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We Win Everything Logo

- "Our House", the new We Win Everything theme, hits, and the camera opens to Gordon Gardens in lovely St. Louis, Missouri. Sparks rain down over the ring, ramp and stage from the rafters, as the crowd is roaring it's approval. And it's a damn good thing Vinny Ru saved his money before WCW went bankrupt, or we wouldn't have a full seat in the building. Well... except for Good ol' BJ's. In that case... I'd make it an even dozen. -

- We quickly cut to the back, where hYpo has laid out both Fifi AND Pierre through a single table, Fifi laying ontop of Pierre. I could make some joke about French people being gay... but I'll be curteous and just say FRENCH PEOPLE ARE GAY!!! hYpo grabs Fifi by the collar (haha, that sounds funny. ... nevermind) and slams his face into the wall. He rubs it across the gravelly brick, before rearing the French Phucker's head back... and sending it through the entire wall!!! -

BJ: BY GAWD!! BY GAWD!!!! BY GAWD!!!!!!!!

- Now that's just cheap manufacturing. Seriously, one of the brick's says "Made in China. By a bunch of underpaid 4 year olds. Very, very cheaply". Swear to God. -

BJ: Folks and fans and folks as well, it looks as though the French Fries have been laid to waste! What does this mean for the first match in the Arquette series? Find out, right after THESE advertisements.

- ads -

BJ: And we're back. Oh wait, sorry folks, it wasn't supposed to be after THOSE commercials, but THESE commercials. Sorry for the confusion.

- ads . The CORRECT ONES . Really. -

BJ: I apologize tah Geico, K-Mart, Wal-Mart, Target, Tampax, Tupperware, Tipper Gore, Rolex, Reality Bytes, Survivor, WCW-


BJ: And I just wanna take this time to introduce everyone to DSL, a former member of LAN, the British Punk Rock Group / Internet Service Provider. He is an asshole, and I hate his guts, say hello to the people DSL.

DSL: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Sod off ya bloody kipperwankahs!

BJ: And to create yet another annoying 'improvement' to the WWE brand, I'm going to have tah spout off a helluva lot more, and the narrator is gonna be a-narratin' alot less than usual. For a Shane Bryant written show anyway. It's just poor judgement folks, what can I tell ya. Anyhell, we really do have a tunabaker fer ya folks, and I just pray to the Lord Almighty above that this works. Shane's had five feds and each and every one of em' had like foru shows before they went down the drain quicker than Wang-Chung's career. And you read that right. "foru". They were so bad they don't even deserve to be spelled properly.

- "Down with O.P.P." hits and the people rise to their feet. hYpo comes out... and the people lower to their seats. We really need to find appropriate theme songs for all these guys... -

BJ: I tell ya what folks, this here hYpo is one mean mama.


BJ: But... I did. I finished muh sentence.


BJ: ...

- hYpo stomps down the aisle. A fan reaches out his hand, and hYpo takes it. I bet that fan will never wash that hand again. Seeing as how hYpo just took it and put it in his pocket. hYpo slides into the ring and lifts his hands in the air. Along with the fan's hand. -

BJ: Now it's time to see who hYpo will have to face seeing as how he tore a hole straight through the Great Wall of France. This oughta be interestin'...

- ads -

BJ: Well, not THAT. That was an ad. Damn there's alotta those things... Anyway, we're still waiting for hYpo's opponent. Or opponents I should say. And I'm getting word from the back that Mr. Mackmin, WWE's President of Decisions, has something to say. Take it away Vinny!

- The Tube flickers to life above the stage, and the fans devote their attention to the 20 foot face of our prez. -

VM: Ladies and gentlemen, and hYpo. I have just arrived at this arena, and the moment I stepped into my office, at around 7:10p.m., my phone rang. Turns out, our Chairman, Mr. Vincent Kennedy Russo, has fired Reeve Gordon as leader of the sWo. And has instated someone else. Someone with a better idea of where to take a group as dominant as the sWo used to be. Someone with power and prestige. Someone who really knows how to lead. And that someone is standing right behind you Mr. hYpo.


DSL: Wouldn't that be 'he', ya soddin'... soddah?

- hYpo scratches his head, looking at the Tube with befuddlement, before turning around- PETICURE!!! Oh my God, it's Triple S! SSS is the NEW leader of the sWo. And by God here comes Hack, Slash, Ron Mitchells, JJ Mynuz, and Bing O. Hall!!! This is chaos folks, utter chaos!!! -

BJ: Hey, yer over doin' it there buddy. That's my gimmick. As he was sayin', Triple S has just laid hYpo tah waste with that one move, and by golly, what are we seeing here? A few men have joined in with the sWo, as well as a few missing. Could this be the new stable that was hinted at? By Gawd it is, and that's my story, and I'm ah-stickin' to it.

- Triple S smiles sardonically, before ripping the microphone out of Jack Hoff's hand. He leans against the ropes and stares out at the jeering fans. Man, they really love hYpo here at Gordon Gardens! I think- -

SSS: Oh shut up, ya damn jackass.

- But I'm the narrator! -

SSS: Not anymore! You're FIRED!!!

- But... you can't do that! -

SSS: Man, I'm Vinny-Ru's head pupil. There's no denying him, and there's no denying ME! And from now on, there will be NO need for a narrator. There's only one man we need to call the action around here.

BJ: Didja hear that DSL?! Get yer ass right on outa here!


BJ: Didja hear that DSL?! He said- wait...

SSS: Because the guy we've hired to call the action... is none other than... ME!!! Now you two remove yourselves, and I'll take your spots.

DSL: Rightio guvna. I've got me paycheck anyhoo.

BJ: But... but...

- ads -

SSS: Hello folks, and welcome to the NEW We Win Everything, where we run things right! Unless you're one of those stupid internet jackoffs with their heads up their asses, which if you're reading this you probably are, ya damn 16 year olds with your pimples and your Flair lovin' mothers, you should know that I now lead 5 men. Hack Hokin, Kevin Slash, Bing O. Hall, Ron Mitchells, and JJ Mynuz. And those five men are in the ring at this moment, waiting for the grand marshal of this, the greatest company in the known universe, now celebrating its second show! And here he comes right now. ... Oh, wait, I forgot, we don't have a narrator to do all that stupid intro shit. Well, let's see here;

SSS: "Iron Man" by Ozzy Osbourne strikes up over these fine 50 watt speakers we have here in the newly rechristened Russo Dome in beautiful St. Louis, Missouri. The fans come alive and cheer their heads off for their God. Ok, so I made that last part up, but excuse me for having a brighter image of these pathetic, loser fans. They KNOW the only reason they're here is because of my boss. My boss is the man that brings them WWE action, bi-month in, bi-month out.

