[Fade in on an ass.]
[The camera pulls back to reveal…Scotty Whatbody.]
Scotty Whatbody: If you want gas…you've got it!
Styles: There's one gas shortage I wish we had. Hello everyone, and welcome to Running On Empty! I'm Mikey Styles, along with Scotty Whatbody and his amazing butt trumpet. Can we get this thing started properly now?
[The sound of Kitaro falling asleep at his keyboard makes everyone in the ballroom do nothing in particular. Chingachgook steps out in a silky kimono and clogs.]
Nurse Heidi: The opening contest of Running on Empty is set for one stupid ending. Introducing first, from Taipei, Taiwan, he weighs in at 128 years old…sorry, that's POUNDS. My bad. *Ahem* How the HELL do I pronounce your name? Oh, these damn foreigners!
Styles: OK, and we're off and sputtering. What can you tell us about this newcomer to BOB, Scotty?
SW: Chingachgook is a former Shaolin monk who decided to travel the world learning every martial art known to man. And I'm pretty sure he's older than 128 years old. This guy needed a walker when Jesus was in diapers, Styles.
Styles: Oh, that's not fair. He's not even USING a walker.
SW: Facts shmacts. He's so old, his memory is in black and white. He makes John McCain look YOUNG.
Styles: We get the point, Scotty.
SW: Do you, Styles? Do you?
NH: And his opponent…
["Song 2" by Blur begins playing. The arena lights darken. TITANIC POP!]
NH: *inaudible announcing*
Styles: *inaudible talking*
SW: *inaudible sarcasm*
[The Flunky is furiously smoking an entire pack of cigarettes and blowing smoke at the entryway for a "fog" effect. After several puffs, he collapses. Somebody else flicks the lights off and on for a "strobe" effect entrance. Then, finally, Angelfire emerges in the dark and fog for his first appearance in BOB. Then, a bolt of lightning hit him. Lights out. When they came back on, he was gone. Crowd angry!]
SW: The fuck?
Styles: Where did Angelfire go? Is he, dead?
SW: How many more wrestlers must die before there's an investigation! See what steroids do to our sport? They make you kill your family, pop your quads, and get hit by lightning. When will this madness end?
Styles: I don't know, Scotty. I just don't know.
NH: Umm…here's your winner due to an act of God…the old dude from Taiwan!
SW: Well, that was certainly BOB-like.
Styles: You only get non-action like this in BOB. Speaking of non-action, Total Non-Action Wrestling iMPLOSION returns to G5 TV on Wednesday!
SW: Which Wednesday?
Styles: One of them! OH MY GOD! It's gonna be EXTREME!
Disembodied Voice of Angelfire: BOB u havv n0t seen the last ovv angelfyyyyyyyyyyre!!!!!
Crowd: ANGEL-FIRE! ANGEL-FIRE! ANGEL-FIRE!
[Sounds of stuff breaking fill the arena.]
Styles: And we're gonna keep the action going.
SW: How did you say that with a straight face? Did you get botox?
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest begins now. Introducing first, from Bumbeldink, Texas, weighing in at 255 pounds, this is Luke Warm!
[Luke stomps down the aisle, giving thumbs up to the fans along the way.]
SW: *cough*rickbogner*cough* Is his contract almost up yet?
Styles: I think so.
["I Don't Like the Drugs (But the Drugs Like Me)" by Marilyn Manson plays next.]
NH: And his opponent, from Weed, California, he weighs in at 220 pounds and represents the Hierarchy, the only Heavenly Olympic gold medalist in parody e-wrestling today, Kurt Angel!
Crowd: YOU'RE STONED! YOU'RE STONED! YOU'RE STONED!
Styles: The man who calls himself the greatest parody wrestler in the World Wide Web today.
SW: If BOB had a doobie smoking champion, he'd be champ for life. But we don't, so he'll never have any titles here, thankfully.
Styles: He once held the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS!
SW: Yeah, but you also held TWO titles here, which totally invalidates any kind of argument you want to throw at me. Only in BOB. You never even gave me a title shot. Pussy.
Styles: Hey! Don't blame me, blame BigBOSS. Well fans, last month at Power is Stolen, Kurt Angel took out Luke Warm by Heavenly Slamming him through a plate glass window. He then went on to the main event and he claims he pinned the current ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, Steve Studnuts.
SW: No way. Studnuts kicked out. The match didn't end, did it? Right! You seriously think Studs is gonna job to someone in the HIERARCHY? Bwahahaha!
Styles: It's a battle of the baldies here. Angel and Warm lockup. Angel with a wristlock, but Warm reverses. Angel with a quick escape.
SW: What's with the prancing? Is he a fallen angel or a fallen heterosexual?
Styles: Here we go again. Warm unloading on Angel now with punches. And Angel bails out of the ring after absorbing Warm's blows. Warm tries to grab Angel on the floor, but he gets tripped. Angel Lock! But Angel's on the floor and Warm is in the ropes.
[Generic Ref is scratching his head, confused.]
SW: Bwahaha! Generic Ref doesn't know what to do!
Styles: Count out Angel on the floor, or administer the five count for him to break the hold? Angel just doubled his time on BOTH counts!
SW: I think you're underestimating Generic Ref's stupidity.
GR: One! One! Two! Two! Uh…where was I?
Styles: Angel is doing all kinds of damage to Luke's ankle here. Warm is grabbing onto Generic Ref's pants! Generic Ref is trying to pull back now, and that's bringing Kurt back inside as a result. Nice strategy there by Warm. But wait. Luke isn't done?
SW: The hell?
Styles: He's crawling over Generic Ref now! Sunset flip on Generic Ref! And Kurt goes flying through the ropes! Unbelievable counter to the Angel Lock!
SW: Is Generic Ref counting himself out?
Styles: TWO! But Kurt makes the save!
SW: Is this a triple threat now?
Styles: Who knows.
SW: Looks like a picked the wrong week to quit taking Vicodin.
[Sounds of pills rattling.]
Styles: Scotty! No!
SW: The pain of BOB is just too much to take.
Styles: But they make you bitter, sexist…and a little racist.
SW: And that's different for me, how? Hey!
Styles: Did Kurt just steal your Vicodin!
SW: Give those back!
KA: Stealers, keepers.
[Kurt downs the pills.]
Styles: STONECUTTER by Warm!
[Dozens of pills fly out of Kurt's mouth.]
SW: Thanks, Luke! You know, you aren't such a bad—
Styles: STONECUTTER ON SCOTTY! OH MY GOD!
[Sounds of stuff breaking fill the arena (along with tons of boos). Luke climbs up on the EZ Break Announce Desk. The Flunky throws him a Luke-Hoo. Then another. And a third. Luke cracks them open, salutes the crowd, and dumps them in the vicinity of his face. I'm sure some Luke-Hoo went down his throat, but not much. Hey, gimmick or not, I wouldn't drink that swill either.]
Styles: Lukeamania is running wild in BOB once again! Um…is this match over?
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, both Luke Warm and Kurt Angel were unable to make it back into the ring by the 10 count. Therefore, your winner…Generic Ref?
[The crowd pops for Generic Ref.]
[Luke gets off the desk.]
Styles: Run, Generic Ref, run!
[Generic Ref is on the second rope, soaking up the confusion of the crowd. Luke Warm is waiting for him when he finally gets off the ropes.]
Styles: STONECUTTER! STONECUTTER! STONECUTTER! With god as my witness, Generic Ref has been broken in half by 99.44% Pure Luke-Hoo! Scotty? Scotty, are you OK? Fans, it's total chaos. Let's head backstage. Take it, Mike.
MM: Screw you, Styles, I still want my job back. I'm here now with Joe Bananas! Joe, welcome back to BOB.
JB: Thanks, Mike. I can't wait to get back to wrestling for BOB once again.
MM: What are you hoping to accomplish here now that you're back from your severe injuries?
JB: Actually, never mind. I don't want to come back right now. Thanks, Mike.
[Joe walks away?]
MM: Um. OK. That was odd.
[Kevin the Pyromaniac suddenly appears on screen. He's completely covered in smoke and soot.]
KtP: No more, Satan! Noooo!
MM: Kevin? I thought you were in hell?
KtP: (Kevin looks around, confused) Great. I am now! I was just kidding Satan! Let me come home!
[Kevin vanishes just as he appeared.]
MM: What in the world is going on?
[Joe Bananas wanders back over.]
JB: Mike! Long time no see! How's it going?
MM: I really couldn't say.
[Zombie Mr. Fantastic stumbles into the shot and attacks Joe Bananas!]
MM: Good lord. Zombie Mr. Fantastic is eating Joe Bananas' face! He's not food! He's people. Oh, the humanity.
[Jerri Li runs into the shot wielding a flamethrower.]
MM: Zombie Joe Bananas is eating Jerri's face! Fire! Fire!
[The Fire Chief runs into the shot and extinguishes the blaze.]
MM: Thank you, Fire Chief.
TFC: Me have severe reservation about this cameo, paleface. And that joke. Come to my casino, kemosabe.
TFC: In car. Also, watch my new comedy act.
MM: Comedy act?
TFC: Yes. What you call Indian walking dog?
[Zombie Mr. Fantastic eats The Fire Chief's face! Mike gets splattered with gore.]
[Kevin the Pyromaniac reappears again as everyone else suddenly vanishes.]
KtP: FIRE~! Well, guess it's back to feuding with Trey for me…Hey, what's this? (Kevin picks up a plastic bottle.) Cure For Zombieness? Hmm. Better hang onto, whoa!
[Kevin slips on Joe Bananas and lands on his head. Vanishes. Again. The Cure For Zombieness cures Joe's zombiefication. Joe gets up, dusts himself off, and looks at Zombie Mr. Fantastic eating The Fire Chief. Jerri Li spins Joe around. Tombstone piledriver! She grabs a BRANDing iron.]
JL: Take that you god damned zombie!
[Joe vanishes. Zombie Mr. Fantastic is using an artery like it's a straw to suck out The Fire Chief's blood.]
MM: You better have a designated driver if you're planning on driving after drinking so much of the Fire Chief's blood. I don't know what's higher, his blood alcohol content or Amy Winehouse. Hiyo. Well, Styles. That's about it back here at the moment. Fire. Blood. Death. Zombies. The usual. Back to you.
[Back in the Whereeverthehellweare Ballroom, Little Good, Coma and Hallucination Boy are in the ring. Little Good has the microphone.]
LG: Right. Let's get this bloody match over with already. Get those nancyboys Harker, Mano, and Ken out here.
[Coma has the mic.]
Coma: Nosey parker can't lose, naff! That manky Gordon Bennett nicked my bloomin' cobblers! Neep!
Styles: You back with us, Scotty?
SW: Yeah. Kurt Angel. I so would've kicked his ass if Luke didn't kick mine!
