'Swonderful, 'Smarvelous, 'SNae Trous
En español donde sea disponible!
(Pan interior of the Slobberknocker Arena. Pyro guys in full effect, that is, sparklers and flare guns.)
Welcome fans to Monday Nae Trous! I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden. On my left is Captain Twilight, the actively retired octogenarian wrestler.
Hello fans, and Vince. What an interesting show this should be. We have a smattering of everything today.
But unfortunately we must start with El Presidente who came out of nowhere, to plug the Mexico Madness pay-per-view.
(The Mexican Hat Dance plays. El Presidente struts out accompanied by Los Mexicanos Nondescriptos, Tortilla Tito and Raoul Ramon Ramirez.
Pepe enters next carrying the ramp. After the ramp is placed, El Spheros rolls out, up the ramp and into the ring.)
El Presidente: ¡VIVA! I am El Presidente, and becoss I jhoosed to be the main man here, I steel have the power to get my own pay-per-view!
Brought to jhoo by Corona Cerveza. Eef eet's Mehican, eet's sponsorred by Corona Cerveza! Mehico Madness ees een Ingglish where available! Een sobtitles!
¡Juar juar juar!
These guys are competent wrestlers; but how will they pull off a PPV?
Who knows, who cares? They haven't been in the spotlight long enough for anyone to care.
El Presidente: Ahem! As I was sayeeng, thees weell be the best pay-per-view of the year! ¿Bonkhouse Bleeveeon Brawl? Beeg deal.
The best part ees, all my Mehico Onleemeeted guys get a shot at a title! My El Spheros for Heavyweight, Tortilla Tito for North American,
(A bunch of suits burst on to the scene.)
Suit #1: Alright, buddy, hold it right there. We're from the Department of Immigration, and it's come to our attention
that not one of you Mexico Unlimited people is up on their citizenship.
Suit #2: And we're here to take you back to Mexico. With brutal force, if need be.
El Presidente: Bot...bot...b-b-b-b...
Suit #1: We've heard enough out of you. Boys, get them!
El Presidente: Defend yourselves my people! Boys, get them!
The suits don gas masks and use pepper spray on the Mexicans. It has no effect as they've been
desensitized to hot peppers. The tear gas they are NOT immune to. Everyone is handcuffed and led away.)
El Presidente: Jhoo can't do thees to me! I am El Presidente! I owned thees fed! Iiii Oooooooowned theeeeesssss feeeeeeeed!!
Yes! Get those immygants away from the STWF. FAR away.
Captain, that's a terrible thing to say! And the FCC will probably have our hides for your use of the word "immygants". Ulp...and mine.
This could cause a stir. What will the Mexico Madness PPV be now? And what will happen to Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre?
I'm getting word now that the Right Hand Man will choose another stable to have its own pay-per-view, provided it has as many people as Mexico Unlimited did, (not including manager) or more.
Mexico Unlimited had six if you include Raoul Ramon Ramirez. That means it's only the Rogue's Gallery, the Inner Circle, the Entertainment Industry, and the Asylum Alliance.
That's right. While the Tri-Lambda group, Ganbariya and the Total Annihilation Squad may be stables, a pay-per-view couldn't be built around them...yet.
Next week? I wonder how much butt-kissing those four stables will have to do to the Right Hand Man for that PPV.
Quite a bit - the RHM is pretty invulnerable to lobbying. That being said, we have to move on to our first match: a triangle match between the Stalker, PunkMe PayMe and relative newcomer Sally Sleepy-Time.
I heard Sally had her TV debut on Friday but I missed it. Can we see a replay?
No. No budget for it. But believe me, Sally is one creepy guy. If guy it is. Let's take you backstage now as ThatGuy is with Sally for comments.
Hi. Do you know him? (points to Sally) If you don't, you're in for a treat! Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! This one right here is so insane, he makes me look like...now, who's not crazy?
Think think. Well, makes me look pretty sane indeed. And isn't he so cute when his mouth goes all foamy? And when he crushes a guy until his ribs crack and he hemorrhages from internal bleeding? Yes he is.
