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FTUW'S EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005 (#1)

 
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Vinny
[00:10] How can you get an erect dick into your own ass?
Joined: 16 Jan 2007
Posts: 5181
(Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:17 am)
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Post     FTUW'S EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005 (#1)

Written by SansJason

Location: Madison Square Garden, New York City
Date: Sunday, November 13, 2005
Commentators: Jim Ross and Tony Schiavone
Event: FTUW EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005

The lights dim as fireworks begin to go off. The 50,000+ crowd is ELECTRIC!! Our FTUW announcer TODD T. LIGHTNING is in the center of the ring. He speaks with a rich, full voice.

Todd Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen, FTUW proudly thanks you for making its first Pay Per View a sell-out success!!

The crowd pops and applauds for like eight solid minutes.

Todd Lightning: At this time, it is my pleasure to introduce to you all the man that has made this possible. FTUW fans, wrestling fans all around the world, please put your hands together for... Commissioner McHarris!!

The crowd erupts as COMMISSIONER JAMES BROCK MCHARRIS comes down the aisle, smiling and waving to fans. He enters the ring to a standing ovation from the packed Madison Square Garden. Todd Lightning hands him the microphone and stands in respect, joining in the applause.

McHarris: Thank you very much. Todd Lightning, everybody!

The crowd claps appreciatively.

McHarris: It’s been quite a journey to get here, to get all of you in these seats. People said that FTUW couldn’t be done! People said that the athletes you’ll see here tonight were too cynical to compete here tonight! Well I am DAMN proud to say that Ticketmaster says differently! That merchandise sales say differently! That the heart, fire and intensity of every one of our young competitors say differently! And most of all, that the thunderous sound of the applause of all you people DEFINITELY fucking says differently!!

The crowd is in a HYSTERICAL FRENZY OF APPLAUSE.

McHarris: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005!!! Without further adieu, let me get out of here and let’s start this goddamn show!

McHarris exits the ring to the crowd applauding so passionately that thousands of them have broken into tears and many more are hyperventilating.

Jim Ross: I couldn’t have said it any better myself. Thank you, Commissioner McHarris and thank you FTUW fans.

Tony Schiavone: That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

Jim Ross: Hello everyone, I am Jim Ross.

Tony Schiavone: And I’m Tony Schiavone.

Jim Ross: And we thank you for joining us for EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005, live on Pay Per View! Before we go any further we’d just like to say that this show is of course dedicated to the memory of my good friend and one hell of a performer, Eddie Guerrero, who is gone but will never be forgotten. Thank you, Eddie, and we hope you’re watching from Heaven.
Vinny
[00:10] How can you get an erect dick into your own ass?
Joined: 16 Jan 2007
Posts: 5181
(Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:17 am)
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Post     Re: FTUW'S EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005 (#1)

Written by SansJason

The crowd has calmed down and are ready to start the show. Out comes MATTHEW, pale and looking barely able to carry his own eight. His eyes, within their gray, sunken sockets look out to the crowd, unimpressed.

Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Its winner will go on to compete in tonight’s Chariot Race for FTUW World Championship. Making his way to the ring first, from the STREETS OF TEXAS, he weighs in at two hundred pounds, he is... MATTHEEEEWWW!

Scattered applause as Matthew enters the ring and climbs the furthermost turnbuckle to gesture to the audience. Suddenly, OOKA JOOKA runs to the ring out of nowhere! The crowd is immediately all boos, giving Matthew indication that something’s happened, but it’s too late. As Colonel Richardson shouts encouragement, Ooka Jooka nimbly leaps onto Matthew’s back like an ape. Keeping himself on Matthew, Ooka Jooka leans forward and bites into Matthew’s shoulder, rending the ligaments and flesh from his bone and throwing his head back as he swallows it. Matthew screams in abject terror and pain, the scream of a man whose soul is being devoured by an unknown horror. Ooka Jooka jumps down to the canvas, dragging Matthew down with him and applies the HEADSHRINKER!

J.R.: BAH GAWD! BAH GAWD! HE’S GOT ‘IM IN THE HEADSHRINKER!

Schiavone: This is the most brutal thing I think I’ve ever seen!!!

Matthew immediately taps, begging to be freed but to no avail. An FTUW referee tries to get Ooka Jooka to release the hold but Colonel Richardson holds him off. Matthew wails and weeps, his nose is gushing blood as wet streaks of vomit pour forth from his mouth. His cries are incoherent and unheeded. The veins in his forehead are gruesomely apparent. Soon, after what seems like hours of torture, he passes out and lies unconscious on the mat, in a pool of blood, tears, vomit and spittle, which is joined a moment later by his own urine and excrement. Paramedics quickly run out from the back and to the ring, looking at the situation in fear (several amongst them fight back vomiting themselves) and wait for confirmation to enter by Colonel Richardson. He nods and the begin to assemble Matthew’s body on a stretcher while Ooka Jooka wipes Matthew’s blood off of his body and is handed a microphone by the Colonel. He slaps his chest wildly as he speaks, soon taking a crouching position and slapping the mat in a manner reminiscent of Donkey Kong’s Down+B attack.

Ooka Jooka: Ooga booga! Ooga booga! Aw-soo-mus! Ook ook!

Ooka Jooka points a finger upward as the Colonel takes the microphone away and addresses the audience.

Colonel: What my colleague here is saying is that he hopes you all aren’t too disappointed tonight, for you see, your PRECIOUS Handsomus is, as we speak, floating helplessly millions of light years away from this very planet!

The crowd is booing aggressively, agitating Ooka Jooka to the point of slamming his large ham fists about any and all parts of the ring.

Colonel: We’re well aware of your disapproval, folks, but to be honest, we don’t care! With his brute strength and my cunning leadership, Ooka Jooka is the only competitor here in the FTUW worthy of being called indestructible. And when he claims that FTUW title tonight, all the power, glory and salary coming our way will only lead to better and more secure future for the two of us. For I assure you, with my pockets lined with a champion’s wages and Ooka Jooka’s unstoppable African animalism, not only will you all be forced to kneel before this half-man before you and call him champion, but, and this I can personally assure you of, none of you shall ever speak the words Handsomus R. Awesome again!

At the Colonel’s beckoning, he and Ooka Jooka exit the ring to a great round of boos. Dumbfounded, Todd Lightning crawls back in and grabs the mic, checking in with his earpiece.

Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen, it has just been confirmed that Matthew has been rendered unable to compete and this match is awarded by default to EL TIGRE.

Mild applause.
Vinny
[00:10] How can you get an erect dick into your own ass?
Joined: 16 Jan 2007
Posts: 5181
(Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:18 am)
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Post     Re: FTUW'S EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005 (#1)

Written by SansJason

Lightning: The following match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Its winner will go on to compete in tonight’s Chariot Race for FTUW World Championship. Entering first, making his way to the ring from... someplace. He... weighs enough to calculate on a scale... he is... APATHETIIIIIIC ARSSSCCCHHHLOOOOOCH.

With no accompanying music and trailing moments behind his introduction, APATHETIC ARSCHLOCH casually walks into the ring. He half-heartedly twirls a finger in the air to the crowd. With a sardonic expression on his face he limply grabs Todd Lightning’s hand to bring the microphone to his own face.

Arschloch: I’d just like to say that this guy that they’ve brought in for me tonight... just, fucking just boo him.

A few claps come from the audience, along with a scattered cough.

Lightning: And introducing second... from Nagasaki, Japan... he is accompanied to the ring by the NAGASAKI HELLRIDERS, he weighs in at one hundred and sixty-five pounds. He is... the Burning Wolf... RAKKYUUUU SAKEEETUMIIIIIIIII!!!

RAKKYU SAKETUMI, escorted by his lackeys, jumps over the top rope into the ring with great grace, making a satirical martial arts body motion in Arschloch’s direction. He laughs like a teenager then stands up, smiling. The bell rings and the first sanctioned match of the show is on.

Saketumi begins by throwing wild, twirling kicks, moving across the ring, mostly as a taunt to Arschloch, although if one did connect it could be a knockout blow to a lesser man. Arschloch slowly moves around the ropes, unimpressed, only superficially attempting to avoid Saketumi’s kicks.

J.R.: This is something of an International Dream Match, folks. Rakkyu Saketumi is a well-known name in the wrestling, or rather street-fighting, circuit in Japan and FTUW was only able to contract him for this show just last night, which could offer some explanation for Arschloch’s unorthodox behavior that we’re seeing right now, in that he had no idea he would be up against this particular style of fighting.

