*The scene begins as Jonathan Storm and Ashlee Collins are driving on the highway, and for some reason, a familiar television tune is breaking the silence in Jonathan's jeep. He quickly dispels that by changing the radio to something else...like "This Is Me" by Dream.*

Ashlee Collins: Hey baby...do you think I can be a diva like them? I mean, I spend all my time making sure you and Shawn stay out of trouble, and that means I NEVER have time to record any tracks of my own!

"The Prince of Pop" JC Storm: Totally, baby! I mean, look at you! You're insanely hot, you've got an awesome voice, and you're the husband of a pop icon! You've got it made! You could be ten times better than Christina, Britney, or Mandy!

Ashlee: Even Jessica?

Storm: *nervously* Umm...sure, baby! Even...err...Jessica!

*As if right on cue, the car stops moving, and smoke begins to rise from the hood of the car. Thank heavens for distractions, eh? Anyways, Jonathan and Ashlee both get out of the car, and as they peer under the hood, they both nod.*

Storm: This most definitely smacks of sucktitude.

Ashlee: So...where do we go for help?

Storm: Didn't we pass a sign that said there was a town nearby?

Ashlee: Yeah...I think it's called...South Park!

*And once again, on cue, that familiar TV theme kicks in, and Jonathan and Ashlee start the walk into town. They're greeted by a group of kids who stand around him! The Prince of Pop is ecstatic that these kids flock to him. Of course, these are no ordinary kids. Especially the fat one and the kid in the wheel chair.*

Stan: Hey...who the hell are you?

Storm: I'm the Master of Matwork! The King of Swing! The Sultan of Suicidal High Flying! The Lord of the Dance! The...

Ashlee: Oh Christ...

Storm:...The one and only NYSWF Lightweight Champion, JC Storm!

Kyle: You get paid to beat people up? That's cool!

Cartman: Who cares? He sucks! He's the worst wrestler in the NYSWF!

*A collective gasp fills the air, as Cartman says his piece. They turn around, and JC checks as to why he's so angry at him.*

Storm: Why do you say that, little buddy?

Cartman: Because you're ugly, you sing like a girl, and you're facing Andrew Spears, one half of Points of Authorit-ah! He's gonna kick your ass!

Storm: Now, now, my chubby little friend...it's not like that! You see, Andrew's not gonna "kick my ass", let alone walk away from Up All Night our Lightweight Champion. I mean, this belt looks so good on me! What does Andrew look like? A REEKAZOID! He has unkempt, and uncool hair. He dresses like he was some sort of devil worshipper, and from what I heard, he likes to eat children! That's so totally Black Sabbath and evil! He even rips on pop music like WE were the evil ones! I want you guys to think about this. If he's so cool...why does he have hair like Barbara Streisand?

*A collective gasp screeches across the group of kids. Jonathan continues to speak.*

Storm: But anyways, Andrew's got some problems. He beats people up for no reason, and he's no point of authority! He has no authority at all! All he is, little buddies, is a glorified curtain jerker...and for the dirty minded ones in the group, that's not the only thing he jerks! "The Demonic Prodigy"? I find more dangerous things in the local Krispy Kreme, and that's just the grease on those things! He's such a mean guy...I can't stand what he does, let alone watching him wrestle! That's mean enough to make the toughest man cry! I mean, what kind of a real man would beat up some poor fan while he's trying to cheer for me? It's like he's jealous that I speak to my adoring public! I mean, it's so mean! He's got anger management problems, not to mention an overall heinous body odor problem. That guy wrestles without putting on any Old Spice, I'll tell you that! Andrew also happens to think he's all high and mighty, when in reality he's not. His girlfriend tells us all that. She says that while she tells us guys what REAL men we are!

Ashlee: And she tells us girls that Andrew comes up a bit..."short" on certain matters! Andrew's no person to idolize. Anyways, who else do you guys like?

Kyle: Sean Boden!

Stan: Spyke!

???: TIMMY!

*The kids and JC turn around and notice the kid in the wheelchair. It's...it's...TIMMY! Lead singer of The Lords of The Underworld! JC goes to Timmy and puts his arm around him.*

Storm: That's right there buddy, JC is going to be your rolemodel for the year 2001...because he can! I'm so proud to be your favorite wrestler!

Ashlee: But Jonathan...

Storm: But nothing, my dear Ashlee. I'm glad I found someone who appreciates my in-ring skill, and not that of "The Angelic Numbskull" Andrew Spears. Let's look at the facts here. I, JC Storm, have good looks, a killer body, and vocal chords to die for. Andrew looks like a cow, smells like a cow, and sounds like fingernails scratching a chalkboard. All in all, this leads to a very bad situation for Mr. Spears. This man, not only doesn't sound as angelic as his name, but he's welching off the popularity of another pop icon, such as myself. BRITNEY! Boys, let me tell you something. Andrew comes out, sounds like a bad man, but as we can tell deep down inside, he only desires in his subconcious to be just like me. So by imitating some of my minor characteristics, including a variation of my pop culture-esque name, my physical features, and my accomplishments, Andrew is internally torn on what he wants to truly be.

All: HUH?

Timmy: Timmy?!

Storm: The guy's a total wannabe! He dresses like me, tries to talk like me, and he's sucking the life out of Britney's fame by using her name! I mean, he could totally ruin her reputation with his demeanor! That's just not cool. So I gotta save the Pop world from the evils of Andrew Spears and Points of Authority! The fans of the NYSWF want, nee, NEED me to save them from the malaise that Andrew brings about to the company! Gentlemen, I call upon you to stand with me, raise your hands into the air, and shout into the night, that you have had enough! No longer will people like Andrew Spears, and the Points of Authority hide behind their not so evil ways! They will follow our 12 step program, and soon they will be as hip as me, JC Storm, The Prince of Pop!

*Jonathan looks around, and notices the group of kids gone...save for Timmy.*

Timmy: Timmy! *clapping*

Storm: Yes, my boy...this is a truely grand day in the world of pop.

Ashlee: Nice public speaking skills, Mr. Charisma. You scared all the kids off. You wanna wrap this up?

Storm: You're a real buzzkiller, you know that, Ash?

Ashlee: So? Just finish this off so we can get the car fixed.

*JC grabs the handlebars of little Timmy's wheelchair, and with pride, he walks with his wife and the young boy.*

Storm: Andrew...with my wife and this young boy, I march into battle. I march in there to defend my title, my honour, and the sanctity of pop music for all my little fans out there! It'll be a great day for me, but a very heinous one for you, my long haired hippy friend. You and that floatation device you call a girlfriend will be wanting to sing along to my blues tunes when the match is over. You'll be beaten like a red-headed stepchild, your girlfriend will be deflated quicker than a popped balloon, and above all else, you're gonna make me TOTALLY look good! You're so very cool for that! I've also got another reason to kick your arse coming up! If I win, that'll give me my 100th victory! One hundred people have gotten into a Digital Getdown with yours truely, and failed! You should consider it an honour to get that distinction...after all, it's the closest you'll ever get to being as popular and successful as yours truly! So The Prince of Pop has spoken, and when it boils right down to it, I'm going to watch you...

BOOGIE
THE F*CK
DOWN!

And there'll be no more authorit-ah, in any of your points!

Timmy: Timmy!

*He pats Timmy on the head, and Ashlee bangs her head against a wall. The man has truly lost it...and on that sad note, we fade to white.*