Vasarian_Brandy

This particular kitten is probably the official bird of DOOM~!topia. Mmm... Kitten in a can.

Eh... The offense did seem pretty lop-sided at the beginning, maybe not so much at the end. But it's only an opinion. You were successful in what you were looking to accomplish for the match, and that's what counts.

So about this losing matches thread... (Smirk) I could use some commentary on how my match looked. And I'm sure that GM and I aren't the only ones that lost here... Anyone else got any morsels they'd like to share? And everyone else. GET OFF MY LAWN!

I think I'll take someone from the resident redneck, and commentify on the show, point by point. Yeah, I'm an , I know Bruce. Anyway... ----- * Pre-Show Antics: Someone's definitely got it out for Coyote revealing his lineage. A stealthy, sneaky beatdown is out of LDP's realm (he'd probably pull out of retirement for one match to beat Kevin down himself if anything)... I want to offer my conspiracy theory as the person that gave Peters the birth cert in the first place never intended for the info to go public... Blackmail or extortion of some sort. * Opening Promo: Well, well, well... Coyote always taking time out to talk to his peeps... EVEN THOUGH HE'S HOLDING UP THE WHOLE DAMN SHOW! As it is... Tsk tsk tsk... It's never good to piss off the vets, junior. (Grin) I am sure your comments will have a response made. * Griff vs. Cross: (Chuckles) Pete is obviously channeling through Hardy for this match... Yeah, that's it... As it is, the match flow seemed rushed. Maybe it's a bit of a thing with me, because I tend to break up my action sequences a little more. Things just seemed to build too quickly to a couple power moves at the end. But, maybe I recognize (or think I recognize) such things because I'm guilty too. (Shifty eyes) Another win for Cross, though, so it's all good in the hood. And Bruce, Griff's writer is doing the every-other-week thing, if I remember right. * Maddix Meltdown: Wow... I sense a little bitterness coming around. But, this is interesting insight on Landon. It'll be something to see where this goes. And King completely no-sells Hardy. It actually fits nicely with Cross' match. * DOOM~! vs. Skull: (Just laughs) I <3 Drea matches! And I feel smarter from it... Just looks at all those keen-o words! TRIUMVIRATE! GNEISS! PLENIPOTENTIARY! FOOG~! (Blades) I don't know... From this match, and the promo she wrote, I'd almost draw the conclusiong of an impending Jimmy OMGSWERVE~!... But maybe it's just all in my mind. And Heff stays around for a little longer. Always good. For Heff. * SWF '06 Action Figures: DaxxAtlantic... Hah! (Gets his credit card ready) So when are they taking pre-orders for the video game SWF Lockdown: Your Mother's A Whore, Trebek??? * Toxxic Light (Amy Stephens) vs. The I(L)L One: BTW, I mark for black pyro. At 5'10, 171, I'd think more along the lines of "Amazonian", but... The shades of Toxx come out a bit in this match... Beyond the writing style. Little touches here and there that hint at relation and info exchange. It's nice, and something I'm wondering we might see elsewhere as well. IL comes through smelling like a man that no-sold death, shaking off disgusting amounts of damage. And a reference to one Brian Levy... Hmm. Conspiracy theorists are smiling. Amy mocking IL with the clapping, then... Possibly making IL the happiest man to ever be on the wrong end of a move. Good flow to finish... And IL gets choked out by a girl. (Busts up laughing) * Frost-Brand Cigars: Now with 150% more exotic carcinogens! The Truth is out there... And the Truth is: DEATH SELLS! Now if you can sell IL on getting in on that campaign. * DOOM~!topia 101 * 90: I <3 Drea promos! * Cruiserweight, Tri-Style: That bra and panties match was quite good. But, I have to say that Zyon knows how to juggle playing with multiple angles. Pete, my 'old days' (glad I threw enough info out there to work with). The match itself seems to flow well. I don't know about you all, but I have the damndest times writing trip-threats. I always try to knock someone out of commission for short bursts to keep it one-on-one. But Zyon shows some multi-tasking skills, keeping everyone active and in the action pretty well. Two small nitpicks on my own character though - He will, more or less by nature, work the lower body / legs / ankles... It's an all-around trick he feeels works to his advantage through the weight scales. And he would not... WOULD NOT... Emulate the (cough)Legend(cough) that is the Nature Boy! (WOO!!!) "Proud, but not pompous". I'd call that strut pompous. Nice high-flying builds into busting out the mega moves near the end... Reversals... Sucks I got screwed out of 2 finishers though. The slight bit of distraction / move-break culminating in Zyon hitting his finisher for the W. Good ending to that. I approve. I see Coyote on a vendetta possibly though, wanting to follow up his proclomation at the beginning of the show. * gm2Pod: Pure. Marketing. Gold. * IL Rantfest!: Andy's mad. But if he can use his angle as a motivation to write, I'm all for it! (Marks for gorecore) Thanks for the shout, too. * Laberinto vs. "The Other King": Pete channeled for this one too. (Laugh) A good gesture from Max King seems out of place (for the moment). But then The Icon absolutely goes B-A-N-A-N-A-S with damn near wall-to-wall offense, Laberinto only getting a few glimpses (albeit flashy ones) of hope. Normally, I'm not one for a near-squash match, especially against an good upstart. However... HOWEVER... I smell a budding storyline here. I could be wrong, but there's obviously something more to this. In the end, King get the win, but Laberinto comes out on top. * THE ANNOUNCEMENT: No love for the boss... But that's alright, because the oft-ignored ones come up with some doozies... And this Lethal Lottery is THE doozy! 24 folks, randomly paired, put through a wringer of a tourney (which I'm thinking will have stips attached to the matches, just for flava), and meeting up with King and Maddix... In a TLC match! Beatings = Ratings, folks. And boy there are some wild pairings. Myers wil come out in either a Geek Squad outfit, or as Fry from Futurama. And Belancort will finally get a break! Zyon and Spike reuniting... Probably a dark-horse pair, due to tension. Skull and Von Dierch. Like Bruce said... The Third Reich. Cross and Akira... Go fig... And how in the name of Hell did I pull the only Mystery Partner??? Gah! IL / Coyote could be explosive. Amy / Bruce... I'm calling this one the very early winner. It's called 'complementing styles'. MansonDOOMity! I'll mark. * Coyote Ugly (Beatdown): Well... Maybe Kevin won't be making good on his promise to 'kick my ass' afterall... Not for a few minutes, at least. The story gets more and more intriguing. * The Diss-ness At Hand: Bruce Blank is already a walking weapon... He's just adding some features. Matt Myers... Clark Kent... Hoo'boy. But Bruce tells the world that he could give two shits in a rat's ass (in less words) about IL's challenge. This could get ugly. * GM Squared vs. B-Blank: Finally! There's a GM Theme Song! With words, even! Bruce looking no less mechanized himself tonight... I mark for the sports schtick. I mark even more for the "Football Glitch". Freaking awesome! "Purple People Imitator"... Gold. The analytical flow of the match makes me smile... A quasi first-person view from the perspective of GM. But... I just don't get GM's seeming aversion to weapons. Is it a bug or just logic-circuit strategy? Reminds me of the line from Invader Zim - "It's not stupid, it's advaaaaaaanced!" Bruce faking the knee injury? That seems a little improbable, considering all the abuse in recent weeks, but... It's played up well. We go backstage, into the auspice office of Tom Flesher... Strip Candy Land... I have to try that sometime. As it is, it figures that Bruce would use computer equipment as weapons against GM. Effectively, too, as GM hurts / shorts his / its ankle joint / servo out. Bathroom fighting is classic... Though I was expecting a swirlie. The ending seems terribly rushed... Though somewhat sensible, considering the "Deep Throat" promo. Bruce gets the 'cheap' win, and I'm sure he'll be happy with it. Belancourt is left trying to defrag, CHKDSK, and run registry repair utilities on GM. * Don't No-Show To Janus: I almost missed Ebony. Almost. As it is, it's nice to see Janus "write" something again. I'm nostalgic. * Tree vs. J-Cubed: Wow... Quite the match. Excellent banter between the three folks, and you can definitely feel the heat between ELM and Wes. I found it a bit hard to believe that ELM would go Mike Tyson on JJ, but... No DQs. Copious use of weapons and illegal blows really illustrating the near-desperation of both men. Lots of good set-ups for varied submission holds, plenty of opportunities and attempts. The ending was fitting of a heel trying to get a win... But I'm thinking this may play into a possible apology re-neg by JJ on Smarkdown. Course, lingering effects from a neck compression and a huge head hit might play into no apology on Smarkdown. Overall, the flow was good, but the length seemed short. Still... ELM retains. * Post-Show Pink Slip: Wow... Now we find out who got the Three Stooges in. Or was it? The angle gets deeper... Could that mysterious person at the beginning of the show have been Judge? Or someone that wanted to see his downfall? A new force trying to hold the SWF down? We shall see... ----- Okay, I'm done. (Laugh) I'm shutting up.

Yeah, sorry about that; Jay indicated to me that he might not be able to get something in for the show, but I can't write promos for shit, and couldn't come up with anything. In the Cruiserweight defense, I had enough trouble writing the actual match to deal with a hype promo. C'est la vie, as they say.

Welp... It felt good, at least... I didn't drill on the LDP / Coyote angle at all, because I knew it'd be already all over the show in other folks matches (and in Coyote's opener, I was sure)... Frankly didn't have much commentator interaction due to the throw-in of some first-person. But, you decide. ---------- SWF Lockdown fades back onto televisions worldwide to the huge throng of screaming masses packed into the Rose Garden. The camera pivots around to peruse the ecclectic mix of people, seeming to hail from anywhere and every... Wow! Did you see the bozooms on that one?!? Check that... Zoom in on... Oh... Yeah, right! Sea of humanity, lots and lots of signs, blah blah blah, gals with huge... ...Heaps of love for the now-in-view Ben Hardy and Suicide King! Yeah, that’s it... “Here we are, folks!” Ben Hardy starts, then... Stops. King looks over at his fill-in announce partner for a moment... “Back again in Portland, for SWF Lockdown!” King finishes, then pokes Hardy in the shoulder. “Dude, I think you’ve been doing interview segments too long.” “No, I was just trying to introduce some dramatic effect.” “In a commercial return?” King whaps Ben upside the head. “Idiot.” He turns towards the camera. “Anyway, folks... If you’re just joining us, you’re a bunch of fucktards!” “Hey! Is that anyway to treat our loyal listeners?” Hardy interrupts. “If they were loyal, they’d have been here since the beginning of the show.” “Oh... Yeah, good point.” Hardy looks into the camera with... Something resembling a look with as much menace as a baby chick. “Fucktards.” King sighs. “Anyway.” King picks back up, “Our illustrious grand poobah, Joe Peters, mentioned something about a big announcement, but nothing has materialized yet...” “But so far, we -have- had some decent matches,” Hardy interjects. “Right,” King states with a chuckle, “Decent like the grand career of someone like Cutthroat... Or Xero.” “Or Ash Ketchum,” Hardy offers cheerfully, but then shakes his head. “No no... These were good matches.” King holds up a hand. “We had Arch Griffon and Michael Cross...” “Returning veteran of some esteem and promising upstart rookie.” King smirks. “What about Jimmy the Doom and The Crimson Skull?” “Hailed war hero, fighting evil here and back home... And... Well, I just like Heff.” King rolls his eyes. “And what about Amy Stephens and Insane Luchadore... Anything redeeming about those two, Ben?” “Well, Amy is Toxxic’s younger sister, so she’s got lineage.. And... Andy Rickmen freaking beat death! How can you diss that???” King blinks, then sighs. “Fine,” King mutters sarcastically. “I guess you have an answer for all my nay-saying.” “Damn right I do.” Any continuing banter is eschewed out the door as... “I’m born...” “I’m alive...” “I BREATHE!” The crowds explodes into a rabid frenzy as The Unique Youth parts the curtains, the Cruiserweight Belt around his waist, and a sincere, but serious smile on his lips. He pauses top-side of the ramp, looking out over the audience for a moment before bolting down towards the ring, the crowd’s cheers pushing him on. “Ladies and gentlemen,” intones the ever-present “Bloomin’” Funyon, “This match is a triple threat, Cruiserweight rules match, with the Cruiserweight Championship on the line!” The crowd ratchets (or is that more of a clank?) the noise up as Zyon lands a graceful leap into the ring, head-banging as his wont. “For those at home who don’t know,” Hardy offers off-camera, “Cruiserweight rules dictate a 20 count outside of the ring, and no tosses over the top rope.” “Thanks for the info, Mister Encyclopedia,” King retorts as Funyon continues. “Introducing first, hailing from Elkhart, Indiana... He stands 5'11, 200 pounds... He is the SWF Cruiserweight champeen... He is “The Unique Youth”... He... Is... ZYYYYY-ONNNNN!!!” The plucky lad hands his belt off to the ref for eventual (and hopeful) return, and raises an arm, bringing the crowd and the roof up with another headbang. “Zyon showing quite a lot as a champion, especially at his age,” Hardy observes. “It’s called lack of competition, Ben,” King fires back, “He’ll have plenty to handle tonight in the form of...” “Never again will I be dishonored, And never again will I be reminded...” The fans start jumping the incoming superstar’s shit before he even breaks the curtain... Gotta love that. And after a few moments of nothing but cascading boos and jeers... He -still- hasn’t come out. “What’s going on here?” Hardy murmurs over a slowly-building, amused yet annoyed rumble from the crowd. “Probably introducing some dramatic effect,” King mutters. “...Riiiiight.” The crowd, meanwhile, has started up a happy little chant that they seem very enthused about: “COY-OTE-SUUUUUCKS!” *Clap clap CLAPCLAPCLAP* “COY-OTE-SUUUUUCKS!” *Clap clap CLAPCLAPCLAP* “COY-OTE-SUUUUUCKS!” *Clap clap CLAPCLAPCLAP* “How disrespectful, I swear!” King gasps. “The nerve of these people!” “Well y’know, King...” “How about you take a swig of Shut The Hell Up, Ben! This is just rude!” And the crowd only gets ruder as Kevin Coyote finally parts the drapes, met with an absolute cacophony of hate and malice... But he doesn’t give a shit, because he’s talking to the phone that’s surgically attached to his ear! Oh, wait... No, it’s not. He proves it by bringing it down long enough to flick off the front row. Nice guy. The crowd responds in kind, 20 times louder. Ahh, the love... “Introducing next,” Funyon belts out over the crowd (barely), “From Brunswick, Georgia... He is 5'11, 225 pounds... He is... Kevin... COYYYYY-OOOOO-TE!!!” The crowd proves that there is indeed a setting of “11" on their anti-enthusiasm for Coyote. As he steps by one of the ring-side microphones, we hear: “Yeah, babydoll... After the match, yeah. Oh, you know it, baby...” And then he’s out of range. He hangs up the phone, sets it on the timekeeper table, and climbs into the ring, greeting The Unique Youth with a stare and a sneer. Zyon, to his credit, just meets the stare, very calmly. There’s a nervous energy in the crowd, as if something might happen before the third participant shows. “The tension’s so thick, King, you could cut it with a knife!” “Will the knife gouge out your voice box too?” “...What’d I say?” With that, the lights dim. The 2 combatants turn towards the entrance, and the crowd dies down to a very dull roar. The speakers get the pleasure of having Fergie and her boys from the Black Eyed Peas piped through them as “Anxiety” rocks the arena. Well,” rocks” is probably too strong of a word, considering that would imply something more than the lukewarm crowd response currently being experienced. As it is, the music plays on, not caring about the crowd, and out from the back pops one Christian Fury. The crowd... Well, there’s a good amount of cheering, but not overly much... Nowhere near Zyon’s response. Fury doesn’t seem to mind overly much as he stalks down the ramp with the kendo stick over his shoulder. Zyon backs off slightly noting the weapon inbound... Coyote just seems to crack a smile. “And introducing finally,” Funyon starts, then stops, realizing he’s screaming over a relatively dormant crowd... He drops his volume a bit as he continues. “Hailing from Cleveland, Ohio... Standing 6'3, weighing 222 pounds... He is... Christian... FUUUUU-RYYYYY!!!”Again, the faint response from the crowd as Fury drops the kendo stick ringside, and slides into the squared circle, eyeing his opponents. “By the way, Ben,” King states, “I saw your interview.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah. I don’t understand what he found wrong with your questioning.” “Well, those were questions I needed to ask.” “Oh no, I agree... I mean, after all, he was much better when...” ********** Ding ding DING! As the bell rings, I hear the crowd ignite behind me. The two men that I’d been observing in the ring with me seem to have momentarily gotten together in a common goal. Unfortunately, that common goal seems to be outing me from immediate competition. The one known as Zyon, I can already tell, is lightning quick, and on me before I have a chance to breathe. Meanwhile, Kevin Coyote seems to be stalking the outer periphery, like his namesake... Looking for an opening. Advancing in, Zyon throws a swift right forearm... I catch it, twisting his arm around using his momentum, and... SLAP! ...briefly put him to the mat, much to the dismay of the fans in attendance. To my semi-surprise, he kips up, reversing the twist, and managing to add one of his own. I slap my arm as I feel a bit of a searing in it, trying to reverse it myself... But... Suddenly Coyote lets his presence be known as he levels the concentrating Youth with a clothesline. The crowd shows their displeasure as Zyon stumbles to the mat, yanking me off-balance with him... And Coyote takes advantage by introducing my head to his knee as I’m trying to regain my balance. My arm released, I find myself stumbling back a slight bit as Coyote presses his offense... Grabbing me by the arm, slinging me into the ropes. He catches me on the rebound, trying to toss me... But I manage to get my weight down to a solid base, and reverse the favor... SMACK!!! ...putting him on his back. A minor response from the crowd ensues. Gee, thanks. Before I can take advantage, though, a set of arms wraps around my waist... Zyon. The little bugger’s damn quick. I feel him trying to power me up, but my base is still solid... His arms are cinched in... I lean back to try to use my arms to try to break him off of me... But apparently that’s what he was waiting as he manages to get me out of my solid base, and hauls... Me... Up... SLAM!!! The crowd response is fiery as he keeps his hold cinched in on my waist... The scurry of the ref... ONE! The ref’s hand hits the canvas with a slap... But the second never comes... As I’m rolling my shoulders to break away, the bridge suddenly collapses. I roll slightly to see Coyote trying to put a boot down where the rolling Zyon’s rib cage was. That explains the break in the hold as Zyon comes to his feet, rubbing his side. I make it to my feet as well as Coyote and Zyon lock up in a test of strength... It looks damn even for a second or two until Coyote manages to free an arm, getting Zyon off-balance again, and throwing a loaded elbow smash to the Youth’s temple. My turn now, bitches. I charge in to impose my will on the unaware Coyote... Only to find that he’s not-so-unaware. But I’m already committed, so I lower the shoulder, plant for a little more speed, and hope for the best... WHAM!!! ...and I get it as I manage to mostly catch Coyote and put him to the mat. I stop my momentum and recover myself only to hear the crowd pick up in its exuberance... The slap of a hand on the canvas... I look back to find Zyon trying to take advantage of -my- work as he’s got Coyote’s leg hooked. I move in, but Coyote kicks out quickly enough, leaving Zyon rolling away. This will not do at all. I rumble over to where Zyon is regaining his feet, help him to his feet... Only to plant him back down to the mat with a heavy short-line clothesline. And boy the fans don’t like that. Oh well. I lift him back up and sling him towards the ropes... I give a little spin, and throw a kick towards the oncoming Youth’s head... The fans raise a hellacious cheer... As Zyon slides right underneath my outstretched leg! I let the momentum keep me spinning to try to catch him on the other side, but... Coyote stops my motion with a quick grab of the arm, then reverses it, spinning me back around... My mind’s swimming a little, but I can feel him grabbing my head... The fog clears as I feel myself dropping... WHAM!!! ...to the mat, a shock of pain shooting through my neck. Not at all pleasant, and the crowd voices my feelings on the whole matter. Coyote comes to hook the leg... ONE! But barely that as Zyon makes Coyote suffer a bout of Pinnus Interruptus with a dropped fist to the back of the head. I roll away as Coyote stands, holding the back of his head... And the crowd rises up once more as Zyon lands a smooth-looking front dropkick to the unbalanced Coyote’s chest... WHAM!!! ...felling him to the mat. And The Unique Youth follows that quick and dirty move with yet another kip-up! Okay, that’s just disgusting, you know? Finally to my own feet, Zyon approaches me with a forearm to the chest, driving me back towards the corner. I try to recover, but my wheels are still a little tingly from that Coyote neckbreaker. Zyon throws another forearm into me... And another... And yet another! And the crowd is eating this up like it was Pixie Sticks. Or Frost-Brand Whale Tacos. As it is, the Youth has managed to plant me in the corner with continued forearms, and frankly... My chest is starting to hurt. It’s a little hard to get a full breath with as quick as he’s hitting these shots. Suddenly, he stops. I watch as he grabs the top ropes on either side of me, lifting himself up... This could be all sorts of bad. I force myself up and out of the corner, and he releases off the ropes, seeing his move will be countered... But I’m already on him, lacing a quick kick to his mid-section while he’s off balance. He falls flat back to the mat, and I advance in. I realize that I have to get back to my usual game plan, or this guy’s speed will be my undoing. As he rolls to find his feet, I reach down, grabbing Zyon’s foot in a quick ankle lock. Then scissoring his leg, I drop to the mat hard. I’m rewarded with a loud grunt of pain and a whole arena of people giving me no end of anti-love. I’m very concentrated on this task of slowing this speedster down as I wrench the ankle a little more... Suddenly I’m told how totally concentrated I am at a meeting of Coyote’s thigh with the side of my head at a speed that could only be created from a second rope drop. My world goes quite whirly and bubbly as my body releases the hold on Zyon’s leg, having received some sort of scrambled instruction from an addled brain to do so... And suddenly, I remember why I hated wrestling triple threats so much... ********** The crowd exhales in relief as Fury’s hold on The Unique Youth’s ankle is released... They never thought they’d be thanking Kevin Coyote for anything, but here they are. The aforementioned Coyote hauls the aforementioned Fury up by the hair. He slings Fury into the corner, and follows suit as Zyon clamors to his feet. “Looks like Fury might have had the right idea there,” muses Hardy as Zyon tries to walk off a small limp... Could be a stinger, could be damage... We can’t tell right now. “All Fury did is forget about the major player in this match,” King responds. And indeed, Coyote is unloading cornered elbow shots. The crowd could care less about all that it seems as their murmured concerns are for the current Cruiserweight Champion. The minor limp he has is still there as he approaches Coyote, backing off from Fury in the corner. The crowd’s sudden cheering looks to put Coyote on edge as he turns, meeting a smiling Zyon... And with a swiftness that seems to belie description, Zyon takes the fellow cruiserweight up in a scoop slam... Then doing a graceful spin, sets Coyote up for a sit-out piledriver... WHAM!!!! The crowd goes B-A-N-A-N-A-S! (Because, after all, this shit -is- bananas...) “Holy Hell-In-A-Handbasket!” Hardy burbles. “Zyon with the Aero Driver!” “It’s not enough, too soon, Ben!” “We’ll see about that, King!” As Zyon hooks Coyote’s legs... ONE! TWO!! But indeed, Coyote powers the shoulder out after the second count. Zyon doesn’t seem to mind as the crowd continues to pump him up. He hauls Coyote up, and launches him into the corner... SLAM-AP!!! The same corner that just happened to contain the formerly-recovering Fury! The crowd applauds Zyon’s ingenuity and resourcefulness as he advances into the corner... But still with that light limp. “Zyon just killed two bir...” “Don’t... Even say it, Ben... You’re just as bad as Pete if you do...” Zyon rushes into the corner, again grabbing the top ropes, much faster this time, trying to pull off his elevated basement dropkick, this time successfully... However, the result is actually worse this time as Coyote launches out of the corner, catching the helpless Youth in ‘mid-air’! Both tumble in a heap... WHU-WHAM!!! ...to the mat as we find... “Fury broke up the attack blindly!” Hardy shouts as Fury slowly comes out of the corner... But suddenly... ONE! TW... And we find that in their tangled mess, Coyote managed to get Zyon’s shoulders to the mat... But no more as Zyon pushes Coyote to the side. “And Fury almost gave Coyote the means to win,” King retorts. “First thing he’s done almost right all match.” Coyote is to his feet, the Youth shortly behind, but Fury advances on the closer of the two... Suddenly the somewhat unawares Zyon is the victim of a quick and hard Russian legsweep! The crowd is all over Fury as he presses onward, leaving the Youth momentarily to take care of the advancing Coyote... SLAP!!! ...who levels a shot against Fury’s chest, stopping him short... But he doesn’t stop his mind set as... SLAP!!! ...Fury gives one right back! SLAP!!! Coyote takes exception... SLAP!!! ...but Fury says, “You’ll take it, and like it!”... Just not in words... SLAP!!! ...and Coyote says, “Fuck off, yo!”... SLAP!!! WHAM!!! ...and Coyote then ends the conversation with a tilde-bang in the form of a follow-up clothesline off of Fury’s chop. The crowd isn’t liking this at all... “King, wake up!” “Oh... Uh... Wha? Are they done slapping at each other, the pansies?” Coyote drops down, leveling stiff gut punches to the prone Fury, allowing him no quarter at all... But suddenly... The crowd erupts as The Unique, Yet Nearly Forgotten, Youth pulls Coyote off Fury with a spin... Slaps on the facelock... Lifts... And... WHAM!!! The crowds has baby monkeys as Zyon completes the... “Snap Brain-BUSTAAA...” Hardy tries to call... “IIIII can’t believe you’d do that, Ben!” King follows right on his heels, as Zyon comes around to a good spot and hooks the leg. “Do what?” ONE! “Pull that Long-DOGGAAAAAH shit.” TWO!! “You mean... Like you just did?” The ref shows Zyon a two-count as Coyote runs the shoulder up. “...Ah, crap.” King’s realization comes on the heels of the Youth’s slow climb to the top turnbuckle. The crowd urges him on as he looks over the ring... He sees the more-or-less prone form of Coyote... But he sees a more distinct threat. That of the risen and approaching Chris Fury. Zyon makes a split-second decision, once again throwing caution to the wind... After all, why save up for tomorrow what you can today... Especially when you don’t know how many tomorrows you have left. But just as he jumps, he sees something that makes him think that his day might get real good, real quick... WHA-BAM!!! The crowd is off the charts as Zyon’s missile dropkick manages to knockdown both Fury -and- the poor soul known as Coyote, who had stood up and tried to engage on the offensive against Fury, unawares that a Cruise-R-Weight missile was incoming on his 6 o’clock! All three men wind up in a pile in the middle of the ring, tangled heap, all that... “Again Zyon manages to bring both of his opponents down!” Hardy gushes. “Yippie,” is the best response King can muster up as Zyon rises slowly to his feet to the joy of the crowd... His legs look a little wobbly, probably due to the fact he was dealt the impact of -two- human bodies under his feet. Coyote took the brunt of the punishment from initial impact, as he’s lying on the ground, holding his head in his hands and not much else... But then we see Fury slowly rising from ground level, seeing Coyote and probably realizing how lucky he really was... ********** Wow... I was -extremely- lucky. I saw Zyon climbing, and I knew that I was in big trouble... But Kevin Coyote, bless his heart, tried to beat my ass right in the nick of time! I am a little rattled, don’t get me wrong... But I’m nowhere near in the head-ringing shape that Coyote is. But I have to take advantage... Or not, as Zyon decides to back me off (and collapse my chest at the same time) with another of his front dropkicks, complete with the kip-up... But as I’m falling back to the mat, I notice he’s still limping... Ginger on that ankle I had before... WHAM!!! Suddenly it dawns on me what I really needed to do to take this guy out. Something I remembered seeing in tapes. But I have to do it decisively and quick, or Coyote would be in the way once again. Of course, being flat on my back and having Zyon hovering over me was all part of the plan. Really. He hauls me to my feet, then slings me into the ropes... I rebound, and he tries to grab me... I recognize what he’s trying to do... Tilt-a-whirl into... Something... Don’t really care... I let him work me into the start of the ‘whirl, then throw my weight away from him with a little twist. His grip is bothered, and he can’t complete the move as I fall out of his grasp... ...Managing to land on my feet, albeit unsteadily. Zyon looks quite surprised at this turn of events, and that’s just what I want. I grab him by the arm, and pull him hard into my free arm, laying him out... WHAM!!! ...with a short-arm clothesline. Ignoring the boos and jeers of the crowd, I’m back on him, flipping him over hurriedly... Bending his legs at the knees, crossing them, my foot in the middle... Facing away, standing... I can hear the crowd... They know what’s coming. I wonder if Zyon does. I flip back suddenly, locking my arms around his chin, and pull. Hard. By the pained groans from Zyon and the fans, I’ve done my homework right. I arch myself a little further, working the Youth’s upper body back more, putting that pressure on the neck... But more importantly, the back that I knew was injured... This move is perfect for this purpose, and I cinch it in a little harder... But once again... WHUMP-WHAM!!! ...Kevin Coyote comes falling out of the sky to ruin my best-laid plans. This time, though, I have no defense in my positioning as he slams into me with a freaking Hurricanrana! The pain that shoots though me is intense, the air rushing out. But I’m sure Zyon, being under both of us, faired a lot worse. Coyote is slow to get up, but he finally does, and I’m still sucking wind as I roll off Zyon... I’m wondering where the next attack is coming from when... ONE! The slap of the ref’s hand brings me back to some semblance of reality as I roll back... TWO!! I see Coyote trying to grab the win, so I reach out and grab him, pulling with all my might... And it does break the count. Coyote isn’t happy. The fans are though. I try and get to all fours, working towards getting my feet about me, but Coyote has other ideas as he gives me a swift kick to my side. Well, that ended the getting-up idea. ********** Apparently satisfied with the beatdown he’s given Fury, Coyote reaches down and drags the hurting Zyon to his feet, and launches him into the corner. The Unique Youth impacts... WHAM!!! ...the turnbuckles with massive force, and just sags there. The crowd novas, raining radioactive heat down on Coyote. “Kevin Coyote taking control!” King croons. “He’s taken Fury out of the picture, and now he’s looking to finish the Spoiled Youth for the title!” “Unique Youth, King.” “Shove it, Hardy.” Kevin Coyote, quite pleased with himself, kicks Fury again as he gets up, seemingly waiting for something... He kicks Fury, then eyes the corner where Zyon is... Kicks Fury, looks in the corner... Kicks Fury, then... Zyon is moving... The fans explode with delight. Coyote grins. Apparently the opportunity he was waiting for is at hand as Zyon stumbles slowly from the corner... Coyote stalks him, keeping clear of the Youth’s view... Then... Coyote taps him on the shoulder. The crowd is none-too-thrilled. “Here it comes!” King cries. Zyon stops, and starts to turn... But Coyote helps him the rest of the way, following up with a completely explosive clothesline! WHAM!!!!! Zyon hits the mat like a load of dead parrots as Kevin Coyote styles for the booing, hissing fans. “Coyote Takedown!” King gushes. “This one is over! OVAH! Ugh...” “Not quite, King!” The reasoning behind this statement isn’t clear... But the crowd senses... Sees something. Something that brings their reactions around... Coyote seems to read the crowd, and starts to turn to see what is going on... WHA-SLAM!!!!! “HOLY WHAT THE...???” Even the crowd gasps in awed amazement... Out of nowhere comes a Mack Truck, blowing right into Coyote! But it’s name is not Mack... It’s Chris Fury, and he just went Hell-bent and full-bore into Coyote with a desperation Spear! Coyote flails back... SLAM!!! ...hitting the mat extremely hard before tumbling between the bottom and middle ropes to... WHUMPHWHAM!!! ...unceremoniously impact the floor below... He finally comes to rest against the steel crowd barricade. “UNBELIEVABLE!” screams Hardy. “Fury from out of NOWHERE with that Spear, but Fury took one Hell of a shock it seems!” “Nooooo!” laments King. Kevin Coyote lies motionless on the outside of the ring, completely out of commission from his meeting with the floor. Meanwhile, back in the ring, Fury still hasn’t gotten up from a completely massive impact... The Spear seems to have done as much damage to him as it did to Coyote. Suddenly, the crowd goes all Mount Saint Helens. “All he needed was time, King!” “NOOOOO!” King’s reason for panic is clear: Zyon is finally standing! He looks absolutely groggy from the Coyote Takedown he suffered moments earlier, but he’s standing! “He should’ve been done... Or dead... Or both!” King cries in anguish. But the Unique Yoth is none of those... That’s why he’s Unique. And he’s on the offensive... He hauls Fury up by the hair, getting him standing... Then pauses as the fans chant and cheer his name... “What’s he doing?” Hardy muses. “Continuing to be a fool!” Sensing the finish at hand, and maybe without full mental facilities in place, Zyon puts a plan in motion... He quickly springboards onto the ropes, facing the crowd, and twists through the air like... Something... Really graceful... “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” Hardy calls to the home crowd... Zyon, determined to keep his title reign alive, and to give the fans the best he’s got, is trying to hit the Blitzkrieg Spike... But there’s just one very small, yet very potent problem... And the fans deflate before it even happens, because they see it... Fury, somehow with some sort of wits about him, throws a hard, stiff forearm into the flyer’s mid-section. It’s not too terribly effective against a falling human being, but it’s just enough to screw the Unique Youth’s momentum and trajectory. Zyon plows uncontrolled into Fury, sending both men... WHUH-WHAM!!! ...hard to the mat. “MY GOD!” Hardy belts out. “A simple but devastating defense from Fury spoils the Youth’s flight into victory!” “Ha HAH!” King gloats, somewhat. “Risk takers never win!” Both men are stunned and not doing much besides rolling faintly in their spots... Meanwhile, the crowd sees something that drops their enthusiasm by several notches. “And all that was needed was time!” King mercilessly mimics Hardy as... Kevin Coyote is finally rising to his feet outside. He looks completely out of sorts, but somehow slowly works his way under the ropes. “This could be horridly bad for Zyon and Fury,” Hardy says in a hushed tone. “No no no,” King says with an audible grin. “This is PERFECT. The road is clear for Kevin!” Coyote slowly stand against the ring ropes, and sees both men down. He could so easily pin one of them. So easily. But he wants more than that... He wants to deal with the reason he’s so groggily wandering around, when he should be standing tall and proud. And that reason is now at his feet. Fury. He hauls Fury to his feet, wrenching his arm around, getting him to his right side... He’s looking for the big finish here... “Go, Coyote, go!” King calls out as Kevin’s only fan in the place as he lets go of Fury’s arm, and lances back with his arms to lock around Fury’s head to start the flashy and powerful RKO... But Fury’s not there... At least his head’s not. Instead, Coyote find his arm grabs, and his world spinning... Only half-spun though as Fury stops him with a kick to the solar plexus. Coyote finds himself doubled over and at the mercy of Fury as he’s wrapped in a fancy-looking headlock, Coyote’s chin precariously over Fury’s shoulder... Fury drops to a knee, rocking Coyote’s head as his jaw impacts hard, unforgiving shoulder... But the fun’s not over as the headlock’s still cinched... Fury stands, then takes two quick steps to the side before sitting out... WHAM!!!! ...and completely knocking reality loose from Coyote as his head re-impacts Fury’s shoulder, and he drops back limply to the mat. “HOLY SHIT!” Hardy blurts. “The Lightning And Thunder has returned, in a new and devastating form!” “Damnit no!” King shouts right after. The crowd... The crowd is going wild... To see Coyote go down like a house of bricks pleases them to no end... But there’s something else... Zyon... He’s starting to come back to earth... Fury sees this, the adrenaline finally flowing... He hauls the Unique Youth up... And doubles him over with a lick to the mid-section! The fans go completely 180. “Fury’s going to get this!” Hardy rails over the crowd, his emotions tossed... Fury plants Zyon with the mini-Stunner, then the two quick steps, and the sit-out Stunner... WHAM!!!! ...and Zyon’s momentum is evaporated... The crowd is livid and screaming for their boy to make a comeback as Fury hooks the leg... ONE! The fans raise in volume, trying to will their boy on... TWO!! The fans come out of their seats, pleading to the wrestling deities to bring them a miracle! The ref’s hand swings down one more time... ... ... ... ... Three. Ladies and gentlemen, your Gods have abandoned you. Ding ding DING! Funyon gets on his mic as the ref retrieves the belt... Handing it to Fury. “Ladies and gentlemen... The winner of the match... And... NEWWWWW... Cruiserweight Champion... He is... Christian... FUUUUU-RYYYYY!!!” The crowd rains Hell down upon the new strap-holder after abusing their man, but Fury pays it no mind... He holds the belt up high, a smile on his weary lips. “No!” King shouts. “He stole it from Coyote! He’s nowhere in the same league as Kevin!” “No, King,” Hardy says with the barest hint of respect. “Fury did what he needed to. And he proved something in the process. We’ll be back, folks.” The show fades to commercial with the camera square on Fury’s victorious smile...

Ahh, rock on then. Sign me up when you get back started. Anyway, back on topic... So, are you coming back to us yet?

Yeah, that's what I was thinking myself... I'm probably going to make the switch after this show. And dude... This particular Clan stuff is back from the IGNML days... Like... 4 years ago.

Slutbomb! Tell me your secrets... I have OOTP 6.5. And... Oooooh, do I detect a possible return?

"...And my son... Tater Tot..."

Well... I don't think I'm quite 'washed-up' yet... (Chuckles) At least I hope not.

Judge: Yeah, barring any sort of circumstances "beyond my control" (read as: Swerve!), James will be an on-going confidant. And if this losing streak somehow keeps going, he may become more involved. Toxx: (Laughs) "Remember The Name" by Fort Minor. Somehow, I think it more appropriate. Not sure.

Welcome to my standard match-writing style, Bruce. First-person perspective FTW~! And yes, detailed analyses are always good... Keep it up!

With the SWF caravan traveling northbound from San Fran to Portland, I took the opportunity to travel back up to Washington to visit some old friends. My not-so-hot restart into wrestling, combined with a less-than-stellar interview segment on AftershoX, had my mind ill at ease. I should’ve known that Hardy’s line of questioning would go in the direction it did, but... It still shocked me. What he was implying and suggesting was... Frankly, it was too ridiculous, too insulting to even fathom. But... What if he was right? I shook the thought from my head as I glanced at the in-dash guidance system. A left up here, and... There it was. A small Tacoma gym that served as a second home for me for a few months way back when. The guy that ran the place was still a friend of mine, and someone I shared a lot with after I lost... Lara. Christ... I knew that coming back to the SWF was going to re-open old wounds, but... This was a lot all at once. I’m glad my friend agreed to see me. I parked my S2000, and stepped out. As is the norm in Washington, it was raining. I let it beat down on me for a few moments... It helped clear my thoughts a little bit. I walked though the door, and was greeted with the sounds of training... The grunts, slaps, footfalls on the mats, bodies off the ropes... “For Pete’s sake! What do ya think you’re doin’?!?!” I found myself grinning at the voice. The most unmistakable part of a training session at this gym. I walked into the low-lit training area, and found James hard at work, chewing out one of his projects. “Ya gotta watch th’ throws!” he was growling at a young man in the ring, who looked no more than 16. “If you’re nay careful, you’ll snap the guy’s neck!” “James,” I responded, “You better watch it, old man... Young impressionable kid like that, you might give him ideas.” James turned, and his grizzled expression softened into a sincere smile. “Chris, ya little shit!” He walked over to me, shook my hand, and then wrapped me in a bear hug that was steely strong for someone of his 55 years. “Ya shoulda called me before ya got here. I woulda had some space set aside for us t’ spar a bit!” I grinned like a fool. “You know you couldn’t beat me even at half your age, old man.” We shared a laugh, then he turned to his gawking protege. “What? Ya ain’t never seen a pro before? Hit th’ showers, kiddo! We’ll finish this after breakfast!” “Yessir, Mister McPatrick!” The fresh-faced kid slipped under the ropes, grinning madly at me before taking off to the locker room area. James looked at me and motioned to his office. “Y’know I always have th’ time for an ol’ friend, Chris. C’mon in.” I chuckled as we walked into the sparse office. “How do you know I’m not just here for an ass-kicking before the next show?” He laughed. “Nay, Chris... I dunna think ya need your ass kicked anymore than ya have recent.” He reached into the fridge, pulling out 2 bottles of Starbucks... Mocha Frapps, to be exact. I popped the top on mine as he looked me over, like the teacher he is and the student I once was. “I know ya aren’t just here on a social visit, Chris. I’ve been watchin’ ya.” I shook my head. Should’ve known he’d be following me. “Of course you know that,” I tried to counter with a weak smile. “I told you I needed to talk.” “I knew that beforehand,” he said with a rueful smile. “I saw how ya started out... How that Clusterfuck went... How that interview went last night.” Damn him for being so observant. “It hasn’t been easy on ya, has it?” He can't be serious... “No, frankly it hasn’t!” I realized I had snapped the instant I finished, but James held up a hand. “Nay, you’re right. It hasn’t been easy. But comin’ back t’ somethin’ ya haven’t done in a while never is.” He sighed, then shook his head at me, very fatherly-like. “Unfortunately, m’lad... Th’ past is something ya have t’ live with...” He poked me in the chest. “It’s part of what makes ya ‘you’...” “Even the bad parts, huh? “Aye, even th’ bad.” I sighed. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but... In a way it was. “Listen, lad... Th’ lass Lara... She taught ya how t’ live... How t’ love. Right?” I could feel my heart wrenching as he spoke. “Yeah.” “And th’ Clan... They tried t’ use that all as a weakness. Took it away t’ harden ya, give ya your focus.” “Focus my...” James looked at me for a moment, then said something that rocked me like a kick to the jaw. “Ya did start t’ win titles after they got ya... Didn’t ya?” If it had been anyone else, I would’ve taken their head off right then and there. But I knew this particular old man would still be ticking if I did. I felt my hands digging into the arms of the chair. “You’re starting to sound like Ben Hardy, James.” I started to stand, but James lanced me with a steely grey gaze. “Sit th’ fuck down, Christian. I’m nay done with ya yet.” The force behind his words made me pause. The only times he used this particular tone of voice were when he was trying to get a vital point across. He used it when the student wasn’t listening. I sat back down, begrudgingly, to hear him out. “Now...” He sat back in his chair. “I know ya, Chris. Ya still feel for Lara. Ya never lost that. Am I strayin’ too far from th’ truth, lad?” “No.” “All th’ Clan did was bury it in a mountain of shite and torture-induced brainwashin’. After ya got away, who was there t’ take ya back?” A long pause. “Lara was.” “Aye... She was. Faithful til th’ day th’ Good Lord above brought her t’ be his angel.” My hands shook as I stayed quiet. I could feel James’ demeanor soften. He knew I was listening now. “Lad... Ya always had th’ drive, th’ ambition. Even without th’ Clan’s intervention... Ya know ya were startin’ t’ bring it around.” He chuckled softly. “I saw it with my own two eyes...” I couldn’t help but crack my lips up slightly. “And I know that you’ve heard th’ fans behind ya since ya came back. Ya can’t ignore them forever. It’s nay like ya.” I shook my head. “They’re not why I’m back, James. I came back to prove myself.” “And why can’t they be a part o’ that?” He leaned forward, steepling his hands on the desk. “Chris, your greatest weapon is th’ love for th’ sport... Th’ respect ya have for everything that it is. Th’ fans are a part o’ that.” He leaned to poke at me again, over the heart. “Ya have th’ drive, th’ ambition still. Th’ body may be rusty, but th’ mind has never lost th’ ability.” He grinned “Ya also don’t need a bunch o’ sunglass-wearin’, dark-coated, fancy-speakin’ sons o’ bitches to give ya your focus. You’ve always had it. Still do now.” I found my lips curled up into a smile. “Yeah... Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He grunted. “Suppose nothin’. I know I’m right.” I laughed, and he looked at me, that steely serious gaze again. “Question is, lad... Do ya know it yourself?” I looked at him in thought. The Clan had given me focus and drive... Or, rather, they just exposed what was always there. I knew that. Their hold on me and usefulness to me was no more. Lara gave me belief in the better things in life. But she was always with me... Even now. The fans still believed. They backed me in this. I looked up at James again. I still had my friends. Nothing had changed. “Yes... I know it now.” James cracked a grin. “Ya shoulda known it before... Maybe ya would be on a winnin’ streak.” I chuckled. “Always the bottom line with you, isn’t it?” “Aye. Ya know me too well.” I leaned back in the chair, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, James... This... This is what I needed.” “Dinna mention it, lad. Ya know I’m here for ya. Always have been.” I smiled and started to stand, but James held up a hand. “Might I ask ya a favor though?” I raised an eyebrow, and nodded. “Since ya want t’ include th’ crowd a wee bit more, ya may want to tweak your entrance... Just a wee bit. Play t’ th’ crowd some.” I popped both eyebrows up in mock surprise. “You want me to be cocky and showboat?” He scoffed, a grin parting his lips. “I want ya t’ show your appreciation t’ them for stickin’ with ya.” I nodded. “Fair enough.” “And...” I blinked, eyeing him as he pulled out an iPod with earbuds. “While I like th’ tastes of music ya have,” he started, pushing some buttons on the tiny player. “I have somethin’ ya may want t’ use.” I rolled my eyes as he handed me the device. James’ tastes in music were much more... Classical... Mellow... Gae... lic. “Dinna be rollin’ your eye at me, lad. Just listen.” I nodded, and put the earbuds on... I figured I’d at least humor him. But when I pushed Play, and listened to what he had for me... I went wide-eyed with surprise. I hit Stop, and looked at his grinning face. “I told ya so, lad.” “Where did you come up with that???” He waved a hand dismissively. “Th’ young lads and lasses that come through th’ doors... All different tastes in music.” He chuckled. “I’m nay as stodgy and set in my ways as ya and th’ others may think.” He winked, and I had no choice but to laugh. “Alright... I’ll think about it. If I go with it, it won’t be until the show after this one.” “Fair enough,” James parroted with a grin. “Now off with ya. Ya need t’ get some practice in, or else that rusty ass o’ yours will never get anywhere.” He shooed me out the main door with a laugh, but stopped and hugged me close. “Fair winds be at your back, lad... And thanks for visitin’.” “Thanks for your sage advice... Old man.” I was rewarded with a sparring box to the ears. “Off with ya, before I put ya down in th’ parking lot here.” I laughed, and took my leave of James. And as I turned my S2000 back onto the main road, I saw the sun start to peek out from behind the clouds near the horizon. It’s about how I felt now. A new dawn. And I’d be a fool not to take advantage.

MAIN EVENT WORLD TITLE BOUT, SUBMISSION MATCH El Luchadore Magnifico© vs JJ Johnson SPECIAL GUEST COMMENTATOR: Wes Davenport - Tree to retain, but JJ's going to make it uber close. And I'm putting even money on Muzzums writing something anyway. SINGLES MATCH "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu vs Todd Cortez - Beans, beans, the magical fruit... HARDCORE TITLE BOUT Bruce Blank© vs Ghost Machine 2.0 - If anyone can beat the machine, it's Brucie. MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT! - If Heff gets fired, Ghost Machine 2.0 will be Crimson Skull's new 'partner'. SINGLES MATCH Laberinto vs "The Icon" Max King - Max to beat Masked. CRUSIERWEIGHT TITLE BOUT, TRIPLE THREAT Zyon© vs Kevin Coyote vs Christian Fury - Fuck that noise, yo... SINGLES MATCH Amy Stephens vs Insane Luchador - Not that I want to see Andy get his ass kicked by a grrl, but... SINGLES MATCH Jimmy the Doom vs The Crimson Skull - Doom becomes you! DOOOOOM!!! OPENING BOUT SINGLES MATCH Archie Griffon vs Michael Cross - Anger is good, yes...

(Shakes head at being ranked below Myers) Eh... Guess it's time to do some work.

1) Who are you, and what have you done this year? I am Chris Fury, on-again / off-again writer, worker, and active. This year, I've made my umpteenth return to the Fed. 2) What do you think of CC and their work at this time? Considering the wide-flung vareity of personalities, backgrounds, and interests of the writers of the Fed... I think the CC has done an admirable job of trying to keep everyone in the varied loops, and making sure a quality product is out there. Although even in the short time I've been back I've seen some faux-paus and gaffes, I attribute it to the newer CCs needing a little more time to know their roles. 3) What do you think this fed's strongest suit is? The aforementioned vareity of the writers. Everyone's got a spice to add to the stew here, and that's a good thing. I mean, what other e-Fed would dare try to come up with things like Calvinball, Miami Mayhem, Mall Brawl, and the like... And have them work on a consistent basis??? It's a tribute to the writers that give these oddball gimmicks and angles a shot, and put their own signature on them. 4) What do you think this fed's weakest suit is? I'll be honest. When I came back around here, I thought that the Fed would (if still around) be a ghost of its former glory. I'm glad I was wrong, but I do see something... We're getting older, folks. Our lives are changing, and priorities are shifting. But just because the real world is getting more serious for us doesn't necessarily mean that our personas have to follow suit. This is our escape. For Goddess' sake, I know that real life gets in the way of our little gem of a world here... But just because our lives rebel against us, we don't have to suck our characters down into the same mire. Not sure if any of that made sense, but here it is in a nutshell: Let's get back to what worked for us before. Serious when we have to be, but light-hearted and fun because we want to be. 5) Do you have any suggestions for changes in how things are run? Honestly, I haven't been back long enough to see all the nuances... Ditching Family Friendly seemed like a good start though. I like Judge's suggestions for the new slots in CC, but... That'd be a Hell of an implementation, and the growing pains and all. 6) Overall, do you like the direction the fed is headed in? Seeing a lot of the old (but good) blood coming back in some way, shape, and form is "a good thing". The newer writers are also real talents. Diamonds in the rough and all that. So I think we're on the up-and-up. And that makes me a glad panda.

But can you handle losing that match? J/k... ...Or am I???

Ahh... Easy enough. (Nods) I approve.

(Laugh) Go figure, that was an ending that I kinda threw together haphazardly... I was going to have the interview go not-so-South, but... I toyed with the idea of the near-mention of the Clan because of the other angle that was started. Glad it took well.

Someone care to remind me of the particulars behind cruiserweight rules? This drunk and addled (but mostly drunk) mind can't recall...

As it should. (Nods) Seriously though, it's just the issue that I've grown up with the NFL and such being called football, and that other game is called soccer. I'm a stubborn cuss like that.

I've actually been able to get into soccer a little bit. I blame FIFA Soccer 2006 from EA Sports. But I refuse, -refuse-, REFUSE to call it football. That is not football. NFL, NCAA, the Arena League. That's football.

(Tries to stop laughing long enough to post) No... No no no. ihvog4wv 84r (Busts up laughing again, can't post)

Oh, I'm sure some ESPN channel or another will pick up on it. I know I saw a Cricket highlight on a Sportscenter Top Ten segment recently, so...