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A character named Meat had his drink spiked with Viagra, which forced him to wrestle with a huge boner. This effect was subtly achieved by stuffing a dildo down Meat’s Calvin Klein underwear-looking trunks.

The finish of the match saw his opponent the Big Bossman take his nightstick and whack poor Meat in the cock.

I watched all of this in amazement thinking, “What have I gotten myself into?”

The next morning when I arrived at the Allstate Arena in Chicago, I suited up in my new Y2J costume of a pair of Harley-Davidson leather pants and a silver rave shirt that I bought from a hip-hop shop.

I was taking Jimmy Hart’s darling advice of wearing color to the max. Besides, I had a lot to live up to if I was going to dub myself “the most charismatic showman to ever enter your living room via a television screen.” I put my hair into the Gene Simmons topknot, combed the billy goat beard I’d grown for the occasion, looked in the mirror, and gave myself a Billy Idol sneer.

Y2J had arrived, muthatruckers.

My costume complete, I walked out of the dressing room as cocky as a male porn star, acting like I owned the place. I ran into Vince, who was getting a cup of coffee in catering. He looked me up and down, his eyes settling on my ricockulous hairstyle.

“It’s cheap heat, Vince.”

“Indeed.” He nodded with a weird look on his face and strutted away.

I went over my promo with Russo and he didn’t have any major concerns or changes. The Rock joined us, we rehearsed the whole thing once in catering, and that was it. Rocky and I were both trained professionals and we knew what to do. As the heel, I had some choice insults for him and as the babyface he had some tremendous comebacks for me. If everything went the way it was supposed to, it was going to be a classic moment.

I rehearsed my ring entrance in the empty arena and when I saw my new entrance video and heard my new music, I was in awe. The video was a montage of lights and cars speeding down the city street at night combined into a sleek and sexy package. Just like me.

My music was even better, with the opening tagline of “Break the Walls Down” setting the tone as a heavy, grooving guitar riff kicked in. The tune made me feel like walking up to the Pope and kicking him right in the rosaries.

In a moment that brought everything full circle, I ran into Jesse “The Body” Ventura backstage. Except he was now Jesse “The Governor” Ventura, the head of the state of Minnesota, and he was promoting his one-time-only return to the WWF for the upcoming SummerSlam PPV.

I went up to him and said, “Jesse, I don’t know if you remember me, but I met you in Winnipeg at a hockey tournament you played in with my dad. I told you that I wanted to be a wrestler and you gave me some great advice that helped me get here today.”

I don’t know if I expected him to jump up and down, pat me on the back, and give me the keys to Brooklyn Park, but he really didn’t give much of a reaction at all. He actually kind of jobbed me out saying, “Good for you kid. Another Jesse success story,” before walking away with a cigar clenched between his teeth. My grandma was right!

The day changed to night and before I knew it it was show time. Monday Night Raw started with a hailstorm of bombs and fireworks, as the whole crew gathered around the backstage monitor to watch Jim Ross hard-selling that night’s show.

“The clock hits zero tonight. What could this mean?” JR screamed with excitement.

A lot of the Chicago fans already knew what the clock signified. Some of them had brought Role Model signs and others were chanting “Je-ri-cho,” but all of them were ripe with anticipation about what the clock was going to reveal.

Like a Viking warrior, I was ready for battle when I was called to Gorilla Position to get ready for my cue. The Rock’s music began and the two of us hit knuckles as he stepped through the curtain to a thunderous reception.

I said a quick prayer thanking God for the opportunity and asking