[Outside of the The Sinister Center in Sinister City, Utah Mike Monroe was standing with a microphone.]
MM: Death, can I get an interview, champ?
[Death walks right by Mike.]
MM: Well...I wasn't expecting that...Oh, look, it's Dr. Silaconne M. Plants just arriving. Let me go grab a word with--woah.
[Mike trips on the cord of his microphone and vanishes out of camera range. The camera finds him face down on the pavement. Slowly, he lifts his head off the pavement.]
MM: That hurt. Sil? Sil? Heidi? Little help?
[Plants and Heidi walk by.]
SMP: Did you hear something?
SMP: Heidi, I said did you hear something?
[There is a faint sound of drums and a trumpet. It gets louder. The camera turns to see a marching band approaching.]
MM: Oh, shi--
[In a hallway backstage, Trey Vincent was walking with a beer in one hand. He stopped when he got to a door with the words "The Great" on it. Trey knocked and went inside. The camera swings around to show Soem Guy In A Mask staring at the door. After a few seconds, there is a noise from behind as Trey exits The Great's room. The camera swings around. Trey is smiling. His beer? Gone!]
TV: It's good to be Vice President In Charge of Everything.
[Trey walks away. Slowly, Soem Guy In A Mask stalks after him.]
[We head inside the arena where a near sold-out crowd is waiting in the arena for New Horizon to begin. "I Don't Like the Drugs (But the Drugs Like Me)" by Marilyn Manson hits.]
Crowd: You're stoned! You're stoned! You're stoned!
[Kurt Angel steps out, chomping on a tooth guard that says "I Wish This Was Weed." He heads down the aisle, yelling "Yeah!" over and over, while walking with a noticeable limp.]
Styles: Hello everyone, and welcome to New Horizon! I'm Mikey Styles.
SW: And I'm Scotty Whatbody. I have two predictions for tonight, Styles.
SW: One. This show is going to suck.
Styles: That's a pretty safe bet.
SW: And I bet that this coming week, we'll hear of a young actor dying.
Styles: Can't you be a little more specific?
SW: I'm seeing...Heath...Ledger? Who the fuck is that?
Styles: Yeah, right. Heath Ledger is going to die? Please. That has no chance of coming true.
SW: Gotta love late shows, huh?
SW: Oh, Kurt's doing his impersonation of rolling a joint as he gets in the ring, playing the part of the weed.
[Kurt grabs the microphone from Nurse Heidi.]
Kurt Angel: One month ago, I was assaulted, people. And let me just say...it was awesome. Those drugs they gave me at the vet had me flying high! Yeah! It was a hallucination...a DAMN hallucination!
Crowd: You're stoned! You're stoned! You're stoned!
KA: Not false, not false. So tonight, as a thank you to that guy, Viruz, get your butt out here and send me back to the vet! Yeah!
Styles: The blue-eyed junkie wants some of Viruz. But for the strangest reason I've ever heard.
SW: Makes sense to me. If you can't afford the drugs, get beat up so badly they have to legally give you painkillers. Hey, what's this loser doing here?
Styles: Ben Joss? We thankfully haven't seen you in YEARS!
SW: What, do you have Styles old gimmick of announcing matches for Hierarchy guys?
Styles: Hold on! Viruz just ran in the ring. There it is! The Viruz Scan! The dragon sleeper is locked in! Oh man! That's gonna do some damage to Kurt's often-injured neck.
KA: Owwww! Yeah! Owwww! It hurts! It DAMN hurts!
Styles: Kurt isn't making any sense. Generic Ref lifts up Kurt's arm. It drops? He got him?
SW: One arm drop? I thought it was three?
Styles: The rule varies, apparently.
NH: Here is your winner, as a result of a submission, Viruz!
SW: And there's your real winner, as a result of getting some great horse tranquilizers from the vet's office. Kurt Angel. Everyone's a winner tonight, Styles. Except the viewers.
Styles: As usual...
SW: What was that, 10 seconds?
Styles: I doubt it was even that long. Kurt was in no condition to wrestle tonight. He's lucky to be alive after what the Hierarchy did to him last month.
SW: Him? Lucky to be alive? C'mon. That's a major stretch.
Styles: Viruz makes quick work of Kurt in our opener. But I doubt we've seen the end of this rivalry. Especially if Kurt enjoys the severe beatings.
SW: There's a former ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. Be proud to work here. *Sigh*
Styles: But at least we didn't have to hear from you, Ben.
[Threedom was standing by with Mike Monroe backstage.]
MM: Little Good, you've got quite the challenge tonight. You've got to face Soem Guy In A Mask.
LG: You're bloody right I do.
Alex Smith: What about the financial armageddon that the global elite scum are manufacturing? Now that's a challenge. A challenge that only Ron Paul is up for! Join the revolution! Join freedom. They killed Lennon. They killed King. They killed Kennedy. They kill anybody who promotes love and peace. But if everyone promotes love and peace, they can't get us all, folks. Love your family, love your wife, love you kids, live clean, and they can't touch you! How many more need to die in needless wars in Iraq and false flag self-inflicted wounds like 9/11 before you wake up? Maybe you want even wake up until you're cooking in a FEMA camp oven!
AS: Soem Guy, you democracy-hating bootlicker, you're going down you SCUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!
RM: He hates democracy?
RM: Fuck you, fucker.
["Lies Lies Lies" by Ministry plays.]
NH: The following is a match. Introducing first, Little Good.
[Little Good walks down the aisle, smoking a cigarette.]
Styles: Little Good is set to wrestle the mysterious Soem Guy In A Mask.
SW: One thing my boys forgot to mention is that Soem Guy can't even spell.
Styles: Does he have to be able to spell when he's got such a fine ass, Scotty?
SW: Don't start that shit again, Styles! I'm not gay for Soem Guy. Or ANY guy!
Styles: Last month we almost found out who he is as the iAd tried to drug him so they could unmask him.
SW: Maybe Little Good can unmask him. I'm just dying to know what jobber we repackaged into this gimmick.
Styles: So you can go out with him?
SW: Stop saying that! I'm not Da Sassy Bitch!
["Soemwhere I Belong" by Linkin Park plays next.]
NH: And his opponent. From Soemwhere. This is Soem Guy In A Mask.
Styles: Have you seen Soem Guy tonight?
SW: No. Why would I?
Styles: I'm not implying anything. Hold on. I'm being told that Soem Guy was indeed spotted backstage stalking Trey Vincent? Well...as we wait for Soem Guy In A Mask, Little Good's taking a smoking break. And this is a nonsmoking arena.
SW: What a rebel. He's so bad.
Styles: Still no sign of Soem Guy?
LG: Hey, mate, count him out.
Generic Ref: Count? Awww!
Styles: That's the last thing Generic Ref wanted to do tonight. Try and count to ten.
SW: Kindergartners laugh at Generic Ref.
Styles: Here goes the attempt.
Generic Ref: One! ...... Two! .......
Generic Ref: Three! .................uh......TEN!
SW: The fuck? Two matches, two total nothing matches? What a way to kick off the new year.
NH: Here is your winner as a result of a countout....Little Good.
Styles: It's Soem Guy! Soem Guy is here!
SW: Ewww...Little Good's just been raked.
Styles: Did you say raped?
