It's the Fantastic Third Annual (Oh Lord...) Monster Bash!

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(Live! From Some Place That's Irrelevant To The Narrative... we pan interior...nope, nothing relevant here. We want action, not arena shots!)
Ladies and gentlemen, can you believe we're here at the third annual Monster Bash already! Why, I can barely remember the first one. Or even the second one!
That's because you got drunker'n a skunk at the post-Bash party both times...and both times ended up in my hotel room wearing women's clothing somehow. I really am starting to wonder if it's a coincidence. I'm locking my room this year, I swear.
I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden, and with me is the ever-ebullient Captain Twilight. Jamal Tupac Mustafa should be with us shortly...right after his match. Our opening bout, just to make sure that the people ordering this on PPV a bit late don't miss anything important, it's Black By Popular Demand, Tyrone Mayhem and Jamal Tupac Mustafa, as they take on douja and slater in an Incomprehensible Interview match. Let's take you to Announcer Lad for some pre-match comments.

(Backstage area that's even less relevant to the narrative)
Tyrone Mayhem and Jamal Tupac Mustafa. People are saying that when it comes to incomprehensible interviews, nobody beats douja and slater...nobody. How do you respond to that, and what do you think are your chances?

Man, who say dat? We's gots d'incompahensible stylee goin' ON, boy! An' if anyone sayin' dat Black By Popular Demand, we ain't got da skillz, we's too elaquint, we's too articalatin', we's too dis`n'dat`n'dis, yo, we's just got one thing ta say ta dat.
Tyrone Mayhem: What? You want me to say somethin', yo?
Man, we REHEARSED dis! Aww, now y'all ruined it, yo.
Whateva. Wanna check out the package? I got a delivery fo' yo' momma.
Uh...I'll pass, thanks.
Wa'n't talkin' to YOU.

douja. slater. Two mean, one-syllable words, no capital letters. Thoughts?
slater: thoughts?'re lookin' at the wrong guy for that, dude.
douja: who stole my draws? somebody stole my draws! huh huh.. i can't wrestle widdout my lucky draws..

You mean the ones on your head?
douja: oh yeah..huh huh..kept 'em fo' safe keeping. thanks, b<-BLEEP->tch. *inhale*
slater: like, save some for slater....yo....yo.

Well, there you have it. Judges?

Wait a second...judges?
It's an Incomprehensible Interview Match. Who needs wrestling? We just did that because we thought it would be funny to hear all those guys together. Ha ha!
If Jamal had the ability, he'd kick your sorry behind for that.
Yeah, if. Well, the judges are busy tallying the scores...
(Quick jumpcut to footage of chimpanzees pointing to cards and playing with an abacus)
Was that the right footage?
I'm not even sure...
Yes! It looks like douja and slater are the winners! Why....well, hear for yourself. Can we get an instant slo-mo replay of that winning phrase, Chet? No? Well, I tried.
Here are your winners, the undisputed Most Incomprehensible Interviews...douja and slater!
(crowd pops)
Now that THAT insanity is behind us...
Ahhh! That's not all that's behind us!
It's Mr. Intensity! He's coming to the ring with a chainsaw and a weed whacker!
Wow, that guy's intense! He should switch to decaf.
Digging out some classic wrestling commentary skills with that one, Vince. But where's his opponent?
Look! He's physically coming out of the ring! And what's he carrying?
Looks like a human being...and a bucket of...ewww, I don't want to venture a guess.
COMBATANT: And if I ever, EVER, observificate you defecatriculating underneath the circulamogrifitried squareoid, I will ensurinate that you will regrettamosify it...eternalitristically. Compherendicate, Curt?

