Brawlers On A Budget

>> home
>> upcoming shows
show archives
> 2009
> 2008
> 2007
> 2006
> 2004
> 2003
> 2002
> 2001
> 2000
> 1999
>> forums
>> roster
>> title history
>> rules
>> application
>> eWrestling wiki
>> credit
>> links

Sunday Morning Chloroform Logo

Meet The Bad News Bears Of Sports Entertainment!

[We have an opening montage? The hell? Flickerstick's "Chloroform The One You Love" is the track to various BOB highlights, featuring all the current sub-stars and the greatest moments *coughcough* in BOB history. I would list some of those highlights, but that would mean looking up what show they were on for reference and that's just all too much work. I'd rather skim over that part and tell you we're on tape in Grasshopper Junction, Arizona. Oh, also, you may fuck off and die. Thanks. As we penetrate the Ex-Lax Arena, "Temptation Waits" by Garbage is already playing, thus brining out THE ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer."]

Styles: Hello everyone, and welcome to Brawlers On a Budget's Sunday Morning Chloroform! I'm Styles, along with Scotty Whatbody and Nurse Heidi.

NH: Last week, Death won the right to face Sarah at Grudge Match A-Go-Go.

SW: He has Steve Studnuts to thank for that and WHAT is up with that ugly shirt she's wearing?

Styles: Sarah is sporting a new T-shirt. The Champ Is Her. Available in the Crap Zone.

SW: Fitting spot for it. That catchphrase will never get over.

NH: All I hope is she doesn't say 'yo' for the next five minutes.

SW: I wouldn't mind if she stripped for the next hour though. Sarah is so hot.

STJS: What's up Grasshopper Junction!

[The crowd gives an apathetic response.]

STJS: Let's make some noise up in here!

[A little bit louder reaction. From the crickets, anyway. Man, I haven't seen a crowd this dead since the last WWE show. Hiyo!]

STJS: Alright. Here's the thing. I'm told that if I can make it 'til December, I get the treat of facing Death in Montreal at Grudge Match A-Go-Go. Boy, what a Christmas present for me.

SW: Isn't she Jewish?

NH: Scotty!

STJS: Doesn't matter. Death is no scarier than walking into Styles' basement without knocking.

SW: Styles?

NH: Something you care to share with us?

Styles: ...

STJS: I will never look at fruit the same way again.


Styles: ...

STJS: But Death is just the start. The whole roster wants to take this title from me. But I look so good with gold. I should be showered with gold...and that sentence just went the wrong way on the highway. But I'm from the mean streets of Cloudydale. I'm an O.S. Original. Slayer. This is Shaggy Gang. You don't start nothing, there won't be nothing, but if you want some....come get some! You don't like me? Bite me! (Singing) Shaggy Gang ain't nuthin' to mess with. Shaggy Gang ain't nuthin' to mess with.

["Enter Kevin" interrupts this disturbing turn in Sarah's promo. And here comes Kevin the Pyromaniac with Bruce the Kleptomaniac.]

NH: Poor Sarah. She's stealing catchphrases from Rick Steiner of all people?

Styles: Kevin is out here.

SW: He's probably here to set the crowd on fire, so for once we can say, the crowd is on fire!

NH: Bruce steals the mic from Michelle. Kevin and Bruce are in the ring.

KtP: You know what you have in common with all the people here in Grasshopper Junction? You fear PYROMANIA! Last week your boyfriend stole a match from me! So now it's time for payback.

StJS: Hold on. First off, Little Good and me are SO over.

KtP: Oh really? Then why did he help you win the title? And sing about you? I am undefeated in 2005!

StJS: Um, hello? Reality calling. You just got pinned last week.

KtP: The idiots here are idiots! And so are you. Idiot. You big idiot. You're the idiot, IDIOT!

StJS: Kevin, I think I see your problem. So why don't you go in the back and let Bruce steal your virginity.


Styles: Oh my God.

NH: Oh she just went there! And Kevin looks pissed.

SW: He always looks like that. How can you tell the difference?