After throwing over a dozen kicks, Saketumi finally picks up the pace and rolls forward unexpectedly, cornering Arschloch with a smile. Just as he is about to cartwheel himself forward in a kick that could end the match, Arschloch hurriedly ducks out and under the ring ropes, escaping to the outside. Saketumi’s Hellriders begin to assemble around him but he urges them to be still as he waits for Arschloch’s next move.

Arschloch looks and finds himself surrounded by angry chinks. He looks up to the glare of Saketumi and when eye contact is made, the Japanese boy shouts to him “I came to effu tee yuu to fight... America’s numbah wans! You ah who they give-u me! I think... that effu tee yuu... sucks!” The audience behind Arschloch begins to boo, however the wrestler does nothing to defend the promotion’s honor. Instead, he bails out into the crowd and makes his way away from the ring, fans at his side telling him to get back in there and fight. Saketumi grabs the microphone, shouting “I wirr fighting anybody in thissu company! I demand... competition!”

There is a camera in place in the lobby as Arschloch comes through the Section C exit. His face doesn’t show fear, just indifference as he heads into the nearby men’s room.

Saketumi: You ah making... a fooru out of me!

The sound of Arschloch whistling can be heard in the lobby, and it is soon joined by the sound of his urinating. Saketumi is red-faced in anger. Arschloch exits the bathroom then (notably without the sounds of a faucet running) and stops at the popcorn stand and takes his time before deciding on a large, with extra butter. He continues to whistle there. He makes small talk with the popcorn guy, joking with about Pearl Harbor and Hiroshima, before realizing that the city where Saketumi’s from was the second bombing location and finding himself in a fit of deep laughter. The popcorn bagged, he pays and heads back into the arena, scooping handfuls into his mouth.

“It is... aboutu... time-u!” shouts Saketumi, dropping the microphone and going into a fighting stance. Arschloch steps over the final barricade past the audience and is once again encircled by the Hellriders. He offers them popcorn while assessing the situation and half-smiling at Saketumi. He shrugs and tosses the popcorn over his shoulder after taking a final handful to nibble on as he gets back in the ring. Both competitors step away from one another in preparation when suddenly Arschloch hurls the remainder of the popcorn into Saketumi’s face and ducks between his legs to roll him up, putting his own legs on the ropes for leverage on the process. One! Two! Saketumi kicks out and scuttles a few yards away from Arschloch, looking incredibly pissed off. The lackeys outside the ring have drawn an assortment of knives, chains and brass knuckles which had previously been concealed. Arschloch hears the sound of clanking metal behind him and reacts with more indifference, standing up and brushing himself off with one hand. Just then, Saketumi launches into a rapid-fire series of kicks and punches. Arschloch ducks out of the way for a few, then gets caught in the overwhelming barrage. Letting out various sounds of exclamation, Saketumi continues to pound away at Arschloch with Japanese stamina until his opponent’s face begins to bleed and swell. The quick combo ends with a stiff uppercut to Arschloch’s chin, followed by a kick to his midsection that creates a sound that resonates throughout the building. Arschloch takes a few steps back, holding his ribs as Saketumi prepares to charge again, this time running forward with a whirlwind kick. However, Arschloch hurriedly ducks under the first of Saketumi’s feet and gets an arm up to block the second, opening the Japanese boy’s crotch up to a picture-perfect punch to the balls. Upon hitting it, Arschloch hastily gets himself to the other corner of the ring. Saketumi collapses in a heap as his lackeys begin to jump over themselves to get into the ring, grabbing at the ropes and pulling themselves up, none of them making much headway, though.

Arschloch wipes his face and spits. Saketumi lifts himself up, with a fire in his eye. Those who know his Japanese work understand what has just emerged... the Burning Wolf. He kips up and adjusts his crotch. He nods to his lackeys, who each nod to one another in turn. Suddenly, the Ultraman theme begins to play over the speaker system! Saketumi breathes in heavily before shouting “RORRUING...” and running up to Arschloch faster than the speed of light and headbutting him into the corner. He follows up with a series of sick headbutts, then sound of their skulls cracking against each other emanating over the music. The crowd because to get on its feet, cheering and shouting as the Hellriders do so too, sensing the end in sight. Spittle flies from Saketumi’s mouth after around the twentieth headbutt and he shouts “GOOO!!!” straight into Arschloch’s ear, lifting him up in a suplex position. The audience is feeling it as Arschloch rotates into the air above Saketumi who holds him up, backing away from the ropes. However, Saketumi’s arm begins to struggle after a second and he cries out in exasperation. The Hellriders signal to one another to turn the Ultraman theme off as Saketumi desperately tries to keep the sandbagging Arschloch hoisted in the air, but it is futile. Arschloch has absolutely no buoyancy and is impossible to keep up as his body weight begins to demand to fall to one side or another. Arschloch’s knees, intentionally or not, comes cracking down on Saketumi’s face, instantly breaking his nose. They both topple over, Arschloch landing on top as the ref goes down and counts one, two, three, ending it and declaring Arschloch the winner! One by one the lackeys at ringside fall down anime-style, legs in the air, livid over what has happened. Arschloch regains his senses and again studies the situation about him, slinking out of the ring in a less Hellrider-dense spot and exiting to the back. The lackeys all begin to get up and run in the ring to tend to their leader as we cut.

We’re in the Madison Square Garden parking lot, with seemingly nothing happening for a few seconds. However, a spot appears in the distance on the horizon, growing larger and larger at breakneck speed. It soon reveals itself to be a pick-up truck, blaring country music from its rickety stereo speakers. At every pause in the music, the driver inserts the word “Queer!” into the lyrics by shouting it at the top of his lungs. The truck gets closer and closer until the camera man has to duck out of the way, narrowly avoiding being hit and just barely catching the image of the trucking ramming itself through the MSG wall. Its driver has bailed out and reveals himself to be none other than QUEERBASHER!! Chugging a bottle of beer, he wipes it from his face and tosses it into another parked car, hooting at the sound of breaking glass. “Where ‘em faggots at!” he demands as he stumbles over to the wreckage and digs out his trademark metal rod. “Time to bash some skulls!!”


Last edited by Vinny on Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:18 am; edited 1 time in total
Vinny
[00:10] How can you get an erect dick into your own ass?
Joined: 16 Jan 2007
Posts: 5181
(Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:18 am)
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Post     Re: FTUW'S EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005 (#1)

Written by SansJason

Romeo Krystál sits backstage with a cadre of beautiful people around him. “Do we know if Max Rock is even IN the building tonight?!” he asks to the laughter of his associates. “I swear... oh well, I guess I’m up next. Stay here, my lovelies, I won’t be gone but a minute.” He stands and makes his way to the ring, blowing a kiss to the camera as he walks by.

Back in the arena the crowd is pumped after the last match and applauds as Lightning speaks.

Lightning: Our next match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Its winner will go on to compete in tonight’s Chariot Race for FTUW World Championship. Entering first, from Los Angeles, California, he weighs in at two hundred and ten pounds, he is... MAAAAAAX ROCK!!!

Max Rock comes down the ramp riding a red Harley-Davidson. He flings his short hair, drenches with sweat, upwards as he pauses for glamour shots, then continues to ride. However, he seems to be going too fast and finds himself unable to stop properly! His bike hits the ring itself, sending him in a reverse tope through the ring ropes, flying into the opposite set of ropes, which he bounces off of with no small amount of momentum, colliding backwards with the canvas, knocking himself out. Todd Lightning stifles a small laugh as the crowd has no idea how to react.

Lightning: And entering second, his opponent. He weighs in at one hundred and eighty pounds with parts unknown. He is... ROMEOOOO KRYSSSSSTÁÁÁÁÁÁL!!!!

Romeo walks through the curtain with grace, his arms outstretched to his adoring public. The crowd boos him incessantly as he smiles with pride. He gives several twirls as he walks to ringside, where he makes a motion to alert the tech guy to drop several thousand rose petals down into the arena. He picks one in mid-fall and kisses it, bringing it with him into the ring and then blowing it softly into Todd Lightning’s face with a wink. Several members of the ring crew hurriedly clear away the petals as Romeo flips his hair out with a “La!” and removes his crystal necklaces, bracelets and rings.

Max Rock begins to regain to consciousness and pulls himself up with the ropes, trying to get his bearings about him. Romeo smiles and walks over to him, extending his hand in friendliness. Max takes it and they shake for a moment, before Romeo brings Rock’s hand to his mouth to place a kiss on his knuckles. Doing so, he smiles and winks at Rock, letting their hands go free. As the moment ends, Romeo instantly snaps into a death gaze and bitterly slaps Max Rock across the face, a sick, thin sound made. Rock drops to mat again. “That’s for forcing me to lay my hands on such an ugly specimen as yourself,” Romeo says before lifting Rock’s legs upwards and giving him a deft stomp to the genitals. “And THAT’S for not answering any of my taunts, you peasant!” Max crumpled up in pain, Romeo steps back into his own corner and implores to referee to pat him down for foreign objects, raising his leg to give access to his crotch.

