OCW Presents: Massacre
LIVE! Monday, September 17th 2018
From The OCW Arena in Key West, Florida
~Another Monday night is upon us. We’re still coming down off the high of last week. Mayhem on the Midway was amazing! It was like doing a line of cocaine off Greg’s ass while riding the Marvel. What an experience! But that was last week. It’s time to turn the page. It’s time to start anew. It’s time to hit the proverbial reset. The march toward Serial Thrillers is officially underway! We stand in our living room pondering these things because we are lonely. We take a seat on our coach with a liter of cola and a bag of FUNYONS. Sweat pants feel like a good option given what we’re about to shove down our throat. The television turns on and, thankfully, no poltergeist jump out. Instead, we get that sweet, sweet OCW logo followed by that Massacre image! It’s Monday Night Massacre time! The image cuts to the rabid OCW arena in Key West! The localized fan base is excited to have OCW back where it belongs! An “OCW!” chant fills the arena as the camera finishes perusing the fans and sticks with a solid image of Smith and Hood~
Smith: Hello again everyone and welcome to Monday Night Massacre! I’m your host Smith and alongside me, as always, is Hood! And tonight we begin the march toward Serial Thrillers!
Hood: I can’t wait! I love this time of year!
Smith: Indeed! Mayhem on the Midway was an extraordinary event…one that certainly lived up to the hype. We saw three new champions crowned.
Hood: And the most important champ retained!
Smith: Hood is of course referring to Matt Meyhu continuing his reign as OCW Champion by defeating Mack O’Connor
Hood: It was MARVELOUS
Smith: It was something, that’s for sure. But it was a great night! Tonight, however, our focus shifts…tonight we look to the future…tonight we look toward Serial Thrillers. We have seven matches this evening all featuring competitors who were left off the Serial Thrillers show for one reason or another.
Hood: Because they aren’t Matt Meyhu
Smith: Technically that is true…but tonight they all get the chance to impress and move up the OCW rankings ladder.
~"Killing Ourselves to Live" by Halestorm sounds over the PA system as small fireballs shoot out through the corrugated at either side of the entrance stage. Out steps The Rebel and The Legend, side by side through the curtains to a bit of a mixed pop after the events of last week's Mayhem on the Midway. In their hands were their Margarita Mix trophies which they held high in the air. In the Rebel's free hand is a microphone which she shouts to the crowd~
Rebel: WE CAME! THEY SAW! WE FUCKING WON IT!!!!! WWWWWAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo!!!!
~The two head straight for the ring, Langston slapping hands with a few fans on one side, the Rebel giving fist bumps on the other. Arriving at ringside, the two rush for the apron, leap up, and slide in, quickly hopping to their feet and raising those trophies high in the air once more. After letting the music play a little longer and talking with each other, the Rebel then motioned for the music to be killed and brought the mic to her lips.~
Rebel: HELLO O...C...DDDUBBBYYAAAAAHHH!!!! Me and the Legend here, we just came off a huge ass win against the tough competition. Curt Canon.... Scott Syren, thank you both for one hell of a match! I'm sure a rematch will be in the works for all four of us soon enough. However, before I get any further, there's something I need to clear up.
~The Rebel paced the ring as Langston leaned back in a corner, nodding his head~
Rebel: At Mayhem, you had Mike Zybala versus Marcus Welsh, Welsh fighting to keep his job against Zybala, who ultimately wanted him gone. Now you see, I don't hate Zybala. In fact, I think he's a very sweet guy when you get to know him, but the problem is, I owed Marcus Welsh a blood debt. On a storm tossed Carrier in the middle of the Pacific, I was beaten and bloodied to the point that the man had to give me a Blood Transfusion just to make it through the night. He almost had to do it again, as a matter of fact, but the second time around they were able to just barely stop the bleeding. All compliments of Julliet Brooks.
~She stops and walks forward, leaning against the ropes with her arms crossed, trophy in one hand, microphone in the other and held sideways in her signature fashion just beside her ruby red lips~
Rebel: I did what I did not out of a need to advance my career or kiss ass, but because I always pay my debts. For Marcus Welsh, being the GM of OCW is almost as important as breathing. This is his life and for him to lose this job would've been on par with me not getting that life saving blood in time. So Markey-Moo, consider my debt paid.
~Melinda then smiles.~
Rebel: Now, as for what me and Vincent are going to do. A couple weeks back, when this all began, Axel Veiga predicted that I'd betray Big Vinnie, cut his throat and leave him bleeding in the hot hot sun. That I'd be too selfish and self-centered to pursue anything but a singles championship. What knifey-wifey didn't count on was the fact that on my bucket list of things to do before I end my wrestling career, is that I have always wanted to hold Tag Team Gold. It's the only thing I haven't done. I've held multiple titles and even been a Triple Crown champion, having held all three singles championships in one company, but I've never once, been a proper tag team champion.
~She pushes off the ropes and motions Langston forward. The big man approaches and Melinda shoots him a smile, then pats his shoulder and looks at the crowd.~
Rebel: So Vinnie, we've got the music, still need to work on some shirts, but what do you say to us teaming up and being The Legendary Trifecta and Tag Team Champions of OCW?
*HUGE EXPLOSIVE CROWD POP*
Crowd: TRI-FECT-AH! TRI-FECT-AH! TRI-FECT-AH!!!
~Melinda gives the mic to Langston, who looks down at the ground for a moment, waiting for the crowd to die down. He's not showing any emotion, and looks more thoughtful than Melinda seems to be expecting. When he finally speaks, it's in a quiet tone.~
Legend: I have made it clear my reasons for coming to OCW. I came here to prove myself, and I came to fight. I wasn't looking for easy wins. I wanted to face the best, the ones that would give me the toughest challenges. And out of nowhere, I ended up teaming with you, Rebel. And we got to battle the best. Vega. Zolton. Canon. Syren. I've had better brawls than I ever expected. But, Melinda, I'm wanting more.
~For the first time Melinda's smile fades a little as she stares at her tag-team partner. Langston turns and looks at her.~
Legend: I want more of those fights. I want more tests, more challenges. I want the best of the best.
~Langston stares intently at Melinda, who matches his gaze, waiting for whatever is coming next. The crowd seems to be holding their breath.~
Legend: And from what I see, the only way to do that... is to have the championships around our waists.
~The crowd goes wild again with Melinda now sporting a wide grin.~
Legend: So let them come for us, Melinda. Let them try and take the belts. Because I'm always ready to break some bones and smash some skulls. Bring them on. The Legendary Trifecta is waiting.
~Langston puts his hand out towards Melinda and she takes that hand with a firm shake, then shouts into the microphone.~
Rebel: SO THERE'S YOU'RE ANSWER, PEOPPPPLLLLLEEEE!!!! "The Rebel" Melinda Rhodes and "The Legend" Vinnie Langston! YOU'RE NEW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS! THE LEGENDARY TTTRRRRIIIIIFFFFFEEEECCCCCTTTTAAAA!!!! WWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!!!!
~Their music hit's the PA as they both dink their Margarita Mix trophies together and then raise them high above their heads! The crowd pops huge!~
Crowd: TRI-FECT-AH!!! TRI-FECT-AH!!! TRI-FECT-AH!!!!
Smith: And there you have it, Hood! Rhodes and Langston have chosen the tag team path! They are officially recognized as the NEW OCW Tag Team Champions and they will spearhead the revival of the tag team division
Hood: Yea, we've had some great fucking teams in that division. Awe.Some, The Aptitude, The Dravers Boys, Perfectly Marvelous, Sex and Violence...this Legendary Trifecta seems just as good.
Smith: Indeed! Well folks...we're just getting started here and we've already got a historic announcement under our belts! Let's cut to some footage from earlier this week featuring our victorious General Manager, Marcus Welsh
Hood: I hope he's okay!
~We cut to a shot of Marcus Welsh. He’s laid up in his elegant loft, apartment, whatever. It’s nice. It’s got a breathtaking view of the beach. Welsh sips on a straw sticking out of a white, Styrofoam cup. He’s frustrated with what’s on the television~
Marcus Welsh: Has daytime television always been this bad?
~Welsh continues to suffer the shit programming that airs while most people are at work. There is a knock on his door~
Marcus Welsh: Yes?
Voice: May I come in?
Marcus Welsh: Ah, Greg! Come on in!
~A man named Greg enters. He’s dressed like a nurse. That’s because he IS a nurse. He heads over toward Welsh with a bucket of warm water and a sponge. He stands over Welsh with a comforting smile~
Greg: And how are we feeling?
Marcus Welsh: A little sore. My shoulder is still all banged up
Greg: Alright, lean forward and I’ll take care of it
Marcus Welsh: Thanks Greg, you’re the best
~Welsh leans forward. He’s wearing one of those hospital gowns. Greg pulls the back apart and applies the sponge to one of Welsh’s shoulders. Welsh moans with relief~
Marcus Welsh: Ah that feels great…you’re the man, Greg
Greg: Anything for you, Marcus. We need to get you back in tip top shape
Marcus Welsh: Well this certainly seems to be helping
Greg: I can see that!
~They are obviously pointing out the fact that the bruising around Welsh’s shoulder is subsiding. Greg notices the program on TV~
Marcus Welsh: Yea, I know…nothing on
Greg: You’re watching cable? You silly goose! Everybody who’s anybody streams now.
Marcus Welsh: Streams?
Greg: You mean to tell me you don’t stream?
Marcus Welsh: That’s what I’m saying
~Greg gasps and clutches his chest~
Greg: Well we have GOT to fix that. Tell ya what, once we’re done with the sponging I’ll head out and get you an Amazon Fire Stick
Marcus Welsh: Whatever you say, Greg.
Greg: Just let Greg take care of it
~Welsh shuts his eyes, smiles and exhales with added relief. He’s being well taken care of in his afflicted state. We cut back to the announce team in the OCW Arena~
Smith: Interesting footage
Hood: Who released that footage?!
Smith: Calm down, Hood. There's nothing wrong with what we just witnessed
Hood: Welsh was obviously disoriented and being taken advantage of! I bet Zybala did this! He just can't take a loss like a man, can he?
Smith: Again, folks, there is nothing wrong with the footage we just witnessed. Please excuse my broadcast colleague
Hood: Who the fuck is Greg, anyway? Is that like another one of Zybala's lame ass Outsider guys?
Smith: Forget about it, Hood. GM Welsh was obviously injured from his battle against Zybala and needed some care. It's not a big deal.
Hood: We have GOT to get to the bottom of this
Smith: There are far more important things...like The Uber Man and Harold Jones. That match is up next, folks!
Singles Match
Harold ‘The Headliner’ Jones (2-4) vs. The Uber Man (1-2)
~A young man in the crowd is dancing around, flashing people his tits for popcorn. It’s a strange ritual. We’ve never seen it before. It must be Mardi Gras inspired. The guy must also REALLY dig popcorn. Anyway, this goes on for a while until Belvedere clears his voice. The guy pulls his shirt down and pays attention. His arms are full of popcorn~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is schedule for one fall! Introducing first…
~“Who’s Laughing Now” by Millencolin starts to play. Harold Jones emerges from the back with a cheeky grin on his face. Yes, a CHEEKY GRIN. A portion of the crowd laughs just looking at him. Not to mock the guy but because, well, he’s a funny guy! Harold doesn’t seem to mind. Laughter is music to his ears! He hustles down the ramp and slides into the ring, ready for action~
Belvedere: From the Nearest Comedy Club…standing 5’8 and weighing in at 175lbs…Harold ‘The Headliner’ Jones!!!
~The crowd chants ‘JOKE!’ Harold says “Oh c’mon, you guys are too much!” He then reaches for Belvedere’s mic. Belvedere rips it away. He will be having NONE of this. Jones sulks for a moment before heading to his corner. Belvedere speaks into his mic~
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~“Hero” by Nickelback hits. The crowd goes wild with delusion! Their HERO has arrived!! The Uber Man leaps from behind the curtain with all the agility of Tony the Spider. He looks around mysteriously, as though evil is afoot. He discovers his path toward the ring to be safe and scurries down the ramp. He trips and falls at the bottom. The crowd goes quiet. Harold chuckles. Uber is down, face first for a few moments~
Smith: Uhh
Hood: Is he out?
~Uber suddenly pops to his feet! Someone in the front row yells “AND HE’S OKAY!” The crowd goes wild!! Uber sprints toward the ring. He stops at the apron and carefully rolls in, to avoid another disaster. He gets to his feet and raises his twig like arms in the air~
Belvedere: From Rancho Cucamonga, California…standing 5’11 and weighing in at 195lbs…The Uber Man!!!
~Uber reaches for the mic. Belvedere, a man of fair treatment, rips the mic from Uber and exits the ring in something of a huff. Uber shrugs and heads to his corner. The bell rings~
Smith: Belvedere being somewhat stingy with his mic this evening
Hood: He’s saving us from being forced to listen to the mental madness of two simpletons
Smith: I think Harold is funny
Hood: Can’t believe you just admitted that on air. That’s like saying you whack off to that cartoon porn bullshit
Smith: Hey, the match is starting!
~Harold hops out of the ring. Uber looks confused. Harold heads over to Belvedere’s table and snares the mic from an unsuspecting Belvedere. Belvedere looks up at Harold and decides it isn’t worth it and lets it go. Harold slides into the ring and lifts the mic to his lips~
Harold Jones: You know what really Cheeses my Biscuits? It’s seeing someone like Axel Veiga being handed a title shot! I mean when did that guy ever tell a funny joke, huh? Speaking of jokes, what’s the deal with Roast Beef?
Smith: What is he going on about?
Hood: Cheeses his biscuits? Who puts cheese on biscuits? And why would that make a person angry?
Smith: I don’t know
Harold Jones: It’s not exactly roasted…
~Someone from the crowd yells “IT IS ROASTED!” another person yells “THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS…IT’S ROASTED BEEF!”~
Harold Jones: Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean Roast Beef. What’s the deal with Corned Beef? It’s…
~Before Harold can finish he’s rolled up by Uber! Scruff slides in for the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…THE UBER MAN!!!!!
