If you're not using Netscape, I don't have a clue how this'll look.
Monday Nae Trous - Mediocrity Returns
(Opening credits begin. Hokey rock music abounds. Superstars in action.
BILL getting injured about six times. Hey, is that the Square?)
(Pan interior of the Slobberknocker Arena. The pyro guys whip out their sparklers
and sparkle like they've never sparkled before. A disoriented-looking Girl Friday appears with a
paper bag in her hand, but is quickly told that this is the Monday card, and she meanders away.)
WELCOME everyone TO Monday NAE Trous! I'M Angus "Vince" McMADDEN, along WITH
Captain TWILIGHT and Jamal TUPAC Mustafa. And we're not WEARING pants!
Vince, why on earth are you putting accents on all the wrong words?
Wanted to try something different. It failed. Let us never speak of it again.
Well, we've got a semi-action-packed show. It may not be as intense as last week,
but it's still better than any of the crap they put on Oliver Copp's Smoky Championship Wrestling.
C'mon, V, we ain't got nuttin' agin OCSCW.
Shouldn't we just be ignoring them like we always did?
As I was saying, you'll see the highly-anticipated five-way match. Tyrone Mayhem,
the Pencil-Necked Geek, and Intern Man...and of course, Très Sheik and Colonel
Those two have been doing a lot of arguing in the back, I hear.
I'm goin' wit' Intern Man on dis one. He gots a LOTTA homies in his corner,
and dey could pull off anythin'.
Absolutely. But the Pencil-Necked Geek is crafty, and Tyrone Mayhem has a collapsible titanium crobar with
a diamond tip, and the Gallery...well, they're the Gallery.
("These Boots Were Made For Walkin'" by Nancy Sinatra starts playing.)
The Bully's not scheduled to be here tonight!
Then how would Vic the Sound Guy know to play his music?
(The Bully enters the ring with commode in hand. He sets it in the corner of the ring and grabs a mic.)
The Bully: You know, folks, I haven't had much need to be around. I've already destroyed half the cruiserweights here.
Not to mention that dork Pee Wee RRRico in the Pier Six Brawl at Monster Bash. Heh heh, I still replay that one and laugh.
But there's a five-way cruiserweight match tonight, and that's just inviting the Bully to show everyone who's boss!
Hold on. That ain't the reason I'm here. I got a note in my locker this morning. Here's what it reads: "There's a new Elite Dwarf
champ in town, and he's Rogue's Gallery. Little Andre. Just thought you'd like to know. Signed, a friend." Now, B.F. Sack
just asked everyone to band together and fight the Gallery. Normally I wouldn't care what Sack has to say either way,
but if it means pounding another midget, I'm in. See that big cage up there? I'm challenging Little Andre to a cage match. TONIGHT!
And it's gonna be great.
(whispers) I wonder if he knows Little Andre is 6'9".
(The Bully makes a motion to lower the cage. It does, slowly.)
The Bully: Little Andre, get out here! Oh, I'm feeling good. I'm gonna do something I've always wanted to do.
CUE MY MUSIC!
(the strains of Nancy Sinatra's song plays. It's close to the end now.)
The Bully: Are you ready, boots? ... START WALKIN'!
(As the trumpet riffs begin, the large Bully starts go-go dancing.)
This is not something I would have asked to see.
All these new-fangled dances. The swim, the monkey, give me the Charleston anyday!
Here comes Little Andre now. The Bully doesn't even see him, he's too engrossed in the watusi! The Bully kicks the door of the steel cage in
and taps the Bully on the shoulder. The Bully turns around...and look at his face!
He just turned whiter'n the Geek!
Well, I'd say the Geek's more light grey. But we see your point. The Bully is scared out of his wits! He was expecting an easy time,
and look what he's getting!
The Bully: AAAAAHHH! I quit! No, please don't hurt me, I'm sorry! Come on...AAAHHH!
The Bully is hightailing it outta there. But here comes Mittens from the back. He has a big grin on his face as he picks up the Bully.
He's not so tough now, when he's found some people his own size.
The Bully just got chokeslammed on the ramp! Security officials are dragging his sorry carcass out of here. Whether or not we'll ever see him
again is beyond us. But we really should get to our first match.
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way to the ring first, making his STWF debut,
from Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada, and weighing in at 245 lbs., JEAN BANNISTER!
("Rock `n' Roll Part 2" by Gary Glitter plays. Bannister walks in and raises his stick above the air.
The crowd seems more pumped by the music.)
Duh-duh duh-duh duh DAAAAAA-da. HEY!
Jamal, please. I know it's catchy, but please.
