Monday Nae Trous
Monday Nae Trous - can you believe the hype?

(Our show begins with a shot of the Ivory Tower, gleaming faintly as the black birds circle around. The next shot is the leaded glass door, with silhouettes that can only be Der Kommissaar and the Right Hand Man.)
RHM: I'm telling you, DK, the fans aren't happy with your behaviour! They think you're holding a grudge here.
DK: Grudge? No. But these two are constantly harassing me! You don't know what it's like.
RHM: Of course I do, I am Luke Warm's advisor after all.
DK: I won't ask what that means. But do you think the fans are really that adamant about this?
RHM: Absolutely. They even signed this petition! Here. They want this to happen, and the sooner the better.
DK: I don't know...this could have serious implications later.
RHM: Come on! You've signed worse than this. The Thugs for life...the Bad <-BLEEP->ses...the Sanitation Crew...
DK: Alright, alright! Hand me the stupid contract already, just stop bringing up my past mistakes. (receives a paper and quickly signs it.)
There. The Head Trauma Boys are now officially in the STWF, and may God have mercy on our souls.
RHM: (looking out the window, whispering) What have we done?

Welcome everyone to another fantastic Monday Nae Trous! And this on the heels of an amazing announcement, the Head Trauma Boys make their debut tonight!
I can only guess what we're going to get from them.
Man, da executives signed da contract, dey know what dey doin'.
Well, let's kick it off then, it's the Head Trauma Boys vs. the Aboriginals.
This contest is scheduled for one fall or a reasonable facsimile. Making their way first, those wacky Aboriginals! Oh yeah.
(The native chants. The Rogue's just happy to hear the boos as the perpetually dazed Natives enter.)
And their opponents, making their STWF debut, the men everyone loves to wonder if they'll ever get their contracts signed...and yes! It's done! With a combined weight of 502 lbs., here are Flatline and Coma, the HEAD TRAUMA BOYS!
(The HTBs enter to a Ramones medley. The crowd is into it. The Boys are jumping all over the ring and performing maneuvers you could only call "suicidal". The Aboriginals look more than wary. The Rogue looks confused. The Creepy Timekeeper gives an approving nod and...)

***bell rings.
It's Flatline, the more "vocal" member, up against A1. He's far from A1, though, isn't he?
Ha ha! Thass a good one, V.
I can't believed I actually liked you better when you were more cynical.
A1 with a clothesline on the turnbuckle and look at it shudder! Flatline with a perfectly executed Asai moonsault! Too bad he was about six feet away from any living being.
I hope someone gets a hit in sometime. Otherwise this could take a while.
I have to agree. Wait! By pure fluke A1 got in an elbow. He actually follows it up with a kick!
Someone's goin' on offense!
And it's the Aboriginals?! A1 is actually beating on Flatline in a moment of clarity, and tags in A2.
That could be unwise. I don't think A2 is nearly that coherent today.
Flatline goes for the fresh man, Coma. Coma jumps the ropes and gets a bootlace snagged. What action! Okay, the ref helps him out by tearing the bootlace free. Coma is up. Dropkick completely misses. Dropkick hits the ref. Dropkick hits A2! This could be it folks. Split-leg moonsault gets a nice flick on A2. Not a full-on, but good enough. Coma with a cover: 1...2...3. A2 is just drooling in the middle of the ring. The Rogue seems apathetic. He knows that the Aboriginals aren't much, but at least they're still getting paid, and he can skim their salaries.
What's da Rogue gonna do wit' skimmed paint thinner?
Er...Cap? Insights?
I wanna be sedated.
No time for that now, here's a BIG confrontation to take care of. It's an "extreme HAAAAAARDCORE" match. Irving Goldstein will tackle douja like he's never been tackled before. And douja will tackle Irving in ways he probably has been tackled before, just like the time he was thrown through the plate glass window by his brother Jeffrey Steingold.
Let's not forget that douja's taken a lump or two. Do we need to show the Moving Bus Match again?
No. Chet wouldn't do it anyway. They have to rent Monster Bash if they want to see it now. The rubber-tipped barbed wire has been set up. The break-away tables are ready to go. The aluminum steps have been reinforced with tin. And of course, the pièce de resistance...the plastic wastebasket!
(Golf clap from all over the arena.)
***bell rings.
It's Irving who gets the first move, he Irish whips douja right into that barbed wire! douja walks away with nothing more than a few sharp jabs. douja's turn to get HAAAAAARDCORE. He's bringing out a sack of blunted thumbtacks! Irving gets bodyslammed on them.
Thass not juss pain, thass Motrin pain!
Have you been getting ad money, Jamal?
Yeh, so?
Nothing. douja continues the assault. That plastic wastebasket is being handled brilliantly. Irving is going down. douja makes a cover: He puts that plastic wastebasket over Irving's head and starts playing it like a bongo!
Shades of Rodney Ricardo!
Indeed. Irving has shaken off the wastebasket, and douja goes into that rubber-tipped barbed wire again! Ohhh, the mayhem we're experiencing tonight! douja locks Irving in the barbed-wire ropes! And stomping away at the old Jewish man.
Come on Irving, you can rally! COME ON!
Irving powers out. douja is begging off. Irving Goldstein takes douja and HEAVES him over the side right towards the breakaway table!
Dat table broken cleanly in half! Not even a splinta.
It's hard to believe, isn't it? douja tries to get up, but it's slow work. Irving Goldstein with a springboard double legdrop through the remainders of the table! Ouch. Irving pauses to remove some blunted thumbtacks from his shirt.
What a match!
Irving rolls douja back in. douja collects some blunted thumbtacks on his clothes. But he's HAAAAAAAAAARDCORE. He can take it. douja with a military press on those blunted thumbtacks, he makes another cover: NO! It's reversed, small package by the 90-year-old: 1.....2........kickout. Awwww.
Dat was too close.
You're darn tootin'. douja's angry at that. DDT on the plastic wastebasket. And now it's the Chronic Neck Pain! This one is finished. The cover: 1....2....3!
Here is your winner, douja!
Well, we'll get back all those wins and more come In Your Face: IceJam.
Of course you will. Of course, Captain. But's a great match that nobody can afford to miss! The Tiger and Sergeant Genocide! It's gonna be nasty, it's gonna be brutal, it's gonna be STWF! But first, these commercials.