Smith: And Uber notches his second professional win! Good for him!
Hood: Holy hell Harold is a terrible comedian
Smith: Not his best material this evening
~Uber celebrates his second win by falling out of the ring and sprinting up the ramp to the back. We’re not sure why he ran to the back. But, he did. Harold stands up. The fans are booing him. He frowns, takes the mic and lays it in the center of the ring. Sadly, he exits the ring and marches up the ramp with his head down~
Smith: The Headliner seems pretty dejected. This might be the last we see of him
Hood: Yea that Roast Beef shit was pretty bad…not that his usual stuff is any good…but, man, that was worse than usual.
Smith: He might need to step away and reevaluate things. Anyway…Uber notches a win and is the first victor in the march toward Serial Thrillers! Good for Uber!
~Muffles paced about the backstage area. The bunny man tugged at his ears as one would tug at their own hair in frustration. The eyes on the suit appeared hastily mended from the incident of a past match. Obviously, what ever weighed on his mind during his promotional video package doubled in weight as the minutes toward his match ticked away. A deep breath heard inside the helmet before Muffles turned to face the camera~
Muffles: I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t. Coming down there as someone else and expecting it all to come to me. Expecting to live up to the expectations of everyone out there. I can’t go out there. I can’t be this person, rabbit, whatever they want me to be. I just don’t know what they want. I don’t know what made this Muffles the Bunny so darn special.
~Muffles raised his arms up and pulled the helmet of the costume off his head. The face of a bearded brown haired man revealed. Soon after the furry uniform that made up the rest of the suit. The tall man loosed a sigh, staring directly into the camera afterward~
Muffles: I cannot walk down to that ring as Muffles the Bunny. I can’t do it justice. So I’m going to walk on down there with a little less pretense. I am known as Warren Lapierre. That’s who I am going down the ring as. That’s who will be facing Miss Townsend tonight.
~The man now known as Warren walked off camera. When the camera panned over to where warren tossed the suit, it was gone. As if it just vanished in thin air. A strange disembodied cackling heard as the scene faded out~
Smith: Warren Lapierre?
Hood: That doesn't roll off the tongue like Muffles the Bunny
Smith: I have to say...I'm intrigued
Hood: Solid looking guy, for sure. But, I mean...what about the bunny? We've lost the comedian...don't tell me we're losing the bunny?!
Smith: Calm down, Hood. It's a suit. I'm sure we can find another Muffles if it's that important.
Hood: NOT THE BUNNY MAN. WE NEED TO KEEP MURPHY THE BODY
Smith: Murphy the Body?
Hood: I said Muffles the Bunny. Your hearing is off
Smith: Oh, okay then
“The Professor” Bradley Carrington (10-6) vs. Talia Areano (4-4)
~The Key West fans are certainly glad that OCW is BACK where it belongs…in the keys! They are also happy that Florence missed them. And by happy I mean in the way that one can be happy while also being sad for those affected by this horrible natural disaster. Anyway…Belvedere clears his throat to eschew the uncomfortable narrative moment and the fans go wild…it’s time for some in ring action~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~"Taking Over Me" by Evanescence hits. Talia Areano rushes down the ramp and into the ring, ready to fight~
Belvedere: From Buenos Aires, Argentina…standing 5’6 and weighing in at 125lbs…Talia Areano!
~Areano backs into her corner, ready for action~
Smith: Areano had a nice showing two weeks ago by defeating Michael O’Neil. Can she score her second upset in as many matches this week by defeating Bradley Carrington?
Hood: Where has the Professor been, anyway?
Smith: I thought you’d know that
Hood: I just assumed he went into hiding after losing to Alice. Could have cost him his job, you know. A professor losing to an idiot isn’t a good look for any university
Belvedere: And, her opponent…
~"The Greatest Man That Ever Lived" by Weezer hits. The crowd starts to boo. They are well aware as to who this song belongs. Bradley Carrington emerges with the lovely Autumn. She’s carrying a copy of his self-proclaimed famous book “Being the Best at Everything, the Bradley Carrington Story.” While on their way to the ring Autumn spots a destitute fan. One of extreme impoverished upbringing and hands them Carrington’s book. They are overjoyed. Autumn grabs Carrington, showing him how his book is already helping people. Carrington nods and says something about chapter four going over the importance of showering. He continues walking down the ramp with Autumn beaming over her philanthropic act. The fan says something about saving money on toilet paper and eagerly exits to take the book home to their bathroom. This, thankfully, was not overheard by The Professor or Autumn. Carrington hustles up the steps and enters in the ring with Autumn roaming the outside~
Belvedere: From Ithaca, New York…standing six feet tall and weighing in at 205lbs…“The Professor” Bradley Carrington!!!
~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: Carrington needs a win in a bad way here tonight
Hood: The Professor has been busy. He was tutoring all summer long some of the greatest young minds in the WORLD. And now…well now fall semester has begun. So I mean how can the guy be expected to compete in OCW?
Smith: It’s his job
Hood: HE’S A PROFESSOR! And a part time self help novelist
~Carrington and Areano lock eyes. Carrington seems focused. Areano, the same. The crowd, however, has a mind of their own. They begin to “HOOT” at Carrington. Bradley looks around, at first perplexed…then it hits him. They are taunting him over his loss to Alice Knight from Lost at Sea. This starts to bother him~
Smith: The fans remember!
Hood: Fucking idiots…wasting all those brain cells remembering Alice and her dumb shit when they could be going over postulates and theorems
Smith: I love Geometry!
Hood: I fucking hated Geometry. IT’S JUST A TRIANGLE WHO CARES ABOUT THE MOTHER FUCKING DIMENSIONS
~Carrington paces around the ring, clearly bothered. Autumn tries to calm him down, but he’s irate. He yells at the fans to shut up! He calls Alice derogatory terms like “floozy” and “One cheap dame”. We don’t know why he’s using 1920’s put downs…we just figure it fits his character better than ‘slut’ or ‘whore’~
Smith: HOW DARE HE
Hood: Calm down…those were pretty mild
Smith: A cheap dame?! HOW DARE HE
Hood: You’re such a douche. Anything less than “she’s the greatest” bothers you
~Areano waits, impatiently, for Carrington to return his focus to the match. Carrington, finally, throws his arms at the fans calling them ‘simpletons’. He turns and gets SMACKED in the face by Areano with a Knock Out Punch (Fist of Fury)!!! He’s wobbled. Areano grabs his head, puts her feet on the ropes and takes Carrington down with Slice of Heaven (Sliced Bread 2)!!! The crowd leaps to their feet. She pins Carrington. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings! The crowd goes wild~
Smith: WHAT AN UPSET!
Hood: What the fuck?!
Smith: Talia Areano has just pinned The Professor! I can’t believe it!
Hood: It’s these fans! It’s that gypsy witch Alice Knight! Restart the match! That doesn’t count!
Smith: Oh yes it does
Belvedere: Here is your winner….TALIA AREANO!!!!!
Smith: Areano with the biggest win of her OCW career!
Hood: Well that SUCKS
Smith: She’s won two in a row, Hood! She’s on a roll!
Hood: BLAH
~The cameras go to the back where Ed Houston is standing with a mic in his hand. The crowd starts an excited “Ed Houston!” chant.~
Ed Houston: “For those of you that don’t know, Mayhem on the Midway didn’t go the way I had planned.”
~He solemnly looks at his empty shoulder. ~
Ed Houston: “I came in as one of the hottest stars in OCW universe and left without my Craze Championship.”
~He takes a deep breath.~
Ed Houston: “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to lay down. My trip through the OCW universe is just getting started and this time, I want the very best on my side. This is a message to all those in OCW, a call to arms. If you think you have what it takes to fly in space with me, to be pushed to your limits like only astronauts can, to train like one of the NASA elites, let me know. I’m starting my own team. Our only goal is to be the best like no one ever was and reduce the rest of the OCW universe to dust in the cosmos. Consider this your official invitation. Team Rocket is about to blast off and when it does, the universe as we know it will never be the same.”
~Houston drops the mic and walks off camera as the scene fades to black.~
~Massacre cuts to ringside where Belvedere is standing by…~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the NEW OCW Paradigm Champion… ANDREA HERNANDEZ!!!
~The fans erupt with cheers as “Ultranumb” by Blue Stahli hits and Andrea Hernandez walks through the curtains with the OCW Paradigm Championship around her waist.~
Hood: The audacity of this woman to come out here and act like she actually accomplished something…
Smith: She did… she’s got that title around her waist for a reason…
Hood: Yeah, because the referee was such a screw up! Axel DIDN’T TAP!
Smith: Regardless, that was still no excuse for him to do what he did after the match was over but it appears that Andrea is at least taking it in stride some as she enters the ring…
~Andrea is in the ring at this point as she takes the microphone from Belvedere who walks out. She allows her song to fade out and for the crowd to get some more cheers in before she begins to speak her mind.~
Andrea: Last week at Mayhem… I have to say that I had to fight one of the hardest matches of my life… if not the hardest one I’ve ever had. I may despise the kind of person that Axel Veiga is with his ego and all, but I have to give him the credit he deserves in the fact that he was one hell of an opponent. It may not have been pretty, and there may have been controversy over the way that match ended and hell, maybe he was a sore loser after it all… but none of that changes the fact that I AM the OCW Paradigm Champion!!!
~Andrea unstraps the championship around her waist and raises it in the air, causing the fans to explode with more cheers.~
Hood: “Champion”... sure… you know you got away with one!
~Andrea slings the title back over her shoulder before she continues. ~
Andrea: And you know what? Being the Paradigm Champion puts me in some really damn good company! To be in a similar class of wrestlers like Mack O’Connor and Alice Knight is something that I didn’t think would happen this soon and I definitely didn’t figure that this would happen four matches into my run here in OCW! Now, as far as the controversy goes… and as far as a certain sore loser goes… first off… I don’t buy the fact that he quit because he’s a desperate, pathetic soul that NEEDS to be an attention whore because if you strip that away from him, there’s nothing left. Clearly… he’s doing all this to feed his own ego because he can’t stand the fact that he thought he had the match in the bag and in the end, his own ego cost him. Controversy or not… maybe he shouldn’t have… you know...allowed his hands to hit the mat in any fashion while he was locked in that last submission? Whatever. I KNOW I can beat him again if it comes down to that and if anyone back there has any doubts about my validity and viability as the Paradigm Champion… step on up and do something about it because I am not the kind of champion that runs from any challenge whatsoever. Doubters and critics are those that I have silenced again and again, and last week, I did just that…
~The fans cheer as Andrea takes a deep pause, reflecting on her journey up to this point.~
Andrea: So this one goes out to any wrestler I’ve ever encountered in my career that decided to cast doubt upon me… this goes out to any person that has caused me a great deal of pain over my short career while I struggled for so long to get my big breakthrough moment… you were WRONG about me! You were wrong not only because I came to OCW and won a championship only four matches in, but you were wrong because you don’t have the talent nor the courage to come to a real wrestling company in OCW and I… and a lot of that locker room… would EXPOSE YOU as the frauds you are outside of your proverbial bubble and deep down, you all know it too!!!
Smith: AMEN!!!
Hood: Since when did you become her biggest fan?
Smith: Even you have to admit that everything she went through to get to this point in her career were some rough obstacles that stood in her path.
Hood: There’s no crying in wrestling though! Maybe now it’s about time she lets go of the past and focuses on her farce championship win.
Andrea: And you know what the best part is? Last week… I FINALLY got my big breakthrough moment! This championship here… it represents THE moment where I don’t look back! Mayhem was the night that I am going to remember for the rest of my career as the night that Andrea Hernandez established herself as not just one of the rising stars in this business, but THE rising star in OCW and with my journey so far… you think this championship means the end of it? No… this isn’t the end… this is the BEGINNING…
~There is nowhere to go but UP from here!~
Andrea: And starting with this championship and taking on all comers, I am going to keep moving up that ladder, I’m going to continue to cement my claim as the rising star of OCW and… hey… you never know… maybe I’M the one that dethrones Matt Meyhu someday!
Hood: Yeah right…
Smith: That is a very BOLD claim by a very bold competitor… but it’s served her extremely well so far in OCW!
Andrea: So if anyone wants to say “no” to me… try to do so in this ring… because my time has arrived and I’ve got the confidence and the pedigree to kick start my rise to the top! No more looking back… I’m NEVER being denied again and you can bet that it’s only going to get better from here!
~Andrea drops the microphone and raises her title in the air again as she draws even more cheers from the fans. Maintaining her poise and confidence, she heads to the back.~
Smith: You have to give Andrea credit… she’s not letting any controversy, criticism or Axel Veiga’s actions weigh her down. She’s determined to prove not just that she can be a champion, but that she can be among the best of the best here.
Hood: She needs to realize that the road in OCW isn’t easy. It’s cutthroat as hell! Confidence is one thing, but results are another.
Smith: Well, if results so far are any indication, I’d say she has every reason to feel like her Paradigm Championship win was the start of some very special things for her!
~We cut backstage to the office of GM Marcus Welsh. He seems to be in decent shape. Much more lucid than the video we saw earlier in the evening. Barry Man is Low is hovering over his desk. Knux either has the night off or is healing from some injuries. Cap Slock stands near the door with a notepad in his hand, writing stuff down~
Marcus Welsh: And I want to know WHO got that footage. You know what…fuck who got the footage…I want to know WHY I was being filmed, okay?
Cap Slock: YES SIR
Marcus Welsh: Also check on the status of the new OCW Tag Titles. Now that we know Langston and Rhodes are heading down that road we need to make sure those belts are fashioned, at the latest, by Serial Thrillers.
Cap Slock: YES SIR
Marcus Welsh: And pick me up some pain killers.
Cap Slock: OF COURSE SIR.
~Welsh goes back to doing something. Cap Slock lingers. Welsh looks up~
Marcus Welsh: Well?
Cap Slock: IT’S WHY I INITIALLY ENTERED, SIR. I HAVE SOME UPSETTING NEWS
Marcus Welsh: How upsetting, on a scale of 1-10?
