A hand spins a 12-inch table model plastic globe as the TVM rating flashes on the upper left hand corner of the screen.
It Should Be A Crime To Be This Sexy!
[We are live in Toad Suck, Arkansas. Oh wait, did I say live? I meant on tape. We skip right past the fireworks, the opening theme song and opening video montage (because we couldn't afford any, because we didn't want to pay the licensing fee and we didn't have the time, respectively. "Tighten Up Your Wig" by Steppenwolf hits as we enter the Real Sheep Stage.]
Styles: Hello everyone and welcome to Brawlers On a Budget!
Scotty Whatbody: And we're kicking off our 27th edition with the man who leaves behind the largest dumps in the toilet in the world, the Wig Show.
Nurse Heidi: Really didn't need to know that.
SW: Man, I was in the bathroom earlier, and there was a dump the size of a regular man in one of the stalls.
Michelle Vincent: The opening contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by the You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out Of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Champion, the You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out Of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt!
NH: Say that five times fast.
MV: Wait...where was I? *Sigh* Oh. From Toupee, Florida, this is the WIG SHOW!
NH: Nice choice of a wig tonight. He's sporting a lovely blue bob-styled wig. Very cute. For an unstoppable, destructive force as Wig Show.
["Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong plays next.]
MV: And his opponent. From Snap Finger, Florida. This is the Snapmare Kid!
SW: The show starter. The curtain jerker. The jobber. The snap marer.
NH: SMK is on a collision course with Urine at Grudge Match A-Go-Go.
SW: Wow, this crowd is dead. Are you sure we aren't in New Orleans?
SW: Damn, that even offended me. Let's just edit this out later, huh? Aw, crap, they never edit anything out here.
Styles: And here we go. SMK goes right on the attack, but...he can't get Wig Show over for a snapmare. I think SMK is in for a very long morning.
SW: Not as bad as us. We have to sit through every bad match. He just has this one to worry about.
Styles: Wig Show picks SMK up! WIG atomic drop.
NH: Uh...did you say 'wig' or 'big'?
Styles: I said wig. Don't want anybody threatening to sue us for intellectual property.
SW: There's a lot of that going around lately. So, I better not say we have a really BIG SHOW for you this morning, huh?
Styles: Oh, boy...
SW: There are only two words that will describe the show: JUST INCREDIBLE!
Styles: Will you stop? Why are you trying to get us sued?
SW: This match is a dud. Lee. Boyz.
Styles: OK, you didn't think that one out at all, did you?
NH: Wig Show is shooshing the crowd.
SW: There are plenty of volunteers this morning for that duty.
Styles: CHOP! SMK crumples to the mat, grabbing his chest.
NH: Wig Show just picked up the hardcore belt.
Styles: Oh no! He just smashed Snapmare Kid in the head with the You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt.
NH: It looks like Generic Ref is calling for a disqualification.
SW: Damn, what a crappy way to start a show. Guess I shouldn't be surprised after all these years.
BigBOSS: Hold on, hold on, hold on! (Lock, Shock and Barry emerge from the back. BigBOSS can't be seen.) I am the BigBOSS. Say, boys, would you mind stepping aside, oxygen's getting a little scarce. Thanks. Are You Of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt, I don't know who you think you are. This is my show. And if you want to interfere in matches I book, then you're gonna have to pay the price. So, instead of ending this match on a DQ right now, we're going to turn it into a tag team match instead.
SW: Poor, BigBOSS. Now he has to talk to the YGBCIADT...uh...YGBKIADTA...
Styles: Good try, Scotty. The correct abbreviation is YGBKIADTAYOOYFM.
NH: Hey, look! BigBOSS has the Medium-Sized Bucket®!
BigB: So right now, here, in...(BigBOSS consults the bottom of the Medium-Sized Bucket®) Toad Suck!
[He waits for a crowd pop, doesn't get it.]
SW: Damn! This crowd is immune to cheap pops? Spooky. We should call The Agency and have them probe this. And speaking of probing, Heidi...
BigB: We will see Wig Show and the hardcore belt versus Snap Mare Kid and...
[He digs into the Medium-Sized Bucket® and pulls out a name on a piece of paper.]
Styles: Oh my GOD! Pigeon! What a tag team match!
["Come Out And Play" by Offspring begins playing. Pigeon glares at BigBOSS as he walks past him on the way to the ring.]
Styles: Wig Show just threw the hardcore belt at the back of Snapmare Kid's head! SMK turns around. He grabs the title belt. Snapmare on the title belt? Are you kidding me? ANOTHER snapmare? And there's another one.
NH: Pigeon is staring at SMK in disbelief. Uh oh!
Styles: Pigeon is in the ring. He...grabs Snapmare Kid!
[Pigeon extends his arms out wide. He begins flapping his arms.]
Styles: Kick! There's The Pigeon Drop! What a DDT by Pigeon!
Pigeon: WHAT ABOUT PIGEON!!
Styles: Pigeon pushes SMK out of the ring.
[Pigeon crouches in the corner. Wig Show is leaning against the ropes, having recovered the hardcore title belt.]
BigB: Hmm...well, I said the fans of (consults bottom of Medium-Sized Bucket® again) Toad Suck would get a tag team match, and darnitall, you're going to!
[BigBOSS reaches into the bucket and pulls out...]
BigB: Sir ZENO!
NH: Zeno, the holder of the Swiss Army Belt, and Pigeon versus Wig Show and the hardcore title belt. This should be an interesting matchup. In theory.
["Narayan" by Prodigy hits. Sir Zeno walks down, eyeing BigBOSS. He walks toward Michelle and grabs her microphone before heading into the ring.]
Sir Zeno: Pigeon. You are pathetic. I have the Swiss Army Belt. So here's a question for you: What have you ever done in BOB to make you a worthy tag team partner to me?
Styles: Zeno just grabbed his tag team partner! ETERNAL QUESTION! Oh my GOD!
