Weedwhackers, Tables and Chairs Deathmatch

[Tamatoa Harikoa]

Main Event
Weedwhackers, Tables, and Chairs Deathmatch
Gnarfflinger The Butcher vs. Thomas Cathy



Venue: Solid Core Gym
Announcer: Izzy Wright
Commentary: Ray White and Jimmy Pate
Due: September 10th, 10PM Eastern time


EVPW's theme pumps oout around the Solid Core Gymnasium as the show draws ever closer to its end. Stage hands are setting upthe last of the weapons for the main event, testing the weedwhackers to make sure they work and artistically setting up tables and chairs around the arena. The unmistakable smell of Two-Stroke engine fuel fills the air. The lights are bright, the cameras are rolling, we are ready to go.

Jimmy Pate:
Hello and welcome back to Wendesday Night Genesis, tuning in now just in time for tonight's main event. And what a main event we have planned for you all tonight!

Ray White:
What kind of sick and twisted mind thinks up a match like this? Weedwhackers, tables and chairs. Whats wrong with Ladders?

Jimmy Pate:
Ray, calm yourself boy. This is historical. Where else can you see action like this? I'll tell you where, nowhere. Not on GHW, not on Blood and Guts Wrestling, nowhere.

It is Gnarfflinger the Butcher versus Thomas Cathy, round three here tonight. And while the Imperial Champion has been on quite the roll as of late, tonight, Gnarfflinger is in his element. Deathmatch, deathmatch, deathmatch!

Ray White:
They don't call him the Butcher for nothing...
He is a sick and demented Son of a Bitch to say the least. But he will be hungry to finally get one over on the cute as a button welshman.

Jimmy Pate:
First of all, I wouldn't describe Cardiff's most feared underground enforcer as "Cute as a Button", that bound to get your ass kicked. And secondly, coming from you, Gnarfflinger would probably take that as a compliment. Enough talk. We are ready to go.

As they say, Lets Get it On!

[/center]

Afew moments of silence pass, the crowd eagerly waiting in anticipation on the edges of their seats. After an agonising wait that seemed like an eternity, Thirce's Image of the Invisible rings out loudly through the arena, sending the fans wild. The lights die down somewhat as the introduction begins to play, the bleeping of morse code drowned out by a lightly distorted guitar in an all too familiar setting. The Tom-Cat, it would appear, is here.

Lights around the arena skitter from green to red and to a blinding white, sporatically timing with the music while Cathy's appearance is waited on. More and more, the verse plays through until it comes closer to the Chorus. Lizzie Morna, in the meantime is set up in the middle of the ring and ready to announce the match.

Lizzie Morna:
Ladies and Gentlemen. If you are at all squeamish, the following match will not be appropriate for you to watch, you have been warned.

The following is a WeedWhackers, Tables and Chairs Deathmatch scheduled for One Fall. All weapons are legal and encouraged to be used.

Introducing first... From the hard streets of Cardiff, Wales. Weighing in tonight at Two Hundred and Fourty Pounds. He is the Current EVPW Imperial Champion. The man known as the Tom-Cat, Thomas Cathy!

[/center]

As she excitedly reads his name out to the fans, the song reaches the downbeat of the chorus. The arena is suddenly covered with a blinding white glow, flooding the gym in light to the point where some fans shield their eyes. Standing at the top of the entranceway is the Tom-Cat, the title belt gleaming around his waist proudly. He stands with his arms folded, his eyes coldly staring out across the arena and toward the ring, littered with weapons, tables chairs and of course, a small gaggle of weedwhackers scattered around ringside. Expressionless, he proceeds toward the ring, not taking his eyes off the set up, focused on what is about to happen between himself and the veteran Butcher, Gnarfflinger.

He adjusts the white wreslting tape that straps his hands and wrists as he saudenrs slowly toward the ring. His usual support crew has turned out in drones tonight, the Welsh flag waving frantically at ringside. Many other fans have shown up in support for him also, but just as many hold signs and wear T-Shirts of support for his veteran opponent aswell. As he is used to, the crowd seem split in who to choose for the match. Not letting the hype get to him, Cathy shows no emotion as he trudges toward the ring in an almost Death March-like fashion. He walks with an air of respect, and air of confidence and an air of anticipation for the brutal match set out before him. Slowly but surely, the Tom-Cat gets closer and closer to the ring.

Jimmy Pate:
Well, still remaining as one of the only superstars in EVPW to go unbeaten in singles matches, the Tom-Cat has got to feel a little confidence heading into tonight's match. He is the champ, he has beaten Gnarfflinger twice with a Two and 'O' record against the Butcher.

Ray White:
But you said it yourself JP. Gnarfflinger is right in his element tonight. He bears the scars of many a battle, many a deathmatch. He is a ruthless bastard who will stop at nothing to shut this young punk down.

Jimmy Pate:
And the Tom-Cat has to match that brutality to stand a chance tonight. This ought to be one hell of a main event, thats for sure!

[/center]

The Tom-Cat takes the steps to the ring, wiping his feet respectfully on the ring apron before ducking into the ring. He bounds into the ropes on the opposite side of the ring, testing their durability before stepping into the middle of the ring, stretching his shoulders and arms in eager anticipation and pre-match ritual as he waits for his veteran rival to grace the arena with his presence.

TBC Gnarfflinger

[gnarfflinger]

The Lights go out. "99 Ways to Die" by Megadeth blasts over the loudspeakers as the Tom-Cat awaits his target.

What the hell?

It looks like a mummy coming out of the stands to assault Tom-Cat!

Wait a minute, It's the Butcher. I can tell by the barbed wire wrapped around his arms and legs, but I've never seen him with so many bandages? Who could have done that to him?

Probably some Jackass...

The bandaged bandit is indeed Gnarfflinger the Butcher, and the barbed wire wrapped arms scratch the back of the Welshman as the Butcher continues to hammer his foe with stiff forearm shots. The resilient youngster finds a chair and spins, driving it into the chest of the larger foe, backing him off. Tom-Cat follows this up with a chair shot to the head of the veteran. Gnarfflinger takes another step back, and upon eating a second shot to the head, he falls on his backside. Tom-Cat raises the chair, attempts to drive the chair into the ribs, but Gnarfflinger rolls aside...

Action starting quickly here tonight.

And already, he's mutilating that sexy Welshman. That body, and don't get me started on that accent...

JP Glares at Ray. Tom-Cat positions the chair for another strike, but the Butcher regains his feet and kicks it into the Welshman's face. The Butcher finds a weed whacker, struggles to start it, but abandons the plight as the Cardiff Crusher approaches. Gnarfflinger bludgeons him with the garden tool, then cross-checks him with it. As Tom-Cat backs up, he is pushed across a chair and he falls gracelessly. Gnarfflinger leaps the hazzard, catches his foe's back as he tries to get up, and begins choking him with the weed whacker...

TBC: Tom-Cat.

[Tamatoa Harikoa]

A sound like the noise of a Weedwhacker engine starting up begins to grow, but is eminating from Cathy's throat, not a Weedwhacker as he gargles and chokes like a Two-Stroke engine. The metal bar of the machine is tugged right up into his throat as the larger and menacing looking Gnarfflinger stands above his prey, choking the Tom-Cat out with the Weedwhacker. Cathy struggles to search for a way out, his arms swimming slowly in no particular direction. The life begins to fade from his face as the cold steel of the Weedwhacker is driven further and further into his esophogus.

Not wanting to go down without a fight, Cahty manages to reach behind his shoulders and grabs a hold of Gnarfflinger's head with both hands. He grits his teeth as he yanks the Butcher's head downwards in the desperate hopes that he would loosen the vice-like grip of a choke he has on the new champion. Using Gnarfflinger's head as a prop, the Tom-Cat pulls himself ever closer to a vertical base to level out the advantage the Butcher has over him. When he is standing enough, Cathy flicks a foot out behind him, catching the veteran in the groin. Instantly, Gnarfflinger drops the Weedwhacker, which clangs to the mat and hops backwards in suprise as his hands reach their way to protect the Family Jewels. Glad to be free of the deadly choke, the Tom-Cat staggers forward and tries to shake off the effects of having a Weedwhacker jammed up against his throat.

Jimmy Pate:
Jake Diamond has got to be looking on from his bedside wondering just what he has gotten himself into. I mean, sure the Tom-Cat is the champion, but he is far from polished in his inexperiance.

Ray White:
I don't care 'bout that at all. Looking and sounding as hunky as he does, he's got a bright future ahead of him... At least in my dreams he does.

Jimmy Pate:
You just keep your dreams to yourself. We are trying to boost ratings here, not loose them.

[/center]

Gnarfflinger stumbles directly into a chair, with his mind on other things at the time. As soon as his knees knock into the steel of the chair, it is like a spark back into action for him. He istinctively picks up the chair and flings it across the ring, narrowly missing the Tom-Cat. The fighting Welshman watches as the chair hurtles into the ring ropes and tumbles spectacularly to the floor outside of the ring, before wheeling around to find the source of the flying chair. Gnarfflinger and the young Cathy glare into each other's eyes, each reading just how hungry the other person is. As one, the charge toward each other, Cathy leaping over the discarded Weedwhacker on his way, and they collide in center ring. Both men are taken to the ground as they collide together like rams butting each other at full pace. With the wind knocked out of him, Cathy once more sturggles for air, while Gnarfflinger rolls out of harm's way, landing on his feet outside the ring, where a table looks up at him invitingly.

Not being one to turn down an offer, Gnarfflinger takes the table by the side and kicks the legs out from underneath it, collapsing it so it is flat. He slides the table back into the ring and picks up a second Weedwhacker for good measure. With his supplies of toys sorted, he enters the ring again, only to be met with the formiddable sound of an engine starting up. Thomas Cathy had gotten the discarded Weedwhacker working and proceeds to rev the engine manically, a twinkle in his eye and a mad expression spread across his face. Gnarfflinger wearily makes his way to his feet and begins to tug frantically at the chord for his own Weedwhacker, trying to start it to put up some sort of defence against the Welshman.

Ray White:
Its crazy that the sound of a Two-Stroke engine can strike fear into the hearts of the most hardened men. But when that engine is part of an instrument designed to chop things down, anything can happen.

Jimmy Pate:
And anything WILL happen Ray. All that the Tom-Cat needs to be told is "all weapons are legal" and he would feel right at home. He's from the Streets of Cardiff Ray, and if I know anything about the streets, that is that there are no rules.

Ray White:
How much exactly do you know about the streets JP... You don't seem like the Ghetto type. But one thing is for sure. Neither of these men will be particularly worried about the other man's wellbeing. There is a match to win out here!

[/center]

Cathy spies the veteran Butcher bent over his Weedwhacker, trying to start the engine with the rip-chord, and raises his own machine, revving the engine in delight. He heads closer to Gnarfflinger, the Weedwhacker screaming at full bore as it gets closer to its first victim. Gnarfflinger tries to move out of the way, but his actions come too late as the Weedwhacker is driven into his back. The screaming engine is met with resistance as Gnarfflinger's flesh begins too be torn up by the wildly swinging wire. The bandages that had covered the Butcher's body like a mummy are torn to shreds as they are first to come into contact with the lethal garden utensil. Bandages upon bandages begin to fall from the torso of Gnarfflinger, falling like snow to the mat below. As the wire from the Weedwhacker begins to tear away at the Butcher's tender flesh, he jumps into action and leaps away from the danger desperately.

He swings around, lifting up his own Weedwhacker to block the Tom-Cat's advance. The remainder of his bandages fall from around his chest, revealing a very red, fresh looking scar across his chest. The scar appears to be in the shape of two H's across his chest, etched into his flesh like a kid scrawling across a piece of paper with a crayon. His angered eyes tell all of how he is feeling, the young Welshman who had escaped his grasp twice before now once again posing a threat to his wellbeing. Gasps and murmers ring out around the arena as his scarred chest is revealed for all to see.

Jimmy Pate:
Jesus Christ!

How the hell did he get that. He looks like he has been ripped apart by a pack of wild dogs!

Ray White:
A very specific pack of wild dogs. Look at the scar, does it look like two H's to you?

Jimmy Pate:
Bloody hell! The Butcher has been Butchered... And there aren't too many names that HH can stand for.

Ray White:
And if he's not careful now. He could get some Weedwhacker scars to match his new tattoo... I know Gnarfflinger's one rtough son of a bitch, but this is madness.

Jimmy Pate:
Madness?

This is EVPW!

[/center]

Cathy's eyes twinkle as he rev's the Weedwhacker's engine once more, but this time Gnarfflinger is ready for it. He brings his own Weedwhacker up to meet the Tom-Cat's weapon. Both man are armed, both men are dangerous. Both men are hungry for blood.

TBC Gnarff

[gnarfflinger]

As Tom-Cat moves forward, the Butcher parries the yard tool, steps to the side and rides the shaft of the weapon into the chest of the young Welshmen. He screams in pain as he drops the weed whacker, recoils away from the Butcher and finds a chair to serve as a shield in the face of further advance. He is backed into the corner, throws the chair at the Butcher, and shoots in under the weapon of grass destruction to go for a double leg takedown.

The Youngster has gone on the defensive and it looks like he has evaded the worst of the Butcher's intentions.

But that sick fuck still has much evil in his black heart for that sexy kid...

The Butcher falls on his ass, the weed whacker bounces harmlessly away from the battling brawlers, and the Cardiff Crusher commences a flurry of fists to the Canadian's cranium. Gnarfflinger's arms flail around, finding another chair. He makes a weak one hand shot stalling the offense of his opponent. The Butcher gets both hands on the chair, and crashes it into the head of the Welsh warrior. Tom-Cat loses the mounted position, the Butcher tosses the chair at his foe, then kips up, coming forward with a double axehandle driving the chair into the face of his foe. A spinning heel kick drives the chair into the face of his foe a second time. Tom- Cat staggers back and falls to the corner. Gnarfflinger moves in driving shoulders into the chest of the younger foe.

The Butcher has control again, and he goes to the basics to wear down his opponent.

As long as he leaves the face alone...

TBC: Tom-Cat.

[Tamatoa Harikoa]

Shoulder after vicious shoulder is pummeled into the chest of the Tom-Cat, each one with evil intentions written all over it. Cathy's head slumps forward defeatedly as the rampaging Butcher takes out his frustration on the young Welshman. Finally, having had enough of decimating his opponent with his shoulder, Gnarfflinger reaches out and grabs the Tom-Cat's wrist. He yanks at Cathy, Irish whipping him to fling him across the ring, but in the process, Cathy reverses the move and sends the veteran hurtling into the corner, across the opposite side of the ring. The sadistic Canadian is driven chest first into the lightly padded steel turnbuckle and does all he can to stop himself falling backwards, holding onto the ropes to steady himself. He turns round in time to catch the Welsh street-thug chasing him down across the ring. The quick thinking veteran ducks momentarily, standing up only to launch the Welshman over his shoulders and into the air. Cathy flies through the air, clearing the turnbuckle completely and hurtling out of the ring. He crashes through a table set up outside the ring prior to the match, his arms and legs flailing out in all different directions as he falls. As he smashes through the solid wooden table, the crowd cheer, egging on the action. The cheer only dies down as it is drowned out by a chant of "Holy Shit" that fills the arena.

Jimmy Pate:
Thankyou for flying Butcher airways. Hope you enjoyed your flight

Ray White:
That was hard to watch JP. My poor beautiful Welsh hunk being tossed aside like yesterday's dinner.

Jimmy Pate:
Well, that Tom-Cat sure didn't land on his feet this time!

Feeling the match surge in his favour, Gnarfflinger picks up one of the discarded Weedwhackers and tests the engine, revving it manically. With the weapon held in front of him with both hands, the Butcher slides out of the ring and heads over to where the Tom-Cat lies in the wreckage of table and woodchips. Revving the engine once more, Gnarfflinger the Butcher leowrs the Weedwhacker towards the Welshman and watches gleefully as the rapidly spinning wires begin to cut away at the Welshman's flesh. The high pitched engine struggles slightly as it tears into Cathy's flesh. A gargle of protest and pain escapes the usually calm and collected mouth of the Welsh enforcer.

Ray White:
Eww. That is a sickening sound. What on earth is he doing to the poor guy. He's mutilating him!

Jimmy Pate:
The Butcher is just doing what the Butcher does best, inflicting pain. It just so happens that he has a Weedwhacker to help him out.

[/center]

With a large gash opened up on Cathy's chest and the surrounding flesh cut to ribbons from the Weedwhacker, the Welshman kicks out deperately, catching Gnarfflinger on the hand and causing him to drop the weapon. Still reeling from the effects of Gnarfflinger's punishment, Cathy slumps back down into the wreckage of the table, his body looking battered, bleeding and broken. Without a doubt, this is the toughest match he has been in in his short career, a side of the Butcher he head never really seen before and a pain searing through his body that he had never felt in his life.
"Now", he thinks to himself, "I know what all of my victims felt back home. Jesus!"

His internal monologue is cut short as the rabid Butcher stomps a big boot directly into the freshly opened gash in the Tom-Cat's chest. Time and time again, Gnarfflinger kicks out and stomps on every inch of unprotected flesh he can see on the Tom-Cat's body, wearing him down, picking him apart. It only seems like a matter of time until the match is his.

TBC Gnarff

[gnarfflinger]

The Butcher gleefully stomps away on his younger adversary. AS he does, his eyes glance around for yet another way to ruin this man's day. Unfortunately while his eyes are off his opponent, he receives a chair--jabbed right into his nuts! Gnarfflinger topples to the floor, while Tom-Cat finds a weedwhacker! He revs it good, shoves it towards the Butcher's face--only to have it sputter and die a split second before it makes contact.

It looks like Tom-Cat is having trouble with the weed whacker.

Oh NO! This is not the time to run out of gas! That sadistic prick is coming for you!

As the Street thug from Cardiff struggles to restart the weed whacker, the Butcher spears him. The impact takes his prey hard to the steel ring post. As the young Welshman lands on his ass, the Butcher produces a steel spike from his boot. Gnarfflinger finds a cut on the forehead of the Tom-Cat, and uses the spike to make it bigger. In no time, the young Welshman who has bested the Butcher twice already sports a crimson mask. Gnarfflinger bites into the cut, savouring the fresh blood of his victim in a near primal state of euphoria.

Ray! This is an amazing match, why is your head in the waste basket?

Ray pukes into the can.

When am I going to learn not to ask...

TBC: Tom-Cat...

[Tamatoa Harikoa]

As the Butcher continues to bite, sickening gorans begin to sound around the Gymnasium from the images. Gnarfflinger pulls his head away from the Tom-Cat's forehead, his mouth covered in the fresh blood of the Welshman and a large, red smile sickeningly placed across his face. In a desperate attempt to push the crazed veteran away, the Tom-Cat kicks out and catches the Butcher in the groin, causing him to keel over sideways. Cathy scampers away from the mad Butcher, savouring his face, savouring his dignity and staying in the match. He retrieves another chair from ringside while the Butcher begins the chase after him, metal spike in hand and licking his lips thoughtfully. Cathy mutters just loud enough to be picked up by the overhead mikes

Tom-Cat:
You sick bastard...

The closer Gnarfflinger gets, the more the Welshman readies himself to strike and unloads with the chair in a full offensive, slamming it over the head of the veteran while letting a warcry of sorts escape his lips. The shot takes Gnarfflinger by suprise, who drops the steel spike with a clang to the ground. He shakes off the weariness, just in time to be hit a second time. Crazed in anger and frustration at the Butcher, the Tom-Cat keeps swinging the chair with all his might. Shot after shot lands on the top of the head of Gnarfflinger. He begins to drive him into the ground like a tent-peg. Each shot comes with a sicening crack of metal on flesh and bone, and each shot spurts more and more blood out over the battle weary face of the Butcher.

Jimmy Pate:
These two men whould be in straightjackets, not in a wrestling ring. This is turning into a straight out brawl. I don't think they even care who wins this thing, as long as the other person does not walk away from it.

Ray White:
Ooh. I don't feel so good. I just want this to be over so I can go home.

Eventually, the Tom-Cat tosses the bent out of shape chair aside as Gnarfflinger falls to his knees, then flat on his face. Cathy admires his wirk as he watches his opponent decimated in front of him. Slowly, he climbs up onto the apron, then up onto the top turnbuckle. Not one to try aerial moves very often, the Tom-Cat looks down over the battered and broken body of Gnarfflinger, lining him up carefully. Satisfied, he leaps off the turnbuckle, his arms flailing out at his sides. He leaps feet first and lands with a two footed stomp across the back of the Butcher. A large crack accompanies the move as Gnarfflinger screams out in pain once more. The crowd lets out another chant of "Holy Shit..." as the ruthless Welshman rolls to safety. Gnarfflinger holds his back, where the imprints of Cathy's boots are now tattooed into his flesh. He swims with his arms, trying to get away, but without the enregy to move.

Jimmy Pate:
Oh my god!
You don't see the Welshman take to the air very often. But that was a brutal Black Jesus Ghetto Stomp from the top turnbuckle. He could have broken Gnarfflinger the Butcher's back with that one.

Ray White:
What else is going to happen tonight before one person walks away the winner?
What will it take?
I want to go home JP!

[/center]

TBC Gnarfflinger