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Sunday Morning Chloroform 35

[We open with a shot of a door. 1147. Inside, we find a smoke-filled room. douja is laying on one bed, Rob Van Spam is laying on the other bed, and Kurt Angel is slumped in a chair.]

Clive: Hey guys. You ready for your promo, eh?

RVS: Dood, be quiet. *Sniff* We're watching "The Lake House" on pay-per-view.

Kurt Angel: If I wasn't so stoned right now, I'd so be beating your ass, buster. Hehehehe.

douja: *Zzzzzzzz*

Clive: douja? Don't you want to talk about your big main event this morning, eh?

douja: shut up ya canadian bitch. ya dont come in here disturbin' da sleep of the BOB LEGEND CHAMPION. (He holds up the unrecognized custom-made title belt.) if I didnt post a message in da forums what makes ya think im gonna make a promo now? ... yeah dat's right... i didn't post a rant an' ill still beat that cracka ass cracka. I BURN TREES LIKE FOREST FIRES AND I WILL WHOOP MMR1s ASS! IF YA SMELL WHAT DOUJA IS SMOKIN'!

Clive: Kurt. What about your match this morning, eh?

KA: I have a match? With who?

Clive: Seth Harker.

KA: Hmm. Well, I am the greatest fallen angel turned wrestler of this generation. I guess I am gonna have to deliver some torment to Mr. Harker. And Seth, just for the record, myself from two years ago just told me that in two years on this VERY date that I would whoop your ass all over Sin City. Back then, I thought I was just having another of my frequent drug-induced hallucinations. But now...now I am not so sure. Maybe we have veered into the eighth dimension. And this morning, the past meets the present in the future. All I know is I am going to win the OWTTM tournament. Not FALSE. So DAMN not FALSE!

[Kurt headbutts the camera.]

Clive: Eh? What the hell?

KA: Interview over.

RVS: Whoa, hold on. I've got some things to say about MY match against Patrick Fitzgerald. Take Levitra and your girl will be pleased. Babe fucks her honry sister with a dildo. Shy moms turn into real bangin machines. Only you vs. the chance. Because I'm Rob Van Spam. Mr. Sunday Morning. Everybody's favorite spammer.

Sunday Morning Chloroform Logo

Where Wrestling Goes To Die!

[We open with a shot of a moderately enthused crowd being amused by The Flunky whirling two flashlights all around the BOB Ballroom in the Riviera Hotel.]

Mike Monroe: Hello everyone, and welcome to Sunday Morning Chloroform.

Scotty Whatbody: Say, Mike, what should you do if you come across an elephant?

MM: I don't think we'll have that problem here in Sin City, Scotty.

SW: I know that. But seriously, what should you do if you come across an elephant?

MM: What?

SW: Apologize and wipe it off! BWAHAHAHA! Oh, you walked right into that one, didn't you jackass? BWAHAHAHA!

MM: And we're off and running on another craptacular edition of Sunday Morning Chloroform.

SW: Any word on if we beat "The Jeffersons" reruns last week?

MM: Almost. But we finally beat "The Twilight Zone."

SW: Figures. Well, this is pretty much like the twilight zone anyway.

MM: Fans, this morning, we've got seven huge matches for you as we move toward Living In Sin exclusively on BOB-On-Demand, where we'll be crowning a new ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, Swiss Army Belt and T&A XX Division champions.

SW: Yep. Let the endless walk toward the stupid volcano begin.

MM: I'm sure you meant the epic walk toward Middle Earth?

SW: No, I meant what I meant.

MM: We'll be right back with Death taking on Hallucination Boy.


Styles: Promotional consideration paid for by the following:

Fuqing Community Association of Canada

Send more virgins, eh?

Not to be confused with the French-Greek organization Phuque Ewe.


Axl Van Halen

[We return to the BOB Ballroom. The crowd... what little there is... have filled up on drinks from the concession stand, so they're abuzz. Well... buzzed, at least, so hopefully we'll get more of a reaction than usual. We pan over to the entry way, where Metal God, and leader of the Rock-O-Lution, Axl VanHalen, is standing in front of a live microphone, holding a guitar, with personal assistant Tifa Bon Jovi on drums. God help us all...]

Axl: Are you ready, Detroit Rock City?!?!?!?

Fan: This ISN'T Detroit. And half of us don't even like rock! I'm fond of polka myself...

Axl: ... Then baby, let's get ready to ROCK!!! As you all know, I've been touring America, with my first stop being in my very own home city of Nowhere, Oklahoma. This morning, I'm performing in front of you, the BoB faithful. I've got an awesomely radical song, that I'm devoting to the number one seed in the OWTTM tournament. I call it "Touch of Death". Death... this one's for you.

Axl: B-b-b-b-b-baby, it's been a while
Been a while since you've been on top
M-m-m-m-m-maybe, now is the time
Now is the time you made them drop-

Axl: Drop before your feet, babe, that's where they belong
Look into my eyes, babe, as I sing this song
They think it's all over, but oh are they wrong
Death... this is your day. How do I look in this thong!

Axl: They better watch out, they better be quick-
T-t-t-t-t-t-touch of Death!
They better look out, they better hide fast-
T-t-t-t-t-t-touch of Death!
This is YOUR time, this is YOUR day-
T-t-t-t-t-t-touch of Death!
They better hide, babe, get out of your way
T-t-t-t-t-t-touch of Death!

[Death walks out, followed by Uber Vampire Warrior and Lord Athackkimentham. The trio straight out of a horror film stares at the band curiously and heads down the aisle.]

Axl: B-b-b-b-b-baby, this morning you will
You will get inside that ring
I-i-i-i-i know you're, gonna be ready
Gonna be ready to do your thing

Axl: They'll get into your face, babe, think they're really tough
Think they got a chance, babe, but they ain't got enough
Think they've got it easy, but dude, they've got it rough
When they step in front of you, all it takes... is the TOUCH!

Axl: They better watch out, they better be quick-
T-t-t-t-t-t-touch of Death!
They better look out, they better hide fast-
T-t-t-t-t-t-touch of Death!
This is YOUR time, this is YOUR day-
T-t-t-t-t-t-touch of Death!
They better hide, babe, get out of your way
T-t-t-t-t-t, T-t-t-t-t-t,

Axl: Touch of DEATH! Thank you! Thank you Baltimore!

[The sound of crickets can be heard in the distance... a pin drops, and a few members of the audience yawn. Death gives Axl the "rock-n-roll hand gesture"...no, not the middle finger, the one with the two fingers up like devil horns, you know what I mean...]

Axl: Thank you, thank, I love you all!!! You guys are too much! Enjoy the show!

Fan: You suck.

[Axl lifts his fists into the air, with the "Rock On" sign on both. Tifa rolls her eyes, before tapping on the cymbal.]

Tifa: This is going to be a long, LONG tour...

SW: Man, I wonder what he did with the money.

MM: What money?

SW: The money for singing lessons. He sucks! And how about that Lord Atkawacka? That's guys name is a mouthful. Can't we just call him Kim for short.

MM: He doesn't look like he has a big sense of humor. You might be endangering yourself.

SW: Yeah, probably.

MM: Is this the new Skull & Bones Society?

SW: It looks like it. Last week there was a definite break in the Bones. I'd say Steve Studnuts, Seth Harker and the rest of them are moving on to different things. I do hope the iAd will patch up their ways. Get these guys together at an drunken orgy and they'll be fine again.

Nurse Heidi: The opening contest is an opening round match in the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS tournament. Introducing first, already in the ring. From the Netherworld. This, is, Death!

["Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne plays.]

NH: Introducing first. One-half of the Not Good Enough To Fight Alone Tag Team Champions, this is Hallucination Boy!

SW: Oh yeah, by the way fans, on that OTHER channel, you're only missing the one when George jumps at the chance of getting a street kid to work for him at half price, but finds it’s costing him more than he bargained for. Us? We're totally NEW this week! The only first-run show on cable TV this week!

MM: Coma and Hallucination Boy are the longest reigning tag team champions in the history of BOB, Scotty.

SW: Yeah, but considering BOB was on hiatus for about 95 percent of 2006, that isn't saying much. Which is what you're best at saying, Mikey.

MM: We're ready to get this one underway. And the odds don't look to be in Hallucination Boy's favor.

SW: That's what the gynecologist told Hallucination Boy's retarded mother. BWAHAHAHA!

MM: Knee lift by Death. And another one. And another one. Death has Hallucination Boy trapped in the corner, but Hallucination Boy avoids an elbow shot to the head. Rolling hug by Hallucination Boy.

SW: Is that supposed to make him dizzy, or just make Death really uncomfortable?

MM: I'd guess a bit of both. Death pushes away and heads to the floor. But lookout, here comes Hallucination Boy. Baseball slide bite connects.

SW: He's biting skull. I don't think that'll do much damage.

MM: Now Death heads back inside. Look out. Clothesline handspring drive by Hallucination Boy. And who would have imagined Hallucination Boy doing this well against Death. Oh, and there's a face swing. Half brain jawbreaker.

SW: Now that's a fitting move by Hallucination Boy. Though saying he has half a brain might be giving too much credit.

MM: Hallucination Boy picks up Death. Whip to the ropes.

HB: TRAIN! *Dives*

[Hallucination Boy gets up as Death rebounds off the ropes.]

HB: TRAIN! *Dives*

MM: Uh-oh. Death waiting on Hallucination Boy to get up. Big bony foot to the face.

SW: Now arriving, the Death Express. Next stop, winning the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS.

MM: Sideslam by Death. He just motioned to Uber Vamp, who's getting up on the apron with his goblet of that red liquid.

SW: What, the blood? I wonder if he got that from his wife...

MM: That's disgusting, Scotty.

SW: It's probably unrealistic. I highly doubt Luna Vachon has ever had a period in her life.

MM: The Lord is in the ring as Death and Uber Vamp have Generic Ref distracted.

Death: You sure you don't want a sip? It's good for you?

GR: Hmm. Nah, I shouldn't. I'm on the job.

MM: Oh no. What a vicious vertebreaker that was.

SW: Holy crap! That's gonna cause Hallucination Boy some PAIN!

MM: Lord Athackkimentham rolls out of the ring like the snake he is, leaving the body for Death. Death trying to pick up Hallucination Boy, who might be seriously injured here.

[The fans erupt as Coma runs down to ringside. Coma is shirtless, with a yellow sun painted on his belly and two white crosses painted on his chest. He pats his belly as he jogs down toward the ring.]

MM: It's Comala, the Ugandan Giant. And he's just repelled Uber Vamp with the sun and those crosses. But Lord Athackkimentham is going right after Comala.

SW: Oh yeah! Netherworld Powerbomb on Hallucination Boy.

MM: One. Two. Three.

NH: Here is your winner, Death!

MM: Death gets the win, as Coma and Lord Athackkimentham are brawling around the outside. Uber Vamp continues to back away from Comala.

SW: Oh, stop calling him that! He's not a giant. He's not even from Uganda.

MM: He might be. Uganda is pretty close to Parts Forgotten.

SW: I'll forget you...

MM: Oh, Death just broke his scythe over Comala's back. And Comala is down. Death just grabbed the microphone from Nurse Heidi and is heading to the ring.

SW: I hope he tells some of his new jokes. They're killer!

Death: You know...there's a lot of young punks walking around BOB like they own the joint. But just so everybody here in Sin City, and everybody back there knows, God's Hitman is running things around here. And just so it's all nice and official, you are looking at the new and improved Skull & Bones Society. Uber Vampire Warrior!

[Uber Vamp spits blood in the air.]

Death: Lord Athackkimentham!

[Lord A spits the dreaded black mist from his throat. You know, the kind of mist that can blind white trash valets for a few weeks.]

Death: And me, that cool cat, Death (he says, raising his bony fist in the air). And just like Morrison said, no one here gets out alive. Gonna win, yeah, we're takin' over. Come on!

["Killed by Death" plays again as the Skull & Bones Society mugs for the booing crowd. Elsewhere, we head backstage to see that Misty Waters is stretching.]

MW: Hey, you gotta buy me dinner before you get that close to my crotch, pal.

MM: Misty Waters takes on Nurse Heidi, NEXT!

SW: WOOHOO!


Living In Sin

It'll be the most star-studded Living In Sin in Living In Sin history!


Styles: The following contest is an opening round match in the T&A XX Division tournament. And it will be an EXTREME Microphone on a Pole match. Introducing first. *Ahem* The Pole. Originally from Warsaw, Poland, and now living right here in Sin City, please welcome Krysta Majewski!

SW: Oh, baby! That's the hot chick from the front desk!

MM: Oh, that's the one who slapped you earlier?

SW: Yep, that's her. She got all offended because I thought she was Jewish.

MM: Oh?

SW: Well, it sounds like she'd be Jewish. I mean, it'd be like if some chick had the last name Jewsteinberg, and she was a Christian or whatever. She's the same deal.

MM: Well, Generic Ref is giving Krysta her instructions. Apparently they involve sitting on the top turnbuckle. This stipulation for the microphone came about as a result of last week, when Nurse Heidi hit Misty Waters with the microphone and then eliminated her from the Battle Royale.

[There is a small "show your tits" chant from the crowd. Styles unbuttons his shirt and slowly reveals a hairy nipple.]

SW: Ewww. I don't think they were talking to him. No wonder he got demoted.

Styles: Introducing first, Nurse Heidi!

["Centerfold" by J. Geils Band plays and Heidi bounces toward the ring.]

SW: I love to see Heidi coming.

MM: Yes, we all know, Scotty.

Styles: And her opponent. From Buttzville, New Jersey, Misty Waters!

["Fuck and Run" by Liz Phair plays. Misty walks slowly walks down the aisle.]

SW: Damn. The look on her face tells me that Misty's Aunt Flow must be visiting. Her hormones are out of control.

MM: Generic Ref is wrapping the microphone around Krysta's neck. Apparently one of these two women will have to scale to the top of, uh...

SW: Krysta's cans.

MM: Right. Use of the microphone as a weapon will be legal.

SW: Or a pleasure device. What? They could get horny mid-match...

MM: I doubt that will happen with you out here. Heidi ducks an onrushing Misty clothesline. Heidi with some punches staggers Misty. Oh, Heidi just drove Misty's face into her knees for a jawbreaker of sorts. And now Heidi's heading up top.

SW: A woman on top is always a good thing.

MM: Not for Misty Waters. Top rope elbow drop connects.

SW: Speaking of pleasure devices, you know why Polish women don't use vibrators?

MM: Oh no...

SW: It chips their teeth! BWAHAHAHA!

MM: Heidi with a hip toss. She is in total control of this match. But Misty's fighting back. Oh, there's a dropkick. Misty desperately needs to get back in this match.

SW: Hey, are you hearing this, Mike?

MM: No, what?

SW: I'm being told there's an update on that 747 that crashed into a cemetery in Poland. Apparently, Polish officials have so far retrieved 2000 bodies! BWAHAHAHA!

MM: Misty with a chop.

Crowd: Woooo!

MM: But Heidi punches right back. And now both girls are punching each other. This is getting heated.

Styles: (From ringside) CAT FIGHT! CAT FIIIIIIIIIGHT!

SW: Speaking of heated, did you hear about the Polish family that froze to death outside a theater? They were waiting to see the movie "Closed for the Winter." BWAHAHAHA!

MM: And Krysta ONLY slapped you earlier? Meanwhile, we do have a good match going on here. Inverted atomic drop by Misty. And she follows that up with a suplex. Oh, it looks like Misty is going to try and get the microphone from around Krysta's neck.

SW: Want to see something funny?

MM: Sure, since I haven't been hearing anything funny.

SW: HI KRYSTA!

[Krysta waves at Scotty and falls off the turnbuckle onto Misty.]

SW: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

MM: That was one hell of an accidental DDT that Misty just suffered. It's giving Heidi the chance to get the microphone. Heidi drags up Misty by the hair. Inverted DDT. Meanwhile, Generic Ref is helping Krysta back up into place.

SW: Oh yeah. Here goes Heidi go get the microphone.

MM: She's on the first rope. Now she's on the second rope. She's got her hand on the microphone. But Misty is up!

*SMACK*

Crowd: Wooo!

SW: Spanktastic!

*SMACK*

Crowd: Wooo!

*SMACK*

Crowd: Wooo!

SW: She's playing a little butt bongo here, Mikey.

MM: Uh oh. Misty going for a powerbomb on Heidi from the top rope? But Heidi is holding onto Krysta with a bear hug.

[Misty finally is able to take Heidi down with a powerbomb, but in the process, Heidi gives Krysta a belly to belly suplex.]

MM: Oh my. All the women are down after that one.

SW: That reminds of the tragedy in Poland the other day. Poland's largest shopping mall had a power outage. People were stuck on the escalators for four hours!

MM: And now Heidi and Misty are both yanking at the microphone. Who is going to get it?

*RIIIIIIIIIP*

SW: Oh baby!

MM: Neither one got a microphone, but both ladies got half of Krysta's top.

SW: I love the T&A division!

MM: Heidi goes for the microphone. But Misty grabs Heidi. Tornado DDT by Misty. This may be it here, Scotty. Yes, it's the Misty Mountain Stomp.

SW: This is way sexier than the Garvin Stomp ever was back in the day.

MM: Cover! One! Two! Three! Misty wins and advances in the tournament.

[Meanwhile, in the lobby of the Riviera Hotel a man walked in. He was wearing all black, including a black luchadore mask with several "?" all over the mask.]

MM: Who is that ?Masked Man?

SW: Oh, don't make a big deal. He's probably just here for the Witness Protection Program convention.

MM: I don't know Scotty. He's heading this way.

SW: Where else is he supposed to head? Back outside?

MM: Fans, we'll be right back, and maybe we'll find out what this ?Masked Man? in black has in store for BOB this morning.


Styles: The following contest is an opening round match of the Swiss Army Belt tournament.

SW: Aw, Heidi isn't back yet?

MM: I'd imagine she needs some time to recover from the match with Misty.

SW: Riiiight. Because this isn't all fake.

["Traditional Irish Folk Song" by Denis Leary plays.]

Styles: Introducing first, uh...Patrick Fitzgerald!

SW: Uhh? Uhh? Can we fire Styles now? He's making BOB look, well, worse than it already is.

[Patrick walks down the aisle smoking a cigarette. He rolls into the ring and rips the microphone from Styles.]

PF: Oy! Whut's tha big idea?

Styles: Sorry, you don't have a bio up on the Website.

PF: Ya know whut? Yare really pissin' me off!

MM: Oh no. Patrick is choking Styles with his own tie.

PF: Ya know whut that makes me feel like doin'? Fightin'!

MM: Hey, Rob Van Spam is up on the top rope. Oh, a sexually explicit leaping kick right to Patrick's head.

SW: Aww, I wanted to see Styles get beat up. Wait, a WHAT?

MM: That's what RVS wants to call it. He has this whole new list of names for all his moves.

SW: Let me see that. Oh, good lord, I can't wait to hear you call this match for once.

MM: RVS connects with a second sexually explicit leaping kick.

SW: Great. Ten seconds in, and he's already repeating spots. Must be 'cause he's so used to botching them the first time.

MM: Patrick is whipped into the ropes. Nice roll through Boston gangbang crab.

SW: Yeah, apparently you're confusing the word "nice" with "sloppy" again.

MM: RVS pulls up Patrick. There's an big skuirt arm wringer. And there are some hardcored kicks to Patrick's body. Oh, and there are some older slut forearm shots to Patrick's back.

SW: Getting hit from behind is nothing new for Fitzgerald. Trust me.

MM: Irish whip on the Irishman. RVS goes the opposite way. Both men go flying.

Crowd: You fucked up! You fucked up! You fucked up!

SW: Wow. That was just beyond pathetic. Both guys missed each other by a mile with whatever in the hell they were trying. What's the opposite of chemistry? Because these guys have that.

MM: RVS connects with that play and win kick. And there's a horni German suplex. Fitzgerald has been a little behind since being jumped at the start.

SW: Eh, maybe he's enjoying having RVS's body rubbing up against him and he's just trying to extend the pleasure.

MM: A truly disgusting thought. Punches by RVS. And there is a busty brunette bulldog. RVS off the ropes. It's a rolling miss, whatever it was. And here comes Patrick with a clothesline from Ireland. He almost decapitated RVS with that one.

SW: He would've done us all a favor if he succeeded.

MM: Fitzgerald pulls up RVS. Spin punch. Hard body shots. And there's a DDT. Fitzgerald wants to fight some more. He pulls up RVS. Stiff kick. But RVS hits a stiff kick of his own.

SW: You did say "stiff kick," right? That wasn't one of the spam names?

MM: Right. Chop by Fitzgerald.

Crowd: Wooo!

MM: And again.

Crowd: Woooo!

MM: Fitzgerald off the ropes. Oh boy...

Crowd: You fucked up again! You fucked up again! You fucked up again!

SW: If I wanted to say this many blown spots, I'd pop in the best of Jeff Hardy DVD that's keeping my kitchen table level. RVS vs. Fitzgerald, take three!

MM: RVS with a we have located many horny women in your area whip to the corner on Fitzgerald. RVS powers Fitzgerald up. There's an iPod waiting for you fallaway slam from the top rope connects.

SW: I always feared the day my television started getting spammed. And I'm not talking in a when your drunken father hurls a piece of meat at you to show you affection kind of way.

MM: RVS heading up top. Oh, he didn't get all of that video p0ker moonsault.

SW: What gave it away? When he landed on his head on Fitzpatrick? I feel like I'm calling a match at a wrestling school.

MM: Cover. One. Two. No. Fitzgerald whipped to the ropes, but he rebounds with a shouldertackle. RVS back up. And that clothesline takes both men to the floor.

SW: How did these guys get so much time for this match? Flunky, get the hook.

MM: Both guys pulling themselves back inside. And here they go again. Look at these guys exchange punches, kicks and--

Crowd: Woooo!

MM: A chop. Fitzgerald with a takedown. Irish crab.

SW: I had the Irish crabs once before. It was worth it. Except for the next couple of weeks, because when I pissed, it looked like a rainbow.

MM: Please, Scotty. RVS manages to get to the ropes. He kicks Patrick away. This is some stiff action here as both men continue to punch, kick and chop away at each other.

Crowd: Woooo! Woooo! Wooooo!

SW: Good night. These guys are both beating the hell out of each other. I love it! Look at how bruised RVS's chest is getting.

Crowd: Wooooo!

MM: Punches and chops, punches and chops. Fitzgerald whips RVS to the corner. Clothesline.

SW: Ewww, a bearhug from the Irish Fag. I'd tap out if I was RVS.

MM: Fitzgerald slams RVS down. Cover. One. Two. No. And both guys continue to pound the heck out of each other with punches and chops.

Crowd: Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooooo!

MM: RVS just dropped Fitzgerald with that super pill elbow to the face. He's heading up top.

SW: Well, that was...something. Why is it he keeps trying to hit moves from the top rope? Highspot monkey, emphasis on the HIGH. Oh, don't tell me he's going to try the split-legged moonsault again. That hasn't worked ever.

MM: And RVS crotches himself, attempting the move. PF with a blatant choke. RVS with a blatant premium cigars eye poke. RVS grabs Fitzgerald and whips him through the turnbuckles, shoulder first into the steel post. RVS heads up to the, uh, bottom rope. One-star frog splash. Cover. One. Two. Three.

["Walk (Monty Python 'Spam' Remix)" by Pantera plays.]

Styles: Here is your winner. Rob. Van. Spam!

[Meanwhile, just outside of the BOB Ballroom, Nurse Heidi was seen talking to the mysterious ?Masked Man?]

MM: Look at this, Scotty. Now what do you think?

SW: I bet he's just telling Heidi that's he's black all over. I've used that routine before.

MM: *Sigh* Fans, we'll be right back.


DJ RawkusMC Carjack

[Cut to a small apartment. Two guys are sitting in front of a television.]

DJ Rawkus: Yoizzle, arentizzle wezzle spostizzle dizzle azzle promizzle forizzle BOBizzle thizzle weekizzle?

MC Carjack: Nahizzle, letsizzle dozzle itizzle nextizzle weekizzle.

DJR: Okizzle.

Caption: Lay-Z...Coming soon...er...eventually to BOB!

Styles: The following contest is an opening round match in the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS tournament. Introducing first...

["Rising Sun" by Bexta plays.]

Styles: From Parts Unknown. He weighs 217 pounds. Seth, Harker!

[The camera goes all Wachoski for Seth, as he slow walks down the aisle. In slow motion, Seth no-sells a cup of beer hitting him square in the face. Once he hits the ring and his song cuts off, we return to normal mode.]

SW: Gee, it looks like a certain redhead chick isn't accompanying her love to the ring. Must be trouble in parts unknown.

MM: That's true. There is no Kay Fabe here this morning.

SW: Steve Skeet.

MM: What was that?

SW: Nothing. Just testing a theory.

MM: Is that John Skeet's brother?

SW: Yeah, sure, Monroe.

["I Don't Like The Drugs (But The Drugs Like Me)" by Marilyn Manson plays."]

Styles: And his opponent. From Heaven, weighing 220 pounds. This is Kurt Angel.

Crowd: YOU'RE STONED! YOU'RE STONED! YOU'RE STONED!

MM: These two are no strangers to each other. They had quite a few matches in recent BOB episodes.

SW: The one where Kay was dressed as a cavegirl was the best. She looked so hot.

MM: And here we go. Harker tries to get the early advantage with a kick, but Kurt catches him. But Harker recovers with an enzugeri. Harker with a quick headlock, Angel reverses out with some headscissors. Both men are up to their feet. Harker with a headlock takeover, Angel again with headscissors and both men spring to their feet.

SW: Oh, I'm so impressed with that. I want blood or naked chicks, not good wrestling!

MM: You should go work for Women's Xtreme Wrestling.

SW: I tried. Believe me. But my audition tapes all involved this dump.

MM: Harker with a spin kick that dazes Angel. And there's a go-behind. But Angel with an elbow shot breaks free. Angel locks on a sleeper and body scissors.

SW: Oh, come on, he already needs a rest spot?

MM: But Harker drives Angel into the turnbuckles. There's a chop.

Crowd: Wooooo!

MM: Angel tries to get away, but Harker charges and connects with a heel kick. Cover. One. No. Angel comes up punching. And there's a German suplex by Angel.

SW: What is that armband Harker's wearing? Does that say TV?

MM: It looks like it.

SW: Wow, Harker must be dedicating this match to the memory of his old Mystery Sports Entertainment Theater 3000 partner, Trey Vincent. The man who is now been in a coma for, what, eight months or something?

MM: Sounds about right. Check out these reversals by Angel and Harker. This is wrestling.

SW: Yeah, I'm surprised Angel can be so competent when he's stoned.

Crowd: Wooo!

MM: Harker follows up that chop with some stiff kicks to Angel's legs and midsection. Harker charges, but Angel with a back body drop. Angel grabs Harker's ankle. It's the Angel Lock. But Harker reverses into a small package. One, two, reverse into a small package by Angel. One, two, and now Harker reverses. And Angel. And Harker...

[Angel and Harker begin rolling around in a circle while maintaining the small package.]

SW: This is about as exciting as NASCAR, Monroe. Does anybody have a checkered flag?

MM: Finally, both men break free. Harker with a chop. But Angel grabs Harker and dumps him with a fireman's carry. Dropkick by Angel. Angel grabs Harker's leg, but Harker spins around behind Angel.

SW: Damn, how is Harker not dizzy after all this spinning?

MM: Angel gets behind Harker. It's a German suplex. Angel holds on. A second German suplex. Angel again holds on. There's a third German suplex. And he's still holding on.

Crowd: FOUR!

MM: And another.

Crowd: FIVE!

MM: And another.

Crowd: SIX!

MM: And one more.

Crowd: SEVEN!

MM: And there it is, Seven Heavenly German Suplexes. Angel pulls up Harker and brings him to the corner. Harker with a punch. And a chop.

Crowd: Wooo!

MM: But Angel with an uppercut. He lifts up Harker to the top. Overhead belly to belly suplex from the top. This could be it. But we've got to take a break, so we'll find out if this is it when we come back.

SW: WTF?


Living in Sin

Don't waste that money on lottery tickets. Waste it on our show!


SW: It wasn't.

MM: Welcome back to Sunday Morning Chloroform. Seth Harker has managed to turn the tables during the break as you can see and now has Kurt Angel locked in an elevated Boston crab.

SW: The Walls of Harker? Nah, that just doesn't have the right ring to it. How about, the Lesbian Tamer? I like that!

MM: Whoa. Somehow, Angel was able to reverse into a sunset flip. One. Two. Harker grabs the rope with both hands. Both men are up. Angel's Wings connects. But both men are exhausted.

SW: What do you expect? These guys haven't had a match in a year. And a GOOD match in years.

MM: Angel finally makes the cover. One. Two. Harker gets a shoulder up. Both men struggling to get up. They unload some hard punches. Angel with a belly to belly, but somehow Harker landed on his feet. He charges off the ropes and delivers an flying elbow shot to Angel's face.

*SMACK*

SW: Damn, Harker with an ultra-stiff kick there.

MM: And Kurt didn't like it one bit. He's up and he grabs Harker.

SW: Looks like the PCP is kicking in for Kurt.

MM: Angel with a superplex from the heavens. Now Angel locks in a headlock and body scissors. Harker needs to get to the ropes. Harker fighting it...he's rolling over. Kurt is holding on. Harker extends a foot and Angel has to break the hold. Uh-oh. Now Kurt is just choking Harker on the rope. Now Kurt with a cover. One. Two. No.

SW: Angel is sure getting frustrated now. He'll have to get extra stoned after this one.

MM: Angel hooks Harker. Angel hits a suplex. Now he drops an elbow. One. Two. But Harker grabs the ropes again. Oh, Kurt just snapped. Now he's just punching Harker.

SW: Oh, I've seen crazier. Remember that time he did all that coke before the show and he came out and started beating up kids in the clown suit.

MM: No, Scotty, I think I'd remember something like that.

SW: Oh, right, you weren't employed by BOB at that time. BWAHAHAHA. Ah, good times.

MM: Now Kurt has a front face lock cinched in. Angel continues to try and wear down Harker. But Harker is fighting his way up. Punches. And there's a knee lift.

SW: Ha, he's about to hit Kay's Bottom on Angel.

MM: But Angel elbows Harker repeatedly in the head to break the attempt.

SW: What will we see next. Kay Fabe doing a Shooting Kay Press? Man, if these two get married, then get divorced, they'll have to split their movesets 50-50.

MM: Angel hooks Harker for a suplex. Harker just raked Angel's eyes while he was being held up for the suplex. Oh, twisting DDT by Harker. What a reversal.

SW: Right about now, if we had a competent referee, he'd be doing the standing 10 count deal, but hey...just a small detail, right?

MM: I'm sure it's just a case of giving the fans what they want. They want winners and losers.

SW: Yeah, I'm sure that's it, Mikey.

MM: Both men are up. But not for long, What an STO by Harker. And it looks like Harker is ready to fly. Harker's up top. Shooting Seth Press.

SW: BWAHAHAHA!

MM: Angel moved just in time. And Harker crashed to the mat. Angel with a quick cover. One. Two. Thr-no. How did Harker kick out?

SW: I don't have time to give you a physiology lesson, Monroe. Just call the match.

MM: Kurt hooks Harker for a second Angel's Wings. No. Harker gets his arms free. Now he's got Angel over his shoulder.

SW: Hey, it looks like he's about to use Trey Vincent's old finisher, Coming Down! Why is he stealing everybody's moves here this morning?

MM: I thought you said it this match was being dedicated to the memory of Trey?

SW: That doesn't sound like something I'd say. YOWZA! Harker just planted Angel with that move.

MM: Harker heading up top again.

SW: *mumbles* lightsoutnoremorse.

MM: Pardon?

SW: Nothing.

MM: Harker dives. Nightbringer connects. One. Two. Three. Wow, what a match.

SW: (Sarcastic) That one's for you, Trey! *Sniff* Oh, this is so emotional. We need to take a break. *Sniff*

MM: We'll be right back.


Caption: Earlier Yesterday

[Fade in on a hand-lettered sign that reads "BOB's Jobber Tryouts! Today!" We fade inside to see Scotty Whatbody, Nurse Heidi and Coma sitting at a long table with clipboards and pens at the ready.]

SW: Alright, remember, we're trying to find a replacement for the roster spot formerly occupied by Unit 5, who is out indefinitely with water and fire damage. Send in the first one, Arseniooooooooooooooo Hall!

Arsenio Hall: Yes sir, Mr. Scotty. Our first applicant this morning. He's 6-foot-2, and weighs 200 pounds. Give it up, for my man, Mr. Ace Wimbledon! Woo woo woo!

[A man dressed in white tennis shorts, a white shirt, white headband and carrying a tennis racket runs into the room.]

SW: A gimmick involving a tennis racket? What is this? 1986?

NH: He can serve me his balls any time. *Wolf whistle*

Coma: This teddy bear needs a sponge bath, stat! Neep!

AW: I'm sure I could find your sweet spot and deliver a grand slam you'll never forget, Heidi.

SW: Boring. Why aren't you playing tennis?

Random Guy: Hey, look. It's that loser Ace Wimbledon. Hey Ace! You SUCK!

AW: *Cries*

SW: Yikes. What a deuce. NEXT!

NH: Awww. AWWW! Scotty!

AH: Our next applicant today. He's 5-10, 190 pounds. Coming all the way from Amsterdam. Give it up, for my man, Mr. Billy De Mens van het jonge geitje. Woo woo wooo!

[In walks a man wearing wooden shows, a cheesehead hat and carrying a tulip. He gives it to Coma as he passes by the table.]

Coma: It's raining leapfrogs. Hallelujah! Poink!

SW + NH: Billy Kidman?

BK: Hey guys.

SW: What the hell is this?

BK: Well, I figured I lost my job at the WWE because I didn't have a cheesy enough gimmick. What's cheesier than a male prostitute from Amsterdam, right?

SW: Are you stoned right now?

BK: Wouldn't you be?

SW: We'll let you know. *Pssst* Got any more pix of your wife?

NH: *Ahem* NEXT!

[An albino ninja walks into the room.]

SW: Get my gun.

[The albino quickly runs out of the room.]

AH: Sorry about that, Mr. Scotty. He just ran right past me.

SW: Don't let it happen again, Hall!

Coma: If Trey's in me, he better buy me dinner first! Neep!

SW: Is there anybody left?

AH: Our next applicant is from right here in Sin City. She's 5-foot-10, and well, give it up for Miss Triple-E! Woo-woo-woo!

SW: Triple-E?

[A woman with HUGE breasts walks into the room.]

SW: Woohoo! Humina humina humina!

NH: Scotty! We're not hiring women.

SW: Who's running this committee? Hey honey, why should we hire you, Triple-E?

EEE: BecauseAH, IAH, amAH, theAH, sameAH. As some other characterAH. Since I amAH, thatAH, damn unoriginalAH! And I amAH, the amusement parkAH! BecauseAH, my breastsAH, are that damn hugeAH!

[She suddenly trips over her own feet.]

EEE: OwAHH. My quadAHHH! I thinkAH, the strainAH from my large breastsAH ripped it againAH!

[A man in a fast food uniform wanders into the room.]

Man: Whoa! Look at the sweater meat on that one!

AH: Excuse me sir, these are private tryouts.

Man: Oh, sorry, jigaboo, didn't mean to intrude.

AH: What did you just call me?

Man: What?

NH: Hey! You can't say that to a black person!

Man: I can't apologize to a black man for intruding?

SW: (Trying to contain laughter) No, you can't call him a...that racist word.

Man: Jigaboo isn't racist. My dad used to always call my stepmom that when they were in their bedroom playing slave owner.

[Scotty puts a hand over his mouth to probably hide his laughter. Arsenio charges at the man, but the man kicks Arsenio Hall. After a convenient camera angle change, the man charges and puts Hall through the table Scotty, Heidi and Coma were sitting at. Another convenient camera cut shows an unconscious Arsenio Hall.]

SW: BWAHAHAHA! You just kicked Arsenio Hall's ass! That's golden! What's your name, buddy? I'm gonna make you a star!

[We return to the BOB Ballroom.]

Styles: The following contest is another opening round match in the Swiss Army Belt tournament.

Voice-over: r u rede>

[The Fingerbang XXX theme song begins playing. XXXtreme Machine emerges and does fingerbang hand gestures with both hands. Dubya walks behind him waving a BOB flag.]

Styles: Being accompanied by Dubya. From North Bumphuck, North Dakota, weighing 256 pounds, this is XXXtreme Machine!

SW: XXXtreme Machine versus Insano Mano? What have we done to deserve this?

MM: It should be extreme.

SW: Oh don't start that crap again this week.

XM: sin sitee r u redee!!?

Crowd: No!

XM: i sed R U REDEE!!!

Crowd: NOOOOOO!

XM: den 4 tuh 100z n a10dns n tuh 100z wochen @ hom lllllllllletz git redee 2 SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUK!

Crowd: BOOOOO!

SW: He sure can't be accused of false advertising on that count.

["Mexican Hat Dance" by the Arriba Brothers plays.]

Styles: ¡Y de Suicida, México, pesando 210 libras, ésta es Insano Mano!

SW: And fans, don't you dare change the channel. As bad as THIS is, you know what's on the OTHER channel? That terrible "Green Acres" episode where Lisa entertains the son of a fellow war hero, the "fowlish" person of Drobney, a real live duck. How pathetic is THAT?

MM: I can't believe that show is even on the air anymore.

SW: I may be criticized for giving away the plots of the competition tomorrow, but the Sunday Morning Wars have begun. And RerunLand, you're going down!

MM: XXXtreme charges, misses a punch, and trips and falls over his own feet. Mano goes right to work on the fallen Machine. Shooting star dropkick by Mano. And there's a asai spin kick. Machine lands a punch, but Mano responds with a springboard somersault corkscrew clothesline.

SW: Is it just me, or does his luchadore offense going a little overboard?

MM: Mano with a headlock takeover on Machine, and Machine gets his foot on the rope. Mano charges, but Machine grabs him and tackles him to the mat. Both men getting up. Mano with a flying spin kick. Mano heads to the top rople.

SW: Are we watching this match on fast forward? I told Mano that if he guzzled all that Coke, drank that pot of coffee and smoked that crack it wouldn't be good. And in the time it took me to say that, he hit about twenty moves. Good lord, tell that boy to slow down.

MM: Springboard Corkscrew Moonsault Body Press. Oh no. Generic Ref is down as well. Machine with a punch staggers Mano. Another. And there's a blatant low blow kick.

SW: That'll slow down Speedy Gonzalez.

MM: Machine has slowed things down. He's pounding Mano with punches. Lots and lots of punches. But Mano is punching back now. Mano with an asai hiptoss. Looks like Mano's heading up top yet again. But Dubya's up on the apron.

*CRACK*

MM: Dubya just blasted Mano with that flag pole.

SW: And Mano's balls got a nice visit from the turnbuckle. I don't blame Dubya. I blame Mano! If he didn't have so much metal in his back from bone replacements because he wrestles like a total moron, that flag wouldn't have been drawn to him like a magnet.

MM: The flagpole was made of wood, Scotty.

SW: What's your point?

MM: Wood is not magnetic.

SW: Whoa, whoa, that's just your opinion there, Monroe. Don't start spreading lies to all the viewers watching at home. Dubya is completely not at fault here, as usual.

MM: *Sigh* XXXtreme Machine heads up top. There it is, the XXXtreme Stunner. Cover...Generic Ref is up. One. Two. Three. That's it.

Styles: The winner of the match...is XXXtreme Machine?

MM: Fans, don't go anywhere. We've got a ?Masked Man? loose in the hotel, and up next, Uber Vampire Warrior. Steve Leary. Swiss Army Belt tournament. Don't go anywhere.


[Meanwhile, near an elevator, the ?Masked Man? Is confronted by Alex Smith and his bullhorn.]

Alex Smith: Excuse me sir. Are you a member of the criminal military-industrial complex? The people know that you and your goons orchestrated 9/11 to radically remake the political mind-set of the world. Well, let me tell you, BOB will NOT be part of your global empire police state.

?MM?: ...

AS: What's with the black-ops outfit? Why won't you speak to me? More and more people are waking up to your lies everyday! You can't suppress the truth forever. You think you can instill fear in the BOB fans and American public. 9/11 was an inside job! 9/11 was an inside job! 9/11 was an inside job!

[The ?Masked Man? stares at Alex for a few seconds before grabbing the bullhorn and beating Alex over the head with it repeatedly. The ?Masked Man? shakes his head and walks away. We return to the BOB Ballroom.]

Styles: The following match is another opening round match in the Swiss Army Belt tournament.

["Better Days" by Tadpole plays. Steve Leary walks out to absolutely no reaction. We're talking Rob Conway reaction here.]

Styles: From Athol, Massachusetts. 220 pounds. Steve Leary, everyone.

SW: Can we see if there are any hot chicks at the pool?

MM: I don't think we have any control of the hotel's security cameras.

SW: Damn it. I really feel the urge to change some kind of channel right now.

["Goliath and the Vampires" by Monster Magnet plays. Uber Vampire Warriors walks out holding his chalice of blood, smiling and laughing on his walk down the aisle.]

SW: No wonder he lives there. I bet he can have all the blood he wants in Tampon, Florida.

MM: ... Anyway.

Styles: And his opponent. From Tampa, Florida. Weighing 250 pounds. Uber Vampire Warrior.

[Uber Vamp guzzles the blood and wipes the blood off his chin using a shirt sleeve.

SW: Didn't he used to spit out the blood when he worked for that place that writes those worse-than-WB-quality sitcoms called Raw?

MM: He did. I doubt that was real blood.

SW: But now he's drinking real human blood?

MM: I'd imagine so. Besides, they always called it a red liquid, not blood. Why else would he drink it now? He IS a vampire.

SW: Right. And Steve Leary is over.

MM: Anyway, this one is underway, and Leary actually just hit a backbreaker. And he drops a double axe handle on Uber Vamp. Uber Vamp's up. Leary with some punches, and he whips Uber Vamp to the corner. Leary charges.

SW: HOLY CRAP! Vamp just backbody dropped Leary onto the top turnbuckle! BWHAHAHA! Did you see Leary fall on his face! That was too funny.

MM: Vamp drags him out. There's that patented corkscrew elbow drop. He drags up Leary. Swinging neckbreaker.

SW: Break his neck! Break his neck!

MM: Vamp has Leary in the corner. Oh no. Vamp is just pummeling Leary. Leary collapses, but Vamp picks him back up and continues punching him. Get him off him, Generic Ref. This isn't a fair fight.

SW: Woohoo! Leary's busted open. That must be legit, Leary has never done a bladej--

MM: That's disgusting. Did you just see that?

SW: Ewwww. Uber Vamp just licked Leary's wound. That is sooo gay.

MM: Gay? It's disgusting.

SW: What part about gay doesn't equal disgusting, Monroe?

MM: Russian leg sweep by Uber Vamp.

SW: I always knew Luna was really a man. Big Gay Uber Vampire Warrior, everybody.

MM: Low blow by Leary.

SW: Oh, don't about low blows with Uber Vamp around.

MM: Uber Vamp just rams his knee into Leary's midsection. He's got him hooked. Impaler. One. Two. Three.

SW: I need to go vomit.

MM: Fans, in just a few minutes, it's main event time. Massive Man Rendition First. douja. The ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS tournament. And it's next.


[Meanwhile, Nurse Heidi is backstage with Pete Trable. The crowd boos loudly upon seeing him.]

NH: Hi Pete.

PT: Yo.

NH: So, next week, you'll be facing Steve Studnuts in the OWTTM tournament. What are your thoughts on this?

PT: This rap's goin' out to my boy Steve Studnuts
A guy who likes to throw it in Connie's butt
Last time I saw you, I thought you were off to see the wizard
But Dorothy, you're about to get caught in a blizzard
Yo, my flow is as cool as ice, but my wrestling is hotter than hell
And you better worry when they ring the bell
Because next week, I'm making Steve Studnuts my personal bitch
I ain't sweating you, you got punked out by a witch
It ain't all about you anymore, your time is done
You're as irrelevant to this sport as Billy Gunn
You're dumb, a bum, scum
And I'm damn sure I could make Connie cum
You want some?
Come get some
You don't like me?
Bite me

[Steve Studnuts rams his way onto the screen, nearly knocking Trable over.]

SS: Look out, Rick Steiner. I haven't seen a factor as annoying as you since I turned of Fox News, bitch. Is that rap supposed to hurt my feelings? Well, please, let me offer my own rap. *Ahem*

SS: I hate wrestling in BOB
Next week, you're gonna job
I carry this company on my back
All you do is act like you're black
So I'm gonna kick your monkey ass
You deep thigh gash
You stupid motherfucker
You gat damn cocksucker
You're not Steve Studnuts
You ain't even close
But I know.... you wish..... you could be
Pussy

[Meanwhile in the wedding chapel, Dimension Z is beating the crap out of John Skeet and Dustbuster Boy. Why are they in there? I have no idea.]

MM: Why are Zeno and his crew attacking these members of the Suck-Ups?

SW: If I had to guess what Zeno would say, I'd say because it's just fun.

MM: Here come the hotel concierges and waiters to break up this melee.

SW: It's so sad that we can't secure our own employees. We need to let the hotel do it for us. What I do know is that it looks like it's mission accomplished for Dimension Z in Operation Enduring Pain.

[Elsewhere, Pigeon is in a sitting amongst several wandering pigeons in a poorly lit Riviera hotel room.]

Pigeon: Kevin The Pyromaniac. A guy who likes to play with fire. Hmm. That sounds familiar. You haven't made any atrocious rap albums lately, have you? And married some blonde slut who likes not wear panties? I doubt it. And as big of a waste of flesh as that loser is, you might just be a little bit worse, Kevin.

Pigeon: You must not know 'bout me, you must not know 'bout me. I can have another you by tomorrow. So don't you ever for a second get to thinking you're irreplaceable. So go ahead and get gone, and call up that chick and see if she's home. Oops, I bet you thought that I didn't know. What did you think I was puttin' you out for?

Pigeon: Because you was untrue, rollin' her around in the car that I bought you. Baby drop them keys, hurry up, before your taxi leaves. Standin' in the front yard tellin' me how I'm such a fool. Talkin' bout how I'll never ever find a man like you. You got me twisted--

[There's a knock at the door. Pigeon sighs, gets up and goes to the door to look out the peephole. He opens the door.]

Michelle Vincent: Hey.

Pigeon: Why didn't you just come in? I gave you my cardkey.

MV: Yeah, well, I kind of flushed it in a fit of revulsion. Anyway. Hey! What are all these birds doing in here? We're not paying for the damages.

[Pigeon points at the microwave.]

MV: You're going to EAT these things!

Pigeon: Shhh! Not so loud. You'll frighten them (he says, picking up a bird and stroking it).

MV: You're so Ozzy. Anyway. Sorry to interrupt your promo, but I needed to talk to you.

Pigeon: What about? Me? Pigeon?

MV: Sure. You see. I've been hearing rumblings backstage that some people have been insulting the quality of BOB's writing.

Pigeon: Not me.

MV: Of course, not you. You know how it is. Some people don't get wins or titles every single week, so they start bitching to the dirt sheets or the forums or whatever. And honestly, in certain cases, I'd rather watch donkeys crap on their heads than watch them wrestle ever again, but hey, we've got a very limited roster, as you well know.

Pigeon: I do?

MV: I mean, to be compared to Vince Russo? How would you like it if somebody compared you to Queen Sharmell?

Pigeon: Oh, that's a ridiculous comparison.

MV: Why?

Pigeon: She has bigger breasts.

MV: By the end of this title tournament, Sir Zeno and his crew are going to WISH BOB had died, because that would mean I can no longer make his life in hell...hellish.

Pigeon: Hail Michelle! Do you have a 666 tattoo on your ass?

MV: No.

Pigeon: Want one?

MV: Eww. Listen, Pigeon. I will never love you. But I will give you credit for being loyal to me. So, just this second, I've decided, I'm going to do everything within my booking power to make sure that you go very far in the ONLY WORLD TITLE TOURNAMENT.

Pigeon: Why are you shouting?

MV: Sorry. Deal?

[Michelle extends her hand.]

Pigeon: Sure.

[Pigeon shakes her hand.]

MV: I've gotta get back.

[Pigeon keeps shaking her hand.]

MV: Like, now?

[Pigeon keeps shaking her hand.]

MV: You're going to have to change your pants after I leave, aren't you? *Sigh*

MM: Wow, how about that, Scotty? Michelle promising to help Pigeon and hurt Sir Zeno in this tournament.

SW: I have one question for Michelle. What about ME? What about Scotty!

MM: Our main event is next.


Styles: Promotional consideration paid for by the following:

Fuqing Community Association of Canada

Send more virgins, eh?

Not to be confused with the French-Greek organization Phuque Ewe.


Styles: This is our main event, and it will be an opening round match in the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS tournament.

["Don't Want You Back" by Eamon plays.]

Styles: Introducing first. From Kent, Ohio. Weighing 190 pounds. This is the Sensei of Joshitude, Massive Man Rendition First.

[Massive Man enters to boos from the men and a few shrieks from the horny teenage girls in the audience.]

SW: Woohoo! Horny teenage girls!

["How High" by Method Man and Red Man begins playing.]

Styles: And his opponent. From Parts Forgotten, weighing 245 pounds. This is douja.

[douja walks to the ring holding his BOB Legend Champion title belt.]

SW: What's the deal with this belt? That has about as much credibility as the <badly dubbed voice> Hirohito, Where Am I? This Is Not Tokyo!</end badly dubbed voice> Title.

MM: All I know is it cost douja quite a few pennies, so I'm sure it has some value to him.

SW: I’m sure he'll just turn it into a bong.

MM: The bell sounds, and douja starts this one off with a double mule kick that sends Massive Man flying.

SW: douja stomping Massive Man with those uneducated feet.

MM: And there's a knee drop. Douja pulls up Massive Man and continues to pound on him. There's a snapmare by douja.

SW: I'm sure my boy Massive Man is set to blow his Joshitude all over douja. Any second now.

MM: Dear lord, I hope not.

SW: Oh yeah! Nice, uh, uppercut there by Josh.

MM: That was a low blow.

SW: Nuh-uh. That was all thigh.

MM: And I suppose those aren't punches there by Massive Man?

SW: Some people need to have the Joshitude beaten into them.

MM: Massive Man heading up top now. Oh, he missed that elbow drop. douja whips him to the corner. douja setting up Massive Man. And douja with a superplex.

SW: Both these guys have been the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS before. Massive Man's reign was far more impressive. He did it all with an injured toe. Not even an injured toe can compromise Joshitude.

MM: Face jam by douja. Oh, but Massive Man fights back and what a nice arm jam there on douja.

SW: Nice. That's his doobie smoking arm. That's his strong arm.

MM: Massive Man with a bridge pin. One. Two. douja gets a shoulder up. Rolling kick by Massive Man, again hitting douja's injured arm. Douja is snapmared over. Massive Man off the ropes, and a dropkick into the arm. Good strategy here by R1.

SW: You sound like you're surprised. You shouldn't be. Smell the Joshitude. Soak it in, Monroe, because Joshitude is the smell of the future.

MM: douja trying to battle back, but Massive Man with an Ohio drop. Massive Man quickly up to the top rope. Missile dropkick, again connecting with the injured arm.

SW: R1 realized that targeting douja's empty skull would be a futile strategy. Let's face it, if you stand close enough to douja, you can hear the ocean. I wonder if we'll see douja have to tap out in order to save his doobie-smoking arm. He treasures that limb above all others. Well, maybe it's second on the list. The first being his big chocolate Twinkie.

MM: Massive Man has this armbar cinched in. But douja's powering up. Are you kidding me? douja just lifted up Massive Man into the human torture rack. And listen to this place erupt in cheers.

SW: They must have just announced free booze. Where can I get mine?

MM: They're cheering for the match.

SW: Get out.

MM: I'm serious.

SW: So am I. Get out. I can do this show fine on my own.

MM: But look at Massive Man, working on the arm. He has reversed the reversal into a reversal. And R1 has the armbar locked back on. Unbelievable. And douja desperately trying to get to the ropes.

SW: Did you hear douja, RVS and Kurt Angel locked their keys in the car before the show? It took them two hours to get out. BWAHAHAHA!

MM: douja made it to the ropes. And Massive Man is yelling at Generic Ref. Douja's fighting back. Back suplex by douja.

SW: You know what douja calls it when a roach ash burns his shirt? A pot hole! BWAHAHAHA! Speaking of potholes, douja's stomping a pothole in Massive Man, isn't he?

MM: He's going for the Chronic Neck Pain. But he's having trouble lifting up Massive Man because of the arm. Oh, Massive Man with a suplex. And Massive Man avoids a certain defeat. Massive Man to the top rope. Flying kick takes douja down.

SW: Damn it, is getting up again?

MM: douja wants the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. This may be his last shot at it. Massive Man charges with an elbow shot that knocks douja through the ropes. Massive Man going out after him.

SW: douja doesn't want to see his shot at the title go up in smoke here, he better fight back.

MM: Massive Man drops douja on the Flimsy Guardrail. douja is winded. And the fight heading back into the ring. Massive Man puts on a front face lock.

SW: Good strategy. Maybe douja will just fall asleep from exhaustion.

MM: No, douja is fighting up. Massive Man is being rocked with lefts and rights by douja. Oh, but Massive Man with a gutwrench suplex ends douja's comeback attempt. One, two, no. douja kicked out.

SW: C'mon, Ref! An arthritic monkey could count to three faster.

MM: Massive Man clothesline attempt, but douja ducks and whips Massive Man to the corner. Corner clothesline rocks Massive Man. But he hit with his bad arm, so he just hurt himself just as much as Massive Man.

SW: Break his arm!

MM: R1 trying to get the arm bar on again, but douja's hanging on to the ropes with his good arm. Low blow kick by douja connects. He's got him. Chronic Neck Pain. He did it.

SW: Crap!

MM: It's the ?Masked Man. The ?Masked Man? is in the ring. He taps Generic Ref on the shoulder and then walks the other way.

SW: Uh-boy, that'll confuse Generic Ref for minutes.

GR: Ahhh! Ghosts!

[Generic Ref runs out to the floor and hides under the ring.]

MM: He just attacked douja. He's grabs douja. That looked like a...

SW: A Nipple Cutter? BOOOYA!

[?The Masked Man? takes off his mask. The crowd erupts in a mixture of cheers and boos.]

SW: It's the Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer In Wrestling Today™, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants!

MM: Now SMP heads under the ring. He's trying to get Generic Ref back in the ring. He's pulling Generic Ref back out.

SMP What are you doing?!

GR: It's was Specter. Or Spooky. Maybe Ghostie! Or Supernatural Visitant. I should call those ghost hunting Roto-Rooter guys, TAPS.

SMP: Go to your job, you pathetic sonofabitch and count douja out!

[SMP grabs Generic Ref and tosses him into the ring. Generic Ref counts a REALLY fast three count and runs out of the ring, out of the Ballroom, and probably out of the building. "Don't Want You Back" by Eamon plays for a victorious MMR1.]

SW: BWAHAHAHA! Generic Ref thought the Spirit Quad was haunting him.

Styles: Here is you winner, Massive Man Rendition First.

MM: SMP is back in BOB. douja is eliminated from the tournament. Massive Man is going on in the tournament. What a shocker. What a morning. Fans, for Scotty Whatbody, this is Mike Monroe. Good morning everybody.


©2007 BOB Wrestling! We've never ever ever ever ever been in denial!

 

© BOB Wrestling!

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