DREAM WRESTLING: SLAUGHTER XXXV - 02/03/2010
Posted by Webmaster
3 Feb 2010
The Slaughter House, Orlando, FL (seats 8,796)
As we fade from black, the DREAM logo comes across. It begins to spin, then disintegrates before we come up with an image that says Last Sunday
and displays a cell around the ring. Inside of it, six of the best from the World Wrestling Alliance.
Next we have still photos from Talon and Mike Polowy, including Polowy turning Talon over for the MPlowsion and the referee calling for the bell. Last we get a slide show of the main event, up to Doozer and Cancer Jiles holding their hands high in victory.
The view switches ringside with our commentator.
"Last Sunday Scrambled Dreams proved to be an amazing night folks. From Joe Drago walking out with World Wrestling Alliance bragging rights, to Mike Polowy and Mark Zylbert announcing a partnership we thought we saw it all. That is until the main event where Cancer Jiles defeated his partner, Doozer, then immediately vacated the DWF DREAM Championship. Anything can happen on DREAM pay per view and this Sunday, that was proven.
Now, for tonight we will be bringing the action live to you for only one hour as HOTv will be presenting a very special High Octane Wrestling: 2oo9 year end review program. Be sure to stay tuned for that after Slaughter. As always, I'm Jason Whiteside and this is DREAM Wrestling Federation's Wednesday Night Slaughter on HOTv!"
The screen fills with the color of a brightly lit hallway, some janitorial staff in yellow shirts are hanging around near an entrance from outside. Walking past the camera is Chris Jamez, wearing a red t-shirt, with the picture of a white owl on the front of it, black jeans, and engineer boots. Chris is rolling a travel suitcase behind him. The cameraman keeps Chris in the shot as he walks past, moving along with him to match his stride.
A few twists and turns through the well lit hallway of what appears to be the backstage of the arena, leads Chris Jamez to the merchandise tables. The official DWF merchandise stand is set up with the various shirts, DVD's, stickers and flyers carefully placed for all to see. The DWF table is set up quite respectably, with a full length table apron, at its multiple tables, and a friendly looking staff working behind the tables to organize everything.
Then out of the corner of his eye, Chris sees something that doesn’t sit well with him, which causes a sneer to form on his lips. The camera shifts its focus from CJ's face to the object of his disdain… a small, pitifully decorated table, set up specifically for The Masked Dollar.
Chris slowly walks to the table with furrowed eyebrows, looking at all the ‘TMD Brand’ merchandise available. He notices, ‘TMD Brand’ shirts, hoodies, panties, condoms, toothbrushes, masks, toilet paper, and even the brand new ‘TMD Brand’ Swimming Trunks with extra absorbent pads sewn into the crotch.... anything and everything that The Masked Dollar could possibly put his face… err, ‘mask’ on. Suddenly, The Masked Dollar appears from off camera, already in ring gear. Locking eyes, the two men size each other up.
CJ: You have got to be kidding me right? I mean… ‘TMD Brand’ toilet paper? What on earth gave you that bright idea?
TMD: People gotta wipe their asses with something? Why not do it with my face? Wait… that came out wrong. Besides, who the hell are you to judge my marketing genius?
CJ: Don't get me wrong, a man has to make a living, but this is a travesty, don't you have any self-respect?
TMD: Self-respect? This coming from the guy with a friggin’ owl on his T-shirt? Lemme guess, your T-shirt with the classic ‘three wolves’ picture on it was in the wash? Lame. Trust me… I’m about the only person I do have respect for around here. Can you think of anyone else you’d rather have a picture of on your clothes?
CJ: First off, I’m not going to dignify that with a response. And secondly… shouldn’t you be more concerned with making a name for yourself in the ring, instead of making a fool of yourself with your merchandising ability? Hell, you’re probably the type that would stoop so low as to have your own line of inferior feminine products…
Right on cue, TMD produces a packet of birth control pills with the ‘TMD Brand’ logo splashed on the front.
TMD: I can see in your eyes that you’re not quite convinced that my products are the real deal. But your moodiness and argumentative nature tell me that you may be having some lady problems.
The Masked Dollar tosses the birth control pills towards Jamez, which bounce off his chest and into his hands. CJ looks down with disgust, and drops the small package.
TMD: Don’t worry, they’re on the house. All I ask is that you tell your friends about ‘TMD Brand’ products. Also, don’t come bitching and moaning when your man finds out you’re preggers… probably just means you used the pills wrong.
Jamez looks thoroughly unimpressed. His eyes squint as he knows he’s not being taken seriously.
CJ: You do know you’re a joke, right? Sure you beat Castor Strong last week, but get real, he was disinterested. Otherwise, he would have mopped the floor with you. And this week… well, lets just say you’re going to be about as successful in the ring as you are with your merchandise table.
Jamez nods his head towards The Masked Dollar’s table… the only table around that doesn’t have anybody huddled around it.
TMD: Hey man, what the hell is your problem? You got a beef with the retail industry? Take it up with the Better Business Bureau!
CJ: No, my problem with you, boy, is that you are a sell out… to both yourself, and the wrestling business. Turning yourself into your own version of the home shopping network is just making a mockery of what we do.
TMD: Okay… I see what’s going on here. Your problem is… no one knows who the hell you are. I mean… if I don’t know who you are, and trust me, I don’t… then chances are, none of those fans out there do either. On the other hand, you have no idea what I’m capable of doing in the ring, but believe me, I don’t have to prove myself to anyone. Behind this mask is the face of a multi-time champion, and one of the most recognizable faces in the wrestling industry. Why do I wear a mask then, you might ask? Because, there is nothing more appealing than a mystery. But then again… you, yourself are a mystery. Who are you? You’d think you’d be just as intriguing and marketable as I am… but in the end… a masked man is interesting, where as nobody really gives a crap who you are.
While TMD continues to rant and rave, Chris lights up a Marlboro cigarette with a zippo lighter. He takes a long, deep drag before blowing a mouthful of smoke into TMD’s face.
CJ: Listen to me, you hack, wannabe professional wrestler! Your little booth here, is exactly why I hate this current state of the business. People are more interested in the sizzle, than on the steak. And your problem is that you believe your own hype. Like I said… you’re a joke. You don’t take this industry seriously, and no one takes you seriously.
TMD coughs a little as he breaths in the second hand smoke, allowing Jamez to continue speaking.
CJ: You know what I got in my bag? A pair of wrestling boots and tights, a shirt, and some super glue. You know what you got in your "bag"? A limitless void where your nuts should be!
Suddenly, Chris flicks his smoke into TMD’s face. Using the cigarette as a distraction, he charges The Masked Dollar, and the two of them begin brawling in and around the vendor area. TMD gets the upper hand as he slams Chris Jamez through the ‘TMD Brand’ table, only for Jamez to bounce right back and surprise him with a flurry of right hands to the face. TMD fires back with a right of his own. The two continue to trade punches and kicks until a bevy of road agents, security guards and other wrestlers rush in to break up the fight. They pull the two men off of each other, and separate them, with TMD and Jamez both attempting to lunge at one another as the screen fades to black.
"This should be an interesting contest, new comer Castor Strong is set to battle Bishop Steele. Both men could easily find themselves as a contender for the Slaughter TV Title, as soon as we name a champion tonight!"
The lights dim so the arena fills with blackness and the thousands of camera flashbulbs.
The four industrial size strobe lights begin to pulsate to the kick drum of Behemoth's "Ov Fire And The Void".
Out from behind the curtain comes the smug yet confident, Castor Strong. As the spotlight operator follows him down the ramp, pyrotechnics shoot off in the air from the stage. Showing little to no emotion, a handful of fans try to reach out and touch Castor but he pulls his arm in to give them the cold shoulder.
He walks up the ring stairs but in a show of great etiquette, wipe's his boots on the apron before entering the ring. Strong slowly walks towards the far turnbuckle again with no emotion, just a glaring look in to the vast audience in attendance. He places both feet on the turnbuckle and just stares. No motion, no mannerism, nothing. Just a cold hard stare.
Stepping down from his perch, he then wraps his arms around the ring ropes and thrusts his back in to the rubber covered fiber to stretch his back out for the battle that is to come.
"Castor Strong is ready to see what his future holds here in DREAM… However, I am sure Bishop Steele will have something to say about that!"
The lights get dim and the crowd silences. 'Forever' cues over the PA system and the crowd gets hype. Pyros go off on the corners of the stage. The curtains open and out comes Bishop and Alexis Steele on to the stage. Bishop stops on the middle of the stage and looks around at the crowd as he soaks in the essence of the hype and screaming. He then looks at Alexis and knods to her to signal that it is time. He then makes his way down to the ring with Alexis right behind him. He then climbs into the ring and holds the ropes so Alexis can get into the ring. He stands in the middle of the ring and Alexis poses in front of him, as that happens Pyros go off on the corner post of the ring and then the lights come on.
"Bishop Steele ready to open this show against Castor Strong."
Alexis heads to the outside of the ring as both men warm up.
"We're about to kick Slaughter off with this nicely set debut match of Castor Strong. The bell sounds and we get things started."
The two men lock up.
"Steele quickly takes the lead as he whips Castor Strong into the ropes."
As Castor Strong returns he meets the elbow of a spinning Bishop Steele, sending him to the mat.
"Castor Strong sent right down by Steele who can still be considered new to DREAM himself."
Bishop leaps up, bringing a knee down as he drops it onto Castor Strong's chest.
"Big knee drop by Bishop Steele."
Steele gets to his feet, lifting Castor Strong up with him. Castor Strong stops halfway, and picks Bishop up.
"Inverted Atomic Drop by Castor Strong!"
Steele bounces up and back to the mat.
"Castor Strong lifts Steele back to his feet."
Bishop pushes Castor Strong back before throwing a big right at him that connects.
"They both are now exchanging rights and lefts. Steele sends Castor Strong into the ropes. On his return, Bishop Steele connects with a knee to the gut."
Castor Strong flips over Bishop's knee, landing face up on the mat.
"Quick elbow drop by Steele."
As Steele gets to his feet, he pulls Castor Strong up with him. Halfway up, Castor Strong sends a fist into the midsection of Bishop Steele.
"Hard chop now by Castor Strong, followed by a second. Irish whip into the corner."
Castor Strong follows through by running towards Steele with his knee making contact. As Castor Strong moves out of the way, Steele falls foreword to the mat.
"Big, vicious stomps by the home grown Castor Strong."
Castor Strong grabs Bishop Steele and yanks him up.
"Another Irish whip by Castor Strong, Steele on the return. Castor Strong goes for a spear. NO! Bishop Steele leaps over, sunset flip into a pin!"
The crowd pops and the referee goes for the count, but Castor Strong is out at two.
"Never underestimate Bishop Steele. Both men to their feet now. Castor Strong rushes Steele, arm drag by Bishop. Up again. Castor Strong rushes once more, arm drag."
This time Castor Strong gets up in a three point stance. He lunges at Steele, who leap frogs over him. Both men bounce off of the opposite sides of the ring.
"Steele goes for a clothesline, he connects!"
Bishop goes down, covering Castor Strong as the referee drops to count.
"Three count by the referee giving Bishop Steele a pretty quick win over the newcomer!"
Suddenly, Mike Polowy leaps over the security railing and slides into the ring.
"THAT IS THE MIKE EFFECT!"
Mike turns Bishop around and plants a boot into his stomach.
"THE MIKE EFFECT!"
Bishop is rolled away from the action, as Mike grabs up Castor Strong by the hair. He holds him by the hair, steady running his mouth.
’YOU WANNA BE A STAR YOU LITTLE BITCH? I’LL MAKE YOU A HOUSEHOLD NAME IN A MATTER OF A FEW SECONDS!’
Mike kicks him the stomach just as he did with Bishop Steele.
"ANOTHER MIKE EFFECT!"
Mike mounts him, grabbing him by the head and lifting him up towards him.
’WHEN YOU COME TO DREAM, YOU BETTER EXPECT TO BE TREATED LIKE TRASH! I’M GOING TO THROW YOU OUT INTO THE DUMPSTER WITH THE LIKES OF THE REST OF DREAM’S TALENT!’
Mike lifts him up and runs across the ring holding Castor by the hair and launches him over the top rope almost sending him on the bottom of the steel ramp.
"I bet this has to do with Travis running Slaughter this week, and the Orlando Screw Job that Travis decided to fix!"
Mike calls for a microphone. Just at that moment Mark Zylbert's music hits.
"The general manager is making his way down to the ring!"
After a few moments, Mark Zylbert is standing in the ring with Mike Polowy. Steele and Strong have rolled out to the floor. The fans are chanting 'You screwed Talon'
. He raises his microphone to his mouth.
"Shut up, every last one you."
Polowy rushes the ropes, leaning over them and yelling profanities to the crowd.
"I didn't screw Talon, he did. When he left that sinking ship of a promotion for DREAM."
The fans boo him even louder.
"Do you think I'd spotlight a refugee? Seriously? This is DREAM! The number one promotion in the world!"
Mike holds his finger in the sky to show #1.
"I'm not out here to discuss Talon tapping out to Polowy on Sunday."
The crowd heat gets louder.
"Or how Mike Polowy is one of the, if not the, highest paid wrestlers in the World Wrestling Alliance."
They boo more as Mike Polowy makes the sign of having money to the fans.
"No, I am here to lay out next week's card for you. Since Lee Best thinks he can hold DREAM down the show after our pay per view, buy cutting us down to one hour tonight, we will show him. Next week on Slaughter we will have Travis' excuse for a match as my man Mike will once again make Talon tap."
The fans begin booing even louder then before.
"I will be making Cancer Jiles defend his championship against the person of my choosing."
They begin to cheer.
"Shut up! You all are as pathetic as the man who chooses a gimmick title over the DREAM Championship!"
The boo more.
"Speaking of the DREAM Championship, there will be a Mini DREAM Rumble right here, next week to determine the NEW DWF DREAM Champion!"
The heat turns into a gigantic pop. Mike Polowy leans over and whispers into Mark's ear. He smiles.
"Mr. Polowy has volunteered to pull double duty. After he destroys Talon, he will
win the DWF DREAM Championship again in the rumble!"
Mark claps for Polowy as the fans boo. His music hits and the heat is high as we go into another commercial.
Scene: Charlie sitting in his dressing room waiting for his big match later tonight.
Charlie: "Here we go, my first real solo effort here. No Dawn McGill. No Kenzie Blair. Just me.
"Muru, I know all about you. I know you worked at Championship Wrestling Organization and won their top title last month before Tony Awesome stripped you of the belt. I know that your experience is going to probably play a major role in our match tonight. I know I'm in for a battle...and that's okay.
"You see, I have nothing to lose here tonight. No one thought I'd get this far. Hell, I didn't think I'd be here right now. But I am. And I plan to make as much of this opportunity as I can. I know that Dream's loaded from top to bottom and that makes tonight that much sweeter to me. I defeated Nathan Paradine- a former Hostility World Champion. I defeated Bishop Steele- a veteran of many different federations. And now it's you, Muru, and your years of experience.
"So, here it is. Your experience versus my youth and Dawn's guidance. I know this much. She'll give me a good game plan to counter your experience. But in the end, it all comes down to me. If I can put her plan into action, at the least I stand a shot at pulling this off. If not, I'll go back to work and keep getting better.
"Muru, I look forward to meeting you in the ring later tonight. Good luck."
"This new comer is what we deem BORN WITH A SILVER A SPOON! However, this man has talent to back up his richy ways!"
The crowd screams along with the lyrics, as Warrant is blasted over the PA system. Green strobe lights begin to flicker and flash throughout the arena as 'The Walking Infomercial' himself, The Masked Dollar, appears from behind the entrance curtain. He stops at the top of the ramp, throws his arms up in the air, and flashes the all-to-familiar 'pay up' hand gesture. As the music continues, TMD marches down to the ring and slides in under the bottom rope. He immediately heads for the corner, where he ascends the turnbuckles and raises his arms in the air again. Having shown off enough, The Masked Dollar then turns and takes a seat on the top turnbuckle, ad he awaits the beginning of the match.
"The Masked Dollar’s opponent is no one trick pony! Jimmy Riley has been making an impact since the day he arrived into DREAM!"
Like a bad headache, the immediate buzz created by the hip hop superstar collaboration between Kanye, Jay, Wayne, and T.I. cuts immediately into whatever you were doing or thinking;
"No one on the corner has swagga like us
Swagga like us
Swagga swagga like us
No one on the corner has swagga like us
Swagga like us
Swagga swagga like us"
As the beat kicks in, out comes Jimmy Riley, clad in plain blue trunks, blue kneepads, and black boots. He's wearing a gray, unzipped hooded sweatshirt, with the hood pulled up over his head. Without paying any attention to the crowd around him, Riley marches toward the ring.
He slides into the ring, and stands right up, throwing the hood back and his hands into the air before simply walking to his corner and standing quietly, awaiting the match to come.
"There’s nothing to be mistaken with this reaction. Sure seems as though the fans are happy to see a familiar face making his way down to the ring right now… It’s going to be the car mechanic versus the drug addict, Masked Dollar verse Jimmy Riley, the rookie vs. the veteran… Both wrestlers are now in the ring, let’s enjoy the match!"
Jimmy Riley waits in the opposite corner of Masked Dollar, looking at his opponent and grinning. Masked Dollar, with little patience, charges.
"Masked Dollar’s looking to start off quickly here as he… OH MAN, what an elbow counter by Jimmy Riley! Experience proving to be the wiser as Jimmy Riley suckers Masked Dollar into running at him and shoots a sharp elbow straight to Masked Dollar’s jaw."
Masked Dollar stumbles around the ring, holding his face where Jimmy Riley just connected with a strong elbow. Jimmy Riley follows and grabs Masked Dollar by the shoulder, turning him around and whips him into the corner turnbuckle.
"Jimmy Riley whips Masked Dollar into the corner and runs after him… strong body check by Jimmy Riley! Masked Dollar staggers forward and falls to his knees. Jimmy Riley with a DEVASTATING KICK TO THE GUT!! That had to be painful, folks!"
Holding his midsection and grimacing in pain, Masked Dollar falls over on his right side. Jimmy Riley takes a step closer to him and delivers a couple hard stomps. Masked Dollar, writhing in pain, rolls onto his back.
"Jimmy Riley, proving to be relentless against the new guy, pounces down and starts mangling Masked Dollar on the mat. Talk about a one-sided bout so far, everyone. Luckily for Masked Dollar, it looks like he’ll be able to reach for a rope."
The ref repositions himself better to see Masked Dollar as he blindly grasps at a rope… at anything. Right as it seems like Masked Dollar could finally make a grab; Jimmy Riley releases a hand from his opponent’s throat and knocks the arm away. Jimmy Riley releases the mangle immediately, knowing Masked Dollar can reach the rope, and grabs his opponent’s right leg to start dragging him to the center of the ring. Masked Dollar, with just enough strength, lifts up his free leg and boots Jimmy Riley, who stumbles back a few steps.
"Masked Dollar with an impressive defensive push back right there, I’m surprised he can even lift a leg right now…"
Jimmy Riley bounces right back and clotheslines Masked Dollar as soon as the wrestler gets to his feet. This time, Jimmy Riley picks Masked Dollar back up and whips him into the ropes. Masked Dollar bounces for the first time and comes running back toward Jimmy Riley, who bends over forward getting ready for him.
"SWINGING NECKBREAKER COUNTER BY MASKED DOLLAR!"
Masked Dollar pops back up quickly after the move and lifts up Jimmy Riley, still on the matt. Masked Dollar quickly boots Jimmy Riley in the gut and hooks him in preparation for a vertical suplex, which is successful. Masked Dollar, back up quickly once again, and goes to pick up Jimmy Riley from the mat once more.
"OH, cheap shot by Jimmy Riley!"
The ref charges up into Jimmy Riley’s face and gives him the business for delivering the cheap shot as Masked Dollar tip-toes around the ring holding his private area. Jimmy Riley, pushes the ref aside and marches up to Masked Dollar.. BIG HAYMAKER FROM JIMMY RILEY.. ANOTHER, Masked Dollar hits the matt. He’s back up within the blink of an eye… ANOTHER HAYMAKER!
"Jimmy Riley is not taking it easy on the new guy, tonight. Masked Dollar, standing stunned, gets whipped to the ropes by Jimmy Riley… MASKED DOLLAR COUNTERS! What an impressive TORNADO DDT by Masked Dollar!"
Jimmy Riley is down. Masked Dollar lifts him up by the mask covering his head and sets him up… Pumphandle Suplex!
"Oh wow! I didn’t think he’d be able to pull that off kind of move just yet! Masked Dollar with one of his signature moves against Jimmy Riley… That looked painful, people!"
Masked Dollar drops down for the pin.
1……. 2…….. kickout!
"I can’t believe Jimmy Riley kicked out of that one. The match sure turned around fast, it seemed like just minutes ago Masked Dollar couldn’t get a- OH, another low blow by Jimmy Riley!"
The ref, now steaming in Jimmy Riley’s face, gets pushed to the side. Masked Dollar, bent over writhing in pain, gets his head grabbed and locked under Jimmy Riley’s left arm…
"WHAT A DDT BY JIMMY RILEY! Looked like he just implanted Masked Dollar’s head into the matt with that one."
Jimmy Riley goes for the pin,
"Looks like Jimmy Riley was hoping for that one… Masked Dollar just had all the momentum going right there, he’s not going to give up that easy!"
A frustrated Jimmy Riley picks up Masked Dollar and whips him into the corner, NO, Masked Dollar reverses… Jimmy Riley hits the turnbuckle with force. Masked Dollar ensues.
"Masked Dollar’s got Jimmy Riley in the corner here… He’s throwing right hand after right hand, he’s having no mercy for the old man right now; this is vicious! Masked Dollar keeps throwing haymakers and Jimmy Riley is just looking more and more out of it with each connected blow."
Masked Dollar throws another haymaker that connects and Jimmy Riley can barely stand upright by himself anymore. Masked Dollar takes him and lifts him up to the second turnbuckle.
"Oh no, it’s not looking good for the Dream veteran, right now… I’ve heard about this move."
Masked Dollar hooks his left arm around Jimmy Riley’s head. He signals to the crowd lifts up Riley in a pumphandle like move and drops him on his head in a piledriver like move.
"THAT’S IT! THAT’S THE BUCK STOPS HERE BY MASKED DOLLAR! This one’s in the books, folks!"
1……. 2……. 3!!!!!
"Masked Dollar takes it away from Jimmy Riley, tonight. It wasn’t easy, but youth outlasted experience tonight… Or Jimmy Riley was too wasted to know what he was doing… Either way, Masked Dollar with a big victory to here on Slaughter!"
A crowd pop, unmatched by any in modern day wrestling, reverberates within the Slaughter House. The modestly sized arena reaches an amplification level not heard since, well, since the man who just stepped through the backstage entrance... last stepped through the backstage entrance. He's not just The Man, either. He's The Myth. He's The Legend. He's...
"THE DOOZE, Jiles. Yeah maybe you got the three count at Scrambled Dreams, but I'm still The Dooze... you got that?"
Odds are he did not, but that's Cancer for you. CJ is probably egging him on even worse now, claiming that bad reception cut off that last phrase or two. Doozer, walking (with a little less swagger in his step, I might add) along one of the backstage corridors, is dressed in street clothes. Replacing the usual Superman getup is a dark blue Make-a-Wish t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. There's still no Red Sox cap on the top of his head... really makes me wonder what happened to that... but, nevertheless, our DREAM Hall of Famer's face is about as red as that cap ever was. To say the very least, he doesn't seem too pleased.
"Look, I'm sure the scents lofting atop Mount COOL are so overwhelming that others get overtaken, but your shit still stinks buddy. You should remember that." Suddenly Doozer pulls the cell phone away from the side of his face and looks at his with his face twisted. He slowly pulls it back. "Did you seriously just fart into the fu-" The seasoned vet catches sight of a parent and child out of the corner of his eye and stops himself from letting out the f-bomb. "Really, though, did you have to fart into the phone like you're a five year old? You need to grow up." There's a moment of hesitation while CJ responds. "Yes, I know. I need to grow down. Good one, Jiles. Now if you-"
Before Doozer finishes that last sentence, another scene off to the side grabs his attention. He turns his head to behold a group of ten or so men, mostly DREAM Staff, encircling an enormous cake. It looks like a Birthday cake. The Dooze, whose face is now a shade of red that makes blood look purple, has landed on the only logical reason for the sight he just saw.
"CJ, you mo-" Even in spite of the anger, Doozer still knows he's a role model here in DREAM. "-Oonkey." The 5-time DREAM Champ grimaces at his own lackluster save. "Yeah, monkey. Shut up, not the point. Point is, I swear to God if you were behind this Birthday bull.. crap.. well, whatever, I'm sick of it. I'm not even _THAT_ old. Plus, it's not even my Birthday yet! I don't turn Thirty-Seven - No, not Forty, Thirty. Thanks for checking, but I don't even turn for another three weeks or so. This is the last straw, man. I think I want ou-"
Cut off again. This time the culprit is Travis Williams, who just approached Doozer with a smile, took the wrestler's cell phone, and hung up the call.
"Scotty boy, pal, glad you could make it. You are, in fact, the guest of honor we've all been awaiting."
Before Travis can elaborate, Doozer pipes right up.
"Look, Willy, it's not my God damn Bir-"
Seems like The Dooze can't get a word in edge-wise. Then, from hearing Williams voice the name of his favorite employee back between 1999 and 2001, a figure emerges from the group circled around the cake. Doozer's eyes instantly bug out of his skull as his jaw drops to the floor. Without hesitation, he extends his right arm for a hand shake.
Doozer clears his throat, "Darren Crouse.... holy hell... it's been-"
"A decade, more or less."
Doozer corrects the statement. "Less, but close."
The former employer and his best employee exchange a light chuckle over a lengthy handshake. They both know, probably better than any, that The Dooze always has (and had) to get the last word in. Then, it finally clicked. This whole Birthday shindig was not actually a Cancer Jiles prank to point out Doozer's... experience (hey, I don't want to get Abused anytime soon).
"Sooo... you're B-day is February Third, isn't it boss? I completely for-"
Darren Crouse, owner of DREAM Wrestling from when Doozer had his Hall of Fame career run, interjects.
"Don't worry about it. It's been ages, Lavigne."
Doozer forces a laugh. "Yeah, I bet you don't remember mi-"
"Oh... nice." Looks like a combination of age and damage to the head have worn down poor, old Doozy's memory pretty bad. Oh, I bet the weed and booze don't help much, either. "Don't bother asking why, but can you remind me to call Cancer after we catch up?"
Crouse asks, "Cancer? Who?"
"He's, um... well... To make it easy for you to understand, he's basically DREAM's new age version of yours truly."
Nodding his head, Darren shows his understanding. "So his name's Cancer, huh?" Doozer nods back in confirmation. Crouse lets out a deep sigh, "Oh..."
Doozer's head nods continue, "You don't even know the half of it, man."
"I don't care to, either. What I'd rather talk about is how _MY_ favorite Hall of Famer's doing these days, anyway?" Darren puts an arm over Doozer's shoulder and the two start walking toward the group around the Birthday cake. "Couldn't stay away from the game, couldn't ya?" Doozer shakes his head. "The best never can. Look at Brett Fa-"
For the first time since his arrival, it's Doozer doing the interrupting. "Finish that sentence and, even though I just saw you for the first time in years, I will Dooze and Abuse you."
Darren releases an echoing bellow. I'm sure he hasn't heard that catch phrase for a good 9 years. "That's my man. So how're other things going for ya?"
Doozer shrugs as the two old friends and associates join back with the slew of DWF personnel. Their voices mix with the others' and eventually drown out amongst the noise. Then, before you know it, their all singing the Happy Birthday.
"~HAAAAPPY BIIIRRRTHDAAAYYYY.. TOOOO.. YOU!!!~"
Happy Birthday, Darren Crouse!!!
Travis is in his office with both Charlie Blackwell and Muru sitting before him. Both men are geared up and ready to main event their very first Slaughter.
"You two have big shoes to fill! Guys like Level-One, Mike Polowy, Doozer, Cancer Jiles, and even myself, have been on that main stage of Slaughter. Tonight, it's you two! Do not disappoint myself and most of all, THAT CROWD!"
Muru springs to his feet and slaps himself on the chest.
"You can count one me sir!"
"Thanks for the excitement, I can tell you are still fairly new here in DREAM!"
Charlie nods his head, but never speaking a word. The door suddenly opens, as new comer Chris Jamez comes walking into the office.
"Travis, your true star has arrived!"
Muru and Charlie look at one another with stun looks. You can even hear them whispering.
"Who the hell is that?"
"No clue Charlie!"
Travis stands to his feet and examines the guy before them.
"WHO IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU KID?"
He extends his hand.
"The name is Chris Jamez, and I am the guy you should be featuring in your main event tonight. Not these two lame excuses of wrestlers!"
He turns to look at them and points at Charlie.
"What are you, 15? Grow some chest hair, and get rid of the acne!"
Muru snickers a bit, but Chris is not done,
"What are you laughing at MOOOO MAN?"
Muru stops laughing and jumps up into the guy's face.
"Who is the hell do you think you are? Some new guy trying to get his name known by a few jokes and a bad haircut? You want a main event spot? EARN IT KID!"
They start to shove one another, all three men. Charlie and Muru both want Chris Jamez right now. Travis slams his hands on his desk, making everyone to pause and turn to him.
"You two want him? I tell you what! Charlie and Muru, whom ever wins that title tonight... Enjoy it for a week, because next week, YOU DEFEND IT! Chris, you want to make a name, BEAT THE CHAMPION!"
Charlie shakes his head.
"He has not earned it!"
Travis nods agreeing.
"Nope, but the terms of the belt is, every match the champion is in, IS A TITLE DEFENSE! So, earned or not, it's time for him to put up or shut the fuck up!"
We fade into a commercial break.
Up on the tron a picture of the earth is seen. The earth then explodes as pyro and explosions fill the arena. The entrance ramp is filled with smoke as "Ladies and Gentlemen" by Saliva begins to play. Muru then walks out through the fog and makes his way down the ramp. Along the way to the ring he slaps the hands of a few fans and the he slides into the ring. He then raises his hands to the air as the crowd cheers.
"Slaughter Television Championship action coming your way! After the last few weeks of the title tournament, Muru and Charlie Blackwell have found themselves right here, right now. Only one man will walk out champion!"
Opening notes to Charlie Robison's 'My Hometown' play. Charlie walks down to the ring with his valet/girlfriend Kenzie Blair.
Well, I had a buddy back in eighty-one
And we made ourselves a pact
We were heading for the new pipeline
And we were never coming back
We worked eighty hours working time and a half
But LaGrange was too damn hot
We drove back home at the end that week
And we spent it all on shots...
Charlie holds the ring ropes open for Kenzie to slide through.
So I'll see you Houston
If I ever get out that way
I'll see you in Dallas
But I won't have long to stay
If you're ever out west son
And you're feeling like slowin' down
I'll see you around
Around my hometown...
"It's anyone's match as these two have proven they can overcome the odds and make it to this final round!"
Both men prep for the match as Kenzie exits the ring.
"The bell sounds to start the match. Quick lock up. Blackwell takes control, placing Muru in a wrist lock. Muru now reverses the lock into his own. Quick kick, followed by an Irish whip. Blackwell off of the ropes, arm drag by Muru."
Both men get to their feet. Blackwell rushes Muru.
"Another quick arm drag, this time into an arm bar. Muru applies pressure."
Charlie Blackwell kicks his legs, and is able to break free.
"Both men to their feet. They run at each other. Muru down, Blackwell leaps over him."
Muru jumps to his feet and turns as Charlie hits the ropes.
"Blackwell on the return, Muru down, leap frog over Muru."
Charlie stops, and they both turn. Charlie runs at Muru again.
"Blackwell ducks a quick clothesline attempt, they turn, boot to the gut of Charlie Blackwell by Muru."
Muru runs to the ropes, comes off of it and jumps.
"Scissor kick by Muru. Fast paced action very early on!"
Blackwell eats mat as Muru gets back to his feet. Charlie rolls over to his back as Muru runs at the ropes. he leaps to the second.
"Moonsault that hits his mark!"
The fans pop loud for Muru who gets to his feet in a hurry.
"Muru to the corner, climbing the turnbuckles."
Once he is up at the very top he puts his hand over his eyes and peers across the sea of fans as the cameras flash. He turns around and sits on the top turnbuckle.
"Charlie Blackwell now getting to his feet."
Once Blackwell is up, Muru stands straight up and leaps, catching his head , then twisting down.
"Tornado DDT from the top rope!"
The roar from the crowd is insane.
"Muru now lifts Blackwell to his feet, placing him in a side headlock. These two are pulling out all the stops tonight as they both can taste that gold!"
Muru applies pressure to Blackwell, however, Charlie is somehow able to slide out of the lock behind Muru.
"Blackwell with a vertical jump, standing dropkick to the back of Muru. How he was able to do that after that big DDT, amazes me. This newcomer to the business is learning quick here in DREAM."
Muru is sent forward into the ropes, as he hits them and is shot backwards, Blackwell runs, leaping to the second and jumping off with an elbow. However, Muru is able to hook his arm in and in one motion carry him over to the mat and into an arm bar.
"Quick thinking by Muru may have gotten this back on track. He applies pressure to Blackwell's arm."
Blackwell throws his legs forward, and uses the momentum to stand up, twisting out of the arm lock that Muru had applied, while at the same time twisting Muru over and to the mat. The fans cheer at the back and forward action.
"Blackwell to the ropes, he grabs the top, pulls himself up and forcefully leaps to the second, bouncing off with momentum. Blackwell crashes down across Muru and the referee goes to count. Kick out at one."
The crowd claps as both men begin to get to their feet.
"Muru grabs the arm of Blackwell, Irish whip into the ropes. Blackwell on the return, he leaps with a double leg sitting drop kick, Muru ducks and lifts. Quick thinking by Muru as he throws Blackwell to the mat."
More clapping. Muru pulls Blackwell to his feet.
"Chop by Muru, followed by another, and another. Blackwell now leans back and comes forward with his own."
Muru grabs his chest.
"Swift kick to the side of Muru's legs by Blackwell. Muru to one knee. Blackwell runs past him, off the ropes, soccer style kick to the back of Muru's head."
Muru falls forward to the mat, holding his head. Blackwell leans over him, and bends down. Muru throws a leg up, kicking Blackwell in the face.
"Muru quickly able to get to his feet. Don't count him out yet folks. He turns Blackwell around, whip, no, reversed. Muru sent towards the corner."
Blackwell runs behind him. As Muru gets to the corner post he grabs the top rope and leaps up. Blackwell crashes through the post as Muru lands behind him.
"Muru takes advantage of the situation, grabs Blackwell's head, inverted DDT!"
He steps over Blackwell and climbs the corner post to the top rope. Cameras flash as he holds his arms out before jumping.
"Muru Splash! He hits his mark."
Muru lays back across Blackwell's chest and the referee drops. As he counts Muru raises fingers in the air to go along with him.
"DENIED AT TWO! Muru can not believe it!"
The crowd rumbles.
"Both men now getting to their feet. Muru rushes Blackwell. Blackwell sidesteps, lifting Muru and sending him now crashing into the corner post."
Muru bounces off of the turnbuckle, Blackwell runs and grabs the top ropes, throwing his legs up behind him, wrapping them around Muru's neck. He legs go, swinging around.
Both men take a moment to catch their breath before rolling over and pushing themselves up.
"Neither man will give up as they both head to their feet."
They slap hands out of respect, then lock up.
"Getting back on track with a lock up. Muru with a knee to the gut of Blackwell."
He grabs the back of Charlie's head and leaps up with his knees, as his knees both go up he pulls Blackwell down, smashing his jaw into his knees.
"WHAT A MOVE! I don't even know what to call it!"
Muru turns Blackwell over and covers him, hooking the leg.
"The referee drops to count. One.. two.. three!"
The bell sounds.
"We have a new Slaughter Television Champion! Muru has done it!"
Muru gets to his feet and moments later has the title in his hands. He runs to the corner post and up, holding it for the screaming fans.
"Congratulations Muru! What a way to enter DREAM. Right into a tournament and leaving it the champion!"
Daps and Pounds hits the PA system... The fans, all ready on their feet as Muru, the new TV Champion celebrates his big victory inside the center of the ring. Charlie Blackwell, making his way to the back up the entrance ramp, after the hard fought match up has decided to retreat back to the ring, joining Muru. The two main event contestants must have a lot of respect for each other after battling their way through such a daunting tournament. Not to mention, when that songs playing... it means only on thing.
And strength is always in numbers.
From behind the curtain, the Egg Bandits emerge... well, some of them. The fans pop, loudly, when they see Mr. Cool walking with a purpose down to the ring. CCJ has his COOL CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE strapped proudly around his waist. The Dude, carrying a carton of eggs, and Whammy, with a back up carton in toe follows behind. Obviously a few eggs short of a carton, as Adrien Cochrane is presumably still recovering from the daunting effects of Caged Hell, and wasn't able to make the trip. BBD most likely is off preparing for a crazy handi-capped match for hsi transgression against Defiance owner, Eric 'Pippity-Poppity' Dane.
Doozer... ??? M-I-A
"I don't know whats going on here folks, but it appears as if the Cool Champion has something to say." Whiteside reports, as a member of the ring crew tosses Cancer a mic. "Maybe Cancer is out here to congratulate the first, and new TV Champion."
Cancer walks around the ring, looking at both competitors... I dunno what he thinks he is going to be able to do, being out numbered and all.... He might be COOL, but not that COOL. On second thought, after last Sunday, pretty sure CCJ proved that anything is possible. The Dude enters the ring, standing along side of Jiles, evening things out some. Whammy stands outside of the ring, on reserve. Noticeably, Whammy also has one half of the High Octane Tag Team Titles draped over his shoulder. Cancer must have forgotten about what happened the last time he brought a tag team title out into the school yard.
"Muru... Charlie... Great job out here tonight... I mean it. Great job... You guys sure did put one hell of show. The fans are going to remember this match along with the likes of, Cancer Jiles versus 2009 Heel of the year, Mike Polowy... or better yet, Cancer Jiles versus Dream Hall of Famer, Doozer... and that's something you two guys should be very proud of."
"Well isn't that awfully nice of the Cool Champion... to be honest, I never thought I would hear it... or anything close to resembling it." Whiteside chimes in. Muru and Blackwell, still not one hundred percent trusting of the COOL Champion nod their heads, wondering what his true motives are...
Pleading with the crowd, Cancer continues on. "How bout it folks, lets give these two studs a round of applause! Come now, let em' hear it!"
The fans let out a thunderous ovation as Muru and Blackwell raise their arms high in the ring. Muru holding the TV title high in the air.
"Wow, how about this show of sportsmanship by Cancer Jiles! It's remarkable, he really has grown leaps and bounds. It's amazing. These Slaughter House fans are really letting the combatants know how much they appreciated the bang up job they just did out there."
"Okay, Okay... Lets settle down people. Come on now, enough of the kudos... respect the COOL... settle down." Cancer waits for the crowd to come to hum before pressing on. "NOW that we got that out of the way... I was wondering just who the hell do you two think you are?" Huh...? "Thinking you could come out here and steal my thunder...."Muru and Blackwell share a look of confusion "Check it guys... this is going to happen two ways. One, apologize to me, for having the audacity to think you are half as COOL as I am."
Jason Whiteside interjects, "These two guys were just out here doing there jobs.... Jiles, come on now, stop being ridiculous." Good thing Cancer is out of earshot.
The COOL Champion continues to lay out their bail out plan. "Two... Both of you get egged for acting COOL, without permission. You have five seconds to make up your mind." Cancer nonchalantly turns to the Dude, and plucks two eggs out of the open carton. He looks back at the two, who should have jumped CJ by now, but for some reason have not. Probably are still uncertain as to what his true motives are.
"Well okay then. Times up. Muru, Dreams new TV Champion... you're up first... What's it gonna be... Are you sorry for your trespasses against COOL?" Cancer says with scary conviction, then passes off the mic to Muru. With his brand spanking new TV Title draped over his shoulder, Muru rips the mic out of Cancer's hand. Stepping in close, going nose to nose, not backing down an inch from the top of the food chain. Muru raises the mic to his mouth and says in a deflated tone... "I'm sorry."
"What!?! Muru... no!" Exclaims Jason Whiteside. "You're so much better than this!"
Muru continues. "I'm sorry... Sorry for what I'm about to do. You're a great competitor, who doesn't deserve this... but it's something I need to do. Something... I have to do." Muru grabs Cancer's arm, and quickly swipes one of the eggs out of his hand. Both men go to fire at one another...
Instead of firing their eggs at each other, they focus their attack on Charlie Blackwell.
"Does this mean Muru is in the Egg Bandits??? He does have a background in dairy." Whiteside again comments. Both eggs connect, striking Blackwell in the face, causing him to fall to one knee. Probably more out of shock, then the pain of an egging. Although if the yolk gets all up in your eyes... it can become quite a nuisance. That seems to be the case here, as Blackwell has now slid out of the ring, furiously wiping at his eyes.
Muru hands the mic back to Cancer, as both men are laughing in the center of the ring. "I told you that would work.... Ladies, Gentleman, your attention please. I'd like you all to help me in welcoming the newest and proudest member of the Egg Bandits. He is the ripper, the gouger, the grazer, the blazer, the butcher of Baghdad, the greatest Television Champion in Dream has ever known!! The Mad Cow himself....... Moooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrruuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!!!"
The fans give somewhat of a mixed reaction to the egging and the introduction of the newest bandit. Some boo, but most are hooting and hollering, and laughing at Blackwell trying to wipe the yolk from his eyes. "Oh my god! Take cover!" Jason Whiteside cries out. The mixed reaction quickly turns into them leaving in a hurry, as CCJ and Muru have loaded up and are now firing complimentary souvenir eggs out into the crowd.
"This is how you give the fans a show." Cancer says, as he cackles and grenade tosses some more freebies into the crowd.
"Looks like the Egg Bandits are back in business.... We'll see ya next week!"