Monday Nae Trous
Monday Nae Trous - No apologies

(Or, "Truth is Stranger than Fiction?")
(The Slobberknocker Arena in full effect. A capacity crowd for some strange reason, with signs everywhere, mostly variations on the "3:16", "X fears Y", and "Me (with arrow pointing down)" themes. Huge pyrotechnics accompanied by whistling sounds pretty much tell us that something strange is afoot. We pan to Angus "Vince" McMadden wearing a black cowboy hat and Jamal Tupac Mustafa in some costume-jewellery-laden getup complete with crown. Captain Twilight looks normal as if to provide foil.)
WELCOME everyone to another edition of Monday Nae Trous. We're here in the Slobberknocker Arena, and I'll be damned if that's not an appropriate name, because this card tonight is going to be FULL of slobberknockers!
That's right, VM, and who knows WHAT could happen HERE to-NIGHT!
Something is seriously wrong here. Are you two alright? You're acting very strangely, and yet, eerily familiar.
I'm as fit as a fiddle, there, Cap. So let's kick things off and get things rolling with...
(The Right Hand Man enters)
Good LORD!
RHM: As an Executive of this federation, I've decided that I need to make a few changes. I'M going to book the matches tonight...
What do you care, Kin...I mean, Jamal, you're part of his stable.
Oh yeah...skipped a line. I meant to say, "Heh hehyeah, I LOVE it!
RHM: That's right. And those booking decisions fall to me, unless they fall to either the Head Executive aka Der Kommissaar, the President, the owner, his son, the Commissioner, or the CEO of this company. And let's not forget our hack team of writers chained up in the ninth floor of the Ivory Tower - hey guys, IceJam sucked! - or let's face it, the Rogue gets some say too, much to my chagrin. And that's fine, I just suppose it's my week to become the guy who for some reason holds booking power. And what better week it is, than the 60th episode of Monday Nae Trous, HERE to-NIGHT, on this channel LIVE. We're taped next week.
Can someone PLEASE tell me what's going on here? Just when I thought I finally understood what this fed was doing, they go and get weird on me.
Okay, we'll let you in. Here's a script; you can be Captain Kelly.
(riffling through pages) mumble mumble "Are you kiddin' ME?" mumble mumble "Are you kiddin' ME?" hmmm... a little repetitive. But workable.
You want should see my script. During the last half of the show, every other sentence is a reference to baby dogs.
RHM: Are you three quite done? Now, tonight, we'll see none other that "Violent" Beauregard mixing it up with Big Baby Hubert, and we'll see who the crybaby is, because the loser is LEAVING this federation! I was sick of both of them anyway. Nobody likes a whiner, least of all an Executive.
RHM: Also, because I despise the Drug Knot so much, douja, you're going to team up with slater and take on none other than... "Soft Core" Zack and Irving Goldstein!
Good LORD!
RHM: And as for you, Pain and Pleasure...ha ha ha, oh, I have something really special cooked up for you. You're getting a title shot against the Immortal Shapes! IF. Yes, IF you can get past the little test that the Tri-Lambda Group has prepared for you. I'm inclined to agree, not just ANYONE can waltz in and challenge two powerhouses like El Spheros and the Square.
Are you kiddin' ME?
RHM: For Pete's sake, change the record people! It's starting to skip. Also, we'll finally reveal who won the essay contest HERE to-NIGHT, only on this channel, LIVE, and not only will he receive the belt, but he'll DEFEND it, HERE to-NIGHT!
RHM: And finally, since I have to promote my Hubcap Gang, the Intergalactic Belt is going to go on the line HERE to-NIGHT, on this channel, as Sergeant Genocide goes up against a Hubcap Gang member of my choice, and you'll only find out who it is at the very end. So stay tuned through all the crap, because there really is nothing worth watching on the wussy wrestling on the other channel anyway.
At the risk of sounding like a flunkie, he's absolutely right, that other fed sucks.
This contest is a RETIREMENT match, and is set for one fall. Making his way DOWN the AISLE, accompanied by his mom, Lady June Beauregard, here is "Violent" Beauregard!
(A hokier version of "Oompa Loompa Doopity Doo" plays, as if it were the theme to a fifties sitcom. The screen turns black-and-white with scratch marks running through it. Beauregard has a dopey grin on his face, and makes kissy-faces at his mother, who looks like she must have conceived Beauregard while still in her own mother's womb.)
His opponent, representing what's left of Grampa's Old Boys, if indeed they still exist, and accompanied by a rubber ducky, here is BIG BABY HUBERT!
Wheezy voiceover: What does everybody want? TO GET DUCKED!
(A pounding rock theme plays. Hubert waddles down the aisle and starts pumping the lead-filled duck in the air in time with the music. Emblazoned backwards on both his head and the duck's head is the phrase "DUCK YOU".)

