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Steel Domain Wrestling





How Do.

SDW is brought to you by Twin Cities Ringside, Springwater cigarettes and my Saturday afternoon. Let's start with this mid-west love fest, shall we?

Opening Montage: BFD Graphic(I dunno), a bloodied Horace the Psychopath(the only guy I'm familiar with as of yet...yes, this will be a learning experience for both of us. Feeling elucidated yet? Me neither), SATAN HIMSELF(ostensibly) brandishing a torch, double kneedrop on someone's face(I think it's Horace, can't be sure), snap suplex(I'll mention it when I know who the fuck they are), hangman's neckbreaker, yelling, butterfly suplex on Horace, more yelling, pointing, another suplex(not of the snap variety), lariat, pummeling (Hey, is that Jericho? Nah, but he sure wants to be), side Russian legsweep, my head hurts, wink, Thesz press(no mounted punches), another neckbreaker, more yelling, sliding a table into the ring, painful(to watch)-looking backdrop, exactly the same maneuver as performed by someone else, diving lariat, top rope plancha to the outside is caught, ducked clothesline, smirking, what looks like it should have been a Michinoku Driver turned into a powerslam(just a fucking powerslam, basically), yelling and pointing, MORE SATAN WITH THE TORCH ACTION, Horace with a DDT, and a snap suplex to finish this lovely, LOVELY montage(hey, I've got an about I NEVER RECAP THE OPENING MONTAGE EVER AGAIN. Sound good? Sounds good).

THE CYCLONE FENCE OF HARDCOREITUDE greets us pleasantly for yet another mind-numbingly awesome hour(57:43, actually,but who's counting?)of Steel Domain wrestling, as Mick Karch(with Bischoff-style leather jacket and "Slick Mick" graphic. Blah)opens this segment with a little something I like to think of as an interview, in the presence of a little someone I like to think of as Horace the Psychopath. Much hype is given pertaining to the main event this week in which Horace will face that paragon of illness, "Sick" Nick Mondo(He's sick, you know). Horace wears an awful-looking jacket, makes an overture to Test(who I assume[rightly] won't be part of the festivities this weekend), and cuts a ramblingly Mankindesque promo about dolls and workouts with tables, promising that this encounter(as opposed to all the encounters that have already happened where he got his ASS HANDED TO HIM) will be the one where he comes out on top. He also can't find his belt. Is this a title match, then? Does Karch have his belt? Should I care...? Oops, that's the end of the segment...

SDW PRESENTS "TORMENT 2002"! Tonight?! Oh, wait, no, it's, uh, the 24th. Same place as usual? Yep(the St. Paul Armory. Will I be there? NO), and doors open at 4.5p, show starts at 5.5p. Matches include: Horace vs. Adrian Lynch, ACID vs. "The Hardcore Luchador"(I don't make this stuff up) Dino Bambino(looks like a cross between Disco Inferno and Little Guido, so, yeah, he properly represents the Italian portion of St. Paul...that is, HIM BEING THE ONLY ITALIAN IN ST. PAUL SINCE 1946 but I digress), Magnus vs. "Sick" Nick Mondo(looks like Tommy Dreamah? Good heavens!), aaaaaaaaand that's it.

Commercials? Commercials. Commercials...blah, this sucks, let's see what else is on...*click*Professor Utonium has a TV with all kinds of shit sticking out of it*click*Cornerstone Muzak brings you Spirit of the 60's(complete with thirtysomethings dressed like surprisingly hygienic hippies)*click*"because the physical world is made up of dichotomies..."*click*Ooh, a basket! I CAN GET IT FOR $59.92! YAWZ!*click*Hick in a Folger's hat offers his opinion on something to do with automotives, I'm thinking*click*C-SPAN BRINGS THE BODY THAT ROCKS THE PARTY*click*"Dude, you're getting a Dell!"*click*blank screen...nothingness, sweet nothingness, how sorrowful that we must*click*Goldie Hawn(looking plasticine as ever)embraces some kid*click*Is that Ian Mowat?*click*A Spider-Man monster truck? What the fuck?*click*"I don't need anybody!"*click*Fuck Emeril Lagasse*click*Fuck Rugrats*click*Powerpuff Girls again*click*aaand here we are again at the 60's music thing. This is a long commercial! Damn! Oh, huh, it goes straight back to the action. Sweet.

1st match: Brad Bradley(with Mortimer Plumtree, esq., and no entrance) vs. Kujo(with a graphic announcing him as JUJO and no entrance. SMELL THE PRODUCTION VALUES!) Lockup, Bradley muscling the Rhyno-like Kujo into the corner, Kujo switches positions, reversals across the ring into the opposite corner, Bradley breaks and stalls, while Kujo mugs for the crowd like any brickshithouse-built man would. Plumtree complains to the "Astigmatic" Jay Soltis, and while Kujo takes umbrage at this, Bradley...does nothing. Just like a good heel. Or not. Anyway, back to the lockup, armbar by Kujo, segued into a hammerlock, and THE LIGHTS GO OUT! WILL WE HEAR LIMP BIZKIT?! No, it's just god-awful production values. Bradley reverses out of the hammerlock into one of his own, then just kind of lets go and lets Kujo get it back on him. Sigh. ReversaL and subsequent armwringers by Bradley, until Kujo drops down and takes him over with what I assume was supposed to be a fireman's carry, but only if a fireman held you by one leg and then proceeded to drop you on your head. Sigh again. Side headlock by Kujo, reversed into a hammer/headlock combo, into a headlock takeover by Bradley, who apparently must fight fires in his spare time, due to all the carrying required of him right now. Bradley with the grounded headlock, standard resthold procedure, you know the drill. It seems to get a 1, despite Bradley keeping Kujo's head and shoulders from actually, you know, touching the ground or anything. Kujo gets a grounded headscissors on Bradley, then just seems to lose interest in it, as Bradley "powers out" and gets the much-vaunted side headlock right back on. Wrenching it in, no, Kujo lifting him up, and down with an atomic whip straight onto his ass. Bradley seems reticent to pursue this course of action, and dutifully stalls. Back to the lockup, Kujo with the armbar, short clothesline by Kujo, into another, into anotherNO go behind by Bradley, waistlock, German suplex attempt which Kujo elbows out of, armbar into the third short clothesline, celebration. It gets 1 _. Have I mentioned that Kujo can't seem to stop smiling? Well, neither can I. Scoop into a slam by Kujo, into the corner and out with a falling headbutt for 2. Kujo stomps Bradley with what seem to be ski boots on his feet, and suddenly his lack of aerial maneuvers seems almost self-explanatory. Almost. Bradley put into the corner, right, kick(x5), sending Bradley to the opposite corner, no, Bradley with the headscissors attempt, reversed into a crotching on the top rope. Kujo then seems, despite his seeming Rhynoesque intensity, to just casually swat Bradley down to the(concrete) floor. Bradley briefly confers with Plumtree, their little tete-a-tete broken by a diving Kujo lariat off the apron. 2 rights by Kujo, bearhug, running to the ringpost, I think he was going to run him into it, but he instead sets Bradley down right beforehand and seems to just kind of push him into it. Jesus. At this point, I can only assume Mortimer Plumtree nailed Kujo with his cricket bat(I know, I know), but thanks to the STELLAR CAMERA WORK, we only see Kujo stagger away from the fans clutching his head. Them coke cups can be nasty, ask Ted DiBiase. Bradley with clubbing forearms, face to the apron, and it's only been 5 minutes? It seems so much longer...! As it were, Bradley goes for the suplex into the ring, fucks it up, no, he turns it into a slingshot DDT! 1, 2, kickout. Bradley back to the forearms to the back(to the forearms to the back to the front to the side now slide), Kujo's head to the turnbuckle, chop(the crowd, seemingly dead, then proceeds to find the collective wherewithal to "WOOO" accordingly. Did I mention that I'm NOT going to be there of the 24th? Bradley with the cross corner whip, Kujo hits sternum first, Bradley follows up with the Raven clothesline. Bradley jawing the fans, knees Kujo, bashes his head on the turnbuckle, attempts the lather-rinse-repeat with the clothesline set-up, but just telegraphs the shit out of the clothesline(Christ almighty was that bad, he held his fist up for like 5 seconds), which allows Kujo to go for his shitty takeover again, no, he hooks the head underneath his arm and hits a KRYPTONITE KRUNCH?! Anbiribaboo! It gets a believable 2. They do a dueling-rebound-forearm-shivers bit to make me die just a little bit more, until Kujo totally misses a clothesline and Bradley capitalizes by the power of Greyskull by RELEASE-DRAGON-SUPLEXING HIM ONTO HIS FUCKING HEAD! Goddamn, that looked like it hurt, and the crowds applauds like good little bastards. You'd think this sort of thing would only get a near-fall about 5000 miles away from America, but it seems that hitting a vertebrae-exploding dragon suplex is only enough to get a 2 in front of the good people of San Pablo. Bradley with the clubbing forearms, but kujo comes back with a right, right, right, left, right, right, right, forearm by Bradley. Forearm, Kujo shitty right, shitty right, shitty right, measuring Bradley for the Sylvester Ritter Special. Irish whip, Kujo with a back body drop. Clothesline, pointing to Bradley in the corner, kick, rabbit punches by Kujo. Kicking Bradley over onto his back, falling headbutt, 1, 2. Irish whip, reversed by Bradley, who misses his clothesline and gets a full-nelson slam for his efforts. Again, only 2. Kicking Bradley, attempts something resembling and arm-and-neck suplex, fucks it up, "sells" a back injury, pumphandle into...a Dominator attempt? It fails, as Plumtree is up on the apron to distract Jay Soltis by mocking his astigmatism. Or not. In any case, it allows Bradley to escape, turn Kujo around and hit what looks like a Flatliner-modified DDT for the duke. WESTURN(the print is too small to see what they actually do. Great work, guys)brings you the replay. This segment ends with Bradley and Plumtree blathering at some fans while we go to...

