off the ropes opposite the entryway...he jumps onto the ropes for a springboard plancha! He loses his footing and winds up straddling the top rope.
That would be the ring rust showing its colours.
Sack gets back in the ring and shakes it off. Mr. Planters enters the ring as the ref reaches 7 in his count. Planters tries a hit, blocked by Sack, and Sack gets a hit of his own. Atomic drop by Sack. And a reverse DDT! I think Planters is out cold. Why is B.F. Sack grabbing a mic?
Sack: Now, I'll let the audience choose my finisher. Would you like...the SackHammer?
(crowd gives a pop)
Or...the Domino Effect?
(crowd gives a bigger pop)
Okay, there you go.
What a great idea. Why don't other wrestlers let the audience choose their finisher?
Dude, the walls have ears. Shut up.
Sack has just slapped on the Domino Effect! Planters is already done. Look at that. That's just sad. The ref is saying this match is over.
Here is your winner...B.F. SACK!
Is it results time yet?
Yes, I think it is. There's also an interview with ThatGuy regarding his upcoming "Pin-the-Chicken" match with Mittens.
"Flash" Flanagan vs. Arnold: Flanagan gave it his all here. Unfortunately, Arnold didn't ever quit. He kept kicking out, raising the shoulder, or reaching the ropes. Arnold, and even Walter, didn't get many offensive opportunities. The match was all "Flash", but in the end, a time-limit draw. Well, Flanagan wasn't too happy about that, and expressed his rage by saying he didn't need wins when he can book himself to win in his own fed.
(Hope you've got a sense of humour, Flash.)
Tyrone Mayhem and the Organ Grinder vs. Hector "Crude" Oil and Très Sheik: Well, Mayhem and the Grinder had their work cut out for them as the powerful Oil and the stylish Sheik dominated early in the match. Oil's endurance wore down, however, due to clever teamwork on the part of the Inner Circle-ites. A lot of quick tags and legal double-teams had Crude exhausted in no time. Hector once had an opportunity to make the "hot tag", but the Sheik would have none of it, and jumped off the apron. As Tyrone Mayhem applied the Smackdown, the match was over. After the match, this happened. Let's watch:
I don't know, but it can't be good. They're entering the ring, and so is Très Sheik! All three of them, putting the boots to "Crude" Oil!
So it's official? Sheik is joining Grampa's Old Boys?
Jeffrey: No, you meshoogana, we're leaving it! Sheik is leaving the Gallery. We've decided we can take on anyone our OWN way! So let us introduce...THE MID-EAST ALLIANCE!
Sheik: And as for you Rogue, you can take this Gallery and your prize pet douja, and stick them! I've always been too elegant for this stable.
Irving: And if you're not down with the Mid-East Alliance, I've got one word for you! Wait...does "faygala" still work? Oy. Let's just get going before the stables we abandoned come to kick our tuchases.
It would appear that the Old Boys' Network isn't around either. I'm not Middle Eastern, so I'm amiably breaking off from Grampa's Old Boys. I need to stay objective as a commentator anyway.
What a development! What else could happen?
(The common room at the Asylum. Once again, ThatGuy is playing chess, or an unreasonable facsimile, with the man who looks like he was buried at the beach. You now know him as Hack because of his awful cough.)
ThatGuy: Pawn to D6...
Hack: You sunk my Battleship! *cough* *cough*
ThatGuy: Okay, well that was fun, but are these games ALWAYS supposed to take five hours? I have important things to eat or fondle!
Kamera Kid: Ahem.
ThatGuy: Ooh, there's an important thing to eat or fondle now! Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!
Kamera Kid: Oh no you don't. Here, take this sulphuric acid and start talking. I've got a few more stops to make today.
(ThatGuy starts guzzling the acid. He then breaks the bottle over Hack's head.) Mmm...tangy!
Hack: Do you know how HARD it is to get glass shards out of sand? Thanks a lot! *hack* *cough*
Kamera Kid: You. Mittens. Pin-the-Chicken match. Thoughts?
Kamera Kid: Care to share them?
ThatGuy: No. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!
Kamera Kid: Okay, can you just do that waggly-finger bit and yell "You're Not Safe!" a lot then?
