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LilBOSS (voice): And now, Brawlers On a Budget proudly presents, BOB Bites!

[We are live when it happened in Weed, California.]

Mike Monroe: The opening contest is scheduled for a 30 second time limit!

Scotty Whatbody: What is Monroe doing in there?

Styles: Hello everyone—

Nurse Heidi: Wow, he looks terrible. It looks like he hasn't shaved in two or three days and he hasn't combed his hair in a couple of hours. And his clothes aren't properly tucked in.

SW: Yeah, he's totally fallen apart since I fired his ass.

Styles: And welcome to Brawlers On a Budget!

MM: Introducing first.

[The camera pans to the aisle, where a line of brawlers are waiting in a line. The Flunky pulls back a piece of string and Balls Jabroni walks through.]

MM: Balls, Ja-BRONI! And his opponent. Igpay Atinolay EATHAY. LET'S GET IT ON!

SW: Did you hear that?

NH: Hear what?

SW: The sound of Masked Announcer's television screen being violently kicked in.

Styles: And here we go. Lock up. Side headlock by Igpay. Balls whips him into the ropes. BIG back body drop by Balls. Balls quickly heads up to the top rope. He's going for a leg drop. And misses!

NH: What is the deal here, guys? Thirty seconds? Isn't that impossible?

Styles: Another genius booking decision by Trey Vincent, our Vice President In Charge of Everything. Booking for generation ADD. Dropkick to the face by Igpay! Now he's heading up top.

NH: He better hurry.

SW: Is this match over yet? This is so frigging unbearable.

NH: We're about to see an Igpay fly.

Styles: And he connects with an ogfray ashsplay!

SW: Did you just say assplay?

Styles: No! I don't think so.

SW: It sounded like it to me. Quit trying to be outrageous, Styles, that's my job.

MM: Ding, ding, ding. The time limit for this match has expired. The result of the match, is a draw.

[Cut backstage to BigBOSSes office. He is listening to an answering machine message.]

Steve Studnuts: Hey jerkweeds. I've accidentally injured my elbow again. So I won't be in until I'm healthy. Or you give me the match I want at Grudge Match A-Go-Go. Give me Mr. Pussysox. Whichever comes first. Ya dig? *BEEP*

BigB: Woohoo! There's some money saved. I love injuries.

[Back to ringside.]

MM: This tag team match is scheduled for a 30 second time limit. Introducing first, team one. Dr. Thrilla and Queen Mylisiv

[The Flunky removes the string for them to come through.]

MM: And their opponents...Steve Leary and John "Skeeter" Skeet. The Distorted ICONS.

SW: You know, BOB Bites is the perfect name for this show, this concept and the federation as a whole.

MM: And Scotty Whatbody is an asshole.

SW: What did he just say?

Styles: Sounds like the crowd agrees.

NH: Me too.

SW: Mikey? Don't tell me just because I had you fired that we can't still be friends?

Styles: Skeeter just pulled out a fly swatter. He charges at Thrilla.

Dr. Thrilla: *Metal clanging*

JS: Bugger. Say, Leary?

SL: Yes, John?

JS: How about we get the hell away from this metal-toothed freak before we get our fingers bit off?

SL: Brilliant!

NH: The Icons are leaving the ring?

Styles: What pussies!

SW: Hey, you can't say pussies on my show. Only I can say pussies. Pussies. Pussies. Meow. Pussies.

Generic Ref: One! Two! Five! Eight! Ten! That's it!

MM: The winners of the match by a count out, Dr. Thrilla and Queen Mylisiv.

DT: *Metal clanging*

MM: Yes, congratulation. Impressive victory.

Styles: I think Thrilla was looking for a fight this morning. He doesn't look happy.

SW: Gee, wonder why. He's a fugly bald guy with metal teeth who looks like he just had crazy rag sex with Heidi.


Styles: OH MY GOD! Nurse Heidi just knocked out Scotty Whatbody! What a punch! Now what are we going to do?



NH: I thought he was dead?

Styles: Nobody ever dies forever in BOB. It's like a soap opera. Damn BigBOSS and the voodoo that he do, does.

[The Domino walks past the aisle of brawlers. He steps over the string and heads toward the announce desk at ringside.]

TD: Styles, is that your turd? Oh, my mistake, that's just Scotty Whatbody. Hey, Heidi, how are you honey?

NH: I broke a nail.


NH: Great, you've been out here for less than 20 seconds and you already screwed up your lines.

TD: Tell you what The Domino is gonna do then. He's gonna take that fingernail...turn that son of a bitch sideways...and stick it straight in the trash barrel so nobody steps on it. Don't you just hate when you do that. They're so sharp and jagged and hard.

SW: Hey! You're in my chair.

TD: The Domino says, why don't you call somebody who cares. The Domino wouldn't even piss on you if you were on fire. The Domino wouldn't brake if you crossed the street in front of him. The Domino wouldn't even...ahh, screw it, you get the point. Hit the bricks, jabroney.

SW: This isn't over, The Domino.

TD: It doesn't MATTER if it's over! The Domino is here to lay some commentary down on you retarded monkeys.

