LA: RFTG II

[King Cucaracha 0]

We leave Indianapolis and go all the way across the US of A to Los Angeles, Californ-i-a. Our image is that of Krista Isadora Duncan's front lawn, where crisp patterns of finely manicured greenery play out across a solid ground of pebbles, sand, and brick. 

[img=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/krisfront.jpg]
The house in all it's splendor.

Situated at the edge of estate behind a white ribbon and underneath a sign marked “FINISH” is the coveted 24/7 title. Sitting next to the finish line in two lawn chairs are our announcers for this unusual contest....

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/doublet.jpg]
Terry Taylor!

And

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/kri.jpg]
Krista Isadora Duncan!

TAYLOR
Whew! It's Run For The Gold time! This match probably would've been on sooner, but well, Krista and I had a bit of a uh, well, a nooner.

KRISTA
LIES! You had a “nooner”. I had an inadvertent front row seat and that's the last time I allow you into my bedroom. Fixing the loose knob on my underwear drawer my ass.

TAYLOR
Well! Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to land of the rich and famous, Beverly Hills, California! We are at the glamorous estate of Hollywood superstar, Krista Isadora Duncan, for the second annual Run for the Gold! This year it's the 24/7 title that is on the line! Krista, you look ravishing tonight.

KRISTA
I always look ravishing. When I was girl and I won Miss Teen California, they said I looked like a young Ava Gardner. 

TAYLOR
I never knew you won Miss Teen California.

KRISTA
Oh sure, a few of the other girls met with unfortunate and bloody endings just days before the contest began, and sure the DA may have wanted to link the bloody ax the cops found in my room to the murders, but a jury of my peers found the weapon to be purely coincidental and acquitted me on all charges.

TAYLOR
(going pale)
That story was a joke, right?

KRISTA
Maybe so, maybe no. The point is I've always been ravishing. Even as a fetus I was gorgeous. My sonogram could've been a Playboy Centerfold. A lot of people say I look like Charlize Theron. Wrong. Krista never imitates. Charlize stole her appearance from me. But I begrudge her nothing. If you're going to copy someone, make it the most gorgeous person in America. Me. I'm beautiful, I could get a priest to ditch his vow of celibacy with a wink of my eye. I could make an archbishop buy a lap dance.

Krista pulls out a compact mirror and begins to admire herself. When she gets like this it's pretty much impossible to get her to focus on anything but herself so Terry takes over.

TAYLOR
Well, then! Fans, the rules of a Run For The Gold are easy to understand. Each wrestler starts off in the back yard, and will race to the rear entrance of Krista's mansion. Once inside the house, they have to make their way out into the front yard, and head to the finish line. The first person to cross the finish line is the 24/7 champion! Let's go to the backyard for the start of the contest!

KRISTA
(speaking to her reflection in baby talk)
Aren't you just the cutest little thing? Yes you are! Yes you are! Mommy, loves you so much. Yes she does. Yes she does!

We're given a birds eye view of Krista's spacious rear yard, showing us how much ground the wrestlers have to cover before they reach the house. Dutifully attending to Krista's golf course worthy lawn are a fleet of gardeners. Somehow these men remain oblivious to the fact that a wrestling match is about to occur in their work space, despite the presence of camera crews, referees, and half naked muscular men. Regardless of the lawn care workers questionable state of mind, the show must go on! Thus we throw it over to little Maya Olivia Myrick (Myrick being Krista's real last name), for the opening introductions.

MAYA
The following contest is a run for the gold for the two hundred forty seven title! Am I really on TV? Can I say hi to my friend Susan? Hi Susan, I'm on TV!

KRISTA
That's my girl! She's wonderful, isn't she, Terry?

TERRY
She's adorable, Krista, you should be proud.

MAYA
The first wrestler is from Venice Beach, California! Hey, I'm from California! We're from the same state! This man weighs two hundred twenty five pounds, and his name is Biff Atlas! My Aunt Clara lives in Venice Beach, do you know my Aunt Clara?

Biff, dressed in a ludicrous straw hula skirt, and matching vine ankle bracelets, does an even more ludicrous hula dance, to no one's delight.

MAYA
The second wrestler is from Fort Lauderdale, Florida! He's two hundred and sixty seven pounds! His name is Flex Phillips. Hi, Flex, it's nice to meet you!

Wearing his usual aqua colored wrestling trunks, Flex strikes a pose that's intended on being menacing, but couldn't intimidate a small child. And it doesn't, because Maya laughs at him. 

MAYA
The third wrestler is my third favorite wrestler in the whole wide world, I have a poster of him hanging on my wall. He's also from California, like me, but he lives in Laguna Beach which is a couple miles down the road in Orange County. I told mommy I wanna go, but she says she doesn't want to drive on highway five traffic. Anyway he weighs one hundred and ninety pounds. He is Melvin Nerdly! Do you think we can hang out after your race is over, Melvin? Maybe we can go to the mall with my friend Susan!

Melvin, sporting his usual white jeans with paint splotches, blows a kiss to Maya who goes absolutely gaga over the gesture.

MAYA
The fourth wrestler is also my third favorite wrestler, and he's from Laguna Beach also, but he wasn't on the TV show [i]Laguna Beach[/i], which I really like because I think Stephen is hot. But I think Marvin is hot also. Ooops, I just said his name. Sorry! Do you wanna go to the mall with me and Melvin, Marvin? You can be Susan's date and we can double date and go see a movie. But mommy says I'm not allowed to go out on a date until I'm forty five. 

Wearing the same outfit as his brother, Marvin Nerdly bows to his adoring fan, while Flex scoffs in the background.

MAYA
The next guy is from Grand Rapids which is in Michigan. And he's Jade's brother, and I like Jade, she's really funny and nice, and she sends me postcards from different places, and she's just awesome. Her brother's weight is two hundred and twenty eight pounds, and his name is the douche!

KRISTA
Oh lord, I see that she's been eavesdropping on my phone conversations again. 

Leon, outfitted in white tennis shoes and black workout pants, just holds his head down and sighs. Phillips sizes Leon up with a murderous glare, no doubt branding the babyface as the man who stands the greatest chance of challenging him for the 24/7 title.

MAYA
Finally it's my Auntie Alix! She's the champ! She's from LA just like me. Hi, Auntie Alix! 

