Chapter 2

After the match, SPOOFE went to grab Spooge so the two of them could go have a "chat" with Triple H. Unfortunately, Spooge was in the bathroom with his head in the toilet. As SPOOFE walked in, Spooge was trying in vain to pull himself out.

"What happened?" SPOOFE asked.

"The Dudley Boyz got me!" Spooge wailed. "They gave me the Swirly from Hell!"

SPOOFE laughed. "The Dudleyz? You coulda fought them off!"

"Well," Spooge said, sheepishly, "they told me that Chyna would like me if I let them do this..."

"Well, you’re on your own," SPOOFE said. "I’m gonna have a frank communicative exchange with Triple H."

SPOOFE left Spooge wailing in the bathroom. He rushed down the many halls of the WWF complex, looking for the appropriate locker room. After finding it, SPOOFE pounded on the door.

"Who is it?!?" a less-than-happy voice said.

"It’s SPOOFE," said... uh... SPOOFE. "I would like to have a few words with you."

"Fuck off," Triple H replied.

SPOOFE made a wry face and pounded on the door again.

"Who is it now?!?!?" Triple H said, sounding even angrier.

SPOOFE grinned. "Avon calling!"

"Oh, really?" Triple H said happily. "Goody goody!! Hold on!"

The door opened up and SPOOFE pushed it inwards. He grabbed Triple H’s throat and slammed him up against the wall.

"Alright, punkass, I want some answers!" SPOOFE said menacingly. "Who’s trying to kill Steve Austin?"

Triple H worked his mouth for a minute before he spoke. "Do... do you have any nail polish?"

"Wrong answer!" SPOOFE yelled. He punched him in the gut a couple times. "Now... talk!"

Triple H just shook his head. "What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about that!!"

"You’re the only person that would have a motive to try and kill Stone Cold. Now you’d better give me some answers before I degenerate your X, if you know what I mean."

"What? ‘Degenerate my X’? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"It’s... uh... supposed to be a vague reference to me slicing off your... oh, nevermind."

"Man, are you on something?" Triple H asked.

SPOOFE just slugged him in the gut again. "It was a threat, moron, so talk!"

"All right, all right!" Triple H shouted. "I confess! It was me that sent all those love letters to Austin, not the Big Show!"

SPOOFE just stared back quizzically. "Love letters?"

"Yes, yes, I’ve been sending Stone Cold love letters for the past three months and signing them as from the Big Show..."

"But you didn’t hire someone to try to kill Steve Austin?"

"No, I swear! I just sent the love letters!"

SPOOFE moved his face close to Triple H’s. "You’re a scumbag. I don’t like scumbags. You’re gonna rot in prison, scumbag. Say hello to Bubba for me, scumbag."

"He’s got your... oh, nevermind, just get out of my locker room. I’m on in a few minutes."

With that, SPOOFE shrugged and left, vowing to soak Triple H’s wrestling suit in sulfuric acid...

CornHusker ran into the bathroom, holding his crotch. He had been challenged to a drinking contest by Al Snow (and, stupidly, accepted). But instead of the booze that he was expecting, the contest was who could drink the most water. After seventy-two gallons, Corny’s bladder felt like it had been run over by a cement mixer. Or, rather, contained a cement mixer.

He burst into a stall and opened his fly. He groaned as the liquid waste began exiting his body.

"Corny?" Spooge asked from the next stall over.

Corny’s ears perked up. "Spooge, is that you?"

"Yeah, it’s me."

"You’re stuck in a toilet again, aren’t you?"

"Uhhh... no."

"Oh," CornHusker said. "Then... what are you doing?"

There was a long pause. "I’m... uh... stuck in a toilet..."

"I thought so," Corny said.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it sound like I’m doing?"

"It sounds like you’ve got Niagra Falls in there," Spooge said. "You got suckered into a water-drinking contest again, didn’t you?"

"Umm... no, as a matter of fact, I didn’t."

"Then what happened?"

There was a long pause. "I... uh... got suckered into a water-drinking contest again."

"I thought so," Spooge said. "Uh... do you think you can help me out here when you’re done?"

CornHusker checked the urine flow. "Sure, but I don’t think it’ll be any time soon."

"Oh. Okay."

