C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| WITH BRIAN LAU AND LARRY MORTON AUGUST 29, 1997 [Camera shot pans about the studio, showing the production crew busying themselves with the jobs necessary to get a high quality IIWF broadcast on the air. Shot zooms in to the set, where Brian Lau and Larry Morton sit at the official Countdown desk.] LM: Hello, IIWF fans, for another instalment of Countdown to Saturday Night! With me, as usual, is Brian Lau. Brian? Anything you'd like to say to our wonderful fans? BL: Sure... Why don't the fans respect me? Why don't they cheer me? Why don't you love me? I want my own T-shirt! LM: Why do I get the feeling you're not serious? BL: [Completely straight faced] Could it be the fact that I'm unsuccessfully trying to hold in my laughter? LM: Could be... You're doing a good job, though. BL: Unlike you... LM: It's that dry wit that makes our show so entertaining for the fans week after week, Brian. BL: No, that would be the betting pool for the amount of times you mess up, Morton. LM: I strive to please. Folks, we've got a great show for you tonight. We'll be looking at all the matches that will take place tomorrow night on IIWF Saturday Night, as well as taking a look at what matches have already taken place on the War Room. Put all that together with the fascinating insight of your humble countdown crew, and you've got one of the greatest pre-shows in the sport. BL: Can we call it that now? A sport? LM: Of course we can, Brian. Don't believe for a moment that any of the action in the IIWF is staged. BL: Staged, planned out beforehand, predetermined? LM: None of the above. We're about quality sports entertainment. Speaking of quality sports entertainment, let's start off our show with the results from this past Wednesday's War Room... ======================================================================== ---------------------WEDNESDAY-WAR-ROOM-RECAP--------------------------- ======================================================================== Results for Wednesday War Room - August 27, 1997. 1. Marty Warnett def. El Super Gecko [J] (via Submission) 2. Steve "the Fury" Kowalski def. Bobby B. Goode [J] (via Pinfall) 3. Highwayman def. Jumpin' Jack [J] (via Pinfall) 4. HANDICAP MATCH: Tonnage def. "Nifty" Ned Norton & Scott "the Whine" Bloom [J] (via Double Pinfall) 5. Deathbringer def. Rasputin [J] (via DQ) 6. Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiansen def. Sebastian Jericho (via Pinfall) 7. Timothy N. Turner def. "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard (via Pinfall 8. Harlequins def. The Equalizers (via Pinfall) ======================================================================== LM: Impressive displays from all of our competitors, as is expected in the IIWF. We saw Marty Warnett send a message out to Chris Quigley when he turned down a chance to use the Quickstriker and used the End figure four leglock. BL: Smart move. The figure four leglock is a much more effective hold than the Scorpion Deathlock. LM: But we're talking about the Quickstriker here. BL: I know... The Scorpion Deathlock. LM: We saw Steve Kowalski make short work of his opponent. It was almost as if this match was over before it even started. BL: The top stars in the IIWF have trouble with Kowalski... What do you expect from some ham'n'egger? LM: MMmmm, ham... Eggs... Oh, sorry... We saw Tonnage defeat not one, but two men. BL: I've seen Becky LaRue do that and not even break a sweat. LM: You're just lucky she's not sitting next to you when you say things like that. BL: Stilettos of doom, huh? LM: Better believe it. We saw Serge Annis attack Deathbringer and paint a happy face on the Reaper's mask. BL: As much as I dislike Genesis, I have to admit that was damn funny. Hey... Here's an idea... What if Deathbringer was actually the masked man that attacked Ike Sampson before that Creed title defense? Speaking of which... [Creed's face pops up on the screen... The same picture used a few weeks ago.] LM: I thought we got rid of that. BL: You can't get rid of a class act, Morton. LM: I see... We saw Kevin Christiansen defeat Sebastian Jericho. A result that was more than a little influenced by Requiem of Genesis. BL: Come on, guys, get on with it. Is Jericho Genesis or isn't he? I'm sure that little altercation won't help in the recruiting process... LM: Timothy N. Turner defeated Ryan... BL: Opie! LM: No, Ryan Howard. BL: Oh, yes... And Christiansen snuck up behind Turner and hit him from behind. I thought he was supposed to be the white knight or something... LM: I'm thinking that perhaps Christiansen is just trying to keep up with the rest of the stars here. BL: Operative word: trying. LM: More importantly, though, is the fact that Ryan Howard suffered what appears to be a serious knee injury at the hands of Duncan Macbeth and Timothy Turner. We'll have more details later on. BL: Look at me, I'm sobbing over here... LM: In the main event, we saw the Harlequins defeat the Equalizers. BL: Great tag team, the Harlequins. I think I'm starting to "get it." LM: What? Is it catching? BL: No, you dink... I'm starting to understand them a bit more now. They truly are good at what they do. LM: We also had Dan Kauffman watching on through the whole card... [Morton pauses.] LM: Brian, aren't you going to say something about Kauffman? BL: No. LM: Nothing snide? Nothing mean? BL: No... Nothing. LM: Will wonders never cease? Well, folks, the next stop on the IIWF rollercoaster is IIWF Saturday Night, which will take place tomorrow night. BL: Which, coincidentally, is Saturday. LM: Funny how that works... Let's take a look at that card match by match! ======================================================================== --------------------IIWF-SATURDAY-NIGHT-PREVIEW------------------------- ======================================================================== ------------------------------------ 1. The Machines vs. Hollywood Bloods ------------------------------------ LM: Starting off this exciting card is some hot tag action with two of the IIWF's up and coming tag teams. BL: Oh, yeah... These guys are just great. LM: You think so? BL: No. LM: I didn't think so. You really give these newcomers a hard time, Brian. BL: I'll pay for it in hell... Get on with it. LM: Folks, we got these comments from the Machines... [Paul Wong and Simon O'Neal are driving in Paul's BMW, with the IIWF cameraman taping from the back seat. Every few seconds, each man switches the radio station, leading an odd mixture of the Beatles and Nirvana. Finally, Paul shuts off the radio, to the disgust of his partner. Paul, still driving, speaks to the cameraman.} PW: Thanks for coming along. We should have scheduled this better, but with Simon's Gremlin in the shop, I have to play chauffeur for him, and this was the best we could do. We're looking forward to our first IIWF Pay Per View. SO: Yeah, right. In case you haven't noticed, Paul, two of our partners hate each other. Ronnie Paris and Billy Shakespeare have been trying to kill each other for the past few weeks. How can we team up with people who are constantly at each other's throats? [The camera looks at both men, trying to figure out if he's serious.] PW: Dexter St. Croix looks like a good wrestler, and maybe Paris and Shakespeare can bury the hatchet long enough to get the win. SO: I doubt it. Fortunately, the opponents look worse. You've got two nut cases in the Cavalier and the Phoenix. One's suffering from the delusion that he's a Knight, the other has multiple personalities... PW: Here we go again. Simon insults our opponents, who take it personally and go after us with both guns blazing, trying to injure him. Then guess who gets to play the human shield. Why can't we just wrestle without any of this garbage? SO: Because it's more fun this way. Jericho's all right, but Shakespeare beat him before. Finally, there's our opponents this weekend, the Hollywood Bloods. A couple of pretty boys who think they're tough. I hate pretty boys. My second wife Rachel left me for a pretty boy... PW: Hold on there... Rachel left you because she found you and her best friend together. SO: [Sighing] Paul... first rule; never interrupt an Irishman telling a story with insignificant things like facts. Now I'll have to start over. And you missed the turn. [The two wrestlers now start "discussing" the directions to the mechanics, and the camera fades.] BL: "No, you're the gay guy... No, _you're_ the gay guy! I am not, you are! Oh, stop, silly!" LM: Will you stop it? Nobody is "the gay guy!" BL: And why not? Have something against gays, Larry? LM: Well, no, I don't... It's just that... BL: Oh, so you _like_ gays, huh? LM: Well, uhhh... BL: You really really _like_ them, don't you? LM: Stop it... I'm not going to answer that... BL: You're being such a bitch, Larry. LM: I'm warning you... ----------------------------------------- 2. Prophets of Rage & Ike Sampson vs. Licensed for Devastation & Luke Steele ----------------------------------------- LM: This matchup sees a showing of the Age of Rage taking on Licensed for Devastation and Luke Steele... BL: I don't think there's any doubt who's going to win this one. LM: Who? BL: The Age of Rage, moron. LM: I doubt that. BL: Funny, Larry... Very funny. Now shut up, will you? Jeez... LM: [a look of pride on his face] While Brian recovers from my verbal razing, let's hear from part of that Age of Rage team... Here's Ike Sampson... [SCENE: The nearly-darkened IIWF Coliseum. The support crew is racing to finish preparing the ring for tomorrow night's big event. All of the seats in the arena sit folded neatly, save one: Ike Sampson sits alone in the front row of the ringside seats, absently watching the goings-ons of the tech crew. He is dressed in his street clothes, with an old-style "T-C" Minnesota Twins hat, and a black t-shirt that reads THE TRUTH.] IKE: Hadn't had much to say lately... been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of stuff flyin' my way... a lotta offers. A lotta offers for help... help that I don't need. Starks... I appreciate the offer. I'll admit, it's gotta lot of appeal to it. Been on my own a lot here lately... it'd be good to have somebody watching my back again. Somebody that's on my side. But not the way you want it. I didn't need your help to beat Thunder. I sure didn't need it to beat Steele. Cheap wins ain't gonna get me my shot at the 'Dog. Chill with all that interferin' stuff, and I might be interested. I could use some family. I really could. But until then... I'm gonna have to say NO. Tomorrow night -- and again at Madness -- I'm teaming up with your family, Starks. Keep your nose out of it... and you might have a deal. We can do this the right way... And that's the truth... [Fade.] LM: Well, I guess that Ike's not necessarily part of the Age of Rage. BL: Verbal razing my ass... You got