Sweet, sweet NXT

[opera142]

As is his habit, Master Stryker lines up his tiny-pantied young charges according to rank and favor. Once all is to his liking, he sets them to their first task of the night: a 30-second speech on an unknown subject.

I don't really get this kink, but I hope Master Stryker deals harshly with grammatical errors (though, having heard him misuse "whom", it's kinda-sorta less fun to watch grammatical punishment when the dealer deserves a little of his own. Where oh where is the Darque Mistryss of the Ramada now?)

Pre-grammartasking Master Stryker gets all grabby hands. Whom can blame him? Justin Gabriel is standing right there, and he's in his tiniest, vinyliest panties yet. Also, his tan makes up for his hair.

Anyway, a list of rookies and their subjects:

Daniel: Would AJ Styles wear abandoned leather pants he found on a locker room bench?
Wade: Isn't it funny Jericho has a butler?
Justin: Sitting in a ditch, in the rain
Heath: Mesopotamia and the rise of the cereal culture
David: Rooning
Skip: Stone Cold Steve Austin For Dummies
Tarver: Whose bright idea was it to put a window in front of the sun
Darrin: John Cena For Dummies

Daniel Bryan reveils two secrets weapons: his knowledge of cheap heat (ILU ENGLAND) and the sweetest smile on God's green earth. Justin makes up in pretty what he lack in verbal skills. Wade Barett may become my favorite tall, dark and handsome thing ever. If only he would throw off that sinister butler disguise and go back to the cruel, haughty noble he is. Go have whiskey and fox hunts with Regal on the totally inaccurate English estate of my imagination.

Wade wins handily, because DUH British accent. The joy of grammartasking is over too quickly, and NXT plods into a segment of beefy recap, rich with the meaty juices of Batista.

Backstage, Punk is yelling at everyone about everything. When your Straight Edge Savior ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. Luke, trying to help, calls Darrin a punk. Punk is all -____-

In the ring, Jericho and his butler (-___-, just like my hero Punk) await Christain. ZOMG U GUYS. SOIMYCHATFICLOL. Plus back breakers. ZOMG Tilt-a-whirl back breakers. Multiple tilt-a-whirl back breakers. Slapping, Jericho complaining, flippy shit, high-flying, Christian giving everyone dirty looks, random backstage shots of Carlito in street clothes and headbands...ILU STEPH SO SO VERY MUCH.

But as always, my love is shat upon. For no reason at all, the faces cheat to win. Then celebrate as though they hadn't. WTH, Steph? Why?

Nxt (geddit?LOL), a fluff piece of David Otunga. Whatever Steph.

Miz tries to make up to me by bitching out Daniel. Verbal humiliation and manhandling and musing of hair and frothing at the lips, I really am that easy. Daniel vs. Regal was 9 kinds of delicious, worrisome business.

The ME had zero delicious bits. Punk was ringside in a hoodie, but the cameraman, at Steph's size 12 behest I'm sure, never showed him. We wouldn't want to miss a second of Luke vs. Darrin in a Hair vs. I-don't-think-anything-oh-what-Darrin-absolved-of-something-or-other match. Random M. Hardy (hair in a bun!) and Justin backstage shot. Nice try, Steph. Whatever.

Darrin wins and Punk holds his hand aloft.