Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Vinny]

The screen is black, the sound of a heartbeat crawling out the darkness and growing louder and increasing in pace until it's almost deafening. The repeated beeping of an EKG machine joins the heartbeat, the rhythm increasing as the heart pumps at fatal speeds. FROM OUT OF GODDAMNED NOWHERE, a guitar begins to squeal violently as the letters "F T U W" grow from a single white dot in the center of THE BLACKNESS. AS THE GUITAR REACHES ITS BREAKING POINT, THE LETTERS VIBRATE RETARDEDLY UNTIL THEY EXPLODE. The song is "Coronary Coitus" by Viscerape. The lead singer, Leitch, belts out a MONSTROUS GROAN in tune to footage of ANT KING SCREAMING BLOOD as Corey Nguyen turns his TORSO into a BLACK HOLE.

#FUNGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!#

Handsomus R. Awesome and Perfect Theldorrin clash FIST to GUITAR high above a smoldering ring. Sella Phayne's SKULL folds around a STEEL POLE swung by Super Queerbasher. Jack Masteron SPEWS from the top of Bin Destruction's head like a GEYSER and the two begin FENCING with hatchets and boxcutters.

#GUOOOOOBEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!#

Rakkyu Saketumi FLIES TOWARD Theldorrin XIV with a SMOKING HOLE in his CRANIUM. Guan Fei's own spear is driven DEEP into his ORBITAL CAVITY. Jack Masterson's arm of Abaddon tears out Handsomus' throat. Lunar Plexus BURSTS out of the ground and MILITARY PRESSES a chariot and its horses. Ant King SCREAMS and vomits up a SWARM OF HORNETS. Fancy Lala rolls around on the floor, shitting his pants, before the footage switches over to Kuroda plucking out Jonesie's eyeball with his toes.

#I'MGONNAFUCKYOUI'MGONNAFUCKYOUI'MGONNAFUCKYOU!#

Steve Austin Stunners A FUCKING WAVE OF ACID SOMEHOW! Saketumi and Jack Daniels HEADBUTT EACH OTHER OVER AND OVER, CAUSING THE GROUND AT THEIR FEET TO CRACK! Theldorrin XIV hovers above FUCK MOUNTAIN, wielding a massive MOLTEN BOULDER.

#I'MGONNAFUCKYOUI'MGONNAFUCKYOUI'MGONNAFUCKYOU!#

Moloch Arschloch bites off Saito's fingers. Bin Destruction CRASHES DOWN FROM OUTER SPACE and collides into Puff Ryder's chest. The ILLUSIONIST DROPS THE GODDAMNED MOON ON LUNAR PLEXUS' SHOULDERS.

#I can't resist it! Beatin' your bones with mah dick
I can't deny it! Fuck your guts so I can drink the sick (FUUUUCK)#

Rakkyu Saketumi stands unconscious, dead, in his friends' arms, gripping the World Title belt tightly. A minigun BURSTS from ANT KING'S FUCKING ASS and STARTS FIRING ROUND AFTER ROUND as he feeds ammo down his goddamned throat.

#BALLS DEEP IN THE DEAD I DON'T WANNA PART
TAKE MY HAND AS I LOVE YOUR HEART (FUUUUUCK)#

Charles Bronson emerges from a hardware store with chainsaws replacing his arms and legs. Kanzaki Kenjiro punches Dwayne Guan mid-Jade Spear, causing his body to turn inside-out and explode. Harry Underwood BURSTS out of a GIANT, HANGING CORPSE wrapped into PUTRID INTESTINES.

#IT'S COMING! DISMEMBER WITH MY MEMBER SO I CAN DEVOUR YOUR DEATH#
#IT'S COMING! FUCK YOUR LUNGS AS YOU TAKE YOUR LAST BREATH#

McHarris CLOTHESLINES THROUGH A FUCKING CAR. GUAN FEI AND THELDORRIN XIV FALL WHILE HUNDREDS OF FEET ABOVE GROUND, TRADING FISTS. HANDSOMUS R. AWESOME CRASHES A COMET INTO MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, BROUGHT BACK FROM THE DEAD. DANIELS, KENJIRO, HANDSOMUS, AND GUAN FEI ROCK THE FUCK OUT AND ERADICATE THELDORRIN OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH! Robert McCoy SHEDS a few tear before he EXPLODES, DESTROYING A GODDAMNED STATE.

#COR-O-NARY COITUS (JIZZ IN YOUR BLOOD)#
COR-O-NARY COITUS (SWALLOW MY MAN MUD)#

The music reaches it CRESCENDO as FUCK MOUNTAIN CRASHES INTO THE PACIFIC OCEAN, DESTROYING SOUTHEAST ASIA AND KILLING MILLIONS! The FUCKING FTUW logo BURSTS THROUGH A BRICK WALL, BLOOD and BONES and ABORTED FETUSES spurting from the hole for some reason. The SCREEN FADES TO FUCKING BLACK.

FTUW Entertainment 2010. All Rights Reserved.

[Vinny]

July 22nd, 2010.

A monsoon of acid rain continues to squeeze every ounce of life out of the aborted wasteland known as Buttfuck Bayou. Putrid green rapids wash over former Lousianan homes, their deteriorating rooftops poking out from the burning river. With a flash of lightning, two black-cloaked figures hop from roof top to roof top with great speed. Perching on a sinking cathedral, one of the figures looks out into the distance.

"There it is ..." he speaks.

In the distance one can't help but the notice the garish neon glow dominating the horizon. When fireworks aren't littering the sky, a shape can be made out. Racing along the river is a monstrous river boat casino, drenched with years upon years of collected Mardi Gras decorations. It is the Queerbasher Memorial River Boat Casino, the sight of the FTUW's next Pay-Per-View.

"It's almost there," says Darren Drozdov as he pulls down the hood on his black, infinity symbol-adorned cloak. "The boss wants us to make quite a splash. You sure you're ready for this, kid?"

The figure beside him is motionless, his cloaked head hanging down. Droz curls his lip in disgust and grabs his partner by his throat in response to his silence.

"Don't think I'll go easy on you just since you're new, asshole," Droz spits, "It was Theldorrin's idea teaming us up, not mine."

In an instant, his partner's arm snaps back. Droz raises his hands to defend himself but the punch merely flies over his shoulder. Droz snaps his head around to see that his partner has just delivered a VICIOUS RIGHT STRAIGHT to a TWENTY FOOT TALL ALLIGATOR with NO SKIN. It's EYES FIRE out of it's SKULL as his partner's fist BURIES ITSELF into the exposed TISSUE AND BONE of the giant alligator's torso.

"GUOOOH!" the ALLIGATOR GROANS AS THE PUNCH LITERALLY TURNS THE FUCKER INSIDE OUT, REVEALING HIS LEATHERY, REPTILIAN INSIDES before the GATOR TOTALLY EXPLODES.

Droz looks a little surprised as the mysterious partner pulls back a bloodied, boxing glove-clad fist.

"Maybe I was wrong about you," Droz says. "Come on, let's keep moving."

---

"How's the brandy, sir?" Wilson P. Hickenbottom asks. Baron Hoity von Toity brings the glass to his lips and lets the Hors D'Age soak in.

"Excellent, as always, Hickenbottom," Toity says. He sets the glass down on a table made entirely out of white tigers and walks to one of the windows of his majestic zeppelin. Looking down, he sees FTUW fans boarding the vessel hosting tonight's event, but it's what's in the distance that is a little troubling. Even past the awesome glow of the Queerbasher Memorial River Boat Casino he can see thousands of specks of light, half in the west and half in the east.

"So they're coming, aren't they?" Toity says.

"Yes, that seems to be the case," Hickenbottom adjusts his glasses. "Now that the two remaining Divine Fists have gone to war, no land in New America is safe."

"They're converging here, at the capital."

"That's what we suspect, sir."

Toity raises his cane made from partially from one of McHarris' arms. Looking at the scarred bone, an idea suddenly strikes him.

"So, the forces of Zeed and the Chinese Kombo King will eventually clash here, isn't that right, Mr. Hickenbottom?" Toity says, rubbing the bone.

"Y-Yes. It's unexpected and unfortunate, but there's not much we can do. This whole area will be transformed into an ocean of blood," Hickenbottom says, pulling at his collar.

Toity bursts into laughter, startling Hickenbottom.

"Perfect!" Toity smiles. "I'll just use that to my advantage!"

"Y-Your advantage, sir?"

"When the FTUW was under James Brock McHarris' control, he had to endure bigger hardships than a silly war," Toity grins, his leathery cheeks taking on a rosy hue. "I couldn't call myself the FTUW owner if I couldn't weather this!"

"W-What are you planning to do, sir?"

Hoity von Toity spins around dramatically and points his cane towards the sky.

"And I certainly couldn't call myself a promoter if I couldn't take advantage of such a tantalizing situation!"

[Ryoko's Biatch]

J.R.: Goddamn it, Warrior.

WW: Jim, what's the problem?

J.R.: Oh, I just dropped my book.

WW: Your book, Jim?

J.R.: That's right, Warrior. My new cookbook, "Good Ol J.R.'s Apocalyptic Bar-B-Q Book," available now from Von Toity Press.

WW: Wow, that sounds like something Warrior can get behind. What kind of recipes are in the book?

J.R.: Well, Warrior, for starters, there's a whole chapter about preparing radioactive mutant beef. Roasting radioactive meat is very tricky, but if you follow my instructions, you can't go wrong. I even included a few anecdotes about Oklahoma.

WW: Oklahoma? Wow, what a deal!

J.R.: You want to talk about deals, Warrior? The first five hundred customers will get a FREE bottle of J.R.'s Family Bar-B-Q sauce, perfect for barbequing your fami- Wait a minute. Dammit, Von Toity, that's just sick!

WW: Whoa, whoa, J.R. Settle down! I know you're excited about barbeque and sauce and eating, but insulting Baron von Toity? You should really be ashamed of yourself.

J.R.: I'm not calming down over this, dammit! Baron von Toity will stop at nothing to make a profit! Who does he think he is, promoting SICK actions like that? I'm madder than a gang of Oklahoma rattlers being poked with sharp sticks!

WW: SHUT THE FUCK UP OR I WILL FUCKING RAPE YOUR DEAD MOTHER AND MY HARD DICK WILL EXPLODE HER CORPSE INTO DUST INFECTED WITH WARRIOR JIZZ THAT WILL BURN YOUR SOUL LIKE ACID RAAAAAAAAWAHUGH

J.R.: Uh ... Anyway, welcome to The Emperors of Blood vs. The Fuck-Snake Warriors, here at the grand Queerbasher Memorial River Boat Casino in Butt-Fuck Bayou! I'm Good Ol J.R. and, as always, I'm with the inimitable Warrior.

WW: That's right, J.R. You're here with ME.

J.R.: Yes, I am. How does it feel being in a river boat casino dedicated to the memory of your son?

WW: MY SON IS NOT A FAGGOT QUEER, SO SHUT THE FUCK UP

J.R.: Yes, well, The Emperors of Blood vs. The Fuck-Snake Warriors.

WW: I'm going to go with The Fuck-Snake Warriors since the word Warriors is in their name.

J.R.: I'm looking at the card and no such match is on it. So I have no idea what the title even means.

WW: Okay, motherfuckers, new rule. The winners are Fuck-Snake Warriors and I'll buy them an ASS-FUCKINGLY HUGE steak.

J.R.: What about the Emperors of Blood?

WW: I didn't think about that part. Fuck it, who cares?

J.R.: Speaking of nobody caring, Ren Alexander will be fighting Glorious Titan in a Soul Obliteration Match. The loser will have his soul obliterated.

WW: Wait, who are those guys?

J.R.: Exactly. A soul obliteration gun will be suspended above the ring and whoever gets the gun and shoots the other guy will be the winner because they'll still be alive and have a soul. So ... I'm going to go eat while the match is going on.

WW: And I'm going to break an angry bull's neck with my bare hands and then eat the raw flesh. We'll be back in a few minutes.

As overweight bitches flash their floppy pancake titties, Reginald Lightning is rolled into the balcony over the ring set up in the grand ballroom of the river boat. I'm just kidding, it's the engine room. No one wants to watch this shit. It's shown on a television over the bar on mute. Five old guys in overalls cackle uncontrollably next to a pile of coal.

Reginald's voice vibrates the whole room. "Coming in first, Ren Alexander. Then Glorious Titan." Reginald is rolled out of the room.

The two fighters walk into the room and make a sprint toward the soul obliteration gun. Ren Alexander's long limbs grip Titan's neck and use him to flip into the air toward the gun. As he falls, he pulls the trigger, but Titan raises his shield, bouncing the laser back at Ren, turning Ren's body into vapor.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

J.R.: Wow, that was delicious.

