Monday Nae Trous
Monday Nae Trous #53

(A corridor in Slobberknocker Arena. Almost all the STWF wrestlers are lined up in quite a long line indeed. Notably absent is the Rogue's Gallery. The Right Hand Man is pacing back and forth in front of them. He's ranting in a passable Ric Flair style.)
(Never mind.)
RHM: The time is at hand, men. And you few women, too. The Rogue's Gallery is out of control, and it's up to us to stop them. Every last one of us! I don't care. Face or heel, or in between, rolemodel, lawman, loner, mute, gibbering imbecile?! Everyone must fight. And fight we will. Thus it has been said, thus it shall be done!
(Monday Nae Trous intro is shown. Hokey rock abounds like so much ... hokey rock. Dr. Snare is shown winding up the bag of potpourri, but the actual use of aforementioned object is not seen. Your bad.)
WELCOME EVERYONE TO MONDAY NAE TROUS! I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden, accompanied of course by Captain Twilight and Jamal Tupac Mustafa.
Greetings, all. That's a nice sweater, Jamal, makes you look like Bill Cosby.
It was a gift from my momma. See, momma? I dress for da cold weather.
Explain the loincloth?
We've got an action-packed show for you tonight, and failing that, at least something that will hype Heart-Breaking Hell like there's NO tomorrow!
(Rogue's Gallery theme is played)
Uh-oh. Looks like the Gallery has something to say.
Hello, morons! I'm the Rogue, MISTER NUMERO UNO! And if you didn't know that, better learn it quickly because soon you'll be cursing it with every breath!
Now, our first order of business is this Elite Dwarf championship. Little André, you've shown us just what power we hold, that we can put anyone we want into any contendership position. But we never liked the stupid Elite Dwarf championship. You're GONE, my friend, and drop that belt in the trash on your way out!
Now. On to Heart-Breaking Hell.
What? You don't like the PPV? Or is it just that you...
Right Hand Man: I think that's just about enough out of you.
The Gallery is leaving the ring in disgust. Thank goodness.
RHM: Now, a lot of you are anticipating the glorious return of the Hubcap Gang. It's been re-formed, and I've found the new crop of corporate flunkies for whom you can cheer, for they are the elite fan favourites! Now first, the one you all know and love, who never really left the Hubcap Gang...B.F. Sack!
(The "Sanford and Son" theme plays. Huge pop.)
Sack: Well, thanks, Big Wheel, always a pleasure to be working for you. You've always been there, and I'm just returning the favour.
RHM: Great. And now, the newest members. Upon SuperWrestler's unfortunate deceit and subsequent firing, I decided to gather up a new lawman, to fight for order here in the STWF, especially over the Gallery. I give you...CLAUDE "LIGHTNING FINGERS" LEROUX!

(Claude plays himself in with "Proud Mary")
Claude: Good day, eh? Well anyhoo, I'm happy ta be here, and dispense some polka-flavoured justice! ... eh?
RHM: Absolutely. Now this next man I picked up as a complete surprise. Who would have thought that the man who prides himself on being alone...joins my stable? Well, here's the swerve of the century...LUKE WARM!

Neva woulda guessed.
It IS somewhat surprising.
Luke Warm: YEAH! I've got a celebratory Luke-Hoo right here! So if any of you who want to affront the establishment, I'm going to unload some 99.44% Pure Luke-Hoo on ya! And that's the lower lattitude. (gives another double thumbs-up to the crowd's approval)
RHM: And next. The mysterious. The former champion. One of the most underrated ever...come on down here!

(StreetMime descends from the rafters on a rappelling belt. He has trouble undoing the hook. The rest of the Hubcappers help him to remove it.)
StreetMime: " "
RHM: That's great, StreetMime. So the jokes stop NOW! Because StreetMime is an "elite face", and anyone who knocks him is a no-good, dirty rotten heel! Or something.
There is just one more in the grand scheme of the Hubcap Gang. And he's sitting in the announcers' booth...RIGHT NOW!