SSS: Vince steps up the stairs, as the s to the W to the o surround the ring. Vince nods at his comrades, as he picks up the mic I so graciously left for his majesty, the Ru. Mr. Russo stares at the fans, and I think I just saw hYpo cough up a lung lying on the outside mat...

VR: Alright, alright, SHUT UP! You jerkweed fans think ya so damn smaht, eh? Well suck on these! - grabs his balls. What a nice couple. Of baseballs. What? He's a Yankees fan, they always carry those things around - Hey narratah, the exit's that way! - sorry, just saw an opportunity and I thought I'd give it a shot. I'll be leaving now - Good. Now, - Hey, you got any cash for gas? - No, now fuck off. - ... thank you - NOW... As I was saying, - Hey, I was just wondering- - GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BUILDING YA DAMN VOICE!!!

SSS: Hey Vinny-Ru, who are ya talking to?

Fan: I think he's going insane!

VR: Wait... you mean... you can't hear it?

SSS: ...

Fan: ...

SSS: Hahaha, we were just foolin' with yuz Unc. Narrator, have a nice life.

Narrator: You too Trips. Peace.

SSS: See ya.

Fan: I still can't hear anything. Of course, I'm deaf, so that may account for something.

VR: ... Now, the reason I brought my guys out here and kicked the shit outa hYpo, is because for one, I just plain hate hYpo ova he'. Othah than that, I wanted to truly establish WWE as the superior brand. And because of that, starting tonight, things are going to be shaken up a bit around here. For one, I'm going to be featured significantly less here on WWE and BoB.

SSS: First true pop of the night. Leaving me totally blank as to the reason why... Wait... OHHH... HEY!!!

VR: Leaving my good friend Vinny Mackmin to tend to the day to day work. Now, I'm still gonna come out here every now and again to make the big decisions, but as far as consulting with you jizz-rags and the supahstahs of the company, I've got no reason to deal with shit like "Arquette Invitationals" and crap like that ANYMORE. So my men, I would now like to leave you with the man that will be leading not only you to greatness, but this company to the top of the business... Vinny Mackmin!!!

"No Pants, a na na na na na,
No Pants at all,
That's what I've got.
No Pants, a na na na na na,
No pants is what I bought.
I ain't got no money"

SSS: Mr. Mack's funky theme hits and here comes the Prez himself. He does that quirky little strut that we've grown to love over the zero appearances he's graced our TV sets, and now, he finally makes it to the ring. A shake of two of the most powerful hands in this company, and Russo makes his departure.

Mackmin: Thank you Mr. Russo, I hope not to let you down. In fact, I guaran-damn-tee... that I hope I won't let you down. Now, the six men, including Triple S at the commentary table, that you see here, are the six greatest men to ever grace a wrestling ring. But without a solid foundation of jobbers to beat upon every week... Why, they just wouldn't be the same. So, just as my colleague Mr. Russo said, things are about to be shaken up. From now on, you can expect atLEAST one show per month, with a column written by our new columnist, Lance Bore every month as well.

Mackmin: And in the spirit of giving the young superstars of this company a chance, I'm taking Ice Cold and Grandpa Joe out of the Invitational, and putting the Drizzle and Edje IN! And I'm also changing the match around a bit. Instead of taking up five match slots, it is now simply a ten man gauntlet, featuring Y2Trey, AOL v.1.0, Edje, Booger, Craven, Apex, DVD, Godawful Guerrero, Mish-Mash Menoit, and the Drizzle. The last man named in this gauntlet will be the first EVER IntArquettenental champion.

Mackmin: But in addition to that-

- ads -

Mackmin: I WANT THE AD GUY FIRED!!! HE's FIRED, HE's FIRED, HE's FIRED!!! DAMMIT!!! NOW... In addition to this match, there will be a card featuring some of the best this promotion has to offer. Stain will face Ventura and Albano in a handicap match; hYpo will be facing Fifi in a chair match for a bottle of French Wine; Blubba Butt and Hee-Haw will be facing the tag champions in a tag team title tables match; ExLactus Jack will be facing Yahu in a No DQ, No Count-outs, Falls Count Anywhere, Hardcore, Streetfight; and Little Nunzio will defend his Applecore title against... the Big Small!!! Sound like a packed card? Well it damn sure better, because I pulled some strings to bring it to you! So sit on your fat asses, grab a Bud, and watch the next 2 hours while your life slowly wastes away! Goodnight, and keep on throwing your money my way!

SSS: Well you heard it here first folks, it looks as though things are starting in a big way here on the NEW WWE!!! And to begin this new beginning, we have ten eager young men that want to get their shot at taking home the second most prestigous title in the company... as its first holder! Yes, that's right, it's the IntArquettenental gauntlet, and it's NEXT!!!

- ads -

SSS: Jack Hoff is standing in the middle of the ring, while all ten men stand on the outside... well, all ten except for AOL, who stands beside Jack, and the man that's about to make his WWE debut, as the countdown on the RuTron begins; 5... 4... 3... 2...


SSS: A huge blast of pyro explodes over the stage, and the fans come unglued! They're cheering their heads off for this, the most anticipated star in the history of the world, Y... 2... Trey!!! The lights blink on and off, as Slash is doing a master job in the back flipping that switch up and down. What a magnificent show this is! Too bad we spent our entire budget on that one blast of pyro...

SSS: Anyway, A spotlight casts over the stage, and a man is seen with his back turned to the ring. He extends both arms to the air, and in a split second, he turns around... and my God, if I swore I wasn't seeing things, I'd say that's Trey Vincent, leader of the iAd in BoB, and the mastermind behind BoB's... eventual destruction. But no... it couldn't possibly be. Because that dude's wearing a goatee and ponytail, two things TV wouldn't be caught DEAD wearing.

SSS: Y2T strolls down the ramp, slapping hands with the fans, as he stares a hole into AOL in the ring. Hoff announces.

JH: First, introducing in the ring at this time, he hails from sillacone valley, and weighs in at a staggering 56kbps, he is the master of the Crash Test, he is... Arnold O. Lamonte, versioooooonnnnnn oooooooooooone-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! And, just now stepping into the ring, he is THE number one most anticipated superstar in the history of the world, he is the Ayatollah of Balogna, the King of Telemarketing, he IS... the master of the Best Damn Moonsault Period... Y... 2... TREEEEEYYYYYY!!!

SSS: What a round of introductions. These two men are truly headed for success with hype like that. Just ask Mordecai. Y2T and AOL stand nose to nose, eye to eye, head to head, toe to toe, chin to chin, stomach to stomach, waist to waist, legs to legs, knees to knees, feet to feet, bad gimmick to even worse gimmick. These two aren't moving an inch... until... Trey throws a fist right square into Arnie's jaw, which he rolls away from, and ends up sweeping Trey's feet from beneath him.

SSS: Trey topples to the mat, and Arnie goes for the quick cover. 1.. kickout! That was so close it wasn't. Arnie slides ontop of Trey and throws the fists to the mush, fist after fist after fist, till Trey is spitting up blood. Trey slings the legs up and hooks Arnie up into a sit-down pin, receiving a one count, and a break up. Trey rushes towards the ropes, springs onto the turnbuckle, and soars into the air with the crossbody heading for Arnie... who catches Trey and rolls in with the pin, latching both feet on the ropes. 1... 2- and a quick kickout, but not as quick as before.

SSS: Trey rolls out of the ring and heads up the ramp... but Booger and Craven grab him by the hair and toss him back in. Arnie throws down the stomps as soon as the King is in the ring, bounces off the far ropes, and goes for the low dropkick, hitting Trey right in the side. Trey clutches his ribs, and nears the corner. Arnie runs toward the opposite corner... runs in... and hits another low dropkick, right to the nether regions of the Ayatollah. Arn lifts Trey up, reels back, and nails a hard knife-edge chop to the chest.

SSS: The crowd wails with a whoo, as the shot echoes throughout the arena. Arnie goes for another, but Trey grabs his hand out of the air, twists it behind his back, and nails a huuuge release german suplex! Arnie lands right atop his neck, almost severing it clean in half. Trey folds him up in a pin, and gets a two.

SSS: Trey leans against the ropes back-first... rubbing his chin a bit, plotting out his next move. Trey hooks Arn by the throat, picks him up, and tosses him into the corner. He goes in, and raises Arn up top... before moving on up himself, and bringing Arn off with the devestating double-underhook suplex, sending Arnie flying through the air and crashing to the mat! Trey slides one arm over Arnie's chest, and picks up the one, the two, and the three. Arnie is out, and not far behind comes in Craven.

SSS: Craven goes for the discus lariat, but Trey ducks under, hooks Craven's head from behind and drops him with the neckbreaker. Trey goes up top, and flies off with a moonsault... but misses each and every last bit of that one when Craven rolls out of the way. Craven continues rolling, right out of the ring, reaches under and pulls out a trash can lid. He holds it in front of his face... and Trey dropkicks it back in his face (yeah, like ya don't see THAT coming every friggin' time it's set up)!

SSS: Trey springboards off the top rope and hits a flipping, somersault plancha, driving Craven against the barricade. Trey goes for Craven's head, but Booger comes up from behind with the axe handle smash right across the back of Trey. Booger goes for one backhand chop, followed by a forward chop, and another chop, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and... good God almighty, is that the only move he knows? Wait... no... Booger lowers to one knee, shakes a finger in front of his face, and goes for the- SHITAROONIE! SHITAROONIE! BY GOODNESS ME, SHITAROONIE! Aka, Booger G flopping around wildly on the ground like he's having a seizure.

SSS: And while Booger's performing the seizure, er, Shitaroonie, Trey grabs a steel pipe and whacks him in the gut. Booger stops immediately, and is layed out on his back. Trey reels the pipe back... and Craven grabs it right out of his hand! But the Drizzle comes over to Craven and jumps on his back, locking on the sleeper, as Craven goes to snapmare Driz off, but the supernerd holds on tight. So, Craven slams the pipe into his head, dropping him instantly. Craven turns around... and uppernut by Trey!!! Y2Trey tosses Craven back into the ring, slides inside, and goes for the 1... 2... 3!

SSS: But only gets a 2.

SSS: Oh, wait, yeah, that was a three.

SSS: That he tried for.

SSS: And he got it! Craven is right on outa here!

SSS: Trey is motioning for anyone to enter. He looks over the remaining seven challengers, resting his gaze on Booger... when Apex Gingivitis comes up from behind with the schoolboy pin; 1... 2... kickout! Apex springboards off the ropes with a moonsault, Trey rolls out of the way, and Apex lands on his feet. Instantly breaking both of them. He falls on his back, grabbing his ankles... and Trey goes for the pin. 1, 2, and 3, and Apex is GONE!!! Loser.

SSS: Apex rolls out of the ring and is replaced by Mish Mash. MM tackles Trey to the ground and tries to go for his finishing submission, the MashedFace Muffler. Trey throws a few elbows to the face of MMM, before whipping him over with a headlock snapmare. MMM lands sitting up, and Trey locks on a headlock from behind. Yet MMM fights it off, slowly rising to his feet. Mish Mash runs toward the ropes, bounces off, and falls backwards, squashing Trey underneath. The ref falls down to make the pin; 1... 2... kickout!

SSS: Trey wraps his legs and arms around MMM, sucking the life from him in a modified Tazzmission. MMM is about to drop his hand to the mat, but Trey releases. Trey stands tall, bounces off one set of ropes... the other... yet another, and the final set, brushes off both shoulders, and BAM!!! Fist Drop! Fist Drop! By God, Fist Drop!!! That's it, it's over, call the dentist! 1... 2... 3!!! Trey falls over to the corner, gasping and panting for breath, as the ref asks for another competitor to enter the ring. Edje sees his opportunity, slides into the ring, and pulls Trey into the middle of the canvas to go for the pin... but Trey rolls him up, and quickly puts away the leader of D-Evolution.

SSS: Trey gets up, turns around, and MISSILE DROPKICK!!! Trey falls backwards and topples out of the ring. And Godawful... wait... that's not GG! Trey finally gets back to his feet... and... SWEET... AND... SOUR!!! The superkick to the nuts bends Trey over, and GG slides in, before going for the pin: 1.. 2... and 3! By God, Trey has FINALLY been eliminated! Trey lifts an eye, and through blurred vision, all he can see is the sight of a boot leaving the ring, and dancing up the ramp. A boot with the initials H... A... K.

SSS: Trey crawls out of the ring and up the ramp, grabbing the boot, and staring up. Seeing the face of Ron Mitchells, Y2Trey gasps. Ron grabs the man that skyrocketed almost to the end of the gauntlet, and looks into his eyes... before slapping the taste out of his mouth. Y2Trey falls back to the steel, and Ron walks all the way to the back. We move over to the ring, where Godawful and Booger are trading blows. GG ricochets off the ropes, flies into the air, and hits a strong leg lariat.

SSS: He comes off the side ropes, hops up, and comes crashing down with the standing frogsplash... that misses. Boog lifts GG up, whips him into the corner, and comes in with the leaping splash... but catches nothing but turnbuckle. GG rolls him up from behind, and gets a foot on the bottom rope... but the ref catches this, and knocks it off, causing GG to become distracted. GG shoves the ref, ref shoves him back, right into a schoolboy from the Booger Man! And we get a one... two... but no three.

SSS: Booger hops up and bounces from foot to foot, swinging those arms, popping that neck, ready to strike. GG slowly gains his grounding, and goes for a shoulder tackle, but Booger sidesteps, sending GG to the corner. Booger goes for the chop- WHOOO!!! Another- WHOOO!!! And one more for good measure- WHOOO!!! Booger pulls back and shoves a few shoulders into Guerrero's gut, before locking onto his head, and trampling a knee into his gut as well. Booger is absolutely tearing into Godawful, staying relentless the whole way through, and not letting up an inch.

SSS: He's staying on him like stink on shit, and never backing away from the target. Starting to run out of synonyms so I think I'll move right along. Finally, Booger backs out, and GG topples to the mat. Booger heads up top... lifts an arm... and flies off with the Hoggstown Hangover... and hits it! The ring that is! GG goes for the cover, and we get a one... two... thre-NO!!!

SSS: Dammit, no! Booger is gone! He was my pick! Well, anyway, we get the three, and Booger is out.

SSS: DVD hops onto the apron. GG rushes toward him, but catches a high boot to the face. GG stumbles back, DVD springboards off the top rope, and hits the flying karate kick. GG falls on his ass, and DVD springboards off another set of ropes, leaps around and nails a dropkick, slapping Godawful onto his back. DVD jumps on the post, and sails off... running his body into Godawful's with the Fifty-two Card Splash, and going for the pin; 1, 2, kickout!

SSS: DVD whips GG into the ropes, bounces off one set of ropes, GG rebounds, DVD springboards off another set, GG comes swiftly toward him, Dan backflips off the top rope, and drops Guerrero with a GIGANTANORMOUS inverted ddt!!! DVD goes for the pin: 1.. 2.. kickout! DVD holds his head, as he's slightly distempered after that near fall. GG quickly springs to his feet out of nowhere, but DVD hits a springing backflip kick, dropping the Mexican Jumping Bean to his feetsies. DVD bounces off the ropes, somersaults, and hits the Rolling Blunder... which gets its name from the fact that DVD is too high off his ass to perform it correctly. Whoops, did I just let the cat out of the bag... And the move truly lives up to its name, as GG slides out of the ring, and DVD hits his ass.

SSS: GG pulls a ladder out, sets it up by the apron... and begins to climb up, rung by rung, till he reaches the top. GG slaps his chest, and lifts a finger to the air... but from the crowd, Wright Angle slams a chair against the ladder... and Godawful plummets into the ring!!! Wright slides into the ring, where Dan has made it to his feet... but not for long, as Wright BLASTS him with the chair... before draping him over GG; 1... 2... 3!!! Wright slides back out, pulls GG under the bottom rope, and beats on him, over the railing, and through the audience. Dan Van Dam lays wasted in the center of the ring. Not the first time... The Drizzle looks inside... and smiles. He slides into the ring, spinning around, cape twirling in the air... before he places one finger on Dan's chest!!! The ref goes down and a-one... a-two...

SSS: And a-three!!!

Jack Hoff: Winner, and FIRST EVER INTARQUETTENENTAL CHAMPION... the Drizzle!!!!!

Speakers: Watch out, there's a slight chance of rain coming through!

SSS: Oh my God! The Drizzle, the littlest fight in the dog, has come through and picked up the second most prestigous title... as it's first ever holder! We'll be back!

- ad: Blood...



Some will win... others will lose...

All lives shall change...


The 2004 Checkers Championship in Buttdumpling, Nebraska.

It will consume you... :ad -

SSS: We open back up to- BAM!!! I can't believe it! Wright is STILL beating Godawful, stomping him all the way to the back, and up a ladder... and onto a truck!!! A right from Wright, staggering Guerrero... Wright goes for the discus, swigning, and- OH MY LORD IN HEAVEN!!! The Big Small! The Big Small! The Big Small! The Big Small just hooked Wright by the neck... but wait, that guy's standing ontop of a chair! He's gotta be half Angle's height! But yet he tries to lift the Olympic Luge Champion above the semi... And GG dropkicks Wright over while the big... little man holds him! The Big Small just (half)chokeslammed Wright Angle off that damndable truck!!! The camera pans over the semi, and picks up a glance of Wright, sprawled out on the concrete, in his finest Darmani suit. This doesn't look good for our American Hero...

- (even more) ads -

SSS: Ok, I have word from the back that The Big Small has been taken OUT of his match with Little Nunzio, and the Itallian Stallion will instead be facing ExLactus Jack and Yahu for the Applecore title in a No DQ, No Count-Out, Falls Count Anywhere, Hardcore Streetfight!!! That's three men, all battling it out ALL OVER the arena for one strap! But first, we have two men fighting to the death! Or... atleast until one man retrieves the wine bottle from the hook.

SSS: But instead of using the old, crappy method of a mere ladder... we're using the rare, overlooked match... the CHAIR MATCH!!! That's right, the hook is hanging just high enough that one of these men will have to use a chair to climb up and grab it down! The first man to pull down the bottle, will... uh... get really, really drunk. hYpo has climbed back into the ring after being knocked unconcious by Vinny and the boys, and is awaiting Fifi... but wait, I'm receiving word from the back [yes, that's about the fifteenth time] that Fifi is still being tended to along with Pierre for broken ribs due to hYpo's attack earlier tonight. Which means we are going to need a replacement. And that replacement will be the man that was taken out of his match with Little Nunzio... yes, that's right, it's none other than-

Speakers: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL, Well it's the Big Smaaaaaaaaall!!! Well it's the big bad small tonight, dog! Yeah. Well it is the Big Small, all, all... oh it is the big ol' little bitty small tonight dog! Oh yeah. Well ya best be ready fah something, that's made of pop-tart. He stinks like a fish, or a popcorn fart. It's the Big Small!

SSS: Yeah, that's just about enough of that crap. Now THIS one should be damn interesting. The small and powerful hYpo faces the small and powerful Big Small. An even match-up, with both men around 5 feet, 250. Why is Big Small named Big SMALL? Because he's small... yet big. Or something. Let's just see these two kick the shit outa eachother, ok?

SSS: BS steps onto the apron, over the top rope, and rushes at hYpo with the clothesline, but the Man Dango falls... like a sack of drunken bricks! I think he broke something besides his ribs! Like his pride! Oh wait... I don't think pride snaps like that... Big Small stops dead in his tracks, and stares down at the broken body of hYpo... and chuckles. The little big man picks up the chair, and- GORE!!! GORE!!! GORE!!! OH MY GOD, IT WAS A SET-UP!!! hYpo just gored that damn chair right through BS's chest!!! Litterally! Ok, I'm a big fat liar, but wouldn't that be COOL?! Hell, you can't see this crap anyway...

SSS: hYpo picks up the chair, and sets it up beneath the wine bottle. Big Small slowly picks himself up by the ropes, and hYpo runs to the other side of the ring... before rushing forth, springing off the chair, leaping toward BS, and- BS snatches hYpo up in mid-air, and drops him back-first through the chair with the straight spinebuster! Squashing it totally flat!!! Big Small rebounds off one set of ropes, flies into the air, and comes down hard with the splash right over hYpo's torn and bruised ribs, flattening him out across the chair.

SSS: BS rolls out of the ring and grabs another chair, rolls back into the ring, and lays the chair over hYpo's chest. hYpo is now sandwiched between two chairs, and there is absolutely NO escaping for poor little hYpo. BS heads outside one more time and grabs ANOTHER chair, goes inside, and sets it up. What the hell could he have instore for the Man Cheese? BS stands ontop of the chair, and- both legs fall straight through!!! And OH MY GOD!!! Here comes Wright Angle, the same man the Big Small (half)chokeslammed off the semi, is rushing down the ramp! He slides in, picks the chair up off of hYpo, reels back, and lays Big Small out with one strike to that fat face of his! BS falls out of the chair his feet broke through, and collapses to the canvas.

SSS: Wright props the chair up and sets it down beneath the belt... er... bottle... and slaps hYpo across the face, before running out of the ring and through the crowd. The slap awakens the Man Yeast, who slowly finds his way to the chair and tries his damndest to step onto it to grab the bottle... but Fifi and Pierre come in from out of nowhere with the Con-Chair-To, a chair to both sides of hYpo's head!!! hYpo falls off the chair like a redwood, right across BS... and the French Fries leap into the air, and BOTH pull down the wine bottle!!! What in the blue hell does this mean?!

Jack Hoff: Ladies and gentlemen. Due to Fifi and Pierre pulling down the title at the same time, and both of them amounting to about half a man each-

F & P: HEY!

JH: - Your winner, and... er... uh... holder of a half empty bottle of wine, none other than Fifi... Pierre... the FRENCH FRIE-

Fifi: [grabbing the microphone from Jack] 'Ello, wi wi, I am ze French man! Hate me because I say le and wi alot! Le Wi-wi! See! Oh, ha hah, I have ze snooty laugh! Now, we shall sing the American National Anthem, only very crappily, so that we make le Roseanne cringe!

Pierre: Ci!

Fifi: ... Hit le musique!

Speakers: * U.S. National Anthem *

Fifi: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-

- ads -

Fifi: - and the Home of the Brave!

Fan in the Front Row: Hey, why did you say "oh", wait about an hour, and then say "and the home of the brave"?

Fifi: ... We can edit that out, can't we Trips?

Trips: *shrugs* Alls I know is I'm gettin' paid to talk.

Fifi: Aw well. Now-

SSS: BOOYA!!! GORE TO FIFI! GORE TO PIERRE! That's a double gore, for those scoring at home. The first EVER two gore at the same time, to my recollection. hYpo just WON'T quit. The Man Feast mounts Fifi and throws in a few haymakers, before jutting his elbow over the French Phink's throat. Pierre sneaks up from behind with the chair, before- THWOP! High end kick to the jaw! Pierre drops, with the chair falling flat on his face! The kick... from Yoshotacofanakajiri! Yosho just saved hYpo! What in the fuck does this mean, goddamit all to hell!!! hYpo pulls himself from Fifi, and stares the Japanese Jackass in the eye... before they engage in a handshake! I cannot believe this folks! Yosho and hYpo have just formed an alliance against the French Fries! What could this mean for the future of the business?! Nothing? Most likely!

- ads -


SSS: We're back, and the ring is alight with flames! It's time for the handicap match, and here comes the handicapped superstar, accompanied by his manager/valet/delievery boy - Jippy Jam, he's 500 pounds, and he stands well over 4 feet, he's the master of the Spin-Cycle... the Big... Red... Washing Machine...


SSS: Jippy rolls Stain down the ramp on a cart, before trying to roll the behemoth into the ring... but having no luck.

Jack Hoff: This contest is now... a falls count anywhere match!

SSS: OH MY GOD!!! What a way to cut corners! Way to go Vinny Mack! "Gettin' Old" by Stoned Tampon Pilots hits, and our favorite over-the-hill duo steps through the curtain... or more like, are tossed through the curtain by a pair of curtain-colored gloves. "The Bug" falls by a cannon... which quickly blasts out a tower of pyro, instantly vaporizing our hero. Albano... just sits there. So, Jippy Jam, with a heavy sigh, rolls Stain back on the cart, and begins to roll him back up the ramp to begin the "match"... when from straight out of nowhere, a chair comes swinging against Jip's back, conking him out like a lightbulb. Damn, was it like blue light day on chairs at K-Mart or something?

SSS: Jip slams to the steel ramp, and we get a nice, long, hard look at- Grandpa JOE!?!?!?!?! I can't believe this! My God! ... Jippy Jam must be WEAK!!! Gramps slams the chair against Stain, and... nothing. Well, except for Gramps feeling some soreness in his arthritic hands. Gramps shoves into the Machine with his shoulder, heaving it closer and closer to the rubberband... before it tips over! ONTOP OF THE RUBBERBAND! Gramps tries desperately to roll the Machine over and drape Albano across, but it's no use! The ref goes down and counts the pin; 1... 2... 3!!!

SSS: The Washing Machine has defeated the "Rubberband"!!! The Washing Machine has defeated the "Rubberband"!!! The Washing Machine has defeated the "Rubberband"!!! Copy, Paste sure comes in handy!!! Folks, this is a momentous occasion! Especially if you're a brainless loser who spends every waking moment in front of a screen! Which oughta narrow it down to just about everyone who reads this crap! But I believe we've just witnessed the beginning of an epic feud between old man and clunky machine!

SSS: Joe picks up the chair, pulls back, and brings it down hard over the Machine's back with a loud rasp. Joe throws the chair to the side, and tries to pull the Machine to its fee... er... to a standing position. Joe FINALLY does the improbable, before moving back a few steps, coming in, and taking to the air with the splash!!! Stain wobbles a bit, and Joe simply bounces off the Machine before dropping to the stage from the impact. Stain wobbles... he wibbles... he creaks back... forth... back... forth... just before...

SSS: HE FALLS! Stain just fell fifteen feet through fifteen... DOZEN tables! AND HE SITS BACK UP! Oh, wait, that was just his lid coming off. Well, anyway, Stain has been decimated, and Grandpa Joe has left his impact on the Big Red Washing Machine! A few fueds have begun tonight, and we're only half way done!!! Stay tuned!

- ads -

SSS: Alright folks, next up we present to you the tag title tables match, between the former 239045u848957234th time tag champs, and our current, and GREATEST tag champeens of all time... the sWo; Hack, and Slash. H&S are in the ring, and Hack has a mic.

Hack: Ya know brothers... I've travelled up and down those roads with my bud Slash over here dude, and there's been nothin' better than the pleasure of defending these titles night in, night out. There's NOTHING that could keep me from being a steady defender of these precious straps of gold, brother. Can ya dig it, dude?

Vinny Mackmin [from the RuTron]: Excuse me, Mr. Hokin, Mr. Slash.

Hack: Yes, Mr. Mackmin?

VM: I would just like to announce that your tag title defense has been rescheduled to next week. Is that alrig-

Hack: Alright, you heard the man Kev, we're outa here. Wait... we're still getting paid, right Vinny?

VM: Certainly.

Hack: Alright, let's go... dude.

Slash: Good. I think I busted a rib when I brushed against the rope climbing into the ring.

Hack: You oughta get that checked.

Slash: Naw, I'll just watch a shitload of Miami Vice. That usually helps. Let's split.

Hack: Hold on. Obligatory catchphrase time- Studleyz, you better think twice of stepping in the ring with us next week, dudes, cuz-

Slash: When ya mess wit' da S...

Hack: You go down wit' da rest, BROTHER! And we're out.

SSS: Voodoo Chili by Jimi Wolf-Brand Hendrix plays over the speakers, as the lights flash on and off, and Hack and Slash slowly make their way back up the ramp. But really... they do EVERYTHING slowly, don't they? Vinny Mack is still on the RuTron. I wonder what HE has to say?

VM: I'll tell ya what I have to say, Trips. Ladies and gentlemen, beginning on the next episode of We Win Everything, we will be taking the sWo on its first ever trip across America. We're calling this monumental tour... sWo Across America!

SSS: You just came up with that, didn't ya Vinny?

VM: Trips. Don't think just because you've got ties with the big man that you can just trample over me. Because that won't help me overlook that fact.

SSS: Sorry, "boss".

VM: That's better. ... I think. So, yes, sWo Across America, a tour that will shape the entire wrestling landscape, taking place from atleast the next episode of WWE to the end of the year. I really haven't sorted that whole part out yet. Neither have I the whole "where are the shows going to be hosted at in the various cities and states" thing. But trust me, I will. And I've got almost an ENTIRE week to figure it out, so don't any of you worry a single pretty little hair on your heads. And now, your main event.

Little Nunzio v. ExLactus Jack v. Yahu in No DQ, No Count-Out, Falls Count Anywhere, Hardcore Streetfight

SSS: Little Nunz is standing tall... well, relatively speaking, in the ring, with the Applecore title over his shoulder. And what a crappy looking belt it looks to be. Why isn't MY title being defended in the main event? It's all shiny and pretty, and has my name on it! Heck, if I didn't have to go through all the icky trouble of actually having a match, I damn sure bet you I'd get in that ring and defend my gold right this second! But... I think I'll let Little Nunz take care of the Crapcore belt for now.

SSS: "Constipated" by Avril Latrine hits, and the crowd is... waiting for Yahu to come out. But for now, they'll have to settle for the man straight out of Truth or Dare, Wisconsin, the master of the Double Arm Kick to the Nads, and the Schizophrenic Champion of the ol' WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCW, later rechristened the WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWF, where the superstars had more incurable mental illnesses than you could shake a stick at. The federation is now dead.

SSS: Due to tuberculosis. Among many other things...

SSS: ExLactus Jack strolls down the ramp, holding out his hand for the fans... who intelligentally avoid it, as who KNOWS where that damn thing's been. Exxy rolls into the ring, as it's about the only way he's going to get that fat ass of his inside the ring. He heaves up, and gives the international sign of the gun with both hands, shouting "BANG! BANG, BANG! BANG, BANG, BA-" But suddenly, Nunz slaps Exxy over the back of the head with a cement shoe... that crumbles on impact! Exxy topples to the mat, and Nunz goes for the pin, but picks up only a one, before the lights go out...

SSS: And when they return, Yahu is standing right behind LN!!! The crowd's entirety point at the Afghan Mad Man, and as soon as Little Nunz turns... he catches a baked salami across the face!!! He's plastered, and stumbles backward into the corner. Yahu rushes in, runs right up LN's chest, backflips off [kicking LN in the chin on the way], and lands on his feet. He speeds in and drives the shoulder into Nunzio's gut, not once, not twice, but THREE, count 'em, THREE times.

SSS: Yahu is making his debut tonight, and he'll be damned if he'll let this night end without him putting on one HELL of a show for these folks, right here in St. Louis, Missouri. Yahu hits a chop, and then another, and then one more for good measure. Yahu backs up, runs in, twists into the air, and lands a perfect side leg lariat in mid-air... knocking the wind from Nunzio's lungs. LN falls out of the corner, right into a leg sweep, standing moonsault, 1, 2, kickout by the Itallian Stallion. Yahu hops to the turnbuckle, and awaits Nunzio to make it to his feet... right when ExLactus slams a beaver over the Afghan's head! Yahu drops like a sack of tunabakers. ... Let's just ignore that...

SSS: ExLactus wields the beaver before him, before raising it to the air... and bringing it down to Yahu's nipple!!! The beaver immediately latches on, and without hesitation, ExLactus rips the beaver off... and so, the nipple along with it!!! This reminds me of the night Abdullah the Butcher had the skin burnt from his flesh at the hands of Abbudah Singh... only this time it's a beaver instead of a fireball. And it's a crappy, Afghany jobber instead of a legendary icon in the wrestling business.

SSS: And instead of a horrible, ugly, malicous looking, life-scarring bruise that will plague a man forever... it's a nipple. But other than that, exactly the same. Yahu nippups, and- GORE! GORE! GORE! In 2004!!! And many, many more!!! Yahu goes down WITH ExLactus, and begins to pile in the right hands, over... and over... and OVER! Until ExLactus is bleeding from the nose and mouth. Yahu gets up, and- TAMPON TO THE BACK OF YAHU'S HEAD!!! Little Nunzio just nailed Yahu in the back of the head with the Tampax Heavy Duty 2K4! And baby, if you don't think you can get hurt from a tampon, you haven't seen this sumbitch! Hell, from the looks of things, I'd say that sucker's been pre-used... a few times.

SSS: LN lays the tampon on the canvas, grabs up Yahu, and drops him with a ddt right square on the pad. The guido rolls him over, and goes for the pin: 1... 2... KICKOUT! I cannot f'in believe this! Yahu just kicked out of the dreaded DDTampon!!! What is it gonna take to put this guy on the shelf? Nunz springs to his feet, and throws a boot Yahu's way, but Yahu picks it right out of the air! Yahu rolls to his feet, before hopping into the air, and dropping Nunz with the dropsault!!!

SSS: Yahu is probably one of the most lightning quick athletes on the sWo roster, and he'll be sure to remind us all every night he steps in that ring. As long as he has a mic in his hand. Yahu runs up the post, backflips, and hits the Phoenix Splash, before going for the pin attempt: 1... 2... break-up by ExLactus Jack... with the feather duster! Exxy wields the duster, Yahu makes it to his feet, and Exxy waffles it in his nose, causing him to sneeze a teensy bit. A snot bubble emerges, and Exxy pops it with a well-aimed duster shot, causing a ludicrous amount of runniness to amass across Yahu's face! And the bubble rockets Yahu back... right into the turnbuckle!!!

SSS: ExLactus rushes in, and winds up hitting the masso-splash, crushing Yahu under that 4895 or so pounds of flab. ExLactus backs up, and- wait, he's reaching into his tights... He lifts something up to his mouth, and- *gurgle* ... What's that- *gurgle* - sound? Uh oh... I think SOMEBODY's just had a nice big dose of their trademark chocolate!!! Exxy clutches his stomach, and stares down at the mat, before... eeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwww, he just released EVERYTHING all over the canvas! I think I'm gonna be sick, folks! He stares coldly into Yahu's eyes... before grabbing up the Afghan madman, and dropping him facefirst into the puddle of feces with the double-arm ddt!!! THAT'S HIS MOVE!!! The Full Release DDT!!! But not only is the shi-... crap all over Yahu, but the Constipated One as well! He truly is HAAAARRRRDDDDCCCCOOOORRRREEEE!!! ExLactus goes for the pin on Yahu, with Nunzio still knocked out half-way across the ring from the Phoenix Splash...

SSS: 1...

SSS: 2...

SSS: TOMBSTONE TO EXLAX!!! Literally, somebody just slammed a tombstone over Exxy's head, instantly crumbling it. And one guess as to who that somebody is?

Da Dead Guy: Rest... in... Reese's pieces. ... That line couldn't possibly be right...

SSS: What the hell is that stupid son-of-a-bitch doing here?! I've creamed him time after time, and he's STILL working for this company?

DDG: Whadya think? Where else can you make a comfy 2 mil by repeating the same 3 moves every night?

SSS: True.

*glass shatters*

SSS: Oh hell no. It can't be... BUT IT IS! The Stone Cold Rip-off himself, Ice Cold Slim Johnson!!! Ice Cold stomps down the ramp, Stone Cold look of consternation on that mug of his, as he saunters with an air of Stone Cold 'Tude. DDG turns toward the ramp to face Slim, but is walloped with an icecube from behind by Nunz. DDG turns around, looking infuriated... and drops LN with the CHOKESLAM STRAIGHT TO HELLLLLLL!!! Before- he's whipped around, and ICE COLD PHAZER! ICE COLD PHAZER! ICE COLD PHAZER! DDG has just been layed out by the Ice Cold Phazer, and by goodness, Da Dead Guy is out! Exxy rushes in, catches the Phazer, and is knocked out as well! Phazer to Yahu, Phazer to Lil' Nunz. Here comes The Texan, and he TOO gets the Phazer... of Death! And then-

"No Pants, a na na na na na,
No Pants at all,
That's what I've got.
No Pants, a na na na na na,
No pants is what I bought.
I ain't got no money"

SSS: YES!!! THANK YOU GOD! Which would of course be Mr. Russo, the boss of THIS man... Vinny Mackmin!!! Vinny struts down the ramp, with mic in hand, and look of confidence on his face. Vinny walks up the stairs, gets into the ring, and stares Ice Cold right in the eyes... before the two men shake hands!!!

SSS: ...

SSS: Ice Cold Phazer!!! You knew it had to happen! And the fans are cheering their heads off for no other reason than the fact that the show's almost over!

SSS: ... Wait, Ice Cold is picking Vinny back up... and shaking his hand!!! OH... MY... GOD! What a SHOCKING SWERVE~!

SSS: Ice Cold Phazer!!!

SSS: Before Ice Cold picks Vinny back up, and hugs him!...

SSS: Before PHAZER! PHAZER! PHAZER!!! And now he's stomping out of the ring and to the back... Vinny slowly makes it to his feet... and a BEER TRUCK PULLS OUT FROM BEHIND THE CURTAIN!!! And Ice Cold is spraying Vinny down with beer! The boss falls all over himself! He grabs a microphone!


Ice Cold: That's a trademarked slogan jackass! You can't fire me!


Ice Cold: Damn you Mackmin! Damn... you... straight... to... HELL!!!

Vinny: Oh yeah, real original, Slim. Stealing from BISCHOFF!!!

Ice Cold: Noriega?

Vinny: ... What?

Ice Cold: THIEF!!!


- what -

- after the show -

Russo: Damn good job, Vinny, Slim. You totally pulled off one of my best writing ideas EVA'! The first EVA' MARATHON SWOIVE!!!

Mackmin: Russo, I just want to say that with your guidance from behind the scenes, I believe the next two months are going to be the best of the best. SMC will see NO MERCY!

Ice Cold: More copyrighted material, ya jackass.


Ice Cold: And your point is?

Mackmin: ... Yeah, you're right. But still, it's rather disconcerting to be put down so drastically by your own employee.

Ice Cold: Oh shut it Mackmin, you don't own shit, and you know it.

Russo: It's true, Vinny. I just put you in this job because you look so much like... well, you know. Truth be told, you have about as much power as The Drizzle.

Mackmin: But The Drizzle is our new IntArquettenental champion...

Russo: ...

Ice Cold: ...


Mackmin: ... I don't find any of this funny.

Russo: Hahahah... hoo boy, ya tellin' me. This whole show stinks, nobody's buyin' what we'yah tryin' tah sell, maybe we oughta just close down SHOP- Ahahahahahahaha!


Vinny Mackmin: Heheh, ya know, this actually is quite funny. And you know why Vince?

Russo: Heheh, why's that?

Vinny Mackmin: Because... YYYYYOOOUUURRRREEEE-

Russo: Ya gotta be kiddin-



- Open to the outside of the Russo Dome. Vince is strapped to an ambulance bed, and is being carried off... and the building is being sealed off? What could possibly be going on here? Vinny Mackmin stands at the curb... with a smile on his face... and right beside him, is the champ, with title slung over his shoulder; Triple S. Ice Cold stomps by in a suit and trucker hat, carrying his bags, before eyeing the both of them. -

Slim: You two make me sick, ya know that? You two with yer meli-mouthed, jackass faces. You really get off on this, don'tcha? Doing whatever you want, for yourselves. Well... ya got what ya wanted. Russo's half dead, and will never be able to run a hot bath again much less this company. And with him gone, you can damn sure count me out of this whole damn federation. Go ahead, Vinny, you can have your stupid little promotion. BUT I QUIT!!! You won't last two months. See yall in hell...

Vinny: Let's make it a date. Oh, and by the way Slim... that's VINCE Mackmin from now on.

- Slim, almost making it to his monster truck, turns back around and stares at Vinny... er... Vince... and just stares. For about half an hour. Before... nnnnn... nope, he just stares. Before turning around, and stepping into his vehicle. Slim drives off, and Vince & Trips chuckle to themselves, before Hack, Slash, Hall, Ron and JJ walk up from behind. -

Vince: Ladies and gentlemen,

Slim: Hey Vince! I forgot somethin'.

- Vince stops midsentance, and looks up, to find a big, fat finger waiting for him. -

Slim: Sorry I took so long. Just thought I'd put in a lil' dramatic pause fer yer lil' meli-mouthed sacks ah crap viewers. Remember...

Vince: ... What?

Slim: Exactly.

- Slim drives off. -

Vince: ... Dammit. Ladies and gents, fans of the sWo, members of BoB... welcome to the face of destiny. For months we've wondered WHAT was holding back the power of the sWo. And now we know. It was the narrow-minded thinking of Reeve and Russo. But now... FINALLY, Reeve has been replaced by Triple S, and I have usurped the mindless New "Yahker", embedding MY position as the head of all things S. With Reeve and Russo out of the picture, we may finally do as WE please, and with these six men, the six best talent on the face of the sport, assembled together as one, anything... and everything will be within our grasp. You think this is all talk? Well I assure you. Take into consideration the words of one Mr. Ice Cold Slim Johnson. Two months? You want to see what we can do in two months? Feast your eyes... on the path to the Big December Pay Per View. By that time, we shall be greater a force than the iAd could ever DREAM of being. I guar-an-damn-tee you.

Vince: And as far as this building behind me is concerned... you can consider that shanty out of business. The sWo HQ will now be in my home of Samich, Connecticut, and instead of going on a single 2 month tour of the USA, this company is now officially a world-wide racket! St. Louis cannot hold this phenomenon. No single arena is big enough. We shall spread and infect every damn nook and cranny of not only this country... but the entire WORLD. And folks, you can expect more than your fair share of exclusive match types, innovative storylines, the best damn wrestlers under one umbrella, and some of the wildest, craziest, zaniest concepts in this business today. Because why? BECAUSE I AM A GENIUS!!! I am the owner of the soon-to-be most profitable company on wallstreet. And quite frankly... I'm VINCE MACKMIN, DAMMIT!!!

Vince: Oh, and by the way. Ben Joss is hired back as play-by-play man, and web anallyst.


Vince: Oh, but don't worry Trips. You're still the color commentator.

SSS: I damn well better be. You know I still wear the pants in this relationship.

Vince: Of course, Trips, of course. Now, there will be a few updates that all those interested in the future of this business will need to check out, and they will be exclusive to Ben Joss's "Byte Me" report on I advise you ALL to check this report out, unless you want me to personally come to each and everyone of your houses and kick your ass. ... Or maybe just send Trips over here to do it for me.

SSS: Damn skippy.

Vince: So, look at these six men, people, and look at the FUTURE! For over the next couple of months... you shall all fall, and look at them from your bed on the bloody mat. Things are about to change... the very foundation of this industry is about to be shaken to its core, and the world of sports entertainment... is about to change.

- ads -

Vince: Goodnight.

- ads -

© 2004 sWo/BOB Wrestling.


© BOB Wrestling!

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