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RAW SATIRE    
Satire: The Next Generation 

May 14, 2008

by Matt Hocking    
Exclusive to OnlineOnslaught.com

 

Somewhere in the ether….

William Regal: Well…we really rogered that rabbit, didn’t we?

Triple H: Yeah, I’m pretty sure this isn’t the Road to Wrestlemania anymore. Guys, who was in charge of the map? How in the hell do we get lost in the space time continuum?!
 

Randy Orton: Yay verify! It was I that was given unto change on the mats!

HHH: Aw for…Where are we then? Show me on the map.

Orton: Forswoon! We art in the jelly tennis bog!

HHH: Randy, that’s a stain from that jelly donut you were eating.

Orton: I see!
 

Regal: And this map is of CANDY LAND!

HHH: Ensign Cena, turn us around! We missed Wrestlemania by a good…two months or so.

John Cena: Why do I have to be an ensign? Everybody knows I’m winning the title at Mania anyway! And hey, I was THE MARINE!

HHH: Yeah? Well, a Marine always follows orders from his superior officer.

Cena: Sir, yes, sir!

Regal: Utterly hopeless.

HHH: Number one!

Regal: Yes?

HHH: Huh? Oh, nothing. I’ve really gotta pee. Why isn’t this couch speeding up? What’s going on down in engineering?

Down in Engineering….

Scott Hall: Have we really let ourselves become so degraded that we’re living underneath Hunter’s couch?

Kevin Nash: Hey! It wasn’t my idea! You were the one who said, “Hey, let’s move down there!” And I said, “Down Where?” and you said-

Hall: DOWN THERE!

Hall and Nash: Hahahahahahaha!

Nash: And then you grabbed all your Fubu shirts and dove under this here couch.

Hall: Yeah, that sounds like something I would do….

HHH: What the hell is going on down here? Why aren’t we flying back to Wrestlemania?

Hall: Oh, don’t worry about it.

Nash: We’ve got our best man on the job.

Festus: ….

Hall: Well, not our best man.

Cena: You know what would cheer everybody up? If I rapped for an hour!

HHH: Wait…If you’re down here, who’s flying the couch?!

On the cushions….

Orton: Course set for Wigglestralia! Maxim on pork! Make some soap, nummers one!

Regal: Aye aye, Captain!

HHH: And just what’s going on here?

Orton: A good old faction manatee!

Regal: He means mutiny.

HHH: I got that. And you’re joining him?

Regal: Seems better than being stuck here with you in charge for God knows how long.

Orton: Elven Cedar! Will you join our martini?

Cena: I love martinis! The drinking CHAMP IS HERE! Mix me up one of thems Apple Dough Martinis!

The Disembodied Voice of the Undertaker: Enough of this!

Orton: TAKERSTER!

Voice of Taker: For five years I warned you all not to mess around with the continuity, not to do or say anything stupid, and most importantly, the number one thing I told you not to do, NEVER EVER travel through time. But did you listen?

Regal: No.

Voice of Taker: No! You found this magic couch, and you just had to see what it does! It goes forwards in time, it goes backwards in time! Look, we’re two weeks from now! Now we’re three weeks ago! Isn’t this fun!? Well, now look at you. You missed Wrestlemania, you killed Ric Flair-

HHH: I told you guys not to let him wander outside the couch without a leash!

Voice of Taker: And now here you are, trapped in the ether outside of existence. Way to go assholes, now even I can’t get you back.

Cena: I knew we shouldn’t have trusted that Network Solutions guy who sold us this thing.

Regal: I’m still not sure why he told us not to feed the couch after midnight. What does a couch eat anyway?

Cena: Other, smaller couches? Like loveseats?

HHH: Makes sense.

Voice of Taker: Doesn’t this bother any of you at all? That you’ve torn apart the fabric of existence?

HHH: Eh. Existence wasn’t really all that great once you got right down to it.

Regal: Yeah, what has space and time done for me anyway?

Cena: Whatever those guys said, I wasn’t listening.

Orton: Guys, there’s a Random Vociferous Licking Pedestrian on Line One.

Rather Officious Looking Penguin: Hello, gentlemen. Come with me if you wan to live.

