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NAGAM 10!

TEN SUB-PAR CARDS IN THE MAKING!!

BOB Coast to Coast

(Panning the outside marquee of the 3 Miles From Graceland Bingo Hall nestled somewhere 3 miles from Memphis, Tennessee...one can see that somebody has added three zeros just after the 3. Strong suspicions suggest Kevin Coster, trying to hype his new movie, and trying to avoid being the pre-Pulp Fiction Travolta. Cut inside to a regular looking bingo room. Several tables, a lot of Elvis stuff, hillbillies everywhere and a guy celebrating wildly after just winning the Blue Suede Shoes cover all in the night's final E-L-V-I-S bingo game. Really, the guy won blue suede shoes)

SW: Welcome to The Not As Good As Monday Thursday Show, live from Memphis, home of THE KING! That's Elvis, not Richard Petty or Jerry Lawler, although I think Lawler is from here. Hey, looks like the bingo is over and the place is all ours! WHOO HOO!

NH: (looking at the crowd) Are THEY staying?

SW: OF COURSE! They get two-for-one tonight! ELVIS bingo and BOB! Two great things that go great together!

NH: Scotty, I can't believe you just said that.

SW: You know what? I can't either. But what the hell? It's MY show and I can say whatever I want to! And I'll say this, we have another subpar Thunder-esque extravaganza tonight! With me, the lovely Nurse Heidi. I'm Scotty "What-A-Body" Whatbody...and this is NAGAM TEN, BABY! We've hit double digits!

NH: Now, if you could just get the ratings that high...

SW: Ouch. Well, if you'd show a little more clea...

NH: WATCH IT, NOW!

SW: Ummmmmm, clear cut bias towards heel wrestlers like I do. Uh-rah, like, ratings would....not be as good unless you showed some cleavage! WHOO HOO! Yeah, BABY! KNOCKERS = RATINGS!

NH: You're such an uncouth, uncultured redneck, Scotty. Get on with the card rundown before I smack you.

SW: Sheesh, what's with you?

NH: Nothing, I'm just moody today.

SW: Oooooooooooooh. Getting a little visit from the monthly....

NH: DAMMIT, SCOTTY!

SW: What? I was going to say monthly bill collector. Really! I SWEAR! (shudders)

NH: One more remark like that, Mike Monroe's whipping boy...and you and I will be giving these fans an extra match.

SW: COOL! Can it be in oil?

('Death stare' given, the kind your Mother gave you as a kid when you were told no less than 5 times not to jump on the bed, but you're still standing on it, and just bent your knees)

SW: Okay. Okay. We have The Undietaker taking on J.C. Long in the Highly Embarrassing/Unrespectable Opening Bout™. Pain & Pleasure hooking up with... who the hell is "Massively Packaged"? (shrugs) Anyway, it's for the number one contender spot for the "You Gotta Have Friends" tag-team titles and it appears there'll be more in the ring than just four men and Generic Ref....

MA: (butting in) Kamikazie Ken will battle Hellian Gonzales, formerly of the MWF, in a Grudge Match and a...now I'm told...is THIS right? A 37 man Jobber Fest Battle Royal to see who faces douja in one round of that stupid tournament?

SW: WOW! 37 men? And what exactly did you mean when you called me Mike's whipping boy? That hurt, Heidi.

NH: Not as much as my foot will hurt when I kick it straight up your...

SW: OH LOOKIE! The Masked Announcer is in the ring!

MA: LADY AND GENTLEMAN, people dressed like Elvis, and the guy in the rhinestone leisure suit that won the blue suede shoes earlier, this is our opening contest! First, from Death Valley, at 6' 11" and 360 pounds...THE UNDIETAKER!

(Forbidden by city ordinance to play anything but Elvis tunes in the bingo hall, The Undietaker saunters to the ring to "Houng Dog". Eddie B. adds a "Hound Dog Scratchin' His Balls Scritchie Scratch", raising the ire of many in attendance. Undie's manager, The Ring Bearer, is strangely absent as The Undertaker circa 1992 clone steps over the top strand and into the ring)

NH: Hey, where's Undietaker's mentor?

SW: I guess UT realized the guy's gimmick sucked and dropped him. Y'know, something like WCW should have noticed sooner with Dungeon of Doom and The Demon. Anyway, The Ring Bearer is outta here quicker than New Coke! HA! New Coke, that drink blew.

NH: Maybe so, but New Coke was better than Tab.

MA: Introducing his opponent, from...oh, I don't know...hell with it. He slipped me an extra five to call him, "MR. THURSDAY NIGHT", J.C. LONG!

SW: What? I thought he was "The Regular Guy".

NH: Maybe he learned that guys with no gimmick get walking papers here. Read: Alex Smith.

SW: Oh, I see. I think...

(J.C. enters to "Love Me Tender", drawing some admiration from the female fan base. He circles the ring, prancing around and "glad hands" some ringsiders, then jumps up on the apron and steps through the ropes)

SW: Listen to this jacked crowd! If anything, people in the Mid-South love Elvis and wrestling, and possible bingo, too...and tonight they're getting IT ALL!

NH: How lucky can they be? *sigh* J.C. sizing up the much bigger man. Undietaker raises an arm for that always intriging "test of strength" start of the bout thing, and there's the bell.

SW: (looking around) Man, these fans behind us are very vocal! I guess having the ring in the middle of the room pissed some of them off and got them riled up. I even heard something about a petetion and a pain and suffering suit to be filed against The BigBOSS for blocking the bingo number board with the ring.

NH: Let 'em be mad, they'll get over it. J.C. just kicked the Undietaker in the shin, doesn't look like he's falling for that test of strength gag.

SW: Undie's irate! He lunges at Long...J.C. with a duck under/go behind. UT counters with a back elbow that sends J.C. reeling towards the turnbuckle! Undietaker now extending a leg and choking out the smaller grappler with his foot!

NH: Irish whip coming up, J.C. bounces hard out of the corner...UT has him by the throat!

SW: He's looking towards the back of J.C.'s pants, could be the WEDGIE AIDED CHOKESLAM FROM HELL!

NH: Not so fast, J.C. wiggled free and quickly slid out to the floor, re-evaluates the situation and takes a breather.

SW: WOW! This match was almost over as fast as New Coke!

(Heidi looks at Scotty with that "What The Hell" look)

SW: Long back in now...walks right up to Undietaker and fires a knife-egde chop!

crowd: HUNKAHUNKABURNIN'CHEST!

SW: Didn't even budge the big man! He grabs J.C. and flings him across the ring like a rag doll. Backs him against the ropes and sends him across the ring...

NH: Long avoids the clothesline attempt, off the opposite side...cross body block! UT caught him, and converts it to a gorilla press!

SW: With the size difference, UT looks like a gorilla pressing a chimpanze! J.C. dropped hard, bounces off the mat about a foot and ends up face down. Undietaker quickly picks him back up by the hair. ONE...TWO...THREE! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

MA: LADY AND GENTLEMAN, YOUR WINNER....J.C. LONG!

NH: Come on, Scotty...don't tell me you've never seen the "Writer's Block Inside Cradle". Highly effective and always ends the match. Big win for J.C. and gives him tremendous momentum going into the only world title tournament that matters.

SW: Hold up, Heidi, you have to say like this: THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! That's why they have it in all caps on the script. Hey, look at Long scamper out of the ring and bolt up the aisle before The Undietaker can steal his underwear. UT still in the ring with a dazed look on his face. Like he drank New Coke or something...

NH: Okay, dammit...what's the deal with this New Coke stuff? You've bashed it three times already.

SW: Endorsement deal with BOB's new soft drink/sports juice...SNAPPLE!

NH: There's already a drink called that, dummy.

SW: You didn't let me finish...SNAPPLE YOUR NECK! Everytime I degrade a competetor, mainly Coke...cha-ching for me! The guy that invented the S.Y.N. formula used to work for Coke. Ummm, until they fired him. So, he really likes it when I trash New Coke. SNAPPLE YOUR FINGERS...SNAPPLE YOUR NECK! NEW COKE WAS POISON!

NH: Oh....my.....God. (rolls eyes)

(Cut to BOB-New Jersey. Bon Jovi is playing "It's My Life" live and GBH is seen body surfing over a crowd of rowdies drinking Snapple Your Neck. He is soon dropped to the floor and nearly trampled to death, but not before we're back in Memphis)

MA: LADY AND GENTLEMAN, Elvis lovers, anybody else still here....our next event of the evening will determine the #1 contenders for the "YGHF" tag-team titles!

crowd: (sarcastic gasp)

MA: Introducing at this time from Kent State, at a total combined weight that would be the exact number of both their weights added together, Jim "Massive Man" and Josh "Totally Packaged", or was it "Totally Packaged" Jim and "Massive Man" Josh? Whatever. "MASSIVELY PACKAGED!"

(Eddie B., thinking the knife-edge chop incident was a request, plays "Hunka Hunka Burnin' Love"...but deep down wishes he could play Soft Cell's "Tainted Love". And why not? It's way cooler and reminds him of the hard times back in a Chicago new wave night club, when he was first starting out and forced to wear parachute pants and big hair. Oh, how he has come so far. Jim leads Josh as they sprint to the ring and slide under the ropes, jump on opposite turnbuckles and pose for an apathetic crowd. Until Jim does a quick Elvis inspired kata, and suddenly, they have the fans on their side.)

MA: And their opposition...from the cold, hard ice of the NHL and Canada...and from such films as "(One-Eyed Trouser) Anaconda", "Me, Myself and Irene (The Gang Bang Chronicles)", and "Honey, I Shrunk The Kids...But Look At My Great Big Weiner"! Jean Bannister and Sir Hungalot....PAIN AND PLEASURE!

(Eddie B. keeps playing "Hunka Hunka Burning Love" for two reasons: his Elvis collection is thin at best and with Sir Hungalot coming out it seemed appropiate. Bannister and The Big Sir enter to mild heel heat until Jean yells, "CELINE DION IS WAY BETTER THAN ELVIS!" A near riot ensues...)

SW: Hey, I thought this was suppossed to be one of those rip-off the WWF gimmick matches...

NH: Yeah, so did I. I guess after that Lawler/Bret Hart "Kiss My Foot" Match led to our "Lick My Kitty" Match between Tuna Vachon and Lynette "Bull" Dykstra...BigBoss had second thoughts.

SW: What was wrong with that Vachon/Dykstra match?

(Cut to Backstage Area™. The BOSSES are conversing as Bivalve can just barely be seen in the background taking a smoke break)

BB: YOU IDIOT UNDERLING! You booked this thing, Li'lBOSS. Where are the tables? Where are the ladders? Where is that damn chair?

LB: Sorry, BOSS. Snore Games ate up our savings. We're fresh out of everything!

(Brief shot of The Flunkie shaving with a butter knife)

BB: DAMN YOU! You've screwed up for the last time...I'm booking your tiny little ass at FOOTBRAWL. But in the meantime, find some in-ring plunder PRONTO! That means NOW!

LB: YES SIREE!

(The Li'LBOSS salutes and runs off. Meanwhile in the ring, the bell has sounded and all four wrestlers are defending themselves against the "Celine Dion Remark" angered mob. Several minutes later, order is restored just as a semi-clean shaven Flunkie appears long enough to toss a "NH" embroidered ironing board, The Li'lBOSS' water fountain step stool, and a lone metal folding chair)

NH: HEY! That's my ironing board! How'd Flunkie get into my dressing room?

SW: I don't know, but I hope he tells me! Humina, humina...

NH: Pig.

(Even though it's been there all night, Clive finally draws attention to the hole punched 3x5 index card hanging above the ring by a thread. After zooming in, you at home can read: "#1 Contenders. Redeem at FOOTBRAWL for one (1) "YGHF" tag-team title shot)

SW: There you have it, I guess the first team to nab the coupon gets the shot...

NH: Really? You sure? Monroe was wrong, you're not as dumb as you look. Anyway, it's going to be tough getting to that thing when all they have is a step stool and my....HEY, THAT'S MY IRONING BOARD!

Sir Hungalot: "Really"?

(He jumps on and vigorously starts "dry humping" it, leaving himself wide open for a legdrop from Josh. Jean then whacked Jim with the step stool and sent him crumbling to the canvas)

NH: I swear, if they break my board there's gonna be hell to pay.

SW: Bannister over an forearms Josh, staggers him a bit. Big bodyslam! Sir Hungalot has regained his composure and is now beating Jim down in the corner. Sir H. moves over now to his partner...double team coming up! Sends Jim for the ride....FLAPJACK!

NH: They're going for the stool now...

SW: Heh, you said stool.

NH: Shut up, Scotty. You're so immature. Jean and Hungalot trying to set up that stool to reach the index card...

SW: NO WAY, BABY! Too early for that...Josh spears Big Sir in the back, sending him crashing into Bannister! Josh now over to help his partner up...

Josh: (whispering) "Dude, look. You can see up Nurse Heidi's uniform from here. SWEET! NO PANTIES, BRAH!"

Jim: "NO SHIT?!"

NH: What a pep talk from Josh, Jim SPRUNG to his feet! Wonder what he said...

SW: I don't know! By the way, I thought these guys were face characters.

NH: Me, too. What brought that up, Scooter?

SW: They're smuggling foreign objects into the ring...look, they both have a roll of quarters in their pockets!

NH: That's strange. I didn't notice that when they came out for intros. And why are they just standing there, staring over here?

crowd: "OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

SW: Sir Hungalot with an uppercut lowblow to Jim! It also apperas The Big Sir injured his hand! Bannister whirls Josh around and decks him with a looping haymaker! Now he throws him to the ringside area...

NH: Jean follows Josh outside and sends him into the Flimsy Guardrail™. Sir Hungalot shakes his wrist, subdues the pain, and has MY IRONING BOARD! Watch it, porn boy!

SW: Spin wheel kick from Jim puts a stop to that! Jim has the board now...Big Sir getting to his feet...

CRACK!

crowd: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

SW: WHAT A SHOT! Hungalot now in that en vogue and trendy termed Approved Blading Position™. YES! HE'S BUSTED WIDE OPEN(R)!

NH: Jean just took a backdrop from Josh on the floor. Josh now back in, he and Jim are going for the ticket!

SW: Check THIS out! The Kent Staters are thinking on the fly, Josh is up on Jim's shoulders...stretching for that number one contender card!

NH: Bannister has quickly recovered and has mounted the top turnbuckle, Josh turning around...

crowd: "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

(Shot of town's fireworks display from last year being show on the east wall)

SW: YEAH! What a clothesline from Bannister! Shades of The Legion of Doom on that one! And Jim's own partner played the role of one of The Warriors. I LOVE IT!

NH: Jean getting to his feet, Josh approaching with that "double axe-handle over the head" signal for a abdomen shit...Bannister reads it and lands a shot into his breadbasket. Nails a DDT! Now he crushes both "Massively Packaged" with that lone chair! What's he doing now?

SW: He's stacking Josh on Jim! Quick thinking by the hockey star...who said NHLers were dumb jocks?

(Cut to fan with a sign reading "IN-DEED!" No real reason, just because it was there, I guess)

SW: Bannister throwing his bloody partner on the makeshift dogpile...now has the board and the stool. It just might be enough!

NH: Wait a minute, Jean's now waving to the back...Generic Ref suspiciously watching thingsfrom the floor...

THWACK!

SW: OOOOOOH! It's The Violent Pacifist "Appearing From Nowhere"(patent pending). He just blindsided the back of G. Ref's knee with Mr. Bat!

(Pan over to Generic Ref, he's laying on the floor clutching his knee...squealing a pathetic, Nancy Kerrigan-like: "WHHHHHHHY? Wuh...wuh...wuh...WHYYEEEEEEYYYY?" Back to ring)

NH: VP is in the ring, and at 6'9", he should have no problem reaching the prize from the top of that pile!

SW: HE HAS IT! And here comes Brandon! He slides into the ring and tries to grab the card from VP...but that Pacifist that is Violent holds on like a pit bull! You know it's coming!

*R-I-I-I-I-P!*

NH: They tore it in half! And look, Generic Ref has magically recoverd just in time to inspect the card.

SW: Yeah, and he's waving to The Masked Announcer!

MA: LADY AND GENTLEMAN! The referee's decision is a DRAW! A DRAW! Since both The Three Guys and The Kent State Krew own equal halves of the #1 Contender's card...they are both declared NUMBER ONE CONTENDERS! They will both face the tag-team champions in a triple threat match tentative at FOOTBRAWL!

(Seconds later, Eddie B. and The Flunkie charge the ring armed with a CD rank, a cue card, and some remnants of pyro from Snore Games as all hell breaks loose. But you miss it, we went to commercial)


FANS! It's here! Write an essay as to why you want to join GBH at BOB-New Jersey during our next broadcast! Please, we need someone there that is semi-coherent! Thanks!


SW: SWEET! GBH has worn out his welcome, I don't know why The Big Cheese keeps him around.

NH: It's a pity thing, Scotty. The guy is a former wrestler and maybe BigBOSS didn't want to toss him into the streets. You know, keep him around for all he's done for the sport after his career was over. Read: Dusty Rhodes, Roddy Piper, Mick Foley...etc.

SW: Fine then. As long as he doesn't make him Commissioner.

NH: Shhhhhh. Don't give him any ideas.

MA: LADY AND GENTLEMAN! This next contest is a special intra-fed GRUDGE MATCH!

crowd: (zero reaction)

MA: Intoducing at this time, formerly from somewhere in Cuba...at nearly 7 feet and weighs quite a bit. HELLIAN GONZALES!

(Eddie B., nursing a small cut above his eye...plays "Heartbreak Hotel". The towering MWFer sways to the ring as onlookers gawk at his unusual size. He steps over the top rope FROM THE FLOOR, and enters the ring. Almost immediately, a man in a rhinestone leisure suit enters from the other side)

SW: HEY! Who the hell is that!

NH: Hellian Gonzales, is your headset working?

SW: No, dummy! Over there, in the rhinestones!

NH:Even The Generic Ref got a one liner on you, Scotty. You're slipping.

SW: SO! (sulks for a second) LOOK! It's that guy that won the blue suede shoes! He just clocked Hellian! It's a Pearl Harbor job!

NH: He's putting the blue suede shoes to Gonzales, stomping away! Picking him up now, looks like he's going for an airplane spin, his legs buckling under the weight of the giant Hellian. Turning...OOOOOOOH! Diamond Cutter type thingee!

SW: I KNOW WHO THAT IS! That was the Jerkweed Death Drop!

(The unknown man rises, removes the fake sideburns and do-wop wig. Grabs a mic just as Kamikazie Ken enters wearing an oversized Armani suit,(probably a loaner) and casually walks to the ring with his hands in his pockets...like he's taking a stroll in the park. He quickly shimmies to the top turnbuckle)

SW: It's Steve Studnuts! The Elvis guy is Steve Studnuts! Look at Kamikazie...KEN-TAN BOMB! KEN-TAN BOMB! Gonzales has been punked out! Studnuts is holding a barely conscious Hellian up now as Ken fires in a couple punches to his face, now Steve has that mic again! And re-sets Ken's seperated shoulder as Hellian slumps to the canvas in a heap!

Studnuts: "Well, Smellian like Tamales...how'd you like your BOB welcome? (crowd boos) Listen, dirtbag...what goes around, comes around. When the Old Skool Killas and I were in the MWF...we got thrown the bone like Jenna Jamison. Got screwed. Now you're in our world, jerkweed...and the grass isn't greener over here. I'll tell ya what...pay close attention to the Rant Zone on your favorite local network in the coming days, and I'll give you a detailed description as to why I just handing you your short raft riding ass in a Zip-Loc baggie. (more boos)

SW: WHOA! This guy is cool!

NH: Shut up, Scotty. You like all heels.

Studnuts: Hellian, I don't want to waste anymore of my time. Watch Rant Zone, jerkweed. Now, if some of the BOB staff can roll this peice of shit out of the ring so the show can go on...I need to go change, this Elvis outfit is making me feel hella gay. (loud boos) Ken and I are late for a party at the night club...then we'll be having gratuitous, wanton lustful sex and busting a nut in hordes of nameless groupies. Can't be late. Ya dig? So the sooner this show is over, the sooner our night on the town begins. See ya 'round, raft boy. And I'll see you about 11 at the night club, Heidi. (loud boos)

SW: HEY! What was that about?

NH: I guess Steve holds a grudge against Hellian.

SW: No, I'm talking about you meeting him at the club!

NH: Jealous? And nobody said I was going to meet him anyway. (looks at watch) COME ON, MASKED ANNOUNCER...GET ON WITH IT!

MA: Lady and gentleman...THIS IS OUR MAIN EVENT! A 37 MAN BATTLE ROYAL! For the last spot in the ONLY WORLD TITLE TOURNAMENT THAT MATTERS!

SW: WOW! With the 63 men already entered, that bumps the total to 100 even! TAKE THAT! PCW and your wussy 64 man tournament!

MA: Here are the participants: THE HEAD TRAUMA BOYS, FLATLINE AND COMA!

(They bop to the ring, waving to the fans)

MA: THE WEEKEND WARRIOR!

(A man in cammo gear enters the ring, non-military haircut. Perhaps a Reservist)

MA: MARK DANGEROUS!

MA: MT. DEW MAN!

MA: THE AGENCY!

(Scudler and Mully enter to a loud cheer from some odd reason)

MA: THE FIRE CHIEF!

MA: STINKBUTT NASTYASS!

MA: Oh no. Why him?

MA: INSANO MANO!

SW: What?! Not another crazy luchador!

NH: You know, my Spanish isn't that great, but doesn't that loosely translate to Insane Hand?

SW: Maybe he has one of those volatile claw-like finishers like the Von Erichs.

NH: No, I really think he's going for the crazy luchador thing, Scotty. He's wearing a strait jacket with a picture of a foaming-at-the-mouth Taco Bell dog on it for Pete's sake...

SW: So, he's not Mexican?

NH: Was Nikita Koloff Russian?

MA: BILLY "THE BUTT" PLUGG!

MA: FEMININE MYSTIQUE

MA: ALTERNATE LIFESTYLE!

MA: THE BONE RANGER!

MA: ANUS INTUDER!

SW: Ass Club 7 well represented here...

MA: G.Q. SMOOVE!

(A black guy enters that is almost as annoying as K-Kwik)

MA: STREETMIME II!

MA: PRIVATE HOMICIDE!

SW: Huh?

NH: Couldn't get the rights to Sergeant Genocide...

MA: BIVALVE!

MA: THE DYSLEXIC AVENGER!

(A strange man wearing a super hero outfit enters and grabs the mic)

DA: "I everyone want the in ring listen me to! DAMMIT, I'm kick gonna ass everyone's!

(Masked Announcer grabs the stick and pushes him aside)

MA: CAPTAIN COMB OVER AND THE PERSIAN RUG!

(The folically challenged grapplers enter to a pity cheer)

MA: "SLIGHTLY GAY" RAY AND "TOO FAT" MATT!

MA: "CHARLIE"!

SW: What the hell?

NH: I guess since Kong got booted from the tournament, it's his last chance to get that title.

MA: PANDA-MONIUM!

(A pudgy Chinese guy enters wearing a panda suit. Crowd boos)

MA: SCUZZ LIGHTBEER!

SW: Hey look! It's former BOB announcer Scuzz!

NH: Why is he dressed like a space ranger and holding that can of Bud Light? I thought he drank Night Train...

SW: Beats me.

MA: THE IMMOVABLE OBJECT!

(A really fat guy enters)

MA: THE IRRESISTABLE FORCE!

(An even fatter fat guy enters)

SW: WOW! I HOPE THOSE TWO MEET! I always wondered what would really happen...

MA: THE FLUNKIE!

MA: MIKE "THE MONOTONE" MONROE!

SW: WHAT?! BigBOSS is really desperate for filler! I hope Mike gets his ass kicked! WHOO HOO

MA: ANAL KREVIS!

MA: THE LACKEY!

NH: Look, it's The Flunkie's older brother that ran away from home years ago.

MA: THE PHOBIC!

(A jittery fellow enters and cautiously gets in the over-crowded ring)

MA: AND FROM THE STWF!.....THATGUY!

(A deranged looking man is rolled to the ring in a wheelbarrow, he's dumped at rinside)

MA: AND SPECIAL GUEST...B.F. SACK!

SW: WHOA!

NH: Hey, one big name out of 36 jobbers isn't bad.

MA: LET'S GET IT ON!

SW: Wait, that's only 36...one more man has to enter...

(The crowd explodes as an Elvis looking wrestler runs to the ring)

SW: It's THE KING FROM THE STWF! THE KING IS IN THE BUILDING!

NH: You got to be kidding me...

Bell rings...

SW: Look! Monroe is already out! That's gotta be a record! HEY, MIKE...SEE YA MONDAY, WUSSY!

NH: At least he tried. Look at B.F Sack, he's tossing jobbers like a madman! Anal Krevis, "Charlie", are Captain Comb Over are also eliminated!

SW: The Dyslexic Avenger has Insano Mano in a collar and elbow tie-up? WHAT?! In a battle royal?!

NH: ThatGuy holding his jaw. I think he went for the Hideous Finger Bite and chomped down on Mully's Agent ring. There goes The Weekend Warrior...

SW: And Mt. Dew Man! He sucks! So does New Coke!

NH: Oh, brother...

*FRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!*

SW: Did somebody sit on a duck?

NH: Grow up, Scotty....OH....MY.....GOD (starts dry heaving)

SW: YEAH, BABY! SPEAK TO ME, OH TOOTHLESS ONE! HIDE THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN, STINKBUTT'S TALKING SHIT!

NH: That's....really gross. And watch your language, Scotty. This isn't Pay Per View.

SW: It may be gross, but it's effective! Look at that ring clear out! Guys are jumping out like crazy, some ain't even going over the top rope!

NH: I don't think it matters, and I don't think they're getting back in, either. That also includes some fans, that are also leaving...

SW: All of a sudden it's down to the Head Trauma Boys, Mully, and Stinkbutt Nastyass!

NH: Not for long, Mully and Stinkbutt just tumbled over the tope rope. It's down to Flatline and Coma for that last spot in the tournament. According to my script, it's time for the "Swerve Nobody Saw Coming".

SW: Hey, I don't have that on mine...how'd you get that? HEY! Where are you going?

(Nurse Heidi gets up on the ring apron)

NH: (in a sexy voice) Co-ma...isn't it about time to water Billy Bladwin's buffalo again?

Coma: Neep?

SW: Billy Baldwin? We're being over taken by Baldwins! RUN!

NH: Co-ma? Wa-ter the buff-a-lo....

SW: Coma's falling for it! What's Nurse Heidi doing? OOOOH! She Sunday punched him! On a Thursday even! Coma is out!

NH: Flaaaaaat-line...wanna go out?

Flatline: Uhhh, like, onna date? A-huh, a-huh.

NH: Yeeeeeeeeah, with me.

Flatline: Kewl! I'm like...gonna score and stuff.

(he starts to leave the ring)

NH: Uh-uh...OVER the top rope. Be a good boy...

Flatline: A-huh, a-huh. Duh... like, okay.

SW: THAT DORK FLATLINE ELIMINATED HIMSELF! COMA WINS! WHAT?! COMA WINS AND IS GOING TO THE TOURNAMENT TO FACE douja! That was the shortest battle royal with the most people I ever saw! Nurse Heidi with the double double cross to boot!

Flatline: Uhhhh, like, what about our date?

NH: Wait for it, sweetie...

SW: Fans, Nurse Heidi is leaving with Coma and we're out of time! For Nurse Heidi, I'm Scotty Whatbody...GOOD NIGHT from the Not as Good as Monday Thursday Night!

Flatline: Uh-rah. What about my date and stuff?


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