Cap? You went flunkie?
While it would be a good guess, I'm still in league with the Old Boys' Network, I'm afraid.
Yeah, right, like the play-by-play man is ever going to get an angle. I'm not the promoter, remember.
Then I guess it must be... me.
Man, it's hot in here! (he removes the sweater to reveal a Hubcap Gang T-shirt.)

Hey Right Hand Man! Why Jamal? WHY?!
RHM: Because nobody would have suspected it.
This is perhaps the dumbest thing I've witnessed in my long months of watching STWF wrestling.
What about the Thugs For Life?
I stand corrected. Well, we'll start things off slow and work up from there. It's the Organ Grinder vs. Intern Man!
Call it what you will, but Intern Man is anything but "slow".
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way to the ring first, from Köln, Germany, now making residence in Camden, Maine; weighing 148 lbs., THE ORGAN GRINDER!
("Shock the Monkey" by Peter Gabriel plays. The slimmed-down Organ Grinder comes out with his new monkey, J. Fred Kokomo, Junior. Helmut is still sadly missed. His music box has an IC sticker on it. You can buy your own IC stickers, $3.95 for a package of 6.)

And his opponent, from Bolivar, Tennessee, weighing 239 lbs. and accompanied by Nurse Heidi...Club Med's own INTERN MAN!
("Sun Hits the Sky" by Supergrass plays. Boy, he needs a new song. As if picking up on this, Vic the Sound Guy tries "Not the Doctor" by Alanis Morrissette for a while. The nervous-looking Intern Man staggers to the ring, takes some coffee from the thermos bottle, and hits the ring.)
***bell rings.
Alright, Intern Man looking spry in that ring, with that caffeine surging through his veins.
I honestly think that if he applied himself he could make a serious run at the ICCTINACBBIC belt.
I have to agree with you, Cap. Intern Man with a hiptoss. And look at those rapid-fire elbowdrops! It's a sight to be seen.
Just watch, he's liable to burn out.
It's always a possibility, Jamal, you're right. Intern Man with a German suplex. He bridges it into a pin: 1...2...kickout.
J. Fred Kokomo, Jr.: Reeeee! REEEE!
The monkey at ringside with some encouraging sentiments. The Organ Grinder trying to apply an offensive move, but Intern Man is really quick!
The Organ Grinder should focus on defense and wait for Intern Man to lag. It's the only way you can handle a guy jacked up on dark roast.
You makin' racial comments again, Cap?
"Dark roast" is not a racial comment, Jamal.
Better not be for your sake.
The Organ Grinder on the receiving end of an Irish whip to the buckle. He's going to take some smashes! 1,2,3,4,5,6,...
(time passes)
73! Wow, when Intern Man is hot, he's hot!
73? I counted 63. Musta counted a ten twice.
Whatever, it's still quite a bit. The Organ Grinder looks totally dazed, and who wouldn't be. Intern Man loosens his tie, and that's the signal... here comes the Wanna-Be-A-Doctor Bomb! He covers: 1...2...3! Oh yes, this is over.
Here is your winner, INTERN MAN!
Intern Man takes some more coffee and runs off. Nurse Heidi takes her time to leave the ring, and avoids the Head Trauma Boys in the audience.
(Cut to HTBs at ringside. They're holding their signs asking for contracts, in their own unique words. Violent Vinnie Mansbridge shows up and informs them that Flatline is in his seat. Vinnie receives a punch in the throat for his trouble.)
It's time for something moderately big now. (Angus pulls out a hat labelled "Upper Midcarders" and shuffles the contents around). It's...uh...DEATH! GENOCIDE! Yeah, that oughta do it.
Quick, give me the damn bio cards! Okay, thanks. Gee, took you long enough. *ahem* This contest is scheduled for one fall. Making his way down the aisle, representing the Rogue's Gallery...from Kiev, Ukraine, the monstrous SERGEANT GENOCIDE!
("Extermination Blues" by Robin Trower plays. The Sarge makes his way down a gauntlet of trash. He plucks a soda cup from mid-air and sips it with a smile on his face. More boos.)
And his opponent, from Death Valley, California, weighing 310 lbs., the Partying Reaper...DEATH!
(The funereal version of "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC plays. Death appears in a cloud of faintly blue, oh-so-funny-smelling smoke. Good pop.)

