Brawlers On a Budget > Episodes > 2003 > BaseBrawl (Part 2)
We're Just Itching To Get This Over
[A baseball slowly comes toward the screen and breaks it.]
[We cut to Cloudydale College in Cloudydale, Connecticut. The 5,000-seat capacity stadium is filled to the brim with people who paid for tickets, families and friends of the wrestlers (got in free) and the rest are video-game like filler. How can we afford that, you ask? Well, because I said so! Alright then. Let's go to the press box.]
Styles: Hello everyone, and welcome back, to Cloudydalllllllllle, Connecticut! I'm Mikey Styles...
Scotty Whatbody: Hey, aren't you supposed to be in the match today?
Styles: OH MY GOD! You're right!
[He runs out of the announcers booth.]
Scotty: Welcome and all that crap. Scotty Whatbody here with Mike Monroe and...who the hell are you?
Dr. Azathoth: I am known by a thousand different names on a thousand different worlds. But the men of this planet know me as… Dr. Azathoth! Attention, pathetic Earth wrestlers! It is once again I, Dr. Azathoth, contacting you to say that I fear none of you! Not even Death himself!
SW: Write a book, why don't you?
Mike Monroe: Aren't you associated with Atomo The Robot? That new character.
SW: A new guy? The lazy BigBOSS hasn't put him on the roster page.
Dr. A: Today, I shall watch those people who are soon to become my mortal enemies… The wrestlers of BOB! Be destroyed by Atomo!
SW: Nice, a wrestling robot. That's new.
MM: W--
Dr. A: Rather then send Atomo to destroy the Earth’s armies, I have sent him to decimate your planets greatest warriors, thus demoralizing your people to the point where they will not resist me! That's why I have brought Atomo to BOB! To participate in the tournament of Earth’s greatest warriors!
SW: Greatest warriors? So, why are you in BOB then?
MM: Well, let's get this thing underway. Atomo is in the stadium, just in case anything goes wrong, as is Sir Hungalot...and...wait a second. I understand we're going to go to a pre-taped segment?
[Yep. Here it is.]
MM: That looks like Bohemoth.
SW: Yeah, it is hard to tell since his entire body can't fit into any camera. And surprise, surprise, he's going to the vending machine.
MM: I wonder what he's getting?
SW: Probably an apple pie, Twinkies, a brownie, a few candy bars, some popcorn...
MM: That's quite enough. You know he can't afford that on his BOB salary. It's a glandular problem.
SW: Are you serious? Bohemoth already ate his glands, from what I hear from my sources.
MM: What sources?
SW: Hey look. Next to the machine, isn't that Festering Death?
MM: It is. I wonder what they're doing there.
=<>: LOOK AT THAT FAT FUCK!
=C]: HE IS ONE FAT FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER!
=<>: IF WE KILLED THAT FAT FUCKING MOTHERFUCKING FAT FUCKER IT'D TAKE US DAYS.
=C]: HEY YOU FAT MOTHERFUCKING MOTHERFUCKER WITH THE BIG FAT FUCKING TITTIES.
MM: Oh no! Bohemoth just sat down on the smilies!
SW: That could be fatal!
*Muffled sounds of rapeage and stabbage from beneath Bo.*
MM: What a start to this morning. This should be a show to remember.
SW: So, Atomo and The Big Sir are going to be involved in the battle royal? And now, here we are about two or three weeks later and they still haven't delivered the ring?
MM: Apparently the truck that was hauling the ring was carjacked by the Outrageous Granny Gang of Oklahoma. That poor truck driver was beaten to death with canes and walkers and run over repeatedly with what police call, a wheelchair.
SW: *Sigh* Whatever. I hope some chick in the crowd flashes. WooHOO!
[Cut to an overweight 20-something. She stands up and puts her back to the camera and so Scotty can see.]
SW: Holy hell! I'm blind! I'm SO blind!
MM: Monica?
SW: No! That was your sister?
MM: Looks like she put on a few pounds.
SW: And some nipple rings.
MM: That was just, odd.
SW: Oh, man, you better not have gotten horny for your sister!
MM: No way, man. *Ahem*.
Help, Part 1
[We cut to inside the college, to the counselor's office, to be exact. It is there where Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" is. She files her nails and looks nervously around the room. Her job as counselor is about to begin. The job the principal gave her a few shows ago. Then, in walks Candy Cantaloupes.]
Sarah: Hey, I'm here to listen and help, and I'll try not to laugh.
Candy: Cool. My name is Candy. And I can't help feeling that the writers are just putting my name in here to get Web hits.
Sarah: I see.
[It's gonna be a montage. You've been warned. And then there was J.C. Long in the chair across from Sarah.]
JCL: Yo, yo, Me changing gimmicks is like Britney Spears changing her underwear. It's a big frickin' deal, everyone wants to be there. Everyone wants photos of J.C. and my John Hancock. But they gotta recognize I'm the most O.G. on the block! I smoke blunts and drinks 40s and have tons of sex. And all the ladies get juicy when all I do is flex. Hey, Sarah, I see you looking at me with the lust in your eye. I also see that you ain't banging no guy. So why don't you drop those panties and we can get it on. I'll bang you like crazy and sing you a nice, hardcore song!
[So, now we head to Stinkbutt Nastyass' meeting with Sarah.]
SN: It's just, check bounced. So I punched the mailman. But then he beat me up. And I farted like crazy. And he passed out and I got arrested. So I couldn't bail myself out. And I have no friends.
Sarah: Sorry, I zoned out there for a second. What seems to be the problem?
[Stinkbutt sighed loudly. We cut to Urine.]
Urine: Well let me tell you something, sister. My milk went sour, mother. And I've just been so lazy, chick, and unmotivated I've been drinking it, girl. Chunky milk is not cool, sister! Especially not on the way back out! It's kidney stones, girl!
Baseball Diamond Battle Royal
[The following people are scattered around the field as we return there: Atomo The Living Robot: AYOOYFM Title Belt; Billy Polar; Brandon; BVD; Clinton; Coma; The Commentator; Detached Narrator; douja; Dustbuster Boy; Hooker T; Insano Mano; Kamikazie Ken; Kay Fabe; Khan; Little Good; Massive Man Rendition First; Mr. X; Mully; Nixon; Nurse Heidi; Pope John Paul II; Sarah The Jobber Slayer; Sir Hungalot; Steve Studnuts; Stone Hot Steve Dawson; StreetMime II; Styles; Super Mollusc; Violent Pacifist; Xamfir.]
