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THE BEST OF BOBO Q. FIENDISH!

Part 2! Yes, Part 2!

Caption: This is a compilation of some of Bobo's best, well, his rants and matches from BOB. Enjoy or not. It's a filler show.

Halftime

[Bobo is pacing the hallway outside of the locker room during Full Court Press... He looks agitated, considering his team is down by three at the half. We all know what a problem having a Happy Bobo is, and that having a NOT-so-Happy Bobo is significantly LESS desirable...]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Well, I see that carrying this conglomeration of pitiful, knuckle-dragging nimrods is a little harder than I thought. Fine. I guess I'll just have to give 'em the Gipper speech...

[Bobo storms to the door and opens it, the chatter of his team-mates comes to a halt faster than Niege Thirteen's career, and when it's completely silent, Bobo speaks.]

BQF: The Gipper is DEAD. If you wanna JOIN him, then just keep stumbling around like you did the FIRST HALF!

The OTHER Teamsters: EEEP!

BQF: This pleases me. I want you bunch of marks to give me one-hundred percent! I want to see TEARS...

[Barbie starts crying.]

BQF: I want to see SWEAT!

[Everyone sweats nervously.]

BQF: I want to see BLOOD!

[Blackjack smashes XXXTreme with a beer bottle.]

BQF: ........That's just sad.

BQF: So remember... When you get back onto that hardwood, remember the plan. To wit, WIN OR DIE!

[Everyone shudders fretfully.]

BQF: Glad to see you've come around to MY way of thinking... So, what are we gonna DO?

The OTHER Teamsters: WIN!!!!

BQF: And what if we DON'T?

The OTHER Teamsters: DEATH!!!

BQF: This pleases me... Get yourselves together, and you won't have to worry about being stuffed into a Pringles can for your FUNERAL. Oh, and Pizza if we win!

The OTHER Teamsters: WHEN we win. You can't trick us into committing suicide!

BQF: Heh. Can't fault me for trying...

BQF: You're Welcome... See you SOON!


Full Court Press
Bobo wins the Hardcore Title

MM: Amazing! Back on the court, the scores now stand at 27-23 after a lay-up from Art Teery and a submission from DJ Rawkus! "Kermit" has the ball.. quick pass to Barbie.. she feeds to Birdboy.. he leaps over the midget, spins by Voss.. shoots.. no good! The Domino picks up the rebound! Tostin Showers armdrags him to the floor! The ball is spilled.. Bobo Fiendish has it.. where's he going?

SW: He's charging the Teamsters bench! OH! G.I slow gets a faceful of basketball! The ball richochets back onto the court!

GBH: Birdy fly like eagle!

MM: SLAM-A-JAM-A-DING-DONG! Two points! Bobo isn't finished! He's got G.I Slow! Oh my God.. He's trying for a chokeslam!

SW: No frickin' WAY! He can't get that fata-(BLEEP)-s up! Not in a million.. HOLY S-(BLEEEEEP)-T!

SMASH!!!

MM: He did it! G.I Slow just got chokeslammed right through the bench! Bobo covers.. Flatline counts.. 1.. uhhh... 2.. uhh.. THREE!

SW: But he's not on either team! What was the count for?

MA: *ahem*.. Ladies and gentlemen.. the NEWWWWWWW "Are You Out Of your Frickin' Mind" Champion... BOBO FIENDISH!

MM: UNBELIEVABLE! We just got a new "AYOOYFM" Champ! What a shocking decison! Will it stand?

(Cut to the BigBOSSes)

BigB: Sure, why not?


I chokeslammed some dink through the earth's crust and all I got was this stupid BELT.
Monday, 07-Feb-2000 23:05:19

Bobo comes back after the upset win over the Teamsters with the AYOOYFM Strap slung over his shoulder. He seems to be a bit on the pleased side, but one can't tell for sure with these masked lunatics. He pulls the belt off his shoulder and looks at it... Then puts it back on his shoulder...

BQF: Hello, my intended....

Well, well, well, what can I say about this? My teammates managed to show that they WERE at least marginally enamored of their continued existences, and we won the basketball game. This pleases me. Further, some gigantic wad of chewed bubblegum thought he could claim he was a Champion in ANY fed - a delusion _I_ saw fit to grind to a halt poste haste. Now I've got a belt that says 'Are You Out of Your Freakin' Mind?'. Y'know there's a certain level of RIGHTNESS in such a belt being in the hands of the Angel of Death Most Exalted. But I digress...

Now, y'know, I'd usually make some dopey strap like this into a windchime or somesuch, but I've decided to pretend - for the sake of the fans - that it actually has meaning and defend it. This, of course, assumes that there's someone out there STUPID enough to step into the same BUILDING with me - let ALONE the same RING... Since that basically excludes anyone with two brain cells to rub together, I guess I'll have to see to some old business...

VOSS. You think you can go from a womanbeater to a child abuser and then just trot back down the yellow brick road with your new buddy 'Sweet & Low'? It is to laugh. I'm not finished with my little side mission of RE-ARRANGING the Stereo-Typical Face, and when I HAVE finally gotten the little squidgy in the ring, he'll look like a Picasso on peyote before I decide to toss him under the floorboards.

Now, I know you're all wondering... What about Blackjack? Well, I suppose I could bring up the fact that most of his kind came over in the same boats with pigs - and the PIGS complained of the smell. I suppose I could bring up that the only major contribution to humanity his kind made was alcoholism. I suppose I could even bring up that when he was in the line for 'Chins' he thought they said 'Gins' and ordered a double... Sure, I could. But I won't. Why? You already KNOW that stuff...

Don't get me wrong... Some of my best friends are potato-bugs... Heh.

BUT, when he knocks back enough of those rotgut lagers he's paid in - well, he gets rammy. Fine. Never let it be said that Bobo Q. Fiendish ducked some pickled paddy sot. If Flapjack Finnigan wants to take the Twelve Step program to stopping ALL his bad habits, then he can sign on the dotted line and take Bobo's Wild Ride. That goes for ANYONE - except Barbie. Sorry, but one thing I hate is a hypocrite, and if the Boss thinks he can swerve me by making me face some cheesecake for a Hardcore Title, well, he'll find it VERY difficult to give any more orders with my foot down his gullet like I'm TRYING HIM ON. But I digress...

So, give me whatever you want... I haven't dropkicked a midget into the cheap seats in a couple months, so if Voss or Mini-Mo want to get their names in the papers by stepping up, then they'll GET their names in the papers...

As OBITUARIES

See, I'd say getting his name in the papers was important to Flapjack, but everyone knows the only thing he can read is from a brewery... But rest assured if he wants to be stuffed feet first into his cowboy hat, I'll be happy to oblige.

You're Welcome... See You SOON.


Dare to be Stupid SUICIDAL

[Bobo storms about the warehouse hideout with wild fury. He is actually WEARING the AYOOYFM belt, but has spray-painted 'YES! OK?' on the buckle. Every once in a while he scans the card so far for MMM#7, and then punches the wall in fury. The camera starts moving backwards, as if the cameraman is attempting to sneak away. Bobo notices this, and strides up angrily.]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Well, it seems that after talking HUMONGOUS quantities of SHYTE, Justin Voss 'mysteriously' is booked for the next two cards... It is to laugh. First, he wants to beat that old 'Versus the Boss' drum that's been more used lately than Robert Downey Jr. at Lights Out.... THEN he wants to fight that COOK for a STRAP? First, we have to wonder why this ridiculous zipperhead even has a GREEN CARD - and as if that wasn't ridiculous enough, he has a CHAMPIONSHIP... Come ON. He can't even speak 'bruddy enguis', and his MANAGER studied it watching Benny Hill. But you know something, Chorrie?

Benny DEAD. So sollie.

Now, since Chow Min isn't stupid enough to sign on the line - and while his charge IS stupid enough, Hooked on Phonics hasn't worked for him just yet... Therefore, I present the following... Call it a Challenge if you want - I guarantee your INSURANCE company will call it a SUICIDE. It is as follows:

IF the Stereotyped Face with the Cliche'd Angle doesn't get past the Boss's Rented Goons - and considering his pathetic imitation of a wrestler as it is, the smart money's against it - you'll have a free night, won't'cha? Well, VK, let's have a go... Title VS. Taitowul. If there's any Viet Nam vets in the fanbase, this is a fight - and more importantly, a CONCLUSION - they'll pay MONEY to see... Heh. Don't worry, though, I'll leave enough of you for Chow Min Jr. to fry up for BEEF YAT.

Cameraman: Ewwww.... I mean, what if Voss wins?

BQF: IF, on the other hand, the Apocolypse Clock loses one of the Required Signs of the Endtimes - which is to say, Voss WINS and gets to face you... Well, AFTER that, I say this... Since Voss has a half fast partner in the hockeypuck hamster, I suggest a tag-match against ME and... Hmm... Who's presence in this promotion is ridiculous enough to match up with one of Santa's Sweatshoppers? Ah! BARBIE.

Cameraman: Barbie?

BQF: I know what you're thinking... But, Bobo, I thought you hated these mixed matches... I do. But since the midget has a girl for a partner, I figured I'd keep it fair... Heh. Assuming Barbie agrees to do this - and she'd be stupid NOT to - we can have a nice match where I get to use the midget for a club to smash Voss into a thick, red PASTE.... And Barbie gets to WATCH.

Now, they might give me another 'tune-up' match against someone that has no chance of beating me in the meantime... But you must realize that that statement pretty much covers the ENTIRE roster... This pleases me.

Cameraman: Mr.Fiendish... The Big Boss will be happy to give you a match for MMM#7...

BQF: But against whom? I've already scared Niege Thirteen into retirement, and the Doctor jobbed just in CASE they MIGHT make him face me... Thirty days is a long time to stall, Doc, but I can wait... So.... Who does that leave? Birdboy? PLEASE. That little puddlejumper couldn't outfight the Junkyard Dog...

Cameraman: Uh, Mr. Fiendish...? JYD is dead.

BQF: I know... NEXT... Kamikaze Ken? Hell, he can't even beat Birdboy... Forget it. He'd be a meatpatty with a side of COLESLAW in less than thirty seconds... The Phobic? It IS interesting that his gimmick is to be scared of everything, but I doubt even he'll be able to know where his gimmick ends and survival instinct begins... Heh. Mr. Claven? Must... Not.... Laugh.... That dope couldn't find the Winner's Circle with a Global Positioning Device and a six week headstart. You know WHY? Because it's a VALID mailing address. You know why E-Mail's so popular, Trashcan-Man? Because there's no digital equivalent of a slopbucket in a blue uniform, THAT'S WHY.

And THESE are the HEADLINERS? I don't even wanna go INTO the dinks that get paid 30 foodstamps to not win night after night... Not that they COULD WIN, of course, but I digress...

Cameraman: Uh... What about Blackjack Hooligan?

BQF: Who? The fat Irishman in the cowboy hat? It is to laugh. He couldn't beat me in his DREAMS - drunk OR sober - on the best day of his LIFE... The LAST of which, lahdie, will be OUR match. Honestly... I am a technician... A martial artist... A Shootfighter... And, most importantly, a SADISTIC MONSTER. He's an Alcoholic that stumbled into the wrong coatroom at Closing Time and kept the jacket and hat he found... Is that a match anyone thinks will be worth watching? Well, there are people who still rent 'Faces of Death' so I suppose there IS an OUTSIDE chance... But I digress... .

Cameraman: Sooo... What are you gonna do?

BQF: What am I going to do? Easy. Open match. I'll sign a fight order, and assuming there's someone that's tired of celebrating their BIRTHDAY in the BUILDING, he can sign the other line... It''s marked 'VICTIM' in case you can't find it at first glance, whoever you were... This sort of match gives a sense of surprise to the fans, since they won't know who the match will involve...

Which, I hope, compensates for them KNOWING how it will END...

You're welcome... See you SOON.


Monday Morning Mayhem 7
A couple of segments

(Cut to the locker room. Bobo Fiendish is shown, watching a monitor. He gets up without a word and heads to ringside.)

MM: Oh, boy! This is getting interesting.. here comes Bobo!

Bobo: Hello, my intended.. Now listen to me, shortarse.. this new womens divsion pleases me.. but if you want to get in the ring with them.. I will be forced to turn you into a Dali-esque garden ornament.. Have a nice day...

Barbie: *ahem*.. excuse me?

SW: Wait up! Here comes Justin Voss!

JV: Hey! Don't diss my little buddy like that! Or the lout-pouter and you will have some serious words! Maybe at "A Near Deth Experience"!

BB: Leave the PPV-plugs to Mike and Scotty... Now beat it, Voss, you've got a big match tonigh.. no, not HIM!

See, I said a couple segments, and here it comes

SW: Well, the standard of the promos are right on a par with the standard of the matches tonight.. what's next, Alex Smith versus Xenomorph?

MM: No... an "AYOOYFM" Title defence!

SW: All right! Blood, sweat and chairs! Who's Bobo fighting?

MM: I'm not sure.. let's head backstage and find out!

(Cut to The BOSSes, who are with Bobo Fiendish.)

BB: Bobo.. about your match.. uhhh... we had a slight problem finding an opponent...

Bobo: No-one signed for Bobo's Wild Ride, did they?

LB: Well, actually several signed.. Tostin Showers signed Birdboys name, Birdboy signed Viet Kongs name, XXXtreme signed Justin Voss's name.. you get the picture..

BB: But here's what we'll do.. you'll get a match at "NAGAM#2".. we'll find an opponent one way or another.. and then.. you'll also get to pick your own opponent for MMM#8!! And you get to set whatever stipulations you want! How's that sound?

(The camera zooms in on Bobo.. he almost.. not quite, but almost... smiles. We cut back to ringside.)

SW: Aw MAN! No "AYOOYFM" match!

MM: Well, you'll get to call it at "NAGAM" this week...


Here Comes the REIGN Again...

[Bobo is 'training' in the west area of the semi-reconstructed warehouse by swinging cinderblocks from chains in some sort of gauntlet... When they're all going at a decent clip, Bobo marches through them. The camera stays on him, and we can hear the operator muttering about witnessing a suicide... The first block swings at Bobo's head, but he whips off a backhand punch that changes its momentum abruptly.... Bobo continues to march.]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Well, well, well, has it been thirty days already? It must be, since I'm treated to the deluded ramblings of this part-timer - or more accurately, this wannabe... You just don't have any idea what you wanna be, do you? One second a T+Abodyshop monkey, one second some sort of 'toughguy', one second a one-man press kit... What's it gonna be? What hat do y0u plan to wear, anyway? In short... What's UP, Doc? Heh.

While you have the firm grasp of the obvious required to see that I am a force unbridled, even you cannot be so self-deluded as to believe you can do anything about it. Ever. However, even IF you were threatened WITH retirement more than Dusty Rhodes, I sincerely doubt it was voiced by another of my caliber. That aside, I'm sure you HAVE been in more scraps than the average BOBite... Scraps with HMOS, scraps with malpractice lawyers, hell even scraps from the table... But what does that mean? What do all your 'sold out barns' mean in the Big Picture? Here's a hint - besides retire, something ELSE Virgil Runnels is unable to do...

[Bobo keeps moving, and a cinderblock hurtles towards him...]

Cameraman: Bobo, look out!

[Bobo punches the block into fragments, and the chain bounces harmlessly off his shoulder.]

BQF: Answer: SQUAT.

You presume much, Doc. I already told you that I'm not hiring, so SPARE me the recitations of your resume'. We know you talk some tough stuff, even when you're supposed to stay silent... But hell, how can you expect a liar to keep his obligations, right? Heh. The reason I REALLY compare you to Flair is that you're both SORRY, TIRED and ANNOYING to listen to. Luckily, with the WCW seeming prepared to create a Seniors Division, he will have someone JUST as wretched and tired as he to kick him around the ring. You, on the other hand, will not. You will have ME to kick you around the ring, and believe me, Doc, you're NOT going to walk away from it under your own steam. I PROMISE.

[Bobo keeps moving, and a third cinderblock bears down... Bobo headbutts it away and continues to march.]

BQF: Now, before I get into the fact that 'capice' hasn't got an 's', let me tell you that you'd be MUCH better off part-timing somewhere ELSE. Say, the Kwik-E-Mart... Mind you, I think it's commendable that through creative scheduling you've turned an impressive string of minimum wage jobs into the appearance of a 'chic' lifestyle... However, this is but ONE of your illusions that I will bring to an end. I figure when you're crying and begging for me to stop twisting off your arms and legs, that should dissolve that 'toughguy' facade nicely. Mind you, your impersonation of the Church Lady was pretty spot-on... But I digress.

Watch all you want, Doc. Your REAL lesson is ahead of you... Study up.

[The last cinderblock flies at Bobo and shatters against his skimmer. There is no reaction, save from the cameraman...]

Cameraman: Holy SHYTE!

BQF: Get your ticket ready, Doc. Too bad it's not round trip, huh?

You're welcome... See you SOON.

(The camera fades...)

Cameraman: How the hell did you DO that?

BQF: Mind over matter, kid. If you don't mind, it don't matter. Heh.

Cameraman: I feel sorry for Dr.Plants...

BQF: Why should YOU be different?


Voss For A Loss

[We see Bobo Fiendish contemplating the hysterical rantings of Justin Voss. His eyes narrow as Voss lists his demands, and then widen in surprise as Voss verbally writes a suicide note... He stands as Voss continues his rant until Bobo puts a stop to it with the trusty Fling-A-Brick.]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Voss, you simpleton... Don't you remember? Whomever challenged whomever - in this case you challenging ME - would wait until the challenged accepted - which, incidently, I do - AND set the stipulations for the match. Sorry, no Food Fight for you... You want to know what match you just asked for? Bobo's Favorite... The NO ESCAPE MATCH.

You and I in an enclosed cage. No weapons. No allies. NO ESCAPE. Winner to be determined SOLELY by pinfall... In case you haven't caught on, you're going to spend alot of time HURTING before I put your shoulders on the mat... ONE IN EACH NEUTRAL CORNER.

Now, you're probably thinking the same thing the Boss is... Why is everyone after YOU? Easy. After the peons saw how much heat I get for kicking you around, they figured it was a gravy-run to glory by grabbing my coattails... Fine. I'm used to a certain degree of emulation. Who WOULDN'T want to be like the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED? But I digress... Rest assured that there's a critical difference between them and myself...You know what that is?

You have a CHANCE against THEM.

Now, since you've ducked me since I got here, you want to try to come off all tough by trying to 'turn the tables' and chase me, eh? Consider THAT plan officially BACKFIRED. You're not a 'face', Voss. You're a 'fuss'. All noise and no toys... Awwww.... That kind of stereo-typical crap went out with 'Rock 'n Wrestling', and it's high time you JOINED IT. You have the TEMERITY to think you can tell ME when MY life is going to end? Must... Not... Laugh... I guess that means you've hired a SNIPER. Heh.

Enough. You and me. NO ESCAPE. The Boss can drop the 'Near' in the PPV title, too... And there's nothing you can do about it...

'CEPT LOSE.

You're Welcome... See you SOON.


NAGAM 2
Bobo Q. Fiendish vs. ??? (Mr. Claven, whoops, there goes the suspense…)

SW: We're back. Wow "Charlie", two matches and you've interferred in both of them. Not to mention you've added Blackjack Hooligan with Viet Kong. Looking for those vacant tag titles?

"C": Maybee, maybee noot. Hey, wheir Brackjack beer card?

SW: Ummmmm...Flunkie took it. It's time for our next match...Bobo Fiendish will defend his "AYOOYFM" hardcore title against...well, nobody has signed yet. Let's go to the back...

"C": Yoo shoor yoo noot see beer card?

SW: Haven't seen it. Ummm, Flunkie has it. I told you that already.

(Cut to backstage with BigBOSS and Li'lBOSS.)

BB: Okay, who did we schedule to wrestle Bobo tonight?

LB: Well, nobody WANTS to wrestle him. I think everybody is afraid of Bobo.

BB: Bloody hell! Get the damn Medium Sized Bucket(tm) and pick him an opponent...I'm going to find Psremzlwvk and send him back to wherever he came from in that stupid box of his.

LB: Oh, come on BigBOSS! He agreed to work for 200 Kabukis a week!

BB: Can we afford that?

LB: I don't see why not... Kabukis are pancakes...

(Back to ringside...)

SW: WHOO HOO! Pickupsticks might be getting the axe! Hey "Charlie", I bet you don't get involved in this next match.

"C": Wha? Mee noot stoopid.

(Purple fog begins to emerge from the ramp stage. Yngwie Malmsteen's "See You In Hell (Don't Be Late)" begins to play. Voice Over:"HELLO, MY INTENDED." Humongous pop at the voice over as the fans realize who is coming, and they're not stupid, either. Bobo Fiendish appears out of the fog and slowly strolls to the ring with his title in hand.)

SW: Man, this guy is creepy. I wonder what fodder Li'lBOSS pulled out of the bucket...

MA: Ladies and Gentlemen, this match is for the "Are You Out Of Your Friggin' Mind" Hardcore title. First, because the challenger has yet to be determined...the champion...parts unknown, weight unknown...BOBOOOOOOOOOO Q. FIENDISH!

SW: *COUGH* *COUGHsquash* Excuse me. Hey, here's Bobo's b!tch...ummmm, I mean opponent. Crap, that better not get me another week with "Charlie".

"C": Yoo shoor yoo noot see beer card?

(Eddie B. cues "Where Everybody Knows Your Name"...the theme from "Cheers", just to be an @ss. Mr. Claven is pushed out from behind the curtain by the Li'LBOSS...

LB: I picked you out of the bucket, HONEST!"

Claven: "YOU DID NOT YOU F(bleep)ING LIAR!"

SW: Now look...Lock, Shock, and Barry are having to drag Mr. Claven to the ring!

Claven: "GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! I'M WITH THE U.S. POSTAL SERVICE! I'LL SHOW YOU, I'LL SHOW YOU ALL!"

SW: LOOK AT THIS! Mr. Claven is uhhhh...GOING POSTAL! He just took out Lock, Shock, and Barry! He's in the ring...HE NAILED THE MASKED ANNOUNCER WITH HIS MAILBAG! HE WAFFLED THE GENERIC REF!

"C": Uh-oh...Feendish goot him...AH SOOKIE!

SW: Claven breaks free from Bobo! Whips Fiendish into the ropes...SPINNING MAILBAG HEEL KICK! Claven is a house of fire! (still miss you, Gorilla) I think that's first time Bobo has been knocked off his feet!

"C": Deedn't rast rong...

SW: You're right, Scooby. Bobo is back up. Crescent kick stops Claven in his tracks. Northern lights suplex! Bobo now outside the ring, he has a table...

"C": Harcoor!

SW: RUT ROW! RORRY RAGGY! Uhhhh, sorry. Bobo has Claven up on the table in the middle of the ring...wait, who is that fat guy?!

Crowd:"NORM!"

SW: IT'S G. I. SLOW! Maybe he wants revenge on Bobo for taking his title!

(Slow waddles down to the ring, passes by, and quickly shuffles his large rump up the aisle.)

SW: What was THAT all about?

"C": Free peenoot at conceeshun stan'.

SW: So, G.I. Slow could care less about this match or revenge, he just wants to be first in line! Bobo with the "Farewell To The Flesh" THROUGH THE TABLE!

"C": Dee coffur, won...too... an' tree.

SW: Nice effort by Mr. Claven...but it just wasn't enough tonight. I was really looking foward to that "Special Delivery", too.

MA: The WINNA! And still the "AYOOYFM" Champion...BOBOOOOOOOOOO Q. FIENDISH!


Ill Postino

[Bobo paces in the hideout seeming more agitated than usual... NEVER a good thing. Every once in a while, he stops, and runs through the motions of the 'Farewell'... Then he continues to pace...]

Cameraman: Uh, Mr. Fiendish...? We're cutting a promo here...

BQF: Eh? Oh... Right...

Hello, my intended...

Well, I'm still trying to figure out how Claven survived the Farewell... Mayhap I didn't apply it correctly before driving his fat head through that table... Mayhap I realized that his pathetic life as it was stood was more punishment than I could inflict, and thus released him before impact... I know not.

Cameraman: Uh, mayhap one actually has to HAVE a spine before you can BREAK it?

BQF: ......Mayhap. Hmmm... That must be it. Let us consider the evidence...

BOSTON is a city populated by cowards... Look at their history... The SINGLE act that they are known for is that Tea Party those two-hundred odd years past. But, rather than simply - and honestly - ENACT that little protest, they dressed up as Natives so that the redcoats would blame - and subsequently punish - the indigenous peoples... Yay, team. As you can see, it would have made more sense for them to dress up as Chinamen, since they were ALL YELLOW. Fast forward to the present, and we note the stellar examples of Boston Commoner... Fat, lazy, stupid, and ever-forgetful of the monthly bathing. Normally, such a troglodyte as is spawned in Boston is usable for little except civil service, and even THAT they tend to foul up. Which I surmise is why Mr. Craven is no longer a mail-it.

Cameraman: Uh, don't you mean mailMAN, or at the very least mailPERSON or mailCARRIER?

BQF: .......No. Now, in case the fat slob wants to take offense, let me just say this...

Mail tampering - specifically the interference with the delivery of same - is a federal offense. Now, since it's obvious that Craven STOLE every letter he ever had put in his bag - presumably to perpetrate that he had FRIENDS who could WRITE - that makes him guilty... And what does the Angel of Death Most EXALTED do to the guilty?

That's RIGHT. He PUNISHES them. Cookie for you.

Camerman: So, you're not worried about Craven - er - CLAVEN going POSTAL on you, Mr. Fiendish?

BQF: It is to laugh. Go Postal? What does that mean, really? The only place I've ever seen mail-its go is a BAR - WITH the mail... Sometimes, even with the MALE, but I digress... I'm sure the Post Office has adopted a 'Don't Ask - Don't Tell' Policy, though it seems they did so AFTER drumming Craven out of service... Awww... Another victim of poor timing.... OR they just used it as an excuse to drive you out, eh, Cliffie? Kinda like a conspiracy, huh? Heh.

Mr. Craven, I see fit to impart to you this lesson... Never forget it, no matter where you go, as long as you live...

Ahem....

Nobody Likes You.

You're welcome... See you SOON.


Monday Morning Mayhem 8
Bobo Q. Fiendish vs. Kamikazie Ken

MM: And we're BACK! Our Main event is ready to go! It's a "Get Yo Butt Out Of The Boiler Room Brawl"! As you can see, the "AYOOYFM" Title belt is hanging in one corner of the ring.. the only way to win this match is to exit the boiler room, make your way to the ring, climb the pole, retrieve the belt and sing the National Anthem.. although we won't be too strict on the last bit..

SW: One question, springs to mind, Mike...

MM: What?

GBH: Duh.. Can't. See. Hurty guys.

SW: You see? Even GBH pointed it out.. we don't have monitors yet! Can we move closer to the BOB-Tron or something?

MM: Good call!

(There is several minutes of silence as the announce team drag their table closer to the big screen. We cut to a shot of Bobo entering the boiler room. There is no sign of Ken.)

Bobo: Here Kenny, Kenny, Kenny! Heh.

(As he moves through the boiler room, the camera slowly pans upwards, revealling Kamikazie ken standing on top of the largest boiler, cape outstreched.)

MM: Okay, we're in postion now.. OH MY LORD! Ken has set an ambush for Bobo.. SINTON BOMB OFF THE BOILER! Bobo never saw it coming, while still helping to break Kens fall! Both men crash through a pile of Ezy-Break(TM) plastic pipes! What a start to the match!

SW: Yeah! This one is going to make up for all the crap we had to sit through today! Ken has a plastic pipe.. shatters it over Bobos' head! YEAH!

MM: This match is going to be brutal, folks! Bobo makes it to his feet.. Ken backs off.. no, he's getting a run-up.. Flying side-kick! Bobo is blasted over a conveniently-placed saw horse! There's no padding there! You have to think neither man will be the same after this one!

SW: And with these two men, that could only be an improvement! Do you think Bobo's finally found someone crazier than he is?

MM: Only time will tell, Scotty!

GBH: Duh.. Blue guy. Got wood.

MM: What?? Are you trying to get us cancelled?

GBH: Duh. He does. He got wood.

MM: Stop it!

SW: It's a plank, Mike, relax!

MM: Oh, thank God for that! Bobo gets a two-by-four across the shoulder blades! Where's Ken going now? Oh, my! He's setting up a ladder! That's a REAL ladder, folks!

SW: Way to keep hyping it, Mikey! Ken is going up all right.. he's gotta be ten feet up.. MOONSAULT!

All: OHHHHH!

MM: Bobo met Ken in mid-air.. that drop-kick got Kenny right in the face!

SW: Not to mention his head hitting the concrete.. that's adding injury to injury! Both men are down! Who's the toughest? Who wants it worse!

MM: That's the way, Scotty, keep spewing out those cliches like a good color announcer should! Bobo's up! He drags Ken up and rams him headfirst into the side of the boiler! And again! Ken's spitting teeth out left, right and center! Where are they going now?

SW: That pile of building materials is a good guess! Oh, nice use of the tiles by Bobo! Kens much-abused cranium is taking a pounding today!

MM: Fiendish whips Ken into a large, teetering pile of bricks, which collapse on cue! Bobo tries to follow up with a clothesline.. Ken ducks! Backdrop onto the bricks! That's gotta hurt! Ken drops an elbow to the winded Bobo..Ken is making his way towards the door of the boiler room! Bobo hauls himself out of the bricks.. he's found a sheet of plate glass!

SW: I can't watch!

SMASH! TINKLE!

SW: Is Ken okay?

MM: I don't know, I couldn't watch either!

GBH: Duh.. ouchy!

MM: Ken is down and he's bleeding from half a dozen locations! Bobo steps over him and opens the door! He's out of the boiler room, but this one is a long way from being over! Ken is back to his feet, and he also staggers out of the boiler room! They're duking it out in the hallway! Bobo is rammed into the wall! Ken has got a water cooler! BAM! Bobo is soaked and bruised! Ken's throwing Bobo into the locker room! BOB Superstars scatter like chickens! Big SeXXXy didn't get out of the way in time! Bobo cannons into him.. he goes down hard!

SW: Look out! Ken's not done! Springboard splash off a table! Bobo rolls away!

THUD!!

Big SeXXXy: ow! that hurt!

MM: Bobo grabs Ken from behind.. running bulldog!! Kens head just went through a retaining wall! Bobo drags him back out and makes another Ken-shaped window! Bobo is taking no prisoners here! Ken reaches out blindly, plaster dust showering off him! He's got one of Blackjack Hooligans beers!

SMASH!

MM: Right over Bobos skull! Ken's got another bottle! Make it a double! Blackjack looks outraged at the wastage of his brews! He's coming after Ken...

SMASH!

SW: I guess he doesn't mind breakage as long as he's the one doing it! Ken and Bobo stumble out of the locker room! They're heading for.. is that a kitchen?

MM: It sure is! The Foam Dome put in a "Wendys" burger bar last month! And these two are going at it right in the middle of it! Bobo gets a stack of plastic trays over his head! He retaliates with a ketchup dispenser! Ken is blinded! He staggers back.. Bobo's got him!! He's trying to feed Kens hands through the bun-toaster! Ken mulekicks Bobo to escape! He armdrags Bobo into the industrial-sized sinks! Bobo makes good his escape with a handy hose! This is incredible!

SW: Where are they going now? Oh, my! Look out! Ken whips Bobo towards the wall.. reversal.. reversed again. and again.. the momentum building..and building.. LOOK OUT!

GBH: Duh. Extra-crispy..

MM: GOOD LORD! OH MY GOD! Ken was just flung onto the grill! Stop the match! This is insane!

GBH: Duh. They kill. Kenny. Bastards. Hur hur hur..

SW: No, don't stop it! Let 'em fight it out! Let's see who wants it more!

MM: A somewhat-singed Ken rolls off the grill! He's in big trouble! Bobo turns and stalks out towards ringside! He's got a clear run to the belt! The fans are going nuts! Bobo is in the aisle now, and it looks like nothing can stop him!

SW: Wait a minute.. do you hear that? What is that?

MM: It sounds like.. a golf cart! Ken's found a golf cart.. and he's driving it at Bobo at full speed! DIRECT HIT! Bobo is blasted into the second row!

SW: Ken can't control the golf cart! He's heading right for us! RUN!!!

SMASH!!!!!

...Brrrzt..friizbit..test..neeeurrr.. bzzt...

(The nex six minutes are silent, accompanied with shots of Ken lying in the remains of the announce table, and shots of Bobo climbing out of the crowd and back into the ring.)

(***Bell eventually rings)

MA: Here is your winner.. and STILLLL "AYOOYFM" Champion.. BOBO Q. FIENDISH! Th'-th'-th'-that's all, folks!


Voss-pitality

[We see Bobo standing resolute with the 'AYOOYFM' belt over his shoulder so the folks at home can see where he painted 'YES! OK?' on it. He seems somewhat LESS psychotically enraged than he usually is, and the wrestling world wonders what he's up to while the BOB staff wonder where their next meal is coming from... He looks out the window, and almost seems to sigh wistfully... That, or he's feeling ESPECIALLY evil today, and is trying to sucker us into dropping our guard...]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Well, well, WELL.... Shortly AFTER I deign to be part of Justin's assisted suicide, he goes and wins the Swiss Army Belt... This pleases me. Now it's starting to ALMOST look like a REAL PPV... Justin... The Hopelessly Hollow Hero Hybrid - 4H for short - gets to face off against The Angel of Death Most EXALTED - Bobo for short... AND as an added bonus to the fourteen people that will make up our buy-rate, it'll be a Clash of the Titles... Swiss Army Voss against Hardcore Bobo for all the marbles in the NO ESCAPE Enclosed Cage...

Mind you, I kinda thought Kong would have beat you, which would send you to our match at the PPV with either grim determination, or no will to continue living... Either way would suffice, but you had to mess up the works by winning the belt, didn't you? Now Bobo will have to modify your Entry Music... To wit:

If you're crappy and you know it,
Cheer for Voss.
If you're nose is runnin' blow it,
Cheer for Voss...

But when ol' Bobo runs out,
And tears your hero's lungs out,
And you ask 'Why'd he do that?'
Just BE - COSS.

Heh. Fans, for too long you've been led to believe that this limpet is worthy of your adulation... He isn't. This guy had to hire a MIDGET so he wouldn't be a liar when he said that people looked up to him. This guy got beat half to death by a GIRL. This guy propositions CHILDREN with Pokemon Cards. This guy runs to the Big Boss to try to weasel out of matches...

THIS guy is your HERO? Must... Not... Laugh...

Now, we all know that once Bobo gets his POWERFUL, VISELIKE hands on your 'hero', there will be much suffering for him - and whomever in the front few rows that have weak stomaches, and no 'splash protection'. This suffering will continue UNABATED, because there is no 'Tapping Out'... No 'I Quit'... No MERCY... Voss, you've always struck me as the kind of guy that desperately wants to 'fit in'... Well, after our match you WILL 'fit in'... A PRINGLE'S CAN. You think you can put a smile on MY dial, Justin? Well, you will... After I put a SHINE on your SPINE and hang it ALL on a WALL.

Now, I notice that you were in front of a mirror saying 'Who's your Daddy'... Well, your mom didn't tell you because she didn't KNOW... I mean, when the poor sap turned out all the lights so he couldn't SEE her, she pretty much couldn't see him. All she knew was that she REALLY needed that five bucks... Heh.

You presume to be able to take my testes and smack me in the skimmer with them until I hemhorrage? It is to laugh. Such pillow-talk is better spent on your naked dwarf, and he's MUCH more receptive to it. But I digress... You're not GOING to the 'Ring that Voss built', Justin... You're going on a RIDE. Bobo's WILD RIDE. But you can call it the HELL EXPRESS... And there's NOTHING you can DO about it...

'CEPT SCREAM.

Now when you and I mix it up, rest assured that I will break a COPIOUS amount of your BONES... Not JUST because puds like you with their watered-down 'Hulkamania' ripoffs are an EMBARRASSMENT to the SPORT. Not JUST because dinks like you turn this fine sport into the KISS PsychoCircus, with your midgets and freaks and ridiculous gimmick matches. Not JUST because you have that STUPID 'happyface' on your STUPID, HAPPY ASS... No, not JUST because of any of those... JUST BECAUSE of ALL of those... And because I CAN.

I know what you're thinking... Good will always triumph over evil, right? Well, that only works if you're any GOOD. Awww.... Should've read that fine print, huh? I mean, really... Fans Count the Pin? Last time I checked, people that cheer for you are too ignorant to be ABLE to count to three... In fact, if they lost ONE MORE brain-cell, they'd be dumb enough to fall off the WORLD. Vegetarian Weapons? The only vegetable the fans are going to see is a SQUASH, unless they visit you at the HOSPITAL after the show... But I digress...

All will be settled come the PPV... A DEATH Experience. I'm Bobo, and I'll be your MAULER for that evening...

You're welcome... See you SOON.


Sister? Oh, BROTHER...

[We see Bobo Fiendish relaxing in front of the television as Sister Von Trapp's promo rolls past. He seems somewhat bemused by it, but pays attention all the same...]

==You will be delighted to know that in His own time, God has revealed to me the exact stipulations of our forthcoming match ==

BQF: This should be funny... Heh.

==It will be a lumberjack match, in which all those who assist in the lumberjacking are to be dressed as religious figures, such as Jesus Christ, Martin Luther, or Ulrich Zwingli.==

BQF: Oh? Hmmm.... I pick Gabriel.The original Angel of Death... Heh. And since he can look any way he pleases, that gets me out of that stupid costume bit... Though as I recall, except for Jesus, Joseph and Noah, not too many religious figures had much to do with lumber... But I digress...

==He has asked me to point out that Justin Voss is not a religous figure, he just seems to think he is God. Remember Justin, true greatness walks hand in hand with humility. ==

BQF: What IS this with picking on Voss? I mean, he's an easy enough target, but when people start stealing my angles ten seconds after they get off the BOAT, something's to be done. Soon.

==Also, in the match, the only way to win is via pinfall, as forcing your opponent to scream for mercy is ungodly, and the fans don't want count outs or DQ's and God always gives the people what they want. ==

BQF: WHAAAAAT? What the hell did she say? Win only by pinfall? The stupid COW... That's MY match. MINE. This is getting flippin' RIDICULOUS... And for a match between a nun and a dwarf to just NOW start getting ridiculous, that's saying something...

==Blessings be upon you all, apart from the Little Big Man, the Stereotyped Face, and anyone else who stands in between me and my Daddy. ==

BQF: Is this chick RETARDED? Her Daddy? Does this look like 'National Lost Loved One Search'? No, clearly not. Obviously, she's a few beads short of a rosary... BUT that's no excuse to just flippin' PLAGARIZE the hell out of ME, and that's that...

[Bobo notices the camera....]

Hello, my intended.

Well, well, well... What have we here? GOD has made it clear to her what stips she should have, has He? It is to laugh... I guess even GOD knows a good idea when He hears one, huh? Sister, a few moments ago I would have said that there was no way in heaven, hell, or Hoboken that I'd get involved in anyone's match... But you know what? Since you're trying to steal MY thunder on the UNDERcard by having MY match, well, that is not to BE... PERIOD.

Normally, I would take some delight in tearing off all your arms and legs... BUT since you are a WOMAN, I can't... Fine. I guess God DOES watch over fools... Lemme check my wallet...

[Bobo fishes in his wallet and produces a fistful of money.]

BQF: There's someone out there that owes me a favor... SHE knows who SHE is, and I have...

[Bobo counts the money.]

BQF: Two-hundred and seventy-eight dollars for her if she'll knock this penguin for a row of ashcans poste haste. What say, Bride? Almost three-hundred bucks, AND you get to make it STANDING UP for a change. Wotta deal! BUT... IF this nun gets to the frickin' ring, you don't get a PENNY. That's fair, I think...

But just to be sure, I'll take this sock full of NICKELS from the Church POORBOX... And twirl it like so...

[Bobo twirls the loaded sock - it swishes in a circle at an alarming rate of speed.]

BQF: And... Should the Bride FAIL... Well...

[Bobo pivots, and the sock bashes against the wall with a thunderous impact... Bobo pulls the sock back, and the cinderblock wall is cracked where the sock smashed it.]

BQF: ACCIDENTS happen when people swing these around, y'know? And accidents can happen to GIRLS as well as GUYS, so be careful out there, sister... Heh. God isn't the ONLY one watching...

You're welcome... See you SOON.


She's a Blonde, Single Girl in a Fantasy World...

[We see Bobo Fiendish swirling his Patented Poorbox Sock-o-Swag as he watches Barbie cut a rare interview.]

Barbie: I know that many of you have been wondering just what I've been up to.

BQF: I already KNOW what you're up to... The eighth bottle of peroxide this week. Heh.

Barbie: I mean, it isn't every day that the sexiest wrestler in BOB decides to pull the silent treatment.

BQF: Actually, it HAS been every day... For over a month.

Barbie: But I've had more important things to do than jabber endlessly to a bunch of no-talent losers! Unlike most of you fools, I actually have a life.

BQF: Well, isn't THIS interesting...? So she's had more important things to do, has she? Has a LIFE, does she? It is to laugh... Can't be bothered talking to us since her job at the mall is taking so much of her time, I suppose...

Barbie: I never did get the chance to brag about my victory over that moron, Justin Voss. Justin, how did it feel being defeated by the greatest athlete to enter this pathetic federation? (she laughs)

BQF: WELL, at least she got THAT right... Then he let Barbie make the cover... Heh.

Barbie: I know. I know. It kinda leaves you speechless, huh? I guess that will teach all of you morons to never underestimate the power of this Sex Siren! That goes for the "women", and I use that term very loosely, in this fed, as well. Von Trapp, you and I won't have a problem as long as you realize that I am the goddess of BOB. As long as you stay in your god-given role as second best, you won't have to worry about me smacking the taste out of your mouth.

BQF: Oh, yes... You did SUCH a good job the last time... The way you smacked her across the shoulder with your chin, and then just laid there while she made her escape. She's obviously hiding in the convent so you won't fall on her when you crash... Again.

Barbie: (she laughs) Who am I kidding?

BQF:Definitely not me...

Barbie: As if I would ever pass up the opportunity to give some old hag a beatdown! But I didn't come here to badmouth Von Trapp. She gets enough of that from the fans when she wobbles to ringside.

BQF: Oh? And what DID we come to say? I'm guessing it isn't 'Thanks for protecting me, Bobo...'

Barbie: I came to issue a challenge to any and all of the wrestlers in BOB. Do any of you have the guts to test yourself against moi? Come one and come all. It doesn't matter if you're man, woman, or filthy beast, I'm an equal opportunity ass kicker! Anyone up to the challenge?

[Bobo's eyes narrow as she prattles about with her 'World's Greatest Athlete' schtick, and he finally puts a stop to it with an overhand swipe of the Sock-o-Swag that sends yet another cheap TV to the big Nick-At-Nite. He wheels on the camera and holds up a hand, as if asking for a moment to collect himself. The moment passes, and he speaks...]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Well, isn't THIS a kick in the pants? Not that we EXPECTED too much in the way of gratitude, but to completely take credit for pinning a Voss that was ALREADY unconscious when we POURED him into the ring is a bit much... So, she wins one match, and now she's all TOUGH, huh? Wants to toss Challenges around now, eh? It is to laugh...

Well, in response, all I can say is this: Barbie Banner is NO LONGER under my protection. She is on her OWN. Since we SAW what a stellar competitor she is on Thursday's House Show when the Nun left her seeing STARS, you'd have to admit that she's ASKING for it, folks. Give it to her. With my BLESSING. Heh. I'm sure David Hasselhoff carries a grudge against ALL stuck up peroxide blondes that should be seen and not heard, and that's just ONE of no doubt DOZENS of people that would LOVE to pin your ears back, Babs. And judging from your mat skills as presented thus far... Well, kid, it's lucky you already GOT a PRIEST handy.

Personally, I would consider the RIDICULOUS, INANE, ADDLE-PATED ramblings of the Bride to be just another Blonde Joke. But it's so much more... She wants to make an impression, does she? Fine. She can do that at the DENTIST's office when he fits her for her NEW TEETH. She thinks I was threatening HER? What a blonde... In case anyone else out there is as vacuous as Babs, then let me state SUCCINCTLY that when I said 'Accidents Happen to Girls as well as Guys,' it was regarding Mouse vonTrapp. If Babs had just kept her MOUTH shut, she could have made some money, but I guess keeping her mouth shut isn't how she WANTS to earn money. Though, I suppose, swallowing is extra... Heh.

Now then, seeing as how I had to squash the munchkin myself, that means you FAILED to stop the nun from impugning upon my signature match. Therefore, you get NO CASH, Babs. Sorry, but at least you get a consolation prize...

A Damn Fine BEATING - Courtesy of the Angel of Death Most Exalted.

The stakes are thus... Remember that two-hundred seventy-eight bucks I WAS going to give Barbie? Well, now it's for YOU. I don't care WHO does it, I want 'the Bride' to made PAINFULLY aware of her limitations... Poste Haste. If she can still WALK at the end of the pay-per-view, I'll consider it a BOTCH - but I have faith in the 'boys'. I know how little the roster gets paid, so this should be an offer NO ONE can refuse.

Talk about a Witch Hunt, huh? Tally-ho.

You're welcome... See you SOON.


Countdown to Extinction

[Bobo Fiendish sits in front of the TV with a sinister smile on his face. He looks to the calender, and the folks at home see that the date of the PPV is circled in red.]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Well, as even OUR fanbase can clearly see, I'm looking forward to the Pan-Galactic Championship Match which - unless I get hit by a bus or kidnapped by the Visitors - will end with me being crowned the Pan-Galactic Champion... This pleases me.

Now, you might be saying, 'But Bobo, Justin Voss is a tough competitor... Justin Voss is the Swiss Army Champ - after beating Viet Kong, who beat HIM for it before.' And I'll have to reply, 'SO?' Justin Voss couldn't fight his way out of BED - as anyone can clearly see. He's just a strand of wheat before the COMBINE HARVESTER that is... The ANGEL of DEATH Most... EXALTED.

Voss, you couldn't take a SHIRT to the cleaners... In fact, the only people you DO take to the cleaners are your two dozen fans and assorted family members that you get to squander their SSI checks on tickets so they can cheer for you. Now you're calling yourself the 'Federation'? It is to laugh. Guess that means you watch 'Star Trek' or something... Lemme guess, 'No one conquers the Federation' or somesuch, right? Bah. You watch too much television... I mean, really, 'A Real American Hero'? Well... Knowing is half the battle... Heh.

Let's be realistic... YOU are a pop-tart. Square. Sweet. And full of jelly. Whereas I am the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED. When such as you DARES step into the ring against such as I... Well, you big foo-foo, I hope you're not too attached to your KIDNEYS. When you get closed into that cage with ME... NO ESCAPE... and I lay these big hands on your scrawny little Swiss Army chest to see whether I can pry the Can-Opener attachment out of your RIBCAGE, I figure that you'll take a personal moment to ask yourself two very important questions... To wit:

"I thought I could WIN? Was I DRUNK?'

You think you can shout down from on high that you deign to accept a hardcore match? "If you want hardcore, you GOT hardcore," you say? Must... Not... Laugh... You FOOL. Hardcore doesn't BEGIN to describe the man, the myth, the monster that is Bobo Fiendish. I guess it's standard for a dink like you to pretend to agree to match stipulations you BLUNDERED into. Remember? But to just out and out LIE that I'd have No Chance in Hell (and where have we heard THAT before? Hmmm) to stomp your yellow guts out and take MY Pan-Galactic Championship? SPARE ME your wild fantasy. The only place you could POSSIBLY win is the Neighborhood of Make-Believe, and even there it's posted 20 to 1 against...

Now, I see that you've got your midget back. This pleases me. This means, naturally, that you'll have to lower the handles on your WHEELCHAIR so he can push you around. Of course, you'll have to play navigator on the Federation Shuttle with your one good eye, but that's to be expected... Sadly, he'll have to drop his book in the Lollipop Guild to join Helper Monkey Local E-E, but I digress...

Voss, the second thing that should be going through your mind - right behind my FIST - is whether you have your affairs in order. For example, on the off chance I leave any of them undamaged, you should sign an organ donor card... Maybe shave the dwarf and pass him off as your son so he can get some of that SSI bonanza? Maybe get that WILL written... You know how those trailer-trash relatives of yours are after a funeral/flea market, so you better divvy up your property now... Just don't let Andy stand on the lawn too long, or they'll snatch him when they get your flamingo. Heh.

The fans are going to see something they've never seen before in BOB... A wrestling match. Sure, it'd be better if it was between two WRESTLERS, but you'll have to settle for the Stereo-Typical Face. BRIEFLY. So fans, take some advice from your buddy Bobo... Buy all the cheesy Voss-Man merchandise you can... They're about to become COLLECTOR'S ITEMS. Think of the resell on some of the bones I DON'T crush. Gotta catch a rib...

You're welcome... See you SOON.


The Wrath of Khan EX-Con

[Bobo Fiendish gets set to hear the eloquent retort of Justin Voss. It blurs by, and Bobo looks puzzled. He rewinds the tape, and sets it for slo-mo, and STILL misses it. He taps his foot impatiently as he wires the news-services for a transcript. Ten seconds later the computer prints it out, and Bobo closely studies the sentence. He looks to the printer - perhaps expecting more - but nothing else comes over the wire. He crumples the paper and flings it into the trashcan.]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Well, even I'm surprised by this one, folks... Justin Voss seems intent to mount a campaign based on speeches that fit on bumper-stickers... I mean, come on! If I BLINKED I would have missed that last promo, Justy. This is beginning to look like you don't take me seriously as an opponent. Well, if that's the case then let me say this:

Those photos you have of the Big BOSS? He now knows you made them with Photoshop... Looks like your 'Ace in the Hole' just got trumped. Awww.... Too bad.

Now to business... I've decided to show the fans a Champion Caliber Promo, and for that I visited the soup kitchen and retrieved THIS.

[Bobo points to a large box with air-holes gouged in it. Soft sobbing is barely audible through the styrofoam peanuts. Bobo kicks the box, and it breaks open like a piñata. A smallish man in a bowler hat with a microphone in his hand spills out amidst the chaff, and Bobo hauls him to a vertical base...]

Dennis: I say there, old chap, where the bloody hell am I? It was Fish and Chips night at the bowery!

BQF: Are you not Dennis, of Brawlers on a Budget?

Dennis: Well, I'm Dennis... I haven't been allowed to interview anyone since they signed me, though... Hard cheese, I s'pose, but the rub is that I foolishly signed a pay-per-appearance contract; which brought me to the desperate times you trundled me away from in a box. Bit of a rip, that, eh what?

BQF:.........That's just sad. Well, since I went through all the trouble to fetch you, you may as well do your thing... Who knows? It might not suck...

Dennis: What are you asking?

BQF: Duh? Why did they hire you?

Dennis: I was cheap.

BQF: BESIDES that, you dink.

Dennis: I'm an interviewer?

BQF: Well, the jury's still deliberating...

Dennis: Are YOU a wrestler with... With BOB?

BQF: Would anyone NOT in BOB know it existed?

Dennis: Oh, happy day! I can finally make some money without losing a pint of blood!

BQF:....Jury's still out on THAT too. Heh.

Dennis: Uh... Well, moving right along, sir... What exactly is your name?

BQF: Fiendish. Bobo Fiendish.

Dennis: Very droll... Nice jab with the 'Bond' bit, but really...

BQF: No. REALLY. My name is Bobo Fiendish... Also known as the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED.

Dennis: Ooooo-Kay... And what brings you to Brawlers on a Budget?

BQF: A bus.

Dennis: Two for two, then. Smashing...

BQF: Let's not get ahead of ourselves... Heh.

Dennis: I... -Ahem- Well, uh, how long have you been in BOB, uh, Bobo...?

BQF: A good while, now...

Dennis: And what do you think of the other wrestlers here?

BQF: Not much.

Dennis: Well, that's grand... What have you been doing here, uh, in BOB?

BQF: Winning.

Dennis: Uh... Future plans, or dare I imagine?

BQF: Glad you asked... I figure at a Death Experience - BOBs Third PPV - I will jump up and down on the Stereo-Typical Face Justin Voss until he's paper thin and DRY. After that, I expect to hold on to the Pan-Galactic Championship for thirty days, after which they'll probably take it away because nobody wants to fight me, PERIOD. Belt or not. Not that I blame them, of course... For what the 'boys' make here, they'd have to be STUPID to step up for a severe thrashing at the hands of the Man, the Myth, the MONSTER that IS... Bobo Fiendish.

Dennis: Uh, what makes you so certain that you'll defeat Justin Voss? People like to see faces win... And I also hear that he has pictures of the Big BOSS in flagrante...

BQF: Those are fakes.

Dennis: Really?

BQF: Yes. Pretty amateurish cut and paste job, too...

Dennis: Fascinating... So, what you''re saying is that Justin is going to have his hands full at a Death Experience?

BQF: Well, he will once I give him back his HEAD... But I digress.

Dennis: Thanks EVER so.... Well, folks... Can Good triumph over Evil? Will Justin Voss overcome what seems to be impossible odds and defeat this... Monster?

BQF: Not bloody likely, guv'nuh. Heh.

Dennis: That wasn't very nice...

BQF: And?

Dennis:.....Right then. Any parting comments for the folks at home?

BQF: Certainly. Folks, for too long you have been hoodwinked by the likes of the Stereo-Typical Feces Justin Voss. You have been led to believe that of all the wrestlers in Brawlers on a Budget, HE is the one you should cheer. That is not so. And as he further insults your intelligence with lame asides, re-re-recycled catch-phrases and sound bites that wouldn't fill a supermodel's belly, you have to ask yourself... 'Why the hell am I cheering for THAT big DINK Justin Voss?' Then, I'll be happy to give you something you've not seen in YEARS of professional wrestling...

A CHAMPION that is WORTHY of the TITLE...

You're welcome... See you SOON.

Dennis:.....Right-o. Well, folks, this has been Dennis the Interviewer... On behalf of Brawlers on a Budget, let me say 'Good Night, and God Help Justin Voss...'

BQF:.... What the hell are you doing?

Dennis: I'm, uh, wrapping up.... The interview is over, right?

BQF: The SEGMENT ends with me saying 'You're Welcome'... Like it ALWAYS has for three years....

Dennis: Uh... Sorry, old chap, I'm a little out of the loop...

BQF: Well, we can fix that... C'mere....

Clive: Oh, I can't look.... (Camera points down)

Dennis: AAAAAAIIIIIEEE! For the love of GOD, NOoooooO! Someone call a CONSTABLE! AAAAAAaaaa!

BQF: You can look now... Heh.

[The camera comes into focus to see Dennis is nowhere in sight, as Bobo nails shut a big box marked 'London' with three stamps on it... The box DOESN'T have air-holes...]

Clive: That doesn't look like enough postage...

BQF: I know... But at least he'll be in the loop... The Postal Loop, I admit, but why be picky?

Clive: That is SO disturbing...

BQF: Heh. Remember, Dennis... Short breaths... CONSERVATION is the key to survival...

BQF: You're welcome... See you SOON.


A Near Deth Experience
Not the match we've been working up to

MA: Here is your winner.. BARBIE "THE BRIDE" BANNER!!

MM: What a hard-fought victory that was... Barbie slides out as SVT tries to figure out what just happened! Wait a minute.. Bobo's on the apron with his sock full of nickles! WHAM! He just K.O'ed Shutt! What's going on??

Bobo: Hey, Andrew... she's all yours.. You're welcome.

MM: Andrew can't believe his luck! He's carrying off the unconcious nun! And listen to the crowd cheering for Bobo! His ever-growing popularity has skyrocketed right there!

Justin Voss: HEY! I'm the face around here! Cheer ME! ME! ME! ME!

MM: Justin's snapped! He just grabbed Alex "St. Matthew with a Guitar" Smiths' guitar! BOOM! He blasts Bobo right over the head! Bobo is out! And the fans are stunned! They don't know whether to cheer or boo! Our main event just keeps hotting up!

SW: Two guitar shots in one night? Give me a break!

MM: You aint seen nothing yet, Scotty.. the "Nitro" record is three I think... I'm sure we can do better than that!

SW: Be still my beating heart.. Is it time for an intermission yet?

GBH: Duh. Yur. Hungry.

MM: You got it! We'll be right back with more action right after this!


Justin Jarrett, now?

[We cut to a locker room in Deth, Texas as Bobo Fiendish stews angrily on a bench with an ice-pack on his head. He sees the camera, and quickly tosses the ice over his shoulder as he puts on his 'game face'.]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Well, I know Voss is at the end of his rope now... Look, already planning a career in another fed with the guitar shots. Sadly, that assumes you're going to be able to wrestle for them after our match. Mayhap you can trot to Vinnie Mac and try on the 'Double J ' neon suit? Mayhap you can roll to Atlanta and get some 'stroke'? Mayhap you can roll to ECW and become PJ Walker's kid brother... Justin Competent? Heh. The fans are finally catching on that Justin Voss is a pitiful pansy, and are showing remarkable intelligence of late by cheering for the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED. This pleases me. Naturally, much like any other con man that finds he's not fooling the marks anymore, he panics, and a perfectly good guitar pays the price for his hubris...

Now, some old business... Allow me to congratulate you on your earlier ASTUTE choice of musical interlude... See, Bohemian Rhapsody is the story of a young man - not unlike yourself, that did something STUPID - ALSO not unlike yourself, and is now going to be put to DEATH for it - EXACTLY like YOURSELF. Now, I know the closer you get to our match the more desperate and irritable you seem to get. This pleases me. Of course, if you'd rather have the parting memories of those closest to you be in a bad light, who am I to judge? Heh. You assume much, Voss. First, you accuse me of actually SAVING your interviews for something besides birdcage lining, and THEN reposting them to make you look bad. It is to laugh. Voss, I ALREADY make you look bad. Every time I speak. And, more importantly, every time YOU speak. Such tactics are beneath me, and always will be.

You've got to ask yourselves... Does Voss really have a CHANCE? No, clearly not. I know it. YOU know it. And from the way Voss is acting lately, he's JUST starting to put together the same conclusion... Talk about slow on the uptake, eh? But what do you expect from someone that hires pugnacious dwarves with speech impediments so he can be both a good speaker and handsome by comparison? Someone who retains vacuous hookers from the roadside so he can be the brains of the group? Such a thing as this is more suited for a carnival shill than a the poor approximation of a wrestler he attempts to be. ....And that's just sad.

I can understand your concerns, really... In the awesome splendor that is the luminance of the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED, people will know you as the guy that REALLY goofed up signing this match. And when the match starts, people will know you as the guy that's doing all the screaming. Heh. Mind you, I can see that you're worried that after I use you for a mop to clean the ring of your blood, people will remember you as a mop. Allow me to be the first one to say that that will not happen. Why? BECAUSE NO ONE WILL REMEMBER YOU, PERIOD.

Look at the evidence, Voss... I'm taking over your spot. The fans are cheering for the HEEL. I bought your midget... The price? Nun, but I digress... Heh. And since nobody managed to capture the Barbie Bounty, I have several hundred bucks with which to buy your bimbos. Your world is collapsing, Voss... And soon your CHEST will MATCH it! The guitar shot was cute, kid, but it doesn't put you over as a dangerous anti-hero any more than it does Double J or the Honkytonk Man. Come to think of it, you have alot in common with them even BEFORE the El Kabong... None of you can match your own frantic hype without someone in the other corner following the SCRIPT... And by the way, I got the script your people sent... Makes for some fine kindling... Heh. Now, if only I had something to fry up... Oh, wait... I do. Or, more accurately, I WILL.

So, before you become a vague sense of deja vu for an old Morris Day video, let me remind you that there's no shame in losing to me... YOU are a measly speck of insignificance in the Grand Scheme, and it falls to me to see to it you learn your place in the world. And learn you SHALL. I PROMISE.

You're welcome... See you SOON.


A Near Deth Experience
Bobo Q. Fiendish vs. Justin Voss

MM: Ladies and gentlemen.. this is our Main Event of the evening.. and it is for the Pan-Galactic Championship! Introducing first.. we don't know his real name, we don't know where he comes from.. we're not even sure if 335 pounds is his real weight.. the "AYOOYFM" Champion.. BOBO FIENDISH!

(Extremely mixed reaction as Bobo is wheeled to the ring in a "Silencer of The Lambs" brand strait-jacket and mask combo. The Flunky deposits him in the roofed-caged ring, loosens the straps and runs away like all the demons of Hell are after him.)

MA: Anmd his opponent.. the man, the myth, the mmmmm-Swiss Army Champion.. The STEREOTYPED FACE.. JUSTINNN VOSS!

(Two cheerleaders run out, waving pom-poms and turning somersaults. They begin a chant of "Oh, Justin you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind, HEY JUSTIN!" They keep up this phrase until Justin appears at the head of the ramp. "If You're Happy and You Know It" cuts in, along with Eddie B's "Main Event Big Beat Tubbyboy Slender Scratch Mix". Big pop from the Justin marks, a few boo's from the Heel-lover fans. One kid even dares to bounce a paper cup off Justins head.. he's quickly ejected by BOB security.)

LilB: Our two main-eventers are in the ring.. and it's time to.. GET IT ON!

***Bell rings.. thanks to our minor celebrity timekeeper, ummm.. whats-his-name.. y'know.. he was in that commercial for Toyota.. or was it a Nike ad? No wait.. hang on, it'll come to me..

BigB: And this one is ON! Bobo pulls free of the last of those straps as Justin enters the "No Escape For You" roofed, padlocked, steel and chickenwire cage! A hideous, demonic structure that ate up half of our remaining "Full Court Press" profits! This better be worth it!

LilB: I'm sure it will.. Both men circling each other cautiously.. tie-up.. NOT! Forearm smash sends Justin reeling back.. kick to the guts doubles him over.. pickup into a powerbomb position.. Justin fires back with a flurry of piston-like right hands! Bobo crashes backwards, more out of surprise than anything! Justin straddles him and continues to pound away!

BigB: Voss has got to have a lot of guts to even step into this type of match! Bobo tosses him off and regains a vertical base!

LilB: Voss ricochets off the ropes.. big spinning heel kick! Bobo is knocked for a loop! He's up quickly and gets an inverted bulldog! Voss is on fire! He's going to the top.. Top-rope Legdrop! A cover!

Generic Ref: One.. two..

LilB: Kickout!

BigB: Dwayne, aren't you supposed to be IN the ring?

Generic Ref: With those two? Forget it! And I told you not to call me "Dwayne" anymore..

LilB: Justin goes up again.. his fans are really getting behind him! Bobo rises.. and catches Voss in mid-air for a bone-crushing powerbomb! Devastating! He pins.. The Generic Ref runs around to the other side of the cage to get a better angle.. Voss kicks out at two!

BigB: Oh, this is ridiculous.. I'm getting him in the ring..

LilB: You're leaving the broadcast position, BOSS?

BigB: Of course I am! Since when am I the color announcer? I have seniority here! I should have been the play-by-play man!

LilB: The BOSS is forcing the Generic Ref to open the cage and get inside.. did I just see The BOSS pocket the key? Something's brewing here... Inside the cage, Bobo has delivered an impressive one-handed gorilla press to Voss.. Voss is absorbing a huge amount of punishment! How much can he take? OOH! Face-first into the steel! Bobo moves in for the kill.. Voss spins.. leg sweep! Bobo gets two for the price of one as he's hotshotted on the top rope and smashes his head on the cage! And I believe... YES! He's been cut open above his left eye! Voss takes control as he targets that cut with blatant closed fist! Lowblow! The fans are surprised at Voss's tactics here! Voss chops Bobo hard... drives him back to the corner... He backs up and gets ready for a big dropkick.. BOBO CATCHES HIM!

SMACK!

LilB: THE HUMAN RUGBEATER! I never thought I'd see it! Too bad for Dwayne.. he was the nearest solid object! The Ref is out! This one is suddenly wide open! Bobo slings the now-bloody Justin Voss to the cage with authority! What's the BOSS doing? He's unlocked the cage.. he's getting in! Is he nuts?! Bobo and Justing trade uppercuts.. both men are battered and bloody! Justin lowblows the Hardcore champ! VOSS-FACTOR! He stunned Bobo with that one.. drags him to a corner..he's setting him up for the "Happy and You Know it"! The crowd begin to sing the song.. listen to them! The cheerleaders, Bunny and Sky encourage them! Here comes Justin for his unique version of the Bronco Buster... WHAT??? The BOSS yanked Bobo out of the way! Justin straddles the turnbuckle with ball-buckling velocity!

SW: YEAH! All right BOSS!

MM: What did we miss?

LilB: GOOD GRIEF! Bobo drags Justin off and sets him up for a piledriver.. right onto the BOSS's fabled TRIPLE-PADLOCKED-TITANIUM-MONEY-BELT!! A cover! The BOSS Counts 1-2-3!!!!! We have a new champion! And what a swerve! Even I never heard about this one!

MM: And I thought that Voss was going to do a heel turn!

SW: So did I! And I think, so did Voss! He can't believe it either!

LilB: Not after that little piece of corporate screwing! The fans are livid! But Bobo Fiendish is officially..

BigB: That's MY line.. the NEWWWWWWW "PAN-GALACTIC" CHAMPION.. BOBO FIENNNNDISH!


The Champion Speaks

[We cut to the locker room, where the Angel of Death Most Exalted is gathering up his gear - among which is the Pan-Galactic Championship Belt, and an icepack. He tosses the PGC Belt over his shoulder and examines the AYOOYFM Hardcore Belt around his waist. The camera zooms in and the boom mike picks up Bobo saying something to himself...]

BQF: This pleases me.

[Bobo then turns to see himself in the mirror, and he strikes a stunning 'Shoot the Moon' pose that shows his bristling musculature to great effect. He turns to the camera, and tosses the AYOOYFM belt over his shoulder like a candy wrapper as he fastens the PGC around his waist.]

BQF: Hello, my intended.

Well, here I am. The Pan-Galactic Champion. Interesting. Now, regarding the end of that match...

There I was... Sitting in the corner, lulling that big goof Voss into a false sense of security after 'playing up' that ridiculous Gen-X ripoff move... And here he was, getting ready to do that pathetic 'Bronco Buster' that the 1-2-3 Kid still uses as a Finisher, and he starts in on me... Now, there I was, waiting until the last second to bring up the big boot and save us all from future generations of Voss, and someone yanks me out of the way... Voss slams into the ringpost crotch first, so I suppose the effect was the same as I'd intended, and I pretty much dump him on his head for the win... Now, personally, a piledriver is hardly what anyone except Paul Orndorff would call a Finisher, and since he's got Alzheimer's he don't count. Just a little setup move for the astonishing bone-wrenching wave of offense that Voss was due for his hubris...

Here's the rub, though... I grab his leg for a nice ankle twist or knee wrench, and someone counts a three... Odd, I think, but the referee isn't known for his SAT scores, so I look to the side and there's the Big BOSS handing me the belt and raising my hand... Also odd, I think... So I took a look at the tape...

Lemme tell ya... This did NOT please me. Bobo Q. Fiendish does not win via swerve. He doesn't need to... There isn't a man-jack in this - or any OTHER promotion - that possesses the raw power, ring generalship, and martial prowess that raise the Angel of Death to his Most Exalted status. I prove this time and again as those that are too stupid to fear such as I get their heads handed to them, and everyone else runs for greener pastures. Niege-13? Ran away. Doc Plants? Jobbed a gimmick match to be SENT away. Voss? Well, he got his head handed to him, didn't he? Somehow, the Boss thinks that such as I should be rewarded for bringing the more difficult prima donnas to heel, and I'd normally agree... However, this...

[Bobo unbuckles the PGC and holds it in front of him.]

BQF: Is hardly what I would consider reward. I mean, really, it's 18-karat electroplate... In short:

Bobo Q. Fiendish will not accept this belt. Period.

Voss has shrieked and shrilled about this... injustice, and strange as it may seem, I have to agree with him. Voss couldn't beat me on his best day - with all four of his friends - if I had the flu, and we all know it. This belt suggests otherwise, and for that reason I will not - CAN NOT - accept it. Give it to Voss if you want... Burn it if you want... When I choose to take it away from him, precious little in his repetoire will dissuade me. He hits like a girl. Or, more to the point, like all the OTHER girls. But I digress...

[Bobo drops the PGC on the floor and then picks up the AYOOYFM belt and puts it on.]

BQF: THIS is my belt. I EARNED it. More to the point, it's FAR better descriptive of the champion that wears it...

Now to business... It seems that Doc Plants has crawled back into his part-timer position, and has further chosen to align himself with Chow Min and Booze Kelly. This pleases me. Some folks might wonder why the good doc did such a strange thing, but it's clear enough upon reflection. After all, if I said the sort of things to Bobo Quite Fiendish that the Doc did before his banishment, I'd look for all the friends I could get when I came back, too...

However, I note that there is precious little voice possessed by the others in the locker rooms - the chaff, as it were, but I digress - and the powers that be are at a loss to understand their thunderous silence. Allow me to enlighten you... Were it anyone BUT the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED girded by that Pan-Galactic Belt, there would be scrambling amongst these lesser beings to vie for it. Sadly, since it IS the TRUE Dark Angel that is so bedecked, and so honored AFTER annihilating what was considered the best - if not brightest - this fed had... Well, you can't expect alot of volunteers for a suicide mission, can you? No, clearly not...

So what does that leave you? A champion nobody is foolish or deluded enough to think they have a lottery-level chance against. A Swiss Army Belt, and this ludicrous Pan-Galactic rubbish... Sure, some people try and puff up and make noise and whatnot, but it's all vanity... Your troops are demoralized, Boss... THEY know they can't beat me. I always knew they couldn't beat me. The only one that seems fuzzy on the issue is you... Why? Even the lowbrows and mugwhumps in the STANDS know that there is no equal for the horrifying splendor that is... The Angel... of DEATH... MOST EXALTED. Listen to them when I come down the aisle once in a while... I get more cheers than your Super-Face - much to his guitar swinging chagrin, I add, but deign to digress...

[Bobo picks up the Famous Sock-o-Swag and twirls it non-chalantly.]

BQF: Now, some in the offices might think that this is wrong... This pleases me. Mayhap the powers that be will grow pensive regarding the dawning ramifications of opening one's doors to such as I... Possibly even seek to retake their 'power' through force...? Well, the sad truth is that such people who are used to things going as planned are reluctant to even seemingly relinquish their power. In short, they fear change... And with good reason...

[Bobo brings the Famous Sock-o-Swag down on a stack of cinderblocks, and they shatter into dust under the apocalyptic force of the dreaded calf-high three-striper. Bobo then turns the sock upside down, spilling an eclectic grab bag of assorted coins onto the rubble.]

BQF: Change can be painful... Heh.

Consider notice served that any attempt at reprisal for refusing this belt will be met with a belt of a much more drastic nature... Tell you what... Since nobody in their right mind will face me, let's have a tourney. Top seed, let's see... Since Voss ALMOST won, we'll toss him a bone and give him Number One... Who's Number Two? Easy. The man whose very existence makes you think nothing BUT Number Two... Dr. Plants. Number Three? Hmm... I guess Viet Enarian or whatever the hell his name is will do, considering he's an ex-champ who was beaten by both the top seeds... Number four? Hmmm... Roster's lookinga a skosh thin here, so I'll take a shot in the dark and give Number Four to Paddy O'Furniture... Everyone else can bicker about where they stand from five to ten - assuming they've not already fled to someplace safer by comparison... Say, Libya, for instance... Heh.

Now, Boss, we can play this one of two ways... You can have Cooperation, or you can have Opposition. Cooperation will mean I won't do my level best to turn whatever meatbag you toss into the ring with me into a thick, red paste... Opposition will mean that the next place you lead this ragtag mob will be from the front of the Wheelchair Convoy. Hope you make the right decision...

[The phone rings, and Bobo seems surprised. He walks over to the phone and picks it up.]

BQF: Hello, my intended....

Ah, Big BOSS... Glad you called... Nice bit about 'spending half the profits' on stuff I brought with me from home. Nah, go ahead, you could use the deductions - as long as you cut me in on the profits. Deal. What? Dressing rooms bugged are they? I see. Come again? Don't wanna do the Angry Solitary Fighter of the Brass bit, huh? I disagree... No, it's not played out, it's just been mishandled big time... Yes, I can carry it. Oh, come on... I made people think Voss had a chance to win, didn't I? I should get an Oscar for putting that weakling over like I did... I mean, he hits like a wet noodle in a steamroom - and that's with a run-up... No, I haven't heard... Come again?

Voss said what? He what? Well, I'll just trot over and twist his head off then... No, huh? Lotsa heat having Voss hate the both of us, you say? I dunno, he's no Steve Borden... Fine. Okay, we'll try it your way... But I still don't like having that punk mouth off when he couldn't back it up on a Playstation. No, I won't just trust you... I could smash that Smilin' Moron with one-hand tied behind my back, and use his midget for a mop to clean up the mess any day of the week and twice on Sundays, and it doesn't sit well pretending otherwise... Alright then... Fine. Yeah, I guess I can do that... Suuuure. Doc Plants has an ass-whippin ' on order anyway... No, no problem, I can carry them... Just run 'em through a car-wash or something first, okay? Yes, I have smelled worse in prison, but I'm not THERE anymore, and don't like reminders... Deal.

[Bobo takes off the AYOOYFM belt again and puts the PGC belt back on.]

Oh yeah, picked out who should get the Hardcore Title, yet? No, not HIM. Gimme a break, that's lamer than Screamin' Norman... Oh, okay, I'll send it over to you with the Turtle Wax for my 'partners', but I think it's a mistake. Okay, then...

You're welcome... See you SOON.


NAGAM 5
Bobo Q. Fiendish vs. Blackjack Hooligan

SW: Ummm, that sounds good. Hey, it's main event time! Blackjack Hooligan of The Unethical Ethnic Alliance put in his bid to unseat Bobo Fiendish for his newly won Pan-Galactic title.

MM: This will be a war, Scotty...and please try to be a little more fair with the commentary.

SW: Oh yeah, like I'm really going to cheer for Hooligan with Bobo out here...

MA: Ladies and Gentlemen...THIS IS YOUR MAIN EVENT! It is for the Pan-Galactic title! First, the challenger...from the Unlucky Clover Ranch in Ireland. A member of The Unetical Ethnic Alliance...BLACKJACK HOOOOOOOLIGAN!

(Eddie B. scratches up a tornado on Hooligan's "Limestone Cowboy" remake of Glenn Campbell's "Rhinestone Cowboy". The husky Irish cowboy slowly strolls to the ring guzzling a "Creamy J's An' Chit" 40 ounce. He slups down the last few drops and wipes his chin before getting in the ring to a landslide of jeers.)

MA: His opponent...(massive pop)from...(increased pop)...weighing in at... (decibel level reaching airplane engine status)...The Pan-Gal...(you get the picture...louder pop) BOBOOOOOOOOOOoooooo(gigantic super dope phat crazy mad pop)

(Eddie B. takes the night off, nobody would hear the intro music anyway...)

MM: WOW! What a response by these fans! I didn't know a couple hundred people could get THAT loud...

SW: For once, Mike...I'll have to agree with you on that one. We should just start calling him Fiendberg...

MM: I don't think that'd be a good idea.. Bobo is in the ring...Blackjack started things off quickly with a forearm before the bell! Bobo fires back...another...another...staggers the rowdy cowboy!

GBH: Duh.

MM: Nice to have you still with us, GBH!

SW: Bobo setting up Blackjack for the ride...reversal by Hooligan...ducks for a backdrop...NOOOO! BOBO HOOKS THE FAREWELL TO THE FLESH! NOOOOOO!

MM: WAIT! Here comes somebody down the ramp like a bat out of hell! He slides under the bottom rope...IT'S SILACONNE M. PLANTS!

SW: YEAH BABY! I mean...like, whatever. SMP with a shot to the back of Bobo! Bobo turns unfazed and wraps that massive hand around the plastic surgeon's neck! SMP begging off! Bobo giving the sign for a chokeslam! NOOOO!

MM: Viet Kong and "Charlie" quickly down the ramp now! Bobo tosses the doctor aside and hooks up with Kong as the big Asian slides into the ring. "Charlie" wise to stay on the outside and direct traffic. Bobo with a right hand to Kong. Kong fires back but Fiendish shrugs it off. Blackjack up and knees Bobo in the small of the back. SMP now joining in as Bobo slumps to a knee and Kong and Hooligan hold Bobo by his outstretched arms as SMP fires away with right hands to Bobo's head.

SW: The bell ringer is going nuts! Looks like a DQ here! NOW LOOK! It's STWF legend and teammate of SMP's in that fed....HOMICIDAL HANK! HAs he gone Alliance, too?!

MM: I don't think so, Scotty...Hank isn't too Ethnic. Maybe he's just trying to break this thing up. He and SMP go way back, you know? Let's check with the "Takes You To The Action" mic! Hank's in the ring...

---click

SMP: "Did you wear the protective cup?

Hank:"Yeah, go for it."

---click

SW: Turn that off! OHHHHH! SMP JUST BENEDICT ARNOLDED HANK! LOWBLOW! Double underhooks Hank's arms! HANK "JUST GOT PLANTED" by SMP's double arm DDT! SMP putting the boots to Hank! Kong and Hooligan double teaming the champ!

MM: Here come The Inbreds again! The numbers are even now! The Unethical Ethnic Alliance have cleared the ring as Cousin Pa and Uncle Junior slide in. Listen to these boos as The Ethnics head back to the dressing room. Cousin Pa and Uncle Junior checking on the condition of Bobo and Hank. I can see BigBOSS chomping at the bit to sign these eight men to a match soon!

MA: Ladies and gentlemen...the winner, by disqualification...and STILL! THE PAN-GALACTIC CHAMPION! BOBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Q. FIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENDISH!


Eight HATE is Enough

[We see Bobo Fiendish going over the 'tentative' card, and he seems somewhat bemused by it... He twirls the Infamous Sock-o'-Swag as he considers the card, and then brings it down sharply with a thunderous slam. He leaps to his feet as he starts twirling the sock afresh...]

BQF: Hello, my intended...

Well, well, well... Seems I'm to be part of an eight man scramble... This pleases me. As I proved at Full Court Press, no matter HOW piteous my ersatz comrades, the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED shall prove more than mighty enough to dispatch these that foolishly consider themselves worthy of being in the same VENUE as such as I. First, let us consider what the Boss has saddled me with THIS time...

Homicidal Hank. Ah, a crazy... With a murder bent, as well, if his name is any indication. Fine. It's nice to see that I can help such a lout understand how a Psycho-Killer is SUPPOSED to act, and send him packed with knowledge back to whatever back-alley indy fed he sneaked out of to learn at the feet of the Man, the Myth, the MONSTER that is Bobo Quite Fiendish. This pleases me. I'm always happy to help the lesser creatures improve themselves... Heh.

The Amazin' Inbreds. ......Must.... Not... Laugh.... Cousin Junior and Uncle Pa are without a doubt from so far back in the hills that after seeing the likes of Hillbilly Jim and Uncle Elmer during the Rock and Wrestling Era, they left immediately to seek their fortunes in 'rasslin' - and are just getting here NOW. Talk about a country mile, eh? Heh. No matter, even such two-legged pig-sloppers as these shall achieve victory when firmly grasping the coattails of the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED. What's that old saying? Hitch your wagon to a STAR? Fine.

This leads, inevitably, to what those in the know call the 'jobbers'... We already know that Doc Plants couldn't lead ants to a picnic, and wrestles about as skillfully as Grover from Sesame Street - and that may be giving him too much credit, since Grover can turn into Super Grover and be less pathetic. Doc, I hope you've got a new face picked out because I don't think there's going to be enough of your OLD ONE LEFT to reconstruct. You've got a harsh lesson coming, and if you think the likes of your buddies are enough to protect you then you've got TWO harsh lessons coming. Study up, because I teach a HELL of a CRASH COURSE in knowing your PLACE.

Behind him are the unlikely trio that form Chollie's Angle. Heh. Normally, one could say that the team of Patty O'Furniture and Sum Dum Goi - under the adroit tutelage and direction of Mr. Chow Min - could rise to the top ranking... Sure, it'd be a LIE, but one could SAY it.

When I consider the only other Tag Teams are the Fabulous Bleeders and One and a Half Inc., I realize the truth... Contemptible Ethnic Reliance, or whatever you try to call yourself in the King's English, couldn't be considered the top ranking at anything but odor. We've got some moron with Lee Press-On Fingers with a Full Nelson for a FINISHER? It is to laugh. His partner is just some drunk brawler who couldn't make the A List with divine intervention and all the Lucky Charms IN General Mills. And this little pea-pickin' weasel manager whose prior wrestling experience consists of squashing some midget in a rubber suit with the fat can of the Generic Ref? And they face a team that Bobo Fiendish is part of? Doesn't look good, does it? No, clearly not.

So, what does that mean? Well, since the Bad Accent Squad has slighted the Inbreds; their manager annoys everyone, so I guess Hank hates him; and Doc Plants still holds that marker for a Damn Fine Beating courtesy of the Angel of Death Most Exalted. On the other side, The Bad Accent Squad is eager to show they're a worthy tag team... Doc Plants is eager to 'stop' the juggernaut that is Bobo's Wild Ride... And Chollie is just there to make four. Presumably, all that hate and intense drama will generate some heat to accompany the mayhem. Let's give the fans a nice match to make up for the PITIFUL undercard, and maybe they won't ask for ALL their money back... Good idea.

To my comrades for this match, I say this... If you do EXACTLY as you're told, you will have a nice little check in your victory column... If you DON"T, you'll have a nice little check in at the HOSPITAL. Simple, isn't it? Spiffy.

You're welcome. See you SOON.


Monday Morning Mayhem 9
Bobo Q. Fiendish vs. Lord Lestat Von Sexbat

MA: Ladies and gentlemen... This is our MAIN EVENT! And it is for the Pan-Galactic Championship! Introducing first, from Parts Unadmitted... weighing in at.. oh, why am I even bothering? The poor guy's going to get killed!! *cough*.. LORD LESTAT VON SEXBAT!

("Black Planet" plays as Lord Sexbat appears with his succubi in tow. Boos a-plenty from the loyal BOB fnas. Eddie B. switches CD's halfway down the aisle, meaning Lord Sexbat actually enters to a Funeral March. ("Eddie B's Funky "We All Gonna Die" House Mix") The BOB fans begin a "YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!" chant. Lord Sexbats succubi take one look down the aisle and scatter like chickens.)

MA: Introducing at this time, weighing in a 335 pounds of homicidal intensity... currently charging the ring... BOBO F-AWWK!

MM: The Masked Announcer dives for saftey as Bobo hits the ring! Lord Sexbat is driven back with a flurry of punches! Whip to the ropes... Huge clothesline knocks Sexbat for a loop! Bobo is looking better than ever!

SW: Don't kill him yet, Bobo! He's under contract! OOH! That was nasty! Sexbat is going to regret signin.. WHOA! What is that? I never knew the body could bend like.. OH!

GBH: Hur hur hur! Hurty hurty hurty! Yur!

MM: I can hardly describe what we're seeing, folks! Bobo is.. Oh, that's disgusting! Lord Sexbat is putting up a game fight...

SW: You mean, because he isn't dead yet? For the love of Gorrilla Monsoon, is that legal? Or physcally possible?

(There has been extended crowdsots during most of this match. We cut back to the ring as Bobo powerbombs Lord Sexbat onto a collection of sporting goods he'd assembled in the ring. Half a ski flies into the crowd.)

MM: This is just a plain, simple beatdown! Lord Sexbat has had no opportunities for any offense whatsoever! Big Samoan drop! Sexbat is a puddle on the mat!

SW: Bobo's making the sign for the "Farewell to the Flesh'! This could be the quickest title defense ever!

MM: And Lord Sexbat might have the quickest career in pro-wrestling! Bobo hauls Sexbat to his feet...

(A single trumpet abrubtly starts playing "The Ride of the Valkyries" as a spotlight switches on.)

SW: Holy Crap! Look! Up in the rafters! It's Kamikazie Ken! What's that lunatic doing?

MM: He's holding a component mini-disk player... LOOK OUT BELOW! A KEN-TON BOMB! Sexbat ducks and covers...

SMASHHH!!

MM: And Bobo has been WIPED OUT!! So has Ken, who practically drilled himself into the mat! Lord Sexbat crawls over to Bobo and drapes an arm over him... the Generic Ref counts.. ONE! TWO! THREE!

SW: You gotta be kidding me! You can't be serious! Lord Sexbat!!??

MA: *Ahem*... Ladies and Gentlemen.. here is your winner.. and, somehow, your NEWWWWWW Pan-Galactic Champion... LORRRRD SEXXXBAT!

MM: What an upset! This crowd is in shock!

SW: They're not the only ones! What the hell was Ken thinking? Dennis, talk to the man!

Dennis: Right-o! Ken, old chap... you just cost Bobo Fiendish his title.. a bit silly, eh what?

Ken: Wha'? Bobo? I was aiming for Sexbat... stupid mask slipped... ow..

THUMP!

MM: OH! Bobo has recovered enough to flatten the still-dazed Kamikazie Ken! A huge brawl erupts between those two as the locker room empties! All of our superstars... well, the heel superstars anyway... have hit the ring to congratulate our new Pan-Galactic champion! And we're out of time, so for Scotty Whatbody and GBH, I'm Mike Monroe saying, we'll see you on Thursday.. COAST-TO-COAST!


© 2003 BOB Wrestling and some other years in here. You knew the tribute had to end with this embarrassment. Didn't you?

 

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