Alix, in a grey t-shirt that reads [b]I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND[/B] and a denim mini skirt, waves to little Maya.

KRISTA
Great job, Maya! Well done, sweetie!

MAYA
Auntie Alix, are you ready? Melvin, are you ready? Marvin, are you ready? Douche, are you ready? Other two guys, are you ready? Then on your mark....get set.....GO!

[B]BANG!!!![/B]

A nearby referee fires a pistol, commencing this unorthodox race. The warriors zoom towards the house, knowing that the object of their desires lies beyond that complex and in the front yard. Leon seems to move the fastest, and manages to create quite a bit of distance between himself and the pack. A sly smile slips onto his face as it's starting to look like regaining the 24/7 title might be a little easier then he thought. Unfortunately he's unable to leave his slow poke enemies in the dust because a gardener on a John Deere riding mower recklessly zip in front of him, nearly slicing his feet off! A quick moving Rodez narrowly escapes the catastrophic disaster. Although he's not one to get angry, Leon can certainly think of a few choice words to hurl at the bothersome fellow.

KRISTA
Pedro, you fool! He's not Kuta Kente! This isn't Roots! Don't chop his foot off! Get the weed wacker, and go for the throat, damn it!

Patience all but depleted, Leon prepares to yell at the intrusive twit to move out of the way. But what winds up leaving his lips is a loud “Ooomph” as Flex Phillips floors him with a lariat to the back! Flex's ally, Biff, stops his own pursuit of the title long enough to see if his partner needs any assistance in obliterating the grounded Rodez. But Flex assures him that he has everything under his sinister control, and Biff trots away to attend to his own creepy business.

TAYLOR
Flex had his eye on Leon this whole time. Even before the race started he was sizing him up. I think he knows that Leon is his main competition.

While Rodez writhes in anguish on the lush greenery, Flex roughly yanks the bewildered gardener off the mower in order to commandeer it for his own purposes. He ignores the grousing of the worker, and hops onto the vehicle's yellow seat while eying Leon with predatory intent. The engine purrs ominously, and it becomes readily apparent that Phillips is planning to use the mower's blades to turn poor Leon into silky smooth hamburger! 

TAYLOR
Kris, he wouldn't!

KRISTA
Oh, yes he would. Now if there was a celebrity homicide in my backyard, would that increase or decrease my property value?

Alix, sharply aware of Flex's aim, bravely darts across the lawn to aid Leon, who's fear seems to have rooted him in his spot. She springs into the air and lands perfectly on Flex's expansive back, taking the steroid charged meathead by surprise. As veins of anger erupt on her forehead, she tangles her arms around his thick neck, choking him out in revenge for trying to [i]kill[/i] Leon. The sudden shock of having an extra one hundred and thirty pounds on his back, and a vice grip on his neck, saturates Flex with panic. This panic clouds his thought process and provokes him to slam on the accelerator in an unwise effort to ditch the bubbly redhead. The vehicle angrily careens forward like a bumper car, nearly reducing the workers, who are scarcely able to avoid it's chaotic path, to bits and pieces. The mower zooms past the fallen and frightened workers, and takes itself on a kamikaze trip towards the swimming pool. Leon's alarmed eyes watch in sheer horror as Alix and Flex fail miserably in their final effort to steer the green beast away from the blue lagoon.

KRISTA
Ah, the pool. A drunk Chad Smith of the Red Hot Chili Peppers once did a cannonball off the roof of the cabana all the way to the pool. The pool wasn't filled with water at the time.

Screams of horror spew from the lips of Alix and Flex as they dive over the edge of the pool, and into the chlorine filled abyss. A pillar of water erupts when the duo and their automobile plunge into the depths of the aquatic void. Their shouting is muffled thanks to the mass of water that invades their lungs. All traces of them, both audio and visual, disappear beneath the shimmering ocean. A bewildered fog seems to settle over Leon's glassy eyes. He looks around, not fully comprehending what just happened to his girlfriend or the man who was seeking to chop him into bits.

KRISTA
Oh no! Alix! Jesus Christ, Terry! Do you think she's okay?!

TAYLOR
I don't know, it looked like she kind of managed to dive off at the last second, and go into the pool on her own, unlike Flex Phillips...

KRISTA
Who the hell is Flex Phillips? Stop making things up and focus, man, focus! My poor Alix!

Back on land, Marvin Nerdly is pursuing the crown prince of hair care, Biff Atlas, across the lawn. The Western Canadian quickly gains on the fleeing hair fetishist, his legs a blur of superhuman speed, hurling him after his adversary. Within seconds both wrestlers reach the entrance of the tennis court, where Marv makes sure to note the tennis ball machine resting behind the net.

TAYLOR
(looking around)
Hey, what's that barking sound?

KRISTA
Oh, my puppy is flirting with my rabbit again.

TAYLOR
Doesn't he know that's a male rabbit?

KRISTA
Don't judge my puppy.

Tapping hidden reserves of strength and speed, Marvin lunges forward and tackles Atlas. His arms grip tightly onto the bodybuilder and they topple into the entrance of the court, their combined momentum knocking the chain link door off it's hinges! 

KRISTA
Ding ding ding ding dong!

TAYLOR
What are you doing?

KRISTA
I always thought that door should have a bell that goes off when you open it. And now it does. Ding ding ding dong! Unfortunately now the door is on the ground, rendering my bell sound effects obsolete.

Locked in a mortal death grip, the pair go flying into the court, and nose dive onto the cement surface. The vicious landing violently separates the brawlers, and they roll away from each other before scrambling to their feet. The warriors face off in the center of the court, flaunting demonic fangs and clenched fists, eager to pound each other into submission. Marv feels a sudden pang of vulnerability as he watches his rival pick up a nearby tennis racket. 

“Fore!” Biff screams, unaware that you say “fore” in golf, not tennis. Regardless of his dimwitted comments, Atlas makes like Venus Williams and sends an overhand smash into Marvin's skull, ripping shockwaves of pain throughout his slender body.

KRISTA
Ah, the racket! 

TAYLOR
Let me guess, signed by Pete Sampras and given to you as a birthday gift by Debbie Harry of Blondie.

KRISTA
Actually I found it in a dumpster in San Diego. And a dumpster is where I'll leave your battered and beaten body if you ever sass me like that again. Wu-Tang forever, Terry.

Having now discarded the racket, Biff coils his hands around the Laguna Beach native's throat and casually chucks him over the net! Upon landing Marv finds himself rolling down the court, and the rough surface slices through his skin, opening tiny cuts on his arm. However he's able to halt his spiraling retreat and he springs to his feet, where he meets Biff, who's stepping over the net, with a frenzy of forearm smashes. Yet these rapid fire shots do little to damage Atlas, and with one mighty swing of his fist he sends Marvin plumetting to the ground.  Now lying in a heap of baby oil, expensive jeans, and high lighted hair, The Marv painfully wonders if he's just been hit by a punch or a runaway train. Runaway train never coming back. Wrong way on a one way track. Seems like I should be getting somewhere. Somehow I'm neither here nor there.

TAYLOR
I could be wrong, but I have the feeling that NRG could be the next breakout team here in the OAOAST.

KRISTA
Are you for real? Do they actually pay you to spout these nuggets of utter stupidity? One of 'em just drove a lawn mower into my swimming pool, and the other is wearing a hula skirt that's two sizes too short on the same day he decided to free ball it.

TAYLOR
It's just a matter of opinion, Kris.

KRISTA
No, it's a matter of you smoking rocks. Are we going to have our next run for the gold when we visit you in rehab? Lord knows, I'll be headed there soon. Maybe we can be roommates. We can be the rehab version of Laverne and Shirley. (singing) One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, schlimiel, schlimazel, hasenpfeffer, incorporated. We're gonna do it! 

Atlas reaches down, clamps his hand around Nerdly's throat, and drags him upwards. He extends the hunky grappler out, smiling ruefully while Marv's talons slash against the arm that holds him aloft. Suddenly a sharp pain rings around Biff's body, as a mysterious object crashes into his lower back. Atlas groans nosily as his back is struck three more times by the unidentified tools of destruction. The unexpected emergence of the weapons momentarily confuses Atlas. And the second of uncertainty causes his hold on Marv to loosen just enough to permit the Sk8r to worm his way free of the embrace. Marv lands perfectly on his Nike sneakers and shouts, “Dodge this!” right before he unloads on Biff with a superkick. Marv's shoe collides with a dumbfounded Biff full on, lifting him clear off his bare feet, and propelling him backwards. Fortunately the net manages to break Biff's fall, otherwise his tanned skin would've been shredded by the green cement surface. With Atlas out of the way, the camera is able to show us who and what saved Marvin from Biff's chokeslam. Marvin's savior is none other then his twin brother, Melvin, who's manning the tennis ball machine that rocketed yellow balls at Biff.

“Thanks, dude!” Marvin hollers.

Rather then simply say “no problem”, which would be the brotherly thing to do, Melvin responds by shooting a tennis ball at Marvin, nailing him square in the kneecap.

“Owwwww!” A hobbling Marvin bellows, half out of pain, half out of shock. “What the hell do you think you're doing, eh? I'm your brother, you faggot!”

“And how can I be sure of that?” Melvin remarks suspiciously, crouching behind his missile launcher like some kind of guerrilla solider. “I see no proof to verify your claim of brotherhood.” 

“What?! I look exactly like you, dickhead!”

“How very convenient! But as long you're going after my 24/7 title, you ain't kin.”

Discarding the last of his brotherly love, Melvin aims his ball shooter at a ranting and raving Marvin and cruelly fires away. The first shot impacts gruesomely into Marv's testicles, and his distressed howls crackle through the Californian skies. Showing little remorse, Melvin unleashes another volley, this time blasting his poor brother in the middle of the forehead, knocking the sense out of the twenty year old. Marvin timbers sideways, while his vibrant brown eyes dives into the back of his head. Melvin's blackened soul can generate little sympathy for his wounded sibling, and he simply guffaws at the misfortune's he's caused.

TAYLOR
Kris, Melvin really wants that 24/7 title.

KRISTA
He wants your heart. He wants to eat your children. Praise be to Allah!

Hell Mel's moment of glory evaporates when he spots a suspicious figure atop the courtside umpire's chair, striking a “Christ in Rio” pose. Unwilling to bear this creature's flamboyant foolishness, Melvin demands that he come down and face him like a man before he (Melvin) decides to get into that West Coast Gangster shit.

TAYLOR
Who's up there, Kris?

KRISTA
It could be my tennis coach Lise. She's french!

TAYLOR
(snickering)
I bet you really like servicing her....hehheheh... grass court, if you know what I mean. I bet you..heehhehe..would like to get that French [i]open[/i]. Heheheheh!

KRISTA
Okay, time for you to die.

While Krista proceeds to strangle the Rooster for his off color comments, the camera pans out to expose the mysterious intruder, revealing him to be none other then ......

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/kingsoul.jpg]

The soul stealing King launches himself off the ten foot chair with a MEATNORMOUS diving clothesline! His forearm slashes through Melvin's finely sculpted chest, driving the Boi to the ground! The overwhelmed Nerdly tumbles backwards, before agilely springing to his feet. Refusing to be defeated by this meddlesome corporate pitchman, Melvin hastily scrambles to his trusty tennis ball machine. But before he can unload a flurry of projectiles at his foe, The BK King leaps into the sky, clears the near five foot machine, and slams an EGGNORMOUS dropkick into Melvin's cute face! Moaning in agony, Hell Mel dives backwards, and wonders what he's done to deserve being humiliated by a fast food mascot that ceased being popular and entertaining four months ago.

KRISTA
I can't believe I've whored myself out to crass consumerism and blatant attempts to manipulate the viewer's mind with disgusting product placement. I'm so ashamed of myself. I have a headache.

TAYLOR
Here, Krista. Try these.

(Terry puts two Nuprin pills into Krista's hand.)

KRISTA
Nuprin. Little. Yellow. Different. Better. I mean, it's just a shame that my house has been sold out to fat cat marketing gimmicks from Madison Avenue. It's all about bowing to the almighty corporate dollar, and that's just really sad. It's like advertising his taken it's grip on all that we hold sacred, and I don't want any part of it.

TAYLOR 
Krista, I'm kind of hungry.

KRISTA
(handing Terry a hamburger)
Here, have this Junior Cheeseburger Deluxe from Wendys. Do what tastes right. Oh man, I'm stealing comedy routines from [i]Wayne's World[/i]. The end of my gainful employment is near.

Back on the court, The King is doing a celebratory cabbage patch dance above his vanquished adversary. However his busting of the proverbial move is cut short when a recovered Biff Atlas drives a forearm into the back his regal robe. The King reacts not with hurt or shock, but with incredulity, and he demands to know the identity of the fool who has interrupted his getting jiggy with it. He turns around for the answer, only to have his vision flooded with Biff's incoming fist! But the King responds with supernatural speed and swiftly blocks Biff's punch with his forearm. Atlas recoils, his own forearm vibrating from the tremendous impact. The King points a menacing finger at him, informing Atlas that his mortal soul will pay the price for his grave misdeeds. 

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/thecreepyburgerking.jpg]

A now sobbing Biff passionately implores the royal pitchman to spare his meager life. But his pathetic whining falls on the King's deaf ears. And the bearded mascot lays down his own brand of charbroiled justice by sticking a CHEESENORMOUS fist into Biff's gut. The [i]whopper[/i] (lol!) of a boot doubles Biffy over and leaves him weeping like a baby deprived of his pacifier. Once again Biff puts forward a desperate plea for mercy, offering a variety of sexual favors in exchange for a guarantee of safety. But The King answers these calls for leniency with a harsh roundhouse kick to the knee. Biff cries out in despair, and reaches down to attend to his knee. But this position makes him a sitting duck and The King is quick to exploit Biff's vulnerability, surging forward and pasting him with a big boot! A floored Atlas immediately curls into a fetal position, and jams his thumb into his mouth while he prays for his mommy to come rescue him from this perpetually grinning psychopath.

KRISTA
(no longer paying attention to the stupidity in her backyard)
Hmmmm. I hope no one goes into the living room, I think there are mutant rats living in there now! I swear one of them asked me if I knew the lyrics to [i]Subterranean Homesick Blues[/i].

The King has nary a second to celebrate his crushing of the OAOAST's worst wrestler due to the fact that a recovered Marvin Nerdly is swinging a [i]tennis racket[/i] at his crown! The King successfully manages to duck just in time, leaving the racket to whoosh harmlessly above him. Unfortunately for The King the momentum of his avoidance carries him around 180 degrees into the waiting arms of [i]Melvin[/i] Nerdly. Before The King can attempt to mount a suitable defense, Melvin pulverizes him with a [b]Mel's Shocker[/b]! The King's body crunches hard against the pavement, eighty-sixing the c-list celeb's brief foray into the world of pro wrestling.

TAYLOR
The king has been dethroned.

Thankful for the assistance and ready to let bygones be bygones, Marvin extends his hand to Mel and says, “Brothers?”

Without hesitation, Melvin embraces Marv's hand and responds with a rousing proclamation of “Brothers!” Unfortunately the heart warming display is short lived, thanks to Melvin pulling a confused Marvin towards him, grabbing onto his waist and destroying him with the [b]Mel's Shocker[/b]! Marvin responds with tortured groans that simply elicit a round of shameful giggles from Melvin. 

“Sorry, bro. But, that's my belt out front.” He remarks, dusting off his jeans and surveying the considerable carnage. Melvin leaves the broken husks of Biff, Marvin, and The King in his wake, as he scampers towards the mansion, assuming a gargantuan lead over the rest of the field.

TAYLOR
My, Krista, you have a very lovely garden. So many beautiful flowers and shrubbery.

KRISTA
Yes, but I keep my most precious plants inside. Out of the sight of roaming police helicopters....

Meanwhile at poolside, Leon is attending to his drenched girlfriend, who's shivering like a soaking wet puppy. Although he feels some sort of chivalrous urge to stay and assure her that everything will be okay, he can't help but fret over the fact that those wrestlers without girlfriends to weigh them down are closing in on his 24/7 title. With hints of impatience in his voice, he desperately tries to convince Ali that it would be wise for them to restart their aborted chase for the championship. However Alix, cocooned in a Mickey Mouse towel, seems positively spooked by the whole lawn mower incident and is steadfast in her refusal to budge. Unfortunately the decision to leave the poolside area is made for her, as former 24/7 champion [b]Mackenzie DeCenzo[/b] comes from out of no where, to spear her out of Leon's arm and knock her into the pool! SPLASH! The women hit the crystal clear water with all the grace of a boulder dropped from a seventeen story building. The fresher, more spirited Mackenzie, pops up first, and promptly dedicates herself to the despicable task of trying to [i]drown[/i] Alix. Spewing vulgarities like an utter madwoman, Mackie firmly presses her hand onto Alix's head, and submerges her entire body underneath the sparkling ocean.

KRISTA
If I had known we were going to see a T&A catfight in the pool, I would filled it with creamed corn and charged the neighborhood kids admission.

TAYLOR
Creamed corn? Not mud?

KRISTA
Do you have any idea how hard and how time consuming it is to clean mud stains off the surface of an Olympic sized swimming pool? And where am I supposed to get that much mud? Huh?

TERRY
Where would you get that much creamed corn?

KRISTA
Oh I have my ways...

While Taylor ponders Krista's cryptic comments, Leon encounters a rather troubling decision. Either he can do the honorable thing and assist Alix but hurt his chances of reclaiming the 24/7 title, or he can leave Alix to fend for herself and selfishly resume his quest for the gold. Choices, choices, choices. Choices that he'll never get a chance to make, due to the fact that Flex Phillips smashes a sculpture of the Hindu elephant god Ganesh over his head! The OAOAST's number one babyface sinks to the tile flooring, and bellows in anguish, unable to cope with the massive amount of pain that's rushing through his skull.

“Hello, Mister Rodez.” Flex begins, crushing the remnants of the statue with his boot. “I believe you and I have some unfinished business.”

TAYLOR
Krista, your statue!

KRISTA
No big deal, I stole it from Carmen Electra anyway. She stole Dave Navarro out from under my nose, I steal her mythical deity. Not an equal trade off, but at least the statue doesn't bear the shame of having been in a band with Perry Farrell. 

With shards of the statue resting in his finely gelled hair, Leon slowly rises, preparing to trade blows with the nutrition guru. However, Flex, now holding a wooden chair, has no intentions of participating in a simple slugfest. No, he wants to eliminate Le-Ro as quickly and as painfully as possible. Thus he throws his directly towards Leon's face. Fortunately, Rodez ducks beneath the swipe and avoids near decapitation. His breath comes in heavy and ragged spurts, as he watches the projectile sink into the shallow end of the pool. A second chair is thrown by Flex, and meets the same unproductive results as the first, except this time the chair collides with a tall oriental vase inside the cabana, exploding the antique item into fragments.

TAYLOR
Krista, your chairs!

KRISTA
Stolen from the lady across the street who seems morally opposed to letting her golden retriever do it's “business” any where that's not my front lawn. Most people wake up to a steaming pot of coffee. I wake up to a steaming piles of fly infested dog shit. Speaking of dog shit, it's Terry Taylor, everyone! 

Suddenly waves of fists dance across Phillips' face, thanks to Grand Rapids' favorite son. Flex swats at the incoming punches, trying to steer them clear with his meaty hands, but he's unsuccessful in this endeavor. Then  his face is abruptly yanked forward and impacted perfectly with Leon's forearm! Phillip's thick neck snaps back and forth, over and over again, as he's mercilessly pounded by the handsome superstar. Ever the charismatic showman, Leon decides to get a little flashy, and winds up for a windmill punch. But the gestural nature of that attack affords Flex enough time to mount a counterattack. His two arms coil around Rodez' waist, ready to strike with a deadly belly to belly suplex. But Leon prevents the move from materializing by repeatedly whipping his head into Flex's face, drawing obscene amounts of blood from the brawler's pierced nostrils. Quite the pig headed one, a crimson masked Flex, refuses to capitulate on the belly to belly attempt and tries the hold one more time. But Leon's unending parade of heabutts makes the move roundly impossible, forcing Phillips to move onto Plan B. What's Plan B, Patty? Patty, will tell you what Plan B is, if you'd just sit down and be patient, you ass licking whores. Plan B consists of Flex using Leon's body as a battering ram, charging forward, and slamming the man into a pillar on the side of the cabana! The whole structure vibrates upon impact, providing a steady bass line to Leon's tortured screams.

TAYLOR
Oh! A solid attack by Phillips.

KRISTA
As solid as the white man's stranglehold on the senate. Despite his race, it's fairly obvious that Flex Phillips is a dupe of the white man's conspiracy to suppress the masses on behalf of the multinational fascist dictatorship.

TAYLOR
Agreed one hundred percent. Power to the people, my snow bunny sister.

KRISTA
You? You're nothing but the steel toe of the boot of the capitalist Nazi regime!

Leon grimaces in profound pain, but it appears the worst is yet to come for the ex X-division champion. Flex latches onto his throat, and heaves him a good eight feet into the air. A screaming Leon clears the hut's railing, and suffers a brutal landing face first onto the cabana's dark wooden floor. Le-Ro is momentarily dazed by the jarring impact, and for a troubling moment he has extreme difficulty in remembering just who he is, what he's doing here, and why a six foot seven monster is threatening to knock him into Pacific Ocean.

“Are you okay, Lee-Lee?” A genuinely concerned Alix shouts in the distance, ignoring the fact that Mackie is still trying to drown her to death.

“Oh, I'm just peachy keen, darling!” Leon replies, pouring on the sarcasm.

Surveying the scene, Flex Phillips smirks as the splashing and spluttering behind him continues. This is his chance. Leaving Leon behind to continue to collect his thought, Flex jogs off into the distance as he heads towards Krista's house. The house itself, naturally, seeing as he's already in her backyard.

TAYLOR
So it's Hell Mel and Flex Phillips soaring into early leads, with The Marv and Biff still out on the tennis court recovering, Leon hurting on the cabana and Alix trying to fight off Mackenzie in the pool.

KRISTA
At least someone's paying attention.

TAYLOR
Hey, it's my job.

KRISTA
Yeah but yours pays far less than mine, let's keep that in mind. Don't be getting too big for your britches, bitches, just because you've got an attention span to speak of.

We now cut away from two women thrasing around in a pool and to Hell Mel, for some inane reason. Now in the dining room, Melvin seems confused, probably wondering what wrong turn he took to end up in the middle of a well-furnished jungle. Mel gets his bearings quickly though, probably wishing he had a map to find his way around this ridiculously large dwelling. Shuffling around the antique dining room table Mel gets to the door and prepares to explore some more of the less than humble abode, before five words halt his progress.

"Hey, pissflaps, behind ya!"

Melvin stops in confusion, wondering who's behind him and why they're using such a childish insult. The answers to those trying questions are Flex Phillips and because he's Flex Phillips. His distraction has worked well enough however, as Flex dares Melvin on and the Sk8ter Boi obliges him, sliding across the table like Daisy Duke more or may not have done (before my time) and coming at Flex with forearms.

TAYLOR
I'm impressed that Flex caught up to Mel so quick, it looked like Melvin was away and in the clear for a moment.

KRISTA
You haven't seen my state of the art, top of the range, rip-off merchant priced security system, have you? I'm impressed that Mel was smart enough to work out how to get through so quickly. It's like getting into the vault of Lloyd's of London sneaking into my house. Many a drunken night I've spent kicking my door in a futile attempt to prise it open.

Like a crazed man, Mel slams his forearm across the dome of Flex Phillips, rocking him backwards, up against the sink. Still Mel is throwing those bones, seemingly unstoppable...until Flex reaches back and cocks his elbow, snapping one of the taps and causing a jet of ice cold water to shoot from the faucet. Mel is caught in the eye by the makeshift water feature and recoils, allowing Flex an opportunity to shoot forward with a firm knee to the gut. Luckily for Mel, Krista's dining room isn't well stocked, so there aren't any sharp, mutilating weapons for Flex to utilise. But Flex has his hands to use as weapons and he nails Mel with a hard right hand. Mel stumbles backwards and Flex quickly backtracks, opening up the door leading to the backyard. Grabbing Mel by the hair and seat of his pants and with the door wide open, Flex makes like Uncle Phil and hurls Mel right out the door!!

"And STAY OUT!" cries Flex authoratively, little knowing that as soon as Mel comes to a plummeting fall on the patio, Leon Rodez is waiting as he charges through the door and clotheslines Phillips down!

"Honey, I'm HO-OME!" cheers Leon as he steps over Flex's motionless body.

KRISTA
Gee, that was original. I knew I should have booby trapped that door to abruptly shut the moment this douche stepping through it. I'll never learn. Sigh!

TAYLOR
Heh, 'booby'.

Declining the opportunity to advance through the house, Leon instead sets about bringing Flex to his feet. The mighty nutrition guru shoves Leon away and sends him up against the beech wood table, but Leon stops himself and as Flex runs in, Leon pushes up onto the balls of his hands and locks on a headscissors. Flex tries to fight it, but Leon makes Flex chow down on his thights (steady now) before swinging around and sending Phillips sprawling across the tiled floor with a hurricanrana!

KRISTA
So, anyway, what colour carpet do you think I should have in the living room once it gets all torn up and stuff? I'm thinking black, to cover the stains Maya and her friends cause and also to match my heart.

TAYLOR
I'm not really much of an interior designer, sorry.

KRISTA
You're not really much of a human being, but that hasn't stopped you from existing, has it?

Pulling himself up, Leon favours his hip slightly but realises he has a belt to win. Unfortunately, footsteps from outside the back door halt him and fearing the worst, Leon turns around...relieved to see a besheveled Alix Maria Spezia in the doorway.

"Honey, I'm HO-O..."

"What happened to Mackenzie?"

"Who?"

"Nevermind. So, let's go find that belt, huh?" smiles Leon, not altogether too convincingly and probably plotting on a way to lose Alix before reaching the belt. But all the same, Alix and Leon join hands and walk happily off out of the dining room, leaving Flex to lick his wounds.

KRISTA
NO! DON'T TRUST HIM ALIX, WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU, REPEATEDLY AND ANGRILY!

TAYLOR
She can't hear you, Krista.

KRISTA
I know, but it's not her fault. She gets distracted very easily.

TAYLOR
No, I mean...oh, nevermind.

Leaving the kitchen, Leon and Alix emerge in a hallway, but suddenly The Sliky Smooth One brings them to a stop.

"Oh man, I need a whizz." groans Leon. "Must be all that water and your erect nipples."

"I've been told I have that effect on people." Alix giggles in reply.

"So, where's the bathroom at?"

Alix points off to her right, where luckily there happens to be a downstairs bathroom. Breathing a sigh of relief, Leon heads in that direction...curiously, bringing Alix with him. I guess they're one of the those couples who do everything together, huh? Anyway, Leon and Alix abandon the hunt for the 24/7 Title briefly and walk down the long hallway in search of the first floor bathroom. Lucky that Alix knows her way around Krista's house well, otherwise Leon could be in bladder trouble. As it is, he reaches the bathroom safely and opens the door to reveal a typically lavish room. The taps and other appliances, apart from being crystal clean are also quite clearly expensive. A built in home entertainment system adorns one wall, just incase anyone's in it for the long haul. And of course, the main focal point, a large jacuzzi.



Usually, however, it isn't filled with barbecue sauce.


Rodez and Spezia stop, glance at each other in disbelief, then look back at [b][COLOR=green]Jivin' JR[/COLOR][/b] and three scantily clad ladies, all bathing within JR's spicy juice.

"Oh good God."

"RUN FOR THE GOLD! RUN FOR THE GOLD! Leon Rodez, Alix Maria Spezia! Wanna join the party? You wanna get covered in my sauce? BITCHES BE DIPPIN' BAH GAWD! RUN FOR THE GOLD! GOOD GAWD ALMIGHTY, RUN FOR THE GOLD! It's hawt in here, bah gawd!"

"Oh, good God."

J.R's bitches laugh, as the barbecue sauce begins to bubble.

"Did you turn the bubbles on, Jimmy?"

"Nope."

"Oh, good GOD."

KRISTA
I couldn't agree more. It's gonna take me forever to get those stains out of my beloved jacuzzi.

Backing slowly away, Leon apparantly not longer feels the need to urinate as he leads Alix to the relative normality of the hallway. Leon wisely closes the door after him and after a quick shudder, he looks to erase that hideous vision from his memory. And he just about manages to clear his mind in time to see a walking wounded, limping Biff Atlas pass the hallway in search of the front door! Panicking, Leon jogs after Biff, Alix following on as thankfully we're back to the match at hand.

TAYLOR
You know, I always wondered what happened to Jivin' JR.

KRISTA
So YOU'RE the one! Figures. You fringe characters need to stick together I guess.

Biff has little to no idea that he's being followed and as he makes his way through the maze of corridors and sub-corridors, the hapless haircare expert is already humming happily to himself. However, his lack of attention means he subsequently takes a wrong turning and strangely ends up in Krista's living room. Biff seems confused and appalled in one fair swoop, also a keen expert in hygiene. Picking up a copy of GQ Magazine from July 2003, Biff rests on what is presumably a sofa, moving an empty pizza box aside and sitting himself down for a brief rest. However, as soon as he sits down, he becomes a sitting target for Leon Rodez. Or rather, Alix Maria Spezia, Leon positioning himself with his back to Biff and launching Alix airborne for a bodysplash on Biff!

KRISTA
Oh, I'm so ashamed right now. I'm not a slob, really. God, I hope Entertainment Today aren't watching, not that they would. Before Maya came along, this room was my pride and joy. It was clean. It was neat. There were no creatures that I had to log onto the internet to identify crawling around the refuse. Did I ever tell you I hate Ned Blanchard?

TAYLOR
About four times on the plane ride over, twice before we came on air.

KRISTA
If something's not worth saying seven times, it's not worth saying at all. By the way Terry, you suck you suck you suck you suck you suck you suck you suck.

TAYLOR
Charming.

Rolling around the filth, Alix and Biff scrap in what vaguely resembles a catfight. Leon is ready to step in and help his girl, but suddenly Flex Phillips has entered the room and wipes out Leon with a Northern Lariat! Flex flexs...only to get wiped out with a similarly unexpected strike, Marvin Nerdly sprinting into the room and dropkicking Flex in the spine, sending him sprawling across the sofa. If Flex wanted a mouthful of discarded pizza cheese and spilt Cherry 7UP, he's in luck. Otherwise, too bad. 

"Alright bitches, let's RAWK!"

The Marv is now in the ascendancy, quite literally as he scales the back of the sofa. Alix, Biff, Flex and Leon all collect themselves and pull each other to their feet, scrapping away meekly as Marv climbs in front of them. The sofa is in danger of tipping...so it's lucky that Hell Mel has decided to make this his time for a grandious entrance, diving on the trash covered sofa to hold it in place and allow Marvin to soar off, wiping out the other four combatants in the 'match' with a soaring crossbody! The fivesome end up in the heap of discarded toys and other remnants that cover Krista's carpet, leaving Hell Mel the only one standing. Marv is quickly getting to his feet however, so Mel clears a space and hops up onto the sofa. Stooping low, Mel jumps up and looks to gain a springboard off the sofa's seat.



A tactic which worked much better when he was a 7 year old weakling.



A a 20 year old stud, however, he only ends up causing a worrying noise as his foot crashes through the sofa and breaks the springs beneath him. Mel's leg is trapped in the sofa now and all the fidgeting in the world isn't going to free him from it's evil velour claws.

KRISTA
(annotating)
New...sofa. Alright, that's awesome! Now, somebody break the TV, I could do with an expensive upgrade! I'm thinking 36 inches. And if you even THINK of making a joke about penis size Terry Taylor, I swear I'll get you thrown out of here.

Melvin continues to struggle to free himself as The Marv emerges from the mess, clutching a copy of Burnout 360 in his hand and bouncing the plastic case off of his brother's head. A disgruntled 'OW!' is all he gets as reward however, Marvin charges. Unfortunately for him though, Mel ducks his head and manages to backdrop Marv over, causing him to be bent spine-first over the back of the sofa and then sprawl face-first into the finely decorated wall behind!

TAYLOR
Oh, MAN! That could be both of the Boiz out of the running after that!

KRISTA
Running? For what? Oh shit, yeah, this is a match. I almost forgot, what with nobody going after the belt and everyone preferring to instead wreck shit up in my living room to draw this debacle out.

As Marv slumps up against the wall, his face mushed against the tasteful wallpaper, the duos of NRG and LeLix (cute name, huh?) begin to get back up. Alix doesn't last long as Flex almost decapitates her with a clothesline, while Biff swings out with a clothesline of his own on Leon, which misses and allows The Silky Smooth One to jab Biff with a Standing Ass Punch, causing Biff to stumble forward, wiping out a speaker system which topples on top of him for good measure!

"This shit is bananas!" Leon then screams, retrieving a copy of one Gwen Stefani's debut solo album and skimming it like a frisbee towards Flex Phillips' head. Flex adeptly ducks however, causing the flimsy CD case to shatter into a family portait hung on the wall behind him, an 'Isadora Duncan' family portait that has become a makeshift dartboard where Ned Blanchard's sketched image stands. Flex stays stooped as he charges forward, looking to tackle Rodez backwards towards the backyard and the windows in it's path, but luckily Rodez manages to sidestep Phillips. Skidding to a halt before he goes hurtling through the glass, Flex thanks his lucky stars and the big man upstairs (although, ironically, there hasn't been a big man upstairs in this particular house for some time) and turns around in search of Rodez. Rodez is waiting on him though and he stabs Flex in the head with an Emmy statuette, ripping the flesh on Flex's forehead open in the process.

KRISTA
No, not my Emmy!

TAYLOR
Since when did you win an Emmy?

KRISTA
When I put in the highest bid for it on e-Bay, Sherlock! Scratch off the part of the nameplate that says "Ted Danson" and it's as good as mine. Who are you to doubt me?

As Flex collapses with his hands pressed to his stinging forehead, Hell Mel has suddenly freed his leg from the sofa and celebrates his newfound freedom by scuttling on out of the living room, in search of 24/7 gold. Rodez spots Mel's getaway and tosses the Emmy haphazardly aside before chasing after Mel, the other four combatants remaining in various states of consciousness in the living room. Mel is clearly in the lead, running through the corridors with Leon hot on his heels. Both men's running begins to slow though, as Melvin is clearly lost.

TAYLOR
Mel and Leon, getting closer to the gold...or, at least, I think they are. Are they?

KRISTA
How should I know?

TAYLOR
Well it is your house.

KRISTA
But I haven't been paying attention, doofus. Keep up.

"Do you even know where you're going!?!" shouts Rodez off into the distance, as Mel turns another corner, confronted by a home cinema. And by home cinema, I'm not talking a medium sized T.V and some fancy surround sound speakers, I'm talking a cinema screen and 20 fold-down cinema seats.

"I guess not!"

"Me neither. Maybe we should stop running and check the map then, eh?"

"Map!?!"

Mel screeches to a halt and goes into reverse, jogging backwards to where Leon now stands.

"You were given a map?"

"Well...not as such."


*SMACK!*

Down goes Melvin, felled by a Superkick and thwarted by his feeble mind! Looking a little guilty, Leon consoles himself in the fact that Mel would have done the same had the situation been different and prepares to go belt hunting again. Only, as he turns back around, he's confronted by the current Champion, Alix Maria Spezia, again arriving just in time to bring her boyfriend to a halt.

"Hey Lee-Lee, I think we're getting closer, we just need to go down this hallway and... *SHRIIIIIIEEEEEEK!* Oh my God, what did you do to MEL!?!"

Leon seems confused by Alix's sudden concern for the Sk8ter Boi, not to mention even more guilty than before.

"He...he slipped. On...something."

"Oh, that's okay then. So, we gonna get that belt or what?"

Shrugging, Leon drops to one knees and drops into some imaginary starters blocks, perfectly willing to race his girlfriend to the belt. Alix takes her time in reading what's going on as she is prone to do, but eventually she too drops onto her marks, gets set and...



...Biff Atlas clatters through the OAOAST's most beloved couple with clotheslines!

KRISTA
That's what happens when you trust a man...another man clotheslines you in the back. Exactly what I've been telling my friends at my Women's Liberation meetings for years.

Biff comes to a stop and once he's sure Alix and Leon are down, he stumbles on down the hallway and as Krista's obscenely expensive water fountain feature comes into view, he just KNOWS that he's close. He will get no closer for the moment though, as The Marv has recovered and has hold of Biff's leg, desperately halting his progress. Biff tries to shake Marvin up but fails to do so, so instead he slams his arm across the Boi's back and hauls him to his feet. Winding up, a cocky Biff tries to take Marv's head off...but Marv's head ducks, as well as the rest of his upper body, allowing Marvin to backdrop Biff overhead...



*SPLASH!*


...and into the base of the water fountain with a less than comfortable landing!

"AH! My coccyx!" weeps Biff.

TAYLOR
These six contestants are really putting themselves through it here, all in search of the 24/7 Championship. And this match has been every bit as gruelling as Run For The Gold 1 was!

KRISTA
At least this one didn't have David Hasselhoff involved.

For no reason at all, David Hasselhoff walks by eating a baloney sandwich, as Flex Phillips finds his way into the hallway in time to club The Marv from behind, dropping him to his knees. Flex grabs Marv's finely groomed hair and pulls him straight back up though, looking to deal with Marvin once and for all as he aims to torpedo him through one of K.I.D's wall length aquariums! Up on the shoulder however, Marv begins to fight and his frantic elbows eventually help him to squirm from Flex's grip and land safely on his feet. Placing his hands on Flex's shoulders, Marvin then goes up and over with a leapfrog and backs himself up against the glass fish tank.

"C'mon Mr Universe, let's see what you've got!"

Flex is incensed to be called out by a Sk8ter Boi and charges with a Yakuza Kick, aiming it at Marv's skull. Marv weaves clear of the impact however, Flex's leg unable to do the same...





*CRAAAAAASSSSSHHHH!!*



...AND IT SMASHES THROUGH THE GLASS, SENDING WATER AND FISHES FLOODING FORTH FROM WITHIN!!

KRISTA
Now that's an insurance claim! Somewhere, Aquaman is weeping...for many reasons, the destruction of his artful handiwork tonight probably low on his list of concerns.

As the hallway rapidly begins to flood, Marv charges at Flex. Unfortunately his footwear doesn't provide much grip on the slippery surface beneath his feet and he loses his footing, long enough for Flex to regain his bearings and rock Marvin with a headbutt! Marv falls to his knees, soaking his fashionable jeans in the process. That proves the least of his worries however, as Flex reaches down beside his feet and grabs a flailing bright blue and yellow fish from the water, pulling Marv's head back and attempting to cram the creature down The Boi's throat!!

TAYLOR
UGH! Flex is trying forcefeed Marv that live fish!

KRISTA
What's the big deal, narrator? It's just like sushi. Unprocessed, scale covered, boney sushi.

Marv declines this free meal with a swift backhand to the face of Flex, causing the fish to fall back to the safety of the water that floods the floor. Yes, I didn't kill it. Don't sue, hippy. Flex reels away holding his face as The Marv now has the front door in his sights and knows he's close. So with one last attempt to dry off his pants, Marv sprints forward and tries to dodge past Flex. Nothing doing though, as Flex catches him at the side and drives him down with a soggy STO!

"Looks like Jadakiss is gonna get some more royalties, because THE CHAMP IS...HERE!" Flex confidently cries as he rises to his feet, little realising that Alix Maria Spezia has snuck into the lead!

KRISTA
Yes! C'mon Ali, if you get close enough to the finish line I can release the dogs on the other idiots! I've been teasing them especially! Singing off key...poking them with sticks...showing them a The Best Of The Red Rooster compilation DVD.

TAYLOR
Ouch.

KRISTA
I know. Worst twelve minutes of my life.

Alix crawls through the front doors and finds herself in the Los Angeles open once more, breathing in the SoCal air gleefully as the finish line is mere feet away. A good few feet, but feet nonetheless. Alix clambers up to her feet and with the final stretch in sight, she turns around to check no-one is tailing her...which is an unwise move, as it allows Flex Phillips to catch up and throw a right hand that drops Alix down to one knee.

"Hey, Flex, [i]ahomosayswhat[/i]!"

"What?"

"Heh...he said what."

Turning around, Flex suddenly finds himself rocked by a succession of right hands by The New-Age Love Machine, Leon Rodez! Rodez puts Flex on the backfoot and while Alix recovers beside this fight, Rodez stops and attempts another Superkick. Unlike Marv before him however, Flex is able to duck and catch Rodez as he spins around, booting him in the gut and setting up for a Powerbomb!

TAYLOR
Alix is up and the title is so, so close!

KRISTA
And Rodez is gonna get crushed too! This is too perfect!

Alix now seems to have a clear route to the belt and Krista is up on her feet beside the finish line, beckoning Alix to come towards her. However, Alix's vision isn't locked solely on the belt. Turning away, Alix sprints across the front lawn and leaps over her boyfriend's back, snaring Flex by the head and twisting him around with a hurricanrana!! Flex and Alix clatter onto the firm lawn with a thud and neither is getting up, leaving Leon standing. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's going to do next.



Jogging clear, Rodez smiles from ear to ear, as he dives across the finish line, snapping it in two and securing himself the victory! Scrambling up to his feet, Rodez then collects the belt and avoids Krista's icy glare as he jogs off into the distance, already celebrating.

TAYLOR
Leon did it! Leon grabbed the belt! Somebody ring the bell!

Krista quickly grabs up the bell and places it on Taylor's head.

*DINGDINGDING!*

TAYLOR
OUCH! 


MAYA
AndthewinnerisTheDouche!

The Douch...erm, Leon Rodez continues to jog off into the distance, not stopping to look back as he reaches the road leading away from the house, jumping into a handily placed cab and speeding away and out of sight. Back at the house, Biff Atlas and The Sk8ter Boiz can only watch on despairingly as Rodez is now long gone and also, the new 24/7 Champion. Also watching on is Alix Maria Spezia, hanging her head at the scathing look Krista is giving her.

TAYLOR
Man, what an ending. It looked like Alix was seconds away from retaining her title, but she sacrificed herself to save her boyfriend...and in the end, her boyfriend took the belt.

KRISTA
Sacrifice Shmacrifice! Alix finally came to the realization I've been trying to force on her for weeks. Leon didn't care about her, all he cares about is the belt. You saw it right there. Alix lands on her ass and Leon just runs into the night...well, the evening anyway.

TAYLOR
You really think Leon is that selfish?

KRISTA
Don't know, don't care. I'm out of here Terry. You ain't gon' see me for dust. I've got some re-decorating to do, so take yourself off my property and take the rest of this circus with you. Peach out.

Krista throws down her microphone and leaves the broadcast table to console Alix, as we swoop back to Indy!