Oh no! That poor unsuspecting ring-dweller has just been tossed out of the ring with that disgusting bucket.
***bell rings.
Oh, this...this isn't fit for television, folks! It just isn't! The sheer carnage! The horror! Mr. Intensity wielding the weed-whacker as he goes straight for COMBATANT's legs!
(crowd shot...many are covering their eyes or mouths in horror or nausea)
I can't believe we're getting away with this!
We ain't.
COMBATANT has grabbed the chainsaw away! He's cutting up the ringropes! Now he's about to strangle the life out of Mr. Intensity! Now he's standing on a turnbuckle and...
(dialogue drowned out by canned audience noise. Another crowd shot.)
Yo V, I cain't help but notice dat da PPV audience ain't gettin' dey money's worth widdis.
When was the last time ANY PPV audience got their money's worth?
Um....uh....yo....I cain't think back that far, V.
The defense rests, your honour.
OUCH! I don't think Mr. Intensity will EVER be recovering from THAT flesh wound. Did you see how it just...
(Angus and Jamal together): YES!
Even still, Mr. Intensity seemed to have got his composure back nicely from grinding his own organs last week.
I cain't watch! Yes I can!
Mr. Intensity has set up the chainsaw blade-up in the middle of the's still running! He's going up top for what looks like a Superplex!
My God!
Ohhh yeah, boyeee!
(Crowd shot of guys with signs. One reads "THAT'S GOTTA SMART", the other reads "WHATTA MANEUVER!")
I think I'm going to be sick!
***bell rings.
Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has ruled that neither competitor is in sufficient shape to continue.
Both men, in their ragged conditions turn to face the ref, who's smiling like an idiot and an idiot.
He reminds me of Wile E. Coyote just before he gets hit with a piece of cliff.
They still showin' dose t'ings?
OH! The ref is taking all kinds of abuse from COMBATANT and Mr. Intensity now. And I can't describe any of it, because even our PPVs are censored!
We really oughta look into that.
Wouldn't be nearly as fun otherwise. Okay, while the Ambulance Jockeys are taking away our poor ref, and Raoul Ramon Ramirez steps in as our auxiliary...
Well what do you expect? Us to have more than two refs?
This contest is a "Hey, the guy just wants to get ranked match" and is set for one fall. Entering first, the guy who wants to get ranked, from Hollywood, California... TENTIN QUARENTINO!
Voiceover: F<-BLEEP->in' lights... f<-BLEEP->in' camera... and you better f<-BLEEP-> believe f<-BLEEP->in' action!
("Stuck in the Middle" plays as the big-headed man struts his way to the ring.
And his opponent, who, if he wins...uh...hmmm, it would appear that this gimmick match wasn't worked out very well. Blame DK, everyone does. Here, from Ames, Iowa, is "Soft Core" Zack!
Voiceover: Uh....I'll have what he's having?
(whispered voice in background, sounding like Deviance): No!

(Pat Boone sings them in.)

***bell rings.
Zack: Wait a minute...what do I do if I win? All I see are benefits for big-head-boy.
You know, ever since he parted ways with his material writer, he hasn't been the same. Just now, he left his whole stipulation open, not bothering to think of what he gets if he wins.
That's absolutely right, it's his own fault.
Zack: Wait...what are you saying?
***bell rings.
Tentin Quarentino wasting NO time! He's running with all his might like a charging rhinoceros, what a gigantic headbutt!
Y'know, they's a way ta keep a rhino from chargin'.
Oh really? What's that?
Take away its credit card!
*rimshot from out of nowhere*
Jamal, please don't take advantage of your face status with bad jokes. They'll still throw stuff in this direction.
"Soft Core" Zack is rocked! But there's a forearm smash. Zack slowly regaining momentum. He's slapped on an armbar... it's the bread and butter for anyone who can't think up anything original!
Zack: Wait...what are you saying?
He's saying you need a handler or else you're a nobody!
Uh...when I think up a comeback, you're going to be SO dissed, Twilight! It's not even going to be funny.
Yeah, I'll bet it's not.
Quarentino with a roll-up! 1...kickout by Zack. Deviance is pounding the mat! Now she's coming over here.
Iiyeah, c'mere, honey girl. Wassup, baby?
Easy, Jamal, you don't know where she's been.
Sho' I do. I read her resume and extensive list of references.

They just get WORSE and WORSE and WORSE...don't they folks? You can guess the rating by now.

Deviance is reaching for a piece of paper and my "Picture Pages" marker! Careful, that thing's got a powerful mojo going.
(the trademark squeaks can be heard through one of the headset microphones. Deviance sticks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, concentrating as she grips the marker like a dagger. Okay, so she's not the brightest of girls, we didn't hire her for brains.)
Zack: That's it! If _I_ win, you've gotta direct my RPs!

