[Open up on Broderick Ezekiel Craven's office in the back of the
Armory.  Zeke shuffles papers, doing some random lawyer-ish drudgery,
sighing, and checking his watch.  Suddenly, a breathless fat man
bursts in through his door.  Yes, it's “The Gutch”, AKA Gutch
Bartilucci.  Scowling, Zeke addresses his visitor.]

Zeke: Dammit Gutch, what's the hold up?  Our meeting was scheduled for
an hour ago.  Do you think I have nothing better to do than wait on
you?

Gutch: *Gasp!  Wheeze!*

[The balding, fat caveman/ape hybrid holds up one finger, as if to ask
for a moment to catch his breath.  Zeke merely rolls his eyes.]

Zeke: And where's Livestock?

Gutch: Duh ... dunno!

[Standing up, Zeke turns two shades of red and rips his neckbrace off.
Red beard bristling, violently scratching at his scalp in an
expression of frustration.]

Zeke: How do you lose track of a six-foot-six prettyboy?  Did you call
Hewitt?

[Nodding, Gutch gives the “one second” gesture again.]

Zeke: The man's got a concussion, Gutch.  That means that, until he's
healed up, he's more of an idiot than you.  All I wanted was for you
to get him to where he needed to be.  You two are attached at the hip
until I need you to be, and then boom, milk cartons with giant
prettyboys plastered all over 'em.

[Suddenly, “I Like To Move It” by Reel 2 Reel plays, and Zeke stops in
his lukewarm tirade, plopping down into his chair again and slapping
his forehead.  Gutch reaches into his pocket, pulling out his
cellphone.]

Gutch: Rin-ringtone for 'Stock!  *Pant!*

[Flipping the phone open, Gutch smears away the flopsweat from his
cheek, then speaks.]

Gutch: Hey, hey 'Stock!  Where you at?

[Listening, nodding, Gutch coughs once.]

Gutch: Uh ... yeah.  Little spaced out, are ya?  But you remember your
name this time, right?

[Pause again.  What do you expect?  You're only hearing one side of
the conversation.]

Gutch: Uh, sit tight man, I'll come get ya.

[Shutting the phone, Gutch turns towards Zeke with a sheepish smile.
Eyes narrowing, Zeke glares at him from across the room.]

Zeke: Where's your partner, Gutch?

Gutch: Uh ... he's ... down on the square.

Zeke: The square!?  Right in the middle of the damned ghetto!?

Gutch: No problem, I'm goin'!

[Stepping out from behind his desk, Zeke's becoming positively livid.]

Zeke: You'd better!  Those thugs down there will eat that prettyboy
partner of yours alive!

[Fade to black.  The words “thirty minutes later” flash across the
screen.  Then, fade in on Zeke's office again just as Gutch and
Livestock are walking in.]

Gutch: Got 'im, boss!

[Looking up from his work, Zeke lays down his pen, and looks Livestock
over.  'Stock is bleeding through a bandage on his head, and looks
dazed, but looks otherwise okay, with a gunmetal gray suit that
matches his compatriots and a black briefcase.]

Zeke: Okay, so what happened, and make it quick.  We don't have much
time left here.  I have to get with the SSN people concerning royalty
rights.

Gutch: Oh, okay.

[Clearing his throat, Gutch does his best to not look nervous.]

Gutch: Well, see, y'know, like what?  A month ago?  Livestock here,
y'know, had his “Called Shot” match.

Zeke: Yes, I'm quite aware of that.

Gutch: And y'know about his concuss--

Zeke: Yes, I know!  I told you to look after him because of it!

Gutch: Right!  Uh, well, y'know, since he already had a concussion
from dat metal case Merc uses ... well, it looks like it wasn't as
healed as we thought when he got whacked during the match.

Zeke: And his head?  Did he take another whollop?

[Raising a confused eyebrow, Gutch glances at Livestock, noting the
bloody bandage.]

Gutch: No, no.  I mean, he just got lost on account of his general
spaciness.  Forgot we existed until he noticed my name on his cell
screen and called me back.

Livestock: It itches.

Zeke: Yeah, bandages do that.

Livestock: I scratched it.

Zeke: Clearly.

Gutch: So ... what's up with the meeting, boss?

Zeke: Oh, so we're finally interested in what the mastermind of this
whole affair has to say?  Well, fine, I'll tell you...

[Wadding up a piece of paper on his desk, Zeke hits Gutch in the face
with it.]

Gutch: Hey!

Zeke: For the last several weeks, we've been shunted to the side by
lesser talents and less-connected individuals.  It's sad, really.  You
see, with my connections to the Strickland Corporation, my status as
head attorney for PVW, and your size, Livestock too, we should already
be the PVW Tag Champs.

Gutch: We?  But you don't wrestle.

Zeke: Silence!

[Pause.  Gutch slaps a hand over his mouth.  Livestock's head lolls
back and he looks at the ceiling.]

Zeke: I kill you.

[To understand that joke, watch Jeff Dunham's comedy DVDs.]

Zeke: The point is that, somehow, we are being systematically
marginalized by the company.  I think it all begins in PVW's front
office; stemming from a resentment towards SSN, the deal with which
was brokered by our lawfirm.

Livestock: But, uh ... why ... would PVW want us in the margins?  Are
we on paper?  Is this paper?

[Zeke blinks, Gutch's eyes bulge, and they both look at Livestock, AKA
the level-headed sensible one, with shock and horror as he strokes his
armchair as if he were on X.]

Zeke: Okay, I'll record this meeting for him to listen to after they
get some more drugs in his system.

[Hitting a button on his laptop PC, Zeke continues.]

Zeke: If you didn't notice, I've put out a line for a new paralegal.

Gutch: Paralegal?  What for?  To push papers around?

Zeke: No, you ninny ... as muscle.  My plan was for the second
paycheck associated with allying with us in our “day jobs” to pull in
a heavy talent so that we can make a power play.

Gutch: Oh ... okay.

Livestock: Uhm ... anybody we know?  Or did know?  Before my head got
caved in?

Zeke: Well, not that I said we found anybody, but, well, yes, we did,
and it is someone you know pretty well.

Gutch: Please tell me it's not your brother.  Last time I saw him he
called a ham sammich.

Zeke: Interesting, but no.

Livestock: Is it Brody Thunder?

Zeke: What?  No.  Boy, that would've been something, but no!

Livestock: Wait, do we know Brody Thunder?

Gutch: Uh, no buddy, we don't.

Livestock: Is it Serge Annis?

Zeke: Enough, no more questions.  This meeting was supposed to be
longer, and he was here, but now you're just going to have to be
surprised with everybody else.  Gutch, get this cracked egg over to
the emergency room.  See what meds they can get in him to clear up his
newfound case of space cadet.

Gutch: Yeah, okay.  Cool.

[Helping Livestock up to his feet and out the door, Gutch leaves.
Zeke rubs his temples as they depart.]

Zeke: Oh man, this is not good.  Even with another man on the team,
we'll be hard pressed to save face after being so underutilized...
Gotta make an example of somebody, and I know a few Canadians that
would be perfect for that role...

[Reaching down, Zeke grabs his neckbrace, putting it back where it
belongs (on his neck), grabs up his briefcase and heads for the door.
Screen goes black as the now-familiar WMI spider logo flashes across
the screen, followed by...]


.______   ____    ____ ____    __    ____
|   _  \  \   \  /   / \   \  /  \  /   /
|  |_)  |  \   \/   /   \   \/    \/   /
|   ___/    \      /     \            /
|  |         \    /       \    /\    /
| _|          \__/         \__/  \__/

is proud to present a
 _    _ _     _                               _
| |  | (_)   | |                             | |
| |  | |_  __| | _____      ___ __ ___   __ _| | _____ _ __ ___
| |/\| | |/ _` |/ _ \ \ /\ / / '_ ` _ \ / _` | |/ / _ \ '__/ __|
\  /\  / | (_| | (_) \ V  V /| | | | | | (_| |   <  __/ |  \__ \
 \/  \/|_|\__,_|\___/ \_/\_/ |_| |_| |_|\__,_|_|\_\___|_|  |___/


 _____
|_   _|
  | | _ __   ___
  | || '_ \ / __|
 _| || | | | (__ _
 \___/_| |_|\___(_)




Presentation


of a


 _______  _______  _
(  ____ \(  ____ \( (    /|
| (    \/| (    \/|  \  ( |
| (_____ | (_____ |   \ | |
(_____  )(_____  )| (\ \) |
      ) |      ) || | \   |
/\____) |/\____) || )  \  |
\_______)\_______)|/    )_)



Production




======================================================================

    ____                   _                ______________          __
   / __ )__  ___________  (_)___  ____ _   / ____/ __/ __/__  _____//_
  /  _  / / / / ___/ __ \/ / __ \/ __ `/  / __/ / /_/ /_/ _ \/ ___/__/
 / /_/ / /_/ / /  / / / / / / / / /_/ /  / /___/ __/ __/  __/ /__/ /_
/_____/\__,_/_/  /_/ /_/_/_/ /_/\__, /  /_____/_/ /_/  \___/\___/\__/
                               /____/

======================================================================

[The screen rapidly strobes for a moment before the driving beat of
Marilyn Manson's "Fight Song" roars to life.]

Nothing suffocates you more than
the passing of everyday human events
Isolation is the oxygen mask you make
your children breath in to survive

[A shot opens on the crowd surging to its feet before panning over to
"The Phenom" Tommy Ryder posing at the entryway with "Lady" Laurel
Levninger flashed on the screen, quickly followed by Gibson "Red"
Hayes with the Network Title raised triumphantly above his head.]

But I'm not a slave to a god
that doesn't exist
But I'm not a slave to a world
that doesn't give a sh--

[Cut to The Mercenary charging and laying the Haliburton repeatedly
into the side of William Craven's head.  Then "Omnifly" Will Geddings
charging the ring and nailing Shadoe Rage with the Eagle Claw DDT.
Then to The Spectre gnawing on Rob Cole's forehead, blood smearing on
both men.  Then to "Paladin" Chris Hartt unloading on RJ Souza with a
baseball bat.]

And when we were good
you just closed you eyes
So when we are bad
we'll scar your minds

[Cut to Chase Williams locking in the End Game armbar on Caleb Foley.
Then "Showtime" Rick Marley hitting the limelight off of the top of
the ladder during the Called Shot match.  Then William Craven as Major
Damage planting someone with The Tunder Melter.  Then to Larry Gionet
dropping "Sugar" Shayne Grissom ribs first over the guardrail.]

fight, fight, fight, fight

[Cut to Nick "Always" Wright hitting "Lady" Laurel Levinger with a
plancha from inside the ring.  Then to Rob Cole hitting Spectre with
his Cast Out Powerbomb.  Then to Derek and Shadoe rage demolishing
someone with The Tower of Doom.  Then to Gutch and "The Gambler"
Judd Marley exchanging punches furiously in the middle of the ring.
Then to Caleb Foley nailing Chase Wiliams with Irish Eyes Are
Smiling.]

You'll never grow up to be a big-
rock-star-celebrated-victim-of-your-fame
They'll just cut our wrists like
cheap coupons and say that death
was on sale today

[Cut to The Dragon Kid flying over the top rope with a plancha to the
outside.  Then to "Pokerface" Mark Masterson laying on the boots to
Tyrone Parker.  Then to Migeul Quesada and Randy Acorn locking up in
the center of the ring.  Then to Eric Williams running down
the aisle towards the ring.]

And when we were good
you just closed you eyes
So when we are bad
we'll scar your minds

[Cut to Urban Legend taking the fight to The Prophets of Rage.  Then
to The Tucson Kid holding his hands above his head, soaking in the
adulation of the crowd.  Then to "No Worries" Rob Magnum yanking the
slegehammer out of Rick Marley's hand as he attempted to cripple
William Craven.  Then to "The Natural" Mike Castillo nailing a step up
shining wizard.]

But I'm not a slave to a god
that doesn't exist
But I'm not a slave to a world
that doesn't give a sh--

[cut to Livestock getting hit in the face by his valet, then staring a
hole in her.  Then to Outlaw in a split screen with Bobby Cole
charging to the ring.  Then to Hijo del Sol hitting an inverted DDT.]

the death of one is a tragedy
the death of one is a tragedy
the death of one is a tragedy
but death of a million is just a statistic

[Cut to a shot of "The One" Brian Young holding the title above his
head in triumph after beating Chase Williams and Caleb Foley.]

fight, fight, fight, fight

[Its banner time. A black one. With Blood red letters splashed across
it that read "Phoenix Valley Wrestling..]

"This is called debunking the myth, 101. Take notes bitches."

[Chase Williams, looking rather dapper and refined in a pair of
pressed Black Armani slacks, and a pair of patent leather gators,
completes the outfit with a crisp grey dress shirt and a deep burgundy
tie. All in all, a touch of class.]

"The word myth is derived from the Greek word mythos, which means
"word of mouth." As we all know, the "myth" of my next opponent has
been perpuated largely by, word of mouth. The Monster under the Bed.
Rob Cole. I say, he's the ultimate myth. The reason I'm standing
here before you?"

[He looks down his nose at the camera.]

"Because people still believe and perpetuate the myth of Robert
[beeping] Cole. Somewhere along the way, the bloodletting that Cole
takes part in inside a _WRESTLING_ ring, somehow became "wrestling"
itself. Where on the marquee does it say "Professional Snuff Films?"

[He presents the banner with a sweeping motion. it does indeed read
"Phoenix Valley
Wrestling".  He speaks the truth

"How does engaging in a pseudo-suicide fest with the PVW's other
dreadlocked emo moron all the sudden stamp you as the next person in
line for something that was _stolen_ from me? The monkey's in the
office think you deserve a shot more than I deserve a rematch... Cause
you didn't lose as much blood as the other guy."

[He shakes his head in disgust.]

"Congratulations Rob, you're tough. We know. You're a tortured soul
with a troubled past who people have tormented for no reason for your
entire career. I know all about your history with the Underground,
with Yakuza, and with a buddy of mine. What the entire thing
boils down to is that you've been playing the same card for years, and
thats not gonna fly for you this time. I don't believe the hype Rob.
Your family, your problems, your past, your present, and your future
amount to little more than [beep] to me. The _only_ thing I
wanna do at this point?"

[He takes a step toward the camera, running a hand the length of his
tie he half smiles before continuing.]

"Shatter the image. I've already beaten you Rob, I have complete
confidence I can and will whenever I want. No... I want to embarass
you. I want you to rant and rave at me for the next week about what
you're gonna do, the demons you're facing or whatever else you pull
out of your endless bag of bullshit, and then I'm gonna  climb into
that ring and break your [beeping] nose. You understand me _kiddo_?
People say I run my mouth a lot but you're a disrespectful little
prick. You just won't be a man about it. Ylanna taught you to be a
little more subtle eh Rob? You [beeping] dunce, you make me sick."

[He spits.]

"People like you and Stormy-boy. Why don't you just throw the facade
away and be a man? Or else you guys can go somwehere and get married,
cause this crap you guys have been pulling... Its getting pretty
stale."

[He glares.]

"I don't care about your stories Rob, but I'm sure you'll offer
plenty, lemme just clue you in a little because I know you're pretty
slow. you _can't_ beat me. Whatever makes you believe the crap that
flows from your mouth... It has _no_ effect on me. And I don't have
some fanboy crush on you like the last guy you carved up. To me,
you're just a statement."

"A [beeping] martyr for Dex and the rest of the crew that think
royally dry[beeping] Chase Williams is something they ever want to do
again. Force my hand by serving Rob Cole to me on a silver platter?
Your hero? Your monster Under the bed? This whole situation, could've
been avoided if people would've just done whats right. Instead, I get
ignored and stuck in tag matches."

[Pause]

"You made a mistake PVW. Rob Cole is one of the most dangerous men on
this roster, but you just spoon fed him to what soon will be revealed
as quite possibly the _most_ dangerouse man on this roster."

[Smirks]

"Me.... And _champ_... if you're having any thoughts of coming to
ringside... _don't_. Or I'll make sure whats left of you will fit in
the same ziplock bag as Cole..."

[Sneer. Fade.]


[Then fade in on the PVW studio.  Jack Britain is joined by "Putter"
Preston Winfiend as the two appear to be discussing something as the
music dies down.  Britain has on a corporate pinstriped suit while the
older Putter has on a Tiger Woods wannabe golf shirt and slacks.]

JB: PVW is back in action, wrestling fans and we are back on the air
on Strickland Sports Network.  I am Jack Britain and my new co-host is
the one and only "golden throat", "Putter" Preston Winfield!

PW: Taking time off from my golf game to be in the studio with
you...we need a voice of reason in this place, after all.

[Cut to Chris Hartt storming into a hotel room, trailed by the PVW
camera crew. He rushes up on Rob Cole, who is still carrying the
Championship over one shoulder. Hartt is furious, pointing at the
title... he seems lost for words, and Cole furrows his brows for a
moment before lifting the remote control and clicking the television
off.]


Hartt:  What the hell, Rob?!?  Thievery??  Is THAT what you're into
now??  Being a bloodthirsty monster wasn't enough, you had to start
taking stuff from people?  What next?  Are you gonna start wetting the
bed again?


[Cole continues to stare at Hartt... he takes a deep breath and nods,
tossing the title from his shoulder so that it lands on the bed. He
places a comforting palm on Chris' shoulder and leads him to the other
bed and slowly urges the man to sit down. Cole sits beside him, opens
his mouth to speak... pauses... and then nods as he decides on how to
address the situation.]

RC: Here's the thing, Chris. I'm a different breed than you, kiddo...
a different kind of warrior. I took his belt... because he didn't earn
it and I'm sick of standing by the sidelines. I'm not going to call
myself the champ, though... I'm not going to put a claim to something
I didn't earn. But I'm not going to let him reap the rewards for being
a sniveling little worm and crawling in the shadow of that kid he
manipulated...

Hartt: Wait, wait...he didn't earn t, so you took it.  Two wrongs
don't make a freakin' right!  I'm not Young's biggest fan over his
win, either!  He pulled some shady tactics and got smug afterwards
about it.  I'm upset that Foley didn't get his fair shake either,
but taking the belt so that nobody has it?!?  That really doesn't
solve anything, no matter if you call yourself "champ" or not.  It's
in the record books and only a real contest between warriors is gonna
solve it!

Cole: Look, Chris... sometimes... sometimes you take the good. You
take the bad. You take them both? And there you have... the facts of
life. The facts of life.

[Cole looks at Hartt expectantly... searching for recognition in the
Paladins' eyes, for understanding. Hartt seems just about to accept
Coles' words when something clicks. He furrows his brows, opens his
mouth, closes it... and then clears his throat.]

Hartt: Rob... Did you just quote an eighties sitcom?

[Cole furrows his brows, leaning in close.]

RC: Look here, Tootie... I took away Blair's belt for a reason. Maybe
it doesn't make much sense to you, but I have to be the voice of
reason. Gii-ii-irls! GII-ii-irls! Where is Jo, Tootie? WHERE IS
SHE?!?!?!!

[Did he just go insane? Hartt stiffens and leans back, coiled to
defend himself. Cole smiles and winks... he stands up, clapping Chris
Hartt on the back and picking the title belt off the bed. He drapes it
over the shoulder of the Paladin.]

RC: This is the Phoenix Valley Championship title. It was baptized in
blood and sweat.  You were one of the men who built this title from a
promise to a standard.... what did Brian Young do to deserve this?

[Hartt takes the belt off of his shoulder and stares at it intently,
then shoves it back at Cole, hard against his chest.]

Hartt:  Take it back.  Sometime soon, someone's gonna come looking for
this to claim it rightfully as their own.  It might even be me!

[Cut back to the studio]

JB: Hartt and Cole seem not to be on the same page... but we've got
some great wrestling action here tonight, folks...starting off with a
contest between two tough veterans... Randy Acorn and Miguel Quesada.

PW: Tough nothing...it'll take more than being given candy at a movie
theater by William Craven to top someone like Randy Acorn...and I
don't think that Cole's on the same page with anyone anymore...he's
lost it, Jack.

JB: That's entirely possible, Putter...he's been through a lot...but
for now, Let's send it down to the action...

["Smooth Operator" by Paul Wall blast over the Anaheim Convention
Center PA system.  The former WWO TV champion emerges to a nice
applause.  His hair is short, black, done up in a faux-hawk.  Quesada
has on a orange pants/tights. Down the right leg, there's a design of
a palm tree. Down the left leg, the numbers "305." All of this is
written in black. He also wears black wrestling boots, and no
shirt.]

JB: Quesada has had a rough go thus far here in the PVW.

PW: He has his big chance to right the ship here tonight if he can
pick up an upset over The Badboy.

JB: There was a lot of hope that Quesada could return to his glory
days, but thus far he has had to shake quite a bit of ring rust off.

[The guitar riff for "Cult of Personality" by Living Colour hits the
speakers. Stepping through the curtains is PVW's newest resident, "Bad
Boy" Randy Acorn. Dressed in a black t-shirt that simply reads "SSN"
across the front of it and a pair of pearl-white wrestling
trunks with matching boots, Acorn steps through the curtains and is
greeted with disdain by the fans in the crowd. Flanking Acorn on each
side are a male and female dressed in suits, looking very
"corporate".]

## Look into my eyes, what do you see? ##
## Cult of Personality ##
## I've been everything you want to be ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## Like Mussolini and Kennedy ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## Cult of Personality ##
## Cult of Personality ##

[The three of them make their way down the aisle, Acorn making
sporadic comments to ringside fans that are heckling him as he passes,
while the other two just keep their straight faces while looking
directly to the ring.]

## Neon lights, A Nobel Prize ##
## The mirror speaks, the reflection lies ##
## You don't have to follow me ##
## Only you can set me free ##
## I sell the things you need to be ##
## I'm the smiling face on your T.V. ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## I exploit you, still you love me ##
## I tell you one and one makes three ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## Like Joseph Stalin and Gandhi ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## Cult of Personality ##
## Cult of Personality ##

[Acorn and his two associates accompanying him reach ringside, as
Acorn climbs onto the ring apron and turns to the crowd, extending his
arms out drawing in their boos as if they empower him even more]

## Neon lights, A Nobel Prize ##
## A leader speaks, that leader dies ##
## You don't have to follow me ##
## Only you can set me free ##
## You gave me fortune ##
## You gave me fame ##
## You gave me power in your God's name ##
## I'm every person you need to be ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##

[After drawing in the boos, Acorn leans down with some instruction for
his associates that came with him, and then enters the ring]

PW: There is the prize of the Strickland Sports Network.

JB: SSN has coined up quite a bit of cash to bring in Randy Acorn to
boost the ratings.

PW: PVW's ratings has been climbing.

JB: We also have been expanding through out the Western coast.

PW: Randy Acorn brings expansion!


<<< DING  DING >>>


JB: There is the bell and the two veterans are set to square off.

PW: Funny Quesada is wrestling like a rookie these days.  Maybe he
should take some time off and find himself on the golf course.

[Paul Sandler has made is way down and Acorn is pointing at Sandler
and Quesada blasts him from behind  with a double axe handle.  Miguel
Quesada scoops him up and takes him down with a suplex and covers!]




ONE ...




TWO ...




JB: Quick Kick out by Acorn.

PW: What is Sandler doing down here?

JB: RJ Souza talked about some unfinished business with The Badboy.

[Quesada mounts the downed Acorn and delivers right hand after right
hand to his face, before smoothly flowing into a classic armbar. Acorn
struggles for a  moment but rolling towards Quesada turns it into a
pin.]




ONE ...




TWO ...




JB: Kick out by Quesada!

[... Quesada scores with a high knee to the gut, driving the wind out
of Acorn. Quesada grabs The Badboy by his head and yanks him backwards
across his knee for a Backbreaker.  Sandler is on the outside yelling
for him to cover, and Quesada hooks a leg...]




ONE ...




TWO ...




PW: Another Kick out by Acorn and Sandler doesn't look happy out
there.

[The action continues as Quesada locks Acorn in another armbar for a
moment  before throwing his knees into the air and landing on Acorn's
back. Quesada drags Acorn over  to the corner and mounts the second
rope. Quesada backs away and charges leaping onto his back driving
Acorn into the ropes...  The referee breaks the action and backs
Quesada away.]

JB: Look at Sandler approaching Acorn...  He is screaming that RJ
isn't done with him.

PW: Acorn is up and turns as Quesada charges....


"___THUUUUUUUD___"


[... Huge t-bone suplex counter by Acorn!]

JB: Look at Sandler he doesn't like that one bit.

PW: Acorn isn't happy at all.

[Acorn whips Quesada off the ropes and nails him with a running Knee,
followed by a quick running Legdrop and a cover!]




ONE ...





TWO ...




JB: Quesada gets a shoulder up!

PW: The Badboy has shaken the cob-webs now.

[Acorn whips Quesada off the ropes and goes for a Tilt-O-Whirl
Backbreaker, but Quesada lands on his feet. Before Quesada can hit a
move however, Acorn nailes him with an ace crusher. Acorn goes for
another whip off of the ropes, but this  time Quesada reverses
sending The Badboy flying off the ropes. Acorn ducks a Quesada
Clothesline  and on the way back blasts him with a Flying Forearm to
the face.]

JB: Acorn quick on his feet!  Quesada stumbling to his feet ...

PW: This isn't going to be good for Quesada.


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


JB: Belly-To-Back Suplex ....



"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"



JB: Followed by Belly-To-Belly!!!!  Look at Acorn flexing to the crowd
and taunting.


*HEEL POP!*


PW: Sandler isn't happy he is now yelling at Quesada calling him
worthless.

[Quesada is up... Acorn grabs him from behind.... Hangman's Neck
Breaker!]




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE ???




*POP!*




JB: Sandler just placed Quesada's foot on the ropes for him.

PW: Hrmm...

[Acorn is pointing at Sandler warning him....  Quesada from behind!!!]




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE ???




JB: NO!! SO CLOSE!!!

PW: Acorn better stop worrying about Sandler on the outside there.

JB: Both men are back up...


"___THWAAAP___"


WHOOOOOOOOOO!


"___THWAAAP___"


WHOOOOOOOOO!


JB: Quesada lighting up Acorn's chest.

[Acorn drops down to his knee's begging off Quesada as the fans go
wild for Miguel to finish him.  As Quesada goes to drill him again -
The Badboy lifts his arm up and lands a low blow...]


*BOOOOOOOOO!*


JB: Dirty tactics for Randy Acorn.

PW: Well it's not like Quesada isn't getting a little help on the
outside.

JB: Unwanted help.  Acorn with a double underhook...


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


[... DDT!  Acorn quickly back up and locks on the Newark Knife his
version of the cloverleaf submisson hold.  Quesada waving his arms and
reaching for the ropes, but he is too far away and is forced to tap
out!]

JB: Acorn wins another tough match.

[Sandler just returns back up the aisle way just shaking his head.]

-----------

[Back in the studio Jack Britton and Putter Winfield are in mid
banter.]

PW: And I'm telling you that Quesada would be fine...but as a
caddy...or lawn help.

JB: You disgust me sometimes.

PW: It's a skill.

JB: Quesada coming up short yet again Randy Acorn continues to impress
since his arrival here in PVW.

PW: The brass needs to stop holding him back...give him his just
desserts!  Why do they despise great Americans like Randy Acorn and
Gibson Haynes?

JB: You're touched, you know that, right?  Up next we have some words
from "Phenom" Tommy Ryder...

PW: Coming off a soul-crushing defeat at the hands of Rick Marley...he
should just retire and get it over with.  His ride's over.

[Cut back to ringside]

["The Phenom" Tommy Ryder and "Lady" Laurel Levinger are standing in
the middle of the ring.  Tommy is already pacing the ring, but the
crowd is also looking at the title belt around Laurel's waist.]


TR: Let's get right to the point.  Marley, you said you'd beat me and
you did.  I said you'd have to cheat to beat me and you did.  I said
you couldn't beat me if you came out there alone and you didn't.  You
made the statement that the people I've beaten so far in Phoenix
Valley Wrestling should be flipping burgers and not in a wrestling
ring.  Maybe you're right, but if that's the case then why are two of
them in the Widowmakers?


Marley, don't think that things are done between us, not by a long
shot.  You gave me my first loss.  That's right you're the first.  If
you had straight up beat me, I'd be okay with that, but you didn't!
You bring Nick Wright to the ring and if that wasn't enough
you throw salt in my eyes!  If I'm such a nobody then why can't you
just beat me on your own?  Marley, I'm not gonna cry over this.  I'm
done complaining.  I will get another chance at you and when that
happens the outcome will be different.


That's the past, NOW I need to talk about the present.  Mercenary,
tonight it's you and me.  I'll be honest when I first came to the PVW
I saw you wrestling and I was impressed.  And then, you join the
Widowmakers.  Here is the best part about our match tonight.  I'm
willing to bet that you're going to bring another Widowmaker to the
ring with you.  That's kind of the funny part isn't it?  You are more
than half a foot taller than me and out weigh me by 70 pounds, but
somebody is going to come down here to make sure that you can put me
down!  Wow, the Widowmakers sure do have a lot of faith in you.


[Ryder points to the crowd.]


TR:  You see, I've come out here week after week and told these people
that I'm for real.  That I'm here to give it my all and show them that
I can be the best!  So far I've done what I've said.  I have won and I
have shown them things that they haven't seen.  Well last time on
Heatwave I came up short.  Now I hear the questions... Is he for real?
Can he beat the top wrestlers?  Hmm, I think that The Mercenary, the
enforcer of the Widowmakers is a good test for that.


For me, this is a second chance to prove to everyone that I belong
here and that I AM for real.  For you, your boss told you to finish a
job that he didn't.  Yea, you like hurting people, but that's it.
There isn't anything really in this for you.  But for me, there is
passion and meaning in this match. I HAVE to win, losing isn't an
option here.  You will have to break me tonight to beat me Mercenary.
I know in some sick way that you're going to enjoy trying, but hear
what I'm telling you.  I WILL bring the fight of my life to the
ring with me tonight and you better be ready for it.

[At this point, Laurel takes the microphone from Tommy.]

LL: I need to get something off my chest.

[The look on "Lady" Levinger's face lets all of the fans know that she
is not enjoying the cat calls that she got for her statement.]

LL: I want to thank the Tucson Kid for trying to protect me.  But, I
don't need protecting.  I am a female wrestler, not a valet and not
some piece of eye candy.  As you can all see, I have my Women's
Championship now.  Since PVW doesn't have a women's champion, maybe
it's time that a woman stood up and let everyone know that there is a
woman that is a champion here.  I will defend my title against any
woman that wants a shot at it, and don't worry Nick Wright we'll let
you compete in the women's division since you've already shown that
you're better at attacking women than you are at fighting men.

[Tommy takes the microphone back from Laurel.]

TR: That brings us to the future... Nick Wright, of all of the
Widowmakers, you're the one that likes getting in my business the
most.  It's time for you to put up or shut up.  Tradition 2 is just
around the corner and I think it's time that you and I had a little
man-to-man.  You interfere in my matches and you even have the nerve
to try and get Laurel's attention.  I want you in a street fight!
It's time to put an end to the Nick! Are you man enough to fight me on
your own in a street fight?  I'll be waiting for your answer.

[Tommy and Laurel make their way to the back as the fans cheer Tommy
on.]

[Cut back to the studio]

PW: Yup.  He's gone retarded.

JB: Retarded nothing, Putter!  Those are some strong words from Tommy
Ryder...and he's tired of Nick Wright and the Widowmakers dictating
how their confrontations are going to go.

PW: What does he expect?  Marley, The Mercenary and The Made Men have
been a step ahead of everybody else in this place since we first saw
that spider logo...

JB: A man that's had a bit to say about that has been "No Worries" Rob
Magnum...he made the save on William Craven when "Showtime" Rick
Marley was about to take him out for good with that sledge hammer!

PW: Spoilsport.

[Cut to the match.  Big Rob Magnum rolls his neck backwards as the
sound of the bell echoes through the arena.  Standing across from hin
is "Big" Gene Gaines, but Magnum still holds 4 or so inches on
Gaines.]

JB: Rob Magnum is a named known around the globe.  He has wrestled in
some of the most famous wrestling leagues ever opened.

PW: He made a horrible career move when he stepped up against the
Widowmakers.

JB: It appears he holds some sort of connection with wrestling legend
Alex Adams.  If those two are on the same page the tides could turn
and favor the allies.

PW: Why do you call Craven and his goons the "Allies"?

JB: What else would you prefer us to call them?

PW: Two giant idiots and a few midgets?

JB: Magnum and Gaines lock up!

[Gaines quickly with an arm-wringer.  Gaines twists it again for good
measure... Magnum turns and with his massive size yanks Gaines forward
and BIG right hand...  Magnum with another!!  He sends Gaines across
and ...]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUD___"


JB: Sidewalk slam by the big guy!  Listen to these fans roar.

PW: They would cheer for a chimp he they were told too.

[Magnum yanks "Big" Gene Gaines to his feet and backs him up with a
big European uppercutt. He whips him back into the ropes and the seven
footer catches him and twists around --- ]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUD___"


JB: Powerslam!!!  This baby could be over!




ONE ...




TWO ...




PW: Not yet Jack!  Gaines with a kick out.

[Magnum quickly back to his feet....  He stands across the ring
waiting for Gaines to get to his feet and as he does he charges
landing a massive big boot tipping Gaines up and over the top ropes.]


*POP!*


JB: Magnum is walking out right behind him!  He cuts Gaines off as
makes it to his feet... DOUBLE AXE HANDLE!!!  Grabs him by the forhead
...


"___THUUUD___"


"___THUUUD___"


PW: Now that should be illeagal!

JB: Magnum slamming Gaines head into the side of the ring apron.
Magnum picks the dazed Gaines up in a firemans carry....

PW: He isn't!

JB: HE IS!!!


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


*HUGE HOLY CRAP POP!*


[... muscle buster on the outside of the ring.  "Big" Gene Gaines lays
flat laid out.  Magnum stands over Gaines with a half smile across his
face.]

PW: Gaines has to be dead.

JB: Magnum is in the right mind frame if he is to battle the
Widowmakers head on.

PW: I'd like to see Magnum get The Mercenary up in that move.

[Magnum pulls "Big" Gene Gaines up and rolls him under the ropes...
Magnum follows... He pulls Gaines to his feet and places him into a
standing crucifix ....  Magnum drives Gaines to the mat from over 7
feet in the air onto the back of his neck ...]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


*HUGE FINISHER POP!*


JB: SOUTHERN COMFORT!!!!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !!!




PW: Bah!

JB: Rob Magnum just dismantled "Big" Gene Gaines.

PW: That's what happens when you habitually use Human Growth Hormone
like he has...Magnum's head is almost as big as Barry Bonds'!

JB: Would you stop?

PW: I just call it like I see it.

JB: Moving right along, folks...we have an announcement from none
other than PVW Executive Board director Dex Willingham!

PW: I like him...he signs the checks!

[Cut to ringise as Dex Willingham emerges from the backstage area to a
pretty good pop. He has a microphone in hand and is making his way to
the ring, slapping a hand here or there. He gets to the apron and
steps through the middle ropes. He stops in the center of the ring.]

Crowd: P-V-W! P-V-W!

JB: Dex Willingham has elected to join us tonight on The Burning
Effect!

PW: Good of him to come down off his high horse.

[Willingham motions for the crowd to lower their chants for a bit,
then raises the mic.]

DW: Thank you. Thank you all. It's always good to be in the great
staight of California!

[Pop!]

DW: I've come out here tonight because there is business that has to
be taken care of. There has been a lot of talk that Caleb Foley...

[HUGE POP!]

DW: ...doesn't deserve a shot at the Heavyweight Title because of his
two past defeats. I say you have to be invited to the dance to get
turned down by the Prom Queen, and Foley has shown more than once that
not only is he worth the invitation, but is simply one good break away
from...well...getting lucky.

[Good pop as Dex smiles]

DW: It may not make Chase Williams happy. I know it won't make Brian
Young happy. But Caleb...if you could come down here please...

[All of a sudden "The Warriors Code" by The Dropkick Murphy's plays
over the PA. as the arena fills with cheers.]

You're the fighter you've got the fire
The spirit of a warrior, the champion's heart
You fight for your life because the fighter never quits
You make the most of the hand you're dealt
Because the quitter never wins
No!

[The lights begin to flicker and the camera zooms into the entrance
way but "The Fighting Irishman" Caleb Foley isn't there. The crowd
begins to stir as the camera does a complete 360 and is now zooming in
on the crowd and you see the fan favorite "The Fighting Irishman"
Caleb sitting in the very front row. Caleb stands up and just stands
up and points to the heavens. He has his red hair buzzcut and an eager
look on his face. Dressed in all black, from the kickpads to the boots
and the jacket itself, Caleb stands up and just stares into the ring.
Foley looking completely focused right now.]

You were born to box in a city that's seen their share
Mello, Ryan, Carney, among them your photo proudly hangs there
Above the bar in the Gaelic Club
They tell the story of a throwback
With the heart of a lion
They salute your glory

[Caleb has now made it to the ring barricade. Foley is not taking his
eyes off the ring looking completely focused for what Dex Willingham
has to tell him...]

It's another murderous right
Another left hook from hell
A bloody war on the boardwalk
And the kid from Lowell rises to the bell

[Foley then leaps over the barricade and begins to walk towards the
ring. Foley slides in the ring and climbs the turnbuckle. Foley then
raises both his arms over his head as the crowd cheers him on. Foley
just stands on the top ropes and points to the sky and then blesses
himself before hoping off the turnbuckle. Caleb walks over to Dex and
they shake hands...]

[CROWD POPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

DW: I called you out here today, Caleb, to inform you to not be
worried about your standing in PVW. To not be concerned that I am
overlooking your abilities. You are still a top contender here, and
you will be getting a title shot again...

[Caleb expressions hasn't changed one bit. You would expect Caleb to
be jumping for joy but he is just has this plan look on his face.]

Caleb Foley: First of all Dex I wanna say thanks for allowing me all
those great opportunities. I am really enjoying myself here in Phoenix
Valley Wrestling. But let's get down to business everyone wants to
know when am I getting my shot at Young? I mean after all, do you want
the PVW to have a champion who used the ropes to win a title...

DW: Well Caleb ...

["Knockin' on Heaven's Door" by Guns N Roses begins to a huge heel
pop. Will Geddings emerges from backstage in a t-shirt and a pair of
jeans. He has a microphone in his hand and at the ready.]

Geds: Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA. I'm sorry, Dex, I really am. I'm not a
scholar. I haven't gone to the Oxfords, the Harvards, the University
of South Carolinas of the world so maybe this is simply my lack of
learning coming through. But how is it that Caleb Foley...he who
has lost and lost and lost and lost and lost...how is it that he gets
-another- title shot.

[Geddings paces on the ramp.]

Geds: Now, I guess I can see the appeal of having a 19 year old
champion. After all, I was one myself. I cannot and will not blame PVW
for wanting to recreate my origins...for wanting to create...(pointing
at Foley)...a new FlyKing.

[Heel pop!]

Geds: But let's put this in perspective, Dexy. He keeps losing. Loss
after loss after loss after loss. I'm not even sure he's won a match,
mon ami. And then you have Will Geddings.

How many times have I been pinned, Dex? How many times have I
submitted. Ropes, no ropes, doesn't matter. I am undefeated...

PW: He's right, you know.

Geds: So let me paint you a picture. We've got Will Geddings. The
Return of the FlyKing. We have the innovation, not the imitation...and
then we have Brian Young. The One. You're aware of the history, right
Dex? Right Caleb? His brother and I go way back. In fact...and
you can appreciate the value of this, Caleb...

[Geddings smiles]

Geds: He's like family to me. Do you have any idea what it's like to
be unable to see members of your family, Caleb? To not get to hear
their voice. Not like this. Not like this...so Dex...do the right
thing. Give -me- the title shot.

[Heel pop!!!]

DW: Well, Will...

[Caleb interrupts, causing a look of frustration to come over the face
of Dex Willingham]

Caleb Foley: Will so your saying that I am nothing but a snot nose
rookie right? That I don't deserve another shot. So you think the only
reason I am getting all these shots is because Dex feels sorry for me.
You think the only reason I keep getting these shots is because these
fans chant my name...

FOLEY FOLEY FOLEY

FOLEY FOLEY FOLEY

FOLEY FOLEY FOLEY

Caleb Foley: Will if you don't like the decision Mr. Willingham is
making then we can settle this right here and right now. All you have
to do is walk down the entrance ramp ... Walk up the ring steps or
slide in the ring ... I can ask the wonderful Herk Douglas to
ring the bell ... and we can see who is really next in line for a
World Title Shot. So what do you say Will?

[Geddings smirks and looks around as the crowd pops their approval.]

Geds: Maybe you're not understanding exactly what I'm saying here,
Foley. Maybe it's lost on you. Maybe you're still in mourning, I don't
know. I don't care. Why should I walk up those rings steps? Why should
I slide into the ring? I have nothing to prove, mon ami.

[Heel pop]

Geds: I'm not pushing for some sort of long series of matches with
you, Caleb, because you're not worth it. You've had your shot. Twice.
And you've failed miserably. Twice. Step aside. Chris Hartt is always
looking for someone to fight over his mid-card belt.

[Geddings drops the mic to a huge heel pop]

DW: HOLD ON!

[Face pop as Geddings turns around quickly.]

DW: Now you two are going to hear me out. You think you deserve a
title shot, Geddings? And Foley here, he thinks he deserves one too.
And I think one of you probably has a greater claim than the other.

JB: Foley.

PW: Geddings.

DW: So here's what we're going to do. At Boiling Point...it will be
"The Fighting Irishman" Caleb Foley...

[Huge face pop!]

DW: versus "The FlyKing" Will Geddings...

[Huge heel pop!]

DW: And what's going to happen is this. Whoever wins this match may
not receive a title shot the next night. They may not even receive a
title shot the next cycle. But what they will receive is a title shot
before the loser of that match receives ones...

[Foley claps his hands as Geddings begins to yell "You can't do that!"
at the ring as the crowd roars in approval.]

DW: You two play nice, now...

[Dex drops the microphone and starts to head to the back as the camer
cuts back to the studio.]

JB: Huge announcement from Dex Willingham...

PW: Who, I would like to say, has always been my favorite
Willingham...

JB: Caleb Foley and Will Geddings are going to see which one of them
can serve as a road-block for the other, Putter...

PW: You mean the Flyking will show everyone that Foley needs to crawl
back under a Guinness.

JB: Foley's an impressive young athlete...and a lot more stable than
The Storyteller...

PW: This guy just creeps me out.  I'd rather play the back nine during
a thunderstorm than be in a room with him for a minute.

JB: And he's in action...

[Cut to the match.  The six foot ten monster is let out of the
straight jacket.  Standing across from his is renowned journeyman,
Masked Maniac.  He gives a small wave and is quickly cut off and
driven into the corner with a rush of punches and elbows.]

JB: Fans we don't know what to really expect from this guy.  Last week
he showed up out of nowhere and attacked Jaiden Andrews.

PW: He did us all a favor.


*HEEL POP*


JB: GOOD LORD!

[Storyteller had Masked Maniac backed into the corner and he began
clawing away at Maskd Maniac's eye sockets in the mask!  Referee Jay
O'Riley is hesitant to get invovled, but thankfully for Masked Maniac
sake the Orderlies on the outside were able to convince me off the
masked superstar....while at the top of the aisle, The Spectre enters
the arena.]

PW: Masked Maniac is lucky that those Orderlies are on the outside.

JB: I'm not sure it's safe for this guy to be on the PVW roster...and
it just got MORE dangerous.  What's Spectre doing down here.

PW: Well...SSN will be happy he should bring quite a few viewers.  You
never know what this freak will do week to week.  Maybe Spectre came
out to see for himself.  Who knows what the voiced in his head tell
him to do?

JB: It's only a matter of time until he runs into the likes of Rob
Cole, The Spectre, or William Craven in the ring.

PW: I'm not sure even Craven or Cole want anything to do with this
monster!  But Spectre seems to be moving towards the ring...

[Masked Maniac stops rubbing his eyes and goes to lock up with the
monster, but recieves a brutal knee strike.   The Storyteller whips
Maniac into the corner ...]


"___THUUUUD___"


JB: Yeesh did you hear the sound from the impact of that Irish whip!?!

[Maniac stumbles out holding his back and The Storyteller lifts him
right up into a gorilla press....]


"___THUUUUUUD___"


PW: Look at the strength of The Storyteller!

JB: This guy isn't right in the head, but he is a walking destruction
machine inside the ring.

PW: He wasn't signed to a _wrestling_ contract to think.

[The Storyteller mounts ontop of The Masked Maniac... He beginds to
drive down forearm strikes, elbow strikes, and yanks The Maniac up and
drives his thick skull right into the Masked Maniac's skull.  The
Storyteller then wraps his hands around Maniac's throat and begins
choking him!]

JB: He is choking the Masked Maniac now!!!  Referee Jay O'Riley is
counting.

PW: Would you disqualify this guy?

One ...


Two ...


Three ...


Four ...


Five ---


[The Storyteller let's go and leaps up glaring at referee Jay O'Riley.
The fans boo as The Story Teller stands towering over the near
lifeless Masked Maniac.  He turns and yanks him up and lifts him up in
a two-handed Sit Out Chokeslam --- ]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


JB: The Fall of the Antagonist!

PW: This has to be over.




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !!!




JB: What a dominating performance by The Storyteller.  Folks this guy
is bizare and I just don't know what to really say.

PW: Just smile and clap Jack.

[The Storyteller stands up as the Orderlies rush in with electric
shock sticks...]


"___ZAAAAP___"


"___ZAAAAP___"


"___ZAAAAP___"


JB: Those Orderlies getting control of The Storyteller and placing him
back in that straight jacket. They use him like a wild beast.

PW: Hey they gotta eat some how.

[Spectre applauds quietly from the middle of the ailse as the
Orderlies nervously glance towards the goth madman...and watch in
relief as he turns and heads towards the back once again as the camera
cuts back to the studio.]

JB: Storyteller with a dominating victory, but now some questions as
The Spectre seems to have taken an interst in PVW's newest maniac.

PW: Maybe he feels like Storyteller is hitting too close to home?

JB: I wouldn't want to hazard a guess.  Next up we've got tag team
action as the newly signed Team Canada takes on PVW's own attorneys:
Livestock & Gutch.

PW: 'Bout time they got put in an actual tag match...even if
Livestock's brains are a bit soft after being repeatedly hit in the
head for the past month.

JB: Word is that the more atheletic of the two is sufferning the
effects of post-concussion syndrome.  It's questionable as to whether
he should be out there at all, Putter.

PW: If he ends up brain damaged, that'll just make him on an evel keel
with half of the locker room...not a big deal.

JB: Let's go back to ringside...

[cut back to the arena, where music kicks in over the PA system]

#There I was completely wasting, out of work and down,#

["Breaking the Law" by Judas Priest plays, and with no lighting
effects, no fanfare, just the words "Livestock and the Gutch" on the
PVW video screen, a big, strong man in slacks and dress shoes comes
out of the entrance portal, his head bandaged lightly with just a
small spot of blood poking through.]

#Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die,#

[Following comes a fat guy in a similar suit.  Bringing up the rear
comes a bearded, redheaded stepchild of a middle-aged man in a
neckbrace.]

#so I might as well begin to put some action in my life#
#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#

HD: Accompanied to the ring by Broderick Ezekiel Craven...  Weighing
in tonight at a combined weight of 675 pounds.  This is Livestock and
the Gutch!

[Grabbing Livestock by the collar with a fat fist, Gutch makes sure
that his partner makes it into the ring before "If You Want Blood, You
Got It" by AC/DC begins to play over the speaker as Team Canada makes
their way to the ring. Coach Grapes Gilmour leads the way carrying a
hockey stick and jawing with the ringside fans. Hextall and Jablonski
smile and slap hands with the cheering fans lining the aisle as they
make their way towards the ring wearing hockey gloves, which they drop
when they enter the ring in the same style hockey players drop their
gloves before a fight.]

PW: It looks like they're ready to take a slapshot at the basket, huh
Jack.

JB: Net, Putter...Jabolonski and Hextall are well traveled veterans
who are just flat out dangerous in that ring, Putter...

PW: Dangerous is what Livestock and Gutch...what the hell is Livestock
doing?

[Livestock is currently moving his hand back and forth in front of his
face while staring at the lights with what can only be described as
rapt attention.]

JB: He appears to be...you know what, I'm not honestly sure.

[Gutch grabs his partner as Zeke's insistence and puts him in their
corner as the referee eyes Livestock up suspiciously.]

JB: I'll tell you what, if they're not careful, they may get this
match thrown out before it starts, Putter.  If the referee doesn't
think Livestock can compete, it's his duty to kill this thing.

PW: He needs to suck it up like Tiger...that man played an entire
tournament with a blown out knee...and won.  I'm so sick of these
coddled wrestlers pretending that their bruises are career
threatening.

JB: And on that...intersting bit of commentary, there's the bell.
Gutch and Hextall are starting off for their respective teams.

PW: Good thing...Livestock just sat down and is talking to the
timekeeper with a dazed smile on his face!

[Gutch and Hextall lock up with Gutch using his superior size to push
the Canadian into the corner.  As the referee calls for a break, Gutch
slaps Hextall in the chest with his meaty hand.]

PW: That move would probably work better if Hextall weren't wearing
that hockey shirt.

JB: They call it a jersey, Putter.

PW: Jersey?  No wonder no one watches that sport!  No one wants to be
reminded of New Jersey!

JB: It's really only a matter of time till we get sued...

[Hextall storms out of the corner and fires a rapid series of rights
to the side of Gutch's head that daze the big man, rocking him back on
his feet then heading to the ropes and taking him down with a big
jumping hip block.]

JB: BIG hipcheck by Hextall sends Gutch to the ground...and the wiley
Canadian veteran is quickly over to make the tag to Jablonski.

PW: So...I was right.  All hockey players basically ARE Happy
Gilmore...

[Jablonski is over quickly as both Team Canada members grab a beefy
leg on Gutch and make a wish.  Jablonski drops an elbow into the
lawyer's blubber then goes for a quick cover...]




ONE ...




JB: NO!  Strong kickout by Gutch.

PW: The guy hasn't wrestled since Bush's first term...he's got plenty
left in the tank.

[Jablonski pulls Gutch back up to his feet, only to have the sneaky
lawyer counter with a jawbreaker on the Canuck.  As he staggers back,
Gutch stumbles and tags Livestock on the back...]

JB: Livestock has gotten the tag...and...

PW: Seems to be eating popcorn and looking up at the lights again!

JB: Not if Jablonski has anything to say about that!

[Jablonski grabs Livestock by his hair and pulls him to his feet, and
brings him into the ring the hard way with a big vertical suplex.
Jablonski is up quickly putting the boots to the dazed Livestock as
Zeke Craven screams for him to do...something...anything.  Jablonski
hoists Livestock back up to his feet again and lets go, heading
towards the ropes and going for a big shoulder check...only to miss as
Livestock staggers and falls on his own!]

JB: I think it's obvious that Livestock Zappa has no business being in
a wrestling ring at this time...he could be severly hurt, Putter!

PW: For once I agree with you.  This is one of the finest legal minds
in the world!  Don't let the sun go down on him!

JB: For future reference, we try to avoid Elton John references on
broadcasts...it's not very manly.

[Gutch is pounding on the top turnbuckle as Livestock comes to his
feet...and waves at his partner, smiling happily before stumbling
towards him...Jablonski catches up with a running forearm to the back
of the head that sends Livestock staggering into his partner...which
constitutes a tag.  Gutch comes into the ring and starts trading
punches with Jablonski, who starts to fall back under the fat man's
onslaught.]

JB: Gutch is in and he's on fire...big right hands driving Jablonski
back towards the ropes...and and Irish Whip...and a big clothesline
floors the canadian!  Gutch waddles over as quickly as he can as
Jablonski is coming to his feet!

PW: He isn't going to win any foot races, that's for sure.

JB: And Gutch grabs him and locks in a rib-crushing bearhug!

[Gutch whips Jabolonski back and forth, crushing the smaller man
against his ample gut. Sadly, he fails to see Hextall enter the ring
and come rushing from behind, hitting a running forearm smash that
breaks the hold.]

JB: Hextall with the save as the official chases him off...but he
bought Jablonski some much needed space!

PW: Gutch is in a handicap match.

JB: Because his partner's injury has made it two on one...I agree.

PW: No...I meant that Livestock is retarded right now...look at him.

[Livestock is currently absent-mindedly chewing on the turnbuckle from
the outside as Jablonski makes a tag to Hextall who quickly moves back
towards Gutch with his partner. Both men lock on a front chancery and
lift...]


*BOOOM!*


JB: OH MY WORD!  Team Canada just his a double brain buster on Gutch,
and the big man is down!

PW: And I think they left a hole in the mat.

JB: Hextall with the cover!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE ???





JB: NO!  Zeke Craven quickly came over and put his client's foot on
the ropes!  He just stole one from Team Canada, and Grapes Gilmore
doesn't look happy!

PW: He's a lot bigger than Zeke too...

[Gilmore stalks towards Zeke, who backs up, pointing as his neck brace
and yelling to the official in the ring, who turns his back on the
action to try to keep the two managers from killing each other...which
gives just the opening that Zeke was hoping for.]

PW: An albino man just hopped the rail with a chair in hand and pulled
Jablonski off of the apron, hitting his head on the way down...with a
chair shot added for good measure!


JB: That's Vandal Gomez!  Hextall turns and rushes...AND CATCHES A
FIREBALL WITH HIS FACE!  Gomez with that steel chair and rolls Gutch
on top of him!

PW: GENIUS!

JB: The official turns, but Gomez had bailed out, and he only sees the
carnage behind him...




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !!!




DING DING DING

[Cut to]


------------------------------------

Courtesy of www.theworldwillbleed.com



                    ???
------------------------------------

[Black.]

V/O: Sinners, gather 'round....

[This handheld camera has a very distinct style as it turns on.  The
picture quality is not one you would be too proud of, but still good
enough to pass for a YouTube video.]

V/O: ...for judgment is at hand.

[The shaky camera holds its picture long enough to see a gathered
crowd look up at an African-American man wearing a black jacket from
the back.  The man's hair is somewhat grayed and balding, showing
signs of age.  In his hands he holds the Bible and points it up to the
cloudless sky.]

PREACHER: I bring a warning, a warning that I have seen with my own
two eyes about the end of things.  _He_ is getting close, so close
now, soon you too will be confronted with him face to face with the
dark man.

[Slowly he begins to turn towards the camera, continuing to point to
each of the people who have gathered.]

PREACHER: There are no limits, there are no rules... and the dark man
will show no remorse!  The Beast is set loose is Bethlehem and there
are rats amongst the corn.

[The man holds the good book with both hands and slowly turns towards
the shaky camera.]

PREACHER: Things fall apart, the center cannot hold...

[For the first time the camera picks up the man's profile.]

PREACHER: Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

[His head snaps to the left suddenly and his vacant, blind white eyes
look directly into the camera.]

PREACHER: For he will make the world... bleed.

[End.]


JB: Team Canada's debut was spoiled by the unexpected appearance of
Vandal Gomez...now we need to find out what the pyromaniac albino has
to do with Zeke Craven!

PW: Maybe he's being proactive...pyro's need good lawyers, after
all...

JB: For our main event, "Phenom" Tommy Ryder's war against Widowmakers
Inc. continues as the New Breed member takes on WMI's enforcer, The
Mercenary.

PW: I hope Ryder made funeral arrangements...

[Cut to ringside]

["Obsession" by  Animotion blasts over the PA system as "Lady" Laurel
Levinger walks down to ringside to present Tommy, posing with one arm
pointing to the entrance and the other in the air.]

PW: I think I'm in love.

JB: I may be sick...and between Tommy Ryder and Nick Wright, I think
the lady's spoken for, Putter.

[The music changes to Headstrong by Trapt...   Tommy comes out when he
hears "Back off..." in his music.  Trotting to the ring, he pumps his
arms and shakes hands with as many of the fans as he can reach.]

[The sounds of approaching helicopters comes over the PA system. They
get louder and louder getting almost deafening, and then get quieter,
as if they were passing overhead. Just as they fade away to nothing,
machine gun bursts take their place. A few seconds later, a whistling
sound is heard, and then 4 large explosions rock the arena, one right
after the other. A large smoke screen engulfs the entranceway,
blocking it off from view. Just as the smoke reaches its maximum
density, "Die Hard the Hunter" by Def Leppard comes blasting out
through the sound system.

A pair of figures can then be seen making their way through the smoke.
They comes to the edge of the entrance way, where they can be plainly
seen, and stop to look over the crowd, soaking in their reaction.
Getting their fill, they makes their way down to the ring, ignoring
the fans that reach out to , focussed totally on the task at hand.
Merc slowly climbs the ring steps and gets into the ring, soaking in
the boos from the crowd as Mark Masterson stands at ringside, Merc's
Haliburton in hand.]

JB: Laurel is jawing at Masterson from across the ring, asking where
his running buddy is...

PW: Right...from WAY across the ring.

JB: And Merc seems to be telling Ryder about how badly he's about to
get hurt...

DING DING

[Ryder charges across the ring and hits a baseball slide dropkick to
the left knee of The Mercenary, staggering the much bigger man, who
reaches down to the canvas to steady himself before grabbing Ryder by
the trunks...]

JB: Ryder starting things off quickly with that dropkick, but Merc
grabbed on...and now starts to fire those big left hands into Ryder's
face while the Phenom is stuck on the mat

PW: Well...Merc kept calling him a bug.  It looks like he's gonna just
try to squash him.

[Ryder starts firing back at Merc, but the bigger man keeps on top of
him, standing up and pulling The Phenom to his feet, and immediately
punting him full in the crotch, dropping Ryder to the canvas.]

JB: THAT WAS JUST UNCALLED FOR!

PW: Laurel's in for a slow night...

JB: Merc getting a stern warning from the official, who he seems to be
compeltely ignoring as he walks over and starts putting the boots to
Tommy Ryder, grinding the bottom of that big combat boot into his
face!

PW: It's gonna be tough to pick the bits of Ryder out of the tread
when Merc's finished with him.

[Merc once again picks Ryder up, this time unceremoniously shoving him
into the corner. Ryder tries to fight back, throwing a punch, but Merc
ignores it and responds with three of his own, rocking Ryder
back...and follows up with a big open handed slap to the face that
staggers Ryder out of the corner leaning on the ropes.]

PW: That'll loosen some teeth!  I think Merc may have worked as a pimp
at one point.

JB: Lots of pimps on the golf courses, are there?

PW: Only the public ones.

[Ryder stops and dives backwards, his elbow connectint solidly with
Merc's face and staggering the Widowmaker back into the corner Ryder
vacated.  Tommy staggers to his feet and grabs Merc's left leg and
twists, bringing Merc crashing to the canvas with a leg whip
takedown.]

JB: Ryder is trying to maximize his speed advantage by taking away The
Mercenary's left
leg.

PW: That's the exact thing that Rick Marley did to him last
week...just getting whupped by a great athlete like Marley was enough
to make Ryder a better person.  I'll be he's even smarter now!

[Ryder is quickly up to his feet, punting Mercenary on the side of the
head and then attempting a victory roll for a quick cover...but Merc
proves too strong to move and Ryder is forced to come back to his
feet, face to face with an irritated Mercenary.]

PW: Or not.

