HARDXCORE POLARVIZION: THE LAST ONE?!
This episode funded in part by the estate of Silaconne M. Plants. (Nurse Heidi is the one on the right
[The camera pans the interior of the Eubanks Nature Lodge in beautiful, downtown Yellowstone National Park. The entire would-be audience, most of whom are Asian, are waiting in line to buy souvenirs. Unfortunately, they're not BOB souvenirs. The BOB pyro guys line up in front of the camera, point their flashlights at the screen, and click them on and off repeatedly. One of them holds up an envelope (probably from another creditor) with the letters "B-O-B" written in magic marker.]
Nurse Heidi: Are we on?
Mike Monroe: Uh, yeah. Uhmm.
NH: I guess one of us should make an announcement then, and tell the fans the show's started.
Scotty Whatbody: Maybe you should start by telling them that we're actually having "A" show.
[Nurse Heidi steps into the ring and holds up a megaphone.]
NH: Uh, excuse me, please. Ladies and gentlemen, if you would direct your attention over here. It is NOW time for BOB! HARDCORE! polarvizion. So, have a seat if you please, and enjoy the action!
[The crowd just stands there blinking at her.]
NH: Uh, don't be shy, people. We set up chairs for you and everything. We're putting on a wrestling show tonight. You know. Like the WWF?
Audience member: Ahh, WWF-meibutsu.
Other audience member: Oh, Dufyu-Dufyu-eff. Taiju-gaijin!
[Suddenly the entire audience collectively points their cameras at the ring and start snapping photos like crazy.]
SW: Good, now that the fans are filing in, we can get right to business. Uh, wait a second. Why am I here? Where's Billy Polar?
MM: Probably sleeping in again. Somebody should call him.
SW: Yes. Somebody should.
MM: Alright! Fine.
[As Monroe starts dialing up Billy on his cellphone, the camera cuts to Billy's hotel room, where Billy is indeed in bed. And he's not alone.]
BP: Uhh, Lolita, Lolita. Umm. WHY are you licking my nipples? I should be licking YOUR nipples. I mean, it would work so much better for me that way.
Lolita: Hmmm? Aqui? Billy, I no suck your nippos.
[Billy then pulls up the covers to reveal Li'l Peppy]
BP: What the-? Ohmigod, PEPPY! YOU'RE BACK! Heh heh. You little scamp! Uhh, what-what the hell are you doing?
LP: Eh-HEEHEEHEE. I vwas just funnink wis' djou, esSAY!
BP: Oh. (he frowns for a second and then starts laughing) Heh heh! Yeah! Good one, Pepster! [They high five as the phone rings. Billy rolls over Lolita to answer it.]
BP: The King of All Media here. You may now speak. Mike? What's going on? Polarvizion? That was THIS month?! Okay, okay, I'll be right there. Hey, Lolita, throw me my good pants!
[The camera shows Lolita walking to the closet. Peppy is standing right beside her. She appears to be naked, but the camera is only showing her from the mid-thighs down. Peppy is staring up at her in glee.]
LP: Eh-HEEHEEHEE. Vwork it baybee, ayeee-hah!!
[He tries to jump up to slap her on the ass, but he can't quite reach it. He settles for slapping her calf. Billy, meanwhile, is high-tailing it out the door.]
BP: Come on, Peppy! We've got a show to do!
[The camera cuts back to Mike Monroe.]
MM: Wow, fans. I gotta tell ya. We actually have a good show lined up for you tonight. That is, if you're actually watching.... And it's on Billy's show of all places! Yes, you got that right. I said "good" and "show". I guess it makes sense since we need to build up some momentum, because this is the last card until.....until.....(he starts leafing through his notes)uhhhhh....hmm....
SW: I guess it's not important, Mike. LET'S START THIS MOTHER OFF ALREADY! With a squash match.
[The crowd claps politely. Suddenly, sounds of someone snoring loudly, followed by a jackhammer, with recorded telephone company messages and someone repeatedly banging two cymbals together blaring in the background. The RTS makes its way to the ring and X-Machine grabs the mic.]
XXXTreme Machine: Yro gdodmaned rigth we sukj!
NH: No arguments there, guy.
XTM: Yu no, sinse I scuk so badd, I hvae dedicded that my cloo-as namne iz to col fro me. I wlil noew chnage my naame to Sux-macine so tat anutter, beter/ resler can hav my tit-ass na,m=!
SW: No, really, that's alright. You can keep it. Really. I'm sure I speak for everybody when I say that.
XTM: So! Hoo wil fase th chalnege an stepup tonyte>? Wo thnks thy can wni our muney$$$? Any tackeers?
SW: Hey Mike, you suck, right? So go on up there and shut these guys up so we can get on with the show already!
MM: Sorry. I'm just not brave enough to go up there and get beaten by those feebs on national television. I've got my ring reputation to protect.
NH: But you've never even been in the ring....
[Suddenly, they are cut off by the theme song to "Sanford and Son". The crowd starts taking pictures like crazy. No one seems to be cheering, so I guess the cheering was part of B.F. Sack's theme music all along. Figures.]
MM: I don't believe it! It's B.F. Sack!! Alright! The Sack is back and on the attack, so watch your back, Zack, 'cause that's a fact, Jack, or my name isn't...uhhh....Mike!
NH: What was that, Mike? I didn't catch that. I didn't catch any of that.
MM: Nothing. Nevermind....
SW: Man, what's HE doing here?
XTM: ALl RIUTE!! Hay, gyus@! we getta kicjk B.F/Suvk's ASSX~!
Insano Mano: Stope right there, white gringo! Now leesen, Seenyor Sack! We haf come for the money, esse`. Eet eez our dinero.
MM: It's Insano Mano and Kamikaze Ken! What're THEY doing here?
SW: I'm afraid only a psychiatrist can answer that one, Mike. Those BOB paychecks just ain't what they used to be.
XTM: Now, mow, now. evrebody sux her. Ther iz no ned 4 fiting. Y dont we hav a 6mna tag mach?
[Suddenly Billy comes running into the camera. He grabs the mic as the Fire Chief, thinking he's come for the money, starts pounding away on Polar's back, but Billy just ignores him.]
BP: Hey, so what's going on? Did I miss anything?
NH: Wow, look at Fire Chief go! I don't believe it! Nothing stops Billy when he starts talking!
BP: The show's already started, so why isn't there any wrestling? Hey, you six guys. Get in the ring and do something!
MM: Well, fans. It looks to be B.F. Sack and the Hardcore Luchadors versus, uhhh, the newly-named Sux Machine, the Fire Chief, and...who's that guy?
BP: (joining everyone at the announce table) Why, that's the Snapmare Kid. He's been in training for a week now and this is his first ever match. You are seeing the future of this business, Mike. It's right there.
MM: Hmm. Anyway, fans, as you know, the object of any RTS match is to LOSE. Whoever finally does lose to these, well I'll just say it, "suckmoids"! Whoever loses to them gets $5000!!
SW: BUT. But, Mike. There's a "but".
MM: I know, Scotty. Even though this sounds pretty simple, fans, keep in mind that no one's been able to do it yet. NO ONE has been able to lose to the Rite To Suck. No one's even been able to come CLOSE to losing to them.
NH: Hey, why isn't StreetMime fighting?
BP: Oh, he will be later tonight. He'll be taking on the Violent Pacifist for the Swiss Army strap!!
NH: WHOA! But it's StreetMime. Why?