Both competitors are ready for this one, and it should be a barn-burner, because both these guys are double-tough, and...
***bell rings, thankfully.
Both competitors skipping in circles around each other. One of them taps his shoulder, and there's a collar-and-elbow tie-up as if signalled.
Look at the puppies on Lady June! *whistles* Here, puppies!
Easy, big fella.
I thought you said you wouldn't start that until the last half of the show.
I wasn't gonna, but just look at 'em, Captain! They're PUPPIES! Now, if she was just ten years younger, I'd...
Alright, Mustafa, we can hear all about that later. Now, instead of calling the match I'd like to tell you all about the upcoming Canada Day Chaos. 36 men, in twelve teams of randomly-picked threesomes...
Was that a response to VM, or to a maneuver in the ring?
No, I think I just caught a little more of Lady June's cleavage! Look at those puppies! a series of single-elimination matches whereby an entire team must be defeated for the opposing team, in its entirety, to advance whether they were eliminated or not. At the end there's three teams in one of the same matches. The final team's members must then fight EACH OTHER in a triangle match, and the winner faces the Intergalactic Champion at a later date, whomever it might be.
Whomever who might be? The winner or the current champion?
WHOA! Did you see that? Heh hehyeah, baby, I LOVE it!
Big Baby Hubert just LEVELLED that big man, "Violent" Beauregard with that DUCK of his!
(Pan to a crowdshot of six guys holding up a sign letter each, spelling "DUCK IT". They're all acting as if they're really clever and original for thinking that up, despite the fact there's seven other signs with exactly the same phrase on it.)
Look at those moron fans!
Big Baby Hubert makes the cover, and there's the count: 1...2...3! We have a winner, and we did it without calling a single move!
Sure makes our job a lot easier.
The winner of this contest, BIG BABY HUBERT! Which means that "Violent" Beauregard is hereby retiring.
Beauregard: But I don't WANT to retire! I shall hold my breath! Mommy, comfort me in your breasts?
Lady June: Of course, sweetheart. We'll think of something. But first, for losing, and that you're no longer in the STWF, I think SOMEONE needs a "time out" *wink*
I'd sure like a "time out" with her! Heh hehyeah.
(The Monstron shows Luke Warm walking down a corridor. The crowd pops huge.)
That's LUKE WARM! Good LORD, Luke WARM is in the building!
Maybe he's the member of the Hubcap Gang scheduled to face Sergeant Genocide HERE to-NIGHT!

This portion of Monday Nae Trous is brought to you by the Army. You won't get to watch wrestling in the Army, but join anyway. Be all that you can be - someone who gets to die in a senseless war that takes the public eye away from the President's roving zipper.

Now in our NEXT confrontation, two members of the self-proCLAIMED "Drug Knot" will be taking on two people that hate them. It's douja and slater, so high they can't even put capitals on their names, against Irving Goldstein and "Soft Core" Zack.