(covering his nose) I gotta go, my new image can't have me smellin' dis.
We won't hold our breath. *snicker*
Good one, Angus.
You're down to two again, I see. I'm sitting in.
Oh boy, we lose an "elite face" to receive an "elite heel".
We tell the truth, which may hurt. And may cause internal hemmorhaging. But it must be told, if we have to beat it into you!
***bell rings.
Death starts things off with a thumb to the eye.
That dirty cheater!
It's an effective way of cutting the big man down to size, and the Gallery is famous for stuff like that!
If you had a point, I didn't follow it.
Death slaps on an abdominal twist. Genocide hardly seems fazed at all. Genocide gets a handle on Death and gives him a vertical suplex forward!
That's not a bad tactic.
Genocide with a kneedrop. He's now working on the lower body of Death. Kicks (yeah!), chops (whoo!), and the occasional headbutt below the belt (ding!)
Leave the sound effects, McMadden, it's not effective.
Genocide stands up and salutes. The crowd gives another massive boo. He plucks ANOTHER soda cup tossed at him and takes another sip and laughs.
You'd think that was the tosser's intention the way he does that so flawlessly.
Wait, Death from behind, GOLOTTA!
Golotta? Just call it a "lowblow" or a "groinshot". Who do you think you are, Chris Zimmerman?
Yeah, who? Don't answer that. Death now has the advantage. Snapmare takeover by Death. And he slaps on an Asiatic spike!
Or, if you will, a Sharpened Pencil.
Could Death score big by taking down the Ukranian Monster? The ref is lifting the arms. Once...
That's it! (takes off his headset)
Colonel Khorne, get back here! Col. "Pops" Khorne just gave a dropkick to the back of Death's head! He could have beaten the Sarge cleanly, but it looks like a screwjob will be all he'll get.
Here is your winner, as a result of a disqualification, Death!
Col. Khorne and Sergeant Genocide double-teaming Death. He's squirming on the ground. But wait, it's Luke Warm! Luke Warm hits the ring to a large crowd response!
Of course it's large, he's an elite face now.
He takes out Col. Khorne with a Stonecutter. Khorne rolls out of the ring and skulks back to the announcer's booth. You should be ashamed of yourself, "Pops".
I don't feel shame. I gave it up for Lent.
That statement is wrong on so many levels.
Death leaves the ring in a cloud of smoke, and Luke Warm chugs back an ice-cold Luke-Hoo before taking off. Well folks, we've got to take a break right now. But we've got some debuts from some of our newcomers, so let's take a look at some now, as well as some brief messages.

