The Adventures Of

SPOOFE And SPOOGE

Episode V

Prologue...

The assassin waited patiently for his shot to come. He peered through the scope of his sniper rifle at his intended target, several hundred meters away. Stone Cold Steve Austin. He was moving around inside the ring too quickly to get a good shot, but the assassin knew that after the match, Stone Cold would begin downing a few beers, and that would provide the perfect shot that was needed.

Who was that Stone Cold was fighting? It looked like a Holly, and fought like one, too. Probably Crash. He was dumber than Hardcore anyway. Stone Cold put Crash Holly into a Stunner, and then it was all over. Crash keeled over like so much comatose meat. Stone Cold gestured for some cans of beer. A ringside assistant tossed a couple into the ring, and Stone Cold opened them up, tossed his head back, and the nasty-tasting alcoholic beverage began pouring into his gullet.

The assassin knew that the time was right for a shot. He placed the targeting crosshair directly over Stone Cold’s forehead.

Just squeeze, the assassin thought to himself. He pulled the trigger.

Right when he did, Crash Holly, unnoticed by everyone, had struggled to his feet and grabbed Steve Austin’s legs. Stone Cold stumbled, and the assassin’s bullet hit his beer can. It exploded and beer sprayed all over the ring. Austin looked at the remains of the beer can in his hand, then noticed Crash trying to perform some sort of wrestling move (but it looked like Crash was humping Stone Cold’s leg). Austin kicked Crash in the gut again and put him into another Stunner. He then took his leave of the ring with his theme music playing.

The assassin cursed to himself, and packed his gun away. He hurried away from the arena as quickly as possible. He vowed that somehow, someday, he’d kill Stone Cold Steve Austin...

Chapter 1

The office door had "Da Main Man, Vince McMahon" written on it, and the two trenchcoated men knew it, but what they didn’t know was why the owner of the WWF had called for their services. (Wow, what an intro for Chapter 1, eh?). An aide let them in and shut the door. The two stepped casually into the office and stood behind the chairs situated near the big desk. They didn’t wait long before another door entered in, and an older man stepped in. He had sharp features, and a burning intensity in his eyes, old enough to have had plenty of experience with the real world but not yet old enough to have become physically stunted.

Vince McMahon gestured for the two to have a seat. "Thank you for coming on such short notice," he said. "It is well known that you two are the best in the field."

Chris Benton, known as Spooge, looked over at his shorter (but far studlier) companion, SPOOFE. "Uh... what field would that be?" Spooge asked, slowly.

"Well, the field of oddities," Vince replied.

Both SPOOFE and Spooge nodded slowly. "Right...." they said together.

"Let me elaborate," Vince continued. "There have been numerous attempts to kill one of the WWF’s most prominent wrestlers as of late, and we need them stopped and soon. Unfortunately, the FBI, police, and even all the private investigators don’t believe us. They think it’s just some big attention-getting scheme that we’re running. So we decided to try you two."

"How did you come to hear about us?" SPOOFE asked.

Vince held up a small bundle of papers. "I’ve read Epidsode IV and thought that it was pretty good work... and funny as hell. And since I’m mainly into entertainment..."

"I see," SPOOFE said.

"What do you want us to do?" Spooge asked. "Who’s in danger?"

Vince leaned forward. "I think you’ve heard of Stone Cold Steve Austin?"

"Of course," SPOOFE replied.

"Well, someone’s trying to kill him," Vince said. "So far, it’s been pretty discreet, and we’ve been able to keep a lid on it, but sooner or later word’s going to leak and then we’ll have a problem on our hands."

"Why?" Spooge asked. "Don’t you think it’d generate a helluva lot of publicity and get you lots of money?"

"No, of course not," Vince said. "If it did, I wouldn’t need to pay you five hundred grand to find out."

Spooge’s jaw dropped. "On second thought, Vince... may I call you Vince?"

"Do I look like you can call me Vince?"

"Uh, no," Spooge said. "Anyway, on second thought, Mr. McMahon, I think that you should keep a lid on this."

SPOOFE nodded. "I heartily agree with my colleague, Mr. McMahon."

Vince grinned at SPOOFE. "Please, call me Vince."

"Hey, wait a minute," Spooge said. "He gets to call you Vince and I don’t?!?"

Vince nodded. "Yep."

Spooge glanced back and forth between the other two for a while, then slumped back in his seat and pouted.

"Anyway, moving on," Vince said, "you two are going to be touted as a new tag-team for the WWF as cover."

SPOOFE raised a hand. "Can I be Hulk Hogan?"

"I wanna be Finkle!" Spooge said.

Vince held up his hands. "No, no, no, you morons. New wrestlers. Pick your own names, and such."

"Oh," SPOOFE said. "Well, I know what my name is gonna be."

"Me too," Spooge said. "I’ll be known as... Spooge! Duh."

SPOOFE grinned. "And I’ll be known as... The Masked Fairy-Ballerina Sissy Boy!" Spooge reached over and smacked SPOOFE in the back of the head. "I mean... SPOOFE."

"Great," Vince said. "Do either of you have an aversion to spandex?"

"Umm... I’m allergic to it," SPOOFE said. "It gives me a horrible rash, and I start coughing, and dry heaving, and then my testicles swell up and start singing Oldies, and my hair turns transparent, and my hands become coated with sweat, and it’s pretty disgusting."

"I’ll bet," Vince said, then turned to Spooge. "What about you?"

Spooge thought for a minute, then said, "I think we’ll be wrestling in casual clothes."

"Ah, yes," Vince said. "Like the Hardy Boys or Mankind."

"Speaking of which," Spooge said, "will we be meeting these wrestlers?"

Vince nodded. "Of course. You’ll all be backstage kickin’ it."

"That’s too damn cool," Spooge said, grinning.

SPOOFE raised a hand. "Um, question," he said. "Will we actually have to wrestle?"

"Oh, yes," Vince said. "Don’t worry, we’ll pit you two up against... oh... the Dudley Boyz, or the Holly’s before we move you on up to one-on-one battles with The Rock or The Big Show."

Spooge and SPOOFE glanced at each other. "We’ll have to find this assassin really quick," Spooge said.

"I dunno," SPOOFE said. "I can take on The Big Show."

"He’s a foot taller than you and more than double your weight."

"So?"

Spooge made a face. "Nevermind then."

Vince cleared his throat. "Any questions?"

Spooge raised a hand, smiling. "Will I get to meet Chyna?"

Vince grinned. "If you want, you can wrestle with her."

Spooge giggled.

"Do we have a deal?" Vince asked.

Spooge was too busy giggling, so SPOOFE said, "Yes you do, Vince. Let’s get to work." SPOOFE dragged a giggling Spooge from the office.

Next Monday night on Raw...

The Hardy Boys were out in the ring with Gangrel, posturing and strutting and all that stuff that normally went on in the WWF. Vince was out there, telling the Hardy Boys who they were scheduled to fight.

"Now, the two newest wrestlers to professional wrestling," he was saying, "SPOOFE and Spooge!"

The two came out from the backstage area with the "Pink Elephants" music playing.

"I should never have let you choose the theme music," SPOOFE said.

"What’s wrong with this music?" Spooge asked, grinning.

"I was expecting you to choose something from Pink Floyd!" SPOOFE wailed. He looked his opponents over. "I thought Vince said we’d be pitted against the Dudley Boyz."

"Or the Holly’s," Spooge added. "Let’s just get this over with."

The new tag-team ambled down the ramp to the ring. SPOOFE was the first one up, so he ran into the ring with Jeff Hardy. Jeff was in the air with a flying jump-kick to SPOOFE’s head instantly. SPOOFE shrugged it off and returned with a clothesline to Jeff’s neck. The red-haired Hardy went down and bounced back up again. SPOOFE knocked him down yet again, then leapt into the air and brought an elbow down on Jeff’s face. Jeff grabbed his face in agony, and SPOOFE took the opportunity to hurl Jeff into the corner. He then turned Jeff over his knee and delivered a nice, solid spanking. Jeff managed to wriggle out of this deadly, but rarely-used, move.