[Cut to BOB's retarded monkey in a wheelchair.]

RM: Timmy!

[Back to the ring.]

MM: (Singing) Hit the road, Scotty. And dontcha come back no more, no more, no more, no more. Hit the road, jackass, and dontcha come back no more.

SW: What'd you say?

MM: The following contest is scheduled for a 30 second time limit. And will be an Extreme Bra Removal Match!

SW: Woohoo!

TD: Is that jabroney still in the building?

[Scotty climbs the Flimsy Guardrail and takes an empty seat as the crowd cheers and rises to their feet.]

MM: Introducing first, XXXtreme Machine! And his opponent. Meat-Puppet. And now, playing the part of the breasts. From the Asian escort service, Wong Duck Dong, Mitsubishi and Toyota!

SW: Woohoo!

[The crowd cheers as the girls prance to the ring wearing black lingerie. As they walk past the line, Little Good and Wig Show cover their crotch area. The Asian girls crawl into the ring and stand in the middle, breasts to breasts.]

TD: It figures that Trey Vincent would book this sort of crap!

NH: Crap? I thought you'd find it titillating.

TD: Sure, if you pick two guys that aren't complete virgins! Let The Domino loose in that ring and you'd be seeing breasts galore.

Styles: I don't know how to call this. XXXtreme Machine is yanking on Toyota's bra to no effect. Meat Puppet is just staring lifelessly at Mitsubishi.

NH: Meat Puppet only does the will of Sir Zeno.

[Cut to Sir Zeno, who is with Queen Mylisiv.]

SZ: Err...ahhh...hmmm...

[Queen Mylisiv stares intently at him.]

SZ: Uhh...hmmm...ahhh...err...

TD: Damn it Zeno. Why don't you go try and walk across a room with Paradox and see how far you get!

NH: Huh? I don't get it.

TD: Another blonde-American.

Styles: XXXtreme Machine still struggling. And he's getting frustrated.

XM: sit!

[Toyota sits down.]

XM: hye btch I dint say sti i sed sit!

Toyota: Huh?

MM: I'm sorry to say time is up.

[Loud boos from Scotty and the crowd.]


MM: The match has ended in a time-limit draw.

Crowd: Chloroform sucks! Chloroform sucks! Chloroform sucks!

TD: Yeah, the crowd is right on. BOB indeed sucks, but nobody else can suck with same amount of sucktitude. Nobody sucks better than BOB. Except maybe Heidi. Don't even try it, honey. The Domino isn't some fat turd like Scotty Whatbody. The Domino is the greatest parody sports entertainer alive today. And besides, that's a compliment coming from the Greatest One.

MM: And our main event of BOB Bites will be a 30 second time limit, last man standing match.

Little Good: Bloody hell.

MM: Introducing first, Little Good. And his opponent. Wig Show! LET'S GET IT ON!

LG: Sorry, mate, not a Nancy-boy.

MM: Uhhh...huh?

TD: Hey, Heidi. The Domino heard that your favorite position in 77.

NH: 77?

TD: Yeah. Because you get ate more than in a 69.

Styles: Andrew Dice Domino everybody. And here we go. Little Good with a wild punch that rocks Wig Show. Wig Show grabs Little Good by the throat.

WS: Mmmm! Ice cream!

NH: Where did Little Good get that ice cream cone?

Styles: I don't know, but Wig Show sees it and grabs it. Little Good is gasping for air.

[After Wig Show takes two licks, he falls flat on his face.]

TD: What in the blue hell just happened, Mikey Styles?

Styles: I have no clue.

TD: Well, The Domino says, find out!

NH: Styles is heading to the ring to talk to Little Good.

Styles: Little Good? What just happened.

LG: What, that? Well, my friend Trey hooked me up with this new flavor of ice cream called NyQuil Roofie Swirl. That boy can't hold his ice cream, I'd wager.

MM: Well, the winner of the match is Little Good!

Styles: Your friend Trey? As in Vincent.

LG: Well, yeah. (He lights up a victory smoke.) I knew that guy couldn't resist a taste of ice cream. Or anything edible, really. For now, I suggest you go get that forklift, or else we're gonna have one hell of a speed bump the rest of the morning.

Styles: Well...for Nurse Heidi and The Domino, this is Styles saying...we'll be right back with Chloroform, don't you dare go away!

LG: Sod off.

Sunday Morning Chloroform Logo

Innovating Comedy Since We Invented It!

[Through the magic of editing, we return to Weed, California. "Domo Origato Mr. Roboto" is playing, leading Atomo The Living Robot down the aisle.]

TD: The Domino can't believe this walking trash pile has held that worthless belt for...a long time. The Domino could whoop his metallic ass and leave him an even rustier hunk of junk.

Styles: BOB has only had one Pop Up Ads Crashed My Computer champion since we merged about 20 belts together. Atomo has been unstoppable. Let's see what Unit: Atomo has to say.


["My Love Is Like (WOOOOO!) by Mya and Nic Flare interrupts Atomo. You know that song, right? "My Love Is Like...Wo." It's that song, except Nic overdubbed every "wo" with "WOOOOO!"]

TD: Awww....crap!

Styles: A man more fit for a nursing home than a wrestling ring, here comes Nic Flare.

NH: Why is he out here? To avenge the loss last time to RVS and Alan Qaida?

TD: Why don't you just know your role, and stop talking.


NF: Atomo, WOOOOOOBYGOD, THE, WOOOOOOBYGOD, Living, WOOOOOOBYGOD, Robot! I'm Nic Flare, pal, and you can't talk to me like that, fat boy! WOOOO! I'll take your old lady on a ride at CyberSpace Mountain, fat boy. WOOOO! Because I'm a rent-a-wreck driving, coach-flying, begging and stealing, WOO, son of an alcoholic. Woooo!

[Flare takes off his shirt, puts it in the corner turnbuckles and proceeds to chop and "WOOOO" for the next minute before giving his shirt a low blow and then returning to the promo.]


NF: I am the dirtiest old man in the game today, fat boy. So why don't you put your title on the line against the zero-time heavyweight champion, fat boy! WOOOO!



Atomo: WOOOO.

TD: The Domino sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssays that match will be worth fifty pounds of elephant crap. And what in the BLUE HELL just happened there?

NH: That's quite a lisp you've got there, Domino.

TD: Shut your mouth, jabroney. Doesn't anybody in this place know how to use the delete key?

Styles: Well, regardless of what you think, the title will indeed be on the line this morning. Atomo versus Nic Flare!

[Let's go to BigBOSSes office. Death and douja are both there.

BigB: Listen, underlings. I understand that you both want a shot, but Death won.

douja: that cracka screwed me, dogg.

Death: Not as badly as I screwed your momma. Oh yeah, I banged your mom, when you were inside her. And you tugged on my bone. Fag.

BigB: Language, please. What do you want from me, douja? Why does everybody think that just because I'm the BOSS that I have to solve your problems. Sheesh. Tell you what. You guys are gonna settle your differences in a match. But you two will be teaming up to learn how to resolve your problems and work together instead of creating a feud that could probably make me some good money. So this morning, I'm teaming you two up with Kevin the Pyromaniac. And you will brawl in a six-man tag team match against Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" and two mystery partners of her choosing.

Death: You expect me to team up with a stoner and a pyromaniac?

BigB: Yes. Yes, I do.

Death: Can it be a Kill Your Partners Elimination Match?

BigB: No, Death.

Death: You're no fun.

[Back to the ring. "Highway to Hell" is blaring and here come Throse Dramn Drudleyz.]

MM: This is a tag team contest, scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Drudleyville, USA. The Drudley Boyz.

TD: The half-brothers from different fathers. How many kids did that old lady pump out.

NH: I don't think I want to know.

Styles: They will get their shot at Coma and Hallucination Boy at Grudge Match A-Go-Go in a match of their choosing.

TD: It better be a loser licks horse testicles match or else The Domino has no interest in it. Crapfest A-Go-Go can kiss The Domino's hairy, tanned, ass.

NH: So, The Domino likes the animal porn.

Styles: Strong words. It almost sounds like you're planning a comeback.

TD: The Domino has one target. At the moment. But plans could quickly change, and often do around here.

Styles: Is it Kay Fabe, the woman who tried to kill you and then stole your gimmick?

TD: Tell you what, Styles. The answer you seek is in The Domino's blog. Go to to find out.

Styles: I'll log on right after...hold on a second!

["Harrrdcore" plays.]

MM: And their opponents. Britney Smears and Christina Gaguilera. The Hardcore Divas!

Styles: And they've got chairs.

[Before the Divas can charge into the ring, a Ramones medley blasts over the speakers. ]

Voice-Over: TRAIN! HO! LET'S GO!

MM: And please welcome our special guest commentators, Coma and Hallucination Boy.

TD: Piss on that! They can't wash the Domino's yellow and brown crusty underwear!

Styles: And the match is quickly underway. Britney locks D-Van into a sleeper hold! But D-Van with a chinbreaker to break that up quickly.

NH: Hello Coma, Hallucination Boy.

Coma: Good evening, sports ferns, and welcome to "Triathaloning With The Stars"! I'm your host, Karl P. Dracula, along with my broadcast entree, Enrique!

HB: Nice to be here. HORSE-DRAWN BUGGY!


Styles: D-Van chops Britney! And she likes it! She tells him to do it again. Look at her! She loves getting chopped!

TD: She's got jungle fever.

Coma: I have happy pants!

Styles: Christina sneaks in the ring. Low blow! The Divas set up D-Van for a double suplex. But no! D-Van reverses it! Now Rubba is in the ring. He grabs hold of Christina's legs. D-Van heads up top.

Rubba: Que pasa!

D-Van: Que pasa!

Styles: Diving headbutt to Christina's groin connects!

TD: And what do you call that? Tuna fish hunting?

HB: The Double Muff Dive?

NH: I'd call it a sexual harassment lawsuit right there. Get him out of her crotch!

TD: The Domino heard D-Van was a cunning linguist, but The Domino didn't believe it.

Coma: Hooray for Captain Spaulding! Whoops, there goes the gazeebo! Peep.