Eric had been assigned to scan the arena for any sort of dangers for Stone Cold Steve Austin. He was setting up a series of pipes along the ceiling of the hallways. He was just finishing up his operation when Vince stumbled upon him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Vince asked.

"Putting a theory to the test," Eric said. "Want to see me put it into action?"

"Sure," Vince said slowly.

"Good, come this way," Eric said. He led Vince to the main arena area, where Stone Cold was fighting with the janitor. Eric sat next to Jerry Lawler and Michael Cole.

"And now we’re joined ringside by Vince McMahon and... some other guy," Jerry Lawler said. "Perhaps they’ll screw up the fight by whacking someone with a title belt or two!"

"Right, shut up," Eric said. He held up his watch and began counting. "Five... four... three... two... one... now." He jumped up beside the ring and held up a mirror.

Up in a booth, perfectly situated for assassination attempts, was the Mysterious Assassin, with a really cool-looking futuristic laser balancing on the ledge. He centered the lasers’ laser sights on Stone Cold.

"This time, he’ll be made dead," the Mysterious Assassin muttered. He pulled the trigger. The bright crimson laser... uh... lased out at Stone Cold.

Eric’s mirror was thrust into the path of the laser at the last femtosecond (a really teensy-weensy unit of measure) and reflected off towards the hallways. The piping on the ceiling contained the laser beam as it reflected off and bounced around through the arena until it exited the piping up in the Mysterious Assassin’s booth. The crimson beam struck the laser and it exploded.

The Mysterious Assassin looked at the crumpled pile of ash in his hands and swore...

Down by the ring, Vince said, "Wow..."

"Yes, people say that a lot around me," Eric said. He stuck the mirror in his pocket and headed back up the ramp. Stone Cold jumped out of the ring and joined him.

"Hey, that wasn’t too bad," Stone Cold said. "Wanna go grab a beer?"

"No, that’s quite all right," Eric said. "How about a game of ‘Tribes’?"

"‘Tribes’, huh?" Stone Cold said. "What’s that?"

"Come... allow me to enlighten you," Eric said with a grin.

"Will you hurry it up?" Spooge exclaimed. "I don’t even want to think about what this toilet water is doing to my hair."

"I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!" Corny exclaimed, still peeing. "Damn... the toilet’s about to overflow again." He reached over and flushed the john again, still urinating.

"You know, you’d be a godsend to anyone who was interested in golden showers," Spooge said.

"Shut up," Corny said. "I’ll be done in a minute."

"You said that ten minutes ago."

Backstage, SPOOFE, Casey, and Katharine were sitting around a card table, reading through information regarding the numerous assassination attempts and other boring stuff.

"This is boring stuff," Casey said.

"Oh, shut up," SPOOFE replied. "I can’t think of anything more exciting than sewage schematics."

"I can think of, oh, a billion?" Katharine said. "Why am I even in this stupid story?"

"First off," SPOOFE said, "it’s not a stupid story. It’s brilliant. It’s genius. It’ll be made into a major motion picture someday. And second off, you’re here to be a target of sexual innuendoes. Which reminds me... can I have sex with you?"

"No, you can’t," Katharine said. "That’s a privilege that’s reserved for a select few."

"Don’t I know that," Casey said.

"Shut up!" Katharine hissed.

"Oops, sorry," Casey said. "I’ll... uh... just go back to my schematics here."

"The point is," Katharine said, "you’ll never, ever, ever, ever get me in the sack."

SPOOFE pouted. "But, can’t I make innuendoes?"

"No!" Katharine exclaimed, and walked away in a hissy-fit (she gets like that a lot).

"Sheesh, what’s her problem?"

"Probably the fact that you keep asking her if you can bone her while she considers you to be one of the most disgusting creatures on the face of the planet," Casey said.

SPOOFE glared at him. "Stick with your schematics, dickhead."

"You asked the question."

"It was rhetorical."

"So was my answer."

SPOOFE was about to present an incredibly sharp retort that would have had Casey cringing on his knees when a shriek resounded through the back-stage area. SPOOFE and Casey both jumped up and ran to the source. There, in one of the snack rooms reserved for the staff, was Katharine... and Viscera.

"Once you’ve ‘ad fat, you never go back!" Viscera was saying (strangely, in a Scottish accent), stroking Kat’s hair as she huddled in a fetal position. "I want my baby-back, baby-back, baby-back, baby-back..."

