We open to a sunny, Caribbean beach. The sky is a hazy wash of deep blue that hangs above the sparkling sea. Palm trees gently rustle in the delicate breeze.

A spot appears, far out in the water. It begins to grow, getting bigger and bigger as it moves closer towards the camera. After a while we can see that it is in fact a woman, with flowing blonde hair and a bright pink bikini.

She is *ahem* a well-endowed woma… ahhh the hell with it! She has massive bazungas! Jugs! Melons! Bazookas! Coconuts! Boulders! Ski slopes! Headlights! Hooters!

Ummm… anyway. She continues to run towards the camera, bouncing up and down in a jiggly motion. As she finally arrives at the beach she hops right up to the camera and whips off her bikini top.

Blonde: It’s…

Rated R: For Retarded!

[The camera pans Wayne’s Garage in Climax, Colorado. There are 7 fans in attendance holding up such signs as ‘Unit 5 is The Only Washing Machine That Matters’ and ‘Marry me Meat Puppet.’ We cut to ringside where The Commentator, a returning GBH and announce team newcomer Veronica Valley are sat at a folding table with their scripts open at page one.]

TC: Hello everyone, this is Brawlers on a Budget! And tonight we make history with the debut of the brand new B-show BOB is Boobs! We are LIVE here in Climax, Colorado and the fans are blowing the roof off of this garage!

VV (waving to the camera): Heeyyyy, I’m new.

[Veronica flicks her blonde hair back and pushes her chest out, it’s pretty obvious why she was hired.]

TC: Yes BOB fans, Veronica Valley is making her commentary debut here this afternoon. I am looking forward to working with you, trading knowledge on the history of professional wrestling, the holds, the throws, championship reigns and psychology of this great sport.

VV: Ummm… I think I just swallowed my gum.

TC: What?

VV: I just swallowed.

TC: Nobody wants to hear about you swallowing! Let’s just get on with the show.

GBH: Hee hee hee, hey… uhhhh.

TC: Oh yes, GBH is here… providing his ever-ingenious insight.

GBH: Talky man has funny shirt.

TC: Are you talking about my shirt? My Hawaiian shirt?

GBH: Yur.

TC: Well, I can’t say much for your food-stained Super Mollusc and Bivalve t-shirt from 1999 that doesn’t really fit you and leaves too little for the imagination.

VV: Do you like what I’m wearing Commentator?

TC: Well, your outfit also leaves very little to the imagination… so God yes.

[Suddenly ‘XXXtreme’ plays to the groans of all fans. As they begin to throw cans of beer that have been filled with urine XXXtreme Machine walks slowly down to the ring, with a microphone in hand… unfortunately.]

TC: What a way to start off BOB is Boobs! Through hellfire and keystone, it’s XXXtreme Machine! The most hated jobber in BOB history.

XTM: fukC u i aynt no jobba!!

TC: Suuuure you aynt.

[XXXtreme slides into the ring with a steel chair.]

XTM: helo climackz colorodo! itz i xxxtreme masheen!1 wen i waz ask[d 2 b on bob iz buubz` i fort daT dey wer givun me/ teh puzh dey alwaz proimesd me but den i fownd owt htat itt wuz a bsho!!21 w3ll dat a!nt wat big sexxxy xxxtreeam masheine is al abot i em xTream damet adn i sya dat eye wan a shott at teh yuu gota b kedden i ant duuin htat r u owt 0f yu freckun meyend harrdkorrr titel champunshup bult1!

TC: By gawd what a statement!

[Machine walks to each side of the ring, sticking his middle fingers and rambling incoherently as fans inform him on his suckiness.]

XTM: u shud b cherrin mi damatr!1` evri1 strat chanten ma nayme or i guin 2 tayk thsi maykrafon trun it siidwaiz n shuv it| shtrait up yuu kaaaaa4ndee azzes!

[He then flexes his muscles and raises his hand to his ear, walking to each rope as silence fills the arena.]

XTM: ifv u htinck htaet xXXtruim machuuniere ia gennu b teh beggissds soopustra hrer n BUB id bubez giv mi a hel| yea!

[Silence, Machine pretends he got a big pop and nods with a smile. He lifts the steel chair he brought with him and proceeds to play it like a guitar.]

XTM: if yu smulolololololololololololololololololol0lolol wta teh xxxtreaem machean i5 cuken>!1

TC: What have we seen here?! XXXtreme Machine has issued a challenge, I think, in a bid for the YGBKIADTAYOOYFM Hardcore Title! And now we have a word from one of our sponsors… which will probably get better ratings than that promo.

[We see an overweight woman slowly waddle into a kitchen. She picks up a handful of candy bars and goes to stuff them into her mouth with the wrappers still on.]

Voice-Over: Are you sick of being fat? Had enough of fad diets and supposed miracle weight loss programs? Think you should just eat right and exercise regularly?

[The woman nods and slams the candy bars back down.]

VO: You’re wrong! Why try to lose weight when you know you never will? Go off the deep end with brand new Deep Fried Sugar Coated Chocolate Chicken!

[The woman looks up in bewilderment.]

VO: That’s right! Deep Fried Sugar Coated Chocolate Chicken! It may be banned in 49 states, but all you BOB fans in Wisconsin can enjoy delicious cocoa poultry today!

[We cut to an even more morbidly obese woman, with chocolate all over her face. She smiles feebly, her facial muscles too fatigued from over-eating.]

VO: Deep Fried Sugar Coated Chocolate Chicken! Now with added marshmallows! Proud sponsors of Brawlers on a Budget: BOB is Boobs.

TC: Ok BOB fans, we are ready here as the Masked Announcer waits in the ring, ready for our first match this afternoon.

[‘Teeth Grinding’ by Gorgoroth (do you have any idea how hard it is to find a tooth related song these days?!) plays over the single speaker. The wooden door at the side of the garage opens up and out walks the first competitor.]

MA: The following match is for one fall and has a 9 minute and 35 seconds time limit. Introducing first… DEE EMM DEE!

TC: The cruellest dentist in wrestling since Isaac Yankem… it’s DMD!

[‘Anarchy in the UK’ by The Sex Pistols is the next song to play and a guy in an England soccer t-shirt, with a can of room temperature beer in one hand, a soccer ball in the other and incredibly bad teeth waddles out drunkenly.]

MA: And his opponent, from London, England. Weighing in at 15 stone 6 lbs… Nigel Wainsbottom!

GBH: Where’s Uk?

TC: It’s not pronounced Uk, GBH, you say it as two letters. U and then K. And to answer your question, it is a little, rainy island somewhere to the east of here.

*Bell rings*

TC: And this match is underway with a clubbing forearm from DMD, knocking Mr. Wainsbottom down on his ass… or arse, as he would say.

VV: God, I can smell that limey’s breath from here.

TC: Ahhh, the sweet smell of fish, chips and kebab meat. DMD drops a driving double axe handle and makes the cover. One, shoulder up. DMD lifts Nigel up to his feet and tucks him under his armpit, going for a DDT! No! Nigel pushes his shoulder forward and tackles DMD down.

NW: You fink ya so ard, eh? I’m Nigel Wainsbottom, ya wanker! Ya ain got the bollocks to beat me!

TC: And DMD is holding his nose, Nigels’ breath is proving too much for him. He uses all his strength and rolls to the side, now on top of Nigel and ready to lay in some punches.

[As Nigel protects his face DMD notices his crooked, yellow and furry teeth.]

DMD: Good God! You need some serious work on those babies.

TC: DMD has a drill, and he’s going for Nigel’s teeth! Nigel rolls away in fear and slides out of the ring. DMD’s chasing him!

DMD: Come back, it won’t hurt… much.

TC: Nigel just stopped, he turns around, and clotheslines DMD down! He throws him back under the bottom rope and follows for a cover. One, two, kickout.

VV: I just do not understand any of what’s going on.

TC: What’s hard to follow? It’s a wrestling match for Pete’s sake, it doesn’t get much simpler. Even GBH understands it and he can barely count to 10 without getting confused and distracted.

GBH: Duh.

VV: It just looks like two guys rolling around on each, it’s kinda like gay porn.

TC: What!? How can you say that? This is wrestling, the manliest, non-homo sport in the country! You must stop this at once!

VV: Ok, I’m sorry.

TC: Good. Nigel lifts up DMD’s legs and pushes forward into a prawn hold.

VV: Ok, that’s just the missionary position.

TC: What did I just say? That is a prawn hold, darn it! And it is a respectable pinning position. One, two, DMD gets the shoulder up. Stop these homoerotic undertones!

VV: Ok, gosh, stop with the trauma.

TC: Why you little, I’ll give you trauma all righ… DMD has Nigel in a front headscissors lock, will he tap?

VV: … I’ll just keep my mouth shut for that move.

TC: Nigel rises up to his feet, he lifts up DMD with him and slams him down with a vicious powerbomb! Boomshakalaka! One, two, kickout! And the fans are going absolutely ape poopie!

GBH: That guy falls down on that guy… he’s doing a punchy thing. He back up, twisty thing with leg.

TC: Ok, that’s enough GBH. Here, why don’t you look at this shiny piece of cardboard for a while.

GBH: Hee hee hee, lamamanated!

TC: DMD has Nigel in a figure four leg lock now, and the British representative is reaching out for the ropes. Will he get to them? Yes. Generic Ref breaks up the hold, showing that he can enforce the rules when he remembers to. DMD is laying in the stomps on Nigel’s legs, pulls him away from the ropes, and goes for the scorpion deathlock! But no, Nigel reaches up and pulls him down, rolling him up in something that tries to be a small package. One, two, kickout.

GBH: Shiny.

TC: And DMD looks furious, he’s up before Nigel and drives him into the mat with one hellacious DDT.

VV: DDT. Is that, like, that poison they used back in the 60s to kill hippies?

TC: No! A DDT is a wrestling manoeuvre, dammit!

VV: What does it stand for?

TC: I… uhhh… well….it…. ummm… GOOD GOD what a hellacious drop toe hold!

VV: You didn’t answer my question.

TC: We haven’t got time for that now Vivian, we’ve got wrestling going on!

VV: Veronica.

TC: Huh?

VV: My name is Veronica, you called me Vivian.

TC: BODY SLAM! One, two, kickout! DMD is as vicious as a rabid rattlesnake with a machine gun here this afternoon. As Nigel gets back up he whips him into the corner. He’s lifting him up onto the top turnbuckle and following after. SUPER JAWBREAKER from the top rope! And his jaw will be in pieces after that move.

DMD: Now you cannot deny that you need some dental work.

TC: DMD has that blood stained drill! He’s driving it deep down Nigel’s throat.

VV: Driving what down Nigel’s throat?!

TC: The drill!!! With absolutely no form of anaesthetic Nigel has pretty much no choice but to tap out. And he does.

MA: The winner of this match, DMD!

TC: But he’s not finished with that limey and is going to town on his teeth. He straps some iron braces on him and sticks some unnecessary false teeth in there. All hell has broken loose!

[We cut backstage, which is just Wayne’s kitchen, where Igpay Atinolay Eathay is wrapping his wrists in tape. A dark skinned man with long, dreadlock type hair walks in.]

Hooker T: Hey man.

IAE: Eyhay omeshay!

HT: Huh?

IAE: Areway ouyay isrespectingday emay, anmay?

HT: Umm, ohhhk. Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you about being here on BOB is Boobs.

IAE: Ohway eahyay?

HT: God is that ever annoying. Anyway, I know that you are the top playa here. All the BOB is Boobs fan cheer you on, wear your confusing ass t-shirts and chant your name.

IAE: Andway on'tday orgetfay atthay allway ethay exysay amacitasmay owthray eirthay antiespay atway emay.

HT: Ok. Anyway, I wanted to say that no matter how good you are, I ain’t happy about being here. I am Hooker T, dammit! I’ve done it all, I am a superstar! Sure, the G.I. Fro gimmick was a bust, but I am the Hook Man! I am the one time, one time, one time, one time, one time, one time, one time Pin Pull Champion. And now I’m down here. BOB is Boobs are the MINOR LEAGUES. Now can you shovel THAT blowa?

IAE: Owhay areday ouyay isrespectday OBBAY isway Oobsbay?! Eatway isthay otherfuckermay!

[Igpay sends a right hand straight to the side of Hook’s face before hitting him over the head with a nearby frying pan. Hooker takes a few moments to no-sell.]

HT: Tell me you didn’t just do that… TELL ME you did NOT just hit me with a frying pan.

IAE: Ucksay ymay igbay atinlay uevoshay ouyay astardbay!

HT: I am gonna kick yo ass, blowa. Later this afternoon, you and me in a one on one match. I was a superstar… but on BOB is Boobs, I am a MEGASTAR! Now CAN YOU shovel THAT BLOWAAAA?!?!

[Hooker T pushes Igpay Atinolay Eathey against a refrigerator before walking away.]

TC: What have we just seen? Hooker T, former Pin Pull Champion, former member of the Stoned Hookers and one of the sWo Z-Team has challenged Igpay Atinolay Eathay to a match in the main event. And this match will be LIVE only on BOB is Boobs! And what a hellacious, barn burnin’ match-up that will be.

GBH: Hee hee, man talk funny.

[We cut backstage again, this time in Wayne’s bathroom. Standing in the middle of the room are Dennis and The Flunky (they’re the closest thing to staff members who’d agree to work on BOB is Boobs) holding their scripts up into plain view. They begin to read, both of their acting is very, very wooden.]

TF: Well, hello there Dennis, funny seeing you here.

D: Yes, it is isn’t it? Say, Flunky, what do you suppose we’re going to do about this XXXtreme fellow? He has already made himself the top nuisance of this show… but he is the biggest jobber to walk the planet.

TF: Surely there is some way for us to put him in his place and kick him off the air. But how could we do that?

[Nothing happens.]

TF: I said… how could we do that?

[A very tall and flabby individual wearing a long, flowing blonde hairpiece walks into the room. He bangs his head on the ceiling, he is that damn tall!]

D: Goodness, who are you stranger?

WS: My name is the Wig Show! I am 9 feet tall, I am 800 lbs! I am a giant among midgets!

TF: Hello there Wig Show. Say, you look like a tough customer.

WS: Yes, I am the biggest parody athlete in the world today.

TF: Dennis, are you thinking what I’m thinking?

D: I think so Flunks, but where would we be able to get a roller-skating chimp in a sombrero at this time of day?

TF: What?! That’s not in the script! Stick to your lines Dennis.

D: Sorry. *Ahem*. I think so Flunky, Wig Show, do you think you could sort out a problem for us?

WS: What kind of problem?

TF: Well, there’s this annoying jobber named XXXtreme Machine. He is mentally retarded enough to think he can ruin our fine show by jobbing it up and we want him exterminated.

WS: So that’s it is it? All you care about is me beating up some punk. I have feelings ya know! I am a human being.

D: Errrm… ummmm… hey, Wig Show, I… uhhh… I like your wig.

WS: Why thank you Dennis! Nobody has ever paid so much attention to me. I’ll tell you what, I will destroy this jobber for you. And, just to prove how massively enormous and powerful I am… if I lose this afternoon, I will QUIT Brawlers on a Budget!

[Wig Show leaves the bathroom clumsily and the two ‘staff’ members give each other a high five.]

TF: We did it, we finished a promo!

D: Yes old bean, we did. That Wig Show saying he would quit if he lost… is he even signed to BOB?

TF: Who cares?


TC: The Masked Announcer has his cards ready!

MA: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, already in the ring. From Climax, Colorado… Lance Lancelot!

TC: Lance Lancelot is a local jobber, he holds the Climax record for most losses in a row, with 156 losses and 0 wins.

[‘Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck (Snappin’ USA Beach Boys ain’t got shit on Eddie B. Remix)’ by Prong plays over the single speaker and someone walks out of the side door.]

MA: And his opponent… the SNAPMAAAARE KIIID!

[Snapmare Kid walks to the ring, making the ‘snapmare’ motion as a taunt, to the delight of the few fans. One female fan even reaches out and hugs him after screaming ‘I love you Snappy!’]

VV: That Snapmare Kid guy is kinda cute.

TC: He is?!

VV: Yeah, I will definitely support him during this match.

TC: What?! You can’t decide who you’re going to support on the grounds of who’s cute and who’s not!

VV: Why not? You base all your support on who’s face or heel.

TC: Where did you learn those words? Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a heel like me having biased support, it’s part of the deal baby.

VV: Whatever, just do your commentating thing.

TC: You are one spoiled little snot nos… body slam from Lancelot! The Kid no-sells, another body slam! More no-selling, but Lance goes for a suplex, will he hit it? No, Snapmare drops out of it. The enhancement talent for this match-up is having some difficulty early on.

VV: He sucks that’s why, go Snappy!

GBH: Snappy! Snappy! Snappy!

TC: Oh can it GBH. You too princess, just leave me to work my magic in peace. Lance Lancelot hits a BIIIG forearm, and again the Kid no-sells. Lance then cowers in fear and quickly slides out of the ring like a scalded dog.

[Snapmare Kid laughs heartily, to the applause of the handful of fans, before chasing after his opponent.]

VV: Oh my gosh, he just SO hit him with that thing.

TC: That’s a steel chair Veronica and Snapmare Kid doesn’t dare ruin his gimmick by no-selling that and falls to the floor in a heap. Lancelot is going to town with that steel chair as the Kid writhes in pain.

VV: Booo! That’s got to be against the rules.

TC: I don’t think the Generic Ref feels like handing out DQs today, we have already seen gratuitous weapon usage here this afternoon. Lancelot tosses the chair away as it becomes warped out of shape before looking under the ring for some weapons. There’s nothing there though, somebody forgot to stock up. He goes for the natural approach and uses those educated feet to stomp away at the Kid.

Crowd: Snappy! Snappy! Snappy!

GBH: Snappy! Uhhh… Snappy! Yur.

VV: Give me an S, give me an N, give me an A, give me a…

TC: Stop it! All of you! Lancelot rolls Snapmare back in and sanity resumes. He follows after, drops an elbow and makes the cover. Kickout, straight away. He lifts up Snapmare, into the body slam position and holds him up there.


TC: Here it comes, the sickest finisher in history, the Lancelot Driver! He driv… oh, Kid climbs out and hits a Snapmare. One, two, three.

VV: Yay! Go Snappy! Go Snappy!

TC: Well, I suppose Lance did his job. And the EMTs are out here, putting a neckbrace around his neck, which is probably broken.

[The EMTs are in fact just some pimply teens in pale green t-shirts, and the neck brace is more like cotton wool and a bit of duct tape.]

[We open to a sleazy bar. There is a generic barman cleaning glasses with a dirty rag spitting on the floor. There are two bikers watching a football game on the tiny television set while a cardboard cut-out of Trey Vincent, holding up a rag and a bottle, is wheeled in. An extremely nervous man stands behind the cut-out, sweat pouring onto his script.]

Voice Which is Obviously Not Trey’s: Hey, you punks! Yeah, I’m talking to you pansies!

[The two bikers frown, crossing their arms over their chests.]

VWiONT: You guys are so gay you might as well dye those leather, skull design jackets pink and braid each other’s hair. But I can help.

[The guy shakily pushes the cut-out forward towards the television and reaches out with a rag soaked in clear liquid.]

VWiONT: It takes one simple step, chloroform your TV.

[He wipes the rag across the screen as his hands shakes faster than a humming bird, blurring the game they were watching completely as the bikers merely grunt and growl.]

VWiONT: Every Sunday morning, tune into Comedy Central and you might just see Brawlers on a Budget: Sunday Morning Chloroform! With The Violent Pacifist, Massive Man Rendition first, Unit 5, BILL, the iAd and me, Trey Vincent, is there any reason for you not to Chloroform Your TV?

[The bikers suddenly rip the cut-out into shreds and begin to beat the guy behind it to his grave.]

TC: And we are back fans and next up we have what promises to be a hellacious rollercoaster ride of a match as the Wig Show’s career is on the line against XXXtreme Machine.

MA: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, already in the ring, from Toupee, Florida. Weighing in at 800 lbs… the WIG SHOW!

GBH: Weeeell… it’s… uhhh… duh… the wiggy show.

[‘XXXtreme’ plays to the collective groans of everyone. The wifebeater, the blue hair, the terrible speaking impediment. It couldn’t be anyone else.]

MA: And his opponent, from North Dakota… XXXTREME MACHINE!

[Machine makes various taunts with his hands as he jogs down to the ring, none of them are recognizable.]

TC: And Machine is down right off the bat with a big boot right to the mush. One, two, kickout. XXXtreme Machine may be tougher than a $3 steak but I doubt he can compete with the Wig Show’s spirit. I just know Show is going to be putting up the fight of his life, he does not want to lose that BOB contract.

VV: But didn’t he debut just earlier on this same show?

TC: A BOB contract is a highly sought after and almost sacred thing, all owners of such an honor hold it tightly with pride and would sooner die than give it up.

VV: Really?

TC: Except maybe all those guys who were already dead before they got here, but even they held that contract close to their unbeating hearts. Speaking of hearts, Wig Show sends a punch to Machine’s. Or at least to his chest, as his heart is internal and you’d have to cut him open to punch it. And he hits a headbutt, XXXtreme Machine tries to no-sell it but Wig Show won’t let him and knocks him down with a weak looking punch.

WS: You can’t beat me, I am 9 feet tall and I am 800 lbs dammit!

[Machine is quickly to his feet and rakes Show’s eyes, sending him down to the mat hard.]

TC: Wow, Show actually took a bump! And Machine is up top, diving headbutt! One, two, kickout. XXXtreme slowly lifts him back up, with great difficulty, and he tucks that sweaty, hulking monster down between his quivering legs.

VV: I’m not saying a word.

TC: He’s going for a powerbomb and… he can’t lift him. XXXtreme Machine’s lack of training is paying off here as he collapses in back pain. Wig Show capitalizes and drops one heck of a big time super jumping leg drop. But Machine rolls out of the way in time! And now he’s out of the ring, he has a table! Goodness gracious me, somebody regain some sanity in there, all hell is breaking loose!

[Generic Ref shrugs before eating another handful of popcorn.]

TC: XXXtreme pulls Wig Show out of the ropes and onto the apron, oh goodness they’re right above that table. He tucks him under his armpit.

XTM: hAdrkorr spyek!1

TC: DDT through that damned table! Wig Show is unconscious on the floor surrounded by balsa splinters. He’s got a razor blade, JUICE! He’s juicing!

GBH: Duhh… I have juice.

[GBH holds up a carton of orange juice.]

TC: Not that kind of juice!

[GBH simply grins as he stares at the shiny surface of the juice carton.]

VV: He has a golf club!

TC: An open face club, the sand wedge, if I can recall my days as a caddy correctly.

GBH: Mmmm… open face club sandwich.

TC: Stolen jokes are ok with me, but that was just way too obvious. Action! Wig Show is getting the beating of his life from XXXtreme Machine! Golf Club shot! And another, and another! Another and… another! Wig Show is rolled back under the ropes and Machine goes for a cover. One, two, kickout! He is pulling out all the stops here this afternoon.

VV: His wig fell off as he was being rolled into the ring, he’s bald underneath!

TC: And he is showing his fury with a bunch of clubbing forearms, sending Machine into the corner.

XTM: gtE ovf mie yu faTt peese ov carp!

TC: The ultimate insult! XXXtreme Machine just called The Wig Show a piece of carp!

XTM: kno i dudnt i cawld hum a peas 0v crsp

TC: GBH, are you following this because I’ll tell ya, I am bamboozled.

XTM: u zuKc teh cemenNentutar~!

GBH: Yur.

TC: I have no idea what that man is saying, maybe I should purchase one of those ‘xxxtraem mashiinu dikshunerys’ from the Brawlers on a Budget Crap Zone… visit www.bobwrestling.com/crap.html for all your BOB merchandise needs.

VV: Stop shilling!

TC: You’re new, so I’ll excuse your ignorance, but if I didn’t shill I wouldn’t be able to put food on the table! Shilling is this industry’s greatest trait and you should learn it well.

VV: Ummm… like, buy some stuff from us.

[She pushes her breasts out and proceeds to suck suggestively on a candy cane. 12 copies of BOB: Passive Aggression are purchased online… double the amount that have been sold so far.]

TC: Oh my what a clothesline from Machine, Wig Show is down and he’s hurt. Elbow drop, one, two, threKICKOUT! Wig Show, using all his energy, kicked out at the very last moment. He does not want to have to quit so is going all out and burning a barn here this afternoon! Wig Show no-sells all punches sent his way and is up on his feet, he clasps his hand around the top of XXXtreme’s skull. This is it, The Showscalpa! He lifts up Machine, but he breaks free and drops him down with one hellacious DDT! One, two, kickout!

GBH: That ring is shaky.

TC: That’s right GBH, there are two big individuals slamming each other about in there. I have to wonder, can the low budget ring hold their weight for much longer?

TC: Good golly, XXXtreme is using all of his limited strength to push Wig Show up onto the top rope, he follows and he’s going for a superplex from the top rope! This is going to destroy the ring surely! I can’t watch, tell me when it’s over.

[Machine has no ability to suplex Wig Show from the top rope, so he turns around and tucks his arm underneath his jaw.]

XTM: xXxtR3am stunNaaar!!1

TC: I have to open my eyes, I can’t stop myself. By gawd, XXXtreme is poised high up in the air. He makes a cut-throat signal with his thumb before diving down towards the unrelenting mat below… XXXtreme Stunner! He hit it! One, two, three!

GBH: Dingy dingy dingy.

MA: The winner of this contest… XXXtreme Machine!

VV: Wig Show lost!

TC: He did indeed, and I think he is just realising what this means. He promised he would quit if he lost! He climbs out and grabs his wig, putting it back on the wrong way round as the crowd begins to chant.

Crowd: Na na naa na, na na naa na, hey heyyy, goodbye.

GBH: Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na… ummmmm…

TC: And the Wig Show looks mortified, tears are rolling down his pudgy face.

WS: Why are you laughing? Why are you laughing?!

So, how about them BOB pornstars divas? You like what you see? Wanna get your hand on some tail like that? Just contact Big Tony and he’ll sort you out with something nice. Brunettes, blondes, redheads, inanimate objects? He’s got ‘em all.

Big Tony, providing ‘the service’ since 1982.

TC: WHAT?! How the hell did a commercial for a pimp get on our airwaves?!

VV: I guess they’re trying to appeal to our key demographic.

TC: I suppose so. Hey, where’d you learn a long word like that? Anyway, we have a match ready to begin now and the Masked Announcer is all set.

[‘Her Strut’ by The Silver Bullet Band begins. They do respect her butt… they love to watch her strut. What do you mean it’s not that kind of butt? Whatever. Anyway, some guy walks out.]

MA: The following thing is scheduled for one fall and doesn’t have a very long time limit. Introducing first, from Hanes, PA. Weighing in at 269 lbs, The Japanese Hacksaw… BROOOCK VENEEERIAL DISEEEASE!!!

TC: And the fans are going absolutely bananas, BVD is the biggest star we’ve had so far today. God, it has been a slow afternoon.

[BVD runs down to the ring with two Japanese flags tied to his elbows. He raises his fingers to the air.]


Crowd: Booo!


Crowd: Boooooo!!


TC: This fans are stupid, BVD is a member of one of the greatest stables in history, The JEWS, and they boo him?

VV: Stop trying to get heel heat.

BVD: J-A-P-A-N! J-A-P-A-N! J-A-P-A-N!

[‘Highway to Hell (Convulsing up a Tornado Eddie B. Rave Mix)’ plays and out walks some skinny guy.]

MA: And his opponent, weighing in at too little to mention. From Da Ghetto, Drudleyville… Small Tyke Drudley!

GBH: Woah, man’s t-shirt trippy.

TC: God, trust GBH to become interested as swirly, colourful patterns become relevant. I personally do not think Tyke Drudley has even a milligram of a chance here against BVD. He’s a dope and while, sure, he has the speed and can crack someone’s neck at will, he is still a weedling and could choke at any moment. Anyone he faces always ends up being the hero… or heroine.

VV: Am I missing something here?

TC: No, I’m just talking. And… by gawd! BVD hits Tyke over the head with a commemorative plate depicting the battle of Gettysburg! And Tyke is running away like a scalded dog. He rolls outside and BVD follows up with a baseball slide dropkick right to the face, and Tyke is sent reeling into the cardboard guardrail.


Crowd: Boooooo!!!

BVD: DOODs, stop that!

GBH: Hee hee hee… hooooooo.

BVD: DOOD you don’t do it like that, you say it like HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

GBH: hoooooo.


GBH: hooooooooooo!

BVD: Better DOOD, better.

TC: And MY what a plancha by BVD, and Small Tyke Drudley is barely even breathing. This is a very satisfying squash.

VV: Come on Tyke!

TC: What? I thought you only supported the cute guys.

VV: I’ve decided to be face.

TC: You can’t just decide to be face, your alignment calls to you. You live it, you love and you feel it. You have to… by GAWD what a Piledriver onto that unprotected safety mat! Tyke is getting the beating of his life.

GBH: dood.

TC: BVD has a barbedwire encased pogo stick and Tyke is hit in the head with it. He juices heavily as Brock rolls him back into the ring.

Crowd: STD! STD! STD!

BVD: DOODs, STDs ain’t cool.

STD: They’re my initials you moron.

BVD: They are?!

STD: Yes!

BVD: DOOD sucks to be you.

STD: Tell me about it, it was all Bertner’s idea. He has a stupid sense of humor and just stuck me with this goddamned name. I mean, if I could just be allowed to have a little self respect I could prove myself as the original giant killer and maybe even win a match someda…

TC: Brock lays in the Seven Day Itch! Tyke taps! Tyke taps!

MA: Here is your winner BROCK VENERIAL DISEASE!

VV: Well that was anticlimactic.

TC: What are you talking about? BVD won. That’s one more for the bad guys.

[We cut backstage, which this time happens to be the sidewalk. We see Candy Cantaloupes laughing with some random girl as The Wig Show, who was laughed out of the garage earlier after losing to XXXtreme Machine and qutting, walks by. He hears them laughing and becomes furious.]

WS: Hey, you!

CC: What the hell do you want, tubby?

WS: Were you just laughing at me?

CC: Yes.

WS: Don’t lie to me, you were laughing at ME weren’t you?!

CC: Yes! I was.

WS: Leave your excuses honey and give me a straight answer, were you or were you not laughing at me? I just lost my job and you were laughing at me while I’m down on my luck and unemployed weren’t you?!

CC: Pretty much. You’re a big, fat, stupid moron who lost his job in his first match, what’s not to laugh at it?

WS: I don’t believe a word you say, I know you were laughing at me!

[Wig Show turns to a nearby car and puts his foot through the window.]

WS: And that’s what your car gets!

CC: Hey dumbass, that’s not my car. Mine’s that one behind it.

WS: Oh, who’s is this one?

CC: That’s Snapmare Kid’s car, he is going to kick your ass when he finds out you kicked the wrong fucking car.

[Wig Show walks to the car behind, which belongs to Candy, and kicks the window in, his leg covered in cuts as the broken glass shatters everywhere. He grips beneath the vehicle and attempts to lift and turn it over. He can’t, and resorts to slamming one of the doors really hard.]

CC: Well done, you score a C for cockhead.

[Wig Show stomps over and grabs Candy Cantaloupes by the hair and begins to drag her away.]

Voice-Over: Can you shovel it… BLOWAAA?!?!

MA: The following contest is our main event for this afternoon and is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from WCW Special Forces… HOOKEEEER TEEE!!!

HT: Hey blowa.

Generic Ref: Hi.

HT: Yo, rule in my favor blowa.

GR: I can’t do that!

HT: You suck! Now can you shovel THAT, blowa?

GR: I can’t.

HT: Tell me you didn’t just say that!

Voice-Over: Ivavay Alay Azaray!

[‘Low Rider’ by Korn plays and the man attached to the mullet walks out.]

MA: And his opponent, from… God, I can’t pronounce that. From Parts Unknown! Igpay Atinolay Eathay!

TC: Did you hear about Igpay’s ex-girlfriend KorYa getting stalked by X-Puke? Apparently he couldn’t accept the fact that such a beast of a ‘woman’ had slipped out of his fingers and kept giving her chairshots whilst she was out shopping with her friends.

VV: Really?

TC: Yeah, he was always more stoned than a heretic in biblical times but the police didn’t think this was a valid excuse.

GBH: Duh.

TC: Collar and elbow tie up! Hooker turns it round into a hammerlock, Igpay turns and forces T into a top wristlock. T pushes Eathay’s arms down and lifts him up and over with a northern lights suplex hold variation. One, two, kickout.

GBH: Eehay eehay eehay. Uhhhhday. Uryay.

TC: Igpay is back up and body slams Hooker T straight to HECK! T no-sells, gets back up and body slams Igpay!

[They continue exchanging body slams for a while. It gets a little repetitive up until Hooker T changes his mind and kicks Igpay in the nose.]

VV: This is such a snoozefest.

TC: Silence! Hooker pulls Igpay up by his hair, wrenches back to put extra barbecue sauce on that educated fist and smacks him with a pimp slap. One, two, kickout. And what a barn burner of an extravaganza main event-a-palooza! The Hook Man goes for powerbomb but Igpay counters with a hurracanrana. One, two, kickout.

VV: This is the last match, right?

TC: Well, yes, it is, but you should be wanting MORE!

VV: Well, I don’t want more… I want to get home, have a nice bath, read a magazine and forget about this whole afternoon.

TC: I am shocked at your impertinence. And, oh, action. Igpay suplexes the Hooker Man, and again and again. He locks in a resthold.

GBH: Darker man stand up, lighter man get punchys. Punchy punchy punchy. He falls over and he drops on him with arm. One… uhhhh… uhhhh….

TC: TWO, kickout. Hooker T goes up top, stalking his prey… Flying Dropkick from the top rope!

[‘XXXtreme’ plays. No F’n pop.]

TC: XXXtreme Machine, the man who ended The Wig Show’s career before it had a chance to begin, is out here. He’s got a steel chair wrapped in barbedwire!

VV: Oh God no.

TC: Chairshot to Hooker T! Chairshot to Igpay! And the Generic Ref is calling for the bell, he has decided that this is worth a DQ even if he didn’t think all the weapon usage and cheating in every other match was… talk about being inconsistent. Machine has a microphone!

XTM: yea it si i XxX+rEamei masHe3n owt here gvin chraishutts 2 htees jooba5……… btu y xxxtreeeem?!!1``11 y wdu u du htis? ill teel yuu y itt cuz i m teh bigesstt soopastrar om B0B iz bOobz damnut

GBH: …

TC: …

VV: …

Crowd: …

XTM: yae adts rtie yu shud shtu yuuo kaaandie azzez fo teh mots elktrufryin sprots enturtAinear ni dis bisnuz tday! i ptu teh wgi sho owt ov a joB 2day cuz i em xxxtreeemi damnot n i ma htad dam gud/

[Hooker T sneaks from behind, turns him round, and gives him a rock bottom rip off.]

TC: Hook End! Hook End! Hook End to XXXtreme Machine! And what does this mean? What have we seen here this afternoon?

[Igpay Atinolay Eathay flies through the air and gives Machine a Ogfray Ashplay out of nowhere.]

TC: XXXtreme is getting payback for his actions! Well, that’s all we have time for this afternoo… what? What do you mean? Well, folks I’m getting a message through my headset that we have something to show you backstage, although it is not on my format.

VV: Errm, Commentator, you don’t have a headset.

TC: Shhhh, you’re ruining the illusion!

[We cut backstage, which is outside again. On the roof of the house is newly fired Wig Show holding Candy Cantaloupes by the hair. He looks set to do his finisher, the Showscalper, from the top of the roof. Suddenly, Dennis goes running up a ladder after him.]

D: Wig Show, old chum, what do you think you’re doing?

WS: This job means everything to me, I can’t give it up.

D: Showscalping Candy off this roof isn’t going to solve anything, now let go of her and climb down from here with me nice and slowly.

[Wig Show grunts and thrusts Candy to one side… but in a swerve he grabs a hold of Dennis by the hair instead.]

D: Don’t do it Show, put me down you big tub of flab!

[Wig Show lifts Dennis up by the hair before chucking him off the roof to the floor below. We see him land on a big pile of mattresses for a split second before it cuts to him laying on the concrete with his leg positioned to look like it’s broken. Poor editing, but you get the feel for what’s going on.]

TC: BY GAWD! What a hellacious Showscalper sending Dennis from the top of that roof to the unforgiving concrete below. His leg is broken, he’s juicing and looks in a general bad way. And that’s all the time we have left! For me, GBH and Veronica Valley I wish you… Good afternoon.

[We close with a shot of Dennis pretending to be unconscious, although his constant checking to see if we’ve gone off the air yet takes away from the effect. Wig Show stands on the roof laughing wickedly. Then he realizes he doesn’t have a job and starts to cry.]

© 2004 BOB Wrestling. Buy a copy of the xxxtream masheen dikshunery!

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