What would the world of professional tennis be like if Trent Reznor were among the players? Imagine the scene at Wimbledon, as an unsuspecting linesman makes an unfortunate call....

Trent: What?! WHAT?!! Fuck YOU it was out -- it was IN! The linesman had his fucking hand up his ass! He doesn't know what he's fucking talking about! [As the umpire disagrees politely if not somewhat astonishedly, Trent throws his racket down and jumps on it.] GODDAMNIT! [storms over to the court umpire] My FIST up your ass it was out, it was IN!

Linesman: I'm sorry, sir, but the ball was clearly out. Now would you please...

*KEE-FUCKING-RASHHH!*

[A drum set comes flying down from the bleachers, Chris Vrenna flailing away at it madly, and lands on the linesman. Chris continues to play the intro to "march of the pigs" as Trent retrieves the remains of his racket and bounces it off Chris' head.]

Trent: Don't you FUCKING interrupt me, drummerboy! You fuck with me ONE more time and I'll fucking KILL your ass and hire Bon Jovi's drummer to replace you!

Umpire: Mr. Reznor, I will ask you one more time to return to your...

*SPLADANG!!*

[From his racquet bag, Trent produces a keyboard and whomps the umpire upside his little English noggin with it. Keys fly everywhere. The ballboys nab them as souvenirs.]

Announcer: Well, Marv, things are getting a little interesting down on center court. Reznor seems a little upset with that last call. I think someone in the crowd coughed and distracted him or perhaps he *SQEUUUEALLRAWXAWKFUZZZZZZSQWEEEAALAAAuui rauiuagh!!*

[The CBS Tennis-Cam pans over to reveal Charlie Clouser hunched over the soundboard. He has patched the microphone feeds into an evil-looking device and is running the announcers' voices through the Closer program.]

[Switch to a shot of the Queen Mum in her box, snapping her fingers along with some music that we can't quite hear. The camera pulls back to reveal Robin Finck standing behind her, in full gothic-stormtrooper drag, hammering away at his guitar. He looks straight into the camera and mouths the words "Bob Dole rocks my world."]

Announcer [near tears]: Well, Marv, I can't really tell what's going on down on the court. I can report that the score is 15-love...

[At the mention of the word "love," Trent hunches over and begins scratching lyrics to a new song into the grass of center court.]

Trent: I'll fucking tell you about motherfucking LOVE, you miserable muddy MOTHERFUCKERS!

[He begins flinging clumps of sod at the crowd. Princess Diana looks up from her vodka tonic long enough to bat one out of the air. She grins wildly. She is wearing a "Fist Me, I'm Trent" shirt and sitting with Al Jourgensen, who is on a cellular phone with a record label exec and claiming that he never knew he had an album due out this week.]

Next on TVT Sports -- Trent joins the PGA!

-- written by patrick bullion, from an idea by lara roth

Think they'll ever make the plastic water-bottle toss an Olympic event?