Caption: Earlier today...
[Inside BigBOSSes hotel suite, Mike Monroe was looking out the window at the view of Sin City, while Styles was eyeing up the breakfast menu. With the flush of a toilet, both men turned their attention to BigBOSS, who was apparently ready to conduct some business with them.]
BigB: Who let you in here?
[Styles and Monroe look at each other.]
BigB: Just kidding. I know I did, underlings. Here's the thing. I've been hearing nothing but rave reviews about you on the show last week.
MM: Really? Wow. Finally, after eight years, some recognition for all my hard--
BigB: Ummm...yeah. Not really talking to you, Mike. I was talking to Mikey.
MM: He was amateurish at best. I've been trying to take him under my wing and teach him the art of telling stories, not just calling play-by-play.
BigB: Did I authorize you to use your wing on Styles?
MM: Well, no.
BigB: Then let him out from under it right now. Are you OK, Styles?
Styles: (Confused) Yes. Fine, thanks.
BigB: I thought he had you there for a second. Styles, don't change a thing. Now go out there with Scotty Whatbody and do your thing. Leary said it's much easier to write with you. He can use emphasis, and exclamation points. Something that is sorely lacking with a certain other person in this room.
MM: I can yell.
BigB: Go ahead.
MM: ... What should I yell about?
BigB: Why don't you yell at Styles and tell him how he's trying to sabotage your career...again.
MM: Styles, I've had it. Now cut it out before I have to hurt you.
BigB: See? Totally lacking any kind of emotional impact. Yell.
MM: *Ahem* Styles, cut it out before I have to hurt you.
MM: I am yelling.
BigB: Seriously? You're so bland. I have no emotional attachment to you at all. Do that thing you do, Styles...go on. Do it. Right in Monroe's face, even.
Styles: Okay...(Styles gets in Monroe's face) OH MY GOOOOOOOOD!
MM: That's so 1998. It's 2007, Styles. C'mon, BigBOSS. You can't fire me again.
BigB: I'm not firing you. I'm demoting you. To Styles's old job. You can interview people backstage. You've got about as much talent as that...oh, what's his name...Todd Grisham?
MM: Todd Grisham? Who the hell is that?
Styles: Probably the worst TV announcer EVER.
MM: I can do better.
Styles: Want me to take you under MY wing, Mike?
BigB: Look. We have to move the show along. Now, go swap microphones or whatever and get ready. The show's about to begin. Right now.
Styles: It's only 2 p.m.
BigB: *Sigh* I'll pretend I didn't hear that. The show's about to begin RIGHT NOW!
MM: Right now.
Styles: RIGHT NOW! Oh my GOD!
[In a deserted ballroom, Kay Fabe was sitting cross-legged in the middle of a white circle, surrounded by four white candles. In front of her was a ouija board. Her eyes were closed, and she was chanting something repeatedly.]
KF: Gli alcoolici, lo sentono! BigBOSS deve pagare. Gli alcoolici, lo sentono! BigBOSS deve pagare. Gli alcoolici, lo sentono! BigBOSS deve pagare. Gli alcoolici, lo sentono! BigBOSS deve pagare. Gli alcoolici, lo sentono! BigBOSS deve pagare. Give me a Q.
[She blows out one candle.]
KF: Give me a U.
[She blows out the second candle.]
KF: Give me a A...er, an A.
[She blows out the third candle.]
KF: Give me a D. And not for grammar.
[She blows out the final candle. The room is completely dark.]
KF: ... Shoot. Which way is the door?
[Inside BigBOSSes hotel suite, BigBOSS was busy watching television when there was a knock at the door.]
BigB: Get that, underling! Oh, right, there's nobody else in here...um...Come in!
Michelle: (Voice) I can't! I don't have a keycard!
BigB: But I'm comfortable!
Michelle (Voice): Oh, hey, Mrs. Behave.
Mrs. Behave: (Voice) Stuart?
[The door clicks open. Mrs. Behave comes in, looking a tad disappointed at her lazy husband. Michelle blocks the television.]
BigB: Oh, hi, Michelle.
Michelle: BigDADDY, we have to talk.
BigB: I told you I was sorry about insert funny thing I did to your stuff.
BigB: *Sigh* Where's Leary?
Michelle: BigDADDY, there are some rumors flying in the locker room.
BigB: About you being easy?
Michelle: No! About the iAd.
BigB: The iAd?
Michelle: Trey Vincent. Steve Studnuts. Seth Harker. A lot of the boys and girls have been talking, and they're saying that the iAd is returning tonight!
BigB: How can they? I'm not paying them to show up. And you know how greedy they are. Which reminds me, honey, can I borrow $50? I want to go get a snack from the vending machine?
BigB: Michelle, they're just rumors. BOB can't afford any of those three guys. And I'm not taking a pay cut. They're just silly Internet rumors. And if they do show up for some reason, then they'll have to pay for tickets, which means more money from the gate for us. So what's the problem?
Michelle: Wrestlers aren't exactly the most stable people. And, hello? Trey is my ex-husband, and a total egotistical nut job whose probably a little PO'ed that I emptied out his bank accounts.
BigB: Oh, please, who'd have a grudge over something as small as that. Hey! Where's my dime! It was just on the table!
Mrs. Behave: Calm down, Stuart. I was just putting it with the rest of your money.
Michelle: You keep all your money in a hotel safe?
BigB: No, just the dimes. The real cash is in *BEEEEEEEP*. But shhhhh. In fact, I'm going to censor that later. Because...there is no other money. I'm just a poor wrestling promoter. Listen, Michelle, just calm down. Why don't you go get married to Pigeon tonight, take your mind off things?
BigB: Sure. He's a swell guy. He could probably even protect you from Trey Vincent. He likes to use office supplies as weapons. I'm sure he's got a mighty ballpoint pen he could stab Trey in the forehead with. Or maybe a ruler. Or a posterboard or something.
Michelle: *Sigh* How much did he bribe you with this month?
BigB: A LOT! Just make sure he signs a pre-nup.
[In the BOB Ballroom at the Riviera Hotel, a standing room only crowd...damn crew forgot to set up the chairs...is chanting for chairs. The Flunky is busy trying to pass out the chairs as we head to Mikey Styles and Scotty Whatbody at ringside.]
Styles: Hello everyone, and welcome to Brawlers On a Budget! And tonight, BOB truly has, an Appetite For Burritos.
SW: I have an appetite for Nurse Heidi's pink taco. Woohoo!
Styles: Lovely, Scotty. Well fans, we've got a huge night ahead of us tonight, including Insano Mano versus the BOB ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS...Axl Van Halen?
SW: I can't believe it either, Styles. I'm definitely not down with him as champ, and I've got two words for ya: transitional champ.
Styles: You think?
SW: It could have been worse. The Blue Meanie could have been our transitional champ.
Styles: We've also got Sir Zeno and Dr. Silaconne M. Plants in their first ever meeting. Not Good Enough Tag Team Titles on the line. And a Mexican food fight T&A XX Division number one contenders match.
["Narayan" by Prodigy hits, and the crowd pops.]
Styles: And apparently, we've got Sir Zeno about to join us!
SW: I don't know what's more embarrassing...losing to Insano Mano, or losing to Axl Van Halen dressed as Insano Mano.
Styles: And Sir Zeno looks pissed off tonight.
SW: He always looks pissed off and always is pissed off. Hell, I'd be pissed too if I had what will no doubt be an anorexic baby on the way. That thing will never come to term with the way she doesn't eat and then vomits up what she doesn't eat.
Styles: Last month, Sir Zeno nearly defeated Axl Van Mano, if not for the interference of his baby mama, Anne O'Rexic and her, uh, whatever she is, Nikki Mantle.
SW: She's a softball player. Enough said.
Styles: For you?
SW: What? You want me to say that she prefers the nappy dugout?
Styles: I don't WANT you to say it. I'm just surprised you didn't. Would you listen to this reception for Sir Zeno. He has to be the most popular BOB star today.
SW: Amazing, considering he hasn't cut a promo in months.
Sir Zeno: I spent the last month or so at the Sin City Family Clinic, because I have never seen such an ABORTION as what happened last month. Axl Van Halen.
SZ: Last month, that no-talent glam metal wannabe beat me while dressed up as Insano Mano. Does this make sense to anybody? It sure as hell doesn't make sense to me. I was defending the title against Insano Mano. This decision needs to be reversed right now before this show goes on, or there will be consequences for everybody on this pathetic roster. BigBOSS and your little stooges need to re-book this card RIGHT NOW. I will NOT wrestle Dr. Silaconne M. Plants. I should be fighting Axl for MY TITLE tonight, not Insano Jobbero. The people want Sir Zeno as champion. They don't want Axl Van Halen as the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. Van Halen picked up the fluke win of his life only because of that whore who claims to be carrying my spawn. And speaking of abortions, Anne...if YOU don't take care of this little problem...believe me...I will.
Styles: Oh my GOD!
SW: Damn. He's gonna kick her in the belly!
SW: Dr. Zeno, amateur abortion doctor.
Styles: Stop it!
["Bow Down" by Gunzzzzz and YoYozzzzz... or however that's spelled... plays. Axl stepped out to huge boos, sprinkled with even louder death threats.]
Styles: Axl may be out here, but he isn't getting in the ring with Zeno.
Axl Van Halen: Hello, Sinnnnn Ciiiiiiiiity!
AVH: Please, sit down. You're too kind! Oh, right, you can't. Never mind, losers.
AVH: You know what, Mister Zeno? I agree with you. I believe BigBOSS SHOULD rebook the main event for tonight's show. Because I want to prove to all these sinners in the crowd, that I am the best in BOB and the best in the business today!
Styles: Zeno vs. Axl...TONIGHT? No way!
AVH: That's why I'm demanding BigBOSS get out here, right, now, and give everyone the match that everyone REALLY wants to see!
Styles: Well, that good some cheers from the crowd. Probably the first time that's ever happened to Axl Van Halen.
SW: Yeah, even when he's making up federations to inflate his ego, he's never gotten a better pop.
AVH: The fans have demanded it. So, BigBOSS, come out here and make it happen! Axl Van Halen vs........XXXTREME MACHINE!
[Huge boobs! Er...boos!]
Styles: What a putz.
SW: I think I just saw some chick with huge gigantic boobs. Can we please get a cameraman with priorities? Get the camera off Axl and show me that chick. Hey...isn't that a--
AVH: Ahhh! Ghost! *Ahem* I mean...Zeno, nobody wants to see you lose to me yet again. So why don't you just go play with that no-talent has-been, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants in a spot you've definitely earned...the non-main event spot! BOO-YEAH!
["Taking Care Of Business" by Bachman-Turner Overdrive plays. BigBOSS steps out to confusion, since the fans don't know whether to boo or cheer him.]
BigB: Thank you for that indifferent welcome. Just as a reminder to both of you, and everyone else who forgot, I am the one who makes the matches. Sometimes, yes, with the aid of the Medium-Sized Bucket®. Like I'll be doing to pick the matches for next month's spectacular event, A Chance Would Be A Fine Thing Two!
[No reaction from the crowd.]
BigB: Right-o! So, tonight, here's what is going to happen. Tonight, Sir Zeno is going to wrestle SMP. And Axl Van Halen is going to wrestle Insano Mano. And if Sir Zeno doesn't wrestle wrestle SMP, then I'm going to make sure that all of Zeno's paycheck goes to Anne O'Rexic to pay for a baby clothes!
Styles: Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa! Zeno's going after Axl! He's got Axl by the throat on the floor. Oh my GOD!
SW: Axl's dry humping Zeno? That's the sickest counter wrestling move I've ever seen.
Styles: And it distracts Zeno enough, giving Axl the chance to get away from Zeno. What a way to kick off Appetite for Burritos!
SW: Yeah. Tease everyone with a better match, only to deliver a crappier match. We're just like a real wrestling promotion now. Michelle is a genius, no wonder daddy promoted her.
[Outside of the Riviera Hotel, a cab pulled up to the front doors. Out stepped...Death. He was carrying his scythe in one hand and his six-pack of beer that he won in the Beer In The Belly Match at Living In Sin. Then, out stepped his wife, zombie cheerleader Katie Death.]
Cab Driver: You owe me $86, dude.
Death: Well, isn't that a coincidence.
Cab Driver: You've got the money?
Death: I'm a millionaire! Of course I have the money. C'mon, man...you're KILLING me with that price! Which gives me an idea...