ThatGuy: Sure. (waggles finger in his mouth)...Mittens?
You're not safe!
You're Not Safe!!
YOU'RE NOT SAFE!!!
Kamera Kid: Beautiful.
Well that nicely wasted a lot of time.
Boy, did it ever! Did you find the washroom alright then?
Yes, but I still hate feeling rushed.
Moving right along, it's a Pin-the-Chicken match as ThatGuy takes on Mittens. You can see the chickenwire all around the ring now, so the chicken doesn't escape. Or either of our competitors.
This is a Pin-the-Chicken contest, and is set for one chicken fall. Making his way first, accompanied by Grampa, he weighs in at something really high indeed, and he's from Portland, Oregon...MITTENS!
("Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" plays. Mittens lumbers to ringside, and flicks his beanie propeller to make it spin.)
Awww, isn't that cute?
Ahem! His opponent, from Parts Unknown and weighing in at 266 1/2 lbs. (cheers), accompanied by Hack, here is ThatGuy!
(Big pop for the legendary ThatGuy. Sure he hardly ever makes appearances, so what? The Wheelbarrow Man is absent today. ThatGuy is wheeling in Hack because the sand needs to stay in one place to keep his kayfabe. He's supposed to be made of sand, you know.)
And now, here's a ring attendant with the chicken!
It a real chicken! I was hopin' fo' da Doomsday Chicken.
Please don't bring him up again. He might be back.
I hope he DOES come back, I liked that chicken's style.
Let the hilarity commence! Both men running after the chicken, but it's tough work, that's one fast chicken! ThatGuy bumps into Mittens, who seems to take offense. ThatGuy with a swinging neckbreaker! Listen to that crowd. Mittens falls. The chicken resting on top of him. The ref counts: 1...then remembers the chicken can't pin anyone.
Well dat woulda been embarrassin'...bein' pinned by a chicken.
How's that embarrassing? I lost to a chicken in two-out-of-three falls back in '51. And he was a worthy competitor, I was honoured to have fought him.
You know, Cap, the more I learn about you, the less I want to know. ThatGuy makes a dive...narrowly missing the fowl. The chicken is flapping about, a mess of feathers. Mittens picks up the chicken and starts shaking it...he just got pecked in the ear! Mittens has just been pecked in the ear!
Is that Tyson's chicken?
Mittens is bleeding, folks, and he looks on the verge of swearing up a storm. ThatGuy getting in a few more cheap shots. Mittens levels ThatGuy with a massive forearm.
There's no manners in that!
Mittens bounces off the ropes...ouch! He got snagged in the chickenwire. ThatGuy still chasing the chicken around. Baseball slide and the hen has been stunned. ThatGuy is making the signal...Hideous Claw Bite on the chicken!
You can't beat the chicken by submission! This is strictly pinfall.
The insane man doesn't seem to care. Hack still coughing up a lung at ringside. Yes, folks, he's there and he's not doing much of anything. But I needed to mention him or else you'd forget.
How could we fo'get? You HEAR dis guy coughin'? Damn!
You're right, it IS annoying. ThatGuy powerbombs the chicken! Feathers everywhere! Mittens gets off the chickenwire but I think it's too late! ThatGuy hooks the leg: 1...2...he's pinned the chicken!
Here is your winner, ThatGuy!
Mittens still worried about his ear. Grampa comes up and tries to console him. Mittens just shoved Grampa off the apron!
Grampa: Mittens, mind your manners!
Mittens: Screw manners! Where did they get Mittens? They didn't get me nowhere! I don't need YOU, I don't need your stupid Boys, I don't need anyone! So says Mittens the Mannerless.
Oh no! Mittens just spat in Grampa's eye and stalks away! He pushes aside Arnold and Implosion on his way out. Scythe trying to stop him but reconsiders. SHC are picking up Grampa and escorting him away, wiping the tears from his eyes.
Grampa's Boys is fallin' apart. He lost da OBN, now Mittens! Is da stable doomed?
It very well could be, Jamal.
Ah, he'll survive. Old people know how to manage.
How about a tag team confrontation? That oughta liven things up, wouldn't you say?
