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Sunday Morning Chloroform 38

[In the lobby of the Riviera Hotel, Seth Harker and Eliza were sitting on a couch chatting. Harker snorted loudly just in time as Kay Fabe walked up from behind them and then Eliza cackled loudly.]

KF: What's so funny?

SH: Oh, hey Kay. Eliza was just telling me a funny joke about an Amish woman and her daughter. Tell her, Eliza.

ETJS: Okay! So, an Amish woman and her daughter were riding in an old buggy one cold blustery day. The daughter said to her mother, "My hands are freezing cold." The mother replied, "Put them between your legs. Your body heat will warm them up." So the daughter did and her hands warmed up.

ETJS: The next day the daughter was riding with her boyfriend and the boyfriend said "My hands are freezing cold." The girl said "Put them between my legs, the warmth of my body will warm them up". So he did and warmed his hands. The following day the boyfriend was again in the buggy with the daughter. He said "My nose is cold." The girl replied "Put it between my legs, the warmth of my body will warm it up." So he did and his nose began to get warm.

ETJS: He lifted his head up from between the girls legs and said "Do you know what? I think my penis is frozen solid" The following day the daughter was driving in the buggy with her mother, and she says to her mother, "Have you ever heard of a penis?" Slightly concerned the mother said, "Why, yes. Why do you ask?" The daughter replies, "Well they make one hell of a mess when they defrost, don't they?"

[Eliza and Seth laugh. Kay just stands there.]

KF: Yeah, funny.

SH: What's wrong with you?

KF: Well, let's put it this way, Seth. If you ever want to make one hell of a mess with me again, you better stop hanging out with that...that...what are you anyway?

ETJS: A Jobber Slayer. (She stands up.) If you want to keep your man, why not treat him like a man and not like he's some subject of yours. As far as I'm concerned, you're far too tan for him anyway.

KF: Too what? Okay, you seriously need to be killed by me.

SH: Ladies, please. This is ridiculous.

[A cartoon Trey Vincent walks into the shot.]

CTV: Ladies, never fear. You can have a foursome with Trey Vincent.

SH: Foursome?


SH: Huh?

[Cartoon Trey vanishes. Harker rubs his eyes.]

SH: Okay, what the HELL just happened there? Didn't you two see that?

KF: See what? Some other girl who isn't me you want to have a foursome with?

SH: No, I don't want a foursome. That was Cartoon Trey.

ETJS: Yeah...I think I need to, uh...go. Away now. Good luck in your match this morning Seth. I'll be rooting for you.

[A mighty confused Harker scratches his head and looks at Kay. He's so confused he almost has an expression.]

KF: Bored now.

[She walks away.]

SH: I must have imagined that.

[Cartoon Trey Vincent dances back into the scene.]

TV: We come together because opposites attract. And you know...

[Seth stares blankly at Trey's dancing.]

SH: Okay. This is now beyond ridiculous.

[Meanwhile, Pigeon is outside.]

Pigeon: Seth Harker. This morning, you and I will meet in a Parts Unknown Death Match. I still have no idea what that means. What I do have an idea of is that I'm going to beat you until you have amnesia. And then when you're cured from your amnesia...well, you probably won't remember that you forgot. But you better be ready to bleed, and if I beat you bad enough, maybe you'll even crap your pants. Right now, you're only on death's doorstep, but after our match, you're going to be in death's house.

Death (offscreen): My ears are ringing.

Pigeon: And unrequired love. Once again in an effort to woo your heart to mine until they are entwined like Siamese twins. I have found more lyrics from the Internet for you.

Pigeon: Take a look at my girlfriend
She's the only one I got
Not much of a girlfriend
I never seem to get a lot

It's been some time since we last spoke
This is gonna sound like a bad joke
But momma I fell in love again
It's safe to say I have a new girlfriend

And I know it sounds so old
But cupid got me in a chokehold
And I'm afraid I might give in
Towels on the mat my white flag is wavin'

Pigeon: Quoth the Pigeon, Gym Class Heroes!

Sunday Morning Chloroform Logo

The Only Thing We Have To Fear Is...Everything!

[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.]

Mike Monroe: Hello everyone, and welcome to another edition of Sunday Morning Chloroform. As you can see, the entire BOB roster is in and around the ring. And we're just waiting on the arrival of BigBOSS, who has called for a meeting to start off the show.

Scotty Whatbody: Yep, because who wants to see that pesky rasslin' crap on a wrestling show anymore. Next thing, people will be going to music concerts expecting to hear musicians play songs instead of talking about playing songs, and then playing little clips of them.

MM: Mr. Sarcasm is in full effect this morning.

SW: Well, I did have a week to rest up. I can't believe a frigging waffle shut down our show.

MM: There are rumblings that BigBOSS overreacted just a little bit last week.

SW: Well, if an LED board can shut down an entire city, nothing should surprise me anymore.

Ghostie: BOOOO!

SW: AHHH! Damn it Ghostie!

Ghostie: Surprise.

SW: Make yourself corporeal so I can kick your ass! Hell, possess Monroe's body so I can kick both your asses at once.

["Taking Care of Business" begins playing.]

SW: Just like BigBOSS, always has to arrive fashionably late to meetings.

MM: I can't wait to hear what he has to say about the STWF.

SW: I can't wait to see Michelle bend over and get in the ring. And there it is. Oh baby.

MM: Aren't you worried about the STWF, Scotty?

SW: Of course I am. I was nearly waffled a couple of weeks ago. But I have my priorities straight. Think about sex, then food. Then think more about sex. Then food. And some more sex...and some more food, then more sex. Then sleep. Repeat.

MM: I think you just hide all your worries with some sort of mean, racist or sexist comment.

SW: Fuck you, you bagpipe-blowing puss smack.

MM: See what I mean?

SW: Whatever, Rory McRobbie.

BigBOSS: Hello underlings. And hello Sin City!

Fans: Hi!

BigB: First off, my apologies about last week's security scare. We don't want anybody else to suffer from a waffling. This is the world we live in these days. Sure, the odds are better that the average person would have a fatal accident in a shower, get hit by lightning or even win an Academy Award than become a victim of a waffle attack... But those are just statistics. What do they prove, really?

BigB: I know you've all been asking me for updates on the last couple of weeks, so here's what I can tell you right now. First off, just because douja, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, Massive Man, Coma, Kamikazie Ken and "Totally Packaged" Jim used to be in the STWF, that is no reason to start suspecting them. I mean, sure, it's quite possible that any four of them, or even ALL of them are in on it. But that would just be wild speculation on my part and would probably just do them more harm than good. So, forget I even mentioned it.

[Everybody begins eyeing the former STWFers.]

BigB: Anyway...I haven't heard from Steve Studnuts, but I'm sure he's doing fine rehabbing his injuries and we'll see him back someday. Or not. I really have no idea. Say, douja, didn't you hate Studnuts a LOT? I mean, it sure would do you some good if he was eliminated, wouldn't it?

douja: yo, dat's some fucked up shit you be smokin'! i didn't fuck that motha' focker up. and you know i'd be bragging about it if i did. just like i'mma fuck up smp!

SMP: Please. The only thing you are able to fuck up are the things you've mastered fucking up at. Such as the English language. Wrestling. Grooming. Hygiene. Breathing. I could just keep going, this is fun.

BigB: What about you, SMP?

SMP: Hold on there a second. What happened to never mentioning it?

BigB: This is MY company. I won't have any lowly underlings trying to usurp me and run my company better than me. No offense, Michelle.

MV: Huh?

BigB: So, you're saying you didn't brutally attack Steve Studnuts with a UMD? Maybe because he tried to make you stay in his pool house?

SMP: The only person whose career I wish to end is this pot-smoking bush baby.

douja: yo, is that racist?

Kurt Angel: It's racist. It's DAMN racist.

SMP: Oh, it is not.

BigB: Alright, let's refocus.

[Massive Man and Jim get in the ring, both sporting their brand new Regeneration-X T-shirts, on sale in the Crap Zone.]

MMR1: We have something we'd like to say to you, BigBOSS.

BigB: Oh, really? Are you behind the waffle attack?

TP: No. But we are...the behinds. And we've got two words for you, BigBOSS.

MMR1 + Jim: KISS IT!

[Jim and Massive Man moon BigBOSS. The ladies in the crowd cheer and cameras flash.]

MV: Wow, those are some nice asses.




TP: Yehoo!

BigB: I find your behavior utterly edgy and appealing to the 18-35-year-old demographic. How dare you show me your shaved buttocks.

SW: Hey Kay! You should moon me. It'll totally make Seth jealous.

KF: Yeah-no.

SH: Watch it, Whatbody.

BigB: I'm watching you. Both of you.

[MMR1 and Jim laugh.]

MMR1: Gay for us much?

BigB: Oh, people, please. I didn't mean in a homosexual way. No offense, Axl.

Axl Van Halen: What?

BigB: Look. We could keep accusing you four, and Kamikazie Ken and Coma, of being the masterminds behind these attacks all day. But unfortunately, we have the rest of the show to get to. So, my last piece of business is to announce that I am accepting applications for a BOB commissioner. This person will be in charge of, commissionary stuff. Such as making a plan on how to fight the STWFers. I need somebody smart. Somebody ruthless. And somebody to do all the work I'm supposed to do. The future of this company depends on this person for the survival of this federation. Thank you. Now let's go put on a BOB show these fans will never forget.

SW: Hmm...Commissioner Whatbody...could be good.

MM: It'd mean more work.

SW: Oh. Screw it then.

MM: We'll be right back.

["Toxic" by Britney Spears is playing as we return.]

Nurse Heidi: The opening contest is a tournament match for the T&A XX Division Title. Introducing first. Queen Mylisiv!

[She gets booed by most of the crowd and whistled at by a good number of blue-skin fetishists in the house.]

SW: If her and Zeno have kids, what color skin do you think they'd be?

MM: I don't know. Fuschia?

SW: Same to you, asshole. I'm just trying to make conversation.

MM: No, that's a color.

SW: Oh. My bad.

["Come To My Window" by Melissa Etheridge plays. The crowd responds with boos for the song. Or maybe it's for Kay Fabe, I don't know.]

NH: And her opponent. From Cloudydale, Connecticut, this is Kay Fabe!

SW: Oh boy, Kay Fabe's gone all lesbo.

MM: What do you mean?

SW: Listen to that song. That's about as gay as you can get. Melissa Etheridge? I guess Seth's gonna have to bang that goth chick if he wants any kind of action.

MM: Kay just collapsed. She's crying, Scotty.

SW: You sure she didn't just scrap her knees falling for me?

MM: She's wearing kneepads, so I highly doubt it.

SW: Ooh, nothing better than a girl wearing kneepads. Woohoo!

MM: Oh, this couldn't get any worse for Kay. Her relationship is in such trouble with Seth Harker.

[Eliza "The Jobber Slayer" runs out.]

ETJS: Hey, Kay. Check out this picture of me peeing on your dog's grave! AHAHAHAHAHA!

KF: No, Scruffy! Noooooo! *Cries*

[Styles walks out with a duffel bag.]

Styles: Sorry to tell you this, but it looks like somebody took a dump in your bag.

KF: No, my clothes! Noooooo! *Cries*

[Styles leaves. Here comes The Undietaker out to a big pop until they realize it's the UNDIEtaker.]

MM: Oh, please. Leave the poor girl alone.

SW: Kay Fabe is about to be going commando.


KF: No, my panties! Nooooo! *Cries*

SW: Well, at least she won't have an excuse to not let Seth get in her panties this morning. She doesn't have any!

MM: How can you be so callous?

SW: Years of working here, Monroe.

MM: Well, here comes Seth to help Kay to the back. Meanwhile, it looks like Queen Mylisiv has won this one by, I don't know, count out or forfeit. Let's go to Nurse Heidi for the official word.

NH: Here is your winner via I have no frickin' idea, Mike. Queen Mylisiv!

MM: All right then.

[Meanwhile, in BigBOSSes suite, Fingerbang XXX, comprised of XXXtreme Machine, Snapmare Kid and Dubya, is with BigBOSS and Michelle.]

XM: wat tge fuk!!!!! im so pist I cood tare mi groyn!!!

Dubya: They stole our gimmick!

SMK: They stole our gimmick!

XM: thay stool r gimik!!!

MV: Listen, guys. You're jobbers. They're main eventers. So, screw you guys until you can speak English or do more than one move. And for the sake of reality, you stole your gimmick.

SMK: We stole our gimmick? I'll snapmare you to kingdom come!

[SMK grabs Michelle by the head.]

BigB: Let her go or you're contract is extended for less money!

SMK: Argh!

Dubya: My fellow Fingerbangers. We will not make any fiends by attacking our bosses. BigBOSS. GirlBOSS. My deepest apologies for this outbreak.

BigB: That's alright, Dubya. What can I do for you?

Dubya: I would like to be the commissar of BOB.

BigB: You mean, commissioner?

Dubya: That's what I said.

BigB: No, it isn't.

Dubya: It doesn't take a nucular scientist or a libarian to know what I said.

BigB: Right. Anyway. If you want to apply, here's a form. Sorry there's no spell check or grammar check for you, but, you know, it's a piece of paper. And I know you're not quite as smart as a computer...

Dubya: Not a problem, BigBOSSy. I'll be the best dern commish ever.

XM: butt thay stool r gimik!!!

Dubya: Let's go boys. Our work here has just begun.

[As we return, somewhere in the hotel, the camera caught Sir Zeno, Mr. Paradox, Dr. Thrilla and Queen Mylisiv all huddled up.]

MM: Uh-oh. I wonder what those four are planning.

SW: Why doesn't Kamkorder Kid just go over so we can hear what they're saying?

MM: I'm sure it's a bunch of no-good stuff, that's what I think.

[Back to the BOB Ballroom. "I Don't Like The Drugs (But The Drugs Like Me)" by Marilyn Manson is playing.]

NH: The following is a special grudge match. Introducing first, from the south side of Heaven. Weighing 220 pounds, Kurt Angel.


MM: Will the STWF strike BOB again this morning? I must tell you fans, I keep looking over my shoulders.

SW: Yeah, maybe you should get a better dandruff shampoo. It looks like it snowed on you. Geez, man.

MM: I'm not talking about that. I'm making sure that those sneaky STWFers aren't sneaking up on us all sneaky.

SW: Yeah, wearing sneakers and listening to the Sneaker Pimps.

["Smooth Operator" by Sade plays. The crowd begins cheering.]

NH: And his opponent...

SW: Whoa!

MM: My goodness. Heidi just kicked Kurt Angel right in the...

SW: Heavenly jewels. Heidi comes through Plants.

NH: Dr. Silaconne M. Plants!

MM: Well, this certainly gives Plants an early advantage.

SW: Heidicanrana on Angel.

MM: Generic Ref has lost all control of this one. But the bell hasn't even rung yet since Plants is just now getting in the ring. And there's the bell. And Plants is pounding away on Angel, and listen to this crowd.

SW: Better yet, listen to this. *BURRRRRRRRRRP*

MM: Plants is just taking it to Kurt Angel here as one of the greatest of the past meets one of the greatest of the present.

SW: I wouldn't exactly call Angel "great," Mikey.

MM: Nipple Cutter. This one's gonna be quick and easy.

SW: Just like Heidi.

MM: douja's in. He just broke up the cover. And there's the bell.

SW: A DQ? Oh, man. Lame. This beatdown better be magnificent.

MM: Rob Van Spam and douja have the number advantage on Plants, and the Sinister Surgeon is in serious trouble.

SW: Yeah, he doesn't have any friends since he's such a prick to deal with.

MM: douja just pulled something out. Are those...seatbelts?

SW: Seatbelts? Who has seatbelts in their boot?

