NO MERCY~!...
OR HOW I GOT DRUNK AND LEARNED TO TOLERATE A HHH EGO
FUCK.
\
Hey there PPV fans! Your PPV Rant,
done by Mr. Swagbag (If that indeed is his real name) will be
coming...eventually; but irregardless, I thought, as a good will gesture, I
would give you the quick and dirty results from No Mercy! Because you so
obviously never seeked them out by going anywhere credible like Observer or
WWE.com. No siree. That'd make too much sense. Instead, you've been waiting with
baited breath and masturbated genitals, awaiting the show results from
US: The Internet's number one source for totally credible coverage of fake
fighting by dudes in underwear who never get arrested no matter how many times
they run over people with cars and light people on fire, all whilst being
filmed by a cameraman who, like Chris Benoit, does not exist on our plain of
existence. It's true. So, ya. I'll get to it in a second. And feel lucky my
friends, because for this, I have pulled myself away from heavy
drinking and a family turkey dinner on this Sunday, which is Canadian
Thanksgiving~! It's true. And yes, we do celebrate it. Normally, we'd wait
until November like you cocksuckers, but by then, it's all but impossible to procure a bird,
as all the turkeys are buried under a mountain of snow, and we don't dare
brave the elements to seek out their frozen solid carcasses because we don't see
sun again until the following March. You know, as per your completely
realistic stereotype of our country.
Now, as for
the pay-per-view. Well, IT WAS THE GREATEST NIGHT IN THE HISTORY OF OUR SPORT...If your
last name was umm, Hearst-Helmsley? Oh ya, baby. Trips weighed in at an
impressive 5000 pounds for tonight's PPV...once you included the near 3 tons
of his fucking giant ego. Oh you better believe it. But, hey, you can't
really blame Hunter. It's not like the crowd was chanting feverishly for Chris
Jericho or something. Oh wait, that's right, they were. But hey, what can you
do? WWE Booking is like the elderly with their VCRs. You can never EVER
change anything, BECAUSE THEN IT MIGHT NOT EVER WORK
AGAIN.
That said, though, I think by this point, we
need to just all realize that this is the way things are, and the way it will always
be. It's like a crippled person lamenting the loss of their legs. Eventually, you
just have to accept the fact that your legs are fucking the boss's daughter and
there's nothing you can do about it. Wait. That didn't come out right. Never
mind.
So, as for how
things unfolded, well, we decided a new WWE Champion right away. Vince McMahon
and William Regal declared that by virtue of sending Super Cena back to the
healing chamber in the Fortress of Solitude for the next 6 months, Randy Orton is now WWE
CHAMPION. BUT WAIT A MINUTE, MISTER. HERE COMES TRIPLE H TO DISPUTE THIS BY GAWD
BULLSHIT. I MEAN, REALLY, HOW CREDIBLE CAN A CHAMPION BE WHEN HE'S JUST
HANDED A WORLD TITLE BY MANAGEMENT? I'm so glad it was Triple
H who saved us from all that. *ahem*
From there, Triple H
then DEMANDED a World Title match. And Orton said "No way! I remember what
happened the last time I let you have a match. You pretty much destroyed my
credibility until, umm, like the last couple of months!". And Triple H was
all like "Guess what, it's happening again tonight~!" and Vince made the match
after HHH called him on his guts. That's all it took. Seriously. Vince gave it up that fast
no questions asked. By that logic, next time I'm in Stamford, I'm going to
approach him and say "I bet you don't have the courage to let me titty fuck
Stephanie", and he'll be all like "Oh, you wanna bet!". You see, I have this
clever ruse all planned out. It's foolproof.
Now, that said, *some* people
might say, "Well, what sense does it make
to give your mortal enemy a title shot when for 8 weeks straight you've been
trying to end his career?" Ok, I'm the one actually saying this. Dear god, man. But
it's true. This matchmaking makes like zero sense.
So, ya, the match is
happening. Right now. And well, I could tell you what happened in great detail,
but I'm not going to. Because I think you already know how this whole evening
unfolded....
That's right, baby, HHH is
ELEVEN TIMES THE MAN~! And he did it with a SCHOOL BOY, and without the aid of a
single Pedigree, or the shades of ARN ANDERSON SPINEBUSTER. That said, I
wonder if whenever Arn used it, he yelled out triumphantly "SHADES OF ME!". I'd
mark. And you know you would, too.
Now, in most
cases, you'd think that the new Champion's night would be over, right? I mean,
he *did* just hand the one guy who actually managed to get over on Cena as
a credible threat his ASS. He should just go back, fly Lemmy in to
just write him a new song, just because, pin a few tag teams wandering in the
back, attack Carlito for no reason, back his luxury bus over a few
cruiserweights, and call it a night, right? WRONG. WHY DO THAT, WHEN YOU CAN PIN YET ANOTHER TOP HEEL, CLEAN? This shit
makes total sense, I swear. Well, if you bang your head on the coffee table a
few times. And believe me, the blood will eventually subside, I
promise.
So, ya, Triple H is on deck
to now DEFEND his WWE title against his originally scheduled opponent,
Umaga. Ah, you remember Umaga? The Samoan Bulldozer? Well, I guess Trips took
offense to that moniker. And why not? HHH was dropping huge amounts of soil on
people LONG before ANY Bulldozer. So, you guessed it, Triple H pins him too.
But this time, he at least used the pedigree. It's true. HHH just debunked the mystery of Samoan skulls once and for all. You see, for YEARS Samoans have no-sold any
trauma to the head, but the Pedigree is a different animal, obviously. After all,
it has nuclear capabilities. I mean, did you know God created the Universe by
delivering a thunderous Pedigree? It's true. (and we would have seen it again
last year at Backlash but God no-showed the event after he heard he was
jobbing). You see, the reverberations from its unequaled power
subsequently caused the big bang and life as we know it. Some people may
call me a liar, sure, but those people just want to tell the truth. So don't
trust them.
Oh ya, for those keeping
count....
Now, you'd think that this
night would FINALLY be over, right? BUT YOU'D BE WRONG. AGAIN. MAN YOU
SUCK. You see, Mr. McMahon promised history would be made tonight! Just not
the kind we really care about or look forward to. But ya, tonight, in that very
ring, Triple H will meet RANDY ORTON again for the WWE Title! HHH's eyes said
"Oh no!" but his mind said "Ya, I guess I could pin him one more time." BUT
THAT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, MISTER! YOUR SKILLS AS THE BEST WRESTLER EVER TO
KNOW WHAT STEPHANIE MCMAHON'S VAGINA LOOKS LIKE, BUT THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH
IT, WE SWEAR, will now meet Randy Orton in a (for dramatic effect) LAST.
MAN. STANDING. MATCH! And all without us ever seeing a football punt
to the head of the strangely nameless father of the Game, Mr. Levesque. You
see, Fathers don't get first names in WWE, much in the way Divas don't get last
names. I don't make the rules.
So, ya, Triple H,
will wrestle a THIRD TIME in one night. And if that's not bad enough for him,
his ribs are HURT. OH NOES. Apparently he bruised them while effortlessly
rolling atop two men in a span of an hour. I hope he's Okay! But you see, HE'S NOT
OK. This was Vince's plan all along. Tire the Game out after an evening of
defeating every top heel on the brand in one night completely clean...and THEN
capitalizing on that fatigue! It's true. And it's
BRILLIANT.
One RKO on
the announce table later, and Randall K. Orton, The Legend Killer, and the
only man to not leave a Holiday Inn Express with any special
unforeseen skills, but instead a warrant for his arrest, is ONCE
AGAIN WWE Champion. MAN, WATCH THAT FUCKING SHINY HOT POTATO
SPIN~!
...And this all
happened in the span of 3 hours. But not before Trips somehow had a
monogrammed nameplate adhered to a belt like 5 minutes after he won
it!:
Oh my god,
that's so awesome. He actually had someone put his name on a belt he was going
to lose like two hours later. Hunter is my hero. I'm gonna go write my name on
my bowling shoes in his honor. That next motherfucker's going to know exactly whose
shoes these were. I'm tellin' you.
Now that was the
main story of No Mercy. There were *other* non-Triple H'y things that happened on
this show, but you shouldn't remember those. Stuff like a six man tag between
Jeff Hardy & Londrick against Mr. Kennedy & Cade & Murdoch.
Yes, it's true. Red necks and a guy with red eyes from crying over what should
have been, defeated Hardy and Londrick when Kennedy pinned London with a Green
Bay plunge or Lambeau Leap or whatever it's officially called. All I know is, it
was nice to see Mr. Kennedy actually win a match. After the whole
Signature pharmacy debacle, I was worried the company wanted him to take a
fucking Lambeau Leap off a cliff. Glad I was wrong.
Beth Phoenix is
YOUR NEW WOMEN'S CHAMPION. She got the job done with a Fisher-woman's suplex. I
heard she learned that hold whilst fishing for women along the Glamazon River.
Don't question my sources. And not just because they don't exist and thus it'd
be impossible.
Beth then cut an
emotional promo with Jerry Lawler where she cried at being the new champion. Except she's supposed
to be the Heel. She's the most emo badguy since Anakin Skywalker. Unfortunately,
she *also* possess Anakin's acting skills as well. Dear God. All was
missing was this GEM: "I don't like sand, King. It's coarse and rough and
irritating and it gets everywhere!"
CM Punk
defended the ECW Title against Big Daddy V, in his hometown.... and didn't lose! Holy
shit. That's a first. Anyway, it was Straight
Edge
versus Round, well, everything, and it saw V. get EXTREME disqualified in about
an EXTREME minute and a half, for outside interference by Matt Striker, whom
I once heard was a disgraced former New York City School Teacher. Did
you know that? Man, Tazz & Styles should really make an effort to mention
it more often....
V. then
attacked Punk and laid him out after the match with a big Samoan drop. Or
Drop as it's known back on the Islands. Punk then bled from the mouth. I
blame this whole result on his "addiction to competition". I know the
dangers all too well. I was once addicted to competition, but luckily for
me, family and friends arranged an Intervention. I've been sober for 6
months now. I haven't even looked at a fucking wristlock or drop-toe-hold
ONCE in that time. It's not too late for you Punk. Help is out
there~!
We also had
a PIZZA EATING CONTEST. Holy shit, a PPV EXCLUSIVE PIZZA EATING CONTEST?! And
here I thought they'd rip us off by giving it to us on FREE TELEVISION. Don't
think that WWE doesn't care about its fans. You know, despite the fact every
logical argument seems to point to that. Anyway, Matt won, two slices to
zero...then PUKED his pizza on MVP. Yes, he puked after TWO SLICES OF PIZZA. For
a dude who can't die, he sure doesn't seem to hold his fucking carbs very well.
Good thing there wasn't Pasta involved. They'd still be trying to revive him
with the defibrillators.
Matt Hardy
pantomimes our response to the fact that we just paid 45 dollars to watch two dudes
eat pizza instead of, I don't know, fight?
Finlay
then battled Rey Mysterio in an awesome match. However, the finish was
strange. Finlay faked an injury, and everyone bought it. Hell, the referee even
held up the dreaded "X" gesture. Unless, like all of us, he was just showing his
love and appreciation to DX head honcho Triple H on a great night of
continued obliteration. Maybe. Just then, Finlay comes back to health and
attacks Mysterio! Oh no he din'nt! Never trust Irishmen in women's bathingsuits
when they tell you they're hurt. Clearly.
AND WE HAVE
A BELL. Seriously. This referee will not stand for Finlay's sweet sweet
method acting skills. No sir. He's no fan of the theater. That asshole. So,
ya, No-Contest. Just like
how Joe always pleads to rape charges.
But wait, your
night is not done. We still have the Punjabi Prison! Not to be confused with the
Punani Prison, or Marriage as it's more commonly referred to by
me.
We are told prior
to the match by Michael Cole, that this cage is, and I wish I was lying
here, "MADE OF SOLID STEEL BAMBOO". Dear God, Cole. But it gets better. We are
also told that the structure was based off a real design from India. YES. And
yet prisoners don't ever escape. You know, despite it having no roof, and
like having only one asshole on the floor guarding it who opens a
giant door with a fucking rope. That's just awesome. Clearly, if you're a
career criminal, you might want to think about setting up shop in
India.
Anyway, I'm not going to
lie to you. This match EXCEEDED EXPECTATIONS. Well, if you thought it was
just going to be kind of a terrible match. This may have been called Punjabi Prison,
but t'was you and I, the viewing audience, that was truly sentenced
to life here. The story here is ESCAPING. The strategy I too had whilst watching
it. The finish came when after all four escape doors became LOCKED, both
men try and exit the structure by climbing. Khali boots Batista off and
attempts to scale the outer-cage, but holy shit, Batista just jumped from one
cage to the other! Man, if he didn't so brazenly insult the reputation and
character of Basketball, I'd think there just might be a lucrative
career for him there. Give it a try. Basketball forgives you, Dave! It holds no
grudges.
It's now a race
to the finish. Umm, kind of. Both men proceed to climb the cage at such a
slow pace, that my father, who was sitting beside me, just disintegrated into a
mass of bones. And holy shit, are those flying cars outside my window? What year
is this? And how am I ever going to trim this 7 foot beard? Oh ya, one wild-west
tumbleweed later, and Batista hits the floor first. Congratulations, Big Dave on
a Punjab well done!
Well, like Scrotum, this was
the Pay-per-view in a nutshell. Anvil will have your real, detailed report soon. Thanks
for putting up with my drunk ass. That said, it's time to go do my best Matt
Hardy impression, then hit the hay.
I'm Sean.
Hey, while you're here, why not check
out TWF's *OFFICIAL* MYSPACE PAGE Right HERE? LOL LEZ BE
FRIENDS~!
Sean Carless is a
man of many hats. And he wears those hats to cover an ever-increasing bald spot.
Sean's various scribblings have been read at Live
Audio Wrestling, 411 Mania, Honky Tonk Man.com, The Toronto Star.com,
Wrestlecrap, and Lethal Wrestling. He has also cured AIDS.