Styles: D-Van finally gets up. BRITNEY WITH A SPEAR! BRITNEY SPEARS D-VAN! OH MY GOD! COVER! ONE! TWO! But Rubba breaks it up. Rubba Cutter!

HB: And he's been hit by a stray piece of the Mir Space Station! Oh, the humanity!

NH: Hey, he's going into his boot. What's he doing?

Styles: He better turn around, because Christina is back up. D-Van is set up on the ropes. Dirrrty Kick connects! She just punted his crotch like a football! Rubba grabs her by the hair and-

[Little white bits go flying all over the ring.]

Coma and HB: (singing) There's NO business like SNOW business, like NO business I know...

NH: What did he just hit her with?

TD: Are those teeth?

Styles: Oh my God! Rubba just used Grampa Drudley's dentures on Christina! COVER! One! Two! Three! Are YOU kidding me? And the Drudleyz are getting out of there. They just stole this victory. Coma, Hallucination Boy, are you worried what sort of match the Drudleyz will pick?

HB: Not at all, Steve McMicheal. I'm more worried about the wilderbeast. He's gone missing again. Still, no gnus is good gnus, I suppose.

Coma: (into a kazoo) Whaa-whaa-whaa-whaaaaa. Poink. (falls over)

Styles: Well, thanks for joining us, Coma, Hallucination Boy.

HB: TRAIN! (Falls over)

[Backstage, we join The Commentator, who is with Sarah "The Jobber Slayer."]

TC: Sarah, the small percentage of the world watching us is dying to know: Who are your mystery partners? Will it be Kay Fabe?

StJS: No. Seems Kay and Seth have other plans that don't include me. *Pouts*

TC: Oh. Well, I'm sure Little Good—

StJS: A world of no. We're so done. If I ask him to be my tag team partner, it'd be...icky. So no.

TC: And Michelle is away with Trey Vincent, her new husband.

StJS: Well, she's usually only good for being held hostage until I save her. And she fights like a girl.

TC: And, of course, Xamfir will never wrestle again.

StJS: Yep. It seems I may not be able to get any good partners. So it might as well be three on one. But it's not like I've never been in that situation before. It's just never been in front of so many people.

[TC swallows hard.]

StJS: Does everything I say have to be a sexual double innuendo?

[Scotty Whatbody runs in.]

SW: Did you say double penetration?

TC: Technically, that'd be triple.

StJS: WHAT? I just meant that in my slaying, I've had to take care of three jobbers at once. You guys are so disgusting. I should just go be a lesbian and be done with it.

[Cut to Kay Fabe.]

KF: She couldn't have figured that out three years ago?

Seth Harker: What's that?

KF: Uhh...uhh...nothing.

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

NH: You don't think Unit 5 might be one of the mystery partners?

TD: If Sears is behind repairing Unit 5, the thing will probably fall apart again in 30 seconds.

[Backstage, Britney and Christina are walking down a hallway.]

CA: Oops...I forgot my belly ring. I'll be right back. Watch out for Rubba.

BS: What do I, like, do if he, like, comes here?

CA: You'll be fine.

BS: What-EVER.

[The camera follows Christina back to her locker room. Inside, Rubba is deeply sniffing something in his hands.]

CA: Hey! You better not be sniffing Britney's panties.


CA: Her belly ring? You mean, MY belly ring?


[Rubba throws the ring away in disgust. He begins launching snot rockets.]


CA: You can't get an STD from a belly ring, you idiot.


CA: Chyeah. Why can't we spay and neuter humans?


D-Van (from down the hallway): What?


[Back to the ring.]

TD: Wait until you hear the pop for this jabroney.

[I hit the random button on iTunes and "With A Little Help From My Friends" by The Beatles plays, since I forgot to illegally download his real theme song...whatever it is. And, what pop?]

TD: The silence is deafening for the sticky one.

NH: I'm gonna load up Babelfish so we can try and figure out Super Gluey's broken Spanish.

SG: ¡Acabo de conseguir detrás del taco local Bell! ¡Sí!

NH: I finish obtaining behind I mark the premises Bell! Yes!

SG: Puesto que no he conseguido el respecto que merezco en BOB, he decidido continuar haciendo el mismo truco que tiene todavía ganarme ese respecto.

NH: Since I have not obtained the respect that I deserve in BOB, I have decided to continue making the same trick that it still has to gain that respect to me.

SG: Es tan de nuevo hora para el desafío pegajoso estupendo.

NH: It is so again hour for the wonderful sticky challenge.

SG: ¡Si cualquier persona puede romperse libremente a partir del uno de mis headlocks, usted podría ganar 14 Pesos!

NH: If any person can break itself freely from the one of my headlocks, you could gain 14 Pesos!

Styles: Who will step up and take the Super Gluey Challenge this morning?

TD: Nobody cares, Styles.

["Narayan" by Prodigy plays.]

NH: Sir Zeno is going to take the challenge? I wonder what the Dimension Z to Peso exchange rate is.

TD: Maybe Zeno can use the money to buy a personality transplant. And with the leftover, he can donate it to Super Gluey's unemployment. I'm sure it'd be a better deal than the BOB severance package.

