Monday Nae Trous
I Hate Mondays. Nae Trouses, though...

(The familiar Slobberknocker Arena is shown. Familiar groups of audience members are given camera time: the Sarcastic Fratboys of Phi-Alpha-Gamma house, the beatniks with espressos, the Ratings Flock (hey, is that Ron Polillo?), and of course, STWF audience mainstay "Violent" Vinnie Mansbridge, still biding his time before giving that initial RP that will finalize that contract. He's doing his best to ignore the female midget fangirl-mark next to him.)
Hello fans, and welcome to another completely dull episode of Monday Nae Trous! We've got action so mediocre you'll be itching to see what's going on in Oliver Copp's Smoky Championship Wrestling!
Angus "Vince" McMadden! What are you telling those poor fans?
Just the truth, my good man. This fed stinks. Where's all the realistic action maneuvers? All the combos? Managers trying to interfere three times a match? Six finishers that don't finish? THAT'S what the fans want to see, Captain Twilight. THAT'S what the fans want to see.
Uh...I'm getting word that some nasty stuff is going down in the back. Kamera Kid, get down there and see what's happened!
Kamera Kid: I'm not getting paid enough for this...
(he starts running, carrying the bulky camera over his shoulder. Eventually he reaches the back.)
Good heavens! Someone's just been laid out! Quick, turn him over so we can see the victim of this dastardly deed!
Kamera Kid: I ain't touchin' him. I've seen enough episodes of Matlock to know that if you touch a victim the police will walk in and you'll be the prime suspect.
Here comes the Right Hand Man to assess the situation. The body is turned over to reveal...Angus "Vince" McMadden? With "TNM" sprayed on his chest! What a disgrace! Wait a minute, then who are you?
I'm the man who'll be displaying some REAL commentary skills tonight. Soon, every wrestling knee shall bend at the name of the Darkspawn Oliver Copp! Muwahahaha!
Yo, do I git ANY lines tanite, o' what's da dillie-yo?
Oh, greetings Jamal, didn't see you there. Be careful, there's a bad feeling in the air and it's not Gary "the Glutton" Gourmando's digestive processes.
Word. So we's gots some large bidniss tanite. We gots three belts goin' up on da line. Docta Plants takin' on da Tiger, Homicidal Hank facin' da Mad Cow, and da ICCTINACBBIC belt be's up fa grabs as Lenny "da Force" Baxter squares off agin' slater...and Mittens? Wassup widdat?
I'm not sure. Even if Mittens wins he'll be forced to give the belt up due to weight restrictions. If you'll all recall the same thing happened to Flash "the Mastermind" Flanagan.
Flash Flanagan! See, only a pathetic fed like this one could ever possibly accept a "real" wrestler.
Flash Flanagan is hardly a real wrestler by even the loosest definitions and everyone knows it!

I sure hope he's still not reading these...or do I?

But first up, yo, iss da Violent Pacifist vussus da Big Bo himself...Bohemoth.
Wait just a minute here. There's no tag team matches in there! We need a tag team match! To cleanse the pallette!
Uhh...kin we do it after dis one?
Oh, sure, why not. Give them the good match to start.
This contest is scheduled for one fall. Making his way down the aisle, from Seattle, Washington and weighing in at 330 lbs., THE VIOLENT PACIFIST! What the hell? This is an opener? Where's the tag team match?
("Closer" by NIN plays. The VP enters through the crowd, making sure to step on feet and press down on people's heads to get to the aisle. He then smiles and gives a sarcastic "Sorry!")
His opponent, from Charleston, West Virginia, he weighs in at an earth-shaking 490 lbs., from the Asylum Alliance and accompanied by the Circus Freaks, here is BOHEMOTH!
("In the Hall of the Mountain King" by Grieg plays. Big pop. People have nearly forgotten the Circus Freaks, but rest assured they'll be back. Someone's gotta take on the Immortal Shapes.)

