Voice-over: Weeeelllllll. Well it's his big toe!

Mark Shill: Whoa, NELLY! We are off and running in Belchertown, Massachusetts!

Scotty Whatbody: *Burp* And here comes the champ.

Nurse Heidi: On the last SMC, the sWo ruined the main event that was supposed to settle who Massive Man Rendition First would defend his ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS against for tonight. But plans have obviously changed.

MS: We have been invaded.

SW: Like a $40 prostitute.

NH: He's being accompanied by that MFer J.C. Long, a top suspect in the running down of Hardcore JJ.

SW: It was a remote-controlled hit and run. J.C. Long could miss a year with a nasty shin splint. But not Massive Man. Here he is with a stubbed toe, a condition that's been going on for upwards of four months, and do you hear him complaining?

MMR1: Man, does my toe hurt. Anyhow, hello losers! Massive Man Rendition First, your world champion, is out here this morning to talk because, well, I'm the champion. Now, since on the last Chloroform there was no relevant conclusion to the match, I guess that means that I don't have to defend my belt against anybody else. Let alone in a six-man Iron Man Match. So, in conclusion, you people all suck and I am your god. So I'm gonna head out back, hold down some more talented people than me and keep this belt for as long as I can while wrecking as many careers as I can in the process. Karma is a bitch, and so am I.

["Closer" by Nine Inch Nails began playing. Massive Man and Long both looked toward the entrance as none other than:

A. Xamfir strolled out John Travolta-style.

B. Kevin The Pyromaniac fell from the highest rafter engulfed in flames.

C. Violent Pacifist walked out to his own theme music.

D. All of the above.

If you said D, you would be wrong. The correct answer was C.]

NH: Since when do we have pop quizzes during narration?

[Since now.]

NH: Fair enough.

SW: Leave him alone. We're trying to make this show interactive. Though I think adding more pictures of hot chicks as the way to go. As a matter of fact, tonight's show is brought to you by:

SW: Stupid blondes. Got yours?

MMR1: What do you want, VP?

VP: I hold in my right hand a contract for March Mayhem. You see, I was talking to Trey Vincent, and he told me that he didn't think the pay-per-view was going to be long enough. Much like J.C.'s microphone.

J.C.: Oh no you di-int!

VP: So he agreed that at March Mayhem, there is going to be an ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS match. And it's gonna be an Iron Man match. And it's gonna be live on pay-per-view. And did I mention it's gonna be at March Mayhem. And that I am going to be your opponent?

MMR1: Eat me.

VP: Oh no. I'm not gonna eat you. I'm gonna BEAT you.

MMR1: Wow, that was so clever all the fans forgot to cheer.

VP: So I see...too clever you think?

MMR1: I'm not signing that contract, VP. At one time we were...uh...friends or something. But now. We're like, not. So. I don't know where I'm going with this, but let me assure you, IT'S NOT GOOD FOR YOU!

VP: Well, then...I guess we're gonna have to do things...the easy way.

MMR1: The easy way?

VP: Well, if you're me anyhow.

SW: VP kicks Massive Man in the stomach. Nine Inch Nailer!


SW: Massive Man is down. Now, besides his lingering toe injury, he could have a serious neck injury.

NH: His violent tendencies have gotten the better of him tonight. Long got out of the ring quicker than Scotty Whatbody after his latest conquest's father came home.

SW: Well, he is lighter than me...and he's dressed at the moment. Hey! Wait a second...


SW: But he's not done. Now he's taking Massive Man's hand and forging Massive Man's signature. This can't be legal, can it?


SW: What phone?

NH: It's Brandon. Brandon just hit the ring. Is he coming to save Massive Man, his former Kent State Krew stablemate.

SW: And roommate.

MS: And possibly lifemate.

SW: Did we get those lines reversed.

MS: I think so. My bad.

SW: Brandon and VP staring each other down. Brandon grabs Massive Man's mic.

Brandon: You know what, VP. I was just out back talking to Trey Vincent as well. Funny thing. I asked him if I could have that Iron Man match with Massive Man, and he was like, 'Whatever.' So guess what.

VP: What?

SW: Brandon just attacked VP! And why am I actually excited about this? I haven't used an exclamation point in months!

NH: Now Brandon grabs the pen from VP's hand. Brandon has just signed his name on the contract.

SW: Man, maybe I should go sign my name on the contract. I didn't know getting a title shot for the most prized belt in our company is this easy.

MS: What's going to happen next?


MS: I said...what's going to happen next?!



["Rock & Roll (Part 2)" began playing.]

NH: It's Jean Bannister! Another member of the supergroup Totally Face which is having more fights than a reunion of the Mickey Mouse Club.

JB: I'm going to keep this simple for you to understand, Brandon.

SW: Crosschecking by Bannister! Man, I haven't seen such a cheap shot from a hockey player like that since that guy who paralyzed that other guy.

NH: And now Bannister is picking up the pen.

SW: You think he knows how to spell his own name after all those hockey injuries?

NH: It sure looks like it. This Iron Man Match is starting to get crowded.


SW: Is that really how you spell 'way-layed'?

MS: I have NO IDEA, Scotty!

NH: Jim comes to the defense of his longtime tag team partner Brandon. One of the greatest tag teams of...wait, HE'S signing the contract too?

SW: He's trying to. He's looking for a spot. Ah, he turned it over. Plenty of room on the back. And I guess it's all legal.

NH: The Big Sir! Sir Hungalot is on his way to the ring. And he's got a DVD with him. That looks like his latest movie, "50 One-Night Stands."

SW: Great flick. Sir Hungalot has never been funnier.

MS: He HITS JIM OVER THE HEAD WITH THE DVD! But realizing it's only a cheap marketing tool and not an offensive weapon, he tosses it aside, grabs the steel chair, and knocks Jim's LIGHTS OUT!

SW: What a thrilling climax to this opening segment. All at the hands of Sir Hungalot. Who now also signs the contract.

MS: If my calculations are correct...that means SIX PEOPLE have signed this contract for a ONE ON ONE IRON MAN MATCH? What will become of this? What will Trey Vincent decide to do? What a controversial start to SMC!

["Pussy Liquor" by Rob Zombie begins playing next. And the Vice President of Everything, Trey Vincent steps out.]

TV: Hmm...quite a mess we have here. I've been thinking about this long and hard...much like Trey Junior...and have decided that at March Mayhem. We will have Massive Man Rendition First defending against Violent Pacifist. Against Brandon. Against Jim. Against Jean Bannister. And against Sir Hungalot. In a Six-Man Iron Man match!

*Insert pop here...please!*

TV: Thank you. March Mayhem, live on Pay-Per-View. Check local listings. April something-or-other.

NH: From behind, it's J.C. Long! That MFer low-blowed Hungalot.

SW: That hurt both men. That could be fatal for Hungalot, but Long feeling the affects as well. That's no ordinary man he just low-blowed.

MS: Long is helping Massive Man. And they're getting OUT of DODGE.

At the Belchertown bus station, a young woman with blonde hair was milling about. Some prankster had taped a "KILL ME" sign onto her back. She slowly walked around, as if she were waiting for somebody. Then she spied a pay telephone. As she approached it, the phone began to ring. She looked at it for a moment before reluctantly lifting up the receiver.

"Hello?" she asked.

"A ringing phone has to be answered, doesn't it?"

"Ohhh, no. I ain't getting sniper rifled!" She quickly hung up the phone and began looking through the phone book. From behind her, two men in hooded robes approached — one holding a bottle of ketchup and the other with a plastic knife. The blonde turned around as she heard their footsteps on the pavement. Suddenly, both of the hooded figures were lifted up from behind and thrown forward by a great force, giving them a taste of the concrete. Slowly, from the shadows, the blonde saw another blonde girl emerge. Crack. Crack. Two kneecaps. Two hooded figures gone.

"Inutu, right?" Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" asked the other blonde.

"You must be her. The Slayer."

"The one and only. Well...if you ignore Eliza and Bianca, which the booker certainly has of late..."

"The booker?"

"Don't worry. You'll get used to it. The bad booking. The bad money. The crippling depression. It'll almost become second nature."

"Booking? Money? Depression?"

"Yep. Welcome to BOB."

And now, it's...!

[In the school parking lot, Atomo was about ready to unveil his new stable to the Comedy Central viewers. Yes, all seven of them. The group was assembled against a brick wall.]



A: UNIT-1!

[Cut to a cloaked figure, who stands at about 5'11", and is completely rectangular. Since he's the strong silent type, he says nothing and does not move.]

A: UNIT-2!

[Another cloaked figure, standing about 1'5". It makes a whirring noise and its cloak billows out in a menacing fashion.]

A: UNIT-3!

[Yet another tiny cloaked figure, about the same height as the previous one, but much wider.]

Unit 3: BEEP!

A: UNIT-4!

[Okay, this one is pretty clearly a chair that has had a cloak draped over it.]

Unit 4: Watcha gonna do *click* Watcha gonna do *click* Watcha gonna do *click* (This continues for the rest of the segment)

A: UNIT-5!

[Unit 5 is a 4' cube. With a cloak, 'natch.]

Unit 5: *rumble rumble rumble*


[Static..."Angel of Death" by Slayer begins playing, cutting in and out with the growing and darkening static. The letters sWo fade in and out for several seconds before a caption appears on screen to accompany the speed metal classic...]

Caption: He's coming....back.

[Cut to black. Back at the arena, another odd collection is on their way down the aisle. The Drudley Boyz. Rubba Ray. D-Van. Small Tyke Grampa. Sign Dude. Geoff Gones. And Joel Bertner.]


[He hands the mic off to D-Van.]

D-Van: And now, it's time for Brother Bertner...to TESTIFY!

[Sign Dude holds up a "Future 25-time BOB Tag Team Champions" sign.]

JB: Well, well, well. It is I. Joel... "I'm more controversial than Janet Jackson's nipple. And when I'm with a chick, my fingers always hit a triple..." Bertner.

[Sign Dude holds up a "Janet Jackson = Disturbing Web site hits" sign.]

JB: Introducing first. He is the quiet behind the riot. The twisted behind the sister. And the motley behind the crue. Sign Dude Drudley.

[Sign Dude holds up a "I Love The '80s....Hair Bands!" sign.]

JB: Next. He is the big don. The man who puts the word 'old' in 'cold,' Grampa Drudley!

[Grampa is about to yell something, but his dentures fall onto the mat.]

GD: My teef!

[He bends over to pick up his teeth.


GD: My hip!

JB: From the south side of Drudleyville. Weighing in at a lean, mean, buff, tough, rough, slim, trim, chiseled, grizzled and JACKED...D-VAN DRUUUUUUUUDLEY! And his partner. A man who is not afraid to talk in all caps during in-ring promos. Gay marriage's worst nightmare...Rubba RAY, DRUUUUUUDLEY.

[Rubba Ray climbs up on the ropes and raises four fingers in the air. He then hops to the mat and takes the microphone back.]


Fat woman: No. This is a BOB show. Look at all the other empty seats in here.


Fat woman: No.


Fat woman: No...really? Well look at that...I am fat!


Fat woman: No, it's B positive actually.


Fat woman: Yeah, I'm a lesbian. What's your point?


Fat woman: You keep talking to me. I'm just waiting to see Kay Fabe, honestly. I don't even know who you are.

RRD: MY NAME IS RUH-RUH-RUH-RUH-RUH *D-Van smacks him in the back of the head* My name is Rubba Ray Drudley.

SW: All right. Will Atomo's new stable take the bait by the Drudleyz? Let's go backstage and find out. *Yawn*

Dennis: I say, Roboforce, old beans, the Drudley Boyz are in the ring and have just issued an open challenge. And they called you a bunch of Nancy-boys.


Dennis: You know...bent? Batting for the wrong team. A tinkerbell. A queen. A pansy.

Atomo: .-.-.?

Off-screen voice: Look out!


[Atomo, Dennis and the cameraman hurry out of the way as...]



MS: Good lord! A car just crashed into Atomo’s newly created stable! This is the blackest moment in the HISTORY of Sunday Morning Chloroform!

Announcer: You can learn a lot from a dummy. Don’t drink and drive. Buckle your safety belts.

SW: The hell?

NH: Don’t tell me they were filming a PSA here. Oh, what terrible timing. Poor Vince and Larry.

SW: Vince and Larry? Aww, I was hoping it was the losers from the group the Crash Test Dummies. I still hate that "Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm" song.

MS: What a horrific scene. Fans, we’ll be right back! Right now.

SW: Way to cover up a flub. Dennis? What’s going on back there.

[Dennis lifts up one of the black cloaks.]

Dennis: All of Atomo’s units have been destroyed. Except for Unit 5.

Unit 5: *Rumble rumble rumble*

Dennis: I say, is that a washing machine under that cloak?


Dennis: Where are you going old bean? You can’t fight the Drudleyz alone. Are you bloody mad?

SW: This should be good. Wait. Did I say good? I meant suck, sorry. My bad.

MA: And now coming to the ring, the Pop-Up-Ads-Crashed-My-Computer Champion, Atomo The Living Robot!

["Domo Origato Mr. Roboto" plays as Atomo walks down the aisle.]

SW: The Drudleyz are waiting for Atomo to get in. And now he gets in. Those Darn Drudleyz are stomping and punching Atomo.

NH: Poor Atomo.

SW: Ah, I forgot how much of a fan of battery-operated machinery you are.

NH: Oh, shut up, Scotty!

MS: Chloroform is OUT OF CONTROL!

SW: Rubba pulls out...a cheese grater! He goes to work on Atomo’s head. Oh man! Atomo is busted wide open!

NH: Oil is pouring down Atomo’s face.

SW: Oil? Isn’t that bloo—

NH: No, it’s OIL.

SW: Whatever. And Rubba Ray hits Atomo in the crotch with the cheese grater. This is great! This is my new favorite team.

NH: I’m surprised there isn’t a DQ.

SW: This is a Drudleyville Street Fight, ain’t it?

[Generic Ref shrugs.]

SW: And now D-Van has a slippery when wet sign. Oh, and he blasts Atomo over the head with it!

NH: D-Van drags Atomo up to his feet and whips him into the ropes.


SW: The Drudley Death Drop of Doom. The 4D connects! Drudleyz make a double cover. One. Two. Three. And this squash is all over.

NH: And the fans don’t seem to like the outcome of this one.

SW: And this is new? The fans don’t usually like any of our outcomes, Heidi.

MA: The winners of the match. The Drudley Boyz.

[Rubba Ray shoves D-Van.]


DVD: What?


SW: Did he just say get the ‘Trable’?

NH: That’s what it sounded like.

SW: Why does D-Van always have to get the table? Is it too menial a task for Rubba? Is D-Van Rubba’s slave or something?

NH: Scotty!

SW: What? What’d I say?

MS: D-Van goes under the ring. He pulls out...Pete "X-Factor" Trable! I don’t believe it! You only get wrestlers being used as weapons in BOB fans!

SW: *Sigh* Every week we just get more and more retarded.

NH: Rubba setting up Trabel so he’s on hands and knees. Rubba heads up to the second rope. Oh no! He’s going to powerbomb Atomo through the Trabel!

MS: Those darn Drudleyz! Somebody call the police!

SW: What the hell? Coma has that Unit 5, uh, thing. The washing machine.

NH: He must want to make his hamsters fluffy.

SW: So he’s trying to steal the washing machine by bringing it inside?

NH: I’m sure he was just borrowing it. Plus, his hamsters are usually kept in his locker room.

MS: Coma falls over!

Coma: Narfle!

SW: And now Unit 5 is rolling down the aisle.

MS: Unit 5 is trying to save Atomo!

SW: Are you high, man? The washing machine is just rolling down the aisle.

Unit 5: *Rumble rumble rumble*


NH: Unit 5 just hit the ring. And the Drudleys toss Atomo aside.


SW: Atomo uses the distraction to get out of the ring. And Trabel also gets out of the ring. My god, this plot is stupider than "the Matrix Revolutions." Did we hire the Wachoski brothers?

[Inside of a classroom at the Belchertown High School a group of desks had been re-arranged to form a medium-sized rectangle. Chit chat was taking place between the men seated behind those desks. Powerful men. Alright, that's going a bit far. Seated at one end (the skinny side) was BigBOSS. Seated opposite him was Trey Vincent. To BigBOSSes left sat LilBOSS and Dustbuster Boy. To BigBOSSes right sat John Skeet. The desk beside Skeet was oddly, empty. That's because the final member of the crew was off at the front of the classroom, clicking away on a Playstation 2 joystick. That man was Steve Leary.]

SL: Madden 2003. What an appropriate fucking name. Madden. I'm mad and getting madder!

TV: I hearby call this pre-show booking meeting to order.


TV: *Ahem* Anyhow...we've got March Mayhem coming up. And we need to figure out what the hell we're going to do for that show.

BB: Um, Trey? We do have Sunday Morning Chloroform today first.

TV: I know. But it's free. So who cares? We need to focus on the big picture. Those four rings aren't going to pay for themselves. We need to make people buy the pay-per-view. I know me being on the show will automatically spike the buy-rate, but after that...it's gonna be a tough-sell.

LB: How about we do a cage match? Everyone loves cage matches.

JS: Brilliant!

TV: You and your cage matches. No. Then how would people throw each other out of the ring?

LB: Over the top of the cage.

JS: Brilliant!

BB: Nah. I'm not shelling out any more money. You know how much steel cages cost these days?

LB: No.

BB: Well it's a lot, mister.

TV: Would you forget the cage? We're not doing it. It's gonna be like the Stupid Bowl from last year, but less confusing. Plus, I'm not thinking of 64 gimmick matches.

DB: You know what would be really cool? Have EVERYONE get eliminated, thus making a big controversy for the belt. So it ends up being a, uh, fatal, uh, 64-way?

TV: No Dusty finishes. We're going to have a winner, and we're going to do it in the most fair way possible.


[Leary begins whipping the controller cord violently up and down until the controller is ripped from the console. With a sigh, he gets up and puts the controller back in and resumes the game.]

BB: OK. Here's what we know. There will be four rings and 64 competitors. I nominate the Medium-Sized Bucket and a deck of cards to figure this thing out for us.

JS: Brilliant!

LB: We are the most random parody federation in existence.

BB: So, this much we know. The four rings are the four brackets. South. Midwest. West. East. In each ring, there will be 16 men. As teams are eliminated, so will the man representing that team. The only question is how to seed them. Thus my nomination of the Medium-Sized Bucket.

TV: Blast that bucket. Fine. Now. Do we announce publicly which sports entertainer gets which basketball team?

BB: Nah. If we tell the viewers who wins, they won't buy the show.

JS: Brilliant!

LB: So the question now, who do we let into this tournament.

TV: Well...I think this match won't be long enough to fill out the show, so, I suggest we have that 6-man Iron Man match for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS as the opening contest.

JS: Brilliant!

BB: With the Totally Face kids?

TV: Sure.

SL: They have earned the chance. Even if they have stopped visiting the Rant Zone and coming online.

TV: Oh, are you still with us?

SL: Kickoff. Need a second to calm my nerves and rest my yelling voice.

TV: Whatever. So, that would mean the Kent State Bitches and Pain and Pleasure wouldn't be in the big battle royale. Good by me.

BB: Very well. So it is booked.

TV: Speaking of booking, BOSS, what's up with this sWo by the way? I could be wrong, but it seems to me they're trying to rip off the iAd's already ripped off gimmick.

DB: The sWo. What does the even stand for? The something World order?

TV: All I know is they're not doing it half as good as the iAd.

JS: You the man, Trey!

BB: You know me, Trey. I'll hire anybody who'll work for below minimum wage. From 1975.

LB: You know what might make the six-man Iron Man match even better?

BB: ... A cage?

JS: Brilliant!

TV: No cage!

JS: Brilliant!

LB: Awww. You're no fun.

TV: I'm plenty of fun. When I'm drunk. Where is that booze?

BB: I dunno. The police said something about some rule where you can't have booze on campus.

TV: Man, you can't do anything these days. Can't get drunk in a school. Can't get drunk in an airport. Can't get drunk behind the wheel in the privacy of my own Jeep. Well I drive better drunk, damnit. Especially when it's 2 a.m. and I put a hand over my left eye. To stop the double vision, ya know?

BB: You're a true professional. Drunk, that is.

TV: Damn right.

BB: Ah, idea!

TV: Yes?

BB: I get a deck of cards. We put it in the Medium-Sized Bucket. If the wrestler draws a spade, he's in the south. Club in the west. Heart in the Midwest. Diamond in the, uh...which one didn't I say yet? East?

JS: Brilliant!

TV: Works for me. And then, once we figure out which bracket people are in, we put 16 cards into the Bucket. Assign them a card. We start at 1 and then go in order until we get to 16. And whatever order they're pulled out, we match 'em up with the team.

JS: Brilliant!

TV: I thought so.

BB: Sounds like a plan to me.

TV: Now. Who will be in the match.

[There is a knock at the door. The Flunky enters.]

TF: Uh, hey guys. You do know the show has started, right? There is a paying crowd out there.

TV: No refunds.

BB: Right.

SL: DIE! Just, DIE!

TV: Umm...should we book something?

LB: How about--


LB: ... I wasn't going to say a cage match.

BB: OK. Send out some of my trained monkeys.

TV: This is far more entertaining. I mean, I'm here.

BB: Let's go to the ring...

SW: I understand that the war with BOB and the sWo is about to hit the ring now. Some losers like Shill are content to stand back and let it happen. But not me. I’m gonna stand up to this dumb little group.

NH: Really? I’m rather surprised to hear that.

SW: That’s right, Heidi. I’m not afraid of anybody in that group. As a matter of fact...

NH: Scotty? Where are you going?

MS: This is the strangest turn of events in the HISTORY OF THIS SHOW!

NH: No kidding. Scotty Whatbody is heading to the ring.

SW: Excuse me, excuse me. Hello. I’d like to officially issue an open challenge to those big LOSERS in the something World order. That’s right. The ess dubya oh! I’ll take on not one. Not two. Not three. Not even four. But...oh wait, it was four. I’ll take on FOUR of you. Right now!

NH: Man, you’d think he had some sort of dream about kissing Reeve Gordon or something.

SW: Heidi!

NH: Oh, was that in confidence? *Snicker*

SW: You bitch!

Voice-over: s-s-s—"It's time to job to the Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaang!"

SW: Yeah, that’s right. Bring it on.

[Triple-S, Hack Hokin, Kevin Slash and Reeve Gordon walk out from the back carrying newly-printed catalogs of their latest merchandise. They throw them out into the crowd as they walk down the aisle. Hey, toss me one boys. I could give somebody some nasty paper cuts later on with that. Thanks, boys!]

NH: Detached Narrator getting chummy with the sWo. No doubt they’re heels after that.


NH: But does Scotty have some sort of plan?

MS: It’s a LONG SHOT, Heidi.

NH: I know. Scotty and plans don’t usually work out. Much like most of his relationships.

MS: The sWo is surrounding Scotty like a pack of wolves! You could almost say, it’s as if, a wolf pack is surrounding the ring.

NH: But you won’t say that.

SW: Guess what? I’ve got backup tonight. Because tonight, it’s going to be a four-on-four elimination match. Between you four and three partners of mine. Say hello to...Seth Harker, Steve Studnuts and Trey Vincent!

Voice-over: A new-new-new-new incurable Apathy disorder.

NH: And no doubt, the iAd is going to destroy the sWo here tonight. They mastered the art of not putting anyone over for years. The sWo are just amateurs compared to them.

MS: I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be happy to see the iAd.

NH: The iAd came to BOB in an attempt to...uh...do something to it. But BOB is still standing. As the old saying goes, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. And I guess tonight, the iAd is joining BOB to fight off the sWo.

MS: Right you are, Heidi. Right YOU are.

NH: And I’m sure any second now, there music will hit and they’ll walk out here to face this challenge head on.

MS: The sWo is looking MIGHTY worried. And I would be too if the iAd was gunning for me.

NH: You get worried if the Girl Scouts come to your door trying to sell cookies. C’mon. Where are they?

["Pussy Liquor" by Rob Zombie finally plays. Trey Vincent slowly walks out.]

TV: Hey, Scotty? Yeah. When the iAd agreed to help you, we were really kinda drunk. We all forgot about this match tonight. So we’re gonna have to go to a backup plan.

SW: *Gulp*

TV: Myself, Trey Vincent, is busy backstage putting together the greatest pay-per-view of the month, March Mayhem. So, I can’t sports entertain tonight. Seth Harker it seems broke his foot or something, so he can’t be in this morning. And Steve Studnuts missed his plane out of Phoenix, so, you kinda have no partners at the moment. However. I have found one volunteer to help you out in what will be a four-on-two match. Ladies and gentleman, Scotty Whatbody’s tag team partner, my man, DEATH!

MS: Heavens to Betsy! What a moment! It’s, DEATH!

["Killed By Death" by Motorhead hits the speakers. And the Million Dollar Entity walks out from the back with his gold scythe, wearing his designer cloak.]

NH: Man, Death is styling tonight. He climbs over the top rope and raises his bony fingers in the air, getting a surprisingly good reaction from the crowd.

MS: There’s the bell. WHO will the sWo send in to face Death first?

NH: Looks like Kevin Slash is heading in first.


NH: Oww! Slash just collapsed in a heap. That didn’t sound good. Slash is tapping out.

MS: Man, that looks like it could be a career-threatening injury, Heidi! Look at the pain on his face!

NH: Now he rolls out of the ring. Hey! He’s skipping up the aisle! That faker.

MS: Probably the smartest move he’ll make in his career!

MA: Kevin Slash has been eliminated by, uh, himself?

NH: The winner of this match will go on to the Triple Cage of Doom match later tonight against the winner of our next contest, a 10-man elimination match. I sure hope we get BOB member vs. BOB member, but the booking tells me otherwise.

MS: Here comes the Hackster. They lock up. Knee lift! Knee lift! Knee lift. Death scoops up Hack. BIG SIDE SLAM.

NH: Death pulls Hack up to his feet. Kick to the gut. Here’s a new move!


NH: Death makes a cover! One. Two. Three! Hack is eliminated. It’s down to two on two. And Triple-S reluctantly steps through the ropes. Lock up. Punch by Trips. Punch by Death. Punch by Trips. Punch by Death. Punch by Trips. Punch by Death. What a...boring slugfest here.

MS: Punch. PUNCH! Punch. PUNCH!

NH: Death whips Triple-S to the ropes. Big bony foot to the face! Death drops an elbow, but misses. That’s gotta smart, huh?

MS: Seems like just a regular fall to me, Heidi.

NH: Way to sell it, Shill.

MS: I had to take on some of Scotty’s lines...bitch.

NH: Hey! Triple-S going to work on Death’s right arm. That’s his killing arm! Smart strategy. If Death can’t move his arm, he can’t hit the Touch of Death and kill Triple-S.

MS: I’m still waiting to see Scotty get in this thing.

NH: Trust me, if he gets in there, this thing is all over. If he’s smart, he’ll just let Death do his thing.

MS: Triple-S pulls up Death. Punch. Punch. Punch. Triple-S takes a couple steps back. He charges. High knee! Oh my GOODNESS. Both men fall to the floor! Well, one man and one entity...FALL TO THE UNFORGIVING CONCRETE!

NH: Generic Ref starting the count.

GR: One. Two. Seven. Nine. Six. Ten!

MA: Due to a poor count out, Triple-S and Death have both been eliminated!

NH: Uh-oh. Now Scotty’s gotta wrestle. Against Reeve Gordon of all people.

SW: Damn it!

NH: Reeve’s got the pink sports bra. The black leather pants. The red high-heeled boots. I’m sure it’s easy enough to confuse him with a chick.

SW: Shut up, Heidi!

NH: Bwahahaha! Scotty and Reeve circling each other. Scotty charges? The hell? He tackles Reeve. He throws punches at Gordon, but Gordon is avoiding all of them.

MS: Reeve reverses and Scotty rolls away. Very slowly.

NH: In all fairness, Scotty is quite out of shape. Reeve grabs Scotty by the head and yanks him up. Oh no! Reeve is trying to lock in the Freedom Kiss!


[Bell sounds.]

MA: The winner of the match, Reeve Gordon and Team sWo.

MS: This is the blackest moment in SMC history!

NH: Yeah, I wanted to see Scotty get kissed by that dude. Imagine the jokes I could make? Damn...I may have to ask Reeve to do me a favor sometime. I could bribe him with shoes. He looks about my size. Oh, hey, Scotty.

SW: Did you see what that queer tried to do to me? I know I’m sexy and irresistible, as you’ve proven week after week Heidi, but, you know? That’s just wrong.

NH: Irresistible? *Pffft* Right.

SW: Let's go to the pre-tape now. I need to go take a shower.

NH: Shower, eh?

SW: Don't you DARE tell Reeve where I'm going? Heidi? Heidi! Get back here!

[The roof of a high-rise apartment building, somewhere in town. There are two elevators on either side, and the Masked Announcer and Generic Ref stand between them. The elevator doors open, and from one emerges the sWo team, while the BOB team emerges from the other. The Agency members, for some reason, are bound, gagged, and being dragged by Meat-Puppet while standing on top of greased pizza pans. Mr. Paradox is carrying a boombox.]

MA: Ummm... what's with the boombox?

Paradox: Eddie B. is scared of heights, so I brought the theme music.

MA: ...okay. Introducing first, representing Team sWo, Francis!

[Paradox hits "Play" on the boombox, which is set to "sample". Five seconds of "Killer Klowns From Outer Space" plays.]

MA: Double Gay!

[Five seconds of the "Running Faggot" theme from Kids in the Hall.]

MA: Ed Tenta-Shaw!

[Five seconds of "Fuck the World" by ICP.]

MA: Hooker T!

[A loud yell of "BLOWWWAAAAAA!" followed by five seconds of Booker T's theme.]

MA: And finally, Pete "The X-Factor" Trable!

[Five seconds of "Rap is Crap" by the late Curt Hennig. Everyone bows their heads in tribute. Paradox removes his hat, revealing he has tiny horns growing out of his forehead.]

MA: And now, representing Team BOB, Sir Zeno!

[Paradox puts his hat back on, and five seconds of "Narayan" by Prodigy hits.]

MA: Mr. Paradox!

[Five seconds of "Are We Ourselves?" by the Fixx.]

MA: Meat-Puppet!

[Five seconds of "Chemical Burn" by the Chemical Brothers.]

MA: And Sculder and Mully, the Agency!

[Five seconds of the X-Files theme. The two wrestlers in question struggle against their bonds. We then cut to what's cleary a Powerpoint slideshow, and the rules for the match appear on it.]

SW: Okay, here's the rules. You can only eliminate an opponent by throwing them off the roof and into the ring of pork bellies surrounding the building.

NH: How much did Russo have to bribe the building owners for this match?

[Cut to a very downhearted-looking Pope John Paul II doing the Monkey in front of a bunch of laughing Arabs.]

SW: Quite a bit, as I understand. The winning team is the last one with members on top of the building.


SW: And there's the bell! Meat-Puppet and Mr. Paradox grab Sculder...



SW: And how! Team BOB slid Sculder across the roof, into Pete Trable, and eliminated both of them!


SW: There goes Mully and Double Gay!


SW: And Meat-Puppet just got thrown into Francis! Both of them just went flying off the edge! Both teams are down to two members and we're only ten seconds into the match!

NH: But... why would they throw away their own team members like that?

SW: Honestly. How often has the Agency actually done anything? As for Meat-Puppet, Generic Ref took away Paradox's boombox, so he was useless.

NH: Either that, or the guy writing this match just hates five-on-fives.

SW: Heidi, you've been warned about breaking the fourth wall.


SW: Now Mr. Paradox is brawling with Hooker T... Knee to the chin! Knee to the neck! Reverse backbreaker with a Spanish twist!

NH: Huh? I don't recall seeing that...

MS: Neither do I.

SW: According to my script, the move erases itself from memory on impact! Hooker T grabs... his own crotch?


SW: And breaking the laws of physics, Hooker is beating Paradox with his legs! What th-



NH: Why the hell did he do that?!?

SW: I understand he has a deal with the BigBOSS - he gets a nice sum of money for every jobber he kills. Hooker T's corpse goes flying off the building, and it's 2-to-1 in favor of Team BOB...


SW: Spoke too soon! Paradox steps on a spring-loaded panel, and he's out of here - head-first over the edge!

NH: And the panel's there because...?

(Cut to the base of the building, where three Mexicans sit and talk.)

Mexican 1: Theese time, he shood die for sure!

Mexican 2: Yees, Reeco Anybody will pay us weell.

(Paradox lands sword-first on the Mexicans, and blood coats the camera. Back to the announcers...)

SW: Damn it! That could've gone on our "Too Goddamn Cool For TV" video...

NH: Hang on, Zeno and Ed Tenta-Shaw have met in the center of the roof/ring...

Zeno: Ed, aren't you late for the latest Mystery Sports-Entertainment Theater episode?

Ed: Oh, fuck, you're right! Excuse me...


Zeno: Idiot.

MA: And the winner, by elimination, Team BOB and Sir Zeno!

In the Shaggy Gang's locker room, Kay Fabe was looking mighty cozy in bed with Kennedy. Why there is a bed in a classroom? It's Kay Fabe. She's a lesbian. Lesbians in bed = ratings. Fair enough?

"So you're a witch, huh?" Kennedy asked. "Show me a trick."

"Well, I can do this funny thing with ping pong balls...ohhh, you meant a magick trick. Sorry. I can't. I'm still recovering from a vague trauma involving the Domino which the bookers have yet to explain."

"That sucks."

"Yep. Well. We should get some, uh, sleep," Kay suggested.

"I think I'd rather see your ping pong ball trick..." *Wink*

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the same room....

"I still can't believe it. She's all about, control you're inner-blonde, and then, duh, she goes running out to the ring, even though none of us were out there," Claire Voyant told her fellow Slayers-In-Training, Kara Yoki and Wilma "The Librarian."

"You know what would make us feel better?" Kara asked. "Singing."

"You know what else would make us feel better? Not," Claire responded. "Interrupt much? Geez."

"All I know is Sarah looked like a big bruise when she came back from getting beat up by the Uber Vampire Warrior on the last Chloroform, assuming of course, what with the being thrown into those archery targets, the Homer Simpson standee, the plate glass window and the human cheerleader pyramid," Wilma said.

That's when Xander crawled out from underneath the teacher's desk. "Can we save the plot points for another day? I'm really tired."

"Kinda can't brainless wonder," Claire responded. "Here's a phone, call someone who cares."

Xamfir grabbed the phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Uncle Guido? Remember that favor I did you--"

"Give me that!" Claire demanded, yanking the cell phone away from Xamfir.

The classroom door opened and in walked Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" with the newest Slayer-In-Training, Inutu.

"Everybody, this is Inutu."

Everyone greeted her. Then a ping pong ball hit her in the head.

"Guys. How about you go show Inutu the kitchen and cafeteria. Everyone could use some food. Even if it's school food," Styles suggested. "OH MY GOD!"

"I make a mean taco," Wilma said as the four headed out of the room.

"So, did things get extreme?" Styles asked Sarah.

"Way. It always seems like the Second is one step ahead of us," Sarah said. "I need to know how to fight him. To hurt him. To torture him."

[Oh, baby. You are making me HOT!]

"I'm doing my best with the researching and the random screaming of familiar catchphrases," Styles said.

"Anything on the Uber Vampire Warrior?" Sarah asked. "Busting his knee cap didn't work. Any clue what could kill him? Sunlight? Stakes? Cutting his mullet?"

"Sadly, his power is not in his hair," Styles said.

"All I know is we have to rescue Little Good."

Claire returned to the classroom. "Little Good? He's a jobber, isn't he. Didn't he jobberfy some dyslexic guy? And you want to help him, why?"

"Little Good is different. He's a jobber, but he's got a puppy now."

"Oh, no! Not more puppy crap!"

"His puppy is house broken," Sarah said, pouting.

"Not crap-crap. I mean stupidity."

"Sounds like somebody's got puppy-envy," Xamfir said.

"Shut up."

"Guys. Please. Little Good is running out of time. We need a plan. Preferably, sometime this episode," Sarah said.

[Back to the booking meeting we go. Hi-ho. Hi-ho.]

TV: OK. You got the roster, Skeeter?

JS: Right here, Treyster.

TV: Thanks. Alright. From the top.

BB: Hold on. First of all, we need mystery entrants.

TV: Hmm. Luke Warm?

BB: If I told you, it wouldn't be a mystery.

TV: Like anybody really cares what old-timer you managed to talk into resuming a fading career. Now. Let's do this. OK. First of all, Trey Vincent, Steve Studnuts and Seth Harker are in.

JS: Say, could I nominate three hard-working fellows?

TV: I guess...

JS: I nominate Steve Leary, Dustbuster Boy and myself.

TV: Ugh. Your stable sucks. I've never seen three bigger losers in my life. But fine. You're in.

JS: Nice...

TV: I say we put some T&A into the mix. I'd love to get my hands on Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" again. Specifically on her knockers. Giggity-giggity-giggity!

BB: "Family Guy?"

TV: Oh yeah. Good call. So, who else we got that's hot?

DB: Kay Fabe. Hot lesbian. And a redhead.

TV: She's in. Who else?

LB: Candy Cantaloupes. Plus, she's always good for Web search hits.

TV: Double bonus. She's in. What about that new chick. Misty Waters? That chick was fine. I sure as hell wouldn't kick her out of bed. On purpose anyway. She's in.

[Knock knock.]

TV: Who's there?

NH: Nurse Heidi.

TV: Nurse Heidi who?

NH: Nurse Heidi, the announcer-slash-wrestler.

TV: I don't get it.

JS: Come in Heidi.

[Heidi opens the door.]

BB: Hey, who's in charge here? Heidi, please go outside and wait for my permission to come in.

NH: (She rolls her eyes and heads back out.)

BB: Come in, Heidi.

[Heidi re-enters.]

TV: Now, can you pause there for a moment and slowly take off your top.

NH: No.

TV: Damn. I was this close, guys (he said, holding his index finger and thumb very close together).

NH: Is that how big Trey Jr. is?

SL: Hi-yo!

JS: Burn!

TV: Shut up jackfucks.

SL + JS: Sorry, boss.

BB: For what?

NH: Listen. I wanted to ask. I have these two friends who wanted to come to BOB as a female tag team.

TV: Two chicks? What are their names?

NH: Britney Smears and Christina Gaguilera.

TV: I see...hmm, let me thin a sec--sure. They're hired.

DB: Those are porn names, aren't they?

NH: Yeah. Lord knows why they'd want to leave porn and come into such a sleazy business. Oh well. We gonna have some more matches soon? It's scary. Scotty is actually running out of clever ways to make me get disgusted.

TV: Really? That ain't good. Alright. Let's do Mr. Intensity vs. Kevin The Pyromaniac.

JS: Brilliant!

NH: Cool. I'll let them know.

TV: I hate to see you go, but I'm glad to watch you leave.


DB: He's really into that game, ain't he?

LB: What's the score, buddy?

SL: Grrr. I'm up 28-21, but those FUCKERS just hit a 30-yard bomb. And I have no FUCKING DEFENSE! I hope a pixelated god KILLS YOU ALL!


MA: The following match thing is scheduled for one fall!


[‘Slaughterama’ by Gwar blares through the speakers at tremendous volume as Mr. Intensity stomps down to the ring.]

MA: Introducing first, from Yaaaaargh!, Wisconsin. Weighing in at 303 lbs… MR. INTENSITY!

[Mr. Intensity rams his head into one of the ring posts repeatedly, psyching himself up for the match ahead.]

NH: Did he have to do that? He’s intense, we get it, he doesn’t have to give himself brain damage just to prove that to us.

MS: Mr. Intensity is INTENSE! Nowhere but BRAWLERS ON A BUDGET would have its TALENT ramming their heads into RING posts!

[Intensity stumbles under the ropes as Eddie B. plays ‘Ring of Fire’ by Johnny Cash. The scrawny, teenage opponent strides out and charges for the ring.]

MA: And his opponent, running to the ring, from Bombay, Michigan… Kevin the Pyromaniac!

NH: What’s the hell is he doing?

MS: It appears as though Kevin is having some trouble climbing up into the ring.

SW: Well all those fumes from melting plastic will do that to you, he’s got the intelligence level of GBH.

KtP: Yur.

[The Generic Ref helps Kevin up and through the ropes before calling the bell.]


MS: This match is underway!

NH: Both lock up in a collar and elbow tie up, but Kevin is doing it wrong… and Intensity levels him with a headbutt. He lifts Kevin back up and body slams him.

MS: And what a body slam, Mr. Intensity is proving here this morning that his training has paid off.

SW: It was a body slam, you just pick the guy up and slam him down, even you could probably do it.

MS: But nobody in the HISTORY of sports entertainment can execute them quite like Mr. Intensity.

NH: Whatever, anyway, now Mr. Intensity is sliding out under the bottom rope and he’s looking under the ring. He’s climbing back in and he’s got a bunch of weapons with him.

SW: Yes! Weapons!

MS: This match is about to get HARDCORE!

SW: Mr. Intensity just shattered a pre-cut balsa wood 2x4 over Kevin’s head! There’s splinters and saw dust everywhere!

MI: Yeah!!! You want Intensity? I GOT YOUR INTENSITY RIGHT HERE!

NH: Kevin springs back up and pokes Intensity in the eyes. He takes the pain and roars out at as Kevin goes to body slam him… but he can’t lift him.

SW: He outweighs Kevin by about 200 lbs, what did you expect?

MS: Mr. Intensity hits an elbow across the back of Kevin’s neck, and another and another! He tucks him underneath his armpit and DDTs him to the unforgiving canvas below! COVER! One… two… kickout!

NH: Intensity goes to his big pile of weapons and has… a plastic sword.

MS: For the LOVE OF GODFREY! Kevin just kicked that sword right up into Mr. Intensity’s forehead before he could use it on him!

SW: Intensity just no-sells it and kicks Kevin out over the top rope. He has that rubber tipped barbed wire and is wrapping it around his own body. He takes a few steps back and then runs for the ropes, take it Shill.


NH: The ref begins to count as the two competitors just lay there.




MS: They’re going to be counted out, this one is going to be a draw!



KtP: Six? What happened to five?

Generic Ref: Oh, sorry. Five!

SW: Both wrestlers roll back in, and they’re quickly going for the weapons. Kevin has a rubber chicken and Mr. Intensity has a small, potted cactus… who the crap put those weapons there, Coma?

A far away voice: Poink!

MS: Both men swing for each other, their weapons crash together. They struggle for power with those deadly weapons. Parry, thrust, riposte… Mr. Intensity wallops the cactus over Kevin’s head!

NH: Mr. Intensity jumps up and hits a standing frog-splash, one… two… kickout at the last second. Kevin only just got out of that one in time.

SW: Kevin is blading with those cactus thorns!

MS: He’s busted wide open! He’s wearing the crimson mask!

NH: Intensity grabs hold of a steel chair and holds it up to his own head, he drops, and hits a falling headbutt with that chair used for extra impact.

MS: Only Mr. Intensity would try a move like that, and it paid off!

SW: Kevin is up, and wipes the blood from his eyes… I think he overdid it a little, there’s streams of the red stuff falling down onto the mat.

NH: Gross, Intensity goes for a tank of fuel and opens it up, Kevin tries to take it away from him but is kicked back down. Mr. Intensity covers himself in the fluid before lighting a match.

MS: It looks as though he is going for his move!


[Kevin spits fuel out at the match and creates a fireball, this sets Intensity ablaze as well as the Generic ref, who is just behind him.]

MS: The Generic Ref is ON FIRE! Call the FIRE Department for heavens sake! Get some hoses, some buckets of water, something! Help him Scotty!

SW: Why me?

MS: You have a glass of water there, use it!

[Mark snatches Scotty’s water and throws it at the ring. Of course from that distance it doesn’t even reach the ref, let alone extinguish him.]

SW: Nice going jackass, I was going to throw that on Heidi’s top later.

NH: Scotty! Damn, there’s no water to throw on you. Nice going Mark!

MS: There are men ON FIRE in that ring and all you can think of is yourselves!

SW: I can see the flame retardant suit sticking out from underneath his stripey shirt.

NH: Well I’ll at least get back to calling the match. The referee is down as Kevin kicks Intensity down. Kevin puts his elbow into the fire to set it alight before dropping it down onto Mr. Intensity’s chest.


NH: One… two… three, but the ref can’t make the count, he’s still smouldering on the ground.

MS: Oh my… who is THIS?

[A shady looking figure walks slowly down to the ring, putting a referee’s shirt over his own before sliding under the ropes.]

NH: A replacement referee it seems, he makes the count one… two… three! He calls for the bell!

MS: Kevin has done it, Kevin has defeated Mr. Intensity here on Sunday Morning Chloroform!

NH: The Generic Ref is back up on his feet, he looks confused and he calls for the bell himself. The Generic Ref is holding Mr. Intensity’s arm in the air whilst the Mystery Ref is holding up Kevin’s.

MS: What is happening, both referees dispute the winner of the match?

Generic Ref: Kevin is disqualified for setting an official alight, and so Mr. Intensity wins the match.

Mystery Ref: That’s crap, there’s no ‘no setting refs on fire’ rule, Kevin won!

GR: I overrule you, because… well, I don’t even know who you are!

MR: You can’t overrule me jackass!

KtP: Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Hold on a second guys, let me clear all of this up. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls children of all ages… I, Kevin the Pyromaniac, have an announcement to make. I have decided that the time has come that I should recruit the services of a manager/lackey. I thought long and hard about it. And when I was in Biology class last week I saw Bruce here…

[He points to the Mystery Ref.]

KtP: …stealing some punks lunch money. I laughed, a guy who gets held back each year and beats kids up for small change is definitely the sort of guy I want to be my lackey. I promised him fame, I promised him glory and I promised him wealth. And nothing brings these three things to people like Brawlers on a Budget. So, without further stuff, I introduce to you my new lackey… Bruce the Kleptomaniac!

NH: Bruce the Kleptomaniac?

SW: Hey, are you going to join them and be known as Heidi the Nymphomaniac?

NH: Shut up Scotty.

MS: Bruce the Kleptomaniac has a mic in his hand!

BtK: Thank you Kevin. Ya know, I knew it was time that I stopped stealing bicycles and teachers’ textbooks and moved on to the big leagues. So I came here to BOB with Kevin, I figured steel chairs and ring ropes could sell for a lot more cash. I also suggested to Kev that we should put all of our time into stealing and setting fires, and even do some pro-wrestling training on the side. So we have now dropped out of high school!

NH: Is that really something to be proud of?

SW: Pfft, them actually having gone to any school at all puts them higher than most of the BOB roster in education.

BtK: That place was dump, they didn’t teach anything about stealing. And just to prove that I am hardcore and xtreme enough to be here in BOB I will lead Kevin to victory at this years March Mayhem thing!

[He picks up one of the steel chairs that is in the ring and stuffs it under his shirt.]



MS: What have we just seen here? Kevin the Pyromaniac and Bruce the Kleptomaniac have formed an alliance like none we have ever seen here in BOB!

[As the two Maniacs leave the ring the Generic Ref shrugs his shoulders and calls for the bell to be rung for a third time.]

Generic Ref: This match is a draw due to extreme confusion.

SW: Well, that’s another one for the ‘what the hell happened?’ column.

In the school gymnasium, the Slayers-In-Training were hard at work. Punching bags. Lifting weights. Jumping on trampolines as Xamfir took photos. That's when Jessica Biel walked into the room.

"Hey everybody. I'm a new Slayer-In-Training."

"Jessica Biel? OH MY GOD! I loved you in Gear magazine. That photo of you in the sink was awesome."

"Kay. A little restraint, huh?" Michelle suggested.


"Well, thanks, Kay. I'm a big fan of yours too. So...what's everybody doing?"

"Getting ready for a big fight with a big evil," Kennedy said, stepping between Kay and Jessica.

"Cool. You mean, getting ready to lose, right?" Jessica said. "Because the Second, man. He is EVIL. He's gonna kick all your asses. Actually...he won't even have to do it, since the Uber Vampire Warrior will kill all of you easy enough. You all know how this works, right? One of you will be called once Sarah jobs. And believe me. She's done a lot of jobbing. God only knows how many other Slayers are running around out there. Why do you think you're all here? Because Sarah is a loser. Sure, she may have regained her powers through various means, but, it doesn't change the simple fact. She is going to lose. And you all are going to lose. Until there is nobody left to lose and only everybody loses."

"I'm gonna guess you failed your inspirational speech class?" Claire asked.

"Get away from them!" Sarah roared from behind Jessica.

Jessica turned around and smiled. "Or what? You'll kick my non-corporeal ass?"

"I said get away from them," Sarah said.

"What did Jessica do," Michelle asked.

"That's not Jessica."

Jessica laughed. "Yeah. It's true," she said with a laugh. "I'm not Jessica. I'm just the Second messing with you all," Biel said, continuing to laugh. "Except about the part where I kill you all. That part I'm quite serious about. And Sarah, honey. At main event time. There's gonna be a Texas main event massacre." With that bit of foreshadowing, the Second vanished.

[To the booking mobile! Er, meeting...]

TV: OK. We've got 13 people out of 64 thus far.

JS: And what a great group it is!

TV: Yeah, yeah. OK. Let's see who else we got here.

[Trey, buddy. Any chance I could get in?]

TV: Uh, yeah. I guess.

[Kickass. I'm going for two years in a row, beyotches! Two wins for the Second! And you will all bow down and lick my nuts.]

TV: Gee, maybe I shouldn't put you in then.

[Well, I wouldn't make YOU lick my nuts. I have the tiniest amount of respect for you, since you speak your mind like me.]

TV: Say, if you morph into Jessica Biels again, I'd fuck you.

[... I'll just be going now...]

TV: OK. Next up. My man Death HAS to be in this thing. I love that dude.

BB: He's the best. We love Death.

TV: What about Festering Death?

BB: Hmm. I haven't seen them in a while. And frankly, I'm glad. Those little smilies scared the heck outta me.

TV: What about those titles?

BB: Well, it'd cost too much to replace them, so whatever. We've already got more tag titles than we need anyhow. So, Festering Death can keep those belts.

LB: You just don't want to get stabbed and raped.

BB: Do you blame me?

LB: Not a bit.

TV: OK. Atomo's a champ, right. He should be in.

BB: And Dr. Azathoth.


BB: And Coma.

TV: Let's put the JEWS in. I love the Pussy.

BB: Yes, we all know you love the Pussy, Trey.

TV: I'm a big Pussy fan.

DB: So that's BILL, BVD, Albert DeSalvo, the Pussy and Mr. X.

TV: Yep. Sir Zeno can be in. Mr. Paradox. Meat Puppet. *Snort* Meat Puppet. BWAHAHAHA.

BB: Kamikazie Ken, Insano Mano, Mr. Intensity and Kevin the Pyromaniac could add some, uh, entertainment value.

TV: I guess...OK. Who else is left on the roster?

BB: That Pig Latino Heat guy.

TV: Yep. What a great gimmick. If I wasn't such a great character already and had to lower myself to actually having a gimmick, it might be something like that.

LB: Little Good and Xamfir. And the Uber Vampire Warrior.

BB: The Uber Vamp. He rules.

TV: OK. So added. Clinton. Nixon. LBJ. They're all in.

LB: LBJ can’t be in. He’s got some other gig that night.

TV: *Sigh* Fine. Then let’s put in Unit 5.

BB: The Washing Machine? Works for me. The You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out Of Your Frickin' Mind? Hardcore Title Belt is available.

TV: OK. Undietaker, J.C. Long. Mully, Sculder, Stinkbutt Nastyass, Graphic Flatulence--

JS: Aww...do they have to be in?

TV: Yes. Because fart jokes = buyrates. Now where was I? Those Damn Drudleys can be in it. As can douja and Jerry Curl Jones. And those damn sWo idiots. Me and the iAd will teach them who are the masters of screwjobs. Let all six of 'em in. The three of us will carve, them, up. *Tosses a toothpick at BigBOSS*.

BB: Very sanitary...

LB: Hey, we forgot Hardcore JJ.

TV: Damn. I hoped you'd forget him until AFTER this list was made. But fine. He can be in it, I guess. The Commentator, DMD, Small Tyke Drudley, The Dyslexic Avenger, The Snapmare Kid, Farmer Reb Brown, XXXtreme Machine. And that takes us to 62. We need two more idiots.



TV: Dude! You're destroying that fucking controller.


TV: You feel better now?

SL: I do actually.

TV: "Shaolin Attorney" Kwai Chiang Siegel will do it, no doubt. He's in. Now we just need one more person...

BB: Yes, one more person.

LB: One more person...

DB: Yep. One more.

JS: Person...

[All their heads turn toward the door.]

TV: Damn, I thought that'd work.

BB: Well, I'm stumped. Wait! No...Wait! No...Wait! How about...a Mystery Entrant!

TV: You mean, you'll see who we can get?

BB: Pretty much, yeah.

TV: Cool. Alright. Good meeting people.

BB: Don't we have to book Chloroform now?

TV: Ohhhh, right. Hmm. Well, let's have, uh, Uber Vampire Warrior vs. Sarah "The Jobber Slayer." That'd be fun. And it'd fit in with their planned out angle.

BB: Done and done. Let's post the list. Wait a second. Trey?

TV: Yeah?

BB: There are 64 people on here.

TV: There are?

BB: Yes.

TV: Oh. So...

BB: We have to bump somebody.

TV: Oh, gat damn! Give me that list. Here. Cross this idiot off. Now we got a list!

1. Trey Vincent
2. Seth Harker
3. Steve Studnuts
4. Steve Leary
5. Dustbuster Boy
6. John Skeet.
7. Mystery Entrant
8. Sarah "The Jobber Slayer"
9. Kay Fabe
10. Candy Cantaloupes
11. Nurse Heidi
12. Britney Smears
13. Christina Gaguilera
14. Detached Narrator
15. Death
16. Atomo The Living Robot
17. Coma
18. Dr. Azathoth
19. BILL
20. BVD
21. Albert DeSalvo
22. The Pussy
23. Mr. X
24. Sir Zeno
25. Mr. Paradox
26. Meat Puppet
27. Kevin The Pyromaniac
28. Kamikazie Ken
29. Insano Mano
30. Mr. Intensity
31. Igpay Atinolay Eathay
32. Little Good
33. Xamfir
34. Uber Vampire Warrior
35. Clinton
36. Nixon
37. Unit 5 (a washing machine)
38. The You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out Of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt
39. The Undietaker
40. J.C. Long
41. Mully
42. Sculder
43. Graphic Flatulence
44. Stinkbutt Nastyass
45. douja
46. Jerry Curl Jones
47. Rubba Ray Drudley (The Drudley Boyz)
48. D-Van Drudley (The Drudley Boyz)
49. Double Gay
50. Francis
51. Reeve Gordon
52. Hack Hogan
53. Kevin Slash
54. Triple-S
55. Hardcore JJ
56.The Commentator
57. DMD
58. Farmer Reb Brown
59. The Dyslexic Avenger
60. The Snapmare Kid
61. Small Tyke Drudley
62. XXXtreme Machine
63. "Shaolin Attorney" Kwai Chiang Siegel
64. Misty Waters

BJ: Alright folks, are you ready for a tuna-baker? Well, you better be, cuz this next here match here is gunna be one helluva you-know-what! I've taken over the announce booth, as the next match will of course be won by none-other than Uncle Vinny's protege, and who betta' to call the one two three than Good ol' Ben Joss? Of course! So let's get it on!

MA: HEY! That's MY line!

BJ: Aw, put a hole in it.

MA: ...

[The camera focuses on the greatest cage to ever make its presence felt on a wrestling stage... EVER. The monstrosity created by the man himself, the Antichrist of Sports Entertainment, the leader of the sport's most violent, destructive, evil, cold-hearted, and generously giving me a nice Benjamin for every kiss ass phrase I toss their way... he's Vince, By Gawd, Russooooooooooooooo!!! And he stands in that very ring! With a microphone in hand, it looks as though Uncle Vinny will be making the announcements.]

VR: Ladies, gentlemen, fat fucktards that don't have anything better to do than pay thirty bucks to watch big sweaty men toss each other around a ring all day, I have brought to you people some of the greatest storylines, characters, and matches this sport has EVER seen in its goddamn miserable existence. But none other than the fucking greatest goddamn best fucking damn match in the WORLD!!! My darling baby... the triple... tier... CAGE!!! Cage upon cage upon cage, shoddily constructed and ready to be ripped apart unmercifully in about the span of ten seconds!!! You will BOW before its grandeur!!! You shall witness my number one son tear apart that stupid son-of-a-bitch Zeno for DARING to step in our way of crushing this bastardly federation into the bits and pieces it was born to be tumbled down into! So, without further adieu, let's get this thing on a roll and BAKE IT!!! First, from somewhere, weight and height somewhere between 5 and 500 pounds, he's... uh.... Zeneord!!!

Fan in crowd: ZENO!!!

VR: Yeah, whatever...

[I'm being paid not to describe this guy's entrance. So I won't. Do you blame me? If so, than you are now a chicken.]

VR: Ok, he's in the damn ring, so now, let's get down to REAL business. Zparky's opponent, hailing from the greatest federation not booked by me, he was a former eleventeen time Ultimate Undisputed Heavyweight World Mega Hyper Super-Dee Duper Not-to-mention-that-be-i-ootiful-smile Did I Mention World Champion of the Entire World Including Europe CHAMPION!!! He weighs in at a manly 2 twelve, height? He stands on the very tip-top of the glass ceiling, looking down at every single loser staring back up, clawing their way up day by day, without any real hope of EVER reaching his- 5 feet 7 inches of glory! I tell ya, he's pure gold, even withOUT the title! But as soon as he meets those 58 losers in the middle of the four rings that March Mayhem 2004 consists of, he WILL hold BoB's precious strap, because he's a shoe-in here, he's a shoe-in there, he's a shoe-in in December, mark your calendars, it's happenin', he's walkin' out with the strap in 8 months, no doubt about, he's here, he's gay, get used to it, he's the heir apparent of the throne of the sWo that his cousin Shane so desperately clings to, he's the uncrowned champion, he's the real deal man of steel, he's all that, all this, all there, he's what you wish you were but never will be, he's the best there ever could be, he's the one, the only, the man the myth, the immortal proffesional wrestling legend... Reeve... Bryant... Tremonti... Gordoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo... *gasp*- ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo... *pant, pant*- oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon!!!~!

[Blast of pyro! The lights are off! The crowd is in a stunned silence! Can you feel that intensity in the air! This may be the semi-main event, but folks, this one oughta go straight at the top! This is a headliner babe, and it's all because of this man! The lights slowly return, flashing black and white, as a bit of static filters in here and there, and what's that on the speaker system? It's not the usual mix of "X Gonna Give it to Ya" and the screams and shouts trying to sell cheap merchandise at the souvenier stand...]

VR: Right you are, Detached. I thought I'd spruce up Reeve's entrance by giving him his own theme song, a little collaboration by DMX, Ozzy Osbourne, Ol' Dirty Bastard, the Crystal Method, and some other guy. It's called "Nowhere to Run", and I think it describes his opponents chances to a tee. Zelda's about to find out in about five seconds.


VR: What was that?

BJ: Well, I haven't spoken for about an hour now. Just letting everyone know I'm still here.

Crowd (monotone): Hi Ben.

[A shower of sparks pours over the stage, as Reeve emerges from the back... in his underwear, armbands with tassles attached, and paint covering his eyes... He looks a bit like...]


VR: Naw, ya fat dumbass.

BJ: Thank you sir, may I have another...

VR: See, this is another dimension I've added to Reeve. On big matches like tonight's, he dresses up as his idols in the biz. And as you can see, tonight, he's dressed as, who else? Scott Hall on one of his drinking binges. ... It was a joke. God, you people... Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to... the Ultimate WarReever!!!

BJ: Next world champion, I tells ya!

VR: Not now Joss, save that for AFTER he kicks Zygeraut's ass. So don't blink, or you'll miss your cue.

[WarReever slides into the ring, before bouncing off one set of ropes, the other, and shaking another one violently with his hands. The Homosexual Force stands front and center of the squared-circle, staring Zeno dead in the eyes. Zeno quakes with fear... or was that a bowel movement? Either way, he's shaking in his boots, as the hypnotic music plays, signaling the lowering of the cell... and as it surrounds these two men, one question lingers in the air...]

Zeno: Uhm... how am I supposed to win?

VR: Easy. You don't. Reeve is gonna pin your ass on the top of the cell, one two three. Of course, the roof of the third cage is also where you can pull out a victory... that is, if you leap off the cage and win by FORFEIT!

Zeno: Wait... wouldn't Reeve win if I forfeited?

VR: Hey, don't say Uncle Vinny doesn't have a heart. Now... let's get it on!


Marvin Gaye: Get it ooooooon, yeah, let's get it oooon, baby.

MA: Ai dios mio...

BJ: The WarReever circles his prey... Zeno eyeing him every step of the way... WarReever pounces in for a tie-up, but Zeno scoots out... WarReever bounces from foot to foot, a little bit on the edge... Zeno knows this match could do a good deal for his career... WarReever stares up at the heavens above, to the very top of the cage, as Zeno-


BJ: Who in tarnations is you?

Paul Heyman: Hey, I'm Paul Heyman. I was fired a couple of days ago, and I've applied for a job here as your color analyyst.

BJ: ... You mean I gotta do business with... you? ... Uh... exactly where were you fired from?

Heyman: ... A soda factory, Joss, a soda factory. Just call the match.

BJ: Well, as ya said, Zeno hit WarReever with the-


BJ: -just as the Homosexual Force was staring at the ceiling plaster. And now... he's STILL staring at the ceiling plaster, but not by his own will.

Heyman: You know Joss, back when I owned ECDub-


Heyman: Huh? What did I miss?

BJ: Nothing. Just trying to get you to shut up. And there goes Zeno with an elbow drop to the spinal columnular testocutone right porthotemues.

Heyman: Looks like his nads to me, Ben.


Heyman: ...

BJ: Zeno picks up WarReever, slings him into the ropes, vile clothesline from hades!!! Zeno pulls WarReever back up, but receives a vile lowblow for his efforts. WarReever hooks the head and drops Zeno's jaw to the knee with a vile chinbreaker. WarReever bounces off one set of ropes, the other, Zeno picks himself up, TWISTING MONKEY SOMERSAULT PLANCHA DE FACTO!!!

Heyman: Big boot by WarReever.


Heyman: I bet.

BJ: Zeno down like a sack of discount pancake mix, and the WarReever is heading to the upscale district!!!

Heyman: Don't you mean highrise? God, I worked for ECDub for like, ten years, and never watched a single episode of that OTHER federation, yet I have JR's character down pat, and you're all like, der, WarReever is heading to the downtown district, derrrr-


Heyman: ... I'm moving over.... here.

BJ: WarReever lifts both fists into the air... soars off the turnbuckle, and BOOMSHAKALAKA, there goes the neighborhood!

Heyman: Double flying legdrop by WarReever.

BJ: Are you on Zeus today or something?

Heyman: Naw, it's just that about the only move I get worked up over is the- GORE! GORE! GORE!!!! Other than that... I'm pretty much dead.

BJ: I see... The Homosexual Force rises, followed closely by Sir Zeno... both men hold their balance via the ropes... WarReever pulls himself back on the rope... before slingshotting himself forward, running right into Zeno... BUT ZENO MOVES! ZENO MOVES! BY GAWD, ZENO MOVES!!! WarReever tumbles over the top rope, and Zeno has seized the day!

Heyman: I didn't think the day could be seized only two minutes into the semi-main event...

BJ: Well, somehow, someway, Zeno's reached right deep down inside of himself and pulled out something to tackle the Homosexual Force!

Heyman: Can you PLEASE stop calling Reeve the Homosexual Force. Once was funny, twice was tolerable, but that after that it just becomes redundant. Try something like-


Heyman: Yeah, that'll work.


Heyman: Hey man, you need to take a chill pill. Even I don't have that hoarse of a voice, and I scream a helluva lot more than that. What, with Goldberg, Edge, and Rhyno all on one show nowadays...

BJ: Ok, you can stay. But don't back talk me, kid. I'm an announce table champion. Not to mention WCWF British champion. So you show me some respect.

Heyman: Sure, sure. Zeno heads to the outside, reaches underneath the ring, and pulls out a... TABLE!!! And the fans are already chanting! Ah, this brings me back to the good ol' days of-

BJ: Heyman...

Heyman: Sorry. Where was I...

BJ: Zeno leans the table against the ring post, and pulls WarReever to his feet, before laying him up against the table... Zeno turns his gaze to the steel mesh... what in the world is this man plotting?! He begins to place both hands on the cage... and...

Heyman: HE'S CLIMBING!!! Zeno's climbing the cage!!!

BJ: By Gawd, that he is! Zeno slowly makes his ascent up the steel... making footholes out of the mesh... before... he rests at the top... staring down at The Ultimate WarReever, leaning against the wood... he wouldn't... he couldn't...

Heyman: HE DID!!! Zeno just leaped of the cage wall, and- Oooooo, that's NOT good for Zeno...

BJ: BY GAWD!!! WarReever rolled out of the way, and Zeno crashed through the damn table!!! HE'S DEAD!!! BY GAWD, HE- IS- DEAD!!!

Heyman: No, actually...


Heyman: Hey, you don't have to make EVERYTHING look real.

BJ: Well, let me ask you THIS. How do you learn to fall off a twenty foot cell, through a table?

Heyman: Well, I dunno Ben, but I'd say Zeno did a pretty good job of it, as he's already back on his feet, trading rights with Reeve.

BJ: ...

Heyman: Reeve knees Zeno in the gut, and rattles his brain up against the mesh. Reeve then grabs him by the hair, spins him around, and plants him with a ddt right on the outside mat. Reeve climbs the mesh... up... up... up... up... till he reaches the ceiling... and he's STILL climbing! Hanging by the ceiling, Reeve slowly makes his way toward the center of the ceiling, so as to climb through that hole right smack dab in the middle... he's almost there... until-

BJ: BY GAWD!!! Zeno just threw his shoe at WarReever, and hit him in the nose!!! WarReever plummets through the air... AND FALLS RIGHT THROUGH THE GAWDDAM RING!!!!

Heyman: Oh... my... God... WarReever litterally fell through the canvas...

BJ: And as Gawd as my witness, he may very well be broken in-

Heyman: -half, yeah, yeah, yeah, we've all heard it a million times before Ben, you don't have to remind us.

BJ: ... Goos-fra-ba, goos-fra-ba, goos-fra-ba...

Heyman: Zeno falls to his knees from that desperation maneuvre... before collapsing over the hole made by Reeve... and the ref lowers for the count: 1-2-

BJ: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?! The count can only be made on the top cell!!! What the hell is that referee doing?!

Heyman: -3!!! Zeno has defeated the Ultimate WarReever! And the match didn't even leave the first tier!!!

MA: Haha! See, Russo NEVER mentioned where Zeno could make the pinfall, and thus, as according to "The Rule of Pinfalls During Triple Tier Matches at 3a.m. on Cable Networks that Need to Hurry Shit Up for the Morning Episode of the Critic", those pinfalls stips that are not mentioned pre-match by Vince Russo are thereby viable ANYWHERE. Including BELOW the ring! So, your winner, Sir... Zenooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! Choke on THAT, Russo!

BJ: Grrr... this is NOT the last of it! Zeno shall have his comeupance! Until then... I hear Mean Gene's is having a sell on week-old steak. All those vittles needs is a bit of BJ's famous Ber-B-Cue sauce! And maybe a bit of my new anti-bacterial sauce. It's E.Colirific!

Paul: Seeya, Ben.

BJ: Later, spawn of satan.

[BJ leaves the announce position, as the medics quickly rush down to remove Reeve from the hole in the mat... The cage rises, and one question is left wafting in the air...]

[Who's gonna fix that hole? Not me...]

Scotty Whatbody: Are ya sure about that, Detached?


Scotty: Not even for... a cookie?

[Mmm... cookie... it's done. Let's have ourselves a main event!]

In the Detached Narrator's torture chamber, a.k.a., a classroom, Little Good was still tied to a wall.

"Take them all," Jessica Biel instructed the Uber Vampire Warrior. "Except for Sarah. Leave her alive so she can keep having chances to defeat me, most likely in a giant final battle on a pay-per-view. Now go!" As Uber Vamp headed out to the hallway, Jessica then morphed into Sarah "The Jobber Slayer." She noticed Little Good mumbling something.

"She will come. She will come. She will come," Little Good repeated to himself.

"Why would I come for you? I never came with you before. That's right, LG, I was FAKING! MWAHAHAHAHA."

Meanwhile...Michelle was peeking out the doorway. "There are more of them now. Yep. All the presidential lookalikes from that reality spoof are here now. And Mike Monroe."

"What are they doing?" Jeannie asked.

"Making sure we don't go anywhere," Sarah said. "But we aren't gonna play by the rules of the script. So here's what we're gonna do..."

[Two minutes later.]

Everybody who had been in the Shaggy Gang's locker room charged out. They charged past some and into others. And a big brawl was on in the hallways. Bodies went flying as the Shaggy crew went on the attack, hitting the presidential potentials with various objects. Sarah has a big globe and whacks Pierce in the leg, making him go poof. Xamfir and Kay Fabe combined to put one of Taylor’s legs into a locker and then slam the door shut. And he went poof. And just when they thought they were free and clear of danger and running around the corner. there he stood.

The Uber Vampire Warrior.

"Hmm hmm hmm hmm," he chuckled, licking his pointy chompers.

"Everybody run!" Sarah demanded.

"I know a place we'll be safe," Xamfir said. "Come on!" They obeyed, heading towards....the ring.

Sarah turned and faced the Uber Vampire Warrior.

"So, we meet again." Sarah ran toward him and slapped him on the arm. "Tag! You're it!" She then began running in the direction opposite Xamfir had taken the rest of the Gang. Sarah was running hard. Then she happened to look back and noticed the Uber Vampire Warrior wasn't chasing her. In fact, he was gone.

"Shoot!" Sarah said.

[Out to the ring.]

Xamfir: Come on. We'll be safe out here.

Inutu: I think our definition of safe is quite different. I'm using Webster's Dictionary and you must be using Manson's Dictionary.

Claire: Forget that. Why did we just go into script mode?

Xamfir: I dunno. Some weird rule about how matches have to be in script form in BOB.

Claire: But segments can be in novel? Isn't that confusing to the reader?

Xamfir: I would imagine so.

Claire: What EVER.

Kara: Uh, Xamfir. Did by 'safe' you mean 'about to get killed to death'?

Xamfir: No, why?

Masked Announcer: The following is the main event street fight. Introducing first. From HELL! The Uber Vampire Warrior!

Xamfir: Ahh. Yep. We're definitely in match mode now.

[Claire, Michelle, Kara, Wilma, Kennedy, Inutu, Kay, Jeannie and Xamfir all get on the side of the ring opposite the 'entryway'. Which is just a door. Because this is BOB: Low Budget Wrestling!]

Xamfir: Spread out. Get a front row seat. Some popcorn if you're hungry. There's plenty of seats, as you all can see...

[They all climb over the Flimsy Guardrail and take seats around ringside.]

MA: And his opponent. From Cloudydale. Sarah "The Jobber Slayer"!

Claire: Did she overdose on stupidity?

Kay: Just be quiet and watch. It's main event time.

Sarah: I bet this looks like the sexiest all you can eat buffet ever, doesn't it, Ubey? They're trapped in here, terrified. Waiting to be hurt and defeated. They're afraid of you. Your puffy shirt. Your fangs. Your mullet. But not me. You may be the jobber that fashion-time forgot, but I know a thing or two about jobbers. They fear me. Because nobody likes getting beaten up by a girl. And now, you're gonna find out why jobbers flee in terror when they see me coming."

Styles: Beat it Shill. OH MY GOD! There is the BELL! I'm Styles, alongside Nurse Heidi and Scotty Whatbody in what promises to be a BLOODBATH! It's a Texas Main Event Massacre match! And it's gonna get EXTREME!

Michelle: You planned this, didn't you?

Kay: Yep. I'm a naughty girl. Wanna spank me?

Styles: The Uber Vamp charges at Sarah as she gets in the ring. She hits a kick. A spin kick. A punch. A punch. A side kick. A spinning punch. OH MY GOD! Uber Vamp just hit a huge blow that sends Sarah flying into the turnbuckles. Uber Vamp charges in, FEET TO THE FACE.

SW: Styles, I have to start getting in some sex jokes here. It's my contract.

NH: It's nice to have a commentator excited by the main event for a change.

SW: Have you looked at my pants? I'm excited. Sarah's in it. Woohoo!

NH: And there's your awful sex joke.

Styles: Uber Vamp with a punch. Sarah falls to the ground, much like Scotty Whatbody after getting off the bar stool after a night of drinking.

SW: Hey, I resemble that remark.

Styles: OH MY GOD! Uber Vamp lifts Sarah up over his head! THROWN INTO THE CROWD! OH MY GOD THAT WAS EXTREME!

SW: Talk about a lucky landing. She landed on Kennedy. Why can't good things like that ever fall into MY lap? Huh? Huh?

[Cut to Trey Vincent.]

TV: Hey! That's my catchphrase, Whatbody! That's it. I'm replacing you on the next Chloroform!


TV: That's copyrighted too, by that other fed. Oh, you're in SO much trouble.

SW: ... DAMN!


Styles: Sarah grabs Kennedy's seat.

SW: Woohoo!

Styles: Settle down. Her steel chair.

SW: I'd grab her seat too!

Styles: Sarah charges!


Crowd: OHHHHH!

Styles: OH MY GOD! What a CHAIRSHOT!

NH: Uber Vamp is laughing! That guy is messed up. Uh-oh. Uber Vamp's been busted open! Now where's he going? He just stole a cup of beer from that fan. He dumps the beer out. And now Uber Vamp is letting his own blood drip into the cup. This is disgusting!

SW: Gee, Heidi, maybe you could sell him your blood when it's your time of the month. Plus you'd save on tampons...

NH: I could use some extra cash...

Styles: ICK! That's DISGUSTING!

NH: Not as disgusting as BOB's pay.

SW: He worked in the WWE. He could afford it.

Styles: Sarah goes under the ring. She's got a pipe. She lights the pipe and takes an inhale. She blows smoke into the Uber Vamp's eyes!

NH: Wow, this sure is brutal.

SW: It's the Blow Job! She hasn't used that move in years!

NH: Ugh. You are such a pig.

Styles: Actually, he's right this time. Sarah actually calls that move the Blow Job. With the blowing of the smoke, and the usual ensuing jobbing it causes due to the blindness...

NH: Oh...well, you're still a pig, Scotty.

SW: And you're still a bitch, Heidi.

Styles: Sarah moves in to bust a knee cap, but Uber Vamp knees her in the face. OH MY GOD! He just threw her into the Flimsy Guardrail which collapses! He grabs her and tosses her into the steel post.

NH: Uber Vamp wipes some blood from his brow and now licks his hand.

SW: Got blood?

Styles: He's back on the attack! Come on Sarah! He punches her repeatedly. He's Ike Turnering the hell out of Sarah! He picks her up and tosses her against the side of the ring!

SW: You think Sarah would go out with me if she's in a wheelchair?

Styles: Would you stop it?

SW: No.

Styles: Sarah found something under the ring. It's a concrete block! She picks it up, but Uber Vamp punches the block and it breaks into a thousand pieces!

SW: Ah, that reminds me. This morning's episode of Chloroform is brought to you by E-Z Break Cinder Blocks. E-Z Break. The most trusted name in non-hurty weaponry. Non-hurty?

NH: Coma must be involved with the company.

Styles: OH MY GOD! Sarah is thrown back into the ring! The Uber Vamp follows in. She crawls to the corner and starts climbing, trying to get away. But Uber Vamp grabs her by the throat!

Inutu: He's killing her!

Wilma: Should we help?

Kay: Wait!

Sarah: Wait?

Styles: HOODANCONRANA BY SARAH OVER THE TOP ROPE! OH MY GOD! Both competitors are on the floor. Sarah heads under the ring. She pulls out a 2x4. Uber Vamp punches Sarah, but Sarah counters with a board shot to the head! Uber Vamp is down. And Sarah is pounding the living hell out of the Uber Vamp! Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Uber Vamp cannot defend this amazing assault by Sarah.

NH: Yep. He's got fruit punch mouth.


SW: I'm sure that's rubber-tipped. And speaking of rubber tips...

NH: Do NOT even go there.


NH: The arm goes up! And comes down! The arm goes up a second time! And down.


MA: The winner of the match. Sarah "The Jobber Slayer"!

STJS: You see that? He lost. Because I'm Sarah. Anybody can be defeated. Especially if they're evil. Here endeth the lesson. And the show. Now I'm gonna go rescue Little Good. Bye!"

© 2004 BOB Wrestling. Oh yeah, buy our pay-per-view!

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