Monday Nae Trous
Monday Nae Trous - Yes, again!

En español donde sea disponible!

(Pan interior of the Slobberknocker Arena. The STWF Girls, Der Kommissaar's present from the Inner Circle, dance to start the show. They then realize they haven't been paid since they got here, and walk off. Girl Friday takes the opportunity and starts "dancing" to start the show. The pyro guys have the sparklers and flare guns, as always.)
WELCOME, WELCOME, WELCOME! This is going to be one amazing Monday Nae Trous! The tag belts go on the line as Milwaukee's Best battle the Techie Salesmen from Hell! The Crew will face Los Mexicanos Nondescriptos! Oni-San makes his debut, and the Rogue has actually scheduled some time here! Mira Maniac will fight Pimp of the Year! And who could forget, B.F. Sack defending his belt against a member of the Entertainment Industry, who we believe is going to be Gruff! But first, we have something ELSE to deal with!
("Insane in the Brain" by Cypress Hill blares over the PA. The wheelbarrow man with the paper bag over his head brings the infamous ThatGuy to the ring. The crowd chants "You're Not Safe". ThatGuy is over, even if he wrestles like four times a year.)
(Crowd goes ballistic)
Okay, okay. Calm down. I have another purpose in mind. ZEBULON! Get yourself down here pronto! We've got to chat.
(He comes to the ring, looking confused. The mongoose is in a cage.)
Okay, Zebulon. I've been getting a few complaints around here. You're not living up to the Asylum name! Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! We've already got a coal miner here. And he's doing great. What have you done?! Nothing! So I'll make you a little deal. You beat me, in the ring, right now, and you can stay, and hey, maybe a little push too. But....if I beat YOU, you will be on probation from the Asylum, for 30 days. Clear?

Zebulon: Yeah, whutever, let's just get this done with.
***bell rings.
I didn't even get a chance to introduce to you my colleague, Captain Twilight! But I suppose you already know him.
Well, not any new viewers. ThatGuy locks up with Zebulon. OH NO! The Hideous Finger Bite has been applied right away!
ThatGuy wasting no time at all in taking down the Asylum's second coal miner. Zebulon has nowhere to go, and nowhere to hide! The blood is spilling right now, and I doubt Zebulon doesn't want a finger loss. He submits!
How very odd. One finger, or thirty days. ThatGuy is a harsh judge.
I think Judge is a harsh judge, but the Forces of Justice, who knows where they are.
Probably looking for a new angle.
We've got plenty more action. El Presidente is coming down with Los Mexicanos Nondescriptos now.
And their opponents, from Los Angeles, California, with a combined weight of 597 lbs., here are John Whopper and Chris Fry, THE CREW!
("Eat It" plays. The two fast-food workers enter to a mixed reaction.)

***bell rings.
Chris Fry starts with Julio. Julio with an armdrag takedown. Fry reverses, and here's a hammerlock. Fry maneuvers his way around, and Julio is now on the mat. The cover: El Presidente is angry that Julio nearly got pinned so quickly. Fry with a legdrop. Another cover: Fry with a DDT! Fry tags in John Whopper. A quick two-on-one double vertical suplex. Julio is in sorry shape right now. John takes him to the top buckle, SUPERPLEX! The cover: 1...2...Julio just barely gets the shoulder up! El Presidente is calling for the tag to be made. Julio makes it. Here comes José! He gives Whopper a dropkick. Fry enters the ring only to receive a Frankenondescriptos hurricanrana! Whopper's back, he gets a Frankenondescriptos!
José is a house of fire!
More like a house of cards: he'll topple any second. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!
ThatGuy! What are YOU doing here?
Might as well do some commentating while I'm here. Any complaints?
Who, me? Never. Whopper is back in, a good grappling session is underway. José with a chickenwing. Whopper whips around and reverses it! He pushes José to the buckle. Small package! 1...2...kickout. Whopper pulls him to the top rope, it looks like, yes! The Whopper (TM) Drop!
That's one impressive powerslam.
The Circus Freaks can beat those guys any day of the week, they're nothing special.
That remains to be seen, but right now, the ref is counting 1...2...3! The Crew with a major upset over the former two-time champions!
Upset? Los Mexicanos Nondescriptos don't have any talent at all!
Well, that's your opinion, I'll just leave it out there.
He's cramming those nasty fries down José's throat. Disgusting. They head off to the locker room, but El Presidente is staying put. Pepe the Mexican Midget is up next; he'll be battling newcomer Oni-San.
I've heard a lot of good things about the ogre. Pepe isn't to be overlooked though. He used to be my wheelbarrow man.
Interesting. Pepe is in the ring with his sombrero and serape. He takes them off and hands them to the ring attendant as Oni-San makes his entrance.
And his opponent, accompanied by Sasuke, from Osaka, Japan, weighing 185 lbs., ONI-SAN!
(The staccato guitar strums start playing as a short Japanese man in a tuxedo carrying a Japanese flag accompanies a slightly taller athlete wearing all red, and a red mask with two yellow horns sticking out of it.)

Has Psycosis gone Wölfpac?
Hey! Quit that! The ref is checking the boots as the...
***bell rings.
Oni-San is pretty small at 5'5", but Pepe is only 4'1", so Oni-San will pretty much have the only height advantage of his life. Oni-San with a reverse knife-edge chop. A spinning roundhouse gives Pepe some good air!
You know, if Pepe didn't abandon me, I'd want to be in there helping him out. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!
The ogre with a kneedrop. He takes Pepe to the top rope...monkey flip! Pepe sails through the air again. Oni-San manages to catch him and a backbreaker pretty much seals this match shut.
Normally, I'd agree with you, but Mexico Unlimited are a sneaky bunch. They're liable to do anything to get that win.
So is Oni-San, what's your point?
Who remembers? I'm old. What was the question?
Oni-San with the cover: 1...2...Oni-San pulls him back up! What arrogance! The crowd is starting a "U-S-A!" chant, but that doesn't make sense, because neither one of these guys is American!

Where's Stealth Bomber when you need him? He was pretty patriotic.
Pepe is out cold, but Oni-San's still going strong. He's going to the top and making a few poses...WOW! A kamikaze dive, did you see that?!
Yes, of course! We're right here, and not blind.
Huh? Oh sorry, I was getting a drink, what happened?
ThatGuy, if you're going to commentate, pay attention. And get that bottle of sulphuric acid, you're going to get someone hurt! Er, I mean, please, have a seat. We're about to get to the next match.
That's it, Vince, appease the madman, and nobody gets a finger bitten off.
Here is your winner, ONI-SAN!
They're waving the flag in the ring to many boos. Okay, I think they've had enough. Besides, the Rogue wants some time, and this will take a while, so be patient, boys. Remember, the comments of the Rogue are not necessarily those of the Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/ Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre, we the announcers, or everyone else, pretty much.
(The gallery is approaching to the ring to a round of boos and hisses. Fans are throwing popcorn on them, and Col. Khorne is throwing it back! The Rogue looks very serious, and the Indestructibles look terribly dejected, their eyes on the floors.)
This is the first time the Rogue has addressed the crowd in some time now.
He has been noteworthy in his absence....
Well, he says that tonight he'll announce the reason of his absence, and knowing the Rogue, it'll be a big one....
Hello again, my inferior little plebeians! How does it feel to be so low? That is something I'll never know!
(Fans boo hysterically)
Looks like he's stealing a page out of Lanny Poffo's book.
(Fans throw in Poffo frisbees at the Gallery. One fan grabs into his Berzerker tote bag, pulls out the Genius' metal scroll, and hits Très Sheik in the head, causing a bloody wound)
Long time no see, and I think that's a good thing!
(More boos)
Ok folks, I haven't been very active with the gallery lately, and I know you all appreciate that because you do not seem to appreciate how my Gallery-ites beat up on the other wrestlers of the STWF. In fact, you seem to be disgusted by it. Well, you punks will be VERY DISGUSTED in the weeks to come, cause I'm back, and when MISTER NUMERO UNO's back, baby, he's on the ATTACK! Ha-LA!!!
I've been away for awhile, so I have a lot to talk about, and you all know that when you're number one, there's so much to get done!
(Boos galore)
Ok, the first order of business is to discuss the state of my wrestlers. First of all, Très Sheik. Now Très is one helluva wrassler, and he's a man to be reckoned with. Now, he hasn't had much success in the ring lately, but that's because I've been busy with other things. Now I'm back, and there's nothing stopping the Exorbitant Arab now! Tell 'em about it, Très!

Sheik: Listen, I'm fed up!!! One thing I hate is that pathetic inner-city trash Tyrone Mayhem! People like that I have the utmost disgust for! I'm willing to bet that that bum has never worn sequins in his entire life! You're one more of a long line of slobs and poverty-stricken tramps who are making the STWF filthy. Tyrone, if I looked like you, I wouldn't! I'm challenging your squalid posterior to a match, and you're going to finally realize why I'm superior, and you, like the fans, are inferior! Ha-LA!
Everybody, tell me this: Who's sweeter than the Sheik?
Ok, now onto the King of "Pops!", Col. Khorne. This is one man who knows what it's like to issue some punishment. As a former ICCTINACBBIC champ, and a war vet, he's been in battles that would put George Chuvalo to shame! Well, he's got his sights on a new enemy now, the Tibetan Monk!

Is he still around?
Shhh...I'm trying to read.
Pops: That's right. Now I have nothing against you personally, Monk, cause I ain't never touched you. But whenever I get my sights set on a slant-eyes, it takes me back to 'Nam, and I want to repay the pain I felt in that bloody battle. You people are backwards! You probably have never even tasted popcorn before, and that goes against all the middle-American morals that I've been raised to love and that I fought to preserve! You Buddhists should go back to where you belong, instead of infiltrating our Judeo-Christian society with your voodoo ways and telling people like myself that we should be annihilated!
(The crowd, 97% Judeo-Christian, boos)
Now when I get my hands on you, Sweet Candy Khorne's gonna give you a POP! you'll never forget! You pick a time, you pick the place, you pick the rules, and I'll beat your shaved head back into the mountains! Ha-La!
That's right! Like always, when Pops gets hold of 'em, he gives them a Crack, and leaves 'em with Jack! Now for the Aboriginals. Tell the bums who had to mortgage their house for their tickets, who's your next victim?
A1: (eyes glazed over, eyelids looking heavy, mouth open confusingly): .....
Well, what he's trying to say is that the Inevitables are next on the itinerary, and once we...I mean they beat them, they're going straight to the top! Monsieur Therriault, you took the land away from these people, sent them to a reservation to drink themselves silly, and gave them one too many Tom Jackson CBC specials. What do they have to show for their lives? A provincial tax credit and a hangover, that's what! Don't you feel the least bit guilty?!? You owe them, Monsieur Therriault, you owe them BIG! The next MNT, these boys are gonna whip your asses! And Harbinger of Death, they ain't scared of you, cause to the Aboriginals, the body is just a prison for the soul, and death would be a blessing for these two!
Finally, I want to talk to the Indestructibles. Now I'll talk slow so maybe you'll get it.
(boos. One fan throws in his "Hulk Hogan's Rock `n' Wrestling" colouring book inside the ring. Junkyard Dog is coloured-in mauve)
Now you two were unstoppable, indestructible when I brought you here! Look at you now: pathetic, miniature versions of your former selves. I arranged the matches, got you title shots, and you embarrassed me! You stupid idiots failed to inform me to your allergy to gold! You know what happens when you embarrass MISTER NUMERO UNO? You pay the price! Now, as a fair and sympathetic man, I will give you one shot at redemption. You want to know why I was absent? Do you? I'll tell you. I was looking for a new, powerful tag-team to replace you two in the Gallery. Here's the scenario: You get one match against my new combo. You win, you're with the Gallery. You lose, you're out. Any questions?

Duane Diamond D: Yeah, who are the team?
Ladies and Gentlemen, um, I mean, Sluts and Bums, and Trash of the Trailers: I, the Rogue, am ecstatic to introduce to you the newest members of the Gallery, making their STWF debut, from Hitsville USA, Rhythm and Blues!
("Dancin' in the Streets" by Martha and the Vandelas play. Two black guys with big afros and sideburns enter, dancing in perfect synchrony. They wear pink Spandex boxer shorts with the letters "R&B" on the back.)
The ref is shrugging, but I guess it's on!
***bell rings.
The smaller guy - smaller, he's 6'6"! - starts with "Crushing" Chris Powell. I've just been informed that the one in the ring is Rhythm. Reverse DDT straight off the bat! Well, Powell hasn't been the same since he got the tag gold, but remember way back when, he was phenomenal!
Times change, Angus. It seems around here getting the gold is the highlight to a future jobbing career.
No, that's just coincidence! The Circus Freaks are doing well, the Vegas Connection seem primed for another reign, Col. Khorne just might pull off a few upsets...
That's it, Vince, keep lying to yourself.
Piledriver by Rhythm! Powell is laid out. Rhythm forces Powell to make the tag. Duane Diamond D looks ready to go.
Yeah? Well, we'll see. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!
Duane is taking a massive beating. Backbreaker! Powerbomb! Rhythm unrelenting, and we've yet to see what the bigger guy can do! Both Indestructibles are out cold. Rhythm is shaking his groove thing, as it were, and makes the tag to the massive Blues.
Blues gets the tag, jumps up on the top buckle, and Frog Splash! Duane Diamond D is in serious trouble, and the Rogue is grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. A fallaway slam by Blues now.
Oh for Pete's sake, we know you're good, just finish it already!
Blues in Boston Crab set-up, wait! He just used Diamond's legs as leverage, for a spectacular back-flip! Duane's in for rib surgery, that's for sure. That move we just witnessed is called the Blues breaker. The tag back to Rhythm, and oh my, what are they going to do NOW?! Rhythm is picking up Duane in a full-nelson. Blues dives at Duane's legs, he's wrenching them like a corkscrew!
Blues: Sing the blues, baby, sing the blues!
Duane submits, and seals his team's fate.
Fairies and fools: MY winners, Elwood P. Rhythm, C.P. Blues; Rhythm and Blues! As you can plainly see, this is why we're the Power, baby, cause we rule the World!!! HA-LA!
I guess that's it for the Indestructibles.
It was over a long time ago for them! The Rogue doesn't accept pathetic losing for long, and he's got himself a team now that looks tough to beat! What do you think of R&B, Vince?
Well, I've got a couple Puff Daddy albums....
No, the TEAM!
Well, they were impressive! We'll have to wait and see if the Rogue can help them eclipse the accomplishments of the Indestructibles, though.
That's one mean feat!
We've got to keep going. Mira Maniac will now face Pimp of the Year. PotY is in the ring, with his large entourage.
And his opponent, accompanied by Vito Sorvino and Mira2, from Hollywood, California, weighing 170 lbs., MIRA MANIAC!
("This Maniac's In Love With You" plays. He waves to the crowd. He sets up Mira2 at ringside, for Vito to guard.)

