Champoon Wrasslin': STOP! Jefe time! 24/11/18

[The King]

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We open up to Jefe's warehouse - it's fairly big so it houses a hundred odd wrestling fans, a ring and a budget entrance way. The cameras cut to the merchandise table where lead announcer Feargal Nukebuster is joined by guest commentator - Copycat?

Feargal Nukebuster: Welcome everyone to Champoon Wrathhlin... STOP! JEFE TIME! My name ith Feargal Nukebuthter and joining me here tonight ith none other than AWF thtar, Copycat! Welcome!
Copycat: Th- thanks. B- but I- I really shouldn't be here... I- If Mr. Bradshaw catches m- me I'll be i- in a lot of tr- trouble!
Feargal Nukebuster: Well why rithk being here tonight?
Copycat: That Jefe guy promised m- me a big payday - said I was his idol or something?
Feargal Nukebuster: That... doeth'nt thurprithe me...

Copycat lifts up a t-shirt from the merchandise stand - Feargal looks at it with confusion.



Copycat: I- I've also been payed t- to plug the br- brand new Champoon Wrasslin' shirt. Buy it now for the l- low low price of... f- forty dollars!
Feargal Nukebuster: ONLY forty dollarth?!

The cameras cut to the entrance 'stage', well, 'kinda-stage'.

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The 'Ready to Rumble' theme plays throughout the broken speakers as the fans go wild - David Arquette runs out to massive cheers and raises his CW Shooting Star Championship high in the air - the purple lights swirling around the warehouse. He rushes his way down to the ring, high-fiving the fans as he goes, before sliding into the squared circle and climbing a corner turnbuckle.

Feargal Nukebuster: Latht thow David Arquette thocked the world when he defied the oddth and beat not only Broman Brainth but Dave Thelthzer aswell!
Copycat: W- wait who's David Arquette?
Feargal Nukebuster: None other than our Thooting Thtar Champion, ya plonker! Do you not watch the product?!
Copycat: I- I didn't know th- this was a thing until fi- five minutes ago...
Feargal Nukebuster: *gathpth* Let'th hope Jefe didn't catch you thaying that! He'll fire you! Jutht like he did to Thperm latht thow!
Copycat: S- s- s- sperm?

Arquette gets off of the turnbuckle and hands the referee his title belt - "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit breaks out into the semi-working PA and the fans get to their feet, but Randy Angel never appears.

Feargal Nukebuster: Wh- where ith he?
Copycat: Who?
Feargal Nukebuster: Randy Angel?
Copycat: Is he related to Nelly Angel, somehow?
Feargal Nukebuster: ...

After waiting quite a long while a drunk homeless looking man covered in 18 title belts stumbles his way onto the 'ramp'. Each belt is made out of some sort alcohol beverage - whether it be the bottle itself, the cap or stains from the drink. It's Randy Angel. He doesn't really know where he is, having just been shoved out onto the ramp by management - well, by management I mean Jefe. Angel sees the cheering crowd and suddenly snaps into a sense of pride - they're cheering for him?! He raises all of his belts into the air, one by one, before stumbling down the ramp some more and making his way into the ring.

Feargal Nukebuster: No way thith guy ith winning the title tonight...
Copycat: O- oh, that's sad.

Angel is shown to his corner of the ring by the referee, then the bell rings.

DING! DING! DING!
AND WE ARE UNDER WAY!

Arquette rushes at Angel in the corner - wasting no time on the attack! He hits a massive corner splash as the least favorite Angel brother drops to the mat! But then he pops up straight away - not feeling the move due to his intoxication! He stumbles around the ring as Arquette watches on in shock - before hitting the ropes and executing a picture perfect dropkick - once more knocking Angel from off of his feet. HOWEVER ANGEL NO SELLS THE MOVE AGAIN!

Feargal Nukebuster: He'th like the Terminator!
Copycat: Wh- what's a Terminator?
Feargal Nukebuster: ...

Arquette, understandably getting frustrated, rushes over to Angel and slaps him round the face - not just once, but a couple of times to really hammer his point home. Angel drunkingly laughs before motioning for a kiss. Arquette just lets go and drops him, Randy landing on his bum. Arquette takes a few steps back before nailing Randy in the face with a shoot kick - breaking his nose in half. Randy laughs as blood trickles down his nose.

Feargal Nukebuster: I've never theen David Arquette be tho vithiouth before!
Copycat: I- I've never seen him before...
Feargal Nukebuster: You're telling me that you've never theen the movie, Ready to Rumble?!
Copycat: Of course I- I have, th- that's one of my favorite movies!
Feargal Nukebuster: Well David Arquette plays the main character in it, ya dipthit!
Copycat: NO WAY!

Yes way as the referee pulls Arquette away from the bloody Randy Angel. He checks on him but Randy just laughs through his own blood, he stands up straight away and motions for Arquette to give him so more - garnering a massive pop from the crowd. Randy's starting to realize where the hell he is! Arquette charges at him but Randy blocks a punch attempt and nails him with a few punches of his own - sending the actor into the corner. From there he continues to rain punch after punch to the face of Arquette - battering him beyond oblivion.

Feargal Nukebuster: I've never theen Randy Angel tho vithiouth before either! This ith like watching a bar fight! Which ith ironic theeing ath Randy ith drunk off hith titth!
Copycat: HOW DARE YOU BEAT UP MY FAVORITE ACTOR LIKE THAT!

Randy stops as the referee pulls him away from the now-bleeding Arquette - both men are caked in red. Randy motions that he wants to fight some more! Arquette looks on the verge of giving up!

Copycat: DON'T GIVE UP DAVE MARQUETTE! I BELIEVE IN YOU!
Feargal Nukebuster: I- I think you meant David Arquette.

Arquette won't allow himself to lose the Shooting Star Championship in his first defense - she musters up the courage and meets Randy back in the middle of the ring - but is immediately taken down with an armdrag and then an armbar follow through! Randy is yanking on the arm - trying to shred it right off. Arquette is on the verge of tapping out.

Feargal Nukebuster: I take back my thtatement from earlier on - maybe Randy Angel will win thith!
Copycat: NO! MY FAVORITE ACTOR WILL! DON'T TAP NOW ARQUETTE!

Arquette's face is full of pain and his arm has nearly been popped out of it's socket. Randy Angel won't stop his attack - he has no reason to. Plus, he's drunk, who's gonna tell a drunk person what they can and cannot do? Arquette finally gives in and TAPS! The crowd go crazy!

DING! DING! DING!
THERE'S A NEW SHOOTING STAR CHAMPION!

Feargal Nukebuster: HOLY COW! We have a NEW Thooting Thtar Champion!
Copycat: NO! NO, NO NO! BOOOO!

Randy Angel yanks - then yanks some more. The referee tries to break the hold but Randy won't stop until he has taken Arquette's arm - then it pops.

Feargal Nukebuster: Randy Angel now hath twenty titleth! The EXTH*Crown and the newly won Thooting Thtar Championthip!
Copycat: What's the twentieth?
Feargal Nukebuster: David Arquette'th arm!
Copycat: Disgusting...

Randy Angel lets go and stumbles back to his feet, the referee brings all eighteen alcohol titles to him and then his newly won Shooting Star Championship - which he kinda holds up high for the world to see.

Feargal Nukebuster: Never-the-lethh we'll catch you for more in-ring acthion after thith quick jump to backthtage!

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We open to backstage and it's there where we are greeted with the presence of the Jewish Juggernaut, Jacob Jacobowitz and a massive man shrouded in darkness.

Jacob Jacobowitz: Yes, I will be your spiritual adviser... I will take good care of you, yes... No, trust me, I'm here to help...

But first, you must help me win the XHF Lickass Championship...

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"Every Breath You Take" by Police creepily creeps its creeping way onto the creepily creeped speakers - the crowd loudly boo as "The Peeper" Harry Nutter make his way down the ramp, high-fiving the fans, but keeping hold to their hand for a second or two too long. Eventually, no one is willing to high-five him, so he sulks his way into the ring and sits in the corner - feeling unloved and wanting attention.

Feargal Nukebuster: If you look up the term 'peeping tom' in the dicthionary this guy'th fathe appearth!
Copycat: Hey! He kinda looks like me...
Feargal Nukebuster: Th- that'th not a good thing!
Copycat: I- I bet he get's all the ladies!
Feargal Nukebuster: Nope, the ladieth get him, unfortunately - ethpethially the under aged ones.

Nutter finally stops sulking and gets to his feet - waiting for his opponent to appear. The 7th Element by Vitas supermans it's super ass way into the superly broken speakers. The crowd go crazy as the real life superman, made out of gold, makes his way onto the entrance ramp. All the fans pull out their mobile devices to record such a magnificent deity, standing at 7 foot 5 and weighing in at a whopping five thousand pounds he truly is a sight to behold. He waves at the fans before running down the ramp, somehow, and climbing the apron - stepping over the top rope with ease.

Feargal Nukebuster: Wow.
Copycat: Is that, r- r- real gold?
Feargal Nukebuster: I- I think it ith...
Copycat: I'm in awe...
Feargal Nukebuster: Okay but theriouthly, I have thome plot holeth and character development quethtionth... A) why haven't the FBI theithzed him yet and thold him to the internathional market for that thweet athh dollar? Becauthe you know, capatalithm... B) how the fuck do you beat him? THEE) why the fuck ith he in Champoon Wrathhlin'?!
Copycat: Well I know the answer to that last one Mr. Nukebuster! He's here for that big ass payday! I'm guessing that's why you're here aswell, and me too!
Feargal Nukebuster: Well ya thee, I wath promithed a big pay day latht thow...
Copycat: And...?
Feargal Nukebuster: I thtill haven't been paid yet!
Copycat: WHAT?!

Big Drag being the kind, caring and respectable man he is, walks on over to his corner without having to be told to by the referee. Harry Nutter stretches his body, preparing for this massive fight ahead. It's then that we first catch a glimpse of his minuscule body, and massive right arm to follow it. The crowd boo as he starts his own "Peeper" chant - Big Drag chuckles at the small man's attempt and applauds his bravery. The referee, seeing that both fighters are ready to wage war, rings the bell.

DING! DING! DING!
AND WE ARE UNDERWEAR!

Harry Nutter immediately rushes at the gold superman, charging towards him with the upmost passion to inflict pain. He stops as soon he reaches the giant and pulls back his massive right arm, as to prepare for a chop - he swings it around a few times, winding it up for the biggest knife edge chop ever. Big Drag just watches him, ready to take it.

Feargal Nukebuster: Thith ithn't going to be pretty!
Copycat: And not for Big Drag either! Nutter's gonna chop pure gold!

Harry Nutter finally goes for the chop, breaking his hand when making contact with Drag's golden chest. He squeals in pain as Big Drag watches on, still, unmoving, surveying the situation. It's fully broken, no more wanking for the Peepster. The crowd begin to laugh, Nutter begins to cry. Big Drag looks down at the poor man, sympathy crawling across his face - he doesn't like to see people get hurt... So he smacks him on the head to put him out of his misery.

Feargal Nukebuster: KNOCKOUT!
Copycat: OH MY GOD HIS HEAD CAVED IN!

Nutter just drops, completely knocked out. The referee doesn't even bother counting a pin, he calls the match off straight away.

DING! DING! DING!
YOUR WINNER BY STOPPAGE - BIG DRAG!

Feargal Nukebuster: Will there be anyone who can beat thith ma- THING?!
Copycat: I- I- I JUST WITNESSED A MURDER!

Big Drag's arm is raised in victory. The referee lets go in an instance and drops to his knees, almost reluctantly checking up on the KO'd pedophile.

Feargal Nukebuster: What time ith it?! 3:16! PEEPER ITH OUT THTONE COLD!
Copycat: MR. BRADSHAW IS GOING TO KILL ME! I JUST WITNESSED A MURDER!

Drag looks around at the cheering fans, a massive smile creeping across his golden face. He has pleased the people of metropol- Kansas! Then he turns, looks at the unconscious being laying on the mat in need of saving, and acts quick. He picks Nutter up with complete ease and slings him across his shoulder - the referee pleading with him to put the Peeper down.

Feargal Nukebuster: I think the referee'th confuthed! He'th tho uthed to people beating other people up after their contractually obliged matcheth that he'th trying to THTOP Big Drag from THAVING Nutter!
Copycat: MR. NUKEBUSTER WE JUST WITNESSED A MURDER!
Feargal Nukebuster: Oh my god! Thtop being a lil' bitch!
Copycat: ...

Big Drag informs the referee that all will be fine now that 'Big Drag has arrived to save the day'! He steps over the top rope and to the outside, walking up the ramp with Nutter on shoulder, and carrying him all the way through the curtains.

Feargal Nukebuster: BREAKING NEWTH! I'M GETTING WORD THAT WAH MATHINE ARE GOING ON A RAMPAGE BACKTHTAGE!
Copycat: WAH!
Feargal Nukebuster: Oh, tho you know who thethe guyth are?
Copycat: Of course I do, they're my favorite tag team ever - well, besides me and Maverick of course!

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--WAH MACHINE GOING WILD--

Cba to write. Just imagine WAH Machine going crazy backstage because they didn't win the tag team titles, destroying shit and shouting "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!" "WAH!"

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Some piano keys are heard, growing louder and louder. Suddenly, the rock and roll kicks in and the vocals are heard.

"I look to the sky but there's nobody watchin'

Left here behind all alone and forgotten

So now the world belongs to me, the world belongs to me"

Dylan steps out from behind the curtain, flipping his hair back and grinning, savoring every boo, jeer, and death threat that comes his way. Looking down at the Lick Ass Championship around his waist, he unfastens it and holds it high up for everyone to see. He then walks down the aisle, using the Lick Ass Championship as a stand-in for an air guitar and walks down the aisle like Uncle Hogan did, playing the air guitar with his belt.

"So many roads that I've taken, when nobody thought I could make it

And even though I had to go it alone, I still survived"

As he approaches the ring, he walks towards the camera and motions to the championship. He kneels in front of the camera, looking around with a sly smile across his face...

Dylan Black: See this championship? Shit ain't going nowhere for a LONG time! I ain't losing to some random jobberinos!

"Sometimes your mind will provide the illusion

And your life can change in the blink of an eye, yeah"

Dylan stands up and climbs the apron, hopping over the ropes into the ring, sitting in his corner and blowing a kiss at the camera, shedding his entrance gear as the music dies down, hugging his championship tightly to his chest.

Feargal Nukebuster: He loveth it, he hateth it... Okay that'th a lie, he hateth it... But thtill, Dylan Viper won't bring himthelf to lothe to anyone on the Champoon Wrathhlin' Rothter!
Copycat: Is he the son of Jeffery Viper? That weird janitor from the XHF?
Feargal Nukebuster: ...yeth.

Dylan circles the ring as Hava Nagila jews it's way into the speakers. The Jewish Juggernaut, Jacob Jacobowitz marches his way out onto the ramp and bows his head - the crowd boo loudly, but he ignores them. As he walks down the ramp he begins to preach Judaism to the fans, but they're having none of it, being devoted Jefeians. He climbs the steps and enters the ring, the referee holding Dylan back in his corner. Jacob removes his hat and extensions. The ref rings the bell.

DING! DING! DING!
THE LICKASS TITLE IS ON THE LINE... LIKE ALWAYS!

Dylan storms to the center of the ring and motions for Jacob Jacobowitz to come join him for a collar and shoulder-tie-up.

Feargal Nukebuster: While Jacob trieth hith betht to preach Judaithm to thethe fanth - Dylan Viper ith trying hith betht to preach wrethling to thethe fanth!
Copycat: Well we are at a wrestling show, are we not Mr. Nukebuster?
Feargal Nukebuster: Wrethling thow? Pffft... If you can call it that...

Jacob remains in his corner and slowly shakes his head, reluctant to grapple with the wrestler. Dylan continues to taunt him - but still the Jewish Juggernaut does not move...

Feargal Nukebuster: What ith Jacob Jacobowithh doing?
Copycat: M- mind games?
Feargal Nukebuster: Hmmm, I thmell thomething fishy going on...

Jacob starts to chuckle to himself as the fan's boos get louder and louder - Dylan becomes a little irritated, waiting for Jacob to move. But still he doesn't.

Feargal Nukebuster: Oh god pleathe don't tell me...
Copycat: Tell you what Mr. Nukebuster?
Feargal Nukebuster: Thith ith a clathhic wrethling clithhe!
Copycat: A what?
Feargal Nukebuster: ...a clathhic wrethling clithhe?
Copycat: Ohhh, cliche! Wait, what do you mean?
Feargal Nukebuster: Well thith ith the point in the thow where the cowardly wrethler'th buddy jumpth the attacking wrethler from behind...
Copycat: Well where's Jacob's buddy?

Feargal sighs.

Feargal Nukebuster: ...there...

The cameras cut to the Mongolian Giant trying his best to step over the guard rail, but failing completely. Poor thing. Jacob sighs and covers his face within his hands - totally ashamed of this abomination trying to scale a guard rail. Dylan slowly turns around and looks at the Mongolian Giant, sighing aswell. 

Feargal Nukebuster: Thith... thith ith embarrathhing...
Copycat: Mhm...

Dylan turns back to look at Jacob, Jacob apologizes for the inconvenience. Dylan shrugs. They both turn to look at the Mongolian Giant - who finally manages to scale the guard rail. The crowd pop as his right foot finally hits the ground! Then he slips, landing on his ass and garnering another loud pop! Jacob slams his foot on the mat in anger as Dylan just corpses, retreating back to his corner and resting on the turnbuckles. Mongolian Giant takes another five minutes getting to his feet. Once done, he climbs the apron and just manages to step over the top rope. The crowd applause as he stands in the middle of the ring, Jacob and Dylan just looking at him with shame.

Feargal Nukebuster: Okay... what now?
Copycat: ...

Mongolian Giant looks at Jacob and asks what he's meant to be doing, having forgotten. Jacob just rolls out of the ring and leaves, grabbing a microphone on his way out.

Jacob Jacobowitz: I wasn't even going to wrestle today! IT'S SABBATH SATURDAY! That's why you were meant to jump him Mongo! THAT'S WHY! You would pin him for the belt then allow me to pin you tomorrow! BUT NO! YOU JUST HAD TO RUIN IT!

Jacob throws the microphone down and storms back through the curtains, crossing his arms and looking like a moody teenager as he does so.

Feargal Nukebuster: Tho... thith match ith thtill going on?
Copycat: I believe so?
Feargal Nukebuster: Actually that'th a thtupid quethtion, any lickathh title match never endth...

Mongolian Giant turns to Dylan, who still sits in the corner of the ring. He shrugs and apologizes before leaving the ring and heading to the back, ready to apologize to his spiritual leader.

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Coming soon to Champoon Wrasslin'...



POSTAL PAT!

The man, the myth, the postman himself is coming soon to Champoon Wrasslin - and he's a postman driven mad by years of delivering post to a tiny rural village... After four decades of delivering post to the sleepy rural village of Greendale, Lancashire, doing the same thing every day, come rain or shine, day in day out getting up at FUCKING CROWS PISS to deliver the post to YOU BASTARD FUCKING CUNTS Pat Clifton was feeling, shall we say, a little bit under the weather LIKE I WANTED TO PUT A FUCKING BULLET THROUGH YOUR HEADS YOU FUCKING SHIT COCKS THAT INCLUDES YOU TED GLEN YOU STUPID FARMING CUNT WITH YOUR FUCKING MOUSTACHE HOGGING THE SODDING ROAD WITH THAT STUPID FUCKING TRACTOR OF YOURS AND LETTING YOUR CUNTING SHEEP RUN ALL UP AND DOWN THE LANES IT WAS ME WHO LET THE AIR OUT OF YOUR TIRES TED, ME, AND I'D DO IT AGAIN IN A HEARTBEAT AND I FUCKED YOUR WIFE AND SHE SAID YOU'VE GOT A TINY COCK SO FUCK YOU TED.

coming soon...

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'I'm so Horny' jefes its way into the PA system, the crowd boo as the CW World Heavyweight Champion makes his way out of the curtains and down the ramp, waving at the fans, trying to act face but being booed out of the building. He ignores their remarks, and while they cut deep down inside, still he smiles.

The cameras cut to a script in Feargal and Copycat's hands.

Feargal Nukebuster: defanootely a fan foovarite hear n Champoon Wrasslin! thiz guy is soo ovar!
Copycat: he me idal forgal! i loov him sow mooch.
Feargal Nukebuster: catn beleeve jefe knot ex cown champoon yat
Copycat: it racest to jefe!
Feargal Nukebuster: ya wasicts!

Jefe rolls into the ring and climbs up the first turnbuckle - pyro shooting into the audience and blowing them up. There's no medics on hand. People die. Jefe still cheer for Jefe. Crowd still boo.



Joey Hawke: STOP!

The screen cuts out with static and when it comes back on XHF executive Joey Hawke is seen in on the power point projector in the warehouse. The crowd cheer loudly as he looks into the camera, confused as fuck.

Joey Hawke: I don't know what the hell this is, or why it even exists, but I've been asked to send you a message... Jefe?
 
We cut back to Jefe standing in the middle of the ring, visibly pissed off at the interruption. He asks for a microphone and is given it.

Jefe: yas that bee me name, i jefe... wat u want?

Joey nods his head.

Joey Hawke: Good, we have concerns that you aren't defending your 'World Heavyweight Championship' properly. Defending it against non-worthy contenders and non-wrestlers is a big no no, especially when you have the power to book matches. I have discussed it with fellow XHF Network officials and we have come to the conclusion that if you don't defend the World Heavyweight title against a real challenger in the next thirty days, then we shall strip you of the title indefinitely.

A massive cheer comes over the venue as Jefe is left stunned in the ring. He shakes his head, almost about to cry.

Jefe: no no no pls sir not do this too jefe

Joey shrugs.

Joey Hawke: Apologies Jefe, but it's got to happen.

--THE FEED CUTS OUT--

Jefe is left alone in the ring, title slung over his shoulder, microphone in hand. He begins to stomp on the mat - crying into his hands. WHY?! WHY'D THIS HAPPEN TO POOR OL' INNOCENT JEFE?!

Jefe: i cri now

The crowd cheer loudly as Jefe drops the mic, set to leave the ring and end the show on a negative note - well, for him at least. That's when the crowd go wild and a man steps out onto the entrance ramp - not just any man however, a farmer. THE, Daruun Michael. He points at Jefe's title, then motions it being around his waist. He smirks...



Jefe constantly shakes his head, trying to snap out of this reality he's suddenly been thrust in to. He must defend his World title against a real challenger, and there on the entrance ramp is a real challenger in Daruun Michael.

Jefe: no pls

Jefe can't leave up the ramp now, he has to head out through the crowd as to avoid Daruun Michael. But when he turns around...

THE RAMJOB!
JEFE HAS JUST BEEN HIT WITH A CHARGING HEADBUTT TO THE GROIN!

The World Heavyweight Champion drops to his knees, clenching his balls as a masked thing stands tall above him.

It's none other than the GOAT, La Cabra Ultima... the thing that was created with a pure intent to end Jefe. It just stares at Jefe crying on the mat, not moving at all. Daruun watches on from the entrance ramp, is that two real challengers that have stepped up to the plate? Because it sure looks like it... Will there be any more?

--CUT TO BIG DRAG AND NUTTER IN HOSPITAL--

We see Big Drag standing over the bed of Harry Nutter, looking after him and making sure the pedophile is alright. Drag then notices the camera on him. He turns and walks on up to it, all cinematic like, and smiles.

Big Drag: Make that three...

--CUT TO JACOB JACOBOWITZ AND MONGOLIAN GIANT BACKSTAGE--

Jacob is slapping the Mongolian Giant around the face for costing him the Lickass title, he's preaching words of Judaism to him as he does so. The Mongolian Giant just takes it. Jacob then starts to go over more plans with him to take Dylan Viper's XHF Lickass Championship, until he stops. Looks over at the camera, as though in an action movie.

Jacob Jacobowitz: Make that... fiv- four...

That's four real challengers now...

--CUT TO SPERM SWIMMING IN THE TESTICULAR REGION OF THE SEA--

We see the whale man, Sperm, swimming his way through the testicular regions of the sea - having a whale of a time, and having recently been fired by Jefe for not putting him over on commentary. He stops swimming and looks at the underwater camera. (Really, this is all done on some shitty green screen).

Sperm: You may have fired me, but that's just made me fired up! Sperm is coming back bay bay! So make that fiv-



Joey Hawke: NO.

--FEED CUTS BACK TO SPERM--

Sperm: *sad whale noise*

--CUT TO THE DYLAN VIPER--

We see the XHF Lickass Champion working out in his own private locker room backstage, being too serious for a federation such as Champoon Wrasslin'. He stops as the camera pans closer to his face, he drops the weights and almost smirks. The background music intensifies as it zooms up really close to his face. Then everything goes quiet.

Dylan Viper: NOW, make that five.

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