Weekend Warbash

We open with a shot of United Center in Chicago, Illinois, and the sound of Poppa Tete's voice starting the show.

TETE: Welcome to the Windy City, and welcome to TNT for November 7th! We have a huge night of competition for you tonight, including four title defenses and an inferno match!

We cut to the inside of the United Center, where a sold-out crowd holds up numerous signs of varying degrees of cleverness.

JO KIRIN FOR PRESIDENT!
RIP YOKOZUNA
THE ICON ISN'T FINISHED YET
SCOTT RAYE HEEDS THE CALL OF SHIVA
DIVINE INTERVENTION!
THE FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE IS UPON US

We cut to a shot of Poppa Tete and Floyd behind the announce table. Floyd is wearing a red, white and blue top hat, and a "Choose or Lose" button.

FLOYD: The nation is in chaos, Poppa! We're the only ones who can provide a dispirited and oppressed populace their entertainment!

TETE: I'd hardly say the country is in THAT much trouble, Floyd. In fact, if anything, I think this past week has proven that America doesn't actually NEED a president.

FLOYD: Electing our country's leaders is serious business, Poppa. Who'd you vote for?

TETE: Well, I don't have to tell you that, Floyd, and it's rather rude of you to ask.

FLOYD: Well, I hope you voted for Walter McGeegan.

TETE: I thought Walter McGeegan didn't exist.

FLOYD: He doesnt! But Gore has a near nonexistent presence anyway, and Bush's intelligence level is near 0. So Walter McGeegan actually combines the intelligence of George Dubya and the dynamic speaking talents of Al Gore!

TETE: Because he doesn't exist?

FLOYD: Right.

TETE: Were you dropped as a baby?

FLOYD: So many times.

TETE: Whatever. We've got other business at hand tonight, Floyd. Scott Raye hit Steve Roman with a steel chair last week, and I just can't figure out why.

FLOYD: Maybe he got sick of Roman's constant posturing for the title.

TETE: Or maybe somebody put the idea in his head.

FLOYD: And who would that be?

TETE: Who else? C-Cube, obviously!

FLOYD: That's dirty campaigning, Poppa. As you well know, there was no controlling legal authority present in that ring when Scott Raye hit Roman.

TETE: Yes there was! Roman was the ref!

FLOYD: He did not have sexual relations with that woman!

TETE: What woman? Are you on drugs?

"Run" by Pink Floyd hits and Scott Raye comes down to the ring, the Lineman by his side. The crowd's reaction is mixed, some boos, some cheers.

TETE: Well, here comes Raye now! He looks pretty upset, Floyd.

Raye is indeed near tears.

FLOYD: Well, of course he is! He must feel a lot of remorse. I don't know why. I know I wouldn't. But then, Raye is a wimp, and wimps cry a lot.

Raye gets in the ring and accepts the mic handed to him by the ring announcer.

RAYE: I just wanted to come out here right off the bat and make some apologies. I don't know what came over me last week. One minute I was fine, and the next I was hitting the only authority figure in the ring with a steel chair! Rules and discipline are so important in this sport, and I soiled that tradition, and I am truly sorry for it. I'd like to apologize first to the fans, who I'm sure were quite unhappy with me.

A chorus of boos goes up at this.

RAYE: Yes, I know. I know. I deserve that. I'm sorry. I'd also like to apologize to my friend and tag team partner, who is here in the ring with me, supporting me, as he has been for the past week, the Lineman. I embarassed you, sir. You who have taught me so much in the time we have worked together, which isn't long, but all the same, my remorse is deep. I promise you you will never be sorry you chose me as your friend and partner ever again.

The Lineman nods and mouths, "It's okay."

RAYE: My next apology goes to Mr. C-Cube, whose match I ruined with my actions last night.

Lots of heat for C-Cube's name.

RAYE: Yes, yes, I know, I deserve that too. I know that the disqualification took place before the "incident", but I can't help but feel that if I'd been a better opponent, it never would have happened at all. I promise you, Mr. C-Cube, if you decide to bless me with a title shot again, I will be up to the challenge.

TETE: Well, I thought Raye certainly gave as good as he got.

FLOYD: Oh, please. He was getting his rear end handed to him.

RAYE: I made my apology to the Founding Five earlier this afternoon, but I'd just like to reiterate it here by saying how sorry I am and how it will never, ever happen again. This is my dream, and I want to succeed, so please don't let one moment of foolishness ruin my career, sirs. And my final apology goes to the gentleman - and I do mean gentleman - that I hit with that steel chair last Tuesday ... Mr. Steve Roman.

The crowd pops.

RAYE: Mr. Roman, words cannot express the anguish I have felt over the past week at what I did. All the waters in all the seas in the world do not ... uhm ... equal the tears I've cried at the thought of my actions. I am truly sorry, sorrier than I've ever been for anything in my - in my-

Raye begins to sob quietly. The Lineman takes over.

LINEMAN: I think everyone here understands what Scott means.

"Sad but True" hits and Roman appears at the top of the ramp, the Roman Empire behind him.

TETE: Maybe not everyone, Lineman.

FLOYD (mockingly): Business is about to pick up, right, Poppa?

TETE (acid in his voice): Yes, Floyd. Business is about to pick up.

Roman begins to walk down the ramp.

ROMAN: Scott, your apology is not accepted.

The crowd pops.

ROMAN: I thought you were a good kid. A little green, a little naive, but basically okay. I don't think so anymore. I'll tell you what I think. I think you're damaged goods, kid. I think C-Cube and his boys got you and got you good. I think they've got you so confused you don't know whether to shit or go blind. And I think you're about a week away from shaving your head and, as Malice put it, "dancing the hula". That means nothing you say is worth a damn thing to me or these guys behind me. We've heard it all before. Now, Lineman, before I go any further, I'm not sure where you stand. You with the Servants or you with us? Ain't no middle ground, son.

LINEMAN: I'm not with the Servants and neither is Scott.

ROMAN: I don't care how many Heismans you won, you're dumb as a post. Too much football without a helmet? Your boy is lost. Gone. You get it?

LINEMAN: He's not with the Servants. He made a mistake. Give him a break, he's just a kid.

ROMAN: Well, I guess I got my answer then. Tonight then, Scott Raye and the Lineman, you will go up against one of the two toughest damn tag teams in the business!

TETE: Oh my God! But Dino Fischetti's already got a match tonight!

ROMAN: Since my boy Dino already has an appointment, it's gonna be the other toughest team. You two against me and James Sharp!

FLOYD: What?! That's insane!

The crowd pops. Scott Raye shakes his head sadly and the Lineman leans up against the ropes.

LINEMAN: Fine. If that's the only way Scott can make this up to you, it's what we'll do.

ROMAN: Yeah. Right. Oh, and Scott ... your friends in the robes make an appearance, and it's only gonna be harder for you, understand?

Raye's head suddenly shoots up and there's a strange look in his eyes we haven't seen before as he takes the mic from the Lineman.

RAYE: Enough talking, Roman. Bring your idle threats and empty words to the ring tonight, and let a higher power decide your fate.

Roman nods as though he knew it all along. The look in Raye's eyes fades and he seems to shrink back to being the naive kid.

RAYE (in a small voice): That is ... may the best man win.

The Roman Empire and Scott Raye and the Lineman exit the ring.

TETE: What the hell is going on with Scott Raye? He's sounding more and more like one of the Servants of Shiva every time he opens his mouth!

FLOYD: Maybe he's having a spiritual crisis.

TETE: Or maybe Roman is right. Maybe C-Cube's already halfway to getting him.

FLOYD: Commercial time!

TETE: Okay. Be right back with the defense of the Hardcore Title.

COMMERCIAL FOR BLOOD & GOLD.

TETE: Blood & Gold is going to be utterly insane, Floyd.

FLOYD: Really? In that case, I'd better bring along my supply of Ritalin.

TETE: You take medication?

FLOYD: It's not my medication. I steal it from old ladies while they wait for the bus.

TETE: You truly are a deplorable creature, Floyd. You may love the next match coming up... Dino Fischetti versus the Candyman!

P.O.D.'s "Southtown" pumps through the arena. The lights dim, and a trickling jet of smoke creeps across the stage and down the ramp. Dino comes out, dressed in his standard ankle-length black coat and wraparound reflective sunglasses. A cigarette adorns his vicious grin as he walks cooly and evenly down to the ring. He slides under the ropes and takes up position in the center of the ring. The referee comes over and tells him to put out his cigarette. Dino spits the cigarette out at the ref, and it bounces off his shirt and to the mat, throwing off a small flare of sparking ash. Dino steps on the cig and kicks the remains out of the ring.

The music is replaced by "Lollipop" by Aqua. The difference in the musical styles is quite jarring, and Dino whips his head up in annoyance. Mr. Mint stands silhouetted underneath the Abbottron, then takes a few steps forward as the music picks up. He tosses a few generic candies to the crowd, then turns around with his white-gloved hand outstretched towards the entrance. Candyman walks into view, waving his arms to the audience.

Before Candyman and Mr. Mint can head down to the ring, Dino grabs a mic...

DINO: If the guys in the sound booth don't cut that [beep]in' music, I'm gonna head up there and beat you all within an inch of your life!!

The music fades out with a stereotypical "weeeoooop" sound.

DINO: That's better. Now listen up, Crappyman... I'm sure you're a nice guy. But I don't like you. You're all jollies and smiles and bull[beep], and it's all [beep]in' annoying. Now, I'm a nice guy. I really am. So I'm gonna offer you a deal... you forfeit the [beep]in' match right now, and I'll let you and your fruity-ass decrepit manager off without a beating.

Candyman furrows his brow, obviously taken by surprise at Dino taking to the mic. He leans over the edge of the stage and grabs a mic from a ringside assistant.

CANDYMAN: Forfeit... to you?

Dino nods slowly. Candyman grins, showing his perfect teeth and million-dollar winning smile.

CANDYMAN: Is that what the audience wants?

A resounding "BOOO!" of disapproval comes from the audience.

CANDYMAN: You think they'd much rather see us two duke it out?

A huge pop from the crowd. Numerous Candyman (and, admittedly, Dino Fischetti) signs pop up in the audience.

CANDYMAN: It seems that the audience has spoken. Let's just be thankful that they're not a Florida crowd...

Candyman turns to Mr. Mint and they exchange a few words. A few seconds later, Mint turns aroud and heads backstage.

FLOYD: Is Mr. Mint chickening out?

TETE: Probably not... he IS the referee for a match later this evening.

FLOYD: Dammit, and he NEVER GIVES ME ANY CANDY!!!

TETE: Calm down, Floyd, I think you have too much sugar in your system already.

As soon as Mr. Mint is gone, Candyman rushes down to the ring. Dino tosses off his jacket and glasses into the corner. Candyman slides into the ring, and the two immediately begin trading punches, alternating between shots to the chest, gut, and head. Dino, bigger, stronger, and more accustomed to street fights, quickly backs Candyman into a corner, where he continues the relentless barrage of fisticuffs (and a few kicks thrown into the works).

TETE: Holy Hell, not even Mike Tyson can deliver such powerful blows.

FLOYD: Well, ol' Mike would be too busy raping his girlfriends and chomping off ears, don't you think?

TETE: Floyd, that is a horrible thing to say.

FLOYD: But it's the truth!

TETE: I never said it wasn't true, I just said it was horrible.

Dino's assault leaves Candyman leaning up against the ropes. Dino backs up and rushes forward to splash his body up against Candyman's, but Candyman manages to duck away at the last second. Dino crashes into the turnbuckle, putting the entire force of the impact on his breastbone. He falls to his knees, clutching his chest.

TETE: A huge tactical mistake for Dino Fischetti! Let's see if Candyman can capitalize on it!

FLOYD: Nah, he's a softie. He'll probably want to pick a few flowers or something.

Contrary to Floyd's opinion, Candyman rushes towards Dino and grabs him in a headlock, then quickly suplexes him into the center of the ring. Without any hesitation, Candyman jumps right back up to his feet and climbs atop the turnbuckle and turns to face Dino.

TETE: It looks like we're going to see Candyman's finisher, the Lemon Drop!!

Candyman launches himself into the air, performing a quick flip as he comes down towards Dino, his arms and legs spread wide for a splash. But Dino instinctively rolls out of the way, and Candyman smashes face-first into the ring.

FLOYD: Oh, ouch ouch ouch! That's worse than belly-flopping into a pool!

Dino climbs back up to his feet. He leans against the ropes for a few moments, regaining his strength, before turning back to Candyman. He begins stomping away, and keeps it up for a few moments. His tag-team partner, Big Bald Bitch, runs down the ramp. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his special "sawed-off" baseball bat (essentially, a short club made from cutting the larger half of a bat off, then inserting a steel pipe down the center of the handle).

TETE: Oh, no, this can't be good... every time those two get together, something bad happens.

FLOYD: I see that gleam in his eye... Bitch is up to no good!! Turn around, ref!!

The ref keeps his eyes glued to center of the ring. Dino, seeing his partner ready for the soon-to-come beating, hauls Candyman to his feet and whips him into the ropes. Candyman bounces off, allowing Dino to hook his arm and throw him into the referee. The ref and Candyman both collapse to the mat.

Big Bald Bitch reaches under the ring and grabs a 2 X 4, which he tosses to Dino. Dino brings the board down across Candyman's back a couple times, before hauling him to his feet so BBB can deliver a few shots with his sawed-off bat. Then the two trade off again... BBB holds up Candyman, allowing Dino to swing at his upper thighs and knees.

TETE: Aw, hell, did you hear that? That 2 X 4 is smashing into Candyman's kneecap!

A few moments after the assault begins, BBB notices the referee regaining his clarity. He grabs the board away from Dino and hops out of the ring. Dino drops for a cover on Candyman, just as the referee looks up. He sees the cover and counts to three, making Dino the winner.

FLOYD: That was unfair. Let's call Jesse Jackson and the NAACP!

TETE: What would the NAACP have to do with this?

FLOYD: The National Association for the Advancement of Candy People? Plenty!!

"Southtown" picks up again as Dino retrieves his coat and glasses. He glares at Candyman for a few moments, then heads back up the ramp and disappears under the Abbottron. Candyman comes to a few seconds later and climbs to his feet. He holds his gut in pain, and a small trickle of blood runs down his forehead, and he walks out with a limp, but he still manages to flash his smile to the audience and wave as he exits the arena.

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