LIVE! Someday on PPV!
From the OCW Arena!
There ain’t no video package for this one, folks. Our video operator took a better paying job months ago. And, by better paying...we mean it paid something, rather than nothing.
So here we are...cutting straight into the first OCW Pay Per View since that wonderful excursion in North Korea known as Redacted. And, while technically both shows ARE categorized as Pay Per Views...that’s where the similarities end.
OCW is hurt. It’s wounded. It’s damn near dead. HOW DEAD? So dead that Welsh struck a deal with Zybala for an undercard featuring Outsiders vs. Onliners. What’s at stake? Well, we’re not entirely sure.
All we REALLY know is that THE JUDGE and Sara Syren are headlining this event inside THE BUBBLE for a defunct OCW Title. Which title will Welsh choose? That remains to be seen. But, I’m told its the most hated, loathed, despised title in company history.
The stream is about to start, fans. You’re gonna have to pony up a bit of dough if you wanna watch. A few bucks for the entire thing, I believe. So, cough up the money...you might regret it...BUT, I can guarantee you’ll witness a wrestling event unlike any you’ve seen before.
I’m being told fans...yes, actual FANS...are gathering inside the OCW Arena for this one. It’s nice to have them back...ya know, fans who pay rent so they can live under a roof. Actual, functional members of society.
Unsure how much it costs for them to attend this show. But, they are here...not much social distancing going on, from what I can tell. But that’s okay...I’m sure OCW took the proper measures in ensuring everybody passed a scan before entering.
OCW is back, baby! For how long? Who knows. This could be the final show for years to come...or the start of many more. Regardless, take the opportunity to enjoy the Madness.
Infection starts in 5...4...3...2…
~BOOM! We cut straight to the OCW Arena! Indeed, fans have gathered! We’re about half full with a steady stream of locals continuing to enter. We cut to a familiar face...it’s Smith! He’s back! Alongside Smith is Hood! OMG! The tried and true...professional announcers have returned...seated at their old position. It’s beat up and dirty...blood stains are everywhere...but its serving its purpose, finally~
Smith: Hello again everyone and welcome to Infection! I hope you’re all as happy to see me as I am to call the action to you guys, once again...under the OCW banner.
Hood: Fingers crossed that check clears.
Smith: I’m sure it will.
Hood: I don’t know, it has Zybala’s name on it. That’s never a good sign.
Smith: Mike Zybala, Outsiders owner, donated some of his hard earned cash to get me, Hood, and Belvedere all back inside this amazing arena. I’ve managed to catch up on what’s taken place and, dare I say...it’s been, special.
Hood: You can fuckin say that again. Holy shit the lineup tonight reads like something an 8 year old might book.
Smith: It is unique, Hood. But there’s nothing wrong in calling something different.
Hood: Half these matches aren’t even taking place inside the ring. Hell, most of them won’t require any wrestling.
Smith: If you haven’t already guessed, fans...tonight’s theme is leaning heavily into the Infection theme. We’re going to have some fun with several of the key terms, situations, and obstacles people all over the world have had to endure over the past year.
Hood: Hey, nothing is more OCW than poking fun at a worldwide pandemic.
Smith: But, at the end of the evening...we get serious. A match to decide the first OCW champion since 2019 when Mack O’Connor defeated Mike Best for the OCW Title at Redacted in North Korea. THE JUDGE will take on Sara Syren inside THE BUBBLE for…a title.
Hood: Apparently I hate this title...that’s what the narrator guy said, anyway. Trying to remember which one I really hated...I mean most of them sucked, aside from the OCW Title.
Smith: I personally loved all the titles this company has featured.
Hood: Of course.
Smith: Fans...before we get to the action, let’s cut to GM Welsh’s office where he’s standing by with his personal aid, Greg...and Who’Re...who, if you ask me, really held this place together over the past few weeks.
Hood: You WOULD say that.
~We cut to Welsh’s office. Who’Re is seated. Greg leans against the door, arms folded. Welsh paces around...he looks very sober and, thus, very angry. He’s got a sheet of paper in one hand and a closed fist in the other~
Marcus Welsh: Holy shit, whore! I trusted you! And you took advantage of me!
Who’Re: I did not, sir. I merely did what I thought you’d think was best.
Marcus Welsh: Look at this shit, whore! LOOK AT IT! A TRUST THE SCIENCE MATCH? An ULTIMATE VAX MATCH? This is the most ridiculous lineup in the history of pro wrestling. You’re making a mockery of ME and MY fed.
Who’Re: Well, technically those were Zybala’s ideas.
Marcus Welsh: Don’t get lippy with me, whore. You’re the one who got me so liquored up that I managed to agree to all of his dumb ideas. I’d argue that a signature under the influence isn’t binding but...well, I’d rather not deal with the law these days...for reasons.
Greg: Don’t forget about when she let that Syren woman into the tournament.
~Who’Re turns, mouth agape...staring at Greg. He looks down on her, shaking his head. Welsh explodes~
Marcus Welsh: He’s right! You just jumped in and let some monster like SARA SYREN into the tournament? Don’t you realize this was all SET UP so that Kool Aid Man or Coke Guy would reach the finals? Sponsorships, whore! We need them!
Who’Re: I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.
Marcus Welsh: There isn’t much else you can say, whore. You fucked up. You tried to steal my company from me and got caught. Well, now it’s time you learned your lesson.
~Welsh nods at Greg. He approaches, handing Who’Re a couple of pasties and the tiniest thong in the history of clothing designed to give men boners at the beach~
Who’Re: You can’t be…
~Welsh grabs Who’Re by her chin and yanks her head upward in violent fashion~
Marcus Welsh: You WILL wear that and parade around the ring like one of those vapid, talentless ring girls before each and every match OR…
~We aren’t really sure what the OR is...but it’s enough for Who’Re to sniffle, nod her head, take the skimpiest of outfits and exit...to accept her punishment. We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Disgusting. That man is taking it out on the one person who kept this place running just because he didn’t have enough strength to stay sober.
Hood: Hey, at least we’re guaranteed some in-ring excitement!
Smith: Ugh...I think I’m gonna be sick. Fifteen minutes back and the misogyny is already at an all time high.
Hood: Blah blah...go watch a Sarah Twilight promo.
Smith: I’d rather not. Instead...let’s toss it to the ring for our first match of the night...it’s called a Mask Up Match!
Hood: Hmm
Smith: The first person to put a mask on their opponent...wins.
Hood: And who are the competitors?
Smith: Y2James and Tony the Spider
Hood: Who could forget Y2James and that night Scott Syren turned his face into road kill via a running treadmill?
Smith: A horrific memory burned into my brain. But don't forget about Tony the Spider!
Hood: If only I could.
Smith: Infection is about to get started...buckle up, fans...this show will be one of a kind!
Y2James vs. Tony the Spider
~We cut to the ring. Y2James is in one corner, shying from the camera. His face is scarred and mangled from that infamous night when Scott Syren bashed and pressed it into a treadmill running a full speed. Tony the Spider stands in his corner, giggling~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen...welcome to Infection! Tonight’s opening contest is a Mask Up Match! In order to win you must secure a mask over your opponent’s face! Introducing first...last seen having his face destroyed by Scott Syren in a weight room match back in 1999...Y2James!!
~Y2James doesn’t seem too thrilled that Belvedere brought up the most painful memory of his life...but he manages to throw an arm into the air, recognizing the random cheers and occasional ‘woo’~
Belvedere: And his opponent...first discovered inside Emilio’s Garage. He is an original Outsider...ladies and gentlemen...he is the one, the only...Tony the Spider!!!
~HUGE ovation for Tony the Spider. This ¾ full OCW Arena finally pops! He bounces around, laughing. His bright yellow fanny pack is secure...we all know there are some cheetos in there...only question is whether or not any of them are FLAMIN HOT. Belvedere exits. Scruff hands each participant a mask...Y2James is given one with the ONLINE OCW logo. Tony the Spider is handed one with the Outsiders OCW logo. The bell sounds~
Smith: Tony the Spider actually garnered some acclaim in GCWA...winning the TV Title.
Hood: Why do you always have to bring up horrible memories. One of the worst nights in wrestling history.
Smith: Because it is a fact.
Hood: Well, I don’t like either of these guys...they both totally suck...but pulling for anything connected to Zybala should be considered treason and a crime against humanity so...I’m going with Y2James.
Smith: Y2James was a promising newcomer back in 1999...until he ran into Scott Syren.
Hood: A pretty common theme in the old days. Just ask Hunter McKay.
~Y2James charges at Tony, mask in hand. Tony stands in his corner and laughs. Y2James leaps into the air...Tony laughs and dodges. Y2James slams into the buckles. He turns around, holding his stomach. Tony giggles and throws a kick into Y2James’ belly. He reaches forward, looking to apply the mask but Y2James shoves him away with one hand. Tony continues to laugh~
Smith: If there’s one thing you have to admire about Tony...it’s that he gets genuine enthusiasm out of this business.
Hood: Whatever. He’s probably got that same condition the Joker has. Impulsive laughter or whatever.
~Y2James spins around, looking for a roaring elbow...Tony ducks! He reaches from behind, while laughing, grabbing the back of Y2James’ head...he slips the mask over the top of his head...but Y2James breaks away! He hits the ropes...bounces off and drops Tony with a shoulder tackle! Tony hits hard...but he continues to laugh. Y2James hits the ropes again...he bounces off and hops into the air...he doesn’t get very high off the ground...but manages to hit tony with a leg drop. Instinctively he goes for the pin, but Scruff reminds him of the stip...so he takes his mask and tries to force it on Tony’s face. Tony struggles, fighting him off...while laughing~
Smith: Y2James showing flashes of the promise he once had twenty years ago when he was...younger.
Hood: And more athletic...dude barely got up on a fuckin leg drop.
Smith: Adrenaline is flowing! He’s in front of a live crowd...there’s no Scott Syren in sight. He’s feeling it!
~Y2James is like “Why are you laughing? Are you laughing at ME? At my FACE? You think Syren doing this to me was FUNNY?!” He pummels Tony with right hands...Tony continues to laugh. Y2James grows obsessed with covering his mouth, using the mask. Tony waves his chubby hands at the mask, fighting it off before rolling away, to the ropes. Y2James struggles to his feet...showing that his legs don’t have much spring in them. He looks around at the crowd...up at the lights...he soaks it in...he’s back in the spotlight...he begins to feel younger...he hops around on both legs, feeding off the energy~
Smith: Y2James getting a shot of that youthful elixir.
Hood: The mind can do a lot of things. But it can’t do everything.
Smith: That is true.
~Tony pulls himself up, in a very sloppy but tony-esque manner. He turns and laughs, staring at a very pumped up Y2James. Tony continues laughing, running at Y2James with his mask. But Y2James scoops Tony up and slams him into the mat, hard!! Tony tries to laugh, but the wind has been knocked from his lungs. Y2James looks out into the crowd...he points at the ropes. The fans are like, “Well, sure, I guess. We don’t really know who you are, though.” Y2James claps his hands together~
Smith: He’s going for a lionsault!
Hood: Ah geez
Smith: A move he hasn’t performed in over twenty years!
~Y2James takes off...he hits the ropes...he springs off the middle rope and flips over...but he doesn’t make it all the way. He lands right on top of his head, spiking into the mat. The fans are all like “HOLY SHIT.” He goes limp onto the mat...his left arm twitching a bit~
Smith: Oh my gosh! We need help out here.
Hood: What a fuckin idiot. Guy’s got about as much life in his legs as a comedy club crowd when Alice Knight has a live mic.
Smith: Hey!
~Tony sits up, laughing. He crawls over...rolls Y2James on his back. He slides the Outsider mask on, securing it. The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner of the first-ever Mask Up Match...representing Outsiders Championship Wrestling...TONY THE SPIDER!!!!!
~Tony stands. He reaches into his fanny pack and takes out a mixture of regular, white cheddar, and flamin hot cheetos, tossing them into his mouth as a victory snack. Belvedere tries to interview him~
Belvedere: Tony...any words on your victory here tonight? How did it feel to make history becoming the winner of the first Mask Up Match in pro wrestling history?
Tony the Spider: hahahahahaha!!!
Belvedere: Well, I think that says it all. Back to Smith and Hood.
Smith: Tony the Spider puts Outsiders up 1-0 over Online. A great start for Zybala.
~We cut to Zybala’s office in the back...he’s among the competitors...not too arrogant to have his station placed way above everyone else. He’s clapping his hands, highfiving some of the Outsider competitors who didn’t make tonight’s car~
Smith: It was a few short years ago when Outsiders was the laughing stock of the Key West wrestling community. So far beneath OCW they weren’t even an afterthought...but, tonight, they have a chance to topple the mighty Online Championship Wrestling inside their very arena.
Hood: It might be a good night to start doing massive amounts of heroine.
Smith: I’d advise against it, Hood. Let’s see how our current GM, Marcus Welsh is reacting to the opening match result.
~Welsh is storming around his office. He kicks at some trash. He slams his fists into his already pretty much destroyed desk. Greg stands back, bringing a hand to his throat, looking on with awe, fright, and lust~
Marcus Welsh: Who told that fuckin middle aged man that’s been locked up in a cage for twenty years that he could fly around like he’s Ed fucking Houston, eh? WHO?
Greg: I think he just got caught up in the rush.
Marcus Welsh: Yea? Well he can enjoy the rush of being tossed back into his fucking cell. Piece of shit loser!
~Welsh rips up a match banner featuring Y2James and Tony the Spider...he slams the shreds onto his desk and spits on them. Palms flat, he catches his breath...a tall task for a man who’s been pounding the bottle like a frustrated husband pounds a cheap prostitute~
Marcus Welsh: This is all that whore’s fault, Greg. She liquored me up. Suckered me in. She’s working with Zybala, I know it. If I lose control of this company because of her...I’ll...I…
Greg: Relax, Marky. It’s just the first match.
Marcus Welsh: You’re right. Zybala’s guys got lucky. We’ll get the next one. I’ve got faith in...whoever our next wrestler is.
Smith: And that wrestler would be Clubbin Man, Hood.
Hood: Hey, at least that guy won a few matches...twenty something years ago.
Smith: Indeed he did. He’s most notable for an incident that took place inside a night club back in 1999.
Hood: Ah, yea...I remember.
Smith: He didn’t like the way some guy was dancing...also hated his shiny, silk shirt. So, he went up to him and scooped his eyeball out with a spoon.
Hood: He did do that.
Smith: It was a move that appalled fans and promoters. It also impressed Scott Syren so much he invited him to join BUFF.
Hood: Syren has always had an eye for talent.
Smith: Clubbin Man disappeared shortly after that. We all thought he got arrested for...mutilating an innocent person. But, turns out, he found his way into the OCW dungeon for classic jobbers.
Hood: Well, he’s free now.
Smith: Free to pick up his first win in over twenty years as he faces...Titan Fore.
Hood: Who?
Smith: Some guy from Outsiders. He wears a mask and plays golf.
Hood: Ohhhkay. What’s the match?
Smith: An Escape the Shame Match.
Hood: That doesn’t explain a whole lot.
Smith: Let’s send it down to Belvedere for further insight!
Clubbin Man vs. Titan Fore
~We cut to the employee lot of a local Wal-Mart. The SLAM BUSS makes its first appearance in ages. For those unaware...it looks like this~
~The back doors open revealing Titan Fore and Clubbin Man. Both sans COVID mask. They hop out. Belvedere, from within the OCW Arena, shouts out the rules...they lean in close to a cheap Chromebook to hear what he has to say~
Belvedere: This is the first-ever Escape the Shame Match! In order to win you must make it through the entire store without being shamed for not wearing a mask. The first person to do so...wins!
~Fore and Clubbin Man nod...saying “Sounds easy enough”~
Belvedere: Introducing first...representing Online Championship Wrestling...a former member of BUFF…he’s most known for scooping a gentleman’s eye out with a spoon while at a popular club on a friday night back in 1999. He is...Clubbin Man!
~Clubbin Man does a few dance moves~
Belvedere: And his opponent...representing Outsiders Championship Wrestling...he plays golf...he wears a luchador mask...don’t ask me anything else because I got nothing for ya...he is...Titan Fore!
~Titan Fore takes a swing with his golf club. It looks…okay. Clubbin Man nods, giving him a round of applause. We pull out to see Welsh watching from inside his GM box~
Marcus Welsh: What..the..FUCK. He’s already got a fucking mask on. What the shit is this?
Greg: Calm down, Marcus. Your blood pressure...when it gets high your bowels become irritable.
Marcus Welsh: Oh be quiet, Greg. The fix is in and I’m beginning to realize it. I’M FUCKED.
~We focus back on the Wal-Mart parking lot. The back doors are opened. A bell sounds. Titan Fore and Clubbin Man enter~
Smith: And here we go!
Hood: Gotta side with Welsh...kinda fucked up to have a match where guys have to sneak around without masks on featuring a guy who wears a mask.
Smith: Yes but it’s a luchador mask...not a covid mask.
Hood: Dude. This is the state of Florida. People were walking around with trash bags over their heads. Like they even care to understand the fuckin difference.
~Our camera follows Fore and Clubbin Man. They emerge from the stock room into the actual store...around aisles loaded with cleaning supplies. They split. Titan Fore heads in a straight line. He passes by several people...they kinda look at him with a ‘that’s a strange mask but whatever’ look. He is looking pretty good. Clubbin Man finds the electronics section and takes a look at some of the newest PS5 games~
Smith: Clubbin Man meandering a bit.
Hood: I’m starting to remember how fuckin stupid this guy was.
~Clubbin Man feels a few stares. He drops a game and exits, quickly, making his way toward the front of the store. Titan Fore cuts through an aisle with cereal boxes. He’s about halfway through the store. Clubbin Man is walking at a brisker pace...he’s almost caught up. He spots a woman looking at clothing for a child…which is in a stroller next to her. Given he’s Clubbin man, it’s in his nature to give her a shout~
Smith: Oh boy. He’s going to hit on that mother who is shopping for the infant that is in the stroller right in front of her.
