Anyway, I had a bottle of rum and a free morning, so I decided to watch it to see if it was any good. The answer is yes and no.
Dark match: Corey Idlewild d. Telestar 400. Idlewild is a basic 23 year old dude in trunks who comes to the ring with a wooden shield for unclear reasons. Telestar is a guy in a robot costume made of painted cardboard who comes out to "Highway Star". Idlewild is a house of fire early, and pieces of Telestar's poorly secured costume are coming off left and right. It quickly becomes obvious he's totally nude under all that. Idlewild tries a roll up, but just gets a handful of cardboard. Telestar kicks him in the face, then a double underhook suplex for the win. As Idlewild recovers, his father in the front row loudly disowns him.
We're live! I mean, we've been live for a few minutes now. Herpes Hugginton's music plays, but he's nowhere to be seen, forcing the timekeeper to announce the rest of the show.
Franklin Kilbrant of The Kilbrant Brothers d. The Horchata Lamb. Yes, that's how that first guy was announced. Franklin has a nebulous Viking kind of look, but carries a picture of what I assume is his twin brother, but that dude is clean shaven and in a suit. Horchata Lamb is a luchadore whose entire outfit is an uneasy shade of off-white, almost a cream. He's really hairy too, which is weird for a dude in a mask. Kilbrant dominates the match, except for a segment where Lamb scores a dropkick, then insisted on shaking the referee's hand. Kilbrant kinda just banged his head into the mat a few times and pinned him, very anticlimactic.
For some reason, the stage set up went off at full blast now, horns and explosions and smoke, setting off a few car alarms. The wind was blowing right at us too, so all that shit just ran over the crowd for a few minutes, like a hot, oily twilight. One kid in the front row couldn't get enough, he was waving it into his mouth. When the timekeeper stops coughing, he announces the next match. He's clearly not happy.
Lord Gorsh d. Leslie Kiln. Gorsh gets on the microphone and gives a long winded thing about the fans being unintelligent and not respecting him, despite the fact that he got a massive face pop minutes earlier. Kiln's tights read "It's Not A Girl's Name", and they're in desperate need of a washing. I'm not kidding when I say these guys chain wrestle for fifteen minutes, before Kiln pulls out a pair of brass knuckles and bloodies Gorsh. "Unnecessary escalation, that's my thing!" he yells at the referee, who immediately disqualifies him. Gorsh gets a standing ovation from the fans, and he responds with two middle fingers before slinging some of his blood on the front row.
T.O.R.T.S d. Cillian Doyle and The Blue Lemon. The T.O.R.T.S. read from law books on the way to the ring, which seems to get no reaction. Doyle is a Samoan who appears to have a tattoo of the Chrysler Building on his back, and the Blue Lemon wears a red singlet. The T.O.R.T.S. take forever to get out of their three piece suits, and Doyle and Lemon attack. There was a lot of flapping of clothes, and the referee counted to three as Doyle was somehow pinned in all that mess. My eyes were starting to sting a bit by this point, and the woman next to me was wiping off her tongue with a Kleenex, which I found disgusting for some reason.
The Foaming Sommelier d. Carlos "Wi Fine" Castillo, Porkadora #2, Porkadora #3. Four way dance for the vacant LWF Gore title. Masks, full body suits for the Porkadoras (brothers, teammates, unclear), and they surprisingly rip into each other as the bell rings. Sommelier and Castillo just watch as their brawl spills to the floor, then into the crowd. Sommelier and Castillo go nose to nose, then do three rounds of rock-paper-scissors, which Sommelier wins 2-1. Castillo lays down for the three count, and is presented with a nice White Bordeaux by the new champion. LWF staff eventually resort to using a hose to separate the fighting Porkadoras.
The stage set goes off AGAIN, and this time the exhaust is clearly aimed at the audience. The wind had calmed, so this one took more than a few minutes to pass. When it finally clears, about of a quarter of the crowd is either gone or weakly slumped over in their seats. I notice that workers at the merchandise booth are wearing those old WWII style gas masks. Smart.
