(The shot opens to a radio.)
(Well this is a delightful promo. A fricking radio? Are you kidding me? I mean there is a desk that the radio is on. But its not all that nice. It’s just a desk. I mean the radio might be on, but does anyone know for sure?)
Radio: WAKE THE HELL UP AMERICA!
(Well, that answered that question)
Radio: It’s 6:00 AM! AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!
(“Oh yeah” by Yello starts to play.)
Radio: It’s time for action! It’s time to party! It’s time for you to climb aboard…
(“You’re helmet is soooo… big.” – Spaceballs)
Radio: THE BIG SCHTICK!
(“ITS OVER 9000! – Dragonball Z)
Radio: And the man with the plan… “Smart” Mark Johnson!
Voice 2: Welcome all my little parasites, I'm "Smart" Mark Johnson, and you are riding on my "Big Shtick!" You got a beef with me, not a problem. Call me at 1-900-QUIBBLE.
Now before you say, "You're a liar!" let me explain something my little dingle berries. My predictions are of a perfect world. A world where the rivers run with cold beer and the streets are rampant with hot strippers. A world where lunatics with masks and idiot clowns aren't champs, and legend are defined by true work ethic. A world where I get at least three intelligent callers in a show. I may be living in a dream word, but is a lot better then the nightmare of status we have going on in LPW right now.
Ladies and Gentleman, and I use the term because I’m bound by contact not to call you (BLEEP) anymore, we should be on our hands and knees thanking the gods that a man like D. Hammond Samuels has stepped up and taken the reigns of LPW. He has dedicated himself to give us the best DAMN wrestling programming we could ask for week after week. I mean have you seen the competition? One is run by an old man with an permanent orange tan, and the other is dragging ancient wrestlers out the closet of obscurity to pet his own ego. Wake me when Cocoon III is over. So we should be thanking Ham right?
No… I do… You don’t. You curse and boo and yell and do whatever it is lowlifes do and you are egged on… by coincidentally my guest today.
(Sigh.). He will get the last stroke tonight. But lets talk about champions shall we? We are in a downward spiral, and I am not talking about that fruity finisher Edge used to use. First we have the Western States Champ Jude Maxwell. Welcome to Dumbsville, population you! The chairman gives you the world on a platter and you throw it back at him like a cream pie in a Three Stooges movie. Let me inform you of something Hackwell. The only thing that Eddie B has ever passed on to anyone is something that has to be treated with a cream rinse 3 times a day. The only thing you got going for you is an undefeated streak and your gift of gab. Let the boss knock your teeth down your throat and beat ya one time and you’ll be out of here faster than you can say “Swampfox” Kris Marion.
Now we have The Watchmen. *sigh* I think the term “Jesus freaks” were made special for these guys. Here is a reading from the book of Schtick. “And lo, the mimes who sought the Lord came upon the land and cursed it with a plague of boringness and goofy gimmicks and all the people across the land were bored to the point that their eyes flowed with water like the Nile. But hark, the herald angels sung of a true savior who cometh from the Savannah, and he shall smite the wicked and support his faygo swilling idiot of a partner. Thus sayeth the Johnson. Amen”
And of course, big ol’ Styxx. You know something. Walk with me for a moment. You been a Bad Mamma Jamma. You been a Misfit. You been The Phantom of the Opera. And it wasn’t until you rode solo, that you actually became the World Champion. So I have a question? How dumb do you feel man? I mean looking back on your career, you could have been one of the greats. You could have been up there. Instead you fell behind Marty in the top 25 countdown. Marty?!? He’s about as relevant in this business as Stan Staziak and you’re under him. (claps) Good job bro. You better make the most at your time on the chop, because I hear there’s another island of misfit toys looking for another cowboy to ride and ostrich and I hear they have your resume on file.
And as for the TV championship… (Cricket chirps fill the air) But enough about hamandeggers… lets take some calls. Hey Sweet T[BLEEP]ts, you're riding my shtick. It's your dime, spill it!
CALLER: Hey Mark, did you ever get that pay raise from the prez?
MARK: Nah, but I am still making more bread than a bakery... Heh heh! So what's on your mind p[BLEEP]erwood?
CALLER: Well, I was wondering that you did have some extra cash maybe you can buy the new and improved Toyota Prius! Think about the gas mileage that you’ll save.
(An awkward silence fills the air. The radio industry calls this dead air, but the fans of this show call it the calm before the storm. Unbeknownst to the caller, things are about to go from bad to worse.)
CALLER: Uhh hello? Hello?
MARK: Yeah I’m here man. So you stood on hold for 40 minutes to interest me in a car?
CALLER: Not just a car… THE CAR! It’s the Cadillac of hybrids!
MARK: Interesting. Hey, what’s your name man?
CALLER: Mitchell Dren..
MARK: Mitchell buddy… Get really close to your speaker, I wanna whisper something to you.
CALLER: Ok... I'm here!
MARK: Good. [Sigh.] I DON"T NEED ANY G[BLEEP]MN CAR SALESMAN SELLING ME A M[BLEEP]KING PIECE OF S[BLEEP]T CAR ON MY SHOW! ESPECIALLY SOME PIECE OF S[BLEEP] DEFECTED RICE BURNING MOT[BLEEP]ER!
CALLER: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! MY EAR!
MARK: Jesus, we have to start screening these calls. Anyway now its time for the Tidy Bowl flush of the week. (Toilet flushes) This week’s flush goes to Cash Flo. You had it all man. The glitz, the glamour, the fame. And then you got punked like your daddy was Ashton Kutcher. Now you changed your name, hoping that it would hide your w[Bleep]ish ways. Well news flash dude. You can put lipstick on a pig, but it won’t help with your match against SoL! And with that prediction out of the way…
VOICEOVER: And now…. (“Ladies and Gentlemen – Michael Buffer) Its time for (Timpani drum beat) Mr. Johnson’s Picks the winners!
MARK: Thank you omnipotent voice. Now I’m no Jimmy the Greek. I hate everyone regardless of color. So if you make bets on my picks and they don’t win, don’t include me in your suicide letter. Now onto the winners and wieners for this pay per view….
Boston Street Fight
Jeff Watson vs. Bobino
Has Watson ever seen a street fight? I mean I know he played Street Fighter two on his 100 inch big screen back in the day, but come on. The rich kid is going to pick up a garbage can to strike someone and want to have it disinfected first. Bobino takes this one easy in 9:48.
Sheepster vs. cYnical
Ahh the smell of charred lamb kabob. cYnical, while not my favorite lunatic, has a mean streak when motivated. And granted sheepster is his boy, but I have a feeling that the fire will burn this time and we may FINALY be done with seeing this Welsh idiot on our tv screens. Have the fire bridage on hand for this one. cYnnamon toast crunch in 12:33
LPW Idol Television Title Contest
Killswitch vs. Eric Scorpio vs. Atlas Adams vs. St. Jayne Nighthawk vs. Damian Blaze
Well Red has another crazy idea of a match. Hey Doug, remind me to have cYnical on as a guest soon. I have to know how wild Red gets behind closed doors. It’s gotta be like circus style sex. I mean as crazy as she is and the costume and … oh yeah.. Predictions. I like the zombie doing the impression of Eric Scorpio in this match in 8:56.
Teacher vs. Student Match
SoL vs. Nigel Vanderbilt
Let me get my calculator here. Lets see… Time it takes to hit the Jungle kick... Bell time… Athritis factor of the referee… Shock factor…. And… Ahh. SoL take it in 9.4 seconds.
The Holy War
Drew Michaels vs. White Falcon
It’s Jesus vs JEE-SUS-AH in a classic batter of good vs good. Well this is exciting. I mean it would be more interesting if we had an exorcism or a Holy Water Pit fight or a “Loser has to become a Mormon” stipulation, but its literally a fight of two bible thumpers seeing who can out-Christ the other one. Someone tell Red to upgrade this one to a crucifix on a pole match and we can spike some buyrates. But I think Falcon takes this one in 15:39.
Illuminati Rules Match
D. Hammond Samuels vs. Eddie B.
Eddie, the smartest thing you can do in this match is extend your hand out, hope for a sign of peace, and then tap out to the menacing vice grip handshake. Cause that is the only chance you have of coming out of this without looking like Brett Favre after a Saints playoff game. You realize that you got a better chance of coming out of a Pope Fred party without anal leakage than picking up the win here. But because I know you’re a stubborn slod that refuses to realize he’s been beat, give me The Boss in 16:08
Main Event – LPW International Heavyweight Title Triple Threat
Styxx (c) vs. Mass Chaos vs. Krimson Mask
Styxx buddy. Vaya con dios! It would be one thing if it was just Mass Chaos. It would be another thing if it was just Krimson Mask. But the combination of the two and your track record…. Well my friend, I hope you got the other side of that mask because they are bringing ugly back, and it will be all over your face after this mask. Anybody but the Aussie in 24:15.
Okay, time to take another
DIRECTOR: Uhh Mark?
MARK: Yeah what?
DIRECTOR: You forgot a match.
MARK - No I didn't
DIRECTOR: Yes you did!
DIRECTOR: Ultramarcus vs. Son of Repoman Ring a bell?
MARK - Yeah, but you said I forgot a match...
DIRECTOR - You did!
MARK - That isn't a match! It's a bloodbath waiting to happen! Marcus has to win this match otherwise all the glitz and glamour he’s been brought will be pulled from under him and my guest tonight has to be back at the nursing home by 7. So don’t look for anything textbook about this one aside from the autopsy afterwards…
And now, WITHOUT ANYMORE INTERRUPTION! Lets take a call! Hey Sweat S[BLEEP]ks, you're riding my shtick. It's your dime, spill it!
CALLER: Look man you got to help me!
MARK: Shazbot? What the hell do you want?
CALLER: The helper monkey ate my car keys! I need to get out of here!
MARK: What do you want me to do about it?
CALLER: Get me out of here! Hold my calls!
MARK: I'm not your secretary!
CALLER: I got to go! He is trying to tear off my hubcaps! Ahhhh! (Dial tone)
MARK - Uhhh, ok? Fans, a friendly reminder.. Don't Smoke Crack! And now [Sigh] it is time for the Last Stroke! Today, joining is a man that couldn’t find gold if they tied a magnet to his ass and dropped him into Fort Knox. Give it up for Son of Repoman:
(“Mosh” by Enimen plays, but this rendition is done by a small band playing kazoos. The madness continues only for a few seconds.)
SOR: Great to be here, Mark!
MARK: Really?! Uhh.... err... I mean of course it is! So Sonny... I can call you Sonny right?!
SOR: Why not?
MARK: Heh, you sure are a pushover!
SOR: Well, I am laid back on the outside, but I am laughing on the inside!
MARK: Laughing? At my jokes!
SOR - I'm laughing at the fact that I found out you were 5 months behind on your payments, so I’m having them tow your Plymoth Gran Fury right now as we speak.
MARK - MY CAR!
SOR - Well , that was fun! Hey director guy!
DIRECTOR - Yeah?
SOR - Why don't you finish this interview!
DIRECTOR - Ok... Umm, how has it felt to be back in LPW so far?
SOR – At first I was apprehensive. I mean all these young guns in the federation now were either looking for advice or to make a name for themselves by putting down another veteran. It’s funny that 30 in this fed is the “old man.” So far its been an interesting experience and I haven’t had too much trouble. Except for of course the oppressive front office. But that’s business as usual with LPW. Song as old as time.
DIRECTOR: Hmm, well what are your thoughts on your match against Ultramarcus?
SOR: A lot of people have been hating on Marcus for the decision that he made. He took the money. He took the easy road. But who can blame him? He is in a fraternity of brothers of some of the most successful people who have ever graced this sport. There is a reason these guys have collected a mountain of championships. They are that damn good. And Marcus is hoping some of that rubs off on him.
His one problem is marinade.
SOR: You see when a good piece of meat is made, its usually taken a lot of time to prepare. Whether its dry aged or marinaded or Cajun injected, time has to be taken for it to taste awesome. Marcus has taken the Lawry’s approach. He’s prime choice, but he’s surrounded himself in this cheapened sauce and while it may look good, once you cut it open, you can see the issue. The marinade was just a cheap way to make it appetizing. But the meat was prepared all wrong. And as such, it suffers.
Marcus made the same mistake. Instead of bringing me a match with a guy whom I’ve never faced before, I’ve seen all of his moves before. The Illuminati have a distinct signature with their matches. A stamp that you have to look for very meticulously but is present in every match. And if you can find it, you know what to expect and when to expect it.
Because of Marcus’s choice, he has lost the element of surprise and as such, he may have just lost his edge.
DIRECTOR - Okay, we have one more caller before the break. Caller, You are on the air!
CALLER - SOR! YOU LET ME BACK IN MY STUDIO RIGHT NOW! FIRST MY CAR AND NOW MY SHOW! YOU LET ME BACK IN THERE NOW YOU GREASE MONKEY!
SOR - I'm sorry caller... that is all the time we have on our show today, but tune in next week for SoR's Auto Auction!
DIRECTOR - (laughing) G'nite everyone!
CALLER - I WANT MY SHOW BACK! AHHHHHH!