“Welcome back to the FU Center in Philadelphia! I’m your host Jim Ross here with Morty the Weasel! We have a real slobber-knocker of a main event for you tonight!”
“That’s right, JR – we have Stan Lee and Alan Greenspan, one fall to a finish, no disqualifications, no countouts, locked inside a steel cage. This might just be the biggest night in the history of our sport.”
“And yet, this was not our original main event.”
“That’s right, JR – we were first slated to match Cesar Milan and Tom Colicchio, but that was called off when there was a misunderstanding about Korean cuisine night on Top Chef. Then we scheduled Derek Jeter against Ted Allen.”
“Jeter went right up against Allen, all right, but not in a way we can show you even here on pay-per-view. So now we bring you our main event – And here come the competitors! First, the challenger, Stan Lee, being borne out on a litter carried by six pasty comic-store owners. Lee fighting in the ritual costume of his people, with the black jean shorts and the army surplus trenchcoat.”
“Don’t like seeing the knobby knees on our challenger, JR.”
“No indeed. And now the champion, Alan Greenspan, his golden throne being rolled into the arena while his attendants throw handfuls of cash into the crowd.”
“Hard to believe you could find that many topless virgins here in Philly, JR.”
“For a man with that kind of power and wealth, all things are possible. And now the locking of the cage, and our match is underway! Stan Lee circling warily from a distance, doesn’t want to show his hand too soon…Alan Greenspan with that sockful of quarters, a devastating weapon, and he lashes out but Lee dodges…well, the man who created Mr. Fantastic should know a thing or two about slippery dodges – and here he comes back with a burst of web fluid to the eyes of Greenspan!”
“Don’t know if that’s web fluid, JR.”
“Greenspan disoriented, unsure of where he is. He’s as crazy as a pet raccoon out there.”
“Being married to somebody from NBC News, some of the stupid was bound to rub off eventually, JR.”
“Greenspan is up now, making a move – and he increases the prime interest rate by a quarter percent! Stan Lee is trapped, unable to move, the inflationary pressure has him pinned in place…and Greenspan drops the rate by a half percent and the flood of easy money buries Lee under a pile of cheap commercial paper!”
“Don’t see how he’s going to dig out of that, JR. Looks like Greenspan will keep the belt for anoth–”
“My God! Stan Lee is hulking up! He is actually turning green! His jean shorts are ripping! My God! This is unbelievable!”
“He’s finding the range now, he’s out of the pile of bonds and stalking Greenspan…Greenspan going for a sack of money, but it’s all dollars! The depreciation has rendered it weightless!”
“And business is about to pick up! Greenspan running like a scalded dog, but Stan Lee unleashes those mighty green fists and beats the former Fed chairman like a government mule!”
And now Stan Lee is climbing the cage! He’s setting up his move, JR!”
“And Greenspan looking up – and it’s the Excelsior! Stan Lee has hit the Excelsior on Alan Greenspan and he is down! The ref runs in to count it…one, two, two and a half, two and three quarters, there’s a correction, two and one eighth, one and a half–”
“Greenspan’s bought the ref, JR!”
“And Stan Lee holds up one fist–”
SNIKT!
“THE CLAWS! MY GOD, HE’S POPPED THE CLAWS! AND GREENSPAN IS DEAD! STAN LEE HAS DECAPITATED ALAN GREENSPAN! MY GOD! WHAT A FINISH! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!”
“Punctured my eardrum there, JR.”
*grinning ear to ear*
You need Vicodin more often. That was fabulous.
Yay! This was the grudge match I’d been hoping for as soon as the words “Alan Greenspan” left my lips. **does wonkish/geekish happy dance**