(Fade in.The picture focuses in on a large close up of Homeless Huey the Hobo. He has long greasy hair, and a full bushy beard. He smiles at the camera revealing a mouthful of brown, crooked teeth. The camera picture wobbles around as he plays with the camera. He steps back to reveal a huge muscled man in blue Speedos in the background.)
HHH: Alright, we're ready to go I think.
Dan: Um, I thought the federation was sending down a crew for us?
HHH: We'll save money doing it ourselves.
Dan: I thought the promo was free....
HHH: Yeah, but I got the use of the camera and 20 bucks. And all it cost you was promise to take out the guy's fat cow of a daughter. Oh yeah, I left your dumbbells as collateral. So make sure she's felling lucky tonight, you know what I mean?
Dan: (looks seriously ill) Should the red light be on already?
HHH: (takes out a large bottle in a brown paper bag and takes a full swig back) Ahhh. I'm gonna save time by not editing. I'll let the guys down in the federation tower do the editing, they'll make sure you look good. Now shut up with the questions! I'm not paying you to think!
Dan: You're not paying me anything, I'm paying you.
HHH: Right, by the way I'll need more money for.... supplies.
Dan: But I only have enough money to finish wrestling school!
HHH: You don't need to finish now that we've got you in a federation. You can fake the rest. Now, let's get this thing underway! Just like we practiced.
(Dan strikes a body building pose)
HHH: Hello wrestling fans! Soon you will be treated to a hell of a! Behind me stands the newest wrestling sensation, ready to storm through the Stereo Type Wrestling Federation. His name? Dan "The Beachman" Smith. And he's not here ju st because no other league wanted him, this is where the real wrestling is, this was his first choice.
(It was?! That's creepy.)
Dan grew up in Alaska where he dreamed of being the guy who kicks sand in the face of the scrawny nerd in those comic book ads.
(Holds up a photograph to the camera of Dan, striking a pose in a fur parka in front of an igloo.)
When he arrived here at Muscle Head Beach, he had money, equipment, and money. But no place to stay. So I let him stay with me, over there under pier 12. After getting to know Dan, I realized he's not just another muscle-bound freak. He's a muscle-bou nd freak with a big heart. After watching wrestling degenerate into the trash it is today, where the bad guys are cool, and the good guys ain't so good, I knew Dan could make a difference. And damn it....
(Sniffles and wipes away a tear)
...he made me want to be a part of that. After telling him about the good he could do, Dan selflessly put aside his dream of modeling for MaxTrash Romance novels. So without further ado I present the man destined to be a legend, the phenom, the Beachman.
(Stands still for a second, then walks to the camera and picks it up. The picture turns sideways as HHH carries it to the next location. As the picture uprights we see an ice cream stand. Behind the stand is a scrawny teenager.)
HHH: (Steps on screen) The Beachman stands for justice! (Steps offscreen)
Dan: (Walks on screen, a little girl meets him with pigtails. She's crying and holding an empty ice cream cone) What's the matter, little girl?
Girl: (sniffling) my ice cweam fell off, and the man won't give me anymowe!
Dan: (turns around and grabs the teenager, pulling him over the counter. Dan promptly piledrives him into the sand. He hops over the counter, pulls out an ice cream cone and hands it to the little girl who happily runs off. The camera is once again turned sideways and dragged off to another location. When it rights itself we are looking at the beach and the ocean. A lifeguard is dragging a hot woman through the water to the beach.)
HHH: (Steps in front of the camera) The Beachman is the protector of the weak! (Steps off camera)
Dan: (walks toward the beach. As the lifeguard pulls the woman onto the beach, Dan shoves him away, and gives the woman mouth to mouth. A few seconds later she wraps her arms around him and pulls him close. A few more seconds later, HHH runs on screen , kicks Dan in the ribs, and runs off screen again.)
Dan: Are you all right, miss? (He turns his head and gives the camera a big smile.)
Woman: Not yet...I think I have something in my throat...maybe you can get it with your tongue? (As she pulls Dan back, the camera abruptly turns and is hauled away. It is set upright facing the beach in another location.)
HHH: (walks on screen) The Beachman is a man of honor. (Walks off screen.)
Dan: (walks on screen with the same woman, holding hands)
Woman: Thank you for saving my life. I want to show my appreciation by giving myself to you in every way. But I have a boyfriend.
Dan: I can't be with another man's woman.
Woman: Consider him gone.
Dan: Alright then. I'll be over as soon as I'm done my video. (Woman walks away)
HHH: (steps on screen) So beware! Because....
(falls to his knees, looks skyward, closes hi eyes, and screams) The Beachman cometh!
(stands up) Well, we're done. Whatcha think?
Dan: They'll edit it right?
HHH: Oh, yeah!
(Edit? Damn, I knew we forgot something.)
Dan: Still seems cheap and tacky to me. Sure it's believable?
HHH: You've got a lot to learn, Dan. You can put anything in front of a wrestling fan and he'll believe it. Good thing you have me to look out for you. Don't forget to pork that hog at 7!