Cap Slock: A SOLID SEVEN, SIR
Marcus Welsh: Hmm, yea, that sounds kind of upsetting. Alright, let me have it.
Cap Slock: IT SEEMS AS THOUGH DUE TO THE REVELATION THAT MUFFLES WILL BE COMPETING AS WARREN LAPIERRE. IT SEEMS THAT SIOBHAN TOWNSEND HAS REFUSED TO COMPETE AND LEFT THE BUILDING. SHE CITES UNFAIR TREATMENT BY A BIASED SUPERIOR WHO HAS BEEN EXPOSED AS CORRUPT IN THE PAST.
Marcus Welsh: Oh she does, does she? Well, I must say…this is a solid seven out of ten. It might even be an eight. Oh well, fuck it. Let’s put her on a two week suspension without pay. As far as Lapierre…send Shootah out there. Let’s see what this Lapierre kid can do.
~Cap Slock pauses, looking at Welsh funny~
Marcus Welsh: Yes I know he’s the same guy under the mask! So, technically we KNOW what he can do…but you get what I mean! Now, hurry, get out of here and accomplish the items on that list!
Cap Slock: YES SIR. RIGHT AWAY SIR
~Cap Slock exits leaving Welsh behind. He rubs his forehead and groans. The groan sounds a little like ‘Greg’. We cut back to the announce table~
Smith: How disappointing…Townsend has left the building and won’t be competing this evening
Hood: I guess she either really hates Easter or fears French surnames
Smith: Evidently…but I am highly interested in seeing Warren Lapierre compete without the mask. It should be an interesting sight
Hood: I guess…but it can’t be MORE interesting than before. I mean, let’s face it…before he was wrestling as a giant rabbit
Smith: That is true. Anyway…he will debut later this evening. Up next, however, we have ANOTHER debut…so let’s head down to ringside!
Singles Match
Bruce Rage (0-0) vs. John E Depth (0-2)
~The crowd is chanting “RAGE! RAGE!” They know what’s upcoming. They are excited for what looks like another unpredictable, psychotic OCW star. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: THE FOLLOWING MATCH IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL! INTRODUCING FIRST FROM HOLLYWOOD CALIFORNIA....
~"Bad Touch" by Bloodhound Gang hit's the P/A and out steps the master of the mixed crowd reaction, porn-stache proudly on display along with his 70's fashionable sunglasses, Hawaiian shirt, garishly colorful tights, classic shades, and white boots, is the self-proclaimed sex machine, John E. Depth. He throws his arms out at his sides and poses for the fans with a huge smile on his face. He then sticks his tongue and touches the tip of his nose with it.~
Smith: The feel of grime never seems to expire whenever I see this man
Hood: Maybe he can do a Muffles…lose the beard and stache…then his opponent might run away like Townsend. He might get a win if that were to happen
Smith: I doubt it
~With a chuckle he claps his hands and walks down to the ring, bobbing his head and waving his arms as he practically dances his way down to the ring. John E. slaps hands with a fan or two as he passes by them. Upon arriving at ringside, John E. runs up the ring steps, walks along the ring apron and turns to the crowd with his fingers in a V shape, flicking his tongue between them in a suggestive gesture, then whips his head back with a loud WOOP! John then slips under the ropes and enters the ring, swaying and dancing as he dry humps the air while making ass slap gestures.~
Belvedere: ....STANDING AT 6'2" AND WEIGHING IN AT 230 POUNDS.... JOHN EEEEEE. DDDDDEEEEPPPPPPTTTTTTHHHH!!!
~Surprisingly, the OCW crowd cheers for a long standing alumni member of the promotion's roster.~
Belvedere: AND HIS OPPONENT! FROM LOS ANGELES CALIFORNIA...
~"For the Glory" plays through the house speakers with a loud and heavy bass thud. Across the stage in a deafening staccato of explosions, several columns of pyro sparks burst along the stage. As the explosions die down, the curtains part to allow the entry of a bronzed god of a man with spiked blond hair and a chiseled jaw that could split glass with but a mere touch. His body ripples with power, every muscle twitching and flexing as he stands and stares at the crowd with intensity. He curls his biceps as he dips forward, then whips his arms back as all the pyro columns explode out from either side of himself like waves of expelled energy. The black trunks upon his pelvis blazed with his name, BRUCE RAGE, Alpha symbols emblazoned upon his knee pads and the corners of his boots, all in a bold and broken golden metallic print.~
Smith: What a physical specimen!
Hood: I see our drug testing policy remains the same
Smith: Don’t go mentioning drug testing when you see Rage unless you’re willing to address the obvious issues with Scott Syren and Iggy Hardy
~Bruce makes his way with a cocky swagger to ringside, seemingly oblivious to the people around him. Arrogance defines him by expression alone with a cocky smirk and creased brows as his feet meet those ring steps one after the other. He wastes little time entering the ring. He steps to the center of the ring, the lights dimming with a single golden spotlight shining down upon him. There he starts performs common bodybuilder poses in order to better show his physique. Front lateral spread, a slow curl into a classic front double bicep, then a twist into a side chest and then finally a turn into a back double bicep pose that ends with him spinning back around to face the camera with his arms whipping out at both sides. All four columns in the ring explode with pyro sparks, followed by more sparks raining down from the ceiling above and down onto the ring.~
Beleveder: STANDING AT 6' 5" AND WEIGHING IN AT 300 pounds.... BBBBBRUCE RRRRRRAAAAAGGGGEEE!!!!
~With a grin, he stands and nods at his opponent at ringside, then draws his thumb across his throat in a cut throat gesture. John E stands outside the ring, looking at Bruce in a manner that gives away that he'd never seen such a scary specimen of physical strength in his life!~
Smith: A very ominous warning given by Rage
Hood: Ominous? It was pretty straight fucking forward if you ask me
~Bruce steps back, sweeping his arm in invitation for John E Depth at the canvas while shouting, "COME ON! THE WATER'S FINE LITTLE MAN!"~
Hood: Was that ‘ominous’ as well?
Smith: No, I think what he yelled was pretty clear
~Taking a hard gulp, John E throws his Hawaiian shirt and shades towards the time keeper's table, then runs his fingers through his hair while taking several deep breaths. Referee Scruff stands in the ring calling out, "GET IN THE RING, J-E!"~
Smith: Let’s hope Depth doesn’t have a heart attack before getting started
Hood: Dude fucks like fifteen chicks and six dudes a week. I’m sure his heart is in solid shape
Smith: Too much information
~It's when Bruce steps back once more and throws his arms out at his sides, his hands waving in a beckoning motion that John E finally slide under the ropes and came at Bruce with great fury. He rushes in with loud, smacking body shots to Bruce's torso while throwing his shoulder into him, trying to drive the significantly more massive man back. Bruce playfully turns and slings him aside, sending him to the mat with enough force to skid him almost through the ropes on the other side!~
Smith: Well that didn’t work
Hood: I think Depth needs to grab a weapon. Like a steel chair or maybe a shotgun
Smith: Thankfully we do not have any firearms at ringside
~Bruce slaps his muscular chest and shouts, "COME AT ME BRO!!!! FOR REALS THIS TIME!" John E wipes his face, looking back and forth at the ref and Bruce in disbelief. He then pulls himself on the ropes, slaps his face a couple times and moves into a workers walk with the massive wrestler before him. Bruce doesn't even pay him much mind, instead, turning his back to John E and throwing his arms up and pointing to the roof. As John E asks the Ref "What the hell is he doing?" Bruce then brushes his shoulder off and smirks, nodding to the crowd~
Smith: Rage at ease thus far. I think it’s pretty obvious he realizes Depth poses very little threat
Hood: Oh yea…that is until Depth bleeds.
Smith: This isn’t another AIDS joke, is it?
Hood: It wasn’t, but I like where your head’s at
~At that point John E's eyes light up and his lip contorts with rage! He rushes in hammering Bruce's back with several overhand blows, then locks him into a rear waistlock. With a roar of effort, John E manages to pick up the massive mound of human muscle and brings his head and shoulders slamming straight to the mat for a German Suplex Pin!~
ONE!
T-KICKOUT!!!
Smith: John E Depth executed a move!
Hood: There’s got to be some type of term for what he was trying to do…sexually
Smith: He was trying a German Suplex…a move he pulled off, Hood
~Bruce manages to effortlessly power out, his reaction only slowed by the shock that John E Depth attempted the move in the first place, let alone succeeded. Bruce powers out with a tumbling roll to his a crouch, rising to his feet along with John E who comes rushing at him, only for Bruce to lunge forward with a devastating Lariat that nearly turns the low-budget pornstar inside out. He flips wildly from the impact and lands on his belly, eyes glazed over and staring out into nothingness. Bruce dusts his hands off and shouts, "WHAT A JOKE!!!"~
Smith: Bruce finding Depth’s in ring abilities to be funnier than Harold’s comedy from earlier this evening
Hood: Not like that was the highest bar to clear, Smith
Smith: An opinion I must agree with
~He then gathers his stunned foe up by the scruff of his neck and violently hurls him into the corner. John E lands draped over the corner with his back to Bruce. The Rage Train backs up a few paces, then shouts out "CHOO CHOO MOTHERFUCKER!" and barrels ahead at full steam and driving a powerful clubbing Lariat blow to the back of John E's head that drops him straight to the canvas.~
Smith: This is getting ugly
Hood: I really need to find out how much Depth gets paid to get his ass kicked. I’m sure it’s not enough
Smith: Probably more than he makes on his films
Hood: What are you talking about? Slam Buss was the most searched Google term of 2018!
Smith: Allow me to steal a line you’re so comfortable with…FAKE NEWS
~Bruce gathers John E up and lifts him up to horizontal to his chest. Bruce gazes at the crowd with an evil sneer before whipping back and sending John E across the ring with a FALLAWAY SLAM!!! John E lands like a broken rag doll on the canvas, bouncing and rolling through the ropes in a way that leaves him half hanging out of the ring!~
Smith: Rage really taking the time to showcase his abilities. I think this man is headed for big things in OCW
Hood: Again, let me remind you that he’s in there with John E Depth. So let’s pump the fucking brakes
~Rage rolls over on all fours after the Fallaway, doing hand clap push ups in rapid succession, ten total, then hops to his feet with a loud WOOP! He then gathers John E by the leg and drags his lifeless body to the middle of the ring. From there, he positions himself above the man's head and dips down to deadlift him up into a standing head-scissor. Bruce, holding John E's head firmly between his muscular thighs despite the man no longer having the power to remain standing on his own two feet anymore, raises his arms out at his sides and shouts out, "I'M THE FUTURE!!!!!"~
Smith: I think this one is just about over!
Hood: Rage sharing your sentiment…he, too, thinks he’s destined for greatness
Smith: From what we’ve seen…who could argue?
~Bending down, he wraps his arms around John E's waist and whips him up onto his shoulders, holding him up in a Crucifix position. Bruce takes a step back and then whips John E up and over to plunge him to the canvas with a Last Ride Powerbomb style finish that is absolutely devastating. John E hits the canvas with enough force that he bounces on impact, landing dead center in the middle of the ring with all the livelihood of a corpse. Bruce plants a foot on John E's chest and crosses his arms as the Ref begins the count.~
ONE!
TWO!!!
TTTTHHHHRRREEEEE!!!
~DING DING DING~
Belvedere: Here is your winner….BRUCE RAGE!!!!!
~Bruce steps back as "For the Glory" hit's the PA system, fists raised in triumph to the crowd~
Smith: Dominating win by Bruce Rage! The roster had better be on notice…Bruce Rage is here and he’s ready to make a name for himself!
Hood: Again, let’s see him in there against legit competition. But, yea, he’s got a lot of muscles so I’m sure he’ll do fine
Smith: Indeed!
Houston: “What the heck is this?”
~He walks in and sees Curt Canon working on a sign.~
Ed Houston: “What are you doing?”
~Curt looks shocked but then turns around~
Curt Canon: “Oh, hi Ed! I just wanted to say I thought your idea was great. Team Rocket. I’m down. Let’s shock the world!”
Houston: “Uh, how did you get in here and how did you get all these balloons in here so fast!”
Canon: “That’s what us elite athletes do.”
Houston: “Um, okay. Well let me think about I guess.”
~Just then there’s a knock on the door. Curt has an overjoyed look on his face as Houston looks even more confused~
Canon: “Oh great. He's here! Come on in.”
~Checkers walks into the room in a full astronaut costume~
Canon: “Look! Checkers can be the mascot! Look at that!”
~Houston looks at Checkers and back at Canon who looks eagerly back. Houston sighs in disgust and pushes past Checkers, slamming the door behind him. Canon looks slightly disappointed and sighs as he looks back at Checkers~
Canon: “Man. I really thought he’d like that.”
~The camera pans across the elaborate balloon set up behind cutting away~
Singles Match
Muffles the Bunny (Warren Lapierre) (5-5) vs. Shootah (0-2)
Belvedere: THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL! INTRODUCING FIRST.... FROM BUNNYMAN RIDGE....
~”Bad Bunny” by Radioactive Chicken Heads begins to play. Muffles appears in the crowd, accompanied by the sound of guitar riffs and screeching. A bright orange baseball bat slung casually over his shoulder. He strolls down before he begins to walk along the top of the barricade. He hops down and makes his way to roll into the ring.~
Belvedere: STANDING AT 6'3" AND WEIGHING IN AT 236 POUNDS.... MMMMMUUUUFFFFFLLLLEEESSS THA' BBBBBUUUUNNNNNYYYYYY!!!!
~Muffles stares at the crowd with a confused look in his eye and a grin on his UNMASKED face....~
Belvedere: AND HIS OPPONENT....
Crowd: MUFFLES GONNA' KILL YOU! MUFFLES GONNA' KILL YOU!!!
Belvedere: ...FROM CLEVELAND OHIO....
~The opening, pulsating beat of 'Control' hits the sound system as the overhead lights dim. Lights in various shades of blue flicker into being, moving with the rhythm of the music. The backbeat kicks in as THE TRASHMAN strides out from behind the curtain with a large black Trashbag over his shoulder, HIS expression a focused mask of neutrality that betrays nothing as to what she is thinking. TRASHMAN's head turns, HIS gaze taking in the crowd and HIS surroundings much the way a sniper would scan over a battlefield with a piercing gaze. Once HE is satisfied that all is as it should be, HE begins HIS walk to the ring. It's a no-muss, no-fuss sort of affair for her--the fans ignored due to HIS focus resting solely upon the ring. It's about at the bottom of the ramp that HE speeds up, a sudden burst of speed all the more HE needs to slide into the ring on HIS stomach. Quickly regaining HIS feet, the final three words of the chorus (such as it is) sounding out as HE pops up to HIS feet. His every action is in mockery of the woman who failed to show up this night and was replacing, SIOBAHN TOWNSEND.~
I WANT DONUTS.
~There is no pandering to the fans, no indicator of paying them any mind--instead? TRASHMAN simply makes HIS way to the corner, waiting in silence while HIS music fades.~
Belvedere: ....STANDING AT 6' 2" AND WEIGHING IN AT 283 lbs. STANDING IN FOR SIOBHAN TOWNSEND, THE TRASHMAN!!!
Smith: The TRASHMAN?
Hood: Good, maybe he can remove some of these fans
Smith: I'm receiving word that Shootah fainted when he found out he had a match tonight. So they had to find a quick substitute for the substitute
Hood: CLASSIC OCW BABY
~Trashman's attire consists of an all tan jump suit, brown work boots with matching fingerless gloves, and a ball cap, which long curly black hair practically explodes from. The beard on his face is bushy and thick.~
Hood: You know what? Trashman might actually be sexier than Townsend.
Smith: Oh will you STOP!
Hood: ....no.... heh, I'm sorry but if you sign up for a show, you should at least call and let people know that 'Hey, I'm not showing up!' Then we can book someone other than local trash talent at the last minute.
Smith: This is true, but Siobahn might have had a family emergency, maybe her car flipped on a highway?
Hood: Or she could've killed her family and is watching the show while eating fruit loops.
Smith: Dude!
Hood: Hey, could be a possibility!
~Muffles waves at the crowd, uncertain of where he is or what's really going on. He seems oblivious to the Referee trying to get his attention and then giving up, motioning for the bell.~
*DING DING DING*
~Suddenly Trashman comes in from behind as Muffles stares obliviously at the crowd, hammering him with thudding blows to his back and sending him for a whip. Muffles returns to eat a standing dropkick from the big man that drops him instantly! Muffles seems confused and disoriented as Trashman gathers him up by the arm and pulls him right into a standing clothesline, falling with him for a pinfall.~
ONE-
KICKOUT!!
Smith: Near fall! Dare I say if Muffles…err Lapierre were to lose this…would he put the mask back on?
Hood: If he were an ugly fucker, like Bob, I might say yes
~Muffles rolls a shoulder and shoves Trashman off of him. The two roll to their feet and immediately are trading blows, but the Bunny jabs win out with a tap tap, RIGHT CROSS combination that sends Trash stumbling back.~
Smith: And he’s back in it!
Hood: I’d hope so…I mean he’s facing a fucking Trashman
~Trash spins around, going for a discuss clothesline and walks right into a Bunny Kick to the gut and a stiff lariat that rocks The Trashman off his feet and sends his ball cap flying, the large man's nest of curly hair on display for all to see! Muffles was no longer disoriented, but focused like a laser beam on his foe!~
Smith: Nice head of hair for Trashman
Hood: Yea, he’s not going bald…so he’s got that going for him
~Muffles rushes to the ropes, bunny hops three times and drops with a sharp elbow to Trash's sternum. There, he goes for a pin!~
ONE!
TWO-KICKOUT!!!
Smith: He almost had him!
Hood: Trashmen are tough…I saw one fall off the back of a garbage truck once.
Smith: And?
Hood: I don’t know…he’s a fucking trash man, I just kept driving
~Trashman rolls a shoulder up and Muffles rises, pulling him to his feet. He then whips the man to the corner and rushes in with a brutal Lariat, followed immediately by several clubbing lariats, Trashman sweat spattering in multiple directions with each body thrashing blow! On the final shot, Muffles rears back and hits him with a shot so powerful that Trashman's feet lift off the canvas and he immediately falls to a seat in the corner!~
Smith: Whew…
Hood: Get a whiff of Trash?
Smith: Uh, no…just taken back by the aggressiveness of Muffles
Hood: I smell trash
~Muffles stomps and kicks his opponent brutally in the corner, rage overtaking him. Sweat trickles down Muffles' brow, the heat of the suit getting to him as it always did. He doesn't stop until the referee pulls him off and that's when Puff gets leveled off his feet with a spinning Lariat! Muffles stands there, confused, not sure of why or what he just did.~
Smith: And down goes Puff!
Hood: A mercy killing from Muffles. Puff is a wrestling purist and, well, it was probably killing him to officiate this one
~Seeing the referee down, Trashman pulls a pair of brass knuckles from his pants and slips them on. He hops to his feet and belts Muffles across the back of the head with a violent shot that knocks him off his feet! There's a huge booing from the crowd, disapproving of Trashman's action.~
Smith: That cheater!
Hood: Did you see him hop? Totally stealing Muffles style, man
Smith: Everyone hops, Hood
Hood: Not like that they don’t
~He just waves them off and walks over to the massive trash bag in his corner. From there, he pulls out a large sack, nickles falling from the open end, which he quickly ties shut....~
Smith: Hmm
Hood: That’s what we call HOOD RICH
Smith: You going to stand by what you just said?
Hood: I don’t know…do the words exist in six foot tall physical lettering?
Smith: You’re nowhere near six feet tall
~Shockingly, Muffles is already starting to get to his feet, a hand to the back of his head. He fights to his feet, wincing when he suddenly see Trashman running at him. Muffles responds with another Bunny Kick, this time with enough force to drop Trash man to his knees. Muffles sees the sock, picks it up and turns just as Trashman's getting to his feet. Muffles gives the bag of hot nickels a whirl and hits Trashman with enough force that the bag explodes on impact, nearly a hundred dollars worth of nickels flying in multiple directions from the savage shot! Trashman's brow is split from the blow, blood running down his face as he lay flat on his back out cold. Muffles tosses the bag aside and shoots a rather sinister grin at the crowd.~
Smith: OUCH!
Hood: And there goes his yearly salary…ALL OVER THE RING
~He reaches down, grabbing Trash's wrist and half pulling him to a sit up. There, he signals to the crowd for the finish, then pulls Trashman to his feet and straight into the IL TAV ID RIPCORD KNEE!!! The crowd pops as Referee Scruff rushes down to ringside, slides into the ring, and starts counting as Muffles falls across his foe and hooks both legs!~
Smith: Good night, sweet prince
ONE!!!
TWO!!! TTTTHHHHRRRREEEE!!!
~DING DING DING~
Belvedere: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH.... MMMMMMUFFLES THA' BBBBBBBBUUUUUNNNNNNNYYYYYY!!!
~Muffles rises, a hand still to the back of his head as Scruff raises his arm in the air. The unmasked bunnyman nods his head, chuckling almost nervously the whole time.~
Smith: A huge win for Muffles…or, should I say…Warren Lapierre
Hood: Can I call him Muffles Lapierre? I don’t want to leave the memories alone…whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean
Smith: I think it means don’t add goofy CGI into a near flawless, twenty year old film
Hood: Whoa
Smith: Sorry, lost my cool there. Regardless…Muffles…Warren Lapierre…he was, is successful this evening. I think this may be the start of something special
Hood: Nothing can be more special than Muffles the fucking Bunny. But he could be more successful
Smith: Indeed
~Scene cuts to an old, dusty dive bar. The place probably paid off someone to remain open, because calling it a shit hole would be putting it nicely~
~At the bar, The Incredible One and Mack O’Connor sit next to each other. It looks as if TIO has a beer, and Mack sips on a glass of whiskey while smoking a cigarette. It appears that they are finishing up a long conversation~
Mack: …and that’s what happened. I really didn’t have a choice, considering the situation. So she’s dead, and the motherfuckers who made me do it walked away with clean hands.
TIO: Who else knows about this?
Mack: Them. Me. And now you.
TIO: Hm.
~TIO sips his beer. Mack takes a quick drag off his cigarette~
Mack: We’ve both done our time in the wonderful underworld… I know enough about you to know that you know not to share this information with anyone.
TIO: You’d be right about that.
Mack: Good.
TIO: So what’s up? What’s the purpose of this? Why tell me all that?
Mack: Well…
~Mack downs the rest of his whiskey, signaling the bartender for another one. He takes another drag while he waits~
Mack: Despite the fact I still think you’re a douche bag… Despite the fact that I know you’ve done some shady shit in your day… Despite the fact that maybe, just maybe, you deserve to feel what you’re feeling…
~TIO tenses up for a moment, glaring at Mack~
TIO: What the fuck…
Mack: Relax. I know I deserved what I went through. I can’t say if you do. That’s up to you.
~TIO takes a breath~
Mack: Either way… Despite all that, I simply know what it’s like. I know how it feels. I know how you feel. I thought I’d reach out. Despite how I feel about you, you’ve seemed to try to be a better man. I once said I’d respect you if you did. Well… Respect.
~Mack puts out his cigarette, then downs the new shot of whiskey. He looks to the bartender~
Mack: The tab please.
~The bartender acknowledges, going to get the check~
TIO: So? Why reach out?
Mack: Honestly?
TIO: Sure.
Mack: When everything went down… I probably could have used someone reaching out. Granted, I didn’t say shit to anyone. I couldn’t. So it never happened… But I could have fuckin’ used it. That’s why I snapped the way I did. That’s why I forced your daughter to throw in the towel. That fuckin’ rage… I’m not necessarily proud of that. But it is what it is.
~TIO rolls his eyes. Mack looks at the check as the bartender drops it. Mack starts counting out some cash~
Mack: Anyway, I’ve been where you’re at. It fuckin’ sucks, man. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy… Maybe Meyhu.
~TIO lets out a small laugh. Mack drops some cash for the bill. He looks to the bartender~
Mack: Keep the change.
TIO: You don’t have to do that, man.
~Mack stands up~
Mack: Nah, I got it. I called you up. Don’t worry. If you need any help with Rowe, you let me know. Guy’s a fuckin’ prick, yeah?
~TIO extends a hand~
TIO: I appreciate the gesture, Mack.
~Mack hesitates, but he shakes TIO’s hands~
Mack: I’m still not calling you Incredible, Tartare.
~TIO smiles, shaking his head~
TIO: Fair enough.
~Mack turns to leave. After a moment, TIO turns and calls after him~
TIO: Mack.
~Mack stops as he reaches the door, turning back. He gives a nod as if to say “What’s up?”~
TIO: When I get my hands on Rowe… That rage… Does it help?
~Mack lets out a small chuckle~
Mack: Catharsis in its purest of forms.
~They give each other a respectful nod. Mack turns and walks out the door. TIO takes another moment to solemnly sip his beer~
~The scene cuts to the backstage area where we see Jack Puffer strolling down the hall. He is giggling at a picture someone sent him over the phone through facebook messenger. He clicks on the emoji icon and selects the vomit emoji. Someone off camera bumps into him and causes for his phone to land on the ground~
Puffer: Hey watch it bud! Why are you in such a hurry?
~Puffer scans the ground and finds his phone underneath a stack of chairs. He bends down to pick it up and examines it. ~
Puffer: Lucky I have this expensive phone case.
~His phone begins to buzz in his hand and we can see the message on-screen. ~
“Come quick to the Wrestler’s locker room. Houston has a problem.”
Hood: It seems like something has happened in front of the wrestler’s locker room.
Smith: Thanks, I can read.
~When Puffer reaches the locker room, several wrestlers have gathered around as Puffer pushes his way through~
Smith: is that Ed Houston?
Hood: looks like someone attacked him.
~Ed Houston is laying on the ground holding his head as Puffer starts to shoo people away. ~
Puffer: back away, back away. This is a crime scene. I don’t want anyone tampering with any evidence. Go back to what you were doing, nothing to see here.
~The wrestlers begin to retreat into the locker room as Puffer bends down and examines The Rocketman~
Puffer: Ed. Did you see who attacked you?
~Ed Houston shakes his head. ~
Puffer: Where did he hit you, from the front or from the back?
Ed Houston: Well if he hit me from the front, I would have seen him.
Puffer: Have a seat sir.
~Puffer helps Ed Houston to sit down, and then brings out a notepad. ~
Puffer: okay, I have some questions for you. Where were you when you were attacked?
Ed Houston: I was here man. What the heck?
Hood: No Worries. Puffer is on the case, he will get to the bottom of this.
Smith: I highly doubt that.
~Puffer jots some notes down on his notepad. Then surveys the area. There are tables and chairs out and about, nothing out of the ordinary. Puffer walks towards the direction of the locker room and notices a brick in the front of the entrance. He picks it up and tosses it in the trash~
Puffer: Who the hell is doing construction work backstage?
~Puffer surveys the scene and then walks back to Houston. ~
Puffer: nothing out of the ordinary. What do you think you were hit with?
Ed Houston: I don’t know, it felt like a brick.
Puffer: Hmm. a brick? Why would anyone be carrying around a brick backstage? Do you have any enemies? Anyone that might want to hurt you?
Ed Houston: Probably half of the roster, I don’t know man. Can I go now and get my head checked? I don’t want to have a concussion.
Puffer: just one more question. Why do you think someone would want to attack you?
~Ed Houston shake his head and gets up to leave~
Hood: That’s some great investigative work being done by Puffer.
Smith: We have a mysterious attacker on the loose. And Puffer just threw away the evidence.
~Puffer begins to pace around and brings out a smoking pipe and places it in his mouth. He has no intention of lighting it up~
Smith: he looks like a bootleg Sherlock Holmes
Hood: Where is Watson?
