Monday Nae Trous - High in Fibre, Low in Fat
(Pan Interior of the Slobberknocker Arena. Joy of joys,
there is now a fat black guy in front of a turntable, laughingly calling
himself a DJ. He's got a bunch of propaganda signs around him, and is
constantly telling the fans to "make some noise".)
Welcome to another exciting installment of Monday Nae Trous! I'm Angus
"Vince" McMadden, along of course with Captain Twilight and Jamal Tupac
Mustafa. And now, I'd like to introduce DJ Fled, yet another member of our
STWF family, and hopefully he won't drag our ratings down too much.
DJ Fled: MAKE A LITTLE NOISE!
(a little noise is made. So little, in fact, it's barely audible)
Okay, thanks Fled!
You know, piggybacking ideas is not always a GOOD
thing.
But Cap'n T, iss the basis of any rasslin'
fed!
Can't the STWF be innovators for once?
We're plenty innovative. But this is off topic - we've got wrestling to
cover! And first, a double debut match - "Violent" Beauregard against
Four. Now I've met Beauregard, and he's quite...uh, charming. As for Four,
what do you know about him, Cap?
I know his name has four letters. And he's not
much else.
Fantastic. Has he said ANYTHING yet?
No, he's not supposed to. But since everyone in
the STWF must, he did make some pre-recorded comments, right
here:
Four: My name is Four. And don't you Four-get it. Okay, that's it, I'm
done.
Wow.
This contest is set for one fall, thankfully.
Introducing first, from Akron, Ohio, and weighing in at 245 lbs. (that's
244 and 4/4), he is Four!
("History Repeating" by the Propellerheads plays. Four enters. He has no
top on, and a pair of black pants with a nondescript pattern. Nothing you
haven't seen from Edge, Test, Meat or Droz.)
His opponent, from Cambridge, England and weighing in at 345 lbs., he is
"Violent" Beauregard!
("Oompa Loompa Doopity Doo" by Willy Wonka (oh, just see the damn movie)
plays. Beauregard, an obese man with a tight-fitting schoolboy's uniform
and a tiny cowboy hat enters to boos. He has some trouble removing the hat
from his head, but eventually does with a small ripping sound.)
***bell rings.
Y'know, Cap, y'all could'a told us what was up
widdis Beauregard fella.
And ruin the surprise?
Four starts off with a jumping kick to the midsection. A few forearms to
the head, and this match is off to a horrendously boring start.
Quite a snoozer indeed.
Beauregard with a headbutt, and he's pleased with the results. I really
think that the chewing of gum by "Violent" Beauregard is quite obnoxious,
don't you?
Yeh. Come on, turn blue, man, turn blue! Well,
you already round, but jus' turn blue.
Beauregard trying to get a full nelson on, but his uniform just doesn't
give him the full range of arm movement.
It's a terrible choice of costume, Vince. You
need something that gives you the movement you need. And when you're as
dumpy as "Violent" Beauregard, well, you're pretty much better off in a
bedsheet or something.
Beauregard with some punches to Four's head. Four puts on an abdominal
stretch. And that armpit of the schoolboy's uniform is busting at the
seams. Four lets go, and there's a short clothesline! Beauregard goes down
like a ton of bricks.
Thass pretty fittin'.
Four makes the cover: 1...2...3! And it looks like Four is your
winner.
"Violent" Beauregard: That's not fair! I wasn't ready! I demand a
reversed decision. And I want it right now!
The ref is ignoring the plea.
Beauregard: I shall hold my breath!
Yeh! He turnin' blue! A'ight!
Four: Oh for Pete's sake, just give him the match, I don't care.
Baby.
Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has reversed the
decision, and the winner of this contest is "VIOLENT"
BEAUREGARD!
Well, the large British ... schoolboy? Well, whatever he is, his childish
tactics have given him a debut win.
Spare the rod and spoil the child, that's what I
say.
Typical old guy, Captain. Typical old guy. And right now, we're going to
see some great six-man tag action. It's the Pencil-Necked Geek and the
Techie Salesmen from Hell against Très Sheik and the Chosen Ones.
This contest is scheduled for one fall. Entering now,
representing the Mid-East Alliance, with a combined weight somewhere just
under 500 lbs., here are Irving Goldstein, Jeffrey Steingold and
Très Sheik!
("Hava Nagila" plays, much to the confusion of Très Sheik, who
just shrugs and wonders silently why his image is being used as an example
in the "Create a Wrestler" previews for the Attitude game. He really
is!)
And their opponents, representing the Tri-Lambda Group and accompanied by
Edwina, with a combined weight somewhere just over 500 lbs., here are
Bait, Switch, and the Pencil-Necked Geek!
(The Beer Barrel Polka plays. The Geek is wearing a black shirt with a
tiny "no." inside a thin white square, and of course his suspenders on top
of it.)
