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Lethal Injection IX

15 Aug 2012

Charleston Civic Center, Charleston, West Virginia (seats 13,500)


One Million Fists

The camera feed opens in a courtyard outside the Charleston Civic Center in Charleston, WV. Rows of folding chairs are set up and occupied by an assortment of rubenesque women with unhappy scowls, all looking straight ahead at a small stage with a podium. Standing behind the podium is the largest of them all, bleached blonde hair spilling down to her shoulders, a crucifix hanging below her third chin. A name tag affixed to her chest reads simply, ‘Peg’.

Peg:  Ladies, you know why we’re all here. We’re here to shake a defiant fist in the face of immorality. We’re here to rock the foundation of the evils that plague our society, and attempt to foul the minds of our children. We’re here to tell Death Row Wrestling that if they think they can waltz into town and promote violence, misogyny, and homosexual behavior… That they will incur the wrath of One Million Moms!

Assorted cheers from the crowd. The underarm fat of Peg’s constituents jiggles with glee.

Peg:  I’ve had the misfortune of screening the events these… these savages have been putting on, and ladies, I can tell you with no doubt they are the sickest, dirtiest, most Un-Christian organization on the face of this earth. Everything run by a felon, wrestlers showing up drunk, and yes… even murder.

Hands cover jowls in the crowd, but shocked gasps still escape.

Peg:  That’s right. We have a special guest this evening. She happens to be the mother of the deceased party, and I’d like to welcome her to the podium now. Ladies, put your hands together for Momma Hydreck.

From off screen ambles Momma Hydreck, mother of Josh. She’s a rather lean woman with long, ratty black hair, her face gaunt. She walks up the steps to the stage in her Sunday best, torn thrift store blue jeans and a a Ted Nugent t-shirt that showcases her track mark laden arms. She’s three sheets to the wind already and stumbles as she reaches the podium.

MH:  They… they killed my baby! I taught that boy everything, how to build a meth lab, how to hide things up your bottom, even how to get camera crews kicked out of nightclubs! Now he’s gone! Granted, I hadn’t seen him since he was three months old and I sold him to that old gypsy couple for two King Cobra tall boys and a sack of weed, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t have a bond!

Peg tries to overtake the podium as the once grief stricken faces of the One Million Moms take on looks of horror, but Momma Hydreck brushes her off.

MH:  I remember the day he was born. I was on the floor of an abandoned house in Milwaukee where me and my fifth husband Lem were living at the time. I’m sitting there coming off a high, minding my own business, and that’s when the contractions start. There was very little pain, since Josh was my tenth child and the works were pretty well stretched out, so out he plops like a Christmas ham through a king sized sheet, right onto the floor. Thud. ‘Course, he wasn’t as big as a Christmas ham, but he was a healthy two, three pounds. Anyway, Lem picks little Josh up and we notice he’s been impaled by one of the used needles on the floor…

Peg:  Okay, Missus Hydreck, thanks for shar-

MH:  … And Lem says, ‘Well, if you didn’t pass your AIDS on to the baby, he’s sure as shit got it now’…


Momma Hydreck steps aside, confused, unaware of her own un-lady like behavior. She yells something that gets picked up by the mic.

MH:  Do I get that bottle of Jager now or what?

Peg:  You go on now, Missus Hydreck! The poor dear, she’s obviously distraught.

A couple of women in the front row stand, and escort Momma Hydreck off the stage and out of camera shot.

Peg:  Let’s move on. Our plan for tonight is this. Half of us will stay outside in the courtyard, where I’ve been told many news broadcasters will attend. The other half of us will trudge directly into the eye of the storm, and bring out message into the building. That’s right, ladies. It’ll take a steel resolve and a strong stomach, but as long as we keep our trust in the lord, and the group, we will persevere!

Cheers from the crowd as some of the ladies stand.


With that, Peg leads a line of half the Moms straight towards the entrance of the Civic Center, as we fade to the Lethal Injection IX introduction.


Summer drags on, and so does The Row.  Your kids bothering you with school supplies yet?  The old wife tear your hair out yet?  What?  No hair?  No wife?  No kids?  That’s probably good, trash like you probably shouldn’t breed anyway.  All the better for the rest of man.  It is Wednesday, and so it is Row Day, for an ever dwindling number of people.  The boob tube no longer serves as the medium through which The Row sends its message—and so the money has gone with it.  Word of murder and death whisper through the halls of The Row.  Men walk down halls and behind their backs word of sinking ships come to the lips of the unbelievers.

Rats abandon ship.

As The Row develops it edge, it seeks the last bastion of apparent freedom laced with little censorship: the internet.  Sure our fans may be shut-ins with secret obscene obsessions and web histories that would make anyone blush, but that aint far from the likes of Lee Best, now is it?  And besides, they are at least faithful.  The Death Row Faithful. . .  In a world of pretty people and prima madonnas, an ugly dog is a welcome companion.  For does he not show his compassion?  Does he not show his loyalty?   

There also exists however, the growing resistance, not just from the wrestling world but from the organized horse and pony show known as society.  Yes.  Middle America has taken notice of the Row, and has pulled together, fueled by some bullshit self-righteous need to ruin it for everyone else in the name of some higher power they have never met nor seen nor ever heard from personally.

If you’re watching The Row you’re either one or the other.  Either way. . .


One. . . .

Two. . . .

Three. . . .


The stream opens up with an outside shot of the auditorium, a mass of people out on the sidewalk.  They hold signs over their heads, many chanting and walking a route around the auditorium.  They shout at anyone who enters the arena, calling them ‘SINNERS,’ and telling them they are going to ‘GO TO HELL’ and other such rot.

We then cut to inside the auditorium and the first striking thing about the auditorium is that it is less than half full.  Many in the stands have signs themselves, many of them signs of protest:





There is a vibe here that is very different; the auditorium itself seems volatile.  The fans seem to be running on hate, as if the auditorium were too hot, or they all found out they just got gyped and instead of a Death Row show they're going to be revisiting some of HOW's past shows.  It's almost reminiscent of a mob scene, but it's somehow more tame and controlled. 

We then cut to a two shot of Waylon Wolf Senior and Tommy Ace, sitting at the commentators table, looking agitated.  The fans behind them are mix of Death Row faithful and protestors.  Some shout at one another, though mostly the protestors shout at Ace and Wolf.

Wolf:  No there isn't an abortion clinic nearby, these people are actually here protesting the Row! 

Ace:  You see all those protestors out there?  I’m so proud Wolf, really I am.  Never in my life have I been involved with something so outlandish and offensive it has had protestors.

Wolf:  Out there?  There are apparently a lot of them in here too.

Ace:  These assholes bought a ticket just to protest?  Doesn’t that sound—counterproductive?

Wolf:  Regardless of the facts, it seems Death Row Wrestling has offended the One Million Moms group—and apparently many others.  If you’re unfamiliar with their work they are a bunch of cows and housewives that viciously attack anything they deem un-Christian.  Now I don’t see what’s very Christian about that, but they certainly are adamant, eh Ace?

A fan behind them can be heard shouting ‘YOU’RE GOING TO BURN IN HELL.’

Ace:  You’ve got that right Wolf.  If it was Tim Ross’ mission to piss off everyone in America, he’s succeeding in that endeavor.

Wolf:  I apologize to those of you who actually came here to see a show, but we felt it necessary that we acknowledge these twits.  But without further ado, welcome to Lethal Injection Nine!  We’ve got a lot to talk about Ace. . . First of all, last Lethal Injection we crowned a new champion, in FJ Tombs.

Ace:  That’s right Wolf.  Skidd Row came in to defend his title for the first time but Tombs came prepared and managed to pull out the win.  You know I heard he had quite the welcoming party when he got home.

Wolf:  There’s no doubt about that—with lots of beers around for everybody!

Ace:  You betcha.

Wolf:  Tombs will be in action tonight, with a preview of what’s to come at CB4.  He will be taking on the number one contender, The Trailer Park Prodigy, Chance Von Crank in a non-title match.

Ace:  Well cVc has been chomping at the bit for a shot at the title ever since Skidd Row managed to squeak out a win in the four way match for the title a month ago.  When Tim Ross gave Tombs a shot at the title at the following Lethal Injection he was furious.

Wolf:  And now he’s got to face Tombs.  Tim Ross succeeded in throwing Chance a curve.  This certainly wasn’t in his plans!

Ace:  That’s for sure—ready or not he’s got a match against Tombs tonight.

Wolf:  Also in action we’ve got Skidd Row taking on Seth Stratton in his first match since losing the title.

Ace:  This is a going to be a tough one for Skidd Row.  Seth Stratton may be an ex-tennis star but he’s quickly becoming a wrestling star.  He has yet to be beaten, and his opponents haven’t been just anybody either.  He’s defeated Bobby Dean and Tarrasque.

Wolf:  What about Tye Plaisance?

Ace:  Who?

Wolf:  Well anyway, we’ve also got debut action from The Disposal, Major Kendu, Johnny Cox, Cash Money in tag team action, and Tim Ross will be in appearance as well.  Well we’ve got a busy action packed show, so lets get with it, shall we?

Ace:  Seriously though… who’s Tye Plasiance?

Wolf:  Never mind Ace.

Ace:  He must be a nobody if I don’t know who he is.

Wolf:  Let it go. . .  Now I’d like to take this time to for a product update.  Death Row Wrestling is brought to you by Tobacco Flavored Gum—all the taste of chewing tobacco without all the spitting.

Ace:  You ever seen someone blow a bubble with that stuff, Wolf?  Looks like their blowing a bubble of crude oil.

Wolf:  Product placements aside, we’ve got a great night for you tonight folks, starting off with the debut of two new wrestlers, Major Kendu and The Disposal.

Ace:  Well Major Kendu has come into this place determined to rise to the top.  He’s already called a few fellas out, but tonight he goes up against The Disposal, a former eating champ. 

Wolf:  Be careful out there Kendu!


Let Them EAT (The Disposal)

We cut to a bathroom door in the back of the auditorium.  Sounds are coming from the bathroom, mostly grunts and the sound of copious amounts of human shit splattering all over the bowl.  The camera man pushes open the door, and enters the bathroom.

The titles are cracked and were once white, though now are stained by dirt and grime and human piss.  The stale smell of urine is in the air, and the even stronger smell of fecal matter wafts through the air, and we can hear the cameraman actually gag.

The cameraman makes his way to one of the stalls, where a pair of stocky legs can be seen under the stall, a pair of tights rolled down by his ankles.

Wolf:  Well folks, we’re getting a real behind the scenes look with this one, into the inner workings of The Row.

Ace:  Is it really necessary for us to hear all that racket?!

Cameraman:  Uh… Umm excuse me?

We can hear a grunt come through the stall, followed by the sound of splashing water.

The Disposal:  Ughhh.  Uggggh... Just need me a poo ticket… uhhh.  Ughh… there we go.

We hear the toilet flush, then after a few seconds the bowl fills again and we hear yet another flush.  Then the legs bend upward, the tights go up and the door flings open.  Revealing the one and only The Dispsoal.

Wolf:  There he is The Row’s newest wrestler and former eating champ!

Ace:  This guy is disgusting.  I don’t know if I can take much more of this.

The Disposal wipes his mustache and squeezes through the stall door, his fat sides rubbing up against the sides of the stalls.

The Disposal:  Ughh…  Ugghh… You all want some advice?  Never eat chilli before a match!

The Disposal lets out a fart and waves at the air, almost proud of himself.

The Disposal:  You know, I just may like this wrestling thing.  I’m already getting fan mail, and that’s more than I got after I won that wing eating competition… and I put my life on the line that time. 

The Disposal lets out a burp.

Wolf:  Gross!

Ace:  No class Wolf!

The Disposal:  I’ve known fame before.  I’ve been a champion before.  And guess what?  It was easy.  It was no problem, like downing a dozen oysters.  No big deal, and after you feel kinda warm and funny inside.  Major Kendu. . . tonight, you have the privilege of being the first to face The Disposal. . .  You’re a tiny man.  A very small man.  I take shits bigger than you Kendu. 

The Disposal (continued):  I’m coming for you kid.  And when I’m done I’m going to Sizzler for their all you can eat buffet to celebrate. . .  Because you're a joke of a doctor, a joke of a wrestler, and even worse, a joke of a murder.  Come bury me if you can Oscar, but before you do spay some febreeze on your person--you fucking stink man!

The Disposal suddenly opens his eyes wide.

The Disposal:  YEAH!  Never eat chili before a match!

The Disposal turns and slams the door behind him, as the scene fades. . . 

Major Kendu vs. The Disposal

We cut back to the commentators table, where Waylon and Ace sit looking queasy.  Ace is turned, his hand up to his mouth as if he has just held back some vomit.  Ace swallows hard and then smiles meekly at the camera. 

Wolf:  That was pretty disgusting, I must say, Ace.

Ace:  Congratulations Disposal, you’re now responsible for the most disgusting promo in Death Row Wrestling history. 

Wolf:  His opponent tonight is none other than Major Kendu, who appeared at Lethal Injection Eight and issued an open challenge to anyone in The Row.

Ace:  Well no one has followed up on that challenge as it seems Ross has beat them all to it.  Tonight he takes on The Disposal!

Needles by System of A Down starts to play and the crowd immediately erupts into a chorus of boos.  Cheers can be heard sparsely through the crowd, but for the most part the boos drown out the cheers.

Wolf:  Well with these assholes around I’m sure this crowd is gonna boo no matter who comes out.

Ace:  ‘Cept for maybe Jesus.

Wolf:  Jesus, you think we could get Jesus?

Ace:  He’s already here, check that freak in the first row!

The camera cuts to a protester in the first row, dressed just like Jesus, complete with the crown of thorns and beard.  He seems particularly pissed at the Row and noticing he’s got some camera time he jabbers at the camera.

Wolf:  Wow.  Just wow.

Ace:  As far as Jesus imposters go I’d give him a six.  I’ve seen better.  He just doesn’t have that air of omnipotence I look for in Jesus.

Needles continues to play, as Major Kendu emerges from behind the curtain holding a bag over his shoulder. 

Wolf:  You think he’s got toys in there?

Ace:  Nope, according to Kendu it’s his bag of tricks.  Maybe he’s gonna make The Disposal disappear in that thing or something.

Wolf:  Or pull out a rabbit?

Kendu stands at the entrance and then walks down the ramp with an expectant look on his face.  He then turns around and looks behind.  He raises his arms and slows his walk to the ring.  He looks around.  He then shrugs his shoulders and makes his way to the ring.

Wolf:  The Row must really be hurting, Ace!  Kendu was expecting his pyrotechnics there but nothing went off!

Ace:  Maybe. . . we are in a recession after all. . . but I doubt that.  The rumors that The Row is low on cash are total bullshit. . .  The pyrotechnics just didn’t go off. . .  By the way, in a completely unrelated matter, did you get your check this week Wolf?

Wolf:  Not yet, Ace… Not yet.

Kendu reaches the ring, ignoring the protesters and fans around the ring.  Instead he stares at the referee and places his bag in the corner of the ring.  He then climbs into the ring through the top and middle rope, looking at the ref with a menacing look before turning and heading toward a neutral corner.

Wolf:  Look out there Mickey!  Kendu doesn’t like you. . .  Kendu staring down rookie referee Mickey O’ Conner!

Ace:  The poor kid.  All he wanted to be was a wrestler!  And now with all these protesters… I’m sure he wishes he was the last person in the ring right now.

Wolf:  That’s correct, Ace. . . fans if you don’t know Mickey O’Conner is one of the few wrestling personalities that is openly gay.  And now these bastards!  He doesn’t deserve this!

Ace:  I think their hatred runs deeper than Mickey O’Conner, Wolf.  I think they hate wrestling in general, and The Row is an easy target.

I’m Fat by Weird Al Yankovic begins to play through the arena, Weird Al fans cheering in contention with the ever present boo of the protesters.  Their boo is almost like the din of crickets: after awhile you hear them without really hearing them, their sound only background noise adding to the ambience of a room, or creek, or wherever you may be upon hearing them.

Wolf:  What a choice of music.  You a Weird Al fan, Ace?

Ace:  That fuck with the Carrot Top hair and Sandusky mustache?  Fuck no.

Wolf:  Sandusky never had a mustache.

Ace:  Well he should’ve, those guys always have mustaches.  It’s  part of the pedo uniform.

Over the music the sound of one of The Disposal’s more intimidating belches has been overlapped, and as the belch rings out through the arena, The Disposal appears from behind the curtain wearing a wrestling singlet with a decal of a drain on the front, over which the text reads THE DISPOSAL.  In each hand he holds a hotdog complete with mustard and relish, and he turns to one hotdog and eats it in two bites.  He then turns to the other hotdog and finishes it in much the same fashion.

Wolf:  My God!  Disposal just ate those two hotdogs in—what—four seconds?  Five seconds?

Ace:  Maybe a little longer than that Wolf, but that’s why they call him The Disposal!  You may not like him, you may think he’s disgusting, but you’ve got to admit—here is a man who lives up to his name!

Wolf:  That’s right, no false advertising with this one, folks.

The Disposal reaches the ring and is about to reach up for the ropes to climb up when he tilts his head up and sniffs the air just like a dog.  He turns his head and heads towards a boy in the front row holding a bag of popcorn.  The kid offers it to The Disposal and he quickly snatches it up.  He begins to eat it as he makes his way into the ring.

Wolf:  The Disposal even eating as he gets into the ring now.

Ace:  He’s always eating Wolf.  They should get this guy and Tarrasque and put em in an eating contest!  Beast vs. Disposal!

The camera cuts to our friendly Death Row ring announcer, dressed like a douche in a suit.  His hair is slicked over and he’s looking over at The Disposal with a frightened look in his eyes.  He clears his throat and begins, the protesters putting in the effort to boo over each ring announcement in an effort to ruin them.

Announcer:  Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is…

Fan (shouting):  Sinner!

Announcer:  … for one fall, and has a thirty minute time limit. . .

Fan 2 (shouting):  Judas!  You’re gonna burn!  You’re gonna burn!

Announcer:  Introducing first, from Galien, Michigan. . . .

Fan 3 (shouting):  Baby killer!

Announcer:  Weighing in at two hundred and thirty-four pounds. . . he is, Majorrrr Kennnduuuu!

A chorus of boos reigns out as Major Kendu raises his arms In the air.  He turns a full three-sixty, and looking out he can see the empty seats and the protesters, with the Death Row faithful few and far between.

Wolf:  The fans getting particularly rowdy here at the start of the match.  They seem adamant on…

We cut to a two shot of Wolf and Ace and we can see a fan in the first row swatting Wolf with his JESUS SAVES sign.  Wolf turns and starts yelling at the man with the microphone raised up over his head so it won’t pick up what he’s saying.  He’s still yelling as he sits down and lowers the headset microphone piece.

Wolf:  Yah god-damn-son-of-a. . . As I was saying, fans particularly rowdy here tonight.

Ace:  Jesus Christ these One Million Moms people are worst than Native New Yorkers!  Madison Square Garden was a picnic compared to this!

The announcer looks around wearily, and as The Disposal lets out a belch the announcer turns and pinches his nose.  He then moves to a neutral corner before continuing with the next announcement.

Announcer:  And his opponent. . . from Tempe Arizona, weighing in at three hundred and eighty-five pounds, he is The King of The All You Can Eat Buffet and 10 Time Bean And Cheese Burrito Eating Champion. . . . The Dissspoooossssaaalllll!

The Disposal lets out a massive belch and raises his arms over his head, and for the first time you notice he’s still got remnants of hotdog sticking to his mustache.  The crowd lets out yet another chorus of boos, with people shouting FAT and PORKY, etc.

Wolf:  Well this match is about under way, but the question is, who do you like in this one Ace?

Ace:  I just don’t see Kendu lifting The Disposal.  As I stated before, look out Kendu, DISPOSAL’S GONNA EAT YOU!

The bell rings and the match officially starts.

Wolf:  There’s the bell and were off ladies and gentlemen… let’s show these protesting bastards a thing or too!

Ace:  HELL yeah.

The ref, Mickey O’Conner signals for both wrestlers to have at it with a gesture that consists of stretching his arms outward and then bringing them together with a slap of the hands.  Both men then circle around one another, the protesters still enraged enough to keep up with the booing.

Wolf:  Both men feeling one another out here, neither one wanting to start off too quick.  Both men now engaging in their first match here in The Row. 

Ace:  Yep, if there weren’t about 2 thousand people here booing their heads off and asking for blood, I’d say there’d be butterflies in the stomachs of both these guys.  In the case of The Disposal there’s probably a whole lot more in that belly of his than just butterflies.

Kendu charges The Disposal with a shoulder block, but the shoulder block doesn’t knock The Disposal down, if anything it sends Kendu back a few steps.  The Disposal lets out a laugh, and enraged by this Kendu reaches back and hits him across the chest with a chop.

Wolf:  Well he couldn’t knock him down so now he’s trying to chop him down to the mat!

Kendu gives him another chop, and yet another and then Disposal looks down and sees a red substance staining his white singlet.

Wolf:  What is this!  Is The Disposal bleeding from those chops already?

Ace:  Maybe, they sure sounded vicious enough.

The Disposal takes his finger and runs it through the red substance, and then brings it to his mouth for a taste.

Wolf:  The Disposal is tasting his own blood!  He’ll taste anything!

Ace:  No Wolf!  That’s not blood. . . that’s jelly!  Kendu just destroyed The Disposal’s jelly donut!

The Disposal pulls out the jelly donut in question and looks at it first with surprise, as he had no idea he had a jelly donut in his wrestling singlet, and then with anger, anger at Kendu for destroying an innocent delicacy.

Wolf:  You’re right Ace, and The Disposal is pissed!

Ace:  Whatever you do, don’t get between this man and his food!

The Disposal grabs Kendu by the hair and then head butts him, knocking him straight to the mat.  He then runs off the ropes and leaps up in the air (a whole two inches) and comes down with a body splash, but Kendu rolls out of the way and out of the ring.

Wolf:  Thank God!  Kendu almost got squished by The Disposal there!

Ace:  Yeah, he’s going to have to figure out how to take this fat man off his feet.  Perhaps he’s got something in that bag of tricks of his?

The Disposal gloats in the ring.  Outside, a group of protesters that have managed to get close to the ring start yelling at Kendu but he quickly turns and grabs one of their signs and snaps the shitty plywood handle over his knee.

Wolf:  Well that’s one way to piss them off.

Ace:  Yeah nice job Kendu, what are you trying to do, start a riot?

Wolf:  Shhh Ace, don’t give these swine any ideas!

Kendu slides into the ring and immediately charges The Disposals knee, and positioning around to behind The Disposal he reaches up and hits him with a low blow.

Wolf:  Low blow by Kendu! 

Micky O’Conner gets in Kendu’s face but Kendu gives him a glare and Mickey stops himself.

Wolf:  Don’t let him boss you around, Mickey!

Kendu then gets up and hooks The Disposal’s head and DDTs him to the mat.  The Disposal hits the mat with a loud thud, louder than your average ‘healthy’ sized wrestler.  The crowd gives a mild pop in response to the bump.

Wolf:  Super-sized DDT from Kendu, and The Disposal is down and on the mat.

Ace:  I think even some of these Million Mom cows liked that one, Wolf.

Kendu then drops to his knees and lifts The Disposal to the seated position, wrapping his arm around his head, his forearm across The Disposals throat.  Kendu then wrenches back, his forearm cutting into The Disposals windpipe, making it difficult for him to breathe.

Wolf:  Kendu applying the rear headlock here.  It’s a wonder he can even get that arm wrapped around that fat neck of The Disposal.

Ace:  Yeah, Kendu may think he’s doing something, but something tells me to the Disposal it feels much like tickling.  You see the gobbler this guy has got?

Mickey O’Conner gets down to check on The Disposal.  He asks him if he would like to quit.  The Disposal shakes his head and a burp escapes from his stomach and worms its way out his mouth, the smell of which is enough to make Mickey take a few steps back and Kendu to break the hold in an effort to get away from it.

Wolf:  Well… The Disposal breaks the hold… I guess, with a disgusting burp.

Ace:  Imagine that stomach, churning all those flavors together into a bile ridden stew. . . The smell must be intoxicating, if not halucogenic!

Kendu staggers back from the stench then recovers and quickly descends upon The Disposal.  He hooks his arm around The Disposal’s throat and then with his off hand begins punching him in the face.

Wolf:  Kendu working away at The Disposal’s face here.

Ace:  Well, Kendu’s style is that of a brawler, and The Disposal’s style is, well uh, fat… just fat.

Kendu punches the Disposal in the face once, twice, three times, before running off the ropes for momentum and then dropkicking The Disposal in the back of the head as he returns.  He then scrambles over to The Disposal and climbs his massive belly for the pin.

Wolf:  We’ve got a pin here from Kendu. . .

Ace:  He had to climb up the fatty!

Wolf:  1. . . 2. . . kickout!  Disposal kicks out of it.

Kendu gets to his feet and checks with O’Conner for the count.  He sees the referee extend two fingers and grunts.  The Disposal too gets to his feet and Kendu reaches up and gouges his eye.  The Disposal reaches up to sell the eye gouge, leaning toward the ropes.

Wolf:  Eye gouge to the fat man!

Ace:  Kendu just may strike his way through this match.  The key is to keep the massive weight of The Disposal off of you.

Wolf:  I wouldn’t want this guy landing on me, that’s for sure. 

Kendu taunts the crowd before grabbing The Disposals arm and Irish whipping him into the ropes.  The Disposal reverses the Irish Whip sending Kendu into the ropes instead.  Kendu returns and he leaps up as the Disposal bends downward, and the Disposal bends back up at the waist, catching Kendu on his shoulders.

Wolf:  Kendu caught on the Disposal’s shoulders now!  This is a precarious position to be indeed!

Ace:  Remember what I was saying earlier?  About keeping the massive weight of The Disposal off of you. . . that’ll come in handy here.

The Disposal lets out a grunt and falls backward, slamming Kendu to the mat behind him, The Disposals upper body coming down on him.

Wolf:  Samoan drop by The Disposal!  Did you hear the mat with that one?!

Ace:  Sounds like we’ve got a damn elephant in the ring!

The Disposal then gets up, slow and lumbering, already breathing heavily, and makes his way to the ropes.  He bounces off of them for momentum then jumps into the air and comes down of Kendu with a body splash.  The crowd pops.

Wolf:  Three hundred and fifty plus pounds just came down on Kendu! 

The Disposal refuses to move, if out of exhaustion more than anything else and Mickey O’Conner slides to the mat to go for the count.

Wolf:  Conner is down for the count!  1. . . 2. . . NO!  Somehow!  Some way!  Kendu kicked out of the splash!

Ace:  I can’t believe it Wolf.  I can’t believe what I am seeing.  How is that physically possible?

Wolf:  I don’t think it is!  Kendu pulled a miracle out of his ass!

The Disposal rolls over on his back, breathing heavily.  Kendu rolls out of the ring and falls outside of it, not getting up.  The referee looks around and starts making the count.  1. . . 2. . . 3. . .

Wolf:  Both men down after that body splash!

Ace:  Yeah, The Disposal may be an eating champion, but this is a lot more tiring than eating an ungodly amount of food!

Wolf:  He’s gobbling up air right now Ace!

Kendu gets to his feet outside, grabbing his chest and breathing in large gulps as if to see if his lungs still work.  4. . . 5. . . The Disposal gets to his feet and lumbers over to the ropes, and as he bends down to get through the ropes Kendu reaches up and pulls downward on The Disposal’s head, bringing his throat up against the ropes.  The Disposal falls backward and Kendu slides in after him.

Wolf:  Kendu in the ring now after bringing The Disposal down on the ropes.

Ace:  Kendu has been working The Disposal’s neck for so long the guy must be worried if he’ll ever be able to swallow food with the veracity he’s had in the past.  This could be a damaging would to The Disposal’s ego, much like a pulled groin or a shattered nut.

Wolf:  Strange analogy there Ace, but I see what you’re saying. . .

Kendu measures a fallen Disposal, who’s now in the seated position and steps forward, kicking The Disposal in the spine.  The Disposal sells the spine kick, his arms bent back behind him, his face twisted into one of pain. 

Wolf:  Spine kick by Kendu.

Ace:  Spine kick?  How can we be certain he made contact with all that fat back there protecting it?

Wolf:  Back fat kick then, you happy?

Ace:  Yeah, back fat kick!

Kendu then sits atop the chest of the fallen The Disposal, and begins raining down lefts and rights to the face of The Disposal, each blow causing ripples of fat through The Disposal’s cheeks.

Wolf:  Kendu wailing on the Disposal now with lefts and rights!

Ace:  He looks like a kid sitting up there on that mass of human flesh!

Kendu then gets up and runs off the ropes for momentum, and as he returns he jumps up into the air and comes down elbow first on The Disposal’s forehead.  He then scrambles over to The Disposal and goes for the pin.  Mickey O’Conner hits the mat to make the count.

Wolf:  We’ve got a pin here by Kendu—this could be it!  1. . . 2. . . no!  Kick out by The Disposal!

Ace:  Fatty still has some left in the tank!

Kendu gets up frustrated, checking the count with Mickey O’Conner.  Mickey insists it was only a two count and with a grunt Kendu turns to The Disposal and brings him to his feet.  He then hits him with a left, then a right, and then The Disposal shakes his head and headbutts Kendu to the mat.

Wolf:  Massive head butt by The Disposal!  And Kendu is down!

Ace:  You know those head butts probably don’t even hurt The Disposal.  His skulls got a lot of extra… padding.

The Disposal lets out a massive burp in between heavy gulps of air and taunts the crowd.  The protesters let out a massive boo that The Disposal ignores.  He turns to Kendu and then raises his fat arms, bringing them together against Kendu’s ears.  Kendu reaches up grabbing his ears, selling the blow.

Wolf:  Fatty slap by The Disposal!

Ace:  And Kendu’s ears are ringing!  That sort of thing will knock you off your equilibrium, Wolf!

Wolf:  I struggle with that all the time myself!

Ace:  Of course you do, you’re old.

Kendu staggers back, still grabbing his head as The Disposal charges him and knocks him to the mat with a clothesline.

Wolf:  Clothesline by The Disposal now!  Kendu’s up again!

Kendu gets up and charges The Disposal and again The Disposal drops him to the mat with a clothesline.  The Disposal then jumps into the air and raises his leg, dropping across the throat of Kendu.

Wolf:  Fatty leg drop!

Ace:  That’s about one hundred and eighty pounds of leg coming down on you!  Look at Kendu!  He’s down!

Kendu rolls over onto his belly and crawls slowly to the ropes.  The Disposal gets up slowly himself and leans up against the ropes in an effort to catch his breath.  Kendu slowly gets up and The Disposal walks toward him.  As he reaches him The Disposal tosses Kendu into the turnbuckle.

Wolf:  Kendu in the corner now.  And he’s gonna wanna get out of there if The Disposal is going to do what I think he’s about to do.

Ace:  Imagine that fatty running at you full speed.  He can’t run fast but all that fat jiggling and man titty flopping sure is mesmerizing.  One kinda gets that deer in the headlights look.

The Disposal lets out a roar and charges Kendu but as he reaches him Kendu moves out of the way and The Disposal hits the turnbuckle face first.  The Disposal turns out of it grabbing his face, and then tries to knock Kendu to the mat with a clothesline but Kendu ducks it, and The Disposal clotheslines Mickey O Conner instead.

Wolf:  Irishman down!  Irishman down!  The Disposal tried to clothesline Kendu but Kendu ducked it and The Disposal took out the referee instead!

Ace:  Well what now?

The Disposal checks on Mickey trying to shake him to wake him up but Mickey sells the clothesline.  Kendu then charges the Disposal from behind and dropkicks his bulbous ass sending The Disposal face first into the turnbuckle.

Wolf:  Dropkick to The Disposal!

Ace:  Kendu had a huge target with that one!  Hey what’s he doing now!

Kendu heads to the corner and grabs his bag of tricks.  He looks around at the crowd and then opens it, looking inside.

Wolf:  His bag of tricks!  His bag of tricks!

Ace:  I guess we’re finally gonna see what’s in that thing.

Kendu drops his head inside the bag, and after a few seconds of searching he pulls out a tazer.  He lifts it up in the air and turns it on to show the crowd the electricity sparking out of the end of it.

Wolf:  He’s got. . . he’s got a tazer!

Ace:  Well when you’re fighting a cow, you’ve got to treat em like a cow.

The Disposal gets up out of the corner and charges Kendu, who thrusts the tazer into The Disposals belly.  The Disposal sells the tazer, perhaps too much, his body shaking and his eyes bulging as he falls to the mat.  He convulses there on the mat for a bit before Kendu goes for the cover.

Wolf:  Kendu with the cover after using that weapon!

Ace:  But Mickey is still down!

Mickey O’ Conner slowly stirs, and gets to his knees shaking his head.  He then turns and sees the pin in the ring and immediately goes for the count.

Wolf:  Mickey sees the pin!  Here we go!  1. . . 2. . . 3!!!  Kendu wins it!

Ace:  Kendu wins it after the use of that tazer!

The bell rings as the protesters in the crowd let out a massive boo.  By now they are even stronger in their conviction: any establishment that willing allows its employees to tase one another is no product of God indeed.  The referee grabs Kendu’s arm and raises it in the air.

Announcer:  Here is your winner by pinfall. . . . Majjjooooorrr Kenduuu!

Kendu goes to his bag of tricks and raises it up in the air.

Wolf:  And there it is, the sole reason he won this match.

Ace:  Well what can you do?  With a guy like The Disposal, how are you gonna lift him?  You’ve got to chop him down.

Wolf:  And taze him?

Ace:  If necessary. . . yes!

The Guest List

We cut to the outside the Charleston Civic Center, where The One Million Mom’s are still gathered on the sidewalks, parading up and down the sidewalk with their signs of protest raised.   The women seem to be stuck on a loop, not really paying much attention to anything other than their hate, but then a silver Dodge Challenger pulls up in camera view.  The car squeals to a halt, the engine powers down and the driver door opens, and The One Million Mom’s try to make their way to the car, but a few security members make their way to the car and hold them back.   From out the car we see the bald head of Ian Michaels as he stands up and stretches his arms out.  He sees the smaller of the two security guards, and tosses him the keys.

Ian Michaels:   Park for me, and don't get a single smudge on the leather nor a single scratch on the body!

Security:  But I am no...

Ian Michaels:  Just do as you are told kid, and park the damn car.  I have no time to stand here and debate with you over some command I gave you!  NOW BE GONE BITCH!

The security guy looks at his partner, who seems to have scooped up two of The One Million Mom’s up in his arms, and shrugs.  Ian walks up to one of the side doors to the arena, where yet another member of the security crew guards the door, and removes his sunglasses and hangs them around his shirt collar.

Ian Michaels:  Name is Hate, and making people bleed is my game.  So if you would not mind, move your hefty ass to the side and let me in!

The doorman looks at his clipboard and shakes his head.

Doorman:  Sorry sir, but your name is not on this list.  In case you didn’t notice, there are a bunch of protesters around. . .  Give me a minute to contact head of security and see about your status.

Ian looks at the man with an annoying look coming across his brow.

Doorman:  Hey boss, there is a mister Ian Michaels who wants in, but his name is not on the list.

You can see the man holding his ear piece to listen very closely to his boss.  He nods his head and drops his hand.

Doorman:  Sorry for the delay sir, we had to get clearance from someone above my pay scale.

Ian Michaels:  Okay tubby, now step to the side and let me in.

The doorman puts his arm out in front of Ian, stopping him from his progress of getting in.

Doorman:  Sadly sir, you are not allowed in the building tonight, per the order of the man running the show, a mister Ross?  So I am going to ask you to go find your car and just head home before I have the local police escort you away in a cop car!

Ian shakes his head, and throws up his arms in the air.  He starts to back off, as he turns to notice his car is not behind him anymore.

Ian Michaels:  Any clue where that skinny kid headed to with my car?

The doorman turns to his right and points and Ian nails him with a mafia kick to the face slamming the side of the doorman's head into the steel door.  As the man falls, and the clip lands in the ground, Ian reaches down and grabs his ink pen and the clipboard.  He starts to write and tosses both back on the big man's back.

Ian Michaels:  You need fucking glasses, my name is on the list.  When you wake the fuck up, take another glance fat boy!

Ian spits on the man and with his foot shoves him away from the door.  He grabs the handle and looks around as he swings it open and enters inside.  A group of One Million Mom’s ascend upon the door, but it closes before they can get to it.

WolfDid you see that man?

AceIM Hate is now in the building, even when Tim Ross has attempted to keep him out!

Wolf I have a feeling someone is leaving via police or ambulance tonight!

AceMaybe it will be that worthless champion of ours, FJ Tombs!


Our internet coverage of Lethal Injection IX returns to find the largest group of sexually depraved women in America, One Million Moms, circling around near the ‘picket line’ with signs held high and sticks shoved perfectly in place up their assholes. The chant begins to pick up steam and is finally able to be heard loud and clear.


This continues to go on to the point when you, the internet viewer, become pissed at the length of coverage and decide that getting shitfaced will be the only way to tolerate this much longer. That is, before a short, stocky fellow strolls into view. The real intriguing part is he joins the mob of women and seems to be celebrating his newfound posse of puss. Wearing a white, green, and red lucha mask, he dons a tight white ‘Yo Soy Mariguano’ t-shirt, freshly crafted with colored markers, and a pair of blue jeans with brown, worn cowboy boots, we can only guess that this is Death Row’s latest addition.

Mother from Utah: Hey! This guy’s not doing the chant right!

Mariguano: ¿Es esta la fiesta de bienvenida DRW?

Mother from Utah: Now he’s swearing at me in the gardener’s language!

Mother from Connecticut: He supports the sinners!

Mothers from Utah & Connecticut: Cut off his dick!

Mariguano: No, not señor plátano!

Mariguano’s eyes pop from his head in fear. He scrambles left. He scrambles right. He resorts to his training from Patches O’Houlihan and dodges, dips, dives, ducks, and dodges around the swinging signs and arms trying to turn him into minced meat. The only opening he sees is at the front of the line.

Mariguano: I pray to de sweet baby Jesus…

He acts like any other man in this situation, and cleans the clock of a nearby Christian nazi and performs a roundhouse kick that takes out Girl Scout Troop #46, all wearing anti-DRW pins on their sashes. He spots the large fat girl with lesbian features down on all fours and plants his foot square in the middle of her back, using her as a launching pad over the swarm of bitches below. El Misterioso takes flight with arms out wide and legs together in perfect form. As he near the front, he tucks his head and rolls to a single knee just before the steel barrier. 

Mother from Russia: Get ze little Mexican! Don’t let him get in-

A fist finishes her sentence for her as Mariguano pops up and looks at the soon-to-be riot behind him. The Russian Mother cups her hand below her mouth and out pop two little teeth. He grimaces at the baby sized teeth and remembers what he was about to do next. He mounts the barrier, facing the crowd, and performs a jerking off motion.

Mariguano: ¡Viva el DRW!

The luchador performs a perfect dismount with a backflip that scores 10.0’s from all the judges. As if this is scripted, which wrestling most definitely is not, Mariguana lands facing the angry mob of lesbians and midol-needing women. From his pocket, he pulls out a metal tube, which produces a long, brown cigar. He lights it. The smoke, the flavor, and the affect is not that of tobacco though. It is of Mother Nature’s finest herb from the heartlands of Heaven. A cough from nearby draws his attention to the woman standing next to him that also happens to be the lead interviewer, Charlene.

Mariguano: Perdón, mamacita.

He strolls off to find his seat with the stolen ticket from that Russian Mother as the scene cuts back to the action.

Cash Money vs. Tha Krew

Wolf:  Well up next we’ve got tag team action for you folks.  These guys made an appearance at Lethal Injection Eight and took care of The H-Town Hustlas.

Ace:  Cashhhhh Money.

Wolf:  That’s right Ace, Cash Money, who as of late have taken to naming themselves the tag team champions, and have even had their own belts fashioned.

Ace:  I think they’re nice—the belts I mean.  Hey if you wanna be a champion, why not just make up a belt?!

Wolf:  These guys are certainly arrogant, but tonight they take on Tim Ross’s enforcers: Tha Krew.

It Gets Me Through by Ozzy Osbourne begins to play, the protesters immediately rising to boo.  Jesus in the first row can be seen booing and pointing his thumbs downward: Jesus does not approve.  The protesters signs flail through the crowd, and far back sitting by himself, surrounded by a bunch of empty rows a Death Row fan raises up a sign that reads ‘HI MOM.’

Wolf:  That guy loves his mother.

Ace:  What an idiot.  You’d think some of these guys would be a little more creative.  And what is he sitting up there all by himself for, why doesn’t he come closer?

Wolf:  He’s sitting in the seat he bought. . .

Ace:  Aww come on don’t tell me you don’t move up if you’re at a ball game and everyone has already gone home or its far enough in you know no one is gonna sit in em. . .

Wolf:  Nope, I don’t.

The lights dim and Ozzy starts singing, the boos continuing to rain out.  Shane Jackson and Jason Cruz come out from behind the curtain, both dressed in fine suits.  Each member of Cash Money holds a belt, one they fashioned themselves, as they believe themselves to be the best tag team in the federation.

Ace:  Look at those suits Wolf.  These guys are rolling on the dough.

Wolf:  Well. . . we sure could use some. . .   Cash Money showing off their new belts, not that they mean anything to anyone other than themselves, but yes—there they are folks. The Arrogant Ass belts!

Ace:  I kinda like the way they think.  I think I’m gonna make a commentators belt and appear next Lethal Injection as the Commentating Champion of The Row.

Wolf:  What makes you think the title wouldn’t be mine?

Shane Jackson and Jason Cruz strip out of their suits and make their way down the ramp.  When they reach the ring they hand off their suits and then climb up into the ring, Shane first, followed by Jason Cruz.

Wolf:  As we stated before, these guys had an impressive debut win against The H-Town Hustlas last week, but they’ve got a much taller order in Tha Krew.

Ace:  Tha Krew have been hired to inflict pain.  Inflicting pain is their business, and tonight they mean business—expect Tha Krew to come out hot tonight.  I don’t know if Cash Money is going to be able to come out of this one with a win.

Wolf:  Well they sure are gonna try.

As Shane and Jason get in the ring they raise their belts in the air to a mild pop from the Death Row Faithful and a chorus of boos from the protesters.  Jesus in the front row appears particularly agitated.

Wolf:  Tha Krew is set to appear next Ace.

Ace:  The baddest mother fuckers in the Row. . .

2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted, by Tupac (featuring Snoop Dogg) starts up and the boos continue to rain out.  The One Million Moms can be seen holding their heads, trying to cover their ears in an effort to block out all this ‘horrible rap music.’  The mustaches on their upper lips quiver as they let out BOO after BOO after BOO.

Wolf:  The protesters showing their distaste for this particular genre of the music, more than Tha Krew I think.

Ace:  Well Tha Krew hasn’t come out yet, Wolf.  So how could they—

Leon Williams and Wes Payton emerge from behind the curtain, Leon Williams playing with his afro and Wes Payton looking hard, as if chiseled out of stone.  Wes Payton quickly removes his sunglasses and we see a pair of cold, staring eyes, staring straight down at the ring.

Wolf:  What a look from Wes Payton!

Ace:  No wonder he wears sunglasses all the time!  If looks could kill Cash Money would be dead right now!

The cameraman draws close to Wes but Wes bats him out of the way and makes his way down the ramp, Leon following behind still futzing with his beloved afro.  They ignore the protesters on each side of the ramp, leaning over the barricade to better spew their hate, and as Tha Krew reaches the ring Wes Payton jumps up on the apron and climbs in through the ropes.  Leon Williams climbs up the steps and climbs through the top and middle rope after Wes.

Wolf:  Tha Krew a formidable opponent tonight—do I have to say ‘Tha’ every time?  Is ‘The’ Sufficient?

Ace:  And I suppose next you’re gonna say Krew is spelled with a ‘C’, eh Wolf?

Wolf:  Well. . . it is. . .

Ace:  There you go already!

Wes Payton looks across at Shane Jackson, not moving as Leon Williams hops about behind him, trash talking over Wes’ shoulder at both Shane Jackson and Jason Cruz.

Wolf:  Wes Payton not much of the talker…

Ace:  That’s what Leon Williams is for!

The boos continue from the protesters as the announcer climbs into the ring.  The announcer pulls on the cuff of his jacket while looking at Shane, as if to thank him for buying him a new suit.

Wolf:  These guys got money to burn.  They even bought that idiot announcer a new suit!

Ace:  I want a new suit!

Announcer:  Ladies and gentlemen. . .


Announcer:  . . . the following match is for one fall, and has a thirty minute time limit. . . .


Announcer:  Introducing first, from Ft. Wayne, Indiana, weighing in at a combined weight of five hundred and thirty pounds, they are Shane Jackson and Jason Cruz. . . Cassssshhhh Monnneeey!!!

Shane Jackson and Jason Cruz raise their belts over their heads, as a JESUS SAVES chant starts up.


Wolf:  Cash Money not stirring the protesters here tonight.  They’re still going on, Ace!

Ace:  These people aren’t going to cheer for anything.  That much is obvious.  It’s best not just to care anymore.  Fuck em.

Announcer:  And their opponents. . . from New York, New York, weighing in at a combined weight of four hundred and ninety eight pounds, they are Wes Payton and Leon Williams. . . . Thhhaaaa Kreeeewwww!

Wes Payton remains stone still, as Leon Williams hops about the ring, stopping as he reaches a corner and jumping up to run an afro pick through his hair.  Wes Payton then directs Leon Williams out of the ring and he obeys, climbing out onto the edge of the apron and walking toward their neutral corner.  Jason Cruz climbs out of the ring and does the same, as the bell rings.

Wolf:  Well we’re off ladies and gentlemen!  The first and only tag match of the night!

Ace:  All these men in the ring are going to put on a show, I can guarantee you that Wolf.

Shane Jackson circles around Wes Payton, and Wes Payton stands still in the ring, turning only to keep Shane Jackson from getting behind him.  The protesters continue to boo in the crowd, their signs bobbing up and down as they start up a chant. 

Wolf:  Both men feeling one another out here.  Wes moving slow and calculated.

Ace:  Just eyeing his prey, Wolf, just eyeing his prey.

Shane Jackson and Wes Payton lock up in the center of the ring both men struggling to gain the upper hand.  Wes Payton moves back to the ropes and raises his arms up in the air and Shane Jackson slowly backs away.  Shane then turns and makes his way to the other side of the ring before letting out a ‘CASH MONEY!’  The protesters boo.

Wolf:  Shane Jackson saying Cash Money there… and apparently the protesters didn’t like it much…

Ace:  Can we get some action already?

Wes Payton stands still, breathing visibly as Shane Jackson turns around.  Both men then lock up in the center of the ring, and Wes Payton quickly gains the upper hand, grabbing Shane Jackson by the arm and twisting it.

Wolf:  Wrist lock here by Wes Payton, he’s got the upper hand.

Ace:  Wes Payton is deceptive.  He can wrestle, he can bust your teeth in, he can do it all.  You’ve got to watch his feet and his hands, I think this guy knows some karate.

Wolf:  Just one of his many talents, including looking just like Wesley Snipes in Blade.

Wes Payton then lifts Shanes arm up over his head and turning wrenches Shane’s arm again, keeping the hold on his wrist.  Shane sells the wrist lock then grabs Wes Payton by the arm and turns, wrenching his arm.

Wolf:  Shane with the upper hand here…

Ace:  Nope!  Look at Wes!

Wes Payton rolls out of it, ending up on his back, then kips himself upward to his feet and then wrenches Shane’s arm and then bends at the knee and kicks Shane in the back of the head with a heel kick. Shane tumbles to the mat and Wes Payton hops up and down after the kick, adjusting the tape on his wrists.

Wolf:  Impressive kick by Wes Payton there!

Ace:  I told you he knows karate! 

Wolf:  Whether a product of karate or not, Seth Jackson just took a wallop behind the ear!

Wes Payton taunts the protesters as Shane slowly gets to his feet.  Wes Payton helps him the rest of the way with a hair pull and Wes reaches back and hits Shane in the face with a right.  The blow knocks him back against the ropes and Wes grabs him, pushing Shane up against the ropes before Irish whipping him to the opposite side of the ring.

Wolf:  Irish whip by Wes Payton.  There goes Shane.

Shane returns off the ropes and Wes Payton goes for a clothesline, but Shane ducks it.

Wolf:  Clothesline—no!  Shane ducks it!

Shane continues to run and bounces off the ropes and as he returns Wes Payton turns and goes for yet another clothesline, which Shane ducks yet again.

Wolf:  Another attempted clothesline, another duck!

Ace:  This guy is fast, Wolf!

Shane bounces off the ropes a third time and as he returns he knocks Wes to the mat with a lariat.  The Death Row Faithful let out a cheer that hovers just above the drone of the booing protesters.

Wolf:  Shane Jackson gains the upper hand, and Wes Payton is on the mat.

Ace:  Did you see him flying, he looked like a helicopter tumbling through the air there.

Wolf:  What an image, Ace, what an image.  A tumbling helicopter.

Ace:  That’s what I do, Wolf.

Shane quickly yells out CASH MONEY before going over to Wes Payton and bringing him to his feet.  Shane quickly powerslams Wes Payton to the mat and then runs off the ropes and as he returns jumps up into the air and comes down with an elbow drop across the chest of Wes Payton.

Wolf:  Shane Jackson is in control!

Ace:  That elbow drop was placed perfectly right across the chest of Wes Payton.  And did you see the air Shane Jackson got with that one?

Wolf:  I sure did, this Shane Jackson sure is athletic.  Those belts of theirs might not be honored by The Row, but if we ever do get tag belts, these guys are sure to be up there at the top.

Wes Payton sits up after the elbow drop, selling it, but Shane quickly pushes his back to the mat and goes for the pin.  Frank Knox hits the mat and goes for the count.

Wolf:  We’ve got a quick pin here by Shane Jackson of Cash Money!  1. . . kick out!  Only one there.

Frank Knox rises to his feet and holds up his arms, signaling it was only a one count.  Shane Jackson then picks up Wes Payton and hooks him under his arm before directing him toward Cash Money’s neutral corner.  Shane extends his off hand and Jason slaps it, tagging himself in.

Wolf:  Jason Cruz in the ring now after that tag.

Ace:  Remember kids, safety first, then teamwork!

Shane Jackson then drags Wes Payton up against the ropes and Jason Cruz joins him.  They then both Irish whip Wes Payton into the ropes and as he returns, both Jason Cruz and Shane Jackson raise an elbow, both knocking Wes Payton in the face at the same time and knocking him to the mat.

Wolf:  Cash Money working together here, Ace.  It’s this type of work that got them through their match with The H-Town Hustlas.

Ace:  These guys know each other well.  They’ve hated each other, and now they are good friends.  They’ve been through ups, they’ve been through downs.  A team like that is formidable opponent, I don’t care who you are.

Wolf:  Very good point, Ace.

Ace:  Those are the only kind I make. . .

Shane Jackson climbs out of the ring as Jason Cruz quickly drops to his knees and hooks Wes Payton’s leg for the pin.

Wolf:  We’ve got a pin!  1. . . 2. . . kick out!  Wes Payton is down but he is not out!

Ace:  This is just another day for Wes Payton!

Jason Cruz gets up as the ref signals the two count with two extended fingers, and quickly brings Wes Payton to his feet, but as he does Wes Payton reaches up and rakes him in the eye.

Wolf:  Wes Payton with the eye rake, and Shane never saw it coming.

Ace:  They never do, Wolf, and that’s why it’s such a simple yet effective move.

Wes Payton then grabs Jason Cruz and pulls him toward Tha Krew’s corner, and tags in his partner Leon Williams.

Wolf:  Here comes afro loving Leon Williams.

Ace:  You know this guy spends more time futzing with his hair than some women. 

Wolf:  You’re one to talk Ace, I’ve seen you in the back.  You stare at yourself for a long time…

Ace:  You would too if you looked this good.

Leon Williams enters the ring and Wes Payton hooks both of Jason’s arms, holding them behind him.  Leon Williams laughs, sizes up Jason and kicks him in the gut.  Jason bends over from the blow and Wes Payton punches him the back, and Leon Williams joins in, punching Jason at the same time in the side. 

Wolf:  Both men wailing on Jason Cruz now!  Come on ref!  Break it up!

Ace:  That’s smart fighting Wolf!  What are you complaining about?!

Wolf:  It’s two on one!

Ace:  That’s the point!

Frank Knox separates Wes Payton and Wes grudgingly climbs out of the ring and stands on the apron.  Leon Williams meanwhile continues punching Jason Cruz with lefts and rights, working him into the corner.  Leon Williams then unloads, chopping downward on Jason Cruz with repeated rights.

Wolf:  Leon Williams is going crazy here, just raining down punches on Jason Cruz.

Ace:  And Cruz is stuck in the corner.  He has nowhere to go!  He’s trapped!

Jason falls to the mat and as he does Leon switches to stomps, and starts stomping Jason mercilessly in the corner.  The beating only stops when Frank Knox interferes and orders Leon Williams to the opposite corner.  Jason lies in the corner of the ring as Leon Williams get into it, exchanging words with Frank Knox.

Wolf:  That’s right Knox!  Hold the line there buddy.  Veteran official Frank Knox getting into it with Leon Williams now.

Ace:  Whatever you do Knox, don’t touch his hair!  He’ll kill you.

Wolf:  You’re probably right about that Ace. 

Leon Williams then goes back to Jason Cruz, who’s now on his feet in the corner.  Leon Williams then pushes Jason up against the turnbuckle before Irish whipping him into the opposite corner.  Jason lands with a thud in the corner, and Leon charges him, his right hand raised over his head.  Jason Cruz slides out of the way just as Leon comes down and Leon ends up punching the turnbuckle.

Wolf:  Leon Williams comes up empty as Jason Cruz moves out of the way!

Ace:  Jason saw it coming and was quick enough to get out of the way Wolf. 

Wolf:  Thanks for reiterating what I already said, Ace.

Ace:  Anytime pal, anytime!

Leon turns around and Jason takes his turn this time, stomping Leon in the corner of the ring.  Jason stomps him several times before hooking Leon under his arm and suplexing him into the center of the ring.

Wolf:  Massive suplex by Jason Cruz.  You like that one Ace?

Ace:  I’d give it about a 9.  There was a slight hitch I noticed, but that’s it.

Wolf:  Hitch?  What hitch?  You’re crazy!

Jason gets up and taunts the crowd as Leon sells the suplex, reaching back grabbing the small of his back with a look of pain on his face.  Jason then picks up Leon Williams, wrenches his arm and then directs him toward the Cash Money corner, extending his off hand for the tag.  Shane Jackson makes the tag and enters the ring.

Wolf:  Another tag from Cash Money, getting the fresh man in.

Ace:  Shane Jackson is ready to do some damage now.  He’s had time to rest up and his opponent Leon Williams has been knocked around a bit already.

Both men then direct Leon Williams up against the rope and both Shane Jackson and Jason Cruz Irish whip Leon Williams into the ropes, and as he returns Cash Money collectively clotheslines him to the mat.

Wolf:  Nice move by both members of Cash Money.

Ace:  They’re working well together tonight, Wolf.  This could spell bad news for Tha Krew.

Shane Jackson then drops to his knees and goes for the cover.

Wolf:  Pin by Shane Jackson!  1. . . 2. . . kick out!

Ace:  Leon Williams is still in this one Wolf.  He’s got to make the tag though if Tha Krew wants to have a chance in this one.

Wolf:  That’s right Ace, it’s always important to get the fresh man in.

Shane Jackson slowly gets up as referee Frank Knox illustrates the two count, extending two fingers.  Shane Jackson lets out a breath of air and brings Leon Williams to his feet but Leon Williams rises and quickly eye gouges Shane Jackson in the eye.

Wolf:  Yet another eye gouge from a member of Tha Krew!

Ace:  What can I say, you do what works!  And the eyes are virtually unprotected!

Shane Jackson makes his way to the corner of the ring, shaking his head and reaching up toward his eyes.  Leon Williams then grabs Shane from behind and slams him face first into the turnbuckle.  Leon then grabs Shane by the hair and drags him to Tha Krew’s corner and extends his hand.  Wes Payton reaches out and makes the tag, entering the ring.

Wolf:  Wes Payton in the ring now after the tag.

Ace:  Get em Wes!  Tear his damn eyes out!

Leon Williams keeps his hold on Shane Jackson and as Wes Payton gets in the ring Leon Williams grabs Shane’s arm and turns him, exposing his ribs.  Wes Payton measures up a shot and tattoos Shane Jackson in the ribs with several rights and lefts. 

Wolf:  Wes Payton working the ribs of Shane Jackson.

Ace:  That’s gonna make it difficult for Shane Jackson.  A rib injury is always a nagging one, making it difficult to breathe, to sleep, to do anything really!

Leon Williams breaks the hold and exits the ring, but not before getting a good punch on Shane Jackson.  Shane rocks back from the blow and Wes Payton picks up where Leon left off, hooking his arm around Shane’s head. 

Wolf:  Wes Payton in control of Shane Jackson now, he’s got him in the center of the ring.

Ace:  God damn these protesters!  Won’t they ever shut up, Wolf?

Wes bends down to one knee and then lifts himself up for leverage, wrenching on Shane’s head.  Shane sells the headlock and then pushes Wes toward the ropes and then pushing him off him toward the ropes at the other side of the ring.  Wes Payton returns and as he does he shoulder blocks Shane, knocking him to the mat.

Wolf:  Shoulder block by Wes Payton!  All that weight just thundering down on Shane Jackson!

Ace:  Wes Payton could have a career in football with a block like that!  Shane Jackson is no lightweight!  He’s a big heavy man! 

Wolf:  He certainly didn’t look it there!

Wes Payton then bounces off the ropes and runs toward, Shane who turns flat on his belly.  Wes Payton hops over Shane and bounces off the ropes on the other side of the ring.  As Wes returns Shane quickly gets to his feet and leap frogs over Wes Payton.

Wolf:  Shane showing his quickness here.  Both men bouncing around the ring.

Ace:  What’s going on?!

Wolf:  A wrestling match you boob!

Wes Payton comes off the ropes on the other side of the ring and Shane quickly turns and dropkicks Wes Payton to the mat.  The Death Row Faithful let out a cheer, and to contest it the protesters let out even louder boos.

Wolf:  Shane with the drop kick.  He really sprung off the mat with that one.

Ace:  This guy is athletic; he can do it all, Wolf!

Wolf:  Great, great, just feed his already huge ego Ace.

Shane Jackson gets to his feet and yells out CASH MONEY as Wes Payton slowly crawls to his feet, stumbling as he does up against the ropes.  Shane Jackson then hooks Wes around the head and tags in Jason Cruz.

Wolf:  Tag here by Cash Money, and Jason Cruz is in!

Jason Cruz enters the ring and Shane Jackson keeps his hold on Wes Payton.  Jason climbs the ropes and jumps off raising his hands over his head and coming down on the back of Wes Payton with a double axe handle.

Wolf:  Impressive double axe handle by Jason Cruz, right down on the back of Wes Payton.

Ace:  And Wes is hurt, Wolf.  You can see this match is starting to take its toll.

Wes Payton sells the double axe handle, falling to the mat.  Jason Cruz looks around at the crowd with his arms out and the Death Row Faithful cheer.  The ever present protesters show their strength with a loud boo.  Jason Cruz ignores them as Wes Payton slowly gets to his feet.  Jason Cruz charges him and then grabs his head and slams him face first into the turnbuckle.

Wolf:  Wes Payton into the turnbuckle, Jason Cruz in control now.

Ace:  Momentarily.  Cash Money in charge, but for how long?

Wes Payton sells the bump, stumbling out into the center of the ring, his eyes wide, his mouth open.  Jason Cruz follows behind him, cautiously looking for an opening.  Wes Payton continues to sell the bump and Jason Cruz comes up behind him, hooking his head under his arm and slamming him down to the mat.

Wolf:  Reverse DDT by Jason Cruz! 

Ace:  Wes Payton never saw that one coming.  And sometimes they’re the ones that hurt the most.

Wolf:  That makes little sense. . .

Ace:  Look it up. . . I saw it in a science book. . .

Wolf:  I highly doubt that.

Jason Cruz crawls over to Wes Payton and goes for the pin, Knox scrambling to the mat after him.

Wolf:  Pin!  1. . . 2. . . NO!  Wes Payton has got his foot on the ropes!

Ace:  Smart!  That’s smart!  This guy knows where he is in the ring at all times!

The referee gets up after seeing Wes Payton’s foot draped over the bottom rope and taps on Jason Cruz to break the pin.  Jason Cruz looks up and Knox indicates the rope break and Jason gets up grudgingly.  He then grabs Wes by the arm and drags him into the Cash Money corner.  He extends a hand and Shane Jackson tags himself in.

Wolf:  Shane Jackson in now, and Wes Payton is out.

Ace:  Jason Cruz had the presence of mind to drag Wes Payton to their corner.  You’re gonna wanna keep your opponent as far away from the potential tag and that’s exactly what they are doing.

Wolf:  Both teams showing some wrestling IQ here in this Death Row tag match.

Ace:  Is that anything like Basketball IQ?

Wolf:  Sorta.

Shane Jackson jumps up into the air and comes down with a leg drop across the throat of Wes Payton.  He then drops down and goes for the pin.

Wolf:  Yet another pin!  1. . . 2. . . NO!  Kick out by Wes Payton!  Shane almost got the pin with that one.

Shane Jackson gets up frustrated and then drags Wes Payton into the center of the ring.  Shane Jackson then grabs Wes’ leg and puts his own between Shane’s before turning Wes over into a sharpshooter.

Wolf:  Cash Out!  Cash Out!  He calls that move the Cash Out!  And Wes Payton may be cashing out if he can’t get to the ropes!

Ace:  And Wes Payton has nowhere to go.  Shane Jackson placed him perfectly in the center of the ring!

Wes Payton’s face turns to one of pain as he sells the sharpshooter, his hands reaching out as if to go for the tag.  Leon Williams wastes no time and enters the ring, kicking Shane Jackson off of Wes.  Frank Knox quickly turns and orders Leon Williams out of the ring, and he abides.

Wolf:  Cheap shot by Leon Williams!

Ace:  It’s a good thing he got in there, or this one would be over already!

Shane Jackson moves over toward Leon’s corner and shouts out at him before returning to Wes and stomping him once, twice, three times in the back of the head.  Shane then picks up Wes and Irish whips him into the ropes.  As Wes Payton hits the ropes Leon Williams makes the blind tag, and as Wes returns Shane jumps into the air and dropkicks him to the mat.

Wolf:  Wes Payton down after the dropkick.

Ace:  But Leon Williams made the tag!  He’s up on the top rope!

Leon Williams perches on the top rope and he jumps off, but Shane catches him in time and jumps up again and drop kicks Leon Williams, the forces colliding against one another.  Leon Williams falls back from the drop kick and hits the mat hard.

Wolf:  Huge drop kick by Shane Jackson!

Ace:  Leon Williams actually jumped into that one!

Wolf:  Sure did Ace!  And Leon Williams looks dazed!

Leon sells the dropkick, grabbing his jaw and rolling around the ring.  Shane Jackson gets up and taunts the crowd, letting out another shout of CASH MONEY.

Wolf:  He sure likes saying that.

Ace:  Of course, cash and money are his two favorite things.

Wolf:  They’re the same thing…

Ace:  Don’t tell Shane Jackson that!

Shane Jackson makes his way over to Leon Williams and then brings him to his feet.  Shane Jackson raises his arm before hooking Leon under his arm and whilst grabbing one of Leon’s legs, and Shane falls back, slamming him to the mat.  He keeps the hold for the pin.

Wolf:  Fisherman suplex into the pin by Shane Jackson!  1. . . 2. . . kick out!

Ace:  Leon Williams kicks out after that impressive fisherman suplex.

Shane Jackson gets up frustrated, checking the referee, who extends two fingers in Shane’s face.  Shane Jackson then picks up Leon Williams and punches him in the face with a left, then right, and then another left, Leon rocking back from each blow.  Shane then grabs Leon Williams by the head, spins him around, and brings him down to the mat, dropping Leon’s neck against his shoulder.

Wolf:  Neck breaker by Shane Jackson!  Leon Williams may have been dying into the ring, but he must be regretting it now!

Ace:  Shane Jackson is kicking the shit out of Leon Williams right now.  There’s no doubt about it, Wolf.

Shane Jackson then motions toward Jason Cruz, who nods in response.  Shane Jackson grabs Leon Williams and brings him to his feet, moving him toward Cash Money’s corner.  Shane Jackson extends a free hand and Jason Cruz slaps it, tagging himself in.

Wolf:  Shane Jackson making the tag.  But what’s Jason Cruz doing?

Ace:  He’s going for some high risk, Wolf!

Shane Jackson then lowers himself under Leon Williams, lifting him up into the air on his shoulders.  Shane Jackson stands with Leon Williams’ legs draped over his shoulders, and Jason Cruz jumps off and dropkicks Leon Williams off of Shane Jackson.

Wolf:  Cash Missle!  Leon Williams is down!

Jason Cruz climbs over Leon Wiliams and goes for the pin, as Shane Jackson charges Wes Payton on the apron and knocks him off, preventing any hopes of breaking the count.  Frank Knox hits the mat.

Wolf:  This could be it!  1. . . 2. . . 3!  It’s over, It’s over!

Ace:  Cash Money did it, just as I suspected all along!

Wolf:  After the Cash Missle Jason Cruz went for the pin and then all it took was the 1. . 2. . 3.

Ace:  Another loss for Tha Krew.  Tim Ross better look out, his enforcers are looking weak!

Leon Williams rolls out of the ring as Frank Knox raises the arms of Jason Cruz and Shane Jackson simultaneously.  The protesters let out a chorus of boos.  Shane Jackson and Jason Cruz then go over to the ropes and the ring hand hands them up their belts.  They each grab one and then turn and raise the belts for all the crowd to see.

Wolf:  They sure are proud of those things, aren’t they?  You’d think they actually believe they’re legit!

Ace:  Who’s to say they aren’t?  Cash Money claims to be the best tag team in The Row, and so far, no one has been able to prove them wrong.

Shane Jackson and Jason Cruz then lower the belts and exit the ring, breathing heavy.  They show off their belts to the camera before turning and walking back up the ramp.

Wolf:  Well there they go, one of the top tag teams in The Row.

Ace:  We’ll be right back.  But first. . .  The Row is brought to you by Tom’s Tool Shack.  Need a tool he’s got it.  He’s a tool man who knows his tool.  So stop being a tool and stop on by!

Wolf:  And. . . Sherry’s All Natural Weaves, providing you with all your hair beauty needs on the corner of Custard Avenue and Churchill Street.

The New Champion

'Kiss My Country Ass' begins playing over the PA, as FJ Tombs walks into everyone's view. He raises the Death Row Championship to a mixture of cheers and boos. Tombs drops the title onto his shoulder and makes his way to the ring. Members of the One Million Moms yell at Tombs as he walks up the ring steps. He just smiles as he enters the ring and pulls a microphone from his back pocket.

Tombs:  Looks like a lot of people aren't happy to see the new champion. 
Another loud mixture a boos and cheers cuts Tombs off. He smiles as the sounds die down.
Tombs:  Whether you love me, hate me, or are just being an asshole, I am happy to be here, tonight. At the last Lethal injection, I was able to fulfill a childhood dream. I captured my first wrestling championship, but not just any championship. I won the Death Row Championship. The ultimate prize of the best new and upcoming wrestling organization. A championship I plan on holding for a long time to come. But can I ask a question real fast? Why would anyone be protesting what a wrestling company should be?
Again a mixture of cheers and boos pick up.
Tombs:  Now I know a lot of the real Death Row fans are trying to have a good time. I am personally sorry these ignorant people are here trying to ruin the show you paid for because they have too much time on their hands. 
Cheers flow through as Tombs smiles.
Tombs:  They are all sitting on large divorce settlements, after their husbands abandoned them for younger, more attractive women, so they don't work. They sit around trying to take away from the good time of others!
Several women in the crowd start booing Tombs.
Tombs:  Don't worry, just because the One Million Moms are here doesn't mean I am going to take it easy on Chance Von Crank tonight. Now some of you may or may not know but Chance Von Crank has been crying and begging for a shot at this title from day one. Well after using underhand tactics and making an alliance with Dark, he finally has it. I'm going to make sure I beat Chance so bad tonight he regrets every damn thing he has done to get a spot in the main event at Cell Block Four! Like I said, I wouldn't know where to start on describing what it's like being Death Row Champion. I will tell you, I am going to do everything in my power to make sure it's going to be a long time before Chance Von Crank gets to know this feeling. See you later tonight Chance. Now hit my offensive music.
'Kiss My Country Ass' starts playing as Tombs raise his championship in the air before exiting the ring and making his way to the back, slapping hands with fans on his way out.

Introducing Johnny "The Rat" Cox

We cut to a door in the back a piece of printed computer paper reading OFFICE taped in the center of the door directing your attention to the fact that this is Da Boss’s Office.  The door opens and Tha Krew lets the cameraman through.  The cameraman makes his way to the desk, which is situated in the center of the room.

Tim Ross sits with his arms folded, leaning back with a smile on his face.  On the desk a cigar sits on an ashtray, the blue smoke lifting up from it twirling, as if Ross had just picked it up to take a puff to help him organize his thoughts.  Ross smiles.

Ross:  Well I’ll be damned.

Ross leans back further and the chair squeals in protest.

Ross (cont’d):  If it aint the fuckin’ rat.

We see Johnny Cox entering the room, wearing a beat up shirt and jeans.  Johnny enters the room with a look of familiarity on his face.

Ross:  It’s about time you fuckin’ showed up.”

Johnny:  You needed me?

Johnny asks innocently, as he very well already knows the answer.

Ross:  Yes, please, sit, sit down.

Ross says as he stretches a hand out over the desk, directing Johnny where to sit. 

Ross (cont’d):  Cigar?

Johnny:  Sure.

Ross hands him a cigar and Johnny bites off one end and lights it.  The two sit smoking their cigars for awhile, the blue smoke twirling around the room.

Ross:  This place. . . is full of snitches and bitches. . .  You know what I’m sayin?  Look.  I need a guy like you to keep your ears open.  To tell me whats on the down low.  What’s on the real.  Can you do that for me?

Johnny leans forward, for here came his favorite part of any negotiation.

Johnny:  What’s in it for me?” 

Johnny asks, letting out a loud cloud of smoke.  He then leans back, looking at Ross slyly with a smile on his face.

Ross:  What’s it in for you?

Ross laughs, shaking his head. 

Ross (cont’d):  Well a job, for one, mothafucka.  How’s that?  And two, cheddah.  I gots it, and you need it.

Johnny:  Maybe. . . and what am I to do?”

Ross:  Listen round.  Feel fellas out.  When I show up they all zip up like we used to whenever a guard was walking by.  It aint right.  I feel like I’m one of them now.  One of them coppers.  And, I need a mothafucka like you to let me know what’s what.  Cause none of these niggas is giving me a straight answer. . . And in return you get work and money, and you get out of the motha fucking cycle.

Johnny:  I don’t know, Ross. . . I got me a guy down south—

Ross:  Don’t you want to bettah yourself, nigga?  Look at me.  I came from where you were and look at me now.  I run The Row.  I’m my own warden now. . .  And just imagine it.  Going from town to town, getting paid to beat the shit out of people.

Johnny:  No purse snatchin?  No lady takin’?

Ross:  What you do with your own time don’t bother me none.  Just as long as you keep your ear to the ground and listen to what all the bugs are saying.  With the media around and these damn protesters, I got a funny feeling. . .

Ross sucks on his cigar pensively, looking not at Johnny but through Johnny, past him and into the future, and he’s not liking what he sees.

Johnny:  What feeling?”

Ross:  Just a feelin’ aiight?  So you get out and tell me what’s what… You hear?

Johnny sits for a moment smoking his cigar, as if he were thinking about it, though he knew full well that he has already decided.  Johnny then gets up and turns, walking toward the door.  As he reaches the threshold he turns.

Johnny:  Alright. . .

He smiles sarcastically.

Johnny (cont’d):  Boss. . .

Johnny disappears through the door before Ross speaks up, calling out to him.

Ross:  Oh, and you got a match tonight, motha fucka.

Johnny:  WHAT?!

We fade. . . 

Cowering Inferno

The camera opens backstage at the Charleston Civic Center. Seth Stratton strolls through the backstage entrance lugging his custom Louis Vuitton bags. He notices some roadies stacking equipment and engages them in conversation.

Seth Stratton: Would one of you be a dear and carry my bags to the locker room?

They stare at him incredulously. He turns and notices two other roadies just milling about, shooting the breeze. Of course, these aren’t roadies at all, but premier Death Row Wrestling tag team Fracture. But Seth doesn’t know that because come on, who pays attention to the tag division?

Seth: Ahoy! Be very careful with these, they’re worth more than your shared studio apartment.

He thrusts the bags into the larger Rupture’s arms.

Rupture: Uh, sorry dude, but-

Schism throws a hand out, interrupting him. Beneath his mask he’s probably smiling mischievously.

Schism: That won’t be a problem, sir.

Rupture stares at him and tilts his head in confusion.

Schism: Is there anything else we can do for you? Shine your boots? Oil your leathers?

Seth: No, just the bags for now.

He shoots a disdainful look at the actual roadies.

Seth: But it’s nice to see a couple lower rung workers showing a little initiative! That’s how a man gets ahead in this world. Initiative. That or marrying a really old chick with money, having to bone her once a week for the remaining few years of her life, then collecting her estate. But then you have to battle it out in the courts with her children, not to mention all the therapy it takes it get the sex images out of your head. Do you know what varicose veins look like really close up? It’s disg-

He notices the looks everyone in the room are giving him.

Seth: … Uh, anyway. I’m going to grab a pre-match Earl Gray tea. Get those bags to my locker. Chop, chop!

Seth hurries off out of shot, leaving his bags in the capable hands of ‘The Roadie’ Schism.

Rupture: What the hell’s wrong with you?

Schism: What?

Rupture: That jerk thinks you’re a roadie!

Schism: Yeah?

Rupture: But you’re not.

Schism: So? Papa’s got a brand new bag.

Schism lifts the back up to head height to show it off to his tag partner before dropping it down to the floor just as quickly. Something fragile inside clearly smashes. It’s obvious by the sound of something fragile smashing.

Schism: JESUS! Did you smell that?

Rupture: Smell what?

Schism: I think something’s died in there! ...I wouldn’t be surprised, Stratton’s probably into that whole Richard Gere thing.

Rupture tilted his head back as he realized what exactly was going on here.

Rupture: Oooooh... Oh yeah, I did smell it. Man, that’s rough. We should probably dispose of these bags right away.

Schism: You read my mind, Rup.

Schism bends down and grabs the bag by the handle.

Rupture: Woah man, don’t move it. Who knows what might be in there? I think it’ll be safer if we uhhh...

With that Rupture pulls a book of matches from his back pocket.

Rupture: If we dispose of it right here.

Schism: Yeah, sure.

Schism kneels down slowly and gingerly opens the bag.

Schism: When I open it, you throw the matches in. We’ll be heroes for this, no dead gerbil germs are going to be contaminating Death Row tonight!

Rupture: Ok, on three. One.

Schism: Two

Together: THREE!

Schism rips the bag open as Rupture strikes the matches. He casts the little sticks of fire into the bag and within seconds the whole thing is ablaze. It’s a good job Seth Stratton’s clothes are made of polyester. And I guess the alcohol soaking them helped in getting them going.

Although where that Alcohol came from...

Schism: We’re heroes!

Rupture: HOLY CRAP ON A CRACKER! Schis, there’s a fire!

Schism: JEEZ! Are you training in combating fire?

Rupture: No, are you?

Schism: No, I missed that day at fireman school.

Rupture: Maybe we shouldn’t stand this close to said fire.

Schism: Probably not, Rup.

And, with that, Rupture and Schism make their way out of shot, leaving the Louis Vuitton bags ablaze in the middle of the floor. Seth strolls back into the shot moments later sipping tea from a cup.

Seth: Something smells good! Are we having a barbeque?

Seth stares down at the smoldering luggage.

Seth: What is this?

He notices the actual roadies snickering in the corner, and puts two and two together. He falls to his knees.


The camera pans to the right, showing a group of protesting Mothers outside the door. One of them screams.


Cort Vang vs. Johnny "The Rat" Cox

Wolf:  Well it appears The Row has its very own snitch now. . . This place is becoming more and more like a prison every day.

Ace:  Once a convict always a convict I say.  Tim Ross just can’t help it.

Wolf:  With Johnny “The Rat” around I’m sure everyone is gonna have to watch what they say.  But tonight apparently he also has a match, against one Cort Vang.

Ace:  The One Man Misdemeanor has been all over the place as of late, attacking guys left and right.  I don’t think this guy just plain gives a shit, Wolf.

Wolf:  That much is apparent.  He’s taken on Dark and FJ Tombs in the past—Dark being a former champ and FJ Tombs being the current champ—he’ll take on anyone.

Ace:  I think this just may be the first Criminal vs. Criminal match in Death Row History!  I mean we’ve had matches in prison cells before amongst other actual criminals, but never have the participants themselves been jailbirds!

Wolf:  Well that very well may be true Ace, and here comes the first jailbird. . .

‘Crucified’ starts up through the arena, the protesters rising to their feet in mass, the fans rising after, their YOU CAN’T READ contesting the JESUS SAVES chants from the One Million Moms.   We cut to a shot of some fans in the first Row, as the chants continue:


Wolf:  Are those chants directed toward the One Million Moms or Cort Vang?