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Gant/Rage vs Styles/Matthews




"Hmmmm... tough shot. Hey, Pedro! Nine-iron."

We fade in to an unlikely setting: A golf course somewhere in Spain. It appears to be around noon, and the weather is certainly good despite a few dark clouds lurking on the horizon. Standing on the fairway is none other than Dean Matthews, the self-styled Show Stealer. He is clad in a rather interesting outfit - a green turtleneck sweater, grey and white checkered pants, and a bowler hat in the same checkered pattern.

"Yeah, don't start with the golf jokes," Matthews says, raising an eyebrow. "It's a hobby. I'm certain the rest of you pinheads out there in Yokel Land have hobbies too, so don't start in on ME."

Someone off-screen tosses Dean a club; he catches it deftly in his right hand. "You rule, Pedro," he calls to the thrower.

Resting the head of the club against the fairway, Matthews clasps both his hands on the handle and turns back to face the camera. "Now then," he says. "Let's get a few things out into the open. First off, I'll go on the record by suggesting that Erik Zieba is a communist. Furthermore, he's a biased little manwhore. At Revolution, I won that cruiserweight title fair and square, right there in the center of the ring. I proved, beyond a SHADOW OF A DOUBT, that I was well within the legal cruiserweight size limit. Yet that COMMUNIST TARD decided to flex his dictatorial muscle and take MY title just because he didn't like me. He even rigged a freakin' scale to register me as twenty pounds OVERWEIGHT. By God, I should sue for discrimination... but nah. I'll settle for watching my dear friend Eric Davis whip Comrade Zieba six ways from Sunday at Genesis."

"But let's get past Erik Zieba turning GXW into his own personal Soviet Union and get to what's really relevant, huh? Oh, wait... that IS what's relevant, 'cause that F*CKING COMMUNIST ZIEBA has scheduled me in the STUPIDEST PREDICAMENT IMAGINABLE."

"Case in point: Johnny Styles. Why the HELL am I teaming with a horny little circle-jerker who would rather spend his time pleasuring himself than wrestle? ESPECIALLY since that same horny dipwad took a shot at me last week? Is Johnny Styles suddenly my running-buddy? I think not. My tastes run a bit higher. But I'll tell you what, Styles. I know you're watching this, so let's clear the air. I think you're a primitive, unmannered f*g. I'm sure you don't exactly respect me either. But seeing as we ARE in there with a couple of douches who we BOTH hate, you and I can at least try to coexist for one night. After that, you're on your own."

"But how about the opposition, huh?"

Flipping his club off the fairway, Matthews rests it across his right shoulder. "Well, Rrrrrricky Gant. How about that Onslaught, eh? Let me clarify something for you right now. I had you beat. Don't give me that BS about how you hit your cute little Last Word and would've pinned me anyway. Fact of the matter is, there was still plenty of gas left in my tank. But more importantly, we learned from that match that I can not only hang with you, I can give you a run for your money - as you learned firsthand when I suplexed your sorry *ss from one end of the ring to the other. Expect an encore performance of that this week, with one exception: I have a new final act. And that act entails me pinning your shoulders to the mat and taking home the 1-2-3. No fluke DQs for you this time, Glover... too bad."

"By the way. Tommy Rage... challenge for you, big boy. How about this. Let's make this contest interesting. If I pin EITHER member of your team, YOU give ME a shot at the Television Title next week. Not Styles... ME. I'll happily take that precious strap off your hands. What can I say? This whole debacle of the Cruiserweight Title has left me with a taste for gold... so why not take yours? Choice is yours, champ. Don't chicken out."

"That's all from me..."

Turning away from the camera, Matthews swings his club and sends the golf ball soaring into the air. It arcs into the distance before plummeting to bounce off the green, landing mere inches from the hole. It bounces a few more times, then rolls sedately into the hole.

"Perfect," Matthews says to himself, smirking in satisfaction as he turns and heads towards the green. He pauses and looks over his shoulder - "Catch you clowns later. Right now, I've got some links to play."

Fade out.


(Fade into the dressing room of Ricky Gant and Tommy Rage. Rage is wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt that says, “I got you ratings, right here” with an arrow that points to his groin. Ricky Gant is wearing his wrestling attire. )

“The Truth” Tommy Rage: Well, well, well. I guess this means I get a night off from defending this title.

(Points to the GXW TV belt that’s laying on the floor.)

Tommy Rage: Not only that but I get to team up with a good friends and take care of some business. Johnny Styles, I took care of you last time, but if you want another piece of me well that’s certainly fine. You see Styles you just have to realize your place in this world. You’ve got guys like The Truth Tommy Rage, The Rant Ricky Gant, Steve Hotbody, even my man Token here… and on the other hand is people like you. A guy that got thrown into a TV title match before he was ready and now a guy that looks like he got teamed with some loser, probably not even by his own choice, against two men that you just can’t handle. But you know Styles, this isn’t really about you. You’re just a subplot in this novel. The real story is a piece of crap that will be taken care of. If you’re smart, you’ll stay out of the way and not get yourself hurt. Because my man Gant here has some stuff that he plans on taking care of when we get into that ring at Onslaught. If you get in the way, well what can I say… innocent civilians die in any good battle.

“The Rant” Ricky Gant: You said it Tommy. This isn’t about Styles. This isn’t about tag-team wrestling. Hell not like we’re going to make a run for the titles when you’ve already got gold strapped around your neck. This is about revenge. Plain and simple. This is about taking on a loser that can’t handle what we’ve got to offer. This is about a junk smoking, limp wristed cum receptacle who can’t be a real man and face his opponent in the ring. Although I guess it did give you a new excuse for being a loser. No need to bust out the Kleenex, unless it’s to clean off the leakage. Should be great to hear you whine and cry your way out of this loss. It’s a good gimmick, you should stick with it. Last time the poor little rassler had a bad head cold. This time while flat on his back unconscious, he had the match clearly in hand only to have it dastardly pulled out of his hands by his own cohorts. What poor luck you have. Just a shame that you weren’t a real man and you wouldn’t have to worry about that sort of thing. But I guess crying like a ##### is a ratings boost, so thank god you’re here to save the GXW. But you know what, none of that will matter when we get to the ring. See this time, I’ll be ready for any tricks you try to pull. This time I’ll make sure that my boys got my back. This time I’m going to finish what I started. Or better yet, what I did finish till you weren’t man enough to fight your own battles.


RE: Wha-Wha-Whaaaat?

(“The Truth” Tommy Rage is seen walking backstage with Token walking next to him. One of the GXW ring workers stops Rage and starts to talk to him.)
GXW Moron: Hey Tommy, did you see that promo that Dean Matthews cut?
Tommy Rage: First of all, who the hell do you think you are even talking to me. Go put up the ring or fetch Token a Pepsi or something. But since you brought it up, I did happen to catch snoozefest 2003. I gave up trying to make sense of what the walking contradiction was trying to say, but I guess it’s a big ratings winner. ::rolls eyes:: First we get a tirade about the evil dictatorship of Erik Zieba. God forbid a President of a wrestling organization makes the matches. The f’n nerve of that guy for thinking that he should be able to promote a card that he chooses too. But in the next breath he wants me to offer him a shot at the title if he pins me or Ricky in that ring on Onslaught. Guess we don’t really have a working definition of “communism” yet do we Matthews. Guess that G.E.D. isn’t that great.

But I will make this offer. If, and mind you that’s a HUGE if, you are able to pin myself or the Rant, I will turn to Kaiser Zieba and ask him in his infinite communist wisdom if he will bestow upon you a title shot.

Now that’s done. You can go back to stroking your woods and playing with your balls.


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
Aberdeen United States
The camera opens to a shot of a well lit room. The room has been decorated to look quite classy. However, the the man sitting in the chair in the middle of the room throws the whole scene off. Its Johnny Styles wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt that reads "Easy Like Sunday Morning". Styles is staring straight into the camera and begins to speak.

Styles: Why Zieba? Why the hell would you pair me with Dean Matthews? I mean, its not like he and I are buddy buddy. Whats worse is that he has the odasity to trash his own tag team partner right before an important upcoming match. Im willing to let that slide this time. Do it again, and we'll see who's laughing last. Johnny Rage is my partner, Zieba. Lets get that right from now on, ok?

Now, as for Grant and Rage. Yeah, ok, you beat me for the 1,2,3 in our match. But doesnt it bother you just a little bit, that you may have had a little outside help? I mean, Ratings Boost did interfere in our match. The way that I see things your nothing but a cheat. Does this indicate things to come, Truth? You said that Im nothing but a subplot in your novel. Well, then get ready to save a couple chapters because its going to be one hell of a long night for you and Gant as soon as Matthews and I step into the squared circle with you two. I've got an uncomfortable new position that I've just been waiting to try...

Styles smirks and begins to flick his hair a little bit as the camera fades to black.

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