The Amazing Rando

And how we LOOOONG for the workrate of UMAGA!

The fans boo the thought of Umaga not winning the title.

And it actually wasn't bad, it was way better than I expected. It's cause he's JAMAL, baby.

I can't believe there was a twenty-plus or so minute UMAGA match. Scary.

the similarities between that last shot of HHH being led to the back last night and how it was 5 years ago are creepy.

IF Kenny wins, it'll be fairly back and forth with a cheap heel victory. IF Hardy wins, it'll be more like a squash with Kenny getting three moves in.

so even though the big story of the night should have been Cena defeating Umaga...somehow, some way, HHH steals the show. I know it's a fluke, but that's why it's funny. I ain't hhhating.

Technically at the time of the first quad tear HHH was still a fairly decent wrestler, coming off a pretty good match with Taker at X-7, and the tag match with Benoit and Jericho, even without the injury, was a damn good match. Sure they made the Hardyz look like little bitches, but I would have rather seen The Canadians beat the Power Trip than the Hardyz anyway.

According to my notes: Do you like me? Circle Yes or No Wait, what? Damn you, Landon.

I need ideas for next week's Pree Show, so if anybody has any angles they want to run they can PM me, or any type of off kilter interviews that need played out, i'm the guy. Otherwise I'm going to have to start brainstorming filler.

Blank Machine? I just noticed that. That's fan-tas-tic.

Satellite Radio doesn't have to follow FCC guidelines. Hell, he shouldn't even have bleeped it out (if he indeed did)

I miss Next Generation magazine.

In storyline, the three (Cortez/Clark/Bruce) were basically brought in as, as the name suggests, Wildcards... SWF wrestlers "hired" by Zack Malibu (the wrestler) to keep the peace between two rival factions. But the three went a little overboard, sparking the current feud that is running between Zack and Bruce over there. I'm not sure how Landon came in, but I assume since we were the SWF contingency, he stuck with us. In all honesty, I don't think Clark really affiliates himself with anyone outside of Bruce, and even that is fairly haphazard. And, as it has been SINCE Martial Law...Alan is simply TOLERANT of Landon Maddix, and uses Todd Royal's various catchphrases mostly out of irony. (Thinking back, Clark also has a Book of Todd in his house in Long Beach).

He actually did use 40 elbow shots at the end of the CFC Finals. In reality, I don't want to meet the guys that could take 40 pissed off elbows in rapid succession and be able to fight back when it was over. Hell, I don't want to meet the guy that finds 40 rapid-fire elbows to be an acceptable argument stopper.

They could run two hours and do a "Top Five Wrestlemania Matches Ever" SNME ... keeping with their own agendas of forgetting the existence of former employees, they could do Austin vs. HBK, Benoit vs. HHH vs. HBK, Bret vs. Piper, Taker vs. HHH, and maybe for the fifth spot they could go with the overplayed Hogan/Andre or maybe show Edge vs. Foley from 22. Just clip them if needed and give each a little intro (possibly by the wrestlers involved if possible).

Bloodshed will be otherwise detained during the show, but may make an unscheduled appearance. I don't know yet. No matches for moi, though.

