Your Key to the Authors
MH: Marcel Hillie. Does not host a TV Show.
DR: Dean Rasmussen. Does not love on all the girliez in DC that swarm on his junk.

BACKSTORY
MH: A Wrestling Road Trip Weekend up and down the East Coast before Christmas. Cool. Things start off on Friday as I try to see who’s actually coming to Richmond on Saturday. Rippa blows off the trip for whatever reason, and Tom decides to not return my calls anymore. Ah, devil take the both of ‘em. I watch ScumUnited/Middlesbrough, Arsenal/West Ham and Inter/Chievo, then set sail for Richmond.

DR: I step out to the Corner Market with five dollars in my hand, telling my wife that I’m gonna buy beer. I walk two blocks and the math equation begins. I also have 80 cents in change to go with my allotted Christmas Budget booze allotment. I planned on Confederate Mack swinging by but we got up with him at the Showplace later. But with him in mind, I opt to go for copious quantity without losing miserably in the taste department- getting a six of the pedestrian but perfectly fine American Swill That Is Miller Highlife. I also notice that I can get a 40 DOG (as we said in the Run-DMC days of early twenties mid-80s malt liquor drunkiness) of CAMMO brand malt liquor or heavy lager or whatever they were calling this scalding vehicle of 8.5%. SatanPro and his co-worker Cat show up and we discuss who is the biggest geek and the positive qualities of being a geek and stepping out of the norm and being yourself and telling the world to suck your pocket protector. I get slightly torn up from the CammoMillah black and tans as we watched Nosferatu and talked aboot various shit. SatanPro has to drop Cat at work so they depart and I await the arrival of Marcel and call [mul]DOOMSTONE to tell him of the beauty of the swill that is departing this mortal coil so quickly and edge him on to swing by.

MH: I arrive at Richmond and the first thing Dean does is press a cold beer into one hand and my copies of his Jaguar and X-Mas comps into the other. No problem with that. We drink beer, watch tape of Dean running around a baseball field at 1 AM, and wait for the rest of our merry band to arrive. I become a big fan of Extemporaneous Speaking with SatanPro.

DR: Cel arrives about ten minutes before Ryan arrives and SatanPro returns. I try to get Doomstone to chug the rest of the Cammo before we get into Cel’s car but he is hyped up on IcoPro so I nurse it on the way over and then forget about the wretched remains of the beloved swill that is Cammo until I pour it out in my front yard when we get back.

MH: Ryan and SatanPro arrive and we take off. Somehow, I end up driving again – Now, I’m no straw-weight, but I think my car’s become accustomed to me over the 3.5 years that I’ve owned it. Adding Dean and SatanPro to the mix = My Car Hates Me All Night Long. They’re great guys, though. We look for food and get some good ol’ Richmond BBQ. As agreed upon earlier, I buy Dean a sandwich and enjoy a fine BBQ Chicken Sandwich myself.

DR: Cel’s car has never known the merciless onslaught of Cel, SatanPro and my own immense girth skullfudging the suspension like a mutha. We scoff at the comical thinness of [mul]DOOMSTONE in comparison and he begins to weep the bitter tears of the thin… The Barbecue RULED. Dunn’s BBQ on Mechanicsville turnpike is NUMBER ONE and the BEST! SatanPro wanders off to the Asian market but it is closed so we leave the wonderment of actual BBQ in the state confines of Virginia and head for the Showplace Annex.

MH: We arrive at the show and make half-assed plans to swipe the banner out front. We get inside and meet up with the others. So I’m chatting with Dean, Ryan, SatanPro, Confederate Mack (Cool guy, real mellow), Jeremy Soria (Dean unsuccessfully tries to jump into the trash can to avoid actually having to talk to him. Just kidding. I think.), and Dave Layne (His right hip, better known as Hangman Tim, isn’t there, as he’s trying to put the blast on some laaaaaaaadies at a Christmas party). I silently wonder where Cowboy Wayne is. Rob Hoffman is your NWA Virginia Commissioner.

DR: The Showplace Annex rules as a wrestling building. Tim and I were discussing the building last week- as both of us wasted our youth and glory going to VWA shows here in the madcap 80s. He was saying that it was smaller and crappier than he remembered. When I got there, it looked actually bigger than I remember. Of course, I hadn’t seen it configured for wrestling in the span of two girlfriends, one wife and two children ago, so who knows what my mind had turned it into. Either way, it’s a great place for wrestling and there are waaaay more people there than I expected (I was expecting 5, they got about 45-60ish.) All I know is that this was probably the best in-ring display ever to grace the less-than-storied Showplace Annex that I’ve ever seen.

MH: Before we get underway, the promoter comes out and gives us the State Of NWA Virginia and introduces everyone to us. Of course, we here at the DVDVR are all about making sure the kids have a good time at the show without having to hear smart marks be all self-serving while thinking they’re funny, so we play along with the heels and faces. Our boy, NWA Virginia Champion, Jacey North comes out and I think he figures out where we’re sitting pretty quickly. That wasn’t gonna be too hard, though. We’re looking at a gate of about 45 people tonight. The Smallest Crowd I’d ever been a part of – for about 24 hours (PWF Road Report Tease #1).

DR: I got baffled at the heel face structure because the whole basis of it was a New York invasion where ya boo the Yankee if they were bad because they were stinkin’ Yankees OR you were behind the New Yorker because we are all good Americans and we were in unity with our Northern brothers. Hopefully the beloved New Yorkers didn’t hear us saying such hateful things about the Jets. Philadelphia seemed to be a good evil place to be from, as it didn’t have the sympathetic political baggage of NYC and ALSO it was street-cleaning week in Richmond and we Richmonders are thoroughly appalled at the filthiness of Northern cities- so the heel heat was built in! Jeremy rates the OTB tracks in the state of Virginia and thus I know this is going to be a fun night of wrestling.

MH: At the end of this, the main angle for the night is made – Preston Quinn demands a title shot from Jacey, but Jacey, being a good heel, makes Preston work for it. PQ’s gotta run the gauntlet tonight, with three guys that Jacey will pick. If he runs the gauntlet, Quinn gets inserted into the main, making it a three-way.

DR: FOUR MOTHERFUCKING PRESTON QUINN MATCHES ON ONE SHOW!!!! Whoever books this is the best booker in the motherfucking world. I party and freak out.

THE SHOW
ERIC KREED vs. HOT PROPERTY
MH: HEY, DEAN! LOOK, IT’S PETE STEIN! I had been looking forward to seeing some of these VA guys in person to see where they truly belong on the 500 (All rankings under scrutiny 24/7/365). That said, Hot Property has been catching a free ride for too long now. I mean, he’s a fine babyface and all, but when you’re more shtick than work, I can’t defend ya. Fine match, though. Property with something or other. I mean, Eric Kreed is Pete Stein With A Shaved Head. Right down to the Chrebet jersey. And the heelish blathering that goes on way too long. Eerie, I tell ya.

DR: Kreed was fun on THE STICK! And we get hoot and holler about Kerry Collins and what could more cathartic than that? Kreed is tiny. I got no problem with Hot Property but I don’t see him sticking on the 500. Of course, you can’t judge folks by the first match on the card. Of course, punches are punches. Maybe Preston Quinn should hold a clinic because his were fucking DiBiase-esque.

ZIEG vs. 2 DAMN BADD
MH: 2 Damn’s a good heel, with a fun heel manager. Zieg doesn’t ostensibly appear to be a babyface, but there ya go. 2 Damn controls with heel shenanigans, has a decent legdrop. Heel miscommunication eventually backfires, and a Zieg diving clothesline gets the win. We start taking notice of Dean’s newest trophy wife in the front row during this match, this girl who has a set of lungs on her and is not afraid to use them screaming at the heels.

DR: I think this is where we all became One Unified America backing the Yankee. My newest trophy wife was a true spectacular Heart-In-The-8-Track, Chug-The-Old Crow- And-Pass-The-One-Hitter redneck beauty. I curse this culture that limits my seed to one wife. 2 Damn Badd looked very improved from the Blakely’s show I saw him at a few months ago. Perfectly fine wrestling.

“BIG 80’S” ROBERT ROYAL & BILLY THE KIDD vs. THE RUSSIAN MAFIA
MH: Both matches previous to this were good. This wasn’t. The Mafia tried a bunch of double-teams that they couldn’t quite nail, Royal just wasn’t good, and Billy wasn’t the guy to carry this. Mafia wins with Russian Shenanigans. The Mafia’s valet gets the Lecherous Seal Of Approval from our contingent in the back row. By now, I’ve taunted everyone with the fact that the next night, I was gonna be somewhere in Pennsylvania watching Shinya Motherfucking Hashimoto. SatanPro is the first to curse me (PWF Road Report Tease #2).

DR: We all curse Cel. Billy The Kidd was fine as the face in peril. From there, it got sketchy. The valet was faaar too pasty for my taste. Not that I’m the Boy Of Her Dreams either, I would think.

ROCKY REYNOLDS vs. STAR
MH: Want a mental picture of Rocky Reynolds? Imagine if Antonio Pena managed to get Chris Jericho to be his Pool Boy. Of course, I make sure to not be sitting directly in front of or behind Jeremy when gets a load of this guy. Don’t let the tiny, tiny, tiny pants distract you, though – Rocky brings the heel bumping and selling for the small babyface. Star’s up for it, though, showing us that he’s watched his tapes by busting out La Magistral, A Pendulum Hold, and other lucha-flavored stuff. We’re digging this match.

DR: Rocky Reynolds fucking RULED. We start yelling for- sweet JESUS!- BIGGER PANTS! Jeremy tells us to basically to shut the fuck up. Jeremy rocks. Star goes hogwild with the five lucha submissions and we completely freak out at this match- which was somehow better than all of the Quinn matches. When you can go to a Virginia indie show and there is a match better than the match that Preston Quinn is in, you are at a very fine VA Indie match indeed.

GAUNTLET
PRESTON QUINN vs. GATOR
MH: Gator’s this guy in fatigues who’s all agile and does backflips and whatnot. Gator ain’t the main face here though, as a (nice-looking) mortal is met with a Quinn Diving Neckbreaker Drop to get him safely to the next stage. At this point, Jacey takes a seat near us to keep an eye on the proceedings. We tell the Head Of NWA Virginia Security to make sure that Jacey doesn’t get any closer to the ring.

DR: Oh yeah, the fact Gator got in the Mortal to set up the finish to this tiny match was a nice touch. I am a fan of Quinn’s punches. They rule.

PRESTON QUINN vs. TOMMY “TOO SWEET” LOGAN
MH: Tommy a big boy and horrifies us all by dropping the straps. His valet has a butt the size of Dean’s 3-Year-Old Daughter. You do know the result here, right?

DR: Logan ruled it by using his well prepared fatness to appall the rubes and thrill we girthier in the audience with his fearless display of his manly hugeness. He is my new role madel and my never wear a shirt again in UNITY with my chubbed-out Phildelphian comrade in pudge..

PRESTON QUINN vs. “HIGH PROFILE” DYLAN NIGHT
MH: I was interested in getting a look at Night here, as I was gonna be seeing more of him this weekend. This is fine stuff here, with Quinn overcoming all kinds of interference to (duh) make it to the main event. I am all enthused as Night comes out with kicker-type pants and then throws kicks - Dean and I quickly conclude that Hashimoto is gonna kill this guy tomorrow night and we tell him so. And guess what? (PWF Road Report Tease #3).

DR: Night added all the pounds in the world since I last saw him in KYDA- where he was quite the prettyboy. This was a good match though – as Night can work and Preston Quinn can work like a motherfucker.

INTERMISSION
MH: Surprisingly, Dean needs more food, so he goes for a hot dog. I grab a hamburger and we chat with Jacey for a bit. Great guy, gives us some insight to the night’s booking, and we talk about the World Title Picture. Hail and well met, good fellow. There’s a 50-50 raffle going on here, so I put in a buck to do my part.

DR: Fat Ass Dave comes over and we try to figure out how old the onions are. I figure they are from the 1989 comic book convention the Showplace Annex hosted. I’m pretty sure they were not a whole onion that saw the Clinton administration. The hot dog was probably from the Spice Girls era. We pester Jacey and Jeremy and SatanPro feign a martial arts display.

TWELVE-MAN ROYAL RUMBLE
MH: It’s a battle royal, if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. A pattern quickly becomes evident here, as Night avoids 342 attempts at elimination and is left in there with 2 Damn Badd against Hot Property. The heels try to toss him out, but Property counters and tosses them out for the win on one side of the ring. Not so fast however, as Night again managed to avoid elimination and catches Property from behind to win. No prob here.

DR: Oh yeah. Insert battle royal review from any report ever right here.

JACEY NORTH vs. BIGGIE BIGGS vs. PRESTON QUINN.
MH: Right off the bat, Jacey takes a beating, looking right at us with his eyes rolling in the back of his head before slumping to the floor. His chest looks like raw hamburger by the end of the match. Quinn’s the most polished worker in the house tonight, and shows so here. I really question Biggie here, as he comes out with a Fifth Element T-shirt proclaiming “I am Hip-Hop” but he comes out to Puffy and Mase who are most certainly not Hip-Hop. Points for effort, I guess. He really should stop trying to simultaneously channel Dusty Rhodes and Rufus R. Jones, though. As expected, this one breaks down with Reynolds (who had something of an alliance with Jacey all night) gets involved, , and Jacey sneaks a pin in here somewhere. But they keep fighting. So to settle things, Hoffman ordains a Parejas Incredibles match for the next show with Quinn and Jacey against Biggs and Reynolds. Jacey isn’t fond of this, but has to do it if he wants to keep his belt. I automatically don’t expect much from three-ways, but this was fine wrestling.

DR: Jacey was beaten enough and bumped enough to make this a watchable three-way- which I usually find pretty unwatchable. Biggie wasn’t helping much, but you judge a man from a three-way so I hope the tag match comes off in February, as I’m assuming it will rock the world. Hell, if they actually advertise, folks might show up.

EPILOGUE
MH: After the show, some of the workers are leaving and take time to shake hands. We hang around outside for a bit and halfway think about hanging out somewhere, but we all actually want to get some sleep. Fun show, only one match was bad, and hanging out with friends. What more do you want? I’ll be back for the next show. In the meantime though, I hightail it for Arlington to try and get some sleep.

DR: Raven gives me the lucha fix that I need and he makes Confederate Mack-like hilarious comments about the fake boobies of one of the valets and laugh deeply into the night. Fun fun show and it great watching it with such a motley crew. I hope they run regularly because it sleazy without being repulsive like good wrestling should be.