As the bell rings, Rock pulls himself up again only to be met by a running forearm from Romeo, who follows up with several quick chops to the chest. Max powers out and forces Romeo into the corner, throwing several punches at his chin. However, the punches barely connect and Rock is clearly stomping the mat to make them sound far louder than they are. Seeing this Romeo knees him in the gut, forcing his upper body downward. Romeo gives him a kiss on the back of the head before throwing him likewise into the corner with several more knees to Rock, including jumping ones to his face, knocking his skull back and forth like a man taking blows from a prize fighter. Romeo spits in his own hand and slaps Rock across the face once more. Rock snaps out of it and pushes him off, trying to catch his breath. Romeo twirls on his way down, landing in a model’s pose on the canvas and running the tip of his forefinger across some of Apathetic Arschloch’s remaining blood stains. Rock lightly hits himself in the face a few times, clearly for show as after each strike he looks to the audience for confirmation that he is a tough guy.

When Rock takes a few more steps towards the center of the ring, Romeo, still lying in a dormant Venus pose, sweeps his legs out from under him and covers him for a one count. Both men getting to their feet, Romeo kicks Rock in the head twice before nailing a third dropkick, bringing them both to the floor again. This time, Romeo wraps his arms around the head of Rock and shouts at him to tap out. Rock slaps the mat in an attempt to Hulk up, sending a few blind chops and punches to Romeo, who lets him up and taunts him to his feet. He goes to kick him in the leg but Rock moves away just in time, sending a roaring elbow to Romeo’s face, making him stagger back. Rock runs forward excitedly and tries for a clothesline but it is reversed into a crossface by Romeo at lightning speed. Romeo again implores Rock to tap out. “If you want a place to slap your fingers, I’ve got one right here” Romeo shouts as he gives several grounded crotch-thrusts. Rock screams in pain and raises his hand, almost tapping before extending it and making it to the ropes. Romeo hops off of him, stomping him in the back a few times before fixing his own robe and again taunting him to stand up. Rock does so, woozily, looking as if he were so disoriented that he could vomit. Romeo launches himself at him with a great forearm, then spins around to Irish Whip him into the opposite corner. However, the referee is in the way and gets hit by the large body of Rock as both crack heads and go down! Romeo lets out a high-pitched scream of annoyance and goes to pick Rock back up again when suddenly, QUEERBASHER jumps out from UNDERNEATH THE RING!! He jumps between the ropes, shouting madly “Queeeeeeeeer!!!!!” It’s all Romeo can do to duck out of the way of Queerbasher’s metal rod, incidentally throwing the sluggish Rock into his place. The rod and Rock’s head collide with brutal force, one breaking the other obscenely open.

J.R.: THE QUEERINATOR! HE HIT THE QUEERINATOR ON MAX ROCK!!!

Schiavone: J.R. I think it’s safe to say that this is most vicious thing you or I have ever seen in our lifetimes!

Queerbasher halts and looks at Rock’s spliced forehead in slack-jawed horror before Romeo quickly clips his knee out and kicks him out of the ring. Slapping the ref in the face to make him come to, Romeo hooks Rock’s leg as the count of one! Two! Three! Rings through the air! Romeo wins and another shower of rose petals fall, however he is too busy high-tailing it out of there for fear of Queerbasher getting up and coming after him to appreciate the beauty of the scene. As paramedics arrive to take Rock away on a stretcher, Queerbasher helps himself up and grabs his rod, haphazardly asking the medical staff “Any o’ y’all queers?” on his way out.
Vinny
[00:10] How can you get an erect dick into your own ass?
Joined: 16 Jan 2007
Posts: 5181
(Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:19 am)
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Post     Re: FTUW'S EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005 (#1)

Written by SansJason

The sound of planes can be heard overhead as MOHAMMAD JAFFER BIN ABDUL DESTRUCTION comes out. The crowd takes a look at his clothes and skin color and immediately begins to boo and hiss at him with great fervor. He shouts with passion and points to the sky as he enters the ring.

Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen, our next match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Its winner will go on to compete for FTUW title later in tonight’s Battle Royal Chariot Race. Entering the ring at this time, coming from Jihadistan and weighing in at ninety kilograms, he is the All-Mighty... Non-Forgiving... Non-Merciful... MOHAMMAD JAFFER BIN ABDUL DEEEESSSSTRUCTIOOOOOON!!!!!

BITMASK enters to obligatory applause as he pulls his glasses down to flash his eyes to both sides of the audience. He climbs the ropes with long, awkward steps.

Lightning: And coming in second, making his way to the ring from Redmond, Washington. He ways in at one hundred and fifteen pounds... BIIIIITMAAAAASSSSSK!!!

J.R. Here we have an interesting match-up, possibly one of the most emotionally heated match-ups on this card. You look at these two men and you see a terrorist and a man who has come face to face with terrorists in the past. I cannot wait to see what happens in this next match.

Schiavone: Can you feel the chills, J.R.? Can you FEEL the CHILLS?

As each man takes a corner, Abdul Destruction falls to his knees in praise of Allah. Feeling the audience’s rage, Bitmask runs forward and throws a wild knee at Destruction’s head, which is deftly blocked as the terrorist gets to his feet and attempts to punch Bitmask in the face, which is blocked and countered by a punch to the face from Bitmask, which hits glancingly on Destruction’s chin, knocking him into the corner. Bitmask throws a combo of punches to Destruction’s gut, ending with a haymaker to his mouth. Destruction pushes Bitmask away and walks to the other side of the ring, clutching the ropes to sustain him as he rubs his jaw. Bitmask, undeterred, runs again towards Destruction and clips his knee out, quickly going for a cover afterward and getting only a one count. Before Destruction can get to his feet, Bitmask is already up and stomping away at his opponent, only pausing whenever he feels his glasses begin to slide off of his face. As the onslaught continues, Destruction finally grabs a leg of Bitmask and throws him face first into the ropes. Bitmask grabs the top rope as he falls into it and looks annoyed as Destruction hops to his feet and goes for a shoulder block, but is countered as Bitmask sees it coming and ducks, lifting Destruction up and over the ropes as he comes to him, tossing him to the floor.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Destruction shouts “Infidel!” as he stands, kicking the audience barricade in anger. But Bitmask hasn’t let the top rope go, and as the crowd begins to ascertain the situation and applaud approvingly, Bitmask jumps, lifting himself over the top rope and careening into the shocked Destruction with a beautiful Flying Body Press. All the fans in the nearby section are on their feet chanting “Holy shit! Holy shit!” as Bitmask gets up, clutching his ribs but smiling. He spits at the winded Destruction and climbs back into the ring and motions for the ref to begin a count-out count. “You may not be a mathematic genius like me,” Bitmask yells at his still-downed opponent, “but I think even you can count to ten, Abdul!” As the count reaches seven, Bitmask throws his fingers up in time with the ref, smiling proudly in victory. However, Destruction has reached his feet and is making his first steps to the ring. Bitmask tries to keep him outside with some low kicks, but Destruction angrily brushes them aside and is back on the canvas at the count of nine. A frustrated Bitmask immediately ducks down, sending elbows and fists to Destruction’s body before he is able to rise, but Destruction contorts his body backwards to kick Bitmask straight in the head, emitting a strong “Oh!” from the crowd and sending him reeling. Destruction throws his arms outward, chanting a short but loud prayer to Allah as he runs to Bitmask, whipping him into a corner. Destruction soon follows cart wheeling after him to deliver a big knee to Bitmask’s face, shattering the right lens of his glasses. With Bitmask still on the turnbuckles, Destruction falls to his knees and shouts “All praise be to Allah!” before sending over a dozen quick, strong left and right hands to the midsection of Bitmask, then headbutting the same spot, utterly knocking the wind out of him and clearly weakening Bitmask’s abdominals in preparation for the 9/11.

Immediately, Bitmask gains the presence of mind to throw a kick outwards as Destruction is still waist-level, catching him in the bicep. Another kick meets Destruction’s cheek, but he does not waver, as he is now deep in a holy trance. Twice more kicks connect to the sides of his face, another and the strongest yet is a toe kick directly to Destruction’s heart, done with enough force to bruise his surrounding ribs. As Destruction has yet to sell any of these strikes, Bitmask now lifts his feet to middle rope, elevating himself above his opponent. He uses the high ground to jump up and over Destruction; his two feet meet the back of Destruction’s head in a double stomp of all his body weight. Hopping to the floor after that, he quickly dropkicks the back of Destruction’s head, who still refuses to budge. Bitmask signals to the audience and winds up his right foot, preparing to throw a decapitating kick to Destruction’s head when the terrorist suddenly throws himself backward, his back now on the mat and his legs darting upwards like cobras which strike Bitmask’s face in two SICKENINGLY MOMENTOUS toe kicks, the second of which catches Bitmask’s right in the eyeball under the already broken lens, pieces of glass being buried into his cornea and the surrounding areas of face. Bitmask reels backwards in pain and fear as from his position Destruction rests all his weight on his grounded shoulders, then throws himself up and rotates one hundred and eighty degrees in a half-backflip, landing on his feet with his back to Bitmask. He throws a backwards kick which catches Bitmask in the gut, then quickly turns around to hit a very sick roaring forearm to Bitmask’s cheek, red with streaks of blood from the glass. Bitmask continues to stagger backwards, gasping, as Destruction hits a final dropkick to his abs, sending him firmly into the corner. Destruction now retreats to the other corner, climbing the turnbuckles to face and shout to the audience “This... is for the will of Allah!” receiving a triumphant round of boos. He hops off the ropes and bends, extending his arms to mimic a plane. He darts forward, running straight towards Bitmask who, at the last possible second jumps up and over Destruction once more, this time grabbing his available hips and swinging him down in a Sunset Flip roll-up! One! Two! Destruction kicks out, but before he can do more than that Bitmask throws a huge punch with all his strength to Destruction’s chest, once more hitting him in the heart, so hard that the crackling of bone is audible to the men in the ring. Kicking him to his side to create greater distance between Destruction’s body and the turnbuckles, Bitmask hastily climbs to the top rope, where he fixates his broken glasses in front of his weary eyes and does some quick mental calculations, his tongue running over and beneath his bottom lip in thought. Finished, he takes a deep breath and removes his glasses, shutting his eyes tightly (the blood swelling around his right eye is grotesque at this motion) and jumping off the top rope, dropping an elbow directly into Destruction’s heart.

J.R.: BAH GAWD! BAH GAWD! THE TURING TEST, IT’S THE TURING TEST!

Schiavone: I think I felt Abdul Destruction’s heart explode from here!!

Bitmask rolls up both of Destruction’s legs and painfully keeps him like that as the ref counts one! Two! Three! And Bitmask has won! He throws his arms backwards in victory and laughs, almost to the point of tears. Bitmask wipes his face and poses on all four corners of the ring, the fans adulating. Bitmask spits once more on Destruction’s body, mouthing the word “You fail” to him as he leaves. Destruction slowly gets up, grabbing his chest and walks to the back in shame.

J.R.: What a match! Ladies and gentlemen, we now go live backstage where FTUW official Willy Wigham is standing by with Rakkyu Saketumi.

Wigham: Yes, thank you, J.R., I am here with Rakkyu Saketumi. Now, Saketumi-san, you were unfortunately at the end of what some might call an embarrassing loss earlier tonight -

Saketumi: Now you listen to me, Mr. American announcer, Rakkyu Saketumi issu the toughest competitor in Japan today! He was born of the fallout of the first nucleah bombu and has come to... effu... tee... yuu... to be a bombu explosion on your people! He did not come to America to be made laughingustocku by silly man who does not even know how much he weighsu. That is why I am sendingu out an open challenge to any effu tee yuu supahstahllu who wants to find out if he has the biggu American tessu-tickles to defeat the great modernu shinobi of our time-u. If any man, woman or baby want to fight Rakkyu Saketumi, he is openu, any time, any where. Pahking lottu, backstage-u, or effu tee yuu ringu. Saketumi will bring the fight, wirr YOU? We sharr see-u, we sharr see-u. But I will NOTU been made foor of again! Is thattu clearu, Wirry Wighammu?

Willy Wigham gulps as Saketumi and his lackeys crowd around him intimidatingly.

Wigham: Y... yes, sir! Very... very clear! Uh... Back to you, J.R.
Vinny
[00:10] How can you get an erect dick into your own ass?
Joined: 16 Jan 2007
Posts: 5181
(Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:20 am)
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Post     Re: FTUW'S EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005 (#1)

Written by SansJason

To a deep country song, QUEERBASHER comes through the curtain waggling his metal rod about, dragging it behind him as he walks to the ring. He appears to be chewing, but there’s nothing in his mouth. He throws the rod over the top rope before he enters and climbs up a set of turnbuckles to shout to the audience “QUEEEEEEERS!!!” Immediately after doing this, a pained look comes on his face and he darts back down and picks up his rod, which he cradles before climbing the same set of turnbuckles, holding the rod up proudly and shouting once more “QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!!!!”

Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit, the winner of which will go on to compete in tonight’s later Chariot Race. Introducing first from unknown origins, he weighs in at one hundred and one pounds, he is known only... as QUEEEEEEEERBAAAAAASHERRRRRRRR!!!

Queerbasher: QUEEEEEEEEERS!!! (he rips half-heartedly at the neck of his wife beater)

Suddenly, every light in the building goes out in a flash. After a few confused moments, the opening strings of the main theme to GATTACA plays, leading into a TECHNO REMIX of the same. From the entranceway emanates the only light source in the arena, that of THELDORRIN XIII’S cybernetically-enhanced head glowing like a plasma ball you’d buy in the gift shop of a museum, only fifty thousand times stronger. As he walks to the ring, all the electrical equipment he passes gets re-ignited with greater power than it should be capable of running with. When he gets into the ring, the house lights come back on and Todd Lightning’s microphone emits an electronic squeal as it too comes back to life. Lightning coughs uncomfortably and continues.

Lightning: And his opponent, weighing in at six hundred and forty-seven pounds, from Canada, he is... THELDOOOOORRIIIIIIN THIRRRTEEEEEEEEN!!!!!

Lines of plasma shoot out of Theldorrin XIII’s head into the audience, killing several, as the face attached to it remains unblinkingly stoic. Queerbasher looks unhappy and annoyed, gripping his rod and slipping his hands along it to sooth himself. The ref then walks up to him and shouts audibly:

Ref: You know I can’t let you use that thing in this match, right?

Queerbasher: Huh?

Ref: If you attack your opponent with that rod I will call for a DQ. You’ll lose.

Queerbasher: They said I hadda come out an’ wrestle.

Ref: Yes. You. Not you and the rod.

Queerbasher: But... but my rod...

Ref: It’s not allowed.

Queerbasher: My metal rod!

Ref: Hand it over to me –

Queerbasher: Queeeeeeeer!!!!

Queerbasher shoots up and begins to attack the referee with his metal rod, viciously bludgeoning the man as other referees come from the back to restrain him. They all race past Theldorrin XIII who stands utterly still and silent, his arms crossed. Queerbasher, sensing that he’s being ganged up on, immediately ducks under the ropes and runs out through the crowd, shouting “QUEEEERS!!!!” into the night. The referees shout over to Lightning, who gets on the mic.

Lightning: Um, ladies and gentlemen, at this time it has been decided that Queerbasher will not compete in this match. Therefore, your winner, by default is...

VIVA LA RAZA!!! announces the speaker system as EVERY PERSON IN THE AUDIENCE is on their feet!! Theldorrin XIII himself is even taken by surprise as he looks back to see none other than EDDIE GUERRERO in a low-rider, driving his way down the aisle!! “EDDIE! EDDIE! EDDIE!” screams the audience. As he parks, exits and dances into the ring, the excitement in Todd Lightning’s voice is tangible.

Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen, entering the ring at this time, from El Paso, Texas, he weighs in at two hundred and twenty pounds, he is the one... the only... EDDIIIIIEEEEE GUERRRREEEEERRRRROOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

J.R.: Is Eddie Guerrero alive?! What’s going on?!

Schiavone: THIS IS THE CRAZIEST GODDAMN THING I’VE EVER BEEN A PART OF!!

