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Five minutes later I was summoned to the Emperor’s palace.

“You cool with everything tonight, pal?” Vince asked when I stormed in.

“Sure … everything except being naked in front of the crowd. There’s no way I’m going to do that! I’m a wrestler, not a Chippendales dancer.” (If you saw my Zellweger, you would agree.)

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Seriously, Vince? There’s going to be kids … little girls … in the audience looking at my horn flapping around. I could get arrested!”

“But we have to make it look real. What do you suggest we do?”

I proposed we wear flesh-colored underwear and pixelate our units, and that’s what we did. I’m still not sure if Vince was ribbing me about being naked, but if he was I’m sure he had a good laugh at my reaction!

(Surprisingly, Christian didn’t seem to have a problem with being onstage exposing his Reso.)

On top of wanting us to perform the Full Monty, Vince also wanted Booker to discover women’s underwear in our gym bags when he went through them. Apparently, he thought it would be funny for his tag team champions to be a pair of nude transvestites. I once again protested and the problem was alleviated when Brian came up with the idea of putting a jar of Ass Cream in our bags instead. Neither one of us were sure exactly what Ass Cream was, but it made us laugh so we went with it.

With all of the controversy settled, Booker, Goldust, Christian, and I put together the match and we were all set to go. I was warming up twenty minutes before the show when Booker was wheeled past me on a stretcher. I did a double take and ran over to ask what was wrong. He could barely answer, but the paramedic told me he was being taken to the hospital for extreme dehydration (they pumped five bags of fluids into his body once he got there).

So at the last minute Booker and Goldust were replaced by the Dudley Boyz. We sat down to put together the twenty-minute opening match that was starting in ten minutes. I was stressed out from the pressure, and as everyone was going over ideas I frantically shouted, “Okay, everybody calm down! We can do this, guys, let’s just focus. Come on!!” I looked around the room at the peaceful faces around me.

“We are calm, man. Now shut up and let’s get this done,” Bubba said stoically.

We had a good match, and afterward as Christian and I were taking showers, the Dudleys stole our bags and we spent the rest of the show looking for them. There was some ridiculous comedy involved, my favorite bit coming when I asked a ref if he’d seen our bags. He told me he didn’t have time to talk because he was going to the ring for a match.

“You want a match? My face and your ass,” I said angrily.

We finally found Bubba and Devon in the ring throwing our clothes into the crowd.

“What’s this?” Bubba said as he pulled a jumbo-sized jar out of my bag. “Ass Cream? What is Ass Cream and what exactly do you do with it, might I ask?”

Christian and I were mortified over Bubba’s discovery, and as we yelled at him to stop messing with our stuff, Spike Dudley came up behind us and whipped off our towels. We looked at each other and ran around in circles like Keystone Kops, as the digital blurring covered our flesh-colored dong thongs. As I ran off the stage I saw two kids about five feet away laughing heartily at the two buffoons.

I imagine they would’ve reacted a little bit differently if our exposed Jackie Rogers Jr.s had been flopping in their faces …

Christian and I made a great tag team as we had similar work styles and personalities, along with great comedic chemistry. We teamed all the way up to WrestleMania XX until a bet we made with each other to see who could win the hearts of Trish and Lita ended up tearing us apart. The price of the bet? One Canadian loonie.

We were a regular Randolph and Mortimer.

Our first pairing as a team was for the tag team titles in a Tables, Ladders and Chairs match in Las Vegas against the Dudleys, Jeff Hardy and RVD, and Kane and Hurricane. TLC matches are difficult and very dangerous and all of us ended up with some