The two wrestled around for a bit before Jeff tagged in Matt Hardy. SPOOFE, unwilling to face a fresh fighter, tagged in Spooge. Matt flung himself at Spooge, who toppled over but immediately sprang back up to his feet. In retaliation, Spooge kicked Matt in the groin, then swung him around in a suplex.

The four of them wrestled around for a few more minutes before Spooge managed to pin Jeff. It was rather interesting how he did it; during the match, SPOOFE was wrestling Matt when Gangrel came into the ring. He had some of that red crap in his mouth and sprayed it into SPOOFE’s face. SPOOFE staggered back and knocked into Matt, who spun out of control and crashed into Jeff on the other side of the ring. Both were knocked cold, but the referee decided that Matt had tagged Jeff in. Jeff, unconscious, fell into the ring. SPOOFE tagged Spooge in, who went for the pin, while SPOOFE grabbed a chair and smashed Gangrel over the head with it.

"And the winners," the announcer said,"... SPOOFE and Spooge!"

The two of them grinned as they strutted back up the ramp, proud, triumphant, and sweaty.

Vince met them backstage.

"What the hell are all these people doing here?!?!?" Vince demanded of the two of them. He gestured around to the small crowd that was setting up equipment backstage.

"This is our team," SPOOFE replied. "Vince McMahon, allow me to introduce you to Kia, our subversion expert; Flip, our propaganda expert; CornHusker, our demolitions expert; Casey, our stealth expert; Katharine, our... umm.... target of sexual innuendos; and Eric, our Head of Intelligence."

"Oh," Vince said. "Well... I suppose you’d need all those skills, then..." He wandered off, shaking his head.

SPOOFE turned towards his group. "Okay, group, let’s see how you all are doing. Kia, how goes the subversion?"

"I’ve got hidden cameras in all the cute wrestlers’ locker rooms. I’ve also started sending Edge love letters."

"Good, good," SPOOFE nodded. "Flip, how goes our propaganda?"

Flip grinned. "I’ve already started spreading my name around the area, using phrases like ‘If you smell what the Flip is cooking’ and ‘Don’t mess with the big Flipowski’. I’ve also made this." He pulled a sock out of his pants with a picture of a weasel on it. "Say hello to Mr. Flippo."

"Excellent work," SPOOFE commented. "CornHusker, how are your demolitions coming along?"

CornHusker stared at SPOOFE for a sec, then muttered "Hail Nebraska" and smashed a nearby crate. He gestured at it and grinned.

"Good job, I’m proud of you," SPOOFE said. "Casey, how about your stealthiness? How’s that coming along?"

Casey held up SPOOFE’s wallet. "I snagged this when you weren’t looking." He handed it back.

"Uh, Casey," SPOOFE said, "I gave this to you to watch for me while I was in the ring."

Casey grinned and held up a twenty dollar bill. "But you didn’t tell me to watch this."

SPOOFE snatched back his money. "Okay, okay... Katharine, how are you doing with your being a target for sexual jokes?"

"I am not a target for sexual jokes!" Katharine cried indignantly.

"Gee, you look sexy when you’re angry," SPOOFE said with a grin. "Wanna sleep with me?"

Katharine just gave SPOOFE a "look". You know, the bad kind.

"I’ll take that as a yes," SPOOFE said. "Anyway, last but not least, Eric, how goes your intelligence evaluation?"

Eric pondered for a moment. "I evaluate that you’re all idiots... except Katharine."

SPOOFE nodded. "Well, thank you, Eric. Anything else?"

"No, not yet," Eric said. "Don’t worry, I figure I’ll have plenty left to say by the time this story’s done."

"Okay, now let’s get to work," Spooge said. "You all know what our job is here-"

"No we don’t," Casey said.

Spooge stared at him. "What?"

"We have no idea what we’re doing here," Flip added.

"But... you must’ve had some sort of preliminary briefing," Spooge said. "That was SPOOFE’s job, after all."

Everyone looked at SPOOFE. "Oops," was all he managed to say. He stepped forward and took a deep breath. "Okay, someone’s trying to kill Stone Cold and we can’t let that happen." He glared at Spooge. "There, you happy?"

"Quite," Spooge replied. "Okay, people, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re going to have someone around Stone Cold at all times. Everyone else will be scouring the premises for lax security or suspicious doings. Is that clear?"

There was a chorus of affirmative answers, so Spooge continued. "Okay, you’ll get the details in between now and the next scene so as not to bore the audience..."

As promised, everyone got the details in between... uh... then and now so as not to bore the audience. As luck would have it, Flip got the first watch to keep an eye on Steve Austin. Unfortunately, Flip didn’t know where Steve Austin was.

Flip wandered the halls of the WWF Arena calling out, "Stevie!! Where are yo-o-o-ou?" After twenty minutes or so, a large arm reached out of an open door and grabbed hold of Flip’s neck. Uh-oh, Flip thought to himself, I recognize that elbow...

The owner of the large arm spoke. "The Rock is trying to hold a conversation on his telephone and some Jabroni like you is running around screaming for Stevie? Do you think you impress The Rock with your high-pitched squeaky voice and candy-ass haircut? Do you think that your mindless jabbering is more important than The Rock ordering The People’s Pizza from The People’s Pizza Hut?"

Flip gulped. "Uh, no, Mr. People’s Champion, sir... I was just trying to find-"

"IT DOESN’T MATTER WHO YOU WERE TRYING TO FIND!!!"

"No, sir, Mr. Rock, it doesn’t, not at all.... it’s just that we were hired by-"

"IT DOESN’T MATTER WHO YOU WERE HIRED BY!!!"

"No, sir, Mr. Rock, it doesn’t, not at all... it’s just that someone’s trying to kill-"

"IT DOESN’T MATTER WHO SOMEONE IS TRYING TO KILL!!!"

Flip stared back at The Rock, thinking that he had to somehow get The Rock to listen. Just then, something snapped inside of him...

"You think you impress The Flip?!?" Flip asked, his squeaky voice rising to new levels (and it actually had some masculinity in it). "You think all your bravado and charisma is going to make me afraid of you?" Flip pulled himself free of The Rock’s grip. "Well, The Flip says this... The Weasel’s Champion is looking for The Rattlesnake to keep an eye on his not-quite-so-roody-poo-candy-ass. The Flip’s got a job to do and nobody, not even The Rock, is going to stand in his way." Flip tilted his head back. "‘Cuz if ya sme-e-e-e-e-ell what The Flip is cookin’...!" He then took his leave of The People’s Champion.

The Rock just watched Flip go. "Strangely, The Rock is impressed," he said. He then brought his phone back up and continued with his order. "Sorry for the interruption... what? No, I said triple People’s Pepperoni, Jabroni, not People’s Anchovies! Idiot..."

After leaving The Rock to his pizza ordering, Flip continued roaming the halls in his search for Steve Austin. Suddenly, he stopped as something caught his gaze out of the corner of his eye. There, above a door that he hadn’t check yet, was a large neon sign that read "Stone Cold’s Personal Locker Room... No Triple H’s Allowed". Well, Flip spent several minutes wondering if he were a Triple H, but eventually decided that he wasn’t, so he pushed the door open and went right in. As soon as he did, Stone Cold kicked him right in the gut and put him through a Stunner.

Flip, being rodentially tough, was relatively unfazed by the Stunner. "Whadja do that for?" Flip asked.

"I thought you were Triple H," Stone Cold said. "He wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of doubly-pissing me off by entering my locker room when it’s strictly forbidden."

"Well, I’m not Triple H," Flip said. "I’m here to investigate the assassination attempts."

"Oh, well, good," Stone Cold said. "I may be the toughest sonuvabitch alive, but nobody’s tougher’n a bullet to the head." Stone Cold sat down on a bench and reached into a cooler. "Want a beer?"

Flip shook his head. "Nah, I’ve got my own stuff." He reached into his portable cooler and pulled out a Josta. "Want one?"

Stone Cold hesitated, then shrugged. "Yeah, sure, I’ll try anything once. Well, almost anything." He grabbed the can of Josta, smashed it against his head, and began guzzling it. After chugging the whole can, he grinned. "Wow! This stuff is amazing!"

"I’m glad you like it," Flip said. "I’ll arrange for a whole case to be delivered to your locker room."

"Good. ‘Cuz this stuff is great, and that’s the bottom line, ‘cuz Stone Cold said so!"

Flip gave The Rattlesnake a funny look. "Uh, no offense, but this stuff was great before you said so." Stone Cold glared at Flip. "Uh, but..... but you saying it’s great makes it even more great!!!! Yeah...."

"Damn straight," Stone Cold said. "Gimme another one."

Flip did so. "So, tell me, Mr. Cold, sir... how many times has someone tried to kill you?"

"One million and six," Stone Cold said.

Flip just stared for a moment. "I mean... how many times has this particular someone tried to kill you."

"Oh," Stone Cold said. "That’s different. I’d say... umm... maybe a dozen or so times. He’s tried to poison my beer... but I’d always smell the poison... nobody fucks with Stone Cold’s beer... he’s tried to shoot me a couple times, but always missed... he’s hidden rabid guinea pigs in my pants, but I managed to get away from those..."

"All right, all right, all right, I get the picture," Flip said. "Do you have any idea who this guy is?"

"Nope," Stone Cold said. "Except... he once left a note." Stone Cold pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to Flip. It read:

Stoan Culled, your a ded mann.

"I see," Flip said. "So this guy’s obviously not very bright."

"Exactly," Stone Cold said.

Flip rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... if I was an idiot, who would I--" Suddenly, Flip brightened. "Triple H!" he exclaimed. He pulled out his comlink and thumbed it on. "Hey, SPOOFE, I’ve got a lead... try questioning Triple H about the assassination attempts."

"Good job, Hornweasel," SPOOFE said, breathing heavily. "But right now I’m in the middle of fighting with Kane. Can it wait?"

"Oh, right, sorry," Flip said.

"One more thing, Hornweasel," SPOOFE said. "Code names only over this transmission line!!! In case you forgot, I’m Overlord, you’re Hornweasel, Kia’s (ow!! Stay down, you bastard) Pagancat, Katharine’s Shortcake, Eric’s Levelhead, Casey’s Adam’s Apple (whoa!!! You son-of-a-bitch!!! Take that!!!), and CornHusker’s CornHusker."

"Right," Flip said. "Hornweasel out."

Outside, in the ring, SPOOFE was having a tough time with Kane. After the transmission from Flip, SPOOFE shut off his comlink and put it back in his pocket, then turned around just as Kane grabbed SPOOFE’s throat and picked him up for a choke-slam. But as SPOOFE was hoisted into the air, he managed to wrap his legs around Kane’s throat, and as he went down, he pulled Kain down with him. Kane flipped over and SPOOFE went for the pin. The referee counted one... two...

Just as Kane was about to be counted out, X-Pac appeared in the ring, knocking SPOOFE off of Kane and ruining the pin. SPOOFE jumped to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" SPOOFE asked. "I thought you didn’t like Kane anymore."

"Well, I’m sure as hell not gonna let you pin ‘im," X-Pac said. He helped Kane to his feet.

SPOOFE shrugged. "Okay, if that’s how you wanna play..." SPOOFE lunged forward and grabbed X-Pac’s feet. He lifted the smaller man up, swung him around, and smashed him into Kane. Both men went down. SPOOFE threw an arm over both of them, and the ref began counting. Three counts later, both X-Pac and Kane were declared the losers. SPOOFE jumped up and gave the Imperium Salute to the audience, then ambled back up the ramp...

On to Chapter 2...