What's the time on that swear word, Cap?
Mine's an analog. Wouldn't settle for less.
Eight seconds at least. Good breath on Tentin there, he's one conditioned athlete for a film director. Zack just clobbered Tentin with a double axehandle. And there's a backbreaker! Zack actually showing some skills... normally he's just into beating on his opponent with soft, mollycoddling weapons.
Still fun to watch, tho', y'gott' admit.
Sure! I'll admit that.
Zack just went into an inside cradle! 1...2...3! It's over!
What the hell? Already? is your winner..."SOFT CORE" ZACK!
Wow! That came out of left field.
My pacemaker skipped a beat!
On to our next match. Now, this one's undergone a lot of backroom talks and changes and renegotiations. The Circus Freaks will battle Spontaneous Human a Weenie Roast match!
Sounds intriguing. How's it work?
Well, all four participants will be wearing special airtight plastic weenie suits, with hot dogs sewn inside. The object is to get your opponents over the open flame in the middle of the ring, in order to get the hot dogs to plump and burst open the suit in an ORGY of flying weenie.
DIS was da final outcome?
Hey, both teams agreed to it.
Sometimes I wonder if the STWF is doomed.
Our loyal audience members and wrestlers have been wondering that for weeks now. Welcome to the club.
This is a Weenie Roast match that's set for one fall. Well, not really a FALL, even, just a splatter or something. Making their way to the ring now, from Parts Unknown, here are Sasquatch and Dizzy Desi, the CIRCUS FREAKS!
(They emerge wearing bright blue suits that look very bumpy indeed. Chock full o' frankfurters, they are. The Freaks also have eyegoggles to protect them from any foot-long projectiles.)

Their opponents at this time, from Guyana, with a combined weight of 819 lbs., here are Scythe and Implosion, SPONTANEOUS HUMAN COMBUSTION!
("Monster Men" by Iggy Pop plays as SHC emerge in similar bumpy weenie-suits, except in bright red.)

The fire's being lit by the Pyro Guys now...I think they're using too much starter fluid...
Yup, they did. Well, close enough to a bell.
Sasquatch and Scythe starting things off. Scythe with an Irish whip to the ropes. He leapfrogs Sasquatch's run across. *sniff* Is that burning hair I smell?
Man, Sasquatch is gettin' singed! Dis was SO not thought through! *cough* Dis is wack. (covers his nose and mouth)
That unholy stench is filling the damned arena!
Scythe now putting a torture rack on Sasquatch, right over the flame! I can see the plastic expanding a little...I can hear it too. Oh, but Sasquatch just got out of it, there's a backslide! Scythe is right in the middle of the flames! Kickout. Tag to Implosion. He gets on the top buckle, HIGH crossbody by the big man. He hooks the leg. The ref's not counting! Reverse DDT by Implosion. He rolls Sasquatch to the fire...Sasquatch just keeps rolling and now he's outside the ring! He's doing some digging underneath the ring. What do you think he's going to find?
I dunno...but I hope he finds it soon!
Implosion follows him outside the ring. He grabs a chair...Sasquatch catches it and throws it away! Now he roars in the masked man's face. There's a staredown. Belly-to-belly by Sasquatch. He gets back in the ring and tags Dizzy. Now Sasquatch gets back out? He's alternating his time between beating on Implosion and looking under the ring. Okay, now the bigfoot rolls Implosion back in the ring and continues his hunt.
I'm unsure of the strategies involved in this match. We've never had anything like this before, so I guess it's keep your opponent close to the fire, without getting close yourself!
Wow, Captain, that's some strategy. Did you think of that all by yourself?
No, actually. The producer helped. So did this script.
Well, I admire your honesty. Implosion has tagged Scythe back in. Good tagging strategy by SHC - keep it fresh. And the hot dogs, too. Scythe with a piledriver! Now he slowly turns Dizzy-D over the fire in the ring...I can hear them plumping! I can almost smell them sizzling now! But NO! Here comes Sasquatch with his's a cooler! It's labelled "Property of Death". I suppose he found Death's secret stash way back when he was around!
Wassee gonna do wit' alcohol?
Sasquatch shaking out the bottles all over Scythe! He's covering him in flammable alcohol! Dizzy Desi with a headscissors. Scythe falls in the ring, and look at that flare-up! The hot dogs are being seared, and there goes the plumping!
(Okay, fine, YOU try making up the noise exploding hot dogs would make, smart guy!)

