A Happy Medium

Stephanie: The baby is kicking. Vince feels her womb. Vince: It's kicking in morse code! Vince puts his ear to the fetus. Vince: It's saying....IT WAS ME SHAWN! IT WAS ME ALL ALONG!

Grisham needs to go back into the lockerroom later dressed in one of those pregnant suit thingies. Then he'll get his questions answered.

Won't drugging Shawn just make him perform better?

...Can a fetus make a heel turn?

GRANNY SMITH APPLE MIST~!

Triple H is getting....wide.

RIP Kirby. I was blessed to see the man play baseball firsthand.

*CRACK! SNAP!* The sound of a wooden chair splintering echoes throughout an empty SWF locker room. Why wooden chairs? Because they give a nice feel to any locker room. “Ah, fuck..,” calmly says Arch Griffon as he peels himself off of the floor. He picks up the seat of the chair, and flips it around. He reads the label on the bottom of the chair. “Midjit’s Marvelous Cruiserweight Chairs! Cleveland, Ohio. Maximum Weight: 269 ¾ lbs.” A look of anger comes to Griffon’s face. He drops to his knees, and stretches his arms out, seat still in hand. “MMMIIDDJJIITT!!” After screaming, Griffon looks around the room, to make sure no one heard or saw him. He throws the seat of his chair down, and grabs his suitcase. He slowly wheels it out of the room. “I have to do something about this,” Griffon says to himself. “I’m going to Cleveland. SWF Headquarters.” <cue up shot of commercial jet flying above some clouds> Archie arrives at the SWF Headquarters. He wears a suit and tie, trying to make a good impression on only his second time to the office. He approaches the front desk, where an attractive woman in her mid forties sits. “How may I help you, young man?” she asks politely. “I need to see Mr. Jeffrey Horatio, please,” he answers. “Do you have an appointment?” the secretary answers back. “Yes I do. My name is Archibald Griffon, and I have a two ‘clock appointment.” The woman types a bunch of random keys into her computer, and then makes a phone call. “Mr. Griffon is here to see you, Mr. Horatio. Uhuh. OK. I will send him right up then.” Griffon shuffles his feet, looking for comfort. “He is ready for you. Just take the elevators behind us to the tenth floor. Then take the third door on your left,” says the nameless woman. “Thank you,” says Arch. Griffon then shuffles his way past the front desk, and calls for an elevator. It arrives shortly thereafter. Griffon steps in, and presses a button for the tenth floor. As the elevator climbs up the building, Archie listens to the music playing for him. An instrument version of “Ice Ice Baby” or “Under Pressure” spreads from the small speakers. Finally, the elevator stops, and Griffon steps out. He makes a quick turn, and heads to that third door. On the way he notices framed pictures on the wall of Rane, Cyclone Comet, Stubby McWeed, El Luchadore Magnifico, and Tom Flesher. He knocks, and is invited in by a deep voice. “Welcome, Mr. Griffon. How may I help you?” says Jeffrey. Mr. Horatio is a graying man in his early fifties. He has a medium build, and a slight pot belly. He wears a shirt and tie, and he may have the best mustache east of the Mississippi. “I break chairs in the locker room, and I have a solution. I need a better chair,” says Arch. “Ah yes. You and Lil’ Buck have destroyed thirty-five chairs between you in the last month. Please take a seat, big guy,” says Horatio. Griffon slowly sits down into the plush office chair. He exhales as it doesn’t break on him. “How did you know that Buck and I broke all of those chairs?” asks Griffon. “Simple. You two just leave the mess where it is. People know where you two change at.” “Oh.” Griffon pauses. “Can I have this chair?” “No. It is my chair, and I will probably not get another chair. There is a shortage of chairs throughout the company for some odd reason,” says Horatio. “I see. Now I have to ask another question. Why are the chairs in the locker room designed for Cruiserweights and Junior Heavyweights?” asks Griffon. “Take a look around the locker room sometime, Archie. You have nearly one hundred pounds on the entire roster. We made the decision of purchasing chairs for the good of the roster. Now the decision proves to be a mistake,” says Horatio. “That is a valid point. However, why did you pick wooden chairs for the guys?” Arch asks. “They bring a nice outdoor feel to the locker room, we think,” says Horatio as he leans back in his chair, tenting his fingers against his chest. “Yeah, I have gotten splinters from the chairs. Just like the outdoors,” Griffon jokes. The two men share a good laugh. “So what was your solution, Mr. Griffon?” Horatio asks Arch. “The company buys me a new chair. It would save money in the long run,” says Arch. “We can’t. Our whole budget has been eaten up by the need for the lowest of lower midcarders having expansive pyrotechnics displays on their entrances,” says Horatio, a smile on his face. “You know, I could sue the company for less,” Griffon says with a smile. Jeffrey smirks, and spins around in his office chair a few times. Archie sits patiently in his chair. Finally, Mr. Horatio stops his chair. “I have a good compromise for us. Follow me,” says Horatio. Jeffrey gets up, and leads Griffon out of the office. They walk down the hall. At the end of the hall is a big double door. “Where are we going?” asks Griffon. “The fabled SWF supply closet, young sir,” answers back Horatio. Jeffrey leads the way. As they reach the doors, Jeffrey puts forward both hands, and swings both doors open. The two men enter the dark room. Mr. Horatio hits the light switch. “Welcome to history.” Says Jeffrey. The room is packed with old props and even championship belts. Included in the props are the cross Mayor McCheese was crucified on, the gun used by Apostle to hold Shadow at gunpoint, a crate of unsold Ted Flink autobiographies, and the groin padded underwear worn by Munich in his epic rematch for the IGNJL World Championship. “So that’s how they did it,” exclaims Archie. “Yes. That one piece of clothing cost the company ten thousand dollars to make,” says Horatio. “What?” “Yeah. Anyways, over in the back corner are the chairs we designed for certain Superstars. Shall we take a look?” asks Horatio. The duo walks to the back of the room, next to the chairs. Jeffrey invites Griffon to sit in a gigantic reclining. Archie has to climb into the chair. The chair is obviously too big for him. “This was the Hville Thugg’s chair. What do you think?” asks Jeff. “No way. This is way to big,” Griffon answers back. “Ok, we should try the chair next to you.” Archie slowly climbs out the chair, and sits into the next chair. This one is considerable smaller, yet durable and comfortable. “I like it. What is the story with this chair?” he asks yet another question to Horatio. “This was Rane’s chair. It reclines, and there’s also a special lever that adjusts how far the leg rest extends. He had a huge growth spurt back when he started out. You just need to remember to put the leg extension back so the chair will close up,” Jeff explains. “I’ll take it!” Griffon looks past Horatio and sees a chair behind him. It is a nicely sized chair, covered in purple velvet. There is a huge cup holder extension on the right arm. It is more than large enough to fit a pimp cup. “Whose chair was that over there?” asks Griffon. “Oh, that one? That was Pimp Daddy Sarp’s,” says the old man. Griffon changes his face to a serious expression. “I’m going to need two chairs for the road, sir.” <back to a random arena> Lil’ Buck walks into the locker room. He is clad in his usual attire. He wears a Pete Maravich throwback jersey, and extremely baggy jeans. Buck stops dead in his tracks as he sees the chair of his dreams. It’s big and purple. Is has a place for his pimp cup. The chair is certainly fit for a gangsta’. “Now ‘dat shits crackin’!” says Buck. A tag on an arm of the chair reads “For Buck”. Of course, Buck approaches. He flips the tag around, and reads a message left for him. “Compliments of Mr. Jeffrey Horatio. Enjoy!” Buck smiles widely. His gold teeth shine brilliantly under the locker room spotlights. “Damn! It’s good to be a gangsta’!” Lil’ Buck pulls his pimp cup out his suitcase, and places it inside of the cup holder. It fits perfectly. Buck leaps into the chair, throws his arms behind his head, and relaxes. <fade out>

I demand a chain match between Arch Griffon and An Octopus!

Dragonforce sounds about right too. They fucking rock.

even though it's over.. "We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel

Oh...and I'm back..

Come to chat, dude.

Smarks Board Name: A Happy Medium Wrestlers Name: Arch “Archie” Griffon Height: 6’4” Weight: 310 pounds Hometown: Des Moines, Iowa Age: 28 Face/Heel: Tweener Stable: None Ring Escort: None Weapon(s): Doesn’t need any Quote: None Looks: Arch is a big hulking man with red hair, and hazel eyes. He is ripped, and looks like he may be doing steroids or injecting horse testosterone every two hours. Outside of the ring, he usually wears a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers, and a pair of sunglasses. Inside of the ring, Arch wears white wrestling boots and white tights. Think of Ricky Steamboat back in the day and there you go. Ring Entrance: Unearth’s “Bloodlust of the Human Condition” plays around the arena, sending the fans into a frenzy of mixed reactions. Some boo, some cheer. The arena goes dark as the song starts up. It slowly fades to black, but right before it goes to black, the song kicks into gear, sending out some white pyro, that temporarily blinds the fans. Out of the pyro comes Arch, power walking out to the ring. He doesn’t acknowledge the fans, only the thought that his job must be done. Once he gets to the ring, he does some stretches to warm up for his upcoming match. Stats: ¯¯¯¯¯ Strength: 9 (He’s very strong) Speed: 3 (Not fast, but has good leaping ability along with agility) Vitality: 5 (Not indestructible, and has back problems which do give him problems) Charisma: 3 (Can cut a promo, usually lets his actions do the talking) Style: Arch is all about power wrestling, though he can break out some wrestling skills if he needs to. Against other power wrestlers, he will fight fire with fire. Against speedy wrestlers, he will try to destroy them. Against brawlers…same thing. However, with technical wrestlers, he will be much more cautious. Signature moves: (one) Griffon’s Grasp (Arch grabs and opponents left wrist, and delivers a short armed clothesline. Using his amazing strength, Arch lifts his opponent back to their feet, and delivers another. He always does two, but can go on forever with them. (two) Powerbomb (your standard powerbomb, but with gusto) (three) Gridlock (Full Nelson with…you guessed it…gusto. May be used as a finisher if built up to. See finishers for more details. (four) The Lion and The Dragon (bulldog where Arch actually stands still with his opponent in a rear headlock and lifts the victim by the head and neck, and then falls to his ass) (five) Running Shoulder Breaker (six) Bloodlust Plancha (Running plancha to the outside) Common moves: (one) Snap Suplex (two) Backbreaker (three) Knife Edge Chop (four) Twisting Spinebuster (five) Rope Guillotine (six) European Uppercut (seven) Superkick (eight) Belly to Belly Overhead Suplex (nine) Superplex (ten) Northern Lights Suplex (eleven) Gutwrench Suplex (twelve) Half Boston Crab (thirteen) Running Leg Drop (fourteen) Flying Shoulder Block (fifteen) Victory Roll (sixteen) Double Chickenwing Cradle (seventeen) German Suplex (eighteen) Charging Yakuza Kick Into Corner (nineteen) Reverse DDT Rare moves: (one) Bloodlust Powerbomb (Running Powerbomb to the outside. Done on wrestlers 250 pounds and smaller, and only in big matches. Finishers: (one) Arch Nemesis (Cradle Piledriver which is usually up by a kick to the stomach, a nasty knee to the face, and then a grab into a standing head scissors. Arch doesn’t like making mistakes.) (two) Gridlock (only if the opponent’s neck and/or head have been injured) Bio: Archie grew up in Des Moines, and had a normal childhood. Tricycles, bicycles, and shitty beat up first cars the way he progressed in transportation. In high school, he excelled in amateur wrestling. He was ranked number one in his 220 pound weight class. However, an injury cut his amateur career short. He did not receive any scholarships for college, but luckily he was book smart, and wound up transferring into Northern Illinois University. He majored and graduated with a degree in Computer Science, making him the most muscular professional computer nerd in the country. However, immediately after graduating, the technology bubble burst. So Archie went back to Des Moines to find some simple work. He later went into wrestling school. After touring the independents for a few years, he became known as a hoss who could go. He was signed by the SWF in December 2004. After a few months in the SWF, Archie tasted mild success. His tag team with Manson was on of the surprises of the year, as they had come out of nowhere to become contenders. His biggest win was his International Title win over Jay Hawke in the spring of 2005. Shortly thereafter, though, Griffon was suspended for over six months due to unknown reasons. He returned in early 2006.

I am glad I have never said that I was fixing to do something, and I still say "you guys" instead of "y'all". *realizes he has actually been in Texas for nearly seven years*

Indeed, Alex Ovechkin. I dig the avatar, Zed.

Also..I was the guy who recruited Ash into XF9. XF9 named next to MC = Good Ash Ketchum and his zany ideas to 'improve' XF9 = Bad

LESBIAN FOURWAY REFERENCE!!! I was there! Awesome, Thoth.

All of the fights I have seen at my schools have been to guys fighting like complete morons. To be honest, when I was in Junior High, I had the best fight of my class. In the middle of class, during my sixth grade year, I got into a fight. It was some kid who decided that the big, fat, smart kid with glasses wouldn't do anything. So, he kept pushing me, and pushing me over and over again over an extended period of time. One day, I insulted him in revenge for something he said and he gave me a punch to the ribs. Years of anger came out of me in less than two seconds. I had tunnel vision. The anger just boiled inside of me. I remember a few things from the fight. I threw two punches that put him into a nearby bookshelf. I had him in a headlock and was throwing knees at him for some odd reason. Then, according to accounts years after, I was throttling him up against a nearby door (we were in the back of the room), and his feet were actually dangling from the floor. I was also cussing like Ralphie from "A Christmas Story". The substitute teacher (hah) was screaming as the fight went on. I think it took her five seconds at the most to get to the back of the room. Really, the fight may have only lasted ten seconds. It was funny. I heard her yells in the back of my head, but I didn't relent. Looking back, I've been able to look through the haze somewhat. Whether it is my memory showing up, or just a made up memory, I do not know. As soon as I felt her hands trying to pry my arms off of this kid's neck, I backed off. In an adrenaline daze, I made my way to the Dean's office. I was suspended for one day, and that was Friday. So, I got a three day weekend out of finally standing up for myself. No one said shit to me again in Junior High. Although, I did feel bad that every time I saw the kid in the hallways, he tried to get as far away as possible. I wish that we could've been friends over time. On a side note, I have never gotten violent with someone since then. I really don't want to lose control of myself again.

You are not very hairy, Matt. When you have to work to dry out chest hair after a shower, then you are hairy. ...And Chicagoans are about the mustard.

Rickey Henderson without sticking around long enough to lose his welcome. Sweet.

Evo...can I get a comparison between Dehn and Ricky Henderson?

But my guy had over 1000 SB and less than 400 dingers. Meh..

I miss The Office. This is the second straight week I am without it.

My guy was only 51 hits away from 3000...I have no idea who my guy was similar to....Tim Raines?