It's the Lapsed Fan Wrestling Podcast with Jack and Carnasco and JP Sorrow.
We've got an exciting Christmas program lined up for these folks.
We've been to a little boys that year.
I don't know. It's an artificial tree, so I did artificial job at trimming time.
This is only exceeded by our inability to.
Adjust follow the third rangling here the Lapsed Fan.
Got a price for the million dollar man. Even Santa Claus and so no say.
It's not so.
Start off, and I believe this is fine. This is the third and final story.
Is that right?
Boss?
I think so.
Third and final story. And if you could uh do us the honors? Read until the first line of dial there, Miss Sorrow, Oh that means interior. You don't have to read that.
Yet, Jack JP Podcast Studio of Night. The room is dimly lit, adorned with Christmas lights. A chatter of sorry, a cluver of the unwrapped gifts, sits scattered across the table. There's a sense of excitement and uneasiness hanging in the air.
All right, let's kick this off. We have our fans. What of our fans sent us this year? JP JP size already dreading what's inside, He tears open the box, revealing a life sized cardboard cutout of Jerry the King Lawla. The cutout grins menacingly. JP's face contorts into a mix of horror and rage. He freezes, Oh, man, what's wrong, It's just a cardboard cutout, dude. JP's eyes dart around the room, clearly in shock.
It's him, it's him, Jack.
He starts muttering under his breath, repeating over and over. Jack looks concerned. Standing up, he approaches JP cautiously. JP. Okay, man, step snap out of it. Suddenly the family feud theme begins, playing, as if out of nowhere to hear it? But you upbeat melody cuts through the tension. Jack blinks in confusion, What what the hell? Who's playing that? JP doesn't respond, His gaze is locked on the cutout, unblinking JP no doubt, no doubt, his eyes wide, and JP, are you with me?
Can you hear me? JP tills his head, his expression blank, his voice now lifeless, responds again only in soundboard clips, tit tips or tis?
JP?
Please stop it. JP's voice continues, detached, just if he's not even there? You're what the hell is happening? What's going on in your head?
Wrestling fans have been tricked again.
Jack is pacing now, eyes wide and panic, trying to make sense of this nightmare. Please, JP, come on, you gotta snap out of it. Jack clutches his head in frustration, nearly hyperventilating. JP snapped the hell out of it, Savio. Suddenly, the Family Feud music starts to loop again, longer, louder, until it feels like it's filling every corner of the room. The ghostly laugh of John Spencer begins to echo through his studio. Jack mccoyols, his body trembling. Can anybody help us?
What the hell is this? Just then, the Family Feud being cuts out abruptly, the room grows colder. A shadow looms in the doorway. Jack squints through the dim light. A figure steps forward, Vince McMahon. The room goes silent. Jack's heart skips a beat. Vince Vince walks into the room, confidently, his presence overwhelming my little surprises on the trick. Jack stumbles back, confused and terrified. Vince, what is this? Can you help him? Vince smile widens sinister.
Help? No, Jack, I didn't come here to help. I came here to settle things. For years, you've been exposing the truth about me and my company, the company that was stolen from me, and now it's time for you to pay the price.
Jack's breathing quickens. What are you talking about? You sent him that cutout?
Oh yes, that's the least of what I've done. But here's the deal. I'll snap your friend out of it on one condition.
Jack swallows hard, desperate, What do you want, Vince. Vince's grin turns cold, calculating.
You'll use a lapse fan to sing my praises. You'll rally your audience to support me. I'll be back in charge of WWE, and you'll lead the charge.
Jack's face pales. You want me to do what you earned me. Vince steps forward, his smile darkening.
You get Jack back, You get JP back to normal, and I get what's rightfully mine.
Jack's eyes flicker toward JP, who remains unresponsive. Jack's mind races, Please, Vince, just help him. He's not well. Vince looks at JP with a mix of disgust and amusement. He reaches out and grabs Jack's hand, squeezing it tightly. Due Jack as Vince script titens. Jack's hand burns like fire. He gasps in pain, his body convulsing under the heat. Okay, okay, deal. Vince let's out a low chuckle, letting go of Jack's hand.
Jack clutches it, breathing heavily, still reeling from the steering pain. Vince's eyes flicker toward JP.
Don to wake up.
Without hesitation, Vince slaps JP across the face hard. The sound echoes. JP gasps his eyes fly open, blinking wildly.
What the hell happened?
Vince leans over him, grinning menacingly.
Let's just say your college podcast is about to become the worldwide leader in sports entertainment.
Jack and JP exchange terrified glances were screwed. Vince's laugh fills the room. It's dark, triumphant, you bet you are. Vince continues to laugh. Jack and JP sit in sun stilence, realizing that their lives and their podcast are about to change forever. Thanks Cliff, that's wild fucking hilarious. There is a succeeding.
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