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We're back. Sergeant Genocide is in the ring and looking very menacing indeed. Ooh, scary.
And his opponent, from Richmond Virginia, the first-ever and former Intergalactic champion, THE TIGER!
(The old Survivor theme plays. He enters and shakes a few hands, looking like he's trying to recapture some past glory or something.)

***bell rings.
The crowd gets into this right away! Luckily we have security staff on hand to escort them to the locker room and provide adequate beatings before laying charges. Meanwhile, the Tiger gives the Sarge a vicious side legsweep and both men crash to the mat with an amplified thud.
That says "awesome thud".
Well excuse me if there's a coffee stain here. Besides, I wasn't wrong, technically. The Tiger to the middle rope, flying elbowdrop. He picks up Genocide with a little difficulty and Genocide goes RIGHT back down. A cover: 1...kickout.
Y'all eva notice dat da Gallery gets mo' time dan da Hubcappas?
That's because the faces don't need to wrestle as much to draw heat. Ask can't say his last name.
I don't know any wrestlers named Steve.
How about Scott?
None that come to mind.
It's all irrelevant anyway, all we know is that the Tiger is in full control. That cat-o'-nine tails is pulled out of nowhere. Genocide is being whipped like a govern....
If the next syllables are "ment mule" so help me I'll hurt you.
That's even worse!
Genocide just grabbed the flail and now he's smiling. The Tiger is getting some of his own medicine. How do you like it, Tiger? Doesn't feel too good, does it?
Wait a just read Colonel "Pops" Khorne's line. But he's not....
(shown wearing a gag) Mmph! Mmpmfmmmmfffssss! (tossed offscreen)
How do you like it, Tiger? Doesn't feel too good, does it? There. What'd I miss?
You missed Genocide taking a harsh beating.
I meant important stuff. Did the Aboriginals win?
Of course not.
Do we know the mystery IceJam participant?
No...and enough of your questions. Genocide with a military press slam (nothing less). He pulls up the Tiger by the hair and rips him back to the canvas with AUTHORITY!
Give this man a title shot!
Granted, beating the Tiger would be a big feather in the Sergeant's beret. But would Der Kommissaar really do that? Give yet another Gallery-ite a title shot? It's doubtful. Sergeant now with a chokeslam.
You need more enthusiasm.
What do you mean?
All power moves have to be repeated three times and yelled. CHOKESLAM! CHOKESLAM!! CHOKESLAM!!!
He's got a point.
I'll try to do better, even if it is for the Gallery. Tiger gets back some momentum. Vertical suplex by the Tiger. REVERSE CHINLOCK! REVERSE CHINLOCK! REVERSE CHINLOCK!
What are you DOING, Vince? How much experience did you say you had behind a mic?
I'll ignore that. Genocide breaks the chinlock. Knife-edge chop, whip to the buckle, shoulderblock lands well. The hair is grabbed and Tiger is whipped around like a rag doll. The cover by the Gallery-ite:
Slow count! They're trying to keep us down.
I wonder if we can go back to Thursday when the Tiger beat the living crap out of Genocide.
I already bought that tape off of Chet, so I don't think so.
Didn't know you were such a Tiger fan, Khorne. Ha ha! Tiger with an eyerake. Genocide comes back with one of his own that sends the Tiger reeling. LOWBLOW! LOWBLOW! LOWBLOW!
Okay, I guess it was acceptable in that case.
Tiger whipped to the ropes...this could be the Eliminator! YES!
I don't believe it. When did lowblows become legal?
About the same time we lost all the heroes in the game. Sometimes I wish this cape could instill pride in all the little Captains out there. Unfortunately all the little Captains are in their 60s now. And half of them don't even remember me.
They don't remember a lot of things, Cap. Genocide is making those belt motions...he could be making a play.
And why not? He's capable.
Yeah, in theory. And now, in the "Oh Lord not another Gallery match" department, we've got Très Sheik taking on the Lone Wolf Blintzer Jeffrey Steingold.
Oh, I wish that Steingold loses. He thinks he's bigger than the OBN.
I wish he loses too. Très Sheik is much classier.
The Sheik is coming down from the rafters! He has a long glittery gold robe that's held on wires behind him! What arrogance is this?
I think it's great! He's a champ, why shouldn't he have a great entrance?
I must agree, it's a good entrance.
Okay, fine. I'm not going to argue with you, it's late and I'm tired.
His opponent, weighing in at a staggering 113 lbs... from Manhattan, NY, he is the Lone Wolf Blintzer...JEFFREY STEINGOLD!
("The Dreidel Song" plays. Jeffrey Steingold runs as fast as his chicken legs can carry him and starts pummelling the Sheik just as the...)