Aren't you? Tell them, Sally.
(Sally looks at camera with eyes staring at nothing in particular. His arms are moving up and down as if mechanical levers.)
Sally: Ma-ma...ma-ma...Sally loves you.
(His eyes suddenly turn to a gaze that would make stone look soft. His mouth starts foaming.)
Sally: I WILL FEED YOU YOUR OWN BOWELS, THEN LAUGH AS I STAND AND WATCH YOU TRY TO FIND A METHOD TO EXCRETE THEM!
(He stops foaming and his face turns innocent)
Sally wanna go beddy-bye. *YAWN* (smacks his lips loudly, twice)
He makes me so proud. Stalker, PunkMe PayMe, this is what you're up against. Have fun! Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!
*shudder* I'm getting bad vibes from that...thing. Whatever it is. That doll is evil, I tells ya, EEEEVIIIILL!
Well, be that as it may, he's coming to wrestle. You should have seen him destroy our sound guy, Edgar. He's still recovering. Der Kommissaar had to hire a disk jockey for our sound. He calls himself G-No.
Blasted kids and their music.
This triangle match is scheduled for one fall. Making his way first, from Truth or Consequences, NM, weighing 250 lbs., PUNKME PAYME!
("Hit Me With Your Best Shot" plays, albeit the first four-and-a-half notes are repeated about eleven times before the rest follows. PunkMe's tights now have the Albatross Brothers Gaming Corporation logo on them.)
Entering next, from the Ashes of Utopia (I think...), weighing 283 lbs., THE STALKER!
("Danger" by KISS plays. Again, much repetition, this time with a dance backbeat. Strep is close behind, wearing tape around his ribs.)
And finally, from Parts Unknown, weighing 398 lbs., accompanied by ThatGuy and BILL, SALLY SLEEPY-TIME!
(A dance version of Brahms' lullaby plays. The phrases "Hit It!" and "Ii-YEAH!" are sprinkled throughout. Sally bounds out wearing the pink bonnet, flowery yellow dress, and beard with no moustache.)
At least G-No is having fun with the sound.
All three men in the ring. The Stalker wants no part of Sally right now, he rounds on PunkMe PayMe. I bet he thinks he can at least finish one person off before getting to the big guy.
Stalker bounces PunkMe PayMe off the ropes, spinning heel kick by the Stalker. PunkMe is down. Sally starts going after the Stalker, his knees barely moving, arms outstretched. Stalker thinks fast and picks up PunkMe,
heaving him at the Asylum member. Sally is foaming at the mouth now. Sally headbutts PunkMe. Now he gives him an atomic drop! Ouch.
Sally snaps! Will he do the bearhug I've heard so much about?
Ironically, his devastating bearhug only occurs when he's in his "baby" mentality. He claims he gives hugs because he "loves" someone.
If that isn't the definition of "tough love", I don't know what is.
Sally levels PunkMe with a big right arm. The Stalker is laughing the whole time! He's loving it.
PunkMe PayMe: Sally! That man right there said he needs a hug.
Stalker: You filthy liar! I did no such...I don't want a hug, Sally! He does! Get this freak away from me! Strep, help! AAAAHHHH!
I think Sally has reverted to his happy self. The Stalker taking a crushing bearhug. Stalker squirming to get out, eye rakes, knees, nothing seems to work. Why isn't Strep helping?
Those taped ribs. Sally's doing?
Well, yes. Oh, I see your point. Same reason I don't see Carnage and Iceberg around here. Anyway, they get to meet Sally head-on next week in a six man tag with Mira Maniac and BILL as well.
The Stalker is limp now. The ref is raising the arms once...twice...it's over! For the Stalker, anyway. ThatGuy gets Sally to release as PunkMe PayMe is still in this.
Sally's pretty happy. If PunkMe PayMe can avoid the bearhug, he just might be in the clear!
