Aggression 10-29-2012

Is that Larry’s Twin?

Aggression comes back from commercial as we tune in to see a camera angle showing the masses in attendance, the camera spins around before it comes to a halt before the “RebelTRON” then – a voice over the speakers – “Do you wanna get rocked?” the crowd perks up their cheers “LETS GET! LETS GET! ROCKED ROCKED ROCKET” – “Let’s get rocked” by Def Leppard hits the speakers, the crowd is unsure what to make of the music, as it was something new and different, (“WE DON’T LIKE THINGS THAT ARE DIFFERENT” Larry Gordon commented – to which, you the viewer, would reply; “shut the fuck up, Larry.”) the music continues a bit before a sort of familiar face walks out onto the stage, What we could make through the days of growth on the face, and the extra pounds, it seemed to be “Awesome” Alex Wilkie! Former Rebel Pro Tag Team Champion!

Jenny Jersey: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Please welcome… “AWESOME” Alex WILKIE!”

the crowd lets out a roar of cheers as Wilkie continues down the ring, “My God, he’s let himself go hasn’t he?” Larry Gordon would comment again, this time, you the viewer, should probably agree, that fat fuck has eaten more goddamn cheese burgers than the hamburgler, and he probably ate the hamburgler too, Wilkie hops up onto the apron, he was still pretty spry, though it was obvious that feat alone winded him just a bit, he stepped between the ropes and wandered over to Jenny Jersey who had an extra microphone ready for him. He accepted her offer graciously and even held the ropes open for her when she left the ring.

He wandered around the ring a bit more, not sure where to begin he kept bring the microphone up to his mouth then putting it back down. The fans were cheering and clapping, and some turbo-nerds were trying to start a “Fuck You, Wilkie!” chant but it wasn’t catching on.

Wilkie: “Let me just start by saying… You may have noticed something new and different about me…”

He stopped in the middle of the ring and flung his long and unkempt hair back.

Wilkie: “I haven’t had my hair dyed or styled in a couple months…”
The crowd laughed a bit, it was the cheesiest joke he could have told, even Larry Gordon had a better follow up that had involved Chunk and the Goonies, you the viewer would’ve been pissing yourself laughing, had his mic not cut out in some sort of technical difficulties situation right before he said it. Oh well, that’s show biz, kids!

Wilkie: “You all might be wondering why I’m here too… well, with last weeks little bit of news, Rebel Pro winning that battle with UX and buying them out, Kalis not only acquired all the talent in UX whom have been there since the beginning, but he also acquired all the people who hadn’t even appeared on television yet… one of those people were me! So as it stands now, I am a Rebel Pro Star!”

The crowd let out a burst of cheers, though it was short lived as Wilkie called for silence once again.

Wilkie: “But… unfortunately, In my wrestling career, both independent and professional, I’ve hurt myself alot… I wake up and my back locks, my knee is brittle like chalk, my ankles click like a clock when I walk. I even have to wear a brace for my cock.”

“Did that fucker just Seuss the shit out of Aggression?” Larry Gordon almost got up to get in that ring and sock Wilkie in the mouth, only Linzi Martin was holding him back.

Wilkie: “The fact of the matter is, I’d probably blow my knees out picking up the telephone, so I’ve talked to Simon and we both agreed in having me be more of a Part-Time wrestler, and a full time adviser would be better for the company as a whole.”

The crowd seemed to disagree with what was better for the company, judging by the amount of boo’s it got, Alex lifted up his hand to call for silence.

Wilkie: “I know how you all feel, I don’t want this to happen either… but..”

he stopped for a second and looked up to the ramp, the crowd turned to see what he was looking at, and a man walking down from the stage, hair slicked back, wearing jeans, and a shirt that said “Spread Cancer” – a Jake Norton shirt? Maybe it was a fan who jumped the rail? But he had an envelope in his hand. Finally when the lights shone on him, the spotlights revealed former Rebel Pro World Champion “The Coyote” Reece Paxton! Everyone including Larry Gordon asked “What in the jumpin jelly beans is this guy doing here?”

Wilkie was, unlike anyone else, pleased to see him, he clapped his hands alittle, trying to get the crowd to join in.

Wilkie: “Ladies and Gentlemen, unbeknownst to me, please welcome, Former Rebel Pro World Champion… REECE PAXTON!”

The crowd almost explodes with boo’s and jeers, security going into over-time to stop fans from jumping the rail to try and fight him for no particular reason. Reece made his way slowly and calmly to the ring, his head held high and his eyes looking down on everyone else. He walked up the steel steps and slipped between the middle ropes, going up straight up to Wilkie. You could hear over the jeers and boos Reece say “Give me the microphone, old man…”, Wilkie handed it over without a second thought and stepped back, mouthing “the floor is yours.”

Paxton: “Allow me to introduce myself… You might know me as “That fucker who burned your precious title.” or “That guy who fucked up Simon Kalis.” – but here in this ring, you will all refer to me as Mr. Paxton… You see, even though Simon bought up UX, and obtained all the talent there, I neglected to inform him that while he thinks he owns my contract… he really doesn’t… he might want to re-educate himself with the clause right smack dab in the middle of my contract that says I can wrestle with a company as long as its not in the AOWF or isn’t run by someone named Simon Kalis. So as soon as Simon bought UX my contract was null and void, and that’s fine with me, he would’ve signed me to a shit contract anyway…”

He held up the brown envelope though.

Paxton: “However, even when a door closes, I always make sure, I keep a window open, incase I have some unfinished business to attend to, and seeing as how Simon Kalis is still six feet above ground and breathing, my business with his company is far from finished…”

He opened up the envelope and pulled out a long slip of paper.

Paxton: “A while back, when I was recovering from the assault I suffered when Simon Kalis stole my title, I knew my contract was coming to an end, and I knew for a fact I wouldn’t be going back to any company run under the AOWF umbrella, so I decided to wait out my contract… however, three days before the end, Larry Gordon came to my house with his lawyer, and offered me this…”

He held up the paper, if you were sitting front row, you could make out the logo of Rebel Pro Wrestling, and the AOWF, the rest was blurry but it was quite obvious a contract.

Paxton: “Larry Gordon still owned majority of the company, and told me, I could sign this at any point in time and return to Rebel Pro, if I so choose… and even though Larry Gordon does not own any part of Rebel Pro… this contract is still valid… I’d read you the details but you morons probably couldn’t understand it anyway so I’ll lay down the real basic facts for you… if I sign this contract… I’m here for one full year… I cannot be fired… which is much better than what those chumps from UX were offered I can tell you that much… 50,000 dollar bonus? Peanuts to what I’ll be making…”

He smirked a bit.

Paxton: “But you know what… I don’t want to work here, I don’t want to work for a company, that’s owned by a man who’ll just as soon piss in your cereal and tell you its milk, I don’t want to work for a family of sluts, hypocrites, and down right fools, and I sure as hell, don’t want to work infront of a crowd of inbred redneck hicks, who would rather see other inbred hicks hit each other with beer cans, instead of seeing actual wrestling…”

The crowd went crazy with boos and jeers once again. Paxton pulled the paper back down and went to rip it, however, Wilkie stopped him, he had his own microphone again.

Wilkie: “Paxton! Wait wait wait… You don’t want to do that…”

Paxton looked at him, with a look of “How dare you touch me.”

Paxton: “How do you know what I WANT to do?”

Wilkie: “Because I know for a fact, that when I was training you, all you wanted to do was wrestle, remember when you told me that? Remember when you said you’d sooner put a bullet in your brain than work a nine to five?”

Wilkie nodded a bit, he could see he had gotten through to Paxton just a bit.

Wilkie: “Look, I know what its like to work for assholes… I’ve worked for Rob Robinson. I’ve worked for Chameleon, Shit, I worked for Gabe goddamn Shelly, but you know what, I’d suffer them again, if It meant I got to work between these ropes, and for these fans…”

he pointed out to the crowd, he got a short pop from it, “yay someone mentioned us!” they were probably thinking.