***bell rings.
The Sheik's not even ready! His gold robe is still on wires. Steingold is wrapping them around the Exorbitant Arab so we have something like a gold mummy here. Steingold hammering away at Très Sheik.
Did I say it was a good entrance? I meant in theory.
Quiet, old man.
Our ICCTINACBBIC champ is finally out of his shroud. He's beet red despite his olive skin! And look at him go! Rights! Lefts! Creamy middles!

I think that last comment deserves a TV-14, don't you?

That wasn't a sexual comment! Stupid TV ratings. You don't like it, get a V-chip! Hey, if this is TV-14, can we swear now?
No. The Seven-Second Tape Delay Guys are still on payroll.
G<-BLEEP->mn it! The Sheik and Steingold exchanging hits now. Sheik with a half-nelson. Steingold hits the rope.
Come on, Sheik, wear him down a bit more! The ref will warn you more than once.
That's despicable.
I'm an elite heel, you expected less from me?
Sheik takes Steingold to the top rope....SUPERPLEX! Here's a cover.
(Oasis singing "Yellow Submarine" is piped in.)
Okay, here's a different sort of cover: 1...2...kickout by the Lone Wolf Blintzer. The Exorbitant Arab with a figure-twelve leglock, a move only ThatGuy has perfected.
We've been looking over old tapes. We're picking up what we can.
Steingold turns it over: The Sheik is scrabbling desperately to the rope. And yes! He's made it. He was looking to be in trouble there. Gallery-ites never admit they're in trouble. And the rest of us have spidey-sense to interfere when it's best needed.
Spidey-sense, Colonel? I wonder about the sanity of you sometimes.
In a world of circus freaks, pixies, cult members, anthropomorphic cows AND wonder about the sanity of THESE guys?
Point well taken. Now...Jeffrey Steingold on the offensive. There's a jawbreaker. Sheik punches but falters. Steingold connects! Sheik lands a kick but Steingold comes back with two more!
Come on Spidey-sense....COME ON!
Leave the mystical powers to Lenny Baxter please. Steingold is making the spinny-dreidel sign....TORAH-NADO DDT! This one is DONE! 1...2...NO! STEINGOLD JUST PICKED HIM BACK UP!
Another Torah-nado DDT! Such arrogance.
Aaah! Why is this gum on my seat? I can't get up to interfere without embarrassing myself.
I put it there just in case. The cover: 1...2...3! New ICCTINACBBIC champion!
He's dancing up a storm in that ring to celebrate. But here comes Irving Goldstein to put a damper on his parade.
Jeffrey Steingold just took a Pearl Harbor, for sure. So let's go to the main event! But episode of the Bake Shop with Billy the Baker.
Oh, come ON!

