CLICK HERE FOR MEGABRAWL II PART 1
[Sam, Sam The Dancing Yam is standing backstage with Mike "The Monotone" Monroe ready to do that cheesy “Who in the blue hell are you?” Interview.]
Mike Monroe: Good evening to all five of the people watching this show. Yes, the five people that actually keep us going. I have with me here BOB’s newest signing Sam, Sam The Dancing Yam…
[Sam grabs the mike.]
SSTDY: Good evening residents of outside the Yam Field, just out of New Jersey. I am Sam, Sam The Dancing Yam. I am here to do two things – ONE, represent Yams everywhere in their fight against the oppressors, the human race, a fight for recognition as being capable of abstract thought and everything else that makes us individuals in the eyes of the law. In short we want recognition as “Human Beings” And SECONDLY, to dance like a maniac at every possible convenience.
MM: I was wondering what the disc player was here for. But why have you brought along Kay Fabe?
[The hand held camera zooms out badly to show Kay Fabe standing beside Sam.]
SSTDY: Well, Mr. Ask No Questions Tell No Lies, she is here because I love Lesbians, and ‘cause I wanted a boogie buddy and she offered.
MM: So basically you're not here to wrestle at all?
SSTDY: Wrestling? Who said anything about wrestling?
[Mike shows Sam a copy of the standard BOB Napkin Contract and points out a couple of articles. Sam looks in amazement as Mike points out the clauses.]
MM: There… There… There… And there.
[Sam falls to his knees.]
[Mike and Kay put their fingers in their ears. After a few moments Sam gets back to his feet and dust’s himself off.]
SSTDY: Ah, well. It could be worse I guess, I could be in the company of a person eating panda, a guy with Studnuts for a last name, and a zombie…
[He notices the suspicious look on Mike’s face stopping in mid sentence. After a few moments of pondering…]
SSTDY: Ah, what the hell. As far as this mutant Yam is concerned IT’S PARTY TIME!
[He presses play on the Discman and he, Kay Fabe and eventually Mike start dancing to MC Hammer’s Immortal tune – Can’t Touch This before eventually heading back to the ring.]
SW: Oh baby! I love watching Kay dance.
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is the first ever "Falls Count Anywhere 'Anywhere Is' Is Playing" match!
SW: Before, I'd be heading to the bathroom with a copy of Penthouse for the duration of this match. But ever since Viruz showed some balls and jaw jacked his bro... I've found myself pulling for the bastard.
Styles: One of those "lesser of two evils" circumstances, eh?
SW: Hey, if the guy can rid me of the sight of Axl, I'll be his number one fan. Which probably isn't saying much...
[The screen fills with rapidly changing, lime green numbers, as the sounds of a whirring computer is heard. Suddenly, a blast of pyro rocks the stage, and "Twisted Transistor" by Korn begins to play. Viruz emerges from the curtains, wearing a pair of black silk pants, and a Hayabusa mask, which is jet black instead of its customary lime green. A few of the fans in the outdoor Sin City Stadium are actually chanting Vi's name.]
Styles: As Scotty said, if Viruz can send Axl packing tonight, he may find himself becoming one of the crowd's favorites for that fact alone. Couple that with the fact that he's one of the few men in BOB that can actually, you know, WRESTLE, he may stand a shot at stardom.
SW: He'll have to get past 'Mr. Grungey Gothic Hair Metalist -insert next gimmick here-' if he wants to keep his job heading into 2009. But face it, Axl has the wrestling ability of a wash rag, while Viruz can actually go in the ring. There's no chance Axl's going to make it out of this match with his job! ... You think Viruz could use an extra man at ringside though, just in case?
Styles: Scotty, he's already being accompanied by Axl and Viruz's father, Judas Van Halen.
SW: Well, I'm sure he could use an extra "insurance policy"... Besides, if this IS Axl's last match, I've just gotta get a few boots into him for injuring me earlier in the year.
Styles: Yeah, but if I recall correctly, you were popping those Vicodin pills like they were candy...
SW: Mmm... Vicodin. ... You know, on second thought, maybe Axl's not all that bad... I can't believe I just said that! RIP OUT HIS FUCKIN' THROAT, VIRUZ!
NH: Introducing first, hailing from Sillicon Valley... He made his Brawlers on a Budget debut one year ago, at the first edition of MegaBrawl. He is the younger of the two Hierarchy brothers, and is the master of the Fatal Error. This... is... VIRUZ!
Styles: Viruz steps into the ring, as a healthy amount of fans cheer him on. And -
[Suddenly, the lights cut out... The screen begins to play a video. It begins with the image of a wooden rocking chair, in the middle of a wooden room. The chair rocks slowly at first, and as it does, a whispering voice seeps through the speakers...]
Voice: For two years... Two years have I allowed people to walk all over me. Two years... Two... Long... Years. I've let people far less talented than me achieve greatness in my 'stead... For two long years, I've waited... and watched... while others claim immortality. For two... long... years, have I been told that I shouldn't... that I wouldn't... that I couldn't.... When I know?
Voice: I can.
Voice: For I AM.
Voice: It's time for a change.
Voice: You people KNOW I'm the only thing you come to see at every BOB event...
Voice: The only thing that keeps you coming back for more...
Voice: You people know...
Voice: I AM... the best there is.
SW: He thinks he's Bret Hart?
Styles: Settle down, Scotty...
Voice: I AM... the saving grace of this poor, pathetic company.
Voice: I AM... the God of Gods, the Man amongst Boys... The King of Kings.
SW: Now he thinks he's Triple H! Doesn't he know that spot's reserved for Trey?!
Styles: Well, Trey left...
SW: Oh yeah, I forgot. Screw Trey! That spot's reserved for... Seth?
Styles: That'll work.
Voice: I am everything a true superstar SHOULD be... but in this company? Isn't. I am the former Metal God... the former Gothic Lord... but forever WILL be...
Voice: And soon... very soon... you people shall come to realize, whether you wish to accept it or not... that I am the only thing that can bring BOB to the pinnacle of greatness in proffesional sports entertainment. The only thing that can save BOB from its doom.
SW: This guy seems even more long winded now than he does in his own rants!
Styles: Maybe it's because this will be the only talking he'll be able to do prior to his match.
SW: He better hurry up so he can take his ass kicking like a man! An incredibly lame, homosexual man who spends hours and hours talking people's ears off, but a man nonetheless!
Voice: I am Axl...
Voice: And I am... your SAVIOR.
[The wooden rocking chair quickly begins to rock back and forth faster and faster, until it becomes nothing more than a blur.]
[And then the screen goes to static. "You Know You're Right" by Nirvana play, and as soon as Axl steps through the curtains, the audience showers down boos, jeers, catcalls, and every other synonym for their dissaproval. For some reason, Axl is once again wearing his king's robe and crown... along with a pair of torn jeans, sandles, and a black t-shirt with the words "I AM" scrawled across the front.]
Styles: Hm... something's off.
SW: What? The fact that Axl's still trying to pass himself off as a "king"? Seriously, this guy is so full of himself there's probably little room for all the bullshit he's filled with as well!
Styles: I'm not talking about the crown or robe. What I'm talking about is that, while Judas is standing outside of the ring in Viruz's corner, it seems as though the Hierarchy Bros.' mother, Sue Bastian Bach, is nowhere to be found.
SW: Ha! It seems like even Axl's own mom can't stand to be anywhere near him. It would probably ruin her cred with the quilting club or whatever the devil moms are into nowadays.
Styles: Wait a minute... hold the damn phone! That's not Axl!
SW: What gave you that idea?
Styles: When's the last time you saw Axl take his face off?
SW: You mean "face" as in make-up? Because he's probably done that several times...
Styles: No, I mean face as in MASK! That's nothing more than an Axl mask! Viruz is standing beside the ropes, staring out at "Axl", who removes the mask... to reveal that it's actually Sue - Vi and Axl's mother!
[Sue pulls the crown from the top of her head, and flings it... as her long blonde hair falls to the sides. Sue removes the robe, and as it falls to the ground, a black bat rolls out. Sue lifts the bat and points it toward the ring.]
Viruz: What in the...
[Viruz turns around...]
Styles: Axl with the bat shot, straight to Viruz's cranium! Viruz drops to the mat, and Axl is standing tall over his brother.
SW: Dammit! Axl with the first shot! You know he had to cheat to get any offense in... Dammit Vi, get your ass up and delete Axl from BOB's registry!
Styles: Wow, a techie reference from Scotty. I never knew you were a closet nerd!
SW: Aw shaddap.
[Sue walks down to the ring, and stands beside the apron... with Judas standing on the opposite side of the squared-circle. Heidi leaves the ring, Vicky Jean signals for the bell, and the match is underway.]
Styles: Axl is absolutely taking it to his brother with that black baseball bat, and shows no sign of letting up. Axl sends shot after shot to Viruz's sides and, causing Vi to roll around in pain from every blow. Axl raises the bat high into the air, and brings it down full force... but Vi somehow manages to reach out and clutch the bat as it comes speeding toward his head! Vi uses the bat to pull himself up to his feet... and with Vi grabbing one end of the bat, Axl still gripping the other, Viruz pulls Axl in... and BLASTS him with a clothesline, sending BOB's self-proclaimed "Savior" spinning in the air before crashing down to the mat.
SW: Yes! Now we're talkin'! Axl is layed out cold on the canvas, and Viruz has the bat! Hit him between the legs, Vi! Do it for your favorite commentator!
Styles: Oh, he doesn't have to do anything for me.
SW: Not you, ya big dummy! I meant ME!
Styles: Oh... phhff, haha, that's a good one! Vi backs up a bit, and crouches down, waving for the fallen Axl to stand. Axl slowly gets up, using the rope for assistance... He gets up and turns toward Viruz -
Styles: OH MY GYAAAD!
SW: YES! Simply BRUTAL bat shot to Axl, exploding the damn thing into bits and pieces of wood! The ring is a sea of splinters, and I'm lovin' it!
Styles: Viruz drops the broken bat handle, before running toward the ropes... He comes off, runs toward Axl, and leaps into the air, coming down hard with the senton to a prone Axl. Axl shakes violently from the impact, and rolls out under the bottom rope, splatting against the outside pavement.
[Viruz leaps ontop of a post, and cups his mouth, letting out a "WHOOO!". Vi's following is slowly beginning to grow as he continues to lay into Axl.]
Styles: Hold on! It's Tifa's Witherspoon, Axl's agent! After a long time away from being associated with him, Tifa has returned to Axl's side, to try and help Axl become a top prospect in the world of wrestling. And what's that Tifa has with her?
SW: It's an iPod! Nice, I should start bringing one of those to events. It'd give me something to do when an Axl match comes on. Of course, if my man Vi takes care of business tonight, we won't have to worry about that anymore!
Styles: In Axl's latest promo, Tifa gave him an idea.
SW: To forfeit the match?
Styles: ... No.
Styles: To use an infinite looping of the song "Anywhere Is" by Enya for this match, streaming through Axl's headphones, so that Axl would be able to hear the song no matter where he went.
SW: But... But that's cheating!
Styles: You're not usually the one to cry foul on a cheater.
SW: When Axl's the cheater? I'll be the FIRST to cry foul, trust me...
Styles: Regardless, Tifa has brought the iPod down to the ring, and has handed it to her client. Axl stuffs the headphones into his ears, and shoves the player into his pocket. Meanwhile, inside the ring, Viruz is running the ropes once again... Vi rebounds off the far side, before leaping over the top rope near Axl with a somersault. But, as soon as Viruz catapults himself toward his brother, Axl leaps up and catches Vi with a dropkick in mid-air, sending Vi falling against the cement, flat on his back.
SW: Aw man! How did Axl learn a real wrestling move?! That's... that's cheating! Somehow, I KNOW that's cheating!
Styles: Calm down, Scotty. This time Axl didn't cheat, but I'm sure he'll have plenty more opportunities to do so before this contest comes to a conclusion. Anyway, Axl mounts Viruz and begins driving his right and left fists into Vi's mush. Judas tries to walk toward his two sons, possibly to interfere on his younger son's behalf... but both Sue and Tifa stand in his way. And while I'm sure Judas would have no problem in shoving Tifa to the side, he has too much respect for his wife to lay a finger on her.
SW: Hell, he probably doesn't lay a finger on her when they're in bed either, but I'm sure that doesn't have anything to do with respect!
Styles: You're a laugh riot, you know that?
SW: Hey, it comes natural to me. Just like Axl when it comes to looking at other men's schlongs in the bathroom! Hahahaha, I'm a comedic GENIUS, I tells ya!
Styles: Axl continues to crush Vi's face under his knuckles, before finally sending one last fist to the face... which Viruz blocks with his hands!
SW: See, Vi is so much smarter than his bro. If Axl were in that position, he would've blocked that fist alright. With his HEAD! He'd have a bloody nose right now, but Viruz? Viruz has something his brother doesn't.
Styles: Wrestling skill? A sense of humor? The ability to keep himself from wrecking everything in his home, including the kitchen sink?
SW: Uh... I was gonna say a BRAIN, but those too.
Styles: With the punch blocked, Viruz returns the series of rights with a right of his own, directly to Axl's nose. Axl holds his nose... as a tiny drop of blood begins to trickle down.
SW: See? What'd I tell ya. I'm tellin' ya, I'm right every time.
Styles: Every time?
Styles: What about that time you said you could drink fifty screwdrivers in a row, without vomiting?
SW: Uh... can't remember. What happened?
Styles: You vomited.
SW: Ohhh, yeah! Now I remember! And it was on you! And it was a nice new suit you had just bought with the only pay check you had gotten all year! And you were never able to remove the stain! And you were forced to toss the suit in the garbage! And it was the greatest mean, nasty, downright despicable thing I've ever done to you and laughed about it afterward EVER!
Styles: Well, anyway -
Styles: ... ANYWAY. Axl grabs ahold of his nose, as Vi shoves his brother off. Viruz stands to his feet, and takes a few steps back... Axl finally lets go of his nose... just as Vi comes in with a superkick, to the nose, which sends Axl reeling backward. Axl's back slams into the apron, and the former Metal God drops to his ass, his nose now a bloody mess.
SW: This is great! I just know that Viruz is going to mutilate Axl tonight... and then humiliate him... and then pin his queer ass and send him right outta BOB! GO VIRUZ!
Styles: I never thought you'd be cheering for a member of the Hierarchy.
SW: Oh Mikey, get with the times. The Hierarchy's dead. There's only Viruz and Axl now, and I'm on the side of the former. ANYTHING beats Axl, and hopefully tonight, Viruz will be that anything.
Styles: Viruz backs up again, before rushing forward... As Vi closes in on Axl and the side of the ring, he presses the palms of his hands down on the apron... lifting himself up into a handstand above his brother... before dropping back down and hitting a devastating double boot to the face of Axl. Axl drops to the side, holding his head in his hands. Viruz leaps onto the apron in one swift motion... Axl reaches up and grabs onto the apron next to Vi's foot... Axl eventually stands, and grabs onto Vi's foot, but Vi shoves Axl off with his boot... Viruz springboards off the middle rope, turns around in mid-air and flies toward Axl... and as Vi comes down, he wraps his legs around Axl's head, before snapping off a lightning fast hurricanrana!
SW: There's no question, Viruz is FAR superior to Axl in the ring. And with moves like that? Axl might as well forget about the match and start thinking about what he's going to do from now on to earn a living!
Styles: Taking into account that BOB barely pays, WHEN it pays that is... I'd say it's a safe bet that Axl has got to have a day job.
SW: Yeah, I'm sure somewhere in Sinister City there's a pimphand with Axl's name on it. Of course, I don't know why anyone would pay for a baby carrot dick...
Styles: Alright Scotty, that's enough. Back to the match at hand. Viruz is reaching below the ring... and he pulls out a laptop! Vi lifts the computer up, and runs toward Axl, going for what could very well be the killing blow. But as Vi reaches just a few inches away from Axl, the so-called "Savior" nails a drop toe hold, sending Vi careening forward, and sandwiching the laptop between the steel barricade and Vi's face!
SW: Viruz is going to be so pissed! Nothing's more precious to him than a good laptop. And I can't say I blame him. A laptop with internet access is even better than a copy of Penthouse!
Styles: I don't think Viruz is as worried about the damage to the laptop as he is about the damage to himself... Viruz rolls around in agony, his head hurting now just as much as Axl's was earlier. Axl begins to put the boots to Vi, before heading over to the ring... Axl reaches under the ring, and pulls out... a kendo stick!
SW: Or is it a singapore cane? Or maybe it's a Shinai? Who knows.
Styles: Axl walks over to the prone body of Viruz, holding the stick in his right hand. Axl uses his left hand to pull Vi up by his mask... before bringing the kendo stick down across Vi's naked back!
SW: Don't say the word 'naked', you might give Axl weird ideas!
Styles: Vi drops to a knee, and Axl follows up the first shot with another, sending Vi back to the ground. Axl wallops his brother with shot after shot, before twirling the stick a little, and hopping around like a pro boxer.
SW: He's a regular Sugar GAY Leonard! ... HAHAHA, man, I AM a laugh riot!
Styles: Axl motions for Vi to stand back up... Axl could be looking to return the wicked bat shot he felt earlier at the hands of Viruz... Vi finally makes it up, and turns around... Axl goes to swing the kendo stick, and...
SW: Hell yes! Judas snatched the kendo stick, singapore cane, whatEVER, from Axl, and just snapped it in half across his knee! Judas tosses the two halves aside, and man, Axl is in DEEP now!
Styles: You've got that right. Axl's own father is stomping in his direction, and is pulling his sleeves up, looking to cause some major damage. Axl backs out, and climbs over the fan barricade, into a mass of people who could very well want Axl out of the company even more than Viruz does. Axl stares at one fan, and actually flips the guy off! Axl has got some nerve.
SW: If I were that dude, I'd go ahead and bitch slap Axl. I really don't think the security force would give two shits. Not that they normally do anyway...
Styles: Axl reels back a hand, as if he's going to slap the fan... When from out of nowhere, Viruz grabs the hand and spins Axl around! Vi boots Axl in the gut, and plants Axl into the cement with a DDT. Viruz... He's pulling the headphones out of Axl's ears! Vi just inserted the phones into his own ears, and he's pinning Axl!
SW: BRILLIANT! ... Sorry, Steve Leary moment there.
Styles: Vicky Jean clamors out of the ring and tries to make it near the pinning predicament in time, but as soon as she makes it, Axl has kicked out.
SW: DAMMIT! Vicky's just as incompetent as that damn Generic Referee! But, at least with this bimbo I've got something to look at while she screws up. She sure fills out that referee's shirt out nice, if you catch my drift.
Styles: Yeah, I think I do.
SW: She can ring MY bell, if you know what I mean!
Styles: Well, she's not a timekeeper, but I know what you mean...
SW: She could introduce my "entrance" any day!
Styles: ... WOULD YOU PAY ATTENTION TO THE DAMN MATCH?!
Styles: Thank God. Anyway, Axl rips the headphones out of Vi's ears, and shoves him away. Axl pushes the phones back into his ears... but as soon as he's back to a vertical base, Viruz is right there, sending karate blows to the chest, arms, and head of Axl. Vi sends one last strike at Axl's gut, which doubles him over. Vi then hooks Axl by the arms... and Viruz is screaming for the fan that Axl flipped off earlier to take a swing of his own!
SW: Alright! So cool! I wish I were that fan... lucky bastard.
Styles: The fan obliges Viruz, as he gives Axl the very backhand slap that Axl threatened to dish out earlier on. Axl's head snaps to the right from the hit, Axl coughing up blood, as his previously busted open nose begins to pour out even more. Viruz tosses Axl to the ground. Vi asks the same fan for his steel chair, and the fan once again obliges... Vi lifts the chair above his head, before bringing it back down, crushing Axl's ribs. Vi then rests the chair over Axl's head... Viruz walks up the bleachers where the fans are seated... The "l33t Hax0r" turns around, and takes off in a sprint down the flight of bleachers, before hopping onto a rail near Axl, and taking off in a leap of faith...
SW: NO! Dammit, every friggin' time!
Styles: Viruz just crashed and burned! Viruz leaped from the rail, looking to land on Axl's head, which WAS wedged between the chair and the concrete floor... but as soon as Viruz was in the air, Axl nipped up in one fluid motion, grabbing the chair, and flinging it at Vi's head! The chair smacked Vi right in the face, sending him spiraling down... and landing stomach first on the steel rail!
SW: That had to hurt! I hope he's OK...
Styles: Wow, you're actually worried about someone besides yourself for once?
SW: No, not really... But if Viruz is severly injured, that means he might not win! And that would mean I'd have to continue watching that moron, Axl! Dammit Vi, you HAVE to pick yourself up! Do it for ME!
Styles: Why would he do it for you?
SW: Uhhh... do it for the children?
Styles: *rolls eyes* Annnyway, Axl is slowly crawling through the fans... he climbs over the steel barricade, back to ringside. Axl slides into the ring, and is lying on the canvas, gasping for breath. Viruz seems to be knocked out in the audience...
SW: Oh MAN... I was more than willing to bet when this match kicked off that Axl would be finished off in a matter of seconds... But this is... Viruz just HAS to win! HE HAS TO!
Styles: You really want Axl gone, huh?
SW: There's that... and there's the fact that... well, I DID bet... Twenty bucks and my Halloween edition of Penthouse! And if Axl wins, I'll be in debt to Steve Studnuts... I just can't part with my horny lesbian witches!
Styles: I'm sure you'll get over it.
SW: No! I won't! ... Well, at least, not until Christmas. Mmm... horny lesbian elves! Rowwrrr!
Styles: You're one sick puppy, Scotty. Viruz, though, is starting to stir. He eventually pulls himself back up, thanks to the steel rail. Vi uses it to walk back toward the barricade... and as he walks, the fans pat him on the back. That's something Viruz is most certainly not used to, ever since he's been associated with his brother and the Hierarchy.
SW: Quite a contrast to Axl's reception from the fans...
Styles: Vi finally makes it down to the barricade... he crawls across... and as he makes it over the steel fan guard, he flops down onto the concrete, clutching his stomach. A few fans reach down and pat Viruz on the arm, willing him on into the ring. Vi pulls himself together, sucks it up, and stands up... he walks toward the ring, still grabbing at his gut. Vi rolls into the ring under the bottom rope, but just as he does, Axl jumps into the air, and comes down with a huge splash, instantly knocking out every ounce of breath Viruz managed to suck in. Axl quickly goes for the pin, with his iPod headphones still playing "Anywhere Is"... Vicky lowers to make the count ; One... Two... and - No!
SW: Yes! Viruz kicked out! Suck on THAT, Axl Rotten Eggs! HA, I got a million of 'em!
Styles: Axl reaches down to pick up Viruz... but gets speared instead! Vi gores Axl from a crouching position, sending both brothers stumbling to the outside! On the outside, Axl and Vi roll around, trading fists... Viruz removes himself from his brother, and grabs the ring bell... As Axl slowly stands back up, Viruz goes to take a swing with the bell... but Axl ducks underneath. Viruz turns around, right into a Shot in the Dark superkick! ... Which is AVOIDED! Viruz rolls under the kick, before using his own leg to sidesweep Axl, sending him crashing to the floor, backfirst. Viruz grabs Axl by the hair, drags him over to our table, and... He's just draped Axl over the top of our desk!
Viruz: Hey, Scotty.
SW: Hey, Viruz. Man, I'm really admiring your work so far. You're doing an awesome job of kicking Axl's ass from here to Topeka. Keep it up.
Viruz: You wanna lend me a hand?
[Viruz pulls Axl off the desk by his hair, and hooks him by the arms...]
Viruz: I want you to take your chair, and blast this motherfucker in the face.
SW: ... Seriously?
Viruz: Yep. After all, no one's displayed quite the same amount of distaste for the asshole as you have. You deserve a good shot into his skull. You know, before he get's shipped off to HHHW.
SW: Yes! It's official, you're my new favorite wrestler!
Styles: What about Sarah? And Studnuts? And Seth, and Death?
SW: Uhh, OK, make that my FIFTH favorite.
SW: But a STRONG fifth!
Viruz: Oh. Meh, just take a swing.
SW: You don't have to ask ME twice!
Viruz: I already did...
SW: Er... nevermind.
[Scotty stands up, grabs his chair, and walks over to Axl, still being held at the arms by Viruz. Scotty pounds the steel upon the concrete... rears back... and SMASHES the chair into Axl's face. He does so with so much force that it causes Axl's mouth and nose to spew forth blood like lava from the mouth of an active volcano. Axl falls to his knees, his face a crimson kaleidescope of blood... Scotty high fives Viruz, before returning his chair to its spot behind the desk. Scotty sits back down, and pulls his headset back on.]
SW: WHOOHOO! Now THAT was fun! Did you see Axl's face explode?! It was like a friggin' palmegranate in the hands of Mr. Fantastic! It was GREAT!
Styles: It doesn't look good for the most hated man in Brawlers on a Budget. Viruz slaps Axl's across the face, sending blood flying... Viruz hooks Axl in a front chancery, lifting him up... Vi knees Axl in the gut, while he's still held in the front chancery. Vi then raises Axl over head in vertical suplex position... before dropping Axl forward, with a sit-out move, which appears to be a variation of the Michinoku Driver.
SW: He calls that the "300 Giga Bytes of ASS WHOOP"!
Styles: ... Are you sure he calls it that?
SW: Hey, he just got through letting me smack the taste out of Axl's mouth. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I name one or two of his moves. Or three...
Styles: Next, you'll probably be asking to be his manager.
Scotty: Hey, the guy NEEDS a manager like me! Especially if he's willing to give me fifty percent of his earnings...
Styles: Ugh... Axl desperately tries to stop the blood gushing from his nose and mouth, with the cement pavement beside his face covered in a pool of the red stuff. Viruz reaches back below the ring... and ends up pulling out a table! Vi sets the table up right beside our desk. Vi then pulls out another table, and props this one up, with the legs of one end standing atop the first table, and the other set of legs standing atop our desk! What in the hell is Viruz looking to do here?!
SW: Whatever it is, I hope it cripples that jack off, Axl, like he crippled me! And I hope he can't get a prescription for Vicodin! Damn... hippie.
Styles: ... Hippie?
SW: Oh yeah, I WENT there!
Styles: ... Anyway. Vi slides into the ring, and begins to ascend to the top turnbuckle just as Axl returns to a standing position. Vi points to Axl, before slowly dragging his thumb across his throat, signaling the oncoming demise of his brother. Axl quickly hops up onto the apron, before then leaping onto the turnbuckle right in front of Vi... Axl and Vi begin to trade rights and lefts...
Axl: Hey bro, I'll give you this right handed rookie card for your limited edition leftie!
Viruz: ... What right handed rookie card?
Axl: This'n... right... CH'ERE!
Styles: Axl does a crotch chop, before hooking his arms around Vi's head. He flies off the post, toward the stack of tables, with Viruz still locked up in his grip. And... SINISTER SLICE! Sinister Slice through not one, not two, but THREE tables, including our announce desk!
Styles: You're upset about Axl getting the upperhand again?
SW: No! That dick smashed Viruz through our desk, and now my beer's all over the damn floor! I'll never get that beer back!
Styles: Judging from the looks of your beer belly, I'm sure you've had one too many as it is...
SW: Aw, you wouldn't know. Your idea of a hard drink is a glass of water with no ice!
Styles: I'll have you know I don't use ice in ANY of my drinks!
Fans: HE'S HARDCORE! HE'S HARDCORE!
SW: These fans remind me of TNA fans. Those iMPACT Zone wankers could watch Samoa Joe picking his nose in the middle of the ring and start chanting "THIS IS AWESOME!". It's pathetic, if you ask me.
Styles: Which I'm not. And on that note, Viruz is laying near unconciousness right at our feet, with Axl just now making back it up. Axl gloats a bit, soaking in the hatred of these fans.
SW: And trust me, that's ALOT to soak in. He must be positively drowning. And if he is, I wish he'd hurry up and drown already, because I'm sick of looking at the prick!
Styles: In any case, Axl has now rolled into the ring, and is catching his breath. After a few moments of delay, Viruz finally reaches his feet, and makes his way to the ring... staggering still from the collosal collision through the heap of wood and metal. Viruz stumbles, but uses the apron to catch himself. Axl walks toward the side of the ring beside Vi... Axl reaches down to grab Viruz by his hair...
Styles: OH, what a shot! Viruz just broke an electric guitar over the skull of Axl!
SW: It looks like Viruz is trying to help his brother remember his glory years in a hair metal band.
Styles: Glory? WHAT glory?
SW: For Axl atleast. I mean, come on. Fags flock to those glitter-wearing, prettied up hair metal "rockers" like flies to shit! Which, ironically, is exactly what Axl reminds me of every time he steps into a ring!
Styles: Pieces of plastic have littered the ringside area, along with shards of everything else that musical weapon of mass destruction was made from. Axl lies upon the canvas, face a mess of blood, as Vi slides into the ring.
[Before Viruz can follow up on the guitar shot, the brothers' mom charges into the ring, quickly putting herself in front of her oldest son.]
Styles: Sue is standing before her second born child, begging him not to lay another hand upon Axl. Viruz seems to be -
SW: OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE, HIT THE BITCH! Viruz, don't fail me now! You can't let that stupid whore keep you from ridding me... I mean, BOB, of that cum wad!
Styles: Scotty, Viruz has too much respect for his mother to do something like that. Believe me, not everyone is as self-centered as you. Some of us actually care about people besides ourselves.
SW: Oh, don't you give me any of that horse shit! Seriously, if that was MY mom in there, and she was standing in the way of me booting a pile of manure like Axl to the curb? Honestly, I'd jack slap her, and tell the bitch tah hit the bricks!
Styles: You're so thoughtless, Scotty. Especially during the holidays!
SW: Hey, it's the season for giving! Who better to give to than me? And nothin' would be finer a present than seeing Axl get his ass kicked seven ways to China, and then FIRED! Ah... what a wonderful life it's going to be without that dipshit around.
Styles: The match isn't over with quite yet. But right now, Sue is trying her damndest to see that it doesn't continue. Viruz stares into his mother's eyes, as she pleads with her son to put an end to the beating he's laying down on Axl. Meanwhile, Axl is finally starting to stir after that vile strike from the guitar... Axl stands, limply, and Sue turns around to console her other son. Axl's mother takes him in her arms...
Styles: OH MY GOD!
SW: YES! THANK YOU SUE! Dude, I nominate that woman for mother of the year! I take back all those nasty things I said about that woman... AWESOME!
Styles: Sue Bastian Bach, after cradling her first born son in her arms, just finished kneeing him in the NUTS.
SW: Oh HELL yes! I didn't think she had it in her... Boy, was I wrong! The only postive thing about that for Axl? He may not be able to have kids now, but really... I don't think that's going to be a problem.
Styles: You call that a positive?!
SW: Hey, if Axl can't give birth to some spawn that's gonna end up here in BOB in 20 years time... yeah, I'd call that a positive. Of course, if BOB survives for 20 more years, I think I'll call retirement an even BIGGER positive...
Styles: Axl drops to the mat, holding his gonads... He looks up at his mom, with a betrayed look. Sue stares down at Axl... and a vicous grin spreads across her face. And here comes Judas!
SW: Alright! Viruz, Sue, Judas... it's gonna be a three on one family beatdown! Axl's about to get the crap knocked out of him by his own parents! Even his own folks despise the jackass! This is GREAT!
Styles: Viruz grabs Axl by the hair, lifts him up, and hooks his arms... Judas gets in Axl's face...
Judas: This is for letting me down, you little punk! I thought you would grow up to be something WORTH a shit! But look at you! You're not even worth the crap on the sole of my boot! You're WORTHLESS!
[Judas drives his fist into Axl's gut, causing him to spit up blood... Judas shakes his head, before stepping to the side. Sue then steps in front of her son, and looks at him with disgust.]
Sue: I can't believe I didn't see the truth long ago... I can't believe I trusted you with the mayorship of Sinister City! Viruz is everything that you aren't, Axl... He embodies a TRUE son, and next to him, all of your flaws are GLARING. I'm sorry I wasted my time on trying to find you... when all I found was a useless, ungrateful BASTARD that couldn't live up to either of his parents expectations. I'm so glad we sold you for those tickets. Watching a KISS concert on a black and white tv in some seedy bar gave me more joy in one hour... then you would have in an entire lifetime. As far as I'm concerned... I only have one son. And his name? Is VIRUZ!
[Sue slaps Axl so hard, that he begins to cough up blood, only to choke on it due to the tears streaming down his face. Finally, Axl's brother turns him around, and grabs ahold of him by the throat. Viruz smiles... He takes his hand, and brushes some of the blood from Axl's face. He spreads the blood across his chest... savoring Axl's pain. Vi laughs menacingly... and then speaks.]
Viruz: You are so pathetic, you know that? You truly believe you're the greatest thing there is in this company... when, I mean, just LOOK at everyone else that calls BOB their home. Kobe Gyant... Sillicone M. Plants... Steve Studnuts... The Great. Hell, even XXXTreme Machine has a larger fanbase than you! Axl... there's so much I could say to you right now... So many ways I could tell you how much you suck, how much everyone hates you, and that no matter how hard you try, you'll never be as good as the best this company has to offer... But I don't have to. Because the facts speak for themselves. There's so many last words I could leave with you, as you're about to receive your FINAL wrestling move... before you become just another bum in some crappy apartment, with no job, living off wellfare. But I believe there's only one farewell that will suffice...
Viruz: Axl Van Halen... you ARE the weakest link. Goodbye.
SW: Couldn't have said it better myself. ... Well, I probably could, but... well... FINISH HIM!
Styles: Vi takes Axl underneath him arm, perhaps going for a ddt... which very well could be the finishing blow. The end of Axl's career could be only seconds away...
SW: I'm already planning the after-match celebration! Grab those beers, fellas in the locker room, cuz tonight we PARTY!
Styles: Hold the phone! Axl just shoved Viruz away, and the hacker extraordinaire just fell through the ropes!
SW: GODAMMIT TO HELL!
Styles: Sue approaches Axl from behind, chair in hand... but from behind Sue is Tifa, who pulls the chair out of her hands. Sue turns to Tifa, raising a hand to Axl's agent, but Tifa spins her back around... SHOT IN THE DARK! Axl connects with the superkick!
SW: That monster! He just struck his own mom! How he could have done something that terrible! Why, I'd never even DREAM of -
Styles: Give it a rest, Scotty! Aren't you the one that just got through saying you wouldn't hesitate to stomp your own mother's head in?
SW: Well... yeah. ... But have you ever met my mom? She's like the hose beast from hell! Believe me, if you had to put up with her for even a day, I'm sure you'd be willing to kick her dentures down her throat too!
Styles: Well, back to the match. Sue Bastian Bach is out in the center of the ring, and Axl is heading toward the ropes, ready to take the fight back outside of the ring... but as he walks, Judas stalks behind with a crowbar in hand...
SW: YAHOO! BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF HIM, JUDAS! Beating up people from behind FOR THE WIN!
Axl: Hey, thanks for tipping me off, Scotty!
SW: ... Oh shit.
Styles: Axl swings around and boots Judas in the gut, doubling him over... Axl loads Judas up in what appears to be a Vertebreaker... and the Vertebreaker hits! Axl's dad is out cold on the canvas, from a move I believe Axl calls the "Drop of Doom".
SW: Son of a BITCH! Me and my big friggin' mouth! This is... Dammit, that's it! I've gotta do something, or else that rat bastard is going to keep his job! And dammit... I just can't let that happen.
Styles: Oh Scotty, come on now! You can't... Well, he did. Scotty just dropped his headset, and he's heading toward the ring... but Tifa cuts him off with a WICKED chairshot! Scotty instantly falls to the paved floor... Wow, I don't think he's going to be moving for a while after that... This is horrible!
[You're actually worried about Scotty?]
Styles: Oh heck no, Detached, it's not that. This means I'll probably be joined by some crummy, third string commentator like -
Dan East: HELLO SPORTS FANS!
[Styles shoves a hand gun back into his pocket.]
Styles: Somebody HAD to do that. I couldn't stand that guy having another orgasm over a baseball card... And it seems as though Tifa is joining me. Hello Tifa, it's good to see you back in Brawlers.
Tifa: Styles, I just want to make one thing perfectly clear. After this match, I'll no longer be interfering on Axl's behalf. This match is very important though, in that if Axe loses? I lose my investment. And there's no chance in HELL I'm going to end up managing polka bands and lounge singers again... Yech. Axl may not be perfect... Hell, he may not even be average. But Axl's just about all I have now, and if I can pull the right strings, I know I'll be able to launch him into success. He just may be the thing I need to dig myself out of the rut I've been in for the past year. If he's not... I'll probably end up begging for change on the street. And I'll do anything I can to avoid that, even if it means working with a miserable excuse for a human being like Axl.
Styles: So I take it you're not going to be romantically involved with the guy like Rose and Michelle...
Tifa: Was I before? No. I've never really liked the guy. When he was a hair metalist, I was drawn to him, I'll admit... but I didn't know about the guy when we met. I was naive... But now? I know who he is, and I know HOW he is. And from now on, our association will remain strictly business. Axl is my ticket to a better life, and I'm going to make damn sure he doesn't ruin this for me. And here at MegaBrawl, that meant helping him avoid losing his job. But after tonight, he'll have to fend for himself in these situations. As long as his job isn't at stake, his win or loss record is out of my hands. I'm only in his life to insure that he draws cash, and by the end of '09? I guarantee he'll be one of BOB's elite.
Styles: Well, I certainly wish the two of you luck. Although he may be a horrible person, something even you can attest to, it must be said that Axl IS devoted to this company. ... And that's pretty much the only positive I can think of.
Tifa: Yup, I believe you covered it. ... Hey... oh NO! Is this... IT IS!
[Tifa reaches down and pulls something out of the wreckage of the announce table...]
Styles: Uh oh, it looks like the iPod has been trashed! It must have fallen out of Axl's pocket when he drove Viruz through the desk with the Slice!
Tifa: And it was damaged beyond repair! DAMN! I knew it might be a tad hard to keep an iPod from being a bit scratched up in the middle of an extreme hardcore wrestling match... Somehow, things like that always seem to happen.
Styles: Well, it looks as if Axl is going to have to find an alternative source of Enya's "Anywhere Is" if he wants to keep his job. At any rate, Axl is now outside the ring, headed for Viruz. The brothers' parents have been taken away by EMTs, and hopefully they'll be ok after the attack at the hands of Axl.
Tifa: They should have kept out of this. Viruz obviously knew he couldn't handle the match alone, so he had to stoop to bringing in his and Axl's parents to do his job for him. But it's obvious even with the three of them working together, they STILL can't defeat my client.
Styles: That may be true. Axl has sent Sue and Judas out on stretchers, and is now dragging Viruz by the hair toward the curtain! The grunge warrior could be taking this fight anywhere in the building! It seems as though we've got a camera in the back. Let's see where the brawling brothers are headed...
[The camera switches to the back, where Axl is slamming Viruz's face into every last piece of furniture and equipment he comes close to. Finally, Axl tosses Viruz toward a door, with Vi colliding like a semi-truck into a convertible...]
Styles: What an impact! Viruz smashes into the door, and as soon as he does, the door comes unhinged, with Vi rolling across the pavement, to the outside. Viruz now lays on the ground outside the stadium! Axl sprints toward the prone body of Viruz, and as he comes within a couple feet, he takes to the air, before crashing down with a massive splash! Viruz shakes violently, and Axl begins pounding his right fist over and over into the face of Vi. If Axl keeps this attack up, Vi may soon be as busted up as Axl is!
Tifa: As long as Axl wins, it doesn't matter WHO ends up bleeding. The more blood that spills, the more entertaining this match becomes. And the more entertaining this match becomes? The more profit I rake in.
Styles: You're a true businesswoman.
Tifa: Listen, money is all that matters in this world. The more I make, the better off I am. And I'm going to milk the Axl Train until I'm at the top of the game. ... I mean, WE'RE at the top.
Styles: Of course. Axl finally seems to have had enough of pounding Vi's face in, and stands up from his fallen brother. Axl grabs Vi by the hair, lifting him up, before irish whipping him into a ladder stood up against the side of the arena... But Viruz manages to leap in mid-run, hopping onto one of the ladder's rungs! Viruz climbs a bit more... He's climbing all the way to top of the arena entrance! Axl stares up at his brother... before looking over at his Yellow VolksWagon Beetle of Evil, parked right by the entrance... Axl pulls the driver's side door open, pulls his key from his pocket, and turns on the ignition... Axl grabs a CD from within the vehicle, and inserts it into the player... Axl presses play.
"I walk the maze of moments.
But everywhere I turn to
Begins a new beginning
But never finds a finish.
I walk to the horizon,
And there I find another.
It all seems so surprising,
And then I find that I know...
You go there, you're gone forever.
I go there, I'll lose my way.
If we stay here were not together...
Styles: It's "Anywhere Is" by Enya! Axl once again has a chance to pin his brother!
Tifa: COME ON AXL! Don't you DARE screw this up!
Styles: After Axl turns the song up full blast, he heads for the ladder... Axl begins climbing, rung by rung, till he reaches the top. Axl makes his way atop the building entrance, and as soon as he does, before he can even stand, Viruz begins putting the boots to him. But eventually, Axl finds a way to get up... Axl shoves Viruz away, but Vi comes right back. The two men begin to duke it out with punches, back and forth... Viruz sends a right hook Axl's way, which causes the "Savior" to teeter close to falling from the entrance... The Yellow VW Beetle looming far below.
Tifa: Oh dear lord... If Axl plummets into that thing, there's no way he'll be able to continue his career! Even if he falls through it and, by some miracle, turns around and defeats Viruz, he'll never be healed enough to return to the ring! DAMMIT AXL, get your head out of your ass and don't you even THINK about falling off that entrance! I've got too much at stake!
Styles: Tifa, I don't think Axl would purposefully fall off the entrance through a car...
Tifa: HE BETTER NOT, if he knows what's best for him! Not only will we both be out of a job, but I'll sue his ass!
Styles: For what?
Tifa: For everything he's got, whaddya think!
Styles: I meant for what PURPOSE. And besides, I'm sure with his BOB salary, "everything he's got" would be next to nothing.
Styles: ... Back to the match. Viruz comes hurtling toward Axl for a killing blow... a running attack that could send Axl dropping dozens of feet through the air, right through the windshield, hood, or roof of Axl's own car! Viruz is mere inches away, when... OH MY GYAAAD!
Tifa: ALRIGHT! Yes! He's done! He's out! HE'S FINISHED!
Styles: Folks, Viruz just... I can't believe it. That truly deserves a replay. If anyone in the truck can roll the footage, PLEASE do so...
[The scene plays over once again, showing Viruz coming toward Axl with a running blow that could have possibly put Axl away forever... When by some stroke of pure luck on Axl's part, Axl simply falls forward, out of breath from Vi's previous attacks, and the massive blood loss from every scar slicing across his face... Axl lay down on the entrance, gasping for breath, but his brother... His brother definitely had it worse. Viruz soared through the air, flailing his arms and legs about, as he came closer and closer to the VW Beetle. And finally, Vi SMASHED through the car windshield, sending glass to fly, and Viruz's blood to spill in buckets.]
Styles: Viruz is a bloody wreck, and so is what's left of Axl's windshield.
Tifa: Axl can get that fixed. Really, it doesn't matter, the thing was a mess before, and a broken windshield isn't going to make it that much worse. But all that matters is VICTORY IS OURS!
Styles: Axl, still out of breath, struggles to climb back down the ladder... He finally makes it to the ground, and stumbles his way toward the unconcious body of Viruz. Axl collapses ontop of his brother for the pin... just as Vicky Jean comes onto the scene. Vicky slaps her hand down upon the car hood to make the count...
"I took the turn and turned to
Begin a new beginning.
Still looking for the answer...
I cannot find the finish."
"Its either this or that way.
Its one way or the other.
It should be one direction...
It could be on reflection."
"The turn I have just taken...
The turn that I was making.
I might be just beginning...
I might be near the end."
Styles: THREE! Hegothim!
Tifa: YES! YES! Axl actually did it! 2009, here I come! ... I mean, WE. Here WE come...
[Scotty Whatbody finally makes it back up, and walks toward the commentary desk.]
SW: YOU BITCH! No chick wipes Scotty Whatbody out with a chair! I hope your boyfriend loses tonight and is FIRED! And that would put you out of work, ya BIMBO!
Styles: Uhm, Scotty... Axl won. Viruz is the one that's out of a job. And he may very well be paralyzed...
SW: ... Oh. ... FUCK! That means Axl's going to stick around for a THIRD year! GODDAMIT!
Tifa: And let me fuckin' reiterate, chumpstain. Axl is NOT, I repeat, NOT my boyfriend! There's nothing about him that I find even remotely attractive. In fact, he pretty much repulses me. He's strictly my business client, capice?
SW: Hm... Well, in that case.
[Scotty strolls over to the desk, and puts an arm over Tifa's shoulder. Scotty smiles at Tifa, as she looks at him with contempt.]
SW: How's about you and me catch some dinner after the show? ... You CAN cook right? Cuz I'm friggin' starving.
Tifa: Take your arm off of me before I kick your ass.
[Scotty does so.]
Tifa: Styles, it's been a pleasure talking with you. *Tifa stands up, and places the headset on the desk. She then looks at Whatbody* Scotty... I hope you choke and die.
[Tifa leaves, headed out of the arena to check up on Axl. Scotty sits down, and places the headset on.]
Styles: Yes, Scotty?
SW: I think I'm in love...
[And we cut to the inside of an airplane…a very low-budget airplane. Rusty. Dirty. The only light is provided by some very dull light bulbs overhead. Seats? No seats. This looks more like a freight type of airplane, so the seats are those bench-looking dealies. No seatbelts. Oh, as for that freight? There are rakes. And tables. Oh, right. And Kamikazie Ken, Insano Mano, Coma and Hallucination Boy are also there. See why I don't describe things anonymous eWmania judge? Because I suck at it!]
Styles: Well Scotty, we're now ready for the first ever Rakes On a Plane Match!
SW: Eh, I think I'd rather take a nap than watch this thing.
Styles: Somebody could get seriously hurt in this one. They're 20,000 feet in the air.
SW: Oh man. I seriously hope that The Commentator is standing by for the Kamikazie Ken gets thrown out of the plane and crashes through a table spot.
TC: I sure am, Scotty, by gawd! I've got my, "How do you learn to fall from out of an airplane!" Oh, and I've also got this one ready: "They killed 'im!" and "Kamikazie Ken may be broken in half!"
SW: Wait until it actually happens, TC.
Styles: Hey, look who else is up there. It's Generic Ref!
SW: That tubby bastard? Well at least the BOB honchos have their priorities straight. Vicky is far too valuable to put in on an airplane with those whackos.
Styles: And it looks like we're ready to get this one underway. We've got a brawl to start. Coma nails Mano with a Giant Elbow. Hallucination Boy with a Twisted Drive on Ken! Damn!
Styles: Everyone is just pounding on everybody with those rakes. This is brutal!
SW: This is perversely entertaining.
SW: And apparently a cheap way to get out of doing play-by-play.
Styles: Oh no! Coma's on Hallucination Boy's back now and he's charging toward Ken and Mano. Oh man! He just used those rakes like they were lances, and Hallucination Boy like his horse.
SW: Coma's whores?
Styles: What? No! Horse!
Styles: Stop that! They only sound exactly the same. Stereo fireman's guillotine with authority by the first Not Good Enough to Fight Alone Tag Team Champions, the Exploding Holy Grail.
SW: And now, I think we're about to see the first ever table on an airplane spot.
Styles: Hello! Hallucination Boy with a rake shot to Mano's backside.
IM: ¡Alguien consigue este rastrillo de mierda de mi asno!
Styles: I have no idea what Mano just said.
SW: Let me check Babel Fish. "Somebody obtains east excrement rake of my ass!" Scato Mano?
Styles: Um. Wow. OK! Maybe we'll skip those translations tonight. Stump Vice by Coma! Elbow Flip takes out Ken and Mano! Slingshot Stump Powerbomb through the table. OH MY G--oh right…*ahem* GOSH!
SW: You're still going to hell, Styles. All the hail Mary's aren't gonna save your Lord name taking in vain ass.
Styles: OH MY GOD! Gosh! Ken just put a table through Coma!
SW: An inverted table spot? Brilliant! Too bad it was on the Head Trauma Boy. Coma uses his own head when he goes bowling.
Styles: Mano with a corkscrew elbow drop on Hallucination Boy.
Styles: Misses. Mano looking for a dropkick now.
Styles: Misses again. He throws table scraps at Hallucination Boy.
HB: AND AUTOMOBILES!
Styles: Now Coma and Hallucination Boy are back on the offensive. Dual Hip Attack on Ken! And Mano gets one as well. DDT Gutbuster through another table! Oh my g. Three-quarter Power Powerbomb for Mano onto a rake!
Styles: I just read the moves, I have no clue how they're actually performing these moves.
IM: ¡Rastrillo de mierda! ¡Consiga de mi dick!
Coma: Who's your Diddy now, Villano number five, narf?
Styles: Damn! And now Ken is just unloading on Coma with rake shot after rake shot.
TC: How do you learn to get hit repeatedly with a rake?
SW: Save it, TC.
TC: Aww hell.
Styles: Ken and Mano now are in total control, just brutalizing Coma and Hallucination Boy. But hold on. Coma grabs the rake and tosses it aside.
[The camera zooms in on Coma.]
Coma: Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherpoinking rakes… on this motherpoinking plane! NEEP!
SW: Did anybody NOT see that one coming a mile away?
Styles: Look out!
Styles: Oh THAT can't be good! Coma missed Ken, but he didn't miss that window.
SW: Didn't he read that giant sign over it that said "Whatever You Do, Don't Break This Window!"?
Styles: Apparently not. And they're losing cabin pressure. Oh no!
[The picture begins shaking and rolling, as if someone is shaking and rolling the camera.]
SW: What? Seriously? They're going down? Man, I wonder who's gonna eat who first. I think Ken's like 80 percent robot parts at this point.
Styles: Would you be serious?
TC: How does a plane learn to fall from 20,000 feet in the sky?
Styles: TC! This is no joke! Two BOB originals are plunging to their deaths!
SW: Aw man, a non-finish on an On-Demand? The smarks are gonna be pissed!
[The feed suddenly cuts to black, then static.]
SW: Somebody better break the bad news to Michelle. We've LOST a camera.
Styles: Scotty! Seriously not funny!
SW: Oh, please. I'm sure they're fine wherever they are. Hopefully it's on a tropical jungle island with many deep, dark secrets.
Styles: Well, fans. We'll try and update you on the condition of Coma, Hallucination Boy, Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano. Are thoughts and prayers are obviously with them. Now, let's head back to Kay.
SW: Hey, Kay. Ask Death if they're dead. If anbody would know, HE would!
[Cut backstage to Kay Fabe, who is indeed with "God's Hitman" Death.
KF: Death, are they dead?
Death: You know…I'm pretty sure their careers are.
KF: Right. So. Big match. You. Zombie Mr. Fantastic.
Death: Kay. About a week ago I was on a casting room couch, nude, auditioning for porno directors. I told them, "Hey, I can really take it up the ass. You may recognize me from such hardcore gangbang scenes as the judging of the eWmania tournament."
Death: No doubt. I put my neck out there for BOB because I wanted this match against Zombie Mr. Fantastic. I would do anything to get my bony hands on the bastard who's trying to steal away my zombie cheerleader wife, Katie.
KF: Also, sexy!
Death: No doubt she's hot.
KF: Death, have you told her that you love her? That you don't want any other woman in the world?
Death: Well, I did just have a thing with Bettie Page the other night…
Death: What? It's Bettie friggin' Page! I may not be the best husband in the Netherworld, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let somebody break up my marriage besides me! Zombie Mr. Fantastic, prepare to die.
KF: Um, he's already dead.
Death: Oh, right. Wait, didn't we do this bit last month?
KF: I can't remember.
Death: I'll figure something out…
[Death walks off.]
KF: Wow. This one should…um…back to you?
[Inside Sin City Icons Stadium, "Killed by Death" is playing.
Death steps out to a very pro-Death crowd, as is usually the case in these angles with cheating wives or girlfriends, know what I'm saying?
Death begins his slow walk to the ring.
No doubt looking to make Zombie Mr. Fantastic pay for his and Katie's fling.
Um…who wrote this crap?
They seriously deserve a slap.]
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a grudge match in which neither man draws any breath.
Introducing first, from the Netherworld, this is Death!
Styles: While Death makes his entrance, we'll head once again back to Kay Fabe, who is now with Death's opponent, Zombie Mr. Fantastic.
Kay, is Zombie Mr. Fantastic feeling enthusiastic?
KF: Zombie Mr. Fantastic?
KF: Hey, I wasn't being sarcastic!
There will be no face eating, buster!
Now be gone with all your bluff and bluster.
ZMF: (Sad) Rar. Rar.
[Zombie Mr. Fantastic shuffles away.
Back to you!
SW: Did we enter into a musical?
Styles: I think this style is more Seussical.
["‘Human Flesh Wax" by Cenotaph hits the speakers.
Zombie Mr. Fantastic emerges wearing a new pair of Kobe V.V. sneakers.
He's also chowing down on some Brains in a Can.
Hey, Michelle, I plan to obliterate whoever came up with this rhyming idea with a hot frying pan.
NH: Introducing next, it's the hero of all the zombies down in Zombieville, and a resident of the graveyard in Bacon, Idaho.
And a zombie who loves to put brains in his sloppy joe.
This is Zombie Mr. Fantastic, Sin City.
SW: Boy is this match gonna be shitty.
Styles: Zombie Mr. Fantastic sure is taking his time getting down the aisle.
SW: I think I'll take a bathroom break for a while.
Styles: Now sit back down, Scotty, you've got a job to do.
SW: Hey, Styles…fuck you!
Styles: Where's your holiday spirit?
SW: If they want me to read this stuff, they can suck it.
Styles: We may have a problem, here, it looks as if Zombie Mr. Fanstastic is caught.
Better pay attention, this might be an important part of the plot.
SW: Wait, wait, wait, is that a zipper that has Zombie Mr. Fantastic caught?
Dude, I really need to go smoke some pot.
I know it's Christmas and all.
But BOB, seriously, can suck my balls.
Styles: If that's just a suit, then is Mr. Fantastic really dead?
SW: Well, he did get shot in the head.
Styles: If he's not him, then who is he?
SW: Why in the world would somebody dress up like a zombie?
Styles: Oh wait, I think I just got an idea.
SW: I think I'm about to have diarrhea!
Styles: Death has grabbed the zombie imposter and is ripping away.
SW: He's trying to get him naked? Dude is Death turning gay?
Styles: Death is ripping and pulling with all his might.
And the guy in the costume isn't putting up much of a fight.
SW: Hey, Styles, we've got company, it's everyone's favorite zombie cheerleader, think she's a fake too?
I should rip off HER uniform and make sure she really has boobs!
Styles: Scotty, that's not Zombie Mr. Fantastic, it was all just a myth!
In fact, the man in the zombie suit is none other than Alex Smith!
SW: Smith was just pretending to be undead?
I wonder if he managed to get Katie to spread.
Styles: Katie seems angry, while Death seems amused.
Meanwhile, this Sin City crowd is just completely confused.
SW: Who knew Alex had such a thing for zombie chicks.
If I were him, I'd cover my balls in preparation for numerous kicks.
Styles: All Death can do is laugh.
SW: I wonder if Alex had his way with Katie like Festering Death had their way with that giraffe.
Styles: Alex is on his knees before the zombie he loves, he's pleading his case.
But Katie simply responds by eating his face.
Death sprung off the ropes and covered the corpse with glee.
Laughing all the time as he captured the one, two, three.
SW: This match really made no sense, I don’t get the point.
Once again, I reiterate my need for a joint.
Styles: The crowd is confused, they've been robbed of a match.
SW: Just like Alex has been robbed of Katie's decaying snatch.
Styles: Alex Smith is dead, possibly for real this time.
SW: So Styles, since the match is over, can we stop with the rhymes?
Styles: Apparently not, it's still going on.
SW: Oh…come on!
Styles: Now Death grabs his wife, what's he going to do?
Katie has been so untrue, are they through?
And what happened then, well in Sin City, they say.
That he Netherworld Powerbombed her ass that day!
Now that was extreme!
SW: Extreme? That didn't rhyme. Woohoo! It's over!
[Kay Fabe stands backstage armed with a microphone and she knocks on a locker room door. Lots of footsteps can be heard and finally the door to the locker room opens and American Panda stands there and looks her up and down.]
American Panda: Who are you?
KF: Kay Fabe. Interviewer for BOB.
AP: I beg your pardon?
KF: Kay Fa- you heard me.
KF: I wanna know your thoughts on your upcoming Number One Contenders match for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS.
AP: American Panda's thoughts are currently on nibbling upon that pretty little jugular of yours. You into beastiality darlin'?
KF: Pfffft. No.
AP: You ever had black and white all over you?
AP: You want black and white all over you?
KF: Is that a joke about panda semen?
AP: No. It's actually black and white.
KF: Wow. (shakes her head to get back on topic) Anyways, your match. You. Kurt Angel. The Great. Kobe Gyant. What're your thoughts on this one?
AP: Well American Panda 2 + 2 says that he's gonna hand out a few boxes of whip butt to three SOB's that aren't anywhere near as bad as this SOP. American Panda is gonna head on out to the ring and eat some fucken jugulars in front of every damn fan here in BOB and then he's gonna go on up to Studnuts, SMP, which ever piddling little panda turd has the belt at the end of the night and he's gonna do this to them...
[American Panda turns to the camera and raises his middle claw.]
KF: That's very articulate of you.
AP: How 'bout you suck my minty panda balls, darlin'. You ever eaten Creemovsumyungi?
KF: Sounds strangely familiar to Fluffovgurlflap. Same chef?
AP: Oh, I've had that. Smells like fish and tastes like chicken.
KF: Oh... the sound of those flavours are bringing back memories.
AP: American Panda is gonna go down there with the Il Kobang right here (raises an accoustic) and get a little acoustic equalising happening in this very ring smacksack, and that's the final word coz American Panda implied so!
[American Panda slams the door in Kay Fabe's face leaving her thinking about the flavors they were previously discussing.]
[Back to the ring. “Rising Sun” by Bexta hits the sound system and the fans boo loudly.]
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Walk the Plank Match! First, coming in at 217 pounds and standing at 5 feet and 11 inches tall. Hailing from Parts Unknown, he is the Acting BigBOSS, Seth HARRRRRRRR-KERRRRRRRRR!
[Harker walks out with a cocky look on his face as the fans boo him.]
Styles: Here comes the Acting BigBOSS now, challenged to a match a couple of weeks ago by the tyrant of the Eight Seas, Kid Pirate.
SW: The iAd have held the reigns to BOB for a long time, Mikey. Think something might change here?
Styles: Well Kid Pirate DID soften Seth up with some severe ass poking with that plastic sword.
SW: I remember I was with this chick once who was hermaphroditic. She did exactly the same thing to me.
Styles: Do you understand we record these shows?
SW: Turns out she wasn’t even a hermaphroditic chick. It was some Mexican guy and we were both trashed and cupping one another’s man boobs.
Styles: This’ll be a show to remember.
[“Yo Ho (A Pirate’s Life For Me)” by Jonas Brothers comes on and out comes Kid Pirate and Pretty Boy.]
NH: Hailing from the Eight Seas, weighing 153 pounds and standing at five feet three. He is KID PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTEEEEE!
Styles: And here is the challenger accompanied by the feisty BOB Diva, Pretty Boy. Never thought I’d say that ever.
SW: Hermaphrodites are like unwrapping a Kris Kringle present. You really dunno what you’re gonna get.
Styles: Isn’t it a 50-50 chance of one or the other.
SW: You’d think.
Styles: (shuddering) Yuk. Anyways, imagine if we ever got back to the task at hand. This is a walk the pank match, to win this match you must make your opponent walk the plank and into the wading pool below.
[Kid Pirate has a microphone and interrupts the proceedings, Harker is checking how sturdy the plank is.]
KP: YAAARRRR! HAAARRRRRker. We be ‘bout to ‘ave our match lad but there be a surproise ya di’n’t know ‘bout lad. YAAARRRR! SHARKS! With laser beams on there ‘eads! In the wadin’ pool below. YAAARRRR!
[Vicky Jean shakes her head.]
KP: Ermmm…. Dolphins with blow torches?
[She shakes her head once more.]
KP: Uh… what about eels with UV lamps?
[The referee shakes her head yet again.]
KP: YARRR! Whaddawe ‘ave then, ya land lovin’ land lover!
VJ: Um…. I believe it’s trout with laser pointers.
KP: Laser pointers can hurt yer cataracts, aye?
VJ: Aye. Errm. Yes.
KP: YAAAARRRR! TROUT WITH LASER POINTERS HARKER! PREPARE TO WALK THE PLANK!
[Kid Pirate runs toward the ring and Harker baseball slides beneath the bottom rope with a dropkick. The plank is set-up in the far right corner over a kiddy wading pool.]
Styles: Harker with the dropkick to the chops to take control. Plancha to the outside and he tosses Kid Pirate into the Flimsy Guardrail®. Pretty Boy tries to claw at Harker’s eyes but Harker rings a little bell.
SW: Harker’s ringing a little bell. Is that the safety word? Jerri Li and me have a safety word and it’s “Poughkeepsie”. Try saying that with your lips stapled to her lips.
Styles: Gross. A cat comes out from under the ring and Pretty Boy flies for the hills with the cat in hot pursuit.
SW: That BOB Diva is going to get eaten by pussy. First time ever the sentence could be structured like that!
Styles: Let’s not talk about sentence structure. Don’t you realise we just got reviewed?
SW: Oh right. EWZine is number one! Now… who’s got my cookie?
Styles: What about eWmania? We have our RP boar- erm… Rant Zone there.
SW: OK. Uh, eWmania! Number one for wrestling discussion!
Styles: I think that’s all bases covered. Harker with the eye rake and dunks Kid Pirate’s head into the water.
SW: His missing eye should protect his cataracts.
Styles: (sighs) Kid Pirate manages to donkey kick Harker in the treasure chest. Kid dropkicks Harker as he lands on his knees. He rolls Harker back into the ring.
SW: Kid Pirate really wants to become the Acting BigBOSS. You think he’ll introduce mandatory wenches for everybody.
Styles: Here’s for hoping. Kid Pirate climbs onto the plank and springboards himself into the ring with a flying guillotine peg leg drop. Harker doesn’t know where he is.
Harker: Where am I?
VJ: In the ring.
Harker: Oh right.
Styles: NOW HE KNOWS!
SW: Look out Kid Pirate! Harker knows where he is!
Styles: Harker with a spinning heel kick and pulls Kid Pirate up for a short-arm clothesline. Down goes the Terror of the Eight Seas.
SW: Do you think Harker is opposed to mandatory wenches? If it were me I’d be doing the J-O-B just for wenches.
Styles: Mandatory wenches? Do you suppose that extends to the commentary team?
SW: Color commentators at least. Say, which of us is the color commentator again?
Styles: I’m play-by-play and you’re off-color comments.
SW: Oh right. POO!
Styles: Well played, sir. Harker with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker and Kid Pirate looks a little dizzy. Looks like he’s got a case of land legs. He’s going to hurl his buried treasure of the side of ship…er, ring!
SW: Maybe he’s got a case of scurvy?
Styles: Not physically possible on land, at least not what I think.
SW: You’d be surprised the types of diseases you can catch from the ladies Trey Vincent can introduce you to.
Styles: Harker lifts KP’s legs over the top rope and he lands face first in his own vomit!
SW: That’s HOT! In Germany at least.
Styles: Harker goes to the outside but he’s a bit reluctant to touch Kid Pirate. Kid Pirate uses the hesitation and headbutts him in the face! GROSS!
SW: The Germans in attendance will be rubbing their nipples right about now.
[CUTTO: Germans in the audience.]
German #1: Ya. This is ein hotness, ya?
German #2: Ya. Ein hotness alright. Not as hot as ein comrade Hasselhoff and the hamburger, ya?
German #1: Nein. Nobody is ein hot as the Hoff.
[CUTBACK: Kid Pirate stomping his pegleg on Harker’s chest.]
Styles: Kid Pirate has regained the momentum here and he lays Harker stomach first over the Flimsy Guardrail® and- WOW! Standing forward moonsault onto the back of Harker and his fresh out of breath.
SW: Wait a minute! Doesn’t Kid Pirate know that we don’t innovate moves in BOB?
Kid Pirate: YARR! I be sorry.
Styles: Kid Pirate picks up Harker and snap mares him on the hard outside of the ring-
SW: That’s MUCH better.
Styles: …and there’s a vicious elbow drop. Kid Pirate backs that up with an arm drag. The fans are on their feet.
SW: Wow. They really are. For that?
[CUTTO: fans standing in the front row.]
Little Girl: There’s a mouse!
[A big bustling biker rises to his feet.]
Biker: GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY!
[CUTBACK: Kid Pirate catapults Harker into the ringpost.]
Styles: Kid Pirate introduces Harker’s face to the ringpost.
SW: I knew a chick that looked like she chased ringpost’s for a living.
Styles: Oh really? What was her name?
SW: I will not shame Leary’s mother like that.
Styles: Who’s Leary?
SW: Call the play.
Styles: Kid Pirate rolls Seth Harker into the ring and follows in but Harker rises to his feet and whips KP into the ropes – CLOTHESLINE!
SW: If Harker gets in the way of mandatory pirate wenches I will definitely not pay attention to ANY of his promos.
Styles: Whaddaya mean? You NEVER pay attention anyways.
SW: Well… less attention then.
Styles: Harker tosses Kid Pirate into the corner. 10-punch and the fans join in.
Fans: 1!... HA HA HA!
Fans: 2!... HA HA HA!
Fans: 3!... HA HA HA!
SW: What the Hell?
Styles: Sounds like the Count is in the crowd tonight.
[CUTTO: the Count from Sesame Street is laughing maniacally.]
The Count: I love zee ten punch! HA HA HA! One, two, three… one, two, three… why won’t you count wit-
[American Panda comes from out of nowhere and grabs the Count by the throat and shakes him. The fans cheer.]
American Panda: I hate fucken muppets!
[CUTTO: Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy.]
Miss Piggy: Let’s get outta here, Kermie.
Kermit: Hey, Piggy, why can’t you count to seventy?
Miss Piggy: You make one more joke about me getting a frog in my throat mister and I’ll kick the stuffing out of you!
Kermit: It’s coz you’re a fucken pi-
[American Panda bursts in and grabs Miss Piggy by the throat and shakes her. Kermit runs away flapping his arms around.]
American Panda: WHY, GOD! WHY DID YOU RELEASE MUPPETS AND THEN FORSAKE US?!?
[CUTBACK: Harker up to about the thirtieth punch when Pretty Boy flies in and poops in his eye.]
Styles: BOMBS AWAY FROM PRETTY BOY!
SW: That’s really crap.
Styles: Yes! It is!
SW: Oh brother.
Styles: Kid Pirate takes advantage and flies from the top rope – SKULL & CROSSBONES!
SW: Egads! This one is nearly over.
Styles: Kid Pirate tosses his pirate hat into the crowd and goes for the ropes… THE MOST STERILISING MOVE IN WRESTLING HISTORY!
SW: EGADS! BLACK PEARLS! Peg leg to Harker’s hoo-hoo!
Styles: And Kid Pirate is leading Seth Harker to the plank with the assistance of Pretty Boy.
SW: How has VERY sensual drumsticks I might add.
Styles: Is there anything you wouldn’t poke with your cheesy wand?
Styles: Is that a question or a statement?
SW: (dejected) Question. *sigh*
Styles: And Harker is in limbo over that wading pool filled with vicious trout with laser pointers strapped to their heads.
SW: I can’t watch! What if one of those trout put a pilot off course?
Styles: The plane would crash and we would have a real live series of lost except it’s probably white people crashing in Harlem.
SW: Scary. Hey… how come that fat guy never lost any damn weight on that island?
Styles: It’s television.
SW: It’s wha… you mean it’’s not a documentary? No wonder they all get their hair done between seasons.
Styles: Harker finally wipes his eyes and realises he’s on the plank. He’s panicking and-
Styles: He’s in the drink with the laser-pointer trout! THIS IS HARDCORE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!
SW: Do PETA care about fish?
Styles: Only dolphins.
SW: Did you know dolphins are the only other mammal which has sex for pleasure?
Styles: I did not. How did you find out?
SW: Let’s just say my first girlfriend worked at SeaWorld and she REALLY knew how to jump through a hoop.
NH: And here’s your winner… and NEW Acting BigBOSS…. KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-RRRRRRRRRRRRRATE!
Styles: Who saw it coming? Kid Pirate becomes the Acting BigBOSS of BOB. What’s in store for us?
SW: (fingers crossed) MANDATORY WENCHES! MANDATORY WENCHES!
Fans: LET’S HAVE WENCHES! (clap-clap-clapclapclap) LET’’S HAVE WENCHES! (clap-clap-clapclapclap)
Styles: Hmmm, I wonder what Kid Pirate is thinking about?
Kid Pirate: YARRRR! How come that fat fookin whale nay lose no weight? YARRRR!
Styles: There you have it, folks. Hurley is not a believable character! And KP is the new Acting BigBOSS!
CLICK HERE FOR MEGABRAWL II PART 3
©2008 BOB Wrestling!