|Scene: About a month after SMC 13... Dingwall, Nova Scotia, Canada|
[The sWo have trekked over hills of snow... past mooses... meeses... moosies... past multiple members of the moose family, and maple trees... thousands and thousands of maple trees... and have finally fallen asleep outside a Canadian crackhouse. Canadian Crackhouses: Where the snow's as white as the snow! Hooker T is playing a game of dice with G.I. Slow, and both are losing. The Arby's Boyz are seeing who can bury themselves the furthest into the snow... naked... and da Downsidaz are standing around a trash can, lit on fire, and are chillin'.]
Def: I's chillin'.
Razor: Yo, yo, yo, I's be chillin' like a BILLIN'!
Trabel: Yo... I think I just froze one of my nuts off...
Vince: Guys, I'm a thousand f#$^in' miles away from home... And I'm freezin' my d$#n @$% off ova' he'. I'm beginnin' ta think this ain't Texas.
Double Gay: Slappy, what gave ya that idea, slappy? That the slappyin' ground was covered in slappy snow? This is a bunch a' bs. I'm the Choosy One here, and STILL the slappy @ss Russo is leadin' me on a wild slap chase. Screw all yall slapnuts, I'm headin' into the slappin' crackhouse. See ya slappys in a couple of slappys.
Reeve: ... Did anyone understand a WORD he just said?
Hack: Not one word, brother.
Vince: Ya know... I just had an idea. Why don't we all have the show he' in this crackhouse?
Reeve: ... I think you may have already had a trip inside...
Vince: Naw, seriously Reevie. You think Big Boss would have the balls to host a show in a CRACKHOUSE? Naaaw. He's a pussy! He's not an innovata... but Vinny-Ru is, baby! Hell... I think I just had the ultimate idea fah the 20 man jobbah royale. We can round up all the crackheads, throw 'em in the ring, and have 'em kick the sh%t outa eachotha'. And the last crackhead standing... will get the shot at Triple S in the main event!
Reeve: Vince... I can't believe it... You, my man, have outdone yourself!
Vince: Aw, shucks Reeve. It's all in a day's work...
Enter the Vortex
[We open to the crackhouse... my God what has this business come to... Ahem, we open to the crackhouse, where a ring has been set up, with a couple of benches here and there where the crackheads and little crackbabies sit, prepared for the greatest show to ever hit BoB airwaves. Is that Rick James I see in the third row....]
[We head over to the announce table, which is actually just a regular table with a shower curtain draped over the side... Ya know, for this being an sWo show, it's not that much better than anything BigB has ever produced... and that's just plain sad, I tell ya what.]
Good ol' BJ: Welcome folks to the first ever presentation Dubbya Dubbya E! Folks, this is gonna be one HELLuva tunabaker, where titles will be on da line, and dem dar bodies is gonna be whipped like a Government Mule. Or the Baby Jesus.
Vince: Hell yeah! Now we're bound to bring in some recahd breakin' ratings! You keep it up Ben, and ya gonna get a raise!!!
BJ: Why, thank ya kindly Mr. Russo. And along with Unlce Vinny, I'm joined by Reeve Gordon, one of the sWo's premier athletes. Reeve, what are your feelings heading in to tonight?
Reeve: I just hope we don't tank as bad as the Stanley Cup. I mean... come on, losing to Smackdown? SMACKDOWN?!
BJ: And with that, we head over to the ring for our first match...
Jack Hoff: Lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllladies and gentlemen... tonight, the sWo, in conjunction with water, proudly brings to you We Win Everything!
Water: Quit being a bitch and DRINK IT!
JH: The first contest is scheduled for one fall, and is scheduled for a ten minute time limit. Already in the ring, she weighs in at 1 pound, and is the former valet of former WWE superstar Perry Saturn... Please give a warm round of applause for... Moppy! [The camera pans across from Jack, to show Moppy leaning against the turnbuckle] And... his opponent, weighing in at 215 super sexy pounds... he is a former twenty-two time CMT "Best Cute Gay Guy in a Music Video" award winning musician... THE Choosy One, Double Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!
["I ain't too proud to be a redneck, but I ain't not proud to be gay" by some guy named Jeff strikes up on a crackhead's stereo in the front row. Boy... Russo went all out on this one. Double Gay walks through the double doors from the bitter cold outside, into the comfortably warm building... Cheaply Manufactured (c) guitar raised in one hand, peace sign in the other. The sign reads "Make love, not wrestle. Preferably man-on-man love." Which begs the question... what's the difference?]
[Double Gay steps through the ropes and into the ring, staring across at the mop in the corner... and he giggles.]
Gay: You have GOT to be kidding me... Well, a pay check's a pay check.
[Gay walks across the ring, smashes the guitar over the mop, instantly dropping it to the canvas. Double Gay gingerly places a boot on the mop's handle, and a-one, and a-two, and a-one, two, three... uh... three. The ref raises Double Gay's hand in the air.]
Vince: There's my boy!
Reeve: I thought I was your boy?
Vince: There's my second boy!
Reeve: I thought Triple S was your second boy?
Vince: Let's hear it for the kid in the pink shorts!
Water: If it ain't broke, don't fix it. And if it's filled with silvery tasting minerals that you'd prefer not passing into your system... QUIT BEIN' A BITCH, AND DRINK IT!!!
BJ: Folks, this har next match up is gunna be a ROCKETBREAKER, By Dawgs. It's our fav-o-ryt tag team champeens o' da wurl, against... THE WORLD!!!
VR: Yeah, that's right ya damn fuckasses! My guys, Hack and Slash, ah' gonna moidalize every single tag team that walks down that aisle!!! And I'm sure the BoB bitches ah' pissin' their pants in the back right now!
Reeve: Vinnie, how many more matches are on this card?
VR: About 3, sweet haht, why ya ask?
Reeve: Cuz I want to console Double Gay.
VR: But he won...
Reeve: And your point?
["American Woman" by Lenny Kravitz blares across the speakers, as the crowd is on their feet, and throwing the broken crackpipes at this feared and loathed tandem! Yes, Hack and Slash, the reigning Four-play champions. Of course, they haven't defended the straps since winning them... but that's nothing unusual here in good ol' BoB! Hack stands center stage, strumming his air guitar in the middle of the shining black and white lights... before kicking off an extended air drum solo... and finishing off with a moving air saxaphone piece. He's simply magnificent, ain't he? So, so talented... Slash walks by his side, as they head to the ring, before they both walk into the squared-circle over the top rope. They accidentally get tripped up though, before crothching themselves, and dropping to the canvas.]
[And as soon as the bumbling geezers go night-night, "Lose Yourself", the Green Lantern Remix, strikes up a chord, and here comes the newest team on the face of... absolutely no federation whatsoever at all; SuperJon and SuperSean!!! The Super-Dee-Dupers! AKA, two dorks wearing nothing but beach towels and cotton underwear. The Super-Dee-Dupers stampede down the ramp, slide in under the bottom rope... and catch a leg to the back of both of their necks! The tag champions roll the SDD's on their backs, and go for a double pin! Referee Goldie Sparxx drops down to count the fall: 1........... 2.......... 3!!! The Super-Dee-Dupers have been eliminated!!!]
["Sharoooooooooooooon!!!". 'No More Tears' plays, and out comes... Ozzy Osbourne?! By himself, no less. Ozzy looks drunk off his @ss, and... seems to be wandering off into the crowd of crackheads... Uhm... ok... Well, he's counted out, as he seems to be talking over the progress of the 'Osbournes, volume 2' DVD... with a guy that doesn't seem to understand a word the Ozzman sayeth. Whether it's because he can't even see his own hand in front of his face at this point... or because, well, it's Ozzy, is anyone's guess. Anyway, after the ref reaches the ten, 'Sculder and Mully' plays over the speakers, and a blinding flash of light emits from an unknown source... and every member in the house's eyes are instantly glossed over. Wait... weren't they already like that? ... I seem to have forgotten...]
[The Agency emerge from the front door of the crackhouse, wearing long black trenchcoats and black shades, flashing memory erasers in everyone's eyes on their way to the ring. Dunno why, I'd be surprised if these folks can remember where they live by now... if anywhere. Mully slides in first, stands up and catches a big boot to the mush. Mul stumbles backwards, and topples over the top rope to the outside. Hack waves his hands, motionging for Sculder to make his move. Scul slides in, Slash goes for a legdrop, but Scul's quick and rolls out of the way. Slash falls on his butt, and yelps in pain. I think he broke something! Wouldn't surprise me, anyway... Scul springs up, and dropkicks Slash in the side, sending him rolling out of the ring. Hack drops an axe handle over Scul's back. Seriously! Where the hell'd he GET that thing... Scul falls to his knees, and Hack swings once more... breaking the axe handle clean in half over Scul's back!!! Scul drops to the canvas, and Hack goes for the pin... Mul slowly gets back to his feet, and leaps through the air to try and pull Hack out under the bottom rope... but he's too late. The Agency have been eliminated!!!]
['All the things she said, all the things she said, all the things she said', and so on and so forth. Who could THIS possibly be? Couldn't be Victoria from WWE, she totally dropped that song, along with any chance at being taken seriously. But I don't mean to go off on a RANT here...]
BJ: OH HOLY JESUS ABOVE!!! HE'S FINALLY HERE!!!
VR: Ben, calm down, the hot dog vendor came over as fast as he could.
BJ: I know, dal garn it, but my tummy's been a-growlin' fer ages. I think the stench in this place is gettin' ta me...
VR: Well, it couldn't be any worse than that giant trailah pahk ya call a state back home. Now stuff that sausage down ya piggy mouth so I can hea' myself think ova' he'.
BJ: Yes sir.
[Well, it looks as though "All the things she said" was just played for intermission while Mully scraped Sculder off the mat and took him away... how dissapointing. 'Who can it be now' plays. And we KNOW who it is now: Fart Blanche! Flatulence and Nastyass rush down the ring full steam ahead, ready to take those titles off the waists off of the sWo... but before they can get to the ring, GF begins to slow down his pace... before stopping dead in his tracks. He clenches his stomach... before bending over... and *FRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!*, holy SH!T!!! Litteraly, I think Flatulence may have blown out alot more than mere gas in that one... and the smell is so bad even NASTYASS is holding his nose! We turn to the ring, where Hack reaches into his pocket... and pulls out a bottle of Super Ex-lax!!!]
Stinkbutt: Oh hell... I just KNEW there was something wrong with those burritos that Burrito Salesman brought by the lockeroom... Should've learned by now to never accept food backstage in the middle of a wrestling show!!! DAMN YOU, HACK! DAMN-YOU-STRAIGHT-*FRAAAAAP*!!!
[Well, it looks like that's three teams down, as the ref has called this one a no-contest due to excessive mud loss. Hey, he said it, I just call it as it happens.]
['I'm Too Sexy' plays, and here comes the sWo's own Right Sed Ed, and his partner, the man that saved Vince Russo from a flaming tower of three trailers back at Wrasslemania 48, Jaleel White! And to go along with the 20th anniversary of Family Matters (I don't know if that's true, but hey, it's not like anyone watched it long enough to keep track), Jaleel is wearing his old Urkle outfit! Of course, the get-up's about five sizes too small, and his ass is pulled up even higher than I remember, but he's Urkle, dammit! The Urk and Ed make their way down the aisle, and stand up on the apron. Hack and Slash fly toward them with the clotheslines... but Urk and Ed both duck down, headbutt the champs in the gut, and go for the simultaneous sunset flip!!! 1... 2... kickout on both sides! The titles just about changed hands! Urk mounts Hack and starts driving in the right fists... and damn, I never thought I'd see the day that Urkle actually fought without breaking something... like his hands. Urkle is ripping Hack Hogan apart like an unchained animal!!! Yeah, you read that right. Urkle picks himself up, grabs Hack by the wrist, and starts chewing away on Hack's bare flesh!!! Slash and Ed are just looking at Urk as if he's gone off his rocker. I think he may have had one too many slices of cheese... Ed, suddenly remembering he's an sWo lackey, decides to pull Urkle off Hack... but as Ed rips Urkle's head off Hack's arm... a piece of Hack's skin comes off as well! Urk spits out the torn flesh, and stares at Ed with blood red eyes... before he rushes forth with a-
BJ: GORE! GORE!! GORE!!! Urkle just speared Right Sed Ed right outa his size 13's, and straight into the flaming pits of hades!!!
VR: You need ta take ya rittalin, Ben, ya jumpin' all ova' da place, ova' he'.
Reeve: He's getting me all hot and bothered, Vince. I'm getting soo wet...
VR: Ya can't get wet, Reeve, yer a guy, ya knucklead.
Reeve: For now, anyways. My birthday's still a week away.
[Ed crumples to the mat, holding his stomach, and spewing blood all over the place. Urkle slaps the taste out of Right Sed, before rolling out of the ring, and stomping up the ramp with a determined look on his face... that's one mean motha'dorker. Maybe his suspenders were on a bit too tight... Anyway, Slash easily gets the pin on Ed. But after pinning Ed, it's obvious that Slash is pained from that fall on his ass he suffered a few moments back, and Hack is... well... what's the closest thing to dead? Of course, he wasn't that much better off before the match, but...]
[A streak of pyro falls from the ceiling, and sets off before the front door... setting off a five-alarm fire. After the extinguishers are broken out and the back row of crackheads has been hosed off (and boy did they need that...), the door busts down, and in comes... the Drudley Boyz!!!]
Styles: OH MY GOD!!!
BJ: HEY! That's my line!
Styles: Sorry, chief.
[D-Van and Rubba Ray lift up the four fingers, and the crackheads have come alive! Seriously, it looked like we had a morgue on our hands just a second ago... I wonder how these guys have even HEARD of the Drudz... Rubba Ray slides into the ring first, and looks down at the tag title holders... who are wheezing and gasping for air on the mat. Rubba smiles slickly, and drops an elbow clean on Slash's chest. Slash lets out a deep sigh, the big man being winded already in this one. Well, he takes after his big cousin, and I think we all know who THAT is, heheh. ... Devin Slash. Who else? D-Van runs into the ring with a chair, and bangs it a few times on the mat. Hack slowly rises to his feet, turns around, and WACK!!! Hack drops like a sack of bricks! Thankfully it was before the chair connected, and D-Van accidentally slammed the steel into the back of his four and one half brother from the left once removed, divided by pi. Rubba drops to his knees, and D-Van releases the chair to the canvas, holding his mouth in terror.]
D-Van: Oh, my brotha'. I have surely forsaken thee! May I be cast away into the very depths of the netherworld, never to seek comfort in thine arms again, for I art so wretched that I should strike down a steel iron upon mine own flesh! Ohhhh testiiff- *THWACK!!!*
[Suddenly, from behind, a chair came a-clatterin' down on D-Van's head... by the very hands of none other than Vincent RUSSO!!! Yes, Vinny-Ru was tired of all the religous gibberish coming out of D-Van's mouth, so he had to slam a chair against the guy to shut him up.]
VR: This is just a two hour show, jackoff!!! We gotsta make time fah the crackhead battle royale, we can't mess around with stupid ass PROMOS! Leave that work to the proffesionals. I.E., Triple S. Now, Slash, pin this bastahd so's I can go back tah makin' rude comments in reference to Ben's weight problem. On the double!
[Slash pulls himself over D-Van, and gets a 1... 2... Rubba tries to break it up, but Vince lays him out with the chair, and 3!!! Drudleyz are GONE! Vince lays in the stomps to move the broz. out of his ring, before taking the microphone. Wait, what does he have to say now? I thought he said we DIDN'T have time for stupid ass promos?]
VR: HEY!!! I heard that! And this is NOT a stupid ass promo, because it's one a MY promos, ME, the Anti-christ of Sports Entertainment!!! Now, sit it, shut it, and listen. There's only one more tag team in this match, and I want to give them a special introduction. They are the pissiest, whiniest, BITCHIEST suck-asses in this ENTIRE federation, and deserve to be analy raped by Festering Death, 24/7. In fact, there needs to be more hours added to the day just to fit in how much these guys need ta be SCREWED!!! They hail from a shit hole of a university, where only the most RETAHDED idiots in the nation, no, in the WORLD would EVER even THINK about attending! And sometime in the nea' future, I hope ta GOD they blow up in eachotha's face like all the otha' teams in this biz, and rip each otha's larynx's out, just so they don't degrade this sport any further than they already have. Ladies and gents, please welcome, the former tag team champs, former because they hadn't eva' defended those titles that grace Hack and Slash's wonderful waists against the s to the W to the o until they wa' FORCED to... Brandon 'Bitchy-ass Baby Batterer' Barbarino, and Jim 'the Jughead' Jackson... the Krappy Kock-suckin' Klowns, or the K... K... K!!! God, I love this show.
["It's Raining Men" plays over the stereo, and Brandon and Jim are... running down the ramp with fury in their eyes!! They roll into the ring, and INSTANTLY go after Vince before he has a chance to get out of the ring! Brandon tosses Russo into the ropes, lifts him up in a flapjack, and BAM! Jim performs a bicycle kick, with some wicked air, kicking Russo over into a powerbomb by Brandon! Russo crushes down against the canvas... and the Kent Staters head up top! Before flying off, with a leg drop from Brandon, and a senton bomb from Jim! They are totally taking it to Russo! But... uh... he's not really in the match, is he?]
Reeve: Hold my headset, Ben, I've got some business to take care of.
BJ: Sure thing, boss.
[Where's Reeve heading to? Wait... ohhhh. Reeve pulls the chair inside the ring out, without anyone notcing him... before stepping up onto the ring apron. Brandon and Jim hook Russo by the throat and lift him into the air... but Jim catches Reeve out of the corner of his eye. He shouts at Reeve to get the heck out of dodge, but Reeve won't listen. And so, Jim lets go his grip, and walks toward Reeve... who hops off the apron, and slides the chair under the bottom rope, and past Jim's legs... *BASH!!!* Slash brings the chair over Jim's back, and the KSK member drapes over the top rope. Brandon is busy on the outside giving his autograph to a hot broad with basically a shoelace over her breasts, leaving Jim to be school-boyed by the practically lifeless Hack... And Jim MUST have taken that chair hard, because he just succumbed to the weakest pin since Stone Cold beat Owen Hart. And folks... what can I say. Hack and Slash have retained the titles against 7 teams. Well... 6 teams, and Ozzy...]
[And speak of the devil... Ozzy is stumbling and bumbling his way toward the ring, with luggage stickers from all over the nation stuck on his clothes and skin. Boy, that guy sure gets around... Ozzy walks up to the ring, and starts making out with the turnbuckle, when a piece of white crap falls from the air... hey, a bat! And he flies toward Ozzy, and... ooo, that's gotta hurt... Ozzy spits out the blood, along with a mangled head, and throws the body over his shoulder for good luck. Ozz then rolls into the ring and stumbles over to Reeve, Russo, Hack, and Slash, who are all celebrating in the middle of the ring. Ozz walks over to Russo... and hugs him. Before barfing on his New York Yankees shirt. Russo's eyes widen like a couple of venus flytraps, and the Ru backs up a few steps. Ozzy follows Russo, holding his arms out for a great big hug...]
