(Only On Pay-Per-View!)
(Lights! Fireworks! Celebrities! All things we can't afford! But the Flunky is doing his best by setting off a fire extinguisher and lighting Roman candles as Eddie B. spins "The Final Countdown" by some group from the 80's no-one remembers. What? Europe? Okay, that guy over there remembers... We pan the Pay-Per-View Arena in Bovine, Alabama. A near-capacity crowd is going nearly-nuts. Nearly. Eddie cuts neatly to "We're Not Gonna Take It" by Twisted Sister as we pick up the announce team of Mike Monroe, Scotty Whatbody and Coma. Scotty and Mike are wearing tuxedos, Coma is wearing a penguin suit. Well, he tries...
MM: Hello and WELCOME... To BOB: PAY-PER-VIEW, live on Pay-Per-View! I'm Mike Monroe, and I'd like to welcome you to a spectacular night of Sports Entertainment!
SW: But it's BOB, so welcome to Lame-O-Vision! But at least we're on Pay-Per-View, so I can swear! -BLEEP!- -BLEEP!!- -BLEEEEPPP!!!-
Coma: Poink! Neefle narfle iddly diddly. -BLEEP!-
MM: Well, that's as may be, Coma... but I can at least inform you that tonight will see thrills, spills, chills, and other things ending in "ills"... and tonight we'll have EVERY title up for grabs! Including a match for the Unrecognised Light-Heavyweight title held by Michael McIntosh! The "You Gotta Have Friends" Tag title is on the line as Pain and Pleasure battle the Ambulance Jockeys! The Violent Pacifist takes on Billy Polar for both the commisionership AND the Swiss Army Title! The Are You Out Of Your Fricking Mind title is up for grabs... somehow! And Donald McKillalot will defend his "ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS" against a mystery opponent! What a night is in store!
Coma: Neep! My uncle chased Bea Arthur down a cliff, but he's feeling better now! Yurwahtyurwhatyurwhat?
Voice-Over: Jay... Doubya... Oh!
MM: What the hell? The jWo is on their way to ringside en masse! XXXTreme Machine leads the way along with StreetMime II, The Fire Chief, Bubba Gump and The Man Who Looks Like Nixon!
SW: Where are Insano Mano and The Dyslexic Avenger?
MM: They got too popular, and XXXtreme Machine kicked them out, I heard...
SW: Good! Insano Mano rules!
Coma: Peep! Insane Hands?
SW: Why are they all wearing trenchcoats? Oh no, they're going to snap! Everybody DOWN!
XXXtreme Machine: shut up u red eck im talksin ok wath i want to sazy is that u peeple sux
XXXtreme Machine: thats rite and ur sall inbread hiks with no teet and bad breaths
XXXtreme Machine: an finaly we are no logner the jwo... we r the RITE TO SUCK!
(The jWo... sorry, the RTS throw off their trenchcoats to reaveal white shirts, ties and black pants. The Man Who Looks Like Nixon also has a large badge that reads "Yes, I Am a Lookalike Of A Famous Dead Former President!". Eddie B. cues the new RTS theme music "Ear-Splitting Cacophany of Noise, Whistles, Alarms, Bells, And Other Annoying Stuff" by Limp Bizkit. They raise their fists in the air, then leave to general indiffernce.)
(Except for Mark.. sorry, Mike.)
SW: Yawn. New gimmick, same old jobbers...
Masked Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen... this contest is for the "Not Big Enough For The Big Boys" Light-Heavyweight Championship! Introducing at this time, the holder of the unrecognised "NBEftBB" championship... hailing from his Mom and Dad's place... MICHAEL MACINTOSHHHH!
("The Real Slim Shady" plays as Mike McIntosh walks down the ramp. He hefts a Homicidal Hank Brand "Nail-Studded Barney Doll On A Chain" to a mediocre pop and rolls into the ring.)
MA: And his opponent... representing The Kent State Krew... he's not Evan Korageous, but he does have "Attitude"... whatever that means... and is a former "AYOOYFM" champion... he... is..." THE-BLEEP-SMACKER" BRANDONNNN!
(Against all odds, Eddie B. cues up "She Bangs" by Ricky Martin... it MUST be a Pay-Per-View! (on Pay-per-view!) Brandon runs out confidently to a face-by-default pop and some high-pitched screams courtesy of Eddies "Best of the Hardy Boys Entrances" CD.)
MM: Brandon rolls into the ring... wait a minute, The Masked Announcer has another card! What's going on?
MA: And their opponent...
MM: What? This isn't a triple threat!
MA: ... Weighing less than the Crusierweight Maximum Weight Limit... from He Can't Remember... COMA!
Coma: Poink! (Coma grins and rolls into the ring. He continues rolling until he falls out the other side of the ring.)
MM: What?! When did this happen? Let me see that card, Neville... (The Masked Announcer hands over the card... *snort*... Neville!) ... HEY! This card is written in crayon! And has the word "poink"no less than 6 times in the intro!
MA: Yes, I had to edit it slightly...
SW: Coma has weaseled his way into the match! Nicely done! I wish I'd thought of that!
MM: Yeah, right Scotty... The referee calls for the bell... I guess this one is official! Mike and Brandon lock up as Coma rolls up the aisle... someone get him back here, willya? Hiplock from Brandon! Mike bounces to his feet as Brandon ricochets off the ropes... drop-kick! Right in the knee! Erik Watts lives!
Brandon: HEY! I was aiming at the knee, okay!
MM: Fair enough... Brandon picks up Mike and hits a nice kneebreaker! Superduperkick! Coma finally returns to ringside... oh no, no, he's been distracted by the Spanish Announcers and has joined them for commentary...
Coma: Si habla poink? El neep! Puedo ver passporte, por favor? Puente bajo!
SW: Low bridge?
MM: Mike reverses a whip... clothesline! To the second turnbuckle... drops an elbow... Brandon rolls away! Good ring savvy, there! Brandon to the ropes... asai moonsault! Covers...1..2.. kickout! He scoops up MmmmMac... Snow Plow! Coma has left the broadcast position... he's on the top rope as Brandon covers... 1..2...
SW: HERE HE COMES!
MM: Ooooh... No-look twisting plancha! Right onto Brandon!
SW: And right onto his head! Both Coma and Brandon are ripe for the pickings!™
MM: Nice cliche!
SW: Thanks! Mike picks them both up... double noggin knocker! I love that move! He lays in some chops! WHOO! WHOO!
MM: Not a lot of effect... I guess when you practise on stuffed toys, you tend to under-estimate slightly! Coma hits him with a standing monkey-flip! Brandon hits a standing drop-kick as Coma kips up! He picks up Mcintosh! Runs him to the corner... Tornado DDT! A cover! Coma drags him off at 2! Falling head-butt... or possibly Coma just fell over... but he's covering!
SW: Brandon breaks it up at 2! Way to string this one out, pal!
MM: McIntosh chops Brandon! Brandon chops Coma! Coma chops himself! This is getting intense! Brandon Scops up Coma and slams him over the top rope! McIntosh rebounds off the ropes... clotheslines Brandon right over the top to the floor! He stands alone in the ring, the hero to idiotic young backyard wrestlers the world over!
SW: He's going for a plancha.. I can't look!
MM: OH! Brandon meets him with a drop-kick! Mike McIntosh goes down in a heap! I think he just discovered what playing with the big boys is all about!
MMcI: That really hurt! Screw you guys, I'm going home!
MM: What the hell! He's walking out! Brandon tries to stop him... Gavin Thesz Press!
MM: His lesser-known cousin, Scotty... McIntosh rakes the eyes of Brandon and they fight on the rampway! Coma runs over... Squealing Chicken moonsault off the guardrail!
SW: Into the crowd... I guess he got confused...
MM: He'll be all right... Hey! Some woman has arrived from backstage! She wallops Brandon with a broom! What's going on?
Woman: MICHAEL McINTOSH! You stop this foolishness right now! I told you, no title defenses until that room of yours is cleaned up! Get back home, RIGHT NOW!
MMcI: Awww, Mommmmm!
MM: His mom? That figures... She's dragging him off by his ear! The Generic Ref calls for the bell...
MA: This match has more than likely been ruled a NO-CONTEST!
SW: Well, even during a major Pay-Per-View, BOB is still BOB, huh?
MM: Indeed! Okay, let's keep the vibe of the night going with our special "Too Violent For Mayhem" screening of Kamikzie Ken vs. Insano Mano from Suicida, Mexico!
German Man In Crowd: Unsinnige Hände?
(Cut to a small arena in Suicida, Mexico. A small, though bloodthirsty crowd is present. A Spanish ring-announcer enters the ring.)
SA: ¡Las damas y los caballeros... obtengamos se prepara para retumbar!
(The crowd pops)
SA: Introducir primero... él es de Suicida, México... él es un Capricorn... y él es completley loco.. ¡INSANO MANO!
(Insano Mano runs down the aisle, slapping hands left and right. He picks up a table off a large pile and slides it into the ring. Finally, he vaults into the ring and props up his table in the corner.)
SA: Su oponnent.. Las Caídas de Froma Banzai, Georgia... él es el Hardcore Luchadore.. el Innovador de la Locura. ¡KAMIKZIE KEN!
(Big boos from the partisan hometown crowd. At the end of the aisle, a headlight suddenly flicker on. A powerful engine revs, falls off, revs again.)
SA: ¡Ah, shit santo! ¡El derecho de la venida de gringos para nosotros! ¡CORRA PARA SU VIVE!
MM: Good LORD! Kamikazie Ken is making his banned-in-sixteen-states motorcycle entrance! He's even got a ramp set up in front of the ring! This is crazy!
(Ken guns the engine and races down the aisle. Insano Mano runs off the ropes on the far side. As Ken hits the ramp he lauches himself over the top ropes for a...)
MM: NO-HANDS SPEAR OVER THE TOP ROPE! He hits Kenny in mid-air and blasts him off the motorcycle, which slams into the ring! Good LORD! Both Ken and Mano are down, and down HARD!
SW: And this is just the start of the match! WOO-HOO! The Insane Amigo is up first! Ken's rising! They both have chairs!
MM: Chairshot!Ken responds with a chairshot! Another chairshot! And another! And another!
(Sudden cut. A caption reads "Three minutes and 73 chairshots later.")
MM: And Ken finally knocks Mano down with a chairshot! He sets up a table... He sets up another! He adds a third to the pile! Ken's making a pyramid of tables!
SW: YEAH! Look at that! Three layers high, with 6 tables in total! Five bucks says Ken goes through it!
MM: You're on! Insano Mano has taken the opportunity to reach under the ring for... a cash register? Ken turns...
MM: OW! That HAD to smart! Ken's in the Approved Blading Position!™ YES! Busted wide open! He even sliced open his mask! Mano sets up a barb-wire wrapped table and is sprinkling it with rock salt and vineger! What a sadist! Ken is fumbling beneath the ring... He's got Razor Cards! Shades of "Black" Jack Dealer! He whips several at Mano... I think he got him with that last one!
SW: Looks like it! Mano is juicing from the arm! Ken charges at Insano...
MM: Mano catches him... TWISTING SPINEBUSTER THROUGH THE TABLE!
MM: Good GOD! It was an exploding table! Both men are writhing on the floor as the ref comes to check on them...
SW: Brave ref... HEY! That's no ref! That's El Jaboronie Loco! I worked with him in the Whatever Wrestling Federation! What's he doing there?
MM: What, you think any SANE man would agree to officiate a match between Ken and Mano? Both men have made it back into the ring! Ken is bleeding from half a dozen spots already and his capes is in rags! Mano with a spinning heel kick! A cover... Ken kicks out at 2! Insano Mano picks up Ken and slams him on the remains of his own motorcycle! Brutal! Drop-kick into the table he had set up against the buckle! Mano to the ropes as Double K rises... Ken ducks... LOOK OUT BELOW!!!
SW: WHOA! Mano just took out the entire first row of seats! Ken practically back-dropped him back across the border! And he's not done yet! Ken's going up to the top!
MM: Corkscrew moonsault into the stands! What the hell was Ken thinking? He looks like he's twisted a knee, and I don't like the looks of that arm!
SW: Insano Mano spits a tooth out and hits a sweet one-footed drop-kick to send Ken back into the rinside area!
Coma: Nurfle! Where's my yarmulke, Stanley? I need it, or the Rabbi will have me milking the yak again! Poink!
MM: Oh, Comas' back with us, folks! Mano drags Ken up to the apron... deposits him on the top turnbuckle! I don't like the look of this one little bit! Mano goes up... superplex? NO! OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN!!
SMASH!!! FW-ZAPPP! BZZZT!!! BOOOOOOOOMMMMM!
MM: TOP-ROPE DDT THROUGH THE TABLE PYRAMID, STRAIGHT ONTO AN ELECTRIFIED, BARB-WIRE WRAPPED EXPLODING CHAIR!!!! Ken is DEAD, I tells ya, DEAD! Oh, and here's your five bucks...
SW: Mike, you talked to him in the locker room earlier today, remember? He's not dead...
MM: Oh, right... Ken is STUPID, I tells ya, STUPID!
SW: No arguments there... Oh, man, should his ribs look like that? Mano ain't in such hot shape either! I'm sure he had eyebrows and facial hair before that explosion!
(Suden cut to split-screen. One side shows the match, the other shows Brandon getting hit with a chair backstage. Insano Mano is the assailant.)
MM: What the hell is going on?
SW: I'll field that one, Mikey... apparently Insano Mano and Kamikazie Ken weren't overly pleased at being called "Jobbers" by the Kent State Krew... Manos' only new, but Kens' won four-and-one-half championships, you know! And it looks like they're going to show the pretty boys the REAL meaning of "Hardcore"! Hmm.. the KSK are heels, right? Damn it, I feel so torn! Who to cheer for?
MM: Insano Mano finishes his beatdown of Brandon... he's dragging him out to the Spanish announcers table at rinside!
("The Ride Of Valkyries" starts to play as the camera pans up... and up... and up. Huge pop from the crowd as they see Kamikazie Ken standing in the rafters of the PPV Arena in his customary superhero pose.)
MM: LOOK OUT!!!
MM: 990 KEN-TON BOMB!! A full 2 and 3/4 rotations! A new record! Ken pulls out the biggest stunt of his career for Pay-Per-View!
SW: Oh, man... Kens back is never going to be the same!
(The split-screen returns to the pre-taped match as EMT's head out to ringside.)
MM: Unbelievable scenes here as we return to Suicida, Mexico! As we return, Ken and Mano are fighting through the crowd... Ken has a pair of bowling pins and is delivering some intense cranial damage to Mano. Mano recoils... OH! Jumping Frankenmanos sends Ken tumbling down a flight of stairs! Mano climbs to the edge of a balcony... MOONSAULT!
SW: Ken rolls out the way! AWWWWWW, MAN! Face-first to the concrete!
Coma: Nurkle! The Roman gladitor is under the pool table! Make mine a large one, barkeep! What? No, I'll pay for the typewriter, Simon! Flump!
MM: I'll say, Coma! This is insane! Ken somehow gets Mano vertical again!
Ken: OW! Wait up, Mano, I got something in my eye! OW! Ooh, that smarts! Damn eyelash! Ouch!
MM: Mano seizes the opportunity and spears Ken up the stairs... aound a corner and up another flight of stairs... through the VIP box... past the concession stand... through the locker room... into the loading dock... and finally Ken smashes into the side of a dumpster! What a spear!
SW: Check it out! A truck just pulled in... what's it say on the side of it... "Enriques Exploding Tables: We Deliver"? Oh, crap!
MM: Mano drags Ken up a conveniently-located scaffolding... He's going to powerbomb him... NO! Ken powers out... KAMIKAZI-KUTTER into the trucks' flatbed!
(Cut to stock footage of an obviously-different truck exploding.)
MM: GOOD LORD!
(Cut to a gently-smouldering Kamikazie Ken covering Insano Mano. El Jaboronie Loco runs in and counts the pin.)
MM: Ken wins it! My God, what a match!
SW: And it's not over! El Jaboronies going up the scaffold... he's going for the 720-corkscrew plancha!
(Cut to a black screen. A caption reads "END OF FOOTAGE".)
SW: DAMN IT!
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall, and is a Billy Polar Memorial Tournament first round match! Introducing first, the special guest commentator....
SW: Is it Bob Newhart?! I heard we got Bob Newhart for this show!
MM: Sorry to disappoint you, Scotty. His price range was just a little too high for BOB.
SW: Really? By how much?
MM: He HAD a price range.
MA: Ladies and gentleman: Billy Polar.
[Billy comes out in his new t-shirt with "I'm Billy Polar, dammit!" on the front and "....and this is my T-shirt" on the back. Only $29.95. It costs extra 'cause he went to Harvard. "So You Wanna Be A BOB Superstar" is blaring in the background.]
SW: I love that song. So you wanna be a BOB superstar! No cars! Debt's large! Wife named Marge!
MM: Singing isn't in your contract.
BP: (smiling and doing that fake Queen of England wave) Ahhh, yes, happy to be here. Happy to be here. So, Mickey, how's your wife?
MM: Let's not go there.
SW: So, Billy, tell us more about your tournament. Nobody except you seems to know about it.
MM: Or care....
BP: Well, you know how it is, Scotty. It seems like wrestlers these days only move up in their careers through talking, and not actual wrestling. My tournament will change all that, because the best WRESTLER will win, and be the first to face I, Billy Polar, for my Swiss Army strap.
MM: Well, what about Da Sassy Bitch? I understand the office has been pressuring you to grant him a title match for some time now.
BP:Well, you know, Mike, I'm just sick and tired of Duh Sassy Bitcher. I mean, he's all "Hey! Look at me! Over here! I deserve a title shot!" and then when I laughed at him, he goes to the big wigs and starts shouting "Discrimination!" this and "Gay rights!" that, so you know....
MM: Wait a minute! Da Sassy Bitch is not gay! He told me so himself and I for one believe him.
BP: Oh, please. Give me a break. Pink tights?
MM: One word. Hitman.
(And so begins the internet rumors stating that Bret Hart has signed with BOB.)
SW: I don't mean to interrupt you guys, but it's time for some REAL wrestlin'!
MA: Introducing first, representing Dead and Dumber, GEORGE!
[Lenny drags George to the ring on his back.]
SW: Uhm. I take that back.
BP: Why? George is a fast-rising up-and-comer. Plus, I hear NOBODY can take a bump like George.
SW: Um, fast.....rising. Yeah. Sure, Bill.
MA: Now coming to the ring, accompanied by Wes the "Talking" Inanimate Object, he is....ZILLA!!
[Zilla skateboards to the ring, followed by another skateboard standing on end and riding a third skateboard. They must be glued together or something. And remote controlled. Huh. I don't see any strings...boy that's weird. What? Sorry.]
Coma: Poink! And they're off! The proletariats have the vote, but now the cowboys are moving up the hainlane, Jethro! Jenna has a fuzzy dimple! Honest! Just ask her gynecologist!
MM: Uh, exactly. George not looking too strong out there. Uh-oh. He can't even stand up. Well, keep in mind he WAS involved in a recent plane crash.
SW: And it's been well-documented that George has been having some problems with pain-killers. You don't think he took a few too many to prepare for this pay-per-view match, do you?
BP: Well, I hope not. You can't be unconscious in the ring and expect to take the title off of I, Billy Polar.
MM: Zilla now, stomping away on the quote/unquote "Dead Man". Now setting him up for a reverse chinlock, but no, he's locked in a sleeperhold!
BP: Kind of no point to that now, is there?
SW: #sigh# Well, fans. This match shaping up to be yet another squash I'm afraid. Please don't change the channel.
MM: Who turns the channel when they're watching a pay-per-view?
BP: Hey, some of us don't have to care about money, alright? Listen, fans. Trust me. There's nothing new happening in that OTHER federation. There's no point in turning it there because that biker guy's wife's stalker has finally been revealed. Yes, the internet people were right all along. It was Tatanka. Yup, you guessed it. Sara Undertaker was taken to the hospital with an arrow sticking out of her butt, so don't even bother....
MM: Yeah, like THAT'll put the butts in the seats!
SW: Heh heh! They blew it big-time on that one! We might actually have a chance at BOB's BIGGEST BUYRATE EVER!
MM: Chyah. We're just shooting for BOB's FIRST buyrate ever.
BP: Baloney! We're doing fine. I've convinced the advertizers that, uhh, everybody's just going over to their neighbors' houses to watch this show on their illegal black boxes.
MM: Uhhh, yes of course they are. Now back to the action. Business is picking up! Zilla has had George in a Boston crab for several minutes now, but not a peep from George.
SW: Wow, what intestinal fortitude! No way will this young corpse give up!
BP: Yup. These two are really showing me something tonight.
MM: Zilla finally lets go and goes up top. He's perched on the ring ropes now and is waiting for George to get to his feet. It looks like he's going to go for a missile dropkick or something!
SW: Uhh, George isn't moving, you guys.
BP: Boy, he sells great, doesn't he? What a worker!
MM: Zilla still waiting. And finally he climbs down, probably due to exasperation. Picks George up and sits him down in the corner. To the opposite side of the ring now. What's he gonna do here? OH! Zilla just nailed him with a hard knee! OHMIGOD!!
SW: OH SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!
BP: Oh, man! Go to blue screen! Go to blue screen! What do you mean, what do I mean?! That blue construction paper that says "Please Stand By"!
Coma: Poink! I mean, man, this is serious! This is not a work, folks! George's head just popped off! D-VON!! Get the ambulance!
MM: No wait, folks. Don't worry. Lenny just re-attached George's head. He's alright now. Wow! Now THAT should make some headlines. You're witnessing history tonight, folks.
[The crowd has started up a deafening "ECW" chant.]
SW: Man! George really earning his paycheck this month!
MM: Zilla now going after that injured head and neck area. OOH! Brutal right fists to the face!
BP: And he didn't even blink! Wow! Oh, look, and now Zilla's got him in an abdominal stretch! Fat lot of good that's going to do. The man lost his head and he didn't even quit! If I were Zilla, I'd be scared right about now. WHOA! Incredible. George looks like a sigmoid out there!
Coma: Poink? What you say, Mavis? How many times have I told you not to cremate the monkeys? They're not dead!
MM: Incredible is right. How can someone stretch their knee over their own shoulderblade like that?
SW: Does George have a gymnastic background?
MM: Not that I'm aware of. And wow!
SW: Zilla just flung George to the ground like an uppity prostitute!
MM: Uhm, uhh, the views of Scotty Whatbody are certainly not those of BOB or any affiliated parties....
BP: Hey, this is a public forum! If you can't be P.C., then you can't work here. Besides, not all prostitutes are uppity.
SW: Well, SO-o-orry!
MM: Man, after all the punishment George has sustained, I can't believe he's still in this one.
SW: Not for long. Zilla just hit him with a jumping piledriver!
Zilla: Snootchie bootchies!
BP: What'd he say? Scooby has boobies?
MM: Sure, why not? At any rate, Zilla has him pinned, but no! He's not going for the pinfall! What the-?
SW: No, he's going outside to confer with that talking skateboard of his.
MM: He brought the skateboard in the ring! And now he's lifted it up for a press-slam!
SW: He's turning on his own skateboard?!
BP: Yeah, sorry. Not a lot to work with in terms of storylines here in BOB....
MM: No! He just slammed the skateboard down on George's head and now goes for the pin. This one's over.
SW: Zilla showing his mean streak there.
MM: Mean streak? Do you realize that he literally took this man's head off?
MA: Here is your winner..........ZZZZZZIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAA-achkpthhack-AAAAAAAA!!
MM: The Masked Announcer getting a little over-zealous there.
BP: Well, can you blame him? This is Pay Per View, Monroe! The biggest show we got! Can't you smell the excitement in the air?
MM: Uhh, #sniff# excitement over eating a chili dog, maybe....
SW: Dang. And we didn't even get to see the Skyscraper. Zilla's a tease! He's a tease! So what do you have in store for us next, Billy?
BP: I'm glad you asked that. Take it away, Announcer Person!
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall, and is yet another first round match in the Billy's Memorial Annual Big Meaningful Billy Polar Tournament!!
SW: Damn! What is that, translated from Japanese?
BP: No, the damned Announcer can't read my handwriting apparently. Hmph.
MA: Introducing first, hailing from Newark, New Jersey, here is "Mr. Thursday Night" J.C. Long!!
SW: Who does anything on Thursday? That's Must-See TV night!
MM: That's when NAGAM airs!
SW: Oh, right. I watch NAGAM. I was just saying, is all....
Coma: Here he comes to shave my grandma! So what you're saying is high-yield bonds are better than the Teletubbies? I love you, Martha Stewart! Nurfle!
[J.C. comes to the ring looking, well, pretty regular. "Right Here, Right Now" by Fatboy Slim accompanies him. This actually gets the fans on their feet. Hopefully not to leave.]
MA: His opponent, from Parts Inconsequential, here is Michael J. Dangerous!!
[Mike Dangerous ambles to the ring in a faux leather jacket with his hands in his pockets. Suddenly, he trips over a TV wire and falls to the ground.]
SW: Parts Inconsequential? Is that by Aguascalientes? Hey, is it just me, or is Mike Dangerous a lot shorter in person than I had pictured him?
BP: At least this time he picked a better name than Doc Hollywood.
SW: Huh? I don't get it. And what's with his sunglasses? I've never seen a tint that dark.
BP: Uhhh, well this is BOB, and you have to understand that we can't afford fancy things like sunglasses, so we just had him spraypaint his own glasses with black paint.
SW: Huh. Good idea.
[Dangerous finally makes it to ringside, removes his shades, and starts squinting around in all directions until Coma finally points him toward the ring. As Dangerous enters the ring, J.C. grabs a mic.]
J.C.: What'z up, uhhhhhhhh......hmmm. What'z up, North America?
[The crowd responds with a surprisingly loud pop for a wrestler mentioning their, uh, home continent.]
J.C.: And I just got a few things to say. First off, I know what you're trying to do, Billy Polar, and it won't work. We're best friends and we absolutely REFUSE to fight each other! Besides, how can you grant the winner of this tournament a title match when, after tonight, YOU WON'T BE THE COMMISSIONER ANYMORE! Ha-ha! Go VP!
[The crowd is on its feet cheering and Billy is on his feet as well. He's seemingly ready to charge the ring, but he's held back by a shoelace that got caught around one of his chair legs.]
BP: Ooh, they're lucky! They're real lucky! If I had been wearing flip flops today, they'd be dead now. To think that VP could beat I, Billy Polar, the Big Match Master! You know, I hope one of them wins! I really do. Because then I'm going to beat the ever-loving cauliflower out of their ears! I've been to Harvard, dammit, AND I DON'T DESERVE TO BE ANNOYED!!
MM: As opposed to being annoying?
J.C.: Anyways, let's get out of here, Mike. Wine coolers on me.
[J.C. exits the ring through the ropes and begins to walk up the rampway. But Mike remains in the ring, and the ref starts counting.]
J.C.: Uh, Mikey? What are you doing?
Mike D: Well, uh, you see, uh, PAL.....you shouldn't-a wrote that stuff about me in Seventeen magazine. And that article in Sports Illustrated for Kids was un-called for. Come on now.
J.C.: What? But I didn't write those! I don't know what's going on, but--
[J.C. leaps into the ring as the referee's count approaches thirty.]
SW: I guess this particular referee doesn't have much experience with count-outs.
MD: So those articles weren't true?
J.C.: No, absolutely not.
MD: So, then your grandma can't kick my ass?
J.C.: No, Mike, she can't.
MD: So none of your family members can kick my ass?
J.C.:No, Mike. Nobody's gonna kick your ass.
MD: So, you can't kick my ass, either, right?
J.C.:Uhh, wait. Now, I never said that.
BP: Wow. These guys should be lawyers. Does BOB have a debate team they could join?
SW: OOH!! And Mike Dangerous with a sucker kick to the face. J.C. Long goes down! Hard!
MM: That's enough, Sir Hungalot. Mike now pounding away! He picks J.C. up and RUNNING POWERSLAM! Uh-oh. Now he's lifted J.C.'s legs and placed one boot over his crotch! He's looking to the crowd for approval.
[The crowd collectively shrugs its shoulders.]
SW: Oh! The horror!
MM: He just put his full body weight down on Long's gonads by taking a step up and over J.C.'s nuts! Not sure what you call that....
BP: A vasectomy?
MM: Could be. J.C. is writhing on the mat while Mike is giving the booing crowd the fist in place of the middle finger. What a backstabber! Some fans at ringside getting a verbal diatribe with Dangerous as we can hear him screaming "Says you!" and "I know you are but what am I?" over and over again.
SW: Wow. Dangerous playing the role of the classic, classic, very, very classic heel.
BP: There, you see? Mike wizened up. There may not be a lot of money in heeling, but there's a lot more power and success in it! Just look at me. I'm the commissioner for Chrissake! And all I had to do to achieve that was to help gang-up on a midget. Now, do opportunities like that come along very often for SMP? Heeeeeelllll NO!
MM: Uh-oh! J.C. with a rollup! 1-2-no! This one was almost over! This one was almost over right there!
Coma: Meep! Zippity-doo-da! Tom Cruise is gay! My, oh my, what a wonderful turtle! Thanks for the lighter, Lucy! Now my dachshund is warm! Quick! Call the Baumgartners! Their damn helicopter's in the pool again!
SW: He pulled his tights! He pulled his tights! J.C. Long's a cheater!
MM: No, actually, as you can see from the replay, he was pulling his OWN tights.
BP: Wow. J.C. Long apparently lost a lot of weight recently.
MM: J.C. now sneaking up behind Mike and pulling his legs out from under him. Dangerous fell flat on his face. That's gotta hurt!
MD: Ow! I blit my tlongue!
SW: It looks like Mr. Tuesday Morning is going up top.
MM: Oh no! But Dangerous caught him! HIPTOSS FROM HELL! HIPTOSS FROM HELL!!
BP: Did you SEE that? Now, that's what I'm talking about! That's the kind of effort that BOBsters need to exhibit if they expect me to give them big matches. You've gotta give the little dweeb his due.
MM: Mike with the cover. Not even a one count.
SW: Well, it WAS a hiptoss, after all....
MM: Dangerous picking up Long. Oh! Long with a thumb to the eye. And Dangerous answers back with a thumb to the throat! J.C. with a thumb to the side of the head! Mike with a Nipple Twister!
SW: Man, these two are just brutalizing each other!
BP: Don't you love it? Two best friends! I couldn't've planned it better if I'd planned it myself! And I DID plan it myself! Heh.
MM: Oh, man. Now both men brutally slapping each others ears. Wow! What a physical match!
BP: Yeah. These two are EARNING a shot against I, Billy Polar. And the sad thing is, I can safely say that I can easily beat both of them at once in under two minutes. Heh heh. Am I smart, or am I smart?
SW: I'd say you're both, buddy! OH! Did you see that? Mike Dangerous just landed another big boot.
MM: And now Mike with an airplane spin and J.C. Long is sprawled out on the ring floor!
SW: Wow. This Dangerous guy's a monster!
MD: (with his hand on his crotch) Oooowwww! I'm bad! I'm bad! You know it!
SW: A slightly pathetic monster, but a monster nonetheless.
MM: The crowd starting up with a "Michael Jackson" chant. Dangerous doesn't look pleased.
MD: No, I'm not! You people are twits! You are dumb AND you are stupid! You eat your own boogers! Ha-HA!
SW: Hmm. Maybe there are reasons why some people don't get much interview time....
MM: J.C. Long with a quick rollup! 1-2-3! And just like that, it's over! J.C. Long runs back to the locker room. Mike Dangerous just looks confused. The crowd still giving Mike Dangerous a hard time.
MD: Rubber and glue! Rubber and glue! Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you! So there! J.C. wait!! I was just kidding! I'm SOR-RAY!!
[Mike Dangerous sprints up the rampway after J.C., but since he left his "shades" at ringside, he took a wrong turn at the top of the rampway and accidentally falls into the crowd, who proceed to confiscate his fake leather jacket as a souvenir.]
MM: Now, that's just pathetic.
SW: Yup. Not a good night for the Dangerous one. I wonder how he'll respond to this upsetting loss in the upcoming weeks.
BP: Well, I don't. Losing to J.C. LONG of all people. Sad. Well, my tournament matches are over, so I gotta go backstage and pump some lead for my match against the Vociferous Pinhead later on tonight. See y'all lata.
MM: Pump lead?
SW: Well, this is BOB, Mike. Remember?
BP: Peace out, Coma!
Coma: Dogs can be trained at any age. So can bitches. Where's your can of snow, Herman? Mine's defective! Tune in next time or host a Jamaican talk show? I don't have the answers!
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is set for one fall or some other unforeseen something or other that comes up to cause some screwed up finish. It's for both the number one contender's spot for the "YGHF" tag-team titles and the "AYOOYFM" hardcore title. Introducing first, representing the Dungeon of Dumb, accompanied by The Flaskmaster, this is…. SASQUATCH AND MASSAWA, THE SOMALIAN GIANT!
(Tribal drums are heard with a dance mix of "Be My Frankenstein" by Alice Cooper as the creepy threesome saunter down the aisle to a chorus of boos. The Flaskmaster swigs some corn mash and spits it at a planted fan for some instant heel heat and drives the ringsiders nuts. Sasquatch slowly steps in the ring and snarls, causing one of his Frankenstein bolts to fall off his neck. Massawa steps over the top rope and some unfortunate fans in the front row get an unwanted glimpse of his left ball when it popped out of his trunks going over the top strand. I know there was a briefing in pre-card that informed all the wrestlers to wear jock straps. But what can we do? He's Somalian and maybe he didn't understand. Or because he's malnourished… probably the only thing on his mind at the time was a Big Mac (Not Mark McGwire)
MA: And their opponents, representing the Kent State Krew. "Totally Packaged" Josh and The "AYOOYFM" hardcore champion, "Massive Man" Jim…this is, "MASSIVELY PACKAGED"!
(Eddie B. spins "Fingerbang You All Night Long, Girl" by Fingerbang, a.k.a. the boy band from South Park. Josh and Jim strut to the ring as a horde of pre-pubescent girls flock to the guardrails, the duo slap five and deal out some cheek pecks to the yet-to-blossom women who will soon replace their Backstreet Boys/N'Sync wall posters with the Spaghetti X's and O's promo shoot recently done by Josh and Jim. They hop in the ring and a loud cheer is heard.)
MM: Good grief! When did these guys get so popular? I thought they were heels.
SW: Billy did a great job massively repackaging "Massively Packaged." Move over Ricky and Robert, Shawn and Marty, Edge and Christian, Matt and Jeff, and even Farooq and Bradshaw…there's a new teeny-bopper crazed tag-team in town!
MM: Well, it could be because these guys are wrestling two grotesque monsters, lead by an equally disgusting lush with cartoon bolts on his head…
SW: No way, man! These guys are the next pre-teen crush! Rick Springfield never had it this good!
Coma: Has anybody seen my lambda? Poink! Moisten the scrunchie, I'M GOING IN!
MM: Ooooookay, and there's the bell! Looks like it's going to be Frankensquatch against The hardcore champ, Jim. A lot riding on this one for Jim, he puts his title on the line and could get a chance at the tag straps!
SW: Good call, Carmen Santiago. Now, figure this one out: why is Sasquatch looking like Frankenstein when he's 'sposed to be looking like Bigfoot?
MM: Wardrobe mix-up or something, then it stuck. Who cares? OOOOH! Jim cares about THAT! Sasquatch just gave him a crushing flat-head butt! Nice kick with those Gene Simmons lift boots! The 6' 11" giant proving that size DOES matter…he's manhandling the much smaller champ!
SW: Whips him across, baseball slide through the legs by Jim, he's quickly on his feet…. DROPKICK! Sasquatch didn't go down. Another dropkick! Josh is in….DOUBLE DROPKICK!
MM: Sasquatch off his feet! Josh back out…now Jim tags him back in. Josh scampers up the turnbuckle, waiting….waiting….Sasquatch struggles to his feet….high cross body! ONE….TWO…..
SW: Easy kickout! Sasquatch is back up, catches Josh charging in with a throat grasp….CHOKESLAM! Wow, fast momentum change there….
MM: Josh looks like a fish out of water the way he's flopping on the mat as Sasquatch tags in Massawa, Flaskmaster shouting instructions from the floor! Massawa still has his wooden mask on! Wait…he takes it off and skull caps Josh with it! It's legal! The hardcore title is on the line in this match!
SW: No duh. And you called ME Carmen Santiago?
MM: Nice tic-tac-toe face paint by The Somalian Giant, by the way. Now what? He's smearing that purple horseshoe design off his belly and now is rubbing grease paint into Josh's eyes! Brutal! Jim better get back in there before he loses his belt!
SW: Well, that's what he gets for being so stupid to put up a singles title in a tag-team match! Some weak chops coming from Massawa….now he throws Josh near the ropes where Flaskmaster begins choking the crap out of him while Massawa argues with and distracts the ref! Sound heel tactics here!
Coma: Jim's had enough! He enters the ring and clips Massawa's knee! Generic Ref now chasing him back out as Sasquatch enters and claps his hands, tricking G.R. into thinking a tag was made!
MM: Neep! Oingo Boingo played live at my high school. My sister had an amputee love triangle and appeared on Springer!
SW: Hey, Mike…you and Coma switch your scripts back before everybody gets totally confused. Okay?
MM: Whew! For a second there I thought somebody forgot to close a font tag and I had to be Coma the rest of the night! Thanks, Scotty!
SW: Don't mention it.
MM: Sasquatch lifting Josh for a bodyslam….Josh slips down the big man's back! Josh now places Sasquatch's chin against the top of his head, drops down…chinbreaker! Sasquatch collapses and the young girls squeal! Josh with a forward roll to his corner…hot tag to Jim!
(Jim begins to enter the ring, then stops and stares out into the crowd. He waits for favorable response…gets it from the carpenter's dream female fan base…then hops off the apron and pulls a large, burlap sack from under the ring. The crowd goes ape.)
MM: IT'S THE BAG 'O HARDCORE PROPS AND STUFF! Business is about to pick up!
SW: Oh yeah! Get the blades ready! It's BOB PPV action! Only on PPV!
MM: Jim is fishing around in that bag...AND OUT COMES THE RUBBER COATED BARBED WIRE CLUB! He clocked Sasquatch with it! Massawa is in and catches a shot to the arm!
SW: He needs to catch a friggin' sandwich! Good grief, just looking at him makes me hungry!
MM: Josh now looking for hardcore plunder...pre-cut broom stick!
How'd that fit in a bag?
Who cares?! Josh slides the sweeper between Massawa's legs....Jim moves around behind The Somalian and grabs the top of the broom. Both with a swift lift upwards!
(Close-up of Mike and Scotty, they wince noticably. Coma continues chewing on his mic stand as if nothing happened.)
MM: Jim covers Massawa! ONE...TWO....save by Sasquatch! Josh got a little too close to the ropes and took a chair shot to the back from The Flaskmaster! This one is breaking down!
SW: Breaking? This thing is already broke all to hell!
Coma: Cindy Brady had hair weave pigtails! Ask anybody!
SW: Sasquatch found the mandatory, hardcore match road sign and just leveled Jim! Massawa has cleared his cobwebs and is going up top! It could be The Somalian Belly Flop!
MM: Hey, you're a poet and didn't know it! Wait a minute! Massawa caught the updraft caused by the exhast fan located on the roof! His wafer thin body has took flight! Hope there's a guardrail over that fan!
SW: Wow! Look at him float away!
Coma: Fans, we'll have a brief intermission.
SW: What the hell?! An intermission in the middle of a match? Mike, we have any commercials?
MM: Just one, Scotty....
FANS! It's here! Morbid Marty and His Twisted Toys presents...COLUMPATCH KIDS!
That's right! Each kid even comes with it's own death certificate! Order today and get the TRENCH COAT MAFIA DOLL ABSOLUTELY FREE! First 10 callers get the doll's video tape confession! If it's morbid, it's Marty's!
SW: Kids, I know they guy's a sponsor...but don't buy that crap. Besides, killing people is really stupid.
MM: Well, not much has changed during the break.
(Cut to the ring. Sasquatch is taping a foot blister caused by his big ass boots. Jim is sitting Indian style in his own corner playing Solitaire. Josh is at ringside chatting up a girl and hoping for digits)
MM: What's Josh doing?
SW: Yeah! That girl is like 14 years old!
Josh: Hey, man...if there's grass on the field, I'm stepping up to the plate!
(Immediately, two men wearing generic security staff shirts approach Josh and lead him away. Looking at the backs of their shirts, they read "STWF Thought Police" "BOB's Morailty Cops")
MM: WOW! Josh has been apprehended! Massawa is stuck on the roof! It's down to Jim and Sasquatch!
SW: Not anymore! Sasquatch just planted that 5 inch thick, boot sole upside Jim's head! Just when he was getting ready to run the deck too! ONE....TWO....THREE! Sasquatch won the title! Here comes Flaskmaster!
MM: Hold on! Sasquatch grabs The Flaskmaster! SALAD SHOOTER! IT'S HERB ROMAINE! He;s in the Frankenstien suit! Where's the REAL Sasquatch?
SW: I dunno, Pacific Northwest?
(Cut to backstage, another man in a Frankenstein suit is seen tied to a chair...held at bay by a somewhat domesticated looking, yet menacing at the same time, wooly henchman. Wooly henchwoman? A goddamn sheep, okay? I didn't look for sexual organs.)
SW: Herb's pulled the wool over everybody's eyes in this one, ummmmm...so to speak.
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, THE NEEEEEEEEEEEEW "AYOOYFM" Hardcore Champion.....HEEEEEEeeeeeeeb ROOooooooooooMAINE!
MM: Okay now...who's the number one contenders for the tag-team titles?
(The BOB-tron thingee flicks on. It's Billy Polar.)
BP: Hi there, you Alabama Amphibians! I, Billy Polar, being the commissioner of this backwater dump...have already, due to my quick wit and uncanny intellegence, far above that of mortal man, where was I? Oh yeah, I have fixed this situation in a nanosecond. Because I'm very smart, I WENT TO HARVARD, DAMMIT! The Kent State Goo and The Dung Patties of Dull will both face the tag-team champions at MMM 16! Whether it's Herpes Lip Bannister and Slur Dingapot or The Ambulance Jockey Straps, both you goobers get the shot next MMM. I have spoken for I am God-like. You will obey me or I'll have Li'lPeppy gouge your eyes out with a stale burrito! So what are you gonna do?
(The screen shorts out and goes to static)
SW: There's your answer, Mike. Any questions?
MM: Yeah, what's next? I need to hurry up and get the bad taste of that shambles out of my mouth.
SW: Try some Scope, buddy.
Coma: NURFLE! Yeah, your breathe kicking like Jan Stenerud!
(Cut back to the ring. The Flunkie has finished constructing the cage for the next match. There are three chain link walls and one blue, iron bar wall that is to be used later in the evening. Whose idea was it two have two different style cage matches on the same card anyway? Especially in THIS fed?)
MA: Ladies and gentlemen! This next contest is for the "You Gotta Have Friends" tag-team titles and will be fought inside the confines of a STEEL CAGE!
(Pause for thunderous crowd pop. Still waiting. Finally, the crowd gives off a nice "golf" clap out of pity.)
MA: Introducing first, the challengers… from Greensboro, North Carolina and Brown Summit, North Carolina respectively… at a combined weight of 450 pounds, Garry "the Gurney" Greene, "Backboard" Barry Brown, the three time tag-team champions of the STWF….THE AAAAAAAM-bu-lance JOCKEYS!
(Eddie B. plays the "ER" theme with a touch of "sumpin' dope an' wicked". Garry and Barry walk the aisle in the midst of a slight chorus of boos. They enter the ring, Garry quickly mounts the turnbuckle and hand gestures threats while Barry struggles to remove his stethoscope that has somehow managed to get wrapped around his neck and is choking him out. Well, so much for the visual ring accompaniments. Garry then goes through the irrelevant checking of the cage walls by pressing on one with his palms. Luckily, it stays up.)
MA: AND NOW! The only team ever to hold both the STWF 3-4-1 tag-team titles AND the "YGHF" tag-team titles of BOB. The "Innovator of CANADIAN VIOLENCE" just after Rick Martel and The Mountie and from such screen gems like "V. I. Warshawski Meets V. D. Wartdickski", "How Stella Got Her Grooves On Her Back" and the children's classic "Crumpledforeskin" …Jean Bannister and Sir Hungalot…. the "YOU GOTTA HAVE FRIENDS" TAG-TEAM CHAMPIONS….PAAAAAAAAAAAIN and PLEASUUUuuuuuuure!
(Eddie B. cranks "Rock and Roll Part 2" by Gary Glitter because he really didn't need to add anything to make it "special". EVERYBODY is already familiar with that tune…and a rousing "HEY!" is chanted along with the song, since it's really the only lyrics, as the champions come down the aisle to a good size pop. They enter the door on the blue thingee wall and Flunkie adds the pad lock.)
MM: This one's been a long time coming! Look at these men stare each other down!
SW: No they're not, they're staring at Generic Ref….didn't you see that big, stringy booger hanging from his nostril?
NH: Hi guys…
SW: IT'S NURSE HEIDI! WHOO HOO!
Coma: Nurfle, Walk Billy Baldwin's water buffalo?
NH: Isn't he soooooo cute? (Heidi pinches Coma's cheek)
MM: Hey! We have a high profile match going on here! Jean and Garry already slugging it out in the middle of the ring! Barry spat at Hungalot!
SW: Screw that. Heidi, I gotta know. Are you knocked up? Got a bun in the oven? Rabbit die? What's up?
NH: What….in the world….are you talking about, Scotty?
MM: Bannister with an Irish whip, Garry ducks a wild clothesline, off the far side, rebounds back….tries for a TOMMY RICH PRESS! Jean caught him! Scoop powerslam! And the crowd roars it's approval, well…there was a slight rustle through the arena.
SW: SHUT UP, MIKE! There's more important things going on than this match. Heidi, are you gonna bust out a curtain climber in 9 or what?
Coma: Flugelhorn got caught in the blender. MAN THE TORPEDOS!
NH: Scotty, why are you insinuating that I'm pregnant? Who told you that?
MM: Jean with a forearm rocks Garry into his own corner, tags Barry who charges into the ring and right into CANADIAN VIOLENCE! CANADIAN VIOLENCE! Bannister sends Barry soaring face first into the cage wall… didn't take long for the steel to be a factor in this one! Barry goes right for the blood capsule! We're not even a minute in!
Coma: Blood capsule?
SW: Something about Barry not wanting to blade with Hungalot in the ring. You know, open cuts and stuff and not knowing where Hungalot's been. And quit avoiding my question…. is the stork going to pay you a visit?
NH: Who told you that?
SW: I asked mine first!
NH: Okay, the answer is no. Now who told you that lie?
SW: Billy Polar…
MM: Tag to Hungalot!
Coma: Nipsy Russell ate my garbage. Dangling participles for once stood up for democracy and hid the 'shrooms. POINK! (falls over)
MM: Can we all get on the same page? (sound of papers shuffling) There's two different conversations and then Coma going on here. We have action to call!
NH: Hmpf… I'll deal with Billy later…
SW: ….And break the news to him?
NH: Scotty, I'm about to become very un-lady-like.
MM: Well, while all that non-wrestling related jargon was going on… Barry turned the tide and now has The Big Sir playing, as "Not" Keith from Schmucksdotcom would say…playing Ricky Martin!
SW: Morton, you idiot. It's Ricky Morton!
NH: Hungalot just took a bone jarring uppercut from "Backboard" Barry. Barry makes the tag to Garry and now it's "double team time while the ref is reprimanding the non-involved wrestler and trying to get him to stay in his own corner". Let him go, G.R….it's a cage match!
Coma: Nipsy Russell ate my garbage. Dangling participles for once stood up for democracy and hid the 'shrooms. POINK! (falls over)
NH: Could somebody flip Coma's page for him?
MM: The Jockeys really working over Hungalot here, he needs a tag badly. Looks like he may have pulled a groin muscle during that last exchange, The Jocks are pulling no punches tonight!
SW: Pulled groin muscle? That's a broken leg for any other guy!
MM: Hungalot with a crawl between Garry's legs! Scampers to his corner, THERE'S THE TAG!
NH: Get ready for the gratuitous "one man wrecking crew" bit that happens in all tag team matches when a hurt wrestler finally makes a tag to his fresh partner…..
SW: SHHHH! You're spoiling it!
Coma: Hugh Grant had sex with P-Diddy who was dressed like a prostitute. Cauliflower ear spanked watermelon…. disco. Neep.
SW: I take that back, say anything you want as long as it keeps HIM from saying a word.
MM: Bannister's in! Steamroller clothesline turns Garry inside out! Jean has Barry and sends the already bleeding medic face first into the chain link again! He has Garry, pointing to the thick barred blue thingee wall! Listen to this crowd, they wanna see it!
NH: And there he goes…
SW: Garry sent into the iron bar wall of this mix and match cage! He could be busted open as he rolls over face down, while Bannister waves his arms and distracts the fans while Garry juices indiscreetly!
NH: Way to keep the secrets, Scotty. Should I call NBC again?
Coma: POINK! Goldfish in my pillow. Fuzzy dumplings ran across Interstate 5, intercepted Johnny Unitas, and micro waved Nell Carter's left bosom.
SW: BWAAA HAA HAA! Sorry…
MM: Bannister cross checks Barry against the fence as The "Backboard" tried to scale the wall. Garry struggles to his feet….SLAP SHOT! The cover! Where's Generic Ref?!
SW: He's busy clearing the ring of Garry's blade…
MM: ONE…TWO…THR--NO! That delay by Generic cost Pain and Pleasure! OOOOH! Spin wheel kick by Barry gave Garry a breather… and Bannister a fat lip! Jean had just stood up when Barry managed that desperation move! G.R. moves Brown back to his corner…Garry's already reaching for a tag.
SW: Jean also going for a tag, but he's not going to make it… Garry has tagged in Barry and he's on Bannister like cheap loafers! Clubbing forearms across Jean's back… stands him up and tries for a right, blocked by Bannister! Jean retaliates with one of his own….
MM: Yikes! Barry dropped to his knees after the right from Jean and unloaded…
SW: Man, he got him right in the stick and pucks!
NH: Low blow or cheap shot would suffice, Scotty.
Coma: Bagpipes make my balls itch.
SW: Can somebody turn his mic off?
MM: Barry now regroups and here comes Garry back in. Double team coming up and Bannister's sent into the cage! Now The Jocks are going after Hungalot and attacking him in his own corner! Jean's laying face down…
SW: Blade time for ole Jeano…
MM: STOP THAT, SCOTTY! Hey look! Hungalot's had enough! He comes in the ring and bulldozes The Generic Ref who rolls across the mat like a lumpy beach ball! The Ambulance Jockeys maul The Big Sir until a bloodied Bannister joins in! Jean takes Barry and sends him for a ride…b-i-I-I-I-i-g back body drop! Hungalot with a zinger of a right decks Garry! Who's legal?!
SW: Like it matters… G.R. is out like a light!
NH: Was that before or after he got ran over?
MM: Hungalot has Barry…HE HITS THE G-SPOT! Submission could be coming!
NH: Hitting the G-spot always makes me submit.
MM: G.R.'s still out! Garry nails Sir Hungalot in the back of the head with a drop kick… sending him face first to the canvas! "The Gurney" now rams Jean into the cage again for good measure, double arm DDT on Hungalot! He places his partner over the former adult film star!
NH: And just in time for Generic Ref's alert unconsciousness to wear off…. he's crawling towards Barry and Hungalot….
MM: Jean broke it up! Well, he kinda fell on the two after staggering around blankly in the ring after tasting the steel. But it works for me!
Coma: Pontoon up Scotty's butt makes Jack a dull boy.
NH: Generic's still a little woozy, he hasn't moved since attempting that last three count. He's lost total control of this one!
SW: That's dumb! When has Generic EVER had control of a match!
MM: Garry's back in and pounding away on Bannister! Barry joins in! Hungalot now fighting to get to his feet...double clothesline as The Jocks turned to face him! Hungalot pauses a minute to catch his breath...lazy powerbomb on Barry! G.R. tries again!
SW: Garry with a match saving legdrop nails The Big Sir! Garry now trying a half hearted bodyslam...got it! He covers Sir H!
NH: How long does the near pin thingee last? I gotta pee.
Coma: I already did. NEEP!
SW: DAMMIT! I thought Monroe spilled his water bottle!
MM: Bannister flings his body into The Ambulance Jockeys and clears everybody out! He just jumped without any regard for his own well being! He's back up...piledriver on Barry! The cover!
SW: Brown slipped out! Must have been all the blood! But he really could stand to bust another capsule, he just looks sunburnt now after the first one has all but washed off! Jean now sending him across the ring with oft used Irish whip...Bannister lowers his head, Barry caught him with a punt kick to the jaw! Jean wobbles back and falls through the ropes...Garry somehow managed a swinging neckbreaker on Hungalot! The Jocks are motioning for opposite corner post!
MM: NO! They're now going to the top of the cage! Look at the camera flashes!
NH: That's Flunkie with a strobe light...who you kidding?
MM: MASS CASUALTY OFF THE TOP OF THE CAGE!
SW: AND THEY MISSED IT!
MM: Hungalot rolled out of the way just in time! Hooks the far leg on Barry...Generic Ref with the slow and deliberate "it's gotta be over after that blown finisher" count!
crowd: ONE..............TWO.............................THREE! (WM III Steamboat over Savage-esque pop)
MA: Ladies and gentlemen! The winners of the match and STILL! "You Gotta Have Friends" Tag-team Champions! PAIN......and......PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESURE!
NH: Whew! I'm busting a gut here, where's the lady's room?!
(She bolts outta there like a Chinese fire drill)
Coma: Spridel and Chim Chim stole my Studabaker. John was always jealous of Ponch cause his ChiPs pants were tighter.
SW: I agree, Coma. Helluva match!
MM: I don't think that's what he meant.
SW: Oh? And since when did you become the expert on Comaspeak?
MM: Since never, but he WAS talking about Erik Estrada's pants for Pete's sake! What's that got to do with a wrestling match?
SW: Bet he had to wrestle to get 'em on! HA!
MM: Hoo boy, you're a regular Carrot Top, aren't ya? (rolls eyes)
SW: Ah, admit it, Mike…you know I'm all that and a witty bag of chips.
MM: I wouldn't say witty, but another word that rhymes with witty comes to mind.
SW: Don't you go there, Monroe…or I'll have you up in that cage beating your skull in! Except you're lucky, Flunkie's adding the big blue steel thingee bars around that chain link fence for our next match, and a feeble man such as yourself couldn't handle that type of punishment! WHOO HOO! Double your pleasure, double your fun! It's douja and SMP in an old style, chain link cage AND surrounded by the big blue steel thingee iron cage we got at a WWF yardsale! Only a cage like THIS could hold those two animals!
MM: And…. there's such a possibility that this thing will get so insane, Generic Ref didn't even want any part of it! We had to get the two biggest, strongest, craziest, and toughest S.O.B.'s in all of wrestling history to control this one!
SW: You mean we got Dick The Bruiser and Abdullah The Butcher?! What happened to Hank and Bo?
MM: I won't even dignify that with an answer….
SW: Fine then, ya big crybaby!
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, this is your super-grudge match of the evening! Introducing first, the special referee, from Intercourse, Pennsylvania…. HOMICIDAL HANK!
(Eddie B. spins a club remix of "I'm Going Slightly Mad" by Queen. Hank struts down the aisle to a major pop, wearing a sleeveless referee shirt, faded blue jeans, and steel toed Doc Marten's. He enters the ominous (?) cage and nods his head to the crowd.)
MA: And if anything should happen to the special referee during this match, we have a SPECIAL ENFORCER to right the wrong! Ladies and gentlemen, from Charleston, West Virginia, here is…. BOHEMOTH!
(Bo lumbers to the ring as Eddie B. plays "In The Hall of the Mountain King" by Greig. Huge pop for the massive miner as he squeezes through the door and slaps five with Hank, the two old, STWF Asylum Alliance buddies together in the same ring for the first time in ages.)
MA: And now…first, from Naples, Italy. This is "The Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer in Wrestling Today™"…. and perhaps EVER, because I don't know any other boobie enhancers in wrestling. Ladies and gentlemen…."The Smooth Operator©™", DR. SILACOOOOooooonne M. PLANTS!
(Eruption of boos as soon as the first notes of Sade's "Smooth Operator" begins to play, almost drowning out her one hit wonder. SMP dodges a landslide of debris as he makes his way to the ring, almost smacking an old lady hanging over the guardrail that tried to pull off his black leather physician's overcoat with "Suck My Scalpel" embroidered across the back. The Doc enters the cage and throws his arms up in triumph, raising the ire of the already pissed fans another decibel or two.)
MA: And his opponent! Formerly from Parts Forgotten…now residing in Compton, California. Smoke Doggie Dogg™, The Rasslin' & Reefer Connection®, "The Man That's Put Away More Grass Than Lawnboy©"…. FANS! This is….. dOOOOOOoooooooou-JAAAA!
(Eddie B. barely gets "How High" spinning before douja sprints down the aisle in a frenzied, mad dash. He slides through the door and under the ropes as SMP immediately begs off and retreats to a far corner. douja oddly is cheered, but only because he's wrestling SMP….against anybody else, he'd probably get booed out of the building. Flunkie locks the cage…)
MM: AH JUNK! These two guys have one of the longest running feuds in wrestling history! They hate each other! Fasten your seat beat, Scotty!
SW: You're such a mark…
(Hank motions for SMP and douja to get things started. SMP approaches douja and douja taps The Doc's chest with his index finger. SMP then wobbles, and executes such an exaggerate, over-acted fall that he jumps straight up in the air and falls flat on his back…rumors start almost immediately amongst the dullard fans that some insists douja had a taser attached to his hand. douja then follows up with such a feathery elbow drop it appeared 30 times less intimidating that the "People's Elbow". The crowd sits speechless as Hank moves into position and counts the three…)
MM: WHAT…THE HELL….. WAS THAT?!
Coma: Can't see the meteor, Captain! I…JUST….CAN'T….DO…IT! Wash my back with a barbed wire sponge, I have a noodle growing out my nipple. Somebody stop the circle, yougottaeatthepuddingyousee. (tips his head in tribute)
SW: Would you shut up?! This IS history, baby!
Bo: Wow! I got paid to enforce THIS? I haven't made a check this easy since that Santa Claus gig.
Hank: Ooooh noooo, Meat. You're gonna EARN this check!
MM: WHAT'S THIS?! Hank just grabbed Bo by the back of the neck and sent him crashing into the cage! WHAT THE HELL?! OHMYGOD! Now ALL three men are mafia stomping the crap out of Bohemoth!
SW: Did somebody replace my Mountain Spring Water with liquid crack? Is that really douja and SMP…WORKING TOGETHER?! WHOO HOO! YEAH, BABY!
MM: SMP and Hank have Bo stretched out…holding down his legs and his arms! douja now kicking away and Bo can't protect himself! What's the meaning of this?! Now what?! SMP sits Bo up and smacks him on the back of the head…BO'S GLASS EYE POPPED OUT! SMP and douja are playing hacky-sak with it as Hank continues the onslaught on Bo! WHAT THE HOLY HELL? Somebody has to stop this!
SW: HEY! It's Billy Polar! The Commissioner has arrived!
MM: FLUNKIE, OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR!
SW: Billy has the mic!
MM: Hopefully Billy can use his commissioner power to stop this slaughter!
BP: Hey! You guys have to stop this! douja, I know we're tight and all that, but I can't let you do this. SMP and Hank, I can't let you two do this either….WITHOUT I, BILLY POLAR, JOINING IN ON THE FUN!
MM: WHAT?! Billy's now stomping Bo! All four men are beating Bohemoth into oblivion! Now SMP has picked the mic off the mat!
SMP: That's right, fat boy. This has been in the making for a long time, we were just waiting for the PERFECT moment! (crowd boos loudly) For what seemed like eternity we sat by while you, Bo, ruled the STWF…all because of your relationship with DK's sister! (crowd boos even louder) You snubbed Hank after you took the I.G. Title, even though he is bigger and stronger than you. You squashed me in an I.G. title match even though I'm a zillion times better on the stick than you'll EVER be! And douja has been your whooping boy for as long as I can remember. Billy, too…was held back in the STWF while you wore the I.G. title, even though he could beat your big, stupid ass with BOTH his GOOD eyes closed! (wall shaking boos) AND THEN! When you got kicked to the curb, you split as soon as possible cause you knew you'd no longer benefit from having a seat at the Kommissaar table. Didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?! (arena shaking boos) Payback's a bitch, GET IT? GOT IT? GOOD! Disappear, scumbag! (pushes Bo over)
MM: THIS IS CRAP! SMP has gone too far! I mean, this is no longer about wrestling…the man has snapped! douja, Hank, and Polar are no better, either! This is the most disgusting thing I've EVER seen in this sport!
SW: Ah, come on…it can't be worse than Ultimate Warrior's "One Warrior Nation" stint in WCW. Now THAT was disgusting! Not to mention sucking a big one!
MM: Shut up, Scotty! I'm being serious! This is horrible! Really, this is too much! They've crossed the line!
(Billy hears Mike, and grabs the mic from SMP)
BP: Hold it right there, MARILYN MONROE! I, Billy polar, have more news! Pain and Pleasure has to come out here and defend the tag-team titles against SMP and douja right NOW! Because, I, Billy Polar, am the commissioner and shit…now AND after I kick VP's ass, so they have to do what I say! If they don't…THEY'RE FIRED!
(Billy tosses the mic over to douja as Hank dumps Bo out of the cage and to the floor.)
douja: dat's right, you bitches! yo, smp and douja gonna turn diss motha out! none of ya'll dumb motha fuckas saw diss shit comin', did ya? get yo ass out here bannister an hungalot, so me an' smp can beat your fuckin' ass! IF YOU SMEEEEELL! WHAT DOUJA…IS SMOKIN'!
(crowd boos louder than hell, especially the ones that cheered for douja earlier)
(Pain and Pleasure run down the aisle to a Luke Warm-like pop, enhanced even more because of what's been going on in the ring. Generic Ref follows behind and all three enter the cage. Hank stands outside and kicks Bo in the gut. Then Hank moves over to Mike and Scotty. Billy gets a kick on Bo before he heads up the aisle and back to the locker room area to prepare for his match.)
MM: This is B.S.! Pain and Pleasure already wrestled tonight!
SW: Temper…TEMpeeeer. P&P HAS to wrestle! Billy's the commissioner, so whatcha gonna do? Besides, this is fair, SMP and douja also wrestled tonight.
MM: YEAH! For like 8 seconds! Jean and Big Sir's match lasted a lot longer than that! And SMP and douja didn't even do anything! P&P suffered ten times more punishment in their match!
Hank: Hello, ladies.
MM: Hank, why? Why'd you do it? Bo's been a long time friend of yours.
Hank: Wrong answer, Meat. I have only two REAL friends, and they're both green. Spike and the almighty dollar, that's it. Bo was just a casualty of war, he will NOT be the only one. And so SMP busted his chops about being cuddly with DK's sis. All's fair in love and war.. and this IS war.
MM: SMP with a wild right at Bannister, Jean ducks and connects with a right of his own! Another! And another! Yet another! Yeah! Kick his ass, Bannister! The crowd reacting to every punch! He sends Plants sailing over the ropes and into the cage! douja's in, and he gets sent into the cage by Jean! Here comes Hungalot! He has douja and is pounding away! Bannister slams SMP into the cage again, the dirty boob slumps to the canvas!
Coma: Pat Sajak smokes sausage. Neep!
SW: Is he STILL here? What happened to Heidi? That must be a lo-o-o-o-o-ng line at the restroom! Hey, SMP's bloody! Come on!
(Hank sits up in his chair)
Hank: Pardon me…
(Hank goes over and kicks Bo again. Returns to announce area)
Hank: Ah, I feel better now.
SW: So Hank, what are you guys calling this party?
Hank: Well, we thought about calling it The Millionaires Club, but since WCW already used that and since none of us will ever make a million working for this dump of a fed, we settled on "The Not Quite Millionaires Club". Catchy, huh? Excuse me.
(He goes over and stomps Bo again. Then returns)
MM: Bannister is tearing SMP apart! So much for your dominant faction, Hank! How you like that, Scotty? Your heel heroes are getting it handed to 'em!
SW: That's just an adrenaline rush, dummy. Once that buzz wears off, Pain and Pleasure is toast! See! SMP made the tag to douja, watch the tide turn, goof ball!
MM: Bannister blocks douja's punch! HA! DDT! Jean tags in Hungalot…who's going up top! ELBOW DROP OFF THE TOP ROPE!
Hank: SPLAT! Ahhhh, he missed it. * sniffle *
SW: The vultures are circling now, Monroe! douja gets to his feet…CHRONIC NECK PAIN! Turn out the lights….the party's over…..they say that all….good things must end.
MM: I hate you, Scotty. The cover. ONE…TWO…BROKEN UP BY BANNISTER!
Hank: Just delaying the inevitable…
SW: Generic Ref trying to restore order and get Bannister out, SMP's in and just nailed Hungalot with a small, black glove! Hungalot drops like a lead zepplin! Now SMP goes back to his corner and flops to motionless on the mat like he's been there the whole time! Generic bought it! The cover by douja! ONE….TWO….THREE! YEAH, BABY! YEAH!
MM: This is a bunch of bunk! That tiny glove HAD to be loaded! Nobody gets knocked out like that by a tiny glove!
SW: You know what they say…if the glove don't fit, you must acquit!
MM: Acquit my ass! I saw him use it! Pain and Pleasure was robbed!
Hank: Sing it to the judge, little man. We're outta here. Going to celebrate…
MM: THIS IS BULLSH…
SW: Chill out, Mike, before you blow a gasket.
MM: I WILL NOT CHILL OUT! These guys have taken this far beyond the wrestling ring! Who's going to stand up to these thugs?
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of the match…Dr. Silaconne M. Pl…(SMP covers the mic with his hand and whispers into Masked Announcer's ear) Ladies and Gentlemen, the winners of this match, "The Smooth Operator™", Dr. Silaconne M. Plants and "The Man with 15 Inches of Chocolaty Goodness™", douja…. and NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW "YGHF" TAG-TEAM CHAMPIONS………"SMOOTH AND CHOCOLATY!"
(The fans boo loudly and pelt the threesome with waded cups and an old NKOTB poster as they head back to the dressing room. SMP gets beaned in the head with a beer bottle just before he gets behind the curtain)
MM: That was the most horrible thing I've ever witnessed. Bo is still laying here at ringside, Pain and Pleasure just got the screw job of the century… what could possibly be next? We still have two matches to go! Let's go to the back while Flunkie takes the cage down and we get some medical attention for these guys out here.
SW: Dude, that was sweet. We finally got some heels around here! WHOOOOOO!
(The cameras pan to the back where Billy Polar is down the hallway towards the ring. His face shows pure focused intensity as he cleans out his ear and adjusts his package. Suddenly he comes face to face with Da Sassy Bitch. The crowd starts to pop and then they remember who Da Sassy Bitch is. They engage in a menacing staredown for a few seconds.)
DSB: Don't think this is over, Billy Polar.
BP: Oh, it's over for YOU. You better hope I don't win tonight, because if I do, you're gonna have to face the Pardy Boyz in a handicap match in EVERY match FOR THE REST OF YOUR CAREER!!
[The crowd pops big time. Why? Don't ask me.]
DSB: I ain't afraid of you, Polar. Get a clue. Nobody is. And TONIGHT, you're gonna get the ass-licking you deserve! Ass-licking? What the-? Must be a typo. Who wrote this damned script anyway?
BP: Heh heh. Get out of my way, fag!
DSB: I'M NOT GAY!
[Suddenly, Billy pops Sassy in the face and slams his head against the wall.]
BP: When will they ever learn that I'M BILLY POLAR, DAMMIT!! And I don't have time to waste on THAT pantywaste.
[Billy then emerges from behind the curtains and the crowd goes crazy. Until he picks up a microphone and then the cheers turn to boos.]
Well, Billy Polar making short work of Da Sassy Bitch, folks. And now he has a mic!
BP: Well, well, well. What a Pay-Per-View this has been! I bet none of you saw that coming, did you! We're Not-Quite-Millionaires, but we've still got enough money between us to rule BOB for YEARS to come! And who can stand against us? Romaine? Da Bitch? VP? HA!! We're unbeatable, and what with I, Billy Polar, as commissioner, life's about to get a lot more interesting---FOR US!! Ha-ha! By the way, remember when I said earlier that The Kan't get a Date Krew and the Dungeon of Gum got to face the tag team champs at MMM 16? I said if it was Drain and Plunger or The Ambianced Jokeys. I didn't say ANYTHING about them getting a shot at SMP and Smoke Dogg! So, NO SHOT FOR YOU GUYS! BWA HAA HAA! See what a Harvard grad can do? Go ahead, scroll back up...I mean, rewind the tape and check it out! They...get...NOTHING! Happy days are here again! Uhhhh, da-deedee-da-da-dee-dee-da-dee! Okay, so I don't know the words, but it doesn't matter, BECAUSE I'M BILLY POLAR, DAMMIT!! And today, I'll show you WHY I have been labeled the GREATEST white luchador EVER in the history of this or ANY universe!!!
MM: Oh please! He's the ONLY white luchador in the world. Give me a break!
SW: No, give HIM a break, Mike! He is the highest paid and most talented, uhhh, talent we've got and TONIGHT he'll show us why!
MM: If he's so talented, then how come he never wrestles? I think he's full of shit, to tell you the truth!
SW: Language, Mike! Language! Now come on! He just recently defended his title against the Neige. I mean, come on! The Neige is a great wrestler! And Billy beat him in, like, five seconds!
MM: Yeah, after 500 people ran in to help him....
SW: OH NO! He beat him BEFORE everybody else beat Neige's ass! You're just jealous because he has a bigger paycheck, and a bigger ego, and a bigger, well, should I continue?
BP: No you shouldn't. Now, this being Pay Per View, I, Billy Polar, have pulled out all the stops. I even signed a special referee for this match. He's one of my mentors, actually. Ladies and jerk-offs, might I introduce, Rrrraoul Rrrramon Rrrramirrrezzzz!!!
SW: What do you mean, uh-oh?
MM: Let's just say, this is not a good sign.
Coma: Ooooh, yeeee-ah!! I AYAM the Macho Cow! But who really knows what's in mayonnaise? Scotty Whatbody's momma is wearing my underwear!
SW: Why, mommy?! WHYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!
MM: Wow, what an emotional pay-per-view.
BP: And now, as a special treat for you fans, I will now introduce the special guest timekeeper.
SW: Yeah! It's Bob Newhart!! I know it! I love you, Bob!
BP: He also happens to be my favorite musical artist, as well. Ladies and dipshits, I am damn proud to introduce--MASTER P!!
MP: HOOTY HOO!!!
[Master P jogs to ringside with his hand on his balls.]
MP: Yo yo yo! Hooty hoo!
[Suddenly the BigBOSS jumps over the guardrail and brains Master P with the ring bell.]
Coma: Not in MY federation, Billy. Nuh-uh! I don't think so! Not NOW, not EVER!!!
BP: Whatever. Well, come on, VP! Get in the ring already! Where are you? Hmm. Will somebody check the bathrooms? He probably had to take another violent piss!
[Suddenly, VP emerges from under the ring, rolls in, turns Billy around, and stares him in the face just an inch away from his nose.]
SW: Wow! WHAT is VP doing? Why didn't he attack Polar when he had the chance?
MM: I think he's trying to psyche him out, Scotty. Mind games.
SW: Well, only one can play at that game, Mike. And that "one" is Billy Polar!! See? There you go. Billy Polar just asked VP for a test of strength. What the hell?!
MM: What the hell is right! VP accepting. And oh! They both had the same idea. They both kicked each other in the nuts at the same time!
SW: Ramirez now administering the double knockout count!
SW: Uno? What the hell does that mean? I wish these foreign idiots would speak English, for crying out loud!! I mean, this is America here, people! GAWD!!
MM: Will you be quiet! Sheesh. The two men brawling now. Billy misses with a right hand, but connects on VP's back. VP answers with a shot to the pit of Billy's stomach. Billy on the mat now. He's gasping for breath like a fish!
SW: No, he's not! He's just regrouping. That's all. He's not a brawler. He's a WRESTLER. Keep that in mind, you moron! He's just toying with him. Yeah. That's all. Go, Speed Racer! Go! I mean, Billy! Yeah! Kick his ass!
MM: VP now with a Gorilla press. He's walking from corner to corner and asking the audience if he should toss Billy outside the ring!
SW: Oh man! I guess the loudest side gets a free Billy Polar. COME ON, BILLY! DO SOMETHING!!
Coma: Poink! Green grass grows greener in Greenland. The peptic ulcer isn't from Russia, Maxwell. It's from Spain. Doy! Horton hears a bus collision!
MM: VP now about to toss Polar over--but wait! Billy is holding onto VP by the ears! They BOTH go over! Wow! Both men lying on the floor in incredible pain.
SW: Man! They've been out there for a while now. Why isn't the referee counting?
[The camera shows Raoul Ramon Ramirez standing in the ring with a donut in one hand and a newspaper in the other.]
MM: Billy to his feet first. Now, VP up. But Bill lands a flying kick to the back of the head!
SW: VP down like a hot-headed housewife!
MM: Oh, God. #sigh# The views expressed by Scotty Whatbody are NOT the opinions of BOB or any affiliated parties. Now, will you please THINK before you talk and stop being a bastard?
SW: But I am a bastard, actually. I don't know who my father was. Thanks a lot, asshole!!
MM: Oh. I had no idea. I sincerely apologize, Scotty.
SW: You're damn right you're sorry, you son of a bitch! OHH! Did you see that?
MM: Yeah. Billy just dropped VP rib-first onto that aluminum guardrail! Oh my! VP kicks him off and then caught him by surprise with a snap suplex! He throws Billy in the ring, and, I DON'T BELIEVE IT!! He's already going for the Nine-Inch Nailer!!
SW: NO! NOOOO!!
MM: He hit it! Ohmigod!
SW: Alright! Here comes douja to the ring!
MM: But wait! There's the Kent State Krew!
SW: Or, the Three Gay Caballeros, as they're known in Mexico.
MM: THEY ARE NOT! And anyway, they're making short work of douja. So where's SMP and Homicidal Hank and the others?
SW: Drunk off their asses, I guess. douja's the only one who's used to that! THIS ISN'T FAIR!!
MM: WHAT? Hank is notorious as Blackjack Hooligan for his drinking! VP going for the cover! 1--2----uhhhh, is it just me, or is this count a little long? The hand lowering now for the three! But NO! Polar kicked out! Polar kicked out!
SW: (jumping out of his seat)YAAAAAAYYYY!! What a competitor! Yes! Come on, Billy!
MM: This just stinks, and your heel support is really annoying, Scotty. I can't believe this! Billy now with a small package! He caught VP by surprise and he's really got those legs wrapped up! 1--2------what the? Another long count?
BP: Dammit, Raoul! I'M Billy Polar, dammit! I AM!!
SW: Yeah! Do your job, ref!
MM: VP now from behind with a back suplex, but Billy flips out of it before he can get him over! Billy now with a kick and a spinning heel leg lariat. VP up right away and he's chasing Billy to the ropes. Billy responds with a corkscrew Asai!! Incredible!
SW: There, you see? You SEE?! That's why he is who he is!
MM: VP flat on the mat now, and Billy nails him with a rolling legdrop! Ouch. Billy now lifts him up for a suplex. No, a brain buster!
SW: IT'S THE ANEURYSM! IT'S THE ANEURYSM!! PIN HIM! PIN HIM!
MM: 123! That was a quick count! No way! He was robbed!!
[Ramirez turns to signal for the bell to ring, but VP stops him and just stares angrily in his face. Billy Polar, meanwhile, is busy whooping it up on the ring apron.]
BP: I'm still Commissioner! Nyah-Nyah! (he gives the crowd a raspberry)
VP: This match is NOT over.
RRR: Uhh. Djou da boss, esse'. Wha-tever djou say, esse'.
SW: What the heck is going on?
MM: I don't know, but VP just dropkicked Billy off the apron! And now what's VP doing? He's searching underneath the ring for something.
SW: But so's Billy. What's going on?
MM: Ohmigod. I can't believe this. Billy's got that tranquilizer gun of his! And he fires it at VP! But it hit his baseball bat instead! It's Mr. Bat! He's got Mr. Bat!
Coma: Neep! Did I run out of lines? Britney Spears plays halfback for the Chicago Bears! Perry Saturn stole my gimmick!
SW: NOOO!! I've gotta do something!
MM: What the hell? Scotty just left the broadcast booth and he's running towards VP. Ooh! He just got nailed with Mr. Bat, but that may have given Billy time to---NO! He got nailed, too! VP rolls him into the ring and goes for the cover! 1--2--------3!!! He did it! He did it!
**ding ding ding**
[We got a bell? WHATAPAYPERVIEW!]
VP's the new commissioner!! VP's also the new Swiss Army Champion!!! Hallelujah! The witch is dead!
[VP raises his bat and the strap above his head and the crowd goes absolutely nuts. Billy Polar is still lying unconscious in the ring as VP makes his exit through the crowd. Suddenly, he weakly raises his head and looks around in confusion.]
BP: (with a look of amazement in his eyes as the realization hits him) Uh-oh.
MM: Billy Polar making his way over to the referee.
BP: Do you REALIZE what you just did?! You pinned the WRONG GUY!!
RRR: I sorry, esse'. Djou white gringos all look dee sane to mee.
BP: (breathing heavily) Don't panic. DON'T PANIC!! I can fix this! I've been to Harvard, after all. I know. I'll just reverse the decision. Yeah. That's all.
MM: But you forget, Billy. You're not the commissioner anymore. You no longer have the power to do that.
[Suddenly Billy Polar just passes out and collapses on the floor.]
MM: Huh. I guess he fainted. Well, Coma. What's next on the card?
Coma: Poink! The boll weevils are attacking New York. Mow my lawn and call me a sissy. O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum, you smell so stu-pid to me! Squeeee-nurfle!
MM: Yup, like he said folks... it's MAIN EVENT TIME!
MA: Ladies and gentlemen... it is now time for our MAIN EVENT!! (Huge pop) Introducing at this time, our special Guest Timekeeper! The Li'lBOSS!
MM: What, we couldn't even afford a celebrity timekeeper for the Main Event? Not even the ICP? DAMN! Pray for a buy-rate, guys, or we're all on welfare!
MA: And now... introducing the champion... the World Champion... in fact, the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS... From Scotland, England... SIR DONALD McKILLALOT!
(A Highland Pipe Band borrowed from a nearby high school emerges from the locker room area. Half of them are playing "Scotland The Brave", half are playing "The Rising Of The Moon", and one guy is playing "Purple Haze". Donald strides out to the resultant cacophany and headbutts The Masked Announcer for the "Scotland, England" line. The Li'lBOSS quickly slides in to take over the announce duties.)
LB: *ahem*.... Due to the Dons' insistance that we cannot use the BOB Medium-Sized Bucket™ to determine the Number One Contender to the OWTTM, the BigBOSS has been forced to make an Executive Descion... for once. And therefore... the opponent.. and challenger...
(The lights dim... a fanfare plays softly, then rises to ear-jangling volume.)
LB: THE TIGER!
(Earth-shaking "Holy Crap"-style pop from the fans as the former two-time STWF Intergalactic champion enters the arena. He even gets some cheap pyro.)
MM: The TIGER! THE Legend! The Immortal! This is going to be the biggest PPV main Event EVER! Can you feel the electricty in the air?! Here we go!!
MM: McPiledriver! McPiledriver!! McPiledriver!!! 1! 2!! 3!!!!
LB: Here is your winner... and still, ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS! DONALD McKILLALOT!
SW: What the hell was that?!!! Well, I guess you DO have to cut promos to win titles in BOB, huh Mikey?
Coma: Poink! Squeek!
MM: I couldn't agree more! Well, apart from that shit-house main event, it's been a spectacular night... So, for Head Trauma Boy Coma and Scotty Whatbody, I'm Mike "The Monotone" Monroe saying, so long, and thanks for ordering "Pay-Per-View" on Pay-per-view! Goodnight!
© 2001 BOB Wrestling! Duh, what, no GBH?