"Here’s your baby-back!" SPOOFE shouted, and he and Casey jumped forward and both planted a nice, solid kick into Viscera’s spine. He staggered forward, nearly crushing Kat, but she managed to jump underneath a table.

"I think it was my turn to deliver the witty pre-surprise-attack one-liner," Casey said.

"Really?" SPOOFE asked. "Didn’t you do the ‘Your vodka can wait’ line last week with Mikhail Gorbachev?"

"But what about when you shouted ‘Hot tamales on the house’ during the hit on that New York taxi driver on Tuesday?"

"Oh, come on, Casey, that wasn’t witty."

"Guys!" Katharine shouted. "Can you argue about this later?!? There’s someone you have to beat up!!"

"Oh, don’t worry," Casey said. "That kick we gave him probably shattered his spine in four places. He’ll be lucky if he ever regains feeling below his waist."

Suddenly, Viscera’s limp form stirred... and, very slowly (a guy that weighs 450 pounds can only do things slowly) started to get up. He turned around and glared at his two assailants.

"Umm... I guess all his fat cushioned the blow," Casey said. He dropped into a fighting stance. SPOOFE just stood there. "You... uh... could get ready for a fight," Casey suggested.

"But I can see Katharine’s cleavage!" SPOOFE said, giggling and pointing.

"Really?" Viscera said, and leaned over to look for himself.

"Sucker," SPOOFE said, and lifted his heavy-booted foot and kicked Viscera in the face. The behemoth jerked backwards, then collapsed on his not-insubstantial ass. The arena shook, and off in the distance somewhere, a voice yelled, "Ow! Chewie!"

Viscera tried to struggle to his feet, but his rotundity prevented him from getting any leverage. SPOOFE and Casey grabbed his arms and through him out the door, into the main equipment garage of the WWF arena. Viscera crashed into a stack of conveniently-placed-and-coincidentally-empty boxes, then climbed to his feet, kicking the boxes out of his way.

SPOOFE and Casey flanked him, and Viscera glared back and forth, trying to decide who to eat first. He eventually decided that Casey didn’t have enough meat (or fat) on his bones, and lunged at SPOOFE. SPOOFE tried to retaliate by giving Viscera a chop in the solar plexus, but a chunk of bouncing flab blocked the blow. Viscera threw his massively chunky arms around SPOOFE’s body and squeezed.

SPOOFE gasped as the fat-bear-hug forced all the oxygen from his body (and shattered a few ribs and ruptured a few internal organs, but who cares about those?). He desperately tried to get air into his lungs.

"Casey... help..." he managed to gasp. Casey was busy hitting on a group of the Godfather’s ho’s, but when he heard SPOOFE, he whirled around, grabbed a chair, and swung it at Viscera. The chair bounced off the flab. He grabbed a two-by-four and swung it at Viscera. The two-by-four bounced off the flab. He grabbed sledge hammer and swung it at Viscera. The sledge hammer bounced off the flab. He grabbed Michael Cole and swung it at Viscera. Michael Cole bounced off the flab.

"Dammit, something has got to work," Casey muttered to himself. Suddenly, he got an idea. He ran over to Steve Blackman’s locker room, and returned a minute later with one of Blackman’s kendo sticks.

"There’s probably a reason they keep so many of this things handy," Casey said, and swung the kendo stick at Viscera. The kendo stick bounced off the flab, but created an excruciatingly painful slapping sound as it did. Viscera screamed and began writhing on the ground.

SPOOFE gasped for breath. "Wow," he said. "I guess Viscera’s only weakness is that worthless excuse for a weapon."

Suddenly, off in the distance, a voice yelled, "Where’s my lucky lucky glow-in-the-dark autographed kendo stick?!?!?" It was Steve Blackman.

SPOOFE grabbed the stick from Casey, and wrapped it in one of Viscera’s flabby hands. "Viscera has it!" SPOOFE shouted.

"Again?!?!?" Steve Blackman ran in and began kicking Viscera’s butt. SPOOFE and Casey, suddenly uninterested in the results, returned to their schematics. Katharine walked in to join them.