BP: Hey, he's really hung in there over the years and finally his ungodly number of losses arithmetically rounded up to one win, making him eligible for a title shot here in BOB.
NH: How is that mathematically possible?
BP: Hey, I've been to Harvard. We learn a different kind of math than you normal people. Our math is better. It transcends, Heidi. It transcends.
MM: Sack now locking up with Sux-Machine....lifts him up....SACKHAMMER!! SACKHAMMER ALREADY!! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!! He's going for the pin!
SW: What the-? Members of both teams just ran in to break up the count!
MM: Sack now staring at Insano Mano in anger. He's lifting his finger! HE'S WAGGING HIS FINGER!!
SW: Geez! Calm down, will ya! This is an RTS match for crying out loud!
NH: Uhhh, Mike? What the heck is that?
MM: Oh, this? THIS is the brand-new BOB Official B.F. Sack Foam Scrotum(TM)! On sale NOW at BOB souvenir stands everywhere around Blaine County, Idaho! What? He's my favorite wrestler, alright? I love the Sackster!!
NH: Machine now able to stumble to his corner, and he tagged in the Kid!
MM: I wonder just how the Snapmare Kid will fare against one of the all-time greats in this biz. It's the Snapmare versus the SackHammer! Let's see who will prevail!!
SW: Wow. Sack just bitch-slapped him upside the head and the Kid went down. Not a good sign.
MM: Sack now helps him to his feet...there's the collar-and-elbow....standing switch and now Sack is behind him....SNAPMARE!!
BP: The Kid caught him out of nowhere! OH!! And boy, that was close! Sack barely kicked out....at one.
NH: Yeah, but Sack's a little dazed, though. Those RTS boys're taking him somewhat out of his element, it seems.
SW: Yup! This ain't the retirement home no more, is it Sack! Give it up before you have to get ANOTHER plastic hip!
MM: Shut up! B.F. Sack is not old! He's at least five years younger than the Tiger at any rate. Whoa, look out fans! Snapmare Kid with another snapmare! And another! And another! My God, he's crippling him!
NH: My God, is that all he can DO?!
BP: Well, we were teaching him the hip toss, but he hasn't mastered that yet and we don't want him to look sloppy on TV....
MM: Yes! B.F. blocked that snapmare and now he's got the Kid in a sleeper. That'll slow him down.
NH: Snapmare Kid shaking his fists....he's trying to build up momentum.....he's making it to his feet and OH! He got out of it with, you guessed it, a snapmare.
MM: Sack now disoriented and he makes the tag to Kamikaze Ken.
SW: Disoriented, Mike? Try senile. Go over there and talk to him. I bet he thinks you're his mother or something.
BP: So? What's wrong with that? Ken jumps in with a slingshot headbutt!
NH: WHOA!! I think Commissioner VP should make a ruling on whether or not Kamikaze Ken should be allowed to wear that motorcycle helmet in the ring. That's dangerous!
SW: What are you talking about? That thing could save his life, Heidi. What do you have against protection?
BP: Apparently a lot, Miss I-Gave-My-Unwanted-Baby-Up-For-Adoption!
NH: For the last time, I WAS NEVER PREGNANT!! You better be careful, Polar. YOU'RE not wearing a helmet....
MM: Can we get back to the match, please? Ken runs to the ropes again, flying elbow! Ken to the ropes again, flying hair pull! Ouch!
SW: Now the King of the Crash Landing is on the top rope! What's he gonna try now?! Will it be his infamous flying corkscrew cobra clutch/flapjack combination into a standing moonsault that we all know and love so well? HE LEAPS!!
NH: What the-? A flying abdominal stretch? Well....uh, I guess we've certainly never seen that before.
BP: It looks like the Kid's about to submit! But Kenneth broke the hold just in time. That was a close one. The Hardcore Luchador's gotta be more careful in there. He nearly won this thing.
NH: He certainly doesn't want to do that. Not with 5000 dollars at stake.
SW: Yeah, plus they're Mexican. They REALLY need the money.
BP: Heh heh. You're not kidding!
MM: Why me? Ladies and gentlemen, the views expressed by Scotty Whatbody and Billy Polar are not indicative of the rest of the BOB staff. They're just a-holes.
NH: Or "travajos" to our Mexican fans.
BP: Travajo? I always thought that meant "nice hair". Huh.
NH: And besides, Kamikaze Ken's from Georgia!
BP: So? They're both third world countries....
NH: Georgia the STATE!
BP: Yeah, I know. What'd you think I was talking about?
MM: And now, fans, the most experienced suicide artist in the world has just lifted the Snapmare Kid to his feet. Russian legsweep!
NH: And now he's going for the pin! No wait, he's just lying down, and now he's pulling the Kid over on top of him! The ref is counting! 1--2--
SW: NOOO!!! This could've been over already!
MM: Fans, B.F. Sack just broke up the count. I'm not sure if he realizes what's at stake here....
SW: I'm not sure if he realizes anything at all. He's older than Captain Twilight!
BP: Heh heh. I wouldn't doubt it. And I bet he still has a driver's license, too. I hate old people who drive.
MM: Oh come on! He's in his thirties, you jerks!
BP: Really. Wow. He must be a smoker.
NH: Look, can we get back to the match? Kamikaze Ken to the ropes now....wow.....what was THAT?
MM: Well, it looked like, I guess, a flying eye rake. Snapmare's writhing in pain on the mat now.
BP: You see, that's why it pays to wear glasses. The girlies love the glasses.
NH: Yeah. Just keep telling yourself that. Whoa! Kamikaze now with a flying somersault lariat!! Wow!
MM: The Kid's not gonna get up from that one! But what's this? Ken's helping him up and dusting him off? Now, he's supporting his shoulder and walking him over to his corner to tag in the Fire Chief. Uh-hum.
SW: It looks like this match might go awhile, folks. The RTS can't win and the Luchadors WON'T win, so, we gotta do something before the crowd grows stale. Hey, Billy. This is your show, right? Think you can get Heidi to flash the crowd?
BP: I don't know. Maybe in post-production.....
NH: Don't even think about it! Fire Chief with a tomahawk chop to Ken's helmet. Big mistake!
MM: Ooh. Fire Chief's grabbing his hand like it's broken. And now he's on his hands and knees and is screaming at the ref!
BP: Maybe he's giving up.
SW: Yeah, that's it! Only the ref can't understand casino-speak!
MM: And now Kamikaze Ken's offering him a--uh---heheh--a Vicodin, it seems. Uhm, fans, let it be known that BOB does not condone the illegal use or distribution of prescription drugs.
BP: Then why'd you say the V word, moron? Uh, that wasn't a Vicodin, that was a Certs. You know, the Fire Chief just has bad breath from all that fire-water he drinks on the res-lands and stuff. You know.
NH: Yikes. I'm not touching that one....
MM: #sigh# Ladies and gentlemen, the opinions expressed by Billy Polar or anyone else are not necessarily those of the--
NH: OHMIGOD! It looks like Sack's had enough! He just tagged himself in by clotheslining Kamikaze Ken!
MM: YES! Look out, world! The Sackmaster's in the ring! He's Sack-STREME!! Fire Chief is about to get Sacktified! Heh heh. He's just sack-tastic!
SW: Wow, Mike. Or should I say, Mark. I never knew you were a fan of the Sack.
MM: Oh, of course.
SW: Hee hee. So, you're saying you like sacks?
MM: What? No! Just what do you take me for?
