The Final Show

Date: Monday, November 12, 2007

Welcome to a special edition of Monday Night Raw, where the main event will see Randy Orton defend his WWE Championship against two of his Throng partners, John Cena and Triple H. The mystery of the notes has been on the minds of fans, backstage personnel and wrestlers alike. There is a strange presence in the air; a feeling of something elusive and yet imminent. The atmosphere is most unsettling...

JR: "Welcome, guys and gals, to Monday Night Raw! I'll tell ya, I couldn't be more ready for tonight's main event! The Throng has finally gotten the advantage over the New Corporation and tonight is all about them, and it damn sure as Hell should be!”

King: “This has gotta be eating away at the New Corporation like a cancer. Mr. McMahon cannot stand Orton, Triple H or John Cena, so he’s got to be pulling his hair out! Not that that’s a bad thing...”

JR: “You damned right, King. Mr. McMahon needs to be exposed for the heartless, desensitized, unholy, sick, vile, corrupt, sadomasochistic son of a ***** that he is!”

King: “Ross, you might want to think twice about what you call our boss.” >_>

JR: “Screw that, King! I’m not going to be one of the innumerable sycophants of Mr. McMahon. The man is a nasty human being and I have no compunction about making that known! He lives to make peoples’ lives a living Hell and I hope one day he dies a horrible, painful death!”

King: “You don’t think that’s cutting it a little too extreme?”

JR: “Why are you such a brown-nose, King?”

King: “I’m not a brown-nose, I just think you’re going way overboard with your hatred for the Chairman.”

JR: “So just because I wish a plague on both his houses, and that I wish his family gets mutilated by a rabid Doberman Pinscher, and that I pray that his crotch becomes infested with maggots, that makes me a bad person? Is that what you’re saying?!”

King: “...just forget I ever said anything, okay? I’m gonna back up over a here a little bit now...” O_o

The Throng make their way to the ring, and the crowd erupts into a deafening cacophony of cheers.

Orton: “Last week, the New Corporation thought they had everything under control. Well, they learned a valuable lesson: never sell the Throng short. Like the mythical Phoenix, we will always rise from the ashes and secure victory! The New Corporation needs to learn that there’s no stopping us! They... WILL... fall.”

HHH: “Ya see, Vinnie Mac, try as you might to screw us over, you failed to take into consideration one very important thing: our connections. Your very own son has tolled the bell for you, McMahon. And tonight, John Cena, Orton and I are gonna give these fans a legendary treat, and NONE of it is going to involve you, nor your pissant ‘other’ son, juggernaut bodyguard or your inane confidant.”

Coach: “Damn skippy, G!”

The New Corporation emerge from backstage, all of them visibly upset.

Mr. McMahon: “Damnit you all make me sick to my stomach! If it wasn’t for Shane, who I might add, is my REAL illegitimate child (boos from the crowd), tonight would be all about us. Well, you know what? Tonight’s going to be all about the New Corporation anyway! We will put you into the ground and make you eat dirt, you lousy bastards!”

Russo: “Ey, Jawn Cena, how’s come you aint said nuttin’ yet?”

Cena: “...”

Mr. McMahon: “What’s the matter, Cena? You’re not... scared of us are you?” >:-)

Cena: “...”

Mr. Kennedy: “My dad asked you a question you stupid son of a --”

Cena: “The New Corporation comes out here like their runnin’ the place, but in reality they just way too gay on the face. The Throng is gonna go down tonight, according to the boss. Well, I’m John Cena and you can use my pubes to floss! Mr. McMahon’s got some kinda problem with all of us in the ring, which I guess is understandable considering his very small thing. I mean, let’s face it, the Throng’s got truly monstrous schlongs, but sadly for the boss, he’s always just singin' the swan songs.”

Mr. McMahon: >:-(

Cena: “And then we’ve got the ‘New Yahk’ has-been named Russo the Great, who’s actually in the middle of a tryst with a woman of considerable weight. Oh, don’t try to hide it, homey! I even met the *****, and she offered to blow me. Unlike you, I denied her request, ‘cuz I aint ever heard of a 500-lb. bequest! That tank had more rolls than a bakery and more chins than a Chinese phonebook, man. Her ass smelled so bad I had to waft the stench away with a portable fan! But hey, it’s your decision, Russo, and yours alone. But how are you gonna please her when she douches with a phone?”

Russo: :’(

Cena: “Then there’s the jacked-up freak named Bobby Lashley, who couldn’t even score with the whore named Ashley. Oh, don’t get miffed, bubble-brain. You just can’t make it in the fast lane. I’ve seen your pecs, glutes and deltoids, Mr. Dominator, it’s just too bad that last night I became your Mominator. Oh, you didn’t know? I sure as Hell banged that hoe. She told me to give you a message, too, but it might hurt your feelings. The message goes like this: ‘Bobby, I’ve sold my body for some dealin’s.’ Turns out your momma ain’t no saint but a slut, which works out for me ‘cuz all the times I banged her amounts to a glut!”

Bobby: Ò_Ó

Cena: “Oh, and Mr. Kennedy? Don’t think I forgot about you, homey! You say you’re the biggest WWE star, well why don’t you pull your pants down and show me? On second thought, keep your tights on, I wouldn’t wanna blind the crowd with your ‘number one.’ I’m assumin’ that’s in inches, but regardless keep on your britches. Sadly for you, you’re the son of the boss who runs the show. But Mr. McMahon’s a bastard, and this I’m sure you already know. So crawl outta your poppa’s ass, and grow a set o’ balls. Oh, I forgot, you can’t do that ‘cuz you like to play with dolls.”

Mr. Kennedy: ._.

Cena: “So, New Corporation, it goes like this, don’t consider this verbal tirade to be a diss. I’m simply showing you what’s in store for later tonight, because all these fans know that your words are merely trite. John Cena’s words, on the other hand, carry importance and weight, just like the Game’s words when he seduced Stephanie on the first date. You all say you’ve got everything under control and tonight is all about you. I say you’re forgettin’ the fact that this Corporation really isn’t new. It’s a rehashed stable from years and years ago, which is fine ‘cuz you failed that time, too, ya know? I ain’t tryin’ to be a dickhead but we’ve gotta accept the truth, so why don’t you all just give up now and go sit in the loser’s booth? Oh, and one last thing that you really should know: Check out my flow, hit the do’, the Corporation hits low, this you know, but the Throng is gonna mow, you wanna say no, but say it ain’t so. Word life, mother******!”

The crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers and ovations.

JR: "My God, John Cena just verbally destroyed the New Corporation, King!"

King: "I can't deny that, Ross. I think the New Corporation needs some ice for that burn!"

JR: "Ha ha, you damned skippy, hippy!"

King: "...Never say that again."

JR: "Sorry." V_V

The show fades out to commercial. When we return, the cameras cut to Mr. McMahon's office, where the Chairman, as well as his three associates, is livid.

Mr. McMahon: "I hate</B> the Throng. Goddamned bastards. Especially that Cena... oh, that Cena. He's gonna get it. He's gonna get it bad. Damnit to Hell I'm going to annihilate</B> John Cena!"

Mr. Kennedy: "Dad, how are we gonna do that when he's got Trips and Orton on his side?"

Mr. McMahon: "I don't know, son. But we've got to figure out a way to get rid of Triple H and Cena so that we can concentrate on Orton and get that damn title off his scrawny little waist."

Russo: "Hmm... I's gots an idea, Vinnie Mac!"

Lashley (to himself): "You say your name is Cena, and you're a master of rap. I say your name is Cena, and you smell like crap!"

Mr. Kennedy: "Uhh... who are you talking to, Bobby?"

Lashley: "Oh, uh... I was just practicing."

Mr. Kennedy: "Practicing for what?"

Lashley: "I'm gonna challenge Cena to a rap battle later on tonight. I'm gonna dominate him verbally!"

Mr. Kennedy: "Sure, Bobby, you go ahead and do that..." >_>

Mr. McMahon: "Anyway, Russo what's your plan?"

Russo: "Well, we's gots ta wait until da end of da match, when all tree of da men are tiyud. Den, I'll run down dere widda steel chair and kick da snot outta Jawn Cena and Triple H. Dat way dey gets put on da shelf and we gots Orton all ta ourselves."

Mr. McMahon: "Why you conniving little dog... heh, I like it. Yeah..." >:-)

The cameras cut to Santino, who is walking around backstage apparently searching for somebody. He comes across a door that has Ron Simmons's name on it. Santino takes a deep breath and walks in.</I>

Santino: "Ron, I did-a not come in-a here to start a fight-a, ok? I just wanted to say to you-a, man-a to man, dat I hold no hard feelings towards you, and le Maria shall-a be yours." :-)

Ron: >:-[

Santino: "Do you accept my apolog--"

Ron plants Santino with a Dominator.</I>

Ron: "DAMN!"

The cameras cut back to the New Corporation's office. William Regal walks in.</I>

Mr. McMahon: "Ah, General Manager Regal."

Regal: "Mr. McMahon. Mr. Russo."

Mr. McMahon: "What can we do for you?"

Regal: "Well, actually Mr. McMahon I was just curious as to why I have not been utilized as of late."

Mr. McMahon: "Utilized?"

Regal: "Well, pardon my effrontery, sir, but as the General Manager of Raw I assumed that I would carry some responsibility. However, ever since the establishment of your New Corporation I have not had much to do. So, I was hoping that I could be given a task."

Mr. McMahon: "You want a task?"

Regal: "Yes, sir. All in the name of the New Corporation, of course."

Mr. McMahon: "Hmm... well, Regal, I have just the task, and only you could do it!"

Regal: "Splendid."

Mr. McMahon: "Get the Hell outta my office, right now!"

Regal: "I beg your pardon, sir?"

Mr. McMahon: "You heard me, damnit! I have no room for show-offs and power-hungry leeches. Get the Hell outta here right now before I relieve you as General Manager!"

