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DEJA VU ALL OVER AGAIN! (Only different...)

A brand, spanking new opening this week! All-new Cheesy Rock with Undecipherable Lyrics plays (possibly including the line: "BOB is the name and you know we ain't faking! BOB is the name and you know we like bacon! And then again, possibly not...) as a badly-edited montage of past and present BOB stars in action screens. Many classic(??) moments are shown, including:

- "Slightly Gay" Ray threatening to "Show the Worm"
- Zilla winning the AYOOYFM title in a half-pipe
- Blackjack Hooligan drinking beer
- Jim and Josh double-legdropping Bubba Gump
- Pzremslwvk being fired
- Blackjack Hooligan drinking another beer
- Justin Voss pinning Viet Kong for the Swiss Army belt
- Lord Sexbat getting spanked by "Bloody Mary"
- Blackjack Hooligan drinking direct from a keg
- StreetMime II getting pummeled in a variety of amusing fashions
- Blackjack Hooligan up-chucking into someone else's gym bag
- Sir Hungalot threatening to show "The Boa Constrictor"
- Billy Polar talking, and
- Sir Killalot finally winning the OWTTM belt

The montage ends with a series of shots that are WAY too fast for the naked eye to distinguish, but anyone with a really good freeze-frame on their videos might be able to pick out a shot of Nurse Heidi and Candy Cantaloupes from the never-screened "Strip Poker" match held to keep fans in the building during the "Footbrawl" intermission. Cut to the John Denver Memorial Auditorium in Havoc, West Virginia! Yes, we're right back where we started from, 13 Mayhems ago! And there's more than TWICE as many fans as we had at the Havoc YMCA Gym back at MMM 1!! We've come a long way, baby!!)

MM: WELCOME! To the NEW GENERATION OF BOB! Tonight, we've got a new commissioner calling the shots! We've got a new "ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS!" We've Got a NEW "Are You Out Of Your Frickin' Mind?" Champion, who will defend that title HERE, TONIGHT! And we've got a NEW color commentator! With GBH demoted to BOB New Jersey, and Nurse Heidi on...

SW: (Cheerfully) The rag!

MM: ... a brief vacation... (glares at Scotty)... Please welcome... Head Trauma Boy Coma! (The camera pans out, revealing the former STWF sub-superstar nibbling on his headset.)

Coma: Good morning. Poink! Hee hee hee...

(Coma carefully balances a potatoe potato on Mikes' head and produces a tiny bow-and-arrow from beneath the desk.)

MM: This could be a looooonnnnggg morning...


SW: Ow! My eye! Sonofa-BITCH!!

(Suddenly, "Whoomp! There It Is" by Tag Team with the "whoomps" replaced by the ka-ching of a cash register. Billy is standing on the entrance ramp and his mouth is moving a hundred miles a minute. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a microphone, as this is BOB. The only thing the crowd can make out is a belabored "I WENT TO HARVARD, DAMMIT!" which was surprisingly audible over all the boos. Suddenly a poor college temp runs up to Billy and hands him a rolled up newspaper. Billy swats him with it as he leaves.)

BP: Okay, BigBOSS, now this is just insane. You can afford the New York Times, but you can't afford a microphone? Yes, it is indeed one, I, Billy Polar, and it is time for my interview. Someone come out here and interview me! INTERVIEW ME, DAMMIT! Love ME! Interview ME! And bring me some of those grapes from catering. Those are good.

(The crowd is booing severely, but the Dyslexic Avenger can be seen in the audience with a "PORAL IS DOG" sign. It's sad how much sucking up some wrestlers have to do to get some air-time. Suddenly, Dennis is roughly pushed out from behind the curtains. He straightens his suit with a confused look on his face. He is holding a pink, toy microphone and he slowly ambles toward Billy with his head hung low.)

BP: You know, you don't have a very upbeat personality for a public persona.

D: Oh, bugger off.

BP: So, where are my grapes? Feed them to me!

(Dennis pulls a bunch of grapes out of his pocket, pulls one off, and plops it into Billy's mouth.)

MM: This is just disgusting!

SW: Well, Nurse Heidi isn't here. They had to improvise.

BP: So, Coma, my friend. Ahh, how they all follow I, Billy Polar, the Sensei of Success! Yes, it is great to have you here in BOB! Your journalistic stylings will be much appreciated by our tired and mentally stifled commentating staff. Good luck, my friend.

Coma: Meeple?

BP: What! I am not mentally---uh, stifled!

SW: Yeah, um. Uh. Your momma?

Coma: Wyatt, get your tongue out of my watermelon!

D: Can we talk about the card now, you bloody wanker, I mean, uh, commissioner? The fans appear to be walking to the lobby. And NOT to buy popcorn, I'm afraid.

BP: So, they're actually buying our merchandise now?

(Suddenly, he points to his "I'm With Stupid" t-shirt with the arrows pointing out in all directions. The camera focuses in on it as "Only $19.95" flashes on the screen.)

BP: Ladies and gentlemen and wrestling fans, to-NIGHT will be an historic night! It will be the GREATEST--uh--day of the week IN THE HISTORY OF THIS GREAT SPORT! And WHY? Because I'M BILLY POLAR, DAMMIT!

(Everyone in attendance yells "DAMMIT" right after Billy does which makes him jump in surprise.)

MM: Tonight? What the heck is he talking about, Scotty? It's six a.m.!

SW: Well, I guess it'll probably be tonight when HE finishes talking .

MM: Let's just hope you're wrong.

BP: HEY! Hey, guys! Do you mind? I'm trying to talk here. Now, shut up, 'cause you're pissing the fans off!

MM: Well, it looks like somebody's head is getting a little too big for his... for his...

Coma: Bosnia-Herzegovina?

MM: Uh...yeah. Yeah.

BP: (sounding like the Twilight Zone guy) Yes, imagine if you will, two four-hundred pounders facing off IN A SCAFFOLD MATCH! Also, a Herb Romaine match. Yes, yes. I'm sorry about that one. But hey, if Herb LOSES, then his pet sheep will have to be shaved NAKED! That's right, I said NUDITY !

(The crowd pops big-time.)


MM: Uh, Scotty?

Coma: It really is what my grandma says. He should know. We can dance if we want to. Well now, hello kitty.

BP: That's right, that's right. I know what you West Virginians want! And, since this is West Virginia, and they're making me say it, uh, okay... bohemoth.

(The crowd is screaming louder than any in BOB history. Billy starts jumping up and down in an angered tantrum. Think Shawn Micheals in contract negotiations...)


Dennis: Billy, Billy, Billy. You know, old chap, telling them to be quiet only encourages them.

BP: I was talking to you! In fact, you know what? I' m the commissioner, dammit, and YOUR ASS IS FIRED!

MM: WHOA!! He can' t do that!


Coma: Poink! Superwackyfunland: You' re not getting any lines here, folks. Your boat is the real deal, but the Japanese make them better, Heidi.

MM: Dang it. You know, is this gonna go on all day?

SW: Well, what, are you talkin' Coma or--

BP: Now, may I introduce you to the man of the hour, and NEW BOB Only-Interviewer-That-Matters Interviewer, Li' l Peppy!!

(The crowd goes nuts for the li' l legend as he comes down the aisle to "Macarena" by Los Lobos, and is sitting on a throne carried by six Toledo Mudhen cheerleaders.)

BP: Now, you fans might not know this, but Peppy has a legitimate second job as mascot of the Toledo Mudhens.

SW: That' s who took my job?! That son of a--

Dennis: What the bloody hell is this!? You can' t do this to me! I have a contract, you know!

BP: Well, you' re just gonna have to take that up with Peppy now, because I certainly don' t care.

MM: And judging by the fans' reaction, they don' t care either! Come on, Billy! Let' s get to the matches already! (trying to get a chant going) WE WANT MATCHES! WE WANT MATCHES!

(Unfortunately, the fans don' t hear Mike clearly as a wave of confused faces courses through the audience, since a widespread chant of "WE PAY TAXES!" breaks out. This is probably caused by the unfortunate acoustics of the John Denver Memorial Auditorium.)

Dennis: (ignoring the audience) With pleasure. I will kick his scrawny little bum, or more appropriately, STOMP it!

BP: Whoa-ho-ho! Are you gonna take that, Peppy? Make fun of his teeth! Make fun of his teeth!

LP: I yam de kraysee loco, esSAY! I know judone juan mess vwit me, horto! Eh-HEEHEEHEE!

BP: Whoa, guys! Not here! Not here! Save it for the ring! You'll get your shot at NAGAM!

(Billy has to physically restrain the both of them. Dennis with his arms, and Peppy with one foot. Security comes out and escorts them both to the back, leaving Billy alone in the aisle.)

MM: Well, ladies and gentlemen, I sure don't know what to make of all that. Quite frankly, I apologize, and on behalf of--

BP: Wow. (looking at his watch) Ladies and gentlemen and fans in attendance, I have just broken Vince McMahon's record of twenty minutes of pointless stalling before a match!

(the crowd cheers)

BP: And I'm not even done yet!

(The crowd boos)

MM: What a primadonna! This is just sickening, Scotty. If he's going to be doing all the talking today, then I might as well go home and get some shut-eye.

SW: Oh, come on, Mike! Admit it!

MM: Admit what? That I like Billy Polar as our commissioner? Well, I don' t! I hate the guy. Sure, he' s a talented individual, but--

SW: No, no! Admit that you don' t own your house. You rent, don' t you!

BP: Hey, I promised you you'd be a part of history. Let the buyer beware. Sheesh. Now, on to the other matches. Ahh, tonight's main event will be Da Sassy Bitch facing off against up-and-comer J.C. Long in a "Winner-Is-Nurse-Heidi's-Lamaze Partner" Match. That should be interesting, huh, huh?

(The crowd is still booing)

BP: Okay, okay, on to our first match. I'LL do the introductions! The winner of this match, along with a partner of his or her choice, are the Yugohaf tag team champions. Now, introducing first, the hottest young stars in wrestling today--oh, and congrats to them on starting a new boy band. Ladies and whoever, may I proudly present, the KKK!!!

("Hit Me Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears blares through the loudspeakers. The Krew comes out looking annoyed, as usual. Also, Jim and Brandon are carrying somebody in a full-body cast. We can only assume it' s Josh.)

Jim: Uh, listen, Billy, that's the "K-S-K" . The Kent STATE Krew.

BP: Yeah, sure, whatever. Tonight's the night to show me what you got. If you win, we' ll talk.

MM: What the hell? Josh hasn' t been cleared to wrestle tonight! He was injured in that Inferno match at NAGAM! What' s Polar thinking? Josh could get killed out there!

SW: Hey, this is BOB, Mike! We ain' t no overpaid, sissy boys. We wrestle for the love of the sports entertainment! And Josh' ll be damned if he' ll let a little flesh wound over 80% of his body keep him from winning the tag team titles!

(For some reason, Billy stands silently with his eyes closed and his left fist raised in the air as Zilla mugs to the fans on his way to the ring.)

BP: Snooty booty, my friend. That's the best kind. I hear you. I hear you. Now introducing, uh, some moron who looks remarkably like the Goon.

(Jean Bannister waddles out to "Amazing Grace". He shakes his hockey stick at Billy in anger)

BP: And of course, his butty --heh heh. See what I did there? B-u-T-T-y. Heh. Anyway, it's "Sexual Thunder" Sir Hungalot, and his sister, Candy-For-Brains!

("I Need A Dirty Woman" plays as Sir Hungalot and Candy walk to the ring looking annoyed and upset by the three women dancing down to ringside behind them. They can only be described as "women of the street". Make that "homeless women of the street".)

BP: Followed by his STDs! The Sexual Thunder Dancers! And I think that' s it. I' m Billy Polar and you' re not. Back to you, Coma!

Coma: Poink? Wurfle. My mommy got her new hair from that doggy in the window yesterday.

(Billy drops the microphone. VP then emerges from the curtain, adjusting his headband and knee-high sweat socks while looking angry and determined. As Mike and Scotty are staring at Coma (Who's doing the "Funky-Fly-White-Boy" dance) with fear in their eyes, Billy Polar suddenly runs back in with a smile on his face.)

BP: Oh, did I mention this was a cage match? Alright, bring out the cage, Eddie!