Oh, boy, Commercials! Morrie's Imports appeals to the Minnesota Indy Fan Demographic by featuring ads with "Tony Denucci, tag team champion, in your corner!" Shitty graphics threaten me with epilepsy while the aforementioned Tony and "Tasty" Travis Lee(billed as, "FLEX APPEAL" *Steel Domain* Tag Team Champions, which they aren't anymore. Will we see new commercials soon? What do you say, Magic 8-Ball? "My sources say No". Well, there you go) talk about how exciting it is that not only is Tony a tag team champion and a representative of Morrie's, but he also works there! Gimme five! Travis dutifully mugs away, looking for all the world like Kurt Angle's head on my body(not the most handsome of combinations, I assure you), while Tony natters endlessly about...stuff I can't be bothered to repeat.

As if that wasn't hot shit enough, heeeeeeeeere's another commercial featuring Tony, looking like another toolish athlete with a brain-dead job lined up for after he suffers that one head injury that ends it for him! The pathos! This time, Tony's influence on the banks is peddled, as "Mr. Banker"(nameless indy jobber that reminds me of Brock Lesnar) refuses to deal with Tony. Well, never let it be said that Tony Denucci was one to take shit from sorry-ass desk-workers, as he then gutshots the guy, puts him into a standing head scissors, and powerbombs him through a conveniently-placed table, which said jobber then sells like I do when I mix Nyquil with Dayquil(hint: it involves lots of head-waggling and eye-rolling. ACTING!). Gyuh, one has to wonder what happens if you refuse his attempts to sell you a shitty used Saab... ....more commercials...Hello, Moto, your commercial, it is so shitty! Yosh!..."Badlands" ad...

....And we're back, with Karch interviewing "Black Nature Boy" Scoot Andrews. Scoot immediately runs down Minnesota, its sports teams, its weather and its women("the women have blonde hair and blue eyes in the state of Minnesota, well, noone told me the COWS DID!" it makes enough sense for me to love it), thereby earning his place as my favorite performer on this show ever, despite my never having seen any of his work. He also discusses his upcoming match with ACID, his status as the Black Nature Boy, and how much Minnesota blows. Simple, and effective. And now, to the action!

2nd match: "Scoot" Andrews(with graphic, no entrance)vs. ACID(with graphic, and Edge's ring-humping entrance. And his PVC trenchcoat. And Jericho's tights. And Berlyn's hair! Geez, nice derivative character, there, ACID. Are you a fan of Kurt Angle, by any chance?). Scoot tries a sneak attack while El Cid's playing to the fans, but The Caustic One's having none of that. Here we go. The crowd shows their support for ACID, which Scoot takes unkindly to. ACID encourages an incomprehensible chant, and Scoot tells the referee to shut up or he'll leave. Predictably, the fans redouble their derogatory remarks, so Scoot leaves! Awesome. ACID taunts him back to the ring and holds the ropes, but Scoot's not having it. Scoot with a Flair-like boot wipe on the ring apron, fucks with the fans a little bit more, and NOW here we go: lockup, arm wringers by ACID, and the commentators remark that if ACID goes over the BNB(as helpfully emblazoned on his ass), the news of it'll be all over every internet website by the time they leave the building! Sorry, guys, but unless my debut column for the fine people at Slashwrestling(thanks again, Invader ZIM)carries more stroke than I ever thought possible, I think this is about as good as you're getting. In any case, Scoot rolls through into an armbar of his own, into a full nelson, reversed by ACID, reversed by Andrews, segued into a hammerlock! Not bad. I'd also like to take the time to note that Ed(I don't know his last name, but he's the guy on color, if being the guy on color means sitting next to Mick Karsh and agreeing with everything he says) made a reference to The Great Sasuke, and pronounced it like he was saying, "Sausage Case". HA HA HAAAAA!*ahem*ACID reverses the hammerlock, so Scoot just does a quick standing switch into a DEEP armdrag all the way across the ring! I like this guy. ACID is quick to recover, though, and lunges at Scoot, hitting a single-leg takedown into a standing leglock, whereupon he dishes it out a little more by putting his boot on Scoot's face for leverage. Heh. Twisting escape by the BNB, however, as he gets back to his feet and snatches a side headlock on ACID. Quick show-off spin into a schoolboy gets 1 for Scoot, who then slaps the taste right out of ACID's mouth. Muted chant from the fans follows, as I don't bother trying to understand it. STERLING CAMERA WORK focuses on two idiots yelling at Scoot, then high-fiving. Just superb. Scoot teases another lockup with ACID, only to get just close enough to bitch-slap him one more time. Have I mentioned that I enjoy his work? ACID lunges for Scoot, only to be prevented by the (as-yet unnamed) referee while Scoot sticks his head out from between the ropes. SCOOT POINTS TO HIS HEAD! BEAUTIFUL! Once again, lockup, side headlock by Scoot, elbowed out by ACID, Irish whip, reverse elbow ducked by Scoot, who then does an Irish whip of his own, trying for the hiptoss but ACID hits a wristlock into an armdrag! Scoot is up and runs into another hiptoss, only to rise one more time to be met with a stinging slap by ACID! The crowd is enjoying this one. ACID works Scoot on the ropes, but the referee pushes him away just enough to let Scoot get an eyepoke! Classic. ACID against the ropes, chop(WOOO)by the BNB, chop, measured for a right, Irish whip into an attempted tilt-a-whirl slam, but ACID lands on his feet and nails a Russian legsweep for 1. Clubbing forearm, but an Irish whip is reversed by Scoot, who misses a lariat, and when ACID comes back at him and tries a satellite headscissors takeover, Scoot catches him in mid-spin and plants him with a SIT-OUT TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER! The crowd "Ohhh"s accordingly as Scoot plays to 'em while the referee checks to make sure ACID didn't make an impression on the mat with his head, 'cause buddy, he got PLANTED. Scoot stands over the prone ACID and rakes the back, follows him into the corner with a kick to the lower back and dumps him. As there's no guardrail, ACID ends up at the feet of the fans, who show their appreciation for his splat to the concrete by hold their hands really close to his face while they clap. Brilliant. Scoot follows him out, axehandle to the back, slap to the chest(WOOO?), and an introduction to the ringpost. More grandstanding by Scoot, accompanied by a white screen in place of action until we go to break. Channel 45, FIRE YOUR CAMERAMAN!



BLAH BLAH AOL(hey, wait a minute...)

Back to the action, in surprisingly quick fashion, as Scoot busts out with the RUDO-STYLE BOOTLACE SCRAPES TO THE EYES! Ahh, Eddy, where have you been(interesting story: not that he'd ever know it, but my dad was his RD when he was in college in NM about, oh, say, 15 years ago. I wonder if he still had the mullet...)? Scoot follows this up with a ring rope face-burn, followed with a turnbuckle shot and a chop(WOO). Scoot with slaps to the chest, cross-corner whip follow-through is jumped over by ACID, ACID right, chop, chop, cross-corner whip reversed by Scoot, ACID tries the up-and-over trick one more time, only to be caught with a PENDULUM SWING(Alabama Slamma)! Only good for 2, though, so Scoot tries his luck with a butterfly brainbuster! Nope, only 2 again. However, Scoot sits up, gets on one knee and puts his shin across ACID's throat while he bitches to the ref. Can you feel the love? Or is that asphyxiation? A bit more crowd-taunting by Scoot, replete with tongue-sticking and pec-flexing. Let's just hope we never see the REAL Nature Boy do that, god love 'im. ACID is up with some shots to the... ??? ....OK, we've split the screen...what the FUCK is up with these production values? OK, there we are. Body shots are broken up with a BNB eye-rake, and the subsequent cross-corner whip is reversed into a running turnbuckle smash by ACID! Whatever he was trying to do next gets stopped cold by a Scoot short clothesline, though, for 2. Complaining to the ref, while standing on the throat, count of 4. Scoot with a scoop and slam, thumb across throat, and he...goes up? He hotdogs WAY too long though, and his Perro Aguayo-alike misses, he lands on his heels and goes down. Both men are down, slow count, Scoot is up with a right, ducked, 3 rights by ACID, Irish whip and back body drop follow. As soon as Scoot is up, though, ACID is right there to take him over with a huracan rana! Scoot quickly bails, and while he races out of the way of a plancha attempt by ACID, he stops paying attention, points to his head and turns around to EAT an ACID quebrada! "SD-Dub" chants follow, and I'm wincing. Scoot rolled into the ring, stomped for good measure, cover 1, 2, no. Scoot into the corner, chop, chop, whipped to the other end, followed in with an ACID leapfrog onto the second rope, NO-LOOK SECOND-ROPE X-FACTOR! Nice little transition there, and it gets 2. Irish whip, reversed, ACID with a sunset flip, Scoot is reaching, no, pivots left, pulls ACID up by the arm, slop drop, no, he gets a Roll the Dice! 1, 2, no. Scoot is up, standing head scissors, up into a Walls of Jericho variant where the arms are hooked behind the ankles, jumping forward into a pancake! THAT's a new one, and he rolls it over into a pinning combination for 2. The crowd, hating this dastardly heel and his dastardly heelisms, chants "One more time". ACID picked up, Scoot right, right, ducked, spun around, atomic drop on the knee of ACID. ACID is quick to capitalize, and gets a gutshot, front chancery, leg is hooked, SNAP THREE-HANDLED MOSS-COVERED FAMILY GREDUNZA?! D'oh. ACID shoulder-rolls backwards onto the BNB...1, 2, no. Scoot is put on the top rope, "I'm cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs" signal is given, top-rope huracan rana attempt by ACID is turned into a superbomb! Scoot flumps down in the corner, but sadly, Rikishi does not wrestle here, so no stinkface for you this afternoon. Follow-up cover gets 2, and Scoot expresses mild disbelief, shoving the ref, who then gives him about the weakest shove back I've ever seen. I mean, good god, would it hurt to at least make the guy MOVE? ACID is up by now, and when Scoot turns around, he takes a spinebuster/double-leg foldup combo, which gets, you guessed it, two. ACID with a couple of forearms against the ropes, Irish whip is reversed, Scoot holds on, ACID's RVD-style stepover kick is ducked, pumphandle, onto the shoulders and into EMERALD FUCKING FUSION! And that, my friends, is good for the three. Now, I don't rate matches, but THAT was top-notch for what I've come to expect from local indy stuff. I'm definitely going to keep an eye on this Scoot Andrews, he's got a whole bag of good shit to work with. Damn, he even got a standing ovation. Playing the heel seems a bit rough about now, as he can't seem to stop grinning, and slaps a few hands on his way out. Despite the STALLTACULARITY, it wasn't bad. I liked his use of psychology, and his finisher was something else. Commentators refer to his finisher as a "spike piledriver(sigh)" and ponder aloud whether it was ACID's teeth or his vertebrae that shot out of his mouth at the end of that move.

Commercials? No, let's see what else is on...*click* "This magic moment-"*click*"Ridiculous Lucky Captain Rabbit King, Lucky Captain Rabbit King Nuggets are for the youth!" Hah!*click* brings you Prom Night Favorites! Suck it*click*Oh, wait,*click* we're back.

3rd Match: Horace the Psychopath(with F.R.I.E.N.D.S graphic...whaa--? And head-slapping entrance)vs. "Sick" Nick Mondo(with "SICK" helpfully written on his forehead, graphic, and no entrance) in what seems to be a non-title match...OK, I don't know. The Sick One, to my consternation, seems to be the love child of Sean O'Haire and Seth Green, while Horace has a facepaint-job that hasn't been seen since Dead Presidents(or Half Baked, take your pick)'s still a toss-up, though, as to which of their respective pants are martial-artsier. Here we go: Mondo encourages a clap-along, Horace throws a round kick that goes nowhere, and a staredown becomes a Mondo shove, which culminates with much punchitude by Horace. Mondo right, Horace right, Mondo(I can't help but think about Battle Arena Toshinden now), Horace, Mondo's is blocked, Horace right, right, right, right, Dusty Rhodes-like shuck-and-jive, and a spear-hand thrust to the stomach. Horace then proceeds to bite Mondo on the ribs, forcing a break, and waits for him to get up. Horace with an Irish whip, head down, Mondo with a roll/flip across Horace's back, leg up and waiting, UNASSISTED ENZUI GIRI! Horace is out and staggering into the fans, but possessing the wherewithal to sidestep a Mondo baseball slide and clamber back into the ring. As soon as Mondo is back in, though, Horace meets him with a jumping forearm to the back. Elbow/knee sandwich follows for Mondo, and Horace unloads with some...chops? Those kind of suck, in that Horace doesn't really follow through, and it just looks like he's reverse-slapping Mondo with a cupped hand. Scoopslam followed by a double-kneedrop gets a 1 for Horace. Mondo is put into the corner(is it just me, or are these things a little formulaic?), slaps to the gut by Horace, which Mondo sells like he was forced to watch a Pauly Shore marathon. More chops follow, plus a nipple bite from Horace, and my bile's rising! Cross-corner whip by Horace, followed by a...jumping Ho Train is the best way I can describe it. Hey, this is the first column I've ever written for anything, don't start to get pissy on me now(unless you've stopped reading long since, in which case, pissy away)! While I've been making excuses, Mondo came off the ropes into a gutshot, leading to a Horace Back Brain Kick (Fighter Hayabusa, baby!), and general audience disinterest. Mondo rolls to the outside, and Horace follows with quasi-baseball slide dropkick between the first and second ropes to the floor! A fan offers Horace a chair, and gets ignored! HA! More fans come up to the apron, and I wonder, well, shit, why don't they just sell beer in glass bottles here while they're at it? Horace rolls Mondo in, hits a jumping butt-drop and we go to break. BLAH BLAH MIKE THE MOWER




And we're back, as Horace gives up the headbuttery for young Mr. Mondo's benefit. Clotheslined out of the ring(lookit the chubby teens in Slipknot shirts scatter! WHEEEEEEE), Horace follows him out, grabs a Sprite(the drink of choice for wrestling psychopaths? Why not), swigs a bit and spits it back in Mondo's face! And I though it was bad when my entire row got sprayed with beer at Anarchy Rulz 2000. At least the Sandman was an alcoholic, can you imagine some filthy psychopath spewing someone else's Sprite in your face? WARNING: DIGRESSION ALERT! Actually, I was being sarcastic for the most part there, but that does sound pretty gross now that I think of it. Fat chicks in party hats? No problem. Stepping in cat shit at 6am with all the lights out? Happens all the time. Keeping up correspondence with certain online wrestling personalities? I've had worse. But that Sprite, man...ecch...OK, where was I? Ah, yeah, and then he throws the can at him, which takes Mondo a little bit to realize wasn't thrown at him by some dipshit fan, so he can actually sell the fucking thing. He then responds with a kick, Horace with a right, Mondo right, Horace, Mondo, Horace, Mondo and Horace with a forehead bite. Mondo calling a spot, punching Horace and hitting the Feliner? Hmm. Horace Flair Flops on the concrete, and Mondo bounces a chair off his prone back. Horace takes an overhand right from Mondo, but then scoops him up and runs him at the ringpost, unfortunately half-assing it like Kujo did so long ago. Horace gives Mondo a weird shot to the chest, another(Karsh: "Horace with those open-handed chops!" Yeah, as opposed to all those closed-handed chops, jackass), and it's headbutts a-plenty for Mr. Sicky. Horace with a right, dragging Mondo to the soda machines, and some fat kid gets in the way of the shot and waves at them. Horace with a suplex attempt, no, Mondo with a--well, remember when ACID hit that 3-HM-CFG? It was kind of like that, only it sucked. It was on concrete, though, so it has to be cool. Yayy, more fat kids in the shot, standing over the wrestlers and pointing at them! Isn't it great to be an in-the-way asswipe?! Mondo corralling Horace back to the ring, calling the spot, Horace with a right, another right, Mondo rolled into the ring, and some skeevy fan is made to beg off. Huh...apparently, it IS a TV Title match, how about that. Mondo is up and waiting for Horace, though, and clotheslines him right out of the ring(no fat teen bescattery this time, I'm afraid). The fans DO scatter, however, when Mondo hits a ringpost-assisted somersault tope of Horace! "Holy Shit" chants are quickly muted, but they still miss a few! Hah! SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT, channel 45! Yeah, I showed them. Totally. Mondo is up, and quick to dis the Westside? Oh, no, he's just holding his hands out in an "M", ostensibly for MONDO, I'll bet. Horace is rolled into the ring again, and Mondo gets the suplex-no, he just hung him out on the top rope. The "Sick" One's gesture tells no lies...he, too, is Cuckoo for Lemmy Kilminster!! I mean, Cocoa Puffs. Okay, that's quite a know how Mr. Self-Pointy Guy likes to set his opponent du jour up on the guardrail and hit a legdrop on them? Well, this is like that, only it involves a much twistier legdrop(corkscrew moonsault-esque, really), and the recipient his on the top rope. And "Sick" Nick didn't really hit him, but it was a damn fine attempt. Sigh. Two is what it gets. Mondo Irish whips a disoriented Horace into another Feliner attempt, but Horace catches the kick, drops an elbow on the leg and hits a jumping DDT! Horace into the corner, and out with a somersault senton! The announcers refer to it as the Cannonball and sell it like a finisher of utter annihilation, so I'll assume it is such. It's only good for 2, though, and Horace is in a state somewhere between total shock and disbelief, and mild irritability. No room for capitalization, though, as Horace sets Mondo up for a cross-corner whip, only to run straight into a Mondo round kick to the head. Mondo with a front chancery into a...variant of the Acid Drop, only instead of a bulldog(or whatever), it's a DDT. Good-looking move, but it gets 2, as the announcers wail piteously. AWESOME CAMERA ANGLE makes Mondo's Tajiri-like head kick seem to be aimed at a spot about a foot over and 2 feet away from Horace's head. Guh. If at first you totally blow a kick to the head of your seated opponent, however, try, try again, which he does, sort of connecting this time, and then following up with...good god! A TOP-ROPE DOUBLE-STOMP TO THE TOP OF HIS HEAD! It gets...2?! HE STEPPED ON HIS HEAD! Ah, well, pardon my markery. Mondo goes back up to the top, loses his balance, and HORACE RELEASE-POWERBOMBS HIM DIRECTLY ONTO HIS HEAD! ACK! That's just not right. I mean...*shudder* that's frightening to watch. If Mondo didn't immediately move around afterwards, I would have sworn I watched this poor bastard's career end in the ring at that second. In any case, another Cannonball, the 3 count is academic, but the ref blows the finish? Mondo's not even close to kicking out, but that hand stops halfway down. Bizarre. In any case, Horace hits a side Russian legsweep segued into an Octopus Hold, and Mondo's tappin', but the dumbass ref fails to call for the bell for about a minute. What's this guy's problem? Anyway, it's another successful title defense for Horace, and we've got commercials? I got no TIME for those! SKIPPING AHEAD...after Horace's celebration, Mondo rejects the Hand of Friendship, goes up and behind to beat his ass down and give him a Dragon Sleeper with a body scissors, Mondo leaves to get a chair, but ACID is in to stop any further beathood. Mondo, sick bastard that he is, makes sure to gladhand the fans on his way out. Oooooookay.

And so, to end the show we get Karsh interviewing "Sick" Nick Mondo. Salient Points:
  • He has "SICK" written on his forehead for a reason(he's sick? I don't know),
  • We don't realize what he's been through,
  • He can't wrestle his style on this building,
  • We don't realize that,
  • Horace is dressed in hospital clothing,
  • This company disgusts him,
  • These wrestlers disgust him,
  • This cunt--company(don't look at me, that's exactly what he said) doesn't just make him angry, it makes him...sick.
  • Horace isn't done with him,
  • "Sick" has been in the ring with everyone, Abdullah the Butcher, everyone.

    The music of SDW is provided by Black Flood Diesel and Stool Sample. We're out. ....again, thanks to everyone who took the time to read my debut column. As it is, I've never felt compelled to provide content for any other site, or write columns for anything else, so let me know what you think, huh? BRING THE FEEDBACK!

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