(Recorded previously, from the unseen "Wide World Wrestling", where OddJobber actually has a chance at winning. STWF music brings back viewer(s) back from commercial to find Angus "Vince" McMadden standing in the ring with a microphone.)
Welcome to Wide World Westling, uh, Wrestling where the newbies aren't really new just washed up and from other federations and the jobbers are, well, jobbers. For all of you fans tuning in at home, 'This Week in Filipino Slap Fighting' will be back in this, its normal 2:30 AM time slot, next week.
Camera pans the packed bleachers of studio 4B, newly renovated from its last occupant, 'Cooking with Eric Roberts'. At least a dozen fans (including standing room only) cheer back. The film crew ducks out of view as the camera accidentally pans the other side of the ring.
We have a special occasion tonight as we welcome an old (and I mean old) ring legend to the STWF. Yes, the rumour that has been heating up the internet for weeks (which we had nothing to do with starting) is actually true. A veteran of the NWA (Now-we-wish-we-were-in-the World-wrestling-federation Association), WCNAWUW (West Coast Newbie And Washed Up Wrestling), FFSFF (Filipino Slap Fighting Federation), was really big in Japan, and is a **13 time** WCW (Women's Championship Wrestling) repeat sexual harassment offender, SLICK WILLY!
(Blue lighting washes over the set, uh, ring, and "Hail to the Chief" blasts out of the cheap in-studio speaker system. Slick Willy steps through the cardboard-painted-like-steel doors and gets blasted in the face by smoke. Willy recovers from the onslaught and makes his way to the ring, drapped in a sparkly blue trench coat. Fans go nuts as the "applause" sign flashes.
Welcome Slick Willy, to the STWF! Judging by that fan reaction we really threw our money out the window this time.
Willy: YEEEEHAAAWWW! Hey man, you should see those make-up gals Vince! I ain't wanted to do so much face painting since I had me an intern, Yeewhoooo!!"
Uh, yes Willy, we have some real beauties here in the STWF. But those make-up specialists weren't gals. Sorry. Speaking of which, we understand you blew an opportunity to join some REAL wrestling federations. Any insight on what brought you to the STWF?
Willy:Well, Vince man, y'see I had me a mix up with some o' them Nitro gals. I told 'em I wanted to show 'em my blower and they thought I was talkin' about my car, YEEEHAAAW!
Great, Willy.
You bet I do! Yipyee! Anyhow, I saw that RAW show and KNEW I'd fit right in, man.
So what happened Willy?
Willy: Vince man, after only one show they were tellin' me that I was too lewd, nasty and foul-mouthed for the WWF. Man, they also said that the way I portrayed women was DE-grading, man! Me! Anyhow man I luckily got a call from the STWF and here I am, Yip Yip YEEEEEHAAAAWWWW!!!!!
(Blood drains from McMadden's face)
That's great for us Willy, heh, ha, ughhh. Well Willy, now that your here we have to address another rumour starting up about you and your 'manager' the lovely Veronica. Word has it she knows zip about wrestling and is acually an ex-intern that you're taking advantage of.
Vince man, that's just a lie.
OK Willy, lets see what she has to say about it. Here she is, the lovely VERONICA!
("Veronica" by Elvis Costello plays and out walks Veronica in a blue dress.)
Well Veronica, what's this about your knowing nothing about wrestling and that you're just a Gratuitous Tina for the show.
Veronica: That's just a lie Vince.
Willy: I told ya Vince man, Yeewhoo! Let me tell ya, this woman would stoop to any level for me, man! There's no Job too hard for this lady, let me tell ya Vince HEEEHAAAWWW!!!!!

All I can say Willy, is that we and the fans look forward to your (possibly brief if I can help it) stay in the STWF.
Willy: Watch out ladies, here I Come, YEEEEHAAAWWWWW!!!!!
(fade out as Vince looks around nervously and Willy claps him on the shoulder.)

