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Knox Newfield: PW P.I. 

This Weeks Episode: IWC You in Hell!


When the forces of evil in the world of professional wrestling become too much, they call me in.  And at a nominal fee, I set things right.  I am Knox Newfield, PWPI!



Dateline - Stamford


9:42 a.m.


The smell of stale cheese puffs and flat Pepsi fill the air of my office here in Stamford, Conneticut.  I've been up for days, watching old wrestling PPV's and waiting...just waiting for my next call.  I just solved The Case of the Rabid Wolverine.  Turns out he did it!  The things I saw during that investigation shook my to my very core.  It's one of the things you never get used to in my line of work.  Just as I'm lamenting the savagery of this industry, the phone rings.


"Knox here!"


"Knox, we need you down in Florida, ASAP!  We got a body here, looks like it's one of yours!"


"How do you know?"


"Well not too many of our stiffs are clutching  a copy of Figure Four Weekly!"


"My god, it's one of the IWC!"




"The Internet Wrestling Community!  Good lord, so many people have motives to kill these people!  Wrestlers, promoters, marks, their parents that want them to move out!  I'll be down there as soon as I find out what happens to Bret Hart at Survivor Series 1997!"


"Umm, Knox, even I know that.  He gets screwed!"


"I know, but I keep watching it, hoping one day it won't be true."



Dateline - Florida


12:26 p.m.



That same familiar smell of stale cheese puffs and flat Pepsi lingers inside of this small studio aprtment.  It once belonged to Steve Sellers, wrestling fan.  But someone, or something, or perhaps the junk food diet coupled with the hours in front of the computer, has killed him.  That's why I'm down here in the land of palm trees and Disney, Florida.  There are still officers on the scene.


"I'm looking for Captain Stewart."


"Who the hell are you?"


"Knox Newfield, Pro-Wrestling P.I.!"


".....how's that working out for you?"


"Kinda wish I had finished school!"


"Yeah.  CAPTAIN!"


I could sense that there was foul play afoot.  The apartment showed clear signs of a struggle.  Broken furniture, scattered chairs, smashed TV's.  It looked like a Spanish announcers worst nightmare.


"Mr. Newfield?  I'm Captain Stewart of the Florida State police.  I'm glad you could make it."


"Wherever there's a tragedy associated with the world of sports entertainment, I'll be there.  Wherever there's a luchador being given phony immigration papers, I'll be there!  Whenever..."


"I get it!"


"What do we have here?"


"Male, Mid 20's, been dead for about 6 hours now.  A neighbor called complaining of a strange smell coming from his apartment and..."


"Stale cheese puffs and flat Pepsi?"


"Yeah, how did you know?"


"Just a guess."


"Anyway, victim has severe lacerasions across his throat, and also a faint boot imprint can be made out on the forehead.  His eyes are bulged out, like he had seen a ghost."


Everything the officer said was true, which eliminates him as my prime suspect.  Poor kid, probably never even got to know the simple pleasures of catch wrestling.  His face frozen in that last moment of fear.  What kind of monster, or animal, or bulldozer did this?


"Cease his hard drive.  I want to look into his world!"


Dateline - Computer Forensics


3:31 p.m.


I felt this was too small of a trip to have an internal monolouge about.  But I would like to take this time to tell you all that all this month on WWE 24/7 they will be showing the best of Savio Vega!


"Well, boys, what did you find?"


"Well, we've got several accounts on message borads devoted to wrestling.  The words BRING BACK FLASH FUNK appear quite often!"


"Don't give me things I could have guessed myself, boys, I need clues!"


"Nothing out of the ordinary here.  Young guy, wrestling fan, hated everything WWE does yet couldn't stop watching!"


Hmmm, it seemed if I was gonna get any clues as to what happened to this young man, I was going to have to round up the usual suspects.  I put a call in to the leader of professional wrestling, Marc Mero, and arranged to have all the worlds top wrestlers that aren't on his list at my office tomorrow morning!


Dateline - Stamford (tomorrow, well today, actually)


I've got the most influential guys in the business outside of my office right now, waiting to be grilled by the best in the business.  It's gonna be a long day, but I knew it wouldn't be easy when I invented this profesion, and I'm not about to back down!  I better start on the top.


"Shelly, send in the Undertaker!"


Half an hour later I was locking eyes with one of the sports biggest icons.  Time to go to work!


"Pick up that damn robe on your way out, Taker!"


"You can't tell me what to do, I'm a deadman!"


"Yeah, well you're gonna be a....alive and well guy if you don't start singing!"


"You got no proof I did anything!"


"Funeral home, burned to the ground, parents dead, ring a bell?"


"That's way past the six month buffer, you can't link me to that!"


"Try me, Phenom!  It can all go away if you start talking!"


"All I know about this kid is that....if you play with fire, you get burned!  And now he will Rest....IN....PEACE!!"


"Get out of my sight before you're any less relevant!  Shelly, take out the Deadman and bring in Shawn Michaels!"


Shawn entered as the cloud of smoke dissipated.


"Get off my floor, HBK!  Who the hell are you talking to anyway?"


"The lord!  My one true calling in life!  Tell me, Knox, have you heard the good news?"


"Only good news I see is that your hairline is running out faster that the time you've got left in this business, now sit down or your smile won't be the only thing you lose today!"


"I had nothing to do with this.  Why would I waste my time harming a young man who's only passion was for wrestling?"


"You've done it your entire career, that's why!  I got a slew of jobbers I could send you up for!"


"They couldn't work.  As I described in my book Heartbreak and Triumph: The Shawn Michaels Story!"


"It also says in there that your real last name is Hickenbottom.  What would happen, show-stopper, if I put your real name in to the List of Known Super Criminals Database?"


".....you wouldn't!"


"Give me a reason not to...Shawn the Skinner!"


"ALL RIGHT!! I'll talk!  We canceled a show in Florida just a few days before it all happened, but that's all I know, I swear!"


"The truth shall set you free.  While we're telling the truth here, did you really ALLOW Kurt Angle to make you submit at Wrestlemania?"


"NO...oh, God....it was supposed to go easy, y'know?  1-2-3 that was it, 1-2-3 but NO, NO he had to be difficult!!"


"Get out of my office, you disgust me!  And not just because of your sagging physique!  Shelly, send in Scott Hall!"




"Shelly, I said send in Scott Hall!"


"He's not here, sir."




As I kicked myself for having fallen for Hall's antics...again, a beautiful young lady walked into my office.


"Candice Michelle, look what the cat dragged in, huh?"


She tried to walk to my desk, but fell flat on her oddly shaped face.  I sat her down finally, and tried to get some answers out of her.


"Alright, Candice, why...were you on my list of top wrestlers?"


"I'm the biggest Diva in the company!"


"At the expense of an entire division that needed all the credibility it could get, young lady!"


"What do you know? You're just a P.I.!"


"I know a lot more than you think...Mackenzie."


"......No one's called me that in years!"


"Bondage, foot fetishes, light S&M, I know all about you're past, Ms. Montgomery!"


"So what?  That information has been available on the web ever since I've been in the WWE!  It can't hurt me!"


"Maybe not.  But maybe I've uncovered something much more dark!  Are you familiar with a video called '2 girls, 1 cup'?"


"How DARE you!"


"Seems the footage widely grimmaced at all over the net has been edited.  I wooooonder who they cut out of it?"




"It was last year!"




"Start talking, Candice, and the deleted reel of scat-tastic footage stays with me...under my mattress."


"You still don't have a clue, do you, gumshoe?"


"What are you talking about?"


"You forgot the first rule of being a dick.  Follow the clues!"


"The clues?"


"Do that, and you'll have your answer."


I would have said something clever that tied in her past statement to a poop joke, but I had no time!  Follow the clues?  Well, we've got a young wrestling fan ("I made this business"), dead.  His eyes are bulged out ("YOU!"), he has a rather BIG BOOT mark on his face, and lacerasions across his throat.  Almost like someone had....dropped something on it.  MY GOD!!!


Dateline - Florida


I arrived at the Hogan residence just as Linda was leaving with her suitcases!  I had no time to talk to her, however, I only had one man on my mind.  The Immortal Hulk Hogan!


"Hulk!  Hulk, it's Knox Newfield!  I wrote you a bunch of letters when I was a kid!  I need to talk to you!"


I heard a faint reply to my yell from above the double-sided spiral staircase.


"Oh yeah, you want me, dude?  Well say hello to my little friend!"


I ducked as a remote controlled missle shot out from behind the bedroom doors at the top of the staircase.  I then saw the Hulk, standing in all his glory, with two machine guns by his side.


"HULK!  Hulk, why'd you do it?"


"I'm sick and tired of all these fat wrestling fans turning me into some kind of washed up caricature of my former self.....BROTHER!!"


"But murder, Hulk, was it worth a human life?"


"Of course, jack!  I had to do something before another one of these dudes hits the enter key and plasters some bull crap about me all over the internet!  Now get out of my way, I need to find some chick named Catherine Perez!"


"I can't let you do that, Hogan.  She's one of the IWC's only females!"


"Then you've got to die...oh, damn, what do I always say here?  Oh yeah.....BROTHER!!"


The bullets started flying by my head, as I took shelter behind the giant statue of himself in a pond he had constructed.  Every passing moment, my death became more and more imminent!  I had no gun, and was in serious trouble!  Then, from behind me, I heard a crash.  Through the door came Captain Stewart, revolver in hand.  Using the shock of his sudden entrance to his advantage, he fired off a shot and struck the Hulkster right in the rib cage.


"Ooooooh.....what an...abrupt ending to a climax.....BROTHEEEEEEEEEEAAAHHH!"


Hogan came crashing down, making a huge splash as he fell into the very pond he had built, right underneath the giant sign reading "The World is Yours, Dude!".


"Thank you, Captain!  You saved my life!"


"Not a problem, Knox.  Just remember one thing: I did this because someone cancelled a lunch appointment!"




Just then, the door flew open, and two grown men dressed like 15 year olds came barging in.


"Is this where the mystery is?"


"Who the hell are you guys?"


"We're the Hardy Boys!  HIYO!"


And at that, we all shared a "hardy" laugh, paused in mid-moment for the credits to scroll by, and went on with our lives.  But as long as there is a seedy underbelly to this world known as pro-wrestling, my work will never....eeeeever be done.  Haha, I always wanted to do that!

Matthew Folger quite literally needs surgery to remove all the "thumbs ups" he gets from his ass.  Because he gets so many, you see?  He also cuts trees down in the forest when no one else is around using a mechanical robot-arm guided saw, just to keep that annoying rhetorical question going.  He loves you all as long as you love him and is pretty easily upset at the sound of disrespect.  He's the drunken father figure you never had!

Banner & Pics 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.).