Just to let you all know; I've never stepped foot inside a wrestling locker room before. I can tell you, though, that the majority of the over 100 wrestlers I've met in my over 30-year fandom from local independent shows to those who made it to WWE and other well-known companies spanning from up-and-comers to legends from the past have all been courteous and friendly in autograph sessions. This fanfic is merely a satire from my fantasy world of the jock culture background from the Hulkamania era and is not meant to be taken in any way an accurate representation of what really happened behind closed doors.

All Family Guy characters are copyrighted by Seth MacFarlane and Fox Studios.

All WWE characters are copyrighted by WWE or the wrestlers who trademarked their nicknames.

Peter and his three drinking buddies, Cleveland, Joe & Quagmire were having a guy's night in the house because we are living in unusual times. Mayor Wild West had ordered a Quahog curfew of 10 pm, so the four-man-gang used the power of their manly brains for each individual to buy two 12-packs of Pawtucket on Monday through Thursday so as to not arouse suspicion of alcohol hoarding for their weekly Friday night gatherings.

On one boring Friday night, Peter was surfing through the channels and he was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of history on Friday Night SmackDown as relative newcomer Aliyah pinned Natalya in just a shade above three seconds!

Right on cue, Brian walked in to downplay wrestling's new world record. "You guys still cling to a fad that died out 20 years ago? This company is run by a scam artist who produces TV shows that appeals to little kids and middle-aged basement dwellers who leech off on my hard-earned taxes!"

Cleveland stopped the talking dog dead in his tracks by pointing out the #1 rule in this fanfic; "No political discussion is allowed to be discussed in this story!" With the "trump" card ruled against him, Brian conceded defeat and decided that a binge on CNN on the upstairs TV would satisfy his evening.

Joe chimed in with some recent news that his son Kevin was sending videos to the WWE Performance Center in an attempt to convince the headquarters that muscle-heads have become all the "rage" and it was the end of the era of the "spot monkeys" who couldn't draw a dime at a flea market. Peter's inner reminiscent light sparked yet another occasion in his life where he married Lois in a random time and place much to the resistance of her urban socialite father, Carter Pewterschmidt.

Quagmire: "OK, Mr. Author! I don't need to read about another story about a fat man gazing at a hot redhead in a bikini and stumbling over his words while she giggles and he overcomes the insurmountable odds placed by her father and they get hitched at the end of the story!"

Wow! These lockdowns have hit the boiling point in your nervous system and have taken a bite out of your social life, huh, Glen?

"Yes! Now just give me a definite time and place where this story starts to get interesting!"

Very well! Peter, this is your life, I'm just here to type the words.

"Thank you!" My wife had the wedding plans and I had my dream wrestling career cross paths at WrestleMania IV. This was the time when nobody complained about their children eating pure sugar breakfast cereals or upskirt flashes on Saturday morning cartoon shows. Randy "Macho Man" Savage had beaten four men on his way to embarking an unforgettable career that would lead to his own televised wedding many years later. Hulk Hogan was about to take a much-needed break for Hollywood to create his first of his Siskel and Ebert rated "two thumbs down" movies. And I knew it was time to jump on the WWF gravy train before the government realized that training, prayers and vitamins were not the reason for our heroes' muscular physiques.

The problem was that nobody would believe that I ever injected a steroid needle or completed a push-up in my life. But desperate men do desperate things, and I needed to ask for help from my future father-in-law, who always hated that "fake wrasslin", but at the same time, he smelled green and gold when the opportunity presented itself.

"OK Griffin, you're lucky that Stamford, Connecticut is only a half-hour drive from here so the travel expenses are on me. However, in order for you to show me you're committed to this task…you are required to eat all these three-day withered white carrot sticks without any sides or beverages! I shall have my agents inspect your every bite while I'm at my afternoon meeting and that plate better be empty when I come back!"

Man! What have I got myself into? We were used to having Ronald McDonald encourage us to eat Happy Meals and our TV commercials have never advised us to eat plant-based hamburgers and soy products before! Now I was stuck with the task of eating 20 expired miniature carrot sticks in a matter of four hours! Well, my journey can best be summed up with this timeless song. (Vangelis – "Chariots of Fire").

The last piece slipped down my throat just before Carter touched the doorknob and the agents gave the thumbs up to the big boss indicating that I had passed the test. It was off to Titan Towers for the important meeting with the man in the powder blue tuxedo who welcomed us to Saturday Night's Main Event and WWF Superstars every Saturday afternoon.

"OK Rita, my clients are here now? Alright, send them into my office, pronto! You know I've got my appointment with the repairman to fix the file shredder that ruins all the creative staff's scripts of ideas that I can't come up with!"

"Well, Mr. McMahon! Nice to see a meeting of two wealthy businessmen in the same room together! You care to talk turkey with me?"

"Turkey you say? Well, would chicken suffice you, if you get my drift?"

This was my incentive to bang open the door without Vince's permission. "Oh yes! I get the joke! You're talking about "The Gawker"! Oooh, somebody needs to punch him right in the kisser! Stealing victories over Koko B. Ware and the Junkyard Dog with the elevated chicken wing slam! Does that bodyguard ever take his sunglasses off when he has to go to sleep?

"Hey! I didn't give you permission to enter my office this early into our negotiations! And you better run out my door before you let out that sneeze or both of you will never look at me eye to eye ever again!"

I jumped out of the divider between the office and the hallway in the nick of time before my nose droplets polluted Vince's germ-free corridors.

Carter humbly admitted to Mr. McMahon about his lack of knowledge about "sports entertainment", as Vince would give him a stern warning that the WWF doesn't perform "professional wrestling". Vince did have an eye for other people who may have the potential to rake in more dollars than your grumpy neighbour getting rid of the leaves on an average autumn day. You only get one chance to make a first impression, though, and Peter may have struck out on the first attempt.

"Obviously your fat son-in-law takes away more from the kitchen table than he brings to it from what I see of him right now! What can you do to convince me that he can contribute to my company? Any wrestling ability? Interview skills? Comedy that only I find funny? Come on dummy, I don't have all day, I'm a busy man!"

"HEY! You realize you're speaking to the head honcho of Pewterschmidt Enterprises! I've got enough green in my pockets to sew into my living room rugs!"

"SHUT UP! If you want to make your precious daughter marry the love of her life, I'm the boss man that you work for now! I'll bet you've never heard those words in your life!"

That last sentence pierced a hole in Carter's clouded heart. As his eyes became glossy, he reached out to his new boss's hand and gently mumbled out the words, "You've got yourself a deal."

"Now then! First things first! I need to get you and…um…fatso to get a first-hand look at the atmosphere into the locker room! Just let me reach into my desk, here! Two exclusive backstage passes to Saturday Night's Main Event taking place in Massachusetts! You two have up until the end of that evening to come up with one legitimate reason as to why I should add two more paycheques onto my roster or you're both getting FIIIRREDD…without getting HIIIRREDD! Do I make myself clear?"

"Mr. McMahon, I hear and obey your every command. I just need to make one request please. I have to get familiar with your athletes by watching every one of them perform in the ring. I desperately need a copy of WrestleMania IV to watch throughout the week during my coffee breaks."

"OK fine. You do realize I'm throwing away more free money by giving you TWO video cassette tapes along with those passes! Watching my PPVs for free is not a right; it's a privilege! And your simpleton son-in-law better come up with something to satiate my creative juices, or his dream marriage will be squashed like Steve Lombardi on Wrestling Challenge! Now I've got more talented people to deal with; that old fart in Minnesota pays his wrestlers with food stamps and I'm never one to miss a golden opportunity to pass up on!"

Mr. Pewterschmidt came to realize he was going to have to endure one of the hardest tasks of his life; watching two cassette tapes consisting of short matches with a quiet crowd that sat on their hands for the majority of the show! He was going to have to load up on the caffeine to stay awake to watch that Jake Roberts vs Rick Rude time limit draw! Worse yet, how was Peter going to interact with a locker room full of steroid-fueled jocks who didn't like to put up with the antics of a flabby man-child who only had the experience of watching through the lens of an innocent fan in the audience? Somebody was going to be in for a "Rude Awakening" in order for his "Million Dollar Dream" to come to fruition!

(One week later)

"Miss Elizabeth…Miss Elizabeth…I shall take you to be your lawfully-wedded wife for the rest of all eternity…"

"CARTER! Who is this Miss Elizabeth and are you having an affair?!"

Carter woke up from his lovely dream and woke up to realize the tape had advance to the Randy Savage vs One Man Gang semi-final tournament match. "No, no Babs, it's that fat chick with the tattoos and the mohawk! Yes! That's it! Big, beautiful women are starting to become all the popular fad!"

Barbara stung her husband with a vicious slap to the face. "In your dreams! I know what you've been doing! You've spent six days watching these tapes just to drool over that innocent young lady who's probably already married! I'm I not good enough for you anymore?"

"Oh, sweetheart! I know I have to do this for the benefit of our daughter, but you have to consider my feelings too! I'm supposed to remember the names of over 50 people on this show in a matter of a week?"

"Well, I've heard from your closest friends that you are a closet GLOW fan and you use your board room meetings as an excuse to discuss their gorgeous figures! I'm dragging you down to the basement and you're going to be watching those two tapes all over again!"

The remainder of the afternoon would consist of the sounds of zapping of tasers inside the basement from Carter's bodyguards in order for him to pay attention to the action before the big meeting with the head honcho of the World Wrestling Federation the next morning. What choice did he have; after all, he had a daughter to please and a future son-in-law needed to take his lumps somewhere down the road…somewhere in a locker room not too far from where the family mansion was located and the next NBC special was prepared to air its next show.