SW: This match is eternal!
Sir Zeno: I demand a better tag team partner.
BigB: Alright. Then you can have.....The Domino?
Voice-Over: If ya SMELLLLL....what the ROCK....is COOKIN'...It smells like CRAP compared to what the Domino is stirrin'!
[The Domino steps out, surveys the crowd and then power walks down the aisle.]
Styles: The Domino has arrived. He's in the ring, and he snatches the microphone from Sir Zeno.
[Domino goes onto the apron and then climbs onto the middle turnbuckle.]
The Domino: Sir Zeno. You want to run your mouth about people being worthy of being your tag team partner? Well, The Domino says you can lick a horse's diarrhea covered ass with what YOU think. Because The Domino says you suck. The Domino says YOU are not worthy of being MY tag team partner.
The Domino: And Wig Show? You do not even deserve to be in the same BUILDING as The Domino! Your momma must have eaten nothing but suck sauce while you were growing in her cursed womb, which explains two things. A, why you SUCK. And B. Why you have such a fat ass!
The Domino: And you, You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out Of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt. You get carried around here like you're some sort of fake people's champion, like you're The Domino. With your duct tape and your tire marks and your endless name. It's like somebody named you with a can of alphabet soup. So, if you like naming yourself with alphabet soup, let me rearrange some of the letters in your name to show you what The Domino thinks of you. I'll take the F. Then I'll take a U. Then I'll take a C. And then I'll take a—
[Sounds of stuff breaking fill the arena. The crowd pops. Everybody in the ring and near the entryway flinches from the sudden crowd noise.]
Styles: It's Luke Warm! The Domino is staring at the slowly approaching bald Texan in horror!
SW: What is he, paralyzed? Get off the rope and run, you moron! Save yourself an ass kicking of Luketastic proportions.
Styles: Warm hits the ring. STONECUTTER ON SIR ZENO! STONECUTTER ON WIG SHOW!
SW: Oh, man, he just STONECUTTERED him out of his wig!
Styles: He picks up the hardcore belt. STONECUTTER ON THE YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING I AIN'T DOING THAT, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FRICKIN' MIND HARDCORE TITLE BELT!
SW: Why isn't Domino moving? Are his feet magnetized to the turnbuckles?
NH: Luke's got him!
Styles: STONECUTTER FROM THE TOP ROPE! OH MY GOD!
[Luke heads to all four corners of the ring, giving each side of the crowd two thumbs up.]
BigB: Hold on there, Luke Warm. Hold on. You see, you just interrupted my tag team match. But that's OK. Because there are still plenty of names left in the bucket.
[Luke picks up a mic.]
Luke Warm: You want me to be in your silly little tag team match?
BigB: I do.
Luke Warm: Well let me tell ya. Mama Warm's pride and joy is more than willing to LAYETH THE LUKETH DOWN on BOB! I don't care who you send out here. I will whip them like they've never been whipped before. And that's the lower latitude.
BigB: Say hello to your tag team partner...XXXtreme Machine!
Luke Warm: Are you out of your ass picking mind?
[XXXtreme Machine steps out with a bottle of water. He dumps it on his blue hair and then spits some of it out. He slowly walks to the ring. He climbs up onto the apron and guzzles some more water before throwing the remainder away.]
[Soaking Michelle. But it gets a pop from the guys in the crowd. He leans back against the ropes, then suddenly starts coughing and spits out the water.]
SW: This entrance seems somewhat familiar. Don't tell me...Triple X?
NH: XXXtreme Machine is in the ring. And Luke Warm gets right in his face. They are nose to nose.
BigB: And your opponents. Igpay Atinolay Eathay and Queen Mylisiv!
["Low Rider" by KoRn plays and Igpay begins moseying down the aisle. Then, "Toxic" by Britney Spears plays and Queen Mylisiv heads down the aisle. Queen Mylisiv passes by Igpay in the aisle.]
Styles: STONECUTTER ON TRIPLE X TREME. Queen Mylisiv charges! Misses a clothesline. STONECUTTER!
NH: Luke consulting his watch. Igpay is STILL making his way down the aisle.
SW: He's almost putting G.I. Slow to shame, here.
Styles: Luke isn't waiting any more. He charges at Igpay. Kick. STONECUTTER!
NH: LUKAMANIA is running wild in Toad Suck.
SW: This town should be called WE Suck. This place is the pits.
Styles: Hey! That's Rob Van Spam and Alan Qaida! They just came out of the crowd! Oh no!
Styles: Qaida just threw a chair at Warm's head! Warm is dazed. Double dropkick sends Warm down! Qaida locking in a camel clutch! RVS bounces off the ropes. OH! Dropkick to Warm's face! Qaida sets up the chair.
[Qaida jumps over Warm onto the chair. Onto the top rope. Back onto the chair. Back onto the top rope.]
Styles: QUINTUPLE JUMP MOONSAULT!
NH: RVS is getting a table.
Styles: Not just ANY table!
NH: Look at that monstrosity!
Styles: It's an Electrified Exploding Thumbtack Barbed Wire Nailed Broken Glass Net Pirahna's That Have Been Eaten By Baby Sharks Which Have Been Eaten By A Flaming Crocodile table! Now THAT's EXTREME! Alan Qaida heads up top! He's got a chair, as if he needs that!
Styles: Oh my God.
SW: That's all you've got after THAT? No caps lock abuse? Not triple exclamation points? No big font? No bold letters? That's it?
Styles: It was an extreme Afghanistani facebuster with a steel chair. I won't deny you that.
RVS: Heyyyyyyyyyyyy, Alfie! Maybe we can change Luke Warm's name to Luke Extracrispy! That's all well and good, but everybody knows that everybody came to see everybody's favorite sports entertainer out sports entertain everybody. That's right. Mr. Sunday Morning, Rob Van Spam!
[As RVS is talking, Alan Qaida shoves Luke Warm out of the ring and then throws the table bits down onto Warm.]
RVS: RVS is more brutal than a teen sex orgy caught on video. Everybody wants to see Rob Van Spam like they want to see cute blonde anal. And Rob Van Spam is more explicit than incest, slut wives, gangbangs and interracial loving of fat chicks!
[Alan Qaida tries to get the mic, but RVS shoves him away.]
RVS: Alan, nobody wants to hear you talk. Everybody came here to see the Whole Frickin' Show. They didn't come for the sideshow. Isn't that right, Alfie?
BA: Thatsrightdaddyrobvanspamisthegreatistandyouarejutslosers! Hestepsintheringanddoesthethingwiththekicksandthespinningthingwherehegoesanddoesthatotherthing, thenthezthaonetwothreeasbillalfalfacallsit straight down the middle, daddy andrvsfourtwentyisthewinnerandyouaretheloser!
[Qaida, who seems to be getting all hyped up from Alfalfa's speech, springboards onto the top rope and then does a swan dive through the E-Z Break Announce Desk!]
BigBOSS: Since Styles can't say it, allow me. Oh my GOD! Bill Alfalfa, it seems you have quite a tag team there. And...as luck might have it...I'm trying to get together a tag team match. So. I'd like to introduce you to your opponents this morning. Little Good and ....DEATH?
["Money" by Pink Floyd hits, and Death walks out. Little Good stomps out.]
LG: Hey. Hey!
[Little Good grabs Death.]
LG: Hey, mate. I was talking to you. (He inhales on a smoke.)
Death: Oh. I see.
Styles: TOUCH OF DEATH! Death just hit the Touch of Death on Little Good! He's dead! Little Good is DEAD!
NH: I always thought the lung cancer would get him...
SW: Is Qaida insane?
NH: He's an anarchist, a terrorist and a...what's the third one? antichrist or something?
Styles: Here comes Sarah "The Jobber Slayer"! Death sees her coming. And here we go! These two will go at it for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS in just about two months on Grudge Match A-Go-Go! But they're brawling now! Trading lefts and rights.
SW: Corpsify her, Death. Corpsify her!
NH: Clothesline over...well...the Flimsy Guardrail falls over, and Death and Sarah both land on the floor hard. Death starting to crawl away, but Sarah is in hot pursuit!
Styles: What a wild start to Chloroform!
SW: Look at this idiot! He just pulled a cactus out from under the ring!
Styles: Alan Qaida sets up the cactus in the middle of the ring. He heads up top. MOONSAULT ON THE CACTUS! OH MY GOD! Alan Qaida is INSANE!
[Qaida grabs at his chest and midsection in pain as he rolls away, screaming. Bill Alfalfa whistles and points up at the ceiling.]
BigB: Wow. I guess I should—
["Shake That Ass Bitch" by Splack Pack hits!]
Styles: Oh, NO! This match is about to get even MORE hardcore!
[Christina Gaguilera and Britney Smears run out!]
SW: They've got those huge barbed wire vibrators again!
Styles: Here we go! RVS charges. Barbed wire vibrator to the midsection. OH! And there's a shot to the back! OH MY GOD! Christina is raking the vibrator back and forth across Alan Qaida's forehead! BRITNEY SPEARS ROB VAN SPAM INTO THE CACTUS! OH MY GOD!
NH: What is that? A cheese grater?
Styles: Oh god, no! CHEESE GRATER TO ALAN QAIDA'S GROIN!
NH: RVS pokes Britney in the eye. He's got the barbed wire vibrator! He hits her in the head!
Styles: Qaida with a punch to Christina!
SW: Whoa! Britney is gushing blood down her face!
NH: This is sick!
SW: Qaida is even bloodier! This is GREAT!
Styles: SICK chair shot by Qaida on Christina.
NH: RVS heads to the top rope. Britney's up! RVS is crotched. Now what's she doing? Wow! A bulldog from the top rope onto the cactus!
SW: Wow, these two teams hate each other!
Styles: How's this level of hatred possible so soon? They don't even know each other!
SW: Whoa! Look at Christina! She's got the crimson mask. And RVS is bleeding now too!
BigB: Hold it hold it hold it HOOOO! Guys, really, I appreciate your efforts here. But this match is too disturbing for me to watch. So, thanks. But I'm gonna get some new people for my tag match.
[Christina and Britney grab their vibrators and head up the aisle. Alan Qaida points up at the ceiling and then leaves. RVS heads up the aisle. As they pass BigBOSS, he gets a look of disgust on his face from all the dripping blood.]
Styles: Only in BOB will you see women as willing to bleed as the men.
SW: Yeah, it's too bad. They were pretty hot when they started. Now they're getting all scarred and bruised.
BigB: OK. Please welcome out next, hopefully for a successful tag team match. Atomo The Living Robot!
[Backstage in a hallway, Atomo was on the approach once again with Sarah_bot.]
Atomo: PARDON-ME-UNIT: SARAH_BOT.
Sarah_bot: Atomo, right?
Sarah_bot: How is your talking in all caps monotone going?
Atomo: GOOD. HOW-ARE-YOU-DOING-BABY? YOU-ARE-LOOKING-FINE.
Sarah_bot: Thank you for the compliment, but I already have a girlfriend.
[Atomo leans in close to Sarah_bot.]
Atomo: *Robotic whispering*
Sarah_bot: *Robotic gasp* That would be wrong! You're NOT my girlfriend!
[Sarah_bot picks Atomo up over her head and throws him through the wall!]
Atomo: YOU-THREW-ME-THROUGH-A-WALL. WHAT'S-THAT-ALL-ABOUT?
Sarah_bot: You cannot make those suggestions to me. I have a girlfriend. Kay is my girlfriend.
Atomo: YOU-KNOW-WHAT? MY-SYMPATHIES-TO-KAY!
[Back to the ring.]
BigB: Hmm...let's try...Super Gluey.
Voice-Over: COME ON DOWN. You are the next contestant on The Tag Team Match Is Wrong!
[Backstage, Super Gluey jumps up in celebration. He goes to the door and tries to leave. Only to be pulled back in by the door knob.]
SG: ¡Gah! ¡Mi mano se pega a la perilla de la puerta! ¡Si no estuviera para la mala suerte no tendría ninguna suerte en todos!
[Back to the ring.]
BigB: Right then...tag team number one. Mr. Paradox, and...douja!
[A little mixture of their songs results in a brand new one I like to simply call "How High Are We?" by Redman, Method Man and The Fixx.]
SW: Man, who is left? None of these people were booked for matches this morning?
NH: Apparently not.
[douja and Mr. Paradox walk down together. Paradox points his sword in BigBOSSes direction. Not realizing it's a violent threat, BigBOSS waves back and points back at him.]
SW: What good fortune that this spur of the moment tag team match happened then, huh, Heidi. It's almost a bit TOO coincidental, isn't it?
NH: I don't know what you mean.
SW: Oh, right, we need to have a talk about leprechauns after the show. Fine.
BigB: And their opponents...Oh my...Meat-Puppet and...Steve Studnuts!
Styles: Oh my GOD! Steve Studnuts has to team up with Sir Zeno's lackey and face two of the three men he will face at Grudge Match A-Go-Go in Snore Games: The Match Be-Yawn!?
NH: It's a Snore Games match?
SW: News to me. How'd you know that, Styles?
Styles: Call it a hunch. Or an e-mail accidentally sent to me by Studnuts.
["Brain Of J" by Pearl Jam hits. Here comes Steve Studnuts running down the aisle. Meat-Puppet begins shuffling down the aisle as quickly as he can.]
Styles: Here we go! Studnuts clothesline Paradox! Clothesline douja! Clothesline Paradox. Clotheslines douja! douja charges at Studnuts who ducks! douja clothesline Paradox! Oh my.
NH: Studnuts with an atomic drop on douja. Meat-Puppet is in. He trips and falls, but right into the back of Studnuts leg!
SW: Chop block. What's this zombie's football background? Did he play for the Cleveland Brains?
Styles: This is a gang-like beatdown! Studnuts' own partner Meat-Puppet, Mr. Paradox and douja are stomping and punching away on a helpless Steve Studnuts.
NH: Oh no! Paradox just picked up his sword! He's telling douja and Meat-Puppet to hold him up.
SW: Studnuts has guts for going into this fight. But now I think we're going to see them.
Styles: Can't anybody stop this?
["Smooth Operator" by Sade hits. Huge pop!]
SW: Heels! Hello! Can't you hear the music? Or the cheering crowd! Turn around!
Styles: Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is in the ring. NIPPLECUTTER ON MR. PARADOX! douja jumps SMP. He's trying to lock him in for Chronic Neck Pain, but Sil with a back body drop! What a reversal! Studnuts has Meat-Puppet up! Death Valley (Of The Sun) Driver!
BigB: Hoooooooooooollllllld on everybody! This is not BOB-On-Demand! This is not Grudge Match A-Go-Go. And this is not a free HBO weekend! Everybody, if you want to continue this fight, do it off-camera. And make sure not to hurt yourself. Thank you.
NH: What a shocking turn of events. BigBOSS only giving us the smallest taste of what we can expect from Snore Games in December.
[All five guys head up the aisle, shaking their heads in disgust that they had to stop their fight.]
BigB: Alright. There are only four names left in my Medium-Sized Bucket®. So, I'm going to pull out these four names. And you four fellas are gonna give me your best. And if you don't, so help me, I'll dock your pay. So, here is Kamikazie Ken and his tag team partner...Insano Mano? Oh lord. And their opponents...Ladies and gentlemen, the Not Good Enough To Fight Alone Tag Team Champions, Hallucination Boy and Coma, the Exploding Holy Grail!
["Crazy Train" plays, a fitting enough song for all these idiots, plays. And all four of them head down the aisle.]
Styles: Alright. I think we're ready. This has been absolute chaos this morning.
[Wig Show steps over the Flimsy Guardrail® with the YGBKIADTAYOOYFM Title Belt over his shoulder.]
NH: Oh, man!
Styles: Wig Show's in the ring.
NH: But he has a cool new wig. He looks just like a blond renaissance maiden!
SW: A big, ugly, fat maiden.
Styles: Wig Show just took out Insano Mano with the belt! And he smashes the title into the masked face of Kamikazie Ken. Generic Ref is calling for a DQ.
SW: Oh, crap! Isn't that how this whole mess started about an hour ago.
BigB: Ah, screw it. I give up.
SW: It's about time!
MV: The winners of the match, as a result of a disqualification, Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano!
Coma: That was interestingly squishy! Run, weasel, run! See the weasel run! Neeeh!
NH: We'll be right back.
Sunday Morning Chloroform is brought to you this morning by:
[We're back on tape, and The Commentator for some odd reason is standing on the side of the ring near the aisle.]
TC: Welcome back, folks. It's been a hellacious high-speed drunken chase thus far. But things are only going to get more out of control as I welcome this man...Urine!
["Golden Showers" by Mentors hit. The fans are back to being uninterested.]
TC: Urine, I've got to ask your thoughts on what happened last week.
[Urine steps out and begins walking down the aisle. TC holds the mic out to a phantom as Urine walks down the aisle.]
TC: I see.
NH: What's up with The Commentator? He been hitting the sauce?
[Urine joins TC at ringside.]
U: Well you know something The Commentator...me and all the members of the Urination, cousin, have a question for YOU, chum. Why are we having the interview on the floor NEXT to the ring, sister? Why didn't we just walk the few extra steps so everybody could see, hombre? It almost hints to me, nephew, like somebody is gonna be coming out during my interview, buddy!
TC: And what are your thoughts as we head towards Send Us Money: Grudge Match A-Go-Go?
U: People ask me, Urine. Why on God's yellow earth would you throw down the Yavipappi gauntlet, crony? SMK is younger than me. He's got more hair than me. He's the master of the snapmare. And why is Urine seeking out the Snapmare Kid? Because he dared to question the mortality of Urine. I am the biggest jobber in the history of this business, mommy! I am a jobbing God. If God were a jobber, he'd be me. I know there are things that other people can do that I never have a hope of being able to do. I am like a dude who the Mafia puts in cement and throws in the ocean, neighbor! I go down and I never get up, amigo! So you need to ask yourself one question. Whachagonna—
Nic Flare: Woooooo!
[Nic Flare runs out from the back and begins the long walk toward Urine and The Commentator.]
NF: Wooooooo! Woooooo! Wooooo! Wooooooo! Woooooooo! Fat boy! Woooooo! CyberSpace Mountain! Woooooooooo! Rent-a-wreck! Wooooooo! Coach-flying! Wooooooo! Dirtiest Old Man! Wooooo! Begging! Woooo! Stealing! Wooooo! Bygod!
TC: What is the meaning of this, Nic Flare?
NF: Theeee, WOOOOOOBYGOD Commentator! Tonight I have a match. A MATCH! Woooobygod!
Urine: Is it with Snapmare Kid?
NF: No, fat boy! Wooooo! You're talking to Nic Flare, pal! And tonight, I, have, a, match, with somebody who dresses in all yellow! That's right! That's right! Woooo! That's right. That's right. That's right. That's right. That's right. That's right. And I thought YOU were him!
Urine: Are you talking about The Bride, Flare?
NF: That, THAT is HIM!
Urine: Um, that's not a him, grandpa. He's a she, ex-wife!
NF: Do you THINK...she will give me a sponge bath?
Urine: No way, buddy.
NF: Man, woman, WOOOO, it doesn't matter! I'm gonna grab your testicles and squish them like a bug! And that's a promise, fat boy. Woooo! Woooo! Wooooo!
Urine: Whatchagonna do, SMK? Whatchagonna do when Urine and the Urination, PEES, all over you? *Snarl*
Voice-Over: *Metal clanging*
["Under The Knife" by AC/DC hits. Dr. Thrilla emerges from the back, brandishing his trust rusty scalpel.]
MV: The following contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, from Tijuana, Mexico, the REALLY sinister surgeon, Dr. Thrilla!
NH: Dr. Silaconne M. Plants ain't gonna like hearing that.
["Fuck and Run" by Liz Phair plays.]
MV: And his opponent. From Buttzville, New Jersey, this is Misty Waters!
[Misty is nowhere to be seen.]
SW: Somebody probably didn't tell her that it was time for her match. LilBOSS is asleep at the wheel again.
NH: Misty had a tough loss last week to Queen Mylisiv, with a little help from Sir Zeno.
SW: Yeah, way to make your number one contender look like a girl.
Styles: I'm getting a little concerned. I hope there isn't any foul play.
NH: They've cut her music. The fans aren't liking this.
SW: Yeah, they're going back into hibernation already.
[Cut backstage near the entryway. Misty is face down on the concrete, surrounded by Trey Vincent, The Flunky, BigBOSS, LilBOSS and a few other extras.]
Sir Zeno: What? She just tripped. You saw it, didn't you, Flunky?
TF: Uhh...sure. Yeah, BOSS, she just tripped. But definitely NOT on Zeno's foot.
TV: How do you explain the broken mirror?
SZ: Well, according to Dimension Z folk lore, breaking a mirror breaks the soul of the one who broke it. So, my guess is, her soul is so angry at being hurt that it's going to exact seven years of bad luck as punishment.
BigB: Well this is unfortunate. I just bought that mirror. Flunky, what was it doing out here?
TF: I swear it was...(he looks at Zeno) Uh...my fault, totally, BigB. She's a girl. She's a klutz. She tripped over her own feet. Zeno was just admiring your lovely new mirror and she fell head first into it.
BigB: Well, it's coming out of your salary, Flunky.
[Back to the ring. Generic Ref is in the midst of a ten-count.]
MV: The winner of this match as a result of a count out, Dr. Thrilla!
SW: What a scintillating match.
[We cut to Kurt Angel.]
KA: My name is Angel. Kurt Angel. I am a fallen angel from Heaven. I'm a former BOB ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. I have a really cool white leather trenchcoat.
[Sounds of papers shuffling.]
KA: And I'm the greatest sports entertainer to ever grace the Pearly Gates, people, and you all know it. BigBOSS knows it. Trey Vincent knows it. You know who else knows it? Kay freakin' Fabe. I bet when you were on the BOB bus after last week's show, it wasn't Seth's hands you were imagining being all over you. Not false...so not false.
[Kurt holds up...uh...rolling papers? He licks the paper and seals up...uh...a joint?]
KA: I left Heaven...alright, God cast me out because the weed is too good. But there was a price to be paid, people. Just so you know, if when you die, you go to Heaven. Don't smoke weed. Or else you may find yourself in a place like this. But I'm making the best of it. Where's my lighter...Kay. I am the most stoned angel ever to be thrown out of Heaven.
[Kurt lights up.]
KA: Drugs are good...I mean...bad. Cut the camera off...I need a hit.
[Fade to black.]
Grudge Match A-Go-Go is just a few weeks away now! The hype is almost over! So why don't you just order it already? Order now before we drastically reduce the cost and put it out on DVD in two months! Why wait for some online Web recapper to tell you if it's good or not. It's BOB! Trust us! Everything on the 'Net is a lie. Except for this commercial! SEND US YOUR MONEY NOW!
[Back, "Rising Sun" is playing, and we are in the midst of an ultra-cool rapidly changing camera angle entrance by Kay Fabe and Seth Harker. Shots change from far away, overhead, really up close, from above, upside down. Every angle you can imagine.]
NH: Warning to all viewers, this entrance may cause convulsions.
SW: How long did it take to edit this thing together?
NH: If I counted right, Seth and Kay walked down the aisle about seven times.
Styles: I think the grainy footage effect was a bit over the top. Who's directing this? Oliver Stoned?
[Seth gets in the ring and stands against the ropes with his legs apart. Kay hops up on the apron and slides on her back under the bottom rope and through Seth's legs. She pulls herself up, pausing about midway...and, uh...pulls herself the rest of the way up, rubbing all of her goods against Seth.]
NH: The sleaze is on. Damn, she has turned into such a slut.
SW: But at least she's a monogamous slut. Only Seth gets that body.
Seth: We would like to invite a good friend of ours to join us out here this morning. Little Good. If you're not gonna be all wussy and use being dead as an excuse, why don't you come out here and face us like a man.
Styles: Two weeks or so ago, Seth Harker hit a Tiger Driver on Little Good off the stage onto the floor. And this morning, he was killed by Death.
["Too Drunk To Fuck" by Dead Kennedys hits, and here is Little Good, fresh off a near Death experience. Which of course, is dying. BWAHAHAHA. Anyway...]
Seth: Hold on there a second, Billy Joel.
[Kay whispers something to Harker.]
Seth: I mean, Billy Idol. We understand that you've been having a real tough time the last couple of weeks. So, on behalf of the Skull & Bones, we'd like to offer you a peace offering. This pack of Morley cigarettes.
LG: Oh, come on! First of all, I'm not a heel, so I can't smoke that brand. Second of all, you expect me to come into that bleedin' ring with the two of you after I've just been killed? Please. I may have been knocked in the head a few times, but I ain't poink material yet. Besides, mate, you're just jealous that I got Kay first.
KF: What? When? What?
LG: Three very good questions, little lady. Don't you remember that night when we were all drinking at Sarah's flat and then I slipped that pill in your drink, took you home and had my wicked way with you? Bloody hell, you were dead to the world, love. I can't believe you forgot that!
Styles: Oh my GOD! I think Little Good just went too far. Seth charges up the aisle and grabs Little Good. Man, that guy can fly.
NH: They're taking him to the ring for a beat down.
Styles: It's Kurt Angel! Kurt Angel is charging down the aisle to the rescue! Oh my GOD!
NH: Little Good with one ugly tackle type of thing on Harker.
SW: One botched move after another from Little Good. He really is little good.
Styles: Heavenly Slam on Kay! And now Kurt grabs hold of Harker by the ankle! But Harker kicks his way free. No Angel Lock this morning.
NH: There might be later when Kurt has to take on Kay and Seth in a handicap match.
SW: Get outta there, Seth! And get Kay! It looks like she's gonna need a full body massage. Oh, I wish I was Seth Harker's hands.
You people will PAY to see the movie "Flightplan"?
Great! Here's some other mindless crap for you to buy:
SEND US MONEY for GRUDGE MATCH A-GO-GO!
Coming to a bobwrestling.com near YOU! Log on to buy your ticket to STUPDENOUSITY!
Nic Flare: Wooooo!
["Woo Hoo" by the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10s" plays.]
MV: Introducing first, from Atlanta, this is Nic Flare!
SW: The rent-a-wreck driving, coach-flying, begging and stealing old-timer is here. It's too bad BOB isn't watched more, or the nursing home he escaped from in Atlanta might see him here.
[Damn, it's like the "Kill Bill" soundtrack here for this match. "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" by some Japanese guy plays.]
MV: And his opponent. From Boston, Massachusetts. Here comes The Bride!
SW: And listen to that lack of response to The Bride.
NF: Woooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!
NH: Sounds like Flare likes her.
Styles: Alright. Let's get this one underway. Bride doesn't look amused at all by the Natural Dude.
NH: Bride is focused on dethroning Atomo for the Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Title at Grudge Match A-Go-Go.
Styles: And here we go. Flare drops to his knees. He, uh...grabs hold of The Bride!
NF: I've GOT your TESTICLES, fat boy. WOOOOO!
Bride: First of all, I don't have any testicles. Second of all, that's my clitoris. Third of all, prepare to die.
Styles: Bride lifting up Flare over her head! OH MY GOD! Gorilla press slam!
NF: OHHHH GOD! OHHH GOD!
Styles: Bride pulls Flare up like a rag doll! KATANA HAJIME! THE BRIDE-MISSION IS LOCKED IN!
Generic Ref: Whaddya say, Flare?
NF: I haven't been this excited since I took your old lady on a ride at CyberSpace Mountain, fat boy, WOOOO!
Styles: Bride takes Flare down to the mat.
SW: Damn. Those long legs are all wrapped around him. No wonder why he doesn't want to give up.
Styles: Well, he's going to sleep happy anyway. He looks all done.
NH: Yep. There goes the arm. And again. That's it.
MV: The winner of the match by submission, The Bride!
[Backstage. Office. Trey Vincent and Pete "X-Factor" Trable. And go!]
TV: Trable? What are you doing here?
Trable: The X-FACTOR IS HERE!
TV: Yeah. I know this. What do you want.
[Vincent digs into the front pocket of his black jeans and pulls out a yo-yo.]
Trable: Yo-yo! Yooooo!
TV: It is pretty sweet, ain't it. Now if you stop saying 'yo' I'll let you have it.
TV: What is it you want, Pete?
Trable: Trey Vincent, BOB's Vice President in Charge of Everything
I wanted to know if you'd mind if Michelle had a fling
I mean, hell, I'm bored as dude in solitary confinement
And it looks like her chassis could use some realignment
But I'm just playing, dogg, I really just want a match
I don't really want to be all up in your wife's snatch
You lookin' at the most talented dude without a feud for Grudge Match A-Go-Go
TV: Hold on—
Trable: Hey bung sucker, you just interrupted my flow!
I ain't done speaking, what, can't you hear me?
I'm not wearing camouflage, so I know you can see me
Just book me in a match soon bookerman
Or maybe soon you'll need to run a virus scan
On your WIFE.
You want some, come get some
You don't like me, BITE ME
Pete Trable is yo' hookup. Holla if ya hear me!
TV: You are a mound of vomitous, menacing, fucked up fuck.
Trable: You dipsticked, stray dog-groping, jock strap-licking, toe jam-munching, penis-chewing, cock-brained cock jockey!
TV: You anal-invading, father-humping, jock strap-smelling, ass-sucking, zit-nibbling, fuck-brained fuckwit!
Trable: You soap-dropping, donkey-molesting, latex-sniffing, shit-sucking, pimple-popping, wank-faced fucktard!
[They stare at each other for a couple of seconds.]
TV: Thank God we don't need to bleep anything on this show.
Trable: For real, dogg.
[Back to the ring.]
MV: The following tag team match is set for one fall. Introducing first.
["Better Days" by Tadpole hits.]
MV: Representing the Skull & Bones Society. Accompanied to the ring by Dustbuster Boy, Esq., this is John "Skeeter" Skeet and Steve Leary, the Distorted Icons!
Styles: The Sucks are here.
SW: That's Suck Ups, Styles. Get it right, or maybe Death will have to get a little rough with you.
NH: This match is a result of last week, when the Drudleyz came out and cost the Icons the chance of beating the tag team champions. Apparently the Drudleyz want to beat Coma and Hallucination Boy for the titles.
SW: Why? They could just as easily beat the Icons. I mean...Wait.
Styles: We still haven't heard what the stipulation for that match will be.
SW: Well, there still are two months to go before they decide. The Drudleyz are a little slow.
["Highway To Hell" by AC/DC plays.]
MV: And their opponents. From Drudleyville, this is Rubba Ray and D-Van, the Drudley Boyz!
NH: And they're not even waiting. They head right under the ring and pull out a table!
Styles: That certainly woke up the fans. I was wondering what it would take to light a fire under them.
NH: You didn't just say 'fire' did you?
Styles: Oh no! Rubba's got lighter fluid!
RRD: THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, KEVIN! YOU DUSTED JOBBER!
NH: He's dedicating this flaming table spot to Kevin The Pyromaniac? Why?
SW: I can't seem to get a handler on it.
NH: Was that subtlety?
Crowd: E-C-Dub! E-C-Dub! E-C-Dub!
Dustbuster Boy, Esq.: Pardon me. But the WWE just called. And if you fans don't stomp chanting ECW, they are going to sue all of you for trademark infringement!
Styles: What? They're going to sue the FANS? Nah, I can't even be shocked by that, not after watching what they subject their fans to already.
NH: Their pay-per-views are already highway robbery.
Styles: It's Small Tyke Drudley! He's got a lighter! And look at Skeeter and Leary run!
SW: RICKY! LOOK OUT!
Styles: DUDLEY DEATH DROP OF DOOM ON DUSTBUSTER BOY!
SW: Don't run away! You pussies! Get back in the ring.
NH: I don't think the Icons signed up for this.
Styles: They've got Dustbuster Boy up! Oh NO Ah, who am I kidding! YES! YES! We are about to get TOO EXTREME for Comedy Central!
Styles: The table is on fire!
Styles: OH MY GOD! Dustbuster Boy takes a Rubba bomb from the ring through a flaming table!
Crowd: B-O-B! B-O-B! B-Y-O-B! B-Y-O-B!
NH: Well, they tried to chant something different.
SW: Somebody better check on him!
Styles: So...I guess that's the match? I have no idea.
NH: Yeah, that's it. Because we're going to—
[Backstage. Death was walking down a hallway.]
StJS: They always said Death was a bitch.
[Death turned around. Right into a punch.]
StJS: Didn't know he was such a big bitch.
Styles: Death and Sarah are beating the hell out of each other backstage! Oh my! Death crushes Sarah against the wall. Sarah with a kick that sends Death flying against the opposite wall! Sarah charges!
NH: They just crashed out the back door of the Stage.
Styles: And they're punching away on each other. They trade punch for punch. This is—
[Death and Sarah stop mid-punch and look at the door that just closed shut behind them. Sarah walks up to the door.]
StJS: Uh...where are the handles?
[Sarah and Death look at each other. They shrug and wander away.]
Since 2000, we haven't had a sex scandal in the White House!
We haven't had a domestic terror attack that we've allowed to happen since Sept. 12, 2001!
Oil prices have NEVER been lower!
We easily won the War on Terror, and continue to win it EVERY DAY!
Everything is GREAT in New Orleans!
Believe the lies! Vote Republican!
Hey, we're gonna steal the election anyway!
The preceding has been paid for FAUX News, news unfair and unbalanced. Fuckyouall.
["I Don't Like The Drugs (But The Drugs Like Me)" by Marilyn Manson plays, and it's main event time, kids.]
MV: This is our main event. Introducing first. From Heaven. Kurt Angel!
Crowd: YOU'RE STONED! YOU'RE STONED! YOU'RE STONED! YOU'RE STONED!
Styles: The glassy-eyed, parody sports entertaining angel is here!
SW: Why does he walk around with that dirty hypodermic needle? That really disturbs me.
NH: I can't wait to see Kurt, Sarah and Little Good tear apart your dumb little group.
SW: Dumb? We are the brains of BOB. We book the shows that get over analyzed, satired and torn apart all over the Web!
NH: A satire of BOB? That must be scary.
["Rising Sun" plays next.]
MV: And his opponents. From the most rocking part of Parts Unknown. Representing the Skull & Bones Society, Kay Fabe and Seth Harker.
[Wachowski. It's a way of life. Embrace it. Seth and Kay do their slow motion walk down the aisle, both wearing all black and matching sunglasses. Both are even wearing the same hair thingee to pull their hair back. Ain't that sweet.]
SW: Wow, two totally different and totally bitching entrances by Harker and Fabe. We are blessed.
NH: Aren't the heels supposed to come out first?
SW: Please. Kurt is obviously the heel.
NH: Then why did the crowd cheer for him?
SW: Because the people here are idiots. That's why.
Styles: Angel looks ready for this.
SW: I hope he didn't do PCP before this match, or Seth and Kay are in trouble.
NH: I think he's mostly doing the softer drugs these days.
SW: Well, if he's roid raging, I'm gonna call in for backups.
Styles: I guess Kay and Seth are going to tag in and out. Harker and Angel to start us off here. Harker has been having his problems with Little Good lately.
SW: Yeah, it's almost like we're leading up to a BOB-On-Demand tag team match between these three and with Little Good thrown in the mix.
Styles: Harker charges. Overhead belly to belly suplex by Angel! Angel charges. Clothesline! Angel connects with some hard punches. Uppercut by Angel! He's got Harker cornered. He's just punching away on Harker! But Harker with that deadly one-inch punch.
SW: Heidi is a big fan of the five-inch punch.
NH: Five inches? Sorry, my eyes aren't bigger than my—
Styles: Heidi, please! Flying side kick by Harker. Tag in to Kay. Kay picks up Angel. Oh, what a spinebuster. Kay is putting the boots to Angel here.
Styles: Kay with a belly to, uh, breasts suplex.
Styles: Well it was! Cover! One! No. Kay with some more stomps. But Angel grabs her ankle! He's got the Angel Lock on Kay!
SW: But here comes Seth to her rescue.
Styles: Yep. Angel eats about ten inches of imitation leather from Harker's boots. Harker and Kay both stomping on Angel now. They drag him up. Whip to the ropes. Double clothesline misses! DOUBLE BELLY TO BACK SUPLEX! Oh my GOD!
SW: Crap! No normal human could do that. He's gotta be on something. Trey! Get everybody out here! Pronto!
NH: You're gonna rob the people of a fair outcome?
SW: And you're surprised that a sports entertainment company would end a show on a DQ? Where have you been living for the last ten years?
Styles: Angel punches Seth down. And a punch sends Kay to the mat. He's got her locked into the Angel Lock again! Will she tap out before the Skull & Bones Society can run in and cause the DQ?
[Trey Vincent, John Skeeter and Steve Leary charge down the aisle.]
SW: Woohoo! Fustercluck! Fustercluck!
Styles: I guess not. The Skull & Bones tackle Angel. Oh man. They are just pounding away on him.
SW: Yeah! Cave in his skull!
NH: Man, Seth just broke out into hysterics. Is he OK?
SW: I don't know. Yes! Leary with a leg drop! That was the best leg drop I've ever seen! Skeeter's about ready to fly! YES! Elbow drop from the top!
Styles: This sucks. Why do you have to ruin the main event every week?
SW: We're heels, überfuckwit.
[The crowd cheers as Little Good, Coma, Hallucination Boy and Pete Trable are running down the aisle.]
SW: Damnit! They can't come down here.
NH: And there they go. Looks like the good guys aren't gonna bend over and take it like men.
SW: Oh, they will. Before they know it, they'll drop their bar of soap, and then we'll strike. Count on it.
Styles: Kurt, Little Good, Coma, Hallucination Boy and Pete Trable have saved Kurt Angel.
SW: But where's Sarah, Styles? Huh? Where's everybody's hero?
Styles: She got locked out of the building.
SW: Oh, whatever. Keep making excuses. Her time is almost over.
[Back outside, Sarah and Death were sitting in the parking lot outside the Real Sheep Stage. A checkerboard was between them. The sun was just beginning to rise.]
Death But I'm always black.
StJS: I'll 'I'm-always-black" you.
Death: What does that even mean?
StJS: Why I oughta. *Half-hearted fist shake*
Death: I so am gonna kill you.
StJS: Did you say kill me, or king me.
[Sarah jumps one of her black pieces over a couple of Death's red pieces.]
Death: Crap. I'm much better at chess.
StJS: Sorry. Never learned how to play.
Death: I could teach you.
StJS: Do you have a chess board?
Death: Oh. No.
StJS: This is all your fault you know.
StJS: You stole my friends from me. You almost stole my title from me. I am filled with anger and the urge to shop excessively to cope with my pain. But my credit cards are soooo almost maxed out.
StJS: Because I am the Slayer, I've had to distance myself from my friends and my family. But now I live in a world of jobbers and robots and entities from other dimensions. And it's all I have now.
Death: Silly girl, you don't have any creative control. You have no shot of winning. Our match at Go-Go. Or even this game of checkers.
StJS: What are you talking about? I just won.
Death: Well I...crap!
StJS: Play again?
Death: *Sigh* I guess.
Death: What are you waiting for?
StJS: Sorry. I had gas.
Death: If I had eyes, I would so have rolled them just now. The male viewers look to you to be sexy. You can't have gas.
StJS: Why? Is it so hard for people to grasp the idea that sometimes I have to let one rip?
StJS: Just because I pass gas, does that make me less sexy? I mean, would their basking in the greatness of me be tarnished by this revelation? Do you hear me?
Death: Sadly, yes.
StJS: I fart in the dark, when nobody is there. And I am alone.
Death: Thank God for small favors.
StJS: But after I fart, there is silence. There is nothing for me, Death. Just my title.
Death: Most people never reflect about the futility of working for BOB and being a sports entertainer.
StJS: My life has been a futile pursuit, a wandering, a great deal of interviews without meaning. I feel no bitterness or self-reproach because the lives of most parody sports entertainers are very much like this.
Death: Are we still playing checkers here? I do have other things I could be doing instead of listening to you philosophize.
StJS: *Laughs* I am so incredibly tired.
Death: And just because I'm playing checkers with you doesn't mean I hate you any less. So...so hate you.
StJS: Yeah. Me too. Total hate here.
Death: Hate you.
StJS: Hate you more.
Death: Gonna kill you.
StJS: Uh-huh. Your move.
© 2005 BOB Wrestling. King me!