This special edition of Monday Nae Trous is rated TV-14-DLV. Yeah, that's right, "L". There will be some language coming up, mainly because the writers for this portion weren't around to see the wrestling of the 80s.

The following is a tag team contest, and is SET for one fall. Making their way DOWN the AISLE, with a total combined weight of (unintelligible), from Parts Forgotten, representing the Drug Knot, here are douja and slater!
(The strains of Cypress Hill waft out of the PA system like so much smoke. douja and slater are entering. A crowd-shot of seven guys with letter-signs reading "SMOKE IT" are seen. They also are congratulating themselves for their originality and cleverness, despite about twelve other signs in the audience that are identical in words. douja and slater have new bangs, one of which is highlighted deep red. Some nameless guy with a cane comes down with them.)
Their opponents, accompanied by Deviance, from Ames, Iowa and Manhattan, New York (or is it Brooklyn?) here are "SOFT CORE" ZACK AND IRVING GOLDSTEIN!
Voiceover: Do you smell what the Jock is cooking?
(The two men enter. The Dumpster of Doom is absent - because that's not this fed, silly. Zack looks to the camera and lifts his eyebrow.)

That Irving Goldstein is old enough to work for that other company, wouldn't you say?
I don't know, Captain Kelly, he might be too talented.
***bell rings to avoid any other lawsuit-inducing evidence.
Four solid competitors here. Now where did I put all those college football histories that I can bore everyone with?
Is Iowa close enough to Oklahoma for you, VM?
NOTHING comes close to good ol' Oklahoma. Wait a minute, what am I saying, I'm from Glasgow!
Glasgow? Is that a suburb of Tulsa, VM?
slater and Goldstein locking up. There's an armdrag takedown, and...
Wait a doggone minute, Captain Kelly! Are you actually CALLING this match?
That is what we're supposed to do, isn't it?
Well TECHNICALLY, but there's so much more to it. You'll learn more with experience. You only call the important moves, by name if you can, and with "excellent maneuver" if you don't. And there's a HURricanRAna!
Look at the puppies on Deviance! Come here, baby. Sit on my knee.
Easy, big fella.
Excellent maneuver by slater! Are you kiddin' ME?
Yeah, that's the spirit! But I really can't focus on this match, because we're going to see who won the ICCTINACBBIC title, AND see both THAT title and the Intergalactic Title defended, HERE to-NIGHT!
You knew this before, Jamal.
Well yeah, but I had to show surprise for anyone just tuning in, you see.
And the tag is made. HE gets set up for the ride.
That's good, keep it vague. Some people out there might be reading books at the same time and we need them to look up at the screen.
Hey Deve, baby, care to let me show you some rugburns after the show?
Good LORD! My momma's watchin', Jamal.
What's a 73-year-old woman doing watching such suggestive, violent programming? All done in good taste of course.
I took the batteries out of her remote and she's too weak to get up and change the channel. I wouldn't mind if she DIDN'T watch it but she IS part of the Neilsen family, you understand.
And there's the finisher! 1...2...3! Are you kiddin' ME? Let's see that one again.
I'm sorry, we have no time.
(Shot of the Monstron. Luke Warm is sitting in the locker room, eating a ham sandwich. Even bigger pop than before.)
LUKE WARM, ladies and gentlemen! Luke WARM... is in the building! And he's eating a ham sandwich! Do you THINK, that maybe he'll make an appearance HERE to-NIGHT.
I sure hope so, VM. He IS a member of the Hubcap Gang, and a good choice to take on Sergeant Genocide for the Intergalactic Title HERE to-NIGHT!
True, but who ELSE could it be? Maybe it's B.F. Sack. Maybe it's Flash "the Mastermind" Flanagan. Maybe it's someone completely NEW, or someone who just joined the Hubcap Gang!
That's true, but we'll just have to see who it is later on to-NIGHT, here on this channel, LIVE. Stay with us!