Btk: Whaaa?

[Go steal Sarah's shirt. You know you want to. Steal it! Steal it!]

StJS: So here's the deal, Kevin. You are gonna leave here to "Exit Kevin" and you'll keep both of your kneecaps in tact. Kay?

NH: What is Bruce doing?

SW: Oh baby! He just pulled off her shirt! And now he's running for his life. Humina humina humina!

StJS: That's it. This means war. Get ready to die, Kevin.

KtP: What did I do?

["Taking Care of Business" plays. BigBOSS steps out and collides head to head with Bruce in the entryway. BigBOSS shakes his head and gets up, but Bruce isn't moving.]

BigB: Hello Grasshopper Junction!

Crowd: Hi!

BigB: How is everybody?

Crowd: Eh. How are you?

BigB: Not bad. So, Sarah. I understand you want to fight Kevin tonight. But you need to understand this is still MY show. Since you've defied my authority, I need to punish you. So, you must fight Kevin The Pyromaniac! This morning. In that ring. In the main event. No. Right BEFORE the main event.

StJS: So...what you're saying is that because I demanded a shot at Kevin that you're punishing me by giving it to me?

BigB: Precisely.

StJS: Your logic does not even remotely resemble our Earth logic.

BigB: And if you win, you will face Death at Grudge Match A-Go-Go!

StJS: Whatever.

[We head backstage. Trey Vincent enters the Drudley Boyz room.]

TV: Rubba.


TV: I'm your boss, asshole. That's Mr. Motherfucking Fuck to you. I just wanted you to know that I'm marrying Michelle tonight. And if you come in trying to woo her away from me, you're so fired.


TV: Just find some other chick to put under your Drudley spell. Which I suspect has roofies as a major ingredient.


TV: Try Britney or Christina. They're both porn stars. They're used to, uh, curvacious guys banging them in naughty places.


TV: Great. As your reward, you and D-Van can have a match for the tag belts at Grudge Match A-Go-Go. You pick the stipulation.

D-Van: Oh-ho-ho! TESTIFAH!

TV: Now, where's XXXtreme Machine?

[Back to the ring.]

BigBOSS: Yes, I'm still here. Now. Last week, Kamikazie Ken won a shot at the Swiss Army Belt. This week, Ken and Sir Zeno will do battle for that very belt. So Zeno, why don't you come out here and get ready to fight Ken! Yes, that's right, Sir Zeno is back from the dead and ready to defend that belt. And Michelle? You're getting married? What the heck?

[Michelle shrugs.]

BigB: Don't you need to be in a wedding dress?

Michelle: No. Trey said what I have on is fine. That and the marriage will probably only last a year, so why make a big deal out of it.

BigB: He is quite the charmer.

Michelle: My knight in armor.

["Narayan" plays. Here comes Sir Zeno.]

Michelle: Introducing first. The Swiss Army Belt champion, Sir Zeno!

NH: Why is he coming out first?

Styles: I think we're about to find out. And get extreme!

SW: With fruit?

Styles: *Ahem*

SZ: OK. Let's get this straight. I pinned Sarah to win this title. Where's MY ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS shot?

BigB: I'd like to congratulate you for holding that title as long as you have. You are truly a credit to this company and this business. But tonight, you must face a mystery opponent!

SZ: Huh? I thought I was facing—

BigB: That's right. A mystery opponent.

SZ: Why? Because he wears a mask? Because that's the only mystery about Ken. That, and why he is able to still walk.

BigB: So...without any further delay, here is your mystery opponent!


Styles: OHMYGOD! Kamikazie Ken just fell from the rafters onto Sir Zeno with the most EXTREME cross body block I've ever seen! ONE! TWO! NOOO! Zeno kicks out!

NH: Zeno's gotta get the ring rust out after being dead.

Styles: Ken rolls out to the floor and now he's looking under the ring for something.

SW: He probably won't find much. Since the budget cuts, we haven't had any plunder under there. Which is sad, because I like seeing all these idiots bleed and break their bodies for my amusement.

NH: What's that noise?

SW: I don't know, but it's awful.

Styles: OH MY GOD! Ken just pulled out a table wrapped in barbed wire, light bulbs, piranhas, cactus, Molotov cocktails and...OH MY GOD! Ken has gotten TOO extreme for BOB! There's a boombox on that table playing Gwen Stefani's debut CD!

SW: That's sick!

NH: I don't care about him doing this to Zeno, but this is hurting US now!

Styles: Ken angles the table in the corner and goes for Zeno. Oh no! Zeno goes for the ride NO! Zeno reverses!


Styles: KEN IS DEAD! DEAD I TELLS YA! Zeno pulls him out from the debris, leaving shreds of flesh and Ken's outfit on the barbed wire and cactus. One. Two. Three. HEGOTHIM!

Michelle: The winner of the match. Sir Zeno!

SW: Well, at least he destroyed that CD.

[Backstage, Trey Vincent is tucking in his Frito-Trey T-shirt (also available in the Crap Zone). He turns around to reveal the back of the shirt that reads "All You Can Eat."]

BigB: So, this is how you're getting married? She's in Frederick's of Hollywood lingerie, and you're in that?

TV: What? I'm tucking my shirt in! If that isn't love, what is?

[Elsewhere backstage...]

The Commentator: By gawd, Ken, congratulations on beating Sir Zeno and winning the Swiss Army Belt, champ!

[Ken looks at TC for a minute, then looks around, confused.]

TC: What was the secret that made you three seconds better than Sir Zeno?

KK: You did see the match, right?

TC: It was a hellacious roller coaster ride that crashed quicker than a hiccup!

[Ken shakes his head in disgust and walks away, still smoldering.]

TC: Thanks, CHAMP!

SW: Damn, I think TC got one of the Internet-only scripts.

NH: Since when do we have time to write multiple scripts?

Styles: I think since Trey likes to mess around with people's lives. He gets a kick out of it.

SW: Heh, so do I! Did you see the look on Ken's face?

NH: No. He did have a mask on.

SW: Yeah, but it was priceless!

["Highway to Hell" begins playing.]

Styles: Well, here comes Rubba Ray Drudley, but I don't know why. They're not on my format.

NH: Rubba is driving down in an electric wheelchair for some reason.

SW: He's trying to be the new Larry Flynt, I guess.

Styles: Well, he's not allowed to hit on Michelle tonight, or else, he's FIRED!

SW: Is that really a bad thing?

NH: Maybe we should ask Mike Monroe?

SW: BWAHAHAHA. I fired his ass!


["Harrrdcore" kicks on and here comes Britney, stomping to the ring.]

BS: You know what? You make me so, like, hot and stuff. So, let me just get down on my knees and show you what you mean to me.

SW: Whoa! Rubba's gotta write a book! I got her topless once, but...

NH: Oh! Punch to the nether regions by Britney.

SW: Or not...

Styles: And here we go.

SW: With what?

Styles: A match!

SW: Ha! I knew this was on your format.

NH: You're so busted, Styles.

Styles: Britney pulls Rubba up by the ears. But Rubba with an eye rake. He shoves her to the corner.


Styles: What a chop! And look at her! She's smiling! She wants him to do it again!


SW: Oh baby! I heard she likes to get slapped. I just thought it was on the ass!


[Britney grabs her breasts as if she's in total ecstasy.]

Styles: Rubba spins her around.


SW: Oh baby! Open handed ass chop! WOOHOO!





Styles: Rubba whips Britney into the opposite corner. Here comes Rubba! OH! He just ran into her foot, right at crotch level! Rubba collapses into the corner. And she isn't!

SW: Oh yeah! Here comes the bronco buster! WOOOOHOOOOO!

NH: Man, she's teasing him and then hurting him. I love this girl!

SW: Enough to have sex with her on camera?

NH: Sorry, Scotty. It isn't gonna happen, give up the dream.

SW: No wonder Trey isn't marrying you.

Styles: But hold on! Rubba grabs hold of Britney. Oh NO! He's up on his feet! Rubba, with an amazing counter, now has Britney set up for the Rubba Bomb!

[Several seconds pass.]

NH: Yep. He sure does. What a sleaze.

SW: What? He's just holding her up so long so all the blood with rush to her, uh, you know. To make ultimate impact when she lands.

Styles: Riiiight.

SW: It's no different than the delayed suplex crap you always go on about. You know, when you're like, "all the blood is rushing to his brain," or "he's making him think about it." So what? It's supposed to hurt the back, not the head. This is no different.

NH: He's probably just trying to get a whiff.

SW: Heidi! That's...probably true. But I'm shocked YOU said it and not me.


Styles: Christina Gaguilera just blasted Rubba with a chair shot!

*Bell sound effect*

Styles: And we've got a DQ.

NH: Britney and Christina whip Rubba into the ropes. And...try to lift him up for something, but it seems they just hurt their backs trying.

Styles: Clothesline! Rubba takes the Hardcore Divas down. And here come the rest of the Drudleyz in attendance. Small Tyke is in with D-Van. Grampa Drudley is here. that Bennifer Drudley? The lone sister of the clan?

SW: That's a woman?

Styles: I think so. The Drudleyz are stomping and smashing the Divas. Hold on! It's the Exploding Holy Grail! And...OH MY GOD! They've got monkeys! The monkeys are attacking the Drudleyz!

SW: Why are they dressed in SWAT gear?

Styles: I stopped asking silly questions like that when it comes to Coma.

NH: Oh no! Look out! It's the Distorted Icons! Leary is pummeling Hallucination Boy with a microphone stand and Skeeter is chasing Coma with a fly swatter.

Styles: All HELL has broken loose.

SW: If anybody starts flinging poo, I'm out of here.

[Backstage, Death is standing by with The Commentator.]

TC: Hello again folks. I am joined by Death. And Death, last week you won the right to face the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS at Grudge Match A-Go-Go. How does that make you feel?

Death: You may not quite be as good as taking out a school bus full of children, but perhaps winning will be. You see, Sarah is scum. And I've been screwed by BigBOSS since I got here. I deserve that belt. And Sarah, you're a piece of crap that I'm gonna flush down the toilet. If you replace the letter S with the letter B, the letter A with the letter I, the letter R with the letter T and the letter A with the letter C, and the letter H, well, you leave that the same, actually. THAT is what I think of Sarah, that scum.

TC: Birth?

Death: Shut up, TC, you scum. You know, I was talking to my good friend Johnny Carson the other day.

TC: Johnny Carson? In Heaven?

Death: BWAHAHAHAHA! Good one. I'm sure even HE will get a kick out of that one. But anyway. He said to me, there's only one way to the top of any business.

TC: And what's that?

Death: Kiss his ass! The egotistical bastard. He's DEAD. So then I asked my other good friend, Elvis, and he said, steal the black man's music. But that won't help me either. Dead people suck. But, third time's the charm, right? Jimmy Morrison. He tells me to ride the snake. And then to take a ride on the blue bus. He's still high and he's been dead for forty years! So, what I've learned is this. Dead celebrities are useless when you want advice about becoming a world champion.

TC: Have you spoke to God about this?

Death: I tried. He still thinks me being in BOB is stupid. But I'm still his hitman. Speaking of which, I've got some killing to get to elsewhere...

douja: hold on there you cracka ass cracka! you bitch, you cost me da title and you just need to know dat your shot is gonna go up in smoke. I took out unit 5 og style dogg so maybe next I need to drop a dookie on your skull.

Death: Uh-huh...Look. Here's $10. Go buy yourself some weed and leave me alone.

douja: aiit. but dis ain't over dogg. whiteys gonna pay for holding down da black man.

Death: Hey, douja. You know what? We're all white. Even you.

douja: say what?

Death: That's right. After I kill you and your muscle and flesh and tissue rot away, all that will be left are your white bones. You think about that when you're smoking.

[Death walks off camera.]

douja: damn!

[Cut to BigBOSSes office.]

Nic Flare: Big, WOOOOOOOOBYGOD, BOSS! It's the Nature Dude, Nic Flare, fat boy! And tonight, after I take your old lady for a ride on CyberSpace Mountain, I want to have a match, WOOOOOO WOOOOOO WOOOOOOO by god! With Atomo WOOOOBYGOD The Living Robot. Fat boy! Woooooo!

BigB: First off, that ride is too scary for Mrs. Behave. Second of all, Trey has you booked as tagging with Atomo against Rob Van Spam and Alan Qaida.


[Flare drops his pants, backs up and drops a knee on them.]

BigB: Please, put your pants back on, Nic.

[Flare picks up his pants and delivers a knife edge chop.]

NF: WOOOOO! WOOOO! WOOO! That's why you're the booker! WOOOO! Shake my hand, fat boy! WOOOO!

[Flare, thankfully, leaves.]

BigB: Am I getting fat?

[LilBOSS shrugs and waddles away. We head back to the ring. "Pussy Liquor" is playing. XXXtreme Machine is in the ring, standing behind a podium.]

NH: Well, it's time for a wedding. Why the hell would Trey marry Michelle?

SW: A little jealous? Hmmm? Don't understand why he wouldn't marry you? Hmmmm? A little confused what an 18-year-old has that you don't? Hmmm? Maybe wondering if you're not as hot as you used to be? Hmmm? Mad that you weren't good enough for Trey? Hmmm?

Styles: Enough, Scotty. Well, the bride and the groom are out here.

NH: Trey Vincent would be the only guy in history to demand to come out AFTER the bride. What an ego!

SW: Trey tucked his T-shirt in, that's how special this is to him.

Styles: Tons of catcalls echoing throughout the arena. Most of them coming from my superior, Scotty Whatbody.

SW: *Whistles*

NH: XXXtreme Machine is about to preside over his second marriage. The first was between ALF and a porn star, if memory serves correct.

XM: were here gathrd 2day 2 joyn the vp n this btch n weslock so tey cqn fuk e chothr wenevr th3y wnt. Ths is a truly buttifu; day if nebone objecs 2 th8s weeding plese say now or fover shout up.

[The arena is silent.]

NH: He even stole the script for this wedding? Argh!

XM: n no 2 spek is pijin

[Offspring's "Come Out And Play" plays. And here is the trouble soul himself, Pigeon.]

P: I'm out here to recite some poetry for this pathetic excuse for an occasion. This poem is entitled "What About Me?"
Trey is marrying a girl of 18 years
He loves brunettes like he loves beers
But you better not divorce her too quick
Or Sarah will probably cut off your dick
Michelle, I thought you actually had taste
So tell me, why are you marrying this waste?
And don't ask me for help when your privates are itchin'
What about me? What about Pigeon?

SW: That was so beautiful.

NH: It sounded like he wrote that in five minutes.

SW: Well, the whole show took about an hour to write. That's a lot of time, considering.

TV: Give me the mic. Michelle, honey, you are without a doubt the hottest women I've dated in the last year or so. And you look way sexier than Heidi does in a nurse outfit.

NH: You son of a bitch!

TV: At the rate I drink, you'll still be hot when I did, and young enough, and definitely RICH enough, to have your pick of any man. Other than XXXtreme Machine.

XM: hye!

TV: The most entertaining man on television today, as you well know, is also the biggest stud walking planet Earth. Plus, you got some nice jewelry out of the deal. What more could you want?

Michelle: There is only one show I will never miss. And that's the TV show. Starring you and me, every night, either in your penthouse or in some cheap-ass motel. I'm your outlet, and baby, I need you to plug into me!

Styles: I think I'm going to vomit.

NH: This is disgusting.

Styles: Sarah should be coming anytime soon.

[Cut to Sarah's locker room. Little Good is with her.]

LG: So, you DO love me?

StJS: What? No. God no. We are so through.

LG: Then why?

StJS: Because it's icky.

LG: But if you don't love me...

StJS: There is NO way I'll give you Eliza's number. I though you came here to give me your advice on Kevin...wait a second...

LG: What? No. Don't wait.

StJS: What are you delaying me from seeing? What's happening, Little Good?

LG: Nothing. Honest.

[Back to the ring.]

XM: wtih teh powr vestid n me I no prononc u mna n wif. Kis tat btch!

Styles: OH MY GOD, NO! This is the worst thing I have ever witnessed!

[A sword shoots up from under the ring through the canvas in between XXXtreme Machine and the kissing couple.]

NH: What's that?

SW: What's what? Oh!

Styles: It's The Bride!

NH: That must have been her samurai sword. Her katana.

SW: Bless you.

Styles: She just cut her way into the ring and is crawling out.

SW: Like a newborn baby out of its mother. Except far less bloody and disgusting.

Styles: Trey and Michelle are staring at her in disbelief. XXXtreme Machine is out of there.

Bride: Ha! Now you can't get married. Your priest ran away and...

[Bride chops at the podium with her sword, knocking the podium over. When she turns around, Trey and Michelle are out of the ring. Trey has a mic.]

Bride: Now...there is only one way I will let this farce go on. I want my shot at Atomo for the Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Title.

TV: First off, Bride, we got married. You didn't get through the ring quick enough, you moron. Second, you have nothing I want now. And third, that ring repair is coming out of your salary.

Bride: Noooooo!

TV: And the podium!

Bride: Nooooo!

TV: And those pee stains on XXXtreme Machine's jeans.

Bride: Oh, c'mon!

TV: Oh, yes. Later...see you after the honeymoon. Actually, you know what? Since you like playing with swords, on the next SMC, I'll give you a title shot. Against Mr. Paradox. In a dueling katanas match.

Michelle: Bless you.

TV: Huh? Good luck, Bride. You're gonna need it!

[Michelle and Trey leave, arm in arm.]

SW: Yikes! Bride is gonna be sliced to bits by Paradox!

[Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" runs out.]

StJS: What'd I miss?

[A city street.]

Annoying Guy: Can you hear me now? Hello? Hello?

[He looks at the phone. The phone reads: Call time 0:14.]

Annoying Guy: Good.

[A beach.]

Annoying Guy: Can you hear me now?

Phone: *Beep! Beep! Bzzzzzzt!*

Annoying Guy: Good!

[Somewhere in South Dakota.]

Annoying Guy: Can you hear me now?

Voice: Eat s*Bzzzzt* and die*ZZZZZZZT*.

[The phone reads: No signal.]

Annoying Guy: Good!

Voiceover: Verizon Wireless. Quit complaining. We're still working on it.

[Backstage, The Commentator is with The Bride. She grabs hold of him by the testicles and begins squeezing.]

Bride: Trey will pay. Michelle will pay. Atomo will pay. But next time, Mr. Paradox will be the first one to crumble.

[Dr. Thrilla runs in and hits The Bride with a STOP sign, taking her out.]

TC: Oh, by gawd, thank you, Dr. Thrilla!

[Dr. Thrilla hits TC with the STOP sign. He picks up the microphone and looks at the camera. He walks up close.]

DT: *Metal clanging*

Super Gluey: ¡Hey! ¡El Dr. Thrilla! ¿Cómo usted tienen gusto de tomar el desafío pegajoso estupendo?

DT: *Metal clanging*

[Dr. Thrilla hits Gluey with the STOP sign. Just as Balls Jabroni wanders by.]

BJ: Hey, Doc—

[Thrilla hits him with the STOP sign. Dr. Thrilla looks at all the fallen bodies and walks away. After a few seconds, Igpay Atinolay Eathay strolls into the scene.]

IAE: AHHHHWAY! Ybay Odgay, itway ookslay ikelay away umanhay autoway eckwray outway erehay. Omebodysay allcay 911!

["Frankenstein" by the Edgar Winter Band plays.]

IAE: Erewhay ethay ellhay isway atthay usicmay omingcay omfray?

Styles: IT'S 911! 911 IS IN BOB! OH MY GOD! He grabs Igpay! CHOKESLAM ON THE CONCRETE!

SW: Wow, nice mullet. Is this 1983?

Styles: 911 just chokeslammed Igpay on the concrete. He definitely took it to the extreme!

Grudge Match-A-Go-Go

Send Us Money for Grudge Match A-Go-Go.

In December.


Don't miss BOB's Grudge Match A-Go-Go, exclusively through BOB-On-Demand at!

[Back where we came from, medics are checking on Igpay.]

Medic 1: Hey, buddy, what's your name?

IAE: Igpay. Atinolay. Eathay.

Medic 1: Who's the president?

IAE: Ushbay?

Medic 2: Oh man, he's not making any sense. He must have a concussion.

Medic 1: Maybe he's just foreign.

Medic 2: We can't take that risk. We're medics. TO THE HOSPITAL!

Medic 1: What about these other guys?

Medic 2: Hmm...well, they're unconscious. We can come back for them later. They'll never know.

[Back to the ring. Wig Show is in the ring. Why? Because he's the only guy left backstage to substitute for Michelle, who is going on her honeymoon with Trey. Why he's in the lingerie, I really don't want to know.]


["Enter Kevin" by Vietallica plays.]

WS: Being accompanied by Bruce the Kleptomaniac. Kevin The Pyromaniac!

SW: Is everyone else getting more confused as we go along.

NH: Uh-huh.

Styles: Totally.

SW: Alright then.

Styles: So Kevin has a shot at the top belt because BigBOSS is punishing Sarah.

["Temptation Waits" plays next.]

WS: And her opponent—

KtP: Hey!

WS: Oh, right. And HIS opponent. From somewhere. Sarah "The Jobber Slayer"!

Styles: Kevin's dousing a chair with gasoline. And now it goes up in flames. Oh my GOD! He charges at Sarah. SARAHWITHATRIPLEKICK! ONE! TWO! THREE! SHEGOTHIM!

SW: Wow, Kevin got squashed bad.

NH: Look out, it's Death!

Styles: Sarah gets a big bony foot in the face as she turns around. The crowd doesn't like this at all.

SW: Yeah, they haven't liked most of what we've done tonight. Can't blame them either.

Styles: Death is setting her up for the Netherworld powerbomb! Wait! It's douja! douja hits the ring. He just blew smoke in Death's face!

Death: Dumbass, I don't have lungs. Or eyes for that matter!

Styles: douja grabs Death's scythe! Death drops Sarah and charges at douja. douja connects! Death took a shot in the skull!

NH: Sarah sneaks behind douja. She hits him with the title belt! douja is down. And Sarah is getting out while the getting's good. She raises the belt and the crowd gives her an apathetic cheer.

SW: Our fans put the pathetic in apathetic.

[Outside the arena, a white van slowly drives by.]

NH: Hey! That's a Sears van! You don't think Unit 5 is in there, do you?

SW: Uh oh, is he gonna do a drive by washing? He'll soak his enemies with suds.

Styles: Will Unit 5 make his return this morning.

SW: I thought he returned on Poinkamania. Or was that just a dream?

[Back to the ring, which is now cleared thanks to the magic of editing.]

Wig Show: This is the main event tag team match!

[The "Spam" song plays over the main riff of "Walk" by Pantera. A loud whistling fills the arena.]

WS: Being accompanied by Bill Alfalfa, this is Alan Qaida and Rob Van Spam!

Styles: I wouldn't expect a lot of headlocks and armbars in this one.

SW: Yeah, they were trained by BOB's Power Plant after all.

NH: He meant it's going to be hardcore or extreme or something.

["Domo Origato" replaces the previous song.]

WS: And their opponents. Nic Flare and the Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Champion, Atomo The Living Robot!

NH: Where's Flare? Atomo is coming out alone?

[Backstage, Flare is shown snoring on a bench.]

SW: The old bastard couldn't stay awake!

Styles: And here we go. RVS and Alan Qaida stomping on Atomo as he gets in the ring. Qaida heads to the floor and under the ring. Here come the weapons!

SW: Straight from the local motel. What's he got? A remote control. A phone book. A shower curtain? A wood chair. A round table. He did NOT just throw a BIBLE in there, did he?

NH: He did. Wow, he's truly evil if he plans to use the Good Book as a weapon.

Styles: RVS with a cartwheel...and he falls over. Atomo with a splash on RVS. One. But Qaida stomps on Atomo to break up the cover. Qaida pulls Atomo up and whips him into the corner. He sets up the chair. Air Afghanistan connects! Qaida grabs the phone book and heads up top. Middle East Facebuster from the top rope! One! Two! Atomo kicks out!

SW: Well, it was just a phone book.

NH: RVS goes for a corkscrew leg drop. And misses. Didn't quite get all the screw in that one.

Styles: Qaida puts the Bible across Atomo's face and heads outside. Slingshot legdrop!

SW: That was a leg drop of Biblical proportions!

NH: Alan Qaida grabs the trash bucket as Atomo struggles to his feet.


Styles: Trash bucket to the face. Nothing pretty about it, but it was effective.

SW: Yeah, right. That's some hard plastic that metal-boy just absorbed.

Styles: Qaida's got the shower curtain. Now he locks Atomo into a camel clutch! But he's using the shower curtain to choke him! That's extreme!


SW: I think I hear Flare.

NH: Here he comes, fresh off his nap.

Styles: RVS is up top. Here comes the 1 Star Frog Splash! No! He just lost his footing and falls down on his head! What a klutz!

NH: Qaida gets chopped by Flare.


NH: Chop!


NH: Chop!


Styles: Qaida with a dropkick to Flare's shins.


SW: Is he in pain or having an orgasm?

NH: Ewww. Bad mental picture.

Styles: Qaida lifts up Flare into the corner.


Styles: Stiff punch by Qaida. He sets up the chair. He charges. QUINTUPLE JUMP HOODANCANRANA! COVER! ONE! TWO! NO! Atomo broke it up. Atomo drags the table over. Atomo tosses Qaida on it and heads up top.

NH: He's trying for the Atomic Bomb.

SW: If he hits'll be a miracle.

[Alfalfa gets on the apron and whistles right in Atomo's ear, forcing Atomo to cover his ear and lose his balance. Atomo is crotched on the top rope.]

SW: He'll be singing monotone after that one.

Styles: Alfalfa's got a chair. Here comes RVS. He springboards! VAN SPAMINATOR CONNECTS!

SW: I've mastered the Van Sperminator. Wanna see it, Heidi?

NH: Let me answer that with a call to my lawyer. Hello, Dick? Yes, he did it again. Start the paperwork.

SW: Bah. All lawyers are dicks, I should've known.

NH: Hello? Hello? Damn Verizon cell phones!

NF: Woooo!

Styles: Flare tries for the figure-four, but Qaida blocks with a punch to the nose. Qaida puts Flare on the round table. RVS IS UP TOP. Whoops. Didn't mean to shout that time. Qaida heads up top. LEG DROP AND SPLASH ON FLARE!

[The table topples over, still in one piece. Damn good motel construction.]

Styles: Flare is covered. One! Two! Three! It's over.

NH: RVS and Alan Qaida are your winners.

Styles: RVS just stole the Pop Up belt. He's back in the ring, standing over Atomo. Alan Qaida rips the belt out of his hands. Uh oh. Is there some dissension in the ranks?

[RVS and Alan Qaida steal the belt from each other a few more times in quick succession.]

Styles: Fans, we are out of time. But don't you dare miss the next Sunday Morning Chloroform, or it's a regret you will never forget! For Nurse Heidi and Scotty Whatbody, this is Styles saying, good morning everybody!

© 2005 BOB Wrestling! More painful than a Sumo wrestling wedgie!


© BOB Wrestling!

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

WARNING: This site contains adult content. Surfer discretion is advised.