Hardcore Occult Sports Entertainment: Live on Channel 1 Publick Axxess
“Blasted to Death” by Satan’s Plastic Surgeons, Cloudydale’s resident garage death metal band, begins playing, and with it, come some hardcore visuals. A fireball. Bloody faces. Graveyards. Candles. Knives. Inverted crosses. Then a bunch of guys brawling inside a darkened wrestling ring surrounded by fire. And after 45 seconds of blast beats, speeding guitars and grinding noise, we have darkness.
Then blood red light. We open up in the spacious Cloudydale High School gymnasium. The camera pans the bleachers, which hold about 100 oddly sedate wrestling fans. Many dressed in black, some with painted faces, some with colored hair, such as that dude with the blood red hair. Not one hot chick to be seen. It’s mostly guys. A wrestling ring is set up in front of the bleachers. It has black ropes and the canvas is black.
Two figures get in the ring.
“Hello everyone, and welcome to Haardcore Occult Sporrrts EntertaiiiiiiinMENT!” Styles belts out.
The crowd claps apathetically, or pathetically. Both really.
“I’m Styles.”
The other figure grabs the mic. “And my, my, my….It is I, Sarah, if Satan and I should cross paths, I’ll bend that jobber in two and stick his horns up his ass, for I am the chosen one, I’m here to stay, and you losers are looking at one hot POA you’re never gonna lay…..’The Jobber Slayer.’”
The crowd boos and jeers her: “Satan will rape you. All three inputs! And he’l make more and rape those too!”; “The Ancient Ones will tear your soul apart”; and “God is dead, you will soon join him in Hell!” are among those heard.
Sarah looks around at the angry teenage….whatever they are. “Man, who’da thought I’d be a heel for trashing the devil? Well, then our first guest certainly will be an unpopular figure. Please welcome, all the way from Heaven, Jesus…..Christ!”
Sarah points to the door. All the fans get to their feet. Someone raises a Jesus Was A Crybaby sign.
…
No theme music.
The gym is silent.
…
Then…
“Psyche!” Sarah yells.
The fans boo. Someone throws a rock at her. Sarah instinctively kicks the rock away with her right foot with a graceful spin kick.
“I’ll kick ALL your asses!” Sarah says shaking her fist at the bleachers.
“We’re not here for that,” Styles says taking the mic back. “We’re here for HOSE.”
The fans are still booing Sarah. She flips off the crowd.
“Please welcome, our REAL first guest, the top HO in the business, the Evil Mastermind!”
Lights go out.
It’s dark.
The crowd pulls out lighters. Someone lights up a doobie, trying to get stoned under the cover of evil, Satanic, blackness. Dude.
Lights, the red ones, come back on. Mysteriously, there is a man, er, boy, in the ring. The Evil Mastermind stands there. Not a day over 16. Long black hair, wearing and evil cloak that kind of looks like a raincoat. He has a replica title over his shoulder.
TEM speaketh: “Am I evil?” he says flatly, hailing from Monotone City. “Yes I am.” He pauses. “Am I evil?” He pauses. “I am man.” He pauses. “Yes I am.”
Lights out.
Eventually, when somebody turns on the lights switch, the lights magically come back on.
“Ripping off lyrics is an interview? What the hell?” Sarah asks. “He couldn’t make popcorn pop, forget about wrestling fans.”
[Backstage. (The boys locker room)]
Shot711 has some comments to make about the interview we’ve just heard from TEM.
711: Tonight, I win the title. I’ve been shot 50 times. I’ve had plenty of near death experiences. I’m shot at 7-11. I’m Shot711. And I’m shot 24-7.”
Black.
MESSAGE: Stealing cable is a crime. Especially if it’s to watch this channel. Please, don’t steal cable. Or you’ll pay. One way or another.
Black.
Announcers get face time at ringside.
“Tonight, fans, it’s going to be EXXX, I mean, HARDCORE! In our main event, the HOSE title will be on the line!”
“Yes. Mr. Charisma from the last segment out here will face a guy named Shot711. I’ve heard nothing but bad things about both these guys. If sucking were an Olympic sport, these two would bring home gold. It’s true, it’s true.”
“But now fans-”
“Being a little presumptous there Styles. The whole plural thing.”
“….Let’s head to the ring.”
[An oddly familiar riff plays, just barely audible from a boombox on the gym floor. Then it is butchered, death metal style.
"Ohhhh, I'm a werewolf baybeeee
So why don't you kill meeeee.
Ohh, I'm gonna rip your throat
I'm a werewolf baybeeee
Why don't you kill meeeee]
Is gurgled out. That brings out Barker. Barker is 14.
“Legend has it, he was bitten by a werewolf. Wait till you see the punchline,” Sarah says.
“What’s that?” Styles asks. “Oh my God! You’re not going to!”
“Watch me!”
[Meanwhile, backstage (the girls locker room) Kay Fabe arrives! But since Sarah and Styles don't have monitors, they don't see it. Kay clutches a broomstick. She's decked out in black and it wearing a pointy black hat.
"At last, I belong."]
Back to the gym. There is a pause as a “druid” changes cassette tapes. Yes, they don’t even have a CD player. He presses play, but it’s the wrong song.
“Oh my God!” Styles says. “This is embarrassing!”
“Just knowing I’m going to kick all their asses in the end makes me smile. On the inside of course. Because I really am an emotionless robot,” Sarah says.
Then, the theme from the movie “Poltergeist” begins playing. Complete with an opening “They’re here!” from that dead girl.
“Man, just like the WWF! I’m impressed,” Sarah says. “Catchphrase, theme song, it’s all, crap. How about some originality?”
A gym door opens with a crash, but nobody comes through the open door. Or so it would seem.
“You’re kidding. A poltergeist?”
“The Poltergeist,” Styles corrects.
“What are his stats?”
“Unknown. He’s from the Other Side. That’s all we know about him. Or her. If it even is a he or she.”
“Well, if it doesn’t have the hardware…it very well can’t have sex, or be a sex.”
A buzzer, the kind used at basketball games, sounds three times to signal the start of the match.
“Geez, no Satanic bell tolling? What?”
“Barker, who is in his, well, meager human form, since there is no full moon tonight, begins circling his invisible adversary. This should highlight some very contrasting styles.”
“Oh yeah,” Sarah says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Hey, let’s have some fun.”
Sarah stands up. She picks up a big black piece of cardboard. “Hey Barker!” Sarah turns the cardboard around.
The moon.
The FULL MOON!
Barker howls and collapses to hands and knees. His skinny teenage frame suddenly looks like it has been invaded by steroids. He splits out of his wrestling gear and is naked.
Completely naked.
Sarah continues to hold up the photo of the full moon. But she sits down and actually cracks a smile.
The punchline?
“Barker hasn’t hit puberty yet.”
Barker has NO body hair.
“How ironic.”
“And Poltergeist takes the opportunity to, uh, attack Barker. Barker’s head is going left and right, left and right, as if he’s being punched. And HARD!”
“You said hard,” Sarah says.
“Barker is being pummeled.”
“I can’t belive we can have full frontal nudity in HOSE.”
“It is Public Access.”
“Renamed Pubic Access.”
“Sarah!”
“What?”
“Barker is flipped over.”
“He better hope The Poltergeist isn’t come ci, come ca.”
“But Barker comes back.”
“Man, are you dirty Styles. Come?”
“You said come twice before me! Why are you so dirty tonight?”
“I’m a dirty girl,” she says in a baby voice.
“A headlock! Oh my God!”
“Rest spots? In HOSE! We want blood!”
“Uh oh. Barker just tossed Poltergeist outside.”
“My arms are tired.”
Barker roars. Sarah puts down the moon.
Barker reverts.
Barker looks down at himself. Both hands quickly cover up his shame area.
“And he should be ashamed,” Sarah says. “Do you think all the ladies really believe it’s not the size, but how you use it?”
“That’s not true? Err, oh my GOD! Barker just hit a fan! He’s stealing his pants!”
“Theft and assault? This is hardcore?” Sarah asks.
“Barker has the pants on. OH MY GOD!”
“Zipper! Zipper! Zipper! The zipper has got his head in a world of hurt!”
“Oh, Barker gets himself free,” Styles says.
Barker gets a chair.
“I’m guessing Barker’s zipper had a LOT of bite,” Sarah says.
“Oh, what a shot! Barker just nailed the Poltergeist with a thunderous chair shot. I think. Barker goes back into the ring, triumphant. He holds the chair high. The fans boo.”
“Barker is the face after all,” Sarah says.
The ref starts the count.
6.
6.
6.
6.
6.
“And Poltergeist just gets back in in time and hits Barker with a low blow.”
“What’s up with the sixes?”
“Wrestlers get a 6-count outside.”
“How do you win?”
“A 666, instead of a 123.”
“Wow. Pathetic much?”
“Poltergeist with a rollup! 6….6….No! Small package!”
“No kidding,” Sarah says, no doubt referring to Barker.
“6…..6……6, no!”
Sarah holds up the moon.
Barker changes. Again. He’s naked, again. Barker roars and charges, but then Sarah drops the sign and he realizes he’s naked. Again.
“Poltergeist with a huge….MOVE! Was that a hudanconrana?”
“I wasn’t looking at that. Sorry. I was mesmerized by, something else during that move.”
“Pin! But Barker reverses! 6! 6! 6!!! Barker upsets Poltergeist!”
“How can you tell? Yeah, the ref’s raising his hand, but still….”
[Backstage, Kay Fabe stands over the bodies of Evil Mastermind, Shot711, Dr. Butcher and Satanus the Impaler. All unconscious. Kay drops her broomstick and does the walk. You know the one. The main event shuffle.]
“Golden Showers” by the Mentors begins playing, bringing out a guy NOBODY likes, Urine! He just flat out sucks.
“Man, didn’t this guy get jobbed out of every federation on Hypermart and Angelfire?” Sarah asks.
“He has quite a, shall we say, pathetic history.”
“We shall. And that’s putting it nicely.”
Urine has a mic. He puts it to his mouth and the mic hits his teeth with a thud.
“Even the mic hates Urine!”
The mic falls to the canvas. Urine gets down on his knees and strangles the mic.
“Demon, be gone!”
“The only demon in that mic probably left after smelling his urine breath,” Sarah says.
The fans boo. And chant: “Satan kill Urine! Satan kill Urine! Master take Urine!”
“Shut up, you suck!” Urine yells. “The Ancient Guys won’t take me til I’m done. I steal dead bodies. Then I have sex with them and pee all over them!”
Fans: “Shut up!”
“No, you shut up! I’m great, you suck!”
Fans: “Go to Heaven!” Clap, clap, clapclapclap.
“May Satan have mercy on you!”
The fans boo. A butcher knife flies past Urine’s head.
“OH MY GOD!”
“So close. Damnit!” Sarah says.
“You threw that?”
“I plead the fifth. I need a banana. I’ll be back.”
Sarah leaves to visit the cafeteria. Once out the doors, the doors on the opposite side of the gym crash open.
“What the hell?” Styles yells. “It’s Kay Fabe! Kay Fabe has broken into HOSE!”
Kay walks, zombie-like, to the ring. She clutches a broomstick like a sword. Urine stares at her, paralyzed. Kay gets in the ring.
“Sarah! We need you! Where are you?” Styles asks.
[Cafeteria. Refrigerator. Bananas. She picks one and heads back to the gym.]
Kay bludgeons Urine with a broomstick. Until he’s an unconscious mess. A puddle of smelly wetness forms on the canvas near his crotch. Kay grabs the mic. Then she smells it and drops it. Instead, she decides to talk really loud.
“Styles! Where is Sarah?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t make me come out there.”
The gym door opens.
Kay turns.
Sarah notices Kay is here.
“I’m going to make a bigger mess of you than I did The Poltergeist,” Kay says.
“Why?” Sarah asks, walking to the ring.
“Because I’m nothing to you anymore.”
“Yes you are.”
“What, supporting material?”
Sarah gets in the ring. “Kay, you’re my best friend in the whole world. Ever since we first met way back in high school.
“The power has shifted. Now I’m ‘The Jobber Slayer.’”
“No you’re not.”
Who took out the entire HOSE roster? HOSErs are laying everywhere. At my hands!”
“Big deal. You beat up teenagers. Probably was the thrill of their lives. I’m not going to fight you Kay.”
“Good.” She raises the broomstick.
“I love you Kay. Just remember that as you crack my skull.”
She starts the swing.
And pauses.
Starts the swing.
And stops just short of Sarah’s forehead.
Kay and Sarah stare at each other.
The fans encourage Kay to hit Sarah. “Blood, blood, blood, blood!”
Sarah grabs the stick and softly shoves it aside. Sarah approaches Kay slowly. Sarah takes off Kay’s witch hat and drops it on the canvas. Sarah runs a hand through Kay’s beautiful red hair.
“Oh, my,” Styles says, loosening his tie and trying to unbuckle his belt.
The girls look deep into each others eyes. Their lips inch and inch closer together.
A crash at the gym doors.
“Bloody hell!”
“Little Good! Little Good! Little Good!” Styles belts out. “Oh my God!”
Little Good walks to the ring. He looks at the girls.
“What a happy little scene. My, my, my. I should have known you couldn’t beat up the Slayer. No balls.”
“Well, duh,” Kay says.
“Fine. I’m gonna get you Slayer. Some day. Some way. Well, I’ll be,” he says looking over their heads. Kay and Sarah turn around.
Nothing.
Little Good crashes through the doors.
“Damn. What a little good bastard,” Kay says.
“Well, for Styles, this complete waste of time ends happily. Every HOSEr is hurt and this fed is dead! Good night, and rot in HELL!”