Vince and Shane McMahon are coming to the ring with a gaggle of Local Indy Workers. Surprisingly, none of them beg Vince for a job on the way down. There’s a guy with a big tattoo on his arm that you can tell really wants to, but this is no time for job hunting. It’s PROMO TIME~!  

Shane McMahon: Why the hell are you thanking anybody for that crap?

Vince: For making the show last week the runaway success that will surely triple the WrestleMania buyrate.

Shane: Oh. Booyah.

Vince: Quite frankly, Shawn Michaels, at Wrestlemania, you won’t be facing just any 60 year old! No, no! You’ll be facing a 60 year old who is featured on the cover of this month’s Muscle and Fitness magazine! Yeah! Look at that!

Shane: Pops…That’s your head Photoshopped onto Dave Meltzer’s body.

Vince: I know! And I look damn good too! Actually…I’m not really even on the cover of this month’s magazine. Quite frankly, Meltzer is, and then I went to one of those crazy photo booths, like in Vegas…where they put your head on somebody else’s body.

Shane: I have one of Me, Marissa and Declan as Aragorn, Arwen and Frodo. That stuff is hot.

Vince: I’m a shame…a terrible, terrible shame. ARG!

The Indy workers turn their backs in embarrassment, allowing Shawn Michaels (who had been disguised at ringside as Coach) to slip into the ring and punch Vince. Vince and Shane bail while the Indy workers mob Shawn and ask for his autograph.

Vince: Was that worth it Shawn? Was it worth it to get in the ring with me and throw some really lazy punches? Huh?

Shawn: Not really, now that you mention it. But I’m not really…mad at you for not rehiring Marty or anything. Those were punches of indifference.

Vince: Well, you’ll see even more punches of indifference tonight when you take on my son Shane!

Shawn: Yeah…You’re probably right.

Shane: But…But…I don’t wanna wrestle! Sigh.

WWE Oscars Moment:

The Godfather: I dun told ‘em. Pimpin’ ain’t easy. It took them this long to figure that out? Damn. I should just go back to doin’ voodoo.

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Backstage….

Shane McMahon: A match? Really? I mean…tonight? Don’t get me wrong, I love jumping off crap, but come on, Pops! I don’t feel like jumping off of ANY crap tonight. I just got my hair done….

Vince McMahon: Quit your bitching. Geez. You sound just like your mother.

Shane: I’m just saying…Shawn Michaels would have to be a complete idiot to fall for your stupid plan.

Vince: That’s the beauty of it, kid. He IS a complete idiot! We all are! Everybody except for that guy.

Chief WWE Physician Dr. The Boogeyman: I’m the Boogeyman! And I’m coming to FOIL YOU!

Vince: Not tonight, Dr. The Boogey. Not tonight.

Ric Flair v. Shelton Benjamin (w/ Mama Benjamin)
For the WWE Intercontinental Title

My favorite part of this match is easily when Shelton comes down to the ring pushing Mama, and she won’t get the IC title out of his face, so he continually has to try to peak out from behind it, and he ends up getting SO frustrated that he just runs over her oxygen tube. There ain’t no stoppin’ him from committing quasi-matricide…NAH! I’m glad he didn’t succeed though, because Mama’s racking me up some mad points on WWE Fantasy. I think I’m ranked, like, 55,354 in the world. Which is a vast improvement on last year’s ranking when I finished with a total of ten points. Flair threatens to chop Mama, before begging off and then threatening her with a ride on Space Mountain, fat woman. WOO! I wonder sometimes if this is where Thea saw her career going. Generally annoyed by the fact that WWE RAW Referee Mickey Jay has seemingly refereed every match since he was signed last year, Shelton pokes him in the eye. That’s good enough for the DQ, but I appreciate the sentiment. How’s WWE RAW Referee Jack Doan going to support his burgeoning music career if he never works? Then Flair grabs the oxygen tank, mistakenly thinking it’s filled with helium. When Shelton tries to stop him, Flair nails him in the face and then sucks down the rest of the oxygen. Disappointed at his inability to produce higher pitched WOOs, Flair flops. Orton wins!

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Who the hell is Cowboy Troy?

Backstage….

Theodore Long: Playas, here’s the deal. I gotta be on this show to announce matches for Smackdown from now on, because nobody watches that show! So this week, we’re gonna have some qualifying matches for our half of the Money in the Bank ladder match for all the bling at Wrestlemania? Ya feel me? Holla Holla!

Rob Van Dam: Duuude, I can’t take you seriously. You’re just a figment of my imagination!

Long: I am not! I’m the general manager of Smackdown, playa! You remember me, don’t you?

RVD: Pfft. Whatever, man. I don’t think Mr. Peanut is the general manager of anything.

Long: Mist…Bitch, please. I’m out of here.

RVD: I saved RAW from an invasion! Yeah! All right!!

Apparently Triple H is going to be on Conan this week. Late Night Talk shows need more Kane. I can’t wait until his movie comes out and then he chokeslams Kimmel. Ok, they seriously need to take the titles off Kane and Show, because since teaming with him back in November, Kane has gained about 70 pounds. Either that or he needs to go back to wearing that slimming leather suit. Iron Chef Wrestling Chris Masters comes out to hit Kane with his new Mastersful Cookbook: Elegant Meals for the Drunk Fratboy in All of Us book, but Kane blocks it. Unfortunately, he can’t block Carlito’s apple, which donks off the side of his head. Talk about not being able to quit each other, Masters and Carlito are made for each other, apparently. Triple H gets the Pedigree, and, of course, wins. I’m vaguely disturbed by the fact that this was being promoted as a “WWF Wresltemania Rewind.” Get the F out! Right? Right? Sigh. I hope Warrior comes back for Warrior v. Triple H next week!

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In the Women’s Locker Room….

Torrie Wilson: The fame of Playboy has really changed Boobsie.

Victoria: What the hell are you prattling on about?

Torrie: She says it’s the hottest WWE diva Playboy pictorial yet, but I’m at least four times hotter than her. Not to mention that Christy was too, even if she did have funky nipples. I mean, hotter than Sable or Chyna, hell yeah, but “hottest ever?” Not by a mile!

Victoria: I think you’re both stupid.

Torrie: Yeah? Well I think Women’s wrestling is stupid!

Victoria: Sigh. You’re probably right.

Torrie: Wait a second…I’ve been in this feud before! When Stacy and Jackie feuded with me and Sable over the cover of Playboy! Oh, damn! I don’t have to be the face do I?

Victoria: Well it sure as hell isn’t going to be ol’ Fishlips McSillydance.

Torrie: Crap.

Elsewheres….

Shawn Michaels: No. No! Hell no!

Stephanie McMahon: I haven’t even said anything yet.

Shawn: Well, whatever it was going to be, it wasn’t going to wind up anywhere good. Or even decent. What happened to you anyway, you fat cow?

Stephanie: I’m pregnant!

Shawn: Who’s the father?

Stephanie: Triple H, duh!

Shawn: Aha! But he divorced you! Oh Undertaker, I think we have ourselves a logic gap here!

The Voice of the Undertaker: Nononono. I’m not getting involved in this one. Could you just imagine three solid months of “Who’s Stephanie’s Baby Daddy?” Hell no. We should just chalk it up to random sluttiness and move on.

Shawn: What did you come here for anyway?

Stephanie: To apologize for my stupid family?

Shawn: Or perhaps to slip a roofie into my water!

Stephanie: Look behind you! A three headed monkey?

Shawn: What? Where?!

Stephanie dumps a white powder into Shawn’s water and dashes off.

Shawn: What a stupid bitch. That monkey only had two heads. Now to drink my water here…What’s that audience? You don’t think I should drink the water? Why ever not? It’s poisoned you say? Well, we’ll see about that!

Shawn drinks the water. Ooooh! He’s got cooties!

WWE Oscar Moment:

Big Show: I wish I knew how to quit you.

Kane: Dude, other than last week you basically HAVE!

Lita: I know what you two are doing at that arena, and it ain’t wrestling! Well…it is wrestling. Gay wrestling…more gay than usual.

Kane: Don’t you start in on this. We’ve been divorced for a long time now.

Lita: Yeah, well did you ever think there might be a reason for that?

Kane: Yeah, because you ran off with Edge because you were cheating on both me and Matt Hardy with him, because you’re a slutty hobag who can’t keep her shorts on for more than ten seconds.

Big Show: What kind of gay cowboy raises sheep anyway?

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Victoria and Torrie are standing next to a huge box. And Boobsie isn’t even in the ring yet. (Rimshot)

Torrie Wilson: So apparently poor Boobsie thought she was going to be going to Wrestlemania. I guess nobody told her that they don’t just haphazardly hand out title matches at Mania.

Victoria: Well, except for last year.

Torrie: Err…Right. So, this girl is stupid, right? So let’s make her feel better by unveiling the cover of this month’s Playboy!

Yikes. Even ol’ Muscle and Fitness is lookin’ more erotic.

Torrie: Holy crap on a stick that looks awful.

Victoria: No kidding. She should sue like Jessica Alba.

Boobsie jumps out of the box.

Boobsie McTitsalot: I’m on the cover of a magazine! Yay for my boobs!

Torrie: You look awful too!

Boobsie: So do your boobs, stupid.

Torrie: Sigh. Get this over with. I hate being a face.

Boobsie and Victoria attack Torrie and leave her laying. Then they make out. Boobsie struts up the ramp while Victoria hangs back, rolling her eyes the whole way. Meanwhile, Shawn Michaels is backstage, and he looks like he’s about to pass out. What will happen, NEXT?

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OH HELL YES! I love Shane’s theme music. Dance, Shane! Dance! Shawn comes out, but when he stops to pray on the ramp, he dozes off and he has to get dragged down into the ring. Shane prances around waiting for Shawn to get up, but he never does. Stephanie really knows her date rape drugs. I wonder if she used the same ones Triple H slipped into her beer when they got married. After a few minutes, Shane just pins him for the win. That wasn’t terribly exciting. Where was the flying elbow or the Super Shane Spear? Don’t tell me I have to wait until Saturday Night’s Main Event! Oh no! I hope to hell Shane falls off something at least.

Embiggened by his son’s classic wrestling victory just moments ago, Vince tells remarkably unscorched ring girl Lilian Garcia to announce that he’s also going to have a go with Shawn. He rolls him up and gets the pin. It’s no wonder Shawn wants to switch to a part time schedule if this is what he’s going to be doing. Stephanie comes out and reveals that her secret Shawn Michaels defeating chemical was…Sweet ‘N Low? Huh. Meanwhile, in Florida….

Marty Jannetty: You don’t want to see me again, Shawn? You’re not happy to see me again?! Well I put a month’s worth of horse tranquilizers in your mirror polish! It’s slowly seeping into your skin as we speak! How do you like them apples, huh?! Mwahahahahahahaha!

McDonald’s Evening Shif Manager Gary: Martin, please don’t talk to the deep fryer.

Marty: Yes sir.

Then The Spirit Squad run out.

Ready? Ok!
McMania is running wild,
Everybody catch it!
This feud is going terribly,
Let’s all just forget it!
Yeah! WOO! We’re number one!

Now, for WWE Chief Physician Dr. The Boogeyman’s Medical Advice for Shawn Michaels:

WWE Chief Physician Dr. The Boogeyman: I’m The Boogeyman, and I’m coming to FLUSH YOU!

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I heard Johnny Jeter didn’t want to be a male cheerleader because it wasn’t going to help him be taken seriously as a wrestler. Listen, dude. Even if you were brought in as something else, chances are you’d have to feud with the Boogeyman or Undertaker or Cena, and then you watch every ideal you set for yourself fall gloriously into a burning pile of trash. It’s not much better in TNA either, mind. Feuding with Dr. Bondage or flippy guys with no gimmick, or worse, Monty Brown. Being a cheerleader feuding with a 40 year old playboy and a Internet Wrestling Smark isn’t too bad a lot all things considered. Eugene can’t help but laugh at the audacity of the Squad, which makes cheating to beat him a whole lot easier. Kenny wins! That bastard!

Edge and Lita are wandering around backstage. You mean Lita’s going to wrestle tonight…Yikes. Better than listening to her boyfriend try to get his catchphrases over, but still…Yikes.

WWE Oscar Moment:

Isaac Mizrahi: Hi there, doll face. Who are you wearing?

Ric Flair: Are you talking to me? WOO!

Isaac: You certainly seem excited, darling.

Flair: I’ve got an Armani suit, $700 Gucci shoes, and I’m going to take your old lady for a ride on SPACE MOUNTAIN, FAT BOY! WOOO!

Isaac: I don’t think that’ll be possible, sweetie. Do you mind if I grab your boob?

Flair: Mind it? I insist!

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Oh man. These two have the combined wrestling ability of a brick. Lita controls the match, with Edge directing traffic outside as she slowly, methodically picks apart Maria with limp punches and headlocks. Finally, Maria has had enough, and after a dragon suplex and a moonsault, Maria goes for the Pepsi Plunge, but Edge is more of a Coke kind of guy, so he pushes her down, and Lita gets the roll up for the win. While the crowd blindly chants for some APPLE DOUGH, Mick Foley comes running out, only to get slammed in the face by Edge a few times. Poor Mick. The guy has way more catchphrases than Edge and he’s STILL not going to win it.

Edge: Oh, and Mick. About that Hardcore match you offered last week? Well, get ready because I’m the Innovator of Violence!

Lita: The last thing you innovated was Marshmallow Toast.

Edge: Ok, I’m the Innovator of Breakfast!

Lita: Hmm…you may be onto something there…

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Entering the Hall of Fame this year? Mrs. Yamaguchi. It’s about damn time!

Alexis Laree is gushing about all this to Trish.

Alexis Laree: I mean “Choppy Choppy you pee pee?” I GOTTA love that if I’m any sort of self respecting lesbian, am I right?

Trish Stratus: Look, I realize that if the Oscars taught us anything it’s that being gay and overtly racist are the keys to success in Hollywood, but that doesn’t mean it’ll buy you any favors from me. Especially not when you flood my text message box with links to videos of Jennifer Garner falling over. I don’t care, ok?

Alexis: But Orton won! What a depressing bitch you turned out to be. Geez. Raven was more fun than you. Friggin’ Raven!

Trish: Yeah, well, why don’t you go hang out with him? I’m about tired of this lesbian game. Dammit, I wish I could quit you, Alexis.

Alexis: Wanna make out?

Trish: Sigh. I guess.

So they do. Aw.

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Big Show beals Cena into the third row to start. That’s always a good move. It’s not really distracting to me that they’re calling this a Wrestlemania rewind. I remember their match from Wrestlemania XX. But they’re STILL calling it a “WWF Wrestlemania Rewind” which is just silly. This is just a plain old WWE one, folks. Did anyone else catch Nunzio trying to knock out Howie Mandell earlier? At about the halfway point, Triple H comes down to make sure that Cena doesn’t do anything stupid. He better know by now that with only a few weeks to go before Mania, you better have things under control, or Hunter is going to make sure you job out worse than Funaki on a Tuesday after he’s through with you. Cena, however, is nonplussed. After all, Hunter can’t see him!

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Carlito and Masters try to get their heads together enough to run out and take down Show, but Kane lumbers after them and drags them backstage by their ears. Yeah, let’s try not to have midcard run-ins during out main events, please. Hunter has his sledgehammer for some reason. Maybe it really is all just subliminal advertising for Peter Gabriel? Show goes up top, which is never a good idea, really, and Cena catches him coming off for the FU. Hunter is suitably impressed. Cena doesn’t take no obesities from nobody. Hunter is just about to congratulate Cena for his great poise in a victory over a fellow face, but then Cena picks up the Spinnin’ World Title and holds it aloft, leaving a seething Hunter trying to figure out the best way to smash that thing into billion pieces in 27 days.

Next Week: Shane McMahon slips Red Hot Sauce into Shawn’s turkey sandwich. Big Show will review Masters’ cookbook by eating every item in it, and then the book. Plus, Triple H buys Cena a pair of Wrestling boots, and then taps his foot expectantly.

See you…THEN!