the.weej

(Comet) – Ladies and gentlemen…welcome back to SWF Smarkdown! It’s been an incredible night so far, and we know it’s only going to get better as we get closer towards our huge main event…Va’aiga defending his newly won SWF title against Dace Night in a very bizarre matchup up. (Riley) – That would be the Barbed Wire Cell Timebomb Deathmatch! (Comet) – Any idea what that is? (Riley) – No freaking clue…but I’m sure, by the time the match starts, someone will have clued us in. (Comet) – I certainly hope so. Anyway…as we get ready for our next match…a tag team contest that… “They don’t know…” “Who we be!” (Comet) – WAIT A SECOND!! “They don’t know…” “Who we be!” (Comet) – THIS CAN’T BE! MARK FIRED HIM…AND WITH GOOD REASON TOO!! “What they don’t know is…” KA-BOOOOOOOM!! A wall of fire erupts on the stage as the entire arena erupts into a deafening boo, while Comet goes apeshit over the appearance of HVT, only days after being fired from the SWF. (Riley) – C’mon now Comet…you didn’t think a little thing like being fired would stop a monster like Thugg, did you? Especially not after he found his beautiful and cherished Cadillac destroyed in the parking lot after Lockdown. (Comet) – Perhaps it was wishful thinking on my part. (HVT) – YO!! Cut my mutha fuckin’ music dogg! The smoke from the fire clears and reveals HVT’s angry mug on the Smarktron looking dead into the camera. The fans give him more heat as “Who We Be” by DMX fades out. (HVT) – First of all…everybody shut the fuck up…fo’ real. BOOOOOO!! “H-Ville!” “H-Ville!” “H-Ville!” “H-Ville!” (Riley) – See…you don’t have to worry any more. He’s not here… (Comet) – Yes Bobby…ladies and gentlemen, we’re receiving word that this feed is coming via satellite from Thugg’s home in Washington, DC. Thank goodness for that…but how did he get the air time? (HVT) – Secondly…Mark! Don’t even think ‘bout hobblin’ yo busted ass over to cut my feed. By da time you get yo old’ ass to the production truck…I’ll be done, and you will have failed…AGAIN…to defeat me. So, just sit there in yo fuckin’ office dogg, and listen up. (Comet) – He can’t talk to the commissioner like that! (Riley) – Actually, he’s not employed here…so I think he can. Now shut up so I can hear… (HVT) – I’m gonna start wit you Mark. I bet you feel like a big man don’t you? You feelin’ all empowered and shit…firin’ me like that on national television? I know you are…I bet you fucked the hell outta Laura…Linda…Loraine…or whatever the your wife’s name is…last night. You was feelin’ all big and shit…and that’s tight. Mad props fo’ that. But…uhhhh…you should know something slim…you might’ve fired me dogg…but you know you ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easy. Cause I gots unfinished business yo…and I’m gonna take care of it…whether you like it or not. So…you got two choices cuz…either you can sit there like a good lil’ bitch, and let me handle my business…or you can get in my way and I can fuck you up. And don’t forget Mark…I know where you live…I know where yo fuckin’ wife and kid sleep dogg…so don’t fuck with me! BOOOOOO!! (Comet) – WHAT?!? Now he’s threatening Mark’s family?!? (Riley) – Uhhhh…Thugg? You’re my man and all…but you’re…uhhh…going a little too far. (Comet) – Too far? That’s the understatement of the year. This ain’t gonna sit well with Mark one bit. (HVT) – Yeah…dat’s right…I said that shit. If you don’t believe me cuz…try me. If you think King was bad…you ain’t seen shit yet if you fuck wit me dogg. BOOOOO!! (HVT) – Now…onto other shit…and that is what happened to my mutha fuckin’ ride last week. I bet you think you’re funny yo…I bet you think you’re a mutha fuckin’ comedian. I got news fo you bitch…you done fucked up cuz. Y’all know who I’m talkin’ about…dat lil’ ass mutha fucka…Alan Clark! RAAAAAA!! (HVT) – Ya see young buck…I guess since you from da fuckin’ JL...you don’t know how shit works up here wit da big dogs. Well, let me tell you…you don’t fuck wit HVT…plain and simple! Ask Mark what happens when you fuck wit HVT…he knows. You take yo ass whoopin’ like a man and you shut the fuck up. That’s how it works…but apparently you ain’t learn dat shit…and now you gotta pay. Cause not only did you bitch about dat shit…but you did the one thing you should never fuckin’ do…NEVER EVER FUCK WIT A BLACK MAN’S RIDE BITCH!! (Riley) – Yeah…Clark should know that by now. (Comet) – Shhhh. (HVT) – Do you have any idea how much fuckin’ money went into dat ride dogg? Da rims alone is more than yo whole mutha fuckin’ salary! And now it’s all fucked up…I can’t ride in dat shit. You never fuck wit a nigga’s ride…ever!! So, now I gotsta fuck you up cuz. You wanna act all big…talk all yo bullshit to Mark…let’s see how big you are when you got 400 pounds of pissed off black man all up in yo grill slim. Somebody should’ve told yo punk ass who you was fuckin’ wit…I’m H…V…to tha mutha fuckin’ T bitch…you betta recognize! BOOOOOO!! (HVT) – I hope you’re ready yo…cause I’m comin’ fo you. Ain’t no job…or being fired…or security…or no pig is gonna stop me from whoopin’ yo mutha fuckin’ ass. I’m comin’ back fo’ you…ain’t no where you can hide…ain’t no where to run…I’m puttin’ it to you…and you gonna truly know what it feels like to be my bitch! Don’t look to Mark to save you…cause he can’t help you. I’m gonna find you in da ring…backstage…in da locker room…or in da mutha fuckin’ street…and when I find you…I’m gonna rip both your arms off and beat you to fuckin’ death with them beeatch! You ain’t gonna know when I’m comin’ yo…so watch yo mutha fuckin’ back. You’re a marked man Clark…you’re fuckin’ marked! When I find you…I’m gonna… WRECK… YO… SHIT! BOOOOOOOO! (HVT) – Aight Mark…you can cut da feed now bitch! {Static} Cut to commercial.

