Patty O'Green

*hugs*

An Anglepalooza Rematch for the World Tag Team Titles Chicks Over Dicks Vs The Sooner Bruisers w/Christian Wright and Mackenzie DeCenzo on commentary (if that's okay with Tony and KC).

I do believe Zack declared the theme song be Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance, I would've opted for more cultured and refined fare such as Chicken Noodle Soup from Kidz Bop

We're taken to what could either be the greatest place on earth or the most horrible place in the universe depending on your opinion, the head quarters for the [b]United Nations of Professional Wrestling[/b] in Saint Louis, Missouri. Gathered within the enormous meeting hall are wrestling dignitaries from around the world, each representing their home nation. Tajiri sits in honor of the land of the rising sun. Hacksaw Jim Duggan represents the land of the free and the home of the brave. Fit Finlay is the man for Ireland but seems more concerned with protecting his Lucky Charms from the gang of meddlesome Mexican minis who keep trying to steal it. Pierre Oulette sits in the Canadian seat, Juventued Guerrea in the Mexican seat, Prince Nana for Ghna, Nigel McGuinness for England, and look I'm not a fucking wrestling historian. Use your god damn imagination to figure out who goes where. Anyway we're shown the podium that rests as the focus for all eyes in the room. A nondescript elderly gentlemen with a terrible toupee and an even worse tapioca suit waits behind it to make an announcement. MAN Gathered citizens of the international wrestling community! Please join me in giving a warm welcome to a very special guest, who is here to plead a very important case to you. Ignore him at the peril of not only your country, but at the peril of the entire world as well. He is representing Syria, and is of the soon to be legendary Nerdly wrestling family out of Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. Ladies and gentlemen, Abdullah Abir Nerdly! Because this is [i]thee[/i] United Nations of Wrestling a man just can't walk down the aisle to the podium. Oh no. His entrance music has to blare from the speakers. Thus the authoritative sound that is Nas' legendary classic [i]Hate me Now[/i] is heard loud and clear by the attendees. The selection of entrance music, with it's words of “die motherfucker die” serve notice that this is no docile rookie making his way through the aisle. This is a man who has singular goal and he will not be leaving until it is met. Wearing a black business suit that matches his black sunglasses, Abdullah positions himself behind the podium and launches into a fiery diatribe. ABDULLAH ABIR NERDLY [img=http://emoticons4u.com/img/violent.gif]OAOAST لقد خربت حياتي ملوث سمعة بلدي! [img=http://emoticons4u.com/img/mad.gif]Nerdly في رياتمنت ريسيفيد انني لن يسكت انيلونغر! :fight2: Anglemania واعتبر موسنت عني عملت بجد الى ان من الصعب على المدى الطويل يستغل برعشيت العضو التناسلي النسوي مؤخرة تبول رمي البصاق مع والخراب والدمار لكم مني أنا أكره أي منها نكرههم هل مثل[img=http://e.deviantart.com/emoticons/c/chainsaw.gif] Bohemoth سأل اذا كان الاتحاد المبالغه براينت ، قال : "انني حقا لا أريد الخوض في اسرافا. لا يمكنك ان تقول شيئا بدون قول شيء مثيرة. انا لا اقول ان تترك وحدها والتركيز على المباراة. Melody :( فاصبح رئيس الرابطه المدرب بلادي الهدف رقم واحد عندما اذهب Nerdly :) ما يستغل هذا الرجل يجب حظر الريادي وفقا لتقديراته الشخصيه استغلال النظام. fرجل من يحصل على مودينغ منتدى لأشباه المثقف[img=http://e.deviantart.com/emoticons/n/nana.gif]Anglesaultالى التدريب وارحب التحديات التي تنتظرها مني" قال كريستكوياك الذي لعب تسعة مواسم في كرة السلة ، اربعة منهم في ميلووكيي Though the collected audience has no clue what he's saying, there's no mistaking the passion within his voice, and they listen, captivated by the mesmerizing quality of his words. Tajiri, so moved by the speech, stands up to ask Abdullah a poignant question. TAJIRI 私の生命雌豚はなぜとても雄ん鶏である?? 木びき台は傷害によってこの季節1月中旬の悩まされ、 季節に入る始動機として写し出された4人のプレーヤーなしで一時は遊んでいた ? ABDULLAH ميلر استولت على اللقب في الموسم :lol: TAJIRI あなたが支配する息子! :lol: Tajiri pays utmost respect to the dignified speaker by bowing in grace before he takes humbly takes his seat. ABDULLAH [img=http://e.deviantart.com/emoticons/t/tombstone.gif] Anglemania نيويورك (أ ب) - لوس انجلس لايكرز وفل جاكسون بدفع غرامة Marvin and Melvin :lol: هي فضلات الغاز مؤخرة برعشيت براينت مؤخرا دورتين مدة التوقيف [img=http://e.deviantart.com/emoticons/w/winner.gif] Money in the Bank لعبه هذا الموسم لضرب العناصر في مواجهة بعد ان طلق ناري [img=http://e.deviantart.com/emoticons/f/fork.gif] Jamie O'Hara كايل كورفير في الاسبوع الماضي ، اي دور حتى لا يوجه اي خطأ.غرامة موسم الكندي المتزلجون على افضل قليلا الخميس اريك باراغواي انتهت الثالث في مجموعة فائقة في نهائيات كأس العالم. النرويج فاز الائتلاف وند سفيندال الجنس ، بينما الاميركي بودي [img=http://e.deviantart.com/emoticons/s/stab.gif] Landon Maddix كانون الثاني / كريس سيمون قد تواجه المزيد من الانضباط فقط من التدقيق على القطع في نيويورك حراس الامام ريان هولويغ. المصادر تقول ان هولويغ تعتبر سياسة تحديد اهداف العوز الاجتماعي والرياضي مدربيناير كان يلعب بدون اربعة لاعبين من المتوقع حراس رئيس جيم رامسي التي كانت معهم في مقاطعة ناسو من مكتب المدعي العام في مسعى لتحديد ما اذا كان اتباع الاجراءات الدولارات التي تعاني من الاصابات هذا الموسم واحدة في منتصف هذا الفريق له امكانيات كبيرة وأنا حريصة اكثر الى الامام Tears, possibly fake ones, well up in the corners of Abdullah's eyes, as his lips quiver in passionate sadness. He steadies himself on the podium as he prepares to speak in a language many can understand, English. ABDULLAH My friends, diplomatic sanctions must be enforced and improved upon! The integrity of diplomacy must be upheld, because without it, we are a world divided! And when we are a world divided, we are a world in chaos! I do not stand before you asking for much, only for equal treatment to be given to all people, regardless of race, age, nationality or credo; tenets that many of your own countries have been founded on, but ideals they continue to neglect! Leaders of the free world, I Abdullah Abir Nerdly, beseech you, do you your duties as trendsetters for this new era of peace and goodwill, right the wrong that the oaoast has committed against me, and demand that Abdullah Abir Nerdly, a proud Nerdly, a proud Muslim, a proud Canadian, a proud Syrian, and a proud citizen of this global wrestling community, be entered into the twenty man Money In The Bank Battle Royal at Anglemania! Thank you! شكرا! :lol: The instant he concludes his speech the audience rises to their feet and offers him a thunderous ovation. Hacksaw runs around the hall screaming “Hooooo”, Tajiri spits green mist at everyone within range, Fit Finlay does whatever the fuck Irish people do, Kane, the representative of parts unknown bears his soul to a Janitor, discussing his hopes and dreams for a better Iraq, Prince Nana dances up and down the asile, and Juvnetued slips GHB into peoples' drinks. It would seem that Abdullah has won the collective group over, now they must make good on their promise and gain him entry into the Money in the Bank battle royal. We fade out with [i]Hate Me Now[/i] playing in celebration of Abdullah's moment of triumph.

hugs not drugs, friend We're taken to the grooviest, most funkadelic museum you'll probably never go to, The Getty Museum In Los Angeles, California. To be more specific our scene is that of a pristine gallery, in which the cult revolutionary [i]zoopisa[/i] works by LA based artist Tim Hawkinson are on unique display. A visual hallucination of animals, the works are a stunning menagerie of animal forms created by using various household items. You have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about do you? Oh well. It looks a lot better then I made it sound. Sitting in the collection of jungle chaos is everyone's favorite L Word knock offs, Amercia's Sweethearts, and Hollywood It Girls, Chicks Over Dicks. What are they wearing, Patty? What are they wearing. Hey shut the fuck up, I'll tell you when I damn well feel like it. Anyway, Krista has attired herself in a Fresh brand cropped to the chest baby pink hoody, with an elaborately designed seahorse on the right side, and a playful lace embroidery on the bottom. To match this frilly little outfit, her legs boast light denim True Religion jeans. Of course she has a bottle of Budweiser in her hands and several empty cans on the floor. Alix sports a plunging neck lined pink dress with a fun and sassy beaded floral accent traveling along the side. ALIX 你好 to our dog eating communist amigos in China! And a big helloooooo world to the rest of civilized society that doesn't look at Snoopy and think “Wow, he'd go great with a side of macaroni salad!” I'm Alix Maria Spezia, swarthy sea faring lass, friend of man, romancer of woman, and bad ass truck driving son of gun. And this is my lowly, slightly less attractive, but still kinda nice to have around, love servant... KRISTA Denise Austin! ALIX Sorry, Krista, but all your efforts to disavow yourself from the responsibility of how much this segment is gonna suck totally bit the dust when they flashed a big KRISTA ISADORA DUNCAN under your pretty little face! Anyway, ladies, gentlemen, convicts watching in prison in dire need of fapping material, outlaws on the lamb watching on the TV in the family room of the suburban home who's residents your holding hostage, some of you may think we're only in the oaoast to provide gratuitous T.A., cheap b-level sitcom comedy, and unbelievable business exposing matches. KRISTA Well, you're right. ALIX But we're also here to provide a service to the community! So gather around, kiddies, but not don't get to close due to my fear of a child molestation law suit, 'cause Auntie Alix has an introductory story for you. A couple months ago, my aunt Karen said to me, "Ah don't get why you gotta get involved in that wrestling shit. Whatchu need to do is find yourself a man." Or if I was her I'd find many men, several of whom would be related to me. Then she said "All them wrestling fans is dumb ass redneck hillbillies without no culture." Then she kicked me out of her trailer and told me go fetch her some Busch beer and Marlboro Lights so she could have something to drink and smoke during the [i]Larry the cable guy marathon[/i], that was supposed to come on before NASCAR. KRISTA Now if you live up to Alix's aunt accusation and you are an uneducated half wit you shouldn't feel bad, so is our president and half of congress. There's a future for you on the otherside of that rainbow! But we'd like to help you steer clear of possibly leading this country into the ninth level of hell, and not prevent you from dropping little nuggets of buffoonery such as “The point now is how do we work together to achieve important goals. And one such goal is a [b]democracy in Germany.[/b]" on the unsuspecting ears of voters that learned Germany already had a democracy in second fucking grade. We'd like to perhaps instill some culture into the minds of you, the oaoast nation. Maybe you can place it somewhere between Melody's bra size, and the lyrics to the limerick “beans, beans, the magical fruit the more you eat, the more you toot.” And even better this educational segment fulfills the requirements of Alix's community service. At the least, all you p-i-m-p-s who are no doubt banging mad chicks with your CM Punk t-shirts and collection of Austin Aries videotapes, will at least have something to talk about with your lucky prostitu...I mean date, instead of pontificating aloud like a raving coked out of his mind three hundred pound sex fiend over what WWF woman had the sweetest ass. Hint: Trish Stratus. ALIX I would've said Bret Hart. KRISTA Oh dis! ALIX With that said, coming to all you beautiful peeps on two days tape delay from our home town of traffic infested, racially divided, smog ridden, superficial Los Angeles, is the first eva Chicks On Art! KRISTA And most likely last ever once the museum curator finds out we aren't doing an LGBT introspective on Picasso's doleful [i]blue period[/i]. This hard hitting but educational show allows us to provide insightful commentary into the otherwise mundane world of modern art. ALIX If you're wondering why you should listen to our opinions on art or politics or the environment or anything not related to our chosen entertainment fields the answer is because we're celebrities! DUH! And that makes us better and more knowledgeable then you. Real talk. KRISTA I'm so excited about this I've only thought of killing myself twice today! ALIX (pinching Krista's cheek in pride) Baby steps, baby steps! KRISTA Well, tonight on the premier episode of Chicks On Art we look at 20th century artist Mama Wright. An abstract horror expressionist, Mama Wright is best known for her crabs the size of wombats, and her most famous piece, oaoast wrestler, and Anderson Cup winner, Christian Wright, who just so happens to be one of our opponents at Anglemania. Imagine that! ALIX What a shocking co-inky-dink! We really need to see a pic of this artsy chick! [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/up-women-00124.jpg] KRISTA “Heroin free, and loving it!” Further proof that god does not exist. See also: [i]Dancing With The Stars[/i], Fall Out Boy, Simon Singleton, and the continued existence of Lopez, Jennifer. Those teeth have more film then Miramax Studios. Where's the Terry Taylor, I'd still hit graphic? ALIX I'd really like to give ya a brith date on this super hot female, but the only way to figure out her real age is to cut her open and count the fudge ripples. KRISTA I hope she never wears yellow in her life, otherwise you'll have people thinking she's the sun, see her coming down the stairs, and start screaming like chicken little “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” ALIX Christian Wright, your mother is so fat that when she weighs herself on a scale her weight is much higher than what is considered normal for a woman of her age and height. Your Mother is so overweight that she has a high level of cholesterol and may suffer from heart problems in the future. Respond to my gat, biatch! KRISTA Christian Wright, your mother is so stupid she never gets full insurance when she buys a car and often drives irresponsibly and in poor conditions increasing her risk of damaging the vehicle without appropriate coverage. ALIX Oh snap, girlfriend, the heat has been brought tonight! Christian Wright, your mother is so stupid that she voted in the recent election without fully understanding the issues, and because of that, the candidates that she voted for actually were running on a platform that proposed actions that were not in her own best interest. KRISTA Cold blooded Rick James style. Christian Wright, your mother is so ugly that although I may have requested the I'd still hit Terry Taylor graphic be displayed, in reality it is highly unlikely that Terry Taylor would pursue fornication with your mother. ALIX Whoop that trick! Get 'em! Whoop that trick! Get 'em! Christian Wright, the matriarch of your family is so poor that she often must take out loans from the bank which she usually cannot afford to pay back on time due to her inability to properly manage money. As a result of this she has very bad credit and now the bank will not loan her money anymore. KRISTA Christian Wright, your mother is so fat that when I make fat jokes about her it's not even in jest. You see, most "your mother is so fat" jokes are meant to be humorous because of clever use of exaggeration while describing the obesity of someone's mother, however, in the case of your mother, these fat jokes would not be considered humorous exaggeration, because the descriptions are accurate to your mother. ALIX Hey, Krissy, maybe in our ghetto fab, hood rich life, we're sort of out of touch with what makes a chick fergalicious. Maybe dudes really do prefer some girl who looks like a wax museum rendition of the love child of swamp thing and Martin Glick. I thinks we gots to score a second opinion from our biggest fan in whole wide galaxy, Snoop Dogg! Dogg father, as your humble and loyal servants, we ask you, would you mack this ugg woman ASAP? [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/snoopsmh.gif] KRISTA For a dime bag? Would you festoon a bicycle with Carebears stickers and ride it into the heart of a tornado if only to see her beautiful face just once? [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/snoopsmh.gif] ALIX For a dime bag and a pony? Because I would for a pony. I love ponies! [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/snoopsmh.gif] ALIX What if the pony banged [color="#0000FF"][b]crip[/b][/color]? Like, this pony jacked up bloods worse then HIV. How about now, would ya smoke a fat one for the hood? [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/snoopsmh.gif] KRISTA Alix, seriously, don't even try to act like you wouldn't. You'll hook up with anything as long as it's got a pulse, a credit card under the limit, and two legs. And judging by some of the people you dated in college, that last one is strictly on a case by case basis. ALIX No I wouldn't, No I wouldn't, No I wouldn't! KRISTA Yes you would, yes you would, yes would! ALIX Shut up, shut up, shut up! Anyway, we are so, like, incredibly sorry, but we don't have a picture of Papa Wright, anywhere. But we totally wanna make sure we extend a heartfelt congratulations on his recent double life sentence at the hands of the North Carolina justice system. KRISTA That means even if he comes back from the dead he's still serving time. What's his motivation, Jesus? What do you say to a guy with no future? ALIX Keep your head up and your booty down? KRISTA News you can use, Papa Wright. But he can at least take some comfort knowing that his wife's greatest work, Christian Wright, continues to shine to this very day. And it is that piece that we will be closely inspecting tonight. ALIX A super eloquent speaker, Wright... KRISTA Hold on, he's what passes for eloquent speech around here? Wow, then the conversation our dog has with the carpet after he scarfs some leftover Taco Bell out of the trash bag, would make sir Lawrence Olivier shit has already well shat Captain America underoos in joyous glee. But I digress. Wright, a former HI-YAH world champion, and the 2005 oaoast rookie of the year, is something of a performance artist himself. However, despite winning the 2007 Anderson Cup, his art has fallen on hard times as of late, as the man, who was once a walking [i]Sesame Street[/i] word of the day, has now said a grand total of two sentences in the past two months, and has had every last one of his lines stolen by the slimy tramp The Enterprise pulled off the early morning shift at Big Joe's Titty City topless revue, Mackenzie DeCenzo. ALIX Oh my god, wait, stop! Did you see that outfit she was wearing last week? I bet the National Geographic channel had to sponsor an archaeological dig through her closet to find an outfit that old. It probably came with an eight track tape, a pet rock, and an old news clipping saying Jesus H Christ, 28, of Nazareth reportedly turns water to wine, more as the story develops. KRISTA Is there anything in this world more likely to spiral you into homicidal rampage then a good looking woman who can't dress? ALIX I burned three people to death with a curling iron last week, and ran over a group of inner city school children on a field trip to the zoo, and then backed the car up several times to eliminate stragglers. Fortunately they were all lower class ethnic minorities and will not be missed by the white dominated legal system, thus I will most likely escape prosecution. KRISTA And well you should, sweetie! Moving away from mass homicide, and a senseless act of violence we return to Mama Wright's piece, a senseless act of not visiting an abortion clinic, Christian Wright. Now allied with The Enterprise, Wright is has morphed himself into a stock..no that's not right..banker..no..uh...um...what's his gimmick anyway? Financial guru? Bill collector? ALIX Who's scared of a bill collector? We've got called ID! Phone rings, you look, hey, let that ring, I don't know any dudes with an eight hundred number from Mastercard. You ever had a bill collector on your phone, talking crap? "Damn it! We've been pretty patient with you so far! Now when can we expect payment?” You can expect payment anytime you want. You pick a date, that way we can be surprised together. I don't have the money today, I didn't have the money last week, and I won't have the money next week. Quit calling me, I'm sick of disguising my voice, no Hindu people live here, this isn't the residence of Dali lama. Ghandi died forty years ago, he's not Western Unioning you your money, hang up! KRISTA Thanks to my therapist telling me to avoid any imagery that might cause me to inflict harm on myself or others we won't actually be watching any Christian Wright matches tonight. So all the festering turds that compose the vast ocean of fecal matter that is Wright's career will stay off screen. But we will analyze the biggest island of crap in that overflowing river of excrement, the man himself, Christian Wright. ALIX Let's have lookie-loo! [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/200px-Siaki.jpg] ALIX Scarcely worthy of puking on, let alone commenting on. Krista, your thoughts om this terribly constructed form of bovine melancholy. KRISTA When looking at Christian one feels a burning jealously of the legally blind or the recently deceased. If one were to be given a choice between nails being driven into one's own ovaries or having to behold Christian in his naked horror, one should speed to nearest Home Depot with haste in feet and credit card in hand. One might find removing lint from grandfather's penis to be a more enjoyable experience then having to view Christian Wright for any length of time that extends past a single nanosecond. ALIX I have sorta a new respect for Mama Wright, she's like here's my ugly as sin son, you can put him on TV, or you can stick 'em up your ass. I really don't give a shit, I'm gonna go huff gasoline. Alix takes this moment to pull out a pipe and smoke it as a mark of sophistication. Strangely no smoke exits the pipe, only little pink bubbles. ALIX Oh my god, someone really needs to do the right thing, and tell this dude that folding his arms and holding a wrestling belt does not, does not, does not make him look threatening; it makes him look super-duper cold. Like he tossed off his delicately permed and pressed polo shirt in a moment of spontaneous exuberance during a young republican's meeting after a firery speech from John McCain, and now he can't find it. So he's stuck in the men's room freezing his buns off and stealing looks at disgraced congressman Mark Foley's sausage until the convention is over. Shame! Sooooo, cuddle cakes, who's naked body is less likely to totally obliterate your faith in humanity, God, Buddah, Allah, and Jodie Foster? Moneymaker or Wright? KRISTA To wonder who's appearance is more likely to induce a round of violent projectile vomit and frantic clawing of one's eyes out with a spork, is akin to a deaf quadriplegic trying to pick a fight with a one armed, blind Korean War Veteran. No matter how appealing the prospect of an "ADA Beatdown" might be to the inner hell bound human being in all of us and to Melody Nerdly desirer for another Youtube award winner, the end result is that both will come out looking more pathetic than usual; and in the case Wright and Moneymaker, they need to salvage every bit of "respect" that hasn't already been washed away amongst the sea of feces infested sewage that pours out each time they open their mouths or appear on a television screen. Alix takes a puff of her pipe and bubbles fill the air, annoying Krista to no end. KRISTA Why don't we step away from the visual arts and address a performance piece that's akin to Godzilla and King Kong being matched against Timmy from [i]South Park[/i] and Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite? That piece would be the tag team title match at Anglemania between Alix and I and The Enterprise. Now normally while Alix sits on her sweet ass, blowing all the minutes on my cellphone to get text message updates on what Jessica Simpson will be wearing at her next concert, I have to waste half the day I could be using to drink malt liquor and send death threats to Denise Austin, to think of some clever witticism to indicate that whatever subhuman wastes of sperm and egg we're matched up against are going to be squashed in a match no one will even remember occurred a week later. ALIX [i]Sweet ass[/i]? Aww, Krista, you're so nice! KRISTA But this time, America, when your remote flips to Comedy Central it's Wright and Moneymaker who've got more jokes then a Chris Rock special, because they've decided to post up a total of eight hundred thousand dollars in order to avoid wrestling us at Anglemania. Unlike the myriad of other half wits, cataclysmicly retarded miscreants, and convicted felons on a work release program, these two seem to have a brain, and they know like we know, they don't want to step to this. ALIX (singing [i]Regulators[/i], quite terribly) It's a G Funk era, funked out with a gangsta twist. KRISTA (barley able to control her rising anger) Uh-uh. Anyway, them bea... ALIX (singing once again) If you smoke like I smoke, then you high like everyday! KRISTA Riiiiiiiight. Them bea.... ALIX (singing even worse then normal) And if ya ass is a buster, 3-1-0 will regulate. KRISTA ....... ALIX ....... KRISTA Alright, then. Them beating us at Anglemania? Even Ripley's wouldn't believe that shit. So obviously, Moneymaker, you gotta take a swim through the ol bank account. Now, money can buy you a lot of wonderful things, a car, a house, an eight ball of cocaine, a television, fourteen year old Taiwanese slave labor, fourteen year old Taiwanese wives, a dog, an army of radical Islamic extremists ready to cripple the American conservative infrastructure with the snap of my fingers, a cat, an Ipod, and most importantly a fantastic pair of breasts, as your's truly certainly attest to! But what money can't buy you is... ALIX Love, sweet, love. KRISTA I don't know, if Terry Taylor had a few extra bucks in his pocket, maybe his weekend companionship would be a real woman and not the stuck together pages of our swimsuit calendar the company wouldn't even give him an employee discount on. But actually, I was going to say money can't buy a championship. ALIX Unless it's a replica belt! But then it would probably just be cheaper if you just wore a sign that read “DO NOT TREAT ME AS A FULLY FUNCTIONING HUMAN BEING ONLY AS AN EMOTIONALLY STUNTED MONGOLOID DOPE DESERVING OF NOTHING MORE THEN YOUR SCORN AND A POSSIBLE KICK IN THE GENITALS SHOULD SUCH ACTIONS TICKLE THYNE FANCY!” KRISTA Might be a little hard to fit that on a replica belt nameplate, fellas! Although seeing that most belts are sold to the XXXL variety of shut in, maybe you could squeeze that on there. ALIX Ya know, I guess if you're some pansy ineffectual hipster whose big idea of physical exercise is chopping up lines of coke, then buying a belt that even Ned and Simon were able to win three times might be okay but us real women who live in the goddamn real world where we stop being polite, motherfucker, I can't roll with this shit. I am going to complain and complain about this to upper management until I get free things which I don't want. KRISTA The point, which we've seemed to have lost in the preceding LSD induced rambling is, Enterprise, whether you like it or not, and judging by the fact you've gone through six pair of pants since I started going at you, you probably don't, we're all gonna meet up at Anglemania. And, Theo, I can call you Theo, right? So much shorter then your proper title of degenerate jackass who deserves the most painful death imaginable to man. Theo, if you wanna know what's it's like to work in the oaoast after Chicks Over Dicks gets done with you ask your man, Christian Wright. He knows, he knows all to well. Ask him what's it's like to go from being a top ten wrestler, to not being mentioned at all. Ask him what it's like to go from being the future of the company to being Boheomoth's left over trash. To kill a man and leave him bleeding is nothing, but to kill a man and leave him breathing? That's what we did to Christian. Ask him, and you'll find out why winning the Anderson Cup was the worst thing you've ever done. Alix do you have anything of [i]intelligence[/i] to add? ALIX Hey, kids, if you think that you'll be able to produce some kinda super awesome hybird offspring with a marsupial mole, then think again, buster! You'll probably just get a five thousand dollar fine, and a severe case of scabies. KRISTA You're lucky you're good looking. (Krista shifts her gaze back towards the camera) For all the crack heads, the critics, the cynics, and all my heroes in the methadone clinic, this has been Chicks On Art. We're done for the night, so until next time, stay sick, you crazy bastards. With that we return to Sofa Central where Cole has a look of questionable defiance on his face. COLE I have a replica belt of every oaoast championship hanging on my wall and I don't consider myself to be a loser! I enjoy having title defenses with my various stuffed animals. Simba from the Lion King is a four time 24/7 champion!

From Atlanta, GA!

god damn this bitch gonna be hella hyphy. To much shit for one show, ya'll dudes need to scale back, spread your stuff out a bit. I ain't gonna read all this shit, fuck ya'll! I for one will have the first (and hopefully last ever) Chicks Over Art segment. The topic: Christian Wright and the neo abstract horror movement, a poignant reterospective.

Yes, yes, if this huge grouping of stuff could go *anywhere* after the skit with Landon and Moneymaker that would be ever so wonderful! Thank ya much, dearest love. COLE Folks, Terry Taylor is backstage with the only two people he's actually allowed to interview, Chicks Over Dicks. Right on cue the view is switched to the oaoast interview area, a fanciful stage, designed in a nouveau tech theme and populated with various posters hyping the upcoming Anglemania pay per view, and blown up covers from various oaoast dvds. In the center of the screen, stands Terry Taylor a monument to unremittingly horrid dorkdom in an Anglemania football jersey, white sweat pants, and oaoast camo baseball hat. Pause for a minute and think of how lame one has to be, not just to wear a wrestling related baseball hat, but one that has nothing on it but a wrestling company's logo. I mean, fuck, dudes, if you like 50 Cent, you ain't gonna be throwin up no Interscope hoodie, is you? On the other end of the style spectrum sits the forever fashionable tag team champions, Chicks Over Dicks. Krista, holding a bottle of Moet champagne, has posed her figure into an elegant deepv neck lace tank top that alternates between feminine pink and ferine black tiers, and an ocean blue fringe skirt, featuring vertical shell pattern embroidery. Alix conforms to her reputation as beach babe, wearing a light blue white striped Hollister long sleeve collared shirt, and white, heavily destroyed shorts that cut off at the thighs. TERRY TAYLOR Fans, Terry Taylor here with oaoast world tag team champions, and Hollywood it girls, Chicks Over Dicks! Girls, we have a huge match coming up next, Todd Cortez and Landon Maddix, the 2007 SWF clusterfuck winner, two time SWF world champion, and one half of the current SWF tag team champions will challenge you for your tag team titles. Even though you're both prone to understatement about the importance of your own matches, I think you could least admit that this match is a big deal..... KRISTA Oh, yes, Terry! Never in my most moistening and titillating of sexual fantasies could I have envisioned the orgasmic loveliness that has come about from the birth of this splendid matchup! Landon Maddix, Todd Cortez, Theodore Moneymaker and Christian Wright give yourselves a pat on the crotch or hemorrhoid riddled buttocks ,which ever is your preference gents,as you magnificent citizens have most certainly earned it for this special Olympian task you've completed. Why with this historic union, you've made the Treaty of Versailles appear similar to the disgraced debauchery of Terry Taylor's gay4pay arrangements with young, innocent, independent wrestlers hungry for a taste of wrestling's elusive spotlight. It's okay, Terry, I don't judge you. The teenage years are turbulent for most males. At some point, you're going to get tired of the old unmarried boys basketball coach pulling you into the locker room and fondling you under the pretense of “improving athletic coordination”. This is your way of "getting back" “AHHH, Coach Jenkins your snake is spitting poison at me!” TAYLOR Krista, those aren't very nice things to say about a person! KRISTA I don't care, I'm gorgeous, I don't have to be nice. I will bitchtalk you all day, every day, from here until the sabbath. Can't stop, won't stop. Rocafella records. ALIX (to Terry) I told you not to let her edit your autobiography. TAYLOR Live and learn, Alix. Well, speaking of The Enterprise and Landon Maddix, they've attached a most troubling stipulation to this championship bout. Should Cortez and Maddix win the titles, Landon will turn the belts over to The Enterprise in exchange for five hundred thousand dollars, a match at Anglemania, AND a guaranteed world title shot. As tag team champions who have fought tooth and nail to preserve your titles under sometimes unusual conditions, how do you feel about Maddix being so willing to sell off his titles to The Enterprise? ALIX Dude, five hundred thousand dollars is, like, a really big amount of money! Do you know what I'd do if I had five hundred thousand dollars? KRISTA Pay me back for the years of undue emotional hardship you've caused me? ALIX Don't be, silly, Krissy! No, I'd find the two toughest looking, most bad ass biker dudes in the whole wide world, and I'd be all like “Hey-yo, chico, yeah, you maricon punto, Tony Montana...he don't die dat easy.”, I'd also talk like Scarface if I had five hundred thou, So, I'd say to them “I'll pay you five hundred dollars if you dudes swap spit.” And they'd get all awkward and stuff, because their entire life has been built on a heteronormative shunning of homopositive ideals. But five hundred thousand, that's hella dope cash, and if you close your eyes you can kinda pretend the dude with the swastika tattoo on his neck and two counts of statuary rape against him is Jodie Foster. I loooove her! Anyway, so yeah, they'll kiss and stuff. But it'll be on the lips, and that is so not cool. So, I'm l all like “you gotta kiss him like I kiss my sister, with some freaking tongue, baby!” So they hesitate on it. But once again, five hundred thousand dollars! Just imagine Jodie from [i]Catchfire[/i] and we're so looking at some serious tonsil hockey with the possibility of triple overtime. She shoots she scores! KRISTA (to Terry) I've been thinking of killing myself with a surfboard. Pretty poetic, symbolizes my lost youth and innocence in the pursuit of monetary wealth, et cetrea. Think I can do it? TAYLOR I guess if you hit yourself with enough velocity to cause internal bleeding or to split your skull in two. ALIX (rambling on and on and on and on) I mean, maybe, with all that money Landy can finally take Piglet back to the farm and get a girlfriend who's, like, super hot. Someone who looks like, uh, um..... TAYLOR Jodie Foster? ALIX :firedevil: [b]BACK OFF JERKFACE, JODIE IS MINE[/b] :firedevil: But yeah, like a really hot chick, instead of one like Megan, who's so nasty she doesn't even wear underwear to cover up her no-no spot, just a sign that says “Warning: Exposure to may cause pus like yellow discharge, difficult urination, swollen testicles, and extreme infection.” Poor Landon! I feel, like, soooo bad for him, I just wanna start a PBS telethon for the dude! “Landon's ability not to bone women who look like they came from the pages of [i]Animal Farm[/i] is made possible by a corporate sponsorship and generous donations from viewers like you.” My heart goes out to you, Landon! No one should ever be forced to shack up with Mister Ed. There are laws against that sorta thing, ya know. Except in Missouri. Just ask my Uncle Juan. I guess it is sorta cool to be the only one of my friends who has cousins that hatched from an egg. TAYLOR And Krista besides putting out a contract on my life, what would you do with five hundred thousand dollars? KRISTA I have five hundred thousand dollars, Terry. I can make that in less then a month. I am a fitness queen, a health and welfare consultant to only the brightest of shinning stars. I'm Madonna, I'm Cher, I'm Oprah, you don't even need the Isadora Duncan, just say the name Krista, and people will bow their heads at the very mention of royalty. ALIX And you tell the couples therapist I'm the one causing misery and nausea! KRISTA Until I manage to burn your condo in Phoenix to the ground, as you have done to me, I think “misery” is a fair assessment of what you bring to the relationship. ALIX Oh my god, that was like three weeks ago! Get over it! TAYLOR Girls, be nice to each other. Krista, you can get another condo but you can never get another Alix. KRISTA A fact that haunts my every waking hour. TAYLOR Krista, you aren't mad at Landon for accepting the Enterprise's despicable offer? KRISTA We're I, [i]People's[/i] sexiest woman, the kind of boorish, vulgar, alcohol consuming bitch who's prone to acts of anger, and known for her daily melodramatic fits of rage, perhaps I might have mapped out some kind of treacherous plan to have Landon's naked, beaten, bullet riddled body lobbed from the heights of the Golden Gate Bridge in response to attempting to advance his deader then Christian Wright's sex life career at the expense of my eightieth most treasured possession...no wait, eighty first, there's my Lita Ford albums, she's dreaaaamy. So, eighty second most value...no wait there's that dime I found at Dodger Stadium when I was twelve. Eighty third most valued possession. Yes definitely eighty third. Tied for eighty third at least. TAYLOR But you aren't that type of wom...goddess? KRISTA Don't patronize me. I [i]am[/i] that kind of girl, and I have made that kind of arrangement. But Landon Maddix will most likely avoid a savage and untimely death, sorry world, because I, and my ever so lovely partner, barring being struck by lightening when we're in the ring, can't be beaten by Landon. ALIX No way, Krissy! Lightening could never, ever, ever help Landon! Because probably after we get charred to a crisp, a gust of wind would come through, and sweep up our ashes and some of 'em would probably get stuck in Landon's throat, and he'd choke to death on our ashes and that's sorta, kinda, a submission victory. KRISTA Okay, what if the ghost of my sister's goldfish that I flushed down the toilet as an April fools joke when I was four, finally gets it's karmic revenge on me and drops an ice cream truck from the heaven's right on top of us? ALIX Now that's just stupid, Krissy. The centrifugal force, big word, heard Lauren say it on [i]The Hills[/i] this week on MTV, she's such a slut, would cause all the delicious snack treats, the Choco Tacos, the Creamsiscles, the Ice Tickles, the Klondike Bars, to topple out of the back of the truck, pinning Landon underneath their tasty weight, leading to a double count out! KRISTA Wow, Landon, you're even worse off then I thought, when a physical impossibility can't save your ass! Straight up and down like six o'clock, Terry Taylor, Landon Maddix is gonna get the everlasting shit stomped out of him. Pourquoi, Mademoiselle Duncan? Because of his nickname, La Cucaracha. What does Cucaracha sound like to you? It sounds like cockroach. And what do you do to a cockroach? ALIX Hehehehheheh. You said cock. I could think of a really nasty, but very funny joke to tell, but because I'd rather not be kicked out of the house anytime soon, I'm gonna keep these lips ziplocked. KRISTA Smart girl. Now, if you're from somewhere in Africa the cockroach is considered a snack and you'll probably eat it. But if you're from Africa there's a better then sixty percent chance you have AIDs, you may have malaria, your country may be torn apart by unending ethnic and tribal warfare, your average income may never exceed more then two hundred dollars a year, your educational pursuits may never extend past the age of eleven, and the only time the white capitalist oppressors ever think of you is when they have to buy a blood diamond for the two dollar whore they're cheating on their pregnant wife with. So go ahead and enjoy your Anthropoda Insectas, Africa, while greedy whitemen like Theodore Moneymaker, feast upon the billions and billions of dollars earned off the blood of your murdered children. You've earned it, dudes! ALIX You're just the cutest widdle thing when you're getting butthurt about people you'll never meet! KRISTA But in America, the land of apple pie and pop starlets that make Alix look sane and well adjusted..... ALIX Get well soon, Britney! KRISTA (cont) We squash cockroaches, and that, dear Terrence, is precisely what will happen to The Enterprise's puppet, the so called savior of the oaoast, the former SWF world champion, the current SWF tag team champion, Landon Maddix. And as for Todd, Alix, sweetheart, what do we to people named Cortez? ALIX Deport them or pay them less then minimum wage to work as dishwashers in California Pizza Kitchen's across the country? KRISTA Unfortunately. But that's a rant for another day. Todd, I don't know what Leon Rodez, has in store for you, but what I see in your immediate future is a massive amount of pain and discomfort and a long drawn out war with the Blue Cross insurance company over whether or not they'll pay for the surgery to remove this Moet bottle from your ass. Sincerely, your's in Christ, Krista Isadora Duncan. TAYLOR Girls, thank you very much for your thoughts, and as always for your kindness and respect. Fans, when we return it's Maddix and Cortez against Chicks Over Dicks for the oaoast world tag team titles. [B]COMMERCIAL BREAK[/B] When we return from break, we're shown an image of a young, bearded Arab man, in a Ryan Smyth [color="#0000FF"][b]Edmonton[/b][/color] [b][color="#FF8C00"]Oilers[/color][/b] hockey jersey standing in front of an oaoast Anglemania banner. Astute viewers will remember him as Abdullah Abir Nerdly, adopted brother of Marvin, Melvin, and Melody Nerdly. They'll also remember that he got the crap kicked out of him by 24/7 champion, Bohemoth last week and Patty LOLed tremendously at his beating. However the hasn't turned Abir Nerdly off the of the oaoast and he's poised to speak on matters. ABDULLAH ABIR NERDLY (ranting and raving, spit flying from his mouth, eyes wide, housing a look of pure righteous insanity) مذنبون والسفيه. العالم ريكونيزي التي يجب برعشيت ويموت يموت يموت يموت :firing: Bohemoth يموت يموت قيمة المتشردون قتلهأن يأتي الخير من بلدي. كانت نابعه من24/7[img=http://community.allhiphop.com/images/smilies/zx11pissed.gif] صميم الروح ، روح القلب :firing: oaoast ، وانه لا يمكن وقفه. لا كلباتNerdly لا المعازقAnglemania ليس من المال أو القوة. فقط عندما اقول انه سيوقف. ليس هناك سوى القتل والموت لاولئكاسرتي بيتي عندما يموت يموت لي حرق وجه HeldDOWN :ph34r: الاستغلال لكم فقط اختبار الذين oaoast :stupid: يرغبون في الوقوف ضدي!!أنت :angry: م حمقى لا يعرفون ما انا قادر! بلدي كبير سلطة ديستوري Anglemania منك!Nerdly لا يستطيع احد ان يمنعني! القتل! القتل! القتل! زاك ماليبو أنت الميت! دريك الحجارة أنت الميت! مشروع أنت الميت! عبير عبد الله! Anglemania! :cheers: YOU THE READER [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/thef.jpg] (We return to sofa central where the announce team is just as confused and mystified by Abdullah's words as everyone else) COLE Something about, Anglemania, maybe, I just...not all that certain. But he sounds enthusiastic, that's for sure! COACH I think he was saying he'd rather nail a post-op tranny then watch Anglemania. “The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice” from Abdullah Abir Nerdly's mouth straight to your ears. COLE What does the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice have to do with post....I can't believe I'm about to even dignify your homophobic comments with a response. Grow up, Coachman. LEON RODEZ Maybe he gave advice on taint tinting. “Taint tinters are lost and foolish souls. If your partner can't love your anus for who it is, then you are in an unhealthy relationship.” Agreed one hundred percent Abdullah Abir Nerdly, been preaching that for years. COLE Well, folks, on that fantastic and classy note, I guess I ought to mention we're joined by Leon Rodez for this upcoming oaoast tag title match between Landon Maddix and Todd Cortez and champions, Chicks Over Dicks. These are four people you have had various, uh, issues with, for lack of a better word, over various points of time. But tonight it will most likely be Todd Cortez, your possible Anglemania opponent, and not your ex-girlfriend, Alix Spezia, who captures your attention. [color="#483D8B"][i][b]REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH[/b][/i][/color] Marylin Manson's decadent industrial-glam take on Depeche Mode's [i]Personal Jesus[/i] booms to life, bringing with it an army of boos and jeers. From the parting entrance doors steps Landon Maddix, an unusual glow wafting from his body, no doubt spurred on by his fantastic deal with the devil. His arms extend to his side, a pose of arrogant triumph in the face of the venom that swells around him. Standing behind him is Todd Cortez, a stewing mixture of frustration an annoyance. What he's so mad about, no one knows. He's just an angry dude, I guess. At Landon's side is his ever present lady love, Megan Skye, an unfortunate victim of a few slut chants from drunks near the entrance stage. BUFFER The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall with a televised time limit of forty minutes and it is for the oaoast tag team titles. First, from Hollywood Boulevard... weighing in at two hundred and twenty six pounds... "THE URBAN LEGEND" TTOOOOOOOOODD CCOOOOOOORRRRTTEEEEEZZZZZZ!! His partner, being accompanied by MEGAN SKYE! Hailing from Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain... he weighs two hundred, eight pounds., he is one half of the SWF tag team champions, LLLAAAAAAANNDDOOOOOOOONN "LA CUCARACHA" MMMMAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIXXXXXX!!! COLE The Enterprise never fails to disgust me. They've somehow decided that performing at Anglemania and actually wrestling for the belts is “well bellow their stature in the community”, “unwise given their position.” So they're trying to use their wealth to facilitate the purchase of the belts, first through Alix Spezia and now with an arrangement with Landon Maddix. Terrible and disgraceful. Leon what do you think of Moneymaker's deal with Landon? RODEZ Personally, I think the deal is dumbest thing I've heard in my life, and try to remember where I've worked the past three years. I guest commentated for the Anderson Cup final and it was a great match, but if you're going to try and circumvent what makes a championship a championship, just so you can gain some kind of messed up “dominance” within the oaoast, like The Enterprise is doing, then you should've let someone else take your spot in the Anderson Cup final. If the deal goes down as Moneymaker intends it will basically make a mockery out of an entire division. But, I guess money talks. It's a sweet deal for Maddix, but you'd never see me bite on that offer. COLE Either way this is a very impressive matchup, Landon and Todd Cortez were once SWF tag team champions, and Landon is a current SWF tag team champion and has the held the belts four times in total. If anyone can execute Moneymaker's masterplan it has to be him. Wearing a sleeveless intricately embroidered leather jacket over his half red, half yellow spandex shorts, Landon preens and primps his way down the entry aisle. The incredibly arrogant superstar comes off as a reincarnation of Gorgeous George, infuriating everyone he passes with his self obsessed behavior. Cortez is instantly distracted from proceedings by the presence of his archenemy, Leon Rodez. Despite some half hearted pleadings from Megan for focus, The Urban Legend is unable to take his eyes off Rodez; and The Silky Smooth one feels quite the same about him. The tense stare down is only heightened by the incredible amount of threats spewing from Todd Cortez's mouth. RODEZ Keep running that mouth, Todd. I'm gonna remember everything you're saying. And all those comments and insults are just going to make it that much sweeter when I beat you down at Anglemania. Within seconds Leon's threatening words give way to a more positive sonnet.... [i][font="Arial Black"][color="#FF00FF"]Hey, hey, you, you I don't like your girlfriend! No way, no way! I think you need a new one Hey, hey, you, you I could be your girlfriend! Hey, hey, you, you! I know that you like me! No way, no way! No, it's not a secret Hey, hey, you, you!! I want to be your girlfriend![/color][/font][/i] The infectious bounce that characterizes Avril Lavigne's top 40 track [i]Girlfriend[/i] fills the arena with peppy brilliance, and draws a gargantuan amount of cheers from the now standing audience. As [color="#FF00FF"][b]pink[/b][/color] lights flicker illumination at the entrance stage, chants of “C-O-D” are already the order of the day for many fans. A [color="#FF00FF"][b]pink[/b][/color] pyro waterfall rains from the ceiling, connecting with a [b][color="#FF0000"]red[/color][/b] pyro fountain, both beautiful displays sprinkling the entrance way with shimmering sparks. Once the pairing subsides, a [b][color="#FFFF00"]golden[/color][/b] pyro wall engulfs the stage with it's tremendous size, leaving behind a thick haze of simmering smoke in it's wake. Through the build up of smoke appears the gorgeous image of Krista Isadora Duncan. The viscous vixen is attired much differently then usual, looking like she's attending a costume party in a red Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim baseball hat, matching jersey, and short red micro skirt. COACH Oh mama, talk about a California Angel! Or is it a Los Angeles Angel? Or an Anaheim Angel? Or Los Angeles Anaheim of Angel...er...Angel of Los Anaheim...crap! In Kris' possession sits an aluminum baseball bat, which she mischievously bangs against her hands, letting her rivals know she has no issues with using the dangerous weaponry should the situation call for it. Alix, strangely wearing the exact same casual prep attire she had on for the interview, skips from the open entrance doors, preparing to whip the audience into a frenzy. But Krista uses her baseball bat as an impassable obstacle, halting Alix in her tracks. With Alix temporally subdued, Krista brings the bat over her head and gently slides the cold metal down her back, before using the tool to vigorously thrust Alix into her arms. Ally turns over her shoulders, brushes a strand of her brown locks out her face, and tosses a bewitching kiss to the camera, causing cute super imposed [color="#FF0000"][b]red[/b][/color] lips to pop on the screen. COACH Yo, any fool that was hookin' up with Alix, then throws that away is some kind of got damned moron. Am I right, fellas? I'm glad no one out here is stupid enough to break up with a chick that hot. And she's loaded 'cause of her cookie company. You'd never have to work again if you were dating her. A man would either have to be gay, and idiot, or both to break up with Alix. Right, Leon? BUFFER And the champions.... “C-O-D! C-O-D! C-O-D!” BUFFER .....first, from Los Angeles, California, she is two time twenty four seven champion, the CEO of Mrs.Spezia's sweeties, The Hollywood Bad Girl, ALIX MARIA SPEZIA! And her partner, from Los Angeles, California, she is a best selling author, a fitness queen, and star of the world famous FIT with KID line of exercise videos, she is Miss California Krista Isaodra Duncan! Together they are three time OAOAST world tag team champions, America's Sweethearts, and Hollywood “It” Girls, Chicks Over Dicks! COACH This song, this song, this song. It reminds of something, or someone. Someone very close to me, as in right next to me. Leon Rodez! But why would this song, titled [i]Girlfriend[/i], remind me of Leon Rodez? Oh wait that's right, Alix Spezia used to your girlfriend, until you turned on her for a title you don't even have anymore. But that was a year ago, who cares? You've got a big Anglemania match coming up. Oh wait, you're not medically cleared to fight! At least you can still look forward to a big paycheck when you can wrestle. Oh wait, you're gonna be working for free because you missed Anglemania. My bad, dawg! I'm sure Alix could use a janitor or something at Miss Spezia Sweetie's. RODEZ Athirtynineyearoldvirginsayswhat? COACH What? RODEZ Exactly. Acting on the sharply stated orders of SWF Clusterfuck winner, Landon Maddix, Todd Cortez pounces upon the reigning oaoast tag team champions as they enter the ring. Unfortunately for Mister Cortez, his oh-so wonderful partner neglected to do the same, thus Todd is working under a dire numbers disadvantage. Though he could most likely handle two people the size of Ally and Krissy, he's not afforded the chance to prove this fact, thanks to Alix lowering the ropes and toppling his charging frame to the outside. She's follows the disposed Legend out of the ring, leaving Krista and Landon to officially start this contest. [B]DING DING DING[/B] Maddix finally shows some competitive spirit, striking Krista in her stomach with a quick forearm. The move stuns Krista and allows Maddix to take a firm grip of her flowing blond hair. He leads her to the edge of the ring then roughly hurls her over the cables! His arms instantly raise in celebration at the easy elimination of the champion. But he finds out he celebrated much too soon, as Krista skins the cat and laces her tan legs around his skinny neck. The South Dakota native brings her into the ring, thinking he can smash her into the canvas with a modified powerbomb. But the idea encounters unmitigated failure, and she pulls him down with a spinning head scissors! Tossing strands of sun colored locks out of her face with one hand, she uses the other to bring Maddix off the mat. The world famous fitness queen then chucks Landon to a neutral corner where his back endures the typically gruesome meeting with the poorly padded ring posts. As he bemoans his bum luck, the former Guns N Roses dancer backflips towards him. Upon reaching the four time SWF tag team champ, she extends her body backwards and slams her elbow into the side of his face. Momentum alone carries the foxy mama lunging over the top rope and onto the ring apron. She watches Landon stumble out of the corner, trying and failing to get a bead on her with his watery eyes. He's soon exposed to her troubling whereabouts when he witnesses her soaring through the sky with a spring board body splash. Reacting at the last possible moment, the Madrid born cruiserweight leaps into a spinning wheel kick counter. But the super intelligent Krista is several steps ahead of him and extends those lovely legs into a dropkick that terrorizes his otherwise handsome face and pushes him to the mat. “KRISTA! KRISTA! KRISTA!” scream the audience. Landon jumps to his feet, clutching his aggrieved face. With his free arm he lobs a lariat towards his enemy. But the slow moving nature of the strike permits Miss California to duck beneath it. She returns fire with a lariat of her own, which Landon counters by ducking as well. He ends the short parade of clotheslines by grabbing both her arms between his in a rear underhook so that her back leans against his back. Yet that hold stays locked in for no more then five seconds before Krissy uses her amazing quickness to flip backwards and land in front of the former SWF world champion. Fueled by a feral rage, the former fitness model horsewhips her shoe into his gut. As Maddix stands stunned and confused she takes to the sky, morphing her body into a blur of red, white, and yellow motion. She uncoils her svelte figure to shoot a foot into Landon's face, bowling him over with a tornado kick. “YEAAAAAAAA!” KID bats Landon down with a second dropkick, but he amazingly rises to gets to his feet before she does. Suddenly finding herself within a vulnerable position, the blond bombshell is forced to think fast lest she be on the wrong side of a harsh beating. As the twenty three year old nears her, she tilts her body back and tangles her ankles around his head. Landon grabs onto her shins, certain that he can simply toss her aside. How wrong he is! Krista begins twirling both their bodies like a merry-go-ground, while her's floats in the air, and her arms are extended like wings. After several seconds of nausea inducing torment, Maddix is flung to the beige canvas when KID twists on her ankles. And how does the hottest thing in West LA celebrate her besting of La Cucaracha? By leaning over the ropes and putting on expression of alluring enticement to the wealth of fans snapping her picture with their camera phones. Perhaps this moment of arrogance was ill advised for the Revlon covergirl as Maddix has taken time to recover and is zipping towards her with a larait. Thanks to a timely warning of look out from an audience member, Krista turns around just in time to sweep bellow the oncoming strike. Now behind Landon she uses her advantageous position to her..uh..advantage and hooks onto his attacking arm with a half nelson. Maddix's face lights up with terror as the crowd roars it's approval for her fortcoming attack. Krissy quinches their thirst for violence, when she shoots her body forward and smashes his face into the rock hard floor with a half nelson face crusher. RODEZ I think Maddix is gonna need a pinch hitter, because he's striking out tonight against Krista. Is that the right term? Pinch hitter? Not a baseball man. I'm a hunting kind of guy. COLE I never would've thought that. What do you hunt? RODEZ The most dangerous game of all. Human beings. Despite the obvious pain he's under, Landon rises just as quickly as he feel, reading his arm to blast the fan favorite with a lariat. Yet, Krista defeats his plan by leaping forward and twisting her legs around his neck. She peels backwards to curse him with another hurricanarana, this time holding onto his legs for a pin. Referee Charlie Robinson scores the fall. ONE TWO Maddix shoots his shoulder off the mat, and soon his entire body follows. He's given no chance to mount any sort of attack however, as the golden haired babe flips him over with a deep arm drag. The former SWF world champion tries to scurry away from his rival, but an arm lock traps him in place. While Maddix tries in vain to squirm his way free, the audience claps for Krista's show of technique. Krista wrenches and cranks on his wounded limb, humming the theme song to the hit TV show [i]M*A*S*H[/i] for no real apparent reason. Maddix, a firm believer that [i]M*A*S*H[/i] was supremely overrated, drags his carcass to his feet to strike Krista down for her poor taste in classic television. However Krista prevents any harm from befalling her by turning her armlock into a simple arm wrench. While Maddix whines in frustration, Krista glides the pair over towards Ally. She extends her Adidas snow boot to Alix, and waits for a tag. Unfortunately Alix isn't able to comprehend the use of the foot instead of the hand for a tag. “Gross! I don't have a foot fetish! Ewww!” Alix snaps in revulsion. “Shut up and tag me, dummy” Krista screams, blood pressure soaring so high it could reach the moon. So Alix tags in Krista and enters the ring to a massive pop from the capacity crowd. The girls pair up on Huron's favorite son, each taking an arm and thrusting him to the ropes. Cortez tries for a blind tag, but his movement is far too slow, and Maddix is locked into a one way collision course with the oaoast tag team champions. They each smash a pair of elbows into his midsection. Not the most dangerous of moves, but damaging enough that they're able to snapmare him to the ground. His gaze peers towards the ceiling, catching the scoreboard, lights, rafters, banners. What it doesn't see is Chicks Over Dicks. That's because the California girls have taken off to opposite directions towards the ring ropes. As they near their fallen foe, they act in unison each cartwheeling to the detested grappler. Krista extends her body into a 450 splash, while Alix rotates her's through a shooting star press. Their landing is gruesome and painful for poor Landon who hollers out in pain. But for the audience, it's just another reason to chant “C-O-D! C-O-D!” Ally and Krista celebrate their triumph by becoming the world's cutest Led Zepplin cover band, and rocking out to [i]Stairway to Heaven[/i]. Alix takes on the role of Jimmy Page, slamming on the air guitar, while Krista, the one who has a voice not akin to nails on a chalkboard, plays Robert Plant, belting symphonic vocals. RODEZ(singing) Aaaaaaand she's buyyyying a stairway to heaven. COACH You weren't even alive when that song was released. As Krista scurries out of the ring, her “bandmate” hooks Maddix's leg for the pinfall. Robinson administers the count. UNO DOS But Maddix pops his arm off the mat, ending the pinfall. The self proclaimed savior of the oaoast leaps to his feet, sick of being dropkicked and hurricanraned, and ready to tag his ally, Todd Cortez into the fray. However he can scarcely take a single step towards Cortez before Alix whips him overhead with an arm drag. Using some technical wrestling know-how, Landon tries to shift her downwards after he hits the mat himself. But the adorable heroine places her hand against the floor and springs away from her vexed rival. Unfortunately she puts herself right near Megan's location, and the short haired blond has little qualms with reaching into the squared circle and tripping Alix to the canvas. The audience is livid with the display of poor sportwomanship and taunt Megan with chants of “MEGAN DOES CREAMPIES” and if you don't know what a creampie is, oh man are you the luckiest person ever. COLE Leon would you mind if I got your opinion on Theodore Moneymaker and The Enterprise? RODEZ I don't like to put beef on the streets, OG, and I've never had to personally deal with Moneymaker or Mackenzie, but I know Ned, Simon and I hate me some Christian Wright. Behind all their money and sophistication lies a bunch of thuggish brutes, and I'd never want myself or anyone I know to have to deal with them. I'm not an angry guy, but the blood gets to boilin' when I think about 'em. Ally heads to her feet, eager to serve a helping of punishment to the meddling valet. But Maddix denies the horny crowd their sought after cat fight, and topples Alix with a running dropkick. Perfectly satisfied with his lone offensive attack, he applies the tag to Todd Cortez. COACH Here comes your best buddy, Leon! RODEZ Yeah right. Last year around this time, I had everything going for me in the oaoast, I was in a title hunt I had loads of fans, and a good position in the company. Then Todd Cortez and crew came in and everything started to spiral into hell. They tried to destroy my life and leave me with nothing. They went far, but they didn't go far enough, because I've come back, and I'm gunning for Cortez. “LET'S GO ALIX! LET'S GO ALIX!” sing the onlookers. Cortez accosts The Hollywood Bad Girl, who's still feeling the ill affects of the dropkick, and sucks her into a tight front facelock. Moving in one fluid motion he flings her backwards and crushes her into the canvas with a snap suplex. Todd floats over and drapes his body across her's for a pinfall. Robinson applies the count... ONE TWO Alix kicks out well before the three, earning quite the pop from the sold out arena. Besieged with frustration over the escape, The Urban Legend mounts his rival and begins raining a downpour of closed fists into her face. He keeps drilling and drilling, until his blows gusher a gyeser of tortured screams from the helpless maiden. The fans are quick to jump on Todd's case, pelting him with a number of insults. Maddix tries his best to silence their profane mouthes, but is countered with a round of taunts of his own. Todd ignores the war of words between his partner and the audience and coils his arms around Alix's slender waist for standing head scissors. He foists her into the air, draping her lithe body across his broad shoulders in position for a dominator. That move would be infinitiley more preferable to the mode of attack Cortez actually executes. He charges across the ring, eyeing down a neutral corner, then bulldozes Alix's back into the callous ring post. A heart wrenching scream escapes her throat immediately upon impact, and salty tears fill her eyes. Krista is barely able to control herself, threatening Todd with every manner of violent act she can think of. The audience treats him none to kindly, booing his viscous attack. In fact the only two people who seem pleased with it are Landon and Megan. COACH Hahahah! If Todd does that to you, Rodez, I foresee another three or four months on the injured reverse. What do you say that, Lee-Lee? RODEZ I see what you're trying to do, Coach, you're trying to get me angry. Once again, I don't get angry, I get even. When I sneak into your hotel room tonight and put Nair on your pubic hair, you'll see evidence of this. And if Todd thinks he's going to put me out of action twice, then he's in for a whole bunch of painful surprises. With Alix impaled upon the ringpost, Cortez retreats to the center of the squared in order to gain a head of steam. Emitting a low growl, The Urban Legend rumbles towards The Hollywood Bad Girl. When he nears his rival he takes to the skies and impacts his knees into her stomach. Ally screams at the top of her lungs, as the aftermath of the strike sinks her quivering body to the mat. TC affords her little time to recover, however, and explodes a running body splash onto her ample chest. The move results in a pinfall, which is counted by C-Rob. ONE TWO A kickout comes shortly before the three, leading Cortez to damn Alix for her resiliency. The Urban Legend makes the tag with his left hand to Maddix, while his right takes a clump of Ally's hair and drags her to her feet. Cortez then drapes her horizontally across his shoulders, causing a dreadful buzz to emanate from the stands. The spectator's fears for Alix's safety turn out to be well founded; Landon leaps from a perch on the third cable and slices his leg through the culinary sensation's neck. Alix topples from Cortez's shoulders, and her head crunches into the canvas in a most gruesome fashion. The current SWF tag team champion, ushers his beltless partner out of the ring, so that he may defeat Alix by his lonesome. He signifies his moment of triumph (and the cash he's about to pocket as a result), by performing the infamous Moneymaker “money fingers”. It's a gesture that acquires it's fair share of heat from the staunchly pro COD crowd. COLE Do you think Todd knows that his partner has sold him out like a selfish rat? RODEZ Todd's mental and physical welfare isn't on my list of top concerns, for obvious reasons, but if we ever find Maddix being wheeled out of here in a bodybag we know who to point the finger at. Landon takes Alix by the arm and roughly drags her to her feet; he wrings the limb of the dazed diva so harshly that it snaps her out of her foggy haze, and forces her to rebel against his clutches. But his master plan is already set in motion, and a swift elbow to her midsection shows that he's unable to be stopped. Landon lifts his skinny leg over her arm, straddling it. She tries her damnedest to pull away but meets with zero success. He shoots his far leg upwards in a quick motion that's only stopped when his boot connects with her jaw. Upon impact she tumbles backwards to the mat, stricken with searing anguish. Her soft brown hair tangles with perspiration in front of her forehead, and a stinging mixture of tears and sweat roll down her cheeks. “¡Buenas Noches!” Landon bellows, announcing the name of the preceeding signature move. “YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!” chants the crowd. Landon ignores the hatred for the time being and attempts another pin. ONE “One hundred thousand!” He screams, dollar signs all but flashing through his eyes. TWO “Two hundred thousand!” There will be no three or three hundred thousand, as Ally kicks out of the fall, drawing a sigh of relief from the audience as well as Krista. COACH Maddix was half a second away from a guaranteed world title match, a spot at Anglemania, and five hundred thousand dollars! RODEZ If he hadn't wasted time with that “¡Buenas Noches!” junk, he'd have a lot fatter wallet right about now. But if he finds himself off Anglemania and in the poor house, he can look back to that exact moment in time to see what put him there. Maddix rises to his feet, once again posturing his hand into the money fingers symbol. Yet this time he appears much less arrogant and self assured, almost as if he's starting to feel like his five hundred thousand dollars are floating in a toilet, waiting for someone to slam the flusher. But he brushes aside his misgivings and hammers Ally with a series of stomps, before lifting her up and shooting her towards the ropes. Upon her return, Maddix dips low and slides forward, causing her to trip onto his shoulders. Without so much as bothering to secure her properly, he dives backwards and crunches her through the canvas with a samoan drop. He leans backwards for a lackadaisical pinfall, lightly draping his arm along Alix's collarbone. The referee counts the fall, slamming has hand down next to Alix's whimpering face. ONE TWO But Ally gets her shoulder off the mat, drawing a huge cheer from the fans, and keeping Landon from his guaranteed world title shot for the time being. RODEZ His refusal to do something as simple as use a proper pinfall robbed him of five hundred thousand dollars. You'd think for half a mil and a guaranteed world title shot the guy would hook one of those, smooth, flawless, sexy, tantalizing, kissable....uh, sorry, got lost in my thoughts. COLE The SWF tag team champion has to move quickly if he wants the victory and all the prizes that come with it. La cucaican'tspellthatnickname, as if reading Cole's mind, targets a stiff stomp into the small of The Hollywood Bad Girl's back. A soft yelp is pulled from her pink lips, and Landon brings her to her feet by her lovely hair. Displaying the kind of excellent courtesy that can only be taught at a South Dakota, grammar school, Mister Maddix kindly introduces Miss Spezia to the nearest turnbuckle. As Alix screams in misery, and reaches out for a tag that's never coming, Maddix slashes his black boot against her spine. He then turns the oaoast tag team champion around so that she lies back first against the corner pads. On the outside a little girl screams pleas towards Landon, begging him not to harm her hero. But Landon has five hundred thousand good reasons to crush this girls' dream, thus he ignores her appeals for mercy. He thrusts a lariat into Alix's neck, leaving her hacking and wheezing like a asthma sufferer. Barley able to breathe, she's powerless to stop the Spanish born grappler as he picks her up and sits her atop the third turnbuckle. “LET'S GO ALIX! LET'S GO ALIX!” Maddix positions himself upon the second rope, applying a front facelock when he's certain he's sufficiently balanced. Maddix begins arching backwards in order to pull The Hollywood Bad Girl off the ropes and end this stressing contest once and for all. Ally, however, hooks those legs Leon was obsessing over earlier underneath the top rope and holds on for dear life. Landon is unmoved by his rival's refusal to surrender and makes a second attempt for that superplex. Again the fan favorite remains planted on the top rope. Aggravated to no end, Maddix releases the hold and vents his frustration by slogging vulgarities at anyone who will listen. Unfortunately his timeout to curse out is paid with a heavy price, namely Alix shoving him off the second rope and onto the canvas bellow! Her grey eyes lock down upon her fallen foe, narrowing into sinister slits. With vengeance on her mind she rises to her tiny but deadly five foot eight vertical base. The audience lights up with wild anticipation for Alix's forthcoming attack. RODEZ Ally standing on the top rope, and I know from first hand experience, that is one girl who likes to get high. Alix sucks down a deep breath, then springs from her perch. The once busy world seems to decay into slow motion as she kicks her legs out, and scrunches her body into cannonball position. She falls forward with graceful lethality, her back flat, looking to land hard on the wounded body of the SWF tag team champion. She and the roaring audience are ready for her to nail her diving senton, knock the wind out of the annoying grappler, and pick up another successful title defense..... Unfortunately, Maddix moves. “BOOOOOOO!” sear the oaoast faithful. Alix lies on the mat a broken heap of bones, trying to alternately nurse her back and ribs. She writhes in supreme anguish, unable to do anything except convulse and weep. Krista urges her to mount some manner of attack, not so much as to protect the titles, but to preserve her own safety in face of these relentless hounds. COACH It looks like Maddix might be able to become the half million dollar man after all! But after that crash and burn Alix is going to need a rub down. Rodez, you blew your shot, chump, now the Coach gets to step up to the plate. RODEZ Be sure to sleep with one eye open, Coach. Positively spooked by that near defeat experience, Maddix decides he's had his share of Alix Spezia for the moment, and tags Todd Cortez back into the affair. The Urban Legend picks up where his associate left out, hammering Alix with a deadly array of stomps. He pauses to glare towards the referee who's demanding that he ease up on poor Alix. The battered champion takes the moments spat to stagger her to her feet. Cortez instantly eyes her rise and leaves Robinson alone to deal with his foe. He makes moves to lift her into his infamous Neckwrecker. The audience boos lustily, knowing full well the hold could end the contest all on it's own. But Alix's thrashes and flails against his clutches, refusing to be brought up for the devastating move. Thus, Todd is forced to resort to plan B. He clasps his hand around her neck and hauls her body into the air with great ease. He pauses for several moments, showcasing his beautiful victim to the wrathful fans; then pummels her with the Urban Assault (sitout chokeslam bomb). While the ring vibrates from the tremendous impact, Charlie Robinson counts the ensuing pinfall. ONE “We're rich! We're rich!” Landon bleats on the apron. TWO “Your new oaoast world champion....LANDON MADDIX!” He screams, visions of parades in his honor flowing down the streets of Huron, South Dakota and Madrid, Spain filling his mind. THREE! No, Alix kicks out, causing Landon to tailspin into a state of hysteria. He leaps up and down on the ring apron, screaming bloody murder over this perceived injustice. Even Megan is forced to look away in embarrassment at his lunatic behavior. Fortunately for the former SWF world champion, his partner remains a much more calming force. He grabs onto the waist of Alix's teeny, tiny booty shorts, and pulls her towards the center of the ring. He circles one arm around her neck, then attaches his around her head, fully applying the dreaded sleeper hold. The audience is kneely aware that this simple hold could be the death kneel of Chicks Over Dicks title reign, and takes up the rallying cry of “ALIX! ALIX! ALIX!” COACH This could be it! RODEZ Don't be crazy, Coach, give my girlfrie....I mean Alix some more credit then that. I remember times when I'd be beating her ass at Scrabble, and then BAM, all of sudden she throws out a word like caterwauling, triple word score, game over. Alix staggers to the ring cables, while Cortez tries to drag her to the canvas. But he quickly comes to realize merely pushing the feisty lass down won't do the trick, and tries to fall backwards in order to snare her into an inescapable body scissors. Alix makes a frantic bid for the tope rope, using it's superior strength to prevent Todd from sucking her into the depths of submission hell. But, Cortez is unyielding and stubbornly pursues his effort. But The Hollywood Bad Girl's continued resistance provides him little hope that he'll have any success, and thus, Cortez is forced to abandon all efforts and simply pull her towards the center of the ring- Unfortunately for him, the bubbly babe uses a supernatural burst of energy to sprint their bodies towards the turnbuckle. The crowd's chants of “ALIX!” are cranked up in volume as their favorite lady runs up the cornerpost. She touches the bottom one, then elevates to the second, using it a launching pad to vault off the top with a picture perfect back flip! White fireworks of camera flashes dance across the stands, as Ally Cat soars through the sky, totally free of Cortez' clutches. Upon landing, she wastes little time in making the most of her freedom and applies the long awaited tag to Miss California, Krista Isadora Duncan. The audience erupts with blaring cheers, sending tremors of sound pumping through every nook and cranny of the arena. “KRISTA! KRISTA! KRISTA!” RODEZ Yikes, I hope Krissy remembers to leave some of Cortez for me. COLE I didn't know you were allowed to call her Krissy. RODEZ Yeaaaah, just keep that one between us girls. Ever the bold one, Todd meets Krista head on, not at all intimidated by her resume as three time tag team champion. Unfortunately his dauntless attitude does little to help him survive the wrath of the crazed fitness queen and she pumps a right jab into his chin. A left comes grazing across his cheek, preceeding a right that strikes expertly onto his left eye. Left partially blinded and confused, The Urban Legend is reduced to an Urban also-ran and stumbles to and fro like a drunk after happy hour. Krista takes his moment's misery as the perfect time to admire her unmatched beauty. She pulls a compact mirror from her top, then flips it open to admire her traffic stopping looks. Finally she plants a kiss onto her angelic reflection, then chucks the mirror into the stands where the frenzied audience battles for ownership. Miss California then turns her attention back towards Todd and plants him on the mat with a leg lariat! While he fights a losing battle to stand up and carry on the fight, his enemy carts herself to the ropes. But instead of running back like any normal person would, Krista decides to further belittle poor Cortez, by salsa dancing towards him. Her curvaceous hips gyrate in steamy allurement, while her arms wiggle through a pattern of mesmerizing euphoria. Unfortunately for Todd the end result of the taunting is far less sexy, as Krista drives the point of her knee into his forehead. While the audience salutes her seductive show, she hooks Todd's leg for a pin. CROWD ONE! CROWD TWO! But Maddix is there with an elbow drop to save his partner and his chance of becoming a future world champion. The crowd is none to thrilled with Landon's actions and slanders him with chants of, “YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!” “I do no such thing!” He snaps back, genuinely offended by their charge. He refocuses his attention on Krista, eyeing her with his beady orbs as she begins to rise to her feet. He pounces on her with a front facelock before she can make any sudden movements, then drifts her towards the sky with a vertical suplex. Krista, however, shimmies her body through his grasp, and manages to twist around so that her back is pointed towards his face. Before Landon knows what's what, she dives forward, collaring her arm around his neck, then sweetly impacting his head onto her shoulder with a stunner. Yet the crowd popping counter fails to floor the two time Clusterfuck winner and he roars towards her with a lariat. With the grace of an acrobrat, she leans back and plucks her boot into the sky with a capoeria inspired kick. The toe of the shoe slices into his chin with perfect aim; Maddix is dropped to canvas before he even knows that he's been hit. “KRISTA! KRISTA!” COACH Forget out of the park! That one knocked, Landon clear out of the state! Now entering the game in relief for his overwhelmed “friend”, is Todd Cortez. The Urban Legend hooks Krista into a rear waistlock then lifts her backwards to drop her into a bridged German Suplex! The count is made... ONE TWO Krissy kicks out, earning a massive cheer from the fans. Cortez directs a disbelieving glare at Robinson, holding up three trembling fingers. C-note holds up two, and even as an outraged Urban Legend slaps his hands together three times, Robinson fails to budge. Unable to convince the referee of his rightness, Cortez is required to do further damage to Krista in order to secure victory. He scrapes her body off the mat, then places into a standing fireman's carry. His desire is to cause even more damage to her neck with a death valley driver. But this is wish that will forever remain unfulfilled thanks to Miss California slipping out of his hold and landing on her feet. A swift kick to his midsection doubles the former SWF tag team champion over, and allows the viscous vixen to pull him down with a sunset flip! But Todd Cortez rolls through the pinning situation, and it is [i]Krista[/i] who is in severe danger of losing this match! ONE TWO Krista escapes the pinfall in the nick of time! [b]“YEAAAAAAA!”[/b] COLE That was too close! Maddix has recuperated from his earlier defeat well enough to greet Krista with a pair of forearm smashes when she rises. Having softened her up enough with those strikes, he moves on to more catastrophic moves, namely the deathly [b]Go 2 Sleep[/b]. Unlike his comrade in arms, however, Maddix can't even lift Krista into the fireman's carry position, thanks to her troubling tug on his hair. He demands that she let him go free, a request that she happily obliges, but only does so in order to clamp him down with an inverted facelock. Landon has zero wish to figure out what terrible attack has formed within his foe's twisted mind, and shoots a knee towards her head. The strike impacts with stunning percesion, and breaks the hold immediately upon arrival. Free from Kris' grasp, LM puts her into a front facelock, then grabs onto her bare right leg. He lifts her up, then brings her right back down into the simple yet effective bridged fisherman's suplex. Robinson counts the fall..... ONE TWO “Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids!” Alix screams as she dives onto Landon to break up the pinfall. “ALIX! ALIX! ALIX!” shout the audience. The strident interference jolts Maddix to his feet, where his menacing glare looks onto the woman who's kept him from his fortune. Unfortunately a nasty stare is all he's capable of hitting Alix with, as the ditzy diva tucks her head between his elbow, and locks her arms around his waist for the Northern Lights suplex. This time Ally adds a unique twist to the otherwise blasee hold, taking both competitors into the sky with a majestic backflip! The wonderful display of agility gleans a rousing ovation from the spectators and a whimper of distress by Maddix. Spurred on by the fan appreciation, and the moaning of her beleaguered rival, Ally decides that twice is just as nice and efforts a repeat of the same move. Maddix to go along with her plan and counters the hold with a basic DDT! [B]“BOOOOOO”[/B] Why is the audience booing? Is it because Maddix managed to counter their heroine? Is it because Megan has strangely made her way onto the ring apron to distract Robinson? Or is it because one half of the Anderson Cup champions, [color="#008080"][b]Christian Wright[/b][/color], is charging down the entry aisle, ubiquitous briefcase in tow. Though the anger is most likely a combination of all three issues, Wright's unwanted presence is the most troubling concern for the millions of COD fans world wide. RODEZ (standing up, almost as if he's going to prevent Wright from interfering) What's poindexter got on this? COACH Poindexter? The man is a financial guru, he could buy and sell you twenty times over. Have some respect for a modern day Rockefeller! RODEZ Hey, ashy skull, mind your mouth. When Wright nears the squared circle he tosses the brief case over the ropes, watching with delighted exhilaration as it lands sweetly in the hands of it's intended target Landon Maddix! A contorted evil grin corrupts Landon's face, as he views this simple case as the profound key to unlocking a treasure chest of riches and glory. His heart racing, his mind envisioning a high profile Anglemania match, Landon turns around to vanquish the COD members with his new found weapon. [color="#696969"][B]CRAAAAAAACK![/B][/color] [B]YEAAAAAAAA![/B] Cheers? Did eighteen thousand people all of a sudden decide to become Landon Maddix loyalists? Not on your life! The pumping ovation is for Krista Isadora Duncan, who just bludgeoned her opponent with her baseball bat, knocking his chances at fortune into the upper deck COLE Eat your heart out Vladimir Guerrero! With Wright's normally dark skin turned a shade of milky white and his body on the verge of fainting, Krista hooks her KO'ed rival's leg for the pivotal pinfall. At the urging of eighteen thousand screaming wrestling nerds, Charles Robinson turns away from a distraught Megan to score the fall. CROWD ONE CROWD TWO Cortez returns to break up the pinfall! But Alix mows him down with a dropsault! CROWD [color="#FF8C00"][B]THREE![/B][/color] And with that final count so erupts a monstrous outpouring of cheers and applause for the oaoast's two favorite ladies, the victorious, Chicks Over Dicks. Were Maddix actually conscious to be aware of the misfortune that just swept over him, a shout of “NOOOO!” might drown all other noises. But, alas his comatose husk only sits in serene silence, unaware of the misery it will wake up to. [i]Girlfriend[/i] returns to the audio forefront of the venue, as the legendary ring announcer rises to officially proclaim the winner. BUFFER Your winner and still oaoast world tag team champions....CHIIICKS OVEERRRR DIIICCCCKKS! Elsewhere Cortez, who has seemingly forgotten all about this loss, is leaning through the ropes lobbing vulgarities towards Leon Rodez. The Silky Smooth one simply directs a calm grin towards his enraged enemy, further angering The Urban Legend, who's itching for another fight. Back in the ring, Krista and Alix celebrate their victory in the most irresponsible way possible; they encourage front row audience members to “pitch” trash towards the ring, so Krista, still impersonating Vlad Guerreo, can blast the debris into the stands with her bat. Hello lawsuit! COLE Folks, a very exciting match and one with a great deal of repercussions. The Enterprise's scheme to purchase the tag titles, rather then compete for them at Anglemania, fails once more. But you can be sure Moneymaker and company are already on the look out for another team that can beat Chicks Over Dicks and grant their wish for easy tag title gold. Landon Maddix was promised the world, if he could deliver the belts to The Enterprise. But his mission went unaccomplished, and when it comes to Anglemania, he's on the outside looking in. RODEZ And he's out a guaranteed world title shot, and half a million dollars. Would love to say I feel sorry for the guy, but that would be a lie, and Leon Rodez ain't no liar, he's a bad mother... COACH Shut yo mouth! RODEZ I'm just talking 'bout shaft. COACH We can dig it! RODEZ Damn right. COLE Well, thanks once again to Leon Rodez for joining us out here tonight. We hope to see you at Anglemania, kicking Todd Cortez' BUTT. RODEZ My desire to not have to spend the rest of the year living in a box thanks to not collecting a single paycheck feels the exact same.

w/assist from Tony149. COLE Folks, the oaoast investigative bureau, dug into The Enterprise's video vault earlier this morning to unearth some interesting footage that was shot just one day ago. Let's take a look.... [B]RECORDED WENDESDAY THE 27TH[/B] The scene is [color="#0000FF"][b]Oceanwell[/b][/color], a three year old Miami restaurant, owned by the infamously wealthy Moneymaker family. The amazing South Beach stunner is renowned among wealthy Miami residents for it's cutting edge cusine, and food that sings a bright flurry of notes, each announcing that you have finally reached culinary shangri-la. Though the establishment would typically be loaded down with socialites debating over whether to get the tomato gazpacho or wild venison tataki, that is not the case tonight. It's sole patron is it's owner, Theodore Moneymaker, dressed for a fantastic occasion in a thousand dollar navy suit. Beside him resides his dutiful comrade, Christopher Patrick Allen, muscular physique uncomfortably crammed into a white button down shirt and a pair of black slacks. THEODORE MONEYMAKER She's late. Very late as a matter of fact. See, I wanted to send a car out for her, chauffeur her to this five star establishment, as any man of my stature might do for a beautiful guest. But no, that floozy has effectively been brainwashed by that out-of-touch wrench of a woman. I am woman, hear me roar. Pfft. I am Theodore Moneymaker, and you don't want to feel my wrath. To stand up a member of the Moneymaker clan up is to court a punishment worse then death. Hahahahahaha! CPA (patting Theodore on the shoulder) Right on, boss. Silence ensues when the sound of a car is heard in the background, screeching tires and all. A pink sports car pulls up in front of the restaurant.[/b] Several seconds later the front door swings open to reveal the guest of honor, Miss Alix Maria Spezia. Unlike her host and his lackey, Alix isn't exactly dressed for fine dinning establishment eating. Outfitted a dark grey Abercombie t-shirt that houses the number 31 in bright orange font, and short white shorts, she certainly does not fit the restaurant's high standards of dress. Theodore is scarcely able to brush aside his intense disgust for her lack of respect for his family's time honored dress code. ALIX SPEZIA Heeeeere's Allllly! Moneymaker puts on a sign of false humility and strides across the marble floor with head bowed in respect. He takes Alix's hand in a bowed embrace, which causes her to lick him....? Well, not her exactly but her Yorkshire Terrier. Yes, you read that right. Masking disgust, he moves to her other hand. A sharp pain instantly appears on his cheek followed by a soft trickle of blood. His eyes drift to find the cause of his wound, but they don't move far as a fluffy white kitten is staring him in the face. Theo tries has hardest to appear clam and relaxed while he address Alix over her unusual tag alongs. MONEYMAKER You, uh, brought your pets with you? ALIX A horse is a horse, of course, of course! A mommy should never leave her babies at home. This is my doggie Nikki (Alix grabs the dog's paw and makes it wave) He's waving at you! Isn't he just the cutest widdle thing? And this is his kitty Shayne. MONEYMAKER They are ador....wait, stop, your dog has a cat? ALIX It was a kawanza gift. Gawd, I was such a proud grandmommy when he rediscovered his West African roots at such a young age. (to CPA) Fight the power, all the way, right, brother? CPA B-) ALIX Yeah, right on! MONEYMAKER Is the cat a boy or a girl? ALIX We don't know, it hasn't really decided yet. I feel it's very important to allow gender identity to be a choice between feline, spirit, and possibly a pair of scissors and some band aids. MONEYMAKER Goodness, I thought I was the only one who felt that way! Christopher, my good man, why don't you attend to the pretty kitties? You know, have a little fun with them, if you know what I mean. CPA Loud and clear, boss. A sinister glee on his face, CPA takes Alix's pets into his arms. The animals have no wish to spend their time with the surly bruiser and desperately try to escape his clutches. CPA (to the pets) Be afraid of the big black man. Be very afraid. Heh heh heh. ALIX (mocking Moneymaker's trademark comic book villain laughter) Mwaaaahhaaaahha! MONEYMAKER (barely able to suppress his annoyance) Bring anymore of your stu-- I mean pets? ALIX Just Terry Taylor, but he can wait in the car. MONEYMAKER Far better accommodations then he deserves! With animal control situated, I think that introductions are in order! Aside from our unfortunate tussle at Mainframe Monday, I don't believe we have properly made each others acquaintance, I am very humbled to meet you... ALIX Woah, and I thought I had a crappy name! Very humbled to meet you? That name totally sucks! MONEYMAKER I agree. Thankfully it is not mine. I am Theodore Moneymaker, and I am humble tireless servant of a demanding and all too fickle public. The big guy over there is my personal debt collector and Enterprise Director of Security, Christopher Patrick Allen. CPA for short. And you, my beautiful starlet, are Alix Maria Spezia. I have admired you from a far for quite some time. I saw you at the Oscars on Sunday, and you were beyond stunning, a true picture of female brilliance. Dare I say you made Reese Witherspoon look like the decaying maggot filled corpse of the late Ava Gardner. ALIX That is like the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in the past twenty minutes! Yeah it was a killer time, except the whole not allowed within fifty feet of Jodie Foster by order of the California courts kinda put a damper on things. But I think with suitable brainwashing and mind altering drugs, she and I can become best of buds! MONEYMAKER What you hold in true in your heart will come true in reality, that's what I've always been told. ALIX That's funny, I was always told, if the waters blue it's for you, if it's yellow your in trouble! MONEYMAKER That could probably save you few bucks on laundry detergent, that much is for sure. Um, yes, I believe our chef, named chef of the year by the Miami Herald is almost done with dinner, perhaps we should take a seat so that we may get into the matters of the day? Moneymaker leads Alix to her seat, holding her chair out for her like a true gentlemen should. Unfortunately his moment of politeness comes to an involuntary halt when his cellphone rings. The consummate business man, Moneymaker pulls it from his coat pocket to answer the call. However his hyperactive guest, interjects herself, snatching the phone from his fingers and acting as his secretary for the night. ALIX (in a sultry voice) Hi, if you're eighteen or over and have access to a valid credit card, then stay on the line and get ready to get hot, sweaty, and horny, with the sexiest Latin babes in... Trying his damnedest not to explode at Alix's unceasing goofiness, Moneymaker snatches the phone from her hands, and nervously slides it next to his ear. MONEYMAKER Uh...hello Mr. President. ALIX The president?! Dude, would Krista love to get her hands on him. Gimmie the phone so I can give Dubbya a piece of my mind! MONEYMAKER (fighting off Alix) Very sorry about that, sir. Yes, always willing to lend my country a helping hand. This weekend? Excellent, sir. Okay...okay...okay. Bye. ALIX You didn't give me the phone! Meanie! MONEYMAKER You never said please. ALIX Oh, no! Mother told me one day that'd come back to haunt me. MONEYMAKER Well, perhaps, you might tell me a bit about yourself. You are such an intriguing individual. But so much of what I know of you is gleaned from [i]People[/i] magazine articles or Ned's strungout ramblings. Tell me about your life. Please. He leans in the close, the candle on the table flickering bellow his green eyes. A grin passes onto his lips, letting Alix know his keen interest of her history. ALIX The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it. Waaaaait, that wasn't my life, that was a monolouge from [i]Austin Powers[/i]. Oopsie! Theodore leans back in his chair, beaming with false admiration of this unique woman. MONEYMAKER You....are like no one I have ever met before. ALIX Ya know, I get that alot. But this is the first time it hasn't been followed by an admittance to a state psychiatric facility. Shunning the idea of service with a smile, a glum waiter drags his weary carcass to the table, pushing a cart containing the exquisite entres of the night. WAITER Dinner is served, sir. Anything else I can do for you? Shoe shine? Tap dance? Soft shoe routine? Minstriel Show? MONEYMAKER No, thank you. Everything is just fine. Keep up this fine service and you might find a shiny nickel in your pant pocket when the night is over. WAITER (muttering to himself) You might find a shiny boot stuck up your.... MONEYMAKER What's that? WAITER Nothing sir. Nothing at all. ALIX Oooh lookie, your awesome waiter arranged the noodles to spell out the words “HELP ME! I AM BEING HELD AGAINST MY WILL! SEND WORD TO MY FAMILY IN KENYA THAT I AM ALIVE BUT NOT WELL!” Cute! Wright turns to CPA and motions towards the waiter, nodding towards the kitchen, and angrily making a throat slashing gesture. Alix meanwhile has turned strangely serious. ALIX Not that a free trip to Miami isn't the awesomest thing ever, buuuuuuut can I ask why I'm here? I mean, you know, we're not Nicole Kidman and Naomi Watts on the friendship scale. There isn't a whole lot in common between the twenty eight year old, peyote smoking, owner of a tiny gourmet cookie shop in West Hollywood, and a twenty four year old billion dollar heir, who has the ravaged facial features and eyes of eternal despair that typically belong to a forty three year old meth addict sleeping on the side of the Sunset Blvd exit on the 101. MONEYMAKER You'd be surprised. You and I really are a lot alike. ALIX Ya sure about that? MONEYMAKER Unquestionably. When you look past the philosophical differences, the sociological nuances,and exterior framework, you see that the psychological trappings are simply two of a kind. If I may be so bold, the same things make us feel good. ALIX Ooooh, like wearing thongs backwards. MONEYMAKER Okay, some of the same things. One of those things that shines light upon our hearts is the role of leadership. ALIX Oh, I have natural leadership skills. Like, in high school I was alternate assistant captain of the pom squad. But that was until they kicked me out after I got into a fist fight with our celebrity fundraiser. The cops totally overreacted! Who knew Scott Baio would be in a coma for six weeks? As for the old man who ended up in the hospital? If someone had told me he was an arch bishop ahead of time, maybe I would've told him not to smoke near the helium tank. MONEYMAKER So you understand? You, like me, are a leader of men. We are ones who shine the beacon for the lost dregs of America to follow. Forgive me if I get to personal with my commentary, but I must confide in someone. I have long yearned to ascend to the very heights of executive power within my family's expansive business ventures. But time and time again I am shut out, to no fault of my own. And why? ALIX Because you're hideously ugly? MONEYMAKER No! Well, possibly. No, because they say my time will come when I'm older....possibly wiser. Nonsense. Age is no measure of wisdom. They keep me from power, from true leadership, because it is the last hold my family has on me. This is how they control me. Once I have complete dominance over the Moneymaker empire how will they make me do their bidding? ALIX It's not like they can make you do it now. MONEYMAKER I know, I know. That's the precisely the point, my dear. I am younger then any male in the Moneymaker family. Wiser. Stronger. Better. They pleaded with me not to fight with Tony, that traitorous cancer. I left Tony for dead! He will never show his face within the oaoast again and that is because of me! The supposed strongest man in my family, turned into a weeping child at my feet. And if they can't control me now, how will they once I acquire true leadership within the family? I will become more powerful then the entire Moneymaker clan put together! That is why they keep me down. They fear my power. They fear [i]me[/i]. ALIX Ah-ha. MONEYMAKER They fear my rise to leadership because of what I might do with it. All my life I have been instructed that preservation of the Moneymaker name was the most paramount drive of my life. Even if it's preservation came at the expense of those in need, those in the lower classes. As a young boy, even in my early twenties, I thought nothing of that order, I was concerned with nothing but sitting around the pool, and screwing anything that moved. But as I got older, I looked around, and I saw that the work of my family wasn't going towards the betterment of society as a whole. No. It seemed all my family's efforts were singularly devoted to the task of oppressing as many people as possible. I spent my whole life climbing a mountain only to find its the wrong mountain. ALIX Mountains can't be wrong! Unless they're underwater, then they're islands. MONEYMAKER That's why I formed The Enterprise, to advance my own goals of eternal love, caring, and tolerance. Sometimes our methods have been called into question. But I feel that what we're doing is for the benefit of the greater good. My conscience is not clear, but my heart truly is. But thanks to my last name and the atrocities attached to it, people have lost all respect for what I might be able to contribute. I am shunned by the left wingers as a fraud. Detested by the right as a traitor. ALIX Then why did the President call you if the right detests you? MONEYMAKER (under breath) Hmm, you're smarter than you look. ALIX Huh? MONEYMAKER I mean, when I speak for fairness and equal rights I am ignored at best, mocked at worst. My power is starting to dwindle, my leadership is being called into question. And both will surely erode should I not take hold of some kind of platform, a symbol that would cause people the world over to stand behind me, unified, knowing that I am a.....[i]champion[/i] ALIX Can we kinda move this along? I'm starting to sober up, which might explain why I no longer see Hendrix's head sticking out of your right elbow. MONEYMAKER I'll be blunt. I need your help in obtaining that symbol. I thought winning the Anderson Cup would've been sufficient, but it's only fanned the flames of disdain! There's no satisfying these beasts! Alix Maria Spezia, I need your tag team titles. I know we're scheduled to do battle at Anglemania, but that's exactly what they want us to do. Divide and conquer. They don't want a unified front fighting for equality, they want to see us destroy each other. We can't fight. Too much harm would come from that. Now, I would do anything to ensure that you and Krista remain healthy champions for not months, but years to come. But in this current political climate, that simply isn't an option. Action must be taken, and the prestige of your championship coupled with my wealth is the exact combination we need to right the wrongs set forth by oppressors. I understand that this is an [i]Inconvenient Truth[/i] for you, that is why I am willing to offer you a monetary settlement for your championship belts. Besieged by indignation, Ally leaps from her chair in horror, casting a disgusted look towards the suddenly pale face of Moneymaker. CPA rises from his seat, readying himself to defend his less then honorable employee should the need arise. ALIX Ewwww! I knew it! I knew it! At first I thought you just waiting till you bored me to sleep so you could slip something in my drink and fondle my helpless body. SIMON (behind camera) Damn! How'd she know about that? NED (also behind camera) Shut up and keep filming. ALIX But this is way worse! I would never in fifty trillion, eighty billion, sixty gazillion years sell you...how, much are we talkin' about? MONEYMAKER Three hundred thousand dollars. ALIX I'll never sell the tag team titles to you! Shyea right! Like you could sweet talk me, “oh you're like no one I've ever met before, you looked so good at the Oscars, ooh I wanna spank your booty [i]Secretary[/i] style.” Puh-leaze, I wasn't born yesterday, and if I was how would you explain my ability to walk or talk or do long division. Answer: You couldn't! You wanna help the poor and the oppressed, huh? Attention K-Mart shoppers, we have a special on lying assholes on aisle six, and a sale on enormous pricks in aisle four! Yeah right! Los Diablos are the most oppressed guys I've ever met in all my six lives, and you poured out hundreds of thousands of dollars to harass, attack, make fun of, and assault them almost every week! The tag team titles aren't a symbol of anything to you. They're just some cheap piece of jewelry you can show off to make you feel like your better then everyone else. Yeah,well guess what, chico, they're my cheap piece of jewelry that I'm using to belittle those of lower social and economic status and they aren't for sale. Unless of course you're willing to go up to five hundred thousand dollars. And a pony. I love, love, love, ponies! But unless you can pull a pony out your BUTT, in which case you should have a prostate exam like right now, then forget it, because you're never gonna get it! Never ever gonna get it! MONEYMAKER Damn it, girl, are you that much of a fool? Do you not realize the offer being presented to you? Open your eyes, woman, and wake up to reality, The Enterprise is an unstoppable force, a machine that mows down any in it's path without discrimination. All who have stood before The Enterprise have fallen and fallen hard! When The Enterprise sets it sight on you, there is no escape. None! I do not care how famous, how popular you and your girlfriend happen to be. The Moneymaker empire crushes everything. Do you not understand the severity of the situation our winning the Anderson Cup has put you in? I am doing you a favor! I'm giving you the chance to spare yourself and your partner a sound thrashing at Anglemania from the finely honed wrestling skills of Anderson Cup winners. Not only that but I am paying you a handsome reward, when in truth it should be you offering me money for this extension of mercy. You should be on your knees, thanking me for the offering I just presented you! ALIX Unlike, you and Christian on the weekends, I don't get down on my knees for any man. If I'm not gonna say no to drugs, I'm sure gonna say no to offers that sound like they came from someone on drugs. N-O, mister! Now if you'll excuse I have to make like a banana and leave....er make like a tree and split. Wait, crap! You know what I meant, I don't have to repeat it. Alix rises from her table and snatches her pets, who look fine but wait until a few hours later, from CPA, then departs out the door. Theodore gazes at the spot where the vexatious woman once resided, his rumpled features pushed down into agonized despair. With troubled mind, he bleakly motions to Simon Singleton to cease filming. But owing to some warped journalistic credo, The Video Voyeur keeps the camera rolling. MONEYMAKER Hmmmmm. Not as stupid as I was lead to believe. It's unthinkable that she of all people saw through my ruse that easily. One way or another, their title reign will be coming to an abrupt ending, and I promise you this, Miss Spezia, that ending will assuredly come before Anglemania. Haahhhaahaha! NED (off screen) You the man, Theo! Haaahahhahaa! CPA Haahaahhaa! Shockingly Ally makes a quick return to the restaurant, giving hope to Moneymaker's frayed heart that has ill fated deal may be resurrected. ALIX Forgot my purse! She snatches her handbag, and departs once more, leaving Moneymaker to stew over his failed plot as we fade out.

This match is on extreme tape delay, so Jade can be at the arena, while Alix and Krista wouldn't be fighting or at the arena for Syndicated anyway. [b]RECORDED FRIDAY FEBRUARY 23rd[/B] [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/warnerbros.jpg] We're greeted by an image of E! Corespondent Ryan Seacrest is standing in front of Warner Brother Studios, wearing a sharply designed tuxedo and holding a microphone. No you haven't turned to some kind of screwy Internet fantasy e-Oscars. This is still Syndicated, gentlemen, and I am still on copius amounts of LSD. SEACREST This time of year is normally one of great excitement and eagerness within Hollywood, for the always thrilling Oscar race has typically captured the hearts and minds of the citizens of Los Angeles. However, today, the tenor of Tinseltown is one of terror! Why? Because, urban terrorist, notorious Blood affiliated criminals, The South Central Militia have targeted Warner Brother's studios for their version of blood, warfare, and carnage. Their primary targets are Hollywood “It” girls, Alix Spezia and Krista Isadora Duncan. But it's business as usual for studio staff on this Friday afternoon. However, security has been put on high alert should the Militia get out of hand. Now let's go to Terry Taylor. We're taken to the inside of the studio, where are announce team is situated within the comfortable confines of the luxurious gift shop, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed Looney Tune characters. They're also joined by adorable mascot versions of the popular cartoon legends, such as Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, and to mock poor Terry Taylor, Foghorn Leghorn. Our announcers are as follows. [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/doublet.jpg] [b]Terry Taylor![/b] [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/JadeRodez.jpg] [b]Jade Rodez![/b] [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/melpotrait.jpg] [b]Melody Nerdly![/b] TERRY TAYLOR The glitz, the glamour, the fun, the sun! It's all here in tinseltown, Los Angeles, California. But what the city of angels never expected to see was two if it's most famous natives slug it out with two of it's most hated denizens. But that's exactly what they'll see today, as Chicks Over Dicks defend their tag team titles against The South Central Militia in a Battle of Los Angeles match! Terry Taylor, joined by Miss Melody Nerdly, and Jade Rodez, sister of the returning Leon Rodez, at Warner Brother's studios in Burbank, California. And we are here thanks to the South Central Militia dropping an enormous bid on a charity auction to spend time with the girls. However, the SCM didn't want just a regular meet and greet, they wanted a tag title match in on COD's type of turf, and that's what they got. Unlike the Oscars which get decided by a panel of voters, The SCM's fate is entirely in their hands. Melody, why don't you tell the fans watching at home a bit about the contest. MELODY Professor doctor Miss Melody. TAYLOR Professor, doctor, Miss, Melody, tell the fans a bit about this unique contest. MELODY You tell them, you're the unpaid intern. JADE Well, why don't we let our special master of ceremonies, a Rodney Dangerfield impersonator, introduce us to our participants! MELODY Why a weaksauce imersonator and not an actual celeb? Because we just found out the real Rodney Dangerfield was dead three minutes before we started filiming. TAYLOR That's a shoot. Sadly. We're transported to the middle of the lot, a concrete ocean surrounded by various studios and sets, pillars of movie making prowess. Along the slab of pavement lie grassy islands, filled with flowers, and encircled by palm trees. The beautiful California sun illuminates the area with a radiant glow, as the challengers to the titles shift uncomfortably next to the appointed referees, Tokyo native Okari Tanaka, German Helmut Wolfang, Charles Robinson, 86 year old Clem Buzzlefoxer, and 58 year old Clem Buzzlefoxer JR. The camera settles on the master of ceremonies, the impersonator of a sometimes despised, sometimes beloved comedian, who looks like a pale gnome next to the ghastly Militia. RODNEY DANGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR Hey, uh, I'd introduce myself, but I'm not so sure that's a good idea, I got self esteem issues, see. I told my psychiatrist everyone hates me, he said I was being ridiculous, everyone hasn't met me yet. DANGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR My wife's no help either. We were happy for twenty years. Then we met! Hey, her jealously is getting out of hand. The other day she looked at my calendar and wanted to know who April was! Seriously though, let's get to the competitors for this match. We got the South Central Militia over here, Vinny Santana, and Marcellus Wallace, from South Central Los Angeles. You and me, we got a lot a common, I come from a real though neighborhood also. I bought a waterbead and found dead body at the bottom of it! In the local restaurant I got served broken leg of lamb! The camera points towards the challengers, who flash platinum encrusted teeth towards the loathing viewers around the world. Vincent's skinny body is shelved in a mink fur coat and a pair of Artful Dodger death valley jeans, dark blue pants that boast a menacing skull floating along the back. His associate has outfitted himself in a loose fitting white tank top, and camo pants that sag to reveal black boxer shorts. Standing beside the duo are the peripheral members of the South Central Militia, various hoodlums and thugs, dressed in allover red tiger print hooded sweat shirts, and black denim jeans. TAYLOR Look Vincent's pants, with the skull on the BUTT. Talk about redefining the word bad ass! MELODY Worst. Joke. Ever. JADE What's the deal with the SCM bringing an entire army to the fight? No rules against it, I suppose, but even so, it doesn't seem very sporting! Maybe Alix and Krista should've brought their people along! TAYLOR I'm not sure Krista's nine o'clock erotic yoga for senior women class poses quite the same threat as the Militia's gang. MELODY The idea of grandma experiencing multiple tantric orgasms is enough to scare any man. DANNGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR Hey it's the champs, Alix and Krista! Indeed it is, unfunny comedian, indeed it is. The girls are known for habit over doing things on a far grander level then that of their counterparts, and their entrance into the unusual bout is no exception. [i][b]When you get a new car [uh huh uh huh] and ya feeling like a star [ok ok] what you gon do [what cha gon do, what cha gon do] GHOST RIDE IT ghost ride ya whip[/b][/i] The beloved champions make their grandoise entry to centerstage riding on a school bus. And I do most certainly mean on, as Krista is stationed on the roof of the vehicle, svelte figure enhanced by chic athletic gear; white Nike low rise work out pants, and a classy pink Nike tennis polo. Caught up in a rush of euphoria, she's dancing the night way with sexy salsa moves, while sipping on what is likely her seventh beer of the day. Leaning out of the window are a collection of urban looking gentlemen, waving their hands to beat of the Mistah FAB's song that booms from the massive bass of the bus' stero. Alix, outfitted in a denim mini skirt so tiny it could serve as a necklace, and a green and white Abercrombie polo shirt situates herself in the door. However she can't help but leap out to dance next to the side of bus, moving her feet in rhythmic fashion while she and the vehicle parade down the street. Even, the Dogg father himself, and COD's number one fan, Snoop Dogg is on top of the bus, getting in on the Ghostridig action. Unfortunately he's so spaced out on acid that his entire world appears something like this..... [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/snoopkirby1.gif] The Militia look on in utter shock and disbelief, as it's now apparent Chicks Over Dicks are more hood then they are, completely wrecking their entire gimmick and reason for employment. MELODY They're Ghostriding da whip! Stuntin', shinin', flamboostin'! Get out the way, let casper drive! Not any more they're not, because the bus comes to a halt in front of the totally stunned One Eye and Santana. Alix leaps out first, gingerly blowing kisses into the camera towards the adoring home viewing audience. Krista, quickly scurries down from her perch on the room, muttering and mumbling about having no place to put her liquor. The girls give a hug to their dog father, who wishes them good luck, before dancing towards the Mushroom Kingdom with his new best friend, Kirby. DANGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR Those are some good looking dames. Me not so much. When I was born the doctor took one look at my face, turned me over and said look twins! I sure wouldn't mind marrying them, better then my wife. I get no respect from her, I made a toast on her birthday “to the best woman a man ever had”. A waiter joined me! How's about it girls, wouldya say, tie the knot with me? (Robinson whispers something to Dangerfield). Hey, that's alright, my cousin is gay. I always tell him that in our family tree he's in the fruit section! MELODY Will this match mark the debut of zombie Dangerfield to avenge the ruination of his act by this craptastic impersonator? The fake Dangerfield is dismissed by a production assistant, rambling about getting “no respect”. With the comedy routine a distant memory, Charles Robinson takes the microphone to explain the rules of the bout. ROBINSON Ladies and gentlemen, this match very simple, it can end in three ways, by knockout, by submission, or by pin. How you get to that point is completely up to you, anything goes in Hollywood. Are you ready? The SCM and Krista nod, Alix sings the words “I am ready” in a deep falsetto voice. ROBINSON Then let's make it happen! (terrible catchphrase, Chuck!) TAYLOR Hey, Jade, you have to think D*Lux could be in line for a tag title shot sometime around the corner? JADE Huh? What? Yeah, when they're ready for that type of thing, I guess. The criminally insane Wallace waste little time in getting the carnage underway. He grabs onto Alix's bare arms and begins to slam her into the school bus. CLANK! Alix's skinny body thuds off the harsh yellow metal. CLANK! She endures another hostile trashing. CLANK! And another blazes a trail of pain along her exposed back. Alix realizes that she can't tolerate much more of this brutalization, and makes moves to escape the predicament. She shoots her knee into Wallace's ripped stomach, which does little in the way of damage, but provides her enough of a distraction to stomp on his BAPE shoes! One Eye allows Alix to go free in order to take care of his gangsta fashionable footwear. With her rival preoccupied, Alix scurries up to the hood of the vehicle. Like a prophet on a summit, Alix holds her hands out in holy triumph and asks the all important question “LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?” “Si senorita!” shouts a nearby groundskeeper, who's neglecting his work to peek up Alix's teeny tiny skirt. “Then let's rock, mother trucker!” she screams, before bending backwards (affording the viewing audience the coveted shot of her Victoria's Secret panties), and jamming on an air guitair. “Well, we can't salute ya! Can't find a flag.” She belts in her best (worst) heavy metal voice. “If that don't suit ya, that's a drag!” Alix begins attacking her air gut air with such ferocity you'd think she was actually playing a concert attended by thousands of people “Schooooool's out for the summer! Schooooooool's out forevaaa! Schooooooool's been blown to pieces!” Alix's nails on chalk board voice grate heavily on One Eye's voice, thus he claws his way onto the hood to silence the musical vixen. “What the hell are you singing?” He wonders, wishing to know the exact the details of the song he's about to end her career over. “School's Out!” She boasts. “That's the crazy note, bestowed from the goddess above into the mouth of the most rockingest dude of all freaking time, Alice Coooooooopah!” Wallace scoffs. “Alice Cooper? Dude in the [i]Wayne's World[/i] movie? Yo, for real, that seventies trailer trash shit is mad gay.” The usually cheery brunette is struck by a bolt of outrage and bellows, “Don't you ever say another ill word about Alice Cooper! No more Miss Nice Girl, no more miss cle-he-heaaaaaan.” Alix takes out her enormous anger on Wallace's back with a round of stomps. But those paltry blows do little to prevent him from rising to his full vertical base. He volleys a lariat towards her head, but Alix evades the slow moving blow by sweeping underneath his attacking him. She's able to catch him off guard with a side Russian leg sweep setup, but instead of using that exact move, which would dump both of them off the bus, she shoots them both forward with a front Russian leg sweep. The windshield “breaks” One Eye's fall, savagely holding in place as his face crashes into it. Leaving a whimpering Wallace pressed against the pane of glass, Alix backs up as far as she can go on the short surface and does a little disco dance. Once [i]Saturday Night Fever[/i] comes to a close, she darts to her wounded rival, takes to the skies, then viscously impacts her sparkling shoes into the back of his skull. The sound of Marcellus' head being sandwiched between her feet and the windshield causes watchers around the world to cringe in sympathy pain. “Word, bitch. Alice Cooper like a motherfucker!” She screams, jamming on the air guitar above her defeated enemy. TAYLOR What's a good word to describe that, Melody? MELODY Try “ouch”. Elsewhere, Krista has decided to forgo the silly concept of a wrestling match, and embark on a studio tour instead. Her curiosity has taken her onto a dimly lit movie set, which is functioning as a living room for an (as of right now) unknown picture. Because of the haunting darkness of the area, Krissy can scarcely make out any sort of crew, or what movie is/was using this stage area. Her curiosity is partially filled in a most horrifying way, when a man dressed in the trademark costume from the [i]Scream[/i] films (screaming skull mask, black robe) appears to attack her with a blood soaked sickle. The weapon descends upon her like a judgment from the lord, threatening to split the surly diva in to pieces. She dives onto a near by leather couch, causing the sickle to bounce of the wood floor, sending shockwaves up the man's arm. The psychopathic killer is undettered by the miss, and again tries to skewer Miss California with his sickle. Once again a sweat drenched Krista scrapes her body away from certain dismemberment. While she lies on the floor, panting heavily, arm resting on a coffee table, her assailant lets out a bawl of frustration as he tries to pry his weapon from the couch. JADE Hey, isn't [i]Scream[/i] a Miramax picture? MELODY Are we gonna have to cut your mic, young lady? JADE I'll be good! Krista's seen enough horror movies to know that the people who run from the antagonist are the usually the ones who meet gruesome, blood filled endings, while those who stay and fight, are typically the ones who survive the ordeal. Thus Krista morphs from sterotypical hot blond victim, to ass kicking tag team champion, and springs to her New Balance tennis shoes. An animalistc growl spews forth from the killer as he watches his rival stand in proud defiance. Tufts of black fabric flap in the air as he slashes his sickle towards his foe's body. But Krissy gracefully avoids the strike by backflipping away, landing near a big screen TV. Her bubblegum pink lips form a sly smile, as her manicured hands invite the barbarian to retry his failing luck. He accepts her invitation, and lunges at her, savagely planning on impaling her with stinging steel of his blade. But the fitness model shoots down that idea in multi colored flames, by leaping onto the big screen TV, and spring boarding back to floor her attacker with an enziguri! Fresh screams from her victim's throat splatters the landscape, as he plummets to the hardwood floor. Despite his anguished yelps, and paralyzed position, Krista doesn't believe that her rival is truly incapacitated, and makes moves to finish him off once and for all. With a devious smirk on her face, she grabs a 17” rust finish table lamp, and hoists above her head. CRAAAASH! The resounding blast of the object being splintered across the killer's head, cuts through the erry silence like a blade through a werewolves heart. The once fearsome maniac turns docile, his weapon of mass destruction sliding free of his motionless fingertips. “CUT!” a booming voice echoes from the distance. The lights go up, showing that what Krista erroneously believed to be an unused set, is actually a fully populated working space. The stage hands, key grips, and other technicians, scurry about, wrapped up in their world, seem oblivious to the fact that the poor woman thought someone was actually trying to kill her. Makeup ladies dive upon her confused person like vultures, attacking with her various beauty products that probably bear her name and likeness. The camera pans out to reveal the source of the shout of “cut”, none other then horror guru, director Wes Craven. “Honey, baby, you're supposed to let the bad guy win. Remember?” He says, leaning back in his director chair. “You might have read that in that big pamphlet full of words and phrases, called the script. I know you want a big part, but you can't kill the bad guy in the first five minutes. You can't have a movie where the main character gets killed in the beginning. Except for American Beauty. Can we do this again?” Krista, in an attempt to prove that she's not a total dunce to the horror legend, desperately tries to plead her case. “You don't understand! He's not an actor! He's a savage, psychotic, gang banger, who bid on a charity auction to help Tibet, but really he's trying to kill me! Look!” In a scene reminiscent of Scooby Doo Krista frantically tears away the mask, revealing her assailant to be..... [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/Yosemite-sam.jpg] “What in tarnation is going on here?!” “Oh come on, Wes!” Krista exclaims. “What, was Slimer from the Ghostbusters out of your budget? And instead of polluting the world with another poorly acted Neve Campbell movie, I think already having three violates some kind of Geneva Convention code, why don't you give this war mongering, fascist dictatorship controlled cesspool of a country what they really want to see? A sequel to [i]Every which way but loose[/i] Now there's a concept our chauvanistic heteronormative societey can't get enough of, a man and his monkey,” “There she is!” A gruff and all too familiar voice yawps. All eyes turn towards the door Krista entered from, where three more uninvited guests have arrived to the proceedings. Vinny Santana, and two of his most trusted south central warriors, stride across the set, shoving away anyone unlucky enough to stand in their path. The fierce threesome swarm their seemingly overmatched victim, who's blue eyes eagerly search out a means of escape. “Um, if you need me I'll be in my trailer.” Krista remarks with a nervous giggle. Her enemies have little intention of allowing her to spend time in any vehicle besides an ambulance, however, and Vinny acts on this desire by launching a lariat her way. She swoops beneath his mink covered arm, but annoyingly carries herself into a choke hold from one of the henchmen. His dirty fingers press into her smooth skin, robbing her of air, and nearly squeezing her neck into minuscule pieces. But he doesn't get the opportunity to inflict any crippling harm on the woman, as Santana harshly orders his subordinate to release her to his “care”. The gangbanger obliges without question, roughly thrusting Krista towards his boss. With a ferocious roar, Vinny pounces at the champion, who surprises him by twisting around at superhuman speed and hurling four spin kicks at the attacking beast. Shards of jagged pain mixed with feral rage as Krista's spotless footwear slices into his scrawny torso. He rears backwards, growling in fury, his claws slashing fruitlessly in the air. He howls inside, promising swift retribution against his adversary. But the femme fatale is already airborne, horse whipping her shoe along his pug ugly face. The tremendous force of the blow pushes him to the ground, where his angry curses emerge as nothing but inarticulate snarls. “Get her!” Vincent hollers to his charges. The smallest of the two gangsters needs no further prompting. In a blur of motion he picks up a studio light and takes aim at the blond bombshell. The screeching glare of the light momentarily blinds Krista, and prevents her from staging a suitable avoidance. Thus the callous steel of the weapon springs through the air unhindered and strikes it's target in the arm. The tag team champion howls in pain, glaring back at the thugs. Icy eyes peer from beneath a sweat marked brow, as she nurses her wounded arm. Before she can recover from her pain, the compact man-beast slams the light fixture into her stomach, taking her completely off her feet with a single lunge. JADE Oh no! My hero...uh...Krista....Krista is in trouble! MELODY Now is as good a time as any to use this picture. [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/internet.jpg] TERRY Internet? What the hell is the Internet? Jagged fangs flash from the creature's open jaw as he stalks a crawling Krista, weapon positioned menacingly above his head. He slashes madly through the air with his club, but Krista evades a grizzly fate by lancing her boot into his testicles! The cheap but effective shot interrupts the trajectory of the light, and causes it to fall from the man's hand, landing innocently at his side. His face cracks, and his mouth twists in anguish, as he's caught within the grip of the worst pain imaginable. Krista has zero sympathy for her opponent's plight, and hops to her feet to cause further damage. Her eyes narrow into sinister slits, while her feet ravage his chest with caperiora inspired hand stand kicks. Vincent can only watch in a mix of disgust and awe as convicted felon is decimated by the thirty five year old president of the PTA. “Christopher,” An excited Craven turns to his camera man. “Are you getting all this on film?” “What for?” “For the movie!” “There's no movie being made. This is all just an expensive and elaborate scheme designed by your wife to get you out of the house so she could bang the pool boy.” Krista's procession of kicks push the criminal farther away from the living room and into the nitty gritty inner workings of the set. Desperate to escape the crazed champion, the convict pays no heed to the stupefied crew around him, as he makes a frantic bid for the nearest exit. Not one to shy away from battle, Krista spurs her feet after the nameless henchmen. But the third brute, the one who had earlier locked a fierce grip around Krista's throat, accosts her once more. Krista won't be so easily subdued this time, and shoots an elbow into the side of his cranium. He staggers backwards, droplets of blood trickling down the side of his head. Miss California takes advantage of his moments weakness, by latching onto the back of his do-ragged head. She leads him, kicking and screaming to a medium sized camera mount. Several impressed stage hands bear witness to the grizzly scene of KID bashing his skull into the jagged metal object. The twisted strands of metal violate the ruffian's face, peeling away at his bronze skin, leaving glistening crimson in it's place. MELODY Hhahahaahah! The misfortunes of people I don't know never stops being funny! This noobilicious noob nugget needs to learn to play his class! F'n carebear, log off and play in ezmode! JADE Don't ask, Terry. Just know that Melody is a very special young lady, and we love her very much. A savage smile taking hold of her face, Krista discards her whimpering victim to the concrete floor, where steaming blood invades his vision. Then, in a most embarrassing act, she bends over and hual's the convicts pants and underwear to his ankles, exposing his pimpled filled BUTT to the world, and changing this from a one star match, to the match of the year in the eyes of many fans (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, TONY149, I KNOW U FUCK W/THAT). Not content with merely lambasting this cretin with a mundane humiliation, Krista wishes to curse him the worst indignation humanely possible. Thus she grabs a nearby tripod, and folds it into it's lengthy vertical base. While nonsensically humming [i]Ring of Fire[/i] by Johnny Cash, she then positions her tool above his bare ass, preparing to flashback him to his woeful prison days as communal prag of the Black Guerrilla Family gang. But, without warning, a fourth thug appears on the scene to save his associate from an anal violation and the years of psychotherapy that come with it. He charges at Krista from behind, swinging a tripod of his own. But Krista reacts with amazing quickness, and sinks her weapon deep into the man's chest. He collapses forward, a wad of blood soaked spit spilling from his mouth. His pain further increases when Krista slices the tripod through his shaggy back, cleaving his spine. JADE What's with all these stupid crew people standing around doing nothing? TAYLOR They're union, they don't have to do any work. Krista opens her mouth to taunt the over matched bumpkins, only to be interrupted by a ferocious roar. The hideous figure of the smallest thug rises in front of her. He raises a dagger to carve her silky smooth skin into nothingness, but never gets that chance as she wheels about and swings her pole at the oncoming hoodlum. The sliver edge of the metal object slices cleanly through his neck, creating grotesque gash on it's landing strip. Trailing a shower of blood, his body topples sideways. His expressionless head rebounds of the hard floor, while his limbs twitch convulsively. MELODY It's dangerous out here! I've got to take steps to protect myself! *casts shell/protect/and haste on self* *waits a couple of seconds*, *attack magic [b]summon[/b] <-----DIABLO --------------IFRIT --------------SHIVA --------------[b][color="#0000FF"]ODIN[/color][/b]<------------*casts* steal item flee * JADE Mel, just because you put in an astreik before a sentence, doesn't mean it's actually going to happen. MELODY I see....*UP,UP,DOWN,DOWN,LEFT,RIGHT,LEFT,RIGHT,B,A,Start.* Bring it on, Militia! Bring...it....on! Vinny, who had been relaxing on the plush leather couch, while his underlings took a brutal beating, casually rises to his feet, stifling back a yawn. “Well, it's like I told my son, shortly before I shot his mother three times in the face, if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.” With a savage howl, Santana pounces from his position in the living room. The Militia co-leader tackles Krista, knocking the startled champion to the ground. She lands hard amidst the throng of carnage she's wrought, with the berserk brawler right on top of her. The impact drives the breath from her lungs. Her mighty spear slips from her fingers. JADE *casts cureaga on Krista* Right, Melody? From Final Fantasy. MELODY No offense, Jade, but sometimes you can be a major geek. A voracious fist closes in Krista's face, crushing it beneath it's powerful weight. Bone crunches loudly. A geyser of tears and sweat explode off Krista's head, and onto Vinny's face and chest. Chuckling to himself, he claws his fingers into her eyes. Blinded, she swings out wildly with a recently acquired film cannister. The blunt object smashes into the left side of the he-wolf's face, knocking him off his prized possession. His agonized yelps steer her hands as, tears streaming from her afflicted eyes, she hammers him with the object again and again. Krista believes that for the moment she may actually be able to subdue the ferocious pugilist. But a canine grunt suggests otherwise. Moving with a speed that betrays the heated assault he's under, rises to blast Krista with a roundhouse kick. His boot hits her like a battering ram, and her shoes take leave of the ground. She crashes through a row of cameras, causing amazed stage hands to scatter away from the wreckage. The harsh prong of busted metal, plastic, and glass, stings her busted body. The collision leaves her head ringing, but nevertheless, she leaps to her feet, a smaller tripod in hand. And well it is that she does, for Vinny is rejoined by the smaller thug, and the thug who suffered a depantsing at her hands. “Shit, it's gotta be a drag to be you, baby girl.” Vinny comments through an arrogant smile. “ Get her.” he orders, the grin instantly disappearing with the loathsome order. “Son of a bitch, I should took the job on [i]The View[/i] when I had the chance.” Krista mutters inwardly. Thrusting with her arm, she attacks the first warrior so hard that the spear stabs through the thickened fabric of his top. She hastily tugs on the “hilt” of the weapon, praying that it would not get stuck within the man's top. To her relief the sword comes free easily enough, and she swings it around in one smooth continuous movement. With lethal percesion the object cuts into man's jaw, forcing newly loosened teeth to rip through the empty air. His lifeless body spills onto the floor, landing in bloodied heap in front of Santana, who regards his fallen comrade with bitterest contempt. “Anytime you guys actually wannna, you know, put up a fight, that would be awesome.” Krista remarks with a grin “What are you waiting for, Christmas? Damn, dude, smoke this ho!” The fur coated Vinny yells to his remaining lackey. The fearless street tough roars defiantly at Krista as he charges her with tremendous force. She meets his charge with a viscous looking stab, striking him bellow the ribs. A well aimed spin kick from Krista's left foot pierces his shoulder. Her right foot then springs to life, catching him squarely in the jaw with a superkick. Enmeshed in agony, the brawler collapses to the floor, beaten and bleeding, his chest rising in falling beneath his heavy anguish. Only labored breathing assured Vinny that his unfortunate comrade would be conscious to later chew out for his incompetence. “Good help is so hard to find.” Krista comments over a giggle. Hatred smolders in Vinny's eyes. Tearing his gaze away from his defeated cronies, he takes a frigid look towards Krista. Yet she is the one who performs with murderous determination. The golden hair fighter whirled and spot and every thudding kick crashes against Vincent's defense with the impossible power of a meteor strike. The Militia co-leader spends lavishly on his energy simply trying to keep up with these attacks without being torn in half. Each parry cost him more power then he can afford to spend, and every block of her whirlwind assault seems to exponentially drain his energy. He backs away as fast as he dared; the relentless jezebel stays right on top of him. He no longer tries to block the strikes, only guide them slanting away, as he's unable to counter her blinding speed. Acting on desperation alone, he drops low and spins into a reverse ankle sweep, that slaps Krissy sharply enough to knock her off balance. MELODY Trying to figure out who would win a match between Krista and Vinny, is like trying to determine who win a fight between a Jedi and Mega Man. TAYLOR Or Wolverine and Captain America. MELODY Help, I'm surrounded by nerds! “You picked the wrong thug to mess with.” Vincent barks, while he drives a series of kicks towards Krista's legs, drawing Krista into overhead flip so that he can burn through her spine with a single lariat. The plan, which seemed so clear in his mind, becomes a murky botch, when Krista, upon hitting the floor, returns to the air to strike him with a spinning side stamp that folds him in half. Using the dancer's strength within her legs, she continues her spin into a fast wheel kick that brings her heel against the point of his chin with a sharp crack, knocking the brawler into a catering table. Crew members scatter about, leaving their donuts and coffee to fend for themselves, as Whitey topples onto the long piece of furniture. While Vinny's bonelessly limp body is still tumbling through the cheese tray, Krista gives him a mighty shove. His fall suddenly accelerates like a missile burning the last of it's drives before impact. The brute strikes the floor at a steep angle, skids along it, and slams into a row of light fixtures so hard, the grouping buckles and collapses onto him. The muffled sound of his pathetic cries are especially gratifying to his exhausted rival. JADE Hey, Krista is sending me a text message. She says that Vince is as dead as your sex life, Terry. TAYLOR *downloads hentai of big titty chicks with lethal cyanide juices in their nipples * Knowing that her enemy is all but permanently incapacitated, Krista lays a shoulder onto his tomb of metal and glass, attempting the first pinfall of the match. But there's one slight hiccup..... MELODY TheRE 4r3n'T 4NY $TUpID R3PH3REE$!@!!@@!!!~~111!!!!! JADE Translation: There aren't any stupid referees! This, of course, is a problem. An enormous problem, that puts Krista, who already suffers from high blood pressure, on the verge of an anxiety caused heart attack. She rises to her feet in order to search out one of the referees, and systemically remove the genitals of the remaining four. “Okay, I'm going now.” Krista shouts to those staff, who haven't ran for their lives. “So if anyone twice my size wants to hit me with any blunt objects, now is the time! Anyone? Ex-girlfriends? Republican national party members? No? Okay, aurevoir!” With that Krista scoops up the long abandoned [i]Scream[/i] costume as a souvenir, and bids the wholly confused employees a fond farewell. [b]Elsewhere[/b], One Eye Wallace finds himself far off the beaten path, nestled between a seemingly endless row of trucks in a loading dock. How he got to this remote location is anyone's guess, and how he's going to return to the center of the fray is beyond him. He seeks out help from the mass of workers unloading various trucks of their eccentric content, but they seem to busy to lend a hand to a former pimp. Marcellus' shoulders sag in depression, but his spirits raise just as quickly as they feel when he eyes the route to salvation; a security guard sitting in a golf cart reading the sports section of the LA Times. “My cracka, my cracka, lemme holla atcha!” One Eye shouts, trotting to the overweight man's location. “Let me get that golf cart right quick, son.” “Sorry, fella, but this golf cart is only to be used by authorized Warner Brothers' studio employ.” The guard responds without looking up from his Clippers article. One Eye thinks quickly, and this is the best plan he come with “Hey, I'll make ya a deal, white boy, I'll suck you off if you gimme that golf cart.” The guard blinks in astonishment “Contrary to what my wife may have said in the divorce proceedings, I have never, and will never, involve myself in any level of faggotry. Is that understood, young man?” “How bout this, I'll jerk off, while you watch?” “Get in the cart.” Marcellus slides into the passenger seat next to the salivating rent a cop, who can't keep his greedy eyes off One Eye's one eyed monster. Sadly, we're not treated to the type of scene typically reversed for steamy adult films such as [i]Wank In The Woods 19[/i], thanks to Wallace punching the guard in the jaw! The sucker punch knocks the unconscious man out of the cart and onto the gravel road, allowing Marcellus to commandeer the vehicle for his own purposes. An arrogant middle finger flies into the air, as he tears up the roadway with an out of control top speed of a fifteen miles per hour. JADE I am worried that I wasn't disturbed at all by that sequence. Meanwhile, we see Krista, Scream costume tucked between her hand, continuing her fruitless search for the incompetent officials. The frustration is evident on her face, and her lips form a detesting scowl. Her blue orbs glare balefully at the palm tree decorated roads, manicured lawns, and various on screen and off screen personnel peeking in and out of sound stages and craft shops, that make up the backlot. Fortunately a familiar sight hits her like a splash of cold water, restoring her sanity. The image that's so pleasing to Krista's frayed mind is of one woman who'd normally never be associated with the word sanity, Alix Spezia. The perky brunette approaches Krista with skipping feet, a Tweety Bird doll in one hand, and cone of cotton candy in the other. “Alix!” Krista cries out, pushing her way past three extras in cowboy outfits to get her better half. “Come quick!” Ally spots the black blob on Krista's arm that is the Scream costume and decides at that moment to shred whatever common sense and good judgement that is left in her body. “I'll save you!” She cries, then darts past a row of outrageously attired, psychotic clowns making their way to the set of [i]The Dark Knight[/i]. “Save me?” Having cleared the jesters in a single leap, Alix is right on top of her bewildered partner. As Krista demands to be dismounted, Alix's talons dig into bundled up costume, while her bare knees pin Kris' arms to pavement. “Get off my sugar mommy, you monster! You can eat her brains after she pays my cell phone bill!” “What are you doing to me?” Krista screams. A calvary of midgets dressed as ninjas walk past, paying no little attention to the scuffle, thinking it to be a raunchy part of some National Lampoon/American Pie type flick. “I'm saving you from this brain dead black alien symbiont that's attacking you and trying to feast off your life blood and impregnate you with it's alien spawn!” “The only brain dead thing that's attacking me is you!” A studio tour cart packed with Japanese tourists armed with the latest digital camera stops next to the girls' ordeal. The nasally voice tour guide begins, “And to your left, you'll find former Spice Girl Geri Haliwell engaged in a fierce fist fight with Drew Barrymore. Sometimes the pressure of Hollywood becomes to much to wash away with booze, cocaine and Percocets.” “Oohs” and “Ahhs” leave the lips of the tourists as their cameras capture permanent images of the titillating “catfight”. “Do I really look like Drew Berrymore?” Alix wonders aloud. “GET OFF OF ME!” Alix takes that as a cue to let go of Krista's arms and clamber away from her incensed partner. Yet she continues to annoy Krista by trying to justifying her gross stupidty. “The couples therapist, he said, that we should totally get down and drrrrty with the foreplay.” “Couples therapist? Just because the raving crack addict at the soup chicken removes his semen encrusted hands from his pants long enough to mix in some perverted romantic advice between his half cocked conspiracy theories on how [i]American Idol[/i] is a Japanese plot to push white catholics to brink of extinction doesn't make him a couples therapist. Now help me find one of those referees, so we can hurry up and go home. I have to pick Maya up from piano lessons in forty five minutes.” Ally bellows, “NO!” “NO?” “I don't take orders from you, Miss thang! I'm a baaaaaad type of p-i-m-p and you're my black man servant. Now get out on the street and earn my paper, bitch!” SLAP! “Sorry, I was reading the script for a Huggie Bear movie. Okie-dokie, artichokie, let's go-go Gadget go!” Suddenly, pandemonium erupts on the lot. The studio dwellers shriek and shout as they dive out of the way a rampaging golf cart. Even the caped crusader himself, Batman, isn't immune to the fright, and he claws and pushes at studio citizens to avoid the crazed cart which is going a whopping six miles per hour. The vehicle glides to a calm stop when it reaches the tag team champions, and from it's driver's seat steps Militia co-leader, One Eye Wallace. Situated in the passenger seat is one of the five referees for the bout, Japanese official, Okari Tanka. “Good afternoon, bitches. One Eye Wallace come to do damage.” “Ready Alix?” “Ready? I could do this blindfolded!” “Be my guest.” Krista retorts, handing Alix a strip of fabric from the [i]Scream[/i] costume. “Uhhh...maybe some other time. Heh-heh.” Krista springs forward first, knee angled for a kill. Alix leaps from One Eye's far side with a similar strike in perfect coordination. But the girls slam into each other in midair, for the hooligan is no longer between them. Alix looks up just in time to glimpse the bottom of Wallace's boot as it smacks her in the face, tumbling her towards the ground. She reaches into her expert gymnastic training to effortlessly right herself and touch down in perfect balance to spring forward as Wallace presses Krista away with a succession of flourishing, weaving jabs. Ally launches herself at the thug's back- and he half turns, whirling the night stick he stole from the security guard towards her head. She swats away the weapon, but a forearm catches her across the knees and bats her down to the pavement. She snarls to herself and stands up to rematch the powerful brawler. But an oversized plastic baby bottle (don't ask) is hurled from his hands, slamming into her and driving her back against the brick wall. Ally moans in anguish while her hands nurse her now badly bruised ribs. TAYLOR Marcellus Wallace is a tough customer! His nightmares could give Stephen King a run for their money. MELODY Why are you complimenting this jerk? Did he cosign a loan for you or something? While easily deflecting a rain of grey streaking thrusts from Krissy's oft-used tripod, One Eye hears the unmistakable whistle of the baby bottle zipping towards his head with astonishing speed. He scarcely manages to back roll quickly enough to avoid it before it can shatter his spine. His backroll brings him to his feet directly in front of Alix, who's charging towards him unarmed. Wallace neatly sidesteps her onslaught, cutting at her leg with a lariat as she sails through the sky. Yet Alix evades the cut as she passes, and manages to sweep her feet behind her to tag One Eye in the neck. Unfortunately her graceful leap puts her in Krissy's path, so that the fitness queen must dive past her descending partner.....depositing herself on the door step of Wallace's upraised knee. Krista drives a kick towards Wallace's chest as she pivots in the air, pushing her out of the way of his knee strike. Upon landing, she slashes her tripod towards his stomach, but Wallace side steps, causing the weapon to nearly impale a vexed Alix. “Wanna not try to carve my guts out, Xena?” She reprimands. “Wanna not try to be a vapid skank?” “No not really.” Bored with the inane chatter, Wallace leans into a haymaker aimed squarely at Krista's face. She deflects it with a rising parry of her makeshift spear, bringing the callous steel into his beefy chest. Though pushed back several inches, he recovers quickly enough to launch a counter strike Krista's way. But in the space where Krista once stood is now only the white lightening of Alix's super kick driving straight for his face. Only a desperate whirl to one side made would what would have been a broken nose, a line of scorch in the face of Okari Tanka, who keels over in intense agony. MELODY The Japanese guy is down right now, but when he awakens he will rise to a blank canvas of infinite possibilities. All the colors of the known and unknown universe will be at his disposal. JADE That's really eloquent, Mel. MELODY I heard it on Battlestar Galactica. Stricken with a sudden panic, One Eye springs away from the California girls to land in front of a door with the words “storage” written in vibrant bold letters. He disengages for a moment to regain his composure and wonder where the devil should Vincent and the rest of his gang be. “Let's kick him in the spleen, baby!” Alix screams at the top of her lungs. “Spleen?” “I've got an anatomy test on Tuesday. I'm sooooo gettin' my med school on. There's gonna be two doctors in this alternative lifestyle family!” By the time Wallace is ready to resume combat, a groaning Krista is there to meet him with her tripod, attacking with velocity so bewilderingly fast that One Eye dares not even strike back. He throws a feint punch towards Krissy's lovely face, then drops and spins into a reverse ankle sweep. But not only does Krista effortlessly overlap this strike, but Wallace almost loses his own footing to a leg sweep from Ally Cat. Alix then slams a giant plastic stalk of corn into her foe so hard that the shock of deflecting it buckles the man's elbows. Unable to power his way through COD's numbers advantage One Eye beats a hasty retreat, using his time spent as a high school track star to quickly out race the girls. His speedy feet take him into a surprisingly small outdoor forest set for the movie adaptation of [i]Where the Wild Things Are[/i]. The luscious tropics, and fabulously colorful foliage afford Wallace little protection from various attackers, and he's soon accosted by a new even more frightening adversary, an outrageously imaginative monster (or man in a monster costume) from the film. The colorful character stands several inches taller then the spooked human, and boasts a proud black mane, enormous ebony eyes that glisten like onyx gems, and bestial fangs. Coarse white fur covers his naked body, and razor sharp fangs protrude from his hands and feet. The animal regards the intruder with a look of confusion and understandable distrust. His curious eyes peer into One Eye, who's body is doused in sweat and trembling with fright. Left alone in what looks like an MC Escher painting with a nearly seven foot monstrosity, with all other traces of humanity having mysteriously disappeared , One Eye's dark face goes white with very real fear. “Got dayum, I ain't even trynna be part of this mess.” He mumbles, not wishing to upset the gruesome fellow. “If you up and leave this piece lookin' to come do me dirty, then my name is [i]Vincent Santana[/i] and I stay at 6099 90th street. Some niggas call me whitey, and I like to wear a long blond wig, and make my skin look real pale. Once again Vinny Santana, 6099 90th street.” Of course if One Eye wasn't an illiterate moron he might have read [i]Where the Wild Things Are[/i] as a child and known that the creatures were of a friendly nature. But he didn't read the book, and when the monster extends his hand in friendship and even grunts the word “Friend”, he reacts like the LAPD just busted in for a drug raid, and hauls ass out of the beautifully decorated jungle. Waiting for him at the edge of the forest with the rest of civilization are his much smaller, much more human foes, Chicks Over Dicks. The second he steps onto the pavement, Krista's spear is there to meet his neck. Only a frantic whirling block, coupled with a side kick that catches Krissy in the shin, buys him enough time to stay upright and leap away again; and when he touches down on his feet--- Alix is there to demolish him with a diamond cutter! TAYLOR I don't know how fun a diamond cutter onto concrete can be for the recipient or the person preforming the move, but it looks like it did the trick for the girls! Alix spots another referee, Clem Buzzlefoxer JR, making his way towards the chaotic scene to at least grant the appearance that this is an actual wrestling match. Strangely enough he's situated within an oversized shopping cart that's being pushed by cartoon skunk Pepe Le Pew. Alix decides it's best not to question this arrangement, and turns to Krista. “Don't you wanna pin One Eye?” Ally asks. “Don't you want to eat me?” “Here? Right now? In front of all these costumed cartoon animals? Hey, if you're amped on the whole furry scene, that's you're thing, but I....” “Is sex the only thing you think about?” “No, I think about unicorns. And popcorn mogul Orville Redenbacher. And what the world might be like were this mythical beast and snack food titan to have sexual relations.” Sighing to herself Krista waits for Buzzlefoxer JR to arrive to the pinning predicament When he finally does reach the brawl, she lies on top of her foe for the first official pinfall of the contest ONE TWO BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) COMES ZOOMING TOWARDS THE PINFALL, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES. MELODY ROTFLMAO! H@X0RED N00B! REPLAY IT! REPLAY IT! [quote]BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) ZOOMS PAST, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES.[/quote] MELODY ROTFLMAO! AGAIN! [quote]BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) ZOOMS PAST, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES.[/quote] MELODY AGAIN! AGAIN! AGAIN! [quote]BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) ZOOMS PAST, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES.[/quote] MELODY (foaming at the mouth and wildly waving her arms in the air) AGAIN, N00B STAIN!!!1111!!$%##$!!!! [quote]BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) ZOOMS PAST, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES.[/quote] JADE AGAIN! MELODY Jade, you disgust me. “Holy partially dismembered corpse Batman! That was pretty different.” Alix remarks. Krista replies, “If ever there was time to use the “did anyone get the license plate of that truck” line now would be it.” While busy and purposely oblivious studio executives walk past, stepping over Buzzlefoxer JR's mangled and bloody carcass, a groggy Wallace heads to his feet, totally unaware of what madness just transpired. What he is very aware of is the overhand chop being sent his way by Krista's blade. It slides off his instinctive guard, but the second strike meets with much greater success, scorching his shoulder blade. MELODY Remember when the referee got ran over by the Batmobile and DIED? LOL E-WRESTLING PALS! Marcellus slips away from an overhand slash, and springs backwards to reposition himself near the storage locker door. Krista leaps for him again, but this time One Eye meets her charge easily. Now it's his turn to launch a blustering attack, and he wastes little time in doing so, throwing his full weight behind bullish charge. Krista won't be mowed down by her bullying rival, and stands her pole onto the ground. The swordswoman uses it as pivot to thrust herself forward and meet her oncoming attacker with pressed together tennis shoes. Her feet act on her murderous will and crash into One Eye's face, vaporizing his short lived moment of offense. Wallace crumples into the storage locker door, face blank, mouth slack, eyes glazed over. One Eye, cringing and shrinking with dread, still finds some hope in his heart that his massive strength advantage has not failed him at the worst possible moment, that all is still proceeding according to plan- That is until Krista springs forward to spear(the actual move) his anguished body through the dilapidated doorway. The world seems to roll around the two, as they topple down a flight stairs in a pendulum like swing. Plaster fragments and hunks of rubble peel to the side, victims of the warriors' downward fury. Neither competitor treats the stairwell like the rocky surface it truly is, instead acting as if it is a corrugated stretch of floor, taking shots at one another while they ungracefully tumble to the bottom of the cliff. The once larger then life sports entertainers turn into tiny specks, for the camera man has no desire to follow them down and film their brewing hell storm. [font="Arial Black"][color="#008080"]Courtney Cox[/color][/font] strolls past by the anarchic display and comments, “Good lord, that Lisa Kudrow still has quite the temper I see. Poor Matt LeBlanc may never recover from the skunk incident.” “Alrighty then.” Alix says to herself, then shouts down to Krista. “While you spend quality time with an accused rapist, I'll just go find a referee who hasn't been caused permanent brain damage by a superkick, or hasn't been murdered by a classic piece of Americana. Okie dokie?” MELODY ROTFLOL! ONE! TWO! Ahhhhh I'm dead! ROTFLOL!` Alix's quest to hunt down those three remaining officials begins in earnest. She walks with her head on a swivel, and her steely grey eyes on constant alert. The only thing they seem to spot is the unusual assortment of props lying about the studio, overworked film crew, and stressed out actress and actors hammering their agent through a cellphone for getting them entangled into whatever ridiculous movie they're currently stuck shooting. Alix's examination is yielding little besides stares from gawking tourists, and an extreme amount of annoyance, and she has to rest her weary bones on a vacated golf cart to preserve what sanity remains. She pulls out her cellphone, furiously punching numbers as she prepares to unload on her own agent for talking her into an oaoast return. Her chastisement is delayed, however, by the shrill scream of an approaching woman. “There you are! There you are!” She belts. Alix watches a tiny woman, who appears to not have slept one hour in the past week, zip towards her, evading an assemblage of key grips, men in monkey costumes, tourist carts, and a cage housing an actual live lion. The woman's eyes are drawn to the strikingly beautiful, but highly perturbed culinary mogul. Even contorted in rage, her glassy eyes narrowed in disgust, Alix's face would be the envy of any aspiring supermodel. Her light brown hair hangs in disaray about her shockingly tan head and shoulders. Her pallid expression suggests to the lady that she must work with great haste to remove Alix from this unfriendly locale. “Come on, we've got to get you out of here!” The woman bays, taking hold of Alix's hand. At this point in time Allix assumes that anything would be preferable to participating in the oaoast's lunatic schemes, and eagerly goes along with the woman to free herself from the oppressive shackles of pro wrestling. JADE Uh, is that it? Is that how it ends? With a woman who looks like a sawed off Rosie O'Donnell kidnapping Alix to join some Hollywood cult? Alix, come back to us! MELODY Who let these motherf**** batmobiles on my motherf***** set? LOL! As they travel down the back lot curious eyes note their path, before turning back to whatever task lies before them. While she strides down the busy studio, she overhears snippets of various conversations, many revolving around a missing actress for the [i]Wonder Woman[/i] movie. Alix's mind is pulled back into reality when the woman leads her through the door of a soundstage. The first thing Ally notices upon entering the expansive structure is a chafed little man, baffled by mystery, marching towards her. His chest proudly bears a badge with the words executive producer scribbled across, alerting Alix to the fact that he a very important individual. The man leans forward to stare into her eyes with a measuring squint. “Six million dollars. Six million dollars? And this is what you're giving me? Showing up at...what time is it even?” He turns a spiteful glare to the female assistant “Did I not say to get her out of her trailer at eleven o'clock? Jesus creeping shit, I don't care how many pills she's overdosed on, pump this bimbo's stomach and get her ready. And why the hell isn't she in costume?” “Costume?” Alix questions, only have to a bundle of skimpy leather tights thrust into her arm by a wardrobe manager. The executive producer sighs. “The bigger their tits get the smaller their brains get. [font="Impact"][color="#FF0000"]Wonder[/color] [color="#0000FF"]Woman[/color][/font], Socrates. Wonder....Woman! Do you get me? Get in costume, and why is her hair light brown! Wonder Woman has dark black hair. Do you idiots in makeup not know that? Or am I working with the American union of fucking deaf, dumb and blind film staff? Get her in costume!” “Go, honey, go quick.” The female assistant pleads, but Alix remains shellshocked over having lucked into her first leading role in a movie you don't have to be 18 or older to buy. Thinking that Alix is off put by the prospect of another big budget comic book movie, female co-star, and daughter of Goldie Hawn....... [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/katehudson.jpg] [size="2"][b][font="Comic Sans MS"][color="#9932CC"]Kate Hudson[/color][/font][/b][/size] comes to console her. “Sweetie, it's gonna be okay. Look, sometimes you gotta do the safe picture, to do the artsy pictures. Sometimes you gotta do the pay your friend back picture, and sometimes you gotta do me [i]You, Me and Dupree[/i]” OWEN WILSON :( “Give me a tiger face.” Kate encourages the nervous gal. “RAWWWWR!” Alix howls with impressive gusto. “Monkey face!” “OOH-WAH! OOH-WAH! OOH-WAH!” Kate presents a dismissive wave of her hand. “Eh. That's more of an orangutan face.” “Same thing, babe.” “No, the orangutan is a member of the great ape phylum of primate classification. It's not a monkey, Alix.” “Hey, Goldie locks, who's the federal wild life marshal here me or you?” “Neither of us, actually. But it doesn't matter.” She turns to director Joss Whedon. “Where should we take it from?” “Take it from these nuts, bitch!” a man blusters from the distance. “What's the motherfucking name?” “Snoop Doggy Dogg?” Kate replies with a head shake. “Naw, bitch, Vinny Santana!” says the man himself, entering in full [color="#00FF00"][font="Arial Black"]Joker[/font][/color] from Batman costume, complete with trashy dark purple polyester suit, purple gloves, a green polka dot bow tie. “Affleck's finally gone off the deep end.” Kate laments with a depressed face. “The Joker” parts the sea of crew members, holding an actual sword in his hand, having learned the usage of a weapon from his ordeal with Krista. Alix(who managed to slip into the scintillating Wonder Woman costume in the confusion) picks up a knife and tosses it towards her rival. It moves with unbelievable velocity and strikes perfectly Santana in the chest. Unfortunately the knife is fake and plastic, thus it harmlessly falls to his feet. “I hate how fake Hollywood is.” Alix whimpers. “Here, catch!” The female assistant tosses a sword into Ally's waiting hands. “Do you just keep a finely sharpened medieval sword on you for such an occasion?” “It's a movie studio, we've got everything you could ever want.” “In that case, I could totally use a Death Star, like, right now!” “On backorder.” TAYLOR Wonder Woman against The Joker, every comic book nerd's dream match. I think Melody just passed out from ecstasy overload. JADE I better get [i]The Monty Python[/i] DVDs to revive her. Who needs DDTs, suplexes, and anklelocks when you can have god damn sword fight between iconic comic book characters? Glimmering blades cross, and the miniature volcano in the cave scene in the distance echoes their lightening with a shout of fire. Exchanges flash, leaps are side slipped or met with flying kicks, ankle sweeps are skipped over and punches are parried. A collection of light fixtures falls to pieces, as Vinny skirts backwards to avoid her latest thrust. Monitors explode in fountains of white hot sparks as spasming sword strikes rip through them. A roar of a kick blasts Vincent into a wall, smashing breath from his lungs, and drawing enthusiastic applause from the female assistant and Kate Hudson. The shot leaves the brawler half stunned, and swaying on his feet. Alix bounds over a group of wowed makeup artists and lifts her blade for the kill. “I don't remember seeing The Joker in the script.” The director, Joss Whedon, tells the executive producer. “There's a script?” Vincent has one trick up his sleeve, that's almost certain to save him from a grizzly end. He twitches one finger, pressing a button on his bow tie to emit a blast of water from a hole in the center. The stream catches Alix perfectly in the eye and wreaks havoc on her trajectory, causing her to not only miss Vinny by several inches, but for her weapon to tumble out of her hands. Vincent reaches forward. Her sword twists in the air and flips into his hands. Grinning devilishly he poised both lethal blades into a cross in front of him. “Ice cold, ho!” He belts. “I'm the best there ever was!” Alix roars her disagreement with that statement, and flies towards the skinny grappler, using her feet to crash him into the film crane once more. Snarling with a ferociousness that betrays her cute face, Her hands seize “The Joker's” wrist with impossible strength forcing his thin arms wide. Whitey feels the bones in his forearm bending, beginning to feather towards the greenstick fractures that would come before the final breaks. MELODY(waking up) Wait, what's going on? The Joker? Wonder Woman? Joss Whedon? Live? In front of my very eyes? Oooooooh..... FAINT! With “Wonder Woman's” grip on his wrists bending his arms near to breaking, forcing both their weapons down in a slow impossible arc, a whimpering Santana lets go. Startled by his sudden surrender, Ally instinctively shifts her grip, releasing one wrist to reach for her blade. In that same instant Whitey twists free of her other hand and catches up with his own sabre, reversing it through his forearm so that his quick parry of Ally's thundering overhand not only blocked the attack but directed both blades to slice into the crane against which he stood. He slides her proceeding thrust through the air behind him, guiding both blades up and over his head in a circular sweep, allowing him to use of Alix's next chop to drive himself backwards through area and into the high tech cave scene with it's billowing smoke and falling cylinders. Vinny takes a moment to scream,“Owen Wilson, you were my shit in [i]You, Me and Dupree[/i]” OWEN WILSON :) The brunette beauty follows, constantly attacking, forcing a worried Vinny to give ground and retreat along a narrow balcony of rocks. Ally Cat forces him back and back, slamming her blade down with strength that seemed to flow from the “volcano” bellow. “Down ya go!” she screams, spinning and whirling, carving up everything in her path. Vincent frantically backs to the end of a walk way, behind him is only a strip of rock no thicker then his arm, connecting to another balcony along the way. With no place else to go besides through her blade, Santana steps backwards onto the platform without much hesitation, his balance impossibly flawless as he deflects chop after chop. “Slice and dice is so very nice” She chuckles, following his retreat. Out on the tight rope of rock their blades blur faster then ever before, while Kate and the assistant inch closer to the brawl to cheer on Alix. They chopped and slashed and parried and blocked, neither one gaining any sort of upperhand. Smoke shrouds the nearby area, and the only real source of light comes from the glow of the fire pits bellow. In order to gain some type of advantage, Vincent springs from the tightrope onto a pillar of rock behind him. “Awww, you don't wanna play with me?” Alix bemoans, then flies in pursuit. Vincent leaps again, moving towards a set of makeshift rock stairs, this time launching a deck of razor sharp playing cards to delay her chase. Ally effortlessly evades the oncoming bullets, as she hurtles to her rival's location. They spin and whirl throughout it's levels, and across it's stalactite platforms. Alix kicks off a nearby pillar, and latches onto an overhanging cable to float herself above the scrambling, skidding world bellow. “ “You don't mind if I drop in on you?”, she asks. Putting her aerial advantage to excellent use, she swings through a wide arc over empty air towards her exhausted foe. But Vinny shoves out and meets her descent with his blade angled high. The adorable heroin responds by shifting her momentum in mid air and flicking a kick at his weak knees. The volley nearly topples Santana to a gruesome ending, but she's somehow able to retain his balance and live to continue the unorthodox fight. Moving with unusually fast speed, Vincent yanks his legs high before she can effort a second go round, and slashes the cable above Alix's hand. The onlookers spew forth shrills of horror, for it looks like the heroine may plummet to an unfortunate doom. But Alix has already shifted her momentum, swinging her back to the staircase and in reach of another cable. Knowing that he'll never be able to properly do battle with Alix if he's the only one who's stationary, he leaps onto a cable of his own, altering it's arc to reach the one from which “Wonder Woman” now dangles. But Alix, an expert gymnast of near Olympic level, is fully on her game and swings cable to cable against Vinny's advance, carrying herself across the landscape, requiring Vincent to do the same. A simultaneous crash of boots, carries them both spinning off the cables and onto a heavily slanted slab of karst (thing in a cave). While Alix's main cheerleaders, Kate Hudson, and the female assistant, sing her praises down bellow, “The Joker” heads to his feet. But he barely manages to get upright, before Alix pounces on him. They stand toe to toe, blades whirling and crashing on all sides, while the staff goes mindlessly about their business, thinking this is some sort of elaborate fight scene. TERRY This whole thing is pretty cool! JADE Terry, you wouldn't know cool if I dumped ice cubes down your pants! TERRY Krista has dumped plenty of ice cubes down my pants, so I think I have a good idea of what cool is, Jade. Vincent decides that he doesn't really wish to know what it's like to be stabbed through the chest, and turns Alix's sabre aside with a two handed block, following the strike with a solid kick that knocks the two apart and pushes her farther down the hill. Vinny trails her path, sprinting into a leaping dive, making a spear of his blade. “You are gonna be one sorry monkey!” Alix gleefully informs “The Joker”, as she leans aside and deflects his thrust almost contemptuously; she misses a cut at his legs as the brawler flies past him. He then turns his dive into a forward roll that left him barely teetering at the end of the slanted cliff. Vinny snarls a curse the second he realizes he has been suckered into affording his feisty foe the higher ground. “Alix to Air Traffic Control, I'm coming in for a landing!” She bellows then leaps towards her waiting adversary. He reaches his blade upward to cut at her oncoming knees--- Half a second to slow. Vincent's whirl to parry did not meet her knees as he had hoped, only the cold silence of empty air. Naturally she meets with far greater success then he, flushing him down with a simple enziguri that topples him forward, then rolls his empty husk of a body onto the floor bellow. The observers bestow a hearty round of applause, cheers, and adulation upon the beautiful victor. JADE An action sequence worthy of an MTV Movie Award, and Melody missed the whole thing. She's gonna be po'ed when she wakes up. Great job by Alix. Although Krista probably would've sliced off Vinny's fingers then served them as delicious snack treats for the crew, but not every one can be as great as Krista! “Please tell me someone got that on film!” Alix shouts with smug satisfaction. “Way to go!” Kate Hudson celebrates. Alix flicks her luscious hair in arrogance. “They don't call me sizzle lips Spezia for nothing” “What does that have to do with anything?” “Nothing really, I just thought you might like to know that they call me sizzle lips Spezia.” To make the situation even more joyful, Charles Robinson, comes plodding to the fallen Militia member. Alix requires no further cues, and applies what should be the winning pinfall. KATE ONE KATE TWO OWEN WILSON HITS ROBINSON IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD WITH A STEEL CHAIR! “What did you do that for?” The female assistant inquires. “This man, this Vinny guy, said he liked [i]You, Me and Dupree[/i]. That touched me in...a real special place. That is an exclusive club who's ranks decrease with repeated viewings, and I just can't afford to lose any more members. You guys know that! I'm sorry.” TAYLOR That leaves two referees, Clem Buzzlefoxer SR, who's living on borrowed time as it is, and the German Helmut Wolfgang. We're transported across the lot, where a most unusual scene is occurring in a bare bones office. Within the confines resides..... [img=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/biffreal.jpg] [b]Biff Atlas![/b] [img=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/flexnew.jpg] [b]Flex Phillips![/b] AND.... [img=http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/153/1120383~Gwen-Stefani-Posters.jpg] [b][color="#FFA500"][font="Arial Black"]Gwen Stefani[/font][/color][/b]!!! NRG founders, Flex Phillips and Biff Atlas are engaged in a heated round of negotiations with pop superstar Gwen Stefani. Standing in the background is the long absent German referee, Helmut Wolfgang. “I won't do it. Forget it, guys.” Gwen says with a touch of finality that imbecilic Flex fails to pick up on “Come on! It's the Flexster you're talking to. You have to do it.” Flex jabs his fingers into his pecs, as if accentuating his flopping man tities is some kind of new wave corporate negotiating technique. “I'm not endorsing anything from NRG. The last time I had one of your protein shakes, my skin was green for a week.” “Perfect for the role of She-Hulk! You were born to endorse the Chocolate Berry Blitz. Just try saying the slogan with me. It's Berryily Blitzxcellently Chocoblastltastic!” “Those aren't even real words, man.” Stefani corrects. “Flex,” Biff chimes in “Lemme handle this one. I am a pure ladies man. Observe.” Biff leans out an open window to hit on the most masculine looking lesbian, his idiotic mind can find. He motions her over with one finger, and she amazingly comes to greet him. “Baby, I just made you come with one finger, imagine what I could do with one hand.” “Drop dead asshole!” Gwen is saved from the meddlesome pitchmen when a pair of warring bodies comes bursting through the front door. They land like panthers on the floor bellow, and race to their feet to continue their vituperative slugfest. The camera pans out to reveal the two fighting beasts as none other then Krista Isadora Duncan and Marcellus Wallace. There is a striking oddity to their scrape, that of their highly bizarre choice of headgear. Krista's head is encased in a Bugs Bunny mask, while One Eye has chosen to shield himself with the visage of Bugs' archrival, Daffy Duck. “Save me, Madonna!” Biff shrieks, then hides behind the platinum recording artist. Despite the fact that he got her name wrong, and that neither competitor is paying a lick of attention to the witless duo, Gwen raises a chair to protect Biff from a beating he's sure is coming. “No body move, no body gets hurt!” She yells, angling the chair between the now frozen fighters. “Got dayum, ya'll white bitches crazy!” Wallace bemoans. Having seen similar situations countless times in Looney Lune cartoons, Krista simply points to One Eye and says “Duck season!” The chair moves towards One Eye's head forcing out a quick “Rabbit season!” “Duck season!” “Rabbit season!” “Duck season!” “Rabbit season!” “Rabbit Season” Krista says with a sly smile. “Duck season!” Wallace hollers, then shortly realizes the error of his ways. “Oh shit!” [color="#8B0000"][b]BAM![/b][/color] Stefani clobbers Wallace's face, shattering the mask into tiny black and orange specks, and pulping him into the carpeted floor. Krista discards her disguise, as she leaps on top of him for a pin; which is scored by the German official. JADE This might be it. Krista's gonna win, just like always! ONE TWO A veil of red suddenly descends upon Wolfgang's world. He claws at his throat, but there is nothing there his hands can touch. He wants to scream, to beg, to howl, but his locked throated strangles all words within his neck, and the world of crimson smokes towards black. The ground falls away beneath him, and a white flash of impact blasts him into an unknown abyss. Gwen rushes to check on the immobile referee's condition “Oh my god.” She murmurs, searching out a pulse. “This dude is dead. He choked to death.” “Jesus tap dancing Christ!” Krista whines, clasping her golden locks in frustration. “On what?” A shrug of the shoulders. “Not sure.” The answer to that million dollar question is revealed when the bloodless fingers of the deceased German uncurl to reveal the empty wrapper of an NRG Strawberry Smash protein bar. Biff and Flex turn to each with mouth held agape. “Uh...” Flex stammers. “That ain't got nothing to do with us!” He exclaims, then he and his partner in crime head for the hills, not intending on stopping until they reach Mexico. MELODY Biff reminds me of one of those dorks on message boards who post pictures of their woman and act like "Yeah, look at my two hundred ten pound cutie, she's so awesome and SEXXY and don't you think" and it just makes me cry for their lack of self-awareness. “Wow, that's kinda crappy.” Gwen notes “I know! Now there's only one referee left, and he's eighty something years old, and is most likely already dead, with his corpse on the way to a land fill on San Diego. Shit, shit, shit! There's gotta be someone who can do something.” Maybe there is, maybe there it isn't. Regardless, Krista holds out hope, and exits the office to continue the eternal search. She stands on the studio lot, scanning for any sign of the last remaining official, Clem Buzzlefoxer SR. With no sight of him in the immediate vicinity, Krista realizes she'll have to go on an in depth man hunt. But her weary legs, and tired body make no bones about their distaste for expansive movement and force her into checking for the referee in a nearby trailer. “Hello?” She peers into the lavishly decorated area. “ Clem, come on out, buddy! One of the groundskeepers found your tube of condisil cream! Here's the match over here, Clem! And here's your head, far away from the match and jammed right up your wrinkled ass! Get out here now!” “What are you doin..” A female voice calls out, but stops short to instead say, “Oh, it's you! Finally!” Peering from behind the counter is Oscar award winning actress and dead ringer for Krista, [b]Charlize Theron[/b]. She leaves behind her pot of gumbo to dart to the doorway and give a throughly confused Krista an enormous hug. “I know we've talked to each other at awards shows and everything, and we'll probably chat at the Oscars on Sunday, but it's so great to finally get to talk, in private, with the woman who's life story I'm bringing to the big screen.” CONFUSION! “Didn't your agent tell you? I'm playing you in [i]Dying to FIT in: The story of Krista Isadora Duncan[/i]! It's a movie about your life! I can't believe that dirt merchant prick of an agent never mentioned it” “Yeah, well, that's the last time I ever use an agent who list his references as Dick N. Cider, Haywood Jablowme, and Mike LaToris. So, you're playing me, huh? I don't really see any resemblance.” Patty sez: LOL! “I have studied every aspect of your life, Krista. I know your hopes, your dreams, your thoughts and fears. I know that you want more for your life then putting out thirty minute exercise videos to help lonely housewives get a better bikini BUTT. I look into your beautiful blue eyes and see a sad soul crying out, when lord, when? When can your lowly servant be free of this immature, ditzy life partner to whom I am a constant victim of her every gaffe, every folly, every fault, so much so that it has pushed me to most dangerous stages of alcoholism and drug abuse. Fuck! When, lord? When I goin' be free?” Just hearing the words that have passed through Krista's mind countless times over the past five years, causes Krista to lose all emotional control and opens a flood gate of tears that have been waiting to be free for half a decade. She falls against Charlize's shoulder,salty tears pouring down her reddened cheeks. But her sob session is halted by distinctive sound of a motorcycle being started outside the trailer. “What on earth?” they ask at the same time, while they journey to the window. The two women spot One Eye Wallace mounting a motorcycle, taking it to search out his comrade and hunt down Alix. “I gotta get to that [i]Cool Runnings[/i] prick. But how can I keep up with a motorcycle?” “They're filming one of those ridiculous made for TV westerns right around here. Steal a horse, and go [i]Tombstone[/i], Kurt Russel style.” Charlize suggests Not the most responsible or safe of ideas, but if you're playing Krista in a movie, then you know all about her habit of making as many unsafe, irresponsible, high risk, and possibly death inducing choices as a twenty four hour period will allow. Krista thanks her doopleganger Charlize for the moment of therapy and advice, and bids her farewell, before stepping back into the outside world. From around the corner she hears a resonant [color="#4B0082"][b]NEEEEEIGH[/b][/color], as if a horse had just swallowed an air horn. The actual animal itself quickly extends around the trailer, where Krista rekindles her childhood love for horse riding by leaping onto it's saddle. “Message to horse...move your ass!” Krista shouts, which sadly is exactly how she spoke as a cute but potty mouthed eight year old. MELODY All this competition, this chase for glory, makes me think of resurrecting my childhood dream of being an Olympic speed skater. JADE You know Olympic athletes don't make any money? MELODY No money? Forget it, I'll just stick to Crackdown for 360. 7.4? Yeah, right Gamespot.com go to hell! Dumbass Wii fanboys. The horse (who we'll just call Bethani), gatherers herself and springs down the road, dodging past the outraged movie director, who screams at Krista for stealing the central character of his low budget film. Farther away from the outlaw duo, One Eye encounters his first obstacle, two crew members moving a worn out couch across the street into a prop closet. His vehicle sprays a fan of white hot sparks as he whips sideways, narrowly avoiding a bloody collision with the stagehands. Seconds later Krista and Bethani face the same challenge, but handle it with far more grace then Wallace ever could. Shifting towards their right they avoid the workers altogether by moving onto a ramp in front of craft shop. Krista grabs an American flag that was being held by one of the workers and launches it like a missile towards Marcellus' head. Howling in terror, One Eye zig zags about, and the pole passes through the space where his face used to be, skidding to the ground. TAYLOR Salute the flag, Melody and Jade. MELODY I'm Canadian. JADE And I'm a Virgo. Krista rejoins One Eye on level ground, where he uses the mechanical power of his bike to push some distance between the two. But thanks to the glut of studio dwellers seemingly conspiring to get in his way, he's never able to build the speed he truly needs, thus Krista's right on his tail. In an effort to totally block Krista's path he makes a sharp turn down an “alleyway”, cutting to the side of a dumpster he knows Krista and her horsie will never be able to maneuverer around. He's absolutely right, they don't maneuverer around it- They eclipse it entirely in one beautiful jump, not losing a single inch on One Eye. Not willing to admit defeat, Wallace repeats the same tactic, pulling his bike in front of an approaching golf cart. The golf cart swerves to miss a passing One Eye, but in the process, blocks the easy path of Bethani and Krista. Bethani coils herself and springs over the cart, and the chase is on once more. MELODY You know who's a huge turd? People on message boards who sign each post, and then even personalize each one which makes it even more loathsome. "JOEY128. (Proud as hell of my little lady!)" Yeah smoke crap N00b! Ooookay. They race through an outdoor set of [i]Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince[/i], clawing along hills and ravines, shooting past battling wizards, skidding and leaping, sprinting where the way is clear, and skidding to highpowered stops when it's not, whipping around knots of extras and bounding over crew. One Eye no longer holds any concern for the innocents, running through anything that stands in his path, the blades of his bike mowing through the set with indiscriminate destruction. MELODY I also hate those guys on message boards who have to “show off “ the fact that they're getting hitched when the ring they bought their fat monkey whore looks like something they won playing the claw game. Krista's hands chuck a series of wizard staves towards her foe, which he narrowly avoids as they make their way back into the central lot. “Let's get a little closer, eh.” She mutters. Bethani gains steadily. One Eye's vehicle has the edge in raw speed, but Beth can out turn it and make instant leaps at astonishing angles. The horse also owns uncanny instinct for where the brute might be heading and seemingly infinite knowledge of useful shortcuts to maintain pace with the man. One Eye tries once again to block Kris' path , screeching out into a nearly impossible to navigate maze of golf cart, pick up truck, and delivery truck. Impossible to navigate for anyone besides Krista that is. Krista motions Bethani to leap towards the roof of the cart. The weight of the thin plastic won't hold Beth for long, thus the horse makes the leap onto the trunk of the pickup truck. From there she sets her feet back on the ground, and the chase resumes, the pairing not losing a single inch on One Eye. With a burst of sustained effort that strangles her neighing, Bethani finally pulls alongside One Eye as they near a massive soundstage. Krista leans forward, stretching out a metal pole she had picked up along the way, barely able to reach the wheelers back curve, and carved away an arc of the bike's back tread, making the vehicle buck and skid. “One more leap, Bethani!” Krista pleads “Bring me even with him!” The horse complied with order, and One Eye swerved again heading towards the enormous open garage door of the sound stage. As they clear the first row of alarmed crew members, Krista leaps from the saddle to swing both her boots into the side of Wallace's head. The vehicle's internal workings screamed at the sudden impact and shift of balance. Their shrieks cycled up as burst of smoke and fragments metal as their catastrophic failure sent the bike tumbling in a white hot cascade of sparks. Krista leaped free of the crash, and the momentum tosses Wallace out of the pilot's seat and in the opposite direction. “Hey!” Screams Kate Hudson, cluing us into what sound stage we're actually on. “ There's Krista Isadora Duncan! I bought up all her exercise videos when I was pregnant. Alix, she's with you, you have to help her.” “Help, is a funny word, Kathryn. Sometimes the moose head on the wall at my grandpa's house asks for help and tells me to travel to Manitoba to tell his children to bear arms and avenge his humiliation at the hands of the White Devils. Other times it asks me why they took [i]In Living Color[/i] off the air, and I'm like, dude, I just don't know.” Down on the floor, One Eye and Krista resume their epic clash. A blooded haze settles over her vision as she fights tooth and nail with the fearsome werewolf. One Eye's claws rake her skin, digging deep bruises into her flesh, but the pain only increases the fury raging within her. She gives as good she gets, picking up any discarded object from the floor and ripping into Wallace's facial features with furious force. JADE Come on Krista! You can do it! Come on! MELODY If you love Krista so much why don't you marry her, huh? JADE Why don't you STFU AND GTFO?! Wallace holds the weight advantage over Krista, though, which he presses by knocking the woman onto her back. The beast pounces on top of Krissy, pinning her to the floor while his fists zoom towards her face. She tucks her chin to protect her face, then with an explosive movement, rotates to the right throwing One Eye off of her. Before the Militia member can regain his footing, Krista springs on top of him, holding a video monitor within her trembling hands. She stares furiously into the warrior's black eyes, seeing in his bestial face, every last ordeal and problem he and his associates have brought her and Alix over the past month. She pounds the gladiator's snout with her monitor taking out her pent up fury on the creature beneath her. “No!” Vincent belts, hurriedly pulling his broken bones to their upright position. He turns to his “brother's” defense, and Alix spots her window of opportunity. She surges forward and drives her fingers into his throat, then follows that up with a viscous knee to the groin. He doubles over in raw pain just in time to see the horrifying vision of Krista taking one last hellish swipe through One Eye's face. “Hot damn! This movie is gonna make Police Academy 3 look like Police Academy 5!” Owen Wilson shouts to Kate Hudson who just shakes her head in pity. Blood spouts like a fountain from the gangbanger's ruined face. He clutches at the mangled flesh with his huge mishappen hands, but there is no recovering from such a wound. He tries to roar but all that emerges from his gaping mouth is a wet gurgle. He topples over onto the wet concrete. His arms and limbs twitch convulsively before he finally falls silent. JADE Yeah, Krista! I knew she could do it! I knew it! I knew it! She's the best. An anguished cry erupts from Vinny's throat. The sight of One Eye's defeat launches him into a murderous rage that easily overcomes the pain Alix just inflicted on him. He springs to his feet like a demon freshly released from hell. He attacks Alix with renewed fury, forcing her back towards the pit of fire in the cave scene until the blaze is right behind her shoulders. She fights back as best she can, parrying his blows with every last of her strength, but quickly finds herself on the defensive. His right hand closes about her throat, drawing blood with his claws, and she gasps for breath. His flesh feels sick and slimy against her skin, even as he crushes her windpipe with killing force. Using everything in her body, she pries his hand off her throat and thrust it down to the fire pit bellow! In the blink of an eye, Vinny removes his hand from the vat. But the damage is already done, he screams in torment, then acts on his rage by spearing her right through the chest, blasting her near the fire pit. She gasps out loud, as Vinny nears her, his barred fangs giving way to evil intentions. A thin smile comes onto his hideous face, as his eyes dart between her body and the pool of fire. But Alix isn't willing to accept defeat, and reaches behind her to grab one of the discarded blades. She drives the BUTT end of the sword up his chin so hard that it's a surprise when it doesn't emerge through the top of his head. He stares at her in absolute shock, blue eyes filling with blood, before [i]Krista[/i] spins him around and shoves him towards the smoldering heat bellow. “Give up?” Krista asks with an icy cruelty taking shape in her voice. Defiant as ever, he spits the word no to her face. His refusal gives her the exact excuse she needed to devilishly to lean his head closer to flames of hell. “Give up?” It comes out as more of an order then an actual question, her tone taking on something less then human. Flames lick the fringes of his shaggy blond hair, blackening the ends, charring it altogether at some points. Distressed cries seep from his lips, playing traitor to his desire to remain stoic. His body writhes in a panicked frenzy, but all that does is cause his tormentor to tighten her grip and happily direct his head closer to the executioner. In the end there is only one choice for Santana. A choice Vincent is loathe to make, but one his unenviable positioned has required him to state. “Fine! I submit! Fuck!” He screams in agonized depression, gritting his teeth, nearly grinding them into pearly white dust. Between coughing sobs, he weakly taps out to physically gesture his twenty six thousand dollar failure. “Good enough for me!” Cries the last remaining referee Clem Buzzlefoxer. The 88 year old is being transported into the area on a golf cart, driven by the same security guard One Eye punched out at the start of the match. Buzzlefoxer hops off the cart, with pants unzipped and unbuttoned, shirt on backwards, and strange liquid substance on his right hand. He runs over to the girls to raise their arms in victory, but they spot the sticky white substance on his hand and take a rain check on that formality. Owen Wilson rushes to Vincent's side, not to check on his condition mind you, but to get more compliments on [i]You, Me and Dupree[/i]. The surrounding staff throw up an enormous cheer for COD's victory, with Kate Hudson and the female production assistant running to Alix's side to exchange high fives. Kate quips “I guess Vincent didn't know that [i]smoking[/i] is bad for your health.” “It's too bad he couldn't handle the [i]heat[/i].” Alix comments “I'm sure he's feeling the [i]burn[/i] right about now.” Kate responds “Oh, he's most definitely [i]aflame[/i] with anger” JADE Whoo! They did it! Alix and Krista won the first ever Battle of Los Angeles match and keep their titles! Awesome! Although I didn't really do anything but sit here and talk, I feel like it's my own personal victory! MELODY I bet that's the last ever Battle of Los Angeles match. If this company heads into bankruptcy anytime soon you can blame this one for it. TAYLOR Let's go to Rodney Dangerfield for the official announcement.... DANGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ JADE Or not. We go back to the winner's circle where Krista and Alix are chatting up about their victory. “Krissy, we're so awesome right now!” Alix exclaims, as she traps Krista within her arms. “You mean I'm so awesome.” Krista retorts only half sarcastically. “Wha? We did it together!” “Well, I was the one who rescued you from being charred to a little spicy chiquita, and who figured out to win the match in the first place, and who had to get Seabiscut to chase down Ghost Rider, so you know...” “No way!” “Way!” “Okay let's make up.” Alix decides. “What?” “I'm done arguing let's kiss and make up” “We can't, nobody won!” “Okay you win.” “No I didn't. “Okay, I won! Yea!” “You can't do that!” “Boy, you like to argue” “No I don't.” “Then stop” “We're not done” “Yes we are.” “No we're not!” TAYLOR Uh, goodnight from Burbank everyone! Alix and Krista, should they stop fighting, will see you from the Oscar's red carpet, or maybe they already saw you, because I don't know when this show will air, Melody will see you from behind a computer screen insulting you from halfway across the country, and Jade and I will see you at the arena! JADE Hey, I wanna cruise by some swank Hollywood parties with Krista and Alix! TAYLOR I think D*Lux is waiting for you, Jade. JADE Right. I forgot. MELODY All n00bs die slow! [IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/thatsallfolks.jpg]

My match will be up in like half an hour or less. I'd make an excuse for being late, but the truth is I am a bad person and I purposely pee on toilet flushers so people will have to touch my pee should they desire to flush their waste down the toilet. I'm that kinda dude, yeah that's my crip side.

word as fuck. Show was better then I thought it would be from looking at the booking thread, I know I didn't even plan on doing anything for it.

scvhivh8erhrfhfv hvhvvh! jzjjz?

wheeeeeeeeeeeeee! COLE I don't remember what just happened five seconds ago, but I bet it was awesome! Now let's head backstage where Terry Taylor is with the only two people keeping him employed, Alix Maria Spezia and Krista Isadora Duncan. And we're whisked backstage where comedic prop extraordinare, Terry Taylor is chillin like a villain in the low budget interview area. He's outfitted in the geekiest of attire, white sweat pants, a gold Anglemania jersey, and thick rimmed glasses. Standing next to him are the much more pleasing sites of tag team champions, Alix and Krista. Alix has packed her figure into a faded green [i]Abercrombie[/i] hoodie, and a heavily destroyed denim mini skirt. Krista stylishly models a pair of True Religion jeans, overloaded with all over fray distress, and a [i]Primp Lion[/i] pink hoodie, which features cute little lions sprinkled all across the fabric. Fashionable. Very. TAYLOR Ladies and gentlemen, Terry Taylor here with oaoast tag team champions, Chicks Over Dicks. As we all know, it's the biggest award season of the year, as all eyes are turned upon Hollywood, where the 79th Academy Awards will be decided this Sunday night. But just a day before that (or a couple days after that, depending on if the shooting permit holds up), a prize almost as important as an Oscar, the oaoast world tag team titles will be contested by Los Angeles natives the South Central Militia and Chicks Over Dicks in the first ever Battle of Los Angels match, broadcasted from Warner Brothers' studio in Burbank, California. The match follows similar rules to a regular contest, pinfalls, and submissions win the bout. But the entire studio functions as the ring, and anything the competitors can get their hands on can be used to win the match. As the lead announcer for the title bout I for one am personally looking forward to it, and not just because I might be able to get Daffy Duck's autograph! KRISTA Back the stupidity train into the station of unadulterated ignorance for a second. I'm sorry but did you just claim that a professional wrestling title was as important as the Academy Awards? Because if you did, I'd probably have run you over repeatedly with my Toyota Prius, and I'd hate to do that kind of thing twice in one day. TAYLOR I said almost! KRISTA Almost as in Hillary Swank is almost as good an actress as Naomi Watts, or almost as in Paris Hilton is almost as good an actress as the Oscar nominated and all around kick ass Meryl Streep? TAYLOR The latter. Good lord, definitely the latter. I don't have the health insurance for it to be the former! KRISTA Good boy. TAYLOR Now, girls, your opponents for the Battle of Los Angeles, the South Central Militia, Vincent “Whitey” Santana, and One Eye Wallace, abused a good hearted charity auction to secure their tag title rematch. What do you.... ALIX Slow down, go down, got to get your lovin one more time! I don't think they're actually watching this, Terry! So I'm gonna scream, extra, extra super sized loud so that they can hear me loud and clear! Vinny, Marcy, I'm totally aware of the miserable plight that faces the Los Angeles public school system, and I'm sooooo sensitive to the fact that your schools probably never ever taught you how to work this fancy, newfangled, invention those of us who didn't get our last meal (and our last sexual act for that matter) from a dumpster behind Dairy Queen, call the Television. Can you say that? Tel-e-vision. Goodie goodie gum drops! Now I want you to go find a black or grey box. Within that box will be a dark grey plane of glass. That's a TV! No, silly boys, you're not on the TV, that's your reflection! Reflection starts with an R. R comes after..uh..actually I don't know what R comes after. Who cares this isn't [i]Reading Rainbow[/i]. Go ahead and wave to your reflection! It's waving back! That's totally amazing, huh? Well, that's what your reflection does! Now do you see a little button that says “ON”? O-N. Keep looking, Vinny. No that's volume, no that's a donut, no that's Gene Okerlund's liver spot, no that's the stuck together pages of Terry Taylor's [i]Seventeen[/i] magazine, and we don't judge his sick fixation on sixteen year old pop starlet JoJo around here, so keep hunting for that o-n button, kiddos. Okay, you're getting warmer, you're warmer, you're hot, you're hot, so, so, so hot, you're phat, you're crunk, you're hyphy, you're FERGILICIOUS..DEFINITION MAKE THEM BOYS GO LOCO....you got it! Now press it, gently, very gently! You did it! Now our beautiful, award winning, newest Revlon covergirls faces are right in front of ya. Waaaaait....Vinny, stop that! Don't lick the screen, we're not [i]really[/i] there. Oh god no! No! That disgusting! Marcellus, you pull your pants up right this minute, young man, that is not how we conduct ourselves here in the hallowed halls of the OAOAST! Ooookay, well, there you have it boys, and uh...boys, the exciting world of prime time low rated cable television wrestling at your fingertips. So concludes todays lesson. But, uh, don't get the impression that I'm some kinda of dorky bookish sort......y'know, with pocket protectors and membership in the chess club who never gets laid...I do other things, I have other interests, like standing in front of 7-11 and selling marijuana to fifth graders. TAYLOR Well, Alix, I'm sure the Militia are very appreciative of your lesson in modern technology. But I for one think that they are a couple of, pardon my frankness, disrespectful jerks... ALIX Disrespectful jerks? Wow, dude, careful there, that envelope might take itself a tumble with the way you're recklessly pushing it! Hammer don't hurt 'em! TAYLOR Krista, as someone who can more articulately state her distaste for those with a y chromosome then I, I'd like to get your thoughts on the Militia. No doubt, they're mighty tough foes, who have given many oaoast tag teams fits. They are, after all, a pair of very bad men. KRISTA Woah! Here I was, a simpleton of the highest order, thinking that after the announcers repeated that same line ad nauseum every time the viewers of America were unlucky enough to suffer the cruel and unusual punishment of a south central militia match, that that point had hit home, took a nice bubble bath, watched some Leno, checked it's e-mail, dropped some comments on Facebook, and fell asleep. When in reality it was standing on the lone highway of thoughts, cold, alone and miserable, desparetly trying to hitch its way towards "No Shit" city. But then you, a hero amongst heroes, rode along in your "Statingthefuckingobvious” mobile and decided to drive it home at 100 mph. Thank you, dear sir, for without your kind services and good heart, who knows at what time the point would have gotten home. Alix, a true American hero stands among us hedonistic Zionists and far left commie thought terrorists. Show respect for a patriot! ALIX (singing. poorly.) Got in a little hometown jam, so they put a rifle in maaah haaand, sent me off to a foreign laaaand, to go and kill the yellow maaaan, Boooooorn in the u.s.aaaaaa., I was boooooorn in the u.s.aaaaa.! TAYLOR God damn it, Krista, you're a hateful temptresses. But I'll make a woman out of you, if it kills me. Now then, I have to believe that you're somewhat upset that the Militia have corrupted the spirit of what was supposed to be an auction that spread the message of peace and understanding. Am I right? KRISTA How could I be mad at the SCM? It warms the coffers of my blackened cancerous heart, to know that while I continue to lead the life of an insane alcoholic recluse hellbent on a prolonged suicidal spiral into a booze filled abyss , there are peeps out in the world that have a firm lip lock on life's rock hard phallus and refuse to let go till they've deep throated every last droplet of that fun-loving, wealth providing seed. Drink up, South Central Militia! Let the piping hot sperm of achievement trickle down your thirsty gullet of success! Terry, how could I ever hold any ill will towards Vincent Santana and his chocolate prince, Marcellus One Eye Wallace? Possibly wasting my weekend, for absolutely no extra money or real purpose, by handing the SCM their asses at the studio that produced such thought provoking, and emotionally riveting fare as [i]Osmosis Jones[/i], [i]Catwoman[/i], and [i]Malibu's Most Wanted[/i] may be that unattainable high that I know I'll never reach again. What a couple of punkass bitches. ALIX Yeah! You tell 'em my honey covered love biscuit! TAYLOR Punkass bitches? Krista, you just said.... KRISTA It's called Sarcasm, Terry, maybe if you had the capacity to actually be entertaining, you might one day be able to utilize it. Until then, keep your chin up and keep shooting for that rainbow, young buck. But what I'm about to tell you is the realness, coming for you, too fast, too furious. I'd call the Militia worthless pieces of shit, but the esteemed fecal category is an honor that should only be reserved for golden nuggets such as yourself, Bill O'Reiley, Tim Hardaway, or Christian Wright and Theodore Moneymaker. Unfortunately, I think One Eye and the skinny white meth addict, I forgot his name, have successfully rammed their way through the doors of the pieces of shit hall of fame, because the eternal case of diarrhea that is the Militia continues to undulate the Los Angeles area with it's special brand of festering, rotten, discolored, fecal water. Well, as a tax paying resident of the City of Angels, I say it's high time for an enema of epic proportions. In the gene pool of my fair city, they're the urine spot left by the retarded fat kid, and thus the rest of the denizens can only thank god herself that we are not them. ALIX Power to the people, my golden haired sugar fairy! KRISTA Militia, what I, Krista Isadora Duncan, soon to be PhD, author of an insanely popular advice column on Cosmo's website, and maker of one hell of a tuna casserole suggest that you do, is instead of showing up for a Battle of Los Angles match, you stay where you live, right on 90th street in South Central LA, because as far as I, your queen and ruler, am concerned that is your entire world, that is your entire Los Angeles. Your Los Angeles begins at Sweet Lou's chop suey, and ends several steps later at Chung's Exxon Mobile. Your Los Angeles doesn't have a Beverly Center, it doesn't have a Riot Hyatt, a Dodger Stadium, a Roxy, a Tower Records, or a Whiskey A Go Go. Your LA has a Popeyes, a Joe's Liquor and bail bonds, a Blockbuster that's so out of date they still rent Colecovision, and a one eyed hooker with a third nipple that everyone visits, but won't admit it. ALIX One eyed? Hooker? Third Nipple? With? Hey, you know my Aunt Lucinda! Tell her little Ally said hi! KRISTA (cont) That's your LA, 90th street, nothing else. Everything outside of 90th is my LA, and mine alone. And if you bums cross that thin red line into Krista Isadora Duncan's territory, for any reason whatsoever, I promise you that I will lodge everyone of my five hundred pairs of shoes right up your ass. You'll eat Lacoste, shit Juicy Couture, spit Guess, piss Taryn Rose, vomit Adidas, and breathe Kenneth Cole. So what I suggest you do, if you want to avoid a steady diet of six hundred dollar Kate Spade pumps, is forget the Battle of Los Angeles, go into Joe's Liquor and Bail Bonds, get yourself a bottle of Crown Royal, on me, sit your asses down on the curb and be thankful your queen even let you have that. I'm Krista Isadora Duncan, and I'm such a bad woman, AIDS is too scared to catch me. TAYLOR My word! SCM, if you have any idea of what's good for you, you'll stay on 90th street and 90th street alone! And if you happen to make your way down to Popeyes, pick me up a 12 strip dinner. Love that chicken from Popeyes! Fans, I'm Terry Taylor, and I will see you in Hollywood. Good night, and good health.

There may be a "Battle of Los Angeles" match for the tag team titles between COD and the SCM broadcasted from the Warner Brothers' movie studio, but that has as good a chance of being on next week's HD as it does of being on syndicated.

Name: Baron Windels Alias: The Lone Star Gunslinger Age: 28 Height: 6'7" Weight: 265 lbs. Hometown: San Antonio, Texas Alignment (heel, face, tweener): Babyface Wrestling style (brawler, cruiserweight, technical, all-rounder, etc.): Texan brawler Theme music: "Thriller", Fallout Boy Entrance Style (what color pyro, spotlights, etc.): The nonsensical entrance music selection of Thriller by Fall Out Boy drifts into the arena, giving birth to an excited murmur from the Tampa crowd. Red and blue lights splash across the landscape, as an orange pyro missle descends from the peak of the overhead scoreboard and onto the entrance stage. It lands with tremendous impact, nearly deafening those spectators unlucky enough sit near it. Immediately after the powerful pyro display concludes the lights dim to a troubling blackness. The home audience is shown an overhead view of the entrance stage, it's metallic floor carpeted by simmering flames that form the shape of a bull's head. The camera then pans downward to reveal the rugged tag team known as The Lonestar Gunslingers and their manager Melody Nerdly. Mel “blesses” them with a plethora of senseless, ill-thought, managerial advice as they head to the ring. Entrance attire (sunglasses, robe, jacket, etc): Open white jacket with the state of Texas embroidered on the back, worn over a Stewie Griffin t-shirt forced on him by Family Guy's number one fan Melody Nerdly. Ring attire: White trunks, burnt orange kneepads and white boots. Finishing Move(s) (try to keep it to 1 or 2): Superplex Brigham Young Cocktail- Leaping DDT Signature Moves (ex: Shining Wizard, Rolling Germans, etc.): Cowboy Bebop- Bionic Elbow, named by unashamed anime enthusiast, Melody Nerdly Devil's Addiction- Fallaway Slam Myspace Comeback- Boomerang lariat. Guess who named this one. Bite My Shiny Metal Ass- BUTT bump, inherited use of the move by queen of geekdom, manager Melody Nerdly. Originally Jock's move. Russian Legsweep Top Rope Lariat Big Boot Basic moveset: Like his partner, some old school brawling and wrestling. Nothing flashy. Although Melody is constantly prodding him to add some “wicked bad flippy crap” to his otherwise pedestrian arsenal. Manager/valet/sidekick: Melody Nerdly Catchphrases/Trademark gestures: N/A History/Background/Career Highlights: Arrived as part of The Lone Star Gunslingers with partner Jock Mulligan. Thanks to a foolish, libido spurred decision to add Melody(and her enormous breasts! LOL!) as their manager, the Lone Star Gunslingers, became a strange amalgamation of sixties masculine cowboy ideals, and the fantasy scenster boyfriend of Melody. Amazingly enough, the world's laziest woman managed to turn herself into a competent manager and turn The Gunslingers into a driving force in the tag team division. It all culminated on January 3rd, when they won the OAOAST World Tag Team Championships. However, relations soured after the cowboys dropped the belts. Upset at being seen as the 'junior' member of the team, Jock grew bitter towards Baron for being over-protective and towards Melody in general. Just when differences seemed to have been patched up, Jock snapped on the "House Of Worship" and threw Baron through a stained glass window of the set. With Jock gone, Baron must now cope with life as the lone Lone Star Gunslinger, but still has Ms. Melody to guide his career. Titles Held OAOAST Tag Team Championships - January 3rd, 2008 - February 28th, 2008 (w/Jock Mulligan) Name Melody Nerdly Age 28 From Edmonton, Alberta, Canada Height 5'6 Weight Who knows? Attire Tie up midriff exposing red flannel shirt, daisy duke shorts, and cowgirl boots. Trademark gestures and crap Dispenses some of the worst managerial advice known to man. Melody's computer geek personality does not match her stunning beauty. She will at times talk in net speak, reference shows, websites, and games heavily popular in “dork” culture. Her primary obsession lies with World of Warcraft, and the pwning of “nubs”, and “ganking” of lames. Her communication with the outside world comes mostly from comments on Myspace, AIM chats, text messages, Youtube videos, and highly contested games of Madden on Xbox Live for Xbox360. Bio The third oldest girl in the tragically uncool, Western Canadian Nerdly family, Melody is best known as the elder sister of former tag team champions, and Teen People Magazine's sexiest tag team, Melvin and Marvin Nerdly, The Sk8r Boiz. Melody entered the oaoast in spring of 2006 to capitalize on her brothers' sudden surge of popularity, and perhaps take on a managerial role with the team. Unfortunately, that linkage was rendered nearly impossible thanks to the fact that they don't exactly get along. Thus Melody's role became that of a shiftless lay about, gossiping recklessly, and interjecting herself into business where it doesn't belong. The Edmonton native made fast friends with Jade Rodez, thanks to the younger girl's bewildering amazement over Melody's ability to make it through life by doing as little work as humanely possible. Recently, Mellow Yellow was stricken with a terrible fear that she was soon to be on the company chopping block. Unwilling to pay a visit to the unemployment office, Melody sought out sage tribe mother, Krista Isadora Duncan. Krissy's advice was that Mel should find the stupidest tag team in the company, and offer her managing services under the guise that she's truly the world's greatest managing. The words stupidest tag team would lead most people to NRG, but Melody skipped over the hula skit wearing, protein shake drinking duo, and headed right for the stud muffins in the Gunslingers. The boys liked what they saw, more then what they heard, and eagerly accepted Melody as their new leader! One could ascertain that Melody uses this nerdy, lazy, shy personality to protect herself from the crippling fear that the massive amount attention from her good looks brings her. But if one were smart enough to figure that out, they wouldn't be watching wrestling, would they?

If I was being really honest I would've said "lovers with crabs", but I'll just keep that little story to myself. Shall I find the show wanting in content, I will post my thirty page paper that analyzes the cynical view of class structure as presented by Wilde's potryal of Lady Blacknell in The Importance of Being Earnest. You will find it most enjoyable, no doubt!

I do declare, that white text on a black background is quite a preferable alternative to black text on a white background!

piKA pika! An image of Terry Taylor standing on the entrance stage appears on the screen. The arena is dimly lit, and a spotlight directs all attention towards the often abused announcer. Looking quite daper in a pinstriped suit, he resides in a state of the art interview area. The staging is adorned with oversized cardboard pictures of the OAOAST logo, Ebay's logo, The Tibetan Freedom Organization logo, and two portraits of Alix Spezia and Krista Isadora Duncan. Standing beside him is a Tibetan monk, outfitted in the traditional yellow and purple robe. He seems painfully oblivious to the glamorized proceedings layed out in front of him. TERRY TAYLOR Terry Taylor here live on OAOAST television, joined by a very special guest, Seongjeong Dobeop, head patriarch of the Yenisha monastery in Tibet! Taylor lovingly squeezes his arm around the monk's shoulder. The unwanted show of affection is met by the monk sticking his finger down his throat and pretending to vomit. TAYLOR Ladies and gentlemen, it is that... “Hey, moron!” a middle aged woman with a lazy eye screams “Keep it down, your father and I are trying to fuck over here!” she orders, causing the monk to giggle in deliciously naughty fashion. TAYLOR (cont) Sorry, mom. Fans, it is that... “Go back to Atlanta and kill yourself, pussy!” yells a fan in a Fall Out Boy t-shirt. TAYLOR People, it's time... “No seriously, go back to Atlanta and hang yourself you piece of shit! You suck!” Hollers the fan, leading the monk to put a finger gun to Terry Taylor's head, much to the delight of the audience who chant “kill the rooster!” TAYLOR(weeping on the inside) Ladies and gentlemen after three weeks of waiting and anticipation, it is now time to for myself and Seongjeong Dobeop to reveal to the world the name of the lucky winner, the luckiest person on earth, dare I say, of the OAOAST's much publicized, much discussed charity Ebay auction. Not only will this person have the satisfaction of knowing they've done their part to free Tibet, but they will also be given the opportunity of their lifetime, a chance to spend a day with world tag team champions, Hollywood “it” Girls, and socially conscious young ladies, Chicks Over Dicks! So it is without further adieu that I bring to you the name of the big spender who has made a great contribution to his life and to the Tibetan Freedom Organization. The envelope please! A stage hand scurries to Taylor's location and shoves an envelope into his hand. He eagerly tears through the white paper, anxiously wishing to see the name of the lucky victor. TAYLOR Fans, the winner at a very cool twenty six thousand dollars, Terry....wait a second that's not how you spell my last name! Oh no....I lost? I lost! I mortgaged my house and sold my sick mother into the Taiwanese slave trade for nothing! Son of a bitch! And how am I supposed to get my son's kidney back off the black market before his mother finds out it's missing? Jesus tap dancing Christ! Fine then, let's find out the name of ol Richie Rich, Donald Trump, who thinks he can use his big pocket book to get one up on The Rooster. The winner of the OAOAST's and Tibetan Freedom Organization's charity Ebay auction is.........(pause for dramatic effect)....what the hell? The winner is...that's funny...the winner is Marcellus Wallace, and Vincent Santana? Hey, we've got two guys on the OAOAST roster with those exact same names! Strange. Terry Taylor=not so smart. The metallic opening of [url="http://sharebee.com/cb8f226a"][i]Cross That Line[/i][/url] by Rick Ross fills the arena with an urban scented dread. As the audience sizzles with flaming hatred, the formerly bright lights delve into a troubling blue hue. [i]Convict....Convict....Convict[/i] [i]Up front Yeah.... [color="#FF0000"][size="6"][b]Convict Music[/b][/size][/color][/i] While the haunting piano melody heightens the tension in the venue, scenes of The South Central Militia's special brand of havoc blaze across the Angletron, showing the alarmed fans what type of savage aggression the men who are soon to arrive are capable of. [I]Oooooh ooooh oooooh If you ever cross that line I guarantee ya there'll be nothin' to save ya (save ya, save ya) I got a whole bunch of gorillas ready to pull the trigga And we all for that paper (paper) Comin' from a life of crime Tryna be on my best behavior You see my rep's gettin' bigger but still that same nigga bustin' shots at them haters (them haters, them haters) But only if you cross that line[/i] The colossal bass of Rick Ross' street anthem booms through the venue, signaling the arrival of the auction's winners', Vincent Santana and Marcellus Wallace. The pair step on stage, greeted by Terry Taylor's jaw hitting the floor, and the crowd emitting a round of heated boos. Vincent, topless and looking like he just crawled out of a trailer park sewer in baggy sweat pants, and leopard print cowboy hat, saunters over to Terry Taylor's location Marcellus, in camouflage pants, white fur coat, and numerous platinum chains follows behind him, while flashing gang signs into the camera. SEONGJEONG DOBEOP THE TIBETAN MONK Ya'll niggas?! The two men nod, beaming with loathsome pride. TAYLOR What in Neptune's trousers is going on? You're the honest to god winners? Let me see if I can scrape my jaw up off the floor long enough to um...get to the bottom of all this. I'm confused, the audience is confused, and I'm sure the people who put this auction together are confused. I never figured you for the altruistic, giving of yourselves type, but here you are donating twenty six thousand dollars in a charity auction. That's truly amazing. Again the two nod with pride, and dap(shake hands) in celebration of their unorthodox victory. Even the monk gets a dap, a fist pound, and a manly hug from the brutish criminals. TAYLOR And that leads to my first question, where in god's name did you get twenty six thousand dollars? You're always complaining that you're poor and stuck in the hood, but you're bid was probably more then what your entire neighborhood combined pulls down in a year! No way you made all that money selling fake driver's licenses to illegal Mexicans in downtown LA. We all know that when you guys get a little cash, you're heading to the liquor store to get a 40 and a pack of Marlboro Lights. What happened, did the cops shut the store down 'cause of illegal dice games in the back? How many kilos of drugs did you have to sell to get this chunk of change? VINCENT Around six hundred fifty. TAYLOR(taken aback by the answer) I was just making an insensitive and needlessly stereotypical joke! Good god above, you really did sell drugs to get this money! WALLACE Weed ain't no motherfucking drug. Weed is a plant, same as a daisy or a tulip. If it should so catch on fire, then some effects can happen. Drugs you gotta cook it, stir it up, add baking soda, and shit, I don't know recipe I'm just saying. Crackers be sellin' harder shit down at Rite Aid. Go and look, weed ain't got nothing on no Advil or Tylenol. You take fourteen Tylenol you fuck around and die. Mama ain't never called me up, talkin' about “Marcellus come quick, your brother in the hospital, getting his stomach pumped 'cause he overdosed on some Mary Jane.” TAYLOR An excellent argument for the legalization of marijuana, to be sure. My second question is why even bid in the first place? Especially to hang out with two women who have cursed you with the dishonor of being the shortest reigning tag champions in history. You see them everyday Thursday! And if you're really desperate, just let your man, Terry, know, because over the years I've managed to successfully drill a peep hole into the women's locker room of every major arena in North America. Admission is ten dollars, and that includes drink service, a light dinner, and a commemorative Krista Isadora Duncan topless on the beach paparazzi photo. Save a few thousand bucks. So, please tell me, why have you've done this? WALLACE 'Cause we different. Plenty of tag teams got some kind of problem with Chicks Over Dicks. But, see, the difference between us and them, is that they gonna hate a bitch and be okay with just doing that. They just gonna walk around being mad, but they ain't never gonna do nothing about it. Maybe they might drop a promo here and there, but when it comes to putting heat to the street, they ain't no where to be found. Even those dudes who claim to be gangsta, ain't really comin gangsta with it when the time comes. All kinds of niggas gettin' in on some "I want to be that nigga I ain't" type shit. Running around here talking bout all the work you got and how ain't no nigga gonna do this or that, and the other to you. Then turn around and soften up like butter when one of them real niggas get at your ass bout that shit you was talking. We different. We got beef with Chicks Over Dicks resulting from two weeks ago and we gonna be damned if we gonna have a problem with a chick and not do nothing about it. If we fucks with you, we do, if we don't, we don't. But to hate a ho, a couple of suburban housewives at that, and not do anything about it, thats corny, that's a bitch move, to me. Whether we gotta fight the chicks, pay a nigga to get that handled, or do it ourselves, we gonna do so. TAYLOR The beef you refer to, no doubt relates to your tag title loss several weeks back. But how does winning a charity auction handle your problem, if you can truly call it that, with Chicks Over Dicks? VINCENT Last week we told Okerlund we got a plan to get our tag gold back, and when you announced us as the auction's winners you revealed it to the world. See, once Anglesault snatched our gold and gave it to those rat teeth hoes, we knew there weren't soul here who was gonna help us get it back. But like One Eye just said, we real with ours, and that means we don't get fucked like that. Ain't no director of authority, general manager, commissioner or president gonna change that shit and keep us from our gold. Real recognizes real all day long. We get ours. We took the hustle off the streets, put it up on them Internets, and looked up that Ebay auction ya'll kept pushin. And we saw something mighty interesting. We saw there wasn't nothing that said [i]how[/i] you gotta spend your day with them skanks. Nothing. You coulda done whatever you wanted. They just left it wide open for the winner to decide. And as the winners....well...... TAYLOR(dreadfully) And as the winners of the auction, how would you like to spend your day with Chicks Over Dicks? WALLACE Ain't no would like, ain't no want to, ain't no desire to, all there is is how we gonna do it, and there ain't no debate to it. We gonna spend our day punching they clocks, snapping they necks, breaking they jaw, bustin' they heads, and takin' they tag belts, because they gotta put 'em on line against The South Central Militia at Syndicated! That's what's happening! The crowd let's out a loud roar of excitement for the thought of a tag title defense at the OAOAST's premiere February event. TAYLOR I think we all had a feeling that's where you were going, but twenty six thousand dollars for a tag title shot? A very risk move, to say the least! Fans, there you have it, a tag title match at Syndicated in Cleveland, Ohio.... WALLACE Cleveland? Cleveland ain't got no part in this. TAYLOR But if you want a tag title match at Syndicated, then that's in Cleveland.... Vinny puts his hand in font of Terry's face to silence the confused interviewer. VINCENT Naw. We all stay in LA County, so we gonna settle beef in LA County. We gonna keep it local, throw down in Cali and have an “Battle of Los Angeles” match. Alix, Krista, because ya'll suburban chicks ain't never go east of the fag side of LA, we'll keep it right in your hood, Hollywood. But it ain't gonna be on no streets. No brawl down Sunset, La Ciénega or Santa Monica, Naw, never that. We paid twenty six grand for this, we gotta do it real b-i-g. Gotta do like the OAOAST ain't never done it before. People say you the Hollywood “it” girls? Then this match gotta jump off on what Hollywood is known for...the silver screen. We're gonna take some of that OAOAST money, pay off a few executives, and have an “Battle of Los Angeles” match, an all out brawl, right in a real life movie studio. Get them lights shinin', them cameras shootin', them director's directin','cause Whitey Ford and One Eye Wallace is bringing action right to ya. When it comes to the SCM, the only three letters ya'll need to know is BTK WALLACE Born to kill. VINCENT And that's AOK WALLACE Always out killing. COLE Wow! A “Battle of Los Angeles” match, which basically sounds like a street fight within a movie studio for the world tag team titles! The announcement earns quite the pop from the fans, but one man who doesn't seem overly thrilled about it is, Terry Taylor. TAYLOR Militia, I for one think your plan... freaking sucks! COACH He's going to die shortly. I guess we can look forward to clearance sales on “Remember the rooster” t-shirts on the OAOAST website. The fists of the Militia tighten into threatening balls, and growls of anger escape their snarling lips. Despite the obvious evidence that he needs to shut up at once, the imbecilic announcer fails to do so. TAYLOR You got your first title shot, not because you deserved it, but because Alix and Krista were nice enough to give it to you. And what did you do with that kindness? You spurned the traditions and respect that this sport was built on, to cheat your way to a title reign, that at ten minutes twenty two seconds, was ten minutes and twenty two seconds too long! And now you've come back to throw money at the “problem” and you think can buy your way into title contention? Sorry to say feminem and Puff Daddy, but that isn't the way this business, the business I've sacrificed blood sweat and tears for, is supposed to work! You have to earn your shot, not steal it by abusing charity auctions! Pay your dues, Militia! Am I right, people? Come on, chant it with me! Pay your dues! Pay your dues! Pay your dues! “GET AIDS AND DIE!” hollers a fan in a Phoenix Coyotes hockey jersey. TAYLOR No one's up for a pay your dues chant? Okay, you don't have to. Free country. Just thought it might be fun. WALLACE (closing in on Terry) Ya know what I think might be fun? Tossin' yo pale pee wee herman ass right off this entrance stage! That seems to generate quite the positive reaction from the supposedly peace loving monk, who gleefully applauds the idea of Terry Taylor being thrown to an early grave. However Taylor's life is spared, when Chicks Over Dicks, the subjects of this expensive and now controversial auction walk out from the back, drawing the attention of the rooster's assailants. The girls' appearance earns a massive pop from the now standing audience. Krista's lithe figure is framed by a flirty white buttoned down dress, with short puffed sleeves, knee length hem, and a popped collar. Her hair is vibrant blond hair is tied into an up-do, and burgundy colored rhinestone colored sunglasses shield her baby blue eyes. Alix goes for a more eccentric look: [url="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/alixgoofy.jpg"]This unusual outfit![/url] “C-O-D! C-O-D!” sing the audience. Ally plays to the audience,cupping her ears and flexing her muscles a la Hulk Hogan. All these jerky movements cause her oversized wings to constantly smack Krista in the face, which as you can imagine pisses Miss California off to know end. When the crowd settles down, and Alix finally stops trying to assault her with feathers, Krissy attempts to speak. KRISTA Hold up, hold up, hold up, Militia. If anyone's gonna be the one to brutally take Terry Taylor's life on national TV it's going to be me and a pair of high voltage wires connected to his testicles. Now, before I waste ten minutes of my precious time to address the Militia's massively moronic idea, let me settle this “is weed a drug" debate. The simple answer is, who cares? Weed is for people on the struggle. ALIX Terry, you wouldn't understand that with your hood rich, ghetto fabulous life. KRISTA But imagine for a second that you live a life wrought with destitution and plagued by misery. Your constant companion is a self loathing dread and your only sexual exhilaration is derived from the stuck together pages of the Victoria's Secret catalog you swiped from from your elderly neighboor's mailbox, or from gleefully ogling their fleshly rolls of fat as they prance about the house in said Victoria's Secret wear. When you're not crying guilt filled tears of despair and regret as you pleasure yourself to the sight of a sixty five year old Puerto Rican man in drag, you are suffocating under a mountain of bills that you're certain you'll never crawl out of. “I gotta pay this water bill, they don't want a deposit, or lay away, they want the whole thing. I'm ruined!” Well untangle that rope, unload that gun, shove those razor blades back in the drawer, and step away from the Panic at the disco albums, because all you need is a good blunt to make your problems go away. How is that possible? Because weed,Terry Taylor, contains a very potent, powerful, chemical, we in the scientific community commonly refer to as “dude,fuck it”. And when the power of “dude, fuck it” gets into your system, it changes your entire outlook on life. Water bill? “[i]Dude, fuck it.[/i] I wish they would turn it off, I got ten bottles of Evian in the refrigerator, I've been waiting to crack those things open. Get Shamu on the phone, I'm about to turn this house into Sea World.” SEONGJEONG DOBEOP THE TIBETAN MONK Smoke weed everydaaaaaay. KRISTA South Central Militia, you have obviously failed to follow the first law you learn when dealing drugs, don't hit your own product. You've apparently smoked, snorted, and sniffed your way onto the short bus here at OAOAST highschool. It is my expert diagnosis that your repeated hitting of the bong has caused you to become infected with the very dangerous chemical, the scientific community has dubbed “dude, that's fucking awesome”. Left unchecked, “dude, that's fucking awesome” can be a deadly substance, causing suffers to believe that typically inane, outright moronic ideas, are awesome inventions on the level of the printing press, the electrical grid, and the ignore feature on AOL Instant messenger, attention Melody Nerdly: I am a thirty six year old woman with bills to pay and a daughter to raise, I do not care how badly you just “owned” some eight year old playing on mommy's stolen credit card at World of Warcraft, stop telling me! Back to you Militia, the very fact that you would spend twenty six thousand dollars to get a glorified bitch slapping at what will probably wind up being a movie studio for shooting deviant fetish porn, shows me that “dude, that's fucking awesome” has reached it's most advanced stages and has eroded your capacity for common sense beyond repair. Your scheme, as Terry Taylor so poetically put it “freaking sucks!” ALIX Shakespeare could not have said it with more cutting eloquence. KRISTA Militia, your's is a plan that's thought of as stupid by anyone who didn't spend their childhood living under powerlines, and does not consider paint chips an essential nutrient. Which means Alix, loves it. ALIX Hey, meanie, that's not nice. I never lived under powerlines! TAYLOR Does this mean the first ever Battle of Los Angeles match won't be happening? KRISTA I'd love to give you that great thumbs down, Terry, but they won the auction, and according to the insanely stupid contract drawn up by the feces eating circus monkeys doubling as OAOAST lawyers, that means they can do whatever they want. But let's all take a moment to think about this and mock the SCM for their gross stupidity and outright ignorance. An auction designed to help liberate a country devoted to spreading the message of peace and enlightenment, is now going to most likely result in chaotic bloodshed and career ending violence... ALIX Hope ya packed your asbestos proof swimming trunks and flame retardant underwear, because we're all going to hell! KRISTA Speaking of hell, what we put you clowns through.... ALIX Waiaaaaaait, did you just say......[b]clowns[/b]? Krista, I thought you loved me! How could you hurt me with the c word? You know that I'm totally bummed on clowns! KRISTA (tossing her hands up in exasperation) Oh, Alix, please don't do this, not right now. To quote a phrase that Terry Taylor hasn't heard too often because he's never had a who woman he hasn't beaten unconscious first in his bedroom, I have a headache. Does anyone have any shiny objects we can distract her with? ALIX(ignoring Krista's pleas) Ya know, it's been a hella long time since I went crazy with one of my rambling stories that have little to do with anything... KRISTA (to One Eye) Hey, Ice Cube, you got plenty of cheap shiny shit on. So much fake jewelry, I bet even your cholesterol is iced out. Flash some in front of her face. Forget a match, I'll give you my title, just don't let her get started! Please! Krista lunges for One-Eye's wealth of chains, but he pulls back, allowing Alix to begin her story unhindered. ALIX One time when I was widdle widdle girl I was watching my daddy on [i]Showtime at the Apollo[/i] doing a classic Al Joloson "Mammy" routine. And the audience was just wubbing it to bits n pieces, chanting my dad's name “Boo you suck! Boo you suck!”. I guess the host messed up when he was introducing my dad, because his name is Anthony not “Boo you suck”. But all of a sudden a portal opens up from another dimension, and a clown named Sandman Sims tap-dances out! Obviously, some alien looking for his big break in show-biz. And my dad's trying to score with Kiki Sheparad, and still has his Bette Middler drag revue to get to, but this clown is probing his every orifice with a broom, giving him a preview of what his next ten years in state prison would be like. So my old man, is like, screw this, and grabs the broom, and tries to fly away, but I guess that only works for witches. So a whole bunch of security dudes storm out, because they totally hate clowns also, but they get confused and think my dad is a clown! Oh no! So they started shooting him with a tazer guns! ZAP! BUZZ! SPAZZT! KATE BECKINSALE! Wait that's the filthy whore that stole the leading role away from me in [i]Underworld[/i] not a sound affect. But my daddy's like totally fighting the security off like that one kung fu dude, what's his name? KRISTA Bruce lee? Jackie Chan? ALIX No way Jose! KRISTA (groaning) Uh, Al Roker? ALIX That's it, that's the onezo! So my dad's all like fighting them off, while Sandman tries to run away. But the rhyme goes run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the gingerbread man, not run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the Sandman..uh....man. So my dad is like all on top of him and stuff and he's got him in a vertical suplex, then he gets all technical and drops him into an inverted atomic drop, and if this was No Mercy for Nintendo 64, which Melody plays [i]all[/i] day, we would've heard a comic DING. But this is real life, so we heard and even comicer, I made up a word!, sound of Sandman falling off the stage and right into Ray Chu and the crew, then bouncing into a very compromising position with Barry White! Can't get enough of your love, indeed, my chocolate honey muffin! Then Sinbad came out and he started tap dancing to! KRISTA(looking over the entrance stage to the floor below) Would a fall from this height be enough to kill me? ALIX So, like, anyway, my mother has to leave her job early to pick me up to go my dad's trial, and if you know anything about whorehouses, getting off early is a major pain in the tush! In more ways then one, that's for sure! And at the trial, Sandman's wife is all like"He was an expected father! He had a kid in college! You robbed him of his dream to see his only son graduate! But at least he died doing what he loved.” Yeah, anywho, snort clowns, they suck! And if Krista off handedly refers to you as clowns, I don't take that as a minor insult to set up a vulgar, alcohol fueled man hating tirade, I take that as a license to slit your throats and bury you in the backyard next to Jodie Foster's decaying corpse. Why wouldn't she be my friend, Terry? I don't understand! VINCENT You done? 'Cause we got.... “Whitey” is quickly silenced by Krista's overpowering voice. KRISTA The only thing you got is to do exactly what I tell you. And what I'm telling you to do as of right now, is to keep your mouth shut. So we're both from the state where the sun always shines, but the only way you're leaving town with these titles is if we stick 'em up where the sun [i]don't[/i] shine. You think your twenty six thousand just bought you a ticket to land of milk and honey? I think it just bought you a glorified Starline studio tour, and an opportunity to journey into west LA without getting pulled over by the police and turned into Rodney King 2007. I think it bought you a chance to get busted wide open, left bloody red, and fighting for your life as they rush you to the med. All your money, and all your jaw jacking, just got you in a bunch of shit, and now your soon to get your ass beat. This isn't a Battle of Los Angeles, this is a slaughter of a couple of wannabe gangstas. I'm Krista Isadora Duncan, and I'm worth a lot more then twenty six thousand dollars. ALIX And I'm Alix Maria Spezia, and I like to dress My Little Pony dolls in Fetish Gear. BIATCH! While Krista retreats to throw herself off the roof of the arena, Alix backs away slowly, flashing gang signs, that have no actual meaning, to the confused and irritated Militia. The thuggish pairing attempts to play it cool, making the tried and true belt motion around their waist, but it's obvious their fairly annoyed with the girls' words and actions. The shot returns to a close up of Terry Taylor, who has to shout to make himself heard over the roar of the audience. TAYLOR Fans, there you have it! What started out off as a simple goodwill charity auction, has somehow resulted in the first ever Battle Of Los Angeles match for the OAOAST world tag team titles! I'm sure over the next week, we'll find out what movie studio the match will actually take place in. For now, I'm Terry Taylor, wishing you a good night, and good health. With that we cut back to the announce team of Coach and Michael Cole. COLE (chuckling) Oh that Sandman Sims! He is too much!

That's not such a bad idea. There sure are a lot of secondary characters floating around. I think people would go for it because it doesn't actually require much work on their part. Although it is nice to have an NRG lying around to squash whenever you feel like it. But, Alf's also doing that wdw thing, sooooo I would imagine you'd have more then a few characters journeying over to that, maybe. I dunno, I don't really know how it would work. I'm sleepy and it's only like early.

The winner of the Chicks Over Dicks charity auction will be announced to the world! Well, maybe not the world but certainly to the seven or eight people who read the show! And if you're good little boys and..uh..boys I'll treat(and I use that term very, very, very loosely) you to the All American Boys Vs The Lonestar Gunslingers. But only if you're good!

son you ain't even about to do me like that. PRL and Lindsay are finally engaged!! I hope they get married soon, I find it distasteful when couples stay engaged for too long, too great a chance to find out about your partner's real personality and come to your senses. Both Faqu and Blond showing some of that charisma. I don't think I've ever seen(read) them talk until the past few weeks. Giving James Blonde Spirit in the sky for entrance music, was my greatest accomplishment in life. How can anyone be angry with that as their entrance music. You've got a friend in Jesus. Landon Maddix is a way funny dude. KC should get credit for being the first person in the three year existence of HI-YAH to use the karate chop joke. The rest of you should hang your heads in shame. I hope the Freebird really is Bruce, that was one real ass dude. If it's not Scotty and Johnny are gonna feel pretty stupid for their whole “Fuck you Bruce, this is our America!” routine. Liked the short little interaction between the two James'. Two contrasting personalities right there. All the matches were really sweet and did a good job of advancing various stoyrlines, etc. I salute you fine gentlemen on your pleasing efforts! Oh dude, is that awesome.

If this could go anywhere after the scm interview that would be ever so wonderful! Thank you! COLE Okay, folks, we've had a wonderful show so far, plenty more still to come, but for right now let's take it to Terry Taylor who is standing by backstage. Right on cue, the view switches to Terry Taylor, backstage just as Cole promised. But no viewer's eyes are focused on the much maligned d-level announcer, rather all attention is locked on his interview subjects, tag team champions Chicks Over Dicks. Alix is attired in a pair of destroyed stone washed jeans, and a grey t-shirt that simply reads [B]I HATE MY GIRLFIEND[/B]. Krista, on the other hand, is much more formal then her better half, decked out in an ultra chic three piece black business suit, and black fendi sunglasses. Taylor sports a Ray Emery [color="#FF0000"][b]Ottawa[/color] Senators[/b] jersey in a pitiful attempt to curry favor with the arena based fans. His sucking up fails miserably, and a small but audible “Terry touches boys” chant is heard over the venue microphones. TERRY Hello, world! Terry Taylor here, backstage in the Scotiabank Palace, with OAOAST world tag team champions, and close personal friends.... Not wishing to be associated with the likes of Terry Taylor, Krista slaps him upside the head. TAYLOR (continuing and correcting himself) ...and women who I psychotically obsesses over, Chicks Over Dicks. Girls, how are you on this Thursday evening? ALIX I'm pretty rad! Thank ya for asking, Double T. So whatcha-watcha-watcha want? TAYLOR I'd like for you to talk about tonight's challengers for your title belts, Los Conquistadors. ALIX Then let's talk about 'em! Dude, I know we've got this whole any one who wants a title shot can get one thing going on, but this like that awful Gnarls Barkley song radio DJ's across the country continue to torment my ears with, is a lil craaaazy. Dontcha think? Yeah I really do think! On the list of tag teams that actually, you know, deserve a title shot, Uno, bitchin' card game sucky wrestler, and Dossy-Dos rank at number sixty. There are only like twelve tag teams here! That means there are um.uh..lemme get my math on..subtract the four carry the one, multiply the exponent, change the bed linen, add the negative nine, remember to get some dog food on the way home, subtract the exterior quotient from the Pythagorean fraction, the capital of Ohio is Columbus...there's six hundred and seventy two billion imaginary tag teams ahead of them! And that's a heck of a lot of imagination! And speaking of, why don't we all take a voyage on the SS imagination, were our primary destination is adventure and McDoanlds, because I totally have to get one of those new Catscratch Happy meals. And while we're aboard the SS Imagination let's all try to imagine what could have been going through Uno and Dos' mind when they actually signed up for this happenin' partay. Hey, Krissy, what comes before Part B? TAYLOR Part A. ALIX Hi, is your name Krissy? Because if it is, you two have the same name! Oh my god, isn't that so cool? You can be sisters! Anyway, Uno and Dos. Yeah, we kinda abandoned the whole SS Imagination ship, but what seriously what are those dudes thinking? Them taking a title shot makes even less then Mr.T having a reality show on TV land where he comes and gives advice to people who's lives, like, suck and stuff. Now the show's concept makes a lot of things, it makes me wanna puke, it makes me wanna vomit, it makes me wanna throw up, and it makes me wanna upchuck, but it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. How are you gonna try to help someone else with some messed up family issues when you still running around own in a velour sweat suit and a Mohawk? You're the one with the issues, call A&E we need an [i]Intervention[/i]. You the fool we need to pity, no one else. I saw an episode and he comes [i]running[/i] down the street at the start. Running! Dude, you don't have a car? It's 2007 and you don't have a car. My dad has a car and he's been in jail for six years. He's got no place to go and nothing but time and he's still got a car. He doesn't even have his own bathroom, he has to shower with his back against the wall, and he's got a car. You've got thirty minutes to help someone with some serious situation and you're out there running, chugging along like the Little Engine that could. I think I can, I think I can, I think can. None of the other A Team could throw a car pool together for B.A. Baracus? If I see Mr T, I'm running to. What can Mr.T possibly help you with? "Oh no! My husband just got layed off, my son needs a heart transplant or else he'll die and we have no health insurance. And I just found out they want to take the house away from us. Maybe I should just sell my body on the streets." Mr.T comes jogging along to solve all your problems; "I'ma help you!" If the only two ways out of the poorhouse are Mr.T or prostitution, give me the high heels, trashy makeup and direct me to the nearest street corner, dude. And if I was Los Conquistadors, I'd take my chances on the street corner also, and forget all about this silly wrestling stuff, because I don't really see this whole tag title thingie majig working out toooo well for them! TAYLOR I guess we won't be looking forward to a Mr.T appearance at Anglemania! And Krista, how are you? KRISTA I'm just horrible, Terry! My maid, totally legal, naturalized citizen of the United States, keep Lou Dobbs away from me, just called me and told me that my cat, Billie Jean, died! And that we're out of Windex. But I can always go to the store and replace the Windex. ALIX But how can she replace the pieces of her broken heart? TAYLOR Ah....that's....well...um...bad and all, but that's not really what I expected you to say... KRISTA Huh? TAYLOR Well, you know, I was kind of hoping you would..uh...say something funny... KRISTA My cat just died, Terry. I've had that cat since I was in college, that's seventeen years we've been together. It was like a sister to me. My daughter loved that pretty kitty, I don't even think she'll be able to get out of bed to go to school tomorrow. Even [i]Ned[/i] adored Billie Jean! And this is the man who on our third date, punched a kid in a wheelchair, then tried to justify it by saying “His chin wasn't in a wheelchair, dude should've bobbed and weaved!” But [i]you[/i] think I should push all that pain aside and be Sandra god damn Bernhard for your amusement? That's all I am to you? A one woman Saturday Night Live? I'm in pain, Terry Taylor! My family has been torn apart in the span of six hours, and you're looking for an HBO comedy special? What kind of twisted human being are you? TAYLOR It's just when I asked how you were doing, I didn't really want to know how you were actually doing. KRISTA If you don't want to know how I was doing, why the hell would you ask how I was doing? TAYLOR It's more of a greeting. I say “How are you?” and you say “Hey there.” KRISTA What? That doesn't even make sense as a reply! If you ask me what time is it I don't say “yes, I'd like side of scrambled eggs with that.” I give you a logical, and hopefully accurate reply. If you say “Hi, Krista, how are you?” I don't answer “Instant Shine shoe polish should not be used on suede, nubuk, and fabrics. Keep out of reach of children.” You ask me how I was doing, and I told you, but now you're upset. That's like dumping kerosene on yourself, lighting a match and getting butthurt when you catch on the fire! Once you ask a question, that sentence is out of your hands, you can't control the response. You have dissolved yourself of all responsibilities and ownership. You have turned that right over to the askee. ALIX I'm seeing feelings, sweetie pie, but I'm not hearing them. Vocalize your anger, honey bunches of oats. Vocalize. TAYLOR You're not helping, Alix. Krista.. KRISTA Don't even talk to me, you sicko. There is not a word in the English dictionary that could even attempt to describe the loathing I hold in my heart for you. You have finally pushed me over the edge. I could take your stalking, your constantly leaving your yeast infection medication in my car, you and Alix putting blue food coloring in my protein shake and saying Papa Smurf peed in it, your sixty page, graphically illustrated, sex stories, and even your life size erotic pottery, but today, you have pissed me off beyond the point of no return. I'd like to think I'm within my rights to take a brick and slam it into your nasty, disgusting, abhorrent, monkey mouth face. But the truth is I can't hit you, Terry Taylor. Believe me I would very much like to punch a hole through your chest and give your still beating heart to the man behind you. I'd consider it Christmas/Kawanza/Hanukkah/Ramadan/other miscellaneous non secular holiday/ morning if I could stomp the everlasting shit out of you. But in this miserable-tax me out of my freaking mind-country we have these pesky things called laws. And laws being what they are, and my home state having a certain three strikes rule, and me having two strikes (with several foul balls) against me, I just can't break 'em as easily as I did during my rebellious ”dykes on bikes” years. But all is not hopeless, Chicken Hawk. Because what I can do is take out all the aggression and all the rage that you, Miss Congeality, have brought to me out on my opponents, Los Diablos.... ALIX Los Conquistadors, silly! Los Diablos are the friends we have so we can show all our equally liberal Caucasian friends how cool and open minded we are by hanging out with non threatening ethnic minorities. KRISTA Hmmm. They all look like alike to me. But not because they're Mexican, don't drop the dime to Ariana Huffington, but because they wear masks. Back to the point, Terrence. I was content to wrestle a simple, straightforward affair. My heart was on fire with passionate love for the opportunity to put on an exhibition that would showcase the pure and innocent competition that is the heart of this sport's appeal. I would've used some headlocks, some arm drags, maybe even a side Russian leg sweep, I've never used a side Russian leg sweep before. Tonight, I was really going to do it, I was going to stay true to my promise and use that move. But, you ruined it by making an early push for douchebag of the year. Although the fact that you're still breastfeeding at forty eight years old, may have guaranteed you that little honor from now until eternity. Now two innocent victims, two people who I didn't even know existed before tonight, have to get punished because you have a harder time keeping your mouth shout then that homophobic bimbo Kelly Ripa. And when I say I want to punish Los Conquistadors, I mean I want to grab a wooden table douse it in gasoline, flick open a lighter, then power bomb them through it, and watch with vast joy as the flames cook me two authentic Mexican burritos and the thirty six year old virgin shut ins in the audience chant “She's a crackwhore! She's a crackwhore!” Unfortunately, there's a slight problem with that disturbing but oh so entertaining plan, Terry Taylor. There's always a problem. My life wouldn't be complete without problems. It would be like the Jackson Five without Douglas. But there was no Douglas in the Jackson five, you say! Don't correct me, you rat bastard! Haven't your callous actions done enough damage to my fragile heart for one day? Problemo numero uno, fire scares Alix. A lot. ALIX Terribly terrible incident when I was a widdle bunny wabbit! Birthday party, barbecue pit, clown, balloon animals, helium, made the elven o'clock news, food at the funeral was pretty radical, however. KRISTA Second problem, those tables are insanely hard to set up. You have pull the metal legs out, and you don't know if they're gonna stay out or not, because sometimes it looks like you've got it and then it just folds back up, and they're heavy and who wants to drag those things all the way into the ring? It's just a big enormous hassle. Third problem, although I am a virtual Paul Bunyan when it comes to the size of my expansive and superior intellect, in actual physical stature, I'm kind of....small. Have you looked at me at lately, Terry? All men and women do, desperately longing to taste my little slice of heaven. And I know you have because you're a twisted pervert who's staring at my boobs right now, even though I just told you that the cat I've had since I was eighteen died while I'm thousands of miles away from home. Anyway, the point is I'm not exactly on the short list of women to be casted as She Hulk, if you get what I'm saying. I just can't go into the ring and say “ME KRISTA! ME ANGRY! ME SMASH! ME DISCOMBOBULATE ANTI MATTER”. I mean technically I could say all of that, but it would most likely result an equally angry and much larger individual belly to belly suplexing my limp and battered body into the third row. And if you've taken a look at some of the rat teeth, nugget mouth, booger bears in the stands, you can guess why I'm slightly adverse to landing face down on their laps. But what I can do, I can do better then anyone else who's ever had the displeasure of meeting you, and that's humiliate someone. America's got talent, and so does Krista, and that talent is the utter embarrassment and lengthy drawn out emasculation of grown men. ALIX She's right! Look at you, Terry, you might as well spend the rest of your days in a mini skirt, Guess pumps, and Revlon lip stick. Hey, it happened to me! I used to be Darnell Washington from Inglewood, the hardest banger in the set. One day I'm doing drive bys, the next day I'm in Krista's kitchen, wearing a sundress, voting democrat, and baking cookies for GLAAD meetings. KRISTA And what happened to young Darnell is precisely what I plan on doing tonight. It's a good thing Los Conquistadors wear masks, otherwise they'd have a mighty difficult time showing their face in public again. Actually they're going to have to remove their masks just so they can't be recognized by the cruel and mocking public. Because if people see them on the street in those masks they'll be screaming “Hey! Aren't you those idiots who got humiliated by that devilishly sexy, outrageously intelligent, youthful looking, and all around queen of the galaxy, Krista Isadora Duncan? You are! You, bums, you need your testicles taken from you! You sons of bitches are nothing but women with pee holes in their underwear! GET OUT!” That's what'll happen, so I suggest you get used to life without your masks or face paint,or whatever it is you use to cover up the fact that you look worse then the hooker Terry Taylor paid sixty bucks to go to his senior prom with, because I'll humiliate you so hard, you'll be holding your head in your hand, sobbing like unwashed babies, and asking god why I just embarrassed you without respect to your church and your family “I had no choice, God! I didn't deserve it, God! The sanctity of my virginity was violated, God! It wasn't right God! It wasn't right!” You're damn straight it wasn't right, just like it wasn't right for Terry Taylor to expose his whoreishness by not caring about the tragedy that's destroying my life, and by staring at my ass even though I'm a grieving mourner who just lost her childhood pet! So when you get backstage and you want to find someone to blame for the fact that you gotta spend the rest of your days in shame and embarrassment, then Terry Taylor is the chicken you wanna have fried like Kentucky. I'm Krista Isadora Duncan and you better ask somebody who knows so you can know to. TAYLOR Los Conquistadors, I know one thing, you're in big trouble..and..uh..I'm sorry about that, I didn't even know she had a cat, my fault guys. Girls, one last thing, The South Central Militia, the team you beat last week to become three time tag team champions, say the issue of the title belts isn't dead, and that they have a plan, so to speak. What do you say to that? KRISTA The issue, if you even want to call it that, is d-e-a-d, dead. Why? Because I say it is. And as for their plan, I think gender reassignment surgery is a fantastic idea! Saves me the trouble of having to do it myself! But, watch out for menopause, it's a killer. ALIX Do ya still get menopause if ya switch your kibbles and bits? TAYLOR Something for our enlightened and open minded fans, all two of them, to ponder, I'm certain. Girls, thank you very much. ALIX & KRISTA You're welcome, Terry! TAYLOR Fans, we'll be back with you shortly. Stay tuned to OAOAST television. [B]COMMERCIAL BREAK[/B] [B]THE OPPOSITE OF COMMERCIAL BREAK[/B] Hole's rendition of [i]Golddust Woman[/i] comes through the PA system, as an image of Los Conquistadors standing side by side appears on the Angletron. While the arena lights settle into a stark gold glow, flashes of Los Conquistadors highlights in the OAOAST come onto the big screen. Unfortunately, there aren't many highlights to speak of, so the same three enter a repeat cycle. That doesn't seem particularity important, however, as the audience has turned their attention to the entrance stage where a dilapidated steel cage rises from a platform. Housed within the metallic jail are Uno and Dos, looking far different then they did the last time they were seen on OAOAST television. Outfitted in matching gold and black PVC bodysuits, with their names etched in white cursive on the back, and thigh high white platform boots, the formerly comedic pair make for an unusual presence. Eager to escape their dungeon, they rattle their cage, until a nearby stagehand arrives to set them free. Uno repays his kindness by shoving the underpaid servant to the steel floor. And Dos shows his own despicable side by hurling a wad of spit onto the weeping man. The two warriors pound their fist together, then traverse to the ring amidst the confused murmur of the audience. BUFFER The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a time limit of twenty five minutes. It is for the OAOAST World Tag Team Titles! Introducing first the challengers, weighing in at a combined weight of three hundred and twenty pounds, they hail from Santa Fe, New Mexico by way of Tijuana, Mexico, The Wild Chicano, Uno, The Mexican Maniac, Dos, they are the baddest men in Latin America, they are LOS CONQUESTIADOOOOORSSS! The conclusion of the announcement causes the ramp based Conquistadors to toss up their arms in triumph. Dos even goes as far as to do a backflip in celebration of his own greatness. The audience, who can't quite figure out what happened to the hapless Mexican duo, and why their getting a tag title shot, sit in “stunned” silence. COACH What the hell is going on here? Where's the basic masks, the simple and ugly spandex tights, the lack of entrance music, the lack of any sort of entrance period. Now they've got fancy black and gold bodysuits with their names written on them, gold face paint, gelled hair, platform boots, entrance music to go along with a flashy entrance style, and what's more, they have a hometown now! COLE Well, Los Conquistadors must've hit the finest costume shops and image makeover clinics New Mexico has to offer, because they've come out looking like legit stars for their first ever tag team title match. We'll see if the new look breeds success, although, I have my doubts. Uno enters the ring first and gives the ropes a vigorous shake, while yelling in Spanish. Slightly more calm, Dos strolls along the apron, pounding his gloved fist against his bodysuit. COACH Obviously, Alix and Krista didn't learn their lesson from last weeks ordeal. You don't just go giving title shots left and right. Just because someone asks you to do something, doesn't mean you gotta go and do it. I ask Krista to have sex with me every Thursday, and each time she pushes me down a flight of stairs. So she knows how to say no. COLE I don't think Los Conquistadors pose quite the same threat as The Militia, no offense intended to these fine athletes. [i]Los Angeles[/i], Sugarcult's ferocious ode to the entertainment capital of the world is heard loud and clear over the arena sound system. What's heard even louder is a monstrous roar of excitement from the fans. Every last audience member rises to their feet in unbridled anticipation of the two wrestlers soon to appear. A chant of “C-O-D” goes up when a gorgeous [color=#FF0000][b]red[/color][/b] pyro waterfall dives onto the stage below. The chant only increases in decibel level when the waterfall is met with an equally astounding [color=#FF3399][b]pink[/color][/b] pyro fountain. Once those fireworks vanish a majestically royal [color=#FFFF33][b]gold[/color][/b] pyro wall rips to life, overtaking the entire entrance stage in it's radiance. As the yearning chorus of the song kicks in, the Californian duo of Chicks Over Dicks steps through smoky cloak. Their apperance is marked with a thundering cheer from the Ottawa natives, many of whom hoist their pro-COD signs and t-shirts high into the sky. COACH Terry Taylor is a bigger fool then we all thought. All you gotta say is “sorry you're cat died”, and leave it at that. Now Los Conquestiadors are in for prolonged humliation, while he's backstage sipping coffee, and stuffing his face with donuts. Alix, bedecked in sizzling white booty shorts, matching white tube top, and an array of faux fur covered wrist bands and boots, dances along the steel stage, rocking her shapely body back and forth, sending the fans into further frenzy. Krista, lock into an arrogant pose infront of the door way, is outfitted in a frilly Heatheratte™ rainbow patterned mini skirt, and spotless white tennis shoes. She off sets the girly lower body wear by sporting a “distressed” black Monarchy™ hoodie, featuring Archaic old English text, a rebellious rose graphic, and gothic zipper on the front. Somehow she manages to take her hyperactive gal pal's hand into her's and twirl her around like a ballroom dancer, before sucking her into tight embrace. Alix turns over her shoulders, brushes a strand of her brown locks out her face, and tosses a bewitching kiss to the camera, causing cute super imposed [color="#FF0000"][b]red[/b][/color] lips to pop on the screen. BUFFER And the champions...., first, from Los Angeles, California, she is the CEO of Mrs.Spezia's sweeties, the Hollywood Bad Girl, ALIX MARIA SPEZIA! And her partner, from Los Angeles, California, she is a best selling author, a fitness queen, and star of the world famous FIT with KID line of exercise videos, she is Miss California Krista Isaodra Duncan! Together they are three time OAOAST world tag team champions, America's Sweethearts, Chicks Over Dicks! As she takes position on the ring apron, Krista looks over her foes for the night with an amused shock. She expected them to fit the mold of the hulking Neanderthals her team has had to war against since returning to the OAOAST. To see that they're just rail thin twerps in fetish costumes brings a great smile to her face. She's so thrilled by this fact, that she ushers Ally out of the ring, and takes her place. Of course Alix has to offer a nugget of “wisdom” before she departs, “Beware trusted girl companion, for evil is a foot, and we must proceed with great caution!” Brushing aside Alix's inane warning, Krissy enages Uno in a lockup. She begins to push her fellow cruiserweight towards a vacant corner, however he slips through a crack in the hold, ending her attempt. Seconds later he attaches his hands around her neck in a front headlock. Krista instantly begins fighting against his clutches, digging her nails into his painted face. As streaks of red begin to appear through the black masking, Uno tries to subdue the blond bombshell by dragging her down to the canvas. Krista subverts this attempt by placing her hands onto his PVC suit and ushering him to the cables. He returns in triumph, bowling her over with a shoulderblock. Leaving her prone body on the mat, he skips to the cables, reading to crush her with a bodysplash on his trip back. But the plan goes awry when he notices that Krista is on her feet, prepared to impale his gut with her lowered head. He thinks on his platformed feet, and leapfrogs over her attacking body. But his offensive showing ends at that excat moment, as Krista rifles a left hand into his jaw the second he lands. A right impacts disgustingly above his left eye, then another left rips at the cartilage in the bridge of his nose. As he's left dizzied by the trio of strikes, Krista takes a moment to showup her overmatched foe. She pulls a compact mirror from her top, then flips it open to admire her fetching beauty. Finally she plants a kiss on her gorgeous reflection, and discards the mirror into the stands, where the eager audience lustily brawls over it. She then turns her attention back to Uno, and pastes him with a crowd popping lariat. The force of the strike puts him on the ground, where he can scarcely see past the salty tears in his eyes. While he fights a losing battle to stand up, his pesky rival carts herself to ropes. But instead of running back in the normal fashion, she once again takes an opportunity to belittle her opponent. Paying “homage” to his Mexican heritage, Krista salsa dances her way towards Uno. Her curvy hips gyrate in ultra spicy seduction, while her arms wiggle through a pattern of mesmerizing euphoria. Unfortunately for Uno the end result of the taunting is anything but euphoric, as Krista sinks her knee into his forehead. While the audience salutes her fetching show, she hooks Uno's leg for a pin. Eighty six year old referee Clem Buzllefoxer counts the fall. ONE TWO Clem's Alzheimer's strikes at a most inopportune moment, forcing him to forget what comes after two! This crucial delay allows Uno to kickout of what might have been a match ending pinfall. Yet, his escape doesn't grant him the chance to go on the attack, as Krista hauls him upright and shoots him towards the ropes. He returns to her much faster then she would've liked, and as such she's caught off guard by the speedy grappler. He uses her confusion to his advantage by placing his hands onto her shoulders, and using them as a base to leverage himself behind her. The shift pushes her off balance, but Uno locks her in place with a pump handle set up. Kicking and grunting, Krissy tries to free herself from the luchadore's pinions, but the hold is locked in too deeply. Uno drags her into the sky, then roughly deposits her into the floor with the pump handle slam. He quickly moves to cover her, and the official counts his pin. ONE Alix ends the pinfall with a boot to Uno's skull! Her vexatious meddling causes Uno to direct several crude comments her way. Fluent in Spanish, Alix replies in kind, and it looks for the moment that a full scale donnybrook might erupt from this verbal warfare. But Clem talks cooler heads into prevailing, and Alix eventually departs to her corner. With Ally dismissed, Uno drags Krista to his corner where he makes the tag to his associate, Dos. The Mexican Maniac's arrival into the affair is greeted by an embarrassing chill of silence. He takes his anger over the utter lack of crowd response out on his enemy by savagely punting her arm while Uno holds it in place. As Krista recoils in pain, Uno departs the ring, leaving Dos by his lonesome with their prisoner. The Maniac takes hold of Krista's sore arm, preparing to further torment the limb with an arm drag. But that plan encounters a horrid failure, when Krista slashes her free hand into Dos' throat. Now more concerned with the struggle to breathe then the struggle to win a match, Dos allows his rival to go free. Krista utilizes this newfound freedom to retreat to her corner and bring gal pal, Alix Spezia into the match. “ALIX! ALIX! ALIX!” bleat the now standing crowd. Alix works her legion of adoring fans into a higher state of jubilation by staying on the ring apron and rocking out with an air guitar concert. The simple exhibition elicits a grand reaction from the audience, and the volume of the “Alix” chants increase ten fold. Once she's satisfied with the sky high noise level, she hooks her arms around the top rope, kicks her legs up, and gracefully flips her limber body into the squared circle. Dos attempts to give her rather rude welcoming into the affair, and attacks her with a shoulder block. But The Hollywood Bad Girl blocks his volley by stabbing her fuzzy boot into his rotund midsection. The shot bends Dos over in anguish, and has him hacking and coughling like an asthma suffer. But most importantly it permits Ally Cat to trap him into a front underhook. Moving quickly, she peels backwards and spikes his head into the stone solid canvas with a double arm ddt. Amazingly, The Mexican Maniac is able to spring to his feet just seconds after the cringe worthy move. Yet, he's not able to mount any sort of offensive thanks to his plucky enemy depositing him into the ropes with an Irish whip. When he returns, she wraps her arms around the one hundred fifty pounder's waist then rockets him into the arena air with a flapjack! Surprisingly, Dos succeeds in tying his scrawny legs around her neck for a hurricanrana. But Alix has zero intention of letting his reversal see the light of day, and counters his counter with a crowd pleasingsit out powerbomb! Buzzlefoxer moves into position to count the ensuing fall. CROWD ONE CROWD TWO But Dos scrapes his shoulder off the mat right as the referee was prepared to count three. “Oh Poopie!” A comically dejected Alix responds to the kickout. She'd love the chance to debate the pinfall with the senile offical, but she has more pressing matters to attend to, chiefly Uno descending upon her with a top rope bodysplash! The adorable champion reacts with preternatural quickness, heading to her feet, reaching over her shoulder, and anxiously awaiting the luchadore to fall into her trap. When she feels the coareness of his facepaint graze her collarbone, she attaches her hands around his head, then dives backwards to pulverize him with a diamond cutter! “YEAAAA!” The Wild Chicano bellows in misery, felling the horrible after affects of his ill advised attack. He rolls out of the ring, clutching his battered face, and leaving his partner to fend for himself. However, Dos fares far better then his ally in dealing with the California girl and surprises her with a side Russian leg sweep. Not wanting these precious seconds of momentum to expire, he holds onto her body and rolls them to their feet. Once he gets fully upright, he drops downwards with a second side russian leg sweep. Again he makes an effort to repeat the sequence and brings the pair to their feet. But his success ends at this very point, as Alix ducks down, ties her leg between his inner thigh, then rolls forward, overtaking him into a pinning predicament. While the audience roots on her crafty pinfall, Clem gets in position to score it.. CROWD ONE CROWD TWO Dos slides out of the unusual pinfall, shooting to his feet as he does so. Problematically for him, the brown haired babe springs onto his scrawny shoulders the second that he rises. Dos entertains the idea of plastering her along the floor with a sitout powerbomb, but isn't able to turn that dream into reality thanks to Ally Cat shifting into a victory roll position. Now Dos concocts the brilliant scheme of annihilating her with an electric chair drop. But he's foiled once more, as The Hollywood Bad Girl whips her enemy sparkling head over sparking heels with an inverted hurricanrana! Dos' mellon suffers a vile impact into the canvas, with his neck crunching awkwardly against the beige surface. COACH I guess clothes don't always make the man, because these guys have fancy new costumes, and they're still hot garbage. The frazzled luchadore beats a hasty retreat to the outside, selfishly forcing his partner to enter the ring, lest his team be counted out. Thanks to the fact that they're wearing identical costumes, and the fact that blind as a bat Clem can't read the big white “Uno” on his back, The Wild Chicano is allowed unhindered entry into the match by the official. Alix is another story entirely, however, and she greets Uno's return with a pair of thudding elbow strikes. The blows have Uno wobbling from side to side in extreme dizziness, but Ally steadies him by draping his arm across her's. Her assistance to her beleaguered foe ends there, and she brutally throws him to the canvas with her world famous True Life: I Just Got Beat up by a Girl (STO). The crowd roars their approval for the signature spot, as Uno lies on the mat besieged by miserable anguish. Alix celebrates her victory, by tossing kisses to the cheering spectators. COLE John, what do you think The South Central Militia meant earlier tonight when they said they had a plan? COACH I hope they meant taking you up to San Fran and tossing you off the golden gate bridge. Bored with thrashing the luckless pair from Mexico, Alix decides to let Krista in on the fun. She [i]moonwalks[/i] to her corner and makes the tag to her surly partner. Miss California's appearance earns a cheer from everyone in the arena, except for Uno who makes a mad dash to his corner to avoid a sound whupping from KID. But Krista halts his escape by sling shotting herself across the ring, and slamming her shoes into his back. She allows him to rise on his power, then drives a pair of elbows into his cranium before Irish whipping him towards a neutral corner. Krissy trails his path, looking to sandwich him between her body and the turnbuckle posts with a corner splash. But this plan goes quite wrong when Uno, seconds before he's to meet the corner pads, grabs onto the top ropes and uses them to push himself into the air. An alarmed Krista instantly slams on the breaks, avoiding a disastrous collision with the ring posts. But the fitness queen isn't quite in the clear, as airborne Uno entangles his legs around her neck. To the crowd's delight, the femme fatale quickly disposes of the irksome grappler by latching onto his inner thigh, yanking him away from the corner, and dropping him onto the top rope, savagely impaling his neck on the stiff cable. A muffled shriek leaves Uno's throat, as he flops to the canvas clutching his badly injured neck. “KRISTA! KRISTA! KRISTA!” yells the audience. COLE Sometimes it looks like Los Conquistadors might be able to string together a decent round of attacks, then other times it looks like they may be the worst team on earth. Feeling a teeny-tiny amount of pity for Uno's startling inability to do anything that doesn't involve getting beat up by women, Krista choses to challenge him to the only contest he could possibly beat her in; an arm wrestling match. She lies on her stomach, and offers her arm for a duel. Thankful for a reprieve from the horrific beatings, The Wild Chicano eagerly accepts her invitation to the unorthodox battle. He interlaces his fingers with her's and they promptly begin wasting everyone's time with an arm wrestling match. Being one buff mama, Krista has little trouble in overwhelming the disturbingly out of shape luchadore, who's grunting and sweating like he's trying to move the rock of Gibraltar, rather then arm wrestling a sub 150 pound, middle aged mother. Krissy merely smiles at him, as he continues to encounter spectacular failure in moving her arm even half an inch. Unfortunately for him, the embarrassment over being trounced at an arm wrestling match becomes the least of his worries, as the sometimes clever Alix Spezia, takes advantage of his vulnerable position by descending upon his frame with a spring board shooting star press! COLE Uh oh! “[b]¡Guárdese![/b]” a worried Dos bellows from the outside. But the warning comes too late for poor Uno, and Alix comes crashing down onto his back, to the immense enjoyment of the arena's entire population. Ally leaves the ring as quickly as she entered while tossing kisses to her adoring fans. The victim of her sneaky attack erupts with a volcanic scream of agony, as pain continues to gush throughout his back. To add insult to injury, Krista slams his arm to the canvas, officially claiming victory in their unusual arm wrestling affair. She then then dumps one final bit of salt into Uno's wounds by lying on top of him for a pinfall. The official drops to his knees to make the count. CROWD ONE CROWD TWO Dos breaks up the pinfall, which means his ally will not earn the dubious distinction of being the first wrestler to ever be pinned from an arm wrestling defeat. Unfortunately for the New Mexico native, his insistence on saving his associate looks to have come at the expense of his good health, as Krista zeros in on him with a lariat. He ducks bellow her attacking arm, causing her to recklessly zoom past. This moment of carelessness would be the perfect chance for him to decimate her lovely facial features with a superkick. However Krista turns that idea into a pipe dream, by leaping into his chest, and pressing her knees into his flabby pecs while her hands tighten around his collarbone. She cannonballs backwards, causing the downward momentum to dish an inordinate amount of pain to her witless rival's chest. Saving his comrade from further beatings, Uno returns to exact a measure of revenge on his tormenter, by trapping her into a rear waistlock. Unfortunately for him the hold stays applied for no more then three pitiful seconds before the blond bombshell shoots an elbow into his noggin. The fierce strike shatters his grip, and tortures him with a pounding headache. Pointing a menacing finger at Uno, Krissy flashbacks to her days as a dancer for Guns N Roses and yells “Welcome to the jungle, baby! You're gonna [color="#FF0000"][b]diieeeeeeeee[/b][/color]!” The taunt elicits a rolling pop from the fans, who probably grew up on an unhealthy diet of GNR and other testosterone fueled metal. Uno, however, is positively spooked by the threat, and reacts to it as if he just got crushed by an Undertaker chokeslam, diving to the canvas and convulsing in white hot “pain”, and nonsensically frothing at the mouth. The audience and Krista share a hearty laugh for Uno's ridiculous oversell of a non move. But after forty seconds of the luchadore's embarrassment the laughter lowers into unenthusiastic chuckles, then dies as stares of awkward pity and wounded sadness. When the pathetic Mexican finally realizes that he hasn't just been steamrolled by the second coming of Andre the giant, he rises to his feet, eager to regain what little honor he once had. Feeling somewhat bad over Uno's terrible performance thus far, Krista offers him the opportunity to take a free shot at her. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he crunches his gloved hand into a tight ball, then springs forward to knock her nose several inches to the right with a fearsome punch. Unfortunately his enormous platform boots conspire against him, and trip the luchadore face first to the mats! While the audience guffaws over Uno's latest gaffe, a sighing Krista simply helps him to his feet. Her rare show of kindness doesn't go unpunished, as Uno directs a trio of elbows into her tight tummy. He pulls her into a front facelock, and lifts her up as if he's about to deploy an Implant DDT. However he twists both their bodies around, then drops to the mat, so that the duo lands on their backs with her neck smacking off the ring floor. Searing pain pools around her neck, tugging apart the very structure that holds it together. Uno is tickled with delight to have been able to execute an actual offensive move, and seeks to experience more of the sweet joy that is success. He grabs onto Krista's flowing blond hair, and brings her to her feet where he attaches another front facelock. The Latino raises her into the air, then falls backwards, torpedoing her neck straight into the ring with the deadly brain buster DDT! Overjoyed at proving that he's not a miserable excuse for a human being, The Wild Chicano stands up and openly implores the crowd to worship at his feet. He starts to clap his hands together, stomping his heels against the mat, asking the fans to rally behind his achievements. Not a single person obliges the request. The audience's hands rest underneath their fat butts, leading a dejected Uno to perform pathetic slow clap down, and hang his head in shame. COLE Two measly moves and this guy thinks he's Alfdogg or Zack Malibu! Showing admirable resilience, Krista rises on her own accord. Her enemy emphatically tries to show her that it would've been wiser to stay on the mat and get pinned, by throwing a sidekick towards her midsection. But she catches firm hold of his shoe, indefinitely delaying the strike. She shakes her head like an admonishing mother, then dizzies her rival by spinning him in a 360 rotation. When the nauseated luchadore comes back to face her, she gives him a taste of his own medicine by striking him in the gut. The vile strikes doubles him over, and leaves him prey to any number of painful holds. Krista choses the most breathtaking of her gruesome options, by backfliping over Uno, catching him into a wasitlock, then upending him with a German Suplex in one glorious motion! A grotesque anguish infects Uno's battered neck, as the crowd bestows Krista's showy attack with an enormous cheer. COACH Dayum, bitch! What a german suplex! COLE I hope I can move like that when I'm that old. COACH You are that old, and you can't move that well. A returning Dos shrieks and shouts as he leaps onto his partner's assailant with a clubbing forearm. Two more similar strikes follow, blessing Los Conquistadors with a very delicate control of this contest. The Mexican Maniac clamps down on Krista with a front wasitlock, but watches in horror as she easily destroys the hold with a single headbutt to his nose. Blood splinters from his nostrils, as he clambers about the ring, unable to cope with the rapidly rising agony in his face. Miss California only adds to his problems by Irish whipping him towards the ropes. As he crosses the squared circle, Alix springboards off the ropes, pouncing her way across the ring. When she nears her opponent, she extends her feet forward and pierces them through his chest with a crowd popping dropkick! The girls have little time to celebrate their teamwork, however, as Uno has recovered, and has his mind set on retribution. Unfortunately for him his weak body and substandard wrestling skill are unable to act upon his thoughts of blood lust, and the beautiful ladies pounce upon him before he can even stage a proper attack. They latch onto him with twin rear facelocks, then obliterate the back of his skull with a savage double inverted DDT! COLE Chicks Over Dicks are taking over now! Perhaps Cole may have spoken to soon, as Dos is able to temporally dispose of Alix with a running forearm to the back. Krista, on the other hand, proves much more difficult in defeating, but the luchadore gives it his best efforts, trying to upend her with an STO. But the fitness queen turns the tables on her foe, by peeling backwards and gruesomely introducing his face to the canvas with a flatliner(reverse STO) COLE Folks if you're waiting for order to be restored, don't hold your breath, because Clem Buzzlefoxer's matches have a notorious history of breaking down into chaotic tornado tag situations, and never reverting back. “C-O-D! C-O-D!” Much to the target of the fans' love's chagrin, Los Conquistadors refuse to back down in the face of inevitable defeat. Uno accosts Krista and tries to fling her to the ropes with an Irish whip. But Krissy shifts the momentum of the hold and reverses it. Rather then let Uno takes his own run of the ropes, Krista holds onto his arm and pulls him in close to strike him with a knee to the midsection. The shot doubles the baddest man in Latin America over, and saps him of what little breath he has left. Figuring that he's little more then a dead man walking, Miss California takes to the skies to finish him off with a fameasser. But, Uno calls upon his last burst of strength to catch her in a samoan drop setup! Given the unusual nature of the hold's beginnings, his grip is nowhere near secure, thus Krista is easily able to slip out of it. She floats to his side, where her arms move quickly to lock him into an inverted facelock. On her descent she amazes everyone privileged enough to watch this glorified squash match with an inverted DDT! “KRISTA! KRISTA! KRISTA!” shout the fans, leading Krista to bow like a classical ballerina to their show of appreciation. Elsewhere in the ring, Dos is shooting himself towards a mat based Alix with a lionsault. But the now fully healed Ally sees the move coming a mile away and rolls forward to avoid it. Fortunately for Los Conquistadors, Dos saw her avoidance well in advance and succeeds in landing on his platformed boots. Gathering her strength, the perky cutie stands up to end the Conquistador nuisance once and for all. However, Dos shows that he won't go down so easily, by sending a closed fist to her face. However she stymies the thirty one year old's attempt by slicing a swift kick into his pudgy midsection. With the fans cheering her on, Alix sets her challenger up for a pile driver! Instead of using the basic and unimpressive move, she sunset flips forward and crushes her poor antagonist's cranium with the phenomenal [b]Burning Sensation When You Urinate[/b] (sunset flip pile driver)! Dos' head spikes into the mat, his body going limp before it even falls to the ground. After a prolonged stand still The Santa Fe native flops onto his back, unable to draw a single gasp from his lifeless caracass. With Dos permanently incapacitated by the lethal finisher, Ally treats the audience to their favorite of her signature moves and wiggles her tail like her name was Flipper. Canadian lads across the great white north unleash a maple syrupy jizzum upon their 1986 Jarri Kurri hockey cards, and Tragically hip albums, at the wonderful sight of Alix bouncing her luscious rump like she's got a V12 in her ass. Once she's done shaking her moneymaker, she flips backwards and lands on her brutalized foe with a standing moonsault. Buzzlefoxer, who now needs a new pair of pants and a box of tissues, drops to his knees to count the pin... CROWD ONE CROWD TWO CROWD [b]THREE[/b] After the word three leaves their lips, the fans erupt with jubilant cheers for the outcome. Sugarcult's hot joint leaks out of the speakers, competing with the rising noise level from the stands and the shouting ring announcer. BUFFER Your winners and still OAOAST World tag team champions....CHICKS OVER DICKS! COLE Krista said she was going to humiliate Los Conquistadors, and Uno seemed to get to worst of it, being beaten in arm wrestling, enduring a salsa dance knee drop, getting “slammed” by a pop song lyric, and having to stand around like a tool while Krista checked her lipstick before she clotheslined him into next week. Not a whole lot went well for him tonight. COACH I think Dos, The Mexican Maniac, is the one who's gotta get some pity. He's the one who got a sunset flip piledriver, he's the one who's hurting, and he got pinned by a bootysault! But, Krista promised humiliation, and she and Alix delivered, wrecking the debut of the new “Los Conquistadors”. By far the easiest title defense yet for Chicks Over Dicks, but you got to wonder, who's gonna take the next shot. It could come from anywhere. The girls react to this rather easy victory of the lowly Conquistadors like they just went through a sixty minute death match. Krista leans against the ropes for “support”, pointing to the sky and thanking god that he allowed her to live through this “brutal”, “career shortening”, ordeal. Alix sprawls out across the mat, huffing and puffing as if there isn't a single breath left in her body. Buzzlefoxer, who has time and time again been exposed as a complete moron, fails to get the joke and tries to apply CPR on Krista. I'm sure you can imagine how well an eighty six year old bony senior citizen sexually assaulting a buff fitness expert went off. We'll bring you updates on the location of Clem's funereal in the days to come. COLE Folks, quick reminder, the Chicks Over Dicks charity auction ends next Wednesday, and the winner will be announced live on HeldDOWN the following Thursday. It's not too late to put down your bid, and contribute to a great cause. Coach, how much did you bid? COACH Not a dime. I'm a pimp, I don't tip ho's, ho's tip me.

masked man of mystery! answers to your questions A: KingPK B No, not too late

We're whisked backstage where Jesse Ventura and Synth Eszier are busy disposing of the decapitated corpse of Josh Matthews. Just kidding. Actually, we just see The Lonestar Gunslingers walking through the parking garage, in matching cowboy hats, skin tight jeans to show off their cute butts, and black t-shirts. The only difference between them is that Baron has a cigar in his mouth. JOCK MULLIGAN Damn it, Baron, how many times I gotta tell ya, don't smoke them damn cee-gars 'round me no more. BARON WINDELLS You ain't my mama, don't go tellin' me what I can and cain't do. JOCK I ain't your mama, but I'ma gonna beat you like yer daddy if ya don't get rid of that thing. BARON Take it easy, kid. JOCK I ain't easy, and I ain't yer kid. Baron finally disposes of his cancer stick, but that does not mean all is harmonious in the land of the Gunslingers.... BARON You wanna have it out right here, Mulligan? JOCK Thought you'd never ask, Windells. Preparing to scrape, the boys take off their shirts, revealing their Adonis like physiques to the world. The sight of their gorgeous bodies leads the females in the audience watching on the big screen to pop with delight. However the blowup between the rougnecks never comes to pass, as their attention is caught by the alluring sight of [b]Melody Nerdly[/b] leaning against a red Chevrolet cavalier, with three cans of Budweiser sitting next to her. Her bright blond hair and attractive attire stands in hot contrast to the dreary frost of the surrounding area. The tail of her trench coat flaps out when a draft comes along, revealing a svelte figure poured into cowgirl boots, daisy duke shorts, and a midriff exposing tied up flannel shirt. Luscious blue eyes look the stunned Slingers over, as they fail in their attempt to form a complete sentence in the face of her beauty. MELODY (to herself) Man, my life completely sucks! I have here three frosty piles of fermented starched based goodness, yet thanks to a teenage accident with firecrackers, I have a much smaller bladder then that of your average twenty seven year old woman. If only there were two hunky, young Texans nearby who would aid this damsel in distress in her predicament! Oh, won't someone fall for my transparent scheme to attract attention? Melody slyly adjusts her trench coat to afford the slobbering Gunslingers and even better view of her titillating outfit. The flesh show is all the boys need to take Melody up on her offer to sip the beer she actually stole from a homeless man who keeps his fecal matter in a jar. BARON (whispering to Jock) How bout that one, Mulligan? Her pert n' perkies are sweeter then cream gravy. Let's bend an elbow with the lass, what do ya say? JOCK (stammering) Uh,um, I..I...I reckon me and my partner here might able to take that bumble bee whiskey off yer hands, miss. MELODY Oh good, it's so nice to find suckers stupid enough to fall for my trick. Uh, I mean it's nice to find suckers that are horny enough to appreciate a good rack. Name's Melody, by the way. BARON I'm... MELODY Don't say it, I already know. You're Baron Windells, two time Texas State Rodeo Champion, and you my nice tall glass of Texas bred milk are Jock Mulligan, the world famous Texas Twister! I spent forty eight straight hours staring at your website, mainly because Los Diablos De Fuego told me you left your webcam on when you were getting undressed. Curse you androgynous Mexicans! I wasted that twenty one free hours of AOL deal on their lies and deceit. Lies make baby Jesus cry, quote [i]The Simpsons[/i]. Say, where you guys really from anyway? JOCK San Antonio, Texas, miss. MELODY Why you lying sack of fly infested pig crap! When I h@XX0rd your website, it said the domain name was registered in Lubbock. BARON Born and raised in San Antone, ma'am. MELODY Get out! I'm from right around there. Yeah, grew up in a little old town outside of San Antonio, called Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. JOCK (to Baron) Canada ain't nowhere near San Antonio. Everyone knows it's by Tulsa, Oklahoma. BARON Quit shootin' your mouth off, Mulligan, and take a good gander at them bouncing betties. I bet they're the biggest toads in this here puddle. MELODY So, why are you out by yourselves in this lonely parking garage. I could understand if you were like me, and your only friends are those on your Myspace top eight, but you're the Lonestar Gunslingers, you need to be prepping for your world title match with Drek Stone. BARON Uh, Miss boob....Melody, we don't got a world title match tonight. JOCK You'd have to have a roster full of boogered up ladies and gents before we ever sniffed the hide of a world title. We ain't even got a match to speak of tonight. Only reason we came, is 'cause they'll fine us a thousand bucks if we don't show up. BARON It takes us four weeks just to make that much! MELODY You can't be serious. Impossible. Oh my microchips and bit processors, you are serious! That's ludicrous. City of Boston calling in a bomb scare over an Aqua Teen Hunger Force lite brite, ludicrous. 1-31-07 Never Forget. ATHF #1 in your hood, g. Jock, Baron, you are the hottest entity to come onto cable television since [i]Futurama[/i] reruns. Your matches are some of the most watched videos on YouTube! But instead of taking your rightful place in the main event and capturing a world title to bring respect back to this industry, they have you backstage, patrolling the parking lot for car theives and drinking beer that's just sixty percent homeless man urine. I don't believe this. I need to sit down. I am...I am shocked and appalled that these heartless monsters have conspired to confiscate what little enjoyment I, as a fan, and a human being, am able to derive from this sport. It is disgusting to me, the audience, the wrestlers, and anyone who's ever worked within this business to see that the oaoast stupidly and selfishly refuses to acknowledge that you are shooting stars of immeasurable talent and ability. JOCK Well, there ain't a whole lot we can do about it. MELODY Of course not! Because you're very stupid. But that doesn't mean anything. So you're never gonna reign supreme on [i]Celebrity Jeopardy[/i]? Big deal! What you need is someone with a vast, and unlimited intellect to harness your talent and guide you through the murky waters of the oaoast. Someone, with the wrestling knowledge to make navigating the awful oaoast jungle as easy as a stroll through the botanical gardens. What you need is your own personal [i]Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy[/i]. A manager! BARON Who do ya subreast....ggest....who do ya suggest? MELODY Only the sharpest wrestling mind to ever bless these hallowed halls. JOCK Don Dokken? MELODY The frontman for the late eighties hair metal band Dokken? Um, I was really just talking about me. JOCK You? MELODY Look, Melody likes what she sees. You're hot. You're happening. You are what it is now. And Melody wants to be there. I understand your concerns, my friends, and let me tell you, Melody Nerdly Wrestling Industries ain't called Melody Nerdly Wrestling Industries for nothing! Because Melody Nerdly only cares about one thing, the money! Er, the wrestling! Jock seems unsure of the offer, obviously sataisfied with being a lower midcarder who hasn't won a match in a year. Baron is concerned with much more important things, such as looking at her breasts. MELODY Normally, I don't even hang out with people I know in real life. Most of the time, we have to IM or MMORPG first, but I feel so strongly about this partnership, that I'm leapfrogging all of those steps and getting right to business. Listen, you need Melody on your team, because I am without question the most successful wrestling manager you will ever meet in your life. My credentials are beyond reproach, just check my Xbox 360 gamerscore, gamertag, MelNer420. I have been a part of this business for over seventy five years, and you don't achieve that kind of longevity just by being some fly by night floozy, exploiting uneducated rednecks in a miserable attempt to preserve her job. Have either of you guys ever heard of a Texas rattlesnake named Steve Austin? BARON You know Stone Cold? MELODY Heck yes, I know Steve Austin, I played a pivotal role in one of his many world title victories. I remember like it was yesterday. November of 1999. Wrestlemania 2000 for Nintendo 64 had just arrived in stores to much fanfare. After paying seventy five dollars, thanks to the screwed up currency exchange rate, which I blame on those filthy French Canadians, the entire army of Nerdly children, Melvin, Marvin, Martin, Molly, Me, Maddy, Maggie, Macon, Maxwell, Michelle, Morton, Mindy, Monica, Mitch, Moria, Makela, Malcom,Mandy, and Abdullah Abir, he's adopted, gathered around the basement TV to see who would be the first to claim WWF gold. Melvin picked Triple H. As if a conflicted closest case who shacks up with a pre-operation-female to male tranny like Chyna in order to fit into a heteronormative society, can go higher then the Euro title. Marvin used a Chris Benoit create a wrestler, wound up tagging with Big Bossman and eventually got jobbed out to Droz. Abdullah Abir used the Godfather, lost his first five matches, started rambling about jihad, and the system got locked up by our parents for a bit. But when we got it back, it was Melody's Turn, and Melody was like the cowgirl from hell, taking Stone Cold, to Intercontinental, European, Hardcore and finally world title gold, smacking down that effeminate leatherboy, HBK to win it all. And if all that can be accomplished by an eighteen year old, braces wearing, pimpled face, kind of chubby Melody, what do you think this much better looking and much more confident version of the same woman can do for you? JOCK I dunno... MELODY She can take you the top, to the top of the tag division, to the top of the OAOAST,and to top of the Space Needle, Malcom got a job as a ticket taker there, he'll sneak us in. How about it, guys? BARON It's 'bout time we start takin' some risks,Jock. MELODY Ain't no gamble hummin' this Melody, baby. Just straight butter, and we're takin it to the phat farm. The Slingers step away from Melody to have a huddle over this career altering(destroying?) decision. JOCK Ya think she can do it? BARON Who cares what she can do? Look at those crunchberries, Jock. Quit beatin' the devil around the stump, and tell her yes. Baron's repeated mentions of Melody's large chest is all the convincing Jock seems to need to give the green light to this new partnership. JOCK Sounds like you can Cowboy up with The Gunslingers! Welcome aboard, miss. MELODY Great, just great, guys. I'll text you as soon as I ink up a contract., and uh, hey, lose the midget, he's cramping the band's image. BARON There's no midget 'round here. MELODY Great, because he's become a Grade A1 pain in the keister! I gotta take off to pwn teh lamerz at World of Warcraft, and get some L33T armor drops, but you two stay awesome in the meantime. Melody leaves the scene of her crime, before The Gunslingers get the chance to come to their senses. That probably wouldn't be much of a problem, however, as they're stuck trying to figure out what the hell a “World of Warcraft” and “L33T armor drops” are. We then return to the only slightly less nerdy announce team. COACH Futurama? World of Warcraft? Quoting the Simpsons? What a geek! God messed up when he was matching a personality with her body. Dude got lazy.