PARTY NATION VS KING CONGO

[Handsome Harley]

2 on 1 Tag Handicap Match
Party Nation w/The Shizz
vs
King Congo w/Slick Harrison

[bdc]

The cameras cut backstage as we see TOAST waiting to interview a familiar threesome.



TOAST: Ladies and gentlemen, I am here with the one and only four time PWA Undisputed champion…

Shizz: Five time…

TOAST: and Indy wrestling great…

Shizz: Five time…Five time…

TOAST: Max Knight…



Shizz grabs the microphone: Yeah, yeah! Also known as the SHIZZ. And it’s FIVE TIME…FIVE TIME PWA Undisputed Champion! The first, last and forevermore!!! I mean, how hard is this job really? All ya gotta do is google the Shizz or ogle his Wiki page to get this information! I mean, a caveman could do this better! Now, get outta here!

JACKPOT shoves TOAST out of sight as the Showstopper continues.

Shizz: Or better yet just go to my website…THAT’S SHOWSTOPPERSHIZZ.COM…and you can read my whole bio!! Damn, everybody should be headed there right now. I mean, if you don’t know who I am or what I’ve done…WHERE THE HELL YA BEEN?? Come on!! I beat nine men in one night to take the first ever PWA Undisputed Championship!! I RAN that place for a good three years and, then, I took on Hollywood!! You can get my latest movie THE THREE NINJAS SHIZZ BACK only on DVD on my website or Amazon.com!

ICECOLD grins while he messes around on his I-phone. He suddenly nudges Shizz and shows him the screen.

Shizz: See? SHOWSTOPPER is trending worldwide even as we speak! Next thing to take over Twitter is PartyNation! These two prodigies have took about all of the bad booking and horrible matches that they are gonna! They are the next big thing and we are out to prove it! And I have no idea why they’re booked in a handicap match against this bongo character! Either of my boys could take that overgrown monkey (no racism intended) any day of the week! So, just to show you people what this walking reject from Russos closet is all about; my boys won’t just beat him, they’ll decimate him!!!

Suddenly, JACKPOT looks confused as he looks at his phone: HIM? Dude, then who’s this big breasted black moose runnin’ around topless? I thought we were fighting her!?

The Shizz and ICECOLD looks over and cringes.

Shizz: DUDE? Is that AWESOME KONG? Damn, somebody cover that cleavage up cause the pasties aren’t doin’ the job!!



Finally after almost throwing up and ICECOLD mimicking the dry heaves behind them, the Shizz blurts out.

Shizz: Man, that is just too much. I’ve wrestled some chicks in my time both officially and unofficially, but I’ve got my standards! You guys got your work cut out for you…she’s a big’n…

JACKPOT looks stunned: WHA? This is who were fighting? Dude, no way! I don’t get physical with no fat chicks! It’s my rule of thumb!

Finally, ICECOLD steps in laughing: Your thumb isn’t what you have to worry about!! But seriously, guys, that’s King Congo! That’s a dude!



JACKPOT: EW!! I knew it! That chick is packin’ a wad!!

ICECOLD slaps JACKPOT across the chest as SHIZZ grabs the phone and turns it upside down trying to figure it out.

ICECOLD: That’s NOT a chick! Damn!! Grow up. That’s a big black man who’s bigger than both of us. You know like BIG DADDY V? We’re gonna have to work together on this one.

Shizz interrupts still puzzled: You’re sure that’s a dude?

ICECOLD: Honestly?

JACKPOT jumps in: Hey, ICE, you sure you’re ready for this. I mean, we did your dad pretty bad back at REVOLUTION. You sure you’re ok?

ICECOLD smiles a wicked grin as he looks at the camera: The Shizz asked me whether they called me ICECOLD for a reason. To quote our new manager, AW HELL YEAH! They call me that cause I’m cold blooded. My pops is a big boy. He’ll deal. Meanwhile, ICE and the JACKPOT gonna listen to the master here. We’re going to work together and do EVERYTHING he tells us to do.

JACKPOT looks shocked: EVERYTHING?

ICECOLD: EVERYTHING! Cause this man knows his business and, with him in our corner, we’re going to score our first win! And it won’t be our last! And ole tubby there will buy himself a one way ticket to Congo land when we get done with him! Then we’re coming after the Mexican Power Rangers!! Then, we go after the HEW TAG TEAM TITLES!!

The Shizz tears himself away from the phone picture: Aw, Hell yeah! You got that right! When the Party Nation gets done here, we’re going to have ALL the titles. Got that boys in the front office? I’m gonna concentrate on helping the next INDY greats, ICECOLD and JACKPOT, and, then, I’m coming after each and every one of you stooges in the HEW! Hopefully, by then, they will have made some money and bought some better names…

Max throws the microphone down hitting TOAST in the head and the Party Nation exits stage left.

Toast: OW....

[pete]

Edwin Solomon[/b] is not feeling very good. Sure, he knew about the attack from the masked man, and had agreed to it; but that was by no means a short fall, and, rigged ring or not, even a man his size felt the impact. Now, as he follows his manager, Slick Harrison[/b], out of the arena, he clutches his ribs and mutters irritably:

Edwin Solomon: Why do I let you talk me into this sorta thing?

By his side, his promoter does not even look up from the wad of notes he is counting, merely holding it out as he replies:

Slick Harrison: This is why, my dear boy. It keeps people en-TAH-tained. An' when people are en-TAH-tained, they watch the show, and we get paid. It really is that simple.

Edwin[/b], however, is not entirely convinced, and continues to grumble until his phone goes off in his pocket. As he picks it up and sees who is calling, his frown instantly disappears, magically replaced by a huge, beaming smile. Fumbling with his big hands over the small screen, the Texan quickly unlocks the device and presses it to his ear, greeting:

Edwin: Heeey, Champ! Did you see Daddy on TV?

The voice at the other end of the line belongs to Edwin[/b]'s four-year-old son, Andre[/b], who sounds a little worried as he replies:

Andre Solomon: Yeah...but Daddy, why was you wearin' a costume? An' how come you let that mean guy throw you offa that thang?

Ed[/b] hesitates a moment, torn. On the one hand, he knows that, at not yet five years of age, his son is far too young to have his illusions about the sport shattered; on the other, Andre[/b] needs immediate reassurance, and his father intends to give it to him. Eventually, he settles on a suitable way to spin it, and once again addresses his son:

Edwin: Yo Dre...ya know when ya play Spider-Man, or Ninja Turtles, an' there's gotta be a bad guy?

Dre[/b]'s reply comes solemnly:

Dre: Uh-huh. Spidey's bad guy is the Lizard, and for the Turtles, it's 'Kwang'!

"Still got that speech impediment, eh buddy?", Edwin[/b] thinks with a chuckle, as he continues to make his point:

Edwin: Well, that guy was just bein' a bad guy in this kinda game we was playin'. That's why Daddy was in costume. He didn't really hurt me none, 'K?

Dre[/b] sounds significantly more relieved as he retorts with a simple "'K".[/b] Heaving a sigh himself, the big Texan now asks:

Edwin: Is Momma 'round? Get Momma on the phone.

He hears his son say something off the phone, and after a few minutes, Tricia[/b]'s voice comes on the line:

Tricia Solomon: Hi.

Edwin: Hi. Didja see it?

Tricia, a little exasperated: Yeah I saw it. You mind tellin' me what the H-E-L-L that was? Why was you dressed as a cannibal or some S-H-I-T?

Edwin, pleadingly: That's mah gimmick, baby. An' it's ovah. I'm makin' good dough! Y'all got that check last month, right?

Tricia[/b], even more exasperated, ignores the question, instead lashing out at her ex-husband some more:

Tricia: 'Ovah'? 'Gimmick'? What the F-U-C-K, Edwin?! Ya know your son cried when he saw you fallin'. You made Dre cry. I hope you mighty proud.

Edwin, beginning to lose his patience: I talked to Dre. We chill. An' you should chill too. Slick knows what he's doin'.

Tricia, sarcastically: Who's Slick? Guy who just got killed out there?

Edwin: Yeah. 'Cept he ain't got killed. He's right here. Y'all can talk to him if y'all want...

Tricia[/b] ponders for a second, but eventually snaps:

Tricia: Naw, ya know what, Ed? Forget it. Ain't my problem no more no how. It's *your* life.

Edwin, his patience running ever shorter: Tha's right. MY life. An' you know who I'm doin' this for. Sure as hell ain't you!

His wife, however, is not backing down that easily:

Tricia: Yeah, well, you can forget 'bout that, too! Ain't no way I'm'ma let Andre run 'round with some sleazeball racist cracker, watchin' his Poppa get hurt!

This is finally too much for Edwin[/b], who roars "FINE!"[/b] before hanging up the call, his bad mood back in full force. Turning to Slick[/b], who has stopped counting money and is witnessing the argument, flabbergasted, the big Texan then sighs:

Edwin: Let's get outta here. Sooner I have a shower an' f'rget 'bout this shit day, the bettah...

The manager nods and, without another word, the two resume their walk back to Edwin[/b]'s truck.

[pete]

Monday, 10.02 AM[/b][/u]

Edwin Solomon: HE KNOWS!

Edwin Solomon[/b] bursts through the office door, looking as agitated as Slick Harrison[/b], his promoter and manager, has ever seen him. Slick[/b], who has just seen Nobody's pipe-bomb shoot promo, knows what this is about, and tries to calm his client down:

Slick Harrison: Yeah, he knows. So what?

Edwin[/b] slumps onto a bench, making it creak under his weight, and runs his hands through his bald head in desperation:

Edwin: Whaddya mean, 'so what'? Dude just told evahbody who I am! Game's ovah! Whaddya mean, 'so what'?

Harrison[/b]'s demeanour, however, remains remarkably calm as he retorts once again:

Slick: That's exactly what I mean. 'So what'. Ya think they don't know? Ya think they believe you're *really* from Africa? Naw, my dear boy. This thing has been open f'r years now. Ain't no such thing as rubes anymore. An' this fella here ain't gonna make a lick o' diference. That's the beauty of it, my dear boy. They *want* to believe ya. An' they do.

This speech has visibly gone some way towards calming down the big Texan; however, Edwin[/b]'s concerns are not entirely gone, as he points out:

Edwin: But what about kayfabe? What about TV, Slick? How do we get 'round this?

Still the manager does not lose his cool, smiling cryptically as he simply says:

Slick: Trust me, my dear boy. I've come up with the perfect cover story. Just follow mah lead, an' it'll be all right.

Edwin[/b] still looks a bit wary, but Harrison[/b] gives him no time to think, striding towards the door as he orders:

Slick: In fact, put on your body paint, my dear boy. We're gonna go out an' cut that promo right now.

(To find out what Slick and Congo have to say, tune in to the next edition of HEW Shockwave!)[/b]

[bdc]

Shortly after their first ever interview in the HEW, Max Knight, Mickey Shamrock and JJ White, Jr are seen entering a rather large locker room decked out with the finest furnishings and conveniences that money can buy. JACKPOT runs and launches himself; landing on the nice cushy couch.

JACKPOT: Oooooo, YES! BABY!! Now, THIS is what I'm talking about!!

White ignores his partner but continues to watch his iPad intently. As he finds a seat in a nice easy chair, Max marches over and plops in a nice office chair behind an expensive looking desk. Throwing his patented sunglasses across it, he rakes his other hand across his face.

ICECOLD blurts without ever looking up: Have you seen this guy fight? He's a freakin' beast!!

JACKPOT has pulled his pink bandana over his face as he answers: Don't you mean SHE'S a beast?

ICECOLD looks up, exasperated: Oh, GOOD GREIF!!! Would you stop it!? The cameras aren't rolling anymore Mickey!! Quit the posturing!

JACKPOT pulls the bandana down: Who's posturing? Whatever the hell that means...THAT was one scary chick!

ICECOLD slaps his forehead: Oh, Good God!! For the last time, our opponent is KING CONGO! And he's freakin' 6 ft. 3 inches and 310 pounds of freight train!

JACKPOT: Isn't he from Africa or something? I mean, he doesn't even understand English does he? I'll just pull a lighter out like that Gilligan's Island episode and lull him into amazement. Then, you can bash him in the head from behind...

White is suddenly on his feet.

ICECOLD: HE'S NOT FROM AFRICA, YOU DOLT!!! He's from Houston!! DAMN! You are like the last living MARK in the known world!!

JACKPOT: Mark? Names Mickey...

ICECOLD: Oh, nevermind...

White goes back to watching the footage of his opponent while Shamrock begins to flip through the channels on the big screen. After finding the Playboy channel, he sits up and takes notice. After a moment of brooding behind the desk, Max Knight gets up, grabs the remote and shuts the TV off.

JACKPOT: HEY!! She hadn't got her shirt off yet!!

THE Shizz steps in between the two of them as ICECOLD looks up a bit puzzled.

THE SHIZZ: There's gonna be plenty of time for that later and in person. We need to talk.

Both JACKPOT and ICECOLD give Max their full attention.

THE SHIZZ: THIS (he waves his hand back and forth between the two) is the problem you have had since the beginning. You're friends, but you such complete opposites that you have a hard time keeping on the same page. Mickey? You're not taking this seriously enough...

ICECOLD: Damn straight...

THE SHIZZ looks at him and shakes his head: AND, ICE? You take it TOO serious. DAMN, there's got to be some middle ground.

JACKPOT: Hey, but you were clownin' it up for the camera earlier too?

THE SHIZZ: Yeah, Mick, the camera was on. JJ's right. Don't waste your time talking smack about the opponent while the camera's off. It's just a waste of resources.

JACKPOT: You mean, you didn't think CONGO was a chick?

THE SHIZZ: NO, MICKEY, I DIDN'T! Damn. See? You need to wake up and get serious about this. Like me. The Shizz will talk down his opponent in the ring, number one, because there's nobody better and, number two, because it gets into my opponents head. ICE has been cluing me in to some of chubby's favorite personal problems. Because ICE takes this seriously. He studies his opponent. He know his moves. He knows his weaknesses.

ICECOLD sits up with this pompous grin on his face: Yeah, SEE?

THE SHIZZ turns to White: And you, JJ? You get so deep into your opponents info that you loose the ability to hang loose and have a little fun with it. You may know everything about your opponent, but as long as your so DAMN serious about it, you can't get into your opponent's head! That deal out there with TOAST? Congo and his keeper will react one of two ways. A- they will get arrogant and think that we are underestimating them or B- they will get angry and loose their cool. Either way, it works for us.

JACKPOT grins: Yeah...I see

THE SHIZZ goes on: You two are going to have to meet in the middle off camera. But I suggest you keep this 'opposites havin' issues' thing goin' on screen. Works to our advantage. You can even ham it up in the ring. Have a few arguments. Shoving matches...the sort. It's called KAYFABE...

JACKPOT looks all worried: HEY, I'm not doin' no BILLY & CHUCK stuff to make it in wrestling!!

ICECOLD rolls his eyes: NOT GAY, you idiot!!

JACKPOT: OH! Sorry...

THE SHIZZ goes back to the desk and plops down behind it.

THE SHIZZ: NOW, JJ, could you bring me up to speed on our good friend Edwin Solomon? I have a feeling we're going to be getting to know each other REAL GOOD in the weeks to come...

MORE TO COME