Wrestling Rules

My friend Chris had a dream and that dream was to attend a professional wrestling match. So, last night, being the incredibly responsible student that I am, I blew off my fiction workshop, and what I'm sure was a scintillating discussion of Joyce Carol Oates, for an evening of WWE Monday Night Raw. Now, I knew nothing about wrestling before I went other than, of course, that wrestling events are staged. I spent most of the first part of the evening listening to my friend Josh give the sexual position counterpart to every wrestling move (i.e. the wheelbarrow ). (Incidentally, this also gave a whole new meaning to the crowd's chant to stand there and take it as well as Annie's comment that she'd been there before. ) I also tried to figure out how they did the sound effects and contemplated why so many grown men would want to wear speedos in public.(On another side note, the similarities between wrestling and porn were made all the more blatant later in the evening when a clip was shown of all the wrestlers doing a parody of Basic Instinct. At one point, Triple H, as I believe he's known, asked the female wrestler if she had ever done mixed tag team, if she was into girl on girl, and if she liked sado-masochism. And, oh yes, there were children there...) Anyways, after about an hour I had to find a hot dog, more nachos, and beer. Apparently, while I was away, they brought out the Muslim character - Muhammad Hassan. He was the only wrestler with a manager accompanying him, as we all know Muslims only travel in small, conspiratorial groups. And before they brought him out, my friend Amelia says that they showed pictures of the White House, the Pentagon, and the Statue of Liberty. I only know that I reentered the arena to a USA chant and kids with signs that said, Muhammad Hassan - You Stole My Tablecloth. The evil Muslim then proceeded to body slam what I assume must have been a proud American in a unitard. And all of this was, of course - yes, you guessed it - the lead-in to the singing of the national anthem by a woman in knee high boots, a denim mini-skirt, and a backless top. Wow, what a place to be. The evening only got better from there when a wrestler known as the legend killer came out, made out with someone named Tracy, and then proceeded to drop kick her to demonstrate how ruthless he was going to be against the undertaker. While a team of faux paramedics came into the ring to clear away the unconscious, and, at first, supposedly dead, Tracy. Annie, Amelia, and I decided that we needed to go home. Fake domestic violence is usually our cue to leave.