Why is the Pencil-Necked Geek wearing an old
T-shirt from the Square? He must be one real nostalgia buff.
Remember that the Square and the Techie Salesmen were contemporaries. That
could have something to do with it.
***bell rings.
It's Jeffrey Steingold and Switch to front this confrontation. Switch
extends the "hand of friendship".
Crowd: NO! DON'T DO IT!
Edwina: SHUT UP!
One would think after all these years they could
come up with a better back-and-forth for the hand of friendship
bit.
Jeffrey goes for the hand. Switch grabs the hand in both of his and
thrusts it right into a low blow! He giggles and pushes his spectacles up
his nose.
Whatchoo expect? He from Hell.
Good point - I guess you just can't trust a minor demon. Switch now
slingshots Steingold into the Tri-Lambda corner. Irving Goldstein comes in
to help, but the ref drives him back. Now the ref is asking for car-buying
advice from Irving.
Hey, Goldstein knows a lot about cars. He knows
the tricks of the trade.
Hooked me up with my "b<-BLEEP->ch
magnet".
And how many of those have you attracted so far, Jamal?
A gennelman neva tells.
Meaning none, because he's no
gentleman.
People, please! Jeffrey Steingold being teamed on. The ref turns around
and breaks it up. The Pencil-Necked Geek is tagged in. He puts on a German
suplex. Bounces off the ropes...tripped by Sheik! There's a heated
exchange of words now...it's escalated into a shoving match! And Irving
Goldstein makes the tag. Some double teaming efforts by the Chosen Ones.
There's a double leg snap!
Make a wish! Hey, and there's another one that
needs some updating.
Don't I know it. Our lines are about as stale as the "Violent Vinnie
Mansbridge" running gag.
Violent Vinnie Mansbridge: If only I had roleplayed once, instead of
asking to be put in the audience until further notice.
Yeah? Well that's your problem, bucko! Okay, Irving has the Geek in a
pinning position: 1...2...so close. Goldstein with a tag to Sheik, and
this crowd is finally into it. Another double leg-snap by Sheik and
Goldstein.
Make a wish!
The Geek is begging off right now. Why is the Sheik buying it? He used to
be a member of the Gallery, he should know this ruse by now. Sheik with a
baseball slide. The Geek adjusts his spectacles. He's up, and a few kicks
by the PNG. Irish whip against the ropes...Edwina's got a laptop! And by
the sound of that smack, it's gotta be a Pentium III!
Yeh, kinda hollow.
Not even the sequined turban or the glitter Nehru jacket could help absorb
the blow from that. The Exorbitant Arab goes down. The Pencil-Necked Geek
turns him over...and whoa! He gets a faceful of "Eau de Camelle", that
odoriferous perfume!
The Geek is blinded! All those water droplets on
his glasses...
The ref's calling this one out.
Ladies and gentlemen, the official decision is a
DOUBLE DISQUALIFICATION! What, you thought he didn't see the hit with the
laptop? You think he's blind or something?
The staff here at the Stereo Type Wrestling Federation never cease to
amaze me, Captain.
What about me? You neva make dose obsavations ta
me!
Okay...the STWF staff never cease to amaze me, Jamal.
Shut up, you t'ink I care about yo'
obsavations?
If I wasn't sitting next to you, I'd...
This next contest is for the STWF/MBC/RDWA "3-4-1"
belts, and is set for one fall. First, the CHAMPIONS, from Parts Unknown
and Probably Forgotten, accompanied by Dr. Zigmund Fraud, here are
Flatline and Coma...THE HEAD TRAUMA BOYS!
ONETWOTHREEFOUR
(A Ramones medley plays. The HTBs half-run,
half-shamble to the ring. They start doing some suicidal maneuvers at
nothing in particular.)
And their opponents...from Pizzicatto, Florida...(Announcer Lad is handed
a card) Ladies and gentlemen, there's been a change of plans. The Reno
Brothers are no longer in the STWF and consequently a replacement team
will be needed. But where will we find such a team?
Pencil-Necked Geek: I believe I have such a
team.
But the Techie Salesmen already wrestled this
card!
Oh, it's not my Techies. I have a team that will
destroy those concussion-ridden youngsters. Edwina? Bring it
out.
Here comes Edwina, what's she bringing out? Oh no...it can't be...it
is!
It's a ramp! And that can only mean one
thing.
Boy, you announcers are quick. Yes...I've brought
back and re-united one of the most fearsome teams ever assembled. It's my
pleasure to give you El Spheros and the Square...THE IMMORTAL SHAPES! Ooh,
I'm so brilliant it's scary.
The Square skulking out of the locker room and reaches his position at
ringside without a word. The Geek is pointing; and here's El Spheros, the
spherical luchador, rolling down the aisle at breakneck speed. He's up
the ramp, and into the ring!
We'd like to remind those of you who haven't seen
El Spheros in action before, that due to his unusual body shape he can't
enter the ring by conventional means, thus the ramp.