(The lights rise on the darkened corner of the arena. The now familiar set of the Bake Shop is set up as Billy the Baker's ring music plays. The sound of the faithful 39 can be faintly heard from the nosebleed section of the arena as Billy makes his way to the set.)
Billy: Thank you, thank you! This is a very special episode tonight on the Bake Shop. Not only are we out of the house show and into the broadcast, finally. But tonight, as I told you he would. My rival, the loser of the Hell in the Kitchen triple threat match, Petey the Peanut Guy is here accompanied as always by Mr. Planters. Now let's get baking! You know since my big win, I have wondered what to do next. But then I heard that the Mad Cow just didn't get enough of the Baker. Mad Cow you are just the next stone in the path to STWF gold for Billy the Baker. Before we bring out my guests, I just want to give a shout out to Lenny "The Force" Baxter and my boys and girls in the bleachers the faithful 39!
(Once again the sound of the faithful 39 can be faintly heard.)
At this time, the man nobody thought I could get on this program. Accompanied by his butler, Mr. Planters. PETEY THE PEANUT GUY!

(The "Peanuts" theme plays as Petey the Peanut Guy makes his way toward the set followed as always by Mr. Planters sans the peanut suit.)
Billy: Petey, before we clear the air I just want to thank you and Mr. Planters for coming on here tonight. As a show of my good faith, that there will be no funny business here tonight. I would like to present this new peanut suit to Mr. Planters to replace the one that those wretched managers of mine ruined. So Mr. Planters, here you go.
(Billy presents Mr. Planters with a brand new peanut suit, identical to the he wore before the incident. So there's no discontinuity. That's a good thing.)
Mr. Planters: Thank you Mr.Billy, sir. It is a very kind gesture on your part.
(Mr. Planters accepts the suit giving it a careful but subtle inspection.) Billy: I know you have things on your mind Petey, and you as well Mr. Planters. This is an open forum for you both to spill your guts, oops, sorry Mr. Planters I couldn't resist that one. Go ahead and say what you will.
Petey: Well Billy, it has been a tough haul ever since Mr. Planters and I joined the Stereo Type Wrestling Federation. We were in a couple of federations previous to this one, but this is by far the most difficult of them all. The quality of the wrestlers is equal to any that we have ever faced. And I include you, Billy. I've only had three matches so far, but the two with you have been grueling, to say the least. The only thing that comes close in my recollection was a match I had in the Kitchener / Waterloo Wrestling Federation against my old arch-enemy, Tony the Tofu Guy. It was especially difficult because we were both trying to win the match and promote our respective meat substitutes. Do you remember that match Mr. Planters?
Mr. Planters: Of course, sir. As I recall, sir, Tony forced you to eat some of his tofu. You won the match, sir, but you were ill for almost a whole week afterwards. It was a most distressing time sir. I had no idea if you were even going to survive, sir.
Petey: Yes it was a close call. I survived, but I never wrestled in the KWWF again. I tried to start my own fed, but no-one else joined. It wasn't easy being the only wrestler in the Petey the Peanut Guy Wrestling Federation, but at least I didn't get any tofu stuffed down my throat. But after the PPGWF folded, Mr. Planters and I came here to try our luck. And things seem to be paying off. I've already had some notable matches. But I still have my goals set a little higher and I want a belt.
Billy: I am going to be honest. I didn't think much of you at first. But you are one tough SOP (Son of a peanut) and we could wrestle100 times and split all 100 matches 50 / 50. I came here as you did to win STWF gold just as you did. Therefor I am offering a truce with the stipulation that not if, but when the other wins gold. The other can request, if he chooses, a title match.
Petey: I'm all for that. I know that one of us will climb to the top rung of the ladder eventually. It's just a matter of time with our skills. However, I have an offer for you Billy that may get both of us to the top rung even faster. This is something that Mr. Planters suggested to me right out of the blue, didn't you Mr. Planters?
Mr. Planters: [beaming happily] Yes, sir.
Petey: Mr. Planters noticed that you and I have quite a chemistry in the ring, Billy. And he thought that it was a chemistry that was being totally wasted by the fact that we were constantly beating each other up. Now, I know that we've had our differences since we both joined the STWF...but there are better ways of getting to the top. You've proposed a truce. Now I want to take it one step further...
[Petey looks to Mr. Planters who nods his assent. Petey draws himself up to his full height and looks right into Billy's eyes.]
Petey: Billy you and I should become a tag team.
(Billy's eyes widen and an evil grin begins to curl.)
Petey: I mean, look at us. We are obviously two of the deadliest new-comers to this federation and we've made quite an impact already. Just think of the impact we can make as partners. We can call ourselves something like Peanut Batter or the Baked Nuts..or the Newbie Age Outlaws - I can be the Roasted Nut Petey Peanut and you can be The Baked Ass Billy Baker. And together we could be the Doppelcrown Champions of the Wooorrld!!
Mr. Planters: A capital idea, don't you think, sir?
Petey: Well Billy, what do you say? If those Sisters of the Joint Rosary can get ranked as a tag team, certainly we can too. And it wouldn't be long before we topped that list. Of course, it wouldn't stop us from continuing our to do our separate thing. But just think of what it will do for both of our futures. What do you say, Billy?
Billy: I just have two words for you Petey...
Petey: Uh, suck it!
BtB: Why would you think to say such a thing? No, I'M IN! I never thought I would do this, but I just want to shake both your hands. And now that we are partners, can I get your peanut butter food stuff recipes? They were the best part of the match besides winning.
Petey: You know, I did notice that you scarfed down quite a few of our goods during that match. I'm glad that you, a qualified baker of the highest order, would find our creations tasty enough to eat and enjoy. What do you say, Mr. Planters? Should we give Billy our recipes?
Mr. Planters: Of course , sir. I do not mean to brag, Master Billy, but many of the recipes we used were old family secrets handed down through generations of valets, butlers, servants, maids, and handmaidens, sir. You would be carrying on a tradition long upheld by some of the finest private servants of the last three centuries, Master Billy, sir. Master Billy it would be an honour.
Billy: Well , this was going to be where I asked what is next for you. But I guess the appropriate question would be where do the Newbie Age Outlaws start, Roasted Nut?
Petey: Let me tell you Baked Ass, it doesn't matter who, it doesn't matter where. We will take on any tag team that wants to get a piece. Mr. Planters: Smashing idea, sir. An open challenge should get a rise out of the those ruffian teams in the STWF, sir.
Billy: With the guidance of Mr. Planters and the support of the faithful 39 in the crowd. There is nobody who can stand in the way of the Newbie Age Outlaws from getting a piece of STWF championship gold. Now faithful 39, if your down with the Newbie Age Outlaws, let me hear you say bakin' ain't easy!
The faithful 39 and a sizable group in the crowd, scream BAKIN' AIN'T EASY!