No, I wouldn't say.
Tag teams are only around for tradition. How else can you explain Judy Bagwell being a champion? Sorry, but egos have killed them.
WHAT? How can you say that, Cap? You, person who loves all tradition? Can you not enjoy a tag team contest?
Fine. I like them. So tough. It's the Circus Freaks versus Dr. Snare and Ricky "DOOM" Johnson. Can Dr. Snare break out of his DQ streak?
And get a bonafide loss? Less hope so.
What makes you think they're going to lose?
You really should come to rehearsals, Cap. They get you nice and prepared.
This tag team contest is thankfully set for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied by Kandi, here are Ricky "DOOM" Johnson and "the Master of the DQ" DR. SNARE!
("Squeeze Toy" by the Boomtang Boys plays. Why? Who knows, but we promise to take that tape away from Vic as soon as we can. A pop for these two that's about a tenth what they get in their RPs. How much are they paying the plants to pop for them, anyway?)
And their opponents, from Parts Unknown, with a total combined weight (as if a combined weight isn't a total already...) of 561 lbs., here are Dizzy Desi and Sasquatch, THE CIRCUS FREAKS!
(The ominous calliope big-top music squeaks out. Lots of pop for the three-time champs. Dizzy Desi starts "raising the roof" before he's told that that move is no longer in vogue. So he hits his head with his hammer instead. Nobody objects.)
Dizzy Desi starts off with Ricky Johnson. He's the man!
Who, Johnson? Or Dizzy D?
Yes! DOOM and Dizzy lock up. DOOM with an armtrag takedown - how typical. Dizzy jumps back up and does a backflip kick. That caught Ricky off guard. He staggers back. Double-D with a tornado punch right on the temple. DOOM is down. The cover: 1...2...no. Dizzy is up. He's going for a gross-out tactic... DOOM seems slightly uncomfortable, but not totally unfazed.
Well you seen his wife Minerva...
What, Minerva's good looking...
Well you gots ta see these pictures then.
My, that IS unnerving!
Gentlemen, PLEASE! Focus here. DOOM is now in control. Gourdbuster by Ricky Johnson leaves a spot of ooze on the mat. 1...2...Dizzy just barely kicked out of that one. Johnson with a Stun Gun! Now he's getting into it.
Shall I go into his college football history? I've got a lot of obscure stats right here...
No thanks. People could care less about wrestler's football history.
Would it interest you to know that Sasquatch is a Certified General Accountant?
Yeah! He is?
Sure that's interesting. Is he?
No. But just testing to see what interests you.
DOOM tags in Dr. Snare. He might want to tread carefully if he wants to snap that dreadful DQ streak. Then again, he'd lose his "DQ King" title.
Your point being?
I'm a commentator, I don't have "points". I just sit here and say what's going on, and plug stuff when I can. Snare whips Dizzy against the ropes, he tries a roll-up on the backbounce, but Dizzy grabs a firm hold of the ropes and shakes him off. And here comes Sasquatch! The crowd is popping.
(cut to a crowdshot of a guy in a Boba Fett mask with a "May the Force Be With You Sasquatch" sign)
Sasquatch not without his fans, certainly. Sasquatch roars in Dr. Snare's face. Snare hangs on to his hockey mask just in case. Headbutt by Snare. That mask must be painful as a foreign object. Is that even legal?
Why not? D-Lo's pectoral pads were.
What's a Dee-Lo?
Wasn't that the group that sang "Groove is in the Heart"? Anyway. Sasquatch picks up Snare and there's a neck hang. The ref counts 1-2-3-4 and Sasquatch lets go. Samoan Drop by the hairy beast with the 36-inch feet. There's a cover: 1...2...no. Snare is up. He steps on Sasquatch's feet with a big boot. Sasquatch doesn't even notice! Snare is thrust away with a foot to the chest. Look at the Docta fly.
I'm sure when you have feet that big, the nerve endings are nicely spaced apart. Snare just got unlucky.
Snare rallies with a shoulder. Sasquatch is down. The cover: 1...2...no. Sasquatch is pulled up by the hair.
Can y'all be mo' specific? Sasquatch is hairy all over!