As Smarkdown returns from a brief commercial break, the scene opens in the Unnamed’s dressing room which is decked out with streamers, tacky looking silver balloons and the like…cloth covered tables laden with cheap nibbles and full glasses of champagne scattered around the room as well. Despite what you’d expect to be a jovial setting, the actual inhabitants of the dressing room, the Unnamed themselves, look anything but in the party mood. Sensing the dingy mood everyone is in, Megan Skye pulls out the most desperate of all desperate attempts at lightening the mood… “Who wants to play charades!” A discontenting murmur echoes around the room, as Megan senses it and sits back down. With a sigh, Landon finally stands up and looks around the room…Todd nibbling on a sausage roll, Va’aiga looking at his reflection in the SWF World Title belt with a slight look of nervousness on his face, Duran looking utterly bored and Megan trying her best not to let Maddix notice her staring at him. “Look…I know Lockdown wasn’t the best of shows for us.” Landon says, stating the obvious. “I mean…I did lose my shot at the Cruiserweight Championship against Wildchild. Todd did lose against Coy West. And Va’aiga, you did lose to that...lesbian weirdo Annie Oni..." "Get to the point kid." Va'aiga says angrily. "O...ok..." stutters Landon. "The point is...Lockdown wasn't a good night. But tonight will be. Me and Todd can't lose to Spike Jenkins and Joke-ab Helmsley. There's no way that'll happen." "No way." Todd concurs. "And tonight champ, you and Dace inside of that...cell...thing. Not only will you will destroy Night, but you may very well cripple him. We've got all bases covered tonight. Which is why all these down under frowns need to get turned upside down...so we can celebrate the dawn of my 20th year on Todd's Royal blue earth." The other Unnamed members, excpet Todd and Megan stare blankly, as Maddix sighs. "My 20th birthday." "Oh!" Matheson says, realising what Maddix meant. "Well, sure Landon. No problem. We're not going to deprive you of your celebration. That's why I organised all this, we all got you presents, and t... "Presents?" questions Landon like a little kid on Christmas Day. "You...got me presents?" "Well of course...it is your birthday after all." "Well, forgive my impatience...but gimme, gimme, gimme!" Matheson chuckles and reaches behind one of the couches, Va'aiga and Duran still looking far from elated for Landon. As Matheson comes back from behind the couch, he's laden with wrapped gifts...the very sight of them lighting Landon up with a childish look of elation, Landon trying not to clap his hands together in excitement. "Ok...well, this one's from Todd..." "The Book of Todd...wow! Thanks Todd, I always wanted thi...what's this?" Landon questions, pulling a plastic card from between two of the pages. "Why the heck have you put your hotel room key in here?" With a look of shock Megan chokes slightly on her glass of champagne, as Maddix gives Todd a disgusted look. As he does so, Va'aiga stands up and places one of the boxes in Landon's lap. Quickly Maddix tears the wrapping apart, and hurriedly opens the box...a confused look adorning his face as he looks inside. "An...empty box. Thanks champ." "Kid, the present isn't in the box." Va'aiga replies impatiently. "Look, my present...is this..." Va'aiga raises his arm, ready to hit a lariat...causing Landon to try and dive over the couch for cover. "Nah...nah kid, stop." Va'aiga hurriedly says as Landon cautiously returns back to his seat. "The present ain't for you. Not...not really. Look...my present is this. If you ever need some punk to feel the sting from this lariat arm here, then you've a free one." "A...free one. You mean you charge people." "No, it's a figure of speech. But usually, when people ask for a lariat for someone, I expect a favour back. This one...it's a present to ya. Use it wisely kid." "I'll...bear it in mind. Thanks champ." "Ok..." Matheson interrupts. "I've go..." *KNOCK KNOCK* All eyes turn to the door, as Todd gets up, as he's nearest...opening the door to be faced by Alan Clark! Royal and Clark unsurprisingly glare at each other, as the other Unnamed members stand incase of any 'action.' "I'm not here for trouble." Clark says to everyone, while not looking away from Todd. "I came to talk to Landon." Landon walks over with a bemused look on his face, nodding to Todd that it's ok as he walks away. The other Unnamed members sit back down and continue their 'party', as Maddix steps outside of the room, closing the door up behind him. As he does, the bemused is replaced by one of anger as he snaps at Clark. "Listen...I don't know what the hell you think you're doing interrupting my party..." "Hey, Landon, I'm sorry." Alan says disingenuously. "I didn't realise you were having a party. I guess all that music and those hot women should have made it pretty clear. Look...I didn't come for a fight. You know me. I may not like you, and everything you're doing with these guys. But I respect you." "Oh, really?" Maddix says surprised. "You respect me. Well, if that isn't the best present I've recieved all day. Respect from the local busker. Did you actually want something, or did you just want to respect me?" "I...got you a present." Now totally confused, Landon still glares at Alan, as he reaches behind his back and heaves a present that can be best described as 'guitar shaped' from behind his back, and places it in front of Landon. "Oh...I wonder what this could be." Landon sarcastically sneers. "Listen, I know you don't like me, but like I say...I still respect you. And I'd like to think that someday when you come to your senses, you and me could..." "Woah woah...hold up there a second. Come to my senses? Let's get one thing straight here Alan...I don't need to come to my senses. I'm not the one strumming on my guitar, writing songs about emotional crap that nobody in this world would care about except when they're on the verge of suicide. I'm not the one running around picking fights with Thugg." "No...no, you're not." Alan agrees...slowly turning red as he begins to get angrier. "You're the one who's backing away from Thugg. He beats the crap out of you on the streets, and you just sweep it under the carpet and let him walk around continuing on with this anti-SJL campaign. If you had any ounce of guts you'd be helping me and helping Spike Jenkins to show that damn bully what us SJLers are about. But it seems associating yourself with this bunch has caused you to lose all your guts." "So you want my help the..." "I don't want or need your help. I do want you to realise that out of the three SJL guys Thugg beat up, you're the only one who's not doing a damn thing about it. Here...take your present, and think about what I said. And remember something Landon..." Alan glares right into Landon's eyes, getting a close to him as possible. "...people used to respect you. And you blew it." Angrily Clark storms off down the hallway, as Landon watches him go...before looking down thoughtfully at the present left at his feet...

With his gothic music playing into the background, ‘The Demon’ Jimmy Liston steps into the ring as we return from commercial to another exciting edition of SWF Smarkdown. Glaring at Funyon, the man in black tosses out some token insults to the crowd as he climbs up to the middle rope and raises his arms up into the air. “Man have I been impressed with this newcomer to the SWF,” admits The Cyclone Comet as Liston steps off the buckles and begins to take a long hard look down the aisle at where he knows that his opponent will be emerging in just a few seconds. “For a man of his size, this guy simply has a scary amount of power packed into his frame.” “And do you know why?” answers Bobby Riley. “Because Jimmy Liston has dedication to this sport unlike some filthy redneck bastards that seem to treat the business like a family vacation. Its amazing that Coy West even gets to his matches on time what with all the ankle biters he has to drag along.” Funyon calls into his microphone, “This next match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit and is to determine the number one contender to the USJL Championship at From the Fire. Introducing first, he weighs in tonight at 228 pounds and hails from Boston, Massachusetts. He is ‘THE DEMON’ JIMMEEEEEE LISTONNNNNNNNNNN! And his opponent…” With the sounds of Sara Evens singing harmonically throughout the arena, out pops the country flavor of Coy West as he comes bounding out of the entranceway with his usual amount of fire and energy. This week, added to his normal ensemble of a white tank top and blue jeans is a baseball cap that carries the NASCAR logo. Celebrating the start of the Winston (cell phones be damned) Cup races, Coy tosses the cap out to the cheering crowd before sliding underneath the bottom rope and into the ring. Continuing to hop about from one leg to the other, Coy looks like he’s about to explode with energy fresh off his win on the last SWF television program against Todd Royal. “Weighing in tonight at 240 pounds and hailing from the S. S. General Lee Junior, this is ‘The Coyote’ COYYYYYYYYY WESSSSSSSSSST!” Stepping in between both Liston and West is the official assigned to this contest, Matthew Kivell. Not bothering to over the last minute instructions due to having covered them backstage, Kivell signals to the timekeeper to get this one started right away. DING! DING! DING! Moving right in on Liston as the bell rings, Coy jumps right into a battle of strength as he locks up with a collar-and-elbow tie up only to be instantly shucked aside by the superior power of The Demon. Tossed right down on the canvas, Coy rubs the back of his head for a second as Liston immediately moves in to assault the fallen man from the wild west. Instantly battering West around the head with a clubbing forearm, Liston hauls Coy off the canvas and tosses across the ring into the ropes. Lowering his center of gravity, Jimmy easily pulls his stunned opponent off the mat and jams him into the mat with a hard sidewalk slam! “What did I tell you,” questions Bobby Riley. “Jimmy Liston is strong enough to take on four rednecks at a time… in the woods… even if they had banjos!” Rolling off his stunned opponent, Liston looks out to the crowd with his red eyes and glowers menacingly out at just about anyone that will meet his glare. Leaving Coy right there where he left him on the canvas, The Demon steps out to the apron and starts the long climb up to the very top turnbuckle. Hoping to hit something hard enough to net him a win in the opening seconds of the contest though proves to be a mistake as Coy West has already made his way up to the his feet. Charging up to his foe, Coy puckers Liston in the chest with a hard right hand. Losing his balance, Liston drops strait down onto the top turnbuckle and stuns himself in the process. Not one to let a good opportunity go to waste, West immediately climbs up after Liston and hooks him around the head. “Sweet Zombie Jesus,” notes The Cyclone Comet, “these guys aren’t holding anything back at all! They’re bringing their hardest hitting offensive maneuvers to bear right here and right now!” Indeed comet is right as Coy reaches around the stunned Liston’s body and grabs a handful of black pants while standing tall on the middle turnbuckle. Jerking Liston off the buckle, Coy falls back into the center of the ring and crushes Jimmy into the mat with an awe-inspiring superplex from WAYYYYY downtown! Hitting the suplex high on his own shoulders, Coy easily floats over the top and hooks everything that he can in order to get this match over in the first two minutes! ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THRENOWHATYOUEXPECTEDITTOENDTHATFAST! Kicking out despite the incredible shock to his senses, Liston gets out from underneath his foe in order to keep this match up moving along for the time being. But for now, Jimmy has to think defensively as Coy has grabbed a big handful of advantage with just that one suplex. Pulling ‘The Demon’ up to his feet, West strikes hard with a looping right hook that catches Liston right underneath the jaw. Stunned by the punch as well as that monstrous superplex, Liston proves to have no resistance as Coy plucks him up and off the canvas with a very low bear hug. But that is only applied for a moment before West jams ‘The Demon’ down across his knee with a reverse atomic drop! Shattered by the move, Liston hops about the ring for a moment in a very undignified manner for a demon as Coy ranges his way into the ropes for a little extra added momentum! WHAM! Leaping into the air as he gets within range, Coy catches Liston right across the throat with a cutting lariat that ends up sending both men down to the canvas with West on top of his battered foe. Hopping back onto his feet with a war whoop, Coy looks out to the crowd with a crooked smile as the people in the arena cheer on with warm feelings for just about everyone not named Jimmy Liston. “WILD WEST! WILD WEST! WILD WEST!” Feeling the crowd behind him, Coy grabs Jimmy by the arm and tosses him across the ring with an Irish whip. Crashing into the turnbuckle with the top of his back, Liston hangs on the ropes as West comes charging in with as much steam behind him as possible. But all that steam works against Coy as he runs full on into a knee that knocks West backward and into the center of the ring in a cloudy haze. But why worry about a haze when full out agony will do? That’s Jimmy Liston’s motto and he brings all of that rage with him when he goes on the hunt. BOOOOOM! Rushing out of the corner, Liston grabs Coy around the waist and snatches him off the ground. Then carrying West all the way across the ring, Liston crushes ‘The Coyote’ into the turnbuckles with as much power behind it as he can bring to bear. Shaking out his head after absorbing the previous amount of punishment that he took in the opening portions of the match, Liston is slow to take advantage of his rage. But Coy is in simply no shape to make any sort of move as The Demon takes his time before moving in to press his advantage. Driving a kick right into Coy’s midsection, Liston further works to stun his opponent before pulling him towards the center of the ring and pulling West up onto his shoulders. Stepping around the ring to prove that Coy’s 240 pounds will be absolutely no trouble for him to manipulate, Liston shows off his power before finally driving West down across his knee with a backbreaker. “God that’s impressive,” remarks Bobby Riley as Liston plucks West off his knee and pulls him back up to chest height. “All that power in such a tight little package just makes me want to… WOAH!” Falling backward to the canvas, Liston interrupts Riley’s disturbing imagery by chucking Coy over his head with an amazing fall away slam that causes everyone in the arena to stand up and take notice once and for all of the amazing power of The Demon. Sitting up on the canvas, Liston looks at Kivell with the red eyes of the devil before turning over and crawling across Coy in order to make a loose lateral press. ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREOOOHNONOTTHREE! Squirting out from underneath the lateral press, Coy keeps the match going strong as Liston simply shakes his head as if to ask just how much more punishment West wants to take yet here tonight. Pulling the aching West off the mat by the back of the jeans, Liston stands behind his opponent and starts to use his head as a battering ram in order to smash away at his opponent’s lower lumbar region with a number of hard headbutts. After three such heavy blows to the spine, ‘The Coyote’ drops down to his knees while all the time keeping a hand on the base of his spine in order to try and dull the pain put there by Liston. Grabbing Coy off the canvas though it is obvious that Liston has a whole lot more punishment ready and waiting for his game opponent. “Liston has now picked out a body part,” reports The Cyclone Comet. “And you know as well as I do that he will continue to go after that body part for as long as he can before trying to end this match either with a high impact move to the spine or some sort of submission.” Using his strength advantage yet again, Liston grabs West by the arm and uses it to sling West across the ring with as much power as he can muster. Actually dropping to his knees in order to get as much energy behind the whip as possible, Liston sends Coy crashing into the opposite turnbuckle so hard that West comes falling out of the buckle almost immediately and falling down onto his face in the process. Rolling out away from the buckle, Coy ends up near the center of the ring on his chest as Liston simply stalks his foe with all the passion of a belt sander. Taking up an angle of attack, Liston puts his hands out to his sides before simply dropping forward and using his head to smash Coy right in the base of the spine once again in the style of former NWA World Champion Harley Race. Shaking out his own head from the impact, Liston has no problems getting his game back together and getting back up to his feet. Hooking Coy around the head, Liston hauls West up to his feet before slowing and strongly taking West up and over and smashing him into the canvas with a vertical suplex. “Slow and steady! Slow and steady!” coaches Bobby Riley from his seat at the announce booth. “Liston ended up paying for that chance he took at the beginning of this match and has slowed down this match considerably since then. He is going to grind that redneck piece of garbage into paste.” Once again pulling West off the mat by the back of his blue jeans, Liston once again uses the headbutt to the back in order to soften up the rampaging redneck. Ducking underneath his opponent, Liston lowers his center of gravity before rising up and capturing Coy in a torture rack backbreaker! Reaching out to cover all of Coy’s lanky body, Jimmy applies pressure to every inch of West’s back and he hops up and down with the backbreaker. Bending his opponent’s back down across his shoulders, Liston glowers out to the crowd as he holds Coy like a trophy buck up in the air. But carrying 240 pounds around in the air simply isn’t easy especially when West is trying to escape from the predicament. Reaching around Liston’s head with his free right arm, Coy struggles to find a handhold as he continues to try and keep himself conscious despite the rain of pain in his spine. But finally West finds a place to grab a hold of that will get him loose from the torture rack as he jams the point of his fingers into the Satanically red eyes of his foe! Screaming out in pain, Liston almost instinctively lets Coy’s legs loose enough to Coy to swing his body around his foe and drive him into the canvas with a stunning bulldog headlock! BOOOOOOM! Trying to sneak one out, Coy instantly pushes Liston over onto his back and hooks the far leg as Kivell scrambles into position to count… ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREITHOUGHTHEHADHIMBUTNO!” Comet says, “West needed to win right then and there! He simply doesn’t have the strength still in him to mount a major offensive and Jimmy Liston is just going to keep crushing his spine time and again until this match is over.” “For once we agree,” calls out Bobby Riley. “The Demon has this match wrapped up so tightly that he could have put it under the tree in December. West is going to have to pull out a miracle in order to steal this one away.” Knowing that just as well as anyone else, West almost immediately locks Liston in a front facelock as both men get up to their feet. Pulling Jimmy over to the ropes, West hooks him up for what seems to be the slingshot suplex that put away Todd Royal last Thursday. But even as West tries to pull Jimmy off the canvas, it is obvious that his back will not even allow him to get up 230 pounds at this time. Releasing the front facelock as Liston’s feet touch the mat again, Coy wanders in a circle with a hand on his convulsing back until The Demon ends his little jig with a stunning headbutt to the face. Grabbing his own head from the impact of the strike, Jimmy leans backward into the ropes as West simply stays on the canvas in the hopes that keeping strait will keep the spasms he know feels a little bit under control. But nothing he seems to do keeps the pain under control as Coy tries to crawl across the ring and gain a little bit of separation from his aggressive opponent. But nothing can seemingly stop The Demon as he callously steps on Coy’s back and presses down with all of his weight as West screams out in continuous pain. Stepping back for a bit of distance, Liston once again drops a headbutt down into the small of West’s back before climbing up to back up to his feet. Giving a minor gesture to the crowd as though this match is just about over, Liston plucks West off the canvas and hurriedly pulls him up to his shoulder. But Coy kicks wildly with his legs and soon finds his body sliding down off Liston’s shoulder in order to avoid what seemed to be a sure powerslam or shoulderbreaker. Turning to see where his prey might have gone, Liston finds just one thing waiting for him. BOOM! One hard right hand! Barely keeping himself upright, Coy keeps one hand on his back and another one moving as it once again rocks Jimmy’s jaw with another hard right hook! BOOM! Not knowing just how much more of this he can take, West just simply starts to pepper the top of Liston’s head with punch after punch after punch. Until the force of the barrage causes The Demon to simply start to tumble backward until the turnbuckle is just about the only thing keeping him from falling to the canvas. But still ‘The Coyote’ will not stop punching because he knows that if he stops he might not be able to start up yet again. “Stop it Coy!” shouts the referee as West finally punches himself out on the head of Jimmy Liston. Heading the words of the official, Coy leaves Liston punch drunk in the corner as West struggles to keep his spine in one piece. Leaning face-first against the top rope, West arches his own back in pain knowing that every second he gives Liston will be another second towards shrugging off all those punches. Forcing his body on, Coy lurches across the ring and… WHAM! Is crushed against the canvas by the throat! “Oh such is the torment of The Demon!” laughs Bobby Riley as Jimmy throttles West in response for all those punches. “West simply does not have the strength in his body to knock Liston around anymore. Liston has done a tremendous job of cutting his foe off time and again and know we has that muskrat of a man ripe for the plucking.” Releasing West’s windpipe from his icy hand, The Demon rises up and once again cuts his own throat to signify that Coy is all but through. Grabbing West by the handles of his tank top, Liston manages to pull the hunched over redneck up to his feet. Turning into West once again, Jimmy hauls his opponent up and onto his shoulder and begins to walk about the ring with a much firmer grip on his opponent than the last time. Walking over to a turnbuckle with West up on his shoulder, Liston gets a running start before crushing his foe against the canvas with a resounding running powerslam! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Comet says, “That’s it, it’s over. Wait, he’s not making the cover?” “Oh Liston wants to make an example! He wants to make the world know that The Demon is risen! Praise the Demon or be destroyed!” Leaving West flat on the canvas Liston casually nudges his opponent over onto his back with a toe of his boot. Slowly moving his way out to the apron once again, Liston slowly makes his way up tot he top rope for the second time in this contest. But this time, Coy West is not going to be able to spring up to his feet and hit something as massive as a superplex. As a matter of fact, West is not moving at all. Finally up on the top rope, Liston knows that his time is now. And the time is set. And it is time to drop… THE DIVING DEMON HEADBUTT! MISSES! Rolling out of the way at the last instant, West squirts out of the way just in time to avoid the Demon’s onslaught. The Demon who spent that same instant smashing his own face into the canvas from ten feet in the air, Liston is so shocked from the impact that he virtually is knocked right up to his feet! Pawing at his own head, Liston stumbles backward and right into the waiting arms of a Coy West schoolboy rollup! ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THRENOKICKOUTATTWO! Just barely pushing coy off at the count of two, Liston shakily rises up to his feet and looks about in confusion for just a moment before he finds that his legs have been swept out from underneath him! Quickly as he can, West rolls over the top of his opponent with a rolling jackknife! ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THRENONONONONONONONO! Just barely managing to kick loose with his legs once again; Liston fights his way free from the cover! Almost up on his feet at the same moment as his opponent, Jimmy knees Coy in the chest and looks to drop him into the canvas once again with the powerslam. But the moment West feels Liston’s arms around his body; Coy rolls backward to the mat with the small package! ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! “HE GOT HIM! HE GOT HIM!” DING! DING! DING! Rolling out of the ring instantly, Coy leaves his stunned opponent sitting in the middle of the ring as Funyon calls into his microphone, “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match and the new number one contender to the USJL Championship, COYYYYYYYYYYY WESSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!” Bobby grumbles, “Well, the hick pulled that out of his ass.” “You would know all about that,” remarks The Cyclone Comet. “But Coy West did what neither one of us thought he could. That series of roll ups finally managed to catch Liston off guard so much that he couldn’t kick out of the last one. But it all started when Jimmy missed that tremendous top rope headbutt.” “And now West has a chance at being a champion. What a disgrace.” “Disgrace or not,” notes The Cyclone Comet, “Coy won and Liston lost. And considering what bad shape West was in that match, I have to wonder if anyone can truly ever think they have ‘The Coyote’ beaten. We’ll be back right after this.”

