BOB Presents: As A Result Of Burnout, Vol. 6!

This isn't our show....Well, it is NOW!

[A graphic appears on the screen. It looks exactly like those two sentences up there. Confused? You're supposed to be you. After all, you're drunk. And this is just a very bad dream. Plus, it beats a Best Of show. Too much editing and research for that. So, BOB proudly presents a federation that could just as easily be BOB's second cousin three times removed. Independent Spirit Wrestling. Enjoy.]

[We’re not waiting a single damn minute to kick off the show. The crowd in Castillo’s Bar & Grill are jam packed and probably going over the maximum capacity limit. The eight college guys, along with about fifty of their friends and/or girlfriends, are all amassed in one group on one side of the ring. In the back, as usual, are the four old, former military guys, as well as some of their respective grandchildren. Above the ring, there’s an open area in the ceiling that allows the people on the second floor to look down and watch. That open area above is a little wider than the ring itself and the space between the top rope and the bottom of the ceiling is about ten feet.

But enough with the exposition. Let’s get to the good stuff.

Eric "The Eric" Eric, the ISW ring announcer, time keeper, and gopher extraordinaire, stands up from the time keeper’s table with his clipboard in hand. This is unusual sight since Jon Rose is the one normally carrying the said clipboard.]

All 50 College Guys: ER-IC! ER-IC!

[Triple E climbs into the ring with nary a smile on his face for a change. Somewhere in the crowd, Eric’s fellow members of Smiles Lost Anonymous carry a worried face on them. While distracted by the clipboard, he nearly forgets that he has a microphone tucked under his arm, the cord still dangling behind him. The cord itself leads back to the time keeper’s table where an incredibly basic sound system lies.]

Jack: Soooo, are we starting?

Johnny: Dunno, he’s just standing there.

[Indeed, Eric is still concentrating as hard as he can on the contents of the clipboard. He raises an arm to wipe his nose, which causes the microphone to fall out of the tucked contents of his appendage. How’s THAT for some poetic exposition?]

EEE: Oh, whoops.

[Triple E quickly bends down and scoops the microphone up with his free hand. Still bending down, he finally looks up at the audience.]

Toasty: That’s right; you’re in the ring, Eric!

EEE: Um, right.

Girl in Crowd behind Eric #1: Nice butt, though!

Girl #2: Yeah, it looks like a couple of eggs wrapped in a napkin!

[The Girl #1 elbows her friend as Eric stands back up and holds the microphone up to his mouth.]

EEE: [Sombre and nervous voice.] Um, ladies and gentlemen; before we start tonight, I’d like to announce that Independent Spirit Wrestling owner, Jon Rose, will not be here tonight.

Zach: What?!

Mikey: …the hell!?

Toasty: That sucks!

EEE: Um, due to his neck injury being re-aggravated from the chair shot two weeks ago, Rose has been told by doctors not to leave the hospital bed under any circumstances.

Mikey: That damn Sherrick!

Zach: Kill him!!

[Eric lets the crowd get into a small frenzy for a moment or two before continuing on.]

EEE: Mister Rose has given me specific orders that with him out of commission…

[Triple E pauses for dramatic effect.]

EEE: …that the show must go on. And he’s given _me_ full authority! Consider me to be the Commissioner of Many E’s!

[All of the patrons of Castillo’s go into a harmonious frenzy as their beloved gopher and Smiles Lost Anonymous member is now in a temporary seat of full power!]

EEE: [Smiling a little bit due to the excitement of wrestling.] And now, we’re gonna kick things off right. Let’s get started with the first match of the night!

Crowd: YEAH!!!!

Exhibition Match
Thorin Stonehand vs. M*A*S*H
Referee: Tony Castillo
Written by: Nick Piers

EEE: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and has a fifteen minute time limit.

Mikey: Time limit?

Zach: We have those?

EEE: We always did, but the guys have been getting tougher lately.

Mikey: Cool.

["The Theme from MASH" by Manic Street Preachers starts up. The crowd stands to their feet to get a good look at the seven foot cross dresser as M*A*S*H steps out through the doors of the men’s bathroom. Tonight, he wears a long flowing silver gown with white sparkles spattered all over it. Upon his brow is a necklace that looks like a very loose tiara.]

MASH: [Wispy voice.] What pretty little hobbits you all are...

Jack: Oh dear god, he’s…

Johnny: Galandriel from Lord of the Rings!

Steve: Who?

[All of Steve’s seven friends look at him with a look like he has two heads.]

Steve: Okay, so I haven’t seen the movies yet!

Toasty: Leave it to an elf to try and take down a dwarf, I guess?

[Suddenly, MASH suddenly reels forward due to a huge clothesline from behind! Thorin Stonehand stands defiantly after rushing down the steps from somewhere upstairs in Castillo’s Bar & Grill! MASH stays on his feet but stumbles forward a few feet towards the ring.]

TS: Ach, yer makin’ for an ugly elf, ya soddin’ ninny!

[Thorin grabs MASH by the back of the dress and by his black hair and tosses him into the ring. Eric dives through the top and middle rope.]

EEE: The hell with this! You know who these guys are!

[The crowd bursts into laughter as Eric darts back to the ring announcer’s table. Thorin Stonehand, in the meantime, rolls under the bottom rope and into the ring as MASH is getting to his feet.]

MASH: [Wispy voice.] Good dwarf, I’ve done nothing to you but show you…

Crowd: (With the help of college guy, Toasty): YOUR BACK HAIR!!!!
Brian: The horror!!

[Thorin, not saying another damn thing, waylays MASH in the gut with a massive boot! MASH reels forward but doesn’t have time to recoup as Thorin grabs him by the head and delivers a big knee right to his face!

And MASH flails backwards and lands right on his back! Thorin hooks the leg and goes for the pin…

…but there’s no ref!]


TC: Aw, shit!

[Tony Castillo, proprietor of Castillo’s Bar & Grill, leaves his station at the bar beside Norv and dives into the ring. He hasn’t even had the chance to take off his dress shirt which more than likely has his striped referee shirt underneath. He quickly begins the pin count…



Toasty: Come on, Eric! We expected results!

EEE: Sorry!

[Thorin scoops MASH back up, picks him upside down and drives him back down with a massive piledriver that shakes the ring.]

Toasty: I can check something off of my life list.

Johnny: What’s that?

Toasty: A dwarf piledriving an elf.

[Thorin goes for the pin again…



Shoulder up!]

TS: Ach! Wouldja stay down, al’ready!

[MASH actually doesn’t respond, though. He seems to be nearly out like a light…

…so Thorin starts to climb to the top rope!]

Crowd: (Again, thanks to Toasty.) CAN-A-DWARF-FLY? CAN-A-DWARF-FLY!?

[Apparently, one can. Thorin climbs to the top rope with a bit of speed and dives off just as quickly! He delivers a big ‘ol headbutt to the sprawled MASH!]

Toasty: Aw, damn! You ever hear of how hard a dwarf’s head is?!

[Thorin goes right for the pin…





[Some sort of Scottish tune plays while Thorin looks down at MASH. He promptly spits on the giant cross dresser and climbs out of the ring with his arms raised, victorious.]

Zach: Damn, dude. You just annihilated him!

TS: Aye. ‘E pissed me off more than Christopher Lee for being left out of Return of the King.

[The whole audience stares at him blankly.]

TS: [Breaks character to explain.] His character, Sauron?

[The crowd responds again with blank stares.]

TS: Sauron had conquered the Shire?

Jack: What are you talking about?

Johnny: Sauron wasn’t even _in_ the last movie!

[Thorin looks at all the faces in the crowd.]

TS: Have ye not read the book, lads?!!?

Toasty: There’s a book?