***bell rings.
They lock up.
Bohemoth nails the Violent Pacifist with an armbar submission.
The referee counts: One, two, kickout.
The Violent Pacifist misses with an elbow.
Bohemoth misses with a clothesline.
Bohemoth works the crowd.
The crowd is cheering on Bohemoth.
The Violent Pacifist hits a German suplex on Bohemoth.
Bohemoth executes a wristlock.
The Violent Pacifist is struggling to get out of the hold.
The Violent Pacifist tries to fight the pain.
The pain of a wristlock? Give me that damn mic!
Yah, man, even I's betta dan dat. So check my play-by-play skills to pay da day-by-day bills. Yo, so da big guy he hittin' on the smaller guy and den he brings a big legdown.
He pinnin', but it ain't goin' nowhere, yo. Den da Violent Pacifist is up and man! dere's a nasty ropeburn for da guy with one glass eye.

*grunt* That's good, Jamal, just keep it up. *ungh*
No! Get away from me! You're not calling all the proper action! Look, a small "The Violent Pacifist" chant is started! They're brawling inside the ring! Get away! The Darkspawn always wins!!
Alright, Harrison Ford, calm down or you'll have an apoplexy. Bohemoth uses a fisherman buster on the Violent Pacifist! Hey, get your hands off me!
Uh...Da VP mountin' a comeback. He got a bulldoggin' headlock down. An dere's a phat elbow. He flips over da Big Bo and hooks da drumstick: Aw, dat was close. Da Big Bo with a sunset flip! Where'd DAT come from? Lookadat! Cap, y'see dat?!
I'm a little busy right now. Can we get Chet to give a replay later?
Good luck.
Bohemoth runs into the ropes.
Bohemoth gives the signal for the Smasher.
Bohemoth executes the Smasher on the Violent Pacifist.
The Violent Pacifist goes for the pin.
The referee counts: One, two, Sasquatch puts Bohemoth's foot on the ropes.
Bohemoth goes for the pin.
The referee counts: One, two, three.
Damn you and your seventy-dollar registration code! You could spend that money for two years of a dot-com! We sure did and it worked great! Now speed thee to the pit from whence you were spawned!
Was it a good match? What'd I miss?
Great match, but it WAS an opener. NOW kin we get to da tag team match?
Not just yet. We have a little problem over here. There's only one way to combat the Darkspawn. It's his one weakness. Hey you! If A = B and B = C, then A = C!
Acronyms are supposed to stand for something!
And finally, you cannot score a pinfall after a duck-down move!
NOOOOOO! (he disappears in a flash of light and a puff of acrid smoke)
What was DAT all about?
Logic. Copp's minions can't handle it. I doubt we've seen the last of them, though.
But wit' him gone, and da real Angus laid out, who gonna do da play-by-play?
You and I?
Eeeeeeh. Somebody call me?
Don't worry. I'm on good medication now. It's helping me. Honest! Ooooooh. (pulls out his gigantic lollipop and licks it)
If that's the case why is your hair still in a cone, and why are you wearing that same getup, the jacket and tie with no shirt?
You're so cute when you're angry. Eeeeeh.
Ugh. Announcer Lad?
This is a tag-team contest. It is set for one fall! Making their way to the ring at this time, from Silicon Valley in the Sixth Circle of Hell, accompanied by various members of the Evil Alliance, here are Bait and Switch, the Techie Salesmen from Hell!
(The Intel Inside logo chimes flutter through the PA. Bait enters holding a sign reading "I'm Not Going Anywhere With You Today". Boos for the heels. So what else is new?)
And their opponents at this time, accompanied to the ring by "Soft Core" Zack, here are Chase Ate'um and S&M, formerly Hammond Egger and StreetMime, the NO TALENT SOLDIERS!
("Larger than Life" by the Backstreet Boys. If that doesn't reflect no talent, I don't know what does. S&M drops from the rafters. That's right, folks, we refuse to let a death stop us from doing rafter drops! Besides, if he dies there's plenty more people willing to be StreetMime. And if we offended anyone, tough. Good luck finding another parody fed.)

