______________________
9:01 p.m.
 

Some arena in Florida
 

The Corporate Ministry slowly filed into the arena, with Shane McMahon and the Undertaker leading the pack.
 
 

'I'm da man. I'm da bomb.' Shane thought to himself, strutting. 'I bet Chyna's checking out my ass. Can't blame her. I'm one hot dude!'
 
 

Triple H quirked an eyebrow, 'Man. Shane's got a nice ass.'
 
 

Meanwhile the Undertaker frowned. 'Dammit, Bossman just hit me in the ass with his nightstick again!' He turned around and glared at the former prison cop, who seemed oblivious. Taker hmph'd and continued on his haughty way. 'I hate this robe. I look like a cartoon character! Wait...I have my own comic...I guess it's fitting. Damn it's hot under this thing. And the hood keeps falling over my eyes! I oughta fire my hairstylist, she tied my hair back too tightly again! I can see my brain when I roll my eyes back. That can't be a good thing.'
 
 

Bossman chawed on his gum as he pondered many of life's great mysteries. 'If the
pyramids were built by slaves, why didn't they just build a pool? Is the leaning tower of
Pisa leaning because it has to fart? Why is it called 'Pisa' and not 'Pizza'? Why is Taker
wearing that robe? I keep tripping on it. Oops. I think I just hit him in the ass with my
nightstick again.'
 
 

'Why do I hang out with these losers?' Chyna asked herself silently, adjusting her
outfit. 'I mean, take Shane...he's a twenty-eight-year-old wigger who couldn't act to
save his life. Then there's Bossman with his damn nightstick. He's such a hick.
Undertaker's not so bad, but his hair looks HORRIBLE! Maybe I should loan him some of my
extentions. Hmm, Triple H...he's not so bad, but he keeps checking out Shane's ass. This
disturbs me greatly. Why isn't he looking at MY ass?!'
 
 

Viscera and Midian waxed poetically: 'My life sucks.'
 
 

Meanwhile, in the ring...
 
 

Is Triple H checking out Shane's ass? Whoa, how desperate is he? Wuh oh, I think
Taker's eyes are going to pop out of his head. He must have gotten that mean stylist that
pulls your hair back until you can see your brain. Why does Bossman keep slapping Taker on
the ass?, thought The Big Show to himself.
 
 

Mankind on the other hand was considering household matters. Do I hear a canopener?
I could have sworn I heard a canopener. I know I did. There it goes again! Who's running
that canopener?!
 
 

Meanwhile, in Kenny's brain: I think I left my canopener running backstage. Whoa...
Chyna's butt is going to fall out of her shorts. Hehehe.... Bossman smacked Taker in the
ass. Again.
 
 

Jump to Test's brain: This can't be good. Something is wrong. When I looked in the
mirror, my reflection was different. My left was on my right, and my right was on my left.
I'll bet this is the work of the Negaverse. Hey! I can see my brain! I must have gotten
that nice stylist, 'Bertha'. Boy, for a woman with a prison record, she sure is nice!
 
 

Inside Vince's brain: 'In this tank top, I look like I have boobs. Hell, what do I
need Linda for any more?! Damn that Bertha woman, she put my toupee on too tight again! I
think I'll fire her. Why is Bossman smacking Taker on the ass?'
 
 

Undertaker was not pleased. 'I'm going to kill Bossman. It's not like my ass is out
on display like Chyna's!'
 
 

Chyna frowned. 'Who said that?'
 
 

'Oh hell, Shawn's back.' Triple H grumped to himself. 'WHY?! WHY?! I'M THE TOP
BLOND IN THIS COMPANY!! I WORKED LONG AND HARD TO GET WHERE I AM--hey, that sounds funny.
Hehehehehe. Long and hard. Hehehehe. Where was I? Oh yeah...I'M THE TOP BLOND AROUND HERE!
Mmm, blonds...I wonder what Edge and Christian are doing after the show?'
 
 

Somewhere backstage, Edge and Christian's heads snapped up. The ones on their
shoulders, you fools! Yeesh.
 
 

"Helmsley's having nasty thoughts about us again," Christian whimpered
fearfully.
 
 

"If I weren't so afraid of my pants falling down and giving him ideas, I'd beat
him up!" Edge proclaimed while adjusting his tights, which had fallen around his
ankles.
 
 

"DAMMIT EDGE, YOU'RE NOT WEARING ANY UNDERWEAR!!"
 
 

Back on Bossman's wavelength...'Mustn't let Test get nightstick!' He reached up
and grabbed a handful of trunks, yanking down. 'JESUS M.F. CHRIST ON A POPSICLE STICK!
What an ass!'
 
 

'Wow, it suddenly got cold in here!' Test looked down. 'Oh hell, my pants fell
down again! That's the last time I let Edge borrow them! I'm so embarrassed, I'm mooning
people all over the world! I have a nice ass, but still...Wait!
Moon...Sailormoon...Negaverse! OHMYGOD! THE MCMAHONS ARE ACTUALLY EVIL DOUBLE AGENTS FROM
THE DARK KINGDOM!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!' Standing up and adjusting his shorts, Test
screamed, "SAILORMOON KICK!!" while delivering a devestating kick to Bossman's
stomach. "LONG LIVE THE SCOUTS!!"
 
 

Meanwhile, in HBK's brain [backstage], Why was Hunter checking out Shane's ass? He
never checked out MY ass.... I think I'll put him in a deadend match up for that. *sniff
sniff* Eww... someone just farted back here. I wonder who it was. Ah hells, it'll go
away soon. Whoa, Edge is sticking a metal wire in an electrical socket. Should I go stop
him? Nah, his brother is there, his brother will protect [BZZZZZZAAAPPP] him.
Or not...
 
 

Flash to Gangrel's brainwaves. Where's a Snapple machine? I have to have some Kiwi
Strawberry, it makes the best fake blood! What am I supposed to spit if there's no Kiwi
Strawberry?! What if there's not a Snapple machine? What will we do the blood bath
with?!?!? But then, to Gangrel's relief, he comes upon a Snapple machine. Pulling out
a box of change, he begins to stock up for the night. Okay, I need 3 cans for me, and
300 for the Blood bath. One. Two. Three. Four.
 
 

Switch to Christian, Doesn't Gangrel realize he could buy gallon jars of Hawaiian
Punch? But noooo, vampire boy has to buy 303 cans of Snapple EVERYTIME.... geez, what a
goober.
 
 

Over to Edge, who's sprawled on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling: 'Hmmm. That's
one hundred times I've stuck this peice of metal into the light socket, and each time I
got the same result. Maybe I should use my finger next time!'
 
 

Back to Christian, 'Why is Edge sticking his finger in the [BRRRRRRRRRZAP!]
light socket? Ah well. Oh hell, Gangrel's got his arm stuck in the Snapple machine again!
Guess I'd better go get the jaws of life...'
 
 

Gangrel sighed heavily. 'Can't...quite...reach...Snapple! *whap* OW! WHAT WAS
THAT?!' He looked up and saw Luna standing behind him, weilding her wand like a
baseball bat. "Oh...hi dear...heh heh, I can explain this..."
 
 

"EXPLAIN!" Luna bellowed, tapping her foot in annoyance. 'Gods, he's
getting as stupid as Edge. I must stop this.'
 
 

Switch away from this scene of domestic violence, and to the locker room of the NAO.
 
 

Road Dogg: *sniff sniff* Eww... I don't think Billy has changed his socks. Ever.
Note to self, sic Hunter on Billy for not changing his socks. I hear a weird noise. It
isn't someone crawling around in the ceiling is it? Gods I hope not. Last time I heard
something crawling in the ceiling, some guy called and asked me what my favorite movie was
before trying to kill me! No, wait... that was Scream II. Hmm... what *did* happen last
time someone was crawling around in the ceiling? Giant snake? No, that was Anaconda.
Killer monkeys? No, that was Congo. Vampire? No, that was Blade. No... wait, that was
Gangrel, trying to reach the Snapple machine before showtime. What a goober.
 
 

Billy Gunn: I am stuck on Band-Aid brand cuz Band-Aids stick on me. That's a catchy
tune. Maybe I should make that my theme music. I bet it would ROCK!
 
 

Skip over to Kane's mind. They don't pay me enough for this. ONE SLEEVE! THEY GAVE
ME ONE SLEEVE! And a midget idiot who likes to waggle his tongue. I don't care how cute
they think it is to rip the sleeve off my costume every Monday, I'm going to start locking
the locker room. What's touching my leg? OH MY GOD! ITS X-PAC! Back away, Demon Spawn!
 
 

Meanwhile, in X-Pac's brain: Must get rid of wedgie. Hey! I bet if I brace myself against Kane's leg, I can get rid of it! Oh hell, he thinks I'm making a pass at him. LIke
I'd want a guy with only one sleeve! Oy vey. Spandex wedgie... cutting off flow of oxygen
to brain...... *falls over*
 
 

Kane: ALRIGHT! HE'S DEAD! Waitaminnit... damnit, he's still breathing!
 
 

Over in the Rock's dressing room...
 
 

'Dammit, Kane and X-Pac are going at it again. The Rock thinks that's disgusting. The
Rock's delicate ears do not need to hear such filth. The Rock needs complete and utter
serenity to come up with new catchphrases. Do people think they just write themselves?!
No! It takes The Rock hours to think up newer, fresher, funnier ones! The Rock feels
disrespected. This isn't just a crime against The Rock, it's a crime against the People!
Hey! A penny! Hot damn! It's The Rock's lucky day!'
 
 

Skipping over to Austin: 'This knee brace just doesn't go with anything in my
wardrobe. Maybe I should get it custom painted with little duckies--I mean smoking skulls!
Yeah! With BMF down the side! Kick-ass! ...What was I thinking about?'
 
 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the arena...
 
 

The Godfather stood in the middle of his dressing room, scratching his head. 'Well
this is odd. I KNOW I brought my gear in with me earlier. I left it over there in the
corner. Where the hell is it now?'
 
 

"Godfather! You're on in ten!"
 
 

"Damn!"
 
 

Over to Edge's brainwave: 'Wow, now I know why the Godfather likes this stuff so
much! I look damn good in polyester, damn good!' He began to strut down the hallway,
earning him strange looks and sending several wrestlers into uncontrolable fits of mirth.
 
 

Christian, reluctantly, approached his brother. "Um, Edge? Why are you wearing the
Godfather's clothes?"
 
 

"I'm Pimp Master Edge, foo'! Where be my ho's?!"
 
 

"Good god, have mercy on our souls," Christian muttered as he wandered off to
find someone cool to hang out with.