TNM's Salute To The Troops, Part 2
Eric Bischoff showed a lot of gumption by declaring war on ECW, but surely his army of current Heat jobbers like Maven and Tyson Tomko is destined to fall against the likes of former Heat jobbers such as Tommy Dreamer and Rhyno. But even the most bitter of rivals can become allies when confronted with a greater evil, and there are those who would not abandon Bischoff's army to stand alone. So it came to pass that Kurt Angle, A Real American Hero, threw his miniature cowboy hat into the ring. It was promptly joined by JBL's much larger one, as these two dangerous dorks vowed to join forces and protect New York City from Paul Heyman's ravenous horde. Mounted atop their stick-horses, the Smackdown troops are charging to RAW's aid. Cue Michael Cole to start screaming about "the calvary."
BRAVO TEAM, MOVE!!!
Real Name: Kurt Angle
Codename: Private Parts
Special Attack: Rubbing up against you on the bus
Favorite Quote: "*slow motion* OHHHHHH YEAAAAAHHHH. OHHHHHH YESSSSSS."
Backstory: Kurt Angle may like freaky sex with donkeys and midgets and whatnot, but he wants his wrestling to be as vanilla as possible. If Marty Jannetty and twenty minutes of restholds are included, so much the better. Angle feels that the only pure form of wrestling involves a missionary-style match between a man and a black man's wife, which is why he cannot abide the deviant perversions of ECW. Kurt loves this country so much that he was willing to grope sweaty Greek men in leotards, and he's not about to let Paul Heyman litter his nice, clean floor with a bunch of bodies. Angle has a history with ECW, as he frequently made the road trip from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia in an attempt to cruise the bingo hall for guttersluts. He'll make you call out "O 69," ladies. Milk and honeys. On one such trip, Kurt was confronted by Tazz, who cruelly mocked that commercial where Angle holds hands and plays ring-around-the-rosy with a bunch of animated pizza toppings. Naturally, Angle burst into tears and ran all the way home to his mother. He would move on with his life after several years of therapy, but revenge was always on his big, bald mind. The announcement of the One Night Stand PPV was what finally set Angle off, causing him to confront Tazz about the lifts he puts in his shoes. He's the Kim Jong-Il of ECW. A scuffle broke out, ultimately leading Kurt to announce his intentions to invade One Night Stand and shout "STOP! Hammerstein!" before breaking into a parachute-pants dance. Angle will be combining his forces with those of Eric Bischoff, an old acquaintance he met while chillin' at the Gold Club with Alan Greenspan and John Vanbiesbrouck during the Atlanta Olympics. Petty brand warfare will be set aside to bring down a common enemy. So watch out, ECW. Angle's holstering his squirt guns and adjusting the chinstrap on his tiny hat as we speak. Kowboy Kurtis shall ride again.
Real Name: John Bradshaw Layfield
Codename: Dollar General
Special Attack: Swelling his head to giant, intimidating proportions like a blowfish
Favorite Quote: "I am too fat for my helmet."
Backstory: JBL is a true American success story. He was once a blue-collar alcoholic who couldn't even afford walls for his office, but all that changed on one fateful night when Bradshaw was sitting around in his underwear scratching himself. Armed with the "clicker," as low-class hillbillies such as himself call it, he chanced upon the business opportunity of a lifetime. "OH MY GOD!" Bradshaw screamed aloud, mesmerized by the seductively shiny coins Joey Styles was offering for sale. Upon hearing that supplies were limited, JBL broke into a mad dash to the telephone, knocking over several of the cows that roamed free in his shitty apartment. Because he'd spent the last of his welfare check on "them poker cards with the nekkid ladies on 'em," JBL was forced to trade Faarooq for a handful of Joey Styles' magic coins. It turned out to be the best decision he ever made. Thinking there might be chocolate inside, JBL attempted to eat his purchase because he is fat. But what did he discover hidden away in the coins' rich, nougaty center? Black gold! Texas New York tea! Oil, that is. It turned out that crazy headdress man Sabu injected his oil reserves into the ECW coins in an attempt to smuggle them out of whatever fucking country he's supposed to be from. So when Bradshaw bit down, it was like that pen-eating scene in Ernest Goes To Jail. Know what I mean, Or-lan-do? Well, the next thing you know, old Brad's a millionaire. The kinfolk said, "Brad, move away from there!" Said "New York City is the place you oughta be," so he packed up his slaves and he moved to Albany. Bradshaw's worth is estimated at 500 million billion dollars, which means that he could afford as many as SIX tickets to One Night Stand! Wow! Fortunately, fabulous wealth didn't turn Bradshaw soft, as he was the first to volunteer when a new threat to the American way of life arose. And so he served meritoriously in the Border Wars, chasing Mexicans around and whomping them with his hat. But Paul Heyman and ECW are a bigger gefilte fish to fry. They've wormed their way into the Big Apple that Bradshaw loves so dearly, threatening all the coffee houses and faggy salons that are so vital to his standard of living. For this reason, JBL made the decision to bankroll Kommander Kurt's invasion, although it's likely that a debonair socialite like himself will get the wrong idea and show up to the Hammerstein Ballroom in a beautiful gown. Indeed, the ECW Crusade is brought to you by the letter C. So when a bunch of tanks with the nekkid ladies painted on 'em come rolling through The Bronx, give Bradshaw a salute. But don't expect him to return it, because his head is very, very swollen. War is hell, which means that JBL will give you the Clothesline From WAR.
Real Name: Orlando Jordan
Codename: The Boxer Rebellion
Special Attack: Raping and pillaging. Sometimes he doesn't even bother with the pillaging!
Favorite Quote: "I am inquiring as to the whereabouts of the white women."
Backstory: As the United States Champion, Orlando Jordan is somewhat fond of the United States. And that's why he agreed to stop being a boxer/fireman or whatever the hell at Boise State when JBL asked him to join the cause and serve his country. As the newly-appointed Chief of Staff, Jordan's primary duty was to rush right over every time Condoleezza Rice placed a booty call. Marky Mark he might be, but all the girls wanna get with him nightly. He's spritely, not whitely, he applies Ninja Chokeouts tightly. I have no idea what I'm doing right now. Everything may have been all fellatious interns and zany haircuts in peacetime, but OJ's run as a fun-lovin' guy who loves to have fun came to a screeching halt when Paul Heyman sent him a copy of Ebony magazine laced with anthrax. Luckily, Heyman confused his anthrax spores with his powdered donut supply and only succeeded in mailing the Chief of Staff a delicious treat, but the message was clear. JBL soon declared war upon the Bulbous Menace, and The Cabinet was honor-bound to follow. Jordan specializes in guerrilla tactics, able to make the lights go out and turn that shit up. A master of terrain, he can camouflage himself to blend in almost anywhere, even including his alma mater's fucked-up blue football field. For the ECW Operation, OJ's orders are to creep unnoticed through the urban jungles (racist) of New York City and lie in wait for Lance Storm, he of the Water On The Knee. Then, when the enemy least expects it, BOOM, SURPRISE SEX!!! It's clear that Orlando has the skills to pay Kobe Bryant's legal bills, but can he keep his raging libido under control? He is so horny that he will love you for an extended period. What happens if OJ ignores all the popular V.D. filmstrips of our time and hooks up with some skank like Francine? Or worse yet, The Widowmaker, Dawn Marie? Because people frequently marry their fathers. "I'll be careful," Orlando has assured embedded reporters such as myself, to which JBL replied "You'll be DEAD!!!" Then Doug Basham's arm got cut off. "Embedded reporters," by the way, refers to reporters who have had sex with Orlando Jordan. For the good of our nation, let us hope that OJ is able to rise above his shortcomings... EM BED!
Real Name: Douglas and Daniel Basham
Codename: Basham and Mahsab
Special Attack: Chanting "DE-FENSE! *clap clap* DE-FENSE! *clap clap*"
Favorite Quote: Never, ever allowed to speak
Backstory: Like those gay-ass twins from G.I. Joe, the Basham Brothers sometimes finish one another's sentences. It's so adorable. Doug will say "C'mon, tap out..." and Danny concludes with "...homey!" Then Bradshaw yells "SHUT THE FUCK UP, MAN, I'M ON THE MUTHAFUKKIN' TELEPHONE!" from the other room because the Bashams are not permitted to say anything. Just eye candy. As joint Secretaries of Defense, the Basham Brothers have the daunting task of fortifying New York City while coping with the ever-present danger of being smoked by RVD. Doug and Danny plan to keep the ECW Army at bay with their brilliant sandbag and tollbooth strategy. Everyone knows that The Sandman is afraid of sand, and it's obvious that Paul Heyman will be unable to pay any tolls because he has no money. Should those measures somehow fail, the Bashams have erected a number of pillow forts around the city. It is in these impregnable strongholds that they stay up late, giggling and talking about boys they like. As a last resort, Doug and Danny plan to fall back to the Arby's War Room and defend it with only their fists, if need be. The Five For Five-Knuckle Shuffle. An additional precaution the Bashams have come up with is the color-coded alert system designed to warn citizens of the ECW threat level. Pay attention, because this may very well save your life on Sunday.
Pink = It's only Stevie Richards - Don't worry about it
Blue = Meanie has been spotted - Hide your porn stars
Black = New Jack attack - Curl into the fetal position and await Gene Snitsky's assistance
Green = Tajiri's spitting all over the place - Cower under a desk
Orange = Tazz is wrecking shit up - Take your own life
The Bashams are currently scrambling to cobble together some sort of anti-ECW cannon that fires bounced checks and bingo chips, but it may not be functional in time for One Night Stand. Come on! Finish it!
