Lowell Dot Com Is A Stupid Sellout With A Head Bright Enough To Burn Your Retinas…You Know, Cause He’s Ugly And Has Sex With SVJ. DOUBLE BURN!!

The time for two gladiators to do battle was drawing nigh and the grudge match that has been building for about a month will come to a head when Andy Sharp finally gets his hands on Lowell Dot Com.

But last week on Courage 69 (The SEX EDITION, FUCKERS!), Lowell Dot Com saw fit to trash the hell out of Andy Sharp via an innovative backstage segment. So when the fans watching on the ACWtron or whatever the fuck this company has in the realm of Tron technology were greeted to a very odd sight, they were stunned.

Lowell…well, somehow Lowell managed to grow much taller. He looked a little lankier. He had what appeared to be a rubber mask of himself on his face and…well, to make matters worse, the entire segment had lots of pictures of one Andy Sharp all over the place, causing a few fans to start cheering. Pictures of him giving thumbs up to playing Game Boy Advance. ‘Twas all there. And for the first time, “Lowell” spoke.

“Splink own my ass. No, it’s true. Check it out on this Lowell-A-Tron Sex With SVJ…er, I mean, SIX thousand. Word.”

“Lowell” made his way to a TV and flicked it on.

“Sorry, guys. This TV is being shilled by me. So you KNOW it’s shit!”

He pointed to the logo. It was marked Sony. And tis’ True. Sony, aside from PlayStation, is shit. Then “Lowell” flicked on the TV to reveal a horribly bad Crayon drawing of stick figures resembling Splink beating the shit out of Lowell Dot Com with a lead pipe. Well, TMM was, anyway. A stick figure marked “Slapnutz” was in a rather questionable position with a stick figure marked “Lowell’s Momma.”

“What?!?!” “Lowell” screamed into the sky. “It’s true! It’s true! Splink ARE my daddy!”

He grabbed the TV and threw it off-camera creating a rather loud noise of a cat screeching for some fucking reason. That’s when “Lowell” turned and sat down in a Lay-Z-Boy recliner.

“Now, my next shilling up for bids has to do with this Lay-Z-Boy recliner. Some say it’s so big, that two of the three dimensions of Khristian Keller’s personality were lost in here, resulting in the love child of Goldberg and Steve Austin before us in the main event tonight!”

(Disclaimer: Khristian Keller does, in no way, have a 1-D personality. Okay, Zezu, where’s the check?)

(Disclaimer from Ben: You’re fired.)

(Disclaimer from Seth: :-( )

He kicked open the recliner, only to have it fall apart instantly, causing “Lowell” to fall on his ass. “Ouch! I’ve hurt my big, blue, bottom! Now how will I be able to perform for Vince Jacobs? Oh, Why, God, why?!”

“Lowell” picked himself up from the wreck and brushed some dust off his gigantic rear before facing the camera again.

“Now, Andy Sharp, I move on to you. It’s clear that despite the fact that you have only a couple years of wrestling experience, you own my ass like Vince does…just in a completely heterosexual, ‘you’re clearly the superior athlete’ kind of way. And tonight, I’m going to walk down to that ring, put my head between my legs and imagining that night in Sunny Cancun involving myself, the ACW Champion and THIS BOTTLE OF KY JELLY! KEEPING MY GAY, BLUE, SMURF-LOOKING ASS LUBED SINCE THE FIRST TIME I LAID EYES ON THE VILLAGE PEOPLE!”

He displayed a bottle marked KY Jelly before throwing that off-camera, also causing a cat’s screech to sound loudly. Lowell looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Huh. So there’s TWO pussies in this room. Small world.” “Lowell” went back to the camera and put on a mean face. Like Ralph from the Simpsons.

“RAR~! Now before I go out there and get my ass kicked, let me remind you folks that Andy Sharp is the bestestestest wrestler in the universe and he looks forward to taking ACW by storm and winning all the titles…and maybe some bitches…bitches are always good. And remember, this is Lowell Dot Com saying ‘Boy, I’m still walking funny after Sars screwed me good with that chocolate dildo cake!’”

“Lowell” removed the jacket and the blue ugly wig that looked like Cookie Monster’s pubic hairs and threw it aside to reveal…

SPLINK!

Okay, not really. It’s just Andy Sharp.

YAY!

Andy looked around at the set and smiled with his back turned to the camera.

“Sweet!” he exclaimed. “I just bashed an opponent successfully and got away with it scot-free! Whoo! Well, after this show, I can finally rent ‘Shall We Dance’. Heard there was some great dancing scenes…”

He turned around and made a grim discovery.

The camera was still on.

“Uh…” he looked around nervously and improvised on the fly. “Um…of…Jennifer…shaking that hot…Latina…ass! Yeah, cause…dancing’s gay…and…eh, screw this, I’m winning a match and going back to figuring out the mysteries of Seinfeld. Seriously, what IS the deal with him always asking what the Goddamn deal is?”

And we wander away from this segment Seth did at 12:30 in the morning to go somewhere else. 

Annnd This My Friends is Why Universal is Going to Sue ACW

"Look… Mr. Manager…" Kelly shook his head, he refused to believe that he was actually addressing somebody by that name.

"I'd just like to point out that if I'm stuck babysitting the… retard and what I can assume is his multiple imaginary friends, I'm going to do it on my terms."

The two carried on down the corridor. Kelly kept his eyes focused forward waiting for Mr. Manager to acknowledge his threat-like statement.

Mr. Manager nodded absentmindedly. "That's fine."

All Mark wanted to do was keep the peace. Kelly obviously didn't like Sars and if the clown got one whiff of that disdain he'd flip out. Mark had seen it happen so many times in the past.

Mr. Manager turned the corner and opened the door that stood in front of them. The two proceeded to enter the room as Kelly sighed.

"Okay, Manager, where is he?"

"Uh." Mark looked around...."He was here a minute ago."

Kelly folded his arms, and let out another emphasized sigh. "I hope you know I'm not happy about this."

Mark frowned. "Kelly, I'm sure the entire federation knows you're not happy about this."

"God… I feel like a ten year old Jewish boy on my way to god dammed gas chamber."

Mr. Manager half-smiled, half-laughed. "...are you implying SilverHAWK is Hitler?"

"… No…" Kelly looked at Mark as if he were an idiot. "I'm implying that it would suck to have foreskin. God."

-- Yes, what you're thinking is correct… that had absolutely nothing to do with anything.

Mr. Manager could see the light, maybe the teacher and pupil have something in common after all… an abundant lack of intelligence.

"I have foreskin!"

*Fart*

That "ass sonic boom" came from the bathroom and startled both Mark and the anti-foreskin extremist.

"… Jules? You don't have foreskin." Mr. Manager paused, maybe he shouldn't have said that...because like HOW WOULD HE KNOW?

"Where are you?" Mark said, annoyed with his own latent homosexuality.

"Me? Oh the eyes of Sars are EVERYWHERE, Mark. You know this. The ass of Sars, however, is spread wide open spraying delightful diarrhea all over the place."

Only Sars would refer to his own feces as "delightful".

Sars farted again. "Which reminds me, I have a cleaning job for you after I get done."

Mark began to cry.

"Hey, *sob* uh, Kelly," Mark began, a little under his breath, "...what'd you want to talk to him about anyway."

A loud groan could be heard from the bathroom…then the sound of a handful of spaghetti hitting the wall… spagetti from Sars's ass. The Protagonist in the story of Life could only shake his head.

"Look Mr. Manager, if that is your real name… I may not be someone who is book smart… and I may have scored the lowest on the SAT in the State… and yes I may have had a sexual intercourse at one time with a woman who may or may not have been a man. But if there is one thing I know it's wrestling. I know the ins, the outs, the ups, the downs… you name it." Kelly looked toward the lavatory door and cringed a little at the stench. "So I've come here to give him a heads up regarding GFS."

"Ah."

The sound of running water filled the small room. Sars began to sing this little tune: "Usin' the beday...I'm using the beday. For me say: YAY. I'm usin' the beday!!"

Mark scratched his head. "Sars...that bathroom doesn't have a beday."

The water stopped. "Ok, smart guy. You want me to sing 'washing my ass in the sink with my legs up in the air'? Because that's what I'm doing."

Seconds later Sars came out who at this point had his hand wedged down the front of his wrestling trunks. Kelly tried to ignore this very blunt display of disregard for politeness, and, well… intelligence.

"Jules," Mr. Manager began, addressing the clown; "Mr. Flawless has come here to give you a bit of a scouting report on GFS."

"What are we? The friggen faggot brigade all of sudden? I don't need a scouting report. Hello? Greatest wrestler in the world over here." Sars blurted out.

Kelly rolled his eyes as he proceeded. "Look, I'm not gonna kid you. You're in for a fight tonight.

And this is a bit of advice I advise you use. I've got a match myself tonight, and I didn't go out of my way just to see you disregard this and…" he paused, "… well, lose on account of poor scouting."

"I can't lose. Anyway. It's a rule. Even if I lose, I win based on...sexiness?" Sars didn't sound so convinced.

Kelly began to stare a hole right through his pupils, seemingly unimpressed. "He's going to be quick, and he's going to be intense, so stay on the defensive. NO showboating. NO screwing around in typical clown fashion. If you've got him in a vulnerable position, attack. "

He paused again briefly.

"Attack, attack, attack."

Sars didn't really take in much of what Kelly had to say, as he sat touching himself. "Doing a prematch inspection" he called it.

"If you can help it go for the neck, but be aware, because if you give him an opening he'll tear you apart like a phonebook. If he sees the slightest scratch he'll tear you limb from limb until you're unconscious from blood loss and exhaustion. He's not afraid of you, but you have to take that same mentality into this match."

Kelly backed a way a little, heading for the door as he looked over toward Mr. Manager and nodded.

"Your forever could very well be made in these next few hours, Sars," Kelly paused, a little confused by the way he ripped a quote directly from Friday Night Lights, "er… something like that."

The Blonde Warrior of the North flashed his patented smile and, ala superman, drew a cape and whisked himself away.

Meanwhile, back in Crazy Town… Sars sat quite dumbfounded by Kelly's words of advice.

"Well, that was a waste of time. I'm not going to do any of that,” the Clown said, obviously having not absorbed a word that Kelly said. Mark just shook his head.

Sars spat in disgust. "That guy can't tell me how to fucking wrestle. Shit, I KNOW HOW TO WRESTLE. Right Mark?"

"Right. But I think he was just trying to help." Mark said.

"I don't pay you to think Mark. I pay you to jack off in front of a webcam. NOW GET BACK TO WORK."

And so the fight was on…

The Past, the Present and the Future of ACW,

Versus,

The Clown.

God help us all. 

Will The Real Lowell Dot Com Please Stand Up?

Is that him? Is that—no… no… it can’t be. Can it?

Yes, it is.

The Human Advertising Machine was on the scene, and the scene in question was a lot similar to last week’s, in that it looks as if ol’ Handsome Doc got piss loaded drunk and trashed the set of the Home Shopping Network. Lowell obviously rushed the setting up process this time round. Things were not laid out as neatly – the Dell in the back was turned on and the screen plastered with pictures of naked fat chicks ‘sipping the sizzor’ out each other’s soupy nether regions.

LDC stood, disheveled, sweating from every orifice and cleaning his fingers with a wad of tissues. His jacket was no where to be found and his black tank top was untucked.

“GREETINGS and SALUTATIONS to my SUB-DOH-MAY-NAHS!” He tossed the tissues aside and brushed his hair back. “Tonight I compete in a… *shudder* wrestling match… I’m not as pysched for it as I was last time you saw me. I’m, as you can see, a bit TENSE. I keep sweating from my ass and I’m not sure whether or not it’s a medical problem. Doesn’t hurt or anything, but it’s damn annoying, and I feel like a giant butterfly has hatched inside my stomach and is trying to escape through my mouth.”

The fans went “BOOOOOOOO!!”, not enjoying Lowell’s update on his sweaty anus one bit.

Still, the Czar of Cashflow continued on: “I just got finished doing some work.” Lowell gestured to the computer, forgetting that his fav. porn site was left glowing in the background, and thus he beamed proudly in his lie. “Y’know, the daily grind. I don’t exactly work a 9 to 5 but I know what it’s like to have the boss always harping on ‘ya to get those charts in by Monday! I mean, I’m a pretty demanding boss! HOH HOH… Sometimes I just wanna’ throw my PC out the window, or at a bum, but then I say to myself, I say: “LOWELL, FIX THAT PART IN YOUR HAIR AND FLATTEN DOWN THE COWLICK! THERE’S WORK TO BE DONE! MONEY TO BE HAD! YOU’RE THE CZAR OF CASHFLOW, DAMNIT! PICK UP YOUR SOCKS AND GET SOME WORK DONE!” And once I hear the word ‘money’ – the Green Backs, as I call ‘em – it’s off to the races!”

Lowell digs out his fat-ass wallet and shows off its insides to the camera– BURSTING with one dollar bills! See, Lowell’s not as wealthy as he likes to let on… He probably only rakes in 40K a year from his web-site which is regarded by many as ‘something a toddler could have thrown together’. Most of the products Lowell shills the companies don’t even know about. It’s sad… and pathetic. But that’s Lowell in a nut shell.

“There’s– what? Maybe fifteen… maybe sixteen grand in there?” Oh, the denial. You’ve got to wonder whether or not Lowell actually believes his own lies. “Yeah… That’s just how I roll! *Sniiiiiiiff* EEE’YEEEEEEP. Like to know I got a small fortune riding shot gun to my right ass cheek! Makes me feel like more of a man.” Lowell shrugged. “But yeah… What was I talking about? I really hate doing these things ‘cause my ADHD makes me loose my train of thought.

“I’ll just say that yeah… I saw the little BS segment you did as me, Sharp! Pretending to be the Czar of Cashflow! MASQUERADING AS THE GREATEST BLUE-HAIRED ENTREPRENEUR IN ALL OF E-COMMERCE!” Lowell’s whole body trembled with anger, and his leg shot out and went through the paper-thin wall of the set. “DAMNIT! LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!”

Lowell wrenched his leg free of the gyp rock, and huffed loudly, as he pointed ‘menacingly’ at the camera. “That’s it, Sharp. That’s it. THE FINAL STRAW! THE STRAW THE BROKE THE CAMEL’S BACK! …Er, whatever! JUST SHUT UP! I’m not good with sayings! I’ve got a pretty face and a mouth that’ll spit out whatever’s put on the teleprompter for me! Without a single stutter! I’m not a fucking ENGLISH TEACHER! I don’t sit at my desk all day trying to write stories and thinking of nouns and pronouns and ADJECTIVES AND ADVERBS… SCREW ALL THAT SHIT! I’M LOWELL DOT COM! IT’S THE UGLY PERSON’S JOB TO WRITE WHAT I SAY AND IT’S MY JOB TO SAY IT! ACW tells me they ‘don’t do promo writers’… PSSH. FINE, but EXCUSE ME if my interviews turn into rambling, incoherent droppings of RAT SHIT! I CAN’T HELP IT! LOOK… I’M GOING ON AND ON RIGHT NOW ABOUT NOTHING, BUT I CAN’T STOP! MY MOUTH IS SO DRY!”

Just then a ‘DING!’ was heard, and Lowell stopped in mid-tirade, smiled, and walked over to where his desk was located at the very back of the set. Sitting on top of the PC tower was a micro-wave. Lowell opened it and stuck his hand inside, pulling out a Pizza Pop… and oddly enough, a container of Sunny D. That’s a bit… I don’t even know what to say. The plastic would’ve melted. I guess were not following logic anymore. That’s cool. Whatever.

“OH WOW, SUNNY D! I HATE THAT ICKY PURPLE STUFF! AND WHO WANTS COLA!?” Remembering that he is also ‘sponsored’ by Pepsi, Lowell quickly cleared his throat and righted his mistake. “I KNOW I DO, THAT’S FOR SURE! BUT IF YOU CAN’T HAVE A NICE COLD GLASS OF PEPSI, YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE SOME SUNNY D! YUM! SUNNY D! AND PIZZA POPS, TOO! IT’S TRUE WHAT THEY SAY: THEY GO GREAAAAT TOGETHER!!”

Lowell bit into the Pizza Pop and smiled with the cheese and tomato sauce showing through his teeth.

“It’s good… and not unhealthy at all!! Er, yeah!

“Anyway, I better wrap this thing up. It’s running a bit long.

“Anal leakage aside, I’m feeling better. Maybe it’s the Sunny D – and it probably is – but I feel like I have the strength of a HUNDRED MORTAL MEN… Or one-and-a-half Lowells, hehe… I feel as though I could CRUSH Sharp’s head with my thumb and index finger! So tonight… I’ll do just that.”

Lowell gave a wide smile.

“Seriously, I will. Then maybe Sharp will learn get out of my life and SHUT UP! GOSH!!

Anyway, yeah, I’m done. You can go away now.”

And so the camera crew did.

Mark Morris Vs. Dean McDaniel

"Bakardi Slang" by Kardinal Offishall plays as Dean McDaniel heads to the ring. McDaniel heads to the ring as, instantly, the lights turn off and "Smart" by Helmet plays. A spotlight is shown as Mark Morris walks up to the spotlight. The crowd gives him a chorus of boos as Mark Morris continues to walk down the isle not even noticing the fans. Morris walks up the steps. The spotlight focuses on Morris as he hangs on the ropes. Morris heads into the ring.

DING DING DING

The match starts as Mark Morris examines Dean McDaniel. Morris laughs at McDaniel as Morris walks closer to McDaniel.

WHACK

McDaniel smacked Morris to Neverland as Morris takes the blow. Morris, with an intense glare in his eyes, looks at McDaniel one more.

BAM

Morris clocks McDaniel down to the ground. Morris laughs at the retaliation. McDaniel gets up and pushes the Magnificient one to the ground. Morris immediately gets up. Morris and McDaniel lock up. Morris pushes him to the turnbuckle.

CRUSH

McDaniel connects with a kick to the groin; sends the arrogant Morris right down squirming in pain. McDaniel picks up Morris, sends him to the ropes, and connects with a thunderous clothesline that shook the ring. McDaniel looks at the crowd.

ROAR ROAR

Appreciation is given back to McDaniel for shutting the talkative Morris up. McDaniel awaits Morris to rise and take an oncomming superkick for a quick victory. Morris gets up.

WHOOSH

Goes McDaniel's leg, sailing right by Morris' chin. Morris, reacts and gives McDaniel a clothesline.

THUMP

McDaniel goes down and isn't getting up anytime soon. Morris smiles as the momentum has shifted.

BOO

Continues the crowd as Morris laughs at the ignorance of the crowd. McDaniel, still down on the ground, tries to reach the ropes. Morris meets him.

CRACK

McDaniel's fingers go as Morris puts his size 14 boot right on his finger to prevent him from using the ropes as a support system. Morris picks the weak, pathetic McDaniel up. Morris sends McDaniel to the ropes and connects with a superkick. Morris, knowing the end is near, picks up McDaniel.

BOOM

Like Tough Actin' Tinactin, McDaniel is affected immediately after being hit with The Element. Morris signals the crowd for his finisher. Since Morris is new, no one is unaware of what his finisher move truly is. Morris picks up the weak McDaniel up in the air. In one pure motion, Morris begins to drop McDaniel

WHAM

Morris completes a suplex into a diamond cutter. Morris, arrogant slides on top of McDaniel for a pin.

1...

2...

3.

Morris completes a quick victory over Dean McDaniel. "Smart" by Helmet plays as Morris looks right in the camera yelling "I'm One...Step...Further". Morris walks out of the ring as the chorus of boos follow him backstage.

Winner > Mark Morris

Enter the Champ

Jacobs made his way into the Palace at Auburn Hills ready to take part in ACW’s big event breakout. He was not in a good because of what happened last week at Courage 69. He thought that he was going to have the night off but that wasn’t the case. It seems that Keller and Alias found a way for both of them to get a title shot tonight.

The champ walked down the hall to his locker room. He opened the door and threw his bag on the chair. SVJ sat down on the sofa and took a long deep sigh. He knew that tonight everything was against him. He knew he had to find a way to come out on top even though the odds were stacked against him.

Triple Threat…

HA!

Should likely be more of a two on one match?

Jacobs grabbed his bag and pulled out the ACW World Heavyweight Title.

“Tonight I prove to the peons in the arena and the fucking losers in the back that SVJ is the best thing that this fed has. The ratings grabber is in the building and tonight the buyrates will go through the roof when I step in that ring to defend my title.”

“Alias and Keller tonight ‘YOUR GOD’ will be your judge, jury, and executioner. I hope you guys are ready to become STAR STRUCK.”

Jacobs stared at his title as the camera faded out.

WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?

Hey look everybody! It's Sars! He's. Like. Walking and shit. Keepin' it "gully" as the blacks would say. Mumbling about some shit Kelly Flawless said, no doubt.

"Motherfucker tells *me* how to wrestle? I'll show him. I fucking invented wrestling during the late 1930's! I'm talking about time machine antics like a motherfucker. Hell yeah, I fuck mothers. I fucked Kelly's mom and now MY SON IS TRYING TO TELL ME HOW TO WRESTLE. Why I otta....."

And so on.

OH AND WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE!?

Just then, Lowell Dot Com walked out in front of him, and just sorta' kinda' stood there sipping from a juice box he was holding and blocking Sars' path. LDC sucked on the straw, which made that annoying sound that straws and juice boxes make when there's very little juice left in the box.

Lowell then calmly dropped the juice box onto the floor like the litter bug that he is and turned to face Sars. "Excuse me, peon? Yeah…" He held out his hand to shake hands with Sars, but quickly retracted it and coolly combed his hair back. "Lowell Dot Com. YOU'RE IN MY FUCKING WAY!” The Sellout went to Pie Face Sars out of his way, but much to his surprise, his hand was swatted away.

The Czar of Cashflow arched his right eye brow, as if to say, "WTMF???" and tried for it a second time - same result. Up went his left eye brow and the expression was no longer "WTMF???" but rather a seemingly calm "Huh… Now what do we have here?" <==== We realize it's been said twice. IT'S A THEME OK?

"In case all that gay looking make up is clogging your eyes and rendering you deaf, MY. NAME. IS. LOWELL… I. AM. A. BIG. DEAL. NOWGETTOSTEPPINSHITFERBRAINS!!!"

But Sars wasn't feelin' it, that is to say… the Psycho Clown was all, "BITCH PLEEZ." But that's not really how he said it. Nope. Afterall, this is Sars, the guy's a poet and he doesn't even know it! Let's just see how he expresses his distaste for Lowell's angry words. Perhaps MORE angry words? OooHooo, this ought to be interesting!

Sars started picking his nose and smeared the "pay dirt" against the wall. "I'm sorry; I think all these years you've gotten your name wrong. It's: "Lowell, don't CUM." which you did...PREMATURELY and that's why your girlfriend came rolling to me in her wheelchair begging in between shallow sobs for a real man. So you see - this isn't make-up on my face it's JIZZ from your girlfriend, BITCH RECOGNISE."

Pause.

Sars thought about that one. Then decided what he said was totally the shit and nodded to himself with "the confidence". ---"On yeah and if you're such a big deal, then why do you go around introducing yourself to everybody? Shouldn't, I like, already know n'stuff? Like: "Oh hey! You're Lowell!! I know you, sweet! Sign my titts.." - Bah! "Big deal"...Gyeah, maybe in GAY PORN! If by "big deal" you mean "the guy who got like, six or seven AIDS from getting drilled by a guy who worked at T.G.I Fridays ON CAMERA."

BITCH PLEASE.

How could you be a deal of ANY size? You look like Rick Moranis that time he got spermed on by the Smurfs.

And don't say it never happened because it did - IN YOUR MIND.

And my brains ARE NOT made of shit. Ok, well...actually I don't know that because I've never checked. That, like measuring your penis, is gay. And measuring your penis is EXACTLY what I saw you do in this video one time. You were measuring it inside the ass of, YOU GUESSED IT, your own mother.. OH SNAP BITCH."

Sars crossed his arms and nodded twice in self satisfaction before tryin' to strut away.

Lowell's hand shot up.

Stop. Right. There.

"Excuse me, excuse me… WHO gave you permission to talk!? I know I sure didn't - why would I do that when I know what you're going to say even before you say it!? That being "LOOK EVERYONE~! I'm a nut in a clown costume that likes talking about gay porn, T.G.I. Fridays, and Rick Moranis! Where, oh where, as my prison cell bedmate Charles Manson gone? I CAN'T GO TO NIGHT-NIGHT 'TIL I FEEL HIS SWEATY BALL SAC ON MY LIPS!" Heh. Please."

Sars frowned. "Sars the Clown doesn't need permission to talk. Or walk. Or FALK. See what I did there? I made up a word prove a point. And that point is this: "

Sars spit down in front of Lowell. With one finger he pointed at the yellow phlem. "This is you."

Sars grinned and pointed to himself. "Me? I don't like talking about gay porn, T.G.I Fridays and Rick Moranis getting spermed on by lovable blue cartoon creatures. But, seeing as how *you're* the subject I don't mind suffering for my art. You see comedy, like wrestling, is an art. And I'm an artist in and out of ring baby BELEEDAT. And actually, you should be THANKING me for gracing *you* with my presence. Me! Who has charmed and amused you with countless humorous conversations. Wonderful loveable ME! Who has saved your life from those crafty gooks on NUMEROUS occasions? In Vietnam AND NORTH KOREA, yep-yep.

Now of course none of us can truly say whether these things actually happened but...YOU SHOULD BE LOVING ME DAMN IT.

Instead what do I get? A lame come back that PROFOUNDLY recaps everything I *just* said. Way to impress with your inability!"

Lowell pointed with his finger like he was going to retaliate with something, but then snarled, narrowing his eyes. "You," he hissed, before he turned and left in the same direction he came.

Well... That was abrupt.

You really shit the bed on this one, Lowell.

Andy Sharp vs. Lowell Dot Com

It’s been more than a month since these two individuals in our next contest have set foot in the ring with one another, but for said period of time, the two have exchanged many words with one another and have traded blows.