Wilkie: “I know you’re a smart guy, Paxton… and I know you know, signing that contract is the right thing to do…”

Wilkie reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen, was this planned? Did wilkie know? Maybe he just likes to be prepared incase contract signings just seem to happen.

Wilkie: “Do the right thing.”

Paxton looked at the pen, then at the contract… he then took the pen and clicked it once, Wilkie nodded, a huge smile on his face. Paxton looked at him, then at the contract again… in one quick stroke his signed his name on the X. The crowd boo’ed louder than ever now, what the hell was Wilkie doing? Is this what was gonna happen if he was going to advise Rebel Pro?

Wilkie was standing back, smiling and clapping saying “I knew you a smart guy, I knew it!”.

Paxton smirked a bit, but then he dropped his microphone, contract and pen, turned around and kicked Wilkie right in the skull! Wilkie hits the mat hard as Paxton stands with his back to him… he takes in a deep breath and slicks his hair back… he turns and reaches down to pick up the microphone he dropped.

Paxton: “Let that be a message… to anyone in the back… for the next year… anyone in the locker room, Simon Kalis… even you Wilkie, You’re all my bitches.”

He drops the microphone again and delivers another hard kick to Wilkie gut, before he leaves the ring. No music, only the cries of outrage at Paxton, as he just laughs sadistically at the sight.

Commercial for Bar be Que, its the south, gotta have one.

Peace Be Upon Him

Sean Robinson stands in an empty REBEL Arena, just minutes before the doors opened to let the waiting crowd into the building. In a matter of moments, this will be a scene of pandemonium as fans rush to their seats, to the concession stand, to the merch booths. But right now, it’s downright peaceful. The crew has finished setting up the ring, so the din of hammers, wrenches, and power tools is long gone. The last preparations for the sound system have been completed, so the PA is silent for a few brief minutes. It’s the calm before the storm, to coin a phrase.

Sean Robinson:
“This is my favorite time, right before a show. Just standing here, looking around at the empty seats. Knowing that any minute now those fans are going to come storming in, begging for autographs and pictures. We’re demigods to these people. They very nearly worship the ground we walk on. And why not? We’re professional athletes, just like Tom Brady or Kobe Bryant. They see us as larger than life, kids look up to some of us, and hate others. The hardcore fans live and die with us, like a sports team’s fans do. We’re their escape from reality, and for a few short hours every week, we are the center of their universe.

But that’s where I stand out. You see, I’m not just the center of {i}their{/i} collective universe, I’m the center of {i}the{/i} universe. I’m the star that everything revolves around. I’m the greatest wrestler in the world. I’m more agile than any gymnast, I’m more charismatic than any actor, I’m stronger than any bodybuilder. I’m not just the perfect wrestler, I’m the perfect human being.

But no… No, not even that is entirely accurate. See, I’m no mere human. I’m the future. I’m the prophecy, and the prophet. I’m the messenger, and the message is me. I am the most high, I am he who is.

In your world, I’m God.”

He smiles, and steps out of the ring before heading to the backstage area.

Youhavetostartfromthebottomfag Match

Sean Robinson vs Jeremy Gold

This match wasn’t even really a match, as Jeremy Gold ran around the ring away from Sean Robinson for nearly the entire length. But eventually, about the five minute mark, Robinson juked and jived, spinning around and pointing out in the crowd next to Jeremy Gold. Gold, thinking this is just a ploy to stop him, shook his head from side to side. Sean pointed viamently though and someone tapped Gold on the shoulder, it was a man covered in blood with vampire teeth hissing at Gold. Jeremy stumbled back, the man laughing, but Gold fell right into Robinson’s arms, he hit his finisher solidly, but was distracted by Bobby Lee who stumbled down the ramp, his face covered in his sugaries. Lee stumbled into the ring yelling at Robinson for hurting his friend Gold and bitch slapped Robinson, who just looked at him, cause of the lack of power. Sean actually laughed at Bobby Lee who punched him with all he was worth, then he began yelling something about aliens, allowing Jeremy to manage an rollup as Lee pushed Robinson, causing him to stumble over Gold. He only got a two count and this served to piss Robinson off and then Lee stumbled out of the ring, following only something he could see and muttering about vampires don’t wear glitter as he stopped to look at the non glitter wearing vampire guy, who hissed and promptly caused Bobby Lee to piss himself as Robinson nailed Gold for the pin.

Winner: Sean Robinson 10:19

Commercial, vote already, well as soon as you can vote, go and do it already

Filmed Earlier

Filmed Earlier-
Tony Edison is seen in a hotel room, though we can’t be sure where. The camera is trained only on him, though we can tell the TV is on, but we have no idea what is on it. It’s audible, but totally indistinguishable. He looks around the room, and finally pays attention to the camera that’s been sitting there for at least a minute while he paced.

Edison: So here we sit now. Underground X Hall of Famer Tony Edison is shipped to North Carolina for this. D’Aquila shows us his worth, which though was an improvement from Willie Williams, was still not good. I did have faith in him, and now, I see I was wrong in thinking it. But these are the mistakes that we make I guess.

He heaves a sigh.

Edison: Seriously though, how did the damn Commies even get into that arena? Jesus. Typical cheap foreigner, doesn’t pay for decent security. He put his talent at risk and fourteen people were fucking murdered. MURDERED!

He tries to collect himself, breathing in and out deeply.

Edison: How he possibly thought he would be able to just brush that under the rug is totally beyond me. But hopefully something will change. This ownership wheel of death is becoming a bore to me.

He gets up and flips the TV off, and sighs again, staring out the window as the camera comes to show a profile view of him.

Edison: And yet here we are, the fourth owner I’ve worked under in the same affiliation. The wheel keeps spinning, but we continue to go nowhere. Just fan-fucking-tastic.

He laughs quietly. His face shows focus, with a hint of exhaustion.

Edison: And speaking of the same tired routines. I wrestle Jonathan Cage again? Jesus, Johnny. It’s like everywhere we go, the people just want me to keep showing that I’m better than you.

A smirk now.

Edison: Cage, we’ve got quite a history. Let’s go back, shall we? First, we’ll start with the Golden Age, although Fisher will probably sue me for this, considering he sued for rights to the old shit before. Whatever. My wallet’s over there, I’m sure I have enough for his fucking royalties. But back to the point. You remember those days Cage? The days of Killah Kain and Sinister Fiend. The days of that huge Cage clan…thing we had. The days that Reno Drake and Larry Fields were actually GOOD.

A huge smile now.

Edison: Yep. Those were the good days, weren’t they? I remember I wasn’t good then though. I was still a rookie. Wet behind the ears. Green. Whatever you want to call it, that was me. And there was a ‘pick on the new guy’ mentality to it all, or so it seemed. But I kept my head up and pushed along, all the way to Fisher going broke and leaving us all unemployed, completely randomly. Funny how the guys who put their asses on the line every week were given fair warning to find new work, eh?

Another chuckle, then back to his focused stare out the window.

Edison: Fast forward. We open again, only to close again. What’s there to say? It was a mistake to go back, and I know that now. But you learn from those mistakes. Anyway. We fast forward another four years. I get a call from Larry Fields! Imagine the surprise when he says he’s calling the “Original” UX clan back.

He nods, remembering back.

Edison: He called me, you, and Drake. He wanted to bring us back to show what we had. To show this generation that UX was ours, and always would be. But you had other plans. You sided with John Fisher and Reno Drake and your daughter. Now don’t get me wrong, that’s cool and all. But then you bailed anyway. You showed nothing of what we were about.

Shaking his head now, just so confused.

Edison: Then you come back as some sort of fucking AoWF Invasion plot? Man, screw that. That’s where the line was drawn, Cage. You had the balls to say you were “sooo” good, but hid behind fucking Simon Kalis the entire time. Christ, Cage, you just can’t grow a set of testicles at all, can you?

Edison turns directly to the camera now, staring straight into the lens.

Edison: And here we are, one on one yet again. I could go on a whole tangent about how I’m better than you, but I think that would be pointless. So I’ll leave it at this. Cage, I have no respect left for your ass. You’ve given me no reason to have any. But what you have given me a reason to do is beat you shitless. And I’ll do it with pride. I’ll do it with the UX crowd behind me the entire time. Because REBEL is not my home. AoWF is not my home. The Underground is, and it always will be. You can say whatever you want, but the fact of the matter is, I don’t care. I’m not doing it for anybody except myself. So say what you want, but we both know that when it comes down to it, I am a thousand times the man and superstar that you could ever dream to be. See you in the ring, motherfucker.

Singles Match of Ranoutofoddmatchtitleideas

Tony Edison vs Jonathan Cage

– Across from each other are two men who’ve fought countless battles in Underground X, but this time, there’s something at stake. No, not any championship or contendership, but one of two, depending who. For Jonathan, he seeks redemption coz his track has taken a sheer drop after a proverbial burial last week by Jake Norton, and a loss to indie darling, Tony Edison, would take the final eWo heavyweight champion down an unwanted course of derision. On the flip side, Edison comes into this match packing loads of ammo due to word-of-mouth hype of him being an astronomical defier of not just gravity but modern aerialist limits. Beating an established wrestler in the mainstream limelight would be desirable so Edison can penetrate a newfound audience.

-Five brief seconds pass during a silent and fixated dogging between these two, and lord only knows what went through their minds. You could make a valid case for what Edison likely thought, because, Edison unexpectedly ran forth like a rad samurai from some anime. Halfway across, Edison deliberately drops to the canvas but he still continues forward via baseball slide, which gets a response of leapfrog from Jonathan Cage. When Cage avoided the close encounter, Edison resurrected to his feet energetically as a certain heartbreak kid would. Straight after, Cage went to shoulder tackle Edison into the turnbuckle in front of them, but spidey senses tingled, so Edison mule kicked Cage in the midsection, then immediately sprung forward into the ropes and flew skyward for a moonsault legdrop that sent a bent Cage head-first into the mat! Fans popped, understandably, but Cage’s kickout before the second count surprised many!

-One minute later, a cockier than usual side of Edison shines when he reuses the ropes to launch himself into a rising Jonathan Cage with intentions to perform Cage’s own ‘springboard roundhouse kick’ but soon as Edison sprung, Cage spears! And what should have happened after that is Edison eats a spear, but instead, the slick acrobatic slips an arm around Cage’s head, so a headlock would help counter the spear midair into a DDT, which it fucking did. And fans once again creamed at the faster-than-a-blink double counter!

-Staying in control the next three minutes after that sweetness, Edison relies on safer go-to moves, such as: corkscrew plancha, slingshot senton, hurricanranas and flurries of forearm smashes. For the most part, Edison manhandled Cage, till Jonathan whipped a comic-book style comeback of kickboxing at a rate comparable to Mortal Kombat! Having backed Edison into a turnbuckle, Cage retaliated for Edison’s cheeky attempt of ‘Into the Light II’ (springboard roundhouse kick) by doing just that, and Cage’s roundhouse nearly broke Edison’s neck, it seemed! But we can assume it didn’t coz Edison raised the shoulder inches away from the third count.

-Setting Edison atop a turnbuckle, Cage backhand slaps the former Uncensored Champion twice, to some of our crowd’s amusement. Jonathan then climbs onto the second buckle, palms Edison in the mouth for good measure – that brought a wad of saliva shooting out of Tony’s mouth – double underhooks both of Edison’s arms – “This looks like a murder attempt” Gordon speculates – then dives backward for a piledriver!! “A DOUBLE UNDERHOOK PILEDRIVER” Linzi shouts into her headset at the sight of Edison bleeding from the forehead upon being turned over by Cage, who then cross-presses. Although that may have been the end of others, Edison upsets with a kickout before the two! “HOW IS HE NOT UNCONSCIOUS?!” Gordon wonders loudly.

- Shaking his head in disbelief, Cage then punches Edison once in the chest and twice in the testicles! That would be illegal in other AoWF promotions, but REBEL is marketed as ultra violent for a reason. Now wearing a crimson mask, Tony Edison is pulled onto his feet and locked in Cage’s headlock. Taking time to trash talk Edison, Cage delays whatever he planned, so Tony unleashes remaining strength for an overhead bridging suplex! Smartly releasing his headlock to power out, Cage stands only to dumbly have his story cut short by Edison’s Pele kick! Falling onto the canvas like dead meat, Cage permits Edison to rush up a nearby turnbuckle and corkscrew moonsault onto his upper spine! From there, all Edison had to do was roll Cage over, hook the leg and let the ref count the three!

Winner: Tony Edison in 12 mins, 27 secs

Commercial provided to you, free of charge, but it costs the sponsors a ton of freaking money and you probably just fast forwarded it or went to the fridge and got your ass something to eat and drink.

To The World, III

By the hand, Susan Boyle is led through the backstage area nearest to what is commonly referred to as ‘Gorilla Position’, where the PA system and curtains separate ringside and backstage. Acting as Susan’s guide is, of course, Jake Norton! Wearing plain and purely orange tights, black patent boots, and his ‘Cancer 3:16 – Spread Cancer’ vest, the lazy-eyed spectacle happily heads for the curtains, but Susan is visibly hesitant. When they came to the steel steps which would take them onto a small platform and a black curtain, Susan chose this moment to cease movement.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: I’m having second thoughts..

Nose flaring and eyebrows frown in annoyance, Norton’s honest feelings are masked within two seconds to deceive Susan with a more caring and sympathetic facial expression, which is successful.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Somewhere in this building, Justin is preparing himself to confess his equally deep and poetic love for you, too, Susan. Unfortunately, Justin is just as shy and vulnerable as you, Susan. He’s unsure of how to go about proposing. It’s you who must breakthrough if anything is to come of this.

Boosting her confidence and diminishing her fear, Norton continues up the stairway, and Susan follows as the incongruous tune of John Williams’ “E.T.” main theme notifies waiting fans of a new happening. Way down at ringside, Linzi Martin and Larry Gordon analyze this entrance, with Gordon being regularly pessimistic of this segment’s direction. So far, Norton’s came across as a textbook gentleman for allowing Susan to walk up the steps first, then jumping onto the apron to create an opening for Susan to step through. Predictably, REBEL Pro fans are somewhat aloof.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: My dear audience, I know that celebrity guest appearances are not your choice of drink, but please, give this a chance. It’s relevant!

Turning his attention to a nervous Susan, Norton sits his forearm atop her shoulder.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: I know how much Justin Case means to you lots.

Now, some voices retort bad words for the ‘Millennium Game’ from the seats.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: But he means more to this sweet pearl.

That forearm which rests on Susan’s shoulder wakens and hugs Susan’s lower backside, gently.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Your fan-mails have reached the internet, Susan.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: Have they?

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Yes. They’re quite passionate. Your heart was on full display.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: I see..

Softly curling his cheek at the sight of Susan’s metaphorical sad panda, Norton licks his sticky lips like a windshield wiper.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: The twisted promise of murdering a PWA official if Justin wished it, is startling.

Apparently not one to deal with Norton’s obvious toying, Susan’s eyes start swelling with tears and her lips pout, childlike.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: What have you, REBEL Fans, is Susan Boyle a mental loser?

Responding with a ‘hell yeah’, most of our audience jumps on the ‘shit-on-crazy-cat-lady’ bandwagon.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: What are you doing?? Are you having a laugh at my expense?

Smirking dickishly, Norton nods, and Susan’s flabbergasted!

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: Have you tricked me??

Shrugging with the smirk still intact, Norton looks out into the audience for support.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: To be honest, Susan, I’ve dragged you out here to send a message. Not to hook you up with Justin’s digits.

Mouth drops agape, and then Susan’s hand flies and slaps Norton! The REBEL Fans typically and collectively say, “Ooooh” but in a playful tone rather than actual surprise.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: I deserved that. Really, this is wrong of me. But, Susan, you of all people should know, wrestling fans love watching celebrities take a bump.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: Pardon me?

Toe kicking Susan in her disgusting camel toe (or floppy gut), Norton then impressively deadlifts what is likely a 260lb old hag.

{b}Linzi Martin{/b}: OH NO!

{b}Larry Gordon{/b}: SHE’S FIFTY-ONE, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!

Starfire Deluxe ’08 (stalling brainbuster) drops Susan Boyle onto her fragile head, instantly knocking her unconscious! As expected, Fans ignite like a mouthful of pop rocks.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Oh thank god, she was terrible! I’ve spent the better half of this week working her into coming!

{b}Larry Gordon{/b}: Yeah, beating on a helpless senior is a loud message, alright.

{b}Linzi Martin{/b}: I’m sure the media will have a field day with this one. Yay for free publicity?

Stepping onto the second turnbuckle, Norton situates himself in his favorite position.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Hey, you in the third row.

One female fan in particular holding who is possibly her baby, scowls at ‘Cancer Man’.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: I can understand how you’d not take kindly to my shtick, but, birdie, this is my version of the orange revolution. See, Adrian Kalis may be more about thrills and Benjamin Dyce prefers slamming bitches through canvases, but I swim in controversy. This is a well-known fact. Do I reckon ‘controversy creates cash’ (or even cake)? Sure, but I don’t base my prerogatives on what reaps the most quid. In all actuality, I’m about doing whatever I, myself, find funny. Planting Susan Boyle on her head is unfortunately one of those ripsnorters.

PWA or TGW fans might find Norton’s actions despicable, but REBELs are not a wholly politically correct fanbase. These are bloodthirsty; dark-humored bunches who’re about ‘rolfs’.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Since we’re on the subject of my notoriety, let’s revisit those questions I asked you all to note. Last week, I answered “what challenge does Norton offer his peers” by grounding Jonathan Cage in realism. This week, I’m answering “what difference will Norton make in REBEL considering all the notorious baggage he carries?”

Rubbing the stubble on his chin, Norton’s lips move silently in a manner indicating mumbles.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: To put it simply, Justin, I am willing to do things that others are not. Not many have the nuts to do what I just did to Susan Boyle. Why? Because she’s old, has a vagina, and has the IQ of a Justin Case fan. They’d cringe at the heavy fire I might take from our network, REBEL’s administration, and all sorts of other uptight critics. But you know what, Justin? There are people out there who massively enjoyed what I just did, and that’s why I did it. I’m providing them the entertainment they want. Put it this way, if the AoWF were food, it’d be a pretzel without salt. I am looking to spice things up by just doing things my own way; trying to stick out of this sea of same. That’s all the people want from us wrestlers; personality.

Turning around so Norton sits atop the turnbuckle, he slouches forward.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: The Orange Revolution isn’t a highly-evolved movement on how to innovate or the like. Basically, the whole point of us is to just encourage distinction, but rightfully. Me? I do controversy better than anyone. I can’t be absurd like Anna Mathews. That’s her gig. Simon Kalis is the best at being badass. And The Phoenix masters the art of no-selling. Those are three people off the top who can draw, entertain both on the mic and in the ring, and don’t have to worry about millimeter game, Justin Case, taking their spots.

Inhaling air through a quick but somehow arrogant sniff, Norton’s eyes dart sideways.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: “Behind the scenes, your manager, the Jizz, is your ring-rat. I get it. That guy blows his load over whatever you do, but you should ditch him. He’s not improving your image nor legitimizing your claims of ‘talent’. What’s the point of a manager, anyway? To help someone who can’t promote themselves beneficially, right? Well, Justin, just like Jonathan Cage before you, I doubt anybody thinks of Justin Case when discussing ‘good promos’ or matches, even without this wiz of TALENT.

A lot of your math-talk just doesn’t add up, either. Like, for example, you keep exaggerating how fucking ‘talented’ you are, and, for the life of me, I don’t get how anyone tolerates listening to you? Maybe fans get through a Justin Case promo knowing Dale Petty comes on next, or that someone, like me, is bound to call you out for all this bullshitting, and it’ll be funny.

Oh, here’s one thing really awful about you. You actually label yourself as a franchise killer. Why? What fucking ‘franchise’ have you killed? What makes you think you have this humungous amount of heat that enables this piss-poor fantasy of you being someone that important? This just makes no fucking sense. It would if you were a parody of all the shitty wrestlers out there like Alison James, but you’re not. You’re actually, honest-to-god bad. This is who you are, and what you do with your energy. And it’s offensive.

Frankly, Justin, what really grinds me is that I know there are many fools just like you in the AoWF. There has to be, otherwise why the need for a Movement? Adrian Kalis wouldn’t start a revolution if things weren’t pitifully trite. No, I’m offended because even though I’ve said many valid points in this promo, it was done rather basic. Like, I don’t feel it’s been all that creative, yet the notion of me needing to be creative against such an unoriginal, uninteresting, an anticlimactic threat of an ‘opponent’, is rubbish.”

Distracted by his intense promo, Norton doesn’t see Susan Boyle stirring in the background.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Sometimes, whenever I hear one of your promos, Justin, I envision you being real fucking ecstatic afterward, thinking you’ve just said some deep shit, and rightfully so after the Jizz finishes stroking your unreasonably gigantic, inflatable ego, but then depressingly crushed after jobbing out to Mister Hardcore, you fucking loser.

Now standing, Susan Boyle seems majorly lost in a cartoonish haze, judging by her silly looks. Becoming aware of this, Norton hops off his spot and approaches.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Susan, love. You’ve taken a fall for the worse!

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: Herve Aye?

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Yes. You’re supposed to be singing, not taking a snooze.

Giving Susan the microphone, she instinctively begins her a cappella.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: I dreamed a dream in time gone by. When hope was high and life worth living, I dreamed that love would never die!

Suddenly toe kicked once more, the crowd erupts as Norton plants her with another stalling brainbuster!

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Fuck you, Justin Case. This show isn’t yours, it belongs to the Orange Revolution, you colorless bitch. Get out here so I can close this case.

Susan Boyle First Blood Match

Justin Case vs Jake Norton

Jake Norton met Justin Case in the center of the ring and began to just pound away on the returning 2 time Rebel Pro World Champion. Norton wouldn’t let up either and while Case did manage some offense, it was not near enough as Norton was just dominating him from post to post and side to side. It got so violently against Case at one point that Dale Petty came down to watch, as we all know he doesn’t like Justin Case at all. Dale gave his nod of approval to Jake, which allowed Justin to get in a bit of offense, nailing Norton with a chair; though Dale tried to warn Norton about the weapon. Justin beat Norton down in the corner, but was unable to make him bleed at all, then he noticed Dale Petty near ringside and began to jaw at him as Dale was holding his favorite hoomemade weapon “Ripper” at his side Dale looked over Justin’s shoulders, causing him to spin around, and here came Susan to try and stop Petty from interfering. Dale slipped the bat in to Norton as Case tried to keep Susan from getting involved in the match. Dale patted Norton on the shoulder and as Case turned back around, Norton nailed him with the aluminum bat wrapped in barbed wire, covered in tacks, glass, and old blood; causing his forehead to split and a crimson mask to appear.

Winner: Jake Norton 19:37

Commercial ffor AOWF, we encourage you to do something

I Am Macca!

Enter the Cunt Guy

Pushing aside the big metal/wood hybrid door, Macca makes his way into the REBEL arena. Stopping for a moment to take in his new surroundings with a quick rotation of his head, Macca adjusts the strap of the bag over his arm before letting his trademark shit eating smirk settle on his face. Moving to continue forward he is stopped by REBEL reporter, Marvin Humperdink, who has appeared in front of him out of thin air as most reporters tend to have a habit of doing (like fucking paparazzi ninjas or something).

Sweet fucking….. Where did you come from?

Marvin Humperdink:
Mr. McDonald, I was hoping I could get your comments on entering the REBEL arena for the first time as a roster member.

Macca stares at Humperdink for a moment. Did that fucker just use his real name? Oh heeeeeell no girlfriend!