(Previously recorded from a house show. The lights dim. What appears to be a nun screams into a megaphone, "CAN YOU SMELL THE CAKE IN THE OVEN?!" It seems another nun has a tape recorder. One can vaguely hear what seems to be "Happy Birthday", but it isn't so happy. More like funeral music. What's this? The nuns have lit smoke bombs, yes smoke bombs, just like the ones you bought as a kid on the fourth of July. Or Victoria Day for you Canadians...or Guy Fawkes day...or whatever. Now another figure is appearing through the smoke. It is... a... a... Chef? But it's not Hammond Egger. He and his entourage of nuns are making their way to the ring. He is asking for the mike.)
Billy the Baker: Patty cake, patty cake, baker's man, bake me some blood as fast as you can! I'll tell you what. It was worth every penny I paid at the super industrial force factory school of wrestling to get the deluxe package and receive the incredible pyro and music effects for my inaugural ring entrance. Before I continue I would like to introduce my managers and not-so-spiritual guidance counselors. On my left the delicious Sister Deloris. And on my right, the masculine-yet-disturbingly-attractive Sister Muffy. We are here for one reason and one reason alone. Yes, we are here to kick everybody's <-BLEEP-> in the name of better Satanic cakemaking, of course. But our primary mission, no not titles. We are going to be holding a weekly fundraiser selling cupcakes and other pastries all in the name of bigger and better pyro effects. Yes, that is right. No more smoke bombs, our first goal is to implement Roman Candles into our ring entrance. I know, you all are saying, "Who the hell is this guy? And how can a nobody expect to have such lofty goals coming out of nowhere?" Well, Billy the Baker is my name and bigger and better pyro is my game. Not to mention the production and illegal distribution of cursed baked goods to you, the unknowing fools. But hey, we all have goals. So be warned. As Satan lives in my rolling pin, I will have pyro if my cakes kill you, by Lucifer, so be it. Right sisters? Muffy?... Deloris?...
Sister Muffy: Oh sorry Billy, Deloris thought she might have had a lump in her breast, so I was helping her check. But not to worry she is OK, but I'll check later just to make sure. We're going to need her for the big bake sale, not to mention destroy all those sinners in the wrestling world.
Billy: Sisters, I think I left my Easy-Bake Oven(TM) on in the locker room. Sister Muffy, rewind and cue the music.

(The mysteriously odd Billy the Baker and his nun managers have apparently had their tape eaten by the tape player. Well folks, it has to be expected from such a unproven newcomer. Be on the look out for Billy the Baker and his quest for pyro, and maybe a little wrestling too.

(A dark street somewhere in the nightclub district of Kitchener/Waterloo. Camera zooms into one of the clubs, and into a backroom. There are five men sitting around a table, all wearing cloaks of black, with hoods not on. The tall one speaks.)
Tall One:Gentlemen, it appears that the time has come... Mr. Baxter, are you ready?
Tall One: So it's settled then... We shall take the STWF... BY FORCE!!!
ALL: Bua-ha-ha-ha!!!
Tall One: Lenny, you shall be the first, perhaps the only one of us to enter that fabled circled square. Have you mastered your skills?
Baxter: I have. Head-Explody is down pat. The turkey curse has been perfected, and the mystic-shooty-fire-bally-thingee-of-misfortune is well on its way!
Tall One:Yes. And when - sorry, if - these things don't work?
Baxter: I've learnt the ways of the wrestler.
Tall One:It is good then. YOu have gotten all of your proper Magical Tattoos of Magic and Stuff(TM)??
Baxter: Yes, plus I got a smileyface one.
Tall One: (smacking head) It will have to do. Gentlemen, let us go forth into the STWF, and show the world that WE SHALL CONQUER!!!!
ALL: Bua-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!

(And with a grin, Lenny "the Force" Baxter, steps away from the table and begins his long trek to the Ivory Tower or wrestling, where he will prove, once and for all, that short square guys can be just as mean -even if they do have a smileyface tattoo- as anybody else. But first, let's party.)

Friday Friday Friday. GONE FOREVER?! SAY IT AIN'T SO!
Yes, we're afraid it's true. But we just couldn't hold a Friday market anymore. Fear not, however; we've got a BRAND NEW SHOW coming down the pike for you! It'll have all the Friday Friday Friday mediocrity you've come to expect, and we'll even keep the song (albeit somewhat modified)! Coming after Heart-Breaking Hell, our new show:
Our first-ever TSO card will feature in the main event:
Thursday Something-or-Other. Watch for it. Or something.