This portion of Monday Nae Trous is brought to you by Chef Boys-are-we Overcrammed Pasta. Every mouthful is big and beefy. Get CRAMMED! With this pasta. Overcrammed, only by Chef Boys-are-we.

We're back, here LIVE, and we'll see just what kind of a gauntlet has been prepared for Pain and Pleasure.
Heh hehyeah, this is going to be GREAT!
I was wondering when you were going to get around to that one.
Here come Pain and Pleasure now.
(A drippy saxophone solo. Jean Bannister enters first with some boots that are painted to look like hockey skates, and a Leafs jersey. On the back is written "GOON" with the number "00". He's also holding a hockey stick. Sir Hungalot enters next, topless and wearing a towel around his waist.)
Sir Hungalot: Helllllo ladies! Heh heh heh. You know, the Big Sir KNOWS, that the Tri-Lambda Group has got some real challenges up ahead for us. We're taking on more than one tag team. But as any of you ladies could soon find out, even after I'm finished with one, I can get RIGHT back UP (emphasizes with his index finger), and be ready for another ROUND. Heh heh heh. (Screams from the ladies, and the leather-clad men in the third row.)
The Pencil-Necked Geek is showing up and he's got a mic! I wonder if he's got anything important to say.
Who CARES?! Look at the puppies on Edwina!
You're really starting to worry us, Kin...I mean, Jamal.
And besides, she has no discernible breasts to speak of.
PNG: Care to take that back, Captain, or shall I let the Immortal Shapes loose on you HERE to-NIGHT? (small pop from the fat guys who paid to see blood)
For what it's worth, I apologize, but with all due respect...
PNG: Thanks. I'm glad you saw it my way. Now you two Canadian-sympathizer morons are going to get a REAL taste of what wrestling's ALL about, because I've lined up some of the best, and some of the brightest. Of course, none are brighter than the Techie Salesmen from Hell, but that's besides the point.
I wish he'd just get ON with it.
PNG: Hey, "good ol' VM", can it, because according to my watch I get fifteen minutes of interview time to use up. And I intend to use them all, even if it means I have to repeat myself six times.
Nah, I couldn't do that, my breath and wisdom are far too valuable to waste on THESE (sweeping the audience with his hand) scum! (boos, a smattering of cheers from the geeks in the audience. One near the front row is mouthing, "yeah, you tell 'em!") So without further ado, allow me to present your first challenge of the evening, the AGENCY!
(Feedback is heard, followed by a hard rock rhythm. The screen flashes between Mully and Sculder entering, and the Monstron, which is showing the Fourier spectrum of the music and shots of half-naked girls' butts in various modes of undulation. Sculder is wearing a stupid-looking hat, and Mully is trying to assert her femininity (?) with a silver tube top and black bicycle shorts.)
A ... "new look" being sported by one Agency.
You mean two, don't you? Because there are two of them.
But only one Agency, right?
***bell rings because that joke was being drawn out too much.
Both teams going in with FULL FORCE! Sir Hungalot and Jean Bannister each grab a member...
...of the Agency... and Irish-whip them together! The Agency is down, and here's a cover: 1...2...3! And Pain and Pleasure, making quick work of the Agency.
That Agency really needs to focus more, because if you don't have focus, you aren't focussed on the match, and then you just lose all focus, and I'm pretty sure that's bad.
(Note: If this was a regular Monday Nae Trous, Captain Twilight would have been hit with a blackjack about now, or probably much earlier. Sorry to disappoint.)
Alright, you seal-clubbing fresh-water-hogging French-speaking idiots...
Jean Bannister: Hey! I don't speak French! I'm from Ontario, and we pride ourselves on being monolingual cripples!
How very typical. But this next team, you won't NEED to speak English or French to get through to these people, they wouldn't understand you and the only common language is PAIN.
Brings you back to the Berzerker or Yokozuna days, doesn't it?
The what days? I've only been following wrestling for the past two years. Anything before that is irrelevant, and I know everything about wrestling anyway.
Enough to Win Fred Meatnsaucy's Money?
Shut up. Hey wait, this script's all wrong. I've been following wrestling for some sixty-five years.
Maybe Captain Twilight has, but HERE to-NIGHT, you're Captain Kelly.
AHEM! May I present your next team, SPONTANEOUS HUMAN COMBUSTION!
(The lights go out.)
Oh my, what's happening here? I have no idea what just happened! What could possibly be coming up next?
I'm scared, VM!
(An organ chord plays. The arena is bathed in red light. A few more chords, then a bass drum, etc. The Monstron is showing some passing clouds on a sunset evening. Mmm...relaxing. SHC enter the ring. They lift their arms, then drop them and catch on fire. Okay, so some things we kept the same. They quickly douse themselves and the lights come up.)
Through HELLFIRE and BRIMSTONE, it's Spontaneous Human Combustion HERE to-NIGHT.

[[[Is this repetitive and clichéd enough for you? No? I think I heard a "No" somewhere.]]]

Scythe just picked up Sir Hungalot! CHOKESLAM! CHOKESLAM! CHOKESLAM! Good LORD!
Are you kiddin' ME?
(girly scream)
I was wondering about that one too!
***bell rings to break the doldrum.
Sir Hungalot has his hockey stick, and BOOM! Right in the NOGGIN of Scythe. The cover is made: 1...2...3! And once again, we have a typically short match!
Makes room for more commercials.
Alright, well, this is why we have a gauntlet you see. So, you Eskimo lumberjack high-gas-priced insert-Svend-Robinson-reference-of-choice here BASTARDS! I've got another team that's going to KICK YOUR ASSES! And neither of you pussies is going to do a goddamn thing about it! (pops for the swear words. Potty-mouthed crowd.)

We warned you it shouldn't be a surprise.

Good LORD!
Can he get AWAY with that?
Looks like he just did.
The next team of the evening...the PISSED TEENS!
Oh, are you kiddin ME?
(The Pissed Teens enter. They're topless with black pants. On their chests is painted some stupid-looking symbols, which the trained eye will recognize as various parts on a process flow diagram. See, there's a peristaltic pump, there's a gate valve, there's a tube-and-shell exchanger...)
What do you suppose those symbols mean, Jamal?
Probably something from a bizarre cult.
Like engineering.
***bell rings because none of you know about PFDs anyway. Okay, maybe the Right Hand Man.
Jean Bannister getting ready to lock up with Pissed Teen Tim. But oh no, here comes Bait and Switch with those Haliburton BRIEFCASES! How VILE! This is INEXCUSABLE, Jamal!
Come ON, VM, this is GREAT!
How come you never address me?
Oh, are you still here? Sorry. The Techie Salesmen from HELL, pounding away on those poor, defenseless men.
How are they defenseless? They're pro wrestlers, ain't they?
That's beside the point, Jamal. Just LOOK at them!
I'm more interested in finding some more PUPPIES! Woo hoo, PUPPIES! Here, puppies! *whistles*
You really need to get out more, Jamal. Or stay in more. One or the other.
Did you two beer-guzzling, curling-playing, lacrosse-loving Yankee wanna-bes think you'd get a fair fight? HAH! Well, I suppose you've passed the gauntlet THIS week. See you next Monday Nae Trous for the rest of it! Hope you're well-rested, because I'd HATE to see you get injured! HAH!
They've got chairs! They're setting them up in the ankles of Pain and Pleasure! And now they're stomping away!
They're giving the impression that Pain and Pleasure may actually be about to suffer something close to a broken ankle, one that can be healed within a week!
Heh hehyeah, I LOVE it!
(Shot of the Monstron. Luke Warm is watching the program on a small TV in a small room, which for some reason is being videotaped. Again, gigantic pop.)
LUKE WARM, people! Luke WARM is in the building! Stay with us!

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We're BACK! And as you can see, we're not about to get into anything wrestling-related right now coming back from a break, why should we? It's sports ENTERTAINMENT! Right now, we're going to see just who won the ICCTINACBBIC belt, so don't you go anywhere. Announcer Lad has the final decision.
Ladies and gentlemen, I have the results to the essay contest in my hand. Your new Intercontinental Cruiserweight "This Is Not A Championship Belt But It's Close" belt champion is....(opens envelope, fumbles with it, drops it, picks it up...) is...LENNY "THE FORCE" BAXTER!
(Some pop, some groans for the people hoping it was Flanagan, just to see him lose it because of the weight thing again)
Here comes Lenny now!
Lenny "the Force" Baxter: See? I did it! All I have to say is... I DID IT! Thank you all! Stay in school kids, because I didn't and now I'm making mega-bucks, and I'll be damned if I want any of you muscling in on THIS! (puts strap over his shoulder)
Yes, but did he forget he's defending the belt HERE to-NIGHT?
Lenny: As a matter of fact, I did! I AM?! Oh f<-BLEEP->!
(No, we can't get away with that one. But the crowd heard it and they popped for it.)
His opponent at this time, because we want to screw with everyone here...TOILET DUCK II!
Are you kiddin' ME?
I thought he was gone for good!
I guess he's not!
Here comes half of the STWF for their own personal "intervention"! We've seen the same thing happen with Soem Guy in a Mask, who later turned out to be Anarchy.
Where is Anarchy, anyway?
I have no idea. And normally I do have a few inklings, now and again. Toilet Duck II is being absolutely MAULED! What a slobberknocker THAT turned out to be.
I think this is going to be a no-contest, VM.
Thank God for that! Hey, are those PUPPIES I see over there?
Easy, big fella. Well this has been declared a no-contest and when we said he'd be defending HERE to-NIGHT, well I guess that's just not going to happen. But who cares? Because we've used up all our commercial breaks, and Sergeant Genocide will be defending his Intergalactic Belt RIGHT HERE, on this channel LIVE!
Sergeant Genocide is in the ring. He's decided he's too damn important to delay this any longer. And here's the Right Hand Man now.
RHM: Alright, Mr. First-Class Genes. Let's see how you fare against this member of the Hubcap Gang. We'll see RIGHT NOW, on this channel LIVE, just how superior you really are.
Sergeant Genocide: So, is it Luke Warm or what? Come on, you've been building it up to that.
RHM: Oh, that's what we WANTED you to believe. No, I wouldn't use your time wisely like that. I just want to make you come out and waste your precious time, because you're fighting none other than StreetMime! (pop)
Look at the puss on Genocide! He doesn't know WHAT to think!
Neither do I, frankly. Here comes StreetMime now, walking against the wind. He enters the ring and does some...well, I'd call it "jawjacking" or "taunting", except he's not using any words!
But from the looks of his hands, he's talkin' business!
***bell rings.
Sergeant Genocide doesn't want to waste any time. StreetMime is taking the beating of his life in there! And who can possibly stop it?
Oh, VM, you don't want to give it away like THAT, do you?
Yes, we knew that.
The fans cannot go disappointed! They need their fill of Luke Warm every week, no matter what the hell he does! Because he's one thirsty S.O.B.! LUKE WARM, ladies and gentlemen, and he clotheslines Genocide, who goes over the top rope and out of the ring. The bell has now rung, and Genocide wins by DQ, but that's not really important, because LUKE WARM is here!
YEAH! This is GREAT!
He's got a Luke-Hoo! And he's spilling it all over his face with a blatant disregard for the location of his mouth! He just has to prove to everyone that that's really Yoo-Hoo, folks. And that's all the time we've got, folks, so for Captain Kelly and Jamal Tupac Mustafa, this is good ol' VM, Angus "Vince" McMadden, saying we are OUTTA HERE!
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre