Adam

HeldDOWN~! returns from commercial break with Colombian Heat back in the ring, a mallet in his hands. “Gasolina (Remix)” by Daddy Yankee featuring Lil’ Jon and Pitbull is playing as Heat fires up the crowd. COLE Back on HeldDOWN~!, and fans, we have no idea why Colombian Heat is in the ring. COACH Earlier tonight, Colombian Heat took Tha Puerto Rican’s 24/7 Title belt with him after he attacked PR in the ring. CABOOSE Hopefully, he’s here to give PRL back his title. COLE Well, I don’t know about that. Something is being covered with a big sheet in the middle of the ring. Colombian Heat grabs a microphone. He smiles before he speaks. COLOMBIAN HEAT Cut my music! “Gasolina (Remix)” by Daddy Yankee featuring Lil’ Jon and Pitbull dies down. The crowd is cheering, chanting “HEAT! HEAT! HEAT! HEAT!” COLOMBIAN HEAT Now, if all of y’all are ready to feel the Heat, make some noise up in this BI-AAAAAATCH~!!! CROWD YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!! HEAT Woo! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! CABOOSE You are going down, Heat. You’re going down! COLOMBIAN HEAT Now, if you’re just tuning in, earlier tonight, I laid the smackdown on Tha Puerto Rican’s candy ass! (The crowd cheers) And then, I took Tha Puerto Rican’s piece of crap that he calls a title away from him. (The crowd cheers again) Yeah. Now, I’m sure that I’m not alone in thinking that PRL’s title is the nastiest wrestling belt in the history of dis bizness. You know what I’m saying? The crowd cheers. COLE The crowd agrees with him. CABOOSE Colombian Heat can think? HEAT A’ight. A’ight. So, I’m sure dat all of you people would like it if dat belt was destroyed? Right? The crowd cheers again. CABOOSE NO! NO! NO! HEAT A’ight. Cool. Cool. So, what I’ma do now… Colombian Heat takes off the sheet to reveal what’s hiding underneath…Tha Puerto Rican’s custom made spinner 24/7 Championship belt! COLE So THAT’S what was hiding under there! CABOOSE OH NO! HEAT (CONT’D) …is put PR’s 24/7 Title out of its misery! COACH Colombian Heat is going to destroy Tha Puerto Rican’s 24/7 Title! COLOMBIAN HEAT Say goodbye, title! Colombian Heat puts his microphone down, and grabs the mallet. CABOOSE How is he able to get away with this? PRL, get out here right now! Vitamin X! Lindsay! Mr. Boricua! Cuban Wall! Hell, even THOMAS RODRIGUEZ! GET OUT HERE NOW! Colombian Heat plays to the crowd some more, and then stands over the spinner 24/7 Title belt, which is lying on top of a table. COACH Colombian Heat is doing all he can to piss off Tha Puerto Rican! CABOOSE THAT BELT COST $10,000 TO MAKE! HOW CAN HE DO THIS?!!! COLE Because Colombian Heat HATES Tha Puerto Rican, and wants to make him suffer! CABOOSE But is this the right way to do it? By destroying PRL’s most prized possession? By destroying a gift Vitamin X gave to Tha Puerto Rican at AngleSlam? COLE Yeah, I think that’s exactly why Colombian Heat wants to destroy the belt. Colombian Heat raises the mallet over his head. The crowd gets louder. CABOOSE NO DON’T! Heat is about to smash the title, when… *THE CHAMP IS HERE!* A lightning bolt hits the entrance! “Know Your Role ‘99” starts playing. Colombian Heat puts the mallet down and turns his attention towards the entrance. CABOOSE Oh Thank God. Thank God for Tha Puerto Rican. The entrance doors slide open, and “The Corporate Champion” himself walks out, along with Mr. Boricua, Cuban Wall, Vitamin X, and Thomas Rodriguez. PRL is obviously pissed off. Colombian Heat stands in the ring, showing no fear. COLE Maybe Colombian Heat wasn't actually going to destroy the title! Maybe he just acted like he would to bring Tha Puerto Rican out! CABOOSE You mean he went through all of that just to bring Tha Puerto Rican back out here? Tha Puerto Rican stands on the entrance stage with The Lightning Crew. PRL has a microphone of his own, and begins to speak while “Know Your Role ‘99” dies down. “THE CORPORATE CHAMPION” THA PUERTO RICAN Colombian Heat! How dare you! HOW DARE YOU! You were just about to smash MY PRESTIGIOUS 24/7 Title belt with a mallet? You were going to destroy a title that I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into? You were going to destroy a belt that I bust my ass off to defend night in and night out? Colombian Heat nods. PRL Well, Tha Puerto Rican says that you can go to HELL! The crowd boos. PUERTO RICAN Colombian Heat, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I am BETTER than YOU! And on January 29th, at Anglepalooza, I’ll prove it! But before that happens, I’d like it very much if you can grab MY title with your grubby, weak, filthy hands, leave the Corporate ring, walk up the Corporate ramp, and hand the title over to me, The Corporate Champ. Colombian Heat thinks this over. HEAT Hmmm. Nah, I think I’ll just keep it! Tha Puerto Rican yells. The Lightning Crew all stand ready to attack. PUERTO RICAN Heat! I’m not playing! This is not a joke! Heat, I want my belt back! And I WANT IT NOW! Do you hear me? NOW! The thousands of fans in attendance all chant in unison: “ ” COLOMBIAN HEAT I’m sorry, P. I couldn’t hear you. Everyone in this building is chanting “ASSHOLE!” at you! COLE This isn’t going the way PRL planned it. PRL Okay fine! You don’t want to do things the easy way? No? You want to do things the hard way? Fine! Guys, wait here! I’ve got some business to take care of! Puerto Rican puts his mic down and walks down the entrance ramp. The crowd starts booing. Colombian Heat prepares for a fight. COLE Uh-oh. PRL is coming to the ring. COACH He’s going to get his belt back no matter what it takes. Puerto enters the ring. He yells at Colombian Heat, demanding that he hand him his belt back. Suddenly, through the crowd and over the barricade comes Spanish Fly! Spanish Fly gets on the top rope…and jumps off with a crossbody onto Tha Puerto Rican! COLE Spanish Fly has just attacked Tha Puerto Rican! Spanish Fly attacks Tha Puerto Rican with Colombian Heat rooting him on! The crowd comes alive as Fly gives PRL a spinning wheel kick! Fly goes back to beating on P.R. Heat picks up PRL and whips him into the ropes. Heat gives PR a drop toehold onto the second rope. The crowd stands up and cheers, knowing what’s coming up next. COLE Here it comes. Spanish Fly looks at the crowd. SPANISH FLY 6-1-9! Spanish Fly bounces off the ropes…and does the 6-1-9 on Tha Puerto Rican! COLE The 6-1-9 connects! Spanish Fly just gave PRL the 6-1-9! Puerto falls to the mat, holding his head in pain. Spanish Fly and Colombian Heat high five each other. But their smiles fade when they see Cuban Wall, Mr. Boricua, and Vitamin X storming into the ring. Colombian Heat and Spanish Fly quickly escape, leaving PRL’s 24/7 Title belt behind. CABOOSE Look at those cowards! Leaving the ring as soon as more people show up! COACH Colombian Heat and Spanish Fly are smart. They know they’re outnumbered, so they escaped. However, they’ve sent their message loud and clear! COACH PRL has had a bad night thanks to those two! CABOOSE Oh well. At least PRL has his belt back. Cuban Wall, Mr. Boricua, and Vitamin X check on Tha Puerto Rican. Spanish Fly and Colombian Heat are standing somewhere in the crowd. They look at what’s happening in the ring with smiles on their faces. CABOOSE Poor PR. He’s in terrible pain, I bet! He needs some help! Puerto Rican goes to grab the microphone Heat left in the ring. Cuban Wall, Vitamin X, Mr. Boricua, and Thomas Rodriguez help him up. COLE PRL has the microphone again. CABOOSE Colombian Heat is going to pay for this. Believe me. PRL will hurt him for what he’s done tonight! PUERTO RICAN Hey! Hey Heat! Hey Spanish Fly! You think you were going to get away with this? You think you were going to go unpunished? Well, think again! Next week on the first HeldDOWN~! of 2006, let’s have a match. A non-title match between me…and Spanish Fly! Spanish Fly likes that announcement. PRL (CONT’D) Yeah. Yeah. I know you want a rematch Spanish Fly. I know you’ve wanted to fight me again! Well, now you’ll get your wish! But let’s make it interesting. Let’s spice it up a bit. If you win, Fly, then, The Lightning Crew will be banned from ringside in my match against Heat at Anglepalooza! COLE That sounds good. PRL BUT! And this is a big BUT. If I win, IF I WIN, then Spanish Fly, January 5, 2006 will be the last day you will ever wear a mask, because you will have to remove your mask and show your face for the entire world to see! COLE Oh my. That’s not good. The crowd boos that announcement. Spanish Fly is shocked. PRL You see, Fly. I may have taken your mask a few months ago, but I never finished the job, since nobody ever got to see your face! Well, now, everyone will know what you look like after I beat you next week! Spanish Fly talks to Colombian Heat. PUERTO RICAN So, Spanish Fly. Treasure this week. Pray that these next 7 days last forever. Because next week on HeldDOWN~!, you will lose your mask forever thanks to ME! “The Corporate Champion” Tha Puerto Rican! Oh, and, Happy New Year! THE CHAMP HAS SPO-KUN~!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAA!!! The crowd boos. A “P.R. SUCKS!” chant starts up again. COLE What a shocking announcement! So much on the line next week as Tha Puerto Rican takes on Spanish Fly one-on-one! If Fly wins, then The Lightning Crew will be banned from ringside for PRL’s match with Colombian Heat at Anglepalooza. COACH And if Tha Puerto Rican wins, then Spanish Fly will have to unmask in the middle of the ring! CABOOSE This is going to be great! Next week on HeldDOWN~!, we will witness a slaughter AND an unmasking! PRL’s got this in the bag! Next week, Spanish Fly’s mask is coming off! What a way to kick off 2006! COLE Indeed, the first HeldDOWN~! of the New Year has just gotten even more interesting! Will Spanish Fly lose his mask next week? The camera does a close-up of Spanish Fly. Spanish Fly has a worried look on his face (well, what we can actually see of his face). **************************************** We cut back to Josh Matthews, standing in front of the HeldDown Logo. J-MATH Welcome back everyone to the last edition of HeldDown for Two Thousand Five. I am joined at this time by the man who could be the next General Manager of HeldDown, former OAOAST Champion, Axel. Axel, what were your motivations for making this match with your contract clause? AXEL Ha. Why did I make this match? Come on Josh, its clear. I wanted to go after the World Title again, but Calvin stood in my way. I took a step back and I realised, hey, why bother being the champion, when you could be the boss? Its not as if Calvin has been the greatest General Manager out there. He booked Stephen Joseph in Pay Per View main events. That's worse than booking The South Central Militia in a Tag Title match. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" AXEL But seriously, who better than the fan's favourite, the fighter, the OAOAST's Most Dangerous Man, to be in charge? Calvin's all doom and gloom, all stressed and shit. I'd never get to that point. Being the boss is about two things. Giving the fans what they want... "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAHHHH!" AXEL ...and using every single perk you have to make your life the easiest one ever. "lol" AXEL So Calvin, Sunday night, January the first, you and me, we're gonna go to war in that ring. This is about money. This is about power. This is about fame. All or nothing pal, all or nothing. I know how good I am, the question is, do you think you can beat the unbeatable? Pin the unpinable? Tame the un...tameable? J-MATH Tame-able. AXEL Thought so. Anyway, do you think you can win? I doubt it. But we'll see. I'm going to go out there on Sunday and start a new era for this company. I'll be in charge. You're in for a wild ride. J-MATH We certainly are. Back to you guys! COLE What a New Years Spectacular it will be. Axel and Calvin fighting it out for the position of General Manager. You'll notice a few absentees tonight, Calvin is preparing for his match, Peter Knight is doing the same. CABOOSE Peter Knight has one last chance Sunday night to win the OAOAST Championship. The deck is stacked, which way will it fall? We'll find out in three days. COLE But coming up next guys, the Tag Lethal Rumble, eight top teams face off, who will win? We'll find out, NEXT! *COMMERCIAL BREAK*

COLE Welcome back to HeldDOWN~!. Up next, we have OAOAST World Women's Champion Ashl...wait, what? There's something going on in the locker room! Let's cut back! (Cut to a shot of Brodie Lewis brawling with security outside of the building. She basically knocks one guy down, then starts beating up on the next.) BRODIE You're afraid of me! You're all afraid of me! I'd DESTROY ASHLEY! Let me in! The camera zooms out, as this chaos keeps erupting with Brodie. It stops zooming out to reveal that the cameraman was filming from inside...and over the shoulder of Julie "The Shark" Sharcor, standing stoic with her arms crossed, just staring a hole into the situation. (Cut back to arena, where Confusia's in the midst of her entrance, running around ringside) BUFFER The following is a NON-TITLE bout. First, from the Middle of Nowhere and weighing in at 164 pounds...CONFUUUUSIA! Confusia slides into the ring and kneels in a corner. The opening strains of Rise Against's "Any Way You Want It" start up, and out comes Ashley Street! BUFFER From Evansville, Indiana...she weighs in at 159 pounds and is the current OAOAST Women's Champion...ASHLEEEEEY STREEEET! Ashley slaps hands with fans, then slides into the ring. COLE This is basically a tale of two back-stories: Street wants and needs to finish this match as quick as possible to avoid any injuries going into the six-way title bout at the Pay-Per-View, while Confusia, who doesn't have the most wins in the world, needs this victory to get herself at the top of the mountain. ::BELL RINGS:: Confusia goes nuts and runs around inside the ring, in circles. She then stops and completely freezes right in front of Ashley...who is confused by this. Confusia then snaps out of it, and they lock-up. Confusia applies a headlock out of the lock-up. Confusia cranks in on the headlock, but Ashley is able to pull her head out, take Confusia down to her stomach with a legsweep, then floats over into a front facelock. Ashley hooks Confusia's arm and tries to turn her over into a pin, but Confusia crawls over into the ropes to force a rope break. COLE Don't let looks deceive you: Confusia's a very smart wrestler. Both come up, and Confusia sticks her hand out to try and go into a Greco-Roman knucklelock. Ashley slowly latches one hand...but Confusia rolls backwards to twist the arm, then applies a front hammerlock. Street doesn't suffer in the hold for long, going behind Confusia and going into a reverse hammerlock. Confusia tries for a go-behind to reverse it, but Ashley backs up some, lets Confusia turn around, and walk right into a snapmare. Ashley tries to ground Confusia with a rear chinlock, but Confusia immediately turns herself over, gets out of the hold by rolling forward, then applies a headlock of her own. She pulls Ashley up with it, then is sent off to the ropes. Confusia comes off, leapfrogs over Ashley, then goes for a flying headscissors after coming off of the ropes again...and Street reverses it into a uranage backbreaker! COACH Geez! Ashley is then able to chain that into a suplex hook, which she uses to bring Confusia over with a fisherman's suplex... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Confusia immediately rolls to the outside. The referee starts to count her out, as Confusia screams jibberish and jogs around the ring... ONE! TWO! THREE! Confusia makes a fan in the front row get out of his chair, then tosses the chair into the ring. The referee stops his count so that he can grab the chair and get it out of the ring. Ashley is distracted long enough by this to allow Confusia time to slide into the ring and forearm Street from behind, onto all fours! COLE Like I said: she's smarter than she looks. Confusia pulls Ashley up and slams her back down to the mat, then runs at the ropes and hits a Lionsault elbow drop! Confusia goes for the cover... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Confusia pulls Street up, and kicks her in the stomach. Confusia then lifts Ashley for a suplex and drops her in a gutbuster. Confusia follows that up with a gutwrench suplex. Confusia keeps Ashley on the mat, then comes off of the ropes and delivers a leaping kneedrop onto Street's mid-section. Confusia follows up by beating her chest like Tarzan for some reason...then coming off of the ropes and delivering the old Earthquake BUTT Splash! She goes for the cover... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Confusia pulls Ashley up, shoves her into a corner, then delivers a stiff forearm shot to her face. Confusia connects with another, then sends Ashley off to the opposite corner with an Irish whip. Confusia charges at her and leaps for a monkey flip...but gets caught. Street then flips Confusia in mid-air, and Confusia lands on her feet somehow, then hitting a Superman Spear (floating out like a superhero with your arms extended and spearing the opponent in the corner). Confusia's right back onto her feet, as Ashley stumbles out of the corner, right into a lifted Flatliner by Confusia. Confusia then wraps the bottom of her legs around Ashley's shins like a surfboard hold, grabs her wrists, yanks back as she sits down, then pulls back on Ashley until she can lock in a Dragon Sleeper from this position. COACH Two human beings should not be able to combine to make a 90-degree angle! Confusia cranks back on the hold but only briefly, as Street starts repeatedly throwing back-handed strikes to Confusia's face until she dazes Confusia enough to force a break of the hold. Street unlatches her legs and crawls away. Ashley then comes off of the ropes, looking to perform some running strike on her downed opponent. But, Confusia out-thinks Street and is able to bring her down with a drop toe hold. Confusia climbs up on Street and rolls her over with a Gedoh Clutch (on top of opponent ala camel clutch, then lean forward to roll opponent on shoulders)... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Confusia gets up before Ashley can, and is able to pull her up and hit a snap side suplex, crashing down to the mat with impact. Confusia then proceeds to sit Ashley up, position herself in almost an electric-chair-like position, wrap her feet under Ashley's thighs, and sits back into a wacky luchaized victory cradle... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Confusia pulls up Street in a huff, and applies an abdominal stretch. Confusia cranks back on it, as Street reaches outward while in pain. The crowd starts clapping in rhythm, trying to get behind their favorite. The louder their response comes, the more Ashley is able to combat the hold. Ashley is able to loosen the hold enough to be fully standing and attempt a hiptoss reversal. But, Confusia drops down to her knees, brings Street down with a fireman's carry, then bridges over her body for a pin cover... COLE This is known as a "Torre Bianco" in Japan... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Confusia argues with the referee...we think (again, she speaks no language at all). Confusia pulls Street up angrily, then connects with a sit-out frontface suplex. Confusia then goes up top, and is set to deliver a Whisper in the Wind senton...but Ashley moves out of the way and Confusia crashes to the mat! Both are down, as the referee counts them down. The referee gets up to five, as Confusia's up to a knee and Ashley is crawling to the ropes to pull herself up. By seven, Confusia's on her feet and Ashley's on her knees. Confusia rushes over to pull Ashley up...but Street BLASTS her in the face with a forearm! COACH DAMN! Confusia staggers back as Street stands up and comes at her with another forearm! Street sends her off to the ropes with an Irish whip. Confusia comes off of the ropes and runs right into an overhead belly-to-belly suplex toss! Street goes for a pin! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Confusia tries to crawl away from Street, but Street pulls her closer in by the foot. Ashley pulls Confusia up and goes for a slingshot suplex. However, Confusia is able to sling herself over Street's shoulder as she's being brought back, and lands on her feet. Confusia brings Ashley down into a schoolgirl... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Both come up, and Street runs right into a spinning heel kick by Confusia. Confusia pulls Ashley up and, for some reason, attempts a cross-face chicken wing. But, Ashley pulls herself away from Confusia before she can get it applied, then performs a go-behind and drills Confusia onto her skull with a bridging German suplex! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Ashley rolls Confusia over, and Confusia stumbles up to one knee...and Street goes for the SHINING I HATE YOUR FACE!... BUT, Confusia ducks the kick! Street's momentum causes her to stumble into the ropes, giving Confusia enough time to sprint up to the second rope! Street regains control of herself, then turns around and nails Confusia in the face with a leaping forearm! The blow dazes Confusia, as Street climbs up. She hooks Confusia and hits a big superplex! But, both roll back and try for a small package at the same time! All four shoulders are placed on the mat... ONE! TWO! THREE! COLE Wait...both wrestlers were pinned! COACH Let's see the referee's decision on this! The referee climbs out of the ring, and whispers something in Michael Buffer's ear, as both competitors sit on the mat and await his decision... BUFFER Both Confusia and Ashley Street's shoulders were pinned to the mat during that pinning predicament, therefore this match has been ruled a DRAW! The referee comes back into the ring to clearly communicate his point of view with the wrestlers. Confusia just sits in apathy, as Ashley bolts up from the mat and starts yelling at the referee... COLE It looks as if Ashley's such a proud wrestler that, even in non-title predicaments, she wants a clear winner! The referee backs into a corner in fear of the Women's Champion. The referee looks around frantically...then yells at the timekeeper to ring the bell! :BELL RINGS:: COLE He's re-starting the bout! Street pumps her fist out in front of her in joy...and gets rolled up in a leaping O'Connor Roll from Confusia out of nowhere! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Confusia then comes off of the ropes. Street's back up and throws a clothesline, but Confusia rolls right underneath it. Street turns around...and Confusia spews mist into her eyes! COLE The referee has to be in ridiculous mis-position to not see THAT! Street wanders around, freaked out by what had just happened. She walks RIGHT into a Michinoku Driver from Confusia! Confusia pulls Ashley close to the ropes, then busts out an Ultimo Dragon-style headstand in the corner...right into an awesome Arabian Press! COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE! ::BELL RINGS:: BUFFER YOUR WINNER...CONFUUUUUSIA! COLE Wow! Confusia picks up a non-title victory over the Women's Champion, albeit an uncleansed victory! COACH We expected Confusia to put up a fight...but it looks like the fight she's putting up is a dirty one! (A shot of Josh Matthews standing in front of the OAOAST Office Room backstage interrupts Cole & Coach) JOSH Sorry to interrupt what's amounted to a huge victory for Confusia, but the wrestlers contending for the Women's Title in the Six-Way Survival Scramble elimination bout at Anglepalooza have been picked! First off, we have (reading off of a piece of paper)..."Floggin'" Molly Matthews! (cheers) Serena Blackmore! (slight boos) El Chica Generico! (cheers) Constance! (boos) ...and the woman who just defeated the Women's Champion, Confusia! JOSH Remember, Ashley Street versus Confusia vs Serena Blackmore versus Molly Matthews versus El Chica Generico versus Constance at Anglepalooza for the Women's Title! Should be great! (Cut back to ringside and to a shot of Ashley being helped to the back) COLE So, at Anglepalooza, Confusia's gonna get a chance to re-do her victory tonight at actually win the belt! COACH Along with four other contenders, Cole! Should be huge! COLE That, it should be. More in a few! *COMMERCIAL BREAK*

************************************* The camera cuts to The Lightning Crew dressing room. The Lightning Crew has huddled over “The Corporate Champion” Tha Puerto Rican, trying to get him to feel better after Colombian Heat’s attack earlier in the show. Ms. Lindsay Gonzalez puts a hot towel on PRL’s head. Thomas Rodriguez is checking on PRL’s legs. The rest of The LC are giving PRL words of encouragement. “You’ll be fine! You’ll get Colombian Heat! You’re the best! You rule!” PRL isn’t paying attention to any of it. He is still groggy from Heat’s attack. He sits up, his eyes glazed over. “THE CORPORATE CHAMPION” THA PUERTO RICAN Where—Where—Where is my belt? Where’s The Corporate Champ’s belt? Where’s my belt? THOMAS RODRIGUEZ Um, P.R. Uh…the belt’s not here. PRL What…what? What do you mean the belts not here? Huh? What do you mean? VITAMIN X Colombian Heat took the belt after he beat you up. THOMAS Yeah. He and Spanish Fly left with it. THA PUERTO RICAN He…what? He what? HE WHAT?!!! HE TOOK THE BELT?!!! MS. LINDSAY GONZALEZ Now calm down, baby. Calm down. We’ll worry about getting the belt back later. Right now, let’s see to it that you get better. Tha Puerto Rican sits up again and takes the hot towel off of his face. PRL is pissed. PUERTO RICAN I AM fine! Tha Puerto Rican is perfectly fine. He’s 100% fit and ready to go! Now let’s go and get MY belt back! THOMAS RODRIGUEZ Wait, boss. Are you sure? I mean, you got beat pretty badly out there. TPR Are you questioning me? Are you questioning your leader? THOMAS (suddenly nervous) Uh, no sir! PR Thought so. Now, guys, let’s go out there and get my belt back. I will NOT, and THA PUERTO RICAN MEANS NOT, spend New Year’s Eve without MY PRESTIGIOUS 24/7 Title! Now, what are we waiting for? Let’s go! Tha Puerto Rican leaves the room. The Lightning Crew look at each other, confused looks on their faces. *COMMERCIAL BREAK*

COLE Well, we thought our first ring action of the night was the previous match, but it was not to be. This next tag match though promises to be a doosy. The emotionally heavy lyrics of Don't believe the hype by hip-hop legends Public Enemy come through the arena speakers and into your living room. The entrance doors spread apart, revealing the trio that comes straight out of the mean streets of Compton, the South Central Militia BUFFER Ladies and gentlemen the following match is scheduled for one fall with a televised time limit of sixty minutes. Coming to the ring at this time, accompanied by the foxiest honey in South Central L.A....from South Central Los Angeles, representing Jim Cornette Enterprises, at a combined weight of 535 pounds...the SOUTH CENTRAL MILITIA! Clad in black leather pants, lined with rhinestones down the legs, and a tight black halter top, Shyanne is a model of feminine perfection. The male members of the SCM stroll to the ring, looking like they were ripped straight out of a Bow-Wow video. Certainly these are no pretty wrestlers dressed as studio gangsters. These, as Eazy E would sing, are real muthafuckin g's. And BUTT ugly ones at that! The dangerous men are one to be wary of, and fans in the front rows scatter backwards unwilling to incur their indiscriminant wrath. Vincent "Whitey" Santana and Marcellus "One-Eye" Wallace slide into the battle field, one again succeeding in frightening poor Micheal Buffer. CABOOSE I'm guessing someone in the front office got a hold of Alix's pal Mary Jane (wink wink) and thought hey I bet a COD/SCM would rock, dudes! Far out! COACH How wrong you are, my purposeless amigo. Sit tight everyone, for Coach, wrestling's greatest orator will tell why this is a match with rich with history and backstory. The SCM after floundering in obscurity for the better part of a year came under the umbrella of Jim Cornette Enterprises. Within in this umbrella exist the tag team named The Midnight Express. This tag team holds the distinction of being one of only three teams to ever pin Chicks Over Dicks. Within the Express, exists a man called Ned Blanchard. Ned happens to be the estranged father of a child named Maya Olivia Myrick, who's mother happens to be Krista Tyler Myrick. Or as you rubes call her, Krista Isadora Duncan. But it gets better. The Midnight Express and The South Central Militia are being held responsible for injuring Holly-Wood. Holly happens to be the sister of the man Alix was slated to marry, Northstar. Currently Holly dates Logan Mann of The Heavenly Rockers. But before The Heavenly Rockers had eyes for Holly, their focus was on Chicks Over Dicks. A failed attempt at making the girls their groupies, saw the HR's forced into being their servants. Right now The Rocker's have an issue with The SCM as well as the NNMX. The NNMX, allies of the SCM, are embroiled in a beef with The Usual Suspects consisting of Leon Rodez and Zack Malibu. Leon is Alix's boyfriend. While Zack and Alix absolutely despise each other. Did that make sense? CABOOSE No. The opening guitar strands of pop sensation Lindsay Lohan's cover of Edge of Seventeen play, as a gorgeous red pyro fountain springs forth from the stage. It meets with an equally lovely pink pyro waterfall, cascading from the ceiling. As the drum roll of the song kicks up, both the pyrotechnics dissipate, replaced by a booming gold explosion that engulfs the entire stage! I know that's the third time I used that entrance word for word. I don't care. Suck my BUTT, OAOAST. Suck it and love it every hot minute of it, you naughty, naughty sluts. Through the unhealthy amount of smoke and harsh florescent lights emerges the OAOAST's sweethearts, Chicks Over Dicks! The girls are recipients of a gargantuan pop from every one of the spectators. Alix jerks her body back and forth, flinging her arm in the air to the beat of the pop tune. Krista downs a swig of Jack Daniels, and hurls the empty bottle over her shoulder, where it hits a stagehand in the face and pokes out one of his eyes. C'est la vie, mon ami! BUFFER And the opponents...first from Los Angeles, Californ-i-a, she is the 2005 OAOAST Babe of the year, and former tag team champion, ALIX MARIA SPEZIA!! And her partner from Tinseltown, Los Angeles California, she is the author of the New York Times bestseller Soul of a Womyn, and star of the Fit with Kid line of exercise videos. She is...KRISTA ISADORA DUNCAN. Together they form CHICKS OVER DICKS! Alix, cheerfully flouncing down the ramp, wears a checkered pattern hot pants matched excellently with a long sleeve zipper front crop top. Krista wears shimmering gold leather pants, and a goldhalter top with a deep plunging neckline. The women roll into the squared circle to face one of the largest units they've ever encountered. COLE Both of these squads hail from Los Angeles, but the similarities of the parts of LA they come from are few. The SCM are based in South Central LA, the heartland of the city's infamous street gangs, boasting memberships that go into six digits. In South Central crime is rampant and hope is scarce. Alix and Krista come from the land of Mercedes, celebrities, high fashion, wild parties, ten million dollar homes, and lot of plastic surgeons, Beverly Hills for Alix and West Hollywood for Krista. COACH Is this wrestling's social commentary of the disparity between the classes in Southern California? Who will prevail tonight? The cold blooded white gang banger, and his convicted felon partner from Watts? Or the rich white girls from West LA? The outcome seems to be shrouded in the city's famous smog, because I can't see a winner! DING DING DING The sound of the bell leads Santana to develop a fiendish expression, as the Great White smells the blood in the OAOAST waters. Baring his platinum fangs, he invites Alix in for a lockup. Always the naive one, Alix stupidly accepts the invite. Shunning the lockup, his fist quickly devour his gullible victim with three straight left hooks. Already overwhelmed by this mighty antagonist, Spezia is about to topple over like a house of cards. But the predator keeps her upright, grabbing onto her chestnut colored hair, as he continues to batter her with his fists. Finally he ends his punch parade, coiling his gargantuan arms around her waist like twin pythons. From there he roughly jerks Alix into the air, holding her horizontally. After fifteen seconds passes he nonchalantly drops her frame across his knee for a pendulum back breaker. COLE Well, Chicks Over Dicks refused an invitation to the Anderson Cup. On the surface that seems crazy, but as we've come to learn what seems crazy with these two often turns out to be rather beneficial. Grounded, Alix scuttles away from the loathsome hooligan. She utilizes the cables to pull herself up, but is quickly backed into a neutral corner by her unrelenting pursuer. Lashing forward he cracks her in the kidneys with a vile knee. Santana strolls back, taking his sweet time to measure the defenseless grappler. He lurches towards her, smashing a nasty forearm across her forehead, The fans remain firmly planted on Alix's side despite her poor showing thus far. Taking hold of her arm, Santana hurls her to the opposite corner with a whip. Shockingly Alix has the wits about her to ascend to the top rope and attack an arriving Whitey with a gracefully executed springboard clothesline. Sadly the move does barely a hint of damage to the heartless hoodlum. In fact it merely stokes his blazing fire. He takes this unrestrained aggression out on Alix's chest with a single barbaric knife edge chop. The sting of the grotesque blow knocks Alix all the way to the corner, where she crumples to the mat. Even in her clouded state, Alix is smart enough to keep her feet underneath the ropes, making certain she can't be pinned. CABOOSE Did you see that chop by Vincent Santana? He's a hard hitter. That's why Jim Cornette likes these guys. Gritting her teeth, Alix pulls herself to her feet. Upon standing, she spots a clothesline that possess the lethality and gruesomeness of a French Revolution guillotine heading her way. Unlike Marie Antoinette, Alix sidesteps a dastardly beheading, letting the turnbuckle take the brunt of Vince's lariat. The feisty grappler jumps to the third rope and springboards off with a crowd popping spinning wheel kick. While the move fails to drop Vinny, it does leave him dazed. The relative success leads her to try a variation, a majestic springboard back heel kick! Already off balance, a surprised Vincent is dropped to the mat! “LET'S GO ALIX! LET'S GO ALIX! Alix's heart sinks to the pit of her stomach as she watches Santana stand up, displaying no ill effects from her springboard combo. With great determination she slides into him for a wheelbarrow setup. Not holding the greatest of wrestling knowledge, Santana hasn't a clue what to do. As such Alix effortlessly shoots her body up, and grabs the South Central beast in a headlock, then drops forward for a successful bulldog! Cussing loudly, One Eye slams the turnbuckle pad in frustration with his partner's gross incompetence. CABOOSE One-Eye getting a bit angry over there. He's trying to light a fire under Vince's BUTT. At Krista's urgent request, Alix journeys to her corner and makes the tag. Krista's entrance into the contest is met with hearty cheer from those in attendance. After coming into the ring, the blonde bombshell leaps onto Santana for an ill advised monkey flip. Who knows what would make a holder of two masters degrees think she can monkey flip someone who can probably bench press twice her weight. Possibly the liquor? As you can probably guess her strategy doesn't work. Treating her body with all the he'd respect he'd show a common ant, Vince grabs her long, smooth, tanned legs, and runs to the edge of the ring, attempting to give her a modified running over the ropes powerbomb. Krissy barely wards off a catastrophic plunge to the outside when she sits on the top cable and grabs onto it for dear life. The fact that Krista isn't being wheeled out of the arena in a stretcher boils the ex-convict's blood. Seeing red, he heads directly for her gorgeous face with a lariat! However, KID hinders this ferocious effort, and wraps her muscular legs around his thick neck. In one blink and it's over motion she sends the gladiator tumbling to the mats with a hurricanrana! Santana lands knee first, howling in pain the second he slams into the thin black pads. One-Eye, like the cheering crowd, has little sympathy for his ally's plight, and rudely orders him to get up and get to work. Krista, who managed to pull herself back into the ring, jumps to the top rope. Amazing every last person in the arena and ignoring the plea's of her health insurance provider, Krista hurls good judgment to the wind, and launches herself at Vince with a dazzling corkscrew moonsault press. Fan's across the globe hold their collective breath out of realistic fear that she might miss her mark. But she lands squarely on the big man, leading to a round of “K-I-D!” chants! COLE Marcellus looks like he's about to blow! Krista has nary a moment to bask in the crowd's adoration as the cold blooded knockout, Shyanne, is preparing to lower the boom on her. Snarling, Shyanne grabs a chunk of Kris' golden locks and harshly pulls her off Vince. And we have a.....CATFIGHT! Krissy powerfully spears the amazon to the floor. They roll around on the mat, tossing the fans' and Coach's hormones into overdrive, as they rip at each other's tight fitting tops. Krista eventually takes the cat out of the equation and turns it into an all out fight, as she rains down a flurry of murderous closed fists! Fortunately for the SCM, a recovered Vince lunges at Krista, tackling her off Shyanne and ramming her into ring apron! Taking advantage of Krista's prone position, Whitey wallops her with fists aimed directly at her ribcage. She frantically tries to shield herself from the gruesome blows. However there exists little in the way of defense against these punches that explode pain across her body as they land in rapid succession. At the request of Billy Silverman, who's getting mercilessly chewed out by Alix about the cheap tactics and his poor comb over, Santana rolls Krista back into the squared circle. “LET'S GO KRISTA! LET'S GO KRISTA!” scream the spectators Krista rises, having some difficulty breathing thanks to the onslaught of punches aimed at her ribs. The high flying diva meets her returning assailant with a melody of chops and forearms. The strikes, thrown as hard as Krista's body will allow, barely register in Vince's mind, causing as much anguish as a mere mosquito bite. Sporting an understandable look of alarm, Krista dashes to the ropes. Saying a little prayer to whatever deity will listen, Izzy flings herself at her rival with a body splash. Vince latches onto her slender hips and easily shoots her into the sky, joyfully planning to lariat her into oblivion on her descent. Forced to think quickly, lest she wind up in the second row, Krista shifts her body horizontally, grabbing hold of Vince's large cranium for a bulldog. However the thuggish lout kills what little momentum she has, reversing her attack into an across the knees rib crusher! “OOOOOOH!” goes the crowd, sympathizing with Kris' harrowing ordeal. Krista lies on the sweat stained mat, clutching her piqued ribs, her hair like rays of sunshine cloaking her expression of sorrow. Santana casually strolls to his corner, and gives a tag to the fresh One Eye. The gold toothed superstar enters the bout and scoops up beleaguered Krista, whipping her across the ring to a neutral corner. Before the horrific collision with the pads can slump her to the mat, One Eye impales Krista with a furious running s houlder block to the ribs. Grimacing, Izzy begins to move away, seeking to establish much needed distance between herself and the fearsome beast. It's to no avail as Marcellus holds her in place, repeatedly lodging disgusting stomps into her toned stomach. COACH From what I understand the South Central Militia have accepted their Anderson Cup invitation. I don't know who they'll face, but as long as they keep bringing Shyanne to the ring, I hope they make it all the way to the finals! Leading her by the hair, Marcellus pulls Krista to the center of the ring. Wallace beams with despicable pride as he assess the reprehensible damage he and his partner have wrought. The master brawler whips a forearm into Krista's afflicted ribs. From there he methodically works over her midsection with a savage mixture of punches and elbow strikes, all aimed with pinpoint precision. Unable to withstand the intense pain Krista sinks to her knee, but still manages to muster the vigor to fire a defiant punch to Wallace's stomach. The distressed crowd prepares to raise their mood by cheering a triumphant comeback. But Marcellus crushes all jubilation with a firm elbow to the gorgeous lady's face. The 6'2 grappler backs off, talking smack to Alix, who isn't afraid to talk it right back. After ceasing his jawing, One Eye bolts forward, raking his black boot across the side of Kris' head, pushing her to the mat. He covers her for a pin, his stunning lack of wrestling knowledge being the reason he does not hook the leg. 1 2 KICK OUT! “YEAAAAAH!” “Come on, Krista!” Alix yells, the hyper flower child beating her hands against the turnbuckle. Appearing a tad flustered by his fellow West Coaster's resilience, Marcy gets to his feet, dragging Krista along with him. His fists act as a hell spawned paint brush, painting black and blue across her beige canvas. Rather then sensibly stick with what works, Wallace gets a notion that it might be a swell idea to diversify his moveset, which happens to be shorter then Danny Devito. Thus he whips Krista to the cables, and waits for his prey to return so he can rearrange her face with a big boot. Problematically he foolishly whips the best selling author to the ropes nearest COD's corner. Alix's, who's been so disheartened by the bout's proceedings, can scarcely believe her onyx eyes. It's as if Krista's arrival is a glorious mirage, too magnificent to be true. Three pinches of her thigh shows Alix, now bursting with excitement, that this potentially cataclysmic slip is as real as the shoes on her feet. Bubbling with delight, she makes the blind tag with her elder “sister”. Rebounding off the ropes, Krista ducks under Marcellus' telegraphed big boot effort. But that avoidance is the least of his worries, as the malefactor has Alix barreling into him with a springboard leg lariat! Wallace is cracked flush in the jaw by her attack! On the outside, Shyanne gulps in revulsion at the turning of the tide “LET'S GO ALIX! LET'S GO ALIX!” Urged on by her fans, Alix presses the fight against the hip hop goliath. She drags Moe into a knuckle lock, which looks to play right into his monstrous strength advantage. But crafty Alix uses her speed to keep the flow of the match in her corner. She pulls him down ever so slightly, then flips over him, breaking the knuckle lock so she can drag him down with a modified sunset flip! Screeching jeers travel through the arena, as the foxy Shyanne has Silverman distracted on the ring apron, preventing a pin from being counted. COLE Come on, somebody get her down! COACH Get her down so she can go down. On the Coach that is. Preferring to focus on the task at hand as opposed to the lackluster officiating, The SoCal diva tries to horsewhip her foot across the SoCal's thug's pug ugly face with a superkick. But rather then endure a potential broke nose in addition to the teeth she just knocked out, Marcy takes the cowards way out, diving to his corner like a running back into the endzone to tag in Vincent “Whitey” Santana. Vince, who had no expectations of being brought into the match, glares at Marcy as if he has gone completely out of his mind. Chants of “Alix” ring throughout the arena, as Vinny grimly saunters into the squared circle once again. He sprints at Alix at full speed, extending his imposing body into it's full six feet and four inches for a lethal flying shoulder tackle! Able to see the move coming miles away, Alix meets him in the sky and crooks her arm around his neck. All she does is keep her hold tight, while gravity does the work of plummeting them to the mat with a hellish implant DDT! As the fans cheer her on, the plucky diva rolls on top of the fuzzy headed gangster for a pin. CROWD 1 CROWD 2 Shyanne is back on the ring apron, again diverting Billy Silverman from his duties as an official! Letting the crowd take up the task of insulting Shyanne, Alix dashes at Santana, bounding off his knee to drive her boot towards his face with the forever en vogue Shining Wizard. However Whitey, in desperation, throws up his muscular forearms, successfully deflecting the move! Alix stutters backwards, teetering off-balance. Before her brain can formulate another mode of attack, she has to deal with a rapidly approaching leaping side kick from Whitey! She regains her bearings just in time to dodge the maneuverer. In a logic defying sequence, Alix (who is 5'7) aims a running clothesline at Santana's (who is 6'4) head, but Whitey ducks(!) bellow it. Throw your brain out the window! As Vince spins around to keep his vision on the speedy wrestler, Alix is scaling up to the top rope and comes shooting back to take him out with a fantastic cross bodyblock! Miss Spezia hooks the leg for da pin. 1 2 Shyanne has again found her way to the apron. And Billy Silverman continues to be drawn to the tempting enchantress at the expense of the job he's being paid to do. “Dude, she's not even that hot!” Alix moans, at her wits end with Silverman and Shyanne's antics. “I'll take you down Crenshaw sometime! We can drive up to Oakland and there's a whole bunch of chicks who look like that! Just count the pin! Arghh! This sucks! This sucks! I...” With a hard shove Santana rudely pushes the ranting and raving diva to the corner posts. Although caught entirely by surprise, she manages to put her left boot on the second turnbuckle, preventing a head on hit with the padded steel. Santana comes at her like a tornado with a running discus punch! Because of the telegraphed nature of the move, Alix encounters no trouble rolling underneath the twirling assault. She hops up, and takes off to the ropes before Whitey can plant his greasy mits on her. Aggravatingly, she rebounds into a tilt-a-whirl slam from Vinny! However Alix combats the move with an agile spinning head scissors, drawing a huge pop from the relieved fans! COLE That was a close call! Riddled dizzy, Santana stands upright, and catches a disturbing glimpse of Alix rolling towards him like some kind of sonic the hedgehog impersonator. Unable to predict what she's planning on doing, his only method of protection is to assume a useless defensive crouch. Alix uncoils her body, springs up, grabs the side of his head and drops knees first to the mat, pasting him with a wicked jaw breaker! Vincent timbers over with the grace and force of a chopped down redwood. Against her better judgment, Alix tries for a pin, hoping against hope that Silverman's infatuation with Shyanne has passed. 1 2 You know what happened. Shyanne+Silverman= Alix= Unable to bear the vexation, despondent Alix slinks to the corner where she makes the tag to Krista. Kris gives Al a comforting pat on the back, before waging war with the Vin man. Santana greets her rearrival with a hail marry haymaker that catches nothing but the cool arena air, due to Krissy's side step. Wrapping her arms around his knees, she drops him to the mat with a double leg takedown. Still in control of his tree trunk sized legs, Krista exerts every last effort to turn him over for a painful Boston Crab. Frustratingly, his sheer size gives her great difficulty in applying the hold. Santana kicks her off, providing himself with valuable space to rise unhindered. He follows Krista with a boot to the midsection the SCM had targeted earlier. Unwilling to be put through that miserable tribulation once more, Krista catches his foot, grins as she shakes her head, then violently pushes his shoe to the mat, knocking him off balance. Moving with great speed, she doubles the heathen over with a spinning side kick to his breadbasket, a bitter taste of his own medicine. She curves her arm around his neck, takes to the air, and whirls their bodies around like a dervish for a tornado DDT! Too engrossed in their elation, both the audience and COD fail to notice that Whitey managed to tag Vince during his merry-go-round like spin. 'LET'S GO KRISTA! LET'S GO KRISTA!” chant the crowd. COLE I don't think SCM wants to get into a wrestling match COD. Have Vincent or Marcellus even used a wrestling move all match? COACH I'd like to get in a wrestling match with COD. Man, that wasn't even funny. I'm losing my touch, guys! One-Eye's entrance into the bout catches Krista completely off guard. Consequently he meets minimal resistance as he foists her up into a press slam position. A stark sense of fear pollutes Krista's visage, as she can only imagine the type of fatal fall that inevitably awaits her. Wallace commits the error of delaying the move. This is a foolish taunt attempt that allows Alix to sneak into the ring and chop block him! Much to the fan's glee and his increasing dismay, Wallace's knee buckles under him and Krista falls onto him for a lateral press! The sequence of Shyanne diverting Silverman with her double d's wearyingly continues, generating more boos from the audience. Winds ripped from her sails, Alix barley has the energy to throw even a small temper tantrum, and simply coasts back to the apron. Wallace has recovered to a doubled over position, appearing winded from the quickened pace of the fight. Krista clasps her arm around his neck for a side headlock. Her sly hope is that he'll attempt to run her to the ring ropes, where she take to the air and can crack his neck across the cable. Like a genie in the bottle, the big man grants her wish, rumbling across the ring, preparing to utilize the significant give of the ropes to push her off. But right before he can shred her vice grip, she executes her master plan, going airborne! Her ascent drags an anxious One Eye forward, but the top cable slices his momentum, lodging itself into his throat! As the fan's pop for the innovative strike, Marcellus rockets backwards, tending to his neck, while emitting audible squeals of misery! CABOOSE That's one of the worst things that can happened to you in a wrestling ring. The ropes can be great friends, but they can make horrible enemies. “C-O-D! C-O-D! C-O-D!” The beloved heroine bolts across the ring. She bounces back towards Marcy, but as opposed to running at the floored superstar, she gracefully cartwheels at him, extending her body into body splash on her return. Acting out of despondency and a strong desire not get tongue-lashed by Ned Blanchard for losing to his old flame, Wallace sucks his knees into his chest! Krista spots the simple counter, but has no way of evading it, and all she can do is clinch up for the impact of her flat stomach hitting his rough knees. CRAAACK! Although expected, the blow inflicts considerable pain, thanks to the earlier marring of her midsection. “Come on, Krissy! You can do eeeeeet!” Alix shouts, channeling Rob Schnider's character from the Water Boy COACH Come on, Krissy! You can do, meeeeeeee! As Krista is left on the mat struggling to regain her depleted breath, Marcellus rolls to the SCM base and makes a tag to Vinny Santana. While the SCM are busy discussing strategy(what strategy two people who know two moves between them can formulate is beyond me), the former fitness model is escalating to the top rope, plotting to fling her curvaceous body across the ring with moonsault. The excited roar of the pro-COD crowd betrays Izzy's position, altering Santana to her whereabouts. He thunders to her, blasting her in the back with a forearm before Alix can yelp a warning! With his opposer placed in a susceptible spot, Santana climbs to the top, bashing her back with punches, keeping her in peril. As he entangles her within a inverted face lock, Santana flashes a smile, his gaudy platinum teeth glistening under the arena lights. Mark 12/29/2005 on your calendar, kids, for it is a spectacular moment in wrestling history! It is the day the SCM did a move you couldn't learn within fifteen minutes at the beginners class at your local wrestling school. Santana obliterates KID with an awe inspiring top rope inverted DDT! As the ring vibrates from the colossal impact, Whitey attempts what he and Marcy are sure will be a match ending pinfall... SHYANNE 1 SHYANNE 2 KICK OUT! Seeking to rally Krista, Alix flashes back to her cheerleading days in high school, “Gimme a K!” “K!” goes the crowd. “Gimme an R!” “R!” “Gimmie a...uh...y? No that's not right. Gimme a 15! No that's a number. Uh, just gimmie an ISTA!” “ISTA!” “Yay, Krissy!” shouts Alix. Encouraged by Alix's air headed but well meaning show of support, Krista summons the strength and desire to continue her rather lopsided contention with The Militia. She jumps to her feet, but Santana is on her with the speed of a cheetah and the ferocity of a mountain lion. He peppers her with an unwavering barrage of punches aimed at her toned abdomen and her face. Even as her neck snaps back like a ball bouncing off a court, Whitey's thickset legs are planting his feet into the mat, setting up for a discus punch that could shatter every bone in her face if it connected. At the last possible second she bends underneath his arm, then impressively runs up Whitey's chest to deliver a back flip heel kick to the face that collapses him to the canvas. The fans begin to loudly bleat her name, but she hasn't a second to acknowledge their adoration, as her attacker is undeterred. Santana comes straight for her head, wielding a lariat like a daunting sword. Exhibiting amazing speed, Krista back flips away from the deathly strike. CABOOSE Vincent Santana doing the right thing by bringing this match back to a brawl. Krista attempts an Irish whip. That proves maddeningly unsuccessful, as Vince's brute strength conquers her attempt, reversing her into the ropes! On the rebound, Ford tries to snap her neck with a big boot! But the savvy starlet rolls underneath it, hops up and keeps on chugging. After hitting the cables, she zips towards him, planning on turning him inside out with an enziguiri! However she doesn't even get the chance to extend her body as Santana launches her overhead with a back body drop! White hot pain cut across her bones upon impact, as heavyhearted Alix lets loose a sympathetic cry. COACH The amount of damage done on the back body drop all depends on the height of who delivered. At 6'4, Vince can get his opponents high in the air. Miserable agony ripping apart her body, Krista curls into a fetal position, in a pitiable effort to protect herself. With swimming ease, Vinny bends over and pulls her upright, lifting her into an elementary bear hug. His body feels like solid steel, lacking a single inch of give in it. As the lummox tightens his squeeze, he crushes the breath right out off her. Through the pulsating pain, and the sweat clinging her clothes to her body, Krista recognizes that she either must fight her way out of the deadly submission or risk succumbing to a chilling blackness. She frenziedly thrashes against his clutches like a damsel in distress, blonde hair flailing every which way, whipping Vinny in the face. Yet despite the spirited effort Santana's death grip refuses to disintegrate. Krista holds her arms in the air, and looks to the sky with exhausted eyes, as if she's calling on some higher power to work a miracle. CABOOSE Krista's in trouble. It's so hard to break a man that size's hold. It's even harder when you're her size. You can't deny her heart and her stubbornness. But I think it's just a matter of time before she passes out. What a win it would be for the South Central Militia. COLE They'd certainly head into the Anderson Cup with their confidence level high. But let's not count Krista out yet, Caboose. “LET'S GO KRISTA! LET'S GO KRISTA!” chant the fans, aided by Alix's pounding of the turnbuckle. Krista's given a gift from Buddha, as the substantial amount of sweat residing on her svelte frame actually causes her to slip from his embrace. But there's no light at the end of her joyless tunnel, as Whitey corrals her into a headlock. His dastardly intention is to basically choke the daylights out of her. Exhibiting some wrestling knowledge, he keeps his bulky weight on her shoulder's. Krista pops the fans, by planting stiff punches to his kidneys. She delivers enough strikes that the sheer pain eventually requires him to quit riding her shoulders. Having acquired some delicious leverage, Krista rises fully upright, feeling his clutch slowly fading. With the crowd singing her name, she exerts a monumental effort to head to the corner and free herself from her captor! It's no small task considering she has an ill tempered two hundred seventy-two pound passenger on her back, but the venerated wrestler reaches the corner and falls to her side. Santana is taken by surprise, and can't even get in arm in defense as he trips over her body and falls face first into the second turnbuckle! COACH Look at Shyanne! Look how mad she is. Come on over here, baby. Let the Coach comfort you. Right hand smacking the top rope, feet stomping the apron, Alix energetically pleads for her partner to come and tag her! The capacity crowd seconds that request, belting out a full throated rallying cry for the downed heroine. Krista slogs to her corner, moving like the ring was covered in three feet of mud. Vince slides to the SCM corner and applies a tag to One-Eye, which receives little fanfare. Wallace hustles towards Krista, understanding a tag to Alix could send his crew's hopes of winning up in multicolored flames. He latches onto Krista golden boot, as the crowd cranks their noise level up even further. Bursting through this thuggish roadblock, KID stands up and brilliantly back flips her way out of his grasp! Upon landing she makes a much needed, much requested tag, to the animated Alix Maria Spezia! The arena is shrouded in cheers from the thrilled audience! COLE Here comes Alix! Fueled by adrenaline and lots of illegal narcotics, Alix springboards into the melee! One-Eye has a lariat waiting to knock her into the Ice Age, but she stays in the '05 , slipping underneath it! The misfire clumsily totters Marcy forward, leaving his back exposed to a gorgeous dropsault from Alix! The graceful lady lands on her feet, while he suffers a blunderous throat first fall to the second cable, hollering and cussing on his way down! Given a shout of approval from the fans, Alix does a dance similar to what you might see a loaded with margaritas middle aged white woman do at Applebys when You dropped the bomb on me plays on the restaurant's speakers. Marcellus' problems continue to mount as Alix runs ropes, comes back and drives her body weight across his spine, taking a page out of her precious Lee-Lee's book with a CALL THAT BITCH BOJANGLES!!!! “LET'S GO ALIX! LET'S GO ALIX!” Out of the corner of her eye Spezia spots a worn down Santana lumbering towards her. She takes to the top rope then hurls herself at him with a lionsault press! In spite of his haggard state, he's able to catch the super popular star on his shoulder! On the outside, Shyanne directs traffic, gruffly barking at Vince to drive her into the turnbuckle post! Making his wish her command, he rumbles to the corner! The sugary brunette kicks her legs against his back as if she was a innocent lass being kidnaped by a nefarious Wild West villain. Annoying the SCM, Alix slides off Vince's back and lands solidly on her boots! Said boots dropkick him in the upper back, smashing his flabby tummy into the corner posts! “KILL WHITEY?” She asks the fans, pointing to Vinny. “KILL WHITEY! KILL WHITEY! KILL WHITEY!” chants the audience. Groggily turning around, Vinny stammers into another one of Alix's famed dropsaults! As the drop portion propels Santana to the corner, the 'sault portion careens her into an oncoming Wallace! The warriors collapse to mat, as the crowd is at a fever pitch! Although surprised to be on top of One-Eye, Alix quickly gathers her thoughts and hooks the leg, maaaaaaaan. CROWD 1 CROWD 2 What a surprise! Shyanne has retaken her spot on the apron and in Silverman's fluttering heart! “BOOOOOO!” “OH HELL NAW! BITCH, YOU DONE DID IT NOW!” Alix proclaims. Steam rolling out of of every pore in her body, a huffing and puffing Alix makes her way to the detestable harpy! As the spectators howl in anticipation for the encounter between the LA based ladies, Ally Cat swats Billy Silverman aside. Festering with rage, Shyanne tries to club Alix with her forearm! But Ally blocks the strike, then grabs Shyanne's thick black locks! Shyanne furiously fights to break free, worried that she's about to get shoved to the floor. But quirky Alix unexpectedly deals with the meddlesome valet by planting her bubblegum pink lips onto Shyanne's for a spicy kiss! Flailing her arms like a mad woman, Shyanne is downright mortified at Alix's raunchy round of tonsil hockey. Those fans, who haven't already whipped out the Johnson&Johnson and the box of Kleenex, lewdly hoot and holler their approval for the titillating lip lock! I'm out of adjectives so I'll hand it to you, Coach. COACH Uh-huh. Well, Marcellus doesn't particularly have a problem with Alix kissing Shyanne, but if she's gonna put her lips on the baddest ho in his stable, she's gotta show him the money first. Thus Marcellus, like the G that he is, keeps his pimp hand strong by speeding at Alix with another clothesline! Thanks to Krista's shouts of “Quit queerbaiting and turn around, doofus!”, Alix is able to dive out of the away! Sporting a look of abject horror, One Eye can't put the brakes on in time, and his gargantuan arm connects with his sibling, shooting her off the apron and out of this contest! COLE Oh my! COACH Hey! Marcellus, why not just the magic happen, my brother? If it's money you wanted, it's money I got! I stole it from Caboose! While the fans go absolutely nuts over the boo-boo, Marcy slowly inches away with the Steve Urkel “Did I do thaaaaat?” look on his face. His attention is soon yanked away from his wounded sister and moved to Alix, who's pulling him down for a victory roll! CROWD 1 CROWD 2 KICK OUT!! “BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT!” chants the audience, who think that was a clear three. Wallace gets to his feet quickly, hectically trying to assume the upper hand. He tosses the 200th clothesline of the match at her. Ally Cat catches his attacking arm, then bends him backwards, whamming him back first onto her knee! Rather then let him roll away to lick his smarting wounds, she crooks his left arm around her neck, and bends down so she can grab onto the inside of his left knee. With the fans wondering what he has in store, she kicks left leg back, swings their bodies backwards and drops him neck first onto the mat with the gonorrhea(I swear I didn't make that name up!)! COACH THE EMBASSY FOREVA! EH! Unfortunately Ally can't attempt the pin, as she must thwart a restored Santana, who's closing in on her with a double handed strike! The attack carries the risk of pulping her entire face if it hits! So Alix sidesteps it, making sure to hook her arm around his as she avoids it. Ally drapes her arm around his chest, then nose-dives backwards, crunching his neck with a modified side Russian leg sweep! CABOOSE That looked a lot more painful then any leg sweep I've ever taken in my career. COACH Caboose, you forgot to put the word “awful” in front of career. Despite the crowd already in a celebratory mood, One Eye hasn't quite thrown in the towel yet. He pushes up, forcing himself upright. Alix doesn't bother to try and keep him down, instead running the ropes. On the rebound she slides through the gap in his legs. After popping up, she drops him to a knee with a side kick to the stomach the exact second he turns to her face her. Moving at frighteningly fast pace, she hits the ropes once more, returning to mutilate his already ugly face with a basement running dropkick! “OOOOOH” goes the audience, as blood begins to seep out of Marcellus' nose. Ally signals to Krista that she wants a double team, and Krista is more then happy oblige! As Krista mysteriously stays on the ring apron, Alix speedily moves to the top rope. She leaves as quickly as she arrived, leaping off and landing on Krista's shoulders! For a moment it look like she might hurricanrana Kris into the ring. But Alix actually uses her partner as a launch pad, and soars her body at Marcellus with a stunning corkscrew moonsault! She connects perfectly, and the crowd screams their approval for the incredible and innovative move! Silverman counts the pin! CROWD 1 CROWD 2 CROWD 3!!! The fans leap up in excitement, as Buffer stands up to make the final announcement. BUFFER Your winners...CHICKS OVER DICKS! ”YEAAAAAAA!” As their theme music returns to the sound system, the girls exchange hugs and high fives for their hard fought victory. Silverman goes to check on his supa fine honey, Shyanne. However she angrily shoves him away, having zero use for him for now. COLE A great showing for the SCM against former tag team champions, but Chicks Over Dicks once again pads their impressive record, winning the battle of Los Angeles. It should be interesting to see how the SCM recovers in time for the Anderson Cup. CABOOSE If the match stayed a brawl the Militia obviously could've won it. But when one actual wrestling moves were thrown into the equation things were squarely in COD's favor. COACH Who cares about this wrestling crap? Did you guys see where Krista's face was on that moonsault thingie? Oh man, oh man, oh man!!! Hehehehe! ********************************************* Foshi is seen sitting down in the back. He puts down a bottle of water he was drinking from and looks as though he is preparing for a match as he tapes up his wrists. His pre-match routine is broken by someone entering. Foshi looks up at the figure who says something to him in Japanese. (Conversation in English subtitles for the fans at home) Rikjin Massamoto: Prepared for your match against Barry O tonight? I hear it's being run under 1989 rules. No pins, no submission. The only way to win is by countout or disqualification. Foshi does not answer. He looks back down at his wrists. RM: Well, no need to because I just informed management, on your behalf, that the match will not be happening. Foshi looks up in what could be considered surprise mixed with indifference. RM: With the exception of me, look at who you've been facing since your return. A bunch of guys no one cares about. A win is important, but doing something that people care about is what matters most. Foshi looks back down. RM: You may like for others to think that nothing bothers you. You let everyone think you're a cool character. You don't need to talk or make expressions. You're a laid back guy. But I know it bothers you. I know that you care. I know that it bothers you that you haven't done anything noteworthy that doesn't involve electric amplification since you had a mask on your face. I know it bothers you that everyone thinks you're a joke; you're the guy who has funny matches. At this, Foshi stands up fiercely and gets right in Rikjin's face. He stares him down for a few moments, but it quickly becomes apparent that Massamoto isn't looking to antagonize or start a fight. His expression is one of complete sincerity. Foshi looks away and puts a foot on the chair he had been sitting on to tie his boot, purely out of habit. RM: I know you're no joke because I've been in the ring with you. I know what you're capable of. I know it and you know it. No one who doesn't have a heart for being in that ring would've beaten me. Foshi switches and begins tying the other boot. Rikjin is silent for a moment. RM: Right now, you are ignoring me just the way you ignore your own potential and the way you let others ignore it. You just pass through and do whatever is given to you. You know what that'll amount to? Exactly what you're saying right now: nothing. Foshi finishes tying his boot and sits back down taking a sip of water. He seems to be half pretending that Rikjin isn't even there. RM: I'm simply letting you know the way others see you. Others who haven't been in the ring with you. I don't take lightly being defeated and I certainly don't appreciate guys who have beaten me taking themselves lightly. Passion is what makes all of this possible. Your passive attitude....your indifference leads to the greatest failure of all and will bring missed opportunity. Here(pointing to chest), you have that passion, but up here(pointing to head), you don't realize you have it. Foshi continues to alternate sipping water and staring at the floor. RM: No speech I give you is going to change anything. This is a wake-up call. I expect you to respond. With that, Rikjin leaves as he entered. Foshi glances up from the floor and looks over where Rikjin had been standing, seemingly taking it all in. He then returns his gaze at the floor and once again sips water. *FADE TO COMMERCIAL BREAK*

“LIGHTNING CREW!” Smoke fills the entryway as the opening to “No Chance In Hell” starts. After a few seconds, a lightning bolt hits the entrance, and “No Chance In Hell” by Bradley Royds starts playing while The Lightning Crew entrance video plays on the AngleTron. The crowd boos. *No chance (No chance) That’s what ya got! (Ha, Ha, Yeah) We’re up against no machine too strong (Too strong) Pussy politicians buying souls for us are…PUPPETS! (Puppets!)* The entrance doors slide open, and through the smoke come “The Corporate Champion” Tha Puerto Rican, Mr. Boricua, and Stephen Joseph Popick. The crowd boos loudly. PR looks at the crowd in disgust, jawing with some fans. Popick raises his arms out in a crucifix pose, the OAOAST World Heavyweight Championship belt around his waist. Mr. Boricua looks at the crowd with a sneer on his face. He grunts and cracks his knuckles. PRL is holding his custom made spinner 24/7 Championship belt over his left shoulder. He spins the belt plate then laughs. PR looks at Popick and Mr. Boricua, and then the three men start walking down the entrance ramp, as “No Chance In Hell” continues playing. *DING DING DING* MICHAEL BUFFER Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty-minute T.V. time limit. Introducing first, coming to the ring at this time. Accompanied to the ring by the One And Only AngleSault Thread World Heavyweight Champion, Stephen Joseph Popick. At a total combined weight of 420 lbs. The team of Mr. Boricua AND the One And Only AngleSault Thread Twenty-Four/Seven Champion, “The Corporate Champion” THA PUERTOOOOOOOOOO RICCAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNN!!! COLE We begin HeldDOWN~! with a tag team match featuring members of The Lightning Crew! Last week on HeldDOWN~!, we found out that at Anglepalooza, Tha Puerto Rican will defend the 24/7 Title against Colombian Heat. COACH Colombian Heat got what he wanted last week. Problem is, he was attacked by The Lightning Crew, and pinned by Ms. Lindsay Gonzalez before he got what he wanted. COLE Yes folks, last week on HeldDOWN~!, Colombian Heat was put into a 1-on-3 Handicap Match against PRL, Vitamin X, and Ms. Lindsay Gonzalez. The Lightning Crew had beaten Heat’s partners, John “Rock Hard” Brickston, and Spanish Fly, before the match. Heat almost had the match won, but the strength in numbers caught up with him, and he was hit with the Corporate Nightmare, followed by The Leap Of Faith, and then to finish it off, Ms. Lindsay Gonzalez, PRL’s girlfriend, pinned him. CABOOSE That was great. I tivo’ed it so I could watch it again and again and again. It never gets old! COLE Well, now we’re going to have a tag team match, between PRL, Mr. Boricua, Colombian Heat, and Spanish Fly. Hopefully, the match will be fair and square, and not another Handicap Match. Chants of “P.R. SUCKS! P.R. SUCKS!” fill the arena as PRL, Popick, and Mr. Boricua continue their walk to the ring. PRL taunts some fans. Suddenly, PRL and Stephen Joseph are knocked down! COLE Hey! What the hell? Colombian Heat and Spanish Fly have knocked down PRL and Stephen Joseph! The crowd cheers loudly. Mr. Boricua tries to attack Heat and Fly, but he gets double-teamed! COLE Colombian Heat and Spanish Fly have drawn first blood! CABOOSE What the hell? Why are they doing this? COACH This is payback for last week! Colombian Heat and Spanish Fly pummel Mr. Boricua until he’s on his knees. Then, Spanish Fly dropkicks Boricua square in the face, knocking him down! Colombian Heat poses for the fans! He then high fives Spanish Fly! CABOOSE Look at what that thug is doing! Colombian Heat is a thug! He’s a no good, untalented thug! COLE You say that like it’s an insult. Heat’s proud of that. He’s proud to be a thug. COACH When you’re a thug, you’re a thug for life! CABOOSE HE GREW UP IN THE SUBURBS! Colombian Heat and Spanish Fly double-team Tha Puerto Rican. Popick is still on the floor, as is Mr. Boricua. Heat picks up PRL and gives him a bodyslam on the entrance ramp! Colombian Heat picks Tha Puerto Rican up and drags him down to ringside. PRL is dazed, confused, and breathing hard. Heat has a smile on his face as he whips PR into the ring steps! PRL lands back first against the ring steps. Colombian Heat punches PRL in the face several times. COLE Colombian Heat is manhandling Tha Puerto Rican! CABOOSE HE SHOULD BE FINED! HE SHOULD BE ARRESTED! HE SHOULD BE INCARCERATED! COLOMBIAN HEAT HAS GONE TOO FAR! COACH You could say PRL is getting what’s coming to him! CABOOSE Oh Hell No! Heat whips PRL into the barricade, and then follows with a clothesline! Meanwhile, Spanish Fly has been beating Stephen Joseph, making sure he doesn’t go to help his client. CABOOSE HA! Popick is getting beat by a midget! Colombian Heat throws PRL into the ring. The crowd is cheering loudly. Heat kicks PRL in the face several times. Heat picks up PRL. He punches him in the face. Again. And again. Heat DANCES~! And then punches PRL in the face a fourth time, knocking him down! COLE Shake, Rattle, & Roll! Colombian Heat poses for the fans. The crowd cheers. Heat heads to the outside and climbs the turnbuckle. COLE What’s Heat going to do now? Heat points to the crowd, and then leaps off…doing a Sky Twister Press on Tha Puerto Rican! COLE Straight From Da Street! CABOOSE He grew up in the suburbs! Heat gets right back up and poses again. He taunts Tha Puerto Rican, who is knocked out from the Straight From Da Street. COACH I think Colombian Heat has just sent a message to Tha Puerto Rican! COLE I think he did. He just sent a message that said, “In 5 weeks at Anglepalooza, I will beat you and become 24/7 Champion!” CABOOSE What is he smoking that would make him think THAT? COACH I don’t know. Blunts? “Gasolina (Remix)” by Daddy Yankee featuring Lil’ Jon and Pitbull starts playing. Heat leaves the ring, a smile on his face after a job well done. COLE Colombian Heat has just gotten some retribution for the embarrassment he suffered last week. Once again, Colombian Heat has gotten the best of Tha Puerto Rican! CABOOSE He got the best of him thanks to attacking him from behind! He’s a thug! He’s a no good thug! And I can’t wait for Tha Puerto Rican to extinguish the Heat at Anglepalooza on January 29th! CH walks up the entrance ramp, but stops when he notices that PRL’s custom made spinner 24/7 Championship belt is lying on the floor. A light bulb turns on in Heat’s head. Heat grabs the spinner 24/7 Title belt and raises the belt over his head. The crowd cheers. COLE Is this a preview of what’s going to happen at Anglepalooza? Is Colombian Heat the next 24/7 Champion? Colombian Heat spins the belt plate, and then puts the belt over his right shoulder. He smiles. CABOOSE What is he doing now? Colombian Heat carries PRL’s spinner 24/7 Championship belt over his right shoulder as he walks up the entrance ramp. Spanish Fly joins him. Stephen Joseph Popick and Mr. Boricua are still on the floor. The crowd’s cheers get louder. COLE Colombian Heat is leaving with Tha Puerto Rican’s 24/7 Title belt! Colombian Heat has stolen Tha Puerto Rican’s own belt! CABOOSE That cretin! That no good, piece of trailer park trash! He’s stealing Tha Puerto Rican’s private property! That’s Tha Puerto Rican’s belt! Not his! COACH Colombian Heat can’t hear you! He’s too busy stealing Tha Puerto Rican’s belt! Caboose almost blows a blood vessel. Colombian Heat walks up the entrance ramp, putting his left arm over Spanish Fly’s shoulders, and holding “The Corporate Champion” Tha Puerto Rican’s custom made spinner 24/7 Championship belt with his right arm. Heat stands on the entrance stage and raises the belt over his head with a smile on his face. The crowd cheers. CABOOSE You’re going to pay for this, Heat! YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS! Colombian Heat and Spanish Fly leave through the entrance, Tha Puerto Rican’s 24/7 Title belt still in Heat’s possession. COLE And we’re still not done yet! HeldDOWN~! will return right after this! We’ve only just begun! “The Corporate Champion” Tha Puerto Rican is still knocked out in the ring. Stephen Joseph Popick and Mr. Boricua are just starting to get up as “Gasolina (Remix)” by Daddy Yankee featuring Lil’ Jon and Pitbull continues playing. The crowd is still cheering. (FADE OUT) *COMMERCIAL BREAK* COLE Later on tonight, it's the big 12 Man Lethal Rumble Match. And earlier tonight, behind closed doors, the random drawing took place to determine entry into the Rumble. OAOAST cameras and our very own Mene Gene Okerlund were on hand outside of the drawing room to get comments from the 12 participants just moments after they drew their numbers, with mixed results... *EARLIER TONIGHT~!* Cut to Mene Gene, outside what looks to be a broom closet. OKERLUND Okay, we're ready here outside the secret Lethal Rumble drawing room, where the team of Christian Wright and Bohemoth are apparantly just drawing their numbers right now. Gee, they've been an awful long time in there... CAMERA MAN (off screen) Uh, Gene? The camera-man obviously points out the door right next to the broom closet, where Christian Wright and Bohemoth have been standing for the past 2 minutes discussing strategy. OKERLUND Heh...I knew that Just...adding a little comedy...you know how I am. Tutti Frutti and all that. GUYS! Christian Wright and Bohemoth, can we get some comments on your draw for the Lethal Rumble Match later in the night? WRIGHT You wish to observe our entrance figures, Mister Okerlund? Well, I shall refrain from displaying your incompetence further and remind you that all numerical values drawn must remain unseen and untold. However, we shall impart upon you some comments. Myself and my fair compadré are not entirely enthraled with our chosen entrance numbers, but hark, we shalt not . Our numerical disadvantages shall be of little signification once myself and my bodyguard enter the fray. No single force or cumulative squadron can possibly match up to my associate's physical dominance! Hence forth, all ahead of us stand little chance of surviving our attempts to oust them from this Rumble of Lethal proportions! OKERLUND Uhm, yes? WRIGHT And from there, our prospective goals will be merely half fulfilled. Onwards we shall progress, showing no let-up as we converge on AnglePalooza in our quest for tag team supremacy! And Leon Rodez, have no misconceptions...I have not misplaced my recollections of your previous nefarious deeds! As yet, myself and Bohemoth have failed to deal with you as we would wish. But lo, at AnglePalooza, you shall finally suffer your fateful end Leon Rodez. You and your equally corrupt team-mate. And for the Upstart cause, we shall capture your OAOAST's Tag Team World Championship! And we will do if...FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!! ***** With a little Christmas magic, we travel forward in time to The Sooner Bruisers leaving the drawing room. OKERLUND Frank and Frankie Frankensteiner! Guys, care to comment on your chances tonight? FRANK Ya know Gene-O, our chances are lookin' real good. Me and my brother proved to the world exactly what we're made of when we ran through The South Central Militia and The New, New Midnight Express at November Reign We chewed those little punks up an' then we spat 'em out. And that's exactly what we're gonna do tonight Gene-O! Two teams or five, it don't matter. Our numbers are pretty good, but that doesn't make a big difference to us. We've worked long and hard for this opportunity and we ain't gonna let it go to waste! FRANKIE I jus' hope Cornette's boys are still out there when I get in! I can't wait to take another bite outta those two stinkin' runts! WOOF! WOOF! FRANK There ain't nobody in the Rumble who can hang with the Big Bad Re-Booty Daddy and his brother! We're goin' all the way and there ain't nothing anyone can do about it! And Gene, one more thing... The Man of Tomorrow is your upgrade... download if ya hear me!! ***** Next up, here come The New, New Midnight Express and their manager Jim Cornette. And Cornette's best poker face shows the world that he is LESS than happy with the numbers he and his boys have drawn. CORNETTE This is ridiculous! I -- I can't BELIEVE this!! OKERLUND Can I take it from that, Jim Cornette, that you're not pleased with the draw? CORNETTE This is a TRAVESTY Gene Okerlund, a damn TRAVESTY! I'm gonna get right on the phone to my high-priced lawyers and I'm going to get something done about this! I'm gonna get the finest minds in law on this! I'll get the people who managed to free Michael Jackson from a lifetime of so help me God! The OAOAST can't get away with what they've done to me and my New, New Midnight Express! This is ridiculous! Whoever hired these two...two...these two work-shy, slack jawed pathetic excuse for a human being 'security guards' in that drawing room has got some serious questions to answer! I couldn't even draw my own team's numbers for them!! OKERLUND Well, those are the rules Jim. Every man must draw his own number to prevent any controversy... CORNETTE Controversy!?! You haven't seen controversy yet! Come on guys, let's go! I've got nothing more to say to you Okerlund! OKERLUND What's that supposed to mean...HEY! And with that, Cornette shoves Okerlund aside as he and the fuming Simon Singleton and Narcissistic Ned storm off. ***** Oh, hey, look, it's the Sk8ter Boiz! SWOON~! OKERLUND Alright, here are team number 4 to draw their numbers, The Sk8... But Gene is cut off, by the bickering of the Boiz, who are both scrapping with each other to try and gain possession of one of the balls they just picked out of the tumbler. OKERLUND Gentleme...guys...GENTLEMEN, PLEASE!! The Sk8ter Boiz stop bickering...allowing Marv to sneakily swap numbers with Mel. OKERLUND A little decorum, please! You've drawn your numbers, you have to deal with what you drew! MARV We know Gene, but I think I deserve the better number... MEL And I think that I deserve the best number! I've trained THREE times this week! MARV Oh yeah! Well, I've trained FOUR times! And I had TWO of NRG's superb new Banana and Mango Injection protein shakes last night instead of one! MEL OKERLUND Gentlemen, please. How do you think you're possibly going to win tonight if you can't get along? MEL With our superior new physiques, perhaps? Gene, it wouldn't matter if we drew numbers 1 and 2. It wouldn't matter if we drew numbers -6 and -7, Gene! We're in such great physical shape thanks to our new workout regimes that we could go all night in that Lethal Rumble. We're like some sorts of ironmen. Gene, when we used to bail of our boards...man, it was brutal. I mean, dude, I once went to the hospital with a grazed knee Gene! A grazed knee! OKERLUND That's nothing to be ashamed of Mel. Why, when I was a little scamp I scratched my elbow and bawled my eyes out until my mother took me to see a doctor. MEL I was nineteen Gene. Cue awkward silence. MARV But now, since we've bulked up, our bodies are so finely tuned that it's like we've got our own personal forcefields around our abs! Small birds bounce off our triceps and die, Gene! Which would usually be a tragic thing to happen. But our new-found muscles have made us more manly too, so we no longer cry when we see roadkill in the road! We watched Bambi last night and we didn't cry when her mom died...and then, we burnt the tape so we'd never have to watch it again! We're MEN~! Gene! And now, we're finally ready to go back after the World Tag Team Titles! We no longer fear the reaper, man! The reaper fears us...possibly. He at least fears our rippling muscles and well-tanned flesh and so too will Zack Malibu and Leon Rodez when we win tonight. Because, with our cardio-vascular thingys, we're not only going to outlast 10 other men in the Lethal Rumble tonight, but we'll also have enough to outlast our 10 groupies back at the skatepark tonight! The Boiz high-five, before walking off, with Mel sneakily swapping numbers with Marv on the way. ***** Next up and it's a very smug Rick Heyross with his Team of a similiar name. Both Benjamin and Moss are looking smug too, as they stand either side of Heyross, a 6-Man Tag Team Title belt each over a shoulder. OKERLUND So...I take it the drawing went well? HEYROSS I'm not normally one to 'kiss and tell'...but, yes, Gene it went exactly as we'd hoped. Quentin and Charlie are both very pleased with their numbers. I am very pleased with their numbers. *pulls a cellphone from his inside pocket* Their co-6 Man Tag Team Champion Brock Ausstin is VERY pleased with their numbers. We are all very pleased. And that's all you need to know Okerlund. OKERLUND I see... HEYROSS Leon Rodez. Zack Malibu. We beat you in the 6 Man Tag Tournament. We would have taken those titles off of you already, if it wasn't for Alfdogg. But come AnglePalooza, there'll be no-one to save you. Alfdogg won't be coming to your rescue. Peter Knight won't be around to tag out to. Your precious little girlfriends, Candie and Alix, won't be by your sides to give you any moral support. You'll be alone, with Team Heyross. I don't care what anyone says...you are not a tag team. You are two mildly successful singles wrestlers who were thrown together and happened to get some dumb luck. Quentin Benjamin and Charlie Moss...are a TEAM! They are The Universe's Finest Tag Team! And come AnglePalooza, they will be two thirds of the 6 Man Tag Team Champions...and the OAOAST World Tag Team Champions as well! ***** And, last but not least, I wonder what Black T have to say? Well, here they come, leaving the drawing area with their numbers in hand. Gene stops them, prompting Tony to look around and wonder where the hell Jesse Ventura is. OKERLUND Black T, just out of the drawing room. We've seen the other 10 men in this match already and there have been some varying reactions, naturally...what's your reaction to your number? BLACK Stoic. OKERLUND ...okay? Any clue on what numbers you have then. BRANNIGAN That's none of your business, little man. Besides, we're not concerned either way. Whether I'm number one or number twelve, it really doesn't matter and I'm sure Dan feels the same. The luck of the draw's important, sure. But it's not as if it's a thirty place difference between top and bottom. There's nobody in this entire Lethal Rumble that worries us. I've gone twenty minutes so many times in my career and my personal life, if you catch my drift Gene, that it's no sweat if I end up in the first two. If I'm in late...even better. But whatever numbers we may or may not have, the bottom line is either me or Dan, or both, are gonna be in that ring standing tall at the end. OKERLUND And, then it would be on to Leon Rodez and Zack Mali... BLACK *laughs* There's that name again. BRANNIGAN If you wanna make yourself useful, Okerlund, why don't you search out Zack Malibu and ask HIM who he wants to win the Lethal Rumble and go to AnglePalooza. If he learnt anything from the ass-kickings we handed him last year, he'll want no part of Black T. BLACK And if he hasn't learnt...then, more fool him. Black T walk off, having given no clues to their farings in the draw and Gene none-the-wiser on who got what number in the draw either. Good job, Gene-O! *-ANOTHER- COMMERCIAL BREAK*

okay, so PK-Alf at Mania? Thats fine by me. Then Alf can win the belt and we can just go from there.

Well, I guess I'd better do a promo.

Just did a slight edit to change 'NU OAOAST Commissioner' to 'NU OAOAST General Manager'. Hope you don't mind.

PM Sent.

We don't have to restart. We can keep every little thing as planned until Mania. The bounty. The build. Hell, have Leon go over at AM V to signal a 'new era' for the company, and then drop the Civil War COMPLETELY. Leon can go on to feud with whoever he wants, and everyone can continue their angles. I've got a match for you at Mania, Zack. Just trust me on this one, if we stop it at AngleMania, everything will be fine.

Blow it off sufficiently and then let it go. This way its had a blowoff, but people can move on without having to worry about effecting it. You can still have angles that spawn from the CW, but there won't actually BE a Civil War. EDIT: At this point I'd like to thank Papa. This thread is long, LONG overdue.

its probably Pepsi Zero or something ghey like that over there. No sugar, but it still tastes good. Doesn't taste diet.

1111.8 That's enough for me, that freaking game is addictive. I got past 1000 early, but you always want more.

We're an e-fed thats in the middle of your usual 'results predetermined by computer program' efeds and the SWF. We write damn good matches and build damn good storylines, all the while cooperating about who goes over at specific times. You write good stuff and you're a nice guy, and you get recognised, and soon you'll be working with the upper card guys.

They can't change Coke. Coke fucking rules. Diet Coke is passable, Pepsi Max is great.

Exactly, which is why we need to all get on the same page again. Once the mood of the fed starts to improve, the quality of writing will improve, the quality of storylines will improve, and people will be more inclined to either come back, or join.

I agree, and its about time you posted that rather than just 'lol malibu sux0rz civil war sux0rz'. This whole 'war' thing has gone on for a few months now, and it is restricting a lot of characters' movements. I was against the idea, then for the idea, and now that the idea is happening, it just doesn't seem to be working as well as everyone thought it would. I think to fix this, we need to almost let it whither away, move on, mention it less, and start a new era. 2006 could quite possibly be the perfect time to start that era. At the moment, the shows revolve around three things: the civil war, the tag division, and the womens division. That's fine, but I think if we scrapped the war and went back to the way everything was this time last year, we'd be a whole lot better served. Look at WWE. After they did a 'war' angle - the Invasion - they had nowhere to go. Things started to suck. We need to make sure the same thing doesn't happen. Now, I'm not about to blame people and point fingers, because its not the way to handle things. But I do think we, as a group, need to sit back, look at the state of this place, and change it. Because it needs changing. NYU, I'll be the first to admit that I'm guilty of the not-leaving-feedback thing. Totally guilty. I've got no one to blame for that other than myself, and its the same for everyone else. Its good to harp on about it, becaue whether people admit it or not, nagging works. I do believe that the OAOAST can get back to late 2004/early 2005 levels again. We just need to assess our options, and do what's right for everyone. This isn't about leadership right now. This is about input. Everyone having input, and everyone getting what they want. Or at least, as many people as possible getting what they want, and the fed being in the best position possible.

Sting wouldn't agree to go on second to last. There's no chance of the Main Event being anything other than the tag match, even though it won't be the best match on the card.

Well, I don't blame Dana and co. for wanting to build Diego up something fierce, but couldn't they have fed him somoene else other than Nick Diaz? Diaz greatly impressed me in his win against Robbie Lawler back at UFC 47, and I thought he would be one of the guys that the UFC could keep around for an extended period as a contender, due to his wins in his last two UFC appearances, at 53 and 51. How much do you think the loss to Diego hurt Diaz in the long run? Being 22, he's got a hell of a future ahead of him, so I hope it doesn't hurt him too much.

I think we're past it. That is, unless Alf wins the major belt again, then they might come back again.

There's only one possible explanation: Alf won everything.

*waits like a kid at Christmas*

Wow, the walking sack of shit is back for his very last run before his contract expires next year.

That's fine, you obviously haven't seen enough of Joe to comment. But I would take Joe over Angle in a second. The guy has that nondescript factor that you only get every once in a while. He gets it. He gets how to get us eating out of the palm of his hand. And he does it very well. Oh, and I do believe that judging a guy on the way he handles his job has merit. I think the 'overall' should include the ability to be a professional wrestler. Christopher Daniels handles his job. Kurt Angle does not. Kurt Angle would be better off mentally doing something else, not to mention physically. I just think its an element of the argument that you have to look into. And don't bring Nickelback discussion into this ever. The fact remains, I basically took every single cent I had and put all my money together just to see a Christopher Daniels match live. Well, maybe not JUST to see him, but he was certainly a big fucking reason. Kurt Angle does not have that same effect on me. Daniels wins. And so does Joe.