Meet one Lowell Dot Com. He was the blue-haired prick that looked to come to the realm of ACW in order to continue his blatant shilling and overall being an annoying Smurf-looking fucker in the process. BUT…he’s technically undefeated in ACW right now. Granted, he’s had one tag team match, but this is LOWELL. He don’t need to do that…*shudders*…wrasslin’ thing in order to get over. As far as he’s concerned, he is the Webmaster and you are all his Sub-Domainers…whatever the shit that means.

On the other side of that spectrum, we have a highly gifted, yet struggling athlete by the name of Andy Sharp. The fans have taken a liking to his offbeat shenanigans and odd behavior, yet this has also been a big drawback…see, unlike the undefeated Lowell, Mr. Sharp is still batting low numbers. Like, 0-3 so far. And for the past month, he’s sought to make the man who he dubbed a Smurf shut the fuck up once and for all. On two occasions, Andy Sharp has thus far taken current ACW Champion SVJ to his limit twice and fought a hard-fought bout with Trevor Norman, one half of the ACW Tag Team Champions. And two of those losses stemmed from…you guessed it. Lowell.

Now, he FINALLY had him one-on-one where Lowell would not be able to escape the wrath of the Canadian Cavalier. Would Andy Sharp snap the losing streak and get one over on Lowell or would the crafty Endorser find a way to overcome what many are calling one of the best pure athletes to come into ACW in a long time?

“Money” by Pink Floyd.

Yes, the Walking Billboard himself made his way out, wearing his trademark jacket with many logos, such as Sony, Pepsi, Auto Zone, and everything else.

And, boy howdy, did the fans boo the hell out of him as he strutted his stuff down to ringside, putting on a mean face that said, “RAR~!” for NOBODY, and I mean NOBODY parodies him the way Sharp did and lives to tell about it.

Sliding into the ring, he was quick to head to the other side of the ring and was given a mike. BAD TIMEKEEPER, BAD!

“CUT MY LOWELLICIOUS MUSIC!” He shouted boisterously as the music cut. “Yes. I said Lowellicious. When you’re as rich as me, my Sub-Domainers, and have this much bling-bling, I can create all the words I like. For that, you all gots to bow the fuck down!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“Hear that, Andy Sharp?” He turned his attention to the back. “That’s the sound of MY Sub-Domainers booing the ever-loving crap out of your disproportionate WWE giant-looking ass. You have parodied me for the FIRST and LAST time. And when you die for your blatant mockery of my name, luckily, I have some good news for you…

I JUST SAVED A BUNCH OF MONEY ON AUTO INSURANCE BY SWITCHING TO GEICO…ALL WHILE I DRINK MY PEPSI, MOUNTAIN DEW PITCH BLACK, AND GATORADE! EAT DR. SCHOLL’S GEL AND DIE, CUZ WHILE YOU’RE GELLIN’ I’M ACW’S FELON! TEXT LIFE, BIOTCH!”

He spiked the mike down and proceeded to do the Prime Time…or, we’ll call it Lowell’s Time. Since Lowell owns your mortal soul and it IS Lowell’s Time.

…Yeah, shut up. Like you could be any wittier.

As fans prepared for the good/bad ratio of Metallica to Ja Rule with “We Did It Again” we were greeted with new music. YAY! MUSIC CHANGE!

“Cult of Personality” by Living Colour.

The hit song from the early 90’s penetrated the eardrums of ACW fans as they began to get behind the rookie sensation making his way out, serious scowl on his face. This was what fans enjoyed about Andy. He came into that ring every week in order to give it 110%, regardless of the outcome.

Clad in a pair of pants-length black tights with the word “SHARP” running down both sides in a shiny gold color and black elbow pads, he rushed towards the ring and made a beeline for The Sellout, who was quick to stomp on the body of Andy before he could pick himself up off the mat to launch an attack.

He threw a hard knee into the head of Andy as he rose to his knees before quickly picking him up and tossing him into the ropes. Off the rebound, Lowell went for a quick lariat, but Sharp ducked under his smaller adversary before bouncing off the ropes himself. Lowell turned around…

“Uh-oh,” he muttered.

BLAM~!

Flying Forearm right to his jaw knocked him right on his blue fucking ass! Andy knelt down and took it to him with an intense flurry of punches that had the crowd getting behind him to shut the blue guy up once and for all. Each blow to the head (like Lowell NEEDS any more headshots, really) were making Lowell see some stars right now. Not the kind he claims to know, but actual constellations as the referee made Andy let up on the move.

And as Lowell began to pick himself up off the mat, he began to see a few constellations. There was The Big Dipper. Orion. Sharp’s Foot Up His Ass…wait, what was that last one?
Yeah, he saw the form of Andy Sharp’s boot SLAMMING him right in the face, Yakuza Kick-style, thus sending him right back down to the mat.

“MY FACE! MY BEAUTIFUL FACE!” Lowell screamed like a maniac in pain while Andy looked at the ref quizzically.

“Beautiful? When the HELL did THAT happen?” He asked with a smirk. But before The Cavalier could advance his assault, The Doctor of Lowellanomics had rolled to the outside, reaching into his tights to pull out what appeared to be a make-up kit. Ha, what a fag!

“Whew!” Lowell grinned with a sigh of relief. “Stupid uggo didn’t ruin my beautiful fucking fac…”

He never got to finish his sentence.

Why?

Well, when your opponent comes FLYING over the fucking top rope with a no-hands plancha to the outside, you’re bound to get cut off. Upon the execution of the move, the fans’ cheers resonated while Andy sought to pick himself back up to his knees from the high-risk maneuver.

Lowell tried to scurry away as well, but it was to no avail as Andy grabbed him by the head and dragged him up to his feet before pulling out a favorite of everybody’s favorite Monty Brown punching bag, Raven.

WHACK~!

RUSSIAN LEGSWEEP INTO THE BARRICADE!

Disclaimer: The writer of this match does not endorse the fact that Raven has been reduced to being Monty Brown’s punching bag. We really do hope Raven gets a big title before he finally retires and Monty Brown sucks Jeff Jarrett’s cock whilst he’s taking a piss because that’s all he’s good for. Thank you.

Lowell let out a loud groan of agony while Sharp fell to his knees, his back also colliding with the barricade. The fans clapped and applauded at the high-impact action thus far before Andy continued his assault, rolling Lowell into the ring. He hopped on the apron and actually pulled out a well-executed slingshot flipping legdrop a la Victoria, dropping his leg across Lowell’s throat and going for the first cover of the match.

One.

Two.

FOOT ON ROPES.

Andy had failed to keep Lowell from the ropes, but he at least had the time to recover from the onslaught. Lowell tried to make it up to his feet, but he was cut off with a sharp high-leg clothesline to the skull, knocking him right back down to the mat. The Canadian Cavalier grabbed Lowell by the head and pulled him into a DDT position, shouting a la Matt Hardy before…well, before The Endorser DROVE him chest-first into the turnbuckles, quickly followed by a HARD low blow.

This, in turn, pissed the ACW fans off to no end.

The referee hadn’t seen the nutshot in the midst of all the chaos in the corner, but now The Webmaster was in control for the first time in this match. Grabbing a stunned Andy by the head, he stunned him with a quick European Uppercut flurry before trying for an Irish Whip. Sharp, however, reversed the move, tossing Lowell into the turnbuckles HARD across the ring. The One Who Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest flew in there, looking for what appeared to be another kick, but Lowell dodged at the last second, catching Andy’s leg across the top turnbuckle.

With Andy’s leg in pain, Lowell quickly made his way over there and threw a HARD toe kick right to the back of his knee, making him yelp in pain before backing away from the turnbuckle. Still on his feet, however, Andy tried to mount another offense by going in for a hard right hand, but LDC had the foresight to duck the move, then throw a few more hard kicks into the back of Andy’s left knee, taking him right down to his knees.

Right where he wanted him, This-Space-For-Rent grabbed him by the head and PLANTED him viciously into the mat with a DDT. Andy took the move on the crown of his skull as well, only adding to the severity of the move.

“MOUNTAIN DEW~!” Lowell shouted obnoxiously, garnering more boos from the nearby fans that could hear him at ringside. “DO THE DEW…LIKE ANDY DOES GUYS UP THE ASS~!”

He then dropped a sharp (no pun intended) fist right into his nose before going for his first pinfall attempt.

ONE.

TWO…SHOULDER!

“Count to THREE, moron!” Lowell shouted at the referee. “THREE!”

The Webmaster grabbed the young Calgary native by his skull and pulled him up to his feet, chopping him in the chest a few times before whipping him into the corner. He followed Andy in and hit him with a high-impact clothesline in the corner, making the Cavalier stagger forward. Lowell smirked at the opportunity for more punishment and ran forward, throwing a big fist right into the back of Andy’s knee, the one that Lowell had been unintentionally working over previously.

Sharp clutched his knee while the ever-eccentric Lowell stalked his prey; ready to continue his brazen attack…BUT NOT BEFORE THESE WORDS FROM OUR ANNOUNCERS.

“MINTOS! THE FRESHMAKER!” he screamed even more horribly into the ears of his fallen rival before driving a knee right into the leg of Andy, educing a groan of pain from the youngster.

Lowell was truly enjoying himself right now. Sure, ring psychology wasn’t his game, but when he had the upper hand, it was incredibly difficult to take it away from him.

The old light bulb on the inside of Lowell Dot Com, for the first time in many millennia, had an idea. He got the idea for this maneuver long, long ago when he was flipping through channels, looking for more gullible sponsors for his website. He found one show called “WWE RAW.” Of course, Lowell Dot Com, being the moron he is, spent about half an hour on the show trying to figure out how to correctly pronounce WWE as one single word.

But I digress.

On this show, he saw some old dude with saggy old man-tits that made Lowell turn away from the television, but not before the old man with saggy tits used the move on some weird green-haired guy. Tornado. Typhoon. Human Vacuum. They were all the same thing in his mind.

But this move of greatness was called…A Figure Four Leg Lock. He shrugged and gave it a try.

“WHOO! WUH-WE!” The Endorser screamed into the sky before grabbing onto Sharp's leg and applying a halfway decent Figure Four.

And apparently, we’ve all been fans of this Wuh-We for many, many years. You scare us, Mr. Dot Com. You scare us all.

The referee asked Sharp if he wanted to tap out from the sheer force of the excruciating old school maneuver, but Andy shook his head and pounded a fist into the mat slowly, trying to rev himself up to power out of the hold, but Lowell would have none of it.

“Do you give?” the ref asked him again.

“YES!”

ZUH?!?!

“I was talking to ANDY.” The referee sternly pointed out.

“Fuck him!” Lowell shouted. “This guy is about as exciting as one of those guys on Wuh-We’s green show…the one with all those ugly, horrendous things called jobbers!”

“Velocity?”

“THAT ONE! Oh, yeah. YAHOO! DO YOU YAHOO?!”

…Goddamn it. Andy, break out of the hold, please. I’ll give you a cookie.

Well, lo and behold, the next thing to come were the sounds of the fans getting behind Andy as he slowly turned on his side and rolled Lowell over, reversing the Figure Four and sending shivers of pain up through Lowell’s body.

After a bit of torture of his own, Andy fought back to his feet.

“I swear, a Goddamn television throws out less slogans and jingles than you do!” Andy fired at him as he crawled to his feet while favoring the leg that Lowell did a number on. Lowell, too, climbed to his feet and threw a punch at Andy, but Andy blocked it and threw a right hand of his own. He pelted him with a few more shots before whipping him to the ropes. Andy, deciding to fight through the pain of his left knee right now, ran to the second rope and flew off, executing a well-placed twisting cross body onto Lowell, going for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

SHOULDER!

Andy picked Lowell up by his arm and pounded into it with a few errant kicks before twisting the arm around and throwing a hard hook kick that sent The Human Advertising Machine flying backwards into the turnbuckle overlooking the announce tables. Andy saw his chance to get back in this as a smile etched across his face. He rushed across the ring and fans cheered as he ran at full speed, flying in and slamming all 240 pounds of his body right into Lowell with a hard STINGER SPLASH!

The One Who Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest let out a roar of approval to the fans before grabbing a dazed and confused Lowell underneath his arms…

RYDEEN BOMB!

Instead of going for the cover, Andy bounced off the ropes and came back…STANDING SHOOTING STAR PRESS~!

ONE!

TWO!

KICK OUT!

The incredible feat of athleticism was met with a loud pop from the Detroit fans, though Andy ignored it to continue the punishment of Lowell. He picked him up and attempted a vertical suplex, but the wily bastard known as The Webmaster by nobody other than himself threw a hard boot into Andy’s knee, preventing him from inflicting further punishment.

Lowell, now with a chance to get momentum back on his side, threw a hard thumb into the eye of Andy in order to try and shake off the earlier onslaught that Andy had used to wreak havoc on his body. Back in the game now, Andy tried for a standing spin kick, but Lowell ducked and grabbed him by the head, DRIVING him down into a brutal neckbreaker across his shoulder before colliding with the mat at a sickening angle.

Smiling at this turn of events, Lowell climbed atop Andy, looking for the win in his ACW PPV Debut.

ONE!

TWO!

KICK OUT!

Lowell grabbed Andy by his knee and connected with a sharp Hennig Kneebreaker, further damaging the knee in the process. And as Andy grabbed his leg, now searing in pain, Lowell hopped onto the second turnbuckle and smiled like a jackass, cupping his hands over his mouth.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?!?!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Yeah, that earned him no love from the fans at ringside that could hear him. He flew off and actually connected with a well-placed fist drop right into The Canadian Cavalier’s leg, making Andy shout out with a scream.

“GOOD!”

Lowell grabbed Sharp by the waist and hammered down on his back with a hard series of forearms before executing a waistlock. He lifted Andy up and SPIKED him into the mat once again with a hard Delayed German Suplex, caving Andy’s head into his body, thus killing him the process.

Okay, not really.

While that WOULD be cool, I enjoy ACW and wouldn’t really like my character killed off, so there you go.

He confidently stood to his feet and with both hands on his hips, placed one foot on Andy’s chest for the pin.

ONE!

TWO…KICKOUT!

Andy was still in this one, but he couldn’t take too many more of those shots to the skull in order for Lowell to execute his patented Selling Point maneuver, a double underhook brainbuster. Not just that, but the leg of Andy couldn’t have been doing him any favors.

Feeling that victory was finally within his grasp, Lowell grabbed Andy by the hair and pulled him to his knees, but not before throwing a hard knee across Sharp’s jaw, stunning him long enough to be forced to succumb to yet another Lowell tidbit.

“You…do…NOT…parody Lowell! Only LOWELL may parody LOWELL…no, wait,” he glanced around. “I AM Lowell! Dot Com! Yeah…bitch!”

And the next big maneuver that he had on his plate?

URAKEN~!…or not.

The Canadian Cavalier ducked the move!

He threw a hard foot into Lowell’s chest as he completed the turn, but alas! The Webmaster held onto Lowell’s leg and smiled.

“HA-HA!” LDC shouted triumphantly. “Your kicks! They do nothing!”

Well, except for a little something called a fucking DRAGON WHIP, you blue-haired whore! And on that note, the high-impact kick across Lowell’s temple sent what was left of his brains to Mars where Lowell and his whole fucking family were probably from in the first place.

Sharp hooked the leg and made the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THR--SHOULDER!

Lowell shook his head wildly from side to side as if he were Hulk Hogan in the midst of one of his famous comebacks and slowly rose to his feet. Sharp, watching this with a bemused smirk on his face, took a few steps back to give his adversary room. Lowell reached a vertical base and turned slowly around. His eyes widened and he stared down the Canadian Cavalier. His finger shot out as he pointed to Sharp and shouted, "YOU!"

Sharp smiled and hit the Human Advertising Machine with a super kick. Lowell stiffened up and fell backwards to the mat.

Andy stood, again, and brought Lowell to his feet, before tossing him into the ropes. Lowell returned, and Sharp lifted him up and dropped him throat-first down across the top rope. LDC staggered backwards, and Sharp took to the apron, and sprung off the top rope with a Clothesline, something that he calls "Sharp As A Tact!"

Lowell flipped backwards following being hit with the move and landed sickeningly on the top of his head, popping the crowd. Now, that is what some would call an unsafe bump, and with Lowell being the couch potato that he is, he's probably not all that bendy. That means there's a strong possibility that what you just saw was Lowell getting his neck broken in half. Lowell remained in that "I tried to suck my own dick and got stuck this way :(" pose until Sharp nudged him with his foot and jarred him from the position.

Pulled to his feet, Lowell could barely stand, his legs were rubber and his brain... mush. LDC wobbled to and fro, completely out of it, as Sharp looked out to the crowd, and at Lowell, and then spun a 360 into a devastating Clothesline. This time Lowell landed on his stomach.
Andy got up, seemingly off balance from all the damage that'd been done to his knee, and smiled. "Always gotta' finish what I start, Lowell buddy," he said, and bent down to pat him gently on the head.

With that done, Andy saw fit to continue his onslaught. He grabbed Lowell and stood him up. He placed him in a front face lock and hooked the leg ala a Fisherman Suplex. But this was no ordinary Fisherman Suplex. This was no ordinary Fisherman anything! This was the SPINNING Fisherman Suplex, which really did nothing but dizzy both Lowell and Sharp, but it looks cool and that's really all that matters.

Lowell's body impacted with the canvas and the crowd popped HARD. Like... Actually, I'm drawing a blank analogy wise right now, so I'm just gonna' reitterate that it was HARD and it was LOUD. Every seat in the arena was empty because every fan was on their feet, counting along with the referee.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THR-OOOOH!"

That "OOOOH!" part means the Webmaster was sadly able to kick out. And so Sharp got up and grabbed two handfuls of Lowell's hair. He walked LDC over to the nearest corner and tossed him in. Lowell sunk into the corner and clutched it, all the while childishly kicking at Andy to keep him from advancing.

"GIMME MY LEG BACK, WHORE!" screamed Lowell. Sharp had caught one of his kicks in the stomach and was not letting go. Sharp kicked him in the thigh, trying to knot up the muscle, and this prompted Lowell to cry out, "NO! NO! NOT MY THIGH! DON'T YOU KNOW IT'S THE MOST IMPORTANT MUSCLE IN THE BODY!"

Sharp dragged him from the corner, and as Lowell was in the process of pushing to a vertical base, roundhouse kicked him in the head. LDC staggered away, lost his footing, and dropped to his knees. Luckily for him, he was against the ropes, and had the wherewithal to perform a low bridge. However, Sharp held on and landed on the apron, and before Lowell could spin around and hit him with a forearm, Sharp leaned over, grabbing himself some of Lowell's blue hair, and snapped him to the mat!

The ring shook from the force of the mat slam variant, and Sharp calmly stepped through the ropes again, stalking after Lowell, who was in the midst of rolling. Not to the outside, just... around. Yeah, it was kind of strange watching a fully grown man rolling around like that.

Sharp ran, dropping all of his body weight down onto Lowell with a senton splash. He was quick to his feet. Lowell stood up and chopped an advancing Sharp across the chest out of pure desperation. Immediately after, though, Lowell bent at the waist and began panting and gasping for air. Lowell's not exactly known for having lengthy matches... Or any matches at all, for that matter. So obviously he was a little blown up by this point in the match; a little tuckered out. But that's okay, all he needs is that one Selling Point - just one Selling Point and the match'll be over.

And with this burned into his brain, the Human Advertising Machine lethargically booted Sharp in the mid-section to set up what would come next.

Or what should have come next - Lowell's sexy Double-Underhook Brainbuster - had Andy not countered with a Back Body Drop, much to the delight of the crowd. Andy crouched Rock-style as he waited for Lowell to get to his feet.

EXPLODER POWERSLAM!

Whatever you wanna' call it it spelt the end of Lowell's short comeback, and one very enthusiastic pin attempt by Andy Sharp, hooking both legs.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE--NO!

At the last possible second, LDC kicked out, and the crowd deflated with a long, droning "Ah!". Sharp rolled off him and got to his feet. He followed with a jumping Shelton Benjamin-esque Clothesline to the one man on ACW's roster who could enter a Smurf look-a-like contest and maybe win second or third place. Not first, though. Lowell's too much of a fucking loser to win anything THAT cool.

The Calgary native whipped the Sellout into the corner and charged in, first hitting a Stinger Splash and then a Bulldog to top it off. Sharp grabbed Lowell by the leg and turned him so he was in position for one of his many high-risk moves. He stepped out onto the apron and walked across to the turnbuckle post, climbing it to the top. Once perched, Andy took a second to measure the distance between he and Lowell, and…

CORKSCREW MOONSAU--KNEES, BITCH!

Upon impacting his stomach with the knees of the self-proclaimed Czar of Cashflow, Andy Sharp unintentionally rolled out of the ring in the midst of selling the tremendous pain in his torso. Lowell Dot Com followed after him, exiting the ring to inflict more punishment. He walked with a limp, and kicked an off-balance Sharp in the chest. Andy staggered backwards into the ring steps, and Lowell casually took hold of his head and rammed it into the post. His head ricocheted off, and Sharp took a few steps before immitating the Flair Flop on the concrete floor.

Weakened to the point that his arms hung limp at his sides, Lowell chose to steal a ringside fan’s drink rather than roll Sharp back in the ring for the win. The bitter liquid emptied from the small plastic cup into his mouth, and Lowell gagged and threw it to the ground. “Someone arrest this man! He spiked whatever it was that I just drank!”

The fan laughed, and replied, “It’s called BEER you moron.”

“Shuddap your face! Don’t make the Czar slapz you!” shouted a drunken Lowell Dot Com, as he unleashed the aforemention slap. He missed, and the momentum of his arm being swung caused his entire body to spiral into the floor like a drill. In a heap, he laughed hysterically between alcohol-induced hiccups.

I guess that answers the question as to whether or not Lowell drinks as well as sniffs a lil’ snow every now and then. Come on, all those Hollywood-types do it! And Lowell is perhaps the biggest wannabee Hollywood-type of them all; of course he’s into that shit!

Sharp lifted himself to his knees. His head throbbed internally and he was hardly able to see straight as he stood and walked toward Lowell. He tossed him into the guard rail, and Lowell impacted the steel causing it to clatter and rock unsteadily. Point of fact, it looked and sounded brutal.

Arms down and chest open, Lowell felt each stinging chop swoop in and connect. He crossed his arms to protect his sternum and thumbed his attacker in the eye. Temporarily blinded, Sharp was unable to avoid the steady barrage of fists, and was left dazed and confused.

Lowell charged forward and speared his two hundred and forty pound adversary into the side of the ring. Sharp collapsed, a shudder of agony travelled up his spine and he stay knelt on the floor unmoving and grasping his lower back.

“I’m the GREATEST! And I don’t even give a damn about this wrestling shit!” yelled a confident Lowell He knelt down in front of Andy and spat in his face. “Save that, kid… At the right I’m going it might be worth something some day! People love that sort of shit on E-Bay! I know- I bought a jar of Neil Diamond’s urine for, like, three hundred bucks!”

The boos intensified, as Lowell cruely soccer kicked him in the ribs and shoved him back into the ring. Andy crawled toward the center, but the Shillmaster stalked up from behind and sat down on his aching back. He pulled back his arm onto unnatural angles. LDC locked his hands underneath Sharp’s chin and pulled back with all his might. He’d unknowingly applied a text-book Camel Clutch!

Lowell then somehow managed to cunningly mutate the Camel Clutch into some sort of Super Camel Clutch! He placed a knee in the small of the back and slipped his hands down across Andy’s throat in an effort to choke him out.

The referee saw this and immediately demanded that he break the hold. “Come on, Lowell, don’t make me disqualify you!” To which Lowell replied: “Disqualify me!? DISQUALIFY ME!? Go right ahead! I’ll even ring the bell for you if you’d like!”

Lowell pushed to his feet and grabbed the referee by the collar. He screamed, “YOU WANNA’ DQ ME, ZEBRA! GO ON! HAND ME THE FUCKIN’ HAMMER AND I’LL DO IT, MYSELF! COME ON, THEN, STRIPES, LET’S DO THIS!

TEXT LIFE, BITCH! THAT’S JUST HOW I ROLL!”

Referees… They take a lot of shit. The one calling this match- he’s been thrown around, hit in the head with chairs, sandwiched in corners, and even felt up once (I know, poor guy, huh?)… But the one thing he wasn’t about to let slide was for some obnoxious, blue-haired freak to grab him by the shirt and scream a bunch of trife’ in his face.

And so he shoved Lowell. Hard.

Into the awaiting clutches of one pissed off Andy Sharp.

POWER HOIST!

The Walking Billboardl landed on his stomach, which drove the air from his lungs. Sharp quickly picked him up in a front face lock. He draped the arm over his shoulder and lifted the former fWo star in the air upside down. He let the blood rush to the head before spiking him down into the canvas. The crowd jumped out of their seats and cheered for Sharp as he circled around to hook the far leg and lean into it for a back-style pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE--NO!

The Endorsor rolled his shoulder off the mat just enough to break the pin count and struggled to a knee as Andy rolled off and pushed onto his feet. He yanked Lowell the rest of the away up, grabbed his wrist and Irish whipped him into the corner. Lowell hadn’t turned as he flew into it and hit shoulder-first. His head whipped back violently, and he spun into the corner, arms draped unvoluntarilly over the top rope.

Andy scooped him up as if he were attempting a body slam, and placed him in the Tree of Woe. Sharp took to the other side of the ring and raised an arm to the crowd. He sprinted across the ring and slid his feet into Lowell’s face. The bottoms of his boots connected with a smack that reverberated throughout the arena and received a mad pop from the crowd.

Lowell untangled his feet from the rope and dropped with a thud and an “Ompff”. With the advantage clearly his, Sharp stood Lowell up and pelted him in the face with forearm after forearm, before switching to straight up fists. Andy slugged him in the face and his knuckles turned pink and then red, until soon blood began to seep from shredded flesh. Lowell was puddy, now, ready to be worked however Andy liked.

Sharp helped Lowell regain his footing, made sure his stance was secure, and with a smile on his face, he slapped him. He slapped him so hard Lowell was nearly KO’d. He watched with a smirk as Lowell seemed to dance on the spot, back and forth, unable to steady the ship. Andy shrugged, and gave him the Complete Shot from out of nowhere, planting LDC face-first into the mat! The fans roared with approval, and counted with the ref as Andy made the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE! NO!

Without a moment’s thought, Andy was already in the midst of setting Lowell up for a Running Liger Bomb. For you uneducated fucks out there, that’s a Running Sit-Out Powerbomb. D’Lo use to do a good one untill he fucked up Droz’s neck. Anyway… As Sharp readied Lowell for what could’ve been the finish of the match, the slippery Lowell Dot Com was cooking something up in his head.

He always has an ace up his sleeve. And more than likely his pantleg too.

Lowell pulled free of the standing head scissors and turned to run, but Sharp grabbed him by the Pride of Madison Avenue – the Blue Crew (and though it’s far too straggily to be called a Crew Cut, it sounds cool so shut up) – and made sure he wasn’t going anywhere. Atleast that’s what he thought.

The dreaded NUT SHOT~! The old ‘boot through the legs of wrestle B as wrestle A is turned in the opposite direction’ had shifted the match in Lowell’s favour once again. He grabbed Andy and bent him over. He double-underhooked the arms and hoisted him in the air.

THE SELLING POINT! THE COVER!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

…

Just kidding. Only a two and ¾. It was close though!

Lowell pounded the canvas with his fist, and screamed to the rafters, “WHYYYYYY! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! JUST LET ME BEAT THIS CHUMP SO I CAN GO HOME AND PLAY FUCKING HALO 2! GOD DAMNIT!”

He jumped to his feet and dragged The One Who Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (what a silly nickname…) closer to the ropes, before stepping out onto the apron. He grasped the top rope with both hands, took a look around, projecting his toothy grin in all directions – North, South, East, West, whatever! – leaned back, and yelled: “Subway! Eat Fresh... like how this idiot in the ring eats fresh assholes!”

He springboarded off the top rope with a Kidman-like Shooting Star Press, meaning he didn’t draw his knees into his chest like Paul London would, but simply flipped backwards as he was sailed across the ring. In Lowell terminology, this is known as the

POST APOCALYPTIC SHILL!

Crash and burn! Crash and burn!! Lowell you dumb fuck! You REALLY shit the bed on this one!

Andy rolled out of harm’s way just in time, and the Shillin’ Villain crashed (and burned, yes, we’ve already established that-) into the canvas. He rolled around uncontrollably, writhing in pain and screaming profanities – this time, however, they weren’t censored for all of us who don’t speak ‘nerd’. Just straight up ‘fucks’, ‘shits’, and ‘cunts’.

And between the time it took for Lowell to slam into the canvas and for him to stop crying like a little girl and stay still, Andy Sharp, the Canadian Cavalier, the rising star of ACW, the lanky sonuvabitch from Pikeville, KY, whatever you wanna’ call him, had climbed the ladder… the turnbuckle closest to Lowell’s downed body.

He’d taken a chance once before in the match and it hadn’t paid off. This time, however, it would.

THE UNNECESSARY RISK!

Andy had stuck the 450 Splash! He hooked the leg… Nodding enthusiastically with each thump of the referee’s hand as it struck the mat…

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

'Cult Of Personality' by Living Colour.

He’d done it.

CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR~!

And that would be the sounds of many of the Detroit fans blowing up after the conclusion to this hard-fought match-up between two of ACW's newest stars.

Not to mention...The very first win in ACW for Andy Sharp.

"YEAH~!" He pumped a fist into the sky and screamed emphatically before hopping onto his feet, looking down at Lowell.

"...AND SHADDAP, BITCH~!"

And on that note, Andy climbed out of the ring.

Sore.

Tired.

But a winner.

Winner > Andy Sharp

ACW UNITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP
God's Forgotten Son[c] v. Sars The Clown

Hey remember about a week and a half ago, when Sars spilled a choco-dildo cake on the duffel bag of one- God Forgotten's Son? Well, if you don't that's too bad because we're going to pretend that you did. So you better just make with the head nodding.

Well...needless to say GFS didn't appreciate that much, nor did he appreciate it when Sars hit him in the back of the dome with a steel chair. So of course, you know that leads to a match later on in the night. Because this is wrestling and what else are they going to do? Have a beat-off contest?

(Note to self: Start a Masturbation league.)

What happened? Oh right.

Sars cheats and then wins via Petey William's Canadian Crusher + Sexual grind.

Sick, right?

Yeah.

So, in typical wrestling fashion we are led here. At breakOUT.

U.S title grudge match.

God's Forgotten Son vs. Sars the Clown.

"Byte Your Rhymes" by Mindless Self Indulgence

Enter: Sars the Clown.

Cue: Sars dropping his wrestling tights and coming out through the curtains ass-first.

Sars slipped and fell as he tried to walk backwards down the ramp for MAXIUM viewage of his "rosy buttocks". This started up a fierce round of booing followed by trash throwing, trash which - MIGHT I ADD, stuck to Sars's ass.

"Wet trash on the ass baby. That's hate. EH YO, WHY YALL HATIN ON ME?"

More boos.

Can't compete with that. A deflated Sars pulled his tights up and started his way down the ramp and into the ring. The ref eyeballed the Clown rolling into the ring looking all goofy and shit. This was the same ref from the GFS/Sars match at Courage 69 and this time he wasn't going to let the Clown pull anything crafty.

"Immortality" by Pearl Jam

And out came God's Forgotten Son, finger pointed at Sars in a very serious manner. Sars looked around and pointed at himself. GFS frowned and made his way down the ramp ready to get revenge.

Both wrestlers stood across from each other. GFS stared deep into Sars's eyes with intent to maim. Sars did everything in his power to not look at GFS.

The ref checked the wrestlers and then nodded to the bell keeper.

**DING DING**

The match started. The match started and Sars still wasn't paying attention - he seemed to be preoccupied with this booger in his nose. Pulling it out with a thick string of snot attached, the clown wiped it on the mat - a complete disrespect for the ring and this match. The crowd booed and GFS just gritted his teeth. Sars looked around and suddenly realized the match started.

"Oh crap. Fine. Let's go." Sars said getting himself into a ready position.

He wanted to do the old test of the strength.

But seeing as how Sars just had his right hand completely up his left nostril, you can understand why GFS gave him a kick to the midsection. The lock up was standard follow up. GFS's intensity and power forced Sars back into the turnbuckle. Another boot to the midsection followed up by; SLAP!! (woo!) SLAP!! (woo!!) SLAP!! (woo!!) - Flair chops. Grabbing the clown's hair GFS pulled Sars out of the turnbuckle and drove him face first into this knee. Then wretching his head back...he quickly chained into a chin-lock. With the clown already trying to squirm out - GFS added a knee to the back - then turned the chin lock into a surfboard stretch.

For whatever reason (don't shoot the messenger) Sars began full on crying much to the concern of the ref. His crying turned into deep sobbing and soon no one quite knew what to make of the performance.

GFS did.

He released the hold and slapped Sars in the back of the head.

Sars shot up.

"OUCH BITCH! That hurt." Sars screamed turning to face GFS.

GFS looked to go for a lock up but Sars shot 'em a quick thumb to the eye. GFS swung mean right-handed roaring elbow in retaliation which Sars ducked and countered with an atomic drop. GFS bounced off of Sars' knee holding his buttocks and Sars just push-kicked him square in the tights causing him to bounce off the ropes into a german-suplex w/ bridge.

1.

2.

Kickout~!

GFS and Sars sprung up at about the same time. The clown charged with a lariat - ducked by GFS who bounced off the ropes and came running at Sars. Sars telegraphed for the back body drop but got a kick in the face causing his head to shoot up. GFS then cleverly kicked him with the other foot causing the clown to stoop over again, GFS locked up and planted Sars’ back into the canvas with a fisherman's suplex pin.

1, 2, GFS rolls...lifts...yet another fisherman's suplex.

1, 2, rolls again and plants Sars, yet again, with another fishermen's suplex.

1, 2, "Errrughhhh." GFS strains...rolls...lifts...stalls.

Clapping from the audience.

Sars’ head is drilled into the mat with a fishermen's brainbuster.

The crowd goes crazy as GFS flexes out of anger in the ring. He quickly slides in for the pin.

1.

2.

Thr-KICK OUT.

"Come on, get up." GFS spat pulling the clown to his feet. Sars panics and grabs the sides of GFS's face and cracks his chin on the top of his green head. Boot to the midsection. Double Underhook Backbreaker. Sars pulls GFS to his feet and whips him into the turnbuckle hard. GFS stumbles out punch-drunk and walks right into a righteous back brain kick!

GFS rolled all over the canvas with his hands on the back of his head trying to soothe the sting. Sars quickly ran towards the adjacent turnbuckle, quickly scrambled up to the top and....

...mooned the crowd?

Some laughed, most literally booed the shit OUT of his ass. (He farted) And somewhere backstage Kelly was cursing. He told him *not* to goof off. And of course, by the time Sars decided to attempt a guillotine leg drop, GFS was strong enough to simply move out of the way. Sars bopped down ass-first and GFS countered with a drop kick to the face so tremendous in force that Sars’ head hit the canvas and bounced him back up to sitting position.

Which just got him another drop kick to the face.

GFS climbed to the top rope and connected with an asai moonsault.

Follow up pin...

1.

2.

KICKOUT.

Crowd: Booooo!!

Sars is pulled up by GFS again but the clown luckily catches a wrist and twists it, putting the US champ in a standing wristlock. Still holding GFS's wrist...Sars makes his way to the turnbuckle-climbs it and goes Undertaker on the ACW-fans...walking the ropes...

Simple fist to the arm?

No.

Sars gets that evil toothy grin and jumps...!!

TO THE OUTSIDE.

The ropes bend due to the force of GFS's body wieght. His arm? Touches the apron just as Sars’ feet hit the floor. Holy shit chants were abound and the moment Sars let go - GFS was bounced a few feet backwards.

Sars looked as GFS squirming in the ring and proclaimed. "FUCK THIS. I WIN."

Sars then nonchalantly hopped over the barrier and kicked a kid's father who didn't even *like* wrestling right out of his seat.

"My dad!" the angry boy yelled.

"SHADDAP I AM YOUR NEW FATHER NOW." Sars yelled. Kicking his feet up on the barrier he said: "NOW TIME TO WATCH THE OTHER MATCHES."

The ref wasn't having any of this shit. You want to throw the match, throw the match fine...but stealing the seats of ACW fans? No way. The ref raises his hand to call for a DQ, but another hand grabbed his.

God's Forgotten Son.

"No. Don't. I'll finish this."

GFS slid out of the ring still holding his arm. "Come on you fucking clown, let’s finish this!"

Sars spit out a drink that he obviously stole and screamed in a girlish voice, "YOU HAVETA CATCH MEEH."

And with that GFS chased Sars around and around the outside of the ring. The clown then actually went as far as to sneak *under* the ring, trying desperately to get away. GFS would have none of it as he grabbed the clown’s leg and dragged him out. He buried some forearms into the clown's back before pulling him up and nailing him with some forearm blows. SMACK. SMACK. Face twice-off the apron. CRASH~! Thrown carelessly into the steel step. GFS slips back in and breaks the ring-out count.

Sars his barely getting to his feet when GFS catches him with shining wizard. Irish whip to the barrier. SLAP!! (woo!!) SLAP!! (woo!!) SLAP!! - more chops. Sars’ back cracks horribly as GFS whips him into the apron. The US champ jumped up onto the apron and forced Sars to climb up there with him via pulling the crap out of his hair. GFS setSars up for a suplex, lifted, and hung him out to dry stomach-first across the ropes.

GFS left him there as he ducked the ropes and entered the ring.

GFS grabbed Sars around the waist with him still hung up on the ropes. He lifted.

Stalled.

And drove Sars neck-first into the canvas with a German Suplex.

GFS sprung up to the cheering of the crowd and looked ready to end it. Sars, however was now up on his knees *begging* for GFS to spare him.

Oh no.

Wait a sec.

No. Don't fall for it, GFS.

The crowd starts warning him in advance. Looks like it'll be Courage 69 all over again.

OH DAMN~!

Concealed low-blow!

Or not.

The arm comes up, but GFS puts his legs together. Sars was expecting the sensation of crushed nuts but instead he got a knee to the jaw.

God's Forgotten Son pulled Sars up and put him in a piledriver set-up with his arms behind his back.

This was it.

Selfless Retribution.

Sars was spiked ceremoniously into the canvas with GFS's lethal finisher.

GFS went for the pin.

1.

2.

3.

Your winner and still champ, God's Forgotten Son.

"Kelly's not going to like this." uttered a disappointed Mr. Manager as he watched the monitor.

Winner > Gods Forgotten Son

ACW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP
TheNormans[c] Vs Splink

Tick

Tick

Tick

BOOM!

Radio Edit. By Sweat Shop Union awakened the crowd, as they quickly left there seats, to begin there attack on theNormans with unwelcoming gestures. TheNormans for once, choose to ignore the hatred that they were receiving, as they journey down towards the ring, keeping there eyes focus on one thing, and that was the ladder, which had been placed outside the ring.

Both theNormans had there titles tightly sealed around there waist, as the beautiful Ashley Norman trailed behind them.

TheNormans entered the ring, and pass there titles to the referee of the night, who placed both titles on the wire, as both Normans eye watched slowly as the titles were lifted up.

The quickly turned to each other and began going over there plan, as the crowds response quickly changed.

As The Challengers, better known as Splink made there way out from the back and down towards the ring.

Splink!

Splink!

Splink!

The crowd chanted, as Splink took it in as if they were gods themselves. The did not waste to much time making it to the ring like they usually would do, but then didn’t expect to see what happened next.

Trevor and Donavon both charged, and leaped over the top rope, coming down on both members of Splink with suicide dives.

Trevor Hit Slapnutz, and Donavon hit TMM.

The Bell made its sound, as the match was know underway.

Donavon grabbed TMM and slammed him hard into the guardrail back first, following up with a few Knife Edge Chops, as Trevor did the exact same thing to Slapnutz. Donavon picked TMM up and dropped him throat first on the guardrail; TMM grabbed his throat, as Donavon was not going to let up one bit as he Irish whipped TMM right into the ring post.

TMM bounced off the post with much power, as he landed on his back on the floor.

Donavon turned and looked at Trevor as he signalled for Trevor to throw Slapnutz his way. Trevor listened and Irish whipped Slapnutz right into Donavon who hit a spine buster right on the steel of the ramp. Slapnutz clenched his back, as theNormans both grabbed Slapnutz and brought him to his feet and hit a double team hanging suplex on the ramp.

Slapnutz back was quickly turning red, as he tried slowly crawling away from theNormans.

TheNormans grabbed the legs of Slapnutz and pulled them apart, as the both at the same time brought there heel down hard in Slapnutz Favour part of his body. The crowd reacted as if they could feel the pain going threw Slapnutz.

TheNormans really wanted to put Splink out of action, and out of there spotlight, they had worked so hard for.

Donavon tapped Trevor and signalled for him to grab the ladder; Trevor just nodded his head in agreement and turned around.

SMACK

The ladder nailed Trevor right in the chest, as TMM came charging at both theNormans. Donavon tried to get out of the way, but was not able too, as TMM chucked the ladder right into the face of Donavon. TMM began stomping on both theNormans, as Slapnutz got to his feet, still in pain, as began his attack on Trevor; the crowd reacted at the turn of events.

TMM picked up Donavon, and quickly slammed him head first into the ramp with DDT, as Slapnutz charged at Trevor who was trying to get away and hit a bulldog.

Slapnutz picked Trevor back up, and Irish whipped him into the steel steps.

TMM body slammed Donavon onto the ladder, as he called out for his partner, who made a charge up the ramp.

Slapnutz leaped over TMM, who help push him up into the air more, coming down hard with a splash on Donavon.

Slapnutz rolled off Donavon in a bit of pain, as TMM dropped down onto Donavon with a leg drop.

Slapnutz picked up the ladder, as TMM follow as the head back down towards the ring. With both Normans down, this was the best chance for them to go for the titles, and end the match.

The Crowd cheered, as they chanted Splink threw out the arena, as both members of Splink entered the ring and set the ladder up in the middle of the ring, as they both began to climb the ladder for the titles.

They had almost made it, except they forgot about Trevor who leaped off the top rope hitting the ladder with a missile drop kick sending both members of Splink outside the ring, and crash hard on to the floor.

Trevor slowly repositioned the ladder as he took a quick breath and slowly began to climb it.

CRACK!

Slapnutz had gotten back into the ring, nailed Trevor in the back with a chair, and then got behind him and power bombed him off the ladder down to the canvas floor. Slapnutz looked up, but it was not what he hoped for.

CRACK!

Donavon smacked Slapnutz right in the forehead with the chair, knocking him right out.

Donavon dropped the chair, and looked down at his brother, then at Slapnutz, and then at TMM who was still on the outside not moving, as he looked over at Ashley who was slamming her hands on the ring apron, for Donavon to go for the titles.

Donavon started to climb up the ladder, as TMM slowly began to pull himself back into the ring.

TMM slowly made his way over, and began climbing the other side of the ladder. Both men climbed there way up the ladder until they were at the top, and began to through weak ass punches at each other.

TMM finally blocked one of the punches, as he grabbed the back of Donavon head and slammed it hard into the ladder, almost making him fall off. TMM grabbed Donavon and pulled him off the ladder and slamming him into the mats with a weird looking one-arm slam.

Donavon back hit the steel chair, as he lay on the canvas not moving.

All four men never moved, as the referee checked on each one of them.

The crowd waited to see who would get up first, as the watched TMM reach out, grab onto the ladder, and pull himself up the ladder.

The crowd cheered, as TMM crawled up the ladder slowly, as Trevor and slapnutz started to get up on there feet.

Slapnutz charged and speared Trevor out of the ring, as TMM grabbed onto both the titles, and with one big pull, the title became free.

The Crowd reacted, as the referee signalled for the bell.

TMM stood at the top of the ladder and held up both tag team titles, as Slapnutz made his way up the other side of the ladder grabbing the other title.

Splink had done it; they were the new ACW Tag Team Champions. 

Winner > SPLINK!

ACW TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP
Fejona Min[c] vs. Seymour Almasy vs. Kelly Flawless

“Fight With Seymour” by The Black Mages played, as it so often did when “The Final Fantasy” Seymour Almasy came down to the ring. He slapped hands with some fans as he walked down the aisle, but it was a less fun-loving Almasy who stepped into the ring.

Understandable, of course. He wanted Fejona Min’s title.

But as he stretched and prepared in the ring, another man that wanted the TV Championship emerged from the back.

Kelly Flawless.

“The Cover of the Rolling Stone” by Dr. Hook signaled the arrival of the physical specimen, perfectly white teeth gleaming in the lights of the arena. In his mind, this was his night. The night that he would capture the gold that would look so…perfect wrapped around his well-toned waist.

Of course, there was a woman who really didn’t want to see EITHER of their ambitions come to fruition.

“Lucky You” by the Deftones played. Soon, Fejona Min was striding down the ramp way, with only the Television Title over her shoulder.

For the Television and Scorpion Fighting belts had been unified. There simply weren’t enough fighters in ACW to warrant the latter.

But the most dangerous of them all, the last of their breed, still had a firm deathgrip on the Television Title.

Flawless and Almasy watched her warily as she slid into the ring and raised the title in the air. Each man wanted the ten pounds of gold…yet so much stood in their way.

The Cambodian Femme Fatale calmly threw a couple of warm-up kicks, as her strategy seemed clear.

She would try to literally kick the crap out of people.

Kelly Flawless would use his superior size and power to break both opponents in half.

As for Seymour Almasy?

He hoped he’d come up with something before the bell rang.

*DING!*

Oops, too late.

Fejona took advantage of Seymour’s indecision, crossing the ring quickly and connecting with a flying sidekick that sent Seymour all the way over the top rope to the ring floor before he quite knew what hit him.

Sucky way for him to begin, huh?

Kelly Flawless’ jaw dropped momentarily, but he quickly recovered as he spotted Min coming at him, trying the same thing.

Fuck that.

Flawless side-stepped and caught her, driving her hard into the mat with a variation of the time-honored Bossman slam, driving the air from Fejona’s body. Flawless smirked. It couldn’t be THIS easy, could it?

He covered.

One.

Two.

Kickout.

Nope, wouldn’t be that easy.

Flawless picked Fejona back up, but Min jarred him with a quick kick to the abdomen. It didn’t do much damage, but it caught the larger man off guard.

She promptly fired another kick, this one catching him in the shoulder. She was flexible as all hell, but Flawless was still six foot six. A headshot would be difficult.

Slowly, Seymour Almasy began to collect himself on the floor. He shook his head from side to side, trying to recover from the match opening blow.

Finally, he managed to slide back into the ring. Min spotted this immediately, and broke away from Flawless.

Seymour was shorter than even Fejona. And as such, he was much easier to kick in the head.

And that’s exactly what Fejona did.

Well, the kick didn’t QUITE reach the head, but the intention was there. Seymour managed to half-duck the blow, while reaching his arms up, catching the kick as it sailed overhead, and turning with Fejona’s momentum

Seymour yanked hard and stepped back, causing Fejona to lose her balance, and with that Seymour had the ankle lock applied.

A slightly panicked Fejona tried to scramble for the ropes, but she soon found one of Flawless’ boots drilled into her head. Seymour took the opportunity to drop down, and cinch in a heel hook, as Flawless continued to stomp away.

The Final Fantasy wrenched on the hold with all he had, while Flawless calmly leapt in the air and dropped a leg across the back of Min’s neck.

Fejona was being dissected, plain and simple. She shut her eyes due to the pain, trying desperately to hold on. Finally, Min could take no more. She had been in the hold more than a minute and a half thanks to Flawless keeping her from the ropes with his constant blows. She threw a hand out, ready to submit, and it was only then that Flawless drove a hard boot into Almasy’s head to break the hold.

Kelly smiled. It really was a Flawless strategy. Let Almasy work over the leg, keep Fejona in agony as long as possible without jeopardizing the contest. Now, the champion was gimpy, which would hinder her gameplan and augment his.

For now though, Flawless focused on Seymour, and shot him into a corner with incredible force. He followed immediately, charging into the corner with a beautiful avalanche. His hang time caused the crowd to gasp before he finally crushed Seymour into the corner, causing Almasy to stagger out and fall flat on his face.

The Alaskan Timberwolf paused to preen for the crowd. Both of his opponents were now at his mercy. Flawless might have been blonde, but he knew an injured body part when he saw one, and he dragged Fejona Min by her injured right leg to continue the abuse.

Flawless leaped, driving a huge elbow into Fejona’s ankle, prompting more agonized screams. Kelly grinned, and prepared to repeat the action, but Min managed to push up to hands and knees and snap off a left-legged thrust kick to the jaw that staggered Flawless…

…right into a Seymour Almasy schoolboy.

ONE!

Almost immediately, Flawless powered out of the predicament. He looked at Seymour like a spider stares at a fly, before promptly snatching him in the air, and pressing him overhead.

Flawless thought for a moment about where to drop Seymour, as he pressed him up again and again. He considered throwing him out to the floor, but suddenly had a better idea.

He strode the few feet over to where Fejona laid in pain, and calmly dropped Seymour on her.

On her injured ankle, to be precise.

Min howled in pain, as Almasy groaned at the feeling of a boot wedged squarely in his abdomen.

Flawless was in command, but he had one small problem.

He didn’t know how to capitalize on an ankle injury. He WAS blonde, after all. And being a powerhouse, intricate leg work wasn’t part of his usual modus operandi.

So he just decided to yank Fejona Min to her feet and beat her up some more.

Kelly went to grab her by the throat, but Fejona countered with a chop to the throat. She was in a bad way, as she couldn’t put any weight on the bad ankle to throw a kick, and obviously couldn’t kick with the bad wheel.

The chop, however, was enough to stagger Flawless. Almasy stood, and noticed Flawless off balance. He leaped, and caught him with a dropkick, further staggering the blonde man.

Fejona gingerly limped over to Flawless and promptly nailed him with a palm thrust to the chin, knocking him up against the ring ropes.

Almasy saw his chance, and charged, leaping in the air to drive a shoulder high into Kelly Flawless’ chest, sending him over the top rope and to the mat.

Seymour turned around, spotted the limping Fejona, and smiled to himself. Unlike Flawless, he did have moves in his arsenal to work an injured limb. Min, however, didn’t look concerned, facing the Final Fantasy down calmly.

And then, she threw a kick. With the injured leg.

Seymour wasn’t sure if he was seeing things, but he deftly caught the kick, and prepared to turn it into the ankle lock that would win him the ACW Television Title.

But Fejona Min was already airborne.

ENZUGIRI!

Min’s ploy had worked, and Seymour had fallen victim to one of the hardest kicks her good leg could muster. Flawless was on the outside, and Seymour was down.

This was her best chance to win the damn match and get the hell out of breakOUT.

She covered.

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Almasy kicked out at two, prompting a look of mild disappointment on Fejona’s face. Seymour wasn’t going to fall for that again. Her kicking offense was basically negated now.

She applied a front facelock on Seymour as he rose, attempting to drag him back to the mat with a guillotine choke, but he blocked, sprawling out to prevent her from wrapping her legs around his waist to secure the move tighter.

Still, Min was able to tighten the move, and Seymour was forced to stop his sprawl. Before Min could try and yank him back, however, he surged to his feet. Now carrying Min over his shoulder, he charged to the corner and drove her back-first to the turnbuckle.

GAGAZET RUSH!

He spun deftly, and slid Fejona down his back, hooking the head. He was poised to deliver one of his favorite moves, and one that he hoped would end things.

GAGAZET DRIVER!

Almasy fell back onto Min, and hooked a leg.

ONE!


TWO!


KICKOUT!

Min’s shoulder came up off the canvas, and as it did, Almasy rolled down her body, and reached for the bad ankle, trying to come up with the ankle lock again, but Fejona kicked him squarely in the jaw to prevent that occurrence.

As Kelly Flawless re-entered the ring, he saw both down. For whatever reason, he decided to focus on Almasy. He lifted Seymour to his feet, wrapped both hands around Seymour’s throat, and sent him crashing to the mat with an IMMENSE Double Choke Bomb.

He thought about covering, but instead, went up to the top rope. Seymour Almasy was down, and Flawless figured that it would be a good idea to end the contest now, so he could go celebrate with his TV Title and some fine ladies.

Blondes, of course.

POMPOUS PERFECTION~!

CONNECTS!

And SPLAT went Seymour Almasy after taking a frog splash from a 280 pounder. Flawless remained on top of his opponent, and calmly hooked a leg.

The perfect ending was in sight, because there was no way in hell that Seymour Almasy was going to kick out.

ONE!


TWO!


THR--FEJONA BREAKS THE COUNT!

Flawless was, needless to say, something less than pleased as Fejona dove with the desperate blow to his back that ended the pinning predicament.

He grabbed Fejona by the wrist, and Irish whipped her across the ring, but her bad ankle forced her to fall before she even reached halfway across the ring.

With the intruder taken care of, Kelly calmly walked back over to Seymour and covered again.

ONE!


TWO!

THR--KICKOUT!

Flawless was now mad. Fejona Min had caused him to not be able to pin Seymour Almasy and take the Television Title.

Forgotten was Seymour Almasy. Kelly Flawless marched over to Min’s downed body, and grabbed her by the hair.

He lifted her in the air, angrily preparing to power bomb her THROUGH the mat for her transgressions. But Min still had enough sense left to fire off a series of hard shots to the face, which stunned Kelly long enough for a…

RANA ROLLUP!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Flawless simply powered free of the predicament, growing angrier and angrier by the minute.

Once again, he grabbed Fejona Min, attempting to do very evil things to her.

This time, it was Seymour Almasy who caught him with a flash pin attempt, this time a schoolboy rollup.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Flawless almost laughed. Surely these two didn’t think that shit was going to win, did they? Almasy charged, attempting a cross body block, but Kelly Flawless caught the lightweight Almasy easily, and pressed him overhead.

GORILLA PRESS!

DROPPED!

INTO SAMOAN DROP~!

Flawless wasted no time. He was already on top of Seymour, so he simply hooked the leg after the impressive move, visions of titles dancing in his head.

ONE!

TWO!

THR--FEJONA SAVES AGAIN!

Min’s ankle was nearly destroyed, but she still willed herself to break the fall. The Television Championship was HERS, and she did not want to lose it. If that meant having to fight defensively, so be it.

Flawless advanced on Fejona yet again, anger crossing the blonde man’s expression. Even perfect people got angry. Especially when a Cambodian bitch prevented them from the glory that was rightly theirs. The referee, as luck would have it, was busy looking at the downed Almasy, allowing for Min to launch her good foot into Kelly’s crotch from her seated position.

“OHHHHHH!”

The predominately male crowd gasped out in sympathy pain. Min smiled quickly, but then realized she didn’t have much of a followup. With her ankle in incredible pain, she decided that she had to try something, and fast.

She winced, closed her eyes, and aimed a knockout shot to Flawless’ head with her bad foot.

*CRACK!*

Flawless dropped to the mat, half-unconscious from the blow, as Fejona screamed in utter agony, grabbing at the ankle desperately. Flawless flopped from the ring, falling out under the bottom rope from the vicious shot. Min looked over at Seymour, still recovering from the incredible press Samoan drop he’d been nailed with by Kelly Flawless.

The time WAS now.

She hopped, literally hopped over to where Seymour was trying to rise, and took him down with a move that she had sworn only to use on him (and Quinton May, but he doesn’t count.)

SAGACITY ‘03!
Fejona rose to a kneeling position, and gave the throat slash, one of the many international signals that The End Is Coming. She stood, limping, cursing in her native tongue as she picked up Seymour, and put him in a Dragon Sleeper. She rained forearms on Seymour’s tender ribcage, before elevating him in the air, and dropping the Final Fantasy on his head with a sitout Tombstone piledriver.

SAGACITY ‘02~!

With that, Fejona Min was out of offense.

She leant forward, grabbed both of Seymour’s legs, and pulled them back. She closed her eyes once more, hoping that when she opened them, the contest would be over.

ONE!


TWO!


….


…


THR--

GERMAN SUPLEX BY KELLY FLAWLESS!

Indeed, Flawless had managed to get in the ring, pull Fejona Min out of her cover, and German Suplex her in one fluid motion. He smirked. FINALLY, it would be over.

He positioned Fejona right where he wanted her, and slowly began to climb to the top rope. Flawless had already used Pompous Perfection. Now, he decided a Blondeton Bomb was in order. He didn’t leap right away, however. He had gloating to do first.

Unfortunately for Flawless, Almasy was rising from the grave, slowly but surely.

Flawless CONTINUED to showboat. He was so sure that Almasy wasn’t going to get up that he even did a little dance on the top turnbuckle. Hey, he’s blonde, it’s not HIS fault.
Almasy began to grab the ropes, pulling himself to his feet strand by strand.

Finally, Flawless decided to jump.

But Almasy had already made his prescence known in the corner. He stepped up to the second rope, and sprung up with a HARD palm thrust that caught Flawless just underneath the chin.

Kelly Flawless staggered on the top rope for several moments, before Seymour managed to give him a hard push.

With that, the title dreams of Flawless died as he crashed, back first, into the unforgiving concrete floor, unconscious.

Seymour slumped to the turnbuckle, exhausted from the contest, and from taking two of Fejona’s deadliest moves. He pondered jumping from his perch to the middle of the top rope for the Ultima, but he wasn’t sure if he could do it after taking the beating that he had.

Almasy jumped down, seeing Fejona rise to her hands and knees, crawling around in confusion. Her ankle was vulnerable.

And with Flawless out of it on the floor, Seymour could finish what he had started.

He maneuvered himself behind Fejona, and darted in, grabbing the ankle and pulling Fejona away from the ropes in the process. She kicked violently with her good leg, but Almasy managed to avoid the wild mule kicks this time, and sunk the ankle lock in.

This time, there would be no escape.

There would be no one to save Fejona.

She momentarily tried to fight the pain, but soon realized that it was futile. Her ankle was already potentially broken. She didn’t need for it to be shattered.

Reluctantly, the former Asylum Women’s Champion tapped the mat three times.

And that, as they say, was that.

*DING DING DING!*

Seymour immediately let go of the hold, and promptly fell back to the canvas in exhaustion.

It was over. And he had won.

The official of record went over to the timekeeper, and retrieved the ACW Television Championship. Walking over to the prone Almasy, he handed the belt to Seymour, and raised the Final Fantasy’s other hand in victory to a rousing ovation from the fans.

The new champion slowly and unsteadily tried to make his way to his feet, balancing the title belt over his shoulder. Finally, he managed to make it back up to a vertical base, and surveyed the carnage.

ACW medical staff was looking at Fejona Min, who angrily tried to keep them at bay. Kelly Flawless was just coming to after his fall from the top rope to the concrete. Grabbing alternately at his neck, ribs, and back, Almasy nonetheless was able to raise the title belt high with his other hand, prompting more cheers.

He knew not what lay on the horizon. But he had succeeded in climbing his own personal Mount Gagazet.

Any doubters he had left were likely now silenced. 

Winner > Seymour Almasy

ACW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
Vince Jacobs[c] Vs. Alias Vs. Khristain Keller

What does breakOUT mean to you?

It could mean any number of clichéd saying to three men.

It does not, however. I’m quite serious about that too. What it means to these three men was a chance at what brought them at each others throats to begin with.

The means to there collective ends.

It would end them. One of these days.

The ACW World Heavyweight Championship.

Whether the battle had raged between any of these three men for.

A collective number of weeks.

A collective number of months.

Or years, so many years the belt that now lay across the waist of one Superstar, was what it all led to on this night.

A night where so much insanity, and expected chaos had already taken place.

And with the main event starting NOW! much more chaos was about to breakOUT.

Okay, so atleast one cliché had to be used! Ahem.

So much had happened over the last several weeks, and the insanity of last week, with Jacobs bringing in powerful allies from the fans Wrestling organization, in Craig Miles and the reigning Internet champion only proved that the insanity knew no bounds.

’Dirty Window’

The man with the plan?

Khristian Keller walked out onto the make shift set-up for the PPV stage and strode down the steel ramp way confidently or at least with an air that he knew what he was damn well doing. He’d like to think so atleast, because at this stage, the only actions that are in your hands are your own and even then you can’t always be confident. K2 sneered at the All-Star fan base as he rolled into the ring, they didn’t respect him with these jeers and this booing, so like hell, he was going to start smiling there way. He’d smile at them then he had gold in one hand and was giving the middle finger with the other.

A pleasant fellow he was, indeed.

’Sympathy for the Devil’

Speaking of which maybe he wasn’t as pleasant these days as he had always been, but the fans saw him as a much better possible champ as compared to his two opponents. He didn’t quite see that tonight though, the Original Pulp Hero saw SVJ and that damn belt, in the back of his mind, and what he saw in front of his face was the man who had sent him to this main event. If it wasn’t for Keller he wouldn’t be here. That fact ate at him, and he wondered why. Though he owed Keller nothing, he thought as he made his way down the ramp way to the poetics of the ol’ Stones he would never owe Keller for tonight, never owe SVJ for ‘96’ never owed… yeah it was a dangerous state of mind that the Spirit found himself in.

Yeah, today Alias was a bad bad man. Though still, they could do nothing to cheer him on, because of <i>whom</i> he wanted to hurt.

’Ring Superstar’

Yeah, he wanted to do bad things to there God. For the first time in a long time though, Vince Jacobs was blind to that fact. He was content with his title belt; with how long he had held it, with how he had won it and how it hadn’t been taken from him. In his mind, after all this time, he had won. He was on to bigger and better things in his mind. All he wanted to do was shut out those who lay ahead of him, quiet the naysayers and move on into an uncontested field that’s all he needed.

He was Your God after all, cause I mean this was ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs, and for the World Champion it was all a state of mind.

See the trend here?

The hard ships, dodging, and valid questions to be answered had all taken there effect on any of the three men and each had some thing to gain something to lose.

At the end of the day, when the breakOUT had broken straight the fuck OUT each man believed, that the gold that they thought was deservedly there’s would give them a certain peace of mind. Maybe it would and maybe they could walk away from the two opponents that lay ahead of them, after this day.

Though that pressure would still be there without a doubt. Gold can only bring a certain shelter from the storm, but they wanted it none the less.

For the first time.

For the third time.

Forever.

It took a while for the referee to get all three men to there corners, but it happened, eventually. All so chaos could be giving its sardonically formulaic beginning.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Silence. Only for a second though, because the ground work had been laid out in each mans mind. How so, you ask? Well keeping up that teamwork instilled in them by ACW’s owner, one SilverHAWK, Keller and Alias actually started off the match by both stalking out towards the World Champ. SVJ arched an eye brow with mock bemusement before lashing out towards Alias, fighting for the upper hand in this bad situation. Keller was soon right behind him and brought Jacobs’ early fight to a quick halt with a forearm to the back of the head.

Alias took this opportunity to send a knee into the face of the crouching SVJ, but not in a leaping Tiger Crush proportion, just a hard knee to the face. SVJ slumped to a knee none the less and Alias slingshot himself off the near by ropes, coming back with a squared clothesline in mind.

Aaaand it happened just not the way that the Original Pulp Hero had in mind, as Keller popped forward from where he was standing and took advantage of the situation, taking Alias off of his feet. He then took SVJ by the arm and wrung it over into a hammerlock, elbowing the Champ’s shoulder to further weaken it and making the Reason to cry out in pain. Forcing SVJ into the corner to there left, Keller released his hold on SVJ’s arm before taking the opportunity to drive his OWN shoulder into the back of Jacobs’.

Not once.

Not twice.

Thrice.

Keller, pressing his early advantage, then grabbed SVJ and propped him up so that he was now sitting on the top rope. Hopping up onto the second rope, he wrapped his arms around Jacobs. Pausing for a moment he whispered into the Jacobs’ ear.

“You know, I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this.”

Pull. Vince had hooked his foot around the second ropes. They didn’t go anywhere.

“Actually Khristine, I have a feeling you might not.”

Except that wasn’t a reply from one Vince Jacobs. That was Alias. The Pulp Hero had made it back to his feet and had now grabbed Keller by the waist, as K2 still held onto SVJ. Alias pulled on Keller, and with the force of all three men hurling backwards towards the center of the ring, SVJ juuust couldn’t hold onto his perch on the top rope like he had before.

Stacked German Suplex!

The first BOOMING cheer came roaring from the crowd in this, the breakOUT main event.

Down went Keller HARD.

SVJ? Went down, onto the canvas, that much HARDER.

Even Alias wasn’t in the best shape and just like that, the chaos had truly begun. You’d expect the referee to start something akin to a standing ten count on the three, wouldn’t you? Oh, that’s right though no DQ, so hell they where just getting started. Alias took turns stomping away on both men while they were down on the mat. He didn’t discriminate; he didn’t like either one of them.

Alias picked up Keller and threw him over the top rope to the floor as he started to focus on the man that has put him through hell for years, Vince Jacobs. You could see all the rage and anger boil up in Alias’ face as he shot across the ring and attacked Jacobs with vigor. Alias continued to pound on Jacobs as Vince covered up from the assault. Alias gave the champ a boot in his midsection before lifting him to his feet.

