A/N: Yay! It's my first Xiaolin Showdown fic! Just so you know, I basically wrote this on a Mello Yello high. But I have many more chapter ideas, so if you like it, let me know and I will update soon.

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"Master Monk Guan, take one!"

The director leaned back apprehensively in his chair. They were nearly finished filming the latest episode of Xiaolin Showdown, and this one was particularly important as it marked the first appearance of Chase Young, giving the fangirls a new sexy villain to slaver over. Fortunately, so far none of the actors had insisted on making any of their idiotic changes to the script like they always did. He began to hope that maybe they would get through this one with no trouble.

They had reached the climactic scene. Master Monk Guan was standing on the overhead ledge, the reptilian Chase was standing on the floor, and both of them were glaring at each other. Dojo was still sitting in the pot, and the four Xiaolin warriors, along with Jack Spicer, were watching from the sidelines.

"Chase Young," Guan intoned theatrically, "I challenge you to. . . a showdown."

"A plain old regular showdown?" Dojo remarked, reciting from the script exactly. "We haven't had one of those in a long time."

"No Shen Gong Wu," Chase agreed. "We will use only our martial arts skills."

"No. We will not use our martial arts skills."

Chase looked surprised. "We won't?"

"We will use. . . OUR WORLD WRESTLING FEDERATION SKILLS!!!"

Suddenly, through the use of TV magic, Chase's lair turned into a massive wrestling arena, complete with hundreds of screaming fans. Chase and Guan were standing in opposite corners of the ring, wearing nothing but unnecessarily tight pants and flexing in front of the crowd.

"CUT!! CUT!! CUT!!" the director roared, pushing and shoving his way into the ring and slamming his megaphone on the ground in frustration. "What the hell is going on here?! There's no wrestling in this show!!"

"Sorry, man," said Guan. "Chase and I had a talk, and we decided it's better this way."

"It's true," growled Chase, still in his lizard form. "I mean, the first way was too predictable. We have a fight, the good guy wins, says something deep about truth and light, yadda yadda yadda. We have to spice this thing up!"

The director ran a hand through his hair, surpressing the urge to scream. "Look, you two – all of you – we go through this every single time we film an episode! Why do you all insist on constantly making these ridiculous changes that have no place on the show?!"

"I'm afraid it is our script, good sir," replied Omi. He and the others were sitting in the front row of the audience. "As you might say, it totally inhales."

"'Sucks', Omi," Kimiko whispered to him.

"Is that so?" said the director, his eye beginning to twitch. "Is that what you all really think? You think the script sucks?"

"It sucks more than a baby cow does to its mama," Clay said frankly.

Kimiko made a face. "Eew, Clay, that one was gross."

"Face it, dude, we're working with inferior material," said Jack. "We have to take creative liberties to make this thing worth watching."

"Well what are you giving me a hard time for?!" the director shouted at him. "I'm the director, not the writer!"

"Yeah, but you're the only one here, so we're taking it out on you," Raimundo said with a shrug. "Now who's ready for some wrestling?!?"

The director immediately found himself shoved out of the ring by two burly security guards as the match began. As the fans continued to cheer and flashbulbs went off all over, Dojo slithered into the ring in a referee's uniform.

"Ladieeeees and gentlemen!" he yelled into a microphone. "I present to you, in this corner, weighing in at two hundred and twelve pounds – he's mad, he's bad, he's basically a big ugly lizard – Chaaaaaaase Yooooooooung!!"

"BOOOOOOOO!!!" shouted nearly everyone in the audience.

"YOU SUCK, MOTHER$&!#!!!" Kimiko screamed.

"And in this corner," Dojo continued, "weighing in at two hundred and thirty-six pounds – if you take away his Spear of Guan, he'll take away your face – Master Monk GUA-aaaaaan!!"

The arena exploded with cheering. Several teenage girls held up signs that read "Marry Me Guan!"

"Now gentlemen," Dojo said to the two competitors, "I want a good, clean match. Now if I've got my wrestling parlance right, that means you're supposed to beat the crap out of each other with no regard for other people's safety or your own decency. Oh, and remember to swear a lot."

"Got it," Chase and Guan said together.

"Now LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEEEE!!"

As the bell rang, Chase instantly threw himself on top of Guan and started pummeling him repeatedly across the face. Guan retaliated by kicking Chase in the chest with both feet, sending him flying, and doing an elbow drop on him. The crowd groaned.

"Oooh, that's gotta hurt!" Dojo commentated.

"Would you all stop this right now!!" the director shrieked into his megaphone, although he could barely be heard over the crowd. "Do you have any idea how much this is costing the studio?!"

"Hopefully less than this match pays off for me," said Raimundo, waving a wad of cash in the air. "Put it all on Guan!!"

Meanwhile, Chase had Guan in a powerful sleeper hold and was attempting to throw him to the ground when Guan dropped to his knees and threw Chase over his shoulder, slamming him onto the mat.

"LISTEN HERE, YOU LITTLE $&!#!!!" Guan bellowed. "I'M GONNA $&!# YOU UP SO $&!#ING HARD YOUR MAMA WON'T RECOGNIZE YOU!!!"

"I KILLED MY MAMA, YOU $&!#ING RETARD!!!" Chase roared back as he kicked Guan's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. In the blink of an eye he had Guan in a neck scissors and was squeezing the life out of him.

". . .I changed my mind! Put it on Chase!" Rai shouted.

"You're good, Chase," Guan choked out as Chase continued to strangle him. "But you forgot one thing."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"I'M $&!#ING MASTER MONK GUAN!!!"

Guan pried Chase's legs off of his neck, grabbed him by his ankle, and swung him around several times before hurling him against the turnbuckle. The crowd went wild.

"PRESENT THE CHAIR TO HIM!!" Omi yelled at Guan.

"Good idea, little man!" said Guan, grabbing the folding chair that Omi was holding out. "TAKE THIS, YOU $&!#ING $&!#!!!" he screamed as he repeatedly whacked Chase over the head with it.

"Okay, Guan, that's enough!" Dojo commanded as he crawled up to him. "I'm pretty sure he's dead."

"Just a sec, I'm not done." Guan turned back to Chase and continued smacking him. "This is for taking my spear! And this is for that time you made fun of me because I'm bald! And this is for stealing my girlfriend back in high school!!"

"Seriously, Guan, he's not moving. You need to back off."

"All right, fine," Guan grumbled as he stepped away. Dojo crouched down next to the fallen Chase and counted to ten as he slammed his hand down on the mat. Finally he shimmied up Guan's shoulder and held his arm up high.

"The winner! Master Monk Guaaaaaaaaaan!!"

Raimundo let out a wave of obscenities as he ripped up his betting stub. Everyone else in the arena leapt to their feet and started cheering insanely and deafeningly. Several people started throwing food. Everyone began punching each other and a mass riot ensued.

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"Hoo-wee! Now that's how to end an episode!" Guan said outside the studio several hours later. He downed a bottle of whiskey. "Trust me, director man, the ratings are gonna skyrocket after that one."

"Well, unfortunately, that little rewrite of yours cost us our entire budget, meaning we can't afford to reshoot it. So I'm going to have to hope you're right."

The camera crew was packing up a few feet away, and one member overheard the director's remark.

"Wait – we were supposed to film that?" he asked.

The director very slowly turned to face the crewman.

"You. . . didn't. . . film it?" he asked, grinning widely through clenched teeth.

"Well, no. You never told us to. And since you're always talking about going by the script, we assumed you didn't want us to. . . are you okay?"

"Oh. . . I'm. . . just. . . fine," the director replied, his grin growing insanely huge. "Excuse me for a moment."

He promptly walked off and hanged himself.

"Oh, that poor man," Omi remarked.

"Who's that guy again?" asked Clay.