*Editor's note: Mitch the Intern is an NYU undergrad whose favorite Wednesday night pastime includes the TV in his dorm room, a green beanbag chair and two hits of acid. Enjoy.*
Bruce Leroy is back at the TUF House, and he and Jonathan Livingston Lentz are downing shots of Jagermeister and reminiscing about the good old days, days which happened about two hours prior and involved Bruce Leroy getting his ass kicked and pulling a win via triangle choke out of his afro. "Man, I totally kicked your ass," he says, now sipping Courvoisier from a chalice. "Really, your ass… Totally kicked by me. Totally." Jethro Lentz says nothing, only smokes more cigarettes, so Bruce Leroy continues, alternating from the Courvoisier in the chalice to the ale splashing around in a tankard in his other hand. "I. Kicked. Ass. Yours. Wait, did I say that already?"
From the couch, the loveseat, the dining room table and the hammock hanging in the living room, the others shake their heads in disbelief. Not at Bruce Leroy's words, but at the fact that it's been about a week since they arrived in Las Vegas and Bruce Leroy still hasn't removed the pick from his afro. He's showered with it in, slept with it in, trained and fought with it in - the idea that it's actually a part of his skull is bandied about.
Training time, and Team Canadian No Speak English brings in Frodo Baggins to show the kids a thing or two about fighting little people. Apparently, back in Middle Earth, Frodo is some kind of badass wrestler, and coach Georges St. Pierre wants his wards to know what it's like to face a Hobbit. Hijinks ensue. Dr. Watson is unable to cope with Frodo's giant hairy feet and tumbles to the mat. Spuds McKenzie gets blazed smoking Hobbit Leaf and falls asleep curled up in a corner. Bruce Leroy gets stuck in the doorway of a Hobbit hole, his bottom half jutting out comically from a hillside.
"Eet ees troo-ly ah-musing to see dem get beaten up," says Georges St. Pierre. I think.
Soon it's time for Team Josh Kosh B'Gosh to get their training on. Unfortunately, coach Josh Kosh B'Gosh's boys don't seem that into it. Training is hard work, after all, and by now it's dawned on each and every one of them that unless they score a KO or nail a submission in one of the fights, they're not getting paid one red cent for their efforts. So after a few rounds of listless drills and staring at the treadmill and heavy bags, Josh Kosh B'Gosh lines them all up against the wall for a pep talk.
"Guys, listen, the key word here is 'mindless'," he says. "As in, you were mindless to come out here and agree to fight for free."
Then it's time for Team Incomprehensible to choose the match-up for the next fight. Georges St. Pierre calls Chris Rock on Steroids, and some Brit named "Eye-run Wal-king Some". I think. Jesus, who knows.
Back to training, although before Team Josh Kosh B'Gosh enters the gym their coach decides to pull a prank. A prank so benign it's almost as if we're watching a different reality TV show. You see, unlike in previous seasons, when it was cool to leave a dead hooker in the backseat of Ken Shamrock's car or wire four sticks of dynamite to the engine block of Rich Franklin's SUV, this time around we get Josh Kosh B'Gosh blocking Georges St. Pierre's with two cars parked too close on either side. The predicament this causes for the Canadian means… the UFC welterweight champ must now squeeze through a tighter space to get into his car? Really? Come on! It was funny when Forrest Griffin released an adult bison into Quinton Jackson's locker room. This is too tame!
Now they're training, and we're hit over the head with some foreshadowing. In the cage, Eye-run Wal-king Some defies all notions of Brit fighters by demonstrating a modicum of wrestling ability. Coach Josh Kosh B'Gosh sees this, then strolls to the porch and lights up a cigarette. Stars quietly off into the distance. At the sky. At the darkening clouds on the horizon. "There's a storm brewing," he mutters aloud. Like I said, foreshadowing.
It's almost fight time, and in the locker rooms the fighters prepare for battle. But Chris Rock on Steroids gets a special visitor: former heavyweight boxing champ and convicted rapist Mike Tyson! In his oddly effeminate voice, Mike Tyson talks directly into the camera about how tough mixed martial arts are. Also, about how much he regrets getting that facial tattoo, because he has about a dozen kids now and they all make fun of him for it.
And then Chris Rock on Steroids and Eye-run Wal-king Some are fighting. As the first fighter picked when teams were chosen, expectations are high that Chris Rock on Steroids is going to out-wrestle and pound the crap out of Eye-run Wal-king Some. But there's more to the Brit than meets the eye - or less to Chris Rock on Steroids - because he ends up taking Chris Rock on Steroids down and beating on him against the cage. The bell rings on the first round with everyone convinced that Eye-run Wal-king Some really isn't British. Because, you know, he can wrestle.
"He definitely lost that round," says Mike Tyson, proving that he could be a better commentator than those clowns who worked with Bas Rutten for the Moosin pay-per-view broadcast.
Coach Josh Kosh B'Gosh is just as surprised as anyone that the Brit can hold his own. "I feel like motor-boating Georges St. Pierre's ass!" he exclaims, and a gay bar in Provincetown, Massachusetts, erupts with cheers.
The tide turns in Round 2, though, with Chris Rock on Steroids just barely edging ahead of his foe with one more takedown. A third round is required. Flush with the rush of battle and the chains of exhaustion, the Team Please Turn on the Subtitles fighter stands in the corner, struggling to catch his breath when he looks over at Mike Tyson. Mike Tyson stares back, his "You gonna git raped" look clear on his face. "Twice if you lose," Mike Tyson adds wordlessly.
That's all Chris Rock on Steroids needs in terms of motivation, and he comes out for Round 3 a different man. With a barrage of punches both on the feet and on the ground, he turns Eye-run Wal-king Some into a quivering mass of human flesh. Then he chokes him out.
Chalk up another win for Team Matilda the Moose, and back in the locker room, Josh Kosh B'Gosh is disappointed. Not so much because his team suffered another loss. No. Mostly because of the whole motor-boating thing.