[Thorin shakes his head and heads back upstairs, probably to destroy someone at pool.

In the meantime, Eric "The Eric" Eric steps back into the ring again. He lightly taps at MASH with his foot. The seven footer groans and rolls out of the ring before disappearing back into the men’s bathroom.]

Exhibition Match
Abordar vs. Wayne Fenris
Referee: Tony Castillo
Written by: Joseph Thompson

[Behind the Castillo's bar, Norv is setting up a display of oddly-coloured magenta beer bottles labelled "Cerveza dorado del Cangrejo de Righteous!" Arthur, the more experimentally-minded of the old guys, buys one, even at the outrageous import price of $3.95.]

Arthur: A pink beer bottle? This isn't that Love Juice stuff I had once in the States, is it?

Norv: I wish. No, it's a crab-based Honduran lager. It's not actually from Mexico, but, it's close enough. Arthur: Eh, same language. How do you ferment crabs?

Norv: I don't know.

["Hound Dog" by Elvis Presley begins to play, and the crowd, having read the Chronicle Herald section on ISW, begins to get angry.]

College guys: U - S – A...SUCKS! U - S – A…SUCKS!

Triple E: Introducing first, from Memphis, Tennessee, weighing in at 312 pounds of mangy American jingoism, here he is, the original Honky Tonk Werewolf, the Hunka-Hunka-Howlin'-Bigotry and Hate, WAYNE FENRIS!

[Out comes Wayne Fenris, in his werewolf mask and intricately studded "Wayne Fenris" jumpsuit, which was probably made by a distasteful American authoritarian cult like many of the ones worn by that cheap impersonator who had to cover a Tom Jones song and appear in B-movies to get material. He hands his blue scarf to that girl who licked his blue suede shoes last show, who's name is apparently Priscilla, of course. And the "hare-loom gee-tar" is decorated with an American flag pattern this week, of course.]

Priscilla: Oooh!

[Priscilla faints as Fenris snatches the mic away from Triple E.]

Fenris: You Canada pansies make the King of Rock-and-Roll-Over sick! You communists don't even deserve to see me, the original swivel-hips, shake this thing in your ring! I served my country! I was shooting at the Nips in Iwo Jima before that other guy ever thought about joining up for good ol' Uncle Sam! I don't even see you flitty little college boys signing up to defend Canada against the chemical weapons Greenland has aimed at you every second.

Zach: Greenland has chemical weapons?

Toasty: I think he means that they stink up there. Nobody takes a bath, it's too damn cold.

[Fenris cocks his superior lycanthropic hearing towards this exchange, laughing at those two Canadian fruitcakes.]

Fenris: No, Canada stinks. Hell, that tub of lard I'm facing doesn't even want to be from here, either. He wants to be a burrito-snarfing, mariachi-playing Mexican! Abordar, tonight, the King will be T-C-A! That's "Takin' Care of Abordar", for you feeble-minded Nuckwads.

["Regla la Mundo" by Los Muchachos de la Batalla begins to play, and the crowd begins to chant!]

Crowd (except Priscilla): VIVA ABORDAR!

Priscilla [quietly]: It's "Viva Las Vegas", you fools!

Triple E: And his opponent, weighing in at over 300 pounds, he is OUR Mexinadian hero, the real Human Vending Machine, the improver of the quality of the newspaper, ABORDAR!

[Abordar comes to the ring with a sack of candy over his shoulder. He flings random candy at the patrons of Castillo's, the candy hitting people in the head and falling into people's drinks.]

Abordar: Enjoy! Enjoy, mi amigos!

Zach (taking a piece of candy from his hair and examining the label): Sour Crab Drops?

Mikey: Mine says 'Crab Licorice Delicio'.

Steve: Abordar! Are all these candies crab-based?

Abordar: Si, senor! Crab is muy bueno!

[From a table near the college kids a sullen looking, fairly drunk fellow throws a piece of candy back at Abordar. He's wearing a crumpled press pass that reads "Graydon McGuirk, Halifax Herald."]

Graydon: Abordar sucks!

Zach: Hey, come on, buddy. The candy's pretty gross, but Abordar's a good guy!

Graydon: The hell he is! He got me fired!

Mikey: What? No way.

Graydon: Yeah! I wrote an article about him and it ruined my career! (Graydon waves around a copy of the paper in question.) It's all his fault! I'll never cover another junior high curling championship again!

[Graydon starts sobbing, and Abordar walks over.]

Abordar: What is the matter, my esteemed friend? Did you not get a crab-pop? I have one here for you! How many licks until you get to the juicy crab-pop center? Attempt it and discover!

Crowd: One . . . Two . . . Three . . . **clap** THREE!!!

Graydon: No, you idiot! I don't want a crab sucker! I came to see you get your ass kicked! I hope that werewolf bites your arms off!

Zach: I read that article! All you did was slander Abordar and take the Lord's name in vain!

Mikey: He talked bad about Ric Flair?

Zach: No, he talked bad about Jesus Christ!

Mikey: Oh, yeah. He's pretty lord-like, too.

Abordar: I'm sure your article was fine, my friend! It is a great injustice that you were alleviated of your position. But do not worry! To make you feel better... I shall win this match! For you, and for our lord in heaven, Ric Flair!

[The crowd cheers and Graydon drops his head.]

Graydon: Great. Thanks a lot, you fat, crab-eating dumbass...

Crowd (with the obvious exceptions of Graydon, Priscilla, and that professor guy): CRAB IS BUENO!!!

[The bell rings, as we begin with a lockup between these two men, as Wayne Fenris starts off the action with the patented Greco-Roman thumb to the eye and a karate kick that barely fazed Abordar.]

Prof: This is an exciting match for you listeners on, as the gentleman who invented rock and roll just landed a manly kick to the abdomen of the masked Latino illiterate. And remember, we are your source for closeout furniture, at

[Abordar pulls something out of the sack of candy, which appears to be a crab-based gummi crab, and tosses it into the mouth of Wayne Fenris.]

Abordar: Fetch!

[Fenris just swallows the gummi crab, and appears to like it. He's asking Abordar to go to the sack for more crab goodies. And here it comes, the American flag heirloom guitar! He swings…and misses?]


[Abordar takes advantage of this, grabs the sack of seafood-based confections, and clouts Wayne Fenris over the head with it, leading to candy flying everywhere, including the professor's furniture-store-sponsored Internet-radio booth.]

Prof: I say, these Crabsie Rolls are actually not quite bad! They're almost as good as the vital rockabilly music Wayne Fenris once made that turned a generation to rebellion. And in accordance with the mystical traditions of Mexico, Abordar just busted the pinata, but technically, you are supposed to hit it with something to get the candy out, not the other way around. The ancient spirits of the Toltecs will not be pleased!

Jake (behind the professor): Stuff it in your crab-hole! Do you know anything about wrestling, even?

Prof: Yes, I read this really good explanation of everything written by this guy named Keith something . . . Or was it Scott something…

[With the objects out of the way, Abordar and Fenris seem to be going for some mat-based wrestling here, as Abordar gets the Honky Tonk Werewolf in a headlock and takes a knee, hitting a variant of the DDT variant everyone does these days, but yet, we don't get a "ONE OF A KIND" chant! Oh, yeah, it's Abordar, the fans like him.]

Crowd: Mexico, Si, USA, NO!!!! Mexico, Si, USA, NO!!!

[Wayne Fenris gets up from that move and lands a knife-edge chop to the face of Abordar, and begins swivelling his hips, in preparation for a leaping clothesline! Down goes the heroic corpulent Luchador as Fenris claps both hands somewhere in the vicinity of Abordar’s ears, only to go for the elbow to the throat.]

