A WWE Christmas Carol

Chapter  2

With that, the ghost faded into the shadows leaving Ebenezer shaken, but still resolute in his booking decisions. McMahon shuffled off to bed all the while convincing himself what he had just seen was a delusion brought on by stress or something he ate, like those cases of 25-year-old ICOPRO protein powder he’d been steadily consuming since 1996. McMahon settled down to bed and eventually sleep found him. It wasn’t long, though, before he was jolted out of bed by a loud and raucous noise in the room.

*Snap* “Oh, yeeeeahhhh.” *snap* *snap* could be heard approaching his bedside.

Ebenezer was terrified. Was this the first ghost promised? Surely not, that whole tale was a humbug. Before he could react to the noise the curtains of his bed were jerked back. The Macho Man stood there resplendent in his Macho King attire. You know the robe than kind of makes him looks like a monarch butterfly? That one. He stood there glowing with the aura of the heavens, or maybe it was just the sweats from having eaten his own weight in Slim Jims.

“Oh, yeeeahhh. I‘m the ghost Christmas past, here to take you on a spiritual journey, yeah. You’re nothing but a grain of sand and I am the whole Sahara. I’ll consume you and swallow you up like the hundreds of pounds of processed ‘meat’ that undoubtedly contributed to my early demise, oh yeeeeahhhh.”

“I… I don’t believe this,” Vince stammered.

“Oh believe it, buddy boy. This freight train has left the station so either crap or get off the pot.”

“You’re, uh, kinda mixing your metaphors.”

“It doesn’t matter. If I say things slow enough it sounds like it has some gravitas. Besides most kids are too distracted by my clothes to hear a damn thing I say anyway.”

“But isn’t the ghost of Xmas past supposed to demur and quiet? I thought the ghost of Xmas present was the loud one.”

“Well, unfortunately, we’re at a shortage of quiet and somber wrestling ghosts. Now, stop complaining and let’s get on with this thing. I’ve gotta get back to Heaven. I’m teaming with André against Bruiser Brody and Owen Hart.”

And with that, the Macho Man waved a Slim Jim and doorway bathed in white light appeared. Randy ushered Ebenezer through and when McMahon was on the other side he found himself at the General Motors Place in Vancouver. He could see the large display outside of the arena that read “In Your House: Rock Bottom.”

“What are we doing here, Randy?”

“This way Ebenezer, oh yeeeeahh,” the Savage specter called as he headed toward the arena.

They made their way to ringside so that the Spirit of the Macho Man could show Vince the action. They watched Trips defeat Droz, the New Age Outlaws take on the Acolytes, the Brood vs the J.O.B. Squad, the New Age Outlaws again… Then came the WWE championship between Mankind and the champ the Rock where, though winning the match, Mankind was screwed out of the title by McMahon.

“You see, Ebenezer, what joy you used to bring the fans during Christmas time? Look at this well-developed storyline between Mankind and the Rock. Watch their relationship ebb and flow over the years, the story of the oppressed fighting every arrogant bastard that tried to put them down, oh yeeeahhhh. It was a slow burn that culminated in Mankind winning the belt only weeks later and ended up being a powerful blow in the Monday Night War.”

“Yeah, pal, I’m a genius what’s your point?” McMahon asked with a smug self-satisfied smile.

“My point?! What the hell happened? These days you’re more worried about subverting expectations than producing a coherent storyline. Salvador Dali has fever dreams that make more sense.”

“You’re right. The fans are cheering without us piping in noise. And they’re actually cheering the face! My God, I’m entertained and don’t have the desire to rage quit,” Ebenezer admitted. “Take me from here specter I can stand no more.”

He screamed this last line while covering his face with his hands. Being confronted with the glory years of the Attitude Era made McMahon sad that those years were gone and every blatant attempt at using that era’s good name for some nostalgia points had failed harder than a Danny DeVito / Rhea Pearlman sex tape.

5 years ago by Cody Brooks

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