[Death lifts a finger toward the driver.]
[Katie and Death run into the hotel.]
Cab Driver: Hey!
Styles: Why is Death here? And where's the Swiss Army Belt? And wasn't he stranded in the Netherworld?
SW: I thought he was. What odd timing.
Styles: Odd timing?
Styles: Care to elaborate?
SW: Can't right now. I've got business to take care of in the ring.
Styles: What? Now?
SW: Be right back.
Styles: Well, Scotty is heading to the ring for some reason. Oh, this should be good.
SW: Hey, Heidi. Want to stroke my microphone?
SW: Oww! I can't believe you just hit me with that.
NH: You earned it.
SW: Bitch. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! May I present to you, the future of Brawlers On a Budget. They say good things come in threes. Which is odd since women only have two tits. So, I don't know if that's really true anymore, but let's pretend it is! I give to you...Randall Mooby...Alex Smith...Little Good. This is THREEDOM!
["Lies Lies Lies" by Ministry plays. The new jobber group steps out to the usual indifference and heads to the ring.]
AS: (Bullhorning) Thank you, Scotty! Just a reminder to all my friends here in Sin City and everyone watching at home. The only power any government has is the power to crack down on criminals. When there aren't enough criminals, one makes them. One declares so many things to be a crime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking laws. And that is exactly what is going to keep happening until we see the rise of Nazi Germany right here in America. Fight the government! Fight authority! Fight FOX News and the rest of the corporate media! Just keep fighting! Yeah! 9/11 was an inside job! 9/11 was an inside job! 9/11 was an inside--
LG: Give me that bloody bullhorn. You want to fight somebody? It's time to fight those Lay-Z ponces.
RM: Let's fuck up those fucking fucks!
LG: Exactly! Oh yeah, and whatever you got, we're against it. Now hit their bloody awful music.
Voiceover: Hey Carjack, why don't you put that big ol' 12-inch on my turntable?
["Thumpin' in Da Howse" plays, leading out BOB's resident wiggers, DJ Rawkus and MC Carjack, best known lately as Lay-Z.]
SW: Wow, they're actually making it into the ring tonight. Usually Rawkus and Carjack are too lazy to get out off their asses.
Styles: Well, all the guaranteed contracts got revoked when we lost the Comedy Central deal. If they want to maintain their level of laziness, they're gonna have to put on some kind of match.
SW: Why do we have to suffer? I don't get it.
Styles: This one is ready to get underway.
SW: What is the deal here with Threedom, they going to be pulling the Freebird rules gimmick?
Styles: I guess so. It looks like Little Good is going to be teaming up with Randall Mooby for this one. Since Lay-Z are jobbers, Little Good can hurt jobbers.
SW: Oh, right, he's got that chip in his head that won't let him hurt non-jobbers. Riiiiight. And it's not even a microchip. It's a fucking Dorito! Bold taste that will prevent you from harming jobbers.
Styles: Something like that, apparently. All corporations are evil, you know that Scotty. Especially this one.
SW: I can't argue that.
Styles: What is he doing?
SW: Oh no.
AS: Hello, bootlickers! How is life kissing up to corporate scum lords like Lord BigBOSS?
SW: It sucks. And I don't kiss up to anybody.
AS: You take bloody money from BigBOSS, who exploits all his workers for his own profit.
SW: Do you have any idea how many chicks I get by telling them I'm on television?
AS: One a year?
SW: At least!
Styles: Look at this. Mooby extending a hand to DJ Rawkus. Oh, but Rawkus wants five instead. Up high. Down low. Oh, but Mooby is too slow. And Mooby clotheslines Rawkus for that lame ass crap.
SW: No kidding.
AS: Look, guys. They killed Kennedy. They performed a coup d'etat. And this country has never been the same since. We've been sliding from freedom to fascism for decades. We are country in decay, the maggots are about ready to burst through the stomach and finally come to light.
Styles: That's a pretty visual right there, Alex.
AS: They can spy on anybody they want. They're probably spying on us all right now, Scotty. Look. This EZ Break Announce Table is bugged.
Styles: It is?
SW: Hey, that's my pen. What are you doing?
Styles: Alex, you're getting ink all over everything. Stop that.
Styles: I'll be damned. That's a bug?
AS: You bet it is, Styles. Corruption never had a worse enemy than me.
Styles: DJ Rawkus fighting back with some punches and forearms. Tag in to Carjack.
AS: And not to mention they can track you now with your cell phone. The NSA is wired into everything. But it's to protect you, right?
SW: C'mon, Alex. I can't afford a cell phone. Pay phones are a luxury for me.
Styles: Are you saying that everything is a lie?
AS: We're through the looking glass, Styles. History is a constructed illusion.
SW: Just like us calling Lay-Z wrestlers?
AS: Exactly. Calling BOB "wrestling" is itself an illusion. Just like calling the WWE "entertaining" is an illusion. Once you realize that you've been wired into the "Matrix" world, you'll see gatekeepers and government operatives everywhere you go. Just like you two.
Styles: I'd probably have a bank account if I was working for the government.
AS: You say that, but why are your tax returns top secret?
Styles: What? Stop lying.
AS: Am I lying? Or are YOU lying, BOOTLICKER?
Styles: Fans, Alex Smith is flat out lying now.
AS: You scuuuuum. They keep you up to your ears in fruit, don't they? Don't they!
Styles: Carjack with a...modified dropkick? What the hell was that?
SW: That was terrible.
AS: Why don't we ask Styles exactly what The Federation was? What was your mission there?
SW: The Federation?
AS: What was Sarah "The Jobber Slayer's" real mission? I'll tell you. Her mission was to push a woman and make every man on the roster look weak.
Styles: Shut up! Sarah was talented and well-trained and not part of a global conspiracy you NUTCASE! She had more talent that most of the people on the roster, it had nothing to do with an evil master plan to emasculate men! God!
SW: Seriously, Alex. She was just jerk-off material for all the viewers. Just like the whole T&A division.
AS: How can I believe anything that comes out of the mouths of corporate liars? Just go take all your medicine from FEMA at their lovely barbed wire fenced camps when the next attack comes. It's for your safety. And so is going into the ovens, never forget that. Only true patriots don't fight as they're about to be cremated alive.
Styles: Can we PLEASE turn his microphone off.
AS: Freedom of speech! Freedom of speech!
SW: Seriously, dude. That's not even funny.
AS: I'm not trying to be funny! I haven't been trying to be funny since I came to BOB.
Styles: Mission accomplished.
AS: This is the only venue I had to tell the TRUTH. And if you viewers want more, steelcageplanet.com, wrestlewars.com. Join up and get all my news reports, webcam videos and podcasts! The empire's on the run, I'm on the march!
Styles: Cover! One and, no. Now Carjack is heading to the top rope. And...what the hell? He falls face first to the mat.
SW: BWAHAHAHAHA! What an idiot.
Styles: You do remember that this is YOUR stable, don't you?
SW: It's all about the manager's fee, Styles.
MC: Yo, homez, why yo' be pushin' me fo'?
DJ: I di'n't' push yo', foo'!
MC: Well, someone did, devil!
DJ: There ain't no one there, yo.
MC: Someone pushed me off the top rope, home team!
DJ: Sho, man, sho.
SW: I think Kay Fabe has successfully summoned some spirits.
Styles: You think so?
SW: That's my guess. Why else did we have that segment where she was summoning?
Styles: There's a big...hey! Where's he going?
SW: He just tossed Little Good the bullhorn. Oh man, Little Good just blasted Carjack in the back of the head. Just like I taught them. Cheat and cheat often.
Styles: Mooby dropkicks Rawkus off the apron. And how did Generic Ref miss that blatant bullhorn shot?
SW: He sucks?
Styles: Cover! One! Two! HE GOT HIM! Unbelievable. Threedom picks up the win here at Appetite For Burritos.
SW: You know, for a guy who claims to be on the right side of every issue, he sure did just cheat there. I almost admire him for that.
Styles: Scotty, the both of you have some serious issues.
SW: Like you don't?
Styles: Where are you going?
SW: (Off-mic) Nowhere. Some idiot behind us just knocked my headset off. Hey, you cock-faced dingbat, why don't you do that to my fa--
[Scotty realize there is a five-year-old girl sitting behind him.]
Father: What did you just say to my little girl?
[Styles headset flies off and hits the father in the face.]
SW: Thanks, Styles!
Styles: I didn't do that!
Father: Oh, YOU want some!
Styles: Sir, I don't know what happened.
Styles: We think there might be spirits haunting the ballroom tonight.
SW: Right! And one of them possessed me and made me speak in tongues. Dirty tongues.
Voice: supernatural visitant.
Father: I oughta kick both your behinds. But I think I'm gonna do something worse. Next month. I think I'll let my OTHER child take care of you two.
SW: There's no need for that.
Styles: Yeah, really. Oh my god, we're gonna die, Scotty.
Supernatural Visitant: Hello? Hello?
Specter: They can't hear us. Right now. But once they're editing the video, it's gonna blow their minds! BOO! YEAH!
[Styles and Scotty's scripts suddenly get tossed up in the air and flutter down all around them.]
SW: Oh, man! Why couldn't I get a ghost who wants to give me a blowjob, like in "Ghostbusters"?
Styles: We need to get our scripts back together...let's send it backstage to...Mike Monroe. Who is with Pete Trable.
[Somewhere in the hotel, Mike Monroe was standing with Pete Trable.]
MM: Well, Pete. I have no idea why I'm here with you right now.
Pete Trable: Neither do I. I'm not booked. I don't even have a witty rap prepared, yo. Dad?
Papa Trable: Hi, son.
Pete: Yo, pops, what you doing here?
Papa: Well, Pete, I have a shocking revelation for you.
Papa: Pete. You have two brothers somewhere in Sin City.
Pete: Yo yo yo yo?
Papa: Yes. I know this is shocking for you to find out that you have two bastard brothers somewhere in this city.
Pete: Yo, how we gonna find them?
[DJ Rawkus and MC Carjack walk past the camera.]
DJ: Where's that bitch, Michelle? Nobody jobs out Lay-Z to...jobbers!
Papa: Oh, there they are.
Pete: What? Those two are my brothers?
MC: Hold up, DJ. Yo, what you sayin', foo'? You our pops?
Papa: Son! Son! Sons! I can't believe I've finally found you after all these minutes of searching!
Pete: Aww, why couldn't my brothers be a retarded munchkins or something cool? Why they have to be wiggers!
Papa: Don't be racist, Pete.
Pete: I'm not racist, pops.
DJ: Yo, so you the dude who hit our moms and then split?
Papa: That's me! Whacky Papa Trable.
DJ: Yo, so, I'm really DJ Trable, and he's MC Trable?
Pete: Oh, HELL no!
MC: Yo, we the Threeble's!
Pete: You ever say that again, I'll kill you, bro. I can't believe we're related...
DJ: Dude, your mom's a whore!
MC: She's your mom, too!
DJ: Hey man, fuck you!
[Mike Monroe's pants fall down.]
MM: What the?
DJ: Eww. Let's get outta here, yo!
Pete: Yeah, man, this interview's over. And pull your pants up!
MC: The spirits are gay for you, homeskillet! Hahahaha!
[Mike bends down to pick up his pants.]
Supernatural Visitant: nice.
[Monroe spins around, as if he's just been pinched on the ass.]
[Eliza "The Jobber Slayer" was walking down a hallway when suddenly BigBOSS raced around the corner and crashed into her. Both of them fell to the floor.]
BigB: Eliza? Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I was just...(he looks back the way he ran from). Uh...nothing. You OK?
Eliza: I'm a jobber slayer. It'd take a bit more than that to hurt me.
BigB: Right. Sorry.
Eliza: You OK, BOSS?
BigB: Yes, well...uhhh...I'm fine. My room seems to be...dripping blood at the moment.
Eliza: Blood? Are you serious?
BigB: Would you do me a favor and, uh, come back to my room with me?
Eliza: Is this a come on?
BigB: No, I'm a happily married man. But, Mrs. Behave isn't here...and I'm a little scared. And I know you're strong and tattooed, so you must be in a street gang or something. Could you just come with me and scare them away with some screams maybe?
BigB: Great. Great. I'll even spring for a soda!
Eliza: Woo. Lead the way.
[Back in the BOB Ballroom, Nurse Heidi was standing in the center of the ring behind a table covered with assorted Mexican food treats, including tacos, chalupas, burritos, gorditas, nachos, quesadillas, salads, taquitos and Coronas.]
NH: The following match is the T&A Mexican Food Fight!
NH: The winner of this food fight will be the number one contender for the T&A XX Division Championship. In this match, Mexican food can be used as a weapon, and the only way to win is to be the last woman standing in the ring. Once you hit the floor, no matter if you roll out under the bottom rope or over the top rope, you are eliminated from the match.
["Rising Sun" by Bexta plays.]
NH: Introducing first, from Parts Unknown, please welcome, Kay Fabe!
SW: I'd like to get to know her parts!
Styles: Kay Fabe is at the center of controversy lately. Her boyfriend has been banished from BOB, and she seems to have unleashed spirits in the Riviera tonight to torment BOB and the entire roster. Including us.
SW: She's been tormenting me for years. The sexual tension is just building and building.
Styles: I'm sure it's one-sided, Scotty.
SW: Hey, I'm cooler than Seth Harker.
Styles: Well, you're definitely fatter than Seth Harker.
["Not A Pretty Girl" by Ani DiFranco plays.]
SW: Now that's an appropriate song.
NH: Introducing next, from the back alleys of the softball diamond, Nikki Mantle!
SW: From the what?
Styles: The back alleys of the softball diamond? That's a new one.
SW: She's a ghetto lesbo? Oh, this song is torturous. I need to punch somebody.
Styles: Why don't you punch that little girl you were swearing at earlier.
SW: Hey, we're in enough trouble already.
Styles: Yeah, thanks to the Spirit Quad. Thanks, Kay!
Kay: Hey, it's not MY fault BigBOSS won't bring back Seth and the iAd. He brought this on himself.
Styles: Kay? Could you PLEASE help me out? For old-time's sake?
Kay: Hmm. OK. Hey. Hey you.
Kay: Leave Styles alone or I'll give you genital herpes. And I don't mean the good kind, where you get them from someone else. I mean the kind that magically appear without any of the sex.
Father: OK, OK. Sheesh. Can I still take care of Scotty Whatbody?
Father: Awesome. You hear that honey? Your big brother's gonna destroy Scotty Whatbody next month!
["Fuck And Run" by Liz Phair plays.]
NH: Introducing next. From Buttzville, New Jersey, this is Misty Waters.
SW: How's Misty doing?
Styles: Fine, as far as I know. Why?
SW: Oh, I heard she came down with a fever.
SW: Yeah. JUNGLE FEVER! Hahahaha!
Styles: Oh brother...
SW: Man, I can't believe she hooked up with douja last month to get a lousy rental car. I wonder what she did in the car?
Styles: I don't think I want to know.
SW: I do. You think she drives topless? I bet she does.
Styles: I can't believe I agreed to work with you again.
["Zombie" by Cranberries plays.]
NH: Introducing next. From the Netherworld. This is Katie Death.
Styles: Katie Death, the deathmate of Death. And let me guess, Scotty, you're not normally into necrophilia, but for her, you'd make an exception?
SW: Eww. Gross, Styles. Stop trying to be a shock commentator already, will you?
Styles: Of course. The artist formerly known as Katie Vicks has hooked up with a perfect mate for her. It's a true love story. "He came to kill me and I fell in love." And they lived happily ever after.
SW: That is sweet. Almost as sweet as Kay's titties.
["The Devil Went Down To Georgia" plays.]
NH: And finally, from Parts Unknown, this is Eliza "The Jobber Slayer."
SW: I wonder if her part of Parts Unknown is near Seth Harker's Parts Unknown.
Styles: Oh, don't start that love triangle stuff again.
SW: Well, I think I know where Eliza is now. She's with BigBOSS trying to exorcise his hotel suite.
Styles: Is that why she's not coming out here?
SW: And later, I'm sure she'll try and exorcise his pants.
Styles: Scotty, he's a married man! And your BOSS.
SW: I heard he likes screamers.
Styles: You better stop that. Well, it looks like it's going to be a four-way instead of a five-way match here.
SW: The only thing better than a three-way is a four-way. Woohoo!
Styles: And here we go! The girls all charge for the food and we've got a...FOOD FIGHT! FOOOOOOD FIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!
SW: Get in there Heidi!
Styles: Kay's got a chalupa and she smashes it into Nikki's face. Oh, and Katie takes a burrito to the face. And a gordita. Man, Katie doesn't offer much in the way of offense. Nikki's got a nacho. She's trying to get Kay in the eye! This is one EXTREME food fight! Misty's got Katie and tosses Katie to the floor. Kay's got Nikki. KAY'S BOTTOM THROUGH THE TABLE! OH MY GOD! Nikki is covered in Mexican food. Misty charges, but Kay tosses Misty to the floor. It's down to Kay and Nikki.
SW: Oh yeah! Here it comes, Styles. The sexiest move in parody sports entertainment today, the Lesbian's Tongue!
[Kay bounces off the ropes and drops to the mat and buries her tongue in Nikki's mouth. The crowd goes monkey!]
Styles: Oh. My. God.
SW: Damn! It looks like Nikki's trying to counter with her own lesbian tongue. It's a tongue wrestling match.
Styles: Both women are covered in Mexican food. Oh NO! Nikki just smashed a bottle of Corona over Kay Fabe's skull.
SW: Oh, man. Is that a plastic bottle? How lame.
Styles: Nikki's got Kay and she tosses Kay over the top rope. Kay held on! And Nikki doesn't realize it! Kay's back in. She's got a taco salad. Taco salad to the face. Nikki's blinded! Kay with a clothesline! Another clothesline! And that one sends Nikki to the floor! Kay Fabe has won! Kay is the number one contender! And BigBOSS isn't going to like this one bit, Scotty.
SW: You're right on that HEY!
Styles: Michelle's in the ring! Oh MAN! She just blasted Kay Fabe with a candlestick! And now she's rolling Kay. What is this all about? Michelle isn't in this match!
SW: Hahahaha! Brilliant! She's defending her BigDADDY. Nobody gets away with summoning spirits to haunt her family.
Styles: Kay Fabe has just been eliminated. And Michelle is screaming at Nurse Heidi to announce her as the winner?
NH: Here is your winner....Michelle?
Styles: Oh, stop applauding.
SW: Marry ME, Michelle. Screw Pigeon!
Michelle: Oh, and just so everyone knows...it was done by Michelle....with the candlestick...in the Ballroom. Hehehehehe!
SW: Play Strip Clue with me, Michelle!
Styles: What a mess we have in the ring.
[Styles heads to the ring.]
Styles: Michelle. I can't believe you booked yourself into the match.
Michelle: I'm as good a female wrestler as you'll find. *hic*
Styles: Well, sadly that's true, but still. You DO realize that now because you've won this match that you actually have to wrestle Queen Mylisiv now?
Michelle: I do? CRAP! I was just trying to piss off Kay! I love you Styles! Woooo!
Styles: Are you drunk?
Styles: What are you gonna do?
Michelle: Well...I guess I'm gonna have to show that blue-skinned freak just whose BOSS around here. (She picks up a Corona.) And celebrate some more! Wooooooo! Cheers!
[In a hallway in the Riviera Hotel, Death was leaning against a wall, playing with a yo-yo. Then, a man dressed in brown approached him.]
Delivery Guy: Hey....you Death?
Death: What gave it away, genius? The cloak, the bony fingers or the shiny scythe?
Delivery Guy: All of them, actually. I have two crates for you. One is from Mexico. And the other is from North Dakota. And it stinks.
[He hands Death an electronic signing pad.]
Delivery Guy: Where do you want them?
Death: Hmmm...I guess this empty ballroom over here will be fine. Thanks.
Delivery Guy: Mind if I ask what's in the smelly crate?
Death: All you need to know is that Mikey Styles is going to love it.
Delivery Guy: Who is Mikey Styles?
Death: *Sigh* Never mind. Just put it in there. I've got to go get some people.
SW: What is it? A crate full of rotten fruit?
Styles: Why would I like rotten fruit?
SW: You're a sick fuck, Styles.
["I Don't Like The Drugs (But the Drugs Like Me" by Marilyn Manson plays.]
Crowd: Nice thong! Nice thong! Nice thong!
SW: Oh, good god.
Styles: Oh my god! It's Kurt Angel is wearing nothing but a THONG!
SW: Another sick bastard.
Styles: Weren't we ready to have the tag team match right now?
SW: I really don't want to stare at Kurt's junk for 15 minutes, Styles. Maybe Heidi could let him borrow her skirt.
Styles: I don't think they're the same size, Scotty.
Kurt Angel: People, people. For the last couple of months, I've been trying to figure out who is setting fires backstage here in BOB. And apparently my private investigation skills are a little rusty, or I'm dealing with a criminal mastermind! I'm leaning towards the latter. Because there was another fire set this afternoon. That's right, people. Somebody actually had the gall to set fire to my wrestling gear! Not false, SO not false. Which explains why I'm out here wearing only a thong. This isn't funny, people. Nobody sets fire to my clothes and gets away with it.
["Under the Knife" by AC/DC plays.]
Styles: Dr. Thrilla is the arsonist?
SW: You've got a guy named Kevin the PYROMANIAC running around backstage, and nobody can figure out the payoff to this angle?
SW: I know he's not Kurt Angle you retard!
Styles: I don't know what you're talking about, Scotty. What's an angle have to do with anything out here?
SW: *Sigh* Are you channeling Mark Shill?
DT: *Angry metal clanging*
KA: Sorry, I don't speak Mexican.
Cecil: The doctor says that he is very upset that you have yet to bring the fire starter to light so vengeance may be dished out.
KA: Hey, eyes up here, buster! Listen, Dr. Thrilla. Let me tell you in your own language. *Teeth tapping*
SW: Oh no he didn't!
Styles: Whatever he tapped out in tooth, it pissed off Dr. Thrilla.
["Enter Kevin" by Vietallica plays. Kevin steps out in his usual burnt attire and walks to the ring.]
Styles: Well, here comes suspect number one.
Crowd: Fire starter *clap clap clapclapclap* Fire starter *clap clap clapclapclap* Fire starter *clap clap clapclapclap*
Kevin: This is ridiculous. I would never set fire to somebody else's shit. I ain't going back to juvey!
KA: So, you're telling me, in front of the small percentage of people who actually are seeing this show, that you had absolutely NOTHING to do with setting fire to my clothes.
Kevin: You think I'm a faggot? I don't want to see you out here in a THONG!
KA: A faggot, huh? I bet a faggot would indeed want to see me out here in a thong. And Thrilla...I think I know somebody who hates Mexican gangsta rap. This is a problem that we'll have to solve later tonight. But for right now...does anybody have a spare pair of pants? Oh, here comes Pigeon. Maybe he's got some spare pants!
SW: No, but it looks like he's got a spare metal ruler.
Styles: He sure does. And he's going right after Dr. Thrilla! These two are going to have a match a little later tonight, but apparently Pigeon wanted to get in some pre-match offense!
KA: Say, Pigeon, since you're here, are you setting fires backstage, or know who is? And do you have a spare pare of grungy jean shorts I can borrow?
Styles: Pigeon seems to be a bit preoccupied at the moment, brawling with Dr. Thrilla.
KA: What am I? Invisible?
Kevin: No, but I WISH you were!
[Kevin leaves the ring.]
KA: I know YOU are but what am I?
SW: All I ask is that the ghosts don't pull down Kurt's thong.
Styles: I'll warn you if I see any floating bottles of chloroform.
Styles: Oh NO! Here comes the Undietaker.
SW: Considering how slow he walks, I'm surprised I missed him walking down the aisle for the last few minutes.
Styles: He's got Pigeon. Wedgie-Aided Chokeslam From Hell! This war between Pigeon and Undietaker needs to be settled in the ring!
SW: I think Undietaker's settling it just fine.
KA: Say, Undietaker....
SW: Oh DEAR GOD NO! Don't call attention to yourself Kurt!
Styles: Oh. My. God. Undietaker has just spotted Kurt Angel, wearing NOTHING but a thong. And thongs are undies!
SW: Can somebody please shut off the lights or something?
Styles: Pigeon with a low blow on Undietaker. And thankfully, here come a bunch of jobbers to break up this brawl. Hold on. That's not a jobber. That's Lord Athackkimentham! And there's Uber Vampire Warrior! They snuck down amongst the jobbers and just jumped Kurt Angel! douja isn't even out here yet, but it looks like the champs are looking for an early advantage!
SW: Oh, no wonder we couldn't see them. They were wearing camouflage.
["How High" by Method Man and Redman hits. The crowd erupts in boos as douja jogs in.]
Styles: And apparently, this Not Good Enough To Fight Alone tag team title match has just begun. douja has just cleared the ring of the tag team champions single-handedly.
SW: He had to. He still has a doobie in his other hand. But the worst part of this is that Kurt still doesn't have a pair of pants or wrestling gear. I'm feeling so sick to my stomach right now.
Styles: Lord A is set to start for his team, and douja for his team. Lord grabs a headlock. douja fights his way out and pimp slaps Lord A!
SW: Had to go the racist route, didn't you?
Styles: I just read the script. Leary's the racist.
SW: Whoa. Did you just see that? One of the fans in the front row just levitated on his chair!
Styles: Unbelievable. The BOB Ballroom is definitely haunted. We seriously need to get in a priest or something to bless this hotel.
SW: Bless a hotel in Sin City? Good luck, Styles. That's like pissing on a giant fire to put it out.
Styles: Lord A with a wristlock.
SW: Good strategy, targeting his doobie hand. That's his stronger hand. Much better strategy than targeting the left arm, which EVERYBODY does in nearly EVERY MATCH in the WWE. Naked divas.
SW: It's all about the web hits, Poontang Fingerbang.
Styles: I'll stick with Mikey Styles, thanks. Oh, and there's a Greco-Roman eye poke by Lord A. But douja comes right back with a clothesline! And Lord A eats a big boot. douja with a slam, what impact. douja whips Lord A into the ropes and look at the elevation on that back bodydrop.
SW: Yeah, Lord A was almost as high as douja.
Styles: Uber Vampire Warrior gets the tag, and so does Kurt Angel.
SW: Man, did you hear about what happened when these two went to a bar the other night?
Styles: I'm sure I don't want to know...
SW: Kurt, of course, ordered up a beer. Then Uber Vamp ordered a glass of hot water. Kurt was a little surprised, you know, since he's a vampire and all. So Kurt's all, 'dude, you're a vampire, don't you want some blood?' So, Uber Vamp reaches into his pocket and pulls out a used tampon and says 'I'll be having tea'. BWAHAHAHAHA!
Styles: Oh my GOD that's extremely gross!
SW: What, the joke, or watching Angel wrestle in a thong.
Styles: Both, actually. Oh, Kurt just connected with that uppercut. Here comes a belly to belly, but, Uber Vamp just shoved Kurt away. And Uber Vamp looks...grossed out. Which is a hard thing to do. Uber Vamp apparently needs a second. Oh, he's got his chalice and is taking a mysterious red liquid break.
SW: It's BLOOD for fuck's sake! BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!
Styles: Oh, and Uber Vamp spits the RED LIQUID into Kurt's face.
SW: Wait...I know this one. And Kurt is wearing the crimson mask! OHMYGOD!
Styles: Get your own material! And Kurt didn't like that, and he's unloading with punches. I think I just saw a fang go flying! Now Kurt cranking in a headlock. Uber Vamp counters with a back suplex. Nicely done. But Kurt's back up.
SW: Ahh, the miracle of painkillers.
Styles: Heaven Suplex!
SW: What's the difference between a Heaven Suplex and a German Suplex?
Styles: Kurt isn't from Germany. Lord A gets the tag, and runs right into an overhead belly to belly throw! Kurt tags in douja. Big body slam by douja.
SW: Uh oh, douja's already out of moves? He's repeating spots!
Styles: douja drops the fist. Not scientific, but it hurts. douja whips Lord A to the ropes and...oh MAN, springboard back elbow takes douja down. Haven't seen that one from Lord A before. Both guys make the tags in. Uber Vamp punches away on both challengers. They've got douja set up for what might be a spike tombstone! But Kurt with a Heaven Suplex on Lord A, which takes BOTH MEN OVER! douja with the cover! One! Two! And...Lord A with a foot on the ropes.
SW: And Generic Ref is actually paying attention? Spooky. Maybe Generic Ref is haunted.
Styles: douja just pounding away on Lord A now in the corner. douja backs up and charges for a modified dropkick right to Lord A's chest.
SW: Whatever the opposite of hangtime is, douja's got plenty of that.
Styles: And..yet another slam by douja connects. And there's a double stomp to the ribs! And Kurt, who IS actually the legal man, breaks away from Uber Vamp. Those two have been fighting out on the floor down here.
[Several cups full of beer suddenly fly over the ring from left to right and right to left, simultaneously.]
Styles: Oh MAN! The ghosts are at it again! I can't stand dead cheerleaders!
SW: I'm sure they can't stand extreme play-by-play announcers either, Styles.
Styles: Several of our fans are now soaked in beer when they should be drunk on the stuff. Angel with an elbow shot to Uber Vamp. Goodbye! Kurt tosses Lord A to the floor! douja's gets the tag and there's a modified suplex.
SW: Modified? *Pffffft* Botched is more like it.
Styles: douja going right back on the offense.
SW: Hopefully for another slam!
Styles: But Uber Vamp counters and connects with a Transylvanian leg sweep. Now Uber Vamp's got douja locked in, beautifully done underhook belly to belly suplex.
SW: HAHAHA! Look at this! That guy with the "Payback's A Job, Axl!" sign. It's getting ripped up in mid-air all by itself! It's funny, because it calls attention to the sign, AND, the ghosts are ruining that dude's hard work! The Spirit Quad are such HEELS!
Styles: Lord A is in. Santa Clauser! And Lord A bounces off the ropes and dropkicks douja right in the face. Oh, look at this. Lord A is wiping trying to force feed douja a candy cane!
SW: And douja's munching, so he takes it happily.
Styles: Another quick tag. Nice combo there as they hit a double suplex. Lord A drops a leg and Uber Vamp with a splash. What is this. Oh my GOD! Dropkick sandwich to the skull! The Skull & Bones Society looking to crush a skull here tonight.
SW: douja's probably going to forget he's from Parts Forgotten after that one.
Styles: Uber Vamp with a spinebuster slam. Uber Vamp drops the leg. COVER! One! Two and no! Lord A back in. Lord A drops the leg. Uber Vamp drops the leg. They're just trading leg drops here in rapid succession. But that weak ass crap ain't gonna get it done here, no matter how many times you drop the leg. Lord A pulls up douja. He's trying to get an abdominal stretch...I think...
SW: Vertical sit-ups. This is EXTREME, huh, Styles?
Styles: I'm sure it hurts a lot worse than it looks...maybe...Angel's in and he breaks the hold.
SW: Thank you.
Styles: douja brawling his way back into this one. Oh, what a shot. douja crawling to make the tag and he does. Kurt and his technicolor thong are in. He takes down Lord A with a clothesline. ANGEL SLAM! Cover! One! Two! And NO! Somehow, Lord A kicked out. Uber Vamp's in, but Kurt with a droptoe hold and...oh my god! Uber Vamp just went face first into Lord A's crotch! A second ANGEL SLAM connects! douja tosses Uber Vamp to the floor. Uber Vamp grabs Kurt and pulls him outside.
SW: Oh, please fight on the other side. I don't need to see his ass this close up.
Styles: Lord A charges and connects with a boot in the corner on douja. Lord A sets up douja on the top rope. Now Lord A's gets up behind him. DIAMOND DUST!
SW: Did you just see that? Kurt just was thrown toward the Flimsy Guardrail, but the Spirit Quad must've moved it so he tripped and fell! Beautiful.
Styles: Back in the ring, Uber Vamp and Lord A have douja tied to the tree of woe. And oh woe is douja! Dropkicks connect! douja rolling out to the floor. INCOMING! Lord A and Uber Vamp just took out douja and Kurt Angel with suicide dives!
LA: HAIL SANTA!
Styles: Now the Skull & Boners toss Angel back inside.
SW: Here's a career highlight for them. Double teaming a guy in a thong.
Styles: douja comes to Kurt's save. Uber Vamp goes flying to the floor. Lord A's got a North Pole cloverleaf locked on Angel. douja is about to make the save, but, no! Uber Vamp's back in and atomic drop's douja. Here it comes! Corkscrew elbow drop!
SW: You're such a mark for that move.
Styles: Uber Vamp tries for a second one, but douja moves. douja manages to pull Lord A off. Chronic Neck Pain! No! Lord A backdrops douja. But douja with a sunset flip? Are you kidding me? One, two, and no. Lord A gets out. Technical wrestling has broken out here tonight at Appetite for Burritos, God help us all! Kurt's got Lord A. Heaven Suplex. He holds on for a second Heaven Suplex!
Styles: And a third!
Styles: And a fourth!
SW: No wonder these guys need painkillers.
Styles: And another one!
SW: Lord A is like a rag doll at this point. He's done.
Styles: Kurt Angel no doubt trying to weaken the Santanic power of Lord A with a little seven-suplex dose of holiness.
SW: So, what's that mean. douja has to hit 420 Chronic Neck Pain's now? Fuck, we'll be here all night. Lord Athackkimentham will be more paralyzed than that Buffalo Bills player.
Styles: douja locks Lord A into a Parts Forgotten crab!
SW: Maybe we should rename this hold a "roach" in honor of douja.
Styles: Maybe. Uber Vamp's in. IMPALER DDT! Both men are desperately in need of a tag now.
SW: And these idiots are all out of finishing holds.
Styles: Angel gets the tag. Side kick takes Lord A down. And there's a discus punch for Uber Vamp. Kurt setting up Lord A up top. Belly to belly throw! Oh my god, what a thud! douja drops a knee for good measure. Cover! One! Two! And NO! Uber Vamp with the save. Lord A just whipped Kurt into douja, and their heads just cracked.
SW: Crack heads! Gold! BWAHAHAHA!
Styles: Uber Vamp gets the tag. There's a cross body, but Kurt rolls through! ANGEL LOCK! ANGEL LOCK IS ON! Uber Vamp pushes Angel off, but Angel holds on! Uber Vamp pushes himself up and OH, what an enzugeri! Uber Vamp sets up Kurt on the top turnbuckle. And there's an inverted atomic drop! Damn! That had to hurt! Lord A's back in. Here comes the Santanic Slaughter! No! Kurt reverses into a backslide! One! Two! NO! Lord A is up first and just pounding Kurt with punches. Reindeer Clutch. And Uber Vamp with a dropkick to the face!
SW: Oh yeah! We've got blood this time! I think Kurt's nose is busted. Or it could just be from years of drug use. Hard to tell with him.
Styles: Lord A with a brutal kick to Kurt. And there's one to douja on the apron. And douja didn't like that. He's in and nearly takes off Lord A's head with that clothesline. He's got Lord A up. OH MY GOD! He just powerbombed him onto the top turnbuckle! Damn! Now douja waiting for the tag.
SW: What a cheat! You don't see Uber Vamp coming in illegally.
Styles: What match have you been watching?
SW: Illegal is a relative term when Generic Ref is in charge. Besides, it's easy to bait Uber Vamp into the ring. He's a born sucker! Get it?
Styles: douja gets the tag. Boot to Lord A. There's a big boot for Uber Vamp, who is in illegally!
SW: Our country is being overrun with illegal Mexicans and you're worried about one goofy vampire? C'mon, Styles. Have some perspective!
Styles: douja's got Uber Vamp.
SW: Besides, didn't you hear what douja said about Uber Vamp's mama? He said that she was the biggest whore on the North Pole and gave more frostbite than the weather!
Styles: Uber Vamp takes down douja with a wicked armdrag.
SW: Uber Vamp is also really good at another sport aside from wrestling.
Styles: He's good at wrestling?
SW: Just go with it, Styles.
Styles: Alright. Oh really? What other sport is Uber Vamp good at?
SW: Batminton! BWAHAHAHA.
Styles: So not funny. Where are you getting all these jokes from?
SW: The crypt writer!
Styles: Ugh. Look at this! We may be about to see a spike Chronic Neck Pain combo here from the Doobie Brothers! And there it is! One! Two! NOOO! Uber Vamp breaks up the cover at the last second. And Uber Vamp playing a little kickball with douja's face right there. Now they've got douja set up on the top rope. How is Lord A even on his feet right now with the abuse he's taken? Oh NO! Double implant DDT from the top rope! OH my GOD! douja's GOT to be done after that! But Kurt just took down both of them. DOUBLE ANGLE LOCK! He's got both members in the ankle lock submission!
SW: Calm down, Styles. You're gonna pop a blood vessel.
Styles: They pull Kurt down into a double pin! ONE! TWO! douja makes the save! All four men are flat on the mat exhausted. What is this? Death is out here! Oh, come on! Don't ruin this match! This has been one of the best tag team matches...well...ever in BOB.
SW: He's got his mystery crate with him. What's inside. Oh, he just noticed that his fellow Skull & Boners are in the ring.
Styles: Oh, come on, Scotty. You've got to know they planned this all out.
Death: Hey, didn't I kill you. And you. And you. And you? What the hell?
Styles: Does Death have an imaginary friend?
SW: I think he's talking to the Spirit Quad.
Death: Dudes, do me a solid...
Styles: What is the meaning of this?
SW: OOOH BABY! Look at the chick in the front row! Her shirt just came up! Oh! Look over there! More jugs! Oh! Over there! Jugs jugs everywhere!
Styles: Generic Ref has sure taken notice as well. Breasts are popping out all over! Oh my GOD! It's a good thing this is straight to DVD! Death's in the ring. He's got Kurt Angel! NETHERWORLD POWERBOMB! He pulls Uber Vamp on top and gets out of there.
SW: No! More boobs! More boobs!
Generic Ref: More boobs!
Crowd: More boobs! More boobs! More boobs!
Styles: And a chant is born. Lord A screaming at Generic Ref to make the count. He does. One. Two. Three. DAMNIT!
NH: Here are your winners, and STILL Not Good Enough To Fight Alone Tag Team Champions, the Skull & Bones Society.
Styles: That just sucks! douja and Kurt Angel were robbed. Lord Athackkimentham and Uber Vamp just barely escape, still the tag team champions.
[In the lobby of the Riviera Hotel, there are several scantily-clad women standing around.]
Mr. Leary: What is the meaning of this?
Woman: We were told to be here for the big party.
Mr. Leary: What party?
Woman: The one that Eve paid us for. Now, where would you like them all.
Mr. Leary: I don't know a thing about this.
Delivery Guy: Hey, you the guy who ordered the kegs?
Mr. Leary: Kegs?
Delivery Guy: Yeah. I got three kegs of beer here for somebody named Eve.
Mr. Leary: Eve? Eve who?
Delivery Guy: Eve...I can't make out the signature. Look. It's all paid for.
Another Delivery Guy: Where's Eve? The swear machine she ordered is here.
Mr. Leary: Swear machine? Scantily clad women? Booze? Swear machine? This makes no sense!
[BigBOSSes hotel suite. BigBOSS is staring at Eliza, who is mesmerized by something on television. The phone rings.]
BigB: It's OK. Just the phone. Hello? Really? Well...OK...oh? Hmm...Well, that's fine then. When? You got it. Good to hear from you.
[He hangs up.]
Eliza: Who was that?
BigB: You'd never believe me.
Eliza: I dunno. I'm pretty gullible.
BigB: How gullible?
Eliza: Very gullible.
[She shuts off the television.]
Eliza: Like, if you told me who that was. Or...if you told me that you were single...
BigB: Excuse me?
Eliza: I know you were looking at me.
[The door opens. BigBOSS runs toward the door.]
BigB: Hi, HONEY!
Mrs. Behave: Why are you shouting?
BigB: I'M HAPPY TO SEE YOU, MY LOVING WIFE!
Mrs. Behave: Hello, Eliza.
Mrs. Behave: What's so funny.
BigB: NOT A THING POOPIEKINS!
Mrs. Behave: What? Stuart, I think these ghosts have made you go a little mad.
BigB: YEAH, THE GHOSTS!
Mrs. Behave: Would you stop shouting?
BigB: SORRY! RIGHT! *Ahem* Right!
[Eliza smiles at BigBOSS.]
[Back in the BOB Ballroom, "Come Out And Play" by Offspring is playing.]
NH: The following is a match. Introducing first. This is Pigeon.
SW: Is Heidi doing a Mike Monotone impersonation? If so, it's spot on. Bravo!
Styles: What are you supposed to say about Pigeon? Here comes the biggest lovesick puppy champion of the world?
SW: That'd be accurate. Loser. What is this?
[Michelle walks out, dressed in a matching Pigeon outfit.]
SW: Grunge never looked so good.
Styles: Michelle has done nothing but torment Pigeon for months. She knows he's in love with her, but she's just using it against him.
SW: Well, she is drunk. I've got one word for Pigeon: roofie.
Styles: That's terrible! I can't believe you said that.
SW: After everything else I've said, you're still shocked by me? How much more crude humor do you have to hear before you become desensitized to it?
Pigeon: Since it's September, there's one thing on everybody's minds. Fall. And when I think of fall, I think of falling...in love.
SW: *Coughcoughcough* BWAHAHAHAHA! What a jackass!
Styles: I don't think I've ever seen you shoot water out your nose before, Scotty. And I hope I never see it again.
Pigeon: My love for Michelle is as deep as a pile of fallen leaves.
Pigeon: Michelle, last month, I beat up a woman for you. That redheaded bitch, Kay Fabe. Doesn't that count for anything anymore? I fought for your love. I beat the crap out of Kay! What about me? WHAT ABOUT PIGEON!
Michelle: You know...you don't smell as bad as usual when I'm drunk! Tell you what...I'm gonna show you something special right now!
[Michelle unbuttons a button on her flannel shirt and pulls open the material a little bit to show some belly skin.]
Michelle: Take a look at this flesh. Couldn't you just lick it for hours, Pigeon?
Styles: Oh, quit tormenting Pigeon already!
Michelle: All you have to do tonight, is beat Dr. Thrilla. And I'll let you lick my belly. Good luck, sexy boy.
SW: Oh, Christ! Why do I bet in a month Pigeon will have a song about being a "boy toy." (Singing) He's just a sexy boy. He's Michelle's boy toy.
Styles: The Broken Hearted Kid?
SW: Paid a dime and only farted? What?
["Under The Knife" by AC/DC plays. Dr. Thrilla heads toward the ring.]
NH: And his opponent. From Tijuana, Mexico, Dr. Thrilla!
Styles: This should be a brutal contest.
SW: Yeah, for me to watch. I'll just stare at the holes in Michelle's clothes and piece her together naked.
Styles: Thanks, as always, for your help. Thrilla's got the side headlock on Pigeon. Oh man, what a kick by Thrilla. The fans are loving this brutalization by Dr. Thrilla. But Pigeon fighting back and knocks Dr. Thrilla down with a clothesline. We've got a stalemate here.
Michelle: Hey guys! Wassssuppppppp!
SW: Michelle, I was just admiring your outfit. I wish it had more holes.
Michelle: These aren't my best holes, heeeeheee!
SW: Oh, baby. Will you forget that idiot Pigeon?
Michelle: I've reclaimed my virginity, sorry Scotty.
SW: What's that mean? Is that like a recovering alcoholic?
Michelle: Yeah. I mean, if I told you HALF the shit I did with Trey, oh MAN. I can't believe it even!
SW: Like what?
Michelle: You know...like he'd make me dress up as a she-devil and stab him with a fork...or putting a picture of Sarah on the back of my head---
Styles: I don't want to hear any of this! Please! Too much information!
SW: Not enough! Please, tell me more. You're so hot.
Styles: This isn't the Howard Stern show. This is BOB.
SW: It's the Scotty Whatbody show. Nobody cares about this match. They won't some hot porn stuff that'll give 'em a chubby.
Michelle: Oh, I can't say anymore. Especially not about the Hot Pockets sex.
SW: The what? Oh, now you have to tell me about this.
Michelle: Well, Trey loved Hot Pockets. So...you know...You see what they're shaped like, OK?
SW: Humina humina humina! Oh BABY! You're wild!
Michelle: Not anymore. I'm not doing that crazy stuff anymore with anybody. Just imagine the shit Pigeon would want to do with me. I have to break him down to the point where I'm in control of EVERYTHING.
Michelle: I can't believe I'm telling you this! God, I just can't drink enough tonight.
SW: Can I have one?
Michelle: Sure. Styles? Don't forget to do your job.
Styles: I'm just so distracted right now...PESCADO! Pigeon with a nice suicide dive there on Dr. Thrilla.
SW: Ahhhh! Man, this is kinda...warm.
Michelle: Well, if you don't want it.
SW: Hey, a warm beer is better than NO beer, I always say!
Michelle: HAHAHAHAHA! YES!
SW: Are you really going to let Pigeon lick that milky white belly of yours if he wins?
Michelle: Wanna know a secret, but shhhhhhhhh! He isn't gonna win!
Michelle: Yeah! I totally booked a screwjob ending! HAHAHAHAHA!
SW: Nice. Oh yeah! Right here!
[The 2-Cheap-2-Own TV lights up.]
Michelle: Hey! It isn't time yet! WTF?
Hallucination Boy: Halluc-y!
Snapmare Kid: Snappy!
Kamikazie Ken: Kamikazie!
Coma + HB + SMK + KK: And we are....possessed by the Spirit Quad!
[Some generic cheerleading music mixed with some scary pipe organ music plays.]
Michelle: No! Damn Kay Fabe!
[The foursome runs out all dressed in unmatching male cheerleader outfits. Kamikazie Ken is carrying a small barbed wire trampoline.]
Styles: Ken, Coma, Snapmare Kid and Hallucination Boy are in the ring and they are attacking Pigeon! Generic Ref's calling for the DQ!
Michelle: Damnit! Now Pigeon has to lick me!
SW: You could just be a bitch and tell him he didn't win by pin or submission.
Michelle: Brilliant! Here's $10! Spend it wisely!
SW: Sweet! Strip club, here I come!
Styles: Pigeon gets snapmared onto the barbed wire trampoline! Oh my GOD! And the Spirit Quad...I guess? Have cleared the ring.
SW: Oh, crap. I think they're gonna do a cheer.
Possessing Spirit Quad: C-U-N-T!
Michelle likes to get on her knees!
Hey, hey, you cunt!
Hey, hey, you cunt!
Hey, hey, you cunt!
Michelle: FUCK YOU SPIRIT QUAD. F-U-C-K Y-O-U!
Styles: Give me Michelle's beer, please.
SW: Here you go.
Styles: I never needed a beer so badly.
Styles: Bloody hell.
SW: The Undietaker? Is he going to steal some ghost undies?
Styles: Was Michelle on acid when she booked this match?
SW: Maybe. She is quite drunk now. I don't know where she got all this beer, but I'm glad she does.
Styles: You're not making sense. You're blibbering.
Styles: I need a break. Thank god it's time for that HWO Swiss Army Belt match thingee that's going on.
SW: Oh, right. Let's go finish off this beer. Oh, and just for everyone watching at home. Wedgie-Aided Chokeslam From Hell times six. Undietake times six. Peace.
*Sound of headsets crashing*
[Styles and Scotty walk around the ring as Undietaker begins his six chokeslams and undietakes. Well...um...yeah...let's just go to the HWO.]
[And here we are. The Netherworld Wrestling Organization. And yes, I just renamed it that. Ignore that HWO crap. *Ahem*]
Scuzz: Androgynous light blobs and demons, the following match at One Coffee Table is scheduled for one fall, and is for the Brawlers On a Budget Swiss Army Belt! Introducing first, from Earth, this is Jim "Totally Packaged"!
Gorilla Monsoon: Hello everybody, and welcome to the Netherworld Wrestling Organization.
Death: Good to see you again, Gorilla.
GM: The feeling isn't mutual, Death. But we've got a big match coming up right now, folks. And there's a big look of confidence on the kisser of Jim here.
Death: I'm just waiting for a Chris Benoit run-in.
GM: Would you listen to that ovation for Jim?
Death: Dead people have no taste.
GM: I thought you were the Swiss Army Belt holder?
Death: Yeah, well, I vacated the title due to personal reasons.
Death: Yeah. I didn't want to do the job!
GM: Would you stop it!
Death: These guys aren't in my league!
Scuzz: Introducing next. He is from Dimension Z. Mr. Paradox.
GM: I doubt Mr. Paradox was expecting this sort of reaction.
Death: Does anybody get booed here?
GM: No way, Death. Negativity is confined to the lower realms.
Death: And what's with the entrance music? It's the same for everybody. You on a lower budget than BOB?
GM: That's the way it works here in the NWO. And in this entire dimension.
Death: I feel like I should be getting a massage, Gorilla. My bones are so sore. My job is way too stressful.
Scuzz: Introducing next. From Earth, this is Massive Man Rendition First.
GM: This match could be a main event in any dimension, Death.
Death: BWAHAHAHA! Good one, Gorilla! You haven't lost a thing.
GM: Who do you like in this one, Death?
Death: I don't like any of them! BWAHAHAHA!
GM: I should've known. And here we go. There goes Jim to the floor! And Massive Man gets rid of Mr. Paradox!
Death: You think we'll see any team work between Jim and Massive Man in this one?
GM: That's gotta be weighing on the mind of Mr. Paradox. And here we go again, as both Jim and Massive Man are teaming up on Mr. Paradox.
Death: No fair! This is two on one!
GM: They're really doing a number on him, Death.
Death: This dimension wouldn't even let Mr. Paradox have his sword. How fair is that?
GM: This one's gonna be decided on who the best man is.
Death: Really? I thought it was gonna be decided by BigBOSS.
GM: Oh, please. Mr. Paradox is fighting off Jim and Massive Man. Paradox going for a splash on Jim, but Massive Man grabs his foot from the outside. Oh what a dropkick by Jim!
Death: And that sent Paradox all the way to the floor. But that's not like any floor you'll see in the Earth dimension, Gorilla. Our floor don't glow quite as nicely. Not even after using Mr. Clean!
GM: Paradox is doing a number on Jim out here on the floor. Would you look at this! Oh, he just kicked his shoulder into the post.
Death: None of these guys are nearly as good as me.
GM: I heard Mr. Paradox has your number.
Death: That's a vicious lie, Gorilla!
GM: Massive Man just pulled Paradox out to the floor. And now Massive Man and Jim squaring off.
Death: The Kent Staters explode!
GM: Massive Man hits the Sideways Effect! Massive Man waiting to perhaps hit the Leap Of Fate, but Mr. Paradox just kicked Jim right out of the way and Massive Man misses! Double suplex coming up! But Jim and Massive Man reverse it and deliver a double team suplex! Massive Man with a swinging Sideways Effect in Paradox! One! Two! No, he couldn't get him.
Death: How would you like to be in there facing two slackers from Ohio?
GM: Leap Of Fate connects on Mr. Paradox! And now he charges at Jim! He missed it! Massive Man all the way to the floor! Listen to this crowd! Paradox with a Reverse Backbreaker With A Spanish Twist! He's got the cover! One! Two! Massive Man's back in! Leap Of Fate on Paradox!
Death: I can't believe this, Gorilla!
GM: That's it! Massive Man just won the title!
Scuzz: Here is your winner, and NEW BOB Swiss Army Belt champion...Massive Man Rendition First!
GM: Well folks, that's gonna do it tonight for us here in the NWO. Thanks for joining us at One Coffee Table! Massive Man is victorious here tonight.
Death: Maybe they'll return to Earth, now that they've made Jack Tunney happy. And maybe they'll grace us with their presence in the Rant Zone.
GM: You can hope.
Death: I'm outta here. Got some stuff to take care of back on Earth. Peace out!
Styles: Welcome back to Sin City, fans. As you can see, Sir Zeno is already in the ring, but he doesn't look ready to wrestle.
SW: Yeah, what's with the crutches?
Sir Zeno: Earlier tonight, I was quite pissed off about having to wrestle such a second rate wrestler as Dr. Silaconne M. Plants. However, once I was threatened with losing my paycheck, I came to my senses. And I decided I would indeed entertain my legion of fans here in Sin City.
Styles: Oh, please!
SW: What a brave soldier.
Styles: Don't buy into this crap, Scotty.
SW: Crap? Zeno is a wounded solider. How dare you mock the wounded soldiers!
Styles: I'm not mocking anything! And he's not wounded. And he's not a soldier.
SZ: I just received this note right here a few minutes ago from my personal doctor...Dr. Thrilla...
SZ: And Dr. Thrilla said I am physically unable to compete due to a serious groin injury I suffered earlier this evening when I was violated by Axl Van Halen. Van Halen! Once I get back from this injury, you're going to die horribly.
SZ: Hell, that fetus in Anne O'Rexic's belly is tougher than you, Van Halen.
Styles: Did he just admit to being the father?
SW: I didn't hear that. And I was listening.
Styles: He just said "my fetus"!
SW: Not anymore. Problem solved.
Caption: Last Edit: Today at 9:57pm by Scotty Whatbody
Styles: What!? How did you do that?
SW: My secret.
SZ: Now, I would never leave BOB hanging. So, instead of Dr. Silaconne M. Plants fighting me, he will face this man...
[The lights in the Ballroom dim.]
[The crowd pops as some creepy pipe organ music with keyboard action plays. Slowly, the Undietaker walks down the aisle, ripping some underwear from fans near the aisle.]
Styles: It's apparently lose your underwear night here in BOB.
SW: I hope he goes after Heidi's panties. Now if only there was a Brataker. Oooh! Valet idea! I should pitch that to Leary. He'll probably OK that. Misty Waters is pretty boring lately.
[Cut to a hotel room, where Misty Waters is laying around with some other girl.]
MW: I'm bored...Wanna have a naked pillow fight?
Girl: Yeah, alright.
[There's a knock on the door.]
MW: Whoops. Hold on...
[Misty heads to the door. It's Mr. Leary.]
Mr. Leary: Misty, are you busy? Because Scotty just had a GREAT idea for you.
[Back to ringside.]
SW: Wait! Naked pillow fight? THAT'S NOT BORING! *Sigh* I hope she comes out here and takes Heidi's bra before the end of the night, or else...I just don't know, Styles. I didn't see that mentioned on the script!
Styles: That must be from when Alex Smith got ink all over it.
["Smooth Operator" by Sade plays next. The crowd boos.]
NH: And his opponent. The Sinister Surgeon. The Smooth Operator. The one. The only. Dr. Silaconne M. Plants.
SW: Wow. SMP's looking a bit disheveled tonight, Styles.
Styles: He sure is. What is up with this?
SW: He's really taking Axl winning the OWTTM hard.
Styles: But at least he showed up ready to work, unlike a certain other wrestler.
SW: BOB: Lowering you expectations since 1999!
Styles: What was that?
SW: BOB's new slogan. You like?
Styles: It's a little depressing.
SW: Yeah, well so is working here.
Styles: And Undietaker just got the jump on SMP. Oh what an uppercut. Damn! SMP tossed to the corner and Undietaker is unloading with fists of undie-fueled fury. SMP off the ropes and SMP eats an elbow. Undietaker drops the elbow. SMP trying to get up, and SMP eats a boot.
SW: And despite his groin pain, Sir Zeno is still out here. What a shining example for everyone to look up to.
Styles: A liar? A guy who bribes his way to the top? I think we've GOT enough of those sorts of people running around free today. Slam by Undietaker. SMP is in a lot of trouble tonight, and he just isn't himself.
SW: Maybe Insano Mano is dressed up as SMP. Ever think of that?
Styles: I don't think so, Scotty. Undietaker continuing to blast away on SMP. And now Undietaker is choking SMP on the bottom rope. Undietaker is dominating SMP. I can't believe this.
SW: Yeah, he hasn't even ranted in years. Why's he still getting a push?
Styles: Now Undietaker's got SMP trapped in the corner. Undietaker grabs SMP by the arm and is about to take SMP to Wedgie High. He walks the top rope and, OH, what a WEDGIE! Undietaker pulls up SMP and whips him to the ropes. Big boot misses. SMP with a chop.
SW: Undietaker with a no-sell.
Styles: Another chop.
SW: Another no-sell.
Styles: SMP heads to the middle rope, but Undietaker with a punch, and oh my GOD, SMP just hit the floor!
SW: What is Heidi doing? OH BABY! Heidi just took off her OWN bra! And she just tossed it to the Undietaker!
[Cut to Misty's hotel room. Misty is wearing a big hat, black bra and a trenchcoat. There is a knock at the door, so Misty answers.]
MW: Hey, boss. How do I look?
Mr. Leary: We're gonna have to cancel The Brataker.
MW: Can I keep the outfit?
Mr. Leary: I dunno. It was pretty expensive.
MW: What if I let YOU play the part of the bra taker...come in here...
[Back to the ring.]
SW: She is such a whore! Can I go visit her room?
Styles: Not right now, Scotty. But Heidi has provided a distraction.
SW: Yeah. Those nips are just DYING to come through that top. She's freetittin' it!
Styles: Undietaker is distracted enough. What is SMP doing now? Is that a mallet he's got? Oh MAN! He just hit Undietaker in the back of the head! And the crowd doesn't like it one bit. SMP gets rid of the evidence and makes the cover! One! Two! And NO! Undietaker kicked out! I don't believe it.
SW: Yeah, I can't believe Generic Ref stopped looking at Nurse Heidi's tits long enough to make the count either.
Styles: You STILL haven't stopped looking.
SW: I'm hoping a nipple or two pop out.
Styles: Oh, for the love of...would you please put that camera away and focus on your job?
SW: You're no fun, Styles.
Styles: SMP has just locked on a Surgical Clutch, targeting Undietaker injured neck, and no doubt looking to soften him up for the Nipple Cutter. Undietaker trying to power his way up, so SMP drops the hold. Swinging neck breaker takes Taker back down.
SW: Why does Heidi like this geezer so much? I'm way younger and way hotter than SMP.
Styles: You are? News to me.
SW: You want those glasses shoved through your eyeballs?
Styles: Undietaker trying to fight his way back into this match. SMP gets whipped into the corner. Taker charges and connects with a BRUTAL clothesline. Off the ropes, and big boot takes SMP down. Slam coming up, no! This could be a tombstone piledriver coming up here.
SW: No, Styles. I think this is the Tombstone Undietake! I've heard about this move.
Styles: You're right, Scotty. Undietaker is trying to get SMP undies. Oh, but SMP counters with a double knee shot to the face and both men are down. That was an ugly landing for SMP.
SW: Luckily his face broke the fall.
Styles: Heidi is back up on the apron. Undietaker sees her and, OH NO! He's got Heidi by the throat! He just pulled her into the ring. SMP with a rollup from behind! One, two and NO! Undietaker kicks out! Both men quickly up, and SMP runs right into a goozle! SMP with some shots to Undietaker's injured neck break the goozle. DDT by SMP. One. Two. And...NO! Undietaker has some life left in him.
SW: And sadly, Heidi's top still has her tits in them.
Styles: SMP just took the padding off the corner buckles. Heidi just tossed SMP the mallet! But Generic Ref took it away. SMP quickly trying to ram Undietaker's face into the exposed turnbuckle. But Undietaker blocks. Oh NO! SMP goes into the buckle.
SW: Holy SHIT! He's bleeding like a stuck pig already! What a sick blade--
Styles: SMP is wearing the crimson mask! And he is losing a lot of blood. That may be it for SMP.
SW: Zeno looks quite happy now. This one should be all over in a few seconds now. Well, at least I know what happened to all the aspirin earlier.
Styles: Undietaker waiting on SMP to get up. Goozle! Here comes the Wedgie-Aided Chokeslam From Hell! And...NO! NIPPLE CUTTER! NIPPLE CUTTER! ONE! TWO! THREE! HEGOTHIM! Unbelievable! SMP countered the chokeslam with a Nipple Cutter in mid-air!
SW: That was pretty cool.
Styles: Hello! Sir Zeno just blasted SMP in the head with that crutch.
SW: He's healed! It's a miracle.
Styles: Zeno was never hurt, Scotty! He just didn't want to face SMP.
SW: I wonder what's more painful. Knowing Axl Van Halen beating you to the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS, or getting a crutch broken over your skull.
Styles: We'll have to ask him when he wakes up. IF he wakes up. And now Zeno is smashing the other crutch over SMP's body. I have a feeling we haven't heard the end of this feud after this assault on SMP.
SW: Somebody better cancel SMP's clients on Monday. I don't think he'll be making it in to A Girl's Breast Friend.
Sir Zeno: I told you I wouldn't wrestle.
Crowd: Zeno! Zeno! Zeno!
SZ: And before the end of the night, I will be the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS.
Styles: Come on! Enough is enough. Undietaker and Zeno continuing to beat down on SMP.
[Pigeon is quickly in the ring.]
Styles: Oh man! Pigeon just threw a chair at Undietaker's head and connected. Pigeon is here for some payback! Pigeon Drop on Undietaker! And Zeno is getting out of there. He doesn't want any more to do with Pigeon after their recent brutal wars.
SW: Sure, they were brutal, but Zeno won the war. He doesn't have to prove anymore to Pigeon.
Styles: Are we going to have another Insano Mano impersonator tonight?
SW: It sure sounds like it. And I bet Zeno will be the champion before the end of the night, Styles. Mark my words.
Styles: Why? You'll just edit them if you're wrong.
SW: Yeah, you're probably right.
Styles: Well, Pigeon has come to SMP's rescue tonight. SMP gets the win. But I think we've just heard the opening shot in a war from Sir Zeno. Well fans, up next, it's the main event. Axl Van Halen defends the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS against Insano Mano.
[Insano Mano is waiting to get onto an elevator. He whistles a tune while waiting.]
Styles: There is Insano Mano, the challenger for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS.
SW: Yeah, but is it REALLY Insano Mano. Or is it Insano Zeno?
Styles: It looks like Mano. But I can't be 100 percent sure.
SW: So this is our pre-main event walking footage? Waiting for an elevator? Oh the drama!
[The elevator beeps and the doors open.]
IM: Oh, es usted. ¿Cuál es usted tan feliz alrededor?
Styles: Who's he talking to?
SW: I can't see. Stupid camera angle!
[Insano Mano gasps.]
IM: Veo. Pienso que usted mejoraría gota él. ¡Dije... gota él!
[Grunts of a struggle.]
IM: ¡Consiga... su... da... apagado!
[The doors close as we see Insano Mano struggling with somebody.]
SW: Screw job anyone?
[Back to the Ballroom.]
Fans: Time to job, Axl, time to job! *Clap clap* Time to job, Axl, time to job! *Clap clap* Time to job, Axl, time to job! *Clap clap*
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is the main event, and is for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. And there will be NO DISQUALIFICATION!
[The crowd cheers loudly.]
Styles: It is? That's not on my format!
SW: Oh, this doesn't bode well for Axl. But it bodes well for everyone else! BWAHAHAHA!
Styles: Do you know what's happening?
SW: I know nothing!
["Mexican Hat Dance" by the Arriba Brothers plays.]
Styles: Here we go!
NH: Introducing first, the challenger. From Suicida, Mexico! Weighing in at 210 pounds, this is Insano Mano!
[Insano Mano jumps through the entryway, then looks behind him nervously, sucking on a lollipop. He gets almost a heroic cheer from the fans.]
Styles: Last month, Insano Mano was screwed out of his chance to defeat Sir Zeno for the OWTTM. Now he gets the shot he earned at Comeback's A Bitch.
SW: Heh, it looks like Mano keeps checking to see who the fans are really cheering for. He's not used to such a reaction.
Styles: What happened in the elevator? Is that REALLY Insano Mano?
SW: I guess we won't know until the end of the match.
Axl Van Halen: Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOOOOOOOAAAAAA!
[The crowd boos loudly as Axl Van Halen stomps down the aisle, followed by Jonny Leppard, Jimmy Whitesnake and Joey Dio of Gunzz and YoYozzz, or GaYY, who are carrying a scale.]
SW: Look at these pussies. It takes THREE of them to carry one scale?
AVH: Hold your mule there, Insano Mano, if that IS your real name. Before I grace these pathetic fans with my wrestling glory, we're going to have an official weigh in.
[Leppard, Whitesnake and Dio appear baffled about how to get the scale into the ring.]
SW: How many fags does it take to get a scale into the ring? BWAHAHAHA.
[Axl hits Jonny over the head with a microphone.]
AVH: Get it in there now. Or there's more where that came from.
[GaYY struggles to lift the scale onto the apron. Laughing, Generic Ref walks over and pulls the scale into the ring with one hand.]
Crowd: Generic Ref! Generic Ref! Generic Ref!
SW: Generic Ref is more over than all of GaYY combined!
Styles: And he hasn't cut a promo....ever!
SW: I'm sure it'd be better than any of Axl's. At least he wouldn't create a stupid federation full of jobbers to job out to him. And I bet he wouldn't have to resort to impersonating Earl Hebner or Nick Patrick or any other stupid referees to get over as a stupid referee, because he IS a stupid referee.
AVH: Insano Mano. Get on this scale-o, NOWO!
[Insano Mano looks around at the fans, as if he can't believe this is going on. He takes the lollipop out of his mouth and flicks it at Axl, getting a pop from the crowd. Mano steps on the scale.]
AVH: What's it say, Joey?
Joey: (Singing) In the dark of the day or the black of the sun, he's coming for YOU! LOOK OUT!
SW: BWAHAHAHAHA! OK, THAT was funny!
IM: Usted es un fago divertido.
AVH: Generic Ref? What's it say?
[Generic Ref pretends he's having a sneezing fit and walks away.]
Styles: That was odd...
SW: Never put Generic Ref in charge of the NASA space launch countdowns. Fuck.
Styles: He faked the sneezing fit to hide that he can't count? Everybody knows he can't count.
AVH: Alright. I can see that if I'm going to get anything done, I have to do it.
[Axl gets down on his knees. Insano Mano runs from the scale, getting a huge comedy pop from the crowd.]
AVH: Get back on the scale, you horny little devil!
IM: ¡No deseo mi próstata examinada!
AVH: What did he just say?
Jimmy: I think he just said he didn't want his prostate examined by you.
Styles: For the love of...
[Styles heads to the ring.]
Styles: Excuse me. In the interest of moving this segment along, I'll read Insano Mano's weight. Come on, Mano. No prostate exams. I just want to read your weight.
[Mano comes back and gets on the scale.]
Styles: 210 pounds. Are you satisfied...actually, I probably shouldn't be asking you that, should I?
AVH: No, I'm not satisfied yet.
[Axl reaches down the front of his pink leather pants.]
Styles: Oh my GOD! Don't do it, Axl!
[Mano covers his eyes. Axl starts pulling out something small, white and long...]
SW: That's a really limp...OH, it's a tape measure.
AVH: I will not be satisfied until I'm sure that Insano Mano is six-feet tall and not six-feet-three inches tall!
AVH: Because Sir Zeno is 6-3! And I will NOT be screwed out of my title tonight!
[The crowd boos!]
SW: *Snort* What the fuck?
Specter: Hi, Scotty!
SW: Not you again! You're dead! Why don't you go to hell where you belong!
Specter: Ah, but I AM where I belong. And you'll be here eventually, too.
SW: Shit. Do I have to be a gay cheerleader, too?
Specter: Give me an S! Give be a C! Give me a--
SW: Damnit, why can't I think of any prayers, but I know the lyrics to every fucking Phil Collins song! Umm...(Singing) I can feel it, coming in the air tonight...oh LORD!
SW: Nice. Phil Collins works almost as well as the Bible. I should start a part-time exorcism business.
Styles: He is six feet tall. Are you happy now?
AVH: I could use some DNA evidence...
Styles: Oh my GOD! That's it! Start the match.
AVH: NOOOOO! I haven't gotten my introduction! Nurse Heidi...do your thing, you big ugly slut!
NH: Excuse me?
[Heidi charges at Axl, does a Thesz press and starts pounding on his face.]
Styles: CAT FIGHT! CAAAAAAT FIIIIIIIIGHT!
[Jonny, Joey and Jimmy pull Nurse Heidi off and toss her to the mat.]
Jimmy: Ewww. I've got girl all over me! Axl!
[Styles leaves the ring, as does Nurse Heidi.]
AVH: Enough! INTRODUCING...THE MAN...THE MAYOR OF NOWHERE...THE METAL GOD...THE SAVIOR...THE ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS! AXL! VAN! HALEN!
[The crowd boos.]
Styles: Who got ectoplasm all over my chair, Scotty?
SW: It wasn't me!
Styles: I hope to GOD that this IS ectoplasm, and not Axlplasm.
SW: BWAHAHAHAHA! You're sitting in Axl spunk!
[A shot of the mystery crate near the entryway.]
Styles: And there it is, that mystery crate is looming near the entryway. What secret may it contain?
SW: The only clues so far were that it smells and it's something you're going to love. Is that the one from Mexico, or North Dakota?
Styles: All I know is nothing good ever came out of North Dakota.
SW: Out of the bunghole of America? C'mon, you're being too hard on them, aren't you?
Styles: It looks like we're finally ready to start this main event after all the pre-match shenanigans.
Fans: Time to job, Axl, time to job! *Clap clap* Time to job, Axl, time to job! *Clap clap* Time to job, Axl, time to job! *Clap clap*
Styles: And here we go. Mano charges and connects with a cartwheel dropkick! And there's a corkscrew dropkick right to Axl's face. Mano off the ropes...Asai dropkick! And Axl bails out of the ring to regroup.
SW: Aww, a sweet group hug from Team GaYY.
Styles: INCOMING! Mano just took down GaYY with a somersault suicida!
SW: They like going down. Nothing new for them.
Styles: Mano tosses Van Halen back inside. But Axl's got him up for a delayed slam.
SW: Oh, man, he had his hand on Mano's crotch way too long there.
Styles: Axl drops an elbow and makes the cover! One! Two and no. Mano easily escapes.
[There is a dull thumping noise.]
SW: Look at the crate. It's moving! Something's alive in there, Styles.
Styles: Axl just stuck a thumb in Mano's eye. But Mano's got that mask on and it has no effect! Oh, that spin kick sure had an effect on Axl's head. Mano on the apron. Springboard double stomp to Axl's midsection connects! Beautifully done. Standing shooting star press! Damn! One! Two! No.
*THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP*
SW: Whoever's in that crate seems to be trying to break his or her way out.
Styles: Van Halen once again trying to get away, but Mano is heading up top! AY DIOS MIO!
[Huge pop! From the fans, not the crate.]
Styles: Missile dropkick suicida to the FLOOR! Now Mano is trying to get up on the Flimsy Guardrail®. But Van Halen crotches Mano on the rail! HOODANCONRANA! And Van Halen has just fought his way back into this match.
SW: It's more like Mano killing himself out of it. Did you see him bounce off the floor from that missile dropkick? What a moron.
Styles: At least he's a company moron. I doubt he'll trash the title belt if he wins it here tonight!
*THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP*
SW: I just hope he doesn't ask for a raise. We'll have to call immigration...
Styles: Mano just got rammed into the steel post.
SW: Wow, he hit so hard it bent one of his horns!
Styles: What is Axl doing here. OH NO! NOOOOO!
Styles: He just hit the Rock-O-Lution through the Flimsy Guardrail®!
Crowd: Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!
Styles: And Van Halen's looking a lot more confident now. He's trying to shovel Mano's carcass off the floor and get him in the ring. Oh, but first, he rams Mano's skull into the post once again. Van Halen shoves Mano onto the apron and...Van Halen off the ropes with a baseball slide dropkick. And Mano falls to the floor with another sickening thud.
*THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP*
[Suddenly, several scantily-clad women run down the aisle and get into the ring and start dancing.]
SW: Is it time for a sexy party?
Styles: It sure is!
SW: Humina humina humina!
Styles: Axl doesn't look too happy with this.
SW: You're looking at Axl? Freak!
Styles: Check it out! Mano's back up. Springboard elbow!
SW: Holy shit! Boobs are popping out everywhere! NIPPLEMANIA IS RUNNING WILD IN SIN CITY! WOOHOOO!
Styles: *Ahem* I hope the girls are OK after that. Mano heads to the ropes, but Axl is quickly up there. Oh, Nowhere leg sweep from the middle rope! Nice counter by Van Halen there.
*THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP*
SW: Nurse Heidi is tending to the sexy injured girls. I'd be their lumpy gurney anyday.
Styles: Van Halen's got Mano all locked up in a...body scissors and is wrenching back on Mano's head. Van Halen looking for the submission here.
SW: Or the orgasm. What's with the dry humping?
Styles: Van Halen drops the hold. There is a nasty stomp. Cover! One! Two! And no! Van Halen pulling up Mano by the legs.
SW: Yowza. They're literally crotch to crotch right there.
Styles: Oh my god! Wheelbarrow slam! He just planted Mano face first into the mat. Van Halen pulling him over, Mano with a rollup! ONE! TWO! NO! I thought he had him there, Scotty.
SW: I'd like to have her. And her and her and her and her!
Styles: Axl's back up. He's got...a bear hug?
*THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP*
Styles: Axl, trying to either cop a feel or drain the life out of Insano Mano with this submission move. Mano trying to fight free. He's got Axl's hold broken. He grabs Axl and charges toward the ropes! INCOMING!
Styles: OH MY GOD! Mano just went through our EZ Break Announce Table!
Crowd: Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!
*THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP CRACK*
SW: Crack? That's different.
Styles: It seems like whoever's in the crate has just broken through...hold on. If Insano Mano is right here at our feet, then who is THAT in the ring?
[A man wearing the exact same Insano Mano outfit is now in the ring.]
SW: And since when is Insano Mano black?
Styles: Insano Blacko just blasted Axl Van Halen with a giant bong!
SW: Nice delayed sound effect...*Sigh*
Styles: COVER! One! Two! And NO! Somebody just pulled off Insano Blacko.
*CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK*
SW: Think it's a coincidence that all these cracks are starting now that douja's in the ring?
Styles: That's horrible to say, Scotty! Besides, I don't think he smokes crack.
SW: It's another Mano?
Styles: The REAL Insano Mano is still down here at our feet! Who's this one?
Styles + SW: COMA?
Styles: Insano Como with an abdominal claw to Insano Blacko! Goodbye! Blacko is sent to the floor. Now Como heading for Axl! Baseball back rake! COVER! ONE! TWO! GaYY just pulled off Coma! Dio is getting in Generic Ref's face now. Generic Ref just knocked out Dio! What a right! Whitesnake charges! Generic Ref's got him! Samoan drop! And now here comes Leppard! Generic Ref kicks him in the gut. STONECUTTER!
Styles: Insano Blacko is back in the ring! He's got Coma. Chronico Necko Paino!
[Another Mano enters the ring.]
SW: Was that....
Styles: NIPPLECUTTER ON BLACKO! Insano Plantso has arrived!
SW: There's no way SMP was going to let DOUJA get the OWTTM!
Styles: SMP has been waiting for this moment for a long, LONG time. And I think we're about to see the Sinistero Surgeono operate!
SW: Is Mano unconscious?
Styles: It sure looks like it. Plantso pulls up Van Halen. Oh no! Here's it comes. The Scalpel's Edge! Cover! One! Two! NO! ANOTHER Mano is out here and just grabbed Planto's ankle!
SW: That's gotta be Insano Angelo!
Styles: Angelo Lock! Angelo Lock!
SW: But he can't get a submission on Plantso!
Styles: With the amount of chaos going on right now, I bet he could! Plantso is locked in the hold, but Plantso kicks free! Nipple Cutter! NO! ANGELO SLAM! ANGELO SLAM!
[Angelo rips his shirt open, since he doesn't have straps to pull down.]
Styles: And now Van Halen is in the Angelo Lock! Van Halen is SCREAMING in pain! I bet he would have preferred unconsciousness at this point.
SW: Hold on! We've got somebody else in there now. Midgeto Mano?
Styles: Was that a...JJ DROP?
SW: No WAY!
*CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK*
Styles: It's Insano JJo! He just took down with Angelo with a JJo Dropo! JJ DROPO for Van Halen! ONE! TWO! NO! Now who is THIS?
SW: Insano Fato?
Styles: Insano Bohemotho! Goodbye. He tosses JJo to the floor!
SW: Are all the former OWTTM champs coming back here tonight or something?
Styles: Payback's are a job, indeed. My god, Scotty, if he splashes Van Halen, there's no way ANYBODY will be able to pull Bohemoth off!
SW: What the fuck is that idiot doing?
Styles: Oh NO! Don't climb the ropes!
Styles: Oh my god! Bohemoth just broke the ropes! And he missed Axl by a mile! What was he thinking?
SW: He's insano. He's a bohemotho. He's Insano Bohemotho!
Styles: Insano Plantso and Insano doujo are brawling around ringside in a feud that never seems to end.
SW: Wait, did SMP ever win the OWTTM?
Styles: Technically, no. But he did BUY it.
SW: Hold on. We've got another luchadore in the ring. Is that...the great WHITE luchadore?
Styles: Don't tell me. Insano Polaro?
IP: I'm from Mexico, damnit!
Styles: He's got Axl up. The Migraine connects! What a brainbuster! Billy Polar has just come back to BOB and is going to save our title from Axl Van Halen! ONE! TWO! NO!
SW: Please be Insano Bobo!
Styles: I think he wanted too much money to show up.
Styles: I think I know who this one is. It's Insano Zeno! He's finally here! And he wants his title back! He's got Polaro!
IZ: ¿Si al principio usted no tenga éxito, no debe que usted intento que lo hace tienen gusto de su esposa le dijo hacerlo?
Styles: Eternalo Questiono! Damn! And now he's got Van Halen!
IZ: ¡Y obviamente si al principio usted no tenga éxito, entonces no tome el salto del cielo!
Styles: Eternalo Questiono Numero Deux!
SW: I think you just mixed in some French there, Salma Hayek.
Styles: Uno! Dos!
[The lights go out.]
SW: *Snort* You don't know how right you are, Styles.
*CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK*
[There is silence for several seconds before "Not All Who Wander Are Lost" by DevilDriver begins playing and green lights begin flashing in a strobe-like effect to the fast music. Slowly, three figures emerge from the back, all dressed in long black capes with an attached hood. The three of them are all wearing silver masks to hide their identity.]
SW: Remember, remember, the 22nd of September.
Styles: What is this? B for BOB?
SW: There's no "I" in BOB, Styles.
Styles: What are you talking about? Look at this! They've all got canes with little skulls on them. What does this all mean?
SW: It means, everybody out here is fucked! HAHAHAHAHA! Where are those dead cheerleaders now? I need a three letter chant...
[The three men charge into the ring. Two of them grab Sir Zeno and hold him. Zeno struggles and kicks at the men, trying to get free, but he can't. The third man looks at him for several seconds. Then he shatters his skull cane over Zeno's skull, knocking him silly. The other two men drop him and then proceed to whack the shit out of Zeno with the canes. The crowd is PISSED!]
Styles: What is going on here?
[The two men with the unbroken canes then start attacking everyone at ringside, while the third man stands over Zeno. After several seconds, the masked man pulls up Zeno and throws him over the top rope to the floor. Everybody in Insano Mano costumes have been assaulted and beaten. Except for one man.]
Styles: I wouldn't want to be Axl Van Halen right now!
SW: I wouldn't want to be him EVER, but yeah. You're right. He's about to get even FURTHER destroyed here. He could have jobbed about twenty times tonight so far. What a loser.
Styles: In all fairness, Scotty, none of these Insano impersonators were supposed to be here. I think one on one, Van Halen would have easily won by now.
SW: Ah, but this is BOB. Nothing is ever easy here.
Styles: Wait a second! These guys are HELPING Axl Van Halen up?
SW: No! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Man 2: Get Mano.
[The first man leaves the ring and grabs Insano Mano from the remains of the EZ Break Announce Table and lifts him over his shoulder.]
Styles: These guys are strong, no doubt. And apparently, they're helping Axl! I don't believe it!
SW: Neither do I! And I'm pretty pissed about this development!
[The second and third man pull a wounded and limping Axl Van Halen up to his feet. Garbage and cups begin flying all over the place.]
Styles: Looks like the ghosts are at work again, Scotty.
[Mano is rolled into the ring.]
SW: No, I think it's the fans doing that. They're pissed. Van Halen's gonna keep the title.
[The third man pulls a T-shirt out of his pocket and hands it to Van Halen. Van Halen looks at the T-shirt in disbelief, then at the three men. Axl smiles. The three men then dump their capes and rip open their white shirts to reveal black T-shirts underneath with the letters iAd emblazoned on them.]
[The first man removes his mask.]
Styles: Seth Harker!
[The second man removes his mask.]
Styles: Steve Studnuts!
[The third man removes his mask.]
Styles: Trey Vincent!
Other Half-Crowd: Sucks!
Other Half-Crowd: Sucks!
Other Half-Crowd: Sucks!
Other Half-Crowd: Sucks!
Styles: The group known as the incurable Apathy disorder is back!
[The lights finally return to normal and the music is cut off. Harker, Studnuts and Vincent soak of the reaction. Axl puts on the shirt!]
SW: NOOOOOOOOOO! WHY, GOD, WHY!
[Vincent grabs Generic Ref and tells him to count.]
Styles: Damnit! Axl's got the cover on the REAL Insano Mano! One. Two.
TV: Just kiddin'.
[Huge pop. The trash stops being thrown, probably because everyone's out of stuff to throw.]
Styles: OH my GOD! Harker just broke his skull cane over Axl's SKULL! Studnuts pulls him off Mano. They toss Mano to the floor. Axl is unconscious. Is Vincent going to start his second reign as BOB ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS?
SW: Oh, I hope so!
Styles: Or Steve Studnuts?
SW: That'd be sweet, too!
Styles: Or maybe Seth Harker?
SW: C'mon, Styles, he's a cruiserweight, get real.
TV: And now...hailing from the great state of North Dakota...give it up for....Insano....Machino!
[Finally, the crate explodes outward, and an Insano Mano with blue hair emerges with a pry bar.]
Styles: Ohhhhh NOOO!
Styles: Insano...Machino? Don't you DARE Trey!
SW: Meh, it's still better than Axl. At least XXXtreme Machine can cut a funny promo. That fingerbanging his girlfriend rant was CLASSIC.
[The iAd holds open the ropes for XXXtreme Machine, er, Insano Machino.]
Styles: This is like a nightmare. A very surreal nightmare. Axl Van Halen, our ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, is now unconscious. And the only man still standing in an Insano Mano costume is HIM? Please, NO!
SW: Pry bar to the crotch! HAHA! Yes! Man, you know you've fucked up when XXXtreme Machine is the man who gets the pin on you!
Styles: Scotty, this is the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! You can't treat the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS like a prop!
SW: Why not? Axl did.
SW: Let's go XXXtreme Machine. itz tym 2 wen teh big 1 u fukin jober!
Styles: Insano Machino with the cover. One.........
SW: Man, Generic Ref doesn't even want to count this one.
Styles: TWO.........THREE! He got him?
[Stunned silence from the crowd.]
NH: Here is your winner....and NEW, ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS....XXXtreme Machine!
Styles: This SUCKS, Scotty! It sucks! This is more sports entertainment CRAP that I thought we FINALLY had gotten rid of with these three pieces of crap! Now they're just treating the title like a turd!
[Insano Machino rips off his mask to reveal...shock of shocks...that it's really XXXtreme Machine. XXXtreme gets a high five from Vincent, Harker and Studnuts as they leave the ring to boos.]
Styles: These guys don't give a crap about our company, or our fans, or any of us. I wish these egotistical sons of bitches had stayed wherever the hell they were and left BOB alone.
SW: But, on the plus side...Axl jobbed! He's not our champion anymore! Woohoo?
Styles: Sorry, Scotty...I love BOB...but...I can't stomach this...this...ARGH!
Death: (Voice) You think you know me.
["Voodoo Child" by Jimi Hendrix starts playing.]
SW: The fuck?
Styles: Just when I thought it couldn't get worse! Don't tell me Hulk Hogan is here!
SW: No, it's not Hogan, but he's ALMOST as old as Hogan. And I hear Death's kids are much better drivers.
Styles: *Snort* *Ahem* Death! It's Death! Wait, why is Death here?
SW: I think I know...
Death: You know....Mr. Beer In The Belly is in...the...hoouuuuuuusssseeeeee!
[The biggest cheer EVER for Death is heard.]
Death: Michelle's drunk...I'm cashing in my title shot. RIGHT NOW!
SW: That's why Michelle was drunk earlier?
Styles: Pigeon's going to owe a lot of thanks to Death tomorrow morning! But fans, we're not done yet!
NH: The following contest is for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! Introducing first, already in the ring...the reigning ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS...XXXTREME MACHINE.
SW: Jobber intro high-five!
Styles: Okay, The Todd.
NH: And his opponent...from the Netherworld...this...is...DEATH!
Styles: I'm suddenly feeling a little better about the title situation here in BOB. TOUCH OF DEATH! COVER!
SW: What? No knee lifts?
Crowd: ONE! TWO! THREE!
SW: Well, now we know why Death came out to "Voodoo Child."
Styles: Death wins the ONLY WORLD TITLE from XXXtreme Machine! What a night! Fans, we're out of time! Death is our new ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS! Good night everybody!
Supernatural Visitant: time to go possess axl's asshole.
©2007 BOB Wrestling! Better Than A Taser To The Chest!