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Rubbing Elbows With The Greats; Big Evil 11/6/2007
Topic Started: Feb 6 2008, 12:01 PM (464 Views)
Harmony
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Gogz once fucked a ginger
[ *  *  * ]
Outside a tall Hotel in Melbourne, Australia, Big Evil stands by with Mitchell Cole.

Mitchell Cole: For those of you viewing live on BQWA.com, we thank you for tuning in. I'm Mitchell Cole, alongside me stands the Enforcer of the Featured Attraction, the supposed Baddest MF'er of all-time, Big Evil. Big, I have to ask you, why have you brought me and more importantly, the viewers of BQWA.com here to this building in Melbourne, Australia?

Big Evil: Cole, it's quite simple. We're a little over a week away from Nemesis, and the War Games match itself. For weeks, I've been ranting and raving about being a rookie in the War Games match and wanting to get advice from some of the greats. Well, I looked beyond DXKid, I looked beyond Adam Edge. I even looked beyond The Book from the TRTWF. I went right to the heart of the War Games, to the people that started it all and made the match what it was for the 80's and 90's. I spent as much money as I needed to, I invited as many of these legendary greats down to Melbourne, Australia, and inside this hotel they are. I've brought you here, simply put Cole, to enjoy the ride and so everybody can glimpse Big Evil getting the information he needs and deserves to put on a good show at the War Games. And more importantly, to end some peoples careers. Like I've said, I ain't in it to win it, but some men are gonne die, and it's gonna be because of me.

Mitchell Cole: Well, in that case, let's follow you inside and get this started!

=====================================================================

We fade into a shot of Big Evil walking down a hallway with Mitchell Cole following him closely behind with a microphone. Big Evil stops right in front of one of the meeting rooms of the hotel and turns towards Cole and the camera.

Big Evil: Cole, inside this meeting room, as I stated, are the best of the best, the biggest legends in this business, the men who made War Games what it is. It's a literal who's who of some of the best of all-time.

Mitchell Cole: Well, uh, let's go on inside then.

Big Evil opens the doors to the meeting room with Cole right behind him. Big Evil, and even Cole, are expecting to see highly-toned, body building greats. They're expecting to see the best of the best in their prime. But with Father Time looming, they definetely do not get what they expected.

Big Evil: ...

Mitchell Cole: Oh my.

It's practically a circus of nutcases, weirdos and drunks instead of legends, hall of famers and good ol' boys. Off towards the center of the room, Ric Flair is struting around, drunk off his ass, wearing nothing but a robe, with two maids on his arm. He's WOOOO'ing up a storm, loudly and obnoxiously. Off towards the corner, behind a large potted plant, Tully Blanchard looks around inconspicously, hoping nobody sees him. Blanchard digs his pinky finger into a small bag, and puts his finger up to his nose, snorting something back in. Directly across the room from Tully stands Nikita Koloff singing from a kareokee machine. It's not any normal pop hit he's singing, for he's singing the church classic "Amazing Grace", in his thick, bear-like Russian accent. Up on the table in the middle of the room, Kamala the Ugandan Giant is throwing a fit, with his mask on, slapping his belly out of anger. Kim Chee, his handler, is attempting to calm him down. Brutus Beefcake, aka, The Zodiac is off by the corner where Blanchard is. He takes his large trimmers, cutting down the branches off of the plant. Blanchard runs like hell.

Big Evil: What the fuck is this...

Suddenly, none other than Dusty Rhodes pops up right in front of Big Evil, and proceeds to cut the most illegible, yet, probably greatest promo of all-time.

Dusty Rhodes: BIG EVAL BABAY~! IT'S DA AMERICAN DWREAM, DUSTAY RHODES~! AND RIGHT NOW SHUGA, YOU'ZE IN DA MIDDLE OF AN AUSTRALIAN DWREAM BABAY~! WE'VE GOT DUSTAY~! WE'VE GOT NIKITA~! WE'VE GOT AHN AHNDASON AND DA FOAH HOASAMAN~! WE'VE GOT THAT BIG FAT AFRICAN GIANT UP DERE NAMED HARMONY DA UGANDAN GIANT PATTIN' HIS BELLY~! LEMME TELL YA BABY DOLL, I'B SEEN SOME NASTAY THANGS IN MY LIFE, I'VE WINED AND DINED WITH KINGS AND QUEENS, AND I'VE SLEPT IN ALLEYS AND DINED ON PORK AND BEANS, BABAY~! IT DONE LOOKS LIKE DAT FAT BLACK HARMAONY DONE ATE DA KING, DA QUEEN, DA ALLEY, DA PORK, DA BEANS AND EVEN SAPPHIRE BABAY~!

Big Evil: Uh. What?

Dusty Rhodes: AH HELL BABAY~!

Dusty leans forward and wallops Cole over the head with a viscious Bionic Elbow, knocking him out instantly. Rhodes scurries off, ranting and raving. Big Evil looks around in shock and awe, he continues to walk around the room. He stops at Ric Flair and looks at him, with a disgusted look on his face. Flair stops, and returns a smiling, drunk look to Big Evil.

Ric Flair: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!

Big Evil: Look at you. You're a disgusting drunk. And to think, I idolized you.

Ric Flair: The way I SEE IT PLAYBOY, YOU...STILL...DO! WOOOOOOOOOO! YOU'RE A DRUNK! A DRUNK! YOU! ARE! A! DRUNK! A NASTY ONE! AND HOW DO I KNOW THAT?! NOT FROM WATCHING THE BQWA, DEFINETELY NOT! BUT BECAUSE YOUR EX-WIFE TOLD ME WHILE SHE WAS DOING THAT LITTLE THING WITH HER TOUNGE YOU USED TO LIKE! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! HORSEMEN! BACK ME UP!

Big Evil: Oh christ.

Ric Flair: THAT'S RIGHT! I'VE GOT THE HORSEMEN WITH ME, BABY! WE ARE THE HORSEMEN! DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER, AND SO ARE THE FOUR HORSEMEN~!

Over walks Arn Anderson and Tully Blanchard.

Arn Anderson: What seems to be the problem here?

Big Evil: Oh shit, Double A. You're like my idol, man. And you seem to be the only one here with their head on straight.

Tully Blanchard: I resent that!

Big Evil looks at Tully, who's got a massive display of white powder covering most of his face, obviously cocaine.

Big Evil: I suggest you go look in a mirror, then rethink that statement.

With a slanty eyed, 'please dont catch me' look, Blanchard runs off to clean his face off.

Big Evil: Double A, I just came here to get advice from the men who made War Games great. From the men who could actually teach me a thing or two on how to at least hurt people, even if I didn't win the match. The Horsemen were first on my list, and heading the Horsemen section of my list was you, without a doubt.

After Big Evil makes his comments, he looks over at Double A to see that he's nodded off.

Big Evil: Double A?...Arn?...Mr. Anderson?...Arn?...DOUBLE A?!

Arn finally shakes out of it and wakes up. He fixes his glasses, reaches in his mouth to fix his dentures, then looks at his watch.

Arn Anderson: Ah shit, it's 4pm, I gotta go take my heart medication.

Arn runs off out of the meeting room, leaving Big Evil feeling a bit dead inside. Flair struts off with the ladies, and an out of nowhere drink in his hand. Big Evil continues to walk around, when suddenly, Stevie Ray stops him and begins to rant and rave.

Stevie Ray: Listen on up, punk sucka. I'll tell ya how to done be winnin' da War Games match.

Big Evil: Who are you, the black Dusty Rhodes?

Stevie Ray: No, foo'. I'm Stevie Ray.

Big Evil: Stevie Ray Vaughn? I thought you were dead.

Stevie Ray: No, sucka bitch punk foo'. Stevie Ray. Booker T's brother. Harlem Heat.

Big Evil: ...

Stevie reaches into his pocket and pulls out his infamous slapjack.

Stevie Ray: Dis ring a bell?

Big Evil: OH THE SLAPJACK GUY! YOU WERE THE MAN IN WCW! HAHA YES!

Stevie Ray: Damn son, you ain't even know who Stevie Ray is. Stevie Ray was gon' give you advice to win da War Games, but to hell with that now pucka sunk fitch boo'.

Big Evil: I think you said that wrong.

Stevie slaps Big Evil across the side of the neck with the slapjack and then walks away. Big Evil holds his neck in a slight pain.

Big Evil: Shit. That stings a little bit. Kinda. Okay, I'm over it.

Big Evil happens to look off in the corner to see the lights shut off and some dramatic, church organ music playing. Nikita Koloff is still on the microphone.

Nikita Koloff: Ladies Gentlemen, I am Russian Bear son of Ivan Koloff, from Communist Russia. Yes. Very Nice. I am born 'gain Christian and I love the Jesus. Now, I introduce you to man who also love the Jesus. His name is Icon STING~!

Sting's TNA music begins to play and a few lights begin flashing, but stay off for the most part. From the ceiling, seemingly out of nowhere, Sting lowers down from the rafters, looking bad ass as ever.

Big Evil: This could work.

Once Sting lands on his feet, he unhooks himself from his harness and grabs a spare microphone from the kareokee machine.

Sting: YEAAAAAAAAAAAHOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

Everyone stops what they're doing, hoping to hear Sting speak, and Big Evil's hoping even for a few words of advice and encouragement. Out of nowhere, a chorus of old-black church ladies pop up from nowhere and begin humming and singing like only old-black church ladies can do. Sting and Nikita begin singing a religious song.

Sting: JESUS!

Nikita: JESUS!

Sting: JESUS!

Nikita: JESUS!

Sting: JESUS!

Nikita: JESUS!

Sting: JESUS!

Nikita: JESUS!

Sting: JESUS!

Nikita: JESUS!

Big Evil turns in disgust and goes to walk away.

Big Evil: The church singing and born again shit, I can understand. But a black church choir? The hell did they get them from anyway?

While walking off, Big Evil bumps right into the chest of a massive giant. No, don't get your panties wet, it ain't the Big Show. Big Evil looks up to see the derranged, twisted look of Sid Viscious looking down upon him.

Big Evil: Err...uhh...Hi...uh...uh...uh...Sid. What's uh...uh...up?

Sid: *in real low, monotone, psycho voice*...So I hear you've been looking for advice to cause some serious damage in the War Games match. Boy, let me tell you what. You need to hurt people. You need to make them bleed. You need to make them suffer. You need to do things to these people that you've never done to anyone else in your career. And I can promise you that if you do that, you will win the match whether you want to or not. And in turn, you will be the Master...and the RULER...of the WORLD.

No response.

Sid: ...Evil?

Big Evil: Huh? Oh, sorry, Sid. I wasn't paying attention. Nikita and Sting just went into a duet of "Proud Mary" and it was pretty solid. Can you repeat that?

Letting off an inaudiable yell, Sid walks off, ready to destroy a wall, break his leg, or kill a child. Big Evil holds his hears in pain after hearing the loud, sharp yell of Sid. Suddenly, he hears a voice whisper his name from the bathroom. It sounds like a woman.

Woman Voice: Mister Eeeeeeeviiiiiiiiiil...I've got all the secrets that you want for the War Games match right here in the bathroom...

Out of pure curiosity, and hopes of turning this debacle into a sex-capade, Big Evil wanders into the bathroom with a big smile on his face, hoping to find a sexy lady. Instead, he lets out a girlish shreik and runs back out into the room. He turns around and coming out behind him is none other than Dustin Runnels dressed up as Goldust. The two lock eyes for a moment, but then, Goldust sucks in some air and snaps his mouth at Big Evil in his infamous perverse manner.

Big Evil: What the fuck?! You really are a sick freak, aren't you?!

Goldust: I'm Sorry Daddy. I'll Be A Good Girl. - Shirley Temple, Good Ship Lollipop, 1932. Of course I'm a sick freak Mr. Evil, it's what I was put on earth to do. And whether you want to realize it or not, this sick freak has the cure for the ailment that has been bothering you for so long, so so so long.

Big Evil: Err...What's that?

Goldust: I've been on a winning War Games team twice in my career, and Mr. Evil, I can make sure your country bumpkin, delicious, redneck, honkytonkin' self walks out...*sucks in air*...mmmm, victorious.

Big Evil: Well, what's the secrets? What do I need to do?

Goldust leans forward with a sultry manner and whispers in Big Evil's ear. Goldust pulls back after a few seconds, licking his lips. Big Evil lets out another girlish shreik and jumps back almost 10 feet in the air.

Big Evil: AH! WHAT THE! WHAT THE! WHAT THE HELL! YOU WANNA DO WHAT?! TO MY WHAT?! WITH A WHAT?!

Goldust goes to lean in again and whisper, but Big Evil pushes him away.

Big Evil: NO! NO! I HEARD YOU, YOU SICK FREAK! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!

Big Evil rushes away from Goldust and makes a scene in the middle of the room.

Big Evil: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! CAN'T ANY OF YOU HELP ME?! AREN'T ANY OF YOU NORMAL ANYMORE?! ARE YOU ALL INSANE?! HAS FATHER TIME REALLY BITCH SLAPPED THE BALLS OFF OF EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU?! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!

Dusty Rhodes: It was da cocaine, babay.

Ric Flair: And the booze, WOOOO.

Goldust: *sucks in air*...And the temptations.

Tully Blanchard looks up from the bathroom counter, with an even bigger white powdery mess on his face.

Tully Blanchard: And the cocaine.

Big Evil: Damnit to hell. All of you get outta here, right now. This is goddamned ridiculous. I wasted almost $100,000 dollars getting all of you down here, and for what? A goddamned WCW 2000 segment. Fuck.

BOOM! A big gapping hole in the wall appears and through the mess pours out a stumbling, and eventually falling down, SHOCKMASTER! Fred Ottoman eventually drops his helmet and quickly puts it back on. He stands back up quickly and points at Big Evil. An eerie voice over plays, appearing to be Shockmaster's voice.

Shockmaster: Big Evil. You don't appear to be too Big. Or too Evil. So how does that make you Big Evil? To me, you're Small Good. Because you're small, and you're not great, but you are good. And if you want a piece of me, then come over here and get it, or, you can wait til the War Games. AH HA AH HA AH HA AH HA!

Big Evil: (IMG:style_emoticons/smilies/blink.gif)

Shockmaster: AH HA AH HA AH HA AH HA!

Big Evil: Anyone got the Ultimate Warrior's number? I feel I would've been able to understand that better with a Warrior interpretation.

From the corner of his eye, Big Evil sees Kamala up to no good while still atop the long meeting room table in the center of the room. Kim Chee is flipping out and this causes Big Evil to turn full attention to it. He turns to see Kamala squatted down on the table, taking a massive dump, that passes through his bowels, just missing his loin cloth, and landing flat on the table, making a squishy, nasty noise.

Big Evil: Dear lord.

Everyone starts to head for hills, backing up in the corners, and huddling together, believing that'll stop the smell and germ spreading of human feces. Big Evil stands in awe, still shocked and disgusted at what's gone on here today. Goldust sneaks up behind him again, grabs his butt and licks the back of his neck.

Big Evil: AH! FUCK THIS! I'M GETTING THE FUCK OUTTA HERE! I'D RATHER GET KILLED IN THE WAR GAMES MATCH!

Big Evil hightails it out of the board room, leaving a bunch of confused, high, drunk and just plain senile veterans, legends and hall of famers in the room, at a stand still because of the shit. Suddenly, we see none other than Ron Simmons walk by, who we haven't seen in two months. Ron looks into the board room, examining the damage done, as well as looking at how bad and horrible some of his old running buddies have become. He looks back around and happens to see the camera standing there. He's sort of taken aback at first, but then slowly shakes his head in dissapointment. Instead of saying anything, he just walks off.

Nikita Koloff: He not say catchphrase. What a off rip!

Arn Anderson: It's rip off you Russian faggot, and don't worry, it's coming.

A few more minutes pass by, still nothing.

Arn Anderson: Isn't it?

A few more minutes, and still nothing.

Brutus Beefcake: Anyone gonna clean that shit up anytime soon?

Almost 20 minutes at this point, still nothing.

Tully Blanchard: Hey, Brutus, you got some coke? I'm trying to score some free coke.

12 hours later, it's now late at night, and nobody has moved from their spots yet. Finally, they break loose and go to leave the board room. As soon as they exit, Ron Simmons appears again.

Ron Simmons: DAMN~!

Simmons scares the absolute hell out of every single person in the area. The scene finally fades.
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Big Evil
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On TBS. Very Funny.

still think this was my best promo ever
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