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The W - Guest Columns - LotR Satire: RotKotR (Part 3 of 6)
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Excalibur05
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The Lord of the Reign
The Return of the King of the Ring

Volume III, Chapter Five
ďIn Which Bret Hart Finally Turns for Good.... er... EvilĒ


High on a hill, or perhaps a mountain, Benoit, Dreamer, and Hart all climb.
Dreamer: It looks much smaller on TV.
Benoit: Whereís the ďHollywoodĒ sign, anyway?
Hitman: Itís on the other side, now come on. Only a few thousand more feet to go!
Dreamer: Thousand? This is ridiculous.



Bret pulls Benoit up onto a ledge, Dreamer has to find his own way up. As Benoit rests a moment, Bret Hart reaches down to try to grab the belt. Dreamer stops him with a well placed Kendo Stick to the face.
Dreamer: Come on. You didnít think I would see that? He was trying to take your belt, Mr. Benoit. Or possibly grab your junk.
Hitman: I was not! Geez, of all the things I do for you people. Come on, Chris, letís get going. Weíve got a long way to go to the summit.
Dreamer: Yeah, now that you mention that, I donít remember the Hollywood hills ever having a pointed summit.
Hitman: Well, you learn something new every day, donít you. You donít know what itís like to be the World Champion, Dreamer.
Dreamer: I was-
Hitman: To carry the whole company on your back.
Dreamer: In ECW-
Hitman: Chris needs somebody to look after him who knows exactly what heís going through. I understand. And if Chris isnít careful, heís going to get screwed out of the title, get kicked in the head, and wander Death Valley in nothing but Hammer pants and a pink vest.
Dreamer: Death Valley?
Hitman: Itís just a figure of speech. I could just as easily have said Halifax or Pensacola.
Dreamer: But you didnít. You said-
Hitman: Listen to him, Chris, always second guessing your decisions. Heís just hoping you die so that he can take the title and run to Vince with it.
Dreamer: What? I am-
Hitman: See? He even admits it! Think about it, what was his biggest push, huh? Jobbing to Justin Credible in sixty seconds.
Dreamer: I had just wrestled a match-
Hitman: Now heís making excuses! How can you trust this guy? Before the Red Rooster crows three times, he will betray you, Chris!
Benoit: I like bunnies.
Hitman: I think the altitude is getting to him.
Dreamer: That and the company.
Hitman: Lose some weight.
Dreamer: Go to hell.
Hitman: Geez. So nasty. Look at this guy, would you, Chris? What an ass. I wish good health for him, and he just gets snitty.
Snitsky: Me?
Hitman: No.
Snitsky: Oh.

Gene throws himself from the cliff. Snitsky has fallen.

In Oceanside, Hogan and Rhyno talkÖ.

Hogan: You know something brother, from the days of the almighty Bruti to the days of The Wall, brother, Vince McMahon has been gathering the Hulkamaniacs, and now Iíve got an army, dude, a legion of fans all calling out for the immortal one to rescue them from the boredom of anything but Hulkamania in the main event brother. So Iím gonna take my vitamins, say my prayers, and then Iím gonna storm No Way Out, brother, and Iím gonna drop the leg on any competition to the McMahon empire once and for all. So whatchugonna do when Hulkamania and these 24 inch pythons run wild on YOU?!
Rhyno: Actually, we had to take the pythons back.
Hogan: What? Whyís that, little dude?
Rhyno: Freaking PETA! The assholes!
Hogan: Well damn. Letís go kill everybody anyway.
Rhyno: What if Flair comes out to protect them again?
Hogan: Donít you worry about Ric Flair, brother. If Flair comes out again, Iím going to say to my man, Jimmy Hart, Iím going to say, ďJimmy, brother, give me Yappappi strap number one, brother!Ē And then Iím going to pull out Yappappi strap number one and Iím goin-
Rhyno: So, heís not going to be a problem?
Hogan: No.

Back in San Diego, rumors are flying.

Akio: I bet Smackdown doesnít even show up!
Spike Dudley: Dude, I didnít know you could speak Engish!
Akio: Iím from frigginí Georgia!
Spike Dudley: Oh no! My world is spinning out of control!
Flair: Shut up, Spike.
Spike Dudley: Geez, what a hard ass.
Flair: I heard that!
Spike Dudley: Sorry, sir.

Inside the arena, Eddie Guerrero is taking an oath.

Foley: I, Eddie Guerrero.
Eddie: I, Eddie Guerrero.
Foley: Do solemnly swear.
Eddie: Swear a lot, holmes.
Foley: To have a nice day.
Eddie: Whatever you just said.
Foley: Good! Now youíre in Mickey Scouts. Our first order of business is finding out the results of last monthís big cookie drive. Who here would like to share how many of the sweet treats they sold?
Edge: Youíre obviously talking to me, Mick, since the only other one in stupid ďMickey ScoutsĒ was Christian, and heís dead.
Foley: How many cookies did you sell, little boy.
Edge: None. This idea was stupid. Iím not going to go door to door selling frigginí awful cookies. Iím a wrestler for Godís sake.
Foley: What kind of attitude is that? Christian sold hundreds of cookies. You always were the weak link of that tag team, Edge, but now that Christianís dead, youíre just plain weak. You make me sick. Eddie here is more of a son to me than you ever will be.
Edge: Thatís fine with me.

Eddie kisses Mickís sock covered hand, and reaches around to swipe his wallet.

Foley: Look at that! Youíre the cutest little rascal arenít you.
Eddie: Oh, yeeeeeah, holmes. Iím so cuuuute.
Foley: Edge, Iíve been thinking. I want you to go back and finish the house show in Oceanside.
Edge: You what?
Foley: Fans have been asking for a refund, and we canít afford to pay them back and still run this PPV. So go finish it.
Edge: Thatís totally heinous, Mick. That place is crawling with McMahonís men, and the fans have long since gone home.
Foley: Come on. Do this one little thing for the Mickster.
Edge: No!
Foley: Just one little teensy-weensy little thing?
Edge: You sit here and tell me how much you think I suck, and then want me to go off and probably die? What do you think I am? Crazy?
Foley: Yep.
Edge: (rolling his eyes) Whoís coming with me?
Foley: Take the cruiserweights.
Eddie: Oh man, esse, youíre gonna get killed.
Edge: You stay out of this. Iím going to do this one last favor for you Mick. One last job. I just hope it makes a difference.
Foley: Letís see what the Magic 8 Ball has for us. ďVery Doubtful.Ē Well, good luck anyway. BANG BANG!

Edge wanders off while Mick dives into a catering table, devouring all the candy. Meanwhile, somewhere that doesnít seem quite so much like the Hollywood Hills anymore, Bret Hart is jamming a stale old, Kane Ice Cream sandwich into Tommy Dreamerís face.

Hitman: Silly, stupid youngsters. You donít even realize that I hired Duke ďThe DumpsterĒ Droese to drive us all to Mount Whitney while you slept. Youíre no closer to WrestleMania now than you were a weak ago, stupid fat wrestler.
Meltzer: What? Why wasnít that in the story.
Alvarez: Droeseís pay per appearance rate is just off the charts.
Meltzer: But they can get away with mentioning him?
Alvarez: Still own the rights to the character name.
Meltzer: Oh, yeahyeahyeahyeah.
Alvarez: I think Iíve regained sensation in my legs, Iím going to make a trip to the bathroom. You want anything?
Meltzer: But youíre going to miss this next exciting section!
Alvarez: Damn. I wish we could just pause the goddamn thing.
Meltzer: We could have if I wouldnít have used those parts to make you.
Alvarez: Say what now?
Meltzer: Nothing, nothing.

Dreamer awakens.

Dreamer: What the hell are you up to?
Hitman: I was justÖuhÖTrying to go over HBearK.
Dreamer: Weíre not in Canada, moron.
Hitman: Yeah well, weíre not in ďECWĒ either, so that means that you donít call the shots around here, ok? Iím showing you a way through Hollywood, and all you can do is cry and whine about my little fantasy of finally beating Michaels. Geez.
Dreamer: Fine, fine. Sorry. Here, have the stupid bear.
Tommy throws HBearK at Bret. It hits Bret in the eye, causing Bret to fall over and HBearK gets the pinfall.
Hitman: GODDAMMIT!
Benoit: Canít we get through one night without commotion?
Dreamer: Night? Itís like, noon, dude.
Benoit: OhÖright. How about lunch?
Dreamer: Let me just open a box ofÖthe WWE Ice Cream. Itís all gone!
Benoit: What?
Dreamer: Bret! Bret must have eaten them all!
Hitman: Donít be ridiculous! Iím lactose intolerant! I canít believe you would insinuate that I would eat an entire box of melted ice cream!
Benoit: Heís right, Tommy. Remember after he ate that cheesy burrito? The screams? The horror? It wasnít Bret.
Hitman: It was probably your fat ass that ate them, Dreamer. Look at that Ice Cream smeared all over your face. It IS! Canít you control your eating habits for a few months, Mr. Dreamer?
Dreamer: Yes, I can. I havenít eaten anything in weeks!
Hitman: See? He was starving! Of course he over ate!

Dreamer picks Bret up and sets up the Spicolli Driver.

Hitman: NO!
Dreamer: Thatís it, itís time to finish you off for good.
Benoit: Put him down, Tommy!

Benoit rips Bret off of Dreamerís shoulders, Bret huddles behind Benoit.

Dreamer: Let me finish his pathetic existence, Mr. Benoit.
Benoit: Donít make me put you in a rest hold!

Benoit goes to put Tommy in a chinlock, but he falls over. Dreamer lifts him up.

Dreamer: Oh no! Youíre over worked, Mr. Benoit. This whole thing is worse than an Iron Man Match.
Benoit: Iím fine. Donít worry about me.
Dreamer: Fine? You can hardly walk anymore. Bret is infecting you with lies. Plus, it must be getting hard to carry that belt with you wherever you go. Looks heavy.
Benoit: (brow furrowed) What? What was that, Tommy?
Dreamer: I said the belt, it looks heavy. I could carry it for a few miles. Just Ďtil we get to the top of the hill.

The words echo in Benoitís mind. He chops Tommy.

Benoit: Youíre a liar and a thief!
Dreamer: Am not!
Hitman: You are too, you little bum. We Canadians, we have to stick together. We understand.
Dreamer: I donít want to be champion. Just to carry the belt for him. Like a manager or something.
Benoit: Bret is right, Tommy. Youíre no good to me anymore. You just donít understand.
Dreamer: Listen to yourself, Mr. Benoit! Iím the face! Not Bret! Donít you turn heel on me!
Benoit: I donít need another tag partner, Tommy. Donít need another manager. Your time is over.
Dreamer: Certainly you could use a towel boy or a valet!
Benoit: Go back to Smackdown, Tommy. Go Home.

Benoit and Bret continue their assent, while Tommy sits perched on the edge of the cliff, crying.


The Lord of the Reign
The Return of the King of the Ring

Volume III, Chapter Five
ďIn Which Chris Jericho gets both the Lamest Gift and Advice EverĒ

Edge is in the front seat of his rented station wagon. As he drives out of town, producers and stagehands cry, knowing his fate. Ric Flair runs up alongside him.

Flair: Edge! Edge! Donít listen to Foley! That guyís a nut! Do you really want to break your neck again, or worse, listening to a fat guy who loves Christmas and Winnie the Pooh a little too much for a guy his age?
Edge: Heís my booker. I do what he asks. Now he asks me for one final job.
Flair: Fine! Just so I donít have to say it later, ďI told you so.Ē

Edge rides off. Mick is still eating.

Foley: Hey, Eddie. Do you know any Christmas tunes?
Eddie: UhÖno. Sorry, holmes.
Foley: Well sing me something, dammit!
Eddie: Oh, thereís a monkey in my pocket-

Vinceís army begins chucking things at Edge and the Cruiserweightsí cars. Several of them go careening out of control, including Edgeís.

Eddie: And heís stealing all my change-

Rhyno lowers his head and Gores through Edgeís car, throwing Edge across the street.

Eddie: His stare is blank and glassy-

Ric Flair slumps down into a chair and shakes his head.

Eddie: I suspect he is deranged!
Foley: Good one!
Eddie: Man, this is messed up, right here, holmes. Your top draw just died out there!
Foley: That means his spot just opened on my card!
Eddie: Really? I mean, I-
Foley: Go find out if Scotty 2 Hotty survived and see if heíll do it.
Eddie: Sigh. Yes, sir.

Paul Heyman is at the Smackdown campsite, taking attendance.

Heyman: So how many more guys were you able to bring in?
Dupree: I gotÖuhÖSteve Corino?
Heyman: Ok. That sucks, but Iíll take it.
Long: Playa, we just got in another busload of crappy Hollywood writers.
Heyman: Excellent. Thatíll show McMahon that we mean business. What about Dudleys?
Long: I havenít seen no Dudleys, buhleedat.

Chris Jericho saunters up.

Jericho: ECW rejects and lame Hollywood writers. What is this? XPW?
Heyman: Donít make me nail you with this cellphone. Of course Iím not happy with this, but you take what you can get when youĎre a promoter, ok? Besides, we donít have near enough porn stars to be XPW.
Dupree: That bus of porn stars you ordered just showed up.
Heyman: WellÖwe still donít have half-
Dupree: The second one too.
Heyman: Shut up, Rene! Iím sure more wrestlers will come. People loved working for me back in ECW.
Jericho: Weíre running out of time.
Cole: No Way Out is only 3 Days Away, Live and on Pay Per View! Call your cable or satellite provider now to order!
Heyman: Then we will have to hurry, wonít we?

Stacy, Orton and Tazz are sitting around. The cruiserweights are getting fidgety.

Orton: Whatís their problem? Are they trembling in fear of my awesome helmet? Donít tremble little men!
Cena: I donít think itís the cap theyíre afraid of, my man, itís that building down there.
Tazz: Down where?
Cena: DOWN THERE!
Tazz: AHAHAHAHAHA! Way to point at your crotch.
Orton: Thatís the Caulifloly Club. My dad goes there some times to yell at old people.
Cena: Ortonís right, man. That place is for crotchety old wrestlers. Older than old school. Just beiní around Ďem gives me the willies. Like theyíre gonna come out and nail me with their walkers, you know?
Tazz: Oh, I know the feeling. Trust me. I used ta hang out with Missy Hyatte.
Cena: Hey, Thesz, suck on DEEZ NUTS!

Cena runs and hides behind one of the tents, seeing if heís drawn a reaction. Chris Jericho stares at the Cauliflower Alley Club.

Tazz: Chris, youíre not near old enough yet. Letís go throw things on top of their roof. Weíll start with Orton.

Later that night, Stacy Keibler is helping Chavo Guerrero prepare for the Pay Per View.

Stacy: And weíll add a dash of color there. There. You look great!
Chavo: Stacy, Iím wearing a dress.
Stacy: Yes you are! Youíll be the belle of the ball!
Chavo: UhÖIím supposed to wrestle, mamacita, not a prance around.
Stacy: Now try some moves!

Chavo tries to throw a dropkick, but he canít in the heels.

Chavo: Ok. This sucks.
Stacy: Keep on trying! I know youíll do it eventually.

Chavo stumbles off. John Cena comes in.

Cena: What was that about?
Stacy: I was just helping Chavo try on a dress.
Cena: What? Why?
Stacy: Iím making my own womenís division!
Cena: Stacy, donít be stupid. Women shouldnít wrestle.
Stacy: I should too wrestle! We should all wrestle! Women love to wrestle!
Cena: Whatever. Go back to your lingerie pillow fights. Iím out.

Cena storms out. Chris Jericho, meanwhile, snoozes on. White clouds and Trish Stratus fill his dreams.

Trish: I hate it when you grow that goofy looking beard.
Jericho: In my defense, itís been months since I had a chance to shave.
Trish: Iím just saying, I totally wonít make out with you now. Not even in this dream.
Jericho: Then why am I having it? I mean, this has to be important somehow, right?

Trish grabs the cleavage pendant and throws it in the imaginary trash.

Trish: You donít need this any more. Youíll get the real things soon enough.
Jericho: Oh, awesome! Boobies!
Trish: Yes, boobies. Now wake up.

Jericho awakes with a start, nearly crashing into Paul London.

London: Aieee! Paul Heyman is here to see you!
Heyman: I just came in to steal a bagel. See ya.
Shane McMahon: Hi, Chris.
Jericho: Shane?
Shane McMahon: Trish Stratus is dying.
Jericho: What?
Shane McMahon: Dying to tell you that sheís staying in the U.S. But she couldnít come here to tell you herself because sheís packing all her stuff. Also, her implants are leaking, and sheís got to find her own money to pay for that. Iím certainly not going to do it anymore.
Jericho: So the cleavage is going into the garbage.
Shane McMahon: UhÖsure. Whatever you say. Listen, Chris. Armageddon is almost upon us.
Jericho: No itís not. Armageddon isnít until December.
Shane McMahon: Not that Armageddon. The one where everybody dies. Wrestlemania, the Undisputed title, itís all coming to a head.
Jericho: And weíll beat your father. WeĎll beat Vince.
Shane McMahon: Yo, yo, yo. Not so fast, Chris. If I know my dad, and I think I do, heís not just going to attack No Way Out from the house show. Heís going to flank you all by sailing in on novelty restored pirate ships.
Jericho: Furnas and LaFon!
Shane McMahon: Of course. Loaded with rudos and TNA rejects.
Jericho: TNA has rejects?
Shane McMahon: A sad state of affairs, I know. You need a bigger draw than what you have, even now.
Jericho: Weíre all the hell out of wrestlers, Shane. Everybodyís already picked a side or dead.
Shane McMahon: Maybe, then, you need to start looking into the past for wrestling help.
Jericho: Time travel?
Shane McMahon: Old retirees.
Jericho: You mean those old windbags? Theyíll never help this generation. They hate us.
Shane McMahon: They hate my dad more. And they will answer to the heir of Sting.

Shane pulls out Stingís glued together bat, which he hands to Jericho.

Jericho: Stingís bat. Great.
Shane McMahon: Stingís bat, which struck down the nWo the first time, and struck my father down. I spent hours trying to glue the damned thing together, now go hit somebody with it!
Jericho: I think Vince will remember being hit with this thing.
Shane McMahon: Doubtful. My dad can hardly be relied on to remember what happened last week.
Jericho: Then I will go to No Way Out.
Shane McMahon: Bring the elders with you. Youíre sure to sell out then, even to the most jaded fans. Youíre not just Chris Jericho anymore, youíre Chris Jericho, Living Legend.
Jericho: Might want to tone that down a little bit, or Larry Zbyszko will never join us.
Shane McMahon: So?
Jericho: Good point.
Shane McMahon: Well, Iím off. Hopefully, looking back, this will have meant something.
Jericho: Or else it will have no point whatsoever. Either way, Iím gonna put this on E-Bay when this is all over.

Shane leaves. Stacy Keibler enters.

Stacy: So youíre going to the old folkís home rather than to the Pay Per View. Youíre our top guy! You canít, like, leave me!
Jericho: You canít possibly understand. I really mean that. You canít possibly understand.
Stacy: Can too!
Jericho: Do you love me, Stacy?
Stacy: Ew! No! I mean, kind of. Yes.
Jericho: Honey, youíve got a great ass, but Iím a boobs man. You cannot give me what I seek.

Stacy storms off in tears. Jericho heads off in the direction of the Cauliflower Alley Club. Tazz and Orton run up.

Tazz: Brotha, Iím cominí with you.
Jericho: I really donít need anybody tagging along with me. Theyíre likely to stretch you out.
Tazz: Iíll choke Ďem out, then. Theyíre doomed, brotha.
Orton: Plus, Iíll give any of them that mess with you an RKO!
Tazz: If you can see them.
Orton: Of course I can see them.

Orton walks into a tree.

Orton: Big Show! I thought I finished you back in Mississippi.

Orton flails around, trying to set the tree up for an RKO. Finally, heís dragged off by Jericho and Tazz. The wrestlers are confused.

Haas: Where the hell is he going? The PPV is over this way!
Miss Jackie: Come on, Charlie. Itís obvious that he hates us.
Theodore Long: Itís obvious to me that he doesnít believe in Smackdown, buhleedat.
Heyman: Heís leaving because we need something bigger than Chris Jericho headlining our Pay Per View.
Theodore Long: Weíre in trouble, playa. No way we can beat McMahon with this crap.
Heyman: Nope. But Iíll be damned if we donít try to put on the best show we can, and make No Way Out the biggest show of the year!

To Be ContinuedÖ



Tonight I wanna ruin my life,
I wanna throw it all away,
In a spectacular way
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DISCLAIMER: I didn't really read all of this...I just wanted to see if you'd found me in the crowd or not. But since I'm here... This redundancy seems a little redundant. ;-)
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