As we return Ben Hardy is standing backstage, microphone in hand, and next to him is the spiky-haired figure of an exhausted looking Toxxic, leaning on a wall. The rookie is still breathing heavily and appears to be in some pain, but the faint hint of a lopsided grin shows on his face. “So, Toxxic,” Hardy begins. “How are you feeling after that brutal Falls Count Anywhere match?” “How do I feel?” Toxxic responds, rounding on Hardy and his grin disappearing. “I feel like I’d rather not ever do anything like that again! I feel like a man who just went through a table from 15 feet up, and don’t let the fact that it was me doing the move fool you into thinking that won’t hurt!” Calming down a little the rookie steps back and the grin returns. “But... I won. And that feels good, Ben. It don’t matter that I was just booked in the most brutal match of my career so far, and it don’t matter that I was in that match with a Grade-A nutter in the shape of Manson, and one of the wiliest veterans this company has in the shape of Mike Van Siclen. What matters is that I came out on top. I’m not the toughest in this company, but I wasn’t the one going through tables, or taking Mindbenders or Van Slaminators onto concrete. I was the one who just put Mike Van Siclen through a bloody table with a Toxxic Shock Syndrome!” Toxxic places one fist inside the other and squeezes, his knuckles cracking and making Ben Hardy jump. “What it boils down to Ben is that despite all that, despite the fact that I won, that match hurt. And if I could get through my career without doing anything as crazy again, I’d have no complaints. But that’s not how this business works. And if Commissioner Stevens rings me up tomorrow and says ‘Hey Toxxic, Dace Night can’t make it for his title match and Va’aiga wants some Lariat practice’ - I’d be there. If he calls and says ‘Hey Toxxic - Va’aiga can’t make it for his title defence and Dace Night wants someone to throw into C4’ - I’d be there. If he calls and says ‘Hey Toxxic, I want you to take on the Unnamed in an Iron Man handicap match with barbed wire for ropes while the fans pelt you with beer bottles’, I’d bloody well be there Ben, because THIS IS WHAT I DO. And if anyone thinks that I’m not going to make a bloody impact in this company - then they’d better prepare to be proved wrong.” Ben Hardy can only nod as Toxxic turns and, limping slightly, makes his way off down the corridor, cracking his neck from side to side.