I think the foam says otherwise. Angry Sally starts repeatedly powerbombing PunkMe PayMe. Sally may not have many moves, but have you seen this guy's size?! Who cares?
Yeah! Maybe if we start pumping out some canned "Sally" chants, he can be champion in a few weeks.
Funny. Very funny. PunkMe is sufficiently tenderized after six powerbombs. Sally goes to the middle rope and sits on PunkMe! PayMe's shoulders are on the mat...1...2...3! Was there any doubt? Sally wins.
Here is your winner, SALLY SLEEPY-TIME!
Wait, here come Carnage and Iceberg after all! They beat on Sally from behind. BILL and ThatGuy pop inside the ring right away. Are they going to start pounding as well?
It looks like they're holding the Total Annihilation Squad for some hugs!
Luckily, both men break the holds with low blow kicks. ThatGuy and BILL are receiving some heavy hits. Just enough to exit through the crowd before they can have the favour returned.
Next week, the Asylum will get the chance.
Our next match features Mark and Chris, the Bad <-BLEEP->ses, as they face the Circus Freaks.
Does this feud EVER end? Come on, let's be reasonable here, and say this is the last match these two will EVER have.
What if the Freaks become champions one day, and the B.A.s the #1 contenders?
We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
The following contest is set for one fall, with NO TIME LIMIT. Making their way to the ring first, from Oakland, CA; with a combined weight of 470 lbs., Mark, Chris...yeah!
("TNT" by AC/DC plays, with much scratching involved. Not much reaction, as this team's been pretty dormant as of late.)
And their opponents, from Parts Unknown, weighing 561 lbs., and representing the Asylum Alliance, accompanied by ThatGuy and Bohemoth, THE CIRCUS FREAKS!
(The calliope music starts up. Some of it sounds like it's being played backwards. Some good cheers for the former champs.)
The Asylum at ringside is conferring. They realize this is the last match they're having with the Bad A$$es. ThatGuy sticks his head up and calls the rest over. BILL, Mira Maniac and Sally Sleepy-Time enter and
join the huddle. A lot of snickering is going on. They break. Sasquatch starts off with Mark, entering the ring just as the ref was counting him out. He got to 7!
Their little strategy almost cost them a victory!
Quite so. But I wonder what they were talking about, and what Wrestler Smurf has to say about all this. There he is at ringside, with his belt, his shirt, and his two Smurfettes.
I heard Jamal refer to them as Pouty and Extra-Crispy.
Oh, I don't doubt it, but Wrestler Smurf has ears too you know, and Jamal will get his eventually. Mark is really taking it to Sasquatch, which surprises me quite a bit.
He's really off his game, Sasquatch is. Mark delivers a drop toehold, and a big legdrop lands right across that huge hairy chest. Mark picks up the bigfoot, and a double underhook DDT sends him right back down!
What is wrong with Sasquatch? Did the B.A.s spike his prune juice or something?!
You're the only prune juice drinker around here, my friend. Well, maybe the Sunflower, but I won't get into that.
That Sunflower has no morals. He's disgusting! How can we get him out of this fed. Where's Pat Patterson when you need him?!
Easy there, Cap. Let's stay on track. Sasquatch is in a Boston Crab. He's crawling over to Dizzy Desi...the tag is made.
Let's hope the speed man is better than the power man was just now.
Mark nails Dizzy with a dropkick. Dizzy lands flat on his back. Mark puts HIM in a Boston Crab. Dizzy is in pain. He makes it to the ropes, after an astonishing 40 seconds!
I've never seen the Circus Freaks wrestle so badly. To think, these were former champs!
Double-D picking it up...a few chops, a bounce to Mark's corner...Chris is tagged. Chris is fresh, and he's letting Dizzy-D know it! A vertical suplex, a backbreaker...the list goes on.
But wait...Dizzy with a Sunset flip on Chris. Chris is pinwheeling his arms...and topples! The ref counts: 1...2...ThatGuy makes the save? What on earth? Dizzy comes up to yell at ThatGuy. BILL with a steel chair
right to the back of the head! The chair is covered in all sorts of splatter. But the ref sees it in plain view, and calls for the bell, as the Asylum rush the Circus Freaks.