The fans are getting out their plastic tarps - good thing we told them that Dusty Rhodes was rumoured to be a special guest ring announcer. Look at that weenie fly!
Unh! I'm hit, yo! Mock-food-related injury! Call my lawyer, someone's gonna PAY f' dis!
Get serious, it's only...oh gee willikers, that left one nasty welt, didn't it? I had no idea hot dogs could be so dangerous.
Obviously you haven't eaten enough of them.
Here are your winners....THE CIRCUS FREAKS!
The only question that remains is, if Billy Polar and Mittens the Mannerless can defeat Pain and Pleasure tonight and win those straps, will the Circus Freaks get the title shots they were promised?
Can Billy Polar be trusted?
Can we stop asking questions that nobody's answerin'?
Evidently not...or can we?


(Shot of Angus, Jamal and Captain Twilight sleeping on their desks. All look ragged. A cattle prod from offscreen jabs Angus in the arm.)
Urgh! Huh? Cap, Jamal, wake up! I had the weirdest dream that we were at Monster Bash. But it only ended at Act I and stopped for three days. And you were in it...and you...and you!
Eeeeh. Not really, but I can always be the man of YOUR dreams.
That's very disturbing. *shudder*
*YAWN* I sure hope we got paid overtime for that.
Yeah, I gotta feed my $400 a day habit!

Did I say habit? I meant rabbits. Dey pretty big, yo, and dey multiply a lot.
Well, we're ready to go with our next match...Homicidal Hank vs. Sergeant Genocide... Atomic Wedgie Match! Let's go to it now.
The following is an Atomic Wedgie match. It's set for one fall. Both participants are wearing special Supralastic Brand Briefs - just for the SNAP! Entering the ring first, accompanied by King Spike, former STWF champion of some kind...HOMICIDAL HANK!
("I'm Going Slightly Mad" by Queen plays. Hank enters to a the kind of pop that signifies the first sign of life in three days. It's mostly positive considering he's fighting the Rogue's Gallery.)
His opponent, from Kiev, Ukraine, representing the Rogue's Gallery, he is the Top Rung, the Big Ethnic-Cleansing Machine, the DNAtor, he is...SERGEANT GENOCIDE!
("Extermination Blues" plays. People start throwing trash without realizing a protective net was strung over the entryway to prevent trash from getting in the walkways. That's going to be the next step, people, wait and see!)