From: HeldDown~! Later That Night Also Available Here (second half of segment) Backstage, Bloodshed sits in the Wildcards locker room, Landon Maddix and Todd Cortez around him. Both men are laughing, but Bloodshed is fuming. BLOODSHED What am I going to do? He's probably still standing outside that door. It's been hours. CORTEZ Why don't you just go hit him with something? Both Maddix and Bloodshed stare. CORTEZ Well it might work. BLOODSHED I'm thinking I could hit him with a chair until he was a bloody pile of tissue, and he'd still be happy that I touched him. Did you see his face? Were you watching last night? MADDIX He's just a fan, Clark...or Bloodshed, or whatever. BLOODSHED But no fan you ever had has ever jumped around in the ring with you, except for Megan. Bloodshed looks back and forth between the two men, who squirm uncomfortably. CORTEZ That's neither here nor there. Why can't you just talk to him? BLOODSHED Psychotic Emotional Bullet Trains can't talk. What have I done in the past six months to warrant anyone cheering me besides putting that damn Akira Kawhatsits in his place. CORTEZ Kaibatsu. It's japa-- BLOODSHED I don't care! The fans don't care about me anymore. What the hell is....wrong with that guy? Alan Clark doesn't want cheered any more! I have to deal with the Disney stuff, I have to deal with Peters making me the BUTT of his jokes because he doesn't like what I'm doing over here. I don't see him picking on YOU, Maddix. MADDIX Well I'm not the kind of guy to flake out for no damn reason, either, Clark. You ever think of that? Would you trust someone who just left you hanging with no word of your whereabouts? You were gone for almost eighteen months, you left BOTH OF US, too. But that's a hatchet buried, Okay. Now you are in here HIDING from some kid who is smaller than you and... BLOODSHED ...and emotionally unstable! CORTEZ You ever look in a mirror, man? I mean, really. Let's be honest. BLOODSHED A man has to do what a man has to do. This was all Malibu and Bruce, and now look at those two. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrng! BLOODSHED WHAT? Bloodshed screams into his cellphone, shocking both Maddix and Cortez BLOODSHED Hello? Hello? CORTEZ That was the buzzer on the intercom, Clark. Damn. MADDIX *clicks on speaker* Wildcards Residence. May I ask who is speaking? VOICE CLAAAAARK! IT'S ME, YOU IN THERE? BLOODSHED SHIT! MADDIX *click* How did you get in here? You aren't an OAOAST wrestler. *pause* Are you? VOICE BOUGHT A TICKET! BACKSTAGE PASS! MADDIX *click* Stop screaming, kid. He's not in here. He came in, talked to Bruce Blank and then left right after. Like thirty minutes ago. VOICE Damn Bruce Blank! I hate that guy......fine. You know where he was headed? MADDIX *click* No idea. Now can you please go before we get you kicked out of here for harassment. We don't need this. We get enough shit from the fans around here. VOICE As you should, Maddix. Martial Law sucked. CORTEZ Aw hell no, he didn't just say. *click* Don't make me come out there! VOICE What the hell was Clark doing teaming with you two anyway? Stupid Revolution Zero...he's better than the both of you! Bloodshed smiles slightly. VOICE He should have came to his senses sooner! I mean, the Ghost of Mike Van Siclen? Who talked him into THAT one? BLOODSHED HEY! MADDIX SHUT IT. BLOODSHED He can't hear me unless you hit that little button and I'll say whatever I want. I am the one with the two championships in this group. MADDIX (reaching for button) HE'S IN... BLOODSHED NO!!! Bloodshed dives atop Maddix and knocks him to the ground as Todd Cortez reaches for the button. CORTEZ *click* I'm sure you'll see him next Wednesday. Now get out of here, alright. I'm seriously going to call security--or Bruce. And he isn't happy AT ALL. Bloodshed sits up, staring into the speaker, but no response is heard. BLOODSHED Thank Todd.

Michael J Fox is something like 3 years older than Crispin Glover, who played his dad in BTTF. Age doesn't matter.

WRESTLEMANIA PRE-SHOW BATTLE RAP JOHN CENA vs. O-TOWN And yeah, I know they aren't rappers. Any of them.

Board Name: The Amazing Rando Wrestlers Name: "Disney-Sponsored" Alan Clark Nicknames: "The Happiest Guy On Earth" Aliases: Bloodshed, The Apostle (Former Ring-names) Height: 6'1" Weight: 225 lbs. Hometown: When on the East Coast, Walt Disney World. When on the West Coast, Disneyland. When in Europe, Disneyland Paris. When in Asia, Hong Kong Disneyland or Tokyo DisneySea, depending on what country we happen to be in at the time. In Canada/Mexico, he states that he is from those Epcot Pavilions as an ambassador. Age: 25 Alignment: Intelligent, plotting heel. Ring Escort: Walter Reynolds Weapons: EERIE CHEER FACTOR. Quote: "Have A Magical Day." Looks: Alan Clark has decided to be more serious than he has been of late, given his recent status change. His hair is still slightly longer than Disney protocol, but instead of wearing various theme park and movie related outfits, Alan will come to the ring with his hair tied back and wearing black Benoit-esque trunks, featuring gold and red stylized tri-circle Mickey Mouse heads down the side of the right leg. Alan will also, as long as he has the WHC, wear the belt around his waist. It deserves that kind of respect. His time of being overly annoying are quieted down. He is now out to prove himself. Music: "To Die For" from The Lion King. (see attached) Entrance: The lights go out, and the following echoes from the loudspeakers... "Please Stand Clear of the...." the voice fades, and red, white, and gold spotlights flicker and flash around the arena slowly as "To Die For" thumps to life. The SmarkTron flashes shots of Alan Clark's steady career climb - flashing all of his various championship wins before finally showing a live shot of the stage as a spotlight hits the ramp to show Alan Clark emerging from the darkness, championship around his waist and Walter Reynolds in tow. "Coming to the ring at this time...representing _____________ and being accompanied by Walter Reynolds... he is the S-W-F Heavyweight Champion of the World... ALAAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAAARK!! Alan will make a slow walk to ring, possibly stopping to show off his championship before climbing the steps and stepping through the ropes. With the music at full bore, Alan will jump up in a corner and pose as though he is looking down on the crowd. His smirk is ever present. ---------- Remember, NO WEAPONS, but Alan *will* cheat as far as grabbing ropes for leverage, closed fists, and maybe a thumb to the eye if the moment shows itself. His contract only states that hardcore and weapon-related sanctioned fighting is forbidden, and says nothing about cheating. Alan loves this tiny loophole and may abuse it. Alan may also use whips into the stairs or anything that would be legal in a singles wrestling match, or that might get a warning but not a disqualification. ----------- Wrestling Style: Alan Clark is decently quick, usually on defense but can do a few high-risk moves. He is, however, not very risky. His Parkhopper Frog Splash and Fauntleroy 450 have taken second place to Alan's more technical and impact moves. For being on the high-end of the cruiserweights, he is fairly strong, at least against other cruisers. His endurance helps him to be able to go above and beyond in the heat of battle, and he is known for getting second, third, and fourth winds, depending on how much he has been beaten down throughout the course of the match. Alan will usually work on the back and the neck of the opponent, but will fall back on the legs if a weakness opens up, especially if the opponent is too large to be put into EPSOT or to be lifted for The Vacation's Over. Since size is apparent off the bat, he will not mess around with the back or neck as much as usual, and will instead mostly concentrate on the legs, going to the back somewhat if it helps get him out of sticky situations. If the opponent is too large to be placed into Touchstone Lightning, Alan will fall back on going off the top rope to get a victory. There is always a Plan B, and sometimes even a Plan C. Stats: Strength: 4 Speed: 7 Endurance: 6 Charisma: 3 NOTE: Alan may also be inclined to use a move not listed here, but that may have been a part of either Bloodshed or Apostle's movesets (mostly in terms of finishers) And as with most wrestler's signature maneuvers, anything that might possibly get a pinfall could, though it is usually saved for a finisher. Signature Moves (in order from most frequent use to least) Cutting In Line - Twist Of Fate neckbreaker 3 O'clock Parade - The Three Amigos/Triple Suplexes The Wreck Of The Miss Tilly - Cartwheel Corner Enziguri A Walk In The Park - Jericho Bulldog followed by Lionsault Mr. Clark's Wild Ride - Belly-to-Back Scoop Powerslam (Think Shelton Benjamin's T-bone, but with the opponent facing the other direction) Maleficent Journey - Dragon Suplex (that's quite the pun, huh?) - Not as powerful as a heavyweight's version and only done to people below his own weight. Will very rarely get a pinfall unless an opponent's neck is incredibly worked over. Maelstrom (Epcot's Norway Pavilion Attraction) - Whiplash Backbreaker - Alan will hold the opponent by the hands/wrists (while facing the opponent) and will climb up to the second/top turnbuckle while still holding the wrists. From this position Alan will leap forward, somersaulting over the head of the opponent to land in a seated position. The opponent will be pulled backwards and down so that they hit Alan's shoulder/back with their own back. Parkhopper - Frog Splash Fauntleroy (Donald Duck's middle name) - 450 Splash Kodak Moment - With opponent in corner, Alan hits a dropkick and backflips off the opponents chest to his feet. Common Moves The Whole New Whirl - Airplane Spin MEXICO Surfboard - Mexican Surfboard Backlot Suplex - Backdrop Suplex Illuminator - Alabama Slam (usually a tide-turner rather than a really big hit) Kicks & Chops Russian Legsweep Superkick Slingshot Suplex Standing Legdrop Standing Moonsault Snap Suplex Ranas Enziguri Backbreakers Sit-out Scoop Slam Dropkicks German Suplex Armdrags Standing Elbow Drop Hard Clothesline Rare Moves Bloodmist - Alan is not allowed by contract to participate in hardcore bouts, but because of his past he still may bleed and his new bosses know it. So if it can happen, it probably will. The Vacation's Over II - Ordonez Tempest Driverbomb. (So rare that I will probably never do it again) Touchstone Lightning - Nagata Lock II / Ced Ordonez's Cross Lighting Finishers The Vacation's Over - Canadian Backbreaker with Double Underhook-to-Angels Wings (sitout) (sometimes does it Running) EPSOT - The Extremely Painful Submission of Torture, aka La Ayakita 2000. Wind In The Willows - Top Rope Mr. Clark's Wild Ride. NOTES: Alan can not work hardcore, nor can he be involved in backstage brawling or fighting. Should someone try to goad him into such fighting or attack him from behind, Alan is instructed to fall down and take the beating until such time that Walter Reynolds or security can break it up and stop it. Regardless of these new rules, Alan is still just as much a loose cannon as ever, and it sort of pains him that he can't fight back when he wants to, but he does not want to lose his job. Because of this, Alan's "Eerie Cheer Factor" as Ejiro Fasaki once put it, has reemerged in full force, leading him to have a consistent smirk or smile regardless of whatever pain he happens to be in. BIGGER NOTE: Alan is NOT happy with not being allowed to work hardcore or violent matches, but he deals with it in ways that only he can. Manager's Name: Walter Reynolds Height: 6'7" Weight: 325 lbs. An extremely strong bodyguard, it is Walter's job to make sure Alan is protected from any sort of “un-Disney-like" occurrences when not in the ring. When Alan is in the ring, it will be Walter's job to make sure Alan does not go over the deep end as he has prone to, keeping him from using any foreign objects of underhanded maneuvers that the company might not like. Walter can hold his own in fights, and will simply punch and kick the Pooh out of whatever tries to mess with him, but only as a last resort. Unlike Alan, he can fight in self-defense, because that is what he is being paid to do. Though not trained as a wrestler, he can brawl and has been known to do a NASTY STO. ...but only when provoked. Alan_Clark___To_Die_For.mp3

Courtesy Of: OAOAST.Com Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Alan Clark, looking decidedly more the way Bloodshed should, is standing outside a back entrance of an arena, slamming both of his fists on the lowered garage door in front of him. Brrrrrrnnnnnnnnng! "What the ..." Brrrrrrrrrnnnnnnng! Alan pulls his cellphone from his trenchcoat pocket and brushes the hair from his face to be able to talk. "Yeah? What?" Pause. "Yeah I saw what he did. The one moment he leaves me alone so I can get the hell out of there and he goes out in front of all those people and does THAT?! I would have stopped him if I wasn't so damn close to freedom. What did Peters say?" Longer Pause. "WHAT?! He signed a contract for the match? I didn't sign a--" Very Brief Pause. "He thinks it's funny? Mister Joseph Fucking Peters thinks it's funny?" The censorship flies out the window as Alan begins to pace back and forth, almost mumbling to himself, "fine, there's no way out of it is there? Damn it. Walter, you find a way to get Ricky on the phone and you tell him that if he keeps doing shit like this I'm going to rip his face off and feed it to him. I don't care how much he likes me. What? He doesn't like the OAOAST? Fabulous. At least I don't have to worry about him showing up here then." Alan pauses, smiling, as finally the garage door begins to go up. But the smile quickly fades. Very quickly. "CLARK! CLAAAARK!" "Aw shit!" The camera turns to find Ricky stumbling haphazardly out of a taxi cab, throwing a few bills back through the window at an angry driver as Alan turns and throws his body underneath the partially open door, both screaming into his phone and toward whomever happened to open the door. "Why didn't you TELL ME! CLOSE IT! CLOSE THE DOOR!" And with only a second to spare, the garage door closes behind an exasperated Ricky, his fists hitting the door and a bit of a whimper in his voice. "I...I got us...a match, Alan....Alan???" (To Be Continued On OAOAST HeldDOWN~)

I'm sure ole Ricky will have stats up soon enough (if he hasn't already...i don't know because i haven't looked at the stats thread)

“It’s a new day…it’s a new year…and it’s a new beginning in the SWF! Stay tuned, folks, my name is Davey Post, but this isn’t the Post Show….it’s…” “THE SWF STORM PREE SHOW featuring your host, Stevie Pree!!” The announcer trails off as a few select cameras zoom in on a small stage in the bowels of the HSBC Arena. It’s a few hours before the first Storm of 2007 is set to kick off, but in front of a select few of the SWF’s biggest fans, a man with jet black hair and sharply dressed in a pristine white suit steps onto the stage and into view. “Hey Hey Hey!” he roars, “Welcome to the Pree Show!” a few fans smatter applause, not really sure what to make of this special ‘fans only’ event they have been herded into. Behind Pree sits two chairs and a cheap wooden desk, all three looking as though they set the company back about fifteen dollars. In front of Pree and in very plain view to everyone is what would appear to be an SWF.com intern, judging by the back of their shirt, holding cue cards for the host. The casual observer would note his obvious scanning of the cards. “Let’s get things underway…Davey?” “Yes, Mr. Pree?” the disembodied voice booms. “Where would you like to start?” “Crimson Yuletide!!” he exclaims, causing Pree to momentarily recoil from the apparent force of the yell. “Easy there, killer. Eaaaasy!” He reads, while somewhere, a laugh track plays. “That’s what we’ll do! Almost two weeks ago, there was a little show called Crimson Yuletide! Do you people think it was a HUGE success?” Again, another smattering of applause followed by a small “Maddix was robbed!” being yelled out from the back row. “It was a great show, Mr. Pree! Fantastic!” “Yes, yes. But it wasn’t much for these fans to be happy about, from what I could see from my special VIP box seats. Smile cockily.” The intern almost throws the cards down in shock, and Pree recovers by smiling cockily, “Moving on, first we had the man that is all things to all people, the one and only Tom Fisher, I mean Flesher I think, come back from a “hardly neutral”, whatever that means, three to nine deficit to secure defeat against Victor Herzog. When reached for comment, Victor was heard to say that he was as happy about the match as he was saddened by it, and I mean, really what more can you expect?” Another laugh track plays. “That’s what I’m talking about!” “And don’t forget Jimmy The Doom! He’s Benevolently Bishopric, don’t you think, Mr. Pree?!” “What got into your coffee tonight, Davey, SUGAR? Eh…EH?” Pree throws his shoulders up in mock confusion. Louder laugh track. “Yes, anyways, in what could only be described as ‘exactly what everyone expected’, Jimmy the Doom kept his Hardcore Championship and Wildchild earned his shot to face off against our special guest tonight!!” “Did you say SPECIAL GUEST?” “Yes, Davey. I did! But first, how about that Cold Front Classic! It was a chilling decision in the Nor’east that night! Let me tell you something!” “Tell me what, S.P.?” “Shut it, DAVEY!” “Yes, sir!” and Davey goes silent. “Thank all that is holy!” You might call that an improvisation. “Anyways, it was Landon Maddix, who is known as the what?” The intern whispers. “The Cockroach?! What kind of name is that? Kids today. But well, The Cockroach or whatever took an early advantage, using his wits to score a pinfall in the early-goings of the match!” Pree points over his shoulder to an exceptionally tiny TV screen, which no doubt is replaying Landon’s quick flash pin to take the first fall. “But it was Triple J that would come back with vengeance, acting as dangerously german as he could without resorting to any overt man-loving to tie the score!” And again, no doubt the screen behind Stevie is replaying the second fall of the contest, sadly minus any anal penetration, but there are reasons Bobby Riley isn’t in the booth anymore. “But Johnson was not done, and following an unheard of FORTY elbows to the face, Landon was still breathing, still conscious…but a defeated man!” The sounds of JJ’s elbows crushing into Landon’s jaw can be heard, followed by the sounds of the bell and the announcement of the victor, causing actual boos from the crowd in front of the stage. “He was SCREWED!” the same fan from before shouts out once again, more than likely missing the obvious joke that happens to pass in his outburst. Stevie doesn’t seem to get it either, but damn it, he has cue cards to read and bad improvisation to do. “I’m sure he was, I saw the way Morgan was looking at him on the outside of the ring after the fight! Ba-dum-TISH!” he makes his own rimshot, waving his hands frantically with his sound effects, causing an applause from somewhere in space as more of the grow of fans groans at his total lack of respect or knowledge of the veteran valet Megan Skye.. “That’s what I’m talking about! Yeah!” “You suck!” “And then there was the main eveeeent!” Stevie seems to ignore the heckler as he steamrolls through “Going into that night, I don’t think anyone counted either man out. But did anyone here tonight expect to see the amazing finish to the match that we saw?” A sound effect shouting “NO!” drowns out the bored crowd, “Gabriel Drake stuns the world, but mostly Michael Stephens, by showing him the Mark of the Beast off the SECOND ROPE!” Again, the television at the back of the stage comes to life, but all the people watching can make out is the sound of the two bodies striking the canvas, following by Mathew Kivell’s count and the announcement of the crowing of the new champion. “2007 really is shaping up to be the Year of the Beast, but tonight you know that we are going to hear from both Landon Maddix and Michael Stephens on their losses at Crimson Yuletide, but right now all you lucky, lucky people get the chance to see, up close, a man who also won a championship at Crimson Yuletide. From all the way back behind those two buses over there…it’s the Happiest Guy On Earth, Alan Clark!!” Alan steps from behind said buses, his two championship belts draped over his shoulders. His appearance prompts boos from those in the vicinity, but the smile on the Disney sponsored wrestler’s face is not diminished. He steps on the stage with a spring in his step and a zip in his doo-dah-day, taking a seat next to the desk as Stevie himself takes his own chair behind it. “Welcome, welcome. So how are you?” “I think I am doing prett—“ BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! “SHUT UP!” A solitary fan in the front row jumps up, turning his attention toward the jeering onlookers before turning back to the stage. “Sorry.” “Well, it seems you have a fan here tonight, Mr. Clark” “It seems I do, what’s your name, kid?” Alan beckons to the young man in the front row, who stands up looking as though he is about to faint. A member of security steps in and grabs him by the arm, moving him up on to the stage at the direction of Alan, putting him in the seat next to the double champ. “You alright.” “RICKY! RICKY BARBOSA!” the kid suddenly shouts, then realizing how close he is to Alan he throws his body backwards in shock, falling out of his chair and onto his back on the stage. “Woah, get up, kid” Pree buts in, pointing for security to again help the man up. After a few tense moments and deep breathing from Ricky in his chair, he seems to be ready to look over at Alan, who is just as confused as everyone else watching. “I’m, I’m, I’m…I’m very sorry. I’m your biggest fan.” “My biggest fan, huh? Is that so?” “Oh yes, I have some serious Wayward Pride.” Barbosa smiles, hitting his fist to his chest and ripping away part of his button-up shirt to reveal an old “Wayward Sons” shirt beneath it. “It’s always been my dream to be a pro wrestler someday. All thanks to you.” “Well, this is the year of a million dreams, I’m sure some day you’ll realize your dream.” Alan tries to turn his attention back to Stevie to talk about his match and motion for security to remove the bothersome fan, but Ricky pipes up, saying one word that catches Alan’s attention. “Tonight.” “What?” “I have a match tonight. On Storm. I have been hounding Joseph Peters assistants and secretaries for weeks, trying to get a meeting with him and tell him how much I want to be a superstar in the SWF. So he gave me a contract…” Ricky pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket and hands it to Alan, whose eyes quickly dart over it. “Can you live off that paycheck?” “I don’t care. I’ll sleep on the street. I’ll do whatever it takes, I’m just so happy to finally meet you again.” “Again?” “I met you at an autographing signing a few years ago, right before From The Fire.” Alan nods, and again tries to change the subject. “I can’t believe you actually have been teaming with Landon Maddix. What is wrong with you, Alan? You aren’t the Wayward Son I used to look up to.” “So, about that match…” Alan seems to be sweating in his chair, “Who you facing?” “A friend of yours. Ced Ordonez.” “And how much training do you have?” Alan tries to continue the small talk as Ricky pulls another sheet of paper from his pocket, the contract for his match. “About eighteen months. I started training a few weeks after I met you. You’re my idol, Mr. Clark.” Alan looks toward Pree as Ricky stares toward Clark the way young girls used to look at the Beatles. “Get me out of here” he mutters, prompting Stevie to stand up and come back around the desk. “You heard it hear first, kids. Tonight, Ced Ordonez takes on Ricky Ponderosa…” “BAR-BO-SA” “Yes, Barbozo, in just a few hours on SWF Storm. It’s the first show of 2007, and after what I’ve seen just in the last few minutes, who knows what surprises are in store later on this evening!” He does his best to wrap things up as Alan can be seen trying to ignore the stares from his apparent biggest fan and is probably secretly wishing Walter Reynolds wasn’t off on the phone somewhere. “From all of us here at the Pree Show, I’m Stevie Pree…” “…and I’m still not allowed to talk…” “…he’s Davey Post, and we’ll see you next week! PEACE!”

Kansas City is inferior to WWE?