Brawlers On A Budget

>> home
>> upcoming shows
show archives
> 2009
> 2008
> 2006
> 2005
> 2004
> 2003
> 2002
> 2001
> 2000
> 1999
>> forums
>> roster
>> title history
>> rules
>> application
>> eWrestling wiki
>> credit
>> links

Massively Cool

[In a hallway, Seth Harker walked toward a hotel door with an iAd sign hung on it when he bumped into Anne O'Rexic, who was exiting her room.]

Anne: Oh, sorry, Seth. I know I'm just as big as a house these days.

[Seth looks her up and down.]

Seth: No offense, Anne, but, you make Nicole Richie look morbidly obese. Hell, you make Ethiopians look chubby.

Anne: Really? You're so sweet!

Seth: I am?

Anne: Seth, I saw your poem and was wondering if you could read it for me?

Seth: My what?

Anne: Oh, don't be shy. I Googled you.

Seth: Don't let Kay hear you say that. Your boyfriend isn't lurking around here is he?

Anne: My baby daddy? Nah. C'mon, Seth. If you don't, I'll just cry! My hormones are TOTALLY out of control since I've been preggers!

Seth: Um...OK?

Anne: YES! Thanks! Here you go, Seth.

[She hands him a piece of paper.]

Seth: *Ahem* More than...
Words are my bridge to a world I cannot see.
Are you the "Golden Gate," high above the Sea?
People say...
Words are windows into the mind.
Are you interested seeing into mine?
Maybe a different point of view!
Yes, I'm interested in someone just like you.
One letter, maybe even two.
You see the bridge
It's simple...what to do.
I promise...
I am trim, slim, and light skinned.
Interested in people from every origin.
Weight: 175 lbs head to toe, 5'10", bi-lingual, single, and a gentleman.
I love my kids.
Done what I did.
And just doing my bid.
What separates me from you?
Maybe just a fence.
Maybe it's experience.
Maybe just a letter or little note.
In any case, remember my favorite quote.
From the first time that I heard
Anything and everything are
"More than words"

Anne: Wow. That's so amazing how you compared BOB being like a prison. It's so true. Can you sign that or something? You're sooo cool.

Seth: Anne, I didn't write that.

Anne: You didn't?

Seth: I'm 5-11, 217. And I don't have any kids. At least any I know about.

Anne: Huh...well...uh...

Seth: You did get one thing right. I am Massively Cool...

Anne: When did I say that?

["Rising Sun" by Bexta hits. Seth walks down the hallway, slowly pulls out his keycard, unlocks the door and goes inside. Once the door shuts, "Rising Sun" stops.]

Anne: That was odd.

[In an empty ballroom in the Come-A-Lot hotel and casino, Kay Fabe was sitting cross-legged on top of a map of Canada, surrounded by four white candles. In front of her was a ouija board. Her eyes were closed, and she was chanting something repeatedly.]

KF: Wolverine rabbioso.

[She blows out a candle.]

KF: Wolverine rabbioso.

[She blows out the second candle.]

KF: Wolverine rabbioso.

[She blows out the third candle.]

KF: Wolverine rabbioso.

[She blows out the fourth candle. The room is totally dark. Kay begins coughing hard.]

KF: What the? Where in the hell am I at, eh? And where the hell is the door, eh? And why the hell do I have puppies, eh?


KF: I'll make you tap for that, chair! Prove me wrong!




KF: Yeah, that's what I thought...

[Inside the Come-A-Lot grand ballroom, a few hundred fans were waiting for the BOB show to begin. Then "XXXtreme" hit. They quickly changed their minds.]

XM: evre1 sti dane n sut uo!!!

Crowd: BOOOOO!

XM: i wqz robed @ abf!!! i wuz teh mist xxxteme otmxw ev3r! n 2 cumimerite i wana 10 bwll silot! evy1 get pu n rispct me!!!!

[He looks at The Flunky, who looks totally confused.]

XM: rung teh bel 10 tims betch!


XM: y teh fuk is pms getin my tittle shit!! b8gbozz git owt her n giv me mi titel shoot!!

Styles: Hello everyone, and welcome to Massively Cool.

Scotty Whatbody: We're sure starting this show off with somebody who is massively UNcool in XXXtreme Machine. What the hell does he want? An ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS shot? Note to XXXtreme: Today's show is brought to you by the letters P-U-N-I-S-H-M-E-N-T-J-O-B.

Styles: Besides all that, XXXtreme Machine has a six-man tag match to worry about tonight with his good buddies in the iAd who are using him to devalue BOB.

SW: The iAd is just like the Federal Reserve destroying the American dollar.

Styles: Been talking to Alex Smith lately?

SW: Sadly, yes. Did you know there's a global depression coming?

Styles: *Sigh* Just like there are going to be suitcase nukes exploded in six major cities? Or how Bush is gonna declare a dictatorship and never leave office? Yeah...that's all happened like he predicted.

SW: Just you wait!

Styles: He's brainwashing you, Scotty. And we don't have time to get into this.

["Taking Care of Business" plays, getting a decent, though underwhelming pop from the crowd.]

BigBOSS: XXXtreme Machine. How are you feeling?

XM: i fel lick sh!t!

BigB: Listen. All you have to do to get another shot at the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS go to a different dimension where you don't totally suck in every aspect.

[The crowd cheers.]

XM: fuk u @ssholl!

BigB: And since you're out here, and apparently you have no intention of leaving, I guess that leaves me no option but to have you brutally assaulted.

[Big pop.]

SW: Yes!

BigB: So...come on down...The Great Tiny!

["Tiny Bubbles" by Don Ho plays.]

SW: No!

Styles: Was that to the song or the wrestler?

SW: Both, actually.

[The Great Tiny lumbers down the aisle with his arms out in front of him.]

Styles: The Great Tiny, all 5-feet-10-inches of unstoppable terror, assaulted you last month at A Chance Would Be A Fine Thing 2! And it left me with a revolving door of color commentators.

SW: They were all terrible!

Styles: Really? I thought Xamfir and Pigeon were particularly good. I suggested BigBOSS replace you. Maybe you could be a backstage interviewer or something.

SW: You're not funny, Styles.

Styles: And here comes the Great Tiny! Look at him step over the middle rope! I've never seen a midget do that before. They usually have to step over the bottom rope. He truly is a giant among midgets!

SW: Or, he's just a guy with a regular height and a really stupid gimmick. Ever think of that one? For a guy with glasses, you're kind of retarded.

Styles: And look at this. Tiny rams his chest into XXXtreme Machine. He grabs XXXtreme Machine with those giant (for a midget) hands of his. They've got to be the size of regular hands, Scotty.

SW: Are they insane hands?

Styles: Headbutt! Headbutt! Headbutt!

SW: Airbutt! Airbutt! Airbutt! He's not connecting with any of those. Where did we get this loser from?

Styles: I don't know. With BigBOSS's giant fetish, he might be a future champion, Scotty.

SW: BigBOSS has a gay giant fetish? I didn't know that!

Styles: That's not what I meant.

SW: Whatever. Any company that would make a "giant" who can't wrestle into a top champion must suck a big one. *cough*wwe*cough*

[Cut backstage to the iAd hotel room. Trey Vincent and Steve Studnuts are looking at a television.]

TV: Think we should go save XXXtreme Machine?

SS: Eh, fuck him.


[Atomo The Living Robot waddles over and hands Trey a beer.]

TV: It's about damn time. Oh, and make the Atomo The Beer-Delivering Robot, Mr. Narrator.

SS: Yeah. We spent enough reprogramming this hunk of junk.

TV: Seth! You're missing it. XXXtreme Machine is getting the crap kicked out of him.

[The faint sound of "Rising Sun" by Bexta is heard from the bathroom.]

SS: Is he crapping in slow-motion again? That sick bastard.

[Back to the ring.]

BigB: Very nice with the handfuls of hair. Now, actually try to connect with him one of these times.

XM: ow!

BigB: Nice one! There's hope for you yet.


[The crowd erupts. BigBOSS looks toward the entryway.]

Styles: Uh oh. Kay Fabe is on her way out here. But why?

SW: Buyrates. Advertise hot redhead-lesbian action, and you've got horny guys lining up for miles.

Styles: This is odd. I've never seen her wear yellow tights before. Or an Edmonton Oilers jersey.

SW: Hey! Quit hiding the cleavage!

Styles: Kay's in the ring. And BigBOSS runs away.

BigB: Get her, Tiny!

Styles: What happened to his no male on female violence policy?

SW: Rules were made to be broken when there's a heel to get over.

Styles: Tiny slowly lumbers toward Kay. Kay with a chop. Another chop. And another vicious chop. She's sure lighting up Tiny's giant midget chest! German suplex takes Tiny down!

SW: Now I know I've never seen her use that move. Did she get possessed by somebody?

Styles: It is possible. She hasn't been possessed by any dead wrestlers for a long while. And she still looks like Kay Fabe, so it's a little tough to tell.

SW: Let's think...dead Canadian wrestlers who use chops and German suplexes...hmm....

Styles: I'm could be ANYBODY! And XXXtreme Machine is down with a German. And now Kay's going after BigBOSS again! Oh no! Look out for that puddle of grease that fell from the Great Tiny's hair during his walk to the ring!

[BigBOSS goes flying backward and lands on his back. Eliza "The Jobber Slayer" runs out.]

Eliza "The Jobber Slayer": AHHHHHHHHH!

Styles: Check this out. Eliza is holding off Kay Fabe with those shrieks.


KF: Daffney?

ETJS: AHHHHH! Ixnay! Wrong fed! AHHHHH!

Styles: She's literally picking up BigBOSS and rescuing him.

SW: Oh, that settles it. BigBOSS is definitely hitting that.

Styles: What? How do you figure?

SW: Why else would Eliza come out here and rescue him?

Styles: Because it's the right thing to do?

SW: No, no, no. That tattooed jobber slayer is protecting her man from injury. You saw how they were looking at each other a couple months back at Appetite for Burritos.

Styles: BigBOSS is married to Mrs. Behave! I can't believe you'd insinuate that he's having an affair.

SW: I don't know what insinuate means. But I can tell you that Eliza's taking BigBOSS's stick shift for a drive. I guess they must put the 'sin' in inSINuate?

Styles: Uh huh. What a wild start to this show.

SW: Did you say "wild" or "mild"?

Styles: Wild. Let's go backstage to my good friend, Mike Monroe, who is with the Undietaker and Misty Waters.

SW: Yes! The Brataker!

[Misty Waters is holding a magical pair of undies over a kneeling Undietaker as Mike Monroe begins.]

MM: Thank you, job stealer. Why don't you put your glasses on backwards and walk into yourself? I'm joined here by The Undietaker and the Brataker. Undie, Bratakey, you've sure been having trouble with Pigeon lately.

Brataker: OOOOOOOOOOOOO yes! Yes! Yes! Pigeon! You're gonna drown in the toilet!

Undietaker: Boy, listen up.

Voice: Cut cut cut cut!

Undietaker: What the? Vincent?

[Trey Vincent walks into the shot.]

Trey Vincent: Yeah. See, here's the thing, Undietaker. Misty is iAd property now.

[Misty smiles.]

Undietaker: I beg to differ, boy!

TV: Yeah, well, looking out that outfit, it looks like you were begging for spare change a few minutes ago. Misty's got style. You're...nothing.

Undietaker: This contract says otherwise.

[He digs into his pockets and pulls out a pair of undies.]

Undietaker: Not that one. Hold on...

[He pulls out another pair of undies.]

Undietaker: That's not it either...I know it's in here somewhere. Aha.

[Undietaker hands Trey Vincent a pair of white boxer shorts with some writing on it.]

Undietaker: I've got her signature right there, smart guy.

TV: Taker...that contract is written on boxer shorts. That's not legally binding. Where's Kwai Chiang Siegel?

Mike + Undietaker + Misty: Who?

TV: My old Shaolin Attorney. It's over, Taker.

MW: *Snort*

TV: Huh? OH! Man, I didn't even mean it like that! BWAHAHAHA!

Undietaker: What did I miss?

[Mike shrugs.]

TV: Nothing. Other than Misty. Starting now.

[Trey grabs Misty and they leave the shot. Undietaker's eyes roll back into his head.]

Undietaker: Vincent...I don't make mistakes...I take undies.

[Trey comes back into the shot and throws the mystical undies at Undietaker's face. He jumps upon impact.]

TV: Take those undies! BWAHAHAHAHA! Loser!

[Trey leaves again.]

Undietaker: Vincent...I'll make you famous!

TV: Trey Vincent already IS famous, jackfuck!

Undietaker: Grrrrr! Cut the damn camera!

[He grabs Mike Monroe and spins him around.]


MM: Yowwwww!

[Pigeon is sitting in a hallway. Michelle is pacing back and forth.]

Pigeon: When are you going to book it, Michelle?

Michelle: I don't know. Maybe in December. But probably not.

Pigeon: This has to end. It is my density to win the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! But I can't do that if you don't book me to win it.

Michelle: Yeah, I know. SMP and a deck of cards screwed up my plans.

Pigeon: Plants? Great. You ever heard of rigging a drawing? Can't you make some sort of Karl Rove to rig the booking for me? Michelle, you're gorgeous. I need you. I ache for you. It's almost Thanksgiving. Give me something to be thankful and bloated for.

Michelle: I know...

Pigeon: I am a Whatever Wrestling Federation and Brawlers On a Budget legend. I'm sick and tired of being the Anna Kournikova of BOB. She's the best-looking tennis player who never won a grand slam, and I'm the best-looking wrestler never to hold the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. And to get on the road to glory, I must vanquish that evil undie-stealing man from the brown side.

Michelle: I promise you it will happen.

Pigeon: That you'll marry me?

Michelle: What? No! We're not even going out yet!

Pigeon: What about marrying ME? What about marrying PIGEON! I don't see you valeting for anybody else on the roster. You like me. Admit it.

Michelle: I'm just a little worried about BigDADDY right now. We should go check on him.

Pigeon: Fine. I can't wait until he's BigDADDY-in-law.

[In the ballroom, "Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong is playing.]

Nurse Heidi: This curtain jerker is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Snap Finger, Georgia. Weighing in at 222 pounds, this is the Snap Mare Kid!

[SMK prances out, gets on his knees and bows to the audience. He then applauds as he walks down the aisle.]

SW: Ha! He's the only one in here applauding.

Styles: SMK's got a standing ovation of one. But SMK no doubt is out for revenge tonight after what happened last month at A Chance Would Be A Fine Thing 2. SMK was brutalized after his teammate, DJ Rawkus, ran out of the cage.

SW: DJ still came out a winner. Unlike SMK.

Styles: Scotty, they were on the same team!

SW: Were they Styles? Were they really?

Styles: Yes!

SW: Well, that may be, but DJ Rawkus is still a winner in my book, and SMK is just some crazy Christian.

Voiceover: Hey Carjack, why don't you put that big ol' 12-inch on my turntable?

["Thumpin' in Da Howse" plays.]

NH: And his opponent., representing Lookout, California, this is DJ Rawkus!

[DJ Rawkus, one-half of Lay-Z, heads out. He flashes several fingers in random order as he hip hops down the aisle.]

SW: Is he having an epileptic fit? Or is that what he considers dancing?

Styles: Sadly, that's some sort of dancing. And did you notice that? He's got a pineapple around his neck.

SW: Pineapple bling? Where's the giant clock?

Styles: I guess it's pineapple time. Hey, what's this?

[Pete Trable and MC Carjack head out.]

SW: Oh no. Don't tell me they're coming here?

Styles: You just saw the script.

SW: The part where it says "MC Carjack and Pete Trable join Styles and Scotty"? Yeah. Shit!

[MC Carjack and Pete Trable join Styles and Scotty.]

MC: Yoizzle, Stylizzle! Scottizzle! Whazzizle!

SW: If I had any money, I'd pay you to go away.

PT: Yo, Scotty, that's harsh.

SW: You? You're OK. It's this guy who annoys me.

PT: He's a heel, bro.

SW: He's a sucky heel. I can't wait until budget cutting season.

MC: Oh yeah, dogg? Yo, I can't wait til kickin' Scotty's ass season! Why donchoo come say that on the wesside a Lookout, foo'!

Styles: How are your pecs, Pete?

PT: Fine. What an odd question to ask.

Styles: Any chance of you ripping them and maybe being out injured for six months?

PT: I don't think so.

Styles: Oh. Well. What about those rumors that you're gonna be on that reality show?

PT: What, "Joe Hundredaire"? Yeah.

Styles: Tell us about it.

PT: Well...20 lucky ladies will live with me in an efficiency apartment in Sin City. The girls are told that I've inherited hundreds of dollars and I'm looking for a potential long-term booty call. I take them to tons of local joints, like Ammu-Nation to shoot off some guns, Binco's for some threads, and Cluckin' Bell for some greasy delights.

SW: Oh, I've seen this one before. Let me guess. You're actually not a hundredaire, you're dirt poor?

PT: It's just like a M. Night Shamalamabingbonon movie! What a twist! Yo, whudafxup wit' this, yo?

Styles: It looks like DJ Rawkus is flexing for SMK? And now SMK is feeling the muscle?

SW: What a gay homosexual.

Styles: And now Rawkus is feeling SMK's wrist? What is going on here?

PT: Yo, this gives a WHOLE 'nother meaning to feeling out process, yo.

SW: Who was the agent for this match, Da Sassy Bitch.

Faint Voice: I'm not gay.

MC: Yoizzle, SMKizzle izzizzle suchizzle azzle fagizzle.

Generic Ref: I won't allow this. Wrestle or you're both DQed.

DJ: Yo, homeroom! Don't be messin' wit' my flow, homestretch!

[Generic Ref punches him. The crowd laughs.]

SMK: Haw-haw!

Styles: And here we go finally. Rawkus on the attack with some kicks. Lots of kicks, actually. And he breaks up the monotony with a punch. And SMK is tossed to the floor. SMK crashes into the Flimsy Guardrail™. But SMK charges back


Styles: Russian leg...snapmare? The man of 1,000 snapmares strikes again.

PT: Yo, what was up with that girly scream? That was freaky, yo.

MC: Fagizzle.

Styles: They're back in the ring. Rawkus with a...variation of a hip toss there. Rawkus is uniquely pathetic.

SW: I thought that's how you described Rob Van Spam?

Styles: Yeah, well, he doesn't work here anymore, so DJ Rawkus takes that crown. And Pete, what's up with him bringing down a pineapple?

PT: What? He's the king of the pineapple cage match, yo! Give the devil his due. Even from a recliner in the lobby of the hotel, he carried his inferior team to victory. He's a born leader.

SW: Is that the game pineapple? They awarded it to him for his MVP-like performance?

PT: Exactly, Scotty. He recognizes. Why don't you?

Styles: Lots of back and forth action in the ring. Rawkus getting by with main weapons, kicks and punches, and SMK with his 1,000 variations of snapmares. Rawkus whipped to the ropes...SNAPMARE FROM HELL!

PT: Uh oh.

Styles: One! Two and no! DJ somehow kicked out. SMK lifts DJ Rawkus up. Go 2 Snapmare! Cover! One! Two and NO! Again, Rawkus kicks out. SMK charges, but Rawkus plays a human speed bump, and SMK tumbles to the floor.

SW: Oh look, DJ Rawkus is about to do his impression of your rap career, Pete. Straight down.

PT: Yo, that's harsh!

Styles: Incoming! And Rawkus just hit a suicide dive and took out SMK.

PT: That's only cuz the guy writing this show grew up in the 'burbs with the rest of the white devils.

Styles: Mr. Leary ain't got no flow?

PT: Yo, him tryin' to flow is like Scotty tryin' to piss with the clap.

SW: Hey!

Styles: Rawkus trying to hit a German suplex, but SMK is blocking it.

MC: Lookout, ho! Ho! Ho!

SW: Shut up, Santa Claus.

MC: Yo, I'm givin' my boy hoodsider support! Look! It worked!

Styles: Rawkus just connected with a Hoodsider Edge. Cover! One, two and NO! Oh no. Here it comes.

Crowd: Boo!

Styles: Three Card Monte shuffle connects. One, two and...NO!

SW: Whoever taught him that move should be shot.

MC: Yo, I taught him that move, foo'!

SW: Exactly.

Styles: SMK trying for a snapmare, but DJ just dropped him on his head. Damn! Rawkus on the middle rope, waiting for SMK to get up. Uh oh. Rawkus was trying for an indahoodanconrana, but SMK caught him. What's he gonna do with him? Rawkus is launched. Snapmare drop! He pulls up Rawkus. Liger snapmare! One! Two! NO!

PT: Yo, maybe it's time we helped out our bro.

MC: Yeah, yeah!

[Carjack heads to the ring, grabs the pineapple and gets on the apron.]

SW: Two bucks says they screw this one up.

PT: FIVE bucks says they screw this one up.

Styles: Carjack is arguing with Generic Ref. He just tossed the pineapple into play. Both men go for it. Snapmare Of Fate by SMK on the pineapple! He gets rid of the evidence. Generic Ref is there now. One! Two! Three. SMK gets the victory.

NH: Here is your winner, SMK...the Snap Mare Kid!

SW: Pete, you should really get a DNA test, make sure you're related to them.

PT: You may be right, Scotty. Yo, everyone just saw Rawkus get beat by a snapmare. And don't forget to catch the XFactor on "Joe Hundredaire!" I'm lookin' to get me some slit. And if I get an STD, well...I really don't give a...

[Headset in the air.]

SW: Shit!

[Inside BigBOSS's suite, BigBOSS was under the covers, moaning and writhing in pain.]

BigB: I need some horse tranquilizers! The pain! The pain!

Mrs. Behave: Oh, come on, Stuart. It can't be that bad. You fell onto a carpeted floor.

BigB: Very hard! Owwww! Please? Will you just go down to the lobby and get me some horse tranqs from the lobby? Ohoohoohoo!

Mrs. Behave: They really sell those in the lobby?

BigB: Of course they do. Owwww! Ohhhh! Oooohohohooo!

[Mrs. Behave looks at Eliza.]

Mrs. Behave: Eliza, how about you go down and get them.

Eliza: Of course! I'd do AAAAAAANYTHING, to make sure he feels better.

[Dead silence.]

BigB: Uncomfortable...

[There's a knock at the door.]

BigB: Thank god. Come in!

Voice: It's a hotel door. It's locked.

BigB: Oh, right. Eliza? Would you mind getting it.

Eliza: Sure thing, BOSSy.

Mrs. Behave? BOSSy?


Axl Van Halen: Ah! What?

Eliza: It's AAAAAAAXL!

BigB: Axl? I don't want to talk to you. You defiled our ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. And my back hurts.

AVH: I have some business to discuss with you BigBOSS. It involves BOB making money.

BigB: Money? Girls, please, leave us to our business. You can BOTH get me some pills. Go. Now. Axl, speak!

[Inside the ballroom, "Lies Lies Lies" by Ministry is playing. Little Good gets a few boos and a lot of apathy.]

NH: The following contest is scheduled for one run-in FALL! Scheduled for one fall.

SW: What?

NH: Introducing first, from Cloudydale, weighing 180 pounds. He's so pretty, oh so pretty, pretty vacant...and one-third of Threedom....he's Little Good!

SW: I seriously can't believe this guy was named after a Sex Pistols song. You think he was conceived to this song?

Styles: It couldn't be any worse than "Early One Morning."

SW: Josh Wheaton is one bitter man. Was he the head of The Federation?

Styles: Mutant Enemy stole our identities! They only changed them a little bit so we couldn't sue them!

SW: Are you sure it wasn't the other way around? "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" did come on the air in 1997. I don't think you guys even existed before 2002...

Styles: We did too! We just hadn't found BOB yet to prove we existed.

SW: Riiiight.

["Are We Ourselves" by the Fixx plays. The crowd pops.]

NH: And his opponent. From Dimension Z, weighing in at 150 pounds. This is Mr. Paradox!

Styles: Yet more blowback as a result of the CAGE OF PINEAPPLE match from last month. Mr. Paradox blames Little Good for their team losing that cage match.

SW: He got knocked out by a foam finger. Just imagine if he had gotten hit by one of those foam Lynette "Bull" Dykstra fists.

Styles: Ewwww.

SW: He could've had a concussion! Or worse if he had gotten hit by one of Sir Hungalot's vibrating foam third legs. That was a hot seller among the lady BOB viewers.

Styles: Before my time, thankfully. Paradox has sure been on a slide since losing to Axl Van Halen at Living in Sin.

SW: Well, he hasn't been much of a player since Steve Studnuts taught him the way things work around here. He hates young, popular wrestlers who are over with the crowd. Just like Triple H!

Styles: Looks like this one is ready to start. Both men lock up. Little Good trying for a wristlock.


[Little Good drops the hold and collapses to his knees, holding his head.]

LG: Bloody chip!

SW: Huh. I guess Paradox isn't a jobber. Could've fooled me.

Styles: He's got a good win-loss record here in BOB, Scotty. This one should be a cakewalk for Paradox.

SW: Don't let Harker hear you use that word. Massive Man may have to eat his own cake words later tonight in the main event.

Styles: Hoodanconrana by Paradox, nicely done! Little Good is taken down with the headscissors. And there's a dropkick.

SW: Can't Little Good just snort a bunch of ants? Wouldn't that take care of that Dorito in his head?

Styles: You should suggest that to him. Isn't he in your stable?

SW: Crap! I keep forgetting that!

Styles: Scotty, you have got one of the worst stables ever. Has Randall Mooby EVER won a match?

SW: Sure. He had two wins against his pillow at least.

Styles: His pillow?

SW: Yeah. He was the Randall Mooby's Bedroom Wrestling World Champion. He had to have beaten his pillow at some point to get that title.

Styles: Who was the number one contender?

SW: Apparently Randall and Papa Smurf had an epic feud that ended with a brutal falls count anywhere match. Smurf apparently did a blade job and was losing buckets of stuffing.

Styles: Maybe we should bring back Insano Stuffo Animo for him to feud with. Paradox with a springboard kick. And Little Good out to the floor, looking for a breather. But Paradox following him out. Little Good's got Paradox's sword!

MP: Oh, come on. Cut my head off, if you can. Look at this jugular. Betcha can't hit it!

LG: The Little Good is back!

Styles: He swings!


Styles: Paradox with a dropkick!

SW: Yowza! Paradox just dropkicked that sword into Little Good's face. With his bare feet!

Styles: Oh my GOD!

SW: That gives new meaning to a blade job.

Styles: Paradox is wearing some crimson shoes right now! And Little Good wearing a crimson mask! I've never seen anything like that before.

SW: I guess I should've known Paradox was an complete idiot when I saw him farting into his car's gas tank.

Styles: Well, maybe they don't have cars in Dimension Z? Both guys are crawling back into the ring. Little Good going for the cover. But only gets a one count. And Paradox is now just pummeling Little Good. Paradox is literally leaving his foot prints all over Little Good now with those bloody feet.

SW: Bloody hell indeed. That's what this match is.

Styles: Paradox connects with a high kick right there.

SW: Eww. I just got foot blood all over me. This is turning into a splatter flick. Is Heidi going to be kidnapped and put in an ice shower?

Styles: You're sick!

SW: Oh, please, like you wouldn't pay to see that?

Styles: That's not the issue. Paradox on the top rope! But Little Good is up. He runs into the ropes.

[Paradox is crotched on the top rope. Little Good pulls out a cigarette and starts to light it.]

GR: Hey, you can't smoke that. This is a smoke-free building.

LG: What are you gonna do? Disqualify me for smoking?

GR: It's all fun and games until an entire state is engulfed in flames.

LG: Oh, piss off.

SW: Hey! It's SMP!

Styles: As Little Good and Generic Ref are arguing about smoking, SMP just came in through the crowd. He's got a crutch!


SW: Oh man! Now that was a World Series swing. Eat your heart out David Ortiz!

Styles: What business does SMP have with Mr. Paradox?

SW: I think this is part of Plants's plan to get back at Sir Zeno for attacking him a couple months back.

Styles: Hello! Crutch to the crotch! Oh, Plants is just grinding it in there!

SW: And Generic Ref can't feel all these vibrations going on, right?

Styles: His feet suffered severe nerve damage as a child. He was attacked by porcupines.

SW: Seriously?

Styles: And there it is! Nipple Cutter!

SW: Paradox may need to visit Dr. Penis N. Larger after that abuse with the crutch.

Styles: Little Good with a cover. Can you believe this? One! Two! Three! Little Good beats Mr. Paradox! How is that even possible?

SW: Just call Mr. Paradox's match a botched tittie job, courtesy of the Sinister Surgeon!

Styles: Little Good with the unbelievable upset. What a brutal, bloody, violent match that was.

[The lights dim. "Not All Who Wander Are Lost" by DevilDriver hits. Trey Vincent and Steve Studnuts meander out, carrying skull canes. They smile all the way down the aisle, soaking up the loud boos from the crowd.]

Styles: Oh, NO! It's the iAd!

SW: Steve Studnuts and Paradox have a long, long history of hatred towards each other. And Vincent is pissed about Sir Zeno putting him out of action for about a year. BOB nearly shut down without Trey Vincent. God, remember when you and Heidi booked that show?

Styles: Don't remind me. Pigeon and Death for two solid hours? Luckily, Michelle and BigBOSS got this place back on its feet yet again.

SW: Luckily? For who? 2006 was like my lost weekend. It's one long blackout. I miss that year.

Styles: Weren't you back in 1997 or something?

SW: Actually, yeah, I was...I think. Damn 1997ers. That's why BOB fell apart. It wasn't because of Trey. It was because I wasn't here!

Styles: Studnuts grabs Paradox. Death Valley (Of The Sun) Driver! And here it comes, the most entertaining move in parody sports entertainment today! The Big Time Fist Drop!

[Trey bounces off all four sides of the ring, and then lands drives his fists onto Paradox's bloody feet.]

Styles: Vincent and Studnuts are going after Paradox's injured feet. Oh no! They're handcuffing his feet to the top rope!

SW: Wow. They're stealing torture tactics from the CIA!

Styles: I can't watch this!





Styles: This is SICKENING! They are caning Paradox's bloody feet!

SW: Midnight Paradox! BWAHAHAHA!

Styles: The fans are throwing all sorts of garbage in the ring. They don't like this one bit.

SW: Banana peels? Empty milk cartons? Pizza crusts? Didn't anybody frisk these fans before they came in here? This isn't a landfill.

Styles: It's apparently take your trash to BOB night. I wish I had known. My apartment is a mess. Fans, this is just brutal. Mr. Paradox may have just been put out of action indefinitely after this assault.

November in Nowhere logo

Caption: Nowhere, Oklahoma

Caption: (Pre-Taped)

[Fade up on Axl, who is standing before a throng of stuffed animal paparazzi outside of a trailer. He is wearing a Marilyn Manson T-shirt and a pin that says "I Am A Goth."]

Axl: I am not thankful for my soul, which wreaks of the pain you give me, all you. I am not thankful for my breath, for I cannot breathe in this world. I am not thankful for pink or yellow. They cloud my eyes with false emotion.

Axl: Open your eyes to the darkness. I am thankful for my black, dark, sorrowful heart. My soul is darker, and blacker than the most charred turkey on Thansgiving, cooked by the most stupidest cook ever. Is it you? Probably. You suck.

Axl: The humid, sickly sweet stench of the melting of turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce, and coming out as a noxious black gas and an even blacker dookie...the food is swallowed up in the darkness of my burning intestines. I wish I could be in there. I wish I could swallow myself whole. I'd leave you all to go there now, to smell that sweetness of my bowels and soul entering into the next world.

Axl: I'm so nauseous. This world makes me ill. Why don't you all jump into thou river of darkness. Cut yourself. Melt with me into our pain.

[Axl pulls out a bowl of Count Chocula and begins eating.]

Axl: (To camera, spitting out cereal as he speaks) Are nyou spying on meh?

Clive: (Voice) You asked me to be here. And by the way. Worst. Assignment. Ever.

Axl: I mock you Mr. Camera Holding Guy. Questions? Yes, SpongeBob?

SpongeBob: ...

Axl: Why are we here? God, you're so boring. Where's my blood? I'll slit your guts and use your body parts to inscribe pentagrams and upside down crosses on local churches and schools. We're here to announce that on Thanksgiving weekend, there is going to be a show here that will air on Nick At Nite. Brawlers On a Budget will team up, for the very first time, with the Nowhere-based promotion, BLOW. The Buff Lads of Wrestling. And that event will be called....November In Nowhere. I hope you all die. Next question? Yes, dancing Santa?

Santa: Jingle jingle jingle, you will hear my sleighbell ring. I am old Kris Kringle! I'm the king of jing-a-ling, HO HO!

Axl: Get him out of here. Security?

[The Heirarchy runs out and smashes Santa with a frozen turkey.]

Axl: Finally, I am thankful to my cousin Ernie for making this TV deal happen. I hope as your reward, you get eternal blackly black blackness. It's gonna be more of a breakout than spring. It's gonna be wilder than a road, or a hog. It's gonna be Nowhere In November...wait...November In Nowhere! Presented by the Savior. The only wrestler that matters. The metal god. I am goth...hear me non-conform...And now my favorite part. Fade to black number one!

[Fade to black number one.]

[Cut to Trey Vincent and Steve Studnuts.]

TV: It's official. BigBOSS is out of his mind.

SS: Son of a fuckin' bitch. Gatdamn, Treyster. You've got to get your old job back.

TV: BigBOSS wants TV. Trey Vincent will give him TV!

SS: Uhhh, do you mean Trey Vincent or television?

TV: Yes?

SS: Which?

TV: What?

SS: Fuck! Never mind. Let's go.

TV: Hey, where's that Beth Phoenix Arizona chick?

SS: Let me guess. You'd rather be in Arizona?

TV: Actually, I'd rather be in Misty. I was just thinking with that friggin' Eliza chick hanging around, maybe Beth could break Eliza's clavicle or something.

SS: Maybe next month.

["Spybreak" by Propellerheads starts playing. Studnuts and Vincent stop dead in their tracks. The camera shoots up the hallway in a blurry, fast-moving shot, where suddenly Massive Man Rendition First and Jim "Totally Packaged" are walking in slow-motion towards them, wearing all black, shades and trenchcoats, toting some serious cake ammo. The camera does a 180 and shoots back down the hall to Studnuts and Vincent, who look at each other, then charge at Jim and Massive Man.]

[Jim and Massive Man, stuck in Wachoski mode, can't defend themselves as Vincent grabs Jim's hands and pulls up, smashing the cakes into Jim's own face, while Studnuts does the same to Massive Man. Studnuts and Vincent walk away laughing, wiping cake off themselves. Already covered in cake bits, Jim and Massive Man have a severe delayed reaction and then do a simulatenous backwards bend. Suddenly, there is a needle scratch sound effect and both men collapse to the floor from the awkward position.]

MMR1: Bad idea. Bad, bad idea, dude.

Jim: How does Seth pull it off? Dude, you may be in serious trouble tonight.

[Kay Fabe is seen at the front desk.]

KF: Excuse me, sir. Where might I possibly find some steroids, an electrical cord, a sheet, a bible, and somebody named Massive Man, eh?

Clerk: Pardon me?

[Kay smiles, revealing a gap in her normally perfect smile.]

Eliza "The Jobber Slayer": Excuse me! Hehehe! Where are your horse tranquilizers!

KF: So...we meet again...


Voice-Over: Hail Santa! Hail Santa! Hail Santa!

[The lights dim as "Thus Spake the Nightspirit" by Emperor plays. Lord Athackkimentham and Uber Vamp step out, looking all evil. Or lame, depending on your point of view. They are booed a bit.]

NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is for the Not Good Enough To Fight Alone Tag Team Titles. Introducing first, at a combined weight of...uh...5...7...4...475 pounds...they represent the Skull & Bones Society, the reigning NGETFA tag team champions, Uber Vampire Warrior and Lord Athackkimentham!

Styles: Big match coming up here. Let's take a quick look back and see how this match came about.

Caption: A Chance Would Be A Fine Thing 2! NOW AVAILABLE AT WWW.BOBWRESTLING.COM!!!!!!!

Caption: But seriously....leave out all the exclamation points. We're not saying you're stupid....but we seem to be implying it.....

Generic Ref: Zeno's got two Kings. Zeno and Mooby win!

Kurt Angel : Darnit!

[Back to live action.]

SW: Was that really necessary?

Styles: We've gotta pimp our archives. We need clicks...I mean downloads! Speaking of which...BOB's Massively Cool is brought to you tonight by whatever banner ads Google's showing at the moment!

SW: What is this? Pay-per-click now?

Styles: I guess, technically it is. People click on the shows. So they have to "click" it to view it.

SW: I think it's just a sneaky way of hinting at our viewers to click on those Google ads up there.

Styles: Would we stoop to something that low? That's not even allowed per the Google AdSense agreement.

SW: So you're not drawing attention to that ad by talking about it this much?

Styles: You're the one talking about it. Don't blame me if you get us thrown off the Google.

SW: Please. As if BigBOSS cares about the 43 cents he'll make off this show from that. *Pfffft*

[Cut to BigBOSS and Mrs. Behave.]

BigB: Where's the Great Tiny?

Mrs. Behave: I'll check...

[Cut to Scotty.]

SW: Give me that copy, Styles, you idiot! BOB'S MASSIVELY COOL IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY--

Styles: Hold on! Sir Zeno and Randall Mooby have just attacked the champs!

SW: Damnit! I don't want to get my ass kicked again! I didn't agree to take any bumps tonight.

Styles: And I guess it'll save Heidi the embarrassment of doing math in front of the crowd. Lord A and Uber Vamp with stereo cross-body blocks. One! One! Two! Two! And no! And no!

SW: Stop that, Styles!

Styles: Sorry. Generic Ref wasn't doing a double count for some reason. Uber Vamp's got Mooby. Belly to belly slams him onto Sir Zeno. And now look at this. Uber Vamp's got a double side headlock going on both Zeno and Mooby.

SW: Great. Two boring restholds for the price of one.


Styles: Oh MAN! Lord A just connected with a dropkick to the top of both Zeno and Mooby's skulls!

SW: That's a little better. Though the crowd is still incredibly pro-Sir Zeno here, so they're not liking it.

Styles: I don't get why they're so popular.

SW: They're heels. Here, check this out.

[Scotty grabs the house mic from Nurse Heidi.]

SW: Hey, Sin City, you guys rule!


SW: Hey, Sin City, fuck you!


SW: See?

Styles: I guess I see now. It's almost like Bizarro World here in Sin City. Especially if fans actually like Sir Zeno.

[Scotty returns to the announce desk.]

Styles: Skull & Bones Society seems to be targeting the neck of Sir Zeno here tonight, Scotty. Good strategy here by Skull & Bones, as Uber Vamp loves that Impaler DDT, and of course, Lord Athackkimentham employs the devastating Santanic Slaughter maneuver.

SW: I wouldn't be sad to see Zeno go. Especially after all the crap he's done to me over the years. I mean, why can't I make fun of his girlfriend? Or whatever Mylisiv is to him these days. I have to live in fear that if I want to say something like, hey Queen Mylisiv, let's see if yellow and blue makes green.

Styles: Excuse me?

SW: You know. Like if I pee on her.

Styles: SCOTTY! You can't say stuff like that!

[Zeno suddenly explodes back and smashes his elbow into Lord A's face.]

SW: You don't think he heard me, do you?

Styles: Considering the death stare he's got aimed at you right now?

SW: Alex, Little Good, if you're listening...come out here now! I need backup.

Styles: Oh, don't let him come out here. Oh great, here they are.

Alex Smith: (Bullhorning) 9/11 was an inside job! 9/11 was an inside job! 9/11 was an inside job!

Styles: And that distracts Sir Zeno for just a moment, who looked like he was on his way over here to Eternal Question you. Lord A with an armdrag on Mooby. And now he's got a neck vice locked in on him.

AS: (Bullhorning) Terrorism and human rights abuses will end when imperialism ends. Terror is used by the state as an instrument of foreign policy and domestic control. Human rights abuses are a function of terror. Certainly there are psychopaths within races, nations and religions, but they would be easily controlled if not so often employed by state actors for geopolitical purposes. Al Qaeda was created by the British and the U.S. for the purpose of weakening the Soviet Union. It continues to be useful to the United States and global imperialists because it justifies the use of force anywhere in the world.

AS: (Still bullhorning...) Look on a map, wherever you see a place where the global elite have identified necessary resources or trade routes, you will find that Al Qaeda or something similar is active. You will also find well-meaning activists urging UN intervention, which will be followed by a corporate takeover and privatisation of the natural resources of the target nation. From Afghanistan, to Iraq to the Sudan, to Indonesia the pattern is the same. Say NO to world government! Say NO to slavery. Say NO the elite SCUM, who want to kill 80 percent of us! Don't give up your freedom! Don't let them take your guns. And don't let them kill the Constitution! No U.N.! No U.N.! No U.N.!

[About three people chant along with his call for the end of the United Nations.]

Styles: Meanwhile, there IS a match going on. We just couldn't get a word in edge-wise. There's a toss slam by Zeno on Lord A, who has been trapped in the ring for a while. Oh, and another brutal slam by Zeno.

SW: Uber Vamp doesn't seem too worried. He's just sipping some red wine from a glass in his corner. He's so sophisticated for a guy with fangs, a puffy shirt, and a mullet.

Styles: I hope that's wine.

SW: Maybe it's Blood Lite?

Styles: Here comes Mooby. Leg drop between the legs.

SW: I swear, Alex and Little Good are almost as good as being protected by Blackwater. Now if only they'd take out Zeno, they'd be as good as them.

Styles: Maybe you can call them PollutedWater.

SW: That's catchy. And fitting for them.

Styles: Uber Vamp just went after Zeno and now they're brawling around ringside.

SW: Damn drunks, always starting fights. Zeno tossed into the Flimsy Guardrail¢¡™! Whoops, forgot where the ™ key was.

Styles: Scotty! Where's the professionalism?

SW: When I can't play basketball with my checks, then you'll get your professionalism.

Styles: Why do I doubt that?

SW: Sorry, Styles, hold on. I'm being informed by legal that the ™ should have been an ®. Now they're arguing about it...more on this as it develops...

Styles: Fine, fine. Hold on, Lord A with an armbreaker on Mooby. Mooby's in some serious pain.

SW: Oh no! That's his burger flipping arm. Oh, this is personal now. He's trying to take money out of my man's pockets...and MINE!

Styles: You get a piece of his job at the Doublemeat Palace?

SW: I'm his manager. You think I'd make any money off his BOB salary? Think about it, Styles.

Styles: Have you actually helped your boys achieve anything since taking over?

SW: Didn't you see Little Good beat Mr. Paradox? My genius plan.

Styles: It was your genius plan to have Dr. Silaconne M. Plants come down and assault him with a crutch?

SW: Sure.

Styles: Oh, give me a break.

SW: Hey, the wrestling gods are on our side. If I wasn't managing him, I'm sure Little Good would've managed to blow it somehow.

Styles: That may very well be. But it doesn't make you a great manager.

SW: You're gonna eat those words after Mooby takes home the gold tonight.

Styles: You mean, if Zeno wins the titles for him?

SW: Quit spinning my words around so they paint a more accurate picture of things!

Styles: Uber Vamp eats the post.

SW: That could break a fang.

Styles: Zeno tags back in. Spear by Zeno. One! Two and, NO!

AS: (Bullhorning) Here we go, Mooby, here we go!

Crowd: SHUT UP!

AS: (Bullhorning) Here we go, Mooby, here we go!

Crowd: SHUT UP!

Styles: Did you see that? Little Good just blew smoke in Lord A's face.

SW: Way to give him lung cancer, LG!

Styles: Mooby's back in. Vertical suplex.

SW: As opposed to what, a horizontal suplex? Way to call a match, geometry boy.

Styles: Lord A kicks out at two. That was close. Whip to the ropes, but Lord A counters into a sunset flip! One! Two! No! And I don't think Uber Vamp has even gotten into this match legally yet.

SW: That last time that happened, one of his opponents was wearing garlic around his neck. Holy crap, did you just see that?

Styles: Mooby with a modified piledriver.

SW: Modified? Is that what you call a botched move?

Styles: Yes.

SW: Oh. Alright then.

Styles: That was scary.

SW: Did the Sandman start a wrestling school?

Styles: Why would you ask ME that? I've never met the Sandman.

SW: Really? Isn't Mr. ECW, Joey, your cousin? Are you saying you lied on your bio? Isn't that a fireable offense? I should tell Monroe about that.

Styles: He's a very distant cousin. Drop it, Scotty. Zeno drops the elbow on Lord A! Cover! One! Two and no! Mooby tagged back in. Zeno and Mooby are quite the team.

SW: Yeah. I could never deal with his ego, though. Besides...Fourdom? That just doesn't have a ring to it.

Styles: You could always kick Little Good out.

LG: Hey! Bite your tongue, Styles.

Styles: Mooby just ran into a desperation hoodanconrana by Lord A. And there's a DDT for Zeno, who charges in. He finally makes the tag to Uber Vampire Warrior! Uber Vampire Warrior is going "30 Days Of Night" on Mooby and Zeno.

SW: Yeah, Uber Vamp trying to make sure all Lord A's efforts to stay alive weren't in vein! BWAHAHAHA!

Styles: There's the double arm belly to belly suplex on Zeno. And there's a neckbreaker for Mooby.

SW: Uber Vamp does like to target the neck. No doubt weakening him up for some dinner.

Styles: I've never seen him bite anybody in the ring, Scotty.

SW: Well, I heard he's been working on a new finishing move. I warned Mooby about it.

Styles: That one? Impaler DDT on Mooby! One! Two! But Zeno breaks it up!

SW: Lord A just grabbed Mooby and tosses him outside. Oh no! Look out boys!

Styles: Incoming!

Crowd: OHHHHH!

Styles: Lord A with a dive through the ropes that just took out Threedom! There goes your security team, Scotty. And Zeno just saw it. But lookout from behind! Uber Vamp grabs Zeno. Zeno kicks him. Eternal Question coming up! NO! Are you kidding me?

SW: It's the Eternal Kiss! I told you!

[Blood begins dripping down Zeno's neck.]

Styles: Oh dear lord. This is disgusting.

SW: Fangsgiving has come early for Uber Vamp. Sir Zeno is fading. Generic Ref checks the arm. It drops. Checking again. It falls a second time. One more time and this one is all over. IT'S OVER! Uber Vamp with the Eternal Kiss...and what a counter for the Eternal Question.

NH: The winners of the match, and STILL NGETFA champions...the Skull & Bones Society!

Styles: It's Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano!

SW: Did Ken just hit Uber Vamp with a can of corn wrapped in barbed wire?

Styles: I think so...hard as it is to believe. What is the meaning of this? Why are Ken and Mano out here?


Styles: OH my GOD! Mano just smashed a lightbulb covered in barbed wire over Uber Vamp's skull!

SW: I guess Mano and Ken want to get a tag title match or something. Why earn it. Just attack the champs, right?

Styles: That certainly is the tried and true method in wrestling. Attack the champs, and suddenly you're the number one contender.

SW: Oh man! Did you see that? They've got one of the huge boards, but instead of it being covered in barbed wire, there are MOUSE TRAPS all over it!

Styles: Oh my god. This is going to be painful. Oh NO!


Styles: Ken's got a flaming cross!

SW: I had no idea he was a member of the KKK. Though I guess I should have guessed with the initials KK. Damn! It's so obvious now.

Styles: NOOOO! He just hit Uber Vamp with the cross! OH MY GOD! And Uber Vamp's on fire! This is EXTREME! And Ken is NOT in the KKK. Stop it!

SW: Sure, then why is he hiding his face?

Styles: Now they're turning their attention to Lord A. Oh NO! They're setting him up on top...What in the? REVERSE HOODANKENRANA!


Styles: Lord A just landed face first in the mouse traps! OH MY GOD! And there's an Insano-Sault!


Styles: The crowd is loving it. Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano with one EXTREME statement here at Massively Cool.

SW: Man, Uber Vamp can just lick himself if he wants blood tonight. Look at the blood streaming down his face. He's his own all he can drink buffet!

Styles: Well fans, I think it's time to head backstage to--

["Not All Who Wander Are Lost" by DevilDriver hits.]

Styles: Oh NO! Not the iAd again!

[Studnuts and Vincent run down the aisle, as Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano leave the ring.]

Styles: I guess Ken and Mano don't want any part of them.

SW: Am I imagining things? Vincent and Studnuts coming to the rescue of ANYBODY? What's going on here.

Styles: They're pulling Lord A off the mouse traps. And they're rolling him out of the ring. Oh NOW I see what's going on.

SW: They're all alone with Zeno! Oh MAN. Zeno is a dead man bleeding.

Styles: They drag Zeno up. OH NO!


Styles: Death Valley (Of The Sun) Driver into the mouse traps! Come on! Zeno is hurt!

[The crowd loudly boos Studnuts and Vincent, who smile and laugh at the crowd.]

Styles: The iAd is the lowest of the low. They attack and already bruised and bloody Zeno and further inflict pain.

SW: Kick a man when he's down. Then kick him again and again and again. It's the iAd way.

Styles: Zeno's up again. Now what? Oh NO! Trey's got Zeno hooked.

SW: Med Degree?

Styles: Vincent calls this move the Glass Ceiling. It's pretty much the Med Degree though, although Vincent was using this years before SMP used that move.


Styles: OH my GOD! Stop this! Glass Ceiling into the mouse traps. Zeno may NEVER recover from this attack. First Paradox, now Zeno? The iAd is taking out their enemies fast and brutally.

SW: Awesome. Zeno is covered in mouse traps. This is great!

Styles: It looks like the iAd is done for now. We'll be back.

[Kevin the Pyromaniac is merrily walking along a hallway somewhere in the Riviera, singing a happy little tune.]

KtP: (Singing) Dream of Californincineration...

Kurt Angel: KEVIN!

KtP: Kurt!

KA: You little arsonist bastard. I KNOW it was you.

KtP: I didn't start that fire. It was al Qaeda! FOX News said so!

KA: Not that fire. The one where Dr. Thrilla's CD's got burned.

KtP: When was that? Like three months ago? Dude, BOB doesn't do long-term angles. You know that. Give me your P.I. license.

KA: Why?

KtP: Just do it.

[Reluctantly, Kurt hands it over. Kevin pulls out a lighter and sets it on fire.]

KtP: (Evil laugh) Mwaahaahaahaahaa!

KA: No! You son of a bitch!

KtP: Who's the idiot now?

[Kevin turns around, trips over a mouse and smashes into the wall. The mouse climbs on top of Kevin. A referee runs into the shot and makes the count.]

Referee: 1! 2! 3!

[The mouse bites Kevin's face.]

KtP: Owww! Stupid mouse! I'm not cheese!

[Dr. Thrilla wanders by.]

Dr. Thrilla: *Mocking metal clanging*

KA: Couldn't have said it better myself.

[Angel and Thrilla walk away.]

["This Is XXXtreme" by Harry Dick & The No-Tones hits as we return to the ballroom.]

NH: The following is a six-man tag team match, scheduled for one fall. Introducing first...from North Dakota, weighing 256 pounds, this is XXXtreme Machine.

[XXXtreme Machine steps out and pours a cup of water over himself. He heads down the aisle, looking all retarded and pissed off, getting some pretty big heat from the crowd. He's wearing an XxXAf shirt.]

Styles: What is that shirt?

SW: I'm afraid to find out.

XM: hy u fukin suk b@gz!! i m so harkor!

SW: If he's Seth Harker, then I'm Keanu Reeves.

XM: i m stratin teh XXXAD! XXXteme apethe dizoder!

Styles: Oh, brother. Is he delusional? He wants to form his own knockoff of the iAd?

SW: His shirts are all misspelled! What an idiot. How do you mess up a "D" with an "F"?

Styles: Well, they are right next to each other on the keyboard. And most definitely right next to each other on his high school report cards, before they kicked him out.

["Not All Who Wander Are Lost" by DevilDriver hits, and the lights dim.]

NH: And his tag team partners.

XM: hidee ken i rp ov ur shit 2nit?

NH: Get the hell away from me! Trey Vincent and Steve Studnuts, the incurable Apathy disorder!

Styles: Seth Harker of course will be in the main event later tonight, which I guess explains why XXXtreme Machine is teaming up with the iAd.

SW: Either that, or somebody on the booking committee is having some fun with the cool guys.

Styles: You think Michelle has a grudge or something?

TV: Give me that microphone, jerkweed.

SS: Huh?

TV: Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to steal your shit, bro.

SS: Whatever, scrub.

TV: Anyway...XXXtreme Machine. Trey Vincent and Steve Studnuts are proud to be teaming with the most hardcore and extreme former ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS!


TV: What's the matter, Sin City? This fed belongs to US! Trey Vincent. Steve Studnuts. Seth Harker. We ARE BOB, whether you like it or not. We shown you how pathetic the "new generation" of BOB is. What a joke. Axl Van Halen? Sir Zeno? Mr. Paradox? Dr. Thrilla? Pete Trable? Pigeon? Are you kidding me? It's like a nobodies nobody of nobodies!

SS: And that's a fact! Nobody in this shit fed is a challenge to us. Especially not these fuckin' jerkweeds we're gonna destroy tonight. C'mon out douja, I'll kick your ass yet AGAIN! Come on out Angel. We'll send you back to heaven, permanently, ya dig? And Mano, here's a special message for you in even a language you can understand...

[Studnuts holds up his middle finger toward the camera.]

Styles: Hold on! Angel, douja and Mano just hit the ring! This one is getting underway right now! douja all over Studnuts and sends him flying! Angel belly to bellies Vincent to the floor! OH my GOD! Mano charges at XXXtreme with a handspring...suplex to the floor! OH MY GOD! I've NEVER seen anything like that before!

[The team gets a good ovation from the crowd as they're standing tall in the ring.]

Styles: I don't think the iAd was ready for this.

SW: They were sneak attacked by the faces! That's just un-wrestling like! And how dare they cut into the iAd's preciously limited microphone time.

Styles: Oh, come on, Scotty. They've been in more segments than Generic Ref can count tonight.

SW: The iAd are damn entertaining, though. Not like these other idiots, Matchbox 4:20 and Mano. Hell, Mano probably is bringing in all the pot these two stoners are smoking.

Styles: Vincent heading into the ring first, and he's going to face off with douja here. Vincent charges, and they're pounding away on each other with vicious rights and lefts.

SW: Yeah! Studnuts and XXXtreme Machine just attacked the other two idiots.

Styles: This match is already out of control, and we're barely 30 seconds into it.

SW: These three have some big grudges against the iAd. The iAd cost Mano his shot at the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. Studnuts and douja have a long history here in BOB, remember that Snore Games match at Grudge Match A-Go-Go?

Styles: I sure do.

SW: douja doesn't, I'm sure.

NH: Remember when douja and Studnuts were pantless and 69ing?

SW: Oh, why did you have to bring that up?

NH: I figured neither of you would want to mention it.

SW: There's a reason for that.

Styles: You joining us on commentary?

NH: What the hell. I'm doing everything else tonight, including main eventing...

SW: Nuh-uh! You're in the match before the main event.

NH: Oh, whatever, Scotty. It's closer than YOU'LL ever get.

Styles: What's up with you and Studnuts?

SW: I know what's up with Studnuts when Heidi's around. Same thing as me. Woohoo!

NH: Lovely, Scotty. There's nothing going on with me and Steve Studnuts. As you can see, he's kicking some major Kurt Angel ass right now. Go Steve!

Styles: Mano and XXXtreme Machine back in the ring. And there they go. I can't even call this action.

SW: Let's talk to Heidi. This is all brawling anyway. It's not even worth keeping track of it, the viewers can see it for themselves. So, how's it feel to be in a match where you won't even be wearing the most makeup?

NH: Heh, I know. Pretty sad, right? Didn't the '80s die twenty years ago?

[Cut to the strip in Sin City. GBH is running down a busy street, looking behind him as a paper flies past his head.]

Paperboy: Two dollars!

Donk E. Kong: Ook! Ook!

[GBH exhausted, walks toward the street.]

GBH: Duhhhh! TAKFEE!

[A yellow minivan taxi drives toward him and screeches to a halt in front of him. GBH rushes to get in.]


Cab Driver: Where to?

GBH: Uhhhhhh....da whump whump place.

Cab Driver: Yes sir. That's about thirty blocks away. And until can compete for prizes on CASH TAXI!

[Lights start flickering over GBH's head.]

GBH: Duh...pwetty colors!

Cab Driver: I'll be your host, Ben Dover.

GBH: Hur hur hur!

Ben Dover: What's so funny? What's your name?

GBH: Duh...GBH?

Ben Dover: Alright, GBH. Here's how the game works. Cash Taxi will drive you to your destination and ask you general knowledge questions along the way. The questions start out easy, then get harder. The harder the question, the more money it's worth. The first four questions are worth $25 each.

GBH: Two dollars?

Ben Dover: No, $25.

GBH: But...need two dollars.

Ben Dover: You can buy a lot of two dollars with twenty-five dollars.

GBH: Yaaaay!

BD: The game continues until you get three answers wrong. You can ask for help on the street using what we call a "Hey, you!" and you can also do a mobile "Hey, you!" which means you can call someone using a cell phone.

GBH: What dat?

BD: ... A cell phone?

GBH: No...dat!

BD: (Looking in the rearview mirror) That's your hand.

GBH: Yur.

BD: Right. No sense going through the rest of these rules. *Ahem* Alrighty then. First question. Georgraphy: Swahili for "shining mountain," what Kenyan peak is said to be the highest point in the world with cell phone reception? Is it A. Mount Killamanjaro. B. Mount Vesuvius. C. Table Mountain. D. Mount Kenya.

GBH: Duhhh....uh...D-Van! Get the...Table Mountain!

[A giant red X comes up on the screen.]

BD: Sorry, no.

GBH: Smashy smashy hurty hurty! Yur.

BD: Next question. Remember, you only have two strikes left. Politics: Name the controversial U.S. practice of sending suspected terrorists to other countries for interrogation. A. Extraordinary rendition. B. Deviant exile. C. Divergent exile. D. Divergent deportation.

[GBH looks out the window.]

GBH: Looky! Da Fonz! (He holds up a thumb) AYYYYYYYYYY!

BD: A is correct! You just won twenty-five dollars!

GBH: Duhhhh....two dollars?

BD: Plus twenty-three more! Alright, next question. Miscelleneous: Featuring a cavorting deer and antelope, what prairie anthem was written on the idyllic banks of Kansas' Beaver Creek.

GBH: Hur hur hur...beaver.

BD: Is it, A. "Home on the Range." B. "The Range of the Buffalo." C. "Git Along Little Dogies." Or D. "Moon River."

GBH: Duhhh....*incoherent mumbling* (Singing in an ultra deep voice) Old moon river...dat ol' moon river...he don't say nuffin' he must know sumfin'!

BD: Oh, sorry, incorrect. That's two strikes on you now, GBH. One more and you'll have to get out and walk the rest of the way. Next question...History: What 13th-century explorer's book, "Il Millione" was an instant success even though the printing press had not yet been invented. A. Genghis Khan. B. Christopher Columbus. C. Vasco da Gama. Or D. Marco Polo.

GBH: Marco!


GBH: Duhhh...Marco!

BD: Marco Polo is...correct!

GBH: Marco!

BD: You've got $50 from the taxi that pays YOU to ride in it.

[Sound of a cell phone ringing from the front of the taxi.]

BD: sorry. Hello?

[Cut back to the ballroom. Trey Vincent, Steve Studnuts, XXXtreme Machine, douja, Insano Mano and Kurt Angel are all in the ring.]

TV: Hey! What the FUCK is this? "Family Guy"

BD: Who's this?

TV: Trey Vincent! You're cutting into my airtime, pal! This ain't cool!

BD: Sorry. Just doing my job.

TV: I'll job you!

BD: (Super mega-gay lisp) Thuper!

TV: Ew! Fag!

[Trey throws the phone away. Back to the cab.]

BD: Alrighty. Next question. Sorry about that GBH. Never had that happen before.

[Cell phone rings.]

BD: Hello?


[From behind, a cab honks and flashes high-beams at them.]

GBH: Duhhh-oh! Team Pac-Man gonna get me!


BD: I'm under attack! We better hurry this up. Don't worry, GBH. This minivan is reinforced against INDs.

GBH: Whut dat?

BD: Improvised newspaper devices.

GBH: No, whut dat?

BD: That's your HAND again, GBH. Two strikes. One more and you'll have to get out.

GBH: Gulp.

BD: I think you're supposed to "gulp" GBH, not actually say gulp.

GBH: Pwetty colors! Wheeee!

BD: Next question, sports! Pioneered by Bill James, "Sabermetrics" is the objective statistical study of what sport? A. Baseball. B. Basketball. C. Fencing. D. Soccer.

[GBH looks out the window. He sees a tall, bald man with a goatee, a hairy back and sporting tons of piercings.]

GBH: A! Uh...

[Ben's cell phone rings.]

BD: A is correct!

GBH: But...duhh...A! A!

[Ben answers his cell phone.]

Voice: TRAIN!

GBH: A-TWAIN! Hur hur hur!

BD: This is the oddest edition of Cash Taxi I've ever been a part of. But you're now up to $75, GBH!

GBH: Duhhh...need two *waves his hand in front of his face* hands.

BD: Let's keep the good times going. Next question, GBH. Ready?

GBH: Yur.

BD: Geography: Located on opposite coasts, what is the name of both Maine and Oregon's most populous city? A. Seattle. B. Portland. C. Newport. D. Freeport.

[GBH looks out the window. They drive past a giant billboard for "Bee Movie." They drive past a group of cheerleaders shouting.]

Cheerleader: Give me a B!

Cheerleaders: B!

BD: Five seconds!

GBH: Duh...

[They drive by a courthouse as GBH waves his hand in front of his face again.]

GBH: Duhh...courthand! Heee!

BD: Did you say Portland?

GBH: Whuuu?

BD: Portland is correct!

GBH: Yaaay!

BD: One hundred dollars. And now, here come the big money questions! For one hun....for two dollars times fifty...Literature: In addition to creating Gulliver, what author penned a satirical essay modestly proposing that the poor eat their babies. A. J.R.R. Tolkien.

GBH: Buh gawd! Hur hur!

BD: B. Jonathan Swift. C. Walt Whitman. Or D. Edgar Allen Poe.

GBH: Qwo duh Pigeon, nevuhmore!

[Cell phone rings.]

BD: Hello?

BigBOSS: Cut to the ring.

[Cut to the ring.]

Styles: Trey's got Mano!


Styles: Coming down through the table! Oh my GOD! Cover! One! Two and--

[Cell phone rings.]

Styles: Hello?

BD: Cut to the taxi.

[Cut to the taxi.]

GBH: Huuuh?

Guy On Street: Jonathan Swift. The answer is B! How many times do I have to tell you.

GBH: Duh? Whaa? Who you?

[The Paperboy runs up to the taxi and shoves aside Guy On Street.]

Paperboy: I want my two dollars!

GBH: Dwive!

BD: Not until you answer.

[Cell phone rings.]

BD: Hello?

NH: Here are your winners...*static*

BD: Hello? Hello? Damn cell phones. Come on, GBH. Make it swift! I mean...hurry up!

GBH: Insane hands?

BD: Sorry, no, insane hands is not the answer. You're going to have to get out.

[GBH looks nervously at Paperboy and Donk E. Kong. Suddenly, Toadder jumps on the hood and starts banging on the windshield with an Atari joystick.]

BD: What the hell is that?

[Dover turns on the wipers and sprays Toadder with wiper fluid.]

BD: Thanks for playing, GBH! And everyone tune in next time for more Cash Taxi!

[Back to the ballroom.]

Styles: For anyone who cares, your winners, Trey Vincent, Steve Studnuts and XXXtreme Machine. Do we have a replay of that finish?

SW: Do you even have to ask by this point?

Styles: Well, I guess GBH is on the run again. But now it's time for the matches to continue tonight. Let's send it up to Heidi.

NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is for the T&A XX Division Title.

["Not a Pretty Girl" by Ani DiFranco hits. Nikki Mantle steps out carrying an aluminum baseball bat with a glove hanging on the end. Anne O'Rexic can't even be seen, since she's walking behind Nikki...possibly.]

NH: Introducing first, the challenger. She hails from the back alleys of the softball diamond, and I have no clue what she weighs, but I'm guessing, a LOT. Accompanied to the ring by Anne O'Rexic, this is Nikki Mantle!

SW: Meow.

Styles: Heidi a little catty in that intro indeed. Nikki earned this opportunity by winning the triple threat Ultimate D match last month.

SW: Oh baby. Remember when Kay Fabe lost her panties? That was the highlight of that match. So Nikki won, huh?

Styles: What's the matter, couldn't get past that point of the match?

SW: Let's just say I brought a whole new meaning to the word "rebuffering stream."

Styles: Ewww. Looks like Anne wants to say something.

SW: When did Death get out here?

Styles: That's Anne!

SW: Oh, right.

AO: Hey, Sin City.


AO: I know, I know, I'm just so fat. Don't hate me for being pregnant and fat!


AO: No offense, Nikki.


Styles: Nikki didn't appreciate that.

AO: Well, as you all know, the awesome Sir Zeno is my baby daddy to be. of tonight, I want to be known by my REAL name.

SW: Uh oh. She's shooting!

AO: That's right. From now can call my real name...which is...the name I wasn't given at birth...but should have...since I was going to end up his me...Anne Zeno!

Crowd: BOOOOO!

SW: Never mind. She's shooting blanks. And I swear that had some sort of unintended incest overtones there.

AO: Thank you. I know you'll love me once I lose all this weight. I'm sooo sorry guys!

SW: Fat? She's so skinny she can't take a shower because if she tried she'd slip down the drain!

Styles: I thought that was Nikki I was smelling.

["Blue (Da Ba Dee)" by Eiffel 65 plays.]

Styles: There's a fitting song for our champ.

NH: And her opponent. The reigning and defending T&A XX Division Champion, from Dimension Z, Queen Mylisiv!

[Mylisiv emerges to a good pop from the Dimension Z faithful in Sin City. She holds the title in the air and then heads down the aisle.]

SW: Think she's ever been in any blue movies, Styles?

Styles: You're the expert in that arena, why are you asking me? What I do know is this should be a hard-hitting affair, Scotty.

SW: Call me crazy, but I'd rather see two untalented divas rolling around on the mat and clawing at each other rather than a Smurf reject and an overweight lesbian softball player have a real match.

Styles: You're standards are so low. Mantle and Mylisiv lock up. Oh, and there's a bitch slap by Queen Mylisiv. Some attitude from the champ early on here. But here comes Nikki right back, and she's unloading with some lethal kicks to the champ.

Anne Zeno: Hi guys.

SW: Anne? Why are you joining us?


SW: Jeez. Are you alright.

Styles: Those headphones are a little heavy. Scotty, hold them up for her.

SW: Do you have ANY muscles in your neck? Did you see that? Her head just bounced off the desk. *Snort*

Styles: Thanks, Flunky.

AZ: I'm fine. *Ahem*

Styles: Underhanded windup and oh WOMAN, what a punch to the jaw by Mantle.

AZ: Scotty, do you still find me sexy?

SW: I find you as sexy as I've ever found you.

AZ: Oh, you're so sweet. Yeah, smack that bitch up, Nikki!

Styles: Mantle's got Mylisiv. Oh, and she sends Mylisiv out of the ring.

AZ: Home run.

Styles: And now Mantle is taking a lap around the ring.

[Nikki grabs her crotch and spits out some sort of brown juice.]

SW: Wow.

AZ: That's so gross. Oh...uh-oh! *HUUUUUUUUUAHHHH*

SW: Oh man! She just puked all over the Flunky.

The Flunky: Is that your tooth, Anne?

AZ: *Wheeze* Yeah...thanks...*wheeze*

SW: Why can't we have a Kay Fabe vs. Misty Waters match. Please?

Styles: Here comes Nikki. Baseball slide misses. Mylisiv's got her. Oh man, she just dropped Nikki out here on the floor. Look out. We've got company.

SW: Slam on the puke puddle.

AZ: I think that would be a slam IN the puke puddle.

SW: Anne, I didn't ask for your grammar advice. If I ever need any kind of advice on sticking a finger down my throat, you'll be the first one I call.

Styles: Nikki's back up. Hey, that's my script. Ooooooh. Paper cut to Mylisiv's face.

AZ: Powerbomb her through the table!

Styles: Oh no!


Styles: OH MY GOD! Mylisiv was indeed just powerbombed through the EZ Break Announce Desk.

SW: A table bump in the women's match?

AZ: I told her to do that.

SW: Yeah, you're a genius. I bet your baby will be like Stephen Hawking.

AZ: A genius?

SW: I meant confined to a wheelchair. That baby is not going to be healthy.

AZ: *Sniff*

Styles: What are you doing, Scotty! You made her cry. Mantle dragging Mylisiv back to the ring. Cover! One! Two! No! Mylisiv not giving up the title she's held since Living In Sin.

AZ: I was totally robbed. But I'll have the title back tonight.

Styles: You mean Nikki will.

AZ: If it weren't for me, Nikki wouldn't even have a job in BOB. If she wins that title, she better know her place and give that title to me. I'd be the first ever pregnant champion in the history of our sport.

SW: A BOB champion on maternity leave. Wouldn't shock me. We've seen just about everything else here.

AZ: How many calories are there in air?

Styles: For the love of...Mylisiv trying to fight back here. Mylisiv unloading with several variations of kicks. Enzugeri by Mylisiv misses, oh, but that one did not. Mantle's got the champ up. Powerslam! What impact. One. Two and, NO!

SW: What are you gonna name your baby, Anne?

AZ: I dunno. I was thinking of Sir Jr.

SW: No.

AZ: Maybe Plato.

SW: Plato Zeno? Lame. What about Beano Zeno?

AZ: Beano?

SW: Oooh...Dino wait...Gino Zeno! Perfect!

AZ: Ehh...

SW: Bear with me on this one...Zeno Evil!

AZ: What am I, Japanese?

SW: Huh?

AZ: Don't they turn their last names into first names?

SW: No, I think that's Canadians.

Styles: Canadians? What are you two talking about? Can we focus, please?

SW: Have we ever before? She's in a Red Sox crab.

AZ: You're clever. The Red Sox play in Boston. Boston just won the World Series. They play baseball. Nikki plays softball.

SW: Finally, somebody who appreciates my genius.


SW: Figures she vomits up her own teeth.

Styles: Oh man. Sorry Flunky. Maybe BigBOSS will pay the cleaning bill.

Flunky: Think Unit 5 is still hanging around here?

Styles: It might be. Look at this. Mylisiv fighting to get to the ropes, and she makes it.

SW: You OK, Anne?

AZ: *Wheeze*

Styles: Mylisiv fighting back. Leg lariat. And there's a clothesline. Mantle's got her. The Pitch coming! Mylisiv with a back body drop. Superkick.


Styles: Mylisiv going for the Royal Ouchie, but no. Mantle just dropped her throat first on the top rope.

AZ: Finish her!

Styles: Mantle's got Mylisiv locked in now. There it is! The Pitch! And Mylisiv is powerbombed into the corner! Oh MAN! COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE!


Styles: You won?

NH: The winner of the match, and NEW T&A XX Division Champion...

AZ: Anne Zeno!

NH: No...Nikki--

AZ: I said Anne Zeno, bitch!

[Zeno slaps at her weakly.]

NH: That's a great Monty Burns impression. Truly.

Styles: Anne just grabbed the title belt. And that also apparently is too heavy for Anne, who is struggling with all her might to drag it around ringside. And Mantle doesn't like this one bit.

[Kay Fabe runs into the ring.]

Styles: Chop!

Crowd: Ehhhhh!

Styles: Chop!

Crowd: Ehhhhh!

Styles: Chop!

Crowd: Ehhhhh!

Styles: Is she trying to lock in a Wiccan crossface?

SW: Is next month's event called When Lesbians Collide?

Styles: No. You know it's--

Deep Voice: MEGABRAWL!

SW: I do?

Styles: It's the MEGAest brawl of them all! And apparently, we've got a special on Nick At Nite later this month?

SW: Yeah...what is up with that? I hope Axl isn't booking the show. It'll be Axl vs. 999 jobbers in an ego gauntlet match.

Styles: BOB is literally, on the road to Nowhere.

SW: What else is new?

Styles: Nikki kicks away Kay, as she seems more concerned with getting her title that she just won. And now Kay's going after Mylisiv. Wiccan crossface! Apparently she just wants to hurt somebody.

SW: Hide the electrical cords.

[Kay Fabe pulls viciously back on Mylisiv's neck as the crowd stares on silently. Mylisiv appears to be unconscious. Eventually, Kay drops the hold.]

[Backstage, Seth Harker was walking down a hallway when suddenly he came face to face with douja.]

douja: whassup you cracka ass cracka?

[Harker gets up into fighting position.]

douja: yo relax dogg. im jus here cuz i heard you holdin'.

[Seth cocks his head to the side.]

Seth: Holding?

douja: ya got some weed?

SH: Forget it douja. I ain't going down for no one no more.

[The "Bonanza" theme song suddenly starts, and Seth turns around and walks off in slow motion as a tumbleweed rolls by.]

douja: da fuck?

[Back to the ballroom. "Soemwhere I Belong" by Linkin Park is playing. The mysterious Soem Guy In A Mask steps out wearing all black and a "Come Get Soem" T-shirt. He apparently is looking to slap hands, but nobody offers any. Poor guy.]

NH: The following is a Fourplay Match. Introducing first, he hails from Soemwhere and weighs soemthing, this is Soem Guy In A Mask.

Styles: This is a return of sorts for Soem Guy...I think. There was a Soem Guy In A Mask who appeared in BOB previously in 2000. Does that look like the same guy to you?

SW: All masked jobbers look the same to me, Styles. Though he does have a nice ass.

Styles: Excuse me?

SW: Did I say that out loud?

Styles: You most certainly did.

SW: Shit, am I turning gay? I know I've heard of heel turns, but GAY turns? Oh man...*Slap slap slap* Get it together Scotty. That's a dude!

Styles: Yeah, keep going. Scotty is slapping himself silly.


["Regeneration X" by Mark Rushton (Random Screaming BOB Catchphrase Remix hits. There is an immediate shrill cheering from the ladies in the crowd, but they are booed down by the men. Gee, where have I seen that before?]

NH: Introducing next, from Kent, Ohio, weighing 180 pounds, this is Jim "Totally Packaged."

SW: Speaking of total packages, did you hear that Lex Luger recently ripped off Jeff Jarrett's finishing move?

Styles: No.

SW: Yeah. He I heard he used the stroke on himself! BWAHAHAHA!

Styles: Oh my GOD, Scotty! That man was in the hospital. Besides, it was an infection, anyway, not a stroke.

SW: Awww. Really? And I thought that joke was gold.

Styles: It was tasteless, as usual. Though I've come to expect it from you.

SW: Well, at least Jim will never have to worry about getting a stroke from too much steroid use. The only thing he'll have to worry about is his liver from all that drinking he does.

["Enter Kevin" by Vietellica plays next. Kevin stumbles out carrying something in his hand.]

Styles: Oh no.

NH: Introducing next, from Stinking Bay, Arkansas, weighing 82 pounds, this is Kevin the Pyromaniac.

SW: What is it, Styles?

Styles: I may be wrong, but I think Kevin is carrying around that mouse that pinned him earlier.

SW: What's the matter? You afraid he's gonna shove it up his ass, fart it out, light his fart and set the projectile mouse on fire?

Styles: I wasn't, but NOW I am.

SW: What were you worried about then?

Styles: I don't remember anymore.

["Under the Knife" by AC/DC plays. Dr. Thrilla gets the biggest pop of the bunch. Thrilla walks down the aisle and slides into the ring with his trusty rusty scalpel.]

NH: And finally, from Tijuana, Mexico, weighing 193 pounds, this is Dr. Thrilla.

SW: Hmm...maybe the mouse will get its intestines replaced with a rubber hose. That's Thrilla's specialty.

Styles: You've got to be worried if you're Dr. Thrilla.

SW: Of lawsuits?

Styles: Well, those too. I was referring to the iAd, who have assaulted Sir Zeno and Mr. Paradox already. And in a total coincidence, Queen Mylisiv was assaulted, almost rabidly, by Kay Fabe after losing her title. It looks like Thrilla and Kevin are going to start this one out.

SW: Is that a plastic bag?

Styles: Thrilla drops Kevin with a hard kick there. That may be it. One! Two! No? Kevin kicked out?

SW: He's putting the plastic bag over Dr. Thrilla's face. That mouse is in there, and I don't like that mouse's odds against Thrilla's bear trap teeth! He may pull an Ozzy Osbourne.

Styles: Thrilla is trapped in plastic bag with that mouse. And Thrilla isn't moving too much. Kevin heads up top. Oh no!


Styles: His elbow pad is on fire. Flaming elbow drop!

[There is a collective gasp from the crowd as Kevin is sprayed with a fire extinguisher by the Flunky. Kevin lays around selling the extinguisher blast for a few seconds.]

No mouse was hurt during the filming of this was killed instantly....thank you....

SW: Thrilla's cutting his way free using his scalpel. And Thrilla can breathe again and is gasping for air.

Styles: This is one of the strangest starts to a match I've seen in a while.

SW: Thrilla can't wrestle his way out of a plastic bag, huh?

Styles: Apparently not. Jim just tagged himself in and will try and combat Kevin the Pyromaniac's flammable offense. Kevin charges at Jim.

SW: Ooooooh, now that's a crotch chop.

Crowd: Wooooo!

Styles: Knife-edge chop to Kevin's lower-abdominal area. Damn. Jim pulls up Kevin. Gorilla press slam. It's not often Jim pulls out that one. Jim off the ropes. Flying forearm of doom takes Kevin down again. And Kevin just tagged in Soem Guy.

SW: This should be....soemthing.

Styles: Both men circling each other. Are you staring at his ass, Scotty?

SW: ...No. Fuck you.

Styles: Soem Guy charges, but right into a heel kick from Jim. Soem Guy bails out to the floor. Incoming! Jim with a cross body to the floor. Jim sending Soem Guy back into the ring for soem more punishment.

SW: So if this is a Fourplay match, does that mean only chicks watching are enjoying this right now? Because I sure as hell am not.

Styles: Jim is dominating at the moment. Soem Guy tags out to Kevin. Jim hooks him. Nice powerbomb. Oh, now Jim's going for an Ohio cloverleaf! He's got Kevin locked in.

SW: Kevin just pulled out the lighter fluid. Oh man, he's spraying his ass with lighter fluid.



Styles: And that's one way to break a submission hold. With a flaming fart.

[Flunky sprays Kevin and Jim with the fire extinguisher.]

SW: I smell burnt ass hair. Sick!

Styles: Kevin sacrificing his own body there. Thrilla clanging at Jim. Apparently Thrilla wants a piece of Kevin for that plastic bag incident earlier in the match. And here he comes. Oh MAN. Thrilla unloading on Kevin here.

SW: Oh man. He's biting Kevin's hand with those metal chompers now.

Styles: This one sure isn't for wrestling purists. This one is ugly and disturbing.

SW: Yeah, Ted's gonna bash the hell out of this match.

Styles: Don't worry, he's not doing recaps anymore.

SW: Oh, really? I really should visit the BOB site more often.

Styles: There's a tag for Soem Guy. Springboard hoodanconrana! That was soem hoodanconrana, Scotty. Spin kick. Spin jab. Wow, what technique. I wonder if Soem Guy knows soem karate or martial arts.

SW: I wonder if Kevin has been taking lessons on being a punching bag, because if so, he's a pro at it. Soem Guy is putting the hurt on that green-haired teenage goof.

Styles: Tag back in to Thrilla.

SW: I'm sooo bored, Styles. Why can't it be tomorrow and I'm watching the Patriots and Colts in the Game Of The Century™ and drinking beer?

Styles: Life is so tough, Scotty, I know. Kevin's tags Jim. Soem Guy charges, but right into a Krew Kutter! Here comes Thrilla. Krew Kutter for Thrilla. Cover on Soem Guy! One! Two and no! Soem Guy soemhow kicked out. Jim might have gotten the pin if not for Dr. Thrilla getting involved there.

SW: Kevin's boots were made for burning.

Styles: Flaming dropkick takes down Jim!

[Flunky sprays Kevin again with the extinguisher, knocking him over.]

Styles: Everybody is down and out. Thrilla's up first. Soem Guy charges, Thrilla ducks. Sunset flip! One! Two! Kevin with a crossbody of sorts! One! Two! Soem Guy kicks out. Jim's back up. He's got Kevin! Fisherman Krewplex! One! Two! Soem Guy with a springboard splash! Cover! One! Two! Thrilla breaks it up! Wow, the pace picked up in this one.

SW: Well, anything looks like an improvement when you're starting at zero miles an hour.

Styles: Thrilla grabs Kevin. Powerbomb coming up. Hold on... Oh my GOD!


Styles: How do you describe that one, Scotty?

SW: Well...Thrilla was trying for a powerbomb on Kevin, then Jim and Soem Guy came up from behind him and hit a double back suplex sort of thing, which simultaneously drove Kevin face first into the mat!

Styles: I've never seen anything like that before.

SW: That's because any sane people would never try crazy bumps like that!

Styles: It's safe to say Kevin won't be much of a factor in this one for the rest of the way. Oh man! Soem Guy just connected with one hell of a superkick to Jim.

[Jim collapses throat first on the middle rope.]

Styles: Soem Guy looking to hit the 555?

SW: 555? Oh, I get it, instead of the 619. How clever, Styles.

Styles: 555 connects. Soem Guy's on the apron. Here comes the Soem Kind Of Finisher! HOODANCANRANA ROLLUP! ONE! TWO! THREE? HEGOTHIM!

SW: What? Jim jobbed to a masked jobber? Who did HE piss off?

NH: Here is your winner, Soem Guy In A Mask!

Crowd: WTF! WTF! WTF! WTF!

Styles: This is unbelievable. Let me go try and grab an interview with that masked man.

SW: Uh...OK.

[Styles heads to the ring.]

Styles: Excuse me, Soem Guy?

[Soem Guy turns around. His eyes go wide, and Soem Guy bolts out of the ring and runs at top speed up the aisle and out of the ballroom.]

SW: The hell?

Styles: Um...

SW: Way to go, Styles. I guess Soem Guy's a little hot. SHY! I meant...fuck me...

["Not All Who Wander are Lost" by DevilDriver hits again.]

SW: Well, Styles just did his impression of Soem Guy and is out of there. Here come Trey and Steve again. Oh man, it's whacking day in BOB. And Thrilla is the snake.

Styles: The iAd is just decimating Dimension Z.

SW: Yep. Dimension iAd is in control here tonight.

[Trey grabs a microphone.]

TV: And now, the iAd troupe proudly presents: Summersham 1997! Starring Dr. Thrilla as "Stone Cold" Steve Austin.

Styles: Oh no!

TV: And Steve Studnuts as Owen Hart! You look pretty good for a dead guy, Studs.

Styles: What dicks!

SW: Yeah. They're making fun of the memory of one of the greatest wrestlers of all time...and Owen Hart!

TV: Also starring Trey Vincent as Vince...Styles as good ol' J.R. And, of course, Scotty Whatbody as The King.

SW: What? Oh, come on! I'm nothing like him!

[Trey Vincent runs to the announce area.]

TV: And...action! How 'bout that? (Beat) I SAID, how 'bout that? (Beat) Read it, Styles or...why I oughta...

Styles: *Sigh* A gutwrench? Tombstone! Tombstone piledriver! Shades of the Undietaker! Thrilla dropped right on his head. And how much more punishment can Thrilla stand.

SW: Don't waste time, Studs, just pin him!

[Studnuts wanders around the ring for a couple seconds.]

SS: Now he's gonna kiss my ass!

[Studnuts bends over Thrilla, ass aimed directly as Thrilla's face. Studnuts holds the microphone by his ass.]


Styles: He just farted on Thrilla? Oh come on!

[Vincent claps.]

TV: And cut! Beautifully done. Thank you, Sin City!

Crowd: BOOOOO!


TV: Heh, Studs is still in character.

Styles: This isn't about a feud anymore! The iAd is trying to end the career of Thrilla here!

SW: Yeah, but this could be a HUGE money feud if it doesn't just end with Trey firing them all.

Styles: I'm pretty sure that's where it's going.

TV: Yeah, pretty much.

[Cut to a doorway. A sign is written on it: "Creative Genuses At Work — Go Away!" Nikki Mantle bangs on the door. The door cracks open.]

Dustbuster Boy: Can't you read?

Nikki Mantle: Can't you spell?

[Dustbuster Boy opens the door wider and looks at the sign.]

DB: Skeeter!

[Nikki shoves her way into the room and looks around until she sees his dustbuster on the bed.]

DB: Hey, what's the deal, Nikki? I though you were into chicks. Hey, get away from Oprah II! Stop her guys!

Mr. Leary: Shut up! We're...

Skeeter: YEAH! Suck on that whore! Touchdown!

Mr. Leary: FUCK! Dustbuster Boy, you fucking shiteating fuck!

[He throws his video game controller at Dustbuster Boy. Nikki leaves as Dustbuster Boy and Leary prepare to throw down.]

[Inside BigBOSS's suite, BigBOSS was laying in bed with a goofy grin on his face.]

BigB: Honey, how am I driving?

Mrs. Behave: Just great, Stuart. Keep it up. *Rolls eyes*

Michelle: What's up with him?

[There's a knock on the door. Mrs. Behave opens it.]

MB: What the--

[Trey Vincent shoves his way in.]

TV: Where is he? Did you see that, BigBOSS?

Pigeon: He's in no shape to deal with you, Vincent. Get out of here.

TV: What are you gonna do about it, Pigeon?

[Vincent grabs Pigeon by the throat and smashes him into the wall.]

BigB: Trey? 'Sup?

Michelle: Stop it you asshole!

TV: What's the matter, baby? Your boy doesn't like it rough? BigBOSS! I want my old job back!

[Trey lets go of Pigeon, who slides down the wall and sits on the floor casually.]

BigB: No way! Not a chance in hell! You didn't make me a dime while you were in charge. I will never give you any power in my company again!

[Knock on the door.]

Voice Outside Door: IRS! Open up!


Michelle: BigDADDY?

[BigBOSS and Mrs. Behave have vanished. Trey's cell phone rings.]

TV: Hello?

BigB: Alright, Trey. You are the interim Vice President In Charge of Everything again. But if you can't get BOB a television deal, you're out!

TV: Deal. My initials aren't TV for nothing. How did you get out of here.

Voice Outside Door: Open up! Oh! NOOOO!

BigB: My secret.

TV: First things first, the following people are fired: Sir Zeno. Mr. Paradox. Dr. Thrilla. Queen Mylisiv. That is all for now. There's far too many nobodies walking around in BOB. Don't you worry, BigBOSS. I'm going to get BOB back on the right track.


[Trey hangs up.]

Michelle: No! No! No!

TV: Oh yeah. thought you made my life hell? Wait until you see what I'm gonna do to you and your pet.

[Trey goes to the door. In the hallway, an IRS agent is laying flat on the floor. ]

TV: The hell?

[Trey comes face to face with a giant beast.]

Deus X. Masheena: My work here is done.


[Back in the ballroom, "Smooth Operator" by Sade is playing. But, Nurse Heidi is not there to ring announce, and there is no replacement due to what could be politely called disorganization.]

SW: Oh, this one's gonna be good. But it's almost not a fair fight.

Styles: Really?

SW: Yeah, Nurse Heidi's gonna kill Axl.

Styles: The Sinister Surgeon, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants getting a mixture of cheers and boos from the Sin City crowd. Plants is the Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer alive today.

SW: No doubt. That's why these sinners have to show him some respect. Unlike his partner...

Styles: Is Nick at Night ready for Axl Van Goth?

SW: I know it's ready for one naughty nurse.

["I Am Evil" by Darc-Soulz hits. Boos. Lots of boos. The boos get even louder when they realize he has a microphone.]

Axl: I told you all I was your savior, but you didn't believe me. You're just like the Jews.

SW: BWAHAHAHA! He did NOT just say that!

The views of Axl do not necessarily reflect the views of anybody in Brawlers On a Budget, or its sponsors....thank you.....

Axl: Sil, I told you I had a plan for our match. And it's a blackly evil plan. While I was discussing bringing BOB back to cable television, there was a deal made. In exchange for me making it happen, BigBOSS agreed to a little addition to our match tonight. So, please welcome our special guest timekeeper, Brother Joey!

[Brother Joey walks out wearing a white wig, a white beard, a long robe and carrying a large face clock. He is greeted with boos as he heads to ringside.]

SW: What's this, Nostradanus?

Axl: Please welcome our special guest enforcer, Brother Jimmy!

[Brother Jimmy walks out in a vintage Four Horsemen T-shirt, a bald cap, a beard, and black shorts with the letters AA on his crotch. He is booed as he holds up four fingers in the air and walks down the aisle.]

SW: Not my dog spot, not my liver spot, my spot.

Styles: That wasn't funny then, and it's not funny now, Scotty.

SW: You sure? You don't find anything funny.

Styles: I wouldn't say that. It's pretty funny when you get your ass kicked.

Axl: And please welcome, our special guest ring announcer...Brother Johnny!

[Nobody comes out for several seconds.]


[Still nothing for several seconds. Axl walks to the back. There is some loud indecipherable shouting, before Axl pulls out Brother Johnny, who is dressed up like a nurse. A mini-skirt, big fake hooters and even the little white nurse cap. The crowd turns up the boos even more.]

Styles: Is it just me, or did you always figure Axl would be the first one we'd say dressed in women's clothing?

SW: It's not just you. This is so lame, Styles.

Styles: He could have at least shaved his legs.

SW: Um...what?

Axl: Now do your thing, Nurse Johnny.

Styles: Plants is just looking at this, dumbfounded.

Nurse Johnny: The following contest is a pick your opponent's partner tag team match.

[He adjusts his fake boobs. There is a wolf-whistle from the crowd.]

NJ: Introducing first, a man who should have retired years ago. He hails from the retirement home, this is Dr. Untal N. Ted!


Axl: You can't do that to Nurse Johnny! God, life sucks!

SW: SMP is chasing after Axl!

["The Bad Touch" by Bloodhound Gang hits. Pretty good pop as Heidi steps out in some scrubs. Even bigger pop as Heidi rips off her top and pulls down her pants to reveal a tight white top with a couple of red crosses where her nipples are, and white panties.]

SW: HUMINA HUMINA HUMINA! Oh BAY!! Heid's not loked tat gud in WAO!!

Styles: Scotty, please! Get a hold of yourself.

SW: I do have a hold of myself, Styles! Oh BAY!Y

Styles: My apologies for the unintelligible Scotty Whatbody, who apparently hasn't seen a sexy women in her underwear in a long, long time. She's looking so good that Scotty's channeling XXXtreme Machine.

SW: She's seriously going to wrestle in THAT? This is what EVERY match should have!

Styles: For this match, Nurse Heidi can wrestle either SMP or Axl.

SW: Ohhhh, she has on boots and wrestling gear?

Styles: You just got down below her thighs, huh?

SW: Had to work my way down. Won't make that mistake anymore. She could have had on high-heels. Knee pads, sure, that's cool.

Styles: Oh, Scotty!

SW: What? They come in handy!

["I Am The Champion" by Death & The Deathtones plays next. The crowd is still so focused on Heidi they barely even notice Death walk down the aisle and get in the ring.]

Axl: And your special guest color commentator for the match....Axl.

Death: Hello? Do I even exist? Who do I have to kill around here to get some attention? Only the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS here.

Styles: Oh great. Axl's joining us on commentary, Scotty.

SW: Good. Put him in the puke puddle.

Styles: Hello, Axl. You're not going to help out your tag team partner?

Axl: Bow down before BOB's savior.

SW: No thanks. I don't eat sausage.

Axl: What did you ask me, Styles? Help Sil? I have far more important things to do tonight, Styles. To start with, I have a brand new poem I'd like to debut for the world.

SW: A poem? I was hoping for a suicide note.

Axl: I call this one..."Death Deserved."
What have you wrought?
A miasma of shock as affections creep.
Once we shared wonder,
virginal and glad-hearted,
but your thirst died.
A sickening morass of darkness -
tears follow blood, follow rain,
love burnt to ashes.
In a torrent of vengeance,
I still love you.

SW: That the best you got?

Axl: Can you do better?

SW: Probably. Let's see...roses are red, violens are blue, that poem sucked...fuck you?

Axl: You will rot in the depths of depthitude for such insolence!

SW: What?

Styles: This one is ready to begin.

Axl: Ring the bell, Brother Joey!


[Death hits Joey with the Touch of Death. Joey tips over and slams into the floor. That gets a good pop from the crowd.]

Death: Yeah, how about that?

SW: I hope he doesn't expose himself.

Styles: Death, or Axl?

SW: Ewww.

Axl: I'll expose myself as the greatest only world champion that matters.

SW: What was that?

Axl: What?

SW: Right there is your whole...never mind, you've got far BIGGER problems, most notably the fact that you're not mesmerized by Heidi's bouncing fun bags.

Styles: Scotty?

SW: Huh?

Styles: What was your point?

SW: What? Sorry? Huh?

Styles: Forget it. Axl, your special ring announcer's been knocked out. Your timekeeper's been killed. The odds aren't as stacked anymore.

Axl: Have no fear, mortal! I still have my enforcer Brother Jimmy. He'll unleash his spinebuster of doom upon any who try to get out of line and mock the Metal God!

Styles: Uh-huh. Well...I guess SMP is going to start. But who against? Will it be his valet, or will it be against Death, the man he will face at--

Deep Voice: MEGABRAWL!

Styles: Yeah, at--

Deep Voice: MEGABRAWL!

Axl: All I know tonight, M.S., is Sil is gonna (deep voice) MEGAJOB! I have another poem I'd like to debut. This is called "Ode to Darkness."
I am swimming in my own despair
No one understands my thoughts
I saw the eyes of Death...
The blade kisses me deeply
The rush of the razor is the sweetest pain
The clock is made of blood
I am fallen and will never rise
I will conquer my teachers with powers of darkness
Endless industrial music

SW: Even suckier than the last one, Axl.

Styles: We're finally ready to get this one started. And it's going to be Death and SMP to start things off in a preview of--

Deep Voice: MEGABRAWL!

Styles: Death with a headlock.

SW: Will you stop writing poetry?

Axl: Never!

Styles: Plants is in the ropes. Clean break by Death.

SW: I'm just shocked Death's first offensive move wasn't a knee lift. Though I'm sure it's coming, since he only has a few moves. I wish Heidi had a hula-hoop.

Styles: And Scotty's brain just left us again. Lockup again. SMP powering Death into the corner. There's a chop.


Crowd: Woooooo!


Styles: Another chop!

Crowd: Wooooo!

Styles: SMP drives an elbow into Death's skull. Death crawling away. He's extending his hand to Heidi.

NH: No way, Death! I'm not touching your hand!

Death: What? Why? Oh, is it the whole instantly killing you thing?

NH: Yeah!

Death: *Sigh*

NH: Here!

[Heidi hands Death a rubber hand.]

Death: Dude...

NH: Do it. Or I'm not gonna save your bony butt.

[Death takes the hand and extends the rubber hand to Heidi.]

NH: Was that so hard?

Styles: And we've finally got a tag.

SW: I've been waiting for this for years!

Styles: For Plants and Heidi to wrestle?

SW: No, for her to lose her top in a match again! There's no way that top can contain those jugs.

Axl: My anguish spews forth clandestine decay.

Styles: And here we go. Heidi and Styles one-on-one.

SW: Amazingly, I think more people would pay for this match than SMP vs. Death at--

Deep Voice: MEGA-

SW: Yeah, we get it. Enough already.

Deep Voice: ...BRAWL!

Axl: My like poison!

SW: I hope one day you find your Romeo so the two of you can drink some.

Axl: My mascara cannot hide the tears in my eyes.

Styles: Heidi with a headlock! SMP reverses and puts Heidi into a hammerlock. Heidi's bending over, trying to take out...uh...SMP's legs.

SW: Now THAT's gotta be a familiar position for these two. I'm sure Heidi's just used to be bent over a chair right here.


SW: There's some Greco-Roman butt bongo by SMP!

Styles: SMP avoiding her attempts as he is literally, well, spanking her so far. Heidi sneaks out. Heidicanrana on Plants! And listen to the crowd!

Fan: Take off your top!

Styles: Death looking to get back into this match. He extends his rubber hand and Death gets the tag.

Axl: The Gothic booker is at his table,
thinking of funny lines to entertain his four readers.
His computer is empty,
jobbers and stereotypes pass in and out of his mind's eye.
But the author is tired.
He is now 29 years old.
He has written many shows.
A crumpled bottle of water is at his feet.
This will be a quiet death.
His legacy won't last.
The gimmicks he has created
will live in Imagination Land.
And be forgotten
once his credit card is rejected by GoDaddy.

Styles: What the hell are you blabbering on about, Axl?

Axl: Triple cages and deserted deserts,
all scenes for bloodshed.
The Strapping Young Lad blares.
The author with an ancient liver wants to go dream.
These will be his last thoughts.
Is this gothic poem parody even funny?

SW: Uhhh...Alright. That was...different. What do you call that one?

Axl: Die, Trey, Die.

SW: Oh man. Haven't you been watching what they've been doing tonight?

Axl: He's an old-timer. It's time for him to move on.

Styles: There's a knee lift for SMP. Side slam! One! Two and no. The Sinister Surgeon kicks out.

SW: Death just exhausted his whole move set there.

Styles: Elbow drop misses. SMP punching away on Death. Death goes down. SMP with a double stomp to Death's ribcage.

Axl: I have another poem to share with you all. I call this one, Untitled.
The night falls as if slain by the sun, entwined are we.
The salvation for which you sacrifice yourself
flares once, then dies,
swept away by a velvet ebon nothingness.
All hope must sicken and die.

Your soul thrives no more.
How could you hate me?
Our dark thoughts surround us, crying,
save us from ourselves.

Styles: Heidi's back in. Dropkick to Plants! She gets on top.

SW: Another familiar spot for her.

Styles: One! Two! No. Plants with a drop toe hold. And...there's some amateur wrestling from Plants. He's got her from behind.

SW: Amateur? I thought they called that doggy-style?


Styles: And there are some more spanks for Heidi.

SW: I hear Studnuts spanks her harder. That's why she likes him better.

Styles: Who told you that?

SW: Studnuts, of course!

Styles: Heidi tags out once again. If I were Plants, I wouldn't be messing around with Heidi too much. She's starting to get pissed off in there.

SW: See? This is why we stopped mixing the boys and the girls together. The girls just can't take being inferior to the men.

Axl: I have more poetry. Tremble before my goth haiku!
My thrall forgot to
lightproof my room before day.
Now I am ash. Damn.


Styles: *Snort* Goth haiku!

[Five minutes later.]

Styles: I'm sorry fans. I know there's a match going on. But that poorly composed minimalist goth poetry just was hilarious.

SW: Is there more?

Axl: You aren't worthy, normal. I'll kick your ass and not even smear my eyeliner.

SW: Right. Hey!

Styles: SMP just grabbed Axl by the hair, and he's dragging him to the ring! He's got him to his corner. And SMP just tagged Axl into this match for the first time.

SW: Awesome. No more bad goth poetry. I can focus all my attention right where it belongs.

Styles: On the match?

SW: Of course not, on Heidi's tits!

Styles: And SMP is leaving!

SW: Brilliant. Axl's stuck in a two-on-one match now!

Styles: Bony foot to Axl's face takes him down. I think Axl's about to take a ride to the Netherworld. Did Heidi just tag in? Is she crazy? Death has Axl up. What is this? OH MY GOD! Netherworld powerbomb, combined with a neckbreaker from Heidi from the top rope! And what a way for Axl to start off in this match.

SW: It serves him right for us having to listen to that lame poetry. What is he, 16?

Styles: Heidi and Death whip Axl into the ropes. Double flapjack plants Axl face first into the mat. And the crowd is loving this.

Crowd: Show your tits! Show your tits!

[Death pulls aside a bit of his black robe where his chest would be, if he had a chest. But alas, no, only bones.]

SW: Not you!

Styles: Death showing his non-existent breasts to the crowd. Heidi and Death are waiting on Axl to get up. TOTAL ELIMINATION! One! Two! Damnit! Jimmy just broke it up that a woman's shoe?

SW: He must've taken it off that cross-dresser.

Styles: TOUCH OF DEATH on Jimmy! Now what? Death's got Axl up on his shoulders. Heidi's up top. No way! Heidicanrana! And the crowd is loving this! But Death and Heidi STILL aren't done having their way with Axl.

SW: Oh, how I'd love to have my way with Heidi!

Styles: Death's got Axl set up...not ANOTHER Netherworld Powerbomb! Heidi's on the top rope! Dropkick! Netherworld Powerbomb! Heidi's got the cover! One! Two! Three! SHEGOTHIM! Unbelievable!

SW: Yeah! How did her top stay on?

NH: Here are your winners *pant pant* ME and Death!

Styles: And she even gets to announce her own victory. What a night for Nurse Heidi!

SW: He's back!

Styles: NIPPLE CUTTER on Death! Oh man! SMP is back, and he just took out Death from behind! These two are going to main event our show next month. And it's going to be for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! SMP is standing over the champion right now. He's got his girl back. But will he have the title next month at--

Deep Voice: MEGABRAWL!

[Backstage, Nikki Mantle is seen going into a hotel room with the dustbuster. The door stays open just a crack, all that can be heard are the voices and noises from inside.]

Anne Zeno: Nikki! Hi! You finally...what's with the dustbuster?

Nikki: That's MY title.


AZ: You know what...I'm sorry! You're right. This is your title. Here you go.

Nikki: It's too late for that. You took something of I've got to take something of yours...

AZ: Hey! Hey! What are you doing?


AZ: Stop that! Hey! Get out of there!

Nikki: (Bad Cuban accent) Say hello, to my little wetvac!







AZ: My god! My god! You just dustbusted my baby! You monster!

[Nikki opens the door, smiling. Her title belt is over one arm, and the bloody dustbuster in the other hand.]

Styles: Oh. My. God.

SW: Yeah, we're ready for Nickelodeon...right.

NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following is the main event of Massively Cool, and it is for the Swiss Army Belt!

["Rising Sun" by Bexta hits. The lights dim, leaving nothing but black and green lighting. After several seconds, Seth Harker walks out, getting booed loudly by the crowd. Harker stands at the entryway for a few seconds, slowly soaking in the scene before he walks down the aisle.]

SW: What's going on? Where's the slow-motion?

Styles: I think we blew the budget with "Cash Taxi" earlier.

SW: Well, at least it doesn't seem to be bothering Seth. Nothing ever does when he's making his entrance.

Styles: Really? You don't think ANYTHING would bother him?

SW: Hmm...

Fan 1: I totally BONED Kay Fabe! She begged me to stop, but I didn't! And then I dump trucked her!

[No reaction from Seth. He keeps walking down the aisle.]

Fan 2: Hey, buddy, you got the time?

[Fan 2 points at his wrist, which doesn't have a watch.]

Fan 2: And do you know where the bathroom is, too?

[Fan 2 now points at his crotch. Seth pays no attention.]

Fan 2: Thanks, Keandouche!

Mr. Leary: Hey, Seth, can you do a promo for your big match against Massive Man? Something funny, or serious, or funnious. Whatever works. And have you seen any MSTable feds? Hit me up on AIM, bro!

[Totally f'n ignored.]

Mr. Leary: WTF?

Man In Dark Suit and Glasses: You have a problem with authority, Mr. Harker. You believe you are special, that somehow the rules do not apply to you. Obviously, you are mistaken.

[A woman in a trashy leather outfit hops the rail, grabs Seth by the hair and shoves his face into her cleavage and shakes his head back and forth. She then runs up the aisle.]

Ring Rat: Oh yeah, Seth motorboated me! *Coughack*

[Seth readjusts his shades and heads into the ring.]

Styles: There you go. Try as you might, but nothing can distract him.

SW: Yep. Stupid fans, annoying bookers, "Matrix" ripoffs and skanky ring rats all have no impact on Seth. This was actually pretty tame.

Styles: Yep. I think that was the rest of the budget. Anything else happens, and we're looking at a loss.


["Regeneration X" by Mark Rushton (Random Screaming BOB Catchphrase Remix) hits next. Massive Man steps out to cheers from the ladies. Before he realizes what's happening, the ring rat shoves her tongue down his throat as he steps out. Massive Man shoves her off, but it takes some effort.]

SW: Oh man.

MMR1: Where's Jim? He said he'd have my back?

[Cut backstage.]

SW: Look at that. Jim's taking a nap next to that headstone of...Chris Benoit?

Styles: Oh boy. I don't think he's sleeping. I think he was attacked!

SW: By who?

Styles: Isn't it pretty obvious?

SW: No.

Styles: (Beat) Somebody attacked Jim!

SW: Soem...body? Soem Guy In A Mask?

Styles: Possibly! Or maybe it's whoever attacked him last month! Or maybe it''s...

SW: The spirit of Chris Benoit, who finds himself entrapped in the body of Kay Fabe?

Styles: You noticed?

SW: I doubt it was she/he. She/he only seemed to want at Massive Man. Although, just imagine if you COULD combine the wrestling of Benoit and the knockers of Kay Fabe.

Styles: Well, Chris always did like to hold secondary titles. And the Swiss Army Belt is as secondary as you get in BOB. Plus, there was the whole making fun of the tragedy through several promos and tasteless jokes that Re-X did. Well, both men are in the ring, let's send it to Heidi.

NH: This match is set for one fall. Introducing first, the challenger. From Parts Unknown. He weighs in tonight at 217 and 15-16ths. He is the Darksider, and is one-third of the incurable Apathy disorder, Seth Harker!

[He gets mostly jeered, aside from the fans who likes cool heels and the Internet marks who praise his ungodly work rate. One of them holds up a sign: "***3/4 Without Run-Ins." We'll see...]

Styles: Looks like many are expecting a match of the year candidate out of these two.

SW: *Pfffft* Only if every chick on the roster comes out and has an orgy in the middle of this one.

NH: And his opponent, the reigning and defending holder of the Swiss Army Belt. From Kent, Ohio. He weighs in tonight at 190 and 63-64ths. He is the Sensei of Joshitude, and is one-half of Re-Generation-X. Massive Man Rendition First.

Styles: I can't wait to see this one. Generic Ref calling for the bell, and here we go. Lock up in center ring, no, Massive Man with a drop toe hold to start this one out. A bit of trickery early on by Massive Man, and he's got to do things like that to stay a step ahead of the very dangerous challenger.

SW: Yeah, being trippy ain't gonna win the match, Styles.

Styles: Lock up. Harker with a go-behind. And Harker trips up Massive Man. But Harker doesn't let Massive Man back up, locking on a front chancery. Massive Man pushes his way up. Massive Man trying to throw Harker off here, but Harker floats behind. Harker runs to the ropes. Beautiful delayed twisting mid-air kick takes Massive Man down.

SW: *Sigh* Where's the car crash spotfest? These guys should be through about twenty tables and off three ladders or so by now. Damn, we need a bigger budget.

Styles: Lockup again, and Massive Man goes to work on Harker's arm. Harker reverses. Maybe Vincent and Studnuts had something to do with Jim's attack?

SW: They already assaulted him with a cake earlier. It could be.

Styles: Hold on! One! Only one, as Massive Man with a quick rollup to free himself from the arm work. Harker looking to take home his first BOB singles championship tonight.

SW: Hold on. He held a singles title before. Remember? He had the old hardcore title. And he lost the title TO the title.

Styles: Oh, right. Man, how could I forget that?

SW: No wonder why my back's hurting. I have to carry your ass once again to another outstanding commentary track.

Styles: What would I do without you. Oh wait. I know. I'd have a bunch of more entertaining color commentators come in.

SW: They were not better than me! Stop lying!

Styles: Massive Man with a slam, but Harker holds onto his arm and has an arm-scissor locked on. VERY nicely done by Harker. Massive Man trying to find a way out of this painful submission.

SW: I hope he finds it. Maybe he can find a way out of this painful boredom for me while he's at it. Oh wait, there we go.

Styles: Open up your eyes, Scotty.

SW: Anything I imagine has GOT to be better than this portion of the match. I don't need wrestling foreplay. That's all this shit is.

Styles: Harker lets the move go and pulls up Massive Man. Short-arm hoodanconrana? I've NEVER seen that one before! Wow!

SW: Awww! Serious?

Styles: You missed it, Scotty.

SW: That sounds kinda sweet, actually.

Styles: Harker takes Massive Man down with an armdrag. And there's a dropkick right to Massive Man's face. Massive Man looking for a timeout on the floor. But Harker looking for more. He's up top! Cross body from the top to the floor! And that brings the crowd to their feet.

SW: Now we're talking. There's nothing better than two poor guys beating the crap out of each other and destroying their bodies for my amusement.

Styles: Harker trying a suplex on the floor, but Massive Man blocks it. Oh! Harker just dropped ribs first over the Flimsy Guardrail®! Oh my GOD! Massive Man just planted him with a DDT on the floor!

SW: Look out. Harker's gushing blood after that one!

Styles: Harker's busted over his right eye after that brutal DDT on the floor. Massive Man launches himself onto the guardrail and connects with a leg drop on the floor. Massive Man doing a little showboating here, Scotty. That could come back to haunt him later on.

SW: Yeah, and so could Chris Benoit.

Styles: Harker slammed hard. Massive Man heading to the second rope.

MMR1: Yodelayheehoo!

Styles: Yodeling elbow drop connects! One! Two! Harker kicks out. Massive Man stomps on Harker and now dragging him up. Looks like Massive Man wants a superplex here. Harker fighting back. Harker...sunset flip bomb! One! Two! Massive Man rolls free just in time. Harker connected with that kick. And there's a spinning heel kick. Third time isn't the charm, Massive Man caught him.

SW: Massive Man about to play some kick balls?

Styles: Harker's enzugeri attempt just missed. How the HELL did he do that? Reverse enzugeri nearly took off Massive Man's head.

SW: Yeah. That move just dropped the temperature two degrees, it was so cool.

Styles: Was that sarcasm?

SW: I'm not sure. Though Heidi's nipples are quite erect.

Styles: Are you able to make any jokes anymore than don't involve either sex or something completely tasteless about death or tragedy?

SW: It doesn't seem like it, does it? It has been a looong show. Plus, I'm a victim of my own success, I guess. Sex jokes equal L-O-Ls.

Styles: Harker up top! Frog splash misses. Massive Man rolled right out of the way. And now Massive Man is quickly heading up top. But Harker's back up. Oh NO! Splash Mountain powerbomb by Massive Man! One! Two and NO! Somehow Massive Man kicked out.

SW: Man, Harker's heading back up again? He should get busted open more often. He's going crazy in there.

Styles: Senton OH MAN! Massive Man got both knees up! Harker in some serious pain now. Back cracker by Massive Man! One! Two! No! Harker kicked out. Massive Man looking a little frustrated with Generic Ref.

SW: He isn't the first, and he won't be the last. But he's all we can afford.

Styles: Massive Man has Harker up. Double underhook into a backbreaker. Massive Man working on Harker's back now. And Massive Man just grinding his knees into Harker's spine! How brutal! And Massive Man's got him locked now in a camel clutch. And Massive Man punching the open wound over Harker's eye.

SW: Harker hasn't been this bloody since that one time Kay got her period mid-coitus.

Styles: Oh, Scotty! That's disgusting.

SW: You're welcome.

Styles: Harker trying to power his way up. Uh-oh. He's got Massive Man's legs hooked. What the hell? Oh my GOD!


Styles: Both men just went flying through the middle and top rope to the floor! That's one EXTREME way to break up the camel clutch!

SW: Seth must be killing too many brain cells drinking with the iAd! Is he crazy?

Styles: That death dive broke up the hold, but both men are hurting after it. Harker trying to climb back in. Massive Man back up. Neckbreaker connects as they go through the ropes back into the ring! Cover! One! Two! Harker's foot is on the ropes.

SW: There's Harker's apathy showing. Too lazy to even kick out.

Styles: Lazy? This match is taking a toll on both men!

SW: No way, Styles. He's too apathetic to kick out anymore.

Styles: Massive Man's got Harker up. Atomic drop. And Massive Man off the ropes with a running lariat. One! Two! No! Harker kicked out that time, Scotty. Now Massive Man looking to go high-risk. Harker's up!

[Big pop.]

Styles: NO WAY! Top rope HARKERCONRANA! Are you kidding me? Cover! One! Two! NO! Massive Man kicked out! That was close, Scotty.

SW: They went down faster than a senator in a men's restroom stall!

Styles: Both men are exhausted. Harker on his knees. And there's inch eye poke?

SW: Yep. Extremely short, but extremely pokey.

Styles: Variation on his one-inch punch maneuver, I guess. Massive Man with an elbow to Harker's jaw. Harker with a chop.

Crowd: Woooo!

Styles: Massive Man with an uppercut. And another. And another. Harker responds with a kick to Massive Man's right arm. And another. Uh-oh! HELLO! Low blow city there by Massive Man, who is quickly to the middle rope. Leap Of Fate connects! That could be it! One! Two! And.....NO! Harker once again will not quit.

Crowd: Ohhhhh!

Styles: Good night! Massive Man just went to pick up Harker and he got a brutal kick to the skull! One! TWO! NO! Massive Man kicks out. Harker's got Massive Man. Suplex. And now Harker's putting him into position. We may be about to see a Shooting Seth Press! Harker's up top! But Massive Man oooooh!

SW: I think Harker's gonna have an incurable testicle disorder after the way he just landed.

Styles: Is Massive Man trying for a Krew Kutter from there? This could finish Harker right here. Harker's got his feet hooked. Oh my GOD! Harker just reversed into an inverted tornado DDT! But he can't make the cover! The Swiss Army Belt is on the line. But Harker's lost a lot of blood. It may be too much, Scotty.

SW: Yep. We waste more blood in 20 minutes than the Red Cross gets donated in a day.

Styles: Massive Man is up first. He's got Harker. Suplex. He hangs on. A second suplex! He's trying to get up Harker for a third suplex. No! Brainbuster! This one's all over now. Cover! One! Two! Three-NO! Harker kicked out! I don't believe it!

SW: Did you just see that? Generic Ref just got hit in the head with something.

Styles: Is that a HOCKEY PUCK in the ring?

["Whatever" by Our Lady Place hits.]

Styles: Oh for the love of...

SW: Hey, this is a catchy little tune. It seems somewhat familiar...hmm...

[Kay Fabe walks out, still in her Edmonton Oilers jersey and yellow tights. She quickly runs into the ring and gets behind Massive Man as he gets up.]

SW: Kay with a chop!

Crowd: Ehhhh?

Styles: Another chop!

Crowd: Ehhhh?

Styles: German suplex! And there it is! The Wiccan crossface is locked in! And Massive Man is tapping out!

SW: BWAHAHAHA! A girl made Massive Man tap out!

Styles: That's not just any girl. And you know what I mean!

SW: Yeah, yeah, it's Benoit's spirit. He's possessed Kay. I get it.

Styles: Here comes Jim! He's conscious again, but he's moving a little slowly. Oh, man! He's got an electric cord?

Jim: Let's see how YOU like it!

Seth: Don't you dare.

Styles: Oh, man. This is getting intense here.

SW: And confusing. Man. If Seth has sex with Kay when she's possessed by a dude, does that count as gay sex?

Styles: Scotty! Please! Harker and Jim now brawling. And here comes Trey Vincent and Steve Studnuts. Oh, they just blindsided Jim. And now they're stomping away on Massive Man as well.

SW: Pigeon? What's he coming down here for?

Styles: Pigeon's in. He nails Trey! Pigeon Drop on Trey! But Studnuts has Pigeon up. Death Valley (Of The) NO! Pigeon got free. Pigeon Drop on Studnuts! Jim and Harker charge at Pigeon. He ducks. Double Pigeon Drop on Jim and Harker!

SW: What about this interference? What about this illegal interference by Pigeon!

Styles: The iAd and Kay Fabe started it.

[The lights go out.]


Styles: The Undietaker!

SW: Is this match still going on? I guess it must be. Generic Ref is still out from that hockey puck. Who threw that?

Styles: Maybe it was Deus X. Masheena. Can you believe HE was here tonight?

SW: He's ALWAYS been here, Styles.

Styles: And here we go. Undietaker and Pigeon finally going at it. They're going toe to toe here. Hold on. douja just came down. He's attacking Studnuts on the floor. And here comes Insano Mano with a rake? Oh GOD! He just raked Vincent.

SW: He raped Vincent? What?

Styles: And here comes XXXtreme Machine. Oh, he just blindsided Mano. The only member of the XXXtremely bAd spelerz, or whatever he was calling his group earlier, coming to save his iAd buddies. Pete Trable? Why's HE out here?

SW: Yeah, he's been curtain jerking. Hmm...I'm guessing it has something to do with November in Nowhere. Must have some sort of fustercluck main event.

Styles: We've got more company! It's Kevin the Pyromaniac?

SW: OK, this is getting ridiculous now. Axl's out here too? And look! SMP and Death are brawling up at the entryway. Who the FUCK is this guy? Some fan?

Styles: No! That's Booger!

Booger: Prepare to be spooninated!

PT: Look out! He's got a spoon!

Styles: And BOB's newest member is unloading with his spoon! Down goes Trable! Down goes Kevin! Down goes XXXtreme Machine! And down goes Mano. Booger is cleaning house.

SW: I'd almost be impressed if he didn't have that giant snot hanging out of his nose.

Styles: Booger is the last man standing? Are you kidding me? Booger has cleared the ring. There are still fights going on around the ring...where did SMP and Death end up?

SW: I lost track of them.

Styles: Booger just grabbed Harker. He's about to be spooninated!

SH: There is no spoon. There is no spoon.

SW: Oh yes there is! Spoon, meet throat. And Harker is down and out. And look who's just coming to. Generic Ref is waking up.

Generic Ref: Zoot!

Styles: Massive Man crawling to make the cover. Not like this! He gets a hand on Harker. One!......Two!.........THREE! HEGOTHIM!

NH: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner....and STILL Swiss Army Belt champion....Massive Man Rendition First!

SW: This show should have been called Massively Clusterfucked. What a mess.

Styles: Well, fans, that's gonna do it for us here from Sin City for another crazy night here in BOB. Check the Web site to find out more about BOB heading to Nowhere, Oklahoma, and of course, about our last show of 2007 in December...MEGABRAWL. For Scotty Whatbody, I'm Mikey Styles saying, good night everybody, and oh my god.

[Various clips of various BOB wrestlers.]

Deep voice: MEGABRAWL!

Announcer: The MEGAest Brawl of them all! December 15, live On-Demand!

Deep voice: MEGABRAWL!

Announcer: Don't miss it or you'll be MEGA upset! It'll be the MEGAest mistake of your MEGAlife! The send us MEGA money event you've been waiting all year for!

Deep voice: MEGABRAWL!

©2007 BOB Wrestling!


© BOB Wrestling!

Brawlers On a Budget is an online fantasy parody wrestling sports entertainment federation (or e-fed) designed to be somewhat funny.

WARNING: This site contains adult content. Surfer discretion is advised.