Wilmington, DE- Backyard wrestler and current Xtreme Backyard Wrestling Alliance World Champion Mike Stab was shocked to learn that the WWE wanted to offer him a contract.
Following his “Barbed-Wire, Fireworks, and Dog Doo” match with Slash Hackenschmidt, “The Master Of Darkness” Damian Devil, and Mark Boner at the XBWA’s 1st annual “Murda N’ Mayhem” Tournament, Stab relaxed behind the tarp serving as the dressing room when a stretch limo pulled into his driveway. Stab shielded his eyes from the setting sun as a large man in a suit emerged from the limo. The man walked directly up to a stunned Stab and said, “Hi, I’m Triple H. You must be the famous Mike Stab.”
Stab, rendered speechless by the appearance of the former WWE champion in his own backyard, could only nod in the affirmative as he wiped away blood and bits of light tube from the back of his head.
“We’ve been following you a long time, Mike, and I just have to say that, speaking for the world’s largest wrestling organization, we’re very interested in having you join the WWE. Great name by the way,” said Triple H.
“You…you’ve heard of me?” stammered Stab.
“Of course!” exclaimed Triple H. “Remember, you tweeted me a shaky 24-second Youtube video of you jumping off your roof into a flaming table? You sent it at 3:14am on Sunday July 21st. I mean, wow, that was just incredible. That’s all anyone could talk about the next day at the office. How long have you been wrestling for? 10, 15 years?”
“Actually, just a few months, sir,” said Stab, putting a lukewarm Natural Ice beer on the back of his head.
“Hey, Steph,” Triple H yelled at the limo. “Can you believe the Mike Stab has only been wrestling for a few months?!”
WWE Executive Vice President of Creative Stephanie McMahon stepped out of the limo, approached the blood and dirt-encrusted wrestler, and said, “Hi, I’m Stephanie. You must be Mike Stab. Love the name!”
Stab shook her hand, rubbing his head in bewilderment.
“Look, I know you’re busy, so I’ll just get right down to business. WWE wants you and we’ll do whatever it takes to sign you. We just love your no-holds-barred extremely violent style and your profanity-laced promos. That’s exactly what we’re looking for in the WWE. Plus, your look is just perfect,” said Stephanie, pointing to Stab’s faded “Life Is Peachy”-era Korn t-shirt hanging of his 135lb frame, torn JNCO shorts, and holey Converse sneakers. “Dad, could you come out here and make it official?”
WWE’s chairman and CEO Vince McMahon himself emerged from the limo, stopping to shake hands with every wrestler and spectator in attendance before approaching the group.
“How are you doing, Mike Stab? Fantastic name. I’m Vince McMahon. I have, in my hand, a 10-year iron-clad contract for you to sign. Normally, we’d send you to NXT for seasoning and training, but upon reviewing your video, we’d like to fast track you and put you right in the main event against John Cena. I can’t make you any promises, but we’re considering a lengthy title reign. A year, maybe two. Now, when you get in there, I really want you to let Cena have it. I mean really bash his stupid, pretty-boy face in. I just hate him so much. Can you do that for me, Stab?”
“Yes, Mr. McMahon sir! I’ve been working on this move where I put a stop sign on my opponents face and then fall on it with all my weight from the top rope,” said Stab who was now clutching his head with both hands.
Vince McMahon laughed uproariously. “That’s perfect! You’re going to be a huge star, Stab. All you have to do is sign right here.”
As he went to sign the contract of his dreams, Stab paused, closed his eyes, and lifted his head towards the sky to savor the moment. When he opened his eyes, Stab suddenly realized that he was, in fact, staring at the ceiling of an ambulance where he was being treated for a massive concussion.