PCW Update and Flashback to Loose Cannons Unleashed 2006
Despite Hillary Clinton’s protest, it’s official for next months PCW Loose Cannons Unleashed 4. PCW champion Starz N. Stripes with John McCain in his corner will defend the title against the ‘New Rookie Sensation’ O’Beck Bahama, seconded by Barack Obama.
No PCW Extreme Political TV this week.
In the meantime, here’s a excerpt from the new novel Loose Cannons and Other Weapons of Mass Political Destruction that’s based directly from a 2006 match at BCEW Loose Cannons 2 pay per view. Enjoy.
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33. The Big Swerve
“Well folks, they’re back and they’re not ready to make nice,” Suave announced as the Dixie Chucks headed for the ring. “It’s the Dixie Chucks and it looks like they want to air more of their grievances.”
The audience greeted the trio with the usual chorus of boos.
Chuck-atalie grabbed the microphone. “Shut the hell up!” he bellowed, acting as if he was struggling to control his anger. “You all are just a bunch of ignorant haters!”
“Yeah. There’s one way to get them on your side,” quipped Suave.
“You’re all no better than the jerks that sent the death threats to the Dixie Chicks.”
Chuck-artie spoke next. “Like we said before…you don’t have to like what they have to say but those women still have the right to speak their mind!”
Then Chuck-mily stepped up and added, “It’s a &#$#-ing injustice what’s happened to the Dixie Chicks.”
“Go buy their new CD!” chimed in Chuck-atalie. “It rocks!”
“That’s right,” Chuck-artie added. “If you don’t like the new CD, then you can all kiss our asses!”
And with that, the Dixie Chucks climbed back out of the ring.
“Strong words from the Dixie Chucks!” Suave said. “And I have to say that I agree with them about the way the Dixie Chicks was treated. Death threats? I mean, come on. This IS America, yes?”
“I object to that!” shouted some guy wearing a big ‘News Bluster’ t-shirt. He ran across the stage and parked himself next to Suave.
“And who the hell are you?”
“I am News Bluster!” the man replied. “I run a right-wing blog where every day I take on left-wing media bias!”
“And I guess you’re implying that I am somehow biased?”
“Well, yes! It’s a well know fact that the left wing have always used their sympathizers in the news media to further their extreme liberal agenda.”
“But we’re not talking about the extreme left-wing agenda,” argued Suave. “We’re talking about a music group receiving death threats just for speaking their mind! I think that’s wrong!”
“So you agree with the Dixie Chicks! SEE! I KNEW you were biased!”
“That’s ridiculous-” Toby Keith’s “How Do You Like Me Now?” interrupted Suave mid-sentence. “Hold on, I believe the Dixie Chuck’s arch-enemies, Locke and Loade, are coming out to respond.”
Earl Locke and Gary Loade came from the back with microphones in hand and met the Dixie Chucks halfway between the side stage door and the ring.
“Now hold on a second, pardner,” Locke said to the departing Dixie Chucks. “Now I appreciate y’all sticking up for the Dixie Chicks and such. But isn’t free speech a two way street!” Locke turned to the crowd. “Am I right?”
The crowd agreed.
Loade took the microphone. “So, if the Chicks have the right to speak their peace, don’t the people who disagree with them have a right to speak their peace, too?”
“Well? Yeah. I guess that makes sense,” Suave admitted.
“Death threats aside, and we all agree that’s just plain wrong, it seems to me that if the Chicks are going to rip on people then they’d better be prepared to be ripped on in return,” Loade opined.
Suave nodded his head. “Okay. That sounds reasonable.”
“Freedom of speech doesn’t guarantee freedom from the consequences,” Locke interjected.
“Wow. That was pretty articulate and, well, almost out of character.”
“HOLD IT!” another voice shouted. Another man came out from the back. This gentleman wore a ‘Media Muckers for America’ t-shirt.
“Who are you?” Suave asked.
“I am Media Muckers for America,” the man said, “I run a left-wing blog who fights right-wing lies. I object to the fact that you are allowing the right wing to spew propaganda on your airwaves!”
“And how is that…” Suave snapped his fingers. “No wait, I’ve got it. Just because I agreed with something that Locke and Loade said, in your eyes it constitutes some kind of conservative bias on my part…right?”
“You’re helping to push their extreme right-wing agenda by agreeing with their statement! We at Media Muckers for America simply can’t stand for that!”
“Again, I simply agreed with a point that was made!”
“The right-wing and the religious right are trying to force their views onto all of us!”
“Well, yeah, that may be the case. But that has nothing to do with my opinion of Locke and Loade’s take.”
“BIASED!” screeched Media Muckers for America. “YOU’RE BIASED!”
“Oh, bite me!” snapped Suave. “Let’s back to the ring! It looks like it’s time for the Progressive Alliance’s Justin Sufferable to get his shot at the BCEW title!”
“I OBJECT!” shouted News Bluster. “You’re inferring that the Progressive Alliance deserves to get this title shot and that’s biased against the American Patriots!”
Suave shot News Bluster a nasty glare. “And it appears the CEO of BCEW is coming out. I can tell because there’s always that God-awful mariachi band leading the way.”
W indeed was going again to the ring. Following the rag-tag mariachi band playing “Hail to the Chief” excruciatingly off key, W, his aide de camp Dick, and Carl “The Mastermind” Rowe all convoyed to the ring. Waiting impatiently, Justin Sufferable warmed up in one of the corners. He stretched his legs and back and bounced off the ring ropes a couple times. Sufferable was focused, primed, and ready.
W took the microphone from Earl Fletcher. Dick and the Mastermind took up positions behind him.
“I’m afraid that I some bad news to announce,” W said solemnly. “BCEW champion Rafael Barry Gambee-”
“ROIDS!” shouted the crowd.
“Knew that was coming,” quipped Suave.
“As I was saying, the champion…” W then went out of his way not to say his name. “…you know…who…has suffered an injury and will not be able to defend the title tonight.”
“What?” exclaimed Suave.
“You should say that he’s lying!” Media Muckers for America said. “Because everyone knows the right-wing lies!”
“How do you know that the champion is not injured?”
“See! You’re biased!”
“Justin Sufferable is pissed,” announced Suave, trying to move the commentary back to the action in the ring. “And he has every right to be!”
“Now you’re reading the talking points of the left wing extremists!” claimed News Bluster.
“No I’m not! I’m calling the action as I see it! And the way I see it, Justin Sufferable has every right in the world to be upset!”
“I object to you using the term right,” Media Muckers for America barked in Suave’s ear. “It alludes that the conservatives and American Patriots are-”
“THAT’S IT! I’VE HAD IT WITH YOU TWO.” Suave jumped up and grabbed both Media Muckers for America and News Bluster by the hair. Forcefully, he slammed their heads together…
*BONK*
…and knocked them both out.
Suave looked down at his handiwork. “There,” he said, looking very satisfied. “Much better.”
Inside the ring, the situation looked bleak for Justin Sufferable as he found himself completely surrounded by the American Patriots. A. Tom Bomb, aka A-Bomb, was on one side. Hy Drogen Bomb or H-Bomb faced Justin. ‘Silent but Deadly’ Newt Tron Bomb, aka N-Bomb, stood behind Sufferable. Dick and ‘The Mastermind’ Carl Rowe blocked any other escape route.
“This doesn’t look good!” Suave stated.
The Mastermind pointed a finger at his temple to again remind everyone just what a freakin’ genius he was. With Sufferable distracted by The Mastermind, A-Bomb launched himself at him and it was on. A-Bomb, H-Bomb, and N-Bomb stomped away at Sufferable while Dick and ‘The Mastermind’ cheered them. A-Bomb picked Sufferable up and slammed him hard to the canvas.
“HOLY CRAP! ATOMIC POWER BOMB!” shrieked Suave.
H-Bomb kept stomping away along with N-Bomb. A-Bomb pulled Sufferable back up and held him upright.
