In a wrestling ring, for some reason...
Hello, I'm here with the dreaded Cornshoe Hammaker, whose cannon has blazed his way into infamy in BHGP history. Let me ask you, Cornshoe, how does it feel to have killed Abraham Lincoln?
It was cool. Where's the other guy?
I can answer that. As per program policy, he's serving a mandatory susphurrrk
(gets brained by a folding chair)
Oh, yes, that's Prater's manager, the nefarious Mr. Fuji. I'm sure he hasn't got a single devious plan for today.
The police! What's going on here?
Mr. Cornshoe Hammaker, we're here to take you into custody for killing several people with a Civil War cannon.
Officer, if I may, we have a tournament going on
Easy there, drunkie, or you're going downtown too.
It's not my fault, officer. The bartender must have put gunpowder in my cannon!
Is that a euphemism? You... you comin' on to me, pipsqueak?
Off to jail we must go, then. Goodbye, BHGP.
Well, welcome, Mr. Prater! It looks like it's just you in this tournament, so unless someone... hey, what's that?
My god, that cannonball almost took your head off, Shane!
What's going on? Where did this cannonball come from?
CORNSHOE HAMMAKER RIDES AGAIN!
But I'm the Million Dollar Man
Cornshoe! You've got a devious manager from the WWF too! My God!
Two can play at the evil twin game, Shane Prater!
Leave your Civil War cannon out of this and fight me like a man!
Then wait a second... if you're not Cornshoe...
Wait, so who's in police custody?
Back at Central Booking...
Boss, c'mere and take a look at these fingerprints.
Very interesting.... wait a second, these aren't fingerprints at all! These are Civil War cannons!