LA Hosts Underground Wrestling (RP #8) (CD Inside)

[Torture]

- Torture wearing a black baseball hat low and just above the brow, as if to keep him from getting noticed. He bought tickets to a Thursday Night Wrestling Show from the LA Underground Wrestling Alliance. Torture is sitting in the bleachers at the very top, all alone. Underneath his black hat, are his thing custom made, CWI sunglasses. His shirt? A CoolWear Inc short-sleeve polo, with blue and green stripes across the front, from left to the right. Black dickies shorts, with blue and green stripes, with light green shoe laces.

- There is minimal performance going on inside the ring. Actually, there is no one even in the building except for the maintence workers, oh, and the ring staff. It's about two hours before the event, however, the LAUWA usually keeps it's doors open, for a fan insight on what actually goes on. Good idea to keep interest and support in the wrestling community.

- The One and Only, as we know him, takes his thin sunglasses off and puts them near his side.

Torture: You have proven to me, and the rest of this damn company how immature you really are. Farting, burping, telling me you don't give a shit? What the hell Logan, I thought you ate, breathed and shit this place out of your own colon? You just said you don't! So, what is the truth, Logan? Do you care for this place, or no?

You told me earlier in the week, you cared for nothing but Wrestling Championship Federation, now you tell me you don't care for it at all. Not me, not the World Title, not anything to do with Wrestling Championship Federation. The fact remains, Logan, what is the real truth? You've done nothing but hide it all, since you've gotten here.

Are you upset that I use my TV time, not to immaturely make noises from my body, but to prove to everyone that wants to listen, that you are indeed, not a good World Champion. Hell, you're not even a good wrestler! You're over thirty years old, Logan, grow the hell up. You're no better than Barbed Wire Freak, or Reckless Jack.

A cameraman follows me? Logan, you have all the same chances I have to use the TV time, and because I use it to my advantage that upsets you? This is my fault? You embarrass yourself, not only that, but you embarrass this entire Company.

Won the World Title in 2005? Didn't sleep your way to the top? Logan. Apparently, you don't understand what i'm saying, and it's because you don't have a brain bigger than a goldfish to comprehend it all. You sleep your way to the top. That's why you're still here, thats why you've been here this entire time. You could leave, honestly, and you wouldn't be missed. You know that, and I know that. But for you to leave, and go somewhere else, will be the biggest failing of a wrestling 'superstar' in the history of all mankind. I said you can't hack it anywhere else, because you can't. Only reason you hack it here, is because you have the right strings pulled, the right connections, and the right contacts. That is all. You can't wrestle to save your life, and you know that.

Want me to compare you? Logan, you are this companys George W. Bush. You really are. You flip flop just like he does. You begin to say something smart, but then end on a sour note of you either burping, or eating ice cream. You both are in a postition because of who you know, not because of what you can do to better the situations around you, and neither of you know what anyone else is talking about, because you don't understand simple logic. Thats a real comparison.

Oh, and me using my Television Time of making lunch, or eating lunch? Thats a sublimable message to you and your boys Logan. Meaning, you guys use your TV time to do nothing but rant and rave about nothing to do with WCF, while I have a sublimable shot at you, WHILE talking about Wrestling Championship Federation. It's plain and simple logic, that for some reason Logan, you can't ever comprehend. It's probably from the lack of air to your brain, from all of the ice cream, and-slash-or candy.

The real problem I see with you, Logan, is that you're not changing with time. I remember my first day in Wrestling Championship Federation. You appeared on the big screen in the middle of the arena, on a live remote from the bathroom. You were on the toilet, and you were wiping your ass. Why? I don't know, but for some reason, you are obsessed with your body. You told me I wasn't worth the toilet paper you were using for your own ass. Fine and dandy. Now? Almost three years later, you're still saying the same exact thing. Howcome everyone else evolves with time, Logan, and you're still using the same lines you used over seven years ago?. Thats the real question at hand, Logan. The real answer? It's because you're not as good as you once were. I didn't think you were anything special, and I don't think you're anything special now.

Starting from this day untill I rest six feet under, Logan, I'm making a pact to myself. If you ever beat me, and surprise this entire world, and Wrestling Championship Federation, I will officially retire from anything and everything Wrestling. There is no way you can beat me, Logan, there is no way you will beat me, and if you do, mark my words, I will go to the papers. I will go to the media. I will prove to everyone that you are a scam. A mock of this entire company. With that being said.. I think the public is getting here. It's time to watch some laid-back wrestling.

- Torture slips on his thin sunglasses. We pan out to see about four hundred people coming in through the glass doors. Torture just smiles and looks on as people begin to take their seats for two hours of exciting, underground, pure as hell Wrestling. We fade out.

[Corey Black]

We open back up to a sold out, and when I say sold out, I mean like four hundred fans packed into a barn type building. Glass doors at the front allow people to flow into the smoldering hot "arena". No air conditioning to cool the mass of people causes everyone to sweat. The WCF camera pans up to Torture, still sitting at the top of the bleachers, watching everyone scream at the ring. Finally, a man in a suit comes down to the ring to applause. The cameras turn towards the ring.

Man: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to LAUWA! Tonight, we have a special attraction match as 3D Johnny faces off with The Little Bastard in a Step-Ladder Match! Also on the card, the LAUWA Cruiserweight Championship will be contested as Nick Woo defends against Robert "The Poser" Moser! The Women's Championship will be on the line as champion Hannah the Alpaca Lover goes one on one with K.. irsten the Penis Lover! It's "When Babies Collide" as Steph Lerch's Baby tries to wipe the ring with A-Buick's Baby in a Binkie on a Pole Match! And coming up next, Wrestling Championship Federation's representitve Creeping Death, will get all interpromotional with LAUWA's Jesus (Hey, Zues) "El Savior" Christo! If Creeping Death can win this match, he'll have five minutes alone in the ring with Jesus' manager, The Mexican! For no reason whatsoever! And this match ... is on ... now!

"Du Hast" by Rammstein blares over the half crappy PA system, as everyone boos. From a door comes Jesus "El Savior" Christo. He looks like the typical "Jesus Christ" persona, complete with white robe and long hair. Short and skinny guy. The notable differences, are, well, he's a hispanic man, and instead of light and hope, he gives to the people tacos and burritos. Behind him is The Mexican, again, a hispanic guy. Giant, giant afro, though. Fucked up teeth too. Ugly sumbitch. Looks like he's been knocked out once before in his lifetime. And to trial for drugs. Just looks like it though. Looks like it just enough to make you believe it.

Regardless, the two mexicans walk down to the ring, and enter it. Jesus lifts his hands to the sky and tilts his head back, and instead of a ray of light, a light in the shape of the Taco Bell logo hits the ring as The Mexican praises and bows at Jesus' feet. A simply amazing sight, and even more amazing is the crowd booing the living hell out of these guys. Jesus takes a taco out of his robe and takes a big bite out of it, much to the disgust of everyone in attendance. The Mexican continues bowing as the lights in the barn place go out.

Over the loudspeaker, the opening happy riffs of "Battery" by Metallica play. The crowd goes along with the sounds. "Doo-da-doo dooing" along with it. When it kicks up a minute later, the entire crowd begins aggressively headbanging in unison and throwing the horns in the air at Creeping Death, who has just come out from the back. At his side is Jodia, the WCF interviewer CD got a date with a few weeks ago. She is carrying a chair. The crowd is popping like mad as they headbang. CD and Jodia reach the ring, and Creeping Death slides right in, standing up to Jesus. The Mexican quickly exits the ring as this match is under way.

However, Jesus magically makes a microphone appear from under his robe. The crowd rolls their eyes, all at once.

Jesus Christo: Hola, Senor Death! Me llamo es Jesus ... El Savior ... Chriiiisto!

A random crowd member lets out a "ha-HA!". Jesus Christo exits the ring, and goes over to a table. This table has a big clear bowl of water on it.

Jesus Chriso: Obersvo! El Savior willo turno deees aqua a NO AQUA!

Jesus puts a cloth over the bowl. Suddenly without warning, the lights go out, and a big splash is heard. Soon after, the lights come back on, and Jesus Christo is standing over the bowl. He pulls the cloth off to reveal a vat of taco sauce in a green bowl.

Jesus Christo: TA-DA! ES MIRACALE!

Nobody is impressed. Nobody. Jesus gets in the ring and right up to Creeping Death's face. And then ... he does ... the finger pulling off trick. Creeping Death just shakes his head. Jesus puts his fist up, and waves his hand between his fist and CD's face, and magically a miracale happens! He has a finger up! He waves his hand again, and once again, another finger appears! Jesus puts the mic to his mouth.

Jesus Christo: Tu, Creeping Death, es muy tonto! OH DIOS MIIIIOOOOOO!

Right then, CD had lunged his foot at Jesus' skull, connecting with a superkick, causing the Joey Styles impression and knocking the man down. Along with him fell the microphone. It didn't turn to taco sauce. Creeping Death begins taco saucing Jesus' face with massive MMA elbow strikes. Jesus is next to done already. Creeping Death doesn't care though, he calls for the chair from Jodia. He picks up the not taco sauce microphone and sits in the chair.

Creeping Death: You know, I came here looking for a challenge and to kill someone. Now it just looks like I get to kill two people with no challenge. Jesus, you remind me of my opponent at WCF's Ultimate Showdown. You're all talk and hype. But the talk and hype is the most random crap anyone has ever seen. Who goes on wrestling television to go to a confessional? Whatever man. When push comes to shove, the pure skill will outweigh the random bullshit.

CD, furiously slams the microphone in Jesus' head as he was sitting up. Blood is gushing from his nose onto his white robe. CD stands up and places the chair on Jesus' face. The Mexican gets up on the apron, but CD scares him off. Creeping Death then hops to the middle rope, jumps off in a 180 legdrop to the chair! CD pins ... and it's so acidemic it's not even funny. 1. 2. 3.

The bell rings, and security comes out to make The Mexican get in the ring. CD stands there, looking at this goofy fucker. Stupid haid. Stupid face. Stupid mexi-tan. Just plain stupid. The Mexican grabs the microphone.

The Mexican: Dude, what the-

Blam. BPP. Border Patrol Punch. Lights out, doggie. With four minutes and fifty one seconds left, even. CD just leaves the ring and heads to the back with Jodia, obviously upset with the outing.

[Torture]

- Time passes by as we noticed nearly over four hundred people are now just over three hundred. Still though, they all cheer their heads off as the face gets the win over the heel in the final match. The announcer comes back over the loud speaker.

Announcer: Thank you guys for coming tonight! Drive safe and be responsible!

- Everyone is getting up to herd over to the two glass doors. Torture gets up slowly and follows everyone down the stairs on the metal bleachers. Slowly walking down the steps. A kid notices who is standing next to him. The kid just smiles, but is too stunned to say anything. The kid looks to his dad, who his holding his hand. The kid looks back for Torture. He's not there. Torture is now cutting through people and he gets to a security guard, stopping people from trying to get over the guard rail. Torture slides his sunglasses to the tip of his nose. The guard looks surprised, and lets Torture jump over. Torture hand shakes the announcer, obviously knowing him. He walks through the 'ramp way' and behind the curtain.

Torture: Jeff!

- A man wearing a suit turns around, tossing the tons of papers he had in his hands to the table near him, and stopping all conversation he had with a few of the staff members who worked there.

Jeff: Torture! My man!

- Torture and Jeff handshake, and do the half-hug. Very typical if you're a friend of Torture.

Jeff: I didn't think you were coming tonight.

Torture: You know me, I have a lot on my plate. I did make it though, and I must say, it's a nice company you got here. Sure is fun.

Jeff: Thanks, a lot of money used goes into this place. I'm just glad we get the support from the fans.

Torture: They were pretty loud the entire night. Need to upgrade the building though. I'm an asshole.

Jeff: Thats all in the works, brotha. Hey, tell me about this huge Pay Per View, and when the fuck were you going to tell me about your World Championship.. huh buddy!?

- With that being said, Jeff hits Torture in the arm in a friendly way. Torture just smiles.

Torture: Had the belt for a while now. It's great, sometimes.. I think.. this is the life for me, ya'know. As for the Pay Per View.. It's going to be good. Logan taking on me. I think it's in the bag though, Jeff, I really do.

Jeff: You cocky son of a gun!

Torture: Well. I'm usually right. He doesn't train, doesn't talk with his mouth full, and most of the time, No one really listens to him. I do, but I don't exactly hear anything thats worth the time I waste on him. He's passed his prime, Jeff. What is a Logan in this Federation now-a-days? A nobody. A wrestler that can't act, can't sing, can't wrestle now, can't hardly even talk. I don't think he has much going on in his future. Maybe a huge retirement.

Jeff: He could always work here! Always looking for wrestlers! And Staff.. is he good at building rings?

Torture: Hah! Maybe. I'm sure he's had to put some together before. Either way, I'm walking in on Sunday with the Belt, and walking out on Sunday with the belt. You know how I roll, fool!

Jeff: Yes I do! Heh*. Yes I do!

Torture: Hey there he is! Jeff, did you get the change to meet Creeping Death yet?

Jeff: I'm all over this place, I hardly get to meet any of the new guys or special appearence guys. *Jeff extends a hand.* I'm Jeff Parker..