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[RAW] Digest Number 513

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empireman

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Sep 30, 2001, 1:34:48 PM9/30/01

www.raw-empire.co.uk

Date: Friday, September 28, 2001 12:58
------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are 25 messages in this issue.

Topics in this digest:

1. The winner and still NA champion.......
From: offor...@hotmail.com
2. And now, Creed...
From: "Earl Burbridge" <ayeem...@hotmail.com>
3. Evolution (Part five): The Walking Target
From: Travis LaGrange <travisl...@yahoo.com>
4. You just stepped over that line
From: offor...@hotmail.com
5. You just stepped over that line . Proper version
From: offor...@hotmail.com
6. World Title Belt Cleaning Guide
From: "Neil McDougall" <mad_d...@tdef.freeserve.co.uk>
7. One last battle . . .
From: athu...@law.uiuc.edu
8. Re: One Last Battle
From: "John J. Kuczynski" <kuc...@yahoo.com>
9. -[Stepping Stones.]-[RAW]
From: Guerril...@aol.com
10. Mail Call
From: "Frank Byrns" <frank...@hotmail.com>
11. Let's Make A Deal
From: "milhouse" <milh...@execulink.com>
12. Wrestlebowl 3
From: "Jake Kane" <empi...@ntlworld.com>
13. Last minute reminder
From: Jake Kane <empi...@ntlworld.com>
14. Surveying the scene...
From: sol...@msn.com
From: athu...@law.uiuc.edu
17. The 'Terrors ride again
From: William Harrison <af...@chebucto.ns.ca>
18. Alan Mangan and Power O'One in a state of the game address...
From: "Dave Brooks" <bowlinda...@hotmail.com
20. Who would have guessed?
From: wwsha...@aol.com
21. Storm on the horizon
From: "Matt Filipek" <fli...@hotmail.com>
22. Match-writers
From: "Jake Kane" <empi...@ntlworld.com>
23. RAW House Show (28 September 2001)
From: "Jake Kane" <empi...@ntlworld.com>
24. Why Dirty Doug needs to mind his business
From: athu...@law.uiuc.edu

________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

Message: 1
Date: Wed, 26 Sep 2001 13:31:28 -0000
From: offor...@hotmail.com
Subject: The winner and still NA champion.......

[ We open up in the locker room after Raw Report. We see Ronny
Ramirez on his own. He is wearing black jeans and showing off his
muscular and slightly hairy torso. On his shoulder is The North
American Title]

Ramirez: What di I say? I told you cretins that this title belongs to
me, it is me. The North American title proves to all of you idiots
that I am the best there is today. Once again I had two pretenders to
my throne. And once again I dismantled them. Marcus Wilson and Judas
Priest , two of the brightest up and comers in Raw. What happened
when they got a North American title shot??? I MUTHA F***IN'
DESTROYED BOTH THEIR ASSES!! I told you both not to enter my fortress
but you didn't listen. Two Iconic Gestures and another convincing win
for The Icon.

[ Pause]

Ramirez: I have established title to be worth something. Know that
this title will never leave my side. With this new attitude I have
been unbeaten and as I said before anyone who gets in my way will be
beaten like a dog. I am invincible right now. This brings me Garland
Frost. Gar, you are one of the best newcomers I seen in awhile, hell
since I first joined. The New Breed enlisted you because you are
tough as nails and one hell of a wrestler. I trusted you but then
the shit hit the fan. Things turned for the worse

[ Ronny strokes the NA title]

Ramirez: Gar, however tough you are , you'll go down. You'll join the
list of incompetent fools who have tried and failed to beat me. Gar,
you are great but there is no chance in hell that you are worthy of a
title shot just yet. You are certainly not worthy of facing a living
legend like Ronny Ramirez. You see however much I respect you, and I
do, this mean streak in me is coming to the fore. It has to be
unleashed on someone. And that man is you. Garland, you of the girly
name, you have been brought forward to the slaughter. Thank
Spikowksi, Helmroy or whoever for pushing you to be the sacrificial
lamb. This is not about you, Gar, it is about venting and your ass
has been thrown into the lions den and there is no way you can
survive.

[ Another pause]

Ramirez: But what I want most of all is Travis LaGrange. Travis, you
the so called sexy boy, against The Icon of Cool. You like the gold
dripping around your waist doncha? Well boy, anywhere you want it ,
I'll put this title on the line. The same goes for the fat shit,
Bennett or even that big freak, Creed or Tonnage. I want main
eventers and I want them now. If none of you answer this challenge,
I'll be forced to hunt you down like the pathetic little rabbits you
are.

[ With that we fade]

________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

Message: 2
Date: Wed, 26 Sep 2001 09:04:29 -0500
From: "Earl Burbridge" <ayeem...@hotmail.com>
Subject: And now, Creed...

[Thomas Creighton has returned to RAW, and has apparently allied himself
with WAR!, although none of the actual WAR! members have acknowledged him as
a teammate. He just won a four man, iron-man match at Raw Report, in what
could be considered an upset, with the level of talent in the ring for that
match. Tommy's in the parking lot of the Tarrant County Convention Center,
cleaned up from his match, and leaning against his white pickup truck.]

TC: Well, I guess tonight, I taught them all what it really means to be a
brawler. I thought that Spiky was a legend. Maybe only in his own mind. I
thought that Stevie was supposed to be some insane prodigy. One fall,
that's all. You'll have to do better than that. And "Gelid" Garland Frost.
I used your whole name. I'm not going to play my teammate Tonnage's games,
and rhyme, or misspeak, or anything. I'm just going to say that you should
go back under whatever rock you crawled out from under, because ya know
what? You didn't show me anything, either. You'd have never even gotten me
on my back, let alone pin me, in a one on one match. Don't let it go to
your head, okay?

[Tommy reaches under the ever-present tarp that covers the back of his
truck, and pulls out a bottle of Coke.]

TC: What? Okay. I've got a match against Vic Creed coming up. It's a
match that I wanted, since the day that I joined RAW the first time. And a
match that I never got. Vic, you thought I was an insignificant speck. At
the time, I guess I was. You went on to become RAW's most impressive
champion, bar none. I went on to become RAW's most impressive North
American champion. Bar none. But, I always wanted my shot at you, and it
never came. I'm getting that shot. And I'm gonna make the most of it...

[Tommy unscrews the cap... and the soda explodes all over his jeans and blue
windbreaker.]

TC: Sheee.... sh.

[He looks up at the camera.]

TC: Cut that out, before you send this in, okay? And pick up here. Vic,
you've got troubles. You've got the shenanigans that Travis LaGrange is
pulling. That's got to be preying on your mind. You've got that masked guy
chasing you. I can hear the wheels turning in your head now. Is it
Drysdale? Is it Okkid? Is it Mike Slater? That's distracting you, too.
Me? I've only got a little thing called Neil McDougall on my mind. And
I've got guys to watch my back. Your New Breed seems to have disintegrated.
You're a man without a country. RAW doesn't want you, WAR doesn't want
you. You're all alone, guy. Think about it. Maybe you should just pack it
in, before this masked guy embarrasses you again. 'cause he WILL do it, you
know.

[Tommy pulls himself into his truck, and turns his key.]

TC: Don't worry, I won't be TOO hard on you, Vic.

[Fade to black.]

"And a lean, silent figure slowly fades into the gathering darkness, aware
at last that in this world, with great power there must also come -- great
responsibility" Stan Lee, Amazing Fantasy #15

________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

Message: 3
Date: Wed, 26 Sep 2001 08:09:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: Travis LaGrange <travisl...@yahoo.com>
Subject: Evolution (Part five): The Walking Target

["The Sexy Boy" Travis LaGrange sits on a large
sectional couch in the front yard of large estate,
surrounded by beautiful women of all shapes and
colors. He's dressed in designer clothing and is
drinking champagne as movers unload a moving van.]

LaGrange: Ya know, jealousy is a terrible, horrible
thing.

[Sips champagne.]

Jealousy can make people do things they'd never do ...
stupid things. They run off at the mouth and say
things without thinking.

Do you honestly think Ronny Ramirez thinks? I don't.

Obviously the grease is sinking into his brain. He
blows up a trailer, he kills his only family ties ...
and why?

Because of me. Because of jealousy.

Ronny you're a puppet. A puppet that dances when I
pull the strings. You do what I want you to do, you
say what I want you to say.

[How ironic, ain't it?]

You don't hold the North American title because you
earned it, you hold the North American title because I
ALLOW IT!

I helped you, I tutored you, I pushed you and how do
you thank me? TLG gets a little World Title success
and what do you do? You turn on me ... you all did.
You see the man who elevated you to the top and you
bite the very hand that fed you ... made you.

Can I help it that I'm better than you are? Can I help
it that I'm smarter, braver and stronger than you are?

Jealousy ... hmmph. What a wasted emotion.

[WHAT A HYPOCRITE.]

Tommy Creighton, is jealous of me; Kirk Maclean, is
JEALOUS of me; Tonnage is jealous of me ... William
Bennett, the Masked Man ... jealous.

Vic Creed, Ronny Ramirez ... jealous.

[Starts to get on a roll. Sing-songy.]

Spikyjim, SRM, Derek Zenzation, this whole nation,
some dumb bimbo, no sirerembo, charry barry ruchie
pickberry pimbo!!!

THEY'RE ALL JEALOUS!!!

And why not? I AM the very personification of a
champion. I pop the crowd and can draw heat just by
lifting a manipulating finger. I'm a great performer
and a great wrassler. And I am, quite frankly, the
Sultan of Sex Symbols.

[Girls shake their heads and agree and giggle]

I'm all the things you wished you could be ... if you
just had some talent, some good looks and some
charisma.

I'm the "Walking Target"! The Sexy Boy! The Great
American Sex Symbol! The CHAMP!! The one ... and only
T-L-G!!!

My name is on the lips of every person in RAW and WAR,
my T-Shirts are on the backs of every fan of RAW ...
at the same time I'm putting wrestlers on their backs
in the ring for a three count ... and women on their
backs in the bed for hours at a time.

[Girls giggle.]

Which brings me to RAW at WAR ...

Everyone knows Neil McDougall can't handle TLG ... so
how do we make this interesting? How can I pop a
decent television number against a man that is
obviously beneath me?

Oh, Neil thinks he might be able to last 15 minutes in
the ring with the 60-minute man, but when it comes to
going the distance, you just ain't got it, Scotty.

[Fake scottish accent, parodying the original
Enterprise's chief engineer.]

You'll be givin' it all she's got ... you'll be
pushin' the envelope ... you be sayin' to the fans, I
can't do it, capitan, I'm not a miracle worker, I
can't beat Travis LaGrange!!

[drops accent.]

I am the champ, Scotsman and I didn't get that way
from waving a wand over a hat and pullin' a belt out.
I'm the champ because I'm the best there is to offer
in RAW and WAR.

Just ask Tanya ... your ex-old lady knows first hand
how hard it is to "whip" Travis LaGrange ...

YOU CAN'T DO IT!!!

You can't do it, Neil-o.

How will you do something that can't be done?
How will you fly, if I break your leg?
How can you pin someone if you can't get off your
back?

And how much of a chance do you really stand against,
the Sexy Boy when the only chances you had of beating
me in the first place were NIL and NONE?

See ya at RAW at War, sweetheart ... oh, and wear that
little skirt ya borrowed from Tanya, It'll remind me
of what a pus...

[Helmroy walks into the picture and shakes his head
"no". (It's against Creative Control's rules for
Travis to cuss.)]

Really non-tough guy you are ...

[Live feed quits rolling as Travis turns to Helmroy
and drops the "proper" american accent he was trained
for by the world's greatest acting coaches.]

LaGrange: What in the hell was that for?!! Ya ruint a
perfectly good promo, ya dumbsh ...

Helmroy: How many times do I have to remind you,
Travis ... you cuss, and you lose everything ... and
give me that champagne glass.

[Snatches glass out of Travis' hand before he can take
a drink.]

Helmroy: Did you drink this? You know alcohol is
against the rules, too, didn't you?

LaGrange [lying]: Um ... no.

Dammit, Helmroy! What ain't against tha rules? Huh?!

Helmroy: Well, sex isn't against the rules.

[LaGrange's eyes get wide.]

LaGrange: Good point. Girls shall we participate in a
little bit of a ...

[Stops to count ... 1 ... 2 ... 3... 4 ...]

Nine-way?

[Girls giggle and follow Travis up to the house.]

LaGrange [in the distance]: YEEE-HAH!!!

Helmroy [calling out]: TRAVIS!!!

[in the distance.]

LaGrange: I know, I know ... against the rules.

[fade to black.]

__________________________________________________
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Get email alerts & NEW webcam video instant messaging with Yahoo! Messenger.
http://im.yahoo.com

________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

Message: 4
Date: Wed, 26 Sep 2001 16:29:25 -0000
From: offor...@hotmail.com
Subject: You just stepped over that line

[ We open up in Las Vegas. We are in a penthouse and we see retired
wrestler Drake Zensation watching Travis LaGrange's promo. He lies on
the couch laughing at his jibes about Ramirez]

Drake: He da man and all dat. Mutha isa funny guy meiser finks.

[ There is a bang and Ronny Ramirez walks through the door. Drake
turns round]

Drake: Shit. Meiser in trouble now

Ramirez: Drake, I thought I had evicted you

Drake: No sir. Hey, big man. Youssa wanna see whatsa mesier done wit
your windows

Ramirez: No but you gonna show me anyways

[ They walks over to the window. Drake shows some window flower
boxes.]

Ramirez:Beautiful, kid.

[ Drake smiles but within a second Ramirez throws Drake through the
windows and he falls 10 stories. He doesn't die. He lands on garbage
truck. Ramirez doesn't know this.]

Ramirez: I am fed up with these idiots hanging on to my coat tails.

[ Ronny sits down on the couch, his NA title draped over his left
shoulder. He sees the paused picture of Travis LaGrange. He watches
the tape over and begins seething]

Ramirez: That is it. I am sick and tired of this horse shit. Travis,
you pathetic sell out. I aint jealous of you. Oh no. You and I were
friends for awhile. I remember when we went down the strip and you
tried to chase the skirt but they ran into my arms. You are not a
sexy boy. You might be sexy to big, fat, obese , fifty somethings
with moustaches but not to the sexy gals. Sexy chicks dig me because
I am cool and you are just a retarded redneck that believes something
that an eighty year old hooker told you and used it as a gimmick.

[ He pulls his NA title down onto his lap]

Ramirez: Wanna know why I tried to kill my fmaily ties...? Because
they just wnated part of my fame. I am the spotlight , I live it
every day of my life. You really are deluded. You never got me to do
nuthin'. I did things I wanted to do. Stop living inside your own ass
and buy yourself a god damn clue. This title is mine 'cause you allow
it? Bull shit and you know it. Were you there when I won it? No! Were
you then when I beat Wolfgang? NO! Were you there when I beat Aaron
Iron? NO! Were you there at Raw Report? NO! So I guess you
contradicted yourself once more. Remember it was me that issued the
challenge against you. I never asked for your title to be on the
line, just mine. You see how can I be jealous of your title when I
don't even want a title shot? You see your incoherent ramblings again
show your inept attempts at gettign to me. I known you too long,
dumbass.

[ Ramirez has a sick smile on his face]

Ramirez: How did you help me? I think you'll find I helped you. I was
the one that layed down for you see you could get the Capital title
all those months ago. I did it for you. I wanted you to help you
become a success here. You did. You did it all because of me , so
don't turn the tables and pretend liek you the big man all of a
sudden. Lets see you think you're better? Hmmmm OF COURSE YOU AINT!
You think you are so great because you beat Bennett. I beat him
already. You may be smarter but in that ring I have all the smarts in
the world. Braver? well if you call going through tables brave then
we equal. If you call using weapons brave then you are. I don't need
any onjects to win my matches. I do it through wrestling skills
which, quite frankly, you aint got. And kiddo, I am far stronger than
you'll ever be. I am willing to show you or will you cry to Helmroy
and say Ramirez is after me. Help me Sugar Daddy. You are just plain
pathetic, Travis. You still fail to accept the challenge. It figures.

[ Ramirez stands up holding his NA title aloft]

Ramirez: Travis, I got news for ya. You may own the World titles but
wouldn't it be better to hold the top two titles in the fed? Of
course it would. It would feed your over inflated ego. So why not
step up to the plate? Is the Sexy Texy running scared? You had better
watch yor back, LaGrange. I am coming for you with everything in my
power. I got backing on this venture by many of the superstars in
this fed. They wnat you out, I want you out. By whatebver means
necessary we will kick your ass out of this fed.

[ Ronny dials a number and puts it on speakerphone]

Voice: Eric Helmroy. Talent relations Director of Raw

Ramirez: Helmroy....

Helmroy: Ronny Ramirez?

Ramirez: What the f*** do you think?

Helmroy: Hi Ronny. You are doing a brilliant job with that North
American title

Ramirez: Well of course I am. Stop buttering me up

Helmroy: So Ronny, what do you want? A new contract? We'll draw you
up a new one.

Ramirez: No! I want Travis LaGrange at Internecine. Title Versus
title. Whatever stipulations he wants... I wnat a piece of that low
life.

Helmroy: Well I don't know...

Ramirez: You are up each oter's asses. You either make the match or I
will personally come over there and stick this NA title right up your
ass and rip off your scrotom.. you got me

Helmroy: er...

Ramirez: Make the match, asswipe

[ Ramirez slams his title through the phone as we fade]

________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

Message: 5
Date: Wed, 26 Sep 2001 16:44:12 -0000
From: offor...@hotmail.com
Subject: You just stepped over that line . Proper version

OOC: Proper version with all spelling mistakes fixed. Damn my spell
check. Anyway, happy birthday to me. Sees yas later

[ We open up in Las Vegas. We are in a penthouse and we see retired
wrestler Drake Zensation watching Travis LaGrange's promo. He lies on
the couch laughing at his jibes about Ramirez]

Drake: He da man and all dat. Mutha isa funny guy meiser finks.

[ There is a bang and Ronny Ramirez walks through the door. Drake
turns round]

Drake: Shit. Meiser in trouble now

Ramirez: Drake, I thought I had evicted you

Drake: No sir. Hey, big man. Youssa wanna see whatsa mesier done wit
your windows

Ramirez: No but you gonna show me anyways

[ They walk over to the window. Drake shows some window flower
boxes.]

Ramirez:Beautiful, kid.

[ Drake smiles but within a second Ramirez throws Drake through the
windows and he falls 10 stories. He doesn't die. He lands on garbage
truck. Ramirez doesn't know this.]

Ramirez: I am fed up with these idiots hanging on to my coat tails.

[ Ronny sits down on the couch, his NA title draped over his left
shoulder. He sees the paused picture of Travis LaGrange. He watches
the tape over and begins seething]

[ He pulls his NA title down onto his lap]

Ramirez: Wanna know why I tried to kill my fmaily ties...? Because
they just wanted part of my fame. I am the spotlight , I live it
every day of my life. You really are deluded. You never got me to do
nuthin'. I did things I wanted to do. Stop living inside your own ass
and buy yourself a god damn clue. This title is mine 'cause you allow
it? Bull shit and you know it. Were you there when I won it? No! Were
you then when I beat Wolfgang? NO! Were you there when I beat Aaron
Iron? NO! Were you there at Raw Report? NO! So I guess you
contradicted yourself once more. Remember it was me that issued the
challenge against you. I never asked for your title to be on the
line, just mine. You see, how can I be jealous of your title when I
don't even want a title shot? You see your incoherent ramblings again
show your inept attempts at getting to me. I known you too long,
dumbass.

[ Ramirez has a sick smile on his face]

Ramirez: How did you help me? I think you'll find I helped you. I was
the one that layed down for you see you could get the Capital title
all those months ago. I did it for you. I wanted you to help you
become a success here. You did. You did it all because of me , so
don't turn the tables and pretend like you the big man all of a
sudden. Lets see, you think you're better? Hmmmm.... OF COURSE YOU
AINT!
You think you are so great because you beat Bennett. I beat him
already. You may be smarter but in that ring I have all the smarts in
the world. Braver? Well if you call going through tables brave then
we are equal. If you call using weapons brave then you are. I don't
need
any objects to win my matches. I do it through wrestling skills
which, quite frankly, you aint got. And kiddo, I am far stronger than
you'll ever be. I am willing to show you or will you cry to Helmroy
and say.. "Ramirez is after me. Help me Sugar Daddy." You are just
plain
pathetic, Travis. You still fail to accept the challenge. It figures.

[ Ramirez stands up holding his NA title aloft]

Ramirez: Travis, I got news for ya. You may own the World titles but
wouldn't it be better to hold the top two titles in the fed? Of
course it would. It would feed your over inflated ego. So why not
step up to the plate? Is the Sexy Texy running scared? You had better
watch yor back, LaGrange. I am coming for you with everything in my
power. I got backing on this venture by many of the superstars in
this fed. They want you out, I want you out. By whatever means
necessary we will kick your ass out of this fed.

[ Ronny dials a number and puts it on speakerphone]

Voice: Eric Helmroy. Talent relations Director of the Raw wrestling
federation

Ramirez: Helmroy....

Helmroy: Ronny Ramirez?

Ramirez: What the f*** do you think?

Helmroy: Hi Ronny. You are doing a brilliant job with that North
American title

Ramirez: Well of course I am. Stop buttering me up

Helmroy: So Ronny, what do you want? A new contract? We'll draw you
up a new one. How much do you want?

Ramirez: No! I want Travis LaGrange at Internecine. Title Versus
title. Whatever stipulations he wants... I want a piece of that low
life.

Helmroy: Well I don't know...

Ramirez: You are up each oter's asses. You either make the match or I
will personally come over there and stick this NA title right up your
ass and rip off your scrotom.. you got me

Helmroy: er...

Ramirez: Make the match, asswipe

[ Ramirez slams his title through the phone as we fade]

________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

Message: 6
Date: Wed, 26 Sep 2001 19:11:38 +0100
From: "Neil McDougall" <mad_d...@tdef.freeserve.co.uk>
Subject: World Title Belt Cleaning Guide

[We open to a gym somewhere in Washington D.C. Pummelling away on a
speedbag is YOUR NON-AMERICAN, NON-OLYMPIC HERO, and NUMER ONE F'N
CONTENDER, "The Flying Scotsman" Neil McDougall. Fists taped, clad in an 'I
Retired Nick Demola' T-shirt and tracksuit pants, sweat dripping, face grim.
Just under two hundred pounds of pure, undiluted, fat-free BADASS.

With a nasty leaping spin kick, Scotty ends his training and glasres at the
camera.]

NMD: The time has come. Destiny is at hand. The Sellout Boy's title reign
comes to an end in his first defence, and the world will witness yet another
tragedy, or rather, witness how truly tragic it was for LaGrange to be
holding those belts in the first place, because, we all know it, the fans
all know it, hell, Eric Helmroy knows it.

Travis LaGrange is a JOKE.

What happened, LaGrange? Where's the psychotic son of a bitch that tore up
the ranks in PCWF? Where's the f*cked up nut-bar that the PCWF mainstays
feared like they feared the IRS and the Grim Reaper? Now, all that's left
is a pathetic, hollow, gutless shell of a man...no, a human...no,
a...a...THING, that takes more pride in hopping into a hot-tub with Playboy
Bunnies #134-#141 than getting in the squared circle and do what he used to
do best.

Travis, I know you'll be watching this, so I want you to do something for
me. I know, I know, I can't pay you to do it, which seems to be your
primary motivation these days, but do it as a favour for your old PCWF
drinking buddy, mmkay?

[...]

NMD: Okay Travis, I want you to pick up your WAR World Heavyweight Title,
and place it in your left hand. You know the one you *don't* play Slap the
Salami with. Now with your right, I want you to pick up a cloth, and gently
polish your belt. Looking good now? Okay, put your belt down somewhere
safe...NO! Not like that! LEATHER SIDE DOWN!

[McDougall grins.]

NMD: You with me so far? Good. Okay, now take your RAW World Heavyweight
Title, take your cloth and clean your other belt just like you did the last
one. NO! Don't put that belt down! Put the CLOTH down this time. Good.

Now take your WAR World Heavyweight Title in your left hand and your RAW
World Heavyweight Title in your right. Don't angle them too close to each
other, the multiple reflections will make you go crosseyed...oh, hang on,
you're crosseyed anyway, what with all the dolphin flogging you do. Right.
You see your face in both your belts, right? Good.

Now, bring your face closer to the RAW World Heavyweight title, and give it
a kiss. you know, that thing you do with your mouth with all the
strippers...NO! DON'T LICK IT! Yes...that's it, just a gentle peck
now...it's not like it's wearing a boob tube and after your money. Good,
now, do the same for the WAR belt. JESUS H. CHRIST CRAP ON A STICK! WHAT
DID I SAY ABOUT THE LICKING!?

Excellent. Was that nice? Yes, I thought so.

Okay, I know what you're thinking, Trav. 'When do I get my next
paycheque?', 'Where are those hookers Eric ordered?', amongst other things,
but amongst all those random, meaningless, shallow thoughts lies 'why the
hell did I just kiss my title belts?'

It's simple, really, champ. Those two fond kisses were your kisses goodbye,
because come RAW AT WAR, I'm walking in as the Number One Contender, and I'm
walking out Unified Champion. And if you don't believe me, ask the men I've
put away, ask the men I've taken to the furthest limits of their abilities.
My time is here, my time is NOW, and I shall not be denied...let Juggernaut
try to ruin things. Let Thomas Creighton try to get his hands on me.
They'll be walking home with their asses in slings and regretting EVER
crossing me.

Fire up? You better BELIEVE I'm fired up. Yes, RAW lost at Wrestlebowl,
but the man, or men, responsible are no longer involved with the company.
And now, RAW's leadership falls...to me. I am the ONLY MAN that can bring
this title home, and bring it home I will. Travis...call your m-

[But before Neil-o-Mac can get the catchphrase out, there is a cough from
behind him...]

*AHEM!*

[See?]

CM: Ut oh, psycho hose beast alert.

[Neil-o-mac turns...]

NMD: Where?

[And just as quickly turns back toward the camera.]

NMD: Oh, shit, I made eye contact.