[Reeve with the chairshot to the back of Ozzy's head!!! Ozzy stumbles forward, right into Russo's arms. Russo pats Ozzy on the back, who is now totally blacked out... before shoving him off... Ozzy turns around, right into the-
BJ: FREEDOM KISS! FREEDOM KISS! BY GAWD FREEDOM KISS! Reeve just locked on that dad gum freedom kiss, and he's litterally sucking the life straight out of the Ozzman!!! Reeve leaps forward, and the two bodies collide with the canvas, and Reeve is goin' at it like a scalded dog bathin' in barbecue-sauce!!! BY GAWD!!!!!
[Reeve drapes his hair over the leader of the Osbournes... before pulling his mouth off, and folks, Ozzy's greyer than a stormy sky. Reeve rises up, and lifts the tag champs hands into the air, as Russo smiles devilishly in the background. The sWo is dominating the hell out of WWE... And folks, this one's just begun.]
Water: There's plenty of fish in the sea. And they all have to go to the bathroom sometime. Just sayin. ... DRINK IT!!!
[We open backstage, which is basically the alleyway. A couple of bums are playing dice to determine who gets the other half of a dead rat, and a tv dinner tray is set up in front of a cotton footstool... Where there sits Tony Spaghetti, the WWE GM in charge of... well... on-air promos 'booking' matches that have actually already been pre-drawn out of the 'Hat of Randomness'. Tony looks straight ahead, at someone off camera...]
Tony: So, you really think you're ready for the big time?
Tony: You think you can handle the big dogs?
Tony: You think you can take that title?
Tony: From around Trips' waist?
Tony: Just say yeah.
Tony: .... Well?
Tony: ... Just sign here, and you'll be entered as number 20.
Tony: There... and... there ya go. Before you go, do you have any questions?
Voice: Yuu... If I may query, would you happen to have a slight idea about what this elaborate construction referred to as a "Hell-o in a Jell-o" may be, my good sir?
Tony: Uhm... that's still being worked out. Now, you're on.
Voice: Okaaaaay!!! Byeeee!!!
Tony: *sigh* What a pointless segment...
BJ: BY GAWD!!! IT'S... IT'S... Who was that, folks?! It's completely unbeknownst to me! Well, I'd say we're gonna have to wait till the next match up, the first EVER 20 Crackhead Over-thetop elimination Battle Royale, for the WORLD Job-a-thon title! All 20 crackheads are in the ring, save one, who as we've just witnessed, will be revealed in only a few moments, but until that splendiferous occasion, this har's the full list of the 19 crackheads in the ring: Boner T., Crotch Hall, Big Scratchy, The Cock, Eddie Tequito, Ass Hat Bitchy Bunns, Dan Van Dam (DVD), Bluff Blagwell, 'The Resteraunt Franchise' Shane Fugly-ous, Dance Storm and Justin Eddible - the Not Ready For Prime Time Players, hYpo, Big Chito / Johnny Zamboni / Little Nunzio / Chunk Agumbo - The In Bred Italians, or IBI, Kake and the Undeadtaker, and of course: Jippy Jam the Japanese Jughead!!! All of these men are in the ring, so let's get this party rolli-
[Suddenly, "Get Low" by Lil Jon flares up over the stereo, and the crackheads in the ring and around the ring are shocked as they see, none other than, LIL JON walking into the building through the door!!!]
BJ: BY GAWD!!! THAT MUST BE WHO MR. SPAGHETTI WAS TALKIN' TO! WELL GAAAAAA - AAAAWLY!!!
[Lil Jon, wearing his Mr. T customary kit, from the golden chains... right down to the golden toof. Jon raises the roof, and the crackheads in attendance are... well, they still seem to be shocked. Or have they just been like that for the last half hour, and I've not noiced... Jon walks up the ringsteps, and looks in at his opponents... And the weird thing is, not ONE of the participants in this 20 man match has EVER had a single wrestling match! ... Yeah, I know. Sad, isn't it. And one of these bums is main-eventing.]
[The bell is rung, and it's a pier-sixer in this ring. Boner T is taking it to Little Nunzio, the squinty-eyed midget crackhead with anorexia. Boner starts chopping away on LN... before hitting a Dingwall Sidekick, knocking LN to the mat. Boner goes for the cover... and folks, let's all say it at the same time: IDIOT! You can only eliminate someone by tossing them over the top rope!!! What a moron! ... Oh wait, he just did it. Little Nunzio has been eliminated! Well, Boner's just a slow learner, that's all...]
[On the other side of the ring, Kake and Big Scratchy, the biggest, baddest, toughest, roughest crackheads of 'em all, are simplying tearing eachother apart! Seriously! I didin't know we had a couple of lepers in this match! The Big Strawberry Dessert & Scratchy lay in pieces on the ring... and have just been eliminated over the top rope by the cleaning crew's dustpan! This match is degenerating quicker than... well... than those two just did! Boner T just rammed into Ass Hat from behind. Boner backs up, and rams right into Ass once more, before laying it in hard on Bunns. Boner drives his size ten right into Ass's rear, but Ass turns around and engulfs Boner's head... with a rally of fists. Ass goes up and down... up and down... up and down... and Ass is bleeding! Boner's head was so hard he made Ass bleed! His fists are soaked in crimson.]
[Crotch Hall comes up from behind Boner... and Boner and Crotch collide! Boner to Crotch, Crotch to Boner, Crotch drives himself into Boner, Ass comes up from behind... but Boner comes around and thrusts into Ass once more... Ass falls like a sack of bricks... and Boner drops a load all over Ass! Yes, that's right, Boner just reachd a climax all up inside Ass! Boner has covered Ass all over... with a vicous splash from above! Boner picks Ass up, and tosses Ass over the top rope... turns around... and WAMMO! Dropkick from Crotch, sending Boner up and over, and both Ass AND Boner have been eliminated. Anyone have a napkin...]
[The Undeadtaker whips Big Chito into the one turnbuckle... Johnny Zamboni into another... and Chunk Agumbo into one other. TUR runs toward Chito- CLOTHESLINE! Toward Zamboni- CLOTHESLINE! And finally, toward Agumbo- ONE... MORE... TIME!!! All three of the mooks stumble forward toward the center of the ring... right into eachother, bumping heads, and dropping to the canvas! Undead bounces off one set of ropes, the other, the third, and finally, when all three mafia rejects make it toward the ropes, pulling on them for leverage... Undead bounces off the final set, and leaps into the air, catching them all with the flying somersault clothesline!!! IBI is GONE!!!]
[The Cock is throwing right after right at Eddie Tequito, before reeling back, and landing a fist, right to Eddie's kisser, sending him toppling over the top rope! But no sooner is Mexican Meat shown the door, than does Ass Hat run into Cock like a rabid pit bull... or atleast, TRY to that is. Cock simply steps to the side, and Ass Hat topples over, saving us from any further idiotic double entendres. Oh hell... here comes Crotch with a flying clothesline... and this time, Cock doesn't sense it, and quickly goes down. Crotch goes down on Cock, and starts slapping the Cock around like a wet hotdog. ... What does that even MEAN?! The writer's getting desperate... Crotch pulls Cock to his feet, and lifts him up... The Condom's Tip!!! Crotch just hit the Condom's Tip!!! He turns around from the fallen Cock, taunting to the near-blind crackheads... but Cock quickly nippups, and gets into the ready to hit HIS finisher... Crotch turns around, and... THE BIG FINISH!!! Aka, a modified Rock Bottom. MODIFIED, DAMMIT!!!]
[Cock goes to toss Crotch overboard, but-
BJ: GORE! GORE!! GORE!!! hYpo just gored Cock AND Crotch straight... to... hades!!!
[Yes, Cock, with Crotch in front of him, was sent backfirst into the mat with hYpo's gore. And now, both members... of... well... ok, they're just members, but no matter what, they're both coughing up blood. hYpo pulls Cock to his feet, and drapes him over the ropes... sends Crotch into the other set of ropes... and moves out of the way, as Crotch comes back into Cock, and BOTH men tumble to the outside!!! hYpo has rid the match of two great stars of... well... of the wonderful world of crack. ... What?]
[hYpo stares over the top rope, at all the bodies scattered on the floor below... before being pushed over by... the Undeadtaker! Undead has defeated FOUR men! And technically, since hYpo finished off two men, Undead's score is now 6-0 at We Win Everything! Undead's streak continues! The Half-Day of Destruction is Alive! Undead may just go... all... the... wa- UH OH! Spoke too soon. DVD just leaped off the turnbuckle with a ninja-style kick, rocking Undead over the top rope... DVD does the splits... and pulls his groinial area. But wait... Undead WAS sent over the top rope... but he landed on the apron! He rolls back into the ring, while DVD is still locked in the splits... and UDT decidedes to just leave him there for punishment. On the other side, Bluff Blagwell soars off the post, and hits the Bluff Blockbluster on Dance Storm! The Canadian Convict Dance Storm doesn't sell though because, hey, this is Canada! ... Of course, all the other men in this match hail from the same country, but Dance is the most openly Canadian... yeah, that's the ticket... And so, Dance soaks up a nice round of 'almost-sorta-close-to-not-being-completely-comatose' from the jam-packed crowd. Bluff sneaks up from behind... but Dance whips around with a swift and deadly sidekick! That knocks Bluff right out of the ring! Dance actually eliminated someone!]
Don McKingly: Only in Canadia!!! Eh?!
[Well, it's down to six men: DVD, Shane Fugly-ous, Dance Storm, Justin Eddible, Jippy Jam, and Lil Jon. Dance struts over to Dan with an air of confidence, and turns him over, locking in the Canadian Marijuana Leaf, which is legal in all providences, and may be used on ALL ages! How lucky for... Dance. Especially if he wants to break any Canadian child actor's ankles. ... Not saying he'd want to... just stating a fact. DVD almost immediately taps, but submissions do NOT count, so DVD's just going to have to take this like he took that stupid acrobat move he tried a while ago. And the dumbass is actually going for the ropes... he must be the BIGGEST crackhead in this entire establishment. AND THIS IS A CRACKHOUSE!!! Aw well. On the other side, Shane Fugly-ous and Justin Eddible are trading rights and lefts. Now, why exactly they'd want to trade socks and shoes is anyone's guess, but that's what they're doing, right in the middle of the ring, and folks, you can only catch action like this on WWE!!! After succesfully making a barter for Shane's right wristband for Justin's left nut (what? he's a mechanic), the two shakes hands, turn around, and DROPKICK from Jippy Jam! Both men fly out of the ring, at a super cool dropkick from the Jam Man, who's just now decided to make his prescence known! One half of the Not Ready for Prime Time Players has been eliminated, while on the other side of the ring- ... wait... DVD just threw Dance over the top! DAMNIT, WHY COULDN'T THE CAMERA HAVE CUT AWAY SOONER!!! These things ALWAYS happen in battle royales! That's why I fughin' HATE these things! ALLLWAYS!!! DVD turns around... dropkick from Jippy Jam! Dance has been eliminated! And it's down to two!!! Jippy Jam the Japanese Jughead... and Lil Jon! Jippy runs toward Jon in the corner... but Jon drops to a knee, and uppernuts the hell out of Jippy's nether regions! Lil Jon grabs Jam by the hair, and... throws him over the top!!! Lil Jon has won!!!!! LIL JON IS THE #1 CONTENDER!!! OHMIGAW!!!]
BJ: OH BY GAWD!!! Lil Jon, the actor, the singer, the man that did the absolute LEAST in the entire match, has won the entire rumble! WHAT A TUNABAKER!!!!!
Water: Just think. There are people in other countries that would KILL to have the water we Americans enjoy. Those people are called "Mexicans".
- LOADING FIELD OF PLAY: 21%... 39%... 43%... 60%... 57%... 56%... 55%... 55.1%... 72%... 75%... 75%... 75%... 89%... 99%... -
- PLANE 1, SECTOR =A= ACTIVATED / LOADING PLAYERS... -
[The camera comes back from commercial to a loading screen. It seems as though Russo left Francis at Gordon Gardens just in case Trey Vincent would reschedule their plane flight to Dingwall, Nova Scotia, Canada, and they'd have to be forced to connect the match from a crackhouse in the middle of the frozen tundra. See? Uncle Vinny thinks of EVERYTHING. While Francis is being loaded in from the arcade, Doc Azatoth has equipped Atomo with his very own mobile Vortex unit. It looks alot like one of those old, crappy Virtual Boys, but trust me, this one's a whole helluva lot better. The Doc inserted the color grey to the standard palette of red and black. He's a genius.]
[Atomo seems to be loaded in first. The Living Robot takes a survey of his surroundings... which is basically a stretch of black, and the flat, red platform he's standing on. Atomo walks toward the edge to look downward... when he feels a kick to the can! He flings off the platform, and sails through the infinite void... as Francis laughs heartily from the platform.]