lucky, punk... LM: Brian, please, let's get back on subject... BL: Alright, whatever. Folks, here you have a classic case of Larry jumping the gun. Saying Ike is part of the Age of Rage when it's really not confirmed... LM: But you agreed with me! BL: Only because you misled me. LM: Oh, brother... Folks, let's get comments from two men from the opposite team, Licensed for Devastation... [The camera opens to Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos, standing on the side of a highway. There is a billboard behind them advertising the IIWF. As cars fly by, Starr and Chaos stand, idly, in their jeans and black t-shirts.] JC: Yo yo yo, sucka, the LFD are up in this joint! RS: It's a highway Jon, nothin' to be "up in" about. JC: Yo man... ain't you happy that we finally beat a big name team? RS: Oh yeah... so, where've we been for the last two weeks? _CELEBRATING_, boys. We finally did something in the IIWF worth talking about. [Reggie nods to Jonathan.] JC: That's right, Reg, we found the inspirations deep in your tights... aptly named... Shock the Taser. RS: Yep, Shock did his job well... and we move on, to Saturday Night, with a six-man match... we gotta team with a guy named Luke Steele, Jon. Against the Prophets of Rage, again, and their partner, Mike Sampson. JC: Nah, it's Ike, not Mike. RS: Good candy. JC: Word. The fact is, Ike and the Prophets are gonna feel the Breach of Contract, and we ain't gonna give it to ya easy... RS: Luke... friend... comrade... you be my buddy, and I'll be yours. But if you get in our way... JC: There's a Breach in your future too, see. RS: The Prophets are trying their damnedest to get back at us, I'm guessing, so they went out and got themselves a partner...and at Midsummer Madness, they have a whole god damn team. Some guy named Tony Starks and another guy named Duncan Macbeth. JC: Ain't Starks on the Knicks? RS: That's John Starks. JC: Ain't Duncan some screwy Brit who thinks that "tawkin' like dees" makes him cool? RS: He's from Scotland. JC: So... we've got the Candyman, the Brit, the Bad Basketball Player, and the Prophets of Rage, no bad insult name needed. RS: Yeah, whatever dude. The point is, Luke, Ryan, and Tim Turner better be on their game, 'cause we're ready for this Midsummer Madness Match, and we won't hesitate to punk you out like you were on the other team. JC: First comes Saturday Night, first comes Ike and the Prophets... suckas... it's on. RS: Fans, we aim to please. JC: Victory for LFD... can ya dig it?! [Fade to black.] BL: Wonder who's the gay guy on that team. LM: Brian... BL: No, I don't think it's you, Larry... I think it's the guy with the taser in his shorts... LM: Come on, now... Folks, here are some comments from the other third of that team, "Real Deal" Luke Steele. This is an in ring interview taken from one of the IIWF's house shows. Be sure to keep an eye out for when the IIWF is coming to your town... BL: Couldn't pass that up, could you? LM: Well, no. Here's Luke Steele, folks... [Cut to footage of Steve Summer standing in the ring at an IIWF event.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time, he is the "Real Deal", give it up for Luke Steele! [As the name is announced, "Black Cat" by Janet Jackson begins to come through the PA system. The lights start to flash, almost in strobe-like effect. As the crowd releases a thunderous cheer, Luke Steele steps out of the wrestler's entrance and into the aisle. The crowd is stunned to see the appearance of Steele. Normally a snappier dresser, Luke is simply dressed in a pair of ragged jeans, and a white t-shirt underneath a black jean vest. His hair is matted and greasy, and a few days worth of stubble is very much apparent. Steele looks around and tags the hands of the fans right at the aisle, and walks to the squared circle. He enters the ring and fireworks go off above his head, as he stands on the middle turnbuckle and raises his hands above his head. Steele steps down as the noise dies off, and stands next to Summer.] SS: Luke, we all saw your, how shall I say, odd, interview on Monday Musings this past week. May I ask what that was all about? LS: Well you know, young Summer, sometimes a man has to ask himself a tough question. A question he might not want to answer. But nevertheless one he _has_ to, or he'll face being stuck in a rut for the rest of his life. SS: You know Luke, that didn't really answer... LS: I was getting to it, Steve. I asked myself what was wrong with the way I was doing things here, and why I wasn't catching any breaks. Well you know what Steve? I told myself that I wasn't doing anything wrong, short of being probably the most naive guy in the league. Week after week I'm getting beaten down in a five on one situation, from that ever lovable group of guys known as Genesis [The Genesis fan section pops, the rest of the arena boos]. And last week, I saw my _pal_, Ronnie Paris, come out and defeat Billy Shakespeare in a classic match. And what did it for him was what has been labelled a mean streak. That same mean streak that helped Derek Mota into the league, and into a championship title reign now. SS: Well, what about Ronnie? You seemed a little hesitant to call him a pal of yours. Are you two on the outs again? LS: Steve, sometimes you're too inquisitive for your own good. No, Ronnie and I are not on the "outs." However, since he's come back he hasn't bothered to call me, so I don't have a clue what's going on with him. But that's not at all why I'm out here. I'm here to talk about one man. One man named Dan. [The crowd starts to stir, as they think they know who he's talking about.] Dan Kauffman. [Now a full-blown explosion of a pop. Luke looks around and smiles at the crowd, but more of a crooked smile.] Yes, the fans' hero. Welcome back Dan, the IIWF wasn't the same without ya. But Dan, there is _one_ thing that bothers me. You come riding in on your high horse and immediately decide to take a stand against Genesis. Then you get your buddies: Deathbringer and the Syndicate to help you. Then suddenly you all are signed in a series of matches with Genesis. Well Dan, one question. Where the hell does that leave me? _I_ am the one goddamned person who has suffered more than anyone else at their hands! Time after time I've gotten attacked, been beaten down in the locker room, faced them and been screwed out of wins, and what the hell does it get me? One friggin' win in the lousy Coronation Clash tournament, and it's out the door, see ya Luke. SS: But Luke... LS: Thank you Steve, that's enough. This is my interview time, so feel free to watch from the corner if you want. [Steele takes the microphone from Summer's hands, and continues on.] I have _never_ gotten a fair shake against Genesis. Scott Rogers, that son-of-a-bitch sells me out. Then I thought we were finally getting somewhere, me and Ronnie and the Pheonix. But Ronnie disappears, Pheonix disappears, and Danny the Angel waltzes in and takes away the one thing that I was focused on, revenge on Requiem and his boys. Kauffman, face it, pal -- you sat back in retirement and watched Genesis walk all over the IIWF. Yes, I'll admit it, that's exactly what they did. They damn well walked all over us. You watched, and figured that since us rookies and newcomers couldn't cut it immediately, you had to come back and show us. Well, thanks Dan, thanks for _nothing_! I guess it just doesn't pay to be the new guy. Look at the damn team Kauffman's got: each of them is either a former world champion, or a multiple Intercontinental champion. Dammit, how about giving us young guys a damn break. Look at where all of you are, and where the hell I'm stuck: a damn random match with Licensed for Devastation, Ryan Howard, and Timothy N. Turner. What the hell is this? TNT? For heaven's sakes, I've got more seniority over him and _he's_ captain? This is complete [bleep]. Luke Steele, the stepping stone of the IIWF's roster? Not anymore. Not any damn more. I've come out time and time again and said "Hey, it's gonna be different from now on. I've changed..." Yadda yadda yadda. Basically, this is it. I am fed up with all of this crap. I don't give a damn at all anymore, about Genesis, about Paris, about Pheonix. And especially you, Dan Kauffman. You can _all_ go to _hell_! [The crowd is shocked to hear this, and the beginnings of a heel pop rises.] LS: The one thing that seems to have remained are all of you, the fans. Even though some of wrestlers of the IIWF have treated me like crap, at least the fans have stuck by me. And for that, I'm grateful. It's the one thing that's kept me from snapping. From now on, it's all about the fans, and showing everybody else up. Kauffman, Genesis, Paris, all of you. Luke Steele is not going to rest until he gets the World Title around his waist. Then, and only then, can the Real Deal truly stick it to the rest. And Kauffman, one final thing I have to say to you: Despite you going up against Genesis, you did the one thing nobody expected. You proved their point, down to every last detail. And you proved it to their worst detractor. Me. And this Saturday me and LFD take on the Age of Rage. You punks aren't the only ones with rage. I'll start to show you all that Luke Steele is _nobody's_ whipping post! Later, [Luke looks around, and emphasizes his last words] _baby dolls_. ["Black Cat" starts up again, and Luke exits the ring to more of a mixed pop than when he entered. He tags the hands of any of the fans that choose to reach out to him, and there are a noticeable few less. Still overall he gets a decent sized pop as he walks back. Fade out.] LM: Oh, my... BL: Whine, whine, whine... You know something? The reason why "Like a Pig I Squeal" Luke Steele isn't heading up the movement to rid the IIWF of Genesis is because he doesn't have the tools. We don't need someone to get beaten up all the time. We need someone who can get results. LM: I think Luke is a little more upset about Kauffman taking all the thunder in the IIWF for himself. I'd think you would agree with him. BL: I do. But you know what the difference is? I knew that would happen the moment Kauffman set foot back in the IIWF. I've dealt with it now. I also refuse to whine, which is a skill that seems to be practiced quite widely in the IIWF these days. LM: Well, I guess we'll just have to see how this all comes in to play tomorrow night. BL: Trying to shut me up, Larry? LM: Kind of... ----------------------------------------------------------------------- 3. Tony Starks & MYSTERY PARTNER vs. Timothy N. Turner & Duncan Macbeth ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: As we stated before, Ryan Howard sustained a serious knee injury that will more than likely require surgery. This will take him out of action for some time, including this match. BL: Pansy... LM: Come on, Brian... A thing like a knee injury is a tricky thing. BL: No, really? I guess you'd know