[The camera peeks over Neil's shoulders to see Tanya Maynard walk into the
gym, a grim expression on her youthful features.]

TM: Hey! Neil!

[McDougall sighs, turns around...]

NMD: Yes?

[...And with that, we fade.]

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Message: 7
Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 01:40:28 -0000
From: athu...@law.uiuc.edu
Subject: One last battle . . .

Midnight: Kirk MacLean is making plans. Isn't that incredible?
This fool has the nerve to contemplate a career after the Texas Death
Match he is going to have against me at Raw at War. I would laugh,
but what I plan on doing to him isn't funny at all so I will save the
humor for after I smack his bloody and useless body to the ground for
that last time. To say this has gone on long enough would be an
understatement. We have went to the ring, to a steel cage, to a
legal battle and now we have the one environment appropriate to us.
No DQ. No rules. No limit to the amount of suffer I plan on putting
him through.

Midnight: Kirk I have to give you some credit. I never thought you
would last this long. I thought you going to go away by now. By
failing to do so your going to make yourself a legend. But not for
the reasons you wanted to be one. People are going to talk about our
match at Raw at War for years to come. They are going to remember it
as the night that Kirk MacLean finally pushed Jason Midnight too far
and got a beating beyond description as a reward for it. They are
going to remember it as the night that Jason Midnight fought without
regard for his safety or the safety of anybody in that area. It will
be the night that Jason Midnight pushes the limits of violence in a
federation where violence has become the norm. And, most
importantly, it will be the end of the Midnight v. MacLean fued. Oh
don't get me wrong, we may fight again someday, but it will never be
the same. That's because Kirk MacLean will never be the same. That
is a promise. So Kirk, for once in your life take my advice. Don't
worry about Travis LaGrange. The only thing he is famous for is
playing dead. Make a mistake against me at Raw at War . . . and you
might not be playing at all. See you soon.

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Message: 8
Date: Wed, 26 Sep 2001 22:06:02 -0400
From: "John J. Kuczynski" <kuc...@yahoo.com>
Subject: Re: One Last Battle

[The scene opens on RAW Capital Champion Kirk Maclean as he turns off the TV
in his living room after watching the two-hour premiere of Enterprise and
(because he needed a good laugh before bed) the latest promo from RAW's
"Capitol" Champion, Jason Midnight. Midnight switches off the lamp and heads
off down the semi-darkened hall shaking his head.]

MACLEAN: Pride goeth before the fall, Jason.

[...]

MACLEAN: And it's a long way down.

[The lights go out and the image fades to black.]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
John J. Kuczynski
"Things are only impossible until they're not."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

[This message contained attachments]

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Message: 9
Date: Wed, 26 Sep 2001 18:07:12 EDT
From: Guerril...@aol.com
Subject: -[Stepping Stones.]-[RAW]

[We fade in looking forward at a long hallway. You take a quick left down
the
next hall, and your very next right. You now see two vending machines, and a
familiar face. The camera pans in...]

"Euphoria" Luke Lucent: How's it going? A lot better than Drake Zensation I
hope. The mentally challenged kid didn't stand a chance. It's just a small
stepping stone to triumph in RAW. My first victory, my first match. It can
only get better from here.

[Luke reaches into his pocket and then inserts change into the soda machine
and presses his selection, you hear a thud, and then Luke reaches down for
his drink. He places it at his side..]

"Euphoria" Luke Lucent: My real debut takes place monday. Four men, one
goal.
We're all gunnin' to get that big win and become recognized. Who's going to
make it happen? Who wants it more? Look at your pathetic selves. You kids
are
scared to even speak what's on your mind. I want this to be something
special
guys, I've already told you that.

We need to put on one hell of a show for RAW, let's get noticed. If you guys
are going to slack off, that's fine, but I will not lay down, and I will not
decrease the intensity of my pain game. It's a matter of days now before we
get this fourway going.

Capitol title shot, sounds good to me. How often does a newcomer like myself
prance into a promotion, take out a so called wrestling prodigy, and then
get
a #1 contender's match the very next day? Not very often. Capitol title eh?
No problem. But, _RONNY RAMIREZ_.. after I get this Capitol title, I
wouldn't
have any problem defending it in a unification match against your North
American title. Hell, I beat your retarded friend with ease, I believe you
can get beat with ease as well.

It's not a hard task, it's simple really. Ramirez, the challenge is laid out
on the table, you can take it or leave it. That is, if you still have your
title after Monday, if Frost doesn't rip you a new asshole.

[Luke pops open his drink and takes a few sips, he then sets it along his
side and continues talking...]

"Euphoria" Luke Lucent: I've yet to hear anything from my opponents, but I'm
sure I will in the coming days. American Patriot, I saw your win at the
house
show over some scrub, good, your going to need the practice.

Mangan, I saw your dumbass get a disqualification in a title match against
Creed. What's wrong with you? To stupid boy? To dumb to realize that you
were
that close to making it as a huge contender?

And MW, what the hell is wrong with you? Having a little karate match with
Priest when you could have been the North American champion? I haven't had
one intelligent opponent yet. But oh well, maybe I'll get something sooner
or
later. I know that Capitol title match won't be this easy. At least, I hope
it's not this easy.

[Luke finishes off the rest of his drink and crushes the can and toss's it
in
a nearby trash can.]

"Euphoria" Luke Lucent: Trash, that's I'll i've been getting in RAW so far.
Zensation, the kid didn't have a chance. Now you throw at me three of the
greatest scrubs in the promotion? What the hell is this? Is Luke Lucent a
joke to you fucks?

Within deed time, I'll prove to each and everyone of you that Luke Lucent is
no joke. If it was fame, or pauper..I'd choose Euphoria. The quest
continues..

[Fade to black..]

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Message: 10
Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 02:45:09 -0000
From: "Frank Byrns" <frank...@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mail Call

[Stately Simpkins Manor.]

The greatest wrestler in the history of the universe, "Dirty" Doug
Simpkins, is seated at the kitchen table, opening a largish box he
just received in the mail.

A strange upturning of the lips occurs -- this is what passes for a
smile in the Manor. Simpkins reaches in the box, pushing aside the
packing tissue, and pulls out the contents for all to see --

It's a referee's shirt. Black and white vertical stripes, XL. You
know the kind.

And as he looks at it, this time it's a full-blown smile.

[Fade.]

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Message: 11
Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 00:15:31 -0400
From: "milhouse" <milh...@execulink.com>
Subject: Let's Make A Deal

[The scene starts in the War room at the RAW Octagon. Seated around a
kitchen table in used lawn chairs is the President of RAW Nature Boy Larry
Spikowski, Director of Talent Eric Helmroy, and William Bennett's legal
Dream Team black legal wizard Johnny Cochrane and televisions ex-Fonz turned
lawyer Henry Winkler. The foursome sit and wait for the chief complainant
while he's in the washroom.]

[Helmroy] ....Jesus, what do you think he's doing in there?

[Spikowski] Probably trying to sabotage the toilet.

[Helmroy] He's been half an hour already.

[Spikowski] Probably wiring the explosives.

[Helmroy turn to Bennett's Dream Team]

[Helmroy] Just how long is your client intending on staying in the can?

[Cochrane] My client is entitled to take as much time as he deems necessary
to exfoliate his bowels, thank you very much. You'd think you'd be more
sympathetic. My client is all agitated and uptight thanks to your careless
dismissal of his services. No wonder he's taking...

[Cochrane checks his Rolex]

[Cochrane] ...Thirty-seven minutes to do his business. You've got the man
all bound up.

[The former Fonz leans forward]

[Winkler] In any case, gentlemen, I suggest we negotiate the use of another
washroom in case one of us has to go next.

[Cochrane addresses his partner]

[Cochrane] Shut-up, Henry! What are you talking about, fool?!

[Winkler] I was just thinking it's an awfully long drive to the airport.

[Cochrane] Like your shit don't stink, Henry. And don't tell me it doesn't.
I used to watch Happy Days, and that shit stank.

[Winkler] That really hurts, Johnny. That really hurts. How would you like
me to say you fooled no one when you defended OJ?

[Cochrane] That was a God damn set-up by racist police officers! If the
gloves don't fit....!

[The Nature Boy interrupts the conversation trying to steer it to something
more pleasant]

[Spikowski] Anyone watch the new Enterprise show?

[There is an uncomfortable silence. Finally Johnny Cochrane speaks up.]

[Cochrane] Yeah, I saw it. Damn good show. Damn good. That Captain Cutter's
a real badass. I loved it when he told that Vulcan he was restraining
himself. Retraining himself from knocking her on her ass!

[Henry Winkler leans over to Spikowski]

[Winkler] You know originally I was up for the lead.

[The Fonz's partner interrupts]

[Cochrane] How you gonna play a Vulcan woman, fool? Other than you're
growing titties. I told you before I can't be defending people and handing
out justice with you morphing into Pamela Anderson in front of my very eyes.

[Cochrane looks over at the Nature Boy]

[Cochrane] And a few push-ups wouldn't hurt you neither!

[Winkler] That's it, Johnny! I've had enough of you! You've been on my case
since we got off the plane! I'm a talented actor! A damn talented actor! You
know I almost had my own spin-off series after Happy Days?! It was gonna be
called "Fonzie and Friends"! Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Mister
I-defended-OJ-fifteen-minutes-of-fame!

[The black legal wonder gets out of his chair and throws off his jacket. He
places his Rolex on the table]

[Cochrane] Come on, Henry! I'll whoop yours, Richie's ChaChi's, and Mr. C's
lilly white asses all at once!

[The former Fonz remains seated.]

[Winkler] You're lucky I don't believe in violence, Johnny. Because when I
get mad, I get really really mad....

[Bennett walks into the room]

[Jugger] Am I missing something?

[Both Bennett's attorneys regain their composure. Johnny Cochrane takes his
seat. The Juggernaut looks at the empty used lawn chair at the table. He
sits down very carefully.]

[Cochrane] ...pussy.

[Winkler] What was that, Johnny?

[Cochrane] I said, let's get this disposition started.

[Cochrane addresses the RAW executives.]

[Cochrane] You gentlemen know how this works. We discuss the evidence and
try to come to an out of court settlement. If we can't come to an agreement,
we go to court.

Mr. Bennett, in your own words, will you please tell us what happened the
morning of Sept 12?

[Eric Helmroy interrupts]

[Helmroy] Look, Cochrane, I know the routine. I've seen Bennett do it a
dozen times. He claims he was assaulted, he claims mental cruelty, and he
claims he was sexually harassed. Then he cries like a baby when he tells his
side of the story which is 99% utter bullshit.

[Cochrane] I object to these insinuations that my client's solemn word is
anything but the God fearing truth.

[Helmroy] Save it for the peanut gallery, Johnny. If we were in court maybe
Bennett could fake one of his fainting routines to get on the side of the
jury. But we're not buying crazy today. We all know what happened when
Bennett was fired. You got us on wrongful dismissal and nothing more.

[Cochrane] Spikowski threatened my client with bodily harm!

[Helmroy] Your client out weighs Larry by two-hundred pounds. He can snap
Larry's spine like a twig.

[The Nature Boy interjects]

[Spikowski] Yeah well he insulted my hair! We can counter sue!

[Helmroy] Shut-up, Larry.

Let's skip the bullshit, Cochrane, and let's get down to talking money.

[Winkler leans over to his partner]

[Winkler] Gee, he really told you. Didn't he, Johnny?

[Cochrane] Shut-up, asshole.

[The Fonz takes a file out of his brief case.]

[Winkler] Fine. We'll drop the mental anguish. Wrongful dismissal only.

[The Juggernaut interrupts]

[Jugger] But Henry, I've been besmirched.

[The black legal wonder jumps to Bennett's side]

[Cochrane] Yeah! Listen up, fool! The man's been besmirched! We want mental
anguish! What the hell are you doing "Wrongful dissmisal only"? Stupid,
honky!

[The Fonz holds up his hand to quiet his team down]

[Helmroy] Give me a number, Henry.

[Winkler] We're prepared to drop this matter for a hundred and seventy
million dollars.

[Cochrane] Now that's more like it. You tell 'em, Henry! Our client has been
wronged!

[The Juggernaut doesn't look pleased at the enormous sum of money. Spikowski
gets up.]

[Helmroy] Where are you going?

[Spikowski] To get my cheque book.

[Helmroy] Sit down, you idiot! I not giving Bennett a hundred and seventy
million dollars! We don't have a hundred and seventy million dollars for
God's sake!

[Winkler confers with Cochrane. The two have a very quiet and heated
debate.]

[Winkler] Fine. We'll take everything you've got then.

[Helmroy] Here's my offer. We put fat boy back on the payroll. Same pay,
same benefits, no perks and he stays at home. As far as wrestling goes,
Bennett is through.

[Winkler and Cochrane both look at each other and do their commission in the
back of their heads. Both men nod in agreement. As Winkler is about to shake
Helmroy's hand, the Juggernaut interrupts]

[Jugger] No deal.

[The black legal wonder explodes]

[Cochrane] No deal?! What? Are you nuts? You get your big fat contract back
and all you have to do is sit back on your white bread ass and grow fatter
to earn it! Jesus, you're what's wrong with you?

[Cochrane turns to his partner]

[Cochrane] You're white, Henry! You talk some sense into him!

[Winkler] Really, William. This is a good deal.

[Jugger] I want my title shot. I want to be re-instated and I want my title
shot against, Travis LaGrange.

[Helmroy] Forget it. I'm not letting you near LaGrange. That kid is gold.

[Jugger] He's gold because I make him gold. How's LaGrange going to make any
money without me? How's he going to be a good guy without a bad guy?
LaGrange ain't shit without me and your know it, Helmroy. You may think he's
a big bright shining star, but you can't see a star shine without darkness.

[Spikowski] He's got a point, Eric. We don't have a main event for the Big
Card. If we're going to even come close to the Battlezone buy rate, we need
this match.

[Helmroy] Who's side are you on, Spikowski?

[Jugger] What's wrong, Eric? Your Golden Boy just a puppet champion?

[Eric Helmroy's face turns red. Every one is quiet while he comes to a
decision]

[Helmroy] Fine. You're re-instated. But on a couple of conditions. The first
is you don't attack LaGrange before the match. You attack him, you're gone.
This time for good.

[Jugger] What else?

[Helmroy] Oh, I've got a few things in mind. I'll discuss them with you
later.

[Jugger] Fine. Then I have one more condition.

[Helmroy] What?

[Jugger] The Big Card: Battle of the Pacific, I get LaGrange in a cage.

[Eric Helmroy extends his hand.]

[Helmroy] Deal.

[Suddenly, a large explosion is heard. A moment later a panicking accountant
soaked to the skin opens the War room door.]

[Accountant] My God, someone call a plumber! All the toilets have exploded!

[As Bennett giggles uncontrollably to himself, his used lawn chair gives out
and he collapses into the frame.]

[Fade-Out]

[This message contained attachments]

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Message: 12
Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 07:27:24 -0000
From: "Jake Kane" <empi...@ntlworld.com>
Subject: Wrestlebowl 3

As many of you may have seen on RSPWF, Wrestlebowl 3 is out. Now,
because WB3 was so long in the making, and because we move at such a
fast pace, things have obviously changed in RAW (McCray and Demola
gone, Lagrange dying and coming back as The Sexy Boy etc.), so for
RAW continuity, the WB3 match against SPW happened in late July.

Just so you know :)
If you don't have access to RSPWF...

http://groups.google.com/groups?q=rec.sport.pro-
wrestling.fantasy&hl=en&lr=&safe=off&site=groups

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Message: 13
Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 11:29:13 +0000
From: Jake Kane <empi...@ntlworld.com>
Subject: Last minute reminder

Last minute reminder...strat deadline is today.

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Message: 14
Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 16:36:32 -0000
From: sol...@msn.com
Subject: Surveying the scene...

(We see American Patriot in New York City, next to the site where the
World Trade Center once stood.)

American Patriot: Simply amazing. I can't believe this. And it
looks bad enough on TV. I can't believe why anyone would want to
destroy anything like that. These men that did this were truly sick
individuals, with their leader, Osama bin Laden, the sickest one of
all.

(Continues to walk, walking to the area where three firefighters have
hoisted the American Flag.)

AP: However, just as there is a sick individual looking to destroy
the United States, there is a sick individual here that wishes to
destroy me because of my allegience to the United States. Alan
Mangan, you are truly sick in the head. After some research, I see
that you are from England, yet you are wishing for Ireland to become
the world power and to have Ireland destroy the United States. Now
first off, as a country, we have no problem with either England or
Ireland. And secondly, both England and Ireland are on our side.
So, it's not so much that you want Ireland to take over, it's more
along the lines that YOU want to take over. And guess what? IT'S
NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! This weekend, you are going to get a taste of
just what's in store for you later on down the road. Just like bin
Laden is going to get his butt whupped by the USA, you are going to
get yours whupped by me.

(Pausing for a second)

AP: Now, does this mean that I don't care that the match is for a
Capital Title shot? Of course, I care. We all have our goals in
this match. And I ask the other two in this match one thing: We are
all looking to achieve victory in this match. However, we all have
one common enemy, and that is Mangan. We need to get rid of the
sickness from the ring before we can truly see who can get the title
shot. Once that happens, then may the best man win.

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Message: 17
Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 18:43:13 -0300 (ADT)
From: William Harrison <af...@chebucto.ns.ca>
Subject: The 'Terrors ride again

[Background: Pretty simple here, folks. Commentary from Tonnage and Louie
on their tag match coming, and recent events. Y'know, people back from the
dead, and stuff? :)]

(Fade in to a shot of a pool hall somewhere. It's a big place, with three
long rows of tables, including a few for snooker near the back wall. Each
table has a fluorescent light over it, allowing the players good visibility.
It's probably a good idea, too, since the room is quite dark otherwise. The
bar is directly to the right, a long oak table on growth hormones with a
sort
of greasy looking fellow tending it. He's got long hair, leather vest, lots
of tattoos, a real scummy biker looking type. The place has a few people in
it, guys and their buddies having a friendly game of eight ball for the most
part. One table near the front is being used by a couple of pretty seasoned
pros, from the look of how fast the table is being cleared. A few people
stand around that one, wagering on who's going to come out on top.

On that note, cue the Albany contingent.

Tonnage and his longtime friend, Little Louie, walk into the shot, just by
the bar. Each man wears a pair of jeans and a shirt, although Louie's in
black while the big man's outfit is dark blue. This contrasts well with his
mask, which is a rather odd thing to wear with jeans and a shirt, but hey,
he's Tonnage. The big man steps up to the bar, and the greasy guy looks
suitably impressed.)

[T]

I want a table near the back.

[Greaser]

Hey, aren't you-

[T]

Yes. Table?

[Greaser]

And aren't you-

[L]

Of course I am! What about the table?

[Greaser]

Oh, yeah, right. Here.

(He hands them a set of billiard balls, and two pieces of cue chalk.)

[Greaser]

You can use number twenty three. That's the one way down there in the
corner.

[T]

Wonderful. Oh, a bit of advise...

[Greaser]

Huh?

[T]

Most employers prefer their front desk personnel to *shower* before coming
to
work. Capiche?

(Before the greasy guy can say anything, the Beast and Louie grab the
equipment, and head for the far corner of the room. People immediately stop
what they're doing, and stare at these unusual visitors. One decidedly
unfriendly glance from Tonnage convinces them to go back to what they were
doing.)

[T]

Damn tourists.

[L]

Aren't we the ones from out of town?

[T]

That's what I mean, Lou. We should have gone home to play pool.

[L]

Pretty long flight for a few shots at the cueball, don't you think?

[T]

We can afford it, Lou. Better that than these mental midgets ogling us with
their jaws on the floor. It ruins my concentration.

[L]

With the amount of time you spend in front of an audience, big man, I think
you can manage somehow.

[T]

I suppose. One more sacrifice for our legions of fans...

[L]

So, you want to bre-

(He stops dead in his tracks, staring off to one side of the table, and
breaks out in a grin.)

[L]

Screw that billiards crap! Now *that's* a game!

(The big man takes a look... and his eyes come to rest on an air hockey
table.
Smiling wickedly, he sets the balls down at one end of the table, just
underneath it.)

[T]

You're toast, little man. Step up!

(With a cocky strut, Louie makes his way to the opposite end of the table,
and grabs the paddle. Tonnage picks up his as well, and fishes a handful of
quarters out of his pocket.)

[L]

Bring it on, pokey! You can't keep up with my slap shot. And speaking of
slap shots, you take it easy this time, okay? I can't stand having to
replace the puck every time.

[T]

Yeah, yeah, I won't punish you *too* badly.

[L]

I'll survive it. Just make sure the puck does!

(The big man deposits the quarters in the machine, and it whirs into life.
He gets first shot, as the puck tumbles out the slot at his end of the
table.
He pulls it out, drops it on the surface, and winds up...)

[T]

Prepare to bite the dust, silly short person!

[L]

Oh, bite *me* and shoot already!

(He does. His massive paw flings out, and the puck rockets across the
table,
slashing into Louie's goal before he has a chance to react.)

[T]

Ha har! Take *that*, oh shrimpy purveyor of false bravado!

[L]

Argh! Prepare to taste my vengeance, you son of a motherless goat!

[T]

Hey, my parents had at least three mothers!

(Louie whips the puck onto the table, and nails it toward Tonnage's goal.
The big man intercepts it, and sends it careening back at him, but this
time,
the little guy is ready, and blocks it. The puck goes back and forth a
couple of times, before Louie bounces a shot off the left wall and it just
slides by Tonnage's paddle, and into his net.)

[L]

Yo ho! How do you like *them* apples, Your Rotundness?

[T]

I prefer the term "pleasantly plump", thank you. Have at you!

(Another shot goes into Louie's net...

Ten minutes later, the score is tied at six apiece. Louie is being pummeled
from all sides by a barrage of Tonnage's shots, but manages to keep the puck
out of his goal.)

[T]

Give it up, shorty! There's nothing you can do!

[L]

Not even *this*?

(A sudden flick of the wrist by Louie sends the puck whistling off the
boards.
It bounces into Tonnage's paddle at just the right angle to put it into his
net, and Louie is victorious.)

[T]

Oh you little bugger!

[L]

Ha ha! No one can withstand the awesome air hockey mastery of Petit Louis!

[T]

Ooh, aren't *we* all dainty like! Come on, let's have a seat.

(The friends sit on a pair of high stools, set up at a small table in the
corner. The Beast sets the tray of balls in the middle of the table.)

[T]

So, shall we get on to business, then?

[L]

Hey, the guy with the camera's been following us around long enough. What
the hell!

[T]

Sounds like a plan to me.

Well, it seems the world has been shocked yet again. Yep, just when you
thought people in this business could get any more stupid or gullible, the
benchmark is set at a brand new low. Now, I believe I told you morons out
there that LaGrunt was still around. Your response? A bunch of whiny
claptrap about respecting that peon, and so forth and so on. Pathetic.

Christ, how obvious does something have to be before you twits will see it
coming? Apparently, you should stay out of traffice, 'cuz the headlights of
that oncoming bus won't convince you that you're on the verge of becoming
street pizza. Man, only *the* most blatantly telegraphed "swerve" in the
history of the sport, and you fell for it hook, line and sinker. I could
even leave out the rest of InBreed, since for all I know, they were in on
it, and *still* the idiocy stretches on into the distance.

Take everybody's punchline of choice, Neil-and-Bob MacDumbass. He quickly
became the Crying Scotsman, as he practically blubbered on camera over the
supposed transgression I'd committed. Well, you certainly got sent home
with
tears in your eyes, didn't you, dolt? First, Mr. Creighton handed you your
head, and then, you received the public humiliation of being shown up for a
complete rube. If it is a fact that you're the "only man who can lead RAW",
all the more reason for us to take over. I mean really, if you're the best
they can do, they'd better pack it in and get into breadmaking or something,
because the average lump of dough is infinitely more qualified for the job
than your sorry ass. Geez, Lou, this fart in a mitten makes you look
positively gigantic.

[L]

Gee, thanks.

[T]

You know what I mean. They say that size isn't everything, but in his case,
size isn't *anything*. Any smaller and he wouldn't exist at all.

That's neither here nor there, of course. The point is, you led the charge
of the Lunkhead Brigade, condemning me for being the only guy out there with
the stones to say what I really think, instead of what sounds good. Time
and
time again, I listen to wishy washy, fence sitting dullards hide behind the
veil of political correctness, doing anything they can to score points with
people to inept to find their own assholes without written directions.
Well,
now that you know I was right, as if there were any doubt, let me fill you
in
on something you should have realized before. I don't respect people who
don't deserve it, and LaGrime tops the list. In fact, if he'd actually done
the world that favour and croaked, I'd be the first one in line to spit on
his grave. The lineup behind me would stretch around five or six miles out
of the cemetary, or garbage dump, whichever was closer to the place LaGrease
happened to keel over at.

In any case, this is just another piece of evidence that RAW is in desperate
need of guidance. Just the kind of thing I and my compatriots excell at,
eh,
Lou?

[L]

Indubitably, big man.

On that note, let me be the first to welcome Thomas Creighton to the fold.
Our newest WAR! teammate may not have been a member of WAR! in the past, but
hey, nobody's perfect. What's more important is that he knows where the
real
talent lies, and has flipped off these so-called stars of RAW.

[T]

Damn straight, Lou. Mr. Creighton has seen that those peons are all show
and no go, while we are the true leaders of the industry, the kind of folks
who will make sure he gets the treatment he deserves. Unlike those ninnies
who turned their backs on him, we WAR!riors always protect our own. When
somebody says he's on our side, we're on his side until we see something to
convince us otherwise. You just take a look at my track record, and you'll
see that nobody ever got screwed over by me. My word means something,
unlike
the dirtbags Mr. Creighton thought were supporting him previously. Tommy,
welcome aboard. The ride will be rough, but the rewards will be worth it.

[L]

Can I just say that LaGrunt is an imbecile?

[T]

When *can't* you say that? The divothead still thinks I'm jealous of his
"success". Listen, pea brain, anybody can kiss some ass and brown nose
their
way up the ladder. There will *always* be someone who cares more about how
hard a chump like you will lick their boots, than about any ability you
might
have. If Helmroy is willing to make you his personal bitch in return for a
few bucks, that's his business, but it ain't success. Success is being able
to tell people like him to shove that horse puckey right where the sun don't
shine, and still have them beating down your door the next day. When you
can
cuss out one of those stuffed shirts, and ten minutes later they're begging
you for more, just to get you to sign a contract, *then* you've had some
success. I don't bother with the ragging out, of course, but the rejections
are pretty damn clear, and what happens? Another contract in the mail the
next day, this one worth twice what I refused the day before. *That* is big
time.

[L]

Why don't we forget the small potatoes, and get on to the actual match?

[T]

Excellent suggestion as always, my good man. I've heard you don't much care
for this little feat of booking?

[L]

I was hoping for something in the singles department, but I'll take what I
can get. Besides, the Twin Terrors can dust 'em off for another go, right?

[T]

Always a pleasure working with a pro like you, Lou.

So, O-Maggot, looks like you're about to be a two time loser. Not only to I
get to massage my knuckles with your forehead at The Big Card, the fans have
the distinct honour of watching the Twin Terrors tear you and Crappy Smurf a
new orifice. Who says good things don't come to those who wait, eh? Don't
see much benefit to you, of course, but then again, I don't see much of a
future for you, either, unless you count the time in physical therapy. The
long, hard road to the recovery of the use of your legs is something I'm
going to enjoy watching, actually. I hope you'll record every moment and
send me a copy. I'll pay the shipping charges, promise.

[L]

I guess that leaves me with the Smurf, then.

Akuma, you might as well get this through your skull right now, before you
have to learn it in the ring. Your pitiful attempts at impersonating a
martial artist aren't going to help you one damn bit against someone who
really knows what he's doing. In case it hasn't sunk in yet, that would be
me. If the T man here isn't too busy making Silly Putty out of your
partner,
he can certainly tag me in, and I'll happily tear a few of your muscles for
the enjoyment of the teeming throng in the stands. You'll be doing yourself
a huge favour if you just stay away, and let the professionals do the work.
I guarantee you, if you step in there with me, I'll introduce you to anguish
that'll make your garbage wrestling near misses seem like Sunday brunch at
the Sisters of Mercy convent. In fact, I just might insist that the big man
let you into the ring, so I can demonstrate to the viewing public just
what's
in store for the next guy in my path toward that new light heavyweight belt.

[T]

Lou, I think these victims-du-jour need to meet BOBB, don't you?

[L]

Ooh, ouch. BOBB? Are you sure? Do we need to?

[T]

No, but it'll be fun.

[L]

True. Well, I'm sure one or both of them can have a little discussion with
the BOBBster at some point.

Don't know what we're talking about, boys? No kidding. You're about to
enter a world where your best isn't even a distant second in a two horse
race
compared to what you're up against. Because, whether you're torn to shreds
by a meat grinder...

[T]

...or sliced cleanly into mounds of quivering flesh by a surgical laser...

[L]

...you're just as finished. The Twin Terrors are back, for one night only,
and for you, it's the longest night of your lives. Another game, good sir?

[T]

Don't mind if I do. Oh, what about pool?

[L]

Later.

(Suddenly, the bartender and a gang of his friends come over, apparently
looking for autographs.)

[Greaser]

See, I told you it was them! Mr. Bennett, can you make this out to Pete?

[T]

Bennett? You've got the wrong giant, dirtmonger.

[L]

Wait a second! If he's supposed to be Juggernaut...

(A gang of young girls, looking suspiciously teen-aged, start to scream in
the background.)

[Girls]

Larry!

[T]

Ouch.

[L]

Ick.

(Fade.)

--------------------------------------------------------------
William [Bill] Harrison, BSc af...@chebucto.ns.ca

Graduate of Dalhousie University in Halifax, NS

"And his opponent...he hails from Paranoid, WV, weighing in at 203 lbs.,
accompanied by his tag team partner, Nick O'Time, the most careful man in
the world...JUSTIN CASE!!!"

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Message: 18
Date: Fri, 28 Sep 2001 01:43:32 +0100
From: "Dave Brooks" <bowlinda...@hotmail.com>
Subject: Alan Mangan and Power O'One in a state of the game address...

[Alan Mangan and Power O'One are sat in a park somewhere on this rather
rundown planet of ours. They are privately musing what can be done if indeed
Alan could wrest a title shot and then the Capital Title. They are also
discussing what to do about the American Patriot. As we join our two heroes
of the green shamrock, Cameron Mann and the irrepressable Toxic Shock
approach to get a few words from the wonder duo...]

TS: Alan Mangan!!! Power O'One!!! A few minutes, gentlemen, please.....

PO: Mr. Shock, indeed, but if I sense inanity in your questioning, I will
not only end your questioning, I will end you! Clear?

TS: Y-yes, sir, it is. I'll do my job, don't worry....

AM: Well, get on wi' it, then....

TS: Power O'One, what is it you can have possibly said to a man like Alan
Mangan to make him turn against all that he knew to be right and just!!

PO: Well, Mister Shock, it would appear that you have a very perverted sense
of what is right and just do you not?

TS:....

PO: Well?! Answer me, man!!!!!

TS: No, sir, I d-don't believe I do, I am a genuine, honest, everyday
American that believes in wrestling, baseball and apple pie....

PO: And I suppose your dear mother puts the sugar on the pastry herself...

TS: As it happens she d...

PO: I DON'T CARE A DAMN ABOUT THAT YOU PATHETIC LITTLE RUNT!!!! You stand
there professing your perversion with pride. You say it as if the culture of
others is not good enough for your precious America don't you? Hush!

AM: Just as your wrestling promoters saw me as not good enough for their
pitiful little outfit.... You see, they wanted me down an' I was down. I
thought American fans were laughing with me, but as Mister O'One here
pointed out so succinctly, they were merely laughing at me.....

TS: I can't believe it.... What has happened to your sense of fun, Alan?
What has happened to you? You even speak differently....

PO: What did I say in warning to you, Mister Shock?!

TS: Erm, OK, I apologise....

[Tox turns around to someone behind the shot, presumably Cameron...]

TS: Guys, do we have that footage... from the Patriot? Great.... We'd like
to set a monitor here for you if we may....

[Power O'One motions Tox to get a move on...]

TS: OK, take a look.... That's what a true American thinks of you guys.....

[Power O'One and Alan Mangan watch in what can most reasonably be described
as mirthful disgust..]

AM: Unbelieveable.... How does he make this rubbish up? Who writes this for
him? The same idiot who scribbles the Presidential bumblings I shouldn't
wonder.....

TS: He describes you as a sickness, a sick mind that must be eliminated..
That is a...

PO: QUIET!!!!

TS: *jumps*.....

PO: He rambles on that I wish to take over.... What nonsense!! What kind of
a fool is this man? I wouldn't WANT to run this place... How can I eliminate
such perversity alone, or with Alan's brave and very much appreciated help?
No, Mister Shock, I am not a miracle worker. I cannot solve the problems of
the world, but rest assured that Alan Mangan can help me terminate a few the
old fashioned way....

TS: But Power....

PO: Power.... .Such an odd word.... In the hands of the maniacal it is such
a danger... Can you imagine the destruction America is about to wreak on the
world...

TS: Sir, really, I have to protest....

PO: AND I PROTEST AT BEING ASSOCIATED WITH THE FUTURE DEATH OF THOSE MEN YOU
HAVE BRAIN-WASHED TO FIGHT FOR YOU!!!! HOW DARE YOU?!!! HOW DARE YOU BLIGHT
THE YOUNG WITH YOUR VENGENCE!!! I WILL TAKE YOUR BLOOD FOR THEIRS!!! I CAN
RELEASE THEM INTO THE LIGHT THAT IS SLOWLY CREEPING INTO YOUR DARKNESS!!!!

AM: I will be free of such blight. I am now beyond your sick and perverse
influence. You will hate me for it. I care not. Those that are powerless to
effect something often fall into irrational hatred. It is a symptom of
weakness. One that America is only to able to show for the whole of creation
to see.

PO: You too, all of you, can be saved.... all you need to do is turn to
me... turn to the Power Of One, just like Alan Mangan did.... you now walk
the razor's edge between salvation and destruction.. It's decision time.....
Do what is right.... do what you must.....

[FTB]

[This message contained attachments]

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Message: 19
Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 22:40:48 -0400
From: "milhouse" <milh...@execulink.com>
Subject: Re: PLEASE IGNORE LAST MESSAGE

What strat? What happened?

See the advantage of being highly suggestible.

>In a move of pure brillance I just posted my damn strat for the match
>to the entire damn fed. I am so screwed. Please forget it ever
>happened.
>
>
>To Post a message, send it to: rawra...@eGroups.com
>
>To Unsubscribe, send a blank message to: rawrasslin-...@eGroups.com
>
>Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/
>
>
>

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Message: 20
Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 23:27:50 EDT
From: wwsha...@aol.com
Subject: Who would have guessed?

[Scene opens to a restaurant. Despair, Spikyjim and Aki are all sitting in a
booth. The plates have just been taken away and the bill is slow in coming.]

Spikyjim: I'll be damned, you of all people a veggie...... what the heck is
wrong with a bit of pulsating, red raw meat? Heck, made myself sound a
little fruity there.....

[Despair looks a little confused.... but Spikyjim smiles at him, letting him
know that he's joking. Despair smiles too]

Despair: Yeah, go figure.

Aki: Daddy said you were a retarded little bast........

Spikyjim*covering Aki's mouth*: What did I ever tell you about repeating
what
I say or do? You don't go around setting chairs on fire and......... look,
you're embarrassing Despair.

Aki: Sorry.....

Spikyjim: Damn it, Waitress bill over here. NOW!

Despair: In a hurry?

Spikyjim: Yeah. Photo shoot with that goddamn, stupid, feeble little belt.

Despair: You'll lose it soon enough. I guarantee.

Spikyjim: The only other time someone said that and I didn't break their
neck
was back in high school a few months before prom. All things considered,
thanks.... I think I might even give it to you, good buddy...... but then
I'd
be insulting you...... and you don't want that..... heck, I'm rambling.
WAITRESS! BILL, NOW!!!

Despair: Look, I'll cover it. You don't have to wait.

Spikyjim: Thanks, little guy. Hey, you're all right. Guess I was wrong
about you..... maybe you're the Mick Foley to my Terry Funk....... so long.
Gotta get to that shoot.

[Little Aki sighs]

Aki: Another one?

Spikyjim: They didn't like how they pictures turned out. Seems that lying
down with a sign that says "TAKE MY BELT!!!! BEAT ME!!!! WILL JOB FOR FOOD"
doesn't really work for the "powers that be".

Despair: Well, I'll take him home..... Not like I have anything else to do.

Spikyjim: Well...you did try and cripple me using my son as bait..... much
as
I admire your ingenuity, and hell, we're buddies now..... Keiko would
frickin' KILL ME if I let you do that.

Despair: Yeah..... and you set me on fire but you don't see me bringing it
up.

[Despair rubs his head with a hurt look on his face. Spiky looks at Aki,
then looks at Despair.]

Spikyjim: Oh..... what the hell. Aki.... behave for him just like you'd
behave for me. Actually, just behave.

[Spikyjim looks out the window and sees Keiko pulling up in the family
truck.
He leaves, high fiving his son, and nodding at Despair]

Despair: So what's this business about not doing or saying what your dad
does?

Aki: Daddy doesn't want me to do things like him and get all messed up.
He's
got a plate in his brain.

Despair: You mean wrestle?

Aki: Yeah

Despair: You want to learn how?

Aki: But Daddy said...

Despair: Look, we can make it our little secret. You can even surprise him
one
day with it.

[Aki looks pensive]

Aki: Sure Daddy won't get mad? I wouldn't want to upset him......

Despair: Oh I'm sure you won't have a thing to worry about Aki. In fact I'd
bet on it. Now how about it?

Aki: Promise you won't set me on fire..... or stick glass on your fists like
Daddy does........

Despair: Oh no, nothing like that. Nothing like that at all.

[The waitress comes over and finally give the bill to Despair. Bill is paid
for and Despair and Aki leave for the gym]

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Message: 21
Date: Fri, 28 Sep 2001 04:31:58 -0000
From: "Matt Filipek" <fli...@hotmail.com>
Subject: Storm on the horizon

(The place: hotel room in D.C. The room itself: RAW Superstar
Omega's. What is going on: Omega is on the phone, Tonnage and Little
Louie's little interview is playing in the background. The phone
conversation has Omega completely wrapped up, he doesn't even notice
the camera man.)

Omega: Listen, you have to come over. My mother thinks we're...

[...]

Omega: I know, but it's been a few weeks and security has tightened
up babe. You'll be safe.

[...]

Omega: (with a slight grin) Come on, stop making excuses, ya know you
missed me. I miss you.

[...]

Omega: Oh yeah, I hear the guys in the back. Tell them get back to
work or I'll fly over and kick their asses to straighten them out.

(Laughter can be heard from the phone and shouts of 'HI' on the other
end. The phone goes quiet again.)

Omega: So, are you coming or what? All I have to do is make a couple
of clicks on the internet and your tickets arrive and you will be in
my...

[...]

Omega: (his face drops from the grin he was wearing) What?
Someone...else... (in a growl) WHO?

[...]

Omega: How can I not be?

[..]

Omega: Why now? Some of the toughest matches of my life are coming
up, against real talent. So why now?

[....]

Omega: I told you once I got settled here again, I would send for ya,
now this?

(Omega clenches his fist, popping the knuckles.)

[...]

(A dial tone is heard. Omega slowly puts the receiver back in the
cradle. A couple of tears roll down his cheek. Still oblivious to the
camera man, Omega looks at the interview playing on the TV. He slowly
stands up and puts his hands on the only chair in his room. With arms
shaking, Omega lets loose a scream and smashes the tv with the chair.
Not wanting to be next, the camera man leaves quickly.

Apparently, Omega didn't see that coming from the phone call either.)

[FTB]

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Message: 22
Date: Fri, 28 Sep 2001 09:08:25 -0000
From: "Jake Kane" <empi...@ntlworld.com>
Subject: Match-writers

This is the list I have of people I believe are available for a bit
of the ol' match writing for this weekend. I'll be sending out the
matches today, so if I could have confirmation or denial of being
able to be on the writing staff for this card, that'd be luv-er-ly.

Frank, Earl, James D, Si, John K, Gene, Matt F, Dave

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Message: 23
Date: Fri, 28 Sep 2001 10:12:00 -0000
From: "Jake Kane" <empi...@ntlworld.com>
Subject: RAW House Show (28 September 2001)

RAW
House Show
Whittemore Center, Durham, NH
28 September 2001

RAW came to Durham, New Hampshire for a house show bringing the local
fans some great action from the Whittemore Center.

A ten man over-the-top battle royale featuring Despair, 'Euphoria'
Luke Lucent, Alan Mangan
Omega, Spikyjim, Stevie Ray Murdoch, 'Dirty' Doug Simpkins, Tonnage,
The Mock and 'Heart of Darkness' James Strange ended in victory for
SPIKYJIM when DESPAIR flung himself at TONNAGE, the other remaining
competitor, to save Spikyjim from elimination, and in the process,
Despair eliminated himself.

LITTLE LOUIE scored a pinfall on ARRON IRON after executing The
Lambaster.

'KODIAK' VIC CREED pinned the returing AMERICAN PATRIOT with his
Powerdriver.

'GELID' GARLAND FROST scored a pinfall victory over MARCUS WILSON
following a frostplex.

In a North American Title Defence, JUDAS PRIEST fell to an Iconic
Gesture from RONNY RAMIREZ for Ramirez to retain his championship.

THOMAS CREIGHTON & JASON MIDNIGHT of WAR battled KIRK MACLEAN
& 'FLYING SCOTSMAN' NEIL MCDOUGALL of RAW and lost by DQ when
Creighton resorted to hitting McDougall in the head with his toolbox
right in the center of the ring, right in front of the referee.
McDougall needed a few stitches afterwards.

'SEXY BOY' TRAVIS LAGRANGE made a defence of his RAW WORLD
CHAMPIONSHIP against AKUMA, and after an entertaining match, beat
Akuma via pinfall when he superkicked Akuma when Akuma leapt off the
top rope.

------------------------------
(C) RAW 2001

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Message: 24
Date: Fri, 28 Sep 2001 15:24:22 -0000
From: athu...@law.uiuc.edu
Subject: Why Dirty Doug needs to mind his business

Midnight: I know that smile. I know that smile that Simpkins had
when he got that ref shirt. That's the "I'm going to ruin
everything" smile. Right now Doug is plotting ways to insert his
ugly face into my life. So, just like Kirk MacLean, I encourage you
to take my advice . . . stay out the way. This is not your fight old
man. Your only in the match because RAW wants to keep you busy.
Call the match down the middle, for your sake. Because if you decide
that you want to start the Midnight v. Simpkins war again I will . . .
you know what, I don't even need to tell you what I will do. You
already know. Do the right thing Doug. Or you WILL regret it.

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Message: 25
Date: Fri, 28 Sep 2001 20:57:52 -0700
From: <empi...@ntlworld.com>
Subject: To the matchwriters

Many thanks to the match writers for their tasks ahead. Sorry I was so
brief. In a rush. Any questions, email at rawa...@yahoogroups.com
Please send completed matches to rawa...@yahoogroups.com
I'm away next week, so James Dean will be putting the card together, thus it
is essential it goes to rawa...@yahoogroups.com

BIG THANKS!
Jake
---------------

memoria recordationes numquam prorsus victae

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