#1: Shaun McWhirter

#2: Josh Walters

#3: Rasta Farian

#4: Ban X

#5: The Crushin' Russian

#6: Big O

#7: Obediah

#8: Brian J. Blottie

#9: Shawn Coats

#10: The Flying Scotsman

#11: Dudley Do Wrong

#12: Red Leaf

SHAUN McWHIRTER

<Fade in: The Gold's Gym in Waco, Texas. Shaun "The Scottish Monster" is

working out on the bench press, with some rather large weights for his

body mass. Straining slightly, he finishes his last rep of his last set,

and sits up, during which the crowd gathering 'round has been applauding.

The reason: he'd just broken the record for bench press in that gym.

after taking a few gulps of water, and wiping his face, he heads over to

the squat machine, preparing to work out there, but by no means trying to

break the record yet. He puts on 2 100 lb weights on either side, and

after strapping on a lifting belt, sets himself under the bar. Noticing

the NACW camera following hi0m, he grunts, motioning him to sit down, adn

watch the end of his workout. 25 minutes, and 3 sets of 8 reps later,

Shaun is siting on a bench, drinking the rest of his water bottle and

mopping sweat from his body. Looking to the camera, he grins

maliciously, ready to speak his mind, knowing nothing can stop him>

"Soriano. It's our big date, Sunday is. A really big date, for it

means my true shot at glory. Yes, you've gotten your 15 minutes of fame,

and now it's my turn to have my 15, along with everyone else's combined

as well. You see, I should be the United States champ. Except there's a

little rule in the handbook that states something about the title not

changing on a count out. Well, such is life. Now it means that I get a

shot at the WORLD title, Bay-bee! Yes, not the namby-pamby US title, but

the real gold! Listen closely, Alan Soriano. I have several words I

want you to hear, and none of them good for you.

"First off, I read you interview in a newssheet called The Kilt Report.

By the way, those of you peons out there who don't get it, subscribe to

it. Contact Justin Russell to find out how. Anyway, In there, you made

no mention whatsoever of me. I want to ask you something...who drug you

from the depths of hell (aka WWF chats -SM) and brought you to wresting,

when I ran my own ECW-ish fed, NECW? Who let you sharpen your talent,

learn the technicals of pro wrestling, and let you to stardom. I DID!

You could have given me some credit at least! I found you, I made you,

and now I have the power to destroy you! You met Jason Deegan through

NECW, and that led you to Shawn Coats...but I BROUGHT YOU TO NECW! I

STARTED YOU IN THIS BUSINESS! And I get you getting an imposter to play

me as thanks. Nuh-uh. That ain't gonna work with me. I'm telling you

right here, and right now. The main reason for my obsession about

beating you is revenge. Plain and simple, Soriano. I have been yearning

for something, and I've now found out what it is. A desire to kick your

ass. Yes, win or lose, I will be satisfied. And, so said, I want to

call to your attention yet another point, one you brought up to my

attention in your last interview...

"I don't train, eh? You never *SEE* me doing anything to improve my

condition. Oh, I do believe you are blind in both eyes and need a new

pair of glasses, son, because every single time I find one of Coat's

gofers with a camera stuck up my ass, I'm training. Remember the first

"Chris Crow's House of Hell?" Well, I set up another location, "CCHoH2:

The Monster's Nest." ((Though it's not official - SC)) I trained myself

and wanna-bes like you. I train almost every waking moment. I've lately

been doing muscle toning to improve my effectiveness with the Scottish

Hangover. At first, it was to get Insayne Wayne up in it to win the US

title. Now I'm going stronger so as to get you in it. And when I clamp

on The Submission Hold (name pending -SM), I can garauntee your defeat.

I train, Soriano. I train harder than most professional body builders.

Don't give me the crap about not training. I won't have it. Infact, you

want to see something? COREY!"

"Yeah?"

"Show these guys what you are fixing up, eh?"

"Whatever you say, Shaun."

<At this point, Corey, the gym owner, points to a new plaque on the wall,

which the camera zooms up on. In blazing new gold, compared to the faded

silver on the back, it has "Shaun McWhirter. March 25th, 1999./ Bench

Press. 385 lbs. The camera goes back to Shaun.>

"You see, Soriano? I train. I've trained hard enough to break records.

This is just the first. Soon, it'll be squat, then incline, then power

cleans, and then anything you can think of. And, heh heh, I'll go down

in the record books or NACW as the man who had the single longest reign

as World Champ. You wanna know why, Alan? That's because I will beat

you, and no man will beat me. I gaurantee it. I promise it. I swear by

the Holy name of God that I will beat you Sunday Night. That Post Win

Letdown Syndrome thing you talked about? I don't believe in it. I just

believe their win was a fluke, and a better man came along and beat them.

And that's what's going to happen in this case, my friend.

<Suddenly, his watch starts beeping.>

"Aww...fuck. I have a session with the senior class in 30 minutes, and

that's how long it takes me to get out there and get set up, so I guess

I'll leave you at this with my words of wisdom. Be prepared to hear from

me later, Soriano. I gaurantee you I'll win, if I have reiterate. Catch

ya later, CHILL OUT!"

<Shaun heads to the back, muttering about the foolishness of Soriano..as

he heads into the locker room, the camera does the good ol' fade to

black>

JOSH WALTERS

<<The scene opens to a dark room. An overhead projector sits in the

room. The white light illuminates a screen and a picture of a young boy

is on the screen. A voice begins to speak>>

Voice: A young boy. Those days were the good ol' days. Playing outside

after school. Not having responsibility or worrying about where you were

going to get money from. Yes, those days were great.

<<The picture changes to an older version of the boy from the first

picture>>

Voice: Highshcool. I hated Highschool. Sure I had some friends but

they all thought I was weird. They only hung out with me to see me snap

and destroy other people. They were only my friends so I wouldn't

destroy them. Highschool had its luxuries though. I still didn't have

to worry too much about money. A little more responsiblity but not too

much.

<<The picture changes to Rob Trainor grappling with another wrestler>>

Voice: Rob Trainor. My new responsibility. That looks like a good move

Rob. That is great that you are working so hard. Rob are you my friend?

Wait, you are not my friend. I must destroy you!! Rob, don't overlook

your competition.

<<The picture changes to Josh Walters sitting on a bence with his head

hung low>>

Voice: Then there is Josh Walters. Underated, unrecognizable, and

underappreciated. No one realizes the power I . . . I mean Walters has.

He is going to start with Trainor and work his way up in the business.

<<The camera pans over and Josh Walters is seen sitting in a Lazy chair

reclining>>

Walters: The fact is Trainor you don't stand a chance. Your training

and desire are no match for the Intensity that I bring to the ring.

Trainor you need to focus on the match you have with me and not the

issues you have with Coats.

<<The camera pans back over to the overhead. A picture of Walters with

his hands in the air is shown.>>

Walters: NACW get used to this picture because you will be seeing it

from now on. Trainor you better pray to the gods that you can walk away

from this match and continue your career. And Shawn Coats take notice of

Intensity Josh Walters. Don't forget about me because I can wrestle just

as good as the next guy.

Until Sunday NACW when I begin my ascent to the top.

<<The camera fades on the picture of Walters with his hands raised in the

air>>

RASTA FARIAN

(Rasta is sitting by a TV watching matches of all of the wrestlers that

will wrestle in the Rookie Rumble II. A reporter walks in to see what's

going on.)

Rasta: (watching a RED LEAF match) Hey, mon! Dis guy is coming in to

Bob Marley music!!!!!!!!! RED LEAF, do you have a true love for the man

and the music??? (shows the large "BOB MARLEY FOREVER" tattoo on his

chest) If you truly love the reggae, 'den you are all right with me,

mon.

Reporter: What about the others in the rookie rumble?

Rasta: I'm not sure about dem, mon. JAGUAR--, you suck worse dan two

dollar Juanita back on the island. Find the name of an animal you've

actually seen before, mon. I'll kick your face in if I get bored, mon.

YAKOF SHMIRNOV (DE RUSSIAN MON)-- or bjorn or whoever the hell you are

(tries to sound as drunk and as russian as possible) ifff yyooovvv got a

problem wit your russian sex life, drink some more vodka and beat up some

more little kids. (back to the jamaican) If you've got a problem with

me, I'm right here, mon. I'm not gonna hide from you or your badly paid

babysitters.

JOHNNY COAST-- It looks like you know what going on around here well

enough to stand up for what you believe in, mon. Like Bob Marley said,

"Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights". I'll stay out of your way

if you're not in mine, mon.

MR FAITH---You are just begging for an ass kicking, but OBEDIAH seems to

be more than enough to kick the shit out of you, mon. I'm not even going

to waste my Jamaican time on you sorry ass.

DEPUTY DUMB SHIT (DAT STUPID COP)--- You represent all of the injustice

that I had to go through to get to where I am now. Get ready for some

whoop ass therapy, mon. The reggae riot's coming for you, mon. After I

throw you out, my bird will shit on your head. Arrest this, mon.

BOB BORING---At least you got a decent first name. The rest of you, not

good, mon.

CHRIS WIDMAYER---who?

MANIAC---who?

DE TREE MUSKETTEERS (RED LEAF, REVENGER, BLOOD MON)- I hope you got

enough

brains to know that only one guy wins the rookie rumble, mon. I'm not

gonna wait for you to draw straws, mon.

Now dat's it. Give me and Ziggy some time to listen to some reggae and

focus on the match.

(camera fades to black)

BAN X

<The scene opens in Ban X's blue 1988 Ford F-150 Truck. He is cruising

down

the highway, while on his factory radio "Friends in Low Places" is about

begin. The camera picks up as he begins to speak.>

Ban X: Blame it all on my roots. I showed up in boots, and ruined your

black

tie affair. The last one to know, the last one to show, I was the last

one you

thought you'd see there. And I saw the surprise, and the fear in his

eyes,

when I took his glass of Champagne. I toasted, you said honey "We may be

through, but you'll never hear me complain!!" Cuz I got friends in low

places,

where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away, and I feel

OK. I'm

not bi...what the heck? You gotta be kiddin' me! You got a darn NACW

camera

following me on my way to Saturday Nite Slam Masters? Oh jeez, I guess I

DID

sign a contract saying that I give up all private speech. Even if it does

encounter my singing.

<Ban X and the NACW Camera van pull over to a near local bar, entitled

"Bob's

Bar & Beer". The place is very dusty, and clouded with cigarette smoke,

there are people playing billiards, people playing darts, quite a few

people

at the bar, and a few small families eating the greasy Bob's Bombastic

Beefsteak Burger. Ban X and the NACW Camera man find a booth, and they

sit

down. As they sit down, a waitress comes over.>

Waitress: Hello there, what can I get y'all tonite?

Ban X: I'll take a Budwesier. You want anything Cameraman? <Cameraman

nods his

head no.> What the heck; Gimme two Budweisers.

Waitress: Sure thing, I'll be back with your drinks in a short while.

Ban X: Well, know that we're here, I guess that you little people want to

know

my feelings about the comments directed towards me by my opponent this

Sunday

in my first Hardcore match in NACW, Lost Metal.

The exchange of words, swapping of phrases, re-arrangement of quotes.

It's all

somehow misincorporated, somehow. Lost Metal, you are right. As of right

now,

my wristwatch tells me we only got...hmm...2 days, 8 hours, 28 minutes,

and 16

seconds until we meet. I guess I'm not as think as you dumb I am, right

Metal?

I guess all those chairshots to the head kinda made me illiterate

sometimes,

but I'll live through it. I always do...

A high and mighty "diss". Now, to me, "diss" means you just don't know

how to

say piss corectly. But judging as the way I hear some people these days

talk,

I can incporate it to the fact that that word means to be disrespectful

others. Now why would I be disrespectful? Well, if it means in this world

that

high-flying and hardcore have taken over as a replacement for a REAL

wrestling

match, then I guess I'm as disrespectful as they come. I mean, jeez,

where

would we be had we not had REAL wrestling? Sure, it's not the MOST

entertaining thing in the world to watch 2 men "shoot" or "wrestle" for

minutes or so, but that's how you know that you're not just some phony

who can

pull off a high cross-body block here and a top-rope hurricanrana there.

mean, even I can pull off a moonsault and head-scissor takeover, but

that's

part of the few aerial skills I learned. I chose not to learn all aerial

skills, because the moves I can perform or apply may stun, or even shock

the

good part of y'all. Seen Taz wrestle? Douglas wrestle? Those are guys

that

WORK for a living. People like Hogan may have attracted people TO the

sport,

but he hasn't taught one darn thing about actually wrestling.

Off that subject, and onto another. Hardcore, Extreme. Ya know, 1 thing I

really dislike about other wrestlers is whenever they say they're

*Extreme* or

*Hardcore* or any of that crap. To me, you can pull off any move in the

world.

If it's on a chair, through a table, or on the cement, it's just

wrestling

modified. Barbwire bats? Harmful, but NOT Hardcore. It's just all part of

the

game, and in the game, it's all of how you play it. Balls to the wall?

Good

phrase, kinda catchy actually. But the truth is, if all you can do is

being

high-flying and being an aerial worker, then I guess you better have a

crapload of endurance, because it takes a LOT to wear me down, and I'm

sure

all those moves can't be executed with no energy taken, much less very

little.

Now Metal, I never said you underestimated me. I was just saying DON'T

you

underestimate me. DO I underestimate you? Not at all. I know what you've

done,

I know what you're capable of. And it's no joking matter, because what

you can

do is kinda life-threating; One false move and you're out for a long

time. I

know all about it, I used to be one myself. Of course, before becoming a

power

wrestler. Back when I was weak, but now, look at me now. How I've grown.

went from 6'0", 190 lbs. to 6'2" 235 lbs. of PURE muscle. 4% body fat.

Hey,

that beer doesn't mix very well with the muscles and energy ya know.

You're right there. Your words HAVEN'T been polite. But that's A-OK. I

don't

care. Dish out the insults, make me feel bad. It's OK. I've lived through

it.

If anything, your words help me make a living. If you didn't speak, heck,

I'd

be stuck with an '87 Ford F-150.

The Dream in his coma...Tell him I wish him luck. And hey, you never

know, you

may be laying down right next to him. Or I may. Or heck, we BOTH may be

laying

down next to him. It's all a matter of what match we're gonna see this

Sunday.

We've got all the matches imaginable from Ladder matches to Texas Death

Matches...why do I all the sudden feel like that match may be suited

PERFECTLY

for me? Ya never know. It may be my, or your, lucky day, and we get that

wonderful match. We battle it out. Texan wins Texas Death Match; Advances

next bracket in Hardcore Title Tourney. Oh, that would be a HECKUVA

headline.

Of course, in reality, neither me, you, or anybody else knows what we're

gonna

end up battling in, but that result may not be any different...depending

what you think.

Relaxing, training. They're both the same. You do some training, you do

some

relaxing. I know the pattern all too well, but you see, I'm not one of

those

guys who goes to the gym to show-off to every weak-muscled man and

basically

intently say to them "God, you're WEAK compared to me." I do it in the

privacy

of my own home, on my own time. Kinda like when I'm having a one-nite

stand...I guess you COULD say, X MARKS THE SPOT!!

A Happy Ending...ahh, how sweet. But apparently you seem to be lost in a

DREAM

world. And dream world's don't get you very far, except to the fact that

you

must wake up and realize that everything you just had is gone, and now

you

must face reality. Reality bites, don't it?

Lost Metal, sweet dreams...

<The scene closes as the Waitress finally goes over and brings over the

two

beers. Within two minutes, Ban X chugs them both down and heads out to

his

truck. When he turns in back on, the song "How Forever Feels" By Kenny

Chesney

plays, as he begins to sing again...help us lord.>

THE CRUSHIN' RUSSIAN

[Scene opens with the camera unsteadily bouncing up and down. The camera

is following reporter Bill Davis of News channel 14. They are walking on

secluded trail in the rough woods between Bumfuck and Vancouver.]

Reporter Davis: Who the hell is this guy and why the hell are we walking

through the damn jungle looking for him. I should be in the office right

now.

cameraman: well, sir, he's a professional wrestler and his name is the

Crushin Russian. I'm not really sure why we're walking through the

forest

looking for him, but he always does his interviews on his own terms.

Reporter D.: I don't give a shit who he is. I'm getting dirty. I've

got

a few things to say to this piece of crap wrestler.

cameraman: well, sir, you might want to be polite to him, he doesn't

reporters or journalists much. He's from the NACW, the most popular and

highest quality wrestling federation in the states. He's probably

dangerous.

[they hear some gun shots off in the distance]

Reporter D.: That's probably those dumbasses now. Come on, lets go get

this over with.

cameraman: Uh, if he has a gun, do we..uh..really want to do this

interview.

Reporter: come on you skinny punk ass woman, lets get going.

[soon, they stumble upon a clearing in the woods where they find The

Crushin Russian, his goons Ivan, Mikhail, Boris, and Vlady, a dozen

beautiful blond women, plenty of beer and vodka, and enough guns to

supply

a small militia.]

Cameraman: Uh....lets go....I'm serious.....

reporter: [yelling out to the Crushin Russian] Hey YOU! Wrestler guy,

come over here and talk to me.

[they look at him with surprised faces and wave their guns at the

reporter

and camera to come over.]

reporter: what the hell are you guys doing out here? Why the hell did I

have to walk all the way out here to talk to you?

[Vlady shoots at something but misses]

Crushin Russian: Listen, bitch, I do my interviews on MY terms. If you

don't like that, go to hell. I'll see you there.

reporter: what the hell is with you guys and guns?

Crushin Russian: I take it you're new to Canada. What the hell is there

to do in this backward ass country. I could break bottles over my head

screw some goats or something. We thought we'd shoot of some rounds,

maybe

tag some rabbits or rats or something. We're just plain ass bored in

this

place.

reporter: You could train for this event you people are putting on in

Vancouver.

Crushin Russian: Why train for them, I am only interested in the bigger

and better things ahead. The rookie rumble will be an easy victory over

bunch of little schoolgirls dressed in pretty tights. I am concentrating

on bigger and better things, like the U.S. title and Dave Bean's wife.

Wow.

Reporter: What is the story of your competition, why will it be such an

easy win?

Crushin' Russian: It's very obvious, and if you knew anything, you'd see

it too. I am the best wrestler in my class, and one of the best in the

world. Anything short of the RRII title and the US title will not

suffice.

The titles will be mine, one way or another.

reporter: Anything to say to our audience or to your competition?

Crushin Russian: Yeah, I got nothing else to do, I might as well say

something. To your audience-I hate you all. I hate your canadian asses,

hate your canadian kids, I hate your canadian mothers, and I hate you.

for the jobbers in the Rookie Rumble, I've got a few things to say. Mr.

Faith, anything you say or pray won't help you when I get my hands on

you.

You'd better pray to the god of skinny punks that I don't end up picking

you to eliminate first. You can Holy Drive yourself on back to Baltimore

because there's no use in even showing up at RRII. As for Bob Booreng,

you're a pretty funny guy. But don't think that because you pass

yourself

off as a pathetic jobber that I don't see you coming. I've beat jobbers

much more pathetic that you.--(See 3/21 SNSM). Dudley, go back to

wherever

you come from and arrest your f***ing mother for giving birth to a piece

crap like you. Or, maybe I'll just go back and f**k your mother?!

perhaps. Anyway, we will see who the better man is on Sunday. Rebels,

you may think you have the advantage on your home turf, but think again

intellectually challenged friends. You will see that the wrath of Mother

Russia reigns wherever I go, and you will feel MY wrath, especially you

Red

Leaf. I will triumph in the Rookie Rumble, and I will win the US title

due time. Victory will be mine...and that of Mother Russia.

reporter:well, you certainly said a lot, can I leave now, or do you want

babble on for a while again?

Crushin Russian: Vlady...boys, please escort these fine gentlemen to

wherever they need to go.

[the camera shows Crushin Russian's goons and the reporter/cameraman

walking away from where they were. A gun goes off and the sound of a

bullet whizzing is heard. the camera pans back to see the Crushin

Russian

standing there with a 12 gauge shotgun, laughing hysterically.]

[fade to black]

BIG O

<The scene opens outside Big O's cabin near BF, BC. Big O is fixing a

hole

in the roof of his outhouse, while Runs-with-the-Pack is hanging out the

laundry to dry. A couple of pairs of wrestling tights, some shirts, and

pair of gigantic women's underwear are flapping in the breeze. Big O

notices the cameraman approaching and gets down from the ladder to give

his

interview.>

Big O: Hello der, how ya doin', eh?

cameraman: Good, I was hoping to get one last interview with you before

SNSM. Is now a good time?

Big O: Oh yah, you betcha. Runs-with-the-Pack, get me a beer, eh.

<Runs-with-the-Pack grunts and opens an Igloo ice chest, grabs a PBR, and

tosses it to Big O. Big O cracks the spud and takes a couple of gulps.>

cameraman: Big O, what do you think of your fellow Canadian Rob Trainor?

Big O: I've got mixed feelings about Rob, eh. I'm glad that I'm not the

only person in this fed that thinks Shane Pants doesn't know what he's

doing. But, Trainor's attack on the U.S. gives the rest of us Canadians

bad name, eh. Besides Pants is right, Trainor has no room to talk, he's

new to the fed and hasn't made a name for himself, yet.

cameraman: Do you have anything you want to say about the upcoming

Rookie

Rumble?

Big O: Yes, I think that it will be a great fight and should get some

good

publicity for the NACW. I like that fishin' guy, Shasta or Frasta or

something, even though I can't understand a word he says. I hope that my

fellow Canadian Red Leaf takes the title. I think he is a great wrestler

and is underrated because people don't think he is very smart. I also

little Bobby Booreng. That kid has real heart and a strong work ethic

that

I gotta respect. I think Dudley Do Wrong should be kicked out of the

fed.

Watching pornography, arresting innocent bystanders, and many other

activities that give the fed a bad name. What is Pants doing? Is he

trying to drive the fans away from this fed? Why doesn't he discipline

some of these jokers, eh? I tell you, if I ran the NACW things would be

lot different. This would be a respectable organization. An

organization

where the front office doesn't play favorites. I can't believe that

Pants

is paying for Lottie-Dottie to see a head doctor. Pants, you gonna start

picking up my beer tab or Runs-with-the-Packs orders from Victoria's

Secrets? Is he trying to run this fed into the ground? Lottie, if you

want your head fixed, I'll do it for free, eh. All I need is to find my

left-handed hammer.

cameraman: Big O, any comments on the Crushin' Russian?

Big O: Certainly, that bastard better prepare, because as soon as I get

chance I'm gonna hospitalize him, eh. Not even the most insane, stupid,

heat leeches in the league would ever hurt innocent children. I can't

believe that even you would stoop so low. What kind of piece of shit

would

attack first graders? You're just lucky I was training that day, because

if I would have gone to school, I would have killed you! I wish I hadn't

called in sick. <Runs-with-the-Pack nods in agreement> Russian you're

tops on my list now. I WILL sign a match with you, and I WILL destroy

you.

YOU'RE MINE. <mumbling to himself> Stupid piece of rabit shit, stuck on

bear's ass, can't even hold his liqour, pukes off of vodka, what a

jackass.

cameraman: Any comments about your hardcore match with the "Superstar"

Shawn Coats?

Big O: Yes, simply put, I'm gonna win. I've been talking it over with

Runs-with-the-Pack and we've discovered that I am very experienced when

comes to this type of match. I'm wrestling well, he's rusty. I've got

the

home crowd advantage, he's got shit. I've got experience, he plays with

Barbie dolls. It will take a miracle for Shane to win this match.

cameraman: You mention experience, but what about the spin the wheel

stipulation, surely you haven't fought in all of those matches before.

Big O: Actually, I have experience in every type of gimmick match on the

wheel, except that one that I don't understand. Spinner's choice or

something. I can't remember ever doing one of those before, eh. But let

me run down the others on the list, eh.

Falls-count-anywhere: Yes, I've wrestled in Idaho Falls, Indian Falls,

Iowa Falls, Cedar Falls, and the Niagra Falls. These matches have always

counted, eh. I've wrestled in many falls that Pants has never even heard

of. Advatage: me.

First blood: Ha, I've bled many times before. If Pants is stupid enough

to think that he can beat me just because I've never bled, than he's

wrong.

But, I bet a pretty boy like him hasn't ever hurt himself bad enough to

bleed, eh. Advantage: me.

Coal miner's glove match: <shaking his head smiling> Pants doesn't

stand

a chance. He probably doesn't even know what a coal mine is. I worked

a coal mine from the first time I dropped out of school (8) until I was

14,

when I started wrestling and logging. I even own my own pair of coal

mining gloves. If Pants thinks he has a shot at this type of match, he's

stupider then I thought. HUGE advantage: me.

Ladder match: Well, as you saw earlier I know how to use a ladder. I've

been climbing ladders to fix things since before I could walk. Pants

probably hires people to climb ladders for him. Plus, Pants has been

looking a little fat lately, I know I can race him up a ladder and win.

Again advantage: me.

Steel cage match: Again, I have lots of experience. When Yukon Jack got

rid of his old sled dogs he didn't need his steel kennel anymore. I

asked

him for it figurin' that I might need it for something. All this week me

and Runs-with-the-Pack have been rastlin' in it. I really don't know why

this match is popular, them cages are really small, eh. Advantage: me.

Barbed-wire ropes match: I couldn't remember this one, but luckly

Runs-with-the-Pack did. Last fall we were pheasant huntin' in some

farmers

corn field in Iowa. We were walkin' along the fence line when I told

Runs-with-the-Pack that she looked a little out of shape. She threw me

into the fence and we started goin' at it right then and there. Well,

shit, we became so tangled in the barbed-wire that it took Yukon Jack 2

hours to cut us out of it. Runs-with-the-Pack claims to have won, but I

let her be on top. Advantage: me.

Texas death match: I was in one of these last week. Ban X is from

Texas,

right? Advantage: me.

Dog-collar match: Well, one time my dogs were all tired. So while

Runs-with-the-Pack wasn't looking I slipped the collar on her. We had a

huge fight, but in the end she was pullin' my sled. Advantage: me.

Scaffold match: Yukon Jack had a scaffold in his yard from when he was

painting his barn. Last night I climbed up there to wrestle

Runs-with-the-Pack, but when she got to the top, it collapsed. Still,

advantage: me.

Myakka bar room brawl: HA, I've fought in more bar room brawls then

anyone

I know. <Runs-with-the-Pack grunts loudly. Big O looking sheepish:>

Uhh...except for Runs-with-the-Pack. If I had all the money back that

I've

had to spend fixin' up the Elk Horn after I've destroyed it, I would have

2 room cabin. I'm not sure what Myakka is, but it's still a bar. That

makes it my second home. <camera nods in agreement> Besides, Shane is

such

a pussy that he wouldn't even fight in one of these last year. He was so

scared that he made Jeremy "the Volvo" Rhodes fight for him. Must be too

dirty for ya in a bar, eh pretty boy. Overwhelming advantage: me. As a

matter of fact, I'll challenge Pants to a Elk Horn bar room brawl anytime

he feels like he has the guts to come to Bumfuck.

I guess that I have the advantage with every match except for Spinner's

Choice. So, unless I get very unlucky and that is the match we have to

wrestle, I'll have a HUGE advantage over the "Semi-Star" on Sunday.

cameraman: Well, uhmmm...ok. Thanks Big O for your time. Good luck on

Sunday. I hope the boss takes it easy on you.

OBEDIAH

<The scene opens in an out door cafe in a some what large city. Most of

the

people sitting out side seem to be staring at one of the tabels neer the

entrance to the building. The camera pans over to that table and we see a

man dressed in a cheep sears suit, and an Amish man. the camera zooms in

and we recognize Obediah, and his trainer, Johnathan. In the back ground

can hear a little boy and his mother talking.>

Little boy: Look mommy, look over their. It's Obediah from the NACW! I

wonder if Jed is around?

Mom: That's exciting, isn't it? remember that daddy is going to take

youto

see him on sunday?

Little boy: Yes, of course I remember mommy. Can I go and get his

autograph? Can I? Please mommy, can I?

Mom: OK, but you better be careful. I'll be watching you from over here.

Little boy: Thanks mommy.

<The little boy gives his mom a kiss and walkes over to hte table that

Obediah, and Johnathan are sitting at>

Little boy: Excuse me, uh.. Mr. Obediah... Can I get your autograph?

<Obedaih gets a very puzzled look on his face. He looks over at Johnathan

for some help. Johnathan smiles at Obediah and shakes his head yes.

Obedaih

then sings the boy's note book, and sends him back to his mother.>

Obediah: What did that mean Johnathan?

Johnathan: Well, I guess he was a fan of yours. He must have seen you

wrestle last sunday and he thought you were a good wrestler.

Obediah: I have a fan? I am getting as soft as these other pagans in the

NACW. I am not here for self glorification, I am here doing the work of

hte

Lord. I must repent of this sin!

Johnathan: Don't worry about it kid. I told you that even though you may

not want any fans, you'll eventualy end up with a few. After all you are

TV every sunday night. Just think of it as a chance to reach the young

people with your message. A way of getting to them before the are

corrupted.

Obedaih: That is an excelent idea. I will take this oprotunity to bring

the

Lords message to the many children who watch this vile, sinful sport. I

will be a beacon of the light of the Lord to them.

Johnathan: Great! Now lets concentrate on the rookie rumble. This isn't

going to be an easy match for you.

Obedaih: The Lord shall protect me from those vile siners i will be

facing

on sunday. He has anoited me as he anointed David king of Isreal.

<Obediah picks up the latest NACW wire and turns to MR. FAITH,S

interview>

Obediah: MR. FAITH, in here you say that you will make me into a blood

sacrifice to the Lord. Once again you have proven your self to be a false

prophet. Because of hte great sacrifice out Lord Jesus Christ has made

there is no longer a need for a blood sacrifice to God. He has been

satisfied by the blood sacrifice of Jesus. I will no longer call you MR.

FAITH, for you are not a man of faith, but a man of lies. From now on

thou

shalt be known to me as THE FALSE PROPHET. I turned to the Word of God to

learn what counsel He has givin me for this sundays rookie rumble. This

what the Lord has said.

Obedaih: This is what the Lord has to say to those who dare oppose his

servant. "The Lord takes vengance, and is filled with wrath. The Lord

takes

vengance on His foes and maintains His wrath against His enemies. The

Lord

is slow to anger and great in power; the Lord will not leave the guilty

unpunished." This speaks to all of you sinners in the NACW. The day of

the

Lord is near and repentance is thine only way to survive the Lords wrath.

THE FALSE PROPET had a tast of this last sunday, and this sunday he shall

tast it once again. DUDLEY DO WRONG shall suffer for his transgressions.

The Lord has not forgotten about you, and your evil ways. The RUSSIAN has

displayed more evil then any other in the rumble. He has hurt children,

killed people, and he has spoke untruths of others. The Lords wrath is

clearly on you IGOR. BOB, I belive thou are just trapped in this mess.

thou

hath shown a good heart, and God willing thou shalt not be corrupted bu

the

sin with in the NACW. RASTA FARIAN, I belive thou art just ignorent as to

who the Lord is. Beware the path thou chooseth for the Lord has sent me,

his humble servent to distroy all who stand in the path of the redeemed.

<Obediah's food arrives and he and Johnathan start eating their lunch>

FADE

TO BLACK

BRIAN J. BLOTTIE

*Scene opens at the front desk of the Wayne County Jail, with a man in a

police uniform, medium build, brown hair, kinda tall, at the desk. The

cameraman begins to speak*

Cameraman: Yes, I'm here to bail out a Mr. Brian J. Blottie. Here's the

bond.

*The cameraman hands over a large handful of money. The officer shuffles

through some papers, then pulls out a sheet, reads it, stamps it, and

hands it

to the cameraman*

Officer: We'll be glad when you get that guy out of there. He's the

grumpy

sort. Ever since we brought him in for beating up that doctor...

*The officer leads the cameraman down the hallway, and over to a cell.

Inside

of it is "The True Living Legend" Brian J. Blottie. He does NOT look

happy*

Cameraman: Mr. Blottie, Mr. Coats is INCREDIBLY sorry for sending you...

Blottie: Not another word. All I want to know is, who else did he send

that "doctor"?

Cameraman: Ummm... Insane Wayne... Dudley Do Wrong... Jeremy Rhodes...

*Blottie looks furious, as he walks quickly out of the building, the

camera

following*

Blottie: And you guys wonder where all the psychos come from. Coats

basically

made them by sending them to that sad excuse for a "doctor". The only

one you

never brought up was The Flying Scotsman, and I'm sure he got that little

case

of insanity on his own time. Hell, the guys like a brother, but he's a

nutcase. Needs a little lesson in discipline... in how to control his

"urges"

towards insanity. I'm going to be that teacher. The man who teaches him

stability. And it's gonna start this Sunday, trust me on that one.

*Blottie climbs into a waiting limo, and invites the cameraman in*

Blottie: I have a few more things to address, so you can ride with me to

the

airport. Don't worry about getting back, I'll have the driver take you

back

here, once I'm done.

Cameraman: Airport? Where are you going, sir?

Blottie: Heh... sir. You can call me Mr. Blottie, if you'd like. And

where

in the hell do you think I'm going? I'm going to Canada, to get a little

practice in at a gym before Sunday. I'm going to have QUITE the battle

front of me, since I'm taking on "The Lobo" one on one...

Cameraman: You think you're going to win?

Blottie: Of course I do. Don't we all? The day you find a wrestler who

KNOWS

he's gonna lose a match, is the day that I file charges accusing that

wrestler

of accepting bribes.

Now, as for Jeremy Rhodes... heh, he's a great athlete. But not as

great

as I am. No matter how close we get, as brothers, or just as friends,

we're

going to have quite the war, and I will come out on top. I'm a TRUE

living

legend. Thusly, it's destined for me to beat all the champions in the

NACW at

one time or another. It just looks like I'm going to have to beat him a

little earlier than I thought I would.

And as for this rumor going around that I'm going to face the "winner"

the Rookie Rumble II... seriously, I think I'm a little above showing the

"newbies" the ropes in the middle of the ring. The only person I give a

damn

about is Bob Booreng, and he's a personified jobber. Yes, a jobber that

can

talk with the best of them, but a jobber nonetheless.

Cameraman: During the one on one match this Sunday, what's your game

plan?

*Blottie smiles and gives him a funny look*

Blottie: Now if I told you that, that would give away the big "surprise"

have for Jeremy, now wouldn't it? Trust me, I know what I'm going to do

that ring, same as Jeremy does. We're trained professionals. We know

how to

handle ourselves without having to lower ourselves to beating up

civilians and

attacking small children. Unlike SOME of the NACW's "elite". And we

don't

have to brag about how we're going to beat each other into three seperate

pieces, eat two of them, and then hang the other up in a tree for all to

see

the damage we "done". We're beyond that. We know what the other is

capable

of, so there is that unspoken knowledge of what is going to be done in

the

ring.

Cameraman: Well... I guess that's all I had to ask.

Blottie: The mere fact that you even asked the questions leaves me with a

question for you. Do you want Ross Howard's job?

Cameraman: What? No, of course...

Blottie: Don't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. You want Howard's

job.

You want to be the man behind the mic, interviewing the best of the best.

You

want to be the man getting the multi-million dollar paycheck. Keep

dreaming,

because you will NEVER be as good, nor will you EVER be as dignified as

Howard

is. And seeing as that Howard SUCKS, I'll have to give you props for

being

the WORST interviewer I've EVER seen.

*The limo stops, and a few seconds later, the door opens*

Blottie: Get out.

Cameraman: What?!

Blottie: You heard me, get out. I don't want filth such as yourself

riding

with me in this limo. Find your own way back.

Cameraman: But...

*Blottie shoves the cameraman, and the driver catches him, and discards

him to

the side of the road. Blottie smirks at the cameraman*

Blottie: Until next time...

*The driver slams the door shut, walks back to the front of the limo,

gets in,

and the limo takes off. The cameraman gets up, looks around, turns back

the camera, and turns it off, causing the screen to GO TO BLACK*

SHAWN COATS

((The scene opens, and we are in the official NACW gym in

Charlottesville, Virginia, based in the NACW headquarters. On the

treadmill is "Superstar" Shawn Coats, wearing a NACW tank top and black

cotton shorts which are soaked in sweat. He is also wearing his running

shoes. He is in a brisk run for him, which means that he has the machine

turned up full-blast. He is also having a conversation on his cellular

phone, obviously talking about Brian J. Blottie))

"Superstar" Shawn Coats: Dr. Lipshitz, I know he attacked you, but I told

you to handle his situation carefully. You had no right to tie him up,

call his father an asshole, and then call his mother a slut. I paid you

to talk to him and try to calm him down, not insult him. Yes, I'm

calling you a bad doctor. You...yeah. Fine, you can take it to court if

you want. You won't have a case, those. Fine. Call your lawyer. I

don't really care. Get over it. What was that? A doctor with such a

dirty mouth. Goodbye.

((Coats presses a button on the phone and puts it aside. He takes a sip

from his water bottle and then pours some on his head))

Coats: Brian, can you possibly make this thing go faster?

((Brian Carter, the man behind the desk, shakes his head))

Coats: Damn. I wanted this thing to go faster, because I'm moving a

little too fast for it. After all, considering I run a 3.9 40-yard-dash,

I'd try to at least get this thing to go faster. Maybe I should invest

in a new treadmill. One of those special jobs.

((The treadmill suddenly stops, and a voice says "time up." The timer

blinks "45:00." Coats gets off and sits down, wiping his face with a

towel))

Coats: I take it that you saw earlier in the Wire what Big O said.

Something about how I don't know how to run my company, and then he ran

me down, claiming his got an advantage in every single match. That's

actually a pretty funny thing. Let's see what he said earlier.

((Coats pulls out a tape recorder from his gym bag, and presses play))

Big O ((recorded)): Myakka bar room brawl: HA, I've fought in more bar

room brawls then anyone I know. Uhh...except for Runs-with-the-Pack. If

I had all the money back that I've had to spend fixin' up the Elk Horn

after I've destroyed it, I would have a 2 room cabin. I'm not sure what

Myakka is, but it's still a bar. That makes it my second home. <camera

nods in agreement> Besides, Shane is such a pussy that he wouldn't even

fight in one of these last year. He was so scared that he made Jeremy

"the Volvo" Rhodes fight for him. Must be too dirty for ya in a bar, eh

pretty boy. Overwhelming advantage: me.

((Coats stops the tape))

Coats: Odd. The only reason I didn't fight in the Myakka Bar Room Brawl

last year was because I had a little problem called a broken neck. It's

quite hard to wrestle in a bar room brawl with a broken neck, don't you

think? Besides, Rhodes volunteered to fight that match for me. Perhaps

you didn't even bother to read the little history on that match. Then

again, that must be a little hard for an illiterate piece of...ah, forget

it, insults don't bother the schmuck.

((Coats takes a sip from his water))

Coats: In fact, here's a reason why I've got the advantage; not only am I

in the best shape of my life, weighing in at a solid 247 pounds (and in

case you forget, I'm 6'5"), but I've also been sparring. Meanwhile, Big

O has been sitting around in that little bar, drinking his beer, claiming

he's got this match wrapped up because I'm the commissioner and I've been

out of wrestling for a year. He thinks the crowd reaction is going to

help him win? Hell, I can have this match take place in an empty arena

if I want, but I'm not worried about the crowd. I don't worry about

crowds when I wrestle. You want 12 more reasons why I've got this match

wrapped up? It's all on that little wheel. Here's a little rundown of

my favorite two.

--Spinner's Choice (spinner picks the match): Ah, spinner's choice. I'm

glad I put this one on here. That way, I'll be able to pick what I

please, and everyone knows that I'll go straight for a submission match.

It doesn't take a guy with a big brain to know that's my favorite match.

If it lands on that, then he's in big trouble.

--Submissions Only Match: I can't help but notice that Big O ignored this

match, and it's probably for good reason. He knows I'm a

submissionist...I'm a wrestler. I'm not some back-alley fighter unless

I'm pushed into the situation, but when it comes down to it, he knows

that this match is my bread and butter. He knows I can make him scream

in the ring...he knows I can make him submit without a problem. In fact,

he knows for a fact that if it lands on this match, then he's going to

lose. Besides, in a submissions only match, he knows that I'll never

submit. I never have, and I never will.

((Coats takes another drink))

Coats: It's kinda funny to hear Big O say that he's got experience, but I

play with Barbie dolls. After all, he's talking to the guy who may only

be 27 years old, but has logged 12 years in the sport. Yeah, you heard

right...I started when I was 15. I took my lumps, but I started getting

good. Shocked a few people, too. Maybe I don't look like a grizzled

veteran, but you'd be surprised.

((Coats rubs his shaved head, trying to relax))

Coats: But one thing I find absolutely hilarious is Big O saying I don't

know how to run my own company. Big O, if you think you can do any

better, then you can feel free to ask for your release and you can start

your own company. I'll do whatever the hell I want with this company.

I've said it before, I'll say it again, and commit it to memory,

son...this is my federation, not yours. If I want to employ Dudley Do

Wrong or pay for Brian J. Blottie's psychologist, then I will do so,

because it's my money and I'll do whatever I want with it. If you don't

like it, then leave. Nobody's gonna miss you when you're gone.

((Coats stands up))

Coats: Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a plane to catch in two hours,

so I need to hit the showers. Big O, never forget it...after Sunday,

you'll just be another statistic...and I'll still be "The Superstar."

((FTB))

THE FLYING SCOTSMAN

[Scotsman is shown outside a liquor store]

[A man walks up, and Scotsman approaches him]

Scotsman: "Excuse me sir..could you buy me some whiskey please?"

Man: "Uh..aren't you of age?"

Scotsman: "Yes."

Man: "Then why can't you buy the whiskey?"

Scotsman: "Because I have no money."

[The man looks at him in disgust, then walks in the store]

Scotsman: "Yes!! Hes going to buy my booze. Woo-hoo."

[The man comes out with 24 cans of Molson Canadian, and Scotsman grabs

them

from him and runs off, shouting 'Thanks Man' as he goes]

-----

[Scotsman is then seen, drinking and talking to a tree]

Scotsman: "So ya know tree....its like this, ok? Its like this, point of

view is taken aside, and basically, this mystery man.

Hello..tree..hey..are you listening?"

"Oh..ok, sorry tree. You looked like you were thinking about something

else..hey you don't look well..you look a bit woody..oh man, I'm better

than Seinfeld!"

"Anyway tree, this Sunday, its me and you..no...no..wait a seconds, its

and a mystery man, vs Jeremy...no..wait.."

"Is it? Ok thanks. So its me vs a mystery wrestler."

"I've been hearing rumours. I heard it was a..a..."Ian Bradley"...I

don't

know who that is, but his first name rhymes with 'peein'. Poor guy."

"Now thats not confirmed. I read it on one of those internet

contraptions

or something. But the fact remains, I MAY be fighting a guy that will be

peein all over the place. Good..bad? Well, it'll distract me, thats for

sure."

"Oh..and whats with this spin-the-wheel deal? Can we spin it so hard,

that

it doesn't stop spinning? Then what? Do we have to have a peein contest?

Because if I'm fighting Peein Bradley, then I don't want no peein

contest.

Lets have a Scotsman contest instead."

"Hey..thats fair! Shutup tree, or I'll chop you into firewood, you big,

fat...bush!"

[The tree remains silent]

"Thats better."

"Now this Sunday, its spin the wheel. I don't care who I have to

wrestle,

as long as I win that coin toss, and get that popcorn."

"So once I win...I want it to be a scaffold match. I want to knock any

big

bastard off that scaffold. I'll fight everyone up there. I'll fight

everyone. As a matter of fact, I gotta get in some practice right now."

[Scotsman climbs up to the top of the tree]

"Want to see how daring I am? I'll show you. NACW, I'm going to take a

bump...right off this tree...TO THE GROUND. Talk about hardcore."

"Ready..."

"Steady..."

"Go..."

[Scotsman jumps off the 2ft tree, and lands on the ground]

[He rolls about the ground in pretend agony, screaming for an ambulance]

[He then gets up, and looks himself down.]

"Try lacing my boots."

"No..really. I can't lace my boots. I never learned to tie."

[Scotsman walks off, untied boots and all.]

DUDLEY DO WRONG

[Scene opens as an NACW reporter and cameraman are talking outside one

of the sleazy hotels Dudley Has been frequenting.]

Rep: Ok, there's Dudley's room lets go talk to him.

CameraGuy: No way. Every time I do an interview with that guy, he

arrests me, puts me in a burlap sack, knocks me out, and I wake up in a

strip club in Iowa with a bruised back and pantyhose tied around my

head.

Rep: Ok.... what if we don't interview him. What if we just follow him

around?

CamerGuy: Works for me.

[Dudley comes out of one of the rooms, heads towards his car.]

Rep: Duley! Can we do a ride along?

DDW: NO! NO MORE GOD DAMN INTERVIEWS! I'VE GOT OFFICIAL POLICE BUSINESS

TO ATTEND TO!

Rep: We're not going to ask any questions. We just want to do a ride a

long.

[Dudley stops and considers]

DDW: Ok.

[The men enter the car. Dudley takes off and they head down the freeway

towards the next SNSM. For a long time nothing happens.]

[Dudley pulls into the left lane. The reporter shifts uncomfortably.

Another long pause ensues.]

[The reporter checks his watch. The camerman begins tapping his

fingers. Still nothing happens.]

[Dudley pulls onto a larger highway. The reporter yawns. Time

continues to pass.]

[Some miles down the road, the car passes a sign on the road. It reads:

IF YOU ARE STILL READING THIS RP YOU HAVE COME TOO FAR.]

[Dudley stops at a Dunkin' Donuts. He comes out with a super forty

pack. They drive off and nothing happens for another couple of hours.]

[Dudley pulls over to a gas station, gets out, arrests an armed robber,

fixes him to the tunk of the car with duct tape, then drives off.]

[A few miles down the road, the robber on the trunk falls off. Finally

the reporter finally says something.]

Rep: Uhhhh.... Dudley could you maybe DO something?

DDW: What do I look like some sort of clown here to amuse you? Do I

look Bob Booreng, here to make you laugh? I'm OFF DUTY FOR CHRIST'S

SAKE! I don't work ALL THE TIME! No sit down and shut up.

Rep: Drats.

DDW: That's it! YOU'RE BOTH UNDER ARREST!

CameraGuy: Awww shit! I fucking HATE Iowa!

RED LEAF

<Scene opens with Red Leaf he is in the basement of Blood Boy's

apartment....>

Red Leaf: Red Leaf see... Red Leaf see the comments towards him on last

night RP Wire. Red Leaf don't care. Think what you want. Red Leaf don't

mind. Red Leaf will encourage it. Red Leaf doesn't think wrestling is

based upon bashing people, and if you know all the right words in the

dict-ary or not. Wrestling comes from skill. Wrestling comes from alot

things.

Red Leaf: Red Leaf want, ah, Red Leaf no care. Red Leaf know, though,

that whoever win this, if it Revenger, Blood Boy, Russian, Widmayer,

Booreng, Coast.... Whoever.... they will be on top soon, but it will be

Red Leaf who is on top first no matter if win or lose two nights from

tonight, the 28th.

<Scene cuts to him walking on the street.... A Reporter calls out his

name...>

Reporter: Red Leaf!

Red Leaf: Red Leaf?

Reporter: Red Leaf, I talked to Blood Boy yesterday and I wish to catch

up to you today and ask you a few questions.

Red Leaf: Red Leaf let you.

Reporter: Who do you think will win the Rookie Rumble on Sunday?

Red Leaf: Red Leaf.

Reporter: Other than you.

Red Leaf: Red Leaf thought there only one winner.

Reporter: You got a point there. What about your feelings on any

wrestlers in the rumble?

Red Leaf: Red Leaf have not many.

Reporter: Do you have a strategy?

Red Leaf: Red Leaf believe he just kick everyone there's ass for the

dur-[a]-tion.

Reporter: Any hard feelings towards other the Rebels?

Red Leaf: Red Leaf have none.

Reporter: Anything else?

Red Leaf: Red Leaf not asking questions. Red Leaf delievering pun-ment.

<Pause....>

Reporter: What?

<Red Leaf Mapledriver's him onto the road, which no one seems to see for

no apparent reason. Scene fades to black....>