Monday Nae Trous
Monday Nae Trous - oh boy.

(Pan interior of the Slobberknocker Arena. This crowd is JACKED! We slipped some laughing gas and testosterone into the air conditioning vents.)
Simmer down, Angus. Don't stand so close to that vent.
Sorry. Well fans, welcome once again to another insipid episode of Monday Nae Trous. I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden, on my right is Captain Twilight, on his right, Jamal Tupac Mustafa.
I know you gonna dig dis.
Uh...yeah. In any event, we think you'll enjoy our little shindig tonight because...
("Enter Sandman" by Pat Boone plays.)
It's the Corpulent Ministry! They're not scheduled to be here!
Well, the One-Man Tag Team is. And he's the first match. So technically, yes they are. "Soft Core" Zack has a microphone - this part's not scheduled, but then, who really cares? It fills time.
"Soft Core" Zack: Behold the power of the Evil, Insidious Undergarment and his Corpulent Ministry! (boos) Boo us, will you? ... Good. We're heels, right? (confers with guys) Yeah, that's fine. Okay! But as you know, it's not just about me, and Deve, and Francis Sweet here, and Leaping Lonnie/Night Train, and of course the Undergarment.
Undergarment: Yeah, don't forget about me!

The smell makes it hard to.
(The Undergarment holds out what could pass for a hand. Jamal suddenly starts grasping his throat as if choking.)
Undergarment: Ha ha ha! Don't cross us again, Mustafa, lest we REALLY show our power.
Stupid Force. I coulda talked to dat old green guy, and learned sumpin', but dere was juss too much lang'age barriah, knowwutI'msayin'?
"Soft Core" Zack: But tonight, we will show the world the REAL power behind the Corpulent Ministry. The Taller and Considerably Fatter Power is among us! Oh tremble in his footsteps, as if you had any choice by the vibrations he causes when he walks. Taller and Considerably Fatter Power, come out here please!
(A cloaked figure enters along with the Rent-a-Druids.)
Can you see who it is? My cataracts aren't helping with this.
No, he's cloaked and hunched over. But one thing's for sure: he is quite fat indeed.
Look! On da Monstron! Iss Gary "da Glutton" Gourmando!
Oh, I see where this is going.
Hey! You people over there think you're so big? So big and fat? Look at all THIS, baby!
We'd rather not, thanks.
I can't believe you're going to make a stable of fat people without ME! Well I got news for ya. I'm not going to rest until this thing is settled, one way...or another. BRAAAAP!
I was startin' to wonda if it was really him, until I heard da burp.
Me too.
So come on, so-called Fatter Power, why don't you reveal yourself? COME ON!
Undergarment: Yeah, we were gonna just before you showed up and ran your yap.
And now, as you'll all see, the guy in the cloak will reveal himself to be the guy who was just onscreen. People, I give you Gar...
He's coming to ringside?
No! You were wrong. Mittens is the Taller and Considerably Fatter Power!
That doesn't make sense - why would the guy in the ring be a different guy than the one onscreen?
Cause we too cheap to buy videotapes so we can make pre-recorded comments?
Oh yeah, forgot to factor that bit in. Okay, the One-Man Tag is the only guy in the ring. Or guys, whatever. Here come his opponents now, OddJobber and Hammond Egger!
Uh...theme music?
For those guys? Be serious.
***bell rings.
Okay, so how do we determine who's legal on the One-Man Tag Team side?
Uh...if he hits with both sides of 'is body at once, iss illegal?
Okay, sure, why not. Okay, I believe the "Leaping Lonnie" half is starting off. There's a one-handed snapmare on Hammond Egger.
Is Hammond still on payroll?
Maybe. Do jobbers even get paid?
Da presence of PunkMe PayMe at one point indicated yeah.
Okay, sure, why not. But it's not like they'll get paid much, right? Big elbow by Leaping Lonnie. He claps in mid-air and I think it's Night Train's turn. Hammond Egger with a sunset flip! Night Train is down? 1...2...Leaping Lonnie makes the save.
Hmmm...looks like you've got a leftover script from MNT#60. Give me that!
Well I would have said the same thing even without the script.
Night Train looks angry! That half of the face looks furious! The other half remains indifferent. Neckbreaker by Night Train on the now-tagged in OddJobber. He whips Joe "OddJobber" Rain to the buckle, Night Train wipes his nose for the signal... and there's a big avalanche! He calls it the Night Train Express.
What kind of signal is wiping your nose?
He's brutish, vulgar, so why not?
The winners of this, winner, winners, whatever...THE ONE-MAN TAG TEAM!
The ref lifting both hands. So now let's move on to something somewhat enjoyable. Pain and Pleasure will finally get their chance to take on the Immortal Shapes.
Tag teams again? Man, howzat enjoyable?
Because El Spheros and the Square are set to kick some serious boo-tay!
Maybe we should save some of these so-called "clean" lines for when we spoof Nitro, hmm?
What's a nitro? Isn't that the stuff they used to kill immigrants down by the train tracks?