Eddie: Ola, ese! Eddie Guerrero is alive and kickin’, homes! He lies to mortality, he cheats death and he steals every bit of life that he caaaan! And he’s come to FTUW for one reason and one reason only, ese, and that is to spread... his Latiiiiinooo... Heeeeaaaaa –

Theldorrin XIII cuts Eddie off immediately with several knock-out blows to the face. Eddie staggers and coughs up some spittle, but fires back with knife edge chops to Theldorrin’s muscular chest. Seeing that his chops do little good, Eddie looks to the audience and smiles, then goes for Theldorrin’s eyes! Theldorrin reels back and Eddie runs forward, knocking him down with a shoulder block. He runs to the ropes, as Theldorrin starts to get up, hopping over his rising body once then coming back again. He attempts a leapfrog but is caught by Theldorrin, who delivers a DEVASTATING Spine Buster!! Eddie is grounded and pained, but not out; as Theldorrin stands over him, from a laying position Eddie kicks him in the leg, which does little damage, then the shin, which only takes the leg back an inch. Finally, he kicks the knee, dislodging the joint and truly knocking Theldorrin back. Eddie kips up and runs, connecting with a spinning heel kick to Theldorrin’s face. On the ropes now, Theldorrin tries to throw Eddie over to the floor but he lands on the apron and laughs. He throws a high kick to Theldorrin’s head, connecting, then a solid knee to Theldorrin’s midsection. He still no-sells it, but Eddie then hits a one-two combo of stomping Theldorrin’s toes and kneeing him in the groin, which knocks him back, allowing Eddie to jump and hit a picture perfect Springboard Dropkick, knocking Theldorrin down flat! Still riding his physical momentum, Eddie hops up to the top turnbuckle and rattles his shoulders, leaps up and goes for a Frog Splash on the prone Theldorrin! But at the last second, Theldorrin shoots his hand upwards, Eddie’s chest bearing down directly on it, penetrating his body and coming out through his back, Eddie’s STILL-BEATING HEART in Theldorrin’s grip!! Theldorrin has IMPALED EDDIE GUERRERO!!! The half-man, half-machine stands up, and raises his arm, Eddie’s wide-eyed, lifeless body hanging limply at Theldorrin’s shoulder, his heart pistoned up at the audience like a trophy. The fans boo and cry out and do everything in their power to curse Theldorrin XIII as he tightens his grip and CRUSHES Eddie’s heart in the palm of his hand. He lets the body slide off his lowered arm, placing a foot on his opponent’s chest as the horrified ref counts one, two, three. Theldorrin even looks slightly pleased with himself as he wipes his hands theatrically and leaves, but not before grabbing a cameraman and talking over Lightning declaring him the victor.

Theldorrin XIII: Make NO mistake, I am the latest and greatest of the most powerful mind that the Universe has even been privy too. Tonight, just like I wrenched that washed-up old Mexican’s drug-addled heart from his pitiful, fleshy body, I’ll wrench the FTUW title from whichever weak mortal I have to tonight. And if my calculations are correct, and my quest brings me to you, Awesome, I can only hope that even though you’ve assumed human form, you don’t share the pathetic human ability of feeling pain. (He pauses.) Well, maybe I hope you can feel SOME pain, just for fun.

We fade out on Eddie’s body, unable to cheat death any longer...
Vinny
[00:10] How can you get an erect dick into your own ass?
Joined: 16 Jan 2007
Posts: 5181
(Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:20 am)
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Post     Re: FTUW'S EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005 (#1)

Written by SansJason

Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is the final of our Battle Royal Chariot Race Qualifiers. Entering the ring first, from Deepest, Darkest Africa... weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds... OOKAAAAAA JOOOOKAAAAAAAA!!!!!

OOKA JOOKA comes through the ropes, COLONEL RICHARDSON staying at ringside. He takes a cozy, relaxed seat in the corner, content in the knowledge that there has been no word or sign from Handsomus throughout the whole show. He music lessens, compensated by a strong flurry of boos from the crowd, prompting Colonel Richardson to yell at each person sitting first row near him.

J.R.: I am sorry to interrupt these proceedings folks, but we have received some relevant news about one of our athletes.

Schiavone: Is it Handsomus? Is he on his way?

J.R.: No, sadly, I’ve just been told to say that although Matthew, who was attacked by Ooka Jooka earlier this evening, has been put into stable condition, he has suffered severe brain damage and the future of his wrestling career is anything BUT stable at the moment. We extend a heartfelt sense of remorse to his loved ones, but promise FTUW fans that Ooka Jooka’s actions WILL go unpunished.

There are several tense seconds in the ring as Lightning decides to continue.

Lightning: And entering second, weighing in at five hundred pounds and formed from the Heavenly Bodies... he comes to FTUW to blow up assholes and bang chicks... he is... HANDSOMUSSSS RRRRRR. AWWWWWWESOOOOOOOOOOOOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The crowd, confused and hesitant at first, begin to slowly build in an immense roar, a tremendous pop for the prodigal wrestler. This brings the Colonel into the ring, where he roughly grabs the mic away from Lightning.

Colonel: What do you think you’re doing! We all know that Handsomus isn’t here! If you haven’t checked, he’s stuck in outer space, left without his PRECIOUS guitar or any way back to Earth! Hahaha!!

Lightning gulps as the Colonel and Ooka Jooka stare him down

Colonel: And by the way... wasn’t there supposed to be a musical guest performance tonight? Why don’t we bring him out right now to celebrate our victory! Ladies and gentlemen, SUPERSTAR BILLY GRAHAAAM!

BILLY GRAHAM comes out, acoustic guitar strapped around himself, strumming and singing. The crowd boos vehemently. In the back, Queerbasher sits against the side of Madison Square Garden, drinking, stroking his rod and starting to cry as he hums along to the sweet country music from within.

Graham: Thank you very much, Colonel, can I just say what a mighty fine pleasure it is to be here tonight, and to take part in this grand ol’ celebration?

Colonel: Of course you can, Billy. Keep playing, this is your night too. Now as for you, Lightning, take this damn microphone and tell all these idiots that the match has been awarded to my prize fighter, Ooka Jooka!

Lightning takes the mic back and stutters. As he speaks, everyone including himself grows aware of a faint but perceptible sound, growing greater and greater by the second.

Lightning: L... la... ladies and... gentlemen... (he turns once more to the entranceway, praying for Handsomus’ arrival) at this time, FTUW officials are left with the grave, but unfortunately the only, option of declaring this a default victory and advancing Ooka Jooka into the finals. Therefore, the winner of this match, due to his opponent’s entrapment in the astral planes... Ooka... Joo –

The sound has grown to deafening levels, drowning out the last of Lightning’s words before interrupting him entirely as the COMET CARRYING HANDSOMUS R. AWESOME RIPS THROUGH THE ROOF OF MADISON SQUARE GARDEN!!!! Simultaneously, Billy Graham, who is still lightly strumming along on his guitar is snuck up on by VAN HALEN (sans SAMMY HAGAR) and DAVID LEE ROTH!! Van Halen, acting as a unit, grabs his guitar and plays keep-away before throwing it in a nearby trash can while David Lee Roth takes Graham by the throat and BREAKS HIS NECK. The rockers then proceed to play RIGHT NOW as they and everyone else looks up at the comet.

It crashes directly into the ring, scattering all. The crowd is in both petrified horror and complete rapture as many of them spread their arms wide to welcome Handsomus back to Earth. A smoldering crater is all that remains of the ring, the soot-covered faces of the FTUW personnel peer up in awe. Bits of comet have landed in the upper, upper levels of seats, crushing some fans in ecstasy. Ooka Jooka and Colonel Richardson soon regain their composure and grow enraged. At the Colonel’s insistence, Ooka Jooka stumbles down the perimeter of the crater, ready to find Handsomus and rip the not-quite-man’s head clean off. However, when he finishes his plummet downward, standing on the extremely temperate heap of what was once a crater and a million dollar wrestling ring, he finds nothing. He looks up at the Colonel, confused and desperate, “Booga boo?” he asks. The Colonel’s anger increases even more so, as he begins to shout and curse, but then, looks up, and sees a tremendous figure coming forth... the figure of none other than HANDSOMUS R. AWESOME, who lands pristinely in the dead center of the crater, right behind Ooka Jooka. Van Halen and David Lee Roth salute Handsomus and end their ten minute guitar solo. The Colonel is too dumbfounded to tell his wrestler to look out as Handsomus taps Ooka Jooka on the shoulder. When the savage turns around, he is met with a punch to the face that burns with the anger of a thousand stars.

J.R.: Normally, folks, when you see movies about giant comets, they’re treated as a bad thing. People see them and they go, pardon my French, folks, “Oh, Earth is fucked.” But not tonight! (J.R. begins to tear up.) Not tonight, folks! Let it be known that on November thirteenth, two thousand and five, one giant comet carried Earth’s REDEMPTION!

FTUW cameramen hurriedly scuttle to the sides of the crater to catch the action. As Ooka Jooka staggers back in terror, Handsomus adjusts his cowboy hat and raises his face for the first time since returning to the planet, showing a great, big smile on his face that soon turns into a sneer of revenge. Moving faster than the speed of light, Handsomus runs forward and plants another fist on Ooka Jooka’s face, then rapidly runs around him and meets him with a fist to the back. Each punch sounds like an A-Bomb, each creates a brilliant, bedazzling white light, that, in the sullen darkness of the crater, illuminates the scene like magic. Ooka Jooka stumbles one way and then another as Handsomus races around him at all sides, throwing fist after fist to his enemy. Ooka Jooka is vomiting blood, his bones are visibly snapping in twain. The onslaught of what must have been over forty punches only ends when Handsomus jumps up, hovering just above Ooka Jooka’s head like a bird and clasps his hands together, bringing them down atop Ooka Jooka’s skull and driving him further into the crater bottom like a railroad spike. Having done this, Handsomus falls to the ground, laughing a wheezing laugh as he catches his breath, his stamina drained from the ride over. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand and places a cigarette in his mouth and lights it, his anger soothed momentarily. He kneels, placing his fingertips of the rough terrain beneath him. However, he soon feels a rumbling from below and looks up just in time to see Ooka Jooka re-emerge!! His eyes glow a savage red, he froths at the mouth! OOKA JOOKA HAS ASCENDED, HE HAS UNDERGONE AN APOTHEOSIS OF RAW, AFRICAN POWER. GONE IS HIS GRASS SKIRT, HE IS UTTERLY NUDE, AND ALTHOUGH HE NOW FLOATS FIFTEEN FEET IN THE AIR, HIS PENIS TOUCHES THE GROUND. THE BONE IN HIS NOSE HAS EVEN INCREASED IN SIZE DRAMATICALLY. HIS SWEAT-COVERED MUSCLES GLISTEN AND HEAVE AND HE POINTS A FINGER STRAIGHT AT HANDSOMUS, AS IF TO TELL HIM, COME GET SOME. HIS SALIVA-COATED HALF-SMILE IS AS BRIGHT AS A SUPERNOVA.

Handsomus tosses his cigarette down and jumps up, meeting Ooka Jooka in mid-air where they exchange fists far too fast to be seen, but Ooka Jooka is holding his ground, Handsomus’ utter equal. Soon, kicks start being dealt, Handsomus throwing the first and second to Ooka Jooka’s head, the third thrown by Ooka Jooka to Handsomus’ abs, then another to his crotch, which sends him flying backwards. Handsomus regains composure and kicks off the side of the crater, meeting Ooka Jooka back in the center with a flying fist to the face, sending Jooka back in parallel. Handsomus follows him now and grabs his shoulders, throwing him headfirst into the rocky side of the crater. Handsomus pulls Ooka Jooka back, then thrusts him into the craterside again. He tries for a third but Ooka Jooka has his wits about him and twirls himself upward, wrapping his legs around the head of Handsomus and hurricanrana-ing him into the craterside himself! Handsomus is enveloped in the rock and Ooka Jooka flies in after him, his thick, mighty penis trailing behind until it too disappears in the hole in the wall. The two begin to fight, unseen, beneath the Earth, only indicated by the slow build-up underneath the floorboards, like a Bugs Bunny cartoon where the rabbit is tunneling underground. They shoot up half-way through the entrance aisle, punching and kicking one another with all their strength. Ooka Jooka gains an instantaneous upper hand and uses it to crane his head out to Handsomus, his sharp, savage teeth biting into Handsomus’ neck. A once in a lifetime event, Handsomus can be heard to scream in pain as he begins kicking up his knees, sending one after another straight into Jooka’s bent over chest, breaking rib after rib but not forcing Ooka Jooka to relax his jaw. Handsomus cannot bleed, for his veins are of solid iron, but the metallic circulatory system of his throat is in fact visible, as the cameras pick up the glare of it every time Ooka Jooka wrenches his mouth back to expose more of Handsomus’ throatal insides.

Finally, Handsomus places his hands on the sides of Ooka Jooka’s head, his fingers digging underneath the African’s nappy hair and begins to exert all of his strength in an attempt to pop Ooka Jooka’s head like a balloon. Handsomus’ out-of-this-world muscles bulge as much as they possibly can. Resulting in nothing, Handsomus withdraws his hands and quickly removes his gloves, then goes back to the same position. He can feel Ooka Jooka’s skull beginning to give and grits his teeth, enduring the pain at his neck just... a bit... more...

Jooka breaks the hold and kicks Handsomus, sending them both away from each other. Ooka Jooka cradles his head while Handsomus rips off spare bits of torn flesh around his neck that might get in his way or pose as a liability. They both land on opposite sides of the crater’s rim. The Colonel runs over to Ooka Jooka, crying with joy over what has happened.

Colonel: I had no idea you were capable of such tremendous things, my beloved! We are going to be the richest men –

The Colonel is interrupted by Ooka Jooka turning round and throwing a throbbing black arm into his throat, decapitating him, killing him instantly. He looks at the detached head and body of his former mentor with indifference. Handsomus, across the playing field, laughs with pity. Van Halen and David Lee Roth are at his side. “Can we tend to your wounds?” they ask, but he shoos them off. “Handsomus,” they say, “maybe you should take Eddie’s guitar. We know it’s nowhere near the power of yours, but it could be of some help.”

Handsomus: No... I want to do this right. My guitar or nothing. Besides... I’ve underestimated him... he is a great opponent.

Van Halen and Roth sigh and all whisper to him words of encouragement. Handsomus kicks some of the dust off of his legs and brushes his shoulder. He looks into Ooka Jooka’s evil red eyes with an indescribable hatred. He waits.

Ooka Jooka makes the first move, flying back over to Handsomus, who had known exactly that he would do so by watching the movement of his muscles. They meet, three-quarters of the way to Handsomus’ corner, Van Halen ducking about to find safe ground, but Roth standing still, in awe, shouting and cheering for Handsomus along the rest of the arena. Jooka and Handsomus trade knee strikes and head butts, both of their arms wrapped around the other in a vicious collar and elbow tie-up. Ooka Jooka spits at Handsomus, cursing at him in a long-forgotten African tongue. Handsomus only sneers, sending strikes to his opponent with even greater power than before. Both men are slowly descending back towards the crater and when their feet touch ground again the tie-up ceases. Two simultaneous knees are sent forward, knocking both competitors back. Handsomus remains silent as Ooka Jooka continues to curse his name. Silencing for a moment, Ooka Jooka runs at breakneck speed towards Handsomus, aiming to clobber him for good with a knockout punch, but the near-deity sees it coming and ducks, sending an elbow into Ooka Jooka’s side as he passes. Ooka Jooka is shaken, but standing, until Handsomus hits him square in the jaw with a Superkick!! Ooka Jooka is reeling! Handsomus backs up, then runs into him with a shoulder block and you had better believe that every single person in this audience is on their feet and calling for it, motherfucker!! Handsomus grabs the back of Ooka Jooka’s head with his left hand and curls his right into a fist so tight it that his nails cut into the flesh of his palm. With a deep inhalation he UPPERCUTS OOKA JOOKA, sending him no less than FIFTY FEET into the air!! Handsomus bends his legs for a moment then jumps, quickly meeting Ooka Jooka’s flying body. He hugs him, and whispers an inaudible curse as they both continue to fly, reaching far into the sky, past where the ceiling of Madison Square Garden once was and into the clouds, where Handsomus was born.

He spins Ooka Jooka upside down and places his head between his legs. The rotation begins as they fall back down to the planet Earth. They fall and fall and fall as they spin and spin and spin. Handsomus’ hat flies off of his head, trapped by the wind somewhere in Earth’s atmosphere, spittle and blood course through the sky as the two descend to our home world like a punch from God Himself. They hit, momentarily making everyone nearby deaf and blind. But soon the vision returns, as does the sight, and everyone is left holding their breath and waiting for the dust to clear. The smoke settles and there stands Handsomus, over the limp body of Ooka Jooka, reverted to his original state. Handsomus rasps in his call for a referee, who scuttles down the crater in a hurry. Handsomus kneels down and puts his hands on Ooka Jooka’s chest. The ref counts...

One.

Two.

OOKA JOOKA KICKS OUT!! OOKA JOOKA KICKS OUT!!!! HOW DID HE DO IT!! HOW DID HE DO IT!!!!!!

J.R.: MAH GAWD, BAH GAWD, WHAT THE HELL ARE WE SEEING!!!

Schiavone: WE ARE SEEING, J.R., THE GREATEST MATCH OF THIS OR ANY OTHER UNIVERSE.

Handsomus is bewildered. He drops down and hooks Ooka Jooka’s leg. AGAIN, he KICKS OUT!! From the distance comes the sounds of David Lee Roth, he’s thrown the trash can containing Graham’s guitar into the crater.

Roth: Handsomus! Eddie’s bailed, I can’t get you his guitar, but please, for the future of Earth, use this! We beg you!

Handsomus picks up the acoustic guitar and holds it. He plays a chord and seems visibly pained.

Handsomus: I’m sorry! I can’t!

Just then, Eddie Van Halen comes out of hiding!!

Eddie: Handsomus, here, maybe you can use mine! Please!

Handsomus again tries to play, he gets more music out but falls to his knees once more in agony. “I can’t do this, I just can’t!” he cries!

But then, there is a whirring sound. Scattered fans across the audience, those born with the souls to rock, can hear it. They shout “Handsomus! Handsomus!” and somehow their voices are heard. Handsomus looks up and THERE IT IS. HIS GUITAR!! IT’S FLOWN BACK TO HIM LIKE A BOOMERANG, OF ITS OWN ACCORD! Handsomus smiles, and laughs! He jumps up to get it...

But is met by OOKA JOOKA’S FIST, SAILING STRAIGHT INTO HIS DICK. Handsomus falls to the ground with a whimper as Ooka Jooka continues to sail up, GRABBING THE GUITAR and falls back down, cradling it in his arms. Before Handsomus can react, Ooka Jooka is on his broken feet and smiling a newly-yellowed, crooked smile.

Ooka Jooka: Booga boo boo, booga booga joo! (It’s my guitar now, Handsomus. And to start, I think I’ll play a requiem for my lost Colonel... and for you!)

Ooka Jooka strums on the guitar, producing a single note. His tiny cock ejaculates, and he howls in orgasm. He is far too joyous to wipe the small bit of semen that falls to the ground away. He plays another note, and another, delighting more and more in the sounds of his music. Handsomus can only watch in horror and cover his ears. He prays to anyone who could possibly hear him, let there be a miracle. Let there be a miracle...

Suddenly, the guitar begins to vibrate. It glows to a red hot, then to an even more fiery white! Ooka Jooka screams, no longer in ecstasy, but in pain! He tries desperately to get the vile guitar off of him, but it is too late! The guitar knows that it has been used for EVIL and must extract its revenge!! OOKA JOOKA’S HANDS IGNITE IN FLAME, WHICH SOON ENGLUFS THE LENGTH OF HIS ARMS. THE GUITAR DROPS TO THE GROUND AS OOKA JOOKA SCREAMS, ROLLING ABOUT. Handsomus calmly picks it up, holds it like a lost lover and closes his eyes.

Handsomus: I’d advise anybody who doesn’t feel like dying tonight to cover their ears...

The surrounding FTUW officials take his warning seriously, as do the boys in the back. Van Halen and David Lee Roth follow suit, and so does the audience. Most of the audience, for there are a few here and there who realize now that this is truly the only way to go. They stick their heads forward, their loved ones powerless to stop them, and wait for the music to play.

Ooka Jooka somehow gets to his feet, the fire is extinguished but he is left armless... and unable to cover his ears!! As Handsomus plays, the notes of a million cosmoses fill his head... Ooka Jooka screams, he desperately tries to maneuver his own feet to the sides of his face. He digs his head into the ground, but it is no use. He swallows and stands up, looking at Handsomus, watching him play, and he begins to cry. As he does so, his head swells, like a balloon, and he cries out once more in that African tongue and then is no more. His head has popped, his brain matter splattered about the crater, some landing on Handsomus himself, who continues playing. The members of the audience who chose to listen soon pay the price, but their heads all give way with smiles still on their faces. When Handsomus senses that his task is complete, he stops playing and shouts for everyone to take their hands away once more.

There is a great silence after that. The next person to say anything is Todd T. Lightning.

Lightning: Ahem... ladies and gentlemen, your winner, and the final competitor in tonight’s Chariot Race... HANDSOMUS R. AWESOME.

Handsomus bows but soon realizes that, despite his earlier thought to the contrary... his task is not... quite... complete...[/b]
Vinny
[00:10] How can you get an erect dick into your own ass?
Joined: 16 Jan 2007
Posts: 5181
(Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:21 am)
Reply

Post     Re: FTUW'S EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005 (#1)

Written by SansJason

You thought you had seen it all...

You thought it couldn’t get any bigger...

You thought that we couldn’t possibly top it...

Well, baby, you done thought wrong.

FTUW: INTESTINAL RAPE. COMING SOON. ONLY ON PAY PER VIEW.

Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen it is now time for the Six-Man Battle Royal Chariot Race to determine the first FTUW World Champion. Your competitors are... EL TIGRE... Apathetic Arschloch... Romeo Krystál... Bitmask... Theldorrin XIII... and Handsomus R. Awesome. Each competitor will take a designated chariot and ride on their own track. After each lap, they will be handed a weapon which they can use on their opponents for the remainder of the race. The same weapon will be distributed to each player on a single lap. Competitors are eliminated when either they or their chariot are no longer in working condition. Anything goes.

The six men all meet about their single-horse chariots. They exchange stares, looks of fear and the occasional blown kiss from Krystál. Theldorrin XIII can be seen casting glances back and forth between his opponents and the chariot of Handsomus R. Awesome. After a few long moments, the wrestlers are helped into their cars and take control of the horses. Commissioner James Brock McHarris will drop the flag. He wishes them all the best of luck. The flag drops and they’re off.

For the first few minutes of the race the men try to gain on one another. The first man to complete a lap will be the first to receive a weapon. EL TIGRE surprisingly takes the lead first, growling at his horse. He is quickly joined by Bitmask.

Bitmask: Hey, have you ever thought about the fact that the lighter competitor obviously has the advantage? And I underweigh the smallest man in this race by a good eighty pounds! I’d say I’m pretty much unstoppable!

EL TIGRE beckons his horse to ram into the side of Bitmask’s chariot, and it attempts to do so, but Bitmask is quick enough to move aside without being touched, and in fact takes the lead. EL TIGRE shouts at him as he falls behind and all Bitmask can do is laugh and laugh and laugh.

Apathetic Arschloch trails far behind, easily twenty yards away from the competition. He sips a soda and acts generally apathetic. His horse slows to a trot, then stops altogether. Arschloch doesn’t seem to care as he kicks his feet up and shuts his eyes.

Romeo Krystál has his eyes narrowed on Theldorrin XIII, just ahead of him. “Hut!” he shouts at his horse, wrangling him to the side in order to overtake Theldorrin. Just then, however, THROUGH THE CROWD (killing those who weren’t quick enough to get out of his way), QUEERBASHER is driving his broken down pick-up truck and waving his metal rod! “QUEEEEEEEER!!!!” he screams to a petrified Romeo Krystál, who gasps and quivers as the pick-up truck COLLIDES with his chariot in a FIERY EXPLOSION.

Lightning: At this time comes our first elimination in Romeo Krystál!

Paramedics arrive at the site of the crash and drag out Romeo, clutching his face and screaming “My face! My looks! They’re ruined! You son of a bitch! Oh God!” As Queerbasher is also taken from the wreckage, all he can do is hoot and holler “Wooo! I done killed me a queer today! Woooooo!!!!”

Handsomus is coming up behind EL TIGRE. With his guitar strapped over his shoulder for safe-keeping, he looks resigned. He reaches over and lights a cigar, putting it in his mouth and puffing handlessly. He veers off to the side and begins to ram against EL TIGRE’s chariot. “What the hell!” he shouts, but Handsomus doesn’t answer. Sparks fly as the wheels of both men’s cars grind against each other. EL TIGRE is slowly being pushed against the inside wall of the track! But he fights back, reaching over and SCRATCHING HANDSOMUS WITH HIS CLAWS. Handsomus peels off in shock, but in that moment Theldorrin XIII comes CHARGING through, aiming for where Handsomus’ chariot was but now only hitting the backside of EL TIGRE’s at an angle, causing him to swerve, rotate and ultimately crash into the wall. His screams are overwhelmed by the sound of another FIERY EXPLOSION.

Lightning: Our second elimination has taken place. EL TIGRE is out of the race.

Theldorrin XIII catches up to Handsomus and shouts at him “You know this will only come down to you and me, don’t you?!”

“I don’t know that much about odds,” Handsomus shouts in reply, “but even if does do just that, pretty soon it’ll only come down to just me!”

Theldorrin XIII: You’re confident, Awesome! But my consciousness has already seen the future. I don’t necessarily know that much about odds, either. I do, but I don’t have to in order to know the outcome of this race!

Handsomus: Hey, that’s great. How ‘bout you just focus on driving, there?

Theldorrin XIII: Insolent faggot!

Bitmask is still up front, and says to no one in particular “The lap line! I’m coming up to the lap line! I’m gonna get a weapon!” Just then, there is a jostle on the chariot and MOHAMMAD JAFFER BIN ABDUL DESTRUCTION CRAWLS OUT FROM HIS HIDING PLACE UNDERNEATH IT, BOX CUTTER IN HIS MOUTH. Bitmask shouts “What the fuck is this shit?!” and tries to shake him off, but it is too late. “I claim this chariot and the FTUW title for Allah!!” he screams, grabbing Bitmask’s head and slitting his throat with the cutter. Bitmask loses his bearing and is thrown off of the chariot, commandeered, hijacked, by Destruction. As he passes the first lap, Destruction is handed a MACE. Paramedics tend to Bitmask.

Theldorrin XIII and Handsomus continue to grind one another’s cabs, side by side. As they each pass the first lap, Theldorrin takes his mace but Handsomus waves it off.

Theldorrin: Don’t think you need weapons to win, huh?

Handsomus: You know the future, punk. You tell me.

Theldorrin tries several times to connect a blow to Handsomus’ face with the mace, but the best he can manage is a short, glancing shot on the shoulder. He throws the weapon away in frustration.

Destruction soon reaches the spot where Apathetic Arschloch has stopped. Veering over, Destruction readies his mace and, by the will of his god, hits Arschloch DEAD-ON, lopping the top of his scalp off, scattering pieces of his brain over the track. As paramedics rush to attend to him, he whispers to them, “Don’t worry, I never had much use for my higher cognitive abilities,” and drools a little. Arschloch’s chariot is left standing. The horse whinnies.

Lightning: Our third elimination has come in Apathetic Arschloch. Three competitors remain.

Theldorrin and Handsomus, both bare-handed once more, continue to careen into one another.

Handsomus: You just don’t give up, do you?

Theldorrin: I’ve made a lifetime out of not giving up. Twelve lifetimes, in fact. Like that Guerrero man earlier couldn’t do.

Handsomus: You should watch what you say, kid. Lots of people kind of liked Eddie, myself included.

Theldorrin: Yes, well, so did the Grim Reaper it seems.

Handsomus: Reaper’s gotta come sometime. Can’t always cheat death.

Theldorrin: That’s right. The trick is not to cheat death, merely to outsmart it, as I have.

Handsomus: You got some attitude for man that’s died twelve times already.

Theldorrin: Yes, well, you can tell Theldorrins one through twelve all about it when you see them in Hell later tonight.

Theldorrin XIII makes a mad rush at Handsomus’ chariot once more, and is met with a seated shoulder block from Handsomus, knocking Theldorrin down in his cab. He hastily gets back up, regains control of his horse and shouts “That’s it!” Theldorrin opens the chariot’s glove compartment and points to a remote control inside of it. “You see this?” he asks. “I designed this in my free time between my murder of Guerrero and the race. It’s hotwired to your chariot. Once I push this big, red, button, yours will fall apart. You’ll be helpless, without a horse to carry you and I’ll easily ride my way to victory. I hadn’t wanted it to come to this, Awesome, but you are just so annoying.”

Theldorrin XIII pushes the button and Handsomus feels his chariot begin to shake and grow loose.

Handsomus: What the hell!

Theldorrin: Good-bye, Awesome. Maybe you should have spent the time that you used to gallivant around the cosmos to brush up on physics, or, specifically, the physics of invulnerability to that apply only to me. Oh well, perhaps you will in your next life. Oh wait... I forgot, you only have the one. Hahaha!

Abdul Destruction is still in the lead and coming close to half-way point of the next lap when he spies something that wasn’t there the first time around: the wreckage of Romeo Krystál’s chariot and Queerbasher’s pick-up. Smoldering, burning, fiery, an utter inferno... Destruction’s eyes begin to water and blur... until... until he sees, in the wreckage, only the smoking remains of what were the World Trade Centers. He begins to cry, tears streaming down his olive skin as he finally knows of his God-given destiny. “Allah!” he shouts. “Allaaaaaah!!!

“I’m coming home!!!!!”

Destruction veers into the wreckage, adding to its inferno, laughing and laughing until he could laugh no more. The paramedics rush in, and truly have to struggle for several minutes before they’re able to dig out his body. He’s badly, baldy burnt, his skin charred and unrecognizable, but he is breathing. And smiling.

Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen, Abdul Destruction has crashed Bitmask’s chariot, effectively eliminating them both. Only two riders remain, Theldorrin XIII and Handsomus R. Awesome.

The wheels of Handsomus’ chariot are slowly rolling off. Pieces of decoration being caught in the wind and flung behind him. He’s losing control, one of the reins coming free. He can’t think of any way out... any way to save himself...

No! With no time to spare, and hearing Theldorrin’s laughter yards ahead, he begins taking off his belts and wrapping them around the wheels, buckling them once more! He can do this, he thinks! As the second rein comes loose, he instantly replaces it with a belt. He smiles. He can do this.

Theldorrin XIII passes the second lap. He receives a bow and a quiver of arrows. “What, afraid of sniper rifles?” he complains as he slows. “Very well.” He comes to a complete halt and does an about-face. Squinting his left eye, he opens his right wide enough to reveal that it is mechanical, at his pupil darts about making grimly cybernetic noises. He has perfect vision. He brings the bow and an arrow to his face and waits for Handsomus to come around the bend. He laughs when he sees what the star-man has done. “Good,” he says, “I was worried that the arrows wouldn’t penetrate. Looks like they’ll be of another use.”

Handsomus is rapidly gaining as he turns, coming to the lap line. He spots Theldorrin in the distance. Has he... stopped? Without being able to think any further, his hand is PIERCED by an ARROW. He violently rips it out and continues, before realizing that that was only a taunting shot. The next arrow pierces the belt holding the left wheel. “No!” Handsomus shouts as the wheel makes up for lost time in coming off. The right belt is torn next, then the makeshift reins. Handsomus quickly tries to unlatch more of his belts but it’s no use. Theldorrin cackles in the distance and begins to ride toward Handsomus, a sitting duck.

But then, an angel appears. Below, behind and around Handsomus’ rickety chariot, comes the glorious, transparent upper body of Eddie Guerrero, as large as two chariots. His hands outstretched, he places the wheels back on Handsomus’ chariot. He brings the reins back into his grip. He whispers in a godly voice, “Andale, homes. Arriba! Arriba!”

Handsomus is back in the saddle and going for one... last... ride... he and Theldorrin XIII are on a collision course, both chariots in pristine condition. As Handsomus begins to scream, Theldorrin realizes what’s happened and begins to shoot arrows wildly. Some pierce Handsomus, but they do no good. His scream shatters the moon above Madison Square Garden and the two chariots COLLIDE IN A FIERY DEMISE which Handsomus ejects from, jumping high into the air... but so does Theldorrin!! They exchange punches, Handsomus getting the upper hand as they fall back down to the track, he grabs Theldorrin by the neck and uppercuts him! He catches him in the air!! This is it! INTERGALACTIC GALACTIC DRIVER!!!! THELDORRIN IS OUT!!!!!!!

Lightning: Ladies and gentlemen here is your winner and the FIRST FTUW WORLD CHAMPION, HANDSOMUUUUUSSSS RRRRRR. AWWWWWWWWWESSSSOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THEY CROWD IS ECSTATIC, CRYING, YELLING, SPONTANEOUSLY GIVING BIRTH. THE BELT IS BROUGHT OUT, A GLORIOUS GOLDEN TITLE AND HANDED TO HANDSOMUS BY A KNEELING COMMISSIONER MCHARRIS.

McHarris: Thank you, Handsomus, for making our first event the stuff of legend.

Handsomus takes the belt and looks at it proudly, then lifts it in the air for all to see. The audience is hysterical. “You know... I think I’m decked out in enough belts already...” he says.

McHarris: What... what do you mean?

Handsomus: I mean this belt... is going right here...

Handsomus withdraws his GUITAR AND STRAPS THAT SON OF A BITCH BELT RIGHT ON THAT SHIT, THEN HOLDS UP HIS GUITAR IN TRIUMPH. THE STREETS OF NEW YORK CITY ARE OVERFLOWING WITH JOY!!!

Lightning: FTUW fans, that is our show, we thank you all for coming and hope to see you next time. For Commissioner McHarris and all the FTUW officials and athletes in the back, I am Todd T. Lightning and thank you for making this possible.

As the lights dim and the crowds exit, Handsomus is left alone on the empty track. He looks down at his guitar, a single tear escaping from his eye before he hoists it up over his shoulder once more and looks out into the night with courage and ambition.

He once more sees the ghost of Eddie Guerrero, human-sized again, and give each other a thumbs up.

Handsomus R. Awesome: Thanks.

Eddie Guerrero: No problem, ese. You take care o’ that belt, you gotta lot of good people wantin’ you to keep it, homes. Myself included.

Handsomus smiles and nods as Eddie vanishes. He cracks his neck and walks out into the city streets.





FTUW FANS, THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR JOINING US TONIGHT. WE HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD TIME. WE'LL SEE YOU LATER!
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