Meet Test and Albert
by Swan

One, if one is looking from afar with heavily tinted glasses, could say that WWF Superstars Andrew Test and Prince Albert are two of the most impressive athletes in today's double-tough world of professional wrestling. Some people like them for their power moves, intensity, and silent way of getting the job done. Some people like them because they're so damned handsome in those leather pants. Some people like having buttsex with donkeys.

It's not hard being a thirteenth string mid-carder in the World Wrestling Federation, especially when the boss's kids just show up out of the womb with the European Title.

"It's like they just show up out of the womb with the European Title," said the mammoth Albert, between sprays of the bizarrely large bottle of shaving cream in his hands. "They don't really DO anything out of the ordinary, they look like simple people with a fondness for pastel."

Test, from across the room, sat up and adjusted his cool sunglasses. "And I don't think Shane's ever even WORN a pair of leather pants! I mean, that's like the genesis of our character or some junk!"

"Genesis of our character?" Albert questioned, positioning the razor blade against his otherwise pristine forehead, "I thought these were just part time characters until we get to be ourselves and get over like Austin and the Rock!"

"Dude, you used to tag with a cross-dresser in blue vinyl shorts and have a giant dick ring on the front of your singlet. I think anything other than a shotgun in the face would be character growth for you, bro." Test laughed. "Biotch."

Albert scraped the razor across his scalp, avoiding the nine or ten randomly pierced things dangling around his person. The Boston native turned an evil eye to his tag team partner and grimaced. "If I wasn't busy shaving my head I'd hit you with my sit down gorilla press!!! Then you'd be sorry!"

Test's eyes opened wide and seemed to leap from their sockets. "Sorry bro! I'd have to concur the wrath of Albert and junks you know what I'm sayin' or whatever?" Test jerked his head back, causing hundreds of golden locks to flip daintily back against his already predator-like mane. "Damn, I meant to say 'incur.'" He slapped his face hard, leaving a red hand print. "Bad Test! Bad Test!"

Albert laughed into the sink. "Our mic skills are NEVER gonna improve if you keep talking like Mark Henry! Do you want to have to have sex with an 80 year old woman? Do you? DO YOU?"

Test began to openly weep. "No! No! No! Word!"

"How DID you get over, anyway?" Albert inquired.

"I hit the skins with Stephanie in a hotel room on G-TV. It was bad, bro, I plowed her bean-fields, yo. Bothered her livestock. Overheated her playstation!" Test began to rant now, his face lighting up like a child's on Christmas morning. One of the only times Andrew ever found true happiness was when he got to talk about that one time he fake-frenched Stephanie on Smackdown. "Sexed her up! Licked her boom-boom down!"

Albert slammed the shaving cream down onto the bathroom tile with a shattering thud, not unlike every time Albert falls out of the ring. "I hate the McMahons! I am Albert, I am strong, I want to catch all the McMahons in my double-handed chokeslam!" The Prince held both hands aloft, as if holding some phantom McMahon in his pierced grasp. "RAAAAAAAH!!!!" Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing the poorly colored and top-heavy Trish Stratus. Behind her stood Val Venis, her newest business investment, powerfully licking his own thumbs.

"Boys," Trish began, "I know you're named after my breasts and butt, but if you don't start winning some matches you won't be around here long!" She stuck her misproportioned nose even higher into the air. Her breasts, of course, continued to slowly grow larger. "I can't manage losers my entire career! I can't possibly pull it off, I don't have the innocence of Miss Elizabeth or the needle-freak insanity of Tammy Sytch!" Stratus paused. "Or kneepads like Sable."

Test interrupted, "Yo her names Rena Mero, you can get in trouble for that. I called her Sable once. Vince hit me from behind and then clipped one of my testicles off with pruning shears." His voice deepened. "And that's why they call me Test." Andrew covered his face with his hands and cried.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" Albert continued, "GAAAAAeeeeek!" Prince Albert's voice suddenly went falsetto, as he pulled his back hairs out of the vanity cabinet. "I hate when that happens! I hate the McMahons!"

Trish sneered. Val kept licking his thumbs. "Hello, ladies!" he began, but nobody was really listening.

Test and Albert collected their collective laurels and collected in front of their colagen-filled manager. Prince adjusted his thirteen-dozen nose piercings as Andrew smartly zipped up the fly on his sliver leather pants. Trish scolded them, extending her fingers in both of their faces.

"Show some promise SOON or it's the Hardy Boyz push for you two!"

T&A both went pale as a ghost. "No! Vince isn't that heartless! He'd never do that to us! Never! Never!" They embraced.

Trish walked across the room, grabbed her flourescent-pink zebra-striped pleather cowboy hat, and turned to her team. "Tonight, you have a match against Taka Michinoku and Sho Funaki. They're coming off a hot win against Headbanger Thrasher, so watch out."

Test's mouth dropped open as Albert questioned, "You'll be there at ringside to help us, right?" Prince Albert doing "puppy dog eyes" is JUST as cute as you could imagine it.

"Of course not," Trish stated firmly. She slid her arms into her eleven foot long brown puffy bathrobe. "I'll be waiting back here for you. If you lose, I'm taking my boot off and beating you in the neck until you pass out."

"Right," Test nodded. "The usual."

Albert roared. "I'll hit him with my powerful elbow drop! Ha Ha Ha!"

The fitness-guru strode back towards the door in her sixteen-inch purple and yellow spotted rubber platform shoes. "Don't disappoint me again, or I'll have Val make porno movies with both of your sisters."

"I have an incredibly large penis, ha ha ha!" Val added.

Andrew and Prince exchanged glances as their manager exited. Albert looked concerned. "I really hope he doesn't have sex with my sister."

"I had sex with Stephanie once," Test noted.

Albert pushed Test into the clothes hamper, sending the tough-man's Oakleys flying high into the air. Prince stomped back into the bathroom and began curling his chest hair. "I hate the McMahons."

Test lifted his head out of the hamper, dismayed, and with a pair of Val Venis's trunks on his head. "BIOTCH!!!!" Test screamed, before taking a big sniff. "Hey, these smell like Ken Shamrock."

The End.

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