Eugene looks confused that no ladies are out here with him this week. Oh, silly Eugene. The ladies never hang out with nerds like us. Ok, maybe once or twice when they’re going through their “goth” phase... I mean... uh... I get the ladies all the time. I don't

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In the Bischoffice….

Eric Bischoff: I know that this must be hard for you, but you’ve got to accept it, man. Tomko’s the new Carlito.

Kurt Angle: I’m not doing it! No way! How long did I have to carry Jindrak’s sorry ass? Huh? Or for God’s sake…Haas? Benjamin?! Why don’t you just have me cut promos for the entire roster, Eric? Huh? I don’t need to be carrying some charismaless schlub every week. I’ve got my hands full enough with Cena as it is.

Bischoff: Come on, man. I’ve already got Tomko/Cena booked for tonight. Look, he won a match against the tag team champions last week! Tag Team Champions!

Angle: Have they even won a match since they won the titles five months ago?

Bischoff: Err…no, but….

Angle: Sigh. Does he do anything else? Is he fluent in over six million forms of communication or something at least?

Bischoff: Tomko! Cut a promo.

Tyson Tomko: ….

Angle: Wow. That was fantastic. Now I see what Chris Tian saw in him! I’ll take it!

Bischoff: Another satisfied customer.

Rene Dupree: Oh, Tyson! Why did you abandon me in my hour of need? I was running out of Heats to find a tag team partner! Oh, now what shall I do?!

Bischoff: Aren’t you supposed to be French there, Snidley?

Dupree: Wee Wee!

Bischoff: Man, I book the worst shows ever.

You can get used to this folks, because the only way these guys are staying around when we get to USA is in pointless tag matches to kill time in the middle of the card. Viscera offers Val the first hump of the match, but Val passes, choosing instead to flirt with random high school girls in the audience. The Heart Throbs try to hit some tag team related offense, but come on, if you were really a good tag team, or hell even a mediocre tag team, or even two poor midcarders in a hastily thrown together tag team because both of you had relatively similar gimmicks, you would have beaten Rosey and Hurricane by now. And you haven’t. Loooooosers. After the match, Val and Viscera take some time out to jiggle for the fans at home.

The time when Iron Chef Wrestling Chris Masters narrowly defeated celebrity challenger Wolfgang Puck in the classic Peanut Butter M&Ms battle, in which, Masters, with only 27 seconds left on the clock, devised and mixed together a combination of Peanut M&Ms and Rice Pilaf that was so good that it killed the pallets of all the judges who ate it. They can now taste nothing, that is how good it was. When asked for a name for this dish, Master’s simple reply was: “Swan’s Crossing.” You can try it for yourself at your local grocer.

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Linda McMahon encourages us to send money to embattled wrestler Shane Helms, eat brains.

It’s time for the Cabana, with everybody’s favorite Intercontinental Champion, Carlito!

Carlito: My guest tonight is…Ashley Massaro? Who the hell is that? Das not cool! Sorry, guys, I guess it just keeps going down hill from here.

Diva Search 2005 winner, Ashley Massaro makes her way to ringside. She’s just too punk rawk for her shirt to have a midriff, I tell you!

Ashley Massaro: Teehee, thanks for bringing me on the show!

Carlito: You got it whoever you are. Now, here’s my qu-

Ashley: Teehee.

Carlito: -estion. Who the hell are you any-

Ashley: Teehee.

Carlito: way?

Ashley: I’m WWE Diva Search 2005 Winner, Ashley Massaro! And I’m punk RAWK WOOO!

Carltio: Massaro? Didn’t I have to fight that guy in one of the Mortal Kombats, or something?

Ashley: Teehee.

Carlito: So I guess you’re feuding with Victoria, Boobsie, and Torrie Wilson-

Ashley: Teehee.

Carlito: -that must be pretty depressing, huh?

Ashley: No! Those guys hella rock for reals, yo. They’re real! To the max!

Carlito: Right. Question thr-

Ashley: Teehee.

Carlito: Would you stop that?!

Ashley: Stop what?

Carlito: Not everything I say is funny! Laughing at Carlito? Das not cool!

Ashley: I’m sorry. It’s just that…why is Ric Flair grabbing your balls?

Carlito: Oh, that. Das a long story. You see, earlier today….

Stephanie McMahon: Ric, we were thinking, wouldn’t it really add to this feud if you grabbed Carlito’s balls?

Ric Flair: Grab-GRAB CARLITO’S BALLS?! Woo! You want, the Nature Boy! Sixteen Times World Heavyweight WOO! Ric Flair, Sixteen Times heavyweight champion of the world! You want me to grab Carlito’s balls?!

Stephanie: Well…it’d only be for a few seconds-

Flair: Make it a minute and you have a deal!
Stephanie: I don’t think that’s-

Flair: Five minutes!

Stephanie: Ric-

Flair: FIFTEEN MINUTES! WOOO!

Stephanie: Ric, I don’t th…where are you going?!

Flair: I’m going to go grab Carlito’s balls right now! WOO!

Back to the Cabana….

Ashley: That story is kind of weird and creepy.

Flair: I’m just trying to get to know my grandchildren a little better! WOO!

David Flair: You think this is bad, try living with him for twenty years.

Carlito: No wonder you turned on him.

David: Between that and the shark infested stream, I couldn’t get away fast enough.

Then, Vince Russo runs out through the crowd and dumps the pail of apples into the crowd.

Vince Russo: Cahlito! I’m ya fathah! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Shocking Swerve~! Jesus Saves.

Flair: That punk stabbed me in the face last week!

Carlito: Really? Das cool!

Jesus: I’ll stab you again if you don’t let go of Carlito’s junk.

Flair: WOO!

Who can forget the classic 2 hour time limit battle where young up and comer Chris Masters defeated Iron Chef French Hiroyuki Sakai with his classic Tuna Fish Jello Mold/Tuna Brownie Surprise desert combo, to win the Iron Chef title. Certainly not the WWE Video Package crew!

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Lance Cade and Trevor Murdoch are at a bar.

Lance Cade: Tonight, the WWE is going to see how two real cowpokes from the South handle WWE tag teams. Yeehaw.

Trevor Murdoch: Man, I remember you! Weren’t you Jeff Jarrett?

Cade: No. That’s silly.

Murdoch: Silly? How is that any sillier than you calling me Dustin Rhodes last week?

Cade: Dude, you are quite clearly Dustin Rhodes.

Murdoch: And you are quite clearly Jeff Jarrett.

Cade: Shut up. Don’t you ruin this for me. Now remember, that’s J-A-Doub-

Murdoch: AHA!

Cade: Dammit!

Murdoch: Now who wants to see my daddy’s splotch?!

Matt Hardy is in the Bischoffice.

Eric Bischoff: Wait a second. I thought we were selling this like you were dead.

Matt Hardy: You cannot hold down the Angelic Diablo.

Bischoff: We’ll see about that. But didn’t you have a…severed…pelvis or something?

Hardy: Nothing can be worse than the pain of losing the vessel for my children. Not even a severed pelvis!

Bischoff: Well…whatever, man. Here sign this contract for a cage match with Edge.

Hardy: A cage match. Isn’t that kind of lame?

Bischoff: Look, there doing one on Smackdown, and we’ve got to keep up on the inexplicably continuing feud scale. We’ll skip the ladder match and go right for the cage.

Hardy: I guess that makes sense.

Bischoff: Sorry to hear about your brother by the way.

Hardy: That’s ok, we’ve got a guy working on that.

Bischoff: Well, you’d better get ready. Because tonight you’re facing Abe Orton!

Hardy: Man, do you have to keep reminding people how convoluted this storyline is?

Bischoff: Kid, it’s the only pleasure I get in this job.

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Lita and Edge provide commentary from the ramp again. Edge says he’s fine. Geez. Way to sell it guys. Rather than recap this match, I’m going to give you a sneak peak at the Kane autobiography, coming to half priced bookstores near you!

I was working at Vick’s, a clothing store, to pass the time during dentistry school.
It wasn’t so bad really, the worst part was having to dress all the mannequins.
I felt silly pulling skirt after skirt, polo top after polo top over these stupid
hunks of plastic. Does anybody even ever buy clothes based on how they
look on the mannequin anyway?

“Oh! I don’t like that top. Take it off please.”

Ugh, Mrs. Crunchberry. I hated her. The snooty store manager was always
there after hours mocking how I’d set up the models. I wished she would just
die. Wait…wasn’t she on vacation.

“I’m really more of an autumn, don’t you think.”

I rubbed my eyes and slapped myself. The mannequin, she…she was talking!
To me! Horribly ugly, socially awkward dental student Kane Bearer!
I looked up at the distressed mannequin. She seemed alive!

“You…you’re alive?!”
“Yes, and I don’t like this shirt.”
“Ho…how?!”
“It’s magic, I guess. You’re the only one ever to talk back to me.”
“You’re so pretty! What can I call you?!”
“I don’t know, what’s in a name anyway?”

I searched frantically for something, some name I could call this goddess creature.
Then I saw it. Printed on her soft, supple left buttocks. Inspected
With Pride by….

“Katie.” I said breathlessly.
“That’ll work.”
“Katie…uh…Vick.”

“Do you want to go have some sweaty mannequin sex, you big lug?
I have a hunger, and the only cure is more Kane!”

The officers surveyed the scene. Everyone at that party had mocked
me! I told them! She was real! She would come to life any
minute! The told me I was crazy, but I knew better.
I was drunk, driving home when I swerved to miss a deer.
Katie, my darling Katie, flew out of the front seat and into the street.
I picked up the parts as quickly as possible, but I guess I missed the head.

“Son, what is this?!”

I panicked, what was I going to say?! That I was a no good mannequin screwer?
No, no.

“It’s my girlfriend! Katie Vick! And I killed her!”

The police had just enough time to call in the report before I threw my hands
up and down and set them ablaze. I gathered the rest of my darling Katie
and put her in the trunk. No one must learn of this indiscretion.
Especially not any blue blood degenerates from Connecticut. Those guys
were always after me. The back up would be here any minute, I had to
think of a name. Something even my brother Under wouldn’t recognize.
Fake Diesel? No, that was stupid. Think Kane, think. You’ll be a
doctor soon, if you can get those credits transferred. Doctor. Who
was that guy on the Loveboat? Gopher? No, that’s stupid too.

Isaac. Now there was a guy with his head firmly on his shoulders.
Dr. Isaac…Yankem. Yeah. That just might work!

Orton wins after his uncle Cowboy Bob trips Matt up. Big Show waddles out to make the save, but he doesn’t even have time to pose before these….

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In order to best sell his concussion, John Cena rams his head into the turnbuckle to start. Come on, Tomko, nobody’s selling your offense. All the same, Tomko takes control after Cena, having run through the five moves he knows, locks up. But, on this night in Nashville, I can tell you that without a doubt THE CHAMP IS HERE! Cena fires back. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch punch punch! You can’t see him! Rene Dupree wanders out and begs Tomko not to leave him, and while Tomko is comforting Dupree, he gets counted out. Cena wins! While John is celebrating with his fans, Angle attacks, nailing the Angle Slam on the ram, and kicking poor concussed Cena in the head. Then, Angle plays with the belt for a few minutes. It’s shiny and it spins. Wheeeeee!

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Todd Grisham is with Kurt Angle.

Todd Grisham: Todd Grisham here and I’m with Kurt Angle, and Kurt, I’ve gotta know, would you snap off my leg and beat me to death with it?

Kurt Angle: Sure. Why?

Grisham: Because I read that Kane Autobiography excerpt.

Angle: And?

Grisham: Have you read it?

Angle: I see what you mean.

Grisham: Please, that was awful, take the pain away.

Angle: Oh, the pain’s not going away any time soon. You hear that Cena? Because at Unforgiven, I’m going to make you tap! Excuse me.

Grisham: Unbelievable. I can’t believe the nerve of that guy. Oh well.

Todd rips off his leg and beats himself to death with it. Todd Grisham has fallen.

This one’s gonna be a workrate classic folks, I can feel it. I like the vibe the heel girls are giving up. It’s like high school. It’s obvious that Victoria hated Christy and Stacy because they spurned her advances at forming a heel stable with her. Ashley over rotates on a Sunset flip, ending up somewhere in the third row. Oh well. That’s a .8 Gayda right there. Torrie hits an X-Factor for the win. Somebody yells, “I still love you, Torrie!” She laughs nervously and leaves. Best women’s match ever. This division needed less Trish.

In a special challenge, Chris Masters defeated imprisoned challenger Martha Stewart, building a 12 foot tall wedding cake, whereas Stewart’s, fashioned mostly from rats and her cell mate’s nose hair, measured a mere 2 feet. Afterwards, Viscera ate both cakes.

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One week after having the internet’s mouth surgically removed from his dick, Shelton is back and there ain’t no stoppin’ him…NAH! A giant egg is wheeled down to the ring. What could that mean. My favorite part of this match? The crowd letting out an audible sigh when Conway came out. Yeah, I know how your feel. I have to see him EVERY WEEK! Shelton takes control, but suddenly, the egg hatches and Gay Gobbledygooker comes out and starts doing the Chicken Dance. Shelton starts to ask him what the hell he is doing, but he gets rolled up. Conway wins! Gay Gobbledygooker is taking this feud straight to the bank! BAWK!

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Yeah, man, because if you want to sell TNA on one thing? It’s the Pounce.

Mick Foley is on his book tour. His book is called Scooter. It’s about a well meaning, nerdy child and his rich uncle who owns a theatre for performing animals. The role of the narrator is taken by two cantankerous old men who go to every one of the animals’ performances, despite claiming throughout the book that they do not enjoy the show. Mick’s commentary here on the stupidity of those who watch something weekly only to offer snarky remarks on the performances is obviously a critique of the IWC and their roll as wrestling’s primary target audience and, yet, biggest detractors. The fact that Scooter himself seems to be a background character on the show indicates a deeper menace than the narrators however. Every show is dominated by a sneaky “frog” and his fat, shrieking, overbearing girlfriend, who are determined to hold the other performers on the show down, namely “Fozzy” a legitimately funny and talented superstar in the making, and Rowlph, the most technically gifted worker on the staff, who is described as being less a dog and more a “wolverine.” Inexplicably, a drugged out monster named Animal appears to befriend the characters, taking some of the “reality” out of the book, but I loved Gonzo, the banana nosed chick lover who liked to promise to take his girl on a ride to his home planet, fat boy, WOO! My review? It’s the Animal Farm of this generation.

Come on guys! Tag Team names! I guess this is non-title? I hate Hurricane’s new tights. Did I mention that yet? Cade struts to start. Halfway through the match, a fan yells, “I made you Cade! I made you, and I can break you!” Cade laughs nervously. Elvis comes down to ringside to a huge pop, but Cade steals his guitar and smashes it over Hurricane’s head, and hit’s the Stroke on Rosey. Murdoch makes the cover and picks up the win. After the match, Murdoch sets Elvis up in the corner and hits the Golden Globes on him. Can no one stop these cowboys?

How about the time when Masters really proved himself to the audience at large? Down two points with only one dish to impress the crazy fortune teller and that politician, Masters unveiled Fried Mustard and Leeks Sandwiches, and the crowd went wild. Masters swept the final round of voting and beat his challenger, Swedish Chef 26-25 in one of the tightest battles in Kitchen Stadium history. Swedish Chef, crying over his bowl of Mustard Croonchy Stars, had only this to offer, “Bork Bork Bork.”

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Todd Grisham’s Body is backstage with Masters.

Todd Grishams’s Body: ….

Chris Masters: I think I’m going to do well. I have a lot of respect for Chef Michaels. I mean, I’ve never heard of him actually preparing any dishes or anything, but here in kitchen stadium, you can’t take anyone lightly. Last week, I showed Ric Flair what it takes to be an Iron Chef. This week, I’m going to show Shawn Michaels!

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Iron Chef Wrestling Chris Masters v. Shawn Michaels
In a Yummy Mummy Battle

Shinichiro Ohta: Fukui-San!
Kenji Fukui: Go ahead!
Ohta: A difficult draw for the Iron Chef here, as Yummy Mummy was released before he was born!.
Fukui: Ouch. One has to wonder how the Iron Chef will over come such a large challenge. Especially here in the main event.
Dr. Yukio Hatori: I’d like to introduce our guest commentator. Stevie Ray, what’s your favorite Cereal?

Stevie Ray: Froot Booty!

Fukui: Never heard of that one-

Stevie Ray: Tony! Tony! Can I ax you a question?
Fukui: Uh…Go ahead.

Stevie Ray: What’s with all these yaks, Tony? Suckas gots to know!

Hatori: I believe they’re there for the Yak Gizzard Battle tomorrow.

Stevie Ray: Is that Kwang, Tony?

Fukui: Huh?

Ohta: Fukui-San!

Fukui: Go ahead!

Ohta: I believe the person he’s referring to is former WWE Superstar Savio Vega who once performed as Kwang. He’s also pointing at me, which seems to indicate that he thinks that I’m Kwang. Which I am not.

Fukui: Ah, that explains it.

Hatori: That’s odd…The Iron Chef seems to be messing up a lot of his dishes. The challenger definitely has a chance! But what’s this?!

Fukui: It seems that the Iron Chef has hit his challenger with a Yummy Mummy Beef Casserole. The challenger is out! The Iron Chef wins!

Stevie Ray: Tony! Tony! This stuff is great!

Tony Schiovane: Sorry folks, we’re all out of time!

Kitchen stadium clears as Dean Malenko runs to ringside to check on Michaels.

Excerpt From the Casefiles of Dean Malenko
Chapter 4

I was there trying to track down Kane, though it seems he’d gone more missing than Emilia Earhart after she’d been abducted by aliens and probed from here to Pluto. I’d tried to ask Michaels what had happened, but he was stone cold out, a victim of the fruity casserole which tasted like a crap sandwich dipped in tar and cooked in battery acid. I still took a Tupperware container for the road. Beggars can’t be choosers. Outside, I ran into them. At first, I dismissed them as riffraff, but they kept waving at me like a group of insolent teens waving at some substandard boy band whose record sales and musical apathy ensure several weeks on the charts before they are completely forgotten by even their most die hard fans. I approach them and gawk at the strange mix. A small, boring looking man, more of a kid, really, a tall frat boy type, and a Korean Elvis. These were marks on my list, what odd fortune meeting them here.

“Mr. Malenko, have you found Jeff’s killer, yet?” the kid who would be a man, asked?

“Not yet, son. But rest assured, I will. What are you all doing here?”

“I was here to find my wife! She ignored me! I still love her, but she ignored me!”

“I was here to complain to Vince. Look at these two! They’re way smaller than me, and yet they get pushed and I don’t! What’s the deal with that?!” The frat boy growled, angry.

“To be fair, weren’t they fired at the same time as you?” I growled right back. I won’t take any guff, especially when my abilities are called into question due to my size.

“Well, yeah, but come on. Randy should of saved me. Or Garrison…Lance…whatever he’s going by these days.”

“That’s your partner?” I asked.

“Yeah. It was great. I loved double teaming with Garrison. Even if I carried the team.”

“What about you, do you have a name?”

“….”

“He doesn’t understand English,” the jock offered.

“Ow…yes I do…I’m from Georgia for Imagi’s sake. Erk…I just got kicked in the balls though!”

“Did any of you see anything? Who might have killed Jeff?”

“What if one of us did? How do you know we’re not lying?” the kid man offered.

“Because you two are too small to have done that kind of damage, and your friend here is too stupid.”

“Grrr! It was too dark to see anything, now hoof it before I punch your lights out!” The jock raged like Bull Buchanan in Chyna. I shivered at the thought of that, and choked down a little vomit.

“I saw someone attack him. From behind. Whoever it was, they were sneaky,” Elvis offered.

“Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Torrie!” the kid called out.

“H…Hi, Billy! How…how are things?”

“Come back to me, Torrie!”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeease?”
“Have you even washed your hair since you got fired?”
“I do this in mourning for you!”

“Me? I’m fine!”

“Noooooooooooo!”

Lance Cade walked over, but before Jindrak could say anything Cade’s new bunkmate kicked Jindrak in the balls and Cade hit him with another guitar. I didn’t do anything. I’m not the law around here. Or anywhere for that matter. As fun as this sea of human impotence and iniquity was, I had to get back to the city. There I’d find my next lead, hopefully the lead that will take me out of the valley of the shadow of death and to some answers for the dame. I had a strange feeling that many of those answers lay with Kane. The man who would betray his own brother, devastated by the loss of his girlfriends, child, wife, feud. A nut job on his first night of work and a boss pushing a dangerous religion filled with bad rhyming poetry. He’d killed before, would he hesitate to do it again? I wouldn’t presume to know the answer to that, at least not yet. All I knew is that I had to watch the shadows, because every step might be my last.