THE FOLLOWING IS A JOINT PRODUCTION OF BOB WRESTLING AND DIMENSION Z PRODUCTIONS.
Deep in the heart of Dimension Z lies the Mansion of Chaos Ruler, home to the ruler of the dimension. Within that mansion, in a secret chamber, Sir Zeno had bowed before an altar shaped like a man’s hat.
"Oh, Man Called True," the ruler of the dimension intoned, "tell me what your desire is, and it shall be fulfilled."
The sound of corduroy rubbing against itself filled the area, as a man that looked vaguely like Andy Warhol popped into being. "YOU WOULDN’T WANT TO KNOW, TRUST ME."
After extracting himself from the side bookshelf, Sir Zeno dusted off and replied, "You could do your follower the kindness of warning him before you manifest in his altar room!"
"YOU WERE PRAYING SO LOUDLY THAT YOU WOULDN’T HAVE HEARD ME," the god referred to as the Man Called True said, pushing his shades up. "NOW, LISTEN CAREFULLY. I HAVE DECIDED…" He stopped, and glanced around. "WHERE DID MYLISIV AND PARADOX GET OFF TO?"
"I’m not sure, master," Zeno said, "but I suppose I can retrieve them if you wish."
"DO SO," the deity said as he lit a cigarette. "THEY HAVE TO HEAR THIS TOO."
About half an hour later, the Man Called True was seated in a bean-bag chair, glancing at the figures assembled around him – Sir Zeno, to his left; Queen Mylisiv on Zeno’s lap, her blue skin particularly radiant today; Mr. Paradox, leaning against a wall; Meat-Puppet, stooped over and twitching; and Nucleo, who had chosen to play solitaire.
"I’VE DECIDED TO OBLITERATE BRAWLERS ON A BUDGET," the deity began, and then paused for the expected outraged reply.
What he got was three shrugs, one spasm, and a beeping noise as the red 5 moved onto the black 6.
"THAT WASN’T WHAT I EXPECTED… ANYONE CARE TO KNOW WHY I’VE DECIDED TO DO SO?"
Mr. Paradox tilted his hat up and said, "Because it’s one of the dumbest things ever invented by supposedly intelligent people?"
"CORRECT," the Man Called True said. "IT MUST BE DESTROYED BEFORE ITS INANITY TAINTS OTHER MEDIA… HOWEVER, I MUST ADMIT PARTS OF IT AMUSE ME, SO I’LL GIVE IT A CHANCE TO REDEEM ITSELF."
Queen Mylisiv took a break from scrutinizing Sir Zeno’s face and asked, "What chance would that be?"
"A TRIAL BY WRESTLING…"
Let The Trials Begin!
[It’s a BOB House Show, televised due to spare cash in the budget. Hmm? We just started airing? Well, who the fuck forgot to tell me?!? Okay, calm down… Right now, Kwai Chang Siegel is trying to call someone out in a desperate attempt at push…]
Nurse Heidi: I don’t think anybody is coming… This is dead air.
Mark Shill: It’s the MOST EXCITING DEAD AIR IN BOB HISTORY!
Scotty Whatbody: Well, this is going to take a while… Remember, fans, in tonight’s main event, the Swiss Army Belt champion will face off against douja! Hold it, someone’s approaching the ring… damn it! My monitor just fizzled!
MS: SO DID MINE!
NH: And mine… Now’s there static coming from the loudspeakers. Fans, we seem to be having a minor electrical disturb-
[XXXtreme Machine pauses from his incoming chairshot.]
XXXtreme Machine: yu gtta b jokin me
[WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENNNNNNIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGGG… Okay, it seems to have stopped. It seems that the commentators and I have just undergone teleportation into a dark room… ah, the lights are coming on. We’re in a coliseum… and so is the entire BoB roster! Okay, now I’m confused.]
*It isn’t as bad as you think…*
[What the… Action Asterisks Guy! I thought you died when the car you were speaking about went off a cliff!]
*No, I didn’t die… even though a "mysterious stranger" cut through the car’s brakes.*
[Are you accusing me, asshole?]
[The lights come up in the back of the coliseum, revealing some guy that looks like Andy Warhol seated on a stone throne. Sitting in thrones surrounding him are Sir Zeno, Queen Mylisiv, and Mr. Paradox… Okay, now I have someone to ask. WHAT THE FUCK is happening… okay, who fucked with my voice?]
???: AGAIN, SILENCE. WHILE WE ARE HERE, ONLY I MAY SPEAK IN ALL CAPS. I AM… THE MAN CALLED TRUE.
[Silence. I notice that the iAd is here as well. In fact, every single member of BoB has come here, including the BigBOSS… who just stepped forward.]
BigBOSS: I couldn’t care less who you are, you don’t just screw with my show and get away with-
*HEAVY LOURDE! (Gods, I love this job…)*
MS: MY GOD! A giant weight just fell on the BigBOSS!
NH: That… was random.
MGT: NOW THAT WE’VE SETTLED THAT, IT’S TIME TO EXPLAIN WHY YOU’RE ALL HERE. I’VE DECIDED TO DESTROY BRAWLERS ON A BUDGET…
[Pandemonium breaks out and eats XXXtreme Machine before anyone can tranquilize it.]
MGT: BUT I WILL GIVE IT A CHANCE TO PROVE ITS WORTH. TO THAT EFFECT, WE WILL HOLD A TRIAL OF COMBAT – THE WRESTLERS OF THIS ORGANIZATION WILL BATTLE WRESTLERS FROM OTHER DIMENSIONS. AND ONCE I’M SUFFICIENTLY AMUSED, WE WILL HOLD THE FINAL TRIAL.
[Cut to Styles, tied to a rack and getting beaten by a woman with a cat-o’-nine-tails.]
Styles: Oh- *THWACK!* My- *THWACK!* God! *THWACK*
[Back to the coliseum, as the BOB roster has begun murmuring among itself.]
Zeno: I daresay we won’t need all of you right now…
[He snaps his fingers, and the BOB roster disappears.]
SW: You can’t do that! Most of those guys are still under contract!
Zeno: Correction: I can do that, because we’re in MY home dimension. You’re a guest commentator.
NH: Hold it. Guest?
*Two guys pop out of nowhere, complete with their own announce table. I should add that Whatbody, Shill, and Heidi are all strapped to chairs in the front row of the coliseum, which is packed with bizarre lifeforms.*
[Stop stepping on my job!]
*This is my world, bitch. Either way, one of the guys is dressed in black and wears face paint swiped directly from the Crow, while the other is a large fellow in a suit a size too small for him.*
Zeno: I present, the Dimension Z Commentators – Vespers and Carlyle!
Vespers (the Crow-looking guy): Can we get this over with? I’m missing the 8:10 train.
QM: You were planning on going somewhere?
Vespers: No, I was planning on standing in the tracks.
Carlyle: Well, ladies and germs, we’re just moments away from THE GREATEST EVENT IN THE HISTORY OF DIMENSION Z!
MS: DON’T STEAL MY GIMMICK, ASSHOLE!
*A crash of lightning sounds.*
MGT: SILENCE! LET THE TRIALS BEGIN!
[A wrestling ring materializes from nowhere. I notice that the Masked Announcer is in the ring. Too cheap to hire your own?]
*Actually, he’s on vacation this month.*
MA: According to the cards I’m holding, this match is a Puppetmaster match. Representing BOB, the "You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain’t Doing That, Are You Out Of Your Flippin’ Mind" title belt and Unit-5!
[Both of the inanimate objects appear on one side of the ring, just sitting there, as usual.]
MA: And representing Dimension Z, Queen Mylisiv’s old blender and air conditioner!
[The blender and air conditioner also appear, the blender with spider legs attached to it and the air conditioner floating off the mat.]
MA: And now, the special referee – Marion!
*The Marion in question is actually some guy in a blue robe who pops out of nowhere.*
SW: Bwaaaaahahahahaah! You expect me to believe there’s a guy named Marion?
Marion: It was John Wayne’s real name, you know. Besides, it’s short for "Marionette Lord".
Marion: Fuck you. I’m just here to give the competitors life.
*Marion raises his hand, and a bolt of CGI lightning hits all four objects. Suddenly, they twitch and move, coming to life…*
Vespers: And the curtain-jerker is underway.
Carlyle: And what a match it’s shaping up to be! The blender and the air conditioner have begun whipping the belt and the washing machine with their power cords!
NH: Wait, this match isn’t fair! The blender and air conditioner can move under their own power!
SW: Well, fans, there’s a line you’ll never hear again! And the YGBKIADTAYOOYFM title belt has flipped onto each of its buckles, so now it can move… Buckle-slam to the blender!
Carlyle: The blender didn’t seem to like that… It’s switched to "Puree"! OH! Spinning base-kick to the belt! Now the air conditioner is blowing the belt into the ropes on "Glacier" setting!
Vespers: And only now does the Generic Ref enforce the rules about one man at a time. It’s the belt against the blender… The blender trips the belt, and there goes the cord again.
Carlyle: But the belt reverses! WHATTA MANUEVER! It’s got the blender cornered… Another buckle-slam! And the blender’s trying to tag out!
SW: It’s not having much success, though, as it doesn’t have hands! The ref’s signaling that it can use its cord… It makes the tag!
MS: FULL-BODY PRESS TO THE BELT!
Vespers: The title belt tries to flee to its corner… and it’s down and buried under the air conditioner. One, two… and it barely lifts a strap. And I vow to murder-suicide the bastard who arranged this.
Carlyle: The air conditioner’s got the belt by its buckles… ATOMIC POWERBOMB! One, two… OH! Another buckle-out!
SW: And the belt BARELY makes the tag! It’s Unit-5 against the air conditioner… But Unit-5 can’t move! The air conditioner knocks it off the apron!
NH: Well, of course it can’t! It doesn’t have any way to move, alive or not! This is the dumbest match I’ve ever seen… and what’s scary is that wasn’t hyperbole!
[Okay, that’s it. I’m cuing a run-in… what? "Not Enough Access Credits – Reality Change Denied"? Who the fuck just blocked me?]
*This isn’t your world, bitchboy. Still, I’m just as sick of this as you are… "Ride of the Valkyries" plays…*
MS: IT’S KAMIKAZE KEN! KAMIKAZE KEN JUST LANDED ON TOP OF THE AIR CONDITIONER! AND NOW HE’S RIDING IT LIKE A RODEO BULL!
GR: What the hell? I’ll allow it!
Carlyle: And the masked moron is holding onto the air conditioner for dear life! It’s trying to buck him off without success! Hang on, he just grabbed the temperature control!
Vespers: And he just turned it from "Glacier" to "Calcutta in August". Down goes the air conditioner… And Ken leaves, to our great relief.
NH: Hey, Unit-5 just pried open its door… How the hell did it fit a rocket into itself?
SW: I do believe that’s the U.S. Army "Crotch Rocket" model – powerful enough to send a satellite into orbit, but small enough for private use!
NH: Before you even suggest it, I am NOT putting a goddamn rocket engine next to my groin!
SW: I didn’t even think that!
MCT: ACTUALLY, YOU DID. I CAN HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS.
SW: Stay the fuck out of my mind!
Vespers: Have either of you babbling idiots noticed that Unit-5 just turned on the rocket?
MS: SHOOTING STAR PRESS ONTO THE AIR CONDITIONER! ONE, TWO… THREE!
MA: And the winner of this match, Unit-5 and the YGBKIADTAYOOYFM Title Belt!
*Back to the Dimension Z announcers. Vespers is sharpening a knife.*
Vespers: Thank every deity you can think of that we’re done with that. We shall return, I fear, after this.
*The camera focuses, revealing that it’s taken up residence in a large cave. This is actually one of the many caverns located beneath the majority of Dimension Z, inside what we call the Fulcrum Crag. Standing around a torch-bearing Nucleo are Justin Voss, Kwai Chang Siegel, Mr. X, and Britney Smears.*
Nucleo: RULES-OF-MATCH-ARE-AS-FOLLOWS. COMPETITORS-MUST-ENTER-THE –CAVERNS-AND-ATTEMPT-TO FIND-AND-DEFEAT-UNIT: Meat-Puppet. THE-CAVERNS-ARE-BOOBY-TRAPPED-IN-MANY-PLACES.
Kwai Chang Siegel: You do realize that if any one of the traps harms us, we can file a hazardous conditions suit, right?
Nucleo: THIS-IS-NOT-THE-AMERICAN-LEGAL-SYSTEM, UNIT: Siegel. STANDARD-LAWS-DO-NOT-APPLY.
Mr. X: Give me one good reason why I should risk my ass in your fuckin’ gauntlet.
*Nucleo hoists a shotgun.*
Mr. X: Fine, I’m spelunking, I’m spelunking.
Nucleo: YOU-HAVE-ONE-HOUR. BEGIN.
*And they’re off… and Justin Voss, as the last one through the door, gets clobbered in the groin by a jet-propelled boot. Back to ringside.*
SW: Didn’t Mr. X get fired?
Vespers: This is the last match on his contract. Hold it, two emoticons just walked in.
=C]: HEY, FUCKWIT.
MCT: I ASSUME YOU’RE TALKING TO ME…
=<>: NO, WE’RE TALKING TO THE OTHER FUCKWIT. YES, WE’RE TALKING TO YOU.
Zeno: How on earth did you escape the holding cells?
=<>: THAT REMINDS ME - YOU MAY NEED TO REPLACE YOUR GUARDS. THEY HAD A CLOSE ENCOUNTER WITH A GIGANTIC FUCKING KNIFE.
Zeno: It was a mistake bringing you two here.
=C]: FUCK YEAH IT WAS A MISTAKE. WE WERE ENJOYING OUR SEMIRETIREMENT WHEN THIS BIG FUCKING PORTAL SUCKS US THROUGH DIMENSIONS TO YOUR SHITHOLE.
Paradox: Oh, damn…
[The three non-deities hide behind their thrones.]
=<>: I DON’T EXACTLY CARE FOR YOUR BEING AN ASSHOLE. NOW HAND OVER THE BLUE-SKINNED CHICK. MY KNIFE NEEDS PUSSY.
=C]: YOU’LL WHAT? SEND US TO HELL? BEEN THERE, DONE THAT, BITCH.
[With no further ado, the Man Called True snaps his fingers, opening a hole in front of the smilies. They are promptly sucked in.]
[And that’s that. Two title belts fall to the floor as the portal seals itself shut.]
MCT: I HAD FORGOTTEN. THOSE TWO WERE THE TAG TEAM CONQUERER CHAMPIONS, WEREN’T THEY? OH, WELL. THE BELTS ARE YOURS.
*Mr. Paradox picks up the titles and slings them over his shoulder.*
MA: The new Tag Team Conqueror Champions, Mr. Paradox and Meat-Puppet – Necromancy Go!
Paradox: That was quick. Now, begin the next match!
["Better Days" by Tadpole starts playing as Skeet and Leary head towards the ring, more than a little frightened at what might await them. And I don’t blame them on that score, the audience doesn’t look happy.]
MA: Now approaching the ring, two members of the Suck-Ups, Steve Leary and John Skeet!
Carlyle: The audience isn’t showing any love for the Suck-Ups, possibly because they robbed Sir Zeno of the Swiss Army Belt a few months ago. Listen to their boos!
Vespers: So they’re booing? I thought my car had backfired in the parking lot. Then again, it’s hard to tell with this crowd.
MA: And their opponents… representing Dimension A-V-1… the "Sever Limbs For Valuable Prizes" Tag-Team Champions…
*Before he’s even finished, the crowd grants a gigantic pop to the Suck-Up’s opponents.*
SW: I don’t even know who’s coming out, but the crowd seems to!
NH: Oh, shit…
SW: Heidi, what’s wrong?
NH: I thought the guy was just joking when he said he wrestled in another dimension…
MA: First, weighing in at 197 pounds… CRYOCIDE!
*"Cold Heart Bitch" by Jet cranks up, courtesy of our sound guy…*
[Is Eddie B. still doing the sound?]
*Do you hear needless scratching? No, that’s our guy, Devastatin’ Dave the Turntable Slave. Either way, dry ice fills the air as the first half of the opponent’s team comes out. Imagine a skinner, less stupid-looking Glacier and you have him in a nutshell.*
SW: Hold it… Heidi, you slept with that guy?
NH: No, he was just the interpreter.
MA: And his partner, weighing in at five metric tons… the AXEMAN OF SAN ANDREAS!
*"House of 1,000 Corpses" by Rob Zombie plays as the entrance suddenly expands. And no wonder, the guy coming out is about twenty feet tall!*
MS: IT’S THE LARGEST ATHLETE IN SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT TODAY!
[Cut to Styles being dragged behind a Volkswagen.]
Styles: Oh- *BUMP!* My- *BUMP!* God!
*That’s the usual reaction. He wears a humungous executioner’s hood, and the rest of his clothing (a wifebeater and trunks) are made out of what appears to be human skin. He doesn’t even bother stepping in the ring.*
SW: What the fuck? Heidi, you slept with THAT?
NH: Well, he was a lot shorter back then… His friend said something about the air in our dimension causing him to shrink. Come to think of it, that does explain how bi-
SW: Heidi, shut up before I vomit on that Vespers guy.
Vespers: Do it and I’ll kill you first. Either way, the Axeman of San Andreas is placing his fingertips on the ring apron. I should add that we’ve had the ring specially reinforced for this occasion.
Carlyle: And Leary and Cryocide are the starting men…
Carlyle: And we’re off! And Leary and Skeet are fleeing the ring!
Zeno: They won’t get very far. We hired special security for this one.
[Leary and Skeet make it into the hallway, when an all-too-familiar face steps in their way.]
???: Hello, my intended.
JS: I’m starting to think that wrestling that Axeman guy might not be a bad idea after all.
SW: And the Suck-Ups head back into the ring! Leary attempting to clothesline Cryocide… It’s dodged!
Cryocide: You know why they call me Cryocide?
CE: Because I have a bad habit… of THIS!
MS: CRYOCIDE JUST SUB-ZERO FROZE LEARY!
NH: "A bad habit… of THIS"? Did that make sense to anyone?
Vespers: Just be glad you’ve never had to watch his promos.
Shao Khan: FINISH HIM.
Cryocide: No way, my insurance premiums are high enough.
Carlyle: A resounding headbutt breaks the ice on Leary and knocks him down! Now Cryocide picks him up… SUB-ZERO FREEZE UPPERCUT!
MS: IT’S THE COLDEST MOVE IN SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT!
Vespers: And Cryocide proves again that he has the unpleasant habit of toying with his victims. After all, all he’d have to do is freeze them and push them over, and he’d have a guaranteed pin… Frosty Bicycle Kick to Leary, followed by an application of a Tongan Death Grip.
SL: Let’s make a deal, shall we?
Cryocide: What would that be?
SL: You let me go, your partner can do whatever the hell he wants with Skeet.
Cryocide: Agreed. Tag out.
SW: The grip is broken, and both men rush to their corners! Cryocide tags the Axeman, while Leary tags in Skeet! And Leary just keeps going!
JS: Come back here, you asshole! You’re not leaving me alone with that thing!
*Leary leaps over Bobo Q. Fiendish and keeps running, with Bobo in hot pursuit. The scene zooms in on Leary and freezes.*
Caption: Steve Leary (wimpus suckupicus)
*The scene continues briefly, then zooms in on Bob and freezes again.*
Caption: Bobo Q. Fiendish (homiciduas maniacus)
*Cut back to the ring.*
Vespers: And the Axeman has – barely – climbed into the ring. Skeet looks up… and up… and up. I do believe he’s trying to stare down the giant.
NH: Can he even see that thing’s eyes?
Vespers: I said, "trying". And the Axeman gives a chop… Skeet goes flying into the ropes.
SW: If the Axeman isn’t careful…
Vespers: And he never is.
SW: …we may have a literal squash here tonight!
JS: Shut the fuck up!
Carlyle: Skeet with a jump-kick to the Axeman! He bounces off, and the Axeman didn’t feel that! Axeman grabs Skeet… GIANT’S SWING! LITERALLY!
MS: IT’S THE BIGGEST MOVE IN SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT TODAY!
SW: The Axeman of San Andreas is just beating Skeet like a dirty rug against the mat! Now he’s spinning one half of the Suck-Ups over his head… Ooh! The… The… What move IS that?
Carlyle: The "Hangman’s Lever"! Now the Axeman is going for the backbreaker… but his back is simply too large! He’s turning to Heidi…
Axeman: Hurr hurr hurrrrr?
Cryocide: My partner says, in effect, "Does this turn you on?"
NH: Well… a bit, I guess…
Axeman: Grruuuhh hurr!
Cryocide: That meant, "Your room or mine?"
NH: Ummm… sorry, but you’re just too large for that…
Axeman: Uuuurrr hurr gruh…
Cryocide: He understands, but… he has a problem with getting turned down.
Carlyle: The Axeman of San Andreas SLAMS Skeet to the mat! He’s… climbing out of the ring and scaling the bleachers!
MS: THIS WILL BE THE BIGGEST SLAM IN ALL OF WRESTLING!
[The front rows are clearing out, I notice…]
*You may wish to brace yourself. Our announcers are moving as well…*
Vespers: As much as I don’t care, I’d prefer not to be crushed to death.
Carlyle: Remember his match with "Face-Eater" Hannigan? The shockwave took out half the city!
Vespers: Good point. To the nosebleeds, then.
MS: AND DOWN COMES THE AXEMAN!
[Things go slow-motion…]
*Back to normal, and THWOOM!*
[Whoa… Now I see what you meant. The smoke’s clearing… and the Axeman of San Andreas is alone in the center of the arena. He gets to his feet, and – holy shit, he flattened the ring! As he gets up, I see that the Dimension Z guys brought ours with them to the cheap seats.]
Vespers: Impressive, as always. I don’t see any blood on the Axeman’s chest, so Skeet must have escaped somehow…
NH: Oof. Now I’m grateful I DIDN’T accept his offer to pounce on me.
SW: Heidi, could you NOT mention that ever again? Wait, Skeet’s holding onto the Axeman’s hood! The Axeman shakes and cannot get him off! He tries to pull Skeet off… but he can’t do that without pulling off the hood!
Cryocide: *Returning from the bathroom* Ahhh… Oh, fuck, again? I told you, you shouldn’t do high-flying maneuvers!
Cryocide: What do you MEAN, "Repeat that"? Get down here!
SW: The Axeman places his head on the ground… and pins Skeet under his chin! One, two, three – it’s over!
MA: *On top of the lighting grid* Yooooouuuurrrr winners, Cryocide and the Axeman of San Andreas!
Zeno: Hmmm… it will take some time to get the replacement ring in here, so let’s cut away.
[Cut to the caves of the Fulcrum Crag, as Kwai Chang Siegel and Justin Voss approach a fork in the tunnel.]
Justin Voss: So… which way?
KCS: The Shaolin Guide to Legal Matters never mentioned spelunking. I swear, once we’re out of the caves I am suing Sir Zeno for coercion.
JV: There’s only one way to go!
[He runs down the center fork but is stopped by Kwai Chang Siegel.]
KCS: Hold it! That may be a trap. Allow me to go first.
[Siegel does some posing and leaps down the tunnel… only to fall through a trapdoor. Cut to an exterior shot of the Fulcrum Crag. Pulling the camera back, we can see a tiny speck that may be Kwai Chang Siegel plummeting through the sky.]
*And since the dimension loops on itself, he crashes through the top of a building, and falls through a series of trapdoors, thus creating an infinite loop.*
[How often are you going to step on my lines, asshole?!?]
*As often as I want. This is my job. Either way, cut back to the arena, where the Axeman of San Andreas has just set down a new ring.*
Zeno: It’s always nice to have a hideous giant on the payroll. The matches shall now resume!
*The Masked Announcer still hasn’t dismounted from the lighting grid.*
MA: Now entering the ring, from Parts Unknown, the UNNNNNNDDDDDDDIIIIIEEEEETAKKKKKEEEEEE… *Cough, hack, wheeze* RRRRR!
[Organ music plays as the underwear-stealing cretin wanders up to the ring, holding up his latest theft: what appears to be surgical tubing.]
Green Blob in the Audience: *Gurgle, gurgle*
CAPTION: That son of a bitch!
MA: And his opponent… from the ancient tombs of Syria… brought back by dark magic… MEAT-PUPPET 2!
*"I Love the Dead" by Alice Cooper plays as a buff, skinless corpse wanders his way to the ring, bumping into only three walls on his way out.*
MS: A GIANT WALKS AMONG US!
[Cut to backstage.]
Cryocide: No, not you!
[Back to the ring.]
Paradox: Behold! The fruits of my dark magic! (under his breath) And a few hundred dollar bills under his dressing room door…
SW: And it’s on! The Undietaker’s handicapped, as his foe isn’t wearing underwear… or anything, for that matter! Meat-Puppet 2 raises his arms…
Meat-Puppet 2: Yurr!
SW: Big right to the Undietaker! Followed by three kicks and a headbutt!
Vespers: This reminds me of when the Undietaker ran a pencils-and-string business on the corner.
SW: Couldn’t even sell there, huh?
MS: RUNNING CHOKESLAM FROM THE UNDIETAKER!
Carlyle: And Meat-Puppet 2 is down! His muscles seem to have ripped, and he can’t get back up!
NH: Hold it… Look at those rips. I doubt anyone’s bones are that color… however, a certain person’s tights are…
Meat-Puppet 2: Durr. Hurty.
Vespers: And our skinless corpse friend gets to his feet, and… rams his head into the Undietaker’s stomach? How stupid is that fellow?
[Cut to Styles, being thrown back and forth across a volleyball net.]
Styles: Oh… *WHOOSH!* My… *WHOOSH!* God!
[Back to the ring.]
MS: UNDIETAKER RIPS OFF THE LATEX! MEAT-PUPPET 2 IS ACTUALLY GBH!
SW: Yes, fans, one-time announcer GBH has stooped to working for Dimension Z! Undietaker is now pummeling the daylights out of him!
QM: Paradox, why did you hire that fool for the job?
Paradox: Viet Kong disappeared somewhere in Seoul, G. I. Slow turned me down, and frankly, I am not getting within fifty yards of Graphic Flatulence.
GR: One… two… three!
MA: Your winner, UNDDDDDIIIIIIEEETTTTTAAAAKKKKEE- *Gargle, gargle* RRRRRR!
Carlyle: And this match comes to a hasty conclusion, as GBH trips over his own feet and gets pinned!
Vespers: Ah, yes, and let us all praise Jabootu for that. Let us cut away before I lose my last shred of desire to live.
*Backstage, "Cap" Al Larry is running through the maze of hallways that make up the backstage area. His nemesis is unseen, but we can hear a clinking noise following Larry through the halls. Larry stumbles and falls, and the camera rotates with him, showing he is being followed… by a pile of silverware. The silverware jumps upon him, and the screen turns red as we hear him scream.*
[Cut to a few minutes later, as the silverware forms a human shape while standing over Larry’s body. A man in a lab coat walks up to it.]
Lab-Coated Man: Good work, Jardin. You’re ready for our match tonight.
*Back at the arena, Vespers is balancing on his seat, having hooked a very long rope to the lighting grid. He’s tying the other end into a noose.*
Vespers: While I’m preparing this, what’s the next match?
Carlyle: According to my card, it’s four members of the sWo vs. the Zukuka War Force. But I understand there’s a slight problem…
[The camera moves to backstage, in a smoke-filled room, as Russo and Sir Zeno sit across from each other.]
Russo: Listen, asshole… My boys are NOT jobbing out there tonight. Like it or fuck yourself, I’m not letting them lose.
Zeno: How odd, considering I crushed Reeve a few months ago.
Russo: Yeah, but he’s gay.
Reeve: (From outside) I’m not gay!
Zeno: You do not have a choice, Russo. Reeve, Double Gay, Francis, and Hack Hokin are going to face the Zukuka War Force tonight, and they’re probably going to lose, shoot or work. Just face it.
Russo: How much do you want?
Zeno: Your money’s no good here. Should I call Ted Turner?
Russo: Fuck no! *Sigh* Fine. My boys are going out there…
[After a knock on the door, Mr. Paradox leans in.]
Paradox: Zeno? We’ve got another problem.
[They head into the hall, where four guys in matching armor are standing, arms crossed.]
Zeno: Ah, the Zukuka War Force themselves. What seems to be the problem?
Head Armor Guy: We just saw the script. You can forget it.
Zeno: …Are you serious? The money was already deposited in your accounts! You cannot pull out now!
Head Armor Guy: We discussed this. That was up-front, pending approval. We are NOT doing a match where the run-in is a man who speaks Pig Latin!
Zeno: I knew that would be a problem. How about Kevin the Pyromaniac?
*The War Force guys hiss.*
Head Armor Guy: You cannot have insulted us further! We leave!
[And so they do. Zeno shakes his head.]
Zeno: Damn it. Now what?
Paradox: Didn’t the sWo get fired a while back, anyway?
Zeno: …by Jove, you’re right.
[The camera heads back to the arena, where a Titantron has descended into view.]
Carlyle: The trouble with delayed PPVs! We are now going live to Mexico, where the Death Surgery Match between SMP and Dr. Thrilla is already underway!
NH: Son of a…
*The screen now shows a rooftop, somewhere in Mexico, where Sillicone M. Plants is facing down the only man worse at surgery than him. Plants has a scalpel, while Dr. Thrilla has a… sock with a brick in it.*
Carlyle: And that’s Dimension Z’s own Dr. Thrilla. Look at him! Skin like reconstructive putty… Teeth like a bear trap…
SW: Taking a closer look, his teeth really ARE a bear trap!
Carlyle: Ah, yes, forgot that.
Vespers: For those of you who aren’t "in the know", the goal of a Death Surgery Match is to perform a surgical procedure on your opponent that maims, humiliates, or otherwise ruins them without killing them. This match is a personal favorite of Dr. Thrilla, as he is not licensed to perform surgery anywhere else.
NH: Where’d he get his degree?
Vespers: The University of Coma.
*Cut to a distant star system.*
Ominous Voce: POINK!
*Cut back to the Death Surgery Match.*
MS: TRIPLE-SCALPEL THRUST!
SW: And Dr. Thrilla is bleeding! Judging from his attacks, SMP is trying to replace Thrilla’s stomach with that carburetor on the edge of the roof! God only knows what Thrilla is trying to do… OOH! A nasty bite forces SMP to pull his scalpel arm back!
NH: I know I’m supposed to be impartial, but… KICK HIS ASS, THRILLA!
Carlyle: Thrilla brings the sock-brick around and… just barely misses SMP! Now SMP grabs Thrilla’s arm… Armbreaker! Thrilla’s down and getting stomped, and SMP kicks him over…
MS: SOCK-BRICK TO THE HEAD! SMP IS DOWN!
Vespers: And now Thrilla is beginning his surgery. And he’s… removing SMP’s pants. Please, gods, don’t let him do what I think he’s trying to do…
SW: All males in the audience may want to look away at this point. He’s got "them"… he’s got a pair of gardening shears…
*SNIP! And now the sound of everything remotely male in the arena crossing their limbs.*
MS: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, SILLICONE M. PLANTS IS NO LONGER A FUNCTIONING MALE!
SW: Heidi, you okay? You’re turning all red. Maybe we should cut away…
NH: Do and I’ll rip your goddamn throat out!
Carlyle: Now Dr. Thrilla has a power drill… He’s drilling a hole in SMP’s crotch! Now he’s lining the hole with… with…
Vespers: With what used to be the skin of SMP’s penis. Excuse me… *THWIK (The noose tightening, in case you didn’t know.)*
SW: Now Thrilla’s pulled up Plant’s shirt… He’s made two incisions on his chest! And from his pockets he pulls… Appropriately enough, silicone breast implants! He shoves them in, staples the skin shut…
Carlyle: GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY, SILLICONE M. PLANTS IS NOW A WOMAN!
NH: Shit, YESSSSSSSSSSSS! *THUMP*
SW: Folks, I think Nurse Heidi just had an orgasm! She’s definitely unconscious…
SW: And thank God, it’s over! That definitely fit the requirements for this match, so Dr. Thrilla is the victor!
Vespers: Damn it… Either way, Sillicone M. Plants… or is it Silliconnie now? Either way, she comes to.
SMP: What… what happened…
[She looks down.]
SMP: No… no… NO… NO! THRILLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
[The doctor is question just leapt through a mysterious portal. And the Titantron rises, causing the males in the audience to breathe sighs of relief…]
*Let’s cut back to the Fulcrum Crag caves, shall we? Mr. X is stalking through the tunnels, gun drawn. He spins around a corner, gun first.*
Mr. X: Who’s fuckin’ there?
[A severed hand crawls up, turning so its fingers face Mr. X.]
Mr. X: Is this a fuckin’ joke? Dance, motherfucker, dance!
*He begins shooting, causing bullets to ricochet around the cave walls. The hand jumps and skitters around, dodging every shot, before leaping out and grabbing Mr. X’s throat. It then slams Mr. X’s head into the stone repeatedly into the stone, before dragging him over to a pit and pushing him in…*
Hand: … (Heeheehee.)
[The hand scuttles over to Meat-Puppet, leaning around the corner. He takes it, sneaks out of view, and then clambers away.]
*And we cut back to the arena…*
[Okay, fucker, that’s it!]
*Oh, what is it now?*
[I am SICK of you doing my job!]
*We’ve discussed this, you know. I’ve done this job for years in Dimension Z. Hell, I’m an independent contractor for your squad.*
[But who said YOU could do the detached narration? That’s my line! I’M THE DETACHED NARRATOR, DAMMIT!]
*It’s mine, as well. We’ll settle this the old-fashioned way. Cut to the ring.*
SW: GOOD LORD! I think the Action Asterisks Guy and the Detached Narrator are about to throw down!
Vespers: Ah, the Action Asterisks Guy… One of the few people who has a trailer for his ego.
MCT: TAKE IT OUTSIDE, YOU TWO.
[Dad? Dad? Okay, looks like I’m in charge. Shane here.]
*And Dean here for the action asterisks.*
Zeno: Continue the matches, now!
MA: This match is a tag-team match, scheduled for one fall. Now making their way to the ring, representing BOB, Dr. Azathoth and Atomo the Living Robot!
[Styx’s "Mr. Roboto" plays as the doctor hurriedly crosses to the ring, followed by his robot. He doesn’t look happy to be here.]
MA: And representing Dimension Z… From beyond Innerspace… Dr. Meyers and Jardin!
[White Zombie’s "More Human Than Human" plays, and a man in a labcoat enters the ring, carrying a briefcase. He opens the case, and out pours a pile of kitchen utensils. They reform into one creature, which is a man made out of silverware. The silverware creature raises a hand, getting it a massive pop.]
Dr. Azathoth: Wait a minute… Meyers?
Dr. Meyers: Azathoth!
Atomo: UNIT: MEYERS!
Atomo: UNIT: MEYERS!
Atomo: UNIT: MEYERS!
Atomo: UNIT: MEYERS!
Atomo: UNIT: MEYERS!
NH: Quit it!
Vespers: Ladies and gentlemen, the preceding was a reference required by interdimensional law.
Meyers: Well, if it isn’t my old rival… I see you’ve managed to build a functioning robot, after all.
Azathoth: Indeed. And I see the plans for a utensil-bot weren’t insane after all.
Meyers: Oh, they were. But insanity is appreciated here.
SW: And Azathoth and Meyers are the starting men in this match!
Meyers: Hmm, looks like we’ll have to cut the conversation short today. HUYAH!
SW: And a punishing right to the gut from Meyers! He grabs Azathoth’s neck… Inverted Scabby Eggplant! And now he delivers a legdrop!
Carlyle: Azathoth’s up and groggy… Oooh! Meyers grabs his arm and hits him with a judo throw!
Meyers: And you MOCKED my study of the martial arts! I’m showing you… I’M SHOWING YOU!
NH: Is it just me, or is Jardin missing one of his fingers?
MS: A KNIFE-HAND CHOP! AZATHOTH IS BUSTED WIDE OPEN!
NH: Ah, now I see.
Vespers: The old rule still holds: blade any way you can. Azathoth now tags in Atomo, while Meyers plugs Jardin’s finger back in and tags out.
Carlyle: And Atomo is raked down the sides, destroying his paint job utterly! He manages to land a chop… OH! Spanish takedown from Jardin! Atomo’s getting his shiny metal ass kicked!
SW: Atomo’s back on his feet… Dropkick to Jardin, but the robot didn’t even feel it! Jardin climbs the ropes… Frog splash to Atomo! And… Good gravy!
MS: ATOMO’S A LIVING PINCUSHION!
Meyers: Yes, my creation! Take him down – CARVE OUT HIS CORE!
Zeno: This is looking bad… We need a run-in, but Nucleo’s not back from the caves yet.
QM: Doesn’t Azathoth have another robot?
Zeno: Considering how Paradox feels about her, it’s risky, but here goes.
["Ugly as a Stump" by They Who Scorch the Sky (Dimension Z’s best industrial-thrash band) plays as a hideous woman enters the ring.]
SW: Great Helga is in the ring, and she’s trampling Jardin’s component utensils underfoot! They reform, and it is NOT in a good mood! She goes flying over the top rope!
Paradox: Son of a BITCH!
Zeno: Paradox, I demand that you put away the grenade!
Paradox: When did I get back on your payroll?
Carlyle: Duck and cover!
Vespers: The smoke is clearing… and Jardin’s utensils have taken a direct hit. All that’s left is one butter knife and smoking metal.
Meyers: NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Paradox, I swear I shall get my revenge!
Azathoth: Can the dramatics, Meyer. This is exactly why they turned you down for "Shoggoth on the Roof".
SW: Atomo covers the butter knife… 1, 2, 3, and it’s over!
MA: The winners, Dr. Azathoth and Atomo!
Vespers: Rejoice in the moment, my friends, that may be the only time you see Helga outside of the Rant Zone.
QM: What’s the next match?
[Sir Zeno is flipping through a thick telegram.]
Zeno: Bad news. Every other match we had planned involves wrestlers no longer with BOB. Damn the luck.
QM: So what’ll we do?
Zeno: Cut to the big finale, I guess. This show was getting long, anyway. But first…
*Cut back to the caves in the Fulcrum Crag. Justin Voss is making his way down a tunnel, anxiously looking around. Suddenly, Meat-Puppet falls from the ceiling, pinning Voss under himself. He drags the now-unconscious wrestler to a pitfall and drops him in.*
Britney Smears: Like, over here!
*The camera spins to reveal Britney Smears. Just as Meat-Puppet looks her way, she flashes him. He’s stunned just long enough for her to spear him and hook the leg. 1, 2, 3, and it’s over. Cut back to ringside.*
Zeno: Somebody remind us to pick her up after the show. Either way, it is time for our grand finale…
[There’s a zapping noise, and the screen goes blank… only for a black-canvassed ring to appear under a strong spotlight. Another spotlight turns on, revealing Vespers and Carlyle at a lone announcer’s table. From nowhere, the Masked Announcer appears in the ring.]
MA: This is the "Trial of BOB", the last chance BOB Wrestling has to redeem itself! First, representing BOB… Scotty Whatbody! Mark Shill! Nurse Heidi! Coma! Steve Studnuts! Christina Gaguilara! Pope John Paul II! Kamikaze Ken! Annnnnndddddd… Death!
[The thusly-named announcers and wrestlers approach the ring with little fanfare. Death is the only one to actually step in; everyone else splits up, four for a side.]
SW: Can somebody tell me why we’re actually being made to wrestle?
Vespers: Because as the voices behind BOB, you’re the heart and soul of the federation. And BigBOSS is still under the Heavy Lourde.
NH: I guess it’s better than being in another chocolate pudding match.
MA: And representing the forces of Dimension Z… Queen Mylisiv!
["Toxic" begins playing as the blue-skinned woman in red struts her way to the ring. Testing the ropes, she effortlessly flings herself over them, dusting off her hands. There is a massive pop.]
MA: Mr. Paradox!
["Are We Ourselves" (the other big song by the Fixx) starts up, and a wooden post falls into the ring, barely missing Death. Striding into the ring slowly and confidently, Mr. Paradox front-rolls under the bottom rope, jumping to his feet. He draws his sword, measures up the post, and then slashes twice before putting the blade away. The post collapses in three clean sections, and he steps onto the edge of the mat. Cue another massive pop.]
MA: Aaaaannnnddddd… the ruler of Dimension Z… SSSSSIRRRRRRR ZEEEEENNNNOOO!
[Prodigy’s "Narayan" starts up, as Sir Zeno strides calmly down the aisle. He stops halfway down and raises a hand. A purely ridiculous amount of pop is granted him, and he finishes the trip down the aisle… And I’m taking this back. Thanks for filling in, Shane.]
*Say, where’s my dad…?*
[Cut to a locked safe at the bottom of the Atlantic. In it is a small tape recorder, inside which is a tape with the Action Asterisks Guy on it.]
MA: The rules are simple. It’s an elimination match – you get pinned or you submit, you’re gone. The last side with wrestlers left is the victor. And I’m gone!
Vespers: The Masked Announcer flees, and it’s Death versus Queen Mylisiv for the start. Death moves in for the Touch of Death, hits it… and Queen Mylisiv no-sells. He tries again, and still no reaction.
QM: Nice try. But Dimension Z has its own Death. You’re nothing here.
*Cut to the bleachers, off in the shadows. Another Death is sitting in the crowd, eating popcorn. He turns to the camera.*
DZ Death: Hi, forces of the universe!
[Back to the ring.]
Carlyle: OHHHH! Queen Mylisiv yanks Death’s head off his neck bones and dropkicks it into the stands! Now a sideslip, a spinning drop, and… that’s the three-count! Death is gone!
*Death’s head lands next to the Dimension Z Death.*
Death: I hate you, anthropomorphic personification of this universe.
DZ Death: Hey, I’m just doing my job, just like you.
*Death vanishes in a cloud of smoke.*
GR: Okay, BOB side, pick your next contestant. Dimension Z side, you too.
Vespers: The BOB team is huddled together, trying to choose someone who won’t get taken out five seconds after they get started. Dimension Z, meanwhile, switches out Mylisiv for Sir Zeno… And the BOB side has sent in Kamikaze Ken.
Carlyle: Ken’s going for a knee to the gut, only to get his leg grabbed! Two-limb suplex from Sir Zeno! Now an elbow drop into the prone Ken… but he rolls out of the way! Ken’s sliding out of the ring and going for a weapon! This is a no-DQ match, so it’s all well and good!
Vespers: Ken chooses a chair and climbs into the ring… and straight into a headlock from Sir Zeno. Zeno drags Ken from the ropes and continues to hold the move, but Ken refuses to tap in.
SW: Rest holds this early in the match? What’s he trying to do, extend an overlong PPV already?
Carlyle: Zeno hears that, and turns the headlock into a head-only airplane spin! A throw into the turnbuckles, and Zeno picks up the chair! He unfolds it! He sits down! He… takes out a nail file?
MS: KEN’S CHARGING!
SW: You aren’t an announcer right now! Let the instinct rest, man!
Carlyle: Zeno catches him with his feet and throws the chair back! Ken goes head-first into the turnbuckle… and if he’s getting up, there’s no justice in the world! Zeno pins him… and that’s the three-count, and it’s over! Kamikaze Ken is eliminated!
*Ken vanishes in a cloud of smoke. We’re not going to get elaborate about removing these guys, are we?*
Vespers: Now BOB is in a serious huddle, as this match is proving quite unfortunate for their side. They choose to send out Pope John Paul II, and Dimension Z sends in Mr. Paradox.
Carlyle: Will this match be any longer than the last two? Paradox draws his sword…
*SHNICKT! And cut to Styles being stretched back in a giant slingshot.*
Styles: OH… *Stretch* MY… *Stretch* GOD! *Thwoom!*
Carlyle: Huh. Guess not!
MS: PARADOX KILLS THE POPE! PARADOX KILLS THE POPE! PARADOX KILLS THE POPE!
(DISCLAIMER: The above was not meant in any way as a serious comment on the Catholic Church or its leadership. It was meant solely in jest, and we apologize if anyone was offended. Besides, we needed to get rid of the jobber.)
*The Pope, what’s left of him, vanishes in another puff of smoke. Paradox cleans off and sheathes his sword.*
GR: Damn… I’ll allow it, but watch it, Paradox.
Paradox: It’s no disqualification, what is there to watch?
GR: Point taken.
Vespers: And now another huddle takes place, and the BOB team chooses to send out Nurse Heidi. In response, Dimension Z sends Queen Mylisiv out to face her.
NH: You know, you’re a nice change from the rest of the female wrestlers in this federation.
QM: And it’s pleasant to see a woman on the announce team. Make no mistake, I fully intend to feed you your own eyeballs.
NH: Just try it without any fingers. Bring it.
Carlyle: And there they go! Both women grab each other’s throat… and Zeno snaps his fingers, and it’s an all-out cartoon-style rumble! The whirling cloud of dust representing our two fighters moves around the ring… I can’t make much out, but I think Mylisiv’s got the upper hand…
Vespers: The cloud vanishes, and that’s twenty dollars you owe me. Heidi has Mylisiv in what appears to be a triple joint lock. And… the queen taps out. It’s 3-1, Dimension Z’s favor.
[Queen Mylisiv disappears with a crackle of electricity. Guess Dimension Z saved all the money in the effects budget for their side.]
Vespers: Hmmm… Nurse Heidi has switched out in favor of Christina Gaguilara, and Mr. Paradox steps in for Dimension Z.
Paradox: Do you have any idea how much suffering I owe you?
CG: What did I ever do to you, man?
Paradox: It seems that every time I turn on the radio anymore, one of your songs or a similar tune is on. You ruined FM radio for me! And now I’ll take it out on you, personally…
Carlyle: A gut punch from Paradox, and Gaguilara is out for a moment! Couldn’t even see it coming! Clothesline from Paradox, and she’s out of the ring! Paradox goes under the bottom rope, whistles, and… is that what I think it is?!?
Vespers: A return of an old Dimension Z favorite… the Chair of Many Pains. There’s an iPod hooked to the armrest today. Paradox forces Gaguilara into the chair and straps her down… now he sticks the headphones from the iPod into her ears…
Paradox: Behold… the worst music ever recorded by man! I give you… an endless loop of "Tenderness" by General Public!
Carlyle: Paradox hits the play button on the iPod, and the song starts… And Christina is crying already! Five seconds and she taps out on the armrest! This round’s over, and Paradox is back in the ring!
*Christina and the chair both vanish in, once more, a cloud of smoke.*
Vespers: 4-1, Dimension Z. Now BOB sends out Mark Shill, while Sir Zeno switches with Mr. Paradox.
SW: This will be a short fight…
Carlyle: Chop to the chest! Flying body attack! Double-arm takedown! Shill hasn’t even gotten a move in!
MS: THIS IS THE WORST BEATING IN THE HISTORY OF MARK SHILL’S LIFE!
Carlyle: And Zeno hits the Eternal Question! 1, 2, 3, it’s over! That’s 5-1 for Dimension Z!
*And with yet another cloud of smoke, Mark Shill vanishes from the ring.*
NH: So, who’s next?
SS: Let me in. Ain’t gonna even be a problem to take out that Parasox fucker.
Vespers: And it’s Studnuts against Paradox. Paradox whistles in Generic Ref’s ear…
GR: The following bout will be conducted under "Ripping Off Kurosawa" rules! The first person to lose their weapon will be defeated!
SS: The fuck? I don’t even have a sword!
Paradox: I know. Catch.
Vespers: I don’t know where he got it from, but Paradox tosses Studnuts another blade before drawing his own.
Paradox: En guarde.
[Do you really think we have time to describe the ensuing fight? Imagine your favorite sword battle… I personally suggest the final showdown from The Seven Samurai… and insert Studnuts and Paradox for the combatants. There you go. The fight ends with Paradox knocking the sword from Studnuts’s hand and placing his to the other man’s neck.]
Paradox: Please. My dog fights better than you do.
SS: So, you into dogs and that shit?
Paradox: Shut up and die.
Carlyle: Paradox knocks Steve out with the flat of his sword! Boot on the chest… and it’s over! 6-1 to Dimension Z!
*And as with everyone else so far, Studnuts vanishes in a cloud of smoke. No, I have no idea where we’re getting all the smoke from.*
Vespers: Now it’s Coma against… Huh. Mr. Paradox is waving Sir Zeno back. Apparently he wants this one for himself. Coma picks up… a cardboard tube.
Paradox: You must be kidding me. A cardboard tube samurai? Go ahead. Take your best shot.
Carlyle: A headshot from Coma, and Paradox is down! Coma takes the tube away… and there was an iron pipe in it!
Carlyle: He goes for the pin… 1! 2! 3! And the score is 6-2!
[Mr. Paradox wavers and vanishes.]
Vespers: Sir Zeno steps into the ring… He grabs Coma and performs a suplex. Three-count, and it’s now 7-2.
SW: Who’s next?
NH: Let me handle this. There should be at least one match in this screwjob that takes more than three minutes.
Carlyle: Nurse Heidi steps into the ring… and Sir Zeno catches her coming through the ropes! Bodyslam! There’s the pin… Generic Ref makes the count! It’s over! 8-2, Dimension Z!
NH: You’re a louse, Sir Zeno.
Zeno: Heh. Never had a human woman call me that before.
*Nurse Heidi disappears in what might be the last cloud of smoke tonight.*
Vespers: This is it. The last battle… Scotty Whatbody against Sir Zeno.
Carlyle: Don’t wanna be biased, but I have to say, I think BOB’s finished!
SW: So… am I gonna die?
Zeno: Most likely. Wait… do you hear a whooshing noise?
SW: Yeah. What is that?
*Both men do.*
Zeno: I am so going to kill Marion for this…
[That whooshing noise is Unit-5, rocketing over the ring with the aid of its "Crotch Rocket". Said rocket cuts out just as he gets over Sir Zeno. Zeno looks to Scotty Whatbody.]
Zeno: I’ve always hated you.
Carlyle: AND ZENO IS DOWN! Whatbody pushes the washing machine off of Zeno… 1! 2!
MA: The winners, by a score of 3 to 8… BBBBBBBBBBB! OOOOOOOOOO! BBBBBBBBBBB!
Carlyle: And here’s the Man Called True, hovering over the ring!
MCT: DAMN. MY BOOKIE WILL KILL ME FOR THIS. VERY WELL… BOB MAY CONTINUE, ALTHOUGH HOW LONG IT’LL KEEP GOING ON ITS BUDGET IS A QUESTION. NOW… GET OUT!
[We fade out, and now it’s back to the house show where this whole mess started. Except that while we were away, the fans all left… no big loss. BigBOSS has managed to wiggle out from under the Heavy Lourde somehow, and seems none the worse for wear. I wonder where you learn to no-sell a heavy weight.]
SW: That… was weird.
NH: Still, at least we’re still employed.
SW: If you call this "employment", then yes.
MS: IT WAS THE WEIRDEST THING TO HAPPEN IN THE HISTORY OF BOB!
NH: Debatable. Highly debatable.
BigBOSS: Anyone seen Unit-5?
[Cut to backstage.]
[And finally, cut to Unit-5 rocketing its way down a deserted road. It’s found its way onto a trolley, and as "Born Free" plays in the background, it heads off into the sunset. Fade to black.]
© 2005 BOB Wrestling. Surreality is reality.