(The announcers' booth. Angus, Captain Twilight and Col. "Pops" Khorne have their headsets off and are sharing a box of doughnuts. The Kamera Kid tells them they're on. Angus spits out his hot chocolate and slaps on his headset.)
We're back! Boy, I thought it would take up all our remaining TV time for a second.
Pass that prune danish, would you, Colonel?
I refuse to touch anything with prunes with my bare hands. (pushes it along the table using a pen)
Up next, the ICCTINACBBIC belt is ON THE LINE! douja is set to take on Jeffrey Steingold. I hope there won't be any more "help" on your part, "Pops"?
I've used my "announcer interference" ration for the week. So no, I'm just going to sit here and talk trash.
And that's changing your routine up how?
This contest is for the Intercontinental Cruiserweight "This Is Not A Championship Belt But It's Close" belt, and is set for one fall. First, from Manhattan, New York and weighing 113 lbs., the 88-year old of Grampa's Old Boys, JEFFREY STEINGOLD!
Voiceover: Old-Old-Old Boys' Network.
("The Dreidel Song" plays. Jeffrey enters to a wheezing pop from the seniors in the front row.)
And his opponent, the ICCTINACBBIC champion...from Parts Forgotten and weighing 245 lbs., douja!
("Roll it Up, Light it Up, Smoke it Up" by Cypress Hill. douja makes it to the ring, and lights up for no good reason. He tosses the belt at a ring attendant.)

***bell rings.
Captain, do you think Steingold has a chance?
Oh, I think he can pull it off...heh heh heh.
If you're planning to interfere, I'm going to stop you. That's MY title shot at Heart-Breaking Hell.
Sorry to break your heart, but go to Hell. Ha ha!
Quit acting like children. Steingold with a drop toehold. And he grinds that wingtip into douja's face. douja is trying desperately not to extinguish his...well, you know.
No we don't; enlighten us.
No. Steingold with a bulldogging headlock. He goes to the top rope. Flying double legdrop.
That's it! Beautiful, baby, beautiful!
I believe it's against the law to use that phrase without a megaphone.
What luck! There's a mega...
Oh, no you don't. Give me that! Steingold makes the cover: Jeffrey tries again: 1...2...douja catapults him to the ropes with the forceful kickout. douja is up and gives Steingold an avalanche. Steingold crumbles. douja covers: 1...and only 1.
Come on douja, you can do better than that! Keep that belt, I need to take it away from you!
Both men up. Jeffrey Steingold putting the boots to douja. Punches and sidekicks and chops, oh my! He pushes douja down and hooks the leg: 1...2...ooh, that was close, douja just got the shoulder up. douja's cheeks look all puffy. Is he swollen?
All the better. Maybe I can win by forfeit.
No! douja was just holding his breath. He blows a faceful of smoke into Jeffrey Steingold's eyes! Steingold is blind, and probably more than a little buzzed! How could douja do this after the Old Boys' Network tried to help him so?
He'll get his.
douja is setting up for the Chronic Neck Pain!
Not if I can stop it.
Not you too! Khorne, stop him!
I was bluffing. I can't; my ration is used up.
Captain Twilight takes the ICCTINACBBIC belt and nails douja with it! The ref didn't see! douja falls but completes the piledriver anyway!
The ref counts 1...2...3! And douja retains the belt.
Here is your winner, and STILLLLLL ICCTINACBBIC champion, douja!
douja celebrates with another long smoke.
douja: Man, I'm hungry. Maybe I can get some popcorn, or sumpin' from that big peanut guy. O' maybe dat penguin dere's got a fish o' two.
There's no penguin, for those of you keeping score at home.
(scribbling) No...penguin. Okay, thanks.
douja: Hey, dose nuns got some brownies fo' me.
Those nuns look familiar. As if I'd seen them...during the break...those are Muffy and Deloris! Why are they giving him brownies?
They're nuns. That's what they do. You notice that they're sharing a rosary, Vince? What's that mean?
You're right. It just goes from one habit to the other. Er...vow of poverty thing? douja looks stranger than usual. He just dropped to the ground. And Billy the Baker from the audience, he's beating on douja with that rolling pin! This is disgusting.
Why? I'm loving it. Maybe I'll tell the Rogue about Billy the Baker. He's got Gallery-ite potential.
Whatever. It's time for the main event! An Intergalactic ladder match. The Tiger...vs. "Flash" Flanagan.
"Flash" is going to have to hump to beat someone like the Tiger.
You're telling me! This up-and-comer is going to have a title shot as his third match, with only one win over former champ (and now Hubcapper) StreetMime. I wish him all the luck in the world.
This is a ladder match, for the STWF Intergalactic Championship. The belt is suspended above the ring now. Entering first, the challenger, from Corinth, Kentucky, and weighing 275 lbs..."Flash" Flanagan!
Voiceover: It's time to get real real.
("It's All Been Done" by the Barenaked Ladies plays as Flanagan enters to some pop and more laughs. A sign shows Nelson from the Simpsons, with a speech balloon saying, "Ladder Match? Haw haw!")
And his opponent, the STWF Intergalactic Champion, and the first Intergalactic Champion...ever...representing the Inner Circle...THE TIGER!
("Intergalactic" by the Beastie Boys plays to a gigantic pop. The Tiger is wearing a "Rack 'Em Up!" T-shirt and is handing out freebies to kids. Cut to a twentysomething wearing said shirt and looking hideously out-of-date.)

***bell rings.
The Tiger wasting no time. Dropkick by the Tiger. Reverse atomic drop by the IG champ. There's a military press slam. "Flash" is up.
Flash Flanagan executes a European uppercut on the Tiger.
The Tiger hits Flash Flanagan with a punch.
The Tiger chops Flash Flanagan.
Flash Flanagan nails the Tiger with a headbutt.
A portion of the crowd is booing Flash Flanagan.
Oh, Sweet Mother of Mercy, no!
For the Love of the Rogue, no!
He's taken his revenge! NO! I can't take this! I must go!
Please, Cap, I'm scared, don't leave me alone with him!
You're right; strength in numbers. Where's that eerie laughing coming from?
Flash Flanagan uses a jumping DDT on the Tiger.
Flash Flanagan is climbing the ladder.
Flash Flanagan is up one-third of the ladder.
Flash Flanagan is halfway up the ladder.
The Tiger knocks Flash Flanagan off the ladder.
Damn you, Darkspawn! Damn you to Klee!
I think it's against the law to mention Klee outside the confines of Mentally Challenged Wrestling.
The Tiger signals for the Tiger Rack.
A portion of the crowd is cheering for the Tiger.
The Tiger executes the Tiger Rack on Flash Flanagan.
Flash Flanagan is valiantly trying to break the hold.
Flash Flanagan's shoulders touch the mat: 1...2...kickout.
Damn it, this is a ladder match!
Not to mention a Tiger Rack doesn't put the shoulders even CLOSE to the mat.
The Tiger is climbing the ladder.
The Tiger is one-third of the way up the ladder.
The Tiger is halfway up the ladder.
The Tiger is near the top rung of the ladder.
The Tiger makes a grab for the belt.
The Tiger grabs the belt.
A small "The Tiger" chant is being started.
Flash Flanagan complains about a slow count.

The winner is the Tiger. Time of match: 0:07:07
Ominous voice: Cross me, will you? Ha ha. Pitiful booked federation, you will be crushed like the creative insects you are.
Folks, we've got to go. We'll try and fix Vince for Heart-Breaking Hell. We're sure his hypnotic condition is only temporary. For Colonel "Pops" Khorne and Angus "Vince" McMadden, I'm Captain Twilight saying, keep your pants off, and we'll see you at Heart-Breaking Hell!
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre