There was a hype video for our WWF Championship match made by Money Inc

MONEY INC PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS
A MIDSUMMERSLAM NIGHT'S DREAM

Red curtains open on a stage, where a spotlight shines on Ted DiBiase.

Chorus: Ahahaha! You may know me as Ted DiBiase, but today I am The Chorus!
	I tell the tale of a great hero and champion, Goldust!

The spotlight leaves the Chorus and shines on a man in gold knight armor with a toy replica belt strapped around the bulky costume. The man breathes in and bites at the air; it's unmistakable, it's Goldust playing as himself.

Chorus: {goldust intro}


Goldust jogs in place as the makeshift set scrolls past him until the Box Office Bossman in a ratty wig and flannel shirt walks in.

Chorus: What-ho! Why it is that scoundrel, Cactus Jack!
	Watch out, Goldust, for his Cactus Clothesline attack!

Cactus: With the deepest regrets, and tears that are soaked
	I'm here to say your days as champ have croaked
	I'm crazy as hell and really stupid to boot
	I used loopholes aplenty, so the Deadly Game is moot
	Kiss your title goodbye, as soon as that bell is rang
	I'm gunning for you and that belt. Count on it. Bang Bang!

Goldust: Oh Dude Lo- no, Cactus or was it Mankind?
	 You seem to think you've put me in a bind
	 That is quite funny, but it all doesn't matter
	 This chair to your head'll put you down in a clatter!

Goldust produces a plastic facsimile of the steel folding chair and lightly taps Cactus on the head who reacts by overtheatrically  flopping to the floor. The next actor to walk into frame is Fucktrain wearing a black and white striped vest.

Chorus: Goldust, pay heed to this fool's stri-ped clothes
	It is the Skunk, so it would be wise to hide your nose!

Skunkrocker: I am the Skunk, and I stink like one too
	It's known to us both I pose no threat to you.
	AW FUCK THIS, THAT DAMN SKUNK PLAYED ME A FOOL!
	I'M GONNA GO BACKSTAGE AND STROKE MY HARD TOOL!

Skunkrocker exits, pursued by a frustrated Ted DiBiase, who then doubles back and drags Funk and Backlund, wearing a red mask with purple gloves and a black wide rimmed hat and red gloves respectively.

Chorus: Look on, dearest champ, at these brothers so ghoulish
	Though right now they do come off more as foolish!

Funk:   Dear brother, you seem to be wearing my hat
	So shove off, or I'll knock you straight to the mat!

Backlund: Why, years of hard chairshots have addled your brain!
	It's obvious you are supposed to be Kane!

Goldust: Boys, boys, stop squabbling, it's really no matter!
	I'll knock you both out and serve you on a platter!

Goldust produces a tinfoil sheet that's been held together with wire to form the crude shape of a cookie sheet and taps the both of them on the forehead with it, prompting them both to clatter to the floor. Steve Corino waddles onto stage in a fat suit, huffing and puffing

Chorus: Take care, dear champion, the Mastodon approaches!
	Beware of his crevices, I hear they hide roaches!

Vader: I-huff-am Vader, the dreaded Mastodon!
	I'll have-huff-that title belt, with a dab of Grey Poupon!
	Your cleve-huff-rness will tumble before my sweaty flaps
	though, for the moment, -huff- I fear I must... collapse.

Corino collapses onto the stage, and Goldust stomps off.

Goldust: I'm done with this play, it's dreadfully unprofessional!
	Though none could best me, that chance is infinitesimal.
	I've got a match to win, I'm off to my trailer.
	I know this won't rhyme, but smell you all later.

DiBiase rushes into frame and starts in on a monologue.

DiBiase: It's a shame that's the way our story must end
	but our glorious champ's not afraid to offend.
	The thrust of our point we've delivered quite well:
	that no man can best Goldust in the Cell.
	So with great pleasure, and no hesitation,
	I present to you our feature presentation...

A title card comes up bearing
HELL IN A CELL