Hood: Hey, you never know unless you try.
Smith: I think we all know how this is going to turn out.
~Clubbin Man, who is also carrying a vodka tonic in his hand, throws his head in her direction. “Sup babe.” She tries to ignore him. “So, ya buying something for your nephew...niece?” A hard roll of the eyes, “No, for my kid. The one that’s right there. The one I had with my husband.” Clubbin Man is feeling very lucky, “Yea, but I don’t see him around...do you?” This doesn’t exactly work...she responds, with great contempt, “Are you drinking ALCOHOL in here?” That’s Clubbin Man’s cue to leave. He darts off, quickly, leaving the woman alone. But...he’s still in the race. Fore, meanwhile...is nearing the registers~
Smith: If Clubbin Man would stay focused...I think he’d win.
Hood: Don’t get me started. Not only is he a dumbass...but Fore has a clear advantage.
~Titan Fore nears the self checkout line...thinking it’ll be easier to slip away. A throat suddenly clears. He pauses. Spinning around...a super judgmental person with a shirt that says “I love Twitter” is standing behind him, arms folded. “Excuse me...but is that mask regulation?” Fore doesn’t know what to do...he’s frozen. He’s in danger of being SHAMED~
Smith: Uh oh...Titan Fore is in trouble!
Hood: You have got to be kidding me. If Outsiders lose this one...I...I don’t even know. It would be a testament to how everything Zybala touches falls apart.
~Clubbin Man sees Fore about to get shamed. Victory is close...but so is a woman in her mid-twenties, looking at some Wal-Mart lingerie. This must mean she’s easy, right? Clubbin Man darts in to action. “Yo, what’s up, babe?” She’s appalled, “Excuse me?” Clubbin Man takes a sip of his vodka tonic, “Just seeing if you’re down for some fun.”~
Smith: And he’s at it again.
Hood: I mean, it’s not the worst idea in the world to hit on women inside a store….but not when you’re dressed like THAT...or carrying a drink.
~She’s trying to ignore Clubbin Man...he continues to throw down the pick up lines. Fore, meanwhile, realizes he’s one comment away from getting SHAMED. Both are working quick to get...somewhere. Clubbin Man goes in for the kill, “So, just so ya know, I once scooped a guy’s eyeball out with this spoon right here...yea, so, ya know, just means I’m an alpha dog who doesn’t put up with any shit.” The woman’s head slowly turns...her eyes as big as coasters...she sees the spoon...it’s old and stained… “EXCUSE ME?” Clubbin Man thinks he’s golden, leaning up against the wall of lingerie, feeling some of the lace. “You heard me, babe.” The woman has heard enough, “And are you not wearing a mask? Are you breathing all over me without a mask?” Clubbin Man, “Babe, who needs a mask when you got these pearly whites.” She screams at the top of her lungs, “THIS MAN IS BREATHING ALL OVER ME WITHOUT A MASK!” Titan Fore’s potential shamer turns toward the noise...Fore uses this distraction to hit the guy over the head with his golf club before turning and storming out of the store...he dives through the automatic doors, landing hard on the pavement outside. We hear a bell ring~
Belvedere: Here is your winner of the first ever Escape The Shame Match...TITAN FORE!!!!!
Smith: Titan Fore has won! A match he should have won easily...but a match that Clubbin Man, somehow, let slip away.
Hood: That dude is so fuckin stupid.
~People surround Clubbin Man. “WHERE’S YOUR MASK?” they ask, very aggressively. Someone shouts out, while standing over the man Fore cracked in the head with a golf club...he’s bleeding all over the floor. “Look! I think he breathed on this guy and gave him some weird disease that is makin blood come out of his head!” Clubbin Man tries to reason with the mob...but they get angrier and angrier. “Where’s your compassion? Where’s your humanity? Don’t you care about lives?” Finally, they jump on him and begin to beat the ever living shit out of Clubbin Man. We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Clubbin Man may wish he were back in the OCW dungeons after that match.
Hood: You have to admire those compassionate people inside that Wal-Mart. Literally beating ass in the name of humanity.
Smith: He just can’t let go of that spoon and eyeball story. Had he left that out...the woman may not have been so offended.
Hood: That’s literally the only story he’s got, Smith.
Smith: True...and now Zybala is up 2-0 on Welsh.
~Zybala high fives Cori Haim...the one armed member of Outsiders. It’s kinda awkward cause he goes for her missing arm...but she manages to spin around and connect. All is going right for the Outsiders tonight! Meanwhile, we cut to Welsh and Greg. Welsh collapses to both knees, pounding the floor with his fist~
Marcus Welsh: Why...WHY...WHY?! Why am I always surrounded by idiots of the highest...or, well, lowest class?
Greg: Just bad luck, Marky. But there’s still time. That one was stacked against us anyway.
Marcus Welsh: It’s getting dark, Greg. We might need to come up with a new strategy...something to trick Zybala. He’s gullible, right? We used to make him look stupid all the time, right?
Greg: I think so.
Marcus Welsh: Okay. Think up something special...a fail safe in case the unthinkable takes place and the Outsiders defeat the Onliners.
~Greg nods. Welsh rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He reaches around and finds a bottle...but it’s empty. He curses, “Of course.” He throws it through the opening...we hear a loud shatter followed by some poor fan shrilling in pain. We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: We’re going to need medical attention for that fan.
Hood: Crazy how accidents happen.
Smith: Indeed. Sounds like our soon-to-be ex-GM is devising a new plan.
Hood: Well, I mean...if he wants to keep this company he’s going to have to rely on something...anything other than the retards on parade.
Smith: Perhaps. But there are still quite a few matches remaining...including the next match. The first ever...Stimulus Match!
Hood: Does this mean we all get paid?
Smith: Not exactly. Just be thankful you’re getting something for doing this show.
Hood: True.
Smith: I’m not sure what a Stimulus Match is, fans. But I can shed some light on the competitors. First we’ve got El Presidente. He made his one and only OCW appearance at Revenge in 2015. He’s the president of some nation nobody has ever heard of...it might be called El Latina. But I’m not sure. Anyway…he’s been locked away for 6 years...freed, now, to represent his people and maybe earn his first OCW victory.
Hood: Sounds like he did more work over the past 6 years than any major US politician.
Smith: And then there’s Mr. Welfare himself, Guy Cashe. 6 kids with 7 different women...Mr. Cashe spends every dollar he makes on booze, drugs, gambling, prostitutes, and pokemon trading cars. When he isn’t hitting up his next baby mama on Facebook he’s usually drag racing his 1999 mustang along the mean streets of Central Florida. Guy Cashe likes to be called Florida Man 1.0 but, in reality, he’s just another deadbeat. However, tonight, he’s got a chance to earn some money which...hopefully, will go to feeding some of his 6 kids.
Hood: I mean...could we ask for two more epic competitors? President of a fictional company and a deadbeat dad? This should be one for the ages.
Smith: Let’s head down to ringside for the rules AND the match.
El Presidente vs. Guy Cashe
~We cut to the ring. Who’Re is prancing around in basically nothing with a sign that has ‘Stimulus Match’ written in magic marker. She looks very sad and embarrassed. Men of all ages whistle and cat call...it’s quite humiliating. Belvedere looks on, feeling bad. She exits...he clears the throat containing his golden voice~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen...it is now time for the Stimulus Match! The first person to find the Stimulus Check and enter the ring with it will be declared the winner! Introducing first…
~El Presidente stands in his corner looking very serious and contemplative. He must have the country of El Latina squarely on his mind~
Belvedere: He captured OCW’s hearts when he joined on that magical January evening of 2015. He let us all down when he was quickly done away with in the first and only Sub Zero Match. Then, we never saw him again. No clue on what happened to his nation...the unknown and unchartable ‘El Latina’ during his absence. But I’m told he’s eager to return and continue ruling as El President. Fans...representing Online Championship Wrestling...El Presidente!!!
~El Presidente drops to one knee and points his finger in a random direction yelling, “El Latina!” The fans clap~
Smith: El Presidente, I think, pointing in the direction where his country is located.
Hood: Yea. Sure.
Belvedere: And, his opponent...he handed me a self written introduction but I’d rather not turn his words into words coming from my mouth. He represents Outsiders...he is...Guy Cashe!
~Guy Cashe rolls his eyes and throws his hands at Belvedere. Dude doesn’t take too much seriously or too heart. How could he? Belvedere exits and the bell rings. Cashe tosses a kiss at a middle aged woman near ringside...she seems to like it. El Presidente hops out of the ring, searching for the Stimulus Check. The woman warns Cashe...he’s like “Oh shit, MONEY!” He dives through the ropes~
Smith: And they are searching...both starting under the ring. A logical place.
Hood: I honestly don’t know who to pull for...I guess El Presidente. Since he reps Welsh.
Smith: El Presidente needs the money for his people, Hood. Cashe is going to just spend it on himself.
Hood: El Presidente doesn’t HAVE any people, Smith. That country doesn’t exist!
Smith: How do you know?
Hood: El Latina? C’mon. I’m not even sure that’s grammatically correct.
~Cashe and El Presidente are both under the ring, searching. Their legs sticking out. Before too long...they’re both completely under the ring. It’s kinda quiet. Kinda strange. We all wonder what’s going on down there. Before too long...they emerge...Cashe popping out on Presidente’s end and Presidente popping out on Cashe’s end. Both rise, empty handed~
Smith: Ships passing in the night.
Hood: Any longer down there and I would have started to wonder.
Smith: I don’t think the president of a nation would risk getting caught in that kind of controversy, Hood.
Hood: Oh for the love
~Cashe doesn’t let an opportunity go to waste...he hops around ringside, checking the cleavage of every woman within reach. Some of the men accompanying them get upset...but Cashe laughs at them and backs away where he can’t be reached. El Presidente, meanwhile, searches quite aggressively for the cash. He looks under and in between the steps...around ringside. It seems hopeless...until he spots a top turnbuckle that appears a little loose~
Smith: I think El Presidente might be on to something!
Hood: Yea, meanwhile Cashe is on to everything, literally.
Smith: I’d like to see him eat a knuckle sandwich.
Hood: Whatever you say, gramps.
~El Presidente hustles up the steps and works on the turnbuckle. He gets it loosened enough to reach in. He pulls out…THE STIMULUS CHECK!! The crowd pops. Guy Cashe turns toward the noise and sees the check. He yells out “MONEY!!” He sprints forward, spearing El Presidente off the top ring step, onto the ground. Quite impressive for an Outsider. The check flies into the air. Cashe rolls onto his back and extends his arms, hands opening and closing, eager for that check to fall into them...but, at the last moment, its snatched away...by a giant, dirty looking fan. Cashe pops up, yelling, “What the fuck, bro?” The guy takes the check and stuffs it down the front of his pants...Cashe jerks back, grossed out~
Smith: Okay. So now a fan has obtained the Stimulus Check and decided to...shove it down the front of his pants.
Hood: What a wild crowd, am I right?
Smith: This night just keeps bringing the weirdness.
~El Presidente rises, holding his ribcage. Cashe explains what just happened. El Presidente begins to beg for the check...he talks about his country and how they need the money. Cashe fights back, begging for the check...citing his six kids and how they need new clothes and shoes and jewelry. That last part doesn’t sound very believable. The dude responds, “If you want it bad enough, reach down here and get it.” Cashe and El Presidente exchange weirded out looks~
Smith: Can we get the check from that guy? He’s ruining the match!
Hood: The match was ruined when the stip was created.
Smith: You may have a point.
Hood: This dude is just trying to get a hand job. Question is...who’s willing to give it?
~Cashe and El Presidente eke closer. They look down at the man’s crotch. He smiles and says, “I haven’t showered in three days.” Cashe dry heaves. El Presidente shakes his head and says something in spanish~
Smith: One man has six kids that are probably underfed and underclothed. The other man claims to be president of a very poor country and could use the money to do...something. Who is willing to arouse this tall, gross man for their cause?
Hood: I mean...it’s gotta be Cashe, right? Kids over a fictional country.
Smith: Yea, but has he EVER done ANYTHING for those kids? Seems like everything he does is for himself.
~Cashe gets a whiff of some dick cheese and is like. “Fuck that, them kids can go get a fuckin JOB.” he turns and walks away. The fans boo. El Presidente turns and points in a different direction than before...but it serves the same purpose...he yells, “For El Latina!” He dives into the guy’s pants and digs around. The tall, gross man rolls his eyes into the back of his head and smiles. El Presidente yanks and pulls and yanks and pulls and finally rips the Stimulus Check free!! The crowd pops! The gross man falls back into his chair...a cigarette is instantly smoldering in his mouth. He smiles and says, “That was great.” El Presidente marches up the steps in triumph. He walks along the apron. He drops to one knee and holds the check in a third different direction, yelling, “For El Latina!”~
Smith: He certainly is proud of his country.
Hood: Just so you know...he’s pointed in three totally different directions.
Smith: He may be a little off. That was a tough spear he took.
Hood: Or that fucking country may not exist.
~El Presidente is on cloud nine. He feels great...until the bottom of his stomach explodes. Guy Cashe knees him from behind, right in the nut sack. El Presidente lets out a high pitched yelp. He drops the Stimulus Check and falls off the apron, slamming hard on the outside. Guy Cashe snatches the check and rolls into the ring. The fans BOOOOO. Cashe pops to his feet, holding the check high. The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner...GUY CASHE!!!!!
Smith: Ugh, that dirty, no good Guy Cashe.
Hood: Hey, you gotta hustle if you wanna make a dollar. El Presidente took his foot off the brake a little too early.
Smith: I guess.
Belvedere: And I’m here with Guy Cashe. Mr. Cashe...what do you plan on doing with this money? Is any of it going to one of your six kids?
Guy Cashe: First of all, it’s Guy. You ain’t gotta call me Mr. Cashe. Nice fancy suit ya got on there. But hey, look it. I’M RICH, BABY! All you women out there and you hot ass bitches at home...you all saw how Guy Cashe does it. Come on and meet me at Applebees once this is over. Closest one to this here arena. Drinks are on me!!!
~Cashe exits the ring, celebrating like he just hit the lotto. Belvedere shakes his head, staring into the camera. We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: I’m not sure why I expected any different.
Hood: Guy Cashe will always be Guy Cashe.
Smith: More importantly...Zybala is now up 3-0!
Hood: Geezus...is it over?
Smith: Almost. Online has to run the table in the remaining three matches to even the score. Then, I don’t know, maybe they’ll make some deal for the Main Event.
~Backstage, Zybala is throwing SUPERKICKS into the air. Outsider legend, Husky Harris is finishing off a bowl of wings, orange sauce all over his face. He gives Zybala a thumbs up, talking about how excited he is to return to action inside the OCW Arena. We cut to Welsh who collapses to the floor, once again. This time on his back...sick over what’s transpired. Greg rushes in, applying a moist tall to his forehead~
Greg: Marky! Marky! Are you okay?
Marcus Welsh: I don’t think so, Greg. I’m about to lose this company to Zybala. I need a drink.
Greg: No, Marky...no! You need to dry out.
Marcus Welsh: And live SOBER within a world where Zybala outsmarted me? NO THANKS
Greg: The drinking is what led you here, Marky. That dirty whore...she pumped you full of vodka.
Marcus Welsh: Yea, I suppose so. But, still, I don’t think I can handle taking an ‘L’ to Zybala sober. You need to come up with a plan, Greg. Otherwise...once we lose that 4th a decisive match...I’m getting blind fuckin drunk.
Greg: Okay. Okay. I’ll come up with something.
~Greg scurries to come up with a plan to save his beloved Marcus Welsh. We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: The inevitable is bearing down on Marcus Welsh. Mike Zybala is about to best him and take this company over.
Hood: I don’t know why he’s so upset. This place is a shit hole, anyway.
Smith: It’s got prestige, Hood. A spark...could light a fire which could become ablaze, creating an inferno. Some kinda Big Bang situation.
Hood: Yea, right. Who’s gonna lead us there, Smith? One guy is a depressed the drunk and the other guy is Mike Zybala.
Smith: Well, I can’t answer that. But what I can say is that our next match is yet another unique, one of a kind offering. It is a Social Distance Match featuring Da Boom and Pennylord!
Hood: I kinda remember Da Boom. But who in the living FUCK is Pennylord.
Smith: Da Boom...another legendary OCW jobber. He joined OCW back in 2000 as a wide eyed, excited young man. He won a few matches...against jobbers more legendary than he is. Then, he decided to open his own promotion.
Hood: Ah shit, yea, I remember this idiot.
Smith: His promotion was open for one glorious evening and featured one glorious match. A ladder match. The bell rang...the three competitors ran for the ladder...then a loud BANG sounded and they were all on the mat. Yet, there was a winner. The first and only champion of Da Boom’s promotion...a man named The Pebble.
Hood: Apropos.
Smith: Da Boom and his iconic promotion vanished. Nobody knew where...until tonight...he was apparently abducted and thrown into the OCW dungeon.
Hood: No doubt Dean was worried Da Boom’s promotion would overtake his. Had to eliminate the competition.
Smith: That, or OCW knows elite jobber material when they see it and don’t want to let it go. Either way, he’s back!
Hood: And the other guy?
Smith: Pennylord is merely Outsider legend, Lord Allton in Pennywise makeup. I can’t say this for sure because I don’t really know...but I’d imagine that when the makeup comes on, he means business.
Hood: That or he’s prepping for a drag show.
Smith: Yea, I doubt that. Anyway...these two are set to do battle in the first ever Social Distance Match! Let’s head to outside the arena for the encounter!
Da Boom vs. Pennylord
~Da Boom hops around atop a platform. It’s situated six feet away from a second platform where Pennylord rolls up a ramp, getting situated. Both men are handed sticks for jousting. Pennylord, in full disguise, has a red balloon attached to his chair. Belvedere’s voice booms through speakers which are surprisingly functional after all this time~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen...it is now time for the first-ever Social Distance Match! These two competitors are on platforms that are six feet away from each other. Their goal is to knock the other person off their platform. The first competitor who does this...wins!
~Da Boom hops around, violently atop his platform. Pennylord just watches Da Boom with a menacing, patient gaze~
Belvedere: Returning to a wrestling ring for the first time since that one fateful night when his promotion held its first and last show featuring a ladder match that ended abruptly with no real explanation or discernible flow...he was always known for being super excited about pro wrestling, even if the excitement was often misguided and uncontrollable...he represents Online Championship Wrestling...welcome back...Da Boom!
~Da Boom spins his jousting stick around...he nearly loses control of it~
Belvedere: And his opponent...the Lord of Outsiders. Donning the paint for this very, special evening...Pennylord!
~The bell sounds. Da Boom gets in position. Pennylord maintains his equanimity...posture is poised...glare, sinister. Balloon, floating innocuously in the air, or so it seems~
Smith: And here we go!
Hood: Bringing back some American Gladiator memories.
Smith: I mean, kinda.
Hood: Yea, kinda.
~Da Boom is experiencing some medieval times mental flares...poking and swinging, spinning...all kinds of maneuvers that feel a lot cooler than they look. All of them have one thing in common...totally ineffective. Pennylord watches...far from amused. But he isn’t really making any effort to engage with Da Boom~
Smith: Da Boom may tire himself out before any contact is made.
Hood: Why does Pennylord have a red balloon?
Smith: Ambiance, I think. Adding to the creep factor.
Hood: What, the makeup and wig wasn’t enough? He needed a balloon, too?
Smith: Don’t ask me. I just work here.
~Da Boom is already becoming fatigued. He doubles over, gasping for air...he nearly loses his joust. Pennylord rubs his chin, surveying the situation. Da Boom stands upright, leaning back, sucking wind. He yells, “DO SOMETHIN!!!” But Pennylord will not be drawn in~
Smith: Da Boom is finding Pennylord’s demeanor more than a little abstruse.
Hood: Not sure what that means...but if it means confusing, then I agree. However, Da Boom can’t be all that chapped about it...given the one match his fed offered the world.
Smith: Indeed.
~Da Boom yells, “FUCK THIS SHIT” and slings his joust at Pennylord...a drastic attempt at making something happen. The joust misses Pennylord...but it does hit his balloon...severing the string keeping it attached to Pennylord’s chair. The balloon begins to float in a very strange, unnatural manner...toward Da Boom~
Smith: The balloon is free!
Hood: And it’s heading straight for Da Boom!
Smith: All Da Boom has to do is avoid any...uhh...damage from said balloon.
~Da Boom sees the balloon heading right at him. He braces, “Bring it on, balloon!” The balloon floats...it wiggles in the air...appears to have a mind of its own. It reaches Da Boom...Da Boom throws a few punches...they miss, wildly. Air from the errant punches cause the balloon to thrust forward, into Da Boom’s face. Da Boom yells out, “Ahhhh!!!” He stumbles back...our feed cuts out for a second...when it cuts back in, he’s mysteriously on the ground. The balloon is floating away, into the sky. The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winnner...PENNYLORD!!!!!
Smith: And, in a moment fit for whatever he called his strange promotion...Da Boom faced struggle...the feed cut out...and when it cut back in, he was inexplicably down with the match having reached its end.
Hood: Classic Da Boom
Smith: Meanwhile, Pennylord wins in dominant fashion. And, by dominant, I mean he won without flexing a literal muscle.
Hood: That fuckin balloon.
Smith: Many tricks up Penny’s sleeve. He notches the fourth and decisive win for Outsiders.
Hood: I’d wager tonight’s pay that Welsh is hitting the bottle.
Smith: The only solace for a broken man about to lose the final item of note he has.
~We cut to Zybala. He’s fist pumping. He points at the TV screen, yelling several superlatives at Pennylord. Super happy he gave the guy a shot in Outsiders...as though anybody ever gets cut from the place, but still. Soot Losem enters...he flashes a cheesy smile and extends his arms, “I guess my invite got lost in the mail?” Everybody inside Zybala’s office guffaws...Losem does some kinda weird motion with his shoulders, icing on his comedic entrance, we suppose. He steps in and high fives Zybala...it’s all happiness and glee...meanwhile~
Marcus Welsh: It’s over, Greg. IT’S OVER
Greg: I’m working on an idea, Marky.
Marcus Welsh: I mean...their guy didn’t even have to move...and he STILL won. Are the Outsiders that improved or...are have we fallen THAT far?
~Greg dares not answer that question. Instead, he hands his phone and a note to Welsh. Welsh reads the note, wiping away a tear. He dials the number~
Zybala: Yes?
Marcus Welsh: Mike! Hey, it’s your buddy, Marcus.
Zybala: Buddy?
Marcus Welsh: Haha...yea, that’s right. You know all those times when it seemed like I was picking on you..it was merely tough love. Like an older brother.
~Zybala has no comment~
Marcus Welsh: But, hey, listen...how about...to keep things interesting, we make this next match a double or nothing scenario.
Zybala: Double what, exactly? You gonna give me two OCW’s if I win?
Marcus Welsh: Uh. Er. Well. Ya know.
Zybala: I’m just screwing with ya, Welsh! Sure...that sounds fine to me. I’ve got full faith in my Outsiders.
Marcus Welsh: Really? Wow. Well, hot damn. Alright!
~Welsh hangs up without a ‘thanks’ or ‘you’re a great guy’. He’s back in the game! Slapping his hands together, he pats Greg on the back~
Marcus Welsh: Great idea, Greg. And that idiot fell for it. If we win this match, he’ll receive no deal from me. Alright...here we go...who we got?
Greg: Looks like it’s the Ultimate Vax match.
Marcus Welsh: Is that like it sounds? Who’s our guy?
Greg: Scoot Time (Welsh kinda yelps at the sound of that)...and...Liljungleman.
Marcus Welsh: YES! He can climb...he’s from the jungle. YES! We got this, Greg. We so fuckin got this!
~We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Well, you heard it, fans. The Ultimate Vax match. You must fully vaccinate your opponents to win. Each corner will have a vaccine. Moderna will be in two corners...Pfizer in the other two. Hanging above the ring...via the center of an ‘X’ will be the Johnston and Johnson shot. Only one injection of this shot is required...so, harder to retrieve, but a quicker path to victory.
Hood: Finally, Welsh’s team has an advantage.
Smith: So it would seem. Liljungleman...born from the jungle. He was first seen eating brains from someone’s skull. That, like so many other historically weird and vile moments in OCW’s history, snared the attention of Scott Syren. He took Liljungleman under his wing. Liljungleman would go on to win the OCW TV Title. Since...he’s remained at Syren’s side.
Hood: They’ve had some grand times together, Smith.
Smith: And his partner...Scoot Time. What more needs to be said? If there were a Mount Rushmore of OCW jobbers...Scoot’s face would be represented four times. He’s the king of all jobbers. His two biggest in ring moments were when someone tripped and fell out of the ring during a Rumble...the elimination was award to Scoot because he was the person nearest the fall, giving him his one and only win of his career. His second...losing the first and only Whack Off Match in OCW history when he was unable to control his loins for longer than 10 seconds...ejaculating all over the ring. Scott Syren, it should be noted, was the victor in that match.
Hood: No Limits 2. My all time favorite PPV.
Smith: Well, that certainly is an opinion. Their opponents...JAM G...otherwise known as Just Another Masked Guy. He’s short. He’s scrawny. His in ring repertoire is extremely lacking. But, he wears a mask.
Hood: Cool.
Smith: And his partner...the great and powerful...Uber Man! Uber Man, living with his aunt, picks up money that he hopes to spend on Alice Knight by driving his tiny, green Uber car. He’s also a super hero...when the situation calls. He pissed of Josie Barnes on numerous occasions and attempted to emulate CJ O’Donnell’s picnic. He’s also done many other things. A true Outsider’s legend.
Hood: I mean, with a lineup like this...you could argue that Uber is Matt fucking Meyhu.
Smith: Indeed...let’s head down to ringside for what could be the match of the night!
Liljungleman & Scoot Time vs. JAM G & Uber Man
~Who’Re parades around the ring in her slutty outfit. More cat calls and whistles. She steps out, increasingly humiliated. Belvedere steps forward, eyeing the four men in the ring. Duct taped at the top of each post is a syringe. Hanging from the top of the ring are two syringes. If this doesn’t seem like enough without some form of error taking place...it isn’t. But, don’t worry, via the magic of OCW...they will be replaced...if need be. The four competitors are ready to go~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen...it is now time for the Ultimate Vax Match. In order to win you must effectively vaccinate BOTH members of one team. The first team to do this...wins! Introducing the first team...two legendary jobbers...they have been roaming the mean streets of OCW the past twenty years at the side of OCW’s greatest legend – Scott Syren. One man eats brains...the other eats mat...they are Liljungleman and Scoot Time!
~A strong ovation for the two most infamous names in OCW lore~
Belvedere: And, their opponents...representing Outsiders. He’s random. He’s far from special. He’s super ordinary. But, he wears a mask...ladies and gentlemen, he is Just Another Masked Guy! And, his partner...what else needs to be said? He loves Alice. He fights crime. And he helped rid OCW of its purple curse...he is...The great and powerful UBER MAN!
~HUGE ovation for Uber Man. Scoot seems betrayed. Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: Alright! We are underway!
Hood: Literally have no idea how this is gonna go.
Smith: It has great potential.
Hood: I mean...I guess. Kinda like giving a great story idea to a writer with no arms, or eyes...or a brain, for that matter.
~JAM G points at Scoot. Scoot points back. The crowd yells, “YOU!” They charge at one another...and lock up! But they both fall to the mat. Down. Kinda anticlimactic. Liljungleman leaps onto the top buckle in his team’s corner...he starts to scale the cable, leading to the ‘X’. Uber hustles to grab a Pfizer shot. The Duct Tape is too strong for one Uber hand...so he uses both...places his feet on the middle buckle and kicks off...breaking it free! He tumbles head over heels...the shot flies through the air...it comes down and impales JAM G in the arm! Uber sees the calamity and yells, “NO!” JAM G reaches for his arm~
Smith: Uber has accidentally given JAM G one half of his Pfizer treatment!
Hood: Fuckin figures. Given the four names in there...to be the biggest fuck up is quite an achievement.
Smith: This isn’t over yet!
~JAM G rolls into his team’s corner, yanking the shot from his arm. Uber crawls forward, trying to apologize. JAM G is cool with it. Liljungleman swings overhead, toward the J&J shots. Uber pops to his feet and snares one of the Moderna shots...again, it takes every ounce of strength to rip it free...he tumbles backward, head over heels...coming to rest on his ass next to Scoot Time. He jabs Scoot with the shot...but his leather suit is too thick. Uber has to stab harder. But he doesn’t wanna hurt Scoot. JAM G dives in, grabbing the Moderna, holding it up high and bringing it down with deadly (as far as he is concerned) force...stabbing Scoot in the shoulder. They celebrate...but it doesn’t last long. Liljungleman lets out a feral cry, seated atop the center of the X above the ring. He slings a J&J shot down...it hits Uber right in the neck!! He falls over, holding his neck in pain~
Smith: Scoot Time has received half of the Moderna treatment! Meanwhile, Uber Man is completely vaccinated...having been hit by a J&J needle via an excellent throw from Liljungleman.
Hood: Well, all I can say about this is...at least they aren’t wasting any time.
Smith: That they are not.
~Fully vaccinated, Uber Man knows he’s immune to any more shots. So, he tells JAM G to hide. As he does, a J&J needle spears the mat next to them. JAM G nods and crawls toward his team’s corner, hiding under the bottom buckle. Uber Man stumbles around...he gets hit with a J&J needle in the calf. Another one in the back of the knee...but he manages to snare a second Moderna shot. Stumbling around, perhaps feeling kinda woozy...he stands over Scoot...his eyes roll back, he falls forward but is able to (accidentally) jam the Moderna shot into Scoot’s other shoulder. Scoot is now laying atop the mat with needles sticking out of both shoulders. Uber is down...his convulses a bit. He’s got a ton of medicine coursing through his body~
Smith: Well, that can’t be healthy.
Hood: Speaking of healthy...Scoot is fully vaccinated. All Liljungleman has to do is hit JAM G with one of those J&J needles.
Smith: Yea, but he keeps throwing them at Uber Man.
Hood: Hey, nobody ever accused Liljungleman of being some kinda genius.
~Liljungleman...perched above the ring with an unlimited supply of J&J needles...hurls them like tiny spears at JAM G. He uses the bottom buckle to great effectiveness...the needles miss him. Barely. One impales the buckle which is situated right in front of his face. We can’t see his full expression, but his wide eyes show signs of panic. He remains still. Frozen in fear. Liljungleman cries out, “AKJHDAALKHALKJF!!!” He slaps the cables in frustration...he grabs a bunch of J&J needles and throws them down at the mat...Uber and Scoot get hit...but JAM G remains safe. Liljungleman pops to his feet and dance atop the cables, chanting, cursing...and calling to the gods~
Smith: Liljungleman is losing his patience.
Hood: He should just swing down there and stab JAM G.
Smith: That might be his most effective course of action.
~Liljungleman’s wild dancing causes his foot to step on and break a J&J needles...the cable becomes slippery. He loses his balance and falls, yelling, “ohwhoawhoaohwhoa!!!” He SLAMS into the mat, hard! Rolling over, we see several J&J needles sticking out of his ass. The bell suddenly rings~
Belvedere: Here are your winners of the Ultimate Vax Match….JAM G AND UBER MAN!!!!!
Smith: Another win for Zybala!
Hood: Fuckin JAM G hiding in a corner turned out to be a winning strategy.
Smith: Indeed.
Hood: Well, at least all those guys are safe from COVID
~JAM G emerges...he throws his arms in victory and dances around. He quickly grabs another Pfizer shot, sticking it into his arm...he leans back and is like ‘feels good man’. He then exits the ring. Medics rush in to check on Liljungleman, Uber Man, and Scoot Time...they don’t look so good...given the amount of vaccine that has entered their bodies in such a short amount of time~
Smith: Too much of anything is never good.
Hood: Dude’s may need a vaccine from the vaccine.
Smith: Indeed. Well, Zybala is up 5-0 on Welsh. They have one match remaining...does Welsh have an ultimate trick up his sleeve?
~Zybala leans back in his chair, telling jokes...the entire room is filled with Outsiders. His latest yard is ripping strong. So much so that CHECKERS, slaps the desk and rolls around, holding his tiny monkey tummy from laughter. Zybala’s phone rings...he motions for everybody to be quiet...all the while stymying his own laughter. He picks it up~
Zybala: Zybala speaking.
Marcus Welsh: Mike? Buddy? It’s Marcus. I was wondering if we could do...triple or nothing? Ya know, keep the people interested. In the name of OCW...(swallows hard) both OCWs.
Zybala: Triple or nothing?
~Zybala covers the receiver as everyone in the room starts to laugh. Once composed, he returns to the call~
Zybala: Normally I’d take my winnings and party...BUT...we’ve got our premier star up next...The Janitor. So, sure...BUT...instead of tripling something you can’t even double...how about if I win this next match I get OCW and you become my butler.
~Cutting to Welsh, we see him smash a glass bottle of premium vodka that must have been consumed months earlier...when he had some cash. He takes the top, jagged portion and holds it like a weapon. Greg tells him to calm down. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath~
Marcus Welsh: Sh….Sure, Mike. We can do that.
Zybala: Great doing business with you, Welsh.
~Zybala hangs up the phone. His room roars with laughter. Back in Welsh’s office...he stares at his wrists and the bottle. Greg shakes his head~
Greg: Marky. What are you doing?
Marcus Welsh: I should just end it all, Greg. Even if I do somehow win this last match...I’m a failure. A total loser.
~Greg stands and puts his arm around Marcus. Their heads rest against one another. He takes the jagged, upper half of a vodka bottle, tossing it outside. We hear some fan yell, “HOLY SHIT! I’VE BEEN STABBED! AHH!”~
Greg: Relax, Marky. I’ve got a plan. By the end of the night Zybala will be choking instead of laughing. I promise.
~Marcus gives Greg a curious look...but does find some solace in his words. We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Dark times for Welsh. However, it does sound like Greg is confident in...some type of plan.
Hood: Behind every successful man is a powerful Greg. Or, so they say.
Smith: Yes, so they say. Regardless...Zybala has put it all on the line, once again, for this final undercard contest between Gavin Reed and Peter Vaughn.
Hood: Still can’t believe Gavin Reed isn’t dead.
Smith: Yes, Gavin Reed...primary investor and quasi GM of OCW back in the spring of 2014. He seemed to perish when a light fixture fell, randomly, from the ceiling...crushing him. This all happened around the same time The Great One, his client, was abruptly fired from the company.
Hood: Totally weird and not at all a coincidence.
Smith: And his opponent...Outsider legend, Peter Vaughn. Peter Vaughn is to Outsiders what Scott Syren, Lurrr, and Matt Meyhu were to Online Championship Wrestling. The face. The icon. The backbone of the promotion. It’s only appropriate that Zybala and Outsiders future hinges upon his success.
Hood: Can’t believe the guy is being spoken of like he’s some kind of legend. HE’S A FUCKING JANITOR.
Smith: Let’s head down to ringside...which has been cleaned up in record timing, for this penultimate clash!
Gavin Reed vs. Peter Vaughn
~Who’Re finishes parading around the ring. Vaughn shakes his head, disgusted over what Welsh is making her do. Gavin Reed tries slipping her some ten dollar bills, acting like he’s a high fuckin roller. She ignores the money and meekly takes a seat, using her sign to cover most of her body up. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen...the following contest is a Trust the Science Match! The first person to lose faith in science...loses! A local ‘scientist’ will read ‘facts’ about COVID. Once he deems a participant has lost faith...a winner will be declared. Introducing first…
~Gavin Reed approaches his podium. He ignores the ‘scientist’...who looks like some dude that spends a ton of time on social media reading approved medical posts. He also has expensive glasses~
Belvedere: He is most notable for managing The Great One. A light fixture fell on his head...but he survived. He helped fund OCW for two months back in 2014. He is pompous...he is arrogant...he thinks he’s the smartest guy in the room...he is...Gavin Reed!
~Gavin Reed pounds his podium yelling, “I am smart!” Belvedere is like “Sure, okay.” He turns toward Gavin’s opponent~
Belvedere: And, his opponent...he is an Outsider’s legend. He has single handily carried the promotion on his back. He is a super efficient Janitor who comes at a reasonable price. Ladies and Gentlemen...give it up for Peter Vaughn!!!
~HUGE ovation for Vaughn. He seems to be the biggest star of the night, thus far. He shakes hands with the scientist, saying, “I respect what you do. So much.” The scientist nods. Vaughn stands behind his podium. The bell rings~
‘Scientist’: We do not know exactly where COVID came from. The idea it was created in a lab in Wuhan, China is borderline xenophobic and far from provable.
Peter Vaughn: Absolutely.
Gavin Reed: Well, I mean...it DID start over there and they do have those weird fish markets with all kinds of…
‘Scientist’: Excuse me, sir. But are you doubting the science?!
Gavin Reed: Uh, no. Absolutely not. What you said is correct.
‘Scientist’: I thought so. Ahem...onto the second fact. Staying inside decreases the risk of contracting COVID. Even if you’re in a crowded apartment complex in New York City. You must stay inside.
Peter Vaughn: I mean, makes sense to me.
Gavin Reed: Yea, but what if your neighbor has COVID. Can’t it, like, maybe travel through an air vent or under a door? Stick to a door knob or an elevator button? Something?
‘Scientist’: WHOA...are you questioning the science?!
Gavin Reed: Uh, well. I mean...no, I’m not. What you said is correct.
‘Scientist’: That’s what I thought. Okay, next fact. Wearing a mask decreases the risk of catching COVID. The more masks on your face at the same time, the safer you are.
Peter Vaughn: For sure.
Gavin Reed: Well, I mean...it kinda makes sense. But can’t smells escape clothing? Like let’s say you have smelly arm pits...can’t people get a whiff of those? If smells can get out...why couldn’t a strand of virus? And, as to that example...I’ve never experienced that, personally. I always smell great. Just want the record to show.
‘Scientist’: HEY! You SEEM to be questioning the science. ARE YOU?!
Gavin Reed: I just don’t know...ya know what. Nope. I’m not. You’re right, Mr. ‘Scientist’.
‘Scientist’: That’s what I thought. Okay...next factoid. People are actually happier being forced to stay home. Kids learn more via distance learning.
Peter Vaughn: I mean, who wouldn’t want to stay home all day? A holiday every day.
Gavin Reed: Yea but what about interacting with other humans...face to face? How can kids learn as much with all the distractions at home? Can parents get as much work done with their kids home all the time? What about babysitting or daycare costs?
‘Scientist’: What is THAT? Do I hear somebody QUESTIONING the SCIENCE?
Gavin Reed: Sounds like we’re just stating opinions at this point rather than science...but, no. You’re right. My bad.
‘Scientist’: Get in line, spreader. Fact number five...wearing your mask while driving your car is a great way to prevent the spread of COVID. Without the mask on, your germs could filter through your cars air system, shooting out its tail pipe. Plus, it prevents you from forgetting to put your mask on.
Peter Vaughn: I always drive with my mask on.
Gavin Reed: Wait a minute. That kinda debunks the staying inside theory...if it can travel through…
‘Scientist’: Bro. I will end this match so fast if I get the vibe you are doubting science.
Gavin Reed: Nevermind.
‘Scientist’: I’ll accept that. It makes sense for bars and restaurants to close early because COVID is more potent late in the evening.
Peter Vaughn: Sure. Plus, who needs to stay up that late anyway? Go to be early, wake up early...get some cleaning done.
Gavin Reed: What is COVID...some type of Gremlin strand? It’s more dangerous after midnight? I don’t really get…
‘Scientist’: MR REED! You are ONE WORD away from losing this match due to a total lack of faith in the SCIENCE. Should I call for the bell?
Gavin Reed: No. Absolutely not. I hope to secure a senior level position once Welsh regains his company. So, no. I agree 100% with the science.
‘Scientist’: Alright, moving along...and, may I just say, Mr. Vaughn...your unwavering belief in the science has been refreshing. It’s a pleasure to meet with a fellow scientist. As for you, Mr Reed...I’m watching you. Keep it up and you’re outta here, pal. Okay...next scientific fact...Andrew Cuomo is the hero of COVID having saved millions of lives while showing the world the best way to limit and defeat COVID.
Peter Vaughn: Sure.
Gavin Reed: Okay, that’s it. Are you kidding me?
‘Scientist’: Mr. Reed….
Gavin Reed: Like, not only did the guy murder a bunch of elderly but he’s obsessed with sausage and young women, like how can you…
‘Scientist’: Okay, that’s it! You have obviously lost faith in the science. RING THE BELL!!
~The bell rings. Reed’s mic is abruptly cut off~
Belvedere: Here is your winner...a man with more faith in science than El Ron Hubbard himself…PETER VAUGHN!!!!!
~Reed is dragged away, kicking and screaming. Vaughn takes his victory and plays to the crowd a bit. Belvedere steps in for an interview~
Belvedere: Peter Vaughn, congratulations. Your faith in science has secured a clean sweep for Outsiders over Online.
Peter Vaughn: I’m just glad to be able to help the Outsiders brand continue to grow.
Belvedere: And where did this absolute faith in the science come from?
Peter Vaughn: Again...I’m just happy to help the Outsiders brand grow. I look forward to competing here inside the OCW Arena! Thank you!
~Vaughn seems to know what being the face of a company is all about. He ducks out, proud of the most unique win of his career. We cut to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Peter Vaughn’s meteoric rise from janitor to superstar continues! Gavin Reed, well, he never stood a chance.
Hood: Should have kept his fuckin mouth shut.
Smith: Indeed. As a result...Zybala and his Outsiders have swept Welsh and his Onliners 6-0. That would seem to be it for Marcus and his hopes of raising OCW from the ashes. Now...not only has he lost OCW...but he’s Zybala’s butler.
Hood: The horror.
~Zybala pulls out a pair of dirty shoes.~
Zybala: Can’t wait for Welsh to shine these. I want to see my face in them when I SUPERKICK somebody.
~There is a knock at the door. Soot Losem answers. Greg stands in the doorway~
Zybala: There he is! Had enough of Welsh?
Greg: Mike. He’s a broken man. Can you cut him a break?
Zybala: A break? You mean like the kind of break he’d cut me? Yea, right.
Greg: We’ve got a deal...drawn up, ready to go. If you have any compassion for a broken man...if our friendship means anything…
~All the Outsiders look at Zybala with sympathetic eyes. Greg is clearly a popular member of their group~
Zybala: Alright, what is it.
Greg: By signing this...you put ownership of OCW on the line in this main event.
Zybala: How is that anything other than risking everything for nothing?
Greg: I’m not done. By signing this you guarantee two things. First, you guarantee that THE JUDGE will be a full time member of Outsiders.
~Everyone nods. Sounds promising. He is a strong, popular wrestler...as well as a fierce man of litigious might~
Greg: And...you also secure 25% of the next OCW roster for Outsider members. IF you lose, that is.
Zybala: So, if I win...I get OCW and can do whatever I want. If I lose...I get THE JUDGE and 25% of the roster for my guys.
Greg: Yes, and you maintain a staff position. Second in command.
~It’s not a great deal. I wouldn’t even call it a good deal. But, Zybala thinks about THE JUDGE. He thinks about how awesome THE JUDGE is. He doesn’t want to lose THE JUDGE~
Zybala: And the only way I guarantee that THE JUDGE sticks around is by signing this.
Greg: Yes, win or lose he is permanent property of Outsiders.
Zybala: Ah what the hell...I’m a gambling man and THE JUDGE versus Peter Vaughn will draw like crazy. Give me that!
~Zybala flips to the back page. He sees Welsh’s signature~
Greg: You want to read it?
Zybala: No need. I trust you, Greggo. And...there ya go! Now, let’s get to the main event...I’m pulling for THE JUDGE, right?
Greg: Yes, if THE JUDGE wins...you win. If Sara Syren wins...Marcus wins.
Zybala; Alright! Let’s do this!
~Like a man risking all his winnings on one hand of Blackjack, Zybala is wide eyed and fired up. Excitement is running at an all time high. Greg exits with the legal documents in hand. We cut to the ring. Who’Re is parading around, head lowered, eyes full of depression due to degradation~
THE JUDGE vs. Sara Syren
Belvedere: It is now time for the Main Event of Infection!!!
~The crowd goes wild~
Belvedere: This match will be contested inside a giant BUBBLE. The first person to secure a pinfall or submission will win and be declared…
~Belvedere pauses. He’s handed a trash bag. He puts on three latex gloves before reaching in...he yanks out a title...he reads the nameplate and is like “LOL wow.”~
Belvedere: The winner will be named...TransAtlantic Champion!
~A gasp from the crowd~
Smith: The most controversial title in OCW history! Ana Archia held this belt!
Hood: Geezus. What is Welsh doing? This title should have been burned!
Smith: This belt was the catalyst for the great fall of OCW in 2014. It crushed the heart and soul of the company.
Hood: This title sucks ass.
Smith: But...it’s back!
~The hardcore PEOPLE’S COURT THEME plays. THE JUDGE marches to the ring, toting all his weapons. He’s advised (rather than told because nobody tells THE JUDGE shit) to leave them outside the Bubble. Being a fair man, he follows the rules. He steps into the ring and awaits his competitor~
Belvedere: From THE COURT OF LAW...he is...THE JUDGE
~“Face the Pain” by Stemm hits! Sara Syren burst through the curtain. She’s somehow bigger and more cut than before. Storming to the ring, she has her sights set on THE JUDGE. She storms up the steps and powers through the ropes~
Belvedere: And, his opponent...Sara Syren!!
~Belvedere exits. A giant bubble comes down...surrounding the ring. There’s no room outside the ring...but the bubble is wide enough to contain the ropes and posts...there’s even room to climb to the top rope, if someone wants. The bell sounds~
Smith: And here we go! This kind of has a big fight feel, doesn’t it?
Hood: Yea, sure. Two dominant forces...although one is a man. So he’s got to have the edge.
Smith: I don’t know...Sara Syren has a very famous last name.
Hood: Yea, how’d she get that, anyway. She fucking lift it to increase her credibility?
~Syren and THE JUDGE circle one another. And BOOM, they lock up. A true test of strength. Syren shoves THE JUDGE back...she flexes. The crowd is in awe. THE JUDGE snarls and lunges back...another lock up! This time he pushes Sara back. The crowd is like “Ooohhh...ahhh...THE JUDGE!”~
Smith: A true test of strength! Neither competitor is giving an inch!
Hood: Sara Syren seems to be fueled by drugs. THE JUDGE is fueled by justice.
Smith: That’s one way to put it.
~Sara hits the ropes and runs into THE JUDGE. He doesn’t move. THE JUDGE hits the ropes and runs into Syren. She doesn’t budge. Sara beats her chest, roaring. THE JUDGE narrows his eyes, making an internal judgment. Syren backs into her corner and charges at THE JUDGE. THE JUDGE dodges a lariat. Sara stumbles forward. THE JUDGE turns around and grabs Syren by the waist, looking for a German Suplex. He tosses her over his head...but she lands on her feet...she throws her arms into the air, roaring. THE JUDGE nips up~
Smith: These are two abnormally strong and agile human beings.
Hood: Super humans.
Smith: Hard to fathom but it could be true.
~Again, they circle each other. It’s impossible to tell who...if either...can gain an advantage. Seems to be a total stalemate. Outside the ring we spot The Knife Man walking at a brisk pace. He’s carrying his giant knife, as always. He whispers something to Belvedere. Belvedere’s face goes white...he trembles, reaching for his mic~
Smith: Uh oh. There seems to be something going on outside the ring. Belvedere...he looks shaken.
Hood: Did he finally get word that Zybala might be his boss?
Smith: I think it’s probably worse than that, Hood. Brace yourself.
~Belvedere stands and clears his throat. THE JUDGE and Sara Syren pause...waiting. The fans turn their attention toward the impromptu, abrupt announcement~
Belvedere: Fans...everyone inside the arena. I’m sorry to have to announce that...someone has just tested positive for COVID. Now, please...stay…
~The entire place freaks out!! Fans run and charges for the exits. They trample and stomp over one another. A few are heard screaming “WE ARE ALL GONNA DIE!” another yells “THE COVID IS HERE!” Belvedere drops the mic and takes off. The Knife man isn’t far behind. Smith and Hood remain at their announce position as the entire OCW Arena filters out...before long...all that remains are THE JUDGE and Sara Syren (along with Scruff), inside their Bubble...and Who’Re, who is apparently too embarrassed to leave with such little clothing on~
Smith: Oh my gosh! COVID is in the OCW Arena! Should we leave?
Hood: What and get bunched up with all those other people...including the one person who has it? No thanks. We’re safe here.
Smith: Good point. What about the match?
Hood: I assume it will go on? No reason for it to stop.
~With the OCW Arena totally empty. THE JUDGE and Sara Syren lock eyes once more. Who’Re, feeling the emptiness, stands, dropping her cue card~
Smith: Who’Re feeling comfortable to move, now that nobody is watching her.
Hood: Well, aside from all the people streaming this. Including Adi Gold who I’m told is getting it for free.
Smith: Yea, but it doesn’t FEEL like they are staring at her.
~Who’Re reaches the ring bell. She bends at the knees and reaches underneath it...revealing a SLEDGEHAMMER~
Smith: Okay, so she’s not leaving.
Hood: What the hell is that whore doing?!
~THE JUDGE turns to face Who’Re. Sara Syren rushes at him. He spins back around, his judicious ears feeling her wrath bearing down. They lock up again!! Another test of strength...neither competitor budging. Who’Re rears back...she lunges forward with the sledgehammer, shattering a hole inside the Bubble! She crawls through the hole. We see Welsh leaning from his suite, wide eyed and smiling~
Marcus Welsh: Look, Greg...LOOK! The whore is going to save me! Greg?
~Greg has yet to return. Who’Re slides into the ring, rises to her knees and delivers the low blow to end all low blows on THE JUDGE!!! The legal system falls to its knees. Sara Syren lifts a vicious knee into THE JUDGE’S face. He falls over...she makes the pin. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Smith: Sara Syren has won! She’s the new TransAtlantic Champion!
Hood: Whore screwed THE JUDGE...and not in that amazingly feel good kinda way, either!
Smith: Stockholm Syndrome? She just helped Welsh...the man who has treated her like dirt ever since she joined the company.
~Welsh is going wild in his GM box. Who’Re exits the ring and grabs a mic~
Who’Re: The winner...AND NEW TRANSATLANTIC CHAMPION...SARA SYREN!!!!!
~More celebrating by Welsh~
Smith: Horrible ending to what was a fun show.
Hood: Death, Taxes, and Welsh always pulling one over Zybala!
Who’Re: Marcus!
~Welsh leans out the window, smiling...staring down at Who’Re. He yells out, “You’re the best whore, ever! An entire link of sausage for you, whore!” Who’Re gives a perfunctory smile in response~
Who’Re: I’m not eating any sausage.
~Welsh is suddenly attacked from behind...by GREG! Greg drills Welsh in the back of the head with a framed picture of the two vacationing in the Bahamas. Welsh is out on his feet, leaning forward. Greg grabs him by the legs and tosses him over the edge...Welsh falls over fifty feet, slamming hard into a bunch of seats bolted to the floor. It’s a sickening noise~
Smith: OH MY GOODNESS! Marcus Welsh might be dead!
Hood: Greg just turned on Welsh!
Smith: What the...why?
Hood: Hell hath no fury like a Greg scored, I guess.
Smith: I knew the two hadn’t spoken in a year...but, THIS?
~Greg flips to the most important page of the contract Zybala signed. We zoom in and read “If Syren wins, ownership of OCW will officially be transferred to Who’Re.” Then we hit the bottom where both Welsh and Zybala signed~
Who’Re: Thank you, Gregs.
~Greg nods, pointing down at Who’Re. A new alliance has been formed. Sara Syren steps out of the Bubble and pats Who’Re on the back. Who’Re responds by raising Sara Syren’s arm up in triumph. THE JUDGE remains down~
Smith: Who’Re and Sara Syren are celebrating...Who’Re is the owner of OCW!
Hood: And THE JUDGE is still down. Can confirm he has huge balls.
Smith: A new era of OCW, Hood...a woman in charge. My goodness...what could possibly come next?
Hood: What are you asking me for?
Smith: Good question...fans, thanks for tuning in...I don’t know what’s in store for the immediate future...all I can say is stay tuned to the news wire and all the social media outlets. Until our next show...this is Smith, signing off.
Hood: Adios.
~A final shot of Who’Re and Sara Syren embracing...basking in the light of their historic achievement. The patriarchy is dead! No more mysogyny in OCW! A new era!~
OOC: Where do we go from here? Expect some invites to join the new era of OCW. Also, special credit to my good buddy Awe.Some for inspiration regarding these stipulation and the show theme.
also, if you read this...or part of it...be kind enough to drop a review on the OOC thread here. Thanks!