Graydon: Come on, King. You can do it! ROCK AND ROLL!!!

Prof: This has been quite an exciting use of what is called in wrestling "old-school" strategy, which is an odd choice of terms, because it did not in fact originate in a school, but in bars much like this one and small military installations throughout the American South in the first administration of former President Richard Nixon. And we have all ottomans on sale at eighty-percent off standard retail prices at Free Furniture for you dot come Yes, that's the number 4 and the letter U, because research has shown that the Internet robs you of your ability to spell.

[Abordar rings Fenris' bell with a crotch kick, and then whips him into the turnbuckle. Fenris climbs up top and simply leaps onto Abordar with a flying fistdrop that the luchador certainly felt. Fenris covers as Tony Castillo counts.]

Tony: One...Two...

[Abordar kicks out in a big way as the crowd cheers as he goes for a spinning heel kick on the original King of Rock-and-Roll Over, but Fenris grabs the leg!]

Prof: Surely, he's been around long enough to not fall for that trap! An enzuigiri is imminent!

[And so it is. Abordar's other leg connects quite audibly with the back of Wayne Fenris' head, and the man who gets his shots for rabies so he can please the ladies goes down. Abordar goes for a cross-body cover.]

Tony: One...

[And Wayne Fenris, who is still a little addled, begins swiveling his hips again, as he goes for the heirloom guitar once more, holding it this time more like a bat or a stick that the finely-tuned handcrafted musical instrument that it is.]

Fenris: U - S - A! AH - HOOOOOOO!

[Fenris swings the guitar at the head of Abordar, and once again, he misses! A bunch of the college guys seem to be playing air guitars and humming the theme to "Wayne's World" as Abordar climbs up top, making a rolling motion with his hands, so it looks like he's going for a Shooting Star Press, but no, Fenris shoves him off the top rope and into the steps as the crowd gasps. Fenris quickly slips under the rope and gets ready to drop the elbow on Abordar! But no, our Mexinadian hero dodges it and CLANK! The Honky Tonk Werewolf hits the steps hard with that elbow, which Abordar is in position to capitalize on and turn into a cradle armbar, although they are close to a countout.]

Tony: Thirteen...Fourteen...

[Abordar quickly realizes his error and drags Fenris back into the ring, where he executes the quick roll-up.]

Tony: One...

[The rollup is reversed by Fenris.]

Tony: One...

[And again by Abordar.]

Tony: One...T...

[And once again by Fenris.]

Tony: One...Two...Th...NO!!!

Prof: Now, that was a sequence to excite one's blood, two masked men rolling around the squared circle, practicing the most basic and deadly of all mat techniques in search of a victory, and yet neither man has yet won. And Abordar is making a motion similar to that of one dialling on a mobile phone . . .

[Eric "The Eric" Eric, sitting by the timekeeper’s table, suddenly picks up the microphone beside him.]

EEE: Just a reminder that the time limit will expire in ONE MINUTE.
Brian: What the heck? Since when did we have time limits?

Toasty: They always have, there just hasn't been a regular match this long before. Look, it's Nine-Oh-Two time! NINE-OH-TWO!!!

Crowd: NINE-OH-TWO!!!

[Abordar is preparing for a backflip off the turnbuckle onto Wayne Fenris, blithely ignoring the Original King's still-unblemished heirloom guitar, which Fenris has just grabbed. Abordar comes off the top as Fenris begins to swing the guitar!

CRASH!!! There are more guitar parts scattered around this ring than in Chet Atkins' basement, but the sheer momentum of three hundred pounds of Luchador still took out Wayne Fenris like the only schoolgirl in a logger bar! Both men are down, but it looks like Fenris is beginning to move first. Fenris gets up, and gets Abordar's head between his legs, he swivels his hips, here comes the Shake, Rattle, and Roll Over and Play Dead!! But as he drops to his knees to finish Abordar, the bell rings! The crowd looks confused, on one hand, they didn't get a decisive finish, but on the other hand, that Canada-bashing yahoo Fenris didn't win, and so they just simply clap in appreciation of fifteen minutes of good wrestling.]

Triple E: As a result of the fifteen-minute time limit, this Independent Spirit Wrestling contest has been declared a DRAW!!! We'll be seeing this one next week, folks . . .

Tony: No, Eric, they don't exactly have to face each other next week. But I bet all these beer and wing customers would like to see it!

Crowd: YEAH!!!!

Graydon: Uh, whatever, all I know is that that fat moron didn't win and this crab beer isn't actually all that bad; compared to his wrestling, anyway.

Brad [behind Graydon]: Why don't you just go join that fruitcake professor on the radio over there? Maybe you can cover some curling or something and not block my view when Mindy comes out. MINDY!!!!!

Graydon: Radio, eh?

[Graydon thinks to himself. Like a light bulb going off in his head, he raises an index finger and rushes out the door, coat in hand.]

Tournament Semi-Final
Mitch Brzezinski vs. Brother Superior
Written by: Keith McNally

[Mitch and Mindy enter the building, accompanied by a large contingent of handicapped Canadian tax-paying citizens, such as Lorne, Dirk, and Rich (the three oxygen-using asbestos miners from the Brzezinski newspaper article), blind airport screener Gary and his dog Duchess, local Halifax turntable artist I. B. Def-Fool, a hydrocephalic feral wolf-child, and some chick with one arm.]

Mitch: Can you feel the Brzezinski in the air tonight?

Crowd (and Mitch's handicapped entourage): YEAH!

Mitch: Well, all these fine gainfully-employed citizens of Nova Scotia are here with me tonight for one reason...


Mitch: No. They are here because they are offended; offended by Brother Superior and his insistence on showing up every wrestler in ISW with his foolish "handicaps". Anyone can wrestle a match using a pair of roller-skates as a foreign object, even I could figure out what to do with a Chinese finger trap inside of thirty seconds, and well, the legendary grappling career of Captain Wonder proves that extra weight hurts nobody.

I. B. Def-Fool: Yeah, if he wants to be fat like that, he could just eat the wings here, yo.
Lorne: And anyone can pull a 900 on blades, but just try it with a 500-pound tank of oxygen!
Gary: I smell alcohol. This place does have a license, right?

Tony [from behind the bar]: Of course we do...

[He looks carefully at it.]

Tony: Hey, this expired yesterday! I thought Norv was going to take care of that. I need your beers, people; it's got to go back in the keg.

Mitch: See there? I bet Brother Superior has probably ordered a beer tonight, without a super-human sense of smell to tell him that he was buying it illegally.

[The crowd grumbles as the beer is handed to Tony, who pours it in a generic keg marked "Pabst Blue Ribbon".]

College guys: WHERE'S OUR BEER? [clap-clap-clap-clap] IN THE PABST KEG! [clap-clap-clap]

Mitch: Sorry about that, but Norv was supposed to take care of that while I detailed the taps. But, look at how shiny they are, and they'll still be that way tomorrow!

Brother Superior, you have wrestled here with every conceivable crutch one man could possibly encumber himself with, and you've still won. But one. We shall take it to the mat like men, under amateur rules!

[The crowd gasps, because they all know that Mitch probably knows even less about amateur wrestling than he does about professional.

"You're the Best Around" by Peter Cetera plays and all eyes turn toward the bathroom, but no one emerges.

Triple E takes the ring mic and looks a little pleased that people don't emerge without his announcing them. He clears his throat.]

Triple E: Ladies and gentlemen... BROOOOOOOOTHER SUPEEEEEEEEERIOR!

[Still no Brother Superior. Triple E motions for the crowd to wait a moment while he leaves the ring and heads for the bathroom. Inside, he finds Brother Superior sitting on the toilet lid, reading a book called Freestyle and Greco-Roman Wrestling Rules and Procedures. Brother Superior flips a page every few moments, barely noticing Triple E.]

Triple E: What the..? What's going on? Your match is starting!

Superior: I know that. Leave me alone. I'll be out in a minute.

Triple E: What's that book? Freestyle Wrestling? Are you telling me you don't know anything about amateur wrestling?

Superior: I know everything about amateur wrestling! It's just been awhile, I'm brushing up. I can read faster than anyone alive, just... don't distract me.

[Triple E shrugs and returns to ring.]

Triple E: Ladies and gentlemen, sitting in the bathroom reading a book about amateur wrestling... Brooooother Supeeeeeerior!

[Brother Superior bursts from the bathroom, tossing his book aside.]

Superior (pointing to Triple E as he walks to the ring): Hey! I thought I told you to shup up!

Triple E: Clearly, his memory is not Superior, ladies and gentlemen.

[Superior rolls into the ring and takes the mic from Triple E, glancing at him derisively.]

Brother Superior: Mitch, I have lost respect for you. As Scott Bell, you were pathetic. Then you, as Mitch, began the long hard run before perfection. There was one flaw, however! And that’s helping other people. Once and a while it's forgivable, but if you really care for them, you shouldn't wait on them hand and foot like some sort of... waiter! They must learn to become stronger on their own, or DIE!

[A shocked gasp rises from the crowd.]

Superior: OK, they probably won't die.

Rich (briefly removing his respiration mechanism): I might.

Superior: Never the less, you're letting helpfulness get in your way, Mitch. I just wanted to get that off my chest. In any event, I will prove you to be my better by avoiding potholes and other such limitations that risk the inability to find perfection! Oh, wait, hold on a second.

[Brother Superior puts on the bulletproof vest he wore when he fought Lark.]

Superior: Now let's rassle! Freestyle!

Zach: Sometimes the things Brother Superior says make my brain sore.

Mikey: Yeah... I just take it for granted that he knows what he's talking about.

[Tony stands next to the ring as both combatants face off. He seems unsure of himself.]

Tony: So, does anyone here actually know the rules of amateur wrestling?

Superior (raising a hand): I do.

Tony: I'm aware of that. You can't ref your own match.

Superior: I don't see why not.

Tony: Because you'd cheat.

[Superior leans over the ropes, glaring at Tony.]

Superior: Are you calling me a cheater?

Tony: No, I'm just saying-

Superior: Are you... calling me... a cheater?

Mitch: He's got a point. He may be a jerk, but he doesn't cheat. He does the opposite, he, uh, whadayacallit... eats HandiSnacks...

Tony: He handicaps himself.

Mitch: Right. I forget words sometimes.

Superior: I strive for excellence. I don't cheat others and I don't cheat myself. The only one I cheat is God, out of the position of being the most omniscient presence in the universe.

Zach (standing up): I take issue with that statement! You weren't always so great! What about back in Delaware Grand Prix Wrestling, circa 1994, when you were The Space Racist? Who were you superior to then?

Superior: All space-races besides my own, obviously.

Mikey: What does that even mean?

Superior: It means I don't trust no man made out of gas. (He turns back to Tony.) Who else are you gonna find to ref the match? Your boot-lick Norv?

[Norv looks up from behind the bar, where he's polishing a pair of Tony's shoes.]

Norv: Hey!

Mitch: You know, Superior's got a point. He's the only one here who knows the rules.

Tony: Well, you must know amateur rules, Mitch. You're the one who suggested the match, after all.

Mitch: Well, yeah... You'd think that, wouldn't you?

Tony: You mean you don't know the rules to your own match!?

Mitch (glancing sideways): Could you maybe keep that under wraps a little bit, Tony? I know the rules a bit, but not good enough to referee. But don't worry! I'm cool with this! I trust Brother Sup. His own stringent honesty will be like an additional handicap.

Superior: I'll even do you one better.

[Superior rolls from the ring and grabs a book bag he'd stashed behind the bar, labelled "Handicap Gear". He takes out an eye patch and some liquid paper, and then uses it to paint a series of white stripes across the eye patch.]

Superior: There. (He puts it on.) Referee eye patch. Poor depth perception.

Mitch (almost pleading to Tony): C'mon, help the guy out! He tries so hard!

[Tony glances at Superior, then at Mitch, then shrugs.]

Tony: If you wanna let this wacko ref his own match, it's fine with me. But honestly, Mitch, I think you're going a little too far toward helpfulness, here.

[Mitch's eyes go wide.]


Tony: I'm just saying, it's a semi-final championship match!

Mitch: I know what it is! Eric, ring the bell! (Mitch gets into grappling position.) Let's get this underway!

Superior: Now hold on -- There are rules and protocol to follow. Firstly, we're supposed to wear regulation blue or red tights.

Mitch: No time. Let's go!

Superior: Also, I'm in an illegally higher weight class than you.

Mitch: I don't care! Let's wrestle!

Superior: Rather than the single 5:00 period, I suggest we wrestle two 2:30 minute periods with a thirty second break.

Mitch: Fine! Who's gonna keep time?

Superior: I will. I have a perfect mental clock.

Mitch (chuckling): That is so nerdy.

[Superior watches Mitch coldly as he gets into grappling position.]

Superior: Keep it clean. Go!

[The match begins, and the crowd soon finds themselves a little lost. Both men vie for leverage, administering holds on one another. Mitch's holds are distinctly more simplistic than Brother Superior's, but despite this, they seem to be effective. Mitch holds his own, keeping up with Superior, and Superior calls out the points as each man scores a fall, and at one point even reprimands himself for passivity.]

Brian: Man, this is weird. I don't know if I should cheer or what. I mean, I recognize some of these moves. There, see that one Mitch is doing? That's definitely an armbar.

Zach: Yeah, but where are the full-nelsons? Where are the moonsaults?

[Mikey gets up and grabs the rule book Superior had discarded, then goes back to his seat. He starts flipping through.]

Mikey: Yes, yes, I see... hmm, that's very interesting.

Zach: What?

Mikey: The Ijaw tribe in Nigeria wrestle as part of their culture, and all kids learn how to do it as they grow up. I bet Mitch wishes he grew up there.

Zach: I still say he's doing pretty good; as far as I can tell.

[Superior calls for the end of the first 2:30 minute round, and he and Mitch, both winded, take a breather.]

Brian: Holy crap, look at that -- Superior was right on. It's been two and a half minutes almost exactly. He was like a second off. (Brian starts timing the 30 second break and whispers to himself, so Superior can't hear.) 28... 29... 30.

Superior: Round two!

Brian: That's just eerie.

[Cheers rise from the table of old guys at the back, who are definitely the ones most into the match.]

Bruno: Now that's what wrestling's all about! Not fancy-dancy flips and throwing candy at the crowd. It's about sweat! It's about blood! It's about honour! It's about passion! IT'S ABOUT STANDING UP AND BEING A MAN! IT'S ABOUT STARING DOWN THE WORLD AND SAYING-

Riley: Bruno, relax! You're gonna rupture something!

Bruno (with a crazy look in his eye): My son is coming to visit this weekend with his wife. I'm gonna wrestle that little whipper-snapper to the ground. And maybe his wife too. I feel re-invigorated! I love this kind of wrestling! I wonder if the senior's center has a wrestling team?

Riley: Well if you start one, I'm not gonna join.

Bruno: Of course, you're not. It's too manly for you, ya girl.

Riley: Bruno, I'm clearly a wrinkled old man. I am not a girl.

Bruno: Pft. Says you.

[In the ring the match continues, with a surprising amount of pained yelps coming involuntarily from Superior. He gets Mitch as good as Mitch gets him, but Mitch's offense is becoming increasingly abstract, to the point where Superior is often taken by surprise and can be heard saying things like "What is THAT?" and "AHH!!"

Mitch catches Superior with a surprise takedown just before the end of the second round, and Superior calls for the bell and stumbles to his feet, breathing heavily.]

Tony: So let me guess who's ahead. Yourself, right?

[Superior shakes his head.]

Superior: No... I told you, I don't cheat, and I hate to admit it, but... for points, me and Mitch are tied.

Mitch: Ha! Tied! In your face, Soup! (Mitch starts to dance around a little.) I knew you weren't so Superior... My car has vinyl interior...

Superior (rubbing his arm): Your style is terrible, Brzezinski. It's like a horrible alien crab-creature latching itself onto me...

Mitch: Yeah, but it works.

[From the far end of the bar Moe the bouncer yells "Cangrejo!" People turn their heads to look as Moe turns away and starts whistling, pretending that he hadn't said anything.]

Mitch: And you're no picnic either, Superior. That weird head-squeezing move you had me in almost made me pass out.

Superior: That was a headlock.

Mitch: Whatever. The point is that it hurt. So what's next? Another round?

[Mitch gets back into position, and a visible shudder runs up Superior's body.]

Superior: I guess we have no choice. But wrestling with you makes me feel... unclean. Like I need to go tell someone that I can trust.

[Superior glances at the crowd, and there appears to be a tiny twinkle of pleading in his one uncovered eye.

Toasty picks up on this looks around at the crowd, starting to chant.]

Toasty: We want pro rules! We want pro rules!

[The chant catches on a little slowly, but eventually the entire bar is chanting "WE WANT PRO RULES! WE WANT PRO RULES!" Somewhere in the back, Bruno counters with a one-man chant of "Freestyle for life! Freestyle for life!"]

Mitch: Well, if pro wrestling is what the people want, then pro wrestling they shall receive! (He glances at Superior and says sarcastically) Unless you wanna follow the "rules" or whatever.

Superior: No, no! Pro style is fine! Tony! Ref the match!

[Superior takes off his eye patch and tosses it to Tony. Tony puts on the patch for a moment before realizing what he's doing and pulling it off, tossing it behind the bar. Tony slides into the ring and the match resumes!

However, Mitch does not revert immediately to his pro style. He crouches into a modified grappling position, holding his hands up and clicking them together like claws, scuttling toward Superior.]

Mitch: I will crab you... You will be crabbed...

[Superior retreats in spite of himself, then shakes it off and gives Mitch a swift boot to the stomach.]

Superior: Stop that crab stuff! I mean it!

Moe: Los cangrejos son majestuosos!

[Some of the patrons look back to Moe, who once again pretends that he didn't say anything.]

Jake: Crabs are majestic?

[Mitch stands up from his kick in the gut and gets a far off look.]

Mitch: Hey, I just realized... Did anyone else notice that Moe and Abordar have never been photographed together?

[As Mitch is pondering this Superior catches him with a flying neck-breaker, taking him to the canvas. Superior then climbs to the top turnbuckle and pauses a moment to address the crowd.]

Superior: Ladies and gentlemen, you may want to get your cameras ready.

[Norv prepares his disposable camera and gives Superior a thumbs up.

Superior executes what looks like a shooting star press, the flash of Norv's camera punctuating the moment, but doesn't rotate all the way. Instead, he comes down fists-first on Mitch's abdomen.]

Crowd: OOOWWWW!!!

[Superior fails to roll with the move and almost lands on his head, but manages to take the fall on his shouler. He then pulls himself across Mitch's limp body.

Tony drops for the count!




Tony raises Superior's hand in victory!]

Steve: Man, Mitch went down fast.

Zach: What the heck was that move?

Mikey: I think it defied several laws of physics!

Zach: But it was awesome!

[Moe comes to the ring and helps Mitch roll out, then supports him as he walks to the back. As he passes he can be heard saying "Should have stuck with the crab moves."]

[Triple E rolls into the ring.]

Triple E: Your winner and moving on the the finals... BRO SUP! (Triple E pats Superior on the back.) 'Sup, bro?

[Superior gives Triple E a cold glance as he exits the ring.]

Triple E: Geez, you don't have to be so crabby.

[A smattering of laughs rise from the crowd.]

Steve: What's with all the crab references tonight? Did the stars align in the form of the crab or what?

[Moe, who's returning from helping Mitch, overhears and stops at the college guys table. He leans in conspiratorially.]

Moe: No, they have not. This is not yet the time of the crab. But when the stars do find themselves in that fashion... beware.

[Moe looks around at the college guys with deadly seriousness, and then goes back to his position at the front door.]

Zach: Well, that was creepy.

Mikey: I guess it's time to start being aware.

Tournament Semi-Final
Little Blue Super Jew vs. "Smooth Criminal" Genshun Osakawa
Referee: Cadwell Warner
Written by: Nick Piers

[The everlasting and energetic Eric "The Eric" Eric is back in the ring for more ring announcing duty. From out of the kitchen doors, Cadwell Warner starts walking towards the ring. As per usual, his husky body manages to fill a striped and sleeved referee shirt and black pants.]

EEE: Ladies and gentlemen! This next match is schedule for one fall….and is a Jon Rose Invitational Tournament Semi-Final Match!

[The crowd gives a round of cheers and clinks their glasses together in appreciation. And then, suddenly…

…BOW! That's Smooth Criminal by Alien Ant Farm, and from the men’s washroom comes everyone’s favourite King of J-Pop. Genshun comes out in a full white outfit this week, complete with white fedora
reminiscent of the Smooth Criminal video. He looks on the verge of tears and grabs a microphone from the timekeeper’s desk. There is no dancing, no joyous wonder of children in his skinny Japanese face. He looks to the crowd, his back turned to the ring.]

SCGO: Tonight, all my vainglorious fans from around the globe, I face a monster. I know your prayers will be with me, and that fills my heart with gladness maximum.

Toasty: Abordar makes more sense than you!


Toasty: (To Steve.) Hey, he understands English!

[Genshun regains his composure and his voice becomes faint and lilty again.]

SCGO: But the monster I face tonight is not Gojira. It is not Mothra. It is not even the Supreme Court of the States United of America. It is the horrible crime of circumcision. Every year, millions of infant boys are horrible mutilation riders to crimes of the wang.

Some Random Guy: HALF BY YOU!


[The crowd of course emits a chorus of boos, half laughing at Genshun’s ridiculousness as they usually do. He returns to his Happy Super Fun Zone.]

SCGO: And these boys are never consulted about their operation. It is the Jewish people that spread this crime like chickens on a bagel. It is the Jewish people I fight tonight. If you were a victim of this crime, join in with me in chanting, as you were before a Shinto shrine, "ITS NOT FAIR!"

[Genshun walks around the crowd chanting "Its Not Fair!" The chant starts up slowly, but eventually it catches on, silly as it is.]



[The crowd laughs. Genshun is excited and hopping up and down.]


[The crowd erupts in boos and laughter, throwing rolled up napkins at Genshun. Some of the older ones are so offended they get up to leave, and Tony is left with having to give them free drinks to get them to stay. Genshun enters the ring, dejected that his views on foreskin are not appreciated, and warms up by stretching the ropes in classical technical wrestler style. Apparently, he's done talking and is down to business.]

EEE: Um... [Keeps a weary eye on Genshun.] From the Neverland Ranch in Parts Unknown, weighing in at one hundred and seventy eight points…

Toasty: Pounds.

EEE: Pounds, right. Ladies and gentlemen, the Smooth Criminal! Genshun! Osakawa!

[The crowd is still trying to drown the taste out of their mouth after Genshun’s promo. They’re relatively quiet and waiting for the other participant in this match.]

EEE: His opponent…

["Creeping Death" by Metallica starts up in the bar.]

EEE: From Tel Aviv, Israel. Weighing in at two hundred and thirty six pounds…

Mikey: The Little Blue Super Jew!!!!

EEE: (Sighs, as he’s getting used to that.) Yep.

["Creeping Death" continues to play as everyone looks to the kitchen doors. The Little Blue Super Jew still does not appear, though, oddly enough.]

Mikey: Oh man, he can’t be drunk again.

[Suddenly, there’s the sound of two Jewish chaps entering the establishment from the coat check area where the front doors are.]

Mordechai: Well, it took us long enough to get here.

Eli: We would’ve been here sooner if you could learn how to parallel park!

Mordechai: With your lousy directions, we could _be_ lucky enough to even find this place!

Eli: Well, at least we’re here! Look, there are a couple of seats over there.

[The two men take their seats somewhere behind the fifty or so college guys. Surprisingly, though, there’s still no sign of the Little Blue Super Jew.]

Mordechai: Where the heck is he? He said this was his music, wasn’t it?

Eli: Yep, he said to come around this time for his match.

[Genshun is looking towards the kitchen doors, waiting for his opponent. The whole crowd is murmuring to themselves in confusion.]

Eli: Oh, well there he is!

Mordechai: Quiet you! You’ll ruin his plan!

[The Little Blue Super Jew crawls from underneath the ring, wiping his lips clean of what looks to be some of the infamous Castillo’s barbeque wing sauce. The crowd roars in laughter and loud cheering as the Super Jew not only silently climbs up onto the apron, but climbs the turnbuckle to the top rope!]

Mikey: WOOO! Incoming!!

[Osakawa, startled by Mikey’s shouting, whirls around just in time to be in the receiving end of a double axehandle off the top rope! Genshun crumbles like Tokyo during a Godzilla attack and the Super Jew quickly hooks the leg for a pin attempt! Eric Eric dives out of the ring and Cadwell drops on his belly for a pin count…



SCGO: You too old for me!

[The crowd laughs heartedly at this while Genshun leaps to his feet and bounces off the ropes in front of him. He leaps up and wraps his legs around Super Jew’s head for an attempted head scissors…

…but Super Jew holds his ground, hoists Genshun up on his shoulders in mid-spin in an airplane position…

…but Genshun keeps whirling on top of Super Jew’s shoulders. He whirls around and brings LBSJ down hard onto the mat with a _huge_ spinning DDT!!!!]

Crowd: OHHHHH!!!

[Genshun with the pin attempt!



Kick out!]

Crowd: TWO!

[Super Jew sits up and starts to get back to his feet, but Genshun keeps the momentum going by bouncing off the ropes and dropkicking Super Jew square in the jaw while he’s on his hands and knees! Genshun again goes for the pin attempt!



Kick out! Super Jew kicks out so powerfully that he bench presses and flings Genshun right over the middle rope and to the floor on the outside!]

Mordechai: Hey, LBSJ! We both made it! Hang in there!

Eli: Eh, fight, fight! Show 'em some Hebrew fury!

Mikey: Come on, El-Bee!

[Super Jew climbs to one knee to catch his breath for a moment. Genshun starts to shake off the cobwebs on the outside of the ring. Super Jew sees his opponent on the outside, bounces off the opposite ropes and comes flying through the top and middle rope with a massive cross body block to the outside!

Both men are down for the moment as the crowd goes absolutely nuts! The two men had been reeled so hard from the cross body that they nearly went past the protection ropes!]

Mordechai: What are you DOING in there?? Fight! Get up!
Eli: Stay tough, LBSJ! We'll save you!
Mordechai: Are you meshugganah in the head?? I'm not getting in there!

[Both men struggle to their feet. Genshun makes it to his feet first and chops Super Jew hard in the chest!]

Crowd: WOO!

[Super Jew fires back with a right hand that sends the Smooth Criminal reeling back into the ring post! Genshun fires back with another chop to LBSJ’s chest! At the same time, Cadwell begins counting the two of the out.]

Crowd: Woo!!

CW: One! Two!

[Super Jew charges for a clothesline, but Genshun ducks and winds up behind LBSJ. He suddenly stops and gawks at LBSJ’s backside.]

SCGO: You have the buttocks of a child! Ooh, how wonderful!

LBSJ: You sick, twisted…!

CW: Three! Four!

[Super Jew spins around for another hopeful punch, but Smooth Criminal ducks again, this time wrapping his arms around Super Jew’s right arm. At the same time, Genshun swings his legs into the ring, wraps himself around the post and hooks his arms around Super Jew’s left arm!]

Zach: A bow and arrow around a post!?!?!?! Jesus!!!

Mordechai: Don’t give up yet, David!

Mikey: David!?

Eli: Sure, you thought his real name was the Little Blue Super Jew?

Mikey: [Quietly to himself.] Well…maybe.

[Genshun wrenches the bow and arrow as hard as he can with the Super Jew grimacing from the pain of his arms being pulled back behind him.]

CW: (Stops his count and climbs out of the ring.) Come on, Genshun! You can’t do that!


[Smooth Criminal wrenches back as far as he can. The patrons of Castillo’s can almost here the tendons in Super Jew’s arms pulling under the tension.]

CW: Break it up, Genshun!

SCGO: Never!!

[Cadwell pulls at Osakawa’s legs, but can’t break the lock on them. In the meantime, the Little Blue Super Jew suddenly leans forward, planting his legs on the bottom part of the ring post. He leans back as far as he can, which isn’t much, and then heaves forward!

Genshun groans heavily as he loses all the wind in his lungs. Stunned, Osakawa breaks the hold and rolls away from the corner and into the middle of the ring. Super Jew drops to his knees on the outside, cradling both of his arms in an awkward crossing.]

Mordechai: Quit holding yer imaginary baby, will ya!?

Eli: Hang in there, El-Bee Ess Jay! Mordechai’s on his way!

Mordechai: You’ve gotta be kidding me!

[The Blue Bomber slowly climbs onto the apron, shaking his arms to get the circulation going again. Genshun leaps to his feet and latches onto Super Jew’s right arm and deftly snaps it over the top rope. The set of three loose ropes all shake violently as Blue hollers in agony.]

Mikey: Come on, Dave!

Eli: It’s David.

Mikey: Come again?

Mordechai: He feels insulted to be called Dave.

Toasty: Oh really?

[Genshun whirls Super Jew around so Blue has his back against the ropes on the apron. Osakawa hooks Blue’s arms and hoists him high up on the apron in a reverse double chicken wing. Cadwell rolls back into the ring.]

CW: Come on, Genshun, you can’t do that! One! Two!

[Genshun lowers Blue back down onto the apron. Super Jew amazingly stays on his feet while the Smooth Criminal pulls something out of his tights….a white handkerchief? He gently places the hanky over Super Jew’s head, which covers it. He then locks the double reverse chicken wing again and hoists Blue high up…]

SCGO: (Singing) Hush little Blue Jew, don’t you cry. Genshun’s gonna help you say good….BYE!

[…and drops him face first onto the wooden planked floor below!!!]

Crowd: OHHHH! Ho-Lee Shit! Ho-Lee Shit!

SCGO: (Wipes an invisible tear.) I call that the wonderful Baby Drop.

Mikey: THAT’S SICK!!!


[Super Jew hasn’t even stirred since the impact on the floor. Genshun does some light stretching in the middle of the ring while Cadwell Warner begins to count out the Super Jew.]

CW: One! Two!

Mikey: Come on, David! Don’t give up yet!

Mordechai: Go on there, Eli. Help the poor boy up.

Eli: Ha! You’d like me to get involved, wouldn’t you?

Toasty: I’ve got an idea.

[Cadwell continues to count; Genshun practices his moonwalk in the middle of the ring…and the crowd begins to chant something similar to a Darryl Strawberry chant.]


Eli: Oh, he ain’t gonna like that.

Mordechai: Nope.

CW: Three! Four!

[With the crowd chanting a most hateful chant, the Super Jew suddenly springs to life with a push up! He gets to his knees and looks around at the crowd chanting louder and louder.]


CW: Five! Six!

[Super Jew bolts to his feet and rolls into the ring with a fiery anger in his eyes. Genshun steps right up to him and delivers a massive chop to Blue’s chest…

…which he no sells! Super Jew didn’t even feel it! CHOP!]

Crowd: WOO!

[No sold, again! Super Jew grabs Genshun by his black hair and delivers BIIIIIIG headbutt that sends Osakawa flying onto his back! Though reeling, Genshun pops back up to his feet, but it sent floating back into the ropes, thanks to a big forearm to his skull!]

Mikey: Rip him a new one, David!!!

[Blue pushes himself against Genshun and whips him into the opposite ropes. Osakawa runs back and meets with a massive knee from Blue to Genshun’s stomach! He keels forward but manages to stay on his feet…barely.]

LBSJ: You boys ready for the Dreidle Driver?!

Crowd: YEAH!!!

[With Genshun keeled forward, Super Jew tucks the Smooth Criminal’s head between his legs and hoists him upside down…

…Super Jew does a leap with a bit of a spinning twist…

…and comes back down onto the mat with a huge spinning piledriver! The whole ring shakes as the crowd goes absolutely bonkers!!! Super Jew goes for the pin!



Shoulder Up!]

Crowd: TWO!

[LBSJ gets back to his feet, pulling on Osakawa’s hair to pull him up as well.]

Eli: Super-Jew! Super-Jew! Super-JEW!

Mordechai: How do you do that?

Eli: Do what?

Mordechai: Speak in all capitals like that.

Eli: Would you just root him on?!

[Super Jew turns around with his back facing Osakawa and locks onto the Smooth Criminal’s head.]

Mikey: David and Goliath!!!

Zach: Quit calling his moves.

Mikey: I can’t help it!

[Blue runs towards the turnbuckle, Osakawa’s head in hand and runs up the turnbuckle…

…only Genshun whirls around in mid Acid Drop and brings the Super Jew back down onto the match with a big backdrop! The Smooth Criminal holds onto the position and goes into a bridge for a pin attempt!




Crowd: OHHHH!

[Genshun slowly gets back up to his feet while Super Jew still lies still in the middle of the ring. Osakawa climbs out of the ring and crawls his way up to the top rope.]


[Genshun shuffles his shoulders back and forth, imitating the Thriller dance…

…and flies high in the air with his elbow pointing at Super Jew’s head…


…but Super Jew suddenly comes alive again, grasping hard onto the same arm Genshun used for the top rope elbowdrop! Blue struggles with the flailing Genshun to lock an armbar on…]

Mikey: Break his arm!

Eli: You can do it!!

[Despite the flailing, Super Jew manages to lock the Genshun’s arm pointing upwards. He wraps his legs around Osakawa’s midsection. Finally, he manages to lock Genshun’s other arm into a similar armbar, which means he locked on…]

Mikey: The Arm Bar Mitzvah!

[With Genshun screaming at the top of his lungs like a little girl, Super Jew wrenches the hold as hard as he can. Much like when Blue was in the bow and arrow around the post, the crowd can hear the tendons in Genshun’s arms pulling and teetering on the point of breaking…

Super Jew continues to wrench the hold…

…and wrench…]

CW: Do you quit?

SCGO: NO! I will win this for the children!

The 4 Old Guys in the back and their Children: YOU SUCK!

SCGO: Nooooo! My power is gone!

[Smooth Criminal taps!

*Ding, ding, ding!!!*

EEE: The winner of this match as a result of a submission…and moving into the finals of this tournament…THE LITTLE BLUE SUPER JEW!!!!

[The patrons of Castillo’s go into another wild frenzy as Super Jew breaks the hold and rolls out of the ring. Eli and Mordechai pat him on the back as they accompany him back to the kitchen.]

LBSJ: Come on, guys. I’ll show you how those wings are made.

Eli & Mordechai: WAHOO!

[Feeling dejected from the children, Smooth Criminal wipes another imaginary tear, rolls out of the ring and hangs his head low as he walks back into the men’s washroom.]

Contract Signing
Chase Hunter and Mark Sherrick

[Eric "The Eric" Eric steps into the ring, clipboard of notes in hand. From the coat check room, Moe and Norv heave out a large rolled up red carpet. As Triple E begins to speak, Moe and Norv unroll the carpet inside the ring to give a nice red carpeted ring, even if it's got a few old beer stains.]

EEE: Ladies and gentlemen...


[The audience bursts into laughter from this. Eric stops for minute, scratches his head. Guess he didn't catch Chase Hunter's article in the Herald last week. He shrugs and continues on and Moe and Norv disappear into the coat check room again.]

EEE: It is now time for the contract signing between Chase Hunter and Mark Sherrick.

[The patrons of Castillo's Bar & Grill give a good 'old uproar of cheers and clinking of glasses.]

EEE: First, the challenger and new guy...

["Push" by Moist starts up on the shoddy PA system in Castillo's. The crowd gets to their feet and shows their appreciation by applauding, cheering, hooting and hollering.]

EEE: The former Incredible Falling Down Purple Guy....

[A young man, probably nearing his 30s, steps through the kitchen doors. Wearing a blue leather jacket, black jeans and a white t-shirt, he steps out and gives the crowd a sly little salute with his middle and index
fingers. He shrugs his shoulders and walks towards the ring.]

Steve: Who's this guy? Why's everyone making such a big deal about him?

Mikey: He used to be a pretty big name in the Canadian wrestling world a few years ago.

Zach: He used to wrestle in SCRA and UWF, which are both Canadian based.

Steve: Huh. All right then.

EEE: [Finishing off his announcing.] CHASE…..HUNTER!!!!

[Chase hops up to the apron and looks to the crowd. He shuts his jacket all of a sudden, then spreads it out wide, mocking as if he's flashing the crowd.]

CH: Woo!!!

Terri: [Leans over to Steve.] Wouldn't that be more impressive if he wasn't wearing a shirt?

CH: [Shrugs.] Eh, it's a work in progress!

[Chase climbs into the ring and gives Eric Eric a big 'ol hug. They act as if they're long time friends, which, funny enough...they are. Triple E hands the microphone over to Chase, who takes off the blue leather jacket and hands it over the top rope.]

CH: Man, it's been awhile, hasn't it?

Mikey: Too long!

Steve: How long has it been?

Mikey: Oh, about four years.

Steve: That's it?

[Chase climbs up onto the second turnbuckle and sits on the top turnbuckle. Meanwhile, Eric climbs out of the ring while Norv and Moe disappear into the coat check room again.]

CH: I tell ya, guys, if there's one thing that sickens me more than anything...

Toasty: Is the wings!!!!

Tony Castillo: HEY!

CH: Well, there's _that_ and.....Sherrick.

[A huge chorus of boos ring through the bar. Even Eric Eric gets behind the booing!]

CH: Listen Marky Mark, I've been hearing about what you've done. Let's list of the crimes, shall we?

[Chase raises his index finger.]

Crowd: ONE!

CH: You nearly killed poor Cadwell Warner on more than one occasion.

[Raises his middle finger to join his index.]

Crowd: TWO!

CH: You've gone against what the boss has said on more than one occasion. And he's a pretty cool boss, you've gotta admit.

[Raises his ring finger.]

Crowd: THREE!

CH: Your hurt Eric's hand a few weeks ago.

EEE: Yeah! It still hurts! I can't write the same anymore.

[Chase raises his pinky finger.]

Crowd: FOUR!

Mikey & Zach: The sign of the Horsemen!

CH: You hospitalized the boss. That's unforgivable.

EEE: Yeah!

[Chase hops down off the turnbuckle. Moe and Norv appear again. Moe is carrying a basic table that you'd see at a flea market. Norv is right behind him with a couple of wooden chairs.]

CH: So Sherrick, this is how it works. The Versatile One is giving you that serious feud you want. We could banter back and forth until the cows come home...

Toasty: MOO!!

CH: Heh. Moo, indeed. I'm putting this guy out to pasture.

[The crowd roars with laughter. Meanwhile, Moe and Norv set up the table and chairs in the middle of the ring. Chase sits down at the table with his hands folded around the microphone.]

CH: We'll make this nice, serious and official, just for you, boopsie.

Toasty: BOOPSIE!

CH: And here's my challenge.

Crowd: [With Toasty's help] PASTURIZE BOOPSIE! [Clap, clap! Clap-clap-clap-clap!]

[Chase drops an elbow down on the table and tries to hold himself together.]

CH: Man, you guys kill me, you know that?


CH: Come on, guys, really.


CH: Can I do this, or not?

[Finally, the crowd dies down.]

CH: [Gets completely serious.] Sherrick. [Pauses.] Mark. Either one of us could get a lucky, pull it out of their ass victory. You could cheat. I could play dirty. Doesn't matter.

EEE: Kill him!!!!

CH: I'm getting to that, Triple E. Mark, here's how it works. We're having a series of "best three out of five" matches. The first two are straight, one on one match ups.

Crowd: WOO!

Mikey: Old school!

CH: The third will be something that we should both be familiar with.....A Street Fight. Right here in Castillo's.

[The patrons of Castillo's roar loudly and clink their glasses together.]

CH: The fourth? Falls count anywhere in Downtown Halifax!

Mikey: Holy crap!

Zach: They could wrestle right on the docks just down the street!

[The crowd surges again at the prospect of watching this fight spill into the streets.]

CH: And finally. Should we go right to the five, and I think we will?

[Chase pauses and looks around at the crowd. Triple E crosses his fingers in anticipation of the next announcement. The crowd dies down, waiting with bated breath. Chase lifts the microphone back up to his lips and casually says…]

CH: Cage match.

Mikey: WHOA!!

Zach: Here in Castillo's?!

CH: Here in Castillo's.

[The whole bar erupts for the largest pop you've ever heard in Castillo's! It's at this point...

...that "Eminence Front" by the Who starts up, interrupting the cheers and replacing them with an extremely loud chorus of boos. After his customary moment, Sherrick saunters out towards the ring, as the boos in the bar intensify. He reaches the ring, and enters. He approaches the table, and rips the microphone out of Chase’s cupped hands. He leans back on the top rope, looking directly at Hunter.]

Sherrick: Chase Hunter. I should have known you were here...I thought I smelled something odd when I got
here this first, I thought Tony was just getting in some new sauce for those wings...

Tony: HEY!!

S: Firstly, let me address some of your earlier comments, before I get to the fun stuff. I tried to
kill Caldwell Warner? Damn right, I did...but really...who hasn't wanted to kill him at one point or

Toasty: He's got a point there, Chase...

CH: Well geez, okay, but Cal and every patron of Strange Adventures doesn’t count!

[The bar erupts in laughter.]

S: I don’t do what Jon Rose wants me to do! Of course I don't! What’s the fun in that?? Then there's Triple
E and his bony little girly hand....if he'da given me the mic when I asked, I would have left him alone...I
am a gentleman, after all. I do give you one point, though...I did hospitalize Jon...And for that, I'm sorry...sorry I didn't do a better job!!

[Booooooooooooooo!!!! And so on. Eric bursts to his feet, slamming his hands on the time keeper’s table, but stays where he is. Chase turns around in the chair and raises a hand in a "I’ve got it under control" manner.]

S: I could come out here, and complain, like I usually do.

Jack: Or get screwed over.

Toasty: Like you did in Toronto.

S: [Ignoring them.] But for once, something around here actually makes sense. I mean, shit, I already wrestled a midget and a pedophile impersonator in the last month. Why not wrestle a fool a couple times while I'm at it?

Steve: You wanna take on the Clichéd Villain?

S: [Still ignoring.] You see, has been my mission for years, to rid myself of all the bullshit that people like you piled on me when all I was trying to do was make a decent living. It's people like you who ruined this great sport for so many people like me. Do you think I like wrestling for fifty people in Podunk, Canada?

Brian: Hey, that’s where my mom lives!

Steve: Mine, too!

S: [Yes, still ignoring.] Of course not...but it’s what I have to do, because of people like you. So tell me this, Chase...where do I sign? Where do I sign so I can end you? You have to realize that you'll be unleashing three years of pent up hostility against you, once you sign these papers...and once I do. Once there are two signatures

Crowd: TWO!

S: …on this paper...your life is over. Simple as're done. I'm actually kind of glad that the morons across town who we used to wrestle for kept us apart from each other...this way I get to kick your ass three times instead of just once. Let's end the suspense, Chase...lets get down to business. Let’s make your doom official...and the good part of all that it was all your idea. You MUST have a death wish...and I'll be glad to oblige it for you.

[Sherrick approaches the table and sits down, ready to sign. Chase doesn’t let eye contact go as the animosity between the two of them boils. Triple E jumps up onto the apron and throws a paper airplane into the ring. With amazing grace, the plane lands in the middle of the table between Sherrick and Chase. Sherrick snatches the paper up quick and unfolds the paper. He catches a pen that is tucked into one of the nooks and smoothes the contract on the table.]

S: I sign this, I get you for at the very least, three matches?

CH: Best of five.

S: Hm. You can go first.

[Sherrick slides the paper across the table and tosses the pen at Chase. The Versatile One calmly signs the contract with little more than a peep. He then slides the paper back across the table.]

S: I hope you realize that you won’t make it past the first match.
Crowd: OOOOH!

[Sherrick writes his John Hancock down onto the contract…

…and then pushes the table as hard as he can into Chase’s gut!!!!! What, you expected pleasantries after this?!]

EEE: Hey! Damnit, Sherrick…

S: Shut up, twelve year old!

[Sherrick flips the table up and smacks Chase right in the face. The table falls back onto its legs as Chase collapse on top of it. Sherrick looks to the crowd and raises his arms for the applause he deserves.

He gets it.]


S: Yeah?

[Sherrick darts and bounces off the second rope, moonsaulting back…

…and crushes the prone Chase between himself and the table! The table’s wood cracks and breaks. The metal frame stays remarkably in place. Chase is now hanging on his stomach over the frame, completely unconscious.]

S: [Points to Eric Eric as he climbs underneath the table frame.] Consider that a message, errand bitch! Rose can send whoever he wants after me, it doesn’t matter.

[Suddenly the whole bar erupts as a LOT of guys in the back spew out of the kitchen. The Little Blue Super Jew is heading up the group of good guys made up of LBSJ, Abordar, Mitch Brzezinski and even Cadwell has come out in his Captain Wonder outfit.]

S: ‘Till next time!

[Sherrick dives out of the ring as the Babyface Patrol are out in full force. Brzezinski, wrench in hand, chases after Sherrick. But Sherrick is too quick as he bolts out the door into the cold Halifax weather before anyone can get their hands on him.

End of show.]

©2004 BOB Wrestling. If not completely confused, spin around three times and click your knuckles together.

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