A dark screen. The sound of footsteps is heard as the TVM logo appears in the upper left hand corner of the screen. There is a buzzing noise and then there is light. We see a hand pulling away from a plug. Above the plug are the hand-written words: PLUG MY HOLE, BIG BOY!
[A picture of a seal appears on the monitor. Not a presidential seal by any means. Just a seal.]
Seal: Orr! Orr! Orr! Orr! Orr! Orr! Orr! Orr!
Caption: And now, a word from your new Commander-in-Chief, Clinton.
[We cut to (Dude Whose A Dead Ringer For) Clinton, who is seated at a desk, sniffing a cigar.]
Clinton: My fellow Americans. At this hour, Brawlers On a Budget forces are in the early stages of parody operations to disarm the Stereo Type Wrestling Federation, to force their employees to come work for us and to defend the world from the year 1997.
Clinton: On my orders, BOB forces, tonight, on the first edition of Monday Nae Trous, will begin striking selected targets of wrestling importance to undermine the STWF's leaders ability to wage war on the year 2006 and Brawlers On a Budget fans and employees. These are the opening pieces of a loooong angle devised by my cabinet. More than 10 people have pledged their support to this company and have ventured into the scary world we know only as 1997. They have pledged to give their bodies and dignity for whatever ideas me and my cabinet come up with.
Clinton: To all the men, women and inanimate objects of the Brawlers On a Budget payroll now in the STWF, the peace of a troubled federation and the hopes of depressed wrestling fans now depends on you. The enemies you confront will come to know what is means to be a member of Brawlers On a Budget. The people you force to join our side in this war will witness the sneaky tactics, the likes of which have never been seen on a Monday night before. In this conflict, BOB faces an enemy who has no conventions of Monday night wars or rules of time travel and space time continuums. The STWF beamed its signal into every television set that has a cable box or possibly even a satellite dish. They are attempting to garner ratings and raise funds to pay their employees and other atrocities.
Clinton: I was BOB fans around the world to know that our forces will make no effort to spare blood, bruising, broken boneage or any other hurty methods it may take to overcome this ruthless enemy. A campaign to seize this place that is way smaller than Rhode Island should drag on ad nauseum until the ratings begin to suffer and the Internet fans begin to complain. Helping the STWF see that joining BOB, and NOT taking over the year 2006, will require our sustained effort.
Clinton: We come to the STWF with no respect for its citizens, for their great federation or for whatever booking decisions they have made in the past or plan to make in the future, which now, is our past. Our only ambition is to remove the threat to our safety in the year 2006 and beyond and take control away from its very own employees and shape it with our best interests in mind. Possibly even trademarking some things secretly that could make us lots of money in the future. But I digress.
Clinton: I'm sure everybody watching is praying that this angle will not royally suck and that it will not be yet another large scale idea that begins and is just dropped. But if you watch it, we will try our darndest to make it entertaining. But we're fighting a war here, not a popularity contest. And our forces will be coming home as soon as their work is done, or Comedy Central cancels our Monday night time slot.
Clinton: We enter this conflict with the biggest balls of them all. The people of BOB and 2006 will not live at the mercy of an outlaw federation that threatens the peace with a television signal that could easily beam them into our year and compete with BOB. We must meet that threat before the secrets of time travel fall into their hands. With our luchadores, or hardcores, our washing machines and our big immobile brawlers.
Clinton: Now that conflict has come, the only way to limit its duration is to have our timeslot cut by Comedy Central. I assure you this will be a campaign of half measures and botched moments. We will accept no outcome but total annihilation and glorification, to make up for the small size of our genitalia.
Clinton: BOB fans, the dangers to our federation and our year will be overcome. We will pass through this time of peril after numerous BOB-On-Demand events and Monday Nae Trous. There will never be peace, for we are a war federation and I am a war commander-in-chief. We will defend our right to travel through time and take over whatever promotions we want. We will bring ratings. We will bring in money. Or we will be canceled.
Clinton: May God bless Monica and all the ways I will defile her once the cameras are off. Good night, America!
Fuck You, 1997!
