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BOB March Mayhem 2003 Logo

It's NOT April. Shut up!

Tom: What are the odds?

Crow: It's ratings, baby. Tom and Crow are ratings.

Tom: Hello you stupid fans and welcome to more pathetic BOB action. It's March Mayhem 2003 and

Crow: Nobody cares. This fed is evil. Just look at BigBOSS. He hired us to kick off another BOB show.

Tom: And here comes the first moron. It's that idiot cousin of some ewrestler, or so he claims.

Crow: Ewrestler? What are you talking about? It's K-Con. He's TWO letters better.

Tom: Oh, you're such a heel mark.

Crow: And what's that atrocious noise?

Tom: It's the Japanese national anthem.

Crow: They have one of those?

BVD: HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Tom: BVD vs. K-Con. This is the pits.

Crow: Of hell. We're in hell.

Tom: BVD is a pathetic genetic experiment of little creativity, combining the crappy Tajiri and the crappier Hacksaw Jim Duggan.

Crow: Not to mention RVD.

Tom: Right. Well, he's not quite as crappy.

Crow: We've seen him do some pathetic things.

Tom: Really? Like what?

Crow: You know. Talk.

Tom: Oh, right. Forgot. Anywho…here we go. It's on. In Boston. And we're just waiting for the REAL main event of this show. Seth Harker takes on Candy Cantaloupes. In what will no doubt be another Harker classic. Fire up your VCRs, kids.

BVD: J-A-P-A-N! J-A-P-A-N!

Tom: Oh, and the elderly fools who wandered in here are having a fit over this anti-American shtick.

Crow: At least he's not the Iraqi hacksaw.

Tom: BVD just doesn't get it. Japanese people are evil.

Crow: Anyone who isn't American is bad. BOOOO! I boo you!

Tom: And now, K-Con has become quite distracted by an elderly woman's shiny walker. Look at him. He's mesmerized.

Crow: I hope that's what he's staring at. Or else, I'm going to puke. Look at all that sag!

Tom: And BVD jumps up and locks K-Con into a headscissors. Oh, he's got this one cinched in!

Crow: That's the move he calls the Seven Day Itch. And for a guy who wears his underwear on his head, I really fear for K-Con right here. Wait a minute, no I don't.

Tom: Oh, YOU! K-Con taps! K-Con taps! It's all over. And everyone weeps in joy.

Crow: And now, that jerk BVD is hot dogging in the middle of the ring.

Tom: What do you expect? He's a hungry boy.

Crow: Whatever. This victory means we've got to call another match with him in it. I would vomit if I had a stomach. So before I get one, let's go somewhere else and keeps this crapfest going.

Tom: Good deal.

[Time to head to Birmingham Alabama now. Prepare yourself. Yes, you know why. Trouble is coming.]

Nurse Heidi: Well, next up is...

[No. Fuck you. You don't get to introduce this next match. Why? Because the greatness that is the Detached Narrator shall take over for this matchup. You, Heidi, can sit there and look pretty, and you, Commentator, can sit there and look retarded.]

The Commentator: That insult whipped me like a government mule!

[Yeah, sure, I NEVER get tired of hearing that one. Anyway, the Masked Announcer should be out at any moment, but since he hates me and I hate him, I've instructed Mark Shill to do this for me, instead. So, let's bring Chuckles out on the Tiny Tron, dressed in a turban, and get him rolling]

Mark Shill: THIS SHALL BE THE GREATEST MATCH IN HISTORY!

[Mainly because I'll be carrying the load that is XXXtreme Machine, of course.]

[Now comes my opponent. For this one, I've instructed a team of monkeys to introduce him.]

Monkeys: OOH OOH AHH AHH!

[Ooh! And the monkeys toss feces at XXXtreme Machine, taking the stupid bastard by surprise. Now XXXtreme Machine gets up, but a team of little school children quickly outwit him and take his lunch money, making XXXtreme Machine cry for mommy. However, mommy won't come because I'm currently fucking her brains out. Well, not literally, since she doesn't have brains in the first place if she gave birth to a waste of perfectly good sperm like XXXtreme Machine.]