And his opponent, from Springfield, Illinois, weighing in at 244 lbs.,
representing the Asylum Alliance, the man everyone knows as....BILL!
("The 1812 Overture" plays as BILL enters. A few boos. The "BILL is peachy keen" and "BILL isn't half bad" signs go up.)
BILL has Jean Bannister in a top-wristlock. Jean Bannister with a hard left hand into BILL's face. The ref is warning him about the closed fists.
Jean is claiming that his boxing gloves won't let him do anything BUT closed fists.
Ref cain't argue that. He lettin' it go.
How can Bannister hope to do anything mildly technical without using his hands?
I don't think the hockey player is in this for the technical moves. BILL takes another hard left. Jean Bannister bounces off the ropes and
delivers a flying elbow, right on the money! Methinks we underestimated the goon?
Cowboy Bill Irwin's in the buildin'? Where? He owes me ten bucks!
Jean Bannister with a kick to BILL's midsection. He grabs BILL's face and pulls it backwards, and to the mat, express!
BILL's face being ground into the canvas. Man, that's gotta hurt.
BILL's felt plenty worse. I'm surprised he's still walking after all the bumps he's taken.
Jean Bannister whips BILL to the buckle. Come on, BILL, offense, offense!
BILL's offensive alright - to my intelligence.
Don't talk to US about your intelligence. You're the guy who thought Arnold would be unmasked as Pedro Chang.
We's still dunno who Arnold is, so it ain't been disproven. ... OW! Quit slappin' me!
Bannister with a massive cross-check avalanche in the corner! Bill looks dazed after that one. Bannister climbs to the middle rope,
I think he's going to nail the Slap Shot!
This...had better...be good.
He jumps up and grabs BILL's face. It's a face buster!
... Vince, can I go outside and play?
Oh, Cap, it wasn't THAT bad. No one ever said talent was a requirement to make it in the STWF.
Ask Death. Or douja. Or the Chosen Ones for that matter.
But Death studied with the Mexicans, douja is totally unpredictable, and the Chosen Ones...
the Chosen Ones are my stablemates, damn it, so quit maligning them!
Ooh, touchy. Here's the cover. 1...2...3! BILL never had a chance.
Boy, dere's a shocker.
Jean Bannister's not done! He grabs his hockey stick. Hooking! Slashing! *shudder* spearing.
BILL's going to be feeling that one. He limps off to the locker room clutching his neck. Well, it wasn't a major injury,
but BILL's consistent, let's give him that. On to the next match! This is on-the-fly booking, we don't have a clue what's going to happen next!
This contest is scheduled for one fall. Making his way to the ring first, from Anchorage, Alaska and weighing 347 lbs.,
representing the Rogue's Gallery, here is Hector "Crude" OIL!
("Greased Lightnin'" by John Travolta plays. The Rogue enters behind him, with almost as much grease in his hair as Crude Oil has on his entire body.
Boos from here to Pittsburgh.)
And his opponent, from Naples, Italy and representing Club Med, weighing 240 lbs., Dr. Sillaconne M. PLANTS!
("A Change Would Do You Good" by Sheryl Crow plays. Dr. Plants enters with Nurse Heidi and the wild-haired Necro Phil. Mixed reaction.)
I really don't know what to expect in this match. Dr. Plants puts on a waistlock. Hector Oil slips out of it easily!
Drop toehold by Crude. He shimmies up to the high-rent district, and there's a flying backsplash landing on its mark.
Ugh! Can ya see de grease-stain it left on da doc's shirt?
I'm reminded of the Grease-Stain Frog Splash as performed by Mexico Unlimited's Raoul Ramon Ramirez.
Hey, I'm supposed to rehash all the old crap. You're just supposed to sit there
and say whatever the producers tell you, and call the moves three-quarters of the time. Sometimes correctly.
Well excuse me. Fans, Heart-Breaking Hell is coming in a few weeks, and you won't want to miss it, it'll be the best
series of matches EVER!
Docta Plants nailin' an enzuigiri kick. Da foot slips off da head aftaward and Plants knocked off'n
his eckalibriam. Crude Oil tryin' a fistdrop, but da surgeon moves out just in time, yo.
Hey! Quit that! You can't do play-by-play.
Someone's gotta. Docta Plants executes an armdrag. He goes fo' da cover: 1....2...and Crude Oil slips out agin.
Hector Oil is certainly a slippery devil.
He's slick, to be sure.
Hecta with'n a belly-ta-belly. He makes da cover: 1...2...nopes. Plants up, he bouncin'
off da ropes, goes fo' a crossbody. Crude catches him in midair. Now he spinnin' him around real fast!
I'm getting dizzy just watching it. Who does Hector think he is, one of the Circus Freaks?
