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Guest Columnist 


By Stu Jackson


Hi my name's Stu, and I'm an alcohol...er, damn it, wrong meeting.  OK, hey everybody!  Yeah, that worked; damn Stu, you are smooth.

I've been a wrestling fan for years, but, let's face it, sometimes no matter how you polish shit, it's still shit, and that's what I give you, pure, unpolished shit...no, wait, that’s' not right.  This stuff is funny, just ask me.

I was sitting at work the other night, and for some reason the idea of the WWE producing sitcoms popped in my head.  No, it doesn't make sense, but it happened, and no, no drugs were involved.  (shut UP, those don't count).

So, here I present you with the WWE's first sitcom starring everybody's favorite sledgehammer-wielding main-eventer, his wife, Ric Flair, and of course, the sledgehammer.  Also starring Albert as the wacky neighbor for some reason.

(Scene opens with HHH and Stephanie in their living room)
HHH: Listen, honey, I know you're head of creative, but some of these ideas, they just don't work.

Steph: Ideas? Like what? This isn't going to be another one of THOSE days is it? I swear, all I ever ask is that you take out the garbage, mow the lawn and maybe clean out the damn garage, but nooooooo, it's always "some of the ideas, blah blah blah". You don't even love me , damn you. (runs off sobbing).

HHH: DAMN it! (looking at hammer propped up in LaZ Boy chair) why is she always like this? What the hell did I do anyway? What do I do now?
(The hammer, of course, says nothing)

HHH: You're right, she just needs time to cool down. Oh well, guess we sleep on the couch tonight, eh buddy?
(The hammer slides to one side of the chair from the weight)

HHH: Yeah, I'm pretty tired too. Well, time to call it a day.
(he pulls out the couch bed and tosses a pillow on it, retrieves the hammer and lays it on one side of the couch. Then, taking a running start jumps and dops an elbow on the pillow, and stares at the hammer, which of course, says nothing).

HHH: What do you MEAN that was a two count. You're blind, you're trying to...cheat....me.
(H curls up on the couch and falls asleep with the hammer next to him.

(Scene opens with HHH walking into the kitchen, hammer in hand, and taking his seat at the breakfast table. Steph is at the counter getting a cup of coffee).

Steph: I'm sorry about last night, I get a little emotional sometimes, you know? Work is just so hard.

HHH: I know, honey, I'm just glad you're ok now.
(he pours a large bowl of count chocula and sprinkles on some HGH for flavor, then gets up and walks to the fridge and takes out the milk, then turns to the hammer)

HHH: So what'll it be for you today?
(The Hammer says nothing)

HHH: The usual, huh?

(HHH takes a bowl out of the cabinet and walks over to Ric Flair who is standing by the sink.)

HHH: Fill 'er up, 'Naitch.

(Flair begins to slam himself in the forehead)

Flair: Stylin' and (WHAM!) profilin'!
(Flair begins to gush blood from his forehead and holds the bowl up, filling it about half full).

Flair: Here ya go, champ! WOOOOO!
HHH: Thanks, Ric.

(HHH sets the bowl of fresh squeezed in front of the hammer and tips the head of the hammer into the bowl. Slowly the bowl begins to drain)

HHH: So what're your plans for the day, honey?

Steph: (smiling as she watches the hammer finish it's meal) Not much, I'm interviewing another prospective member fo the creative team. It should be fun.

HHH: (with hope in his voice) is it another former wrestler? Or a booker or something?

Steph: No, sweetie, you got your way when I hired Dusty, I get to pick this one.

HHH: You mean...?

Steph: Oh don't worry, she'll be perfect. She used to be an assistant writer for Lifetime, did those great movies I love to watch. She'll fit in great.

HHH: ...

Steph: What?

HHH: (looking at Flair, who is now stitching up his own forehead because he's

Ric Flair) Little help here Naitch?

Flair: WOOOO? (shrugs)

HHH: (to the hammer) what do you think?
(the hammer, as always, is silent, though the bowl it rests in is now completely empty somehow)

HHH: you ALWAYS take her side! why can't you ever agree with me?
(the hammer remains motionless)

Steph: OK, honey, listen, I promise, next time, I’ll look at more of your "wrestlers" for creative, I promise.

HHH: Swear?

Steph: Sure.

HHH: (smiles at the hammer) see? she likes me better.
(the hammer, now too heavy tips the empty bowl and falls back and flat on the kitchen floor. H dives on it, counts to three, jumps up and takes a huge mouthful of his count chocula/HGH breakfast, and then spits it in the air whilst posing).

(Later that day, HHH is mowing the lawn while Flair weeds the rose bushes. The hammer is strapped to the sprinkler which is aimed at the neighbor’s driveway)

HHH: You know, Naitch, this is the life, isn’t it?

Flair: (knee-deep in rose bushes, thorns sticking out of his forehead and blood all over his face and hands) Woooo! (nodding)

HHH: ; Yep, nothing like it at all, I tell you what, I…(the phone clipped to his ring trunks rings, interrupting him) Hello?

Steph: (on the other line) Hey, how’s the yard work coming?

HHH: Great, we should be finishing up here soon, then I think we’ll take the rest of the day off.

Steph: Fine with me, but just to let you know, we’re having dinner guests.

HHH; Dinner…guests? Your parents I’m guessing/

Steph: They’re coming, and John from talent relations will be coming over.

HHH: (under his breath) brown nosing piece of…

Steph: (cutting him off) what did you say, honey?

HHH: I said that sounds like a great idea.

Steph: I thought so, see you in a while.

HHH: (hanging up the phone) BLARGRRGARAAAR!

Flair: (now completely covered, wearing the proverbial crimson bodysuit) WOOO?

HHH: Vince and Linda are coming for dinner, which is fine, but that jerk John is coming over, too.

Flair: WOOO!

HHH (laughing) yeah, the skateboard was funny
(The hammer becomes water logged and snaps the straps holding it on the sprinkler and falls to the ground)

HHH: What do you mean the skateboard wasn’t that bad? Do you just try to find things to disagree with me about? And why are you just loafing around? We got things to do. (The hammer says nothing, just lays there in the mud.)
(Next door, the neighbor comes out of his house and sees the sprinkler drenching his car)


HHH: Oh, hey, sorry about that, guy. No hard feelings, eh?


HHH: Yeah, like I said, sorry about that, don’t worry though, it’ll dry, right Naitch?

Flair: (pulling himself up out of the rose bushes and Flair strutting over to turn off the sprinkler) WOOO! (Flair reaches the sprinkler, turns it off, and hits a muddy patch, Flair-flopping into the mud)


HHH: Yeah, that Flair, he’s a funny guy. Well, take it easy, Hip Hop Hippo, have a good day at work.


HHH: What? I said Albert? Sorry, brain freeze, sorry.

Albert: BLARRRG! (Albert then runs off to work in his suit, immediately set upon by a half dozen security personnel that appear out of his tomato garden)

HHH: (to the hammer) and why are YOU still laying there? What, are we supposed to do all the work while you get a tan?
(the hammer says nothing)

(later that evening, Vince Linda, and Johnny Ace show up for the dinner)

(doorbell rings and Steph answers it)

Steph: Hey, glad you guys could make it. (in greeting, she hugs her father, then knees him in the grapefruits, and slaps her mother across the face)

(the group enters the kitchen to find HHH finishing up dinner, complete with Game apron that says “the meal is over and it’s that damn good” and Flair doing the Flair strut around the table while setting out the silverware)

HHH: You guys made it, great!
(The five of them, plus the hammer, sit down at the table and begin passing around food)

Vince; (in booming baritone announcer voice) COULD YOU PASS THE POTATOES LINDA?

Linda (in robotic tone) of…course….Vince…I would love to…pass…the potatoes.(she hands them down, but Johnny Ace intercepts them and sets them in front of Vince)


Johnny: (watching Vince begin to spoon potatoes onto his plate) You sure you want that one, sir? It’s awful small, how about one of the big ones over there? And how about some salt for your pork chops? They can always use more seasoning, you know.

Vince: Sounds like a plan. (he begins to dump a mixture of salt and andro on his food) Bigger the better, I always say.

HHH: Yeah, always a good idea to be well seasoned. Sure. (turning to the hammer) How’s yours?
(The hammer currently is resting against a large plateful of wood chips, which is slowly disappearing)

HHH: Oh come on, it’s your favorite, Spanish announce table, I made it myself.
Flair: WOOO!

Steph: Sure thing, Naitch (she passes him a napkin, which he presses to his forehead to stop the bleeding which has started for no apparent reason whatsoever.


Linda: I..also enjoy…a good….slice….of …pecan…every once…in a….while

(Flair, his face a mixture of blood and napkins, gets up and brings over a large cake)

Steph: That looks great, what kind is it?

Flair: WoOOO!


Johnny: (looking at the piece Vince selected) you sure that’s not to small, sir? I mean, sure, some people like their cake that size, but what you need is a big piece, I mean a real big piece, right? Big pieces of cake always get reactions.

Vince: ‘Absolutely, we must have bigger pieces.
(Vince eyes the gigantic piece in front of the hammer and reaches down to switch plates. The hammer, once the plate is removed, falls flush on Vince’s hand)

Vince: Ow! Damn it, do you know who I am? I’m Vincent Kennedy McMahon Damn It! You…You’rrrrrrrrrre Firrrrrrrrred!

(Pulling his hand out from under the hammer, the hammer falls to the floor with a thud. HHH covers it and Vince makes a fast three count on the floor).

Johnny: We would like to wish the hammer best of luck in all future endeavors.
(everyone laughs as the scene ends)

Pictures and logos created by Sean Carless.

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November 2006


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.).