Da Head Trauma Boys defendin' agin' da Immortal
Shapes first cain't be good.
You're telling me. El Spheros held the Heavyweight Belt for ages, and the
Square's held it twice. And now they're a tag team once again (after
splitting up so long ago).
***bell rings.
The Square will begin things. And it's Coma also in the ring. Coma with a
standing dropkick. The Square no-sells it like a pro. The Square puts Coma
in a bearhug, and it's a reverse atomic drop now. Square with a Lou Thesz
press. And now those ultra-slow kicks that the Square was known for.
Not a very flamboyant individual, is
he?
Dat's da point! He a square!
Jamal's right; you should have figured that out. Square with a
belly-to-back suplex, nice move by the Square. Coma tags in Flatline, the
more competent individual of the twosome. Flatline with a high crossbody,
catching the Square off guard: 1...2..."no", the Square says as he kicks
out. Some of the older fans pop at the Square's catchphrase being uttered.
The Square ready to tag El Spheros, but is pulled back. Spinning heel kick
by Flatline. The Square goes down again. 1...2..."no". The Square whips
Flatline away so he can make the tag to El Spheros.
El Spheros: ¡VIVA!
Flatline is begging off. El Spheros with cartwheeling punches and kicks.
Heck, I can't tell which is which, the man's a whirling dervish out
there.
Absolutely. At 5'5" in any direction, he takes up quite a bit of space.
Flatline on the receiving end of a bow-and-arrow submission - well, sort
of, he's just placed along the curvature of El Spheros' body - Flatline
rolls back and reaches the ropes. Flatline takes a big headbutt.
That was a headbutt? Looked like a
kick.
O' a belly-bounce.
Whatever! El Spheros is up top...here comes his most devastating
maneuver!
The Super Super Spheros Spinning Splash! If you
thought a 450 splash was impressive, try to count the number of full
rotations he gets!
Oh man, Flatline is a pancake. 1...2...3! The Head Trauma Boys weren't
expecting a match against athletes of this caliber at all.
Here are your winners, and NEEEEEW "3-4-1" tag team
champions, THE IMMORTAL SHAPES!
Wow. What a match! What can top that? Nothing!
Well, we need a fourth match. But first, we have
a problem here in the STWF. A vacant ICCTINACBBIC title and no way to
figure out how to get a holder for it. Well, we've just received word that
there WILL be a decision made! Here's Announcer Lad to tell you the
official word.
(pre-recorded Announcer Lad. He looks sober here.)
Because there is a vacant spot for the Intercontinental Cruiserweight
"This Is Not A Championship Belt But It's Close" belt, and we're too damn
lazy to hold a tournament, we will be collecting all five contenders:
Jeffrey Steingold, Lenny Baxter, Très Sheik, Percy the Peg-Leg
Pirate and Flash "the Mastermind" Flanagan, and holding an ESSAY CONTEST.
In 50-150 words (and yes, we will count), all five wrestlers will tell us
why they think they deserve the ICCTINACBBIC belt. Failure of all five to
provide an essay within a week will result in the championship of
StreetMime. Who said winning a belt had to be athletic? That's the
official word. Thank you.
ESSAY CONTEST?!
Hey, why not. And now, the main event two-minute screwjob: Sergeant
Genocide will defend his belt against B.F. Sack!
Entering first, from Panama City, Florida,
representing the Hubcap Gang and accompanied by Flash "the Mastermind"
Flanagan, here is B.F. SACK!
(The theme to Sanford and Son plays. Sack enters and does some flexing to
the crowd's delight.)
His opponent, from Kiev, Ukraine, representing the Rogue's Gallery and
accompanied by Col. "Pops" Khorne, here is the Intergalactic Champion,
SERGEANT GENOCIDE!
("Intergalactic" plays, sounding more like a march. Both men come down the
aisle and salute. Boos galore.)
***bell rings.
Sack leaps at Genocide and he's hammering away with his fists! I've never
seen B.F. Sack so intense!
He wants that belt, and he wants it
bad!
Sack with some kneedrops now. Genocide is faltering! I think we could have
a new champion here tonight! Colonel Khorne is hunting under the ring for
a suitable weapon. He pulls out a pantsless Ensign Ben Dover!
There's GOTTA be an explanation fo'
dat.
Khorne jumps the ring, and he nails Sack with the Ensign.
How many military men do we need in this
ring?
Flash Flanagan entering the fray. The ref has had enough of this.
This match, predictably, has ended in a DOUBLE
DISQUALIFICATION! And Ben, I know the prankster who stole your pants and
hid them under the ring. I'll tell you who it was for $20.
See? Perfectly logical.
Yeah, logical. For Jamal Tupac Mustafa and Captain Twilight, I'm Angus
"Vince" McMadden saying, keep your pants off!
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo
Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre