[Fade up on an external shot of the IIWF Coliseum by night. The protruding entrance lobby, complete with its illuminated animated banner sign, stands empty, with the blinking lights advertising the special fiftieth edition of IIWF Saturday Night the only movement apparent. Voice over:] VO: The IIWF Coliseum, scene of the most memorable moments in wrestling history. The triumphs... [Various slow-motion chunks of footage zoom out from beyond the camera and "into" the IIWF Coliseum: Hakiro Matsuoko, Tiger Claw, Don Antonio, Brad Kinder, Billy Shakespeare and Marty Warnett raising the Intercontinental Championship belt above their heads; Casey "Blackheart" James holding the World Heavyweight Championship aloft; Billy Shakespeare, Randy Acorn, the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi and the White Phoenix holding the Cruiserweight Championship aloft; and Steamroller, Rising Sun Revolution, the Armed Forces, Pain Inc. and the Dark Disciples proudly wearing the World Tag Team Championship belts as they walk down the aisle. The voice over continues:] VO: The defeats... [More chunks of footage slowly move past the camera and "into" the Coliseum: the sweating, often bloodied, contorted faces of Dan Kauffman, Chris Quigley, Brody Thunder, and other IIWF superstars as they recover from hard-fought defeats at various points in their careers.] VO: The friendships... [More slow-motion footage: Dan Kauffman, Deathbringer and the Subway Psycho are shown with their hands raised in the centre of the ring while fireworks erupt all around them; the full contingent of the Syndicate -- Casey James, Tiger Claw, Hakiro Matsuoko, Joe Latta -- makes its way to ringside; The Horsemen -- Flare, Blackjack Haley, Brad "Bodybag" Kinder and the Outlaw -- stand with their arms raised in the ring; the "Black Pack" of Creed, Mad Dog Watkins and Ike Sampson stand in the ring while the European Alliance of Lord Byron and Otto Verhoeven retreat backwards up the aisle.] VO: The betrayals... [More footage: Mistress Sasha slaps the Subway Psycho around the face, and he recoils as if he had been shot; Chris Quigley and Dan Kauffman brawling around the ringside area; the Outlaw turning first on the American Heroes -- Casey James and the Man of Steel -- and then on the Horsemen; Hakiro Matsuoko turning on the Subway Psycho in a match against Tiger Claw and joining the Syndicate; Mad Dog Watkins executing a flying superbomb on Creed all the way to the arena floor.] VO: The rivalries... [More footage: scenes from the various encounters between Chris Quigley and Billy Shakespeare; the series of matches between Marty Warnett and Lord Byron; the brawls between Mad Dog Watkins and Brody Thunder; the gang warfare battles between the Syndicate and its allies, led by the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin, and the so-called Alliance of Excellence, led by Dan Kauffman.] VO: The unforgettable... [More footage: Tiger Claw powerbombing Don Antonio with a baseball bat; Louie the Ninja unmasking himself after pinning Tiger Claw to reveal himself to be the Subway Psycho; Steve Roberts pushing Billy Shakespeare from the top rope, allowing him to be pinned by the Crippler; Steve Kowalski trundling down to ringside on his tricycle; the Harlequins dropping down into the ring on a fly rope from the rafters; Creed acting as sheriff and keeping no less than a dozen wrestlers at bay over the course of the night.] VO: Shocks... surprises... joy... despair... passion... betrayal... in front of the eyes of the entire world, the IIWF Coliseum has played host for more than a year to the biggest superstars in the world of wrestling. [As the last chunk of footage passes through its doors, the IIWF Coliseum begins to bustle as some of the twenty thousand fans who make their weekly pilgrimage to the arena for its Saturday show pour into the lobby through the doors as the banner above proclaim in flashing lights and living colour that history is going to be made once more.] VO: Tonight, the IIWF commemmorates the fiftieth edition of the premiere sports entertainment show in the world... [The opening graphics explode onto the screen, the IIWF logo being emblazoned with fifty fiery candles:] ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour one...\........|...|.......|....| G O L D E N A N N I V E R S A R Y S P E C I A L --------------------------------------------------------------------- LIVE! IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon August 16 1997 [Fade through to interior shots of the jam-packed IIWF Coliseum. Twenty thousand fans line the stands, many decked out in IIWF merchandise or as lookalikes of their favourite superstar, and many more waving home-made signs. The shot pans down past row upon row of cheering faces, the excitement almost palpable as suddenly a huge volley of fireworks erupts above the ring, rockets shooting down to the four corner posts and apparently triggering four huge explosions of sparks from the posts, almost completely obscuring the ring in their brilliant light. As the sparks are extinguished, in the centre of the ring is suspended a huge wire-frame pyro, the digits of the number 50 blazing away in various colours. Huge, huge pop! Over these scenes comes the voice of veteran announcer Tim Dross:] TD: Welcome everybody to the IIWF Coliseum! Welcome everybody to this very special golden anniversary edition of the hottest two-hour wrestling show anywhere on the planet! Welcome everybody to the fiftieth IIWF Saturday Night! [The shot continues to swing wildly over the excited audience, who are illuminated by various spinning light filters in a myriad colours, many in the shape of the number 50. The shot eventually comes to rest on the broadcast table at ringside, at which are seated Tim Dross, wearing his customary IIWF blazer and tie, and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, who is decked out in his black leather jacket, over a now familiar t-shirt which reads "IIWF Under Siege: Day 35."] TD: Howdy, folks. I'm Tim Dross, and next to me, as always, is my tag team partner and broadcast colleague, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, and what an atmosphere there is here in the IIWF Coliseum tonight! SR: It is a pretty special feeling, Dross, no doubt about it, although I think that's got a whole lot more to do with the fact that later on tonight, the Garden State Kid is going to kick the crap out of Brody Thunder. TD: Well, the match between Steve Kowalski and Brody Thunder has certainly been a talking point throughout the world of wrestling this past week, but that's by no means the only match that has this place buzzing here tonight. On top of our regular live action, we'll be taking you back through some of the most memorable matches from the first fifty editions of IIWF Saturday Night -- who could forget, for example, the classic Pure Science match between Marty Warnett and Lord Byron in the Royal Albert Hall, or that Intercontinental Championship battle royal on the very first edition of IIWF Saturday Night? We'll be taking you back. SR: Damned right you'll be taking us back, Dross -- back to the dark ages. Everybody knows that the only good things about the IIWF last year were the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin and the Syndicate. TD: We've had some truly history-making moments right here every week on this show, and we'll show you some of the best over the next two hours. But what a line-up we have here tonight for this special anniversary edition -- how about that sealed steel cage match between Marty Warnett and Simon Lebec, Steve? SR: Both Warnett and Lebec want their rivalry to end tonight -- in the confines of a sealed steel cage, only one man is going to survive, and that man will be the "Showstopper" himself, Simon Lebec. TD: That remains to be seen, Steve. Marty has said that he feels he must beat Lebec to have a claim at taking a shot at Chris Quigley -- and we also know that Warnett believes he will never have fulfilled his potential until he has beaten that man. SR: If Warnett's biggest career goal is to beat Chrissie Quigley, the guy's even more of an under-achiever than I thought, Dross. TD: In other incredible action, one of the true veterans, one of the true superstars of the IIWF, the inimitable "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare, will wrestle three opponents consecutively in what he has called his "Final Act" challenge. SR: It's going to be his final act all right, Dross. He's going to get scared out of the ring by Sebastian Jericho's face, creamed all over the mat by the big man, Tonnage, and then whined out of existence by Ronnie Paris. Does that guy ever stop moaning? I guess his little woman must be getting to him. TD: The third-generation superstar Ronnie Paris has been the victim of some unfortunate technical difficulties recently, but his wrestling skills are certainly in full working order, and should Shakespeare make it past Jericho and Tonnage, Paris will certainly throw everything he can handle at the man who says he was "Born to Perform." SR: He's going to be dying to leave the stage after the end of this tragedy in three acts, Dross. TD: We'll see. Later on tonight, Mad Dog Watkins will also defend his Intercontinental Championship against a former member of the so-called "Black Pack," and now the newest member of the Age of Rage, Tony Starks. What a match that promises to be. SR: I guess all those people who said that Watkins is an over-the-hill has-been have really been proved wrong this past couple of weeks, huh, Dross? TD: Indeed they have, Steve. With the whole world still reeling from his callous betrayal of Creed, Watkins has proven that there's plenty of life in the old dog yet. On top of that, in our main event tonight, we'll see the long-awaited rematch for the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship between Requiem and the last man to hold the title, a man who was never beaten for the belt -- Casey "Blackheart" James. SR: Boy Rectum had better have the Culture Club on red alert tonight, baby dolls, because the longest-reigning IIWF Champion of all time is going to be taking that belt home one more time. TD: It could well happen right here tonight on this historic edition of IIWF Saturday Night, folks! Tonight's opening match here at the Coliseum should be a rousing affair, Steve Roberts.  These two teams, the Machines and Licensed For Devastation, have been at each others' throats since the moment both of them entered the IIWF prior to Coronation Clash.  Weeks of both verbal and physical altercations between these two groups should culminate in an intense, no-holds-barred match here. SR: Yeah, sure, Dross.  The only remotely interesting thing that could happen in this match is if Simon O'Neal joins up with LFD and all three of them lay a beating on that pantywaist Wong.  TD: Paul Wong happens to be a fine, upstanding wrestler here in the IIWF, Steve.  He's proven to be an excellent role model for the IIWF's younger audience, as well as for our Asian-American fans. SR: Exactly, and that's why the Machines are goin' down tonight, Dross. You got this goody-two-shoes Wong pairing with a hardcase like O'Neal, and those two ain't never gonna agree on _anything_.  I don't even understand why these guys are a team.  All I can figure is that Wong owes O'Neal money or something.  Nice Guy Pauly's the weak link here, Dross, and LFD's gonna take advantage of that. TD: Steve Roberts, that was probably one of the most astute, in-depth observations you've made at this table in quite some time. SR: Of course, on the other side, you've got that sexual tension brewing between Starr and Chaos.  I mean, these guys share locker space, shower stalls... can the silk pajamas be far behind? TD: I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, Steve. SR: Who do you think would wear the tops? Reggie or Jon-Jon? TD: [sighs] Let's go to the announcements. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| The Machines vs. Licensed For Devastation |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: SK [Sparkplug Lee, dressed as ever in his garish powder blue tuxedo, pulls a card from his pocket and raises his microphone to begin the introductions, but is abruptly cut off as a very large pair of ladies' underwear sails over the top rope and lands squarely on his head.  A harsh, female voice from the crowd cackles, "I need some SPARK in my sex life, Sparky!"  Lee turns a deep shade of scarlet, but nonetheless stuffs the underwear into his trouser pocket before once again raising the mic.] SR: [off-camera] Attaboy, Sparky!  ZZ Top said it best, Dross... "Every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man."  Whoo-hah! TD: Good grief. SL: Ahem... Ladies and gentlemen, welcome once again to the IIWF Coliseum! Tonight's opening tag team contest is scheduled for one fall.  Introducing first, at a total combined weight of 530 pounds, here are Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos... Licensed For Devastation! ["Down" by 311 blasts forth from the P.A. as Starr and Chaos emerge from the entranceway and stride down the aisle to a heavy heel pop from the crowd.  The grunge-clad Starr seems to be basking in the jeers and taunts from the ringside fans, holding his arms out to his "public", and grinning from ear to ear as he struts cockily down to the ring.  The massive Chaos, on the other hand, is the very picture of cool confidence, ignoring both the fans and his partner's antics as he makes his way purposefully down the aisle and climbs into the ring, followed by Starr.  Referee Dave D'Amato wastes no time in checking over the two partners for foreign objects and reminding them of the rules.] TD: Both men looking extremely confident here, Steve Roberts.  Licensed For Devastation do indeed appear to be a well-balanced tag team, with the high-flying Starr combining with the matwork and sheer power of his larger companion, Jonathan Chaos. SR: Did you just say "longtime companion", Dross? TD: I most certainly did not, Steve. SR: Chaos is a big, mean sonofagun, for sure.  Not too hard to tell who wears the pants in that pair.  Jon-Jon definitely gets the pajama bottoms. TD: Steve, please... SL: And their opponents, weighing in at a combined 503 pounds, here are Paul Wong... Simon O'Neal... the Machines! [David Gilmour's arcing guitar lines soar over the P.A. as "Welcome To The Machine" by Pink Floyd heralds the arrival of the popular Wong and the unscrupulous O'Neal, but long moments go by without an appearance from either man in the aisle.  The crowd begins to buzz as the Coliseum's house lights begin to dim slightly, and the huge video wall over the wrestlers' entrance suddenly flickers to life.] SR: Hey, this is new!  A video forfeit-gram! TD: I doubt that's what this is at all, Steve. [The video wall shows the near-empty bar familiar to viewers of "Countdown to Saturday Night." It appears to be a live feed, with the clock on the wall reading 8:07pm, and one figure is seen at the bar, his head in his arms, a shot glass in one hand. The figure, which would appear to be Simon O'Neal, is seemingly unconscious.] SR: I guess O'Neal never made it out of that bar, Dross. Looks like he's been drinking himself to death after he and Wong lost their bush league title a few days ago. TD: Well, you have to feel for any athlete who loses a title he has worked hard for, Steve -- whoa! Hang on! [Suddenly, the crowd explodes into life, as a huge four-way brawl erupts in the ring! Paul Wong and Simon O'Neal have rushed into the ring from the stands and jumped Licensed for Devastation from behind!] TD: It appears that the Machines are going for the throat tonight, Steve Roberts!  They managed to get Starr and Chaos to drop their guards with that video ruse, and now it truly is chaos in the ring, with all four men brawling at once right off the bell!  Referee Dave D'Amato's got to establish some order in there! SR: To hell with order, Dross!  This is what the fans paid the big bucks for!  I thought this was going to be a typical Saturday night snore-fest, but I've gotta admit, I'm impressed, and the Soundbite don't impress easy, baby dolls! [Dave D'Amato finally manages to send Simon O'Neal and Reggie Starr to their respective corners, leaving the two power specialists Wong and Chaos to face off.  The two big men circle each other warily, sizing each other up, before moving in to lock up collar-and-elbow.  Chaos immediately goes for a headlock, but the slightly smaller Wong goes behind, lifting the three hundred pound Chaos up and over for a back suplex!  Chaos quickly springs to his feet, and is just as quickly mowed down again with a huge lariat from Wong!  Big crowd pop!] TD: Paul Wong's really taking it to big Jonathan Chaos in there, Steve Roberts. SR: Hey, don't forget, Chaos is the tough guy, Dross. [Sure enough, as Wong soaks up the cheers, Chaos springs to his feet once more, and as Wong turns back to the big man he finds himself at the business end of a haymaker that connects with the Asian-American's left temple.  Wong crumples to the mat, and Chaos follows up the punch with a punishing elbow drop to the back of Wong's head.  As Chaos drags the stunned Wong to his feet, Reggie Starr calls out for the tag and places a boot on the top rope.  Chaos takes a moment to point menacingly at Simon O'Neal before running Wong over to LFD's corner and driving his face into the sole of Starr's boot!  Huge heel pop!] TD: Jonathan Chaos with a bit of a taunt at Simon O'Neal there.  I'm sure he's champing at the bit to get into the action. SR: He may not get the chance, Dross, not with Nice Guy Pauly in there. Tag in to the gay guy... TD: Steve... [Chaos tags off to Starr, who climbs the turnbuckle as Chaos scoops up Wong and slams him in the corner, slipping under the rope as Starr comes off the top with a legdrop across the throat of Paul Wong.  Starr drags Wong to his feet and sends him for the ride, setting him up for a lariat, but somehow Wong has the presence of mind to duck under Starr's arm!  The cheer from the crowd is short-lived, though, as on the second pass Starr catches Wong with a high cross body block!  Starr hooks the leg and goes for the cover: 1 - 2 - Simon O'Neal charges in and stomps on the back of Starr's head!  Starr clutches his head and rolls on the mat as Dave D'Amato stabs a finger at O'Neal and sends him back to his corner.] TD: O'Neal coming to the aid of his partner, Paul Wong, who after a fine start has been unable to mount much offense in there.  He's taken an incredible amount of punishment, Steve. SR: And if it were O'Neal instead of Wong, this match would be history, Dross.  That's the kind of thing a successful tag team has to do, and if only one guy's willing to do it, you're just gift-wrapping the win for the other guys. TD: I honestly don't believe one has to resort to such tactics to be successful, Steve Roberts. SR: That's because you're an idiot. [Starr shakes his head and rises to his feet, dragging Wong up with him, and sets him up for a suplex, which Wong blocks with a leg!  Starr tries again, and Wong once again blocks!  Now Wong, with an incredible burst of power, hoists Starr into the air and levels him with a suplex of his own! Big pop!  Both men, shaken, begin to crawl toward their respective corners. O'Neal and Chaos are both stretching out their hands, urging their respective partners on, and both tag out simultaneously!  As Wong and Starr roll out of the ring, spent, O'Neal and Chaos storm in!] TD: An incredible display of intestinal fortitude by both Wong and Starr, and now two fresh men are in the ring! SR: Hey, maybe Wong should tag with that "Cavalier" guy... they could call themselves "The Milquetoasts" or something... TD: Please, Steve. SR: No?  How about "The Hall Monitors"? TD: Can we _please_ focus on the match at hand? SR: Why bother, Dross?  After Casey James regains the World title tonight, nobody's even gonna remember this match even happened. [O'Neal and Chaos are in the ring now, and it's O'Neal who strikes first with a vicious chop to the throat of Chaos with his black-gloved hand.  The big man clutches at his throat, the chop seeming to hurt him badly, and O'Neal wastes no time in laying a few more knife-edges to Chaos' neck and chest area before slapping a reverse headlock on Chaos and driving him to the mat with a DDT!  Pop!  O'Neal, rather than going for another legal move here, elects to jump astride Chaos and choke him out, waiting for the four and a half count from D'Amato before breaking the chokehold.  O'Neal goes for a cover: 1 - pushoff by Chaos!] SR: The tough guy, Dross. TD: Indeed. [As both combatants rise to their feet, O'Neal complains to D'Amato that Chaos grabbed his hair, and D'Amato immediately moves to administer a warning to the big LFD member, who is still rubbing at his throat. Meanwhile, while the ref's attention is on Chaos, O'Neal begins digging into his trunks.] TD: Hello... what's O'Neal up to here? SR: Probably trying to make up for his lame-ass partner. [As Chaos turns back to face O'Neal, the Machine uncorks a roundhouse right that connects with the edge of Chaos' jaw, and Chaos drops as if he'd been shot with a .44 magnum!  O'Neal drops for the cover, and D'Amato doesn't seem to notice several quarters rolling around on the mat as he moves in to count: 1 - 2 - Reggie Starr, from ringside, puts his partner's foot on the rope!  O'Neal, frustrated, begins to pummel away at Chaos on the mat as Paul Wong drops to the floor and chases after Starr, who scampers under the ring apron like a rabbit.  As D'Amato barks at the two men outside to return to their corners, Chaos suddenly lifts a knee into O'Neal's groin, doubling him up in agony.  Now it's the resilient Jonathan Chaos who has the upper hand, dragging O'Neal up and spiking him into the mat with a quickly executed piledriver!  Meanwhile, Wong is in the process of dragging Reggie Starr out from underneath the ring, but as Starr emerges from under the apron, a fireball bursts to life in his right hand, and he flings it with murderous accuracy right into the face of Paul Wong!] TD: Oh my goodness!  Reggie Starr may have seriously injured Paul Wong with that fireball, Steve Roberts!  What a heinous, despicable act by Starr! SR: And you know what, Dross?  It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy! Ha!  Let's see if Chaos can cripple the other one now!  This is great! [Wong drops to his knees and clutches at his face in obvious pain while, up in the ring, O'Neal is sent for the ride by Chaos and caught off the ropes with a devastating powerslam!  As Wong flails about blindly on the floor, trying to find his way back into the ring, Starr makes his way back to his corner as Chaos almost takes O'Neal's head off in the ring with a short-arm clothesline.  As the jeers of the crowd reach fever pitch, Jonathan Chaos points down at the motionless O'Neal, then draws his finger across his neck, bellowing out, "It's over!" before moving to tag in Starr.] TD: Oh, this is terrible, Steve.  Paul Wong could have suffered permanent vision damage out there -- it's obvious he's having difficulty seeing, and now it appears his partner O"Neal is at the mercy of Licensed For Devastation. SR: You're damn right this is terrible, Dross.  I gotta admit, I kinda like this O'Neal kid -- this guy knows a roll of quarters is worth a helluva lot more than ten bucks -- but he's got lousy taste in partners, and now he's gonna pay the price.  Here comes the Breach Of Contract! [Sure enough, the tag is made, and Starr begins to once more climb to the top turnbuckle while, inside the ring, Chaos prepares to hoist up O'Neal for a powerbomb.  The crowd is going crazy, but not just because of the action inside the ring - outside, unseen by Starr or Chaos, Paul Wong has found a corner of the ring, and slips under the bottom rope and onto the mat!  As Starr leaves the top rope with incredible altitude for the flying legdrop half of LFD's finisher, Jonathan Chaos heaves O'Neal high up onto his shoulder with a loud grunt, which was all Wong needed to hear.  Wong throws himself blindly at the source of the noise... and takes the knees out from under Jonathan Chaos!  Pop!  Chaos and O'Neal collapse on top of Wong as Starr, suddenly deprived of his target, crashes awkwardly to the mat and lies there momentarily stunned.  Chaos, enraged, rises to his feet and begins putting the boots to Paul Wong in frustration, but quick as a flash, Simon O'Neal slips in behind the big man and rolls him up!   Dave D'Amato drops for the count: 1 - 2 - 3!  Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Here are your winners, as a result of a pinfall: Simon O'Neal... Paul Wong...THE MACHINES! ["Welcome To The Machine" once more echoes throughout the Coliseum as O'Neal, spent, rolls under the bottom rope and drops to the floor, lying there momentarily exhausted.  Meanwhile, Chaos and Starr are screaming at D'Amato, but as the referee departs, the two seething wrestlers find a new subject for their rage -- Paul Wong, who is still kneeling in a corner, rubbing at his eyes.  The Machine is utterly helpless as Starr and Chaos lay into him with savage kicks and punches.  A deafening heel pop swells in the Coliseum as LFD continues to brutalize Wong, and the Machine fans at ringside are screaming at the prone O'Neal to get up!] TD: This is an absolute outrage, Steve Roberts!  Paul Wong has been badly injured, and now he's being utterly manhandled by Licensed For Devastation! What's worse, Simon O'Neal doesn't seem to realise what's happening! SR: I think he knows exactly what's happening, Dross.  O'Neal had to carry that loser Wong that whole match, and if I were him, I'd let LFD slap him around a bit to smarten him up.  Hell, if I were O'Neal, I'd probably join in! [Outside the ring, Simon O'Neal slowly rises to his feet as the crowd eggs him on, and turns to see his partner in the ring being double-teamed mercilessly.  In an instant, O'Neal grabs a chair from ringside, and charges back into the ring!] SR: I told you, Dross!  O'Neal's gonna join in with LFD!  I love this kid! [O'Neal swings away with the chair, but his target is not Wong, but Reggie Starr!  Starr drops to the mat like a sack of potatoes as Jonathan Chaos turns to face O'Neal and is swiftly doubled over with a well-placed chair shot to the solar plexus!  Incredible pop!  Another shot to the back of Chaos' head, and both LFD members decide to cut bait, rolling under the ropes and making their way up the aisle, shouting insults at O'Neal  The Machine watches them like a hawk until they exit, before dropping the chair and tending to his fallen partner.  O'Neal takes one look at Wong and motions frantically to the timekeeper to call in the EMT crew, which promptly arrives at ringside.  Paul Wong is stretchered from the ring, and his eyes and face are wrapped in gauze as the medical team gurneys him up the aisle, with the vigilant O'Neal, chair in hand once more, leading the way to the exit as the crowd cheers them out. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, our best wishes for a speedy recovery go out to Paul Wong after what proved to be an exciting, albeit costly, victory for the Machines here tonight. SR: I take back what I said about that sap O'Neal, Dross.  He could have made a clean break here tonight and gone on to bask in the Soundbite's glory, but in the end he sided with the loser.  Birds of a feather, I guess. TD: They did get the win, Steve. SR: Whatever.                TD: Okay, folks, before our next match, let's take a look back at a classic match from the very first edition of IIWF Saturday Night -- here are some edited highlights of the battle royal to crown the inaugural Intercontinental Champion: [Cut to footage captioned, "IIWF Saturday Night: 25 May 1996." Big heel pop as the Outlaw comes down to the broadcast table, wearing the IIWF belt proudly around his waist. He laughs in derision at the jeering fans and joins Dross and Roberts. Roberts shakes his hand.] SR: Good to see you, Outlaw! MO: And you, Steve. [Turns to Dross] Nice hair, Dross. Whose is it? TD: [Patiently] If we're done exchanging pleasantries, shall we get on with the wrestling? MO: Fine by me... after all, the sooner the battle royal starts, the sooner another Horsemen victory party can begin. Steve, when either Flare or Bodybag leaves here with a second piece of gold for the trophy cabinet down in the Iron Den, you're invited - your little lady friend might just be there again, if you know what I mean! TD: We're just about ready to begin tonight's main event. Let's go down and get word from the ring announcer: RA: The next encounter is our main event, and is an over-the-top rope battle royal. All the competitors will begin in the ring, and the only way to be eliminated is to go over the top rope and touch the arena floor. The last man standing in the ring will be crowned the first IIWF Intercontinental Champion! [Big pop. The wrestlers come out to the ring. Flare and Brad Kinder come out together, with Victoria Secret. They are followed by El Lobo Negro, Casey James, Jack Haley, Altair, Hakiro Matsuoko, Billy Shakespeare, Tony Starks, Simon Lebec, the Crippler, Moondust, Don Antonio, Mr. Blu Tone... the ring is almost full, and there is an uneasy stillness. The Venusian Death Cell's cage is wheeled down to ringside, although he is not released.] SR: That creature is possibly the most dangerous force in the ring tonight. MO: Hey, if this guy ever cuts himself shaving, he could drive himself loco. Think about it! [Tiger Claw comes down to the ring without Brian Lau. He doesn't enter the squared circle, instead standing around ringside challenging the Psycho and the Angel of the Sun. Suddenly the lights go out. A few seconds they come back up again, and Deathbringer is standing in the centre of a now empty ring, all the other competitors having bailed out in the darkness. All the other wrestlers clamber back into the ring, and as Tiger Claw cannons into the Subway Psycho, the match begins. The Venusian Death Cell's handlers let him out of his cage, and he slides into the ring, immediately making a beeline for Jack Haley. He is intercepted by Deathbringer, who grabs him by the neck and throws him into a corner. Claw and the Psycho slug it out. Billy Shakespeare gets into a slug-fest with Mr. Blu Tone, and pushes him into the ropes. He delivers a sharp right-hand blow, and Blu Tone sails out of the ring over the top rope. Don Antonio begins beating on Deathbringer from behind, and the man from the dark side releases the VDC from his grip. Don Antonio is chokeslammed to the mat, while VDC again heads towards Haley. Haley sees him coming and almost takes his head off with a huge clothesline. VDC and Haley go at it. Haley scoops up the VDC and tries to dump him out of the ring over the top rope. Starks beats on Brad Kinder, and Flare chops away at El Lobo Negro. Moondust makes advances towards Simon Lebec, who greets the androgynous one with some hard right hands. Tiger Claw pummels the Subway Psycho with his knee fury, but Hakiro Matsuoko makes the save, hitting Claw in the back of the head with a savate kick. Flare clotheslines El Lobo Negro over the ropes to the outside.] RA: El Lobo Negro has been eliminated by Flare! [Haley backs the VDC into a corner, and holds him at bay. Deathbringer comes over to the corner, and between the two of them, 'Bringer and the Giant eject the Cell from the ring.] RA: The Venusian Death Cell has been eliminated by Deathbringer and Jack Haley. TD: Oh-oh, now the VDC's going to be really mad. MO: Hey, Dross, you're right - he's looking at you like you're a pork chop! [The VDC immediately goes nuts, and before his handlers can stop him, he tries to drag Jack Haley over the top rope. Deathbringer gives the Cell a helping hand, and shoves Haley to the arena floor.] RA: Jack Haley has been eliminated by Deathbringer! [The Cell is all over Haley, and there are echoes of the ringside mayhem from the Clash, as the handlers attempt to drag the VDC off the Giant. Eventually they shut the VDC back in his cage, and wheel it away from ringside. An incensed Haley runs up the aisle after the cage, nailing two of the handlers, and then uses his incredible strength to upend the cage. The VDC can be seen lashing around inside it, as Haley grabs a chair and starts beating the sides of the cage. The handlers, along with some more officials, eventually drag Haley away from the cage, and escort the Giant back to the locker room area. Meanwhile, back in the ring, Tiger Claw has turned his attentions temporarily to Don Antonio. He hits the Sicilian with a vicious spinning kick, sending Antonio sailing over the top rope and to the outside.] RA: Don Antonio has been eliminated by Tiger Claw. MO: [impersonates Brando] Oooh, and he coulda been a contenda. [Laughs] TD: Oh yeah, you're a riot. [Casey James battles Deathbringer. Starks turns his attentions to Flare. Billy Shakespeare slugs it out with Moondust. Brad Kinder turns on Simon Lebec. Hakiro Matsuoko ducks an attempted cross-body block by Altair, who sails out of the ring over the ropes.] RA: Altair has been eliminated! MO: And he's so stupid, he probably won't realise it until next week. TD: Will you please stop! [Matsuoko is set upon by Tiger Claw before he can get to his feet. Claw rains kicks and chops on the hapless Angel.] SR: Now this is the battle I've been waiting for, Dross. [The Psycho comes to Matsuoko's aid, nailing Claw from behind.] SR: Oh, that was real big, Psycho. What a man, attacking from behind! MO: I know the Psycho from a long way back. He doesn't have the heart to win this event. Maybe Mistress Sasha would like to manage a real champion like the Outlaw! [Matsuoko and the Psycho double team Claw, hitting him with a double clothesline. Meanwhile, Deathbringer picks Casey James up by the throat and dumps him over the top rope.] RA: Casey "Whitebread" James has been eliminated by Deathbringer! MO: Casey "CORNbread" James would be more like it. Truth, justice and the American way, huh? Don't make me puke. TD: That's too bad for Casey. [Moondust gets behind Billy Shakespeare and rubs his chest. Shakespeare retaliates with a hard elbow shot to Moondust's lower midsection, then piledrives him viciously.] SR: Looks like Shakespeare needs to develop a sense of humour. MO: I don't know, Steve. This guy, and I use the term loosely, is a bit too weird. He'd probably refuse the Intercontinental belt because it clashes with his outfit. [Suddenly, Flare is eliminated by the Crippler, who whips the Horseman into the corner with such force that he flies up over the turnbuckle and nearly lands in the front row of seating.] RA: Flare has been eliminated by the Crippler! TD: Wow! What a bump! [The Outlaw leaves the broadcast table and goes to tend to his partner. Bodybag gets the Crippler up against the ropes, and the Outlaw grabs him by the mask, dragging him out of the ring head first, Bodybag giving a helping hand from the inside. He then performs two Cattle Buster DDTs on the Crippler onto the arena floor. Big heel pop.] RA: The Crippler has been eliminated by Brad "Bodybag" Kinder! TD: Now there was no need for that! SR: Sure there was, Dross. You don't mess with the Horsemen. [As the Outlaw returns to the table.] Nice work, champ. [Moondust leans against the ropes. Billy Shakespeare runs at him and attempts to clothesline him out, but his momentum carries them both over. Moondust hits the floor hard, but somehow Billy keeps hold of the ropes and levers himself back into the ring. Big pop.] RA: Moondust has been eliminated by Billy Shakespeare. MO: Let's hope that's the last time Moondust is horizontal on the floor tonight, if you know what I mean. [Moondust throws a real tantrum, and starts beating his fist on the arena floor. Eventually he regains his composure, and blows a kiss at Billy Shakespeare before leaving ringside. Simon Lebec attacks Billy as he watches Moondust's little display in disgust, nailing him in the lower lumbar region and hitting him with a backbreaker. Lebec poses for the fans, and then delivers the "Showstopper" leg drop on his immobile foe. Big heel pop. Lebec drags Billy to his feet, and suplexes him out of the ring over the top rope! Huge shocked pop as Billy sails through the air. Luckily, he lands more or less on his feet.] RA: Billy Shakespeare has been eliminated by "Showstopper" Simon Lebec! TD: Wow, Lebec didn't show us much of that offence in his match against Shakespeare at the Clash! SR: You're right, Dross. That even surprised me! MO: Looks like the curtain just came down on that twerp Shakespeare. A little song, a little dance, a little Moondust down his pants... TD: Will you please stop! [Lebec mocks Shakespeare, pointing at his head, but is knocked from behind by a big boot from the Subway Psycho, sending him careering over the ropes.] RA: Simon Lebec has been eliminated by the Subway Psycho! MO: Well, that's one way to stop the show. [Billy Shakespeare, who is still standing around ringside, immediately starts beating on Lebec. The two of them brawl up the aisle, various referees and officials attempting to separate them.] TD: We've seen it so many times tonight -- the battle royal is the most dangerous match in all of wrestling precisely because if you turn your back on somebody, you'll pay... and you can't take too many falls from the ring like that. These are career-shortening matches. SR: Yeah, but in the case of little prima donnas like Shakespeare and Lebec, that's a good thing! [Hakiro Matsuoko attacks Deathbringer, and starts pummelling him with a number of high-impact martial arts chops and kicks. Deathbringer reels, but suddenly stops the Angel in his tracks with a chokeslam. Tiger Claw once again attacks the Psycho.] TD: Now we're down to six men - Tiger Claw, the Angel of the Sun, the Subway Psycho, Deathbringer, Brad Kinder and Tony Starks. [Bodybag and Starks go at it. Starks applies the cross-face chicken wing on Kinder, who struggles to get free. Deathbringer drags Matsuoko to his feet and lifts him up by the throat once more. However, Matsuoko manages to head-scissor Deathbringer in an amazing display of agility, and somehow finds the momentum to flip Deathbringer out of the ring with a sort of Frankensteiner move. Huge pop.] RA: Deathbringer has been eliminated by Hakiro Matsuoko! TD: Wow! I've not seen anything like that before! Matsuoko's not really had a chance to show us what he can do in this match, but if he keeps that up... SR: ...he'll still be eliminated by Tiger Claw. I'm just glad Deathbringer's out of there. MO: Yeah, may he rest in peace. Or preferably in pieces. [The Psycho nails Starks and forces him to release Bodybag. The Psycho leans up against the buckles. Claw attempts a spinning roundhouse kick, but the Psycho drops to the mat, and Claw gets entangled across the top buckle. The Psycho drives a boot into his mid-section. Meanwhile, Bodybag whips Starks into the ropes. Starks grabs the ropes and stops dead on the other side of the ring. Bodybag goes after Starks, and the two of them slug it out against the ropes. Matsuoko leaps into the air and hits a spinning leg lariat on both men, sending them sailing over the ropes and to the outside.] RA: Tony Starks and Brad Kinder have been eliminated by Hakiro Matsuoko! [Big pop.] MO: No way! I can't believe the way some wrestlers in this federation cheat to win! Bodybag was cheated right there! [Bodybag and Starks continue to brawl on the outside, until referees manage to separate them and drag them away from ringside.] Starks is on another kind of streak now - a losing streak! I whipped his butt last week, Bodybag whipped his butt right there, and I'm looking forward to making it three losses out of three next week when we meet again! I'll give that guy the beating of his life for costing the Horsemen more gold here tonight! [Matsuoko rests in one corner while the Psycho and Claw go at it. The Psycho signals to the Angel of the Sun that they should work together. Psycho holds Claw still while Matsuoko bounds to the top buckle. Matsuoko launches a kick at Claw, but the Thai boxer ducks out of the way, and the Psycho bears the full brunt of the impact. Claw floors the disorientated Matsuoko with a huge kick, and drags the woozy Psycho to his feet. There is an air of inevitability about the spinning heel kick that follows, driving the Psycho's head backwards, and the momentum carries him over the top rope and to the arena floor. Big heel pop as Claw stands jubilant in the ring.] RA: The Subway Psycho has been eliminated by Tiger Claw! MO: Looks like that subway car just got de-railed. Claw's got this match right in the palm of his hand now. SR: The man I picked from the start is our new IC champ! TD: Not until he eliminates Hakiro, gentlemen... [Claw drops an elbow on the exhausted Matsuoko. The heel reaction is huge as high-impact move after high-impact move finds the mark. Claw whips Matsuoko into the ropes, and hits him with his spinning flying leg lariat as he comes back on the rebound. Matsuoko is floored. Claw drags Matsuoko to his feet and hoists him up above his shoulders, preparing to dump him out over the top rope. At the last moment, Matsuoko shifts his weight and manages to straddle Claw's shoulders. Claw wobbles, and Matsuoko reaches down behind himself, grabbing the second rope, and then uses his incredibly strong legs to flip Claw over and out of the ring. Huge pop as Hakiro almost follows Claw out, but levers himself back into the ring with his arms. The crowd go wild.] RA: Tiger Claw has been eliminated by Hakiro Matsuoko! [Ding! Ding! Ding! A referee jumps into the ring and raises Matsuoko's arm in victory.] RA: Here is your winner - and NEW IIWF Intercontinental Champion - "Angel of the Sun" Hakiro Matsuoko! [Tiger Claw staggers to his feet, and looks ready to jump back into the ring, but he is restrained by officials around ringside. The best he can manage is a barrage of abuse before he is escorted back to the locker room area. IIWF President Dan Spreadbury comes down to the ring bearing the IIWF Intercontinental Championship, the belt gleaming brightly. He enters the ring and bows to Hakiro, who bows back in a display of respect, and accepts the belt as it is handed to him. Hakiro holds the belt aloft, and the fans cheer him hugely. The IIWF President leaves the ring, and fireworks shoot all around the arena in a breathtaking display. As Hakiro celebrates in the ring, cut back to live action, with Tim Dross and Steve Roberts at the broadcast table.] SR: Aw, those were the days, Dross. The Outlaw and the Soundbite doin' da commentary, eatin' da biscuits... nearly brings a tear to my eye. TD: What a great match that was, folks, and what a fine Intercontinental Champion in Hakiro Matsuoko. Well, back to the here and now for our next match here on this special fiftieth edition of IIWF Saturday Night. We're about to see a match that's been building ever since Timothy N. Turner made his debut here in the IIWF, as the Cavalier will finally get a chance to get his hands on a man so... well, there's no other word to use than deluded, folks, as to think that Christiansen would willingly subjugate himself to be a manservant or squire of some sort. SR: Have you been staying up late and reading or something? Since when     the hell have you known what "subjugate" meant? And is that a question I really want answered? TD: Well, I... SR: [butting in] More importantly, these nights you've been staying up     late have you been smoking anything? If you honestly think a pantywaist like the Cavalier has a chance in hell of beating a class act like Tim Turner, something in your brain must be fried. I don't care if Christiansen has the fans on his side, right on his side, chivalry on his side, or a big-assed sword he just pulled out of a rock, it's not going to be enough! TD: We shall see, Steve Roberts. We shall see. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Kevin Christiansen vs. Timothy N. Turner |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: JdW [Sparkplug Lee decides to take us one step closer to seeing, as he enters the ring confidently and gets the ring introdcutions started without a hitch for a change.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, at a weight of 230 pounds and accompanied by a, er, waiter, here is Timothy N. Turner! [Tony Bennett's "The Good Life" lets the crowd know in advance to boo, which they do heartily while TNT is just strutting out into the aisle. Where would we be without entrance music? Anyway, Turner is swaggering as usual towards the ring, cutting perhaps an even more confident figure than per usual if that is possible. He's closely trailed by a rather burly masked man, clad in a beautiful tuxedo who's carrying a very   expensive looking bottle of bubbly. The waiter, who's also thoughtfully brought two glasses with him, walks right behind Turner until they get to the announce table. Once there, the waiter rests both glasses, really nice long-stemmed crystal ones too, on the table, shuffling aside Tim Dross' notes to use them as coasters. The champagne is poured, and one glass is offered to the Soundbite, who's never apt to turn down free booze. Turner picks up the other, and offers a toast:] TT: I'd like to propose a toast -- to me!     [Both men take a sip of the very expensive champagne, then Turner gives his back to the waiter for safekeeping, and turns to strut into the ring, still arrogant as ever. Roberts, meanwhile, just looks at the glass and mouths "What the hell?" before doing the whole thing in one gulp.] SR: I'll drink to that! TD: You'd drink to just about anything, Steve Roberts. You once drank to     the result of a French soccer game. SR: Hey, for once my inside tips paid off with the bookie. Kids,     remember if you try to bet on European football at home, always bet on Paris Saint-Germain. That's how the Soundbite does it. TD: Good grief! [As Turner continues to strut in the ring, oblivious to the fact that very few of the fans are appreciating his histrionics, Sparky jumps back into the fray.] SR: ...and his opponent, hailing from London, England, at a weight of     265 pounds, he is Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiensen! [He may be a bit lighter than at the weigh-in, because he's not wearing his customary breast plate or any of the usual armour as he runs down to the ring, anxious to get his hands on Turner. The crowd starts to pop insanely as the Cavalier continues his mad dash, diving right into the ring to cause the timekeeper to franticly ring the bell in an attempt to keep up with the action.] TD: Oh my, this has turned into a slugfest right away! Christiansen with     a right hand... but it's returned by Turner. They're going blow for blow here! SR: It's a damn good thing Becky LaRue isn't here. TD: What? [pause] Look at this action in the ring, folks, the bigger     Christiansen is winning the slugfest almost uncontested now! [Indeed, Turner is just trying to cover up in the corner as an  uncharacteisticly agressive Cavalier opens up on him with punches. Finally, the barrage seems to be slowing down, so Turner is able to struggle to his feet only to be whipped hard, and face-first, towards the opposing set of turnbuckles. He hits hard, and the Cavalier is following close behind, soon after connecting with a clothesline to the back. He tries again, whipping Turner back to the original corner, but this time Tim's ready, so he grabs the ropes with his arms whilst approaching and leaps up to force the hard-charging Cavalier to crash. The Londoner doesn't, however, as he's also on the ball and stops, allowing Turner to land right on his shoulder. TNT realizes as soon as he's hit the shoulder that he's in trouble, so he starts begging for mercy, which is just getting the crowd more excited about him being dumped on his rear. The pleas are falling on deaf ears, as Christiansen runs quickly to the center of the ring, hitting a deadly shoulderbreaker. Turner sells it maybe a bit too well, then starts rolling to escape the ring before Christiansen can unload any more.] TD: Timothy Turner seems to be surprised with just how good his "servant" really is, and remember if he wins this match he'll forget about the Cavalier. I don't think, however, the Cavalier is ready yet to forget about _him_. SR: [To TNT.] That's it, take a breather and get your gameplan back on track. You won't have to... Look out, Timmy! [Turner hears the warning, and turns only to see the Cavalier flying towards him with a plancha. Turner tries to move, but it's too late and he's hammered back towards the security railing, which both men just barely graze. Christiansen, who's obviously still pretty fresh, gets up quickly and hauls Turner with him, moving to smash his head into the ring apron. Turner still has some wits about him, and he puts his hand down to block, leaving himself open elsewhere. The Cavalier notices this and plants an elbow in his gut, then brings his head back to smash it on the mat. With that all out of the way, he rolls Turner into the ring, and is about to follow himself. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he sees that masked waiter trying to sneak up on him, so Kevin squares around and invites him to try. The waiter just skulks back to a neutral corner, while the Cavalier rolls back into the ring and is caught by surprise with a poke to the eye.] SR: Just like that, things can get turned around! TD: Kevin Christiansen was totally, and I do mean totally in control of     this match, but when you've got a distraction on the outside and a lack of ethics, you don't need much to shift the momentum. SR: Hey, I resent that remark! You can't discriminate against those of us who are "morally challenged". Geez, you didn't even use the politically correct term, Dross! [TNT finally starts showing some offense, chopping a temporarily blinded Cavalier hard across the chest. He's taking his sweet time with the chops, too, making sure to grin madly after each one hits. After three knife-edge chops, Turner grabs the Cavalier's arm and starts twisting it out in an armwringer. He's just twisting and twisting as much as he can, but he goes a bit too far and Christiansen takes advanatage, falling to his knees and using his leverage for an amateur fireman's carry. Turner skitters across the mat, and lands on his knees, begging for the advancing face to stop. The Cavalier momentarily looks away in disgust, which is all the time Turner needs to hit an right cross reminiscent of Andrew Golota.] TD: This is despicable! The only time Turner seems to get any offense is     when it's illegal offense! SR: I know... it brings a tear to my eye to see the younger crowd picking up where I left off. This Turner kid is the best new blood we've seen in quite a while. [Turner once again has some time to showboat, so he really gets into it with an old time classic: the Fargo strut. His version isn't that bad, either, it certainly works to get the crowd even more against him. Christiansen is getting up, though, so Turner turns back to plant a boot into the gut of his would-be squire. TNT then grabs his foe around the neck and hits a huge running bulldog, the sound of which reverberates throughout the Coliseum. The Cavalier is turned over and pinned somewhat lazily for: 1 - 2 - but he kicks out! Turner, like so many before him in this situation, can think of nothing better to do but cover more emphaticly, but surprisingly enough he gets only two again.] TD: Turner certainly knows how to bend or break every rule, but he seems     to be having difficulty putting people away when he wants to. SR: Don't worry, there are a few things in the IIWF you can always depend on. Timothy Turner knows how to put people away, I know how to put beer away, Otto Verhoeven knows how to put paper champions away, Becky LaRue knows how to put condoms away, and Troy knows how to... TD: [interrupting, somewhat irritated] Let's not go there AGAIN, shall we? [Turner turns to official Dave D'Amato in amazement, wondering how anyone could not have counted to three there. At least he doesn't have an ego... While he's doing so, Christiansen is picking himself back up, sizing up the situation, and then striking. He spins Turner around, and the Canadian's only response is to throw a weak punch that the Cavalier easily blocks, returning one of his own. This is repeated, but Turner looks in no condition to throw a third punch. Christiansen takes a step back to rev up the crowd as well as get momentum, then he steps in and levels Turner with a right hand, knocking him onto his keister where he holds his jaw with one hand and writhes in agony, flailing the other arm. The Cavalier is not impressed as he's picking his nemesis back up and into suplex position. Turner doesn't even put up an attempt to block, and pays for it as he's side suplexed and covered for two. It wasn't close enough yet to a fall, so Christiansen ran off the ropes and brought a Turner just barely gets a shoulder up!] TD: I think that getting Christiansen mad was a mistake on the part of     this brash British Coloumbian. SR: We're supposed to dislike them at the moment, right Dross? Who the     hell cares about salmon anyway? TD: I'm sure quite a few people in the fisheries industry do, Steve Roberts. SR: Yeah, whatever. Look, you can't stay mad at a country like Canada.     Even you can't, Timmy. TD: [intrigued] Oh? And why's that? SR: Maple syrup, baby dolls. They make the maple syrup that goes so well     with your waffles. It's the same deal with the Belgians, you could never stay mad at them either. [Maybe our intrepid announce team can't stay mad at Canada, but the Cavalier still seems mad with one particular Canadian. Turner is whipped into the corner, but this time it's back-first and when the Cavalier starts charging, he notices the problem, namely that Turner's feet are up. It's too late to stop, though, so Christiansen ends up eating a size 11. Turner stalks him as he's stumbling back, and mows him down with a clothesline. Still not having learned anything from this match, Turner takes some time to gloat over his taking control of the match, then he drags Christiensen towards the ringpost, holding one leg in each hand. He's positionned in a rather tender setup, which starts looking worse when Turner rolls out under the bottom rope.] SR: [falsetto] Thou art a villain, but I am a eunuch now! TD: Turner is risking disqualification here, depending on what he tries     to do with the Cavalier. [Turner again grabs the legs at the ankles, but as he's setting up the Cavalier pulls back hard, forcing Turner to go careening into the post and collapse in a heap. Immediately, Dave D'Amato leaves the ring and starts towards Turner to check if he can continue the match. Christiansen, however, is working on continuing the match right away, as he rolls out under the bottom rope to wait for a verdict.] SR: Did you see that swelling around Turner's eye? I think that British     creep just gave him a shiner! TD: How appropraite would that be as revenge? A man concerned with his     appearance ends up with a big ol' fashionned black eye! SR: It just isn't fair! During a match with guys like Turner in it where     their faces are so attractive to the ladies, why not enforce a "no blows to the head" rule? TD: I believe a bush league out east tried that once... [Regardless of what they're doing in the minor leagues, here in the IIWF the Cavalier is being snuck up on by a masked waiter with a bottle of champagne. Somehow, despite all the cries of "Look out!", the Cavalier doesn't notice until the bottle hits him squarely over the head, shattering instantly and knocking him out like a sandbag. Well, we can assume sandbags would go out quickly, anyway... In any event, Turner's just started getting up by now, so D'Amato turns to see the waiter backing away from the scene of the crime. Turner walks over and picks up the knight, who's still in La La Land, and rolls him back into the ring. Despite the beginnings of a black eye, and some minor bruising elsewhere on his face, Turner valiantly fights his way to the top rope. When he arrives, he's as always hamming it up, pointing to the ceiling to indicate that he's going to jump. Jump he does, too, flying off with a top rope elbowdrop that... that... connects! After that, the attempted cover is fairly academic, but D'Amato still counts for the record: 1 - 2 - 3!] SR: Yes! The TNT elbowdrop wins the day for Turner! TD: Actually, a champagne bottle, outside interference, and heavy     cheating won the day for Turner. SR: Even better! [The masked waiter sprinted towards the ring to help Turner celebrate to about as much heel heat as a waiter's ever received in the IIWF. The crowd are shocked, however, when they see him start to take his mask off...] TD: Oh my gosh! I knew he was kind of burly for a waiter, but did anyone     expect this? SR: Yes! Maybe there's hope for Duncan yet! Masked waiter... I love that     gag! Macbeth, you are the man! [The boos continued for the fiery Scot and his Canadian compadre, so they figured they might as well earn them with a post-match beatdown. Both men went over to the still down and out Cavalier and start using fairly basic beatdown tactics: kicks to the ribs, slaps to the back of the head, short, crisp legdrops, etc. The party is very quickly broken up, however, when Ryan Howard appears at the top of the entranceway and starts sprinting towards the ring.] SR: It's Opie! We're gonna have a brawl! Send all the new guys out here,     and let 'em duke it out! Send the Fury! Send my boyz in the Age! Hell, send Steve Owens! [Howard dove right into the ring and charged at the two aggressors, hitting a double clothesline from behind that shook both men up. Macbeth gets up seeing red, and then seeing an enemy. Understandably, he makes a beeline for Howard, but the "Intrepid" one grabs Macbeth's hair while he passes and uses it to sling him over the top rope. Meanwhile, the Cavalier has gotten back to his feet, and he gains some small revenge by dropkicking TNT over the top rope to land beside Macbeth. Neither of those men want to bother getting back in the ring, so they both walk up the aisle, arms raised in victory, except for TNT who's holding his eye. The ever ready Sparkplug Lee makes it official from his seat, having missed his chance before the brawl when he saw someone who he thought was Heather Locklear near a concession stand.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match is Timothy N. Turner! TD: How about that, ladies and gentlemen, "Intrepid" Ryan Howard makes an appearance to save the Cavalier, although one might suggest it was more so to attack Duncan Macbeth than to help Kevin Christiansen. SR: Does it matter why he was out there? What matters is he ruined a     great beating. These fans all wanted to see Kevin get the hell beat out of him as much as I did. You know, he's just like his namesakes in Cleveland: boring, slow, lousy win-loss record, little or no offense. TD: You're out of line! SR: I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult the Cavs, I mean any     city that produces Luke Steele is at a disadvantage athleticly     anyway, so I shouldn't poke fun when they have that kind of handicap. [This kind of banter could go on all day, but it gets broken up when Howard turns to see there's no one else in the ring but Christiansen. Having nothing better to do, he levels the aspiring knight with a spinning heel kick! The crowd start to pop insanely as both men brawl on the mat, firing body shots back and forth. The JJS, who hadn't shown up the first time for some reason, arrive double quick now, streaming towards the ring as if shot out of a cannon. Or maybe Prez Spreadbury's been yelling at them over response time again. In any event, they're soon surrounding the ring and waiting for the signal from Ned Norton.] SR: Damn, another good fight about to be broken up! TD: Steve, be quiet! [The signal is given, and the various scrubs descend like a plague on our two combattants. Knowing it's now over, neither puts up much of a fight as they're being lead away from ringside. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, finally all the action in this one has subsided, but the action in tonight's show is just heating up. SR: No, it isn't. There's a couple of real crapfests on later tonight. TD: Steve! Please, most people try to avoid badmouthing the company that     employs them on national TV. SR: Well, I'm not most people. TD: You can say that again. SR: Well, I'm not most people. TD: Sigh. Take my Soundbite, please! Anyway, our next encounter should be a really exciting match, Steve. Billy Shakespeare taking on not one... not two... but _three_ IIWF superstars in one night, indeed in one match. This is indeed a "Shakespeare Trilogy!"     SR: Yeah, like I care. I guess all this lack of attention is getting to     the little egomaniac, Dross. He hadda do something to get back into     the limelight somehow!     TD: Thank you, Steve, for your detailed analysis of the situation. Let's     go down to ringside for Sparkplug Lee...     SR: [interrupting] Whoa! Hold on there, Drossmeister! The director just     informed me that we've got some last minute footage of Tonnage!     TD: Well then, by all means let's see it. [The screen briefly shows a black screen with the gleaming IIWF logo before reforming into the dressing room area, where the hulking form of Tonnage sits] T: I'm here in my dressing room, naturally, to give a few last-minute    comments before showtime.  Enjoy them while they last.    BS, what's left to say?  There's only so many ways I can tell you    that I'm going to stomp your ass before I start to repeat myself, so    just let me say that you should alert your next of kin, and leave it    at that.  I do have to speak to somebody else about you, though.    Lau, you're simply wrong.  The person doing all the underestimating    here is Shake-n-Bake. All that fool sees is a little gut around my    waist, and all too common error amongst my victims.  I've fought    dozens of guys that make this half-wit chump look like cold Kraft    Dinner; I'm giving him more credit than he deserves.  You go right    ahead and debate whether I'm fat with yourself, numbskull.  My    doctor would beg to differ.  As a matter of fact, I've got a perfect    way that you can discover the truth.  I'll wrap these 30 inch arms    around your puny head, and squeeze for a while, and you can argue    with *them* over my supposed weight problem.  Maybe you'll find out    something before your pea brain oozes out your ears...but I doubt    it.    As for you, Jerich-off, I can't wait to dismantle your punk ass.  In    fact, I might not wait until another day...I just might have my way    with you after I've pulped BS.  It wouldn't be the first time I've    wrestled two toads in the same day, and wiped them both out.  But    I'll let you sweat over that one before I make my final decision.    Alright, that's all you get.  I've got a few reps to do for a    warmup before I dispose of this cretin, and I don't want to waste    any more time.  Don't catch your fingers on the way out.     [Once again the black screen and IIWF logo appears, then it's back to the arena with Steve Roberts and Tim Dross. Big crowd pop as Sparkplug Lee enters the ring, clutching his microphone and brightly crayoned cue cards.] SR: Y'know, sounds to me like Billy Shakespeare is going to become     "Billy _Scrape_speare", as in we're gonna need a spatula to get him     out of the ring, Dross.     TD: Once again, ladies and gentlemen, amazingly intelligent analysis     from our very own "Soundbite". But, before Steve can say another     word, let's get down to Sparkplug Lee for the match.     SR: Hey! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| FINAL ACT CHALLENGE: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare vs. Sebastian Jericho, Tonnage & Ronnie Paris ....................................................................... WRITER: MG [Cut to Sparkplug Lee standing in the ring:] SL: Ladies and Gentlemen, making his way to ringside is a former IIWF     intercontinental and IIWF cruiserweight champion! Weighing in at 230     lbs, and hailing from Ashland, Oregon (big crowd pop!) he is the men     "Born To Perform"! He is .... SR: [over headset, very quickly interrupting] DeadDoomedToastRoadkill! SL: BILLY SHAKESPEARE! [The arena lights dim before a raucous combination of coloured spotlights sweep erratically about the crowd and "Little Willie" begins to play! Big pop, though seemingly an uncertain one as Billy Shakespeare enters the arena, highfiving fans along the aisle as he makes his way to the ring. Somersaulting over the top ropes triggers a brightly coloured cascade of whirling fireworks. Big pop, though again an uncertain one. It seems Shakespeare's stock with the fans is not as high as it once was, a fact which does not go unnoticed by Shakespeare, whose face hardens in resolve.] TD: My goodness! That was quite an entrance for Billy Shakespeare, who     is looking very intense indeed as he awaits Sebastian Jericho!     SR: Yeah, that was a pretty hot entrance, Dross. Still, when you know     it's going to be your last, you like to make a lasting impression.     SL: And the first of _three_ opponents... He hails from Kalamazoo,     Michigan and weighs 256lbs, here is ... SEBASTIAN JERICHO!     ["My Name Is Mud" begins to boom over the PA system as the young newcomer to the IIWF enters the arena to an uneven welcome from the crowd. Pointing to Shakespeare, he signals that Shakespeare is 'going down', a signal that Shakespeare ignores] SR: Doesn't look like these two guys are friends, Dross. TD: What is the phrase young Summer uses? Ah, yes: "Duh". SR: Hey, don't be trying to be hip and trendy, Dross. With that rug     stapled to your head your brain's liable to overheat.     TD: And as Jericho enters the ring the bell goes! The match is now     officially underway!     [Jericho and Shakespeare lock up in the centre of the ring, both men struggling for dominance as they seek out the weaknesses of their opponents. Finally it is Jericho who simply outpowers Shakespeare, sending him flying to the turnbuckle. Big pop!] SR: Hey, impressive strength from Spike! TD: Possibly, but Shakespeare seemed a little hesitant to me, Steve. [Jericho charges the corner, launching himself into the air for a big splash, but there is nobody there as Shakespeare narrowly slips out of the corner! Big pop as Jericho hits the corner hard and rebounds off hard] SR: Hey, impressive stupidity from Spike. What did I tell ya, Dross?     Big on muscles but a bear of very little brain!     TD: And Shakespeare catches him with a rollup! The referee is down on the mat counting! NO! Jericho powers out at two and a half! [Jericho is down on the mat as Shakespeare climbs to the second turnbuckle and launches himself into the air, Jericho being unable to get out of the way of a big legdrop. Shakespeare tries for the pin again, but Jericho gets a shoulder up. Shakespeare rolls Jericho onto his front, latching onto Jericho with a sleeperhold.] SR: Boring. [Jericho reaches out and grasps the rope, forcing Shakespeare to break the hold. Pulling Jericho to his feet, Billy prepares for a DDT, but is backdropped for his trouble by Jericho.] TD: And now Jericho once more has the advantage as he lifts Shakespeare     off the mat and -- belly to belly suplex! He nailed Billy with     that! What speed and power went into that move, Steve Roberts!     [The referee drops to the mat, his hand plummetting down once... twice... thre- NO! Billy Shakespeare kicks out with bare milliseconds to spare] SR: Lookit that, Dross. Spike didn't hook the leg! Jeez, what a dork. [Jericho drags Shakespeare to his feet, whipping him into the ropes and catching him on the rebound with a running clothesline! Shakespeare spins in the air and lands face first! BIG crowd pop! Jericho looks around wildly and signals...] TD: The Kalamazoo Clutch! Jericho's going for the Kalamazoo Clutch! If     he gets this it's over for Shakespeare!     SR: Good. Maybe we could get onto something decent, for a change. [In the ring Sebastian Jericho has hit the Kalamazoo Clutch, a deadly and unorthodox submission move. Shakespeare writhes in pain, but seems unable to escape it's deadly embrace. The referee drops to the mat, asking Shakespeare if he wants to submit.] TD: Amazing, Steve Roberts! Billy Shakespeare will not submit! This     young man may have had his problems in his past, but he still has     the heart of a lion! The word "quit" just isn't in his dictionary!     SR: Big deal. The word "xiphisternum" isn't in mine. [Shakespeare still will not submit, despite the tears of agony slowly dripping down his face. Jericho tightens the hold, really wrenching back and exerting indescribable force on Shakespeare's neck! The referee is still down on the mat, and so does not see...] TD: Wait a minute! That's The Highwayman! That's Scott Rogers! SR: "Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war", Dross! TD: Very impressive, Steve. Shakespeare from the "Soundbite", fans! SR: Shakespeare? Nah, some klingon guy in one of them Star Trek films. TD: Regardless. Yes indeed, ladies and gentlemen, two veritable "dogs     of war", Scott Rogers and The Highwayman have come down to ringside.     What can they be up to, Steve Roberts? Who are these members of     Genesis after? Wait, what is in that bag that Rogers is carrying?     SR: Who cares? I don't like these guys, Dross, but at least they'll     liven things up a bit. Getting to be a snoozefest up there!     TD: A snoozefest? Steve, Billy Shakespeare has been in that deadly     Kalamazoo Clutch for close to five minutes without submitting! Any     lesser man would have submitted minutes ago!     SR: Snooze, snooze, snooze. Ho-hum. Boy, am I tired all of a sudden. [Back in the ring Jericho looks at the Genesis members cautiously, but all Scott Rogers does is wink and give a huge thumbs up. Heel pop! Meanwhile, Shakespeare is almost unconscious, but rallies as he hears the crowd chant his name: "SHAKE-SPEARE! SHAKE-SPEARE!"] TD: And the cries of the crowd seem to bring new energy into Billy     Shakespeare, Steve Roberts! At long last, Billy Shakespeare has     heard the sound he has been wanting to hear for such a long time:     the crowd solidly behind him! Incredibly, a reinvigorated Billy     Shakespeare is reaching toward the rope!     SR: He won't make it, Dross. It's too far away. Which is good news for     Sebastian Jericho, and me for that matter. Never did like the little     creep. Hospitalize him, Spike!     [The roar of the crowd, chanting his name over and over and over, seems to bring new energy to Shakespeare, and he slowly begins to crawl toward the rope. Jericho cannot believe it, and tries to reign him in by exerting more pressure, but Billy Shakespeare is having none of it as he slowly and surely crawls, seemingly via his fingertips only, toward the rope. Massive Face Pop!] TD: What amazing stamina from Billy Shakespeare, Steve Roberts! He is     really determined to "perform" here tonight in front of a capacity     audience! Billy is really putting his heart and soul into his     performance tonight! SR: I "performed" in front of a capacity audience once. Best weekend of     my life. Ah, Heidi... Svetlana... Inga... Happy memories, Dross.     TD: I have no idea what you're talking about, Steve Roberts, and I think     it's best if I, and the rest of our viewing audience, never find     out.     SR: Your loss. Damnit, Dross, looks like Shakespeare is at the ropes.     Jericho, you idiot!     [Sadly for Steve Roberts, Billy Shakespeare has indeed reached the ropes. The referee orders a break, Jericho releasing the Clutch but pulls Shakespeare to his feet, and lifts him up high in a gorilla press. However, as Shakespeare is lifted he somehow manages to slide out, and lands behind Jericho. Shakespeare gets a waist lock on Jericho and...] TD: What a move from Billy Shakespeare, pulled suddenly out of mid air     when all seemed lost! Shakespeare with a huge belly-to-back suplex,     and he bridges! Jericho is in a pinning predicament as the referee     counts!     [Jericho wriggles frantically, and manages to escape at the last second. Big disappointed pop from the crowd! Jericho staggers to his feet, looking wildly around] TD: Jericho hit hard, Steve Roberts, in fact I think he hit the back of     his head. He may be concussed out there...     SR: How in the hell would you be able to tell with dog boy out there?     Besides, his head's too tough for that kind of sissy concussion crap! [Back in the ring Jericho looks confused, but Billy Shakespeare is out on the mat, the suplex seemingly taking it all out of him. His hair is plastered to his head with sweat, and a small trickle of blood oozes from his nose.] SR: Alright! Shakespeare's hardcore, Dross! [Jericho looks wildly around, then he at last sees Shakespeare. He squints, as if uncertain of what he is seeing, but then goes over to the recumbent form of Billy Shakespeare...] SR: See? Head's almost as hard as his water bowl, Dross. No worries. Now     Fido is slowly rolling Pukespeare over, and drops on top. Aw, he     doesn't hook the leg. Bad boy! Bad! I oughta rub his nose in it...     [Billy Shakespeare feebly manages to get his shoulder up at the last moment, Jericho slowly reaching his feet and taking Shakespeare with him.  He whips Shakespeare to the ropes, ducking his head in readiness for a backdrop...] TD: Shakespeare leapfrogs over Jericho, he's coming off the ropes and -     NO! Scott Rogers pulls the ropes down just as Billy is about to     bounce off them, and Shakespeare tumbles out of the ring to land     hard on the outside!     [There is a massive heel pop as Shakespeare lands hard. Jericho reacts to the sound, and sees Highwayman up on the ring apron on the other side of the ring. The referee is already berating him as Jericho approaches, looking confused and bewildered. As the Highwayman distracts the befuddled Jericho and the equally clueless referee, Scott Rogers picks up the barely conscious Billy Shakespeare, gorilla pressing him high in the air and ...] TD: Oh my goodness! This is repulsive, Steve Roberts! [Scott Rogers lets Billy Shakespeare drop... all the way down to a stainless steel security barrier at ringside! HEEL POP! Billy Shakespeare hangs suspended over the barrier seemingly for an eternity but Rogers quickly picks him up and drapes him over one shoulder, running toward the ringpost and slamming the back of Billy Shakespeare into the solid steel ringpost! Another heel pop! The referee, hearing the sound, starts to turn but is quickly pulled back to attention as the Highwayman grabs one of the camera men up on the apron, forcing the cameraman to focus upon him...] HWM: Watkins, you may be smart enough to outwit a moron like Creed, but     you might as well give it up now, old man! You haven't got a hope in hell of standing against the might of Genesis! That belt will be mine!     [The cameraman is released as the referee pulls the Highwayman away. Meanwhile, Jericho has turned to see where Shakespeare is. He sees Shakespeare lying in the ring, seemingly unaware of Scott Rogers involvement. Rogers points toward Shakespeare and winks knowingly.] TD: What is this, Steve Roberts? Why has Scott Rogers so brutally     attacked Billy Shakespeare, seemingly for no reason? What is it with     the winks? Can it be? Can Jericho have allied himself with Genesis?!     SR: Who cares? In my book you don't need any excuse to give Pukespeare a     beating.     TD: What? How can you say that? SR: It's true. It's in appendix B of "Cheating For Dummies"! The fourth     edition was published just two short weeks ago! $14.95 from all good     book shops, and a whole load of dodgy ones too! Buy it, morons!     TD: I don't believe this. What did the IIWF officials tell you about you     using IIWF airtime to advertise your products, Steve Roberts?     SR: They told me it was okay as long as they got their cut. TD: They did not! [Jericho launches himself into the air, connecting with a big elbow to the sternum of Billy Shakespeare, who does not react at all. It seems Shakespeare is out as Jericho erratically covers him. 1 -- 2 -- Crowd pop!] TD: Shakespeare has a foot on the ropes! Incredible, Steve Roberts! Just     listen to that crowd cheer on Billy Shakespeare! SR: Oh, yeah. Like putting a foot on the ropes is heroic. [The referee forces the break, and Shakespeare slowly rolls to the outside, landing with a bump on the protective matting outside. But there is no rest for the wicked as Sebastian Jericho follows him outside] TD: This could be a mistake on Jericho's part. For that matter, it could     be a mistake on Billy's part, Steve.     SR: Yeah, _that's_ insightful. Wait a minute, what the [BLEEP] is that? [The camera zooms in closely at ringside, revealing... an ice bucket? Jericho sees it, and smiles broadly as he lifts it up...] TD: Oh, no. Oh, no! Scott Rogers must have left it at ringside! Jericho     is in with that pack of dogs, Genesis!     SR: Huh? Because they left a bucket around? It's hardly damning     evidence, is it Dross?     [Jericho pulls Shakespeare to his feet. Big _confused_ pop as Jericho slams the bucket over Shakespeare's head, but the crowd quickly reacts with horror as...] TD: Jericho whacks the bucketed head of Billy Shakespeare into the ring     steps! We're seeing the Jericho/TNT match over again, Steve Roberts!     SR: Yes! It's "The Bucketing"! Hit him again, Dog Boy! [Jericho slams the bucket protected head of Shakespeare into the ringsteps again - CLANG! And again - CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! Jericho only stops when the referee count reaches danger levels, whipping the bucket off to reveal...] TD: What a horrible thing to do, Steve Roberts! Poor Billy Shakespeare     can hardly walk, and now he can hardly see a thing as he waits for     his eyes to uncross!     SR: I'm telling ya, Dross, young Jericho is gonna go far with that move.     That is the most inventive finishing move I've ever seen! And it's     damn funny too!     [Jericho picks up the unresisting Shakespeare and throws him through the second rope, entering moments later and grinning wildly as he drapes himself over Shakespeare. Big negative pop as the referee counts!] TD: And still Billy Shakespeare will not quit! Kick out from Billy! SR: I notice you don't say "Kick out with authority", Dross. TD: What on Earth? What is he doing here? Fans, Tonnage is now making     his way down to ringside! He doesn't even know if Shakespeare will     win, Steve! There might not be a second match!     SR: Geez, Dross, it's normally _you_ who's reading _me_ the fine print.     Even if Shakespeare is beaten by Jericho, he still has to face     Tonnage!     TD: WHAT?! Billy Shakespeare is in no fit state to face this mountain of     a man, this monster, this behemoth called Tonnage!     SR: I know. Ain't it great? [Jericho seems concerned at the huge behemoth's presence, and goes to speak to the monster wrestler. Microphones cannot pick it up, but it appears a heated war of words is going on out there, with Jericho gesturing for Tonnage to step in the ring now. Tonnage laughs, and mimes breaking something with one hand tied behind his back.] SR: Hey hey hey! This looks interesting! Think we could see a slight     change to the card, Dross? With Shakespeare in a coma we need     somebody to take on the big guy - why not Jericho?     TD: Shakespeare is not in a coma, Steve. Don't sell Billy Shakespeare     short, and you certainly don't want to turn your back on him, as     Jericho seems to be doing.     SR: Wake up and smell the coffee, Dross. Shakespeare's written his last sonnet. "To sleep, perchance to dream", Timbo. TD: Hamlet. SR: Yeah, and he was talkin' about the _big_ sleep, if you know what I     mean. I'm guessin' Pukespeare does about now. Wait a minute... Aw, I     don't believe this crap. What is he, the energizer freakin' bunny?     [Huge pop as Shakespeare slowly climbs to his feet, waiting patiently for Jericho to turn, poised to deliver a big superkick. Tonnage grins and says "Look behind you" nastily] SR: Yeah, right. Like he'd fall for that old trick. Oh. Oh, damn. He     should, right?     [Jericho is having none of it, and steadfastly refuses to look behind him. So he doesn't see Shakespeare grow sick of waiting and deliver a big enzuigiri, Shakespeare's foot lancing through the air and clocking him upside the head. Big pop as Jericho falls to the mat like a sack of rocks. Huge pop!] TD: And just like that the match is turned right around! Cover him,     Billy!     [But Shakespeare is eyeing the wildly grinning Tonnage, and doesn't go anywhere near Jericho, who is too near the ropes (and thus Tonnage) for Billy Shakespeare's liking. Instead he goes to the turnbuckle across the ring and shakily climbs it, clutching his back as he reaches the top] SR: What on earth is that whacko doing, Drossmeister? TD: Your guess is as good as mine, Steve Roberts. SR: Probably better, actually. [Slowly Jericho gets to his hands and knees, seeing Tonnage outside the ring who simply smiles and shrugs, as if to say "Hey, it wasn't me". Making his way to his feet he looks about, trying to find Shakespeare. When he sees him on the turnbuckle his eyes widen in abject horror, and he starts to move, but he is too late... too late...] TD: HUGE Dropkick from the top rope, Steve Roberts! How in the world is     Billy Shakespeare doing this? Wait, he's not pinning him!     SR: Mistake, Dross. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. TD: We get the idea, Steve. SR: Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. TD: Yes! Thank you, we comprehend. Now Billy Shakespeare is waiting for     Sebastian Jericho to get to his feet, he appears to be like a cat,     waiting to pounce... SR: Sure that wouldn't be a cat waiting to use the litter tray, Dross? [Jericho slowly, groggily, gets to his feet. He appears to be out on his feet, and he slowly turns to try and locate Shakespeare. With this, Shakespeare is in motion, rebounding off the ropes and...] TD: Oh my goodness! The "Final Act"! What a move from a desperate Billy     Shakespeare!     [The crowd go CRAZY as Jericho plummets to the ground, the victim of a deadly somersault DDT! Billy Shakespeare drops to the ground, covering Jericho and hooking the leg, almost as an afterthought. The referee drops to the mat... 1 - 2...] TD: He got it! He got it! Billy Shakespeare beats Sebastian Jericho with the deadly new finishing move known as "The Final Act"! What a performance from a battle weary Billy Shakespeare! SR: Yeah, it was pretty good, Dross. Woulda been an excellent match, but     of course then it wouldn't have been a Billy "Born To Bore"     Shakespeare match.     [An almost unbelievably loud crowd pop as an exhausted Billy Shakespeare clutches his back in pain as he carefully rolls off of Jericho, who groggily gets to his knees, shaking his head and seemingly wondering what exactly hit him. He sees the jubilantly grinning Tonnage on the outside, and his face darkens...] SR: Uh-oh. One flattened puppy coming up... Will that be with fries? [Jericho staggers to his feet, and then catapults himself over the top ropes onto Tonnage, who is more surprised than affected as he seemingly effortlessly catches Jericho in midflight! BIG pop!] TD: This does not look good for Sebastian Jericho, Steve Roberts. SR: I hate to agree with ya, Dross, but I agree. Jericho is one little     puppy that's about to be squashed by a big 18-wheeler. Roadkill,     dude! Get the ASPCA in on the case! If we get him to a veterinarian     quick he might pull through.     [Tonnage rams Jericho into the ringpost, and then drops him to the mat where Jericho lies dazed. Tonnage signals for a splash to an unbelieving heel pop! Tonnage falls...] SR: Oh, darn. TD: Fortunately for Sebastian Jericho, he had enough presence of mind to     get out of the way of that huge descending body, Steve.     SR: More's the pity. [Tonnage slowly gets to his feet, where an irate Sebastian Jericho is waiting for him, sending stinging blows to the face, followed by a chop to the throat which seems to have some effect, if only slight. A huge punch from Tonnage sends Jericho flying toward the railing as Steve Roberts gets to his feet and points toward the ring...] SR: Hey, big guy! Quit spanking the puppy and go beat up someone more     deserving!     [Amazingly, as a veritable army of referees swarm down to ringside to seperate the two, Tonnage does indeed seem to take heed of Steve Roberts and makes for the ring...] TD: Good going, Steve. SR: Thanks, Dross. Hey! Are you being sarcastic? TD: Me? [Tonnage climbs the ring steps and enters the ring, an insensate Billy Shakespeare still laying on the mat, clutching his back in pain. Big heel pop as Tonnage points to Shakespeare and mimes splatting him like a fly meeting a rolled-up newspaper at speed] SR: Pukespeare doesn't even know Tonnage is in there, this really oughta     be short and sweet, Dross. Go for it, big fella! Put Shakespeare out     of my misery!     [Tonnage approaches the still unmoving form of Billy Shakespeare, and launches himself into the air for a splash...] TD: NO! [Big crowd pop as Billy Shakespeare rolls out with mere nanoseconds to spare. The ring echoes as Tonnage lands hard, the big man getting slowly to his feet with a look of anger on his face...] SR: Good going, bright boy. You could have lost with only excruciating     agony, but nooooo... you had to go and get him mad. Now it's gonna     really sting...     TD: As Tonnage gets up Billy Shakespeare nails him with a dropkick...     to absolutely no effect, Steve Roberts!     SR: I'm betting that tickled at most, Dross mang. TD: Excuse me? [Tonnage grabs Billy Shakespeare, sending him hurtling into the ropes and sending Shakespeare skidding into the mat as he hits a big boot to the face. Heel pop! Shakespeare climbs groggily to his feet, clutching his back with one hand as he checks out his nose with the other.] SR: Oh, wow. Billy's got a nosebleed. He's hardcore, everybody! [Tonnage offers a collar and elbow, but Shakespeare wisely refuses. Instead, Shakespeare rebounds off the ropes, sending a huge flying shoulderblock Tonnage's way. Tonnage staggers back... about an inch. Disbelieving pop!] SR: Face it, Pukespeare, you're [BEEP]ed! There is nothing you can do     against a man this big and powerful.     TD: Don't count Billy Shakespeare out just yet, Steve. SR: Oh yeah, sure. Dross, unless Shakespeare has been eating spinach by     the containerload he's outweighed and thoroughly outclassed, with a     really big difference in power. We're talking a duracell against a     dirty great nuclear reactor, bud.     [Back in the ring Billy Shakespeare is rolling around on the floor, clutching his back in obvious pain] SR: Oh yeah, and his back is screwed too. [Tonnage picks up the barely moving Shakespeare. Powerbomb! Big heel pop as Shakespeare writhes in agony, practically bouncing along the ring like a fish out of water. Tonnage drops to one knee and holds Shakespeare down with one hand. Big heel pop at the arrogance! The referee drops and counts... 1... 2... Shakespeare has a shoulder up! Big pop!] TD: You're ... SR: [interrupting] No! TD: Excuse me, Steve? SR: Do _not_ say "You're not going to pin Billy Shakespeare that easily,     Steve Roberts." Please, Dross, I'm begging ya... don't say that!     It's so... cliched. I hate it.     TD: Well, _excuse_ me. [Tonnage pulls Shakespeare up for another powerbomb, but amazingly Billy somehow manages to pummel away at Tonnage's face as he goes up, raking the eyes and forcing Tonnage to drop him. Big pop! However, Shakespeare is down, and Shakespeare is hurt. Again he clutches his back as Tonnage staggers back to recover from the rake.] TD: What a desperation move from Billy Shakespeare, Steve Roberts. SR: Oh, sure... when _your_ favourites rake the eyes it's a "desperation     move" but when the people _I_ like do that...     [Billy Shakespeare adopts a new approach, kicking away at Tonnage's monstrous leg. Moving around, Shakespeare lashes out at behind the knee. Tonnage roars his pain and anger as the crowd pops!] TD: Hmm... Maybe this monster has an Achilles heel after all. SR: Nah, that's his knee. [Shakespeare again attacks the rear of the knee, sending Tonnage down to one knee. The Behemoth sees Shakespeare as his vision clears, and lashes out with a meaty paw. Shakespeare is grazed by the huge fist but manages to dive out of the way, rolling on the ground and coming up behind the huge man-mountain. A smile breaks out on his face as leaps onboard the monstrous back and hooks in a sleeperhold. BIG pop!] TD: Billy Shakespeare with a sleeper, Steve Roberts! This could be it! SR: I doubt that very much, Dross. [Tonnage roars in anger! Standing upright the man-mountain tests the knee and, finding it okay, sprints toward the turnbuckle. At the last moment he turns his back, sending himself and Billy Shakespeare crashing into the turnbuckle. Unfortunately it is Shakespeare who hits the metal, and whose cry of pain can be heard up in the rafters of the building] SR: Ouch! That hurt _me_, Dross. You and a metal pole, being forcibly introduced by a guy who weighs almost two and a half times what you do. I almost feel sorry for Pukespeare... almost. [Amazingly, Shakespeare manages to hold on. Big crowd pop! Tonnage sprints for the opposing ringpost, and again Shakespeare hits the metal hard as Tonnage twists at the last second.] SR: Is it me, or does Shakespeare look a little... narrower? TD: Most humourous, Steve. Incredibly, however, Billy Shakespeare is     still hanging on for dear life...     SR: Geez, the guy is like a leech or something. Got any salt, Dross? [Tonnage starts to sprint toward another ringpost, but Billy Shakespeare lets go and hops backward onto the turnbuckle. He quickly leaps up, and comes down on the ringpad facing outward from the ring.] TD: What is Billy Shakespeare doing, Steve? [Tonnage has stopped, and is just about to turn when...] TD: What a move! Moonsault DDT! [Facing toward the crowd, Billy flinches from his backpain, but steadfastly launches himself into a moonsault... a moonsault that sends him flying over Tonnage's head and allows him to grab hold as he goes flying toward the mat. Tonnage's head slams into the mat! BIG crowd pop!] TD: Tonnage is down! SR: So's Pukespeare! [Amazingly Billy Shakespeare has brought the big man down, but at what cost? Shakespeare does not move. The concerned referee starts a count..] TD: What an astonishing move by Billy Shakespeare! First it was the     awesome "Final Act" somersault DDT, now a moonsault DDT from the top     rope. This must surely be the performance of Billy Shakespeare's     life! SR: Yeah, well it certainly looks to be the final one. Tonnage is slowly     getting up, and he looks pissed, Dross. Really, really pissed.     [Tonnage slowly gets to his feet. He looks dazed, but he looks really _really_ angry also. Spotting the unmoving form of Billy Shakespeare mere inches away, he launches himself into a huge slam right across the lower back of Billy Shakespeare! Big heel pop!] SR: Well, that oughta either put him out or wake him up, Dross. Ha! TD: And Tonnage is just draping himself over the lower back of Billy     Shakespeare, Steve. He's not trying to pin him, he's just putting     all that weight on the already injured lower back of Billy     Shakespeare! This is terrible, Steve, absolutely terrible.     SR: Really? I'm quite enjoying it, myself. [After a few moments of lying on top of the still unmoving form of Billy Shakespeare, Tonnage gets off and rolls him over. Hooking the leg he goes for the pin...] TD: Foot on the ropes! Billy Shakespeare is still in the game, Steve! SR: I can't believe this little creep can even move, Dross. Oh, well at     least he's got some brains left. Pukespeare rolls to the outside...     oh, and Tonnage is going after him, Dross.     [Tonnage puts the boot in for a few moments on the outside until warned off by the referee and then picks up Shakespeare and casually pushes him back into the ring. However, as he starts to climb the ring steps...] SR: Hey! That [BEEP] musta been faking or something! Look at him     scootch, Dross, lookit him scootch!     [As Tonnage starts to climb the ring steps, Billy Shakespeare leaps onto the top turnbuckle...] TD: Somersault Senton! [Shakespeare cannonballs into Tonnage, sending the big man flying off the ringsteps and barrelling into the security barriers, explosively scattering them and sending fans scurrying for safety. Shakespeare lands on top of Tonnage in disarray! HUGE crowd pop!] TD: And with both men out of the ring, the referee is starting to count,     Steve.     SR: I know. I'm watching the same monitors you are, dope. [As the referee hits four, Shakespeare starts to move. Slowly he limps towards the ring, clutching his back in agony. Behind him stirs Tonnage, who also starts to slowly make his way toward the ring, both men seemingly ignoring the other. Shakespeare is in first, and as the behemoth slides under the bottom rope, Shakespeare drops a big leg across the neck of Tonnage. ] SR: Ooh, was that a fly? Gosh, that tickled... [Tonnage rises, like some leviathan from the oceans, towering above the seemingly childlike form of Billy Shakespeare. Tonnage lashes out, but misses as Shakespeare desperately lunges out of the way. Shakespeare moves to Irish whip Tonnage into the ropes...] SR: As if, Pukester. [Tonnage instinctively reverses it, sending Shakespeare sprinting toward the ropes. Billy rebounds off, narrowly avoiding a big clothesline attempt by the monstrous Tonnage. Skidding to an abrupt halt immediately behind Tonnage, Shakespeare once again hops onboard Tonnage's wide expanse of back and slaps on a sleeper.] SR: If at first you don't succeed... you still won't when you try this     again. Duh.     TD: Billy seems a lot more aggressive this time though, Steve. He's     really wrenching that neck around as he tries to apply that sleeper.     [Tonnage once more rushes Shakespeare into the corner, slamming Billy hard into a ringpost. The entire crowd hears Shakespeare cry out, but still he holds on. Another turnbuckle. And another. And another.] TD: This is amazing, Steve! Tonnage has gone all the way around the     ring, and still Billy Shakespeare is holding on. It's almost as if     he were glued there. What intes-     SR: [interrupting] "Intestinal fortitude", yeah. That's another one of     those cute little cliches we're gonna have to talk about.     [Tonnage again makes a break for a turnbuckle, but finds himself unable to reach the turnbuckle, as he slowly sinks to one knee in the centre of the ring] TD: And it's having an effect, Steve Roberts! Billy Shakespeare is     slowly putting the giant to sleep!     SR: Hell, if he wanted to do that he only had to recite something to     him, Dross. "To be, or not to be - that is the quest-zzzzzzzzzzzzz"     [Tonnage groggily makes one more effort to rise, but fails and slumps to two knees. Billy Shakespeare still holds on for dear life as the referee takes a hold of the huge arm of Tonnage. ] TD: And the referee is checking Tonnage now, Steve Roberts. it could be     all over for Tonnage!     [The referee lets the arm go. It drops! The crowd cries "ONE!". Billy Shakespeare himself looks like he's fading fast as his grip loosens] TD: Shakespeare's grip is loosening! It's a race against time, Steve     Roberts! Shakespeare is hurt, and Tonnage is fading fast, but can     Shakespeare put Tonnage out before he's unable to maintain the hold?     [Billy Shakespeare's grip loosens yet again just as the referee lets the arm drop for a second time. The crowd cheers "Two!" as a camera zooms in to reveal that Shakespeare's grip is precarious at best...] TD: This is it, Steve Roberts... [The referee lifts the huge limb once more and releases it. It wavers... for a split second it seems to stay vertical, but then ... it drops! The crowd cheers "Three!" just as Billy Shakespeare releases his grip and he falls down to the canvas...] TD: Billy Shakespeare defeats Tonnage! I didn't think it was possible,     Steve Roberts!     [The huge mastadon shakes his head as the referee slaps him gently about the face to revive him. A look of anger crosses his face as he rises, and he makes a move toward the prone form of Billy Shakespeare, but the referee intervenes and orders Tonnage back to the dressing room area] SR: Me neither, damnit. But, fortunately, Pukespeare is in absolutely no     position to take on Paris. Pukespeare is finished, Dross. Kaput.     [Big crowd pop as Ronnie Paris comes sprinting down the aisleway, a determined look across his face as he ignores the huge fan reaction and passes the hulking (and, indeed, grumbling) form of Tonnage in the aisleway. In the centre of the ring a completely exhausted Billy Shakespeare sees nothing as he lies face down in the centre of the ring, his right leg twitching. The referee is down on one knee checking that Billy is okay, but does not stop the match.] TD: Thank heaven! Perhaps now we'll see some fair play, as Ronnie Paris     sprints down the aisle to become the third and final combatant in     the "Shakespeare Trilogy." SR: Or, as I like to call it, "From bard to verse". Get it? "Bad to     worse" and "bard to verse"? It's a pun, Dross, a pun!     TD: As a pun that was not fun! It's a rhyme, Steve, a rhyme. SR: Is that smoke I see coming from that ferret? I warned you about     overheating. [Ronnie Paris hits the ring fast, leaping up from the mat to the apron and then leaping from there to land precariously on the top rope! Huge pop!] TD: Ronnie Paris is entering the ring in style tonight, Stev- NO! [Ronnie Paris launches himself from the top rope, flying through the air as gracefully as a swan to come splashing down on the near unconscious Billy Shakespeare, almost catching the referee also! Huge uncertain pop!] SR: Lookit that, Dross! A huge flying splash from the top rope! Hey, do     you think Shakespeare go bye-bye yet?     TD: I cannot believe what I just saw, Steve Roberts. That behaviour was     most unsportsmanlike, and quite unlike Ronnie Paris!     SR: So what are you saying, Dross? You think maybe Ronnie Paris has an     evil identical twin brother? You ought to know only referees are     allowed those!     [In the ring Ronnie Paris rolls over Shakespeare and hooks the leg. The referee's hand almost hits the mat for a third time, but...] TD: Billy has the shoulder up! He's got the shoulder up, Steve! SR: Geez, Dross, no need to get so excited over it. Just means Wonnie     can beat up the thespian some more.     [Ronnie Paris drags the limp form of Billy Shakespeare to his feet and irishwhips him into the ropes. Shakespeare rebounds off and Paris hits him with a powerful tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! Paris keeps Shakespeare draped over his knee and continues to put pressure on the back as Shakespeare cries out in agony! Heel pop! Ronnie Paris looks around in confusion, hardly believing what he is hearing, but continues to exert pressure upon the battered and broken form of Billy Shakespeare!] TD: I cannot believe what I am hearing, Steve Roberts! Ronnie Paris is     being booed by this capacity crowd! And, I hate to say this, rightly     so in my opinion! Where is the sportsmanship we've always seen in a     Paris match?     SR: Hey, Dross, little Wonnie is just being a professional out there! He     knows Shakespeare has a weak spot, and he's takin' advantage of it.     Absolutely nothing wrong about that, he's broken no rules.     [There is a long moment as what Steve Roberts has said sinks in, and then...] SR: Geez, I can't believe I'm stickin' up for Wonnie Pawis. Must be     something I ate last night.     [Back in the ring the referee is checking Shakespeare to see if he wants to submit, but still the Oregonian will not quit! Huge crowd pop as he defiantly shakes his head. Desperately he reaches out, trying to reach Paris. Finally he is able to lash out, and punches Paris weakly in the head, whacking an ear. It's enough, though, to make Paris drop Shakespeare like a hot can. Big pop!] SR: Yeah, there we go. Pukespeare cheats and he gets the cheers, yet     Paris sticks to the rules and gets booed. Go figure.     [Paris picks up Shakespeare and once again irishwhips him to the ropes. Paris is waiting with an armdrag as Shakespeare rebounds toward him, but Shakespeare ducks underneath, rebounding off the opposing set of ropes and launching himself into the air with a flying shoulderblock! BIG pop! Paris goes down hard, with Shakespeare right behind him] TD: Paris is down! Shakespeare is down! What a last minute desperation     move from Billy Shakespeare, Steve! Billy Shakespeare has evened up     the match, pulling that shoulderblock from the ether!     SR: Come of it, Dross. Evened up the match? Hardly. Shakespeare still     is in need of a new backbone - something I've been saying for years     incidentally - and Paris is a teensy bit stunned. Not quite the same     thing, is it?     [As the referee count reaches seven Shakespeare rolls onto his front and desperately tries to reach Paris. He makes it at the nine count, and drapes an arm limply across the still stunned form of Ronnie Paris. The referee drops down and begins to count.... one... two...] TD: Paris kicks out! Billy Shakespeare almost had him, Steve. SR: Almost only counts in saturation bom... no, wait -- I've done that one. Uh, almost only counts... only counts... with hand grenades! Yeah, that's it, Dross. Almost only counts with hand grenades.     TD: And while Steve Roberts babbles on, Ronnie Paris is brought back to     his feet by Billy Shakespeare, whose back is clearly in agony. I can     see the pain etched on Shakespeare's face, even from here.     SR: Nah, that's last night's curry, Dross. Really painful on the way     out, if you know what I mean...     [Shakespeare brings Paris back to his feet, only to drop him again with a reverse DDT. Paris hits the mat hard, and again the referee makes the count. Once more, however, Paris gets a shoulder up. Shakespeare rolls Paris over, and sets up for...] TD: Wakigatame arm bar! What an incredibly painful move that is, and now     it's not just Shakespeare's face that is contorted in agony, Steve     Roberts!     SR: This is heaven, Dross, sheer heaven! Two of my least favourite guys     in the IIWF, and they're putting the hurting on each other! Oh, if     this is a dream don't wake me, baby!     TD: Paris escapes the hold! I didn't believe that could be done, Steve     Roberts! It must be Billy Shakespeare's weakened condition,     Shakespeare must have been unable to execute the wakigatame     properly!     [Somehow Ronnie Paris has escaped the hold, and Shakespeare cannot believe what he sees. Paris is up, dragging a bewildered Shakespeare to his feet. Big heel pop as Paris pulls a powerbomb out of nowhere! Paris drops to pin Shakespeare, but Shakespeare just will not permit himself to be pinned! Kickout at two and a half! Big pop! Paris looks angry as he sees whose side the crowd is on, and pulls Shakespeare up, Irish whipping him to the ropes, and sending the plucky Oregonian flying with a huge backdrop! Shakespeare seems to sail through the air for an eternity before landing hard on his back! Heel pop! Shakespeare's back arches in exquisite agony before Shakespeare slumps to the mat, apparently out of it] TD: What a backdrop! Shakespeare's back must be aflame with pain, Steve!     Ronnie Paris is really going to work on that back. I haven't seen     anything or anyone this vicious in a long time... apart from     Genesis, of course!     SR: Who? TD: I cannot believe I am seeing this level of viciousness from a man     like Ronnie Paris, Steve Roberts.     SR: We've all got a dark side, Drossmeister, even Wonnie Pawis. Besides,     I think you're forgetting Spur... and what he did to Maggie, Paris'     call girl friend. Payback's a bitch, Dross! [Heel pop as Paris signals for... The Texas Twister! He lifts Billy, or tries to... Shakespeare blocks! Billy reaches up...] TD: Small package! Shakespeare rolls up Paris! The referee is out of     position, but he hits the mat fast! One... Two... So close, Steve     Roberts!     [Ronnie Paris kicks out just after two, and is quick to get to his feet. Big elbow drop on Shakespeare's back, then another... and another! Shakespeare looks helpless as he allows blow after blow to land upon his back! The referee looks concerned, looking almost as if he's going to stop the match, when suddenly Shakespeare rolls out of the way of those big elbows! Crowd pop!] TD: Thank goodness, Steve Roberts! Shakespeare is still in the game! SR: Whoopee. [Shakespeare pulls himself up by the ringropes, just in time to see Ronnie Paris come charging at him with a huge clothesline! Shakespeare ducks, Paris missing with the clothesline but allowing Shakespeare to backdrop him out of the ring! Paris lands awkwardly, and slumps to the mat! BIG pop!] TD: The crowd are solidly behind the young man from Ashland, Oregon, as     he gives possibly the best performance we've seen this year! Billy     Shakespeare is reaffirming to his fans just why he is "Born To     Perform"!     SR: Hey, don't oversell this stuff, Dross. Sure, it's good... but it's     no Asai moonsault!     [Shakespeare hesitantly climbs the ringpost, wincing as he manages to perch atop the turnbuckle, waiting for Ronnie Paris to get to his feet... Paris stirs, climbing slowly to his feet as he looks around suspiciously for the whereabouts of one Billy Shakespeare, but he doesn't see him until it is too late...] TD: Skytwister Press to the outside! What an unbelievable move from     Billy Shakespeare, Steve Roberts! How can he continue to come up     with such acrobatically staggering moves with a back in such bad     condition?!     SR: Courage. Determination. Guts. Or stupidity, Dross. I favour the     latter, personally. Shakespeare's doing more damage to his back than     Jericho, Tonnage and Paris combined!     [Both men are now outside the ring, both men seem completely out of it. The referee reluctantly starts the countout as the crowd pops bigtime for the unbelievable athleticism of Billy Shakespeare! At the three count Paris stirs, shortly followed by Shakespeare. Paris eyes something on the outside, and a grin spreads wide. Pushing himself to his feet he grabs Shakespeare and slowly pulls him toward the ring again. As the referee -- who appears to be a bit slow on the count -- reaches six, Paris pulls Shakespeare onto his back, extending Shakespeare high with his arms and...] TD: [choking] Good God - NO! SR: YES! Crucifix Powerbomb onto the ring steps! I take it back, I love     this guy, Dross! [Unbelievably loud heel pop as Billy Shakespeare hits the ringsteps with a tremendous crash, buckling the steps and causing Shakespeare to cry out in indescribable pain. Paris gets up, and looks about the booing crowd almost angrily. Then a smile slowly crosses his face as he once more lifts up Shakespeare and rolls him into the ring on the eight count, followed shortly by Paris himself. Shakespeare is completely out as Paris towers over him. Big heel pop as Paris reaches down and pins him with one finger! The referee almost reluctantly hits the mat and starts the count... One... Two...] TD: Three! NO! Shakespeare gets the shoulder up! How is he doing this!?! I simply cannot comprehend the battering Shakespeare is receiving,     Steve! SR: Nah, Dross. You just cannot comprehend full stop, amigo. [Paris is astonished! He can't believe what he says as Shakespeare convulses, trying to reach his feet but failing miserably. Shaking his head, Paris grabs hold of Shakespeare, and, to a loud heel pop!] TD: Paris has Shakespeare in a camel clutch! Paris is practically     sitting on Shakespeare's ruined back, Steve Roberts! [In the ring Shakespeare shakes his head as Ronnie Paris exerts the pressure and the referee asks him if he wants to quit. "No!" cries Shakespeare as the crowd chant begins anew: "Bil-ly! Bil-ly! Bil-ly!"] SR: Listen ta those morons, Dross. Shakespeare's finished this time! [Back in the ring Paris really exerts himself, putting more on more pressure on the lower back as he leans back further and pulls harder on the chin of Billy Shakespeare! Again the referee asks Shakespeare, and again Shakespeare violently shakes his head. The crowd chant intensifies: "BIL-LY! BIL-LY!] TD: The name of Shakespeare is practically raising the roof, Steve     Roberts! Just listen to those great fans, fans who are once again     solidly behind Billy Shakespeare!     SR: Yeah, if he weren't in indescribable agony I dare say he's be really     happy about that, Dross. Stupid kid still won't submit though. He's     gonna do himself some lasting damage if he don't quit soon!     [In the ring Paris is practically vertical on Shakespeare's back as he desperately tries to exert more pressure, but still Shakespeare will not submit. Again and again the referee asks Shakespeare, and again and again Shakespeare cries out "No!" as he hears his fans chant his name. But it does not look good for Billy Shakespeare as his cries of "NO!" grow steadily weaker...] TD: Oh my goodness, Steve Roberts! It's been close to six minutes, and     although Billy Shakespeare shows no signs of submitting it looks     like he's fading fast!     SR: Wimp. TD: I cannot believe you said that, Steve! SR: Only six minutes? Wimp. [The crowd raises the roof with their cries of "BIL-LY! BIL-LY! but as the referee checks with Shakespeare he receives no reply. Looking concerned, the referee raises Shakespeare's arm. It drops.] TD: Oh, no. Oh, no, Steve Roberts. This does not look good. SR: It does for Paris. [Again the referee raises Shakespeare's arm. Once more it drops. The crowd go ballistic, crying out "BIL-LY! BIL-LY!" as Paris looks about furiously. He cannot believe that the crowd are so solidly behind the man who did his beloved Maggie such harm, and he again yanks back harder, the form of Billy Shakespeare now almost forming a capital "L" on the mat, his bruised and battered back almost vertical... The referee raises Shakespeare's arm once more...] TD: Not like this! [It drops. The referee signals for the bell, and Sparkplug Lee's voice is heard...] SL: Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner... Ronnie Paris! [As Paris lets Shakespeare drop to the mat and stands for the referee to raise his hand in victory the crowd jeers and booes mightily, Paris seeming almost stung by the crowd's reaction. He prods the unconscious form of Billy Shakespeare once with his boot, as if to check that he is still unconscious, and then leaves the ring to a mighty heel pop as he walks down the aisle, his hand still raised in victory.] TD: I cannot believe what I saw, Steve Roberts. Ronnie Paris beating     Billy Shakespeare in such a ... vicious... manner. The Ronnie Paris     I know didn't wrestle tonight.     SR: Oh? Maybe it was one of the pod people, then. Come off it, Dross.     Wonnie did what he had to do to get the win. He's a pro. Hey, if you     can get a little hurtin' on someone you don't like in there too, why     knock it?     TD: Well, regardless of the fact that Paris won, Steve, I think the true     winner of the match is in that ring still.     SR: I didn't know the referee was one of the combatants, Dross. Hah. [Back in the ring the referee is trying to awaken Billy Shakespeare, who is still out cold.] TD: This does not look good, fans. Billy Shakespeare is still out cold. Obviously the pain became too great, and rather than submit he blacked out, but the referee is having problems bringing him around. We may need an EMT crew down here, Steve! [As he the referee struggles to awaken Billy Shakespeare the crowd begins to buzz with concern. After a long moment the chant once more begins: "SHAKE-SPEARE! SHAKE-SPEARE!". As if reacting to his name, Shakespeare begins to stir, and slowly his eyes open. The referee looks relieved as the crowd pops!] TD: Thank goodness! Fans, it looks like Billy Shakespeare is coming     around, but who can say what damage was done to his back?     SR: His chiropracter. This little night's work is gonna cost Shakespeare     _big_, Dross.     [In the ring Shakespeare slowly and carefully rolls onto his front, and tries to rise. Wincing, he is unable to as his back gives way on him. As the referee looks on disbelievingly, and the crowd pop reaches orchestral levels, Shakespeare slowly crawls to the ring ropes and, using them as support, slowly pulls himself to his feet. Despite wincing in pain, Shakespeare looks ecstatically happy as he revels in the crowd cheers he receives!] SR: Well, looks like Shakespeare got his wish. The fans like him again.     Morons, the lot of 'em.     TD: Fans, Shakespeare is leaving the ring, though he seems more than willing to accept the help of the referee in doing so! As Shakespeare and the referee make their way back to the dressing room area we can still make out the big smile... SR: [interrupting] You mean dopy grin, Dross. TD: We can still make out the big _smile_ on Billy Shakespeare's face.     The man "Born To Perform" is back, Steve Roberts!     SR: God lord, I'm so happy. [Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: What a monumental contest that was, folks -- and an interesting encounter coming up next. SR: What's interesting about it? We've got a nutball against a Genesis loser. Petrow will tear Rogers apart! TD: While that remains to be seen, we would have to say that Petrow is the favourite. That of course ignores the possible presence of the other Genesis members at ringside. SR: Ignore Genesis? What a great idea! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Scott Rogers vs. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: RP [Sparkplug Lee tries in vain to smooth the lapels on his perpetually rumpled tuxedo before reading from his cue cards.] SL: The next match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Hurricane, Utah and weighing in at 297 pounds, Scoooott Rogeeeeeers! [Rogers' unique music comes out of the sound system as the arrogant Genesis members saunters down to the ring with a sneer on his face that belies the anger he feels. He ignores the fans' jeers, though his does acknowledge the cheers of the Genesis Generation fans in the crowd.] TD: Scott Rogers is entering the ring area alone, Steve Roberts. Are we going to see a one on one match or is this just a set-up for something later on? SR: What are you talking about, Dross? When is the first wrestler going to be introduced? TD: What are you...? Ah, the "ignoring Genesis" bit. SR: Ignoring who? SL: And his opponent, currently residing in Tokyo, Japan, and weighing in at 227 pounds, the self-proclaimed "Franchise of the IIWF", "Sychosys" Joe Petrooooooow! ["The Great Southern Trendkill" by Pantera starts up, as Petrow appears at the entrance ramp. Petrow wears long black wrestling tights, with the word "Petrow" written down the sides of both legs, holds a wireless microphone in his hands, and clutches the IIWF United States Tag Team championship belt over his shoulder. "Majestic" Maurice McArthur wears Team Sychosys sweat gear, not in wrestling uniform, but ready for action if need. Neither man leaves the ramp, both merely taking in the scene for a few seconds, before Petrow speaks into the mic] JP: CUT THE MUSIC! [The music stops, as Petrow continues.] JP: Y'know, for months now, I've been watching this "Genesis" thing brewing, and I've seen how riled up everyone is, about how these guys [points to the ring] have "taken over" the IIWF. The question I ask is, when did I ever give the IIWF to them?! [Pop from the Sychopaths, as Petrow continues:] JP: I hear the cynics say, "Oh, they're taking all the belts!", "They're destroying everyone who gets in their path!" But tell me, what are they doing? Are they outwrestling people? Are they outthinking people? No! Just get a gang together, and beat the crap out of everyone who stands in their way! Real original! It's like if our government started printing out trillions of dollars with nothing to back it up. It would make a lot of people rich, but the money wouldn't be worth the paper it's printed on! So Genesis, when it comes down to it, all of your titles, and all of your notoriety, isn't worth the [BLEEP] I send down the toilet! [Pop!] JP: But everyone else in this league takes you guys so seriously. They say ya gotta fight fire with fire! Is that a good idea? Well, tonight, we're gonna find out! I've taken the liberty of finding the biggest, bravest, and toughest athletes in the world, and they're here TONIGHT to watch my back! Genesis, you've met you're match, because I bring you... THE BEATLES! ["Come Together" by the Beatles plays, as a half dozen masked men of all shapes and sizes lead Sychosys to the ring. The black masks with antennae lead us to believe that Petrow really meant to say the BEETLES. Without their masks, one would say that the men were The Rotundos, The Barnacle Brothers, Jumpin' Jack and Scott "The Whine" Bloom, but since they are wearing masks, we can't be too sure.] TD: Now, this is surprising! Rogers doesn't have anyone at ringside but Petrow does! SR: So we've got big Joe and a bunch of Beatles but no one for him to fight! TD: Has anyone told you how annoying you can be? SR: Oh, once or twice. [Petrow climbs into the ring and Rogers charges right at him. Petrow dives quickly to the right and Rogers is unable to get a grip on him. Petrow backpedals away and shakes his shoulders, waiting for Rogers.] TD: Petrow seems to have no desire to go after his opponent, but Rogers doesn't share his reticence. SR: Of course Petrow isn't attacking! There's no one to attack! [One of the Beatles is up of the ring apron, distracting the ref as Rogers moves in for a gut wrench suplex. Petrow merely straightens himself up and flips Rogers over with a backdrop.] TD: Petrow refuses to allow Rogers to get any advantage, but he won't take any for himself either! [The official gets the Beatle to leave the apron but another one jumps up on the other side and the ref must go deal with that one. Petrow steps away from Rogers, allowing him to rise. He then stands passively and waits for the Genesis member to make his move. Scott moves in and scoops Petrow up into position for an airplane spin but Petrow slides right out of his grab, down his back and rolls him up for a pin. The ref is still out of position and Petrow lets Rogers go long before a three count would have been reached.] TD: Rogers is just no match for the skills of Joe Petrow! SR: When does the match start? Is Joe going to fight someone soon? [Rogers, getting madder at every minute leaps at Petrow with a flying shoulderblock but Petrow easily sidesteps him and takes him down with a Fujinama armbar. He immediately releases the submission move as the referee is still arguing with yet another in a series of interfering Beatles. Finally Petrow motions to the oddly-garbed Beatles and they swarm into the ring and surround Scott Rogers.] TD: What is Petrow doing? He's just given away the match! [Dross is right as the ref quickly calls for the bell in order to award the DQ victory to Scott Rogers. Meanwhile the Beatles are maintaining their circle around the Genesis member, not attacking him but taunting him. There is a mixed pop from the crowd as the Highwayman and Serge Annis run down the aisle and into the ring, just as Petrow slides out the other side, joining McArthur.] SR: What's everyone yelling about? Let's get on with the match! TD: Genesis is laying waste to the Beatles! They are beating them within an inch of their lives! [Petrow and McArthur make their way over to the broadcast position while Genesis and the Beatles continue to brawl in the ring. Joe puts on a headset and sits down beside Tim Dross.] TD: Do you mind outlining what you are trying to accomplish here, Mr. Petrow? JP: [ignoring Dross] It's a Jobber Battle Royal, live on Saturday Night! [Steve Roberts tries not to laugh, as that would in some way acknowledge the existence of one of the groups in the ring.] JP: Tell me Steve, is this really the Genesis that everyone is so worried about? SR: Genesis who? [breaks into laughter] [Petrow and McArthur start to leave just as one of the Beatles is thrown from the ring right at their feet.] TD: Joe Petrow seems to be admonishing the Beatle for fighting! Everyone saw him call them into the ring! Now his calling for security! This is too much! SR: Nothing is too much when you're the champ! [Petrow and McArthur walk down the aisle. Petrow has the U.S. Tag belt thrust defiantly in the air.] TD: Joe Petrow has rejoined his sychopaths and security has cleared the ringside but I don't think anything has been settled here tonight! SR: Between whom? TD: You're incorrigible, Steve Roberts. Folks, that brings the first hour of our special golden anniversary Saturday Night to a close -- we'll be right back in a few moments with more incredible action! Don't move a muscle! [Cut to a wide-angle shot as the ringside area is cleared. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+