(Opening Credits)

Here’s Vince McMahon striding out to…the ramp. The floor actually. You know what that means when there’s no ramp! No silly ramp spots! Also, vehicular hijinx. Why isn’t he going to cut this promo in that very ring? Maybe he’ll tell us!

Vince McMahon: You may be wondering why I’m not cutting this promo in that very ring here tonight. Well, I have a very simple reason. You see, over the weekend, I developed a severe case of vertigo, and I can now not take being anywhere over two feet off the ground. Hence no entrance ramp. (whispering) Do you think they bought it?

Triple H: (from behind the curtain) Yeah, yeah. They won’t suspect a thing!

Vince: That’s right! No vehicular mayhem tonight folks! Just old Vince afraid of mild heights. Now, I know WWE.com has been saying all day that Stone Cold Steve Austin would be here tonight, but what do they know, huh? That site is run by a bunch of pimple faced nerds who don’t know anything about wrestling. Those babies want to start rumors about my company? Screw them! On a happier note, I was shocked and pleased that my wife, the lovely Linda, was kind enough to kick J.R. in the balls and then fire him last week. Never mind that she tried to gnaw through his skull. Sometimes things like that happen. But a heel Linda means a NEW ERA for this business. An era loaded with heel McMahons. But before we get to that, here’s a montage of hit J.R. moments:

Various Clips of J.R. in a toga and forgetting who Jericho and Benoit were air. I think at least half of those were Oklahoma.

Vince: Without J.R., truly this is a new day for WWE. And who better to announce this new day than our friend, Tony Schiavone!

Tony Schiavone: IT’S A NEW DAY FOR WCW! You know, fans, I’m as big a fan of Jim Ross as you’ll find, and I don’t think he should have been fired. In fact, I’m going to quit right now so that he can have his job back. OH! IT WAS A SHOCKING SWERVE! I wasn’t going to quit at all!

Slumping backstage, Vince runs into Kurt Angle.

Kurt Angle: So…who the hell is the number one contender?

Vince: What?

Sean Cold Val Venis: What?

Stone Cold Steve Austin: Wh…Oh, I’m not supposed to be here yet.

Angle: For the WWE Title? Isn’t that the whole reason we did that six man last week?

Vince: We did a six man last week? Who won?

Angle: I did.

Vince: Well, then, I suppose you sh….

The Hurricane: Not so fast there, Mr. McMahon!

Vince: Oh, nonononononono. You are not getting a title shot.

Hurricane: Haven’t I suffered enough?

Vince: Sic ‘em, Kurt!

Angle: Who do I look like? Trish Stratus?

Vince: Just…beat him up, ok?

Angle attacks Hurricane, dragging him down to the ring. There, he locks in the Ankle Lock until a gaggle of referees pull him off. Well…There’s always Heat, Hurricane. Internet Heat.

(ads)

Joining Tony at the commentators booth now is Stevie Ray. It’s officially on like Donkey Kong. Back in the Bischoffice, Eric Bischoff and Vince McMahon chat.

Vince McMahon: It’s almost time for Taboo Tuesday, and you know what that means.

Eric Bischoff: That that’s still a terrible name for a PPV?

Vince McMahon: Besides that, I mean. I’m talking about how the fans get a chance to vote on the direction of the Pay Per View and, indeed, the entire company.

Bischoff: Don’t you remember how terribly that turned out last year? Hell, this year you’re likely to get your ass voted off the show.

Vince: Woah. You’re right. That’d suck.

Bischoff: Either that or we’ll end up with an all cage matches PPV.

Dusty Rhodes: I feeleeb ida budda aboo!

Bischoff: Well, whatever. We’ll just have matches to qualify people for spots in the number one contender’s voting. Hell, we’ll put Angle in the match automatically and make it a triple threat, because, to be fair, he asked first.

Vince: I love how lazy that is. Eric, you do a fine job at running RAW.

The Big Show v. Edge (w/ Lita)
In a Championship Vote Qualifying Match

“The GIANT! The Giant is here tonight!” “Tony, Tony! Can I axe you a question? What’s with that yak down there?” Show mauls Edge to start, but that’s all stopped when Edge whines that Show never lets him do any offense. Given the chance to take over, Edge opts for the armbar. Sigh. There’s your erstwhile number one contender folks. Show finally gets sick of all this rubbish and dumps himself and Edge to the outside. Show checks on Lita’s cleavage as we take time for these nice….

(ads)

Lita is hanging off Show’s arm as Show swings at Edge. Either Lita’s not very good at this whole “meddling manager” thing or she’s secretly very sick of being with a number one contender who seems perfectly content to remain erstwhile. Maybe Edge is just afraid that if he ever cashes that coupon in, he’ll have to give up the briefcase. It is a nice briefcase. Edge with the Spear (Schiavone: Goldberg with the SPEAR!), but suddenly JBL’s music plays. MOOOOO! I love that. Edge is confused because nobody would even want to send JBL to mess around with anything, but that’s just the opportunity Show needs to hit the choke slam. Show wins.

Last Saturday: Fans lined up from miles around to sit outside some arena in Chicago. One lucky fan got a seat “(I)n the cotton candy swirler in the concession stand. They’re not good seats, but it’s WrestleMania! And free cotton candy!” Lucky bastard.

Edge has stormed into the Bischoffice. I wonder if he’s mad!

Edge: I’m mad! What the hell is JBL’s music doing distracting me during the match?

Eric Bischoff: I don’t know. Sound Guy?

Sound Guy: Seemed like the thing to do, you know?

Edge: Seemed like the thing to do?!

Sound Guy: Sure. Look, Mr. Bischoff, you don’t want fancy pants here winning the voting, right? Or complaining like last year that he didn’t win the voting. And who else’s music am I supposed to play? I mean, come on. MOOO!

Bischoff: He’s got a point.

(ads)

It’s Cabana Time! Shoot, my Tiki Idol is at the cleaners!

Carlito Caribbean Cool: Today, I’ve got a guest that was perfectly designed to make me look a thousand times cooler than him. Mick Foley!

Mick Foley: Hey, Carlito! I can be cool sometimes, have you ever seen Dude Love?

Carlito: Only losers and winos like guys dressing up like hippies.

Van Hammer: Hey!

Carlito: Shut up! You’re a loser and a wino!

Foley: I’m right here in Sacramento, California! (cheap pop) to say that what happened to J.R. was wrong. A great announcer like that, they should have at least waited until the PPV to fire him. Also, what the hell is up with Linda’s heel turn? She can barely play a face, much less a heel. Not to mention this is going to be murder during the next conference call.

Live Via Satellite is WWE CFO Linda McMahon! Yay!

Linda McMahon: Mick, I’ve heard all of your concerns and I think they’re very valid. WWE’s stockholders too are very worried about the fate of Jim Ross, and the fact that I’m now an evil bitch hell bent on ruining this company has done little to set minds at ease. All I can tell you is that the WWE is unfettered, and we will continue our tireless search for the highest quality entertainment for our fans and their delicious braaaaaaaiiins. Braiiiiiiiiins!

Carlito: What a woman.

Foley: You can say that again.

Carlito: Can I ask you something, Mick? Can I spit this apple on you? Just this once?

Foley: Carlito, I don’t do the spitting thing anymore. Last time that happened, I think Orton gave me bird flu. Tell you what though, Shawn Michaels will be out here in a few minutes, and I’m sure you could probably convince him to let you spit on him. He’s not afraid of the bird flu. Not with Jesus on his side.

Carlito: Fine. Sigh.

(ads)

Carlito Caribbean Cool v. Shawn Michaels
In a Championship Vote Qualifying Match

“This will be the greatest match in the history of our great sport, Stevie Ray!” “In the ring like a chicken wing, Tony!” Carlito starts off by spitting in Michael’s face half prance. I can understand thinking that prancing for the Lord is not cool, but you don’t interrupt Shawn’s prancing. Luckily, Shawn’s Mirror Vest is +3 v. Expectorated Fruits and Vegetables. Shawn’s armor looks like it was inspired by a leaked copy of the He-Man Season One DVD. Straight out of the BeastMan Catalog from 1986. I have a pair of blue fur underwear from that collection. Carlito apologizes while Michaels shines his mirrors.

(ads)

In the ring now (though not particularly like a chicken wing), Carlito almost gets three with a roll-up. Carlito with a headlock (Schiavone: That’s his move!), but Michaels doesn’t tap. Frustrated, Carlito goes outside for a chair. He takes a swing, but Michaels ducks and comes back with a Superkick for the win. Well, this match proved one thing. Carlito still doesn’t have a finisher. After the match, Shawn Michaels shares a friendly handshake with Ric Flair, who apparently had ambled out while I wasn’t paying attention.

(ads)

Flair has the mic. Let’s listen in!

Ric Flair: Hunter! Hunter! You want to talk about me losing it, pudgy? You don’t want to hang out with saggy old men? Let me tell you about saggy, Triple H! I took your saggy old lady for a ride on SPACE MOUNTAIN, FAT BOY! WOO! That’s right! The Nature Boy! 16-Times, limo ridin’, jet flyin’, kiss stealin’, wheelin’, and dealin’ son of a gun! Fire me? I’m already fired! I was in a plane crash! I died! Do you think that stopped me?! NO! Six months later I was back in the gutter begging for rats because WOO! I was the man! Thor himself, after I told Odin that I took his daughter for a ride WOO straight to Valhalla struck me with a bolt of lighting but do you think that stopped me?! HELL NO! In fact, I barely bladed! And I did it with the dull tip of my damned umbrella! You think you can strike Ric WOO By God Flair down?! Strike me down, and I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine!

Flair proceeds to punch himself in the face, immediately drenching himself in blood. That’s easily 1.0 Muta. Eat that D-Von! Triple H comes out to try to talk some sense into Flair, but Flair pulls out Sting’s Bat! Hunter bails backstage. Flair ambles after him, after initially being unable to find him, Flair opens up a trash can.

Flair: I know you’re in here Hunter!

The King: (pulling out a BK Broiler) ….

Flair: Get out of here! I don’t have time for your poppycockery!

The King: (pulling out a meat cleaver and stabs the Broiler) ….

Flair: I see!

(ads)

Maria Tennyson Lund is backstage with Carlito.

Maria Tennyson Lund: Maria Tennyson Lund here, and I’m backstage with Carlito. Carlito, do you want to have a match with Mick Foley?

Carlito Caribbean Cool: No! Yuck. He can’t carry me to a good match! Plus I don’t even have a finisher! I’m going to job!

Maria: Yeah. Well, you’re on the card! See?

Carlito: Goddammit! They’re dragging him out of retirement to go over me? That’s not cool! Not cool at all!

“What a maneuver that was!“ “Tony, my brother Booker T is former 5 time World Champion!“ You know what’s really sad about this match? Your average fan will look at this match and figure that Boobsie, Torrie and Ashley all are more experienced wrestlers than Ashley. Sad but true. Victoria and Trish hold the distinction of being the only women in the match not to have their boobs plastered all over the internet, though. Bonus points for that? Alexis gets into the match, but in her excitement at finally getting to wrestle on RAW, she forgets everything Raven ever taught her, and jobs immediately to Victoria. Actually, Raven might have taught her that one. Alexis hits the Stratusfaction anyway, while Trish and Ashley make out. Somewhere, Melina is sharpening a knife.

Steve Austin arrives at the building, drives his truck down to the ring, and “accidentally” runs over Boobsie, Ashley and Torrie.

Stone Cold Steve Austin: Oops.

(ads)

Austin’s still out there. What the hell do you want, Steve?

Austin: How the hell does this company get off firing Jim Ross?! I’ve been here for ten years…except those times when I wasn’t, and damned if this isn’t the stupidest decision we’ve ever made. Well, except for Fake Diesel and Razor. And the corpse rape thing. And the…you know what? This isn’t nearly the stupidest thing we’ve ever done, but still. I’ve never backed down from any challenge…except for that time I backed down from Lesnar and…uh…you know what? I’ve backed down plenty. But I’ve always been there for Jim Ross. Except for that time when I was in WCW and I threate…ok. What the hell am I even doing out here? What? I said why am I here? What? What is my motivation? What? My Drive! What? My Character! What? Where the hell is McMahon? I’m going to get drunk!

Austin proceeds to start drinking. Stephanie comes out to break that up. This can’t end well.

Stephanie McMahon: My daddy said that I should come out here and show you my cleavage so that you’d leave. What do you think?

Austin: I think I probably don’t really want to go where Triple H has trod, you know?

Stephanie: Come on. It was good enough for Steiner, it’s good enough for you.

Austin: How about I give you a Stunner and then flash your titties to the crowd?

Stephanie: They’ve seen them.

Austin: Oh yeah.

Jonathan Coachman: I’m not going to stand here and let you assault a woman!

Austin: Son, that’s what I do!

Stephanie: Where the hell did you come from?

Coach: I was hiding under the ring. I was hoping Flair would pull me out instead of the bat.

Stephanie: Do you want a chance to save J.R.’s job and render this whole angle pointless or not, Austin?

Austin: Do I have to wrestle Coach?

Stephanie: Err…yes.

Austin: Well, then I’ll do it. But only because Coach will give me a way better match than Hogan.

Stephanie: Well, if you lose then you get fired.

Austin: Fine. Then I’ll sue you for breach of my WWE Films contract. Now let’s all drink!

Coach, Austin and Stephanie chug beers.

(ads)

Edge, Chris Masters, Shelton Benjamin, Merman, Fisto, Carlito, Rob Conway, Eugene, Tyson Tomko; the White Ranger, Gay Gobbledygooker, Howard Finkel, Abe Orton, Some Ducks, Thor, Trevor Murdoch, Lance Cade, WWE RAW Referee Chad Patton, Viscera, Sean Cold Val Venis, Suga Rosey, Tajiri, Antonio, Romeo, and Kane
In a Championship Vote Qualifying Match

Phew. RAW needed more Kane anyway. Way more. The smart money is on Romeo. I wouldn’t bet against Finkel or Fisto either. Bischoff comes out and mentions that voting for Taboo Tuesday begins next week. Can I vote for Kane to be in every match? That’s something TNA can’t do. An all Kane PPV. Kane goes for a choke slam on Carlito, but Carlito doesn‘t move. He‘s…he‘s rusty. Give him a minute.. John Cena is on Commentary. Oh dear.

Tony Schiavone: Drink SURGE!

Stevie Ray: Tony! Tony! Can I hit somebody with a slapjack? Suckas gots to know!

Man, that Surge is old,
It’s drowning in mold,
Kane’s gonna win the battle,
I like to eat dead cattle.

That was…enlightening. Kane throws out roughly 2/3s of the participants. Yay!

(ads)

That the Heartthrobs are still in this is baffling but oddly comforting. Oh, wait. Now they’re out. Rosey gets tossed as well. To demonstrate his disappointment, Hurricane comes out and throws his mask at Rosey. Holy crap! I wonder if that means what I think it means…REFORMED THREE COUNT! I don’t understand why Edge and Carlito get another chance at this. Maybe they just needed to fill some space. I get that. It’s down to Kane and Masters. Masters offers to barbecue Kane up some ribs if Kane throws the match. Kane lights Masters on fire. Kane wins. After the match, Kane and Cena tease a staredown before throwing down in a wicked break dancing showdown.

Tony Schiavone: Sorry folks, we’re ALL OUT OF TIME!

Stevie Ray: Fruit Booty! Fruit Booty! By GAWD, FRUIT BOOTY!

Next Week: Fan Voting For Taboo Tuesday Begins! What will Ric Flair wear? Chicken Suit, French Maid Outfit, or a Giant Pumpkin Head? Will Cena Fight Big Show, Kane, Shawn Michaels or DJ Ran? Plus, YOU get to vote on the “Legend,” Rob Conway will face on Internet Heat. Please be Repo Man! Please be Repo Man!

Until Next Time!

Excerpts from the Casefiles of Dean Malenko
Chapter Ten

I could still smell the sickly smell of burning flesh and baby oil. Kane was nearby. All my weeks of searching, all my preparation, everything relied on this big, dumb monster to tell me where I needed to search to find Hardy’s true killer. I approached cautiously, not wanting to disturb the unstable giant any more than I had to. But I needed to know.

Hardy’s death, Molly’s charge, my darling Lita, the weight of the world weighed down on me like the heaviest mountain, threatening to crush me out of existence entirely. This place wasn’t kind to lovers of the truth like myself. They’d just as soon run me out of town than admit to their faults, and I’d just as soon let them. But I couldn’t. It was my duty, my sacred charge, to bring light to this shattered darkness. The hallway glowed with a dim, eerie red, like the aftermath of a short but bloody war. The air hung thick as I approached the figure huddled against the wall.

“Would you like a cookie?” the figure procured a tray of cookies shaped like jack-o-lanterns. A sick reminder of the holiday celebrating the horror that men like this carry around the whole year.

“I want the truth, Mr. Jacobs.”

“Oh, go on. They’ve got frosting!” I took one and took a bite. It snapped hard into my mouth, tasting too much of flower and not enough of the sugar that made lesser men consider these treats. “I confess,” he continued, “that I’m not much of a baker. I’ve got the baking part down, but I can never seem to get the mix right. Next time a little more sugar and a little more frosting.”

“It’s fine,” I said, dropping the cookies as if they were about to explode. Business, Dean. “I’m here trying to solve the case of the murder of Jeff Hardy. A man I believe you knew as ‘The Wind.’”

“Well, for that Mr. Malenko, you have to ask yourself, who would have the most to gain from Hardy’s death? Why would it be me? He was my mentor. He helped me utilize my poetic soul to eliminate the emotional distress the death of my child, the loss of my wife to two other men, the loss of my storyline and the loss of my job, at the time, had caused. I would never harm him. Most of the others, the Moores, Jindraks, Mavens, Haases, Mordecais, even the Dudleyz, or rather the former Dudleyz. They had no recourse to harm him, because, at the time, he was the only one who would take them in. Lose him, and,” the big red monster took a hand full of flower and scattered it into the air, “they become lost to The Wind, if you’ll excuse the poor word choice. They knew this, and they wouldn’t want to harm him. Not then, anyway.”

“Yet you hide behind McMahon’s walls.”

“Who is hiding, Mr. Malenko? Not I. I am here to work. McMahon is the only one who will take in a monster like me. I deal now through the power of baking.”

“Do you know who killed Jeff Hardy then? If it wasn’t you?”

“Indeed, I do. It’s quite a simple matter, really. They’ve been under your nose the whole time. You’ve just let your ignorance get the best of you.”

My mind raced. My head fuming under the steam cap of my fedora as my mind’s locomotion churned as fast as it could, trying to race to solve this dastardly crime. Suddenly, it derailed, crashing headlong into the answer I’d sought for so long, but had inside me the entire time. I stumbled forward at the revelation, and what it meant. The monster dropped his tin of tiny cupcakes and held on to me.

“The answers you sought weren’t simple ones, but I hope you understand now. Why we did what we must.”

I nodded slowly. It had crystallized in my mind’s eye. The purpose of OMEGA.

My mind finally cleared, I looked the man right in his pair of mismatched eyes, like two moons on some hell planet, constantly observing the horrors of the world for what they were and what they could but would never be. “Congratulations on your win tonight.”

“I should hope that I someday get the chance to say the same thing to you, sir.”

I left him there. The monster toiling helplessly away at a thankless task. Anything to take his mind off his lost love. I stopped, a lump in my throat. I turned, but he was already there. A weak smile perched itself on his face.

“She’s yours. The slut couldn’t stay with me one year. I’d kill her, but I don’t have the heart. You know what you’re getting into. Best of luck.”

No more words were exchanged. Now wasn’t the time for words. Now was the time for Cloverleaves of Justice.