Old sk00l thing (Part 4 of 5)

[Guest Angel_Grace_Blue]

DAMN ZEROSLEEP!!! Causing many good promos that I wrote to get deleted!! GRRRR! This is the only one that was salvaged, and though it's not as good as the others, it's damn good nonetheless. I'm not sure of the exact time, but in 2001, the IGNWF entered 2 e-fed contest things. The first was the Survival of the Fittest. We were in the finals, and our team was Outcast, Divefire, Neilsen, Comet, and Riley(I think). Well, we lost (FIX!!!) and we entered another. That team was a bunch of people (Sorry, I can't remember everyone). Anyway, we won, and I personally think it's because of this little promo here. If there are any questions, ask me.

 

Mayor McCheese: Yo! Mr. G! Wake up!

 

Mr. Galatea: What? Damn it McCheese, I was having the best dream. I dreamt that Miss Galatea and I were running Kurt Angle over again and again and again. Now what is it?

 

MM: Sorry to tell you this, but the Big Man says that since not all of your body is with you, here in heaven, you only have a limited residency. That means you’ve got to go to Hell to collect your two testicles.

 

Mr. G: Damn. By myself, or do I get help?

 

MM: Well, I can’t accompany you, but you may ask any mortal to assist you.

 

Mr. G: Hmm, is there a time limit?

 

MM: From what the Big Man said, you have two days to complete your task.

 

Mr. G: Damn it! All right, I’ll get on it.

 

Mr. G’s ever-shifting spectral form floats out of his heavenly room, and descends to Earth, where Neilsen of the Jungle is sitting in a locker room, drinking heavily, as always.

 

Mr. G: Yo, Neilsen! I need some help.

 

NotJ (Speech slurred): Misstah Gee? What’chu want?

 

Mr. G: I’ve got to go to Hell and get my nuts back, wanna come with? You can kick the eternally damned asses.

 

NotJ: No thankshh Gee. ‘Sides, everyone who facessshh Neilshen of the motherf*cking Jungle is eternally damned!

 

Mr. G: All right, I guess I’ll have to find someone else. I know! G.O.A.T. shouldn’t be too busy, I’ll see if he’ll come.

 

Mr. G’s eerily ghostal form exits Neilsen’s room and heads down a hall, and soon finds the G.O.A.T. alone in a locker room.

 

Mr. G: G.O.A.T.! Man, I’ve got a problem.

 

G.O.A.T.: What’s the matter G?

 

Mr. G: Well, it seems if I don’t get my nuts back from Hell, I’m kicked out of heaven, so I was…

 

G.O.A.T.: Wondering if I wanted to go to Hell with you to get your nuts back? Sure, I’m not doing anything today.

 

Mr. G: Great, just get your stuff and we’ll be ready to go.

 

After a few minutes of preparation, G.O.A.T. and Mr. Galatea leave the IGNWF arena and head for Hell. After quite some time of traveling, the duo finally reaches the gates of Hell, where an ominous looking Gatekeeper stands.

 

Gatekeeper: Halt! Those who wish to enter the gates of Hell must first answer me these questions three. If you answer a question wrong, you will be cast in to the pit of eternal sucktitude, where you must listen to the WWF and WCW creative teams of the early-mid 90s pitch gimmick and storyline ideas to you. These are the same people responsible for nearly everything you see on Wrestlecrap.

 

Mr. G: I know this! I’ve seen “Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail” hundreds of times! I’ll go first Gatekeeper!

 

Gatekeeper: Okey-dokey. Question the first: What is your name?

 

Mr. G: Mr. Galatea.

 

Gatekeeper: What is your quest?

 

Mr. G: I seek my nuts.

 

Gatekeeper: Final question, who is your true love?

 

Mr. G: Miss Galatea, of course.

 

Gatekeeper: Correct, you may pass the gates of Hell. Now, you must answer me these questions three. What is your name?

 

G.O.A.T.: G.O.A.T.

 

Gatekeeper: What is your quest?

 

G.O.A.T.: Well, at this very moment, I seek his nuts. On a long-term basis, I’d like to win the Gathering of Champions tournament, win a World Title in the IGNWF, settle down, marry, have a few kids, maybe a puppy.

 

Gatekeeper: Final question, what is your gimmick?

 

G.O.A.T.: Uhh, Mr. G, I need your assistance for a second.

 

KAPWING! Even the mighty Gatekeeper cannot withstand a Galatea nut-shot, and he falls to his knees as G.O.A.T. scrambles past, followed by the flowing spirit of Mr. G.

 

G.O.A.T.: Thanks man! I couldn’t stand being around those bookers.

 

Mr. G: Don’t mention it. With all you’ve done with the Galatea Fund, I owe you several, actually.

 

G.O.A.T.: Don’t you think there would be a lot of minions and demons around to try and stop us or something?

 

As if on cue, a horde of demons, the next one more vile and evil than the last emerge from the crevices and caves of Hell.

 

Mr. G: You had to say something, didn’t you?

 

G.O.A.T.: Damn it! I’m sorry, okay? I think we should be able to handle them, I think.

 

Mr. G: STOP! DEMONS OF HELL, I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!

 

The demons screech to a halt, wondering what the semi-unseen figure has to say.

 

Mr. G: EITHER GO BACK FROM WHENCE YOU CAME, OR I SHALL TORMENT YOU FAR WORSE THAN BEELZEBUB COULD EVER IMAGINE!

 

The demons look around at one another, wondering that is really possible.

 

Mr. G: YOU DOUBT ME? I HAVE “If They Only Knew” ON AUDIOBOOK, AND A TAPE PLAYER WITH A HUGE SUPPLY OF RECHARGEABLE BATTERIES, SO JUST TRY ME!

 

The demons all scurry in terror, none of them wanting to hear Chyna read her own book.

 

G.O.A.T.: Man, that was close. Why do you have that book anyway?

 

Mr. G: I was just bluffing, but I’m a great bluffer. I’ve beaten the Queen of Spades every time we’ve played cards. Hey! I think those are my nuts!

 

Indeed they are the deceased grappler’s genitalia, one can only speak Spanish, the other Russian.

 

Mr. G: Hmm, I’m not too fluent in Espanola, but I’ll try. Uh, el muy grande. La gato is mucho amigo.

 

Spanish Nut: Que?

 

Mr. G: El muy grande gato es mucho negro.

 

Spanish Nut: Que?

 

Mr. G: Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! I’ve got an idea.

 

Mr. G snaps his fingers, and suddenly, El Luchadore Magnifico appears, wearing a sombrero and looking bewildered.

 

ELM: What the hell is going on?

 

Mr. G: Exactly.

 

ELM: Que?

 

G.O.A.T.: You’re in Hell, but don’t worry, you’re not dead, you’ve just got to help Mr. Galatea retrieve his nuts. One of them speaks Spanish, and we can’t communicate with him, so…

 

ELM: You wanted me to talk to his nut in hopes of getting it to rejoin his body? I guess so.

 

ELM walks over to the testicle and the two begin conversing very rapidly in Spanish. After a few minutes, ELM walks back to Mr. G and G.O.A.T.

 

Mr. G: Well, what did he say?

 

ELM: He says he’ll come, only if you get him something.

 

Mr. G: Tequila, right?

 

ELM: Exactly.

 

Mr. G: All right, thanks for the help. I’ll send you back to whatever you were doing.

 

Mr. G snaps his fingers, and ELM disappears, only to be replaced with a bottle of tequila. G.O.A.T. picks up the bottle and hands it to the Spanish-speaking testicle.

 

Mr. G: I’m not even going to try with the Russian nut. Where there any Russian IGNWF wrestlers?

 

From the shadows steps former IGNWF superstar, the Russian Bear.

 

RB (In a very cheesy Russian accent): I will crush you.

 

KAPWING! Even the great Russian Bear cannot stand up to a Galatea nutshot as he crumples to the floor.

 

Mr. G: Damn you Russian Bear! I need a good Russian person!

 

Mr. G snaps his fingers again, this time former Hardcore and World Champion Spike appears, clad only in boxers and looking tired.

 

Spike: Damn it Galatea! Julie and I were continuing the streak!

 

Mr. G: Damn man, I’m sorry, but I’ve got a bigger problem. I need you to talk to my Russian nut and tell him to come back with me.

 

Spike: Dude, he’s Russian, just give him vodka and he’ll do anything you ask.

 

Mr. G: Thanks; I’ll send you back.

 

Mr. G snaps his fingers, Spike returns from whence he came and a bottle of vodka takes his place. G.O.A.T. picks up the bottle of vodka, takes it to the Russian-speaking nut and douses the testicle with the entire bottle.

 

G.O.A.T.: I’m not touching your nuts dude. You’ll have to get them yourself.

 

Mr. G: All right, but it’s kind of hard being a specter and everything. You know what’s weird? I would have thought Satan or something along those lines would try and stop us.

 

As Mr. G floats over and gathers up his inebriated nuts, the ground begins to crack. From a huge canyon, Beelzebub itself rises.

 

G.O.A.T.: You had to say something, didn’t you?

 

Mr. G: Shut up. I knew it! I always thought Kathie Lee Gifford was Satan.

 

G.O.A.T.: Really, I was told it was Martha Stewart.

 

Satan: FOOLS! YOU THINK YOU CAN LIBERATE YOUR TESTICLES FROM THE IMPRISONMENT THAT IS HELL? I SHALL SMITE YOU AND YOU SHALL FOREVER CALL ME, KATHIE LEE GIFFORD YOUR OVERLORD AND MASTER!

 

Mr. G: I don’t think so biatch!

 

G snaps his fingers and a book-on-tape version of “If They Only Knew” along with a tape player and bullhorn appear.

 

Mr. G: Listen, either you let us pass through the gates, or I play this sucker!

 

KLG snaps her grotesque claws and a pair of ear plugs appear, which she promptly places in her ears.

 

KLG/Satan: YOU AIN’T GOT NOTHIN’ BITCH!

 

Mr. G looks frustrated, almost reluctant, but quickly snaps his fingers and Chyna herself, looking perplexed, appears.

 

Mr. G: I’ll leave the man-beast here!

 

Chyna: Hey, this place isn’t that bad. I think I might stay.

 

KLG: YOU WOLDN’T DARE!

 

Mr. G: Try me, biatch.

 

KLG extends an arm, wraps her hand around Chyna’s head (It is possible, but her ego is huge) and lifts the man-beast in the air.

 

Chyna: Uh, excuse me. This isn’t supposed to be happening. I thought I’m supposed to dominate all my matches.

 

KLG: YOU THOUGHT WRONG!

 

KLG squeezes, crushing Chyna’s head. KLG wipes her hands of the filth that is Chyna, when KAPWING!!

 

Mr. G: Damn! That was one helluva nut shot G.O.A.T.!

 

G.O.A.T.: It was all I could think of. Now let’s get out of here!

 

Mr. G: Great advice!

 

The two run as fast as they can, stopping only to float the still down Russian Bear into the path of the enraged and oncoming Kathie Lee Gifford.

 

KLG: Hey, you’re kinda cute.

 

RB: I will sex you.

 

Mr. Galatea and G.O.A.T. finally reach the gates of Hell, where the huge Gatekeeper is just recovering from the nut shot he received earlier.

 

GK: HALT! YOU KICKED ME IN THE NUTS. FOR THIS, I WILL CRUSH YOU!

 

Mr. G: Wait a second, I know you!

 

Galatea knocks the helmet off the gatekeeper’s head, to reveal, the Russian Bear’s brother, the Kazakhstan Lion!

 

KL: I will crush you.

 

Mr. G: You know, your brother’s in there, dipping in your Kool-Aid. I’d take care of that if I were you.

 

KL: That bastard! I mean, I will crush him!

 

The Kazakhstan Lion runs towards Kathie and the Russian Bear, as Mr. Galatea and G.O.A.T. pass through the gates of Hell, and Mayor McCheese descends from an opening in the clouds.

 

MM: Well done Galatea! You can stay in heaven forever now, unless you want to take a vacation or whatever.

 

Mr. G: Well, that was fun. You think you should talk about the GoC now?

 

G.O.A.T.: Might as well. Hmm, let’s see. NRG and your little team of FWFers, the teams aren’t the only things that are different from the Survival of the Fittest. The outcome is going to be greatly different as well. Now, Team Lethal Injection doesn’t have the best of our little crew, but from what you’re capable of, Russian Bear and BasketballASA should be able to beat you, but just because you’re with a well-known name, people think you’re great. I mean, will Street Fighter Delta Hyper Turbo 7 be any good? It doesn’t matter, people will buy it just because of the name it’s associated with. Now, on to the other teams. Let’s see, X-Rated, one member is a Junior Leaguer by the name of Snow Demon. Well, if he hasn’t made it to the big leagues yet, I don’t see him, or his little friends as much of a threat. Finally, Team Inhumain. Now, I don’t know anything about any of these people, but I still don’t see them as much of a threat. Basically, even without our greatest or top people, like Cyclone Comet, Neilsen, and Outcast in the Gathering of Champions, Team Lethal Injection is going to win. Plain and simple. Now, let’s get drunk G.

 

Mr. G: Amen brother!

 

The two walk off (Well, a ghost can’t exactly walk, but you get the idea), heading towards the nearest bar as the image fades to black.

[Guest TheAntipop]

(Y)

[Guest El Luchadore Magnifico]

Isn't it amazing how far my character has come?

 

Oh wait...