Dr. A: Heheheh. Pathetic fool! Prepare to witness the might of… ATOMO, THE LIVING ROBOT!
SW: Isn't that just a skinny person painted silver?
Dr. A: Normally the great and powerful Dr. Azathoth would never lower himself to ingesting the drivel that you humans so humorously refer to as "culture"…
MM: And there is Sir Hungalot. As the rest file out, remember fans, this is for the vacant ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! 15 people will be eliminated to get us down to our two baseball teams that will be comprised of nine wrestlers.
SW: I can't wait to see who is pitching and who is catching. Bwahahaha.
MM: It's time for the Battle Royale With Cheese!
Khan: Mrgh! Cheese!
PA Announcer: Would Sarah "The Jobber Slayer", Kay Fabe and Xamfir please report the principal's office for their upcoming segments.
Xamfir: That son of a gun! He knew we were trying to win the title. He's evil, I tell you.
Sarah: Oh, relax, Xam, I'll win that title easy. Or help one of you win it.
Kay: Hey! We could win that title alone.
Sarah: Sure you could. Just like you could slay a jobber all by yourself.
Xamfir: It could happen. She has sharp nails.
Sarah: True. Hey, did anybody else notice the principal kind of looks like Steve Blackman.
Kay: Yeah, I did. If you see him with a kendo stick, it'll be confirmed.
Sarah: He really gives me the wiggins. Oh well, I guess he wants me to work. And to be honest, he pays me better than BOB does.
Xamfir: But, what is he principal of?
Sarah: I dunno.
Xamfir: And what's going on with the First Evil? From 64 down on 1, a new evil arises. That's lame even for BOB standards.
MM: OK, let's get this thing started already. It appears Kay Fabe, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" and Xamfir eliminated themselves.
SW: I wanted some DLA!
MM: DLA?
SW: You know, drunk lesbian action. I'll even spring for the beers!
MM: You know BOB's motto: when in doubt, have a battle royal to sort out things.
SW: I'd dare say we've had more battle royals in four years than anybody other in existence had. Pathetic. So very pathetic.
PA: Ding.
SW: Ugh We have to have people say 'ding.'
MM: Polar goes after Mollusc. And remember the rules fans. Once a wrestler is tossed out of the field and into the stands, he is eliminated. Throwing somebody into the dugout will get you nothing.
SW: Well, you may get injured from that.
MM: Oh boy, old rivalry renewed. Mr. X going after Mully and taking it to her. Slam on the grass.
SW: Studnuts grabs hold of his old foe, Styles. Goodbye, OH MY GOD man.
MM: Detached Narrator takes down Commentator with a clothesline. So strange to see him in the flesh.
SW: Indeed. Oh no! Look at this! Massive Man Rendition First just press slammed Pope John Paul II into the crowd! Another one down.
MM: The Catholics aren't going to like that.
SW: The Catholics screw children, do you think I care?
MM: You're going to get us thrown off the air someday.
SW: I've been trying for years. Haven't you noticed.
Dr. A: Though far superior to you in every way, I find that I still feel some small tinge of understanding towards that pathetic creature, Mike Monroe. Even with my myriad achievements in all fields of existence, I too have had difficulty with that enigmatic creature known to man as "woman".
MM: Say what?
SW: Yeah, Mike. Great job on the Jerry Stranger Show.
Dr. A: At one point, I had dedicated my astounding intellect to creating an artificial woman.
SW: Get back to it. Woohoo!
Dr. A: Taking inspiration from the greatest horny old scientists of Japan, I set out to create an android woman who would surpass all other humans in the arenas of strength, intelligence, typing speed, and, of course, beauty. Everything went terribly wrong. Nothing worked out the way I’d hoped… We parted ways, under horrible circumstances, and she still lurks out there… Who can know what horrible things she may even now be plotting?
SW: Hmm, I bet we could find her if we book you in a title match!
MM: Stop giving the bookers ideas.
SW: I just saw a mime flying.
MM: You're right. StreetMime II just got sent out by, Violent Pacifist. Everybody getting in on the eliminating here. Super Mollusc tossed out by Polar. It's getting close to the end.
SW: Look what Studnuts is doing! He's got Hooker T and Stone Hot Steve Dawson and pulling them into each other, over and over.
Studs: You blow, blow, blow, blooooooow! Who? You! You fucking blow, jerkweed!
MM: And there THEY go. Studs has eliminated three thus far.
SW: douja just tossed out Nixon. We're getting close to the end of this nondescript battle royal. Too many people just waiting around and trying to get a tan. Which is hard to do in Cloudydale.
MM: And Mr. X tosses Mully into the front row. Oh look at this. The Big Sir and Clinton are chatting about cigars. I don't want to get near that conversation.
SW: The fans are booing. What happened?
MM: Atomo the Robot eliminated Coma.
SW: Good. He would be an embarrassing OWCTM.
MM: Yeah, we've had some many good ones.
SW: Uh oh. Clinton must have just pissed off The Big Sir. I'm guessing it was about size.
MM: Could be. Clinton is out of here. And there goes Commentator. This farce is over!
SW: Yes!
Help, Part 2
[We headed to Sarah "The Jobber Slayer", who was getting mighty depressed by hearing about every BOBsters sadness over bounced checks, sour milk and the several other tedious troubles. She lifted her head off the desk as she heard somebody enter the Cloudydale counselor's office. ]
"hardkorr!11"
Sarah should have recognized him, but didn't. "What seems to be the trouble?"
"ey tienke im gunne di!!11"
"You're going to...you don't mean, commit suicide, do you? Because, you've got a lot to look forward to. Metriculating. Getting paid. Other goods like that."
"wlel, may-b, btu im kne wer!!11 im hardkorr!!11 & eym gunna dy!!11"
"You can't know that. Maybe I can help you," Sarah said with an attempt at a reassuring smile.
"ey donut ned hlep!!11 im 2 hardkorr 4 hlep!!11"
"Wait, you shouldn't go all upset like this! Your prophecy might come true! I can get weapons!"
"wat, sew u cen keel mi wit thme??/"
With Ken War gone, Sarah turned around and came face to face with Principal Evil Blackman. "Hey, that girl, er, guy, told me some incoherent badness is going to happen sometime."
"Oh, it's OK. I'm sure he's just confused. You can't rescue everybody. Lord knows you couldn't save that kid in Stamford two years and three months ago. But, I've been cryptic enough, I'll see you later."
He walks away. That's when Sarah saw Michelle walk by. God bless perfect timing.
"I need your help."