Oh my, we're in for some fun today, aren't we?
Sho' I guess.
***bell rings.
Okay, it's Hammond Egger up against the devious Switch. Or rather, it's Chase Ate'um, but does anyone really care what the jobber is called? The pastry chef takes a BIG clothesline from the nerdemon. With superhuman strength, Switch puts a scoop slam to Hammond Egger, oh that's power!
Dat's a hernia waitin' ta happen, dat's what dat is.
Hammond Egger is up now, and that's the sorriest looking headbutt I've seen in my sixty-five years...and considering I've seen yours that's saying something, Jamal.
Man, I gots da hardest head in da bidniss. My headbutts are da bomb!
Oh, they bomb alright. Hammond Egger is tagging in S&M, or StreetMime as he used to be known. The former Hubcapper in there now, fighting in vain. Switch tags Bait and there's a double DDT. I think that'll do it.
StreetMime still goin' down afta one hit. Typical Mime.
Here are your winners, the TECHIE SALESMEN FROM HELL!
Boy, I'm so glad that match was over quickly. I'm also glad that crazy guy is gone. I can't name him lest he shows again. Oh, it's time for commercials, whattaya know!

(A bunch of twentysomethings are standing around and looking somewhat aloof. Total white background. The young people then sing "In the Navy" with straight faces. After this, text appears on screen.)
Everybody in sailor suits.

Y'know, I gotta get me onadose sailasuits. Y'see that fine-lookin' black chick in it? Mm-mm. Makes me wanna stand up an' salute.


Oh, it wasn't that bad. But right now, it's going to be a three-way match for the ICCTINACBBIC title. It's slater, it's Mittens, it's Lenny "the Force" Baxter!
MITTENS?! He near 500 lbs! He cain't win the title.
Won't stop him from trying. All three men in the ring now...
***bell rings.
Lenny Baxter and slater teaming up on Mittens right from the start! They want to take out the big man as quick as they can. Which is somewhat dumb, because he can't possibly win and keep the belt anyway.

Lenny "the Force" Baxter: He can't?
Dey changin' strategy!
Of course. Lenny Baxter puts slater in a small package. 1...2...Mittens doesn't get there in time! The champ is still the champ.
Dey ain't done...
No indeed. Baxter and slater are still beating up Mittens! slater holding Mittens while the Force wails away. Mittens eventually shakes them off and lumbers away, shaking his head.
Shaking his head? Maybe dat's da'effects of da Head Implody!
Yeah, I'm sure that's what it is...

Lenny Baxter: For all those of you who don't understand what exactly went on...slater has joined my group, the Mad Force Clan! He willingly let me pin him, and we went on to fight Mittens afterwards to show our alliance.
Well how wuz WE ta figger dat out?
You weren't. It was implemented badly because Der Kommissaar sucks! That's why I thought I'd get on the mic and fill in the gaps. So does everything make sense now?
No, not can hear the confused mutterings in the crowd even.
Baxter: ARGH! Sometimes this place gets me so annoyed I could scream. Come on, slater, there's no point in sticking around.
slater: uh...willingly let you pin me? yo?

And there they go, newly-forged friends. Yeah...
So that sucked.
It's still better than having those TNM guys try to call our match, isn't it?
(crickets get louder)
Alright, Vic, you can stop sampling the crickets now.
Y'all'd think he could get sumpin' musical ta sample. O' just get some phat beats from some old-school stylin's.
I have no idea what you just said. So I will let it go. But let's go straight to a North American Championship match! Homicidal Hank is ready to defend against tough competition in the Mad Cow!
I like Hank's chances. He can still mix it up even though he got some ring rust.
That's a valid opinion, I suppose.
Making his way t...hey, when'd YOU get here? Currently in the ring, from Calgary, Alberta, the challenger and overall STWF personality-type, THE MAD COW!
And his opponent, the homicidal, homicidal, HOMIcidal one...the North American Champion...homicidal HANK!
(Hank enters, holding King Spike, as "I'm Going Slightly Mad" comes through the PA via Vic)

