The WWF Does The PGA

SHANE: *screeching the cart to a halt* This cart is DA BOMB!! Don't ya think, Undie?
UNDERTAKER: *sprawled ungainly across the backseat* Don't call me "Undie"! Call me "Lord of Darkness"! Where the hell did you get your license anyway, Shane? A crackjack box?!
SHANE: Sorry man. I'm kinda jacked up on Slurpees...jacked up? FEEL THE BANG!!
CHYNA: *clocks Shane with a putter and throws him over her shoulder*
HHH: Thanks Chyna. *steps out of the car wearing a bright pink golfing outfit*
UNDERTAKER: Dammit, Helmsley, my eyes!
HHH: What? What! This is what all the pros wear, I'll have you know...
UNDERTAKER: Oy vey. Come on, let's just get this over with. MIDIAN! MY CLUBS! ...Midian?
CHYNA: He fell out the second Shane hit the gas pedal.
UNDERTAKER: Dammit! Well I can't carry this bag around! I have a bad hip you know.
HHH: Seriously, man! I went into this golf store yesterday and they told me this is all the rage!
UNDERTAKER: Look, Helmsley, I don't care, alright? Just stand away from me. Far far away.
HHH: Chyna likes it!
CHYNA: *already on the second hole* THE HELL I DO!
HHH: Does it make my ass look big?
ACOLYTES: *wandering up in matching outfits* What's shakin' Mark?
UNDERTAKER: LORD OF DARKNESS, DAMN YOU!
HHH: You guys like my outfit, don't you?



ACOLYTES: At least it takes attention away from your honker. HHH: Come again? UNDERTAKER: I need someone to caddy for me, blast it all! HHH: I'll carry your clubs, Mar--er, Lord of Darkness! UNDERTAKER: Thanks, Helmsley, I owe you-- HHH: As long as you compliment my outfit. UNDERTAKER: Oh for the love of evil...*sniffs the air* Do I smell Kool-Aid? GANGREL: Dudes, I'm telling you, we're totally in style! CHRISTIAN: Are all the pompoms neccessary? CHRISTIAN: *smacks him* You have the IQ of a Cheese Doodle, Edge, what do you know? EDGE: I like Cheese Doodles... CHRISTIAN: That's not what I was saying Edge, it was an insult. Oh never mind, just go back to playing with your balls. GANGREL: WHAT?! CHRISTIAN: I meant his golf balls. EDGE: What're these pointy things? CHRISTIAN: Tees. EDGE: I am not a tease! CHRISTIAN: No, no, they're called tees. T-E-E-S. You put your ball on it-- EDGE: EW! NO WAY! Who knows where this thing's been?! CHRISTIAN: YOUR GOLF BALL, YOU FOOL! My brain hurts. EDGE: Aww. Here, I can fix it! *raises his club over his head* GANGREL: *spots a golf cart* I GET TO DRIVE!! EDGE: *drops the club* No way, man! I'm a MUCH better driver! GANGREL: Like hell you are! EDGE: Am so! GANGREL: Are not! EDGE: Am so! GANGREL: Are not! CHRISTIAN: *smacks their heads together* Both of you shut up, I get to drive. UNDERTAKER: You! The traitors! ACOLYTES! OBLITERATE THEM!! ACOLYTES: Mark, we are NOT going to obliterate them. UNDERTAKER: LORD OF DARKNESS! MY NAME IS LORD OF DARKNESS! One more show of disrespect like that and I swear I'll flog you both! EDGE: Jeeze, Taker! Slightly horny? UNDERTAKER: Huh? EDGE: You're going to flog them BOTH? UNDERTAKER: *sighs heavilly* Flog means whip... EDGE: YOU MASOCHIST! UNDERTAKER: How'd you like this nine iron shoved up your butt? CHRISTIAN: Put down the club, Taker! We can work this out rationally! *slaps Edge* Think before you speak, Edge, think BEFORE you speak! GANGREL: Woah, Helmsley, what the hell happened to you? HHH: Why doesn't anyone like my outfit?! UNDERTAKER: Y'know, if you wore a fruit basket on your head, you could pass for Carmen Maranda... HHH: Really?! UNDERTAKER: NO! NOW SHUT UP BEFORE I BRAIN YOU! EDGE: Ewww, there he goes again! UNDERTAKER: That's it!! *raises his club* CHRISTIAN: *steps between them* Let's move on to the first hole, shall we? Another golf cart putters up... SHAMROCK: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!! UNDERTAKER: Oh hell... MANKIND: *hops out* Hey Mark, how's it goin'? UNDERTAKER: IT'S LORD O--oh screw it. BIG SHOW: Why is Edge eating his golf clubs? SHAMROCK: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAARGH!!!!! CHRISTIAN: What's with Shammy? TEST: He sat on a tee. SHAMROCK: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!! It really hurts, guys. GANGREL: *climbing into the golf cart* How does this thing work? *turns on the ignition* HWAAAAH! Now, lessee, it's brakes on the left, gas on the right...so... Tires squeal and dust flies as Gangrel runs over Shane CHRISTIAN: OHMYGOD!! HE KILLED SHANE!! MANKIND: Dangit, that was MY job! UNDERTAKER: YOU BASTARD!! Wait. With Shane out of the way, I have complete and total control over the Corporate Ministry. BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! TEST: But...with him gone...there's no need for the Union any more. *chin quivers* Wh-what are we gonna do now?! Just then, Gangrel comes puttering back, smacking into the Undertaker... UNDERTAKER: SONOFABITCH!! STOP THE CAR, GANGREL!! GANGREL: Okee-doke. *slams on the brakes* UNDERTAKER: AAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!! *flies off the hood, smacking into Shane's prone form* SHANE: *opens one eye* DANGIT MARK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! UNDERTAKER: OH HELL, HE'S ALIVE!! *jumps up and hides behind Christian* SHANE: Yeah, but I feel like I got run over... GANGREL: Uhh...*jumps out of the cart* CHRISTIAN: Got off my back, Mark! EDGE: What's Chyna doing? CHRISTIAN: Golfing. EDGE: THAT'S golf?! I thought we got to go into the ocean on big boards... CHRISTIAN: That's surfing, Edge. EDGE: Oh. Can we go do that? CHRISTIAN: No! EDGE: Please? CHRISTIAN: I said no. EDGE: But you meant yes. CHRISTIAN: No. EDGE: Yeah you did. I can tell. CHRISTIAN: How'd you like me to shove that flag pole up your nose? MANKIND: Well. This has been...fun. C'mon, you guys, let's go to the buffet! With any luck, Bearer hasn't eaten everything yet... The Union exits on foot EDGE: I'm feeling sleepy. Can we go home now, Chrissy-cakes? CHRISTIAN: DON'T CALL ME CHRISSY-CAKES!! MY NAME IS CHRISTIAN, DAMN YOU!! SHANE: Why is there Kool-aid all over my cart? GANGREL: Uhhhh, come on Edge, I'll take you home! *grabs Edge and Christian and runs away* SHANE: Hmm. How odd. Well, anyhoo, let's head back to the hotel. There's a movie playing on Cinemax that's the bomb diggity! HHH: Shane...you DO know that you sound like a flaming poof when you use phrases like "bomb diggity", don't you? SHANE: Whatchoo talkin 'bout foo?! HHH: Shane. You're a twenty-eight-year-old white boy. SHANE: Is there a point to this conversation, Hunter? HUNTER: ...Do you like my outfit? UNDERTAKER: Where'd my putter go? ACOLYTES: Edge ate it. UNDERTAKER: Curse that blond bimbo! Did he take my balls, too? ACOLYTES: We ain't goin' there, Mark.SHANE: Come on, Mac Daddy, I'll buy you a pina colada at the bar and we can watch "Showgirls". UNDERTAKER: *sniffles* I can't get any respect...