Styles: Sure, Scotty. Forget the overproduced Seth Harker intro, this fight is underway. Harker, Ken and Mano hit the ring, and we've got fights. Little Good, Coma and Hallucination Boy have some scores to settle with Insano Mano and Kamikazie Ken.
SW: Yeah, they raked all three of them. Little Good just finished his counseling at the Sin City Rake Crisis Center.
Styles: And of course, Coma and Hallucination Boy were brutally beaten early on the Grand Slam tournament on Total Non-Action Wrestling iMPLOSION!
SW: Oh, come on. Coma's a Head Trauma Boy. He probably doesn't even remember what happened to him three minutes ago. And Hallucination Boy probably thinks he got run over by a train.
Styles: PLANCHA! By Coma? Coma just wiped out Kamikazie Ken on the floor. Little Good and Harker alone in the ring now. Dropkick takes Little Good down
LG: Bloody hell!
SW: And frustrated by his suckiness at wrestling, LG bails out.
Styles: Whoawhoawhoa! Harker has Mano? OH MY GOD! He just threw Mano onto Little Good on the floor!
Crowd: Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap!
Styles: Springboard buster by Hallucination Boy on Harker. Now Harker getting out of there. Hallucination Boy's going after him though.
SW: Oh, look. Everyone's huddling up on the floor now just as Coma starts climbing the ropes.
Styles: Coma wipes out EVERYBODY!
SW: Just like his brain cells were wiped out years ago.
Styles: Mano and Coma head back into the ring. Mule uppercut by Coma.
SW: I seriously hope Coma never opens a wrestling school.
Styles: Mano off the ropes. Asai…kneelift? Oh my GOD! That was—
SW: Moronic with a side of asinine. Not to mention weak looking as fuck.
Styles: Susurro en el viento!
SW: Speak English! You're making Lou Dobbs cry. Hey, look, what a concept, a TAG in a TAG match. I almost thought this was a six-man spotfest.
Styles: Not that you mind.
SW: Hell no. More chance of somebody getting hurt. It's the same reason I watch football. Sin City Icons, baby! Woohoo! You think they'll start Donovan McNabb or Ben Rothcheeseburger this week?
Styles: What are you talking about? Please, focus.
SW: Why start now? Aaron Rodgers? Is that owner guy crazy?
Styles: Ken tags in Harker. Harker up top! Moonsault on Coma! Mano up top! Another moonsault! Now Ken up for three moonsaults in a row on Coma. Nice teamwork by Ken, Mano and Harker here. Hey, Scotty, look who's in the audience! It's Kid Pirate!
SW: Indeed it is. I guess Pretty Boy's finally out of the pet hospital from that vicious Nipple Cutter on iMPLOSION at the hands of Dr. Silaconne M. Plants.
Styles: Think he's here for revenge on Plants?
SW: No, I'm guessing Kid Pirate's here to set up some sort of lower card feud since SMP is main eventing lately.
Styles: *Ahem* Harker down on the mat, and Ken just spinebusted Coma back-first onto Harker's knees! That's gotta hurt.
SW: You'd think it'd hurt more for him to land ON the mat, but what do I know. I'm just a color commentator.
Styles: Are you OK? You're trashing heels.
SW: I need Vicodin! Fuck everybody.
Styles: Mano with a slingshot knee drop! Ken back in now. Ram! Ram! Ram! Right to the midsection. Mano trying to make the tag. Coma dives and—
HB: TRAIN! *Dives off apron*
Styles: Tags in Little Good by default. Little Good and Harker going at it now. Look at Little Good go! He's throwing wild punches, and actually connecting with some of them. Ken charges.
LG: Hey, a penny.
[Little Good bends down to pick it up, making an accidental back drop on Ken in the process.]
SW: Talk about good luck. I wish I found a penny.
Styles: Kick takes Harker down. A punch takes Ken down. Kick for Mano.
SW: He's a basics of wrestling machine.
Styles: Gory Scissors Elbow by Hallucination Boy on Mano! Little Good floors Ken with a glancing spin kick. Coma's got Harker up top. Five-Star Abdominal Stretch Splash!? Are you kidding me?
SW: OK. That was just insane! Bwahahaha!
Styles: One! Two! No! Somehow Harker kicked out of that one.
SW: He's got the greatest superpower of all, Styles. Booking power. He is the Acting BigBOSS, don't forget.
Styles: Hallucination Boy with a crab flip on Mano! There's one for Kamikazie Ken! Damn!
SW: And Little Good follows up all that cool stuff with more punch-kick offense. Give him a bald spot and paint him orange, and I'd swear he's Hulk Hogan.
Styles: Mano just got dumped by Little Good.
SW: I didn't even know they were dating. How sad. Must've been the language barrier.
Styles: To the FLOOR, Scotty. Smart Bomb by Kamikazie Ken takes down Little Good.
SW: More like Stupid Bomb. Ken just dove at Little Good headfirst like he was a human missile. That was an inverted missile dropkick. Sonofabitch. None of these people should be allowed to wrestle. Or vote. Or drive. Or live. Seriously.
Styles: OH my GOD! HB just pulled Coma out of the way of a Kenton Bomb!
SW: BOB's human javelin strikes again. I'm sure the canvas is crying out in pain after that one. Not to mention Ken's spine. Did his mom screw a jellyfish or something?
Styles: Chin claw by Coma! Will Mano give up from this painful submission?
SW: If he does, he'll never be able to show his face in…oh wait, never mind. Is that why he wears the mask now? He once gave up to this lame ass submission?
Styles: It could be, Scotty. Superkick by Harker takes down Hallucination Boy. INSANO-SAULT! One! Two! No! Coma breaks it up. Harker and LG trading chops and punches now. Harker whips Little Good to the corner. Little Good is in the tree of woe, and oh woe is Little Good.
[Harker backs up to the opposite corner. "Rising Sun" by Bexta hits. Harker takes off in slow-motion, charging toward Little Good. He leaps up in the air, dropkick style, aiming right toward Little Good's face. As Harker continues to fall toward his target, he pulls out a cardboard sign: "Eat It, Sabin!" Once Harker FINALLY hits the delayed dropkick, we return to normal speed.]
Styles: And that brings the BOB fans to their feet here in Sin City. Harker heading up top now. Little Good's up.
Styles: One-armed powerbomb by Little Good! What a reversal!
SW: It wasn't a reversal! He sneezed! It was luck! Damnit! I need that penny.
Styles: Mano charges at Little Good now. Oh man! All three men are down. Cover? COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE! HEGOTHIM!
SW: Who got who? What happened? I was looking for my pills.
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winner, Little Good, Coma, and Hallucination Boy!
Styles: When Mano charged, Seth's face collided with the back of Little Good's head. Little Good ricocheted off Seth and Mano and Little Good's faces collided. By some fluke, Seth ended up beneath Little Good and Mano and got pinned, Scotty.
SW: Can we get a replay of that?
Styles: Let's see…
Styles: When Mano charged, Seth's face collided with the back of Little Good's head. Little Good ricocheted off Seth and Mano and Little Good's faces collided. By some fluke, Seth ended up beneath Little Good and Mano and got pinned, Scotty.
SW: Not of STYLES explaining what just happened! Of the MATCH!
Styles: Wait, this isn't over! Mano and Ken have the dreaded rakes! Oh, Coma just got raked! And there's a rake shot to the skull. Hello! Low blow by Mano on Hallucination Boy. And now Mano and Ken are destroying Little Good with the rakes. Isn't there anybody who can stop this? Kid Pirate! Kid Pirate hits the ring. And he's got some lumber of his own!
Pretty Boy: RARRK!
Styles: SPRINGBOARD PARROT PLANCHA BY PRETTY BOY TAKES MANO DOWN!
SW: Oh. My. God.
Styles: Pretty Boy's hardcore! Kid Pirate hits the Skull & Crossbones on Ken!
Crowd: Welcome back, ARRRRR! Welcome back, ARRRRR! Welcome back, ARRRRR!
Styles: Kid Pirate with a rock star reception here in Sin City. But he's not done yet! Oh no! The ring has been cleared except for one man. Seth Harker.
SW: Oh no! Get out of there Seth! Or at least protect your jewels!
Styles: Kid Pirate's off the ropes! THE BLACK PEARLS! OH MY GOD! He just stomped Harker's groin with that peg leg! And the fans are loving it. Wow. What a return to BOB for Kid Pirate. But he just hit our Acting BigBOSS in the groin. No good can come of this.
SW: He may not ever be able to come again!
Styles: Who, Seth? Oh, Scotty.
SW: Seth may have a ruptured testicle! This isn't funny! Getting hit in the groin is not funny! See?
SW: BWAHAHAHA! Actually, that was pretty funny! Well, since Styles is crumpled up in the fetal position, let's head backstage to see what's up with the tag champs.
[Mike Monroe is standing with Steve Studnuts and Dr. Silaconne M. Plants. Both men have their tag straps draped over their right shoulders. Studnuts has the Swiss Army Belt title buckled around his right thigh and the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS around his left thigh. Insano Mano can be seen in the distance smoking a cigarette.]
MM: So champs, big title defense tonight. Are you ready?
SS: Born ready, jerkweed. You ready to get a new fuckin' suit?
MM: This suit IS new!
SS: Right. New new? Or Goodwill new?
MM: Ummm. No comment.
SS: Heh. Look, faggot Monroe. Everything will be fine as long as Plants doesn't fall for The Great and Trable created tag-title defense dealie, and choke like he always does when he fights for titles.
SMP: I don't always choke! I won the STWF InterGalactic title. TWICE!
SS: And when was that again?1926?
SMP: Well, you NEVER won it. So there!
SS: So? I was on the verge of being World Champion in Metal Edge Wrestling.
SMP: pffft! Your point being... what exactly?
SS: Fuck. You got me there. But I won THIS.
[He slaps the OWTTM. Plants slumps noticeably.]
MM: Guys, can you two even coexist long enough to defend those titles for any amount of time? The Great came out of nowhere with one of the most impressive win streaks for a BOB rookie in recent memory. And then there's Pete Trable.
[Steve and SMP stare at Monroe.]
MM: Well, then there's Pete Trable.
[They continue to stare. Mike shifts uncomfortably.]
MM: Anyway, rumor has it they're poised for an upset. Internet blogs have been buzzing about Plants giving you a Nipple Cutter in your first defense against the capable duo of Death and Kurt Angel, Steve. Your tandem is a ticking time bomb. Nuclear midnight could strike at any moment!
SS: (looking at Plants) Yeah, about that Nipple Cutter, jerkweed. Don't do that shit again. Ya dig?
SMP: I did that to you? I can't even remember that we were wrestling Death and Kurt Angel.
SS: Funny, I don't either.
MM: Are you going to answer my question?
SMP: What question?
MM: Can you coexist?
[Steve and SMP stare at each other.]
MM: Okay, how about this one? There's also talk of you guys calling yourselves the umm... *ahem* "The Cock and Doc Connection". Your thoughts?
SMP: Maybe "Doc and Cock Connection".
SS: What? No fuckin' way. Cock and Doc!
SMP: DOC AND COCK!
SS: COCK IS FIRST, COCK, COCK, COCK!
[Insano Mano puts out his cigarette. He looks over and nervously stares. He quickly leaves.]
SMP: Without doctors, "cocks" wouldn't be delivered.
SS: Bitches can have baby boys without doctors, dumb ass. But without cocks, DOCTORS wouldn't be born.
SMP: There's artificial insemination!
[They begin shoving each other.]
SS: Listen, Plants. Just imagine that The Great and Trable are a couple of giant titties needing augmentation. You'll be sure to fuck 'em up and we'll keep the belts with no problem, OK?
SMP: That was low, Steve! Watch your back..."partner".
[The begin shoving each other again and walk off.]
MM: Well, I don't think we're any closer to thinking these two can get along. But it sure looks like they can't! Should be fun! Back to you, Scotty!
[As we return to the BOB Ballroom, "Come Out and Play" by the Offspring is playing, and Pigeon is sitting in a corner of the ring picking his nose. And then eating it. Ewww.]
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is the Handicap Flaming Glass Barbed Wire Table and Light Tubes Piranha Death Match!
NH: Introducing first, already in the ring, from the apartment above the Bowl-ery. This is Pigeon!
SW: Feeling better, Styles?
Styles: Yeah. Much. Dick. Alright. Fans, as you can see, we've got glass tables. We've got cans of gasoline. We've got a glass table wrapped in barbed wire. We've got light tubes. And we've even got a tank of piranha! Needless to say, this one is going to be—
Styles: Oh my GOD! That was EXTREEEEEME!
SW: (Several seconds of Scotty sucking air are heard) Extreme nut shot? Jesus is weeping in heaven at your actions, Styles. What about turning the other testicle?
["Do You Call My Name" by Ra hits, and the fans unleash boos like verbal daggers. Wow…I just impressed myself. I made a metaphor! Go me. It's my metaphorday…]
Styles: Scotty, don't ruin his day and tell him that's a simile.
SW: Whatever, nerd. Hey, I get it. You just made "Revenge Of The Nerds V: Nutshot." Good on you, Styles. You should be so proud. I'll get you again.
NH: And his opponents, hail from Sinister City, Utah. Being accompanied to the ring by BOB's vice president of something-or-other, Michelle! They weigh in at a total of 424 pounds and represent the Hierarchy. Axl and Viruz.
SW: Well, this is Axl's kind of a match. A three-way with no women involved.
Styles: Shooting fish in a barrel.
SW: They get deader that way. Oh, hi, Michelle.
Michelle: Somebody backstage thought he could stop me from commentating for my man, Axl? Trey, you moron. Did you forget that I'm a VP, too?
SW: Um, Michelle. I have a message from Trey. Though I'd rather not pass it on.
Michelle: Tell me. I won't get mad at you. I promise.
SW: Let me just cross my legs. OK. Trey says, 'Yeah, you're the VP of Being A Ball-Sniffing Repugnant Whorebag.'
Michelle: I can't wait until Death kills you.
Michelle: Not you, Trey.
SW: Wanna have make up sex?
Michelle: Is that Trey or you?
SW: Umm…depends. What's your answer if it's me…
Styles: All right. Please. Show Michelle some respect, will you?
Michelle: Thanks, Styles. You were always like a first father to me, ya know?
SW: First father? What about your real dad?
Michelle: My REAL dad should've spent less time bending spoons and more time bending elbows to get out his wallet for me to buy stuff. Like Axl does now.
SW: Ah, I see. He's your sugar daddy on a budget?
Michelle: Of course.
SW: Man, when Axl's screaming out who's your daddy, you probably don't even know how to answer.
Michelle: Hehehehe. (Whispering) Scotty, to be honest, I think Axl's only asking me who my daddy is so Axl can picture him naked.
SW: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Michelle: Are you OK, Scotty?
Styles: Scotty just tipped over in his chair, and is laughing uncontrollably. So, yeah, we also have a match or something going on. Scotty, any insights?
SW: hahahahahahahaha! Ahahahahahaha! I love you Michelle!
Styles: Right, then. Pigeon takes down Axl with an arm drag, but Viruz takes down Pigeon with an arm drag of his own. One! Two! No!
SW: Oh, I so would've killed somebody if this match ended after an arm drag. I want to see Axl bleed.
Michelle: Oh, Scotty, if only you were about 20 years younger and moderately attractive and had a bank account, I would so date you for at least six months or so.
SW: Really? Damn. Detached Narrator? Can you send me back in time again so I can switch places with 20-year-old me?
[Um, no. But I can do this. Viruz vanishes from the ring. What the HELL? Where am I? You're in my house now, Viruz. Do me a favor and narrate for a minute, will ya? OK, Detached Narrator…But I really should be helping out Axl. Nah, Axl will be fine for a couple minutes.]
Styles: Are you as confused as me?
[A second, younger version of Scotty Whatbody appears at the EZ Break Announce Desk.]
Younger Scotty Whatbody: Oh, hello there.
Scotty Whatbody: What the hell? Who is that supposed to be?
YSW: I'm you. But younger.
Michelle: Wow. Look at you. I still wouldn't do you. I was wrong.
[Bwahahaha! Ah, Scotty you just got PWNED!]
YSW: Hey, where's Green Mosheen? I like that guy a lot.
SW: Are you a faggier me or something? What the hell. STYLES!
Styles: I have no clue what's going on.
SW: OK, I've NEVER used three exclamation points.
YSW: Oh, Whatever. Wrestling. Federation. Check the archives. Folks, I hope you are recording this at home, because that move that Axl just pulled off may never be witnessed again.
SW: STOP THAT SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK MOTHERFUCKER? I would NEVER pull for Axl! Or pull on Axl.
YSW: Wow! Pigeon is really dishin' out a beatin' to Axl. Hey! Wait a minute! Does the winner get the belt? Or does the loser?
SW: There's no BELT! Axl makes worthless belts! Styles! Michelle! Argh!
Michelle: I think Scotty's gonna have a nervous breakdown.
YSW: I'm really impressed with Pigeon. He is actually showing some skill here.
SW: That…seems OK.
YSW: That's sickening to see. I can't believe one weak little slam had such an impact on Pigeon.
SW: No shit, younger me! Axl's a pussy!
Styles: Damn. Scotty's such a bad influence on himself.
YSW: You'd think they'd be in better shape for a pay-per-view extravaganza of this magnitude. Oh GOD NO!!!
YSW: I'm beginning to sound like *gasp* YOU!!!
YSW: No, Sellout Sammy Smith.
Styles: Pigeon's looking to finish off Axl with a Pigeon Drop through that barbed wire glass table now.
YSW: Why is he doing that? He's never used a finisher before.
Styles: What are you talking about?
[He's recycling. BOB is green! Like my mask.]
SW: Great. Can we show some more interesting footage on BOB then than your lame ass fag brother?
[Hey! Watch it, Scotty. I have the power to do some incredible things in here…no doubt. Er, possibly?]
SW: Fuck you, me!
YSW: I didn't think he had it in 'im to kick out like that.
SW: Why the hell are you…me…putting apostrophes on words? What the hell is that accent? Am I Jamaican?
[Jamaican me crazy! w00t!]
Styles: Fans, this is surreal.
Michelle: This is just like being on ecstasy when Axl's in the room. Just really, really confusing and disappointing.
YSW: C'mon Sammy. Its just a kick to the nutz. Its not like its the Sharpshooter or anything.
Styles: Younger you didn't know the difference between "its" and "it's"?
SW: *Incoherent grumbles*
YSW: I don't think Pigeon will get outta that one.
Michelle: I think Scotty's going to kill himself. I wonder what that does to the space-time continuum?
[What's this button do?]
Pigeon: Hey, look. It's Jeff Hardy and Bono making out in the front row!
Axl: What? Where!
Styles: PIGEON DROP INTO THE PIRANHA TANK! ONE! TWO! THREE! HEGOTTHEM!
[What the hell?]
YSW: Viruz, I'm afraid you hit the "Randomly End This Match" button. Oh well. Go Green Mosheen!
[Younger Scotty Whatbody vanishes, and Viruz reappears in the middle of the ring.]
Styles: DROP TOE HOLD ONTO THE BARBED WIRE GLASS TABLE! OH MY GOD!
SW: Bwahahaha! Viruz just put 18 million cracks in the barbed wire glass table. He's like Hillary Clinton. A big loser!
Michelle: Kurt! Help!
Styles: And right on cue, here comes Kurt Angel. He's behind Pigeon, who's flapping his arms in celebration. Kurt quickly douses the table with gasoline. Oh no!
Crowd: Heavenly shit! Heavenly shit! Heavenly shit!
Michelle: Awesome. Pigeon just got Heavenly Slammed through the flaming glass table. Worth every penny.
SW: Turns out, thanks to Kurt Angel, that Pigeon shattered that flaming barbed wire glass table once and for all.
Styles: Pigeon won the match tonight, but this war is far from over.
SW: As long as Axl keeps jobbing, it can go on forever as far as I'm concerned.
Caption: Totally Dead
Styles: Well, it looks like Trey's going to stop Jim from getting in the ring. He wants the title match he earned by beating Axl last month. Jim's in the ring, Trey's in the ring. Generic Ref is physically removing Jim from the ring now. What the?
Styles: Trey just grabbed Death! COMING DOWN! OH MY GOD! The fans can't believe it! What is this? He just put Some Guy on top of Death. Generic Ref's back in. No! No! No!
SW: We have a new champion? The fuck? Why would Trey turn on his third best friend in the whole world?
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner of the match. And NEW, Brawlers On a Budget ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS…
[Trey steals the mic from Heidi and heads into the ring.]
SW: This is unbelievable.
[Soem Guy in A Mask takes off his mask.]
SW: Yes! I'm not a homo! Hahaha! I knew I wasn't.
Styles: No. Nonononononono! Sarah?
TV: Sarah is Project 469, The Fall Of Man.
Styles: Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" was Soem Guy In A Mask?
[Death is creeping up on somebody.]
Death: Oh, hello there. You just caught me trying to horribly kill somebody of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. Trey, my old friend. It seems like you, me, and Sarah are inexorably tied together. Look it up, dumbass. So, it's no shock that it eventually came to this. BOB needed a money match. And you need all the money you can get since Michelle stole all your money.
[Several birds suddenly swarm Death and begin pecking at him.]
Death: Son of a! Get off me!
[Back to the ballroom.]
SW: That was odd.
Styles: Death was getting too serious.
SW: Ahh. The Serious Police strike again. Damn fascist pigs! Wait, are you sure it wasn't writer's block?
Styles: Yeah, that's more likely...
NH: The following contest is scheduled for one fall.
SW: It’s gonna be a squash of intergalactic proportions!
[‘This Is XXXtreme’ plays. XXXtreme Machine comes out carrying a gasoline can.]
SW: Now he’s trying to get over using Kevin’s old gimmick, God rest his wicked little soul.
Styles: I don’t think that’s the case here Scotty. I guess Heidi's having trouble with her microphone, so we won't get an intro for XXXtreme Machine?
SW: Does he DESERVE an intro? Seriously?
["She Blinded Me With Science" by Malcolm McLaren plays next. Angelina X accompanies "Stupendous" Stephen Hawking down the aisle to whistles.]
SW: I hope those whistles are for Angelina.
Styles: Who else would they be for?
SW: We have some sick fans, Styles. There's a big old man in a wheelchair fetish site I accidentally stumbled across in my porn surfing. Avoid grayhairandwheelchairs.com whatever you do! Blech.
XXXtreme Machine: u meva maik cenke do 9 hef 2 kordell u!
Styles: XXXtreme Machine tried to pop Hawking in the head with the microphone but Hawking sets his wheelchair to top speed and sends him flying.
SW: Who can even tell who is the more handicapped in this match?
Styles: Stephen Hawking drives towards XXXtreme Machine again and skids him into the turnbuckle.
SW: Oh baby! Angelina X is on the outside near me! I'd love to mark her X with a big spot. Woohoo!
Styles: She pulls XXXtreme Machine by the feet and drives his nuts into that steel turnbuckle! Good grief.
SW: She locks him in a reverse figure four around the turnbuckle! Even I felt like doing play by play on that one.
Styles: Meanwhile Hawking is crushing XXXtreme Machine’s head like a tomato can with his wheels. Angelina X points at something and tells Generic Ref to look.
SW: That’s never going to work.
Styles: Angelina X climbs into the ring as Generic Ref looks into the sky.
SW: Maybe he’s looking for Waldo.
Styles: Angelina X with a series of shinbreakers followed by an atomic drop. She exits the ring just when Generic Ref looks back at the action. Stephen Hawking drives back and forth over XXXtreme Machine’s exposed legs with the 328 pounds of his wheelchair!
XXXtreme Machine: ahwuch htat hrutz#! mai elgz,!
Angelina X: A pea brain like you needs to be taken out of the equation for good. GO ICONS~! I mean, GO STEPHEN!
SW: Oh, baby! A little bit of her cheerleader is peeking out. Now if only her boobies would peek out.
Styles: XXXtreme Machine crawls from under Hawking’s wheels and gets to that can of gasoline he brought with him. He pours the contents out all over the canvas.
SW: Woo baby, somebody get another chick for Angelina to oil wrestle with.
Styles: Stephen Hawking’s wheelchair slips and slides all over the ring. XXXtreme Machine laughs to himself.
XXXtreme Machine: ah hu he hs ja ya plagh!!
SW: That’s how he laughs?
Styles: XXXtreme Machine goes for a dropkick but misses by miles. Hawking loses control on the oil and topples over onto his side. The ref is making the count.
SW: I knew this match would be retarded.
Styles: XXXtreme Machine looks like he’s out cold.
SW: From missing a dropkick?!
Styles: Angelina is in and lifts Hawking’s wheelchair upright. She tries to wipe away as much of the oil as she can with a towel.
SW: I wish she’d used her body.
Styles: XXXtreme Machine is completely motionless. Stephen Hawking presses forward at the top level on his wheelchair and hops up onto the rope. Supermassive Black Hole! That’s his move! 1, 2, 3!
[Slam cut to Mike Monroe backstage.]
MM: Fans, MEGABRAWL II is coming! This year! Most likely! So don't delay, act now, supplies are running out! Allow, if you're still alive, six to eight years to arrive! You might as well be ordering MEGABRAWL II! The mega-ist brawl of the year! Back to the ring!
[Through the magic of editing, we're ready for our next match. "Human Flesh Wax" by Cenotaph hits. The crowd gives the zombie a pretty good pop.]
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, from Wellington, New Zealand, this is Zombie Mr. Fantastic.
Styles: Wellington? This is news to me.
SW: Yeah, that's where they ship all the zombified things to live, like rat monkeys and our old friend Billy Polar. You think smart brains taste better than dumb brains? Billy was from Harvard, you know.
Styles: I have no idea. Maybe someday Zombie Mr. Fantastic can tell you.
SW: Guess we won't use yours as the "smart" brain. You never know anything I ask you.
Styles: Zombie Mr. Fantastic is shuffling his way to the ring. Still.
SW: He makes G.I. Slow look like G.I. Medium-Pace. It's only like 20 feet to the ring! We don't have all night.
["Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong hits next. SMK gets a black hole-like reaction from the fans.]
NH: And his opponent. From Snap Finger, Georgia, he weighs in at 222 pounds. The Snapmare Kid!
Styles: SMK on his way out. And yes, he indeed will make it to the ring before Zombie Mr. Fantastic by a few feet. Oh, Zombie Mr. Fantastic lunged at SMK, but SMK avoided it. This one should be…something.
SW: How is Zombie even going to get into the ring? Say, Styles, why don't you go help him?
Styles: No thank you.
[Zombie Mr. Fantastic simply rolls under the bottom rope and stands up.]
SW: There's some gimmick commitment. Jeez.
ZMF: *Inhuman grunting*
Styles: And here we go! Collar-and-teeth lockup. Did I say teeth? I did! Oh my GOD!
*SQUIRT SQUIRT SQUIRT*
Styles: Look at the blood spray from Snapmare Kid's shoulder!
SW: Holy crap!
Styles: Oh man! Snapmare Kid is hurting. Oh no! His health bar is in red! Don't get bit again, Kid, or you're done for!
SW: Health bar?
Styles: SMK rolling out of the ring. He just spied some green herb on the floor. I think he's going to use it to heal himself.
SW: Green herb? Yeah, I'm sure he'll be feeling no pain after that.
Styles: Oh look! SMK just found some health spray as well. Looks like he'll save the green herb for later on if he needs it.
SW: I think I'm gonna be hanging out with SMK after tonight's show.
[Cut to Kurt Angel.]
KA: You aren't the only one, bucko! Wooo!
[Back to the ring.]
Styles: SMK has used up the health spray and his health meter is back to full. Now SMK's looking under the ring for a weapon to fight off Zombie Mr. Fantastic. What's he got, Scotty?
SW: A handgun? Oh, nice. It should only take about eight rounds to take out Zombie Mr. Fantastic if my hours of video-gaming have taught me anything.
Styles: Back inside. SMK's lining up the shot.
Styles: Oh no! No bullets!
SW: Well, it IS a toy gun.
SMK: It IS? Oh, crap!
Styles: Zombie Mr. Fantastic charges at SMK in slow-motion. SMK patting himself down. Oh, look! He's got a knife!
SW: No good, Styles. Those things are worthless. Too bad this isn't a Silent Hill 2 spoof. They let you get a chainsaw in that game pretty early on.
Styles: SMK is apparently a video game amateur. He doesn't know that he has to explore the entire room to try and find weapons that are no doubt laying around for no conceivable reason whenever zombies and monsters are afoot.
SW: Neat. A shotgun.
Styles: Don't aim that at me! I hope that's not loaded.
SW: Let me show you my Sarah Palin impersonation! You be the moose.
Styles: Stop it!
SMK: I'm sorry. I love you!
Styles: SMK looking for his finisher! Snapmare attempt on Zombie Mr. Fantastic, but SMK can't get him over!
*SQUIRT SQUIRT SQUIRT*
[Blood sprays in the air again.]
SW: This match BITES! Bwahahaha! Get it?
Styles: SMK desperately needs to get free of Zombie Mr. Fantastic's teeth.
SW: Or at least save his progress. I think I see an ink ribbon over there.
Styles: SMK banging on the mat in pain. Will he give up? Will he be eaten?
[The bell rings.]
Styles: The hell?
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner by submission, Zombie Mr. Fantastic!
SW: Did he just win via the hideous bicep bite?
Styles: A zombie star is born. But hold on! Zombie Mr. Fantastic won't let go of the, um, hold? Generic Ref hollering for Fantastic to let it go. Hold on. Now what?
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, referee Generic Ref has just ruled that due to the actions of Zombie Mr. Fantastic, he is reversing his decision and awarding this match to Snapmare Kid!
Styles: Uh oh! Zombie Mr. Fantastic just dropped the hold.
ZMF: *Inhuman grunting*
Styles: Wow. What a shocking turn of events here tonight. SMK wins. But dies in the process. What a way to go out.
SW: Flat on your face, bleeding to death?
Styles: Sure. Man, a lot of people are dying in BOB lately. You'd think we're heading to a series finale or something.
SW: Is BOB closing after MegaBrawl 2?
Styles: I, uh…
SW: Tell me now so I can start the party. Oh yeah!
[Zombie Mr. Fantastic steals SMK's green herb.]
SW: Damnit! Now I have to hang out with Mr. Fantastic tonight.
[Various clips of various BOB wrestlers.]
Deep voice: MEGABRAWL!
Announcer: The MEGAest Brawl of them all! December 15, live On-Demand!
Deep voice: MEGABRAWL!
Announcer: Don't miss it or you'll be MEGA upset! It'll be the MEGAest mistake of your MEGAlife! The Send Us MEGA Money event you've been waiting all year for!
Deep voice: MEGABRAWL!
Styles: Was that an ad for LAST YEAR'S MEGABRAWL?
SW: Yep. Nice job, boys.
Styles: Well, onto the next. It's time for the tag title match. Take it away, Heidi.
SW: And take off your top, too! Woohoo!
["(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction/X Gonna Give It To Ya" by Rolling Stones and DMX hits. Yes, it's a mashed up version of both songs so DMX basically yells "X gon give it to ya " after every time Mick Jagger says "I can't get no!" Dig it? Cool.]
NH: Introducing first, the challengers. From St. Louis, Missouri, at a combined weight of 500 pounds, XFactor Pete Trable and The Great, the Amazing Greats!
Styles: The Great and Trable defeated Axl and Viruz last month at Power Is Stolen to become the number one contenders. And you've gotta think they have a real shot at beating the champs, especially considering Plants and Studnuts hate each other.
SW: Yeah. Uh. What? Uh!
Styles: What are you doing?
SW: D-M-X! Uhhh! What! Uhhh!
Styles: Can somebody kill the music? Or his mic? Or me?
["Smooth Operator" by Sade hits.]
NH: And introducing the reigning champions. First, from Naples, Italy. He weighs in at 240 pounds and is one half of the Not Good Enough to Fight Alone Tag Team Champions, the Sinister Surgeon, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants!
Styles: It's the Breast Man for the Job, SMP. Studnuts and SMP's grudge stems from Nurse Heidi and an alleged tape called…what was it, Scotty?
SW: "Heidi's Anatomy." I haven't been able to find it ANYWHERE on the web. I don't know if it really exists or if Studnuts is just using it to screw with SMP's head.
["Dead Between the Walls" by Pelican hits next. The crowd cheers for the biggest heel in BOB, Steve Studnuts. We're in Sin City…they love heels here in case you haven't noticed.]
NH: He is the Grand Slam Champion. He weighs 262 pounds and is from Phoenix, Arizona. Steve Studnuts!
Styles: Steve Studnuts became the first man to hold every title at UnFOURgiven, winning both Not Good Enough to Fight Alone tag titles, the Swiss Army Belt, and the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. And, two of the men he beat in that match are in this match tonight.
SW: Yeah. Our roster's pretty thin. And getting thinner all the time.
Styles: Are you saying The Great doesn't deserve this title shot?
SW: No. The Great's fine. I meant we're short on main eventers. Just pretend BOB 2008 is WWF 1998. Four guys keeping the promotion afloat.
Styles: Well, Studnuts is no doubt enjoying having all the gold. OK. The Great and SMP ready to kick this one off for the Not Good Enough to Fight Alone Tag Team Titles. SMP, a BOB legend and parody legend, while The Great is no doubt a future star of this business.
SW: As long as his contract demands don't get out of hand.
Styles: Right. Lock up in the middle. The Great winning and gets SMP backed up into the corner. Clean break by The Great here as he shows some respect to The Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer In Wrestling.
SW: Yeah, booo! Clean breaks? Respect? What a pussy!
Styles: Here we go again. Snapmare and neck lock 2 by The Great.
SW: 2? There's another version of that move?
Styles: Are you questioning the makers of "Smackdown vs. Raw"?
SW: Oh, well, then. They make such a great game, I'm sure there must be. He must have been studying the moves of The Rock then. There's a Samoan drop.
Styles: Samoan drop 1, Scotty.
SW: Sorry, Styles. I actually have a life. I don't spend my time memorizing the moves of video game characters. You'll probably jizz yourself when you get your hands on "TNA Impact."
Styles: I will not! I just care about my job.
SW: Sure, Styles. You care about this job, I buy THAT one. *Pffffft*
Styles: Headlock 2 applied by The Great on SMP now.
SW: If I wanted to see video game offense, I'd be playing a video game now. I really need to get a PSP to give me something to do during restholds.
Styles: SMP up and there's a hip toss. SMP with a chop to Studnuts! Oh boy.
SW: Was that a tag?
Styles: It looks like it, SMP's already out of the ring. And look at the look on Steve Studnuts' face.
SW: Heidi's begging Steve to not do anything.
Styles: Meanwhile, Trable has tagged in and he brings in the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS in the hard way.
SW: Well, he was just looking at Heidi, what do you expect?
Styles: Trable runs into an elbow. Big boot takes Trable down. Studnuts looking to inflict some damage on BOB's resident wigger, but Trable with a nice leg sweep catches Studnuts off guard. Tag in to The Great. Studnuts whipped to the corner. The Great has Trable and whips him toward Studnuts.
SW: Insane In The Ho-Train!
Styles: Nice combo there by The Amazing Greats. Great charges! Turnbuckle clothesline! Trable charges! Clothesline! Studnuts is woozy.
SW: And Heidi's a floozy!
Styles: Russian leg sweep 2 by The Great! One! Two! Kickout by the CHAMP. Studnuts fighting back. He picks up The Great. Oh man! He just used The Great's head like a battering ram and nailed Trable in the face. Powerslam by Studnuts. Cover! One! Two! And, no! The Great kicks out.
Styles: And Trable is pissed. He wants at Studnuts.
SW: But Generic Ref keeping Trable out of the way with his superhuman referee strength that only emerges when the good guys enter the ring illegally. What a worthless super power of any you could get.
Styles: Studnuts with a face wash on his partner, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, which I guess is a tag. This one is libel to explode at any minute, fans. SMP with a drop toe hold on The Great. Studnuts off the rope with a legdrop to the back of the Great's head. Cover by SMP. One. Two. And no!
SW: Not bad teamwork, considering both guys probably want to tear each other apart right now. And it's all Heidi's fault.
Styles: SMP slams The Great. Another cover. One, two, and no. Studnuts grabs his partner by the hair. And he just slapped himself in. Studnuts has the Great on the middle rope and is blatantly choking him.
SW: Hey! Let go of him!
Styles: SMP now has Studs and drags him toward their corner. SMP chops himself into this match. SMP with a clothesline for The Great. One. Two! And no! The Great with a chinbreaker. Spinning neckbreaker.
SW: Damnit. Why does SMP have to botch EVERYTHING in his life. He's such a weak link. Studnuts must not care at all about those tag titles, putting SMP on his team.
Styles: Here comes the XFactor. Manhattan drop for SMP. The Great with a The Great angry stomp. And Trable makes the cover. One! Two! No!
SW: I'm pretty sure Trable banged Heidi at some point, too. Probably even The Great did.
Styles: He's married!
SW: So? Married guys are some of the greatest cheaters in the world.
Styles: Trable has SMP up. Uh…modified suplex, I think? One! Two! No! Trable off the ropes. BIG elbow drop connects. Off the ropes again. Fist drop connects! And once more off the ropes. Knee drop! And off the ropes again. Butt drop!
SW: How many more body parts can he drop? Is this cock drop next?
Styles: Leg drop. Trable droppin' some knowledge on SMP. Cover! One! Two! SMP kicks out.
SW: I heard SMP took some Levitra before this match because he heard it'll make him last longer. What a dumbass.
Styles: Heidi might appreciate it later.
SW: Yeah, right. Like he has a chance with her. Look at Studnuts. Then look at Plants. It's like day and nighttime in the South Pole in the dead of winter.
Styles: The Great back in. Double axe handle 3 from the top rope. One! Two! No!
SW: Hit a finisher if you want a pin! This is an On-Demand, not a clusterfuck elimination match. Morons. All of 'em.
Styles: And there's leg lock 10. The Great now looking for a submission. Or not. Great gets up and just Great stomped SMP. Trable tags in. From the second rope now. Knee drop connects!
SW: Was there a sale on wrestling drop moves this week?
Styles: Oh boy. You're not gonna like this one, Scotty.
SW: Samoan fucking drop?
Styles: It'll be over soon, I promise.
SW: It better be. Jerri vs. Sarah's coming up soon. Oh baby! It's gonna be like a prison porn movie right in front of us.
Styles: Great's back in. Double clothesline attempt misses. SMP tosses The Great over the top rope! Look out for Studnuts! Clothesline from the apron takes down The Great on the floor. Incoming! Trable with a PLANCHA on Studnuts! Great's back in now. Great and SMP over the top rope to the floor.
SW: Trable just launched himself off the Flimsy Guardrail® onto Studs. That was impressive.
Styles: What, the move?
SW: No! The guardrail didn't break! That thing is cheap, Styles.
Styles: Great and Trable grab SMP now. OH MY GOD! Hip toss into the crowd!
SW: Such a shame that there are some many empty chairs at BOB events. Maybe if he fell on a person that wouldn't have hurt as much. Wait, maybe that's his master plan. Get injured so Heidi has to take care of him. SMP wants one of Heidi's famous sponge baths. Though I'm sure he'd rather have a tongue bath from her.
Styles: Oh no! Studnuts has Trable now. POWERBOMB on the floor! Oh my GOD! Now Studnuts is dragging SMP back toward the ring. He just gorilla press slammed SMP through the ropes. Now what.
SW: Bwahahaha! Steve needed a tag! Brilliant!
Styles: This is insanity. Do you seriously think Studnuts is worried about what's LEGAL?
SW: Of course! Studnuts is a role model to all young, impressionable kids who need to learn inventive new ways to say "fuck."
Styles: Studnuts has The Great up now. Another powerbomb! One! Two! No! I think Studnuts is about to end this one once and for all. Death Valley of The Sun Driver coming up! Trable's up! How? He just saved The Great. SMP grabs Trable and tosses him out. Now SMP and Trable are brawling on the floor.
SW: Twist of Great! Oh no!
Styles: But The Great is NOT in great shape and can't make the cover. Here we go! One! Two! SMP saved Studnuts!
SW: I never thought I'd hear you say that tonight, Styles. I figured I'd hear you say SMP just choked again or, SMP just cost his team the titles, or, wow, SMP is SUCH a fucking loser, OH MY GOD!
Styles: Please. SMP decks The Great. Studnuts is back up. Studnuts looking down at The Great.
SW: I think we're about to see it.
Styles: See what?
Studnuts: (looking down at Thrilla’s face, starts waving his own hand in front of his own face) YOU CAN’T BE ME! But I know you wish you could be…
[Steve runs across the ring, bounces off the ropes, stops briefly over The Great, simulates masturbating for a second, then drops a fist to The Great's forehead. HUGE pop for that one.]
SW: YES! THE FUCK KNUCKLE SHUFFLE!
Styles: He hasn't used that in years.
SW: The writers here are terrible.
Styles: Studnuts makes the cover. One!
[SMP stares at Trable as he gets back in the ring. SMP doesn't make a move to stop Trable.]
Styles: Two! Trable breaks it up.
SW: SMP just let him! What was that?
SMP: Kick him again!
Styles: Trable does.
Styles: Trable does it.
SW: That ain't cool! Stop that!
SMP: Terminate him!
PT: Yo, foo', I ain't cyborg Pete!
SMP: Too bad. This is gonna hurt a LOT then.
Styles: Double D spinebuster! Cover! One! Two! The Great breaks it up!
SW: Double D? Oh, I get it. Double A. Arn Anderson. Aren't you clever.
Styles: Studnuts heading up top.
SW: Oh, I know this one! Mydickwaysaton bomb!
Styles: WHAT?! Studs covers The Great! One! Two! The Great kicks out! Unbelievable! The Great will not be denied the tag team championship tonight.
SW: His wife will KILL him if he comes home empty-handed and without the championship bonus. And no doubt his son will mock him for weeks about it.
Styles: Who's legal?
SW: Hopefully that chick in the third row. Oh baby!
Styles: Studs putting The Great up on his shoulders now. What is this? He's telling Plants to get up top. Are we about to say a Boobsday Device? Oh no! They're trying to hit a Nipple Cutter from the top! That could paralyze The Great if this connects! No! Great fighting SMP off. SMP hip tossed all the way to the mat! VICTORY ROLL BY THE GREAT! COVER! ONE! TWO! THREENO! Studnuts somehow kicked out. Wow. What a match we're seeing here fans.
SW: Yeah, and Pete's not wrecking it by getting involved.
Styles: Generic Ref checking on The Great, who's having trouble getting up. The Great's gotta be running on empty at this point. Hey, I think Studnuts just pulled something out of his tights!
SW: Put the kids to bed.
Styles: No, a weapon. He's got brass knuckles! Oh no! Studs winding up! SMP just stopped him from hitting the Great with those knux. Studs winds up to hit SMP! Plants ducks. Trable goes down. Oh my GOD!
SW: Oh man! He just tossed them to Heidi. She just hid the knux in her cleavage. Oh, I wish I were those knux.
Styles: Studnuts rolls The Great out to the floor. SMP's leaving? No he's not. He's going after Heidi? What the?
[The crowd erupts as Plants wrestles with Heidi's shirt.]
SW: Whoa! There's a sexual harassment suit! He's in her shirt! Take it off, Sil! Woohoo!
Styles: Death Valley of the Sun Driver on Trable! Plants is back in. He grabs Studnuts. Oh MAN! He just hit Studnuts with those brass knuckles! Studnuts falls back onto Trable! Cover? One! Two! Three! Damnit!
SW: Sil, let me sniff those knux. Please?
Styles: Well fans, Steve Studnuts and Dr. Silaconne M. Plants have retained the Not Good Enough To Fight Alone Tag Team Titles. The Great and Pete Trable were screwed by Steve Studnuts and those brass knuckles. Studnuts is out. And the Cock & Doc Connection will continue on as champions. But how can these two continue to breathe the same air without killing each other after this?
SW: Maybe we'll find out on iMPLOSION!
Styles: Alright, let's send it backstage to Mike Monroe who's with Kobe Gyant. Take it, Mike.
[Cut to a wall.]
Styles: Or not.
SW: How do we even screw up a pre-taped segment on a pre-taped show? We haven't had this many fuck-ups in a long time. Did TNA buy us or something?
Styles: Hmm. Well. Fans, don't forget. Our next BOB-On-Demand event will be October Surprise. So make sure to order it.
Styles: Looks like we're ready? OK. Mike. Take it away!
[Cut to a wall.]
Styles: Forget it. Let's go to the next match.
["Hit Me Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears is playing as we return to the Ballroom.]
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a grudge match! Introducing first, already in the ring. From Steel City. It weighs in around 11 pounds. Steel Chair!
SW: Steel Chair got the jobber intro. Guess we know who's winning this one.
["Me So Horny" by 2 Live Crew hits next. Kobe Gyant gets a decent pop as he steps out.]
NH: And its opponent. From Los Santos, he weighs in at 280 pounds, Kobe Gyant!
SW: Look at the hands on Kobe. They're like giant boobies!
SW: And look at his head? He must wear a size 50! And those feet. Those are like a size 70! He's a giant, Styles!
Styles: I think you need to work on your similes, Scotty.
SW: Jim Ross get away with "he has hands like catcher's mitts" and "legs that belong in the rainforest" crap all time. Tell me how! Tell me!
Styles: Maybe you need the accent.
SW: Where's The Commentator? He could pull this crap off.
Styles: He hasn't worked here in years, Scotty. Kobe is looking focused here.
Kobe Gyant: I sure am. I'm everywhere. I'm so omniscient that if there were two omniscients, I would be both, you know.
Styles: Kobe? You're here again?
KG: No offense, Styles, but when you're as good as I am, there's only one man who has the cred to call my matches. And that's me, you know…
Styles: And Kobe just attacked Steel Chair before the bell! Kobe is brutalizing Steel Chair in the corner! Damn! Kobe just shoved Generic Ref!
SW: Kobe, you better be careful, you don't wanna get DQ'd here.
KG: Generic Ref needs a good shove. Besides, look how erect his nipples are.
Styles: Oh my GOD!
KG: I vomited two times earlier today. I bronzed mine and auctioned it off for $3,000. And my vomit was way bigger than that. You call that puke? That's like mini-puke. A puke-in-training.
SW: Don't ever talk about Generic Ref's nipples again.
Styles: Kobe, the one IN the ring, not here with us, just tossed Steel Chair to the floor. African-American whip, NO! Oh, Steel Chair just reversed and Kobe smashed into the Flimsy Guardrail®.
KG: Steel Chair is stronger than it looks, you know. Besides, my shoelace looks a little loose. And the Flunky really should've wiped the floor, I couldn't get any good footing.
Styles: The floor is a rug.
KG: That rug is slippery. It's more slippery than Heidi's meat wallet.
SW: BWAHAHAHA! Meat wallet!
Styles: Kobe and Steel Chair are back inside the ring now. Kobe trying to block it, but OH, Steel Chair with a vicious double stomp!
SW: Kobe! You just basically impaled yourself with that chair!
KG: That chair has superchairman strength. It's crazy, yo.
Styles: And now Steel Chair with a steel leg to Kobe's nose.
SW: You're selling for a chair? Yet you didn't sell anything for Blackman White last month?
KG: Steel Chair is far more talented than Blackman White.
Styles: Steel Chair waiting for Kobe to get up. Kobe charges, but what a reversal by Steel Chair! Spear! Kobe, you're in some trouble here.
KG: Nah. It's all in the psychology. I got a Ph.D. in psychology when I was 4, Styles. From Yale. And then I got a second Ph.D in psychology when I was 5 from Princeton. I'm just messing with Steel Chair here, you know…using my 248 IQ to outwit my opponent.
SW: Your opponent doesn't HAVE a mind to mess with.
Styles: Steel Chair now "dragging" Kobe to the corner for some sort of move. Uh oh. Kobe with a knee lift. Kobe's got Steel Chair set up on top now. SUPERPLEX! Now what?
KG: All-Star Shooting Press coming up! When's the last time you saw a 7-4 man pull off this move, huh, boys?
SW: I think even after I see you do it, I still won't have seen it. There's no way you're 7-4. Your bio says you're 7-3!
KG: I just grew an inch. Growth spurt. I'll probably be 8 foot before I'm done growing.
Styles: All-Star Shooting Press connects! One! Two! Kobe just pulled Steel Chair up?
KG: Oh yeah. Steel Chair ain't had enough punishment yet. Nobody busts open Kobe Gyant and gets away with it.
Styles: Kobe's got Steel Chair set up in the corner now. What in the world? Oh my GOD! Handspring corner splash!
KG: My bio said I was amazing. 7-5, pulling off these moves? Give it up! And yes, Scotty, I just grew another inch. In my pants!
Styles: Kobe drags up Steel Chair. Kobe off the ropes. Lariat! Kobe off the ropes, but Steel Chair rolled out of the way!
SW: Kobe kicked Steel Chair out of the way as he was landing. Come on! There's no way we're treating Steel Chair like it's an actual wrestler. Didn't we get enough of this with the old hardcore title belt and that stupid Japanese belt?
KG: Apples and oranges, Scotty. Those title belts didn't have game. Steel Chair got game.
SW: Steel Chair ain't got shit, Kobe.
KG: I saw it on the toilet earlier today. That dookie was rank, yo.
Styles: Steel Chair has Kobe, um, hooked for something, but Kobe reverses with a backdrop.
[Generic Ref catches Steel Chair for a second, then throws it right at Kobe's head.]
Styles: OH MY GOD! What innovative offense by Steel Chair? Did you see it use Generic Ref as a springboard to hit that dropkick?
SW: I seriously need a break right now…
KG: I'm a Republican, son. I don't know the meaning of the word quit.
SW: Or pull out.
SW: Or condom.
KG: Damn straight. I don't know the meaning of so many words it would make your head spin. Charity says hello, by the way.
SW: Charity? My favorite stripper? What happened to her?
KG: I made her MY favorite stripper. And pregnant.
SW: Why did she have to stop stripping? Pregnant strippers are hot!
KG: Heh, the baby would be grabbing on the pole wit it's tiny little hand, trying to make her stop spinning around!
Styles: Kobe's got Steel Chair hooked now. It looks like you're lining up for a free throw here. And yes, Kobe tosses Steel Chair like a basketball perfectly onto the top turnbuckle, and Steel Chair crashes to the mat.
KG: Slam Dunk time! Put this jobber out of its misery already.
SW: What's happening, Kobe? Kobe? Kobe? Where are you? Smile or open your eyes so I can see where you are.
Styles: I think he left, Scotty. And racist, much?
SW: What'd I say?
Styles: He's not a cartoon character! His teeth and eyes don't light up just because…forget it. Why do I bother?
[Lights on. Steel Chair is on top of a bloody Kobe Gyant.]
Styles: Kobe just got screwed worse than one of the numerous white women he's impregnated! One. Two and NO! Kobe kicked out! Unbelievable!
Styles: What the hell is going on in the ring?
SW: I don't know. But I'm pretty sure Kobe's gonna have the greatest, most painful concussion in the history of concussions.
Styles: Once again, Steel Chair's got the cover! One! Two! NO! Kobe got the shoulder up somehow once again!
Styles: Damnit! Who keeps doing that?
SW: Maybe it's that dude from "Airplane!"
Styles: No, he's dead.
SW: He is? Aww, man. Way to bring down the show, Styles.
[Lights on. Three additional chairs are in the ring now. One is in the hands of a blonde woman who is now in the ring.]
Styles: And that's a DQ.
SW: What in the hell is this?
[The woman picks up the various chairs and begins hitting Kobe with them.]
SW: A white woman pissed at Kobe? She must be pregnant with his kid.
Styles: That's pretty likely. Kobe Gyant's gonna win this one by DQ. But what is the deal with this woman.
SW: Mike Monroe's going in for an interview? Bwahahaha. Hit Mike!
Mike Monroe: Excuse me, ma'am. What is the meaning of this? Who are you?
Woman: Who am I? My name is Va-Jay-Jay Dillon! And may I introduce to you, the most elite group in parody wrestling today! Steel Chair! Red Chair! Black Chair! And Beige Chair. The 4 Steelchairs! Tell 'em, Steel!
[Mike holds the microphone up, er, down to Steel Chair.]
Steel Chair: …
SW: That's the best promo of its career. And 20 times better than Axl's best promo.
MM: And what do you have to say for yourself, Red Chair?
Red Chair: …
MM: Menacing. Gentlechairs, we're out of time. Styles, Scotty, it looks like there's a new stable gunning for Kobe Gyant, masterminded by Va-Jay-Jay Dillon here. And whether we like it, or we don't like it, we better learn to tolerate it. Styles, Scotty, back to you.
Mike Monroe: Sarah, in just a few seconds, you'll step into the ring with Jerri Li. Your thoughts.
SW: I have a thought. How the FUCK did Mike just get back there?
Sarah: Well…us hot ladies of wrestling need certain things. Pretty things. Jerri has shiny things stapled to her face. I want something shiny around my waist, since apparently I'll never get anything shiny on my finger. *Pouts* That's why I'm going to win the T&A XX Division Title tonight, mike my words.
MM: I think you mean mark, don't you?
Sarah: Is your name Mark?
MM: No, it's Mike?
Sarah: Ugh! Jerri needs to get beaten up to get over with the crowd. After all, she's Japanese or Korean or something. And we totally kicked their in World War II. Well, Jerri. You weren't alive for World War II, but after tonight, you'll wish you were.
Sarah: Then she wouldn't have to worry about me. She could just worry about Hitler, communism, and atomic bombs. You know, girly '40s things.
[Sarah punches Mike in the nose.]
MM: What the hell was that for?
Sarah: I'm a heel. *Teehee*
[Sarah walks away.]
[“Metalstorm/Face The Slayer” by Slayer hits. Crowd cheers.]
NH: Ladies and gentlemen the following contest is the Jell-O In A Cell-O match and is for the T&A XX Division Championship!
[Crowd really cheers at the mention of the stipulation. Sarah walks out, punching and kicking the air to psych herself up.]
NH: Introducing first the challenger. From Cloudydale, Connecticut. Weighing in at 100 lbs… Sarah The Jobber Slayer!
Styles: Sarah is pumped up for this match, jumping up and down on the spot as that roofed cage is lowered down around the ring.
SW: Bouncy bouncy.
Styles: She walks in through the door and inspects that pool of bright red jell-o, probably making a plan of attack before this extremely unusual match begins.
[“Holy Wars” by Megadeth plays as the champion walks out with the belt over her shoulder. A few fans throw garbage but she seems to like it.]
NH: And her opponent. From Intercourse, Pennsylvania. Weighing in at 123 lbs. She is the reigning T&A XX Division Champion… Jerri Li!
Styles: Jerri Li has huge bags under her eyes and a snarl on her lips as she walks down towards the ring. She walks in through the door, giving Sarah the evil eye as she hands the belt over to Generic Ref. The door closes and the bell rings, this match is underway.
SW: Sarah and Jerri rolling around in all that jell-o, I’m worried I’ll start screeching like Mark Shill.
Styles: Just try not to wet your pants. Sarah holds her hands out looking for a test of strength but Jerri just headbutts her down to the mat. Sarah scrambles back to her feet and pushes Jerri backwards in anger.
Fans: We want Jell-O! *clap clap clap clap clap* We want Jell-O! *clap clap clap clap clap*
Styles: Jerri is looking around her, soaking up the atmosphere. There’s an electricity in the air, you can almost feel it. Jerri with a leg takedown on Sarah right into the pool of jell-o!
SW: OH MY GYAD!
Styles: Sarah powers Jerri over and rams the back of her head into the jell-o repeatedly.
SW: I’ve died and gone to heaven.
Styles: Sarah with rights and lefts, but Jerri is smiling. She motions her hands as if asking for more. Sarah with a biiig right hand right on the button. She could’ve broken her nose! Jerri with another headbutt before using her foot to flip Sarah up and over her shoulders and onto her back. Jerri rolls backwards on top of Sarah and lays in a barrage of vicious headbutts. These two are on fire.
SW: You can say that again.
Styles: Sarah takes a handful of jell-o and smears it across Jerri’s face.
SW: Sweet Jesus.
Styles: Sarah with a rake to the eyes before shuffling out of the jell-o pool. Jerri wipes the gelatinous goo off her face before following back onto the canvas. Both women are covered from head to toe in strawberry flavored gelatin dessert.
SW: I… I… uh…
Styles: As Scotty’s head explodes Sarah irish whips Jerri hard into the cage’s steel wall. She charges after her and goes for a mafia kick, but slips and falls on her butt. Jerri laughs before falling herself.
SW: This is the greatest match in BOB history, jell-o is getting EVERYWHERE! I love it.
Styles: Sarah crawls towards Jerri and rubs her face over the cage’s steel mesh. She digs her fingers into the cage wall and pulls herself to her feet. She drags Jerri up by the hair and slams her head repeatedly into the steel before hitting a slippery German suplex. She crawls on her hands and knees to make the cover. 1, 2, Jerri gets the shoulder up.
SW: I’ve never been so jealous of Generic Ref in my whole life.
Styles: Sarah goes for a jujigatame but realizes that submission moves are useless in this match. Sarah drops her heel down hard but Jerri slides out of the way in time and gets a prawn hold. 1, Sarah kicks out aggressively and backward rolls onto her feet. Dropkick drives the champ’s head into the cage.
SW: Sarah is dominating in this match so far, she’s obviously more at home covered in sticky pudding. I love her for that.
Styles: Sarah props the champ up in the corner and hits a kick to the ribs. And another. A high kick. Another high kick. Jerri falls like a ragdoll and Sarah starts stomping a mudhole. She lifts her up by the waist and saunters towards the middle of the ring, STO into the gelatin! Left, right, left, right. Sarah lifts Jerri up and hits a sambo suplex. 1, 2, Jerri kicks out! Sarah opens Jerri’s mouth and throws a big handful of jell-o into it. She forces it back closed and slaps her until the jell-o spurts out of her cheeks and through her lips.
SW: There’s jell-o all over the ring, up the cage, not even Generic Ref has been able to shield himself… although I kinda wish he had.
Styles: Jerri claws her razor sharp fingernails down Sarah’s face and kicks her off. She stands in the pool, absolutely drenched, and tries to wipe as much off herself as she can.
SW: She looks like a sexy version of the Toxic Avenger.
Styles: Sarah out of nowhere with a front dropkick. She kips up and attempts an axe kick but Jerri dodges. Soccer kick hits nothing but air as Jerri scurries back to a standing position, high kick connects but Jerri holds her ground. She motions for more.
Sarah: You want more?
Styles: Pump kick to the face sandwiches the champ against the cage. Jump spinkick sends her sliding along the floor.
[The lights suddenly become blood red. "All Out Of Love" by Air Supply hits. Slowly, a figure begins walking down the aisle.]
Styles: That's…that's gotta be Jeffrey the Jew! That's GOTTA BE Jeffrey The Jew!
SW: Yeah, so?
[Jeffrey walks down the aisle, clumsily grabs the cage door, and tries to rip it off. No luck. Tries again. Nope. So, instead, he asks Generic Ref for the key. Generic Ref unlocks it.]
SW: He looks like he’s been through a box of wine already.
[Jeffrey gets in the jell-o with Jerri and Sarah. Sarah stares at Jeffrey in disbelief.]
Sarah: (Confused) Who are you?
[Jeffrey grabs Sarah.]
Styles: Oh no! He's gonna tombstone her! Or…not.
[Jeffrey puts Sarah down gently, puts his hands over his crotch, and runs backstage, trying to hide an erection from the crowd!]
Styles: The fans are throwing chairs at BOB’s newest Jewish wrestler.
SW: BWAHAHAHAHA! Oh man! What a loser. He gets an erection and runs AWAY from a girl? Who taught this guy how to be a man?
Styles: Not the first impression I'm sure he wanted to make…
SW: All I can do is laugh.
Styles: Jerri drags herself by her fingernails along the mat, painted bright red by jell-o.
SW: It’s getting everywhere!
Styles: Jerri has reached the door before Sarah could get to her.
SW: Those designer snakeskin boots are a bad choice for this match.
Styles: She probably didn’t want to sacrifice her style. Generic Ref helps Jerri to open the cage door and she slides onto the floor outside. She steals a fans Trey Vincent sign and wipes as much jell-o off her as she can.
SW: That’s cheating!
Styles: Sarah holds her arms out she slides like she were ice skating across the jell-o soaked mat. Jerri with a chairshot! Sarah falls hard onto the floor outside the cage.
SW: The jell-o!
Styles: Jerri takes off her leather belt and wraps it around Sarah’s neck until she turns purple. Jerri is climbing up the cage with Sarah hanging in that leather belt! Somebody should call emergency!
[Sarah pulls herself out and falls to the floor below.]
Styles: And Sarah breaks free! Thank God. Jerri is calling for a chair from the fans.
SW: They’ve got no sympathy for Sarah.
Styles: One of the fans throws Jerri a chair and she catches it. Sarah shakes her off the cage in time! She takes the chair off Jerri and rams it edgeways into the side of Jerri’s head. Chairshot to the back of the spine! She drops the chair onto Jerri’s head and takes a step back. Soccer kick connects hard.
Sarah: Ow my toe!
Styles: Sarah takes Jerri by the hands and drags her all the way to our announce table. Oh my God!
SW: There’s jell-o on my script!
Sarah: Hey Styles, did Jerri leave any weapons around ringside?
Styles: She left that huge box over there, I guess that’s it.
[Sarah opens the box and looks through it. A few moments later she removes a sword and a beartrap.]
Styles: Oh my… God!
Sarah: If this is what it takes.
Styles: Sarah sets up the beartrap on our table!
SW: What the hell?! I’m outta here!
Styles: Oh my God she’s pulling Jerri up onto our table. Sarahconrana onto the beartrap and through the table!
SW: No! Not my chair!
Styles: Sarah pries the beartrap from Jerri’s head with the edge of Scotty’s steel chair before hitting her in the back of the head with it.
[The fans go crazy over the hardcore action.]
Styles: Sarah is climbing the steel cage! Jerri isn’t moving.
[Sarah reaches the top of the cage and pulls a microphone out of her pocket.]
Sarah: There it is, I’ve destroyed Jerri Li once and for all. Generic Ref, do the arm count thing.
SW: He looks like he’s about to piss himself.
Styles: Generic Ref gingerly makes his way to the car wreck of our EZ Break announce table. He holds Jerri’s arm in the air and lets it drop… it just flops to the floor.
SW: But she’s barely even covered in jell-o anymore!
Styles: He lifts the arm up again and it falls for a second time.
Sarah: She is out cold.
Styles: Generic Ref lifts the arm up for a third time and lets it just drop to the floor… but Jerri clutches at the air in the nick of time.
Jerri: Give me the mic.
Styles: Generic Ref confusedly hands Jerri a microphone.
Jerri: Set up a ladder ref!
Styles: Jerri is pointing to the flimsy guardrail. The Ref follows her direction and finds something behind the guardrail. He lifts up a ladder and sets it up next to the cage as Jerri stands.
[Jerri cracks her neck, covered in bruises, bumps, cuts and gashes.]
Jerri: There’s some weapons Styles didn’t know about.
Styles: Jerri hops the guardrail… there’s a sound of a revving motor.
SW: Holy shit!
Styles: Jerri has a lawnmower! She heaves the lawnmower’s weight up the ladder and throws it onto the roof of the cage. Sarah dodges out of the way with a surprised look on her face. Jerri jumps from the ladder and grapples the edge of the cage before pulling herself up.
[A timer with digital numbers shows a timer coming down to it’s last seconds.]
SW: Oh… my… God… I forgot.
Styles: What does that mean?
[The fans count down with the timer. There is a buzzer as it reaches 0. A hatchway in the ceiling opens up and a waterfall of bright green lime flavored jell-o pours down.]
Styles: Ohy my God! Jerri has the lawnmower!
[Jerri takes a swing at Sarah.]
Styles: Sarah with surprisingly good reactions whilst covered thickly with that green jell-o! A perfectly timed foot launch takeover sends Jerri flying overhead and her lawnmower crashing down to the floor.
SW: There is a God… the 11th commandment is there shall be jell-o.
Styles: Pope John Paul II must be spinning in his grave. Sarah with a monkey flip dangerously close to the cage’s edge. Jerri kips up still holding Sarah’s hands and turns it around into collar and elbow tie up. Jerri struggles against Sarah’s strength and kicks at her legs… but Sarah counters with northern lights suplex. Generic makes the count on the floor. 1, 2, Jerri kicks out!
SW: The jell-o is flowing down the sides of the cage!
Styles: Sarah hops backwards and sets in a head and arm hold Generic Ref is gonna have to climb the cage to see if Jerri taps.
SW: Give me your chair Styles, you told Sarah about the weapons.
Styles: You son of a bitch, give that back! Jerri kicks her legs out and rolls Sarah over onto her front. She lifts her up to her feet and goes for a backdrop suplex but Sarah knocks her back with elbows. Sarah goes for a Texas Cloverleaf but Jerri boots her in the face. Jerri uses a drop toe hold and Sarah falls facefirst!
SW: Come on, where’s the lemon jell-o?
Styles: Jerri pulls Sarah up in a chickenwing facelock before suplexing her right onto the roof of the cage! The mesh grating looked to wobble there. Jerri makes the cover. 1, 2, 3Sarah kicks out!!!
SW: And they still look cute covered in jell-o.
Styles: Jerri looks pleased with herself as she raises her fists above her head. The fans scream as she drags Sarah’s lifeless body to the edge of the cage.
SW: No way!
Styles: Jerri lifts Sarah up for a powerbomb but Sarah rolls forward and pins Jerri with a reverse victory roll. 1, 2, Jerri kicks out and gets to her feet just as quickly as Sarah. Clothesline aimed at Sarah misses! Sarah locks Jerri in a full nelson and shuffles her feet into poisiton. Dragon Suplex sends JERRI CRASHING THROUGH THE CAGE ROOF! SHE FALLS ALL THE WAY TO THE MAT! OH MY GYAAAD!!!
Fans: Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit!
SW: I’ve got pins and needles!
Styles: Sarah raises her arms in the air before DIVING THROUGH THE CAGE ROOF WITH AN ELBOW DROP!
[Sarah bounces off the mat on impact.]
SW: The second timer is counting down!
Styles: Not again!
SW: IT’S ORANGE JELL-O!
Styles: Oh my God!
[The orange jell-o flows through the broken roof and drops onto the opponents.]
Styles: Jerri is insane! She’s on her feet and ripping the piercings out of her face! Now she’s climbing the cage.
[It takes a while for Sarah to start to move. She sees Jerri balanced at the top of the cage wall.]
SW: What the hell is she doing?
Styles: Plancha connects sending both women THROUGH THE CANVAS! Oh my God.
SW: Cut price material again, it’s practically rice paper. Hey, what’s that?
Styles: It’s a knife! Cutting through the canvas! It’s Jerri Li, she’s making the hole bigger… she’s removing the entire mat! The ring inside the cage has been transformed into a pit of weapons!
SW: Covered in a rainbow of jell-o!
Styles: Jerri has a steel chair! Chairshot! And another! A third! Sarah is in a world of hurt and Jerri doesn’t feel a thing. Jerri takes a frying pan and aims for Sarah but gets hit out of nowhere with a cookie sheet. Sarah has a fire extinguisher and blows the smoke into Jerri’s face!
SW: No! You’ll turn the jell-o into popsicles!
Styles: Sarah is setting up a table, with a heave she belly-to-belly suplexes Jerri against the cage wall and sends her falling head first through the wood. Sarah takes a lightube and soccer kicks it into the side of Jerri’s head. What is it going to take?!
[Jerri clutches onto Sarah’s clothes and claws her way to her feet.]
Styles: Jerri has her hands around Sarah’s throat. She’s choking her! Sarah pushes her away and grabs a baseball bat.
Jerri: Where’s your sword now?
Styles: Baseball bat shot to the champion! Sarah has fury in her eyes. Jerri spears her at the knees into a mountain of steel chairs and cookie sheets. Sarah snatches a cookie sheet and hits Jerri in the back of the head, and Jerri takes a steel chair and cracks it over Sarah’s face.
SW: This match is fucked up.
Styles: Jerri gutwrench lifts Sarah up into a tombstone position… Sarah kicks her feet and topples Jerri over, flipping back and using all her strength to pull Jerri up. Tombstone Piledriver onto that mountain of steel chairs! It’s a landslide of chairs as Jerri is driven all the way down. 1, 2, 3! Sarah beat her!
NH: Ladies and gentlemen here is your winner and NEW T&A XX DIVISION CHAMPION… SARAH THE JOBBER SLAYER!
Styles: She was pushed to the very edge.
SW: So was BOB's budget! Look at the ring! How are we supposed to have a main event now?
Styles: Flunky's got the duct tape. We'll be fine in no time. Well fans, up next, it's the one we've been waiting for. Death. Trey Vincent. Let's go to Mike Monroe who's standing by with BOB's Vice President in Charge of Everything. Mike?
Mike: Thanks, Mikey. Trey Vincent. You and Death have a long history, but for the majority of your careers, you've been on the same side. Tonight, for the very first time, you must face Death one on one.
Mike: Your thoughts?
TV: I'm really horny?
Mike: Um, about the match?
TV: Oh, right. Well. Let's just say that Death is in for a SURPRISE tonight.
MM: A surprise? Is it his birthday?
TV: Don't know, don't care. All I know is that I haven't tasted my last beer. I haven't fucked my last chick. And I haven't sports entertained my last match. Trey Vincent dies on his own terms, not on the terms of some invisible all-powerful creator type of force that's based wherever-the-fuck…let's say Indiana.
TV: Doesn't matter. I rule this 'verse, Death. Not you. Everyone knows I'm BOB's golden boy. Tonight, Death, prepare for a golden shower. iAd style.
[Meanwhile, Jerri Li is being attended to by medical staff. We have medical staff? Hopefully they’re medical staff and not just trying to feel Jerri up.]
Medical Staff#1: She’s so soft.
[*ahem* Anyway, she shoos the medical staff away, seemingly quite happy about having a broken arm. There is a mysterious figure hidden in the shadows.]
Jerri Li: Master, I lost my title.
[The figure emerges to reveal himself to be… Chingachgook!]
Chingachgook: Lotus blossom drifting gracefully along the river is caught on branch at some point or another.
Jerri Li: No offense, but what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Chingachgook: It means you have failed! And now you must be punished.
[He opens a door, Zombie Mr. Fantastic is standing on the other side.]
Chingachgook: You may have your way with her my new disciple.
[Zombie Mr. Fantastic eats Chingachgook’s face.]
SW: That’s him dead.
Jerri Li: Mr. Fantastic… will you… please eat my face?
[Clive rubs a thin layer of Vaseline over the camera lens and cheesy porno music starts to play. Mr. Fantastic swaggers over to the former T&A XX Division Champion and uses his rotting teeth infested with maggots to her face clean off, piercings and all. He chews right the way through, leaving a Mr. Fantastic shaped hole through her skull.]
Styles: Oh My Gyad!
SW: What? Did that kill her?
[Zombie Mr. Fantastic then slowly devours the rest of Jerri’s body and belches.]
Styles: It’s safe to say she wont be picking up any welfare checks anytime soon.
SW: BOB fired her? But she was such a hot piece of wasabi.
[Back at the ring, The Flunky isn't anywhere close to done. He surveys the damage.]
TF: Screw it.
[The Flunky leaves.]
NH: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is the main event of Running On Empty!
["Killed by Death" by Motorhead plays. Death gets booed by the Sin City fans.]
NH: Introducing first, now coming toward the destroyed ring. He is God's hitman, this is Death!
Styles: That's right, Scotty. The ring is a mess. How are we supposed to have a match now?
SW: They can fight where the ring's supposed to be, I guess? Mmm, orange jell-o. My favorite.
Styles: Give me some. I haven't had a decent meal all week.
SW: Get your own.
Styles: Would you!
SW: Neeeehhhh! Nehhhhh!
Styles: And his opponent…
["Not All Who Wander are Lost by DevilDriver hits. The crowd cheers*****]
NH: He weighs 265 pounds and hails from Sin City, the Vice President in Charge of Everything, and representing the incurable Apathy disorder, this is Trey Vincent.
Styles: OH my GOD! Death just got blindsided by Vincent and his cane.
Styles: Hold on! Steve Studnuts and Seth Harker coming out of the crowd now as well. What's going on here?
SW: Genius planning! Hahaha! Hey, look! The Jell-o In A Cell-o is coming down now!
Styles: Sarah's out here, too? Oh man! She's got the remote control for the cage! This is about to be four on one in that cage!
SW: Yeah, and Death has no friends. Awesome.
Styles: There's no way anybody can get in there to help.
SW: Yeah. Especially if you ignore that giant hole in the roof. Did you already forget? Death has NO friends here in BOB. He's a loner. And now he's a punching bag for the iAd and Sarah! Awesome.
Styles: Studnuts has the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS and just smashes it into Death's skull! Is this match underway? Is there a match?
SW: I doubt it. We're just about out of bandwidth.
Styles: Damnit! The iAd has just screwed us out of a dream match. I've been waiting years to see Death vs. Trey Vincent.
SW: Well, keep waiting. It ain't happening tonight.
Styles: The iAd is just brutalizing Death. Trey has Death up. Coming Down onto a pile of steel chairs! OhmyGOD! Harker heading up to the top rope. NIGHTBRINGER! Now Studnuts making a giant pile of weapons in the middle. Oh no! Death Valley of the Sun Driver coming up?
[The crowd suddenly begins booing.]
SW: Aw, man! It's The Great and Pete Trable. And Jerri Li? The crap is this? Didn't she just get eaten?
Styles: That's not Jerri Li.
Voiceover: The role of Jerri Li will now be played by some Asian chick who vaguely resembles Jerri Li.
Styles: Oh, man! This is about to get mighty EXTREME in a few seconds! Jerri Li's up the cage first!
[Huge pop as dives off the top of the cage and huracanrana's Seth Harker!]
Styles: OH MY GOD!
SW: Holy shit! That was awesome. Though Kay's gonna be mighty jealous about that one.
Styles: Studnuts and Vincent kicking at the cage so The Great and Trable can't get onto the roof or inside the cage.
SW: Look out!
Styles: HELLO! Cheesegraters to the crotch?
Styles: Trable and the Great are crawling inside now. And we're all evened up. Sarah takes Jerri and just tossed her into the side of the cage. CATFIGHT! CATFIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT! Jerri and Sarah just HATE each other. This feud may never die until one of them does.
SW: The Great and Studnuts going at it. Trable, let go of Trey!
Styles: Compacted Disk onto a light tube! Harker's got a can of gasoline? Oh, he just smashed Death in the back of the head with the can.
SW: Nice work. Beat up a guy when he's down, I say. Smart.
Styles: Fans, we'll see you on Wednesday for Total Non-Action Wrestling iMPLOSION! And in just a few weeks, please send us money for October Surprise. We're on the road to MEGABRAWL II, and it's total chaos here tonight at Running On Empty. Thanks everybody! Good night!
© 2008 BOB Wrestling!