[Merc goes for a collar and elbow tie up, but Ryder ducks under with a
go behind, Merc catches Ryder with a back elbow that staggers the
smaller man, then turns and lunges, hitting a falling clothesline that
sends both men down, after which Merc simply reaches over and grabs
Ryder's throat with both hands and begins to choke the life out of
him.]

JB: Ref, you've got to do something about this!  DQ him!

PW: He has a five count...you can't take what the Widowmakers do so
personally...

JB: Why not?

PW: Rumor is that they know where we both live.

JB: ...

PW: Exactly.

[Merc releases the choke at 4 1/2...only to stand up with Ryder and
plant him back down with a quick snap suplex.  Standing, Merc grabs
Ryder's leg and drags him to the ropes, where he stands on top of the
high flier, leaning over the ropes, grabbing the 2nd rope and pulling
up to increase the pressure.]

JB: Mercenary with yet ANOTHER short cut!

PW: And if you think this one's bad, he just pulled him towards Mark
Masterson.

JB: Merc steps off of Ryder as the official once again admonishes him,
allowing Masterson to move in and start contemptuously slapping Ryder
across the face!  There's no call for this!

PW: Except that none of Widowmakers Inc. has an ounce of respect for
Tommy Ryder...

JB: Ryder has more heart than any of of those jackals.

PW: It'll take more than an enlarged heart to win against someone like
The Mercenary.  Some offensive moves would be a great start...

[Ryder rolls over into the center of the ring and away from danger as
Merc moves towards him once again and pulls him up to his feet.  Merc
hooks Ryder's head between his legs and  hoists him up for a
powerbomb, but Ryder quickly shifts in mid air, grabbing Merc's head
and nailing a sit down facebuster that leaves both men on the mat.]

JB: WHAT A COUNTER BY TOMMY RYDER!  The Mercenary looked to have this
match completely under control, but Ryder just bought himself a chance
to win it!

PW: Or to extend his suffering...he should know when the golf gods
have said it's not gonna happen and just retire.

JB: From the match?

PW: No, the sport.  It'll NEVER happen.

[Ryder and Merc both begin to stir Tommy with a kick in the gut, and
goes off the ropes with a spinning heel kick, but Merc catches him.
Before the Merc can react Tommy brings his other left up to catch him
with an enzuigiri style kick to the face, dropping Merc back down to
the canvas.  Tommy is back up quickly with a flipping splash across
the legs of Merc.]

JB: What an athletic move from Ryder!


PW: He's just on fire here...but Merc'll but him out soon.

[Ryder heads for the ropes with a head of steam and as he rebounds off
the ropes, only to get tripped up by Mark Masterson.]

PW: Told you.  Membership has it's privledges.

JB: They're just a pack of jackals, Putter.

PW: Better to be the jackal than the animal that they're hunting.

[Merc slowly comes to his feet, irritation clear on his features as he
stomps HARD on the back of Ryder's head repeatedly, picking him up and
drilling him with a sit down piledriver.]

JB: Mercenary just folded Ryder up like a damned accordian!

PW: I think the kid's dead.  Seriously.

JB: If not, he may be soon.  Merc doesn't look interested in covering
him.

[Mercenary simply stands up, putting a finger to the side of his left
nostril and blows snot all over the downed Tommy Ryder...then does the
same thing with the other nostril.  Seemingly content with his now-
clear nasal passages, he drops an elbow across Ryder's back...then
follows up with a jumping kneedrop that leaves Tommy squirming in
pain.]

JB: Things are really starting to get ugly for Ryder in there, Putter.
Merc's brutal style is just wearing the high flier down, and each and
every one of those moves is taking a heavy toll out of him.

PW: I think his account is just about empty.

[Merc stands once again, and pulls Ryder up to his feet, then hoists
him up and places him on the top turnbuckle, facing out.]

JB: Oh no...looks like he's setting up for The Enema

PW: Laurel's REALLY not gonna like this...

[Merc grabs Ryder and lifts, but The Phenom squirms free, flipping
back off of Merc and landing on his feet as Merc hops down off the
turnbuckle.]

PW: Ryder just saved his own --

JB: RECORD...he saved his own record with that match.  He moves in
towards Merc and hops up for a standing hurricanrana...NO!

PW: Instead he gets planted like a lawn dart.

[Ryder is back first on the mat once again as Merc countered with a
sit down powerbomb that shook the mat.  The Widowmaker stands back up
placing Ryder up on his shoulders and falling backwards with a
punishing Samoan Drop.  Meanwhile Nick "Always" Wright comes to
ringside,  attracting a fresh cascade of boos from the crowd.  The
Made Man has a trashcan in hand and his gaze is focused firmly on
Laurel, who holds a baseball bat in her right hand like she's
been taking lessons from Josh Hamilton.]

JB: What's Nick Wright doing down here?

PW: He's answering Laurels' siren call, Jacky boy.  It's love!  Who
can say no to love?

JB: Other than Laurel?

PW: Exactly.  He loves it when they play hard to get...or concussed.
Either way...

[With Masterson on one side and Wright on the other, Laurel looks to
be in a heap of trouble...until Wright reaches into the trash can and
pulls out a bouquet of long stemmed red roses and  heart shaped box of
chocolates, which he hands to a stunned Laurel before nodding with a
smile and heading back up the ramp to the back...]

JB: ...I'm speechless.  Putter?

PW: I've got nothing...and it seems Masterson's right there with both
of us.

[Masterson stands with his hands on his hips, staring at his partner
as he leaves the ring area...while in the ring, Merc picks up Ryder on
his shoulder and tells him "Time to fly,  little bug" and tosses him
in a heap over the top rope to the floor below...and then rolling
out of the ring to follow him.  The referee starts his count.]

JB: Merc follows the unceremoniously evicted Tommy Ryder out to the
floor...and proceeds to send him crashing hard into the railing...then
he threatens Laurel, who wisely stops trying to sneak up behind him
with that bat.

PW: Some guys won't hit a woman. Merc would shoot a nun.

[Merc stalks over to Ryder as the ref his five on the count, bends
down and puts Ryder's head between his legs, grabbing him and pointing
the guardrail with an evil smile.  Shouting  "Say good bye, little
bug." and hoisting him up, he attempts to powerbomb Ryder neck first
across the unyielding steel...]

JB: HURRICANRANA FROM RYDER!  TOMMY REVERSED THAT CAREER THREATING
POWERBOMB AND NAILED A RANA OUT OF NOWHERE!

PW: NO!  He cheated!  He pulled Merc's hair!

JB: The official's count is on 8...Ryder slides into the ring...

PW: HURRY, MERC!

JB: 9 and Merc is up and trying to get into the ring, but Laurel has
wrapped herself around his right leg and he can't quite get under the
bottom rope!

PW: SHE'S CHEATING!  THIS IS A TRAVESTY!

JB: 10!

DING DING DING!

[Laurel releases Merc's leg and runs the other way as Merc glares a
hole in Ryder, who stands with his hand raised smirking at Merc...only
to have the back of his skull nailed by Merc's Haliburton weilded by
Mark Masterson.]

JB: NO!  Just as Tommy was celebrating his win, Widowmakers
Incorporated have to come in and ruin it for him!

PW: He knew what he was doing when he cheated...

JB: He didn't know Laurel had Mercenary's leg!

PW: I meant winning.

[Merc and Masterson lay the boots to Ryder, who simply tries to cover
up after the brutal match he had already.  Merc motions for Masterson
to prop Ryder up in the corner and hold up the Haliburton in front of
his face...then drives it home with a stiff Yakuza kick that sends
Ryder to the mat.]

JB: These two animals are taking Tommy Ryder apart, and there's no
call for it!  Now Merc is setting up that Haliburton on the mat
and...oh no!

PW: He's calling for The Payoff!

JB: This brainbuster onto that damned steel case has ended more
careers than I can think of off the top of my head!

PW: No great loss.

JB: WAIT!  ROB MAGNUM IS HERE!  THE BIG MAN IS RUMBLING DOWN THE AISLE
WITH A CHAIR IN HAND AS MERC AND MASTERSON BOTH EXIT THE RING WITH
SMILES ON THEIR FACES!

PW: Their work is over...message sent.

JB: You can sure as hell bet that this isn't over between the PVW
Allies and Widowmakers Inc.

PW: I'm guessing that WMI wouldn't have it any other way...

JB: Well...I'm getting word that that's a wrap for this week folks.
Please tune into CWA's Summer Showdown PPV, featuring a PVW match: The
Spectre v. William Craven, Rebirth Rules!

PW: Rebirth Rules?

JB: That's what it says...No DQ, No Countout, No Ropebreaks...it
should be an absolute gore fest!  For Preston "Putter" Winfield, this
is Jack Britain signing off!