***bell rings.
Alright, we're just about ready to go and....already? Boy, we're not wasting any time here, Wrestler Smurf is already rushing to the ring!
And he's carrying a torch! What could this possibly mean?!
Wrestler Smurf is swinging the torch at Vito Sorvino - Vito doesn't need any burns, thank you, and steps back. Wrestler Smurf is setting fire to the poster!
Mira finally sees what's going on. Pimp of the Year is taking off through the crowd! The poster is already smoldering - that went up really fast.
And that black smoke can't be healthy. Wrestler Smurf douses the torch and goes straight for the Maniac.
Let me at 'im! LET ME AT *grunt* Hey! There's glue on my seat! I can't move! *grunt*'t... Oh yeah! I'll just have to get in with the chair glued to me!
That was Gary Gourmando's chair. We had to bolt it to the floor for easier weight distribution.
Aw, man! How do I get home?
We've called a locksmith, he'll be here shortly. Right now, you can just watch as Wrestler Smurf lays a beatdown on Mira Maniac. Oh, the agony! And the "Lalalalalala", too! Vito Sorvino is breaking it up now, but the damage has been done.
Here is your winner, as a result of a disqualification, MIRA MANIAC!
Does he get to move up in the ratings for that?
I doubt it; but PotY's went down, I think.
Okay, we've got to move quickly now. The tag belts are on the line. Milwaukee's Best gave the Techie Salesmen from Hell a title shot; let's see if the Techies can capitalize. Both teams are in the ring.
***bell rings.
Beast Light and Switch. Light with a side headlock. Switch with an eye gouge! Light with a backhand slap to the face. Switch punches Light in the gut and gets a closed fist warning.
Does it matter? Getting a gut punch in is a good trade for a simple warning.
Switch with a headbutt and tags Bait. Double team. They're choking Beast Light with the tag rope!
Ah, they're still using it. That's a classic. You know, that's the only reason tag ropes exist?
I did not know that. Bait and Light now, Bait trying for a gutwrench suplex, but Light won't let it happen. Light with a snap suplex. The cover:
Pencil-Necked Geek: Hey guys, any room for REAL expert commentary?
Sorry, there's only three chairs, and ThatGuy's stuck, so I guess we all are.
Conspiracy against nerds, is it? We'll see about that next week!
I have no idea what I've done to anger him. B.F. Sack I understand, but the Geek? Light tags in Beast. Bait is begging off!
With good reason. No way will those scrawny guys compete with the likes of Beast.
Beast with a chokeslam! This could be over right now! Wait, Edwina is coming from underneath the ring! She whips Beast in the face with one of her pigtails! Now she low-blows him! But wait, here comes Not Prisoner X to even the score! He's holding Edwina off...they're in a staredown! Now he goes to attack Bait. The ref is calling this one.
Ladies and gentlemen, this match has ended in a double disqualification!
For all their little tricks, you'd think they'd want the match to be no-DQs. Well, we all make mistakes. I myself forgot to check the seat before sitting down. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! My bad.
We're up to the main event! It's a championship contest, and a lumberjack match. B.F. Sack requested the Inner Circle, but that's not going to happen. All lumberjacks are impartial to this angle. There's BILL, and OddJobber, and Sugarplum Harry, and Hammond Egger, Buzz Redwood (who actually IS a lumberjack), Sweet Candy Andy, "Cold Blooded" Ken Thompson, and El Spheros.
Wait, Sugarplum Harry? If it's Gruff, he's in for some problems.
B.F. Sack is in the ring now...and here comes his opponent!
(nothing happens)
I said, here comes his opponent!
(still nothing)
Damn it, nothing ever happens properly anymore, does it?!
(A puff of smoke in the ring. Presto Cadabra is behind B.F. Sack and nails him with the lead wand repeatedly.)
Remember kiddies, the bell hasn't rung, this is all nice and legal!
***bell rings.
Not anymore. Presto throws away the lead wand and this match is ready to go. B.F.Sack is down. Hard. Lead hurts, kids, and it's also poisonous, so don't try this at home with those "Presto-brand" lead wands you bought at the concession stands, okay? Thanks. He picks up the massive Sack and goes for the "saw you in half" torture rack. He's shouting at the camera!
Presto: Yeah? How do you like THIS, Tiger? Next to Janice, I've got the best rack in town!
Looks like Presto is losing stability. He can't hang on to the "saw you in half"! He topples! Sack falls right on top of him! The slow count: 1............2................3! B.F. Sack is still your champion!
And boy, those lumberjacks sure earned THEIR paychecks, didn't they? But that's okay. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!
That's all our time, folks. On Friday Friday Friday, I hope you'll see what you were SUPPOSED to see last week, when it was pre-empted by the WNHL playoffs. Who cares about the St. Louis Rhythm and the Washington Monuments? Honestly! Well, see you next week, and until then, keep your pants off!
©1998 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre
You don't have to say that, ThatGuy, but thanks.