It's called the Drunken Captain, and I don't know how much more Dr. Plants can take. Being spun around in such a manner can be quite taxing.
Sillaconne's arm is flailing wildly and I believe the ref is taking that for a submission.
Here is your winner, as a result of a submission, Hector "Crude" Oil!
I'd tell you how we have the power, like I always do, but you ignorant rednecks don't deserve it! (boos)
That match was rather unsatisfying.
Sometimes signing matches at a moment's notice works, and sometimes it doesn't.
I suppose you're right. Well, it looks like Spontaneous Human Combustion is set to take on Milwaukee's Best. Both teams are entering the ring.
But first, we've got to take a small break.
You know you like seeing it happen. Admit it.
Can you handle seeing it in every match? Try us.
HEART-BREAKING HELL. It's consolation for the dateless on Valentines' Day,
and it's only on pay-per-view. Coming soon, check your local listings.
Welcome once again to the Albatross Brothers Gaming Centre. I'm Announcer Lad.
Hey, Gamesmaster Willy, how are you doing?
Willy: Outstanding. Outstanding!
Well that's just dandy. This is Mah Jongg Plus. Old game, new twist!
More pieces, another suit completely, and these new "elemental" pieces really change things around.
Don't you agree, Willy?
Willy: Outstanding. Outstanding!
Ha ha, well put. Let's join Vyrus and the Aboriginals as they play Mah Jongg Plus.
(Cut to a shoestring-budget set. Vyrus is sitting at the table with the Mah Jongg pieces, setting them up like dominoes.
He's drooling softly as he's setting the last ones in place. His eyes are wide in anticipation. The Aboriginals walk into view
with cans of WD-40.
A1: So, like, are we supposed to be doing something with this? Looks like a jigsaw puzzle except there's nothin' but
rectangles and they don't make a picture.
A2: Ditto. Yups. *moan*
(Aboriginal 2 falls on the table, spilling the tiles everywhere. He coughs out a few tiles. Vyrus' lower lip starts wobbling.)
Willy: Outstanding. Outstanding!
Join us next week as Sally Sleepy-Time plays Puzz-4D.
Did they tell you that?
Welcome back folks!
Y'know, that Mah Jongg Plus looked kinda fun.
Er...well, that's the point of the commercials. The match started during the break, and Milwaukee's Best
has been dominating completely over Implosion. Scythe has yet to see any ring action.
Oh, so THAT'S the gameplan. I love dese kinda matches.
Everyone does, that's why they're done so often. Beast has Implosion in a bow-and-arrow submission,
and that back is arching like...an arch. Damn it, who writes this crap?
(tucking a pen away) Hey, don't look at me. *snicker*
Implosion manages to topple over and grab the ropes. The ref is ordering the hold broken and Beast complies.
Beast Light is tagged in. He puts a spinwheel kick to Implosion's chest. And there's a clothesline. The cover: 1...2...
Implosion just gets a shoulder up. With all his might he rakes Beast Light's face. And pushes him down. He's slumbering
over to his tag team partner...can he do it? Scythe is extending his long arm out to the ring...Implosion is reaching for it...
he's almost there...Beast Light tags Beast back in and look at the big man sprint! Too late; Scythe has been tagged.
I'm waitin' fo' da big surprise.
Scythe dropkicks Beast. Beast Light is up, HE gets a dropkick. Implosion makes his way outside the ring, and HE receives a dropkick.
What? I think Scythe got a little overzealous there.
I think you're right. Beast receives a powerbomb! And Scythe goes to the top rope...DIVING headbutt.
Well, if you're going to the top rope, any headbutt is bound to be diving.
Unless it's fallin'.
Scythe makes the cover: 1.......2......3! Amazing upset for Grampa's SHC.
Here are your winners, Spontaneous Human Combustion!
Well, the giant men from Guyana are victorious here tonight. What more can we expect to see? Are we going to pull out ALL the
stops for our next contest?
("Rock Lobster" by the B-52s plays. The Red Snapper comes out in a limited-edition Hubcap Gang T-shirt.)
Oh, hooray! Just what I was waiting to see.
Red Snapper: Genocide! I don't forget what happened last week. I am going to get this thing started right here, right NOW!
I want that retirement match with you, so get out here! You're not going to do the cleaning, because from now on, the Red Snapper
is the man who's going to clean you right out of the STWF, and into your pathetic WWN, with your
"Masked Jew" and "Ultimate Eeeeeeen" and "Walter Huryn the Hole-Maker" and who could forget their greatest champ ever,
Wvavzuck Niewojt? Oh boy, big names. So get out here NOW, and don't even think about bringing your Gallery. This one's between YOU...and ME.
