Wrestlestock 2: TV TITLE ROYALE!

[jediPREZ]

(FADEIN: The flickers of a lighter flint failing to produce a flame in darkness...)

"I've failed to quell the burning desire...the heat, the beauty and violence of its inherent chaotic dance..."

(Finally, the flint's spark ignites a victorious and rather large flame in front of the obscured face of TORCH, who has half of his long, wild red hair hanging in front of the left side of his face.)

TORCH: "It is not MY fault that I have regressed. Men like DC Stratton, Felix Red and Tsunami -- the supposed heretic freaks of the New Frontier...they TEMPTED ME...but most importantly, they FREED me. Now, I've been reassigned to the bottom of pit, where I shall rekindle my raging, wanton battles of brutality. This Television Title may not be mine to win, but when I look at men like Lord Coyner Pollard...Phil Atken...Cameron Cruise...Brian Duncan...FAIL to defend the FLAME OF THE FRONTIER early on...let it be said that there will be one man here to make sure it BURNS BRIGHTLY..."

(TORCH starts looking into the flame and laughing...)

TORCH: "And maybe one of them as well! There is HYSTERIA in MY PYROMANIA, the ETERNAL FLAME BURNS MY HEART!"

(FTB as TORCH keeps laughing wildly.)

 

[DWoods]

WARNING
IF YOU ARE AN OVERLY SENSITIVE SUCKA
PLEASE... FRIG `AFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!​

(CUE-UP: “Shimmy Shimmy Ya” – O.D.B.)

(FADE-IN: A `65 Ford Pinto rolls to a stop in a gravel driveway. The driver’s side door opens and out steps JOHN TROJAN, gazing skyward, as he pushes his enormous, custom-made aviator sunglasses further up his nose. He sucks in a breath of fresh air.)

TROJAN: “All clear.”

(JOE THE PLUMBER slips out of the passenger’s side door and walks around to meet Trojan on the other side of the ratty-ass vehicle. Yes, he’s no longer confined to the Sailor-Proof Thunderdome. What happened, you ask? Well, slight discomfort, for one. Joe awoke one morning with a burning in his loins and an itchy scalp. By day’s end his fingernails were caked in dried blood, dandruff, and stale piss/semen. So, across town, to the walk-in clinic, he ventured, wary of the perverse, ill-intentioned voyeur hidden in the trees, around every corner, submerged the murky waters of the back of the crapper, ready to pop out and bludgeon him to death at any moment. The trip was necessary though.

The physician’s diagnosis? Well...)

(CUT TO: Joe the Plumber, dressed in a pale-green hospital gown, sitting, twiddling his thumbs in an examination room.

A doctor resembling Bob Hope enters with a clipboard in hand.)

JTP: “What’s the prognosis, doc’?”

DR. “BOB HOPE”: “Joe, I don’t really know how else to say this, but... you have pubic lice... in your hair... the hair on your head... and this confuses me greatly.”

JTP: “That’s f*cked. Say, what if I just chop it all off? Ol’ Joe can reinvent himself for the Battle Royale, come out like a skinhead, m’words laced with racial epithets!”

DR. “BOB HOPE”: “Y’see, Joe...” (He sets the clipboard aside, turns and leans against an adjacent counter, casual-like, heaving a heavy sigh.) “This is a particularly strange case for pubic lice; a beetle-sized strain that is attempting to burrow into your skull. Now, I don’t know whether they have succeeded yet in doing so, just that they are in the process of doing so. One appears to have its head lodged beneath the skin. I would suggest more tests and definitive treatment over the course of the next several months. You’ll most likely need to take time off work.”

(CLOSE-UP OF JTP’S FACE: His brow furrows; his expression turns cold and vacant.)

JTP: “So, what yer sayin’ is, my brain... it’s bein’ encroached by those lil’ f*ckers. They wanna take control.”

DR. “BOB HOPE”: “They may already be in control. There’s no telling without further testing. Tell me, have you experienced moments of profound anger or blind rage? Do you often visualize things that aren’t there? Has anyone close to you ever made mention of you speaking or reacting to a person or thing that is not real but rather... a hallucination?”

(JTP looks to John Trojan, standing in the corner of the room, posing with his police-issued firearm.)

JTP: “Hey, John, have I ever imagined some sh*t that wasn’t there? Like that time we smoked that meth and I said I saw my words escape my mouth and float through the air in the shape of music notes, and you were dressed in that gothic suit of armour, just tearin' into that axe wrapped in barbed-wire – and the pyro, holy f*ck the pyro! Out of this world!”

TROJAN: “Ya mean THIS axe, Joe?”

(Trojan reaches back and draws the previously described guitar as if it were a samurai sword. He then lays down a few riffs, while Joe head bangs, releasing a wave of vicious-looking and abnormally large pubic lice, capable of flight, into the air. They circle the room once, before landing safely on Joe’s scalp. He, however, does not seem the least bit put-out by the infestation.

P.O.V. SHOT – DR. “BOB HOPE” – looks to the corner of the room where Joe’s attention is directed and sees absolutely nothing.)

DR. “BOB HOPE”: “Okay, I’ll go ahead and book another appointment for next week. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

(JTP slips off the examination table and swaggers past the doctor.)

JTP: “Naw, don’t worry about it. The itching is gone, replaced by a sort of numb feeling – must be a good sign! If those lil’ devils can work their magic on the rest of my body, I’ll be unstoppable. Suckas will be clubbin’ on Ol’ Joe, and Ol’ Joe’ll be all, “BEAT IT YOUNG MAN, GET OUTTA HERE! I DON’T FEEL PAIN! MY BRAIN’S INFECTED, MA’!” What’re ya gonna do with a Sucka-Free Bouse commanded by the most insidious creatures birthed of a crack-induced one night stand with a transvestite hooker in Indonesia on a WEDNESDAY F*CKIN’ NIGHT! UGHNN! Frig `afffff! Quit tryinna eradicate my gift with your overpriced, overeducated, proven medical remedies! If they get too outta hand, I’ll just bash my head off a brick wall and shake ‘em up a bit!

(CUT BACK TO PRESENT-TIME –

Joe and Trojan have since entered the Plumber household. Joe chills on the cushion-less sofa; Trojan in the oak rocking chair that Joe robbed from an old, diabetic woman. He didn’t give a f*ck that she was diabetic, are you kidding me? He was walking down the street, saw her through the front window of her house enjoying the experience of rocking back and forth in her finely crafted, antique rocking chair, and straight-up robbed the b*tch! Entered her home under the guise of a vacuum cleaner salesman, football tackled her to the floor, put the boots to her withered, old womb, and then fireman’s carried that beautiful piece of old-world craftsmanship back to his den!

It really offsets the compounding filth littered throughout the rest of the house.

Finally, the camera settles on Joe, face-to-face. Promo time.

Joe is adorned in an orange hunting jacket, his usual soiled overalls (straps down), and a secondhand plain white tee with “Sometimes Misconceptions Lead to Missed Conceptions” written across the chest, with a cartoon stork straight chillin’ in the background.)

JTP: “I’ve been givin’ this a lot of thought. Bein’ cooped up in that infernal cage lo’ these past several weeks has left me with little-to-no knowledge of the outside world. Seems not much has changed. Seems no one has decided to cut a promo on Ol’ Joe – no one worth a damn, anyway.

See, I didn’t make it a full year as champ by being absolutely f*ckin’ terrible. You’re all trash. Every last one of you. I don’t even wanna tell ya’ll what I truly think of ya’all. OH WHO AM I KIDDIN’? I’D LOVE TO TELL YA’LL WHAT I THINK OF YA’ALL!

Hunchblack, you’re black and you’re obviously an evil troll (I don’t know which is more disconcerting), so there’s a pretty good chance I’m your father. One night, many years ago, Ol’ Joe was feelin’ particularly good, having snorted his weight in crack cocaine, when he wandered beneath a bridge connecting two neighbouring cities. It was there that I met a woman with the most pronounced hump I’d ever laid my eyes upon. She was hunched over a burning trash can, trying to keep warm, when I came up behind her, shoved her to the ground, and made sweet, sweet, unprotected love to her anus. She was white, but I’ve heard that it’s possible for an anal pregnancy to birth a black child. In this case, my son, the ghastly amalgam of my ravenous seed and your mother’s percolating turd nugget twisted, bubbled, bent, and shaped over what must’ve been a very painful nine months... to form you. I’d heard tell a child being left to soak in the fecal-brown waters of a Burger King toilet some years ago, but I’d neglected to investigate the matter. I’m just so happy NFW has brought us back together.

Tell your whore mother I ain’t payin’ sh*t for child support, though! I mean, is it not common place for the father of a black child to disappear for twenty-odd years only to reappear by some unfortunate twist of fate? `Cause if it is, I’m sure there’s some precedent in me keepin’ minez and you keepin’ yourz, i.e. your unsightly deformity. Funny thing, you try to liken yourself to Scarface, but have you ever nose-dived into a mountain of cocaine only to awake three days later with a boner three times the size of your normal erection, seated next to Maury Povich as he looks at you in an accusatory and judgemental manner? I THINK NOT! If anything, you should give ME money! I’ve always dreamed of having a child that I could either pimp or get to slang dope for me. So, from my calculations – (Joe mimes plucking away at the buttons on a calculator floating in mid-air) – you owe me a grand total of fiddy thousand dollars! Gimme my f*ckin’ money and BEAT IT! Go back to spyin’ on spandex-clad bikers in the park across from the clock tower you inhabit! If you think Pappa Plumber spares the rod and spoils the child you’ve got another thing comin’! I’ll hack off your hump with the battle axe I bought at the kiosk at the mall and cook that sh*t rotisserie-style, motherf*cker! Invite over all my white supremacist, troll-hating friends – and Ol’ Joe bein’ as intolerant as he is, he’s got plenty – and we’ll feast on your dirty sack of puss and meat! Unless, of course, your ailment is but a rouse, and your hump contains wares stolen from the gypsy camps you’ve called home during your travels! I’ll have those items! I’ll shove my golden plunger aside and rest your precious treasures on my mantel to remind me of the son I once had! Soon to be a fermenting heap of piss and sh*t buried beneath the floor of some dingy Motel 6!

I bet Ol’ Joe’s got you shook! Well, I’m a BEAST! When I sit down at the dinner table, I say an extra special grace, I say: “THANK YOU JOE FOR THE SOULS I AM ABOUT TO CONSUME!” – and then I lift the stainless steel top of the serving tray to reveal the hearts of past contenders! You won’t be any different! I’ll eat you alive in the middle of the ring with some beans and a nice Chianti!

Varga, I’m going to save you some trouble right now: You’re not winning. That’s it. You’re a herbivore; I’m a carnivore. Putting “Evil” in front of your name doesn’t make you anymore intimidating. You want to know the secret to striking fear in your opponents? An unwillingness to take an AIDS test. A c*ck that springs to life and snaps at suckas’ faces like a rattlesnake! Fingernails that smell like last Tuesday’s toilet-clogging, colon-cleansing, triumphant bastard sh*t that just about ripped your anus is two! Oh! And the ability to climb down your throat and string razorwire around your voice box like Christmas lights! You possess none of these qualities! Ol’ Joe invented these qualities! Ol’ Joe IS quality! You’ve got quantity, but sad to say it amounts to, well... is there scientific name for the fuzz that grows on a banana-shaped piece of sweaty excrement left to sit in the sun on a hot, summer day? If there is, Varga, that’s you. You’re fecal fuzz. I don’t touch d*cks – I don’t even touch my own. I hop in my Delorean, travel ten years into the future, and get your children to press ma’ sh*t over their heads, as I piss into your wifey’s mouth! THINK I’M JOKIN’? FRIG `AFF! Your promos can multiply like zits on my ass, and no one – NOT NO ONE – will know who the f*ck “Evil James Varga” is when this is all said and done. Quit tryinna get some shine off the Sucka-Free BOUSE.

ADD, DON’T YOU DARE SAY YOU GON’ BE THE PLUMBER. You don’t have what it takes to spend twelve hours a day gettin’ liquid, black sh*t SPAT into yer face, in yer mouth, all in your hair... Try as you might, you’ll never be Joe the Plumber! I’m Ali, ma’! I float like a butterfly and stink like pee! I beat NOVA – I ASKED FOR THAT SUM’B*TCH! Ol’ Joe called up management, drunk off a quart of JD, a joint smoked to the filter and the filter smoked to my finger tips, and I said, “Gimme that faggot Nova! He ain’t got what it takes to beat JAY TEE PEE!” And he didn’t.

`Cuz he’s a B*TCH. And it’s a f*ckin’ travesty that I’m stuck wrastlin’ a bunch of nobodies and skeezers when I should be main eventin’, gettin’ paid like a headliner!

To the rest of ya, I got some news today. Turns out I may or may not – or will soon – have devils livin’ on and beneath the surface of my scalp. Now, I’ve given this some thought, and I’ve decided to embrace my condition. I’m going to sprinkle garlic salt in my hair from now until WrestleStock. Keep those lil’ buggers GOIN’ STRONG! I’ll dim the lights, put on some Barry Manilow, and think about fat chicks that don’t wipe properly and request a rimmer from Ol’ Joe! OH BABY I LIKE IT RAAAAW! EROTIC! Get ‘em matin’! Ol’ Joe will show up to the Battle Royale like Medusa – turn yer sh*t to stone with just a gaze! And I’m gonna treat you bastidz to a few of trademark Joe headbutts! With any luck, a few might “jump ship.” I’m sure that’ll f*ck with your summer plans! See, Ol’ Joe – he just accepts that along the way he’s gonna contract a whole mess `a diseases and infections – that’s what happens when you live in squalor and penetrate every reasonably moist, used-up hole that’s too malnourished and/or mentally deficient to put up a struggle. Guaranteed, if Ol’ Joe can drive a few beers and a couple joints into a young, fresh, impressionable tenderoni, a night of ravage d*ckin’ and sweatin’ will be forthcomin’! My body is a haven for every thought-to-be extent ailment this planet has ever known! The Black Plague? Alive and well in Ol’ Joe! Some say it gives me special powers, that I owe my legendary TV title reign to it and the myriad of STIs that call my body home! Well, I can’t confirm or deny, but I’ll say this: I’ve shared needles in the slums of Africa with some pretty off-colour-lookin’ mutha’f*ckaz! I'm from the gutter! I’ve snorted crack with coagulated blood all mixed in and throughout! DIDN’T PHASE ME!”

(CUT TO:

JTP sitting in the affluent-by-comparison African “summer home” of JUDAH – an Old Dirty Bastard-lookin’ crack dealer, who speaks in a sing-song tone – watching him cut lines for them to snort.)

JUDAH: “Virgin Islands cocaine, nigga. They cut that sh*t wit’ novocaine, son. You could get novocaine at the grocery store there, nigga. You put that sh*t all up on your teef, you could get them sh*ts pulled, son, ain’t feel sh*t but the dentist leg brushin’ up on your d*ck, gettin’ all hard, nigga. You blow ‘at novocaine coke up the f*ckin’ nosepiece, you think you flyin’ high in the sky, you wake your black ass up, you dead on the insides of a bathtub. You wake up dead, nig. I got a word for that sh*t, I took the “novo” from “novocaine” and the “caine” from “cocaine,” I call that sh*t “novocaine,” son. And that’s real. That’s my word. Bird, that’s the f*ckin’ word. You feel me?”

JTP: (smiling) “I like you, Judah, because whenever you clog your sh*tter tryinna dispose of a dead body, you call me over, I do the job, and you pay me in crack. It’s tough bein’ a white man when you’re tryinna buy crack. They always want to push “weed” on me – I’m like “No, I’m not seventeen; I want to get F*CKED-UP tonight.” Plus, you’ve always got the best sh*t.”

(CUT BACK TO JOE, PRESENT-DAY –

Fond memories of Judah prior to his unfortunate death... gunned down by half a dozen cops in the streets of Brooklyn. So what if he shot first? He straight-up thought he was still playin’ GTA: San Andreas, and was attempting to reach the maximum “wanted” level in the game. It’s too bad that in real life, when you get shot, you die. No one told Judah that, unfortunately. He just figured he was immortal because he hadn’t been killed up until the point when he actually was killed.

Anyway, Joe is busy staring off into space. He snaps back to reality and refocuses his attention on the camera.)

JTP: “SO LET ME ASK YOU ALL A QUESTION: HOW ARE YOU GONNA BEAT A MAN WHO’S EASILY TROUNCED EVERY CHALLENGER PUT IN FRONT OF HIM? OL’ JOE HAS ACCOMPLISHED THIS AMAZING FEAT DESPITE SMOKIN’ UPWARDS OF EIGHTY INDIAN CIGS A DAY, CONSUMING A QUART OF JD, HALF-AN-OUNCE OF COKE, AND DRIVING MY RATTY-ASS PINTO THROUGH CONVENIENCE STORE WINDOWS? I’VE GOT SHARDS OF GLASS STUCK IN ME FROM A JANUARY D.U.I. CONVICTION THAT I JUST CAN’T BE BOTHERED TO PICK OUT! IF THAT AIN’T THE MAKINS’ OF A BOUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS!

I just got one more thing to say... In the past Ol’ Joe’s dedicated his greatest successes to those who’ve played significant roles in his life. I dedicated my TV Title win to my father, the prick. I dedicated my heroic victory over Nova to my dog Volcano, may he rest in peace. And I dedicated the one-year anniversary of my championship reign to my deceased/deflated girlfriend Sexy Stacy. But this conquest – defeating twenty-four other men to walk away STILL NFW TV Champ – well... I’m claimin’ that for Ol’ Joe! For me! I’m gonna be selfish here and dedicate the win to myself! Then afterwards, I’m gonna head on over to my favorite burger place and eat my weight in uncooked ground beef! UGHNN! Good weed, good drink, big money – I handle my bid’niz, so I think I deserve to get throweeed! Throoowweed!”

(FTB)

 

[suddenimpact]

(FADEIN: Same image as before, only the mask is facing to the side.)

When I started wrestling here, I said, in various languages, that the messenger is not important. That's the most important reason why I wear this mask. I don't want anything about me to be memorable except for what I can do in the ring.

Go ahead and laugh. I'll wait.

Rook Black had a different take when we faced off. Paraphrasing, he told me that the messenger is not important except in the case that the messenger, by state of being, by their actions - dilutes that message. In that case, the message is still the most important thing, but only when people are willing to listen to it.

The TL, DR version of that is that the whole point of the Wrestling Revolucion is to bring it back to wrestling and make sure that the men and women holding the belts are people that can bring honor and credibility to the title, the promotion, and the Revolucion itself.

My point?

A wrestler has to win this match.

A wrestler.

Not a plumber. Not a soldier. Not a Hunchback. Not a Celebritarian Debutante. The Wrestling Revolucion needs a wrestler to leave Wrestlestock with the Television Title.

I'm not saying or implying that this match doesn't belong to anyone. I'm not that arrogant. But - whatever your secondary reason is - you'd better be able to wrestle. Like Joe, himself. The fact that he defines himself as a Plumber just goes to show how good he is at what he does: under traditional circumstances he'd never have held onto his belt as long as he has.

But that's his weakness. He's overconfident and filled with arrogance. It'll happen when you hold a major championship for a full year, but if he begins to believe his own hype, he doesn't stand a chance. The moment Joe the Plumber declared himself impossible to dethrone, he sowed the seeds of his downfall.

Hunchblack, much the same, has the same chance as the rest of us in this match, except, he's not a wrestler.

He makes that clear in everything he does. He's not a wrestler, he's a hunchback who happens to be wrestling. And as long as he defines himself as OTHER THAN A WRESTLER, he is not part of the Revolucion.

Unborn living, living dead, the Unknown Soldier - the thing you don't understand is that the REVOLUCION is one of WRESTLING. The Professional owners and operators of this company want to see WRESTLING again. The chaos and reality warping that became treasure and trade of the two Ultratitle seasons have been pushed to the background in favor of things beginning and ending in the wrestling ring - under threat of skull crushing, chair - induced removal from the company, sure, but the point is wrestling. The point was always wrestling. Nova's Counter - Revolucion is doomed to fail because by its nature it goes against Eddie Mayfield and Miles, and therefore, against the WRESTLING of New Frontier.

Your intentions to drop a the equivalent of a nuclear warhead on NFW will wipe out both sides, and what's the point of fighting then?

Right now there's something in NFW worth fighting for, something more significant than ashes. Remove that, and you're far more evil than Evil James could ever hope to be.

Of course Evil James is only as evil as his name, but he's more attracted to the idea of being the NFW Television Champion than he is actually winning the title itself.

Evil James, all the press you've been doing, all the interviews and humorous quips at all of us that'll be in the ring with you? How is that going to help you when you're actually in that ring, and you have to win? With all the talking you've been doing, you really do have to win to have any credibility. A bit of advice - as much as it'll hurt you, should you eliminate any of us, don't stop and offer an amusing soundbyte to the cameras. I promise you, it'll cost you.

I remember watching Seymour Almasy in the second Ultratitle season right here, and while I thought his character was lacking, his ability was right on. Seymour, or Almasy Death, whatever you're going to answer to now... listen to me.

Listen.

This is not the same NFW that scarred you.

If you feel you have to take a pound of flesh plus interest for things that happened to you a year ago, I know I won't be able to talk you out of it. But this is not the lawless asylum of chaos that you seem intent on making it. This is a wrestling promotion where most of us have nothing to do with Season 2 of the Ultratitle. This is a wrestling promotion that Miles and Eddie Mayfield are actually trying to use to kickstart a WORLDWIDE Wrestling Revolucion, and bring WRESTLING back to the spotlight.

If you can't believe that...

If you won't...

Then there's nothing I can do. Nothing, but survive you. It's sort of my thing.

Well, that's five. Nineteen to go.

I don't know where I'm headed, but I know what got me here. I don't know where I'm headed, but I know how to get there.

One step and then another gets you where you're going.

One step and then another will get me to the NFW Television Championship.

Maybe it won't. But I've only got one job in this match: a wrestler. The one thing I have plenty of, is time.

Viva Revolucion.

FADE

 

[Evil James]

Evil James - Webcast Interview

04/24/08
This afternoon...

[At the Gold's Gym in the downtown area of Las Vegas, an NFW camera crew has set up a special NFW interview area for a special live web broadcast of Evil James Varga's comments regaarding some of his opposition in the NFW TV Championship Royale. The NFW logo is enblazened on a black screen as Evil James walks on set and is handed a microphone. He acknowledges the person giving him the mic and then turns the camera as the live internet feed begins.]

Evil James: Hello fans of the NFW. Let come out and say thank you for taking the time to see this interview on the web. I am here to say a few words to my opponents in this match yet again this week.

Well there's been three jokers running their mouths around the NFW today.

The first one I rally must address is the NFW Television Champion by the name of Joe the Plumber. This guy is really high on himself. Or he may just be high, I really can't tell. For one thing the guy talks like a rapper. What the hell is he? The NFW's equivalent of Kazaam the Rapping Genie? I mean seriously, this guy sounds like he just got through recording a rap album. What a great champion. A guy with a plunger. He talks all bad but really all he really is is a guy who unclogs toilets.

Yeah, you heard me right. Joe the Plumber is nothing more than Snoop Dogg with a plunger. You say you've easily beaten all your challengers? Well that's because you haven't met any of us non-NFW people. One of us could take that strap from you.

However, you have an aura of invincibility about you that's gotten to your small, pea-sized brain. Well let me give you a reality check. There's twenty four other wrestlers in this match besides you so the chances of you holding onto that strap after this Royale is over with is very slim. Slim to none, actually. Anorexic.

You talk a lot of **** but that's probably because that's what you see everyday when you're
looking in the mirror. Nothing but ****. Now what you should do is stick to your day job.

You know, the typical stuff like unclogging drains, getting **** unplugged out of toilets, and those kinds of things. I mean, calling me a "sucka" isn't going to help you at all. In fact, it's going to make people think that you're this guy.

[Evil James holds up a picture.]

[He then puts the picture away.]

Evil James: All you can do is put on a tough guy act and try to sound like a bad ass when instead you sound like a ****ing retarded special ed child in the eighth grade that's listened to too much hip-hop music and grew up in a ghetto.

You're all talk, Joe. You're nothing more than a paper champion in my eyes. Rest assured,
I will be taking that belt from around your ugly, flabby waist. I mean, the people are sick and tired of seeing you with it. The NFW management apparently is too. I mean, they've called for wrestlers from all over the globe to take that belt from you.

Fortunately for them, I showed up. I am the future of that championship belt. Joe the
Plumber will be no more. He will be plunged like the piece of **** he is out of the toilet and straight down the drain where he belongs with all the other pieces of **** down in the sewer.

After Wrestle Stock is over, no one will remember Joe the Plumber. Instead they will remember him losing to one of the greatest performances in NFW history put forth by me, James Varga.

You are nothing to me, Joe. I will be taking that belt home with me. It will just be another trophy in my long list of them. I've won thirty six championships in my career.

Joe, your time is up. It's the time of the apocalypse. It's time for a new beginning for the NFW Television championship. And that new beeginning is James Varga.

[Evil James smiles proudly as he then goes into the next person to face his wrath.]

Evil James: Then we have Impulse. You asked me what I would do when I'm in the ring and have to win the match?

Well I'm always one to rise to the occasion. And you're right, I'm in a must win. We both are, as a matter of fact. We both drew very low single didgit numbers. So we both have to put in a lot of effort just to survive this match. We both must last a long time in order to win.

And Impluse, you don't have to worry about me making any soundbytes or smart ass quips. I am all business in the ring and soon you will all soon see that when the match takes place.

I'm in this prove a point, Impulse. People seem to be thinking that I'm nothing more than a joke for years. Well this is the year is the year that I break out and kick some major ass.

This will be the wake-up call for the wrestling community. This will be the showcase of James Varga.

[Evil James smirks deviously.]

Evil James: And finally Torch, you psychotic pyromaniac. The people you mentionned, they all fail to defend the flame of the frontier because they are afraid of the apocalypse that will be unleashed with Joe the Plumber loses the belt. Prepare for the Unholy Reign of Evil James to begin very shortly. Very shortly indeed...

[Evil James scowls at the camera and walks off the set as the scene cuts out.]

Cut.

 

[suddenimpact]

Scene of the Crime

April 16th, 2008.

Wrestlestock II officially kicks off tomorrow. In the distance, the Village is just about completely set up. In the distance - twenty feet away. The area is roped off to keep the fans who showed up early from interfering with the workers, but to be honest, the ropes are unneccesary.

There are several thousand people here already. If they wanted in, they'd be in.

The hardest - core fans have been here since Sunday night. There are already several communities fanning out around enormous bonfires, with smaller campfires dotted in the hundreds all around. The communities seem primarily partitioned off based on the drug of choice, yet, everyone is friendly with everyone else so far.

Drum circles, accoustic guitars, and beat poetry keep everyone happy.

We got here about four hours ago, and set up shop on the outskirts. Both Rose and myself are looking forward to mingling with everyone, but she's been able to breathe normally for the past few weeks and I'd rather be able to return to a smoke free place to sleep, for her sake but for mine, too.

It's funny, we always talked about going to Burning Man, but neither of us ever thought it'd be with NFW.

NFW.

The biggest match of my still - too - short career is in four days.

I'm having a great time here, and I'm meeting some really cool people, but my mind is focused four days from now.

Rose is a sweetheart, she knows I'm tense, and she keeps asking me what's up, but she already knows. She always knows.

Don't go crazy, I'm telling myself. You're at the professional wrestling equivalent of Woodstock, and you have to rein it in a bit because you've gotta follow Hendrix.

Wow. I've never seen this many cans of nitrous in one place at one time. No thanks, no thanks, I'm here for the wrestling and the music. Yes, I'm serious.

Cool? Cool.

That may be the largest amount of drugs offered to a person in that short a timeframe... ever.

Brownies? Sold.

There's no smoke involved. Rose can partake, and what's the desert, and a bonfire, without a little something - something?

There's that smile I love so much. For a big city girl, Rose is a dirty, dirty hippie at heart. Her mom is still in Vegas, glued to a slot machine (anyone who tries to tell me Miles is a heartless bastard is getting a fist to the face) with a comp'd room until Sunday. As long as Rosie doesn't go home with a tattoo in a visible location she'll be fine.

And the Plumber Invitational participants are still stuck in the back of my head.

Hey, hey buddy?

Yeah, you. Once the sun goes down a bit, can I borrow that camera?

If you really think I'd run off with it, you can hold onto it. I just need to record something and bring it to the trucks.

No, man. Where would I go? We're in the middle of the desert. Fine, fine. Here's an all access pass. Will that buy me thirty minutes?

Awesome.

Enjoy the drum circle, Rosie... I'll be back in a few. Once I get this off my brain, I'll be much more relaxed, and we can enjoy the next few days.

And... go.

 

[Evil James]

Evil James - A Must Win Situation

04/24/08

The days are moving closer now. The match is almost at hand.

Wrestlestock fever has hit the entire western half of the United States. And the event is close to my hometown of Las Vegas, Nevada.

And I've had a whirlwind of a week. It's been complete chaos and has been hectic beyond belief. I've done so many radio and television interviews that I don't even know what half of them have been for.

But the main thing on my mind is proving myself to the fanbase of NFW that has little prior knowledge of me.

My hope is to earn their respect by beating up their heroes. These guys that represent NFW are going to try and do the same to all of the outsiders in the match. That is what I think will happen. However, in order to survive, I might have to team up with some of my competitors to eliminate people.

Alliances formed and broken will be the key to my success in this match. If I can manipulate some people from time to time during the match and we team up to
get out the big threats, then I might have a better chance to win. That is just a thought.

In battle, anything can happen.

I may have to team up with my worst enemy to get out a bigger threat. If it comes down to such an unholy alliance, then so be it.

Apparently people are already showing up for the pay-per-view.

It's still days away from now but some people are psychotic.

Then again, so are some of my opponents. Namely Joe the Plumber for starters.

This is a man who thinks that he is invincible to lose his belt.

No man in invincible, especially a plumber who makes about ten bucks an hour.

Some of my opponents are probably thinking the same thing as well, which should frighten him but it probably wont. At least some of them have common sense.

Joe the Plumber, however, believes that this is all about him.

He is wrong.

This is about competition.

This is about the people.

This is about the gold.

Everything for him will be on the line in this match. He stands the chance at becoming a legend or losing it all in one match. It's do or die for him and he still doesn't realize it. He thinks no wrestler can beat him. He is wrong.

Anyone can be beaten at any time.

The fans who have paid to see the match are counting on this very fact.

Now I know I'm no fan favorite. The people haven't been kind to me over the years. But I do know that they will hate Joe the Plumber more than anyone in the
match.

That gives me hope. Hope that they razz him to the point where his head isn't in the game.

I want to make his life miserable by taking the gold that he worships.

I basically want to break his spirit by stealing his gold like a pirate in the night swooping in from the sea and stealing it while you sleep.

I will use any tactics and means neccessary to achieve this goal.

This will be my shining moment.

I'm going out there as a huge underdog. I've only been in two TEAM matches before and that's the only exposure that I've gotten in the NFW territorial area.

But that's all in the past. This is the here and the now. And my only goal is to win this match.

And if I don't, I'll take as many of them down as I can if that happens.

But it won't happen.

I am going to win.

I MUST win.

For my own sake...

CUT.

 

[suddenimpact]

Second Sight

(Hours later...

The camera is being held by someone with surprisingly steady hands. Directly in front of him is a flickering campfire, and on the other side of the campfire is the shape of a man. His face is obscured by the way the flames are flickering. All they reveal is a strong chin with one days beard growth, and dark-ish colored hair that's not too long and not too short.

Yeah, that's me. I thought it'd be a bit too conspicuous to pull out my mask, so I waited until the light could do the trick.

Down and to the left, that's Rosie's leg in those girl pants that aren't shorts and aren't long pants, and those Converse low tops that don't have laces. It's getting a bit chilly so she wanted to sit close to the fire, but I thought it might be less distracting if she was out of frame.

And... it's been four hours.

And... go.)

It's the most obvious thing that none of us have even thought of yet. While the Champion's Advantage is neutralized in this Random Rumble, the fact remains, the best wrestler in the bunch is not necessarily going to win.

Objectively speaking, the best wrestler in this thing could be The British Bomber. Objectively speaking, the worst wrestler in this thing could be Almasy Death.

What good's that do the Bomber, when he's going to have to wrestle a minimum of an hour to win? What's it say about Almasy, when, objectively speaking, he could very well walk to the ring, wait two minutes for the final mystery man, and walk out thirty seconds later as Television Champion?

Let's just say for the sake of argument that I somehow manage to perform a miracle and am one of the final two wrestlers in the ring. Let's just say, that Almasy is the other. Can it truly be said he's a better wrestler if he defeats me in that case? When I'd been in the ring for at least forty - five minutes longer than him?

He could be. But he wouldn't be proving it in that situation.

That's what everyone is missing. My opponent have been making the case that they're the greatest wrestler in the world, and the rest of us are equally as bad as they are good.

(At this point, I unzipped my sweatshirt and took it off, revealing my vintage 1999 'Hurricane Eddy' T-shirt, yes it's an original, no you won't be able to find one. I'm not trying to show you my shirt, it's just that my lady is chilly.

So I handed it off to her. Sometimes a sweatshirt is just a sweatshirt. I don't smoke cigars.)

Personally, I'd rather be lucky than good this Sunday. Ideally, I'd like to walk out of the ring with my hand raised, and a title belt in my hand, and have twenty four opponents look at me with the same thought in their mind:

'You lucky bum.'

I'd be happy to get into the ring with all twenty four of them, all in order, and try to back up that luck with something else.

Of course, since this is New Frontier Wrestling, luck is always going to play a part in whether we win or lose. This is New Frontier Wrestling, and the guy or gal across the ring from you isn't there to make you look good; they're there because they're just as good as you and maybe a little bit better on occasion.

Have I been lucky so far? I'd have to say yes. It's true, my win column is a bit light on the draw, but I've walked away from all of them and come back for more. I've been in the ring with legends like Rook Black, champions like Teresa Q, and powerhouses like Brock Alyas. I'd say I'm pretty damned lucky to have opponents like that under my belt.

Maybe my luck has been building up for a great big payoff out here in the desert. Maybe I'll be able to pull a Ric Flair and defy the odds.

Well...

Maybe not.

One way or another, though - this weekend in the desert, I'm going to find the last piece of the puzzle. I'm going to bring my current momentum to a screeching halt and flip it the other way.

One way or another... this weekend will be The Making of Impulse.

And I'm going to make the NFW as proud to have me on their roster as I am to be here.

(Rosie passed me a bottle of something. I know I saw at least one still set up, so I'm prepared to choke down something foul and gravelly. But this moonshine - twenty minutes ago is a very good year - is actually relatively smooth. Fancy that. I took another sip and passed the bottle along.)

*Cough* I can still take a hit. But now we'll see how well I can dish 'em out, too.

(I nodded, and the camera faded out. Tomorrow morning, I'll bring it to the production truck. Tomorrow... the party starts for real.)

 

[Evil James]

Evil James - Local News Station Interview #2

04/24/08
11 pm

Channel 13 Action News Interview live at 11 pm!

[In the television studio, Evil James is in a sit down interview with anchor Joel Jones. This is James' sixth interview in just a few hours and already he's getting antsy even before it begins.]

Jones: Welcome to the studio Mr. Varga.

Evil James: Thank you for having me. And it's Evil James.

Jones: There is an event called Wrestlestock 2 coming up and you're taking part in this thing. Tell us about it?

[Evil James smiles coyly.]

Evil James: There's not too much to say. I'm new to the NFW scene and not too many people are picking me to win the match that I'm in. In fact, I'm going in as a huge underdog. I'm not one of the favorites and I'm not picked by anyone to win. That is my mission. To earn the respect of everyone in this match whether they like me or they don't. That's all I care about.

Jones: And what match are you in exactly?

Evil James: I'm in the NFW Television Championship Royale. There's twenty four other wrestlers in it. And I already know that I'm coming in at number five.

Jones: So that means you'll have to stay in longer to win?

[Evil James nods his head.]

Evil James: That is correct. I will have to be in there at least forty minutes to win this thing. Probably more along the lines of forty-five to fifty minutes.

Jones: Is there anyone in the match who you would like to talk about?

Evil James: Well yes. First is Joe the Plumber. He's the champion going in. The guy has an ego problem. He thinks that no one else in this match can beat him. I think not. No one is unbeatable, even the greats. Anyone can be beat at any time and it's his time to lose.

Jones: Anyone else you would like to talk about?

Evil James: Well Impulse is a guy who I think will give me some problems. But me and him both have the same problem. We drew low numbers so we both are going to have to work extra hard to stay in until the end.

Jones: I hear that the mysterious Hunchblack creature is going to be in the match. Any thoughts on him?

Evil James: I prefer not to think about him. Gives me nightmares.

Jones: Interesting. And what do you think about what would happen if you did in fact win the NFW TV Championship belt?

Evil James: Well that's an interesting question. No one there knows too much about me. It's my first NFW match and they are probably looking aat me saying 'Wow, this guy's a beast.' Well the champ, the Plumber, was saying he was a beast too. But how do you kill a beast? You either shoot it with a rifle or you send another beast to take it out. I am that other beast. And the Plumber is going to fall.

Jones: Wow. So you're saying you're going to take out the champ for them?

Evil James: You said it exactly.

[Evil James smiles deviously.]

Jones: I'm sure that'll send some shockwaves through the NFW when they hear that.

Evil James: I hope so.

Jones: Now what about the rumors of the FBI being onto you about the Church of the Unholy or something like that?

[Evil James glares at Jones menacingly.]

Evil James: Don't mention the FBI in my presence again. Next question.

Jones: You're a part of GCW, correct?

Evil James: Correct.

Jones: What do you think about working there under Caldera?

Evil James: Well it's fun. I haven't had fun in a long time. However, I am in a tag team called the Church of the Unholy and my partner and I are looking to get those GCW Tag Team Championship belts around our waists.

Jones: So it sounds like you have a lot on your plate.

Evil James: I do.

Jones: One last question. What happens if Evil James wins the NFW TV Championship belt at Wrestlestock?

Evil James: I honestly don't know, but it'll be exciting and probably a little bit frightening as well. Hail Tioneb and thank you for your time.

[Evil James shakes Jones' hand.]

Jones: Wrestlestock coming live to PPV soon! We'll be back after this commercial break!

[Scene fades out.]

Cut

 

[renner]

Telethon, Part III

The city of Beefville: City of the Annoyed was fairly average in size, were it a real place. It also had fairly low amount of actual, unique landmarks. Except that City Hall looked like a temple and probably even had traps on a Temple of Doom caliber. We don't know, though, because we won't ever see City Hall during the Steve Knox For Television Champion Telethon.

Maybe.

Either way, the scene opened up in the Job Studio, where the telethon was being filmed. The middle of the studio had changed significantly, almost into a mock classroom. There was a large, free-standing chalkboard, with a desk over to its right side. Several apples and papers lined up neatly on the desk. In front of these items were more desks, although these were the types of desks that high school students would sit in.

There were seven students sitting in the mock classroom.

Beef and El Janito, the two dumber members of the tandem known as Mega Job, were seated in the back. Both of them wore white dress shirts and gray slacks, almost like they were in school uniform. To top that off, Alexandria Malone was also in a school uniform-like outfit, consisting of a blue vest and skirt, a white shirt underneath, blue knee-high socks, and brown shows. She seemed to be annoyed with this, but was playing along with the scenario because she thought it could be fun in the end.

There were also a couple of newcomers to the Steve knox For Television Champion Telethon. One was an angry-looking man with short, spiky black hair who was also dressed like Beef and El Janito. From the scruffiness of his outfit, it was likely that he was made to wear it against his will. The other man was wearing facepaint and had a blonde mohawk while still wearing the same uniform, and looked for all the world like a delinquent. In fact, it was either a miracle that he ended up here on time, or perhaps he was so geographically confused that he wound up in a city that, itself, was geographically confused.

Another stranger was a young girl, slightly younger than Alexandria Malone herself, with brown hair that was covering one of her eyes. She, too, wore a school uniform, but hers lacked a vest and had a red ribbon in front, as well as an odd red armband around her left arm. She wore a yellow ribbon arranged like a headband, a blue skirt, blue knee socks, and brown shoes. The last person a silly-looking man with black hair who was wearing a Burger King crown and a robe over the school uniform he had on.

These four people were, respectfully, Adam Nowell and Aaron Fetzer (2/3rds of the Fellowship Champions of Ringside Wrestling), Miranda O'Reily (the manager of PRIME's Princes of New England), and Eddie Scott Poser (the King of Poland, allegedly).

Standing by the chalk board was Steve Knox, who was, for some reason dressed in a white lab coat, a white dress shirt with a red tie, and black slacks. He wore glasses, even though he doesn't need them, and he had a pencil stuck behind his ear. Today, he was a teacher. And he had a class to teach.

STEVE KNOX: Alright, class. Open your books to page four twenty, and we'll get started.

There was an awkward pause, and then the sound of the shuffling of book pages.

Adam Nowell raised his hand.

STEVE KNOX: Yes, Adam?

ADAM NOWELL: How in the damn of Mary Poppins' frickin' umbrella did I wind up here?

STEVE KNOX: Your existence was existentially exiled into an educational enviroment for the ends of entertainment.

ADAM NOWELL: ......What?

STEVE KNOX: Now that I've answered your question, is everyone to the page in question?

Nowell muttered something about how the answer didn't answer anything at all, but Janito raised his hand.

EL JANITO: Some of us don't have books.

BEEF: Some of us don't even know what books are.

El Janito and Beef turned to Eddie Scott Poser, who had already stuck part of the book in his mouth. Upon seeing the glares in his direction, he took the book out of his mouth and he returned to glare to everyone staring at him.

EDDIE SCOTT POSER: We don't have these in Poland.

Everyone, wisely, chose to ignore Eddie from the rest of this telethon.

Meanwhile, Steve noticed that one of the people missing a book was Miranda, so he casually walked to El Janito, took the book from him, and gave it to her before he returned to his position. El Janito raised his hand frantically, but he went ignored as well.

STEVE KNOX: Alright. Today's lesson is, of course, why I'm going to win the Television Title. Now, this is not a complex lesson, but it WILL be on the test.

AARON FETZER: Dammit!

He threw down a pencil.

AARON FETZER: Nobody said anything about a test!

STEVE KNOX: Better pick up your pencil and take notes, then.

Fetzer sighed, and went to do that. As he did so, Steve continued onwards.

STEVE KNOX: Now, it's a well-known fact that I am, in simple enough terms, awesome. But regardless of how awesome I am, I still have to take down at least twenty-four other guys, and I think a couple of girls, in order to win. It doesn't matter if I cut twenty thousand promos in response to someone breathing the wrong way, or whether or not I can change the pipes, or whether or not I'm hunchbacked, or a midget, or possibly all of these combined into some... plumbing hunchbacked midget troll. The fact remains that I'm in there, I gotta fight just the same as the rest of them. The only difference, though, is one thing: I, by far, eclipse the rest of them. Like, if you're enjoying a nice sunlight by the pool, and then suddenly, there's nothing but darkness because a big fat guy jumped into the pool... well, that's what it's like.

Beef raised his hand.

STEVE KNOX: I'm not gonna like you, am I?

BEEF: Does that make you the fat guy?

Steve responded by simply picking up one of the erasers from the nearby chalkboard and lobbing it at Beef's head, where it exploded in a cloud of chalk. Beef choked in the cloud and fell onto the floor in a fetal position. He was done for the day. Both Miranda and Alexandria were somewhat grateful that he was in no position to try to look up their skirts, as well.

STEVE KNOX: Any INTELLIGENT questions?

Silence.

STEVE KNOX: Anyway. It occured to me that I, Steve Knox, am still entirely too amazing to be beaten even if I were to divulge my weaknesses. So, I've decided that I need to divulge a little further. I want you guys to know what I use to end matches with. I want you to know because in a few days' time, I'll be doing stuff like this left and right in my attempts to destroy everything and everybody that stands between me and the NFW Television Title. Therefore, I'll need a willing volunteer.

EL JANITO: I know this will end painfully, so I won't raise my hand.

Steve pointed at El Janito.

STEVE KNOX: Janito, please come to the front of the classroom.

EL JANITO: Aw, dangit.

Janito sighed and walked to the front, next to Steve. Steve smiled and placed a hand on top of Janito's head.

STEVE KNOX: Now I, Steve Knox, have two moves I consider as "checkmate". The first I will demonstrate is called the "Gold Rush", which I will demonstrate on Janito here.

EL JANITO: I'm definitely not liking this.

STEVE KNOX: Oh, you'll be fine, just suck it up and it'll be over before you know it.

Janito had a worried look on his face as he turned to face Steve Knox, who was now walking away from Janito.

EL JANITO: That's what I'm afraid of.

Janito wondered why Steve Knox didn't respond. He was about to find out, as Steve suddenly bolted forward, straight for Janito. He then whipped his arm out and smashed Janito across the face and neck area with a murderous lariat, which caused Janito to actually do something that resembled a "moonsault oversell", landing rather painfully on his face and upper chest by the end of it. Steve looked down at Janito's corpse and then smiled for the camera.

STEVE KNOX: It's a lariat, obviously. Now, if you're smart and see me coming, you'll duck this. But see, I'm too awesome to see coming. If you're lucky, you might catch a glimpse of my arm annihilating you before you are, in fact, annihilated. Like Janito here.

Steve gestured at Janito's corpse, which was groaning very much like Janito would groan. Like the whiny Hispanic he was.

STEVE KNOX: I've won half my titles with the Gold Rush. But the other half... that's what the Gold Standard is for.

AARON FETZER: Maaaan. What the hell's a Gold Standard?

STEVE KNOX: Come up here. I'll show you.

Aaron shrugged, and looked at Adam.

ADAM NOWELL: Do it. I'll enjoy it.

With Adam's "encouragement", Aaron walked up to Steve Knox, who quietly got behind Aaron. He turned to look at the rest of the class.

STEVE KNOX: The Gold Standard is a submission hold. It goes a little something like...

And with a quick movement, Steve hooked one of Aaron's arms behind his back and looped the grabbing arm around to the back of the shoulder. Simultaneously, Steve wrapped his other arm across Aaron's neck and chin and locked his hands together to complete a crossface chickenwing. Aaron commenced the screaming and the suffering, while Steve simply looked like he had the hold only casually applied.

STEVE KNOX: ...this.

Steve smiled as Aaron suffered. He was already signalling to some invisible referee that he was giving up.

STEVE KNOX: Now, this hold has gotten me a lot of wins, and I got a trick to it that I would show you if I wasn't concerned about getting arrested for homiciding poor Aaron here. Of course, I can always do this...

Steve casually lifted Aaron off the ground using only his head and arm, which of course just magnified his pain and suffering a little bit more. Okay, by a lot. Details.

STEVE KNOX: ...but you know, it's just not the same.

Steve let go of the hold while Aaron was kicking his legs out in an attempt to get himself out of the hold, which had the effect of causing Aaron to collide with the ground using the back of his head. Aaron popped up quickly.

AARON FETZER: I'm alright! I'm alright I'm al...

And then Adam Nowell stuck his foot out, causing Aaron to trip and fall over. He was done for the day, and Nowell can only smirk to himself at that.

STEVE KNOX: Now, obviously, I'm not gonna just "let go" of the hold when I get it on somebody in this match. When this hold is put on somebody, I promise you, the only way I'm letting go is if you tap out or you decide to pass out. Or you get saved. But let's face it, nobody's smart enough to try to take me out of the match, they all just attack rather indiscriminately. Even though I am awesome, amazing, and... amazisome. Or maybe aweazing, but that just doesn't sound right to me. The point is, though, that twenty-three guys and a woman are gonna be tossed out left and right by me. Nobody will be safe. Gold Rushes will be eaten as freely like that Uganda guy at an all-you-can-eat-buffet. Gold Standards will be locked on like the locks on an obsessive-compulsive's door.

At this point, Miranda felt it wise to speak up.

MIRANDA O'REILY: Steve, why did you need any of us?

STEVE KNOX: Well, uh. You're cute, so I had to invite you.

MIRANDA O'REILY: You know that my brother is so utterly irresponsible that if I'm not watching him for a long period of time, he'd be either hanging upside down, on fire, or both. And... I also didn't know this city even existed.

STEVE KNOX: It doesn't.

MIRANDA O'REILY: Then how are we in it?

STEVE KNOX: Don't try to battle this with logic, Miranda. It's just not gonna work.

Miranda shrugged and just let it be. Steve looked towards the rest of the class, and the camera as well.

STEVE KNOX: Anyway. Here at the Telethon, we've done our best to make sure we have a fair and amazing match. Mostly involving me winning the Television title. I mean, that's what this Telethon's all about, right?

ALEXANDRIA MALONE: I suppose. Though I don't know why I had to dress up like this.

STEVE KNOX: Nobody said you had to.

Alexandria gave a dirty look to Miranda, who only smiled in her direction, before Alex turned back to Steve, muttering something about how Miranda lied to her.

Steve smiled and pointed at the chalkboard. On the chalkboard were a series of crude drawings, mostly of stick figurish-looking people beating up other stick figurish-looking people. So crude were they that the artist had to actually label the attackers as "Steve Knox" and the victims as, alternatively, "Joe the Plumber", "James Varga", "almasyDEATH", and "Hunchblack". The Varga stick figure was trapped in a stick figure Gold Standard, the almasyDEATH stick figure was being annihilated by a Gold Rush, and in the last picture, the Hunchblack stick figure was actually being used as a club to ward off a plunger-wielded Joe the Plumber stick figure. I don't know how that would work, either.

STEVE KNOX: Now, I don't know how many more times I can really say the same thing, but I will say this... NFW wants me as Television champion. Dangit, NFW probably NEEDS me as Television champion. So, I encourage everyone to lend me your support in order to make this dream become a reality. Thank you.

ADAM NOWELL: Wait. That's it? You somehow bent time and space to get us here just to deliver some message about how you want to be Television champion at a promotion that most of us don't even work for?

STEVE KNOX: I guess?

ADAM NOWELL: Fine. Screw it. I'm gonna leave.

And then Nowell just walked out of the scene, without too much fanfare. Seconds later, he came back and grabbed Fetzer by his mohawk before dragging him away as well. Miranda got up as well, smoothing out her skirt as she did so.

MIRANDA O'REILY: I should get back, too. I'll see you around, Steve.

Miranda turned and walked away, with Steve lightly holding up his hand even if Miranda couldn't see it.

STEVE KNOX: Yeah. See you around.

Steve recomposed himself as Alexandria smiled in amusement at him. He looked at the camera.

STEVE KNOX: That's all, folks. We'll be back on later to conduct interviews with the fans here in Beefville: City of the Annoyed. If it exists long enough for us to do this, anyway.

Static.

And yes, in the end, Eddie Scott Poser was still ignored by everyone.

 

[Evil James]

Psycho Stalker Woman, Part 1

Then...

From: Amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 9:10 PM
ok cutie

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 9:05 PM

ok
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 9:02 PM

cool with me and ill text you back ok.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:56 PM

cool with me
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:52 PM

thats cool and i like summer to and can i text you back on my cell phone if thats ok.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:42 PM

yes i do
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:41 PM

i like that season to and do you like summer
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:31 PM

autumn
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:26 PM

thats cool and christmas is my frist holiday and whats your favorite season.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:19 PM

yes, its my second favorite
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:12 PM

thats cool and i like halloween and do you like christmas
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:01 PM

halloween
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 8:00 PM

thats cool and whats your favorite holiday
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:52 PM

mad max 2: road warrior and they live
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:50 PM

i like bbq lays to and whats your favorite movie.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:33 PM

bbq lays
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:31 PM

my favorite food is chinese and whats your favorite chips.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:18 PM

chinese food. whats yours?
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:17 PM

thats cool and i like tony stewart too and whats your favorite food?
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:13 PM

tony stewart
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:08 PM

im on the computer and whats your favorite nascar driver
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:06 PM

just on the computer. you?
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:02 PM

that sound good and what are you doing.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 7:00 PM

better than yesterday
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 6:57 PM

im doing good and how do you feel
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 8, 2008 6:52 PM

pretty good, how about you?
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 8, 2008 6:50 PM

how have you been doing today?

Now...

Evil James thought he was rid of the "psycho" but then she tried to contact him again a few days ago. That's when it all started again.

The 'Psycho Movie Theme' begins playing as she tries to contact him again. However, Evil James ignores it.

Five minutes later, that same theme plays on his phone again.

Two minutes later, she text messages him again.

Evil James ignores it, thinking it all will stop.

However, five more minutes later, she texts him again. Two minutes later, another phone call.

Evil James sighs as he hears that familiar theme song playing again.

"First the FBI and now this **** starts up again," he mutters under his breath as he looks down at his phone.

He decides not to answer it, which he thinks is his only escape from this madness of neverending questions.

He knows he has to be in tip top condition both mentally and physically for the TV Title Royale in the NFW.

But this will kill him mentally.

This is the last thing he needed going into a big title match.

"****ing psycho women," he mutters to himself. "Why can't the FBI arrest that ***** instead of harassing me?"

Just then the 'Psycho Movie Theme' begins playing from his phone again.

He sighs and decides to turn his phone off before getting on his computer and messing around with his friends on Myspace.

In other words, the norm. That should get him back in the right frame of mind.

But then he remembers that she knows his Myspace and the sudden realization that he has no escape from the ***** dampens his spirits once again.

Cut.

 

[Evil James]

Evil James - The First Annual Evil James Myspace Comment Gross-out Contest

The First Annual Evil James Myspace Comment Gross Out Contest

Round 1:
A-Rod's Comment -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4UYkV_4Kbs

Evil James' Comment -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncecwD3xRWc

Both survived without puking.

Round 2:

A-Rod's Comment -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDRgMcU9elE

Evil James' Comment -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zw0oV7m3rjk

No barfing on either side.

Round 3:

A-Rod's Comment -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Yfyw2gIcyo

Evil James' Comment -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=il27W5fEQlk

Both survived without puking.

Round 4:

A-Rod's Comment -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlhIlWu2JWI

Evil James' Comment -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lK-0wfHutk

Both survived vids without hurling.

Round 5:

A-Rod's Comment -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mq7kOiM48Cw

Evil James' Comment -
http://www. 2girls1cup. com/index. php

At this point A-Rod conceides defeat.

Winner: Evil James

---------

The running commentary of the contest...

TionebCOTU (10:02:15 PM): that was sort of a weird answer
FatSunny86 (10:02:22 PM): haha
FatSunny86 (10:03:01 PM): what kind of "weird"?
TionebCOTU (10:03:19 PM): the weird as in "wtf the kind of answer is that?" weird
FatSunny86 (10:03:25 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (10:03:50 PM): so, it's like she didn't want me to say that?
FatSunny86 (10:07:02 PM): that's a real ***** lol
TionebCOTU (10:07:10 PM): i know
TionebCOTU (10:07:16 PM): i think she might be delusional
FatSunny86 (10:07:48 PM): No, we were also talking about how sometimes people can think they don't look so good.
FatSunny86 (10:08:00 PM): so she was explaining that sometimes she does look good.
TionebCOTU (10:08:21 PM): maybe she's a two face
FatSunny86 (10:08:26 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (10:08:28 PM): sometimes she looks good, sometimes not
FatSunny86 (10:08:48 PM): somedays I look better than other days
TionebCOTU (10:09:01 PM): seinfeld knows all
FatSunny86 (10:09:06 PM): haha
FatSunny86 (10:09:13 PM): I know what you mean :-D
FatSunny86 (10:09:25 PM): depends on where she is sitting.
FatSunny86 (10:11:04 PM): I'm gonna send you a comment, and you're going to mark out
TionebCOTU (10:11:57 PM): lol, cant wait for it
FatSunny86 (10:14:37 PM): It's sent
TionebCOTU (10:14:43 PM): i saw it, lmfao
TionebCOTU (10:14:49 PM): i'll find a funny one to reply
FatSunny86 (10:14:57 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (10:16:20 PM): you'll like it
FatSunny86 (10:16:29 PM): awesome
TionebCOTU (10:18:47 PM): posted
TionebCOTU (10:19:41 PM): my reply comment that is
FatSunny86 (10:19:48 PM): I see it now lol
TionebCOTU (10:19:58 PM): just watch and enjoy
FatSunny86 (10:20:41 PM): haha
TionebCOTU (10:20:51 PM): lol, i love that vid
FatSunny86 (10:20:57 PM): I had over 2,000 microsoft points!!!
TionebCOTU (10:21:05 PM): it gets even better
FatSunny86 (10:21:22 PM): what about getting a wii lol
FatSunny86 (10:21:36 PM): lmao
TionebCOTU (10:21:46 PM): it rules
FatSunny86 (10:22:41 PM): this is ****ing hialrious
TionebCOTU (10:22:55 PM): i know it is
FatSunny86 (10:23:14 PM): don't worry, he's not that desperate
TionebCOTU (10:23:33 PM): i found the actual clip from the movie right now, lol
FatSunny86 (10:23:43 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (10:23:53 PM): that was great
TionebCOTU (10:23:57 PM): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9BEx43o2Cxg&NR=1
FatSunny86 (10:28:13 PM): I sent you another video haha
TionebCOTU (10:28:44 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (10:30:04 PM): it's the blind guy from Star Trek: The Next Generation!!!!
FatSunny86 (10:30:14 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (10:30:41 PM): wasnt his name geordie?
FatSunny86 (10:30:53 PM): no clue, did not watch star trek
TionebCOTU (10:31:10 PM): lol, it is
FatSunny86 (10:31:16 PM): oh okay lol
TionebCOTU (10:32:38 PM): dude, he's helping kermit seduce miss piggy, lmfao
FatSunny86 (10:32:48 PM): lmao, I know!
FatSunny86 (10:32:54 PM): which is why I sent it
TionebCOTU (10:36:18 PM): reply comment sent
FatSunny86 (10:36:24 PM): okay
FatSunny86 (10:37:35 PM): what the **** is this lol
TionebCOTU (10:37:45 PM): mad max 2: road warrior
FatSunny86 (10:37:54 PM): ic
TionebCOTU (10:38:10 PM): lord humungous is trying to coax out the good people to get their oil, lol
FatSunny86 (10:38:10 PM): THIS WAS ON SOUTHPARK!
TionebCOTU (10:38:29 PM): Give us the oil and we will spare your lives!
FatSunny86 (10:38:48 PM): did you remember this on south park? Butters was acting like the guy with the mask
FatSunny86 (10:39:03 PM): it was the sex ed episode I think
FatSunny86 (10:39:19 PM): OH that thing just went into her head!
TionebCOTU (10:39:25 PM): that was a dude, lol
FatSunny86 (10:39:39 PM): oh, haha
FatSunny86 (10:39:44 PM): THAT THING WENT THROUGH HIS FINGERS!
TionebCOTU (10:39:50 PM): it was his he-***** man slave
FatSunny86 (10:39:51 PM): boomerang
TionebCOTU (10:39:57 PM): isnt that scene great? lol
FatSunny86 (10:40:02 PM): haha, yes
FatSunny86 (10:40:56 PM): this is ****ed up lol
FatSunny86 (10:41:45 PM): haha, butters was saying the same thing "Just walk away, Just walk away"
TionebCOTU (10:41:49 PM): i know
TionebCOTU (10:41:56 PM): it being ****ed up is why it rules all, lol
FatSunny86 (10:42:03 PM): lol indeed
TionebCOTU (10:42:33 PM): i LOVE that movie
TionebCOTU (10:42:36 PM): best movie ever made
TionebCOTU (10:42:40 PM): i highly recomment
TionebCOTU (10:42:44 PM): *recommend
FatSunny86 (10:43:42 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (10:44:04 PM): going to add some vids from it to my page
FatSunny86 (10:44:18 PM): lol cool
TionebCOTU (10:44:29 PM): found the road chase scene from it too
FatSunny86 (10:44:38 PM): awesome
TionebCOTU (10:45:01 PM): thats an awesome scene too
FatSunny86 (10:45:12 PM): never seen the movie
TionebCOTU (10:45:37 PM): see it
TionebCOTU (10:45:41 PM): i COMMAND you, lmfao
FatSunny86 (10:45:50 PM): fiiiine Tioneb
FatSunny86 (10:46:08 PM): gave you another movie
TionebCOTU (10:46:40 PM): ok, i'll check it out
FatSunny86 (10:46:47 PM): hehe
TionebCOTU (10:47:29 PM): thar she blows!
TionebCOTU (10:47:45 PM): Scotty in Star Trek IV: Sir, there be whales here!!!!
FatSunny86 (10:47:52 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (10:48:40 PM): this looks like people i see on the streets in vegas, lol
FatSunny86 (10:48:47 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (10:49:06 PM): omfg
TionebCOTU (10:49:10 PM): this is AWESOME
TionebCOTU (10:49:28 PM): marking out
FatSunny86 (10:49:34 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (10:52:34 PM): reply comment sent
FatSunny86 (10:53:18 PM): awesome
TionebCOTU (10:53:37 PM): that road chase scene from the movie
FatSunny86 (10:53:45 PM): haha, awesome
TionebCOTU (10:54:05 PM): or part of it, not the whole thing
FatSunny86 (10:54:29 PM): ...You're going to kill me
TionebCOTU (10:54:38 PM): how?
FatSunny86 (10:57:33 PM): lol, look, and see
TionebCOTU (10:58:22 PM): WTF was that?!
TionebCOTU (10:58:25 PM): A planet?!
FatSunny86 (10:58:28 PM): lmfao!
FatSunny86 (10:58:41 PM): the disgusting war begins!
TionebCOTU (10:59:56 PM): prepare to be disgusted
TionebCOTU (11:00:02 PM): check your comments, heh heh heh
FatSunny86 (11:01:07 PM): lol fine
TionebCOTU (11:02:25 PM): you disgusted yet? lol
FatSunny86 (11:02:34 PM): I'm writing something right now lol
FatSunny86 (11:02:37 PM): haven't looked
TionebCOTU (11:02:54 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (11:02:57 PM): look...
TionebCOTU (11:03:00 PM): and the puke, lol
FatSunny86 (11:03:41 PM): lol I will now
TionebCOTU (11:03:56 PM): excellent
FatSunny86 (11:04:12 PM): :-$ so that alien baby story WAS true!
FatSunny86 (11:04:29 PM): my god
TionebCOTU (11:04:33 PM): lmfao
FatSunny86 (11:05:26 PM): I am so getting you back now
TionebCOTU (11:05:32 PM): lmfao
TionebCOTU (11:05:38 PM): am i good? lol
FatSunny86 (11:05:45 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (11:06:38 PM): im reading my promo again, its hilarious, lol
FatSunny86 (11:06:46 PM): I replied
TionebCOTU (11:07:27 PM): it has a tail!!!!
FatSunny86 (11:07:36 PM): I WIN!
FatSunny86 (11:07:37 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (11:07:53 PM): that chick was all like "WTF is that? lol
FatSunny86 (11:07:59 PM): lol I know
TionebCOTU (11:12:54 PM): found a suitable reply vid, lol
FatSunny86 (11:13:29 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (11:13:30 PM): oh no
TionebCOTU (11:13:43 PM): oh yes
FatSunny86 (11:13:55 PM): OH GOD NO!
FatSunny86 (11:14:03 PM): no! no! no!
TionebCOTU (11:14:05 PM): who wins? lol
FatSunny86 (11:14:11 PM): I will win, I promise you that!
TionebCOTU (11:14:20 PM): oh we'll see about that
FatSunny86 (11:14:35 PM): WHAT THE **** IS THIS! LMFAO!
FatSunny86 (11:14:47 PM): *pukes*
FatSunny86 (11:15:20 PM): I seriously am going to puke now...
TionebCOTU (11:16:11 PM): i win
FatSunny86 (11:16:17 PM): no
FatSunny86 (11:16:23 PM): I am looking for something now...
TionebCOTU (11:16:25 PM): you puke i win
FatSunny86 (11:17:08 PM): I didn ot puke
FatSunny86 (11:17:49 PM): You have to watch all of what I just posted
TionebCOTU (11:19:49 PM): dude, i live in vegas
TionebCOTU (11:19:54 PM): there are homos everywhere lol
FatSunny86 (11:20:17 PM): haha
TionebCOTU (11:20:23 PM): halfway done
FatSunny86 (11:20:24 PM): well, do they kiss infront of you?
TionebCOTU (11:20:32 PM): sometimes on the streets, lol
FatSunny86 (11:20:40 PM): well, damnit
TionebCOTU (11:20:45 PM): i'll get you to puke as soon as the vid is done
TionebCOTU (11:20:46 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (11:20:50 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (11:22:26 PM): i survived
FatSunny86 (11:26:14 PM): send it yet?
TionebCOTU (11:26:53 PM): yes
FatSunny86 (11:26:58 PM): ok then
TionebCOTU (11:27:28 PM): check it out
FatSunny86 (11:27:53 PM): okay then
FatSunny86 (11:29:49 PM): hahaha
FatSunny86 (11:29:54 PM): I did that a lot when I was younger.
TionebCOTU (11:29:58 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (11:30:17 PM): gosh, that's ****ed up
FatSunny86 (11:30:29 PM): *shudders*
TionebCOTU (11:30:44 PM): that was gross, lol
FatSunny86 (11:30:58 PM): I am going to get you to puke now
TionebCOTU (11:31:05 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (11:31:13 PM): it's up
TionebCOTU (11:32:11 PM): its n'sync
FatSunny86 (11:32:14 PM): yes it is.
TionebCOTU (11:32:18 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (11:32:29 PM): You now have an N Sync song on your myspace
TionebCOTU (11:32:38 PM): how will this make me puke? do they like **** each other or something? lol
FatSunny86 (11:32:46 PM): Nope, they sing.
TionebCOTU (11:33:40 PM): this song is retarded
FatSunny86 (11:34:20 PM): lol, yes it is
TionebCOTU (11:36:29 PM): reply comment vid posted
FatSunny86 (11:36:33 PM): lol k
TionebCOTU (11:36:39 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (11:37:05 PM): WHAT THE ****!
TionebCOTU (11:37:27 PM): elton john, lol
FatSunny86 (11:38:14 PM): lmao
TionebCOTU (11:38:48 PM): thats worse than n'sync, lol
FatSunny86 (11:38:59 PM): lol yes it is
TionebCOTU (11:40:13 PM): im evil
FatSunny86 (11:40:22 PM): hence the "evil james"
TionebCOTU (11:40:26 PM): lol, yes
FatSunny86 (11:41:30 PM): I know how I can win...
TionebCOTU (11:41:51 PM): how?
FatSunny86 (11:42:02 PM): hold on, I am seeing how gross this actually is...
TionebCOTU (11:42:37 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (11:43:24 PM): oh yea, this is ****ed up...
TionebCOTU (11:44:11 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (11:44:18 PM): posted it
TionebCOTU (11:44:45 PM): lol, cannibalism
FatSunny86 (11:44:52 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (11:45:08 PM): i already saw this on soylent green, lol
FatSunny86 (11:45:17 PM): damnit
TionebCOTU (11:46:07 PM): soylent green is a movie about a recycled food actually being dead people, lol
FatSunny86 (11:46:18 PM): my god!
FatSunny86 (11:46:41 PM): isn't that the movie where they go "it's people! It's people!"
TionebCOTU (11:46:45 PM): yes
FatSunny86 (11:46:50 PM): oic
TionebCOTU (11:46:58 PM): and i have survived so far
TionebCOTU (11:47:01 PM): 2:30 in
FatSunny86 (11:47:10 PM): lol
TionebCOTU (11:47:24 PM): nobody beats darth varga in a gross out game
TionebCOTU (11:47:34 PM): expect something UBER disgusting in my next one, lol
FatSunny86 (11:47:45 PM): lol
FatSunny86 (11:47:55 PM): I just found something for next time
FatSunny86 (11:50:58 PM): MY GOD!
FatSunny86 (11:51:04 PM): yea, this is going to gross you out
FatSunny86 (11:56:40 PM): since you took so long, I posted mine anyway
TionebCOTU (11:56:50 PM): cant get mine to work
FatSunny86 (11:56:56 PM): ic
Friday, April 25, 2008
TionebCOTU (12:02:37 AM): didnt ouke
TionebCOTU (12:02:40 AM): your turn
TionebCOTU (12:02:53 AM): get on the website and sign up to get it to work
FatSunny86 (12:03:13 AM): naaah
FatSunny86 (12:03:18 AM): I give up, you win
TionebCOTU (12:03:28 AM): i win?
FatSunny86 (12:03:39 AM): Yes, you win
TionebCOTU (12:03:50 AM): lol
TionebCOTU (12:04:02 AM): Dark Lords of the Sith win these kinds of things
FatSunny86 (12:04:18 AM): and appearently, so do you.
TionebCOTU (12:04:23 AM): lol
FatSunny86 (12:04:31 AM): I totally win in the diss department.
TionebCOTU (12:04:49 AM): we rule all
FatSunny86 signed off at 12:23:14 AM

 

[Evil James]

Evil James - Psycho Stalker Woman, Part 2

Then...

ok and goodnight.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 9, 2008 10:50 PM

you too

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 9, 2008 10:40 PM

ok and sweet dreams.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 9, 2008 10:37 PM

ok, cool with me

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 9, 2008 10:34 PM

me either and im going to go to sleep and can i text you tommrrow.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 9, 2008 10:26 PM

dont really like it too much

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 9, 2008 10:23 PM

thats cool and do you like beef ravioli.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 9, 2008 10:14 PM

not really

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 9, 2008 10:13 PM

i dont like spaggite and do you like meat loaf

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 9, 2008 10:06 PM

not really

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 9, 2008 9:57 PM

do you like spagittie

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 9, 2008 9:56 PM

not really

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 9, 2008 9:50 PM

i like only srambled to and do you like beef stew.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 9, 2008 9:41 PM

only scrambled

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 9, 2008 9:34 PM

i like some ceral and do you like eggs

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 9, 2008 9:27 PM

Yeah, some cereals but others I hate

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 9, 2008 9:25 PM

i like apple juice a little bit and do you like ceral.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: James
Date: Apr 9, 2008 9:21 PM

Sort of

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: amy
Date: Apr 9, 2008 9:19 PM

thats cool and i like pizza to and do you like apple juice.


* * *

Now...

It's been a few hours and Evil James has turned off his cellphone for the whole time since the "psycho woman" has been calling and texting him non-stop.

He finally decides it's time to turn his phone back on.

He opens it up and presses the power button. After waiting for a few moments, the phone loads up.

Once this is finished, Evil James looks down and the phone starts vibrating.

As the phone loads up, it says that has fifteen missed text messages, eight missed calls, and three voicemails.

Evil James then starts clicking through his phone's menu and ends up on the missed calls section.

He sighs as he looks down and reads it.

"Psychotic," he mutters as he sees that all the missed calls are from the psycho woman.

He then gets out of that menu and ends up on the text message menu. He then goes into his inbox and sees that all of the messages are from "Psycho."

He sighs again and closes his phone.

"Here I am trying to get ready for one of the biggest matches of my career and I have to put up with this ****ing bull****," he mutters to himself.

"If I lose, I'm blaming it on this ***** for ****ing up my head and getting my mind away from the match."

Evil James then looks across the room and sees a picture of himself on the cover of a wrestling magazine framed on the wall.

That's when he smiles and starts thinking about moments that have taken place in his career.

Many matches he's been in. Many wins, many loses, but one thing is for certain.

This NFW Television Title Royale is going to be a war.

He must be ready.

And no psycho woman is going to get him off his game.

No one will get him off his game.

It's his time to shine now.

He must be ready.

Cut.

 

[Hunchblack]

What follows is a typically woeful extract from the life of our favourite hunchbacked nigga; Hunchblack.​

2008​

Inside a cold and depressing hotel the bitter wind runs through the corridors, cracking the ice cubes in the machine at the end of the hall. The room next to the aforementioned machine is numbered ‘98’. Hanging on the door handle is a very cheaply rendered paper sign reading ‘VIP’. The door opens and out steps a rugged and clumsy looking porter, happily clutching his twenty dollar tip. He closes the door behind him, shivering, before rubbing his hands for warmth and miming “What a freak.”

The room itself is the blandest of the bland. Dirty curtains that I fear were once cream coloured, chewing gum stamped into the carpet by the typically rough and scummy former clientele of the establishment; one such problem that the management wouldn’t have to deal with in room 98. It was booked in the name of a Mr H Unchblack, an ingenious cover for Hunchblack masterminded by his sport management company; Freakwood Associates. His Royal Hunchness sits teetering on the edge of the bed, leaning towards the small television in the top corner next to the window. His hump is snugly housed inside a modified bath robe for the kyphotic gentleman, with the initials ‘H.B.’ cheaply stitched below the shoulder. The bulbous long-nailed fingers of the kyphotic gentleman lethargically push the ‘channel up’ button, his eyes following the skipping half-second lights coming from every channel change... Until one particular channel catches his eye (his good eye).

1998​

It was the dead of winter, snow settled on the ground and roof tops of a seedy and run-down circus camp. In the midst of the quiet desolate area, a small van pulls up to the main building; a small shed-like structure built with rotting wood and stained glass. A large man steps out of the van, his belly rippling in the still, bitter air.

An open-air cage is located just to the right of the main building, a small mal-nourished figure curled up in the corner for warmth. He raised his head up when he heard the approaching footsteps of the man from the van. The cageling in question was, in fact, a young and worldly inexperienced Hunchblack.

The fat van man knocked on the door of the main building, as he glanced to his right at the half naked black man staring back at him with that teary puppy-dog eye (his good eye). But directing his attention back to the door, was the evil and fiendishly handsome ringmaster. He curled his finger around his perfect moustache with glee as he invited the van man in from the cold. He wasn’t just any van man; he was in fact, a plumber. As poor young Hunchblack sat out in the cage, his grand heating system singeing his hump with shame; the ringmaster and the fat plumber had an evil doing afoot.

As Hunchblack slept in the eerie comfort of his heated cage, the plumber sneaked round the back and removed the heater from the back of the cage; leaving a shivering and freakishly pissed off looking Hunchblack very cold indeed. The ringmaster jumped up and down clapping his hands as the plumber affixed the heater to the side of his bedroom.

The cold swept through Hunchblack’s hump like... cold wind. All he had to keep him warm now was his ragged potato sack and his knowledge that one day he would be a professional wrestler... Although he didn’t know that then. Bless his hump.

2008​

Hunchblack is fixated on the image in front of him. It’s an NFW advertisement for Wrestlestock 2, featuring Joe The Plumber. The television controller is shaken from his hand as he gets to his feet and moves closer to the screen. ‘TV Title Royale’ is emblazed across the screen magnificently, the words glittering in Hunchblack’s eye (his good eye). A sly, embittered and then happy grin slowly crawls across the face of the King of Kyphosis.

 

[DWoods]

No foolin’ around this time. No doctor’s office excursions, no smoking imaginary hash with imaginary John Trojan, just straight trash-talk – it’s gonna get ugly.

Oh – and this is a Varga-centric promo because he’s a complete tool who lacks any semblance of talent.

(FADE-IN: To the unfinished, unfurnished basement of Joe the Plumber’s house. The floors are uncarpeted; bare concrete with demented chalk-hieroglyphics drawn throughout – the work of a very, very stoned JTP.

Across the room, Joe throws darts at a child’s mug shot – it looks like something he found on the back of a milk carton and had blown up. Joe, without taking his eyes off the makeshift dartboard, speaks.)

JTP: “Jesus f*ckin’ Christ, Varga, will you stop cutting a promo every fifteen minutes? Every time I try and jerk off the “faggot alarm” goes off and I have to head on over to the ol’ Mac and see what redundant, sleep-inducing bullsh*t you decided to share with us this time. Truth be told, I stopped bothering to even view your promos – Ol’ Joe doesn’t have the time to watch the same sh*t over and over again. I just don’t! I’ve got tenderonis need f*ckin’! I’ve got PCP-dipped joints need smokin’! Clogged sh*tters cryin’ out ma’ name!”

(Joe throws the final dart in his hand, and it... misses its intended target completely. He turns to face the camera.)

JTP: “You wanna hold up a picture of a bug-eyed black man starin’ at his hand? That’s supposed to be me, eh? All right. NO. I don’t givah f*ck who’s said “sucka” – doesn’t matter – I say it now because it accurately describes my opponents. Like you, Varga. You are the definition of “sucka.” Ol’ Joe tried to drop a hint, tried to save ya some time and effort, but you aren’t winning this match. Ya know that crazy f*cker who cut off his dick in that Internet video? If I lost to you, Varga, I’d hafta take it one step further. I’d blend up my severed cock with some vodka and ice cubes, pour it into a dirty glass, and drink ‘er down with about two dozen sleepin’ pills. UGHNN!”

(Joe, with his trademark forearms-in-a-V-shape pose, snarls at the camera, his hot breath absconding through clenched baked bean teeth.)

JTP: “You say you’re the future of the championship Ol’ Joe made famous? Frig ‘affff! Varga, you don’t have a future. I’m gonna dip me ol’ fist in your anus, grab a hold of your vital organs, and start you like a lawnmower. I don’t even givah f*ck if that sounds gay, I’m gonna do it! That’s my fatality, motherf*cker! I rip faggots’ innards out through their ass, and it HURTS. And I won’t stop there. I’ll wrap your large intestine around your neck like a noose and hang you from the top rope until your body goes limp, and then I’ll let ya drop the floor below, eliminating you. You have to worry about death, Varga, you stupid f*ck. You done pissed Ol’ Joe off – you done made the Sucka-Free Bouse angry! That’s... unfortunate for you... but hey! At least I get to have some fun!

You bring up Snoop Dog... All right. Again – NO. See, I can talk like I do because I’ve beast’d everyone to step to me! What the f*ck have you done, sh*thead? I don’t know. I don’t scout my opponents because, and here’s the thing, I don’t hafta. I show up, drunk, stoned, exhausted from f*ckin’ a big girl backstage, and all I wanna do is whoop ass and go home. I never did homework in high school, why would I start now? I did graduate though! Every single time there was a test or an exam, I’d claim to have the runs! Who’s gonna make a little fat kid sit there in class with twenty of his peers, and sh*t his pants? And how’re they gonna prove I don’t? I can sh*t on command. I’ve got my bowels on lock. I treat it well; I try and keep it reasonably clean, and in return, I can sh*t whenever I want. Even if I just went five minutes ago, I could still sh*t. Now, I dunno if it’d necessarily be poop comin’ out; I tried it once, and all I found floatin’ in the toilet afterwards was a thing that looked like half a red onion and blood – lots and lots of blood. And I felt fine! Sure, at first my lower abdomen felt like someone was jabbin’ it with a knife, but a few hours and a bottle of JD later, and everything was peachy keen! Ol’ Joe was right as rain! Back to my original point: I can say whatever the f*ck I want because I muck around in sh*t like you muck around in your gay lover’s semen. You probably look like a six-year-old in art class, slappin’ your hands into the jizz, grinning like a f*ckin’ retard, makin’ a big, ol’ mess!

There’s nothin’ “evil” about you. I’m gonna educate you a little bit. When I said before that you were a herbivore and JTP’s a carnivore, I should `a said you’re a herbivore and JTP’s a cannibal. See, Mamma Plumber was pregnant with not just one but three Plumber children. The ultrasound showed me and two others – Joseph and Joey, as they would have been called. My dear ol’ parents were ecstatic to know they would be having triplets... three boys... but along the way, three weeks shy of ma's due date, something felt... off. My father rushed my mother to the hospital, and the doctors had no other choice but to perform a caesarean section... inside her womb, they found but one infant... hiding beneath a pile of bones, picked clean like a plate of wings at Hooters! I WAS THE SOLE SURVIVOR! I ATE MY BROTHERS! THERE! I SAID IT!”

(Joe hangs his head. It’s difficult to tell whether he’s proud or ashamed of his disturbing confession. Finally, he lifts his head, and we see that a sadistic grin has formed on his profile.)

JTP: “I’m a beast, ma’! I’m a self-centred, greedy, fat beast! Visceral as f*ck! See, Ol’ Joe wanted all the umbilical chord yummies for himself! Plus, who likes sharing their living space? It’s not as though we had bunk beds in there! That f*ckin’ place was cramped! So I took it upon myself to consume their infant flesh! And I’m pretty sure that’s what gave me my strength. I’m not just Joe; I’m Joe, Joseph, and Joey! It’s called synergy!

So, Varga, knowing this... does it not make you want to think twice about stepping into the ring with me? I loved my brothers. I despise you. That’s gotta be unsettling; scary, even.

You can take your thirty-six meaningless championships, melt ‘em all down, and present it as a gift to the god that is Joe the Plumber! You can kneel at my smelly feet and beg – f*ckin’ beg like a withered, old dog – like my Volcano – for forgiveness. BUT I WON’T GIVE YOU SH*T! I am a merciless god!

And you’re damn right we don’t have to worry about you making any “sound bytes” or “smartass quips.” Why? Because even though I’m a lousy, uneducated, drug-addicted plumber with beetle-sized pubic lice crawlin’ in and out of my brains, I am still a better talker than you are! Everything you say comes out awkward and forced. You aren’t real. I am real. If it comes from Ol’ Joe’s mouth, you can be damn sure it’s genuine.

In summation (hey, it popped up in Ol’ Joe’s word-of-the-day calendar), I’m invincible, and you’re a scrub. You’re basically my plunger in human form: caked with sh*t, smellin’ like sh*t, and otherwise worthless if not being throttled by the hands of Joe the Plumber. I’m`a dunk you in the sh*t-brown waters in the toilet of wrestling obscurity from which you came, bringing you up just long enough to suck in a breath and think maybe – just maybe – you might be spared, before submerging you for good! Now, beat it, young man! UGHNN!”

(FTB)

 

[Evil James]

Evil James - Translation Help Needed

To the fine people of the NFW Fan Base,

Hello. It is I, Evil James yet again. I know I've been on your televisions a lot here lately, but I have a dilema. After watching Joe the Plumber's latest promo, Evil James has no idea what sort of retard dialect the champion was speaking in, so he looked up the live video version of it and is still confused. So maybe the fans can help him figure out exactly what the hell Joe the Plumber was talking about. Here is the live video of Joe the Plumber's latest promo.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=357o0kPWGFc

If you can be of any help translating, please call 1-800-Evil James. Thank You.

-Evil James-

P.S. Any help will be greatly appreciated. See, I don't speak retard so I have no clue what the hell Joe was talking about. So anyone who can understand him, contact me ASAP. Thanks!

 

[DWoods]

Dear James Varga,

Eat a dick.

Love,

The Guy Who Will Be Sending Your Unwanted, Untalented B*tch-Ass Packin'

P.S. Even those who've no-showed thus far have played a more significant role than you have.

P.S. II. Varga's a racist, and he sniffs the bike seats of little boys.

^.^

 

[Evil James]

Dear Joe the Plumber,

Go unclog the **** that's clogged my toilet.

Sincerely,

Evil James

P.S. There's a a little think called Kayfabe. I think you should look into it.

P.P.S. Joe the Plumber speaks in jive. I'm watching Airplane now to see what the **** this guy is saying.

 

[User Poets]

Dear James Varga,

Eat a dick.

Love,

The Guy Who Will Be Sending Your Unwanted, Untalented B*tch-Ass Packin'

P.S. Even those who've no-showed thus far have played a more significant role than you have.

P.S. II. Varga's a racist, and he sniffs the bike seats of little boys.

^.^

I have such guy love for you right now.

 

[Evil James]

I have such guy love for you right now.

Isn't it SO wonderful when males show their guy love pride for each other. Fortunately, there was a cameraman present and he took a wonderful picture of this guy love for the newspapers about the event. Enjoy.

http://mathiasmegy.blog.lemonde.fr/files/gay_pride_2006_165.thumbnail.jpg

 

[Cimon]

Graduation Day.

Graduation Day.

Craig Miles' Professional Heel Academy.

Despite all the unimaginable and, you know, frankly unmentionable things I did to get here. I can't say I felt one way or another about graduating. People at the school flapping their gums about my "natural talent and drive" just don't get that I came here on a gamble. Things could've turned out one way or another way, I probably would've just ended up doing what I'm doing now.

Getting stoned in the parking lot.

*DINK*

"F-ck!"

The passenger side window made that "Cop knocking with his nightstick" sound. Freaked me the hell out. Who walks up to a car and knocks on it like that? I knew what kind of person did that so When I saw who it was, I wasn't so much surprised as instantly bummed. I think I said something like "Oh no". This was the kind of dude that will totally ruin a hotbox. I knew him from before. He's been watching all my matches.

"Hey." he whispered. "Hey man, can I come in, uh, brah? I-..I, uh, I don't..."

"Nah, dude. Come back later, dude. I'm, like uh...busy."

"Right, right, man...I can totally see that, it's just I have to ask you about something really-really quick and if it's not cool or whatever I'll leave you alone to, uh, smoke up?, in peace."

Really stoned. I think I mumbled something about fu-king up my hot box. I didn't even feel like dealing with unlocking doors and rolling down windows and sh*t why can't he just, like, leave?

"Hey, bro? Can you just wait a second? Ok? Just wait, like, sit down right there on the curb and I'll come out in a sec."

Ten minutes later I made my grand appearance in a plume of smoke. "Alright so what's up?"

"Finally," the man said standing up. "Dude-man, bro, I just wanted to say that I've been watching you and Craig Miles was right to let you in."

Great. Awesome. Just what I needed. "Dude, stop talking like that, first. And second, are you even gonna tell me your name or is it like, a secret?"

He held out his hand. "Mark Mehrman, Legacy PR & Management. Representation for Actors, Singers, Athletes, and Entertainers of all walks of life."

I just stared at his hand. "Oh. A Jew." I shook his hand. "Cool."

When it obvious I didn't mean anything by the jew comment, he went on..."Right so, basically, I want to offer to be your manager. On-screen, off-screen, whatever. I hear you're looking for a fast track and I'm it. I've got my hands in anything and everything."

"Alright so..." I thought about this. I mean, this was kind of the reason I came to this school and started wrestling. "I heard you say, "actors". I'm an actor. Comedian too."

"Oh I know man! I know! I did my homework. That's why I'm here. I can have a title belt around your waist in 2 months. Wrestling in many top-tier federations and then you know what's next?"

"Well, I hope maybe a couple movie roles..?" That's what all of this is really about for me, anyway.

"BIG MONEY. We fast track you to a world title belt; get your face out there on screen using your natural talents. Then we're talkin' movie roles, book deals, rub downs from super models and rubbing in the faces of all those people who doubted you."

And Holy sh*t. Music. I could hear it. He talked fast, but he was makin' me actually *see* it, too. As you can probably guess by my dilapidated stoner-state...there were a lot of people who doubted me.

"Alright. So do I, like, sign something or how do we do this?"