Angus "Vince" McMadden's racist comments in no way reflect the opinions of the STWF or its Executives, or any wrestlers therein. Well, actually we have to say "not necessarily", because we're sure the Rogue has some pretty evil opinions.
I heard that! And you're right! Ha-LA!

The following is a contest for the STWF(/MBC/RDWA) "3-4-1" Tag Team Championship Belts, and is set for one fall. Entering first, the challengers, you've seen them the past two Nae Trouses burning through the competition and now they're finally ready for the big moment. They are Sir Hungalot and Jean Bannister, PAIN AND PLEASURE!
(They enter, stop at the entranceway and pause. Vic gives no theme music.)

Jean Bannister: Hey, what gives, eh?
Voiceover: You don't deserve one! Now get down there and get ready for the beating of your pathetic lives!
The Pencil-Necked Geek sounding quite frustrated at the luck of this team.
Well, it wasn't ALL luck, I'm sure.
Here comes the PNG now, along with the Techie Salesmen and of course, Edwina. The "Intel Inside" logo keeps chiming.
Iss drivin' me nuts! Get it outta my head!
Okay, as you'll well recall from the past few episodes, these two Canadian idiots...
Sir Hungalot: Damn it, I'm not Canadian!
You're a cheap knock-off of a character portrayed by a Canadian and that's enough for me. As I was saying, these idiots have a title shot against the Immortal Shapes, who I've been guiding. And you'll get that shot because it was in the contract. But it never said you would be the ONLY ones getting a title shot in that match!
Jean Bannister: What are you getting at?
This match will be a triangle match, with the second challengers as none other than the TECHIE SALESMEN FROM HELL!
What? That's not fair!
Thanks for pointing out the stupidly obvious, we really need that.
You're right, we do. There's a lot of dumb people out there watching. They wouldn't have pieced it together.
And I guess they're too dumb to know they're being insulted right now?
Sounds reas'nable ta me.
Sure, yeah, me too. Okay, Edwina is setting up the ramp...
And the champions, from Mexico City, Mexico, with a total combined weight of 530 lbs., here are The Square and El Spheros...THE IMMORTAL SHAPES!
("Sabre Dance" by Khachaturian plays. The Square walks down the aisle without anyone noticing. El Spheros catches everyone's attention as he speeds down the aisle and up the ramp in his normal fashion.)