***bell rings.
It's the Mad Cow and Homicidal Hank, together at last.
They fightin'. They ain't togetha.
They're in the ring together, aren't they?
Listen, homes, don't mess wit' me, a'ight? I'll cap you, Cap.
Homicidal Hank with a hammerlock, and he leverages that to put the Mad Cow to the floor. Mad Cow's arm is being pulled, but he reaches the ropes. Hank's not letting go! Okay, now he does. Some serious brawling going on...The Mad Cow hammer-throws Homicidal Hank outside the ring. They're going up into the locker room area...can we still get a feed? Kamera Kid, get over there!

Kamera Kid: Forget it, man... my last paycheck didn't clear. I'm on work-to-rule. I'll keep filming this empty ring though if you don't mind, and maybe look for some funny signs.
Hey! My last paycheck di'n't clear either!
Since when are you getting paid? I've just been informed that Hank and the Mad Cow are in the basement by the circuit-breakers...
Da lights just went out! And m...
(extended period of dark silence except for the occasional cheers, "boring" chants and laser pen flashes. The lights go back up - eventually.)
Oh, there they are! Strangely back in the ring. It took them quicker to get here then it did to leave.
You don' s'pose it's got anythin' ta do wit' da trap doors under da ring, do ya?
I wouldn't really presume that far, Jamal. Those trap doors are pretty rusty and I believe that's how we lost Marshall Madd, but I can't exactly be sure.
Who's Marshall Madd?
Hank puts a running powerslam to the Mad Cow! Oh my, that's gotta hurt. One...two...shoulder up! Mad Cow's not done yet.
When will'e be, I wanna see da main event, yo.
Have patience, my son. All will be rectified in due time.
You BETTA not be my dad. I don't know who my dad is, an' I got a list o' suspects, but you betta not be him, beeotch.
Okay, fine. The Mad Cow blocks a shot and sticks a thumb in the eye of Hank. Terrible. Now Mad Cow is giving Hank a formal introduction to the turnbuckle! 1...2...3...4...5! Only 5? Okay. Homicidal Hank shaking the cobwebs out and there's a short clothesline by Hank. The Mad Cow goes down. 1...2...reversal by the Cow! 1...kickout. Oh no, here comes Sergeant Genocide to ringside! What does he want?

Maybe he wants Madame Bovine.
Sergeant Genocide: I heard that, and you'll get yours eventually, you no-talent genetic-scum "face"!
Sergeant Genocide just nailed Homicidal Hank with a vicious forearm! Why would he do such a thing?!
Sergeant Genocide: I'm a heel. He's a face. Do I need another reason?
No...I suppose not...
Sarge: Good. Glad you see things my way. (lifts sleeve to reveal a steel plate)
The ol' steel-plate forearm bit. Booyeah.
Well, there's no way Hank's getting up from that. The Mad Cow hooks the leg: 1...2...we have a new champion.
Here is your winner....and NEEEEEW North American Champion, THE MAD COW!
Well, after this unfortunate turn of events, we can only hope to see some sense in the Intergalactic Championship as Dr. Plants will lock horns with the Tiger.
This contest is for the Intergalactic Championship, set for one fall or something, I guess. Does it really matter? Because at this time, the challenger is making his way down the aisle, and he's really good or something, from Richmond, Virginia, here's THE TIGER!
(The Tiger runs down to ringside before Survivor comes out of the PA. He grabs the mic.)

