Monday Nae Trous
Monday Nae Trous - guaranteed 100% free of Blue Meanie references (this week anyway)

(Pan interior of the Slobberknocker Arena. Life is good, but for how long?)
Welcome everyone to Monday Nae Trous! I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden, along with Captain Twilight, and Jamal Tupac Mustafa. And we've got an action-packed show for you tonight! We're going to kick it off with a special challenge. Dr. Snare and Intern Man have stolen the OCSCW tag team belts and wish to challenge their champions, Me & Him, the Personal Pronouns. Dr. Snare and Intern Man are in the ring now.
Snare: Well, guys, come on! We've got your belts, come and get 'em! Intern Man, you got enough coffee?
Intern Man: (jittering) Enough? Y-y-y-yeah, I guess you c-c-c-could say that. B-b-b-but ask me again in five m-m-m-minutes.
Here come the Personal Pronouns now.
We're going to have a hell of a time calling THIS match. Is this even STWF sanctioned?
I don' t'ink so. So I'm puttin' in a call to da Right Han' Man. He'll fix dis.
You wouldn't dare!
It's da right ting ta do. And da fans'll love me fo' it.
(Crowd starts up a "J-T-M" chant. He stands up, turns around and waves to a larger pop.)
Well now I've seen everything.
*bell rings once and is interrupted.
RHM: Alright, Snare, hold it RIGHT THERE.
Dr. Snare: What's your problem, man? I thought you'd be happy we were doing this.
RHM: Some part of me is glad you are so active in your hatred for the Darkspawn. But this just isn't right! Stealing belts is wrong. Are you with me on this, folks?
(crowd cheers)
Besides, I know your TRUE motive. You're doing this tag team stuff to avoid defending your North American Belt. That ends today. Intern Man, go take a nap. I've put up a cot in the locker room for you. You could use it. (cheers)
Intern Man: R-r-r-really? Thanks! I haven't had a n-n-n-nap in ages. (runs off)
RHM: Now hand the belts back, apologize, and get ready to defend your belt....AGAINST LUKE WARM!
For starters? This is amazing!
The crowd is ecstatic, but Dr. Snare is hopping up and down like the heel that a member of Club Med would be.
*pant* *pant* Am I on cue? Okay. This contest is for the North American Championship, and is set for one fall. Currently in the ring, from Jackson, Tennessee, weighing in at 275 lbs., the STWF North American Champion, DOCTOR SNARE! (boos)
His opponent, from Bumbledink, Texas (cheers), weighing in at (cheers) 255 lbs., here (cheers) ENOUGH ALREADY, WAIT FOR HIM! ... here is LUKE WARM!
(The sound of stuff breaking plays. Huge pop. Nobody shows. The theme is played again. Bigger pop. Luke still doesn't show. The theme is played a third time. Doctor Snare is staring down the ramp and waiting. Luke Warm appears from behind and attacks to cheers.)
***bell rings.
Snare was certainly caught off guard there. He could have a hell of a time winning this considering Club Med still aren't here. Luke Warm kicking Dr. Snare three ways from Thursday Something-or-Other! Snare putting up minimal offense, he was really surprised! STONECUTTER! STONECUTTER! STONECUTTER! This one could be over just like that...
1...2...3!
Yeah, boyeeee! Da Hubcappas be trippin', 'cause we's gots a belt now!
Er...I couldn't have put it better myself (shrugs to camera)
What an amazing victory for Luke Warm.
RHM: And NOW, Snare, you can muck around with the Darkspawn's minions as much as you like. (cheers)
Okay! We have a special challenge to take care of right now. Mittens was challenged by "Flash" Flanagan to a Coal Miner's Glove match.
Has he been hanging around douja or the Aboriginals? Because he must have been smoking SOMETHING.
It's a strange business. Many think that Flanagan might be biting off a little more than he can chew, but others are saying it's a chance for him to really showcase his skills and get somewhere here. Jamal? Your thoughts?
I t'ink now's a good time ta go ta de concession stand.
This is a Coal Miner's Glove match, and is set for one fall. Making his way first, from Corinth, Kentucky, and weighing...something... "Flash" Flanagan!
Voiceover: It's gonna get real real.
("It's All Been Done" by the Barenaked Ladies plays. People are booing "Flash" left, right, and center. Even behind the curtain?
Flanagan: I don't deserve this! I'm a face, damn it! Get it straight!
And his opponent...*snicker*...accompanied by Grampa, weighing...something plus a whole lot more...MITTENS!
("Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" plays as the eerily grinning Mittens appears and gives his propeller-beanie a little twirl. Good pop.)
Grampa: Now boy, are you sure you want to go through with this? Mittens is afraid of overexposing himself here. Maybe you'd like to face Arnold again?
Flanagan: I'm not facing that freak, I'm taking the freak that you brought out now.
Grampa: How about Bill Murtough? He hasn't spoken in a while, you could beat him pretty easily I think. I could coax him out here...
Oh GAWD naw.
Flanagan: Listen here, old timer, I want to beat this moron here right now! So let's get this over or you're getting double!
Bad move, if you ask me.
Mittens: Nobody speaks to my best pal Grampa like that! RRRAAAAAA!
Mittens is rushing the ring in a frenzy! His defense of his manager is nothing short of admirable.
And he put up an excellent fight against Bohemoth on Thursday. It'll be interesting to see how he handles our young friend here.
Flanagan with some chops on the big lug. Mittens is just glaring down at him. He picks up "Flash"...chokeslam! Mittens jumps onto the top rope and pauses a bit to regain his balance...huge splash! Flanagan is flatter than...
A potato latke!
Yeah, sure, why not. Are you sure it's wise hanging around the Chosen Ones?
Yeah, Cap. You gotsta hang around wit' da Big Wheel if y'all are gonna get anywhere.
Jamal with another plug for the Right Hand Man and his Hubcap Gang.
Well, sho'. Since I joined, I'm makin' the same as you now, V.
(turning red, and through clenched teeth) I see. I'm so happy for you.
Mittens is bounding up the ladder steps two at a time! The ref is telling him to move slowly so Flanagan can pull him back down, but he's not listening! Mittens has the glove! He's slapping the daylights out of the fallen Flanagan.
Welcome to da STWF, boyeee.
Flanagan gets to his knees. Mittens whomps him on the head with the glove again and down he goes. Mittens rolls him over: 1...2...3. You could have counted to 58.
Why 58?
Because it's not 59, of course.
Let's see dat again. Now right here, dere's dat big WHOMP on Flanagan's head. And dere's the rollover for da 1-2-3. Yo' winna, Mittens.
Have you been stealing Bobby Heenan's cards again?
Bobby who?
Forget it. Now as a result of the Billy/Petey match at Untested, the loser had to face StreetMime. So without further ado, let's see Billy the Baker taking on StreetMime, the least athletic member of the Hubcap Gang, I guess you could say.
Cain't deny it, but sho' can resent it.
This contest is set for one fall. Making his way down the aisle first, from Nice, France, he weighs in at Parts Unknown, he is....StreetMime!
(Maurice Chevalier sings about Paris as StreetMime does his "walking against the wind" to the ring. Big pop for the mime. He leans on an imaginary table inside the ring and waits.)
His opponent, from Las Vegas, Nevada, accompanied by Sisters Muffy and Deloris, he is the Satanic Cakemaker...BILLY THE BAKER!
("Happy Birthday" in funereal style plays as he enters. The nuns have Roman candles and try to set them off, but the Pyro guys get into an altercation with them. This angle is quickly scrapped and they move on.)
That's an awfully nice shiner Billy is sporting.
Don't underestimate dose nuns.
***bell rings.
Billy the Baker picks up the Coal Miner's Glove that was left in the ring and slaps StreetMime across the face with it! Listen to all those boos. StreetMime is down, he was totally not expecting that. 1...2...3. For a StreetMime match, that was probably longer than average.
Here is your winner, Billy the Baker!
Here comes dat guy in da peanut suit...what'shisface, Mista Plantaz.
Billy exits the ring and tries to beat on Mr. Planters. He spots something out of the corner of his eye. Is that Petey the Peanut Guy in the stands? Billy the Baker walks over to confront him. That doesn't look like Petey though.
Mr. Planters nails Billy in the back of the head with a tray! He then takes off the head to reveal that he's indeed Petey! They pulled a switch! Billy and the two nuns are now beating on Petey the Peanut Guy. Sure he had the surprise...but he didn't follow up!
I guess the rookies will learn more with experience.
Some wrestlers NEVER learn, Vince. Fact of wrestling life.
Unfortunately, I have to agree with that statement.