(Opening Credits)

Last Week: Nothing. Nothing. Ooh, the end of the universe! Will the universe end again…TONIGHT?!

On the couch….

Lillian Garcia: Hello, Commissioner. Or should I say, King Regal?

William Regal: “King” Regal? I quite fancy that, yes. What are you doing here at the end of things anyway?

Lillian: I’m really just a figment of your overactive imagination, your majesty.

Regal: The best I could come up with was Lillian Garcia?

Lillian: Kinda sad, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m here to sing you a song.

Regal: Lay it on me Sunshine!

Lillian:

Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?
Don’t cha? Don’t cha?
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?
Don’t cha? Don’t cha?

Regal: That’s all my head could come up with?! I wish I could behead somebody right now for this insolence!

Alexis Laree: Would you settle for my random cameo brother?

Regal: Yes, quite.

Alex Laree: Hi everybody!

Regal chops off Alex’s head.

Regal: Now…Strip!

Alexis: No.

Regal: Come on, this is my imagination! Back when space and time weren’t broken, you’d strip at the drop of a hat!

Alexis: You’re not wearing a hat.

Regal: Damn you, semantics!

John Cena: That’s not very kosher!

Regal: What are you doing in my dream world?

Cena: I dunno, Trips and that Penguin are trying to fix the couch. I thought I’d come over here and see what’s going on in your delusions.

Regal: I’m the King, apparently.

Cena: Are you a horny, drooling old man or are you going to randomly hand me burgers?

Regal: I’m not quite sure, it’s a feeling out process, yet. Wait…how can you appear in my delusions?

Cena: Such is the fragile state of the universe, I’m afraid.

Lillian:

Informer
You know say daddy me Snow me-a (gonna) blame
A licky boom-boom down
'Tective man he say, say Daddy Me Snow me stab someone down the lane
A licky boom-boom down

(ads)

In Engineering….

Scott Hall: Man, Hunter’s always such a whiny bitch! “Get me a soda!” “Help me move this couch!” “Don’t touch Stephanie’s underwear!” “Carry this penguin’s luggage down stairs!” I could really use a drink.

Rowdy Roddy Piper: That’s the sickness talking!!

Hall: AH! The ghost of alcoholism past! Didn’t we kill you?!

Piper: I’m just another random figment of your imagination. You can’t kill figments.

Hall: I can if I drink enough to kill the brain cells that created them, mang.

Piper: Damn…That’s probably right. Well, I’ve got nothing then.

Santino Marella and Carlito Caribbean Cool vs. Cody Rhodes and Hardcore Holly
For the WWE Tag Team Titles

Hall: Wait, why am I imagining this match?

Piper: Because Santino is a drunk, Carlito stole your gimmick, and Rhodes and Holly are just here to punish you.

Hall: One more win…for the good guys!

Santino isn’t particularly happy to see Piper down at ringside, because, let’s face it, while everybody is genuinely happy to see the guy…nobody actually wants to hang out with him. Even if it is during some other guy’s fantasy wrestling match. Carlito takes the high road and throws an Appledough Martini at Piper and Hall, which Scott somehow manages to catch entirely in his mouth. Using this as a distraction, Cody rolls Santino up for the win. Holly, Cody, Piper, and Hall celebrate in the ring.

(ads)

Elsewhere….

Kevin Nash: Man, you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find someplace to hide underneath a couch.

Ken Kennedy: I don’t actually exist!

Nash: Well…sucks for you. What are you doing here anyway?

Kennedy: I’m going to wrestle so you don’t have to!

Nash: Cool.

Kennedy: COOL!

Ken Kennedy vs. Abe Orton

Nash falls asleep in a pile of quarters as the match gets under way. It’s nice to see Kennedy back after he was torn asunder by the end of the universe. I’m not sure how I feel about the half-assed mustache thing he’s got going on, but I’m not really one to talk about that. I’ve had a half assed goatee for going on 10 years now, and it’s not getting any better. Then again, if I shave it off, I look like I’m 12. So, at least I have an excuse. Orton gets in way too much offense, but it’s not like it matters. Kennedy wins.

Nash: That was a really lame dream.

(ads)

Underneath one of the cushions….

Todd Grisham: I knew this was a terrible idea. Just terrible. Why would I want to travel through space and time with these people? I mean I hate all of them, and I can’t understand their blatant disregard for logic and practicality.

Santino Marella: Are you-a asking me-a?

Grisham: No, you’re just an illusion. I’m talking to myself.

Marella: Well, if-a I’m really-a figment of-a your imagination-a, then by talking-a to me-a, you’re really just-a talking to yourself-a!

Grisham: Agh. Shut up. Stowing away under this cushion is the worst of the billions of mistakes I’ve made in my life.

Marella: Can I-a say a few-a words about-a how much-a I hate Roddy-a the Piper-a?

Grisham: Go get your own fevered dream world, will you?

Marella: Drat-a!

Elsewhere on the couch….

Alexis Laree: So, John, do you want to come out with my headless brother and I?

John Cena: I really don’t feel comfortable leaving the safety of the couch.

Alexis: Aw, come on. We can have sex!

Cena: I’ve had sex with myself just about enough times today, thanks.

Alexis: Ew. Hey…Nice hat!

Cena: Oops, dropped it!

(ads)

Randy Orton: It has becomed mine time to cream a West Wing match!

Melina and Beth Phoenix vs. Maria (nee Punk Tennyson Lund Caribbean Cool Marella) and Alexis Laree

The Disembodied Voice of the Undertaker: That’s the best you could come up with? A women’s match? One prominently featuring Melina and Maria?

Orton: Those gargoyles know three or positively four moves! They’re my eyeballs.

Melina accidentally kicks Beth in the back of the head during their ring entrances. Before Beth can possibly say “OBJECTION!” Maria and Melina take off all their clothes and run around the ring.

Voice of Taker: Ok…I see where you’re going with this!

At this, Beth walks away, and Melina falls over. Orton wins!

Randy Orton: I am the nummers one constructor for the WWE Wombat Chocolate Chip!

Voice of Taker: I hate you.

(ads)

Apparently, 72% of existence doesn’t believe that Shawn Michaels even has knees.

Chris Jericho: I am here to save existence!

Triple H: Like hell you are, that’s what the penguin and I are doing!

Jericho: I’m not actually here anyway. I’m like…part of your subconscious that was shattered by the destrucity of the end of the universe. Or whatever.

HHH: That’s pretty lame that you represent part of my brain at all.

Shawn Michaels: Hey, Hunter. ‘sup?

HHH: Just trying to fix life, the universe, and everything.

Shawn: Yeah, I did that once.

Jericho: So, Shawn, is it true? The thing that absolutely no one is saying about you? That you have no knees?

Shawn: Well, I’m just a random collection of thoughts. I don’t think thoughts have knees, so yeah, I guess it is true.

Jericho: You asshole! You lied to me! You told me that you had knees! You told me Ric Flair wasn’t really dead! You told me that all dogs go to heaven, but now I know that’s not true! Only cute dogs go to heaven! Those ugly mutts get shooed outside the gate by a giant flaming broom! You-

HHH: Shut him up, would you?

SUPERKICK TO JERICHO~!

HHH: Thanks.

Shawn: He’s kind of right about me being an asshole though. Heh.

(ads)

Jeff Hardy:

Existence never stops
That whisper in the wind,
Imagi will provide,
All that ends begins,
Do I really live,
Or am I
2Xtreme?

William Regal: I really miss Alexis now.

Jeff: I’m the ghost of Imagi, come to haunt you!

Regal: I shudder at the thought of your awful poetry, mate.

Jeff: I’m really sorry that I got all those drugs. I probably shouldn’t have dumped them into the volcano and blown up my house, though.

Regal: I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.

Totally Not Jamal: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Regal: Finally, someone I get.

Jeff Hardy vs. Totally Not Jamal

Jeff is wearing a purple body suit, which is quite fetching. Though it kind of makes him look like the white MVP in the long shots. Not Jamal goes for the Thumb to the Eye, but ghosts of Imagi don’t have eyes, so that doesn’t work out too well. I really miss Armando. He would’ve been able to tell Not Jamal not to try that. He misses a charge to the corner, and Jeff does a backflip for the pin. To his credit, Jim Ross successfully calls that move, “Twist of…uh…?” He’s no Mike Adamle, folks!

(ads)

In a far corner of Engineering….

Festus: ….

Cryme Tyme vs. Lance Cade and Trevor Murdoch

I’m still remarkably happy to see Cryme Tyme back. Shad and JTG take control of the match for a little while, mostly beating the crap out of Murdoch and then rolling outside of the ring to steal food from the crowd. This has to be the best job in the world. You work, what, five minutes a night max? And then while you work, you just get to beat up a fat guy and eat somebody else’s popcorn. I mean…That’s what I do on Thursday, but that doesn’t mean that I get paid for it. Murdoch wins with a rollup for some reason.

Lance Cade: Did we actually just win a match? Thanks, Festus!

Festus: ….

Cade: Now, Trevor is going to sing a song!

Trevor Murdoch:

In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear

Cade: OOOH! HEEL TURN!!!

Then, Cade punches Murdoch in the balls. That was…unexpected?

Festus: ….

(ads)

Elsewhere….

Randy Orton: I can’t bleed it! I’m goring to be the gargoyle’s chaplain!

Beth Phoenix: OBJECTION!

Melina: I find this whole situation to be somewhat questionable.

Beth: I find your face to be somewhat questionable!

The Beth kicks Melina right in the vagina. OH HEEL…wait…never mind.

Jillian Hall: I’m entirely shocked and appalled at the goings on of this segment!

Orton: I don’t not even know whom any of you pebbles are.

Todd Grisham: This is bad. Very bad indeed.

Orton: Toddster! I’m so hapless to see you!

Grisham: Likewise, I’m sure. Are we all dead yet?

Orton: No, our faint lies in the Cereal Atkins, Triopoly H, and some kind of pen man.

Grisham: That’s it, this is where I get off.

Todd Grisham leaps off the couch and is lightly pureed by the whirling vortex of nothing. Todd Grisham has fallen.

Orton: DESTINY!

(ads)

John Cena: Man, all this bending of Euclidean space is making me hungry. I could really go for a Lunchable right about now.

Randy Orton: Ah, but Minister Cedar, there is but one Luge Able left, and it is I, Ranky Q. Morgan, Forager Holster of the WWW Chocolate Chip that will be eating of it!

John Cena vs. Randy Orton
For the Last Lunchable on the Couch

A two months old Lunchable? I really hope they have a fridge somewhere in that couch. Orton becomes frustrated when Cena won’t fall over, so he starts pelting John with quarters he found when he was hanging out with Todd Grisham. Not knowing quite how to take this affront to his very existence, Cena charges Randy and tries to toss him off the couch and into the Abyss. Abyss catches Orton and throws him back in. Good thing too, John, or that would’ve been murder. Orton is shocked and appalled at the dangling participle earlier in this paragraph, so he heads down into Engineering while we go to break.

(ads)

After the break, the guys are still fighting while Festus quietly eats the Lunchable in a corner. The Voice of the Undertaker hovers above in silent disappointment.

William Regal: You two dare to have lunch without King Regal present?! I smote thee with an appearance dredged up from my imagination.

John Bradshaw Leyfield: I am here to haunt you until the end of your days!

Randy Orton: JBBQ!

John Cena: NOOoooooooo!

John Cena falls over. Orton wins. After the…uh…match(?), Triple H storms the cushions.

Triple H: I’ll teach you to mutiny!

A cage lowers to prevent any shenanigans, but Triple H still nails the PEDIGREE TO ORTON and tosses Randy’s lifeless body off the couch.

The Rather Officious Looking Penguin: Well…This was an unforeseen set of events.

Next Week: Can John Cena, Triple H, William Regal, The Outsiders, and Festus pilot the couch back into the present and save the universe? What has become of The Body of Orton? And will the sexual tension between the Voice of the Undertaker and the Rather Officious Looking Penguin finally be resolved?!

 
E-MAIL MATT
   
BROWSE THE RAW SATIRE ARCHIVES


  
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