(Eddie B. and the Flunky, both wearing weight-belts, emerge from the curtains with a small bear cage on their shoulders. The audience stops popping and another wave of confused eye-blinking permeates the crowd. The wrestlers just look even more annoyed than they did walking to the ring.)

MM: Good lord! That looks just like the li' l cage from Footbrawl! This is insane! No way eight people can fit in there! This is absolutely stupid!

SW: Ha ha! Whoever wins this is really gonna have to SQUEEZE out a victory! I love it!

Coma: Poink, does it matter, honey, or do I have to get a CLEAN butterknife?

Jim: Billy, what is this? I thought we were going to--

BP: Listen, everybody, either you get in the cage, or you get in the unemployment line!

VP: You' re gonna pay for this, Polar. Just so you know.

Candy: Hey, that was my color!

VP: You' re gonna pay for that as well, Polar. Just so you know.

MM: Fans, again I apologize. I don' t understand how this can possibly work.

SW: It 's simple, Mono-Brain. You cram 'em in and close the door. The first one out wins. And I have no doubt who that will be.

MM: Oh, really. If you know so much, then enlighten us. Who's going to win this match?

SW: Oh, isn't it obvious, Mike? Billy Polar's gonna win this match! Ha ha! I love that guy! What a commish! He's a commish-and-a-half, Mike. He really is.

(The Kent State Krew gets in first, followed by VP, Zilla, Candy and Bannister. Sir Hungalot has somewhat more trouble getting in. No comment there.)

MM: And the door is closed.

SW: And they're off!!!

Coma: Poink?

SW: Huh. And they' re not moving...

MM: Yeah. Ladies and gentlemen, again, I apologize for this ridiculous, uh, scene you see before you, but we're running behind so we need to move on to the next match. We'll check back in periodically to see how our caged friends are faring. Fans, I know it' s a lot to ask, but please stay with us. We'll go to a short commercial so they can set up the scaffolding because, you guessed it--BOHEMOTH and MITTENS!! NEXT!!!

(The oh-so familiar "Like A Rock" Ford truck theme blares as the viewing audience is treated to a view of two beached sailboats. The next scene cuts to two toy sailboats bobbing up and down in a kid's wading pool. A caption reads: "Leslie's Sailboats: Don't Leave Shore Without Them" )

MM: And we're back, fans.

SW: What the hell was that, Monroe? Who'd buy a boat that sails like a rock? Come to think of it, who'd buy a truck that drives like one?

MM: Now, Scotty, there's no need for you to insult our fans. I'm sure many of them are well-educated and well-meaning people. There's just no call for that!

Coma: Poink! Trucks ate my happy place! There is nowhere to go for us now, Mr. Belvedere.

MM: Now that's just getting downright creepy. Well, fans, the scaffolding has been set up near the backstage area and Mittens has already climbed to the top of the scaffold. WHOA!! He almost fell right there!

SW: Hey, man, when you're over four-hundred pounds and you shift your weight...well, let's just say you might never get up again.

MM: And whoever's underneath you probably won't, either.

("Mmm Bop" blares as Bohemoth angrily saunters to the scaffold. The camera does a close up. He has death in his eyes and a booger in his nose, but when he sees the sheer height of the scaffold, he resorts to biting his fingernails.)

MM: This is just insane! They could both be killed! Does Billy Polar care, Scotty? My GOD, does he even care!?

SW: Of course he cares. He's the commissioner! Of course he cares about their well-being. These are two huge role models to... uhhhhh....uhhmmmm...

Coma: Poink!

SW: Coma! Yes, Coma looks up to them.

MM: Don't give me that! Plenty of people look up to them. These men are two of the toughest men ever to ever lace up wrestling boots.

SW: Or at least have their assistants do it.

MM: And speaking of tough, it's getting tough to see them all the way over there, what with my astigmatism and all.

SW: Don't worry. I'll keep you posted on what's happening. Uhhh, they're lying down with their arms wrapped around the scaffold.

MM: There. Oh, come on! These may be the two toughest men in wrestling, but they're also the two dumbest for even agreeing to do this match!

SW: Boy, I tell ya, I won' argue with you there. Hey, they're moving! Unbelievable! *sigh*Oh wait, they're walking towards each other. Ohmigod, Bohemoth's asking for a test of strength! And Mittens just started crying!

MM: No, he didn't! (squinting) UH OH! That can't be good! No one cries up that much liquid!

SW: Poor Mittens. I wonder if he'll ever live that one "down" . Get it? Down? 'Cause they're on a scaffold? Anybody?

MM: No, I don't get it. That was really inappropriate, Scotty. Especially with the danger these two monstrous human beings are in.

SW: Hey look! Mittens just cheapshotted the Big Bo in the breadbasket. He's got him doubled over and he's pushing on his head!

MM: He's trying to get him off balance, but Bohemoth is fighting to keep his footing. He doesn't want to fall in front of his home-state crowd.

SW: Hell, he doesn't want to fall period! That's gotta be over twenty feet above the mat!

MM: Well, we in the wrestling biz do tend to exaggerate things sometimes, but I can assure you fans that it's at least a good 5+ feet!

SW: Oh, good going, you moron! That'll keep 'em tuned in!

MM: Oh my! Oh my! Mittens got too close and Bohemoth lifted him up for a huge backdrop on the scaffold!! And now Bohemoth is choking him!

SW: I don't understand. Why doesn't Bohemoth just pitch him over the side?

MM: Do I even have to answer that? You don't understand ring psychology at all, do you?

SW: Hey, all I know is that it'd still be better than the first match.

MM: That match still going on by the way. WHOA! Mittens managed to roll over and Bohemoth is hanging off the scaffold by his arms and holding on for dear life! My GOD! The very fact that Bohemoth can even support his own tremendous body weight just goes to show you that he is the strongest, most agile big man this sport has ever seen!

SW: Either that, or it shows you how many steroids he's been taking.

MM: You know, Scotty. Comments like that are why you can't get a job in any other promotion. What the-? Why's-? Fans, I don't know what's going on, but it looks like Mittens is helping Bohemoth back up onto the scaffold. It looks like---NO!

SW: It is! It is! He's setting Bohemoth up for a DDT off the scaffold into the ring!

MM: Good God! But they'll both fall!

SW: I don't think he cares! He's lost it, Monroe! He wants to put the Big Hurty on the Big Bozo! YES! Now THIS is the Mittens of old!

MM: I can't believe this! The crowd is on its feet!

SW: Already? But this is only the second match! Don't leave yet, people!


(A tremendous thunderclap can be heard throughout the arena.)

MM: BOHEMOTH HAS WON IT! BOHEMOTH HAS WON IT! He just pushed Mittens right off!

SW: Yup. That noise you heard was just Mittens falling off the scaffold. Jesus still loves us, apparently.

MM: Where did Mittens land, by the way? I cant see from this vantage point.

SW: On a lawsuit. That would be a safe bet.

MM: Wait a second, why isn't Bohemoth climbing down? He's--oh Good God, no! He's signaling for the Smasher! He's pointing at Billy Polar and roaring! SMASHER! SMASHER! OHMIGOD!

Coma: Poink! Bohemoth has my moustache. If he gives it back, I'll ride the train! Nerf!

MM: That was the damnedest thing I've ever seen! Neither of them are moving! Somebody get a medic! We need a medic! Where are the trainers? We need some help out here!

SW: This is BOB. All we have is a motivational speaker and a massage therapist.

MM: Oh, good, the Ambulance Jockeys are coming down to ringside with their stretchers!

(The Jockeys try to help, but they can't budge the two big men, so they just shrug their shoulders and retreat to the back. A close-up reveals the legs of StreetMime II protruding from beneath Mittens' gargantuan carcass.)

MM: Don't worry, fans. I'm sure they're going back to get more help.

SW: More help at the bars, maybe. Don't worry, Monroe. They'll be alright. They're not going anywhere. We'll have to wait until after the fans are gone to get them out of there. Besides, if you're unconscious and someone else screws your wife, does it ever really bother you, Mike?

MM: What's that supposed to mean?

SW: (suddenly startled out of wherever his mind was going) *ahem*... Nevermind.

MM: Well fans, it's time for our next matchup, but first, let' s get some comments from these two young studs.

SW: Uh, Mike...

MM: What?

SW: You're really starting to worry me. When's Nurse Heidi coming back, anyway?

(Pan to the "BOB-Tron" which is, in reality, a TV/VCR setup on wheels "acquired" from a local high school. Clive presses the play button. Steve Studnuts can be seen in the lobby of a Motel 6.)

Steve: Hello, jerkweeds. Do you know where your sister is? Well, I do. Do you know where your baby sister is? I know that, too. I played Playstation 2 with them just last night. And then I had SEX with 'em! HA! Hey. Don't hate me because I' m beautiful, alright? Hate me because I' m sleeping with your wife! *cough cough* Monroe *cough*

MM: What? He's just kidding. Mary would never do that to me.

Steve: Hey, shut your dickhole so I can finish, alright Monroe?

MM: What, is this live? I thought this was pre-taped...

Steve: How you doin' tonight, ladies? If there's any of you out there tonight who'd like to have a little, heh heh,, then here's my number. Heh heh. (he holds up a sign displaying a phone number)

MM: What the-? That's MY number!

SW: You lucky bastard!

MM: Hey, I'm not worried. My wife'll understand.

SW: She'll understand thousands of women calling you at all hours of the night? Nobody'd understand that!

MM: Hey, my wife isn't the jealous type, okay? She just doesn't get jealous and neither do I.

SW: No, I was referring to the fact that she wouldn't understand why thousands of girls would ever have reason to call you.

Coma: Poink! Watermelons have seeds, right? They have seeds.

(Mike and Scotty look in awed shock to where Coma is sitting. Two strippers in bikinis are sitting on his lap.)

Coma: Billy Baldwins' waterbuffalo needs walkies. Neep!

SW: Since when did Coma become a pimp? What's he got that I don't?

MM: I don't know. I don't get it. Maybe he's Mormon and those are his two wives...

SW: This is probably Polar's doing! I should have sucked up to him more...

(Suddenly the inside of a door is shown on the TV screen. A knocking sound can be heard. The door is opened and Herb Romaine is standing there.)

Herb: Good evening, friend. Have you ever been the victim of a--I mean, uh, are you happy? Are you truly happy with your life? Do you ever wonder if this is truly the way you were meant to live? Well, worry no longer, my friend, for I bring you Enlightenment! *ahem* Donation?

(The door begins to close.)

Herb: Hey! Don't you close that door on me! Don't you CLOSE--

(An off screen hand finally manages to slam the door shut.)

Herb: oh, you done it now! Boy, you need a smitin'!

SW: What the hell was that! Has Herb been brainwashed?

MM: I don't know. I guess we'll find out in the upcoming weeks. Take it away, Masked Announcer!

MA: This contest is scheduled for one fall... making his way to the ring, the self-proclaimed "Your Lady's Man", Steve Studnuts! Now introducing, from Endive, North Dakota, weighing in at 235 pounds, and accompanied by Betty Lou, here is "The Caprinid Kid" Herb Romaine!!

(Herb comes to the ring to " Born Free" with Handel's "Messiah" played quietly in the background.)


MM: Herb starts it off with an armbar... he's really cranking it in...and he's still grinding down on the arm of Studnuts...Herb still not letting up off the pressure.

SW: Wow. You know, I really expected more from the renowned Plant Killer.

MM: You're not kidding. Who writes these crappy matches?

(The camera pans to Billy Polar sitting in the front row with a satisfied look on his face.)

BP: (To a little kid beside him)Oh, yes. The armbar. I love that move! Take that, Crudnuts! Classic, classic move. That move can break your arm, boy, I tell ya.

Kid: Leave me alone, mister!

MM: The action getting fast and furious in the ring! Studnuts shoves Romaine to the turnbuckle, and a biel out of the corner! But the Sheepshucker is quickly back on his feet and he levels Steve with a kneedrop-driver! And now he's stomping away!

SW: Wow! What innovation by the notorious Vegetable Murderer! A kneedrop-driver! I've never seen that before!

MM: Now Herb with ANOTHER armbar... and, as you might have guessed, he's grinding it in again... *sigh* still wrenching on the arm...

(The camera pans to Coma at ringside, who now has Betty Lou the sheep sitting on his lap instead of the two showgirls.)

MM: Ummmm...

SW: Man! Those poor girls! Dumped for a sheep. That's gotta hurt. Maybe I better go console them.

MM: No, you're going to stay right here and call the match.

SW: Alright, alright! Cock-blocker.

MM: Anyway, I wonder how Herb is going to respond to Coma stealing his, uh, "lady friend"?

SW: I don't know, Mike, but if anyone, I thought it would be Studnuts stealing Herb's "female companion".

MM: I really don't think he's into sheep.

SW: Hey, man. Sheep don't look that bad to some people, alright? That's all I'm saying. Especially here in West Virginia. Do you know what they call cows here, Mike?

MM: No. Uhmm, meat?

SW: Wrong. Whores. They call them whores.

MM: Really. I just don't get it. You' re gonna have to explain this whole sheep-shanking thing to me.

SW: Well, you just go down to your local shady bestiality joint and--

MM: No, we're NOT having this conversation! Screw the damn script!

SW: Okay, okay! Just sit down! Calm down. Just call the match, then.

MM: Alright. Ohmigod! Herb just blasted out of the corner with his Salad Shooter bulldog! Studnuts is out! Herb about to score a major upset here... 1...2...NO! Studnuts kicked out! Studnuts kicked out!

SW: Man, Studnuts isn't faring too well in this matchup. He must be distracted by all the ladies in the audience.

MM: Yes, we certainly do have some fine looking young females in the audience tonight.

SW: I was referring to their lack of teeth. Now, that's certainly disturbing. Ugh.

MM: Herb up top in the high-rent district. I bet he's thinking "What do I have to do to put this guy away?" He's setting up for a flying elbow.

SW: Actually, I bet he's thinking "What the heck is Coma doing to my sheep?"

(Several pitiful BAAAAAA's can be heard in the background.)

SW: Coma's riding Herb's sheep! Coma's riding Herb's sheep!

MM: Scotty! It isn't what you think, folks. Coma just doesn' t understand that sheep aren't little woolly horses. Herb is flying through the air! Look out Scotty!


MM: Wow, fans. Herb just landed on Coma and he is a house of fire! Rights and left!

SW: Wow, Coma can't even get a "poink" in edgewise!

MM: Studnuts to the outside now! Ooh! He just nailed Herb from behind..

SW: Excuse me?!

MM: ..with a chair! Studnuts dragging Herb back into the ring now... Herb spit in his eyes! Studnuts momentarily blinded... and Herb nails him with a lariat! Herb waiting for Steve to get back to his feet... here comes another lariat, but NO! Studnuts blocked it with a superkick to Herb's, uhhh, to Herb's nuts.

SW: Ooh! The Sweet Sac Music. Talk about an effective move! Herb won't be shucking any sheep tonight!

MM: He will if he loses, remember? Studnuts now setting up for a Rude Awakening, but no! He just lowblowed Herb with his leg... and there's the Rude Awakening!

SW: Yup. He just invented that move last week. I wonder what he calls it.

MM: He could call it "Margaret" for all the difference it's gonna make. Herb is out! And this one is over!

MA: Here is your winner...STEVE STUDNUTS!!

MM: And what's this? Coma just happens to have some sheepshearing clippers!

SW: How ironic that he should have sheep clippers on the very night that there's a sheep in the arena. That's freaky!

MM: Ohmigod, Coma is shaving Betty Lou and the crowd is going absolutely crazy!

SW: What the? THIS was the big nudity incident that Billy was talking about? A naked sheep does not constitute nudity! I want my money back!

MM: Sorry Scotty. We're paying you to be here.

(Suddenly, cheesy techno strip club music starts playing as Studnuts starts grinding behind the sheep and slapping it's ass. The females, I think, are going crazy. It's kind of hard to tell in this arena because everybody has interconnecting eyebrows.)

MM: Well, fans, once we get order restored here, we'll move on to our main event, but first, let's check out how the seven men and one woman in one/eighth of a cage are faring...

(The camera pans over to the li'l cage, where it appears that nothing at all has changed from when the match first started. Josh shifts a little, and we can see purple indentations on his face from where he was squashed against the cage.)

Jim: Hey! Get your knee out of my back!

Sir Hungalot: That's not my knee...

SW: Wow, I love cage matches. The action is always hot and heavy.

MM: My broadcast partner being sarcastic ladies and gentlemen. This is just a travesty. All eight of these competitors thought they were getting a legit match tonight.

SW: Who says they aren't Mike? The first one out is the winner.

MM: Hey, it looks like Zilla is trying to crawl over to where VP is. He desperately wants to win his AYOOYFM hardcore title back.

Zilla: Dude! I can't reach you! Eh! Eh! (Zilla's arms are pinned to his side, so he's reaching out with two fingers. Suddenly, Brandon slips his hands down Candy's shorts.)

Candy: Hey! Get your hands off my ass!

Brandon: Sorry! I can't move. I guess we'll have to wait until they let us out.

VP: What the hell? Ewww! Hey, which one of you faggots is getting a boner!?

Candy: I'm sorry. It's me. It's just--being locked in a cage with seven guys...

(There is a shocked silence for a few seconds before everyone starts screaming "HELP" and "SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE" in unison.)

Candy: (laughing) I'm just kidding. God, you guys are so gullible.

MM: Well, fans. That match progressing like we thought it would--not at all. But now, it's time for our main event, and if that doesn't just beat all, Billy Polar's in the ring again!

BP: Wow, what a great night it's been, huh? And it's not over! Let's bring out a very special friend of mine, Da Sassy Bitch! (the audience is laughing at Billy for some reason)

BP: What? So he's my friend. So what? Anyway, Sassy. You know that tonight you'll be facing that upstart rookie, J.C. Long.

Sassy: Uhhhh, actually Billy, he had to cancel.

BP: Cancel? What? Why? This is the main event, dammit!

DSB: Uhh, well, uh, he's sick. Yeah. He got pneumonia in his pancreas or something.

BP: Oh well, I'm the commissioner, huh? Don't panic. I'll think of something. Don't panic. DON'T PANIC!

DSB: Uh, yeah. Uh, you know, uh, I'm not panicking. Yeah. Just thought you should know.

BP: I got it! You will face none other than douja! In the middle of a circled square, tonight!

MM: Whoa! What a blockbuster announcement!

SW: Uh, yeah, okay. So--where IS douja?

(Suddenly, the BOB-tron turns on again. douja is standing in the middle of a ring in an empty arena with a referee at his side. The referee starts counting.)

BP: (slapping his forehead) Oh, shoot! I forgot. douja's still in New Jersey! I mean, Hell. douja's still in Hell. You better hurry! The referee's already up to five!

(Da Sassy Bitch cusses out Billy and sprints out of the ring, but is blindsided by a chair. douja was hiding under the ring all along.)

MM: Ohmigod! douja just flattened the Sassy One!

SW: And probably our ratings, too!

MM: And now, both douja AND our hallowed commissioner are going to town on Sassy! Oh, the humanity!

SW: Wow. Another violent attack by douja. It seems like he's systematically going through every contender for the OWTTM belt.

MM: I think you're right on the money there, Scotty. The onslaught continues. Billy's holding Sassy up for a chairshot from douja and--


SW: Uh, douja accidentally teetered and hit Mike instead. It's obvious to me that douja is pissed. In fact, he was talking to me about this backstage. He won the world title, but the front offices decided that a pothead winning the big one sends out the wrong message to the kids, so then they devised this "ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS" tournament to take the belt off of him. Only problem is, he won it! And he won't rest until he gets his title back!

MM: Ow! My head! Anyway, you have to admit that that's a legitimate concern. What CAN you say about a pothead that has won just about every major title available. What kind of message does that send out?

SW: Probably none. No one watches UHF anyway.

MM: Well, fans, we're out of time. For Coma and Scotty Whatbody, this is Mike"The Monotone" Monroe and we'll see you next Monday or whenever.

Coma: Poink!

(Fade out and then fade back in on the li'l cage. The arena is completely empty now save a janitor who is mopping the floor right by the cage.)

VP: Hey, hey you! Let us out!

(The janitor responds by moving a few feet farther away from the cage.)

VP: (staring intently into the camera) Damn you, Polar. I AM going to get you for this. Just so you know. Just so you know.

Jim: Ummm, does anybody ELSE have to go to the bathroom?

(Fade out.)

© 2001 BOB Wrestling! The Polar Era Has Begun! (God Help Us All!)


© BOB Wrestling!

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