I shall never tire of seeing that.
Seeing what?
I've no idea. I wasn't paying attention.
***bell rings.
The three teams in the ring. Starting off it's El Spheros, Bait and Sir Hungalot. Bait and El Spheros double-teaming Big Sir as if THAT'S any surprise. The Techie Salesman now holding Big Sir on his shoulders... El Spheros bounces off the ropes and careens straight into the knight in latex armour!
What a great move! Sir Hungalot was knocked off his gourd with that one!
The Pencil-Necked Geek proving to be a more-than-capable manager. Bait tags in Switch. Keeping it fresh, are the Techie Salesmen from Hell.
I want a grammar check on that last sentence!
Hey, I speak plenty good English, thanking you very much. Go bug Jamal on his grammar, why do you not.
Huh? You talkin' 'bout me?
Sir Hungalot just managed to get Jean Bannister in there. He cross-checks Switch! El Spheros puts him in a backslide: Now there's that special Curvature Submission by the spherical luchador.
Having your back follow a circular path over El Spheros' body like that is not a desirable position. A nice variation on the bow-and-arrow.
Jean Bannister rolls back and grabs the ropes. El Spheros with a tornado punch and tags the Square. Switch is now in...he's got Jean set it the Millennium Crash? It IS! The Square lying on the ground with his knees up, they go straight into Bannister's already-injured back!
Dose Tri-Lambs mean bidniss.
Jean's back may not be able to take much more. The Square puts on a backbreaker, exacerbating the injury!
You cain't get away with sayin' dat, can you? You can only imply it, like on that "Seinfeld" show wit' dat contest.
I saw that episode, but what were they talking about? I didn't get it.
I said EXACERBATING, you idiot!
Man, wass this censor board coming to?
What I wouldn't give to have "Black" Jack Dealer in that spot right about now. Oh well, I give up. A "torture rack" is applied, forget about it, Jean Bannister taps out! And then he says he submits because tapping out still isn't considered a legal submission.
The winners of this contest, and STILLLLLLL Tag Team Champions, THE IMMORTAL SHAPES!
Wow, an impressive defense for the Immortal Shapes.
Wait, that doesn't make sense! Pain and Pleasure go through all that, and then they don't even win the belts, after this huge buildup? Stupid!
You think? Hey, wait, yeah, that IS stupid! Almost as if we had a new booker who didn't like the direction things were going.
Wass a booker?
It's not important. Next up we'll see Tyrone Mayhem in a nice return as he faces Handy Dandy Rocket Randy Armstrong.
This is a contest. See contest run. Run, contest, run. This is Randy Armstrong. He's from Saskatchewan. That's in Canada.
(Vic decides to play "Spaceman" by Bif for a nice change. Randy Armstrong is cool with it. He's got enough names to have pretty much any song be his theme. He finishes off a freshly-farmed pickle on the way to the ring, thumps his chest with the top of his fist to ease it through, and goes up the ringsteps.)
Here's his opponent. This is Tyrone Mayhem. He was good for a while but now nobody really knows. He wants my mom to check his package, but I don't know if she's got enough eyesight to care.
("Regulate" by Warren G plays as Tyrone enters the ring. He's wearing a "breathe-easy" strip over his nose. Or maybe it's one of those things to remove blackheads. We can't tell.)

***bell rings.
Tyrone Mayhem may be showing a bit of ring rust. He just fell for the handshake-then-kick-in-the-gut-bit!
They oppressin' the brother! You don't do dat to da man. Rodney King! Rodney King!
(Todd Bridges and Antonio Vargas are sitting in the front row with emotionless faces. They look at each other and nod once. DeForrest Kelley is in the second row, not seeming to enjoy the fact that syndication is keeping him alive.)
Rocket Randy Armstrong better be careful. It's one of those unwritten rules in the STWF: "Don't mess with the Ratings Flock. They have eerie powers." Tyrone Mayhem putting him down with a clothesline in the meanwhile, and we've got a crossface applied.
The Canadian Moon Man's face looking very cross indeed, but he struggles to the ropes easily enough. Back kick caught Mayhem off guard. Reverse neckbreaker by by Tyrone. Leaping bodypress by Tyrone Mayhem now and a few hard punches. The ref warning the returning competitor, and he backs off. Off the ropes! Falling headbutt!
Yeah, boy-eee! You show 'im.
Randy Armstrong is up. DDT! 1...2...oh, that was close. Putting Mayhem's head between the knees now, this could be any number of moves. He takes too long, Tyrone Mayhem with a vertical suplex. 1...2...kickout.
How much longer will this match take? Would you like to summon Deus X. Masheena for a nice ending to this?
Give it time, Cap, give it time. I know that at your age you need more sleep, but patience is a virtue, and I've already called your nursing home so they won't send out a search party or declare you legally dead.
Nursing home? So all those people in my house aren't really distant cousins?
I dunno, Cap, but don't take any chances - don't go cattin' around wit' 'em.
Gee, that's a mental picture I wanted, Jamal. Tyrone Mayhem right now driving a shoulder into Randy's collarbone. SMACKDOWN! Tyrone showing us exactly how bad he wants that belt. The Organ Grinder and J. Fred Kokomo Jr. coming down to celebrate: 1...2...3! Tyrone victorious in this encounter.
This is a winner. See Tyrone Mayhem's hand being raised. Good boy, Tyrone, have a treat. (shakes out cobwebs in his head) Alright, who's been screwing with my cards again?
Why Announcer Lad, we have no idea who would do such a thing to you. *snicker*
Alright! It's tiiiiiime for the Monday Nae Trous Main Event! And boy is this gonna be a biggie. Bohemoth will challenge Sergeant Genocide. Can the "Big Bo" claim the Intergalactic Title for the forces of good? Er...the forces of at-the-very-least-not-evil? I mean, he is insane.
For our sake let's hope he can. I'm sick and bloody tired of the Rogue telling us how he's got the POWER, baby, cause he owns the WORLD, ha-LA.
Iss an original catchphrase though, and thass kinda cool.
Yeah, we'll give him that.
This is a contest for the INTERGALACTIC TITLE and is set for one fall. Making his way first, the challenger, from Charleston, West Virginia, the 490-pound half-blind coal-mining wrestling behemoth, BOHEMOTH!
(The strains of Grieg pour out of the PA. The Caretaker comes from out of nowhere with a mop to clean it up.)
His opponent, the champion, the Top Rung, the Ukranian Monster, the Big Ethnic-Cleansing Machine, SERGEANT GENOCIDE!
("Intergalactic" by the Beastie Boys, the song for any Intergalactic Champion, plays as Sergeant Genocide marches to the ring. The Rogue looks downright diminutive by comparison, and he's no slouch at 6'3", 223. Trash is pouring like London drizzle, and the Rogue gets knocked near-unconscious by a stray Pez.)