Here are your winners, as a result of a disqualification, THE CIRCUS FREAKS!
Just like that, the beating stops. BILL and ThatGuy raise Dizzy's hand in victory. Mira Maniac and Sally do the same with Sasquatch. Bohemoth is pointing at both of them. It was all a hoax! The Circus Freaks just
gave themselves a victory by faking a disqualification!
Ladies and gentlemen, I've just been informed that this was indeed the LAST time the Circus Freaks will meet the Bad <-BLEEP->ses.
Mixed reaction on that one.
At least it's over. FINALLY. We have to start the next match. Très Sheik will face the Pencil-Necked Geek for a shot at the ICCTINACBBIC belt. Should the Sheik win, he gets a title shot next week.
Strategy should play a big part. Both the Geek and the Rogue's Gallery are notorious for screwing opponents.
From what I've heard, so is the Sunflower, but I won't get into that.
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way first, from Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates, representing the Rogue's Gallery and weighing 234 lbs., The Exorbitant Arab, TRÈS SHEIK!
Voiceover: I'm the Sul-s-s-Sultan of Swee-swee-sweet, with the empha-emphasis on sul-sul-sultan!
("Supermodel" played on a sitar and tabla, with some synth and bass guitar added, plays. The Sheik comes out with the Rogue and Rhythm & Blues. Trash is being thrown all over creation. The Sheik lifts a parasol to deflect it.)
(Bait and Switch enter in their suits and flowing red capes. The theme from Intel Inside plays, with no change from G-No.)
Switch: His opponent, the current Intercontinental Cruiserweight "This is Not A Championship Belt But It's Close" SUSPENDERS champion...accompanied by the sumptuous Edwina, weighing 115 lbs. with NO excess fat...THE PENCIL-NECKED GEEK!
(The Beer-Barrel Groove plays, one of G-No's own creations. The Geek enters with golden suspenders. Edwina follows with her newer hairstyle: a ponytails with interwoven barbs, and a spiked ball at the end.)
We're just about ready to begin this con...look up! At the Monstron! It's the Sunflower - I wonder what he wants.
Sunflower: Très Sheik! I heard your commentss. You can't judge me like that. You want to ssee who'ss the mosst flamboyant? You want to ssee who can walk the catwalk? Well, honey, next Monday, you can bring it on, and I'll give you
a match you won't ssoon forget! And when I lay the Bum Hump (TM) on you, you'll be begging...for more! You want me, you jusst don't know it yet!
Très Sheik: We don't have to wait until next Monday. I'll show you my superior technique and style and leave you on the mat in a midden heap as quickly today as I can then.
Sunflower: You make it ssound sso tempting. Fine! Geek, you can jusst prancce your little butt back to the ring and wait your turn like a good little boy.
Sheik: Next week, Geek, I'll get that match with you. AND your bel...suspenders, after that. Right now, I have to teach someone a lesson in humility...and fashion.
Geek: If that guy's coming down here, I want to be as far away as possible. Come on, Tri-Lambs, we have work to do.
Can this be done? Can they honestly just start up a match, just like that?! Oh well. Looks like Très Sheik is adjusting his hair underneath his turban for this match.
I didn't know the Sheik was...that way.
Sheik: I'm not, you foolish old man. But when someone tries to be frillier than me, I must step in and defend my honour.
And his opponent, accompanied by Seed and weighing 123 lbs., from Church and Wellesley, Toronto, Ontario; THE SUNFLOWER!
("Take a Chance on Me" by Erasure plays. The Sunflower is wearing shiny purple vinyl pants and sunglasses with red LEDs in them. He's carrying a sign that reads "Kiss Me, I'm Clean". Even more boos,
and even more trash is being thrown. Seed is trying to deflect any pieces that come close to hitting.)
