Harrys: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!
Amaranth by Nightwish hits and smoke starts to rise from the entrance. When it clears, Chris Jones is shown standing there, as though he appeared from nowhere.
Harrys: First, from Hamilton, Ontario, Canada and weighing in at 227 pounds, Chris Jones!
Jones poses on the turnbuckles and takes off his overcoat as Sound of Madness hits and John Smith appears on stage. He begins walking to the ring with little reaction from the crowd.
Harrys: And his opponent, from London, England and weighing in at 250 pounds, John Sm
As soon as Smith enters the ring, Jones starts the attack. Forearms and knees take down the big Brit. He follows this up with a running knee drop. Smith begins to try and get back to his feet, but Jones hits him with a running leg-drop bulldog as Smith just makes it back to his knees. Jones picks up Smith, and drops him with The Lifesaver! Jones almost goes for the cover, but instead goes to the top and hits a huge moonsault! 1
2
3!
Harrys: The winner of this match, Chris Jones!
Copeland: Wow, clearly Jones wasnt being paid by the hour for that one.
As he finishes saying that, Falling On by Finger 11 begins to play and the General Manager of Meltdown, Chuck Myles, makes his way to the ring with a mic in hand.
Cohen: Shut up, Seabass. The boss is here!
Myles enters the ring and begins chuckling as he watches Smith fighting to get back onto his feet.
Myles: So
John Smith
is that what youre going by? Well, Mister Smith, I can see right through the B.S. No parent, not even a damn, dirty Brit would name their kid John Smith. So, we did some research. And when I say research, I mean we kept an eye on you when you took that drug test.
Fear races through the eyes of Smith as Myles laughs again until he starts speaking again.
Myles: You know what we found out when you took that test, John? That you arent really John Smith at all. I wish I could tell you the name was clever, but I dont like to lie. You arent even a man, Anita. Thats right, ladies and gentlemen, this pathetic excuse for a wrestler is a woman named Anita Dick. So, Anita, get the hell out of my ring, and the hell out of this company. We don't have Vixens around here! YOURE FIRED!!!!!!
The crowd goes crazy heckling the former John Smith as she walks out the arena trying to hide herself from the crowd under her arms, and a new song comes over the speakers:
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