[Anyways, I smacked that bitch, because nobody in their right mind would name their child "XXXtreme Machine". Meanwhile, XXXtreme Machine is still bawling like a little bitch, so a penguin slapped him like one. Then, he slapped him some more. Then, for a little change of pace, he slapped him with his other hand. At this point, the penguin gets bored and destroys XXXtreme Machine with a triple whammy half-gainer suplex thingamajig. Then I, myself, get bored and come out to show myself once again.]

Detached Narrator: Bah.

NH: Onetwothreehegothim. God, I'd hate to think about what Detached Narrator would do if he were actually trying.

DN: I'd probably feed his brains to his grandmother and turn his blood into battery acid.

NH: Gross.

DN: You know it. Now, if you'll excuse me... *walks off*

[I'm not falling for that same damn trap as before.]

Tom: Hello iAd fans.

Crow: Hello, Crow fans!

Tom: To save time, Bohemoth and RVD are already in the ring. And RVD has a fishing pole. I wonder what he's planning to do with that.

Crow: He's got a bag of Doritos chips. And a steel chair. He just stuck the hook through the bag. And now he's got the chair connected to the pole.

Tom: And he casts the line. And Bohemoth goes right for it.

Crow: Bohemoth picks up the chips. And RVD charges! Von Duzenator. Or however you spell it. Bohemoth goes down. But he's still wrestling with the bag of chips.. RVD covers him. One. Two. Three. Pathetic. Just pathetic. Please, let's get away from the lack of iAd in this match.

Tom: Yeah.

[OK now. Over to Kevin Nashville.]

MM: Hello fans, and welcome back. We're in Nashville, and this one should be, something.

SW: Do you smell that, Mike?

MM: What? That smelly guy sitting behind us?

Guy: Hey! It's a glandular problem.

SW: Ever heard of a shower? Or deodorant?

Guy: Sure, I've HEARD of them. But they're like God. I've heard of them, but where are they? Huh? HUH?

SW: Anyway, Sculder is on her way out to get squashed.

MM: Um. Scotty, I think, Sculder is the man.

SW: She is?

MM: He is.

SW: So she didn't really lose a sausage during dinner?

MM: No, Scotty. I certainly hope you didn't try to, eat it?

SW: …

MM: And here comes Hardcore JJ! Listen to that pop. It's almost as big as Luke Warm's was in his heyday. Oh, what I'd pay to see Luke Warm and Hardcore JJ do it.

SW: …

MM: Do what, you ask, Scotty? Why, wrestle. Nothing else. I don't know what you're inferring. There's the bell. JJ DROP! ONE, TWO, THREE! It's all over!

SW: …

MM: No Scotty, I'm not premature, like you.

SW: …

MM: OK, let's get out of here. For the mentally scarred Scotty Whatbody, I'm Mike Monotone. See you sooner than we'd like!

[How about we got to Boston and I go get a drink. Waitress!]

Tom: Only one match to go.

Crow: Really? WAHOOOOOOOO!

Tom: No. I didn't mean in the show.

Crow: You didn't.

Tom: One match until Seth Harker. But until then, we have Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" vs. Undietaker the second.

Crow: Through yellow stains and brown flakes, here comes the Undietaker. But no Handis here.

Tom: Big loss for us.

Crow: And here comes Sarah.

Tom: Hmm. Looks like the booker got writer's block for this match.

Crow: Yeah. What are we supposed to talk about here?

Tom: I dunno.

Sarah: Um. More importantly, what am *I* supposed to do?

Undietaker: I think you're jobbing to me.

Sarah: I've got some major wiggins. Only one thing to do.

Tom: What is Sarah doing?

Crow: She's going into the crowd. Whoa! She just ripped the underwear off of some white trash guy out there.

Tom: And she's coming back into the ring with the tighty whities.

Crow: They look more gray than white to me.

Tom: The grungy grays then?

Crow: Sure.

Tom: Sarah tosses them up in the air.

Crow: Jump-undies.

Tom: Undietaker goes up for it. Ohhh. Sarah with a kick right into Undietaker's crotch.

Crow: He got the undies, but it was a trick by Sarah.

Sarah: Aww, nuts.

Tom: Sarah makes the pin.

Crow: Man, no drama in these silly first round matches, is there?

Tom: We can hope not. Short equals good in my book.

Crow: Bye, losers.

Tom: Hey. We just cut from us to us.

Crow: Indeed we did. Good thing we invented that teleportation machine. There's no realistic way we could have just been in Boston and now we're in Tampa.

Tom: Yep. Welcome to Tampon Bay. Where the rivers run red.

Crow: Wow. Let me catch my breath on THAT one, Tom.

Tom: I stole it, anyway. Here comes Candy Cantaloupes to the biggest pop I've heard in a long time.

Crow: But wait for the Seth Harker Pop©.

….

Tom: Hmm. Maybe next round?

Crow: Sure. The acoustics in here…awful.

Tom: That's right.

Crow: Here's Seth Harker.

Tom: Yep, that's him, coming out to some song.

Crow: What an entrance. Beyond description. Mainly since Detached Narrator refused to do any bracketed stuff.

Tom: It's all up to us announcers to paint the scene.

Crow: I think I need to take an art class.

Tom: Right after this match?

Crow: Maybe.

Tom: And look at Seth. Is he actually smiling?

Crow: Unless he's having a stroke or something, it could be.

Tom: I'd be smiling if I was wrestling a bot as well endowed as that.

Crow: You and me both.

Tom: But not together.

Crow: Right.

Tom: What the? Candy with a small package! NO! ONE! TWO! THRENO!

Crow: Wow. If I had breath, I would've been holding it right there.

Tom: Seth superkicks Candy. Wow. He's a heel. YAY!

Crow: Hurrah!

Tom: We're heel marks of course.

Crow: Cool heels rule.

Tom: Well. Harker is up top. The Nightbringer! The twisting flipping spinarama senton springboard somersault moonwalk thingee.

Crow: Nice call. Harker wins. WOOOHOOO!

Tom: YES! The iAd is gonna win this tournament. I just feel it.

Crow: Aren't you just touching your metal groin?

Tom: You know I don't have arms!

Crow: Oh, maybe that's me then. Alright, go away.

[OK, how about we head back to Nashville for some more "wrestling" matches.]

Scotty Whatbody: Well, folks! Up next is going to be a match that'll really suck, which'll hit the usual BOB standards!

Mike Monroe: Not unlike Scotty Whatbody's success in the dating game.

SW: Shut the hell up, Monroe, what do you know?

MM: More than you.

[Xamfir comes down to the ring to that stupid song whose name I'm not even going to bother to remember, because it's by someone named "Zamfir" and anyone named Zamfir deserves to be beaten with a rock. Anyway, he's there.]

SW: Hey, where did Xamfir come from?

Xamfir: Cloudydale.

[Now comes the other guy. Insano Mano. Say a few words for us all Insane Hands!]

Insano Mano: Usted es un meanieheado, Narrador Separado.

[Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get your ass to the ring before I can think of something cruel to do to you.]

SW: And there's the bell!

Cow: MOO!

SW: Or the cow that we swiped from those fWEo guys for a night after BigBOSS beat Sphere in a game of "Eat The Loser's Apples".

MM: Now, in this contest shall be a host of high flying maneuvers that the world will greatly appreciate.

Insano Mano: ¡Coma mi dedo del pie de lujo Stomp de Expresso ultra que vuela con una torcedura!

MM: And... there's one of them! The Ultra Flying Expresso Deluxe Toe Stomp With A Twist by Insano Mano!

Insano Mano: ¡Témame!

Xamfir: I don't know what in the HELL you just said, but my toes don't like you now.

Xamfir's Right Big Toe: Yeah, you big meanie!

Xamfir's Right Middle Left Toe: What he said.

Insano Mano: ¿Desde entonces cuando hizo sus dedos del pie hablan realmente a la gente?

Xamfir: What did you say about my mother? I'll have you know that my mother is a great woman who could kick BOTH of our asses, and I won't put up with any of your offbeat remarks about her. Mainly because she'd beat me up if I didn't stand up to you.

MM: Insano Mano looks a little flustered under that mask, but he's back on the attack! Yes! There's the Super Triple Jump Flying Cartwheel Double Leg Poke In The Eyes!

Xamfir: Ow! My eyelid!

SW: Is it just me, or has Insano Mano's offense been too complicated for anyone's own good?

MM: I know I hate DESCRIBING this stuff...

Insano Mano: ¿Tenía bastantes?

Xamfir: I'm not a bastard!

KICK

SW: That was the wussiest kick this side of Wussville.

Insano Mano: ¿Hey, usted intentaba darme un masaje con sus dedos del pie? ¡Cómo es agradable de usted! ¡Grazias!

Xamfir: Um. Uh. I don't know what you just said, but I think I'm going to go win this match, now!

SW: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

MM: HAHA! Oh, man, that's just too funny! Xamfir? Win a match? On his own?

Xamfir: CHARGE!

SW: And Xamfir runs into the turnbuckles. Now Insano Mano with a... needlessly complicated rollup... thing... one... two... three! And Insano Mano wins!

Insano Mano: ¡VICTORIA!

SW: Hey! You can't talk about WWE people here! We'll get sued! BigBOSS will hurtify you!

MM: Um. We'll be back. I guess.

[Go to Birmingham and watch some other screwjob, won't you?]

NH: Man, are we calling this whole card?

Commentator: It seems like it.

NH: We're flying more than Michael Jackson's babies.

Commentator: That's your story and you're sticking to it.

NH: Thank God Scotty isn't here for THAT one.

Commentator: Why?

NH: Having me and the word sticky in a sentence. He would have hit that one out of the park.

Commentator: You'd think so, wouldn't you. Well, guess what, Heidi. We have Scotty Whatbody live on the phone. Scotty are you there?

Commentator: Nice to hear your voice, Scotty.

NH: I feel set up, here.

[A graphic saying "Surprise, Bitch!" comes on the screen with some hokey music.]

Commentator: Scotty, Heidi has a theory that if you are given a sentence I just used, you could hit it out of the park with a one-liner. Care to play.

NH: Can the viewers hear him?

Commentator: I'm sure they can. It sure would be embarrassing if it was just an uncomfortable silence they heard, or even worse if they saw three dots on the script.

Commentator: Hahahaha. OK Scotty. Here is the challenge. That's your story and you're sticking to it. The your and you're refer to Heidi.

Commentator: Hahahahah!

NH: Hang up on him.

Commentator: And Dude Whose A Dead Ringer For Clinton beats Massive Man Rendition First.

NH: He, what?

Commentator: Cheating with that saxaphone and then the cigar. That is one tricky ex-president lookalike.

NH: Well, I guess we're done here. Ta-ta for now.

[Go Go Goffer Boston.]

MM: Well, we actually get a match here.

SW: Figures it's Little Good against Dyslexic Avenger. Dyslexic Avenger is already in the ring, being a recurring squash-victim and all.

MM: And Little Good is on his way down to the ring. He should be in good shape now that he has that potato chip out of his head.

SW: Oh, that's going to be the excuse for him winning?

MM: It sure is.

SW: Uh oh. Dyslexic Avenger has a mic. Call the grammar police.

DA: Hell bloody!

MM: The Boston crowd liked that one!

SW: Stupid fans in Boston. No one in Massachusetts has a sense of humor.

Little Good: Did you get incredibly sorted?

Dyslexic Avenger: What say? You twat bloody shagger sheep!

Little Good: Bollocks. Shut your gob.

Dyslexic Avenger: Gob my shut?

Little Good: Let's go, you bloody tosser. Ring the sodding bell.

MM: And there it is. Dyslexic Avenger charges, but meets a fist.

Little Good: C'mon nancyboy. I need a good fight.

SW: He corners Dyslexic Avenger. OH NO! He's BITING Dyslexic Avenger's neck.

MM: Why are you so worried?

SW: Have you seen how dirty that retard's neck is?

MM: Well, Dyslexic Avenger's neck is busted wide open. And I believe that's a first for me saying that line.

SW: Hmm. Usually only EVIL jobbers bite other jobbers. I wonder what this means.

MM: Oh, another powerful punch. Avenger is down. Cover. One. Two. Three.

SW: We are moving around to a lot of cities for no good reason. One minute matches?

MM: There are time constraints.

[This one should be the main event. In hell. But here you go. Tampa is no doubt about ready to riot at this match.]

Commentator: *Coughcoughcoughhackhackcoughcough*

NH: *Coughcoughcoughhackhackcoughcough*

Commentator: *Ahemcoughcoughhackarooney*

[2 minutes later.]

NH: *Deep inhale* JJ DROP! ONE, TWO, THREE!

[WTF? Two minutes of coughing? Beautiful! Let's see what we can do for blow-off matches next!]

NH: It's "Hail To The Former Chief" time. Here comes Man Who Looks A Bit Like Nixon. A lot of controversy about his 7 ranking here.

Commentator: It's not the size of the heart in the dog. It's the size of the dog in the heart, Heidi.

NH: …

Commentator: And speaking of hearts, we are deep in the heart of Tampa tonight, Heidi. And here comes Mudman. Mudman has shades of the late Missing Link.

NH: I'm sure the Missing Link just kicked in his TV set at the remark, TC.

Commentator: Nixon sneezes! Oh dear lord! Did you see that gob of snot go flying. Direct hit! Mudman goes down! Nixon with a cover! One! Two! Three!

NH: The art of selling just reached new heights. I am speechless.

Commentator: You're damn right.

[Wow, this is getting original now. The snot rocket wins a match. Just wait 'til you see how THIS one ends. It's Alabama. And it is now!]

Tom: Two names.

Crow: Super Mollusc.

Tom: Stinkbutt Nastyass.

Tom + Crow: Run for your remote.

Tom: And here we go. No theme music, no entrances. No time. It's blow-off matches from now on. The natives are getting restless.

Crow: All six of them.

Tom: And what is this? Super Mollusc is on the offensive. This is amazing. Mollusc is beating the crap out of Nastyass.

Crow: Thankfully not literally.

Tom: Mollusc might pull the upset here.

Crow: Not according to Yahoo! sports.

Tom: Oh. Right. Uh oh. Mollusc drags Nastyass to his feet. Oh NO!

Crow: He's gonna try a piledriver? He's as stupid as that ninja moron BOB killed

Tom: Here we go.

Stinkbutt's Nastyass: PFFFFFFFFFFFTHWACK!

Crow: Mollusc falls flat on his back. Nastyass is still on top! There is the three count. And Nastyass advances to stink again. And all the stinky fans in Alabama are cheering?

Tom: We REALLY need to get out of here.

[OK now for something completely different, but pretty much the same, we're gonna jump over to Nashville. For…*sigh*]

Commentator: Hello everyone and welcome to Sunday Morning MAYHEM! It's gonna be a wild ride with a hint of slobberknocker! Buckle your seatbelts because Nurse Heidi is going to be in action, tonight! It's heinous, I tell you, absolutely heinous! She's a woman for God's sake! And it's just a heartbeat away.

["Let's the Bodies Hit the Floor"]

Commentator: Told you so! And here comes that jezebel Kelly Erik.

Kelly Erik: I'M WALKING TO THE RING. THE FANS DON'T LIKE MY YELLING. BUT THEY CAN ALL SCREW THEMSELVES. BECAUSE I AM WALKING AND TALKING AT THE SAME TIME.

Commentator: And Erik is talking a lot of smack on the way down.

[Then, the theme song from "Emergency" in MIDI from began playing.]

Commentator: And fans, BUSINESS, just picked up. Here comes Nurse Heidi, who has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen.

[Cut to Scotty.]

SW: And the biggest boobs. WOOHOO!

[Back to Commentator.]

Commentator: It's on like a glove fans. Oh, Heidi with a vile chop that echoed throughout the arena here in Nashville. CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! And another. And another. She's got Erik backed up into the corner. CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! She's whipping him like a pet coon that's tougher than a $2 steak drenched in barbecue sauce, giving Erik a case of the limbertail as he runs quicker than a hiccuping scalded dog.

Kelly: CLOTHESLINE!

Commentator: Oh, Kelly Erik with a vile clothesline. And I'm sure, as we speak, Scotty Whatbody is watching the outcome very closely. That sadistic bastard waiting for her top to fall off. But Heidi doesn't let Erik keep up the momentum.

NH: Clothesline!

Commentator: Erik ducks! BY GOD, BY GOD, A SWERVE! Heidi with a small package! Small package! Small package! ONE, TWO, THREE!! By God as my witness, Nurse Heidi has outsmarted Kelly Erik, and friends, it wasn't much of a short walk. We'll be back with more action, and it's just a heartbeat away!

[Are you ready? For what? Rapeage? Guess who is in action next in the Boston. Yep. Don't believe me? Keep reading.]

Scotty Whatbody: Well, folks, now we're about to get our bi-weekly dose of necrophilia, as Spacecop goes one-on-one with Hooker T!

Mike Monroe: I don't like Hooker T's chances in this matchup. I mean, Spacecop hasn't lost yet, and lord knows tha--

=C]: HEEEEYYYY MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!

[Spacecop appears in what I guess is a wartorn desert battlefield, on the TinyTron. He's not wearing anything demeaning, partially because I don't hate him, but mostly because he's a frigging smiley and doesn't tend to wear much.]

=C]: MAN, WHY DIDN'T YOU PARTY POOPERS HOLD THIS TOURNAMENT HERE?! IT'S A PARADISE!

SW: Oh, great... Spacecop's in Iraq! IRAQ! What the hell is he doing there?!

=C]: WHAT DO YOU THINK, WHATBODY? I'M HERE TO RAPE ANYTHING THAT DOESN'T MOVE! HEY, HERE'S A DYING IRAQI SOLDIER!

Iraqi Soldier: *mumbles something to the effect of "save me" in his language*

=C]: WHAT? YOU WANT ME TO END YOUR LIFE SO WE CAN GET WITH THE RAPEAGE? OKAY!

*STAB*

*RAPE*

MM: My God. Someone cut that feed! Nobody wants to see a smiley rape anyone!

SW: Except Spaceduck and maybe Mark Shill, but he's a special case.

MM: Well, I guess Hooker T is advancing in the tournament, since Spacecop isn't even here.

Hooker T: I can shovel that, BLOW-AAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

*HOOKEROONIE!*

[With the fans buzzing…no, not from the action, but from the drugs they have to do to be doped up enough to actually watch this stuff….anywho…let's go south to Tampa for more crap.]

Commentator: By god, this one is going to be a knockerslobber!

NH: Say what? Well, here comes the new incarnation of douja, sort of, it's Maui Wauie.

Commentator: It's gonna be one hell of a ride. Can you feel the electricity.

NH: Take your finger out of that outlet!

Commentator: Aww. I was gonna put barbecue sauce on my finger and eat it later. Darn it.

NH: You know you're not healthy. You'd do major damage to your heart. HERE COMES THE SUCK!

Commentator: Indeed it is! The Next Big Thingee Dustbuster Boy. This one should be off the charts!

NH: If you mean the ratings, yep, this match won't even register. Man, Dustbuster boy is, um, what's the opposite of jacked?

Commentator: Scotty Whatbody?

NH: Hmm. That'll due. Dustbuster Boy is Scottied.

Commentator: Dustbuster Boy with a clothesline! Clothesline! Clothesline!

NH: Stop that! It was one clothesline.

Commentator: He was trying for two more.

NH: Oh. I guess he was.

Commentator: Dustbuster boy picks Maui Wauie up! He's got him on his shoulders! SUCK YOU! SUCK YOU! SUCK YOU!

NH: That's what that move is called. Guess it could be worse. And there is the three count. Dustbuster Boy is your winner.

Commentator: I need to go to the bar!

[OK, let's go, um, over there.]

Crow: Oh baby. It's time for so wet, lesbian, action! And yes, that's copyright, iAd. Sue us McMahon. That's OUR material, you steroid jacked up rich guy.

Tom: Yeah, you tell him, Crow! We're in Birmingham, or so I'm told. And on her way out to the apt theme song, "Queer", here is, Kay Fabe!

Crow: I have a sense that Kay Fabe is about to be broken tonight. Along with most of her bones.

Tom: That's right, Crow. The rumor is Albert DeSalvo, her opponent, only likes his women one way. Dead and naked.

Crow: Isn't that, two ways?

Tom: Is it? I suppose so. Ah well.

Crow: And here he comes out to, um, what's his song?

Tom: Not sure. My memory is running low.

Crow: Well, if you really want to know, click on over to his bio page. If not, we don't really care.

Tom: And we thought the cards on Mystery Sports Entertainment Theatre were bad. Sheesh. A hooker killing man versus a lesbian witch. Yeah, this is realistic.

Crow: Wow. Did you just get a weird feeling?

Tom: Um. What do you mean.

Crow: Like this match just paused for three weeks and we just went through a worm-hole.

Tom: Uhhh.

Crow: Well, the crapfest in the ring has begun. Kay Fabe is not happy to be facing a man.

Tom: I came to see the Lesbian Tongue.

Crow: You what? Wait a minute! Hold on everybody, stop the show. We've got a run in!

Tom: Where's is Styles to yell oh my god. Look at who is in the ring! The crowd is amazingly silent. Apparently they forgot who this guy is.

Crow: So did I? Line!

Tom: It's The Domino!

Crow: The Domino? Isn't he dead?

Tom: His career was. Why is he here?

Crow: Did you see that!

Tom: Oh no! The Domino just pinched Albert DeSalvo! Generic Ref just called for the bell!

Crow: That was completely mean by The Domino. Pinching his arm like that.

Tom: Well, Albert wins by disqualification, but now Domino and Kay Fabe are face to face. What is going to happen?

Crow: A Domino Rally?

Tom: Are you psychic?

Crow: Just remembered the script.

Tom: And THERE is the Domino Rally, which by no means resembles the Rock Bottom. Or Kay's Bottom.

Crow: That may have just exercised Kay.

Tom: I think you mean exorcised.

Crow: Whatever. Uh oh. Domino's got a mic.

Tom: Oh NO! Domino has a guitar!

Crow: Hit YOURSELF with it.

Domino: The Domino says the Domino has come back to lay the crap down on the lesbian. Let me just sit down on the Domino's stool and start singing a song. It goes a little something like this. *Ahem* (Singing) Well the Domino has been robbed. By a bitch named Kay Fabe. That lesbian just ran out of luck. Because her gimmick sucks. (/Singing) Thank you.

Crow: The crowd sure didn't like that.

Domino: Well that's fine, The Domino says Alabama is Crapabama.

Crowd: Dommy sucks! Dommy sucks!

Domino: The Domino says not to call the Domino Dommy. Do you like the Domino's T-shirt?

Tom: It says, the Bookerman is a bastard. What does that mean?

[Cut to Bookerman.]

Bookerman: Screw you Domino!

[Back to Domino.]

Domino: Now. Hey!

Tom: Oh no! The ring is filling up. Do you know who those people are?

Crow: Not a fricking clue.

Tom: It's the Harbingers of Weed!

Crow: The what?

Tom: The Stoned Priests of the Second Cousin of the First Evil!"

Crow: The first what?

Tom: That one, I cannot answer. Ask John or Mike about that idea.

Crow: Who?

Tom: from the Christmas show. Didn’t they kidnap Sleazy-C too?

Crow: No. They wielded letters of the alphabet. Those were the Disgruntled Copy Editors or something.

Tom: A disgruntled copy editor? Isn't that redundant.

Crow: Well, they Harbingers of Weed have kidnapped Kay Fabe. I think we've had enough crap here. Let's go somewhere else before the Domino starts singing again.

["Is Stirring" sounds over the speaker, followed by the Domino Rally theme from old commercials. Thank God, we go somewhere else. Sadly, that place is where another match is about to begin. That place is Nashville. Let's join The Commentator and Nurse Heidi. For the *cough* main event.]

Commentator: Get ready for a wild ride covered in barbecue sauce, folks.

NH: It's time for the Undietaker to take on Brandon "Bitch Smacker" This one should be amazing.

Commentator: And here comes Brandon. What a horse this kid is. Beware of his uneducated feet.

NH: Uneducated feet?

Commentator: They didn't go to school.

NH: They went to Kent State.

Commentator: They did?

NH: Will you just shut up TC?

Commentator: All the combustible elements are here. Heidi and me here. And now, as God as my witness, through yellow stains and brown flakes, walks the theivem, the Undietaker.

NH: Which one is this?

Commentator: The Original Undietaker. Who is actually the Jundietaker.

Undietaker: Shut up jerkweed.

Commentator: And this one is underway. By God! The carnage! The carnage! The Undietaker just ripped Brandon's BVDs

BVD: Dood! HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Commentator: this is heinous! He took his Hanes. And now he's choking Brandon with his own undies!

Ref: One, six, three, ten! Ring the bell!

Undietaker: You will dress, in, fleece, for this!

Commentator: The Undietaker is looking goofier than a government mule with the limbertail. Oh no! It's a wedgie aided chokeslam from hell! Chokeslam! Chokeslam! Chokeslam! Chokeslam!

NH: Undietaker has been disqualified for choking Brandon with his underpants. Undietaker is a Flushed. Man. Walking!

Commentator: Chokeslam! Chokeslam! By god, the carnage!

NH: Bye.


© 2003 BOB. Just like an orgasm. The longer you wait, the better it is.

 

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