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9/14-PCW Extreme Political TV

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Taped Tuesday Night at the former ECW Arena South Philadelphia, PA Saturday September 14th, 2024

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave AGE: 50 / HT: 5’ 11” WT: 195 HOME: Philadelphia, PA HAIR: Brown / STYLE: Like Ronnie Dunn / FACE: Goatee DRESS: Brown suit without tie

Colleen Crowder of ‘That Big New York Newspaper that Pushes Narrative as News’ AGE: 38 / HT: 5’ 5” WT: 142 HOME: New York City, NY HAIR: Black / STYLE: Curly / FACE: Narrow face with rounded jaw, turned-up nose, faint freckles, and thin lips. Bulging blue eyes, thin eyebrows. DRESS: Black pants suit

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland (Since 2/10/2024) PCW Women’s Champion: TBD PCW World Television Champion: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism (Since 3/3/2024)

Opening The air inside the 2300 Arena was electric, a surging sea of raucous energy as fans chanted “PCW! PCW! PCW!” with the ferocity of a political rally on steroids. In the eye of this storm stood ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave, microphone in hand, his sharp suit somehow both an armor against and a beacon for the chaos around him.

Beside him, Colleen Crowder’s expression held all the enthusiasm of someone who’d just been handed a tax audit notice. Suave’s voice rode the cresting wave of chants, cutting through with practiced ease.

Johnny Suave: “Welcome to PCW’s Extreme Political TV! We’ve got a huge main event tonight!”

Colleen’s nose wrinkling at the relentless “PCW” chants as if they were offending her journalistic sensibilities.

Colleen Crowder: “Ugh, could they be any more tribalist?”

Johnny Suave: “They do it everytime. Deal with it, Colleen. Tonight, we have the first in-ring face-off between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris!”

The crowd erupted anew, a maelstrom of anticipation for the clash of titans. But amidst the noise, Colleen couldn’t resist tilting the scales verbally.

Colleen Crowder: “Well, clearly Kamala Harris has the poise to outmaneuver Trump.”

Johnny Suave: “But she doesn’t have the poise to sit for interviews with our backstage interviewer?”

Colleen Crowder: “She sat for CNN.”

Johnny Suave: “It was taped. And cut to just eighteen minutes. Back to our main event, I wonder just how fair our special guest referees from ABC will call it tonight? Remember when Trump faced off against Biden with CNN refs? They called it straight down the middle.”

Colleen Crowder: “I’m positive ABC will do the right thing.”

The confidence in her voice betrayed no doubt about ABC’s ability to moderate the match.

Colleen Crowder: “They are impartial journalists, you know.”

Suave chuckled, a glint in his eyes.

Johnny Suave: “That would explain the 90% favorable coverage ABC gives to Harris versus less than 10% for Trump. “

Colleen’s retort was sharp, her smile thinning.

Colleen Crowder: “Are you suggesting bias, Johnny?”

Johnny Suave: “Wouldn’t dream of it, Colleen.”

His voice dripped with sarcasm that could fill the arena twice over.

Johnny Suave: “Just stating facts.”

The electric charge in the 2300 Arena intensified as Dawn McGill’s theme blared through the speakers, her silhouette emerging to a mix of cheers and wolf whistles. The titan-tron flickered with the more modest selections from her Henhouse Magazine shoot, adding sizzle to her entrance.

Colleen Crowder: No. Why does she have to come out?

Johnny Suave: It’s her company?

Towering at six feet, she strode down the aisle with a businesslike swagger, a walking contradiction—entrepreneurial spirit wrapped in the sultry trappings of her magazine spread.

Dawn McGill: “Welcome back to PCW’s Extreme Political TV!”

Dawn’s voice cut through the din, her eyes scanning the crowd.

Dawn McGill: “We are just under two months from Extreme Election Night 2024!”

From their broadcast perch, Colleen Crowder’s lips curled into a practiced smirk.

Colleen Crowder: “I see Dawn’s still riding that magazine fame.”

Dawn lifted the microphone once more.

Dawn McGill: “Tonight, we’ve got a meeting of minds with two of the social media giants- please welcome X’s very own Elon Musk and Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg!”

Musk sauntered out first, his gait casual, almost dismissive of the circus around him. Zuckerberg followed, his demeanor more reserved, calculated.

Colleen couldn’t resist a dig at Musk, her voice dripping disdain.

Colleen Crowder: “Oh look, it’s the ‘Technoking’ himself. How quaint.”

Johnny Suave: “Keep your friends close, and your tech moguls closer.”

The two billionaires slipped between the ropes and into the ring.

Dawn McGill: First off, Elon. Thank you for fighting for the first amendment. Without you, PCW would not be on the air right now.

Elon Musk: You’re quite welcome.

Musk turned to Zuckerberg.

Elon Musk: I believe Mark Zuckerberg also has something to say.

Zuckerberg, microphone in hand, confessed to a hushed arena.

Mark Zuckerberg: “I want to apologize for allowing the Biden Administration to pressure us into censoring certain posts.”

The audience’s reaction was immediate- a unified chorus of boos echoing off the walls, a tidal wave of disapproval.

Mark Zuckerberg: That was a mistake. We should not have done that.

Colleen wasted no time pivoting.

Colleen Crowder: “No one cares about that. Let’s talk about Trump’s recent debacle at Arlington National Cemetery. That’s the story and narrative we’re pursuing!”

Zuckerberg’s apology hung in the air, tentative and fragile, until the earth-shaking riff shook through the former ECW Arena.

Johnny Suave: “HOLY CRAP! IT’S THE EXTREME EQUALIZER WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT!

Colleen Crowder: “Oh no. Not him.”

Him is the colossus known as the ‘Extreme Equalizer’ Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

WTF stomped his way to the ring, a behemoth moving with purpose. The crowd erupted, chanting: “PCW! PCW! PCW!”

Without ceremony, WTF rolled under the bottom rope, rising to his full imposing height. He locked eyes with Zuckerberg before his massive hand clamped around the tech mogul’s throat. With a heave, he lifted and then slammed Zuckerberg down with a seismic choke-slam that sent shockwaves through the mat—and the audience into a frenzy.

Crowd: “PCW! PCW! PCW! PCW!…”

Johnny Suave: “Extreme justice served, courtesy of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot!”

Colleen’s protests were drowned out by the jubilant cries of the PCW faithful.

The scene closed with Zuckerberg flat on the canvas, Dawn standing tall next to Elon Musk, and the ‘Extreme Equalizer’ raising a fist to the sky—the perfect snapshot of pandemonium and power plays, the essence of PCW’s extreme political theater.

***

BACKSTAGE: The Progressive Alliance’s Dressing Room The fluorescent lights of the Progressive Alliance’s dressing room flickered, casting an eerie glow over the congregation gathered within. Professor McCarthy, flanked by his devout followers — The Green World Order, Legion of Anti-Fascists aka LOAF, Codee Pink, and Emily S. List — held aloft his ‘good book’ extolling progressive values and things that are politically correct to do. His voice dripped with self-righteousness.

Professor McCarthy: “Friends, the winds of change are upon us. The illustrious Neal Conn… –making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order… and his cadre of strategic masterminds have seen the light. They endorse Kamala Harris to lead PCW into a new era!”

The room erupted in a cacophony of cheers and applause, as the flock reveled in their newfound alliance with power brokers from a previous age. They exchanged knowing glances, their ambitions now seemingly validated by the support of Dick Cheney, Mitt Romney, and the others who once dictated the geopolitical chessboard.

Colleen Crowder: Hallelujah. They’ve finally seen the light!

Johnny Suave adjusted his headset, a wry smile playing on his lips.

Johnny Suave: “Well, folks, when Neal Conn says Donald Trump is dangerous… I suspect it’s because Trump is dangerous to their power and influence and their bottom line! The neo-con wing is throwing a temper tantrum because they’ve been benched while Trump pitches to the center field.”

Colleen Crowder’s nostrils flared as she retorted, her voice laced with a mix of self-satisfaction and thinly-veiled annoyance.

Colleen Crowder: “Oh please, Suave. Neal Conn is finally speaking some sense for once. Trump is a dangerous threat to this country!”

Suave couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction, leaning in closer to his co-host.

Johnny Suave: “But I remember not too long ago when you were bashing Neal Conn and his 200 cronies, calling them warmongers and extremists. My, my, how times have changed, Colleen.”

With an eye roll, Colleen shot back.

Colleen Crowder: “I’m allowed to change my mind, Suave. It’s called growth. Unlike some people I know.”

Johnny Suave grinned back at her taunt.

Colleen Crowder: “But seriously, let’s talk about Taylor Swift endorsing Kamala Harris.”

Johnny Suave interjected, determined to make his point heard.

Johnny Suave: “And she also encouraged people to do their own research and make their own decisions. Some people actually took her advice and ended up supporting Trump instead.”

Colleen raised her voice slightly, emphasizing her disagreement.

Colleen Crowder: “That’s not the narrative we’re pushing though!”

Johnny Suave countered confidently.

Johnny Suave: “Well, while Harris has Taylor Swift on her side, Trump has strong support from Nicole Shanahan and Tulsi Gabbard. I think he got the better end of that deal.”

Colleen was about to explode when the scene cut away…

Attorneys at Law Felcher and Felcher Commercial The television screen flickered to life, revealing a chaotic scene of a peaceful suburban neighborhood being torn apart by a man slipping on not one, but two banana peels. The poor victim flailed wildly as he fell, his expensive designer suit ripped to shreds and his once-perfect hair now matted with dirt and debris.

Suddenly, the words “Felcher and Felcher – Your Legal Saviors!” blazed across the screen in garish neon colors, like a carnival gone wrong. A booming voice filled the room, dripping with fake empathy and concern.

Announcer Guy: “Have you or a loved one been the victim of slippery produce?”

The announcer’s voice was laced with faux sympathy.

Announcer Guy: “Don’t just fume in frustration, take legal action!”

In strutted the notorious duo of Felcher and Felcher, sporting even sharper suits that seemed to emit an aura of power and greed. Each brandished a comically oversized gavel, wielding it like a weapon as they marched through their outrageously lavish office.

M. Felcher: “Here at Felcher and Felcher….

M. Felcher sat smugly behind his mahogany desk with a majestic view of the city skyline.

M. Felcher: “…we are attorneys for all the people and believe in justice for all. No matter how trivial or ridiculous your complaint may seem, we will find someone to blame and make them pay!”

R. Felcher: “Did your neighbor’s cat cough up a hairball on your lawn?”

The other Felcher, his perfectly groomed eyebrows raised in mock outrage as he stood next to his really expensive private jet.

R. Felcher: “That’s property damage and someone should pay! Cha-ching!”

M. Felcher: “Accidentally bumped into someone on the sidewalk?��

M. Felcher’s smirk seemed almost sinister as he lounged in his luxury penthouse suite.

M. Felcher: “Clearly their fault for not wearing proper padding!”

M. and R. Felcher: “Call us now!”

They exclaimed in unison, pointing directly at the camera from their exclusive VIP seats at a sold-out concert.

M. and R. Felcher: “And we’ll fight tooth and nail to shift the blame onto anyone but you!”

A catchy jingle blared, a twisted parody of patriotism disguised as a commercial jingle:

“Felcher and Felcher – because when life gives you lemons, someone else should pay for your lemonade!”

The obligatory fast-talking disclaimer at the end rushed by, barely audible over the obnoxious roar of their private yacht’s engines:

Fast-Talking Disclaimer Guy: “Preferably large corporations and insurance companies with deep pockets!”

MATCH #1-NON-TITLE: PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell vs. The Millenial Man The air in the 2300 Arena was thick with anticipation as “The Lone Star” Charlie Blackwell, the reigning PCW Champion, squared off against The Millennial Man. Johnny Suave’s voice boomed through the arena, a mixture of excitement and incredulity in his tone.

Johnny Suave: “And here we go, folks! It’s experience versus entitlement in a clash for the ages!”

Blackwell towered over his opponent, muscles coiled and eyes focused. From the opening bell, he brought a relentless assault. A devastating clothesline sent The Millennial Man sprawling across the canvas, his face contorted in shock at the sheer power of the Texan.

Johnny Suave: “Charlie Blackwell is not holding back. He is all business tonight!”

The champion hoisted his opponent up, only to slam him back down with a resounding thud.

Colleen Crowder: “Can’t he be a little gentler?”

Colleen’s voice crackled with exasperation from the commentator’s table, her bias clear as day.

Colleen Crowder: “It’s like he doesn’t care about The Millennial Man’s feelings at all!”

In the ring, The Millennial Man whined to the referee, pleading for some leniency.

The Millennial Man: “He’s being so mean!”

Blackwell was having none of it. Locking in the Cobra Clutch, he wrenched back, the hold synched tightly. The crowd roared their approval.

Colleen Crowder: “Make him stop, Ref! This is just brutal!”

Colleen stood up from her seat in indignation.

As if sensing the climax, Blackwell transitioned smoothly into the Katajahime, his grip vice-like and unyielding. The Millennial Man flailed helplessly before tapping out frantically, conceding defeat.

Johnny Suave: “And that will do it! Charlie Blackwell is undeniably dominant tonight!”

After the match reached its climactic end, Charlie Blackwell emerged victorious, sweat dripping down his face as he held the PCW Championship high in the air.

Ring Announcer: Your winner… PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell!

The fans erupted into chants of “PCW! PCW! PCW!”

Charlie Blackwell Promo The roar of the crowd was deafening as Blackwell took a moment to catch his breath before snatching a microphone from ringside.

Charlie Blackwell: “I’ve been in this business for fifteen grueling years. Just like all of you… I’ve worked my ass off and know that every single time I get knocked down, I get right back up!”

His words were met with cheers and applause from the audience, who knew all too well the sacrifices Blackwell had made to achieve this moment. But just as he was about to continue, the lights in the arena suddenly dimmed and a new figure appeared at the entrance ramp.

It was the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior, a self-proclaimed champion for progress and equality. He strode confidently to the ring with a microphone in hand, ready to challenge Blackwell’s victory.

Ultimate Social Justice Warrior: “Charlie Blackwell, you don’t deserve that belt!”

His voice dripped with disdain and disgusted.

Ultimate Social Justice Warrior: “It was handed to you by the powers that be, while true champions are overlooked.”

Blackwell’s expression hardened as he faced off against his opponent.

Charlie Blackwell: “If you want this title, you better be ready to fight for it.”

But instead of accepting the challenge, the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior smirked and shook his head as Professor McCarthy walked out on stage.

Professor McCarthy: “Charlie Blackwell!”

McCarthy hoisted his ‘good book that spells out what’s politically correct and incorrect to think, say, and believe’ fervently up with both hands shaking.

Professor McCarthy: “There is only two person in PCW who have the moral compass to hold the PCW championship—the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior!”

His voice echoed off the turnbuckles, reaching every corner of the crowd.

Professor McCarthy: “Believe what we tell you to believe, say what we want you to say, do what we tell you to do, and conform to everything in this good book… or else we will all shout you down!”

The tense standoff between the polar opposites on both sides ended with Blackwell standing tall in the ring, the embodiment of an old-school warrior unbroken in a world of new-age battles. His championship may have been hard-won, but it meant everything to him and he refused to let anyone take it away without a fight.

State of California Commercial California Governor Gavin Newsom appeared on screen with the Golden Gate Bridge outside of San Francisco in the background.

Flashback to 2020 where Newsom dined out with some ‘friends’ inside a swanky restaurant without a mask on while normal Californians were subjected to strict guidelines against large gatherings and ‘staying home.’

Gavin Newsom: “Joe Biden. Kamala Harris. It’s time to bring PCW to California.”

Johnny Suave: “Dawn McGill is on record as stating that as long as she’s the owner, PCW will never set foot in California.”

Gavin Newsom: “Kamala. When you win at November’s PCW Extreme Election Night 2024 and become the new PCW CEO, don’t forget that California is open for business!”

In the background, an endless parade of moving trucks pass by… headed out of California.

Gavin Newsom: “Forget holding PCW shows in rednecky Red State bars out in the middle of Nowheresville USA… California is the place PCW should be. California as the home of Silicon Valley, Hollywood, the Pacific Coast, Disneyworld-“

Johnny Suave: “Stores closing. Employees laid off. Crap on the sidewalks… literally.”

Gavin Newsom: “And-“

Johnny Suave: “Choking regulations driving business out of the state.”

Several moving trucks honk as they drive past towards the Arizona border.

Johnny Suave: “An average California home costs two–and–a–half times the average national home price and the average monthly rent is 50 percent higher than the rest of the country.

Behind Newsom, Elon Musk looked at him with disgust. Then he hopped on a moving truck and moved his company out of California to Texas.

Gavin Newsom: “With all that, it’s no wonder that California is the place to be. So come to California, PCW. And, oh, make sure you bring your checkbook…”

Suddenly, the electricity goes out and the restaurant is left in total darkness.

Gavin Newsom: “…so you too can live the California dream!”

Backstage in Dawn McGill’s Office In the backstage office of Dawn McGill, the walls were adorned with her iconic photo spread from Henhouse Magazine. They were adorned with glossy images captured her in alluring poses that left little to the imagination. In one, she reclined on a plush velvet couch, her legs crossed seductively and a coy smile on her lips. In another, she stood tall and confident, dressed only in a leather jacket and straddling a sleek motorcycle.

Dawn sat on the edge of her seat, eagerly anticipating the start of the main event. But before she could even press play on her remote, her assistant flung open the door and barreled towards her, out of breath and clearly frazzled.

Assistant: “Dawn, there’s a major problem!”

Dawn already felt her excitement begin to dissipate.

Dawn McGill: “What is it?”

The assistant panted heavily.

Assistant: “Someone has set up a dog and cat food stand in the blue section of the arena.”

Dawn’s hand slapped her forehead.

Her patience in dealing with the unticketed people the Progressive Alliance demanded back in February be allowed into the arena was one thing. In response, she had told the Progressive Alliance the unticketed people could sit in their section. The unticketed individuals then flooded into the blue seats, climbing over others, blocking their view, and causing chaos.

Now… this.

Dawn McGill: “Oh great. I’ll call security and put a stop to this immediately.”

She grabbed her phone and started dialing security.

Assistant: “I’ll come with you.”

Her assistant followed closely behind as Dawn stormed out of her office.

PCW Women’s Title The arena was buzzing with excitement as Johnny Suave, the charismatic announcer, hyped up the upcoming four-way match for the PCW Women’s Championship.

Johnny Suave: “Ladies and gentlemen, next week PCW will crown a new Women’s Champion. We have four outstanding competitors vying for the title: representing the American Patriots, we have the sharpshooting Laura Brobert. From the Progressive Alliance, we have Kathryn Randall Collins, known for her ruthless tactics in the ring. ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith, an agile powerhouse from the American Heartland Coalition. And last but not least, a surprise entrant…the rookie sensation from Iowa, Catherine Cline!”

As soon as Catherine’s name was mentioned, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. She had quickly become a fan favorite with her lightning-fast moves and impressive agility in the ring. But not everyone was on board with her rise to fame.

Colleen Crowder spoke up with a stern scowl on her face.

Colleen Crowder “Let’s not forget about seniority here. Kathryn Randall Collins has been in this business for years. It’s only fair that she should come out on top.”

The video screen came on and there was Catherine Cline herself.

Catherine Cline: “I understand the importance of respecting those who came before me,” she stated firmly, “but I didn’t claw my way up through blood, sweat, and tears just to wait my turn. I’m here to win that championship.”

Johnny Suave: “Who will come out on top? Who will be the next PCW Women’s Champion? You’ll have to tune in next week to find out!”

The audience roared even louder, eagerly anticipating the epic showdown between these four competitors.

Johnny Suave: It’s time for our main event.

MAIN EVENT: Donald Trump (American Patriots) vs. Kamala Harris (Progressive Alliance) with Special Referees David Muir and Kinsey Davis of ABC News The arena pulses with anticipation, the air thick with expectation as Kamala Harris’s theme erupts through the speakers. She strides confidently down the ramp, her eyes fixed on the ring that has become a battleground of ideology and ego. The audience reacts with a mix of cheers and jeers, but she is unfazed; every step is a statement, each stride exuding the poise of a seasoned political combatant.

Johnny Suave: “Kamala making her way to the ring, Colleen, and you can see she’s ready for this unprecedented matchup.”

Johnny Suave’s voice booms over the crowd’s clamor, his tone betraying no allegiance.

Colleen Crowder: “Absolutely, Johnny.”

Colleen’s bias was thinly veiled.

Colleen Crowder: “She’s been preparing for this moment, and I’m confident she’ll uphold the values of the Progressive Alliance.”

Before the echoes of Harris’s entrance fade, the familiar brassy strains of the Imperial March meld into a rhythmic chant that shakes the very foundations of the 2300 Arena. “TRUMP! TRUMP! TRUMP!” The crowd’s fervor reaches a fever pitch as Donald Trump emerges, his supporters’ voices transforming the melody into an anthem of unwavering support: “TRUMP. TRUMP. TRUMP. TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMMMMP TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMMMMP.”

Johnny Suave: “Listen to this crowd, Colleen! You can feel the electricity here tonight!”

Suave has to shout to be barely heard above the din.

Trump descends the ramp like a king surveying his domain, his expression one of unassailable confidence. He climbs into the ring, his presence alone commanding attention as he surveys the crowd, basking in the adulation of his base.

Johnny Suave: “Both competitors are now in the ring, and here come our special guest referees, ABC’s David Muir and Kinsey Davis.”

The two figures slip between the ropes, impartiality promised in their professional nods to each competitor.

Colleen Crowder: “Remember, Johnny, they’re here to ensure fairness.”

Muir and Davis lay out the ground rules, their voices firm despite the uproar surrounding them. They call for respect, for sportsmanship, the principles of the match echoing the grander theater of political discourse. With a final check, the bell rings, and the battle commences.

From the outset, Harris is tentative, gauging her opponent with careful moves, testing the waters of this high-stakes confrontation. Trump, however, is all aggression—a force of nature unleashed. Quick to seize the advantage, he corners Harris, his tactics as brash and unapologetic as his campaign rallies.

Johnny Suave: “Trump’s not holding back, taking the fight straight to Harris!”

The action unfolding with rapid intensity.

Johnny “Wait, what’s this?”

Suave’s tone shifts as steel-folding chairs find their way into Harris’s hands, the tools of political wrangling turned literal instruments of combat.

Colleen Crowder: “Johnny, I think Muir and Davis are offering some… ‘strategic advice’ to Harris.”

The referees’ subtle positioning and gestures seemingly favoring one side of the ideological divide.

Johnny Suave: “Sure they are.”

Suave’s sarcastic tone encapsulating the charged atmosphere as Harris begins to rally, utilizing the openings provided by the attentive referees.

The crowd’s roar swells within the 2300 Arena as Kamala Harris, with a sly grin, delivers a verbal jab that seems to pierce through Donald Trump’s brash exterior. The former President circles her like a shark, his face flushed red, not from any physical blow, but from the sting of Harris’s cunning words.

Johnny Suave: “Trump’s looking rattled out there, Colleen!”

Colleen Crowder: “Johnny, Kamala Harris is doing very well tonight.”

Trump, now with a renewed fire, charges at Harris, but as he gains momentum, ABC’s David Muir and Kinsey Davis both step in, ostensibly to check on Harris, halting Trump’s advance.

The American Patriots’ section erupts in a chorus of boos, outraged by the audacious interference.

Johnny Suave: “Come on! That’s the third time they’ve done that ! It’s three against one in there!”

Colleen Crowder: “Johnny, they’re just doing their job and calling it right down the middle.”

Colleen’s tone was laced with condescension.

Johnny Suave: “Right down the middle my ass!”

Within the ring, Trump regains control. His movements are relentless, his attacks precise. Yet, Muir and Davis insert themselves once again, this time more overtly than before, shielding Harris from Trump.

Johnny Suave: “Oh come on! How can you say this isn’t three on one!”

Colleen Crowder: “Absolutely not, they’re ensuring a fair match.”

Before another word could be uttered, the arena’s atmosphere shifts and the crowd pops.

Johnny Suave: “What’s this?”

PCW owner Dawn McGill makes her entrance.

Johnny Suave: “HOLY CRAP! DAWN McGILL IS COMING TO THE RING!’

Dawn stormed down the ramp with a fury that matches the intensity of the crowd’s excitement. She’s businesslike but her presence commands attention, much like in her Henhouse Magazine photo shoot.

Crowd: “PCW! PCW! PCW!”

Dawn slides into the ring with the grace of a seasoned pro, snatching the mic from Muir’s hand.

Dawn McGill: “What the *BLEEP* is this?”

Her gaze pierced through both referees.

Dawn McGill: “I’m calling for the bell!”

Johnny Suave: “WOW!”

Colleen Crowder: “Johnny this is outrageous!”

Johnny Suave: Dawn McGill has called for the bell and ended the match because of the poor refereeing.

Colleen protested vehemently.

Colleen Crowder: “She has no right to interfere in this match! Muir and Davis were doing their jobs-“

Suave glanced at Colleen, incredulous.

Johnny Suave: “Interfere? Are you kidding me? Where have you been all match long? She’s restoring order where these so-called impartial referees failed!”

Colleen Crowder: “My fact check says you are one hundred percent wrong.”

Johnny Suave: ‘And you know where you can stick your…”

Johnny did the air quotes thing with his hands.

Johnny Suave: “…’fact-checking.’ All right folks, that’s going to do it for this week. We will be back next week with the four-way match for the PCW Women’s Title. See you then!”

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