Why is "Church and Wellesley" significant?
Apparently, Church and Wellesley is a district heavy in people who are...that way. In fact, Toronto is the city with the second-highest population of people who are...that way.
The Sunflower extends a hand. The Sheik just sniffs and turns away. Sunflower nails him with a forearm from behind!
I'd never turn my back on the Sunflower. He's liable to do anything from behind.
He's a wrestler first, he wouldn't try anything in the ring. Ugh...I hope. Sheik with a top-wristlock. Sheik lets go and moves into a snapmare takeover. The Sunflower just glares up at the Sheik's
face and smiles. The Exorbitant Arab is infuriated! He's stomping away at Sunflower! But Sunflower seems to enjoy it. Très Sheik is leaving the ring for guidance from the Rogue.
Meanwhile, it looks like Seed is trying to hit on Rhythm & Blues. They're looking pretty darn uncomfortable right now.
The Rogue is back in the ring. Très Sheik with an enzuigiri kick! Nobody can enjoy a kick to the head. The cover: 1...2...Sunflower with a shoulder up. Sheik pulls up Sunflower by the hair.
Seed: Nobody does that to my man but ME! You get your own submissive, you hussy!
That was REALLY more information than I needed. You know what, Vince? I need to leave. I'll be back...
Damn it! Don't leave me alone with...um...Sunflower with a jawbreaker! Sunflower and Seed quickly remove a turnbuckle cover. Sunflower picks up Sheik and whips him into the exposed buckle. Sheik falls like a ton of bricks.
The Rogue is complaining, but the ref isn't listening! Sunflower with a head of steam and jumps on top of the Sheik! Now he grabs the top rope and...oh MAN! That's disgusting! Quick, go to an extended fan shot.
(Camera moves to a man with a fishnet t-shirt, grinning impishly)
We can get a better fan shot than that, can't we? Well, that's the Bum Hump (TM), and Très Sheik is tapping out just to get the guy off of him. Ugh...I don't know what's worse, Sally Sleepy-Time's hugs, or this.
Here is your winner, as a result of a submission, THE SUNFLOWER!
You better get used to submitting to me, all of you! And Geek, I'm coming for those golden suspenders, honey. WHO'S YOUR MOMMY?!
I have no idea how long we can put up with this...deviance! But we have to I'm afraid. *sigh*. Milwaukee's Best is next. They face the Crew.
This contest is set for one fall. Making their way toward the ring, the challengers, with a combined weight of 597 lbs., THE CREW!
("Eat It" by Weird Al plays, with more scratching. The Crew enter the ring to mostly cheers. They're carrying buckets of grease, and proceed to start coating the ring floor with it.)
Apparently, a new stip was added. This wouldn't even be illegal if the stip wasn't added, because they never considered this eventuality drafting up the rules. But this sound man...we need someone mainstream. Just not Edgar.
And their opponents, the champions...with a combined weight of 550 lbs., MILWAUKEE'S BEST!
("Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns `n' Roses plays with a dance backbeat. They enter and grimace at the grease, with various chunks sticking out.)
Hold on; I'll get that. Hello? No, you just missed him, I'm afraid. Yes, he won that match. Yes, with that...move. If you can call it that.
No, I'm afraid he was with someone at the time. Sorry to disappoint. I'm sorry, what was that last part? No, of course I'm not! Honestly....
Listen, Mr. Patterson, I really must get back to the match. Go call up Gary Gourmando or something. The STWF switchboard will be more than happy to give it to you.(hangs up)
Some people. John Whopper will begin with Beast. Beast adjusts his stance so he doesn't slip. John Whopper begins skating across the grease with his boots...clothesline! Beast normally wouldn't go down, but he doesn't
have much stability. He falls on the floor, and I don't think he enjoys all that grease on his body. I wonder what the Sunflower would have to say about all this...
I just get back, and you're STILL talking about...him?
Well, I wasn't going to, but then I got a phone call from a Mr. Patterson and...
I don't want to know. Wow...Beast Light just took a spill on that grease and took out Chris Fry's legs!
I suppose both teams have already tagged. Good strategy: tag, wipe the grease off the boots, tag again so partner can do the same. Beast Light covers: 1...2...kickout. The kickout sends a small
splatter of grease across the ring. Beast Light is up. Chris Fry is struggling to get up but can't. I think their little plan backfired!
Beast Light is going to the grease-free top buckle...what's he going to do? Frog splash! And what a splash it was. The cover: 1...2...3! The tag belts stay right where they are.
That was a pitifully short match. That can only mean one thing...
Yup. Whopper and Fry grab a handful of grease each and toss it into the eyes of Milwaukee's Best. While the tag champs are blinded, a double dropkick on Beast! And now on Beast Light! They're laughing themselves silly.
They might not be champions, but they're still having the time of their lives.
Well, they're entertained rather easily.
Wait, I just forgot: Milwaukee's Best has a stable to back them. The Inner Circle is rushing the ring now: Here's Tyrone Mayhem, the Tiger, Prisoner X and B.F. Sack. Mayhem and the Tiger hammering away at the Crew.
Prisoner X slips and slams into Sack, who falls to the canvas. Sack manages to get up as if there was nothing on which to slip. He gets up slowly, and glares right into the Prisoner's eyes.
Well, good thing he's here, because his match is up next. The final match of the day - a championship match in a perspex cell against the champion, Death. Everyone else leaves as that's another stip. The only problem is the grease.
How are we going to get rid of it?
(The Sunflower runs back to the ring with a smallish barrel and a squeegee.)
Sunflower: Are you finished with that, boyss?
Chris Fry: Hey, man, be my guest, but this stuff's pretty nasty.
Sunflower: Great! (he starts scraping the grease off the mat and collecting it in the barrel, chunks and all. He then runs off and clicks his heels before he disappears through the curtain.)
See how things work out?
Currently in the ring, representing the Inner Circle, weighing 282 lbs., the challenger, B.F. SACK!
(The theme to "Sanford and Son" plays. G-No starts remixing. A loud smack is heard, followed by a "thud", and the song returns to normal.)
And his opponent, from Death Valley, California (with emphasis on California), weighing 310 lbs., DEATH!
(The bells, gongs, harpsichords start up. Death looks a little miffed that G-No has been removed. A loud pop for the Drunken One. He pulls out a Corona, after giving it a lot of airtime, and promptly throws it away.)
I'd like to remind everyone that the STWF does not endorse Corona Cerveza, and does not recommend drinking it.
You mean you're not saying they should OR shouldn't, right?
I stand by what I said. The perspex cell is descending. Sack doesn't have the Inner Circle, or even Big Daddy Panama to help him; Death has no masked man to interfere.
That ring is smaller than I imagined. There's not much ringside room to work with. In fact, I'd say maybe nine inches around the ring. Look, they're moving the stairs to accommodate the cell!
Do you KNOW how much perspex costs? No, didn't think so, but Der Kommissaar figured he could cut some corners, and we have to like it. Death makes the first move - a nicely executed bodyslam. Sack counters by rolling him up
from the floor into a small package. The cover: not even a one-count. Death jumps back up and attempts a leaping bodypress. Sack just catches him and works the momentum into a belly-to-belly suplex, what a countermove! He pulls
the bigger Death up by the neck. That's power, right there. Death outweighs the challenger by nearly 30 lbs.!
Not to mention is five inches bigger.
Hey, you know, I just realized. No wonder Death can hold so much liquor. He's over 300 lbs.! Why didn't I think of it before.
You think he can hold his liquor? Half the time you look and wonder if he's already gone blind. Death with an enzuilariato - this guy is full of surprises!
He's probably figuring he can use the Mexican moves now that El Presidente's stable is history. I wonder who the Right Hand Man will choose...
My guess is the Industry.
I'll guess the Gallery, seeing as how the Rogue has executive power.
Ten bucks says you're wrong.