“Oh, I don’t like this!” Suave said.
“See,” a weak voice mumbled from the floor. “You’re-”
“Shut up!” said Suave as he stomped on News Bluster’s back. “They’re holding up Sufferable. Why are A-Bomb and N-Bomb putting on gas masks………oh, oh.”
Newt Tron Bomb turned his back on Sufferable and backed up his rear end into his face.
“Aw, man, he’s going for…oh-…oh my God! That smell- SILENT BUT DEADLY! SILENT BUT DEADLY! Geez…”
Overcome by the noxious fumes, Sufferable crumpled to the canvas.
Over the loudspeaker, the opening notes to the Fleetwood Mac classic “Don’t Stop” began to play.
“Wait a minute!” Suave excitedly said. “I know that song.”
A man dressed in a flannel shirt, holding a mocha in one hand and a Singapore cane in the other, stepped out of the shadows in the back.
“And I know that guy!” Suave added. “HE’S BACK!”
The crowd merrily sang along to the Fleetwood Mac song as the man dressed in flannel started towards the stage. In the ring, all three Bomb Brothers stopped assaulting Justin Sufferable to see who was causing the commotion.
“IT’S THE TREE HUGGIN’, MOCHA CHUGGIN,’ TOBACCO COMPANY BUGGIN,’ INSANE SINGAPORE CANE SWINGING ALPHA MALE AND EXTREME ENVIRONMENTAL HARDCORE ICON- AL GOHR!”
As the sing along continued, Gohr held up his mocha, contained inside an environmentally friendly biodegradable cup of course, and chugged it down. Gohr crushed the paper cup on his forehead in an alpha manly fashion. Gohr then spewed the mocha out of his mouth like a geyser going off and sprayed several tables in close proximity.
“Look at the expression on Dick’s face!” Suave commented. Dick’s eyes bulged out and what little hair on his head stood up straight.
Gohr moved up to the head of the stage and turned around to face the crowd. He pulled out another cup of mocha and held it high in the air. Again, Gohr chugged down the mocha, crushed the container against his forehead, and spit the mocha onto several tables. He jumped on stage without using the steps and advanced on the American Patriots inside the ring. Like most of the wrestlers who came out to confront someone, Gohr carried a microphone with him.
“You know, the Earth may someday cross the line of no return and suffer the devastating effects of global warming,” Gohr said, pointing at W. “But the inconvenient truth tonight is that you, W, have crossed the line!”
W mumbled something unintelligible back to the Extreme Environmental Hardcore Icon.
“You’ve gone too far. You see W. I know why the BCEW champion can’t wrestle tonight,” Gohr calmly continued. “The real reason the champ isn’t here is because he dropped dead from abusing steroids and right now is hanging up in the freezer here at Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon!”
“HOLY CRAP!” Suave said. “THE CHAMP IS DEAD?”
W’s eyes were ablaze with fury.
“That is categorically not true!” he indignantly responded. W turned to his aide de camp. “Dick! Tell them it’s not true.”
Dick hemmed, hawed, and generally avoided answering the question.
Gohr pulled out a remote control from his back pocket. “Don’t believe me? That’s okay.” He pointed over to the big screen TV just off to the side of the ring. “Watch this.”
“I have a feeling I’m not going to like this,” an increasingly nauseous Carolanne Wilson muttered.
“Well,” Trevor said, “I guess it depends how far they decide to take it.”
The big screen TV blipped on. A waitress carrying a tray back in the kitchen area opened up the freezer door.
“AIIEEEEEEEEEE!”
Her high-pitched scream pierced the air. The waitress let go of her tray and it plummeted to the ground. Beer mugs and bottles shattered all over the floor. Her eyes rolled up into the back of head. She let out a gasp and suddenly fainted. When the waitress fell out of the shot, through the open door very clearly was the icicle covered, blue skinned, frozen body of BCEW champion Rafael Barry Gambee.
Carolanne covered her eyes. “Yep, I was right.”
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