An open letter to IQ (Tag Teams, Sabu, Rock)
Posted by: Deadly Weapons on 01/05/2003 at 15:25
The scene is in the locker room of the Deadly Weapons. Brock Lesnar is shuffling around and flexing in the mirror as usual and Ernest "The Cat" Miller is biting his lip while contemplating writing a letter.
"Alright Brock, nobody answered our challenges last week. That japanese foo', and the Legion of Viagra didn't want none of us. But I'm a little surprised that monkey boy Sabu didn't wanna a piece of me, because he's crazier than Rosie O' Donnell at dinner time. Hell, Sabu would probably bite Mike Tyson's ear off."
Brock flexes his shoulders.
"Well you're probably right....he ain't stupid enough to go against me. But if he is, I'm challenging him again this week. You and RVD could never be as good as me and the whole F'in show. But it doesn't matter, ya'll could never beat Deadly Weapons. Even though we haven't fought a match yet, we're already the most feared team in the FTR. That's why I've gotta write this letter Brock."
Brock looks puzzled at Miller's suggestion.
"Aw come on, you gotta know what I'm talking about. You see, I've gotta write a letter to IQ warning him about this tag team tournament. He doesn't need to have it. They don't call us Deadly Weapons for nothing....if they have this tag tournament with us in it, then there won't be an FTR. Everyone will be in the hospital, because my fists are gonna be flying upside their damn heads. And I know IQ wants to keep the FTR around, so I'm gonna write him a letter asking him to cancel the tournament, and to go ahead and give us the belts. That way those rednecks who pay my salary can come out and watch Stone Cold Steve Austin or The Rock come out there and talk whenever I feel like resting."
Brock flexes his shoulders and grunts.
"Yeah, I know that The Rock is a hollywood prima-donna and that his acting is almost as bad as his wrestling. But, it doesn't matter. He wouldn't even think about talking shit to you, much less fighting you."
Brock shuffles his feet and wrings out his arms.
"That's right boy. Now it's time to go watch some football. Michael Vick's gonna whoop all their asses."