Styles: You're right, thankfully! Liittle Good just got blasted over the head with a wooden rake. And now Soem Guy is pummeling Soem Guy. What is this all about?
SW: Maybe his car broke down and he just got here?
Styles: Somersault connects on Little Good, who is bleeding profusely. Low blow by Soem Guy. What is up with this? Little Good needs some help.
SW: Soem help.
Styles: That's what I said.
SW: No it isn't. Three at last! Three at last. Lord all mighty, Three at last. Oh yeah, let Threedom ring!
Styles: That is terrible, Scotty.
SW: MLK is da bomb. But where is Threedom? I thought they'd be out here by now?
Styles: Little Good is draped over the middle rope. And there it is! The 555! Here comes soem help, but it isn't for Little Good. Threedom must have been jumped by Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano backstage.
SW: Damn Mexicans.
Styles: Ken isn't Mexican.
SW: Damn illegal immigrants. I'm emailing Lou Dobbs about this shit! I can't lose my manager's fee! Alex! Randall! Get out here and fight for Threedom!
Styles: What is this? A cable just lowered from the ceiling? Who set that up? And now The Fall Of Man is hooking Little Good's legs to the cable. Oh no. He's being lifted up.
SW: Little Good's not a pinata. They don't even have pinatas in England!
Styles: The Fall Of Man is blasting away on the bloody Little Good. Finally, here come Alex Smith and Randall Mooby. But those rakes quickly take both men out.
SW: Crap. Well, it was great to steal their money while they were healthy. Guess it's time to find a new protege.
Styles: Just like that?
SW: I'm not paying their hospital bills.
Styles: You're terrible.
SW: I've got to save my money for the strip clubs. I have priorities.
Styles: Smith just got blasted with his own bullhorn. And Mooby's getting assaulted with a spatula. Threedom has been wiped out and bloodied. Three more men have fallen at the hands of the Fall Of Man. Certainly, they are living up to their name.
SW: I wonder if Soem Guy wants me to take him under my wing. I see big things for this stable.
Styles: And now, as is their trademark, three bodies, three rakes. Smith, Mooby and Little Good are left under rakes.
SW: They've just been raked. And the crowd here is giving these heels the love.
Styles: Is this an omen of things to come?
SW: What? Short matches with crappy finishes? Yeah, I'd say so with BOB's history. Plus, Michelle isn't here.
Styles: Trey's booking? God save us all.
[Mike Monroe is backstage with Kay Fabe and Misty Waters.]
MM: Ladies, it's just about that time. Are you ready for the first ever Match of Ten Thousand Pillows?
MW: You bet.
[They walk off.]
MM: Wow, they're in rare form tonight. I'd hate to be Nikki Mantle and Rose tonight.
SW: I wouldn't! Woohoo!
MM: Back to you guys.
Nurse Heidi: The following contest is the first ever "Match of Ten Thousand Pillows"!
SW: Woo-hoo! Now we're talkin'!
Styles: Settle down, tiger...
Good ol' Ben Joss: Folks, this one oughta be one catch-em-as-you-can-catch, mama-said-knock-you-down-drag-out, hell-fahr-raisin', tuna-bakin', slap-yer-kocker son-of-a-wash-yer-mouth-out-with-soap BAH GAWD BAH GAWD RATTLESNAKE~!!! match.
Styles + SW: ...
NH: First, now residing in 'Parts Unknown'... former Swiss Army Champion, and formerly possesed by the ghost of Chris Benoit... Kay Fabe! And her tag team partner, weighing in at 129 lbs, soaking wet -
Scotty: Wet? Which part? I hope it's what I'm thinking of!!!
Nurse Heidi: - Misty Waters!
[A remix of "Fuck and Run" and "Rising Sun" hits, which I'm being told is called "Fuck and Run after the Rising Sun".]
Steve Leary (Voice): Brilliant!
[Kay and Misty emerge through the curtains. The male fans in attendance get up for one of those rare occasions. Of course, when I say "get up," I mean their feet are still on the ground...]
SW: WOO-HOO! A lesbian and a porn star! Now THIS is what I call a tag team! Maybe Kay can be in Misty's next film... hopefully with me as a stand-in!
Styles: Keep the dream alive, Scotty...
NH: And their opponents...
[Darkness consumes ringside... The Screen flickers to life... The vision of a woman's eyes appears, and the sound of footsteps can be heard... Soon, the eyes close... and this image is replaced by that of a room filled with candles... Flyleaf's "All Around Me" begins to play... Through the songs first words, the room of candles slowly begins to spin... till its a whirlwind of flame... and as soon as the words "I'm alive... I'm alive..." are heard, pyro blasts off on stage, and the words "Believe or Be Left" appear on the Screen. The lights return to the arena, and Nikki comes out, stopping... and the Queen of Darkness, Rose... is nowhere to be seen??? "All Around Me" continues, as Nikki continues to walk toward the pillow filled ring area... Misty and Kay stand at the front of the ring, doubling up their fists, preparing for a fight with the studly female... when suddenly, from behind, Rose slams a throw pillow over the back of both women's heads.]
Styles: What a cheap shot!
SW: Aw well, as you know Mikey, all's fair in love and porn. I mean... war. That's what I was thinking of...
Styles: Suuure. Anyway ladies and gentlmen, the rules of this match are simple. The ring has been surrounded by pillows of every variety, and over each corner post hangs a pillowcase. Inside three of the four pillowcases are three seperate weapons, while inside the fourth pillowcase is a size double 'X' bra. The first team to snatch-
Styles: - the bra, will be declared the winners.
SW: Sounds like my kind of match! Hundreds of pillows around the ring, four pillowcases hanging OVER the ring, and eight wonderful, bouncing pillows duking it out IN the ring!
Styles: This match was just MADE to be called by you, huh Scotty.
SW: You got THAT right! Yipee! Breasts! Ass! Titties! Nice, tight, butt... WOO-HOO~!
Styles: I think Scotty's going to have a heart attack sitting at ringside one of these days... For those interested in the actual ACTION of this match, Rose and Nikki are taking it to Misty and Kay early on here, thanks to Rose and Nikki's underhanded scheme. Rose has already brought in a few throw pillows, travel pillows, neck pillows, even some sofa cushions. Nikki grabs a pillow -
SW: Something I'm sure she's used to doing...
Styles: Oh stop it!
SW: She'll probably wind up grabbing Kay's pillows before the match is over. Not that Kay would mind...
Styles: Nikki reels back, and swings the pillow straight into the head of Misty, with the force of one of her mighty softball bat swings, nearly taking off Misty's head! Misty is left sprawled out on the canvas, and Nikki is heading to a corner, to perhaps introduce one of the weapons to the match, or perhaps find the XX Bra...
SW: What in the HELL is... OH MY GOD!!!
Styles: Hey! That's my line! But am I seeing this right, or... is that...
BJ: As God as my witness, that dildo is gonna break Misty in half!!!
SW: HAHA!!! YES! HLA! HLA! HLA! Hopefully with Rose and Kay joining in!!!
Styles: Oh dear lord... Nikki has pulled a STRAP-ON DILDO from one of the pillowcases.
SW: Trust me, that can be used as a weapon. Those things hurt.
Styles: ... And you know this because... ?
SW: ... Er...
BJ: BAH GAWD!
Styles: My point, exactly... Nikki grabs the dildo in her... hands. Egh... With Misty's legs spread apart as she lays unconcious on the mat, Nikki lifts the phallic device high into the air... and...
BJ: KAY BOTTOM! KAY BOTTOM! KAY BOTTOM! BAH GAWD, HOLY MOTHER LOVIN' PANCAKE EATIN' JIMMY JACK JESUS ABOVE, KAY BOTTOM!!!!!~1
Styles: Kay has just hit her 'Bottom', on the ambigous T&A Division Champ, slamming her into the mat, right before she was about to ram... well...
SW: Awww... And I wanted to see that... Kay! Pick up the dildo! USE THE DILDO! Preferably on MISTY!
Styles: Kay is moving toward another corner, and another possible weapon... or possibly the XX Bra. But wait a minute! Rose has a got a BEANBAG CHAIR!
BJ: This could do it, folks! I can tell ya right now, that beanbag chair ain't made out ah candy!
SW: ... What?
Styles: Candy, Scotty... just nod your head 'yes', and pretend he makes sense.
Styles: Rose is rushing toward Kay with the beanbag chair... she raises it over her head, and takes a swing... but Kay hits a drop-toe-hold! Rose drops forward, and she slams face first into the bean-filled chair! With her opponent on the mat, Kay heads up top, and brings down another pillowcase... she reaches in... and pulls out...
SW: What is that... Is that a framed picture of Axl? ... Half-naked... Eww... I need to go wash my eyes out... Or maybe claw them out...
Styles: Obviously placed in there by Rose. Maybe three of these four women has chosen a weapon to place inside a pillowcase?
SW: Well, I guess we know the strap-on belongs to Nikki. She's probably been saving it for an occasion just like this...
Styles: Oh brother...
SW: And maybe the bra's one from Misty's personal lingerie collection! I wonder if it's been involved with any of her classic, cinematic masterpieces?! Like "Loverfield" or "The Fuck It List."
Styles: Oh, calm down already...
SW: Somebody PLEASE use the strap-on! It's RIGHT over there, just BEGGING to be used! Oh BABY!
Styles: While Scotty lays close to the verge of a stroke, let's at least try and focus on this -
BJ: AXL SHOT! AXL SHOT! BAH GAWD, AXL SHOT!
Styles: Indeed, Kay just slammed that framed picture of Axl over the head of Rose. The head of Axl's girlfriend has been left sticking through the tattered remnants. And now, Kay has just speared Rose, back-first, into the corner, before slamming a few shoulder shots into the Gothic Beauty's gut. Meanwhile, on the other side of the squared-circle, Misty is propped up in the opposite corner, with Nikki towering over her... sending straight fists, one after the other, into the skull of the porn star. Nikki looks up, and finds a third pillowcase looming overhead... she pulls it down, reaches in, and secures... what in the hell is that?
SW: It looks like some kinda... magic spell book?
Styles: Wow... must be Kay's, right? Well, either way, Nikki reads through the book, until she comes upon something... The muscularly-built softball player reads from the tome...
Nikki: Ninth Wonder-us... Walt-manicus... Celeb-box-inucus... Female-penis-iticus!!!
SW: ... What kinda fucked up magic words are - WHAT THE-?!?!
BJ: Bah Gawd, folks, that woman is a HOSS!!!
Styles: Ladies and Gentlemen... Nikki has just transformed into Joanie Laurer... this is just...
SW: Now... I've seen everything. One manly woman has turned into an even MANLIER woman... yeesh.
Styles: Chyna/Nikki/Whatever IT is, hoists Misty over her head, into a gorrila press slam... and drops the poor girl flat on her not-so-flat chest. "The 9th Wonder of the World" then turns her attention to Kay, who is still in the other corner, using her boot to choke out Rose. Chyna/Nikki storms over, whips Kay around, and the Wiccan looks a bit shocked by what lays before her...
SW: I would too... Kay may be into women, but I don't think that THING is her type... hell, she's noone's type... except for guys whose names starts with a 6 or an X...
Styles: I dunno... XXXTreme may be dumb... but...
SW: Not THAT guy whose name starts with an X... but really, I think even Machine wouldn't be THAT desperate. ... Maybe.
Styles: Maybe if Massive Man was still possesed by the ghost of Eddie...
SW: Meh. I think Eddie can find better tail in heaven... I wonder if Anna Nicole is up "there"... or down...
Styles: Well, back to the match -
SW: And if she IS up there, I wonder if she looks like when she was actually, ya know... hot. Or if she looks all fat, and ugly, and -
Styles: SCOTTY! Kay goes for a punch, but Chyna/Nikki blocks it, and twists Kay's fist around, applying pressure, almost into a bit of a submission hold. Kay goes for a kick while Chyna/Nikki is grabbing onto her fist... but the "9th Wonder" grabs her leg as well! Chyna/Nikki then pulls in Kay... and rips into her with a simply vicous clothesline, sending her colliding with the canvas. Chyna/Nikki then picks up the Wiccan, tosses her between her legs, picks her up... and this COULD be a huuuge powerbomb, which might end the match!
SW: Wait a minute... Misty has the book!
Misty: Hand-birthicus... Saggin'-puppy-cus!
Styles: OH MY GOD! Chyna/Nikki just transformed into MAE YOUNG/Nikki! And with that, Kay falls right on top of the now frail Nikki... squashing her under Kay's weight.
Mae/Nikki: I've fallen, and I can't get up!
SW: Eww... one nasty looking woman just turned into an even nastier looking woman... this match is starting to not look so boner-ific...
Styles: You can say that again -
SW: This match is starting to-
Styles: Misty heads up top... she reaches for the final pillowcase, and I'm pretty sure we all know what that one contains... But hold on, Rose just got up from her beating at the hands of Kay... Rose removes Kay from the decimated body of Mae Young/Nikki... Rose tosses Kay over the top rope, and she turns to Misty... The Queen of Darkness heads over to Misty, and grabs her by a foot, JUST as she's about to pull down the pillowcase!
SW: Oh yeah! Spank that ass!
Styles: Rose mounnting--
Styles: The ropes.
Styles: Misty and Rose trading shots. Rose...OH MY GOD! The Thorn just connected! Or, at least, a sick variation of her DDT finisher. Cover! One! Two! Three. Damn!
SW: Trey's not gonna like this. He had big things in store for her head later tonight.
Styles: What an impressive victory for Rose and Nikki here.
SW: Impressive and a bit disgusting.
Styles: No doubt. Nikki Mantle better watch out. Axl's Rose just might be out ta get her.
SW: I'd love Rose to take me down to Paradise City.
[Thanks to the magic of horrible editing, XXXtreme Machine, Coma, Pete Trable and Trey Vincent are all in the ring.]
NH: The following is a four-way Unprotected Chair Shots to the Skull match? What?
Styles: Oh dear lord. What is Trey doing?
SW: Hey, if TNA can live with itself doing these sorts of matches, so can Trey.
Styles: Neither of their standards are particularly high.
TV: Excuse me, Heidi. Hit the bricks before I show you my Randy Moss impersonation.
TV: Now, this show is going too long. I need to move this along. Alright, guys. Really simple rules to this match. Only I am allowed to wield a chair in this match. You will form a line, accept your chairshots like a man, and continue until you can no longer stand up.
PT: Yo! That ain't right.
TV: Yeah, well, I'm the boss, so I can do whatever I want.
PT: You gonna get yours.
TV: Never! I'm unstoppable. Now let's do this thing. Because everybody loves chair shots in 2008!
[Big pop from the crowd.]
TV: Head trauma's funny, right, Coma?
Coma: What's the order, Alex Bernier? Poink!
Styles: And Trey's got his chair.
Styles: And down goes Coma. Damn!
Styles: Here comes XXXtreme Machine.
Styles: And down goes XXXtreme Machine.
SW: Hey, no fair! Trable just attacked Trey.
Styles: And Generic Ref is calling for a DQ?
SW: Damn straight! You can't have somebody using illegal fists. You want Trey to get a concussion?
Styles: I think Trable was trying to avoid one!
TV: iAd, we runnin this BOB shit
Steve Studnuts, we runnin this BOB shit
Seth Harker, we runnin this BOB shit
Pete Trable, you just are shit
Yo, Pete, you must be from Dimension Z
Cuz you just got punked out from the Q to the D!
You can't piss on this stable, jobba
Styles: Oh, brother. Ice Trey returns.
PT: Yo home, Gay Vincent and the AIDS want beef?
Michelle told me you can't even cock your weapon, chief
Styles: Oh my god. Trable just got blasted by that shot. Is this a match? What in the hell is going on?
SW: I think XXXtreme Machine and Coma are still in this since they aren't cheaters.
SW: Never mind.
Styles: Trey just unloaded with chair shots on everybody in the ring.
SW: Trey wins! Hooray!
Styles: Was there ever any doubt he'd book himself to win? He skewed the rules so there was no way he could lose.
NH: Here is your winner, the Vice President in Charge of Everything, Trey Vincent!
TV: One more time, Heidi!
NH: I thought you said the show was running long?
TV: Well...there's always time for more Trey!
NH: *Sigh* Here is your winner, the Vice President in Charge of Everything, Trey Vincent.
[We open inside a brick room with chains hanging from the ceiling. The heavy, sharp sound of a whip fills the air and echoes off the walls. A woman with cuts all over her back is lying on the floor as a man with a handlebar moustache sits on her.]
Man: How's that feel?
Jerri: Get the studded paddle.
[The man walks towards a cupboard on the wall and opens the wooden door. Inside is something that looks like a pink circle on a stick. The woman flicks her hair past the ear.]
Man: You want it on the ass or the back of the head this time?
Jerri: You'd be my dream man if you did both.
[We cut to the woman's face as she cries out in both pain and ecstasy. She has pins in her lips and tongue that clang together whilst her eyes roll into the back of her head.]
Jerri: Like that!
[The scene cuts to black for a few moments before fading to the breakfast table. The woman is wearing a white bathrobe with a nautical emblem on it. She pours herself a glass of milk and downs it in two. Her feet plod along the floor, covered in bruises, as she goes to wash up. She stares through the window as the milky water spirals down the sink.]
Jerri: These men come and go but I'm always left alone.
[She lets out a gentle sigh before idly flicking her television on. An episode of BOB is playing where two women are rolling around the ring, hitting the back of each others' heads into the mat and clawing every part of the body with razor sharp nails. A smile creeps up on Jerri's pierced, bruised and scabby face.]
Caption: Jerry Li....Coming Soon...
Caption: To BOB! I meant, to BOB.
Nurse Heidi: The following contest is the "Pick Your Own Lumberjacks" match, and will determine the #1 Contender for the Only World Title That Matters!
Styles: We're being joined, once more, by the Hierarchy's lead commentator, Good ol' Ben Joss.
SW: Ben, could you tell everyone at home your initials?
Ben: Well, bah gawd folks, it's Good ol' BJ!
Styles: I don't see what this has to do -
SW: BJ!!! As in, I'd like Nurse Heidi to give me a big ol' sloppy BJ!
Nurse Heidi: I can hear you, Scotty! I've got a microphone in my hand, and I am NOT afraid to use it!
SW: Wrong rip-off, Ben. But you're not kiddin'... Why don't we forget about the match and spend the next twenty minutes watching Heidi strip!
Nurse Heidi: Or we could watch Jim and Axl take turns kicking your ass?
SW: ... Go right ahead with the introduction. Bitch...
Nurse Heidi: Dick. ... FIRST, from Kent, Ohio... he is one half of Re-Generation X, and is being accompanied by his lumberjacks; Da Sassy Bitch, Jean Bannister, Sir Hungalot, Brandon "Bitch Smacker", and Hardcore JJ... he IS... "Totally Packaged" JIM!!!
["Regeneration X (random screaming BoB catchphrase mix)" plays on the speakers, as the fans in the Sinister Center are coming alive... well, atleast the female contingent. Jim emerges through the curtains, flanked by his personally selected outside enforcers.]
Styles: Listen to that crowd roar!
SW: Oh yeah, more like 'squeel'... buncha friggin' teenage girls. Why don't they squeel like that when I come to the desk?
Styles: Maybe because they're not into the whole 'perverted, middle-aged man' thing, I dunno.
SW: I am NOT middle-aged! I'll have you know I'm... I'm 21! In fact... I just turned 21 last Monday! ... And just in case any women around my age, around as in 19, 18... 17 with parents' consent... would like to chat, my AIM screen-name is 'email@example.com'.
Styles: You're one desperate little man, Scotty...
BJ: Folks, we gots you one helluva whipper-snapper fer all yall right'chere too-night! Too-night, right'chere, in this here ver-ah ring, we're-ah gonna be seein' a dad gum 12 man Classix Survivor : China : Series Elimee-nation match-up contest of wrasslin' skill! "The Total Packaged" Jim Luger, along with that der Five Disciples of Christ, is gonna be takin' on the one and only "CONE STOLD! CONE STOLD! BAH GAWD CONE STOLD!" Axl, along with his team pardners, Da Sissified Bitch, John "Scawlded Dawg" Banndito, Mr. Sir Hungalot... Sir Hungalot, Brandon "Done Got Smacked Like a Bitch" Smackerbitch, an' ah course, HARDCORE JJ! HARDCORE JJ! BAH GAWD, HARDCORE JJ!!! All that, plus HELLFAHR AND BRIMSTONE LIGHT!!!~1, right after these hahr commercialized adver-ee-tisements of break-ocitude!
Styles / SW: ...
Styles: Did you make out a word he just said, Scotty?
SW: Not a one...
Styles: On that note, as Jim enters the ring and his chosen lumberjacks surround it, let's head over to Heidi for the other half of the intro's...
Nurse Heidi: And his opponent...
Voice: Hold on just ONE moment there, blasphemer!
Styles: What's the meaning of this, now? It seems as though someone is coming to the ring with a microphone... wait, is that Axl's girlfriend Rose?
SW: Well, she's wearing black nails, black lips, black EVERYTHING... I think I see a few cut marks on her arm... either she's Rose, or Eliza bleached her hair. Either way, she may be a total poser, but hell... I'd hit it.
BJ: Folks, it looks like the Queen of the Hierarchy has a few words on her mind, and Bah GAWD, she's a hoss!
SW: ... A hoss?
BJ: A hoss a-fahr!
SW: ... ?
Styles: Just ignore him, Scotty. Rose steps in front of Nurse Heidi, and by the look in her eye, I'd say Heidi may want to move aside...
SW: What, are you insane?! I say let 'em go at it! Hasn't it been too long since you called a CATFIIIGHT~!!!
Styles: Well, it appears as though Heidi has decided to let Rose take the ring. Let's see what she has to say.
Rose: Ladies and gentlemen... the gallows of remorse have split wide open, and from the belly of a thousand hell-born crosses, a single savior has set foot inside the ring of salvation. He and he ALONE shall bring unto these lands what that thee thou doth should be called but yet not called... Rise to your filthy feet, you BLASPHEMOUS wretches... and gives many thanks unto your LORD! This IS his destiny... This is his CALLING... This... is... Axl.
[As these last words escape Rose's mouth, the lights flicker... before shutting off. Moments pass... A chill fills the air... Fans go to the bathroom... And somewhere, a lone wolf bayes at the full moon's glow. The screen fills with static... before... a shining ring of light cuts through a screen of pure black... This ring soon begins to drip crimson red blood... and a pair of ominous eyes peer through the ring's center. Suddenly, a burst of flame rocks the stage, and a ring of flame rises from the steel... The lights return, albeit dimly... and awash in a dark red hue. Through the curtain there emerges four men... two on either side of the crackling ring of fire. Mathew, Mark, Luke, and Jack surround the ring's prescence... as a fifth figure, that of the newly "reborn" Prophet, rises from the ring of fire, and walks through the flame, emerging without a scratch. And as Prophet walks through the fire, almost as if being "baptized", he makes his way to the ring... the Disciples following behind, single file. As they make it to the bottom of the ramp, Jim and his lumberjacks staring holes into each of them... music begins to play.]
["I Am Evil" by Darc-Soulz fills the speakers, filling the air with a harsh, industrial style rock beat that all the hip and trendy goth kids just LOVE wallowing in self-pity to. Kinda catchy... Towers of fire rocket on either side of the already present ring of fire... and the ring's flames lash out high into the air... before returning to their previous level, and when they do, Axl is standing amidst their heat. Jeez... I guess, this being Axl's hometown, he was able to rake up a few extra bucks for his entrance, ya think? Talk about an ego-MANIAC...]
Axl: I am not!
[Just get to the damn ring already, will ya?]
Axl: Aw... I never get tah have no fun... Well, I have a poem. It is the tome in which I have placed all of my true feelings of this match... and what it means to me. Listen... with your heart, your soul, your body, and your mind. Listen... and listen well.
Axl: Life is a cruel mistress...
Death, it's only escape...
I feel the taste of the fire upon my flesh... burning...
This is the Truth... the life of death, and death amongst life.
With this dagger I do thee spread... blood.
And now... the ring I stand wence...
Shall lead to the ring of which I shall enter,
To face my foe...
To defeat my foe...
To conquer my foe...
Axl: And to Live immortally... through my greatness.
Axl: All those that are with me, shall be spared...
And shall have eternal life, through mine.
And those that do not-eth? Shan't be spared...
And shan't have eternal life... through mine.
Axl: Look into my eyes... then... and only then,
Shall thee Believe... or Be Left Behind.
[Are we done yet?]
Axl: And with a thousand million hundred skulls of burning fire and blackness and evil of the evil-est evil...
I am done. And I'm going to ring, and it's because I want to, and not because you TOLD me to. Stupid-head...
[Axl steps through the fire... which is PROP fire, by the way!]
Axl: Hey! It is not, it's REAL fire! I bought it from a NOVELTY store!
Axl: Novelties! You know, things that are authentic? Like that dog crap I saw. And the handcuffs!
[... Axl makes it to the ring... finally... and stands in front of his men... looking up at Jim. Jim advances... and Axl quickly rushes behind Prophet and the Disciples.]
Styles: Oh come on! Axl finally makes it down to the ring, and now he's pulling this? I can already see where this one's headed...
SW: Down the toilet? I think that bowl flushed a looong time ago...
Styles / Scotty: ...
Styles: Oh... k. It looks as if Axl is finally starting to get in the ring... he slides in, and Jim goes for a stomp... but before it connects, Axl rolls right back out of the ring!
SW: God, what a pussy. And not the good kind, the bad, sissy kind.
Styles: Yeah, the kind that you actually know a little about. Being one and all, ya know.
SW: Yeah, I - ... Wait. ... HEY!
Styles: Good reaction time, there. And it seems as though Axl is walking over to Rose, who's sitting in a chair a few feet away from our broadcast position. Axl starts hugging his girlfriend, as she comforts him and gives him encouragement. Does this thing have a time limit, by any chance?
SW: One can only hope so...
BJ: FRENCH-FRIED PAH-TATERS!
[Axl continues hugging Rose, when Jim has had enough and decides to join Axl on the outside. Jim walks toward Axl's turned back... right before the "Savior" quickly runs behind Rose, in her chair, as Jim stops in his tracks.]
Axl: WHAT?! You're going to hit a woman, huh?! Is THAT how the game's played?! Hitting a defenseless woman?! SHAME!!!
Jim: Me? Hit a woman? Nahhh. But then again -
[Suddenly, Rose is speared from the side into the barricade, by none other than Da Sassy One. DSB and Rose begin rolling around on the ground, clawing and tearing at one another...]
Styles: CAT FIGHT! CAT FIGHT! CAT FIIIGHT!!!
SW: SEE, I knew you liked a good cat fight when you saw one. Of course, I could do without half of the equation being male...
Styles: Da Sassy Bitch and Rose fight all the way to the back... but wait, that leaves Axl with five lumberjacks, but Jim with only four!
SW: Trust me, with jobbers like those guys as lumberjacks, Axl doesn't have that much of an advantage...
Styles: Nevertheless, with Axl's shield out of the way, Jim is FINALLY taking it to the man who deems himself our "Lord". Seriously, if there's ever been one guy more full of himself...
SW: Jim just snapmared Axl over his shoulder, and now he's putting on a dragon sleeper. If these two were in the ring, I bet it wouldn't be too long before the bell was rung and Jim picked up the #1 Contendership.
Styles: But here comes Mathew and Mark. Mathew has a chair, and Mark a lead pipe. Matt lifts the chair overhead, but Jim quickly releases the dragon sleeper, before hitting a vicous superkick, kicking the chair right back into the Disciple's face. The other Disciple, Mark, speeds toward Jim with the pipe, but Jim easily back body drops Axl's follower up and over the barricade, into a fan who was holding a drink... the drink spilling all over Mark!
Fan: HEY! I was drinking that! You're gonna pay, ya damn jobber!
SW: Ha! And now the jobber's being beaten the crap out of by a FAN! This is getting better by the second!
Styles: And the fan tosses Mark back over the barricade. Jim now has Axl in a sharpshooter, but he's not going to win it out here.
BJ: HARDCORE JJ! HARDCORE JJ! BAH GAWD, HARDCORE JJ!
SW: What are you on about - Hey! BJ's right, JJ just Dropped both Luke AND Jack on the other side of the ring! And now he's pulling them by the ear up the ramp!
Hardcore JJ: Mommy said it's JJ's bedtime, so you two sumbitches are gonna haffta come with me. I'm gonna open up a few cans before JJ's mama reads him his favorite sumbitchin' bedtime story! And that's the last line, cuz my mommy said so!
Styles: Well, there goes both JJ, and the two Disciples Luke and Jack. So now, we're left with the Prophet, Mark and Mathew on Axl's side, and Brandon and Pain & Pleasure over on Jim's.
SW: Geez, I wonder if the lumberjacks are even gonna make it to the end of the match?
Styles: At this rate? I'd say... highly unlikely. Jim has rolled Axl back into the ring, and he goes for the pin, this should do it.
Generic Ref: 1... 2... ... uh... 2... ... ... 2... Dammit, I really need to write this down on my hand when I come out here or something. Of course, I can't read... or write.
[Jim stands up, and shoves the ref.]
Jim: What, can you not count to three?!
Generic Ref: Well, actually, to tell ya the truth -
Styles: OH MY GOD! Axl just rolled Jim up from behind! He's got the one! The two! And -
BJ: OH BAH GAWD!!!~! As Gawd as my witness, that hockey stick is broken in HALF!
Styles: Jean Bannister has just intterupted the count with a hockey stick to the head of Axl, which indeed, is broken in half. Will there be a disqualification, though?
SW: ... You're kidding, right?
Generic Ref: I'll allow it!
SW: Who didn't see THAT one coming...
Styles: Jean picks up Axl and whips him into the ropes... on the return, he lifts him up in a flapjack, and WOW! Sir Hungalot comes out of nowhere, following up on the move in some sort of Dudley-esque Deathdrop-style move of some sort!
SW: Oh come now, Mike, I think everyone knows what it is! It's the Drudley Deathdrop of Doom!
Styles: Shhh! We could get sued that way! Ever since Rubba and Devan had to start putting the Brother at the begginning of their names, that move has been renamed.
SW: So what is it now?
Styles: The BROTHER Deathdrop of Doom.
SW: ... That makes a whole helluva lotta sense...
Styles: The Big Sir and Bannister slap fives... just before being simultaneously clotheslined over the top rope by Matt and Mark. The four men brawl into the crowd, and away from the ring... wait, does that mean...
SW: Now both Jim and Axl both only have ONE lumberjack! And speaking of which, Brandon just snuck up behind Prophet... BITCH-BREAKER!!! That Bitch Got BROKE!
Styles: Yes Ben, tuna, that pretty much sums it all up. Brandon starts pounding away fist after fist into Prophet's mush... Meanwhile, in the ring, Jim is going for another pin on the still fallen Axl... He gets a one... two...SHOULDER UP! Jim dragging up Axl, trying to finish him off. Axl with a boot. Sinister Slice! No! Jim blocks it. Krew Kutter! Cover! One! Two! Three! HEGOTHIM!
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, and the number one contender for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS, Jim "Totally Packaged"!
Styles: What a match.
SW: There was a match in that mess? If you say so..
Announcer: And now for something completely irrelevant...
[A picture of Tony Spaghetti flashes on the screen.]
[Oh right, we don't have one yet...Never mind. A picture of raYne flashes on the screen.]
[....FUCK, we don't have one of him either? Umm...Sir Hungalot?]
[Nope, not him either. Well, I know we've got Jean Bannister.]
[Now you're just fucking with me. We HAVE a pic of him. Well, we were supposed to have a tag team match here. But due to "technical difficulties" in Leary's brain, we instead present Ted, who also doesn't have a picture...]
Ted: Ted "The Sarcastic PR Guy" guy here. Tony Spaghetti, raYne, Sir Hungalot and Jean Bannister are real BOB employees, not paid celebrities. So, to help tell their story, we hired a celebrity. But when our check bounced, we settled for who we could get.
Josh Gordon: Pain and Pleasure talk about a new "tag team" finisher...called the "Slap and Tickle."
Ted: That sounds painful! What does it consist of?
JG: The move is Jean hits the Slap Shot in the middle of the ring and Big Sir hits rolling thunder and from there it's academic...
Ted: Academic, you say?
JG: That's right, they do math....1...2...3.
Ted: It's so academic, we might as well just skip the match. I guess that means Pain and Pleasure were victorious in the after-math! Ha! I kill me!
JG: I'm outta here. Loser.
Ted: Right. Jean Bannister and Sir Hungalot are your winners. And for all my brothers...this match gets a [n/a].
[Sounds of stuff breaking is followed by "The Mama'z Boyz Are Back in Town" by Fatt Lazzy plays. Big pop.]
NH: The following match is for the Not Good Enough To Fight Alone Tag Team Titles. Introducing first, the challengers. Dr. Silaconne M. Plants and Luke Warm, the Mama'z Boyz!
[Luke Warm heads out first, followed in a bit by SMP, who looks pissed to be in this tag team, especially teamed up with Luke Warm.]
SW: Ugh, didn't those z's go out of style in 2000?
Styles: It's retro now, I guess. Last month, Luke Warm made his shocking return to BOB.
SW: BOB spends all this money on these stupid videos, and then Luke doesn't even rant? That ain't cool. Plus, he cost SMP the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS against Death.
Styles: It should be interesting to see if these two boys can get along without their family around to keep them in check.
SW: These guys hate each other. I'm sure SMP will get some payback tonight.
Styles: Stop reading ahead in the script.
["Enter Kevin" by Vietallica plays next. Kevin the Pyromaniac comes out with both title belts (wearing one around his waist and one over his shoulder). Amazingly, they don't look at all scorched by fire. That can't be said of Kevin's clothes, however.]
NH: And...their opponents? First, Kevin the Pyromaniac. And his partner?
Styles: Where is booger?
SW: Check your nose.
Styles: You know what I meant. The man he won the tag team titles with.
SW: Kevin's been spooninated up the ass hard here.
Styles: Well, Kevin can't like being compared to Miz by SMP.
SW: Why not? That's probably a compliment to Kevin. He gets pinned by inanimate objects.
Styles: True. Kevin grabbing the microphone?
Kevin the Pyromaniac: I will not fight SMP and Luke Warm by myself! There's no way I can beat them! Trey Vincent! Get out here right now, or, or...
[Kevin pulls out a lighter, grabs himself by the throat, and holds a lighter up to his head and flicks the switch. Of course, by doing that, he can't hold the microphone and nobody can hear what he's saying. D'oh! Luckily, Generic Ref picks up the mic and holds it for Kevin.]
KtP: I'll do it man! Don't test me! I'll totally light this honky on fire!
SW: No kidding, he does it on every BOB show. I guess Bogger was the brains of the operation.
SW: Whatever his name was. Boggle. Bogger. Jobber.
["Not All Who Wander Are Lost" by DevilDriver hits. Trey Vincent walks out and gets in the ring.]
TV: Alright, Kevin. Just relax. I don't want anybody getting hurt. What are your demands?
KtP: I want a new partner to replace Booger! He hasn't ranted in TWO MONTHS! He's totally dragging down my chances of winning this match. Even though SMP's was crap and Luke didn't even do one.
SMP: Hey! You want an Italian loafer shoved up your dookie poot, crusty ass, pal?
LW: Let me lube it up with some Luke-Hoo.
SMP: I don't want that disgusting stuff all over my shoe.
LW: You're gonna shove a shoe up his ass, and you think Luke-Hoo is the most disgusting thing you're gonna get on it?
TV: Well, it appears you're onto our tricks. Damn!
KtP: You damn right, Vincent.
TV: Fine, name your new partner.
KtP: I name....Trey Vincent!
KtP: That way, there's NO WAY I can lose these tag titles. Ever!
Styles: Oh my GOD! Kevin the Pyromaniac just named Trey Vincent as his new partner?
SW: Kevin isn't such a retard after all. That's thinking right there. As if Trey will book himself to lose here.
Styles: Trey Vincent and Kevin the Pyromaniac against Luke Warm and Silaconne M. Plants? This card just got a whole lot better!
SW: Yeah. I guess I was too tough on Trey earlier. This one should be awesome!
Styles: Trey's ready to go. And the hostage crisis comes to a peaceful end, too. Alright. The Mama'z Boyz are ready. And Trey and Dr. Silaconne M. Plants are going to start this one out. This should be quite interesting, Scotty.
SW: Yeah. This is like a dream match. An un-advertised bonus dream match.
Styles: And here we go. Plants and Trey circling each other. Hang on. What is this?
[Big pop as Dr. Thrilla slides in the ring and bashes Trey in the face with a stop sign!]
SW: Oh, motherFUCKER!
Styles: And this one is over before it began. And there's Paradox. He just lit Kevin on fire! Flaming Reverse Backbreaker with a Spanish Twist by Paradox!
SW: Hey, look! It's Mr. Paradox. How did Kevin get on fire?
Styles: I'm not sure. Brain fart. Thrilla's got Trey set up in the corner and Paradox is climbing the ropes in the opposite corner.
Styles: Coast-to-coast dropkick into the stop sign by Mr. Paradox! OH MY GOD! And what a reaction from the crowd! I haven't heard a reaction like this in a long time!
LW: Nobody out-pops Luke Warm.
Styles: STONECUTTER on Paradox!
Styles: STONECUTTER on Thrilla!
Styles: STONECUTTER on Generic Ref!
Styles: Warm picks up Vincent! STONECUTTER!
Styles: FLAMING STONECUTTER on Kevin!
SW: What a hot segment this has turned out to be, huh Styles?
Styles: No pun intended, I'm sure. Luke Warm has laid everybody out. Thrilla. Paradox. Generic Ref. Kevin. Everyone except...
SW: Nipple Cutter! YES!
SW: Wow! SMP got a bigger pop than Luke? I guess we all know who the bigger heel is.
Styles: Luke is a fan favorite. Most places. Just not in Sinister City, apparently.
SW: Plants has the mic.
SMP: To answer your question. (Plants pauses and soaks up the cheers from the heelish crowd.) That...is what I'm going to do when Lukeamania runs wild on DOC-TOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOR! SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL-A-COOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooonnnnnnnneeeeeeee.
SMP: M. Plants.
[Plants drops the mic and leaves the ring.]
Styles: Wow. I'm speechless, Scotty.
SW: Thank god for that. I need to get this show posted already...
[Pigeon intro goes here.]
NH: Intro goes here.
Styles: Dialogue goes here?
SW: The fuck?
[Massive Man intro goes here.]
NH: Blah blah blah Swiss Army Belt blah blah blah...
Styles: Oh my god?
SW: Mount Everest: forbidding, aloof, terrifying. The mountain with the biggest tits in the world.
Styles: And here we go. Both men trading forearm shots. Whip to the ropes, and what a collision. Massive Man falls through the ropes all the way to the floor. Double ax handle from the apron by Pigeon. Russian leg sweep into the Flimsy Guardrail!
SW: I still can't believe he broke up with Michelle. Next time I need to break up with a girl, I'll just DDT on her head, too.
Styles: First, you need to GET a girlfriend.
SW: I can't believe he never even got any action.
Styles: He must've known he never would. Superkick by Pigeon connects. Now Pigeon with a blatant chokehold on the Belt holder. And there's a slam on Massive Man. Massive Man whipped to the ropes. Clothesline. And there's a bulldog.
SW: You'd think that at this point in his career, Pigeon could hit a bulldog without looking like an amateur. But you'd be dead wrong.
Styles: One, two, no! Pigeon looking to end it here, but there's the Sideways Effect by Massive Man Rendition First. Nice counter there. Massive Man takes Pigeon over with a side headlock. One, two. Reversal, one, two, reversal! One, two, reversal. One, two. Reversal. One, two! Reversal!
SW: Boring! Come on. I want blood. Where's his stapler and tacks and stuff?
Styles: Pigeon charges, but Massive Man counters. Backslide! One! Two! Pigeon kicks out. Pigeon up quickly and there's a rollover cradle! One! Two! Massive Man kicks out. Pigeon grabs Massive Man. Double chickenwing pin! One! Two! No.
SW: I wish I had a chicken wing so I could wish this match was over.
Styles: There's a crucifix by Massive Man! One! Two! And Pigeon escapes. Victory Roll by Massive Man! One! Two! Pigeon kicks out. And Massive Man runs right into a small package. One, two and no! Massive Man takes down Pigeon. Here comes La Majistral!
SW: Is that a new Mexican wrestler?
Styles: No, Scotty, that's the name of the pin! Two and Pigeon kicks out.
SW: I knew that. *Ahem*
Styles: Both men trading quick near falls here. Sunset flip by Massive Man. One, two! Reversal by Pigeon! One, two! Reversed again! Pigeon trying to bridge out. Uh oh! He can't do the bridge! One! Two! Three? No way!
SW: Man, he's so old and unflexible. No wonder Michelle didn't want any of him.
NH: Here is your winner as a result of his opponent being unable to bridge out of a basic move, and STILL Swiss Army Belt champion, Massive Man Rendition First!
SW: So much for BOB's new year's resolution.
Styles: Oh? What was it?
SW: Not to suck. What a shit show! It's like somebody just threw this thing together during a four-hour plane flight.
Styles: Maybe even two of them.
SW: Oh well. Let's get this over with. Main event me. Pay me. The strip club beckons.
Styles: Are there strip clubs here in Utah?
SW: There better be! If not, maybe I can convert to Mormonism and marry five chicks later tonight.
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for the main event. And it will be for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS!
["I Can't Get No Satisfaction" by The Rolling Stones plays.]
Styles: The Great's sure been pumped up for this match.
SW: I'd hope so with all the steroids he's been popping.
Styles: I was actually referring to the large number of Rants in the Rant Zone.
SW: Oh. Sure, sure. Yeah, I just can't wait to see if the bookers decide based on quanity or quality. Because if they do, Death is totally screwed on BOTH counts.
Styles: Speaking of "totally," since we know Jim will face the winner of this match next month, I've been told that the name of our February show will either be Totally Great or Totally Dead, depending on who wins tonight.
SW: Totally Great would be false advertising for a BOB show. And what was the deal with Trey and the beer and the Great's locker room at the start of the show? Is there a conspiracy at work against Trey's former friend, Death?
Styles: I highly doubt that. But Trey would sell out anybody if he thought he could make some money off it...
["I Am The Champion" by Death & The Deathtones hits next. Death steps out, followed by his zombie cheerleader wife, Katie.]
Styles: And the Great can't wait to initiate. The Great attacking Death as he enters the ballroom. Look at the Great unload on Death here.
SW: Death wasn't expecting this. He's an entity that plays by the rules. What a cheater this Great is.
Styles: He's Dr. Kevorkian's favorite wrestler.
Styles: Too old of a reference?
SW: If that joke were an old woman's vagina, it'd have cobwebs. Though I'm pretty sure Death is Cheney's favorite wrestler. And we all know Bush is an old friend of the Skull & Bones Society.
Styles: The Great tosses Death in the ring. The Great must really want the gold.
SW: Yeah. But not as much as his wife and kids want to spend the extra money. But with what BOB pays, he'll be lucky to get a couple extra cups of coffee each week.
Styles: What a Great northern lights suplex. One, two and no. The Great charges, but Death trips the Great, and he tumbles out to the floor.
SW: No way.
Styles: Incoming! Death with a tope? Are you kidding me? That brings new meaning to the term Death from above.
SW: What is he, a killadore? Deathadore? Bonydore?
Styles: Death has the Great up and ooh crotches him on the Flimsy Guardrail!
SW: Great balls of yowza.
Styles: Oh, somebody get Katie Death away. She's trying to eat The Great's brains!
Styles: The Great shoves Katie away. And Death doesn't like that. Oh, he crotches The Great on the Flimsy Guardrail again!
SW: The Great doesn't like Kate? What a twist of fate!
Styles: Back in the ring now. There's a knee lift to the Great. Bony foot connects. One. Two. No. Whip to the ropes, no reversal, and Death hits the corner hard. Clothesline! Death tossed over the top rope to the floor. Great plancha!
SW: What workrate by The Great.
Styles: Great knows he needs to pin Death to win the title, so he tosses the champion back in the ring.
[The Great goes to the corner opposite of Death, grabs the top rope with both hands and then stomps his foot. Then again. Then again and again and again as the crowd claps along.]
Styles: What is this now? Why's he doing that stomping thing?
SW: I know!
Styles: Superkick connects!
SW: That wasn't a superkick. It was a Greatkick!
Styles: Two and NO! Death gets a foot on the ropes. Death is in trouble here, Scotty. St. Louis legsweep connects. One, two, and no! Death kicks out. But there's a DDT.
SW: That wasn't just any DDT, Styles. That was DDT#7.
Styles: How can you be sure?
SW: I did my research, Styles.
Styles: Playing video games is research now?
SW: It is when you work for this company!
Styles: What the? Death with a...hood-anconrana?
SW: I think he actually calls that the hurrikillrana.
Styles: I've never seen a seven-foot tall wrestler hit that move. Running knee lift by Death.
SW: Ah, there's the usual Death offense we know and are bored to tears by.
Styles: One, two, no. The Great kicks out. Death's got The Great hooked. Oh my GOD! Death driver?
SW: Man, has he actually been practicing moves? Seems pointless when we all know he'll just bribe BigBOSS to keep the title.
Styles: Death is unleashing more than three moves tonight. He's taken the Great's challenge seriously as he should. Death trying to go for a clawhold?
SW: Oh man. If Death gets this locked in, the Great will get brain cancer and die!
Styles: The Great blocking it. Dropkick to Death's knees. Here it comes! The Great Figure Eight! Figure four locked in! He drops it. He locks it in again! Will Death tap out.
SW: What's Katie doing? She's trying to hit The Great with the scythe! Generic Ref stopped her.
SW: Very lame catfight. Generic Ref pulling her out of the ring and...is he ejecting Katie from the match?
Styles: It looks like it.
SW: This isn't fair!
Styles: She tried to decapitate the Great.
SW: But she failed. You don't go to jail for attempted murder.
Styles: Yes you do!
SW: Oh, really?
SW: Hey! The Great just grabbed a weapon. It's an ice skate! The Great blasts Death with the ice skate. I like this guy, too! Plus, that rhymed.
Styles: You just don't know who the cooler heel is here, do you?
SW: You gotta respect the rule breaking. It's not about rules, it's about winning.
Styles: Death no doubt would be wearing the crimson mask if he had any flesh.
SW: He's probably...uh...losing calcium or something?
SW: What the hell's in bones? Marrow? Crap, I don't know physiology.
Styles: The Great going to work on Death's skull, reigning down punches. The Great heads back under the ring. What's that?
SW: A dinner plate?
Styles: Not anymore! The crowd showing some love to The Great.
SW: Is Generic Ref lost? Is he so retarded that he need a GPS to get through the arena?
Styles: Slam by The Great! Cover, but Generic Ref still isn't back. He grabs the ice skate. Oh my GOD, he's just slicing into Death's skull with that skate. It sounds like a saw cutting through, well, bone, I guess. Death shoves The Great away and is trying to escape. The Great and Death now fighting on the apron. Oh man! Sidewalk slam on the apron by Death!
Crowd: Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap!
SW: Death can't be happy about being scarred for life by The Great, Styles. This is great! These guys are doing everything they can to win.
Styles: It'll be hard to win it if Generic Ref never comes back. Death trying to crotch The Great again on the guardrail? No! The Great blocks it. Tornado DDT on Death on the floor. What a war we're seeing.
[Cut outside of the arena. Generic Ref and Katie Death are sitting on a curb, smoking.]
GR: You know, these things will kill ya.
KD: Ra raaaaar raar.
GR: Fair enough.
KD: Raaar, raaaar?
GR: Yeah, yeah.
[Katie offers Generic Ref her cigarette. He takes it.]
GR: I can't help but feel I forgot something...
[Back to the ring.]
Styles: Netherworld Powerbomb? No! Sunset flip! But no referee! Death kicks out.
[The crowd boos loudly.]
Styles: What is Axl doing out here? He's got on a referee shirt? What is this?
SW: I hope Death gives Axl some die-arhea.
Styles: Great charges. Death with a spinebuster attempt, but the Grteat with another tornado DDT Cover! Axl's in! One! Two! Axl just attacked The Great? What the hell?
SW: He's calling for the bell? Bullshit!
Styles: Axl still stomping on The Great. He just robbed The Great of winning THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. This isn't right!
NH: The winner of the match, as a result of a disqualification due to inside interference? The Great?
Styles: Axl's got on the ref shirt, so I guess what he says goes? Sinister Slice on The Great.
SW: Axl must still be pissed that The Great turned down joining the Hierarchy. Speaking of, here they come. They're attacking both Death and The Great!
Styles: The Hierarchy has made a name for itself tonight at New Horizon.
SW: Yeah. Douchebags.
Styles: For Scotty Whatbody, this is Styles saying, good night everybody! And don't miss our next show...what's it called...oh right, Totally Dead! In February!
[Backstage, Little Good was being hauled away on a stretcher. Just now? Wow. They're slow.]
Mike Monroe: Trey, he's been asking for you.
TV: What the fuck do you want?
LG: I...know...who...Soem Guy In A Mask is.
TV: So what? And what's with the Shatner impersonation?
LG: Trust me...you want to know this.
TV: Who is it?
Caption: To Be Continued...
©2008 Wrestling (BOB) Pictures! Just like wine. Getting finer the later the show gets posted...or something.