Puffer: So if the assailant attacked Mr. Houston from behind with a brick like object, where did they put the brick? I have been walking backstage the whole time and did not see anyone with a brick. I did not encounter anyone that was acting weird or suspicious or who seemed to be fleeing from the scene of a crime.
Smith: What about the person that bumped into him earlier? That person seemed to be in a hurry.
Hood: Maybe they had places to be.
Smith: We have to get on to the next match. Let’s hope the Rocketman is okay.
Singles Match
OGDA (1-1) vs. Michael O’Neil (0-2)
~The fans are buzzing, in more ways than one. It’s a Monday night in Key West so there is a lot to be buzzed about. It’s a fresh start! A new chapter in the gigantic, ever growing tome known as OCW. Belvedere clears his deep, beautiful throat bringing the fans to their feet at full attention~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…our next match is a singles match scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~A rainbow shoots over the entrance way....~
"Most of the time I guess I am!"
~OGDA runs out from the back to a huge pop from every Shining Star in attendance!~
"But if there's trouble I'll be there
~The Rainbow Warriors are flooding the ramp area to the ring just to get close to OGDA!
"Look at me go!
~Highfives!
"Flying through the sky,
Fighting the bad guys,
There's no need to fear
Cuz I'll be here"
~The children are reunited with their parents!
"I'll be your superhero"
~Everyone! Sing along!~
Belvedere: Introducing next…From the hearts of every Shining Star in the world, from the Smiles of each and every single little buddy that has graced God's green earth…standing 6’3 and weighing in at 320ish lbs…Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris!!!
~OGDA slides into the ring upon hearing his name. He stands tall and triumphant~
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~"20/20" by Crown the Empire hits. The crowd gives a small reaction. Michael O’Neil emerges atop the stage, from behind the curtain. He hustles down the ramp and slides into the ring. He pops to his feet and acknowledges the crowd, who responds with a positive pop.~
Belvedere: Introducing first, from Osaka, Japan…standing 6’1 and weighing in at 236lbs…Michael O’Neil!!!
~Belvedere exits the ring. The bell sounds~
Smith: Well this is a rematch of sorts. A few weeks ago O’Neil and OGDA were involved in a triple threat with a Paradigm Title shot on the line. Andrea Hernandez emerged victorious after getting a somewhat fluky pin fall on OGDA
Hood: I’ll pretend that I remember all of this
Smith: Thanks for playing along. And, as we all saw, Andrea went on to capture the Paradigm Title at Mayhem on the Midway. The march toward Serial Thrillers is underway so I’m sure this match will serve as some sort of unofficial qualifier for a spot on that card.
Hood: We have to have OGDA on the card. The guy wears a mask 24/7. We’ve got to throw him a bone and put him on the show that’s two days before Halloween
Smith: You have to earn those spots, Hood. We’ll see if OGDA is capable of doing that
~O’Neil sizes up OGDA. He obviously remembers the strength and explosiveness OGDA possesses from their previous encounter. OGDA, meanwhile, appears more focused than we’ve seen him. The fact he missed Mayhem on the Midway has not set well with the masked competitor. O’Neil approaches the middle of the ring, slowly. OGDA comes rushing out of his corner, toward O’Neil. O’Neil circles OGDA, using his superior quickness to keep OGDA from steamrolling through him for an early advantage~
Smith: O’Neil seems a bit pensive heading into this encounter. The last time these two faced off Andrea Hernandez was in the mix. She obviously diverted some of OGDA’s attention. Tonight his sole focus is on O’Neil.
Hood: Did you call O’Neil a pencil? I know he’s not the biggest guy in the world, but c’mon
Smith: I said pensive!
~OGDA, showing a hint of impatience, lunges for O’Neil. O’Neil side steps the lunge and wraps his arms around OGDA’s waist, from behind. OGDA staggers around…he reaches behind, trying to snare O’Neil. O’Neil is too quick and OGDA’s arms are too bulky to reach far enough to snare a solid grasp. OGDA finally chooses the most sensible route. He grabs O’Neil by the arms and tries to pull his grip apart. It’s working! OGDA’s strength is probably close to unmated on OCW’s roster. He’s a big guy. He manages to separate O’Neil’s arms and slings him around. O’Neil kicks OGDA in the gut and tosses him with an arm drag!! OGDA pops to his feet only to be met with a dropkick!! OGDA stumbles back, through the ropes, landing on the apron. O’Neil pops back to his feet. The crowd applauds his effort~
Smith: Quick offense by Michael O’Neil! He’s in the same spot as OGDA…both men are loaded with talent…they just need that one signature win
Hood: Yea O’Neil’s been fucked ever since Rowe blew him off.
Smith: That was a stifling blow in his OCW debut. However losing to Talia Areano last week didn’t help matters either. He was an overwhelming favorite in that one
Hood: Guy might wind up being one of those ‘coulda been’ careers
Smith: Looking that way
~OGDA gets to his feet, shaking his head repeatedly, stunned. O’Neil hits the ropes, bounces off and charges at OGDA. He leaps in the air legs first looking for a hurricanrana…OGDA, though, catches O’Neil!! OGDA tosses O’Neil into the ring with a Jacknife Powerbomb!! O’Neil hits hard, arching his back in pain. OGDA leaps over the top rope, back into the ring showing tremendous athleticism as well as an amazing ability to recover~
Smith: OGDA caught O’Neil and, well, he paid for it
Hood: Yep, O’Neil is gonna have to declare bankruptcy to escape this mess
Smith: I don’t think that plea is acceptable inside an OCW ring, Hood
Hood: No loopholes within those ropes!
~OGDA snares O’Neil by his red beard, pulling him to his feet. O’Neil shoves OGDA off and throws a right hand! OGDA’s head barely moves. His eyes widen. He wags his finger in O’Neil’s face. O’Neil has that ‘OH SHIT’ expression. He tries to get away but OGDA delivers a massive forearm uppercut!! O’Neil staggers into a corner. OGDA presses forward with punches to the head and gut. He unleashes a flurry! The crowd goes wild!! He finishes with a resounding right handed roundhouse punch that nearly sends O’Neil over the ropes, to the outside. OGDA takes a few steps back and allows O’Neil to stumble forward before falling on his face~
Smith: OGDA is pummeling O’Neil! This match may not last much longer!
Hood: I guess O’Neil needs Andrea in there to stand a chance against this masked weirdo
Smith: He certainly appeared far more effective under those circumstances
~Again, OGDA pulls O’Neil to his feet. Michael throws a wild right hand. OGDA ducks and locks in a Coquina Clutch!!! The crowd rises to their feet!! O’Neil tries to fight for a few seconds until quickly succumbing to the suffocation. OGDA takes him to the mat, wrapping his legs around O’Neil’s body, increasing the pressure! O’Neil reaches around for a few moments, trying to find the ropes~
Smith: He’s got it locked in!
Hood: What? He’s got WHAT locked in?
Smith: A submission maneuver he calls…Cloud 9!
Hood: O’Neil will forever hate that strange idiom…where did that come from, by the way?
Smith: I don’t know! I’m calling a match!
~O’Neil is about to be choked out. So, he does what any mortal, non mask wearing man would do. He taps out!! The crowd goes wild!! Scruff calls for the bell before rushing to get OGDA off of O’Neil~
Belvedere: Here is your winner… Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris!!!!!
Smith: What a win for OGDA! He looked absolutely dominating tonight
Hood: Yea, well he’s better than Michael O’Neil, that’s for damn sure
Smith: Yes and, unfortunately I think we can pull the plug on the O’Neil experiment
Hood: Guy just didn’t have it
Smith: Indeed…but this isn’t about his failures…this is about OGDA and his success. He looks primed for a major spot at Serial Thrillers
Hood: Well he’s got the appropriate head gear
~OGDA breaks the hold fairly quickly. Quick enough to not come off as a dick. He gets to his feet and celebrates his dominating victory with the fans~
Smith: OGDA rolls on!
Hood: Speaking of Cloud 9
Smith: Impressed with his finisher?
Hood: Uh, sure, whatever…but I’m talking about the actual term. I’m reading that it USED to mean…or was originally supposed to indicate a state of intoxication. Head in the clouds kind of thing. But now it’s sort of morphed into a state of idyllic happiness. So, there ya go
Smith: You really do get hung up on the strangest things
Hood: Useless facts are my forte
I have just the thing to wear
I'm a superhero"
It's mayhem!
It's Madness!
Sally is sad cuz she didn't get a hug!~
I'm a superhero
Look at me go"
Hugs!
Lowfives!
Selfies!
All of this going on as OCW's Superhero makes his way to the ring....~
Everyone is happy!
Sally got a hug!
There is so much happiness as the OGDA rolls into the ring and climbs the nearest set of turnbuckles!~
~The scene opens to Cassidy Global Sports LLC in downtown Miami. From the outside looking in, it appears to be a regular day in the office. Business as usual. Sheila the receptionist seems busy doing whatever it is she earns a weekly salary doing. Just behind her shoulder, the smoke stained glass makes it hard to see inside the boss, Treat Cassidy’s office. But it appears that he is out of the office. Sheila’s landline rings, she’s quick to snap the receiver off the hook.~
Sheila: Cassidy Global Sports, how may I help you this blissful morning?
~Treat Cassidy is such a suck ass stuffed shirt that I bet my life he has cue-cards of how his employees must answer the phone. ~
Sheila: Oh, hey Mr. Cassidy. Yes sir. He will be here at 2:30pm. No sir. No sir. Yes sir. Yes sir. Okay sir. No problem sir. You too!
~Sheila clicks the receiver down on the holder with a classless burp, she notices her right tit is hanging out, so she with grace, she adjusts her slutty top. She fakes a smile and lets out another bigger burp clutching her stomach.~
Hood: Doesn’t this bitch realize she’s on camera???
Smith: I don’t think she realizes that, or else she may of tried to hold that in a little.
Hood: Not a bad set though, you get what I mean?
Smith: Do you think burping and dropping a breast on camera will get you written up while employed by Treat Cassidy?
Hood: You do realize he represents two drunks and a COMPLETE fucking animal drug addict right?
Smith: But I don’t think that’s indicative of how Treat lives his life.
Hood: Of course not, idiot! But he’s making millions off of them! Three of the biggest draws in professional wrestling for the past 20 years!
Smith: Look at you!
Hood: It’s my duty to put over LEGENDS. Get off it.
~As Sheila gets back to work, burping up her taco salad she had for an early lunch, the cameras pan the smoke stained glass door of Treat’s office. As if like a perfect camera trick, the cameras pan from inside the office. Faint moaning is heard. The moaning gets louder and louder. LOUDER and even LOUDER as we realize some bitch is getting BANGED OUT. The camera zooms out and we see IGGY HARDY sitting at Treat’s desk watching a bukkake porn video. Except, one gal is working the bukkake sandwich while another woman gets gang banged by the Tennessee Volunteers. Iggy is leaned into the computer screen, eyes wide in amazement. Drool builds up in the corner of his mouth as if he’s Rick from the most popular cartoon on TV today, Rick and Morty. That same dork ass toothy smile sewn on his face. A pile of cocaine to his right, a crack pipe front and center, and a large bowling trophy of some kind to his left.~
Smith: Goodness! Sakes a live! Ladies and gentlemen we are so sorry!
~Smith gets on his radio to the backstage OCW tech guys to quickly blur out Iggy’s computer screen. Even Hood is amazed by Iggy’s choice of porn.~
Hood: I mean, I like public pickups, SLAMBUS style. I also like the backroom casting. I mean, I’ve never seen anything quite like that though.
Smith: Those poor ladies! That’s someone’s daughter!
Hood: If she was my daughter, she would be disowned. She probably is nobody’s daughter then.
Smith: You’re brutal.
Hood: What kind of porn do you like?
Smith: SERIOUSLY?! Never… have I ever!!!
Hood: Uh huh.
~It seems like an eternity has passed us by as Iggy continues with that stoic look on his face, glued to his computer screen. He doesn’t even hear the keys jiggling at the door. Before you know it, the door opens and the lights come on. Iggy snaps out of his daze and X’s out of the browser.~
Treat: WHAT THE HECK!?!?!?
Iggy: Oh hey boss! What it dew?
Treat: What do you mean what it do?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY FREAKIN’ OFFICE!
Iggy: I’m sorry boss, I had to do a couple e-mails. Endorsements. That kind of stuff. Pepsi wants to ride my cock.
Treat: !!?!?
Iggy: Yes sir. Doing one of those TV commercial thingys next week. I thought you knew about it? With Chad’s buddy, Dale Earnhardt Jr.?
Treat: For cripes sake! I’ve told you SO MANY times. NOTHING comes down the pike without my authorization. You and Chad, You and Mack, you guys should not even talk. Okay? All I need you to do is make an butt out of yourself with a billion dollar conglomerate like Pepsi-Cola.
~Iggy chuckles.~
Iggy: I shot up coke with Peter Pepsi a couple weeks ago. Shot that tiger blood right here!
~Iggy taps the side of his neck. Treat cannot believe his ears. Peter Pepsi IIIV. The namesake of the delightful soda. He’s lived the Paris Hilton lifestyle, so it wouldn’t surprise him if he did indeed indulge with Iggy. Treat shakes the thoughts out of his head.~
Treat: I don’t want to hear any of it. I’m not telling you again, Iggy. NOTHING unless I SIGN OFF. You guy’s are going to put me out of business with your decisions!
~Iggy smirks arrogantly as he nods his head, pointing at the Savage championship title belt hanging from a mirror nearby.~
Treat: Yes, we get it. Savage championship. You done great. However that hunk of gold isn’t going to bail you out of anything. You are on thin ice with OCW management. One wrong move, one bad comment, one juicy fart and you’re out of here. I’ve worked TOO hard to get you and the boys back into the hunt. Don’t FUCK IT UP!
~Iggy’s eyes widen with fear mixed with amazement, all this time spent with Treat Cassidy and he’s never heard him swear. An audible Vince McMahon style gulp is seen and heard from Iggy as he nods rapidly.~
Iggy: Yes sir.
Treat: AND WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!
~The cameras turn to the load of cocaine sitting next to Iggy. Iggy gulps again, as he tries to hide the massive mound with his arm.~
Treat: No. THAT! What is THAT monstrosity!?
~The camera turns again. This time to the gigantic cheap ass looking bowling trophy sitting to his left. As we get a closer look, it’s a legitimate bowling trophy. The bowler has his right arm broken off, and it looks like someone, presumably Iggy – drew a large cock in sharpie marker on the bowler’s crotch. Iggy looks over at his trophy and back at his boss. A large smile forms on his red face.~
Iggy: Boss?! What do you mean what is this?
Treat: WHAT IS THAT?
Iggy: Well, boss. I decided to take your advice and “share the wealth.”
Treat: When did I tell you to do that?
Iggy: Maybe it was the voices? Or Lenny? I don’t know but… this is… none other than…. THE… JOSIE BARNES MEMORIAL GRADE III PARTICIPATION TROPHY!!!
~Treat can’t help but to laugh and lighten up a little. The camera zooms in on the trophy, the base actually reads verbatim what Iggy just said. Treat chuckles some more as he checks out the trophy closer.~
Treat: So, I’m assuming you are sharing the wealth by delivering this… uh… piece… to some lucky winner?
Iggy: YES SIR BOSS! You got it! Except…
~Treat puts his arms up as if to give up. Except what he’s thinking.~
Iggy: There are three people I’ve been going back and forth on. FIRST… Mr. Rocket Man, ED HOUSTON himself. Recently losing the CraZe championship to Mike Harrel. Then, we have AX VEEGEL who came OHhhhhhHHHhHHHhHhH so close against Adrian Hernandez! And THEN… of course, you’re going to love this one, because I love him, BOB GRENIER!
~Treat looks skeptical, awaiting the punchline.~
Treat: Why Bob? He’s a former OCW champion, you know?
Iggy: HE CAN’T WIN A MATCH!!! He can’t win a match if he BOUGHT one!!! HAHAHAHA LOL LOL LOL!!!
~Treat shakes his head in despair, embarrassed for his client’s diluted stupidity.~
Treat: Please do not say “LOL” ever again in my presence. LOL means laugh out loud. It is meant to be texted on a computer, cell phone, it isn’t meant to be said… You realize this?
Iggy: Whatevs! Bob Grenier SUCKS and you know it!
~Treat shrugs, as if reminiscing old Bob Grenier stories in his head.~
Treat: Regardless of whom you decide to award this… wonderful hunk of 50 cent crap too, you should realize that Bob may be next in line at your Savage championship, so let’s not talk too much crap.
~Iggy shrugs.~
Iggy: Maybe I should just award it to Josie herself. That poor girl never gave up. Tried and tried she might! Gave it a valiant effort only to LOSE each and every time. I mean I don’t know her story or if she’s still in OCW but I’ll tell ya what boss, I would still let her suck me off… if you can arrange that… I’d be forever grateful.
~Treat feels like his head is going to explode. He buries his head in his hands. Iggy sits there like a moron smiling so happily.~
Treat: Iggy, I mean this with all the respect I can muster. Please get your CRAP and get out of my office. I actually have stuff to do. Go take a shower and please STAY IN YOUR HOTEL ROOM ALL NIGHT.
Iggy: OKIE DOKIE POKIE BOSS! WhateverzzzZZzz. I’ve got SHIT to do myself, ASS BAG!
~Iggy shrugs a little offended at Treat’s blatant disrespect. He grabs his trophy and his Savage championship belt and quickly scadattles out of his office. Treat takes a deep breath as he walks over to his desk and takes a seat at his chair. If he only knew what was on his browsing history… He leans back, relaxing a little bit before he notices the giant pile of coke on his desk.~
Treat: Oh my god… Oh my god… WHAT did I ever do to deserve this? I’ve got 2 ounces of cocaine sitting on my desk?!?!? Oh my god.. Oh my god….
~Before Treat can contemplate what to do with the pile of narcotics on his desk, there’s a knock at the door. Treat could just scream WHAT THE FUCKKKK!!!!???? But, Before he can answer the door flies open and in walks CHAD VARGAS. Treat buries his head on his desk. Vargas walks in and peers around. Treat raises his head up from his desk with cocaine powder all of his lips and chin. Vargas’ eyes widen.~
Vargas: Really? Your clients are really rubbing off on ya buddy.
~Vargas reaches into his back pocket and slides his flask across the top of Treat’s desk.~
Vargas: Might as well take a snap, wash it all down.
~Treat doesn’t get it. And then he feels his lips numb. He rolls back in his chair and realizes his face is covered in cocaine.~
Vargas: I like this side of you, bud.
~Treat frantically wipes the shit off his face. He grabs his trash can and slides the pile of cocaine into the can with the side of his hand.~
Treat: I cannot believe this.
~Treat pushes a button on his landline.~
Treat: Sheila, get a locksmith over here and have all of my locks changed immediately!
~Vargas smirks as he takes a seat at a chair before Treat’s desk. He very casually places his feet up on the desk.~
Vargas: I’ve got shit to do. So what’s going on?
~Treat takes a deep breath, trying desperately to forget the last 10 minutes.~
Treat: I cannot believe the day I’m having. Anyway, Chad – as you know the road in OCW has never been a straight two way street. All my guys have never gotten a fair shake within this company. Right now, we are peaking. We are climbing the ladder, we are collectively traveling with some serious momentum.
~Vargas rolls his eyes making the ‘talking too much’ gesture with his hand.~
Treat: Mack has came so close TWICE. Mack cannot put Meyhu away. It doesn’t seem like anyone can. It’s frustrating. I think if you we’re to have gotten your shot at Lost at Sea you could have beaten him. You had SO much steam behind you and Marcus Welsh put the knife in all our backs. I don’t even want to discuss it because it makes me sick to my stomach. The short end of the conversation is, I have received a memo from Jimmy Buffet himself this morning. At Serial Thrillers, October 29th – Matt Meyhu will defend his OCW championship again.
~Vargas nods.~
Treat: Against none other than…. “THE CONFEDERATE ICON” Chad Vargas! One on one. NO holds barred. NO BULLCRAP! You cannot be suspended. This match will happen one way or another. I’m told you could probably punch Marcus Welsh and any of his men in the mouth and still get the shot. This is huge. This is your time to shine Chad. You are on the cusp of greatness. We cannot let anything stand in our way of dethroning Matt Meyhu. Mack will help you prepare. I want you to ge---
~Vargas looks expressionless. He doesn’t even know what to say. Given the fact he’s been fucked over so many times, over and over again. He doesn’t know how to feel.~
Vargas: Prepare for what? That kid is a wet noodle. Prepare, you’ve gotta be out of your fucking mind! Just book the match, do what ever you need but leave me out of it. I’ll go in to Serial Thrillers and do my job. That’s it. SOMEONE needs to knock this motherfucker down a few pegs and I’m just the guy to do it! OCW needs to prepare for a new sheriff in town. A new champion. A new day has dawned.
~Vargas smirks as he lifts himself from the chair and gets ready to walk out of Treat’s office.~
Treat: There’s a catch….
~Vargas can’t help but to smile.~
Vargas: There always is…
Treat: You need to take a couple bookings. It’s in the contract.
Vargas: Book me then. Do what you gotta. Let it be known that WHEN I defeat Meyhu, I will be a fighting champion the OCW deserves. Not some bourgeois faggot who performs every once a month or so. Just let me know what I’ve gotta do.
Treat: No problem.
~Vargas goes for the door. He reaches for the knob, but stops and looks back at Treat, nodding his head.~
Vargas: Thanks. I know a lot went into getting my spot back. I do appreciate your diligence. And if you talk to anyone in the office, pass my message along to Welsh and his goons.
~Treat nods, as if to say “You got it!”~
Vargas: “FUCK YOU, BITCH!”
~Treat nods tossing a thumbs up. Vargas exits the office shutting the door behind him as the scene fades to…. A pepsi commercial…~
Hood: Chad Vargas gets his shot back!!! Fully restored!!! After being FUCKED months ago he FINALLY gets his rightful shot at Matt Meyhu and the OCW Championship!
Smith: Well Ladies and gentlemen, that’s what we just heard… however, this is not official word. When we hear anything to make this statement OFFICIAL, we will let you all know! But wow, what a match would that be!
Hood: Some may call it a dream match. Two of OCW’s very best go toe to toe for the biggest prize of them all!
Smith: Classic OCW, baby!
Singles Match
Julliet Brooks (7-8) vs. Hellraven (1-1)
~The crowd is discussing the latest spoilers for Game of Thrones that dropped on the Freefolk reddit page. They are shocking, indeed. I mean who would have thought that…~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…our next match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The sounds of a thunderstorm echo across the arena speakers as purplish-blue spotlights come to life near the entrance ramp. At their centre, head down, arms folded, is a tall and slender figure, their long hair falling forward onto their face and partially obscuring it~
~The figure remains in this position until a moment later, when the rainstorm transitions into the iconic opening guitar lead to Slayer's 'Raining Blood'. At the same time as this transition occurs, the blue spotlights go out, leaving the house lights to illuminate what is now clearly seen to be a young woman. As the riff begins, she uncrosses her arms, holding them out to each side in a double show of the metal horns as she indulges in a spot of headbanging~
~Then, as the legendary lead gives way to mid-tempo riffing, the girl makes her way down the ramp, keeping her focus on the ring but not neglecting the occasional outstretched hand in her path. Once at ringside, she scales the steel steps and lets herself in through the middle rope. From there, she makes her way across the mat to the furthest turnbuckle and slumps down into a seated position, her arms resting on her knees. ~
Belvedere: From Tokyo, Japan…standing 5’7 and weighing in at 130lbs…Hellraven!!!
~Hellraven remains in a fixed position, awaiting the arrival of her opponent~
Belvedere: And, her opponent…
~"Down" by Otep hits and out walks Julliet Brooks onto the stage to a chorus of cheers from the audience, simply smiling from ear to ear, and continued to walk down the ramp. Once there she claps some fans hands at ringside then runs and slides underneath the ropes, soaking up the positive reaction. After she leans against the ropes and looks toward Hellraven, showing no intimidation to her opponent~
Belvedere: And, her opponent…from Albuquerque, New Mexico…standing 5’4 and weighing in at 108lbs…she is the Pride of New Mexico…she is…Julliet Brooks!!!
~The bell rings. Belvedere exits. Hellraven stands up and coolly removes her leather jacket, before stepping forward to start the match~
Smith: Interesting match up here, Hood. We’ve got the world famous veteran taking on the talented newcomer.
Hood: Where has Brooks been? I feel like it’s been years since we last saw her
Smith: She’s taken some time away. We all need some personal time, after all. Here’s hoping she’s ready to compete this evening. If not Hellraven could score the biggest win of her young career
Hood: I wouldn’t want to be in the ring with Hellraven. She seems like a biter
Smith: Not sure how you came to that conclusion but whatever
~Hellraven doesn’t waste any time! She rushes toward Brooks, who barely has enough time to leave her corner. Brooks, though, the crafty veteran, is able to matador herself out of Hellraven’s path, tossing Raven into the corner! Stunned, Hellraven turns around, trying to figure out what’s happened. This gives Brooks the opportunity to throw some kicks into the rookie’s abdomen. Brooks then tosses Hellraven out of the corner, back into the center of the ring with a hiptoss. She slides in, snaring Hellraven’s head, applying a chinlock~
Smith: No doubt Hellraven has been anxious for this match all week. It showed as soon as the bell rang
Hood: Yea and it backfired
Smith: Indeed…there is no woman in this sport with more experience than the Pride of New Mexico.
~Brooks leans her weight onto Hellraven, cutting off her wind with the chinlock. Raven may not be a veteran but she knows enough to realize this sucks. So, she rotates onto her knees and throws a few swift elbows into Julliet’s gut. Julliet’s grip loosens, it weakens…and, after one final elbow into the midsection it breaks! Brooks staggers against the ropes. Hellraven gets to her feet…she yells out and charges forward with a clothesline. Brooks ducks! Julliet lifts Hellraven over the top rope all the way to the outside!! Raven hits hard! Brooks remains in the ring, holding her midsection, wincing~
Smith: Some sharp elbows…might have caught a rib
Hood: Yea but she fucked up a second time
Smith: An impetuous youngster. Leaping before she looks
~Brooks steps through the ropes and hops onto the floor. She grabs Hellraven by the hair. Hellraven, though, bull rushes Brooks into the steels steps!! Brooks hits hard, holding her midsection once again. Raven stands up and leans against the apron. Julliet stands upright…Hellraven throws a vicious forearm into the side of Julliet’s head, staggering her. She snares Julliet by the hair and tosses her back into the ring under the bottom rope. Hellraven goes for a pin~
1!
2!
Kick Out!!
Smith: Kick Out by The Pride of New Mexico! It’s going to take more than that to keep her down
Hood: If Hellraven would just calm the fuck down…I think she’d win this
Smith: Yea but you don’t want to take too much away from the energy she possesses. It is a valuable weapon if harnessed correctly
~Hellraven seems a bit frustrated. She takes a little longer than she should to question Scruff on the count. Brooks rolls onto all fours. Hellraven gets to her feet. She grabs Julliet by the hair and pulls her to her feet! Brooks delivers a head butt!! Hellraven staggers into the ropes. Brooks grabs Hellraven and shoots her off the ropes…Hellraven hits the opposite ropes…she bounces off and gets hit with a Butterfly Kick from Brooks!! Hellraven is smacked right in the face! She falls to the mat~
Smith: Nice move by The Pride of New Mexico! We’ve seen her execute that one on several occasions
Hood: Very graceful
Smith: She is extremely graceful
Hood: I would hope so, considering she does a double moonsault to finish matches
~Broooks returns to her feet. She pulls Hellraven up and locks her in a Full Nelson. She lifts Raven up for a Full Nelson Slam. At the peak of the move Hellraven manages to break free…she flips over, grabs Julliet by the head and drops her with a DDT!! The crowd pops for the move!! Brooks rolls onto her back, stunned while Hellraven sits up…she shows lingering effects of the Butterfly Kick~
Smith: What a reversal!
Hood: That young crazy woman is talented
Smith: Indeed and she’s just placed herself in a solid position to win this thing!
Hood: Nah…not over Julliet
Smith: It could happen!
~Raven gets to her feet. Brooks starts to rise. Hellraven leans against the ropes…she waits for Brooks to stand. Julliet gets to her feet. Raven reaches for her…Brooks ducks. Hellraven stumbles and turns around. Brooks throws a superkick! Hellraven ducks! She spins around…Brooks turns around and gets hit with a Discus Lariat (Quoth the Raven)!!! Brooks turns inside out before splatting on the mat, back first! A stunned Hellraven looks down at Brooks for a moment~
Smith: Cover her!
Hood: Stupid kid!
~Hellraven hops on top of Julliet for the cover. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner….HELLRAVEN!!!!!
Smith: She did it! The rookie pulled it off!
Hood: Damn…I have to say, I’m shocked. Not shook. But shocked.
Smith: Thanks for clarifying
Hood: Pretty monumental win for the youngster.
Smith: Indeed…I think this means that she’s coming along quicker than anyone ever anticipated. Could we see her in title contention for Serial Thrillers?
Hood: Why not? Why fucking sit around and wait for someone to collect social security before giving them a push? 18, 19, 20…who gives a fuck…if they earn it, give it to them
Smith: For once, I agree! Unfortunately with every winner…there is a loser. Julliet suffers another setback
Hood: Yea…she hasn’t been the same since San Diego
Smith: Indeed…the Rhodes feud took something from her she’s yet to rediscover. Hopefully that changes because OCW is a better place with a vibrant Julliet Brooks!
Hood: Yea, I’d agree with that
Smith: Anyway…another statement made by a rising star here in OCW. The stars continue to ascend as the roster evolves into the next era of OCW stars.
~The live feed cuts to backstage in the office of Marcus Welsh. He is sitting at his desk signing papers that have Serial Thrillers at the top, with Barry Man is Low standing next to him, arms crossed. His door opens and in walks a man in a business suit, suitcase in hand. The man stops, all smiles, as Welsh looks up from his desk, looking confused.~
Marcus Welsh: Yes, can I help you? I’m a very busy man.
???: No worries sir, I am here to speak to you on behalf of my client, Saxon Rowe. I am his lawyer.
Marcus Welsh: I see… where is Rowe? Is he ever going to show up to a Massacre?
Lawyer: He plans to be here on the 24th of September, for the Massacre that evening. He feels that is adequate time to recover from his injuries. My client also wishes to congratulate you on your victory against Mike Zybala.
Marcus Welsh: That’s great – but like I said, I’m in the middle of some Serial Thrillers business, so we can meet another time—
Lawyer: Actually, Mr. Rowe has sent me here tonight to talk to about Serial Thrillers. My client would like me to read something verbatim that he wrote for you.
~The lawyer opens his briefcase and takes out a sheet of paper. He puts on his reading glasses that were tucked in his chest pocket and clears his throat before speaking.~
Lawyer: Quote… “Yo! Welsh my man! Get me off your beeping card for Serial Thrillers. I did not agree to a beeping match with that piece of beep Mister Not So Incredible. Just because that beep-hole said he wants to see me at Serial Thrillers does not mean I have accepted the beeping match. This is me officially saying no to the beeping match. Thanks man, and remember, come by my shop anytime for a twenty percent discount on haircuts.” End quote.
Marcus Welsh: Did he really say beeping all those times?
Lawyer: I’m afraid not sir, no. His language scares me.
Marcus Welsh: Here’s the deal. Rowe should remember where he debuted, at Lost at Sea. The show where almost every match changed, some got cancelled – it was an absolute shit show. I’m not having that happen again. So, no, the grudge match against TIO is happening, whether he likes it or not.
Lawyer: I’m afraid then sir my client wishes to sue you because he did not sign a contract to be put into a match with Mr. Incredible. My client was also not in a match the night he came out to honor the death of Leslie Bishop and was viciously assaulted on property you were renting that night, and did not protect him.
~Welsh eyes widen as he looks at Barry, who shakes his head.~
Marcus Welsh: Is this bullshit?
Lawyer: I’m afraid not sir. Now, if you stand by your decision, I’ll gladly fax the documents to your legal department. Thank you for your time.
~Rowe’s lawyer nods as he turns to leave but Welsh gets up from his desk.~
Marcus Welsh: Wait! Maybe we can work something out.
~The lawyer turns back around, placing his briefcase back down on Welsh’s desk.~
Lawyer: I can relay an offer to my client.
Marcus Welsh: I don’t want to cancel the match, I know because TIO would be furious but I know Rowe must be furious about the beat down. How about I let Rowe choose the stipulation for the match? Any stipulation of his choosing? Would this please him?
~Welsh extends his hand to shake on it. The lawyer, nods with a smile and accepts the handshake.~
Lawyer: Mr. Welsh, that is exactly what my client wanted. Thank you for your business.
~Rowe’s lawyer finally leaves the office. Welsh sits back down, baffled by the exchange.~
Marcus Welsh: Then why didn’t he just ask if he could pick the stipulation? The idiots I have to deal with sometimes Barry…
~Both of them shake their hands in frustration. There is a knock at the door. Barry moves to answer it. Welsh stops him~
Marcus Welsh: Relax, Barry. I got this
~Welsh stands. He limps at first but quickly masks it. He reaches the door and opens it. He smiles~
Marcus Welsh: Just the man I was expecting! You ready to go out there and make a difference, CHAMP?
~With a smile Welsh exits his office~
“LA… LA, LA LA… Wait Till I Get My Money Right…”
~The crowd begins to BOOO!!! Marcus Welsh emerges trying his best to dance and get JIGGY with Meyhu’s theme. The Marvel emerges right behind Welsh. He looks at Welsh and takes a few steps away from the very uncool, very white businessman. Welsh finally stops trying to dance when his leg nearly gives out. He winces in pain, reaching for his injured appendage. He turns to Meyhu for help. Meyhu just blows past him, arms extended, basking in his personal glory. Welsh shakes his head, smiles and says “Classic Champ.” Welsh limps to the ring and receives a mic from Belvedere who, knowing where his bread is buttered, rushes over to hand him one. Belvedere hops onto the apron and splits the ropes. Meyhu leaps over the ropes with ease. He bounces around the ring with arrogance. The crowd gets a “FUCK YOU” chant going. Welsh gingerly walks up the steps and slowly eases his body through the ropes, into the ring~
Marcus Welsh: Alright, alright…there’s no need for that kind of language in the company of greatness. So, please, calm yourselves and bask in the glory that is…The Marvel…the OCW Champion…The Legend…THE FACE OF OCW…MATT MEYHU!!!
~The boos and cursing only increase. The Marvel, however, treats the reaction as though it were akin to a championship parade in Boston. He’s Tom Brady, of course. He slaps the face plate of his OCW Title before pointing to it~
Marcus Welsh: That’s right, CHAMP! That is your belt and it isn’t going anywhere. We’ve heard from lawyers tonight. We’ve heard from drug addicts. We’ve heard from NASA drop outs. We’ve heard from up and coming stars and, well, we’ve heard from idiots. And by idiots I mean Chad Vargas. You see…this would normally be the portion of the interview where I’d put Vargas over as a legend and a formidable opponent against Meyhu. However, since I’m being FORCED to give this man an OCW Title Shot at Serial Thrillers I will cease with the fake smile and half hearted compliments, cutting straight to the truth. The truth, Vargas…you are scum. You aren’t worthy of standing in the same ring with Matt Meyhu. If I had my way…full autonomy, you’d be back on your farm in Everclear County fucking cousins and drinking moonshine…or whatever it is you dirty southerners do down there.
~Meyhu nods saying “Yep, it’s true. I’ve read stories on the internet.” Welsh pats Meyhu on the back saying “Right on, Champ.” The fans continue to boo~
Marcus Welsh: But enough about white trash people who are handed everything in life. Besides…we may not even get to that match. Injuries are pretty frequent in this business and, who knows, a light from the ceiling could fall on top of The Confederate Icon between now and then, crushing him…Gavin Reed style
Smith: Our GM referencing the random death of one of OCW’s more annoying personas
Hood: I hated that guy
Marcus Welsh: So we’ll shelf the Vargas talk in the hopes that he’ll get injured or suspended or arrested before October 29th. And, we’ll shift our attention to the real reason we came out here tonight…another idiot. Mike Zybala
~The crowd pops~
Marcus Welsh: You people sure do love your losers. We all saw the horrific beatdown I gave OCW’s annoying commissioner last week. Little man Zybala thought he had the upper hand on me heading into that match. Turns out I was the better man! My strength! My agility! My submission skills! My MMA holds! I could go on and on but, hey, we’ve still got one match left tonight and it’s getting late. So I’ll just sum it all up…I kicked Zybala’s ass doing what he supposedly does best. So, Zybala…let’s not act like a sore loser. Come on out here and hand over your Survivor contract. Given the fact I out wrestled you…I just can’t, with sober judgment authorize a match between you and the champ. I mean if I beat you into submission imagine what the CHAMP would do. He’d probably kill you.
~Meyhu nods. “Probably,” he says. He removes his belt and looks at it, admiring his reflection. He shows it off to the fans, who continue to boo.~
Hood: Look at him! Some commissioner. Can't even handle defeat with any dignity.
Smith: You'd be upset too if you had a win stolen from you like Zybala did. Not only was he screwed out of beating Welsh but...
Hood: Wait! Let me say it! He has to give up his contract! Though he should be thanking Mr. Welsh.
Smith: For what?
Hood: No contract means no title match against our glorious champion, which means Zybala won't get the worst ass kicking of his life.
~Zybala gets to the ring and looks at Welsh and Meyhu, who are grinning from ear to ear. Welsh holds out his hand for the contract and Zybala hesitates. Welsh shakes his head~
Welsh: Look Mike. A deal is a deal. You lost so hand over the contract!
~Zybala calls for a microphone and Belvedere walks over to hand him one. After a nod of thanks, Zybala addresses Welsh~
Zybala: You're right Marcus. A deal is a deal. I was arrogant when I put my contract on the line. I knew you would use every sneaky, low down, back handed trick available to you, and I still thought I was going to win. That was my down fall and I'm man enough to admit when I lost. You beat me Marcus, fair and square according to the no dq clause of the match. We were allowed to do anything, and your deposit in the "blood bank" last month paid off in the end. You won, so here's my contract....
~Zybala walks towards Welsh and hands him the contract. The fans boo Welsh smiles with glee and Meyhu is mocking Zybala with the OCW title. Zybala looks dejected before beginning to speak again.~
Zybala: You have my contract, which I'm cashing in!
~The boos turn to cheers as confusion spreads over Meyhu's and Welsh's faces. They both stare at Zybala and Meyhu's starts shouting that he can't do that~
Welsh: What are you talking about you idiot? You lost the match, and the contract. You can't cash in something that isn't yours!
Zybala: True, but it is mine. You see, our match contract states that if you won, I lost the Survivor contract, true. HOWEVER!! The fine print of that stipulation was that you had to beat me....BY YOURSELF! And since you had help from so many people, including one Melinda Rhodes, so the contract is still mine!
~The fans cheer more as Welsh is losing his mind. Meyhu tries to go after Zybala, but the commissioner gets out of the ring and starts backing up the ramp.~
Zybala: So next week on Massacre, the main event will be Mike Zybala versus Matt Meyhu for the OCW championship! And you can't Veto that!
~Zybala drops the microphone as his music hits the speakers and he walks up the ramp. Welsh is seething and Meyhu is shouting at Zybala that he'll kick his ass next week~
Smith: What a bombshell from Zybala!
Hood: I knew that sneaky sonofabitch couldn't be trusted! He's trying to fuck over the champ, the boss AND this company!
~Meyhu looks at Welsh wondering what the fuck is going on. Welsh shrugs. He turns and looks at the camera nearest. He yells “CUT TO COMMERCIAL! CUT TO FUCKING COMMERCIAL!~
LIVE! Monday, October 29th 2018
From the Mortuary Haunted House
Located in New Orleans, Louisiana
Savage Championship
Paradigm Championship
Craze Championship
OCW Tag Team Championship
Grudge Match
OCW Championship
Iggy Hardy (c) vs. TBA
Andrea Hernandez (c) vs. TBA
Mike Harrison (c) vs. TBA
Legendary Trifecta (c) vs. TBA
The Incredible One vs. Saxon Rowe
"The Marvel" Matt Meyhu (c) vs. "The Confederate Icon" Chad Vargas
Main Event – Singles Match
Josie Barnes (17-12) vs. Bob Grenier (14-13)
Belvedere: THE FOLLOWING MATCH IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL! INTRODUCING FIRST FROM ANYWHERE AND EVERYWHERE....
#OOOOOOOH
~"Where the Hood at" by DMX hit's the House PA as the man, the myth, the legend of OCW himself steps out onto the stage wearing his full ring gear and a pair of shades on his face. He takes a long, final hit from the blunt between his lips, letting out a big billow of smoke before randomly flicking it off to his side. Naturally someone's there to pick it up, at least we hope so anyway. The bleach blond bearded scrapper with a forehead that looked like a side of beef and a body full of scars heads straight for the ring. A fan raises a fist out towards him and he gives the man a little knuckle bump before rushing towards the ring. He slides under the ropes, rolls to a crouch, and rises to a full stand with a fist in the air.~
Belvedere: STANDING AT 6'2" AND WEIGHING IN AT 222 POUNDS.... OCW HALL OF FAMER BOB GGGGGGRRRRRREEENNNNIIIIIEEEERRRRR!!!
Bob removes those cheap shades from his face and tosses them to the crowd who gives him a resounding POP!
Belvedere: AND HIS OPPONENT, FROM LILLY, GEORGIA!!!!
~"Shadow Boxing" by Parkway Drive hits! The heated crowd turns around and goes wild for one of OCW’s bright, upcoming stars of 2017, Josie Barnes! The entire crowd is hued in purple due to lighting. A “PURPLE VIP” chant breaks out! Josie smiles and coquettishly makes her way down the ramp, toward the ring. She slides in, under the bottom rope, and gets to her feet and rotates both shoulders, limbering up for the match.~
Belvedere: STANDING 5’2" AND WEIGHING IN AT 118 POUNDS.... THE PURPLE V...I...P! JJJJJOOOOSSSSIIIIEEE BBBBBAAAARRRNNNEEESSS!!!
~A “JOSIE” chant now breaks out. Barnes smiles and acknowledges the chant, throwing both arms into the air. The music dies down and Josie stares up the ramp towards the entrance way with a vicious grin on her face. Referee Puff presides over the festivities as the two long time associates, Josie Barnes and Bob Grenier circle each other~
Smith: I’ve been looking forward to this match all week. Both these competitors were left off the Mayhem card…both are looking to rebound
Hood: I guess tenure gets you nothing in this company
Smith: A person can’t just sit back and rest on past accomplishments. They have to continue to prove themselves, Hood
Hood: Yea, I guess
~The Lights cut out. The crowds has a mixed reaction of excitement and nervousness cause they’re wondering what's going to happen. A video begins to play on the screen showing an old school hourglass in front of all black screen. Slowly a white looking mask begins to appear behind the hourglass but not close enough to make it out, a deep voice is heard.~
“Everyone's days are coming to an end! There's nothing you can do!”
~Sand begins to fall to the bottom of the hourglass from the top.~
“Your time has started!”
~Lights comeback on with the crowd looking confused. Camera pans back to the ring where a red balloon with a string is floating in the middle of the ring between the two fighters.~
Smith: What was THAT?!
Hood: I don’t know…but someone is returning
Smith: Indeed…are they focused on these two competitors or was that a general statement?
Hood: What are you asking me for?
Smith: Good point
~Barnes looks at Grenier. Grenier shrugs and says “I don’t have a fuckin clue.” Puff, a little shaken, finds his composure. And, with a simple motion of his hand, the bell is rung!~
*DING!*
~Josie has more of a bounce in her step, springing left and right as she walks the worker's circle with Bob. Grenier tests the waters with a few grapple attempts, but Josie backs away shouting, "Gotta' be quicker than that!" The result has Bob straighten his stance and look towards the crowd with a slow shake of his head and a wipe of his nose with the back of his taped hand~
Smith: It’s been a rough couple of months for Bob. He was in line for an OCW Title shot not that long ago
Hood: Yep and now he’s taking lip from The Purple VIP
~He turns back around eating a chop to the face, followed by a chest chop from Josie. Before he can react, Josie catches his arm and twists him into a wrist lock. Bob twists and turns with the lock, front rolling and firing off a standing clothesline. Josie ducks under the arm, still holding the arm and pulling it around Bob's torso and jumping up to lock an arm around his neck, releasing the wrist and falling back with a modified neckbreaker!~
Smith: Great move by Josie! She looks on her game thus far!
Hood: Dude the match has been like two minutes…and half of that was a creepy as promo with sand
Smith: Okay, ya got me there
~Bob pops up with a situp on impact, clutching at the back of his neck as Josie blasts across the ring, rebounds off the ropes with a shining wizard, but Bob sets her off balance by falling flat on his back and causing her to miss her mark. As she stumbles, he tries to bring her down with a fast roll up, but Josie rolls right out of it! Bob gets to his feet just in time to eat a hard kick to the chest, followed by a standing dropkick that sends him back into the ropes~
Smith: She appears too quick for Bob. Has Bob lost a step?
Hood: To what? A ladder at home? If so, someone should tell him…that could be dangerous, even for a Grenier
Smith: I was referencing his foot speed!
Hood: Oh, I don’t know…but I bet he’s still faster than a fuckin woman
Smith: RUDE
~Josie hops to her feet, only to be surprised as Bob snaps off the ropes with a falling discus back elbow that knocks her right off her feet! Josie gets up only to be on the receiving end of a bicycle gut kick that drops her to her knees with a croaking cough. Bob quickly gathers her up and pulls her into his take on the Front Chancery, O'Gormon's Neuce! Just as he starts to lift her up for his Muscle buster, Josie kicks her legs out and spins out of the hold while delivering a surprise improvised Pele kick straight to Bob's forehead! Grenier stumbles back and falls into the ropes, shaking his head repeatedly.~
Smith: And she continues to one up Bob!
Hood: For fuck’s sake, Bob. Get your shit together!
~Josie rolls to her feet and rushes at Bob, flying at him with a running leap and lariat that has enough momentum and force behind it that it carries them both over the ropes to the outside! Josie catches the rope with her free hand, landing a bit more gracefully on her rear upon the apron while Bob flips over and hits with his shoulders on that same apron before falling to the floor in a stunned heap.~
Smith: A terrible tumble for Bob!
Hood: I feel like he’s getting his ass kicked
Smith: Well he’s not winning, if that’s what you mean
~Barnes hops to her feet, crouches down and watches as Bob gets to his feet. She then leaps off with a Crossbody Block, driving the two of them to the floor! Josie rolls off of Bob and throws her fists in the air, nodding with a sly grin~
Smith: Josie has been quicker and the aggressor in this one
Hood: She’s so bad…I really can’t stand her
Smith: She’s a fighter, Hood. If the song didn’t give that away
~Josie backs up, sizing Bob up as he gets to a knee, her leg twitching as she crouches down. Just as he starts to rise, she blitzes forth with a Shining Wizard, but Bob catches the knee and instead pulls her in for a T-Bone lift Suplex! Josie flies up and over on the release, hitting the hard floor with a bit of a skid and a cry of pain!~
Smith: And finally Grenier catches Josie!
Hood: About fookin time!
Smith: Huh?
Hood: I said “about fuckin time!”
Smith: Hmm
~Bob gets to his feet as Josie rises up using the guard rail. He rushes towards her, side stepping only to roll into the ring right at the turnpost to reset the count, then roll back out on the otherside and bull rush her with a running clothesline that sends her into the laps of the fans!~
Smith: And Josie has been forced into the crowd!
Hood: Normally I’d advise the men to accidentally cop a feel…but it’s Josie
Smith: You saying she’s not attractive?
Hood: No, I’m saying she’d probably bite your dick off if it came near her
~Bob reaches over the rail to pull Josie to her feet, only to get a hard chop to his chest that has him wincing and gritting his teeth. Bob's answer as Josie smiles smugly? A blistering chop of his own that has her staggering back through the fans, clutching at her ample chest with a growl of pain.~
Smith: Josie has an ample chest
Hood: Sorry, I don’t look at her chest
Smith: Really? That’s a first
Hood: I’m too busy staring at DAT ASS
Smith: Ah geez
~As Bob laughs at her misery, Josie hears, and responds with blind rage, practically running up a seated fans back and leaping with a heel off his head to fly at Bob with a springboard variant of her Shining Wizard colliding with his forehead and sending him sprawled out onto the floor. Josie lands with a tuck and roll to her feet beside him and quickly slides back into the ring.~
Smith: Josie with the rebound! She’s still in this!
Hood: Ugh…she just won’t go away!
~Slow to rise, Grenier clutches at his head. Back in the ring, Josie sizes him up, backing up as much as she can before running for the ropes at full speed! She leaps over the top with a suicide diving calf kick, but instead of delivering a devastating kick, she's caught in an awkward side cradle hold, flipped onto Bob's shoulder and DRILLED with a modified back suplex!~
Smith: OUCH!
Hood: Haha, take that Purple VIP!
Smith: I guess you’ve never been invited into the club?
Hood: Fuck no…that’s like receiving an invite into a room full of naked old people. PASS
~Gathering Josie up, Bob turns and slings her into the ring, following shortly afterwards. She rolls onto her knees, clutching at the back of her neck as Bob is quick to act, delivering a straight stomp to her chest, followed by a stomp to her right leg, then left, then left arm, then right arm, and finally her forehead with the Grenier Stomp!~
Smith: And now the Canadian legend is attempting to dismember the Purple VIP
Hood: More like the Black and Blue VIP…with shades of green and yellow. Does she bruise easily?
Smith: I don’t know
Hood: I bet she bruises easily
~He then throws an elbow drop out and remains atop her for a quick pin!~
ONE!
TWO!!!
TH-KICKOUT!!
Smith: Bob nearly scored the much needed win!
Hood: Ugh…she continues to fight…give me a break already!
~Bob shrugs and rises while pulling Josie up, only to eat a sitout jawbreaker followed by a small package pin!~
ONE!!!
TWO!!!
TTTHR-KICKOUT!
Smith: Wow!! Bob became a bit too nonchalant there and it nearly cost him!
Hood: Geezus…Bob, no offense, but if you lose this fucking match you should just retire and head to Canada. No, better yet…head to the IanZone
Smith: The heck is that?
Hood: Some weird ass time zone in Greenland or something
Smith: I’ll have to Google this for authenticity
~Josie grits her teeth as Bob powers out of the pinning move. Both get to their feet and Josie ducks a strike from Bob, delivering a jab to his ribs followed by a face chop and then the grab of an arm and an Irish whip. Bob reverses the whip and sends Josie into the corner, running right after her only to eat a boot to the gut! Josie hops to the top rope with a shove of her arms, then leaps off and catches him with a diving DDT, followed by a Pinfall!~
ONE!!!
TTTWWWOO!!!
TTTHHHRR-KICKOUT!
Smith: I thought she had it!
Hood: I almost puked!
Smith: Please, puke into this, if you must puke
Hood: I will not be puking into a cup, thank you very much
~Bob shoves her off and both get to their feet yet again, albeit with Bob stumbling slightly from that DDT. Josie backs into the ropes and rushes at Bob, only for him to duck, practically forcing her to leap frog over him. He rushes for the ropes, hitting them at exactly the same time as she rebounds on the opposite side of the ring! Josie takes flight once more with a leap as Bob fires off his tried and true Bicycle kick, practically nailing her in the gut and knocking her flat out of the sky! She thrashes violently on impact with the canvas, clutching at her gut and convulsing across the ring until coming to a stop a few feet behind him. Bob turns and rushes in to execute a perfect Standing Shooting Star Press, hooking her leg for the pinfall!~
ONE!!!
TTTWWWWWOOOO!!!!
TTTTHHHHHRRRRRRE-KICKOUT!!!!
Smith: He’s still got it!
Hood: The clap?
Smith: Ugh, no, not that…at least not that I’m aware
~Bob gathers Josie up and slings her into the nearby corner. From there, he sets her for a seat on the top rope. From there, he he climbs onto the second rope and seems to be hooking her for a Suplex, only to get a hard jab to the ribs followed by a throat thrust, which stops him in his tracks. Josie starts to fight back, only to be kneed to be brought to a halt with a headbutt! Bob, panting hard, climbs onto the top rope with her and pulls her into O'Gormon's Neuce, then lifts her up and falls back with his Muscle Buster off the top rope he calls THE HOLLINGER PARK HANGMAN!!!! He lands on his rear with a potentially neck snapping impact that drives all of Josie's weight onto her neck and his shoulder in explosive fashion. Bob releases her on impact, letting her flop back and then rolling on his side with a wince, his hand at the small of his back as a Super-Musclebuster off the top rope is rarely a good idea, but damn does it look good! He rolls over and drapes an arm over the stunned Josie Barnes.....~
ONE!!!!
TTTTWWWWOOOOO!!!
TTTTTHHHHHRRRREEEEEE!!!
~DING DING DING~
Belvedere: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH, OCW HALL OF FAMER, BOB GGGGGRRRRRRENNNNNIIIIEEEERRRR!!!
~Bob rises to his feet with the Ref holding his hand aloft, wincing in pain as each step seemed to bring him a bit of misery up the sciatic nerve! He won the match, but at what cost to his body?~
Smith: Bob did it!! He broke the losing streak!
Hood: Thank fuck! Way to go Bob!
Smith: Ya know…momentum is a crazy thing. And Bob had a terrible losing streak going which had dimmed his confidence. That win is probably what he needed to get back on track
Hood: I’m all for another Grenier push. I love me some Bob…in a total heterosexual manner, of course
Smith: Of course
~Grenier, visibly hurting, exits the ring and heads up the steps. Barnes is left in the ring. She sits up, disappointed. She gets to her feet. She’s obviously in a great amount of pain, as well. She asks for a mic. Bob walks through the curtain, heading backstage~
Josie Barnes: My protector has left. Slippy has left. I have nobody here to look after me. Except…my babe. Babe? Babe! BABE!
Smith: What on Earth is she talking about?
Hood: The pig? The pig from those movies? Is she the owner?
Smith: I don’t know…but I do know we’ve received word that Lukas Emery and Amelia Emery have both left OCW. So I get the protector reference
Josie Barnes: Babe!!! BABE! BAAAAAABE!!!!
~The crowd suddenly reacts as a man rushes from backstage. He sprints down the ramp with his arms flopping around all crazy like. He slides into the ring and pops to his feet. Josie’s eyes widen…she tries to figure out who this guy is~
Smith: Is that…
Hood: Looks like some really effeminate guy to me
Smith: I think it’s…GREG!
~Greg rips the mic from Josie’s grasp~
Greg: He’s MY BABE BITCH!
~Greg delivers a massive BACK HAND! Josie falls to the ring, knocked out. Greg drops the mic and does a crotch chop over Josie’s body. The crowd pops…a “GREG!” chant resonates~
Smith: I don’t know who Greg is…but he seems very protective over someone named Babe
Hood: And Josie…man, she’s had a rough night
Smith: Yes…I get the feeling, based on how this show is ending that we won’t be seeing her again
Hood: No shit
Smith: And, speaking of endings…that’s all we’ve got for you all here tonight! Thanks for tuning in…we’ll see you next week when Mike Zybala challenges Matt Meyhu for the OCW Title! Until then…I’m Smith and alongside me is Hood…good night everyone, have a great week!
~We fade out~
#WHERE DA' HOOD
#WHERE DA' HOOD
#WHERE DA' HOOD AT!!!