better than I, what with my three operations on my knee and you with your... How many? LM: Ummm, none. BL: None, that's right. You were saying? LM: Well, IIWF officials are now looking through the standings to find a suitable partner for Tony Starks in this match. Almost makes the match even more exciting, now with the mystery partner... BL: Oh, yeah... Sure... LM: Let's get comments from the man who is going into this match with a lot to worry about, Tony Starks... [Scene: Outside building 160 of the Park Hill Projects in Staten Island. It is near dusk, so everyone is outside chillin. Starks stands alone from the crowd, leaning against a stoop. The camera focuses in on him and he begins to speak:] TS: And then there were five... Ike, you made the right choice. You need a family? You in one now, see we are your brothers and sisters, we ain't gonna let you down. You was a lot like me, you was searchin' and searchin' for a long time. Now, you found what you was lookin' for. See, me, Unique, D, and Shadoe we is like the four horsemen of the apocalypse: Death, War, Famine and Pestilence all rolled into one. But, Ike, you is like that fifth angel, that ran into the sun, read from the book and said: "Your ass is mine." You understand? We are gonna run like Hell's Army after God left the world. You got that? All ya'll better listen up. Now, at the Madness, you got the crew and Duncan against, some wild ass crew, bunch of new jack young bucks. You chumps gonna find out what Hell is for real. [Starks sneers] But this weekend, you got me and the Intrepid against ol' Duncan and some cat calls himself TNT. Intrepid, this one time I am going to help you out but at the PPV, you gonna sink like the damn Titanic. Duncan, no hard feelings, kid, we gonna work together at the PPV, but this week, we is enemies. And let me tell this TNT cat somethin', you may think you is gonna be the next big thing, but listen up, baby, I am gonna cream you ass back to Victoria, and you gonna blow up like wet dynamite. When I get done wit' you two, you both gonna be lickin' each others wounds in Heaven, 'cuz ain't no place for no blades in this Hell. Ayo, you believe in God? You do? Ask him to save you cuz' I am gonna slay you. [The shot focuses in on Starks who just stares into the camera. Fade] LM: Oh, dear... It looks as if Starks doesn't even know about his partner's injury. BL: Awww, too bad... I guess this just gives Macbeth and Turner a chance to even up their teams, huh? LM: What do you mean? BL: Opie was on Turner's team... Now he's out. Now that team is one short. Starks is on Macbeth's team. Turner and Macbeth are friends. If I were in that situation, I'd have started weeks ago eliminating every team member from the PPV. Not that it would really gain a tactical advantage... It would just be funny as hell. LM: You find humor in the oddest things... Folks, let's get comments from the opposing team. First, here is Duncan Macbeth... [SCENE: An interior shot in the old stone house on the Macbeth lands, outside the small town of Glenfinnan, Scotland. It is evening, and the venerable old dwelling is softly lit with the flickering glow of oil lamps. The camera follows Duncan Macbeth as he walks along a wall in his study decorated with title belts, plaques, and other trophies from his wrestling career.] DM: Every once in awhile I like t' come back 'ere, t' remind meself o' where I came from, an' t' keep meself focused on where I'm goin'. I've managed t' get meself a prize from every federation I've ever been in, an' someday, some IIWF gold'll hang on this wall too, ye can be sure o' tha'. But tha's no' what I'm here t' talk about today. Ryan Howard. Some snot-nosed wee punk in a tough-lookin' leather duster, tryin' t' do 'is best Clint Eastwood impression an' failin' miserably. A no-talent nobody who never did NOTHIN', tryin' t' waltz in t' th' greatest promotion in th' world an' make a name fer himself. Well, tha' routine's been done t' DEATH by thousands o' second-rate wrestlers whose names have been long forgotten by now, an' normally I'd be inclined t' ignore yuir pathetic type, an' go about me business o' huntin' down th' Intercontinental title. But ye made a HUGE mistake, Opie. Ye made yuir business MY business. Ye wanted ME as yuir first real test in th' IIWF, an' I slapped seven colours o' snot out o' ye. So ye said, "Let's have a go at Macbeth AGAIN, THIS time it'll be different!". An' THIS time, Macbeth damn near puts ye in th' hospital! A smart man would hae cut 'is losses an' moved on, but no one ever accused ye o' bein' smart now, did they? So ye brassed off me mate Tim Turner, who's no' as kind-hearted an' easygoin' as I am. He kicks yuir sorry arse from pillar t' post, an' puts ye righ' back on th' gurney! An' this time, ye think ye're goin' t' make things different by teamin' wi' Starks, an' takin' on Tim an' me both? Ye're no' a tag-team wrestler, tosser. Starks is no' a tag-team wrestler either, an' furthermore, Tony Starks could no' give a rat's ARSE about yuir sorry hide! THIS is how ye're goin' t' get yuir revenge? I just want t' show ye... [Macbeth turns to his trophy wall and takes down one of the larger gold belts hanging there, and turns back to the camera.] ...just how deep a hole ye've dug fer yuirself THIS time, rookie. [Macbeth holds the gleaming, ornate title belt up to chest level for the camera's inspection. The inscription on the frontispiece reads: IWA/CRL World Six-Man Championship Beneath this inscription, a small plaque is fixed to the belt inscribed with the names of the then-title holders: Andrew Macbeth Duncan Macbeth Timothy N. Turner A confident smirk crosses the face of Duncan Macbeth as his green eyes blaze unblinkingly into the camera.] DM: See ye Saturday, Opie. An' so will th' EMT crew, again... [Fade.] LM: It would seem that Duncan Macbeth is not aware of Op... I mean Ryan Howard's injury. BL: I can't say for sure that he would really care anyway. LM: Let's also get comments from Timothy N. Turner... [Timothy N. Turner is pulling up in front of the Ace of Clubs in his Porsche. He hops out, sees the camera and stops. He motions to the cameraman and then reaches back into the car to pull something out of the glovebox. He sports a wicked grin as he pulls a short metal bar into sight] TNT: Do you recognize this? This is what I used to put Ryan Howard out of wrestling. It seems now that Kevin Christiansen wants a piece of me. I can't believe you are that stupid. Did you see what happened to Howard? Bring it on little man and face the best thing going in the IIWF! As a matter of fact, why don't you join our match on Saturday? Howard is crippled so Starks is going to need a partner! Duncan and I can take on any two wrestlers in the sport. Requiem and Highwayman? Kauffman and James? Gecko and Norton? Anyone! [Fade.] BL: Oh, god... Now they're pairing Kauffman and Casey together... Can things get any worse? LM: Well, at least it seems as though someone is aware of Ryan Howard's situation. BL: Big deal... LM: Well, Brian, I'd think you would have realized the significance of this whole situation. If Macbeth thinks that Howard is still in the match, I'm sure a lot of his strategy revolves around that. The same goes for Starks. The absence of one participant changes the entire match. BL: Sure, Larry, like I didn't know that. Of course I knew that. I just don't care. See this? Face of a man who cares not. LM: What a cheery fellow. ------------------------------------------------- 4. "Showstopper" Simon Lebec vs. Dexter St. Croix ------------------------------------------------- LM: Well, Simon Lebec, the number one contender to the Cruiserweight Championship, hasn't had anything to say this week... BL: Hold on. If he doesn't care enough about this match to talk about it, then I don't see why I should. LM: As Steve Roberts implied on Tuesday, many a match has been decided based on what is said in front of the camera. Call it playing the mindgames, psyching your opponent out, or whatever. We on "Countdown to Saturday Night" like to at least be able to show _something_ regarding this match. BL: I've seen it time and time again. Guys that look great on paper, but put them behind a mic and they're lacking, or they feel they don't need to get on the mic at all. Guess what, guys? All those times, I've seen those people outta here. LM: I think we've said enough. I never thought I'd see the day that the IIWF was appealing to the "Showstopper" to talk _more_. Be that as it may, let's get some comments from young Dexter St. Croix: [The scene is a small gym, empty except for a lone man on the bench press and his shapely female spotter. Steel Pulse's "Bodyguard" can be heard from a distant radio. The camera pans in to reveal the man as Dexter St. Croix. He is dressed in black sweat pants and a loose-fitting white tank-top. His spotter is dressed in a black stretch leotard, revealing her voluptuous figure. She stands behind him as he does his reps...] GIRL: 7...8...9...10... gimme one more, Dex! Come on, baby, gimme one more! [Dex strains to push the bar up again, but does so and returns it to the rack. He sits up and the girl wraps a towel around his neck. He grabs his water bottle and raises his head to address the camera...] DSC: Personally, I t'ink dis pumpin' iron is a waste o' time, but de girls seem t' dig it, mon. [The spotter smiles seductively and starts rubbing Dex's shoulders.] DSC: So I see de ol' Dirty Dog lost his shiny golden belt. I gotta say I'm a wee bit disappointed dat I didn't beat 'is ass for da title, mon, but I gotta say I'm a little 'appy 'im not holdin' de gold anymore. 'im a disgrace to 'im race and an' ol' Dex is tired of 'im comin' out 'ere every week and embarrassin' 'imself. [Dex takes a sip from the bottle] DSC: So, ol' Dex 'as gotta set 'im sights on de maniac known as Derek Mota, mon. An' de IIWF says I gotta go t'rough a "Showstopper" to get dere. Mister Lebec, I know you're one o' de greatest wrestlers to ever step foot in an IIWF ring, mon. An' one t'ing I've learned in my short time in dis sport is respect. Respect for de sport, respect for de fans, and respect for de men 'oo came before me, mon. But respect is respect, it's not fear, mon, and Dexter St. Croix has big plans for 'imself and de IIWF. You, mister Lebec, are not gonna stand in me way. [Dex takes another swig from the bottle as the spotter continues rubbing his shoulders.] DSC: So ya better bring all ya got down to de ring dis Saturday night, mon, 'cause ya best believe, you're gonna need it all when ya face ol' Dex, mon. Peace out. [Dex tosses the empty bottle to the side, lays back down on the bench, lifts the bar from it's cradle, and begins his reps once again. Cut back to the studio.