(Cut to backstage. The Right Hand Man is talking with Homeless Huey the Hobo and Dan "Beachman" Smith.)
RHM: I know, you're not booked for a match. I'll get you something good for Thursday. How about Hector "Crude" Oil? You could really showcase your skills against a guy like him, not to mention taking down one of our enemies. I promise you, though, you could be BIG, given the right guidance.
Huey: HEY!
RHM: No offense, Huey. Think about it, Dan, you'll have a whole group to...hey! Who let the Kamera Kid in here?! This is a private conversation!
Kamera Kid: Then why are you talking in a hallway?
RHM: Get out of here. You cameraguys are a dime a dozen.

Are we on?
Like neckbone.
Ha ha, what?
Ignore him. Let's get to the main event. B.F. Sack is scheduled to face Prisoner X. This match took some time to book, but I'm sure it will be totally worth it.
This match is scheduled for one fall. Making his way first, with his manager The Warden, and the Organ Grinder, who's just along for the ride...from New York City, weighing 260 lbs., PRISONER X!
("Hell's Bells" by AC/DC fills the Slobberknocker Arena. Mixed reaction....remember who he's facing.)
And his opponent, one of the biggest fan favourites ever to grace the STWF, two-time Heavyweight Champion which is somewhat meaningless in the age of the Intergalactic Belt...Beee.....Effff....SACK!
(The theme to "Sanford and Son" plays. Is this getting old, or what? Sack enters with a "Where's Grady?" T-shirt. Gigantic pop, as befits a Hubcapper.)
Jamal? Are you going somewhere? Why are you folding up your chair?
No reason.
You're not going to sit next to the Creepy Timekeeper, are you?
(cut to a shot of the Creepy Timekeeper. He has severely crooked brown teeth and his hair is arranged in a conical formation on his head. He has black rings around his eyes, and is licking a gigantic swirlie-coloured lollipop. He's wearing a tweed jacket and a tie, but he's shirtless.)
Creepy Timekeeper: It's okay. I won't bite. But I can sniff, though, can't I?
*shudder* Oh GAWD naw. I just...wanna...stretch my legs. (smacks chair against announcer's table) Put 'im right here, Sack!
Sack: Can do.
***bell rings.
Sack and the Prisoner lock up. Prisoner X with a hiptoss. He slaps on a VICIOUS armbar. I guess he has some aggression issues to settle.
Irving has a nephew who's a psychiatrist, I'm sure they can work that out.
Wouldn't he be Jeffrey's nephew too? They ARE brothers. Don't answer that. Sack reaches the ropes. He bounces off them now. Pump-handle forearm smash by Sack.
How can you...oh, I give up.
I won by submission!
You two, please! Why the colour commentators have to sit next to each other I don't know. And why I'M on the side closest to the Creepy Timekeeper is something I have to discuss with Der Kommissaar. Prisoner X puts on his Garvin Stomp. He really enjoys stomping, much like Dr. Plants and Sasquatch. Who IS writing this script? Man, I've seen better writing from university students who think they know wrestling.
Vince?
Yeah?
Nothing. *chuckle*
Prisoner working on that knee. He's taking him outside for a ringpost figure-four! Break the hold before we get sued! He complies.
Sack! He's outta da ring! Now!
Organ Grinder: J. Fred, go for the face!
J. Fred Kokomo, Jr.: REEEEE! REEEEE!
With a mighty leap, the monkey has latched firmly onto Jamal's face! Unfortunately, since Jamal is a good guy, the Organ Grinder is getting booed, regardless if Jamal deserves it or not.
Sack tries to toss the Prisoner over. Jamal swinging wildly. By some stroke of luck, he connects with Prisoner X! Now Jamal is trying to use the chair to remove the monkey. He smashes the chair at his own face, and Kokomo jumps off just in time to see Jamal smack himself.
Serves ya right.
Prisoner X is in deep trouble here. The Warden is trying to help, but it's like beating on an oak tree. Here comes Claude Leroux to restrain the Warden! More cheers from the crowd. Both men in the ring. Sack slaps on the Domino Effect! Some time passes...the ref is saying this one's over!
Here is your winner...B.F. SACK!

(cut to the leaded glass door in Der Kommissaar's corridor of the Ivory Tower. It's quite obvious the Head Trauma Boys are in there with DK.)
Flatline: Now will you ......uhhhhhh...what was that word? Sign? Us?
Coma: Hee heee heee heee...snowglobe.
Der Kommissaar: If our tag division wasn't so pathetic, I'd be sure to give you the runaround forever. But what the hell, it's not likely you'll get the belts anyway. We just need ranking fodder. Sign these. Pains me to do it, but I'm giving you the contract.
Flatline: Uhhhh....really? (grabs a letter opener, thinking it's a pen, then eventually gets a REAL pen.)
Der Kommissaar: No. Not really. Hahahaha! I was going to...but I don't take kindly to letters like these. Allow me to read the letter you sent.
UhhHhHhh...iF yoU dOn't SIgn us, dK, uhhh....sOMeThinG baD WilL HAPpEn 2 yoU'RE wIfe.
Coma: So? Wobble.
So...one. This is a threat. Two. I don't have a wife. Three. You used "you're" as in "you are" instead of "your" as in "belonging to you". I HATE THAT! Now get off my property before the Caretaker chases you away with a mop.
Flatline: You can't....uhhh....ignore us forever. And I've got a trackball in my pocket, with my 3 1/2" disk. Two to beam up, Chief Kyle!
DK: I don't have time for this. And I thought Violent Vinnie Mansbridge had problems. Go away.

Time for closing comments.
Right! On behalf of Captain Twilight and the slightly-unconscious Jamal Tupac Mustafa, this is Angus "Vince" McMadden saying, keep your pants off!
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre