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Sunday Morning Chloroform 37

[We fade in on BigBOSS, who is seated behind a desk in a hotel suite.]

BigBOSS: Good morning Sin City. And good morning everyone watching at home. My name is BigBOSS, and I am the creator of Brawlers On a Budget. I join you this morning to discuss what happened last week with the attack on Steve Studnuts.

BigB: First off, I wish I knew further information on his condition, but all I know right now is that he will likely be out of action for many, many months. Of course, because Steve just signed a guaranteed deal with us, he'll continue to be paid while he rehabs his injuries.

BigB: As for the four people who attacked him, we still have little information. Steve was attacked when he was alone as he was heading toward the BOB Ballroom. Security cameras did not catch any strange people in the area at the time, and it didn't show four men in black, as has been reported by Steve and a couple of witnesses. With the help of the great people at the Riviera, we're still reviewing security video.

BigB: There is a group that we believe is responsible for the attack. A parody cell called the STWF. Many of our longtime viewers may remember that the STWF was a wrestling organization that operated from 1996 to 2000. Many of my underlings started there or worked there at some point. You also may have heard about them more recently on Classix or seen BOB's pilot episode of Monday Nae Trous last year. But it was far more than a pilot episode. It was eliminating a threat that we had been hearing rumors about for years.

[Clips from Sir Zeno vs. Misty Waters from Grudge Match A-Go-Go are show as BigBOSS continues to talk. The ring begins filling up with people dressed in all black, including black ski masks. The only distinguishing marks are the big white letters STWF on the back of their black jackets. They are all wielding tennis rackets. They begins Rodney Kinging Sir Zeno. The crowd is staring in total cluelessness as Zeno is beaten down by the tennis rackets.]

BigB: Our attempt to go back in time and prevent an all out war on BOB. Our attempt failed because those bastards at Comedy Central decided that airing reruns of "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" and the "Colbert Report," and whatever else they have on after those shows would have bigger ratings than our show. Sure, if you want millions more viewers. But what about the future of our federation and all my lost profits from the war? How selfish can they be?

BigB: All I know is we are now facing our worst nightmare coming true. The STWF has declared War On BOB. I'm not sure exactly what shape this war may take. Squirt guns. Stink bombs. Rocket propelled water balloons. Danger could come in any form. Even folded up pieces of paper. Everything could be a weapon to these people.

[BigBOSS gets up and walks around the desk as the camera follows to reveal a young boy with an eye patch on his left eye.]

BigB: This is little Johnny. No, he is not the son of a pirate. He's suffering from water eye, a serious injury that could possibly cause him to have a bloodshot and itchy eye. Maybe for hours, maybe for days. Who knows? You see, he was a victim of senseless driveby violence. Tell him that a water balloon to the face is funny.

BigB: Now, I bet your saying, BigBOSS, did Steve Studnuts get seriously injured by water balloons? No. Steve was attacked with some sort of unidentified metal object. A UMO. We have been consulting with MUMON, the Mutual Unidentified Metal Object Network to try and identify the mysterious object.

BigB: These members of the STWF don't like the way we run our federation. They have a very radical ideology that threatens to destroy us all. Yes, even you, Johnny. They'd gladly hit you and your puppy with that unidentified hurty object. They'd hit your mommy, daddy, siblings, and even your Playstation 2.

[Johnny begins crying at mention of an assault on his PS2.]

BigB: There, there, Johnny. There, there. And these members of the STWF would gladly hit everyone in BOB who works for me. But I promise that I'll do everything I can to protect you, as long as it doesn't go over my budget. And I promise that we'll get the group responsible for not only attacking Steve Studnuts, but for attacking our way of earning a minimum wage income.

BigB: These stereotypists will not succeed in their mission. The STWF will not invade us successfully. The STWF will not reclaim the number one spot in sports entertainment. And they most definitely won't get any royalties from me. I bought those shows fair and square off the Internet from...that guy...whathisface...who was selling them.

BigB: So, with that in mind, let's start the show. And we will find the wrestlers of morning disruption. It is our number one priority to find these WMD's for the future of our company. Thank you.

Sunday Morning Chloroform Logo

My Search Engine Is Making A Funny Noise!

[Cut to an aerial view of Sin City. Then cut to a shot of the world-famous Riviera Hotel! "Chloroform The One You Love" by Flickerstick plays as various clips of the current roster are highlighted.]

["Better Days" by Tadpole is playing as we enter the BOB Ballroom, which is once again full with a few hundred people.]

NH: The opening contest is an opening round match in the Swiss Army Belt tournament. Introducing first, from XXX, weighing XXX, this is John "Skeeter" Skeet.

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

Scotty Whatbody: Whoa, sounds like you're drunk. Or Jim Ross. I can't tell which. But enough about your boring ass. Where's my camera time?

Mike MonroeScotty Whatbody

[We flash to Scotty and Mike at ringside for two seconds. Scotty starts to say something but the camera returns to the ring.]

SW: Hey! I demand the spotlight. Fine. Focus on the WRESTLER. As if anybody cares about Skeeter.

MM: Nice, Scotty.

SW: I can't believe BOB is being attacked by the STWF. I thought that was just a lame excuse to get on Monday nights a couple of years ago.

MM: Well, I guess the joke was on us.

SW: Isn't it always?

["Under the Knife" by AC/DC plays.]

NH: Dr. Thrilla!

SW: Look at Skeeter. It looks like he's gonna need to change his pants already.

MM: Skeeter has been brutally attacked the last couple of weeks by Sir Zeno and his group. Skeeter's entire forehead is still bandaged up from last week's coffee pot attack. But we must give him credit for showing up for this match despite the attacks and the pending further beating he's about to receive.

SW: Or, not.

[Skeeter bolts from the ring and runs out through the crowd.]

JS: AHHH! AHH! AHH! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!

NH: ... And the winner as a result of his opponent being a total pussy, Dr. Thrilla.

[Thrilla grabs the mic from Heidi.]

Dr. Thrilla: *Celebratory metal clanging*

SW: You've got to imagine Thrilla could be the Swiss Army champion. That belt would match his teeth perfectly.


[Meanwhile, Styles was standing by with Death, Lord Athackkimentham and Uber Vampire Warrior.]

Styles: Well, Death. You had quite the eventful week last week, including getting attacked by Massive Man Rendition First and killing Jim. The rumors are swirling that Coma and Hallucination Boy might be the newest members of the Skull & Bones Society.

Death: You know...that is the dumbest thing I've heard today. Well, maybe the second dumbest thing. There was this blonde chick I just killed a couple hours ago.

Styles: Blonde chick?

Death: Yeah. See, there were these three girls who all worked in the same office with the same female boss. Each day, they noticed the boss left work early. One day, the girls decided that, when the boss left, they would leave right behind her. After all, she never called or came back to work, so how would she know they went home early?

Death: The brunette was thrilled to be home early. She did a little gardening, spent playtime with her son, and went to bed early. The redhead was elated to be able to get in a quick workout at the spa before meeting a dinner date. The blonde was happy to get home early and surprise her husband, but when she got to her bedroom, she heard a muffled noise from inside.

Death: Slowly and quietly, she cracked open the door and was mortified to see her husband in bed with her boss! Gently she closed the door and crept out of her house. The next day, at their coffee break, the brunette and redhead planned to leave early again, and they asked the blonde if she was going to go with them. "No way," the blonde exclaimed. "I almost got caught yesterday..."

Styles: So...the husband killed her?

Death: What? No. She died from drinking milk.

Styles: She choked?

Death: No, the cow fell on her. But seriously...can we get back on topic. I said it last week, and I'll say it again. I killed Jim because I thought he was friends with Massive Man.

Styles: Lord Athackkimentham, what do you think? Do you think Death is going to doublecross you and Uber Vamp?

LA: By the power of Santa, we will win the tag titles and soak them in the blood of our enemies and sacrifice them atop the altar of our master. All hail Santa! He forever reigns in your pathetic world of lies. His day is near. All bow to his image. Follow the new religion. Santanism has infected this entire country. All of your pathetic future slaves will be brought to your knees, and the mighty elf disciples will rise back to power! Hail Santa!

Styles: What? Uber Vamp, can you clarify?

UVW: Hmm hmm hmm hmm. Hmm hmm hmm hmm.

Styles: I'll take that as a no.

Death: Why would I trade in two of the most evil creatures for two retards who can't even spell IQ? The only way that might ever happen is if I'm desperate enough to be a face. But I'm not a face. And I don't give a crap about the fans. Or, well, anything really. What do I have to fear?

"Totally Packaged" Jim: *Ahem*

Styles: Jim?

TP: What's up, Styles? So, you haven't got anything to fear, huh? I beg to differ.

Death: You're looking good for a corpse.

TP: Guess you're losing your touch, Death. You only made my foot fall asleep. In fact, the only rigor mortis I've got left is in my pants.

Styles: Oh, dear...

TP: Anyway. If you think your some big shot, why don't we have ourselves a six-man tag match this morning?

Death: Ha. Sure. As if you even could find two partners.

[Massive Man just happens to walk by at that moment.]

TP: I choose Massive Man for one.

MMR1: For what? The guy who is going to rain Joshitude all over you? (Pause) Hey, Death, does it hurt if I poke you in the eye socket like this?

[MMR1 begins finger fucking Death's eyesocket with his index finger.]

Death: Uh, no.

MMR1: Damn. (He stops the finger fucking.) So, what are we talking about? It better not be to produce your next solo album either. Did you hear this crap? (MMR1 pulls out a CD.) What's up with this crappy song, "Life Vest Under Your Seat"? "Girl, I'm the life vest under your seat. Let me get down between your feet. Hey baby, don't look at me that way. Unlike Massive Man, I'm not totally gay."

TP: It's all about the importance of what to do if you're going down on an airplane. And ladies...

MMR1: Shut up.

TP: It's educational, and it's sexy. It's sexucational.

MMR1: It sucks. And I'm not totally gay like Lance Bass!

TP: Partially, then?

MMR1: What? Shut up!

TP: Later in the song I give the girl my peanuts.

Death: Uh, remember us?

TP: Oh, right. Six-man tag. You and I are going to be partners. But in a totally non-gay way.

MMR1: Us? Against them? Who's our third?

TP: Well, I figured there was only one man I'd ask. He just happened to be in town at the time for my funeral and I'm sure he can help us get the job done.

[MMR1 starts looking around nervously.]

TP: He is one tough summabitch...

[MMR1 starts looking down nervously to both sides of him, then behind Death.]

TP: Please welcome back to BOB...

MMR1: *Gulp*

TP: Sweden's most penalized hockey player for the past three years, Jean Bannister!

Styles: Jean Bannister? The man who holds more victories over Death than anybody?

TP: That's the one. Right behind you, Death.

[Death turns around and comes face to face with Bannister, who is surrounded by none other than the "Golden Girls" themselves, Bea Arthur, Betty White, Rue McClannahan and Estelle Getty.]

Death: Well, if isn't the only people almost as old as I am. And my archenemy.

JB: Roughing, two minutes. Cross-checking, two minutes. Elbowing, two minutes. High sticking, four minutes. Slashing, two minutes. Instigating a fight and fighting, seven minutes, ejection. Possible fine and suspension. But this morning. There won't be a penalty box.

Death: You sure? Because if you try any of that nonsense with me, I'll force you into one of the crustiest, dried up penalty boxes there is. The one between Estelle Getty's thighs.

[Death and Bannister raise their weapons, a scythe for Death and a hockey stick for Bannister. Bannister goes for a crosscheck on Death's face, but Death gets his scythe up to block it. However, in the process, the weapons form a cross.]


[Uber Vamp scurries away.]

Death: Damn. You may have won THIS round, but I'll kill your dead later, Bannister. You and your old whores!

[Death and Lord A. walk away from the former members of the supergroup Totally Face.]

JB: Nobody insults my groupies and gets away with it. (Singing, horribly) Thank you for being a friend...

[The boys then join in, probably to drown out Bannister.]

TP + MMR1 + JB: Traveled down the road and back again. Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant...

["Misery" by Soul Asylum is playing as we return to the BOB Ballroom.]

MM: Here comes your scarred up protégé.

SW: He had a rough time last week, with the almost getting killed thing. But after the show, we went out and got him a couple pints.

MM: Of Guinness?