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ 5. Billy Shakespeare & Kevin Christiansen vs. Ronnie Paris & The Phoenix ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: What a match this could turn out to be! If you're unaware of the friction between Shakespeare and Ronnie Paris, you must be... BL: Really, really stupid. LM: Or missing the shows for the past half a year... BL: No... Just really stupid. LM: Either way, we could see some real fireworks right here! Not only do we have that rivalry, but we also have the technical skills of two of the most promising sophomore wrestlers in the IIWF, Kevin Christiansen and The Phoenix. BL: The cheesedog and the Injuninja. LM: Injuninja... That's Japanese for... BL: My wit is just wasted on you, isn't it? LM: I guess so... Anyway, folks, let's first get some comments from the, ummm, Injuninja himself, The Phoenix [SCENE: The darkened IIWF Coliseum. A single spotlight, cast from the upper balcony, falls in the middle of the ring. The Phoenix's voice comes from the darkness:] TP: Is _this_ what you're both seeking? [The Phoenix steps backward into the spotlight as the camera captures the image of the phoenix on his back. The bright light combined with muscle movements seems to bring the bird to life. The wrestler extends his arm and continues to speak with his back to the camera] Is _this_ what holds Ronnie Paris and Billy Shakespeare prisoner? The desire to be in the spotlight... to hear the cheers of the fans and to know that they are watching your every move? [The Phoenix drops his arms to his side and slowly turns, squinting as the bright light illuminates his face and body.] I, too, felt the wrath of Spur... the wrath of Billy Shakespeare. Whether it was the act of an illness, an injury, or a demon, it was very much Billy Shakespeare who struck the blow. I have not forgotten, but neither have I retaliated because I found sincerity in Billy Shakespeare's explanation and his regret. The spotlight reveals... but it can also disguise. [The angled spotlight dims until the shot is in total darkness. It is replaced by another spotlight with direct lighting from overhead, casting The Phoenix in a bright outline, although the details of his face and body are muted by shadows.] Ronnie Paris, the darkness of Genesis is now behind me. We have stood together in the ring and fought opponents, but never in a situation like we will face tomorrow night. I respect Shakespeare and Kevin Christiansen for what they have accomplished in the ring and tomorrow's match has the potential to entertain the fans like none other. It has the potential to be what Dan Kauffman spoke of last Saturday -- a _wrestling_ match. But personalities seem to have gotten in the way. Perhaps Kevin Christiansen and I are merely bystanders in this match. I thought I knew what motivates Ronnie Paris and Billy Shakespeare... competition. But the past and present pollute your minds and overshadow your competitive spirits? Is it now a popularity contest? [The spotlight again dims until the shot is in total darkness. Finally, a spotlight behind The Phoenix glares, casting him in an eerie silhouette. A halo seems to surround him and his face cannot be seen in the darkness.] You are headed toward a different darkness, Ronnie, but I will stand with you tomorrow night. After that, you must finish the journey of enlightenment yourself. But heed my words well, my friend. Do not fall prisoner to the spotlight, because the light has many different faces. The cheers do not direct the light... the light directs the cheers. And even when you stand in the spotlight... [The spotlight slowly dims until The Phoenix is barely outlined by the light.] ...people may not be able to recognize you. And then, it may be too late. [Fade to total darkness.] LM: Deep thoughts from The Phoenix. BL: A birdbath is deep to you, Larry. LM: Well, it is... Think about it. The birds, they fly all day to stay off of the Earth, yet it is the dust in the air that dirties them, so they come down to the very Earth they avoid... To the birdbath. BL: Oh, just shut up, will you? LM: Just as soon as we hear these comments from Billy Shakespeare! [The shot opens to Billy Shakespeare reclining in the front row of the old theatre. He looks at press clippings from small time Texas wrestling federations, the name Ronnie Paris headlines them all.] BS: It amazes me how easily many are confused between mediocrity and true greatness. Ronnie Paris... do you feel like you're being haunted? For I am indeed the ghost of Hamlet's father: Appearing nightly portenting your final demise. Yes, I'm haunting you... stalking you 'til this little game of yours ends... wrestling you over and over until it becomes apparent even to you that the cheers don't come just because you think you deserve them. This Saturday we meet again, thought the suits have decreed that we have partners. And after that: Midsummer Madness. As a twisted joke I have been burdened by you on my team. You think you've worked hard in the past? I'm going to teach you what being a star is all about. You want cheers? You're about to earn them the hard way. I don't give the fans half a show, and I won't let you do it either. Time to break you of some bad habits. [The camera turns to a different direction] A word in parting. Requiem, you of all people should know the foolishness of invoking the names of demons you can't control. The next time you say "Billy Shakespeare", you better be ready to fight him. Yea, I will address your "new Generation" anon, but right now I have to give one of your "New" brethren a spanking he long deserves. [Suddenly the stage explodes in stage theatrics. Chem-fog floods the stage obscuring Shakespeare. Fade to the studio] BL: Billy Shakespeare... Billy Shakespeare... LM: Not you... He was saying that to Requiem. BL: Oh... LM: I see you'd like a spanking from Billy Shakespeare... BL: Very good, Larry... It would seem that being around me is starting to influence you... You're getting quicker... Now quit it before I smack you. LM: [gulps] Ummm, okay... BL: I want to say this, though... All the past comments about Shakespeare aside... All the feuding aside... The guy has just mastered the art of getting labelled. I mean, first, there was that whole thing with the broken ribs... Then the Thunder fiasco which gave birth to Spur... Now this... Another string of beatings in the career of Billy Shakespeare... LM: He hasn't lost that much... BL: I didn't say losses, Morton, I said beatings. He's been taking some serious pummelings lately... I wonder which personality will come out this time. Spur Act II? LM: Interesting insight... BL: Of course... This is me we're talking about here. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 6. Steve Kowalski & Marty Warnett vs. Brody Thunder & Chris Quigley ------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Can you say explosib... I mean, explosive? [Lau just starts laughing and shakes his head.] LM: Stop that... It was an honest mistake. Look at this match! On one side, you've got Kowalski and Warnett... Two guys that fought each other tooth and nail over the Intercontinental title. On the other, you've got Quigley and Thunder... Quigley has said time and time again that he blames Thunder for not being the IIWF champion right now. BL: God forbid he blame himself for being such a knob... LM: Can you say knob on television? Oh, I guess you can. Anyway, not only are the teams unorthodox, but all the people involved hate each other! Kowalski and Thunder... No recap necessary... Kowalski and Quigley... The midcarder comments... Quigley and Warnett... Meeting each other at Midsummer Madness... Warnett and Thunder... BL: No past, but just give it a chance... LM: You better believe it. Let's get comments from Marty Warnett on this encounter... [SCENE: A crowded arena located nearby Portland. Dross and the intrepid, yet also strangely decrepit IIWF camera crew stand around, the mic man smoking a cigarette.] TD: Hey, Dave, what brand is that? It smells heavy and yet sickly sweet. [Dave quickly throws the cigarette (brand 'leafus dopius') away. Various giggles are heard from colleagues, along with a "There goes the drug test" comment. The crew are hanging around backstage at a Bush gig. Various roadies are busy packing up the sound gear. Many of them have tattoos, including a "Kowalski [BLEEPS] goats... I have proof" design. Teenage girls are busy trying to persuade security to let them speak, ahem, tongues with their heroes. Several come into shot, laughing at Dross in his polyester suit. The girls eventually disappear, and Marty appears in view, clutching a bottle of Mooselips.] MW: Hey Dross, how's things? TD: Oh, not too bad. The rain has kinda ruined my carrot patch in the garden, but it should suit the potatoes. [A cameraman's assistant collapses in a heap, giggling hysterically. Marty smiles.] MW: Lemme guess, Dross, you want comments about Quigley and his comments about my comments about him, huh? TD: Errr ... yes ... no, I don't know. My head feels dizzy. MW: Well, let me see. Chris has a new catchphrase? "I'm going to _pound_ you?" I guess I'd be more worried if he stated "I'm going to make you flood." Maybe Becky's used to hearing that... TD: I'm sure I don't know what you mean. MW: Hey, I hadn't finished, y'know. Chris, I love you. No, really, you kill me. You see, paying your dues is important to any wrestler. Absolutely anyone, be the biggest, smallest or gimmickiest. I'm approaching my fiftieth bout here in the IIWF, I guess I'm still a rookie, huh? You state that the young wrestlers eventually get their butts kicked by their older, wiser, cagier counterparts. Chris, I went through that stage, but then again you weren't even here then. Verhoeven, the Outlaw - incidentally, I want to take this opportunity to state that I don't believe those rumors about Hardin having an affair with a male author - they all beat me, and beat me up. I learnt more from those two bouts than from all four with you Chris. Why? TD: Why? MW: Chris, you've become stagnant, a mere remnant of your ego's deluded belief in your own invincibility. Whilst you decry me for partying, I accept I'm beatable, but not by you ... you are just so damned predictable, Chris. Oh look, everybody, a Quickstroke. Chris, if you should get that move on me, I'll break it. TD: How? MW: Trade secret, Tim, a trade secret. Every move can be broken. This PPV is my opportunity to get back to the top of the IIWF, pure and simple, and Chris, if you think you can make a man out of me, hell, I'm more man than you'll ever be, and doesn't Stephanie just know it? TD: That's completely uncalled for, Marty... MW: Well, tell her to quit calling me! Anyways, Dross, I've got to go -- time waits for no Maniac when there's a party to attend. I'll tell you what. I'll give you an exclusive next Friday. TD: What? What? MW: Geez, Tim, quit begging! I will reveal exclusively to IIWF viewers why Chris left the federation before, and why he came back. [The lights go out in the arena, as the camera fades to black.] LM: I wonder what Warnett has up his sleeve? BL: I don't know... An arm? LM: Hey, I guess you're right... Next up we have comments from Steve Kowalski... [The silence is broken by the crashing sound of a chain falling to the floor. The New Jersey Nightmare, Steve "The Fury" Kowalski, kicks the chain aside.] SK: Ya don't chain the beast... ya unleash the beast! Lockin' a man up with panty waste like Marty leads only to beatin's on both sides of the track! Fer Marty... fer Chrissy... fer Brody! Ha ha ha! I still got the hat an' it fits damn fine. Yer right, Brody, takes a real man to wear a hat like this. An' you ain't man 'nuff. [Pausing, Kowalski looks at the poster for Saturday night behind him. Tracing the letters of Marty Warnett's name, he turns to the camera...] Sk: An' what the [BLEEP] is he doin'!?! I mean did he set this crap up to revive he weak-ass career? Marty lets get down to brass tacks. Ya had yer moment of history wit' a tainted win over yers truly. But don't think ya won me over. Ya make one mistake, yer compost! [He lights a stogie, continuing.] SK: Or is it yer fault, Chrissy? Is this the rematch ya were gonna grant me? Ya friggan' coward! Jus' when ya started to earn yer stripes, ya took the easy way out. Let me tell ya somethin', hidin' 'hind that cow-humpin' pussy... won't get ya much more than a beatin'! ["Don't Fear the Reaper" starts up and the camera starts to fade.] SK: An' Brody... Do ya really think this changes things... do ya really? [Fade.] LM: What a foul mouthed... BL: Great, isn't it? LM: You _would_ think so... Who do you pick in this one? BL: If it comes down to who's left standing? The ref... No, I take that back... Nobody. It's just going to be a big huge fight... LM: I'm forced to agree. BL: Then I'm changing my mind... ------------------------------ 7. NON-TITLE MATCH: Requiem vs. Mad Dog Watkins ------------------------------ LM: This match will pit the two top singles champs in the IIWF against each other... BL: No... The top IIWF champ and some guy that is carrying the belt that belongs to Casey James. LM: We've been over this before, Brian. BL: Hey, I'm not the only one who thinks so... A lot of people feel that Requiem will never truly be champ until he beats Casey James. LM: He had the chance, but James no-showed! BL: That's right... Requiem _still_ couldn't beat the _real_ champ! LM: [sighs] Well, folks, whether you recognize Requiem as the champion or not, you have to admit that this one should be a great match. BL: Ummmm.... Hmmmmm.... Oh, alright... It should be interesting. LM: Glad you think so, Brian. Let's get comments from the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Requiem. [SCENE: The Gymnasium, deep within the subterranean cavern complex known as the Cathedral Of Souls, home to Gabrielle and her brother, Requiem, the Angel Of Destruction. The pale wavering yellow of candlelight casting the gleaming chrome of the exercise equipment in an unusual light. As the camera moves closer we see that both Requiem and Gabrielle are busy training, Requiem working on his upper body strength whilst Gabrielle kicks the crap out of a heavy training bag. As Requiem spots the camera he stops, grabs a towel, and stands to face the camera:] RQ: Hmmm... so much to say, so little time in which to say it. Where to begin? G : [shouting over from the punching bag] Why not that tramp, Heidi? RQ: Why not, indeed? Well, Otto, you really have done it now, haven't you? Let me remind you of a few facts: [Requiem begins ticking things off on his fingers] 1. Heidi took action first, by pouring that water over my sister. G : [interrupting] Hey, if that [BEEP] can't take a little harmless name-calling, she sure shouldn't be in _this_ business! RQ: [continuing as if uninterrupted] 2. Gabrielle decided to get her own back. Just a bit of harmless fun between women, something I'm sure Steve Roberts was watching with his tongue hanging out and camera at the ready. You will notice, Otto, that I did not try to separate them. I decided to let the women fight it out amongst themselves, but _no_, the mighty Otto Verhoeven won't stand for that, so he puts his hands on my sister! [At the last sentence, Requiem begins to grow angry] RQ: You shouldn't have done that, Verhoeven! You got me angry, and you sure as hell don't want to see what I'm capable of when I'm angry! You got everything you deserved! 3. Heidi, deciding apparently that she is Brunnhilde or something, tries to stop four or five grown men from beating the crap out of you, and gets hurt in the process! Hey, Otto, you wanna blame somebody for that? Blame your girlfriend's stupidity! 4. Gabrielle and Heidi haven't quite finished duking it out in the ring, and when my sister continues the argument, you once more attack her! VERHOEVEN, YOU MUST HAVE A DEATHWISH! Otto, I never laid a hand on your girlfriend, and yet you think I'm going to regret it after _you_ lay grubby hands on _my_ sister not once but _twice_? Who's the one beating on women here, 'Butcher'? It's not me, and that's for sure! [Requiem suddenly grows still, his anger retracting into a shell of cold fury as Requiem's voice seems to change timbre, becoming more menacing and... darker] RQ: Otto Verhoeven, for your transgressions against my sister you shall pay dearly. I am the unholy trinity of darkness, Verhoeven. I am The Master of Darkness, the Herald of Damnation, and I am The Angel of Destruction! I am all three dark avatars rolled into one, and at Midsummer Madness I'm going to introduce you to all three, one at a time, in the most painful ways I can imagine! And you know what, Verhoeven? I won't stop until you beg for mercy... And then you will learn that there can be no mercy for the damned! G : Yeah, that's good to know, bro. Respect to the Requiem, an' all that, but what about IceHawk? What about Cold Spell? [At Gabrielle's voice Requiem seems to 'snap out of it'. Blinking once or twice he turns to face her...] RQ: Well, what about them? [Requiem turns back to face the camera, a subtle smile on his countenance] RQ: Icehawk, you want to know who owns the belts? Well, kid, that's an easy one to answer... You do. You earned those belts, and regardless of what a minority of unkind fans and the petty and jealous wrestlers in the IIWF might think, you hold those belts as true champions. Now, as to 'talentless hacks' or whatever you called us, well, I can forgive a lot. Remember that, kid. Genesis are united, a family, and as long as we stay that way nothing can harm us. G : Wow, here endeth the first lesson! I love it when you do the pep talk, bro. Born leader, that's what I say. RQ: Oh, Gabrielle, not you too! I am sick of this. I do not lead Genesis, Genesis are not my "thugs," Genesis are not my "cronies" or whatever other insulting terms people such as Dross might use. We are united, and together we stand. We are one. G : Did you catch what Kauffman said? I woke up to hear some guff about cutting the belt into five or something? RQ: Yes, I heard. Dan, you're right -- we should have cut it into pieces, but President Spreadbury forbade it. Before I even became champion I warned each and every wrestler in the IIWF: When you face one member of Genesis, you face us all. You do not just face the IIWF champion, you face the united forces of Genesis! That is why we are so strong, Dan! I proudly hold the belt on behalf of Genesis, not myself. Got a problem with that, Dan? Anybody got a problem with that? Do something about it. Take the championship from me. That includes you, Otto. Beat me at Midsummer Madness and you get the belt, and then, Dan, assuming that Otto gets no help from the Casey James Gang _whatsoever_, you'll be able to claim it all belongs to one man. But I'm betting that Otto Verhoeven can't get the job done. G : Or that's the whisper from Heidi, at any rate! Hahaha! RQ: That was a cruel jibe, little sister. G : Thanks, bro. RQ: Not a problem. [Fade] BL: Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber... LM: If they're so stupid, Brian, how did they overthrow the Syndicate from the "stable terrorizing the IIWF" throne? BL: Shut up. LM: I should mention that more often, shouldn't I? BL: Do it, and you'll be picking up your teeth with broken fingers. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- 8. TEN MAN TAG TEAM MATCH: Team Genesis: Highwayman, Scott Rogers, Serge Annis & Cold Spell vs. Team Old Gen: Otto Verhoeven, Dan Kauffman, Deathbringer & The Syndicate ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: And here it is! For weeks now, we've wanted someone to stand up to Genesis, and here we have it! Five of the IIWF biggest veteran stars banding together to fight a common enemy. BL: But Dan Kauffman? LM: We all know how you feel about that, Brian. I must admit, it is strange... For Tiger Claw to want to team with Kauffman, for James to team with Kauffman, for Verhoeven to team with Kauffman, for Deathbringer to team with Kauffman... Well, it's got to be a great cause if history like that is going to be put in the past. BL: It just occurred to me that the only two people that actually like each other on this team are Casey and Claw... Oh, and Verhoeven... He's a stand up guy... Everyone else has a problem with everyone else on the team! LM: Can they put their differences aside in order to overcome the scourge that is Genesis? BL: God, I hope so. LM: We'll find out tomorrow night, but first, let's get comments from some of the participants... First up, here's Scott Rogers... [SCENE: Veteran broadcaster Tim Dross stands before an IIWF backdrop, alone. There is a faint hissing noise in the background.] TD: Wrestling fans, the noise you can hear behind me is _not_ that of a snake, although many of you have written in describing him in such a way, it is in fact Scott Rogers and he is, as he did last week, spray-painting the word Genesis all over this fine backdrop we have here... [Rogers stands up, and appears in camera shot: his hair is cropped and dyed jet black. He is wearing a green polo shirt and blue jeans and, as is becoming customary, has an arrogant smirk on his face. He looks at Dross, threatening to spray him with the can in his hand. Dross puts his own hand up in the way. Rogers pushes his thumb down and a faint black spray can be seen. Dross looks on his hand.] TD: Gee, thanks, Scott. SR: Pleasure, Dross. TD: This isn't permanent, I presume? SR: Course not, Dross. TD: Good. It's just that the backdrop you ruined last week had to be disposed of as the cleaners, try as they might, could not get the stuff off! SR: Hey, Dross, they shoulda asked me before they did that. I'll tell ya somethin', that, and this, are worth a fortune on the black market. TD: Really? SR: Yeah. I mean, _I_ did it, didn't I...? TD: [thinking] Hmmm. I guess so. SR: Hey, Dross, what you "hmmm"in' at? TD: Nothing.. SR: [smirking] You know where it is, don't ya...? TD: Maybe. SR: Hey come on, Dross, don't get all cagey on me. We'll split the profits 50-50. TD: And you're sure it's worth a bit? [Rogers pauses and looks at the serious expression on Dross' face. He then bursts out laughing.] SR: 'Course it ain't, Dross, you prat. It ain't worth squat. I wrecked it, remember... TD: But... SR: No buts Dross. That's wrecked. This is wrecked. Every time I see one o' these damned things I'm gonna wreck it. TD: But why? SR: Why not? Why do anythin' Dross? I do things 'cause I wanta do 'em. Simple as that. TD: I see. So what will you be 'do'ing tomorrow night in the big ten man tag feature confrontation?! SR: Only twenny four hours to go and you'll find out, Dross. Believe me, it'll be worth waitin' for. Me and me partners, we've got everythin' sorted out. The "Gang" won't know what hit 'em. I mean, do these guys really think they can beat _us_? TD: Obviously, or they wouldn't be wrestling, correct? That's what you tell me when I ask you the same question... SR: Yeah Dross, but I know anyone I wrestle cannot beat me. James and his Gang don't have that knowledge I'm afraid. I mean, this guy Kauffman has gotta realize he ain't nothin'. He's old news for God's sake. [Dross begins to speak.] SR: Ah ah ah. Morton told me last week Kauffman's a legend. Sorry Dross, I don't buy it. It pains me to say it, but Roberts was right when he called him the most borin' man on the planet. Bet _his_ kids don't keep him awake at night! [Rogers smirks.] SR: You can imagine it Dross. They hear him comin' up to see 'em and one of 'em says to the other, 'Quick, daddy's comin'. Pretend you're asleep. If ya don't, ya will be in about two minutes!' [Rogers bursts into over-exaggerated laughter again. Dross smiles wryly.] TD: Yes, Scott, very amusing, but unfortunately we're wasting valuable time here. I know Brian Lau doesn't like to be kept away from the camera for more than five sec.... SR: Yeah yeah yeah. I'm sure Lau's more than happy to be listenin' to what I gotta say. TD: I beg to differ... SR: I don't got time to argue Dross. TD: Okay, maybe you can enlighten us, or just give your opinions on what's been making the news this week, as far as the IIWF is concerned of course. SR: You think I pay attention to anyone else but me and Genesis? TD: Don't you? SR: Yeah. Mota, congratulations. You beat the resident bum. Bet that makes ya one o' the best in the sport now, right? Wrong. Lebec's gonna take that belt at Midsummers.... TD: Huh? SR: You heard me straight Dross. And don't bother askin' how I know. I just do. Put it this way, Lebec's got class. TD: You _like_ Simon Lebec? SR: Did I say that, Dross? TD: No. SR: Well, shut it then. Oh yeah, Watkins is in for a severe beatin' at Midsummers too. Anyone who says I don't get a shot at their title is just askin' for trouble. And Watkins, you're lucky Adam's gonna take that belt in the ten man tag, 'cause if he wasn't, you'd have _me_ to deal with. [Rogers leaves the set. Fade out.] LM: As usual, a confident Scott Rogers. BL: And none too bright, I might add. LM: That's for the fans to judge, I guess... Next up, we've got comments from the German Juggernaut, the Teutonic Terror, Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven... [SCENE: A hospital room. A caption in the upper right corner says: "Taped on 24th August". In the only bed in the room lies Nurse Heidi, her head heavily bandaged. She is sleeping. Her delicate hand rests in the big paw of Otto Verhoeven, who sits by her side, taking not an eye from his resting fiancee. He is wearing a black track suit and looks tired, unshaven and concerned. On the opposite side of the bed stands a small man in a white coat, obviously a doctor.] DOCTOR: So, Mist-...Herr Verhoeven, as you can see the damage done to your fiancee is nowhere as serious as it first seemed. The blows to her head resulted in a slight concussion, which should be healed in a matter of days if she stays here and rests. OV: [not looking up] What about the damage done to her spine? What about that ring post that bastard Rogers rammed her into? DOCTOR: [hesitating] We...we are still examining if there are any long-term effects because of that attack. Of course she will not be paralyzed, but her athletic abilities MAY be impaired. We'll have to make some more tests and then decide what kind of therapy can help Miss Uppenmann. But...you have taken some hard shots yourself yesterday, haven't you? I heard that you refused to be exami- OV: [shaking his head] I am fine. Nothing, absolutely nothing Requiem, Annis or the other sideshow rejects can throw at me can stop me now, not after what they did to Heidi. This time Genesis has crossed the line. They can beat me up. That's part of the game, no one knows that better than me. But now you...you inbred, cowardly freaks have hurt the only person I actually care for. [He gently strokes some hair out of Heidi's face, then continues. His expression has changed from concerned to grim and determined.] OV: Do you think that it actually helps you when you ambush me week after week? Do you believe that you can injure me so that our scheming World Champion can keep his title for yet another week? Well, by attacking meine liebe you have utterly failed. Do you think that I will give up now, that I will miss my opportunity for revenge? At Midsummer Madness I will tear you apart, Requiem, limb for limb until all that remains of you are your freaky REMAINS! [He quickly glances at Heidi but she didn't wake up. He continues in a lower voice.] OV: I heard that this week there will be an Old Gen/New Gen tag-match. I am honored to fight side by side with the other IIWF _legends_, but I am in this match only for one reason: To obliterate Scott Rogers. We all know that he is in that pathetic little group only for one reason: Because he is afraid. He is scared to death by the thought of standing alone in the IIWF, knowing that a talentless piece of body-building trash like him wouldn't survive on his own for very long. So he decided to hide behind big boy Requiem and his freaks. But when I get him in the ring nobody will be able to protect him from me. He will have to learn the full meaning of the word retaliation. [He again looks at the still sleeping Heidi, and his face gets soft once more.] OV: Pray that she will leave this hospital fully recovered, Genesis. If she doesn't, the consequences for all of you will be horrible. [Fade to black as Verhoeven gently strokes Heidi's hand.] LM: That is one angry man. BL: You know, Genesis really messed up. You don't pull on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't order Fajitas at McDonalds, and you don't piss off the toughest man to ever grace an IIWF ring. LM: That's a colourful way of putting it. BL: Better believe it. I'm going to enjoy watching Herr Verhoeven take that smirk on Rogers' face and stick it straight up his... LM: On that note, let's get comments from the one and only, Dan "Flash" Kauffman, which were taped at a recent house show! [The cameras open backstage, in the garage area. A single man is walking up towards the camera from the aisles of cars, an Orioles hat on and a leather jacket in tow. As he gets closer, the blond hair becomes evident, and the face of Dan Kauffman becomes more easily recognizable. As he continues to talk, he stares ahead, not looking into the camera, but speaking...] DK: Joe Petrow says I've thrown his respect in his face. says I've ruined the spirit of Petrow/Kauffman. Petrow, as far as I knew, there was no spirit. We had a match. A time limit draw. Probably one of the best clean matches in IIWF history. And now you say that I've spoiled it? I don't get you at all. Not many people do get you, Joe. You've always been unique. But you say I've disgraced you. Interesting. Requiem. You certainly said a mouthful on Monday, didn't you? Okay, I forgot Shakespeare. He certainly had a hand in the making of this great fed. But if you had been listening well, I mentioned a lot more wrestlers than the four I'm aligning with. Am I a little egotistical? Perhaps. But saying I helped make the IIWF is a fact. You only thing you seem to do well, Requiem, is create havoc. You say havoc is a good thing, you say the fans want it so that they can protest loudly against it. I s'pose that is true in the wrestling scene. I guess it's natural for people like you to be needed in wrestling. I'm not saying everyone has to be a boy scout. I'm saying everyone needs to show a little respect to their sport and the athletes involved. Requiem, you can act the way you do, but if you think your thug ways are what wrestling needs, you either don't know what wrestling represents, or, more to the point, you don't care. Does any of that even matter? Petrow said an intelligent thing the other day about this entire thing... The only winning card seems to be not to play at all. But it's too late for me. But there is still one thing I can do. Requiem, you want me to stand face to face, toe to toe, nose to nose against you? You know damn well that I will. I was the first to stand up to Deathbringer. I stood toe to toe with Casey James. J.W. Hardin didn't back me away. I may not have always come out healthy, but if you want me to look you dead in the eye and earn respect, Requiem... You got it. I may not live through tonight. Maybe you will put me out of this sport for good. Maybe I have been a big fraud my entire career. Maybe I have done no good for this wonderful sport. Maybe I've suckered all the fans. Maybe all my critics are right. Maybe it was I who did everything the wrong way. Maybe I should have stayed away. But right or wrong, fraud or no, I've never backed down from anyone. And Requiem, I'm not starting now. The talk about respect is done. It's time to earn some. And that, my friend, is what I do best. [Kauffman, having walked all the way through the corridors by now, walks into his dressing room and shuts the door. The camera fades out...] BL: Yappity, yappity, yap, yap. The thought is nice, but the delivery sucks. LM: Nothing pleases you, does it? BL: Nope. LM: Well, then I hate to think about what you'll think of these next comments... Folks, here is Deathbringer... [Scene: The mortuary. Deathbringer is sitting behind the old wooden table, which is placed in the rear left corner of the mortuary. The Dark Destroyer is holding his head with both hands, looking down to the floor, constantly mumbling something which the camera cannot pick up. After a few seconds Deathbringer looks up, notices the camera and lowers his hands before standing up very slowly. He takes a few steps around the table, then decides otherwise and takes a seat behind the table again. He now shakes his head and raises his hands again, but instead of falling back in his primal position, he suddenly jumps up, looks at the camera with his piercing-red eyes and shouts out just three single words, before sitting down again] DB: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH... [Deathbringer shakes his head again. After a few seconds he begins to speak in his usual, low, growling, emotionless voice] DB: There will not be much talking coming out of my mouth tonight... As a matter of fact, I am confident that less talking is more productive than endless monologues... and it certainly is not mere coincidence, that names like Serge Annis, Requiem or ... well, Tonnage come into my mind... Years ago, wrestlers were judged by the way they fought. They were judged by the way they decimated their opponents. And they were judged by the titles they wore around their waists... Today it seems as if more and more wrestlers do not know how to fight a clean match anymore... It seems as if they are just out there in all the leagues around this world to capture belts... and to show those belts to the capacity crowd in each and every arena they show up in... Now, there is nothing wrong with aiming for the gold... it's just a difference whether you gain the crown on your own two feet, or by the help of another dozen feet, which are carrying you on their corresponding shoulders... And so it came that one cannot judge a wrestler by the way he he fights anymore... Who can tell how good a wrestler really is, if he always relies on the interferences of his comrades to gain the victory. Requiem, Annis... you are nothing without your stable-mates... maybe you can beat one of those jobbers, maybe you can even beat someone who doesn't weigh more than 200 pounds... But I doubt that you can beat someone like the Butcher Otto Verhoeven, or Dan Kauffman, or _ME_ without the help of those other fools... As a matter of Fact, Annis, I showed you that you cannot defeat me already... and Requiem... dare to meet me one on one, without anybody else around ringside... and I will show you, what you are _really_ all about... [Pause] One cannot judge a wrestler by the way he decimates his opponents anymore either... and this because of the same reason... if I look at some of the tapes concerning the Genesis-situation, and especially if I look at some of the tapes where _I_ personally was involved... well, sure did keep me down on the floor with all those fire-extinguishers and handcuffs... and sure did you manage to batter me down with the help of a dozen hands which were bashing down at me... But, Requiem... this doesn't tell anything about your professionality, this doesn't even tell anything about your guts or your pure destructive capabilities... no... it just tells something about your foolish thoughts... Maybe you succeeded by using these tactics at first... but soon, Requiem, soon it will be payback-time... [Pause] However, the most important fact is that you cannot anymore judge a wrestler by the belts he wears around his waist... Just look at the IIWF-championship-title... Once it was worn by proud warriors of the wrestling ring. Names like Dan Kauffman, the Subway Psycho or the Outlaw J.W. Hardin come into my mind as I think about those days... Sure, none of them was flawless, and all of them had to accept the jeering of the crowd during their way here in this league... but the fact is, Requiem, that they all had more guts than you will ever have, and they all were far more valiant and far more deserving champions then you ever will be... Yes, the crowd may have jeered at the Outlaw for some of his deeds... but in some hidden, inner part of their heart, they looked up to him, looked up to him for what he had accomplished... and if anybody is allowed to say this than it is me, as it was the Outlaw who cost me the belt some months back... But you, Requiem, do not deserve that belt, and as you are wearing it around your waist, I get a feeling that this belt has lost all of his meaning in the wrestling world... Yes, go around, ask whomever you like and everyone will tell you that the IIWF cannot be a serious league, as long as that clown wears the belt... You, Requiem, were never born to be king... but you were born to be a jester of the fools... and in just a few days, the mighty Otto Verhoeven will take back the belt from you... now if I were him, then I would _burn_ the belt afterwards, as you have dirtied it so much, no one will ever be able to clean it again... [Pause] I did not want to talk that much, and as a matter of fact I did not... But I hope you got the essence of what I meant... [Pause] Well, but even if you did not... tomorrow night, I will show you what I meant and I will make sure, that the breed called Genesis will pay for it's deeds... yes, I come to take the ultimate toll... your very lives... [Fade] BL: Is it just me or does Deathbringer seem more lively these days? LM: What do you mean? BL: I don't know, he used to just say what was on his mind, then that was it. In the last few weeks, he's been laughing like a mad hatter, and right there, near the end, he started to rant. LM: I'm sure this battle against Genesis is draining enough to change any man... Even Deathbringer. BL: Eh... ======================================================================== ---------------------------IIWF-TRASH-TALK------------------------------ ======================================================================== LM: Next up are some comments from some of the IIWF who won't be seeing action tomorrow night... Actually, let me correct myself... Joe Petrow will see action of a sort tomorrow when he puts on the referee's stripes and actually officiates a match. BL: Oh, _that_ won't be a disaster, now, will it? LM: Well, I should say that Petrow seems to have interests in what is best for the IIWF lately... Let's check out his comments... [The lone light in a dark, dank area illuminates the area of "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, seen for the first time wearing eyeglasses, along with the traditional IIWF referee uniform, intently studying a large book. It is obvious that Petrow has been at this for a while, as he temporarily removes his glasses to rub his baggy eyes. As the camera comes closer, Petrow places a bookmark inside, shuts the cover, and looks to the camera] JP: There are some people who think that my being assigned the position of special referee for the main event at Midsummer Madness is some kind of joke. It's no joke to me. The IIWF World's title is in shambles; it's credibility destroyed, eroded away by champions-by-committee like The Players Club, The Syndicate, and now Genesis. But September 6th, it's going to be one-on-one, man against man. And I am determined to be prepared to handle ANY situation that threatens that from happening. The suits handed me that same little pamphlet they give all their refs, but I said "NO! I'm doing it right!" So all week long, I've been here in the IIWF Archives, studying the UNABRIDGED IIWF Rulebook! And to honest, I haven't seen a more fascinating read since the Kama Sutra! The rules of the IIWF were originally adapted from the Marquis of Queensbury wrestling rules of 1888. But rather than keep up with the rules as times changed, the IIWF decided to just add EVERY rule change and addition ever made, and pare it down from there. Only thing is, the guy responsible for doing this died of a heart attack, so according to this book, just about EVERY rule ever made since then can be enforced in the IIWF! [Petrow reaches for one of the bookmarks, and opens the huge book to the corresponding page] Check this out: according to a 1957 addition, hurriedly added after that unfortunate Waldo Roberts incident, "any wrestler that knowingly brings a wild animal with him to ringside shall be immediately disqualified, and suspended for 30 days; 45 if the animal is found to have rabies." Under some interpretations, that means the Dirt Dog can be disqualified just for showing up for a match! And I bet you thought the only way to win a title in a normal match was by pinfall or submission, right? WRONG! In this addendum to title match rules from 1903, "if the champion has been counted out of the ring for a 10 count, the challenger may request that the referee continue the count to 20. If the champion is able to enter the ring before the 20 count, he wins the match by disqualification, and retains the title. However, if the champion does not make the 20 count, the challenger wins the match AND the title by "double countout," not to be confused with the situation in which both wrestlers are simultaneously counted out of the ring." And I won't even get INTO all the racist rules enacted in the 50s that are, by the charter of this league, still the law of the land in the IIWF! But by FAR the most important passage in this book comes at the very beginning [Petrow flips to the front of the book, and reads] "The referee has sole jurisdiction of the outcome of a match. He retains the right to enforce as needed, any and all of the rules stated hereafter, BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!" Man, the person who wrote this had some cajones, didn't he! Over the past few weeks, I've proven that I'm the only man who can keep the Requiem/Verhoeven situation under control. And this Saturday night, in my "trial run", so to speak, I will prove to everyone, that I will keep the Requiem/Verhoeven match under control as well. [Petrow slam the book shut, and speaks softly] JP: By any means necessary... [Fade out] BL: Sychosis X? LM: It would appear that Petrow will make sure that nobody breaks any rules when he's on duty... BL: Wonderful... It seems like he's going to dig deep for obscure rules... Like that one outlawing ropes on the ring... LM: What? BL: Long time ago... One of the commissioners figured it would be like going back to roots to take the ropes off the ring... Give matches more of a Greco-Roman feel... That came to a quick end when Shep "The Redneck" McCoy went for his patented Virginia Banjo Pick off the ropes and fell right onto his head on the floor. LM: I don't remember that one. BL: It's in the archives... LM: I'll have to take your word for it. Moving on, though, next up we've got comments from the former Cruiserweight champion of the IIWF, the man that lost to Derek Mota last Saturday, Dirt Dog Unique Allah. [Fade in: Dirt Dog Unique Allah collapses onto a butterfly chair, a bottle in a brown paper bag in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. A trail of saliva runs from the corner of his mouth, drying into hard white flakes on his cheek. His fangs glitter in his mouth, the gold now studded with diamonds. Behind him stand members of his harem, two light-skinned, Black-Polynesian-looking women in grass skirts with coconut bras who fan him with palm fronds. Unique's hair is a mess of tangles and braids and is dyed blonde and blue. His eyes look glassy, barely there.] DDUA: Y'all, I want to apologize for my performance out there Saturday night. I mean, I don't want to say that wasn't me out there cause I think y'all recognize me and such by now. They done said that I couldn't be considered a fluke champion no more. Well, me, I wondered why they considered me a fluke at all? I mean, sure, I may not be as pretty as somebody like the "Showstopper", but I got me some real pretty ladies behind me, don't I? [Dirt Dog waves his arm vaguely in the direction of the two women.] DDUA: This all came with the belt so you don't think I'm gonna defend it? All right, so I might not have been on top of my game all perfect like the other night. Okay, I may have had a little alcohol in me. But you know how it is. I got some Cherokee in me and like Nightwing the Phoenix or whatever the fuh his name will testify you can't give no firewater to a Injun it just messes 'em up. But I love it though. It's so sweet and it burns so good. Better than that gonorrhea that I got clapped up with the other time with that ... what was her name, Sophie? [Sophie, the woman on the right, shrugs. She looks to her partner.] Woman: Lucille I believe. DDUA: Yeah, that's right. That red-headed Lucille. [Desi Arnez imitation] Lucy, you got some 'splainin to do. Thanks, uh, uh. [The woman on the left spins around, showing Unique her butt.] DDUA: JANET!!! Yeah, I may forget a face, but I damn sure never forget a booty. So like I was sayin'. What the hell was I sayin'? Somebody hep me, please. I think they got me kind of messed up takin' these pills and ish with this here firewater. The success of a muhfuh is measured in his character. Well, I just proved 'em wrong. Cause y'all don't think of me as nuthin' but a joke. Y'all hear me? I ain't a joke, okay? And it upsets me when y'all start going on about how he's a drunk, how I'm a bum. Hey, I'm just here to play ball ... no, I mean wrassle ... why you gotta bring my private life into all this? Y'all never want to talk about the good things I done round here. I mean, I make a lot of people laugh. I make a lot of people happy and want to dance. That's what I do. That's what I'm good at. They say this is a serious business, but if I made one child in the audience laugh one night then I'm satisfied I did my bit for the nation. Cause thats one child that ain't gonna go home at night and get tortured by the demons. Y'all don't know nuthin' bout that ish, do ya? Y'all don't know about hangin' your milk outside the window cause your fridge don't get cold. Y'all don't know about drinkin' Kool-aid and sugar water for breakfast. Bread fried in grease for lunch and supper and sharing that ish with everybody who didn't have 'nuff to eat. Man, let me tell you. That ish will mess you up. It will. It ain't easy being me. It ain't good, neither. Yeah, I'm dirt. Yeah, I'm a dead man walking. That's all true ish, but don't look at me like I'm just some piece of crap. Look at me like I'm a human being. A muhfuh'ing human being. I got foibles. I got failures. I got ... [wicked smile] ... into dusa's panties. [Evil laugh] Y'all can't say that. And they's big panties too. No hips, pure ass! That's a muhfuh, ain't it? That's a woman y'all. Let me tell you. That's a woman. Got damn! Yeah, she makes me wanna holla! But it ain't as sweet as my Shakeemah's love. She the one that hepped me get through it all. When I was low, when I didn't have nuthin', nuthin' at all. She was the one what hepped me. She was a good little wife. Well, she sho wasn't little, but Shakeemah was great. Yeah, Shakeemah was great. Oh, Shakeemah was great. And I miss that woman. Lord, I miss the hell out of that woman. And I ain't been right since. I been tryin' to fill a hole that's been in my heart since the first day. Baby, come back. Baby baby, your little doggie done lost his mind. And soon, all this gon' go too. I can't take it. I can't take the spotlight no more. Please! Somebody help me before I kill a man. See, that Showstopper. He's everything I hate. That's exactly what he is. He's everything I hate. He come prancin' down the aisle with a big name, a big reputation and all that ish. He got all kinds of women, just like me, but he don't have to buy them nuttin. He got that pretty long hair that people think is so fly. I got pretty long hair, too. [Unique grabs at his matted locks.] DDUA: Simon Lebec, you's a muhfuh of the highest degree! And I don't like you! I hate you, muhfuh! I hate you. You think you can represent this Cruiserweight title better than me? Yeah, you're probably right, but because of that, I ain't lettin' you get the chance. Hell, no. I can't do that. You might get a what you call it -- superiority complex or somethin'. That don't work for me. I don't like that kind of ish. Boy, you're what they always loved. Every little geeky masturbatin' young boy out there said they wanted to be just like you when they grew up and they palms weren't good enough no more. But I tell ya, whenever this next damn PPV comes around. You ain't gonna see a soul that's gonna want to be you. Cause I'm gonna maim you. I'm gonna hurt you so bad it's gonna be incredible. You think I give a damn about whatever happens to me? I don't. My spirit is crushed already. My mind is ruined. So why the hell not just go all the way to hell, right? And when I do, I'm taking you with me, muhfuh! I'm takin' it there. You'll be kickin' and screamin' and the Dog will be fightin' and bitin' and then, oh man, you ain't gonna wanna see what happens next. I don't wanna do it, but [Dirt Dog begins to cry] that ish be talkin' to me. That firewater be talkin' and beggin' me to do some bad ish. And I can't stop her. She be singin' to me like the siren's song. She be singing and callin' and I can't stop her, yo. She got me now. You know what I mean? See, she's my mistress now. And I'm just a bad little dog. I'm just a bad little dog. [Unique collapses from his chair, lying facedown on the ground, sobbing. Fade out as Sophie and Janet just look at each other and keep fanning.] LM: Ummm, okay... BL: What a piece of work that Dog is, huh? LM: He's... Original... BL: [laughing] Oh, yeah... That's one way of putting it... LM: Anyway, we've got some more comments for the fans at home. These last two are from some new talent rumored t be making their way to the IIWF. First off, let's take a look at this package from a man known only by the initials "B.G." [SCENE: A black screen. White letters begin to fill the screen, reading] "ARE YOU GUILTY?" [The sound of a ticking clock becomes audible, as the letters disappear from the screen and leave it black again. New letters appear at the screen, reading] "OR CAN YOU THROW THE FIRST STONE?" [The sound of a gong becomes audible, as the letters disappear from the screen. They are instantly replaced by a set of other letters, reading] "WE WILL FIND IT OUT" [Now a gothic choir becomes audible, as the letters are again replace with new ones, which now read] "B.G. --- COMING SOON TO THE IIWF" [A bell tolls and the screen fades] BL: Every time I hear choir music, I worry that another dead guy is coming to the IIWF. LM: I don't know if that's the case or not, but I'm interested to see just who this newcomer is. I'm sure we'll have more for the fans at home in the weeks to come. Next up, we have some comments from a man named Matt Malone. I'm told he's a manager, and he'll be bringing one of his clients into the IIWF very soon... Let's take a look... [The scene opens to Matt Malone's office. Bearing a likeness to James Belushi, finishes counting his money at his big mahogany desk. He looks up at the camera and is clearly not his usual jolly self ] MM: I want to say something. And I want you all to listen. I want to talk about some over-rated pimp here in the IIWF called Dan Kauffman, a guy treated like some kind of god, for what reason I have no idea. [Matt shakes his head and puts his money away in his safe, then leans across the desk towards the camera ] MM: Now, he comes back and starts talking like some...some fool actually, and everyone listens to him as if he's the messiah. He comes back talking about 'respect'. Yeah, respect. Well, Mr. Kaufmann, there's only one thing in this world that deserves respect... [Matt points to his safe.] MM: And that is MONEY! It doesn't matter how you get it. What matters is that you get it. Let me tell you something Kaufmann. It's easy enough to say you'd like everything back to basics and everyone respecting each other, but you know what will happen? We'll see wrestling in the position it was 50yrs ago - small, smoky rooms and two men kicking away at each other. Sure, it's not so gimmicky, but where is the money? For wrestling to survive it needs to be attractive to wrestlers and fans. And the best way to attract wrestlers is with money - which you get from fans and advertising - and the best way to get more fans is broaden the appeal - make it more family orientated and less macho. Sure, it may be humiliating for a guy to put on a dress, but by god it's entertaining, and people, whether you like it or not Kaufmann, come to see that. They pay to see it. They LOVE to see it. THEY pay YOUR wages. THEY make it possible for you to live in your Malibu Barbie dreamhouse. Do you hear what I'm saying? You may not like it Kaufmann, but you know I'm right. Now either sleep on the bed with the devil or sleep outside. [Matt looks out of the window for a second, then proceeds...] MM: Do you know what I see out there? I see drunks, down and outs. I've got no respect for them. Why? Because they don't have MONEY. People without money are without power, and without power, you're nothing. You're less than nothing. And I'd rather give the time of day to a scab like Scott Rogers than look at them. People respect me, you see. But if I didn't have money, I'd get none. Bottom-line is this Kaufmann - wrestling has changed to survive, and to grow. We don't need people with your retarded in this sport anymore. If you're not prepared to put on a show, if you're not prepared to be stripped naked in the centre of the ring for a bit of entertainment or profit...go home. [An angry Matt Malone swivels away in his big leather chair. Scene fades] BL: Now _there_ is a guy I think I could get to like. LM: What? He's a greedy little toad! BL: Alright, Larry... Number one, I dare you to say that to his face, and number two, the only people who complain about soeone being a greedy little toad are the people without money. He knows what he's talking about. LM: Wonderful... A little friend for Brian Lau to play with. BL: Only if he pays me. LM: Oh, really? BL: Can that action right there, dimwit. You know what I meant. LM: I think I do... Anyway, folks, that's just about all the time we have for this week. Be sure to tune in tomorrow for IIWF Saturday Night for action that only the IIWF can offer. Until next week, when Brian and I will be back to count down to the next Saturday, This is Larry Morton saying so long! +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+