(Interior of the Kiel Center. The two guys normally holding flare guns and sparklers have now upgraded to Roman Candles. Hey! *PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH*)
[Hit the bricks, nuthook. There's a new narrator in town. A narrator with brackets. That's right, Detached Narrator!]
[From Brawlers On a Budget. The company that is the first-ever to execute a time-traveling takeover! Get used to it. This isn't gonna be a bunny rabbit hugs and kittens takeover. It's gonna be like red ants shot into your picnic-smeared anus.]
Angus McMadden: Welcome everyone to Monday Nae Trous, live from the Kiel Center in St. Louis! I'm Angus "Vince" McMadden, and with me as always is Rogue's Gallery Correspondent Jamal Tupac Mustafa, and actively retired octogenarian wrestler Captain Twilight, and WE'RE NOT WEARING PANTS!
Jamal Tupac Mustafa: Yo V, how do THEY know that? The camera only shows our torsos!
AM: Well, let's show them!
[The camera pans down. McMadden is wearing a kilt, Mustafa is wearing a loincloth and Captain Twilight is wearing superhero tights. Camera pans back up and shakes back and forth, as if the cameraman was shaking his head.]
AM: But seriously, folks, we have a great show for you. Let's kick it off—
[But suddenly, Mr. McMadden is interrupted by the sound of "Killed By Death" by Motorhead. Oh yeah, bitches. It's on!]
AM: Uh, what's going on?
JTM: Yo, look in da crowd. There's a bunch of people comin' down the stairs causin' a ruckus. And they've got a washing machine with them.
[Death, Kurt Angel, The Bride, Dr. Thrilla, Meat-Puppet, Mr. Paradox, Queen Mylisiv, Sir Zeno, Nic Flare, Pete X-Factor Trable, Snapmare Kid, Unit 5, Wig Show, Urine and XXXtreme Machine are all dressed in orange camoflauge pants and orange Brawlers On a Budget logo T-shirts. Well, except for Death, who is as usual, dressed in his designer cloak.]
CT: It's that Death fellow. The one who appeared on our last show.
AM: Well, they're taking front row seats. I don't think I've ever seen a washing machine in the front row of a wrestling event before. Are we ready to continue? OK. The Forces of Justice are ready to take on the Techie Salesmen from Hell, Bait & Switch!
Announcer Lad: Ladies and gentlemen, I have been informed that Bait & Switch wish to make an announcement.
[They enter. Both are wearing shirts and ties, carrying briefcase laptops. Switch has a piece of paper in his hand.]
Switch: Hey Forces, did you even read the contract? You're not fighting us, but three teams in a row, with your belts on the line, and the only way to end a match is by pinfall or submission - no contests aren't even gonna happen!
[The Forces come out looking really angry. They snatch the paper and read it.]
Judge: Can we get a ruling on this please?
[The Right Hand Man walks out and reads the paper.]
The Right Hand Man: This is the contract you signed. You should have read better. So let's get the first match on already!
[Death jumps the barricade and grabs The Right Hand Man. A Netherworld powerbomb later, Right Hand Man wasn't moving. Death notices the dead silence in the arena.]
Death: Please, go about your business. Nothing more to see here. *Ahem*
[Death hops over the guardrail.]
Bait: So let's introduce your first opponents. You know them well: they mauled you twice, but you kept your belts by DQ. It's not going to happen this time, though! Please welcome...THE CAPITAL PUNISHERS!
[The Night Court theme music plays. Two guys in suits with Haliburtons rush the ring, Haliburtons flailing. The bell rings.]
AM: This is going to be one hell of a donnybrook! Mark Cheatham and the Judge to start things off. Judge nails a German suplex on Cheatham, and follows up with an elbowdrop. Picks him up...DDT! Picks Cheatham up again...Judge lands a reverse DDT! Tag to Preacher, who has an easy job ahead.
JTM: Yo! Da STWF is bein' invaded, and you're following a script? Dis is just weird.
AM: They seem to have calmed down since Future Death attacked the Right Hand Man. Just ignore them and maybe they'll go away.
CT: Preacher grabs his staff and smacks it over Mark's head. Now he's laying it across his throat, and he stomps on both ends! Mark Cheatham is grabbing his throat in pain! Tag back to Judge. Judge goes to the middle rope and flying elbowdrop lands nicely. Judge whips Cheatham to the turnbuckle...head of steam on Judge...and OUCH! Big boot right in the kisser. Cheatham takes the opportunity to tag Jim Dewey. Dewey comes in and blasts the Haliburton on Judge's head - I think that popped the blood capsule on the suitcase...I mean I think Judge is bleeding. The cover: 1...2...shoulder up. Jim Dewey with a piledriver on the 336 pound Judge! Cover: 1...2...Preacher makes the save. Judge tags out.
JTM: Preacher comes in now, and takes Dewey outside. What's he tryin' to do? Preacher slams Dewey's head into the Spanish announcer's table! He's now taking him up there...PILEDRIVER ON THE TABLE! The table snaps in half, and Preacher rolls Dewey in. I t'ink he's settin' up for...yes! The Deathwish! Preacher tags Judge and quickly applies the Boston Crab. Judge comes in and applies the Camel Clutch! Dewey submits! It's over! Well, the first match is over...
Bait: Well, you've done well, but I hope you're ready for the next match which starts now! Your arch-nemeses, the ones who stand for everything you abhor, yes...let me welcome Sir Gary Glutton and Friar Buck...the HEDONISTIC CRUSADERS!
[They take their time. Sir Gary is 650 lbs., with red metal armor, carrying a ham hock. He goes to the audience.]
Popcorn Vendor: Popcorn! Get your popcorn heeeeya!
AM: Gary Glutton is harassing the popcorn vendor! He's taking his popcorn and eating it right before the match! That can't be healthy.
Popcorn Vendor: You can't do this to me and get away with it! I was in 'Nam! You haven't heard the last of Colonel "Pops" Khorne!
[Friar "Buck" now enters, accompanied by his "valet," Gratuitous Tina. The bell rings.]
AM: Friar "Buck" starting out with a drained Preacher. The Friar extends his hand? The audience is screaming "no", and he tells them all to shut up - go figure. Preacher shakes his hand, and follows up with a headbutt! Preacher is resorting to dirty pool to keep those belts! Preacher with a vertical suplex, and tags Judge. Judge takes the oversized gavel and slams it into the monk's midsection, then runs into Sir Gary Glutton and gives HIM a bellyshot!
CT: I think he's trying to get them to feel queasy - both Crusaders stand for excess food, as well as gratuitous violence and pornography, all of which they call "virtues".
AM: Friar "Buck" wants to tag out, but Sir Gary clutches his stomach and refuses! Some heated words there, and Judge sunset flips "Buck"! The quick count: 1.2.and kickout. Friar "Buck" slaps Glutton's hand. Glutton comes in with a big-belly -to-belly suplex. Gary goes to the top rope, and a BIG SPLASH by Glutton! The count: 1...2...and Judge has a shoulder up. Tag to Preacher, who's caught a second wind. Glutton wants to tag out, and does so. "Buck" comes in with a spinning heel kick and lands it well. Preacher is down. But what's this? Sweet Candy Andy comes to ringside! He's talking to Gratuitous Tina, but I can't hear what they're saying. Tina smiles and walks off with Andy!
JTM: You go, boy! Chalk another one up for the Gallery! Sweet Candy Andy needed a woman, and there she is, and may I add, she's all that!
AM: No you may not. Anyway, "Buck" looks miffed, and he's yelling at Andy. Preacher takes the opportunity, and another sunset flip! 1...2...3! It's over! The final match awaits!
Bait: Your final match this evening - fresh from their stints in Casino Rama and Chuckles comedy club - they've earned their name once more as they've returned to their homeland in Nevada...please welcome, from the Entertainment Industry, the Vegas Connection!
[Lester Leary enters with his ruffle tuxedo and pompadour. Larry Lowbrow follows close behind in his leather jacket and jeans. Behind him are the magician Presto Cadabra with Janice, "Black" Jack Dealer, and finally, Rimshot wheels in.]
AM: This could become a superbrawl - just about everyone in this federation has a problem with either the Forces, or the Entertainment Industry. Interference is legal, so we'll just have to see what happens!
[The bell rings.]
AM: All six men in the ring, as the Industry is beating the already fatigued Forces to a pulp! But wait, Broadway Musical Man is entering the ring, he's heading straight for his arch-enemy Lester Leary! They're brawling outside the ring, and now it's just three on two! And now ThatGuy is coming! I guess he's still mad at Presto Cadabra for his appearance inside the cage at Supercard I. ThatGuy runs at Presto and slaps on the Hideous Finger Bite! Presto is screaming, but no one seems to care! Presto is now down a finger, and I think ThatGuy is going to start on another - he's crazy! The ref has lost control, but he can't stop the match. Bait and Switch now jump on the apron, and smack the Forces with their multimedia laptop PC briefcases! The ring has gained some sanity now, as Larry Lowbrow grabs Preacher and drags him to the top rope. He's calling for a mike?
Lester Leary: Stop me if you've heard this one before, folks. It's the Punchline!
CT: He picks up Preacher a bit higher than himself, in a belly-to-belly position, and MOONSAULTS, still holding Preacher, down to the concrete, where the padding was lifted away by Dealer. Preacher lands on his head and nobody will get up from that. They're both in the ring. The count:1...2...3! WE HAVE NEW CHAMPIONS!
Announcer Lad: Here are your winners, and NEEEEEEEW tag team champions, Lester Leary and Larry Lowbrow, the VEGAS CONNECTION!
[Mr. Paradox and Meat-Puppet hop the railing. Mr. Paradox pulls out his sword on Leary and Lowbrow.]
MP: You two have a simple choice. You can either lay down on the mat by choice. Or...we can do things the FUN way.
CT: How did he get a microphone?
AM: I don't know. This is starting to become a big concern. I don't know what's going on.
JTM: Naw, man! Fight back.
AM: They're laying down for these two invaders.
[Legendary referee Earl Hebner appears and makes the count. Thanks for making the trip back in time, Earl.]
Earl: Sure. It's not like I'm doing much else these days.
Booming Voice: YOUR WINNERS, AND NEW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, MR. PARADOX AND MEAT-PUPPET, NECROMANCY GO! MWAHAHAHAHA!
[Paradox and Meat-Puppet take their belts and head back to their front row seats to be congratulated by the rest of the BOBsters.]
AM: Umm... What a way to start off Monday Nae Trous! While we all recover from what we're seeing, I'll grab a quick word with ThatGuy. ThatGuy, this is the first we've seen of you in a while. One question is on everyone's minds. Are you still allied with Bohemoth and the Circus Freaks?
ThatGuy: Of course I am! They're the only ones who understand the true nature of the freak! We've all been rejected or shunned in one way or another, and now the Asylum Alliance is ready to take on the STWF in style! YOU'RE NOT SAFE! YOU'RE NOT SAFE!! YOU'RE NOT SAFE!!!
AM: Thank you ThatGuy. We'll take a short break and be right back with the debut of DISTRUCT.
Monday Nae Trous is brought to you by Fat Matt brand gigantic beef jerky sticks for the morbidly obese. Who you callin' "slim"?
Coming soon to the STWF...BILL! BILL! BILL!
BILL. Coming soon to the STWF/CSTLL.
Mexico Madness is just five weeks away! Here are some of the matches already signed!
"The Chinese Spic" Pedro Chang gets a shot at the ICCTINACBBIC belt as he takes on the New Olympian, Ben Matera!
Los Mexicanos Nondescriptos get their chance to reclaim the tag team belts as they face the Vegas Connection!
Pepe the Mexican Midget will take on the Stick in a retirement match!
and El Spheros WILL put his championship belt on the line as he takes on Sugarplum Harry in a MATCH ON ICE!
If you want to be a part of Mexico Madness, make your challenge now!
Booming Voice: WE'VE GOT A CHALLENGE. BRAWLERS ON A BUDGET HAS COME FROM 2006 TO PREVENT YOU FROM TAKING OVER OUR YEAR AND OUR COMPANY! WE KNOW WHAT YOU'RE UP TO, STWF. YOU MUST PAY FOR YOUR SINS.
AM: What sins?
Booming Voice: THAT IS ALL FOR NOW. END BOOM.
AM: Captain Twilight, what have you heard of BILL?
CT: Not much, and what I have heard is conflicting.
Announcer Lad: This contest is scheduled for one fall. Currently in the ring, from St. John's, Newfoundland, weighing 255 pounds, the RED SNAPPER!
[The Red Snapper is a man dressed in a lobster suit. It reeks of poorly thought out gimmick, considering red snappers are fish.]
AL: And his opponent, accompanied by Doctor Death, from Woodstock, Ontario, weighing 304 pounds, DISTRUCT!
[Distruct's own theme music, which can be found at http://www.execulink.com/~blj/heat.mid plays. The screen suddenly goes white with the following message:
The requested URL /~blj/heat.mid was not found on this server.
[We then return to the show. Distruct wears a blue and yellow singlet. On the front is a skull with a lightning bolt going through it. The bell rings.]
AM: I understand we're having technical difficulties. Please, fans, stick with us. The Red Snapper has his work cut out for him as he takes on the Rock from Woodstock. Hee hee - I just made that up!
JTM: No, honestly, did you just ask for Sweet Candy Andy to come out here and pimp slap you? Distruct calling for the ol' test-o'-strength, and the Snapper complies? He's sent crashing to the mat. Distruct picks him up by the neck and chokeslams him. The cover: 1...2...and Distruct backs off and picks him up. He applies a neckbreaker and goes for the cover again. 1...2...and backs off again! The ref warns Distruct.
CT: Now Distruct makes the cutthroat gesture and takes the Snapper to the high-rent district. What's he...PEARL RIVER PLUNGE OFF THE TOP ROPE! I've just been informed that his move is called the Doomsday. This is a squash victory. He's not pinning? Oh, I see. He goes for a Deathlock, and the Red Snapper wastes no time in submitting before he is cracked like the shellfish he is.
AL: Here is your winner...DISTRUCT!
AM: Impressive victory for Distruct, but I sure wish the match could have been longer. We have so much time to fill! I know...INTERVIEWS! Captain Twilight, do your show. NOW!
CT: Okay...(enters the ring) And now, it's time for my new segment, THE TWILIGHT ZONE! With me, Captain Twilight.
AM: I'm really starting to rethink this...
CT: Please welcome my first guests, the newest members of Mexico Unlimited, they are Bucho Mugralez, and Pedro Chang!
[Bucho enters first. He is an old Mexican man dressed like a Mariachi with a black and gold Sombrero. Pedro follows close behind. His flannel shirt now features the Mexican Flag on the back. He also wears a Mexico Unlimited tanktop T-shirt (only $19.95 order now!)]
CT: Now, gentlemen, what do you have to say regarding your entrance into Mexico Unlimited, as well as the upcoming Mexico Madness pay-per-view? (only $24.95 call your cable company NOW!)
Bucho Mugralez: Mehico Unlimited eez the moz' powerful force in the Consejo Stereotypicos de Lucha Libre. An' youknowwhat esse, we teach all who oppose us Mehican Judo: Ju doh know if I got a knife, Ju doh know if I got a gun, Ju doh know notting about me, esse, and that's the way we like it. Mehico Unlimited! Accept NO sobstitutions!
Pedro Chang: Hey Paco, Mehico Onlimited da Mos' Powerful group of Hombres todayas for that Punta Ben Matera. I wan' your title puerto, and at Mehico Madness in five weeks in sonny Tijuana, I weel have eet as Mehico Onlimited tries to ween all de belts.
Offscreen: Oh will you please shut your hole.
CT: Who said that?
[A man wearing black pants, an Ozzy Osbourne T-shirt, a leather jacket and black Army boots enters. A cigarette is dangling out of his mouth.]
DeRanged: Me, that's who. DeRanged.
AM: Oh my! DeRanged has finally made his way into the STWF/CSTLL! And it looks like he's already found someone to pick on!
DeRanged: Well, well, well, look what trash I get to see shoot his mouth off in the ring. Hey, Spic-boy, I hear you were trained by Bissell and his 1/64th of an inch penis. Says something about YOU, dunnit prickjob?
CT: Now listen here, this is my interview time, and...
DeRanged: Shut up, old man, before I Death Grip your wrinkled ass right here! Well, as the STWF should know, I've beaten Bissell a hundred million times, so why not come here and start beating on the "Next Generation" of suckless, no-talent, bad-gimmick S.O.B. Bissell-butt-buddies...
CT: Hey, my gimmick's not THAT bad...
DeRanged: So, Pedro Chang, the Chinese Dick, why don't you meet me, in the ring, next Monday, unless you are Chink enough to handle a buff giant like me. Probably gonna run away like Bissell now, right?
CT: Next week. Any enemy of Bissell's is an enemy of mine. Take on me, an' ju take on Mehico Onlimited! Thees ees KHWAR!
DeRanged: And learn how to speak properly, unless that's some impairment from sucking "little Bissell". You've just signed your death warrant, little man.
[DeRanged leaves. Pedro Chang takes the audience route out, along with Bucho. Now it's time to take over.]
[Death hops the rail as the popcorn vendor from before walks down the aisle.]
Death: Hello, STWF viewers of 1997. And....BOB viewers of 2006! Because we have taken over your event, starting right now. My name is Death, and I am the new owner of the STWF. That's right, we are making history in simulcasting this event in two different years! Now. As my first act, I would like to introduce you to the first man to leave the STWF for BOB. This is Colonel "Pops" Khorne!
CT: Well, Mr. Khorne, in the 30 seconds we have left, do you have anything to say?
Col. "Pops" Khorne: Yes, sir. Sir Gary Glutton - you don't know what you've gotten yourself into. Your big fat ass is mine! I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE! AIEEEEHAHAHAHA!
CT: Um....thank you.
Death: Oh, that's not it, old man. Say, you know what they say about old wrestlers, don't you. They don't die, they just lose their grip. BWAHAHAHA! But seriously, Moses was asking about you just the other day. He says hello. Hey, Korne, put this BOB shirt on and hit the bricks. See you next week, I guess.
CT: What is the meaning of this?
Death: Twilight, I'd tell you to act your own age, but if I did, you'd die! BWAHAHAHA! I mean, hell, your social security number is 1. When you went to school, there wasn't any history class. You ran track with the dinosaurs. Your birth certificate has Roman numerals on it.
CT: I think they get it.
Death: As of next week, you are going to be seeing some big changes to MY federation. You are going to meet BOB's commander-in-chief. You will meet the new man running things. You will meet your new ring announcers. That's right, it's going to be sweeping changes for this federation. It's time to get out of the '90s and move into the '00s. As my second act, Angus, Jamal and you are all fired. You may leave. Turn in your headsets before you leave.
[Angus and Jamal leave the announce table, appearing to be in shock. Twilight hands over the microphone and walks out of the ring. The rest of the BOB crew hops the rail (except for Unit 5) and get in the ring.]
Death: Now, a few introductions are in order. First of all, this woman is The Bride. She is a woman on a path or destruction. And BILL. Well, you're in deep trouble when you get here next week. Her whole mission in life is to kill you for what you did to her in 2004.
Death: Next. This man here in the bloodstained surgeon gear, the bald fellow with the bear-trap teeth. You will know him as Dr. Thrilla.
Death: The man over there is a man who has been to Heaven, but was thrown out due to his doobie habit. This is Kurt Angel!
Death: The zombie fellow over there does the bidding of his master to the best of his limited ability. This is half of your tag team champions, Meat-Puppet.
Death: The fellow in the trenchcoat with the sword. The other half of your tag team champions, Mr. Paradox.
Death: Up next, the biggest thing to happen to rap-wrestling ever, Pete X-Factor Trable.
Death: The blue lady there with the purple hair, that is Queen Mylisiv.
Death: Next. A BOB legend-in-the-making, a former champion, and definitely a future champion here on Monday Nae Trous, this is Sir Zeno!
Death: Next, out in the audience in the front row, a washing machine that is a role model for all of mankind, Unit 5!
Unit 5: *Rumble rumble rumble*
Death: Up next, the biggest and tallest wrestler alive today. This is the Wig Show!
Death: Andthat'sSnapmareKidUrineandXXXtremeMachine. But since this is only a pilot to see if Comedy Central will greenlight this show, we'll save the good stuff for next week.
Death: El Spheros, well, your days as Heavyweight champion are numbered. Because you are looking at the Death there is, the Death there was and the Death there ever will be. Ben Matera? Your reign as the Intercontinental Cruiserweight "This is not a championship belt but it's close" belt is almost over.
[Kurt Angel grabs the mic.]
KA: That's right. Because you're looking at the next Heavyweight Champion, Kurt Freakin' Angel!
[Death grabs the mic back.]
Death: Uhhh, no.
[Kurt grabs the mic.]
KA: What are you gonna do, kill me? Heaven doesn't want me and Sunday Morning Chloroform was afraid I'd take over. Which is why I'm now on a different brand. The Monday Nae Trous brand.
[Trable grabs the mic.]
PT: Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo YO yo yo YO yO Yo YOOOO! THE X-FACTOR IS HEEEEEEEEEERE!
[Death grabs the mic.]
Death: Thanks for nothing, as usual, Trable.
[Trable grabs the mic back.]
PT: Kill that noise, dead homey talking
Or I'll make sure you have some trouble walking
When I cram that scythe up your bony ass
I'll smoke you like your name was grass
So if you want some
Come get some
You don't like me
This is how we do
I'm AUDI — 5000!
Booming Voice: PARDON ME, MORTALS.
Death: Yes, Detached Narrator?
Booming Voice: I COULDN'T HELP BUT NOTICE THAT THERE IS SOME CONTROVERSY SURROUNDING THE MONDAY NAE TROUS HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE. WELL, LET ME NOT CLEAR ANY OF IT UP RIGHT NOW. THAT IS ALL.
PT: Damn! That was cold!
Death: Fo shizzle.
Unit 5: *Rumble rumble rumble*
Death: Calm down, Unit 5. This doesn't concern you. Look, I have no idea how to end this show.
Sir Zeno: The three of you are no match for me. And you all know it. Death, you had a shot to win the title and failed. Trable? You're a joke. And Angel? Well, I propose that you and I battle it out for that belt.
KA: But aren't you a heel?
SZ: What's your point?
KA: I'm trying to be a heel, darnitall!
[The Bride gets behind Angel and locks in the Bride-Mission! Death tries to clothesline Zeno, but, him being so slow, Zeno easily ducks and begins pounding away on Death. All heck breaks loose and the invading BOB troops all turn on each other and begin brawling. *Sigh* What a focused crew. We're supposed to be taking over the company, and they can't get along for one hour? XXXtreme grabs something from under the ring. Crap! I need announcers. That's a pry bar! What the? He hits Urine in the back! And Snapmare Kid in the stomach. He smacks The Bride in the back. And there's a shot for the downed Kurt Angel. XXXtreme Machine is hitting everybody! What the hell is going on here? OK. This is definitely bizarro world we're in, this 1997. Because XXXtreme Machine is the last man standing. Him and Nic Flare are still standing...yeah, yeah, yeah! Oh, NO! He has a microphone? Some chick wearing practically nothing slides into the ring.]
XM: dam ist hot in her. U no wht tat is. Tats me. cuz xxxtreme machi3e is on fyr!!! and unlick u jobles peces of jobless sith, Im hardkor!!! Me n my xxxtreme pribar and nik flar n my btich marsha r guna rul mundae nite ro!!! N whats guna hapin wil b cn by evry1 n teh wrld!! t3h hol wokrd wil c me beet evry1s ass n swtf and boob!!! Cuz I m xxxtreme fucders!!!! N I m tat dam xxxtreme!!!1!
[XXXtreme Machine drops the mic, fingers Marsha, and leaves with Nic Flare to two huge pops. The FUCK? We're out of time.]
© 2006 BOB Wrestling. Our pilot (writer) is drunk!