NH: You mean the crushed bottle cap and handful of dirt severance plan?

TD: Exactly, Heidi.

SG: ¿Hey, usted no puede estar hacia fuera aquí, sir Zeno? ¡Usted no es un corredor!

NH: Hey, you cannot be towards outside here, sir Zeno? You are not a runner!

SZ: No kidding. I'm not a jobber. I am the Swiss Army Belt champion. You're not getting respect? I should be the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. And instead, you get air time and I don't even have a match. Well, guess what. I've got a match now. It involves killing you. I hope you planned for your funeral.

Styles: Gluey just shoved Zeno. But now Gluey's hands are stuck to Zeno's chest! Zeno is pissed! Low blow punt by Zeno. Zeno grabs Gluey by the throat. It's time for The Eternal Question!

[Zeno tries to do the toss-into-a-heel-kick portion of his finisher, but he finds that he's become rather attached to Gluey and has to settle for hitting a chokeslam.]

TD: What just happened, Mikey Styles? It looks to The Domino, that that jabroney is still stuck to Zeno's chest.

NH: Here comes Generic Ref to break up this brawl.

Styles: Another chokeslam by Zeno! But Zeno can't get rid of Gluey. Zeno puts his boot on Gluey's chest. He's trying to rip himself free of the crazy luchadore.

NH: The gluey luchadore, Styles.

Styles: Oh no! Now Zeno's foot is stuck! And here comes The Flunky. He's got some rope.

NH: If Zeno would stop punching Gluey, they might be able to try and pull them apart.

Styles: I doubt that's gonna happen.

TD: Great, it's jabroney tug of war. Flunky and Zeno against Gluey and Generic Ref. And it's about to turn into Skinless In California.

TF: Pull! Pull! Pull!

TD: Why don't we just plant these nobodies in the dirt and wait for them to sprout jabroney trees. That would be more entertaining than this c-r-a-p!



TD: Allow me to interpret that one, Heidi. He said, AHHHHH!

SZ: Damn it, give me back my boot!

NH: Zeno's boot is still stuck to Gluey's chest!



Styles: Not anymore.

TD: He's wearing the crimson chest protector, huh Styles? Ahhh, shuddup!

[Backstage, Scotty Whatbody is on a pay phone.]

SW: What do you mean he won't accept the charges? Where am I supposed to get 35 cents? I work for BOB.

[Back to the ring.]

MM: The following contest is the dueling katanas match for the You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out Of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Championship, and is set for one hurty poking. Introducing first...

["Battle Without Honor or Humanity" plays.]

MM: Now coming down the aisle. Here comes...The Bride!

TD: No wonder her fiancee ran away from her at the altar. She's a mega-bitch, wrapped in a layer of dog crap and smothered in suck sauce.

NH: Why did you choose today to make your return, Dom?

TD: You know BOB. The current roster can't sell out a gymnasium, so they call back the real superstars of parody sports entertainment.

Styles: The ones who couldn't sell out a gymnasium a few years earlier? Those ones?

TD: Would you like The Domino to Domino Rally you through this cheap-ass announce table?

["Are We Ourselves" by The Fixx plays.]

MM: And her opponent. The YGBKIADTAYOOYFM champion, Mr. Paradox!

Styles: I can't say I've ever called...or seen a dueling katanas match before.

NH: Bless you.

Styles: This is a first for BOB.

NH: Everything is legal and the title is on the line.

Styles: Everything is legal except killing.

TD: Since when is murder illegal in BOB? This country is so sensitive. We the people are the clitoris of this pussy we call the United States. We put the 'count' in country.

Styles: You can't say that on TV!

TD: Well, The Domino just did, so what are you gonna do about it? Clean your stupid glasses with your stupid Donald Duck tie? The Domino is a cunning linguist. Deal with it or get your ass out of MY announce position.

Styles: Meanwhile, the match is underway. Paradox and Bride are circling each other here before swinging the steel.


TD: Wow, whoever wrote this script hates Chinese people.


Styles: These are two master swordspeople. Bride has taken off several limbs with her weapon and Paradox's sword has taken a good chunk of the BOB paying viewership.


TD: Definitely a racist Batman episode. Why not change up the sound effects with DAIGO! SPICK! NIGG—

Styles: Whoa! Stop it right there!

TD: Finally, The Domino, HAS COME BACK.

NH: With some racist material.

TD: The Domino doesn't need script writers whose closest relationship with a woman is of the rubber variety.

Styles: This is BOB, not Stamford.

TD: The Domino isn't taking any chances, jabroney.


Styles: Oh, NO! Paradox just got her in the arm! Paradox wins! Bride crumples to the mat in pain, blood trickling down the sleeve of her yellow biker suit top.

TD: If The Domino was in there, he would've had that sword so far up Paradox's ass he would've looked like a human shish-kabob.

NH: It doesn't look like Paradox is happy with just that. He may be going for more.

{"Big Balls" starts playing over the speakers.]

Styles: It's Balls Jabroni! And he's got a steel chair.

TD: What's that chair say? 'THIS IS GONNA SMRT!' He's so dumb, he can't even spell 'smart.'

NH: Balls hits the ring. With the chair for no good reason. And now he's getting in the ring.

TD: The Domino wasn't informed today was the Jabroney Parade.

Styles: The ring is filling up. Paradox's title is on the line 16 hours a day and 6 days a week. And Balls Jabroni, Insano Mano, Igpay Atinolay Eathay, Little Good and Kevin the Pyromaniac are out here fighting. Paradox is waiting, but all the people trying to get to him have cancelled each other out.

[Mano rolls outside and grabs the title belt. He throws it at Paradox, hitting him in the head. Paradox's sword goes flying into the crowd.]

Fan 1: Oww! My eye!

Fan 2: You think you've got it bad? Try taking a sword through the heart.


Fan 1: I think I got an eyelash in it. What'd you say, buddy? Buddy?

[Two seconds of static.]

TD: Great editing job, boys.

MM: The next match is for the Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Title. Introducing first, the challenger.

["Like WOOOOO!" hits the speakers.]

MM: This is the Dirtiest Old Man In The Parody Game Today, Nic Flare!

TD: Can't we just embalm him already? I got a nice spot we could bury him near the corner of Geritol Avenue and Old Fart Boulevard.

NH: You don't like anybody, do you, Domino.

TD: I like you. But then again, you've been with just about every member of the roster, the road crew, the front office, the back office, the fans and the second shift of the local Kentucky Fried Chicken crew. So maybe I don't want sloppy twothousandths.

MM: And his opponent.

["Domo Origoto, Mr. Roboto" plays.]

MM: The REIGNING and DEFENDING Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Champion of the WORRRRRRLD. Atomo The Living ROBOT!

NH: This should be an interesting clash of styles.

TD: Yeah...slow versus immobile. It's like WCW's bastard inbred cousin.


Styles: And here comes the infamous Flare strut. He trips!

NF: Zzzzzzz.

Styles: Atomo heads to the top rope. Atomic Bomb connects! COVER! One! Two! Three! HEGOTHIM! Atomo with a decisive victory here this morning, making short work out of Nic Flare.

TD: I could've beaten him before the match even began. The second he heard the Domino's music and saw me step through the curtain, he would've gotten so scared he would've screamed "Oh, God, no," right before he has a heart attack and dies in that very ring. The winner, by submission, The Domino, jabroney. If ya smelllllllllllllll....anything, The Domino just accidentally farted.

Styles: Oh, God, that's gross!

NH: *Coughcough*

Styles: Hold on! It's Rob Van Spam and Alan Qaida!


Styles: They just smashed a picture frame over his skull! Oh my GOD! Atomo is down and hurt.

TD: A piece of art for a piece of crap.

NH: Atomo is being stomped by Alfie's team. Atomo is in deep trouble here.

[Sounds of stuff breaking fill the arena. BIG POP!]

Styles: Are you kidding me? It's LUKE WARM! OH MY GOD! LUKE WARM IS BACK IN BOB AGAIN!

TD: Two bad knees, two bad arms, a bad back and a hangover still can't keep this piece of crap out of a sports entertainment ring?

NH: Apparently not. The thirstiest SOB is coming down with...Scotty Whatbody? No way!







NH: Oh no! Scotty just grabbed Mike Monroe and shoved him in the ring!

Styles: STONECUTTER ON MIKE MONROE! And look at Scotty, he's so happy.

NH: Don't tell me this is Scotty's plan for revenge on The Domino?

Styles: STONECUTTER on Generic Ref!


Styles: STONECUTTER on Scotty Whatbody!


NH: Hey! The Domino is going to the ring!

Styles: STONECUTTER on Atomo!


NH: Look out, Luke!

Styles: Domino....DOMINO RALLY! LUKE WARM is laid out with a Domino Rally!


Styles: And the crowd is booing the Fake People's Champion loudly.

TD: Finally...The Domino...HAS COME BOB. Luke Warm. You walk around, guzzling your Yoohoo and getting your biggest pop since sliced bread pops. But now, Luke Warm, you just got taken out by the most entertaining man to walk down the fake people's ramp, walk into the fake people's ring and layeth the tipeth over on your chubby ass! So Luke Warm. At Grudge Match A-Go-Go. It's time to settle it once and for all. Who was the biggest icon in another federation who then transferred to BOB? When all the dust has settled, all the smoke has cleared and when it's all written and booked and all the cliches have been spewed. YOU will be chugging your Yoohoo with a straw. If ya smellllllllll....anything, it was Scotty Whatbody. Not me. Hit The Domino's music!

[What is your music?]

TD: The Domino Rally commercial theme, jabroney! You just played it earlier tonight when The Domino came out.

[Oh...I did? Shit...]

TD: Ahh, the hell with it...The Domino is going back to the announce table.

NH: So Luke Warm was his target?

Styles: So it seems.

NH: But how did he know if he replaced Scotty Whatbody that Scotty would get Luke Warm to help him?

Styles: Because the bookers thought you wouldn't ask that question.

NH: Sounds right to me.

[Backstage, we go to The Commentator.]

TC: I'm here with Pigeon. And Pigeon. Last week you wrote some poetry for the Vincent-Gellar wedding. My question for you, sir, is what's next for Pigeon?

P: I don't know.

TC: ... Uh...OK. Uh. Do you want to challenge for any titles?

P: Sure.

TC: ... Which one?

P: Meh. I'm not picky.

TC: What about—

P: ME! What about PIGEON!

[He extends his arms wide and then flaps them.]

TC: Ohhhhkay. Back to you guys.


TD: The Domino guesses that's what happens when Trey Vincent isn't writing Pigeon's promos.

NH: What did you just do?

TD: The Domino took out the legend himself. Luke Warm. And The Domino will defeat him totally at Grudge Match A-Go-Go.

["Rising Sun" by Bexta plays. Seth Harker and Kay Fabe walk down the aisle.]

TD: Look at this piece of trash. And that piece of trash. Did these two forget to tan for the last 20 years?

[The picture suddenly went to static, then to black. Perhaps Clive forgot to replace the camera battery. Perhaps the power went out in the building. Or maybe the writer of this show was just really tired and lazy after moving and getting very little sleep the night before and didn't want to transcribe that scene in the second Matrix where Neo is in a courtyard or something, and then a bunch of Agent Smith's enter the courtyard and there's a big brawl. So, if you have that, go pop in your DVD and pretend the courtyard is the BOB ring, every agent Smith is a Kamikazie Ken and Neo is Seth Harker. And don't forget to make Seth say some deep stuff and Kay to have big breasts! I'm sure it would've been great!

Tell me when you're ready to go on...







Alright! Now, luckily, our problem is fixed just in time as you finish up that scene and we can head backstage, where Death, douja and Kevin the Pyromaniac were all passing a blunt around.]

Death: I hope this doesn't make my teeth yellow.

KtP: Who do you think will be Sarah's partners?!!@@!~~`

Death: Bruce, drop my scythe or I will kill you.

[Bruce the Kleptomaniac sighs off-camera. We hear the scythe being dropped on the floor.]

douja: maybe its dose other jobba slayers. da cracka ass cracka and dat fine smooth and chocolaty one.

Death: Nah. I had my posse keep them busy. You remember Famine, War and Pestilence? They challenged the Slayers to a match in the NWO.

KtP: NWO?!!!1```1122~

Death: Netherworld Wrestling Organization. Yep. Hogan borrowed that name from me. But he ruined it. New world order. It won't be much longer until I exact my revenge on him, Hall and Nash.

KtP: You gonna force them to sign BOB contracts?~!~~~!!!1111

Death: Hmmm...nah. I can't deal with their egos on a weekly basis. I'd be jobbing to them for the rest of their lives.

douja: yo, you don’t think unit 5 is comin back? cuz ill drop another dookie on him og style.

Death: I don't know. Maybe we could just go to the ring and find out?

douja: you don’t own me whitey.

KtP: Pyromania ownz j00!!!~~~````111

[Kevin tries to light douja's hair on fire, but douja easily slaps his hand away.]

Ktp: Let's do this...OP style! Original Pyromaniac!!!!1`2333``12~~q121 RUAHH`~~!11``~~!!```12322!

Death: That's it. No more drugs for you. EVER. Again.

[Back to the ring. It's main event time. Monroe? Monroe? Where is Monroe? Blast. Hmmm...OK. This week's special guest ring announcer will be Calista Flockhart.]

CF: Ladies and gentlemen! This is our main event!

NH: Who's talking?

TD: Is there a ghost in the ring? The mic is just floating in mid-air?

Styles: The voice sounds familiar.

CF: Uh, right here! Calista Flockhart. Hello? Ally McBeal?

Styles: Ahh, no wonder we can't see her. She's gotten so skinny she's invisible to the human eye!

NH: Wow, she's trimmed down to a size negative-2!

TD: Even THAT is too skinny for The Domino. The bitch doesn't even have any bones to rattle.

CF: *Sigh* Harrison never complained...Introducing first.

[A mixture of "Them Bones," "Enter Kevin" and "How High" plays.]

CF: Death, douja and Kevin the Pyromaniac.

TD: Didn't Misty Waters star in a movie called Ally McFeel back in the start of her softcore porn days?

Styles: She sure did! I mean, uh...I don't know.

NH: Poor Styles. Can't you find yourself a real woman?

Styles: Sadly, they all want a man with a good paying job and not a basement apartment under his mother's house. Go figure.

TD: Why don't you just hook up with Heidi? She's desperate. You're desperate. It's a match made in the pits of hell.

[There is an awkward silence. ]

TD: Look at all these jabroneys. If only BOB didn't need my insights, I would get into the ring and take out all the worthless, retarded futhermuckers.

["Temptation Waits" plays.]

CF: And their opponents. First. From Cloudydale. She is the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. Sarah "The Jobber Slayer."

Styles: The champ is her!

TD: Don't you mean 'here', jabroney?

Styles: That's not what the T-shirt says.

TD: Well, it's horrible grammar. And she better not do a rap album, or I'll have to beat her with every single copy she presses.

StJS: Thanks, Calista. Alright. This morning, I had to find two partners who weren't already booked. I needed to find two tag team partners I could count on. Instead, I found this guy.

["Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong plays.]

TD: Awww...crap! Not Justin Credible!

Styles: OH MY GOD! It's The Curtain Jerker! The Show Starter! The Snap Marer! He's back in BOB! The Snapmare Kid!

NH: But he sucks. He's a total jobber.

TD: SMK is almost as big a jabroney as Luke Warm. Almost, but not quite. Sarah is reduced to scraping the bottom of the barrel at the bottom of the ocean.

StJS: But that's not the only legend.

SMK: Please welcome the third member of our team. The one. The only. And my favorite tag team partner I've never been a tag team partner with before...Urine!

["Golden Showers" by The Mentors hits the speakers. The crowd is staring blankly at the events unfolding before them.]

Styles: One of the most disgusting wrestlers ever conceived is back.

NH: Urimania is flowing again in California.

TD: Urimania and Pyromania collide in a match that should have never been booked on any continent on this planet. Oh, for God's sake, don't give him a microphone!

Urine: Well let me tell you something, uncle! This morning, with the Snapmare Kid and Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" behind me, mother, you've got to ask yourself one question, sister. Whatcha gonna do. Whatcha gonna do, cousin, when we pee all over you!

StJS: Again with the golden showers. Ick. Damn BigBOSS. BigBOSS can kiss my ass.

[Cut to a smiling BigBOSS and Mrs. Behave.]

MB: Down, Stuart.

[Back to the ring.]

Styles: Sarah and Death are gonna start this one off. And here we go. Knee lift by Death. Another knee lift. And a third. Death has Sarah in the corner. He chokes her with his big, bony foot.

NH: But Sarah comes out swinging and spin kicking. She grabs Death by the designer cloak and rams his skull into SMK's waiting boot. Tag in to SMK.

TD: Think this jabroney's learned anything new in his time away from BOB?

Styles: Snap mare!

TD: No surprise.

Styles: Snap mare! Snap mare! Snap NO! Death halts the snap mare and counters with a side slam.

TD: We're just a powerbomb away from seeing Death's whole arsenal now.

Styles: Tag in to Kevin. Here comes the lighter fluid! He sets the mat on fire. OH MY GOD! Kevin just powerslammed SMK in the fire! COVER! ONE! TWO! Sarah breaks it up.

NH: But Kevin's spraying the mat again.

TD: Can't we just throw everyone into the fire and leave them there? The Domino says all of these jabroneys are on the Who's Suck 2005 list.

Styles: Whip into the ropes. Kevin ducks his head. SMK catches him and spins him around! SNAP MARE INTO THE FIRE! That was one EXTREME snap mare!

TD: Extremely stupid. This isn't entertainment. It's garbage parody sports entertainment!

Styles: If giving the fans what they want is garbage, then we're guilty as charged!

NH: Kevin crawling for a tag. SMK is crawling for a tag. Urine gets the tag. So does douja.

Styles: Urine connects with a punch. Another. Another. Whip to the ropes! Urine with a regular-sized boot to douja's hip!

douja: what da fuck was that?

Styles: douja with a kick to Urine's midsection.

TD: Awww...crap! That wasn't smart.

Styles: Chronic Neck Pain on Urine! One! Two! Thre-

Douja: oh shit! he just pissed all over me! you cracka ass cracka! im gonna fuck you up!

NH: douja's out to the floor. He grabs the empty announcer's chair.

Calista Flockhart: OWW! Watch it!

Styles: Oops, guess it wasn't empty. Sorry, Calista. Oh NO!


CF: Ding, ding, ding! douja's team is disqualified!

Crowd: WHAT?!

TD: What the hell is this crap? Kevin can use fire but douja can't use a chair? The Domino hates this dumbass booking. The Domino is out of here. And The Domino is taking the ratings with him!

[Sound of headset crashing.]

Styles: Domino is leaving. I don't know who booked this crap. But douja's team has been disqualified. Death, douja and Kevin are leaving in disgust.

[Urine tries to leave the ring, but SMK stops him.]

Styles: Oh, GOD, NO!

NH: They're not going to pose, are they?

Styles: Dear God, they are! Two out of shape wrestlers are—

NH: AHHH! I'm blind.

StJS: Worst. Match. Ever. Scarred. For. Life. Can't. Talk. In. Sentences. Larger. Than. One. Word.

[Sarah walks away, as if she's just been through a trauma. Which, she has.]

Styles: Well, Urine and SMK are posing together for some God-forsaken reason. What a lowlight for this company.

[Suddenly, SMK turns around and snap mares Urine.]

Styles: What the?

NH: Thank you, SMK! Now, just hit him with that chair a few hundred times.

Styles: This is our main event angle? Ugh. Heidi, wanna go get some breakfast?

NH: Uh, OK. Nothing left to see here.

Styles: Why did SMK turn on Urine? And who really cares?

NH: I bet the excuse will suck as bad as the heel turn here.

Styles: Most likely. Fans, for Scotty Whatbody, The Domino and Nurse Heidi, this is Styles saying. Good morning everybody!

© 2005 BOB Wrestling! Don't steal our shit, jabroney!


© BOB Wrestling!

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

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