Regal: "...But sir, don't you think it would be useful if--"

Mr. McMahon: "Out."

Regal: "...Yes, sir..."

The cameras cut to the Throng's dressing room, where Orton is caressing his thigh. Cena, HHH and the Coach walk in, catching him in the act.</I>

Coach: "Whoa! Randy, what the Hell are you doing?"

Orton: "Guys! Uh... nothing, nothing."

HHH: "Randy, you were just rubbing your leg."

Orton: "Well, I had a cramp! Is there somethin' wrong with that?"

HHH: "Come on, Randy. You were moaning."

Orton: "Well it hurts! Is it that surprising that I'd moan?"

HHH: "You were calling yourself a sexy *****."

Orton: "Uh... I was just, um... role-playing! Yeah, that's it!"

Cena: "Yo man this is some gangsta **** here! I'm outie!"

Coach: "I'm with Cena. Later, Orton."

Orton: "Guys, come on! I got a charlie horse and I had to rub it out!"

HHH: "Yeah, I know Orton. You love to 'rub one out' all the time." ;-)

Orton: "Very funny, Trips." -_-

HHH: "Well, I'll catch ya later, Randy. Try not to rape your leg anymore..."

Orton: "...whatever, later man."

Triple H leaves, leaving Orton alone in the room once again.</I>

Orton: >_>

<_<

>_>


 * -D

Orton caresses his thigh.</I>

JR: "Ladies and gentlemen, we have to take a commercial break. When we return, it will be a special edition of Carlito's Cabana with the one and only Jeff Hardy!"

The show cuts to commercial. When it returns, the Cabana is all set-up in the ring. Carlito makes his way to the squared circle, wearing a toothy grin.</I>

Carlito: "Welcome to another edition of... <_<... Carlito's Cabana. Tonight's guest is someone who you fans adore, not that I blame you. I mean, you fans are pretty stupid."

Boos.</I>

Carlito: "This man absorbs paint through his forearms and consistently misses his signature Whisper in the Wind move. Tonight's guest... Jeff Hardy!"

Jeff makes his way to the ring accompanied by many cheers.</I>

Carlito: "Jeff, my first question to you is: what's up with your hair?"

King: "Jeff's</B> hair?"

Jeff: @_@

Carlito: "Umm... Jeff, can you answer the question?"

Jeff: @_@

Carlito: >_>

Jeff: "Yeah, man... I totally dig excavation of archaeological sites. That's rad, duuude..." @_@

Carlito: "Uhh, someone needs to get Jeff some water or something..."

Jeff: "Water, man. Yeah. Water. Wow. You know? Water... wow."

Carlito: "Riiiight. Well, I see you're not exactly in the interview mood right now so--"

Santino's music hits and the self-proclaimed Italian Stallion makes his way to the ring.</I>

Santino: "Enuff of-a dis, how you say, horse****!"

Carlito: "What the Hell are you doing? You can't just interrupt Carlito's Cabana!"

Santino: "Silence your mouth, Meester Caribbean! Your fro is, how you say, nappy as Hell!"

Carlito: "How dare you talk to Carlito like that?!"

Jeff: "Nappy, man. Wow..."

Santino: "I came out-a here because of dat goombah named Ron Simmons. I tried to humble myself and-a dat monster attacked-a me. I was-a backstabbed, and I will have-a no more of it!"

Carlito: "You said you were backstabbed?"

Santino: "That's-a right, I was-a backstabbed!"

Carlito: "...Santino, you're not backstabbed..."

Carlito hits the Backstabber on Santino.</I>

Carlito: "...until your Backstabbed!"

Jeff: "Whoa, dude, you just totally stabbed his back. Heh, get it? Backstabber? Wow, that's funny..."

Londrick run out to the ring and celebrate with Carlito for destroying Santino. Just then, Umaga makes his way to the ring and wipes out Londrick, as well as Carlito and Jeff.</I>

Jeff: "Damn, man, we just got our asses kicked. Wow... I mean that hurt."

The cameras cut back to the Throng's dressing room, where all four men are now conversing amongst one another. William Regal enters, and is accosted by all four individuals.</I>

Regal: "Gentlemen, gentlemen. I am not here to start trouble. I am requesting that we put our differences aside and you allow me to join your group. Mr. McMahon is a pathetic specimen, and I wish to join the Throng."

Cena: "Regal, we ain't stupid. We're not fallin' for your trap again. Get the Hell outta here!"

Regal: "But I'm telling the--"

<I>The Throng shove Regal out of their dressing room.</I>

Orton: "Can you guys believe him?"

HHH: "What a fruitcake. Alright, so anymore insight as to what these notes mean?"

Cena: "I have no idea, man. What the Hell is HKNBTM.2.NC supposed to mean?"

HHH: "Or IronXIIForLife?"

Orton: "Or Ambrosial Cleft Sonata?"

Coach: "Or Hell#1?"

Orton/Cena/HHH: "What?"

Coach: "I got a note, too."