Is the Red Snapper on serious medication? Does he really think he can take on Sergeant Genocide?
Here comes the Sarge now, so we'll see.
Sergeant Genocide is right in there. He's working on the anthropomorphic lobster's claws. Snap! Snap! Snap!
Oh Lord, I think the Red Snapper just got his arm broken. But he's not giving up! He latches on a nosehold
with his other claw. Sergeant Genocide breaks the hold with a well-placed knee below the belt.
Genocide is giving the cutthroat gesture. He whips the Red Snapper off the ropes and bounces himself off the other one.
Flying headbutt! The Exterminator has been applied.
How many more headbutt finishers do we need to see today?
Genocide puts a foot on the Red Snapper's heaving chest and salutes. The cover: 1....2....3.
The Red Snapper has just sealed his own fate.
Genocide: Snapper, you have B.F. Sack to thank. He asked you to fight, and fight you did until
you lost and now must leave in disgrace. Hahaha! Sack, I am not through with you. You and me, at Heart-Breaking Hell.
It WILL happen. Oh yes. And you will be cleansed as well, in your own blood.
Strong words from Sergeant Genocide.
But we's got da five-way comin' up!
Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is for the right to face douja for the ICCTINACBBIC belt
at Heart-Breaking Hell, and is set for one fall. Making his way first, representing Club Med,
INTERN MAN! (he enters with Kandi Stryper. She gives him some coffee from a squeeze bottle to perk him up.)
Jittery guy, ain't he?
That's life in the residency for you.
Next, representing the Tri-Lambda Group, THE PENCIL-NECKED GEEK! (he enters to a good pop.
He straightens his suspenders and hits the ring.)
Our third competitor, representing the Inner Circle, TYRONE MAYHEM! (he enters. The lights go dim until dark blue. Tyrone Mayhem appears,
shirtless, and pulls out his crobar. It seems to glow in the dark. He swings it around a few times in an impressive manner. The lights
come back up and he retracts the crobar to enter the ring.
Finally, representing the Rogue's Gallery, COLONEL "POPS" KHORNE AND TRÈS SHEIK!
(They enter quite separately and shoot dirty looks at each other as they enter the ring from opposite ends.)
That's uncharacteristic of the Gallery. If I do say so.
Tyrone Mayhem starts working on the Sheik while the Geek moves in on Intern Man. Col. Khorne is unsure how to fight.
He decides to join Mayhem in wearing down the Sheik!
Is dere dissension in da ranks?
Let's hope so; the Gallery has been running ragged tonight. It's like they've got a freakin' ego night happening. The Geek with a swinging neckbreaker
on Intern Man. Col. Khorne saw that and he's angry that other people are using the Jiffyneckpop! And I'm sure he'd argue it wasn't pulled off as well.
Très Sheik and Tyrone Mayhem are squaring off. Mayhem laying a beating to the Sheik and to think, the Exorbitant Arab was once a champion.
You'd never guess it from the way he's being attacked now! Sheik fighting back. There's a thumb to the eye. And a DDT! He makes the cover: 1...2...no.
Intern Man gets another boost of caffeine from Kandi Stryper, and he's on a roll! Look at those forearms go. The Geek is being sent to the ropes!
Col. Khorne goes back to attack the Sheik some more. Mayhem pulls out his crobar again.
Is that legal?
Probably, it is a match to fight douja after all.
Meaning what exactly?
*shrug* Khorne and Mayhem beating on the Sheik. He's almost done, folks. It looks like Mayhem's going to finish him off!
But NO! Khorne throws him out of the ring. Can we see the break-up of the
Rogue's Gallery here? Tonight? On the MNT that will forever go down as the
"MNT after the good one"? Khorne pulls up Très Sheik by the hair.
Or whatever he can grab underneath that turban. But wait, the Geek is
putting Intern Man in the sharpened Pencil! The Sheik stops that from
happening. Col. Khorne winds up...and a Jobber Time chop to the chest. The
Sheik goes down HARD.
Little too hard if y'all axe me.
Col. Khorne covers...1...2...3! Oh, the humanity. Why on earth did douja
choose two Gallery members? And why did he make the contest for one
Yes, what was he smoking?
I think we all know the answer to that one. Well, the Gallery is laughing
it up in the ring now.
Here is your winner, Colonel "Pops" Khorne! Oh Lord,
that's just sad.
Indeed. And after that disgrace, I'm so glad we can finally end this
monstrosity of a card. For Captain Twilight and Jamal Tupac Mustafa, I'm
Angus "Vince" McMadden, saying, keep your pants off!
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo
Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre