Ace: Johnny Cox has been taken out!
Wolf: There are so many shhushpects. Everybody hates that guy!
Ace: You don't think it was Anarchy?
Wolf: Fuck no!
We cut to Waylon and Ace, Waylon well into drunkenness. Ace tries to hide the fact that he is flustered, but he fails miserably at it. His cheeks are flushed and he can’t help looking around all the time, like he just stole something. The frat boys start up a chant, becoming anxious after the intermission. Waylon brings up a red cup full of presumably beer and takes a good healthy chug. He sighs satisfactorily and then lets out a burp.
Wolf: Ffffuck da wwiffffeee.
Ace: That’s right Wolf, fuck the wife. . . well we’ve got the ring cleaned up and now we’re ready to get back to action.
Wolf: Back to action—back to action—this federation is a woke.
Ace: A woke?
Wolf: Uh j-j-joke.
The introduction to ‘Needles’ by System of a Down begins to play and the frat boys immediately look for someone to fight—as many of them spent their time in high school beating up metal heads—for no other reason than to have something to do. These jock type douches crush their cups to the sound of introduction, showing no concern for the brew they so dearly love; their sudden hatred is that great.
Wolf: Fffffuck! Someone is shooting!
Ace: No no Wolf. That’s the introduction to Major Kendu’s theme music. You should know that by now—I think you’re slipping old man.
Wolf: Rrrreally? Wh-wh-what gave meee away?
Ace: Aww Jesus Christ, you smell like a bar bathroom.
The frat boys let out a chorus of boos and FUCK YOU’s as Major Kendu appears in the backdoor. He stands there for a moment, looking around a bit before he steps down onto the grass, his bag of tricks over his shoulder.
Ace: Well here he is. Major Kendu, and his bag of tricks again.
Wolf: Cocoa Pebbles.
Kendu makes his way out onto the grass, noticing the slight spring of the blades underneath his feet. He steps through the frat boys, who make way for him and curse him as he passes. One frat boy makes the mistake of spilling some beer on him and Kendu turns to the offender and starts to choke him, pushing him up against the mass of unmotivated college students. The group pushes back and Kendu releases his hold.
Ace: Whatever you do don’t spill beer on Major Kendu! He’ll play around in a landfill like a kid in the sandbox, but not beer.
Wolf: I likeee beer.
Ace: Sure you do.
Kendu warns the fella and the frat boys let out a laugh, feeling it is indeed all a part of the show. Kendu reaches the ring and climbs slowly up the steel steps. He reaches the post and makes his way to the apron, ignoring the frat boys surrounding the ring, close enough to strike out at. Kendu places his bag of tricks in the corner over the top rope and then steps through the top and middle ropes, entering the ring himself.
Ace: Kendu in the ring now after a brief scuffle with some of the fans here. I don’t know if doing a show for a bunch of spoiled college kids is such a good idea. I don’t care how much Dark got for this.
Wolf: Of course you would say that. You never went to college!
Ace: And look at me now!
Wolf: Fucking mumblemumblemumblemumble.
The sweet, sweet sound of a calypso guitar begins to sound out over the stolen audio system in the grass, and the frat boys for a moment pause to take it in. This is not CREED. What is this nonsense? The guitar continues its sensual notes, abrupt and broken through with the occasional strum of the guitar.
Ace: Kendu’s opponent for tonight of course is none other than The Row’s own bong smoking luchadore, Mariguano.
Wolf: Ffffucking foreigners. Always taking good jobs away from Americans. B-bback in my day we’d take us a minority and give em a real drubbing. Back in my day blacks couldn’t be out past sun-su-sundown!
Ace: Back in your day, people still traveled on horseback.
Another guitar joins in and the tempo picks up as Mariguano appears at the backdoor. A great cheer comes up from the stoner clique of the fraternity, and Mariguano smiles before letting out a cloud of smoke.
Wolf: What is that? Cigar smoke?
Ace: Not exactly. . . Who do you like in this one, Wolf? Or should I not even bother asking?
Wolf: N-n-no, seriousssly. . . What kind of smoke?
Ace: Brimstone. Mariguano is a devil.
Wolf: I KNEW IT! A-a-all them foreigners are thaaa devullll.
Mariguano plays it up for the stoners, shuffling to the left and then shuffling right before making his way to the ring. The crowd parts, allowing Mariguano through, and he smiles and says HELLO to as many fellas as he can as he passes. As he reaches the group of stoners he puts his arms out and they all give him some high five.
Ace: Mariguano real big with the Jerry Town kids. . . you ever a Dead Head, Wolf?
Wolf: What the fffuck? Hell noooo. I keep straight. No drugs for me.
Wolf takes a chug.
Ace: Yeah. . . I can see that.
Mariguano hops up to the apron and then grabs the top rope before hopping over it into the ring. He lands silently, with a spring in his step much like that of a cat. He salutes the frat fucks once before taking up a corner opposite of Major Kendu, who’s already scoping out his opponent.
Ace: Mariguano here returning to action after an unexpected loss to Trevor Browning. He had the match won—or so he thought, but Trevor Browning had the presence of mind to bring up his knees during the Bongo Drop—and well Mariguano took all the punishment with that one. He practically cost himself the match.
Wolf: The poor bastard.
Charlene makes her way to the ring, her mind already working figures—10 dollars: blow job 15: fuck, 87 frat boys, carry the 7—as she climbs up the steps. She steps over the bottom rope and swings under the middle rope, rising and smiling a little too much. Her missing teeth show but she’s oblivious of the fact and the frat boys have strapped in their beer goggles long ago.
Charlene: The following match is for one fall, and has a thirty minute time limit. It is a tournament match orch-orch-estrated in an effort to name. . . the. . . number one contender.
She smiles again as she struggles to read her own handwriting, written last night in the midst of a crack high.
Charlene: Introducing first, from Galien, Michigan, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-four pounds, Major Kenduuuuuu!
The crowd lets out a chorus of boos as Major Kendu stands in the corner, watching over his bag of tricks. He ignores the words of protest coming from the frat fucks.
Wolf: Is this guy Asian or what? I’ve nhhever figuredddd that out.
Ace: It’s only one of Major Kendu’s many mysteries. This guy is sort of an enigma. If it seems irrational, maybe even a little stupid, there will be Major Kendu.
Wolf: FUCK THE WIFE!
El Toro raises his arm and signals for the bell, the bell striking through the air out over the heads of the drunken frat boys.
Ace: And here we go!
Major Kendu and Mariguano circle one another around the ring for a bit before immediately locking up in the center of the ring with a clash of arms and elbows.
Ace: Quick lock up in the center of the ring.
Wolf: We are scum deluxe. . .
Ace: That we are Wolf, that we are. . .
Mariguano and Major Kendu jock for position and Major Kendu gains the upper hand by grabbing Mariguano by the wrist and twisting the arm. Mariguano sells by contorting his face into one of anguish.
Ace: Wrist lock now by Major Kendu here in this tournament match. Both men of course are fighting for the opportunity to be named the number one contender and earn their shot for the Death Row Title against Seth Stratton—which is much like killing yourself to be the one that gets picked for a whipping. Who’s gonna beat Seth? I mean really?
Wolf: I could beat that little bastard if I was in my prime. I used to be a beautiful man with brown hair. I used to bed with women every night, and now look at me? Commentating a sausage fest with not a woman in sight. Ffffffuckkk.
Major Kendu wrenches on the arm and Mariguano sells each time he twists the arm, letting out a cry of pain. El Toro checks with Mariguano, speaking with him in his native tongue. Mariguano shakes his head and slaps his shoulder once before rolling forward and kipping up, untwisting his arm. As he kips up he grabs Kendus arm and twists it himself.
Ace: Wrist lock now by Mariguano on Major Kendu!
Wolf: Whut’s thereeee to be excited about you shit? This fed is going undeeeeerr. KERRRRSPLASH. Down the damn toiletttt.
Ace: No one needs your negativity, Nancy.
Wolf: NANCY! Oh NANCY! My one true love! I never should have killed you. . .
Ace: Yeah—wait, what?
The sound of Wolf crying is heard over the match as Mariguano wrenches the wrist lock. Major Kendu sells the wrist lock and then uses his off hand to punch Mariguano in the face, once, twice, three times. Mariguano breaks the hold, rocking back from the blows.
Major Kendu grabs Mariguano by the arm and Irish whips him into the ropes.
Mariguano hits the ropes and bounces off, returning to Major Kendu in the center of the ring. Kendu bends at the waist, lowering himself as Mariguano reaches him. Kendu then grabs Mariguano by the waist but as he lifts Mariguano up Mariguano hooks him by the head and falls backward, bringing his head straight to the mat.
Ace: DDT by Mariguano! What reversal there!
Wolf: Listen to these ffhuckers. Applauding like they've never seen one before.
The frat boys pop and raise their beers in appreciation of the DDT--one of the few moves they still recognize. Mariguano scrambles over to Kendu and hooks the leg, going for the pin. The frat boys cheer in anticipation as El Toro slides to the mat.
Ace: Quick pin by Mariguano. 1. . . kick out. Not enough.
Wolf: What a fucking joke.
Mariguano quickly gets to his feet and Kendu is up right after him, and the two lock up in the center of the ring. After a moment of testing one another's strength, Kendu raises one of Mariguano's arms and hooks him around the waist.
Ace: Rear lock now by Kendu.
Kendu then uses his legs and his hips to lift Mariguano up over him and to the mat, Mariguano landing on his upper back.
Ace: German suplex!
Kendu keeps his hold and gets to his feet, bringing Mariguano to his feet with him. Again Kendu uses his legs to lift Kendu up over him and to the mat.
Ace: Another German suplex! Kendu is going for the Kendu Crush already! Could this match already be over?
Wolf: Fuck it all. Just drink. Whooooeee!
Kendu gets to his feet for a final time, keeping his lock around Mariguano's waist and bringing him up to his feet with him. Kendu then goes for the third and final german suplex, completing the Kendu Crush, but Mariguano takes his feet and hooks them around Kendu's legs, blocking it.
Ace: Kendu trying to go for that final suplex, but Mariguano is fighting it! This one may not be over yet!
Wolf: Awww fuckkkk.
Kendu again goes for the German suplex, and manages to raise Mariguano over his head but Mariguano flips out of it, landing on his feet behind Kendu!
Ace: No luck there Kendu! Look out!
Mariguano pushes the small of Kendu's back, rushing him into the corner of the ring. Kendu collides belly first with the corner and comes stumbling out of the corner. Mariguano runs off the ropes to the right of Kendu and as he returns he hooks Kendu around the head, bringing him to the mat with him as Mariguano lands on the mat in the seated position.
Ace: Reverse bulldog by Mariguano!
The frat fucks pop as Mariguano gets to his feet and lets out a little bow. Mariguano raises his head and sniffs the air, looking around.
Ace: What--what's he onto?
Wolf: A Mexican like that? Probably smells beans cooking somewhere.
Ace: Hey that's racist!
Wolf: Fuck it! Fuck you!
Mariguano makes his way to the ropes and reaches over, grabbing a lit joint. He takes it and brings it up to his mouth, smoking it right through his mask. He takes a hit and holds it in promptly returning it.
Ace: He's getting high during the middle of the match!
Wolf: This shit is fffffuckin disgrafullll.
Mariguano lets out the smoke and returns to Kendu, who is slowly getting to his feet. Mariguano grabs Kendu by the hair and Kendu rises up with a kick to the gut. Mariguano sells the kick, bending at the waist, and then Kendu reaches back and starts unload rights, each blow rocking Mariguano back.
Ace: See! You take your eyes off your opponent for just one second, and it costs you. Mariguano just couldn't turn down the idea of getting high, and now he's paying for it.
Wolf: Bust tha fuckin' dhhhoper.
Ace: You really gotta watch the slurring, Wolf.
Kendu works Mariguano into the corner and starts to chop the chest, the frat boys cheering after each slap rings out.
Wolf: Kendu with the chops now!
Mariguano sells the countless chops and Kendu the grabs him around the waist and lifts him up to the top turnbuckle in the seated position. The crowd starts to buzz as Major Kendu starts to climb up the ropes after him.
Ace: Both men are getting up on the turnbuckle now, this is definitely going to get dangerous!
Wolf: I hope they both fall and break their fffhucking necksss.
Ace: Take that back!
Wolf: Fffhuck you!
The frat fucks buzz as Major Kendu starts to make his way up to Mariguano. He stands on the bottom rope and goes to climb to the second rope but Mariguano rises from the top and punches him once, twice, three times, knocking him down to the mat. Kendu lands on his feet and takes a few steps back to regain his balance and Mariguano quickly stands up on the turnbuckle and jumps off, somersaulting once through the air before he connects with Kendu, sending him to the mat. The crowd pops.
Ace: Flying Summersault Plancha by Mariguano! What a move Wolf!
Wolf: That fucker no doubt summersault plancha'ed into this country! Damn border hopper! Fffhuck him!
Kendu sells the summersault as Mariguano gets up and once again plays it up for the crowd. He does a little dance to some mariachi music.
Ace: Mariguano enjoying himself here tonight--I thought that marijuana is hitting him.
Wolf: Marijuana! That's what was in the fffhucking thing?
Ace: What did you think it was? Tobacco?
Wolf: Jesus Christ! We've got a ffffiend in the ring!
Mariguano stops his dance and makes his way over to Major Kendu who plays possum in the corner. Mariguano reaches him and Major Kendu rises up with a clean right that knocks Mariguano clean to the mat.
Ace: He was faking! Kendu using his brains here, while Mariguano seeks only to destroy his!
Kendu looks to the crowd and points to his head, as if to illustrate he's a thinking man. Mariguano sells on the mat, grabbing his jaw where the blow cracked him. Kendu then bends at the waist and grabs Mariguano by the mask, bringing him to his feet.
Ace: Mariguano to his feet now, with the aid of Major Kendu. Once again his flaunting and bullshit with the crowd has cost him.
Major Kendu reaches back with another right, knocking Mariguano back and up against the ropes. Mariguano hooks his arms around the back of the top rope to keep himself there, and he shakes his head as if to get the cobwebs out. Major Kendu charges him and extends out an arm, knocking it into Mariguano and sending him outside of the ring to the grass.
Ace: Clothesline by Major Kendu! And Mariguano is out of the ring!
Wolf: Fuck that. That's grass out there. Who gives a sssshit?!
The crowd of frat fucks spreads out around Mariguano, giving him space, as El Toro starts up the count. UNO . . . Major Kendu climbs out of the ring and lands on the grass. DOS. . . He makes his way to Mariguano, who's still selling on the grass as the frat boys play it up for the camera and say shit like HI MOM and CAL POLY FOOTBALL RULES. TRES. . . The images jostles around, as the camera man makes precarious work of navigating through these meat heads.
Ace: A little Row up close and personal here as both men are outside of the ring. El Toro doing his job and tallying the count out.
Wolf: I'm waiting for the next fucking lawsuit.
CUATRO. . .Major Kendu bends at the waist and brings Mariguano to his feet and then starts to throw lefts and rights, each blow rocking Mariguano backward.
Ace: Kendu unleashing lefts and rights now on Mariguano, jostling the ole noggin.
Wolf: I ought to jostle you you fffhucking fairy boy.
CINCO. . .Major Kendu then whips Mariguano toward the ring, and before Mariguano reaches it he turns and his back collides up with the apron. SEIS. . .The crowd lets out an OHHHH as Major Kendu smiles and makes his way over to Mariguano, already thinking of the plot in his landfill he plans to put him in.
Ace: Mariguano into the side of the ring! That's gotta hurt!
Wolf: Well it certainly doesn't feel good you idiot.
SIETE. . .Major Kendu shortens the gap between himself and Mariguano and when he reaches Mariguano he greets him with a couple of rights before tossing him into the ring.
Ace: Both men back in the ring now. If you're unfamiliar with Spanish we got all the way up to seven before both men returned to the ring.
Wolf: Spanish is ugly. Like youuuu.
Ace: Right. . . that booze is effecting those eyes of yours.
Major Kendu rolls under the rope and follows after Mariguano who sells in the ring. Major Kendu covers Mariguano, hooking the leg. El Toro slides to the mat to make the count.
Ace: 1. . . 2--kick out. Mariguano kicks out.
Major Kendu then grabs Mariguano by the head, hooking the arm around the head and across the throat. Major Kendu wrenches the head, and Mariguano cries out in pain.
Ace: Headlock here by Kendu, keeping the high flyer here on the mat.
Wolf: The fffhucking border hopper!
Kendu continues to wrench the head and El Toro bends at the waist and asks in Spanish if Mariguano would like to submit. Mariguano shakes his head and reaches out for the ropes. Kendu wrenches back on the head once more and again Mariguano cries out.
Ace: Kendu keeping that head locked in, and I don't know if anything will get Mariguano out of that hold.
Wolf: Is Kendu Asian or what? I don't get it. I just don't fucking get it. HE don't look like a CHINK.
Wolf: Shut the fffhuck up Chink Lover.
Ace: Folks--I'd like to apologize--
ASK HIM, ASK HIM, Kendu screams out as he tightens the hold around Mariguano's neck. El Toro circles around and asks Mariguano but he still gets the same answer: NO.
Ace: Mariguano refusing to give up here, and I don't know if thats the best of ideas. He's got a future to think about, doesn't he?
Wolf: He's already killing that brain of his--what's a little ffhucking brain dep-deprivitation?
Ace: Oxygen deprivation?
Wolf: Yuh-yeah, that's it.
Mariguano reaches out for the ropes and kicks his feet, and Kendu releases the hold, pushing Mariguano to the mat and then stomping him profusely in the head.
Ace: Kendu stomping Mariguano now after he tried to get out of that headlock.
Wolf: Stomp that little ffhucking bug!
Kendu again drops to the mat and grabs Mariguano around the head, draping an arm across the throat. With his other hand he applies pressure to the temple, squeezing Mariguano's head. Mariguano cries out and the crowd boos Kendu's slow style of wrestling.
Ace: The fans aint happy with it, but Kendu is slowling working Mariguano down. Targeting the head he is, and before the end of the night, Mariguano is gonna have one hell of a headache.
Wolf: I'm gonna have a headache if I have to listen to your shit anymore.
Ace: Then don't. . . why don't you just leave?
Wolf: Fine I will!
Wolf storms off, drunkenly, as meanwhile in the ring El Toro checks with Mariguano. Mariguano refuses to submit, shaking his head and making a conscious effort to reach for the ropes. He ignores the pain in his head as Major Kendu continues to tighten his hold, gritting his teeth as he tries to squeeze Mariguano like a grape between the fingers.
Ace: Well, I'd like to apologize folks. . . Wolf has been having some issues--here as Kendu tights the sleeper hold--he's got a lot on his plate.
El Toro continues to check with Mariguano, and gets the same emphatic NO each time. Mariguano then slides his legs underneath him, and gets up to his knees. Kendu tightens his hold in an effort to hault Mariguano but still Mariguano rises.
Ace: Mariguano is getting to his feet! There's still some fight left in this doper after all! He doesn't want a repeat of what happened last Lethal Injection!
Mariguano gets to his feet and the frat boys start to cheer, as they are more interested in high flying acts--besides they've hated Kendu from the start. Mariguano gets to his feet and punches Kendu in the gut once, twice, three times before he breaks the hold.
Ace: And he's out of it!
Kendu sells the blows to the gut as Mariguano takes off, charging the ropes. Mariguano hits the ropes and returns toward Kendu. As he reaches him Mariguano jumps up into the air and hooks his legs around his head and then comes down to the mat, bringing Kendu with him.
Ace: Flying head scissors by Mariguano! And both men are down now!
The frats let out a giant cheer, as nearby Waylon Wolf can be seen doing a keg stand with the aid of two jock types. They've never seen an old man do one before.
Ace: Jesus Christ Wolf! What are you thinking?!
Meanwhile in the ring, El Toro sees both men on the ground and starts up the count. UNO. . . Mariguano and Major Kendu both lay on the mat, slow to get up. DOS. . . TRES. . . CUATRO. . . Mariguano starts to get to his feet, pulling himself to the ropes as Major Kendu shows signs of life.
Ace: Both men slow to get up here as Waylon Wolf makes a choice that's going to haunt him tomorrow.
CINCO. . . Mariguano pulls himself to his feet as Major Kendu gets to his knees. SEIS. . . Mariguano reaches Major Kendu and aids him to his feet by pulling him by the hair. Marigunao then takes one of Kendu's arms and hooks it over his head. Mariguano then grabs Kendu by the tights and pulls him up and backward, slamming him quickly to the mat.
Ace: Snap suplex by Mariguano!
Kendu sells the bump as Mariguano gets to his feet and points to the corner. The frat fucks pop as Mariguano makes his way to the corner, turning his head for a moment to spot up Major Kendu. Mariguano the pulls himself up to the top turnbuckle.
Ace: We all know what happened the last time Mariguano went for a high risk move--it back fired on him. Apparently he's not thinking about last week, he's thinking about today and the now.
Mariguano balances himself as he rises to his feet. Mariguano stands upright on the turnbuckle as Major Kendu slowly gets to his feet. He looks around the ring for Mariguano and he turns around toward Mariguano just as he jumps off the turnbuckle, flipping forward through the air once before extending and arm and striking Kendu with it, sending him to the mat. The frat fucks pop.
Ace: Forward Rolling Lariat by Mariguano from the top rope! What a move!
The crowd continues to buzz as Mariguano scrambles over to Major Kendu, hooking the leg and pinning him to the mat. El Toro slides to the mat expertly and goes for the count.
Ace: Pin now after that lariat! Mariguano just may be advancing to the next round! 1. . . 2. . .NO! Kendu kicks out!
The crowd dies down as Mariguano turns to check with El Toro, and the midget shows him two fingers. Mariguano then gets to his feet and stomps Kendu, once, twice, before bending at the waist and reaching down, grabbing a handful of hair. Mariguano pulls upward and Kendu slowly gets to his feet.
Ace: Kendu is up now, Mariguano in control here.
Kendu rises with a right and the blow knocks Mariguano back, but Mariguano returns with a right of his own, connecting with the jaw of Kendu.
Ace: Both men exchanging blows here.
Major Kendu reaches up and grabs Mariguano by the arm, attempting to Irish whip him into the ropes. Mariguano reverses, sending Major Kendu into the ropes instead.
Ace: Irish whip reversal, Kendu into the ropes now, and there he goes.
Kendu bounces off the ropes and returns toward the center of the ring. As he reaches Mariguano, Mariguano jumps up into the air and hooks both of his legs around Kendu's head before falling backwards, sending Kendu to the mat behind him.
Ace: Hurricanranna by Mariguano! And listen to these fans!
The crowd pops as Mariguano scrambles over to Kendu and hooks the leg, going for the pin. El Toro does his job: he slides to the mat and goes for the count as the crowd lets out a drunken cheer.
Ace: We've got a pin here! 1. . . 2. . . NO! Kendu had the presence of mind to put his foot out on the rope, breaking the pin!
El Toro notices the leg and stops the count. He informs Mariguano of the leg and Mariguano gets up off of Kendu.
Ace: Kendu showing he has more brains here tonight, that's for sure.
Mariguano bends at the waist and grabs a handful of Kendu's hair, bring him to his feet. Mariguano then kicks him in the gut, the blow causing Kendu to bend at the waist. Mariguano then takes his head and places it between his legs before hooking him around the waist, in an effort to go for the powerbomb.
Ace: Look out Kendu!
Kendu rises up and sends Mariguano up over him, and Mariguano hits the mat behind him. Kendu then runs off the ropes and as he returns he jumps up in the air and comes down with a knee across the head of Mariguano.
Ace: Knee drop by Kendu after reversing that attempted powerbomb by Mariguano.
Kendu then scrambles over Mariguano and goes for the pin, not bothering to hook the leg, though he does dig a forearm into Mariguano's mask. El Toro slides to the mat and goes for the pin.
Ace: Pin by Kendu now! 1. . . 2. . . no! Kick out by Mariguano.
Kendu gets up and checks with El Toro, who flashes him two fingers. Kendu then slowly gets to his feet, falling backward and up against the ropes for support. He holds himself there as Mariguano gets up to his knees. Kendu then charges Mariguano and goes for the kick but Mariguano moves his head back, making Kendu miss. Mariguano then grabs Kendu's other leg and throws it forward, knocking it out from under him, sending him back first to the mat.
Ace: Kendu went for the kick but Mariguano ducked it!
Mariguano then covers Kendu, hooking the leg and going for the pin. El Toro slides to the mat and makes the count.
Ace: We've got a pin by Mariguano! 1. . .2. . kick out by Kendu! Both men seem to be going for the win here late in this match.
The crowd buzzes as Mariguano gets to his feet and makes his way over to the fallen Kendu. He grabs him by the hair and brings him to his feet. As Kendu gets to his feet Mariguano hooks him around the head and turns so that Kendu is behind him, the back of his head draped over his shoulder, and then Mariguano falls to the mat, bringing Kendu with him.
Ace: Swinging neck breaker by Mariguano!
Major Kendu sells the neckbreaker on the mat as Mariguano scrambles over to him and goes for the pin, hooking the leg. The crowd cheers in anticipation of the pin fall as El Toro slides to the mat for the count.
Ace: We've got a pin! 1. . . 2. . . NO! Kick out! Major Kendu kicks out!
Mariguano checks with El Toro, and El Toro shows him two stubby fingers. Mariguano sells his disbelief on the mat, reaching up to grab his mask.
Ace: Mariguano almost won that one! He was that close to advancing to the next round!
Mariguano gets to his feet as the crowd dies down and bends at the waist, grabbing Trevor Browning by the hair and bringing him to his feet. Mariguano then grabs Trevor Browning and pulls, forcing him toward the ropes.
Ace: Irish Whip by Mariguano--Trevor into the ropes now. . .
Trevor Browning hits the ropes and grabs the top rope, hooking his arms around it, preventing him from returning off the ropes. Mariguano then charges Trevor Browning and Trevor bends at the waist lifting Mariguano up and over the top rope.
Ace: Back body drop! But Mariguano landed on the apron! Kendu doesn't know it!
Mariguano stumbles away from the ropes as Mariguano waits for him on the apron. The crowd pops, expecting Kendu to really get his clocked cleaned here. Kendu turns around and Mariguano pulls himself up to the top rope before jumping off and hooking Kendu around the head in the crook of his arm and turning through the air, bringing Kendu head first into the mat.
Ace: Dios Mio DDT! Dios Mio DDT!
The crowd pops as Mariguano hops to his feet and raises his arms. Kendu sells the Dios Mio DDT and Mariguano points to the corner.
Ace: Uh oh, last time we saw Mariguano go for the Bongo Drop it ended badly!
Mariguano makes his way to the corner and pulls himself up to the top turnbuckle. He rises to the standing position, balancing himself by extending his arms. Mariguano then raises his arms and taunts the crowd, making them cheer even more.
Ace: Here he goes!
Mariguano leaps off the turnbuckle, flipping backward through the air and clenching his fists, extending his thumbs in the 'thumbs up' poistion and lands perfectly on Kendu.
Ace: El Bongo Drop!
Mariguano hooks the leg as the crowd pops, cheering the move. El Toro slides to the mat for the count.
Ace: This could be it! 1. . . 2. . . 3!! YES! Mariguano advances!
The crowd continues to cheer as El Toro signals for the bell and raises Mariguano's arm.
Ace: El Bongo Drop completed successfully! Mariguano has beaten out Kendu, giving him his first loss!
Mariguano rises to his feet and raises his arms in victory, as Kendu still sells El Bongo Drop. Kendu breathes heavily on the mat, and Mariguano looks down at him for a moment before making his way out of the ring.
Ace: Wolf? Hey Wolf? The match is over.
Wolf: Oh--what? Oh okay. Sure. Yeah. . .
Ace: Jesus. . . Well up next we have Cort Vang and Shane Jackson, of Cash Money. The winner of course will go on to take on Mariguano in the next round.
HENRY'S BAIL BONDS, LET US GET TO YOU BEFORE YOUR CELLMATE DOES.
We cut to Dark storming about the hallways of the Omega Omega house—or trying to storm about anyway—as he has refused to leave the keg behind and has strapped it to a dolly which he wheels behind him, knocking into furniture and college student alike with little concern for collateral damage.
Ace: It’s The Boss!
Tha Krew trail behind him, and Dark reaches a door and presses up against the wall nearby, as Wes Payton reaches the door, steps back and then kicks it in. We hear moans and grunts and see a drunken frat plowing away at some chick with his pants around his ankles. The frat fuck turns his head and smiles as we move onto the next door.
Ace: Hey go back to that!
Wolf: I knew you liked to watch. . .
Wes Payton kicks in the next door much like the last and this time we see Cort Vang in the center of the room twirl around.
Dark: Hey, you seen those Cash Money fucks. . . IM Hate?
Cort shakes his head and Dark and Tha Krew move on to the next door, and Wes Payton kicks it open but the room is empty.
Dark: Shit. . .
Dark takes a thoughtful drink from his beer, and scratches his head.
Dark: Shit boys I gots to piss. . . but we gotta find these bastards!
Dark and Tha Krew then make their way through the kitchen, filled with even more frat fucks and even a few chicks. Dark bustles past them and makes his way outside, Tha Krew and the poor cameraman following in pursuit.
Ace: Well it appears the boss is looking for Anarchy. . . Earlier we saw Johnny Cox get laid out. . . and all signs point to only three men.
Wolf: Ffuck Anarchy. Organized Anarchists. . . shiiet.
The crowd around the ring is well into their beer, and are occupied by Charlene, performing a little slutty dance for the crowd. Dollar bills float into the ring occasionally, and she stops her dance to scoop them up and stuff them in her bra.
Ace: Shake it baby! Come to The Row—where you get a show within a show!
Dark looks around and cannot find Anarchy anywhere, but he does notice The Disposal squeezing out of a port-a-potty on the grass.
Wolf: All that guy does is shit! Jesus.
Dark shrugs—might as well—and makes his way over to the porta-potty, ignoring The Disposal, who still sells an unsettled stomach.
Dark: One sec boys, I gotta piss like a race horse.
Dark closes the door and locks it, and the port-a-potty suddenly topples forward onto the door, and screams of horror erupt for the port-a-potty as Dark realizes he’s trapped in a hot box of shit!
Ace: Holy Shit! IM Hate just knocked over that Port-A-Potty! Dark is trapped!
Wolf: Those are the screams of a man in hell ladies and gentlemen.
IM Hate smiles, and Tha Krew rush him but are quickly attacked from behind by Cash Money, who, wielding beer bottles crack them over their heads.
Ace: Cash Money with a beer bottle attack!
Tha Krew fall to the grass in a shower of glass, and Cash Money and IM Hate begin to stomp the shit out of them. The crowd around the ring begins to notice the action and starts up a drunken cheer as Anarchy gangs up on the already fallen Krew members.
Ace: Anarchy has taken out Tha Krew! Dark is defenseless now!
Wolf: And trapped in a box of Disposal shit. . . I’ll drink to that.
Anarchy stops its stomping, and IM Hate barks an order to Cash Money. Shane Jackson and Jason Cruz then take Tha Krew by the arms and drag them away on the grass. IM Hate turns back to look at the port-a-potty, where Dark still screams in disgust and horror. IM Hate laughs and then walks away. . .
Ace: My God someone save Dark!
Wolf: I aint doing it!
Fade. . .
Cort Vang: [looking around, nervously] Look, bitch, I can't be seen chillin' with these frat mothers.-- My P.O will be up my ass like Keebler in a cookie crackhouse.
Cort is in one of the many rooms of the Omega Omega House (so many bedrooms in fact, you would think it was a brother) where a few beer-soaked frat boys have drifted off to. One of the kids, resembling Potsy from 'Happy Days' only less of a preppy putz, staggers around 'The One Man Misdemeanor' with a can of beer half gone.
Potsy: [slurry] Want some?!--
Cort Vang: [inadvertant high-pitch scream] No, mother fucker, my P.O is watching!
Cort's hand quickly slaps the beer out of Potsy's hand, whose droopy eyes bloodshottedly looked at his hand.
Potsy: Duuudeee.-- My beer. [sour belch]
Cort, never one to tell someone a second time, looks around to see who is paying attention. There's a game of beer pong going on out in the hallway and everyone seems drawn into the game and nothing else--no troubles there. In one corner of the room a frat head pukes his guts out, and then inspects the contents of his puke with great interest--no troubles there either. In fact there's no around to see a damn thing--but shit--fortunately for Potsy, Cort catches eye of a lone cameraman.
Cort Vang: [walking toward it] -- Been back here in this room with a bunch of piss-stained frat stains. This is exactly why I never went to college, because of guys like this!
Another Voice: [sloppily] And you can't read.--
Cort snaps his head around. All he sees is four drunks looking somewhat frightened and the door swinging to a close as the fifth drunk--more afraid than his friends--runs for the hills.
Cort Vang: Yeah, throw salt on a perfectly fresh wound, --- I'll just store it up real nice and tight and get all gung-ho crazy on 'Cash' Jackson. I'm looking forward to tonight, Jackson.--
Cort rubs his hands.
Cort Vang: Very much so. Because, you might be Anarchy, but me.--- I'm just straight-up the most death welcoming, Donation seeking, resilient mother fucker on the West Coast you'll ever find and not ever want find again. I'm going to be brief with this. -- It's time to wreck this bitch!
Cort takes several steps back, does a half-assed crucifix stance as the feed goes elsewhere.
Ace: Well, we’ve heard from Cort, now lets go to—hey. . . lookee here. . .
We cut to the announcers table, where Ace sits by himself. He is off looking in the distance, and his head turns as he follows whatever it is he is watching. Waylon Wolf passes in front of the camera, then passes it again in the opposite direction, before staggering at an angle toward the announcers table.
Ace: Jesus Christ, he’s drunker than a damn skunk. He better not be coming over here. . . oh Jesus he is. . .
Wolf collides with the table and smiles awkwardly at Ace.
Ace: Yeah hi. . .
Wolf then edges his way to the right side of the table and manages to sit down and sloppily put on his headphones. He talks but can’t hear himself, and looks confused before he realizes he has put them on backwards. He straights them up.
Ace: Wolf, you need to—
Wolf: Less’ get shummme pushy!
Wolf: Yeah, pushy! Pushy!
‘Crucified’ starts up through the stolen audio system, the frat boys rising up to toast with a beer. Soon will arrive one of the few men who has survived longer in The Row than any other—the One Man Misdemeanor, Cort Vang.
Ace: We have more tournament action here for you folks, with Cort Vang taking on non other than Shane Jackson.
Ace ignores Wolf, looking at the camera and smiling.
Ace: Shane Jackson of course is a member of Cash Money, who interrupted Cort’s match with IM Hate’s last Lethal Injection. . . Cort no doubt has revenge on his mind tonight. In fact he gets to kill two birds with one stone—he gets the opportunity to show Shane Jackson his place AND advance in the tournament, moving one step closer to the Death Row title and Seth Stratton.
We cut to the back door of the Omega House, where Cort Vang appears donned in his usual wrestling gear. He looks out on the frat fucks and then drops his head and raises his arms, mocking the crucifixion. He lifts his head with a smirk and then makes his way out onto the grass, as Crucified continues to play.
Ace: Cort Vang as you know, is learning to—
YOU CAN’T READ YOU CAN’T READ YOU CAN’T READ starts up, as the frat fucks chant in an effort to belittle Cort—though in truth none of them have read a book in many years themselves. Cort stops smirking and breaks out into a rage. He grabs his head and rushes the ring, the crowd parting for him. He slides into the ring and kicks the ropes, stomping around in anger.
Ace: These bastards are agitating Cort Vang—not a good idea if you ask me. He’s dumb enough to actually try and take on every last one of them!
Cort Vang settles in the ring as It Gets Me Through by Ozzy Osbourne starts up, forcing the crowd to let out a chorus of boos.
Ace: I’m surprised at these guys. They seem to know of Cash Money—either that or they can’t stand Ozzy Osbourne. . .
We cut to the back door, where Shane Jackson emerges with his Cash Money belt in hand. He looks out on the frat kids and smiles, raising the belt up in the air. It shames the Death Row belt in its opulence, the gold shining bright in the sun. Shane Jackson makes his way out to the grass and Jason Cruz appears in the doorway behind him.
Ace: Well here comes Shane Jackson, and it appears he’ll have some back up tonight, in Jason Cruz. I don’t think it has really set in that Anarchy is here in the Row, and here to stay. Watch your asses everyone!
Shane Jackson walks out toward the ring, with Jason Cruz following behind him. The frat boys make way for the two, and Shane Jackson reaches the ring first, putting one knee up on the apron and then getting to his feet. Jason Cruz climbs the steps and reaches the apron as Shane Jackson swings under the top rope and into the ring. Jason Cruz steps through the ropes after him and the two meet in the center of the ring to raise their Cash Money belts up in there air.
Ace: Cash Money still toying around with those belts of theirs—which of course are not recognized by The Row. These guys literally bought the belts! I can’t believe they’re still carrying around those things after losing to Fracture. . .
Charlene enters the ring, adjusting her dress and wiping some substance off her hand. She smiles seductively and raises the mic to her lips, painted a dirty red.
Charlene: Ladies and gentlemen. . . the following match is a tournament match, and is for one fall!
The crowd buzzes, and Charlene bends over to squeeze her boobs together. She raises back up and smiles, running a tongue over her teeth, cracked and stained from past crack use.
Charlene: Introducing first. . . from St. Helens, Oregon—funny he don’t look it—weighing in at two hundred and nineteen pounds, he is The one Man Misdemeanor. . . CORT. . . VANNNNNNG!
Cort raises his arms in mockery of the crucifixion once again as the frat boys salute the announcement with a drink of beer. Cort Vang then raises his head and drops his arms, looking straight across the ring at Shane Jackson.
Ace: Cort Vang has recently taken up collections with the Salvation Army! He’s trying to change for the better. I can’t believe this guy, he’s so unpredictable!
Charlene: And his opponent. . . being accompanied to the ring by fellow Cash Money member, Jason Cruz. . . from Ft. Wayne, Indiana, weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds, Shannneee. . . JACKSONNNN!
Shane Jackson shouts out CASH MONEY as the crowd rains down the boos. A few drink some beer anyway.
Ace: Well here we go folks, this one just about underway. Shane Jackson of course is more used to tag team action, we’ll see if he’ll be able to hold his own against Cort Vang.
El Toro raises an arm and signals for the bell. The bell rings out, El Toro turning to give Cort a dirty look for stealing the very same bell last Lethal Injection.
Ace: Well there’s the bell. . .
Wolf: Tha—tha-fffhucking son-of-bubbububub. ..
Cort Vang and Shane Jackson circle one another around the ring, the frat boys drinking heavily and well into drunkeness. GET ON WITH IT they shout and KICK HIS ASS and other such rot.
Ace: Well the crowd getting a tad rowdy here, Wolf. . . Wolf?
Wolf passes out at the announcers table.
Ace: Well there goes Wolf. Nighty night Wolfie.
Meanwhile, in the squared circle, Cort Vang and Shane Jackson lock up in the center of the ring. Each man struggles to gain the upper hand and Cort Vang raises Shanes arms upward before kicking him in the knee, dropping him to his knees.
Ace: Kick by Cort Vang after the power struggle.
Cort Vang steps back a lays a swift kick up against the head of Shane Jackson, the shot ringing out and the crowd popping. Shane Jackson goes limp and falls to the mat, selling the kick.
Ace: WHAT A KICK BY CORT VANG! He nearly took his head off with that one! And listen to these 'students'--they're loving it!
The crowd still buzzes from the kick as Cort Vang makes his way over to Shane Jackson and bends at the waist, grabbing a handful of hair. Cort pulls Shane Jackson to the seat position and then grabs him around the head, draping an arm across the throat.
Ace: Rear Headlock here by Cort Vang--not particularly known for his ground game, but he's going for it anyway. Perhaps this guy is learning more than just how to read!
Cort wrenches the hold and raises his free hand and brings it down across the head of Shane Jackson as he releases the hold. Shane Jackson falls to the mat, grabbing his head, selling the punch.
Ace: That's more like it--quick punch there by Cort Vang, and from the looks of Shane Jackson, a stiff one too.
Cort Vang then gets to his feet and quickly drops down with an elbow across the chest of Shane Jackson.
Ace: Elbow drop by Cort!
Cort Vang gets to his feet once more and again quickly drops down with yet another elbow across the Shane Jackson.
Ace: And another!
Cort Vang then scrambles over to Shane Jackson and hooks his leg, going for the pin. El Toro hits the mat to make the count.
Ace: Quick pin here, 1...No! Kick out there by Shane Jackson.
Cort Vang gets to his feet and stomps Shane Jackson several times before bringing him to his feet. Shane Jackson rises with a punch to the face of Cort Vang, which he ignores and throws a punch of his own in response. Cort Vang then grabs Shane Jackson by the arm and goes for the Irish whip.
Ace: Irish whip here by Cort--No! Reversal.
Jackson turns and keeps the hold, Irish whipping Cort Vang into the ropes instead. Cort Vang hits the ropes and as he returns he rolls forward and comes up with an stiff arm across the chest of Jackson, knocking him to the mat.
Ace: Rolling Lariat by Cort Vang! He had all that momentum built up into that one!
Jason Cruz trash talks Cort Vang from outside of the ring and Cort makes his way over to the ropes to talk down to him.
Ace: Shut up Jason! Jesus Christ a guy gets a little money and he thinks he can just run everything . . . aint that how it always goes?
Meanwhile Shane Jackson slowly gets to his feet and as Cort Vang turns around Shane Jackson charges him, hitting with several lefts and rights.
Ace: Shane Jackson with the offense now.
The punches work Cort Vang into the corner, and Shane Jackson switches to stomps, stomping Cort Vang in the gut, each blow causing him to bend at the waist.
Ace: Cort Vang caught in that corner now, Shane Jackson stomping away at the gut.
Shane Jackson then takes his foot and raises it up, placing it against the throat of Cort Vang, and using the top rope he pushes his foot up against the throat, cutting off the windpipe.
Ace: Shane Jackson choking Cort Vang now! That big boot of his cutting off the air flow! And Jason Cruz ringside approves—the rich bastard.
El Toro counts in the corner, Uno. . . Dos. . . Tres. . . Shane Jackson brings his foot down and Cort Vang falls to the seated position and sells the choke in the corner. El Toro gets up in Shane Jackson's face warning him about the choke, and as his back is turned Jason Cruz creeps over to Cort Vang and chokes him in the corner.
Ace: Cash Money in full effect now! Dark should have foreseen this and banned Jason Cruz from this match! It’s bad enough Johnny Cox has been injured—who do you think did it? Cash Money has evolved into two of the rottenest bastards here in The Row.
Cort Vang kicks his feet, his tongue sticking out as he sells the blatant choke by Jason Cruz, who releases the hold just as El Toro turns around. El Toro makes his way over to the corner to investigate--as something seems fishy here--and he turns to give Jason Cruz the dirty eye.
Ace: That’s right Toro! It was Jason! Get that punk out of here! He has no right to be down here tonight—of all matches this is a tournament match God damn it!
Shane Jackson makes his way over to the fallen Cort Vang and grabs him by an ankle and drags him into the center of the ring. Shane Jackson then drops to his knees, instructing Toro to hit the mat before he hooks the leg. El Toro complies and goes for the count.
Ace: We've got a pin! 1. . 2--kick out. Not enough there. Cort Vang is still in this match--though it seems like he's taking on both members of Cash Money here--the damn bastards.
Shane Jackson gets up and checks with El Toro, but turns away before the little man can even inform him of the two count. Shane Jackson stands over Cort Vang, who crawls to the corner on his belly. Shane laughs and then picks up his foot, eyeing Cort's hand and brings it down right across his fingers.
Ace: Shane Jackson stomping the fingers of Cort Vang now. That’s a damn good way to break a finger!
Cort Vang sells the stomp wringing out the injured hand in question and grimacing. Cort Vang tries to crawl again and again Shane Jackson raises up a boot and brings it down on Cort's digits.
Ace: And another stomp to the fingers of Cort Vang—Shane Jackson is actually enjoying Cort’s punishment!
Shane Jackson laughs once more before grabbing Cort Vang around the chin and forcing him upward to his feet. Cort Vang gets to his feet and Shane Jackson grabs him by the arm, tossing him toward the ropes.
Ace: Irish whip by Shane Jackson—off goes Cort.
Cort Vang hits the ropes on the other side of the ring and returns toward its center, where Shane Jackson stands with an arm extended. Cort Vang collides with the arm and falls backward to the mat.
Ace: Clothesline by Shane Jackson!
Shane then drops to the mat after the clothesline and turns Cort over onto his stomach. He then straddles Cort's upper back and hooks him around the chin and pulls backward, applying pressure to the head and neck.
Ace: Shane Jackson locking in a mounted face lock—he’s got all his weight on the back of Cort Vang. I don’t know how Cort is going to get out of this one.
Shane wrenches the hold, pulling upward with his teeth gritted as El Toro bends at the waist and raises a sympathetic hand in Cort's face, asking him if would like to submit. Cort Vang cries out in response and shakes his head.
Ace: Cort Vang in a bad way, but the stubborn bastard just won’t submit!
The crowd buzzes drunkenly as Shane Jackson keeps the hold, leaning back so far he looks like he could snap Cort Vang in half if he really wanted to. El Toro continues to check with Cort Vang, who repeatedly shakes his head despite the cries of pain.
Ace: We respect you Cort, really we do. You’re one of the few original members of The Row left—no need to permanently injure yourself to prove something! This is hurting me just watching it!
Cort Vang reaches up for the ropes but he knows he can't possibly reach them, and instead reaches toward Shane's head grabbing his hair.
Ace: AH! Cort Vang with a handful of hair! This punk is vicious—he’s going to make Shane Jackson ugly!
Cort Vang lets out cries of pain from the face lock, and Shane Jackson cries out as Cort Vang pulls the hair of Jackson, losing his hold as tuffs of hair come out.
Ace: He’s done it! And you thought only chicks pull hair—well you’re wrong, only chicks and Cort Vang pull hair!
Shane Jackson releases the hold and stands up, bringing his hands up to his head as for spots. He finds a good one and instantly frowns. He looks around at the crowd and becomes angry.
Ace: And Shane Jackson has realized it—and he does not like it! Hey don’t worry guy—you can hardly notice them two bald spots!
Shane Jackson stomps his way over to Cort Vang, who has once again crawled onto his belly in an effort to reach the ropes. Shane Jackson stomps him in the small of the back and Cort Vang cries out, going limp.
Ace: Shane Jackson letting out a little aggression on Cort Vang now! Stomping the fallen man here on the mat.
Shane Jackson stomps him again, again, the rage filling him--THE BASTARD THE SAVAGE BASTARD RIPPED MY HAIR OUT! He stomps away and Cort Vang lays there on the mat taking all of them. When Shane tires of the stomping he bends at the waist and grabs Cort by the head, bringing him to his feet.
Ace: Shane brings Cort to his feet after the mugging. . .
Shane Jackson kicks Cort in the gut, causing him to bend at the waist and then hooks his head under his armpit and falls backward, bringing Cort's head to the mat.
Ace: DDT! DDT by Shane Jackson after the kick to the gut!
Shane Jackson then turns and covers Cort Vang, hooking his leg and pulling Cort into a folded position, his legs over his head. El Toro slides to the mat and goes for the official count. The crowd revs up in anticipation of the pinfall.
Ace: Pin now by Shane Jackson after that DDT! 1. . . 2. . . NO! Shane Jackson almost advanced to the next round after that one.
The crowd dies down as Shane Jackson turns to check with El Toro, who shoves two fat fingers in his face. Shane Jackson pounds the mat once and gets to his knees before getting to his feet. He looks around at the crowd in dismay as Cort Vang slowly pulls himself to the ropes in the corner of the ring.
Ace: Shane Jackson cannot believe it—but meanwhile the match is still going on. Cort trying to get to his feet now in the corner of the ring.
Shane Jackson makes his way over to Cort in the corner, who is now bent over, about to stand up. Shane Jackson reaches him and Cort Vang rises up with a strike to the throat.
Ace: What a palm strike by Cort Vang, right to the throat of Shane Jackson. You know that’ll hurt a guy, a chop to the Adam’s apple like that.
Shane Jackson sells the blow, reaching up and grabbing his throat, bent over and trying to breath. Cort Vang makes his way out of the corner and grabs Shane Jackson by the head, tossing him into the corner he had just occupied.
Ace: Shane Jackson stuck in the corner now. . .
Cort Vang faces Shane Jackson and leans back, taking an arm and moving it back and across his body. Cort Vang then brings the hand forward, chopping it against the chest of Shane Jackson. The shot rings out and the crowd pops.
Ace: Knife edge chop by Cort Vang! Did you hear that one?!
Cort Vang leans back and chops Shane Jackson once again, this time the sound produced even louder. The crowd pops.
Ace: In case you didn’t, here’s another! What a chop by The One Man Misdemeanor!
Cort Vang chops him a third and final time and Shane Jackson sells the chop as Cort Vang steps back and plants a kick up against the head of Shane Jackson.
Ace: Sick Kick by Cort Vang! My God what a shot!
Shane Jackson stumbles comically out of the corner of the ring and falls flat on his face in the center of the ring. The frat fucks let out a chorus of drunken laughs and applause as Cort Vang makes his way to the corner.
Ace: Shane Jackson is dead in the ring after that one—but what is Cort doing now?
Cort Vang turns his back to the corner and grabs the top rope behind him, propping himself up to the middle rope. Cort Vang perches there, waiting as Shane Jackson slowly tries to get to his feet.
Ace: Cort Vang not much of a high flyer, but nonetheless, here he is perched on the second rope!
Jason Cruz lets out words of warning, words Shane Jackson apparently cannot hear, for he gets up to his feet, huffing and puffing, and as he turns toward the corner Cort Vang jumps off the middle rope and catches Shane Jackson in the abdomen with spear to the gut.
Ace: VANG TERMINATOR! This one could already be over folks! Cort Vang can already sense the next round! And I think these fans can as well—listen to these drunken bastards!
The crowd pops as Shane Jackson sells on the mat, bent over and grabbing his abdomen. Cort Vang gets to his feet and raises his arms and the frat fucks show their appreciation by raising their cups and taking a sip.
Ace: What a move that was ladies and gentlemen. If we had replay capabilities we’d go back to that one, but alas we do not.
Cort Vang makes his way over to the fallen Shane Jackson and brings him to his feet.
Ace: Cort Vang could be going for a move he calls Death is Welcome, and if that’s the case this one is over ladies and gentlemen!
Cort Vang hooks Shane Jackson by the head under the arm and then takes his arm and flips it over his head before grabbing Shane Jackson by the tights and lifting him.
Ace: Yes! Yes! He’s going for it! Death is Welcome bitch!
Cort Vang lifts Shane Jackson up and over into the air, but Shane Jackson lands on his feet and pushes Cort Vang. Cort Vang goes belly first into the ropes and comes back and Shane Jackson hooks him around the waist and using his legs lifts him up and over his head, sending him to the mat behind him.
Ace: German suplex by Shane Jackson! He just barely got out of Death is Welcome! Talk about cutting it close ladies and gentlemen, Shane Jackson was just a hair away from being out of this tournament for good!
Cort Vang sells the German suplex, lying on his side on the mat and grabbing his lower back. Shane Jackson is a few feet away from him sitting on his ass and looking dazed. El Toro looks around and starts up the count.
Ace: Both men dazed here. . . it appears that German suplex was an act of desperation by Shane Jackson. He’s feeling the fatigue come upon him now.
Uno. . . Cort Vang continues to sell, as Shane Jackson looks around. Dos. . . Shane turns over onto his knees and crawls toward the ropes, grabbing the bottom rope. Tres. . . Shane grabs the middle rope and pulls himself up, as Cort Vang slowly gets to his feet. Cuatro. . . Shane Jackson pulls himself to his feet and turns toward Cort Vang, who is now on his feet. Cort Vang quickly kicks Shane Jackson in the gut causing him to bend at the waist.
Ace: Cort Vang with the kick to the gut of Shane after struggling to get up.
Cort Vang then turns Shane Jackson around and hooks him around the chin. Cort Vang promptly falls forward to the mat, Shane Jackson hitting the mat with him.
Ace: Reverse DDT by Cort Vang! This match has been back and forth, back and forth ladies and gentlemen.
Cort Vang falls on top of Shane and stays there, El Toro sliding to the mat for the count.
Ace: We’ve got a pin now by Cort—to tired too hook the leg. . . 1. . . 2—kick out! Shane Jackson kicks out of the near pin fall. You can really get the feel that this is an important match for both of these men. Both exchanging blows, neither letting up, now this is a match ladies and gentlemen—this is a match!
Cort Vang slowly gets to his feet as the frat fucks die down, taking a moment to drink even more beer. Cort Vang looks to the crowd almost in disgust and then lowers at the waist and raises Shane Jackson up to the seated position.
Ace: Cort Vang getting creative here. . . Where’s he going?
Cort Vang then takes off for the ropes Shane Jackson is facing and he turns as he hits the ropes, the bounce sending him back toward Shane Jackson. Cort Vang reaches Shane Jackson and raises up a knee, connecting and making a sickening sound as Shane Jackson falls backward toward the mat.
Ace: What a sound! What a sound ladies and gentlemen! Cort Vang just took Shane Jackson out with a charged knee to the skull! Jesus fucking Christ!
The blood thirsty frat fucks let out a cheer of approval as Cort Vang taunts them with the crucifixion pose he's so found of. Shane Jackson sells on the mat, hardly moving and breathing heavily.
Ace: And Shane Jackson is up Shit Creek without a paddle! He’s not moving!
Cort Vang turns his head, as Jason Cruz is jabbering at him, and Cort Vang responds with some shitting talking of his own.
Ace: Jason Cruz, once again getting involved in this match. . . kick him out Toro! Fuck this asshole!
Jason Cruz then hops up on the apron and Cort Vang approaches him, going for a high kick over the top rope. Jason Cruz blocks it and then grabs Cort Vang by the head before dropping to the ground, bringing him neck first against the top rope.
Ace: Jason Cruz guillotine’s Cort Vang over the top rope! This is truly Cash Money vs. Cort Vang right now!
Cort Vang comes off of the rope and turns toward the center of the ring, staggering and grabbing his throat and coughing. His eyes grow wide as Shane Jackson comes up from the kneeling position with an arm extended, bringing it across Cort's already bothered throat, knocking him to the mat.
Ace: Lariat by Shane Jackson now! And Cort is down!
Shane Jackson then turns and covers Cort Vang, hooking the leg and pinning him to the mat. El Toro, disgusted that he doesn't have the opportunity to chew out Jason Cruz, drops to the mat and goes for the count.
Ace: Shane Jackson with the pin—we could have a winner here—1. . . 2—kick out! Cort Vang kicks out!
Shane Jackson gets up on his knees and checks with El Toro, who shakes his head and shows two fingers. Shane Jackson snarls at the result and then gets to his feet, grabbing Cort Vang by the head and bringing him to his feet.
Ace: Both me up now after the near pin fall.
Shane Jackson keeps his left hand on Cort’s head and reaches back with his right and brings it forward, clocking Cort Vang in the jaw. The blow knocks Cort Vang back, and Cort returns with a right of his own.
Ace: Both men exchanging hard rights now!
Shane Jackson ups the pace, throwing two left jabs and gaining the upper hand. Shane Jackson grabs Cort Vang by the arm and Irish whips him into the ropes.
Ace: Cort Vang into the ropes now.
"TED CRUZ IS THE ZODIAC KILLER"
- Kentucky Tarzan