WW: Yeah! Fuck yeah!

J.R.: So, let's get on with a match that people might actually care about.

WW: I know I do.

J.R.: Preternatural rocker Axelrod Waylyn will face off in the squared circle against Corporal Body, who has had nearly every molecule in his body horribly scarred and yet he isn't dead. I don't know if he's dumber than a sack of rocks or if he's really that tough.

WW: Why can't it be both?

J.R.: Good point, Warrior. Let's turn it over the Reginald Lightning.

In the grand ballroom a ring made of the tanned skin of queers sits in the middle surrounded by toothless hicks. In one corner, Vinny's mom is playing video poker while her son slaves away, mopping up the fluids of degenerates and the diarrhea that leaks from his ruined bowels. Reginald Lightning is lowered into the center of the ring via a crude system of pulleys.

"First, our challenger, his body of work proves he's a believer in corporal punishment, CORPORAL BODY!"

The room is filled with boos, both for Body, who is led toward the ring by a seeing-eye midget, and for horrible puns that are below even total shitheads like them.

"And, uh, AXELROD WAYLYN!"

WW: Puns are the lowest form of humor, Jim.

J.R.: You might say Lightning should be punished for that.

WW: No, Jim. I don't want to kill you, but I will.

Axelrod walks toward the ring with a Stone Cold cigarette in one hand and a can of Stone Cold Brew in the other. Before Waylyn makes much progress, a guy with a banjo jumps in front of him and stares him down.

J.R.: This can't be good!

The hick pops his knuckles and starts rocking his banjo.

J.R.: That is a pleasant tune. Axelrod Waylyn could learn a thing or two from this guy.

WW: Jim, you don't understand the power of rock.

Before the hick can finish his challenge, Axelrod pours his beer over the hick's head. Pulling out his mighty axe, Waylyn gently strums away on the strings. The hick wipes the alcohol from his eyes in time for Waylyn TO START FUCKING WAILING AWAY. AXELROD THRASHES SO HARD THAT ALL OF THE HICKS AROUND HIM GET HUGE 80s HAIR AND THEIR CLOTHES TRANSFORM INTO GAUDY SPANDEX. WHEN HE POINTS HIS GUITAR AT THE BANJO-PLAYING HICK, THE ALCOHOL IGNITES AND REDUCES HIM TO ASHES.

WW: That's the fucking power of rock.

Axelrod slithers between the ropes and readies for the match by putting a second cigarette between his lips. Soon the bell rings, but neither fighter moves.

J.R.: Corporal Body can't hear the bell because he ripped out his own eardrums, but why isn't Axelrod Waylyn RASSLIN?

Waylyn's fingers start miming a guitar solo and finally he grins. "I just wrote a special song for you, Body. Hope you like it."

"..."

Waylyn spreads his feet wide and plays a wicked guitar solo, leaning back farther than his emaciated form should be able to support.

YOU DON'T WANT IT WITH ME
I'M BELIEVING THAT PEOPLE ARE REALLY ANGELS AND DEMONS INSTEAD OF HUMAN BEINGS
I'M HAVING FEELINGS OF WANTING TO BE THE CAUSE OF YOU BLEEDING
CAUSING YOUR FAMILY TO BE GREIVING NOW YOUR SOUL IS LEAVING
I'M TURNING MY MIND TO HOLY WORDS AND RELIGIOUS BATTLES
LIKE CANNIBALS FEASTING OVER SERPENT RATTLES
I'M SEEING SHADOWS AND BODIES SWINGING FROM GALLOWS
WHILE I'M SITTING IN A CIRCLE SURROUNDED BY SEVEN CANDLES
MY EYES ROLL BACK, I SPEAK IN TONGUES, I BLEED FROM GUMS
TIME TO HIT THE STREETS WITH GUNS
BUSTING SEVENTY SHOTS LAUGHING AS CORPORAL BODY RUNS
I'LL KILL THE FAGGOT TILL MY EVIL DEED IS DONE
FTUW WITNESS MY VIOLENCE AND AGONY
BODY IS FAGGOTTY BUT I'LL KILL WHAT YOU HAND TO ME

Nearly everyone in the room has had their brain liquefied by the hour long guitar solo that follows, but Corporal Body just stands there like nothing happened. The pure anger and fury in Waylyn's eyes has faded into exhaustion as nothing he does seems to have any effect. His fingers are bleeding and one of the guitar pick fingernails has fallen out. He breathes hard as his cigarettes have burned past the filter and without nicotine, his lungs are incapable of respiration. Finally, his guitar explodes.

"No ... It's ... It's not possible ..." Axelrod mumbles before falling over. Bile pools around his face.

WW: No! This is impossible!

J.R.: Warrior, remember Corporal Body ripped his own eardrums out and is completely deaf, as well as being blind!

WW: THAT FUCKING CHEATING FAGGOT QUEER

J.R.: Well, Warrior, there's no rule against destroying your own body. In fact, the rule book promotes it for some reason.

Corporal Body feels Waylyn's body hit the mat and walks forward slowly, swinging his arms wildly. Axelrod starts seizing.

WW: God.

When Body trips over Waylyn, he stops and kneels over the BODY, punching it. Each blow sends more vomit exploding past Waylyn's lips, each blow adding more blood to the mixture.

J.R.: I think we can safely say that Axelrod Waylyn is done like an Oklahoma dinner. I can already hear the dinner bell ringing.

WW: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGUGHAASHITFUCK.

Axelrod starts regaining consciousness from the excruciating pain, and uses his fingers to slice through the mat, pulling himself underneath the ring. When Body's fist hits the queer leather, he stands up confused.

WW: ...

ANOTHER HOLE OPENS UP BEHIND CORPORAL BODY AS AXELROD FUCKIN' WAYLYN LEAPS OUT AND FLICKS HIS HAND OUT, SLICING BODY'S FUCKING ARM OFF. WITHOUT EVEN FLINCHING, THOUGH, BODY TURNS AND PUNCHES WAYLYN OUT OF THE AIR AND INTO THE TURNBUCKLE WITH HIS REMAINING ARM.

Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, Waylyn places three between his lips and snaps his guitar picks to spark them. "Gotta power up."

WW: The smooth flavor of Stone Cold Wife Ashtray cigarettes will give you power.

J.R.: That's what the ads say, anyway.

Axelrod flips over Corporal Body and grabs Body's severed arm. Using his guitar pick fingernails, he pulls out the veins and by plucking at them, the arm transforms into a flesh guitar with razor sharp bone shards sticking out all over it.

Axelrod says, "..."

Corporal Body says, "..."

WW: ...

J.R.: ...

Dead audience members say, "..."

THEN A FUCKING WICKED GUITAR SOLO BREAKS THE SILENCE AND AXELROD WAYLYN STABS CORPORAL BODY IN THE CHEST WITH THE HEAD OF THE GUITAR AND ROCKS SO FUCKING HARD THAT A HOLE EXPLODES OUT OF BODY'S BACK AND THE HOLES WHERE HIS EYES, EARS AND NOSE USED TO BE ERUPT BLOOD.

Corporal Body falls over backward, unconscious but not dead for reasons that may or may not be elaborated on at the next PPV. I can't say for sure. Anyway, Waylyn pins him and no one cheers because only Vinny, Vinny's mom, J.R. and Warrior are alive.

J.R.: That one is going in the record books for the first time a human arm has been transformed into a guitar and used to defeat the former owner of the arm in a wrestling match.

WW: That is probably true.

[Big Fagot]

JR: Well folks, our fact checkers just got back to us and it looks like we got one wrong. In 1973 at an event in Bremen, Germany, Baron Von Stinkerhofer did in fact have his arm torn off and used as a guitar against him by Mickey "Big" Fleer.

WW: I remember that, JR. My memory's not what it used to be, but I believe the entire Earth was destroyed.

JR: Interesting if true.

[Vinny]

As an acidic monsoon reshapes the landscape of Buttfuck Bayou, an army pushes forward to the Queerbasher Memorial River Boat Casino. This army of thousands, clad in shining gold armor, rides their horses down into a muddy valley. They are a far cry from the diverse and monstrous army of Zeed.

Leading the pack is a man in a crimson cheongsam adorned with gold. His graying mustache and short beard blow, although grant him a distinguished and wise appearance, belie his almost century-long existence. He sits atop his prized black stallion and beloved companion, Tian Ma, who he holds so dear that he granted Tian Ma a war elephant to named Master Elephant to ride. Also, sometimes when crossing the sea, they ride a whale named The Blue King.

The man leading this army is none other than The Chinese Kombo King, Zhou Shi-Shin, the Divine Fist of the Eastern Kingdom. One of the two strongest warriors left alive in this world, Zhou Shi-Shin is on a warpath with his rival, the Divine Fist of Western Kingdom, Zeed. As they reach the summit of one of Buttfuck Bayou’s many shit hills, Zhou Shi-Shin has a violent coughing fit.

“Master!” a soldier shouts as he leaps to his side. Zhou Shi-Shin pulls back his hand to reveal a palm covered in blood.

“It’s quite alright,” Zhou Shi-Shin says, his steely gaze returning.

“We must turn back, Master! Your health is failing!”

”It is no concern. I would never dream of ascending into the next world with so much unfinished business, after all,” Zhou chuckles.

“B-But … in your condition … you could never hope to defeat Ze-“



“HYAAAAAH!” ZHOU SHI-SHIN says as the SOLDIER back flips like eighty fucking times before crashing on the back of Master Elephant. A bloody mess, the soldier looks up in fear at the silhouetted Zhou Shi-Shin staring down at him with his piercing eyes.

“Now then, do I still appear to you as a frail, old man?” Zhou Shi-Shin says.

“N-N-No sir!” the soldier shouts, before climbing down a ladder off the giant elephant.

The Zhou Shi-Shin reaches the Louisiana River, which has grown twenty times wider and 100 times deadlier now that it has the same pH as battery acid. It seems like the army will not be able to proceed farther until they discover a large, stone bridge constructed over the river. As the army begins to cross it, as DOZENS OF BANDITS BURST OUT OF THE WATER and shit!

“GWEE HEE HEE!” laughs a skinless goon wearing overalls and carrying a pitchfork. “YER IN OUR TERRITORY NOW, GOOK!”

BOOOOOM! A part of the bridge explodes, separating a small part of Zhou’s army with the rest of the group. From out of the shadows lumber alligator men wielding hacksaws, multi-limbed mutated inbred goons, and a whole cavalry of moonshine-guzzling, giant crayfish riding goons.

”Fork over yer dem gold trinkets if you know twat’s good for ya!” another goon shouts.

Zhou Shi-Shin merely shakes his head despite his current forces being vastly outnumbered, which IRRITATES the SHIT out of the SKINLESS GOON.

“HEY, WHAT IS YOUR SLANT ASS LAUGHIN’ AT, HUUUH?!”

The CAMERA ZOOMS IN right on ZHOU’S FACE AS A SINGLE EYE SNAPS OPEN.

“Let me show you the POWER OF THE EAST!” he shouts.

PRAAAAAANK!! TWO EIGHT FOOT TALL MONKS COVERED FROM HEAD-TO-TOE IN VEIN-LADEN MUSCLES BLANKA BALL INTO THE BANDITS, CAUSING THEM TO EXPLODE INTO GREASY CHUNKS. The two monks, one with the Chinese character “SKY” branded on his forehead and one with the character “EARTH” begin unceremoniously CHARGING INTO THE FRAY, ripping EVERY SINGLE LIMB off EACH GOON as they PROGRESS.

“L-LET’S GET DA FUCK OUTTA HERE!” THE REMAINING GOONS SCREAM when SUDDENLY TWO GIGANTIC CLEAVERS are FLUNG THROUGH THE AIR, dicing the COWARDS into CHOP SUEY! The two cleavers SLAM INTO the BRIDGE and ZHOU SHI-SHIN PERCES ONTO IT, his BEARD AND BRAID BLOWING BRAVE AND BEAUTIFULY IN THE BOSOM OF BUTTFUCK BAYOU.

“THE SKY IN THE EAST IS BURNING RED!” ZHOU SHI-SHIN SHOUTS, kicking a GOON in the FUCKING STOMACH. He drops to his knees and BEGINS GAGGING. Desperately trying to vomit, he shoves his FINGER DOWN HIS THROAT to try and UPCHUCK. Finally, he PURGES and his OWN HEART COMES SPEWING OUT OF HIS MOUTH. He can scream in horror for only a few more seconds before dying horribly.

Zhou Shi-Shin then continues SLIDING GRACEFULLY in and out of the GOON MOBS, delivering PRECISE STRIKES that cause them to shit out their lungs, throw up their testicles, or have their brains squeezed out of their ears like hamburger. Some of Zhou Shi-Shin’s soldiers fall to their knees and OPENLY WEEP at the beauty of his martial arts.

“NO NO NO! STAY AWAY YA BASTAAARD!” the SKINLESS GOON as ZHOU SHI-SHIN DESCENDS UPON HIM. In an instant, THE CHINESE KOMBO KING FIRES OFF A DOZEN STRIKES that cause all off the goon’s MUSCLES AND NERVES TO UNRAVEL, LEAVING ONLY A SKELETON. In less than one minute the nearly HUNDRED MAN FORCE was decimated by less than a dozen.

An hour passes as the entire army of the Chinese Kombo King crosses the bridge, the hole plugged with the numerous bandit corpses. Zhou Shi-Shin rides at the front stoically, heading to his final battle with Zeed at the Queerbasher Memorial River Boat Casino.

[Vinny]

J.R.: I don’t think there’s going to be much left of Corporal Body if his losing streak continues.

W.W.: Yeah, that fag’s match is over now, Jim. It’s time to move onto bigger and better things, and when I mean bigger, I mean bigger!

J.R.: Right you are, Warrior! Up next is the unstoppable Lunar Plexus up against the Sparta brothers! Although Plexus has been, well, rather stoppable as of late, he could use tonight to redeem himself and get back on track for championship gold! And the Spartas also have the same opportunity to elevate themselves to main event status!

W.W.: Forget those science-loving cockrangers. There’s no way Lunar Plexus would lose against them.

J.R.: Have you noticed the trend as of late that every superstar you’ve gotten behind has been losing match after match?

W.W.: So?

J.R.: And the superstar you despise the most is our FTUW Champion?

W.W.: SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH, JIM. I’m still contesting that supposed “victory” and it’s only a matter of time before the INCREDIBLY WISE and BENEVOLENT BARON HOITY VON TOITY sees things MY WAY and STRIPS THE TITLE from that MASCARA-WEARING GIGAQUEEN. Also, I’ve heard Baron von Toity’s penis is actually a boa constrictor.

J.R.: What does that mean?

W.W.: Well, it’s either huge or it’s an actual member of the reptile kingdom. I don’t know, I’ve just heard INFINITE STORIES from the INFINITE WOMEN who he’s slept with, which none of them which actually didn’t, uh, survive the encounter.

J.R.: Was that even a sentence?

W.W.: Toity is great, Jim.

J.R.: Regardless of how gay the ILLUSIONIST actually is or if Toity’s penis is a giant snake, it’s time for our next match!

Through the WILD AND ROWDY CROWD emerges REGINALD LIGHTNING, our brave announcer, being BODYSURFED to the ring by prancing leather-bound queers, completely nude chicks doused in shiny layers of animal fat, and oversized goons.

W.W.: Say, why is that diverse group of individuals not completely fucking and killing each other, Jim?

J.R.: Von Toity has gone to great lengths to ensure fan safety for, well, the first time ever and so those fans not in the FUCK AND KILL ZONE aren’t allowed to do either.

W.W.: Ah, so where’s that?

J.R.: The entire arena except for those 10 square yards Reginald Lightning entered on.

Burly guys in cheetah thongs lift Reginald Lightning onto their shoulders and climb into the ring. Reginald Lightning’s body from the neck down looks almost like a skeleton clad in an ill-fitting tuxedo. His giant, throbbing neck is acting as a parasite, draining his life juices to POWER his voice box.

Lightning: COMING TO THE RING FIRST, HAILING MARTINSVILLE, VIRGINIA … WITH A COMBINED WEIGHT OF 400 POUNDS … SPAAAAARTAAAAAA!!

Alessandro Sparta walks out awkwardly from the entrance with his unconscious brother on his back to a giant explosion of fireworks, which happens every 10 minutes on this boat. Despite that, the crowd greets them with a chorus of boos and beer bottles because of their incredibly drab, potato sack-like attire. In an effort to quickly win the fans’ favor, Al Sparta uses his GRAVITY POWERS to tear off the shirt of the only chick who hasn’t flashed her tits yet. The crowd EXPLODES in response and the men around her begin slapping her in the face with their dicks.

Lightning: AND HIS OPPONENT, FROM CASTLEVANIA … WEIGHING IN AT 900 POUNDS … LUNAAAAR PLEXUUUUUS!!

Lunar Plexus struts onto the stage to the tune of the Wood Carving Partita. As he does Hulk Hogan’s entire routine of flexing and posing, fans reach out to SLAP FIVE with the ONCE BLUE BRUTE. Lunar Plexus reciprocates, of course, but accidentally DISARMS (hehe) the entire row. Shaking away the appendages, he wipes his bloody hand on the face of a crying child.

W.W.: Tits and violence! What entrances!

Plexus looks down at the Sparta brothers with all the :smug he can muster (see Seru’s current PP, sans harmonica). The BELL RINGS and the TWO FIGHTERS EXPLODE FORWARD!

J.R.: HERE WE GO, FOLKS!

FWOOOOSH! An ALMOST HURRICANE-INDUCING CLOTHESLINE by PLEXUS SOARS over the COLLECTIVE HEADS of the SPARTA BROTHERS as ALESSANDRO DUCKS DOWN. Reversing gravity, Al Sparta LAUNCHES Nick Sparta TWENTY FEET STRAIGHT UP into the AIR for SEEMINGLY NO REASON.

“GRAVITY BOMB!” AL SCREAMS, now that his brother is out of HARM’S WAY.

J.R.: GRAVITY BOMB?! THIS EARLY?

UNLEASHING TONS OF ENERGY INTO THE AIR USING RESONANCE, the entire RING begins TO QUAKE. All the RING ROPES SNAP and FANS in the FRONT ROW’s HEADS DROP down and they begin to be CHOKED by the GUARD RAIL. The intense GRAVITY even stifles the INDOMITABLE LUNAR PLEXUS.

“SCHIZO CRUSHAAA!” SCREAMS NICK SPARTA, WHO HAS JUST SNAPPED INTO CONSCIOUSNESS. WITH HIS ARMS FOLDED ACROSS HIS CHEST, HE SPINS FEET FIRST TOWARDS PLEXUS LIKE A DRILL, ENERGY FIELDS AROUND HIS FEET TO MAKE THE ATTACK EVEN MORE DEADLY.

“H-Huh?!” Lunar Plexus struggles to lift his arms but finds that the GRAVITY is even too STRONG for his MIGHTY MUSCLES.

BAWRAAAANK!! Blood SPRAYS from LUNAR PLEXUS FACE and immediately DROPS TO THE GROUND. Plexus is sent SPRAWLING into the AIR and onto the HAPLESS CROWD, CRUSHING THEM.

W.W.: FUCK THIS SHIT, I QUIT!

J.R.: NICK & AL SPARTA MAY HAVE WON THIS MATCH IN LESS THAN TEN SECONDS!

Al Sparta SNAPS AWAKE in an ALMOST DRUNKEN HAZE and ROLLS out of the ring. Using his GRAVITY POWA, he lightens the 900 POUND LOAD of Lunar Plexus so he can drag him into the ring. Once in, he GRABS him UNCONSCIOUS BROTHER and they GO BOTH FOR THE COVER, their COMBINED WEIGHT increased by AL’S GRAVITY!

OOOOOOOOOONE!



TWOOOOOOOOOO!



“PATHETIC!!” PLEXUS SCREAMS AS HIS EYES SNAP OPEN. Using only his MIGHTY PECTORALS, he FLEXES the BROTHERS SPARTA off of him and INTO THE AIR.

W.W.: I RETRACT MY RESIGNATION!

KIPPING TO HIS FEET, Lunar Plexus GRABS them BOTH BY THEIR NECKS and HITS A DOUBLE DDT!

Wiping the blood from his brow, Plexus grabs the FIRST SPARTA he sees by their hair. It happens to be Nick, and he uses his massive fingers to open his eyelids. Noticing that he isn’t conscious, he sees a FURIOUS AL SPARTA behind wearing a mask of blood!

“FRAME DRA-“

“IMPOTENT!” PLEXUS SCREAMS as he STOPS THE ATTACK with a BIG BOOT, sending Al Sparta spinning in air repeatedly.

Nick crawls to his feet and lifts a hand to Plexus. HE THEN UNLEASHES A HUNDRED RAZOR-SHARP FORCE FIELDS, SLAMMING INTO PLEXUS’ IRON-LIKE SKIN. Plexus SHRUGS off the dozens of small wounds and stomps forward.

“FEEBLE!” PLEXUS SHOUTS, grabbing a RING ROPE and WHIPPING Nick Sparta in the chest, slashing it open. He wraps it around his neck and uses it to FLING HIM into a NEARBY RING POST.

J.R.: Plexus is takin’ the Sparta boys out to the woodshed! What a slobberknocker!

With the two Spartas at his feet, Lunar Plexus takes this time to whip out his thesaurus.

“COMMISERABLE!” he says, GRABBING THEM BY THEIR FEET. SPINNING ON HIS HEELS, HE BIG SWINGS THE TWO SPARTAS AND LAUNCHES THEM INTO THE AUDIENCE.

Plexus yanks the nearby referee by his collar and props him down in front of him.

“Count them out, lowly maggot,” Plexus says. “Yes, the count out. The most unsatisfying of defeats.”

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

J.R.: Is this really how it’s going to end? Come on, all the fighters can still walk!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

Nick Sparta then SUDDENLY APPEARS SWINING on a line OF CHRISTMAS LIGHTS. With his FINGERS in a GUN SHAPE, he begins FIRING OFF SUPER SHARP FORCE FIELDS. Lunar Plexus stands there, unimpressed, as the force fields cut open his non-vital areas.

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

FLYING FROM THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS, Nick wraps his LEGS around Lunar Plexus’ head and goes for the HURRICARANA … but FAILS! Lunar Plexus is like ten feet tall, after all.

J.R.: Nice effort, but Lunar Plexus is unstoppable. The only thing could go wrong if Lunar Plexus underestimated his opponents even more than he does now and continues foregoing attempting to win in favor of crossing his arms and chuckling. Fortunately for him, as long as nothing unexpected happens he should be in the OH SHIT IT’S AL SPARTA!

AL SPARTA FLIES OUT OF NOWHERE, FLIPS OVER LUNAR PLEXUS, AND LOCKS ARMS WITH NICK TO DO A TWO-MAN HURRICARANA!

J.R.: Wait, nothing happened.

W.W.: LUNAR PLEXUS IS STILL TOO FUCKING BIG!

Plexus coughs into his hand before unceremoniously powerbombing the two of them.

J.R.: Well, I’ll be. I guess Lunar Plexus can do anything he wants. He’s just so damned invincible that it doesn’t matter! I reckon he could even whip out his dick right now and-BAH GAWD, HE JUST WHIPPED OUT HIS DICK!

With an asshole smirk, Lunar Plexus saunters forward while swinging his Castlevanian Cock.

J.R.: What’s he going to do, hit them with it?

W.W.: Why the hell not, Jim? Do you see that thing? You could kill a horse with a dick like that!

J.R.: And this guy is your hero.

As Lunar Plexus stands over his PREY, a dazed and bloodied Nick Sparta lifts his head as a massive shadow is cast over him. His EYES GO WIDE when he sees a HUGE, PALE DICK AIMING AT HIM and RAISES HIS HANDS TO DEFEND HIMSELF.

“KID … SAY GOODBYE!” PLEXUS SHOUTS! BUT JUST THEN, NICK SPARTA SHOOTS A FORCE FIELD UP HIS URETHRA, EXPANDS IT, AND MOTHERFUCKING *EXPLODES* LUNAR PLEXUS’ COCK!

J.R.: BAH GAWD! HE BLEW UP HIS GAHDAMNED DICK!

W.W.: MOTHER CUNT FUCK FUCK!!

J.R.: WHO EVER THOUGHT THAT PULLING OUT YOUR PENIS DURING A DEATH MATCH WOULD BE SUCH A BAD DECISION!

Plexus stares at his bleeding stump of a dick in utter disbelief. And WHILE DISTRACTED, AL SPARTA GRABS HIS ARM AND PREPARES HIS FINAL ATTACK.

“FRAAAAME DRAAAG!” AL SPARTA SAYS AS HE BEGINS SPINNING. DUMPING HIS REMAINING ENERGY INTO ONE FINAL ATTACK. LIVING AND DEAD FANS IN THE FRONT ROW ARE SLOWLY LIFTING INTO THE AIR AND SWIRLED AROUND THE RING. Even the MIGHTY LUNAR PLEXUS IS LIFTED INTO THE AIR, his INSIDES BEING ROCKED BY THE POWERFUL GRAVITATIONAL FIELDS AT WORK.

J.R.: THIS MIGHT BE IT!

Numerous CUTS appear over AL SPARTA as HE REACHES HIS LIMITS. Bodies fall from the sky as LUNAR PLEXUS IS SLAMMED HEAD FIRST INTO THE MAT. As Sparta crawls forward towards Lunar Plexus, the extreme toll on his body causes him to PASS OUT.

NICK’S EYES SNAP OPEN and HE RUSHES TO DIVE ONTO LUNAR PLEXUS. GETTING THE COVER, THE BRUISED AND BATTERED REFEREE GOES FOR THE COUNT.

OOOOOOOOOONE!




TWOOOOOOOOOO!





THREEEE-KICKOUT! JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME, LUNAR PLEXUS KICKS OUT!

J.R.: IT AIN’T OVER YET!

Nick kneels beside Plexus, his body to FUCKED UP to continue forward. A DICKLESS LUNAR PLEXUS rises up from the MAT, BURNING HATE IN HIS EYES.

“YOUUUUU FUUUUUUCKING FAAAAAGGOT …” PLEXUS GROANS AS HE STOMPS FORWARD. As a LAST-DITCH EFFORT, NICK SPARTA PULLS SOME BIG-TITTIED BITCH IN FRONT OF HIM AND USES HER AS A SHIELD.

W.W.: LIKE THAT’D STOP PLEXUS!

BOOOOOOOM! PLEXUS JUST DRIVES HIS FIST INTO THE SLUT AND INTO NICK. BUT SOMETHING’S WRONG, THE PUNCH DOESN’T GO THROUGH THE WOMAN. IT JUST STOPS!

“W-What?!” Plexus says.

SUDDENLY, THE GIRL’S SHIRT EXPLODES OPEN AND LUNAR PLEXUS IS FUCKING CLOCKED IN THE FACE WITH A ROW OF THIRTY CHAIRS!

W.W.: CHAIRS?!

J.R.: IT … CAN’T BE!

WITH HER TITTIES OUT, THE WOMAN QUICKLY REACHES INTO HER POCKET AND APPLIES LOTS OF MASCARA AND BLACK LIPSTICK. TAKING OFF HER BLOND WIG, EVERYONE SUDDENLY REALIZES IT’S NONE OTHER THAN GIGI!

J.R.: IT’S GIGI! GIGI! WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOIN’ HERE?

W.W.: COVER YOUR SHAME, WOMAN!

Gigi applies miniature steel chair pasties and grabs a microphone.

“It’s TOTALLY UNFAIR that I was left off this card!” Gigi shouts. “What the hell? It’s like the BOOKERS JUST FORGOT I EXISTED!”

Gigi spins around and VICIOUSLY CLOCKS NICK SPARTA WITH A STEEL CHAIR, KNOCKING THE EVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF HIM.

“So that’s why I CAME HERE TO INTERRUPT THIS STUPID MATCH!” GIGI SAYS. She throws down the MICROPHONE as the REFEREE RULES A DOUBLE DISQUALIFICATION.

J.R.: A DISQUALIFICATION. This must be like … THE FIRST TIME EVER in FTUW history that there’s been a DQ!

W.W.: WHAT A SHITTY WAY TO MAKE HISTORY! Now help me, Jim! We gotta find a SPACE STALLION who’s willing to DONATE HIS DICK to LUNAR PLEXUS!

[Big Fagot]

JR: Our next fight is a matchup between Thrak, who is likely the patriarch of all humanity, and Harry Underwood, the man-bear who kills wantonly and speaks in misspellings and bad grammar.

WW: This is just about the best pairing imaginable. Godspeed, you soldiers of glory! May the best man win!

JR: Warrior, please put away your penis.

WW: ANYONE WHO DOESN’T SALUTE THESE PROUD COMBATANTS IS A TRAITOROUS DOG.

Reginald Lightning is wheeled to the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen … the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Arriving first to the ring, weighing somewhere between 245 and 4400 pounds, HARRY UNDERWOOD!”

Harry hops over the top rope and stands in his corner. He idly checks his appearance in a mirror in his wristwatch, and finding some honey at the corner of his mouth, wipes it away.

“And appearing now, his opponent, who is prohibitively difficult to weigh, THRAK!”

Thrak knucklewalks to the ring, ooking like Utils. A fan separated from him by a steel cage screams and points to the picture of Thrak on his T-shirt. Thrak, with barely enough of a forebrain to recognize the man in the image, becomes confused and grabs the shirt with his hand. The fan, immediately regretting his purchase, is pulled up against the cage. Thrak continues to tug, pulling his fan through a small opening in the metal and grinding him to pulp in the process.

JR: FTUW T-shirts are made of highly tear-resistant material, folks.

WW: Warrior grade!

Thrak plays with the bloody shirt, trying to figure out how to use it. He turns it upside down and pokes his leg through one of the armholes (the original blank shirt was stock surplus from the original FTUW, before the famines when all the fans were XL or larger). He then stabs his other leg through the other armhole and pulls it upside down over his nudity. He ooks and jumps about excitedly, then hops into the ring. The bell sounds.

Underwood immediately pulls out a silenced pistol and fires three shots at Thrak’s head, but the hominid dodges them all easily, not even cognizant that dodging bullets is anything to be impressed about.

JR: Thrak has great reflexes!

Using his knowledge of human movement and behavior, Underwood places several more shots at exactly the points where they are most likely to be unavoidable, but Thrak gets out of the way of every single one. Underwood throws the empty pistol at Thrak’s head, but Thrak catches it without effort and hurls it back! Harry barely dodges, and a fan takes the hunk of metal in the face, killing him. Nearby drunks begin drinking his blood for its precious alcohol.

Harry rushes forward and takes the fighting stance of one of his many styles. He throws a low kick, to which Thrak responds by just moving forward and headbutting him. Harry tumbles across the ring and lands against the ropes. He is jostled from momentary unconsciousness by Thrak excitedly tugging on the ropes at the other end of the ring in celebration. Post-America’s strongest pre-man stomps the ground playfully, causing the ring to quake ferociously.

JR: Thrak is a monster!

WW: Yes he is, JR, yes he fucking is! But don’t forget, he’s not the only one!

Harry Underwood’s clothes split open and his skin grows hair. He becomes the dreaded BEARRY UNDERWOOD! Thrak now stands before a fearsome opponent, and one he recognizes from his hunts back home! A giant grizzly bear, standing as a man does!

“Come,” says Harry, “I’ll show you why Ursa Major is the constellation of death!”

Thrak and Underwood charge at each other! Thrak punches at the same moment that Harry swipes at him! Their hits collide … and Harry comes out on top!

JR: Sufferin’ Succotash! Harry Underwood in bear form is just a bit too much even for Thrak!

WW: THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE

Thrak charges again and tackles Harry! Because of Underwood’s high center of gravity, he’s knocked back! They both flip out of the ring! As fans cheer madly and throw their food and possessions, Thrak gets to his feet quickly while Underwood is still twisting around to get righted. He runs in and slips his Bonerang around Underwood’s neck, and pulls tight to choke him!

JR: THE DREADED CHOKE HOLD! This move is 100% effective in wrestling!

Harry manages to stand erect and begins smashing Thrak into things, to no effect! Thrak holds on despite a humongous bear crushing him! Harry smashes him into the steel ringpost, denting it, but Thrak persists!

WW: It’ll take more than that to break his body!

Harry falls backward onto the steel guardrail, collapsing it utterly! Still Thrak’s grip remains tight! At length, desperate, Underwood (somehow with bear paws) grabs two fans by the ankles and begins smashing them against his back! Thrak is pulverized mercilessly, welts forming on his bronze skin where his descendants smack him like whips! When those two fans are obliterated, Underwood picks up two more! Thrak is painted with blood, his own and especially that of others!

Underwood crushes fan against fan against Thrak’s body, weakening his hold slightly, getting slight breaths of air now and then. At last, exhausted, Underwood collapses onto his back, crushing Thrak underneath him.



Thrak wakes up.

“Was I … unconscious?” he thinks, though not in so many words. He looks around but there’s no sign of Underwood. He runs through the grandstand, searching for anywhere that a giant bear could have gone.

JR: He doesn’t know what’s going on! He can’t even find his opponent!

Thrak stands around looking confused as a naked man appears from the audience. Covered in the tatters of a black suit, it’s Harry Underwood in human form!

WW: Underwood lost his bear form when he passed out from the choke hold!

Underwood slinks up behind Thrak silently! As he emerges from the crowd, we see that he’s dragging a sledgehammer!

JR: THAT’S ILLEGAL, I think!

Underwood raises the sledgehammer just as Thrak turns around! He slams it down on his thick head! Thrak topples, unconscious once again!

JR: This is unconscionable!

WW: Come on, baby! I’ve got a thousand of whatever the currency of this place and time is on Harry Underwood!

JR: You bet against Thrak?

WW: Don’t act so surprised! I placed the same bet on Thrak to win!

JR: You bet on both competitors? Isn’t that a surefire money loser?

WW: Someone needs to teach you how to bet like a man! When a fighter has Warrior spirit, you place a bet on him, and both of these guys have Warrior spirit!

Underwood drags Thrak to the ring to pin him. As he climbs the steel steps (man, a lot of stuff in and around rings is made of steel), a familiar voice calls to him from behind!

“Right on, Harry!”

Underwood turns around to see Max Telomere, his buddy from the academy! He’s showed up to Harry’s match to cheer him on, and is wearing his old agency outfit of black suit with black sunglasses! Harry pauses to shoot him a thumbs up in honor of his coming victory.

At that moment, Thrak begins to stir. The world around him is a haze. He sees the lights above him and a writhing mass of humans in front of him. He blinks and squints at one of the shapes. He recognizes the outfit and remembers who he’s fighting!

“OOOOOOOOOOOK!!!!” he screams, rushing Max! Grabbing him by the face, Thrak takes a huge bite out of his skull, fatally killing him!

“MAAAAAAAX!” screams Harry, pained indescribably in a fully heterosexual way. Hair begins to grow from his skin, this time not brown but gold!

“MAAAAAAX!”

Thrak turns around to face Underwood.

JR: Murder –

WW: FUCK!

Thrak swings his bonerang but Murderfuck Harry smashes into him anyway! He then kicks him high into the air directly above the ring!

WW: THIS IS IT!

Underwood leaps into the air and appears above Thrak! Thrak has no time to react! With a wild swipe, Underwood slams him in the face Murderfuckly! Thrak is fired straight down to the ring unconscious!

JR: UnBEARable Pain!

Harry descends toward the ring for the pin.



However, Thrak opens his eyes! He pulls upward on his Thrak t-shirt! Something fleshy emerges from the head hole!

WW: It’s Thrak’s cock!!

JR: Jumpin’ Jehosaphat! Thrak was hiding his boner behind the shirt since the beginning of the match!

WW: OH … MY … GOOOOOOOOOOD

Underwood can’t get out of the way! He lands on Thrak’s boner! Thrak begins RAPING HARRY UNDERWOOD!

JR: JESUS CHRIST!

HARRY’S SHIT FLIES EVERWHERE! THRAK JUMPS TO HIS FEET AND BEGINS THRUSTING FURIOUSLY AT HIS RECTUM! HARRY’S BEAR FORM DISAPPEARS! AFTER A MERCILESS TWENTY SECONDS OF FORCED LOVE, THRAK FIRES HIM OFF INTO THE TURNBUCKLE UPSIDE DOWN WITH HIS JIZZ! AS A COUP DE GRACE, THRAK HITS A FLYING DROPKICK INTO HIS STOMACH, FIRING QUASI-HUMAN SEMEN INTO THE AIR LIKE A FOUNTAIN, GIFTING THE FANS WITH HIS OWN GENETIC MATERIAL! UNDERWOOD FALLS TO THE GROUND DEFEATED! THRAK PINS! ONE! TWO! THREE!

JR: That’s it! It’s over! Thrak has won!

WW: I … I don’t know what I just saw. JR … was that manly?

JR: Shouldn’t you go collect on your bet?

WW: I … don’t think I want it anymore.

[Spamdini]

JR: We have a rematch from Murdergeddon up next. It’s Detective Jake Callaghan up against The Black Judge. Callaghan won the first encounter, earning a shot in the 4-man free-for-all for the FTUW title. This match isn’t for any title, but I’m sure that the judge will want some form of revenge.

Warrior: Judges in America are generally left-leaning pussies who won’t execute criminals for pissing on the sidewalk so I don’t know how he’ll stand a chance against a hard-nosed cop off the mean streets of Branson. Then again, Callaghan’s a fucking dog so fuck that.

JR: Thanks for the insight, Warrior.

Reginald Lightning: This match is scheduled for one-fall! First, making his way from Branson, Nouveau-Richonia, weighing in at 95 pounds, Detective Jake Callaghan!

Callaghan comes to the ring to the Peter Gunn theme, smoking a cigarette and acting aloof to the crowd’s cheers.

Warrior: Man, he’s so cool he doesn’t WHAT people think! That’s boss!

R. Lightning: And from Parts Unknown…

Warrior: YAAAAAAA! A hometown boy! I know who I’m cheering for now!

R. Lightning: …weighing in at 230 pounds, THE BLACK JUDGE!

The Black Judge rappels to the ring from the ceiling and the crowd goes nuts. Both competitors face off. A giant image of Jerry Orbach dressed as a samurai swirls behind Callaghan. A giant image of Sam Waterson dressed as a space knight swirls behind him. The bell rings and Black Judge whips out his giant gavel and charges.

“HOLD IT!!!”

The Judge freezes and we see various close-ups or him, the ref , the announcers and the crowd. Finally, the close-up focuses on Callaghan.

Callaghan: Ref, take his gavel away! It’s an illegal weapon!

Everyone stands still as they utter ellipses.

Referee: Uh, weapons aren’t against the rules. You can’t be disqualified in FTUW.

Callaghan: Tsk tsk, it’s just that no one has yet to be disqualified in FTUW. Referees are merely too afraid of the wrestlers to go through with a disqualification!

The Black Judge waves his finger at Callaghan.

Black Judge: Feh, there’s no precedent for a disqualification. You’re just trying to gain an advantage. No FTUW rulebook has been sanctioned and thus there is no rule forbidding my weapon.

“OBJECTION!!”

Callaghan: At both FTUW Intestinal Rape and FTUW Big Murder Fist Bonanza, there were Japanese Street Fight specialty matches that specifically stated that one stipulation would be no disqualifications! From that, we can infer that disqualifications were a possibility otherwise! Additionally, at Night of 1000 (evil entity) Sella Phayne was nearly disqualified by the referee for actions from an outside party! And just minutes ago we saw a man disqualified for the first time! How's that for precedence?

Black Judge: That’s circumstantial at best! There’s still no written rule about the use of weapons!

Callaghan: When FTUW was founded, James Brock McHarris carved the world “Extreme Vale Tudo Rules” in the skull of a homeless man and smashed a Mexican immigrant in the face with it. This is the only official FTUW rulebook ever recognized. Extreme Vale Tudo allows low blows, biting and eye gouging, but no weapons! Besides referee, control over the match is in your hands. I’m sure King von Toity would look favorably on a decision such as this that would benefit the league. Do you want someone coming to the ring with nukes one day?

Black Judge: That’s absurd and inflammatory!

The crowd murmurs over these statements.

Referee: Hm, yes, you bring up good points detective.

Black Judge: URK!

Referee: Relinquish your gavel or forfeit the match, Black Judge.

JR: BAH GAWD! Det. Callaghan disarmed the mighty Black Judge with only the power of words!

The bell rings again and the match gets started for real. Black Judge was still handing his gavel to a worker outside the ring when he turns his head and sees Callaghan lunging at him and biting into his shoulder! The ring worker is severed in half by the weight of the mighty weapon and with his last moments of life, chugs a beer and screams “FTU-FUCKING-W!”

Black Judge screams in pain as sharp fangs dig into his flesh. He tries to pry Callaghan’s jaws open, but to no avail. Out of desperation, he punches Callaghan off, taking a piece of his shoulder with him.

Black Judge: Objection! He just bit me! Disqualify him!

The ref thinks for a second before shaking his head.

Ref: No, biting is acceptable under Extreme Vale Tudo. Get back to the fight or I’ll disqualify you for being a little bitch!

The Black Judge grits his teeth in rage, but barely has an opportunity to feel pissed before Callaghan lunges at his again. He’s able to raise his right arm in time to block the canine’s teeth from reaching his jugular and they instead sink into his forearm. Unfettered, Callaghan flips around and headbutts the judge. A kick to his skull sends the Judge stumbling as he tries to return with a massive haymaker punch! Callaghan is far too quick however and leaps away before jumping at him again with an uppercut to the Judge’s jaw. Black Judge seems helpless as he swings around haphazardly while Callaghan hits him over and over again with punches and kicks.

JR: The Rhodesian Ridgeback is a dog known for its speed. No human can possibly keep up with those attacks!

Warrior: FTUW is all about battles between inhuman monsters. Black Judge can take that little son of a bitch down.

Callaghan runs at Black Judge again and throws a right hook straight for his temple!

CRUNK!!

A Black Judge elbow meets Callaghan’s face.

Black Judge: You think a shrimp like you could hurt me with attacks like that?

He picks up Callaghan and puts him on his shoulders, spinning around in circles before slamming the detective headfirst into the ground!

Black Judge: BURNING GAVEL!

JR: BAH GAWD! HE JUST NEARLY KILLED CALLAGHAN WITH THAT SLAM!

Warrior: Psh, what’d I tell you? A 95 pound chump has no chance of hurting a 230-pound wall of muscle like the Black Judge! This match is over!

The Judge pins Callaghan.

ONE…

TWO…

TH…KICKOUT! Callaghan kicks out at the last possible millisecond! HE rolls out of the way and points his paw right at the Judge.

Callaghan: HOLD...UNG!

Callaghan stumbles a bit and holds his aching skull.

Black Judge: You won’t be using your mind games this time, fiend! With a concussion like that, I doubt you’ll be quite as eloquent as you usually are!

JR: BLACK JUDGE HAS JUST DISARMED CALLAGHAN AS WELL! WHAT A TURNABOUT!

His opponent dizzied by the last attack, Black Judge sees his opportunity to finish this and runs straight at Callaghan with a clothesline!

Blood sprays across the ring.

“U…UWAAA!”

Black Judge holds his face as blood gushes from his eyes! Callaghan sneers as blood drips from his outstretched paw with its long, sharpened claws.

JR: CALLAGHAN JUST GOUGED OUT BLACK JUDGE’S EYES! BAH GAWWWWWWWWWD!

Black Judge stumbles around the ring blindly and feels his face. He touches two deep wounds around each of his eyebrows and gives a small sigh of relief that neither of his eyeballs were touched. However, the sheer amount of blood pouring out is in his eyes and blinds him nevertheless.

While Black Judge writhes in pain and darkness, Callaghan takes one of the top ropes and twists himself up in it.

Callaghan: I’ll…show you…how I 95 pounds is more than enough to hurt you!

Callaghan lets the ropes go and they unwind, firing him like a slingshot head first at Black Judge! The impact in enough to wound the big man and he can’t avoid the attack! Callaghan keeps bouncing off the ropes and more and more blood sprays across the ring with each successive strike! The furry arrow keeps hitting its mark and Black Judge can’t even brace himself for the attacks! Finally, he’s able to wipe enough of the blood away from his eyes to see and takes a weak swipe at Callaghan as he passes by. The detective deftly flips out of the way, however. Black Judge stumbles and falls to one knee in a puddle of his own blood.

Callaghan: I don’t have to be heavy or strong to shed…your blood. I bet you can barely stand, let alone put up a good fight at this point. Let’s see how much blood you’ve got left in you! You’re through, Judge!

Callaghan stretches his muscles as he prepares for an attack.

Warrior: What’s that sneaky pooch planning? A new attack?

Callaghan: OBIDIENCE SCHOOL COMBO!

The detective dashes at his opponent, grabs the Judge and launches him through the air. Callaghan gives chase to the flying Judge and jumps up in the air as he’s coming down.

Callaghan: FIRST LESSON: FRISBEE CATCH!

He bites into the Judge’s torso as he passes by! More blood squirts out and Black Judge wails in pain. He begins to fall down to the mat and prepare to crash. But he doesn’t crash! His body is being balanced on Callaghan’s nose!

Callaghan: SECOND LESSON: BALANCE THE TREAT!

The detective keeps Black Judge balanced there for several second before finally tossing him up into the air and biting him! More blood flows as the mat becomes slippery with the crimson juices of the Judge.

JR: THIS IS CARNAGE! STOP THE DAMN MATCH!

Callaghan: THIRD LESSON: SHAKE HANDS!

Callaghan grabs Black Judge’s arms and begins bending them awkwardly in a submission move before using a double-underhook suplex to take him down.

Callaghan: FOURTH LESSON: DIG FOR THE BONE!

Jake Callaghan begins clawing at Black Judge’s stomach, tearing skin and muscle apart! Time goes on and the Black Judge is put through a series of dog-themed submission moves, slams and attacks until he lies on the mat, unconscious and soaked head-to-toe in blood.

Callaghan: FINAL LESSON: KILL!

TORTURE RACK! Callaghan picks up Black Judge and puts him in the TORTURE RACK! He pulls down on the man’s neck and legs, forcing bones to crack and muscles to begin coming apart!

JR: IT’S OVER! THE TORTURE RACK IS UNESCAPABLE!

“OBJECTION!!!”

Close-up shots of Callaghan’s face, JR’s face, the ref’s face and Warrior face (Warrior is eating a raw steak in this close-up).

Black Judge: Under normal circumstances, it may be hard to escape this hold. Maybe impossible. However, you’ve fallen into my trap!

And with that, Black Judge uses the slipperiness of his own blood to slide out of the Torture Rack! Callaghan is stunned by this phenomenon and even more so when Black Judge takes him and places him in a FULL NELSON!

JR: CROSS EXAMINATION! THAT DOG IS TRAPPED LIKE A DAMN RAT!

Black Judge: You were too cocky with your own power! The trial is only over with the judge slams his gavel down for the last time! Why did you get so sloppy? Didn’t you know that this would lead to your downfall? Wasn’t the outcome obvious from the beginning?

Callaghan: U…UNG!

The ref checks on Callaghan. He doesn’t give up, though.

Callaghan: I…I’ve got a cross-examination of my own. Didn’t you think that your plan would work both ways?

Callaghan uses the blood on Black Judge’s arms to slip out of the hold!!

Black Judge: Yes. In fact, I was COUNTING ON IT!

Black Judge puts Callaghan on his shoulders and begins spinning rapidly again!

Black Judge: Didn’t I tell you that it only ends with the final slam of the gavel?!

Spinning faster and faster, Black Judge becomes a blur! The crowd begins feeling the pressure of the wind created by the spin and many of the spectators in the first row are flung back. Sadly, the Chainsaw Chest gang happen to be sitting in the middle rows and they’re sliced to ribbons!

The blur in the ring is now a black tornado!! When the tornado dissipates, Black Judge appears high in the air with Callaghan still on his shoulders! They both fly back down to Earth and the Judge drills Callaghan with a SUPER BURNING GAVEL! The mat caves in and Callaghan in unconscious in a giant indentation in the center of the ring! Black Judges covers and the ref makes the count!

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!!!

JR: BLACK JUDGE WINS! BLACK JUDGE WINS!

Warrior: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, THIS IS UP FOR ALL MY WARRIORS BACK HOME IN PARTS UNKNOWN! WE HAVE REASON TO BE PROUD TONIGHT MY WARRIORLINGS!

[Vinny]

The thunderous war drums of Zeed’s army fill the putrid air as his aborted masses of inhumanity lurch across the drowned lands of Buttfuck Bayou. An oversized alligator bursts from the SWAMP but the RAVING MONSTROSITIES just leap onto it, TEARING its FLESH from its BONE and devouring it like a swarm of ants. Giant, two trunked elephants tower over the horizon as the horrible legion of the Living God and Divine Fist of the West, Zeed, march on towards the Chinese Kombo King.

And among them all is their king, the most horrifying creature placed on this planet. The fifteen tall emperor sits on his throne forged from the Statue of Liberty’s head. In his lap is two nude women, in the throes of ECTASY while mounted on his **TWO** FUCKING COCKS. A latrine filled with nude women sit around the base of the throne while shadows obscuring his face except for his smile.

Suddenly, Zeed spots something interesting in the distance: a nearby village. Taking his impossibly long arm, he reaches down and plucks one of his soldiers. As the soldier begins to soil himself, Zeed brings the soldier’s ear to his lips.

“That village …” Zeed says in officially the deepest voice ever in the world. “Let’s cut through there before we reach the battlefield. I’d like to … stock up … before we meet Zhou’s army. It’s going to be a long night, after all.”

The armies of Zeed ravage the village in only a few minutes, all the men killed by the soldiers. The town’s mayor had sent the women and children into a rundown house before being impaled by twenty harpoons.

They all huddle in fear as they hear STOMPING APPROACHING.

CRAAACK! THE ROOF OF THE HOUSE IS LITERALLY LIFTED OFF AS ZEED PEEKS INTO THE HOME. HE SEES THE GIRLS, HIS PREY, AND HIS RIDICULOUSLY LONG TONGUE SLIDES OUT OF HIS MOUTH AND LICKS HIS LIPS. As Zeed grows a DOUBLE ERECTION, the MOONLIGHT CASTS a SILHOUETTE OF HIS MONSTER COCKS OVER TOP THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN.

“COME …” ZEED SAYS, SMILING. “BE ONE WITH YOUR NEW GOD.”

Twenty minutes later the entire village’s women are in a pile behind Zeed as he finishes the last two off with a VIGOROUS FUCKING. Zeed pulls them off, tosses them away, and licks the bloody juices from his fingers.

“It seems … I over did it …” Zeed chuckles.

[Vinny]

J.R.: And here we are, folks, the MAIN EVENT!

W.W.: Yes, a FTUW Championship match between two DEGENERATE fucks that don’t even DESERVE to be in the ring, unless it was some sort of p/c homo cookie party where instead of two VIRILE, INTENSE WARRIORS duking it out you have LIGHT-LOAFERED SUBHUMANS making out, or something. But this is the FTUW ARENA! What a disgrace!

J.R.: Come on, Warrior, it’s time to give these men their due! Don’t you remember last month’s main event?

W.W.: Of course not! The WARRIOR is always looking FORWARD, to the FUTURE. Men who LOOK BACK are cowards, Jim. And goddamnit, I killed the last man who used my name and the word “coward” in the same sentence, although he was actually stating “The last thing Warrior is is a coward!” Regardless, it had to be done.

J.R.: So, doesn’t that imply that you’re going to give them another chance?

W.W.: Although I have no recollection of who these two men are, if I said earlier that these guys were monster faggots that don’t deserve to be within fifty feet of me unless I specifically go into their homes to murder them since their God-hating queers, then I’m sure I had good reason to! Warrior never goes back on what he’s said.

J.R.: Oh, look! It’s Baron Hoity von Toity on the Faggotron!

And as J.R. said, Toity’s shining visage appears on the Faggotron.

“Hello, FTUW fans! I hope you’re enjoying the show as much as I’m enjoying taking what little you own in this world in exchange for admission. As to not disappoint, I’m going to introduce a particularly interesting and VIOLENT stipulation for this upcoming championship bout!” Toity says, tugging at his mustache.

J.R.: A stipulation?! What could it be?

W.W.: Duh, why don’t we wait three seconds and find out?

Suddenly, a giant object covered in a black tarp lowers from the ceiling and is set right against the ring, crushing fans and spraying blood everywhere, yadda yadda yadda.

J.R.: What could that be?!

“It was hard to pick a fitting stipulation for tonight’s match. There’s so many good ones to choose from! Chainsaw ropes, exploding napalm turnbuckles, etc. But as you may be able to deduce from my extravagant lifestyle, I’m a man who WANTS IT ALL. So behold, watch these men as they CRANK MY DICK!”

The tarp is removed to show a giant golden statue of Baron Hoity von Toity, his arms folded across his rippling, muscular frame, with his giant golden dick sticking straight out over the ring, the shaft littered with iron spikes. On his chest are three slots, so it’s now become clear as to what he means.

”It’s a little crude, but I wanted to get the point across that I’d be ‘fucking’ these two men for your enjoyment, fans. Each fighter can pull on the handle, as it were, to begin a spin. The symbols will line up and a new match type will be decided ON THE FLY. Exciting, isn’t it? Well, let’s not wait any longer!”

Lightning: COMING TO THE FIRST, HAILING FROM TOKYO, JAPAN AND WEIGHING 230 POUNDS … KANZAAAAAAKI KEEEEEENJIROOOOO!!

Kanzaki Kenjiro drives a cigarette truck out to the ring and then goes to the back and just starts shoving cartons into his pockets.

Lightning: AND HIS OPPONENT, HAILING FROM ATLANTIC CITY AND WEIGHING IN AT 201 POUNDS … THE FTUW CHAMPION … THE ILLUSIONIST!!

The lights dim and sounds of wind and a woman whispering softly into a microphone and other mysterious sounding things PLAY for a few seconds before EXPLOSIONS GO OFF. Doves rise up into the air as the ILLUSIONIST APPEARS ON STAGE, the shadows from his TOP HAT obscuring his eyes, and GLITTER CASCADES THROUGH OUT THE ARENA.

J.R.: That was … a surprisingly cool entrance.

W.W.: WHAT IS THIS FAGGOT SHIT ON MY SKIN?

Two women in bikinis hook his arms and all three walk to the ring. The Illusionist’s stride is an ARROGANT ONE, a SMIRK plastered across his ASSHOLE FACE. Parting with his LOVELY LADIES, the ILLUSIONIST begins CLIMBING INVISIBLE STAIRS, walking in MID-AIR to get into the ring!

J.R.: A change of attitude from the champion! Usually he has to be DRAGGED to the ring. Maybe the title has inspired some confidence in him!

Up in Hoity von Toity’s zeppelin, one of his many servants approaches him with a covered dish.

“Sir, your roast duck with a rosemary glaze with a thin, edible layer of gold on top of the skin garnished with platinum diamonds and also the bones of the missing link in the evolutionary chain. Will you be needing anything else tonight, sir?” the servant asks.

Toity spears a strip of duck flesh with his emerald fork and brings it to his lips, pausing a moment to think.

“Only … YOUR LIFE!” Toity says before KICKING THE SERVANT out of the WINDOW OF THE ZEPPELIN. The servants falls HUNDREDS of FEET before SLAMMING INTO TOITY’S SLOT MACHINE COCK, CAUSING THE SLOTS TO SPIN.

“LET THE MATCH, BEGIN!” TOITY SHOUTS and the BELL RINGS.

“52 Pick Up!” the ILLUSIONIST SHOUTS, spinning in a circle with DAZZLING FLAIR and firing off a deck’s worth of RAZOR-SHARP CARDS. With one hand in his pocket and a lit cigarette in his mouth, Kenjiro waves his free hand through the air in elaborate patterns, creating patterns that send the cards FLYING BACK.

With a soft chuckle, the ILLUSIONIST uses his IMPOSSIBLE HANDSPEED to COLLECT the cards, SNATCHING them effortlessly out of the air. As he shuffles them playfully, his EXTREMELY POWERFUL sense of touch notices something amiss.

“Forty-Nine, Fifty, Fifty … One?” the ILLUSIONIST says, puzzled as he shuffles through the cards again.

SHINK! Suddenly the card APPEARS from out of the BLINDING RING LIGHTS. Kenjiro purposefully directed that ONE CARD through the lights so the ILLUSIONIST wouldn’t see it!

GRLK! The card jams itself into the ILLUSIONIST’S FOREHEAD, spraying a scant amount of blood into the air. His cards drop from his hands as he stumbles backward.

J.R.: Look, the slots are stopping!

THE SLOTS STOP ONE BY ONE, REVEALING A DIFFERENT PICTURE ON EACH.

J.R.: SLOTS … MADE OUT OF … ACID?

In only a few SECONDS, the RING ROPES ARE SUCKED INTO THE TURNBUCKLES and REPLACED with CLEAR TUBES FILLED WITH HYDROCHLORIC ACID. All while the ILLUSIONIST STUMBLES BACKWARDS, falling and getting TIED UP in the ROPES.

With extreme cool apathy, Kenjiro crouches over and picks up a playing card off the mat.

“Is this … your card?” Kenjiro utters, revealing the JOKER. Quickly, HE HURLS THE RAZOR SHARP CARD and sends it SLICING THROUGH A ROPE, DOUSING THE ILLUSIONIST IN ACID!

“GAYURGAAAAAH!” the ILLUSIONIST WAILS as his SKIN MELTS away and his GUTS FALL OUT onto the mat. The Kenjiro shakes his head and flicks his cigarette away.

J.R.: THE ILLUSIONIST … HE’S DEAD!

W.W.: How many times do you think you’ve said that?

“Do you think that a little acid would be able to defeat the FTUW CHAMPION, the ILLLLLUSIONIST?!” shouts a VOICE. Kenjiro spins around to see the ILLUSIONIST perched on a ring post, his arms folded and looking cool. Kenjiro turns back to what he thought was the ILLUSIONIST and sees the acid melting off his cheap tuxedo to reveal a REFEREE SHIRT underneath!

J.R.: The referee! What a loss.

Ring staff turn a crank and another referee is spit into the ring from a chute, looking confused.

“It’s all in MISDIRECTION, Kanzaki Kenjiro …” the ILLUSIONIST says, SMELLING A ROSE. His eyes SNAP OPEN and he HURLS the throw like a DART at Kenjiro. Kenjiro sidesteps the rose instantly, but just then notices the STRINGS coming from VIC POWERS’ fingers attached to the PLAYING CARDS.

“And I’m the MASTER of MISDIRECTION!” the ILLUSIONIST says, PULLING his HANDS back and sending the playing cards on the MAT towards KENJIRO, SLICING HIM UP.

W.W.: KILL THAT CHINK, VIC!

J.R.: Wait, you’re cheering for ILLUSIONIST now?

W.W.: At least he’s from this country, Jim!

J.R.: Buttfuck Bayou?

W.W.: You know what I mean!

Blood splashes against the mat and Kenjiro loses his footing as the ILLUSIONIST hops down from the turnbuckle.

“Still alive, eh?” the ILLUSIONIST says with a smile. “Let’s change things up a bit.” Shooting streamers from his sleeve, he wraps them around a fan’s throat and HURLS HIM THROUGH THE AIR, slamming him into the SPIKED COCK of the TOITY SLOT MACHINE.

J.R.: That damned ILLUSIONIST! He just killed a fan!

W.W.: Wait, what?

CLINK! CLINK! CLINK! An extreme close-up shot of skin … a building … and a open matchbook.

J.R.: I don’t get it.

W.W.: A POOR HOUSE MATCH!

J.R.: What in the name of saturated fat is a POOR HOUSE MATCH?

W.W.: It’s simple, J.R.! A barrel with attached shoulder straps is LOWERED into the RING and the objective is to make your opponent WEAR IT.

J.R.: That it?

W.W.: Of course not, you fat idiot! It’ll probably EXPLODE or something!

The BARREL with SHOULDER STRAPS is dropped into the RING as the ILLUSIONIST descends off the turnbuckle. The ILLUSIONIST grabs the barrel but finds that his FEMININE MUSCULATURE isn’t enough to lift up the 100 pounds of wood. Kenjiro takes that opportunity to LEAPFROG over the BARREL and deliver a VICIOUS DROPKICK to the ILLUSIONIST’S FACE.

“EEEK!” the ILLUSIONIST says, flying into the ringpost. Without wasting any time, KENJIRO slides across the mat while leaning backwards before RISING UP and NAILING A VICIOUS KICK to ILLUSIONIST’S JAW that sends him flying STRAIGHT UP.

J.R.: 360 DEGREES!

The KENJIRO kicks off the TURNBUCKLE, MEETS ILLUSIONIST IN THE AIR, and SPIKES HIM DOWN with a KICK that SENDS HIM STRAIGHT INTO THE BARREL!

J.R.: HE DID IT! HE’S IN THE BARREL! WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN?

The ILLUSIONIST peeks his head out of the barrel while in a haze, REALIZES he’s in the barrel, and begins to FREAK OUT. After twenty seconds of desperately trying to escape but being too physically weak to get out, it dawns on him that nothing has happened. The ILLUSIONIST gains his cocky demeanor and begins to STRUT AROUND the RING wearing the barrel.

J.R.: That can’t be IT. This is the FTUW!

W.W.: I guess it’s the old school Poor House match finish. Huh, what do ya know.

Suddenly a member of the FTUW staff rolls into the ring, walks up behind the ILLUSIONIST, and opens a panel in the barrel. After fiddling with the circuitry underneath the panel, he leaves the RING and SUDDENLY DOZENS OF DRILLS BURST OUT FROM THE BARREL AND SPRAY FUCKING BLOOD EVERYWHERE!

W.W.: There we go!

J.R.: THE ILLUSIONIST IS DEAD! BAH GAWD! CUT DOWN IN HIS PRIME AND … wait … where’s the REFEREE?!

The ILLUSIONIST was actually standing in the OPPOSITE CORNER while HOLDING A MIRROR, which he then throws at KANZAKI KENJIRO! Kenjiro hits the ground, rolls forward, and goes for a CRESCENT KICK. The ILLUSIONIST surprisingly DUCKS THAT, OPENS HIS MOUTH and SPITS OUT A SWORD. The sword JAMS itself into KENJIRO’S SHOULDER, but KENJIRO SHRUGS it off and SLAMS a FIST into ILLUSIONIST’S CHEST, knocking him back into the corner.

KENJIRO yanks the blade out and TOSSES IT, but the ILLUSIONIST just opens up his COAT and the BLADE VANISHES within it. The ILLUSIONIST then fires FLAMES from his SLEEVES but KENJIRO slides under them, slamming his palms into the mat. And with the OPENING, he BRINGS HIS FIST TO HIS SIDE.

J.R.: HIS FINISHER! THE FEELING OVER!

“You fool! Like a slow technique like that would ever hi- wait a minute. Why can’t I move? IT CAN’T BE!” the ILLUSIONIST SHOUTS as he tries to pull his feet from the MAT.

J.R.: WHEN KENJIRO TOUCHED THE MAT, HE PUT VACUUMS UNDER THE ILLUSIONIST’S FEET!

W.W.: NO! I WAS JUST STARTING TO LIKE THAT LITTLE FAGGOT!

“FEEEEELING …” KENJIRO SAYS, BUILDING POWER INTO HIS FIST. THE ILLUSIONIST COMICALLY TRIES TO PULL HIS FEET FROM THE GROUND WITH NO LUCK. He pulls a SAW from his COAT but thinks otherwise and tosses it away.

“OVAH!!” KENJIRO SAYS, CLOCKING THE EVER LOVING SHIT OF THE ILLUSIONIST. STEAM EXPLODES EVERYWHERE AND THE ILLUSIONIST FLIES INTO THE AIR … SANS HIS SHOES! KENJIRO LOOKS DOWN TO SEE SPRINGS STICKING UP FROM INSIDE THE SOLES!

W.W.: SPRINGS?!

J.R.: HE JUMPED OUT! HE REDUCED THE POWER OF THE BLOW!

Kenjiro LOOKS STUNNED. HIS ATTACK FAILED and now the ILLUSIONIST is TWENTY FEET ABOVE THE RING … AND FLOATING? VIC POWERS’ ASCENT has STOPPED and now he’s SIMPLY HOVERING THERE.

“Y-YOU THINK YOU COULD MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A FOOL, KENJIROOOO?!” the ILLUSIONIST says, his MASCARA mustache running from all the SWEAT, BLOOD, and TEARS. “I’m tired of being a LAUGHINGSTOCK! I’m the CHAMPION, DAMNIT!”

The ILLUSIONIST pulls a handkerchief to wipe his welling up eyes but it continues for about four feet.

“I’LL SHOW YOU TRUE POWER! THIS WHOLE ARENA IS GOING UP IN SMOKE!” the ILLUSIONIST SHOUTS. HIS OPEN HIS COAT and HANDKERCHIEFS BEGIN FLYING OUT IN ALL DIRECTIONS.

”AN ILLUSIONIST’S BINDING WORLD!” he screams as the HANDKERCHIEFS FLY OUT INTO THE AUDIENCE and SNATCH UP FANS. ONE BY ONE the AUDIENCE MEMBERS are YANKED BACK and ATTACHED TO THE ILLUSIONIST, SQUISHING THEMSELVES TOGETHER. FIVE DOZEN HUMANS ARE SLAMMED TOGETHER, FORMING A FLESHY COCOON AROUND THE ILLUSIONIST.

J.R.: THAT MONSTER! How can he just so REMORSELESSLY KILL OUR FANS LIKE THAT?!

A GIANT TOP HAT POPS OUT ON TOP OF THE MAN-BALL AND SUDDENLY EYES, A MOUTH, AND MUSTACHE RISE UP OUT OF THE FLESH.

“I DON’T NEED THE DILETTANTE OR IMHOTEP OR ANYBODY! I’LL DESTROY YOU MYSELF, KENJIRO!” the GRANFALLUSION SHOUTS as it BEGINS CRASHING DOWN ON KENJIRO LIKE A METEOR.

W.W.: THIS IS KIND OF COOL, ACTUALLY.

J.R.: KENJIRO IS DOOMED!

Unable to ESCAPE, KENJIRO JUST LOOKS UP IN DISBELIEF as the WAD OF HUMANITY being SHOT AT HIM. WITH NOTHING LEFT TO DO, HE DOES WHAT HE DOES BEST: PUNCHING.

“ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!” KENJIRO SHOUTS, SLAMMING HIS FISTS INTO THE SOFT FLESH IN A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO PUSH IT BACK.

“SMASH IT UP!” THE ILLUSIONIST MAN-BALL SHOUTS.

WITH HIS ARMS WEAKENING, KENJIRO SWITCHES TO HIS LEGS AND BEGINS KICKING THE SHIT OUT OF SOME TIGHTLY-PACKED FANS.

“ATATATATATATATATA!” KENJIRO SCREAMS but he only MANAGES to GET his leg STUCK IN THE BLOODY MUCK. THE BALL BEGINS CRUSHING KANZAKI KENJIRO AGAINST THE RING MAT.

J.R.: KENJIRO! HE COULD DIE HERE!

“I’ve only got … ONE SHOT!” Kanzaki Kenjiro slams his palm into the BLOATED DEATH BALL before SUCCUMBING TO the MASS OF HUMANITY.

“I KILLED HIM! I KEEP THE BELT!” THE ILLUSIONIST THINKS … UNTIL THE GRANFALLUSION BEGINS TO SHAKE. “WHAT’S GOING OOOON?!”

Kenjiro reaches into his jacket pocket and brings a cigarette to his lips as he’s being crushed into the ring.

“Considering how condensed that ball was, I simply used a powerful vacuum to force large amounts of air into it and formed a seal over the entrance …” Kenjiro mutters.

BOOOOOOOOM! THE CORPSE BALL EXPLODES, SHOWERING THE ARENA WITH BODIES AND BODY PARTS. THE ILLUSIONIST BEGINS FALLING TO THE RING AS ONE CORPSE LANDS ON THE LEVER TO THE STIPULATION SLOTS, SENDING IT ROLLING ONE MORE TIME!

J.R.: THE ATTACK WAS THWARTED AND … THE NEXT STIPULATION IS!

A CAGE. THE LETTER “N”. A COPY OF DANTE’S INFERNO.

J.R.: CELL IN THE HELL!

THE ILLUSIONIST HITS THE RING HARD AS A CAGE DROPS OVER IT AND THE WHOLE THING BEGINS SINKING INTO THE EARTH.

J.R.: They’re going down! Get the cameras on them!

Darkness surrounds the two fighters, the fans in the arena and at home only able to see them via nightvision. The ILLUSIONIST crawls to his feet in a haze, looking around confused before a slow trickle of urine cascades down his inner thigh.

“W-What’s going … on?” the ILLUSIONIST says, his voice quivering.

A light flashes on. It’s Kenjiro’s cigarette lighter as he lights his cigarette. The light snaps off and Kenjiro takes a drag.

“Welcome to hell … Vic Powers …” Kenjiro says.

BOOOOM! The ILLUSIONIST gets ROCKED back by a POWERFUL FIST. POOOOW! A KICK SENDS VIC CRASHING AGAINST THE CELL WALL. BAM BAM BAM! Vic PUKES UP HIS LUNCH PEPPERED WITH BLOOD from the BLOWS THAT COMPACT HIS RIBS.

”H-How can I fight him … if I can’t even see him?!” the ILLUSIONIST says, BLOOD AND TEARS flying through the air. That’s when he notices it. THE TIP OF THE CIGARETTE!

“HYAGH!” the ILLUSIONIST cries out like a weak little girl. HE BRANDISHES a CARD from his SLEEVE and TOSSES IT. Kenjiro’s GRUNT and the SPLASH of WARM BLOOD on his CHEEK TELLS HIM HE GOT A HIT.

CLANG! KENJIRO SLAMS AGAINST THE WALL as the ILLUSIONIST reaches into his coat and WITHDRAWS TWO DOZENS THROWING KNIVES.

“WEEEEEEEEE!” THE ILLUSIONIST SCREAMS, LEANING BACKWARDS IMPOSSIBLY. HE THROWS THE DOZENS OF BLADES AT KENJIRO … but is greeted with the CHILLING SOUND of METAL CLANGING against METAL.

“Your aim is a little off …” Kenjiro’s voice whispers in the ILLUSIONIST’S EAR.

J.R.: I THINK THE ILLUSIONIST IS JUST NOW REALIZING WHAT’S GOING ON!

“W-W-WHAT?!” THE ILLUSIONIST MUTTERS. “BUT YOUR CIGARETTE … IT’S … IT’S …”

“It’s simply sitting on a cell bar in front of us. To think, an FTUW champion could be so dense …” Kenjiro utters.

“URYAAAGH!” THE ILLUSIONIST SCREAMS, SWINGING A SCIMITAR at KENJIRO. KENJIRO DUCKS, KICKS HIM IN THE JAW TO LAUNCH HIM IN THE CEILING, AND THEN EXECUTES A FLURRY OF MACH PUNCHES.

J.R.: ETERNAL LOOOOP!

PULVERIZED, the ILLUSIONIST falls in a bloody heap and hits the MAT. KENJIRO HOOKS THE LEG and GOES FOR THE PIN.

OOOOOOONE!



TWOOOOOO!



THR-WAIT A MINUTE! THERE’S NOT A REFEREE IN THE RING!

J.R.: BAH GAWD, HE’S RIGHT! We didn’t replace the last one that was killed!

W.W.: WELL, WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO NOW?

The EVER WISE Baron Hoity von Toity SOLVES the PROBLEM by KICKING the Korean woman giving him a pedicure out of his zeppelin and onto his GLORIOUS GOLDEN COCK which is DRENCHED WITH BLOOD.

CLINK. CLINK. CLINK. LADDER. LADDER. LADDER.

J.R.: A … LADDER MATCH?

W.W.: IS IT A LADDER MADE OUT OF RAZOR BLADES?

J.R.: I DON’T THINK SO, WARRIOR. It seems like a regular old LADDER MATCH. ANOTHER FTUW FIRST!

A radio RELAYS THE MESSAGE to our superstars and KENJIRO immediately TEARS a whole in the CELL. Leaping on top, he begins CLIMBING UP THE CHAIN SUSPENDING THE CELL. IN LESS THAN A MINUTE HE’S BACK ON THE SURFACE CLIMBING TOWARDS THE BELT HUNG FIFTY FEET ABOVE THE RING.

J.R.: With the ILLUSIONIST nowhere in SIGHT, Kenjiro has this MATCH!

With the BELT ONLY THIRTY FEET AWAY, Kenjiro has completely ignored the 8 foot tall, useless ladder at ringside and is continue climbing the CHAIN.

“Champion …” Kenjiro thinks. “I only came to this federation to bring justice and defeat evil … but, to be champion …”

ONLY TWENTY FEET NOW. IT’S ALMOST IN HIS GRASP.

“It’s … EXCITING!” KENJIRO SMILES.

WOOOOOOSH! OUT OF THE FUCKING HOLE RUSHES THE GODDAMNED ILLUSIONIST SITTING ON A GEYSER OF 1000 WHITE RABBITS!

W.W.: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!

J.R.: BAH GAWD! THE ILLUSIONIST … HE’S BACK!

SEEING VIC APPROACHING, KENJIRO SPRINGS OFF THE CHAIN AND REACHES FOR THE BELT. THE RUSH OF BUNNIES HAVE PUT THE ILLUSIONIST AND KENJIRO NECK AND NECK.

J.R.: ALMOST! ALMOST!

KENJIRO USES A VACUUM TO PULL THE BELT TOWARDS HIM, BUT THE ILLUSIONIST SHOOTS A HANDKERCHIEF.

“THE BELT …” KENJIRO SHOUTS.

“IS MINE!” THE ILLUSIONIST SCREAMS.

AND … AND …

J.R.: HE GOT IT! THE ILLUSIONIST GOT IT!

THE TWO MEN CRASH ONTO THE HILL OF BUNNIES AND SLIDE DOWN TO RINGSIDE. ONCE TOUCHING THE GROUND, THE ILLUSIONIST HAS RETAINED THE TITLE! THE ILLUSIONIST WINS!

W.W.: EH, UH, I GUESS THIS IS … GOOD? NO, FUCK THIS SHIT! THE ILLUSIONIST IS A SHIT-EATING QUEER MONSTER.

Weakly, the bloody mess VIC POWERS raises the belt. As he’s CELEBRATING, KANZAKI KENJIRO.

“K-Kenjiro …” the ILLUSIONIST mutters. Kanzaki, his bill pulled down, OFFERS HIS HAND.

J.R.: A HANDSHAKE!

THE ILLUSIONIST REACHES FORWARD, HIS HAND TREMBLING, BUT PULLS IT BACK AT THE LAST SECOND AND SLICKS BACK HIS HAIR! WHAT A GODDAMNED ASSHOLE!

“I’M THE CHAMPION! GAH GAH GAH!” THE ILLUSIONIST SAYS, HOLDING UP HIS BELT. NO ONE CAN DEFEAT ME!

As he continues to LAUGH HIS ASS OFF, a SHADOW GROWS OVER HIM. THE ILLUSIONIST TURNS AROUND, STILL LAUGHING, TO GET SOCKED IN THE FUCKING FACE.

J.R.: WHAT?!

SPLRRRST! BLOOD SPRAYS FROM HIS FACE AS THE ILLUSIONIST IS HURLED TEN FEET FROM THE BLOW. STANDING ACROSS FROM THERE ARE TWO MEMBERS OF THELDORRIN’S SECRET SOCIETY.

“Ah, the smell of adrenaline … it’s great to BACK,” DARREN DROZDOV SAYS WITH A GRIN.

[Vinny]

The ILLUSIONIST flies against his soft pile of bunnies, the BLOW DELIVERED BY A BOXING GLOVED FIST. Darren Drozdov steps forward and pulls the hood down on his cloak.

“The smell of adrenaline …” Droz INHALES DEEPLY. “It’s great to be BACK!”

J.R.: BAH GAWD! BAH GAWD! THAT’S DARREN DROZDOV … HOW CAN HE EVEN BE WALKING?!

”Come on, don’t be shy,” Droz says, nudging his partner. “Introduce yourself, Alexander.”

Droz’s partner removes his hood.

J.R.: HE’S NOT ALEXANDER. THAT’S “IRON” MIKE TYSON!

W.W.: MIKE TYSON AND DROZ? TALK ABOUT WASHED UP!

J.R.: BUT WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING HERE?

Droz picks up a nearby microphone, bangs on it to test on it, and brings it to his pierced lips.

“We’ve come to deliver a message from the leader of this world,” Droz says. “More like … a warning.”

J.R.: The world’s leader?

W.W.: It seems a lot of things have changed ever since the wall came down! I hope he’s a Christian, at least.

“The FTUW is a sickness, a disease, that strangles the planet and chokes the life from it,” Droz continues. “The FTUW nearly brought the world into an apocalypse once … and if we have to stop them once again, so be it.”

The crowd responds with a CHORUS OF BOOS and begins throwing empty liquor bottles at the two men in the center of the arena, only for the liquor bottles to DROP to the great INSTANTLY once reaching a 1 meter radius around Darren Drozdov.

“All of you are entangled in a cancer, a cancer that grows stronger every day, a cancer that will eventually kill all of you. So that’s why I urge all of you to join our savior.”

J.R.: Savior?

“Go with Theldorrin, and you will be spared,” Drozdov replies.

W.W.: THELDORRIN?! THAT FAGGOT!

J.R.: THELDORRIN! THELDORRIN IS STILL ALIVE?!

W.W.: UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE! THIS DAY IS JUST GETTING SHITTIER AND SHITTIER.

J.R.: I FEEL LIKE I’VE JUST BEEN CLUED IN TO SOMETHING EVERYONE’S KNOWN FOREVER!

As Drozdov drops the microphone, he’s stopped in his tracks by a voice.

“Oy, so that Theldorrin bastard is still alive, eh?” Kenjiro mutters as he’s holding his busted ribs. “I guess there is no God, after all …”

DARREN DROZDOV’S HEAD CRANES BACK AND HE LOCKS EYES WITH THE JAPANESE.

“EH? YOU HAVE A PROBLEM OR SOMETHING?” DROZ SAYS, SMIRKING LIKE A GOON.

“A piece of shit like has no place on this Earth,” Kenjiro smiles.

IN A FLASH, MIKE TYSON DASHES FORWARD PAST DARREN DROZDOV AND HURLS A DYNAMITE PUNCH THAT CAUSES A SMALL SONIC BOOM. KENJIRO BARELY DODGES THE ATTACK, BUT THE POWER PICKS HIM OFF THE GROUND SLIGHTLY.

“S-Shit … if he hit me with that he would have kill-“ Kenjiro thinks but CAN’T EVEN FINISH THAT THOUGHT before MIKE TYSON drives a BODY BLOW INTO HIS GUT. KENJIRO FEELS AS IF HIS ENTIRE TORSO HAS BEEN TORN AWAY FROM HIM.

J.R.: TYSON IS ATTACKING KENJIRO NOW!

W.W.: THINGS ARE LOOKING UP!

“GUOOOH!” KENJIRO VOMITS. TYSON LINES UP THE CHOPPING RIGHT AND KENJIRO WATCHES IN FEAR OF THE VIOLENT NEGRO RAGE EMANATING FROM TYSON. THE RIGHT HITS, NEARLY DECAPITATING KENJIRO, SENDING HIM CRASHING ALONG THE GROUND AS IF HE JUST BEEN EJECTED FROM A CAR GOING 70 MPH.

J.R.: JESUS CHRIST!

TYSON INSTANTAENOUSLY MOVES OVER KENJIRO and GRABS HIM BY HIS COLLAR WITH HIS GLOVE, READY TO PUNCH HIS BRAIN OUT. DROZ IMMEDIATELY APPEARS BEHIND WITH ALMOST EQUAL SUPER SPEED AND RESTRAINS HIM.

“Easy now. We don’t have time to stick around, you know,” Droz says, trying to calm the SAVAGE BEAST. “Those armies will be showing up soon, after all.”

As the two converse, the FAGGOTRON LIGHTS up with TOITY’S GRINNING FACE.

J.R.: TOITY! NOW WHAT’S GOING?!

“It seems like Theldorrin is once again sticking his nose into someone else’s business,” Toity says, spinning his cane. “Destroy the FTUW, you say? You know, I don’t respond well to threats.”

“I want to let you and your master knows that I’m not afraid of him, and sending his lapdogs to rough up my talent isn’t going to change matters. But I know sending only two of your council isn’t a declaration of water. No, it’s just a pompous pissing contest. You came here to make an impact, to surprise us, to give the illusion that you are stronger than you actually are.”

J.R.: Yeah, you tell ‘em, boss!

“This is just a show, a petty display of violence. But two can play at that game, and since violence seems to be like the only thing you understand … well, I HAVE A SPECIAL GUEST OF MY OWN.”

J.R.: SPECIAL GUEST?!

JUST THEN, DARREN DROZDOV AND MIKE TYSON NOTICE THE FIGURE CLAD ENTIRELY IN BLACK STANDING RIGHT BEHIND THEM.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Darren Drozdov utters. Droz and Mike Tyson turn to each other and then back to the MYSTERIOUS FIGURE before CHARGING FORWARD AND UNLEASHING TITANTIC PUNCHES.

WOOOOOSH! THE TWO BLOWS MISS AS THE FIGURE DUCKS THE ATTACK AND COUNTERS WITH A DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!

W.W.: YEAH, FUCK THOSE GUYS!

MIKE TYSON IMMEDIATELY SNAPS BACK TO HIS FEET, WIPES THE BLOOD FROM HIS HUGE LIPS, AND SMILES. “I’m gonna make you scream like my wife,” he says with a CHUCKLE before FIRING OFF AN UNHOLY FLURRY OF PUNCHES. However, the CLOAKED FIGURE DODGES EVERY SINGLE ONE, and COUNTERS WITH A ROCKING GUT PUNCH.

The figure COCKS BACK HIS FIST but SUDDENLY IT DROPS towards the GROUND. The figure is VISIBLY STRUGGLING to LIFT HIS OWN ARM, and as DROZ IS HOLDING OUT HIS PALM the REASON IS APPARENT! DROZ HAS GRAVITY POWERS!

W.W.: THAT ASSHOLE HAS GRAVITY POWERS, TOO?

As the FIGURE is unable to follow up on the attack, he uses his OTHER HAND to REACH into his CLOAK and pull out a .357 MAGNUM. DROZ’S EYES GO WIDE AS HE FIRES, THE BULLET NAILING HIM IN THE FUCKING THROAT.

“GRKKK!” DROZ SAYS as HE STAGGERS AROUND, HOLDING HIS NECK. The CLOAKED FIGURE TOSSES AWAY THE GUN and KICKS TYSON in the STOMACH before NAILING THE FUCKING DIAMOND CUTTER.

J.R.: DIAMOND CUTTER?! WHO IS THIS MAN!

DRAMATICALLY, THE CLOAKED FIGURE DISROBES.

W.W.: OH MY FUCKING GOD, IT CAN’T BE!

J.R.: H-HE’S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!

THE MYSTERIOUS FIGURE IS NONE OTHER THAN THE MOTHERFUCKING ANT KING!!

“YAAAAAAAAAA MOTHER BITCHES!!!” THE ANT KING SCREAMS AS THE CROWD EXPLODES AND HE EMPTIES AN AK-47 CLIP INTO THE AIR.

J.R.: THE ANT KING! THE ANT KING! BAH GAWD I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!

W.W.: AUFLISHFLAKHGLK! DREAMS DO COME TRUEEEEE!!

As DROZDOV and TYSON rise to their fucking feet, THOUSANDS OF ARROWS FALL FROM THE SKY AND BEGIN MURDERING THE AUDIENCE.

J.R.: NOW WHAT?!

USING THE BRIDGES CONNECTED TO THE GIANT RIVER BOAT CASINO, THE ARMIES OF ZEED AND THE CHINESE KOMBO KING HEAD INVADE THE ARENA. THE SOLDIERS BEGIN SLAUGHTERING THE LIVING FANS UNTIL THEY CAN CLASH WITH EACH OTHER.

TYSON DASHES TOWARDS THE ANT KING BUT DROZ GRABS HIM BY THE SHOULDER.

“It’s too late now! We’ll finish this some other time!” Droz shouts. Begrudgingly, Tyson restrains himself and the TWO THEN VANISH IN A FLASH OF LIGHT LIKE NINJAS!

BLOOD SPRAYS INTO THE AIR AS THE MONSTROUS FORCES OF ZEED ENTERS COMBAT WITH THE GOLDEN ARMY OF ZHOU SHI-SHIN. ON A HORSE RIDING A ELEPHANT, ZHOU SHI-SHIN STOMPS OVER COUNTLESS LIVES TOWARDS THE CENTER OF THE ARENA. ZEED, TOO, HEADS TOWARDS THE CENTER OF THE ARENA RIDING ON HIS THRONE.

W.W.: ZEED AND ZHOU-SHI SHIN! THEY’RE GOING TO FIGHT HERE?!

“ZEED!” ZHOU SHI-SHIN SAYS AS HE FUCKING FLIES OFF HIS HORSE, SPINNING LIKE EIGHTY TIMES IN MID-AIR BEFORE LANDING ON THE FLOOR.

“ZHOU!” ZEED SAYS, RISING UP FROM HIS THRONE AND TOWERING OVER ARENA.

THE TWO STAND FACE FACE, ALTHOUGH ZEED’S FACE IS TEN FEET HIGHER THAN ZHOU’S, READY TO END A LIFE LONG FEUD!

“GENTLEMAN! GENTLEMAN! HOLD ON JUST A SECOND,” TOITY SAYS FROM THE FAGGOTRON.

J.R.: TOITY?!

“This is a POOR ARENA for the GREATEST BATTLE the WORLD’S EVER SEEN, don’t you AGREE?” TOITY SAYS. “LET ME OFFER YOU SOMETHING. How about NEXT MONTH we SETTLE THIS FEUD in a SANCTIONED DEATH MATCH, ONE ON ONE between ZHOU SHI-SHIN AND ZEED. It will be held at one of our GRANDEST PAY-PER-VIEWS … ROY JONZE JR. PRESENTS SUPER TABOO TUESDAY!”

J.R.: SUPER TABOO TUESDAY?! NEXT MONTH?!

“AND THAT’S NOT ALL! IT WILL BE HELD AT THE ARENA OF DEATH, THE FLOATING COFFIN OF THE SEVEN SEAS … THE THUNDERDOME!!”

W.W.: THE FUCKING THUNDERDOME?!

J.R.: THE THUNDERDOME?! THE FTUW’S OLD ARENA THAT WAS LOST AT SEA AFTER THE APOCALYPSE?! I HEARD THAT’S A FLOATING VESSEL OF NEVERENDING COMBAT THAT GOES FROM SHORE TO SHORE TO PICK UP FRESH VICTIMS FOR ITS CONTINOUS SLAUGHTER.

W.W.: Yeah, basically.

“IS THIS NOT A BETTER OPTION THAN DUKING IT OUT ON A RIVER BOAT OF ALL THINGS?” SHOUTS TOITY.

The two Divine Fists turn from Toity and to each other, then smile.

“I’ll accept,” Zhou says.

“It sounds like fun!” Zeed says, smiling. “ONE MONTH, THEN.”

A SUPER WIDE GRIN SPLASHES ACROSS TOITY”S FACE AS THE TWO LEADERS SEPARATE AND LEAVE THE RIVER BOAT CASINO, TAKING THEIR ARMIES WITH THEM.

J.R.: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! YOU HEARD IT HERE FOLKS! ZEED VS. THE CHINESE KOMBO KING! IN ONE MONTH AT SUPER TABOO TUESDAY!