"As long as it doesn't involve a pie eating contest with Kay, I'm down."
So, we head to the Cloudydale Library. Sarah was afraid somebody was going to kill Ken War, so she sent Michelle on a fact-finding mission. As she entered the library, she heard a voice say buks r hardkorr!!11 Michelle walked around until she found the only two people in the library: Ken War and DovE.
"We should get matching tattoos. Of a big dragon breathing fire and torching people," DovE told him.
"torgodor!!111 brirunrninatin teh couentrysyd!!11"
"Hey, Ken, um, there's a dance coming up," DovE started. Yes, DovE was sitting with Ken War in that library. "I think you should go with me."
"ur nto hardkorr enuff fur teh kne wer!!11"
"Hey guys," Michelle greeted both boys.
"Hey, I've got to go, Ken. I'll see you later."
"I was in the fWEo with you for a little while. What you reading there? 'I'm Going To Die Soon?' Never read that one. I'm Michelle Gellar by the way," she said extending her hand out to Ken War.
"im kne wer, & ey em hardkorr!!11"
"DovE is a cutey," Michelle said, watching him leave. "You gonna do some hardcore stuff with him?"
"hardkorr!!11"
SEND US MONEY NOW FOR SEND US MONEY: COMAS SUPERWHACKYRUDABAGALAND EXTRAGONZAGA! Drop some acid...er....have a brew, hit the button on your box or make the call. If you don't, we'll all make fun of you. So SEND US MONEY and we won't show those pictures to the local authorities. Nurse Heidi or one of the other hot girls might lose their top. Why buy a copy of the tape from some guy when you can see possible live nudity.
Top Of The First
MM: Welcome back. The game is just about to get underway. Here are the lineups:
Harvard Damnits
1. Billy Polar (P)
2. douja (SS)
3. BVD (1B)
4. VP (2B)
5. Sir Hungalot (3B)
6. Kamikazie Ken (CF)
7. Dustbuster Boy (C)
8. Brandon (RF)
9. The AYOOYFM Title Belt (LF)
Team Joshitude
1. Massive Man (1B)
2. Detached Narrator (2B)
3. Steve Studnuts (SS)
4. Nurse Heidi (C)
5. Khan (RF)
6. Insano Mano (CF)
7. Little Good (LF)
8. Mr. X (P)
9. Atomo the robot (3B)
SW: This will probably be the worst game ever. Both teams are probably as bad as the Tampa Bay Devilrays.
MM: Nobody is THAT bad. OK, so the visiting team is the "bad" team, so that would mean team Joshitude is gonna start this game off. People have been assigned spots on the field. And here's the fun part. They have to stay in their position, no matter who gets eliminated. So, it could be a right-fielder left, and he'd have to pitch all the way from way back there.
SW: That's tremendous. Let's get this started. I need to go take a dump, sooner we get to the end of the inning, the better.
MM: Batting first for Team Joshitude is Massive Man Rendition First. Dustbuster Boy already talking smack to Massive Man.
Dustbuster Boy: Hey Josh. How are you?
MMR1: The name is Massive Man Rendition First.
DB: Oh, sorry, Josh. Didn't mean to make that mistake.
MMR1: Just shut up, and we'll get along amazingly.
MM: Massive Man gets in position.
DB: Say, do you know what the square root of 129 is? It's been stumping me all day.
MM: And Massive Man steps out of the box. We're breaking ground. Uncensored banter between players.
SW: Where's Shill to tell us, WE MUST BE WATCHING BOB! THE GREATEST BASEBRAWL IN THE HISTORY OF BASEBRAWLS.
MMR1: Will everyone just SHUT UP!
SW: BWAhahaha. Two seconds in and he's a temperamental baseball player. And a poor one at that.
MM: Polar ready to throw the first pitch.
BP: Josh, just remember, I was the star pitcher of Harvard's baseball team, damnit! You've been warned.
MM: And there's the first pitch.
Generic Ump: Strike!
SW: Hey! Dustbuster Boy just punched Massive Man in the knee cap.
MM: That's allowable under the rules. If one team gains an advantage, they get to hit people with some sort of moves. Except for strikes and balls, which can only be punches or kicks.
SW: Kicks, to the balls?
MM: If they want.
SW: We're gonna make some outies, innies tonight.
MM: That's disgusting, Scotty. And that's belly-buttons.
SW: You've never heard of a guy with testicles inside of his body?
MM: Moving on. Here comes the second pitch.
CRACK
MM: A hit? Wow. A line drive right up third base! OH MAN, great dive by Sir Hungalot! He gets up on his knees and what a throw to first base. BVD makes the out.
SW: Uh-oh. But Sir Hungalot is down on the dirt. The star of the brand new films, Womb Raider II, Ass Pirates of the Caribbean and American Bedding is clutching at his crotch.
MM: You've been doing some viewing?
SW: Nothing better than a Sir Hungalot movie on a night at about 2 a.m. when the cable is out.
MM: BVD going towards Massive Man. Oh baby, dropkick to the knee. That's gonna hinder Massive Man later on tonight. One out, none on as Detached Narrator makes his way to the plate. Hmm...he looks a bit like Sammy Sosa at the moment, isn't that odd.
SW: Who cares. I want to see Nurse Heidi in that tight uniform. Woohoo! I'd love to get to third base with her.
MM: And there's number one of the predictable double entendres for the morning.
SW: Sir Hungalot is at third base, a place I'm sure his fingers are quite familiar with, but he's hurting. But he's a trooper. He isn't going to let a little groin pull hurt him.
MM: Little?
SW: Oh man, you're right. That could be FATAL for the Big Sir.
MM: Polar with the pitch. Swung on.
CRACK
SW: Detached Narrator got himself a homer.
MM: And with that, as he comes around to home base, Team Joshitude takes the lead, 1-0. Which means Detached Narrator gets to choose who gets eliminated from the other team.
DN: It does? REALLY? If I pissed on your heads what color would the sky be? Anyhow. I'm eliminating....the ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FRICKIN' MIND HARDCORE TITLE BELT! MWAHAHAH!
MM: The crowd is booing like crazy over that. The left-fielder is walked off by his good buddy Kamikazie Ken.
KK: I'll get him for you, buddy. Don't worry. Just take it easy and enjoy the rest of the game.
AYOOYFMTB: ...
MM: And with that, Steve Studnuts comes to the plate.
SW: He knows a lot about swinging a bat. Usually it's with a lady, but tonight it's a little bit different.
MM: Polar with the first pitch. Ball.
Studnuts: Jerkweed.
MM: And Studnuts just hit a homerun shot on the Next Big Thingee!
Crowd: Bullllllshiiiiiiit.
MM: Studnuts covers! One. Two. Three! Good lord! Team Joshitude is up 2-0 in the top of the first. Dustbuster Boy and the AYOOYFM belt, gone.
SW: And Studs is ahead in the count. What is the Generic Ump doing?
MM: It looks like he's putting safety glass up in front of himself so the balls don't hit him.
SW: I hear he's used to getting balls across his nose.
MM: Scotty! Polar's looking a bit concerned. And here comes the throw. Swung on and missed. Uh-oh! Here comes Polar with a hurraconrana! Studnuts is back up, but a little dizzy as Polar returns to the mound. Studs steps into the box. There's the next pitch. Swung on and missed!
SW: Ahh, crap. And here comes the Great White Luchadore. Spinning heel kick. Studs is down. One, two, shoulder up. But look, he got Studnuts all dusty.
MM: Yeah, that's rough. Polar back to the mound. Studnuts balancing himself with the bat. Here comes the pitch. Strike three! Studnuts is out. Two outs for Team Harvard. And here comes Polar again for another move, which he has earned. Sunset flip! One! Two! TH-kickout. So very close.
SW: Studnuts can last all night long. Connie told me that.
MM: Connie Lingus?
SW: Yep. And now, YES! It's Nurse Heidi! OH MY GOD! Look at that outfit! Look at her ass! Look at it, Mike!
MM: I've never seen a baseball jersey worn like that. She's got that tied around her lovely upper womanly area.
SW: Her boobies! Oh, second base has never looked better!
BP: Hello, you skanky fake Heidi.
NH: My sister should have never lowered herself to your level.
SW: And here comes the pitch!
Crowd: *GASP*
SW: WOOHOO! He hit her in the BREASTS! I bet her breasts will swell and become the biggest boobs in the world!
MM: Thank you for visiting BOB, Web surfers!
SW: Heidi's going to first base. Has anyone on this field not been to first base with Heidi?
[Everyone looks around at each other in humorous, we-all-have, way.]
MM: But wait, she's going to hit a move on Polar. Nurseacanrana! Oh man, and she made Billy do the one thing he hates most.
SW: Smell tuna?
MM: ...
SW: Smell tuna!
MM: Khan now coming to bat. Polar blowing snot out of his nose. Way to treat the uniform with respect.
SW: Instead of giving US money, they buy baseball uniforms. That make any kind of sense at all?
MM: Corporate, er, non-corporate stinginess at work. Polar with the throw.
Generic Ump: Strike.
SW: Khan swings! Oh, he misses by a mile. I guess Khan is the sort of idiot you hit his knee with a hammer and he punches you two minutes later.
MM: Hit *my* knee, Scotty.
SW: I'm not putting my hand on your knee. And I'm sure as hell not putting my hand on Dr. Azathoth's knee either. Now meenage a twah stuff going on up here.
MM: Polar, ready to toss another pitch. Throw to first! BVD catches it. Heidi doesn't move! BVD tags her. She's out! Third out of the inning! BVD grabs Heidi. Here comes Polar! He's repeatedly jamming his crotch into her face!
SW: Oh, I wish I was Polar right now. Crotch-o-mania is running wild, and the fans are loving it. And so am I! OK, gotta go drop the kids off at the pool.
MM: We head to the bottom of the first.
Help, Part 3
[So, let's head now to a computer lab somewhere else in the college. There, the Shaggy Gang, minus Michelle and Styles, is huddled around a computer. Oddly enough.]
Sarah: Let's google Ken.
Kay: Hello, gay here.
Sarah: Sorry, not google, Google. As in a Web search. You know, like looking up Kobe Bryant or upskirts cams or Britney Spears's nipple.
Kay: I'm sure I can find just about everything on Ken War there is. Let's see...usually they all pop up first for the sake of convenience to time considerations. School records. Explosive diarrhea. Explosive urinating. Exploding lungs. Ewwww. They say he was good until, well, he developed apathy and several incurable diseases.
Sarah: I'll pretend you didn't just use the words apathy, incurable and disorder in the same sentence.
Xamfir: She used disease.
Sarah: OK then.
Kay: Let's see, what else...Man, a lot of German results. You think he's German?
Sarah: That could explain his accent.
Kay: Oh, score! Look at this! A personal Web site.
Xamfir: Does anyone *not* have a Web site anymore, besides me?
Sarah: What is that? Poetry?
o grate flyeng fesh
u meke soch ay lvoeuely desh
btu ey coldnt fine ne @ teh sture
sew ey screemed "hardkorr!!11"
ey het teh maengear wit mi splaeaeeneeen
& kecked ovr en uld wumen sew shde screem
den ey plulueld oet mi berbed wyre 4x2
& ey sed 2 dem "stup trayin 2 b hardkorr, ur ey'll het u wit mi sohe!!11"
Sarah: You know what I think? I think this is all the work of a group of people who want to kidnap her and use her as a sacrifice having something to do with world domination.
Xamfir: What makes you think that?
Kay: We were reading ahead while you were in the bathroom.
Bottom Of The First
MM: And welcome back. We're just about to get this game back underway. Mr. X getting ready to pitch to Billy Polar. This should be...
SW: Why did you trail off?
MM: Thinking of an appropriate lie.
SW: Where is Shill when you need him. Hopefully at the bottom of the lake!
MM: Nurse Heidi giving Mr. X the signal for what pitch to throw.
Mr. X: Ay, yo, what's dat?
Nurse Heidi: What do you mean? It means throw the ball!
Mr. X: Ball?
SW: Hehehe, I thought she was just playing with herself. WooHOO!
Nurse Heidi: The thing you're holding in your hand...No, your OTHER hand. *Sigh* Hey, remember that talk we had?
Mr. X: Talk? What's a talk?
NH: (Brief pause.) Say, doesn't this umpire look like an FBI agent?
Mr. X: Mudda--
MM: And there is the first pitch to Polar. Way high. Ball one.
SW: Baseball really is boring, isn't it, Mike?
Voice: Beeeeeeeeeear! Get ya beeeear heeeeare!
SW: Things are looking up. BEER MAN!
MM: Polar heading toward the pitcher's mound. Eye poke! That's luchadoretastic!
Beer Man: Scotty, as you prepare to down the cool, fluffy taste of that Verizontal Wired Beer.
SW: A what?
Beer Man: Think about the men who sweated and bled to produce that beer.
SW: Crap, maybe I don't want it now.
Beer Man: Ah, for you see, the blood and sweat aren't in the beer. But you can taste the dedication, in the foam and nectar and honey and hops and barely and the heaping amounts of alcohol. Try out beer once, and our phones, and you'll be ours.
SW: You REALLY like that beer, don't you?
Beer Man: It's like I'm giving up a cat, or a baby, for money. It's always a sad, but profitable, day.
[Suddenly, the cameras cut to the booth, where both BaseBrawl teams are waiting in line to get a beer.]
MM: Now THIS is what BaseBrawl is all about!
Beer Man: You're darn tooting. And remember, every beer you drink helps puppies and kittens and Christmas. And it gets you drunk!
SW: That last line sold me! Give me another.
Dr. A: I too shall ingest one of your fermented barley beverages.
THUMPCRASHBANGTHUD
[One minute of silence.]
MM: Can you hear me?
SW: Unfortunately
MM: Kamikanie Ken and Insano Mano have fought all around the pressbox here at Cloudydale Stadium, and they're now brawling on the edge, damn near ready to both fall down onto ALL TO CONVENIENT™ tables stacked five high beneath them.
Detached Narrator: Don't look at me. It's not like I threatened to fire them if they didn't do the insanely stupid spot that will send them to the hospital, yet again, and put them further in debt.
SW: Kamikazie Ken SPEARS Insano Mano! OH MY GOD!
CRUNCH!!!!!!!
Crowd: HOLY KRAT! HOLY KRAT! HOLY KRAT!
MM: You want to talk about hardcore icons?
SW: Monroe, these two are hardcore MOrons. Look at them. They're not moving. They've effectively eliminated themselves from the match and cost themselves the shot at the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS!
MM: Titles may come and go, but glory lasts forever. As the teams head back, let's see...Polar was still at the plate. I think. No outs. One ball.
NH: How is your "one-ball" Billy?
BP: Fine. How is your fetus?
NH: I'm NOT pregnant.
BP: XXXtreme Machine Jr.?
XXXtreme Machine: jey fkuc u
SW: Uh-oh! Fan on the field! Oh no! He's got a shovel!
MM: That's not a fan! It's XXXtreme Machine! This takes fan run-ins to a new extreme!
SW: Who's brilliant idea was shovel morning?
MM: I'm sure he'll only get probation for this!
BONK
MM: Oh no. He just hit Sir Hungalot in his injured groin!
SH: Whyyyyyyyy! Whyyy god whyyyyyy!
SW: He's charging at Polar. But Polar has the bat. Hey look! Here comes the rest of the bench to beat the crap out of XXXtreme Machine. He doesn't even get to Polar.
MM: And here come the Rent-A-Cops. But it looks like Sir Hungalot is forced to leave the game due to a groin pull.
SW: That could keep him out of both his jobs. Poor Hungalot.
MM: Well, I guess we've counted Ken and Mano being destroyed, so the score is now 4-1 for Team Joshitude.
MMR1: That title is mine. Mine. MINE!
SW: And here comes Mr. X with a pitch.
CRACK
MM: Ohhh, my! That thing must be going, 300, 400 feet!
SW: Yeah! Too bad it's straight up in the air.
BP: Damnit!
SW: He's on the run as Heidi waits for the ball to come down. She's got it. Polar is OUT!
NH: Way to not get the job done, as usual, Billy.
BP: Shut it, you evil whore.
SW: And here comes douja. Looks like he hasn't made a bong out of his bat yet.
MM: Give him time. He's at that plate. Here comes the pitch.
SW: High and wide. Just like douja. Bwahaha.
MM: He has put on a few pounds. Too much junk food, I guess. And the second pitch.
CRACK
MM: Wow, That one is headed to the wall.
SW: Man, we should become a baseball league. Think about it. The XBL! The Xtreme BaseBrawl League. Screw this wrestling crap.
MM: You just want to be able to drink on the job.
SW: Your point?
MM: And douja just gets that one over the unguarded centerfield wall. Insano Mano was eliminated, and with him there, he might have had a shot at stopping it.
SW: He's looking a little winded as he heads home. But he just kept his team alive. They need all the runs they can get now. This was turning into a slaughter.
Generic Ump: Who would you like to eliminate?
douja: Let's see dawg...*looks around* dat cracka!
Studnuts: Gat damn it! I stayed up late for nothing.
SW: Damnit. Studnuts is out of BaseBrawl. That sucks. I wanted a real champion to hold the OWTTM.
MM: You must remember, this is BOB. So, now the score is 4-2 Joshitude over the Harvard Damnits. BVD coming to the plate.
BVD: DOOOOOOD! HOOOOOOOOO!
Dr. A: Silence, fool!
SW: He needs to get hit in the head.
MM: That's what the protective helmets are for.
SW: Man, Heidi looks so good, I'd love to go down on the field and mow Heidi's lawn. WOOHOO!
MM: Down, Scotty. And here is the pitch. BVD hits it. Ground ball between second and third base. Uh-oh.
Atomo: ATOMO-ACTIVATE!
SW: This is like watching a disaster unfold. Detached Narrrator and Atomo The Robot are charging toward each other. Heads collide. Both men go down. But DN does the major selling here.
MM: But Atomo has the ball and that forces BVD to stay on first with a single. Doesn't look like your robot did any good there, Doc.
Dr. A: FOOLISH MORTAL! YOUR INSULTS MEAN NOTHING TO ME!
SW: Where the hell is BVD going?
MM: Back to home base. He wants to get some offense in on Heidi it looks like.
SW: He wraps his legs around her face and takes her down! She's tapping out! Aw man. I wanted to see her lose her top or flash the crowd. Or me!
MM: Well, you'll just have to go back to your tape collection for fleshy thrills then. Score is now 4-3. Joshitude now got some competition.
SW: Dumb strategy though. Heidi is a girl. She can't play this game.
MM: Say it, brother.
*Sound of hands high-fiving*
SW: And here comes Violent Pacifist. He's been swinging bats for years. Mr. Baseball Bat won't be his bat tonight, though. VP doing a silly routine here. Come on!
MM: I haven't seen anything this outrageous since Nomar Garciaparra's last up. Sheesh. Mr. X looking impatient. Uh oh!
SW: Here comes the pitch! HAHAHAHA! He just beaned VP in the head!
MM: And here comes the team.
SW: BENCH CLEARING BRAWL™!
MM: This is what we've been looking forward to seeing. This is basically a scramble here until one team captain tells the Generic Umpire to halt the fight.
SW: Polar and Massive Man brawling at first base. VP has Mr. X. Baseball to the head! Cover! One, two three! Now THAT's revenge.
MM: And that ties the score. Mr. X is eliminated. And Joshitude doesn't have a pitcher.
SW: BVD just stole second! Literally! He took the base out of the ground and now is chasing after Detached Narrator! Oh! Shot to the face! Some big revenge there!
MM: Indeed. Atomo The Robot beating up on douja. Who must think he's hallucinating, being attacked by a robot.
douja: dis is so f*cked up, dawg.
Dr. A: That, my friends, is science’s greatest achievement! A robot that can mimic all the functions of a human being, at ten times the efficiency. He may well be the most valuable thing on the planet.
Atomo: ATOMO’S-EARS-ARE-BURNING.
SW: douja just used his lighter to get free of the robot's attack. Where's Godzilla when you need him?
MM: Khan chokeslams Brandon on the grass.
SW: Little Good is all by himself out there in left field. He doesn't seem to care that this fight is even going on.
MM: Oh wait, here comes Sarah "The Jobber Slayer." Why is she out here?
Help, Part 4
[She snaps her fingers in front of his face. Barely any reaction.]
STJS: What are you doing? There's a BaseBrawl going on out there.
LG: If I stay still, the voice don't talk to me.
STJS: Listen, there's, surprise surprise, a girl in trouble. And I'm here.
LG: What a coinkydink. You arrive and there is trouble. Maybe you should go to Iraq, liven that place up a tad.
STJS: The girl. Is there something evil here? In Cloudydale?
LG: Evil. Yes. Evil right here. Michael's a bad, bad man. Evil man.
STJS: Who is Michael?
[He no sells the question.]
LG: Can't hurt the girl.
STJS: Did you lose your puppy again and hurt her? Wait a minute. I meant to say, there's a guy. Ken War.
LG: And people say I'm confused. Alright, bit, why don't you go save the day in the library or some other spot where those presidents have her and plan to chop his head like Gallagher on watermelon.
STJS: The who in the where with the huh?
LG: Go to the library. Stop the baddies. Once I get eliminated her, I'll come help out.
STJS: Ok. See you VERY soon.
LG: If Kay Fabe were here, she would so beat your ass.
(Still) Bottom Of The First
MM: Oh man! Khan just pinned Brandon! Joshitude takes control of the game, again. They lead 5-4 as this BENCH CLEARING BRAWL continues.
SW: Polar just called for a cease-fire. The fans are booing, but he's down to only four members on his team. Man, Polar looks genuinely hurt by the boos. Good! Be a heel, It's what you're good at!
MM: Man, we need to gain some composure here. We know the score. BVD is at third base, finally giving up his grip on second base. VP is on first base after being hit by Mr. X.
Generic Ump: Rule change. We need a pitcher. So somebody, come pitch!
SW: And everyone's calling for Khan to pitch. He obliges. We're back to the top of the order. Billy Polar up. No outs?
MM: I, uh...one out, I'm told. Billy Polar popped out to lead off this endless inning.
SW: No catcher, so Generic Ump will be tossing balls back to Polar. Just like in the top of the inning.
MM: And here comes the pitch. What a wind-up by Khan!
SW: Bunt?!
MM: I'm amazed he was able to hit that one. Khan had a lot of velocity on that pitch. That could have been going 80 or 90 miles an hour.
SW: Khan charging for the ball, but he's a power man, not a speed guy. He gets the ball and tosses it to first base. Hahaha! Massive Man dropkicked Polar as he came up the line. But he drops the throw by Khan.
MM: The bases are loaded!
SW: Polar heads to left field. He's going after Little Good. It's the Migraine! His brainbuster. Cover! One. Two. Three! Polar did it, damnit!
MM: Score is tied at 5 aside. And he heads back to first base. Looks like Massive Man and Polar are talking some crap to each other there.
BP: You smell like poo.
MMR1: No, *you* smell like dookie.
BP: Poo!
MMR1: Dookie head!
SW: What happened to our on-field microphone?
MM: Technical difficulties, as usual. If douja can hit a grand slam here, Team Harvard will win the game. But then we would likely have to have a four-way dance on the next show to determine who the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS would be, right?
SW: Sounds good. Book it!
MM: BVD at third base. VP at second. Polar at first. douja at the plate. The crowd is getting into this one right now. The stakes couldn't be higher.
SW: Khan winds up.
Generic Ump: Ball!
MM: And the crowd claps. douja heads to Khan. Kick to the balls! Khan collapses to his knees as douja returns to the plate. Khan shakes off the pain and gets back into position.
SW: Ah, the PC version of no-selling. Come on, Mike!
MM: Pitch.
SW: Yes! Swing and a miss!
MM: Count is 1 and 1. And here comes Khan. Stiff punch to the forehead. douja falls to the ground and picks his helmet back up.
SW: The Smoke Dawg and the Big Cheesy Retard going at it here.
MM: Here comes a pitch.
Generic Ump: Stteeeeerike!
MM: Khan has the advantage here. One out. One ball. Two strikes. Bases loaded for douja.
SW: Here we go. Pitch.
Generic Ump: Ball.
MM: 2 and 2. You can cut the tension with a knife here.
SW: douja is gonna do what he always does, CHOKE! Haha.
MM: That was, almost, clever. Khan ready to toss. He looks at all the bases and throws....
Generic Ump: Sttreeeeball.
SW: Man, the Ump trying to swerve the skimmers.
MM: Full count for douja. He steps in. Khan looks in, as if he's looking for a pitch, but, you know, Heidi is long gone. Here we go!
CRACK
MM: Foul ball!
Generic Ump: May I have your attention please. As the BaseBrawl rules mandate due to a random idea thrown out by BigBOSS, when you hit a foul ball, you must down a shot of Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey. This bottle is 80 proof. Get over here douja.
douja: f*ck dawg cant i get sum colt?
Generic Ump: Nope. (He pours the shot. douja downs it and heads back into the batters box.)
SW: So, free whiskey is punishment? Too bad I couldn't get in on this one.
MM: Have another beer, Scotty. We're charging them on BOB's corporate account.
SW: BOB doesn't have--
MM: Shhhhhhh.
SW: Oh. Gotcha.
MM: Here comes the pitch.
CRACK
MM: Ohhh my! That one is going, going, going foul!
SW: He has to down another shot. That's gonna play hell with his already hellish hand-eye coordination.
MM: I think douja's liking the buzz, at least. Here we go again. Is it still the first inning?
SW: Sadly, yes.
MM: Well thank God we are doing this elimination thing or we'd be here forever.
SW: You mean, like a real baseball game. Haha. Yeah, that would suck. Though we could drink more beers.
MM: Bases loaded. Full count. douja at the plate. Khan pitches!
CRACK
MM: Look out Scotty, that's coming our way.
SW: And, yes, foul. What's this, now, three shots for the Smoke Dawg.
MM: And he's back. What a trooper.
douja: yo dawg which ball do i hit?
Billy Polar: The one in the middle!
CRACK
SW: He hit it!
MM: right to Detached Narrator at second! He tags the bag. Toss to first base. Double play!
SW: Detached Narrator kicks Polar in the head. Oh no! With the cleats. Polar is busted wide open! But will Polar stop playing? Hell no! Unlike those pussies in the baseball thingee, they're damn pansies and pussies and stuff. You know?
MM: Yep. They break a fingernail, they're out for three weeks. Screw 'em all. Let's start the XBL! Get BigBOSS on that. Stuff. There. Yeah.
SW: If we keep drinkin' we're gonna sound like GBH pretty soon. Yur. Hehe.
MM: Heheh. WHEEE!
SW: So, the innings over here, so lets take a bathroom break, yeah?
MM: Sure. Score is something to something. We'll be right back.
Help, Part 5
In the hallways of Cloudydale College, Michelle and her new friend Ken War were taking a walk. It appeared that Ken War was onto the scheme Sarah had cooked up, and it was time for an incoherent confrontation.
"u r nto hardkorr!!111"
The pair continued walking down the hall as Michelle stumbled for an answer to the accusation.
"No, actually, I wasn't. I mean. Sarah told me to, but, I mean, now we're friends."
"ey thnki ey went 2 eta sum soles!!11" Ken War said, tying on a bib and looking for a soul to eat.
They were still walking together. Everything seemed relatively normal. Then Michelle felt a tap on her right shoulder. Which, OK, could be a bit odd, since the campus was deserted. But then, there were all the BOB wrestlers. She turned around. There was nobody there. Or was Ken just trying to get away from her to go find a soul to eat?
"Huh. That was--" She turned around again. There was the click of a door shutting somewhere. Now Ken War was gone. "Double weird. Ken! Ken! KEN! Where are you?"
Top Of The Second
MM: And welcome back. It's the second inning. And it appears we missed something major there at the end. Let's replay it.
[Shot of Massive Man pinning douja at first base.]
SW: Jack Daniels beat douja there, not Massive Man.
MMR1: Screw you, Scotty!
MM: It's 6-5 Joshitudes. Things are looking good for da bad guys.
SW: Khan is back up, since he never did finish his turn at bat last inning. Polar at the mound. Here's the pitch.
MM: Strike one.
SW: Here comes Polar. Punch to Khan's head. Back to the mound. Polar's face is a crimson mask, but he's not giving up. He is dedicated to the fans and that's why the fans love him so much. Finally, after hating him for so long. I wish he'd be cool again.
MM: And the second pitch is...a...swing and a miss. Strike two.
Khan: MRGH!
MM: Polar down again. He takes off his glove. Oh my! Khan falls down. Cover! One. Two. No.
SW: Polar is looking frustrated. It's hard to be good, isn't it, Polar.
MM: And here we will try this again. Pitch. Ball. Khan swings. Now it's a strike and he's out. He's the GI Slow of BaseBrawl.
SW: Look, Doc. Here comes your, erm, thing.
Dr. A: I have come to conquer this pathetic globe. When I unleash my dread power, all men will tremble at the name of… Dr. Azathoth!
SW: Good luck with that. OK, then.
MM: Atomo the Living Robot to the plate. Polar wipes some blood on his jersey. Here comes the pitch.
CRACK
MM: That is going, going, going...off the center field wall. Atomo is running the bases as Violent Pacifist charges for the spot, all the way from second base. Team Harvard has no outfielders remaining. This is gonna be tough on them.
SW: Atomo clotheslined BVD as he rounded first. BVD can't be the cut-off man. And now the robot is heading to third. Polar runs toward him. Atomo with a powerslam on Polar. He gets back up. VP has the ball and throws it. It makes it to second base. Great throw.
MM: Atomo gets an inside-the-park homerun. And things are looking bleak for the Harvard Damnits!
Generic Ump: Who would you like to eliminate, Atomo?
Atomo: BVD.
Generic Ump: You're out of here, BVD!
BVD: DOOOOD!
MM: 7-5. The end is in sight.
SW: Thank god. The beer man is also in sight! Whee!
MM: And, we're back to the top of the order. Massive Man, the team captain, looking to finally best his arch-nemesis Billy Polar. The man he has never beaten.
SW: It's his time. His tiiiiiiime!
MM: Don't get us sued. Polar with a fastball. Strike. Massive Man didn't even react.
MMR1: What was that noise. When did you throw that?
MM: And the next pitch. MMR1 with a ground ball. Polar racing to first. He gets there in time. MMR1 is out. First out of the inning.
SW: Hey! VP is staying at first base. He can't do that!
MM: Generic Ump doesn't seem to notice, or care. And Polar puts Massive Man into a sleeper! This won't work, will it?
SW: It never does.
MM: I don't know. Massive Man is down on his butt. Polar has it cinched in.
SW: It's an illegal choke!
MM: Generic Ump comes up. He lifts the arm.
SW: That's OK, just dropped once. He'll come back at the third arm drop. Trust me. I've watched enough wrestling to know this.
MM: Arm up. Arm goes down.
SW: And here comes the big--
MM: Arm goes up. Arm goes down! Massive Man is eliminated! The team captain has been knocked out by a sleeper hold!
SW: ... That is the most retarded thing I've ever seen. An effective sleeper hold in 2003? I need more beer.
MM: The score is now 7-6. The Joshitudes are in shock.
Detached Narrator: You're so going to be a cow when I get back in my brackets. No, not a cow. A squirrel. Abandoned on a highway in Connecticut.
SW: Polar is too exhausted for a witty comeback. How lame is that?
MM: The former ONLY WORLD CHAMPTION THAT MATTERS wants his belt back.
SW: VP has a better shot at it now.
MM: One out. Nobody on as Detached Narrator prepares to hit another homerun. Swing. Hit! Catch by Polar!
SW: NO! How did he jump that high! White luchadores can't jump THAT high.
MM: Two outs. Detached Narrator isn't happy about it at all.
SW: Would you be happy about that. Polar is so tired he just threw his shoe at Narrator. That is offensive.
MM: And here comes Khan for the easy out.
[Pitch. Ball. Swing. Strike. Repeat chorus twice more. VP filled in as the puncher, again, knocking Khan down.]
SW: No!
MM: One! Two! Three! Khan is gone! Score tied 7-7. Polar, VP, Atomo and Detached Narrator. One of these men will win the title.
SW: Great. The robot might as well win the title in his first match. That'd be typical BOB. And a much better choice than Polar or VP.
MM: We'll be right back with the bottom of the second inning. And possibly the end of this BaseBrawl.
Help, Part 6
In the middle of the library, Ken War found himself bound and gagged. Three figures, all in suits, sat around him. They each held lit cigars in their hands and then lit a really big cigar in the middle of them all. BOB viewers could easily identify the figures as Clinton, Nixon and LBJ, the somewhat lookalikes that wrestle in BOB...well, try to wrestle in BOB.
"dere's wratstlin en bub??//"
"Okay, how did he get ungagged?" LBJ asked.
Nixon regagged Ken. And then Clinton stood up.
"You mind zipping before you stand, boss?" Nixon asked Clinton.
"Oops. How'd Willy get free. I did not let Willy get free. As long as you define let as let and not as free. OK, down to business. With this meat cleaver, I will chop out the tiny brain of Ken War to give the 1600 Club, myself, Nixon, LBJ and future members, gold, money and power!"
"You three losers don't deserve anything other than a full kicking of every inch of your asses."
It was Sarah "The Jobber Slayer"!
OK, it wasn't THAT exciting, it was a tad predictable.
She kicked Clinton almost halfway across the room. Then the other two scattered.
"Well, hello little lady. Care to intern for me? I've got a spot under a desk all picked out for you!" Clinton said.
"Before I projectile vomit all over the three of you, I think I am due a gloat. I just saved Ken War. And stopped from allowing a demon to get loose and cause havoc."
"Oh, is that a fact?" Clinton asked. "Well, you might want to turn around."
Slowly, she did just that, making sure it wasn't an actual plan the had had. But he had not been lying. As she turned around, she came across an older looking fellow, dressed in red, white and blue, with a big top hat on. He pointed right in her face.
"Say hello to Uncle Sam!" Clinton bellowed out. "He'll crush and destroy everything in his path!"
"Oh, great. How do I fight the symbol of the U.S. Army?" Sarah pondered. "Say, would you consider putting a mask on? Like, of that Scream guy or Adam Sandler."
"hardkorr!!11"
Uncle Sam punched the heck out of Sarah's jaw, but she responded with a sidekick. A punch. A spinning punch. A spinning kick. And then was put flat on her ass with a big punch from Uncle Sam.
He started for Sarah, but suddenly stopped and fell. Behind him stood Little Good. With an American flag on a pole. He lifted the thing up and then jammed it through Uncle Sam.
"I don't give a bloody damn about America, so bugger off."
"Help Ken, will you?"
"Bloody hell." If you can't guess who said it, go away. Now.
Ken was ungagged. Ken War grabbed hold of Little Good and prepared to tell him something that will (hopefully) stay with Little Good, and the BOB viewers, until this angle is completed.
"ur trncehacoat smlels ov edleralbarries!!11"\
Little Good paused a moment, and really looked at him, while in the background sounds of crashing and breaking were heard. Little Good and Ken War stood up, and Sarah rejoined them.
"And who said there are no happy endings anymore. Ken is alive. I kicked some jobber ass. And, um..." she paused, looking at Little Good. "Nice, peroxide job."
"Gee, thanks." He straightened his trenchcoat, even taking a quick wiff, before stomping towards however he got out of the basement. Or from the field. Whatever.
Ken and Sarah began walking toward the front door. She opened it. He walked through. She followed him out.
No pianos fell from the sky. Or anvils.
"You see? You're not going to die. I don't know why you thought that," she said, walking away from him.
"wlel, ets jes det... ovv..."
Just one sandbag that crushed his skull and killed him dead.
Again.
Bottom Of The Second
MM: Welcome back. Detached Narrator is now pitching, and Atomo has moved over to first base. Violent Pacifist steps into the box. His long wind up again. Detached Narrator with the toss.
VP: Whoa!
DN: Quit crowding the plate.
MM: It's getting hot out there. VP kicks the Narrator in the crotch! Oh no! It's a TINY BENCH CLEARING BRAWL! Polar has a bat! He hits Atomo in the back of the head as VP and Narrator fight. Cover by Polar! One. Two. Three!
Dr. A: No! No! No! No!
MM: Hey, put that down! You'll get us sued. Stop him, Scotty.
[Sounds of struggling. Suddenly a television monitor falls from the press box onto the field.]
MM: Well, Dr. Azathoth is taking off. Thanks for joining us. Polar is walking towards Detached Narrator with the bat. I think he's had just about enough. OH MY GOD!
SW: Did I just? YES! YES! POLAR JUST HIT VIOLENT PACIFIST WITH THE BAT! DETACHED NARRATOR COVERS HIM! AND THEN ROLLS ON HIS BACK! POLAR COVERS NARRATOR! POLAR WINS! POLAR WINS! OH YEAH, THE BITCH IS BACK!
MM: Heidi runs out onto the field. She jumps into Polar's arms. Wait a minute! Polar just pulled some sort of blood spewing contraption from off his head! No! He has just shattered the dreams of children, the elderly.
SW: And anybody unlucky enough to be watching this show. Relax man, it's all fake. We'll all have beers together in a few minutes.
MM: XXXtreme Machine walks out on the field. What in the hell are we seeing here?
SW: I don't know, but I like most of it. XXXtreme Machine I don't get, but the rest is great! Polar's got a microphone to explain!
BP: You fans, can STICK IT!
MM: And the crowd is booing wildly and throwing garbage in his general direction, but not even coming close.
BP: What you are looking at here, is DEVOLUTIØN! The best thing going today, whether you like it or you don't! Billy Polar. The guy that is. Narrator. The guy that could be. And Machine. The guy that never will be. Plus Heidi. Yes, Heidi. Not her sister, you inferior intellected fans.
MM: Intellected?
SW: It's a word. He's from Harvard. He'd know.
BP: I'm from Harvard, damnit! I heard you booing me today! And it hurt. Every chance I got, I tried to make things be good. But you fans didn't buy my merchandise, laugh at my jokes, or brake when I was walking down the road. So, once again, you can all stick it!
© 2003 BOB Wrestling. The Earth Is Doomed!
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