(Loud static crackling...back to the show.)

And just when it was getting good.
Yeah, well, we're strapped for time We can't have one stinking interview take up everything. Just three minutes left, and that means it's time for the Main Event Screwjob! Hooray! Both men are in the ring. The ref is getting the Creepy Timekeeper's attention. He looks up from his giant swirlie lollipop and...
***bell rings.
That timekeeper... disgusting.
Well, tough. It's Bohemoth in the ring against IG champion Homicidal Hank! This is one for the record books. Bohemoth levels Hank with a double forearm shot. Standing splash. Lazy cover: 1...2...kickout by Hank. Hank takes his potted geranium and smashes it in Bohemoth's face! Dirt and terracotta fly everywhere!
What a match!
Hank tries a Boston Crab but can't get those huge hams of the coal miner up. Bohemoth is up, slowly. Hank dropkicks him right back down. Cover: Bohemoth and Hank whip off opposite ropes and collide mid-ring.
And here comes Sergeant Genocide, making it known that HE WANTS A BELT!
He's got a chair and waiting for SOMEONE to get up. The ref tells him to wait a bit because he'll get his turn. Bohemoth is the first man up. Genocide leaps off the top turnbuckle with a chair! What an amazing chairshot!
Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, as a result of a disqualification, BOHEMOTH! (We're sorry, title doesn't change hands. No purchase necessary. Must be legal drinking age to enter. Void where prohibited.)
Well, that's a nice cap to a nice evening. We'll see you on Thursday Something or Other, and after that, it's In Your Face: IceJam! Until then, this is Angus "Vince" McMadden saying, keep your pants off!
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre