Laying on a massage table is the immortal “Hollywood” Hulk Hogan, but instead of a towel covering his lower half all we see is the back straps of the nWo World Title. Sitting in the corner looking as fine as ever, with her bolt on boobies is Brooke Hogan, daughter of Hollywood and famous musician. As well as one of the two official valet’s of the New World Order. As is typical of females of her generation Brooke is tits deep into a text message on her blinged out cell phone while daddy dearest is getting a rub down from the Asian woman whose name tag says “Fran”. Seriously? Fran? She should have just went with Sarah or Jane. Fran? Yeah, that sounds Asian.

The blissful silence in the room is interrupted by Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” which starts playing on Brooke’s cell phone. Annoyed that her novel of a text message was interrupted Brooke puts the phone to her ear but not before huffing and puffing like she was ready to blow a house down.

“Hello?”

“No Steve, we aren’t doing an interview with you.”

“No Steve, my father won’t change his mind.”

“No Steve, I won’t do an interview with you either.”

“That’s a little creepy Steve.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”


Hollywood looks up at his daughter, his five o’clock shadow is in full black out mode. His world renowned white sunglasses with blacked out lenses cover his eyes.


“Who was that?”

“That was Steve Sayors?”

“Again? What does that dude want?”

“He wants to interview you dad. It’s all he’s wanted since you showed up. Can’t you just do the guy a favor and give him some of your time? He’s says he’s a huge fan.”

“That’s not how we work baby girl. The nWo only does interviews with Mean Gene. You remember Mean Gene right? He was the one that showed up drunk to your Sweet 16 Party. He smacked your brother in the face with the kendo stick while he was trying to break open the Pinata.”

“Yes Dad I remember. It’s hard to forget having a Pinata of a World Title Belt at your Sweet 16.”

“We saved a piece of that Pinata for you if you ever want it. But I think that bitch mother of yours got it in the divorce.”

“She got everything else so why should that be any different?”

“It wouldn’t baby, but it’s ok. We don’t need her, or that dipshit brother of yours.”

“Daddy please don’t talk about Nick like that. It’s not his fault mom hit him with the car.”

“You’re right Brookey. We’ll just blame your mother for all of Nick’s bad decisions.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you baby cakes.”

“Dad I just got an text message from Randy.”

“Orton?”

“No, Savage.”

“What does that dude want?”

“It just says Ohhh yeahhhh.”

“That’s all it needs to say.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means we have a match on Monday Night, it’s a tag team match versus Vincent Kane and Vlad the Destory brother.”

“You got all that from two words?”

“It’s not just two words baby, it’s a whole language. To know Macho is to understand Macho.”

“Whatever you say Dad. Don’t you have back surgery on Monday?”

“So what?”

“How are you going to have back surgery and then a match that night?”

“Baby I’ve had so many back surgeries that they don’t even close up the incision anymore, they just tape it shut, this way when it’s time to get the new one they can just remove the tape, go in there and do what they gotta do, tape it closed and I’m out of there. I get them done over my lunch break now.”

“You get back surgery over your lunch break?”

“That’s what I said brother.”

“I know a guy down in Mexico, Doctor Guerrero. Great guy, anyway he does the surgery 15 minutes I’m in I’m out, it’s great.”

Out of no where the Asian lady named “Fran” chimes in “15 minute.”


Hollywood and Brooke both look at Fran who just smiles and keeps on working out the tension in Hogan’s back.


“Are you sure these surgeries are safe dad? 15 minutes seems a bit short. Plus it’s in Mexico.”

“Mexico was good enough for those fake fun sack’s that I bought for you. Why can’t it be good enough for my back?”

“I’m just worried about you dad that’s all.”

“You don’t need to worry about the Hulkster. Let the Hulkster worry about you. That’s what dad’s do brother.”

“Ok Mr. Hollywood, time to turn over.” Says Fran in some horribly broken English.

“Alright Brookey you probably want to leave for this.”

“Leave for what?”

“In the business they call this the flip. Things happen after the flip. Things you probably don’t want to be a party to.”

“Gross dad.”

“What? Hollywood’s gotta do, what Hollywood’s gotta do brother.”

“Fine Dad, I’ll leave while some Asian whore does whatever it is they do.”


Fran looks up and smiles, completely oblivious to what Brooke just said about her. Brooke gets up and storms off in a huff while Hollywood flips over, his junk covered by the front end of the nWo world title.


“Alright Fran, work your magic brother.”