MM: Apparently douja does. RVS and Angel are dragging SMP to the corner. Oh no, they're belting his hands to the ropes.


SW: Yep, his arms are locked in there good now. They've fastened the lock and tightened the straps as far as they can go. I'm guessing this is to set up their Moving Bus match?

MM: It sure looks like it. Those belts must be from a bus. And RVS and Angel continue to stomp away on Plants in the corner. What is douja doing under the ring.

SW: A car tire? Alright, I've NEVER seen any wrestler get a tire from under the ring before. Why would that even be under the ring?

MM: Oh, I don't like the looks of this at all.

SW: Yeah. The Stoned Temple Pilots are totally taking out the Sinister Surgeon. And Heidi can only look on in horror and scream 'no, no', because that's what the script tells her to do.

NH: No! No!

SW: See?


SW: Settle down, Mikey.

MM: *Ahem* Sorry. My keyboard locked up. I mean...throat. Throat locked up. And douja drops the tire down onto SMP's nether regions.

NH: No! No!

SW: SMP's looking a little run down after that one.

MM: Now the tire is in between Plant's legs. douja charges and hits a baseball slide dropkick. Oh, this is horrific.

NH: No! No!

SW: Don't tread on SMP.

MM: douja digging into his other boot. That looks like a plastic toy bus, Scotty.

SW: I had one of those when I was a kid. I set mine on fire and dropped it over a cliff. I wonder if the little passengers survived.

MM: You did that when you were a kid? What a disturbing childhood you had.

SW: No, I didn't do that when I was a kid. Sheesh. I did it last year when I was bored with no heel commentating to do. I imagined them screaming. AHHHHhhhhhhhhh bang!

MM: douja is bashing SMP over the head with that toy bus. And SMP is lacerated.

SW: That has to be a hardway cut, because there's no way he could've bladed with his arms tied up like that.

MM: Scotty, please.

SW: douja has sure sent a message here this morning. I guess he's the heel, so, yay douja!

SMP: I'll kill you, you sonofabitch!

SW: Kill? Hmm, that sounds heelish. Go SMP!

douja: fuck you smp!

SW: Yeah, go douja!

SMP: Pete Trable is blacker than you!

SW: Oooooh, burn! Man, I don't know who to cheer.

MM: Fans, we've got to take a break and figure out how to get SMP loose from those seatbelts. We'll be right back.

[As we return to the BOB Ballroom, "X Gonna Give It To Ya" by DMX is playing.]

SW: Shouldn't Heidi be doing the announcing? Where is she?

MM: She was helping out SMP in the back. I think she's stitching up that cut.

SW: So there's nobody out here to do ring introductions? Great. Heidi's shirking her duties again. When are we gonna fire her?

[The DMX song cuts off.]

Disembodied Voice Of The Undietaker: Scotty. I can provide ring introductions, and I don't even need to be in the Ballroom.

SW: Really? I don't know. I'd much rather look at some hot chick.

Disembodied Voice Of The Undietaker: Oooh, undies...

SW: Taker? Taker? Hello?

MM: Who are you talking to, Scotty?

SW: didn't hear that?

MM: Are you hearing voices again?

SW: ... No.

MM: Next thing you know you'll be seeing cartoon characters dancing.

SW: I didn't really see Dancing Trey?

MM: Dancing Trey?

SW: What is going on?

Voiceover: Hey Carjack, why don't you put that big ol' 12-inch on my turntable?

["Thumpin in Da Howse" plays as DJ Rawkus and MC Carjack make their way to the ring as the fans boo loudly.]

MM: It's Lay-Z.

SW: Don't tell me they're going to be the ring announcers?

MC: Yo yo yo yo yo! Whazzizzle upizzle Sizzle Cizzle?


DJ: Da followin' fight be a match in the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS tour'ment.

["X Gonna Give It To Ya" by DMX plays again.]

DJ: From Fresno!

MC: Fresno, ho! HOOOO ho!

DJ: This dude be Petizzle Trabizzle!

MM: Well, I guess having tag team ring announcing is innovative?

SW: Yeah, great.