Okay, the hair on his face. Sasquatch seems angry at that. Big paw slap to the chest. Belly-to-back suplex by the Big Hairy Machine! He's going to the top rope! I think it's...yes, it's the Saskatchewan Stomp! CRUNCH! I doubt very highly Dr. Snare will get up from that.
There's the cover: 1...2...3 and this one is totally done.
Don't read my lines.
But I get so few.
YOU get so few?
The winners of this contest, THE CIRCUS FREAKS!
Okay! See, was that so bad?
(hangs head) No, V.
We're sorry to have doubted you, Vince.
Yeah, that's right! Just don't let it happen again. Now, are we ready for a triangle match?
*groan* Ugh...triangle match?
Those are even worse than tag matches.
Live with it. Now look perky, because we're going to have to go through with this one. And we'll try to make it a good one. Right? Right!
This is a triangle match - aw, man! - and is set for two eliminations. Bachelor #1 hails from Aberdeen, Scotland, his hobbies include secretly controlling large organizations, Morris Dancing, and cute young chicks with Beverly Hills attitudes. He's the Mason!
("Spanish Flea" by Herb Alpert (I believe) plays. The Mason enters the ring and blows a kiss.)
Bachelor #2, he's from Birmingham, England. He enjoys pink doughnuts, collecting Spice girls merchandise, and big cars that drive on the left side of the road. He's Anarchy!
("Spanish Flea" keeps playing. He enters the ring, winks, and "shoots" the audience with a finger-gun.)
And of course, Bachelor #3. His interests are getting hammered for no reason at all, the occasional joint, and "pull my finger" jokes. He's DEATH!
("Spanish Flea" keeps on going. Death appears in the ring in a cloud of purple smoke, and makes a motion toward his large...biceps.)
Death: So what's this, we're not competing for a date with Nurse Heidi?
Anarchy just nailed Death in the head!
I have to admit, Cap, that intro was confusing. And Anarchy isn't really a bachelor, is he? He's engaged, right?
Aw, who knows. I sho' don't.
What a surprise. The Mason and Anarchy double-teaming Death. Maybe they see him as a threat. Death is struggling to get up, but when you've got two big men like that breathing down your neck, it's pretty difficult. Anarchy just turned and clocked the Mason! Those two going at it now, Death gets up, sunset flip on Anarchy. 1...2...whoa, almost caught the Brummie off guard there.
I'll say. (pause) What? That's a full line? Get out of here!
Hey, it was late, and I was tired, you try writing a script sometime. Oh, right, you did. Somebody sprouted wings in that match.
More creative dan YOUR drivel, V.
I won't argue, Jamal, it doesn't suit me. The Mason now attacking Death. The Mason with a Doctor Bomb. He covers: 1...2...no.
Anarchy tries to cover Death: 1...2...the Mason pulls him off, which doesn't make sense because this is set for two eliminations! The Mason and Anarchy going at it once again. Anarchy with a bodyslam and a guillotine legdrop.
I have a bad feeling this match could go on forever.
I can fix that. Want me to?
Would you please?
No problem. (hums a merry tune. The sound of a marker squeaking much like in a Picture Pages segment is heard offscreen as all three men are shown engaged in a triple reverse-chinlock.
Wait for it...
Some gigantic man in metal armor and four arms just appeared out of nowhere, like a jumpcut!
This match is over. I am Deus. Full name Deus X. Masheena. I end the matches that have no good ending. And I have come to put a merciful end to this.
Deus X. Masheena picks up all three men at once...TRIPLE CHOKESLAM! Masheena bows and disappears after another jumpcut. The ref is counting out all three men.
Deus X. Masheena. I like that, Vince, I really do.
I don't get it.
And why would you.
Ladies and gentlemen, all three men have been counted out. Nobody wins the trip to the Bahamas with some slutty chick who obviously couldn't get a date by conventional means.
Death: If I knew there was a trip, I would have tried harder. *Mooooaaaaaaaan....*
Well, wasn't that exciting? Okay, we have to take a short intermission now, but we'll be back soon! Stick around, you might learn something!
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre
No he didn't.
What are the Chosen Ones doing, coming to ringside?