Raw

[opera142]

The Wrestlemania Yearbook Portraits still decorated the All State. One row is Vince, Shane, Steph, HHH, Carlito. Poor Bon-Bon. Poor Todd. Will he and Shane's love ever get the same air time as HHH/Steph?

Best Sign Ever: I'm with Studid (sic) ---->

Cena brought himself, his belt and his pride to the ring. After learning us right on popularity and adversity, and standing up for yourself, he claimed: Last night, Hunter and I beat the Hell out of each other.

No you didn't. You and Hunter's little tete-a-tete was about as violent as a church craft sale.

HHH burst through the curtains. Sadly, not wearing the hair cape or wielding his styrofoam sledgehammer. C'mon, HHH I had a line of jokes idling on the runway: HHHagar the Horrible, Spinal Tap-out, gaming references aplenty, and best of all, TopKnot's the Cerebral Assassin of Gor. The styrofoam hammers could have been a merchandising cash cow.

HHH extended his hand; Cena's promo was as long and boring and point-deficient as any HHH has even done. Put 'er there! Cena hesitated, then went for it, and then HHH psyched him out. Even did the brush-the-hair-back move. Ouch. Keep an eye on your lunch money, Johnny. And don't give out your gym locker combination.

Trips and Cena squabbled a bit about the outcome of their match. But it turned out HHH was yelling at Cena to disguise his own hurt-- he's mad at himself for underestimating Cena. And before, he and Cena can work that out and save their love, out came Edge.

Crap.

From there on, it was all SNAPZ.

HHH: I took a nap and missed your title reign.
Edge: I could have napped after my match at Wrestlemania, but I stayed up and watched you tap out.
HHH: Maybe I should knock you out.
Oh no, they didn't go there. Oh no, they didn't go there. Oh no, they didn't go there

Then Edge realized it had been at least 5 minutes since he whined. So he bleated about his 2nd degree burns and the tacks and how too much soda gives him a bad tummy and once he stubbed his toe on his nightstand, and sometimes at night, he can still feel it.

Eventually, someone remembered they were in a wrestling ring. Perhaps, they should wrestle. But, later. Not now. Some moves were shown on the Tron during entrances; there doesn't need to be any more wrestling in this segment.

Cena: How about you two fight each other for the number one contender for my belt?"
HHH: How about Edge and you fight?
Edge: I've got boo-boo's from last night. How about you and Cena fight.
HHH: How about we fight Cena in a handicap match. That is, unless the champ is a 'fraidy cat.
Cena: I should say no, but I cannot refuse such baiting comments. You got your match, bitches.

Big Show and Sweet Daddy Sugar Kane Vs. The Spirit Squad for the Tag Team titles.

The Spirit Squad scampered about the ring like a litter of athletically-gifted kittens. So little and cute and prone to licking each other. Kane pretended disgruntlement, but really, he was shining up his spoon and fork for a bondage buffet. Big Show seemed pleased; he likes it when Kane's thinking buffet.

A comedy match, more than anything. NotAmused!Kane chased Squadies. Smashed them when he got the chance. Banged his shoulder on the Steel Turnbuckle(tm), and had to tag out. Show in, and the Squad had to band together. They each took a limb of Show, alofted him then dropped him to the mat. Kenny hit a spastic leg drop, and got the pin.

Joey Styles: Holy crap!
Opera: Holy cats!
Kane: WTF?
Coach: Don't hate. Appreciate.

Hopefully this means the bondaging shall begin anew.

Post-commercial, Rob stood proudly atop the ramp. Glass ceiling, please meet the shard-creating Boot of Talent. Waiting for the perfect time to cash in one's Money In the Bank requires e x t r e m e patience. Subtlety, please meet the blatant Boot of the Obvious.

The Rob buzz was soon killed by the appearance of Masters. Who in his rage had no time for posing or cape-wearing. There was a jobber yonder, and he needed to be squashed. Full Nelson comes early. Mercy or a lack of other moves-- you make the call.

The squash over, Carlito trotted out. Baring a locket and an apple and a smile. Upon reaching Masters, the smile turned to frown, and the apple was chewed most angrily. Just as Masters was about to trounce the Bon-Bon for hating on his crappy "wrestling" like everyone else, Carlito turned and sprayed the jobber. The squabble from Wrestlemania has been forgotten.

Or has it? When Master turned his back, Carlito gave him the Back Cracker. A scuffle ensued. Carlito's apple absconded. When it came time for Carlito to spit in the face of the uncool Masters, the bon-bon was appleless. This led to a cry of "Where's my motherfucking apple?" and a long UNintentionally funny minute of Carlito and the ring crew searching for the apple. Finally, the apple was found and rolled to Carlito. Banged-up and dirty. The Bon-Bon was having none of that. Masters got a tropical loogie instead.

HBK strolled out next. Liliac suit and yellow tie. I wonder if he has Easter chaps. He wonders aloud why he too can't beat up John Cena.

Shane came out to answer that... no wait, he came out to introduce Vince. Vince was adorned in the tiredest of all comedy props: the neck brace.

Vince: My son, Shane, is psychologically and emotionally scarred for life. You handcuffed him to the ring and made him watch while you took liberties with me.

Eat that bit of canon dialogue, Good Charlotte fandom.

Vince: Shawn, I've got two words you.
HBK: No Vince. I've got two words for you.
Audience: Suck it.
Opera: Please no X-pac. Please. I'll cheer John Cena. I will.
Vince: Two words, Shawn. Divine Intervention. Sometime during our fight last night, our match turned into a handicap match. It became me versus you and God. So at Backlash, it will be HBK and God Vs. me and the product of my semen, Shane!
Shane: -_-

But, Benoit is on the Raw brand.

Coach: We've never booked the good Lord before.

Tag match: Trish & Torrie Vs. Mickie & Candice. Erg. Total reversal of Sunday's goodness. Sloppy, boring, bland. Mickie's got Trish's feathered, faux-Farrah 'do. I demand piggies and peeks of round ass.

Chavo Vs. Shelton (in Terminator shades).

Tilt-a-whirl head scissors, but otherwise low key. Chavo lost, doubted himself in an interview with Todd, then quit.

Lance, Christian, Jericho, Tajiri: Yay! Come be with us.

Flair entered the ring and wooo'd and frothed about something. Then a Cuban interrupted him. Hermando Alejandro Estrade likes the cash money. To demonstrate, he held up one (1) one-hundred dollar bill. He also ordered Jamal Humungo to attack Flair.

I give this gimmick 3 minutes.

Edge, Lita, and HHH conversed long-windedly in the gorilla position. The audience could be heard from the other side of the curtain, which was kinda cool. Their main topic, I think, was that each was trying to trick the other into taking the brunt of Cena's beating-to-be-delivered-momentarily. They agree to share the beating, but Hunter had his fingers crossed.

Match-wise. Hunter sat for most of it. The King spoke of Edge's "rear end". Edge and HHH's teaming fell apart, and HHH and Cena took turns punching him-- much to the massive amusement of the Soap Opera in My Head. Just as Cena was going 5-Knuckle Shuffle Edge, HHH Pedigree'd Cena. Fine with me. Hunter was getting my default cheers.

Comments

[topknot.livejournal.com]

C'mon, HHH I had a line of jokes idling on the runway: HHHagar the Horrible, Spinal Tap-out, gaming references aplenty, and best of all, Topknot's the Cerebral Assassin of Gor.

I'm DYING here! Spinal Tap-out!

[yesdrizella.livejournal.com]

Dearest Opera, the Observer is reporting that young Randall K. Orton has been suspended for 60 days due to "unprofessional conduct". How I anticipate your wealth of shit-in-a-bag jokes in the days to come.

[saturdayshoes.livejournal.com]

Thus answering the long standing question of Austin Powers movies past - who does number 2 work for?

Randall K. Orton, that's who.

[sorchar.livejournal.com]

You and Hunter's little tete-a-tete was about as violent as a church craft sale.

Obviously, you've never witnessed two little old ladies fighting over the last off-brand-Barbie-with-the-crocheted-dress-that-covers-your-spare-roll-of-toilet-paper. (I'm sure there's probably a shorter name for those but I have no idea what it is.)

[zuzulous.livejournal.com]

I don't even read Matt's Raw Satire anymore. I get my recaps from Opera.

Feel free to use that as testimonial advertising.

[opera142.livejournal.com]

I'm Zu-Approved!