Ah, Vengeance. A dish best served cold. And rumor has it once Triple H heard this, he said "Save some of that for Steph…she’ll eat anything!".


Anyway, tonight's show comes to us from Sin City, Las Vegas; you know, the only place on earth where the mob has more people buried than a HHH Title run....


Your hosts are of course Jerry Lawler, JR......and Coach, just because. Your Spanish Announce team is, well, the same two guys you see scurrying for their lives every month during a PPV Main-Event. You'd think these poor hapless bastards would have built one of those cages around their table that you see the musicians play inside in seedy bars. It might help their predicament. But nooooo.


The show opens with a vignette of the Triple-threat WWE Title match and the HHH/Batista Hell in a Cell. As the pay-per-view is about to start, in classic Jim Ross super hyperbole, he describes the Cell as, and I quote "Satan's spa of pain and suffering".  Hah, good luck ever making any money with a business called that. (You may also want to stay away from the tanning beds there. Just saying.).


Shelton Benjamin w/ über bright Hot Wheels trunks Vs. Carlito w/ Caribbean Cool for Intercontinental Title.


You know, Carlito's hair has reached overwhelming pubic levels now (He's the only I know who has to go to the chick who does Brazilians just get a haircut) and I actually laugh to myself at the prospect of Carlito hiding foreign objects in there. Or maybe just Foreigners. It beats washing ashore in a dinghy. I also noticed that the WWE has cleverly had the competitors pictures inserted into various suits of cards on the Titan Tron. (Get it? Vegas, gambling, yada, yada yada). And for the record, I'm just glad to see see someone backstage was smart enough to pick the right suit for Shelton if you know what I mean, because, man, that could have been really awkward...


Anyway, this was probably the best match I've seen Carlito involved in thus far; and in turn, there was a somewhat vocal Carlito following here. Das Cool.


The story here was obvious, Shelton was still feeling the effects of his tumble on RAW, which was clearly obvious to everyone... but Jim Ross; who apparently completely missed the not-so-subtle "injured" mannerisms of Benjamin, and actually insists to Coach and Lawler many times that Shelton is fine. Well there goes Jim Ross's credibility. Next thing you know, he'll be mis-calling moves and referring to wrestlers by the wrong names. But hey, he's still the man to go to for knowledge of obscure animals. (I'm currently petitioning the government for a mule to beat the fuck out of as we speak).


Anyway, Carlito works over Shelton's back, giving him three big bodyslams. What is this 1985? From there, Shelton eventually rallies by sling-shotting Carlito's neck off the top rope as he jumped over the ropes.  He then hit a big springboard bulldog for two. Sounds like the kind of Dog I'd like to own. It's probably why the SPCA has me blacklisted. Meanwhile, amidst the chaos, Carlito has undone the turnbuckle pad in the corner, and he suckers Shelton into a stinger splash attempt and ducks the move (while apparently dropkicking Shelton's legs), and Benjamin crashes hard into the exposed metal as Carlito gets a tights assisted roll-up. A three count and unfortunate peek at Shelton's cornhole later, Carlito is still your IC Champ.


Winner and still champion: Carlito.  Loser: The Taxi-cab company that apparently inspired Shelton's trunks. I'm not going to say they were bright, but you could probably land a plane in a blizzard with those fucking things. Could have saved JFK jr. some grief.




-Ric Flair and HHH show up to the arena, and you know what? There ain't no suit jacket on Earth that goes with mutton chops pal, I'm sorry.  Poor Trips from the neck up looks like he should be scouring the high hills of Scotland, searching for a sheep for a night of carnal lust, not wearing Armani. But hey, whatever.



Victoria (She's not the lady to mess with. Huh! Huh! Huh!) Vs. Christie Hemme;


First of all, Victoria has been given new music, only with a much slower tempo, allowing her to at least still dance as poorly, albeit at a much more "methodical and sinister" terrible pace.


Anyway, I have to take my pants hat off to Christie here. What she lacks in experience she makes up for in a great ass. It might not help your wrestling career per se, but it can at least lead to an aborted King of the Ring push. Or something. And you know, out of all the "Muff Enough" (Diva Search) castoffs, she's clearly the best of the lot. And she clearly got off the easiest. All she had to do is get naked in Playboy. Poor Joy had to somehow fit the ungodly genitals of the Big Show into her love clam. You could probably fit more vehicles than the Lincoln tunnel in there now! Wait. What were we talking about again? Oh ya. Christie.  Give her a few years seasoning and she might just get good. Unfortunately though, today's women's wrestling is kind of the equivalent of a mongoloid in Special Ed. They usually just get a pat on the head for just showing up and not eating anything poison. I have no idea what any of this means. So forget I said it.


Anyhoo, the match was somewhat formulaic. That formula: Good worker + Green worker= Shit? I don't know. I'm not that good at math. But hey, it was still decent considering Hemme's limitations. And to her credit, Christie didn't blow any spots and actually hit a decent looking DDT that got a real close 2.  The finish sees Christie try a modified Booker T. sunset flip out of the corner, but Victoria regains her bearings and sits down on Christie's face and grabs the ropes for leverage to get the pin. It wasn't nearly long enough to masturbate to, but damn it if I didn't try. (Next time I'll probably wait until my guests go home though.).


Winner: Victoria (Huh! Huh! Huh!).




-Backstage, Tard Grisham reveals that he once pissed himself in high school, while John Cena equates himself debuting on RAW to being the "New Kid on the Block" (I'm thinking Donny Whalberg myself.).


-Recap of the Kane/Edge/Lita fiasco. "That's the man's wife, King!" says Jim Ross. Yes, it's so sad when marriages spawned by torture, mental anguish and rape fall apart. If these two lovebirds can drift apart, clearly there's no hope for us all. Meh. However, on a side note, I did find perverse humor in the priest being tombstoned on RAW. Kind of a nice change of pace seeing a priest having his head forced between someone else's legs for once...



Edge w/ Lita w/ syphilis? (Hey, could be) Vs. Kane w/o Matt Hardy w/o job.


They use to say in Sex-Ed that when you have sex with a woman, you're really having sex with every partner that person has ever had. So to Edge's benefit, that means he's been intimate with virtually hundreds of luchadors. This can only help his craft.


Anyway, this was probably the best match these two have had with one another and the crowd was really into it which also helped. Perhaps they to could relate to the hardships and heart-ache a messy divorce can cause? You know, minus all the chokeslams and fire.


With that said, Kane dominates from the onset, pulverizing Edge until Lita gets involved and saves Edge from being posted on the floor by Kane. Edge then hits his patented flying hug err I mean "spear" on the floor, and Kane almost gets counted out. Back inside, Kane regains the advantage, and looks for the chokeslam, but here comes Gene Snitsky to assist Edge & Lita! And you know what? When you're having marital issues, who better to assist you in your cause than the man who murdered your collective unborn child, right? It only makes sense. To someone. Somewhere.



Anyway, Kane promptly swats Snitsky off the apron, and Lita comes in to try and make peace, but Kane goozles her and places a chair around her neck in hopes of crushing it (if only all divorces could end the same way); however, Snitsky comes back in, and ABORTS that attempt (HIYO) with a big boot. Edge then immediately goes for the cover but only gets two as Kane kicks out! He'll be damned if Lita's taking half his red unitards and 1940's gasoline canisters and also stealing the win as well, damn it. From there, Snitsky then tries to go airborne from the top but he's caught by Kane in a goozle. Meanwhile, Edge attempts to use the money in the bank briefcase from behind, but Kane avoids the charge and Edge hits Snitsky instead, allowing Kane to quickly finish Edge clean with the chokeslam. Cue the Arnold Schwarzenegger  "consider this a divorce" Total Recall sound bite.


Winner: Kane. It looks like that Matt Hardy thing on RAW was just this year's version of the "Bret Hart midget" to rub salt in Matt's wounds, and they'll still be continuing to stick with Kane as the pseudo Matt for the time being. 


Kane, Tomorrow night on RAW: "See these non-existent burn scars? They will become a SYMBOL!".




-Backstage, Tard Grisham asks HBK if he can even-up the score with Kurt Angle tonight. HBK then answers "When was the last time you saw me do TWO consecutive jobs, motherfucker?" Ok, he didn't say it, but it's still true. HBK then says (for real this time) "Tonight, Vengeance will be mine!"  Hey wait! That's the name of this pay-per-view! What an incredible coincidence.



Kurt Angle w/ Olympic Gold Vs. Shawn Michaels w/ Gold, Mir and Frankincense for the Christ child.


Hey, gotta love coming out to the ring to a song promoting your womanizing prowess while also giving thanks to the maker in mid-aisle. And speaking of Shawn, they must have seriously lightened up on the dress code at Church, because I seriously don't remember too many glittery ass chaps in the pews where I was sitting last time I attended mass. I mean, when was the last time you saw Jerry Falwell wearing rhinestone covered crotchless pants?


Anyway, I'm not going to bother with the full blow by blow here, because there's SO much, and besides, in my current somewhat inebriated condition, my head might explode. So, instead I'll just go through the basic mechanics and the high spots, and you can just rent the DVD when it comes out you lazy prick.


The story here was of course Angle vowing to make HBK tap a second time, and for the opening moments, Kurt was determined to wear down HBK for that very scenario. First crazy high spot of the match occurred on the floor where Angle ducked a Michaels strike and delivered a German suplex onto the Spanish announce table (why do Carlos & Hugo even bother showing up to work anymore?). Back inside, Angle elicits a "Holy Shit!" out of the crowd when he powerbombs HBK neck and back first into the corner in a great visual spot.


Eventually, HBK "Jesus's up" and hits his usual bag of tricks, (flying forearm, nip up, inverted atomic drop, bodyslam, turning water into wine, flying elbow etc.) then tunes up the band ( church choir?), but Angle quickly mows him down with an AWESOME clothesline. That'll teach him to nonsensically stomp on that mat giving away his exact position and telegraphing his exact intention! Wait. why the fuck does he do that again?


From there, HBK blocks a German (Not this) with a sharp elbow between the eyes that looked hard-way, but Angle still gets the Angle slam for two. HBK then attempts the chin music again, but Angle catches the leg and applies the ankle-lock. Michaels tries to roll through, but Angle hangs on, and keeps hanging on and rolling through HBK's seemingly futile attempts to escape...however, eventually, HBK gets lucky and finally rolls through, allowing the momentum to carry Angle straight into the corner post, shoulder first. HBK then immediately hits some desperation chin music on Angle, and after a long stall, finally gets the cover but Angle is out a two.


Finally, with both men down, Angle recovers first and heads up to the top. JR somewhat telegraphs the finish however stating that Angle has no business on the ropes. It's true. He had to declare bankruptcy and everything. HBK then connects with a beautiful superkick to Angle as Kurt jumped from the top rope; 1,2,3. That's all she wrote. HBK evens up the rivalry and didn't even have to call in a favor with God to turn Kurt into a pillar of salt or anything. Lucky him. Big Show would probably use what's left of him on a really big plate of fries.


Winner: Shawn Michaels. Our Lord and savior would no doubt be giving him a golf clap on this performance right now, if only he hadn't mandated that whole "deploring violence" thing during his sermons. Oh well.



- Coach interviews Batista about HELLLLLL IN THE CELLUGGGHHHH! (tm HHH) when Triple H interrupts and states that no one beats him in the Hell in the Cell. Not even Kurt Angle in 2000. Not even.



-Lillian Garcia comes out, and she has something she wants to ask Viscera, and look, there's a strange, lone sofa in the ring! Wow, good thing there was a random couch just lying around for this unscripted and completely spontaneous segment!


Anyway, Lillian  decides to return Vis's favor from Monday, and serenades HIM. After the misery, Lillian decides that after "two months" of dating (and not just the few weeks that it's been; in you know, *real time*) it's time to pop the question, and she gets down on her knee (and not knees as Vis would most likely have preferred). However, right after the "proposal", The Godfather makes his WWE return complete with Ho's to sway the big man. After some deliberation, Viscera ultimately decides on the Ho's. I don't blame him. I mean, why buy the cow when you can get the implants for free? (or at least with the Godfather, at a fairly reasonable price.).


Anyway, Lillian begins to cry and Viscera leaves with his bounty. But I've got to warn these ladies; at Vis's size, finding his genitals is probably akin to trying to fish the remote out from the sofa cushions. You've been warned.



John Cena Vs. Christian Vs. Chris Jericho; Triple threat match for WWE Championship


You know, Buddy Rogers would likely be rolling over in his grave right now if saw the World title belt John Cena is wearing. He'd then realize that since he can roll over, he's in fact still alive and scream for someone to let him out of this box! Clearly I didn't think this joke through all the way.


Anyway, all three stare each other down, and I'm surprised the trio didn't partake in a quick game of paper/rock/scissors to decide who would pretend to be knocked out the floor for 10 minutes first.


Tomko almost immediately gets tossed from the match after pulling Jericho from the ring, leaving Christian to "solve his own problems". He'll just have to figure out which train going at the same speed in opposite directions gets to the station first all by himself, I guess.


Anyway, first big move of the match sees Cena catch Christian on his shoulders in a float over out of the corner, and dump him to the floor from the ring with an FU. Jericho and Cena then go at it for a while until Christian makes his way back in, after Jericho rolls out to the floor after a Cena  DDT. Eventually, all three end up back in the ring, and Cena interrupts a Jericho/Christian superplex spot with a powerbomb to Jericho from the corner, which then carries Christian over in the superplex as a result. Cool spot. Cena tries to cover both Jericho and Christian separately after the spot, but only gets a two on each. Cena then drop-toe-holds Y2J head first onto Christian, who's still on the mat, and delivers a double Five knuckle shuffle (ten knuckle shuffle?) on both men. One of these days people will figure out that the shuffle is a euphemism for jerking off and it'll become a whole lot un-cooler. Anyways, after some more back and forth, Jericho looks to have Cena beat in the Walls, but like a Reagan and Gorby coalition, Christian tears down that Wall and ends communism. Or something. Cena escapes after Christian tries to rollup Jericho...but still only gets a two. Finish sees Jericho shove Christian into Cena, who quickly scoops up Xian on his shoulders and counters a Y2J break-up attempt by swinging Christian's feet into his face, then promptly FU's Christian to retain the title and the respect of confused white teenagers who wear pants the size of truck tarps. It's beautiful.


Winner and still champion:  John Cena, your  Doctor of Thuganomics. For the record, I was *this close* to getting that very same degree myself in University but I crapped out in stabbing people and tagging alley ways. I should have hit the books harder, clearly.




HHH Vs. Batista: Hell in a Cell for World Heavyweight Championship;


Just when I thought JR's Hell in the Cell quote of "The Devil's spa of pain and suffering" could not be beat, Ross comes out with "the Devil's duplex". And you know what? I think I actually lived there once. (Hey, cable was included, what do you want? A bath tub that doesn't feel like Lava? Maybe.).


Anyway, earlier in the night, Batista said he'd dominate in this environment, because, and I quote "you don't want to cage an animal." And well, I disagree. I do want to cage an animal.  After all, we can't just have animals running around loose on the streets because that'd be anarchy.


Anyhoo, discounting my completely stupid previous statement, this was a VERY good match. Maybe the best Big Dave has been involved in. The match managed to stay inside the cage (with the obviously pre-cut foot-holes on the side just acting as a reminder to us of times when this fucking thing was actually dangerous.). Regardless of the lack of bumps that originally made this match famous, it was still a good solid brawl, as HHH did some ECWish hardcore, only with actual psychology thrown in, and of course a pay check to show for it.


Batista dominates from the onset, but HHH gains the edge when he retrieves a standard TOOL BOX (you never know when you might want to do some plumbing and home repair whilst dropkicking) from under the ring and a CHAIN... in which he whips Batista like (wait for it) a RENTED MULE. (Be gentle with those rented mules though, after all, you do have to return them!). HHH then hangs Batista by the throat over the ropes with said chain. ANIMAL ABUSE.  Eventually though, Big Dave gets his hands on the chain, and wears out The Game with it. HHH however soon counters an irish whip and hits a spinebuster on Dave that is shades of Arn Anderson minus the alcoholism, and goes looking for more weapons from under the ring, this time pulling out a barbwire covered steel chair. Remind me to never accept an invite to a HHH dinner party. HHH then strikes DAVE twice with it, before Batista regains the advantage with a big clothesline and retrieves the chair, and hits HHH in the head with it drawing blood.


Batista then rakes the chair across Hunter's face as Ross uses up every "devil" and "demon" analogy there is to describe this BY GAWD CARNAGE. If we're all lucky, after a life of un-repented sin, the worst waiting for us will be a worked steel cage match. J.R. has made me a believer.


After some more back and forth, Hunter looks for the pedigree on the chair but DAVE back body drops out. However, HHH regains the advantage immediately, and Batista eats a DDT on the chair, and now it's Big Dave who's now wearing THE PROVERBIAL CRIMSON MASK. Man, Halloween must've been really awkward at the Solie house.


Now, it wouldn't be a Triple H match without a SLEDGEHAMMER, and Triple H retrieves said hammer from under the ring (Who's leaving all this shit under here?)  and uses it on DAVE for a close two count. Triple H then goes for the telegraphed over-head shot, but gets a Greco-Roman Bag shot by Batista. Big Dave then grabs the sledgehammer, but in the meantime, HHH has recovered the chain and clobbers Batista before he can use the hammer. Triple H then climbs up to the top rope, presumably for a chain-wrapped fist drop, but on the way down, Batista raises the sledgehammer and it catches HHH in the throat as he spews blood from the mouth in a great visual. Surprisingly, HHH doesn't die, as most heavy, blunt head trauma victims would after be bludgeoned with 50 pounds of iron and lead. But that's because they're pussies. Clearly.


Batista then grabs the steel stairs and brings the base into the ring and rams HHH into them in the corner, before setting up for a demonbomb. However, Hunter quickly counters with a low-blow and the DREADED PEDIGREE. You know, the one thing HHH established that Batista FEARS MOST (besides random blood tests). However, Batista manages to defy all scientific explanation and reason and kicks out of it's atomic-like power. Hiroshima? Pussies. The lot of them.


Now desperate, HHH sets up the steel stairs, and looks to pedigree Batista on them; however, DAVE counters that into a spinebuster onto the stairs, picks Hunter up for the second Demon-bomb attempt...and as he's hoisting HHH, Hunter grabs the sledgehammer... but fortunately for Batista, he executes the powerbomb before HHH can use it, and gets the pin!


Winner and still champion: Batista. I'd adopt him as a pet, if only he'd reveal what kind of animal he really is.



DAVE celebrates, but shows the effects of the match as we go off the air. End show.


Final Thoughts: I want to congratulate HHH for getting me. I've now realized how brilliant he is when it comes to psychology. Sure the marks hate him because they're supposed to, yet the "smarts" hate him because of how oversaturated his character seems to be; HOWEVER, no one right now can work your emotions like HHH, and there in lies the brilliance. You see, as "smart" as we think we are, HHH, through our "hatred" of him, causes us to pop when he finally does get beat. See Wrestlemania XX. See Wrestlemania XXI, and see tonight. Going in, and throughout the match, we were convinced through certain spots that Hunter will prevail. We groaned and we got angry, but still, in the end, he did the job in spectacular fashion and we popped like motherfuckers. Face it, fuckies, we're still marks. And he still fucks the boss's daughter in exchange for shiny belts.


Anyway, with this show, and the ECW show a couple of weeks ago, this has no doubt been the best solid month of wrestling in YEARS. And now with HHH/Batista finished, I'm actually looking forward to seeing where this is all going. Great PPV. Not one bad match (if you use fair standards), and by that logic, I have to give it a thumbs up. But now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go throw up in my bath tub.


I'm Sean.

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Sean Carless is a man of many hats. And he wears those hats to cover an ever-increasing bald spot. Sean's various scribblings have been read at Live Audio Wrestling, 411 Mania, Honky Tonk, The Toronto, and Lethal Wrestling. He has also cured AIDS.