Jerry "Spankable" Cage d. Lou Foolin. The crowd erupted when this was announced as a cage match, which was replaced by confusion when everyone realized there was no cage around the ring. Foolin understandably brings this up on the microphone, to which Cage responds that every match is a Cage match with him. Foolin says this is the last straw for him in the LWF, and he could go make a fortune being a lobbyist. Foolin leaves the ring, giving Cage the countout win. Enraged fans begin pelting the ring with glass bottles, which weren't even sold at the event, as Cage runs for the locker room.
Fifteen minute intermission. Lotta people coughing, and I saw an ambulance with lights but no siren. Bumped into a guy I knew from high school, who seemed unaware that he was bleeding from the nostrils. Also saw Bobby Rage, but managed to avoid that encounter. Got a Ralf Wheels Dog and a can of Dr. Pumice from the concession stand, $16.18. It ends up being twenty eight minutes.
Professor Duvall & Scratching Cowboy v. El Hijo del Snort & The Wrestler Formerly Known As Joe Pageau went to a no contest. Duvall is served divorce papers on the way to the ring, and spends the entire match on his knees sobbing in the aisle. Cowboy holds his own against two opponents for a while until TWFKAJP hits the hot tag to Snort. Snort is fired up, and pulls off his mask to reveal another exactly the same as he was wearing. Cowboy hits an eyepoke and a fallaway slam, but the Honorable Butch Faber, LWF Legal Counsel grabs the ringside mic and declares this match to be illegal. Amazingly, everyone stops in place and silently returns to the locker room. Duvall must have left at some point, because I didn't see him.
Kevin Tulane is on the stage, with his special guest Pooh Oxburg, who tells the crowd that he's not just going to defeat "Ill Child" Seo-Jun at the LWF Sensory Deprivation pay-per-view, he's going to take back (his) watch band. He then claimed Seo-Jun will be like a can of beans in a wet pillowcase, which I guess is a catchphrase of his, because the crowd went apeshit. Weird that I'd never heard it. On the way off the stage, Tulane burns his hand on one of the hundreds of still hot pipes and lets out an audible "####".
Celestial Mess ("Gas Giant" Huntley & The Quasar Czar) d. Charley Ribbons & Merck McUrk. For the LWF/St. Paul Pork Products Heartland Tag Team Championship. Celestial Mess are the champions, and do a thing where their belts are dropped into the ring via parachute. But the plane that I guess was supposed to drop them makes several low passes instead, trailing a banner accusing Huntley of being a sodomite and a bad brother-in-law. Ribbons and McUrk take the early advantage with some good double team maneuvers, but have this off-putting thing of tweaking each other's noses after each successful one. A low blow from Huntley traps Ribbons in the wrong part of town, but he manages to eventually make the hot tag to McUrk, who runs right into a Quasar Czar small package for the three count. Huntley frantically searches the sky, as the Czar takes his hand and leads him away.
Everything kinda has an orange haze to it and lots of people seem to be struggling with breathing. It sounds like being in a cornfield in a light wind. The timekeeper announces it's time for the main event, and I notice the Venture store has boarded up its windows. Wonder how I missed that happening.
Shawn Gong d. Combative Corpse. Last Man Standing match for the LWF Outdoor Championship. Gong is the champion, and we have to wait 1:18 for the cool part of his entrance music. Corpse attacks before the bell, and confusingly starts working Gong's arm. The referee seems distracted by the presence of another referee sitting in the front row. Gong reverses the tide with an ankle lock that somehow comes out of a failed Thez press, and works the joint to several 8 to 9 counts. Porkadora #6 is suddenly here, and he slides a machete into the ring, motioning for Gong to literally cut Corpse's foot off. Gong picks up the weapon and considers it, before instead stabbing it halfway into the mat near the corner. The crowd seems disappointed. A guy in a velvet robe comes down the ramp, it says Nero Tickles on the back, and he drags off the referee at ringside, yelling something about rice not growing here, which gets a massive pop. In the ring, Corpse is still on the mat, and he grabs his crotch in Gong's direction. Gong pulls the machete from the ring, and holds it to Corpse's throat, who lies there for the full ten count. A crying Corpse hobbles back to the locker room past Porkadora #6, who applauds Gong.
We're brusquely informed that the show is over, and we should leave quickly, as the stage still needs to "vent". Pretty much everyone does, either under their own power or assisted. All in all, an entertaining show despite some questionable environmental hazards. I had to wash my car three times that week.
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