Didn't dey ban "lasers and Pez" from d'arenas?
***bell rings.
Bohemoth starts things off with a big spinwheel kick! Wow! Sergeant Genocide goes straight back to the ropes with that one. Bohemoth with a head of steam, Genocide dodges to one side, Bohemoth bounces into the ropes, roll-up by the Sarge:
Quick question: is this going to be a Two-Minute Screwjob like all our other main events?
Do you want it to be?
Could help.
There's none scheduled. But that doesn't mean someone could just come on down here on a whim. I see the Pencil-Necked Geek has joined us for some commentary.
Sure, I haven't been in the booth for a while. Besides, Sergeant Genocide and I have a bit in common so it's right that I should comment on this match.
Whatchoo have in common widdat guy? Poor hygiene an' bad social skills? OW! Quit doin' dat.
No, you simian ignoramus, I'm talking about a championship reign and superior DNA. His on the physical side, mine on the mental.
It's a bad business complimenting the Gallery; you're declaring your ring politics and setting them in stone.
Bohemoth with a series of elbowdrops. I've counted 14 so far. I guess when you're insane you're prone to fits of repetition.
Fits of repetition?
Fits of repetition.
Fits of repetition, huh?
Fits of repetition.
You all REALLY need to get out more. I know a great Dungeon Master who's looking to start a new campaign, let me get you his card.
Was it just me, or did the hypocrisy just slam into me like a bullet train there? Bohemoth now sufficiently softened up Sergeant Genocide with 36 consecutive elbowdrops. What's the old record, Captain Twilight?
118. I set that one back in the late '40s, actually. Now THOSE were matches! The audience would be satisfied with 2-hour time-limit draws, and we had to keep 'em happy, but there's only so many moves. We had to stretch them a bit.
A hunned-eighteen elbowdrops?
Yup, and no pads. You can still see the skin graft! Take a gander there.
I'll pass, thanks. Bohemoth going to set up for the SMASHER, it seems.
(widening his eyes and setting down his milk) Pardon me a moment.
There goes the Geek. There's your screwjob answer.
But the real answer is, WHY?!
Something to do. The Geek pushes Bohemoth off the ropes. Bohemoth's odd center of gravity causes him to land right on his head. Sergeant Genocide catches an upside-down Bohemoth before he toppled over. Up and down for a modified piledriver!
That looked absolutely brutal!
He's methodically terrible. Genocide pins: 1...2...3! Another title retained. Yay.
Here's your winner, and STILLLLLL STWF/CSTLL Intergalactic Champion, SERGEANT GENOCIDE!
The Rogue is ecstatic. But both he and the Sarge seem to glare at the Geek. Do you think they appreciated his interference?
Doubt it, V.
The Gallery prides itself on not needing any interference unless it's from the Gallery itself. Col. "Pops" Khorne is yelling at the Geek now because he was apparently supposed to interfere. Edwina turns him around and starts cussing him out with her hands on her hips! What's going ON here?
I have no idea, but what's going OFF is this program for another week. So 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