***bell rings.
Okay, remember the objective here is to get the underwear over the opponent's head. Singlets were disallowed for this match, for the record.
Booooring! Get to da point.
Hank with some forearms. Snapmare takeover by Homicidal Hank. Sergeant Genocide right up and executes an armdrag takedown. Grinding an elbow into the ear of Hank now...
Oh, that's gotta hurt! That elbow-ear thing.
Say, did anyone find out the results of yesterday's "Who's Willing To Settle For $32000?" episode? I missed it.
We were here! Who coulda seen it?
Uh...hey. Just passing by, thought I'd tell you that the gay guy lost, and the fat nerdy guy stopped on the last question because he couldn't remember how many doughnuts were in a baker's dozen. He had it down to 12 or 13.
Man, that's HARD! I would have stopped too.
Me too!
A dozen's a dozen, right, who cares who made it? Gotta be 12.
Thanks, Lad. In any event, Sergeant Genocide's got on a waistlock! He's reaching down for the briefs... he's got 'em! A sharp tug, and Hank's walking funny! Hank manages to struggle away before they get to his noggin'.
Hank: OWWWWhoohoohoohoo! That smarts!
I sho' wouldn't wanna be in Hank's shoes now, unh-unh.
Hank waddles over to the buckle to regroup. Genocide can't get at the underwear from such a position. Big running boot by the Sarge, he catches nothing but air! Hank with a small package, he's got a handful of briefs! TUG! Both men feeling the effects of a wedgie, which considering we're all wrestling fans here, we've all been subjected to at one point or another, am I right?
You betcha.
Hank's getting the underwear up...up...Genocide rolls over!
Sergeant Genocide: YOUCH! Slight aggravation.
Genocide admitting to pain? Wow. He runs at Hank, double underhook powerbomb! He rolls Hank over... he's going for them again...back kick by Hank! And seeing the wedgie the Sarge has, it's all the more painful. Hank runs behind Genocide, I think this could be it! Here come the briefs...they're at the middle of the back...the shoulder blade... the neck... YES! Sgt. Genocide's Supralastics are on his big bald head!
Here is your winner...HOMICIDAL HANK!
WHATTAMATCH! I could hardly contain my excitement there. How about you guys?
Can I go back to sleep?
C'n I chat up that honey in the fifth row?
No, both of you will sit and behave like good little commentators.
Ohhhhh, no fair! *pout*
Pouting doesn't work on me, I'm not Der Kommissaar. Well, as you can see now, the cage is set up and both Luke Warm and Dr. Sillaconne M. Plants are being fitted with their suction cups. Let's go to Announcer Lad inside the ring for some pre-match comments.
"   "
Luke Warm: "   " (double thumbs-up. Huge pop)
"   "
Dr. Sillaconne M. Plants: "   " (makes cupping motions in front of his chest. Boos.)
Nice move asking for comments when everyone's inside a plastic cube.
How was I to know the sound wouldn't carry?
***bell rings.
Dr. Plants lifts a hand for the test-o'-strength. Luke happily complies. They lock up with their suction-cupped gloves...
Yeah, how are they going to free themselves?
We REALLY didn't think this one through. Plants kneeing Luke in the midsection, Luke with a headbutt. Luke falls over on the Doc. Sillaconne rolls over onto Luke: Both men struggling to get up, they're still joined at the hands! Dr. Plants boots Luke in the knee! But now he can't free his foot! Those suction cups are STRONG! It may not be good for action, but hell if it doesn't look like fun for the audience, who are laughing their heads off. Luke does a twisty maneuver and there's a backslide! close. Dr. Plants only has one appendage free. He's hopping around by Luke, looking for an advantage. Luke meanwhile trips the Doctor and stomps on his chest.
Oh Lord, don't these guys learn?
Plants tries to kick Luke off him...
There goes the last appendage. This is like some sicko sadist Twister game.
Luke trying to free his last foot. He puts his other one on the turnbuckle for leverage. Neither man can move now! The ref is stopping the match.
The ref has determined that neither man can continue, this match is a NO-CONTEST!
Somebody get the spatulas and crobars! We'll need to start the next match.
We di'n't even get to see someone climb da walls! What kinda sh<-BLEEP-> is dat?
It's STWF sh<-BLEEP-> of course, and don't let anyone tell you different.
Angus "Vince" McMadden! I'm ashamed of you, swearing like that.
Hey, it's a pay-per-view! And it's bleeped anyway.
Title matches coming your way next!

And as the days and years fly by, the action continues.....

For those of you who are interested in such things, the Agency took on the Amubulance Jockeys in a dark match sometime during the "intermission." The Jockeys won.... now pick your jaw up off the floor.

(The scene opens with angus and Vince at the announcer's table, looking well rested after their week off. Some whacko behind them is holding up a sign that says "Where the hell did Jamal go?")

All right fans, we are back and now it's time to really get the action going! What a series of matches we have coming up for you!
Kinda sad though. All the biggest matches are on their way and the "superstar" with the most heat has already come and gone, and in a no-contest, no less.
Never say die, cap! We can still bait the crowd with the promise of the IG champ defending against Bohemoth! And what a match it will be! A "Sodden Death" match! If the Tiger wins, Bohemoth is to be tarred and feathered on the spot and he must leave the STWF forever!
So it's a retirement match? Forever isn't a very long time in "our sport..."
Oh no- here's the twist- if Bohemoth wins, he not only becomes the Intergalactic champion, but he must MOW BOHEMOTH'S LAWN!
Oh my lord. My heart is in my throat.
On to our first title match of the evening then. We've got the North American title on the line as the Mad Cow Takes on the Violent Pacifist.
That's right- in our very own "Sole Survivor" match! Any form of shoe is an acceptable weapon, and won't it be fun to see the leather fly?

This match is for the North American title! Now making his way to the ring, weighing an awe-inspiring 330 pounds, from Seattle, Washington... THE VIOLENT PACIFIST!
(VP comes to the ring too. You know the drill.)
And his opponent the North American champion, at a truly delectable 350 pounds, THE MAD COW!
(Mad Cow makes his way to the ring mooing like a mofo as "Cowboy Song" subjects itself to the audience.)

It's been a rough week for everyone, Cap. Cut the kid a break. The bell rings, and we are already underway. That's what the STWF is all about, folks- NON-STOP action. Not putty-faced cowboys or scriptwriters who try to imitate putty-faced cowboys or unbeatable bald people.... Oh. Nevermind that last one. Not the same old crap every week. NEW crap every week. That's why this will be THE BEST MONSTER BASH IN THE HI-
I'm going to hit you. Hard.
Sorry, lost it for a minute there. Mad cow with a series of punches but the VP coming back nicely! He's got one of those two-tone wingtipped dancing shoes that all the kids were wearing during the swing revival a while back. What are those?
Spectators. Damn fine shoe if I do say so m'self. Oh, and he's really spectating all over the Mad Cow right now-- what a shot!
Action spilling outside the ring and these two are really brawling at ringside. If they're not careful they could be counted out here!
Yeah, like that ever happens anymore.
They've gone over the barricade now and into the first row! What a battle this has become!
I think it's time for my medication... Ooh look! The Cow just walloped VP with a great big Chuck!

Converse Hi-top Sneakers are affectionately known as "Chucks" as they bear the name Chuck Taylor. The STWF: edu-tainment at its finest.
And what a shot it was... too bad the poor guy was still wearing the shoe when VP did it... he'll be sore for a couple days. Mad Cow coming back now with a big kick to the gut. Looks like he's rallying towards the ring.
Good tactical move by the Mad Cow. You can't beat a man unless he's in the squared circle!
Action back in the ring now and VP seems to have gotten a bedroom slipper from somewhere and my God is he getting brutal with that thing! He's wailing on the Mad Cow with absolutely everything he has!
Be that as it may, it's still just a bedroom slipper. The Mad Cow looks annoyed more than anyhting else. Going into his trunks now. Oh my.
He's got a HORSESHOE! I guess that counts....


One... two... three! This one's in the books!

Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, the North American champion, THE MAD COW!

The Mad Cow successfully defending the North American title, and what a night it's been!
We've only had the one match, you hack.
Geez, Cap, suspend your disbelief. Next up tonight, the both-arms-in-a-cast-evening-gown-on-ice match for the Tag Team titles. Mittens the Mannerless and Billy Polar to challenge Pain and Pleasure.

Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is set for one fall and it is a both-arms-in-a-cast-evening-gown-on-ice match for the 3-4-1 tag team championship.
I just said that.
Introducing the chalengers, at a total combined weight of.... a hell of a lot, the team of BILLY POLAR and MITTENS THE MANNERLESS!
(The challengers find their way to the ring. Mittens has his arms in a cast, but no sign of an evening gown for the big lug.)
And their opponents, the 3-4-1 tag team champions, PAIN AND PLEASURE!

The champions making their way to the ring now, both in casts and evening gowns and not looking any to thrilled about it.
And it looks like the ref is arguing with the challengers now... he seems to be holding a camping tent.
No.... I think that's the mumu-like evening gown that Mittens has to wear for the match! Apparently if Mittens does not wear the garment, he and Billy Polar forefeit their shot at the titles!
And the ref and Billy Polar struggling to get the gown on Mittens as the champs make it into the ring, albeit with a little difficulty.
Mittens is getting a little steamed... make that a LOT steamed!


And he's ready to pop! OH MY! Mittens spinning through the ring like a whirling dervish! He is furious! And the match is underway with all four men in the ring!
Mittens backing up now and running into the fray full bore, tears of rage streaming down his cheeks! He collides with the rest of the humanity in the ring... and he's swinging away with the casts!
I think Billy Polar took the brunt of that charge Mittens just treated us too, Angus. Looks like he cracked his head on the ice.
It doesn't matter now-- everyone but Mittens is OUT! Mittens falls over on Sir Hungalot, which has got to really smart in its own right- One... two.. three! That's it!

Ladies and gentlemen, your winners... and NEW STWF 3-4-1 champions, BILLY POLAR and MITTENS THE MANNERLESS!

And I don't think Mittens the Mannerless even cares that he's won the titles! He's just struggling like mad to get out of that gown! Plaster from the casts flying everywhere.... He's out of the dress and out of the ring! Mittens headed back to the dressing room... he's so pleased with himself that he doesn't realize Billy Polar is still motionless in the ring.... Wha-- the trapdoor in the ring is opening up... what's going on?
If COMBATANT is still here, I'm quitting.
That doesn't look like COMBATANT at all... it's....
Oh.... my... God.
Patrick "The Finger" Patrickson is sticking out of the ring and has Polar by one arm! He's dragging him under the ring!


The evening gown can't be helping things either I wager.
Oh well, he's gone now. Let's move along to the next match, shall we?
And this one does nothing for me. I hate these newfangled machines.
That's right folks-- the ICCTINACBBIC belt is on the line as the incumbent Lenny "The Force" Baxter takes on the Pencil-necked Geek. And what a doozy it'll be-- a Virtual Reality match!
I stil don't trust those durn things....
While Captain Twilight shows his age, I'll discuss the details of the match. Both men will be wearing virtual reality helmets and be immersed in our STWF VR world! There they will be able to surf the ether and fight it out in various virtually realistic settings... And both men in the ring now having the helmets strapped on their heads.
Not a lot of fanfare around this one, eh?
It would appear not... but the goings on for this match will be viewable to you viewers at home and our great audience will be able to see all the action on the Monstron. In theory. But the Wall O' Signs might make that a little unlikely.
Oh, somethng's happening. Both men squaring off against each other on opposite ends of a blank digital grid now... and the Geek falls through one of the holes in the grid!
I think that means he's going to "link" to a different VR area... I wonder where the Geek will take us! The Force following closely behind... they're on a beach now, from the looks of it.
I think I'm starting to get what's happening here... the Geek is taking The Force to his idea of a Virtual Reality world! And it makes perfet sense now... of course the computer-savvy Geek would take us to a bikini beach!
And the Geek is laughing maniacally! He can't lose in his own ideal world! And look-- it's Chesty McHoutres! The most downloaded woman on the Internet! She's attacking Lenny on the Geek's behalf!

GEEK:Haha! You can't win now! This is MY fanatasy world! Everything works MY way here!
L"TF"B: Or is it?

Now what do you suppose he meant by that, Angus?
I don't have a clue... but Chesty is really unloading on the champ now... wait.... Baxter is grunting... concentrating hard... OH MY GOD! THE HEAD EXPLODY! THE HEAD EXPLODY WORKS IN VIRTUAL REALITY!
I see what Lenny meant about it maybe being his world now, that's for sure. The Force concentrating hard now... The Geek is starting to falter... could it be that he's about to-


(The screen goes blue. You know... THAT screen.)

What the hell's going on?
It looks like the match isn't happening after all! I think they got too virtual! Windows crashed! The referee removing the helmets from both men now... oh my goodness. They're drooling like litle infants... I guess getting disconnected from a VR system prematurely is bad for you. Oh well, we just won't do it again after this. Or at least we won't use Windows 98.

Ladies and gentlemen, both participants have been incapacitated. Your winner, and the NEW ICCTINACBBIC champion, BILL GATES!

Unbelievable. This is right up there with COMBATANT on the Captain Twilight scale of Stupid Sh<-BEEEEEEP-> I Never Needed to See.
Nonetheless, a brand new ICCTINACBBIC champion crowned here tonight. And who's swearing now, Cap? The STWF roadcrew now setting up for the "Sodden Death" match for the IG title... want to tell us how it works, cap?
Not especially. Basically, the ring is replaced with a ring-sized sandbox that is then filled with dirt and sod to simulate a lawn... see, if the Tiger loses the match, he has to mow Bohemoth's lawn. It's a handsome little gimmick, really.
I'm just glad Patrickson isn't involved in this match-- that ould have a totally different meaning in the wrong hands.
Isn't he still under the ring with Billy Polar?
Couldn't tell ya, Cap. But we'll know in a second as the top-notch crew here is removing the ring... let's see.... oh my.
Billy Polar laying there where the under the ring are would have been... Evening gown in tatters.... more or less motionless...
He seems to be twitching a little... not the twitching motion of a well man....
Isn't that a <-BLEEEP-> sticking out of the <-BLEEEEEEEP-> in his <-BLEEEEEEP->?
It could be- I don't have the courage to look. And Patrickon is nowhere to be seen- off like a thief in the night!
God in Heaven please never let us learn what he stole.
Okay, it looks like things have gotten straightened out here, and now good old Announcer Lad is on the lawn and on the stick.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this contest is set for one fall-- it is for the INTERGALACTIC CHAMPIONSHIP! Now making his way to the ring area, to the sonorous rapture of that "Mountain King" song, the challenger-- BOHEMOTH!
(Big Bo makes his way to the sodplot looking like he means nothing but business. Because he does.)

And his opponent-- from Richmond, Virginia, weighing in at a fit and muscular 253 pounds, the STWF Intergalactic champion, THE TIGERRRRRRRRR!
("Intergalactic" plays as our hero makes his way to the ring accompanied by a "Hey, you might be as cool as Luke Warm"-esque pop.

And look at these two men sizing each other up as the crowd goes wild! This is the one we've all been waiting for, folks!

*bell rings*

And the fight is on! Look at Bohemoth romp through the grass!
And the big sunuvagun is leaving great big potholes in the sod! Look at him ambling toward the Tiger!
Lockup now-- is this a good idea? I mean, Tiger is giving up a lot of weight and raw power here!
Maybe so, but what the hell, it's his belt, right?
Maybe not for long! Big fist by Bo sends the champ down to his knees. And the Tiger is reeling! This isn't looking good for the champ....
And the precedent has been set here for all sorts of title changes... the trend of the evening is not in the Tiger's favor.
But no! The Tiger fighting back to his feet with a flurry of forearm shots! And a BIG slam on Bohemoth! Where on Earth did he get the strength to do that?
Bohemoth looking awful worn down after being slammed into several inches of that soft sod.
Stomps by the tiger now, and the tide has turned indeed! The champ picks Bo up and goes for another slam-- it's not going to happen though.
I guess Tiger used up whatever he had with that first slam. Bohemoth not going to give the champ a chance to catch up again this time-- a big kick to the gut follwed up by a massive gorilla press!
Things are looking bad for the champ... OH NO! Huge splash across the back of the champ while he's down! I can guarantee you the Tiger will be nursing some broken ribs form that spot... I mean shot.
Who's that heading down from the back?
It's Luke Warm! Luke Warm is in the house!
I thought he left the arena late last week!
It would seem that if he did, he's back now! It looks like Luke isn't going to let this fight go on without coming down to represent!
You did *not* just say that.
I miss Jamal, I guess. Where did he go, anyway?
I think he went looking for some alternate recreation... it's best left undiscussed here.
In any case, Luke Warm is in the sodplot! It's going to get messy here folks! He's staring big Bo down.... Bohemoth has turned his attention away from the fallen Tiger! It looks like this might have just been a ploy to buy the Tiger some time to recuperate from the beating he's taken!
The crowd is going nuts for Luke Warm! I think they want to see Luke and Bohemoth hook it up! Bo is really hot under the collar- he doesn't like Luke out here when he's so close to winning the IG belt!
But I don't think it's going to happen tonight, Cap. Tiger is back to his feet but Bohemoth's back is turned! Luke is starting to back away from the battleground and Bo is charging! Tiger looks a little perplexed... I don't think he's got his wits about him yet. Bo coming closer to Luke... STONECUTTER!
Well that was no great surprise. You would think anybody would know better than to charge Luke Warm during a run-in. Especially when he hasn't dlivered a STONECUTTER in a while.
True enough. Luke hightailing it out of there in hopes that the ref won't finish his phone call before he's safely away. Tiger on his way towards Bohemoth now, and it looks like the big man is out cold! I guess Faces, Inc. can say they've managed to hold onto the IG belt here tonight, and what a show it's been!
Don't get ahead of yourself, son. Bohemoth may be out cold, but Tiger's still on rubber legs. He's coming toward the big man, but it looks like he's...
Oh my! Tiger just put his foot in one of the potholes Bo stomped in the dirt and he is DOWN! I think he might have broken an ankle! And it looks like Bohemoth is coming to!
See what happens when you count your chicens before they're hatched, McMadden? Looks like the odds are a lot more even now.
More than that! Bohemoth is on his fet and he doesn't really know what's happened! He's gone over to the Tiger and it looks like he's trying to set him up for somehting here... he's going for a pickup- grabbing the Tiger by the ankle- WAIT! The Tiger is tapping out! Being grabbed by that injured wheel was more than the champ could take!
Ex-champ now. This one's all over!

Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, and the NEW Intergalactic champion, BOHEMOOOOOOOTH!

All right folks, Bohemoth is celebrating his victory now and the STWF has a new Intergalactic champion! And what a nigh- uh, week or so it's been! For Captain Twilight and the AWOL Jamal Tupac Mustafa, this is Angus "Vince" McMadden saying good night and good riddance to Monster Bash '99!

©1999 Stereo Type Wrestling Federation/Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre