AM:COD/BO&CW

[Patty O'Green 0]

This match is bad. Not bad as in bad to the bone, but bad as in it sucks. And it's long. So it took me a while to write, it will take you a while to read and it's still terrible. Just awful. Very, very, awful. And it has to be split over two posts. If this match was a person I'd fucking kill it. Also, the board tells me I'm way under the character limit but I still have to split the post. I'd kill the board also.

 

COLE
Up next have Chicks Over Dicks against Christian Wright and Bohemoth. This feud got started way back in mid February when Wright, for no reason whatsoever, interrupted Alix's interview with Josh Matthews just to insult her. They fought, and the week after that, Wright attempted to clock her with a bat, but he nearly choked to death on her chili, until she saved as life. As thanks, he cost her and Krista their tag titles at Zero Hour, and later that night they cost him his HI-YAH heavyweight title. On the following HeldDOWN a debate with Snoop Dogg as moderator ensued ,and some other stuff happened after that.  More importantly, Los Diablos have joined us at ringside, at Alix's request. They're dressed in fairy costumes and are with a gang of hunks in skimpy fairy outfits! Delightful!

A breathtaking diamond encrusted cocoon appears at the center of the stage. Beset with the color and glamor of precious gemstones, this glorious object is pure enhancement to the mesmerized crowd. The lustrous interlocking rings of sterling silver that make sparkle with royal regency under the caress of the off white lights. The stunning array of [color=#0033CC][b]blue[/b][/color], [color=#FFFF00][b]yellow[/color][/b], [color=#00FF33][b]green[/color][/b] and [color=#660066][b]purple[/color][/b] sapphires twilight in the eyes of the audience, as Britney Spears' romantic trance ballad [i]And then we kiss[/i] intermingles into the bewitching mood. A bevy of female dancers pours onto the stage, further ornamenting the mythical fairytale-esque scene. Outfitted in incandescent purple ballet tights, and lustering butterfly wings, the dancers glide their bodies around the stunning array of expensive diamonds, while the familiar [color=red][b]red[/color][/b] pyro fountain ascends to harmonize with the lovely [color=#ff3366 ][b]pink[/color][/b] pyro waterfall. As the gestural movements of the dancers reach their greatest frenzy, both pyrotechnic displays dissolve, only to be memorialized by a voluminous [color=#ffff33][b]gold[/color][/b] explosion that makes the entire stage it's kingdom. As that bustling yellow star fades into a thick white haze, we see that the mystifying dancers have disappeared, left as mere figments of one's fantasy. Now the only thing on stage is the cocoon. It's spectacular hues of brilliance begin to pull apart, letting it's dazzling allure give way to it's even more dazzling inhabitants, Chicks Over Dicks. Their long awaited appearance evokes a reverberant roar from every last audience member that shakes the building right to it's very foundation. While the radiant cherry and green colored lights sweep across the arena, and the fans' clamorous noise escalates by the second, the targets of this fervor strike an arresting pose of elegance in front of their beautiful shell. Alix, in a spicy red tube top and matching micro skirt, is on her knees, with her body enigmatically turned away from the camera, her head enticingly looking over her shoulder, and her arms wrapped around Krista's legs. Krista, resplendent in a gold tube top and gold mini skirt, is in a stance of provocative domination, standing authoritatively with her her hand slid through her yellow locks, shielding her face and giving her an airy expression of mysteriousness.

BUFFER
The following tag team match is scheduled for one fall with a time limit of thirty minutes, now making their way to the ring, first, from Los Angeles, California, she is the CEO of Mrs.Spezia's sweeties, the 2005 OAOAST Women's Wrestler of the year, ALIX MARIA SPEZIA! And her partner, from Los Angeles, California, she is a best selling author, and star of the world famous FIT with KID line of exercise videos, she is Miss California Krista Isaodra Duncan! Together they are America's Sweethearts, Chicks Over Dicks! 

While spiraling pink pyro sparklers light up the stage like a marvelous super nova, Alix blows a kiss into the camera, leading adorable super imposed lips to appear on screen. Krista's entrance is somewhat less cute. She gingerly spills the contents of Tequila bottle down her salivating mouth, before tossing it's empty remains over her shoulders and wiping the liquor off her mouth. The duo nears the squared circle, where Krista takes up position on the ring apron. Through the irresistible power of beauty, grace and perfection, Krista stands in a gorgeously harmonious pose, with one hand on the rope, the other at her side, and her head tilted back in dreamy effervescence. Alix just stuffs her face with her Mrs.Spezia Sweeties band Gingerbread cookies while chatting with Los Diablos and playing a game on her cell phone. I guess no one choreographed this part.

Two rippling pillars of fire sprout from openings on either side of the entrance door, reaching towards the Heaven's above with their stunning height. Yet the arena starts to feel more like hades thanks to the immense heat given off by the bright orange obelisks. These scorching flames become testaments to the mutual hatred between the soon to be arriving grapplers, and the jeering audience. As the angst pumped intro of  Disturbed's [i]Liberate[/i] weaves it's way into the ears of viewers world wide, the twin towers rescind into the serpentine underworld from which they came. What replaces them is a sight far more impressive in it's glorious holocaust. An immeasurably large wall of fire buries the viewable entrance area with lustrous conflagration. The only thing that burns hotter then this fiery fortress is the hatred of the crowd and COD for the men who stand behind it. Eventually the flames fade into an erry nothingness, permitting Christian Wright and Bohemoth to take center stage at the biggest performance of their careers. As they step through the smoky haze, it's like the atrocious criminals are walking through the charred remains of hell. Wright, cloaked in an apocalyptic black robe that reflects the stream of orange lights circling him, shoots his arms out to the side in a crucifix pose. It's a purposefully defiant stance, with not a shred of humility detectable in it's airings. He's telling his enemies that he's arrived to punish them for their sins, and not even the flames of Satan can stop him. Bohemoth, wearing simple black trunks lined by a green tribal pattern on the back, is more subdued in his entry, cooly flexing his remarkable guns. There's no need for artifice or affectation with him. He knows he's the man. Tonight you will to.

COACH
What an entrance! What a display of power!

BUFFER
And the opponents representing the Upstarts....first from Greenville, South Carolina....he is the Meterosexual Monster, weighing in at a fearsome two hundred eighty seven pounds, the PIMPEMOTH~!, BOOOOOOHEMOOOOOOTH! And his partner..from Raleigh, North Carolina, the 2005 OAOAST rookie of the year, he is the OAOASTS Moral High ground, weighing in at two hundred and thirty three pounds, he is The Natural CHRISTIAN WRIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

The second Buffer's announcement concludes, Wright violently discards his robe on the steps, shedding that onyx skin like a snake in the grass. He sinks to his knees, and takes a longing glance at the sky above, begging to be blessed with the strength he needs to defeat these heinous sinners. He's now clad  only in cargo pants that are made distinct by their bold crimson color. Crimson is the color of blood. The exact liquid he hopes to have Chicks Over Dicks spew tonight. After the two warriors descend from the final stair, each step becomes encased in blistering flames. Yes, they truly are entering from the gates of hell. Christian and his long time friend slide into the ring, where they are met with the loudest boos of their young OAOAST careers. 

COLE
Bohemoth and Christian Wright are making their very first appearance at Anglemania, while Alix is making her third and Krista is making her second. 

Bo seems ready and willing to begin what he's sure will be a lopsided drubbing in his team's favor. But his judicial ally believes discretion is the better part of valor and holds him back, to take a moment to discus strategy. In truth it's not much of a discussion. It's more of a lecture from Wright on how to conduct oneself in such a grandiose theatre, mixed in berating for wrongs Bo hasn't even committed yet. The bored fans moan with disgust at the length of Wright's trite sermon, and one portly front row audience member in a New Jersey Devils hockey jersey makes his issues heard loud and clear....

“HEY! I CAME TO SEE WRESTLING, NOT A GAY ORGY! DO SOMETHING, YOU FAGGOTS!”

“Kind sir,” Wright begins. “Have you paid currency for that seat of yours?”

“YES!”

“Well then, we already have your four hundred dollars, and seeing that there are no refunds, we are free to do as we like. Now, Bo, as I was saying....”

Thankfully, the referee intervenes into Wright's oration, before the snobbish grappler can be responsible for clearing out the Trump Plaza before half the show is over. The official sternly orders Bo to take a spot on the apron. The big man is happy to oblige, just thankful to get away from his preachy partner. The bell is rung and we are underway.

Our contest commences with the “leaders” of their respective teams, Christian Wright and Krista Isadora Duncan. Chants of “Krista” buzz through the air, bringing a slanderous snarl to Wright's face. Enshrined in his web of bitterness and acerbity, he lunges towards his despised rival for an opening lockup. However Krissy is staunchly opposed to being trapped in his clutches, and spins behind him for a rear waistlock. Her hands clasp around his stomach, quickly weaving him under her momentary control. Distraught over having been one upped by a woman who he considers nothing more then a bimbo with a thesaurus, Wright begins to furiously pump back elbows towards her noggin. His hope is that he can knock her out so that he may pummel her to his hearts content. Unfortunately, his bestial prayers go unanswered, and she drops to her knees, wraps her hands around his bares shins, and savagely rips his legs out from under him with a double leg takedown! Christian is caught unaware by that basic attack and can't defend himself from a riotous face first landing that has half the crowd wincing in sympathetic pain. His eyes are moist, but his voice is cold as he damns her for her trickery and assures her that she will suffer for it.

Krista swings her body to the side of Wright's, then knots her arms around his thin neck for a simple headlock. The blonde bombshell squeezes tightly, limiting the air circulating through his head and causing him a great deal of discomfort. She wrenches in on the move as tight as her little body will allow, making no pretense  about the fact that she's trying to choke her enemy to [i]death[/i]. Robinson thinks of interjecting himself into her vile hold, but the bitter expression on her face tells him that only a man with a death wish would bother this femme fatale. Wright has no such death wish, but this Jezebel is certainly treating him he does!  It isn't long before the extensive aggravation becomes to heavy an albatross to bear, and he's forced to use his sizable strength advantage to push himself and her upright. His quest for relief from his beautiful tormentor reaches it's zenith when he presses his hands into her back and shoves her to the ropes. The cables spit her out, her feet involuntarily carrying her back towards her waiting foe. With jet black eyes gleaming like quicksilver,CW clasps his hands around her slender waist and rockets her into the air for a flapjack. The hang time she gets is incredible, she hovers in the air so long you'd be tricked into thinking she had the ability to fly. The almost levitating property of her elevation is bound to make her eventual landing a most painful experience. Thankfully Miss California is able to evade a cataclysmic fall, extending her arm forward and snagging his head into an aerial facelock! It's obvious she's seeking a tornado DDT, but it's also obvious that CW will do anything to prevent that move from occuring. Thus he presses his hands on her waist and violently shoves her away, ridding himself of her rattling  grip. She lands on on her glittering boots, but teeters off balance ever so slightly, giving him a window of opportunity to zoom forward with a shoulder block. That idea turns out to be as wise as Jessica Simpson's idea for edible makeup, because Krissy flourishes forward and wallops CW's face with a spinning wheel kick! Christian is knocked for an absolute loop as he crashes into the mat with a resonating thud. As if he was character from Loony Tunes, little blue birdies swirl in front of his blurred vision.

“HEY!” Screams a second row fan in a New York Islanders Jersey “I CAME TO SEE A GAY ORGY, NOT WRESTLING! SCREW THIS, HETEROS!” He declares, and promptly walks out.

Meanwhile, Wright gruffly moans to the zebra about the blatant usage of closed fists, despite the fact that nary a single punch has been thrown by his adversary. While his nonsensical ranting and raving is underway, Krista kips up and immediately goes into a showboating jumping jacks routine, which elicits quite the roar from New Jersey crowd. Although we can't be entirely sure if they're popping because they like seeing Wright mocked, or they're cheering because her boobs are bouncing up and down. Smart money is on option B!

The only heterosexual male who isn't cheering happens to be Christian Wright. Wiping his hand across his wounded head, he stands up and barrages her with orders to “cease your infernal jesting!” Never one to take an order from [i]any[/i] man, Krissy retorts to Wright's demand with a one finger salute! The audience clamors with praise, and it's this joy that stokes the fire she has started within his being. He rushes her, ready to split her body in two with a western lariat. But Krista dodges more clotheslines in a week then most wrestlers dodge in a lifetime, thus is able to effortlessly counter this elementary attack with a simple hiptoss! Wright lands on his ample posterior, but his pride is more hurt the any part of his body. As he's unable to admit a mere woman could ever get one over on him, he efforts another clothesline at her immediately upon standing. This time Krista isn't nearly as gentle, forgoing the hiptoss to snag him into a headlock. This simple move stays held for about two seconds, before Krissy whirls to his side and clasps onto his tattooed arm. He thinks armbar. But that incorrect thought begets his downfall, for Krista snaps him to the canvas with a inverted single arm ddt! Pain lights up his howls, as he starts to honestly wonder if he's seriously erred in an picking a fight with these women. Krista stands up and takes long, overly formal bows, to her legion of worshiping fans. 

COLE
There's Los Diablos over at ringside with their guys. What a great group! There's D'Shaun, Andre, Lance, Bruce, Anthony, he's from San Antonio he's so wonderful, Paul..

CABOOSE
We don't need to know their names.

Taking Wright by his mass of curly black hair, she hauls him upright. Shortly after being stood up, Wright regains his bearings and takes control of this match by drilling a knee into Krista's finely sculpted abs. He then traps her into a lockup, which she futilely tries to break free of. Unable to escape, she's cursed with an arm wrench that tugs on her limb hard enough to nearly jerk it out it's socket. Wright then attempts to put her on the run towards the ropes with a whip, but Krista shifts her momentum and sends the maven of morals hurtling to the cables himself. He's thrust back to her, where she threads her legs across his ankles and levels him with a drop toe hold. His face has another grizzly introduction with the mat, and he makes no bones about expressing his pain in a very loud and very vulgar manner. Miss California, now standing, tries to bring even more doom and gloom into his world, by targeting an elbow drop to the small of his back. But Wright, thanks to a timely warning from Bo, is capable of avoiding the golden beauty's attack. Her missing arm bounces off the canvas, and an almost vibrating pain buzzes through it as he lies on the ring floor. Now it's an upright Christians' turn to try and increase her misery, by flinging himself backwards with a standing moonsault directed at that hurt arm! This unexpected aerial attack may have been better left in his reverses, for Krista smartly rolls away from his slow moving body! CW smacks the mat broad chest first. Before he can go into a long winded complaint about his rising pain, Krissy is skirting towards the ropes. Managing to stomach the hurt, Wright stands up, not wishing to leave himself exposed for whatever catastrophic dish she has cooking in her kitchen. He springs into the air, seeking to leap frog her as she returns. But Kris will not partake in his bit of dalliance(look it up, dumbo!). Wearing a devious smirk, she simply drops to her knee, and extends her fist forward. The audience reacts with silent confusion, but they quickly change their tune to one of musical rapture, as CW lands testicles first onto her clenched hand

CABOOSE
You think by now people would be smart enough to wear cups to the ring.

Sporting a look of horrified aggravation, Wright bounces backwards, clutching his moisture seeking grissile missile, acting as if that region had just been victimized by repeated sledgehammer shots. Krista, rather unsympathetic towards his man pain, violently peels his left arm away from his denture cleaner, and slings that arm over her right arm. He makes a languid go of fighting his way free, weakly tossing elbows at her head. But she handily snuffs out his fire, striking a blaze of anguish across his back with an always en vouge STO! While Wright grouses on the mat, Krista stands up and pulls out a pink Revlon compact mirror out her top, she flips it open and asks it a pressing question,

“Mirror, mirror, not on the wall, who is the baddest bitch of them all? There was a rubble dubble, five minutes it's lasted, the mirror said you are 'you conceited bastard'.” Assured that she is in fact the baddest bitch of them all, Krista chucks her mirror into the stands, where a donnybrook over the valued souvenir..

Wright angrily stands up on his own power, playing the perfect pawn in Krissy's strategy of letting him waste his energy. But he doesn't expend nearly as much energy as she would've thought, and she's quite stunned when he seizes onto her wrist and throws her to the ropes! Krista is forced to think on her feet (literally!), but fortunately she's able to devise a decent if not roundly simple plan. She slides between the gap in Wright's cargo shorted legs, hoping she can stun him with a side Russian leg sweep when she rises. However those hopes go up in brilliant flames as Wright spins around to meet her with devilish glare. When she stands, he grabs onto her slender waist for the early stages of a body slam. But the early stages are all he'll reach, for Kris' baby oil drenched body enables her to slip behind him. Taking advantage of this excellent position, she grabs onto his waist and runs him to the ropes, seeking to pull him down for a flash pin! But when he reaches the cables, Wright cradles them between his arms as if they were made of solid gold. This causes her to tumble backwards empty handed, while he stays erect (lolz) as a statue. Her temper flares murderously, and she rises, ready to rearrange his face with another one of her kicks. But it's Wright who's the first to try any facial rearranging in this sequence, streaming towards our heroine with a  malodorous lariat! Thankfully for her fitness career, Krista keeps her facial features intact, performing the tried and true “matrix counter” off bending her flexible body backwards. The misfiring Wright skids to a screeching halt, making the grave and arrogant error of believing he can simply turn and floor her with that failed clothesline. He's quickly shown the erroneous nature of his thought process when KID kips up and scrambles his brains like eggs from Denny's with a sweet enziguri! 

“YEAAAAAAA!” belt the crowd.

Krista, perhaps owing to some sort of benignity in her blackened heart, feels a pang of pity for Christian's dismal condition. Forgiving for a second his insulting of her daughter, her best friend, and his attempt to slice off her gorgeous hair, Krissy helps her former enemy and soon to be friend up, and sweetly asks “I got some dirt on my shoulder, could you brush it off for me?” Well, Wright doesn't actually [i]know[/i] what “brushing dirt off one's shoulder means” but if Krista says it it must be something unscrupulous and lewd! Full of moral outrage, he tries to brush her nose off her face with a whirling punch! Yet Krista is able to keep clear of his propeller like attack, taking her body behind the crimson and ivory tornado. Her arms hook around his neck, limiting the dizzy wrestler's breathing and bringing a worried gasp from his lips. His vision then becomes stained by the blurring lights of the arena ceiling, as Krista  hauls him into the air! Finally his sight is stunned into a jarring blackness when Krista's sleeper drop crashes him into the canvas! Los Diablos and their loyal fairies giddily wave their glitter studded wands at the pleasing sight of Wright's defeated carcass.

“K-I-D! K-I-D! K-I-D!”

Leaving Wright to harrow on the floor, Miss California scampers towards the ring ropes. Predictably they shoot her at Wright's direction, but instead of simply running to him, she arches her body into a picturesque cartwheel.  Krista closes on her enemy, and fully extends her 5'10 frame into a body splash! Although her less then optimal for the world of wrestling body weight does a minimal amount of damage, it's still enough to grant  her the first pin of this contest.

UNO

Wright's shoulder comes up before the ref can even think of counting dos! Now Krista's fists come down rapid fire on CW's face, her bloody snarls betraying a deep seeded predatory nature. After her sixth hate filled punch scores and admonishment for a closed fist, Krista tugs CW up by his arm and leads her to her corner where she applies a tag who her gal pal, Alix Spezia! Miss Spezia's entry receives a gargantuan pop from rabid audience, but there's little time to bask in the cheers, as Krista's barking out stern orders. While managing Alix, Krista peppers Wright with forearms to his soft chin. These strikes leave him staggered long enough to execute what she feels will be a splendid double team. She takes Alix's, who's facing away from CW, boot into her hand. This action prompts a shocked Alix to remark that she didn't know Krista had a boot fetish. Groaning audibly, Krista propels her silly sidekick backwards, sending her flipping towards the former HI-YAH Heavyweight champ. The crowd thinks they'll see a basic moonsault press, but Alix has other ideas on her mind. In mid-flight she crooks her arm around his head for an inverted facelock, and on her descent she kicks her legs in front of her into a sit out position. A hapless Wright is left to the unmerciful devices of COD's crowd popping assisted back flip inverted ddt! And the unmerciful devices hurt like the dickens! 

“Duck soup!” Krista exclaims, dusting off her hands.

“No thanks, I'm not hungry.” Alix replies.

“No! It means easy. Duck Soup means easy.”

“Then why don't you just say 'that was easy', dork?”

“Oh, just shut up and pin him. DORK!”

Alix follows Krista instructions and makes a lateral press on Wright.

CROWD
ONE

CROWD
TWO

Wright thrusts his shoulder off the canvas, leading Alix to sarcastically mouth the words “Duck soup, huh?” towards her shrugging sistah from another mistah. Near Alix, The Natural wipes a stream of sweat from his forehead; as his head pulses with pain. Even though his performance in this bout has been hall-of-shame worthy, he's fairly certain he can best the more docile Spezia. Thus it's with increasing confidence that the now standing grappler landscapes her upper chest with a trembling melody of left and right forearms. A sharp back elbow impacts neatly on the side of her head, putting a nice exclamation point on his assault. Feeling her  weakened enough to be subject to his diabolical schemes, he slips her into a front facelock. Then in one blink and you miss it motion, he plummets backwards, spiking her head into the unforgiving beige mat with a beautiful snap DDT. Standing on the mass of messy coffee colored hair, Alix's body snaps up to it's full height, before going rigid and sinking to the floor. Over on the ring apron, Bohemoth claps for Wright's show of dominance.

CABOOSE
Wright could be softening Alix's neck for his Converting The Sinner finisher.

Alix starts to shake slightly, her nerves spasming,as Christian deposits a succession of stomps into her lower back. The audience's heat for him grows louder with each passing blow, and they make no effort to stifle their disgust., bringing forth a round of “WRIGHT SUCKS CHANTS” (that's not a typo, that's the actual chant). The Moral Highground churlishly demands silence from the unclean masses while he lifts a groggy Alix to her feet. He proposes that if the onlookers will not afford the respect due a man of his stature, he will make their adorable starlet pay the price for their error. As such the North Carolina native grabs her left arm, and glides it across her chin. To his chagrin he encounters spirited resistance in the form of violent squirming from the fan favorite. For mere seconds it appears that Ally Cat may just be able to break free from her cage. But Wright's calm and measured knee to the small of her back temporailly turns this headstrong tiger into a submissive kitty. With his feline like rival under his direful spell, he twists her body so that her neck lays lazily across his shoulder. Christian then drops down and wrenches her neck on his arm, sending jolts of pain through the limb with an arm trap neck breaker! Alix crumbles to the mat, shrieking as the chilling agony scorches a terrible path across her body. 

CABOOSE
Wright, again working over that neck.

While his opponent attends to her misery, Wright turns towards Krista, his eyes cold, lips shifting into a  damnable smirk, and informs her that this is the fate her sin has wrought. To which Krissy calmly replies by reminding him that be spent the better part of the past six minutes getting his ass kicked, and if he keeps talking he can spend the better part of the next six years getting beat some more. Wright just gives her a vituperative scowl, and turns away from the surly booze hound. Knowing the best way to damage Krista is to damage Alix physically, he turns his attention towards the neck his past two (and his [i]only[/i] two) offensive attacks have pummeled, and rips into it with vile stomps.

“ALIX! ALIX! ALIX!” chant the audience, led by Krista, and Los Diablos and their merry band of spritlings.

Wright would very much like to demolish Alix before this swell of support rallies her to trample his short lived flurry of offense. This desire causes him to work quicker then usual, as he roughly yanks her up, and slams a palm deep into her gut. More air is robbed from her when he thuds a carefully measured elbow across the middle of her shoulder blades. She unsteadily totters from left to right, making herself easy pickings for his next salvo. He grabs her around the waist, then with all the force he can muster, razes Alix into a neutral corner. Her back booms against the turnbuckles, nearly knocking off the middle pad upon hideous impact. A grimace of scathing hurt creeps onto her visage, as her sinister attacker steps back to delight in his whimpering handiwork. Elsewhere Bohemoth is getting restless at the lack of action offered him. To cage such a marvelous specimen is cruel and dangerous, and Bo pines for a tag. However Wright merely ignores him, deciding that he and he alone will determine when and [i]if[/i] Bo enters the match.

COLE
It appears Christian Wright is finally starting to get his act together after a rocky start.

The Natural tightly cocks his hand around Alix's neck, and shifts her slumped body fully upright. She mounts an uphill war to sway momentum to her side, battle-ramming her tensed fist into his stomach. However Wright stills her brief mutiny with a  punch to side of her skull. With her head ringing louder then a cathedral bell, he angrily thumps her face into the top turnbuckle pad. The impact generates a strenuous and hollow sound of metal on bone, that brings worried cries from the spectators. Ally clutches at the side of her stinging forehead, before The Natural shows no capacity for mercy, and replays the move. Once again the callous sound of metal on flesh screeches along the venue, running hand and hand with her own cries of despair.

“WRIGHT SUCKS!” screams a ten year old fan behind Triple C.

“Young man, when I require you to open your mouth, I will unzip my trousers.” Wright retorts, prompting the boy's drunken lard ass father to try an climb the guard rail so he can beat Wright down.

Miss Spezia paws at the side of her head and staggers back, bewailing in serve affliction. Her unrelenting rival stalks her path, reveling in the prospects of causing her more suffering. He once again assuming a hold on the back of Ally's neck, this time with two rough hands. With a deep throated snarl, he collides Alix's head into that oft-used top turnbuckle. For the third time tonight the harrowing sound of human bone on ice cold metal is heard loud and clear over the ring mics. Feeling a bit of self satisfaction, the rotten Upstart fires her off into the ropes. Shortly after bouncing off, Alix regains enough of her wits to produce some manner of counterattack. She turns her body backwards, and thrusts herself into Christian, wrapping her tanned legs around his waist in a leg scissors position. Her faint hope is that she'll be able to adjust him into a pinning predicament. However, reality is much different then that pipe dream, as Wright latches onto her legs then lugs her into the air for a wheelbarrow suplex. Having been in this situation many times before, Alix staves off the disastrous hold with unerring ease. She rotates her body at the height of her ascension so that she's able to face The Moral Highground and tangle him into an aerial facelock. The bouncy diva dips backwards, ready to splatter his brains across the canvas with a DDT. But Wright is unwilling to let the young lady fight her way into the driver's seat of this bout. Thus he encircles his arm around her exposed waist, and uses his superior strength to overpower her agility and take her for a repugnant ride with a beautiful and innovative back flip Northern Lights Suplex! Wright bridges the move, pinning his elusive foe on the now vibrating canvas. Volcanic tremors pummel her body and pain disfigures her face, as she stays muddled in his abusive web. Charles Robinson gets on his knees to make the count....

ONE

TWO

Alix gets her shoulder off the canvas, letting the crowd and her nearby friends breathe a much needed sigh of relief. Wright is unable to fathom how his excellent attack could only draw a two count, and fixes a stare on Robinson so icy that it could leave the entire state of New Jersey in a cold front. He picks Alix up and takes his sizable frustration out on her tight stomach with a duo of left jabs. Though the blows weren't particularly fierce, Alix's minimal endurance is such that they leave her in a vulnerable doubled over position. The Natural, of course, seeks to capitalize on this. Thus he situates himself onto her back, like she's going to give him a reverse horsey ride. This, however, isn't exactly the most steady of spots, for Alix's weak back means the pair could collapse at any second. And her wealth of exposed baby oil drenched skin makes her a slippery seat. Wright, being the super genius that he is, hooks her arms around his thin legs to offer him a speck of support. Now being in a somewhat better position, he lurches his body forward, attempting the move known as the Code Red. However, Alix in an uncharacteristic show of strength, bends her knees and stays upright, trying to fling him onto his back. While she does avoid the deathly move, she fails to rid herself of her troubling rival. This causes Bohemoth to enter the ring and lend some assistance to his friend that sorely needs it. He runs at Wright, roughly grabs onto the back of his head, and puts his substantial strength to good use by wildly shoving CW forward. Christian actually thinks he's being violated by Krista, and he screams bloody murder as he and Alix go toppling through the air! Imagine his pleasant surprise when he lands on his BUTT and watches Alix's neck crunch against the E in the “Anglemania” written on the canvas! The onlookers jeer the interference from Bo and urge Robinson not to count the ensuing pinfall. But the zebra denies their request and does so anyway.

ONE


TWO

Returning the favor for Bo's unwanted intrusion, Krista destroys Wright's pinfall with a springboard missile dropkick, popping the pro-COD crowd. However, Bo doesn't see this turnabout as fair play, and the agitated monster returns to the ring to get a piece of the pesky blond bombshell. While Krista may be brave to the point of stupidity, she has enough good sense to know a battle with Bohemoth is not in her health's best interest. So she ducks underneath the ropes, and back to the apron, before her fuming attacker can lay a finger on her. While the official directs the rampaging beast back to his corner, Krissy mockingly sticks out her tongue at him, which makes the large fellow all the madder.

COACH
What a coward!

Outraged, Wright directs a block long diatribe towards Robinson for his substandard officiating. After this long winded denunciation mercifully concludes, Wright hikes his wounded adversary upright. He ravels her into the oft-seen front facelock, then slings her left arm across his right shoulder. From there he assumes control of her left leg, putting her in a pretzel like position that makes escape highly improbable. Determination and cruelty alike registers on the sharp and intelligent facial features of the Upstart as he moves her upside down in front of his body. Muscles bulging and veins sprouting across his skin, he zips forward to nail her with a running Ki-Krusher. Unfortunately for him, Alix detects a sliver of vulnerability in his grip. And the plucky maiden seeks to turn this sliver into an all out gulf. She quickly shifts her greasy body in front of his face, engulfing the entirety of his vision with her bronze skin. Her arm wraps around his head and sortly thereafter the grapplers timber backwards thanks to Alix's sleek DDT reversal! Wright's noggin skips off the canvas with a thud, pleasing music to the cheering crowd who are grateful for Ally's timely counter.

“ALIX! ALIX! ALIX!” chant the fans and Los Diablos.

Obviously now would be a prudent time to bring in the Upstarts heavy hitter, Bohemoth. However Wright is as pig headed as he is intelligent. Thus he remains in the match despite the fact it's evident he's exhausted his good luck for the night. The reeling star stands up, stumbling and lurching sideways towards the ropes. Alix bulls towards him, her heart yearning for retribution. He makes an effort to delay her charge, feebly grabbing onto her waist for a sidewalk slam. Unsurprisingly this attempt goes down in smoldering ruin, as the twenty eight year old Alix uses his sweat stained body like some sort of playground slide, swinging and spinning around it until she winds up at his right side with a headlock applied. While her annoying trip around his world has come to a close, the real pain is just beginning, for she crashes him nose first into the ring floor with a lovely bulldog!

“ALIX! ALIX! ALIX!” chant the fans again.

“Nice knowing ya, funky monkey!” Alix gleefully remarks to Christian, as she painstakingly pulls his dead weight to a standing position. With an overwhelming thirst for vengeance claiming hold of her soul, the brunette puts a vice grip on his arm, holding it in front of her body. Wright makes every last effort to squirm away, but he'd need the jaws of life to free himself from his captor. In total control over her enemy, red skirted Alix rocks backwards and nearly separates the man's shoulder with the [b][color=#CC3333]Courting Alix[/color][/b](Single Arm DDT)! The spectators are ecstatic and Krista is as happy as her depressive personality will allow her to be.

COLE
Christian taking the Courting Alix!

Wright [i]finally[/i] gets the hint that he just may not be able defeat the former tag team champions by his lonesome. So it's with unsteady vision, and jelly legs that  scarcely support his six feet and one inch, that he makes the trek towards his loyal bodyguard. Problematically for The Natural, Alix is vehemently opposed to letting him escape, and will do anything to keep him entrenched in the morass of the OAOAST swamp. The level she stoops to to keep him in her domain  is one that will trail a canyon deep scar through his emotional psyche. Taking hold of the black waistband on his cardinal red shorts, spunky Alix jerks his ring attire down to his ankles! Perhaps most unfortunately of all, this happens to be the day Wright finally took Jamie O'Hara up on his advice to “fly it free like a bird, like Nelly Furtado”. 

COLE
Suddenly I feel a whole lot better about myself!

Oblivious to what awkward situation has claimed ownership of him, Wright hears the fans' hooting and hollering, and foolishly believes they have finally acceptted him as their righteous savior. He smiles smugly to himself before taking a step towards his corner where he trips over his disrobed clothing! His face takes the barbaric whole of the landing, and through the excruciating pain he realizes that something foul is amiss. It's only when he hears the little boy who he ordered to keep his mouth shut until he (Wright)unzips his pants, scream “CAN I OPEN MY MOUTH NOW? BITCH.”, does Wright turn his head behind him to see the mortifying sight awaiting his aghast vision! A girlish shriek travels through his vocal chords, out his agape mouth, and into the arena air where it joins the joyful cheers of the raucous onlookers. Over on the apron, Krista cusses a giggling Alix out for exposing her to such a repulsing sight. Elesewhere, Bohemoth tries and fails to stifle his laughter for his partner's ill luck.

COACH
Do something, Bohemoth!

Wright's molehill grows as large as Mount Everest when Moracca, one of only two men who doesn't find this flesh show to be comically revolting, slides into the ring to claim a simmering piece of grade A man [b]ASS[/b]! Roaring in a hysterical ecstasy, he mounts anguished Christian for a salacious round of degrading dog n pony riding! To the delight of the rollicking crowd, who can't handle seeing homosexual males as symbols of strength and must view them as effeminate sex fiends,  Moracca and his boy-toy cruise across the ring with Moracca slapping CW's full-figured BUTT, and merrily yelling at him to giddy up. Backstage, Jim Cornette is curled up into a little ball on the locker room floor, sucking his thumb as his mind is assailed by abhorrent  flashbacks of his own experiences with Los Diablos De Fuego. Back on the ring apron, Krista threatens to kill Alix for forcing her to bear witness to this disturbing visual. Alix replies by innocently stating she had no way of knowing that a sex addicted homosexual would pounce on the first semi attractive half naked man he saw.

COACH
Madness. Absolute madness.

Bohemoth, like Krista, has viewed more then enough of the emasculation of Wright. Unlike Krista, Bo is ready and able to cease the comedy show, while acquiring himself a taste of Anglemania action for the first time tonight. As the blissful luchadore and his disobliging victim near the Upstart's corner, Bo steps through the cables. Moracca, too wrapped up in his own zest, doesn't detect the hulking colossus approaching. Thus it's that damning ignorance that enables Bo to slice through him with a razor sharp lariat. The charred remains of the Diablo are slung off Wright, thudding to the mat in a steaming rubble. Mariachi and his cadre of hunks collect their serrated comrade, while Bo directs them an inarticulate snarl. His actions put him in the bullseye of public opinion, and the crowd pelts him with jeers and taunts.

COLE
Bohemoth has been itching to show off his skills, and now is his chance.

In spite of his salty sneer, The Upstarts personal pit bull is clearly overjoyed to be blessed with an opportunity to perform on the grandest stage pro wrestling has to offer. His veins surge exhilaration and his blood pumps with adrenaline, as he lavishes in the bewildering atmosphere. Alix wishes he'd bask in the amazement of Anglemania in the lockeroom instead of in the ring, because she is at a loss for ideas on how to dispatch this Goliath. Helpless, she turns to Krista for advice. Krista's offering: “Shoot him.” Thanks Krista.

CABOOSE
Here we go with a pairing between the smallest athlete in the OAOAST and the largest.

Alix's body plays like she's enduring an anxiety attack; neck muscles emerge, lines of worry erupt on her forehead, and veins tighten. The doubts about her ability to handle the super sized demon gnaw at her, and force the ditzy wrestler to develop an underhand tactic as a means of scoring victory. After the proverbial lightbulb buzzes over her head, Bo watches in perplexity as a somber Alix lays down flat on her back.

“Okie dokie, big dude. Pin me! You're a fairly large gent, and I'm a fairly teeny-tiny dame, and I'd kinda like for you not to beat me to a bloody pulp and devour my tasty brain beat shortly thereafter, so go ahead and pin me. Yessir! Hop to it!”

The Meterosexual Monster certainly isn't one to pass up an easy victory, and choses to take Alix up on her cowardly offer. But he feels he'd be remiss if he did not utilize one offensive attack during his first time in an Anglemania ring. Therefore he runs to the ropes, and bounces off to plant an elbow drop onto Alix's face. But what he truly does is run head first into her sneaky trap. Ally Cat speedily pulls her body away from the trajectory of his elbow, leaving the errant limb to rip into the rock solid mat! While the hurt in his ego over being bamboolzed is far worse then hurt in his body for having missed, Alix will take any affliction that Lady Luck will give her. Pleased with the microscopic amount of damage she's caused, she tries a hail mary pin.

ONE

A tempestuous Bo kicks out like a vengeful giant rising from a slumber. Alix is a left to regret not writing her will before this match began,  because Bo is about to take her on a one way trip to meet the spirit in the sky. Having to think as quick as her drug fried mind will allow, she strikes up a another scheme to the delay the inevitable eating of her brain meat. With plan in hand, she and her furious rival rise at the same moment. Hissing like a serpent, he cocks his nearly basketball sized fist, ready to blast her with a punch that would cave her face upon connection. Thankfully for the multimillion dollar contract she just signed with Revlon, Alix postpones this face caving for just a second longer, by putting up her finger, non verbally telling Bo to cease and desist. The fashionable brawler's face is locked into confusion, as he wonders what's going through the mind of this unorthodox creature.

Ally answers his and the crowd's unstated question, “Sorry, babe. I got a phone call.” Amazingly enough, she's being neither cute nor facetious, as the perky Californian pulls a cellular phone out of her boots and answers an actual call.

“Hello? Oh! Hi, Paris!” She exclaims. “No, I'm not busy at all!” She turns to Bo and rather snobbishly mouthes the words 'Paris Hilton.', then goes back to having a conversation with the wealthy socialite. “Oh my god! She didn't? She did! Oh my god! No way? Way!” Growing increasingly impatient with this delay, Bo rudely taps his chattery adversary on the shoulder, drawing nothing but an admonishing “I'm busy” stare. “Anyway! Oh my god. Did he really? No way? Way! Wow!?” 

In no way shape or form could Bo be more frustrated with the situation. To his perpetual dismay, the girl has zero tolerance for anything that interferes with her inane conversation, such as wrestling a match. He takes a deep breath, making an effort to hold in his temper, as he taps her on the shoulder once more. “What?” She replies icily. “No, not you, Paris. Hold on, I think this guy wants to talk to you. His name? I dunno.”

COACH
Just hit her, Bo!

Alix passes the cellphone to Bo, who timidly holds up to his ear, as he expects some sort of trigger to be pulled and silly string to pop out the receiver and onto his face. “Hello? Wow! It's actually you! I have every episode of the [i]Simple Life[/i] on tape. And I...” ROLLUP BY ALIX!

ONE


TWO

Alix's latest plan meets with unmitigated failure as Bohemoth escapes from her pinning predicament without a shred of difficulty. Having bankrupted her vault of convoluted schemes, Alix is at a loss to establish a way to execute this monstrosity. Then she pleasingly realizes she doesn't have to! Krista can do it! Thus she, with cellphone in hand, marches towards her corner to bring in Krissy to mop up the mess she's created.

COLE
Bohemoth and Krista met a couple weeks ago, with Krista getting the win..

COACH
By DQ, my good man.

Krista, unlike her partner, isn't much for foolheaded schemes, and takes a more reckless (and stupid) approach to dealing with this loathsome foe. She rockets herself golden boots first at Bohemoth with a springboard dropkick. She probably would've had an easier time turning water to wine, because Bo does not budge a single centimeter. 

“Uh? I have a phone call?” Krista says weakly, as she surveys Bo's intimidating person.

Much like The Who, Bo [i]won't get fooled again[/i], and angrily tries to side swipe Krista with a roaring back elbow. Krista spins away from this attack, and puts herself behind his astronomic frame. She horsewhips a series of kicks into his legs, hoping to cut the redwood down to her level. Unfortunately her kicks are less like claw strikes from a Tiger and more like bites from a mosquito. Annoying but altogether harmless. With a  cry of malice, Bo whirls to drive a series of left and right hands into Krista's midsection. The blows are delivered rapidly, the fatal determination he throws them with accentuating the pain ten-fold. Her body rocks against the explosive force, not stopping until he ceases his reprehensible battering. As she's left dazed by his brutalization, Bo has an easy time trapping her into a waistlock. Krista can practically feel the beast's warm breath on her neck. He leans back and hoists her over him, trying to drop her on her neck with a  German Suplex. But the agile lady delights the worried fans by flipping out of his deadly suplex. She lands solidly on her feet, but her chances of survival are still tenuous at best. Bo rises, and immediately gives chase, fangs bared, eager to tear her to shreds. Krista fights for her life, leaping into the sky and twisting with a spinning back kick. As she lands on her feet, her body's already in the process of rotating into another back kick. CRAACK! The sound of her boot hitting his flesh echoes throughout the smoky venue. His bulk tumbles end over end, splashing into canvas. Yet the Meterosexual Monster is up as quick as he fell, snorting and growling like a deranged werewolf as he rests on a knee. Years of hard earned battle experience kick in, and Krista tears towards the ropes, soaring into the air upon returning to her enemy. She arcs over Bo's looming knee, and slashes his face with a brutal high knee lift. Agony riddles Bo's ringing skull, and he slowly drops backwards only seconds before Krista carries herself to the next set of ropes. Taking a page out of Alix's book, she ascends to the top cable, and uses it as a launching pad to project her lionsaulting body at a mat based Bo. But the Upstart has recovered from her whirlwind of kicks, and deftly rolls away from his descending opponent. To the audience's relief, Krista avoids a catastrophic crash into the mats, by making an off-balance landing on her feet. She teeters backwards, and has to make an effort to get her wobbly frame under control. Problematically, Bo is in hot pursuit of her like the proverbial hound out of hell. Feral tenacity lending strength to his attack, he flattens her with a diving lariat, that has the crowd shuddering for their fallen heroine. Bo casually drapes an arm across her chest for a pinfall.

ONE

TWO

Krista kicks out, bringing a depressed growl from Bo's lips and a cheer from the pleased fans. Summoning an aura of steely rage, Bo grabs Miss California by her golden locks and  stuffs her between his legs for a standing headscissors. His arms tightly lock around her waist, hurting worse then even barbwire.  Pain gives way to horror on her countenance as he tries to lift her up for a deadly pile driver. Krista fights for dear life. Sweaty and out of breath, she wildly kicks her legs, barely managing to set them back down to the mat. But her salvation has a short shelf life, as Bo, cheeks flushed with a hollowed red, merely tightens his hold and successfully brings her onto his expansive shoulders. The blonde bombshell isn't ready to concede defeat in spite of the horrific position she finds herself in. She laces her long legs around his tree trunk thick neck, hoping that they'll bestow her the ability to launch a reversal. But Bo stays strong, firmly able to powerbomb her whenever he should see fit. Unfortunately for his team, Bo seems to enjoy the -ahem- scent of a woman just a wee bit too much and lingers in this enviable position for a few seconds longer then she should. These few seconds allow a disturbed and peeved Krista to peel backwards, and turn Bo head over heels with a crowd popping hurricanrana! Being wise enough to realize she won't pin Bo with any flashy rollup, she stands up before Robinson can count a pin, and attempts to turn his face into mush with a double stomp! Just like her body, her rising spirits plummet downwards, when the big man pulls his face out of the collision course. Over on the ring apron, Wright very loudly berates Bo for getting himself into that position in the first place.

COACH
Nice, man, nice! See, If Bo can get this grappling game on lock, he can own this fed. 

Krista's face freezes as she struggles to conceal her horrified disappointment towards the South Carolina native's avoidance. Bo stands up, looking unhurt by her series of offense. Snarling, he angrily backhands  Miss California so hard she nearly blacks out. Her dizzied head lolls to a side, and her vision swirls into a chaotic blur. Bohemoth's black eyes shoot her one last dirty look before he applies her into a suffocating front facelock. Her body, already bruised and aching from his rough treatment, writhes frantically against her jailer. But this valiant escape effort does nothing but waste her precious energy, for Bo will not be overcome. He lifts her up, suspending her like she's in a diabolical torture device. She braces for the awful attack she knows is coming. Yet no amount of preparation could steel her for the searing pain she encounters as he sinks to the mat, stabbing her neck into the canvas with the [b]Bo and Arrow[/b] (Falcon Arrow). Bo hooks the legs for a pin.

ONE

TWO

But Krista kicks out strongly, whipping the onlookers into a frenzy, and surprising Bohemoth after the fact that he nearly murdered her. The ghoulish grappler rises, and immediately slices at her defenseless flesh, planting an elbow into her exposed stomach. A lupine howl pushes through his lips while he pulls her upright. He hurls her to ropes, where she uses what's left off her depleted strength to scale to the top cable and gracefully rips towards him like an Olympic-class acrobat with a lionsault. But Bo swiftly and uniquely catches her legs in a wheelbarrow type position at the finale of her descent. On the ring apron, panic floods Alix's face as she realizes what terrible activity is soon to transpire. Krista's terror stricken eyes meet her's, leading distressed Alix to try and enter the ring to save her best friend. But Robinson holds Spezia back, giving the gargoyle free reign to unleash whatever destructive move he has in store. Krista strains with all her might, working herself into a lather of sweat and tears, but there's not a damn thing she can do to save herself from this hellion. Bohemoth lifts Kris up like he's going for a wheelbarrow suplex, then dangles her over the ropes, so that Wright may skate across the apron, and pulverize her face with a running knee lift! This savage attack rockets Krista's body upright, easily permitting Bo to destroy her with the teased wheelbarrow suplex. Krista hits the mat with troubling impact, and her hoarse screams join Alix's own raspy cries of sorrow.

“LET'S GO KRISTA! LET'S GO KRISTA!” sing the fans.

Bo has the recipient of the fans' love on her feet, and puts her on a path to a neutral corner. A painful thunder booms loudly inside her back as she connects with the steel of the ringposts. The brawler quickly blitzes his smaller rival, seeking to liquefy her vulnerable flesh with a body splash. However Krista defiantly wars against this attack, lunging at her incoming persecutor with an iron hard elbow! As Alix and the audience applaud this show of gumption, Bohemoth recoils from the woman's strike, stumbling backwards across the ring. With her wet hair dangling in front of her like yellow decorative streamers, and rage surging volcanically through her veins, Krissy furiously advances to the leviathan. However Bohemoth meets her onslaught by thrusting the former tag champ into the sky with a back body drop! The agony of her landing crashes against her like a rain of molten lava, as her battered form lies on the canvas, panting and gasping for whatever air will come to her.

“See, Miss Isadora Duncan?” Wright cockily remarks. “You have reaped what you sow!”

Bohemoth steps towards her and grabs her hair, and pulls her upright. He brutally yanks her head back allowing himself a full view of her pulped and suffering face. Bo's own face wrinkles in disgust as his fist and knees slam into her badly traumatized form. Yet somehow Krista is able to respond with supernatural speed and tumult, sending heavy chops slicing through the air at the beast. Perspiration, flashing darkly under the glow of the arena lights, skirts off his beefy chest as each chop connects with pin point accuracy. A look of genuine grief flashes upon him, and that moment of weakness brings an eternity's worth of anger. It's with that outrage that he grips onto her thin wrist and throws her into ring cables. Krista returns to him and is launched her into space like a NASA shuttle with a flap jack! Yet, Krista's agility proves to be too much for his basic move to withstand, and she extends her leg forward, pressing it across Bo's neck and pushing the sorrowful warrior down with a modified rocker dropper!

“YEAAAAAA!”

Bo rests on one knee, his parched throat to dry to utter even the softest of growl. The dizziness from her attack is intense and getting stronger by the second. He faintly hears a perturbed Wright off in the distance cruelly ordering him to halt her ascension to the top turnbuckle. But by the time he can piece together the demands of his nervous leader, her splendid form is closing in on him with a missile dropkick! Forced to react with speed,  the normally lumbering brute quickly steps away from the bomb that's about to explode on him. With Bo out of the way, Krista catches poor Charles Robinson square in the chest, connecting with a highly gruesome crunch. The poleaxed official crumples to the mat, rendered ineffective for the time being.

CABOOSE
We've got a man down! 

COACH
Good. Now Christian can cheat. You know he's going to do it, might as well be upfront about it. Go on boi!

Rabid boot steps are heard  bouncing across the ring, as Christian Wright, taking advantage of the referee's incapacitation has returned to the fracas. Shaking with fury, the Moral High ground boils towards Krista, eager to make her pay for the earlier humiliation she brought him. Yet things play out slightly differently in the warzone then they have in Wright's mind. His screams explode outward as [b]Alix Spezia[/b] knocks the regal superstar off his feet with a gorgeous shinning wizard! Grunting and wailing, Wright slowly rolls to the edge of the ring where he'll have to formulate a new mode of attack against these harlots. 

“ALIX! ALIX! ALIX!” scream the audience, every last one of them on their feet.

Krista and Alix give each other exuberant high fives. However their's and the crowd's good feelings last but a moment, as the six foot seven Bohemoth, arises from his stupor to lacerate both ladies with a vulgar double clothesline.

COACH
Yes! Yes! That's what weighing two hundred and eighty seven pounds will do for you.

Angry black eyes glare down at the fan favorites, and a low rumble begins in Bo's broad chest, angrily deepening in cadence. He positions himself at their submissive sides, then in a not so subtle jab at Alix, rapidly wiggles voluminous derriere, making the crowd vocal with disgust. Their revulsion is so strong that they can't even bring themselves to pay due respect to his awe inspiring standing moonsault. However the loathing fans are given a reason to turn their frowns upside down, as the girls suck their feet into their chests, defending against Bo's arrogant move and rocking his torso with explosive pain!

COACH
Son of a! If he hadn't been shaking his ass like he's in a Lil Wayne video this match would've been over! You ain't Trina! You ain't Lil Kim! You ain't even Christina Milian, son!

Seething at COD's treachery, Bohemoth rises, surging toward them with another double lariat. His claws flail wildly as his furious jaw snaps at the empty air. Sadly for The Upstarts, Bo's  second clothesline is much less successful then his previous. Kris and Al “matrix” underneath his strike, leaving the arms he was wielding like scalpels to be as deadly as feathers. Wasting no time, the lovely ladies from La-La Land kip up and slash their boots across the noggin of the returning mammoth with twin enziguris. Caught between the pair, Bohemoth has less then a second to react before their designer [i]Guess?[/i] pumps rip into him, rending the back of his skull like toilet tissue. He flops over onto his back laying at a shredded heap at their feet. Alix sees this a wondrous opportunity to show Bo how [i]real[/i] laffy-taffy shakes, and happily invites Krista to jiggle along. Unsurprisingly, Krista heatedly refuses the request, which causes a deeply offended Alix to whine like an unwashed baby. Eager to get back to whupping Bo and Christian's ass, Krista caves in to shut Alix up. The girls get all bouncey-wouncey with their booties, whipping the arena audience's libido into overdrive and sending the home audience running for the Johnson&Johnson and box of Charmin. You can't not think of enough baseball stats to contain the WOOD this buttastic exhibition has given you. Did you know Cal Ripken Jr has 1695 career RBIs? Nope, you still have a boner. Once they're done with their pants integrity destroying rump shaking, the pair flip backwards with double standing moonsaults!

“C-O-D! C-O-D!”

Making a hissing noise that isn't even remotely human, Christian Wright reinserts himself into the fracas, unwilling to concede defeat at the hands of these immoral witches. Roaring like an entire pride of Lions, he lunges at the baby faces with a yakuza kick. By sheer chance he targets this strike at Alix, slamming into her like a bullet train and knocking her backwards into the waiting ropes. An all consuming wrath possesses him as he turns to deal with a fuming Krista Isadora Duncan. But this bobcat won't be as easily tamed as her bosom buddy. He swoops at her with a punch, eager to tear apart her face with one fiery blow.

Edited April 3, 2006 by Patty O'Green

[Patty O'Green 0]

And the equally horrible finale

 

But Krista blocks the assault with a whirlwind like back kick, that doubles the conceited gladiator over and throws him at the mercy of her court. Judge Krista sentences him to death by double side Russian Leg sweep. Sje grapples onto one arm, while a slightly recovered Alix hooks the other. Putting a unique twist on a pedestrian move, the off-beat duo and their unwitting dupe perform a majestic front flip, causing the fans to raise up a titanic cheer for their innovation! While the girls stand up to bow to their fans, Wright lays in moaning fragments on the gritty ring floor. Miss California laughs cruelly, savoring the anguished expression on his visage.

COLE
Oh what a move!

Speaking of titanic,a man who could've sunk the boat of that name by his lonesome is making his way to the top rope. Perhaps emboldened by the fact he didn't break any bones on his moonsault, Bohemoth is launching an aerial salvo that's sure to literally crush COD if successful. His grimy face twisted in lupine rage, he brandishes his arms in berserk fury as he readies himself for what should be a highlight reel worthy top rope double lariat. The problem is that Ally and Krissy aren't willing to be his personal crash test dummies. Thus they converge on the turnbuckles he's perched on. Before he can react, they shake the ropes, dislodging the king like eagle from his nest and plunging him crotch first onto the top pad! The ear splitting howl of the mortally wounded beast drowns out the rest of world, if only for a few seconds.

“YEAAAAAAAAA!” scream the audience, who are tickled with delight at Bo's misfortune.

Sly smiles pass on the girls' prepossessing features as they nod to each other, having the same insidious little thought. The two women scale the ropes, and the audience hollers in passionate anticipation. Yet their gratification is seemingly delayed indefinitely, when that vexatious Mister Wright, badly bruised face and all, yanks Alix off the turnbuckles. Bo breathes a heavy sigh of relief at his partner's heroic return. Ally lands perfectly on her feet, which is just to Wright's liking as it puts her in an excellent spot for him to gain a glimmer of revenge by pasting her with a right cross. Unfortunately Alix's speed is too much for his slow travellling fist, and she plasters him with a dangerous superkick! The volatile missile impacts gruesomely on the man's chin and propels the overwhelmed pugilist and his loosened teeth over the cables to the ring floor. Wright's busted body lies on the black mats, contorting in a series of shock induced spasms.

“WRIGHT SUCKS! WRIGHT SUCKS!” bleat the observers.

All this commotion has delayed the gal's double team move and permitted Bohemoth to return to his typically formidable form. He ruefully shoves Krista away from his body, and begins rising to his magnificent six feet seven inches. Alix thankfully catches Krista, as the king of the OAOAST jungle prepares to dismount his throne. Spreading his arms like unsheathed sabres, he surges from the turnbuckles, looking to cleave the ladies with his double lariat! But to the audience's glee, they duck  the potential beheading! Bo lands squarely on his black boots, placing himself into the quite the unenviable predicament! His back is turned to his hated adversaries and they have no qualms about exploiting this atrocious position. Stereo dropkicks percuss into his shoulder blades with immeasurable force, pushing the caught unaware fighter into the ropes. He muzzily teeters on the cables, the depressing nature of being at COD's mercy washing over him like a bitter tidal wave. Unfortunately the problems continue to accumulate for the shellacked  tanker, as who else should see him in his moment's vulnerability then Moracca, the luchadore he so cruelly clotheslined earlier in the match. Feeling that revenge is a dish best served cold [i]and[/i] sparkly, a giggling Moracca hops onto the ring apron and sweetly creeps towards Bohemoth. In his weakened and somewhat delirious state of mind, Bo actually believes that Moracca has come to assist him, and utters a genuine thank you towards the good Samaritan. Picture the abject horror that's written across Bo's countenance when Moracca venomously chucks a wad of [b][color=#3333CC]gli[/color][color=#FF3399]tter[/color][/b] into his face!

COACH
Get that fruit out of here! Sweet Virgin Mary, I'm about to blow chunks!

CABOOSE
Don't you get it? Los Diablos are COD's fairy god mothers. And a fairy god mother always watches out for her “children”.

“YOU CAN'T SEE SHIT! YOU CAN'T SEE SHIT!!” echo the audience towards Bo, as Moracca hops off the apron and triumphantly pumps his crotch at the cheering fans.

A livid red burning painfully perverts Bo's glitter soaked eyes, blinding the combatant and cutting the giant oak tree down to a harmless daisy. Unable to tell what's what or who's who, he's an appetizing feast for a blood lusting Krista. She wraps her hands around his sparkling face, and thunderclaps the giant into the unforgiving canvas with her oddly named finisher the [b]Elizabeth? I'm coming to join ya, honey! It's the big one![/b] (reverse face crusher)! The impact of the move earthquakes the surrounding area, and besieges Bohemoth with constraining woe.  The rambunctious onlookers erupt in unison upon the extraordinary completion of KID's finisher, while their fairy god mothers, Los Diablos, clap on the outside.

COACH
No! Somebody, anybody, do something!

Krista lays over Bo's sprawled out carcass for a pin. Alix makes it especially difficult for Bo to kick out by sitting on top of Krista. She crosses her legs and pantomimes smoking a cigarette to show how “easy” winning this affair was. Conveniently for the girls, Charles Robinson chooses this exact moment to stop playing Sleeping Beauty and start playing referee. He crawls over to the pinning scene and makes the count...

CROWD
ONE

CROWD
TWO

CROWD
THREE

[B]“YEAAAAAAAAAH!"[/B]

COLE
Alright! Christian Wright for all his tough talk was turned ineffectual at the end of this match, and Alix and Krista

[i]And Then We Kiss[/i] takes a familiar position as the victorious theme song, as the euphoric audience members exchange high fives for a victory they had absolutely nothing to do with. The elated girls pass along celebratory hugs for their hard fought success. Unfortunately the mood turns dour when Alix remarks that somebody needs a shower. Krista storms off in a huff, forcing Alix to chase after her with half hearted apologies. Los Diablos and their men clear out, heading backstage for some uh...private Anglemania moments.

CABOOSE
I'd like to say I'm surprised Bohemoth blew it again, but I'm not. Beaten and outsmarted by a luchadore in a fairy costume and two women who don't weigh as much as him combined. I wonder if Axel is drawing up the man's release papers?