SOACPWHNHTHD shoves you to the mat, breaking his hold. You roll to the side and bounce up, twirling on the tips of one toe (or whatever it is you have at the end of those horrible appendages), swinging around an unseen limb to connect with the back of his head. He collapses down to the boos of the crowd. They love this guy! Well, the only thing you can think to do is join in on this orgy of affection and plunge the anal orifice that is this man who aspires to the highest office. Your stinger digs in, and he moans with a sound of relief. Apparently all those long years of pretending to be someone he wasn't really wore on this sad sack. All he really needed was a deep insectual plunging. And here you are to deliver it. Over and over and over again. The ref isn't sure how to deal with this, so he vacates the ring in disgust. The audience, now completely and thoroughly shushed, all silently file out, their dreams, hopes, and aspirations all dashed and no longer apply to whatever this horrific display in the ring actually is. One particularly sad looking gentlemen with a hat which reads “Science!” on it remarks to no one in particular, “You know, you pay all this money to come out to see some event, you're sold on a very specific bill of goods, all these promises of a quality product are made, but in the end all you get is a monster screw job. It's almost as disappointing as participating in democracy.”