"Let this be a lesson to everyone," SPOOFE said to nobody in particular, "I’m the only fat freak of nature that gets to hit on Kat."

"Oh, joy for me," Katharine grumbled.

"Say, Kat, can I have sex with you...?"

Kia was hiding in a corner staring at a small TV screen... (what an opening for another section, huh?).

"Come on... take off the pants," Kia was muttering to herself. "Ooh... yes.... yes.... YES!!!!!" She jumped up and shouted, then continued staring at the screen. "Now the boxers.... ooh... ooh..."

"What are you doing Kia?"

Kia jerked back, then hid the portable TV as Katharine walked up. "Uh... nothing... what are you doing?"

"SPOOFE kept asking me to have sex with him, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I mean, I really, really want to sleep with him, because I’m so deeply sexually attracted to him, but I know I’m not good enough for him."

"I know what you mean, Kat," Kia said. "I’m not good enough for him, either."

"I’m beginning to think nobody is," Kat said with a sigh. "Still... if he knew how much I fantasize about him..."

"Yeah, me too," Kia said, dropping her hands to her sides.

Kat noticed the small TV in her hand. "What’s this?" she said, snatching it away.

"Hey! Give it back!" Kia said. She tried to grab the TV back, but Katharine was just too squirmy.

"Ooh," Kat said. "He’s hot."

"He’s mine!" Kia said. "Or, at least, he will be... eventually..."

"Then go talk to him."

"I can’t just go up to him and start talking to him! I need a reason first!!"

"You have a reason," Kat said. "You’re investigating assassination attempts."

"Is that what this story is about?" Kia asked. "I was beginning to forget for a second there..."

Suddenly, Eric appeared on the scene. "Actually, this story exists just for the purpose of putting a group of friends in a situation- in this case, with the WWF- that provides the possibility for a number of humorous episodes."

"Thank you, Eric," Kia said.

"You’re welcome," Eric said. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy kicking Steve Austin’s butt... in ‘Tribes’." With that, Eric left.

"Anyway," Katharine said, "go talk to Edge. I’m gonna go find a comfy place to lie dow, fantasize about SPOOFE, and masturbate."

"You do that," Kia said with a grin. "I’m gonna go get some."

Kia strutted down the hallway to Edge’s locker room (strange... for some reason all the wrestlers had their own private locker room... oh well) and knocked on the door.

"What?" Edge called out.

Kia cleared her throat, and said in her best detective-wannabe voice, "I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding some unusual activity around here, Mr... uh... Edge."

"All right, hold on a sec," Edge answered. A few seconds later, the door opened. Edge was dressed only in his pants (tight pants, too). Kia took one look at him and almost swooned. "What do you want to ask me?" Edge asked.

"May I come in?" Kia asked, keeping the clarity of mind to not swallow her tongue.

"Sure," Edge said. He walked into the room and pulled out a chair for Kia to sit on. Edge plopped down on a bench.

"Are you trying to assassinate Stone Cold Steve Austin?" Kia asked.

"No," Edge answered.

"Do you know who is?" Kia asked.

"No," Edge answered.

"You wanna fuck?" Kia asked.

"N— I mean, yes," Edge answered.

Twenty minutes later...

Edge jumped out of the extra-large bed that just happened to be in a neighboring room (it was Val Venis’s dressing room, but luckily, Val was out on a photo shoot for a porno calendar).

"Great Gangrel’s Goose!" Edge exclaimed. "We’re on in five minutes!"

"‘We’?" Kia asked.

"Me and Christian," Edge said. "Where is he?"

Suddenly, Someone came in, wearing a red jacket and a red cap. "Telegram for Edge," he said.

"Hey, Someone, long time no see," Kia said.

"I’m only here for a cameo appearance," Someone said. "See, we finally found Obi-Wan, and we’re gonna begin our golf game in a few minutes..." He handed the telegram to Edge. Edge opened it and began reading.

"Where was Obi-Wan?" Kia asked.

"He was at K-Mart, buying toilet paper to stuff in his bra," Someone said. "Anyway, I really must dash. Toodle-ee-oodle-ee-oo, and a jolly day to you!" He zipped back out the door.

"Holy Hardcore Holly," Edge said. "Christian says that he won’t be in tonight. He’s baking a fruitcake to send to Jericho. That means I have to wrestle with the Hardy’s all by my lonesome! Poor me... poor, poor me..." Edge sat on the... uh... edge of the bed and began to sob.

"Hey, I’ll wrestle with you," Kia said.

"Really? Great!" Edge said. He tossed her some really tight and very, very revealing spandex. "Put this on."

Kia tried to get into the suit, but it was just too tight. "I can’t do it," Kia said.

Edge grabbed a small jar of grease. "You’re supposed to lube up your entire body before climbing into one of those things," he said. "Here, let me help you."

"Please," Kia said, nearly swooning again. A minute later, nice ‘n slippery, Kia climbed into the really-ultra-mega-tight and revealing bodysuit. She looked at herself in the mirror.

"Hey, this makes my breasts look ten times as big," Kia said.

"I’ve noticed," Edge said, his eyes getting wide. "Let’s go wrestle."

There was a toilet flush. Then a lot of grunting and groaning. Then a loud popping sound. A few seconds later, Spooge and CornHusker emerged from the bathroom. Spooge’s hair was dripping wet.

"I thought we’d never get out of there," Spooge said. "How much water did you drink?"

"Oh, ‘bout seventy gallons or so," CornHusker said. "You shoulda seen the other guy. He had to go to the hospital."

"Al Snow went to the hospital?" Spooge asked.

"Al Snow? Nah, his name was... uh... Mitchel, or something. Mitchel Cole. Something like that. Al barfed up all the water and it shot out like a fire hose, hit Mitchel in the nuts, and knocked him against the wall."

"Suddenly, I’ve stopped caring," Spooge said. "Look!" He pointed farther down the hallway. There was a figure dressed in all black standing in front of the locker room of Stone Cold.

"It’s the assassin!" CornHusker yelled.

"After him!" Spooge yelled.

"Hail Nebraska!"

And they’re off! Mysterious Figure is in the lead, taking off like a shot from the starting position, with Spooge and CornHusker gaining on him. Spooge and CornHusker are going neck-and-neck. Mysterious Figure rounds a corner, bumping into Sergeant Slaughter and sending him sprawling. Both CornHusker and Spooge follow right behind, hurdling over Slaughter and yelling about the Mysterious Figure being the assassin. Sergeant Slaughter takes up the chase, but stops after five seconds to have another heart attack. He calls for a few more security guards to take up the chase. Now Security Guard One and Security Guard Two have joined in, but aren’t gaining much ground. Spooge and CornHusker have separated a bit, with Spooge a few feet in front of his teammate. Mysterious Figure has knocked over a water cooler much to the displeasure of Mankind, who takes flight after Mysterious Figure. Security Guard One and Security Guard Two have given up the chase to stop Ivory from ripping off B.B.’s bra. Why, I don’t know... they must be stupid. Mankind has stopped as a crowd of his dozens (and dozens) of fans mob him for a book signing, and he obliges. It’s just Mysterious Figure followed by Spooge followed by CornHusker, folks. OH MY GOD!!! CornHusker has just stopped running! What’s he doing...? He’s... he’s... YES!!! He’s got a bottle of Josta!!!! He’s chugging it down!!!! HE’S GOING INTO LIGHT SPEED!!!!! HE JUST SMASHED OVER MICHAEL COLE!!!!!!! HE’S GAINING ON MYSTERIOUS FIGURE!!!! Mysterious Figure jumps down a garbage chute.... CornHusker keeps going!!! HE SMASHES THROUGH THE WALL!!!! IT’S CHYNA’S DRESSING ROOM!!!!!! AND SHE’S BUTT-NAKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Spooge has stopped, CornHusker has stopped, everyone’s stopped caring about Mysterious Figure... they’re all staring at Chyna!! Chyna’s just standing there, as shocked as everyone else. Wait a second... is she... she’s saying something to CornHusker... he’s walking towards her... she’s taking his arm... they’re going into Miss Kitty’s dressing room!!! Oh my Spam, this is an amazing turn of events, ladies and gentlemen! Spooge’s jaw is on the floor! We can’t see what’s happening in Miss Kitty’s locker room, but we sure can hear it!! Wow... this is... this is probably the most beautiful day in Sports Entertainment history.

Now, let’s go to Jerry Lawler for commentary...

On to Chapter 3...