Lethal Injection V
20 Jun 2012
The Oil Palace, Tyler, Texas (seats 8,300)

Introduction

There is no electric chair, there is no hallway into a lethal injection room. There is only darkness. The masked man has been revealed, and we have moved on. You lick the hot wing sauce off of your fat fucking fingers as you find the Lethal injection stream on DeathRowWrestling.com, then you click it.

Yea you do, you fat fuck.

Buffering. Instead of feeding your pudgy face in your momma's basement, maybe you should get off your ass, get a job, and get some real internet. Of course, that wont matter soon if Death Row moves to a television network, does it?

Of course, that is to be seen.

The stream plays...

3...

2...

1...

WELCOME TO DEATH ROW.

As we fade up from darkness the screams of thousands can be heard. A panoramic shot of the jam packed Oil Palace in Tyler, Texas fills the screen. Backwood rednecks sure like their wrestling and they show it with the intensity in the air.

Of course, their hometown hero FJ Tombs will be in action.

That's enough to make any cousin fucker happy in the pants. We get shots of signs in the crowd.

HOW > DRW

#Hashtag

FJ is My Baby Daddy!

Maynard Crane is My Hero

Finally, the camera lowers and sets upon our host for the evening, and every evening. Our amazing commentary team, Waylon Wolf and Tommy Ace, sit obviously excited to have work.

Wolf: Welcome everyone to Death Row Wrestling's Lethal injection five, live from Tyler, Texas in the world famous Oil Palace! I'm Waylon Wolf, and along with me as every show is the one and only...

Ace: TOMMY ACE! Woo! Baby it's good to be back in Texas!

Wolf: Oh yea? You like Texas Tommy?

Ace: Hell no! But I sure as hell like this corn fed heifer who brings me enchiladas every time I call a show here, followed up by some post-show pu...

Wolf: We get it Tommy, you like fat women.

Ace: Cushion for the pushin' Waylon!

Wolf: We have some good matches for you tonight, including a special main event brought to us live via satellite from Huntsville, Texas straight out of the state penitentiary.

Ace: I wonder if anyone is going to drop the soap.

Wolf: I'd advise against it. Of course, maybe the biggest news tonight, Tim Ross addresses the future of Death Row Wrestling! Will he take the unknown potential investor's money, or will he go with Lee Best and join Best Studios?!

Ace: I think he just needs to get in line for government cheese and keep it how it is. Death Row is gritty and dangerous. Who wants to conform to the standard when we can become the standard?

Wolf: I think growth is natural and progression is needed.

Ace: Tomato, Potato.

Wolf: That makes no sense.

Ace: Neither does the fact we are still talking when we have so much action tonight!

Wolf: You have a point there... it's time ladies and gentlemen, for LETHAL INJECTION!

A Beautiful Entrance

The double doors to the back entrance of the arena burst open in the most dramatic fashion, all that’s missing is the solo spotlight and a fog machine…

Wait, what’s this? Fog suddenly begins to creep into the halls from the open doors as a lone figure walks through the fog, shoulders back, chest out, arrogance oozing out of every pore when he suddenly breaks out into a hacking cough.

???: Damn it, I told you, less fog!

Coughing and waving his hand frantically in front of his head in an attempt to clear the creeping fog, the figure turns and looks around the hall. Seeing a pair of large black guys standing off the side, the figure casually toss them an object that gleams in the light as it sails into one of their waiting hands.

???: Find a nice spot for me, near the front, will ya.

Confusion turns to surprise, which then turns into glee, as the pair, known as the H-Town Hustlas, rush past the new arrival and out into the parking lot, keys to a new Ford Mustang in hand. The figure, removing his sun glasses, flashes a brilliant smile towards the cameras as he continues to walk down the hall.

???: My nigger, what’s up!?

Tim Ross turns around at the unexpected voice, shock, confusion, and budding anger quickly show on his face as he sizes up the unknown arrival.

Ross: Excuse me motha fucka, what you just say to me?

???: What? Did I say it wrong, my nigger?

Ross: I don’t know who you talking to like that nigga, I ain’t no man’s nigger, especially no white bred faggot like you…

???: Wait, I’m confused, I’ve been watching the show and that’s how everyone seems to greet each other around these parts. So don’t get your panties in a wad, my nigger, please.

Ross: Say my nigger one more time! I mean it, say my nigger one more time nigga! I swear, I’ll drop you 6 feet into the ground right here, right now! Go ahead nigga, say it!

???: Perhaps we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Here, Let me introduce myself, as if you don’t already know, but I’m “Beautiful” Bobby Dean and I’m pretty famous. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?

Not waiting for the still confused Tim Ross to answer, Bobby Dean steam rolls right on through.

Dean: Of course you have, like I said, I’m pretty popular. You know, the “Name that Entertains,” or perhaps, the “Moist Maker?” Anyway, I’m finally here.

Ross: Finally here? Whatcha talking about?

Dean: Well, like I said, I’ve been watching the shows and I got to admit, you guys need a name with some actual drawing power. I mean sure you got cVc and CCJ but they’re no BBD. There is only one “Beautiful” Bobby Dean, and now you’ve got him.

Ross: Motha fucka, don’t you know, we don’t need you around these parts, playa.

Dean: I’m sorry, I’m having such a difficult time understanding you. So, how about we just go ahead and assume you’ve accepted my gracious offer to lower my standards by working in these slums for you, and you’ll just go ahead and give me the shot at the title I so rightfully deserve. K, thnx, bye.

With that said, the man known as BBD, smiles, nods his head, and turns walking away from the confused Tim Ross. Putting his sunglasses back on his face, BBD walks out into the darkness of the parking lot, looking for his car.

Dean: Wait, where’s my car!? Where are those two Valet drivers!?

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