Previously on Sunday Morning Chloroform:

"Is ‘eep’ too much of an understatement?" Sarah asked

MA: The following contest is NOT for the Pork & Beans Round the World in 80 Days Titles.

SW: Gee, I wonder if the champs will get pinned...

MA: Introducing first, Graphic Flatulence and Stinkbutt Nastyass, Fart Blanche!

["Wipeout (Gaseous Remix)" hits the speakers

MS: The SMELLIEST tag team in BOB history is on their way.

SW: Yep, they stink.

GF: Hey you *PTTTH*!

SN: Yeah, we have feelings too!

SW: I didn't mean your wrestling ability. I meant you guys stink.

SN: He's got us there, GF.

GF: You know what? *PPPPPFFTTTTTHHHWACK* him!

SN: Relax, GF, or you'll blow your rectum out again. You know you can't swear or it activates that chip in your head.

[Cut to Little Good.]

LG: Hey...hey! That's MY bloody gimmick!

[Back to the ring. "Better Days" by Tadpole is playing.]

MA: And their opponents. From Oakley, U.S.A., John "Skeeter" Skeet and Steve Leary, the Distorted Icons!

SW: Man, are these guys good.

NH: And sexy.

SW: Whoa, whoa, let's not go overboard.

NH: You may not have to, but I'm a woman and do you have any idea how hard it is to get my contract extended last week?

[Cut to a generic board room. Skeeter and Leary are sitting at a table with notebooks, pens and pencils scattered all over the table. Nurse Heidi walks in in a white miniskirt and tight white top.]

NH: Hi guys!

JS: Is two years good for you?

SL: Mmm, two years?

[Back to the ring.]

NH: You see?

SW: What was that? A flashback? Since when are we doing flashbacks?

NH: Since...

[Cut to a generic board room. Skeeter and Leary are sitting at a table with notebooks and pencils scattered all over the table. Nurse Heidi walks in in a white miniskirt and tight white top.]

NH: Hi guys!

JS: Is two years good for you!

SL: Mmm, two years?

[Back to the ring.]

NH: You see?

[Bell rings.]

SW: I thought LilBOSS was doing contract negotiations. Crap. Why do I even bother sucking up to anybody anymore.

NH: Nobody sucks up to the LilBOSS more than these two. Thus their stable name. The Sucks Ups.

SW: Well, they’re friends with Dustbuster Boy, I can’t hate them too much. Ah, you know what? These guys rule. I hope they keep those belts forever.

NH: Too bad you just got your raise, Scotty.

SL: Say, Steve?

JS: Yes, John?

SL: Can you dig it?

JS: Dig what?

SL: Dig it. Sucka.

JS: Oh, I can dig it.

SW: My god they are so white they’re albino.

JS: But watch this!

[Skeeter goes down to one knee and pumps his fist. He then attempt to do a, um...bookeroonie?]

SW: That’s good ol’ Booker J for ya.

NH: Ever since those booker jobs were posted, these guys have been none-to-subtle about wanting to book for BOB.

SL: LOL, no, we ain't subtle.

JS: He's about as subtle as Godzilla tap dancing on a nuclear warhead.

SW: Why does he talk like that? Who says LOL?

SL: LOL, I do!

SW: Well, here we go. Leary and GF to start. Leary holds his hand up in the air as if for a test of strength.

GF: Dude, did you forget to shower before you came out here?

SL: Hey, screw you .

GF: Screw ME? *PPPPTHWACK* you!

SW: GF misses with a big roundhouse right. Leary punches him. Punch. Punch. Punch. Whip to the ropes. Clothesline. GF goes down. Leary bounces off the ropes. Leg drop connects!

MS: That's his move!

NH: One, two, GF easily kicks out. Leary tags in Skeeter. Leary with another clothesline on GF. Skeeter wiggling his finger around. He dives off! GF rolls out of the way of the elbow drop! Oh, and Skeeter is hurting.

MS: What an amazing main event tonight, guys, huh? How about that Massive Man Rendition First!

SW: He's not even in the main event, Shill.

NH: GF tags in Stinkbutt Nastyass. But Skeeter is up. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. He kicks Nastyass in the gut. He hooks him in and is ready to hit a powerbomb!

*PPPPPPPPPTHWACK*

SW: But you can't powerbomb Stinkbutt!

NH: He doesn’t even know how to do an powerbomb!

SW: He does too! Oh crap. Skeeter just got a face full of lethal mustard gas. Stinkbutt lands on Skeeter. One. Two. Three! It's over!

MS: I guess Skeeter really has egg on his face after that match.

SW: Egg smell anyway. Fart Blanche racks up a huge win and no doubt sets up some sort of title match in the near future.

Bring On the Sunrise!

[The camera is set in the parking lot, where the view is set on a stream of blood. The cameraman follows the stream, across the gravel lot, until we meet a car, the stream leading to the unconscious body of the Dyslexic Avenger... The stream flowing from a cut in his masked forehead. An English 3 book lies beside his head... and across his stomach is the lone, spraypainted image... of a cat.]

NH: Hey, you think the JEWS are behind that?

SW: Why, because of the pussy?

NH: *Sigh*

SW: Nah, it doesn’t fit their gimmick. They don’t like to leave clues for the man. And besides, look, they’re playing cards backstage.

[We cut to the school cafeteria where the JEWS are indeed playing poker.]

BILL: How’s our friend doing these days?

Mr. X: Friend, which friend?

BILL: You know the one I mean.

Albert DeSalvo: You mean that bitch we beat up like nothing more than a prostitute? I hear she’s still in a coma.

BILL: Well, here’s to hoping she flatlines.

The Pussy: She could become a member of the Head Trauma Boys. You know. As the girl.

Mr. X: Who are you?

[They all raise their glasses.]

BILL: Salut.

BVD: DOOD! Full house!

Everyone else: I’m out.

BVD: HOOOOOOOOO! I was bluffing!

[Various groans are heard. Mr. X pulls out a gun and points it at BVD, but then waves himself off.]

The Pussy: What do you mean, who am I? I’m The Pussy.

Mr. X: Sure you are.

BVD: DOOD, what kind of name is The Pussy anyway?

The Pussy: This coming from a man named Brock Venereal Disease?

BVD: DOOD, whatever.

BILL: The Pussy is my oldest and dearest friend in the world. I brought him to be a part of this crew because I needed him.

Mr. X: You wanted Pussy.

BILL: And I got Pussy.

AD: I strangled a hooker.

BILL: That’s nice, Albert.

BVD: He killed a HOOOOOOOOO!

The Pussy: Did somebody call the woman who gave birth to me?

BILL: Yeah. I think BVD did.

BVD: Yep, I called his momma. A HOOOOOOOOO!

The Pussy: You callin’ my momma a ho?

BVD: DOOD! Whatever.

Outside of the school, Styles was sipping from a flask of some sort as Sarah tried to work a hula hoop, but failing miserably.

"Damn my skinny hips."

"Uh, guys? Action!" a voice said from somewhere.

With that, Styles put his flask away and Sarah kicked the hoop away along the pavement.

"So where was the last place you saw the Second? You say it was in Beaverton?"

"That’s right. In a cave. So I’m thinking I head to the airport, wait through a bunch of friskings under the guise of national security, hop a plane, hop off the plane and get frisked some more, hope my luggage is there, then find a rental car and a hotel room before I walk back into that Christmas tree shop, then start digging for a few minutes. Well, I should say *want* to dig, but realize I forgot to pack my shovel, so I have to find a hardware store and walk there, buy a shovel..."

Styles was looking at his watch and sighing repeatedly, getting louder and louder. "Sarah, SMC would long since be off the air before then. So, how about this. How about you just go to the Detached Narrator’s locker room in the school?"

"I like this plan. It makes more sense than mine," Sarah decided. "I missed you."

"OH my GOD!"

"What?"

"Nothing. Just felt like an ‘oh my god’ moment. Why don’t you go. Now."

"OK," Sarah said, turning around and heading back into the school. As she was walking down the hallway, she noticed a sign along the science wing: "Torture In Progress, Go Away! No Slayers Allowed!"

Sarah was about to turn the knob and go inside, but she remembered her action hero training, backed up a few steps and then charged forward. With a mighty kick, the door blasted inward. The room was in total darkness, except for the bright fluorescent lights. A shirtless man was chained to the wall, but a big black bag with a question mark painted on in white covered his identity.

Sarah was about to help him, but as she walked through the door, she noticed somebody off to the side. She quickly got into fighting position before she realized who it was.

The Uber Vampire Warrior.

"Hey, you’re Gangrel."

"Hmm hmm hmm hmm," The Uber Vampire Warrior responded before charging forward and punching her so hard, she went flying through the air and crashing into a chalkboard, which shattered into thousands of pieces. Sarah, dazed, grabbed a stool as she stood up and charged forward, trying to hit the Warrior with it, but he kicked her in the belly, grabbed the stool, and smacked her in the skull with it.

Moaning and grabbing her head, she rolled onto her back, only to see the legs of the stool coming right for her. She quickly rolled to the side as the legs smacked onto the tiled floor. Sarah rolled to her feet and kicked and punched at the Uber Vampire Warrior, but he blocked all her attempts, chuckling and licking his pointy teeth as he did it.

Sarah hopped up onto a table and hit a huraconrana, taking the Uber Vampire Warrior down. She rolled toward his ankle and grabbed hold.

"Time to bust a cap...and I ain’t talking about those fake teeth of yours," Sarah quipped.

She went for her classic knee breaking move. But it didn’t work. She twisted the knee in her usual break-it-but-good way, but still, the Uber Vampire Warrior remained there, laying on the ground, staring up at her, licking his vampire teeth.

"Hmm hmm hmm hmm. Hmm hmm hmm hmm."

Sarah’s jaw dropped in horror. The Uber Vampire Warrior rolled to his feet, kicking her in the stomach, punched her in the face and then tried to bite her neck. But Sarah ducked down and slid in between his legs and stumbled to her feet. She ran for the door, with the Uber Vampire Warrior right on her heels. As she was leaving, she grabbed the door knob and pulled it shut as she left.

The Uber Vampire Warrior crashed into the now closed door. He didn’t fall or seem hurt. Instead he seemed a tad confused. He scratched his blond mullet and looked at the door knob, as if contemplating how to get our of the room and get Sarah. So, he shrugged and turned around, content to go torture Little Good some more.

Outside, Sarah dragged herself along the hallway until Styles saw her.

"OH MY GOD! Was Bobby Brown in there?"

[Back to ringside. "Fire" by Jimi Hendrix plays.]

MA: The following is a six-man tag team contest. Now on their way to the ring. From the Netherworld, Death. From his own sick little mind, Kevin the Pyromaniac.

Crowd: u sukc!!1 u sukc!!1 u sukc!!1

MA: And from beyond the grave, XXXtreme Machine.

SW: Good choice of a team theme song here, I think. Fire is for Kevin. Jimi is for Death. And remember when XXXtreme Machine tried out that Jimi HendriXXX gimmick?

[Warning: Entering timely flashback mode. Now.]

JH: xcsue m3 wyl i kiz teh ski

[Cut to the rafters. Present day.]

Mr. Intensity: I'm telling you. If you and the AYOOYFM Title Belt jump at the same time, you'll both land at the same time in the ring.

Kamikazie Ken: That can't be right. I weigh about 200 pounds more than it.

AYOOYFMTB: ...

KK: Oh, I'll put my money where my mouth is, buddy.

AYOOYFMTB: ...

KK: Alright. We're on.

SW: Well, it looks like the title belt and Ken are about to test out the laws of physics here this morning.

NH: EXTREEEEME style. Sorry, if Mikey was here, he would have said it and you know it.

MS: This is the GREATEST moment in scientific sports entertainment HISTORY!

SW: But what Ken and the title belt don't realize is that about 30 feet below them, Kevin the Pyromaniac has found a convenient metal tub full of gasoline from under the ring. And he's just waiting for Ken and the belt to jump into a fiery inferno.

NH: Oddly, I don't think even if they saw it, it would be a deterrant. Ken is just dumb and the belt has no brains at all.

Mr. Intensity: ALL RIGHT! LET'S DO THIS! ONE! TWO! THREE! JUMP!!!

SW: Ken and the AYOOYFM belt are plunging down toward the gasoline. Ken drops his lighter into the gas.

*WHOOSH*

*SPLASH*

SW: Oh my god. Ken hops out of the fire. Burning like a big flaming cartoon character.

AYOOYFMTB: ...!!!

KK: I'll save you buddy! Ow! Ow! Ow! It burns! It burns!

Kevin: Pyromania ownz j00!

MI: You want PYROMANIA? I'VE GOT YOUR PYROMANIA RIGHT HERE!

SW: And now Mr. Intensity dives down.

NH: CROSS BODY BLOCK FROM THE RAFTERS. Wow! Cover! One! Two! Kickout by Kevin.

Death: Sometimes this job is just too easy...Mwahahahaha.

NH: What the? Mr. Intensity points to the flaming tub.

SW: He jumps in and is going up like a small children's orphanage after one kid just couldn't take it anymore.

NH: Ummkay.

MS: This is the HOTTEST show on TELEVISION TODAY! You only get people setting THEMSELVES ON FIRE in BOB, fans.

SW: And now Kevin hops into the fire.

Mr. Intensity: YEAAAAAAAAAH

Kevin: RUUUUUUAHHHH~!

SW: Both men hop out of the fire and into each other's arms. DUDE! That's SO gay! A double bear hug?

NH: Wow. Mr. Intensity has hit the Intense Bear Hug, but so has Kevin The Pyromaniac! It's now just a question of who will succumb to their injuries first.

Death: Ken, give me my belt back.

KK: He's not just a belt. He's my friend.

Death: No, it's not. It's just a piece of tin and your brain is so damaged you just imagine the damn thing is talking to you. It's not.

KK: Stop lying!

Death: If I was going to lie, I'd commend you on your gigantic penis.

KK: Well...thanks. Hey! Wait a second...

Death: Ken, I've spared you plenty of times. Don't make me kill you.

KK: Or what?

Death: ... I'll kill you.

KK: You'll kill me or what?

Death: There's really only one option here. I'll kill you and take my belt. Which I can do anyway. So just give me the belt and I won't kill you.

KK: Or what?

Death: Stop saying that. Give it!

SW: Death grabs hold of his You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt. But Ken won't let go. It's a tug of war.

NH: It's just like a love triangle, minus a pulse or two.

MS: Both beings WANT THAT TITLE In the WORST WAY!

SW: They want to have anal sex with it?

NH: Oh my god, will you PLEASE stop talking now?

SW: No. It's my show and I can keep making anal sex jokes if I want. Because we're "edgy."

NH: Can I please push you off that edge?

[Cut to Seth Harker.]

Seth (Edge): And while you're down there, mind grabbing my feet, eh?

[Back to the ring.]

SW: Intensity and Kevin are still locked in each other's arms. There is such a gay joke here. Let's see. Two flaming guys hugging each other. Where is it...

NH: Whoa, we have movement. Mr. Intensity collapses and Kevin is on top of him! One! Two! Three! Kevin's team wins!

Death: Whoo! (He raises his arms and raises the sign of the devil with his bony fingers. Then he realizes Ken is running away with the AYOOYFM belt) D'oh!

SW: Ken's luck may finally be running out. Nobody has yet defeated Death.

NH: Jean Bannister did, actually.

SW: Well...we'll see who dies first, Heidi. We'll just see, won't we?

Death: Oh, YOU won't Scotty. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

SW: *Gulp*

[In a hallway, Insano Mano stood in front of a vending machine, looking over all the candy, chips and other goodies he couldn’t afford to pay for on his BOB salary.]

IM: Mire eso. Apenas un bolso de Doritos dejado. Si solamente tenía 75 centavos, ese bolso podría ser el mío.

[Igpay Atinolay Eathay stepped into the picture.]

IAE: Eyhay, esseway. Ywhay onday’tay ouyay epstay asideway andway etlay Igpay Atinolay Eathay ooklay atway allway ethay oodfay, omeshay. Idday Iway earhay ouyay aysay omethingsay aboutway away agbay ofway Oritosday, esseway? Ackbay enwhay Iway asway addictedway otay ugsdray, omeshay, Iway usedway otay ovelay otay eatway Oritosday enwhay Iway adhay ethay unchiesmay, anmay.

IM: ¡Usted no puede drool sobre esas virutas, esas virutas es el mío! Bien, serían si hice más dinero.

IAE: Atwhay idday ouyay ustjay aysay otay emay, omeshay? Iway’may
ellingtay ouyay atthay agbay ouldway ebay inemay ifway Iway
ademay oremay oneymay.

IM: No, sería el mío.

IAE: Orrysay, onay. Itway ouldway ebay inemay, esseway.

SW: Yikes! Igpay Atinolay Eathay showing off that Pig Latin temper, he just broke the glass with Insano Mano’s face! And now he’s stealing the bag of chips.

NH: All this over a bag of chips neither man could afford?

SW: Yep. The writers must have been working overtime this week. At their paying jobs, and thus couldn’t come up with any good crap for US.

[In the factory's break room, Jerry Curl Jones is eating a sandwitch when ALEX walks up to him.]

JCJ: Oh, it's you. What are you up to?

*THWACK!*

MS: GARBAGE CAN TO THE HEAD!

SW: ALEX is beating the living crap out of Jerry with that garbage can! Now he's got a table! For an 8-bit sprite, he's got a hell of a lot of strength!

*SLAM!*

MS: HOLY MOLEY! ALEX just threw Jerry Curl Jones into a VENDING MACHINE! It's raining Doritos bags!

SW: Doritos again? What’s up with this? I hope they’re sponsoring us. And I’ll see some of the action for a change.

NH: Wait... why is he running at the machine? He just ran into it!

SW: I think that's so he can do the pin! He doesn't have a laying-down animation! Okay, he's down... on top of Jerry!

GR: ONE! TWO! THREE!

SW: And there goes Jerry Curl Jones! Who would have thought it - he just lost to a video game sprite...

[Elsewhere, backstage.]

XXXTreme Machine: bgg boz sumptinz uppp n du licker rum

BigBOSS: Did you say liquor room? Must be the iAd’s room. Which way, underling?

XXXTreme Machine: uuuuuuuh ovrr dur

BigBOSS: Nice work, Machine. Say, you’re smelling better? New cologne?

XM: o da irth

[BigBOSS shakes the hand of the Machine, and rushes in the direction he was pointing... only to be disappointed by the broken body of the Snapmare Kid, who is laid out through a table.)

BigBOSS: This looks like the handiwork of none other than...the Undietaker. Aside from the fact that SMK’s underpants still appear to be on and the Undietaker has no ability to spray paint...

[BigBOSS walks away as the camera zooms into SMK’s back, a spray-painted picture sprawled across... of a cat... Back in the gym, the sound of a Dustbuster roaring was heard before cutting into "Suk It Up" by hed(pe).]

MS: What is the meaning of this?

NH: Ugh. Scotty's annoying suck up cousin and his two loser friends are on their way out here. We don't have enough room for them to do commentary. I guess I'll have to leave.

SW: Yeah, hit the bricks. But do it slowly.

NH: Just for that, I'm walking away from the booth backwards.

SW: Woohoo!

NH: Oh, right. Well, I'll walk sideways then.

SW: Woohoo!

NH: Oh, right. Well...I'll just go then...

SW: Hey, Shill, why don't you go buy a soda or something.

MS: Can I borrow a dollar?

SW: Where do I work again? Go buy an imaginary soda. Or go slurp water out of the bathroom faucet for all I care.

MS: That's the GREATEST idea you've had!

SW: Whatever. Beat it. Dusty!

Dustbuster Boy: Scotty!

Steve Leary: Wassabi!

SW: Howdy, Steve. John.

John Skeet: Hey, dude.

SL: What a crazy night, eh?

SW: Yep. Even more stupidity than usual.

DB: Well, as you can probably guess, Scotty, I'm out here because tonight Coma is facing off against Sir Zeno in a number one contender's match for my coveted Swiss Army Belt.

SW: Yep. The one you won at Explosion of Injuries in a classic. With no help at all.

JS: You gotta love all-heel announce teams. We can say anything and it's fact. Like how me and Heidi got it on in the bathroom backstage before the show.

SW: Really? You got video of that?

SL: He doesn't, but I do. And if she wants the video, she'll have to sleep with me. For like, the next year. Every night.

SW: Wow. Genius. I'll let Heidi know that when she gets back out here. For some odd reason, I got the feeling she was disgusted by you guys for being suck ups.

DB: There's only one way to get ahead in this business, Scotty.

SW: Sleeping with the boss?

DB: Well, yeah, I guess there's that too...is that how you got this job?

SW: What? ...No.

JS: We were wondering how you were able to afford that Playstation 2.

SW: No. I've been doing some, uh, other work.

DB: Oh? Tell us.

SW: I'd rather not.

SL: Come on, we're all friends here.

SW: Well, there's this online show type of dealie. It's called Truck Ride To Destiny. It's about this dude who travels across the country in an 18-wheeler and picks up strange hitch hikers along the way.

DB: I see.

SW: Yeah. The last script I sold featured the dude picking up an alien in Kentucky. He had just stumbled across some penis enhancing drugs. Plenty of dick anal probe jokes to be had.

DB: I'm sure it was your usual blue humor that we all know and love. Anyhow, let's bring on the match, huh? If I wanted to sit and talk to Scotty Whatbody all day, I'd have brought beer to make it seem more tolerable.

SL: LOL! Nice one.

JS: You rule, Dusty.

Masked Announcer: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. This match will determine the number one contender for the Swiss Army Belt. Introducing first. From the pits of Mexico. Sir Zeno.

[Chop! WHOO! Chop! WHOO! Chop! WHOO! Chop! WHOO!]

DB: The hell?

[Whoops. Accidentally played my card filler there. My bad. It's so dark here today. I'm down to one lightbulb in here. Let's try this one...BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!~!]

SW: That sounds like the tape of wrestlers overcompensating for their lack of talent with mega-heel heat.

JS: Ah, the Triple H tape?

SL: Hi-yo! Sim sala bim!

DB: Is that Nucleo that came out with Zeno?

SW: Yep. Another frigging robot in BOB. Pretty soon...uh...never mind.

SL: Man, could you imagine Scotty Robotbody?

SW: Shut up! Don't give BigBOSS ideas!

[Meanwhile, in BigBOSSes office. He is staring at a robot version of Scotty Whatbody.]

Scotty Robotbody: (Monotone) Look at the cans on her. I'd like to cover her in my oil. Bwa ha ha ha ha.

[Back to ringside.]

SW: BWA HA HA! That's guy's GREAT!

MA: And his opponent. From Superwhackyfunland, COMA!

Voice-Over: Hello. I'm Mr. Ed! ONETWOTHREE!

[The theme song from "Mr. Ed" reworked by the Ramones begins playing. And it's a rare B-side or something, in case you're wondering...really. No, I'm not just making up things. Shut up.]

DB: Oh, good god. Why is Coma riding out on a horse?

SW: I am being told by the producers that no horse will be harmed during the next several minutes of this show. Even if it appears as though the horse is being tortured, it's really just drunk. Thank you.

Coma: Watch 'em big fella. This is the hour of my discontent. Poink!

Mr. Ed III: Hurry up so we can go find some fillies. I'm horny. And hungry. I'm so hungry I could eat a, me.

SW: And here we go.

DB: You know what, Mr. Ed the third? If you aren't careful around us, you could end up waking up next to Coma in bed. Without the rest of your body.

SL: Hey, watch this. (Whispering) You suck, Ed. (Normal) See? I'm a horse whisperer! Ah, I'm funny.

Mr. Ed III: Funny looking, yes.

JS: He got you there, Leary.

SL: Shut up, John.

SW: Uh oh. Nucleo is heading toward Mr. Ed III. This can't be good.

Nucleo: TALKING-HORSES-WERE-NEVER-FUNNY. THE-ONLY-FUNNY-HORSES-ARE-THE-ONES-THAT-BREAK-THEIR-ANKLES-AND-GET-SHOT.

Mr. Ed III: You want a piece of me?

SW: Holy crap. Nucleo just slapped Mr. Ed III!

DB: This should prove interesting.

SW: Nucleo rams Mr. Ed's head into the apron. And now he grabs him and tries to shove him into the ring.

JS: I hope the horse was trained properly to take bumps.

SL: He's a real horse in the ring.

SW: Nucleo backs Mr. Ed up into the corner. Coma and Zeno have paused their brawling for the moment. But Mr. Ed comes back and goes onto his hind legs.

*CLANG*

SW: Oh my, the sound of horse shoe on metal.

*CLANG*

SW: Ed connected with Nucleo there. Ed with a spinarama. Oh, tail whip to Nucleo. And Nucleo falls down. Nucleo retreats to a corner. Uh oh. Ed backs up and gallops in!

JS: GORE! GORE! GORE!

Sir Zeno: Hey! You can't do that to my robot!

SW: Oh boy. Sir Zeno is trying to DDT Ed. But Ed is blocking the attempt. The horse is no-selling?

SL: Well, this is no worse than bringing in football players.

JS: Except horses are smarter than football players.

SL: Right, of course.

DB: All I know is I'm not facing Mr. Ed. Screw that. I don't want to become like Christopher Reeve. BigBOSS would make me the first paraplegic wrestler.

JS: I think you'd be the second. Back in the '60s there was this guy...Johnny McParalyzed. He was drunk all the time and refused to admit to himself that he was paralyzed. He just claimed he was too drunk to walk.

SL: Nice gimmick.

SW: Uh oh. As if there wasn't enough chaos in the ring at the moment, Atomo the Living Robot just charged in.

DB: Hey, didn't Atomo and Coma get blown up in a nuclear accident at Kent State university or something? Why are they both alive?

SW: Atomo has unscrewed the antenna from his head. He hits Coma and knocks him to the mat.

DB: Uh, Scotty? What about that nuclear explosion?

SW: And the ref calls for the bell.

DB: Am I even here right now? Anyone? Anyone?

SL: Man, I guess Dusty is gonna have to face Coma after that outside interference.

DB: I should have figured. Coma's a face. I'm a mega-heel.It's a natural for me to face him.

MA: The winnerof the match, Sir Zeno!

DB: WHAT?!

MA: The winner of the match is Sir Zeno.

DB: What? How? Why?

MA: Sir Zeno won because Coma fell down. The match was scheduled for one fall.

SL: Dude, this is seriously screwed up.

JS: Dusty's gotta face Sir Zeno? You can't have heels vs. heels. That's so unwrestling like. We need to get on the booking committee.

SL: Fo shizzle. Let's go talk to Trey. I have a good feeling about that guy.

DB: Guys, wait for me.

SW: Well, there you go. Oh, geez. And now Mr. Ed just dropped a load in the ring. Flunky! Clean that shit up. We'll be back.

[douja, now completely fucking baked, is wandering through the machine floor, looking for the other bastards in this factory. There's a skittering noise overhead, and he looks up.]

douja: the fuck?

*SCNICKT!*

douja: oh, sh-

*BLAM!*

SW: It's Paradox! He just slammed douja over the head with the flat of his sword!

douja: huh? wut the fuck's this?

SW: douja swings and misses... Paradox is grabbing douja's head...

*WHACK!*

MS: HEAD-SLAM! RIGHT INTO THE MACHINERY!

SW: I'm not sure if douja felt that, but he's down anyway. Paradox drops his foot on douja's chest...

GR: ONE! TWO! THREE!

MS: IT'S TEAM PARADOX 2 TO 1!

[douja is left beaten on the factory floor as Paradox flits out of sight.]

douja: wut the fuck just happened?

[Let’s head "backstage." Oh, Sarah?]

STJS: What?

[Did you notice that one of your Slayers ran away and is out in the ring now? And she’s in danger?]

STJS: I hadn’t. Kinda nursing my own injuries at the moment.

[Ah, well, I was just talking to Death, and he said if you didn’t go out and help her, you’ll likely be planning her funeral.]

STJS: Fine. I’m on my way.

SW: What’s the deal? There is no Potential Slayer out in the ring? I sense a trap.

NH: Ya think?

MS: It’s the blackest plot in the history of human existence. And possibly even of the DINOSAURS reign of terror upon this globe!

SW: So, was the Second around when the dinosaurs were?

[Sure was. I was so good I jobbed out the entire race of dinosaurs. And let me tell you something. The human race is NEXT! Mwahahahahaha!]

SW: So, you’re not human?

[No. I’m not. For you see, I am—]

SW: Hold that thought! It’s SARAH! And she’s looking HOT! WooHOO!

NH: She gets to the ring. But I think she’s starting to realize there really wasn’t a runaway potential out here. In fact...

["Goliath And The Vampires" by Monster Magnet kicked in then. The arena became bathed in blood red lighting. How’s THAT for cool ass descripition, eh? Not bad. I should write that one down. Oh wait! I am! Anyway. A ring of fire appears through some mystical, scary, mysterious, occultic thing of some sort, and there stands the Uber Vampire Warrior!]

STJS: Permission to freak out?

SW: And here we go for what I’m being told by producers is an "impromptu street fight." What’s that? Oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell them YOU told me that? Or that? Or that? Right. Sorry. Pay me more then!

NH: Scotty, will you calm down.

SW: I’m calm.

NH: Sarah swings at the Uber Vampire Warrior. He blocks. She tries for a spin kick. He ducks. The Warrior punches her in the gut, but she can’t get her belly out of the way in time. And now she can’t get her face out of his fist’s way.

SW: Speak to me, Warriors. *Snarl*

NH: Please, stop, Scotty. Now. Sarah is face down on the mat. The Warrior chuckling as he stares down at her. He’s so sadistic.

[Not as sadistic as me. I would have been force feeding her bees.]

NH: ...

[Sarah’s allergic to bee stings?]

NH: Ohhh. Anyhow.

SW: Gangrel pulls Sarah up to her knees. Oh, baby. She’s in perfect position now.

NH: For what?

MS: To spit a RED SUBSTANCE in the Uber Vamp’s face!

SW: That wasn’t what I was going to say. So, Sarah spits, eh? Can’t say I’m surprised.

NH: Sarah rolls out of the ring, trying to escape the attack of the Uber Vampire Warrior.

SW: Fear the mullet.

NH: It looks like she’s trying to find a place to hide.

[A thin wall appears. Sarah runs behind it. Hey, Uber Vamp! Look behind the wall!]

SW: Heh, Detached Narrator is helping his Warrior out.

NH: The Warrior runs around behind the wall and grabs Sarah!

*CRASH*

NH: And she goes through the thin wall.

MS: She went CRASHING through that UNFORGIVING WALL!

SW: It must be a little forgiving, since she just, you know, went through it.

[A plate glass window appears.]

NH: Oh, what is this? Is this really entertaining? Having a big guy beat up a little woman?

[I think so. Especially since I despise that Jobber Slayer so much it makes my non-teeth ache.]

*SMASH*

SW: And Sarah goes through the window.

MS: What other dastardly objects can the UBER VAMP send her through?

SW: How about those archery targets over there?

[Sure! Uber Vamp! Those targets have Sarah’s name written all over them.]

UVW: Hmm hmm hmm hmm?

[Well, not literally. Just throw her into them.]

SW: And now the Uber Vampire Warrior tosses Sarah into the archery targets. Man. She must think she’s back with Little Good, the way she’s getting beat up.

NH: Scotty!

SW: What? That was their whole relationship. Remember?

NH: Well, yeah. But I don’t think Sarah is getting off on this.

SW: Weird. I am!

NH: You’d get off if you saw a compact disc.

SW: What? No I wouldn’t.

NH: Yes you would. Watch this. Now. Are you aroused?

SW: Yeah. But I was looking at your boobies through the hole in the CD!

NH: You pig.

[What else can I have you toss her through. How about this Homer Simpson standee?]

MS: Heaven’s to BETSY! The Uber Vampire Warrior just through Sarah through the cardboard cutout of Homer Simpson.

SW: D’oh.

NH: Now... Uber Vamp sets up a projector and pulls down a movie screen. He begins playing to movie. It’s of the Grand Canyon.

MS: My GOODNESS! He’s going to throw her down the Grand Canyon!

SW: Yes, the low-budget version.

MS: Stop that VAMPIRE!

SW: And there Sarah goes, plunging through the movie screen.

MS: Phew. That was a CLOSE CALL.

SW: Only in that twisted little mind of yours.

[Several cheerleaders run into the gymnasium.]

SW: Did I fall asleep again?

NH: Hey!

*Slap*

NH: Keep your hand off my leg.

SW: No, I’m awake. And oww. Several young, lovely, hot

NH: UNDERAGE...

SW: *Ahem* Cheerleaders have entered the room. And now, they’re forming a period.

NH: I think you mean pyramid.

SW: What did I say?

NH: You said period.

SW: Did I? Bwahahaha. It is a bunch of chicks. One of ‘em is bound to be on the rag, I guess. Hopefully not all of them.

NH: This is chaos.

MS: It’s BRAWLERS ON A BUDGET!

NH: The girls are stacked up. Nine of them, standing on each other’s shoulders.

SW: Does anybody have a mirror and a camera I could borrow?

MS: Whoa, NELLY!

NH: The Uber Vamp has Sarah up! He gorilla press slams her into the girls! The pyramid collapses down, and Sarah is buried in cheerleaders!

SW: Oh, if only I was Sarah. That beating would have been worth it.

[Cut to Kay Fabe.]

KF: Tell me about it. And hey, guys, shouldn’t we go help her.

Xamfir’s voice (from another room): Just a minute!

SW: Well. We need a break. And hopefully some girls need mouth to mouth. We’ll be right back.

[ALEX is in the factory's break room again, but this time someone's turned on the TV. Well, what do you know - ROXIE from RCR is on the screen.]

ROXIE: "What's up ALEX? ROXIE has some info for you."
"STEVE STUDNUTS is about to kick your ass."

*THUD!*

MS: Studnuts just stepped on ALEX! STUDNUTS JUST STEPPED ON ALEX!

GR: ONE! TWO! THREE!

SW: Is it just me, or is the Generic Ref more enthusiastic about his job than normal?

[ALEX flickers briefly, and then vanishes. For ALEX has lost all of his energy.]

NH: Is it just me, or can the rest of you hear River City Ransom's "Defeated" music?

MS: IT'S JUST YOU!

[Sounds of cookie jars breaking fill the arena, followed by a giant POP. Well, the biggest pop you can get out of a tiny little crowd. Hardcore JJ stomps down the aisle.]

SW: The littlest SOB is back in BOB.

MS: The toughest SUMMABITCH on the PLANET!

SW: I never, and I mean ever, want to hear you say the word ‘summabitch’ again, k?

MS: SUMMABITCH!

NH: Hardcore JJ, the former ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS.

Crowd: WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?

SW: Hmm. That chant lost steam quick.

NH: Why did he go away from BOB again?

SW: I think the Detached Narrator suspended him or something. I forget.

MS: But now with BIGBOSS back IN charge JJ can COME back TO work.

SW: Stop randomly shouting.

MS: SUMMABITCH!

SW: And stop saying SUMMABITCH. You’re not funny.

Hardcore JJ: For the last week, everyone has been asking Hardcore JJ. What?

Crowd: What?

JJ: You’re damn right. What was Hardcore JJ thinking when he came out and hit the JJ DROP on six pieces of trash in the middle of the ring.

Crowd: What?

JJ: I was thinking it’s time to get back my ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. And that means I have to beat Craptitude Man Rendition Feces. You may have changed your name, but you’re still the same dookie. And you still stink.

[The TinyTron comes to life. The little 13-inch black and white screen fizzes and bleeps for several seconds as it warms up.]

Voice: Yo dawg.

Crowd: What?

JJ: What?

Voice: The question isn’t what, JJ. The question is who. And believe me, it ain’t you, dawg. It’s the J to the C to the L-O-N-G. Bitch.

JJ: What? Sorry, let me clean the crap out of my ears you were just spewing.

J.C. Long: Yo, dawg, you can’t see me, I—

JJ: No kidding I can’t see you. That monitor is small. Granted, not as small as your weewee, but still pretty damn small.

J.C. Long: What?

Crowd: What?

JJ: What? I said your weewee is small, J.C. You got shrinkage even when you’re not in the shower, J.C. What are you gonna do about it, J.C.? You gonna rap at me some more you stupid summabitch? Why don’t you walk your sassy ass down this aisle and get in this ring so I can kick it. And that’s my last line cuz my mommy said so!

J.C. Long: Nah, beyotch, I gots me a better idea. How about you come and meet me out here? I’m out in the parking lot dude, and I’m all alone, you stupid little prick. So why don’t you come out here and you can suck my—

[Mic in the air. Possibly. The TinyTron was too small to see it for sure.]

MS: Dick!

SW: Well, JJ just tossed down the microphone. But wait. He’s calling for something from The Flunky. It’s Pepsi! JJ pops open a couple cans of Pepsi and dumps them over his head. Oh man, he’s gonna be all caffeinated up.

NH: And now JJ heads up the aisle. No doubt about to get attacked by Long and Massive Man OH NO! LOOK OUT JJ!

SW: A remote controlled 4x4 car is speeding right toward JJ!

*CRACK*

JJ: Oww, summabitch!

SW: That remote control car just ran down Hardcore JJ! He could have a shin splint after that!

NH: And here come the Ambulance Jockeys with a gurney to help that poor little guy out of here.

JJ: I don’t need any help you summabitches. I’m fine.

Garry: Relax man, you’re in shock. Just get on the stretcher.

Barry: Yeah.

Garry: Shut up, Barry.

JJ: I said I don’t need no sorry summabitch to help me.

MS: Who was DRIVING the remote control car?

SW: It’d have to be a really tiny person. But the windows were tinted.

NH: I think he means who had the remote control. Who was operating it.

SW: Oh, sure.

MS: This day will go down as the DAY OF INFAMY in BOB!

NH: JJ DROP on GARRY! JJ DROP ON BARRY! JJ DROP ON THE GURNEY! JJ sure is taking no prisoners tonight.

JJ: I’m gonna find out who tried to run down Hardcore JJ with the remote controlled car. And that’s my last line, ‘cause my mommy said so!

SW: It was probably J.C. Long. Or...do we employ any fat Samoans?

MS: What ELSE could possibly happen on the GREATEST CHLOROFORM IN BOB HISTORY?!

[On the factory's machine floor, atop a catwalk over a line of machinery, Paradox has his sword drawn and is slowly crossing. Studnuts steps onto the catwalk's other end.]

SS: Parasox.

Paradox: Studnuts. *Sheathes his sword*

SS: This ends now.

Paradox: Of course. On this catwalk?

SS: On the catwalk, motherfucker.

Paradox: Accepted. Begin.

*WHAM!*

SW: And Studnuts leads off with a boot to the gut! Paradox responds with a twin axe-handle to the chest! They're fighting for traction... And the machinery starts up! Sparks are flying with each hit!

NH: You know, forget it, I'm not even going to comment. *Walks out*

SW: Whatever. Paradox is losing his footing...

*SMACK!*

MS: PARADOX IS KICKED OFF THE CATWALK!

SW: He's caught himself on the edge... Studnuts is trying to stomp his fingers! Paradox gets back up, and he's... He's drawn his sword!

[In the factory, Paradox holds his sword out, when Studnuts looks up.]

SS: Am I loaded, or is the floor shaking?

Paradox: I definitely feel something.

Voice: Welllllll... It's the Big BO!

Paradox: Oh, crap...

MS: BOHEMOTH! IT'S BOHEMOTH! HE JUST SMASHED THROUGH THE WALL!

SW: The Big Bo is heading for the catwalk...

Paradox: Back! Stay back!

SS: Get away, motherfucker! Don't step on the...

*CRACK*

MS: THE CATWALK BROKE! THEY'RE PLUMMETING! WHOOOOOOOOO-

[Mark Shill's eyes roll back in his head, and he collapses onto the table. A tranq dart is sticking out of the back of his neck.]

SW: Thanks.

[No problem.]

SW: As my partner said before his KO, the catwalk has indeed broken off of its base, and Paradox, Studnuts, and Bohemoth are falling...

*BOING!*

SW: And Paradox and Studnuts land safely on Bohemoth's gut! But what's he doing here?

[Outside the factory, three Mexicans confer in bad accents.]

First Mexican: Thees time, we've got Meester Paradocks for sure!

Second Mexican: Reeco Anybody weell be proud... Getting Boheemoth was a chore een eetself.

Third Mexican: Now we just seet back and watch...

SW: Paradox is getting up! He's using Bohemoth for a springboard... Elbow drop to Studnuts! But Bohemoth is getting up...

MS: STUDNUTS IS PUSHING BOHEMOTH OVER!

[Paradox looks up, screams, and then time seems to stand still... wait, if that's the case, why am I still talking? Do yourself a favor and try not to think too hard about that.]

Death: The mortal known as Mister Paradox... You are dead. You shall come with me to-

*WHAM!*

[That was the sound of a knee to the ribs from Paradox to Death.]

Paradox: Sorry. Only the good die young.

*SWACK!*

[Hmmm... looks like I have to do all the work here. Suplex by Paradox... One, two three. Your winner, and new You-Gotta-Be-Kidding-I-Ain't-Doing-That-Are-You-Out-of-Your-Freakin-Mind Champion, Mr. Paradox. And now time unfreezes, and Mr. Paradox has just narrowly dodged Bohemoth.]

Wolfenator: ROAAARRR!

SS: The fuck?!?

MS: IT'S WOLFENATOR! HE'S ATTACKING STUDNUTS! AND HE'S RABID! MAD WRESTLER! MAD WRES-

*THWACK!*

SW: Thanks, Heidi.

NH: Not a problem.

SW: Wolfenator's beating the crap out of Studnuts... but Paradox just drew his sword, and...

*SHNICK!*

NH: He just decapitated Wolfenator! Is that even legal?

SW: In this case, it's just putting down a terminally-ill BOB jobber. I believe that's covered under state law...

GR: This match is a double-disqualification! Paradox is disqualified due to assistance by Wolfenator! Studnuts is disqualified due to assistance by Bohemoth! Get out of the factory!

Paradox: *Sheathes his sword* Very well... This is not over yet, Studnuts. There will be another match...

[Paradox climbs the wall and leaps through a window, landing softly on the ground below.]

SS: Fuck. Which way's the door, again?

["Orange Pants In Jail" grumbles into life over the PA.]

MS: Heavens to Betsy! Why is BIGBOSS on his WAY out here?

SW: Ego. Pure ego.

NH: I’d stroke his any time.

SW: You’d stroke his what?

NH: His ego, pig.

SW: Sure, Heidi. Whatever.

BigBOSS: Hello. Shill, get lost.

MS: THIS IS THE GREATEST ANNOUNCER REPLACEMENT IN CHLOROFORM HISTORY!

SW: That was just plain sad...

BigBOSS: Just give me the headset, underling...

MA: Ladies and gentlemen. This is your SMC main event. It is a 10-man tag team elimination match. The winning team will compete in a six-person Iron Man Match on the next Sunday Morning Chloroform! ... (Looks around at the non-reaction of the crowd.) Right then.

["Woke Up This Morning" by A3 hits the speakers.]

MA: Introducing first. From the general vicinity of New Jersey. At a combined weight of Rosie O’Donnell’s head, The Pussy, BVD, Albert DeSalvo, Mr. X and BILL...the JEWS!

BB: Whoa, whoa, whoa, who in the heck is this?

SW: Who's who?

[The camera cuts to the Flimsy Announce Desk, where two 'invaders' have arrived.]

NH: There are only about 25 people in the room. You can't figure it out?

BB: Security? Oh right, I couldn't afford them. What is the meaning of this?

Hack: Well let me tell ya somethin' Mean Gene!

Triple S: Hack, settle down, we left Okerlund's burger joint an hour ago...

BB: I know where YOU guys are from. You're from that place! In that state over up down there.

Triple S: Hey, hey, hey, I'll be the one askin' the questions. I'm the MANG-AH!!!

Double Gay: He asked a question???

Triple S: Are you questioning me, b!tch?

Double Gay: Hey, listen up Slappy. I may not have made it big in the WWWWWWWWWF like you, but at least I had the sense to knock out Japan before I fell for her transexual sex tricks!

Triple S: HEY! That was a one night stand! She was strictly my bodyguard... after that...

Hack: WHATCHA GONNA DO BROTHER?! Whatcha gonna do, when these 79 inch pythons run rampant...on...YOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUU?!!?!?!??!?!

Triple S: And besides, the only reason you never had Japan rooming in your motel suite, is because you're GAY!!!

Double Gay: GAY!!!

Triple S: ... Yeah, that's what I said...

Hack: PASTAMANIA'S RUNNIN' WILD!!!

SW: Pastamania? Gay? Whatcha? This all seems vaguely familiar...

BB: I don't know who sent you here, but let me tell you boys something. A little bit of manners goes a long way in MY federation. That and bribes. So why are you interrupting the main event?

Triple S: HEY!!! I will b!tch slap the taste out of your mouth if you don't quiet down! And as for you!!!

Double Gay: Yeah... yeah, I want one with extra sloppy cheese and mayo... oo, and add a couple bell peppers filled with oragano.

Triple S: WHY ARE YOU ODERING PIZZA WHEN THE MANG-AH IS SPEAKING!!!

Double Gay: Hold on Jim, Simpson's on my @ss again. *click* Ok, What are we doing again?

Hack: Yo, dude, what was the purpose of coming out here in the first place?

Triple S: Are you two questioning me?

Both: No! Of course not!

Triple S: Damnit, I've had enough of this. I'm getting bored as hell watching this sorry excuse for a wrestling show without seeing my face, or my wife's beautiful @ss, so THERE. There's your reason. Now excuse me while I go address the crowd... Gay, Hack...

Gay: Yo Jim, ya there?

[Trips snatches the phone and throws it into the crowd... or... where there SHOULD be a crowd...]

Triple S: Are you two coming or not?

Hack: Well...

Gay: Ugm...

Triple S: Allow me to rephrase that. Are you coming, or do I have to get Vince on the phone?

Both: OH GOD NO!!! WE'RE COMING, WE'RE COMING!!!

SW: These guys sure do talk a lot.

BB: Yes, yes they do. Well, if they talk this much, it's less booking to do. So, I'll let them speak. It's on their dime though.

NH: But what about the main event? Why don't you sick the JEWS on them?

BB: Hey, how about a little less suggesting and a little more shut the heck up?

SW: You tell 'er, BigB! You ain't here for the talking, baby.

NH: Yep. I've got the body. Though I don't know why in the hell YOU'RE here, Scotty.

SW: You think I know why I'm here?

NH: Alright. So. Is this like, an invasion or something?

BB: I guess so. I always feared this day would come. At least it's not those STWF losers! Ha! I put them out of business, you know.

SW: Gee, BigB. It looks like this group...the something World order is getting a little pissed at you.

BB: Does it?

SW: Yeah. Now we're blabbering on and on.

BB: (Looks at his watch) Blah blah blah. OK. Back to the sWo.

[The camera immediately begins to flicker black and white, static filtering through and covering the entire screen, as horizontal lines cascade downward like a waterfall. "Kill the Dragon" by DIO hits on the speakers, mixed up with random shoutings of things such as "WE ARE IN CONTROL!!!", "THE GREATEST ICONS IN WRESTLING!!!", and "CHER'S GREATEST HITS, NOW AT A WAL-MART BARGAIN SHOPPING CART NEAR YOU!!!"]

[Triple S, GG, and Hack take off the sets, and pose to the... 1... 2... 3... hold on, let me get my other hand... Triple S is the first to the apron, staring out across the crowd in his Darmani suit and ruby-tinted shades... as Hack stands on one side, and Gay the other. SSS lifts both arms to the air, and- OH MY GOD!!! Did you see that?! Of course you didn't, you're reading this for Christ Sake's... He spit water into the air... without a water bottle in sight!!!]

SW: I hear--

NH: Scotty, don't even go for the obvious Nurse Heidi swallows joke here...

[Trips steps through the middle rope, before meeting up with BVD.]

BVD: Dooooooooooooooooo-

BB: PETICURE!!!

[A faint "Hooo..." is heard leaving him with his last breath...]

NH: Yeah, I do kinda need one, don’t I?

BB: No, no, Triple S just hit a Peticure to BVD. And he's out baby, like a light!

SW: How do you know the name of his finisher? Something smells fishy. Besides Heidi.

NH: Shut up.

SW: Nice comeback. If you’re a kindergartner, I suppose. Or a nurse.

NH: Whatever. BILL hits the ring. IN comes Mr. X. In comes Pussy...

SW: Bwahahaha. Pussy just slid in. The Pussy must be wet!

BB: Scotty. Don’t get us thrown off the air. The three men storm toward the other three men... BIG BOOT! BIG BOOT!! BY GAWD, BIG BOOT!!!

SW: Who are you, the Commentator now?

BB: Oops. Must have forgot to re-edit this bit. *Ahem* One man just took out all three jobbers with a single boot!

[The man stands at approximately 6'7. Long dark brown hair, brown goatee, and white shirt with a black logo... with three letters...

s

W

o.]

NH: The tall

Frog 1: Out.

Frog 2: Si.

Frog 3: Der.

SW: What the HELL was that?

BB: Lawsuit protection.

SW: Ahh. Wait a second...how’d you know there could a lawsuit tonight?

BB: Uhh. Look! The floor!

NH: The big man picks up the Pussy, and sticks the Pussy between his legs.

SW: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!

NH: *Sigh* He then heaves up the Pussy, and BAM! Pussy is slammed to the mat. The Pussy hit hard and fast with that one.

SW: MWAHAHAHA! Oh, I LOVE PUSSY!

BB: The big man turns toward DeSalvo.

SW: I don’t think he’s ever had a prostitute that tall. He seems a bit unsure what to do. DeSalvo backing up.

BB: Right into a reverse tornado DDT. What is this now?

SW: I don’t know. A man in clown makeup and a bright and shiny red nose just laid out DeSalvo. Imagine how much he’d have to drink to get his nose THAT red.

NH: That’s a fake nose.

SW: Really? It looks so good. I have got to get his doctor’s name.

BB: So, now we have Double Gay, Hack, a tall man, a man in clown makeup, and Triple S. This could mean only one thing.

SW: Main event overkill. The bookers are at it again!

[Triple S smiles wickedly, before grabbing a microphone from the outside. He lifts it to his mouth... eyeing the crowd, savoring the jeers and catcalls... although those may be more for the Pussy...)

Triple S: Ladies and gentlemen... what you see here, these bodies... these corpses of wrestling WASTE... are but a sampling... a sip. Of the feast of destruction about to take place. We are the truth behind the veil in this business... the men who know about one thing, and one thing only. Winning.

Triple S: We don't fight for the fans, but we'll kindly take every last penny, nickel, and dime these empty-headed garbage collectors and cubicle warts have to shell out.

SW: That sounds like you, BigBOSS.

BB: It does, doesn't it?

Triple S: We live for the cash flow, and breath for the victory. And when we don't win... you can bet your @ss someone's headed for unemployment line. Anyone who even DARES to take a pinfall at our expense... will be dealt with accordingly. Whether it be backstage... at their home... or in a multi-million dollar court settlement.

SW: They do realize this is BOB, right? You won't see a million bucks in this fed over multiple lifetimes.

Triple S: There are men... men like BVD, men like Hooker T, men like... Massive Man Rendition First. That think if they stick it through, and give these mindless drones out in the crowd what they want, that some day, some way, that they'll have their time in the sunlight. Well, keep dreaming boys. Cuz the more you think about that day, the deeper you sink into the hole men like Double Gay, men like Hack, men like Slash, and kings like ME are burying you under!!! Which brings me... To Big Boss. (He points out to the announce position, and the owner of the company.)

Triple S: You know Biggie, I have contacts. And I bet I could have a certain man by the name of... Vince. Kicking down your door at the drop of a hat.

BB: Russo? God, that's low...

SW: Russo is the only guy who could successfully kill BOB, BOSS...

BB: I know, damnit, I know.

Triple S: After all the gimmicks you've stolen from him... all the storylines you KNEW he had thought of first... Well, let's just say your @ss could be sued, just, like, THAT. But no... that's not the direction I'm headed... Because you see... Why sue in his name... When you can bring the man right to this very arena. So... Ladies and gentlemen... Allow me to introduce the seventh, and most integral part of the sWo...The co-leader, alongside my man Reeve...Vince...

[The cameras suddenly go to black and white once more. A resounding thud begins to play repeatedly before kicking into Black Sabbath's "Iron Man." "I Heart NY" is shown on the Tron. And the lights are dimmed remarkably. Smoke filters up from the stage, before the music increases volume and a shadowed figure emerges from the curtain.]

BB: Oh. My. God. Vince is in BOB.

SW: Finally. Heidi, get ready to take that top off and roll around in yogurt.

[The figure picks up a mic, and begins to speak...But about 75% of his words are bleeped out. But his last words, can be heard as clear as crystal...

VR: BigBOSS... prepare for war. Arquette's on his way as we speak...

[Fade to black.]


© 2004 BOB Wrestling! Losing the ratings battle to infomercials each and every morning.

Brawlers On a Budget is an online fantasy parody wrestling sports entertainment federation (or e-fed) designed to be somewhat funny.

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