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|AIM: || ||#1 Posted on 11.3.05 2016.44 |
Reposted on: 11.3.12 2016.54
| The Lord of the Reign|
The Titan Tower
Volume II, Chapter Seven
ďIn Which Chris Jericho Takes ChargeĒ
Jericho buys a motorcycle and starts the long drive back to Vegas. On the way, he sees reports of the RAW army marching towards Smackdown. He arrives at the entrance to the Luxor and dismounts. He removes his motorcycle helmet and tosses his hair back as it blows in the wind.
Orton: Youíre not so pretty.
Tazz: Brotha, what the hell happened? You fell off that cliff, but you look fine. Man, you never were that good at selling stuff, not that I should be one to talk, mind, but still, you should-
Jericho: Whereís Heyman? I have to talk to him.
Orton: My horoscope said that I might meet an old friend at One-thousand eleven thirty-five. And look at these compass hands! Hey, look at these hands! Manicuuuuuure.
Jericho: Orton: whatís five plus you?
Orton: FÖ you?
Jericho: Fíyou, too, moron. No go play fetch. There are shiny things all over the ground. I bet you canít catch all of them.
Orton: I bet I can!
Jericho: Thereís a nickel in my hand that says otherwise. Prove me wrong!
Tazz: Hey, thatís Benoitís catchphrase!
Jericho: And donít think I forgot that. Weíve got work to do; come on!
Jericho and the gang walk into the Luxor to Heymanís suite, Orton waddling behind while staring at the ground, looking for shiny prizes.
Heyman: The whole RAW Roster?
Jericho: Right down to Val Venis.
Heyman: No kidding.
Jericho: They are coming. They will not stop until theyíve destroyed Smackdown, until theyíve destroyed all hope of any of us ever getting even so much as jobber to the stars status.
Heyman: Now, this, Chris Jericho, this is EXTREME! Get the men prepared, everybody take up whatever you can find. Stools, chairs, lead pipes, garbage cans and lids, stop signs, it doesnít matter. I wonít let what happened to ECW happen here.
Jericho: Oh, for godís sake.
Tazz: Brotha, what happened in ECW was bad, but not nearly as bad as whatís gonna happen to Smackdown. I mean at least a lot of us had jobs after ECW, Paul E., but Vince and Hunta are aiminí to kill us all.
Heyman: Oh stop it. They wouldnít kill us. Weíll just hole up here in Vegas for a few weeks, prey off the tourists and then go on the road again when Vince gets off his power trip.
Jericho: Paul, you idiot! Vince will never be off this power trip! Weíve got to take the fight to him! I know you havenít always been the best nuts-and-bolts planner, so leave that to me. Letís send somebody out to get Cena back. Heís your most marketable star anyway.
Heyman: Nonsense, Iím running with a Charlie Haas main-event card.
Heyman: Nobody will come to help Smackdown. Weíve hired what help we can. Now itís up to us and the grace of my financial skill and the drawing power of Carlito Caribbean Cool to save Smackdown
Jericho: Why donít you call on Foley?
Heyman: Foley? Foley was nothing! Foley is nothing! A washed-up old author. What kind of draw will he be for my wrestling show? No, no. I brought back Sandman, though. Now thatís some good wrestling. Forget about that fat, washed-up old slob Foley, THIS is the kind of fat, washed-up old slob we need.
Sandman hits himself with a kendo stick and belches.
Heyman: All right! Non-wrestlers, inside the hotel.
Sandman: Sure thing, boss, but we need some more time to finish checking in.
Heyman: Forget checking in, if we canít get enough rooms, weíll sleep in the arcade.
Sandman: You got it.
Back in the forestÖ.
Regal: Öand thatís the story of the time I once wrestled a bear dressed like Kwee-Wee. Or maybe it was Kwee-Wee. Hell if I know, right? I was so drunk, I rogered a scone, yeah? Anyway, weíre getting together a little tupperware party tonight.
Chavo: With who?
Regal: ďWith whom.Ē Oh, youíll see, chap.
Chavo: See what?
Suddenly, emerging from the trees, Dean Malenko, Ultimo Dragon, Lance Storm, Fit Finlay, Jamie Noble and Christopher Daniels come, bearing microwave-safe plastic covers and bowls.
Regal: Ah, the technical wrestlers have arrived. Good, good. We have much to discuss, gentlemen. Much to discuss indeed.
Back in Vegas, things are looking grim.
Tazz: Would you look at this brotha? Announcers? Producers? A handful of crappy wrestlers? Is that the Iron Shiek? Oh God. This sucks, brotha.
Jericho: This is the motley crew weíve assembled to defend Smackdown in the great Royal Rumble, huh? That sucks. It sucks hard.
Orton: Speaking of motley crews, thereís Test.
Tazz: Ugh. Most of these guys shouldíve retired by now. Theyíre too old.
Orton: Or too young. Itís too bad their promising careers will be ended under the crushing boot of Triple Hís glass ceiling, isnít it? I mean, these suckers against RAW? Theyíre doomed. This is the most intelligent thing I have ever said. End program.
Tazz: Canít say I expected to hear that.
Jericho: Well, if this ship sinks, Iím sinking with it.
Jericho storms off, Orton moves to follow.
Tazz: Let him storm off dramatically.
Orton: Yeah. He isnít that pretty. Iíve got my looks to preserve, you know?
Tazz: Oh yeah. I know, brotha.
Inside the Luxor, Paul Heyman readies for battle.
Heyman: Sandman, what the hell am I?
Sandman: Youíre the boss, Paul.
Heyman: What kind of boss kills off two companies in his lifetime?
Sandman: You know us, Paul. We would die for you, wrap ourselves in barbed wire, jump through 50 flaming tables. We are Hardcore.
Heyman: Youíre right, Jim. The time has come for me to throw the gauntlet into Vince McMahonís face and let him know that Paul Heyman is not afraid. He raided me for talent and destroyed everything that was great about ECW. He stole my ideas and claimed they were his; he tore me down and battered the people who were loyal to me. Now the same thing is happening here on Smackdown. Well, I wonít let that happen. No, sir. I will be the Savior of Smackdown. I am Paul Heyman. I am EXTREME! Hand over my coat. Hand over my Yankees hat. Give me my cellphone. Today is the day that Smackdown takes the fight to RAW.
Elsewhere, Chris Jericho is with Josh Mathews.
Jericho: Is this your first time holding a chair?
Mathews: No, no. I was on Tough Enough.
Jericho: So, yes?
Mathews: UhÖ yeah. Hey, I heard we were all about to get slaughtered? Thatís gonna suck, huh?
Jericho: Donít worry, Josh, thereís always hope. So long as we arenít cancelled, weíre just one big angle away from overtaking RAW again. Maybe youíll even be involved in it.
Orton: Iíve thought it over, and thereís no way Smackdown will fail with somebody as pretty as me on it. 12-16 female demographic, here we come!
Jericho: Okay, Iím glad to have you on board, Randy, no matter what youíre here for.
Orton: Iím here for DESTINY.
Jericho: All right. Cool. Just donít be dumb. Iím serious. Donít be dumb.
Orton: The last hotel I was in gave me shrimp when I called the phone-answering-guy and ordered ďDESTINY.Ē
Jericho: We donít have shrimp. We donít even have time.
Orton: We have TIME DESTINY. LOOK AT MY CLOMPASS. North to 2. We have 2 much time!
Jericho: Oh, Jesus. Okay. Randy, whatís Raw plus Smackdown?
Jericho: Where can you find a rack?
Orton: Pretty girls!
Jericho: What is Stacy?
Orton: A pretty girl!
Jericho: Go find the rack on Stacy.
Orton: Does not- End Program.
Jericho: (to Tazz) Go put him in the corner and reboot him when the fight starts.
Tazz: Brotha, I gotta ask, do we have time to trim my beard? Itís totally itchy.
Jericho: Oh, for the love of f[expletives deleted].
Some unfamiliar music plays in the background.
Tazz: New music! At last!
Jericho: I donít think thatís for you.
Theodore Long: Open the gate, playa! Get Heyman down here!
Down at the gate to the Luxor parking lot, superstars from Velocity file in, clapping hands with invisible fans, as is their custom.
Heyman: Wow. How about that?
RVD: Duuuude. I donít know whatís going on. Where are we? Is this Detroit?
Heyman: Rob! Iím so glad to see you! Are you here to help Smackdown?
RVD: I guess. Arenít Smackdown and Velocity pretty much the same anyway?
Jericho: Rob, itís nice to have another upper-midcarder on our side.
RVD: Yeah! All right!!
Later that night, the RAW Army marches from their rooms at the MGM Grand looking out at the ring set up in the middle of the Strip. The Smackdown Soldiers stand on top of the small privacy wall encircling the Luxor and look out into the road. Sensing danger, Tazz reboots Orton.
Tazz: I can see my house from here, brotha. Hahahahahaha. Godammit, everybody up here is taller than me. Even Shannon frigging Moore is taller than me.
Jericho: This wall isnít nearly as high as I thought itíd be.
Tazz: Well, Jericho, youíre the smartest one of us all. I hope you know what the hell youíre doing.
Orton: Even if he doesnít, itís not like weíre going to die. Weíre vital parts of the overall story. I was told to say this by Shannon Moore. Did I get it right?
Moore: Everything but saying I told you to say it, dumbass.
Orton: It, dumbass!
Moore: No, donít say what I tell you to say.
Orton: What I tell you to say!
Moore: Iím a soul-sucking moron.
Orton: Iím a soul-sucking moron!
Tazz: Yeah, well, Iíll tell you what, brotha, I just hope I can choke somebody out. Iím bored as all get out up here.
Jericho: No Mercy, guys. No Mercy.
Moore: Psst! Jericho! This is the Royal Rumble. Not No Mercy.
Tazz: I swear to God, Iím going to go kick Shannon Mooreís ass for being taller than me.
Orton: Well, Iíll say this for you, youíre WAY prettier.
Moore: (whispering) Uh, sure. And I love your tattoos.
Orton: UhÖ sure.
Tazz: Damn straight.
Orton: And I love your caboose!
Volume II, Chapter Eight
ďIn Which There Is a Royal RumbleĒ
The two sides stare at each other across the Strip. Theyíre content with a staredown, until Carlito spits an apple across and nails Road Dogg in the face.
Carlito: Now that was cool. Did you guys see that?
Pyro explodes and the RAW Superstars charge the ring.
Heyman: So it begins.
Orton: Hit them all with an RKO! Thatís a cool move!
The Smackdown crew pelts the ring with half-eaten hot dogs, half-drunk sodas, wadded-up Orton t-shirts, and various garbage.
Tazz: That was my Pepsi. Goddammit, Orton, quit throwing my lunch.
Heyman: No! No! More lunch! Everybody throw Tazzís lunch!
Tazz: Not my Ding Dongs. Noooooooooooo!
Jericho: Now itís our turn.
Tazz: Play my music.
The buzzer sounds. HONK! Tazzí music plays. Orton accompanies him to ringside. Tazz begins suplexing the hell out of Val Venis.
Tazz: Human Suplex Machine, Brotha!
Orton: Youíre still not as cool as me.
Tazz: Yeah I am. Thatís two suplexes right there.
Orton: Yeah? Well, RKO to this taxi driver. Thatís, like, twenty guys right there.
Tazz: Is not!
Orton: Is too!
The ring slowly fills with Superstars. Meanwhile, the forest is slowly filling with Tupperware.
Chavo: Uncle Eddie! Wake up! I know the party is boring, but look at all the Amway I sold!
Regal: Well, weíve come to a decision, chaps.
Regal: You will never win a World Title.
Chavo: Ha! Told you!
Eddie: What about Triple H? Are you going to make him tap out, esse?
Regal: Oh, we havenít even talked about that yet.
Eddie: Well get to stepping, holmes, before he destroys the whole industry!
Regal: Well, youíve got to understand, old bean, technical wrestlers are notoriously bad at cutting promos. Itís going to take poor Dean about three hours just to spout out whatever point heís trying to make over there. I, thankfully, remain immune.
Eddie: What was that? I fell asleep again because youíre so boring, esse. Go talk Triple H.
Back at the Royal Rumble, things arenít looking great for Smackdown. Tazz continues to suplex, but he looks winded.
Tazz: 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... (HONK) Oh crap! Itís Viscera!
Heyman: Viscera? Viscera? Is that all youíve got, Vince? Is that all youíve got, Hunter? Bring Ďem on. Weíre Extreme! Weíre Hardcore!
Jericho: That monorail is moving! Orton! Go stop whoever is trying to break into our hotel!
Orton runs back up onto the wall and jumps off it, missing the monorail by a good 30 feet and landing on his ass. Jericho shakes his head.
Heyman: Pryo people! Production Staff! Hold those monorail doors shut. This really sucks.
Jericho: Tazz! Hold them off!
Tazz: Tazz, hold them off. ďTazz, hold them off,Ē he says. What does it look like Iím doing? Iím running out of Suplexes is what. Geez, why the hell did I volunteer to start this thing?
In the forest, Eddie and Chavo meet once again with Regal.
Regal: Weíve come to a decision.
Regal: You should grow back the mullet.
Eddie: What about Triple H?
Regal: Oh, that. Yes, yes. Weíre ignoring him.
Chavo: Youíre what?
Regal: Truth be told, none of us really gives a crap about your stupid storyline. Sorry. Can I invite you for some tea?
Eddie: Shove your tea up your ass, esse vato! I hope Hunter makes you all job to him every day for a month until nobody will hire you ever again!
Regal: Oh, you bloody malcontent! Itís no frigging wonder we donít help you! Besides, donít you understand? Our kind of wrestling is dead. Dead, dead, dead. As lifeless as these here trees.
Eddie: These trees are alive.
Regal: Shut it up, you!
Chavo: Well, maybe heís right, Uncle Eddie. Letís just go back home to Texas. Maybe we can cross the border and wrestle in AAA. Wouldnít that be fun, holmes?
Eddie: No. Donít you understand, Hunter and Vince wonít stop at Smackdown. Theyíll go on to Ring of Honor, TNA, AAA, to Japan, theyíre going to take the whole World down, Chavito! Itís too bad these idiots are too stupid to understand.
Back in Vegas, Paul E. has things under control.
Heyman: What the hell is going on?
Jericho: We need to pull back the superstars not in the Rumble to protect the Luxor.
Heyman: Superstars not in the Rumble! Fall back! Protect the Luxor!
Tazz: 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... (HONK) Please, God, let it be somebody to help me!
ďEnter SandmanĒ blares over the speakers.
Sandman stops at the entrance to the Luxor, opens a can of beer and begins to rock out.
Heyman: We donít have time for this. Jericho, take his spot. He wonít get there until itís time for you to come out.
Jericho rushes the ring, but heís headed off by RVD, who springboards in and begins wailing on the RAW guys with a chair. He lines a few of them up against the ropes and points at himself.
Tazz: Brotha, donít do something stupid.
RVD: Who? Me?
Rob nails a flying cross body, eliminating six men at once, including himself. On the way out, Viscera lands on top of him, crushing him. Rob Van Dam has fallen.
Theodore Long: Holla, holla! We need some help in here!
Heyman: Come on, anybody who can, letís bar the door.
Katie: Oh, I can help do that.
Heyman: Get back to your room.
Folksy Midwestern Play-By-Play Man: (explodes)
Jericho slides into the ring.
Jericho: Tazz, weíve got to buy them time.
Tazz: Thatís okay, brotha, thereís only, what, ten of them left. Iíve got an idea.
Jericho: That being?
Tazz: Throw me at Maven.
Tazz: Yeah. Iíve got an idea.
Jericho tosses Tazz at Maven, and Tazz nails him with an RKO, knocking him out, then throws him over the top.
Tazz: Tell Orton I did that and died.
Jericho: Neither of us would ever hear the end of it. No WAY heís finding out.
Orton: NICE ONE, TAZZ!
Jericho & Tazz: What?
Orton: I want to be liked.
Moore: I said ďlickedĒ!
Orton: Lick me, guys!
Heyman: Tazz, Jericho, can you get yourselves eliminated? We could use some help.
Jericho: Iím never gonna win this goddamn thing.
Tazz: All the better for me, my arms are tired.
Tazz and Jericho hop over the top rope, leaving the RAW superstars alone in the ring. They look at each other and begin brawling. Itís every man for himself!
Heyman: All right, everybody inside!
Sandman: Exiiiiit light, enter niiiiiightÖ.
Jericho: Secure the casino!
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|#2 Posted on 15.3.05 2000.30 |
Reposted on: 15.3.12 2001.20
| These just keep getting funnier ... love the reference to Randy's DESTINY jabber, and I now see why you made the Ents the technical wrestlers ... props too for putting the Fallen Angel in, the guy's a GOD. He should do something cool in the last chapter as the technical wrestlers charge Triple H's tower, like putting Batista in the Angel's Wings or something. Keep up the laughs! |
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