PARADISE WRESTLING PROMOTIONS
Tuesday, May 23, 2000 (estimated)
[Backstage. We’re in some sort of open-area, like the ever popular garage perhaps, and at the moment we see no one. Voices are heard from just off-screen, and in a matter of seconds we see the shapely figure of PWP’s resident goddess, Shiloh Ragno, as she saunters into our picture. Actually, saunters probably isn’t a good word, because she’s walking with purposeful strides, as if she’s trying to get away from something – or someone.]
[Sure enough, hot on her tail are the duo of Marky Peters and Chad Cormier, collectively known as the BOD Squad. The former New England Wrestling Syndicate jobbers are apparently trying to impress the young reporter with their buff physiques, and it appears as though she wants nothing to do with them. Marky, at 5’7″ and 227 pounds, the bulkier of the duo, leaps around in front of Shiloh and blocks her path. She stops short, quickly spinning on her heels in an attempt to retreat back from whence she came.]
[Of course, she turns smack dab into Chad Cormier, the 6 foot, 183 pound studmuffin known as “The Chisel”. Chad is grimacing as he grabs his right wrist with his left hand and flexes his admittedly impressive bicep muscle. Shiloh looks unimpressed, but that doesn’t keep Chad from continuing his series of poses for her benefit. The poor girl is trapped and she knows it.]
Peters: Yo, girlfriend, check out the Chisel, yo. My boy is pumped.
[Shiloh does not answer. She merely looks at the still flexing Cormier and rolls her eyes.]
Peters: Look at those arms, yo. I bet you’d like to, like, feel that rock, right? Well damn, girl, all you gotta do is ask, eh. Right on. Give her a test, Chiz.
[Chad fires off another impressive flex, presenting his arm for Shiloh to inspect. Although she obviously could care less, she plays along in hopes they’ll let her go. She pats Chad’s bicep quickly.]
Ragno: [with no emotion whatsoever] Ooh. Impressive. Can I go now?
[Chad continues flexing. Marky strokes his chin thoughfully as he looks Shiloh up and down with approval.]
Peters: Mmm mmm. You are one hella-good looking chick, you know that? You know what would be rad? You and me and the Chisel in a little three-way acti–
* SLAP! *
[Shiloh’s open hand colliding with the side of Marky’s face stops him in mid-sentence. She shoots the pint-sized grappler a dirty look and storms off right. Marky simply rubs his stinging cheek and smiles. Chad keeps posing… this time for his own benefit.]
Peters: Dude, she’s like… a babe. And she’s frisky too. [pause] I am totally in love.
[As Marky stares dopily after Shiloh and Chad admires his rippling thigh mucles for the umpteenth time, a young backstage worker in a remote headset and carrying a clipboard strolls by.]
Techie Guy: Are you guys… [he consults his clipboard and then says with slight disbelief] …Rip and Chisel?
Peters: [still looking after Shiloh] That’s us, brah.
Techie Guy: You’re on.
[The Techie Guy walks off left. The Bodders remain pretty much the same.]
Peters: [vacantly] Thanks, dude.
[The duo stand unmoving for a few moments before the Techie Guy sticks his head back into the picture.]
Techie Guy: NOW!
[Cut to commercial.]
[Back from the break and the crunching guitar of Eddie Van Halen is heard blaring through the impressive sound system of the Ice Palace. It’s vintage Eddie, as the “Fair Warning”-era VH track, “Unchained”, scorches the arena. The crowd is actually rocking along with the music, obviously unaware of who it represents. It doesn’t help that no one has appeared yet either.]
SB: We’re apparently about to have a visit, although so far no one has come out.
SP: What kind of shoddy operation are we running? Who’s in charge back there? This kind of delay would never take place in a military presentation, I can guarantee you that.
AR: Aw hell, man, is he gonna be like this *all* the time?
SB: Fans, we’re still waiting the arrival of whoever this is suppo–
[Sammy cuts himself off as the forms of Marky Peters and Chad Cormier come bumbling through the curtain that leads onto the entrance ramp. Marky is dressed in his customary hot-pink bicycle shorts and a white cut-off tee with a Tampa Bay Devil Rays logo splashed across the front. He also sports a hot-pink doorag and a smile the size of the Florida panhandle. Chad is likewise dressed in his lime-green bike shorts and a silver Buccaneers tank top. Neither guy is wearing wrestling boots, as they were not scheduled to wrestle on this opening card. Instead they each wear opened-toed sandles on their feet.]
[Bounding down to the ring with seemingly endless energy, the spunky duo known as the BOD Squad take an inordinate amount of time getting there, as they stop to hang with the fans as much as possible. And surprisingly, the fans play along; reaching over to slap hands or simply touch the Bodders. Of course, this probably has more to do with getting their own smiling mugs on TV than it does with caring about the BOD Squad, but oh well. What these two boobs don’t know won’t hurt ’em.]
SB: Here they come! “Rip” and “Chisel”. One of the exciting young teams that will be a big part of our tag team division here in PWP!
AR: Weren’t these two, like… a JOKE up in New England?!
SP: I gotta go with Archie on this one. These two lack the discipline to be taken seriously.
SB: Regardless of all that, they are nonetheless here and should be given the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the time spent in the N.E.W.S. was just the experience they needed, and now they’re ready to break out.
AR: You *can’t* be serious.
[After much delay, the Bodders finally make their way into the ring where Marky grabs a mic and Chad begins his customary posedown extravaganza. Throughout the segment he does little more than flex and pose and basically admire himself.]
AR: Lord help us… one of them’s gonna talk.
Peters: Yo, yo, yo, Tampa… WAAAAAZZZUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP?!?!
[Was that… a POP?! For the BOD SQUAD?! What is this world coming to?]
Peters: Big shout out to all you dudes and dudettes. My name is Marky, but you can call me “Rip”. And this here’s my main man, “The Chisel”. And yo, we just want to say it feels GREAT to be here in the PWP!!
[“RAAAAAH!” Another pop? It must be for the mention of PWP.]
SB: Listen to that crowd, gentlemen.
AR: Buncha crack addicts, obviously.
Peters: So like, me and Chiz, we were just chillin’ in the back, yo, and we were checkin’ out some fine young thang that was fixin’ to get herself a piece of Rip… if ya know what I mean.
SB: I’m not sure I do.
SP: That boy’s dillusional.
Peters: And lemme tell ya, this honey was FINE! I was all like, layin’ my cool down on this mama, and it was getting’ good to go, man. But then I remembered, you know, that me and the Chisel… well, we needed to come out here and address all you fine mamas and papas.
AR: Mamas and Pappas? Who TALKS like that?!
Peters: Now, yo, check this. Seein’ as how me and Chiz, we’re new to this place…
AR: We’re ALL new, you jagoff!
Peters: …We thought, yo, we need to make a splash. Cause some major force tens and really shred this here tag division. So that’s what I’m here to do. Gonna Rip it up, BOD Squad style! That’s right, me and the Chisel, we’re out here to lay down a challenge to those two posers who call themselves Monkey Nirvana!
SB: I believe that’s “Guerilla Zen”.
AR: Oh, my God… we’ve hired MORONS!!
Peters: That’s right, yo. You see, me and my main boy Chad, we been doin’ our homework. We been watching how you two ka-rayzee dudes been dicin’ through the PWP with all your talk about communism and stuff, and dude… THAT TOFU WON’T FLY!!
SP: Communism?! WHAT?!
SB: Umm… I believe he meant anarchy, not communism, Stan.
SP: Like that’s any better.
AR: What difference does it make? This doofus doesn’t even realize this is our debut card. Hell, I’m surprised they even know where they are.
Peters: So Monkeys… me and the Chisel… we’re calling you out! That’s right, bro. Next week. Right here on… [he pauses, a confused look on his face]
AR: Oh for crying out loud.
[Archie stands up on his chair at the announcer’s booth.]
AR: IT’S CALLED VORTEX, YOU STUPID SURFER!!
[Marky turns and looks at Archie. A huge smile crosses his face.]
Peters: Thanks, brah! YOU RULE!!
SB: Wow, Archie. You’re so helpful.
AR: Can it, Sammo. This sucks enough as it is.
Peters: Right here on Voretx!!
[The crowd pops. Again, for the name of the show, not for the Bodders. But Marky doesn’t seem to care (or notice).]
MRP: Now this ain’t gonna be like a normal match. No way, Jose. We want to show you two dudes that there ain’t no room for communists in the PWP!
AR: THEY’RE ANARCHISTS, YOU STUPID… I give up.
Peters: So we propose a good old fashioned *American* game of capture the flag! We’ll take Old Glory, and yo, you can take that crazee hammer and stick thing, and we’ll hide ’em somewhere in the building, yo. First team to capture the other team’s flag… WINS!
AR: Of all the stupid–
SP: YES!! A fine strategic contest! Why, it’ll be just like that time I fought at…
SB: Gentlemen, hush.
Peters: So how about it, boys? Do you got the gonads? Or are me and the Chisel gonna have to hang ten all over your money asses!
[“RAAAAAH!” Another cheer. Nothing gets a Florida crowd whipped into a frenzy quicker than the clever use of a Rock catch phrase. Of course, I doubt Marky meant it rip off the Rock. Remember, he thinks that Guerilla Zen are Monkey Nirvana. He’s not well, you know.]
Peters: Think it over, dudes. In the meantime… I’m Rip… this here’s the Chisel… and together… WE’RE B.S.!!
[The crowd actually pops again for some unknown reason. Marky tosses the mic down and he and Chad make a long drawn-out exit back up the ramp.]
SB: A challenge has been laid down.
AR: Yeah. A STUPID challenge.