Francis: Vortex! Give me one of those cool surfboards the Silver Surfer uses! STAT!
[And so he said it, and so was it done. Francis flies through the air, onward and up... er... downward, toward the still failling, falling body of metal. Francis zips through the air, and finally plucks Atomo out of the air, grasping the bot in his arms.]
Atomo: UNIT: Vortex. EQUIP-UNIT: ATOMO-WITH-SURFBOARD.
[An ice blue surfboard with a hot pink stripe down the middle falls out of the air, and crashes into Francis's head, knocking HIM into the void. Atomo grabs the board up in his arms. Not exactly what he was expecting, I'm sure. But, it did the trick. Atomo leaps into the air, with the new board under his feet... and he plummets through the air. Well... that sucks.]
Atomo [plummeting faster than Pauly Shore's credibility]: UNIT: Vortex. CREATE-SOLID-SCAPE. Command: ASAP.
[Atomo slams backfirst into... a beach. The board falls through the air, and smacks Atomo in the mouth... hole. Uh... Francis is splashing around in the water before the beach. Atomo stands up, and walks toward the water, with board in hand... before taking to the water with the board under his feet. And this being the Vortex, and him being a robot, he takes instant speed, soaring off into Francis, cracking Francis's skull with the tip of the board. Francis goes under, and Atomo sails on... right into a huge rock! Atomo falls backwards, into the murky depths, and thrashes wildly... before sinking under.]
Francis [finally pulling his head up from the water]: *gasp* VORTEX! Get us somewhere a bit more dry! ON THE DOUBLE!
[The two instantly pop up... in the middle of a desert. Welp, he asked for dry... Francis picks Atomo up by the antennae, and hooks him into the front chancery... before picking him up and slamming him down with the vertical suplex, sending sand into the air. Francis mounts Atomo, and starts pounding away with the fists... Franics rears back, and bitchslaps Atomo like a whore who's been late one too many times with her pimpdaddy's cash. Francis gets up, walks off a bit... before rushing in, and leapins into the air with a HUUUGE body splash! But Atomo rolls out of the way, and Francis picks up a moutful of sand! Francis quickly rolls onto his back and spits out as much as he can, before wiping his toungue off with his hand. Francis starts gagging, and Atomo loads up a laughter file.]
Atomo: UNIT: Vortex. PLEASE-AQUIRE-A-BAT. TO-FURTHER-INSURE-NO-MISTAKES-OCCUR-CREATE-A-LONG-BLACK-BAT. UNIT: Atomo-THANKS-YOU.
[A cloud of smoke appears, before a long, black bat emerges... and folks, when Atomo SAID "long, black bat", I don't think he meant a greatly endowed flying rat. And when I say endowed, I mean this thing's PACKING! That's gotta be the biggest bat dic- ... er... excuse'. The bat zings down at Atomo, who starts running in the opposite direction. Francis starts busting a gut... but the bat senses the Dark Clown's voice, and turns around, heading straight for Fran... his mighty bat bat pointed forward. Francis opens his eyes after laughing for about five minutes, and his eyes widen... and so does his mouth, which was quite the poor move on Fran's part, if you catch my drift. The bat carries Francis up by the mouth, and Francis is gagging AGAIN... only, I think this is the worse of the two instances, by just a wee bit. Well... I dunno 'bout "wee"... Atomo is now the one laughing.]
Francis *muffled*: Gif me outuf heaw!!! NAAA!!!!
Vortex: Does not compute.
Francis: DAHMIT!!! GIMMEFOUTUFHEAW!!!
Vortex: Does not compute.
Atomo: HA-HA-HA. HA-HA-HA. HA-HA-HA. UNIT: Francis-IS-ON-A-BAD-TRIP. HA-HA-HA. UNIT: Atomo-MADE-A-JOKE. UNIT: Vortex-TRANSPORT-TO-CASTLE-ROOFTOP.
[Francis and Atomo appear on top of a stone castle roof. Both are now clad in knight's armor... odd that Atomo would need armor, seeing as how his entire BODY's basically a coat of arms... And they both hold a sword in hand. Atomo, a huge, double-edged monstrosity... while Francis holds a thin foil. Atomo is in the best position possible... Atomo swings with the sword, and Fran ducks under... sending the sword crashing into a tower, shaking it just a little. Fran thrusts with the foil, but Atomo rolls out of the way, and Fran hits nothing but a flag pole, wobbling the foil as well as himself. Atomo swings with the sword once more, but Fran backflips up and over the robo', landing behind him, and poking him in the mechanized butt with the foil. Atomo lets out a shriek... which is very odd, seeing as how his butt's supposed to be made out of iron. Maybe it's just his advanced pain recognition sensors kicking in... Fran slashes the feather off Atomo's helmet, before picking it up, dabbing it in the leaking oil from Atomo's booty... Fran writes something on Atomo's back... looks like 'Kick Me'.]
Fran: Don't mind if I do!
[Francis shuffle kicks Atomo forward, right through a stain glass window! Atomo falls down, down, down, crashing into an organ. Francis leaps into the air, foil in one hand, and dropping an elbow with the other arm... Francis soars down, and connects!!! With the organ, as Atomo has rolled off already. Francis rolls off as well, right on top of Atomo's stomach, and the ref [dressed in a striped jester's uniform] makes the count: 1................ 2................]
Atomo: UNIT: Vortex. Command: LET'S-GO-TO-WALLY-WORLD!!!
[POOF! And they're both instantly in a Wal-Mart. Atomo, appropriately enough in the electronics department, while Francis... seems to be dressed up as the cashier.]
Atomo: Query: HOW-MUCH-FOR-UNIT: Driver 3.
Francis: That'll be 39.99... plus a swift kick to your shiny, metal ass!
Atomo: UNIT: Francis. LOADING FILE: Shock and Dismay.
[Francis hops on top of the counter, and comes down with an ax handle smash (as this time it's actually the move) over Atomo's rusty cranium. Atomo stumbles backward, into a shelf of video game magazines. Francis goes for a knife-edge chop... but Atomo ducks, and Francis knocks an entire rack of EGM's to the floor.]
Wl-Mart worker: You're pickin' that up!
Francis: WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Shut up.
[Francis goes to kick the crouching Atomo... but Atomo military rolls out of the way, and Fran's foot gets stuck in the shelf... Atomo spears Francis right out of his boot, freeing him from the shelf, but sending his back slammalammin' into a shelf of computer software. A dozen or so cd cases fall on Fran's head, and he falls to his knees. Atomo gets back a few, before running in, and hitting a perfect Shining Wizard, slapping the taste out of Fran's mouth. Fran falls flat on his face, and Atomo performs a standing moonsault, knocking the wind out of the Dark Clown. Atomo picks Francis up by the hair, and whips him right into a glass case of PS2 games... and the glass shatters upon collision with Fran's body. Fran's head remains stuck inside the case... and Atomo goes for a german suplex... sending not only Francis through the air, but the case as well!!! The huge display falls right ontop of the both of them, and a ginormous crash ricochets throughout the area. All eyes are on this scene... and the ref tries deperately to remove the shelf to free Atomo and Francis... After about ten minutes, the wreckage is finally clear, and both bodies are torn apart. But, through it all, Francis drapes an arm over Atomo... and gets a 2 count. Francis pins the shoulder back to the floor, and picks up another 2 count. Francis stands up and starts putting the boots... well... boot, to Atomo, before leaving the electronics, and heading off to the toy section.]
[Atomo finally wakes up, and follows in Fran's footsteps. He makes it halfway there, when a GIGANTIC red ball comes a-bouncin' his way. Atomo loads 'horror', and turns around to run... when he sees the sporting goods department. Atomo quickly runs over and picks up a crossbow, before targeting the oncoming ball... letting go... and POP!!! A loud pop rings out, and Atomo drops the bow, before running back to the toys... and meeting with Francis in a go-kart! Fran chases Atomo BACK to the sporting goods, and the Living Robot dives behind the counter, sending the kart crashing into the front of the desk... Francis sailing through the air, and colliding with a gun shelf. The shelf topples over ontop of Fran, and pins him under. Atomo simply sits ontop of the shelf, and the ref falls for the count: 1... 2... kickout!!! Atomo pulls Francis from the shelf and whips him back to the desk... but Fran quickly hops ontop, turns around swiftly and leaps into the air, catching Atomo with a flying neckbreaker! Francis drapes over an arm for the pin: 1... 2... shoulder up!!! Fran picks up Atomo, hooks him in the front chancery, and brings his back down on the gun shelf with a vertical. Francis looks to his side... and sees the perfect opportunity. A worker is on a ladder, stocking the very top shelf of pet products. Francis heads up the ladder beneath the worker... and drops him down with the Finale... before treking back up the rungs, and climbing ontop of the shelf!!! This man is INSANE!!! Seriously, the sWo found him after he escaped from the local mental ward... Naw, just kidding. They had to break and enter on that occasion... First time anyone's actually broken INTO an asylum....]
[Francis cups his mouth and lets out a howl... and gazes down at Atomo, who is still lying flat out on the gun shelf... Francis lifts his head... and soars through the air with a Snuke-style splash... plummeting through the air... crushing Atomo underneath, and splitting the shelf right down the center with his weight. My GOD, what a move!!! Francis goes for the pin... 1............... 2............... but Atomo whispers something in a pained monotone, and instantly, they vanish... before reappearing... in the middle of an old Wild West town! Francis on one side of the dusty path, in customary bad-guy black... Atomo on the other side... in customary robot grey. They both hold a hand at their holster, ready to prove themself the fastest draw in BoB. A tumbleweed blows past... followed by a crumpled newspaper... a wooden tire... that red bll from Wal-Mart... a couple of logs... a red carpet rolls out, some paparazzi walks up to the sides, snapping photos as J-Lo and her new husband walk past... J-Lo ends up divorcing him before they exit the other side of the screen, and as soon as they leave, the media dissapears, and the red carpet rolls up itself from behind... four guys who cloely resemble the Beatles walk by, the fourth one holding hands with a woman that closely resembles Yoko Ono... The first three men seem to be keeping their distance, and the gap between them and fourth widens as they cross the section... they leave, and parade music can be heard... hey, it's the Burlapp Brothers Circus parade! Elephants, and giraffes, and men on stilts all cross, followed by a stretch limo... that stretches... and stretches... and stretches... and about 69 feet of limousine later, the car exits the other side of the screen. A janitor strolls by, mop in hand, cleaning up the mess left by the elephants, giraffes, and various circus animals. All in a day's work...]
[Day turns into night... Night turns into day... seasons pass... and yet both Atomo and Francis stay at the ready... waiting to make the move, to take out the other... when years have gone by, and we approach the day that this town is no longer a Wild West town, but a ghost town. And both the man and the machine are gorwing old and rusty. Respectively. Finally, Francis' shaky, wrinkled hand reaches into the holster... and pulls out his gun... he pulls the trigger... and it seems as though the metal has rusted over, rendering it usueless. Atomo is next, pulling his laser gun out, aiming... and pulling the trigger... wait... uh oh. It looks as though Atomo's circuits have grown too outdated, and he's forgot to point the gun at FRANCIS! And thus, all that is left, a pair of leather cowboy boots. Francis stumbles forth, his spindly, decrepit legs finally giving out, and he falls ontop of the pair of boots, clutching his heart. The referee...'s great, great, great grandson appears, and makes the count: 1... 2... 3!!! Francis wins!]
[Unfortunately, Francis had a heartattack, and couldn't accept the "First Annual Vortex Streetfight Award for Excellence in Actual Reality". What does actual reality mean? It means back in the arcade, Francis really had a heartattack, but thankfully, it's only his 4th one of the week. He reaches seven, and we have something to worry about.]
BJ: That, folks, had ta be THE most excitin' match that never took place in real life! I can't figure out how ta work a VCR, but ya ain't gotsta be a technicality engimeer ta know that match will go down in history as the greatest thing in the history of history! And folks, I don't say it often, but that was one HELLUVA Tunabaker!!! BY GAWD~!!!
Water: Other drinks have to rely on shallow things such as good marketing, good design, good taste... But nothin' beats an original. So quit bein' a bitch, and DRINK IT!
BJ: Alright folks, I'm joined once again by Reeve and Mr. Russo, for the main event of the evening. The first EVER Hell-o in a Jell-o match! All from the genius to muh left.
Russo: That's right, Cartman.
Russo: Muh boy, Trips, is gonna so TOTALLY take it ta that mista hotshot Lil Jon!
BJ: Speakin' a' which, I believe that's him a-comin' right now!
Stereo: Awwww skit, skit, skit, skit, skit, skit, Awwwww skit, skit, skit, skit...
Russo: OH HELL, SOMEBODY TURN THAT SHIT OFF!!!
Crackhead #943: Eyyyy! This here's a good song! Everybody in the house say SKIIIIIT!
Everybody in the house: SKIIIIIT!!!
Russo: Oh God... I've died and gone ta Charlotte...
Reeve: Oh FORGET this, I'm going to the alley so I can introduce myself properly to our new GM...
BJ: Oh, yer just gonna give him head so ya can get a main event.
Reeve: And your point is?
BJ: ... Why do I even bother...
[Lil Jon comes through the door for the second time tonight, and starts slapping fans with the crackheads, and this guy would HAVE to be about the only star this audience could possibly know from the entire night. Jon goes down one side of the audience... the other... and golly gee, he seems to be heading INTO the crowd to high-five even more people! Great way to kill time while we send you off to the last ad of the night. Alot better than the REAL WWE, cutting off in the middle of fughing matches... dumb-
Water: What other drinks WANT to be. You know... that whole "72% of the human body", "75% of the earth's composition" thing. ... DRINK IT!!!
[We come back to Jon, standing in the middle of the ring, as "It's all about ME! ME! ME!" by PorterHead blasts out of the stereo, and the crackheads... are holding their bleeding ears. Triple S saunters in from the cold, and he must be freezing, wearing nothing but those short black tights. Is it cold in here, or does SSS have absolutely NO crotch at all? ... Why am I noticing things like that... Trips heads toward the ring, with water bottle in his hand. He walks up to the apron, and stands tall, staring down at the crackheads, like he's been staring down at all the others below him all his life. Trips takes a swig, tosses the bottle in the crowd (and they must have dry mouths, because they're scrambling for that thing like a 11 year old trying to get out of Michael Jackson's "special room"), and the Mang spits a stream of water into the air...]
BJ: What majesty... what power... what a spectacle...
Russo: Ben, he spit all over your face.
BJ: I know. What an honor just to be spit on by such a work of art like the Mang, Triple S... because he IS that... dern... jawesome.
Russo: Damn fatass, you'll suck up to anyone with power.
BJ: That's not really a requirement. I just do it out of the kindness of my heart... and the fact that I have a severe inferiority complex, but that's really neither here nor there.
[Trips meets Jon in the middle of the ring, as the two men stare into eachother's eyes... trading vicous words, and folks, this has got to be a war of the words if I've ever heard one. Let's listen in to this heated conversation.]
SSS: I am da Mang-ah!
SSS: I am-ah da the best-ah in this busineness-ah today-ah!
SSS: I am that... dern... jawesome!
SSS: DAMMIT, I WILL END YOU!!!
SSS: THAT'S IT! LOWER THE CELL!!!
[The cell of jell lowers from above... encapsulating the two men. The camera can still get a vision of the combatants... a little blurred... and the fruit embedded in the cell's side tends to get in the way, but other than that, we can see the fight just perfect. Lil Jon runs in with a clothesline, Trips ducks under, Jon spins around, kick to the gut-]
BJ: PEDICURE! PEDICURE! PEDICURE!
Shill: That's his move!
Russo: YES! This one's ova'!!! Pin him Trips! PIN HIS ASS!!! Wha'... what the mothaphuckin hell is he doin' ova' he'!
BJ: Ova' the'.
BJ: You said "ova' he'". It should be ova' the', referring to a distance set apart from yourself.
Russo: Sorry WHAT?
BJ: Sorry, oh unholy antichrist of sports entertainment.
Russo: Much betta'. Anyhell, what the hell is Trips doing?!
[Trips has picked up Jon, instead of going for the pin, and has thrown him right through the cell... to the outside floor!]
BJ: BY GAWD, WHAT STRENGTH!!!
Russo: Well... it IS a cell made of gelatin... but good ova'sell Ben.
BJ: I try.
[Trips extends his arms into the air, rearing his head back, and soaking in the complete indifference from the gathered crowd of crackheads. When allofasudden... the cell begins to wobble and shake... before... SPLAT! The Hell-o in a Jell-o just collapsed ontop of Triple S!!! The Job-a-thon champion has been pinned beneath Russo's creation! Jon sees this opportunity, and crawls back into the ring, and over the general vicinity of the champ... before pinning him for the 1... 2... 3!!! OH MY GOD! Lil Jon... Lil Jon is the Job-A-Thon World Champion!!! I can't believe it, folks! All that trouble Triple S went through of not training, waiting through an entire show without one appearance, and hitting one move in the main event on a rap star who'd never had a match in his life, all for not! Jon lays on the mass jell-o, the ref holding his right hand in the air, the gold resting in his left... and Russo is going ballistic at the announce position.]
VR: YOU DIRTY ROTTEN SON OF A BITCH!!! I WILL KILL YOU!!! THE SWO WILL KILL YOU!!! YOU WILL PAY, DAMMIT!!! LIL JON IS A DEAD MAN!!!!!
BJ: Lil Jon! You've just won the Job-A-Thon title! Any words?
Lil Jon: Yeeea-yaaaaa!
BJ: And what would they be?
Lil Jon: Whaaaaaat?!
BJ: What would they be.
Lil Jon: Whaaaaaat?!
BJ: I said, what would they be?!
Lil Jon: Whaaaaaat?!
BJ: WHAT WOULD THEY BE?!
Lil Jon: Whaaaaaat?!
Lil Jon: Okaaaaay!
BJ: Lil Jon, everybody.
Lil Jon: Whaaaaat?!
Lil Jon: Yeeeea-yaaaa!
Russo: We did it! We pulled off the greatest publicity stunt in the history of the free world! Thank YOU Lil Jon. Couldn't a' done it wit'out-chuz.
Lil Jon: Well, I find that in my travels, to be of service to one man, is to help oneself in the most significant of ways. And for that, I am eternelly grateful to you, sir Russo.
VR: Now, Trips, with the strap on Lil Jon, we can run the media gamut! Talk shows, infahmercials, MadTV, Saturday Night Live, magazine covahs, music videos... I mean, you name it, it's at ah fingahtips! And the world is gonna FLOCK tah see ya face off wit' Jon on WWE, Chloroform, and the big finale: The Greatest PPV of the Century! This thing is gonna put da sWo on da map! Triple S... ya gonna be a billionaire. And I'm gonna see the highest ratin's ah my caree'!
SSS: As long as you continue to let me spit on Ben Joss when I make my entrances, I'm putty in your hands, Uncle Ru.
VR: Great... heheh... splendid... Jon, any thoughts?
VR: Oh, just say the line.
Jon: Of course. Ahem... Yeeeea-yaaaaa!!! ... How was that?
© 2004 sWo/BOB Wrestling.