Alias hooked Jacobs and drove him down on the mat with a gut wrench powerbomb. Did Alias go for the cover next? NO!! He knew it was going to take more than a powerbomb to put Jacobs down and out plus he hadn’t finish inflicting more pain on the man. Alias walked over to grab Keller who was trying to make his ay into the ring. Alias reached for K2 but he quickly grabbed Alias by the neck and hung him on the top rope. This bought Keller enough time to get in the ring and send Alias to the mat with a vicious clothesline. Alias tried to get to his feet but was met with another clothesline.

K2 went to look for the champ but he had rolled to the floor to get away from the fray in the ring. That didn’t stop Keller from following Jacobs out to the floor. K2 tried to grab Jacobs from behind but Vince was quick to nail Keller in the gut with an elbow shot. Vince quickly hooked the doubled over Keller and drove him down on the floor with a snap suplex.

Flesh meets cement.

Jacobs tried to get back into the ring but was met by a baseball slide from Alias. The Original Pulp Hero positioned himself as Vince turned around. Alias launched himself over the top rope with a slingshot cross body. But surprisingly Jacobs caught Alias and rammed him into the steel ring post. That surprised a lot of people even Alias. Vince was showing his strength here in this match. Vince grabbed Keller and rolled him into the ring before he rolled into the ring himself.

Jacobs picked up Keller and slammed him into the mat. He pointed to the top rope letting everyone know he was about to fly. Vince was trying to end this match early. He leapt off the top and nailed K2 with the Shining Star. Jacobs went for a quick cover on Keller.

ONE…

TWO…

KICKOUT!!

It wasn’t to be just yet. Jacobs was going to hit Keller with a knockout blow early in the match and walk out of here still the champ if he had anything to say about it. And guess what, he does. Jacobs stood ready to deliver that devastating Superstar Kick on Keller but what Jacobs didn’t know is that Alias was trying to make his way back into the ring. SVJ geared up as Keller turned around and caught Jacobs’ leg from the Superstar Kick. He spun Jacobs around into Alias’ waiting arms who drilled Jacobs with <b>Pulped</b>.

Alias tried to go for the cover but Keller quickly pulled him off of Jacobs. The two men started to argue over who would pin the champ. Well whoever does pin the champ will become the new ACW World Heavyweight Champion. Keller couldn’t take anymore as he nailed Alias with a right hand and the two started to exchange blows back and forth in the ring.

Keller took a swing at Alias who ducked the shot and nailed Keller with an atomic drop that sent K2 toward the ropes. Alias took a run at Keller with a clothesline that sent both men over the top rope to the floor.

Cheers from the crowd.

Both men were down on the floor as Vince Jacobs got to his feet and was the only man standing right now. The crowd jeered displaying their utter disgust for the champion as he paraded around the ring. But Jacobs was an opportunist so seeing both of his challengers on the floor gave the champ an idea. Jacobs waited for the two men to start to stir and get somewhat to their feet. It was time to fly and nobody dos it better than SVJ. Don’t believe me; ask him he will tell you.

Jacobs hoped onto the top rope as Keller and Alias were both on their feet. They both turned around and was nailed with The Ratings Grabber to the floor on both Alias and Keller. The crowd couldn’t believe what they just saw. All three of these men will go all out to keep or gain the ACW World Heavyweight Title. Everyone knew Jacobs was a risk taker but this was crazy to keep a championship title. The crowd let their voices be heard from the sight of that move.

HO-LY SHIT!!
HO-LY SHIT!!
HO-LY SHIT!!
HO-LY SHIT!!
HO-LY SHIT!!
HO-LY SHIT!!
HO-LY SHIT!!

All three men laid on the floor what seem like an hour but the ref was powerless in this situation. Remember No DQ match. Jacobs was the first one to move, then Alias, then Keller. Vince rolled into the ring and waited for his challengers to get into the ring. Alias and Keller both rolled into the ring and Jacobs didn’t know who he wanted to stomp first but he choose Alias first then went to Keller. SVJ picked up Keller and rammed him back into the corner. Vince drove a vicious right hand into Keller’s jaw before nailing him with some viscous chops.

Knife-edge chop!!
Crowd: WOOOOO!!

Knife-edge chop!!
Crowd: WOOOOO!!

Knife-edge chop!!
Crowd: WOOOOO!!

Ric Flair has to love this right now.

Jacobs picked up Keller and placed him on the top rope. Vince started to make his way up the ropes but K2 was fighting his way out of it as both men were nailing each other on the ropes. Alias finally got into the fray as he came from behind Jacobs and set him on his shoulders. Jacobs had no where to go as Keller looked at ‘YOUR GOD’. Alias moved Jacobs closer to Keller who stood on the top rope. Keller hooked Jacobs.

TORNADO DDT FROM OFF OF ALIAS’ SHOULDERS

Jacobs has to be dead. However Keller wasn’t done as he nailed Alias in the back with a forearm. He hooked alias and dropped him with an Inverted DDT. Keller was now the one that stood tall in the middle of the ring as he surveyed the damage he had made in the ring. But if this match wasn’t brutal then Keller wouldn’t be happy. K2 rolled to the floor and grabbed a steel folding chair and slid it in the ring.

More damage to come.

A lot more damage.

CHAIR SHOT TO JACOBS’ BACK

CHAIR SHOT TO ALIAS

CHAIR SHOT TO JACOBS

CHAIR SHOT TO ALIAS

CHAIR SHOT TO JACOBS

I think K2 was playing his own version of musical chairs. Keller took the bent steel chair and wedged it in the corner. He picked up Jacobs and whipped him into the corner. Jacobs screamed in pain as he slumped in the corner. Keller was done as he picked up Alias and whipped him into the same corner. Both Alias and Jacobs were now in the corner as Keller took a running start and speared both men into each other, the corner and the steel chair. A lot of impact there.

Keller grabbed Alias from the corner and dropped him down on the mat with a high vertical suplex. K2 then grabbed the groggy Jacobs and drove him down with another DDT. Keller went for the cover on Jacobs.

ONE…

TWO…

KICKOUT!!

Keller and the fans couldn’t believe Jacobs had kicked out after all that punishment. That wasn’t going to stop Keller with his quest of becoming the ACW Champion. He quickly went for a cover on Alias.

ONE…

TWO…

KICKOUT!!

Now Keller is getting pissed. And that’s one thing you don’t want to do and that was piss off K2. Keller picked up Alias and whipped him into the ropes. Keller dropped down for a back body drop but Alias stopped and hooked Keller driving him into the mat with a double underhook driver. That was a desperation move from Alias as it was to buy him some time and give him a breather. Jacobs tried to make his way to his feet with the help of the ropes as Alias was to his knees. Alias got to his feet first and charged at Vince knocking him down with a shoulder block.

Alias picked up Vince who surprised the Pulp Hero with an Inside Cradle pin fall attempt.

ONE…

TWO…

SAVE BY KELLER!!

Keller grabbed Alias by the head and threw him out of the ring. K2 was back in charge as he picked up SVJ and whipped him into the ropes. Jacobs bounced off the ropes and ducked the clothesline attempt by Keller. What happened next you ask?

Falling Star

Jacobs dropped Keller to the mat and quickly went for the cover on K2.

ONE…

TWO…

ANOTHER KICKOUT!!

Jacobs rolled to the floor and grabbed the ring bell from the timekeeper’s table and slid back into the ring. Alias was making his way into the ring from the other side. Vince waited for Keller to turn around and nailed K2 with the ring bell.

Keller got his bell rung. Okay bad joke.

Vince raised the bell high in the air for the fans as they started to jeer. That did it…

Keller was busted open.

Jacobs was ready for another shot but was stopped by Alias who nailed him from behind. Vince dropped the ring bell on the mat as Alias grabbed Vince by the hair and drove him down onto the bell with a face buster. It happened again

Jacobs was now busted open. Alias stood tall in the ring as both of his opponents were laid on the mat busted open from the same ring bell he held in his hand, but instead of maybe trying his luck with the pin, the fans favourite and former ACW Champion decided to take the punishment a little further.

Throwing the bell to the outside, Alias too Keller by the leg, and ripped him back into a boston crab...and as blood trickled down Keller's face, it was almost picture perfect to that famous Austin picture the WWE used so often.

BUT.

In the Austin picture, there was no Vince Jacobs booting Austin in the face and then his attacker, as Jacobs lamped Alias in the back with a boot as Alias stumbled across the ring and fell on his stomach. Jacobs swept his hair back, blood left the tips of his hair as his wound leaked crimson.

As Keller rolled to the side of the ring, Jacobs pulled Alias to his feet and shoved him into the corner.

No chairs.

No bells.

Just a rock-hard pack of fives.

Jacobs hammered into Alias' face, turning it from a chiseled perfection to a reflection of mush by the end of it, as he traveled to the other side of the ring and was then tossed to the crowd with a belly to belly suplex after bouncing off the ring posts.

Jacobs stood up and was now on a flow that he didn't want to stop, but as he picked Keller up, the mixture of grogginess and sheer desperation made Keller go for the low-blow (does he really need an excuse) before kneeing Jacobs in the face which tossed him to the mat as well.

The ring looked like this.

Four men stood, sat, or lay inside it.

One was the ref.

Keller was sitting up.

Alias was lying on his belly, rubbing his face to try and get some feeling back in it.

While Jacobs, the champion, was staring up at the lights wondering if he was dead, because he felt it.

Oh and there were large amounts of DNA on the canvas...but more was to come.

Keller, with the help of some nearby ropes was now on his feet, taking pity on Jacobs, he moved over to Alias, his partner in the crime over the past few weeks. Keller softened up Alias was two forearms to the face before whipping him to the ropes, and placing him in the sleeper hold.

Alias wasn't having any of this though, and he forced Keller back into a corner, giving him a small backwards head butt to show that he meant business...and then the referee got involved to get the duo to separate their ways, but as Alias moved forward, Keller grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back.

BULLDOG.

Missing Jacobs' head by about ->                                                    <- that much.

But the champion was soon to take part on the action.

Keller pinned.

1...

2...

Jacobs stopped the pin, and then pulled Keller to his feet before an atomic drop put him in his place...

"That for the low-blow."

But he wasn't finished, as Keller lay on the mat, he took Keller's ankle, opened his legs, and bulleted a right hand into Keller's nads, leaving the referee going insane with all the rule breaking going on, and Keller screaming like a little girl.

"And that's just for me..."

Jacobs laughed.

"What the...."

Wasn't laughing for long as Alias school boy'd him.

1...

2...

3!

Oh...only the two, but Alias didn't find any harm in arguing with the referee as he got to his feet, only for Jacobs to erect to his, and drop kick Alias in the back...what do you know.

In advertent referee squash in the corner.

Diddums...don't you fucking hate that?

The referee was now out of commission, leaving it a free for all in the centre of the ring, which it was anyway, but now it was hardcore. With Keller still suffering in the corner from an extremely sore groin area, Jacobs pulled Alias to his feet after his collision with the referee and tried to hook him up for a suplex...wasn't happening.

Instead, when Jacobs finally did get Alias up, Alias squirmed free in mid air and landed behind the World Champion. Alias pushed Jacobs to the ropes, but the champion stopped his tracks as he held on, the momentum making Alias do a backwards roll and then bouncing off the other ropes, they were about to hit each other head on...until Jacobs pussied out and pulled the ring ropes down, leaving Alias in a heap on the outside.

Alias was more or less up though as he shook the cobwebs from his head, but inside the ring, Keller was on his feet...and waiting to pounce. As Jacobs looked outside of the ring at Alias and laughed, he turned around to see Keller grinning, but his attempt right hand did nothing to the champion, and as quick as a flash...

STAR-STRUCK

Keller lay motion less on the canvas as Jacobs covered him...

...

...

Alias laughed.

Referee was still down.

Alias jumped into the ring but Jacobs was aware of his arch-nemesis' entrance...and turned around straight away only to lad into a right hand, and then another as he was pushed into the ropes.

Irish-whip.

Kick to Jacobs' stomach.

Jacobs head, in between Alias' legs.

Jacobs : "Oh shit!"

Alias : "Oh fucking yes."

___A___B_O_M_B___

The tilt-a-whirl pile driver with something for the special occasion as the fans got to their feet and applauded the "Pulp Hero" as he got to his feet, looking at the chaos in the ring.

Only one thing came to mind.

CREDITS
----------------------------------

Lowell Dot Com Is A Stupid Sellout With A Head Bright Enough To Burn Your Retinas…You Know, Cause He’s Ugly And Has Sex With SVJ. DOUBLE BURN!! - Seth

Annnd This My Friends is Why Universal is Going to Sue ACW - Oz

Will The Real Lowell Dot Com Please Stand Up? - Devin

Mark Morris Vs. Dean McDaniel - Daniel

Enter the Champ - Ed

WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? - Cimon

Andy Sharp vs. Lowell Dot Com - Seth and Devin

Take a Look At What You Could've Won - Scott

So Far, So Good... - Zezu

ACW UNITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP
God's Forgotten Son[c] v. Sars The Clown - Cimon

So Far, So Bad... - Zezu

ACW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP
TheNormans[c] Vs Splink - Trevor

Conception of the Beast - Josh

Ready or Not - Sean

ACW TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP
Fejona Min[c] vs. Seymour Almasy vs. Kelly Flawless - Sean

ACW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
Vince Jacobs[c] Vs. Alias Vs. Khristain Keller - Russ, Ed and Zezu