• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

The theme for the PPV was Drowning Pool’s biggest hit, and I said, “Never mind ‘Let the Bodies Hit the Floor,’ Steph. How about ‘Let the Boobies Hit the Floor’!”

“Stephanie, I’m sorry about all this miscommunication. Let me take you to lunch and we’ll talk about it. There’s a Hooters right down the street.”

“Stephanie, you’re the breast—I mean the best!”

The crowd was eating it up with a silver spoon and it was one of the best promos of my career. Everything was going great until it was time for Rock to deliver his final line, which was a short rhyme describing Booker and Steph as “a punk-ass sucka and a silver-spoon motherfu—”

At this point Steph was to cut him off before he finished.

But she didn’t cut him off in time and The Rock delivered the line as written on live television.

“ ’Cos you’re a punk-ass sucka and a silver-spoon motherfuckaaaaaa!!!”

I figured they would just beep out Rocky’s faux pas and that would be the end of it. But when Rock and I came through the curtain buzzing about how great the segment was, the boss’s face was bright red and cordlike veins were bulging out of his neck.

“It’s not my fault,” The Rock said. “She didn’t cut me off on time!”

Maybe so, but did he have to actually say that word … and with such gusto?

Of course not—but it was the Attitude Era and that was The Rock. Motherfuckaaaa or not, it was a classic bit.

Stephanie kept on taking the abuse like Lindsay Lohan’s ankle monitor, but she would always get her retribution by doing something dastardly. She was involved in a relationship with HHH by then (both in the ring and out), and it was only natural that he would stand up for his woman at some point. When he finally did, it led to my best match in the WWE yet.

HHH and I built up our angle, which culminated with a Last Man Standing match at Fully Loaded. The PPV was based on the concept of three established headliners working with three up-and-coming superstars. Besides our match, the other two main events were The Rock vs. Chris Benoit and Undertaker vs. Kurt Angle. It was a big chance for all of us and we had earned it.

Stephanie was in HHH’s corner, and the fans in Dallas were pumped to see the match. H was on fire as a heel and was at the top of his Game (aren’t I clever?), and he showed up prepared to steal the show. HHH is first and foremost a great worker, and he proved that to me forever on that day.

The rules for Last Man Standing are no pinfalls, submissions, or DQs, and it can only end when one of the participants fails to answer a ten-count. This made it easy to get the crowd involved as they cheered and counted along with every tally. We constructed it with so many twists and turns, that the crowd was on the edge of their seats for the duration.

Hunter held my arms as Stephanie tattooed me with a vicious slap to the face. Then he hit me with the Pedigree but I was able to stagger up at eight. I whacked him with a chair and he collapsed in a heap, his face a crimson mask (thanks, Gordon), but was able to answer the count. Then I locked him in the Walls and he tapped out, but it was all for naught as there are no submissions in an LMS. We ended up on the floor and hit each other with the television monitors simultaneously, but both of us made it up at nine. Then the actual finish was going to be me standing on the announce table, preparing to moonsault HHH through the Spanish announce table directly beside it. Hunter would stop me and give me a belly-to-back suplex from one table through another, taking us both out. We would stay down as the referee counted, but HHH would stand up at nine, breaking the count and winning the match.

Sounds great, right? Well, in theory it was, until my old buddy Chyna screwed the pooch and messed it up. Earlier in the night she had a match with Perry Saturn where despite the huge signs at Gorilla saying STAY AWAY FROM THE ANNOUNCE TABLES, they slammed into the table that had been specially constructed to break for our finish and broke it first.

This was a scant twenty minutes