FLOYD: ...Who have yet to come up with a catchy name for the two of them!

The relative serenity and order of the USXWF arena is torn open by "The Story Of The Man Who Went Out Shooting", by The Tiger Lillies. Johnathan Ayudaren and Islington Standish come out, accompanied by red and blue pyrotechnics, dressed in loose excercise pants and light shoes. The crowd gives them a mixed reaction, but the two of them pay them little heed. They climb into the ring and begin bouncing off the ropes and stretching their limbs in anticipation of the match.

TETE: We're finally going to see what these two are made of. They've been quite vocal over the past couple weeks.

FLOYD: Maybe they keep in shape by playing croquet or rugby.

The music dies down, and the lights dim to purple. A small trickle of smoke drifts out under the Abbottron as Four Star Mary's "Pain" pumps out over the sound system. Odium and Angst appear, Odium full of his usual energy, while Angst drags his feet and keeps his head bowed, as always. The two head down to the ring, where they decide that Angst would be the first to wrestle, while Standish would be the first of the Gentlemen to fight.

The bell rings, and they face off. Angst just kind of stares straight ahead, while Standish dances around, waiting for some action. After a few minutes, he darts forward, intending for a power maneuver, but Angst ducks and rolls out of the way.

Standish doesn't stop, but bounces off the ropes and hurls back at Angst, but again Angst manages to duck away. Standish again bounces off the opposite ropes, but this time, Angst leaps up and plants a drop-kick right into Standish's chest. Standish falls, and Angst climbs atop the turnbuckle. As he prepares to leap off, Standish gets back up to his knees. Angst jumps, going for a full-body splash, but Standish swings his arm up and delivers an uppercut to Angst's head as he comes down. Angst ricochets off and plops to the mat.

TETE: Holy Hell, that's the kind of thing that can shatter your skull!

FLOYD: Or your fingers. Maybe he's got a cyborg hand, like that dude in Terminator 2.

TETE: You mean Arnold Schwarzennegar?

FLOYD: No! The other dude! Big, buff... funny accent... said "Hasta la Vista, baby"...

TETE: That was Arnold Schwarzennegar.

FLOYD: Don't you think I know who Arnold Schwarzennegar is?!? I mean that OTHER dude!

TETE: Oh, the OTHER dude, right...

Standish pulls Angst to his feet, then hoists him onto his shoulders... then slams him back down to the mat. Angst lies prone, while Odium slaps his hand, begging for a tag. Standish again pulls Angst to his feet, wraps his arm around Angst's head, and lifts him up into a suplex. As Angst's body comes back down, his foot hits Odium's hand. The ref calls it as a legal tag, and Odium jumps into the ring and rushes at Standish. He plants a clothesline across Standish's chest, and Standish falls.

FLOYD: I don't know if a foot-to-hand tag is legal, Papa.

TETE: The ref called it, Floyd, so it's as legal as Florida ballots.

FLOYD (pauses): That doesn't say much.

Odium begins kicking at Standish's gut, causing the shorter man to curl up into a fetal position. The force of Odium's attack pushes Standish into the corner, and Odium uses the opportunity to haul Standish to his feet and prop him against the turnbuckle, where he switches tactics from kicks to punches.

TETE: Standish is getting completely worked over here!

After a few moments, Standish manages to swing a punch at Odium. The two trade punches for a bit, but Standish begins to regain momentum, and eventually he starts pushing Odium away. Odium, finding himself in the center of the ring, snags ahold of Standish's fist and whips him into the opposite corner, and follows up with a shoulder charge into Standish's shoulder blades. Both men fall to the mat. Standish crawls towards his partner and makes the tag.

FLOYD: Let's see if Agrarian, or whatever his name is...

FLOYD: ...Is any better than his short friend.

TETE: What a reversal! Odium's got some amazing hand-eye coordination!

FLOYD: Maybe he spent his youth playing video games... like me!

TETE: The Suicide Splash! Angst's favorite move!

FLOYD: Aw, that was weak... weak, I say, weak!

TETE: Odium and Angst pick up the win! Too bad for the Gentlemen, but they made an excellent showing their first time around.

FLOYD: Maybe they just suck.

TETE: They just need more experience, Floyd, that's all.

FLOYD: Or maybe they just suck.

Standish steps into the ring and checks his partner, then he holds out his hand to Odium and Angst as they begin to depart the ring. Odium stops and stares at Standish for a few moments, then he clasps hands with Standish before turning away and heading back up the ramp.

TETE: Well, if nothing else, the Gentlemen are true... er... gentlemen.

FLOYD: That's right, Papa, they ARE nothing else!

TETE: You're just jealous you don't look as good in a tuxedo.

FLOYD:  Actually, I'm jealous that I was never in a Monty Python movie.

"Testify" hits and Jimmy Steele comes out to some pretty good-sized heel heat. He plays to the crowd, screaming at them and making obscene gestures.

TETE: My goodness, Jimmy Steele is in rare form for this European title matchup.

FLOYD: Wow! I didn't know there was a symbol for THAT word!

Steele climbs into the ring and begins screaming and beating his fists against his head a la Ken Shamrock. Avron LongArm's music hits, and the Hiroshima Wonder appears at the top of the ramp, calm as always, walking slowly down the ramp, hood over his head, belt in his hand.

TETE: This kid LongArm is one of the most impressive youngsters in the USXWF.

FLOYD: I don't see what's so impressive about him, Papa.

TETE: How about his impeccable physical skills and his sense of honor?

FLOYD: You mean his sense of loserism? Can't be honorable in pro wrestling, Papa.

TETE: Well, Avron LongArm is proving you wrong, Floyd. And by the way, there's no such word as "loserism".

LongArm climbs to the top turnbuckle, calmly flips into the ring to a pop from the crowd, and removes his robe. He hands his belt to the referee. Jimmy Steele takes the opportunity to sneak up on LongArm from behind and grab him in a sleeper hold.

TETE: A submission move from Jimmy Steele?!

LongArm flips Jimmy over his shoulders and plants a foot squarely on Steele's neck.

TETE: Well, not a very good one apparently.

LongArm takes his foot off of Steele's neck and allows the angry ogre to rise. Steele charges LongArm again. LongArm sidesteps him and Steele's cranium smashes into the steel turnbuckle behind LongArm. LongArm grabs Steele by the scruff of the neck and hauls him out from between the ropes, then hits him with a swinging neckbreaker and a pin. 1...2... Steele kicks out and quickly gets to his feet, but LongArm is already up and hits Steele with a quick roundkick-heelkick combo, then a spinning backkick. Steele stumbles back into the ropes, then wisely uses the situation to his advantage, coming back with a clothesline that lays LongArm out.

TETE: It's refinement vs. force, finesse vs. brute strength!

FLOYD: Loserism vs. asskickossity!

TETE: Floyd, there's no such word as asskickossity!

FLOYD: Not in your dictionary, maybe. But I own the Christian and Edge abridged thesaurus.

Steele gets LongArm up by the hair and gives him an atomic drop, followed up with a pin. Steele gets his feet on the ropes for leverage.

TETE: Look at that! That's cheating, Floyd! Blatant cheating!

FLOYD: Totally reeks of heely goodness!

The ref catches Steele using the ropes and admonishes him. Steele gets in the ref's face. LongArm grabs Steele from behind and hits him with a reverse DDT, then puts him into his submission maneuver, the LongArm Stretch (sorry Willie, I couldn't find the name of it). Steele is screaming and reaching for the ropes.

TETE: LongArm's got him finished!

FLOYD: Not yet, not yet! He's still got a real good chance!

Suddenly, Avron is hit in the face by a flying cup of steaming hot coffee! He breaks the hold and grabs his face in agony. Steele gets up and hits LongArm with a Samoan Drop, then goes for a pin. 1...2... LongArm kicks out!

TETE: What the hell-? How can Avron kick out after that vicious attack with the coffee?

FLOYD: Yeah, who threw that? Came out of the audience, didn't it?

LongArm bounces off the ropes and, flying blind, hits Steele with flying head scissors! Steele goes down hard, and Avron climbs to the top turnbuckle and hits him with a bizarre aerial maneuver that ends in a rollup pin!

TETE: That's a catapult senton somersault into a rollup pin! My God, I've only seen Mikey Whipwreck and Eddie Guerrero use that move!

1...2...3! Avron LongArm retains!

TETE: Coming back from an attack with a cup of coffee of all things, Avron LongArm pulls off the victory, and boy, is Jimmy Steele angry!

Steele is stomping around the ring, shouting at the ref and at LongArm. LongArm merely leaves the ring and begins to walk away. Another cup of coffee sails his way, but misses by a mile this time. LongArm turns around and spies Angst in the audience, drinking from another cup. LongArm sends Angst a furious look, then gestures to the back. Angst smiles and shakes his head, then mouths, "Warbash". LongArm nods.

TETE: Angst! That was Angst throwing the coffee!

FLOYD: Well, of course! Who'd you think it was?

TETE: Looks like these two are gonna settle it at Warbash on December 7th, folks!

FLOYD: And in the meantime, Avron's gonna get his robe drycleaned.

TETE: How do you think Malice is going to feel about his brother's latest bad behavior?

FLOYD: Probably ground him. Take away the car keys. No TV for a week, something like that.

TETE: That's kind of a belittling statement, don't you think?

FLOYD: No, no, no, Papa, you don't understand. Malice's family is like those kids on that show "Party of Five". No parents, so Malice is like their father. He has to discipline them.

TETE: "Party of Five", huh?

FLOYD: Yeah! For instance, did you see the one where Bailey has a drinking problem, so Charlie has to...

Floyd trails off as Tete gives him a funny look.

FLOYD: Not that I ever ... uh ... watched it ... y'know ... I just ... uhm ... read TV Guide a lot?

Tete's funny look doesn't go away.

TETE: Anyway, our next match is a biggie... wait a minute... we've got an announcement from the back...

The camera fades in on Doctor Langler busily pacing back and forth in his office as R.F. Quenton enters the room.

R.F.: You called, Doctor Langler?

LANGLER: Has anyone seen the Reverend Spank? I went to check on him in the medical facilities and he was not in his bed and no one has seen him.

R.F: Not to my knowldege, but the Gatekeeper is also missing. I'll tell people to keep their eyes open for them.

The camera fades out on the Abbottron and Papa Tete begins to speak.

TETE: And we're back folks. We have a series of great matches tonight but none will compare in brutality with the one we have coming up next: the flaming scaffold match between Fate and the Harbinger!

FLOYD: Oh, come on, Papa! I don't think that the match will be that great.

TETE: Oh good lord, I don't know why I'm asking this but why is that, Floyd?

FLOYD: It's simple. Since two objects of the same mass cannot occupy the same space at any one given time, and since Fate and Harbinger are essentially the same thing, they'll just combine into one entity and combust! It's a law of physics.

TETE: Floyd, have you been smoking that powder I caught saw you with earlier?

FLOYD: And I keep telling you that my Pixie-stix ruptured and I had to put it all in baggy.

TETE: And that's about as believe able as Walter McGeegan. At any rate, for those of you who are joining us for the pay-per-view and not part of our usual viewing audience.

::from off camera Floyd's voice:: Losers! ::followed by a loud smacking sound.

TETE: Fate and the Harbinger have been at each other since nearly both of their first nights with the USXWF. Their monster-sized rivalry reached a climax when Reverend Spank, Fate's manager, spilled acid on the Gatekeeper's face, inciting the Harbinger into a rage in which he choke slammed the elder Spank off of the stage through a set of tables before. After the match, it was announced that Spank was in a coma and the two have been at each other since. And earlier tonight it was discovered that the good reverend was missing from the medical facilities here in the arena, driving Fate to an absolute fury. If tonight's match is going to be anything, it's going to be brutal, savage, and absolutely horrific.

FLOYD: You know what, Papa, I think I know where Spank went?

TETE: I'm going to be fired for just asking but what?

FLOYD: Well, has anyone bothered to check outside? I mean, the geaser has been out for weeks and he's really old, he might've forgotten where the ring was.

TETE: ...Floyd, you are one of the-

FLOYD: I know, I know, most moronic people you know.

As Papa Tete finishes, the arena lights darken and a single bell tolls out as a dark shape emerges from beneath the Abbottron. The opening for Metallica's "For Whom the Bell Tolls" peals from the speakers as the dark shape walks down the ramp, flames lighting up each side of him to the popping of the audience. The song reaching the opening guitar, the figure stops in the middle of the ring and a spotlight reigns down on Fate, who throws out his arms to either side of him. The lights go on, the flames go out, and the crowd still continues to cheer as the massive giant climbs the rope ladder in the center of the stage up into the scaffolding above.

Just then "Super Beast" by Rob Zombie pumps out of speaker's and the crowd pops as the solo Harbinger walks down from beneath the Abbottron, an angry look across his face as he searches the crowds. He climbs up into the ring and begins the prodigous assent to scaffolding above. As he reaches the top, the scaffolding sways slighly from the two immense individuals atop it.

Sparing no time, the two combatants immediately race to each other and begin to tie up, each punching, elbowing, and slapping the other. A fist square to the nose causes Fate to stagger backwards but manages to loop his arm in the Harbingers and spin him up and around for a slam.

Fate begins to kick the Harbinger in the ribs, attempting to knock him off of the scaffolding in order to win. The Harbinger manages to sit up and catch one of Fate's feet from a sitting position, only to have the other land squarely in his face, laying him out. Fate picks him up and with a silent snarl of fury, scoop slams him back down on the now swaying scaffolding.

Fate takes several steps backwards and tenses as if he is about to race forward when the railing to either side of him bursts into flame, causing him to start and take several more hesitant steps backwards. Taking advantage of the situation, the Harbinger get's to his feet and nails Fate with a Ninth Gate (running chokeslam). Harbinger stands above him, pointing down at the silent giant, shouting something before landing a nasty legdrop across Fate's throat. Fate shoots up to a sitting position, holding his throat, only to have his head slammed back down onto the wooden floor by the Harbinger.

The Harbinger again points down at Fate and shouts something again at Fate before pulling Fate to his feet and whipping him into the flaming railing, causing scorch marks to spread across Fate's robes, then slamming him into the other to burn the other side. Fate's face screams silently and grabs the Harbinger, doing the same to him before planting a foot squarely into the Harbinger's chest, knocking him onto his back several feet away. Fate staggers back slightly, holding his burned chest as the Harbinger get's up and both met race at each other, trying to clothesline each other, and end up taking each other out in the process, landing so heavily that the scaffolding audibly groans with the impacts.

Unknown by the two combatants high above the arena floor, the crowd pops as the Gatekeeper walks out from under the Abbottron. He pauses, looking back, and the crowd pops even later as he is joined by the Reverend Spank, both looking at each other with a look of...friendship.

The two giants slowly get to their feet and stagger towards each other, locking their hands on the others' throat. They stagger back and forth, running each other into the parts of the scaffolding that are on fire as they try to throw each other off of the scaffolding. Neither sees their managers below them. They both brace against one railing, ignoring the heat and pain as their clothes burn, both lost in trying to throw the other to the floor below.

Reverend Spank raises his mic to his lips: Fate, I command you to stop!

Likewise, the Gatekeeper does the same: Harbinger, stop this.

Both wrestlers pause, their eyes widen almost comically for such serious individuals before they both move to look over the railing, still maintaing their deathgrips on the other's throat.

SPANK: Come down here you two, we have a lot to discuss.

GATEKEEPER: Yes, come down here now. This needs to end.

The two wrestlers look back from their managers to each other, then back to their managers when suddenly a dark shape swings out of the catwalks on a rope and nails both wrestlers in the back with a vicious flying kick. Both Fate and Harbinger attempt to grab the railling but miss, flying through the air to land on the mat below with loud, dull thuds.

Above them, a man in black tights with blue cards on his thighs looks down on the two wrestlers as he drops a card down from the scaffolding before climbing back up his rope to the catwalks above. The card lands between Fate and the Harbinger as their respective managers attempt to help them up, the card being Death.

FLOYD: Wow, Papa, have you ever seen such collasal jackasses duke it out like a pair of oversized wombats? That’s frickin’ amazing!

TETE: Gee, Floyd, we were so taken by your utter sincerity up until the use of the word "frickin’." I can’t imagine anyone who would want you as their spokesman.

FLOYD: Gosh Durnit! "Frickin’" you say, eh? I’ll have to remember that.

TETE: Folks, pay no mind to Floyd, he keeps a strict diet of paint chips for just such an occasion. Coming up, we’ve got one of the most anticipated matches of the night.

FLOYD: Yeah, anticipated, not because we give darn about the wrestlers, but because we’re gonna finally get rid of that music, that horrible music!

TETE: That’s right Floyd, our next match is Trent Valentine against La Parka in an "I Quit" match. Now, keep in mind if La Parka wins, he has to get rid of his entrance music, "Hit me baby . . .

FLOYD: DON’T SAY IT! Didn’t you see Beetlejuice? If you say her name, she’ll appear out of nowhere, which wouldn’t be too bad, but SHE DOESN’T HAVE A MUTE BUTTON!

TETE: [sighing, then muttering under his breath] They just don’t pay me enough for this. Anyway, the special stipulation for this match is a guest referee, but not just anyone, one of the Founding Five himself, and said to be the most sporadic in his tastes and alliances, Brandon Schmidt.

As if on cue, "Disco Inferno" hits and a sudden blast of white pyros shoot out from the stage. The lights dim and a giant disco ball is lowered over the arena, lighting the entire audience with its oh so silly light. At the top of the ramp is Brandon Schmidt, dressed in full referee regalia and escorting a beautiful woman down to the ring with him. She is dressed in a low-cut, short dress made from purple and white sequins arranged in stripes of three purple, then a white and so on. Her makeup is overdone, her attire is overdone, her hair is overdone: everything about her screams: DISCO!

As the get to the ring to a huge pop and some awkward, horribly executed dancing in the aisles, "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" by [censored] hits to a round of boos and jeers. La Parka, with his custom-made chair and special leather scabbard, comes to the entranceway with a mic and gives the audience a piece of his mind.

LA PARKA: You dare boo I, La Parka? Fools, I call you, and yet again, I call you fools, for I, La Parka, will be triumphant in this match! I, La Parka will be victorious over the greatest fool of them all! When I, La Parka, last laid eyes on a woman, I, La Parka, demanded she birth my child. Unfortunately, she attempted to call the police, so I had to share with her the wisdom of my holy chair shot. It was then that I, La Parka, and she, some woman, made another of I, La Parka’s many children! Any man who would treat a woman otherwise, I, La Parka, call a fool!"

With this, La Parka is in the ring, the ref asking him to put his chair in the corner. "You Give Love A Bad Name" hits and Trent Valentine comes out to a huge round of yawns and people being generally uninterested. Instead of respond at length, he simply says...

TRENT: Hey, she was pretty, I’ll show you!

...And charges into the ring. As he stands up, he meets the fists of La Parka at full velocity, setting him up for a whip into the ropes. La Parka plans a shoulder block, but Trent comes charging into him, knocking down the smaller man. La Parka quickly gets to his feet, executing a drop toe-hold as Trent charges in. As he gets up, Trent is battered into the corner by the fists of La Parka. La Parka punches, he kicks, he beats Trent until he falls to the ground. Taking advantage of this, La Parka rushes giddily to the other corner and runs toward Trent’s prone form, sliding at the last minute and connecting full on with both feet in Trent’s crotch.

TETE: A nasty baseball slide right into Trent Valentine, things are looking pretty good for La Parka.

FLOYD: Well, at least he’s doing something productive. I don’t want to imagine any Little Johnny Valentines running around, and he sure took care of that!

La Parka raises his hands in victory, only to be met with loud boos from the crowd. As he nears the corner opposite Trent in his victory parade, he suddenly looks out over the audience with a startled look spread wide across his face. He yells at the referee and points to the crowd. Schmidt looks, confused and unsure what La Parka was pointing to as La Parka quickly grabs his custom-made steel folding chair, hits Trent over the head twice, then puts the chair down gently outside the ring.

TETE: What?! That’s cruel! La Parka, through treachery, seems to have this match firm in hand. I can’t believe Schmidt fell for that!

FLOYD: I dunno, Papa, I think Brandon was stealing some glances at the Abbottron.

TETE: Are you suggesting that one of the Founding Five and the most vocal against La Parka’s music is being partial and allowing La Parka to win? That’s ridiculous!

FLOYD: I dunno, Papa . . . I’ve got this feeling, and its not indigestion! 

Hoisting Trent up, he slams him into the center of the ring with a powerful scoop slam and climbs the turnbuckle. Looking out toward the audience, he executes a perfect Moonsault, landing on Trent and doing further damage to the lumbering hulk. La Parka climbs to the turnbuckle again, ready to execute another move when Trent gets up, stumbling. He quickly moves over to the turnbuckle and grabs La Parka for a nasty powerslam. As he propels him down toward the mat, La Parka’s hands touch the mat and he reverses it into a hurricanrana.

TETE: It’s all over! Nothing can stop La Parka now!

FLOYD: NO! Nonononono! You idiot! Stop winning! Stop it right now! Read my lips: L-O-S-E . . . loser!

Hearing this, La Parka, angry, charges out of the ring and rushes up to Floyd, intent on causing him bodily harm. At the last second, Floyd reaches under the announcer’s table and pulls out a steaming Churro, handing it to La Parka and smiling. As La Parka is eating this, Floyd reaches again under the table and pulls out a small child who apparently recognizes La Parka. La Parka quickly finishes his Churro and puts the little boy next to the ring, pointing to the slowly moving form of Trent Valentine. Slowly Trent gets up as La Parka again climbs the turnbuckle. Trent finally rises to his feet, only to be met by a Tornado DDT. Trent looks like he has no more energy left.

La Parka quickly puts him in a nasty Boston Crab, Trent struggling against the pain. Trent screams in pain, trying with all his might to resist. As he is about to submit, the speakers come to life again and the lights dim. The first bass riff of "Stayin’ Alive" pulses over the speakers as colored lights play across the audience. The audience starts clapping to the music, and Schmidt, instead of looking at Valentine, goes to the center of the ring, beckoning the woman he escorted who struts out to the music, circles him once, keeping eye contact, then stops suddenly in front of him, grabs his ref shirt and rips it off! Schmidt’s entire referee outfit comes off, revealing a leisure suit made entirely of tiny pieces of mirror.

La Parka looks up in horror, no longer worried about Trent, who lies there unconscious. Schmidt keeps eye contact with him for a brief second before snapping to his partner’s eyes. Suddenly, lights flood the mat, reflecting off of Schmidt and his partner as if they were disco balls. She advances and they begin the smoothest Hustle anyone has seen on television since the seventies, maybe not even then. He leads her seamlessly through free turns, reversals and slides. The audience roars its approval in one of the biggest pops of the night.

La Parka is not pleased. The look of sheer horror that crosses Floyd’s face at his music is now mirrored on La Parka’s. He drops Trent. He gets up. His jaw is slack. After the first verse is through, he can take no more. La Parka flees the ring, leaving his chair, his sheath and his kid all at ringside. As he runs in mortal terror, the camera zooms in on his frantic yelling of "I QUIT! I QUIT! I, LA PARKA, QUIT! MAKE IT STOOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!!!!"

Schmidt and his partner laugh La Parka out of the ring and Schmidt leads his partner back up the ramp. At the Abbottron, the both suddenly whip around to the audience and pose, more white pyros shooting from behind them.

FLOYD: DISCO LIVES!!! SCHMIDT IS GOD!!!!

Valentine gets up, confused after the music stops and walks up the ramp.