So you're a lucky fuck who has enough money to make sure you have the Best Studios Network on your TV. Good for you. Because tonight you are going to be introduced to a gritty, unorthadox promotion called... Death Row.
Yea, that's right. Death Row Wrestling is on Best Studios and we are proud to present mother fucking LETHAL FUCKING INJECTION!!!
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Welcome to Death Row.
We fade up from darkness, and the collective noise of some 19,000 people fills the arena, echoing around the Alltel Arena. The obligatory panoramic shot of the crowd is shown, revealing very few empty seats for Death Row's television debut.
Signs in the crowd say things like
Did Doozer Get #Embossed?
cVc Gave Me Herpes!
HOW > DRW > TRUE
RIP Maynard Crane
Without further ado, we see the Death Row Commentating team, looking especially pumped.
Wolf: Here we are, ladies in gentlemen, at the packed Alltel Arena, here in North Little Rock. I’m Waylon Wolf, and of course, with me as always is Tommy Ace. Tommy?
Ace: That’s right, Tommy Ace! The Tommy Ace, the man holding all the cards and winning all the chips. I’m an Ace in the Hole baby!
Wolf: What a night we have in store as Death Row Wrestling makes it's television debut here for Lethal Injection seven!
Ace: God damn I bet I look good as hell on TV!
Wolf: I don't even want to waist any time, lets get to the show!
The camera cuts to a two shot of Waylon Wolf and Tommy Ace sitting at a Death Row commentary table. Looking their best in new suits they welcome the viewers with smiles.
Wolf: Death Row strives week in and week out to bring in new talent. . .
Ace: In part due to the high drop out rate. . .
Wolf: . . . And tonight is no different. Yet another debut here tonight: Josh Hydrek, Ace.
Ace: Yes, but unfortunately for Josh, he’s debuting against the monster Tarrasque. Hydrek can get a girl’s phone number in under thirty seconds, but the real question is: can he pin a man in three seconds?
Wolf: This young man has already made waves in The Row, disrespectfully coming in claiming he’s the next World Champion. But there is no World Champ in the Row, Ace.
Ace: Apparently this guy didn’t do his homework, a real rookie mistake Wolf. As they say, first impressions are everything.
Suddenly, Amazing by Kanye West starts up through the arena, the fans immediately rising to simultaneously boo. Signs pop up all over the arena, from hopefuls looking to get a little T.V. time. The camera cuts to one in particular, which echoes the general feelings of the majority of the fans in Alltel Arena: IF HYDREK WINS WE RIOT.
Wolf: The fans feel the same way Ace. Listen to that!
Ace: 19,000 fans trying their best to let Hydrek know he’s anything but amazing.
I’m the reason
Everybody’s fired up this evening
A large chorus of boos cuts through the music.
Holding on to what I believe in
Wolf: Hydrek taking his time tonight.
Ace: He’s scared Wolf! This whole arena is against him!
No matter what
You’ll never take that from me
My reign is as far as your eyes can see
As the chorus starts up with its repetitious use of the word ‘amazing,’ Josh Hydrek emerges from behind the curtain. He struts out and looks out at the fans, yelling inaudible insults at anyone he can as the boos continue, the hatred building in the arena.
Wolf: What perfect music for this young man. Kanye West is a vain fool. And something tells me this kid is much the same way.
Ace: Careful there Wolf, he just may storm the table and interrupt you where you sit. IMMA LET YOU FINISH. . .
Hydrek descends down to the ring, telling himself how good he is, what a gem he is in the wrestling business, how lucky everyone is to see him, and all that rot. He walks around the ring, looking around at the fans that for the most part flip him off and shout obscenities at him. He sees a young woman in the front row and stops, smiling slyly at her.
Ace: I think he’s about to get another phone number Wolf!
He looks at her and takes his jacket off to show his body. He motions toward her to reach out and touch his abs, but as she tries to he backs away and laughs in her face as if to say she’s too ugly for his beautiful specimen. He then climbs into the ring as the boos continue to rain out.
Wolf: Well you’ve got to give it to him, nobody has ever debuted in The Row with this much heat.
Ace: With Bobby Dean, Seth Stratton and Josh Hydrek, we’ve cornered the vain asshole market.
Wolf: That’s for sure Wolf.
Tarrasque’s theme bursts through the arena and the more bloodthirsty of fans begin to cheer. The only surviving monster in The Row is about to make his appearance, and those with Tarrasque signs hold them over their heads.
Wolf: The Beast is about to be unleashed Ace.
Ace: I tell you, a Tarrasque feeding is a lot like that scene in Jurassic Park. You know the one where they’re feeding the raptors by lowering a goat down into a cage. Yup a lot like that.
Wolf: I don’t know about that Ace, but I do know local meat distributors are here to provide Tarrasque with the freshest of raw beef.
Tarrasque then appears from behind the curtain, letting out a massive roar. Bits of beef still cling to his teeth and the corners of his mouth, bits of beef from his most recent meal: ground hamburger.
Wolf: Ozzy Osbourne has nothing on Tarrasque.
Ace: That’s for sure, biting the heads off of bats is child play for this beast.
Allen Anderson then appears behind Tarrasque, hobbling on his cane. The crowd immediately begins to boo at the sight of “The Brain,” who at the moment looks quite agitated. Tarrasque begins his walk down to the ring, Allen Anderson hobbling after him.
Wolf: Well Allen Anderson is a little disappointed of Tarrasque as of late. He’s been losing recently, and it no doubt makes the Warhammer Corporation look bad.
Ace: Are you kidding? Are they not seeing what I’m seeing? Did Tarrasque not tear up a dive bar last night?
Wolf: True, but this a wrestling match, not a barroom brawl.
Ace: Not yet anyway. . .
Tarrasque climbs up into the ring, as Allen Anderson hobbles his way to one side of the ring, ignoring the insults flung at him by the fans. Tarrasque walks to the center of the ring and sizes up Hydrek, who appears unfazed by the massive size of Tarrasque.
Wolf: As always, Tarrasque comes into this one with a weight and size advantage, what has Hydrek got to do to survive this one Ace?
Ace: Keep away from the monster and let him tire himself out. He’s got to use his speed as there’s nobody on this planet who can beat Tarrasque in a test of strength.
Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is for one fall, and has a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, from Hollywood, California, weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds, he is Mr. Amazing, The Guy Your Girlfriend Didn't Tell You About, Joshhhhh Hyyyydrecccckkkk!
A loud chorus of boos cut through the arena, as the camera cuts once again to the IF HYDREK WINS WE RIOT sign. Hydrek ignores the boos and hops around to facilitate blood flow, his arms extending to soak in his own self glory.
Announcer: And his opponent, from Akira, China, weighing in at two hundred and eighty five pounds, The Beast, Tarrrrrassssssqqquuueee!
Tarrasque lets out a massive roar as erratic cheers come from the crowd. Tarrasque raises his arms and then lowers them, flexing all of his muscles, the veins bulging in his neck.
Wolf: Who do you like in this one Ace?
Ace: Tarrasque, who else?
The bell rings as Hyrdek begins to size up Tarrasque. Tarrasque stands in the ring showing mild interest in Hydrek, regarding him much as a beast would a fly. Josh runs off the ropes for momentum and upon returning hits Tarrasque with a shoulder block, but Tarrasque doesn’t move.
Wolf: That’s not gonna work.
Ace: And this kid claims to be amazing.
Frustrated, Josh bounces off the ropes behind Tarrasque and tackles his knee, but still Tarrasque doesn’t budge. Josh then tries to push him to the mat, but still that doesn’t work.
Ace: Yeah, push him to the ground, great idea. . .
The crowd pops as Tarrasque lets out a massive roar. Looking frightened Josh backs away but Tarrasque grabs him by the throat and lifts him up into the air. The crowd buzzes as Tarrasque illustrates his strength by holding Hydrek in the air, rotating a full 360 degrees so all the fans can see the hold. He then slams Hydrek to the mat. The crowd pops at the sound of the massive bump.
Wolf: Huge choke slam by Tarrasque! Hydrek is out! He got folded up like an accordion with that one!
Ace: Jesus Christ Hydrek is barely alive!
Roaring, Tarrasque motions to a group of people in the front row to get out of the way and then picks up Hydrek over his head into a military press position.
Wolf: Hydrek, high over Tarrasque’s head. LOOK OUT FANS!
Seeing his intention the fans quickly scatter, and with a massive roar Tarrasque throws Hydrek out of the ring and over the barricade into the first row, scattering chairs as Hydrek violently lands face down.
Wolf: Oh my God! Oh my God! The strength of Tarrasque just sent Hydrek all the way out of the ring and into the first row!
Ace: Grab you beers fans! Idiot coming through!
The crowd pops at the bump taken by Hydrek. A DRW chant erupts from the crowd: DRW. . . DRW. . . DRW. . . DRW. . . Tarrasque lets out another roar and exits the ring, where Allen Anderson meets him. Allen Anderson says a few inaudible words to Tarrasque, but Tarrasque seems to ignore them, climbing over the barricade and descending upon a fallen Hydrek.
Wolf: The Beast is in with the crowd! Get out of there you fools! He’ll kill you all!
Ace: Again, am I the only one who saw the damage this guy did to that dive bar?! There’s a shark in the ocean, and there are a shit ton of swimmers—and the water has been chummed by Hydrek’s blood! Wolf is right, get out of there you fools!
Tarrasque looks out at the crowd, the mass of potential targets temporarily confusing him. Allen Anderson can be heard barking orders at Tarrasque, and upon hearing them Tarrasque obeys, picking up Josh Hydrek and tossing him back over the barricade. The fans begin to boo Allen Anderson for preventing what could have been some real carnage, as Tarrasque completes Allen Anderson’s order by tossing Hydrek into the ring and climbing in after him.
Wolf: They call him ‘The Brain’ for a reason Ace. He’s the only thing keeping Tarrasque from destroying anything that gets in his path.
Ace: Yeah, the fans may not like it, but this is the smart thing to do. Pin the man while you have the chance, and you can’t do that without having your opponent in the ring. Kudos to you Allen Anderson.
Tarrasque goes for the cover, the ref dropping to the mat to make the count.
Wolf: 1. . . 2. . . NO! Hydrek kicks out of it! Wow, this kid hasn’t shown us much for us to be amazed of, but he has got some guts. You’ve got to give him that.
Ace: Or he’s just too stupid to realize he’s already beat. . .
Hydrek can be seen breathing heavily as Tarrasque gets to his feet. He lifts Hydrek to his feet with one hand, pulling him up by his hair. Tarrasque then tosses Hydrek into the ropes and lifts his foot for the big boot but Hydrek ducks.
Wolf: Hydrek ducks the big boot, bounces off the ropes. Hydrek returns, Tarrasque sizes him up, and slams Hydreck to the mat with a massive clothesline.
Ace: Hydrek, over and out. Jesus Christ Wolf!
Wolf: This whole arena is buzzing after that one!
Allen Anderson can be heard issuing more orders to Tarrasque, but Tarrasque seems to ignore them, for as Tarrasque lifts Hydrek to his feet, Allen Anderson becomes quite angry.
Wolf: Seems ‘The Brain’ was instructing Tarrasque to go for the pin, but Tarrasque isn’t complying!
Ace: The Beast just wants to have more fun. . . look at Hydrek, he looks like a lifeless rag doll out there.
With a roar Tarrasque tosses Hydreck’s lifeless body into the air, catches him and power slams him down into a piledriver. The crowd pops as Hydreck falls to the mat, heaving air but otherwise not moving.
Wolf: My God Ace! He calls that move “Forget Me,” and after that I don’t think Hydreck will remember anything, let alone Tarrasque.
Ace: Yeah I’m afraid after that blow Hydreck has been diminished to nothing but a babbling idiot!
Wolf: Tarrasque has lost it! He’s going on a power display and he doesn’t care what Anderson says!
Allen Anderson can be see screaming outside of the ring, even going so far as to climb up on the apron, but Tarrasque ignores him and again picks up Hydreck, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. Tarrasque lets out another roar as he puts Hydreck in the powerbomb position. He lifts him over his head and then slams him to the mat, grabbing onto his neck with a neckbreaker.
Wolf: He calls that one “Crack the Neck,” Tarrasque has lost it and the fans are loving every second of it.
Ace: This reminds me a lot of when a cat kills a mouse. The mouse is dead but the cat still wants to play, so he just kind of flicks at the poor dead thing. Is Hydreck even breathing?
Wolf: I don’t know Ace, and I don’t think Tarrasque cares!
Tarrasque then picks up Hyrdeck grabbing him by the waist and lifting him up over his head. Turning his head Tarrasque measures up the turnbuckle and falls backward, Hydreck's face smashing into the top turnbuckle.
Wolf: The Skullcrusher! The Skullcrusher! This is too much, Hydreck is already out!
Ace: It matters litter to Tarrasque! Even Allen Anderson is having trouble controlling him tonight!
Tarrasque then drops to his knees and covers Hydreck. The ref hits the mat.
Wolf: We've got a pin! 1. . . 2 . . . 3! Tarrasque wins it! Tarrasque wins it with the Skullcrusher!
Ace: Listen to these fans Wolf!
Wolf: The monster returns with a victory over Josh Hydreck! The question remains, why is Anderson still screaming directions?
Ace: Is he telling Tarrasque to not eat Hydreck?
Anderson steals a microphone away, and Tarrasque helps him into the ring. Anderson walks over and pokes Josh Hydreck in the ribs with the butt of his cane.
Anderson: It is time you were the first, Hydreck. Tarrasque...finish this and show Death Row Wrestling. No, show the entire watching world. What it means to cross me. Give Death Row's first televised event an R rating."
Tarrasque kicks Josh Hydreck over onto his belly and sets him up for the camel clutch.
Wolf: This is the set up for the Paralyzing Factor. Does he really intend on going through with this?
Ace: Holy crap! I hope Josh Hydreck has good health insurance! And maybe even that duck insurance! Aflac!"
Tarrasque holds the top of Josh Hydreck's head and his chin. He twists sharply and holds. This seems to bring some life back into Josh as he taps wildly. The ref rushes in to try to tell Tarrasque that the match is over and to release the move. In the background, the bell is rung to remind Tarrasque to release the hold. Anderson cracks the ref in the back of the head with his cane, and kicks him out of the way.
Wolf: Oh Anderson didn't want to be doing that. The boss isn't going to be pleased.
Ace: Does it even matter? With that creature at his side, Anderson can pretty much do what he wants!
Anderson: Again! Finish this, beast!
Tarrasque releases the pressure on Josh Hydreck's neck. He pauses for dramatic effect and twists again, with more strength this time. There is a loud crack that Anderson's microphone catches and broadcasts to the arena. Josh Hydreck ceases his tapping and goes limp.
Wolf: Did he just? Isn't this what got Anderson here in the first place?
Ace: Josh Hydreck in his debut match...slain by the Monster of Death Row!
Anderson grins coldly as Tarrasque stands up.
Anderson: We're done here.
As Anderson and Tarrasque leave the ring, medics rush past them to work on Josh Hydreck. They check his vitals before slipping on a neck brace and shifting him to a stretcher. A medic gives a thumbs up.
Wolf: Looks like Josh Hydreck is alive, but in what condition?
Ace: He's lucky that Tarrasque didn't stop to eat him before leaving!
Wolf: I think that Tim Ross isn't going to left this one slide. Anderson assaulted a ref and directed Tarrasque to do unspeakable things!
Ace: I wouldn't want to be there for that confrontation. Or rather, I would. Just not in the way of things!
The scene opens up two blocks from the Alltel Arena in a crappy dive bar called The Joint. Stale smoke hangs visibly in the air. Regulars sit stoically at the solid oak bar nursing beers and sharing war stories. From the juke box we hear Ronnie Van Zant crooning the words to Simple Man. It's a full on, southern cliché. With two exceptions...
... Those being "Beautiful" Bobby Dean and Seth Stratton bellied up to the bar, breaking the country reverie and drawing disdainful looks. The two appear to be several drinks in already.
Seth Stratton: I'm glad we decided to meet up like this. Would've been a shame for us to do battle, because the fact is... we're cut from the same cloth. We're brothers in arms. The two of us, we're a beacon of bright, blinding light in a sea of backwoods mediocrity.
Seth finishes the brightly colored drink in front of him. The crusty looking female bartender chortles. Several of the regulars look on in an unappreciative manner.
"Beautiful" Bobby Dean: You've got that right. Guys like us, we need to stick together. The Row is full of animals. And I don't mean that in a good way. I think some of these guys literally live and root in their own fecal matter.
SS: That wouldn't surprise me.
Seth calls out to the bartender.
SS: Hey, Maggie May! A couple more Mai Tai's for me and my buddy here!
She scolds them and gets to work.
SS: She's probably going to spit in them.
BBD: That's fine, I'm used to the taste of saliva befouling my food and drink.
SS: Hey, me too! It's the price you pay for keeping the servants in line, right?
BBD: Couldn't have said it better myself.
SS: High five!
They enthusiastically slap hands.
SS: Couple resourceful guys like us, we can't be stopped. We're gonna hit these shores like the gulf oil spill!
How Seth hasn't been lynched yet, no one knows.
BBD: Resourcefulness. There's an underrated quality. One that I'm proud to champion. I'd go as far to say it's my greatest strength.
SS: You think resourcefulness is your greatest strength in the ring? I pride myself on mine. I'm fucking MacGyver out there, man. You give me three toothpicks, an antique stopwatch, some kosher salt and a hollowed out piñata and I'll get a three count out of it.
BBD: I respect that, I do. Really. But I'm like Michael Knight when I'm between the ropes. Cool, calm, collected. Behind the wheel of a super secret talking car, taking out the bad guys and reeling in the ladies. When it comes down to resourcefulness, there are two forces that can't be stopped. The Knight Rider, and 'Beautiful' Bobby Dean.
SS: That's pretty funny. It almost sounds like you're saying Knight Rider was better than MacGyver.
BBD: Well yeah, I think that's the general consensus.
SS: Amongst who? Douche bags? David Hasselhoff and his agent?
BBD: Uh, mankind.
SS: Fuck that, man! MacGyver was a veteran. Why do you hate America? Michael Knight was a fag, dude. He probably snuck into the Knight Industries compound every night, dropped a rufee in KITT’s gas tank and tried to stick it in his exhaust pipe.
BBD: MacGyver had to think up outlandish, impractical weapons because if he used a gun the lips of his vagina would quiver in fear. And you're calling Michael Knight a fag?
SS: All right, tell me how faggy this is. The first time I ever talked a chick into letting me put it in her butt, I used a sandwich bag, three rubber bands and a handful of Crisco. If it hadn't been for MacGyver’s lasting influence, I would've NEVER been able to think on my feet that quickly. If I'd been a Knight Rider fan, she would've walked right out the door that second, instead of waddling out the door hours later.
BBD: So wait, MacGyver isn't a fag... but he inspired you to commit your first act of sodomy?
SS: ... Fuck you, man.
The bartender sets down two fishbowl sized drinks in front of them.
Bartender: Compliments of the house.
SS: You want to question my manhood? There's only one way to settle this. Last guy to finish his drink probably likes the taste of penis. Readygo!
Seth cheaply jumps into his first, leaving Bobby at a disadvantage. Despite this, Bobby manages to just finish his first. He lets out a hearty laugh.
BBD: You said it. Not me. So don't get pissed when I mention to everyone that you enjoy the robust flavor of the male sexual organ.
SS: You're one to talk, Miss Lovelace. I haven't seen someone open their throat like that since my last trip to Bangkok.
The two exchange icy glares. Both men stand from their stools, or at least they try. Both stumble wildly, and Seth turns to the grizzled Bartender.
SS: What have you been putting in these?
Bartender: Well, those last two were a gift from Clem. He's down there at the end of the bar. They're one part cherry kool-aid mix, and one part real Kentucky moonshine.
BBD: Wait, you gave us fishbowls full of Moonshine?
SS: If I wasn't so pissed at this pretty boy here...
Seth motions to Bobby Dean.
SS: ... I'd accuse all of you all of trying to date rape me. I've seen Deliverance. I know how you goat ropers go about your business!
BBD: Who are you calling a pretty boy, Tennis star? You played a sport dominated by women and the Swiss!
That's it. The final straw.
Bar Patron: I think these'n two queers 'er gonna fight!
And they do. A full on slap fight ensues. Seth attempts to punch Bobby in the testicles. Their speech slowly begins to slur as the copious amounts of alcohol take hold.
BBD: Stop tryinna grab my balls shu fudge packerrr.
SS: In yerr fucking drreams, Lib... Liberace.
They move slowly to the door, as the rednecks hoot n' holler.
SS: Fuck thisss shit. Match on. Match motherrrrfucking ON. I'LL SEE YOU IN TH.. THE RING.
BBD: Yu... Yur wishizz my command, dickless.
A burly regular approaches the two.
Regular: Let me help you boys out.
And pushes the two very drunk men out the door. The scene fades.
Wolf: Well up next we’ve got a continuation from our tag match last week.
Ace: That’s right Wolf, last week The H-Town Hustlas took on Fracture in a tag team match for the ages. It appears they’ve got some bad blood between them, Wolf.
Wolf: And lucky for all of us tonight they’re going to settle a little bit of that bad blood tonight as Schism, one half of Fracture takes on Gutta Boy, one half of The H-Town Hustlas.
Escape The Fate – There’s No Sympathy For The Dead begins to play through the arena as Fracture fans rise to their feet. The Alltell Arena comes alive as Schism bursts through the curtain followed by Fracture.
Wolf: Well here they are folks. These two are quite the duo in The Row and quite different from The H-Town Hustlas, who are more bruisers than anything else.
Ace: These guys fly around the ring like they were born to do it.
Schism charges down the ring, followed soon after by Rupture who runs down the ramp as well. Schism jumps over the bottom rope and rolls into the ring before heading for the corner. He climbs to the middle turnbuckle, where he poses for the crowd. He then backflips back into the middle of the ring and bounces around the ring, waiting for the match to start.
Wolf: I love that backflip he does. Just a quick display of what we’ll be sure to expect the rest of this match.
Ace: Not if Gutta Boy has anything to do with it. He’s gonna come in here clubbing and keep Schism to the ground. That is if he wants to win.
Wolf: Is that how you see it, Ace?
Ace: That’s how I see it.
The crowd quiets down but quickly comes alive with cheer as 2 of Amerikas Most Wanted begins to play through the arena. Gutta Boy then appears from behind the curtain, followed by Rodd Macc who towers over him. The two salute the crowd as Gutta Boy charges down to the ring.
Wolf: Gutta Boy not wasting any time here! He wants Schism and he’s gonna go after him!
Ace: It’s a shame really, I was looking for some more stolen merchandise.
Gutta Boy slides into the ring and the bell rings. Gutta Boy charges Schism, who sees him and leaps up and slams him to the matt with a hurricanrana.
Wolf: Hurricanrana from Schism and this match is off and rearing to go!
Gutta Boy quickly gets to his feet and charges Schism once more and again Schism leaps up and slams him to the mat with yet another hurricanrana.
Wolf: Another hurricanrana from Schism!
Ace: Gutta Boy is gonna have to slow this down if he wants to win.
Gutta Boy rises to his feet once more, the match maintaining its fast past. He charges Gutta Boy once more and this time Schism leaps up and dropkicks him out of the ring. Gutta Boy hits the floor hard outside, and soon Rodd Macc comes over to check on him.
Wolf: Gutta Boy now on the outside after that textbook dropkick from Schism.
Ace: Rodd Macc giving his boy a little advice here.
Wolf: Yeah? And what do you think he’s saying.
Ace: Don’t get hurt by the other guy?
Wolf: That’s brilliant Ace, just brilliant.
Schism raises his arms for the crowd, who reciprocate his action with cheers. Schism then runs off the ropes and as he reaches the set of ropes on the other side of the ring he leaps up to the top rope and jumps from the rope and performs a flying cross body, landing on both Gutta Boy and Rodd Macc. The crowd pops.
Wolf: My God! Schism off the top rope with a springboard cross body!
Ace: And he got both Rodd Macc and Gutta Boy with that one!
Wolf: This arena is going crazy! The Alltell Arena has come alive thanks to the daredevil moves of Schism! These guys know how to get a crowd going!
Ace: Everybody loves high flying spots. Everybody.
Schism gets to his knees and quickly grabs Gutta Boy and tosses him back into the ring. Schism then jumps up to the apron and waits for Gutta Boy to get to his feet. As he does Schism jumps to the top rope and springboards off the rope with a dropkick, knocking Gutta Boy clean to the mat.
Wolf: Springboard dropkick by Schism! Gutta Boy is down!
Ace: And seeing stars!
Wolf: We’ve got a pin, we’ve got a pin!
Schism crawls over Gutta Boy for the pin and the ref hits the mat for the count.
Wolf: 1. . . 2. . . kick out! Gutta Boy’s not done yet!
Ace: But he’s gonna be unless he takes the air out of Schism’s wings!
Schism taunts Gutta Boy, and as Gutta Boy gets to his feet he grabs his head but Gutta Boy rises with punches. He hits Schism in the face with a left, then a right, and as Schism is rocked Gutta Boy runs off the ropes for momentum and leaps, knocking Schism to the mat with a clothesline.
Wolf: Running leaping clothesline from Gutta Boy.
Ace: Now keep him down stupid!
Gutta Boy then takes to stomping Schism. He stomps him once, twice, three times before grabbing his leg and turning him over with a boston crab.
Wolf: Single leg Boston crab by Gutta Boy, and what perfect placement too.
Ace: That’s right Wolf, Schism is right in the middle of the ring and there is nowhere for him to go.
As Gutta Boy wrenches back of Schism’s leg Schism lets out painful cries. Gutta Boy continues to wrench the leg and Schism can be seen reaching for the ropes, but he can’t seem to drag the two of them any closer to the ropes. The ref gets in and checks on Schism, asking him if he would like to submit.
Wolf: Schism is serious trouble here. Gutta Boy isn’t gonna break the hold.
Ace: Snap it off! Snap his damn leg off and get me a new TV! That last one you got me isn’t working anymore!
Wolf: I told you to never buy stolen goods Ace, you never know what you are getting---especially from the H-Town Hustlas!
Fracture gets up on the apron and the referee see’s him and quickly gets up to get him away. The refree threatens to throw him out but still Fracture stands, trying to get into the ring. Meanwhile Gutta Boy continues to wrench on Schism’s leg. Rodd Macc see’s Fracture trying to interfere and heads over toward Fracture, and as he does Fracture gets down off the apron.
Wolf: I don’t think Fracture wants any part of Rodd Macc, Ace.
Ace: You’re crazy Wolf. He just doesn’t want to get DQ’ed. That’s all. Fracture isn’t scared of anybody!
Fracture backs away with his hands up and Rodd Macc returns to his side of the ring. Back in the ring Schism finally manages to wriggle free and with several kicks he manages to free himself from Gutta Boy. Schism gets to his feet gingerly, favoring his left leg but charges Gutta Boy, now standing, and spins and kicks him successfully in the face.
Wolf: Beautiful spinning heel kick from Schism, and Gutta Boy is down.
Ace: Somebody get a dentist! I think I saw some teeth fly with that one.
With Gutta Boy down, his head hanging out over the apron, Schism grabs the top rop and slingshots himself over the ropes and drops a leg onto the back of Gutta Boy’s head. The momentum from the blow knocks Gutta Boy out of the ring.
Wolf: Guillotine leg drop from Schism, right on the back of Gutta Boy’s head.
Ace: An impressive move Wolf. I’m afraid Gutta Boy just might be outmatched here tonight, even with Rodd Macc by his side.
Wolf: But there’s just one problem! Rodd Macc is not a competitor in this match!
Ace: Exactly. It appears the H-Town Hustlas are not as strong when they are apart.
Schism raises his arms and the crowd pops. He then positions himself over toward the barricade and waits for Gutta Boy to get up.
Wolf: What—what’s Schism doing here?
Ace: I dunno, but something tells me Gutta Boy is not going to like it.
Gutta Boy slowly gets to his feet, sucking air, and as he does Schism runs, jumps up to the commentators table continuing his run, and grabs Gutta Boy by the head and comes down to the floor with a bulldog.
Wolf: My God that was—that was… What the hell was the Ace?
Ace: A running bulldog? A suicide bulldog? A bulldog with a commentating table for an assist? I dunno Wolf, all I know is only Schism would think of something like that!
The crowd pops, starting to chant DRW, DRW, DRW, as Schism grabs the fallen Gutta Boy and tosses him into the ring. He then climbs the turn buckle and sizes Gutta Boy off before leaping off with a corkscrew somersault senton bomb. He lands it perfect and then goes for the cover, the crowd counting alound as the ref hits the mat
Wolf: Spiral Tap by Schism! This one has to be over! We’ve got a pin 1. . . 2. . . 3!!
Ace: That’s it, it’s over! That’s the whole shebang!
Wolf: Schism making quick work of Gutta Boy tonight.
Ace: He couldn’t keep him out of the air, Wolf. Just like I said…
The fans in the arena are wound up after the last match, more and more excited about the upcoming matches when "It Gets Me Through" by Ozzy Osbourne begins playing throughout the arena.
Wolf: Umm. . . well. . . what’s this Ace? I don’t know anything about this.
Ace: Why are you looking at me. I have no idea what’s going on either.
Wolf: I apologize here fans, we were scheduled here for the next match but it seems…
Two newcomers to Death Row Wrestling make their first appearance on the stage. A young man wearing a suit seems to be leading the team. The young man makes his way to the ring taunting the fans the whole way to the ring. The man finally enters the ring and calls for a microphone.
Wolf: Well I don’t know who these guys are, but apparently they are going to tell us.
Ace: That one fella sure dresses nice. . .
Man: Well, Well, Well. Finally Here. I finally made it somewhere. I am here in Death Row Wrestling. I'm sure you are all wondering who we are? Well, this man to my left is Jason Cruz.
The man to his left is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He is a little taller than the other man. He has a full beard, but is bald. He gives a thumbs down to the crowd as the man continues speaking.
Man: Me, You ask? Well, I am Shane Jackson. The two of us are Ca$h Money. We are here for one thing and only one thing...Gold...well, two things. Gold and Cash. You see, we know that each and every one of you tag teams in the back have not proven a thing. So we are all on equal ground. When it comes down to it, you’re no match for our skills.
Wolf: Well it appears these Cash Money fellows are calling out the entire tag team divison!
The fans begin booing the man as the man takes his Suit jacket off to reveal a well defined upper body.
Shane: THIS is what a man's body should look like. When we have our debut match here in Death Row Wrestling you will know what being a real man is all about as we are going to show you what's real!
The men throw the microphone on the mat and head back up the ramp, the whole way Shane is taunting the fans as Jason is all business.
Ace: What the hell was that?!
Wolf: That was a challenge Ace!
Wolf: I’m sure loving this TV deal Ace.
Ace: Finally, my beautiful mug can be seen in televisions all over the country. Hello fans. Yes, it is me.
The camera cuts to Ace, who can be seen smirking like a real prick. Wolf meanwhile seems to be having trouble with his headset, his face contorting as he plays with it.
Wolf: I just wish Lee Best could get us some new equipment. My headset is buzzing. Is your headset buzzing Ace?
Ace: No way Wolf. It seems to me you need to turn down the volume on your hearing aid, you old bat!
Ace leans in close to Wolf, his mouth right up against his ear. He begins shouting.
Ace: CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?
We cut to a two shot of both Ace and Wolf sitting next to one another. The fans behind them act the way people who will never be on TV professionally act when they see a camera: mostly like a bunch of assholes. For instance, one guy keeps brandishing a I’M WITH STUPID sign.
Wolf: The jokes are getting a little old Ace.
Ace: Not as old as you Wolf.
Wolf looks to Ace and threatens him in an authoritative tone.
Wolf: It would be to your benefit to remember I’m not so old I can’t kick your ass. . .
Wolf throws up a threatening fist, but Ace just laughs at him.
Ace: Sure sure.
The first few guitar riffs to Tattoo by Van Halen begin, as we cut to a sweeping shot of the crowd. After his actions last week, the crowd erupts into a sea of boos.
Wolf: Well, we’ve got Seth Stratton here, who had an impressive debut last Injection, where he demolished a taller and bigger opponent in Tye Plasiance. . . We did see him earlier getting along quite famously with Bobby Dean.
Ace: Yep, but after a minor altercation it just snowballed. These two are after one another’s throats, Wolf. Bobby Dean should be careful, Seth smacked Tye around the ring last Lethal Injection like he was back out on the courts, hitting a ball around. You know I’ve got a pretty good forehand myself, Wolf.
Wolf: And your mother told you all those years jacking off would amount to nothing. . .
The curtain parts and Seth Stratton appears, his presence as loathsome to the crowd as before. But in his mind several women have already creamed their panties. It is this exact vanity that leads him to ignore the boos showering down all around him.
Wolf: Seth has won over quite a bunch of fans so far, hasn’t he?
Wolf says sarcastically.
Ace: Jealousy. This guy is a tri-athlete. There isn’t anything he can’t do.
Wolf: Sure there is. He can’t win a match clean, Ace. . . Not from what we’ve seen so far.
Seth smiles and begins his walk down to the ring, stumbling a little.
Wolf: Whoops, look out for that first step, it’s a doozy!
Ace: What step?
Seth tries to walk down the center of the aisle, but as he walks he weaves this way and that. At one point he collides with the barricade and the fans boo him as he quickly repels himself away, staggering toward the ring.
Wolf: Jesus Christ Ace. . . he’s still drunk!
Ace: That’s what happens when you drink before a match. Unless you’re Dark of course.
Wolf: I can’t believe it, how can we let him wrestle! This man is a danger to himself and his opponent!
Trying his best to look dignified, Seth reaches the ring and stumbles up the steps, having to grab on to the ropes to keep from falling off. He smiles and then climbs into the ring.
Wolf: God damn. . . if Seth is this shitfaced, his new drinking buddy must be in the same state. . . This can’t be good.
Ace: You never know Wolf, Bobby Dean is the best around, anyone who says different obviously doesn’t know his wrestling. He probably can hold his liquor too.
“You’re the Best Around” kicks up through the arena, bringing the fans to an enormous chorus of boos. The music continues to play and Bobby emerges from behind the curtain, donned in a blue sequin robe.
Wolf: Well he looks sober enough. . .
Ace: Look at that magnificent robe Wolf. I need something like that for when I get out of the shower.
Wolf: You shower, Ace?
Bobby holds his arms out for everyone to get a good look of him. Yeah you like that? You like that you fuckers? The crowd begins to boo even more, broken through with the occasional screams from disgusted women. When Bobby feels they’ve had a long enough look he illustrates his sexual prowess by throwing in a nice pelvic thrust.
Wolf: He seems alright Ace. . .
Ace: Sober as a judge Wolf.
Bobby begins his walk to the ring, his arms out at his sides, and promptly trips over his robe and rolls down the ramp.
Wolf: Oh God…
Ace: How embarrassing!
Bobby gets up and staggers around with a drunken smile on his face. He looks down and sees his robe is torn and pulls it off laughing. He climbs up into the ring, making precarious work of it, and as he climbs through the ropes his back foot hooks on the middle rope and he falls face first into the ring. Laughter can be heard in the arena.
Wolf: This is disgusting. Just disgusting. Our first time on national television, and these two show up drunk. I don’t know what to say Ace.
Ace: I say we follow suit and have us a shot!
Wolf: Hell no!
Ace: What--you a saint--you never touch the stuff?
Wolf: Am I the only one with any professionalism anymore?! Look at these two lushes in the ring!
The bell rings as Seth Stratton charges at the fallen Bobby falling on top of him.
Wolf: Come on ref! Throw em both out! Let’s have some professionalism here!
Ace: Oh quit your whining Ace. If Dark can do these two fine men can do it too. At least they’re fit!
Seth then pulls Bobby over and begins pounding his face with drunken lefts and rights. Half of the blows land, others hitting the matt. The ref comes over to Seth and tries to pull him off of Bobby, unsuccessfully.
Wolf: This is not a barroom, Ace! It’s a wrestling ring!
Ace: This is vintage Row. What do you think this is, High Octane Wrestling?!
Seth stumbles off Bobby and turns his anger toward the referee. He screams incoherently at the ref as Bobby gets to his feet. Turning Seth and Bobby lock up.
Wolf: Lock up. . .
They break the hold and stumble about the ring, Seth stumbling up against the ropes.
Wolf: Well attempted lock up. . .
Bobby charges Seth and Seth drops and lifts Bobby over the ropes and out of the ring. Seth then runs off the ropes and flings himself over the top rope, missing Bobby entirely.
Wolf: Seth with the body splash on nobody. . .
Ace: He must be seeing double Wolf!
Wolf: Again. . . can’t we stop this?!
Seth rolls around on the outside as Bobby gets up and laughs at Seth. Bobby then grabs Seth bringing him to his feet. He tries to slam Seth face first into the ring steps but Seth blocks it and instead Bobby staggers with the momentum, nearly falling on his ass.
Wolf: They can’t even stand up, let alone wrestle! Call this off! Call it off!
Ace: The way I see it, this is still better than the other guys. . .
Seth grabs Bobby and Irish whips him into the steel steps stationed at the other side of the ring. The momentum from the throw causes Seth to fall to his knees as Bobby plunges into the steps, disassembling them.
Wolf: Bobby Dean just took a spill! Seth threw him right into the steps!
Ace: Aww he’s so drunk he didn’t even feel it. These guys are fighting on alcohol fumes. The lights are on but no one is home. The pot is boiling but the cook is in the shitter. . . The—
Wolf: We get it Ace, we get it. They’re schnockered.
Ace: Drunker than the prom queen on prom night. Buzzed. Wasted. Loaded. Shitfaced. Dr—
Wolf: We get it! We get it!
Seth stumbles over toward Bobby Dean, who still lies on the floor selling the injury. Seth makes his way to Bobby, and steps over the ring steps and then proceeds to trip over it. He falls face first into Bobby Dean’s crotch.
Wolf: Unintentional low blow from Seth! This is why you don’t drink and wrestle kids.
Ace: You realize how many women are jealous of Seth right now?
Bobby grabs his groin as Seth rolls over onto his back. They both lay there outside of the ring, and the ref, frustrated, has no choice but to make the count. 1. . . 2. . . 3. . . 4. . . 5. . . 6. . . seconds pass before Seth gets to his feet and grabs Bobby, throwing him into the ring. Taking a moment to scream some obscenities at the fans, Seth follows and enters the ring after Bobby.
Wolf: I can’t even believe they’re cognizant enough to realize what’s going on. We could have had a double count out there.
Ace: And thank God we didn’t! Let’s get with the action!
Both men lay on the mat sucking wind. The crowd begins to boo the lack of action.
Wolf: The fans don’t like it either! Call this off before someone gets seriously hurt!
Ace: They’re only booing cause there’s nothing going on.
Bobby gets to his feet first, and as he stands over Seth, Seth reaches up grabbing his leg.
Wolf: Look at this! Seth is trying to get to his feet. He’s literally climbing Bobby Dean!
Bobby pulls Seth up to his feet, and then whips him into the ropes. Upon returning Bobby Dean bends at the waist to lift over Seth, but as he does Seth does the same thing, and both men stand, bent at the waist in the center of the ring, waiting to lift the other over their head.
Wolf: Both men thought the same thing! Look at this disgrace!
Ace: Thinking on the same page, that’s all Wolf. Both these men are wrestling geniuses.
Frustrated Bobby Dean straightens up and gets into Seth’s face. They start yelling at one another and Bobby promptly throws a right hitting Seth in the face. Seth staggers back and as he does Bobby grabs him and tosses him into the ropes. Again Bobby bends at the waist to lift Seth other his head, and again Seth does the same.
Wolf: Jesus Christ Ace, these two can’t even get a simple spot right.
Ace: There’s no miscommunication Wolf. These two just think so much alike it’s like trying to wrestle with yourself! You think one thing and the other guy is already thinking it himself!
Frustrated Bobby Dean charges Seth and clotheslines him to the mat. He then drops down and goes for the count.
Wolf: Thank God, this debacle might be over! We got a cover! A cover! 1. . . 2. . . Kick out! Damn! Seth kicks out!
Ace: Of course he kicks out, he’s no panty waist!
Bobby Dean rises and curses at the referee, insinuating something about the looseness of his mother. He then turns to Seth, now on his feet, punches him with a right, then a left, hooks his arm and lifts him up.
Wolf: This is a horrible idea Ace. This could very well be disastrous.
Bobby holds Seth vertically, staggering under the weight, trying to keep his balance. He falls back and Seth falls dangerously on the back of his neck.
Wolf: Botchamania, here we come!
Ace: Seth just took a dangerous fall. All that weight coming down on his neck—let’s hope it’s not too serious, Wolf.
Wolf: Are you kidding! We’ve got to stop this thing! Am I the only sane one here?!
The crowd pops as both men sell the suplex. Seth seems to not be moving, his chest heaving up and down. We know he’s at least alive. Bobby Dean struggles to his knees, and then pulls himself up with the ropes and slumps in the corner.
Wolf: That one took a lot out of both competitors!
Ace: The Beautiful One is sucking wind!
Bobby Dean continues to breathe in the corner, his face looking strange. He looks up and suddenly his mouth opens, his abdomen contracting. A torrent of vomit comes out all over the corner of the ring.
Ace: Bobby Dean had pizza before the match. Definitely pizza.
Wolf: That and a whole lot of booze Ace. This is just disgraceful.
The ref checks on Bobby Dean, and upon catching a whiff of the vomit he turns and vomits himself over the side of the ring. It splashes up against the fans, the chunkier bits slopping over the ground.
Wolf: The ref is even puking now! What an embarrassment to the Row! The Great Puke-A-Thon of 2012. . .
Those fans in the front row more inclined to being queasy soon begin to vomit themselves, torrents of puke spilling out along the ring. Screams begin to erupt from fans getting puked on, and seeing this, Seth rises suddenly and heaves, the heaving bending his body over. He turns and pukes over the side of the ring himself, bits of half masticated food but mostly liquor spilling out on the floor.
Ace: I think I just puked a little, in my mouth.
Wolf: This is shameful. . . just shameful. How can we ever live this down? Scarred for life. We’re ruined… just ruined!
We cut to Tim Ross in the back, shining up one of his pistols. He looks at his TV, sees the action and proceeds to vomit all over his desk.
Ace: Oh my god here it comes!
We cut to a two shot of Ace and Wolf, Ace bent over, his head in a wastebasket. We can hear him puking, sayin’ ‘oh god, oh god,’ in between heaves.
Wolf: What have you been eating? Smells like... smells like…
Wolf then can be heard puking.
Ace: Jesus Christ!
Seth wipes his mouth and ascends upon Bobby, but as he gets close he slips in some puke, falling to a knee. Bobby laughs and then measures up Seth and kicks him square in the face, the force of the blow knocking Seth to his back. Bobby scrambles over to him and then starts punching away at his face, his weight on Seth’s sternum.
Wolf: Seth is trapped under Bobby. The stench in this place is horrible!
Ace: You said it. Jesus Christ. I’m gonna be sick.
Content Seth has had enough, Bobby stops punching and goes for the cover. Grudgingly the ref drops to his knees and goes for the count.
Wolf: Please let this be the end! Oh please! 1. . . 2. . . NO! Seth kicks out.
Bobby picks up Seth and promptly tosses him out of the ring. He then drops to his knees, exhausted.
Wolf: Remember kids, I can’t say it enough, don’t drink and wrestle! Don’t drink and drive!
Ace: But most importantly, don’t drink and fuck! As Chance Von Crank would say. It’s a lose lose situation. You ever wake up next to a pig Wolf? Oh what I’m saying, you do every morning.
Wolf: You son of a bitch, Mrs. Waylon Wolf is a saint!
Seth: Hu-hu-hey now sonofabitch. F-fu-fuck!
Wolf: Jesus, no! Seth has got a mic!
Having been thrown out of the ring, Seth had stumbled to the ring announcer and had gotten himself a mic. He now talks, the words coming out drunkenly and incoherent.
Seth: I—I—I—eyeeeee. . . I used to be a champion! Wimb-Wimbeledon! The US Open! I’ve done it all you fuckers! I used to walk on the cu-cu-court and there’d be dozen of bitches in the crowd just waiting to jump on muh-muhdick. Justwaitingtojumponmydick af-ter a matchhhhh. And nowww luckkkk at meeh.
Wolf: Someone get that mic away from that man! This is now time for a drunken speech!
Ace: You think Seth is one of those people who drink and dial? Callin’ up old girlfriends and all that crap?
Wolf: I don’t know. I don’t care. This is no time for this!
Seth: Wh-what happened in the wu-wurld? Youuu can’t even cooooerce a wooomen into have-having sex with you without it being considered sexual harassment! Mi-Minorities in positions of pow-powwweer, and hip-hippies getting a free rhhide offnmy taxes! Gu-gu-gays in the military!
Seth sees Bobby Dean approaching him and promptly hits him with the mic, the sound amplified by the microphone. BOK!
Wolf: Oh thank God he’s shut up! We were a few lines away from a lawsuit!
Ace: Oh I’m sure there will be many angry letters coming Tim Ross’s way. The good thing is is he has Cort read em first. And we all know Cort can’t read.
Seth picks up Bobby Dean and rams him into the barricade. Bobby Dean crumples and Seth falls himself, taking a sudden drunken spill.
Wolf: Both men down after that. Bobby Dean due to Seth, and Seth due to his own inability to stand up. This is just disgraceful. . . In all my years. . .
Ace: Change the record already Wolf. Jesus Christ.
Seth staggers then hits Bobby with a couple of chops to the chest. Bobby writhes under the chops and when Seth is done he tosses him into the ring. Seth then climbs in after Bobby and tosses him into the ropes. As he returns he hits him with a spinning backhand.
Wolf: We’ve seen this before Ace! You know what’s coming next!
Seth bounces off the ropes and measures up an elbow to the back of Bobby’s head, but as he brings it down he completely misses Bobby. Bobby bends back up and trips Seth and then goes for the pin.
Wolf: Seth misses! Seth misses!
Ace: We’ve got a cover!
Wolf: 1. . . 2. . kick out! Seth kicks out.
Bobby gets to his feet, still staggering around from the affects of the booze. He lifts his leg and goes into the Flying Crane pose.
Ace: Straight from karate kid!
Wolf: Not a good idea, Ace. Bobby can hardly stand on two feet, let alone one.
Bobby stands in the Flying Crane pose as Seth gets to his feet. Seeing his pose Seth goes into a karate stance all of his own.
Ace: Drunken Master. A little drunken kung fu, Wolf.
Wolf: Ridiculous! Ridiculous!
They circle around one another, making kung fu noises. Bobby Dean goes for a kick but sorely miscalculates the distance and hits nothing but air. Seeing the opportunity Seth slaps him across the face whilst doing his best Bruce Lee impression.
Wolf: Slap by Seth.
Ace: Drunken chop!
Wolf: No, that was definitely a slap.
Seth uses his other hand and slaps Bobby’s other cheek.
Wolf: Another slap by Seth.
Ace: Another drunken chop!
Seth then spins and hits Bobby in the abdomen with a spinning backfist.
Wolf: Backhand from Seth!
Bobby Dean bends over from the blow, and turns toward the corner. He can be seen reaching in his shorts, his hand moving furious around, but all Bobby Dean can feel is his dick and his balls. As he continues to search Seth Stratton bounces off the ropes and hits him in the back of the head with an elbow.
Wolf: Match point! Match point! Bobby Dean was searching in his shorts and didn’t even see it coming.
Ace: I’m afraid he brought along the wrong pair! There’s a pair of underoos in the back that are packin some serious heat!
Wolf: He was drunk and forgot his brass knuckles, obviously! We’ve got a pin! We’ve got a pin!
The ref scrambles to the mat as Seth Stratton stumbles to the mat and goes for the pin.
Wolf: 1. . . 2. . . 3! It’s over! This debacle is over!
Ace: The stink is still in the air.
Wolf: A drunken Seth Stratton wins with the Match Point after Bobby Dean forgets to load his own shorts. Remember, never drink and wrestle kids. My God it stinks in here. I think I’m gonna be sick!
Ace: We've got to go to break or something! Get a clean up crew out here!
Wolf: And we are back from commercial break, getting ready for our next mat...
The camera cuts to a two shot of Wolf and Ace sitting at the commentators table. The fans behind them go crazy as they notice the cameras.
Wolf: Well I don’t know what to say folks. Cort Vang is after FJ Tombs, these two still have some unfinished business!
Ace: Cort Vang is one person I wouldn’t want after me. He’s a loose cannon, as unpredictable as they come. This kid has issues and everyone else has to pay the price because of it.
Wolf: The real question is, will Tombs be concentrated on his opponent tonight IM Hate, the man who attacked him last Lethal Injection?
Ace: I think he will, I mean we all know Tombs is a professional. He’s already said it himself, he’s not in this match for revenge or any of that. He’s here to do his job, and that’s that.
The lights in the arena start to dim down to a misty shadowy feel, as the sounds of Tech N9ne’s ‘Am I Pyscho’ starts to pour into the sound system.
I see you looking at me
Looking at me,
So I ask am I psycho?
Am I psycho?
I guess I’m a psycho
Ian Michaels comes out in his half mask that resembles his uncle’s Anti-Hero mask and his white sleeveless trench coat shines with every camera flash that snaps in his direction. Ian walks down the isle in dead center just out of the reach of any fan. The fans give a mixed reaction.
Wolf: Nobody knows what quite to make of Ian Michaels here tonight. All I know is I don’t like him after his attack on FJ Tombs.
Ace: FJ Tombs is so baby face you could take a piece of shit, frame it and give it to him as a present and he’d thank you immensely for a wonderful piece of art.
I’m no longer the boy you’re used to seeing
I’ve changed a lot
Plus I’ve grown to hate every human being!
Ian walks around to the steel steps and removes his trench coat and hands it off to someone at ringside. He slowly grabs the mask and lifts it up over his head and hands it off. He turns his neck right to left, and walks up the steps. As he steps on the apron, he wipes the bottom of his shoes off, and steps between the top and middle ropes as the lights return to normal the music fades out.
Wolf: IM Hate looking particularly hateful tonight, Ace.
Ace: This guy hates everything. He hates his mother. He hates the sun. He hates himself. Hell he probably even hates money. Well hell, let me have it! I don’t hate money.
Wolf: Yeah, we all know you loooove money Ace, it may be why you’re so reluctant to part with it, yah cheap bastard.
Ace: Is this about lunch this afternoon? I told you I forgot my wallet at the hotel!
Wolf: Yeah yeah…
Kiss My Country Ass erupts through the arena as the fans rise to their feet to cheer FJ Tombs. Those with signs raise them over their heads. Tombs emerges from behind the curtain with a smile on his face, but as he tries to raise his arm he grimaces a little and the smile fades from his face.
Wolf: It appears the damage has been done Ace.
Ace: Yeah that little Cort Vang is a real shit kicker. You get in a scrap with him and its bound to show on yah.
Instead of saluting each half of the crowd Tombs gives a slight nod and makes his way down the aisle. He reaches out and slaps the outstretched fans, taking his time to slap the hands of most of the kids. He looks to the ring as he makes his way down, his face etched with determination.
Wolf: As always, Tombs is ready to work, injured or not. That’s the sort of blue-collar work ethic that made this country.
Ace: Yeah that and slaves.
Ace: What? Can’t deny history. . .
As Tombs reaches to steps he stops slapping hands and begins climbing into the ring. He walks to the middle of the apron and cautiously swings his leg between the top and middle rope and pulls himself through, into the ring. He raises his arms up in the air and the crowd cheers.
Wolf: Who do you like in this one Ace?
Ace: I dunno Wolf. That Tombs looks like he’s taking quite a licking, and the match hasn’t even started yet.
Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen the following match is for one fall and has a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, fighting out of Charlotte, North Carolina by way of Jacksonville Florida, weighing in a two hundred and fifty pounds, he is the God of Hate, I. . . M. . . HHHHaaaatttttteeee!
Wolf: Both IM Hate and FJ Tombs are about the same size and stature coming into this match. They’re pretty equally matched in nearly every aspect.
Ace: Except hate. IM Hate has got gobs of it. Though they boy have the annoying desire to be called by their first two initials.
Wolf: Ian Michaels and Frank Joe, that’s right Ace. Look at you, a real scholar!
Announcer: And his opponent, from Athens, Texas, weighing in at two hundred and seventy five pounds, F. . . J. . . TOOOOMMMMBBBBS!
The fans let out a collective cheer as both men come face to face in the center of the ring. The ref gives a brief review of the rules already discussed in the back, but both men don’t seem to hear them, their intensity and every bit of attention directed toward one another.
Wolf: Big fight stare down here between Tombs and IM Hate.
Ace: Tombs is looking into those beedy eyes of Ian Michaels and is no doubt seeing years of repressed anger and hatred, Wolf. I know I’d hate to look in his eyes, must be much like staring Death straight in the face.
Wolf: You’re on to something there Ace.
The stare down continues, as IM Hate smiles with hatred at Tombs, who seems to be too focused to be fazed by IM Hate. The two men begin to circle one another, Tombs circling with his arms out, looking for a possible hold. IM Hate does the same, but instead he’s looking for the strike.
Wolf: Both men feeling one another out here. What a feeling here in the arena.
Ace: You can feel the anticipation in the air Wolf. The fans are buzzing and the tension is palpable.
Wolf: We’ve got a lock up!
Both men lock up in the center of the ring. Quickly Tombs gains the upper hand and powers over IM Hate. The fans pop at this development, but as Hate is brought to his knee’s he places a well placed strike up against Tombs’ injured ribcage. The strike has a profound effect, as Tombs breaks the hold and can be seen wincing from the blow.
Wolf: Cort must be happy. He’s obviously affected Tombs here tonight. That blow really hurt him.
Ace: With a striker like IM Hate you can expect nothing less.
IM Hate then gets to his feet as Tombs grabs at his ribs, selling the injury. IM Hate smiles this and grabs Tombs, hurling him in one motion to the mat. Tombs writhes with pain.
Wolf: Powerslam by IM Hate. Tombs really feeling the effect of that one!
Ace: It’s clear he’s at a disadvantage, if IM Hate is smart enough to see through all that red—through all that hatred for the world and everything in it, he’ll take advantage of it and work Tombs’ already nagging injuries!
IM Hate stomps Tombs in his exposed ribs, each stomp bringing a grimace to Tombs face. Tombs tries to crawl toward the ropes by IM Hate reaches down and grabs him around the chin and sits on his back, pulling back on Tombs head.
Wolf: IM Hate is just sitting there on the small of Tombs’ back.
Ace: But Tombs is too close to the ropes! All he’s got to do is reach out there and grab em!
Tombs reaches out and grabs the bottom rope, and the ref gets in IM Hates face and instructs him to break the hold. To this IM Hate responds by pulling back further on Tombs head. The ref begins to count, 1… 2… 3…. IM Hate breaks the hold and the ref warns him with a finger in his face.
Wolf: Respectful officiating here tonight by our head official. He’s keeping this thing fair, a rarity it seems, these days.
Ace: The Row is an ever changing beast. We aren’t stagnate and stale like those other guys. . .
Tombs slowly gets to his feet with the help of the ropes. IM Hate comes over to him and chops him in the chest, once, twice, three times, before pushing him off the ropes and Irish whipping him into the next set of ropes stationed on the opposite side of the ring. As Tombs returns IM Hate charges him and knocks him to the mat with a clothesline.
Wolf: Short armed clothesline by IM Hate.
Ace: He nearly took Tombs head off with that one!
IM Hate hits the mat and covers Tombs. The ref hits the mat and makes the count.
Wolf: 1. . . 2. . . Tombs kicks out! Tombs kick out! This one is not over yet.
Ace: Tombs has the heart of the lion. Or is it the courage of a lion?
Wolf: Regardless of the saying, I think both apply here Ace.
IM Hate brings Tombs to his feet and then Irish whips him into the corner. Tombs hits the corner with a loud thud and nearly crumples to the mat. IM Hate is quickly on him and with precision he starts hitting Tombs with strikes, to the gut and the head. Tombs rocks with each hit, caught helpless in the corner.
Wolf: Tombs at the wrong end of all of these strikes.
Ace: Ian Michaels letting out a whole lot of hate tonight, a whole lot of hate!
IM Hate stops his strikes and takes a moment to taunt the crowd. Seeing his opening Tombs unleashes a quick rabbit punch to IM Hate’s throat. The blow surprises him, and Tombs grabs IM Hate and turns him around, slamming him into the corner he had just occupied. He then starts hitting IM Hate with countless rights, the crowd getting louder with each quick, successive blow.
Wolf: Tombs returning the favor now! He’s a blur of punches, letting IM Hate have it!
Ace: May he has a little pent up aggression after the attack after all. No one can forgive something like that so easily. FJ Tombs claim he can, but I’m not buying it Wolf.
Wolf: Well he’s certainly letting go tonight!
IM Hate comes staggering out of the corner and as he does Tombs lifts him and slams him to the mat with a spine buster.
Wolf: Spine buster by Tombs, and Tombs has new life! These fans are going nuts!
Ace: Behind their man, as always. . . I tell you it makes me sick!
Tombs rises to his feet and raises his arms over his head, turning three hundred and sixty for all the crowd to see. The crowd goes nuts, and feeding off of their energy Tombs picks up IM Hate and grabs his arm. He then pulls IM Hate toward him and clotheslines him to the mat.
Wolf: Clothesline by Tombs!
Tombs keeps his hold on IM Hate and pulls him up and pulls him toward him again, clotheslining him to the mat.
Wolf: And another clothesline by Tombs!
Tombs motions to the crowd with his other hand that he intends to do it one more time. The crowd by now is still cheering loudly, and as Tombs pulls IM Hate up again and pulls him toward him for the final clothesline, IM Hate puts out his foot and kicks Tombs in the gut. Tombs bends at the waist and IM Hate grabs Tombs by the head and DDTs him to the mat. The crowd immediately quiets down, the wind suck from their sails.
Wolf: Tombs is down and there go the fans.
Ace: He should have quit while he was ahead Wolf, but instead he’s on the mat and Hate is standing over him. And listen to these fans! You could hear a pin drop. IM Hate has effectively gagged this entire crowd!
Wolf: What’s left of it anyway—after that puking debacle!
Ace: The Death Row faithful. . .
Both men lay on the mat, breathing heavily. The ref looks down at both of them, and begins to make the count. 1. . . 2. . . both men are quickly up, IM Hate getting up first, followed by Tombs. Seeing Tombs IM Hate measures up a kick and plants it expertly along Tombs’ ribs. Tombs winces from the kick and the crowd begins to boo.
Wolf: Another kick from IM Hate. A rib injury is always painful! You can’t breathe, you can’t eat. . .
Ace: From the looks of you Wolf, that last one would be really hard for you. . . You could lose a few pounds.
Wolf: Why you little. . .
IM Hate kicks him once more and then Irish whips him into the ropes. As Tombs returns IM Hate goes from another clothesline, but Tombs ducks and bounces off yet another set of ropes. As he returns, IM Hate turns around and Tombs grabs him around the head and them applies pressure with his other arm.
Wolf: Sleeper hold now by Tombs! He’s got IM Hate locked in!
Ace: Look at those eyes bulge! It looks like Tombs is trying to squeeze the life out of him!
IM Hate reaches out, waving his arms about as he tries to get out of the hold. The fans begin to buzz at the possibility of IM Hate tapping out. The referee gets in his face and checks to see if he wishes to submit. Unable to turn his head, IM Hate waves his arms about and can be seen shouting NO.
Wolf: IM Hate is gonna have to get out of this one or he’s gonna be put out pretty soon.
Ace: That arm is right up against IM Hates windpipe, cutting off his air. Notice the discoloration in IM Hate’s face. . . Not long now. . .
IM Hate continues to struggle then raises his leg up, kicking Tombs with a low blow. The hold is instantly released as Tombs holds back a desire to puke. The crowd collectively lets out on OHHHH as IM Hate grabs him around the head and spins, knocking him to the mat.
Wolf: Spinning neck breaker from IM Hate after the great equalizer, the low blow.
Ace: Tombs is gonna come out of this match with nearly every inch of his body covered in bruises, including his balls.
IM Hate then picks up Tombs and tosses him out of the ring, following quickly after him. Tombs gets to his feet and IM Hate grabs him and tosses him into the barricade. Tombs winces from the collision and IM Hate wastes no time striking him in the face with lefts and rights. Tombs rocks from every blow, and IM Hate grabs him and tosses him into the steel steps disassembling them.
Wolf: My God! Tombs just went into those steps!
Ace: Those poor ring steps. What did they ever do to IM Hate?
Wolf: He hates everything and everyone, remember?
Ace: Oh yeah that’s right. How dare steps be so inconvenient.
Tombs lays crumbled on the ground and IM Hate hovers over him laughing. He then brings Tombs slowly to his feet and throws him into the ring. He slides in after him and goes for the cover.
Wolf: We’ve got a pin here ladies and gentlemen, this could be it. 1. . . 2. . . NO! Tombs kicks out!
Ace: You just can’t put this man down. He’s destructible sure, but he keeps coming, whether he’s can chase you down or he’s got to hobble after you.
Wolf: What heart and determination Ace! Tombs never wishes to put on a bad match!
Frustrated IM Hate picks up Tombs and works him into the corner. He hits him with a few chops, each one turning Tombs’ chest more and more red.
Wolf: Vicious chops from IM Hate.
Ace: The red is peeking through that mane of chest hair Wolf!
IM Hate then tries to Irish whip Tombs into the opposite corner but Tombs hold onto the top rope. IM Hate tries to Irish whip him but again Tombs holds onto the bottom rope, heeding any forward progress. Tombs then charges out of the corner and slams IM Hate to the mat with a running shoulder block.
Wolf: Shoulder block by Tombs, Hate is up, Clothesline by Tombs, Hate is up again. Both men are exchanging blows now in the middle of the ring.
Ace: Back and forth, back and forth Wolf.
Both men exchange blows in the center of the ring and then Tombs gains the advantage by poking IM Hate in the eye. Instinctively IM Hate reaches up to his eye, selling the eye poke. Tombs then knocks him to the mat with a big boot, and the crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers.
Wolf: Big boot from Tombs, and IM Hate is on the mat!
Ace: That’s a whole lotta boot Wolf.
Wolf: You can say that again.
Ace: That’s a whole lotta boot Wolf.
Wolf: I didn’t mean… oh your hopeless as usual Ace.
Tombs then throws up a taunt for all of the crowd and they let of a cheer. Tombs then picks up IM Hate, punches him a few times and then hooks his arm, lifting him vertically into the air.
Wolf: Impressive display of power by Tombs here.
Ace: Even more impressive when you consider this man is wrestling injured.
Tombs then slams IM Hate to the mat with a massive vertical suplex. The crowd pops as Tombs then gets on top of Hate, pounding his face with lefts and rights.
Wolf: Tombs letting loose on IM Hate now, and there’s nowhere to go.
Ace: All that weight on top of him, Wolf. He’s not going anywhere.
When Tombs is content with the blows he gets off of IM Hate and brings him to his feet. He raises an arm and the crowd cheers. Tombs then grabs IM Hate and tosses him into the corner, and IM Hate goes through the top and middle turnbuckle, hitting the ring post, shoulder first.
Wolf: My God! IM Hate just went shoulder first into that ring post.
Ace: Vintage Row… Vintage Row…
Wolf: Are you gonna say that all night Ace?
Ace: If the show keeps being so memorable, then yes. Tossing IM Hate into the ring post, well that’s certainly one way to keep him from striking.
IM Hate comes out of the corner grabbing his shoulder, wincing in pain. As he comes out Tombs grabs him around the throat and slams him to the mat with a choke slam. IM Hate sells the bump and the crowd pops.
Wolf: Choke slam now by FJ Tombs. It seems like he is in control. Will he be able to win it?
Ace: I dunno, but that was quite the choke slam. IM Hate is down and he aint moving Wolf.
Tombs looks around at the crowd and they start to rise to their feet, anticipating the end of the match. Tombs raises his arms and then points to IM Hate like he’s going to finish it.
Wolf: This looks to be it folks. But what’s this, who’s that out by the entrance.
Ace: It’s. . . It’s Cort Vang!
Cort Vang appears from behind the apron, his hand already extended pointing the finger. He is yelling something at Tombs as he descends down to the ring. Tombs turns and see’s him and begins jabbering back at him.
Wolf: Someone get this guy out of here!
Ace: Looks like Tombs just may be in for even more trouble from the One Man Misdameanor.
Tombs continues to yell at Cort as he gets closer and closer to the ring, he doesn’t even notice IM Hate is up and standing behind him. IM Hate yells something at Tombs and he turns around just in time to get a Mafia kick from IM Hate.
Wolf: Mafia hit from Hate! And look at Cort now! He’s leaving the scene!
Cort begins to back up the ramp, laughing at Tombs as IM Hate grabs Tombs arms and lifts his chest and head off the canvas. IM Hate looks up at Cort and smiles as he places his foot on the back of Tombs head.
Wolf: Oh my God! My God! I can’t watch this, this is not right!
Ace: Head smashing time!
IM Hate releases Tombs’ arms as he stomps down on the back of his head, slamming Tombs face first into the mat. The crowd lets out a chorus of boos as IM Hate flips him over and steps on his chest for the pin.
Wolf: Arrogant pin from IM Hate, 1. . . 2. . . 3!! Damn it no! No! Can Tombs ever get a break? Week in and week out he’s getting screw out of his matches. This week, it’s all thanks to Cort Vang.
Ace: Well he and Cort obviously have some bad blood, and after tonight, I don’t think their relationship will get much better.
Wolf: Damn you Cort Vang! Damn you! None of this is right! Tombs had that match won!
Ace: Had Tombs kept his head in the game and ignored Cort Vang, he would have finished off IM Hate when he had the chance. He’s as much at fault as Cort Vang.
Wolf: It aint right Ace! It just aint right!
Wolf: It’s come to that time folks, for the over the top battle royal for the Death Row Championship, which is currently being held by Skidd Row.
Ace: Yes well all these men in this match have been in the title hunt for a long time, well, Dark he’s been the champ for awhile now, but having just lost it he’s been thrown into the fray.
Wolf: If you’re unfamiliar with the rules, the way it works it quite simple. If a competitor goes over the top rope they are eliminated. If you go through the middle rope your still safe, if you roll out of the ring your still safe, it’s the top rope you’ve got to go over.
Ace: Yes, the battle royal, its been evening the playing field for fat wrestlers since its inception.
Wolf: That’s the God awful truth of it ladies and gentlemen.
A huge cocking noise is heard followed by a gun blast over the arena. cVc’s voice is heard afterwards spouting his famous catchphrase.
Wolf: Well, here he comes. He’s certainly Death Row’s most… ahem… colorful characters.
Ace: The Trailer Park Prodigy has arrived ladies and gentlemen, hide your daughters!
The music can be heard as The Trailer Park Prodigy emerges from behind the curtain. Everyone in the arena immediately begins to boo, and a “CVC Fucking Sucks!” chant breaks out throughout the crowd.
Wolf: Fans voicing their opinion of Mr. Crank here. . . uh with some choice words of course.
cVc begins his descent down to the ring turning every so often to each side of the crowd, simulating masturbation out in front of his body. After a few strokes cVc can be heard shouting “Aw Ski Ski” after a few simulated strokes, signaling that he has busted his load.
Wolf: Well cVc with some… uh… choice gestures here.
Ace: He was stroking his cock!
Wolf: Jesus Ace you can’t say that! Have some class!
Ace: What?! That’s what he was doing? Maybe the blind viewers wanna know what’s going on?
Wolf: Blind… viewers… think about what you’re saying Ace.
Chance slides through the ropes and gets up and takes off his ‘The Reluctant One’ shirt and tosses it into the crowd. The shirt promptly makes it return, landing on Chance’s head.
Wolf: The fans don’t want that stinking thing!
Ace: Because they’re stupid, who wouldn’t want a cVc shirt?
Wolf: Anyone who showers regularly, Ace. That’s who.
Ace: Oh what do you know, part of The Trailer Park Prodigy’s charm is his meticulous hygiene.
Chance rips the shirt off and turns tossing it to the other side of the arena. Again the shirt promptly comes back. He rips the t-shirt down mid flight and jumps up to the middle turnbuckle and holds his arms high as the fans boos and shower him with FUCK YOU CVC… FUCK YOU CVC…. FUCK YOU CVC….
“I Am Cool” begins to play and the crowd boos with intensity, as Cancer Jiles emerges from behind the curtain with a smile on his face. It is yet another opportunity for The Row to witness The Cool One.
Wolf: Here comes Cancer Jiles, who’s been on a bit of a losing streak, Ace.
Ace: Well it appears that now that Doozer is busy with Death Row paper work, he and Cancer don’t get to have as much fun together anymore.
Wolf: Wow, isn’t that a little. . . gay?
Ace: Yea, it is Wolf.
Cancer begins his walk to the ring, taking in the crowd. Numerous signs begin to appear, announcing twitter accounts and each particular sign holder’s hatred or adoration for a particular wrestler. Cancer walks down the aisle, doing his best at every moment to exude cool.
Wolf: Well Cancer is coming to the ring, and currently, the only man in there is a man who has said that he’s making a career out of beating Cancer Jiles.
Ace: Well he has beaten The Cool One twice now. Not many can say that. Hell he’s even shanked The Cool one, and not many can say that either. And if he beats him tonight, it’s gonna be three times now. And personally I think he can do it, Cancer is not right, he’s not focused, he’s mind is elsewhere.
Wolf: Up the skirt of the other guys no doubt?
Ace: Exactly Wolf, exactly.
Cancer climbs into the ring as cool as possible. He stands as cool as possible. He breathes as cool as possible. He’s so cool he doesn’t even take off his sunglasses. He looks to Chance and Chance meets his gaze with an insolent smirk. Chance then throws him a pelvic thrust and puts up two fingers, indicating that he’s already beat him twice.
Wolf: The ring is looking crowded, and it’s only going to get worse folks. Men and personalities will collide tonight! We’ve got a vain star, a drunk, white trash, and a loose cannon.
Ace: Ooh ooh, which one is Dark?
Wolf: Which do you think?
The lights in the arena suddenly brighten as ‘Crucified’ by All bounces off the eardrums of the Death Row faithful. Cort Vang then appears, whipping through the curtain. He looks around at the crowd with a sneer and then stretches out his arms, mocking the crucifixion.
- Kentucky Tarzan