HD: Bruisers/Los Diablos match+after match promo

[Patty O'Green 0]

[i]Frankenstein[/i] by genre bending artist Edgar Winter plays causing an entire arena to fill with disgusted boos and taunts. Chants of “Bruisers Suck” bubble up from various corners of the venue, a true testament to how much hatred the OAOAST faithful holds for the grapplers. The entrance doors spread apart, revealing the targets of the fans ire, Big Frank Bruiser and his younger sibling, Uber Bruiser. Uber outfitted in simple black trunks doesn't bother with any flashy poses or plays to the camera. The Psycho Gremlin simply walks to the ring, ignoring every fan he passes, even the few who offer him words of encouragement. Big Frank, in red shorts with 69 written on the front and a Superman style S on the back, takes a second to show off his freakish physique before he joins his brother in their solemn journey to the squared circle.

BUFFER
The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall with a time limit of twenty minutes. Now making their way to the ring from Oklahoma, weighing in at a combined weight of five hundred and thirty five pounds, they are former OAOAST tag team champions, and NCAA all Americans, combined between them they have won six NCAA wrestling championships, two world championships, eight high school championships, and seven USA wrestling championships, they are The Pyscho Gremlin, Uber Bruiser, The Man of Tomorrow Uber Bruiser.....THE SOOOONER BRUISEEEEERSSS!

“BRUISERS SUCK! BRUISERS SUCK!” chant the crowd, forcing Frank to pump his majestic muscles in arrogant response.

COLE
I'll tell you what, I love the way these guys wrestle, smash mouth and in your face. But I do not, have not and never will like their actions. They're bullies, plain and simple. They attacked The Gunslingers last week because they were mad the Gunslingers got a shot at Alix and Krista before they did. And rumor has it that they're planning on attacking any team that gets a match with Alix and Krista before they do. And the only reason they agreed to a match with Los Diablos De Fuego tonight, is because they're friends with Alix, and they want to draw her out or at least send a message to her.

COACH
The Sooner Bruisers have athletic drive and a desire to succeed, something a namby pansy little man like you would never understand. Too many teams sit on their butts and wait for a title match to come their way. These two lose the belts under dubious circumstances and they go out and go right back for them. Respect given where respect due. What's not to like about these two, except for this entrance music. Man, someone shut this mess off!

Coach's wish is the music director's command and Frankenstein (thankfully?) comes to a close. It's replaced by the club hopping beats of former Spice Girl Geri Halliwell's rendition of [b]It's Raining Men[/b]. The arena lights dim to a moody pink as Miss Spezia's Sweeties' world famous gingerbread cookies rain from the ceiling and onto the heads of frightened and alarmed fans. Those who aren't under an air assault from overpriced cookies, loudly cheer for the arrival of Los Diablos De Fuego! The queer duo doesn't disappoint their fans, making a spectacular appearance on the entrance stage, bumping and grinding with a giant gingerbread man! The gingerbread man eagerly thrusts his ample tush into Mariachi's pumping crotch, while he seductively roams his lusting hands along Morraca's gyrating and writhing hips. Both luchadores plant a kiss on The Gingerbread Man's cheeks, causing the snack treat to faint from an ecstasy overload. Mariachi, outfitted in a sparkling pink PVC singlet, skips towards the ring, waving his plastic pitchfork at all the sexy males in the audience. Morraca, who's carrying an inflatable toy monkey, trails behind his partner, seductively pursing his blue lips at any hot man he sees.

COACH
I know I'm going to regret asking you this, but why does Morraca have toy monkey?

COLE
That monkey is Mono, the longtime lover of Los Diabos fallen mascot El Ouvea. I'll tell you what, wrestling has it's fair share of moments that make me question why I even stay in this crazy messed up business, but this right here, this is what's it's all about. Pride. Love. Respect. Famillia. We honor so many people for what they do in an athletic venue or a performance outlet. But what El Ouvea did away from the ring before his death, displaying his conviction, his principles and everything that he stood for, is what makes him a cut above the rest. And for his lover to be here with us on HeldDOWN well words can't properly express the swell of emotions I'm feeling. It's a wonderful thing, Coach, it truly is.

COACH
I said I'd regret asking you that, and what a surprise, I do. I got no respect for these dudes. None at all. I'm so homophobic I won't even keep my clothes in the closet.

BUFFER
And the opponents from Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, Mariachi, Moracca, LOS DIABLOS DE FUEGGGOGOOOOOOOO!

COLE
Coach, what exactly is the deal with The Beverly Hills Blonds ducking Los Diablos De Fuego? Ned's a certified tightwad, who's so cheap he gave his daughter Maya a blender for her birthday.

COACH
What's wrong with that? A kid needs to learn how to cook for herself at some point.

COLE
It was the same blender she gave him for Father's Day! Despite his cheapness, he's out there with Simon and the rest of The Enterprise paying cash to avoid a meeting with Los Diablos. Why is that?

COACH
I can't even bring myself to dignify your question with a response due to your use of the word ducking. The Beverly Hills Blonds duck no one. They paid off Team Canada because they want some decent competition. Unfortunately NRG couldn't provide them with it, but Los Diablos sure couldn't have either.

Mariachi slides into the ring, where he energetically pumps his crotch into the canvas while he stares with deep enchantment into the camera, turning out every male viewer with a simple wink and a steamy smile.  Moracca remains low key, situating Mono in a safe position, so that he can watch the contest without risk of being attacked by unscrupulous OAOAST performers. Once he's assured that Mono is safe, he takes his position on the apron, as his partner stares down The Psycho Gremlin in the center of the squared circle.

***DING DING DING***

The match begins with the warriors coming together for a lockup. The normally sleep inducing move is anything but as both men battle over the hold like the fate of the world depends on it. Muscles tighten and  mouthes grunt as they engage in an epic struggle. Eventually Uber is able to use his sheer size to overpower the luchadore and move into an arm wrench. He snaps Mariachi's arm back and forth, drawing pained moans from the grappler. Unable to withstand the agony much longer, Mariachi makes a move to escape. He drops down to his back, then presses the heels of his white boots into the mat and kips up. His intention was to thrust himself out of Uber's hold. But the ring savvy Bruiser is one step ahead of him, and slides behind the man. He drops onto his orange knee pads, ready to do more damage to the Mexican. But instead of using the expected double leg takedown, he does something far more disturbing. He opens his mouth wide and sinks his off white choppers deep into Mariachi's fleshy BUTT!

COLE
Oh my!

Your typical hetrosexual male might react to this attack with a combination of chilling horror and outright revulsion. But Mariachi is the furtherest thing from your typical heterosexual male. In fact, he isn't even heterosexual! He's a homosexual luchadore who fancies dressing up like day time Emmy award winner Susan Lucci on the weekends. Thus he reacts to the pseudo rim job with orgasmic ravishment, and excitedly grinds his amble backside into Uber's face. Bruiser's expression instantly morphs from smug satisfaction to utter fear when he realizes that Mariachi is enraptured by this perverse attack. As the rambunctious crowd hoots and hollers at scene, The Psycho Gremlin tries his damnedest to escape the dire situation. But Mariachi's flabby cheeks make themselves an unbeatable jailer, trapping Uber in the unenviable position. However, he's soon rescued when Mariachi is violently shoved to the mat away from his lips. Unfortunately for Uber, the one performing the rescue wasn't his partner Frank, it was Moracca! Consumed with jealously over the fact that Mari was getting all the lovin' from the burly bear, Moracca stormed into the squared circle to get his piece of the action. Uber looks to Moracca with confused eyes, dangerously unsure of what the salivating luchadore has in mind. The Pyscho Gremlin is quickly exposed to Moracca's outrageous plan when his vision is engulfed by the horrifying sight of the man's [b]BARE[/B] ass! 

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

With his beefy posterior hanging out, Moracca demands in broken English that Uber give him the same “pleasure” he bestowed upon his associate just seconds ago.

“DO IT! DO IT!” chant the now standing fans.

Uber does [i]something[/i] all right. And that something is slam his forearm into Moracca's groin! The cheap shot doubles him over in distress, and allows a thankful Uber to escape the harrowing predicament. The Psycho Gremlin springs to his feet and bowls over the Latin Lothario with a devastating lariat. Consumed with bitterest rage, he begins decimating Moracca's masked face with brutish stomps. Unwilling to watch his boytoy be annihilated by the homophobic redneck, Mariachi charges to his lover's aid. However, Uber shoots down his rescue plane with ease, overtaking the man with a back body drop! As Mariachi's body slams into the canvas, Uber takes a moment to howl in triumph, drawing a smattering of boos from the audience. Yet those [i]jeers[/i] quickly turn into [i]cheers[/i] as a vengeful Moracca (with ass back in pants) knocks him head over heels with a high flipping lariat!

COACH
Moracca making sure to come to Mariachi's aid. I guess your kind sticks together, Cole. There's a sodomy joke in there somewhere, but I'm too lazy to make the connection.

COLE
Thank god for small favors.

As Uber scrapes himself off the mat his eyes witness a truly appalling vision; Moracca is rhythmically thrusting his crotch directly at his face. Uber quickly swallows the vomit that sight brought on, and hops to his feet where he launches haymaker towards his foe. Unfortunately, the Mexican catches his arm and proceeds to nearly snap it out of it's socket with an arm wrench. To add insult to The Psycho Gremlin's quickly mounting injury, Moracca begins to angrily pump his crotch into Uber's sizable rear end.

“UBER'S A HOMO! UBER'S A HOMO!” chant the fans who may or may not be aware of the irony in their statement

After he finishes stripping Uber of his dignity and self respect, Moracaa heads to his corner and plants a loving kiss on Mariachi's cheek. That's deemed equivalent to a tag into the match, and  Mariachi enters the squared circle. He picks up where his life partner left off, awkwardly contorting the Psycho Gremlin's limb with an arm wrench. Unwilling to be the victim of another simulated rape, Uber makes moves to free himself from Moracca's clutches. He roars backwards and slashes his fingers across Mariachi's brown eyes, ending the arm wrench and putting the Latino under a great deal of duress. Uber then seizes complete control of the bout by taking his fist and and smashing it into Mariachi's jaw, knocking the luchadore loopy and into the Bruiser's corner.  Starved for any semblance of action,  Big Frank reaches over the ropes and hooks onto Mariachi's arms, allowing his baby brother to obliterate the luchadore's stomach with uncontested stomps and punches. After fifteen seconds of this brutal manhandling passes, referee Charles Robinson promptly orders the brothers grim to stop. But the rebellious duo refuses to follow orders, forcing the official to threaten a disqualification. The warning causes the siblings to begrudgingly acquiesce to Robinson's demands, and Big Frank switches spots with his younger brother in order to legally continue the drubbing.

COACH
I think it's true shame that these two rejects from an Elton John tour are allowed to illegally double team a model athlete like Uber Bruiser, but when the Bruisers try to fight fire with fire, the official gets a stick up his BUTT. And it wouldn't surprise me if that stick belongs to one of Los Diablos De Fuego

Frank pins Mariachi against the corner post and begins to savage his midsection with a series of brutal stomps. After the sixth strike lands with deadly precession, he peels his wheezing rival off the posts and hurls him to the ropes with an Irish whip. The Ohio State alum has a fierce lariat awaiting his rival's return, but Mariachi ducks underneath the move and carries himself to the opposite end of the battle field. Frank whirls around to floor the returning superstar with a discus punch, but the Cabo San Lucas native counters the move by leaping onto The Man of Tomorrow's wide shoulders and overwhelming him with a hurricanrana! Frank rises just as quickly as he fell, and charges towards his enemy like a rabid pitbull off his leash. But Mariachi sidesteps the muscle man and uses his momentum to throw him into the poorly padded steel turnbuckle! Frank's shoulder clangs off the post with a resounding thud, and his audible grunt of misery brings smiles to the faces of the fans in the front row. Fortunately for him, he'll have a brief opportunity to nurse his injuries as his lil bro had the wherewithal to make a blind tag. Uber chucks himself into squared circle with a spring board shoulder block that slices right through Mariachi like the sharpest of razor blades. He then applies the tag to Franklin, who gets a measure of revenge on The Diablo by driving his arm into his chest with a picture perfect slingshot elbow drop. The Sooner drapes his arm over Mari's heaving chest, leading the referee to count the first pinfall of the contest.

ONE

TWO

The butthole surfer kicks out long before the ref can reach a three count. He rises on his own accord and begins pouring a series of forearm smashes into Frank's cranium. The shots leave the former tag champion dazed and allow Mariachi to do a bit of showboating by thrusting his groin towards the barbaric grappler. As the crowd roots him on, Mariachi surges forward and bowls Frank over with a leg lariat! The luchadore leaves The Man of Tomorrow coughing and wheezing on the mat, and bounds to the ropes. When he skirts back, he does a little shimmy, then takes to the skies, and drives his knee onto Frank's chiseled face! The audience comes to their feet in response to the effective strike, while an apron based Moracca eggs them on with DX-esque crotch chops.

COACH
Showboating and hotdogging will get you nowhere, Cole, nowhere.

COLE
Lighten up, he was just trying to entertain the fans.

COACH
Lighten up? I am lightened up. I'm so light you need to tie me to chair, I just might float towards the roof. All I'm saying is that it's more then a little stupid for a man who's won all of five matches in his OAOAST career to be showing off like that.

Back in the ring, Mariachi whips Big Frank towards the cables. He pushes himself off the ropes as well, seeking to floor his rival with a lariat once their paths cross. Unfortunately for him he failed to notice that Uber made a blind tag. By the time he becomes aware of this fact, the sole of Uber's boot is being violently introduced to his face. Mari plummets backwards, bellowing in misery. The tortured screams cause Moracca to lose all tracings of good judgment, and draw him into the ring to save his friend. However, the referee vehemently denies him passage, and this untimely distraction permits the Bruisers to double team poor Mariachi. Both men rush to opposite ends of the ring, where the ropes shoot them towards the hapless luchadore like bats out of hell. They extend their tree trunk thick arms and decimate Mariachi's upper body with sandwich Soonerlines! The lifeless grappler crumples to the canvas in a twisted heap of body glitter and broken bones. Big Frank exits the ring, while Uber attempts a pinfall. The suddenly undistracted referee rushes to the fighters to make the count.

ONE

TWO


Mariachi pulls his shoulder off the mat, causing The Psycho Gremlin to unleash a torrent of obscenities. Struggling to keep his anger in check, Uber rises to his feet and demolishes Mariachi's lower back with a deadly array of stomps and punches. The only thing that prevents him from fully pulverizing his enemy is Charles Robinson's stern warning about the usage of closed fists. Rather then be kept in the check by Robinson's overbearing rules, Uber says “to hell with it” and drags Mariachi to his corner to let Frank deal with him. After the tag is made The Man of Tomorrow enters the match and works out a quick double team strategy with his sibling. They fling the smaller grappler to the ropes and celebrate his speedy return by hooking their arms underneath his, lifting him into the air, flipping him over and violently slamming him back first onto the mat!  Delighted with the pain he's wrought, Uber exits the ring, howling into the air. Meanwhile, The Man of Tomorrow towers above his whimpering foe, flexing his Mister Olympia worthy muscles in marvelous triumph.

“FRANK YOUR MAMA'S TITS SO TINY THAT IF SHE WAS A RAPPER THEY'D CALL THE BITCH TITTY SMALLS!” screams a fan in the third row.

Ignoring the fan's crude comments, Big Frank drops to his knees and applies the always exciting reverse chin lock to the flamboyant superstar. Frank's powerful tattooed arms coil around Mariachi like a boa constrictor, robbing the man of his ability to breathe with each passing second. Stricken with desperation and already on the verge of passing out, the queer one reaches his hand towards Mono, the lover of Los Diablos' dearly departed mascot El Ovéja, for kindness, support and encouragement. 

COLE
Mariachi trying to draw strength from the spirit of El Ovéja!

COACH
Oh, for the love of Christ!

Some would say that what happens next could be logically be attributed to the fact that the heavy combination of baby oil and sweat on Frank's arm makes it nearly impossible for him to maintain a tight grip on his foe for any length of time. But I prefer to think that somehow, El Ovéja was able to pass along the power of love and peace from the great beyond and aid his former comrades in their quest for victory. Whatever you wish to believe, the fact is that Frank's death grip weakens just enough to allow Mari to maneuver his way to his feet. Frank has little choice but to follow him, lest he lose his hold altogether. Mari begins to slam elbow after elbow into Big Frank's brawny abdomen, and eventually rids himself of the Bruiser's treacherous shackles! He celebrates his new found freedom by charging to ropes and bouncing back towards his enemy. However The Man of Tomorrow regains control of the affair by crashing his knee into the luchadore's midsection, totally robbing the man of his air and new found momentum. The bestial brawler wastes no time in pulling Mari upright, where he smashes  his elbow into the side of his head. The strike sufficiently stuns Mariachi, allowing Frank to sneak behind him and apply a tightly held half nelson. The Cabo San Lucas native tries his hardest to escape his rival's trap, but Frank's restraint is far too difficult to destroy. Helpless, all Mari can do is brace himself for the eventual impact of Frank's attack. And what a devastating impact it is, as Frank roughly yanks him off the ground, and peels backwards, dropping the over matched warrior directly onto his neck with a half nelson suplex! A stream of Spanish flavored vulgarities leaves Mariachi lips as he struggles to cope with the searing pain that's spreading through his neck. For his part The Man of Tomorrow stands at his opponent's side, flexing his impressive muscle and kissing his biceps. After he's done tonguing his arm, Frank drives the point of his elbow towards his rival's face. Fortunately the fan favorite pulls himself away from speeding bullet in the nick of time, leaving Frank to have a nasty, bone rattling introduction to the canvas. Infuriated by Mariachi avoidance and the pain he's been left in, Frank rises to his feet and unleashes another massive elbow drop on his foe. Sadly he meets with the same maddening results, and the agony is enough to make him scream out in pain and frustration.

COLE
It's funny, Coach, showboating and hotdogging worked a lot better for the team that has “only won  five matches” then it did for your beloved former tag team champions. Care to explain why that is?

COACH
Care to explain why you wear a dress when you have a penis?

The formerly subdued audience returns to life at the sight of Frank's struggles, and fills the arena with boisterous chants of “HOMIES! HOMIES! HOMIES!”. Mariachi draws strength from their support as he begins the arduous trek to his corner. Eventually he reaches his station and makes the long awaited tag to Moracca, causing the crowd to erupt in unbridled euphoria. Admist the joyous confusion, Uber illegally enters the ring and charges towards Moracca, seeking to end Los Diablos offensive flurry before it can start. Unfortunately the Oklahoma native is dealt a crushing blow in the form of a flipping heel kick straight to the jaw!

“HOMIES! HOMIES! HOMIES!”

Big Frank groggily rises to his feet, only to be met by Moracca with knife edge chops that push him towards the corner. The unmerciful luchadore peels him off the turnbuckle pads just as quick as he put him there and whips towards his waiting life partner. Mariachi leaps into the air and laces his legs around Frank's shoulder's, hoping to pull the Bruiser down into a hurricanrana. But the amateur wrestling legend has other ideas, and cinches his meaty hooks onto Mariachi's legs. Fully in control of his foe, Frank continues his journey towards the corner. When he nears the turnbuckles, he unloads Mariachi from his shoulders, barbarically blasting him into the poorly padded steel posts with a running powerbomb! Mariachi cries out in raw agony, as the fans react with a mixture of shock, horror, and amazement at Frank's contemptible attack.

COACH
Frank wins at smear the queer for life. Spegro is dead!

Satisfied with the carnage he's wrought, a smirking Frank turns around to deal with the remaining Diablo, only to get walloped in the face by Mono! Well, Moracca holding Mono in his hand. Frank staggers backwards, fighting to regain the balance the surprise attack robbed him of. But an incensed Moracca does him no favors and continues to pummel him with the inflatable primate! Frank tries to escape the ridiculous assault by ducking underneath the ropes, but one mighty home run swing from Moracca knocks the strongman flat on his back. Frank can do little but cover up and wonder who he wronged in a past life to deserve getting beat down by $5.99 toy monkey. 

“MONO! MONO! MONO!' the crowd chants, making the inanimate monkey the most over participant in the match.

A recovered Uber puts an end to this monkey business by slamming his forearm into Moracca's back. The Mexican whirls around to paste Uber with a closed fist. But the Bruiser intercepts the strike with a knee to the gut, leaving the luchadore in a most vulnerable position! Uber takes advantage of his weakened state by lifting him horizontally in his arms. He then runs a full circle around the ring, building up velocity and suspense for his inevitable move. Once he closes in on the center of the ring, he dives forward, crushing Moracca (and Mono) underneath his enormous body weight with the [b]Oklahoma Stampede[/b]!

COLE
Oklahoma Stampede! Oh my, I think that could be it!

Uber shares similar sentiments as Cole, and hooks his motionless foe's leg for a pivotal pinfall. The referee makes the count...

ONE




TWO




THREE!!!

The moment the referee's hand hits the canvas, an annoyed groan leaves the lips of the spectators who are less then pleased to see the Oklahoma bullies capture another victory.

BUFFER
The winners of the match....THE SOONER BRUISERS!

The crowd replies to Buffer's announcement with further jeers and catcalls, some of the more inebriated onlookers even going as far as to foolishly challenge the brother's to a brawl.

COLE
A very hard loss to take for Los Diablos De Fuego.  Let's hope it doesn't prove costly in their Anderson Cup hopes. However a defeat like this can truly damage a teams momentum.

COACH
Wait a second, if say lightening strikes killing the remaining participants in the Anderson Cup and Los Diablos are the only team left alive, and win it by default, would they actually fight their best friend, Alix? Do any of those three have the stones and the guts to put friendship aside and lay it all on the line for the tag team titles? The answer is no, and that's why a team like Los Diablos don't even belong in the Anderson Cup!

COLE
Coach, over the last several months Los Diablos have prove....hey what's going on in the ring?!

The answer to Cole's question is that the Bruisers are dishing out an unholy beating to the men they just scored a victory over. Frank has Moracca trapped in the corner, where he proceeds to rain a hell storm of closed fists onto the helpless fighter's head. Eventually his razor sharp strikes slice through the spandex mask and draw an inkling of blood from the top owf his victim's forehead. Uber is having his way with Mariachi in the middle of the ring, crippling the poor man with stomps so vicious that it feels like a sixty pound weight is being dropped on his chest. The fans, of course, boo this display of crass and classless behavior. But their anger only causes the gruesome twosome to increase the intensity of their assault. Frank grabs Moracca by the back of the head and roughly rakes his bloodied face along the top rope, putting the superstar under an inordinate amount smoldering torment. Elsewhere, Uber goes for a more complicated but no less painful form of punishment, by lifting Mariachi into the air and spinning him around until the defenseless grappler is draped over his shoulders. From there he dives forward, slamming Mariachi into the mat and landing on top of him with a tilt-a-whirl powerslam! Robinson makes a half hearted plea for mercy on behalf of Los Diablos, but gets punched in the stomach and chucked out of the ring by Frank as a result of his meddling!

COACH
That's just a little payback for Robinson's terrible officiating in the tag team turmoil match.

COLE
Why are they doing this? What's this going to accomplish?

Leaving Moracca a bloodied mess, Frank parades around the ring with his muscles flexed and his mouth jaw jacking with the outraged front row fans. Pleased with the damage done to Mariachi, Uber moves onto his next victim, the toy monkey, Mono. He points at the unprotected primate and slowly nods his head, eliciting boos from those fans who don't wish to see harm befall the creature. Ignoring the crowd's emphatic request for mercy, Uber shoves Mono between his legs and grabs onto his midsection. Snarling like a comic book villain, he takes one last look at the angered crowd before he sits out, spiking Mono's head into the rock hard canvas with a piledriver!

“MONO! MONO! MONO!” bleats the crowd, either chanting the fallen monkey's name or giving a mass medical diagnosis.

COLE
(nearly in tears)
Damn it no! Hasn't that monkey suffered enough for one lifetime? Why do bad things happen to such good people? How can we talk to an angel? Are you there god, it's me Michael?

COACH
Seriously, can you even look at yourself in the mirror anymore?

While a wholly amused Uber gingerly puts the boots to Mono, Frank attends to the sentient victims, alternating between stomping Mariachi and Moracaa. Suddenly an enthusiastic roar erupts from the stands as all eyes turn towards the entrance way. None other then the tag team champions Chicks Over Dicks, charge down the ring with [b]field hockey sticks[/b](??!!) in hand! As the crowd the chants their name, the duo slides into the ring, ready to do battle with the violent Okies. Despite the fact that the girls and their girly choice of weaponry don't exactly pose any sort of threat, the brothers decide to retreat, choosing to fight COD another day. They back up the ramp, neither taking their ice cold eyes off the reigning tag champions. Alix checks on her fallen comrades and they're wounded monkey, while Krista, who is mostly indifferent to Los Diablos De Fuego's existence and doesn't really care about a toy chimp, grabs a microphone and waits for the raucous crowd to calm down before she unleashes one of her trademark hate filled tirades.

“C-O-D! C-O-D! C-O-D!”

COLE
Thank the good lord Krista and Alix came out when they did.

COACH
And thank the good lord Krista chose not to wear a bra today.

KRISTA
Big Frank, littler Frank, what are ya doing all the way up on the ramp? Huh? The party is down here in the ring! We've got booze, we've got the illegal drugs, we've got hot women, one of which is so bad ass that she just incriminated herself to the DEA and the FBI on national television, and none of which would ever touch you, or any man, with a ten foot pole, unless that pole happened to be laced with flesh searing acid. But don't let that stop you from RSVPing, because we've got Johnathan Coach's edible underwear, Sadist ate the cake and the stripper inside we had to work with what we got, our hearts go out to her family. We've got even Zack Malibu's O-Town albums, and Alix's Kidz Bop CDs. So come on down and get your inner pedophile on! No [i]Dateline To Catch a Predator[/i] hidden cameras are gonna jump out and bust you as you get your freak on to the scintillating sounds of ten year old boys singing [i]Promiscuous Girl[/i]! Anything goes at this shingdig! And maybe, just maybe we can talk about this little incident with Los Diablos De Fuego, and your teeny tiny little argument with The Lonestar Gunslingers from last week. And just a disclaimer for your benefit: When I say talk, I really mean bash your skulls into oblivion with these field hockey sticks, and use your juicy brain matter to feed the homeless. So please come down, because I wanna party!

Before Krista can further provoke the Bruisers, Alix snatches the microphone from her. Holding the mic in one hand, Ally picks up the deflated primate, Mono, and gazes upon it with sorrowful eyes.

ALIX
Who among us has not, whilst tenderly ravishing oneself underneath the nebulous beauty of an early morn's dew, passing fancies upon the spires of the Golden Gate Bridge, eating a brightly crisp apple while sweetly interlacing one's moistened lips with a ripe virginal lady and thinking to the leather-bound volume of Baudelaire pressed in one's garment, thought to the classic characters that define our fair and modest entertainment mediums? Thus, I entreat you, heartless hinds, as you gloat over the desiccation of this primordial creature to consider what blithesome revelry his sub species has anointed our sapience with. Since the dawn of man, monkey's have worked tirelessly behind the scenes to secretly manipulate the very course of humanity as we know it! Now, gather close my little lambs because your Grandma Alix is about to spit that hot fire. My dad took me to enough gay bathhouses as a child that I've picked up a few life lessons and some good stories to share. And I've got a truly heartwarming tale for you tonight. It's a story of a wonderful primate. A sweet caring beast, with a terrible case of tourette's syndrome, and partner of a nazi jewel thief, who makes his escape from a five star communist controlled hotel on the eve of the season's biggest social event! Now, I'm not gonna lie to you, mayhem, cultural misunderstandings, and your fair share of off and on the set bestiality may have occurred. And I'm not gonna make excuses for him, as an orangutan capable of building a profitable and fully functional meth lab in his basement, he should've known better. But when the sexually repressed ten year old son of the hotel manager needed a welcoming and loving partner to safely explore his blossoming homosexuality with, that underwear sniffing ape was there, dude. You see, [i]Dunston checked in that day[/i], and maybe he grabbed a few of the more attractive and underage bellboys in their no-no spots, and he left an unholy mess in the mini bar fridge, and maybe he racked up an obscene amount of charges for the various pornographic movies he ordered on Spectravision over the course of his stay, but, god damn it, America, Dunston didn't check out!

Tears begin to well in the corner of Alix's eyes

ALIX
Dunston left us back in 1990 ,his legal affairs a jumbled mess, his once legendary estate in shambles, his wife a raving alcoholic, and his son a heroin overdose away from the grave. It puts a smile on my face and sadness in my heart that I watch his story unfold every year on the anniversary of his death. It is with tear stained eyes and a heavy heart that I ask you, America, after witnessing the mistreatment of his fellow primate, Mono, tonight, can you continue to perilously ignore Dunston's blood curdling cry for vengeance from beyond the grave?

“NO!!!!”

ALIX
Then let's grow some hair on our nads, burn our bras, tip some cop cars, crank up the Hendrix, and burn this motherfucker down!

“YEAH! KILL WHITEY! KILL WHITEY! KILL WHITEY!”

ALIX
Slide, slide, slippity slide, Bruisers, our fantastic voyage has yet to come a close, and I'm about to knock you on a magic carpet ride to the moon. Not only have you brought the pool cue of animal cruelty down on Mono, wrestling's true MVP, most valuable primate, but you've also gay bashed my amigos, the beef in my burrito, the taco in my bell, the Mex in my ico, the Che in my Guevara, the batteries in my vibrator, Los Diablos De Fuego! And for what? To draw us out like pictionary, awesome game by the way, we must play sometime, I will own you so hard. Well here we are on the canvas in living color like David Alan Grier and Damon Wayans in men on film. But just like the foppish duo featured on that short lived but way hilarious early nineties comedy sketch show, you happen to be acting like a pair of sissies! We're here in the ring, ready to rumble like our name was David Arquette and this was a WCW endorsed movie worthy of a billion and one Oscars and a few Nobel Peace Prizes. But when you saw us, you hauled up the ramp like we're more dangerous then the LAPD. We may be women but it's obvious you're the....

“PUSSIES!” screams the crowd.

ALIX
I was going to say the passage leading from the uterus to the vulva in certain female mammals. But I guess your way was more concise and had a little bit more oomph. Did you notice the part where I said only certain female mammals. How much does it just totally suck to be that female mammal without a vagina? How horribly, horribly, horribly, horrible must that person's life be? Christian Wright our prayers go out to you!

KRISTA
Sweetie, I know your modern day Voltaire in bloom, but why don't you hold off on your wonderful insights until we're back at the hotel. Even the finest wines need time to age! As for you two, if you're not going to come down here and let me peel your face off your head with a nail file, then maybe you can tell us what exactly it is that you want.

UBER
(snarling)
What do we want? What do you think we want?

ALIX
(singing)
If you want to be my lover, you have got to give, taking is too easy but that's the way it is!

BIG FRANK
Hey Alix, why don't you do something more useful with your mouth...like see if you can handle this 10 incher. Think of it as the start of your new career, because after we get what we want back -- the World tag team titles, which were stripped from us by a bullshit referee, working for a bullshit company in a bullshit match that was voted on by the stupidest, most ignorant, most moronic idiots on the face of this earth! -- you're not gonna want to step foot inside a wrestling ring ever again.

KRISTA
I'll give you working for a bullshit company...but the stupidest, most ignorant, most moronic idiots on the face of this earth? Tsk, tsk. That's no way to speak about your parents.

BIG FRANK
That's the problem with you screwed up sorority chicks. You're more keen on trading jokes with the Red Rooster and defending our belts against pretty boys who should have to earn their shot in the Anderson Cup rather than putting them on the line against the team who never lost those titles in the first place! Because of that you forced us to concoct a little scheme to get your attention and get ourselves back into tittle contention. I think you'll find it as impressive as my 25" anacondas.

Frank flaunts the largest arms in the world.

KRISTA
I'm just impressed by the fact that you can use words with more then one syllable.

ALIX
Hooked on phonics worked for you!

UBER
Heh, funny. Real funny. You know what would be even funnier? Heh heh heh. If we went down there right now and took your titles the American way...by force!

BIG FRANK
You broadband's just proved my point. Your hands will be covered in the blood spilled by our bruising until you give us what we want, a rematch. First it was those Brokenbackin' punks last week and Spezia's fag hags tonight. And you don't wanna know who we're gonna hit next if ya keep screwin' us out of title shots. If you think we're playing, if you think this a joke, try and test us and find out how deadly serious we really are. You've been gone for awhile, out the loop, so you don't know the kind of terror The Sooner Bruisers can hit the OAOAST with. Let me clue you into what kind of screwed up people you little girls are dealing with. We don't give a damn who we hurt, who's lives we ruin, who's careers we end, or who suffers at our hands. Human life doesn't matter, human emotions don't matter. The only people that matter are the people we see when we look in the mirror each morning and the only thing that matters is getting the tag team titles back around our waist. And until we get, them back, until you give us our due title shot, people will be hurt, people will suffer and blood will be shed in your name. Your return to the OAOAST and subsequent...

KRISTA
Subsequent? Look out Christian Wright, there's a new human dictionary in town.

BIG FRANK
Let's see how many quips you can get in standing next to your daughter's hospital bed, bitch.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!"

KRISTA
:firedevil:

BIG FRANK
That got your attention, didn't it? See, unlike us, you care whether or not people get hurt. We don't protest wars. We make them. 

KRISTA
Listen you, you goddamn poor excuse for a son of a bitch! You so much as say hi to my daughter, may all the higher powers in this world help save you from the wrath of a mother's scorn! I see you up on the ramp, smiling, laughing, thinking that we can't hurt you. You've got that Big Red S on your tights and you think that makes you Superman? Well, Clark Kent, we don't have any kryptonite, but you're about to find out how fast we can Christopher Reeve you. I say we because for better or for worse, Alix has become like a...

ALIX
Second mother... :)

KRISTA (CONT'D)
...big sister to my daughter Maya.

ALIX
:(

KRISTA
We're family, you're family, so we're gonna make like Richard Dawson and bring you a [i]Family Feud[/i]. If you ever mention my daughter again, we will leave you on an IV like Roman Numeral Four. Please believe that. And as for these tag team belts you covet so much; I got some bad news for you, kids, you taking these titles away from us is like is kind of like constipation, it's some shit that's not gonna happen.

“C-O-D! C-O-D! C-O-D!” chants the audience.

KRISTA
And don't even think about putting that microphone up to your lips to respond. Because I'm like Professor Xavier tapped into Cerebro, I can read your small as an anorexic midget minds, and I know exactly what you're gonna say. You're gonna bore the few viewers-who didn't rush to change the channel to [i]Real World/Road Rules[/i] challenge when they saw you come out-half to death by rambling on and on about bruising our asses. Honey, nobody pounds my ass. I pound THEIR ass!

UBER
(shouting)
Do you know who you're talking to? You bimbos are threatening six time NCAA wrest-

ALIX
Quiet, poopie head! No one cares about your amateur wrestling junk! So save your childhood stories of rolling around the mat with other gay/bi/curious teenage boys and engaging in fits of quasi dominant fondling and dry humping in an act of raging adolescent desires for rec.alt.sports.homerotic.grappling. Thank you drive through!

KRISTA
Alix, sometimes your words are like the trash strewn over the freeways of my native land. Anyway, Frank and guy also named Frank but not currently named Frank, if we're not gonna talk about amateur accomplishments, lets talk about some of your professional achievements. Because the way I see it you're pretty overconfident in your abilities despite having done nothing to justify it. Anything you've done, we already did and we did it long before you could even dream about it. Whatever you can't do we can. Whatever you want to be, we already are. We set trends, you follow them. We're blazing a trail, you're still struggling to get on the road. You say you've beaten Black T.....

ALIX
O-M-G translates into Oh My Gawd! You have one fluke win over Black T? Who even knows if that was legit? Maybe you had incriminating pictures of Dan Black in the bedroom with Bill Watts and the underage cast of [i]Zoe 101[/i] in furry costumes, and he had no choice but to let you win lest his secret obsession with Jamie Lynn Spears and Sonic the Hedgehog be exposed to the world! Hmmmm? Your one little win doesn't mean anything when we've already beaten them twice! Not only that but if you go down to the arcade and you see the high score on Street Fighter Two Championship Edition with the initials P-E-E that's so me rocking the high score and clever witticism game. So you best fall back lest you wind up like the M.Bison to our Chun-Li, and end up Jello pudding creek without a spoon for the delicious low fat Jello treats. And, despite what various rubber cement induced hallucinations tell me, maybe I can't hurl massive blue fireballs out of my hand, and perhaps I'm not a giant, green monster who can generate volts of electricity to shock my mortal enemies without incurring the wrath of federal prosecutors-thanks alot, Jodie Foster-but I'm pretty sure that me and my partner in state sponsored civil union, who happened to be a dancer for Guns N Roses, that'll be important in about two seconds, can take you down...take you down to the [i]Paradise City[/i] where the grass is green and the girls are pretty! Oh won't you please take me hooooooome?

KRISTA
Right. Well, you be...

ALIX
Hooooooooooome!

KRISTA
You bea....

ALIX
HOOOOOOOME!

KRISTA
......

ALIX
.....

KRISTA
You bea..

ALIX
HOOOOOOME!

KRISTA
You bea.....

ALIX
:headbang:

KRISTA
Stay calm, Krista, and remember your karma. Remember your Karma. Okay, you two beat the Heavenly Rockers, two guys who are so injury prone they might as well have been born with giant FRAGILE HANDLE WITH CARE stickers on their asses. What will be your next illustrious accomplishment? Beating up Bon Jovi and pushing Professor Stephen Hawking down a flight of stairs? Bruisers, not only have we defeated The Rockers, but we took their names away from them, made them our personal bitches for a whole month, then tossed them aside like yesterdays garbage, and never heard a peep from them again. But you keep going after them, and they keep coming back. If you were as bad as you say you are, they'd have one foot in the grave, and your foot in their ass. But the way it's going now, they're one verse away from shutting your mouthes for good.

The audience loudly cheers the thought of The Heavenly Rockers beating up their archrivals.

KRISTA
You beat down the Sk8r Bois and left them like Apollo Creed after Ivan Drago hit him? Well, if you're Drago that makes us Rocky, and that means at the end of this story we leave you flat on your back with no belt on your waist. If you die you die. Wake up and smell the truth gentlemen, I'm the woman who made the Sk8r Bois. Their mother gave them birth, but I gave them life. There wouldn't have even been Sk8r Boiz for you to beat if it weren't for me. It's exactly as I said, anything you've done, we've done it before and we did it so much better. You should've accepted your tag title loss like the nameless, faceless, mongoloid dopes that you are. When it comes to challengers for our titles, you're two people we aren't particularly worried about because we will beat your ass every time we see you for the rest of your life. You can jack up the not-so ambiguously gay duo, beat up Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and drop disses from in front of that Wizard Of Oz Curtain on the entrance stage all you want, but when that yellow brick road starts to crack you bitches better click your heels together three times and head back to Oklahoma, because we will break your jaw every time we see you, from now until forever. You feud with us and we'll bury you so far underground that your next match will be against Owen Hart and Chris Candido.

ALIX
Oh, yes, she did.

Frank shakes his head in a combination of disgust and outright anger before he finally opens his putrid mouth

BIG FRANK
Who can I blame for this? Who's neck can I wring, who's face can I pulverize, and who's kneecaps can I crack? Who is the person responsible for making you girls think you're equal to real people? Was it these inbred pieces of Australian white trash? Because they're the only ones dumb enough to let you believe you're anywhere near our level!

“BOOOOOO!”

BIG FRANK
Even though your both as skinny as toothpicks, and the veins in my 25" anacondas are bigger then your entire bodies, you still got in your head that you're actually in the same league as six time NCAA wrestling champions. Forget about being America's Sweet Hearts, we're America's Bad Asses, and there ain't nothing in this world except a sex change and whole lotta juice, that's gonna get you anywhere near the Sooner Bruiser's league. But that ain't gonna stop The Man of Tomorrow and the Psycho Gremlin from doing what needs to be done, and that's crushing you in a heartbeat. Don't think for a second that just because you're women you can talk all that trashed you just talked and not get the same beatings we dished out to those mirror obsessed pretty boys The Sk8r Boiz, and those no talent Vegas lounge singers the Heavenly Rockers. Ask that diseased dumpster slut, Holly-Wood just what Big Frank can do to a chick when she makes the mistake of crossing him. And over the span of one year she didn't say or do half of what you just did to me and my brother in the last ten minutes. Now you might even get beat worse just because you're girls. It's my duty as a red blooded American male to put you uppity skanks where you belong, on your knees and in front of my ****!

“YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!” chant the fans.

BIG FRANK
But even though you tried to take our heads off with hockey sticks, ran us down, and stole our championship belts, I'm not gonna hold it against ya. Don't get me wrong, we're gonna punish you, we're gonna break you, but I'm ain't gonna hold no grudge. After we take the belts back, and all the scores are settled, and the doctor clears you for release from the hospital we put you in, I'm gonna do a good deed for you two. I'm gonna give you both something you haven't had in a very long time. I'm gonna give you the gift of havin' a real, live, warmblooded man inside of ya, and not some seven inch piece of rubber that's attached to a leather harness. So go ahead and put your plug n play hardware back in the box because once you get on the hardrive with The Man of Tomorrow you won't find no floppy disk, just all the ram your system can handle. And don't worry about the anti-virus, because Big Frank always comes packing the trojans. So get your input devices ready because you never know when my output device will go into burst mode and spray that HotJava all over your size 32 bits. Right now you're screaming “I am woman here me roar”, but when I get you alone, all you'll be saying is “Oh, Frank, do me more!”

While the crowd boos Franks vulgar tirade, Krista quite literally looks as if she's about to explode in furious rage. Her skin turns several shades of red, and audience members in the front row begin to murmur thinking that she might actually go up the ramp to fight the duo. Somehow, Krista miraculously calms down long enough to propose an idea to her foes.

KRISTA
Wow that sounds,really,really, wonderful and inviting and not at all like something that makes me want to inhale the fumes from an exhaust pipe. But back to matters that don't make me wish an eight ton anvil would fall on your head; the tag team titles. Originally I was going to suggest that we wipe the ring with you at Anglepalooza. But if you feel that strongly about getting your rematch, if you're that passionate about being totally embarrassed by women who aren't even a quarter of your size, and if we've made you that upset, why don't we forget all about Anglepalooza and work out our issues right now? How's that sound? Why don't the people here in uh....um..uh....hey, what city are we in?

“MELBOURNE!”

KRISTA
I knew that! I knew that! I was just making sure you all knew what city you were in. A mind is a terrible thing to waste and to lose, although Alix seems to be getting along pretty well without it. Just a little public service announcement. Krista, like the NBA, cares. So, Bruisers, how about we give the people what they really wanna see?

ALIX
Nooooo not a tape of Mackenzie DeCenzo's drunken and lurid strip tease from the company's Chirstmas party, silly boys! But a tag team title match, here tonight on HeldDOWN!

The fans give a raucous response to Alix's suggestion.

KRISTA
I like it, the asses...I mean the masses, how silly of me, like it, Uber is such a poor actor that he's totally incapable of emoting anything that doesn't involve grunting or snarling but I'm sure he likes it also! So Sooner Bruisers from Tulsa, Oklahoma, come on down and get your beating...I mean rematch, again how silly of me, with the champs.

“YEAAAAAAAH”

BIG FRANK
Listen up, goldie crotch, when you're hoking up with The Man of Tomorrow you don't tell him when to come, he comes when he's damn good and ready.

ALIX
If backstage gossip is any indication then you'll be coming in about twenty seconds.

“OOOOOOOH”

That comment seems to draw Franks ire, and he begins a vile march towards the ring. Unfortunately for the excited audience, Uber interjects himself and manages to calm down his enraged sibling. Making no effort to keep his voice level, Frank puts the mic to his lips.

BIG FRANK
We ain't doing this tonight! So every last one of you can sit right back down in your seats and keep your traps shut, because you're not gonna get the pleasure of watching the two greatest amateur wrestlers of all time dominate a second rate Jane Fonda and her bulimic pillow biter. Not tonight! Ask anyone of The Man of Tomorrow's megabytes and they'll tell you Big Frank is all about the big finish. And the big finish never comes premature. So we're gonna wait until the moment is right to stop the talkin' and start the fightin'. And that moment is Anglepalooza, just like Hot Lips down there said.

COLE
Come on! The people want to see the rematch tonight!

BIG FRANK
And lemme clear up any confusion before these dingo humping, down under pieces of white trash start to think we're ducking you. You don't intimidate us. There ain't a man on this roster or who's ever worked in this company that intimidates me or my bro. And you're no men, you're a couple of loud mouth Frisco dykes who's bark is worse then your bite. There's an old question that asks what do you tell a woman with a black eye? The answer is nothing, she's already been told. The problem with you two is you don't have any black eyes, so you haven't even been told once. But me and my brother, being such good sports, are gonna tell you twice, just to make sure you get the point.

UBER
We hope you had your fun as champs, because in just two weeks, your reign is going to come to a very violent and very abrupt ending. You can't stop us from getting the titles back at Anglepalooza. We're gonna rip through you like machetes through watermelons. Ow, ow, ow, owwwwwww!

With that final howl [i]Frankenstein[/i] returns to arena forefront as the brothers make the infamous belt motion around their waists. Taunting the current champions, they back through the entrance doors, while various nearby crowd members lambaste them with insults and jeers. Never one to take no for an answer, Krista leans over the ropes and continues to order her enemies to come and face her. Meanwhile, Alix returns to the task of checking on her wounded friends, Los Diablos', condition.

COLE
Folks, there we have it, at Anglepalooza it will be the challengers, The Sooner Bruisers taking on the champions, Chicks Over Dicks. I know we all wanted to see the match tonight, but I'm sure at Anglepalooza those two teams will lay it all on the line for the tag team titles!

Edited January 12, 2007 by Patty O'Green