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Send Us Money: A Chance Would Be A Fine Thing!

A Chance Would Be A Fine Thing Logo


[We are LIVE and direct from the VarmitDome in lovely Buckshot, Kentucky! We pan around (Randomly, of course) to check out the signage. They include an appropriately buckshot-riddled "Hatfield" sign with an arrow pointing to a young fellow in biballs. Another fans has got into the spirit of the occasion with the words-picked-from-a-dictionary "Halibut earring tollbooth cactus 3:16" sign. And the occupants of one row are holding a multi-part sign reading "Why Didn't You Pick Us For The Spotfest?"... The sharp-eyed might recognise James "Scotty" Doohan, ALF, Master P, Tony Danza and Tonya Harding among them. We cut to Mark Shill, Mike Monroe, Nurse Heidi, Styles, GBH, Dennis, The Flunky and Scotty Whatbody at the BOB Extendo-O-Desk.]


MM: Anyone want to switch seats? I'm going to go deaf if he keeps that volume up!

NH: Hey, you drew the short straw, Monroe...

SW: Hang on... Why did I get last billing on the intro? "And Scotty Whatbody?" "AND"? What am I, chopped liver?

Dennis: Good Lord, no! Do you know how much you have to pay for a good piece of chopped liver these days?

GBH: Duh. Liver is squishy. Yur.

Styles: OH MY GOD!

[Everyone looks at Styles.]

Styles: Sorry... just practicing!

The Flunky: I don't have any lines in this intro... can I go get a coffee?

MM: Sure... bring me back a latte, huh?

[The Flunky leaves the table.]

MM: Well, folks, it promises to be a spectacular night of Sportz Entertainment! Title matches, gimmicky stipulations! Celebrities! It's gonna be a happening!

SW: So what are we waiting for, Mikey?! Let's get the show on the road! Bring on the Curtain Jerkers!

[We cut to the Masked Announcer.]

MA: Ladies and gentlemen... this opening contest os scheduled for one fal with a...

[He rummages in the BOB Relatively-Tiny Bucket.]

MA: ...Twenty minute time-limit! Introducing first... from I Don't Know and I Don't Care, And I Don't Wear Pink Underwear... THE UNDIETAKER!

NH: Boy, someone should tell Neville that the Roster HAS been updated recently... he's just not trying anymore!

[Long pause. The Flunky runs back into shot, clutching two coffees.]

TF: *pant*... Yes, that's right, Heidi!

[The lights dim for the Undietakers entrance. In the booth, Eddie B presses "Play" on his CD player. It's on "Random Mode", naturally enough, meaning The Undietaker enters to "Phat Beetz R Thumpin" by MC Carjack and DJ Rawkus.]

MA: And his opponent...



Styles: OH MY GOD!


NH: Oh, look... the Masked Announcer DOES wear pink underwear!

MA: This is so embarrassing! *ahem*... His opponent... from Thunder Bay, Ontario, weighing *mumblemumble* pounds... JEAN BANNISTER!

[Mothy Pythons' "Sit On My Face (And Tell Me That You Love Me)" plays as Jean roller-blades his way to ringside.]

SW: Why is Jean using Sir Hungalots' music?

NH: That's not Hungalots' music, you dweeb!

SW: Well, it should be! Okay, who's calling this snoozer? Where's the Medium-Sized Bucket?

MS: GBH is sitting on it...

GBH: Duh. Yur. Hee.


GBH: Ow.

MM: Okay, I've got all of our names on these slips of paper... in they go! Dennis, you do the honors!

Dennis: HonoUrs, old boy! Stop mangling the bloody Queens English, you...colonial!

TF: Just do the draw already!

[A shot of the ring shows Jean, 'Taker and the Generic Ref checking their watches and shuffling their feet. Eddie B re-starts "Sit On My Face".]

Dennis: Let's see... Right-o! Mark Shill on play-by-play and Scotty Whatbody on colOUr commentary!


NH: Yeah, whatever... race you to the bar, guys!


MA: About time... LET'S GET IT ON!

MS: And HERE WE GO! Jean Bannister charges across the ring and forearms the Undietaker! But it doesn't even faze him! Another big forearm! No effect! This man is a MONSTER!

SW: Yeah a no-selling monster! I wouldn't want to be in Jeans skates now!

MS: Jean backs up... WHAM! What a clothesline! The Undietaker is staggered! But he won't go down! BOOM! ANOTHER high-impact clothesline!

SW: Man, Jean is getting some speed up... HEY! He's still wearing those rollerblades the BigBOSS brought him! He's the Smartest Goon in Wrestling! Here he goes again...

MS: NO! The Undietaker catches him coming in and SLAMS him to the mat! WHAT A MANEUVER!

SW: It was a bodyslam, Tony! Chill out!

MS: The Undietaker stomps away at Bannister! Look at him stomp! And there's a kick! And some more stomps! Elbowdrop!

SW: Whoa, don't exhaust your moveset too early, 'Taker! There we go, back to the stomps...

MS: The Undietaker hauls Jean to his feet... pump-handle slam! He picks him up again.. I think he's going OLD SKOOL!

SW: Atomic drop! And Jeans selling it like it's 1963!

JB: Ouch! OW! Oh, Lord, my spine is so painfully compressed! Ouch!

SW: Now, THAT'S old-school! Bannister bails... I think Jean-O's about to do the J.O.B!

MS: Don't write him off, Scotty... Jean Bannister is a tough customer! The only man in BOB to beat Death not once... but TWICE! Can he pull off an upset HERE TONIGHT?


SW: Not if 'Taker won't let him get in some offense! He's no-selling chair-shots!


SW: Jean leg-sweeps him through the timekeepers table.. and he no-sells that too!

MS: WHAT A PHENOM! He swats Jean Bannister to the floor with authority and drags him back into the ring! He's going for the WEDGIE-ASSISTED CHOKESLAM FROM HELL! Could this one be over already? Jean thumbs him in the eye...

UT: OW! My eye! That really hurt!

MS: Jean with a small package on the distracted Undietaker.. ONE! TWO! THREE! WHAT AN UPSET!

SW: Th' hell?

MA: Holy crap... I mean... Here is your winner... JEAN BANNISTER!

MS: Bannister pulls off another stunning against-the-odds win! What intestinal fortitude!

SW: We'll have to start calling him "The Upset Kid"!

MM: We're back! And was that a great match, or what?


Styles: OH MY GOD! I wish I'd watched it, now!

Dennis: Righty-ho... shall we draw to see who's calling the next donnybrook?

NH: Allow me... Play-by-play... Um.. GBH.

GBH: Yur. Hee.

SW: Oh, way to pick 'em, babe...

MS: Don't worry, Scotty.. I've been giving GBH lessons in announce techniques..he'll be fine!

NH: And the color commentator... Styles!

GBH: Duh. Oh my. Um. God?

Styles: YES!

SW: Hoo, boy! THIS is going to be a weird one... back to the bar?

TF: Yep... Scottys round!

[Backstage, Loony Lenny in his strait-jacket, walked up to a man in a luchadore mask. Yes, that man was Insano Mano!]

LL: So, you think your Insano, huh?

IM: Soy el hombre más insano en el planeta. Tan porqué usted no va palillo esa recto-chaqueta encima de su asno.

LL: I don't know what you just said but I've got a deal for you. You want to switch spots with me?

IM: Soy el rey de los royals de la batalla. ¿Por qué usted no va a la zona de Rant otra vez alguna vez? Usted bastardo perezoso. Por lo menos hablo español así que tengo una razón de no ir allí. Puesto que nadie está incomodando traducir lo que estoy diciendo. Lenny usted bastardo alegre.

LL: You must be mad! Where's my medication? I know you're just a random run-in guy tonight. But since I haven't ranted, I want you to take my spot and I'll take your spot and then all the spots will be spotty spot.

IM: ¿La maldición es usted se retardó? Soy la mayoría del Insano Mano en el planeta.

LL: Erm, we have a deal then?

IM: ¡Su camiza de fuerza será empapada en sangre! ¡Soy hardcore! ¡Soy hardcore!

LL: Nice doin' talkin' to ya.

SW: Why don't we get subtitles?

MM: Then we'd need to find somebody who speak Spanish.

SW: Not for Mano. What the hell is Lenny talking about?

MM: I guess we'll find out later.

MS: SPEAKING OF LATER! Ladies and gentlemen, I will have the MOST ANTICIPATED interview of ALL-TIME. That's right, BOB's newest arrivals, SPACEDUCK and SPACECOP!

MA: The following "Pin Your Partner" match is scheduled for one self-induced fall, with a... *rustle* twenty-four hour time limit! Introducing first... at a combined weight of XXX pounds... KHAN and the VIOLENT PACIFIST... VIOLENTLY HANDI!

[Eddie B manages to play some organ music for Khans entrance... it's an organ break from "In-a-gadda-da-vida", though... Mid-entrance, the CD randomly jumps to "I Wish I was Queer, So I Could Get Chicks" by the Bloodhound Gang.]

MA: And their opponents... weighing in at XXX pounds... RVD and the DSYLEXIC AVENGER... SELLA REBU DNALHCTSUED!!

[Eddie crosses his fingers and utters a brief prayer before pressing "PLAY"... RVD and DA subsequently enter to a bagpipe version of "Disco Inferno".]

Styles: Bagpipes? OH McGOD!

GBH: Duh. 'Kay. Here we. Umm. Go. We got duh big guy. Who goes. Umm.. MEEEAH! In der ring. Yur.

Khan: MEEAH!

Syles: WHOA! That was EXTREME!

GBH: Hur hur. He just MEAAHed der. Umm. Stripy guy. Ummm. Ref. Funny. Now dat little guy kicking him. Kick kick kick.

[RVD is kicking the ref?]

GBH: Duh. No. He kicking der red guy.

[Oh, I see. Continue.]

GBH: 'Kay. Now der other guy in. He kicking him. He pins him. One. Anudder one. Umm.. nope.

[Eh? Who tried to pin who? Styles, a little help here?]

Styles: OH MY GOD!

[*sigh*. This is NOT going to work!]

GBH: Flippy thing! It going BONZO GONZO!! This... um. BEST THINGEE EVER! Yur.

[Could we get another commentator, please? Preferably one who knows his arse from his elbow...]

*sound of running feet*

Coma: POINK! There's a yodeling osprey-drop! Can you feel it, Mrs Sutcliffe? What a plonker! Nurf!

[Why do I even bother...?]

GBH: Duh. Little guy up top. Jumpy arse drop. Yur.

[Look, let me! We've got RVD and The Violent Pacifist in the ring... RVD with a series of kicks to the mid-section... The Violent Pacifist catches one...REVERSE ENZIGURI! VP is knocked back over the top rope! What impact!]

Styles: OH MY GOD! The Disembodied narrator isn't bad!

GBH: Duh. Yur. Him smart.

Coma: Poink!

[RVD calls his partner into the ring! Dyslexic Avenger lies down... RVD is going for the pin! One! Two... NO! Khan drags him off! He's got RVD by the throat! It could be MEEEEAHHH time! Wait! Dyslexic Avenger with a pik-pu! Uh, kip up!]

GBH: Pick poo? You naughty, announcer guy...

[Oh, shut up... DA has Khan by HIS throat! Could it be...]



Coma: Oooh. I think you creamed the caviar, Herr Lagenbrunner...

GBH: Duh. Yur. Blown spot...

[VP rolls back into the ring and bulldogs DA onto RVD after that SNAFU! He pulls a dazed-looking Khan to his feet and small packages him! One! Two... Khan KICKED OUT! What the hell? They could have won!]

GBH: Duh. Him knocked. Um. Loopy.

Styles: That's the pot and the kettle GBH...

[I'll say! The Avenger is back to his feet... he walks right into a swinging neckbreaker! Khan stumbles over VP, who collapses, dragging Kahn down with him... He lands in a pinning predicament on VP! The ref drops to count...]

DA: Legal he's the not HEY ref!

Generic Ref: You're right!

GBH: Duh. Whut?

[Huh? Oh, I see... VP is the legal man! He rolls Khan over and NOW the pinfall can be counted! But Dyslexic Avenger drops an axe handle on VP! Good thinking!]

Styles: Is it time for me to shout "OH MY GOD!" again?

[Knock yourself out...]

Styles: OH MY GOD!

Coma: Whee-doggie! It's a stampede! Head those clams off at the pass, Manuel! Ole! Dekai ne chinchin!

[Hey, I didn't know Coma knew Japanese! Sugoi, Coma-san!]

Coma: Hai!

[Well, back to the match, which I am doing a FAN-tastic job of calling, if I do say so myself...]

{Yeah? Well maybe I beg to differ, fatboy!}

[Hey! How did you get up here? And what are you doing with that chair?]


{Ha! Take THAT! And this!}

Styles: What's going on up there? Who the heck is attacking the Detached Narrator!

{Wouldn't YOU like to know! Ha! Oh, what's this? The Narrator is regaining a vertical base! And he swipes my chair! WHAM! Van-ME-anator! And he crashes to the deck!}

Style: OH MY GOD! I know who that is! And he's EXTREME!



[Long pause]

{Uh... could I get a ref up here, please?}

GR: Where are you?

[We're up here in these square brackets, Generic Ref...]

GR: Gotcha!

[Do I have to narrate him up here?]

{It couldn't hurt...}

[*sigh*... Fine, here goes. A few seconds pass before...]


{What a stunning upset!! I've pinned the Detached narrator and I'm now the NEWWWW...}

MA: HEY! That's MY job, Bracket-Boy! Here is your winner... and NEWWWWWW "Calorifically Challenged" Champion... THE COMMENTATOR!

Styles: OH MY GOD! Was that an official match? Will that decision stand?

[We cut to the BigBOSS. Eagle-eyed viewers will note the "BASKETBRAWL" poster behind him and deduce it's some re-used footage. Drunk viewers might be fooled, though...]

BB: Sure, why not?

[Cut back to ringside.]

{Say it, Styles...Go on, I know you want to!}

GBH: Duh. Oh my. Um. God. Hee. Line stealing.

Styles: Quit it, GBH! Call the match, willya...

GBH: Duh. What match?

[A wide shot shows the ring is empty.]

Styles: Oops. I think we goofed.

GBH: Duh. Yur. Wonder who. Umm. Won?

{I did, of course!}

[Quit gloating! Take THIS!]

{OW! The Detached narrator blindsided me! He's beating me like a red-headed stepchild! Stop it! Sore loser! OW! This is brutal!}

GBH: Hee.

MM: Coming up next we will see if Josh formerly of Totally Face can defeat Coma in a Potatoes and Gravy bowl match. But there is some bad news. Apparently Kay Fabe is not here yet?

SW: Sure she is. We filmed something--

[Scotty's mic is suddenly cut off.]

MM: it's very mysterious how Kay Fabe isn't yet in the building tonight. Nobody's seen her all day long.

SW: (Shouting off mic) MONROE! I TOLD YOU ME AND HER--

MM: Shut up Scotty! (He slaps his forehead in frustration.) So while we are waiting for the ring to be covered in plastic lets take you back to some footage shot earlier today.

[Footage cuts back to Josh Massive Man talking to J. C. Long backstage. The words "PRE-TAPED’ appear clearly at the bottom of the screen.]

MMR1: So JC I understand you wish to get in touch with your inner JOSHITUDE?

JC: I wanna get in touch with anything that gets me back on T.V. Do you understand that I am the reigning North East Asian Champion.

MMR1: That’s all well and good but you have to realize that here I am the Karate Master and you are the Karate Student, I am Chuck Norris and you are Jonathan Brandis, I am the Priest and you are the Alter Boy. So bend over…..(pause for shook value) and pick up those slides.

JC: What is this???

MMR1: Those are the greatest form of JOSHITUDE known to man…next to me of course. Those are slides from NAGAM 16 when I…MASSIVE MAN RENDITION FIRST, took on the then OWCTM Billy Polar and all of his henchmen to neither capture the greatest prize in parody sports entertainment only to have it snatched from my grasp by Nurse Heidi.

JC: So what do I do with it???

MMR1: What do you normally do with slides??? Look at them, study them. And then watch me show Coma what JOSHITUDE is all about, when I defeat him later tonight in the Potatoes and Gravy Bowl Match.

[Josh starts to leave.]

JC: Well good luck.

MMR1: I don’t need luck… I have JOSHITUDE. ( Josh holds up a Baseball bat with JOSHITUDE written across it and he exits. Fade back to Announce table)


MM: Do you always have to shout like like?

MS: No sometimes I can be quiet a soft spoken man. BUT RIGHT NOW ITS TIME TO WRESTLE

SW: So wait let me get this straight if JOSHITUDE makes you more like Josh, what does Gatorade make you more like?

MM: From what I hear it makes you more like Brandon and DSB.

[The TinyTron goes to an AOL log on page where "LOAD" keeps flashing before it says "LOG ON HAS FAILED" then Eddie B. plays Aerosmith’s "The Other Side" and out struts Josh Massive Man.]

MA: Entering first the former good guy now bad Massive Man Rendition First.

[Josh jumps in the ring shoves the Masked Announcer out and grabs a mic]

SW: Wait a second, where did we get a mic? I was told all mics were banned from the building due to fans dreading the possibility of another Trey Vincent shoot.

MMR1: Coma due to the fact that I was booked in the match, I will wrestle you. And have no fear I will go easy on you but be fully aware that JOSHITUDE is not something to be taken lightly. I do however have one demand, you will put your Up Yo' Ass Sucka Championship on the line because if I am gonna waste my time on a jobber like you who has major mental problems I am gonna get something out of it. And to all you MASSIVEMANAHOLICS out there rest assured I will use this match as a stepping stone to the OWTTM’s

[He drops the mic.]


MM: First off I don’t think the word fair will even come close to this match. But as far as how he will do I think it all rides on the status of his opponent.

[Eddie B. Plays a Ramones Medley and Coma comes out like a dog dragging his butt on the ramp with both the Up Yo' Ass Sucka title and the Intercontinental Cruiserweight "This Is Not A Championship Belt But It's Close" title in his mouth.]

SW: I don’t know about you but judging from his opponent, I think Massive Man will win this one hands down.

[The Generic Referee grabs the title in Coma’s mouth and Coma begins pulling back.[

MM: Looks as though we are going to start things off with a test of strength. Funny I don’t recall The Generic Ref being on the card.


MM: Nevertheless being bored with the match Massive Man has taken it upon himself to lean against the ring post. Oh my gosh he has just slipped on a Potato and is flat on his back.


MM: As did I.

SW: Looks like Coma finally noticed that Massive Man is down, so he lets go of the titles which sends The Generic Ref flying out of the ring.

MM: Coma seeing Massive Man down he’s going for the cover…no wait he is going over to sniff Josh’s crotch.


MM: I wonder if this is some bizarre tactic to get Josh’s guard down?

SW: Well lets just ask him remember he never gave his headset back. Coma is this some sort of weird tactic you’ve cooked up?

Coma: Poink! Fred Savage deserves an Emmy for Cooking raw feet Nuff!

SW: Well I think that says it all.

MM: Wow! Josh just slipped on another potato he is flat on his back and not moving.


MM: Coma is going up top. He’s looking to hit The Severe Tire Damage. He goes for it and NO Josh moves out of the way causing Coma to hit face first into the Gravy.


MM: But look a Potato has gotten lodged in Coma’s mouth. And now he’s choking.

SW: Well look at that Josh is gonna help him out with the Heimlich Maneuver, or he’s gonna hit him with an over the head suplex. And he chooses the suplex. And now he goes for the pin.

MM: But there is no ref.


SW: He is outside the ring trying on Coma’s belts.

MM: This can’t be good for Josh.

SW: Good for Josh? Did you see where those belts were.

MM: Anyway Josh is now in control of this match.

MS: What gives you that impression?

MM: For starters the fact that Coma is turning blue and is nearly in a coma. Hey your not shouting anymore.


MM: Josh is climbing the turnbuckle and is going for yes the KREW Drop. Coma Rolls out of the way and Massive Man Rendition First gets an ass full of potato.

SW: Despite what anyone tells you and ass full of potato is not the same as a gerbil.

MM: What!

SW: So I’ve heard.

MM: Oh well the Generic Ref is back in the ring and this match is finally under way.

[ding, ding]


MM: He’s up to 7 and Coma is almost fully up right, some how this man child has eaten the potato that was blocking his air way.

SW: He is bent over and breathing, I know a couple guys who could have a good ole time with that.

MM: What is wrong with you?

SW: I wasn’t breast fed as a child.


MM: I see here in my notes that he calls that move " THE LEAP OF FATE".

SW: Well I call it to hot for T.V.

MM: Ref has made the 3 count.


(The Other Side by Aerosmith plays)

MS: And fans, don't forget the MOST ANTICIPATED interview of ALL-TIME. That's right, BOB's newest arrivals, SPACEDUCK and SPACECOP! Coming up SOON!

Styles: Well, fans, its now time for the Worlds Smallest Battle Royal. And I'll be joined in this match by...who? They're not even commentators!

Mr. X: Who sez we ain't commentators?

Styles: Are you saying you ARE commentators?

Mr. X: I ain't sayin nuthin.

The Fire Chief: How. This match should be all shit, no sugar.

Styles: You can't say that on television!

TFC: What you mean paleface. Me no understand. Me too busy making heapum money at casino!

Styles: Great, so I've been joined by a wannabe mobster in Mr. X and The Fire Chief, who apparently is making money off of whitey.

StreetMime II: ...

Styles: I didn't forget you StreetMime.

SMII: ...!

Styles: Sorry! StreetMime II! Let's get to the match already!

["Golden Showers" began to blast and the fans, the members of the Urination, filled the floor and was running wild in BOB once again. He stepped out in yellow and more yellow, with his bleached yellow hair and walked to the ring.]

MA: This is the Worlds Smallest Battle Royal. Introducing first, from Yellow Springs, Michigan. Weighing 275 pounds. He is Urine!

TFC: Big Chief Pee Pee look mighty strong man.

Styles: This should be quite a match, huh X?

Mr. X: Match? What's a match?

[Randy Handi starts walking out even though his music hasn't started playing yet. Whatever it is. Suddenly, the end of "Civil War" by Guns N Roses starts playing for no apparent reason.]


[Suddenly, Randy was in a pair of roller skates. He began to skate down to the ring, but a bunch of marbles were in his way.]


[Randy flipped upside down and landed on his face!]


[BWAHAHAHAHAHA. That was funny.]

Styles: You are getting out of control. What did Randy do to you?

[Nobody can do anything to me Styles. I'm untouchable! It's so boring here Styles. Do you seriously just expect me to do introductions? Please! I've got to entertain myself. Hell, if it weren't for me there'd be no you, so stop complaining. I'm the BOB Calorifically Challenged Champion, don't forget. Undefeated!]

Styles: Perhaps you need to check your script.

[Sure, it'd be easy to edit this paragraph, but it's more confusing to all the readers this way. And I am a heel. So boo me. BOOOO.]

Styles: Well fans, Randy has taken off the skates and apparently will have to fight this match barefoot. Can you believe what Detached Narrator did, Mr. X?

Mr. X: What you talkin about?

Styles: Didn't you just see what the Detached Narrator did to Randy?

Mr. X: I see a lot a things.

TFC: Big Chief Cow Patty go down in heapum.

SMII: ............ ....... .......

Styles: Hold that thought StreetMime.

["Generic Luchardore Entrance Music" begins playing.]

MA: From Suicida, Mexico! He is Insano, Mano!

TFC: Little Chief Insane Hands?

SMII: ...

Styles: Good observation StreetMime. Did you know Insano Mano translates to Insane Hands, X?

MX: I know a lotta things. Fahgettaboutit.

[And then "Panflute Medley 2001 (Wick-Wick-Whack Remix)" began playing, bringing out Xamfir and his new valet, Jeannie.]

MA: And finally, weighing a lot by the looks of him, from Cloudydale, accompanied by Jeannie, Xamfir!

TFC: Little Chief Fire Water Belly look big.

Styles: How much do you think he weighs?

MX: How you know he weighs anything? What you implying pig?

SMII: ...

MX: Hey oh, oh, hey, no need to make dis personal paleface.

TFC: How. Believe that was my line.

MX: What was your line?

TFC: Last line.

MX: Don't know what you're talking about.

[Ding, ding, ding.]

Styles: And here we go. This pay-per-view just gets more bizarre by the second. Insano Mano hits a hoodanconrana on Xamfir! Mr. X, why don't you do your job and tell the fans the rules of this match?

MX: Rules? What are rules?

SMII: ... ........ ........ .........

Styles; Well at least ONE of you is willing to help out here. Randy has Urine in the corner. Oh man. Here comes the Meah! OH Urine is down and flopping around like a dead fish.

TFC: Him look like my elder after night at bar.

Styles: But Urine is pissing-up! The fans are electric. Randy punches him. He no-sells it. Another punch. Urine no sells it again. And now he's rubbing wildly at his crotch! Oh man, he just pointed at Randy. This is getting serious! Urine with a punch. Punch. Punch, Whip to the ropes. Kick to the thigh. Clothesline! Randy falls to the floor! OH MY GOD! Randy's been eliminated! Did you see that?

TFC: Me see many things.

MX: You didn't just steal my line, did yous? Your muddas a Nava-HO!

TFC: Me no know what paleface speak of.

MX: You muther....I'll whack you the fuck out!....I mean..umm. My God, THIS MAN'S APPENDIX IS ABOUT TO BURST!

Styles: OH MY GOD! Put that knife away X! Fire Chief? Where did you get that screwdriver?

TFC: What? My car key?

SMII: ...... ...... .......... .... ........

[Everyone sheds a tear. Yes, even Mr. X, though he will deny it later.]

Styles: Man. That's so true. Can we all get along for the remainder of this match? Urine charges at Xamfir!

Xamfir: Man, I wish he'd miss me and fly over the top rope.

Jeannie: Yes master.

[Urine misses Xamfir and flies over the top rope.]

Styles: Urine has been TOTALLY ELIMINATED!

TFC: Little Chief Fire Water Belly cheater.

SMII: .... .......

Styles: Well, if you had a wishmistress, would you leave her backstage?

SMII: .....

[Everyone laughs.]

Styles: It's a good thing this is pay-per-view. Andrew Dice Mime II here. I hope you fans are enjoying this. It's whacky! It's BOB!

Fan Near the Announce Desk: Not particularly old boy.

Styles: Anyway...its down to Xamfir and Insano Mano! Mano with head up top! Oh my. A flipping moonsault shooting star springboard somersault corkscrew dragon driver sleeper fee fi mo manny arm bar! That was EXTREME! Oh, and there is a fire water--

TFC: Fire water? Where um fire water?

Styles: PLANCHA! Quite an offensive showing here by Insano Mano.

MX: Here, there, who's to say what's what?

SMII: ..... ...

Xamfir: I wish Insano Mano would go up to the top rope, and then I'd push him off the top rope...through a table. But not just any table. A table with a pirahna tank on top.

IM: Que?

Jeannie: Yes master.

Styles: Insano Mano heads up to the top rope! But he's pulling a Flair! And Xamfir pushes him! OH MY GOD! RIGHT THROUGH A PIRAHNA TANK ON TOP OF A TABLE! INSANO MANO is down and...hurt.

MA: The winner of the match, Xamfir!

TFC: Where razor fish come from?

Xamfir: Woohoo! Ten percent pay raise!

Styles: Fans, keep paying for our pay-per-view. We'll be right back, most likely with a whole new set of announcers. If you're lucky.

MM: Okay, where are we? Is everyone on the same page? Man, this show is disjointed...

SW: That'll teach that lazy-ass BigBOSS to pawn his work off to four freelance bookers...

[Cut to the BigBOSS, standing before that "BasketBrawl" poster again.]

Badly-dubbed BigBOSS: I heard that, Whatbody...

[Back to the ring.]

GBH: Hee. Scotty in trouble.

SW: Yeah, I'M scared... Last I heard, he was hiding out in Dominica to avoid the IRS...

Dennis: Jolly good idea, that....

MA: If I might interject... *ahem*... It is now time for the SPECTACULAR SPOTFEST! Introducing at this time... our CELEBRITY JUDGES! And could I PLEASE have ANOTHER MIC as this one IS PLAYING up! *pause* Thank you. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you... WILLIAM SHATNER!

[A funked-up, techno remix of the Star Trek theme is cued. Big Bill Shanter enters with his fingers plugged into his ears. Mild pop, mainly from a gaggle of geeky fanboys. Behind them, anm even GEEKIER fanboy holds up a sign reading "Captain Picard would kick your ass, Shanter!"... There's always one, huh?]

MA: Secondly... From the rock band Motorhead... LEMMY!


NH: Oh, get out from under the desk, Scoot... just because he gave you a guitar shot a few months ago...

SW: With a Flying-V guitar! Those things HURT!

[All further dialogue is drowned out by "The Ace of Spades". A quick shot of Eddie B's console shows him turning all the dials to "11". Somewhere, Spinal Tap are preparing to sue... Meanwhile, The Flunky guides the shambling rocker to the ring.]

MM: ....!

SW: ....?

MM: ....SAID "LOUD, ISN'T IT?"! Oh, good... it's stopped.


NH: Whoops. Looks like Scottys' seat was too close to the speaker...

GBH: Duh. Der ace of spades. Hee. Der ace of spades...

MA: Next up... He's still a HUGE rockstar, despite not having recorded an album since Michael Jackson still had an attached nose... AXL ROSE!

["November Rain" plays for awhile as we focus on the entranceway. From behind the curtain, we suddenly hear an aggrieved voice instructing us to "Turn that pussy-ass faggot-song OFF!". It's quickly faded out and replaced by "Welcome to the Jungle"... only then does Mr Rose grace us with his presence. He pauses to punch out a camera-aiming fan on his way down the aisle.]

Dennis: Gosh, Axl Rose is late for a gig... Some things NEVER change, ay wot?


MM: You think we should tell Axl the planted fan he was supposed to hit is on the OTHER side of the aisle?

NH: Like he'd CARE...

MA: And finally... the stars of the *snort* hit series "Joanie Loves Chachi"... SCOTT BAIO and ERIN MORAN!

[There's blank silence and no music... what, you thought Eddie B would have the theme song to "Joanie Loves Chachi" in his collection? Eventually, he performs a minor miracle by cueing the theme song to "Charles in Charge" instead. (A crappy, tinny MIDI version ripped off the internet, but a brave effort nonetheless.) Scott and Erin enter to general indifference and join the other faded celebrities at the table.]

MS: What a line-up of FABULOUS CELEBRITIES! You'll only see celebrities like this on BOB, folks!

NH: Because no other promotion would hire these washed-up losers!

MA: And now... The participants! Introducing first, from a moldy, decrepit crypt in Cloudydale, California... LITTLE GOOD!

[The Norwegian National Anthem plays as Little Good slouches on in... Random play is a fickle beast at times. Little Good hangs his trenchcoat on the ringpost and does some "Creature of the Night" posing for the official BOB photographer. Well, The Flunky with a polaroid. Little Good actually comes off more like a "Spazzmo of the Night", but once again, points for effort...]

MA: And his opponent... from a moldy, decrepit trailer in Banzai Falls, Georgia... KAMIKAZIE KEN!

[The BOB fans instinctively look to the rafters as Kens randomly picked theme music (A techno version of the "Lemmings" video game theme) plays.]

NH: Lots of techno on Eddies' playlist tonight...


[The catchy melody is suddenly supplemented with a drumroll from the entranceway. Bruce, The Evil New Zealander and Unoriginal Man appear, pushing a large, brightly-painted cannon. It's been loaded with Kamikaze Ken.]

MM: Oh, my God in heaven...

NH: He can NOT be serious!



Little Good: (Noticing the cannon) Oh, bloody hell...

KK: READY! *crowd pops* AIM! *Bigger pop* FIRE!!!!! *crowd poBOOOOOOMMMMSMASHBANGTHUDCRACBANGBANGbangbang.....tinkle*

SW: Hey, that cleared my ears! I can hear again!


MS: That was INSANE! But the celebrity judges are scoring it! I think this match is under way!

Caption: SCORES FOR KEN: 9.2 6.8 9.5 9.6 9.8

MM: That's a great start for Kamikazie Ken! Of course, given that he's knocked himself cold, he might have a bit of trouble following up...

Dennis: I don't think Little Good is in tip-top shape, either...

[A shot of the ring shows Ken lying in the shattered remains of a ringpost. Little Good is stumbling around the ring, shaking off the impact of a high-velocity luchadore. He eventually trips over his own feet and falls head-first into Kens' 'nads. Oops, pardon my dueling apostrophes...]

Dennis: Ouch! Right in the tea and crumpets, by jove!


Caption: SCORES FOR LITTLE GOOD: 7.2 8.1 6.9 5.8 6.0

SW: They counted THAT as a spot? That's not a spot! That's a comedy bit! Could we have gotten WORSE judges?

[Cut to the backstage area. Lined up are StreetMime, Coma, Unoriginal Man, The Fire Chief and Xenomorph. They hold up scorecards.]

Scorecards: " " Poink Poink Heap Big Points William Shatner RULES!

[Xenomorph is geeking out at the thought of appearing on the same card as Shatner, of course... He'll need plastic surgery to remove that dorky grin!]

SW: Okay, so we COULD have gotten worse judges...

MM: Cheaper ones, too...

GBH: Duh. Der ace of spades...

MM: Oh, shut up!


Styles: Okay, that joke is officially done to death...

NH: Good, I felt like Steve Austin doing that "WHAT?" thing...

MS: LOOK! Kamikazie Ken is GETTING UP! Kamikazie Ken is showing his incredible intestinal fortitude! Couple that with his typical lack of common sense and his complete disregard for a shred of personal safety, and you've got a very, VERY dangerous opponent in the ring! He rolls out of the ring and is hunting for something under the apron... What the heck is that?

SW: Oh man... It's an ACME Extra-Large Slingshot... right out of the Roadrunner cartoons! And he's attaching it to the top turnbuckle! If IO was Little Good, I'd be getting the hell out of here! *thinks* Well, actually, if I was Little Good, I'd be an underpaid jobber with a silly accent... *thinks again* ...Who's bonking Sarah the Jobber Slayer... Man, I wish I WAS Little Good.

NH: Scotty?

SW: Yeah?

NH: Be quiet. Ken's got his slingshot firmly attached to the ringpost... he loads himself! *Twangy sounds* Little Good regains a vertical base...

Dennis: Chocks away! TALLY-HO!


All: OOOH!

Caption: SCORES FOR KEN: 8.4 2.7 8.8 9.0 8.6

Axl: Lemmy, what the BLEEP are you BLEEPing doing? Are you BLEEPing stoned?

Lemmy: (Randomly pushing buttons on his scoring console) Huh? Wha'? Where's my BLEEPing band gone, man?

Shatner: Gentlemen, please... (pause) we have to... (Longer pause) stay fo...(huge pause)...cused!

Scott Baio: Yeah, whatever.

Erin Moran: What he said...


Styles: OH MY GOD! Someone just attacked Scott Baio! It's... It's... HENRY WINKLER?

SW: Th' Hell?

Henry Winkler: Heyyyyyy... Sit on THIS, you ungrateful little punk! You think you'd ever have gotten your own show if it hadn't been for me? (THUMP!) And do I even get a Christmas card these days?

NH: Well, this is unexpected... Uh-oh, Erin Moran just bitchslapped Fonzie out of his boots! And now Scott Baio is taking it too him!

MS: Oh, no! Our crack security team...

Dennis: The Flunky?

MS: Yes, The Flunky... has been unable to restrain Tony Danza from charging the ring! And HE'S going after Scott Baio! My GOD! Two washed-up, hasbeen sit-com actors are about to collide! The Minor-Powers EXPLODE!

SW: Hold the phone! Danzas' been intercepted by a group of wrestlers! And they're not even ours! Who the hell are those guys?

[Beats me, Scotty... Although from my Disembodied Announcers Booth, I can tell you that one is wearing a T-shirt that reads "I Am Not A Retard!", another is carrying a monkey and a third looks like... Good Lord, is that Richard Pryor? It IS! Anyway, they swarm Tony Danza and begin beating him like the proverbial Government Mule. (Although one sets up a table, wraps it in barbed-wire and proceeds to chokeslam himself through it. Ick!]

The Not-A-Retard Guy: Flash, what are you doing?

"Flash": (bleeding profusely) Just staying consistent, man... I'm on pay-Per-View! I HAVE to do this! It's in my contract, dammit!

[Meanwhile, Tony Danza tries to fight back... only to have a wrestler hit him with a sledgehammer!]

Championship-Belt-Wearing-Cowboy: HEY! What are you trying to do, get us a DUD rating?

Sledgehammer-Guy: No way man... I'm Tha Realist! Four stars MINIMUM, baby!

Caption: SCORES 6.5

Axl: Lemmy, willya quit pushing the buttons! F-BLEEP!

Dennis: Gosh, now we've got a bit of biffo between Lemmy and Axl! This match is getting out of hand, what?

NH: I'll say! Considering both Ken and Little Good are still out cold...

Shatner: Don't worry... (pause)... I'll... (Pauuuuusssssssseeeee)... settle things... (Interminable pause) ...down!

[Shatner enters the ring, swiping a microphone from the announce table en route. The PA begins to play a karaoke-styled backing track... and Big Bill sings as only he can...]

Shatner: Well picture yourself... (Pause)... On a boat on a... (Pause) River. With tangerine trees... (pause).. and marmalade skies.


[Shatner inhales and begins the next line, before...]

Lemmy: GET HIM!!!

[Clive goes flying as everyone in the immediate vicinity charges the ring. Thirty action-packed, though confusingly-filmed seconds later, we cut to a commercial.]

The year that was….


What will be the future?

Who knows. A New Year. The same crap.

Happy 2003 from everyone in BOB.

["Can u dic it sukkkkaaaaaaaaaa?" an annoyingly familiar voice shouted in a pre-taped introduction. Bringing out, none other than, XXXtreme Machine. The crowd looks at him then returns to their blissful indifference, sipping on their drinks or biting their fingernails as he walks down the aisle.]

Styles: This one should be short.

SW: Indeed.

MA: Introducing first in this random run-in squash match...

XM: u didnt say tht tell me u didnt jus say thta. shut upo bitch. im haqrdkore.!

MA: XXXtreme Machine.

Styles: Oh no. I hope he's not going to try the Xxxtremearoonie.

MM: Looks like you've got your wish.

[Xamfir's Jeannie suddenly appears.]

Jeannie: Did somebody say wish?

MM: Umm. No.

Jeannie: Oh. Damn.

[She vanishes.]

MM: Didn't this place used to have a semblance of reality?

GBH: Dur. Heehee.

MM: Where did YOU come from?

GBH: My mommy's hallway.

SW: And there is the XXXtremearoonie.

XM: owwww my back

MM: I guess the mat was too rough for his sensitive skin?

NH: What a loser.

["American Bare Ass" by Adult Pop begins blaring. Bringing out The Undietaker! He strolls to the ring.]

MA: Andhisopponenttheundietaker.

SW: Whoa. I've never seen Masked Announcer move that fast before.

NH: I guess he values his undies tonight.

MM: And we're ready to get this squash started.

XM: wil u suht up

[Ding, ding, ding...the bell has SPOKEN. Let the squash begin!]

XM: damm y is evry1 agenst me

NH: Oh. Undietaker almost kicked XXXtreme Machine's head off!


NH: I guess I'll do the play-by-play. It's MY turn now. Undietaker tosses Machine to the corner. Oh, he's pummeling him.

Undietaker: *Riiiiiiiiip* Undies....are....MINE.....YEEEEEEES!

Announcers: EWWWWWW.

NH: Look at the skid marks!

SW: Those are hideous! Yellow, brown, red...

NH: Yuck. Undietaker picks up Machine. It's the Undietaker 69 Drop! This one is all over.

MM: What about the run-ins? Can this match end before the random run-ins happen?

NH: Let's see. Undietaker makes the cover! One...two.....OH NO. Loony Lenny just pulled off the Undietaker!

MM: How does somebody in a strait-jacket manage to 'pull' someone off of somebody else?

SW: Undietaker 69 Drop for Lenny. And Lenny couldn't resist since he's in a strait-jacket.

NH: And there go Lenny's undies.

SW: Are those rubber undies?

MM: I don't even want to know. And Loony Lenny has been taken care of.

NH: Undietaker makes the cover on XXXtreme Machine. Again.

[Everyone looks toward the entryway. Nobody is coming...]

Crowd: ONE!



NH: What is the Generic Ref doing?

MM: Now THIS is a slow count.

Crowd: COUNT!

SW: This one is all over. Except for the counting.

[Generic Ref begins to raise his arm up in super-slow motion, as if he's underwater.]

SW: Damn, now this is entertaining. Somebody missed the cue backstage and the ref is trying to cover up. In the dumbest fashion I've ever seen.

NH: Well it's not like Undietaker is getting up to stall or anything.

Undietaker: Hey. I don't go against the plans!


Undietaker: Oh, you think I won't, don't you?

NH: That's right! I don't!

Undietaker: Well watch this.

[Undietaker gets up. The Ref, still going in superslow motion, doesn't even acknowledge Undietaker releasing the cover. Undietaker gets behind Generic Ref and grabs him by the waistline. Rip. Rip. Rip.]

Undietaker: Damn, those are some strong undies. They will help my quest to take over the world. Give me your undies! Until I have your undies, I will!

[Undietaker begins twirling around Generic Ref in a circle, all the while GR's hand is still moving in slow-motion. Undietaker spins faster and faster and faster in a circle, until he eventually spins so fast you can make out either one and they look like a tornado.

Undietaker: Before this night is over, I want his undies IN MY HAND!

[Suddenly, the spinning stops. Undietaker drops the ref and tries to get his balance.]

MM: Will Undietaker go down?

[Sir Hungalot FINALLY runs down to interfere. Undietaker looks at his invisible watch.]

SW: OH NO. If Undietaker takes The Big Sir's undies, it could be FATAL!"

Undietaker: Do you have any idea how late you are boy?

Undietaker: *Riiiiiiiiiip* Undies....are.....MINE........YEEEEEES!

NH: Oh, and now Sir Hungalot tastes the 69 Undie Drop.

SW: Hungalot didn't even get to have a line!

NH: And he tosses Hungalot out of the ring. He covers XXXtreme Machine again.

SW: Uh oh. He's shaking his head. I think he's impatient with the slow count.

Crowd: TWO!

Undietaker: Come on, come on...

XM: Is it over yet?

Undietaker: No. Give him about a minute.

XM: u no ur body is raelly nice

Undietaker: Oh no you didn't just say that!

XM: this is n imtinate momennt

NH: Whoa. Cut that ring mic! We're hearing way too much in there.

SW: Whoa. douja is in the ring!

MM: And he's got the biggest bong I've ever seen in my life!

SW: Look out Undietaker! He may hit you with it!

douja: Yeah, riiiight.

[douja takes a hit.]

MM: Whoa! douja just blew smoke in Undietaker's eyes!

Undietaker: Ahhhh!

SW: (Singing) Smoke-gets-in-your-EYES....

MM: Oh no. Scotty's singing. This PPV is out of hand!

NH: The Chronic Neck Pain! douja's piledriver thing! Undietaker falls to the mat.

SW: An arm fell across XXXtreme Machine. Who is STILL down from that 69 Undie Drop from about 10 minutes ago.

MM: Wasn't that convenient.

SW: Thank you, come again.


MM: It looks like the Generic Ref's arm is on the way down.

SW: Finally.

NH: And douja is stealing Undietaker's stolen undies! Man, Undietaker just can't get those undies he needs to take over the world with that satellite of his.

SW: Think he can make a bong out of undies?

MM: If anyone can, douja can.


[This one's over. Ding, ding, ding.]

MA: The winner of the match, the Undietaker!

MM: Well, it took Undietaker a little longer than I'm sure he would've liked....but I guess XXXtreme Machine provided a bigger challenge than most expected.

NH: *Snort*

SW: Yeah, Monotone. That's it. Bwahahaha.

NH: douja's gone.

MM: Yeah, he usually is.

NH: No, I meant he's left the ring.

MM: Ohhh, right. Yes. But douja has made a big statement here on Pay-Per-View.

[Undietaker sits up! He stands up to some polite clapping. "Papa Don't Preach" by Kelly Osbourne plays as he leaves.]

Tom: Excuse us, excuse us, important bots coming through.

MM: Uh oh. This can only mean one thing.

NH: A MSTie is about to break out?

Crow: Beat it honey.

NH: Gladly.

Tom: Hello loyal iAd fans. It's Tom and Crow, tonight joined by Comabot.

Comabot: Nurf! Quasars are in the Tribble-pen! Is Mr. Fluffy armed? FIRE! Poink

Tom: And let's head out to the parking lot for this next contest.

Crow: It's gonna be Oil Wrestling In A Telephone Booth Match. And BOB is so pathetic, there are no women involved in this match.

Tom: Umm. Are we going to switch outside?

Crow: Sadly, we have. I have my trusty event binoculars and somewhere in all that fuzz on the TinyTron, I believe I see, yes, I see a telephone booth.

Tom: Somebody better call standards and practices and let them know BOB isn't following any.

Crow: Is that Studnuts in the phonebooth already?

Tom: I can't believe Studs has to be put through this humiliation. If only Trey Vincent hadn't gambled away his share of bookership, this place would be run right damnit!

Crow: And here comes Da Sassy Bitch. A man who really puts ASS into everything he does. And puts himself into every


Tom: How did he hear us?

Crow: That's not possible. He must be starring in "Good Ears, Bad Denials." Well, Da Sassy Bitch is heading towards the phonebooth and I've never seen a man smile wider. Not even when I gave Seth a brand new trenchcoat for his birthday.

DSB: Well, well, well. Da Sassy Bitch is coming out of retirement. All oiled up and ready to come in there with you, Studnuts.

Tom: And Da Sassy Bitch enters the phone booth.

Crow: Poor Studs.

Tom: Wait a minute! Squint! Squint!

Crow: Hey! That's Steve Studnuts! He's not in the booth.

Tom: And he doesn't look oiled up either!

Crow: Oh NO! Steve Studnuts just knocked the phone booth over!

Studnuts: The fuck, you think I'm getting in there with THAT? *Pffffft*

[Studs walks away.]

Comabot: Running Dog has heap big cucumber in loincloth... explode the rhubarb and I'll call you in the morning. Gleep. And, I might add... poink.

Tom: Comabot brings up an interesting point. Who is the gay one in the phonebooth with?

DSB: I'm not GAY! But I do find myself trapped…um…HELP? Could this get any worse?

Other Guy In Phone Booth: I am.

DSB: You am what?


DSB: Heeeeeellllllllp.

[Backstage, it's time for the most anticipated interview OF ALL TIME. Mark Shill, needless to say, is there.]

MS: Spaceduck! Spacecop! What are your thoughts on coming to BOB?

=<>: FUCK YOU.


[They wander away]


SW: Mike, we're about to get this next one underway. Here's the Masked Announcer!

["POP" by N*Sync starts to play as the Masked Announcer coughs out his microphone.]

MA: Coming in at a combined weight of what they'd weigh, both from their respective mothers. The Global and Foot Foot Champion..."The Next Big Thingee" Dustbuster Boy with his partner one 1/2 of the Four-Play Tag Champions, "Totally Packaged" Jim from the KSK!

[The fans all dance to N*Sync as the pair come out. They look around at the disturbing sight of the fans dancing to N*Sync before making their way to the ring.]

SW: Look at Jim, he's Totally Packaged!

NH: I'll say.

MM: Well, go on.

NH: Go on what?


NH: Look at Jim, he's Totally Packaged!

MM: Amen, sister!

Masked Announcer: And their opponents coming in from sperm meeting eggs, at weight that would most likely be theirs combined, accompanied by God, UNORTHODOXO and Pope John Paul II!

["When I'm 64" plays over the P.A. and all the old people begin to do the monkey. A ray of light comes down, picks up a chair and hits an old lady with it. Immediately the rest sit down as the duo head down to the ring.]

MM: This should be a great match!

NH: Really?

MM: What? Oh sorry. I was about to light my cigarette.

NH: I didn't know you smoked.

MM: Only after sex.

NH: You haven't had sex.

(Mike Munroe looks at his cigarette and throws it away.)

MM: Oh, right. Riiiiiiight…


SW: This match has started with UNORTHODOXO and The Next Big Thingee, Dustbuster Boy! They're trading punches.

[Pan to ring.]

UNORTHODOXO: You got any uppercuts?

Dustbuster Boy: Fish.


[Pan to Whatbody.]

SW: Dammit, fight!

MM: Now they start throwing punches. Lefts and right and stuff. This is exciting.

NH: I think the Pope is making eyes at me.

MM: Well, you wouldn't wanna turn him down. He can have you burn in Hell y'know?

NH: Who said I was gonna turn him down?

SW: Dustbuster Boy with a powerbomb on UNORTHODOXO and man does he sell it!

NH: His diaper is kinda cute.

SW: Dustbuster Boy starts stomps on him and UNORTHODOXO has sold it so well he lands outside the ring!

NH: His hat is nice, too.

MM: How do you bounce over the top rope from a stomp?

SW: Shut-up and call it, Munroe.

MM: Dustbuster Boy in the ring and leaps over the top rope FOR A SUICIDA TOE STAMP ON UNORTHODOXO!

SW: That was suicida?

MM: You know the deal with that, Whatbody. It makes it more death defying if we call it that.

NH: Maybe him and God would like a threesome.

(A beam of light comes down and Nurse Heidi begins to quiver and moan.)


MM: Holy Shit! I mean, sorry.

SW: Lift your feet, Munroe. Grab your snorkel.

MM: Dustbuster Boy just threw UNORTHODOXO into the ring but he's selling everything so much he rolled right across and off the other side!


NH: Yeah, ROLL IT!

SW: Sure.

MM: He rolls him into the ring again but he rolls out the other side! This could get monotonous, Scotty.

(Dustbuster Boy lifts UNORTHODOXO up and rolls into the ring himself with UNORTHODOXO in his arms.)

MM: Finally.

SW: Dustbuster Boy is dragging him into the Pope's corner and making him tag him. UNORTHODOXO doesn't want to. But the Pope makes the tag himself.

MM: Pope is in!


SW: What's this odd ray of light?

MM: The Pope puts a boot into the midsection of Dustbuster Boy and then DDTs him in the centre of the ring. The fans go wild.

(Cue the crickets)

SW: He moves pretty well for someone his age.

MM: Indeed. He turns the Next Big Thingee upside down and PILEDRIVER!


SW: I thought she was a Pope fan, wouldn't have guessed it though.

MM: There's a cover...!

SW: Dustbuster Boy escaped there and he makes his way crawling toward Jim. Who happens to be totally packaged!

MM: Amen, sister.

SW: Huh? The Pope drags him back by the ankle but the Next Big Thingee kicks him in the mouth. The Pope falls over and Dustbuster Boy crawls like he's never crawled before.

MM: And there's the hot tag! I mean tag, did I say hot tag?

SW: No. Jim enters the ring and clotheslines the Pope. UNORTHODOXO enters and gets dropkicked. UNORTHODOXO sells it so much he's.... LOOK OUT!

MM: Jim just dropkicked UNORTHODOXO through our announce table! That was cool.


SW: It was a great move, huh, Heidi?

MM: Jim and the Pope face to face in the ring. They begin to trade kicks. Shin kicks! THIS IS A MASSACRE!

SW: I can't watch Mike!

MM: Nor can I.

[I guess it's left to me then! In the ring the Pope and Jim continue to trade kicks! SHIN KICK! OH MY! I can't watch either.]

MA: Don't look at me. I cringe every time I see a shin kick.


SW: They stopped shin kicking. Jim kicks the Pope in the midsection and it looks like it could be over KREW KUTTER!

MM: No, the Pope pushed him into the corner. Jim is laid out in the corner. And here comes UNORTHODOXO!

SW: It's that move! I Hump Your Face Repeatedly!

MM: Dustbuster Boy should get in there and help him.

SW: The Pope is slapping his cheeks, this can only mean one thing!

MM: What's that heinous smell?

SW: Oh damn. That's rank.


SW: UNORTHODOXO moves just in time. The Pope moves in for the DOOKIE FACE ON JIM! DOOKIE FACE ON JIM!


SW: Huh?

MM: Sorry.

[Jim bursts out of the corner with turd all over his face just flipping out. HE punches UNORTHODOXO and he flies over the rope and through a piece of the BOB Extend-o-table.]

MM: Man, what a punch!

SW: Jim is not happy, Mike.

NH: Oh man. Where'd that cigarette go, Mike?

SW: Welcome back, Heidi.

NH: I've been to heaven now. I've seen God.

MM: Jim starts scratching at the Pope. A kick to the midsection and there's the KREW KUTTER ON POPE! KREW KUTTER!

SW: This could be over!

NH: Look!

[As Jim starts the cover a chair is picked up by a holy light and floats over. It cracks Jim across the head and then hits Dustbuster Boy across the noggin. Then it helps the Pope to his feet.]

MM: God just interfered!

SW: The referee won't DQ him coz he might go to Hell.



SW: That holy light just knocked out Mike Munroe!

NH: About time. The Pope looks down at the laid out Jim. I think we're gonna seen the Most Religifying Move in Sports Entertainment, Scotty!

SW: The Papal's Elbow?

NH: The Papal's Elbow!

[The Pope rips off his diaper and throws it into the crowd. Fans scatter as the heavy diaper splatters on the concrete.]

SW: Ew.

NH: Good God, he's been gifted!

SW: Sir Hungalot look out!

NH: He bounces off one set of ropes, leaps over Jim and then other set of ropes. He's near Jim and there's the sign of the cross...PAPAL'S ELBOW!

SW: 1...2...3! It's all over Heidi!

NH: The Pope has won and I think he, God and myself should go celebrate tonight!

SW: Indeed you should. The Pope has a microphone!

[The fans begin to hush as the Pope looks out over them all.]

PJP2: The Pope says this: if you feel like you can take the Pope on in this here squared circle then you'd better get worshipping. Worshipping Satan because praying can't help ya. With God in the Pope's corner the only thing you can do is lay down and take the 1..2..3! Testify!

[The fans cheer.]

PJP2: So the Pope is leaving an open challenge to everyone here in BOB. For a crucifixion match! First person to tie their opponent to the cross wins. If you think you can take the Pope on, then just bring it! The Pope says this: it's all about the titties and beer!

[The fans cheer again.]

SW: Don't these people realise he's not wearing pants?

NH: He's the Pope.



[Suddenly, "Queer" by Garbage begins playing. And out walks the Hottest Wiccan Lesbian In Parody Sports Entertainment Today! Kay Fabe is out to a HUGE pop from the Lesbian's marks in the crowd. She boldly strolls to the ring in a silk purple shirt, black mini-dress and black boots. She gets into the ring as The Pope leaves. The two stare at each other. Neither one has forgotten what happened on the last Chloroform. I know it involved singing, but otherwise, bleh. Not in the mood to go look it up.]

SW: I told you--


Crowd: Kay Fabe! Kay Fabe! Kay Fabe!

Styles: Where do you suppose Kay Fabe was? Why is she late?

SW: She's pregnant?


[Kay stood center ring and waited for the hundreds and hundreds of Kay Fabe's fans to quiet down. She then licked her full red lips, ever so slowly, driving all the male fans wild.]

KF: Finally….Kay Fabe….HAS…..COME.


KF: Now. It appears as though Kay Fabe has arrived at A Chance Would Be A Fine Thing, a little late. And now all the Lesbian's marks are upset. They're asking 'why, why, why?' They came to see Kay Fabe put on the black and white stripes…get down on my hands and knees, and do a job….

SW: Ohhhh, yeah! Hot Lesbo Action!

KF: To referee a Potatoes and Gravy Bowl Match. But it seems as though Kay Fabe missed that match. So Kay Fabe asks, where is the gravy? Where is the potatoes? Where are the little jabronies named Josh and Coma? KAY FABE DOESN'T CARE where the potatoes, the gravy and the jabronies are!

[Crowd pop.]

KF: All that matters is Kay Fabe is in BOB and Kay Fabe wants to put on her special referee T-shirt.

[Kay drops the microphone and takes off her purple silk shirt and drops it to the floor, revealing a tight, white T-shirt. Kay struggles to get the referee shirt over her breasts but eventually succeeds. Then…Sounds of cookie jars breaking fill the arena!]


[Out walks Stone Hot Steve Dawson! The United States Toaster Champion.]


MM: Oh, the crowd doesn't like this one bit!


NH: He just rudely gestured at the crowd!

SW: You sure his chin just isn't itchy?

NH: I doubt it.

Styles: Dawson is in the ring. OH MY GOD! This is gonna get EXTREME!

[Kay stares at Dawson in disbelief. In that funny, crooked, squinting way.]

KF: Who in the pink hell are you?

SHSD: Who? Who? Stone Hot--

KF: KAY FABE DOESN'T CARE WHO IN THE PINK HELL YOU ARE! The only thing that MATTERS is KAY FABE. Laying the carpet down on your chunky monkey ass!

[Crowd pop. Then, "If You're Happy And You Know It Clap Your Hands!" begins playing.]

Styles: OH MY GOD! Is "The Stereotyped Face" Justin Voss back in BOB?

[Out steps Hooker T! He's got the Pin Pull Title with him.]

SW: There's a BLOWA in the house. Heidi, you might want to cross your legs.

NH: Why would I want to do that?

[Hooker T stands on the ramp as The Flunky lights up a match and holds it behind Hooker who tries to raise the roof.]

SW: Good thing too, the roof was starting to sag. Hooker T sure is thoughtful. It's raining pretty heavy out tonight.

Styles: Yes, but where did he find that big pole?

SW: Man, that's almost as big as Heidi's vibrator.

[Hooker heads down the aisle and gets into the ring. He gets down on one knee, holding his Pin Pull Title. He calls for the mic.]

HT: I am the ONE TIME…Pin Pull Champion. And (he gets up) the Hooker Man says that he is gonna WHOOP your ass. Now can you shovel that….


KF: Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoa WHOA! Are you telling Kay Fabe that Stone Hot Steve Dawson and Hooker T are going to go ONE, ON, ONE, with each other?

SHSD: Who?

HT: You damn skippy, lezzy.

KF: Well then. How would you like to have the sexiest redheaded Wiccan lesbian in parody sports entertainment as the special guest referee?

[Crowd pops.]

Styles: And we've got our special guest referee!

SW: YES! Look, she's wearing a short skirt! Oh, where is my camera with the zoom lens?

[Dawson grabs the mic.]

SHSD: Hooker is just a little pissed off since Stone Hot Steve Dawson is the United States Toaster Champion, and he's just a lowly Pin Pull Champion.

SW: Oh, YEAH, because with nearly 50 titles, one is FAR more worthy than any of the other ones. Except THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! That one's HUGE!

NH: Thus, the ALL CAPS!

HT: The Hookerman's title is listed further up on the BOB page.

[Dawson grabs the mic.]

SHSD: Hookerman is just a little pissed off because his momma is so fat that when she gets on the scale, it says "to be continued."

Crowd: Oooooohhhhhh.

[Hooker takes back the mic.]

HT: Are you talking to me? Tell me you're talking to me! I see one other person here but I don't think you're talking to her.

[Dawson snatches the mic.]

SHSD: I said it!

Styles: Will Hooker have a comeback?

[Hooker grabs the mic.]

HT: Yo mama's so poor, she can't afford to pay attention!

SW: Oh no, we're not sinking this low for material are we? Rank outs?

Styles: It appears we are sinking that low. Surprised?

SW: Why is it are shows barely have any wrestling anymore? It's all stupid crap surrounded by the Masked Announcer's introductions and who won.

NH: That's sports entertainment...

[Dawson has the mic.]

SHSD: Well Stone Hot Steve Dawson says your momma is so poor she can't afford the o or the r!

Crowd: Who!

SHSD: His momma!

Crowd: Who?

SHSD: His poor MOMMA!

[Hooker steals the mic.]

HT: Well your momma's so stupid, she saw a yellow bus full of white kids and yelled "STOP THAT TWINKIE."

[The crowd let out an excited ohhhhhh. Dawson angrily grabbed the mic.]

SHSD: Well your momma's so fat, the animals at the zoo feed HER!

Crowd: Who?

SHSD: The animals!

Crowd: Who?

SHSD: Feed her!

Crowd: Who?

SHSD: His fat MOMMA!

Styles: Oh, Hooker T is reeling from that one!

[Hooker grabs the mic.]

SW: Hooker is coming back though!

HT: Your momma is so big that she can't wear an X jacket because helicopters kept landing on her back!

NH: Oh man, THAT's GOTTA hurt! Dawson is reeling now. Can he make a comeback?

Styles: It looks like Hooker ain't letting up! Huge block on the mic grab there. Dawson is DENIED!

HT: And your mama is so big, she whistles BASS!

SW: Hooker T has Dawson on the ropes now in this impromptu rank-out match with Kay Fabe as the special guest referee.

NH: Oh, Dawson gets the mic this time. He just ripped it away from the Hookerman.

SHSD: Well your momma is so poor I walked into your house and three roaches tripped me and tried to take my wallet!

Crowd: WHO?

SHSD: Roaches!

Crowd: Who?

[Hooker dove for the mic, but Dawson no-sold it!]

SHSD: And your momma is so poor she does drive by shootings on a BUS!

SW: Oh man, Dawson has regained control of the match now.

Styles: Hooker is looking mighty pissed. But Dawson is going for another shot!

SHSD: Your momma is so fat she uses a mattress for a tampon!

Crowd: Who?

SHSD: Your momma is so fat when she got hit by a bus, she said "Who threw that rock?"

Crowd: Who?

SHSD: And your sumbitch momma is so fat, when she went outside in a red dress, the neighborhood kids hollered "Hey KOOL-AID!"

SW: Wow. Hooker may be out of this one.

NH: It's a miracle Hooker T is still standing after that wicked verbal assault by Dawson. He's got the mic back.

HT: Yo, Steve!


HT: Your boot is untied, BLOWA!

[SHSD looks menacingly down at his boot.]

SHSD: You summmmbitch!

Styles: Dawson is going to tie his boot!

NH: Hooker T is about to hit the most embarrassing move in parody sports entertainment!

SW: It's that, move...

NH: The Hookaroonie.

SW: Indeed.

NH: Wow, look at him spin.

Styles: And into an ax kick! Hooker has Dawson pinned! But Kay's not making the count? Why not!

SW: She's calling for the mic.

NH: This should be interesting. Hopefully.

KF: It appears to Kay Fabe as if you have the match won, but Kay Fabe refuses to make a count until you come up with a new catchphrase!

Styles: OH MY GOD! That's insane!

SW: Will the one trick pony come up with something new?

NH: Hooker appears lost in thought.

KF: Just like Kay Fabe thought.

Styles: OH man. Kay's Bottom on Hooker T! Dawson is getting up! Kay's Bottom to Stone Hot! The crowd is on fire.

SW: So is my lap! Damn is Kay hot tonight! OH YES! It's time! The sexiest move in parody sports entertainment today!

Styles: Kay hops off the ropes! LESBIAN'S TONGUE shoved deep into Hooker T! She gets up.

SW: Another one!

Styles: YES! Kay hops off the ropes. A second LESBIAN'S TONGUE, this time into Dawson's mouth! Kay Fabe lays down on top of both men?

NH: She's counting! One! Two! Three! Kay is calling for the bell!

[Masked Announcer shrugs and looks up at Kay Fabe.]

MA: The winner of the match. Kay Fabe?

NH: How does she win a match she wasn't even in?

Styles: Such is BOB.

SW: Who cares. She should win ALL THE TIME. She's a lesbian! Oh great, here comes Monroe back to the table.

NH: What was that? Kay and Mike just shared a little look there.

SW: Who cares. I'm just enjoying watching Kay leave!

[Uh oh. Instead of going where we were supposed to go, suddenly an annoying verse is played over the speakers:


Ooooh Mussel has the power
Mussel is kinda nuts!
This guy could save the Universe...
If he only had some guts!


Ultimate Mussel jumps the flimsy railing and slides into the ring.]

MM: Oh no. We've been invaded! By yet another jobber! And he's got a microphone.

SW: Uh oh. Be prepared to be bored to tears.

[Suddenly, "Them Bones" begins playing. The arena is silent as Death emerges from backstage. Ultimate Mussel stares at Death in horror. He looks left, right, left, right, behind him. Apparently, he's stumped and doesn't remember how to get out of the ring. Death slowly walks up the stairs and climbs over the top rope, pushing himself over with his scythe.]

NH: Ultimate Mussel must be retarded. He's just standing there.

SW: BOB isn't dead, but I think I know one person who IS about to be dead!

MM: Death has the scythe up! OH GOOD GOD!!


NH: I think I'm gonna be sick!

MM: Ultimate Mussel has been CHOPPED IN HALF!

[The crowd pops huge.]

SW: I didn't think a body could be cut so cleanly in half.

MM: I guess you learn something new every day.

["Them Bones" hits again and Death walks out of the ring.]

SW: This is the bloodiest night in BOB history. Even bloodier than the night Nurse Heidi forgot her tampons!

[Before Heidi could respond to that comment, "Testicles in a Box" by Big D hit the system.]

MM: Now what? The ring is soaked in blood!

SW: It's Spacecop and Spaceduck! They're back!

MM: NO! NO! NO! OH GOOD GOD! I Can't believe our fans waited for this Pay-Per-View! Look at what Spacecop is doing to the corpse of Ultimate Mussel!!!

SW: Crap, now I know why they've been banned from Canada! You call it Heidi.


SW: Do your job!

NH: *Sigh.* In what is NO DOUBT, the lowest point in BOB history...Spacecop is raping the corpse of Ultimate Mussel. FOR NO REASON! Can we PLEASE pull the cameras back! This isn't rated X.

SW: Just our luck. We have hardcore sex on a BOB show and Heidi isn't involved.

NH: This isn't sex! It's necrophilia!



MM: You better shut up Heidi. You heard him.

NH: He's a damn SMILEY! He can't do anything to me! Plus, Detached Narrator?


NH: If you make sure nothing bad happens to me, I'll make sure you're WELL rewarded.]

[Done and done! The necrophilia will be contained to Ultimate Mussel's corpse!]

=<> + =C]: GOD DAMN IT!

MM: God, we need a break desperately. Is this show over yet?

SW: I can't believe the loyal BOB fans had to wait months for THIS!

Styles: Is it time for the main event?

SW: Yes! The show's almost over. FINALLY!

[The sounds of "It's Raining Men" filled the arena, as a decent pop went up from the crowd.]

SW: Wow, not quite his usual reaction. Could Hardcore JJ's schtick be getting old?

NH: I don't know Scotty. I think it's the music. Everyone was afraid Da Sassy Bitch was coming out here. JJ's sure isn't old. I don't know how his gimmick could be. He's the youngest wrestler....EVER. He's only 3! And he's looking to do something tonight that even Scotty Whatbody can't do.

SW: And what's that?

NH: Hold a title in BOB!

MA: This is thankfully, the main event of the evening. It is for THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. Coming down the aisle, he is from Truth Or Consequences New Zealand and weighs 146 pounds, Hardcore JJ!

[JJ does the bad-ass walk down the aisle. Or perhaps he just had an accident in his diaper? But thank goodness we'll never know.]

GBH: Yur. Heehee. What's dis?

[The picture goes black. Several seconds later, a TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES sign comes on screen. Then we return to the arena.]

MM: I cannot believe he found that button.

SW: How did it fall out of your pants, Monroe?

[The scene suddenly gets all wavy and we head to flashback fantasy mode. We see Mike Monroe backstage getting a cup of coffee. Suddenly, Kay Fabe walks up to him.]

Kay: Hey Mike.

MM: Hey Kay.

Kay: You know, Kay Fabe has been thinking. About switching teams. And there isn't one man more than Kay Fabe would want to convert the Lesbian, than....Scotty Whatbody.

NH: (Voice) WTF?

[Back to the announce desk.]

MM: Wait, it's not done.

NH: This is your fantasy?

[Back to imaginary flashback mode, as Scotty Whatbody comes on screen. He and Kay walk off together. Mike reaches into his pants and throws the kill-switch on the floor in disgust and walks away. Suddenly, GBH comes on screen.]

GBH: Shiny purty. Heehee.

[Back to the announce table. Everybody is staring at Mike.]

SW: Even a loser in your fantasies, eh Monotone?

[Backstage, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" stood near the entrance to the ring, twirling a banana peel.]

STJS: Hey, Trey...

[Trey Vincent stepped into view and looked down at her. Eyes not quite so full of lust this evening.]

TV: Sarah. Are you planning something?

STJS: No. Not at the moment.

TV: You planning on planning something later?

STJS: Somebody's got the wiggins...big time.

[TV started to walk away. Sarah tossed the banana peel onto the floor in his path.]

STJS: Break a leg.

TV: You know, at one time, Trey Vincent thought you were just playing hard to get. Now, eight months later, I realize you aren't playing hard to get. You're just a bitch.

STJS: Took you eight months to figure that out? Most people figure that out about me after a couple of hours.

TV: You--

["Temptation Waits" began playing.]

STJS: They're song?

TV: Damn Eddie B and his random tracks. This isn't over Jobber Bitch. In's only, just beginning.

STJS: Actually, no, it's been dragging out since you first got here with the iAd.

TV: Fine. This angle isn't over yet. In fact, it's just! Damn you Sarah! Damn you!

MA: And his opponent. From Communist China. He weighs 42 pounds. Trey, Vincent!

MM: What the?

SW: Am I seeing things?

GBH: Sleepy time.

[Styles joins the announce team.]

Styles: OH MY GOD! A BED!

MM: Why are you back here?

SW: Heidi, sit on my lap, we're out of chairs. Panties, optional.

NH: Ewww.

SW: Kay Fabe found me irresistible. I am the lover of ladies, the banger of bitches, the captain of cunni


NH: Ewwww. I so don't want to work with this pig anymore.

Pig: Oink. Weeeeeeeeeeeee!


[The pig weeee weee weeed, all the way a few feet away.]

SW: Where did THAT come from?

[Maui Wauie shows up from behind the announcers.]

MW: Yo, did someone say weed? Whoa, a PIG!

[Suddenly, Sleazy-C races down the aisle and charges at Maui Wauie, diving over the desk. Well, trying. During his jump, his knees banged into the side of the table and he ended up crashing face first onto the table. He then rolled to the floor, shouting in pain.]

NH: What the? Maui Wauie is here? And why is Sleazy-C coming after you?

MW: Yo. I dunno. All I know is I want some weed.

MM: Oh no, douja is coming out! Oh no! He's coming for Maui and Sleazy and he doesn't look happy. The Smoke Dogg looks like he's ready to bring some pain.

douja: Yo. You wanna step on my gimmick bitches??

MM: A huge, well, small fight has broken out at ringside with all of BOB's resident stoners fighting each other.

SW: Lucky thing this distraction broke out so they could get that bed into the ring.


Styles: OH MY GOD! How did HE get back here?

MS: God said it should be so.

Styles: God?

MS: The guy writing this crap.

Styles: Ahhh....

GBH: Yur.

TV: Alright, enough, enough. Get those scrubs out of here. Hardcore JJ, listen up. Trey Vincent has something he wants to show you!

[Vincent points to the TinyTron. Both Vincent and JJ squint to try and see what is going on as Maui Wauie, Sleazy-C and douja take seats on the floor in front of the guardrail and start looking for something better to do than fight. The camera quickly pulls away as Sleazy pulls something small and white out from a shirt pocket.]

TV: Alright, fine, you can't SEE what that was. But that was your mommy. [Trey looked at his watch.] You know what MY watch is telling TV? Huh? Do ya? Huh? It's telling me that it's wayyyyyy past your bed time and that was your mommy telling you to go to bed. Since you always do what your mommy says!

[The crowd booed.]

TV: So, here's your bed JJ. And that's your mommy's last line, cuz Trey Vincent SAYS SO!

[The crowd boos. JJ grabbed the mic. Booing that came from the crowd turned to cheers from the crowd.]

JJ: I ain't through with ya Vin-cest. But I will indeed listen to my mommy and go to bed.

[More booers made noise.]

Styles: OH MY GOD!

MM: I don't believe this. Hardcore JJ is going to sleep.

SW: It is past his bedtime.

NH: Was that really JJ's mother on the TinyTron?

SW: Who can tell from this distance. Would Trey Vincent lie?

Everyone else: (Sarcastically) Nooooooooo.

[The bell rings.]

MM: Huh?

SW: This match is underway? What's going on here?

MM: And JJ climbs up on the bed. He's going under the covers. He's trying to get comfortable. He slides down a little further.


MM: JJ is on his back. And he closes his eyes!

SW: Vincent is a genius. He's going to win THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! AGAIN!

MM: Wait. There was yet more stuff set up during that distraction of a fight. *coughcough*

SW: Man that smoke is thick…mind if I go hang out with douja and his crew?

NH: Do your job Scotty.

SW: Only if you do a 'job' for me?


Styles: OH MY GOD! Heidi just knocked the headset off of Scotty Whatbody!

[The camera cuts to the entryway. Sarah is set up there with karaoke equipment of some sort.]

TV: NOOOOOOOOOO. Why won't you leave me alone bitch! I'm not afraid of you, bring it on! (Trey hits the bat into his hand.) Not afraid of you at all!

MM: Where are douja, Sleazy C and Maui Wauie going?


MM: Wait. Look.

[Music begins playing.]

MM: Oh, this plot development will have to wait till after this song.

STJS: She don't like to hear me sing
She don't want no diamond ring
She don't want to drive my car
She won't let me go that far
She don't like the way I look
She don't like the things I cook
She don't like the way I play
She don't like the things I say
But oh, the games we play
She's too good for me
She's too good for me

[Vincent is pacing back and forth, eyes filled with rage. Sarah, sensing his mood, begins to unbutton her top a bit, revealing her bra. Trey suddenly is intrigued with Sarah, despite the lyrics.]

STJS: She don't like the jokes I make
She don't like the drugs I take
She don't like the friends I got
She don't like my friends a lot
She don't like the clothes I wear
She don't like the way I stare
She don't like the tales I tell
She don't like the way I smell
But oh, the games we play
She's too good for me
She's too good for me

[Sarah shows a bit more of leg, pulling up on her tight leather skirt a bit. Trey is completely hooked, as is most of the crowd.]

STJS: Would she prefer it if I washed myself more often than I do
Would she prefer it if I took her to an opera or two
I could distort myself to be the perfect man
She might prefer me as I am

STJS: She don't want to meet my folks
She don't want to hear my jokes
She don't want to fix my tie
She don't even want to try
She don't like the books I read
She don't like the way I feed
She don't want to save my life
She don't want to be my wife
But oh, the games we play
She's too good for me
She's too good for me

[The crowd cheers. Vincent is, not surprisingly, staring lovingly at Sarah.]

MM: Vincent is surrounded.

NH: Sarah's entire crew is out here. And Generic Ref's eyes are watering from all that, smoke. The poor bastard can't breathe. Look, his face is turning red.

SW: He's got a chronic cough. BWAHAHAHA.

GBH: Farty, farty, hur hur.

MM: He's right. Graphic Flatulence is in the ring.

NH: Isn't JJ cute when he's sleeping?


[Vincent suddenly straightens up. He'd recognize that sound anywhere. A FART!]

Styles: Graphic Flatulence has Vincent! Elevated reverse DDT! The move he calls Unsuitable For Anyone With a Nose!

SW: Why isn't the Generic Ref stopping this?

NH: This match is going up in smoke.

MM: Albert DeSalvo has

Styles: Crossface chickenwing! The Bitch Exterminator!


Styles: He named it, not me!

MM: Trey Vincent is reeling. As is the referee. Can you get high off fumes?

Sleazy: Wurd 2 tha muthaphucka!

NH: I'd take that as a yes?

MM: But the bOb crew is not done. DMD is waiting on Vincent to get up.

NH: This is some MAJOR payback for when he took out all these guys with his baseball bat on Cybersuplex.

Styles: DMD hits The Bill! Vincent is down.


SW: Hey Heidi, speaking of going down…

NH: Man, did somebody put your sleaze button up to maximum all of a sudden?

Styles: Look at K-Con! Two Letters Betters has locked the Icon into the Attention Deficit Disorder!

SW: Umm..

MM: And now, as usual, K-Con drops the hold and wanders off. He's distracted by a sign in the crowd. What does that say?

Styles: Learn To Read, Call 1-888…hey, hey, hey, NO SHILLING IN BOB!

MS: Pardon?

MM: Vincent is still down.

Styles: And…hurt.

MM: But Las Vegas Davis is up top! No doubt about to gamble his body on some sort of unbelievable, death defying move from the top rope! This man lives for the moment and is willing to risk life and limb every time he steps into the ring. What is he going to do!

[Vegas jumps off and lands his right foot on Vincent's finger!]

MM: Mmmyeah.

SW: Man, you almost fell into Shill territory.

MS: WHATAMOVE! Vincent won't be able to get up from THAT one.

MM: What the? Now DovE helps TV up and dusts him off.



MM: Kelly Erik lifts up Vincent.


Styles: OH MY GOD!

MM: Right into the bed where JJ is sleeping!

Crowd: Holy…wait a second!….

NH: Oh no! Get the paramedics out here!

MM: We would if we could Heidi.


NH: What?

SW: Oh, NO! You've GOT to be kidding me!

MM: The bed collapsed from that devastating POWERBOMB by Kelly Erik and Hardcore JJ is on top of Trey Vincent among the debris of the bed!


Crowd: ONE

Crowd: TWO!!

Crowd: THREE!!!

[Ding, ding, ding. HUGE crowd pop. ]


NH: Gotta love Eddie B and his random crowd pop noise!

Styles: I don't believe it! Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" has helped Hardcore JJ beat Trey Vincent!

SW: She's stalking him! It's SICK!


MM: JJ has done it. He has become the youngest ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS in the HISTORY of BOB!


MM: It's been an unbelievable night of BOB, um, stuff.

SW: A 3-year-old is our world champion. He represents our company. Don't it just figure.

MM: Oh, what a scene. The bOb crew has JJ up on their shoulders and are celebrating. BOB stands tall once again! The iAd is dead. They have no titles, no power, no stroke. BOB has found a cure for parody wrestling cancer!

SW: Yeah, good thing there's a HUGE demand for THAT type of cancer. We'll be rich in NO time. *Sigh*

MM: For everybody, I'm Mike Monroe saying good night, unless you're asleep already!

[The screen gets all wavy and suddenly, Mike is alone at the desk. Kay Fabe walks out to the table.]

KF: Gonna be a titillating evening Monotone. But speaking of titillation. I was just kidding about Scotty Whatbody before. You know who I want to try and bring me over to the dark side?

[Mike gulps.]

KF: That's right. You're gonna get some wet, lesbian, action!

[Kay takes off her silk, purple top, revealing a sleeveless white T-shirt. She then pulls up a bucket full of ice water which is amazingly well placed right at her feet. She picks up the bucket as Mike smiles.

KF: Make me wet, Mikey. Make me wetter than I've ever been before!

[Fade to black.]

© 2002 BOB Wrestling! You stole cable for this?


© BOB Wrestling!

Brawlers On a Budget is an online fantasy parody wrestling sports entertainment federation (or e-fed) designed to be somewhat funny.

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