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WWE, 2005
Text by Sean Carless
 
Warning: Sean Carless is what *some* people might call a "drinking man". Continuity, Consistency and Coherency may be absent at some/all/every times. Discretion is not only encouraged, it's allowed. [/Batista].

He lies! He cheats! He provides the necessary semen to father another man's child?

It is the year 2005. The evil Decepticons have taken back their home planet of Cybertron. Wait. You’ll have to excuse me. I was just watching my DVD of Transformers the Movie...

Anyway, it is the year 2005. Rey Mysterio and Eddie Guerrero have restarted their historic rivalry. A rivalry that once saw WCW rocked to its very core, changing how the company viewed wrestling forever!—until 20 minutes later when Hulk Hogan and Roddy Piper eradicated all of that in a match so slow, that time moved backwards, transporting Tony Schiavone, Mike Tenay and us all back to an age when man had yet to step from the primordial ooze and was still basically pond scum. My point is—and yes I do have one. I think—is that this was a ready-made rivalry that required no bells and whistles and gimmickry to make it more interesting. It was simply two very talented men that hated each other kicking the crap out of one another. One man had a mullet the size of the famed cap worn by American folk-hero Davy Crockett. While the other a full-bodied purple zebra-striped bodysuit, custom-sewed for a malnourished child’s body. It was something we could all relate to. Kind of.

You see, Wrestling at its root is simple. Sometimes you just need to stick two dudes in a ring and watch them fight. That’s it. No hoopla; no ballyhoo. Just wrestling. No fetus-cum-hands. No beer trucks filled with sewage; no nets hanging from the ceiling filled with shit, no urine in a teapot, or secret enchiladas filled with diarrhea-inducing druggery. Just plain old fashioned wrestling.

I mean, really. People didn’t feel the need to "jazz up" Steamboat and Flair by having Naitch secretly put Viagra in Ricky's drink backstage so he could win via count-out when the Dragon desperately scurried from the ring to cover his raging hard-on. It was good enough on its own. Even without the workrate quality penis Dave Meltzer would have no doubt given ****1/4. And they sure didn’t need to build extra tension between Bret & Owen by showing secret footage of Bret putting a slumbering Rocket's hand in a glass of warm water causing the King of Harts to fill his unitard with liquid shame. (Enough is enough and it’s time for a change of clothes!). Sometimes two people who hate each other fighting is GOOD ENOUGH.

This rivalry was the perfect example of that phenomenon. But mess with it they did. And then some.

And how pray-tell do you improve upon a rivalry that basically started out as simple as Eddie Guerrero is frustrated that he cannot defeat Rey Mysterio no matter how hard he tries? Does he, I don't know, Unmask him? End his career? GO ALL OUT TO LEGALLY ADOPT HIS SON AND THUS DESTROY HIS LIFE, KINDA SORTA? If you answered that, well, not only do you get a complimentary straight-jacket, but a well-deserved position in WWE Creative! Welcome aboard! And remember to keep your hands up because feces really hurts when thrown quickly. Those monkeys have great aim.

In any event, our story started in early spring when Eddie and Rey began what was a "friendly" rivalry. As friendly as full-on kicking your friend in the face and crashing your full bodyweight on top of his prone body from high places could be.

Eventually, this rivalry disintegrated into a full-on obsession for Eddie to *finally* defeat Rey, if only because Vince McMahon had utilized that memory wiper from Men In Black on him in 2000 when he first signed with the company, completely erasing the year 1997 and all the countless pins he already had over Rey from his collective consciousness. Not that the poor guy remembered ’97 anyway. I know I've tried to forget. Why couldn't you just hang in there and try and swim a little longer, Jack! Help WAS coming! *Sniffle*.

From there, in an attempt to gain the psychological edge, Eddie began to seemingly stalk Rey’s young son, Dominick, even creepily showing up on a Playground, wrapping his arms around the child (Rob Feinstein was seen feverishly taking notes), where he then promised to tell Dominick, and I quote, "a bedtime story". Chris Hansen was then seen tackling Eddie into the bushes.

Eddie & Dominick’s exchange went something like this:

Eddie: "Would you like me to tell you a bed time story?"
Dominick: "Dude, I’m like nine years old."
Eddie: "Ahem. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO TELL YOU A BED TIME STORY?"
Dominick: "Ya. I guess. But only if you’re wearing pants."

Ok, it didn't go like that. I don’t remember how it went. Something about being Gay. All I know is, at the time, the whole thing didn't come across too well on TV, and read like an episode of To Catch A Predator (Which I was sad to find out wasn't about the Alien bounty hunters but child molesters)—something I’m sure WWE never intended. Even if Jerry Lawler secretly wished it did. Quite excitedly.

Thankfully, however, Pedo Bear was not needed, because Eddie’s *true intentions* were a lot more innocent and wholesome. One week after promising he would not reveal a secret that would ruin Rey, he did so anyway. (THE GUY LIES FOR A LIVING. How could Rey not see this coming?). Turns out, Eddie secretly sired the child (trading in his Frog-splash that night to unleash some tadpoles, baby!) with a skanky ring-rat, and then passed that unholy union off on Rey-Rey and wife as a good-will gesture, because apparently Mysterio was shooting blanks from his umm, West Coast Cock, and wasn't able to start a family with his own equipment. Or something. Poor Dominick. Cue appropriate topical sound-bite!

And yes, that was it. That was the hook. Rey couldn't have children, so Eddie stepped up. Or laid down. Or whatever. All I know is, if I was Rey, I wouldn't have been surprised that offspring was impossible. I mean, the dude's three feet tall and has no pigment in his eyes. I'd think under those circumstances it's safe to say that a possible malfunction in the testicular region is not too far off either. Shit, I'd check under the house in San Diego for a Nuclear Reactor or something.

In any event, it was a heart-breaking moment for young Dominick; a time rife with confusion. Confusion as to why—at 8 years old—he was the same height as his father. If there was anything WWE tried to hammer home at that moment, it was that Dominick would never look at his father the same way again. Although, that's probably more because Dominick doesn't know what his dad really looks like because he’s never actually seen his face. But I digress.

It was at this point that Eddie informed Rey that he would be taking custody of Dominick altogether. Something that he apparently had every legal right to do. Yeah. That’s how custodial law works. They hand a kid right over to the first shirtless dude sight-unseen who was last spotted stalking playgrounds just the week before.

As the weeks progressed, Rey was devastated. He just would not look upon the bright side that Christmas spending would be significantly lighter that year. His heart was broken. And likely took up 2/3rds of his torso. He was after all nearly 200 pounds of solid muscle at barely 5 feet tall.

It was at this point as well—despite being rotten and contemptible— that Eddie began hearing more and more cheers. Even more so than Rey--the ailing father. And rightfully so, I say. Screwing a ring-rat so you can give your best friend a family is an admirable trait. In fact, I always insist that my friends take any and all children I accidentally sire whilst nailing sleazy broads. They're just not as magnanimous as Rey was. Come on, guys. I'M DOING YOU A FAVOR. GET WITH THE PROGRAM.

As more weeks passed by, Eddie's increasingly dastardly behavior would eventually bring upon the disdain of his own wife, Vickie, and their two daughters, who showed up on SmackDown to talk Eddie out of his madness. After all, bringing Dominick home would mean that Vickie would have to set another place at the dinner table, and she’d be damned if she was sharing anymore food with anyone.

Eddie however took this blatant insubordination as ANY man accused of using a diminutive Mexican boy for their own agenda would— with OUTRAGE. Stay out of his business, he said. This is his work, and this is how he puts food on the table, he continued. The words went right over Vickie's head, however, as she continued her defiance, regardless. Although, in his defense, her eyes did light up when he said food. Maybe.

Anyway, to hammer home that YES, YOU SHOULD BE BOOING THIS MAN, Eddie then forcefully grabbed Vickie and his children by the arms and dragged them backstage, violently forcing them into a rental car and yelling vociferously; a tense moment that was only broken up by wrestling's Great White Knight, BOB HOLLY. YES. BOB HOLLY. You know, when BOB HOLLY is your voice of reason for even-temperament, decorum and respect, something is REALLY wrong. The two men then began shoving one another, and Bob pushed Eddie hard into Vickie's car and in turn her, in a shocking moment. Shocking because Eddie has about 20 years in the business, and thus should have been spared his wrath, AMIRITE? Luckily for Eddie, Vickie, and us all, Bob further restrains himself from unleashing the BEST DROPKICK IN THE BUSINESS right then and there. After all, children should not be privy to such brutality. And Apathy.

Fast forward a month, and ultimately, Rey finally convinced Eddie to put Dominick up at Summer Slam. In a Ladder Match. A Ladder Match that unfortunately did not see Dominick strapped to the cable literally. And Eddie of course soon agreed to this unusual stipulation, because this is wrestling, and besides Bond Villains, no one is stupider than wrestling heels.

Rey: "Do you expect me to talk, Homes?"
Eddie: "No, Esse! I expect you to dieeeeeeee!"

It was at this point that Child Welfare finally became involved. YOU DON'T SAY. Apparently bartering a child’s ownership over a wrestling feud is against the law or something, so poor Dominick was taken into custody until the night of Summer Slam where he would end up… with the winner? This opens up a precedent for custody to be sure. I’m going to challenge my next-door neighbor to a game of horse-shoes for custody of his 17 year old daughter and see what happens. Oh man. This custodial business is just rife with sexy possibilities!

Backstage, Vickie desperately tries to talk Eddie out of the match. Rey is a good man, she reiterates. Wait? He’s a man? A grown man? Seriously? And here I thought that Case-worker woman was going to take Rey into custody, too. "Your parents let you get those tattoos? At 11? You’re coming with me, young man!" Vickie then told Eddie that this is not "the real him" and that his heart is huge. I could make a joke right now, but it’s so not worth the hate mail. Eddie however says he's going to continue on anyway. I don’t blame him. He came here to win a small boy, and damn it, he's not going to stop now.

Before the big match, we received heartfelt words from Michael Cole, designed to elicit warm feelings for Rey-Rey's plight. Cole says that he knows what Mysterio is going through, because he has two adopted sons of his own. Huh. I guess it kind of makes sense. You actually have to have sex with a real-life woman to have children. Or at least one that doesn't require a patch kit bi-weekly. I heard the most action he's ever got from a woman was a little "skull".

The match then took place…and holy shit...it was AWESOME. It almost made you forget that the reward was indentured human life! ALMOST.

The big finish—and climax to this whole sorted debacle—saw Vickie by-gawd stampede to the ring and TIP EDDIE OFF THE LADDER, wrapping her legs around him like a spider-monkey, thus preventing him from stopping Rey from regaining custody of his child the old fashioned way— by climbing garage-based home improvement apparatuses. Man. What a Judas that Vickie turned out to be! How disheartening. I mean, if you can't trust your own wife to support you in the legal kidnapping of a small child for revenge purposes, what's the point of even getting married? I'm kind of soured on the whole institution now.

But hey, yay! Happy Ending! How wholesome. Dominick was back where he belonged! Even if he was going home with a father with no eyes who always wears a mask. Wait. Isn't that something that Children's Aid worker should be looking into? But hey, whatever. At least Dominick would finally get back to the innocence of childhood. Innocence that likely included going to the playground and swinging around the equipment, kicking other children in the face with his feet, just because. Dad would be SO proud. And comically undersized.

That all said, sadly, this would be Eddie’s last big feud before his untimely death, bar a brief foray into a homoerotic friendship with Batista, where they claimed to be "soul mates" and then made each other laugh by trying to poison each other's food. (I am so not kidding.). Not exactly the way I'd like to shuffle off this mortal coil, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. RIP, buddy.

So, what have we learned here today, kids? I mean, besides judging by her current girth, that sometime between 2005 and now, Vickie must have consumed Dominick whole, bones and all; and that whoever thought of this storyline should obviously be launched into the sun if only for the safety of future generations.

I'll tell you what *I* learned. Rey could have saved himself a lot trouble if A) he just allowed Eddie to pin him in May. B) Just had Eddie steal the sperm needed in the first place (I picture him passing a vial of frozen seed to the doctor when caught and then feigning unconsciousness). Or C) DID NOTHING and just rocked that shit. That’s right. You were a free man, Rey! (besides the strangely Rey-spawned biological daughter suddenly not mentioned that singlehandedly destroyed the credibility of the feud.). I mean, seriously, Rey. No more Hell-spawns running around drop-toe holding eachother into the Sofas. You were off the hook. And not just in that whacky fun way Tazz always says. Hell, you even got to have sex with your wife bare-back (I always imagined him wearing little condoms in the shape of Lucha masks before this feud) any time you wanted without ever having to worry about any more Mysterio junior, juniors popping out. You had it made. But hey, whatever. It's done. I'm just glad he didn't feud with Juventud Guerrera next. They'd probably inform us that Juvi wanted payback on Rey-Rey because he saved his life once by donating a kidney. And what a terrifying prospect that is! Ahem.

So, yes, like scrotum, that was the great Mysterio/Guerrero custody feud in a nut-shell. An event SO life-changing and devastating that 8 weeks later Rey would forget all about it forever and dedicate his entire career to this same man who tried to steal his heir and kill the Mysterio umm, Junior name forever. Gotta love wrestling. Kayfabe be damned.

I'm Sean.

Special thanks to my evil Padawan, Catherine Perez for all of her invaluable help...and bail money!

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TWF FLASHBACK

November 2006

SATIRE: DISCONTINUED WWE XMAS PRODUCTS!

by Sean Carless

With Christmas just around the corner, what better way to spend your few remaining dollars (left over after the seemingly infinite line-up of fucking pay-per-views ) then on the following "quality WWE merchandise!" After all, if they don't move this stuff, and fast, stockholders just might get time to figure out what "plummeting domestic buyrates" means!... and well, I don't think they need to tell you what that means! (Seriously. They're not telling you. Everything is fine! Ahem.).