SW: No, of blood. Trust me, in a year, this guy will be huge. I'm teaching him everything he knows.

MM: Ah, that explains his lack of success. He'll probably end up dead if he keeps listening to you.

SW: Then I'll get a new protégé who will pay me. Randall is all about putting on an entertaining show, and he doesn't care who he pisses off to do it.

RM: Last week, some big crusty cocksucker stole my underwear. And I'm a little pissed off about it. Yeah, sure, I got my ass kicked by Zeno. Whatever. But this pussy comes down when I'm already a bloody mess and steals my underwear? No. This is totally unacceptable. I may not have been at Sir Zeno's level, but I sure as hell can beat a guy who's stiffer than the sock I used to fuck back in high school.

RM: Undietaker. You wanna get some more jollies by stealing my underwear? Why don't you come down here with your $10 suit and prove to me that you can kick my ass for these (he says spanking his ass). And by the way. I'm wearing a red thong, special just for you.

MM: Can Undietaker resist a red thong?

SW: I really have to tell him to stop doing this.


[The arena goes dark as "Groovy Underwear" plays. Undietaker emerges and slowly walks down the aisle.]

MM: Mooby is sticking out his behind, telling Undietaker to get in the ring and take his thong from him.

SW: Now Scotty isn't looking so stupid for getting Randall to make out his will, right? If only he could have afforded that life insurance policy.

MM: You're scramming him?

SW: Oh crap, did I say that out loud? But seriously, you think Don King gives a crap about any of his clients? It's all about the Hamilton's, baby!

MM: Undietaker is heading into the ring. Oh no. Mooby just slapped the Undietaker's hat off. Even though Undietaker didn't react, that had to anger ol' booker brown.

SW: Booker brown? What the hell is that?

MM: Mooby is still shaking his ass at Undietaker. Undietaker goes for it. And comes out...empty?

RM: Haha! Nothing but ass crack!

SW: Stinkerooni! StinkeroonI! Stinkerooni!

RM: That's right, you dumb fucker. You just got a dose of Randall's stinkditch. Enjoy the aroma.

[Undietaker's eyes go wide in anger.]

SW: Randall went commando. Now Undietaker's about to go psycho. Oh no!

MM: Taker's got Mooby by the throat.

SW: Oh no, not with the ass hand.

MM: Wedgie-aided chokeslam from hell. Taker puts a foot on him.

[Generic Ref shrugs and makes the three count.]

SW: Hey! This wasn't a match!

MM: It looks like it is.

SW: Undietaker may have gotten the win, but it came at a horribly smelly price.

Disembodied Voice Of The Undietaker: Zeno! Boy, I'm not done with you yet. My hunger for your undies grows with every passing minute. You better give your soul to the Lord, because your undies belong to me. And I will not stop until you DRESS....IN...FLEECE!

[We fade up on a note.]

Note: cum 2 the pewl -=- xxxteme!!!!

[The camera pulls back to reveal Dubya is reading the note. And that he is reading it as poolside.]

Dubya: XXXtremey? Where are ya? Your buddy Dubya's here like you asked.

[Suddenly, Alan Qaida runs in from behind and hits Dubya in the back of the head with a pool net. Dubya falls face first into the pool.]

MM: Alan Qaida has just attacked Dubya. What is he doing?

SW: Here's a better question. Why is that table floating on that inner tube in the middle of the pool.

MM: This is crazy. Snapmare Kid is supposed to be facing Alan Qaida right now. It looks like Qaida is going to put Dubya on that table.

SW: This isn't fair. Dubya isn't a wrestler. Not that most of the people on our roster could pass as wrestlers. But still...

MM: Dubya has been laid out on the table on the inner tube. Qaida is out of the pool. Oh no. He's climbing up onto the diving board.

SW: No! Alan Qaida must be stopped.

MM: He dives.


MM: Oh no. Fans, I believe this is the first time I've ever seen a man driven through a floating table. You only get action like this in BOB.

["Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong is playing as we return to the Ballroom.]

NH: SMK intro!

MM: The show starter. The curtain jerker. The jobber. Snapmare Kid is here, but here alone.

SW: Yeah, it's a lot like his lovelife. Just him and his hands. Why doesn't Dubya have bodyguards? Dubya is far too important to be laying comically face down in the pool!

[Cut to that comical shot of Dubya face down, arms out in the pool. Back to the ring.]

["Disciple" by Slayer plays.]

NH: XXX, possibly more due to being soaking wet, Alan Qaida!

MM: Qaida slides in and...


SW: BWAHAHAHA! He's a human Slip-N-Slide.

MM: Qaida's back up after sliding out of the ring and hitting the floor. He climbs into the ring and charges at SMK. Devastating punches by Qaida. And he's back outside the ring and grabs a chair. He sets it up.

[Qaida jumps over SMK's body onto the chair. Then jumps toward the ropes, but misses. He backs up and charges this time, leaping off the chair and landing on the top rope.]

MM: I guess we'll call that a pentuple moonsault.

SW: The double bogey moonsault might be more accurate.


SW: Holy crap. It sounded like he just busted his face on that chair. He didn't even come close to SMK.

MM: And SMK capitalizes. Snapmare. Snapmare. Snapmare. Yes, it's the three snapkateers move. One, two, Qaida kicks out. SMK heading to the ropes.

SW: He is?

MM: Qaida's up. SMK jumps down. And hits a snapmare.

SW: Ugh!

MM: Maybe one of these days he'll hit a new move. He sure does have a variety of ways to hit the move. Gotta give him credit there.

SW: The man of 1,000 snapmares. Whoop-de-doo. Though, I guess it could be worse. We could have to watch the Randy Orton chinlock extravaganza every week.

MM: Qaida blocks. German suplex with a bridge. One. Two. Three. That's it. Qaida moves on in the tournament.

SW: He wouldn't have won if Dubya was out here to give him, guidance.

MM: Guidance? Is that what you call a flag pole to the back of the head?

SW: I also call it hilarious.

[Alex Smith walks out with his bullhorn.]

AS: Alan Qaida and al-CIA-da have a lot in common, people. It's time to wake up and realize that just like this man was paid for by BigBOSS to play a terrorist, so was bin Laden. Google the name Tim Osman. You'll find that bin Laden was a CIA asset. People, bin Laden and the Bushes have dined together for years. bin Laden was made in the U.S.A.

AS: The real bin Laden is dead. He was on dialysis in 2001. Why haven't there been any more videos from him? Because they want to scare you with a boogeyman. They want you to submit and worship Lord Bush and Big Brother. Big government is NOT good and it's what the founders of this country rebelled against.

AS: They control the media. They control the banks. They control the corporations. They control the schools. And they even control the wrestling business. This war BigBOSS is proposing is NOT a war on stereotypists, but a war on all of us. Steve Studnuts attack was an inside job. Steve Studnuts attack was an inside job.

AS: The U.S. government had a plan called Operation Northwoods where they would create terror attacks inside the United States using airplanes. They have staged terror in other countries, such as Operation Ajax in Iran. Look into the Gulf of Tonkin incident. This is false flag terror! And I guarantee there will be more to make you believe that you need to give up your freedom for security.,, become a member and support what I'm doing. They can't kill ideas, they can't kill truth and good! Thank you!

SW: Oh, come on. Isn't he giving too much credit to a guy whose specialty is cutting rubber checks? As if BigBOSS even has the brains to be part of some global conspiracy. I suppose Steve Studnuts was blown up with thermite.

MM: It's getting mighty confusing to follow Smith's train of logic, Scotty. Alex Smith continues to spread his propaganda. Well fans, all we know is that all conspiracy theorists are crazy, and if you believe any of them, you must be too.

SW: Right. I mean, just because there was all kinds of insider trading prior to 9/11, several put options put on the airlines that were hijacked and crashed into the towers, tons of gold reported missing from one of the buildings, reports of construction work in the Twin Towers for weeks before the airplanes hit the towers and constant shifting of tenants in the building, reports of explosions going off in the buildings from survivors, the fact that cell phones don't work on airplanes in 2001, the fact that the towers were built to withstand the impact of TWO jumbo airplanes, the fact that most of the fuel burned off in the initial impact and, in fact, firefighters and 911 calls said the fires were all out before the towers collapsed, the fact that the buildings fell at free fall speed, which defies the laws of physics, the fact that Larry Silverstein has just had the buildings insured for billions, and ONLY the buildings he owned in the area, including WTC7 fell, but none of the other WTC buildings, not to mention the president's brother Marvin was the head of security at the towers and there was a power down the weekend before the attack...I mean, all these facts don't add up to a mountain of evidence that should worry every American. Ever heard of a coincidence?

MM: We'll be right back.

["Young, Dumb and Rich Bitch" by GwarTellica plays.]

NH: Axl Van Halen!

[Axl is clad in a jet-black pair of leather pants, with hot pink tassles hanging from the sides. He has decided to go with the bare feet, bare chest look for this match. His neck and wrists are adorned by black, spiked bands, and his nails are painted hot pink with shimmering glitter. His eyelids and lips are also covered in glitter, as well as his hair, which also shows off his bangs, which are highlighted pink.]

SW: *Coughcough*fag*coughcough*

MM: Pardon?

SW: Oh, nothing.

MM: Dustbuster Boy will no doubt be looking for payback after what Dustbuster Boy did to Oprah last week.

SW: I guess. It had to be a closed-casket for the funeral, she was so destroyed.

MM: You went to Oprah's funeral?

SW: I had to. He's my cousin. I felt bad. I spilled some chips at the wake, and asked if anybody had a dustbuster I could borrow.

["Suck It Up" by (hed)PE plays.]

NH: Blah blah blah, Dustbuster Boy!

SW: Oh, right. Fans, don't you dare tune onto that OTHER show, though I know you're highly tempted with this matchup. But last week, we kicked the ass of "The Jeffersons," "Sanford and Son," "Green Acres" and "Leave it to Beaver." Once again, we were the number one first-run show last week, for the third straight week. BOB is where the first-run boys play! Don't watch that crap. Watch THIS crap!

MM: Dusty rushes at Axl, but the Metal God hops backward onto the turnbuckle and Dusty crashes into the corner. Axl jumps down, turns around, and drops Dusty with a reverse DDT.

SW: Dusty just took a ride on the wild side.


MM: Axl with an Asia moonsault.

SW: Asia? You SURE you're not drunk this morning?

MM: Yes. Cover. But Dusty kicks out at two. Both men are back up and exchanging blows.

SW: I'm sure that's nothing new for Axl.

MM: Axl whips Dusty to the ropes and Axl runs from the opposite ropes. Hopping spike DDT by Van Halen.


SW: What an eruption. You ever notice that dude looks like a lady?

MM: Who, Dustbuster Boy?

SW: No you idiot! Axl!

MM: No, I never thought he looked like a woman. Does that mean he turns you on?

SW: No!

MM: You sure? You seem awfully upset.

SW: Fuck you, Monroe!


MM: Dustbuster Boy is on the outside now, trying to catch a breather. Keep your eye on Axl.

SW: I will not!

MM: Suicide plancha by Axl.


SW: What the hell is going on over there, Mike?

MM: Over where?

[There are several screams from the crowd, unrelated to the match, and the camera finds a man dressed all in black is throwing waffles at everyone.]

MM: Fans, my apologies. Our live audience is being pelted with waffles. Bodies are falling in every direction.

SW: Are they, *gulp* sticky?

MM: I pray to God they aren't. Fans, this is horrendous. What a terrible sight this is. Go to break, please. Don't give these stereotypists any more coverage.

SW: Get under the desk! We're under attack!

[As we return to the BOB Ballroom, fans are all standing around and staring, while others are cleaning waffle crumbs off themselves.]

MM: Well...we're back. And this match is continuing after that disruption by the radical stereotypist. Dustbuster Boy is bleeding from the nose.

SW: Did he get hit in the face with a waffle?

MM: No, just Dustbuster Boy's face. Are you coming out from under there?

SW: You SURE they're gone?

MM: Yes.

SW: Alright.

MM: Oh my. Hurricanrana from the ring apron on the floor. What a move by Van Halen.

SW: I heard Axl lives on mean street.

MM: Really? I didn't know that.

SW: Oh yeah. Hey, why is Heidi giving that guy mouth to mouth?

MM: I'm not sure.

SW: Well, if he isn't dying of a heart attack, he is the smartest man in the building.

MM: Axl stomping away on Dustbuster Boy. The fans are trying to enjoy this match, but they've been distracted by the stereotypist. My apologies to both men in this match.

SW: Screw the match. I want to know how BigBOSS is going to fix this situation. He needs to give us more security here so these people can't get into our audience. I mean, how hard is it to notice a guy dressed all in black carrying a huge sack full of waffles?

MM: Axl on the charge again. Beautiful senton bomb by Axl.

SW: Man, Dustbuster Boy has zero offense this morning. He must be too deep in grief to remember how to defend himself or something.

MM: Dustbuster Boy is tossed over the Flimsy Guardrail. But Axl isn't following. He comes charging again. Oh, but Dustbuster Boy catches Axl in mid, uh, whatever that was, with a kick. This could be the moment Dustbuster Boy's been waiting for. He has Axl down and has to get some offense going now.

SW: Come on, Dusty. Whoops.

MM: Scotty, you just spilled chips everywhere.


DB: *Cries*

SW: Whoops. Crap, I must stop asking that when he's around. Quit crying and avenge your stupid, dead dustbuster!

MM: Uh oh. He just grabbed a chair.

SW: I didn't mean she was stupid.

MM: Don't worry. He just put the chair on Axl's chest. And now he's got another chair and puts it on Axl's face. Dusty's got a third chair.

SW: Wow, BigBOSS went all out with the budget this morning. Three chairs?


MM: Running body splash by Dustbuster Boy. Axl just become part of a chair sandwich, Scotty.

SW: That's gotta be different. He's usually the meat in a man sandwich.

MM: But both men are hurt. Axl physically, and Dustbuster Boy is crying again.

SW: Does he have a vagina? Fucking a!

Speakers: s... s... s... s... *The biggest icon in wrestling* s... s... s... s... *We are in control* s... s... s... s... *K-Fed's new album, now on sale for $1.99 at your local Wal-Mart, along with a free, autographed Kevin Federline! He eats! He craps! He sings horrible music and bums off of you till you throw him out!* s... s... s... s... s... W... o.

Speakers: X...

["X Gonna Give it to Ya" follows on the speakers, as the arena fills with a bright, lime green light, as the new sWo X logo fills the screen.]

SW: Oh no. Don't tell me Pete Trable is going ultra-heel and bringing back the shitty Wrestling order of all time.

MM: Dusty has made it back to his feet, and is looking toward the entrance... but Reeve Gordon, the leader of the sWo, just walked over the Flimsy Guard-rail, with his girlfriend, Krystal Dawn, right by his side. Krys with a low blow kick to Dusty from behind.

SW: Sadly, that's the most action Dusty's gotten in the last year.

MM: Reeve is staring down at Axl, smirking. Reeve grabs Axl by his hair, and rolls him into the ring. Reeve slides in.

SW: According to my script, these two idiots he's with are The Fat Guy and Big Daddy Drool. Oh, I get it. That's so clever. Instead of "Cool," he replaced it with the word "Drool." *Whistles* That's high concept shit right there. He must've spent two seconds coming up with that one.

MM: Those two have Axl's arms, holding him in place. Krys slaps Axl in the face.

SW: Hey, here's some creative names for the other 250 members of the group. Dan "The Ditz" Ditzanin, Nic Nair and Matt and Jeff Party. See, I cleverly changed their names and made them into gimmickless people with shitty names.

MM: I believe they're already on the sWo roster.

SW: What! What about my tag team of TSNP, Johnny Thunder and Joey Saturday Night, with their manager Powerhour?

MM: No, they have Jonny Nitro and Joey Thunder.

SW: How the hell can they have Jonny Nitro? He's in the WWE. I mean, that proves he has low standards, but still. The sWo?

MM: I have no idea. The whole concept makes no sense to me. Reeve charges, but Axl gets free. Reeve crushes Dustbuster Boy with a gore.

SW: I haven't seen shit this overbooked since last Thursday night. You sure Russo isn't booking for two companies at once?

MM: Axl crawls over as the ring clears out. Cover on Dustbuster Boy. One. Two. Three. That's it. And sWo X not so successful getting at Axl Van Halen. Hold on, Krystal Dawn just slid into the ring and is getting up in Axl's face. Krys shoves Axl.

SW: I haven't been this bored since Monday night. You sure McMahon isn't booking for two companies at once?

MM: Tifa Bon Jovi is in the ring. Tifa hits a Lou Thesz press on Reeve's girlfriend.

[Cut to Styles.]


Styles: CAT--

SW: What the hell? Axl just pulled her off?

Styles: Never mind.

[Back to the ring.]

MM: Tifa's headed under the ring. She's setting it up next to the apron. Krys is set up on the table. What's going to happen here.

SW: Well, in a few seconds it looks like Krystal is gonna have to pull splinters out of her snatch.

MM: Oh, but Reeve just grabbed Krystal off the table.

SW: BOOOO! Don't tease me with violence against women!

MM: Axl has advanced in the tournament, but it looks like an old enemy has it out for him.

SW: Krystal better go through a table at Living In Sin. Or so help me...

MM: Settle down, Scotty. Take a deep breath and count to ten.

SW: One motherfucker...two motherfucker...

MM: We'll be right back with more action.

[Pete Trable was drinking a soda in a restaurant when none other than DJ Rawkus and MC Carjack appeared at his booth.]

DJ: Petizzle Trabizzle! Whazzupizzle?

MC: Yo, playa! You getting' yo' drink on, homeplate?

PT: Uh, yeah? Who are you two?

DJ: Yo, ain't you been peepin' out our promizzles? Yo, we be DJ Rawkus...

MC: And MC Carjack. And we be Lay-Z!

DJ: Representin' Lookout!

MC: Lookout, ho! Ho, ho!

PT: Yo, I'd love to give you an autograph
But I just gotta laugh
You two are completely pathetic
And makin' all the Xfactor's fans sick
You're like a Mac and you're a PC
Just a couple of nerds on my TV
You two look like a pair of dolts
When you wrestle in the big one, you'll choke worse than the Colts
Barney. Fife.

MC: Yo, dogg, the Colts be in the Super Bizzle!

DJ: That is how we dizzle!

MC: Yo, think about it wegro.

PT: Wegro?

MC: We could be X-Unit. We your boys, yo!

DJ: X-X-X-X-X-X-X-Uuuuuunit!

PT: Yo, you two stop, my ears, they're bleedin'
You gotta stop rappin', dudes, I'm pleadin'
This joke horse has been beaten, bloodied and shot
Seriously, is this the best gimmick you got?
If you're lookin' for an ally, this dude ain't it
You pissed off? I really don't give a--

[Knife in the air.]

Other customers: SHIT!

DJ: Wigga, please!

MC: Oh, you be so deadizzle, homeschool. We gonna get some krunk juice and then it's on like a neckbone, suckaizzle!

[Back to the BOB Ballroom. "Are We Ourselves" by the Fixx is playing.]

NH: Mr. Paradox intro!

MM: I bet DJ Rawkus and MC Carjack expected that to go better.

SW: Fo shizzle, Mikizzle. Lookizzle. It be Mr. Paradoxizzle.

MM: Please. Fans, these matches this morning are the last matches in the opening round of the Swiss Army Belt tournament. Next week, it's round two.

SW: Same crappy wrestlers. New crappy matches. Can't wait.

["Irish Song" by Denis Leary plays.]

NH: Gerald Fitzpatrick intro!

SW: Uh oh, this can't be good.

MM: What's that?

SW: This page in my script is blank.

[Cut backstage.]

Michelle Vincent: Dad, I have writer's block.

BigBOSS: *Sniff* You really ARE my daughter!

[BigBOSS hugs her. Back to the ring.]

NH: Here is your winner, Mr. Paradox!

MM: We'll be right back after these commercials.


[Styles was standing by with Snapmare Kid, Dubya and XXXtreme Machine.]

Styles: Tough night for Fingerbang XXX. SMK, how is Dubya?

SMK: Wet and splintery.

Styles: I see.

Dubya: Stylesy, don't worry about Dubya. He's tough. Dubya's won't will be broken by a table splash.

XM: hy lok itz tat fukin stwfr spm!!!

SMP: Are you talking to me? Seriously, are you talking to me? They didn't teach retardese when I was in school.

Dubya: Fingerbang XXX is watchin' you, Silly.

SMK: Damn STWFer!

SMP: Oh, great. Because I once worked there, I must have been the one who attacked my good...well, my somewhat of an acquaintance Steve Studnuts.

Dubya: You were intoxicated in the mindset of STWF. You could be brainwashed with their bananarama.

SMP: Hey guys, the short bus is out front. Good luck with the...yeah...

[SMP shakes his head and walks away in disgust. Elsewhere, just outside of the hotel, Little Good was on a cigarette break.]

Mully: Mr. Vacant?

Little Good: (Angrily) Excuse me?

Sculder: That is your name, isn't it Pretty?

LG: Bloody hell! What do you two spooks want?

Spooky: Just trying to follow along with the angle. BOB is so hard to follow if you're not paying attention.

Spectre: Go Little Good, go Little Good, go Little Good, GO!

Mully: I think he was talking to us.

LG: Sod off. All of you.

Sculder: I'm afraid we can't.

LG: And why's that?

Sculder: Ironically, we're here to abduct you.

LG: What's that now?

[Mully shoots Little Good with a taser gun. Little Good goes down in a quivering heap.]

Mully: Let's get him back to the Agency.

Sculder: Isn't it ironic that of all the times we could have abducted him that we waited until right now, mere moments before a severe ass kicking from Logonoa. It kind of makes you wonder who the bad guys are anymore, doesn't it?

Mully: Spooky.

Spooky: Yes?

Mully: Not you. Oh great. Sculder, get some plastic. He peed his pants.

[Back to the ballroom.]

SW: You gotta love it. We make a bunch of people pay for tickets to our show under the guise of wrestling and we rarely deliver any on SMC. When will people learn?

MM: Judging by Raw's attendance, sadly, not ever.

["The Humpty Dance" plays. Out walk Logonoa and his manager, Generic Foot Locker Employee.]

NH: The following...Logonoa!

MM: What a crazy morning it's been. STWF is invading. Huge six man to come.

SW: So let me get this straight. Little Good's name is Pretty Vacant?

MM: I guess his parents loved the Sex Pistols.

SW: Uh-huh...Man, I wonder if they named him that because he was conceived to that song. Or he was born when it was on. Or both. No wonder he's so bloody messed up.

[A very tinny version of "Pretty Vacant" by the Sex Pistols plays.]

MM: Scotty, shut that walkman off.

SW: You think I can afford an iPod on MY salary? Hell no.

[Meanwhile outside, Mully and Sculder are swinging a body bag back and forth behind an unmarked black van.

Sculder + Mully: One. Two. Throw!


LG: Oww.

Sculder: Guess we should have opened the back doors first.

[Back to the ring.]

NH: The winner, as a result of an abduction, Logonoa!

GFLE: Shut up joo! Nov, haha! Nov hear dees. My man here! Logonoa! Is joor next! Swiss Army! Belt holder! Hahaha! Even doe I! Have no clue! Vut accent! Dis is sup-! Posed to be! I give joo! The Deaf! Samoan! Logonoa! Maybe I am! De Spanish! Norvegian?

SW: Works for me.

[Logonoa begins writing on his marker board.]

Sign: Paradox fears me.

GFLE: Dat's da truth! Next veek, ha! Paradox! Joo vill face! Logonoa! He vill eat! Joor big sword! And he vill! Sheet blood, ha!

SW: Logonoa wants to swallow Paradox's sword? What?

[Logonoa taps GLFE on the shoulder and shake his head no.]

GFLE: How could joo! Hear me, Lo?

[Logonoa shrugs. He writes.]

Sign: Will Eat For Food!

MM: Lookout. It's Dr. Thrilla.

[Thrilla hits GFLE in the head with a stop sign, knocking him down, and then bashes Logonoa in the head with the sign. Logonoa collapses.]

SW: Damn it, don't all Samoans have extraordinarily hard heads?

MM: Apparently not Logonoa. Fans, we'll be right back.

SW: Next thing you'll be telling me that all Orientals aren't black belts in karate.

MM: Scotty, please.

SW: What? What'd I say?

Mike Monroe

[We return to a darkened room. Seth Harker is sitting on a chair across from Mike Monroe.]

MM: Seth. We wanted to talk to you in this very special one-on-one sit down interview to discuss some important things that have been going on in your life.

SH: Well thank goodness it's not a stand-up interview, because that would just destroy BOB's hard-hitting journalistic credibility, wouldn't it?

MM: There's been the attack on Steve Studnuts last week. Tension with you and Kay and Eliza. Michelle giving you grief because of your friendship with the comatose Trey Vincent, our former Vice President In Charge of Everything. Where shall we begin?

SH: Last time I checked, you were doing the interview, Edward R. Murrow.

MM: Okay. Well, let's start out with the attack by the STWF on Steve Studnuts. How is he?

SH: No idea.

MM: Oh...uh...well, what about this Eliza situation? Is she disruption your relationship with Kay Fabe?

SH: Not really, no.

MM: ...Uh, care to elaborate?

SH: Not particularly.

MM: You do realize this is an interview, right?

SH: Yes. And this is a chair. And that's a camera. And you're a moron. I'm not an idiot, Monroe. Maybe you should do some research on your interviewee.

MM: Okay, okay. Let's talk about Michelle Vincent. She told you that there will no longer be a Trey Vincent or Mystery Sports Entertainment Theater 3000. What are your thoughts on Michelle?

[Pigeon walks by the camera, apparently not noticing that there is an interview going on.]

SH: I don't think much about Michelle.

Pigeon: Oh, really? That's some tough talk, Harker. I hope you're willing to die for your beliefs.

SH: Did you not notice this was an interview with me? What about me? What about Seth?

Pigeon: I just happened to be walking by.

SH: So, you just happened to be walking by a locked room with a sign hung on it that says "Quiet On The Cheap Set," at the far end of the hotel on a day off in a room and then when you got inside you didn't notice the "special interview" lighting, the camera, the boom mic, these chairs or me and Monotone sitting in them? I don't believe in coincidences.

Pigeon: What a coincidence. Neither do I. Harker, you've scorned my woman. Next week, prepare to die. I challenge you to a Parts Unknown Death Match for our ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS tournament match.

SH: What are the rules?

Pigeon: They're so dangerous that even I don't know what the rules are. And neither do you.

SH: Fitting enough, since I never have a clue what's going on around here anyway.

Pigeon: I am an arms dealer
Fitting you with weapons in the form of words
And I don't really care, which side wins
As long as the room keeps singing
That's just the business I'm in

This ain't a scene, it’s a damn arms race
This ain't a scene, it’s a damn arms race
This ain't a scene, it’s a damn arms race
I'm not a shoulder to cry on, but I digress

I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate, oh so intricate
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate, oh so intricate

Pigeon: Quote the Pigeon, Fall Out Boy.

[Back to the ring. "Domo Origoto Mr. Roboto" is playing.]

NH: Atomo intro!

SW: I don't get these introductions by Heidi this morning. You'd think she was on a plane somewhere between New Jersey and Texas when this script was being written or something.

MM: She's still better than Scuzz ever was.

SW: Well, I heard Scuzz is doing great in his new job as the indecipherable voice on a Boston subway.

["Ride of the Valkryies" plays.]

NH: Ken intro goes here!

[The Flunky pulls out a large ramp. The sound of a motorbike being revved is heard.]

MM: Here comes Kamikazie Ken.




SW: BWAHAHAHAHA! The ramp was too big.

MM: Kamikazie Ken is wedged head-first into the ceiling of the BOB Ballroom. Oh no. Generic Ref is starting the ten count. Ken is trying to push himself free.

SW: Being implanted in the ceiling over the ring doesn't count. Oh, man. Maybe they could have a stairway to Ken ladder match next. First man to get Ken out of the ceiling wins.

MM: That might not be such a bad idea. I don't know how else we'll get him out of there.

NH: The winner as a result of a count out, Atomo the Living Robot!


[Ken, covered in white dust and several bits of the ceiling, crashes down into the ring. Dust goes flying everywhere.]

SW: *cough* Can I sue if I get lung cancer from this? *cough*

MM: *cough* I know I will.

SW: Let's send it *cough* backstage to Styles, who is with the Doobie Brothers. *cough*


[Styles is in a hallway with douja, Kurt Angel and Rob Van Spam.]

Styles: Lots to talk about with you three, so let's start with you Rob Van Spam. Next week in a Swiss Army Belt tournament match, you've got to get by XXXtreme Machine.

RVS: Dood. XXXtreme Machine, you want well favored virgin lady? Cordial schoolgirls doing beautiful sucking. Well favored teens in bukkake action. Fabulous bang-trip among the sheep. There is an easy fix for your lovelife. Babysitting. Uncle BOBO needs you. Poop teen. Want to be a father of the whole kindergarten? Try spermamex!

Styles: Uhhh, yeah. douja and Kurt, I understand you both have some words for SMP?

KA: I sure do, Mikey Styles. Plants. Next week I'm challening you to a match, buster. You see, at Living In Sin, it'll be SMP vs. douja, where douja will easily prove why he's the BOB Legend Champion once again. Now, I've only wrestled people as old as you before in Heaven, and the rules are a bit different here on Earth. So, I'll do my best to leave your hips in tact. I'll try not to break y our ankle. And I'll damn sure try not to snap your neck with the Angel's Wings. So pop in your dentures and get yourself ready to wrestle the greatest fallen angel of this generation. Not false, so not damn false!

Douja: don't worry 'bout fuckin' up ol' SMP. maybe we should get all da bitches who's titties he fucked up in da past and have us a lumberho match. what you say 'bout dat Jurassic M. Park??? i am da legend champion. i got the ispep endorsement. and just like Ispep, i'm da choice of a brain dead gen'ration.

Styles: We'll be right back.

MM: Welcome back everyone. While we were in break, all six men in our main event started this fight early.

SW: It's been total chaos out here. Guys were fighting in the crowd and all over the ballroom. It's like we went to a wrestling show and a hockey game broke out.

MM: Death with a knee lift on Jim. Death with a tag in to Lord Athackkimentham. But Jim's up and hits a dropkick to both Death and Lord Athackkimentham. Jim charges at Athackkimentham, but runs right into a headlock takeover.

SW: What's up with Athackkimentham worshipping Santa? I mean, I know Santa's a bastard, I've seen all the Christmas shows where he treats the elves like he's a dictator, tries to cancel Christmas, and makes misfit reindeers cry like little bitches.

MM: Uber Vamp is in. And he's pounding away on Jim. Athackkimentham's up top. They combine for a spike piledriver on Jim. And Jim in trouble now.

SW: Thank you Captain Obvious.

MM: Vamp drags Jim up. Transylvanian drop. Uber Vamp is absolutely ruthless here.

SW: What do you expect? He doesn't have a soul.

MM: You mean because he's a vampire?

SW: No. I mean because he worked for the WWE for so many years. McMahon feeds on them.

MM: Running clothesline takes Jim down again. And there's a neckbreaker. And a twisting elbow drop. Now he's heading up top.

SW: He is? Let's see if this vampire can fly.

MM: Jim moved. But Uber Vamp grabs Jim and lands a headbutt. Back suplex. The fans are trying to rally Jim.

SW: Somebody should tell these idiots it's a work...

MM: Tag in to Athackkimentham. Double back suplex coming up. No. Jim breaks free and dives for the tag. Here comes Massive Man. Flying kick from the top rope takes Athackkimentham down. Sideways Effect. Cover. One. Two.

SW: Yes, Death makes the save.

MM: All hell is breaking loose now. Everybody is brawling in the ring.

SW: Netherworld Powerbomb on Massive Man!

MM: Athackkimentham tosses Bannister to the floor.

SW: Bannister's used to getting ejected after fights.

MM: Now Jim and Uber Vamp are fighting. Massive Man with a neckbreaker on Athackkimentham. And there's an underhook suplex. Cover. But he only gets a one. Massive Man hooks Athackkimentham for an inverted Russian leg sweep. And there's a tag into Bannister.

SW: Hey! He just slipped on a barbed wire hockey glove! No wonder he got banned from the NHL.

MM: Oh, he just decked Athackkimentham. Cover. One. Two. No.

SW: Take that glove away, Ref!

MM: Somehow Athackkimentham got out. Bannister picks him up and there's a sidewalk slam. And now Bannister is using his specialty of punching. There's the Slapshot. That should be it. One. Two.

SW: Phew. Death just got there in time. Fists are flying. So are beer cups, ice, popcorn, plastic bottles and, a steel chair? Is this a wrestling show or an NBA game?

MM: It's getting hard to tell. Even the fans are fighting. It's total Iraq out here.

SW: Holy crap, it's like the end of every episode of Monday Nitro from 1996 to 1998 out here.

MM: Red mist by Lord Athackkimentham to Bannister. He pulls Bannister into the corner. He just hit his finisher, Brush The Dust Away. Jim's in. He grabs Lord A. Krew Kutter connects. Now Uber Vamp grabs Jim. Impaler DDT. And here comes Massive Man. Leap of Fate on Uber Vamp.

[Death stumbles into the ring.]

SW: Does Death look taller than usual? And fleshier?

MM: Massive Man with a Touch Of Death on Death?

SW: Did Death just no-sell his own finisher?

MM: Massive Man with a dropkick to Death who...splits in two?

SW: Hey, it's Coma and Hallucination Boy.

MM: The BOB tag champs were disguised as Death.

Coma: Kniop!

HB: Niarti! *Dives*

MM: The real Death is behind a very confused Massive Man. Sideslam by Death. And Massive Man rolls out of the ring. Oh no. Jean Bannister is all alone in the ring with the Skull & Bones Society and Coma and Hallucination Boy.

SW: What are Coma doing?

MM: Oh no. It's the clear mist! Coma and Hallucination Boy with a double clear mist right into Bannister's face.

SW: Wasn't that just water?

MM: Deadly, blinding water. Death has Bannister hooked. Netherworld Powerbomb connects. One. Two. Three. Unbelievable.

SW: And look. Coma and Hallucination Boy were holding back Jim and Massive Man so they couldn't make the save. They are so evil.

Coma: Fran!

SW: What is up with Coma? Is he evil so he says 'poink' and 'narf' backwards?

MM: He's evil all right. And it looks to me like they're the newest members of the Skull & Bones Society.

SW: Please. They should only be part of the Brain & Dead Society. Not the most elite group in BOB today.

Coma: Peen!

MM: What a shocking--

SW: And stupid!

MM: Way to end another edition of SMC.

SW: Ahh! Waffle man! Oh wait, that's just an empty chair. My bad.

MM: You're forever traumatized, aren't you?

SW: Life's been one trauma after another since that asshole slapped me at birth.

MM: Hold on. It looks like we've got trouble in the ring. Jim and Massive Man look pissed off at Bannister.

SW: Heh, looks like it's back to Sweden for that goon.

MM: Lookout. The Golden Girls are slowly trying to make their way into the ring.

SW: But they can't bend down to get between the ropes because they're so frigging old!

MM: Are Jim and Massive Man about to unload on Jim Bannister?

MMR1: Yeah, you think you can cost us a match? You think you can wreck our T-shirt sales? You think you're Totally Face? Well you better get bow to the master...OF JOSHITUDE!

TP: That’s right boy. And just remember kids….

MMR1: We’re back, and we’re still better than y’all.

[Massive Man and Jim pull out T-shirts from their boots and put them on.]

SW: Regeneration X? Is this the new gimmick for the former Kent State Krew? This has bad idea written all over it.

MM: So does the back of their T-shirt.

SW: Oh yeah, look at that.

MM: Bannister is ready to take on both members of Regeneration X. Right now he's only being assaulted with a barrage of crotch chops.

SW: Whoops, looks like Massive Man just accidentally smashed his testicles with that crotch chop.

MM: Bannister has dropped the proverbial gloves. He's begging either Jim or Massive Man to attack him. Fans, we're out of time.

Voiceover: Jimmy, I want a cookie.

[Sounds of cookie jars breaking fill the ballroom.]

SW: Is Hardcore JJ here too?

MM: I don't know! Fans, we're out of time.

SW: NO! I want to see everybody get dropped!

MM: For Scotty Whatbody, this is Mike Monroe saying good morning everybody!

©2007 BOB Wrestling! It's better to be a no-talent has-been than a talented never-was!


© BOB Wrestling!

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