888888ba 88888888b 888888ba 888888ba 88 `8b 88 88 `8b 88 `8b 88 88 a88aaaa a88aaaa8P' a88aaaa8P' 88 88 88 88 `8b. 88 88 .8P 88 88 88 88 8888888P 88888888P dP dP dP ...PROUDLY PRESENTS... @@@@@@@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@@ @@@ @@@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@@ @@! @@! !@@ @@! @@@ @@! @@! @@!@!@@@ !@@ !@! !@! !@! !@! @!@ !@! !@! !@!!@!@! !@! @!!!:! !!@ !@! @!@!@ @!@!@!@! @!! !!@ @!@ !!@! !@! @!@!@ !!!!!: !!! !!! !!@!! !!!@!!!! !!! !!! !@! !!! !!! !!@!! !!: !!: :!! !!: !!: !!! !!: !!: !!: !!! :!! !!: :!: :!: :!: !:: :!: !:! :!: :!: :!: !:! :!: !:: :: :: ::: :::: :: ::: :: :: :: :: ::: :::: : : :: :: : : : : : : :: : :: :: : @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@ @@@@@@@ @@@@@@@ @@@@@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@ @@@ @@! @@! @@! @@! @@@ @@! @@@ @@! @@@ !@@ @@! !@! !@! !@! !@! @!@ !@! @!@ !@! @!@ !@! !@ @!! !!@ @!@ @!@ !@! @!@!!@! @!@ !@! !!@@!! @!@ !@! !!! !@! !@! !!! !!@!@! !@! !!! !!@!!! !!! !!: !!: !!: !!: !!! !!: :!! !!: !!! !:! :!: :!: :!: :!: !:! :!: !:! :!: !:! !:! :!: :::: :: ::: ::::: :: :: ::: :::: :: :::: :: :: :: : : : : : : : : : :: : : :: : : ::: APPEARING IN THIS ISSUE: 1 - Josh Manning 2 - Cow and Chicken 3 - Donovan O'Reilly 4 - Perfectly Perfect Duo 5 - Nerd Power Collective 6 - "All Action" Denny Latimer 7 - "Nuts" Mahoney and Masnoto Tanacho -- DART~! Students 8 - "The Toyko Bad Boy" Ikuto Nagashima 9 - Marime the Mischevious 10 - Joshua Black 11 - Bullzeye 12 - "The Trashman" Tyrone Heat 13 - Ric Beauty 14 - "King of the Cruiserweights" Twinkletoes Twillinger ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 1 - JOSH MANNING ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Nighttime. Josh Manning is on the streets of Pittsburgh, somewhere nearby the DERP Arena, brown hair secured in a ponytail, wearing a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of olive green cargo shorts. Hands on hips, he surveys the area briefly before turning his attention to us.] JM: It begins with a warning. Then people don't heed said warning. People laugh. People continue having a good time. [Manning chuckles.] JM: Well, that's all fine and dandy... because, Delaney, you know what happens next, right? The Goddamn alien invasion. The massive tidal waves that wipes out coastal cities and shatters millions of lives. Meteors will strike down the world's beloved landmarks! The motherfucking Decepticons take over Chicago! [With a charming smile, Manning regains his composure.] JM: The fuckin' Rapture. We are the Believers... and you? Well... "yins" ain't shit... and "yins" are gonna burn where you fucking stand. And speaking of "burning," how are those joints feeling, Mr. Ric Beauty? See, that's the kind of pain a little Icy Hot can't alleviate. No amount of ice packs will make the aches any better, will they? I saw that glazed look in your eyes, Ric. You're probably taking so many different colored pills that it's like looking at a handful of Skittles. Yeah, man, I saw "The Wrestler"... there's nothing Whole Foods about you being in the ring at your age, "kiddo." And here, lemme ask you something: how does it feel, Ric? How does it feel to know that you've come this far... and, still, nobody gives a shit about your accomplishments? ["Kanye shrug." Look it up.] JM: It's alright, though. I'm letting you know right now... that I care. I really do, Ric! That's why I'm going to put you out of your misery this week. Save you the embarrassment of continuing this little tenure in DERP. I mean, come on... I saw that last match you had. Really, Ric? All the years you've been in this business... all the notches you've got on your belt... and you _let_ that happen to you? [Manning shakes his head.] JM: Honestly, Ricardo, I don't know what's more tragic -- the fact that you chose DERP as your last attempt at so-called greatness or the fact that a supposedly wily veteran got put away by one of the oldest tricks in the book. This isn't gonna be some cheesy, pull-at-your-heartstrings Cinderella story for you, Ric. I don't know how you think this is gonna go for you... but, trust me, pal, however you think it's gonna end up, consider the opposite. You're like Bonnie Tyler in "Total Eclipse of the Heart," because all you are is just falling apart... and I'm thinking that by the time I get to you, there ain't gonna be much left for me to _take_ apart. Am I gonna get the Ric from the promos that has a _little_ fight in him? Or am I gonna get the Ric from the house show that got the finger slipped up his ass by the ever-curious girlfriend? I have no clue. There is one thing I _do_ know, though. Whether it's the Elbow or the Red Light Special? You're gonna be takin' one on the chin like a champ and kicked to the curb as if you were on Bang Bus. [Out.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 2 - COW AND CHICKEN ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [We open backstage, either during or following the inaugural DERP House Show. And immediately visible are two, well, "interesting" sights.] [A man. In a chicken costume.] [And a man. In a cow costume.] [Dear god.] DCGM: Moo. [Not you.] DCGM: Sorry. [These two costumed freaks stare at each other. The chicken head staring at the cow head. The cow head staring back at the chicken head. Suddenly, both animals tear their own heads off... oh, if this narrator could only be so lucky. But no, as they tear their own heads off we get an even more revolting sight.] [The chicken, quite obviously the shorter of the two men, removes his chicken head to reveal... another mask. This one also looks like a chicken, but not in the way his mascot-like costume head appeared. Rather, this man's current luchador mask looks as if someone gutted out a live chicken and wrapped it around his head.] [But that actually pales to his larger partner, who removes his mascot-like cow head to reveal... my god, an actual human face! OK, well, a human face surrounded by long, black hair with bleached white spots in it... but at least it's a face.] EPL: Meanie. [Ladies and gentlemen, welcome the new superheroes of DERP, and a team that the Studd brothers are probably quite tired of being irritated by at this point... the world's only corporate-sponsored luchador, El Pollo Loco, and his monster of a partner, none other than the King of the Bovine, the Protector of the Moo, the God of All Things Beef... Da Cow God...] DCGM: Moo. [Yes, he is Da Cow God...] DCGM: Moo. [Sigh. He never gets tired of that. These two demented barnyard sympathizers are the team DERP has apparently decided to build their tag team division around... OK, I can't say that with a straight face. These two sideshow freaks are the team known to some of the world as Cow and Chicken.] DCGM: eet mor chikin. [Da C... er, Moo begins to remove the upper part of his costume, revealing his monstrous tattoo on his right bicep... a grinning cow, standing on his hind legs, decked out in military fatigues and wielding a machine gun. Loco remains in his yellow chicken costume, apparently quite thrilled with the events of earlier in the evening.] EPL: Do ya think we fooled them, Moo? [Moo chuckles lightly, then shakes his head.] DCGM: I don't believe there is any secret who hid beneath these masks, young chicken. [Loco frowns from beneath his horrid mask.] EPL: Awwwww man. I'll come up with something better this week Moo, I promise. So, um, why are we going after those brothers again? DCGM: Because they are pure evil incarnate. They crucified our new boss, Mr. Fucking Delaney, over in Gee-En-Ay-Dubya, then came here to boast about it. Crucifixion is evil enough, but to insult our new boss about it in the promotion he just started is truly dastardly. Mr. Fucking Delaney asked us to be available for this show in case the Studd brothers decided to bring up such history. Besides, I think we would all agree there is unfinished business between our two teams... [Throughout this important declaration of Cow and Chicken's motivation, Loco has been virtually ignoring his partner, raising his arm for a question and hopping around insistently. Moo pauses and looks at his partner, as Loco pulls his other arm over his head to brace his raised hand.] DCGM: Yes? EPL: Um... what does cru-si-died mean? [Da Cow God...] DCGM: Moo. [... shakes his head.] DCGM: Don't worry about that, little one. Allow me to make it more simple. You and I, we have never worn titles around our waists. I know that you want to see gold. And the primary team that will prevent us from that goal are those men. Chicken, do you want to wear a title? [Loco jumps in the air enthusiastically.] EPL: YYYYEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!!! DCGM: Then those men are the evil we must defeat to do so. EPL: And we might get pretty shiny this time? DCGM: Perhaps. [Loco does a backflip. Well, OK... he doesn't quite make it, clearing his head but landing on his chest when he can't quite get the legs around from his enthusiasm.] EPL: Owww... DCGM: Your enthusiasm is refreshing, young chicken. All too often, wrestlers look at a place like Dee-Ee-Ar-Pee as unworthy. A small promotion where they can hardly afford contracts valuable enough to ensure little ones such as yourself the mountains of ice cream they deserve... [Loco frowns as he gets back to his feet, and again raises his hand. Moo holds a finger up to him and continues.] DCGM: But young chicken, it is a place like this where we are most needed. Evil will know no bounds in a promotion such as this, and superheroes such as yourself are needed to combat that evil. [Loco starts to get antsy waiting to ask his question.] DCGM: Fear not, little one... there will still be ice cream. Perhaps not the large amount of ice cream you have received in the past, but there will still be ice cream to reward your good and noble deeds. EPL: Well, OK, I guess... DCGM: There _will_, however, be tables galore for you to fly through. And perhaps there will be gold to be won. The incentives for fighting evil here are not mediocre, young chicken. EPL: But there will still be ice cream? [Moo sighs.] DCGM: Yes, there will still be ice cream. [Loco nods emphatically.] EPL: Then I'm in! DCGM: In a promotion designed for evil to thrive, good must too be offered. Fans must have righteous and noble wrestlers to watch perform, or the evil can seep into their very souls. Young chicken, you and I are needed more here than perhaps we have been in any promotion of which we've ever been a part. Evil will soon know the name of Cow and Chicken. EPL: Moo! [And we fade to black, as these two freaks begin to remove the rest of the idiotic costumes El Pollo Loco decided they should wear for their big DERP debut.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 3 - DONOVAN O'REILLY ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [It's a clear and sunny day in Pittsburgh. Just outside the DERP warehouse, seated atop a shockingly nice custom built Harley Davidson, is one Donovan O'Reily. And although he looks every bit the part of your classic Hell's Angel, the bike's neat and shiny appearance is in stark contrast to the filthy brawler's grooming habits. The colossal mangy beard, greasy hair and ever- expanding beer gut are testament to a life of filth and depravity and wanton abuse. Removing his sunglasses, he looks into the camera and speaks, voice as gruff as ever.] I don't play well with others. Never have. Which is why I was a little taken aback when I peeped the line-up for the next show and saw that I've been booked in... A tag-team match? [His faces crinkles up in a most sour expression and he sounds incredulous, like he can't even fathom the concept.] Yeah, a tag-team match. On one side you've got Denny Latimer's broken arm and a man who goes by the handle of "Trashbag". And on the other? [Heavy sigh.] Myself and Ikuto Nagashima. [Donovan just shakes his head, sweat and grease flying to and fro.] I just gotta ask: What moron booked this? Delaney? Seriously, kid, do you realize that I was kicked off the high school football team for tackling one of my own teammates? During a game? [Chuckle.] Yeah. This poor fucker broke off a kick return and was speeding up the field for six when I decided to take revenge for a harmless locker room prank. Kid never saw me coming and I just wiped him out - BLAMMO! [There's a glint in Donovan's eye as he relives the moment in his mind.] They say he should have played Division 1 college ball, but I broke his goddamn knee in three places and he never fully recovered. But do you think I lost any goddamn sleep over it? HA! You can't even begin to imagine my amusement as the ambulance raced away and his girlfriend bawled her pretty little eyes out. [Snort.] Shit, just last week, while out for a ride with my so-called "brothers", we stop into some dive for a shot and a beer because, well, we're alcoholics and we can't pass up the opportunity. Anyway, this particular joint happened to be occupied by a group of loud-mouthed local toughs looking to make a name for themselves. Naturally, a fight breaks out between the two groups and all hell breaks loose. Now, I live for a good bar room brawl and I'm pretty indiscriminate when it comes to who I'll bust up, so I destroy some poor kid's face with a beer mug and then turn around and jam the business end of a pool cue into my "brother's" wind pipe. [He laughs, clearly proud of himself.] The surviving brothers promptly kicked me out of the gang, but I never went for that solidarity and brotherhood bullshit in the first place. It's for weak- minded pussies who can't handle their own affairs. [Beat.] See, I got respect for nothing and no one. I'm an army of one who takes what he wants and tramples all in his path. I'll drink your beer, fuck your sister and piss in your gas tank without remorse because _each_ and _every_ single one of you maggots disgust me to my very core. Hell, the only guy in this business I ever really got along with was a madman named "Crib Death" Chuck and I think he's dead now. [He pauses. Lights up a cigarette.] Jesus, I'd be tempted to forget about this stupid tag-team battle and just take the night off and drink myself into oblivion at the after party if I didn't hate you turds so much. [Scoff.] Latimer? I already broke your arm and stole your pride but it's not nearly enough for me. I want to taste your tears, motherfucker. I want to break not just your bones, but your spirit. I want to be there when you walk into Delaney's office and explain to him that you just couldn't hack it 'round here. I want to hear you howl "Donovan O'Reily is just too much for me!" as you sign your resignation papers. I won't be satisfied until you're back across the pond, crying into a pint over your myriad failures, ya limey twat. And Tyrone Heat? The "Trashbag"? Your whole "rough urban upbringing" shtick makes me want to choke a kitten. No joke. You open your mouth and all I can think about is wrapping my mitts around the neck of a cuddly newborn and just squeezing the life out of that furry little fucker until his guts squirt out of his eye sockets. For me, a Tyrone Heat diatribe is the verbal equivalent of a Justin Beiber song; atrocious noise that must be snuffed out at any cost. [He pauses. Breathes for a moment.] But that's nothing compared to the utter contempt I have for my so-called tag- team partner... [Donovan's voice adopts a high-pitched, "flamboyant" inflection.] The "Tokyo Bad Boy". [He then switches back to his usual gravelly tone.] We're about thee most mis-matched pairing in the history of this business, Ikuto, and if you're harboring any thoughts about making a run for the tag titles you can just forget it. I mean, I'm sure you think we make a "fabulous" pairing and would love to have me watching your back, but there's two things you need to understand here: One, I ain't sharing a locker room with you. No way, no how. And two, we ain't ever, _ever_ going to be friends. And it's got nothing to do with your lifestyle choices. You can blow whoever you want, homeboy. But at the end of the day, you're bourgeois and I'm a gutter- snipe and gutter-snipes _never_ fraternize with the bourgeois. [Donovan briefly flashes his middle finger.] So, if you're hoping for clear skies and smooth sailing come August the 5th you've got another thing coming. Because I ain't got your best interests at heart, Ikuto. And I don't even care about the outcome of the match. Hell, I wouldn't bat an eye if Denny and Tyrone were to team up and thoroughly thrash your ass... Then again, you probably wouldn't mind that either. [Smirk.] The point I'm trying to make here is this: You keep your fucking hands to yourself and maybe, just maybe, I'll find it in my heart to let you leave this 'ol warehouse with your spleen intact. But cross me just once... [Donovan's voice lowers to a whisper.] And we'll have a date on the nails. [And with that, Donovan promptly fires his Harley up and tears off, the obnoxiously loud motor polluting the air with noise. fade.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 4 - PERFECTLY PERFECT DUO ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [We cut backstage to the crappy DERP locker rooms. What more do you expect? High class? Hardly. It's DERP! Anywho, Max Studd joins his brother Lance Studd in their shitty locker room where Lance is taping up his knees for their upcoming main event brawl. Max has a child's toy in his hand - one of those annoying pull-the-string-it-spins-around-and-educates-you toys. How hilarious that this toy is in regard to teaching children the sounds barnyard animals make. Max, you egocentric dick, you hit the jackpot! Max pulls the string.] Toy: The cow says, "Moooooooooooooo!" [Lance looks up, shooting his brother a look of pure annoyance. Max pulls the string on the toy once more. It proceeds to spin around and ironically enough, it lands on the chicken. The annoying voice inside the toy speaks.] Toy: The chicken goes, "Cluckcluckcluckcluck!" Lance Studd: Jesus Christ. Where did you find that damn thing? Max Studd: Ah, one of those kids that Frank Wilkes was "babysitting" on the last show left it in the lockers. I figure we could have some fun with it. Lance Studd: By breaking it over Cow's head? Max Studd: Or up Chicken's ass. But he'd like that. Lance Studd: Taelor Cole would _love_ that. [Max cringes at the thought of Taelor Cole and the lust he shown he has for Max.] Max Studd: Fag. Lance Studd: Now, now. No name calling. [Ignoring Lance, Max proceeds with the child's toy.] Toy: The goat says, "Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Lance Studd: Shut that fucking thing off. It's time to law down the law in DERP. It's time to get to the main point of why we are even here. Max Studd: Why we are here is simple, brother Lance. Redemption on those who doubt us - and those who oppose the reign of the Perfectly Perfect Alliance. Lance Studd: We crucified the owner of this shit hole, so I'm making a pretty good assumption when I say we are the ones who _own_ this place. Not that hardcore has-been Ryan Delaney. Not those fucking barnyard fags, Cow and Chicken. The Perfectly Perfect Alliance. Max Studd: When any wrestling fans thinks of tag team wrestling, they have to include the PPD. Whether they think we are the world's most hated tag team, or even the world's worst tag team - we are a staple in tag team wrestling. Lance Studd: Nothing new here, Max. I didn't expect it to be a different story in GNAW, let alone this garbage pit of a wrestling league. We should have just went back to Japan. At least they _respected_ us there. Max Studd: [nodding] Respect. All we've ever wanted is a little God damn respect. All we've ever gotten is a bunch of whiny ass bitches sayin' we were running from competition. Thing is, their so called "competition" couldn't handle the PPD. The PPD were too damn good for their leagues - and well, that's just the fuckin' truth. Toy: The duck says, "Quack! Quack! Quack!" [And with that, Max dumps the toy on the concrete floor. He smirks, his brother Lance following suit.] Lance Studd: PPD says, you're dead. Bow to the PPA. [And with that... the size 14 boot goes up and comes crashing down!] "CRACK!" [The toy is smithereens. Dead barnyard animals. The Cow and Chicken, specifically. Out.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 5 - NERD POWER COLLECTIVE ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ VOICE: Down... [Black Screen so far. The only indication that there is a clip playing is the above voice, along with background noise from what might be a television.] VOICE: ...Down-Forward... [Still no visual.] VOICE: ...Forward, and... [Suddenly, the scene finally comes into view, revealing what appears to be a small living area of a hotel room or small apartment. The camera is centered on the form of Player 1. He is shirtless, but wearing athletic shorts and his blue mask. He appears to be in a fighting stance, his ample gut jiggling a tad as P1 throws a hard punch.] P1: ...PUNCH! [P1 throws a stiff punch, but then steps out of his fighting stance. He shakes his head and places his hands on his hips.] P1: *sigh* Two hours now. Two hours! Come on...try it again. [P1 drops down to his knees.] P1: Down... [P1 takes a kneeling step forward now.] P1: ...Down-Forward... [P1 pulls up to his feet, back in his fighting stance, and takes another step forward.] P1: ...forward, and... [P1 throws another stiff punch, just as the smaller form of Player 2 steps into the scene...right in front of P1] P1: ...HADOKEN! [Player 2 lets out a small yelp as his small body flies back, rocked with the power of P1's punch. He falls to his back, legs flying in the air.] P2: OWWWWWWWW! DUDE! WHAT THE HELL!? [P1 gasps in surprise, and rushes over to his fellow player, helping him to his feet.] P1: LITTLE PAL! Oh god! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please, Little Pal! Speak to me! Little Pal? [P1 shakes P2, hoping for a response.] P2: ... [P1 now throws his head up toward the sky, hands thrust upwards.] P1: NOOOOOOOOOOO! CURSE ME! CURSE ME AND MY ANSATSUKEN STYLE!!! [As P1 laments, P2's small hand reaches up to P1's head.] P2: *groans* one...i have something to tell you... [P1 looks down, a happy gasp of surprise bursting out from him] P1: Little Pal! You're ALIVE!!! P2: ...come closer... P1: [Nodding] Yeah, Little Pal. I'm here...try not to talk...we'll get you help, man... P2: ...closer... [Player 1 leans in close to Player 2, when suddenly...] P1: OWWWWWWW! CURSES! [Player 2 just HEADBUTTS P1 as hard as he possibly can. P1 stands up sharply, holding his nose.] P1: What was that for, bro! P2: [Sitting up now] what? YOU PUNCHED ME, YOU STUPID FUCK! YOU STARTED IT! P1: No! We can't fight like this! What would our master think, if he saw us squabbling amongst ourselves now? Can't we just shake hands and go back to being friends? P2: okay. so...what were you doing anyway? P1: Well, we have a rematch against those guys, right? P2: yes. tanacho and baloney. we're fighting them again. P1: Right! Well, we won't be able to beat them, unless we work on a secret weapon. Something they'll never expect...the Hadoken! P2: ....really? a hadoken...? P1: Well, I've already worked on my three hit combos today! The Hadoken will really give us the edge we're looking for! They're never going to see this coming! P2: ...seriously... P1: Yeah! P2: ...and you really think it'll work... P1: Of course! Think about it: They rush in like before, expecting to just drain all our HP like last time with those chairs, and then...WHAM! [P2 flinches as P1 yells.] P1: We hit them with the Hadoken! They don't know what hit him, and that will also give us time to set up our Super Combo! P2: [Head tilts curiously.] ...hmm...oh well...what do we have to lose? P1: That's the spirit, Little Pal! Now come on, we have to work! [Now, both Players drop down to their knees.] BOTH: Down... [Both take a kneeling step forward.] BOTH: ...Down-Forward... [The scene begins to fade out as they step forward into their fighting stance.] BOTH: ...Forward, and... [Black screen again, as...] BOTH: ...HADOKEN! *CRASH!* P2: ...owww..... P1: LITTLE PAL! YOU HADOKENED RIGHT THROUGH THE TV! YOU'RE AWESOME! ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 6 - "ALL ACTION" DENNY LATIMER ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ (Fade in on what looks like a covered area in the DERP offices somewhere. Cheap backdrop with the DERP logo printed on a curtain over a wall, some odds and ends at the sides of the shot, boom mic slightly visible at the top of the camera lens. Standing in the middle of it all, looking like he’s barely slept in a week is "All Action" Denny Latimer. He’s wearing a DERP t-shirt, has one hand in a dirty white cast and the other one clenching a tin of non-name brand beer. He’s gulping from it as he starts to speak.) DL: You know what words I want put on my tombstone? The words I want carved into that beautiful white marble when this sport and these tins finally catch up with me? "Denny Latimer: He Was Fallible." Because I am. I make mistakes. Fuck me, do I ever make mistakes. When it’s time to shut up, I talk. When the rent money’s tight, I’m off down the bookies. When the traffic light’s red, I put my foot down. When I could have come to America and made easy money working nice, relaxing matches at county fairs in front of a crowd of people who couldn’t care less, I drag my arse down to Pennsylvania and hang out with a bunch of whackjobs in front of a crowd of die hards. And when It’s a really, really stupid idea to punch a chair with my fist at full strength, I get to clobbering. I make mistakes. (Finishes tin, throws it to one side) DL: You know who else is fallible? You know who else makes mistakes. Donovan O’Reilly. He made a big mistake recently, a proper blooper. He didn’t finish me off. He beat me, but he didn’t finish me off. He left me able to walk out of that ring. He left me able to get to the hospital, biting into my other fist because my hand was in so much fucking agony. He left me able to stew in doctors’ surgeries all week, thinking about that loss. He left me able to make it to a rematch. And that’s a mistake, Don. That’s a proper boo boo. Because, Don, me and you we’re similar, right? We’re fighters. Different countries, different backgrounds, you’ve clearly eaten more deserts than I ever will, but we’re similar characters. We’re fighters, we fight, we live our lives as a constant battle. We’re like... did you ever see those old fashioned cuckoo clocks? When the clock struck one, this little wooden figure would pop out. Mr Sunshine. And he’d be chased around the clock by Mr Winter or whatever, Mr Winter would be carrying a hammer or some shit. And they’d run around the clock and go back in. And then two o’clock would strike, and it’d be the other way round, Mr Sunshine with the hammer and Mr Winter would be fucking shitting himself. And that’s me and you, Don. And you fucked up your first chance at smacking me with that hammer. And it’s up to me to make sure you don’t get a third one. (Smiles to himself. Thrusts his cast hand into the camera so it’s center of shot.) DL: You know how many bones are in the human hand? 27. You know how many I broke fighting you, Hobo Brazil? 22. That means that I have five intact bones left. Just five intact bones to smack upside your potato-shaped head every opportunity I get. Five bones to punch you directly in your gut. Five bones to jab into your throat and make you throw up the last 40oz you guzzled. I’m in this cast for months, Donovan. I have no idea what it’s gonna look like when it comes out, whether I’m gonna be able to have a chug ever again. And I need to take that aggression out. So this cast is going upside your head. You know who else is getting this cast upside their head? That Japanese lad. This Delaney character obviously fancies himself as a bit of a comedian, bit of a funnyman, all this "Beauty and the Beast" style tag-team he’s made for himself here. Nagashima: O’Reilly, I can respect. That’s an athlete I can compete against, an athlete I can understand where he’s coming from. You? I’m not sure about you at all. You look like you’re more concerned with unclogging your pores and getting excited that espadrilles are coming back than you do with wrestling. So if I have to slap you about, if I have to add a new beauty mark to your face with my size 10s, then that’s what I have to do. This is a sport, son, it ain’t a pony show where you trot about and show your exciting new outfit to a legion of shrieking 13-year-olds. This is a sport where you get broken down bit by bit then get shouted out by an audience of men who want blood if you don’t provide it. This is the Roman Colosseum, not Milan Fashion Week. (Pulls the hand back to his side, purses his lips thinking of something clever to say to end his promo) DL: So Tyrone Heat: you come with me. You get your trash can, your boom box, your doo rags and whatever. We get in that ring together, we slap Vagrant and Flagrant around it for 10 minutes, we get a win and then I can finally claw some dignity back in DERP. Because, really, if you ain’t got dignity, what have you got? Nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing. (Looks off camera with a "You got that?" look. Hearing some murmered approval he walks out of shot slowly. Fade to black) ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 7 - "NUTS" BALONEY AND MASNOTO TANACHO ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Fade In. Simple DERP backdrop, with the DART~! students standing in front of it. "Nuts" Baloney looks all riled up, as Tanacho stands just beside him, arms across his chest, looking as angry as Chinese Mexican can.] NB: Really? _REALLY_ Nerd Power Collective? Your gunna demand a rematch, with _US_? You actually volunteering to put yourself back inside the ring with us, the craziest DART~! students around? [Shakes head.] NB: I knew yins were jokes the minute I laid eyes on you! No one with adesire to _LAST_ in this biz'ness would subscribe themselves to such violence _TWO_ weeks in a row! But it's fine, N-P-C... IF you want to try to become some sort of matyrs... IF you want to baptized in blood, and stretched out of the arena... I'll be _HAPPY_ to help you accomplish yer dreams. [Nods.] NB: You two are a _JOKE_. A _LAUGHING STOCK_! You make the entire DERP roster look more pathetic each time your open your stupid little mouths! It _ANNOYS_ me that you can sit there and call yourself a member of the DERP roster when Delaney wont' hand me my damn papers! It has got me _ALLLLLLL_ riled up! And I'm gunna be using you two for my anger managment! [Evil smile.] NB: See in the ring, nerds! I can't wait to dent this chair over your fucking heads! ["Nuts" makes a threatening lunge at the cmaera man, almost causing the cameraman to trip as the scene fades.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 8 - "THE TOYKO BAD BOY" IKUTO NAGASHIMA ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Fade in.] [The scene opens at Pittsburgh ’s own P. Town bar. It’s night and the music is blasting while some of the town’s finest male strippers shake what their mamas gave them. Seated at a lone table, among the excited throng, is a very surly "Tokyo Bad Boy" Ikuto Nagashima. He’s clad in a black and white, pin tuck shirt and gold pants. He also wears a pair of platform boots, his neck littered with gold chains and a small bandage on his forehead. Normally, he’d be enjoying the show but there’s a disinterested scowl etched on his handsome features as he tosses a look to the camera.] Ikuto: I should be sitting here, champagne glass in one hand, stripper ass in the other. But I can’t even bring myself to enjoy any of this, because some decrepit _bitch_ decided to ruin my night! [A look of disgust moves across his face.] Ikuto: Do you see this!?! [He angrily points a finger at the bandage.] Ikuto: Not only is Ric Beauty responsible for helping mess with my pretty, but that bastard cheated me out of my win too! There’s no way that mute freak should have beaten me tonight. In fact, just after I’d eliminated Beauty’s old ass, Marime was next. Everyone could see it. But Beauty was so fucking jealous that he had to come out and mess everything up for me! [He leans back and shakes his head, folding his arms across his chest.] Ikuto: That’s the problem with these has-beens. Instead of bowing out gracefully and getting the Hell out of Dodge, they stick around in a profession that is quite clearly done with them and fuck things up for those that are bigger and better! I know your type exactly, Beauty. You see this handsome face and chiseled physique and it burns you up inside. You see a constant reminder that this sport has passed you by and your glory days are long gone. It’d actually be sad if it wasn’t so pathetic. Unfortunately, you’ve fucked with the wrong man. Because I’m not going to just lay down, close my eyes, and take it. At least not for free. So, you can guarantee that this isn’t over. And, when I get done with you, retirement will look like heaven. [He grabs a nearby glass and downs it.] Ikuto: Unfortunately, I won’t get to face him, as soon as I’d like, because I’ll be stuck in some sort of tag match at this next show. [He makes a face.] Ikuto: This doesn't excite me. To be honest with you, if their last names aren’t "Beauty" then I really don’t give a damn about any of them right now, including my tag partner. Lucky for this O’Reily, I don’t plan on walking out of this show with a second loss to my name. So, all he has to do is stand on the apron, stay at least semi-coherent, and let me do the hard work. [He shrugs and gives a dismissive wave of his hand.] Ikuto: I’ve carried worse. Besides, it’s not like I'm up against anything particularly challenging. I mean, a street urchin and a British relic? [He sniffs, turning up his nose.] Ikuto: Please. They are insignificant to me. And it will take nothing to leave them buried. Neither has the style, finesse, or flash to hang with a wrestler like me. And once I’m done with that particular trash, I can deal with more important matters, like making life Hell for the man who fucked me over without so much as a kiss on the cheek! [Fade.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 9 - MARIME THE MISCHEVIOUS ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Marime the Mischevious is dressed in elaborate gold, purple, red, white and turquoise outfit with delicate embroidered details and sparking brass buttons. His head is down and a spotlight shines upon him.] A toy maker once sat in his hovel, longing for company. The toy maker decided to create his life's work: a clockwork boy! [Marime does not move despite his voice doing acrobatics.] Toiling for days at a time, with nary a bite to eat nor a wink of sleep, our little toy maker's all consuming quest for a companion ate away at his health, soul and sanity. No, no, the gears! The gears, they are not right!" he would shout. "The cheeks need more rouge! The hair is all wrong!" he would complain. [Suddenly the spotlight dies... and a merry-go-round lights up, right behind Marime - illuminating the jester.] Caught up in his quest, the toy maker's health and reputation sank. Further and further down the spirial he danced until, one fateful day, his master work was finished. Excited, he shambled into town, holding his still nude creation in his hands. Look here, look here, he yelled. Aloft, he held, the creation. The citizens sneered. The townspeople gasp. What sort of madness did this man have and why is a child in his grasp. They took his arms and wrenched away his child. A stone flew towards his head, another at his spine. That day the toy maker learned the world will not understand, what lusts can and will drive a man. [Marime has yet to move. His slumping posture stands in stark contrast to the moving lights of the merry-go-round behind him and his beautiful finery.] Victims, it seems, respond in one way or two. They either go within or lash out, finding a path that suits their needs. Will a man slighted be delighted to find a storyteller at his side or will his face twist and contort, with anger at his entertaining cohort? Can a man who's been compressed and compacted be counted on in times of distress so dour? Our last tale is one with more questions than a great man who faced the cat that lay in the desert sun, enjoying the memories of a civilization that had just begun its glory. [More lights rise up and Marime begins to stir. His face is white with blue hamsa's painted over his eyes. His mouth does not move as he speaks.] The growl and glow of an engine. The huff and hooves of a bull. Zed, zee oh me, dearie, what a chore it must be using letters in such atrocious spelling! Your eye may be a dead and your aim could be true but I believe the first grade is where you should land when we're through! I know nothing of you, but we are to dance in some silly, fatal four way. I do not have a story to charm you with, just some advice - watch your back and front too. Because I plan on harming you. With fists and kicks and a jump here or there. [A long finger goes to his temple and Marime pantomimes a thinking gesture. His lips are, as always, dead still.] But what is it I seek? A smile, a smile is all I want. To see those on your faces, to erase your sullen doubt. Hooray! Today is the day Marime has come out to play! [Every thing goes black.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 10 - JOSHUA BLACK ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Scene fades in on a big black backdrop, with the letters DERP boldly printed in yellow lettering. The camera pans slowly starts to pan out and we see Joshua Black standing in front of the backdrop.. his shoulder-length bright blonde hair is neatly tied back, and a pair of black Ray Bans cover his eyes. A bright yellow long-sleeved shirt can be seen as well, and that's where the camera stops. He runs his hand over his smoothly shaved chin, then looks into the camera.] JB: What happened against the man properly titled as "The Trashman" was a travesty. What happened in that match, was absurd.. And, what happened in that match is EXACTLY why I chose to come to this company! What you saw in there was a man who had to resort to the use of any object he could find just in order to pick up a victory against me. He resorted to literally throwing me in a god damn trash can, just to find a way to win. You know why that is? Because he knew the same thing that you all know.. he can't wrestle.. especially not well enough to beat a world class athlete like me. [Joshua takes off the sunglasses, and his piercing blue eyes glare into the camera.] JB: Companies like DERP, are embarassments to this fucking business! They promote this insane violence.. this, culture of "I'm the better man because I can pick up this chair and crack you over the skull harder than the other guy can." IT'S NOT WRESTLING! I AM A PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER!! [Joshua puts his glasses back on, then runs his hand over the top of his hair.] JB: And I'm here, to prove to each and every one of you "Trashmen" types.. that at the end of the day, regardless of what you may think after that last match, that in the end.. the purity of wrestling will always prevail. [A big smile comes across his face.] JB: This time around.. while facing Wilkes, a demented clown, and.. Bullzeye, is it? They'll learn the truth... anyone can pick up some debris and swing it around like a madman.. but, greatness stands before you in the form of Joshua Black... and, there's only ONE Joshua Black. [Scene fades out.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 11 - BULLZEYE ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [ Fade in. ] [ It is very dimly lit as the camera fades in. In front of you is the DERP red flaming logo on a black backdrop. A man suddenly walks into the frame. This man seems to permanently be glaring a hole through the camera. His red hair is a mess and is almost completely in front of his face. The medium sized man looks like he hasn't shaven in a couple of days and his red beard is starting to come in. The man pushes the hair out of his face as the camera zooms in on his face. By the looks of it this man looks to completely out there. The man finally begins to speak ... ] Delaney's Extreme Rasslin' Promotion also known as DERP!!! Finally a place I can call home. A place where I feel my actions will not be looked down upon rather they will applauded. A place where lighting someone on fire and then dropping him on his skull onto a bunch of thumbtacks will not get you life but rather give you the freedom that we all deserve ... [ A very sinister smile comes across his face as he continues to speak ... ] Who am I? My name is Bullzeye. And I am the most ruthless unforgiving being on the planet. I am a human cancer. [ The camera pans out a bit to give you a glimpse of what this man is wearing. He has on a black t-shirt on with what seems to be a white bullseye on it. The shirt looks like it has seen better days as the bullseye seems to have faded a lot and you start to wonder if it just a figure of your imagination. ] The reason why I am the most dangerous man in this sport is because I enjoy pain. I would take three punches to give one. I would take three chair shots to give one. I would go through three tables to put someone through just one that is on fire. [ Bullzeye leans up against the DERP logo behind him as he continues to speak ... ] I have no misconception about who or what I am. Psychology I am damaged goods ... Socially I am a misfit ... And the more I think about it the more I realize that those are actually benefits. Not disadvantages because psychologically I can manipulate my opponents. I can get inside their heads and fuck with them. I can turn and push or press buttons. And make them think what I want to. And I can HURT people. You see I have no CONSCIENCE! I have no REMORSE. So I don't have any problem hurting someone. I will do whatever it takes to do what needs to be done. [ Bullzeye is now in a crouching position as he brushes the hair out of his eyes as he continues to speak... ] Which leads me to my first match in DERP a Fatal Fourway Falls Count Anywhere Match against "RSO" Frank Wilkes, Joshua Black and Marime The Mischevious. [ A short pause ... ] Frank Wilkes ... A Registered Sex Offender, the man without a face. You have been in thousand of federations and yet you are still considered by many to be in the middle of the pack. Frank, it seems to me like you are not comfortable in your own skin. Are you ashamed of your past? I say why not embrace it! You see Frank that is why you will never reach your full potiental it is because you are afraid. Afraid of what else might leak out of your closet. Afraid that you might like it! Frank as long as you stay with in the center of the packet you will always be a bland mid-carder. Joshua Black ... A man who thinks extremely highly of himself. A man, who like myself, will even cheat to win. Some say he is the best wrestling purist in this business today. Joshua last time I checked this wasn't wrestling school and you are not graded by how well you can perform a suplex. This is Ryan Delaney's creation which means you better expect to be bleed, break bones and feel pain. You see Joshua you might be alot like myself but you have shown a weakness. Your weakness is your HEART!!! You see I don't have to hurt you by inflicting pain on you. No ... No ... No ... That is what your pretty little high school sweetheart is for. We will see how far you will go if it means sacrificing the love of your life. What is more important to you Joshua ... winning a match or your wife, Heather, in one piece? Marime the Mischevious ... you are a little out of your element here. While you might embrace the extreme part you are not really built to be by yourself. You are better off with your partner by your side. Maybe that is your security blanket. Maybe you need that partner because you were abandoned at a circus. When people see you they think you are a joke ... A CLOWN!!! But that is what you want them to think right? You want them to underestimate you. You want them to let their guard down and that is when you are at your best. That is when you truly embody your inner clown. That is when the fun all begins for you. You might like to inflict pain ... wear silly clown make-up to the ring ... and your pain tolerance is extremely high but you will not ruin the fun I have planned for you on August 5th. I will get the last laugh Marime ... [ Bullzeye reaches into his pocket and pulls out a dart. He starts looking at the dart very carefully as he continues to speak ... ] Sometimes in life we make our own choices ... Sometimes a choice is made for us ... And sometimes there is NO choice ... [ Bullzeye then throws the dart towards the camera direction. The dart smashes the camera lens as it looks like Bullzeye hit his mark as the camera imagine is all distorted now. ] [ Fade to black. ] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 12 - "THE TRASHMAN" TYRONE HEAT ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Scene: external view of Delaney's Personal Warehouse, home of the DERP. It's dusk, "magic hour" if you will, and a lone figure stands in front of the boxy structure. Reverse mohawk, dark skin, perpetual scowl and a white A-shirt that reads "Time to take out the trash!" on the front. It's Tyrone Heat, AKA "The Trashman", fresh off his first win in DERP.] TH: What you think of this, huh? Ain't nothin' like fightin' in a box to get you back to your roots. The Warehouse, it's like the gym of a high school or somethin'. No frills. Just competition. And that's just the way I like it. [Tyrone's head cocks back and he curls his lip in remembrance.] TH: Last week, that punk Josh Black, he thought he could pull the wool over people's eyes. Man hates hardcore, toutin' the rules that people should follow. Maybe he'd do better if this way a high school gym. Maybe he wants to wrestle for points. Too damned bad that here is where we fight! I agreed to do his thing but he opened the door to a new world filled with only pain. The only escape for him? Gettin' tossed out with the rest of the garbage. This week ... the fight continues. [Looking around himself, squinting, Heat tries to be as serious as is normal but a slim smile creeps across his face.] TH: This week is a tag team war; two man teams, goin' fuckin' nuts all over each other and doin' shit that makes people doubt if we're sane. I got an ugly old hobo and some import from across the ocean thinkin' they can avoid a trip to the dump. On my side ... a guy that's all action. Denny Latimer is a guy I can trust. He's bad, bad as me, and he never gives up. You have _got_ to respect the fight he put up against O'Reily last week. Took a whoopin', kept goin', got a busted wing and he's right back this week. The man can go! I don't care that he didn't come out on top against the ugly old hobo. That don't matter. What matters is that he's gonna take another whack at him; prove it was a fluke. Me, I'm gonna coach him, make him understand that when there ain't no rules to follow you gotta do what works. It ain't enough to be tough. You got to win by any means necessary. [Heat looks back towards the warehouse.] TH: And the hobo himself. I ain't gonna undersell the man. He's ugly, he's nasty and he'll take a bite out of ya if you ain't careful. I respect his ability but his attitude could use some work. Out of the two, I think he's gonna be the challenge for me ... which makes him the first guy I make a beeline for. Don... [Back to the camera.] TH: You're goin' for a ride, son! Then there's Ikuto Nagashima. The "Tokyo Bad Boy". Another punk waitin' to be choked. Oh sure, you got skills my friend but you got no idea what kind of pain I got in store for you. My man Denny and me are gonna paint the ring red with your guts, son, and there ain't nothin' you can do about it. Come August the Fifth ... Hell. Will. Rain! [Cut to black.] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 13 - RIC BEAUTY ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ [Ric Beauty stands in front of an abandoned building, in it's glory days it was a steel mill. It build the steel that built the world, but now it is a target for rocks from passerby punks, a place for animals to call home. Ric smiles as he gazes up at the building] RIC BEAUTY: A relic. [shakes his head] That is what Ikuto Nagashima called me. ME! [Ric looks whistfully at the building] Sure I am probably the oldest guy here in DERP. And I'll bet I have the most miles on this engine. [Ric turns back to the camera] But I can't say I won on the first DERP show, now can I? So maybe time has passed me by, maybe, just maybe it is time to hang up the boots. [Ric seems conflicted, as if he is now considering retiring] This has been a long road, and here I stand at another beginning. Another start, another climb up another mountain. [Ric shakes his head and mumbles] Wow, how many cliches did I work in there? Geez! Maybe it is time. If I am going to let a guy like Nagashima get in my head, maybe it is time to pull a Delaney and get out of the ring! Naaa... [Ric shakes it off, and returns his attention to the camera] So Josh Manning, call me a relic, call me an old timer, call me old news. Tell us all how you are the next great thing. But you are going to have to prove it. You are still going to have to walk down the aisle and get into the ring with this "old man". [Ric looks back to the broken windows on the building] And this old man still knows a thing, I still know how to win. And win I am going to do. You see, I am here to show the world that I still got it. And Josh if you think that car accident in your past was bad, wait until after you dance with me. You are going to pray for a pain that simple. Josh, I am out to prove something and you are going to be the first one I prove it to. You are going to be my first convert. Josh Manning will evangelize the locker room, he will tell the others that Ric Beauty is one RELIC you don't want to mess with. Call your dealer Josh, you are going to need some relief from the pain. [Ric starts to walk toward the building, he stops and looks over his shoulder] And Nagashima... I will see you soon enough. [fade on a broken window] ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 14 - TWINKLETOES TWILLINGER ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ (The Scene fades is a black and white setting. In the cameras view is what looks to be a small room with gray concrete walls and matching floors. A single uncovered light bulb hangs from the ceiling providing small amounts of light to the room. This room is empty save for one man in the corner of this room. This man is a rather large man, resembling more of a giant scrotum with feet than a man. He sports no hair on his head but is practically covered in fur everywhere else. This man is the fattest man you will ever see on two feet. He has rolls between his rolls barely and beneath all the belly flab is just the slightest hint of a pair of neon green and neon pink wrestling trunks underneath. This man has a kennels worth of bulldog jowls and is sporting a quintuple chin, at the least. This man wears a sad expression as he stares off into space, but then looks up into the camera, and begins to speak Large Man: When you look at me, what do you see? Do you see someone who looks like you? Do you see someone who looks like what you want to look like? Do you see a flawed man, or do you see someone that disgusts you. Sadly i know you see someone that you don't want to be. (Large Man looks to the sky breathes in and exhales before turning back to the camera) Large Man: Everywhere I go is an unwelcome place for me. Everyone I see, is not happy to see me. I'm greeted with looks of shock and disgust while behind me I'm serenaded with the whispers of people talking behind my back as they point and gawk and then finish with barely controlled laughter. Its been like this all my life, since I was a kid I've suffered from the ignorance of others. Every night I would pray to God. I'd tell him I'm a good person, Ice never hurt anyone what did i do to deserve this? And every night my prayers would go unanswered and i would think even God hates me, that's why this happened. (Large Man rubs his eyes as he apparently has something in it) Large Man: And every time i look in the mirror, I'm forced to see what others see, what others find so funny and i tell myself. What did I do to be so.....damn.........skinny! (spit-take of colossal proportions!) Large Man: I never asked to be thinner than everyone else or in better shape. I'm slim trim and a ladies man, but find myself a target of jealous men who only wish they looked so good. I'm berated by envious women who don't think they're good enough to have my arm around them. The curse of physical perfection, it was a cross i could hardly bare. Surely i thought there must be a place for someone as god like as me, where my mythical physique could be best put to use. And I found that place, it was professional wrestling. (The Large man waddles err steps out of the corner and stands underneath the light bulb, the light casting shadows over the folds of his physique) ' Large Man: Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Karl Joseph "Twinkletoes" Tiwilliger, but you can call me Twinkletoes, or Twinky or simply, The King of The Cruiser-weights..I'm coming to your wrestling promotion to do two things, to dazzle wrestling fans with my mastery of aerial wrestling maneuvers, and to stand up for little guys like me everywhere. We shouldn't be ashamed of being tiny anymore, stand with me and we will put all those fat slobs in their place! Join with in my crusade as i make myself the flag bearer for the Twinkle-toed Nation and fight for the honor of each and everyone of my little Twinkies. Come see me in the ring and watch as the Ultimate Underdog, and Greatest Show Above Earth takes on all comers, no matter how mean, nasty, or heavyset they happen to be. I will fight for you and show not only that your greatest hero but that i am pound for pound the greatest wrestler in the world today. Remember the name Twinkletoes Tiwilliger and that while my opponents may have so called size and strength on their side, I have all of you. TWINKIE POWER!!!! (Twinkletoes flexes his "muscles", if large pieces of fat hanging from his arms like a throw rug draped over a clothesline qualify as muscles.) (Fade to Black.) ______________________________________________________ THOUGHTS? REACTIONS? SPEAK YOUR MIND RIGHT HERE: http://z13.invisionfree.com/DERP_Forum/index.php?showforum=4