Real Name: Carlito Caribbean Cool
Codename: Mr. FIX-IT! FIX-IT!
Special Attack: Eating Gwyneth Paltrow's daughter
Favorite Quote: "Can't you see Carlito is on the toilet?!?"
Backstory: Carlito may look to be in his early twenties, but he's actually 93 years old. His youthful features are just one of the many benefits of living a cool life. Several apples a day keep several doctors away. Carlito has a long history of government service, having spent many decades in the Marine Core (HAHA APPLES). He gathered intelligence for America during the Cold War by sticking eggs in his hair and disguising himself as an inconspicious bird's nest. Carlito thought it should have been called the "Cool War," but nobody ever listens to Carlito. Things took a turn for the worse when Carlito was attached to the invasion forces at the Bay of Pigs With Apples In Their Mouths. He was quickly captured by Fidel Castro, who has a lot of cool beard, that's what he's got. Carlito languished in prison for more than 40 years before the U.S. Government bought his release with a case of Castro GTX motor oil. After a quick stop in Guantanamo Bay for debriefing (FRUIT OF THE LOOM), Carlito was given a fresh pair of government-issue Bermuda shorts and returned to the front lines. With his beloved Big Apple threatened by the ECW Insurrection, Carlito hit the ground running to side with Kurt Angle and JBL. Carlito's special talent lies in his uncanny ability to repair things. Because Puerto Rico is like some crazy Gilligan's Island where all the electronic equipment is cobbled together from coconuts and toothpaste, Carlito has the MacGyver-like skills necessary to jury-rig whatever sort of makeshift device the situation demands. So when Tommy Dreamer gets blown up by a bomb comprised of an Apple I-Pod, a stick of Juicy Fruit, and a strand of cool hair, he'll know who to blame.
Real Name: Matt Morgan
Codename: DONALD RUMS-FELD HAHAHAHAH oh go fuck yourself
Special Attack: Placing his foot atop something in a dashing manner
Favorite Quote: "P-p-p-p-please drink responsibly."
Backstory: Unlike the simply irresistible RAW recruit, Maven, Matt Morgan flunked out of Tough Enough boot camp for being a big dummy. Then he screamed "I GOT N-N-NO PLACE ELSE TO G-G-GO!!!" and started sobbing. Homeless and without access to the speech therapy he so desperately needed, Morgan earned a meager living by reciting tongue twisters on street corners for nickels. But fate smiled upon him one night when he found a ratty old newspaper to use as a blanket. Chancing upon the classified ads, Matt's eye was drawn to one in particular. It read as follows: "I want big back-up and I cannot lie. All you homeless brothers can't deny. Call 1-900-SPITS-A-LOT and shake them nasty thoughts." And so it came to pass that Carlito took Morgan under his wing. Matt was tutored on the subject of the Caribbean and its mysterious ways. Before long, Carlito had taught him all there was to know about the sea. Matt skimmed across the waves on his cool Caribbean catamaran, using his extra-large Hawaiian shirt as a sail while he and his mentor enjoyed a glass of hard apple cider. But another fall from grace was in store for young Matt Morgan, as he soon found himself addicted to the sauce. The apple sauce. Matt hit rock bottom before all was said and done. He was even too drunk to attend to the needs of his pet parrot. The poor bird ultimately became so desperate for a cracker that it flew off in search of John Cena. Only through the efforts of Carlito was the day once again saved, as it was he who arranged the intervention that finally got Morgan back on track. The youngster voluntarily enrolled in Appleholics Anonymous and forced himself to admit that his name is M-M-Matt M-M-Morgan and he has a p-p-p-problem. With his demons exorcised, Morgan was able to go to boating school and get his Captain's license from Mrs. Puff. When Carlito joined the crusade against ECW, Morgan followed suit, rounding up a rough-and-tumble pirate's crew by offering them free airline-sized bottles of rum (Please drink in moderation.) As an interpromotional gesture of goodwill suggested by William Regal, Morgan has joined his fleet to that of Christian. In just a few days, Matt Morgan will show Buh Buh Ray Dudley how to take stuttering TO THE EXTREME. He's gonna f-f-f-f-fuck you up.
HOLD THE LINE!!!
Win or lose, the heroes of RAW and Smackdown are coming from all sides. The battle will be waged by land, air, and sea. ECW has nowhere to run. Only one side can emerge victorious. Those of us left behind on the homestead recognize the sacrifices of our brave troops and vow to build a memorial after they get the absolute shit kicked out of them.
Now you know, and knowing is something something.
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