SW: Heidi? Nevermind. What about you, Billy? Do you like sacks?
BP: (nodding off) Huh? What? Hell yeah, I like it! I get it whenever I can. I am, what J.R. would call, a studly young buck, after all.
NH: Well, fans, to get back to the match, B.F. Sack is just pummeling the heck out of the Fire Chief in the corner.
SW: Not very sportsman-like wrestling from a fan favorite, ey Mike?
MM: Shut up.
BP: Now, now, Scotty. I'm sure those are perfectly legal Greco-Roman footstomps to the face. The Sackman is a great wrestler.
MM: Damn straight!
NH: Uh-oh. It looks like Insano Mano and Kamikaze Ken don't know what to do now. They're looking pretty nervous. Oh no, they both left the ring apron and it looks like they're going for some chairs!
SW: YES! I love it when good wrestlers go bad! Wait, no. Or is that when college girls go wild? Oh, who cares. It's one of the two.
MM: Oh no! Look out, B.F.!! Behind you!
NH: Mano and Kenny both in the ring with a chair. It looks like they're going for a con-chair-to! And whoa! Sack just put both of his arms out and blocked both chairshots! My he has big hands. Mmmmm....
BP: So? Anyway, it looks like Sack's got one of the chairs and he just nailed Crazy Hands! And, look! OHMIGOD!
BP & SW simultaneously: THEY KILLED KENNY!! You bastards!
BP: Heh heh heh.
SW: (wiping the tears out of his eyes) MAN, that is funny!
BP: Yeah. That NEVER gets old! Ha ha HAAAAA!
NH: (rolling her eyes) Well, it looks like B.F.'s not done yet.
MM: And it looks like Sack just cracked the Chief's head open with the chair and the ref is calling for the bell. I can't believe it! He.......lost. Why, Sack? WHY?!
BP: That poor Indian. Well, I guess the oppression of his brave people continues even to this very day....
SW: YES!! This match is over! WHOOOO!! And look, now the Fire Chief's crying.
BP: A crying Indian. You know, you hate to see it, even on that old commercial when somebody littered on their land. Anyway, I guess we would cry too if we were suddenly out 5000 big ones. Hell, with what BOB pays, I'd cry if I were out FIVE bucks.
NH: Sux Machine in the ring now with the money. It looks like he's going to present it to Sack. And now B.F. Sack has a B. F. sack of money, too! And Sux Machine shakes his hand. He's got a mic.
Sux Machine: wel, wew didi t, Sakl! we finely bet u. You cnat deni it noaw! We aer winers! Yah us! Are wurk hrer iz don! Now qwe cna step asid an desind int o medeocridity.
BP: What does he mean, "descend"?
[Suddenly the Fire Chief nails B.F. Sack from behind with a chair.]
MM: Whoa! You SEE?! That's why he's a superstar! That chairshot didn't even faze him! And now Sack with a double-leg takedown and he's about to lock in the Domino Effect! He's got it on! Wow, will you look at the Fire Chief's knees bend like that!? Isn't that incredible?
BP: Yeah, because you never see knees bend anymore. What the hell? THAT'S the Domino Effect? THAT'S the deadliest submission hold in the history of the sport? Gimme a break.
SW: Hey, and speaking of breaks, we need to take one.
(An empty hotel room can be seen with some cheesy porno music playing in the background. Suddenly, a couple bursts through the door. They are ferociously making out and the guy literally has to try and walk with the woman's legs wrapped around his.)
Girl: Oh, Jan. I need you. I want you right now! Do me!
Guy: Ho, yes. I am having the very happy feelings for you, Hot American Woman! You are my best, how you say, birch? You are being the one very fine baby. Yes, we must doing it soon. Ohk, no. (he slaps his head) I am having, what is word, forgotting? I have for to forgotting. We are no have--have--
Girl: (looking annoyed) Protection?
Guy: Yes, this is it.
(Suddenly some guy in a red, white, and blue singlet jumps through the window.)
KA: Never fear! The All-American Brand Condom Guy is here!
Guy: (looking surprised and startled) Ohhhkh-hello.
KA: Hi! My name's Kurt Angel. Being earthbound humans, you might not have heard of me before. But so what? If you've got a hot date, I'll always be there. (points to the camera and winks) For you. Introducing the new All-American Brand condoms(TM). Good enough for God. Good enough for you. They just don't solve the problem of unwanted pregnancy. They work to prevent it. With our new super-acidic condoms, our patented formula penetrates your penis and works to actually LOWER your sperm count from the inside. That's right, I said "lower"! Let's face it, people. These days, love costs. Let's save our country some welfare money and stay protected, alright? Besides, you can't win a Gold Medal if you don't protect yourself. That's All-American Brand condoms. Don't tap any bitches without one!
Guy: Ohhk, thanks Mr. American Condom Man. Ohhhhhk. I am to owing you one.
(A creeking bed can be heard as the camera focuses in on Kurt Angel. He is watching the proceedings with a confused look on his face.)
KA: Golly, you don't see THAT in heaven....
Guy: Oh, ja, baby. OOOh-hoh-hooooo! You have the very big, what is the word, doggies? Czech plees!
MM: I can't believe it! Kurt Angle's doing commercials for BOB now?
SW: My how the mighty have fallen. What times we are a-livin' in.
NH: Kurt who?
BP: Get with the program, you guys. That wasn't Kurt Angle, that was Kurt Angel.
MM: Oh. Okay.
BP: Anyway, I have to go to the back now to prepare for my big match tonight.
SW: Go get 'em, Billy! You the man! The man with the plan! Stick it to those Canucks!
BP: I'll do that. Well, later then. I, Billy Polar, am taking my leave.
SW: Move it, Mike! (he makes Mike Monroe get out of his seat) Billy Polar coming through over here!
MM: Whatever. Well, folks, Billy Polar has left the broadcast area, but not the building, unfortunately. I bet he left because Commissioner VP's about to come out.
SW: Oh, please. Like anyone believes a word you say!
NH: I bet he left because he got annoyed with Scotty sucking up to him every second. You'd do more than kiss his ass if given half the chance, wouldn't you?
SW: Well, if the money's right. Come on, he owns a quarter of BOB for crying out loud!
[Suddenly they are interrupted by Nine Inch Nail's "Closer" blaring throughout the arena (i.e. the room)]
Masked Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall, and is for the Swiss Army title. Introducing first, hailing from Seattle, Washington, and weighing in at 330 pounds, the VIOLENT PACIFIST!!
[The Pacifist emerges from the back with Mr. Bat held high. He's sporting a patriotic red, white, and blue headband, and his usual early-80's short-shorts and knee-high sweatsocks with old, ratty tennis shoes. The crowd is going crazy for the leader of Totally Face.]
SW: Hey, has anyone ever noticed how much VP looks like Jake "the Snake" Roberts?
MM: Oh, come on! He's not THAT fat. I hope he heard you.
NH: Hey, is it just me, or ever since VP became the commissioner, he hasn't been able to do very much, well, commissioning lately, has he?
MM: Well, I don't know if you've noticed, Heidi, but no one in BOB has been doing very much lately.....
MA: Introducing next, the challenger, weighing in at 202 pounds, from Nice, France, please welcome STREETMIME 2!!
[The Mime comes out to, you guessed it, silence. Save for the crowd booing him lustily.]
SW: Well, that figures. He's a mime. I guess he's got some natural heat.
MM: Well, folks, it all comes down to this. VP. StreetMime. Mano-a-mano.
SW: Hands vs. hands?
MM: No, different language, stupid! Uhmm, I think. Anyway, you gotta figure that this is StreetMime's one and only shot at gold here in BOB. How often do jobbers get title shots?
SW: In BOB? All the time!
MM: (ignoring Scotty) There's no tomorrow for StreetMime. He's waited his whole career for this. He won the big one in the STWF! CAN HE DO THE SAME HERE IN BOB?!?
[The Violent Pacifist is jumping up and down in his corner while cracking his knuckles, followed by his jaw. StreetMime, however, is outside the ring handing invisible flowers to a female fan. He then makes the "call-me" gesture as VP grabs him by the beret and pulls him into the ring.]
SW: AND THEY'RE OFF! VP just Irish whipped StreetMime to the corner and now they're both running towards each other! BAM!
NH: VP with a rabbit punch to the top of StreetMime's head and the mime is down!
MM: 1-2-3! And it's over! What a match!
NH: I agree. As far as StreetMime matches go, this has certainly been one of the more emotional ones.
SW: Yeah, I mean, the intensity exhibited by both these individuals was just incredible. GIMME A BREAK! It's a freakin' StreetMime match! Let's get to the real matches already!
MM: With that being said, wait! VP's got the mic.
VP: Here is your winner.....ME! Ha-ha-haaaaaa! I love being commissioner. And, as commissioner, I decree that next week I will defend my title against.........Scotty Whatbody!
SW: What? No way! Did you hear that?! I get a shot at the Swiss Army title! I getta fight.....VP. Oh, wait. (this suddenly dawns on him) Oh, no....
VP: That's right, dough boy. You better buy you a jump rope. Looks like you gotta lotta working out to do. Hahaha. Now onto other business. Billy Podunk and Silaconne N. Muh Pants, the Not-Quite-Nobodies. You know, I get about 20 or 30 requests for matches against you two per day! I ain't kiddin'. So here's what I'm gonna do. One man in particular has been hounding me for a match against both of you, and I believe he's more than deserving, so I've decided to make your tag match a six-man match.
SW: Oh, no! Not another six-man! We must have too many people on our roster, I guess.
MM: You gotta be kidding me, Scotty.
VP: It'll be Silly, Billy, and Hanky Panky Hank against Pain & Pleasure OF....totallyface.
[The crowd starts clapping and whistling and waving their programs in appreciation for the largest group of good guys in wrestling history. Or they could be waving their programs because there's no air-conditioning in the building. But, no wait, it's December, not August, huh? Nevermind]
VP....and a mystery partner. Dun-dun-duhhhhh. Have fun. Well, no, you probably won't have very much fun. But the fans will!
[The crowd cheers even louder this time. Maybe because they heard the word "fan" and they think somebody's actually going to bring one into the room to cool them off. Again, this is December, so the previous sentence didn't make much sense logically. I apologize.]
MM: Well, fans, let's go backstage and see what the NQM Club has to say about all this. Live! As we speak!
NH: Yes. Lets.
SW: Oh, Heidi. There you are.
NH: I've been here the whole time, you mic-hog!
[Cut to the back as Dennis is entering the Not-Quite-Millionaires' locker room. A calendar on the wall reads August.]
DB: Hullo, gents. Might I get a word from you lot as to the comments just made by our great and wizened commissioner?
SMP: Hey, guys, he wants a word. Hmm. Let me think. Zamboni? There you go, now get out of here, you British bag-o-donuts!
[SMP shoves Dennis out the door, but the camera remains.]
SMP: I tell you what, though, Billy. We all know damn well who their mystery partner's gonna be.
BP: Yeah, I know. Who?
HH: WHO's wrestling again? For BOB? Hey, wasn't he really Jim Neidhart?
SMP: You guys are kidding, right?
BP: Yeah, of course. Uh, sure we are. (giving Hank a confused look)
MP: Okay then. He's definitely gonna be a problem for us. We need a plan. Any ideas?
BP: You know, yeah, I got one.
BP: How about....HOW ABOUT....we go out there tonight and just....just....kick their asses.
HH: YAY-AHH! (he headbutts a locker. Both Billy and SMP stare at him for a second)
SMP: What, that's-that's your idea?! I thought you went to Harvard! We're in big trouble here, you guys! This is a "Face Rules" match! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!
BP: Hey, hey, relax buddy.
SMP: Relax? You're telling me to relax? What are you, douja? We can't lose to them! We can't!
BP: Oh, come on! Are we or are we not the greatest wrestlers in parody e-wrestling today?
HH: YAY-AHH! (he headbutts the locker again. A trickle of blood is showing on his forehead)
SMP: Please, Hank. We're trying to talk. Look, Billy|
BP: No, you look, SMP. All my life I've been living in your shadow.
SMP: Uh, but we're not even related or in any way affiliated.
BP: Well, actually...(he puts his hand on SMP's shoulder) Sil, you're my father.
BP: No, just kidding. But everybody's always mistaking me for you. And you know what, I actually think that's a compliment now. After all, you did mastermind this whole Not-Quite-Millionaires thing. That's probably saying something...to somebody. US, and Hank, and to a lesser extent, douja before he got hooked on mary-joe,|-well, we can beat anybody. I'm the greatest white luchador, you're the greatest faux-doctor, and Hank's the greatest, uhhh, psychopathic horticulturist, in all of sports entertainment! We're the BEST, and tonight, let's go out there and show the world just how much ass we can collectively kick!
HH: YAY-AHH! (he headbutts the locker one more time, and this time falls to the ground unconscious)
BP: (standing over the downed Hank) Hank?
[The camera cuts back to ringside as the Totally Face theme music fills the arena. Jean Bannister and Sir Hungalot (with the ever-lovely Candy Cantaloupes) are trodding to the ring. Jean even has a big smiley-face drawn on his hockey mask. The crowd is eating it up.]
NH: Well, it kind of looks like there's gonna be TWO mystery opponents in this match, one on each side, unless....
SW: You don't think....
MM: I wouldn't be surprised. If those two combined their egos, I bet they could easily convince themselves that they could win this match 2-on-3!
SW: Hey, I bet they could! It's just a matter of mind-OVER-matter, after all.
NH: So which Totally Face member do you think is gonna be P&P's partner tonight, Scotty?
SW: Please be Coma. Please be Coma.
[Suddenly "In the Hall of the Mountain King" by Grieg starts up and the crowd jumps to their feet! Most of them are heading toward the popcorn vendor who has just now begun to sell popcorn. Bohemoth, meanwhile, is trundling towards the ring.]
SW: WHOA!! Make that "mind-over-A LOT OF MATTER"!
MM: This definitely does not bode well for the NQM.
NH: So, who do you think's gonna replace Homicidal Hank, Scotty?
SW: Uhhhhh, please don't be me. Please don't be me.
["We're Not Gonna Take It" by Twisted Sister fills the air as Billy Polar and SMP make their way up the ramp, followed shortly behind by none other than.....Zilla!]
SW: Oh, f--- us!
AL: Ladies and gentlemen, this is a special 6-man "Face Rules" attraction. The rules are as follows: any action which is deemed un-facelike will cost the team of the individual responsible one point. Pinfalls or submissions will cost the opposing team three points. The first team to lose five points loses the match.
SW: Oh, great! That explains everything. I'm totally clear now.
NH: But what about countouts? Are those facelike?
SW: Oh come on, Heidi! When was the last time you heard some heel say "I'm evil an' I'm 'bout ta count yo' ass out!"
MM: I'm so confused. Let's just watch, shall we? And let the ref worry about enforcing the rules. Alright, it looks like SMP will start out for the heel team and Sir Hungalot for the face team. SMP, perhaps not wanting to chance losing a point, actually starts the match out with a lockup for a change.
NH: SMP with the power advantage. Go Sil! Sorry. He shoves Hungalot into the corner and....lets go and backs away immediately? What the hell?
SW: What is happening here? Ugh, I can't watch this match. I just can't. I'm getting sick to my stomach. No heeling? No way!
MM: Well, I guess SMP is really on top of this match. They might actually pull this one off! SMP now with a side-salto suplex! What's this?! The ref is signalling to the timekeeper. The NQM has lost a point? Oh, I get it. SMP used Hungalot's trunks to get him over on that suplex. It's NQM -1, TF 0.
SW: No way! This is bullshit!
NH: SMP panicking now. And he tags in Billy Polar.
MM: Billy Polar looking smug now
NH: He always looks smug.
[Suddenly Billy points at Bohemoth and yells "Hey that's not fair! Look what he's doing!" The ref looks off where he's pointing as Billy kicks Hungalot in his naughty place. The ref looks back suspiciously as Billy helps Hungalot to his feet and dusts him off.]
MM: Well, it looks like Polar and Hungalot are finally locking up. Billy now with a standing dropkick!
NH: Oh, look, now Billy's standing over Hungalot and laughing. That's heelish, isn't it?
SW: BILLY, LOOK OUT! THE REF'S WATCHING!
[Billy immediately switches from laughter to a fit of coughing.]
SW: Phew. See ref? He's just got a cold, that's all.
MM: Hungalot now wobbling to his corner. Whoops. He just tripped over his....his....oh good grief!
NH: Now, that's impressive.
SW: That's gotta hurt! I wonder how he got it that long?
SW: My theory is excessive masturbation in front of the radiation of a computer screen.
MM: Yeah, I'm gonna change the subject now. Hungalot finally got to his corner and made the blind tag. Bohemoth in the ring now. Billy just turned around and Bohemoth startled him!
NH: Billy doesn't look so smug now!
[Suddenly, the smile returns to Billy's face.]
BP: Hey, big guy! I find your adiposity to be humorous!
Ref: Hey! That's one point for insultin' your adversary!
Ref: Hey! That's one point for swearin'!
[SMP tackles Billy in mid-sentence and clamps his hands over his mouth.]
SW: Huh? I thought swearing was a face tactic. UNGH! I can't believe this! I'm feeling woosy. I'm gonna faint.
MM: Totally Face is up by three points! Let's see if they can finish them off. Polar bounces off the ropes now and he's going for a crossbody! OH!
NH: Wow! Bohemoth caught him. That's unbelievable! Yet believable. Bohemoth now with a press slam and wow! He just dropped Polar right on his stomach. He must've been twelve feet in the air!
MM: Polar rolling to his corner now and he makes the tag to SMP. SMP in now facing everybody's old nemesis, Bohemoth!
NH: SMP now chopping away at the Big Bo.
[Suddenly the whole arena is filled with "WHOO" after "WHOO". Even the referee is "WHOO"-ing.]
SW: Whoo-fricking-hoo. (nearly crying) We're still gonna frickin' lose!
[Scotty then produces an orange prescription bottle from his pocket and downs a few pills.]
SW: Anybody got any scotch?
NH: Oh yeah, sure, here. Anyway, the Big Bo's going for a clothesline now, but oh yes! Sil ducked it and caught him with a reverse neckbreaker!
MM: SMP now with a brutal series of legdrops. Bo desperately trying to roll over onto his stomach so he can get his legs under him.
SW: Wow. It must be tough being desperately fat and all. You never really realize how hard it is unless YOU were the one who sat on your ass for a year and ate half your body weight per day.
NH: Thanks for the lecture, Scotty. It sounds like you really understand him.
SW: Yeah, I'm about half a year away. He's my guru of obesity.
MM: The Big Bo finally up now and SMP takes him right back down with a jawbreaker and he makes the tag to Billy Polar again. Billy now stomping away on the Big Bo's back. And Bohemoth just rolled over onto his back and kicked Billy half way across the ring! And now he made the tag to a fresh Jean Bannister!
NH: Looks like Billy blew it again.
SW: Shut up! This is all part of his master plan, I'm sure of it!
MM: Nice shoulderblock by Jean. And a hockey-mask headbutt? Is that legal? I guess the ref has decided to let it go.
NH: Well, you have to admit. That is a very cute smiley-face after all.
SW: Yeah. Jason on Prozac. Cute.
NH: Billy leaps! Frankensteiner out of nowhere! Jean runs at him. Hiptoss out of nowhere!
SW: What do you mean, out of nowhere?
NH: Billy now with a standing senton and now there's the ref to count the pinfall out of nowhere! 1-2-NO! Jean kicked out out of nowhere!
SW: Mike, will you please take over the play-by-play? There's something wrong with Heidi!
MM: Okay, sure. Billy now whipping Jean to the ropes. He's setting him up for....a small package! He's locked it in! 1-2-nosiree, BOB! Jean kicked out.
SW: Wow, can you believe that? Billy didn't even pull the tights or use the ropes or anything! How's that for impressive? That goes completely against his training!
MM: Billy now whipping Bannister to the ropes again. Uh-oh. Kick to the gut. And he lifts him up. OOH, MAN! There's that brainbuster bomb of his. I can't remember what it's called.
SW: It's the Aneurysm, you moron! Get it right or go back to selling used cars!
MM: Hmm. I'll get back to you on that one. The ref making the count, and he got him. And that means the Face team has lost three points.
SW: Ha ha! See? Billy's tied it all up! He had a plan all along! There was no reason to panic. I knew he could do it.
MM: Oh, this isn't right! What's going on right here? Billy Polar's going for the cover again right away? How's that fair?
NH: Well, hey. There's no 30-second waiting period in the rules for this match, is there?
MM: Whoa! You scared me.
NH: What's that supposed to mean?
SW: The referee's making the count! 1|2|3!!!
MM: No, just 2. But man, that was close. It should've been over right there!
NH: And now Billy bends over to lift Jean to his feet, but Jean just knocked his legs out from under him! Billy's down!
SW: You're damn right Billy's down! Billy IS Pop, and don't you forget it, nurse!
MM: And now Bannister's applying a Sharpshooter. He's got him in the middle of the ring!
SW: Now this ain't fair! How the heck do you get out of this hold without cheating?
MM: I'm sure you wouldn't know. Fans, if Billy Polar submits, that's three more points and this one's all over! Billy's shaking his head and screaming! This could be it!
BP: DAMMIT, I'VE BEEN TO HARVARD AND I'M IN A LOT OF PAIN! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!
SW: Come on, Billy! Fight it! YES! He's making his way towards the ropes!
NH: But no! Jean just muscled him back to the middle of the ring again. Sorry, Scotty.
[Suddenly, SMP makes his way over to Nurse Heidi and whispers something in her ear.]
NH: #sigh# Alright, Sil. But only for you do I do this.
MM: What're you doing, Heidi?
[Heidi then proceeds to walk to the ring apron and flash the referee, who happened to be carrying a camera in his back pocket. He quickly snaps a picture and an angry Heidi retreats back to the announce desk with a disgusted look on her face. However, in the time it takes for all that to transpire, Billy Polar has "mysteriously" found his way to the ropes, with a little help from SMP.]
SW: Well, well, well. So, Heidi. It seems you're shortly going to become an overnight internet porn sensation. How does it feel?
NH: Shut up.
SW: Reeeeowww! Fffffft!
MM: Meanwhile fans, the ref's making a count on Jean Bannister and if he doesn't let go by 5, he'll cost his team a point. Candy Cantaloupes is pleading with him, but I guess he hates Billy Polar too much. And yes, the ref is ringing the bell. And now Team NQM is just one point away from winning this thing! Good Lord. Can you imagine?
SW: YES! Come on, Billy. Tag out already! You're hurt!
MM: You know, your open partisan slant just sickens and offends me, Scotty. You're a journalist for crying out loud! Do your job and just call the match!
NH: And Billy just made the tag to SMP again. SMP with a quick spear. Waits for him to get up, and there's a snap suplex! Sil's on fire! As always.
SW: Now who's being partisan? Now, why didn't Billy tag in Zilla? Or Insano Mano for that matter?
MM: Insano Mano? What's he still doing here? That was two matches ago!
NH: I guess they forgot to tag him in.
MM: Hey, somebody wake him up and get him out of here!
[As Security escorts the sleepy Mexican to the back, the match continues....]
SW: Well, I guess they're keeping Zilla fresh till the end. I guess he's their secret weapon.
MM: That very well may be, Scotty. But I doubt it. SMP now with a side headlock, but Bannister pulls out of it and OH! Boy, did he catch SMP with that clothesline! AND HE MADE THE TAG TO BOHEMOTH! HE MADE THE TAG TO BOHEMOTH!!
NH: We noticed! You know, Mike, I think there's something wrong with your volume control.
MM: Bohemoth now pushing SMP to the corner. He sets him up on the top rope!
NH: Oh, Sil, look out!
MM: And a SUPER BODYSLAM OFF THE TOP ROPE!! Whoa! SMP hit the ref on the way down! What's gonna happen now! SMP's in a world of hurt!
NH: And all six men are in the ring now! This thing's falling apart! Hungalot and Cantaloupes are pounding on Polar. And Bannister just nailed Zilla with a quick spine buster!
MM: Polar's unconscious outside the ring and Zilla's only semi-conscious. As always. And now Bannister has set SMP up against a corner and Bohemoth is now at the opposing corner. What's he gonna|? He's gesturing for Sir Hungalot to get down on all fours in front of SMP. What's going on? OHMIGOD!
[Bohemoth runs across the screen, steps off Hungalot's back, and goes airborne for the Poetry In Motion. This effectively squashes Hungalot flat and Bohemoth only gets about a foot off the ground. Besides, SMP was holding onto the ropes and manages to pull himself down and outside of the ring in time to avoid the impact. The ring nearly tips over.]
SW: WHOOOOOO!! NOW I feel like whooing! They're gonna have to rename that move "Poetry In Traction" after that one! Bohemoth is down AND out!
NH: But so is the ref. SMP just caught Bannister with a monster DDT and now Billy and SMP are trying to revive the referee.
MM: But what's this? Zilla's brought a chair into the ring to add to the carnage! And the ref's waking up. He sees the chair! He's calling for the bell! Another point lost for| But wait. What's this? Billy and SMP have grabbed the chair away from the young skateboarding sports-entertainer and have set it up in the ring and are now gesturing for the referee to sit down in it? What the-? SMP's giving him a shoulder massage?
Ref: Oh, yeah, that's the spot! Nice and sensual. Hey, wait! That's schmoozing the ref! I AM taking away that point!
SW: NOOOOOO!!! (Scotty finally collapses in frustration and starts sobbing) I CAN'T TAKE THE PRESSURE!!
NH: Hahahaha! And now Billy Polar's throwing a tantrum outside the ring! I love it!
MM: But look! Zilla's perched on the top rope and Bohemoth's making his way back to his feet. What in the name of|I think that was the Skyscraper! He nailed Bohemoth with the Skyscraper!
MM: 1|-2|-NO! YES! He got him! Unbelievable!! The NQM has won this thing! The NQM has won it! Zilla has slain the giant! What an upset! And SMP & Polar are hoisting Zilla up on their shoulders! And whoops, they dropped him, but Zilla's still smiling.
SW: He beat Bohemoth! Ohmigod, I'm going hoarse! Zilla, I take back everything bad I ever said about you! You are the MAN!
NH: I hate to say it, but God, he beat Bohemoth! That's definitely something to proud of. If wrestling were real.....
MM: Well, fans. It's time for Billy Polar to interview this week's special guest, and hey, for the first or second time ever, none of us has any idea who it's gonna be....
[Billy Polar is standing in the ring with a mic. His hair is sticking nearly straight up on one side. Apparently, mousse and wrestling just don't mix.]
BP: Well, well, well, and now the moment you've all been waiting for!
BP: What do you mean, "what"? (taps the mic with his finger) Is this thing on?
BP: (looking confused) I think it's on....Testing....Testing....One-Two-Three-
BP: It sounds fine to me. I don't know what the problem is....it seems to be working....
BP: GODDAMMIT, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!!
BP: Oh, I see what you're doing! Wrong federation, you morons!
BP: STOP IT!! You're gonna get us in trouble!
Herb Romaine: What? How dare you defame sheep in such a way!
BP: Ah, screw it! Come on out, douja.
["How High" hits the airwaves as douja gangsta-limps up the rampway. He's wearing a doo-rag with a picture of a yellow marijuana leaf on it. Oh, and he's also wearing a suit and tie.]
MM: That's just disgusting!
NH: What is? I think he looks pretty spiffy for once.
MM: He's wearing drug paraphernalia to the ring, for crying out loud! There's no reason for that! There's no reason to piss off any concerned, family-oriented parents! We need every fan we can get!
SW: What are you talking about, drug paraphernalia? That|that's a maple leaf. Yeah. douja's Canadian!
MM: No he's not! He's from Compton!
SW: It's called dual citizenship, Monroe! Now shut up, so I can hear them talking. Together they own half of BOB, Mike! Half of BOB! That's 50%!
MM: Oh, is it? Looks like the audience can't hear them, either.
Audience: WHAT! WHAT! WHAT!
douja: shut yo' ass up, you cracka ass crackas! i got's mad stuff to say today.
BP: I can't believe it. They shut up. Now, dou|
douja: billy, please, i got to say dis shit. now, y'all know i retired an' shit! dis fuckin' fed done seen the last of this motha' fucka! that's fo' sho'! but before i walk my fitteen inches o' chocolatey goodness out that do', i gotsta say sumpfin..........it's been a fuckin' trip, yo.
[The crowd, surprisingly, gives him a loud pop. Probably because he's leaving.]
BP: I'll miss you, man! (he gives him a hug and then holds his arm up in victory)
douja: i'll miss you, too, dogg. peace out, motha' fuckas!
BP: You have done everything there is to do in parody e-wrestling!
douja: damn straight!
BP: So douja, now that you're leaving, who're you gonna have take your place? I mean, you are a Not-Quite-Millionaire, after all.....
douja: yo, i don't give a flying fuck who takes my place, 'cause i ain't a not-quite-millionaire no' mo'.
BP: What the hell are you talking about? I thought we "be down" with the noise or "jiggy" with the shits and everything. (Billy then tries to flash some kind of gang sign which consists of bending pinkies and thumbs, among other fingers) You'll always be a Not-Quite-Millionaire. We're a fraternity, for crying out loud!
douja: what can i say, dogg? suckas gotsta do what suckas gotsta do. i solded my shares and now i actually is a millionaire! ain't that da shit!
BP: But.....how can you do this to I, Billy Polar?! We went to graduate school together, you ungrateful so-and-so! I wrote half your post-doctoral thesis for you!
douja: an' i got yo' nerdy ass laid by some very fine bitches, motha' fucka! so our ass is even, billy.
BP: WHAT?! You think two hours with your ugly-ass sisters makes us even?! I hate to break it to you, but they were stank, douja! That was wrong! You know how drunk I was! They were big fat hoes, dammit!
Audience: JER-RY! JER-RY! JER-RY!
douja: fine den. i'm just a evil fuck. a evil fuck with a shitload of money, foo'! huh huh.
BP: How stupid are you? You're screwing over someone from Harvard, dammit? Wait. By the way, uh, did you happen to mention who you sold your share of BOB to? I don't believe I caught that part.
douja: sorry, dogg. i gotsta go. it's been a slice of fuckin' sunshine.
[Suddenly "No Chance In Hell" blares through the loudspeaker. The crowd goes nuts!]
NH: Ohmigod! Vince McMahon's here? The WWF bought BOB, too?!
SW: I can't believe|-I can't believe it!
[But it is not Vince McMahon who emerges from the curtains, it's a scrawny, Mexican-looking kid. He walks up to Billy and grabs his mic. Billy doesn't seem to notice as he's just standing there with his mouth open.]
Kid: What up, peepz! My name is Rodrigo! And guess what? Vince McMahon's my father! He up and got a restraining order against my momma, so I took one of his child-support payments and bought this fed with it! I will pick up where my sister and brother left off! I WILL destroy Vince McMahon!
BP: Uhhhhh.....yeah, right. How old are you, kid?
BP: Thirteen? What the hell do YOU know about wrestling?
Kid: Well, I know that you guys all suck!
SW: Wow! The kid is good! He's a natural, I tell ya! A regular prodigy!
NH: Wow. You're sucking up already? The rats always seem to know when the ship is sinking, huh, Mike?
MM: (searching through his briefcase for his resume) Yeah, sure thing, Heidi. Now what were you saying again?
BP: Look, you can't just come in here and say that you own BOB. You only bought a quarter of it. That's one out of four parts of it, if you haven't done fractions yet in math class.
Kid: Well, that guy in the black trenchcoat signed over his share and he's getting that bleeding guy on the floor to sign as we speak....
[The camera pans to the back as SMP is crouching over the unconscious Homicidal Hank who his a pen taped to his hand. SMP then proceeds to move Hank's hand to sign a document for him.]
BP: D'oh! You win, kid. Well, then, I guess I'll just sign my share over, too, and then this whole thing is yours. So that's one million smackers, huh? Heh heh.
Kid: Why do I need to give you anything? I already own three quarters of BOB, so I get to make all the decisions!
BP: GOD-dammit! FINE! So what're you gonna do now? Have all us BOB-sters invade the WWF?
Kid: No way, are you crazy?! You guys REALLY suck!
BP: Dammit. He's got us there. Then.....why did you buy this company?
Kid: Because I'm rich. What's it to you? You no longer work here.
BP: WHAT?! You can't fire me! I'm Billy Polar, dammit!
Kid: I don't care if you're my grandma. Security! Get this buttface out of MY ring!
BP: This is all the BigBOSS's fault, I know it! You declared bankruptcy again, didn't you! This is breach of contract! YOU OWE ME MONEY, YOU ASSHOLE! You-OWWWW!
[Two fat guys with billy clubs beat down Billy Polar and drag him behind the curtains.]
NH: Wow! That's good riddance, as far as I'm concerned. I never thought I'd see the day that Billy Polar got his! You're Billy Polar, so what can YOU do, bitch! (she tries to kick him as he's dragged past her)
SW: Damn, Heidi! Is it that time of the month, or what?
Kid: Hey, why are you still talking? I'm not paying you, you know! (staring at Heidi, and then licking his thumbs and wetting his eyebrows) Ooh. Hey, baby. I think I'll keep YOU on.
NH: (laughing at Scotty and Mike) Haha! I've still got a jo-ob! I've still got a jo-ob!
[Heidi then gets up and enters the ring by bending way, way over. Rodrigo is jumping up and down and clapping.]
Kid: Wow! My very own woman! Hey, you wanna come over tonight? I've got an X-Box, a GameCube, AND a Playstation 2! You ever play Grand Theft Auto 3? It's so much fun! We can stay up all night and play it!
NH: Yeah, I resign. Sorry.
Kid: Hey, don't go, baby! Damnit! Why do they always LEAVE?! Ah, screw it. The shows over, folks! Go home!
[Suddenly the loudspeaker cuts to "No Pants In Hell" as the BigBOSS makes his way down to the ring apron.]
BB: Now hold on just a minute, sonny. You promised us one last match!
Kid: Hey, whatever, old man. Just be out by eight. My mommy wants me home by then. And get me some popcorn!! This better be good.
[The kid then makes his way to ringside and takes a seat in the now-vacant timekeeper's chair.]
MM: Well, guys, what do you say? One last match for old-times' sake?
SW: Alright, fine. God, this is depressing. Got any more scotch, Heidi? Heidi?
[Heidi downs the rest in one swig.]
NH: Guh|no. Sorry. So any ideas who's gonna be in this match?
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall and is for THE ULTIMATE CHAMPIONSHIP OF BOB FOR ALL TIME! Introducing first, from Kent State University, the man who claims that the girlies like to dance in his pants, here is the "Not Big Enough For The Big Boys" Unrecognized Champion, "Bitch Smacker" BRAAAAAN-DOOOON!
[Brandon sprints to the ring with his hands over his ears to help drown out the pre-teen shrieking.]
MM: Wow. Masked Announcer's pulling out all the stops for this one!
NH: And why not? He's gotta sell himself now that he's out of a job. He's got to perfect his portfolio.
SW: The Masked Announcer has a portfolio? What is he, a model? He wears a mask!
MA: Introducing next, fighting out of Endive, North Dakota, he is the BOB "Are You Out Of Your Freakin' Mind" Champion, as well as being the first American to claim a non-human commonlaw partner, here is HERB "El Mariachi" ROOOOOOOOOO-MAAAAAAAINE!
[Herb comes out raising the roof with his sheep, Betty Lou, at his side.]
MM: You've always got to give it to Herb. He's a good guy. And a proud advocate of animal rights. Specifically, that they should have the same rights as people....
NH: Oh, please! The man's a dink. Preferring sheep to women. Animal rights, my beautiful ass!
SW: Wow. I can't imagine you being a bigoted oppressor, Heidi. Why CAN'T animals have rights? I mean, when it all comes down to it, they're just retards with fur, after all. There really is no difference.
MM: Yikes! There might be a lawsuit coming after that statement, but it's really not our problem anymore, is it?
SW: Yeah, just let Rodrigo McMahon over there pay for Johnnie Cochran with his next week's allowance. This sucks, Mike! I don't want to lose my job!
MA: Now making his way to the ring, fighting out of Seattle, Washington, he's Gandhi with a 'tude, here is the VIOOOOOOLENT PAAAACIFIIIIIIIST!
[VP comes out looking psychotically angry as always. He seems to have left Mr. Bat in the back.]
SW: Gandhi with a 'tude? Try Gandhi with a beer belly, buck-teeth, and a life-time supply of steroids!
NH: Just who're you describing? Missy Hyatt?
SW: Nevermind! Sheesh.
MA: And finally, from Edinburgh, Scotland, he has the biggest.............TITLE|of them all! He is the Scottish Super Sot, the Grand Master Git, the Man with the Koolest Kilt, here is DONALD "Osama Ain't My Mama" MIIIIIIIIC-KIIIIILALOOOOOT!
[McKillalot comes out from behind the curtains and immediately falls down. He eventually stumbles drunkenly to the ring about two minutes later.]
NH: Looks like our champ's been hanging around with Blackjack Hooligan again. I don't think that bodes well for him when he's in there with the Violent Pacifist.
SW: You know, some people drive better when they're drunk....I mean, fight! Fight better! Ha ha! I wasn't talking about me. I can't fight.
MM: O-kay. Well. The bell has rang, supposedly, and so begins the LAST EVER match in the history of BOB!
NH: Yes, it'll definitely be the LAST!
SW: Certainly, I sure don't see us coming back from this one!
MM: Alright, that's enough! We're all freaking each other out. Let's just call the match, huh?
NH: Alright. VP and the Caprinid Kid going at it now. Fists of vegetarian fury! Whoa! Brandon just caught them both by surprise with a wicked crossbody from the top, and McKillalot fell down as well!
SW: It must've been the wind.
MM: VP up now and he socks Brandon in the gut. He picks him up in a fireman's carry, and there's a Death Valley Driver! Right on his head! But VP wasn't looking and just got nailed with a clothesline from Herb! Wow!
SW: That's why three-ways suck! You can't keep your eyes on two other people at once without getting a severe headache.
MM: Uh, but this is a four-way, Scotty....
SW: Oh, I hadn't noticed.
[The camera shows McKillalot in the opposite corner puking.]
NH: Wow, someone's barfing in BOB's final match. Ironic, don't you think?
SW: Yeah, because somebody barfed in our first match! We've come full circle!
MM: No, they didn't!
SW: Well, I'm sure somebody in the audience did! That's a given. Have you TASTED our popcorn?
MM: No, and I'm never going to, either.
NH: Herb now with a nice German suplex, and now he's bridging it for the pin! But Brandon breaks up the count with a running legdrop across VP's neck. He's holding it there and Herb's holding the bridge! The ref doesn't know who to count for, and OH! VP just threw them both off
SW: Man, you have to hand it to VP for even taking this match! Don't forget, he's pulling double duty tonight, Heidi.
NH: Yeah, I'm sure StreetMime took a lot out of him. Wow, VP looks pissed. He's going after Brandon now who leaves the ring in a hurry! OH! Herb just nailed VP with the Salad Shooter bulldog from behind! He's got him! He's got him! Herb Romaine? Here's the count! 1|2|OH! And VP kicks out. Man, that was close.
MM: Wow, you gotta think about what's at stake here, Heidi. The winner of this thing will have the privilege of being the last-ever champion in the history of BOB. We have four fan favorites in the ring, giving it their all, and you better believe each one of them is focused on one thing!
SW: Nurse Heidi's silicone snack-packs?
NH: #ahem# They're called breasts, Scotty. And they're not all|(she suddenly realizes that Scotty's right and looks disgusted again) Well, no, you see? Herb's not.
MM: I was referring to winning the match. Get with the program, you guys! THERE IS NO TOMORROW FOR US! WE ARE VERY DANGEROUS! Brandon now going after McKillalot, who's down on his knees in the far corner with his hands over his head. Brandon getting a running start now! Baseball slide! And McKillalot has nowhere to go. Brandon now stomping away, and now he hooks Donald's head and climbs to the top rope! Could we see a tornado DDT?
NH: NO!!! McKillalot just caught him in a Northern Lights Superplex!! That was the most incredible thing I've ever seen! 1|2|WHOA!! A little girl just ran into the ring and started clawing at McKillalot's eyes!
SW: Wow, how's that for fan loyalty? Geez, she must be eight years old! You know, I hate to say it, but maybe somebody should investigate the Kent State Krew. I mean, something just doesn't seem right there.
MM: I know what you mean, but I'm not touching that one! McKillalot now picking up Brandon for a powerbomb, but he's holding him up in the air! And now he's walking over to the ring ropes, POWERBOMB!! All the way to the wooden floor! Brandon might be dead after that one!
SW: Don't worry. I'm sure his fan club broke his fall.
[Meanwhile, Brandon is lying in an unconscious heap at ringside and a mob of underraged girls have descended upon him and are proceeding to rip his clothes off for souvenirs.]
MM: Meanwhile, folks, Herb just attempted a dropkick, but VP just brushed him off! And now VP has him by the hair, and he's got him up! SPINNING NINE-INCH NAILER!! Forget about it! Herb won't wake up 'till next week!
NH: But McKillalot just nailed VP with a superkick before he could make the cover! And he just tossed VP over the top rope!
SW: Wow! McKillalot's recovered nicely from his early-match hangover, I'd say. I don't think he can be beaten. In fact, I'll bet my whole next paycheck that he's gonna win this thing!
MM: You're on! Wait, we're not gonna get another paycheck, are we?
SW: Hey. Just covering all my bases.
MM: Anyway, McKillalot's setting up for a McPiledriver now, but VP just nailed him with a lariat from the top rope!! And now he's giving the crowd the double victory sign!
NH: But, look! Herb just rolled through and is covering McKillalot! 1|2|NO! VP turned around just in time to break up the count!
MM: And McKillalot with a low blow to VP! And there's the McPiledriver! VP's out! But what's this? Herb just nailed McKillalot in the back of the head with a jumping knee! It could be over right here! NO! McKillalot kicked out! Just barely!
SW: Man, what action! Do we have a Gatorade dispenser in the back or something?
NH: Herb whips Donald to the ropes now. He just put his head down for a backdrop. This could be a big mistake! Donald tries to leap-frog him, but Herb lifted his head and crotched him!
SW: (wincing) DEWWWW!!
MM: And now McKillalot is twisting around as Herb is trying to stand up! Donald is now sitting on his shoulders!
SW: This is great! That's the perfect victory roll position! McDonald can put him away right here!
McKillalot: Well, eat my haggis. Ain't this a right interestin' predicament? Aw, feck it!
MM: And McKillalot's going for it, but Herb just dove forward and clotheslined Donald on the top rope! He hooks the leg! 1|2|3! It's over! It's over! Herb did it! HERB ROMAINE IS THE ULTIMATE BOB CHAMPION!!
SW: Sad. I can't believe the history of BOB all came down to Herb Romaine. I'm glad I don't own any guns.
NH: (crying) I can't believe it's over! Come here, you big lug!
[She grabs a very startled Scotty Whatbody in a huge bearhug.]
MM: Well, fans, it's been an incredible run. But all good things, and bad things as well, must come to an end. Wait, what's this? It's StreetMime!
[StreetMime comes down to the ring with a pair of handcuffs (real ones, not invisible) and proceeds to cuff himself to a ringpost. He then starts beating his fist in the air in defiance.]
MM: Wow! StreetMime making a statement here tonight. He doesn't want to see BOB go!
SW: Neither do I, Mike. What do you think? Should we join him?
MM: Nah. Let's go home.
SW: Yeah, good call.
© 2001 BOB Wrestling!