The arena plunges into darkness, only relieved by multi-coloured strobes. Prong’s “Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck” hits over the PA system and the fans react by booing as Manson comes out of the entranceway. Raising one fist above his head he strides down the ramp, eyes fixed on the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall and is A FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE, TRIPLE THREAT MATCH!” Funyon booms as the fans gleefully anticipate the action about to unfold. “Introducing first, from Denver, Colorado, he weighs in at 240lbs... MAAANNNSON!!!” “Look at that man Comet,” Riley demands as Manson settles in a corner of the ring, waiting for his opponents. “Focused, determined...” “Hairy,” Comet interjects. “Not everywhere.” “I don’t want to know!” the superhero protests. “Look at his head, Comet! He’s bald!” Even as the SWF announce team bicker over Manson’s folical tendencies the melodic opening notes of Andrew W.K.’s “Ready To Die” ring out in the arena to a crowd pop. BOOM! BOOM! BOOOOOOM! Three blasts of white pyro go off and Mike Van Siclen emerges from behind the curtain, grinning as he makes his way to the ring and slapping hands with some of the fans who line the entrance way. “And his opponents;” Funyon’s voice fills the Bryce Jordan Center again, “First, from Harrison, Illinois, weighing in at 23lbs, “The Spectacle”, MIIIIIKE... VAAAAN... SICLEN!!!” “This match is Van Siclen’s first regular match since his loss to Tom Flesher on the Smarkdown preceding the Clusterfudge,” Comet notes, “and the veteran has got to be looking to make an impact here.” “There’s no way you can call this a regular match!” argues Riley. “It’s a Falls Count Anywhere with three men involved! All rules are going to go out the window, there will be no alliances, and- what are Manson and Van Siclen doing?” Sure enough, in the ring the long-haired Van Siclen is talking to the stockier Manson, pointing back towards the entranceway. As the music changes for the third and final time, the words “Prepare To Be Proved Wrong” flash up onto the Smarktron and Lostprophets’ “We Still Kill The Old Way” blasts out from the speakers a horrible suspicion crystallises in Comet’s mind... “Robert, I do believe Manson and Van Siclen intend to ambush the rookie and take him out of the game early on!” “You know, for once Comet I do believe you’re right!” laughs Riley as the straight-edger’s pyro goes off and Manson and Van Siclen stare side-by-side over the top rope. “These two sly dogs are going to make sure that their odds of winning go up by a good 17%, and it’s excellent strategy!” However Riley speaks too soon as the crowd pop louder still, not for the entrance of Toxxic through the smoke of his pyro, but because the rookie has emerged from the crowd and slid quietly into the ring behind his two opponents... carrying a ladder! “No! Manson, turn around! Turn around!” Riley screams, but the bearded grappler can’t hear him. He does however hear when Toxxic sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles: WHEEE-EEEEP!!! Both men whip around at the unexpected sound, only to see a ladder flying horizontally for their heads! Reacting quickly both men catch it before impact - but Toxxic takes a quick two-step run-up and launches into the air, extending both feet to hit a rung with a flying dropkick! Balanced as they are against the ropes the impact sends both men tumbling over the top! “Manson and Van Siclen just got ladder-kicked out of the ring!” exclaims a delighted Cyclone Comet as Manson and MVS land hard outside with the ladder atop them. “That, Robert, is true justice as the treacherous devils got what they deserved, although to be honest I’d expect more of Citizen Van Siclen.” “That’s cheating!” is an apoplectic Riley’s only response. “I don’t care if there are no rules, Toxxic should have come out and got his backside whipped rather than jumping them from behind!” *DING! DING!* Taking one look at his fallen adversaries Toxxic backs off towards the far ropes, then as MVS and Manson start to get to their feet the rookie charges across the ring, looking to fly over the top rope - but Van Siclen and Manson move! However Toxxic catches himself at the last moment, balances on the top rope and backflips into the ring before looking at an imaginary watch... stroking his chin and pointing into the middle distance... and placing both hands on his hips and giving the fans a cheesy grin! “CATALOGUE POSES~!” shouts Comet. “Toxxic playing to the fans here on the Penn State University Campus.” “And about to receive sweet punishment!” Bobby Riley yells. As Toxxic turns away from the particular section of crowd he’s been looking at Manson and Van Siclen slide back into the ring from opposite sides and proceed to charge at the overconfident rookie. Manson levels him with a running back elbow, and Van Siclen takes the opportunity to bury some boots in his midsection. Manson then picks the Brit up, hoists him high into the air... and spinebusters him down WITH AUTHORITY! Before the rookie has even stopped bouncing Van Siclen hauls him to his feet again, crosses Toxxic’s arms over his own face and then drops him down with the Red Light! “STOP!” PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE “Continue!” screams Van Siclen, but even as the syllables leave his throat Manson breaks the momentary truce between the two more experienced grapplers by levelling him with a Yakuza kick, to the disapproval of the fans in attendance. Seeing his opportunity Manson dives onto the prone form of Toxxic, looking to end this thing early... ONE! TWO! TH-kickout! With irritation showing in his dark eyes Manson hauls Toxxic to his feet, only to bend the rookie double, hoist him high into the air and powerbomb him back down to the mat! “Manson really breaking out the power moves here,” Comet calls from the commentary position as Manson goes down to cover Toxxic again. “And this flurry of offence could be enough to win it early!” ONE! TWO! THRE- Broken up by Van Siclen with a boot to the head! Manson starts to rise to his feet, one hand clutching at his head where Van Siclen’s boot made contact, but the Spectacle gives his opponent no time to recover by hooking him and taking him down again with a vicious swinging neckbreaker. Maintaining his grip around Manson’s neck Van Siclen rolls to his feet again, this time taking the Colorado native over with a snap suplex. Now firmly in control of his opponent Van Siclen again pulls him up, positions himself behind Manson, pauses to acknowledge the Penn State fans... and drives Manson’s neck back and down into his knee! “Crossface Black!” Riley screams as Manson writhes in pain, clutching his neck. “That move should be outlawed Comet! Manson might not have proper use of his neck for weeks now!” “I don’t like to think why that might bother you,” Comet responds, “but now it’s Citizen Van Siclen’s turn to attempt an early pinfall!” ONE! TWO! THR-kickout! “It’s gonna take more than that to keep Manson down,” Riley breathes, relieved, “but someone needs to do something about this!” “And that someone appears to be Mike Van Siclen, Robert, as he’s breaking off his offence to leave the ring for some reason...” Van Siclen slides under the bottom rope and strides over to the timekeeper’s position. Uttering a terse “Move!” he shoves the SWF official aside, picks up a steel chair and, to Bobby Riley’s audible dismay, heads back towards the ring. “There are no rules!” Comet shouts over Riley’s wails of protest. “And Van Siclen is well within his rights to bring a weapon into play, even one as unforgiving as that steel chair. I must say I’d prefer to see Citizen Van Siclen use his great wrestling skills to win this match, but he hasn’t built up his reputation of being a ring general by failing to make use of whatever chances fall his way.” Van Siclen seems prepared to create his own chances and readies himself in a manner reminiscent of a baseball batter as Manson finally staggers to his feet once more... CRACK! ...and brings the steel chair down HARD on Manson’s bald pate! As the bearded man crashes back to the mat Van Siclen raises the chair in salute to the fans, who in typical bloodthirsty fashion are making some noise for the first man to bring the Hardcore! “M-V-S!” “M-V-S!” “M-V-S!” Responding to the fans with “That’s what I said!”, Van Siclen again turns towards Manson and seems unable to believe his eyes as the former J-Leaguer is struggling to his feet once more, battered but as yet unbowed. With a shrug Van Siclen rams the chair into Manson’s gut, drops it on the mat beneath him, snares his opponent in a front facelock and brings his arm crashing round to send Manson back down again with the CODE RED ONTO A CHAIR! “Dear God!” exclaims a shaken Cyclone Comet. “Mike Van Siclen is wasting no time in trying to put Manson away here, eh Robert? Robert, adopting a foetal position and whimpering won’t help Manson...” Rolling the now-bleeding Manson onto his back Van Siclen sprawls across him for the pin... ONE! TWO! THR-kickout! Shock is written across the face of Mike Van Siclen as Manson’s left shoulder clears the canvas to stop the count! Deciding that maybe his casual cover was the cause of this misfortune Van Siclen hooks the far leg and rolls into his pin this time, attempting to put all of his 231lbs squarely onto the bearded wrestler’s shoulders... ONE! TWO! THRE-kickout! Once more Manson manages to lift a shoulder clear of the mat, and this time Van Siclen is clearly frustrated by his opponent’s refusal to quit. Muttering to himself the Spectacle again breaks off his attack to go to the outside, but instead of garnering another weapon he heads straight for the Spanish announce table. Clearing it of debris and monitors he throws a glance back at Manson, who is on all fours but doesn’t look capable of mounting a comeback anytime soon. Seizing Manson’s leg Van Siclen drags him to the outside, fires off a couple of rights to keep the momentum in his favour and drapes the Colorado native’s body across the prepared desk as the Spanish announcers scatter in anticipation of what comes next. “If he puts Manson through that table he’ll be finished!” cries Bobby Riley. “Stop the match, ref!” “And since this IS Falls Count Anywhere, the moment Manson goes through the table Van Siclen can pin him, without needing to bother about returning to the ring!” Comet responds. “He knows what he’s doing - hang on a second...” Hearing the crowd popping despite the fact that he’s done nothing spectacular in the last five seconds Van Siclen turns back towards the ring - and gets flattened by a 218lb human missile, as Toxxic returns to the match by hitting a suicide dive over the top rope! “Thank you Toxxic! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Bobby Riley raves as the straight-edger pushes himself to his feet, staggering in a circle and waving at the fans. “I knew you weren’t so bad after all! I knew you’d save Manson- what’s he doing, Comet? WHAT’S HE DOING NOW!?” Catching sight of Manson still draped over the Spanish announce table Toxxic’s lopsided grin widens, and the rookie glances upwards at the ring ropes. As the crowd pops once more he vaults up to the apron, then to the top rope, sailing backwards in a picture-perfect Springboard Moonsault that brings him down on Manson’s stocky frame... CRUNCH!! “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “Springboard moonsault onto Manson, and the match could be Toxxic’s now!” Comet yells as Riley covers his eyes and whimpers. “After the beating Manson took at the hands of Van Siclen he might well stay down - but it’s Van Siclen’s who covers!” As Toxxic rolls on the arena floor clutching his ribs after the impact Van Siclen recovers enough to hook Manson’s leg in the wreckage of the table and force Nick Soapdish into an awkward position to count... ONE! TWO! THREE- broken up by Toxxic! “Van Siclen was within a whisker of winning!” Comet calls, alliterating with no concern for the danger. “And now the veteran and the rookie are exchanging blows here in front of us!” Blocking a right hand from Toxxic Van Siclen goes on the offensive, peppering his adversary with rights of his own before taking a step back and launching spinning wheelkick at the rookie’s head. Toxxic ducks, and as Van Siclen staggers, thrown off by his own momentum, the Brit fires back with a right - a left - a right - a left - he winds up like a pitcher and spins round to deliver the Discus Clothesline... but he spins too far as Van Siclen ducks in his turn! As Toxxic’s momentum carries him round the Spectacle wastes no time in grasping his waist from behind and delivering a devastating backdrop! Finally with time to assess the situation Van Siclen glances at Manson - still down, but starting to move - and then at Toxxic, holding his head on the arena floor. Figuring that it can’t hurt Van Siclen rolls into another cover... ONE! TWO! THREE-kickout! Looking up at referee Soapdish with a “Well, it was worth a try” expression Van Siclen grabs Toxxic by the hair and brings the rookie painfully to his feet. Looking around for inspiration he sights the unforgiving guardrail that surrounds the ring, and taking hold of Toxxic’s arm he Irish whips the rookie straight at it. Just as Toxxic reaches the rail, however, the Brit makes a jump to the top of the guard rail itself, then leaps back at Van Siclen and take him down with a clothesline! “Role Reversal!” Comet calls. “Toxxic hits a timely counter there, but Van Siclen has had the majority of the offence in this match so far, and he’s regaining his feet as well-” “And here comes Manson!” screams Bobby Riley, as the bleeding man from Denver launches back into the fray, taking down both Toxxic and Van Siclen with a double clothesline. “This is true justice, Comet!” Manson raises his head to the rafters and unleashes a roar of anger as both his opponents start to regain their footing, shaking their heads in a futile effort to clear them, but it’s now the former J-Leaguer’s match as he seizes Toxxic by the scruff of the neck and the waist of his pants and sends the rookie smashing headfirst into the steel ring steps! CRASH!! With one adversary temporarily out of the way Manson focuses his rage on the Spectacle, unleashing vicious knife-edge chops on Van Siclen’s torso with the fans “Whoo!”-ing along before burying a knee deep into his opponent’s stomach. The very same guardrail that Toxxic vaulted off moments ago catches Manson’s eye and he launches Van Siclen at it, and this time the intended result is achieved as Van Siclen arrives back first! SMASH!! Without a moment’s hesitation Manson presses his advantage, slamming Van Siclen’s head into the rail. Partly from the impact and partly from a half-conscious desire to escape his persecutor Van Siclen’s body slides over the guardrail and into the crowd, and with a backwards glance at the form of Toxxic Manson follows. “Both these men are usually quite happy to keep their action in the ring,” Comet says as Manson grabs Van Siclen by the hair and takes him deeper into the crowd, “but Manson seems to have the edge in the hardcore situation we’re seeing now, and by taking the match further away from Toxxic there is less chance that he will be able to arrive in time to break up a pin.” “Let this be a lesson to all those who think that Manson is stupid or single-minded,” agrees a now far calmer Bobby Riley. “The man deserves respect not only for his ability to take punishment and dish it out, but also his brains too. In this environment I confidently predict that even the Spectacle Mike Van Siclen won’t last long!” Riley’s prediction appears to be being borne out as Manson keeps up the assault on a dazed Van Siclen, pummelling the taller man with brutal right hands and vicious chops as they head towards one of the access doors that leads into the backstage area, the crowd parting as the brawl comes through. Winding up against a wall Van Siclen fires off a kick to Manson’s midsection, but it only staggers the bearded wrestler for a moment. With a faint gleam of hope in his eyes Van Siclen tries it again - only to have his leg caught by a suddenly grinning former Hate Machine! As Van Siclen desperately tries to maintain his balance Manson draws back his own leg... CHING!! ...and fires his foot straight into Mike Van Siclen’s happysack! As the Spectacle’s eyes bulge Manson hooks him in a front facelock, throws Van Siclen’s arm over his neck and hoists him in the air for what appears to be a vertical suplex - but then the man from Denver brings Van Siclen back down the same way and sits out, delivering the devastating front suplex known as the Mindbender ON THE CONCRETE! Rolling Van Siclen onto his back, Manson hooks the leg as Nick Soapdish scrambles to get into position... ONE! TWO! THREEEE- Broken up by a table!? “And Toxxic announces his return to the match again, this time by breaking up Manson’s pin with a table!” Comet calls. “The rookie found that under the ring and it just had the reach necessary for him to break the pin as he charged up there!” “The guy’s a moron,” Riley opines. “If he hadn’t have been carrying the table, he could have run faster! And what’s wrong with a chair?” Riley’s question is answered as Toxxic continues to ram the table into Manson, driving the former Hate Machine backwards. At the third attack however Manson grabs the table end intended for his midsection, and as the rookie struggles to free his weapon Manson reverses, sending the wood slamming into Toxxic’s ribs instead. As the Brit releases his hold and doubles over wheezing for breath Manson raises the table high above his head and brings it down hard! CRACK!! The table survives the impact but Toxxic’s skull is not so lucky, the combination of momentum and Manson’s strength buckling the straight-edger’s knees and sending him crumpling to the floor. With a grunt of satisfaction Manson drops the table and turns back to his unfinished business with Van Siclen, only to find his legs gripped and hoisted into the air! Struggling to keep Manson positioned correctly, his chest resting head downwards against the Spectacle’s spine, a momentarily rejuvenated Van Siclen smiles grimly at the thought of payback for Manson’s earlier ballshot... AND SITS OUT, DROPPING MANSON RIGHT ON HIS FUCKING HEAD!!! “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “Van Slaminator on the concrete!” Comet gasps, as Riley’s wails reach an inhuman volume. “Surely... SURELY not even Manson can get up from that!” ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEEE- broken up by Toxxic! Brains still scrambled from the table shot Toxxic JUST managed to land a baseball slide dropkick onto MVS, causing the pin to be broken. However it doesn’t slow Van Siclen as he regains his feet, clamps his hands around the rookie’s skull and sits out once more, this time delivering a vicious jawbreaker! With Toxxic on the ground clutching his face Van Siclen almost casually grabs one leg in each hand and wrenches them apart. “Make a wish!” Comet yells as Toxxic clutches his groin. “Citizen Van Siclen is really stepping up his game here, but in the process he’s showing a complete disregard for human wellbeing! I have the utmost respect for Commissioner Stevens, but I think this match may have been a mistake! Toxxic is surely not ready for this environment and it was unlikely that this match could have passed without some major injury - and it looks to have been Manson who was the unlucky one!” “Damn Mark Stevens, Comet!” Riley whispers. “Damn him! What’s Van Siclen doing now?” With one opponent writhing in pain and the other apparently out of it, Van Siclen looks down at the table. Reaching a decision the veteran picks up the item of foldable furniture and begins to set the legs. When the table is stable the man from Illinois grabs the virtual-deadweight of Manson and hauls him upright before loading him onto the second table of the evening! As soon as he is happy with his victim’s position Van Siclen sets off - up the steps towards the tiered crowd seating! The crowd starts to buzz in anticipation as Van Siclen, a man not normally known for his high-risk offence, starts to gain height. Unnoticed by Van Siclen, however, Toxxic is following him, the pains in his jaw and his groin driving the Straight-Edger after the Spectacle as Manson lays unmoving on the table. Reaching his goal Van Siclen starts to edge out OVER the door to the backstage area! Balanced on the narrow ledge between the guardrail and the entrance well beneath him Van he looks down at Manson’s form, looks around at the crowd and raises a hand shaped like a gun to his temple! “SICLEN’S GAMBIT!” screams Comet. “Van Siclen is going to attempt a Shooting Star Frog Splash from up there onto Manson, and through a table!” “That’ll end the match for sure,” Riley replies, now apparently so wound up he’s gone out the other side of hysterical. “Goodbye, Manson.” Van Siclen takes a deep breath, prepares to jump... but two arms lock a sleeper hold around his head! Toxxic caught up with Van Siclen just in time, and realising that there was no way he could make it back down in time to break up a pin if Van Siclen pulled the move off he desperately grabbed the Spectacle in an attempt to stop him. Van Siclen struggles, but his movements are limited by the drop in front of him which counteracts the relatively unscientific application of the move by the rookie. Finally coming to his senses, Manson looks up at the struggle taking place above him and rolls off the table as fast as he can. Realising that it is now him who is in the wrong place to affect a decision Manson makes unsteadily for the steps and starts to climb, foot by painful foot, towards the competitors above. Van Siclen weakens, and Toxxic releases the hold, attempting to push his opponent off the edge and through the table... but Van Siclen holds on! Desperately, eyeing the approaching Manson, Toxxic edges round the other end of the guardrail and approaches the woozy Van Siclen. With both men perched precariously on the edge of disaster the crowd hushes. Van Siclen aims a punch, but Toxxic rears back and the swing almost carries Van Siclen over... but not quite. Toxxic fires off a kick, and this hits home to the midsection of the Spectacle, doubling him over! Taking a deep breath Toxxic reaches forward and hooks both of Van Siclen’s arms... as the crowd roars into life Toxxic steps OFF the ledge, pulling Van Siclen with him, and they drop down... down... DOWN... KERRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHH!!!! “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “TOXXIC SHOCK SYNDROME THROUGH A TABLE!” Comet screams. ONE!!!! TWO!!!!!!! THRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! *DING! DING!* “Here is your winner,” Funyon booms, trying to make himself heard above the music, chants and cheers, “TOOOOOOOOXXXXXXXXIIIIIIIC!”. The camera zooms in on the rookie who doesn’t look much like a winner as he rolls off the broken body of Mike Van Siclen, as we... FADE OUT