You're on. Sack has Death in a Boston Crab set-up position...it's a slingshot! Death sails over the ring and smacks right into the perspex. A loud smearing is heard as he slowly slips down, leaving a large wet streak.
Did his tongue really have to be sticking out like that? Sack tries to squeeze himself into the ringside area. He picks up Death and starts banging his head against the wall. Death doesn't seem to mind;
I think he's numb. Death grabs Sack's head and slams it against the ringpost. Now he grabs it and tries to knock it against the cell...wow! Did you see that? The perspex just silvered right up!
Yup, that's an internal crack alright. Maybe this cell won't last the match.
Ten bucks says it will.
Oh no you don't. Betting on cage survival's already been done in the MBC, thank you very much. The ref is ready to double-count them out, he's on 6. Sack and Death are scrambling to get back in the ring. Well, Sack is, Death doesn't really care.
If he gets counted out, he keeps the belt. What? I've just been informed this match was always no count-out, no DQ! That got Death moving. Thank goodness the wrestlers can hear us.
You mean it isn't really?
Of course not. Not that it matters now; both men are inside the ring once more. Death with a fisherman's suplex. The count: 1...kickout.
Shouldn't even have been one; Sack's shoulders weren't on the mat.
Death with a legdrop. Death now with a fireman's carry takedown. B.F. Sack is in trouble!
Sack is without a doubt one of the finest grapplers the STWF has. Death is a superior brawler with strong technical tendencies, and in a match like this,
I'll give Death the edge four times out of five.
What kind of a weird analogy is that? Sack only lost the belt because of the interference of Prisoner X. When Death defends his belt successfully, then we'll start talking about how good he is. Okay? B.F. Sack on his feet and a round-the-world backbreaker!
He's still got a lot of juice going. Sack picks up Death and heaves him over his shoulder like a battering ram. He springboards off the ropes across the nine inches of ringside, and...man, that HAD to hurt. Death's forehead is crimson,
and that silver in the perspex just got a lot bigger, and branched besides. I expect one more will cause a full-blown crack. Death wipes some blood out of his eyes - Sack takes the opportunity to apply a huge bodypress! Death's back smacks against the perspex one more time,
and a few shards come flying off. Death picks one up and slices Sack in the arm. That's some sturdy plastic. Both men are bloody.
We haven't had a good bloody brawl on a Nae Trous in some time! This is good.
Death grabs Sack's other arm and Irish whips him all the way along ringside to another wall. Sack just got all the wind knocked out of him. Death rolls him back into the ring, and scrambles up to the top buckle outside. This just might be the end of it, folks,
so hang on to your hats! Death, the 310 lb. drunken monster, is attempting a 450 splash! Sack just brought his knees up! NO! The crowd was so ready to mark out.
Hey! That kind of talk is reserved for the Internet.
Sorry. I forgot where I was. Death is doubled over, clutching his stomach, forehead still gushing. Sack's arm is causing him no less pain. Nevertheless, I think he's going to try a SackHammer!
He's got Death up in the vertical suplex position. He's holding it. If he can just get the momentum to slam him...Death still has that shard of perspex! He jabs Sack's bad arm with it. The hold collapses, and Death falls right on top of the challenger.
The crowd is on its feet...1....2........3! Death retains his belt! But what a great match that was.
You have to admit, B.F. Sack and Death may have mutual respect for one another, and this match may have been nothing personal, but they sure gave it their all. Look, Sack is holding up Death's hand. Now that's the mark of a true sportsman.
The perspex cell is being lifted up so they can leave the ring. And that's all our time. On Friday Friday Friday, you'll see Nik at Nyte in action against the Techie Salesmen from Hell; the Vegas Connection will run their mouths off and try and remove the
competition that is Rhythm & Blues. B.F. Sack will face Prisoner X; and Bohemoth tangles with Tyrone Mayhem in a "what the hell were the bookers thinking?" match. Until then, this is Angus "Vince" McMadden saying, Keep your pants off!
©1998 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre