Kayla Vandergriff vs. Lori Wilson
[Garry pauses.]
Garry: As I said, tune in next week when -
Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the final event of the evening. First, from parts unknown, standing at 5'6" and weighing in at 127 pounds - Kayla "The Ab-Dominator" Vandergriff!
[For the most part, the crowd erupts into an array of boos as the young gothic beauty strides from behind the curtained entrance. She, however, ignores them. Her entrance seems to have less of its normal glamour as she pulls herself into the ring and awaits her opponent.]
Announcer: And her opponent this evening - from Jacksonville, Florida, standing at 5'6" and weighing in at 120 pounds - Lori "Lightning" Wilson!
[Lori bursts through the entrance to enthusiastic cheers from her fans. Excitedly, she bounds up to the ring and pulls herself in. Immediately, her eyes lock with the hateful glare of Kayla Vandergriff.]
Sandra: Now this should be a good match! These women are evenly matches in practically every way.
Garry: I bet Bat-girl has Lori down in under a minute.
[The bell rings. Lori springs at Kayla, who is momentarily caught off guard, but manages to maintain balance. The women lock in a painful test of strength when, to Kaylas dismay, Lori lets out a yelp. Lori's eyes roll back and she slumps lifelessly to the floor. Kayla stares at her fallen foe, unsure of what to do.]
Garry: [excitedly] See? I told you! I told you! In under a minute!
[Kayla bends down, rolling Lori's body over. In the back of Lori's shoulder rests a dart. Kayla's eyes widen, and she begins to rise, but a moment too late. A buzzing sound is followed by a sharp pain in Kayla's neck. She does not have to look. She knows already. She has been shot with a tranquilizer dart. She slumps over on top of Lori. The audience begins to panic. The referee immediately checks for vital signs on the women, then lifts them both and drags them from the ring as best he can to save them from any further harm.]
Sandra: Oh my God! What's going on here?
Garry: [points to rafters.] There's the culprit!
[High above the ring stands a cloaked figure holding what appears to be some sort of blow gun. The figure hides the weapon and suddenly vanishes into the dark above.]
Sandra: This is horrible! Could it be another wrestler trying to exact some sort of revenge?
[No answer.]
Sandra: Er, Garry?
[Garry is seen running to the nearest exit. The camera pans down to see a wet spot on Garry's chair, then cuts back to Sandra.]
Sandra: I see how it is. Well, folks, it appears no one wins or loses that last match, and we're out of time. Until next week, take care - and look out for the rafters!
[credits roll]