The Tiger: Yeah, thanks for the great intro, Lad. Stay hot, superstar. Now get out before I reconsider this whole "face" thing with the Hubcap Gang and beat you down in front of dozens of semi-apathetic fans!
(sizeable crowd pop. Announcer Lad leaves.)
The Tiger: Oh. Well, I suppose that leaves me to introduce my opponent. From Naples, Italy, he's the paper IG champion, the Most Unoriginal Man in Sports Entertainment Today (TM), here's Rock-tor Silly-Ripoff M. Plants!
("Intergalactic" by the Beastie Boys plays as Dr. Plants runs to the ring. The Tiger dropkicks him just before the...)
***bell rings.
Here we go, for one of the most EXCITING matches of the evening!
We don't know that.
Sure we do.
Hey guys, what'd I miss? I know I was laid out. Whoa! Main event! Dr. Plants just LEVELED the Tiger with that spear! Now he's punching him in the face; the ref is making him quit.
You ARE Angus "Vince" McMadden, right? It's not like you're one of the Darkspawn minions or anything, are you?
Captain Twilight, how long have you known me?! Of course I'm not one of the Copp-outs.

Hey! That's a good one, I gotta remember that.

Hey, who's doing this show, Ratings Man, you or us? Okay, the Tiger is up and he executes a nice fireman's carry takeover. A cover, a count, only two-and-a-half. SO CLOSE!
Good to have you back, Vince.
Yeah, we missed y'all, V.
Thanks. Flying forearm smash by Dr. Plants misses by a mile. Tiger's fistdrop catches nothing but canvas. Spinning heel kick by the Tiger, caught by Plants, Tiger with an enzuigiri that hits! Plants sold that one like a pro.
The champ selling moves? *sniff* Brings me back to the good ol' days.
The days when a 90-minute time-limit draw was called a mat classic?
Of course. What do you call a mat classic?
Two pints o' blood and a b<-BLEEP->tch losin' her top.
Jamal, you are so late '90s it's truly frightening. The Tiger makes another cover: 1...2...WE HAVE A NOOOOO! Shoulder up.
And YOU, my friend, are early-to-mid '90s.
That's why they hired me, Cap, that's why they hired me. Wait'll you see my wicked Halloween costume for Monster Bash - I'm going to be one of those Ninja Turtles that all the kids like so much.
(sound of audience collectively slapping their foreheads)
HEY! They were good. Dr. Plants just laid down a reverse DDT on the Tiger! Now he's reaching into his pocket. He pulls out an elbowpad! He's putting it he's ripping it off!
That ain't ALL he rippin' off.
OHHH! Jamal Tupac Mustafa actually says something clever! This truly is the greatest Nae Trous EVER!
Sillaconne bouncing off the ropes multiple times. He pauses in front of the Tiger's prone body and here comes the Planted Elbow! Oh, but the Tiger rolled out of the way.
He wasted too much time!
He wastin' EVERYONE'S time.
Jamal flexing his face smack-talk on the heel Plants. The Tiger now making the signal... it's going to be the Tiger Driver! YES! He makes a cover. 1...2...NO?
Crowd: GASP!
Hey crowd, when the cue-card says "gasp", you're supposed to sharply intake air, not say "gasp".
Crowd: SORRY!
Dr. Plants tries a hit, blocked, he nails another one, but here comes the Tiger once again, it's a SECOND TIGER DRIVER! This one's through.
Let's hope so...I'm tired and incontinent.
1......2.....3! New intergalactic champion!
Here is your winner, and NEEEEEW Intergalactic Champion, THE TIGER!
Yeahhh! That's m'boy!
The Tiger once again holding the Intergalactic belt, and regains the rights to "Intergalactic" as his theme song once again. Here comes Luke Warm to celebrate with some ice-cold Luke-Hoo! The Tiger's hair is wet with the chocolate milk but he doesn't care, he's a champion now! Oh, look at the time, we gotta go so onbehalfofCaptainTwilightandJamalTupacMustafaI'mAngus"V..."
©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre