HD: COD Interview +match w/los conquestiawhatever

[Patty O'Green 0]

If this could go anywhere after the scm interview that would be ever so wonderful! Thank you!

 

COLE
Okay, folks, we've had a wonderful show so far, plenty more still to come, but for right now let's take it to Terry Taylor who is standing by backstage.

Right on cue, the view switches to Terry Taylor, backstage just as Cole promised. But no viewer's eyes are focused on the much maligned d-level announcer, rather all attention is locked on his interview subjects, tag team champions Chicks Over Dicks. Alix is attired in a pair of destroyed stone washed jeans, and a grey t-shirt that simply reads [B]I HATE MY GIRLFIEND[/B]. Krista, on the other hand,  is much more formal then her better half, decked out in an ultra chic three piece black business suit, and black fendi sunglasses. Taylor sports a Ray Emery [color="#FF0000"][b]Ottawa[/color] Senators[/b] jersey in a pitiful attempt to curry favor with the arena based fans. His sucking up fails miserably, and a small but audible “Terry touches boys” chant is heard over the venue microphones.

TERRY
Hello, world! Terry Taylor here, backstage in the Scotiabank Palace, with OAOAST world tag team champions, and close personal friends....

Not wishing to be associated with the likes of Terry Taylor, Krista slaps him upside the head.

TAYLOR
(continuing and correcting himself)
...and women who I psychotically obsesses over, Chicks Over Dicks. Girls, how are you on this Thursday evening?

ALIX
I'm pretty rad! Thank ya for asking, Double T. So whatcha-watcha-watcha want?

TAYLOR
I'd like for you to talk about tonight's challengers for your title belts, Los Conquistadors.

ALIX
Then let's talk about 'em! Dude, I know we've got this whole any one who wants a title shot can get one thing going on, but this like that awful Gnarls Barkley song radio DJ's across the country continue to torment my ears with, is a lil craaaazy. Dontcha think? Yeah I really do think! On the list of tag teams that actually, you know, deserve a title shot, Uno, bitchin' card game sucky wrestler, and Dossy-Dos rank at number sixty. There are only like twelve tag teams here! That means there are um.uh..lemme get my math on..subtract the four carry the one, multiply the exponent, change the bed linen, add the negative nine, remember to get some dog food on the way home, subtract the exterior quotient from the Pythagorean fraction, the capital of Ohio is Columbus...there's six hundred and seventy two billion imaginary tag teams ahead of them! And that's a heck of a lot of imagination! And speaking of, why don't we all take a voyage on the SS imagination, were our primary destination is adventure and McDoanlds, because I totally have to get one of those new Catscratch Happy meals. And while we're aboard the SS Imagination let's all try to imagine what could have been going through Uno and Dos' mind when they actually signed up for this happenin' partay. Hey, Krissy, what comes before Part B?

TAYLOR
Part A.

ALIX
Hi, is your name Krissy? Because if it is, you two have the same name! Oh my god, isn't that so cool? You can be sisters! Anyway, Uno and Dos. Yeah, we kinda abandoned the whole SS Imagination ship, but what seriously what are those dudes thinking? Them taking a title shot makes even less then Mr.T  having a reality show on TV land where he comes and gives advice to people who's lives, like, suck and stuff.   Now the show's concept makes a lot of things, it makes me wanna puke, it makes me wanna vomit, it makes me wanna throw up, and it makes me wanna upchuck, but it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. How are you gonna try to help someone else with some messed up family issues when you still running around  own in a velour sweat suit and a Mohawk? You're the one with the issues, call A&E we need an [i]Intervention[/i]. You the fool we need to pity, no one else. I saw an episode and he comes [i]running[/i] down the street at the start. Running! Dude, you don't have a car? It's  2007 and you don't have a car. My dad has a car and he's been in jail for six years. He's got no place to go and nothing but time and he's still got a car. He doesn't even have his own bathroom, he has to shower with his back against the wall, and he's got a car. You've got thirty minutes to help someone with some serious situation and you're out there running, chugging along like the Little Engine that could. I think I can, I think I can, I think can. None of the other A Team could throw a car pool together for B.A. Baracus? If I see Mr T, I'm running to. What can Mr.T possibly help you with? "Oh no! My husband just got layed off, my son needs a heart transplant or else he'll die and we have no health insurance. And I just found out they want to take the house away from us. Maybe I should just sell my body on the streets." Mr.T  comes jogging along to solve all your problems; "I'ma help you!" If the only two ways out of the poorhouse are Mr.T or prostitution, give me the high heels, trashy makeup and direct me to the nearest street corner, dude. And if I was Los Conquistadors, I'd take my chances on the street corner also, and forget all about this silly wrestling stuff, because I don't really see this whole tag title thingie majig working out toooo well for them!

TAYLOR
I guess we won't be looking forward to a Mr.T appearance at Anglemania! And Krista, how are you?

KRISTA
I'm just horrible, Terry! My maid, totally legal, naturalized citizen of the United States, keep Lou Dobbs away from me, just called me and told me that my cat, Billie Jean, died! And that we're out of Windex. But I can always go to the store and replace the Windex.

ALIX
But how can she replace the pieces of her broken heart?

TAYLOR
Ah....that's....well...um...bad and all, but that's not really what I expected you to say...

KRISTA
Huh?

TAYLOR
Well, you know, I was kind of hoping you would..uh...say something funny...

KRISTA
My cat just died, Terry. I've had that cat since I was in college, that's seventeen years we've been together. It was like a sister to me. My daughter loved that pretty kitty, I don't even think she'll be able to get out of bed to go to school tomorrow. Even [i]Ned[/i] adored Billie Jean! And this is the man who on our third date, punched a kid in a wheelchair, then tried to justify it by saying “His chin wasn't in a wheelchair, dude should've bobbed and weaved!” But [i]you[/i] think I should push all that pain aside and be Sandra god damn Bernhard for your amusement? That's all I am to you? A one woman Saturday Night Live? I'm in pain, Terry Taylor! My family has been torn apart in the span of six hours, and you're looking for an HBO comedy special? What kind of twisted human being are you?

TAYLOR
It's just when I asked how you were doing, I didn't really want to know how you were actually doing.

KRISTA
If you don't want to know how I was doing, why the hell would you ask how I was doing?

TAYLOR
It's more of a greeting. I say “How are you?” and you say “Hey there.”

KRISTA
What? That doesn't even make sense as a reply! If you ask me what time is it I don't say “yes, I'd like side of scrambled eggs with that.” I give you a logical, and hopefully accurate reply.  If you say “Hi, Krista, how are you?” I don't answer “Instant Shine shoe polish should not be used on suede, nubuk, and fabrics. Keep out of reach of children.” You ask me how I was doing, and I told you, but now you're upset. That's like dumping kerosene on yourself, lighting a match and getting butthurt when you catch on the fire! Once you ask a question, that sentence is out of your hands, you can't control the response. You have dissolved yourself of all responsibilities and ownership. You have turned that right over to the askee. 

ALIX
I'm seeing feelings, sweetie pie, but I'm not hearing them. Vocalize your anger, honey bunches of oats. Vocalize.

TAYLOR
You're not helping, Alix. Krista..

KRISTA
Don't even talk to me, you sicko. There is not a word in the English dictionary that could even attempt to describe the loathing I hold in my heart for you. You have finally pushed me over the edge. I could take your stalking, your constantly leaving your yeast infection medication in my car, you and Alix putting blue food coloring in my protein shake and saying Papa Smurf peed in it, your sixty page, graphically illustrated, sex stories, and even your life size erotic pottery, but today, you have pissed me off beyond the point of no return. I'd like to think I'm within my rights to take a brick and slam it into your nasty, disgusting, abhorrent, monkey mouth face. But the truth is I can't hit you, Terry Taylor. Believe me I would very much like to punch a hole through your chest and give your still beating heart to the man behind you. I'd consider it Christmas/Kawanza/Hanukkah/Ramadan/other miscellaneous non secular holiday/ morning if I could stomp the everlasting shit out of you. But in this miserable-tax me out of my freaking mind-country we have these pesky things called laws. And laws being what they are, and my home state having a certain three strikes rule, and me having two strikes (with several foul balls) against me, I just can't break 'em as easily as I did during my rebellious ”dykes on bikes” years. But all is not hopeless, Chicken Hawk. Because what I can do is take out all the aggression and all the rage that you, Miss Congeality, have brought to me out on my opponents, Los Diablos....

ALIX
Los Conquistadors, silly! Los Diablos are the friends we have so we can show all our equally liberal Caucasian friends how cool and open minded we are by hanging out with non threatening ethnic minorities.

KRISTA
Hmmm. They all look like alike to me. But not because they're Mexican, don't drop the dime to Ariana Huffington, but because they wear masks. Back to the point, Terrence. I was content to wrestle a simple, straightforward affair. My heart was on fire with passionate love for the opportunity to put on an exhibition that would showcase the pure and innocent competition that is the heart of this sport's appeal. I would've used some headlocks, some arm drags, maybe even a side Russian leg sweep, I've never used a side Russian leg sweep before. Tonight, I was really going to do it, I was going to stay true to my promise and use that move. But, you ruined it by making an early push for douchebag of the year. Although the fact that you're still breastfeeding at forty eight years old, may have guaranteed you that little honor from now until eternity. Now two innocent victims, two people who I didn't even know existed before tonight, have to get punished because you have a harder time keeping your mouth shout then that homophobic bimbo Kelly Ripa. And when I say I want to punish Los Conquistadors, I mean I want to grab a wooden table douse it in gasoline, flick open a lighter, then power bomb them through it, and watch with vast joy as the flames cook me two authentic Mexican burritos and the thirty six year old virgin shut ins in the audience chant “She's a crackwhore! She's a crackwhore!” Unfortunately, there's a slight problem with that disturbing but oh so entertaining plan, Terry Taylor. There's always a problem. My life wouldn't be complete without problems. It would be like the Jackson Five without Douglas. But there was no Douglas in the Jackson five, you say! Don't correct me, you rat bastard! Haven't your callous actions done enough damage to my fragile heart for one day? Problemo numero uno, fire scares Alix. A lot.

ALIX
Terribly terrible incident when I was a widdle bunny wabbit! Birthday party, barbecue pit, clown, balloon animals, helium, made the elven o'clock news, food at the funeral was pretty radical, however.

KRISTA
Second problem, those tables are insanely hard to set up. You have pull the metal legs out, and you don't know if they're gonna stay out or not, because sometimes it looks like you've got it and then it just folds back up, and they're heavy and who wants to drag those things all the way into the ring? It's just a big enormous hassle. Third problem, although I am a virtual Paul Bunyan when it comes to the size of my expansive and superior intellect, in actual physical stature, I'm kind of....small. Have you looked at me at lately, Terry? All men and women do, desperately longing to taste my little slice of heaven. And I know you have because you're a twisted pervert who's staring at my boobs right now, even though I just told you that the cat I've had since I was eighteen died while I'm thousands of miles away from home. Anyway, the point is I'm not exactly on the short list of women to be casted as She Hulk, if you get what I'm saying. I just can't go into the ring and say “ME KRISTA! ME ANGRY! ME SMASH! ME DISCOMBOBULATE ANTI MATTER”. I mean technically I could say all of that, but it would most likely result an equally angry and much larger individual belly to belly suplexing my limp and battered body into the third row. And if you've taken a look at some of the rat teeth, nugget mouth, booger bears in the stands, you can guess why I'm slightly adverse to landing face down on their laps. But what I can do, I can do better then anyone else who's ever had the displeasure of meeting you, and that's humiliate someone. America's got talent, and so does Krista, and that talent is the utter embarrassment and lengthy drawn out emasculation of grown men.

ALIX
She's right! Look at you, Terry, you might as well spend the rest of your days in a mini skirt, Guess pumps, and Revlon lip stick. Hey, it happened to me! I used to be Darnell Washington from Inglewood, the hardest banger in the set. One day I'm doing drive bys, the next day I'm in Krista's kitchen, wearing a sundress, voting democrat, and baking cookies for GLAAD meetings.

KRISTA
And what happened to young Darnell is precisely what I plan on doing tonight. It's a good thing Los Conquistadors wear masks, otherwise they'd have a mighty difficult time showing their face in public again. Actually they're going to have to remove their masks just so they can't be recognized by the cruel and mocking public. Because if people see them on the street in those masks they'll be screaming “Hey! Aren't you those idiots who got humiliated by that devilishly sexy, outrageously intelligent, youthful looking, and  all around queen of the galaxy, Krista Isadora Duncan? You are! You, bums, you need your testicles taken from you! You sons of bitches are nothing but women with pee holes in their underwear! GET OUT!” That's what'll happen, so I suggest you get used to life without your masks or face paint,or whatever it is you use to cover up the fact that you look worse then the hooker Terry Taylor paid sixty bucks to go to his senior prom with, because I'll humiliate you so hard, you'll be holding your head in your hand, sobbing like unwashed babies,  and asking god why I just embarrassed you without respect to your church and your family “I had no choice, God! I didn't deserve it, God! The sanctity of my virginity was violated, God! It wasn't right God! It wasn't right!” You're damn straight it wasn't right, just like it wasn't right for Terry Taylor to expose his whoreishness by not caring about the tragedy that's destroying my life, and by staring at my ass even though I'm a grieving mourner who just lost her childhood pet! So when you get backstage and you want to find someone to blame for the fact that you gotta spend the rest of your days in shame and embarrassment, then Terry Taylor is the chicken you wanna have fried like Kentucky. I'm Krista Isadora Duncan and you better ask somebody who knows so you can know to.

TAYLOR
Los Conquistadors, I know one thing, you're in big trouble..and..uh..I'm sorry about that, I didn't even know she had a cat, my fault guys. Girls, one last thing, The South Central Militia, the team you beat last week to become three time tag team champions, say the issue of the title belts isn't dead, and that they have a plan, so to speak. What do you say to that?

KRISTA
The issue, if you even want to call it that, is d-e-a-d, dead. Why? Because I say it is. And as for their plan, I think gender reassignment surgery is a fantastic idea! Saves me the trouble of having to do it myself! But, watch out for menopause, it's a killer.

ALIX
Do ya still get menopause if ya switch your kibbles and bits?

TAYLOR
Something for our enlightened and open minded fans, all two of them, to ponder, I'm certain. Girls, thank you very much.

ALIX & KRISTA
You're welcome, Terry!

TAYLOR
Fans, we'll be back with you shortly. Stay tuned to OAOAST television.

[B]COMMERCIAL BREAK[/B]

[B]THE OPPOSITE OF COMMERCIAL BREAK[/B]

Hole's rendition of [i]Golddust Woman[/i] comes through the PA system, as an image of Los Conquistadors standing side by side appears on the Angletron. While the arena lights settle into a stark gold glow, flashes of Los Conquistadors highlights in the OAOAST come onto the big screen. Unfortunately, there aren't many highlights to speak of, so the same three enter a repeat cycle. That doesn't seem particularity important, however, as the audience has turned their attention to the entrance stage where a dilapidated steel cage rises from a platform. Housed within the metallic jail are Uno and Dos, looking far different then they did the last time they were seen on OAOAST television. Outfitted in matching gold and black PVC bodysuits, with their names etched in white cursive on the back, and thigh high white platform boots, the formerly comedic pair make for an unusual presence. Eager to escape their dungeon, they rattle their cage, until a nearby stagehand arrives to set them free. Uno repays his kindness by shoving the underpaid servant to the steel floor. And Dos shows his own despicable side by hurling a wad of spit onto the weeping man. The two warriors pound their fist together, then traverse to the ring amidst the confused murmur of the audience.

BUFFER
The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a time limit of twenty five minutes. It is for the OAOAST World Tag Team Titles! Introducing first the challengers, weighing in at a combined weight of three hundred and twenty pounds, they hail from Santa Fe, New Mexico by way of Tijuana, Mexico, The Wild Chicano, Uno, The Mexican Maniac, Dos, they are the baddest men in Latin America, they are LOS CONQUESTIADOOOOORSSS!

The conclusion of the announcement causes the ramp based Conquistadors to toss up their arms in triumph. Dos even goes as far as to do a backflip in celebration of his own greatness. The audience, who can't quite figure out what happened to the hapless Mexican duo, and why their getting a tag title shot, sit in “stunned” silence.

COACH
What the hell is going on here? Where's the basic masks, the simple and ugly spandex tights, the lack of entrance music, the lack of any sort of entrance period. Now they've got fancy black and gold bodysuits with their names written on them, gold face paint, gelled hair, platform boots, entrance music to go along with a flashy entrance style, and what's more, they have a hometown now!

COLE
Well, Los Conquistadors must've hit the finest costume shops and image makeover clinics New Mexico has to offer, because they've come out looking like legit stars for their first ever tag team title match. We'll see if the new look breeds success, although, I have my doubts.

Uno enters the ring first and gives the ropes a vigorous shake, while yelling in Spanish. Slightly more calm, Dos strolls along the apron, pounding his gloved fist against his bodysuit.

COACH
Obviously, Alix and Krista didn't learn their lesson from last weeks ordeal. You don't just go giving title shots left and right. Just because someone asks you to do something, doesn't mean you gotta go and do it. I ask Krista to have sex with me every Thursday, and each time she pushes me down a flight of stairs. So she knows how to say no.

COLE
I don't think Los Conquistadors pose quite the same threat as The Militia, no offense intended to these fine athletes.

[i]Los Angeles[/i], Sugarcult's ferocious ode to the entertainment capital of the world is heard loud and clear over the arena sound system. What's heard even louder is a monstrous roar of excitement from the fans. Every last audience member rises to their feet in unbridled anticipation of the two wrestlers soon to appear. A chant of “C-O-D” goes up when a gorgeous [color=#FF0000][b]red[/color][/b] pyro waterfall dives onto the stage below. The chant only increases in decibel level when the waterfall is met with an equally astounding [color=#FF3399][b]pink[/color][/b] pyro fountain. Once those fireworks vanish a majestically royal [color=#FFFF33][b]gold[/color][/b] pyro wall rips to life, overtaking the entire entrance stage in it's radiance. As the yearning chorus of the song kicks in, the Californian duo of Chicks Over Dicks steps through smoky cloak. Their apperance is marked with a thundering cheer from the Ottawa natives, many of whom hoist their pro-COD signs and t-shirts high into the sky. 

COACH
Terry Taylor is a bigger fool then we all thought. All you gotta say is “sorry you're cat died”, and leave it at that. Now Los Conquestiadors are in for prolonged humliation, while he's backstage sipping coffee, and stuffing his face with donuts.

Alix, bedecked in sizzling white booty shorts, matching white tube top, and an array of faux fur covered wrist bands and boots, dances along the steel stage, rocking her shapely body back and forth, sending the fans into further frenzy. Krista, lock into an arrogant pose infront of the door way, is outfitted in a frilly Heatheratte™ rainbow patterned mini skirt, and spotless white tennis shoes. She off sets the girly lower body wear by sporting a “distressed” black Monarchy™ hoodie, featuring Archaic old English text, a rebellious rose graphic, and gothic zipper on the front. Somehow she manages to take her hyperactive gal pal's hand into her's and twirl her around like a ballroom dancer, before sucking her into tight embrace. Alix turns over her shoulders, brushes a strand of her brown locks out her face, and tosses a bewitching kiss to the camera, causing cute super imposed [color="#FF0000"][b]red[/b][/color] lips to pop on the screen.

BUFFER
And the champions...., first, from Los Angeles, California, she is the CEO of Mrs.Spezia's sweeties, the Hollywood Bad Girl, ALIX MARIA SPEZIA! And her partner, from Los Angeles, California, she is a best selling author, a fitness queen, and star of the world famous FIT with KID line of exercise videos, she is Miss California Krista Isaodra Duncan! Together they are three time OAOAST world tag team champions, America's Sweethearts, Chicks Over Dicks!

As she takes position on the ring apron, Krista looks over her foes for the night with an amused shock. She expected them to fit the mold of the hulking Neanderthals her team has had to war against since returning to the OAOAST. To see that they're just rail thin twerps in fetish costumes brings a great smile to her face. She's so thrilled by this fact, that she ushers Ally out of the ring, and takes her place. Of course Alix has to offer a nugget of “wisdom” before she departs, “Beware trusted girl companion, for evil is a foot, and we must proceed with great caution!”

Brushing aside Alix's inane warning, Krissy enages Uno in a lockup. She begins to push her fellow cruiserweight towards a vacant corner, however he slips through a crack in the hold, ending her attempt. Seconds later he attaches his hands around her neck in a front headlock. Krista instantly begins fighting against his clutches, digging her nails into his painted face. As streaks of red begin to appear through the black masking, Uno tries to subdue the blond bombshell by dragging her down to the canvas. Krista subverts this attempt by placing her hands onto his PVC suit and ushering him to the cables. He returns in triumph, bowling her over with a shoulderblock. Leaving her prone body on the mat, he skips to the cables, reading to crush her with a bodysplash on his trip back. But the plan goes awry when he notices that Krista is on her feet, prepared to impale his gut with her lowered head. He thinks on his platformed feet, and leapfrogs over her attacking body. But his offensive showing ends at that excat moment, as Krista rifles a left hand into his jaw the second he lands. A right impacts disgustingly above his left eye, then another left rips at the cartilage in the bridge of his nose. As he's left dizzied by the trio of strikes, Krista takes a moment to showup her overmatched foe. She pulls a compact mirror from her top, then flips it open to admire her fetching beauty. Finally she plants a kiss on her gorgeous reflection, and discards the mirror into the stands, where the eager audience lustily brawls over it. She then turns her attention back to Uno, and pastes him with a crowd popping lariat. The force of the strike puts him on the ground, where he can scarcely see past the salty tears in his eyes. While he fights a losing battle to stand up, his pesky rival carts herself to ropes. But instead of running back in the normal fashion, she once again takes an opportunity to belittle her opponent. Paying “homage” to his Mexican heritage, Krista salsa dances her way towards Uno.  Her curvy hips gyrate in ultra spicy seduction, while her arms wiggle through a pattern of mesmerizing euphoria. Unfortunately for Uno the end result of the taunting is anything but euphoric, as Krista sinks her knee into his forehead. While the audience salutes her fetching show, she hooks Uno's leg for a pin. Eighty six year old referee Clem Buzllefoxer counts the fall.

ONE

TWO

Clem's Alzheimer's strikes at a most inopportune moment, forcing him to forget what comes after two! This crucial delay allows Uno to kickout of what might have been a match ending pinfall. Yet, his escape doesn't grant him the chance to go on the attack, as Krista hauls him upright and shoots him towards the ropes. He returns to her much faster then she would've liked, and as such she's caught off guard by the speedy grappler. He uses her confusion to his advantage by placing his hands onto her shoulders, and using them as a base to leverage himself behind her. The shift pushes her off balance, but Uno locks her in place with a pump handle set up. Kicking and grunting, Krissy tries to free herself from the luchadore's pinions, but the hold is locked in too deeply. Uno drags her into the sky, then roughly deposits her into the floor with the pump handle slam. He quickly moves to cover her, and the official counts his pin.

ONE

Alix ends the pinfall with a boot to Uno's skull! Her vexatious meddling causes Uno to direct several crude comments her way. Fluent in Spanish, Alix replies in kind, and it looks for the moment that a full scale donnybrook might erupt from this verbal warfare. But Clem talks cooler heads into prevailing, and Alix eventually departs to her corner. With Ally dismissed, Uno drags Krista to his corner where he makes the tag to his associate, Dos. The Mexican Maniac's arrival into the affair is greeted by an embarrassing chill of silence. He takes his anger over the utter lack of crowd response out on his enemy by savagely punting her arm while Uno holds it in place. As Krista recoils in pain, Uno departs the ring, leaving Dos by his lonesome with their prisoner. The Maniac takes hold of Krista's sore arm, preparing to further torment the limb with an arm drag. But that plan encounters a horrid failure, when Krista slashes her free hand into Dos' throat. Now more concerned with the struggle to breathe then the struggle to win a match, Dos allows his rival to go free. Krista utilizes this newfound freedom to retreat to her corner and bring gal pal, Alix Spezia into the match.

“ALIX! ALIX! ALIX!” bleat the now standing crowd.

Alix works her legion of adoring fans into a higher state of jubilation by staying on the ring apron and rocking out with an air guitar concert. The simple exhibition elicits a grand reaction from the audience, and the volume of the “Alix” chants increase ten fold. Once she's satisfied with the sky high noise level, she hooks her arms around the top rope, kicks her legs up, and gracefully flips her limber body into the squared circle. Dos attempts to give her rather rude welcoming into the affair, and attacks her with a shoulder block. But The Hollywood Bad Girl blocks his volley by stabbing her fuzzy boot into his rotund midsection. The shot bends Dos over in anguish, and has him hacking and coughling like an asthma suffer. But most importantly it permits Ally Cat to trap him into a front underhook. Moving quickly, she peels backwards and spikes his head into the stone solid canvas with a double arm ddt. Amazingly, The Mexican Maniac is able to spring to his feet just seconds after the cringe worthy move. Yet, he's not able to mount any sort of offensive thanks to his plucky enemy depositing him into the ropes with an Irish whip. When he returns, she wraps her arms around the one hundred fifty pounder's waist then rockets him into the arena air with a flapjack! Surprisingly, Dos succeeds in tying his scrawny legs around her neck for a hurricanrana. But Alix has zero intention of letting his reversal see the light of day, and counters his counter with a crowd pleasingsit out powerbomb! Buzzlefoxer moves into position to count the ensuing fall.

CROWD
ONE

CROWD
TWO

But Dos scrapes his shoulder off the mat right as the referee was prepared to count three.

“Oh Poopie!” A comically dejected Alix responds to the kickout. She'd love the chance to debate the pinfall with the senile offical, but she has more pressing matters to attend to, chiefly Uno descending upon her with a top rope bodysplash! The adorable champion reacts with preternatural quickness, heading to her feet, reaching over her shoulder, and anxiously awaiting the luchadore to fall into her trap. When she feels the coareness of his facepaint graze her collarbone, she attaches her hands around his head, then dives backwards to pulverize him with a diamond cutter!

“YEAAAA!”

The Wild Chicano bellows in misery, felling the horrible after affects of his ill advised attack. He rolls out of the ring, clutching his battered face, and leaving his partner to fend for himself. However, Dos fares far better then his ally in dealing with the California girl and surprises her with a side Russian leg sweep. Not wanting these precious seconds of momentum to expire, he holds onto her body and rolls them to their feet. Once he gets fully upright, he drops downwards with a second side russian leg sweep. Again he makes an effort to repeat the sequence and brings the pair to their feet. But his success ends at this very point, as Alix ducks down, ties her leg between his inner thigh, then rolls forward, overtaking him into a pinning predicament. While the audience roots on her crafty pinfall, Clem  gets in position to score it..

CROWD
ONE

CROWD
TWO

Dos slides out of the unusual pinfall, shooting to his feet as he does so. Problematically for him, the brown haired babe springs onto his scrawny shoulders the second that he rises. Dos entertains the idea of plastering her along the floor with a sitout powerbomb, but isn't able to turn that dream into reality thanks to Ally Cat shifting into a victory roll position. Now Dos concocts the brilliant scheme of annihilating her with an electric chair drop. But he's foiled once more, as The Hollywood Bad Girl whips her enemy sparkling head over sparking heels with an inverted hurricanrana! Dos' mellon suffers a vile impact into the canvas, with his neck crunching awkwardly against the beige surface. 

COACH
I guess clothes don't always make the man, because these guys have fancy new costumes, and they're still hot garbage.

The frazzled luchadore beats a hasty retreat to the outside, selfishly forcing his partner to enter the ring, lest his team be counted out. Thanks to the fact that they're wearing identical costumes, and the fact that blind as a bat Clem can't read the big white “Uno” on his back, The Wild Chicano is allowed unhindered entry into the match by the official. Alix is another story entirely, however, and she greets Uno's return with a pair of thudding elbow strikes. The blows have Uno wobbling from side to side in extreme dizziness, but Ally steadies him by draping his arm across her's. Her assistance to her beleaguered foe ends there, and she brutally throws him to the canvas with her world famous True Life: I Just Got Beat up by a Girl (STO). The crowd roars their approval for the signature spot, as Uno lies on the mat besieged by miserable anguish. Alix celebrates her victory, by tossing kisses to the cheering spectators.

COLE
John, what do you think The South Central Militia meant earlier tonight when they said they had  a plan?

COACH
I hope they meant taking you up to San Fran and tossing you off the golden gate bridge.

Bored with thrashing the luckless pair from Mexico, Alix decides to let Krista in on the fun. She [i]moonwalks[/i] to her corner and makes the tag to her surly partner. Miss California's appearance earns a cheer from everyone in the arena, except for Uno who makes a mad dash to his corner to avoid a sound whupping from KID.  But Krista halts his escape by sling shotting herself across the ring, and slamming her shoes into his back. She allows him to rise on his power, then drives a pair of elbows into his cranium before Irish whipping him towards a neutral corner. Krissy trails his path, looking to sandwich him between her body and the turnbuckle posts with a corner splash. But this plan goes quite wrong when Uno, seconds before he's to meet the corner pads, grabs onto the top ropes and uses them to push himself into the air. An alarmed Krista instantly slams on the breaks, avoiding a disastrous collision with the ring posts. But the fitness queen isn't quite in the clear, as airborne Uno entangles his legs around her neck. To the crowd's delight, the femme fatale quickly disposes of the irksome grappler by latching onto his inner thigh, yanking him away from the corner, and dropping him onto the top rope, savagely impaling his neck on the stiff cable. A muffled shriek leaves Uno's throat, as he flops to the canvas clutching his badly injured neck. 

“KRISTA! KRISTA! KRISTA!” yells the audience.

COLE
Sometimes it looks like Los Conquistadors might be able to string together a decent round of attacks, then other times it looks like they may be the worst team on earth.

Feeling a teeny-tiny amount of pity for Uno's startling inability to do anything that doesn't involve getting beat up by women, Krista choses to challenge him to the only contest he could possibly beat her in; an arm wrestling match. She lies on her stomach, and offers her arm for a duel. Thankful for a reprieve from the horrific beatings, The Wild Chicano eagerly accepts her invitation to the unorthodox battle. He interlaces his fingers with her's and they promptly begin wasting everyone's time with an arm wrestling match. Being one buff mama, Krista has little trouble in overwhelming the disturbingly out of shape luchadore, who's grunting and sweating like he's trying to move the rock of Gibraltar, rather then arm wrestling a sub 150 pound, middle aged mother. Krissy merely smiles at him, as he continues to encounter spectacular failure in moving her arm even half an inch. Unfortunately for him, the embarrassment over being trounced at an arm wrestling match becomes the least of his worries, as the sometimes clever Alix Spezia, takes advantage of his vulnerable position by descending upon his frame with a spring board shooting star press!

COLE
Uh oh!

“[b]¡Guárdese![/b]” a worried Dos bellows from the outside. But the warning comes too late for poor Uno, and Alix comes crashing down onto his back, to the immense enjoyment of the arena's entire population. Ally leaves the ring as quickly as  she entered while tossing kisses to her adoring fans. The victim of her sneaky attack erupts with a volcanic scream of agony, as pain continues to gush throughout his back. To add insult to injury, Krista slams his arm to the canvas, officially claiming victory in their unusual arm wrestling affair. She then then dumps one final bit of salt into Uno's wounds by lying on top of him for a pinfall. The official drops to his knees to make the count.

CROWD
ONE 

CROWD
TWO

Dos breaks up the pinfall, which means his ally will not earn the dubious distinction of being the first wrestler to ever be pinned from an arm wrestling defeat. Unfortunately for the New Mexico native, his insistence on saving his associate looks to have come at the expense of his good health, as Krista zeros in on him with a lariat. He ducks bellow her attacking arm, causing her to recklessly zoom past. This moment of carelessness would be the perfect chance for him to decimate her lovely facial features with a superkick. However Krista turns that idea into a pipe dream, by leaping into his chest, and pressing her knees into his flabby pecs while her hands tighten around his collarbone. She cannonballs backwards, causing the downward momentum to dish an inordinate amount of pain to her witless rival's chest. Saving his comrade from further beatings, Uno returns to exact a measure of revenge on his tormenter, by trapping her into a rear waistlock. Unfortunately for him the hold stays applied for no more then three pitiful seconds before the blond bombshell shoots an elbow into his noggin. The fierce strike shatters his grip, and tortures him with a pounding headache.

Pointing a menacing finger at Uno, Krissy flashbacks to her days as a dancer for Guns N Roses and yells “Welcome to the jungle, baby! You're gonna [color="#FF0000"][b]diieeeeeeeee[/b][/color]!” The taunt elicits a rolling pop from the fans, who probably grew up on an unhealthy diet of GNR and other testosterone fueled metal.

Uno, however, is positively spooked by the threat, and reacts to it as if he just got crushed by an Undertaker chokeslam, diving to the canvas and convulsing in white hot “pain”, and nonsensically frothing at the mouth. The audience and Krista share a hearty laugh for Uno's ridiculous oversell of a non move. But after forty seconds of the luchadore's embarrassment the laughter lowers into unenthusiastic chuckles, then dies as stares of awkward  pity and wounded sadness. When the pathetic Mexican finally realizes that he hasn't just been steamrolled by the second coming of Andre the giant, he rises to his feet, eager to regain what little honor he once had. Feeling somewhat bad over Uno's terrible performance thus far, Krista offers him the opportunity to take a free shot at her. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he crunches his gloved hand into a tight ball, then springs forward to knock her nose several inches to the right with a fearsome punch. Unfortunately his enormous platform boots conspire against him, and trip the luchadore face first to the mats! While the audience guffaws over Uno's latest gaffe, a sighing Krista simply helps him to his feet. Her rare show of kindness doesn't go unpunished, as Uno directs a trio of elbows into her tight tummy. He pulls her into a front facelock, and lifts her up as if he's about to deploy an Implant DDT. However he twists both their bodies around, then drops to the mat, so that the duo lands on their backs with her neck smacking off the ring floor. Searing pain pools around her neck, tugging apart the very structure that holds it together. Uno is tickled with delight to have been able to execute an actual offensive move, and seeks to experience more of the sweet joy that is success. He grabs onto Krista's flowing blond hair, and brings her to her feet where he attaches another front facelock. The Latino raises her into the air, then falls backwards, torpedoing her neck straight into the ring with the deadly brain buster DDT! Overjoyed at proving that he's not a miserable excuse for a human being, The Wild Chicano stands up and openly implores the crowd to worship at his feet. He starts to clap his hands together, stomping his heels against the mat, asking the fans to rally behind his achievements. Not a single person obliges the request. The audience's hands rest underneath their fat butts, leading a dejected Uno to perform pathetic slow clap down, and hang his head in shame.

COLE
Two measly moves and this guy thinks he's Alfdogg or Zack Malibu!

Showing admirable resilience, Krista rises on her own accord. Her enemy emphatically tries to show her that it would've been wiser to stay on the mat and get pinned, by throwing a sidekick towards her midsection. But she catches firm hold of his shoe, indefinitely delaying the strike. She shakes her head like an admonishing mother, then dizzies her rival by spinning him in a 360 rotation. When the nauseated luchadore comes back to face her, she gives him a taste of his own medicine by striking him in the gut. The vile strikes doubles him over, and leaves him prey to any number of painful holds. Krista choses the most breathtaking of her gruesome options, by backfliping over Uno, catching him into a wasitlock, then upending him with a German Suplex in one glorious motion! A grotesque anguish infects Uno's battered neck, as the crowd bestows Krista's showy attack with an enormous cheer.

COACH
Dayum, bitch! What a german suplex! 

COLE
I hope I can move like that when I'm that old.

COACH
You are that old, and you can't move that well.

A returning Dos shrieks and shouts as he leaps onto his partner's assailant with a clubbing forearm. Two more similar strikes follow, blessing Los Conquistadors with a very delicate control of this contest. The Mexican Maniac clamps down on Krista with a front wasitlock, but watches in horror as she easily destroys the hold with a single headbutt to his nose. Blood splinters from his nostrils, as he clambers about the ring, unable to cope with the rapidly rising agony in his face. Miss California only adds to his problems by Irish whipping him towards the ropes. As he crosses the squared circle, Alix springboards off the ropes, pouncing her way across the ring. When she nears her opponent, she extends her feet forward and pierces them through his chest with a crowd popping dropkick! The girls have little time to celebrate their teamwork, however, as Uno has recovered, and has his mind set on retribution. Unfortunately for him his weak body and substandard wrestling skill are unable to act upon his thoughts of blood lust, and the beautiful ladies pounce upon him before he can even stage a proper attack. They latch onto him with twin rear facelocks, then obliterate the back of his skull with a savage double inverted DDT!

COLE
Chicks Over Dicks are taking over now!

Perhaps Cole may have spoken to soon, as Dos is able to temporally dispose of Alix with a running forearm to the back. Krista, on the other hand, proves much more difficult in defeating, but the luchadore gives it his best efforts, trying to upend her with an STO. But the fitness queen turns the tables on her foe, by peeling backwards and gruesomely introducing his face to the canvas with a flatliner(reverse STO)

COLE
Folks if you're waiting for order to be restored, don't hold your breath, because Clem Buzzlefoxer's matches have a notorious history of breaking down into chaotic tornado tag situations, and never reverting back.

“C-O-D! C-O-D!”

Much to the target of the fans' love's chagrin, Los Conquistadors refuse to back down in the face of inevitable defeat. Uno accosts Krista and tries to fling her to the ropes with an Irish whip. But Krissy shifts the momentum of the hold and reverses it. Rather then let Uno takes his own run of the ropes, Krista holds onto his arm and pulls him in close to strike him with a knee to the midsection. The shot doubles the baddest man in Latin America over, and saps him of what little breath he has left. Figuring that he's little more then a dead man walking, Miss California takes to the skies to finish him off with a fameasser. But, Uno calls upon his last burst of strength to catch her in a samoan drop setup! Given the unusual nature of the hold's beginnings, his grip is nowhere near secure, thus Krista is easily able to slip out of it. She floats to his side, where her arms move quickly to lock him into an inverted facelock. On her descent she amazes everyone privileged enough to watch this glorified squash match with an inverted DDT!

“KRISTA! KRISTA! KRISTA!” shout the fans, leading Krista to bow like a classical ballerina to their show of appreciation.

Elsewhere in the ring, Dos is shooting himself towards a mat based Alix with a lionsault. But the now fully healed Ally sees the move coming a mile away and rolls forward to avoid it. Fortunately for Los Conquistadors, Dos saw her avoidance well in advance and succeeds in landing on his platformed boots. Gathering her strength, the perky cutie stands up to end the Conquistador nuisance once and for all. However, Dos shows that he won't go down so easily, by sending a closed fist to her face. However she stymies the thirty one year old's attempt by slicing a swift kick into his pudgy midsection. With the fans cheering her on, Alix sets her challenger up for a pile driver! Instead of using the basic and unimpressive move, she sunset flips forward and crushes her poor antagonist's cranium with the phenomenal [b]Burning Sensation When You Urinate[/b] (sunset flip pile driver)! Dos' head spikes into the mat, his body going limp before it even falls to the ground. After a prolonged stand still The Santa Fe native flops onto his back, unable to draw a single gasp from his lifeless caracass. With Dos permanently incapacitated by the lethal finisher, Ally treats the audience to their favorite of her signature moves and wiggles her tail like her name was Flipper. Canadian lads across the great white north unleash a maple syrupy jizzum upon their 1986 Jarri Kurri hockey cards, and Tragically hip albums, at the wonderful sight of Alix bouncing her luscious rump like she's got a V12 in her ass. Once she's done shaking her moneymaker, she flips backwards and lands on her brutalized foe with a standing moonsault. Buzzlefoxer, who now needs a new pair of pants and a box of tissues, drops to his knees to count the pin...

CROWD
ONE

CROWD
TWO

CROWD
[b]THREE[/b]

After the word three leaves their lips, the fans erupt with jubilant cheers for the outcome. Sugarcult's hot joint leaks out of the speakers, competing with the rising noise level from the stands and the shouting ring announcer.

BUFFER
Your winners and still OAOAST World tag team champions....CHICKS OVER DICKS! 

COLE
Krista said she was going to humiliate Los Conquistadors, and Uno seemed to get to worst of it, being beaten in arm wrestling, enduring a salsa dance knee drop, getting “slammed” by a pop song lyric, and having to stand around like a tool while Krista checked her lipstick before she clotheslined him into next week. Not a whole lot went well for him tonight.

COACH
I think Dos, The Mexican Maniac, is the one who's gotta get some pity. He's the one who got a sunset flip piledriver, he's the one who's hurting, and he got pinned by a bootysault! But, Krista promised humiliation, and she and Alix delivered, wrecking the debut of the new “Los Conquistadors”. By far the easiest title defense yet for Chicks Over Dicks, but you got to wonder, who's gonna take the next shot. It could come from anywhere.

The girls react to this rather easy victory of the lowly Conquistadors like they just went through a sixty minute death match. Krista leans against the ropes for “support”, pointing to the sky and thanking god that he allowed her to live through this “brutal”, “career shortening”, ordeal. Alix sprawls out across the mat, huffing and puffing as if there isn't a single breath left in her body. Buzzlefoxer, who has time and time again been exposed as a complete moron, fails to get the joke and tries to apply CPR on Krista. I'm sure you can imagine how well an eighty six year old bony senior citizen sexually assaulting a buff fitness expert went off. We'll bring you updates on the location of Clem's funereal in the days to come.

COLE
Folks, quick reminder, the Chicks Over Dicks charity auction ends next Wednesday, and the winner will be announced live on HeldDOWN the following Thursday. It's not too late to put down your bid, and contribute to a great cause. Coach, how much did you bid?

COACH
Not a dime. I'm a pimp, I don't tip ho's, ho's tip me.

Edited February 9, 2007 by Patty O'Green