First off the name is Macca. Nothing more, nothing less. As for REBEL? It’s a snazzy little place. I could see myself fitting in here very nicely.

Marvin’s head rockets around like an imitation bobble head doll as he agrees to whatever leaves Macca’s mouth.

Marvin Humperdink:
You already have won over some of the REBEL fans but the great majority are still yet to open up to you. Mind you, you still have the support of the old UX fans. With that said do you think your momentum at winning championships in UX and the small, but very vocal, group of followers you have will allow you to reach the same heights you did in UX here in REBEL?

Well Marv’ there are some things that the REBEL fans need to learn. They think that I come in here as a UX star trying to say I am better than every current REBEL star just because I came from the X. That is crap. They say that I shouldn’t blow my own trumpet just because I won some championships in UX. There they are correct. A UX championship doesn’t mean shit here, hell it hardly meant fuck all there also, as proved by the fact I ended up dumping one in a bin in the arena car.

That head of Marvin’s is bobbling like a mad motherfucker as Macca continues on.

The reason I won championships in UX is not because of UX itself but because of one thing, and that things is called Macca. I plan to keep my steam rolling up here in REBEL and not because I have to show everyone up because I’m one of the new guys from the company that folded but simply because I am Macca and REBEL has just become my fucking Sparta!

Ohhhhhhhhh shit! Throw down the fucking gauntlet Macca! Scribbling something down on a note pad that is conveniently in his hands, Marvin continues on with his next question.

Marvin Humperdink:
Speaking of keeping up momentum, Your first opponent in REBEL will be Dale Petty, a REBEL household name. Do you have any worries about your debut match? Have you done your research on your opponent?

Honestly I know sweet fuck all about this bloke. I suppose I could have looked into some of his history with REBEL but honestly what would be the point? When your background is beating the piss out of blokes who have had a few too many, you quickly learn that knowing somebody’s background really isn’t needed to beat their ass down. I have been told that he is a former champion himself, although that means as much to me as my championship history probably means to him. There is one thing however that has got me curious. An interesting little fact that I caught so I want to extend this question out to him to see if he can give me an answer.

Macca has a cross between a look of confusion and humour on his face as he leans into the camera.

Dale, did your parents give you a name that would result in your initials being DP because they didn’t know if you would grow up to be an asshole or a cunt so thought ‘fuck it, we’ll just go with both to be safe’? Cheers that, cunts!

And with that Macca leaves Marvin and continues his walk down the halls of his new home.

Good Time

Dale Petty sits in the backstage area of some arena, we know it isn’t the one most recently used, well at least there isn’t any crowd noise. Dale sits on a wooden folding chair, one of the vintage kind, his forearms on his knees and his head hanging down to face the floor.

“Underground X invading Rebel Pro… it all seems sort of, familiar… if you know what I mean.”

A chuckle.

“But of course you all wouldn’t because you all weren’t here during those times, none of you wrestlers were anyways. Sure the rump wrangling faggat Justin Case was there for a bit of it but can you even count someone who’s mission it is to beat Jeremy Gold’s ass?”

He raises his head to reveal a raised eyebrow.

“If that doesn’t confirm that he’s a ass banging butt pirate, then I guess he’ll have to put pink bows in his hair and go around singing Shirly Temple tunes while wearing a tu tu and olaying like a ballarena.”

He shakes his head in disgust.

“But the more important thing is this invasion by Underground X, or the purchase of it by Simon Kalis, or whatever in the fuck really happened, because I don’t give a damn. All I know is that I’ve been around this company nearly since its inception and finally there is some new blood to spill.”

He smirks.

“Except for Marina Blue and Sean Robinson, for the most part. Anyways, there is a couple of familiar faces coming back, back to the place where their blood is spilt most often and most assuredly in great quantities.”

He leans back, pulling out a Marlboro Menthol Light and lighting up.

“But I’ve got one of the baddest apparently in Macca this week…”

He sits back still, squinting through the smoke.

“Apparantly one of the baddest asses in all of the UX federation, facing off against terroristic threats, then bashing the former owner in the face with a beer bottle.”

He nods.

“Good job son, but you are facing someone who has done tht before, and much worse. Ask your new boss who kicked his ass all over a junkyard. Sure, I’ll go ahead and tell you that he did defeat me, but that still doesn’t mean that I didn’t kick his ass all over that junkyard… as he did mine. See if you can get ahold of Rex Caliber, ask him what all we did to each other… in case you are wondering, he’s the former guy in charge round these parts. See, I’ve always been at management’s throat, so I’ve got a bit of appreciation for that sort of thing, even if its all been done before. You gotta get your little shot in, bloody his face, humiliate him, all sorts of fun things.”

He flicks the ash.

“But you are talking to someone who has done it all, seen all the movies, got the entire series of t-shirts… and don’t give a shit what you are trying here.”

He’s starting to growl.

“While I do apprecinate the effort… this is my playground asshole. This is my yard, this is my dominion and I’ve got the daddy pants on. I’m the big bully that people give their lunch money to and when they watch all of those help films that tell them to stand up to the bully…”

He smirks.

“I’m the bully that kicks their ass then takes their lunch money anyways.”

Another flick.

“So, I don’t give a damn what you’ve done in the past, what championships you’ve held, the number of matches that you’ve won.”

A shake of the head.

“Not because that happened in Underground X and this is Rebel Pro… but simply because I don’t give a shit about that. See Macca, you’ve not watched me, I’ve not watched you… we know next to nothing about each other, so let me be professor Dale Petty for right now…”

He leans forward.

“I’ve bloodied more people than you can ever hope to dream of, I’m like the universal menstrul man… because I make everyone bleed, cramp up, and bleed some more… except I don’t just stay around for five or so days… I’m here all the fucking time. I make you bleed, I make you cry out in pain, and then I smile as I rub salt in that wound… because I am a bad ass sum bitch and I don’t back down from nobody.”

He flicks the ash again, then takes a drag.

“That is why I don’t give a flying free fuck what you’ve done in the past, because it don’t matter a damn. You’ll bleed just like Simon Kalis will. You’ll bleed just like Jeremy Gold will. You’ll bleed just like the hopeless wonder Bobby Lee… But my question is this Macca… will you scream and cry like Justin Case will? Will you beg for mercy like Justin Case? Will you ask me to stop like Justin Case will? Will you be a man and take your ass whooping or will you curl up like a little girl…”

He shrugs and smiles.

“Justin Case-like?”

He puts the cigarette down, grinding it out on the floor.

“I’m glad you all came to Rebel Pro, hell Macca, I even like you a little bit. I like your style… it reminds me of myself. But with that said, I’ve been there, I’ve done that, I’ve kicked ass and not worried about names. You will be nothing more to me than another notch on my belt if I win and just another ass that I’ve kicked if I lose the match.”

He smirks.

“So regardless of whether I win or regardless of I lose, one garantee that you and everyone else can have is this… I’m kicking someone’s ass and they are going to know who I am. Virgil liked his technical wrestling, I love my hardcore… who came out on top? Who won that match? Who kicked that ass?”

He just stares at the camera.

“I’m not saying the name, but you are looking right at him and listening to his promo. I look forward to our first match Macca, bring the pain motherfucker, bring the motherfucking pain. If I ain’t seeing stars, I ain’t having fun… and I want to have fun. If I don’t see your blood… then I ain’t having a good time… and I always have a good time.”


REBEL Icon versus X’erground Legend!

Rebel Legend vs X’er Legend

Dale Petty vs Macca

- Dale Petty, a beer-drinking, tobacco-smoking, bare-knuckle extremist, who also happens to be a former World Heavyweight Champion, meets another beer-drinking, but rubber-duck-loving, lippy, yippee-kai-yay cuntster, in Macca, the last Undisputed Champion of UX. Regular viewers of the REBEL product are depressingly ignorant to the heavenly buildup smarks are gleefully heaping. Heck, once you see the match for yourself, one would wonder why Simon Kalis booked an easy pay-per-view main event on a weekly edition of Aggression. But, that’s just it. Only those exposed to both men’s careers would recognize the dreaminess quality. Many are not. So, for Macca, defeating the highly regarded Bubba J (or Dale Petty, whichever you prefer) would skyrocket his reputation. Alternatively, Bubba needs this win to secure himself as REBEL’s top dog unless he wants to be flicked away by these X’er invaders looking to claim high ranking.

- Almost divided in support, the crowd chants back-and-forth for their boys. “X’er Cunt! X’er Cunt!” could only mean Macca, whose trademark shit-eating smirk is evident, whilst “Bubba J! Bubba J!” is a no-brainer. However, it should be noted, Dale’s support is larger in numbers but Macca’s is passionately noisy. “Even though Underground X is dead, fans of that small, western promotion are ever-growing.” Linzi acknowledges. “Commercial success in postmortem is bittersweet.” Gordon believes.

- Circling one another, Dale and Macca feel each other out with soft jabs that don’t make contact but see where both are at, mentally. Neither pussy out; in fact, out of the blue, both explode at center, blasting each other with lefts and rights, like fucking super saiyans! Fans collectively cheer as they watch both men keep their ground in this throwdown; waiting to see who backs down first. Thirty seconds pass before both men simultaneously retreat into their corners. Macca, whose lip is busted, skin around eyes are puffing, and right arm is shielding his ribs, obnoxiously grins at a nose-bleeding, red-in-the-face, Dale Petty, who also returns the grin.

- Coming out of the corners together, they meet in the center of the ring, once more, but this time exchanging words rather than fists. Fans eagerly await the next whirlwind, and, who knows what Dale said, but it prompted a sharp Cuntster slap, which triggers another storm of knuckle sandwiches! Surpassing the thirty second mileage of their previous dance, who knows how long the pair would’ve stayed at this blow-for-blow rate, if not for Dale ramming Macca in the gut with his knee! “Macca fans didn’t like Dale resorting to a knee strike” Gordon observes. “There’s nothing wrong with that” Linzi defends. “Nope, but the two were obviously testing out each other’s punch-power” Gordon retorts. “That’s unspoken for.” Linzi finishes.

- After the ‘game-changing’ knee shot, Dale uppercuts Macca into the ropes, making it easier to light the Cuntster up with body shots! “Macca was nursing his stomach earlier, who knows what damage is happening now” Linzi says as one more uppercut sends Macca backward, over-the-top-rope and tumbling along the outside! Ascending the turnbuckle, Dale’s ax handle drop clonks Macca upon his standing! Right after, a Russian leg-sweep into the guardrail wounds them both equally, but to Dale’s preference.

- Can after can, Dale pours beer given to him by fans onto Macca, who’s having trouble adjusting his senses after being tossed from a military pressed position into a ringpost. Talking some mad trash to the little Cuntster, Dale then snap suplexes Macca into the guardrail, spine-first! Naturally, after such a sick bump, many would assume it safe for Dale to push Macca inside the ring and cover, but Macca disagrees via raised shoulder! Mounting the Cunt, Bubba’s rapid thunder strikes crack Macca’s face as if pavement. “This is the second crimson mask we’ve seen tonight!” Gordon recognizes.

- Pulling a wounded Macca onto his feet, (blood spilling to the mat and limbs hanging loosely, Macca looks very much done) Dale positions Macca’s head between his thighs. Trying to lift the 170lbs Australian, Macca prevents by deadening his weight and falling onto his knees. Very predictably, Macca then uppercuts Dale’s testicles, producing a hoarse groan from the multi World Champion, and rape tackles Dale onto the canvas, concluding in a tight schoolboy that narrowly gets the three! “DID DALE KICK OUT?! IT LOOKS LIKE HE KICKED OUT!” Linzi yells, baffled by the finish! “Let’s get a replay” Gordon calls. When the footage reviews the final seconds, Dale kicked out a millisecond too late!

- As wild as football fans buzz for their team scoring a goal, Macca’s victory surprisingly gets well-deserved approval! At first, the Cunt seemed unsure of what he just viagra generico online accomplished, but that toothy grin reappears, letting us know he’s solved the puzzle!

Winner: Macca in 11 mins, 2 seconds

Commercial for something else, but again you probably went outside to fill your lungs with a ton of cancerous causing smoke as you puff on a cigarette causing more smoke to climb into the air than a coal driven locomotive back in the 1800s

Herrrrres Johnnnnnnny!

Johnny wakes up to film his segment. He yawns and pours himself a glass of orange juice. He takes a drink and then has a look at the calendar. He truns and spits out his orange juice in the face of his roommate Allen who had just walked into the room.

Johnny: {color=dodgerblue}OCTOBER 29TH!?!?!{/color}

Allen: {color=yellow}You spat orange juice in my face.{/color}

Johnny: {color=dodgerblue}OCTOBER 29th!?!?!?!{/color}

Allen: {color=yellow}Yes. That is the current date.{/color}

Johnny storms out of the room and into his very large closet.

Johnny: {color=dodgerblue}Come on! I have a costume for you, too!{/color}

Allen: {color=yellow}Costume?{/color}


{size=200}HALLOWEEN TIPS!{/size}

Allen is wearing a sloppily pieced together costume with a hunch on it’s back.

Allen: {color=yellow}This is retarded.{/color}

The Crimson Ghost enters the room, as frightening as ever.

The Ghost: {color=red}Oh, I’m sorry…would you rather be in your ridiculous cartoon dog costume?{/color}

Allen: {color=yellow}First off,{/color} {url=}my costume this year is awesome.{/url} {color=yellow}Secondly, you could have at least put some effort into it.{/color}

The Ghost: {color=red}Oh, give it a rest Algor.{/color}

Algor: {color=yellow}Is that supposed to be like ‘igor’? Because I sound like a character from the Chronicles of Narnia.{/color}

The Ghost: {color=red}Silence. Good evening, boys and ghouls. Welcome to my humble abode where I, the Crimson Ghost will be teaching you the do’s and dont’s of Halloween. I’m something of an authority on the subject. What is the first do, you ask? DO make the trick or treaters work for it. I went….overboard on the lawn decorations this year.{/color}

We cut to a child in a mummy costume approaching the house only to be greeted by a well crafted, terribly violent display of brutality on the front lawn. Like a scene out of one of the ‘Saw’ films. The child runs from the house screaming and we cut back to The Ghost in his home holding a full bowl of candy.

The Ghost: {color=red}Saves you a TON of money on candy….though admittedly that doesnt balance out considering the cost of the display. Hm. Anyway, our second tip is very important. DO Wear a good costume! If a trick or treater makes it through the hellish display on your lawn and they have gone the extra mile as far as costuming goes, make sure they are rewarded.{/color}

We cut to a group of children ringing the doorbell, each of them dressed to the nines as a member of ‘The Avengers’. Algor answers the door and gives each of them a full sized candy bar and sends them on their way.

The Ghost (voiceover): {color=red}But DON’T reward kids in bad costumes. In fact, the opposite is my reccomended approach.{/color}

A second group of children show up, each dressed as an Avenger as well but there was clearly less effort. Thor had a bedsheet cape, Captain America had a garbage can lid shield. This would not do. The Crimson Ghost opens the door and vomits blood all over them and they run away screaming. He closes the door and turns back to Algor.

Algor: {color=yellow}You…are one sick fuck.{/color}

The Ghost: {color=red}And the following is just a good life lesson….DON’T be Might and Magic. You see, Might and Magic have the misfortune of being teamed against the pairing of Johnny Maverick and Anna Mathews. These unfortunate souls should be pitied, but instead let us celebrate the oncoming victory of ‘Kontroversy Kreates Kake’, a tram of multi-time world champions facing off against two men who will go down in the history books for being…Rob Robinsons friends. Can you endure the insanity? Could you possibly survive the accumulated wrestling talent? Do you think you can stop these two from getting to the REBEL Pro Tag Team Titles? Cesar Salazar will not stop them. Deicide will not stop them. Moke Doshky and the Dragon will not stop them. Anna Mathews are the Full-sized candy bars of the wrestling world. Might and Magic are the Popcorn ball and the Toothbrush. The shitty throw-away non-candy.{/color}

Algor: {color=yellow}Harsh.{/color}

The Ghost: {color=red}Speaking of which, that reminds me of our last tip.{/color}

We cut to Algor and The Crimson Ghost taking Allens nephew Rusty trick-or-treating. Rusty rings the doorbell and gives a good ‘Trick Or Treat’ only to have a pencil put in his trick or treat bag. The Crimson Ghost steps in front of Rusty and spits a mist of blood in the mans eyes. He starts writhing on the ground in pain. The Ghost turns to the camera and removes his mask. Gasp! It’s Johnny! Oh wait, everyone already knew that.

Johnny: {color=dodgerblue}Quality is key. Never accept any less than the best. Happy Halloween.{/color}

Johnny smirks as we fade to black.

Yakkity Yack

Seeing as how this is one of those “wrestler comes out and yaks on a microphone” segments, the commentators are rendered useless and are replaces by cardboard cutouts. Besides, it’s not like we really care what they’re saying during these things. But we’ll pretend.

Commentator Uno: Bork Bork Bork bork bork bork.

Commentator Dos: Wins wins inny wins ins winner!

Suddenly, a wild Dodo appears to the delight of everyone! She has the Aggression shiny in hand. But she doesn’t walk to the ring. Anna drives in with an invisible car that seems to sputter and wheeze all the time. Confetti is everywhere and cake is provided. As she nears the ring, her ride breaks down forcing as lot of kicking at air. She snatches a microphone. Shocker.

Anna Mathews: Hold et! Befoure I sai annyfing, I no that yer probably gonna hear a lotta ranty boring stuffs in the near future and four that, I sincerely apologize but…wood joo guise mynd yif aye gots own my own soapbox and started bitchin’?

Naturally, they don’t. Anna drops the mic and wanders over to the commentater’s booth. She crawls over the table in between whatever commentating team in occuping it at the time. (Seriously. We’ve got like what? Twenty? Can any of them speak Spanish?) After rummaging under the desk. She finally finds her soapbox and hurls it into the ring cialis com 4 comprimidos where it makes a perfect landing. Many gitting into the ring shenanigans later…

Anna Mathews: Mmm-kai. Furst question. Hoo the hell envited olive these UX Peeps?

Fairly mixed reactions. Sure, you’ve got the Underground X marks going nuts and the pure Rebel fans getting all grr-like. But quite a few of ‘em still don’t know what to make of it all.

Anna Mathews: Meh. It’s okay. I don’t mind new fases. Oar iz it old faces? Because I no mii an old Deicide met somewhere…

Cheap pop for Victory. Fuck yeah, Victory.

Anna Mathews: …but the guy next tu him ish something different. Rich, powerful, actually nose how to groom hisself. An supposedlee, they were oar are or should be Rebel Pro’s taggy champs because Matt Stone izza living vat of chickenshit and Emily Corlen followed him ‘round lika puppey dawg right out of Rebel.

Le shrug.

Anna Mathews: Whatevs, man. Me purrsonally, Eye prefer to actually earn my shinys. Thar’s a bit moar accomplishment than simple saying “Wii usta be champs there and you haz none and we want them”. But I cee the point. There’s nut really vewwy many teams here. Why the hell not?

She raises a finger.

Anna Mathews: Xcept there ish still one. And really, we’ve had a momento to kinda heal ourselves and whatever. Besides the champions arr only as good as their competition. That’s why whenever ye old conkshell sounds off, the KKK answers the call.

Cheering! Yay!

Anna Mathews: Den we go frum one slice of gold to the other. Our world champion, Robbie McRobberson…whoops. I’m sorry. I mean the Phoenix and only the Phoenix, our new dark overlord.

All the booing in the stands. All the eye rolls in the ring.

Anna Mathews: Bitch, plz. You’re a Yoo-hoo obessesed millionaire whose making up this whole “RAWR CHAIN OF DESTRUCTION” schtick inn an attempt to regrow ur balls after reneging on yet another lolretirement. Here’s a newsflash, homeskillet. You can play supervillian til the cow’s come home and you may scare a few lil kids, but at the end of the dai? You’re knot that grrrrate, you’re nawt that special, n the vast majority ov us are already tired of this shit. You’re stil the syame flaky jackass that wins only when you attempt to giv a damn. Or when yer hoddie buddies deside to attack mii from behind.

Growing “Dat Ass” chant as she facepalms. Fucking double entendres. Fix it!

Anna Mathews: Hay! Speaking of attacking from behind, wat abowt Vrgil Keenan?

Congratulations! It evolved into a “Fuck you, Virgin” chant! Well, I guess that was inevitable. Everybody hates that cunt.

Anna Mathews: Ja kno, that maskie may covver up his face, but it kan’t hyde the yellow streak down his back. Two weeks ago after Virge got demolished by Great Poohbah Norton, he desided ta turn on my match ‘cause yif he couldn’t win, at least his ideals could win in the form of the Purist, rite?

For no reason whatsoever, PuppetSimon suddenly bungie jumps from the rafters and whips out an air horn. ENNNNNNT!

Anna Mathews: Wrong. In a match that completelee fractured hiz pour microscpic brain, he saw hiz arch-nemesis generic viagra review actually out rassle Marvin Wood. It cunfused him because ever cents the furst time he laid eyes awn me, he considered hisself better than mii because “I’mma true wrestler and you’re just a barbarian blah blah blah.” Keenan xpected me to be killed by Woodrow in a matter of sekonds. Inn truth, I had that poor English muffen in his own move begging for mercy. That Aggression shiny was about to come bak home. It wuz never really Marvin’s. I didn’t actually lose the dam thing. But our masked crusader just hated to be rong. He LOATHED the thought ov admitting that it was all in some way interchangeable. Sew he came up with this lil nugget.

A hand whips around her back ad returns with a paper bag that’s decorated to look like Keenan’s mask. She puts it on her head.

PuppetVirgil?: erp derp im gonna run in there and cost anna the title and rant like I always do.

Laughter ensues as the Queen of the Dodos whips off the “mask”.

Anna Mathews: That’s xactly what he did. He tried to hide his cowardice, his fear of that all mighty ego being puctured, via the typical moralistic bullshit. He was right about one thing. The run in was legal according to Rebel Pro rules. An two a certain xtent, Marvin was right last weak when he said aye was a bit angry. But I wasn’t angry ‘cause Virgil ran in. Because despite what Virgil finks, he didn’t change history. All he did was delay the inevitable.

She lifts up the shiny to the fans and the happiness.

Anna Mathews: Noar was eye pissed because I lost the match. Wat rileling me up is that thar’s all the arrogant douchebags hoo honestly fink they has the right to be arrogant douchebags when they doan’t. Cereal. Can you remember the last time Virgin aktually did sumthing besides whine and bitch and try to leach offa utter people’s shine? Can you pinpoint an xact moment when Robbie wasn’t a total bitch? Can joo picture a promo where Woody wasn’t this smug know-it-all jackass who fought his shit doan’t stink because he held a billion championships for all of five seconds?

Silence. Everybody was pondering about this. Even you. Yes, you. Use that brain for once and think!

Anna Mathews: Yoo can’t, can ya? Aye’m not trying to be an intellectual giant. I’m just stating truth. An the trooth ish if anybody is the bane of the continued exsistance of both Rebel Pro an the AoWF, it’s them. They and people like them are the one’s trying to hold us back. Apparently, real wrestlers doan’t evolve with the circumstances. They do the exact same school of moves over and over and over again even though people find the cracks in the armor and exploit them. Wrestling ish never supposed to bea anniething utter tan what their imaginations oar thoughts of there rememberances of their glory days want it to be. And clearly “getting my ass kick bi a Master of Time and Space” isn’t in they’re plans.

A faux sad face from the Dodo as she steps down from her box.

Anna Mathews: Ay’m here ta sai fuck that shit. A purrson that can only do one thing can strive in this business for a very short time. They can win all the gold and have all the glory. But in order to survive for the long haul, you either have to be a jack of all trades oar you hav ta be a pussified coward. You either have to evolve and fight or hide and suffer. Cents ai’ll never hide, guess I’ll evolve.

The leather jacket that you’ve never noticed before and never will again comes off.

Anna Mathews: I said et ownce before and I’ll say it again. I don’t mynd being the sacrificial lamb. I don’t mind being the won purrsun that those co-workers of mine love to hate.

She takes off her shirt to reveal another shirt just like it. But Simon must be fucking around in the production truck. We clearly see a nice angle of DAT ASS before it inches up her back. In the middle is a target with words as plain as day: Go ahead, try to get over.

Anna Mathews:..and I really doan’t mind being the scapegoat.

As the mic drops yet again, Anna and her fans party on with cake and cookies while all of you poor fucks have to deal with something else.


The KKK(Anna Mathews & Johnny Maverick) versus Might & Magic

- Even though his job is to enforce this match, Deicide takes a seat behind the announcers table, quietly. When Larry and Linzi tried asking him questions, Deicide ignored them and kept looking on at the in-ring action, expressionless. Meanwhile, Salazar fits perfectly in the role of referee, given how sacred he holds the wrestling rulebook. Despite most REBEL tag matches being unconventional, Salazar informed both teams this bout will be contested under traditional standards; where tags must be made in front of Cesar, no interference is allowed (otherwise said interferer will get their team disqualified), and rope-breaks, count-outs and referee stoppage is enabled!

- Mathews and Dragon jumpstart the match through armdrags, hiptosses and whips, but neither do anything damaging to the other. All of it was them countering and avoiding the other’s attempts, which is impressive if you can appreciate defense. First offensive contact came when Dragon’s tilt-a-whirl threw Anna into the ropes, but utilizing this momentum, Anna counters with a springboard leg lariat! Instead of covering, Anna rolls toward her team’s corner tired and tags in Maverick, who comes off the top turnbuckle with an awing, long-distance elbow drop onto a crawling Dragon’s backside!

- Multiple, generic submission holds like ‘Boston crab’ and ‘surfboard’ keep focus on Dragon’s back, but the Magic would find escape eventually. It’s when Maverick’s STF is applied, concern overcame Moke Doshky, and he would’ve kicked Maverick in the head by now, but Cesar Salazar forbids it as if sacrilegious. At the risk of his neck, Dragon otc cialis rolls himself and Maverick onto their sides, making it easier for Dragon to elbow Johnny’s ribcage, which he does! Only, Maverick’s response is forearms against Dragon’s neck! Ultimately retreating, both Maverick and Dragon go to tag in their partners, Anna Mathews and Moke Doshky.

- Running into a swinging side slam, Anna is laid out conveniently nearby a turnbuckle, which Moke then uses for a corner slingshot splash! For the first time in this match, Moke covers Anna, but Mathews grabs the bottom rope, which Cesar instantly recognizes. Annoyed by this, Moke tugs at Anna’s hair till she stands, permitting four gruesome headbutts into a sidewalk slam! Rallying support for Anna, Maverick yells words of encouragement that make Moke laugh. But it wasn’t a laughing matter when Anna headbutted Moke in the groin, then hurled a big ball of violence into Moke’s face! A BOOMERFLY KICK SENT MOKE OUT OF THE RING!

- This opening is seized to tag in Maverick, who darts over to Dragon and palms him in the face, which actually receives a hilarious vocal response of, “OH FUCK, MY FACE!” as Dragon sits up on the outside! Before Moke Doshky can fully stand, Maverick’s suicide splash halts Moke’s gathering. Not stopping there, Maverick jumps onto the guardrail, hi-fives a small child in the front row before moonsaulting onto Moke! Of course, that got much love from the crowd. “This is the best outing Maverick has had in a few weeks!” Gordon proclaims.

- Salazar is up to a six count, but Maverick shoves the massive Moke beneath the bottom rope and into the ring in time to strike The Dragon, who tried sneak attacking Maverick, with a roaring elbow to the chin! Ascending the apron and then turnbuckle, Maverick’s moonsault knee drop nailed Moke so awfully in the chest, a consecutive three count followed shortly after! The KKK has defeated Might & Magic to become the new number one contenders for the REBEL Pro Tag Team Championships!

- Black Flag’s “Rise Above” announces Kontroversy Kreates Kake’s win, but more noticeably, Salazar raising both arms of Mathews & Maverick at centre of the ring! Afterward, Salazar extends his hands for both Anna and Maverick to shake, but their taken aback by this gesture. Seeing them being too confused to react accordingly, Salazar smirks as he lowers his hands. Nodding, the member of Wrestling’s Undisputed leaves the ring and rejoins Deicide, to walk up the ramp, carrying their Undisputed Tag Championships, leaving KKK to bask in the audience’s cheerfulness.

Winners: Johnny Maverick & Anna Mathews (The KKK) in 16 mins, 42 secs

Commercial for Dave’s Thumbtacks, do you get the point yet?

Main Event

Revenge of the Exciting Wood Match

Marvin Wood vs Virgil Keenan

We are back from commercial break when Larry Gordon steps to the ringside area and yanks the microphone from Jenny Jersey.

Gordon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that both Marvin Wood and Virgil Keenan are not here this evening.”

The crowd boos.

“Mr. Wood’s plane was delayed due to a freak storm and Mr. Keenan refused to give you… jackasses another drop of his precious rule abiding blood.”

More boos, both at Gordon and at Virgil.

“I’m A Rebel” hits up in the speakers, the crowd begins to disperse when “Badass” hits up and Dale Petty stomps out. The crowd immediately stops and turns their attention back to this.

Gordon” You!”

Disgust in his voice, Dale nods.

Dale: “Me, you fat sumbitch.”

Gordon is furious.

Gordon: “What in the hell do you want?! You got back in.”

Dale walks down to Gordon, patting his fat stomach.

Dale: “I want my name back.”

Gordon smirks and shakes his head.

Gordon: “That… I own.”

Dale smirks.

Dale: “I’ll fight you for it.”

Gordon shakes his head, he knows Dale would win that fight.

Gordon: “Ain’t happening.”

The crowd begins to chant “chicken shit” at Gordon, but he doesn’t budge.

Dale: “So, you disappoint this crowd, you don’t have anything to back this match up, you refuse to fight…”

Gordon nods.

Gordon: “What do I care? I make money on their blood thirst, on your lack of any other skills, on the flesh torn by you rabid animals…”

Dale smirks.

Dale: “So, you think you are pretty smart huh?”

Gordon taps his skull.

Dale: “Read that contract Gordon?”

Gordon looks apprehensive.

Dale: “I get 1 match of my choosing, for anything.”

Gordon smirks.

Gordon: “Against any wrestler.”

Dale nods.

Dale: “Any stipulation.”

Gordon smiles.

Gordon: “Ok…”

Dale: “I’m fighting Bobby Lee for the right to my name and for 2 percent of this company.”

Gordon: “That’s bullshit!”

Dale smiles: “You could have just given it to me and that would have been that.”

Gordon: “Ok, you can have it back.”

Dale nods, lighting up.

Dale: “Damn right and I’ll get 2 percent control of this company, shoulda agreed you fat…”

Trailer Park Trash on Gordon!

Dale: “Fuck!”

The crowd roars, but Dale turns back to the camera.

“Norton, good job on Case, I liked what I saw.”

e waits, the crowd listening as he gives his approval.

“Macca… that was fun… I want another go around, what ya say?”

He throws the mic down as the show fades.

Quick Results

Sean Robinson defeated Jeremy Gold
Jake Norton closed the case on Justin Case
Tony Edison defeated Jonathan Cage
Macca defeated Dale Petty
Maverick/Matthews(KKK) defeated Might and Magic
Marvin Wood vs Virgil Keenen was a no contest

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