Card: Falls Count Anywhere Match Toxxic v. Manson v. Mike Van Siclen So far, the Commissioner has been impressed with Toxxic's heart and skills, but he needs to know if the kid has what it takes to push through pain and adversity to make it in the dog-eat-dog world of the SWF. Thus, a brutal match with a brutal opponent and a wily veteran. Singles Match for the #1 Contendership to the SWF United States / Junior League Championship "Coyote" Coy West v. Jimmy "The Demon" Liston Two up and comers in the SWF get a shot to go after the gold at From the Fire. Nothing more, nothing less. Hey, every match doesn't have to have three paragraphs of explaination. Tag Team Match for the #1 Contendership to the SWF Tag Team Championship "The House of Todd" (Todd Royal & Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix) v. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins & Jacob Helmsley Special Guest Commentator: "The Barracuda" Johnny Dangerous Four newly arrived JLers will set out to prove that they have what it takes to be the next Tag Team Champions and earn their place in the honor roll of SWF Champions. Singles Match for the SWF United States / Junior Leage Championship Sacred © v. Insane Luchador One of the longest serving JLers gets a shot at SWF gold once again. And this time he faces off against one of the greatest champions in Wrestling History, the man himself, Sacred. But the Sacred One went to the wire against Spike Jenkins just a few short days ago on Lockdown. Will he hold off the JL legend or will IL start a new legend tonight? Singles Match for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship WildChild © v. Alan Clark Alan Clark won a hard-fought match against the bright new start Toxxic to earn this match, meanwhile, on the same show, WildChild held on to his shiny new title belt in a four-star match against Landon Maddix. As promised, this match happens on Smarkdown!! Singles Match for the Intercontinental-Television Championship Charlie "Grappler" Matthews © v. Annie "Ichiban" Onita On Lockdown, The Grappler appeared to have turned over a new leaf. But the Commish has seen this before and is wary of the recently-booted Unnamed member. So tonight he is giving him a chance to prove himself. But Annie is no token opponent. The Hardcore Legend made her triumphant return to the SWF by pinning the World Champion in a non-title match on Lockdown and is looking to get some SWF gold back around her waist, so the Commissioner is giving the last active Carnie the chance. Main Event Barbed Wire Cell Timebomb Deathmatch for the SmartMarks Wrestling Federation World Heavyweight Championship Va'aiga © v. Dace Night Va'aiga dropped the leader of the Unholy Trinity on his noggin for daring to think he could keep the Maori Badass from the World Title. Dace Night, the new leader of the Trinity, has revenge on his mind. They have decided to settle this in a most unorthodox and dangerous match. The Commissioner has clear misgivings about letting this match happen, but it is going to happen. May God have mercy on them...

Well, Thugg, it's just in violation of Foley's Law: Any kind of amnesia angle is doomed to suck. -Z

No, I've still got lots of stuff missing. Don't worry, this isn't about the show going up. This is just a request to everyone who needs something for Storm. I know I was told about five different things over the course of the week, but I've forgotten all but one of them (since I got PMed about it). So, uh, if you want the show off/want a specific booking, now's the time to remind me. -Z

Tom already did. Uh, that IS pretty ridiculous, no matter how you look at it. Didn't that also lead to amnesia from Xstasy where he couldn't remember Thugg ever beating the hell out of him and suddenly spoke in ebonics for no good reason, only to have King (playing Yojimbo) finally succeed in setting the two against each other so he could successfully defeat Thugg for the world title? A few more that occured to me: -That one promo Spider wrote where he killed one of the Clan's mysterious corporate benefactors. With an ash tray. -The entire IGNWO debacle. Jayson sells the company to a mysterious Japanese business man who represents the most generically named company imaginable ('The Firm'), and reveals that he secretely intends to give certain wrestlers carte blanche muahahahahahaha. Their stable gets named even MORE unoriginally than The Firm, Merc and Spike make nonsensical heel turns, and... the entire thing sucks because none of them are good enough to get to the world title and the Midnight Carnival whoops them repeatedly. -Edwin's completely ineffectual heel turn where he becomes eeeeeeeeevil and joins Jayson's corporation out of the jealousy of seeing the King of Hearts, Spark and some other people get bumped out of the ML. Except, y'know, he acts exactly like the charismatic, goofy face he used to be. Might have had more success if he wore a shirt saying "I AM A VICIOUS HEEL. PLEASE BOO ME." -Z

I assume this only applies to things that had at least mild bearing on IGN/SWF storylines. If not, I state the promos G wrote about posessing the body of Scott Baio, going to hell to reclaim his body, and having to commandeer the body of Optimus Prime in a vicious battle to the death with Megatron. I think. Anyway, that'd be the easy winner. But since that's probably not the case, there's a ton of stuff to choose from anyway. The Clan and Prime Evil each easily have about a half-dozen instances of hilariously contrived angles. Mayor McCheese and his faked death is near the top of the list, as is Chris Wilson blowing up a toystore in the middle of New York City. My personal choice would be the eXodus storyline, which led into the X/Thugg feud, which was... well... really out there, from what I can remember. But the fact is I can't, so maybe Thugg will enlighten everyone. Anyway. In lieu of that, I have something almost as good. Johnny's original character was a fellow by the name of Brimstone. He was your average, every-day angry hoss, with the exception that he had a horrible, trauma filled past of awful torture and pain and et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, because he was a secret millitary experiment to create the perfect killing machine solider... gone WRONG, y'see. He also had a clone. The crowning achievement of Brimmy, without question, is the fact he he once wrote a promo--in a fantasy universe or something--wherein he KILLED Mistress Sarah, Munich, Jake Helmsely(I think) and Grimedogg(JL commish at the time) who were allied in a stable. All were powerless against his AWESOME KILLING POWURZ... which failed to explain why he didn't just use them in all his matches, since he wouldn't have a perfectly average record in that case. Many people got extremely pissed off over the promo, the fact it wasn't canon not withstanding, which lead to Brimmy's response: If YOU don't like the fact he's so awesome with a gun, you COULD just give YOUR wrestler a 9mm as well. Indeed. But hey, on the other hand, it lead to Sarah writing a promo where she "investigated" the REAL reason Brimstone was so eVil... it was because he was "perfected" in a special unit with nothing but gay soldiers, in the most intense pysical training possible! *cough* You've come a ways since then, Johnny, but hey. It still bears mention. -Z

The fact there are so many people who come online just to go away disgusts me. The fact that chat is emtpy on quarter to nine Eastern on a Sunday disgusts me. Get in here. I know none of you have a life. -Z

But nothing (absolutely nothing) tops anything Mayor McCheese did. -Z

Don't do that logic thing, man. If anyone ever decides to tell you about SWF history like the Clan, you might... well, no, you will explode. Eh... wait a second... think I got a message coming in over the ol' skull radio. Ah yeah. Nice promo, Janus. -Z

The thing is, if you want overtime longer than five minutes in a regular season game, you need to break for another ten minutes to clean the ice. Even the best ice in the NHL becomes pretty crappy after a period of play; anything longer than five more minutes and you're skating on mush. The quality of the play would be awful, and really, who wants to see another ten or fifteen minutes of tired players in a game no-one really cares about? I agree on full 4-on-4 though. That'd just be stupid.

You probably should've quoted a source on this. It's not restricting goalies from leaving the crease, but rather... Canadian Press 2/10/2004 HENDERSON, Nev. (CP) - In what could turn out to be an historic day in NHL history, the league's 30 general managers agreed to several rule changes Tuesday that may drastically change the way the game is played. ``A couple of these differences will make a major difference to the way the game is played,'' New York Islanders GM Mike Milbury said as the day-long meeting ended. Among the changes the GMs will recommend: - Goalies can no longer handle the puck behind the back-end red line (behind the net); - The width of goalie pads will be reduced to 10 inches from the current limit of 12 inches; - The nets will brought back to 10 feet from the back boards from the current 13 feet; - The tag-up offsides will be brought back; - AHL will try out three points being awarded for a victory in regulation time with NHL possibly going to that format in 2005-06 if it works well in the minors; that would also include two points for an overtime win, it may also include two points for a penalty shootout win. ``Yes, it is quite a bit,'' said Carolina Hurricanes GM Jim Rutherford. The GMs' suggestions this week will be further re-examined this summer by a blue-ribbon panel of hockey experts including coaches, players, media and some GMs. Then the end package must be approved by the league's owners at a Board of Governors' meeting in late summer. Legendary coach Scotty Bowman took part in the decision-making Tuesday. ``They're asking me as a coach what I would do in certain situations and since I'm not active anymore I can give an unbiased opinion on that,'' Bowman said. This article is from tsn.ca. Sorry I couldn't find an exact link. I'm honestly surprised this hasn't been brought up sooner, since it's fairly big nerws. Anyway, the logic behind making the goalies unable to handle the puck behind the net is not because can go out and "drill whoever they want without fear of consequences," but because puckhandling goalies play an enormous, enormous role in the NZT. Without the goalies to assist in clearing a dumped-in puck from centre ice, it will bog down the speed of the trap immensely and give the opposing team a better chance to regain the puck in the offensive zone. Removing the goalies from the equasion is one of the only ways to conteract the trap, and much more sensible than just dropping the red line. That's said, I hope they go with the idea of penalizing the goalie if he does touch the puck, instead of something like blowing down the play, because that would just slow the game down further. I also forsee defenceman injuries going up over this. As far as the other proposed changes go, I like them, witht the noteable exception of the shoot out. Deciding a game based solely on the skill of a single player is stupid, especially in a team game. If anything will hurt the sanctity of the NHL, shoot out's would.

She gets nothing becase she is an inferior female. I mean, duh. -Z

Actually, one Audrey Hepburn is dead. That really helps Kibs' argument along, I have to say. -Z

It's ironic that Kingsmas happens right after King gives up booking the SWF, but I guess it's all part of some enormous conspiracy to show that no matter what, I'll never be the kind of icon he was. I think it's working. Either way, this is enough to put the season goodness of the holiday into anyone. ...even if I always liked Edwin more. -Z Who lives where it's actually still Kingsmas for another half hour.

Hmm... I just noticed the due time for this card is missing. I just noticed I've yet to reply to the due time issue in CC. Whoops. Oh, and Dace, Va'aiga? Two limb loss limit, please. That's all I ask. -Z

I wrote the opening promo! I touched up the Matheson/GSMS promo! I expect much love for these... or else. Actual comments will come later. Hopefully. Until then, I say yay Annie, yay Sacred for what look like the best two matches on the show. Yay also for the promos. -Z

Minor problems thankfully corrected. My keyboard is still fucked, though. Sigh... -Z

No, that will fall to me. If I could have everyone's attention, I'd like to say that I have managed to completely fuck up my laptop's keyboard. Again. As you should all know, this put my laptop out of commission for over a month the last time it happened. This should not delay my marking at least, since I fortunately have an incredibly shitty backup PC for events like this. However, the opening promo that set up important things was being penned by myself, and I'm not quite sure how to resolve this problem. I'm sure I will begin thinking about it once I decide to end the torrent of violent profanity streaming from my mouth right now. Be warned that my decision may just be to shoot myself and be done with it. -Z

Thugg, Judge found it one day and thought it was absolutely hilarious, so he PMed me the match. And it's not a big deal, Maddix. However, my position as psychotic despot means I must torture you with razors and a branding iron. A second offense will require Annie doing her... thing... on you. Company rules, sorry. -Z

Thugg. You lost to Heat. -Z

It's funny, because I just got finished writing a big rant about why I really hate most fandom. Although, really. I think the WWE board's badness is a little exaggerated. TSM isn't the worst board on the net by far and long. And honestly, if you were looking for sparkling conversations and enlightened debate among wrestling fans... well... I think your standards are up a bit too high. -Z