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Description
(Jeff Hardy; (c) himself. Currently in the employ of World Wrestling Entertainment, RAW.)

Characters: Jeff Hardy! Yaaaay!

You know, as much as I'd grown to love wrestling, I'd given up on RAW a while back. Kane was ensnared in some crazy acid-flashback plot that involved beating himself up a lot, Rob Van Dam had hightailed it for the ECW along with most other cruiserweights with any sense at all, Edge kept winning matches for no adequately-explained reason, Chris Jericho had left the building and not come back, Shawn Michaels' lobotomy stitches started to show as he became Triple H's jabbering helper monkey, and former punk-grrl! Lita had proven to, in fact, be a fuming hoebag, whose masterful battle plan now amounted to dropping out of her top and punching a lot of guys in the balls so Edge could pin them.

Woo.

But I do love the Hardy Boyz, newbie that I am, if only from precious bootleg videos, rare glimpses of grainy swanton bombs and clearly deranged shouting at the Undertaker on YouTube, and my almost maternal fondness for Matt Hardy during his stint on RAW (you know, before he moved to Smackdown! and started losing to the Miz). And once Jeff showed up, I was drawn once more into the heaving corporate bosom.

Sure, I'm a shill. Sure I'm giving ratings to a show that's much more lackluster than it used to be. But there are swantons.

Swantons! Multiple!

He's a crazy bastard, and I do love him so.

(This is supposed to be his "YYYYYYYYYOU can't BREAK me, 'Taker!" face; although, really, he was right. The Undertaker couldn't do much to Jeff that Jeff hadn't already done to himself. G'heh.)

Materials: Mechanical pencil, Sharpie pen, Microsoft Paint.

Description
(Jeff Hardy; (c) himself. Currently in the employ of World Wrestling Entertainment, RAW.)

Characters: Jeff Hardy! Yaaaay!

You know, as much as I'd grown to love wrestling, I'd given up on RAW a while back. Kane was ensnared in some crazy acid-flashback plot that involved beating himself up a lot, Rob Van Dam had hightailed it for the ECW along with most other cruiserweights with any sense at all, Edge kept winning matches for no adequately-explained reason, Chris Jericho had left the building and not come back, Shawn Michaels' lobotomy stitches started to show as he became Triple H's jabbering helper monkey, and former punk-grrl! Lita had proven to, in fact, be a fuming hoebag, whose masterful battle plan now amounted to dropping out of her top and punching a lot of guys in the balls so Edge could pin them.

Woo.

But I do love the Hardy Boyz, newbie that I am, if only from precious bootleg videos, rare glimpses of grainy swanton bombs and clearly deranged shouting at the Undertaker on YouTube, and my almost maternal fondness for Matt Hardy during his stint on RAW (you know, before he moved to Smackdown! and started losing to the Miz). And once Jeff showed up, I was drawn once more into the heaving corporate bosom.

Sure, I'm a shill. Sure I'm giving ratings to a show that's much more lackluster than it used to be. But there are swantons.

Swantons! Multiple!

He's a crazy bastard, and I do love him so.

(This is supposed to be his "YYYYYYYYYOU can't BREAK me, 'Taker!" face; although, really, he was right. The Undertaker couldn't do much to Jeff that Jeff hadn't already done to himself. G'heh.)

Materials: Mechanical pencil, Sharpie pen, Microsoft Paint.