*Meaningless Explosion Pop!*

SW: What the HELL was that explosion?

MM: Pyro. Apparently BigBOSS decided to amp up the number of meaningless explosions per show to compete with that other company.

SW: Oh, that one on MTV? But he could never afford pyro before.

MM: I don't understand it either, Scotty. All I know is this match is going to be explosive, raw, extreme and total nonstop impaction.

["Mental Hell" by the Ramones plays. The crowd erupts in cheers.]

SW: Now there's an appropriate song for Coma.

DJ: And his oPPOOOOOnent! From Parts Forgotten!

MC: Forgotten, ho! Hoooo ho!

DJ: This be, Amocizzle!

SW: Is Amoc his "evil" name?

MM: It seems that way.

SW: So, despite apparently joining the dark side, now Coma is getting even bigger pops from the fans? How is that possible? Granted, I never understood why he EVER got pops.

MM: This is Sin City. The fans can cheer for whoever they want. We don't force anybody down our viewers throats. Say, how about that Pete Trable, Scotty? Isn't he the greatest wrestler alive today? What a credible, outstanding champion he'd make.

SW: This is Pete TRABLE we're talking about, right?

MM: Trable's got the mic.

PT: Yo. Yoyoyoyoyo.

[Fans throw yoyos into the ring like they're streamers at a Japanese show, and then pull them back.]

Coma: Pretty colors are in my brain, fran!

PT: Oooookay. Yo Coma, or Amoc, I've got some words to say to you.
You used to make the fans cheer, now you make them boo.

*Heel Pop!*

SW: Way to improve, Trable.

PT: You may be BigBOSS's favorite find.
But dude, you got the brain capacity of a gerbil's mind.
It might even be that gerbil from Richard Gere.
You know, the one he shoved up his ass and it disappeared.
All you do is say poink and 'narf.'
And all you make me wanna do is barf.
You're pathetic, you should get out of the game.
And the Skull & Bones Society is totally lame.
So this morning, if your feeling henny, cluck.
I'll end your career cuz I just don't give a--

[Mic in the air.]

Crowd: FUCK!

SW: Michelle, stop writing raps for Trable. Good lord that was beyond lame.

MM: Coma just grabbed the microphone.

SW: Is Coma going to rap?

Coma: The professor of jobbinoutrics thinks I'm a bit crazy.
Of course I'm a guy who doesn't mind talking to daisies, peen!
I heard it from everyone, even Hallucination Boy.
The Trojans are attacking, retreat at once to Troy!
Petizzle, you're just jealous because of this gold thing.
My bling bling bling, bling bling bling, bling bling bling, hello?
A lot of wrestlers don't know how to defeat me
And now I'm gonna count to three...
Representin' S and B, oy oy oy!
Fran Efil!

SW: Narf life indeed...

[Coma gets a standing ovation from the crowd. Trable is perplexed.]

MM: Fans, we'll be right back with the match. Trable vs. Coma. Don't go anywhere.

MM: Welcome back fans. Trable is pounding away on Coma as you can see. Trable going for a Russian leg sweep, no, instead he opts for a very low kick.

SW: Trable's darn trick knee.

MM: And there's a suplex. Trable drops an elbow.

SW: Look at these idiots trying to break dance on the floor.

MC: anybody have any lotion?

DJ: Whoa, dogg, your back's redizzle!

SW: Why am I suddenly hungry for M&M's. That always seems to happen whenever I see wiggers.

DJ: Yo devil, he jus' called us wiggers!

MC: Oh no he din't!

DJ: Oh yes he did!

MC: Don't be hatin' on our culture, Whatbody! You betta make your reparations, home skillet!

SW: Don't you two have a match to interfere in?

MC: What, you just assume cuz a devil be out here that we gonna interject us-selves in the match?

DJ: That be racist profiling, home movie!

SW: If you two don't leave me alone, I'm gonna burn a giant clock on your front lawn!

MC: Yo, call the AC-muthafuckin'-LU!

MM: Trable with a jumpover neckbreaker. And now Coma is locked in. Trable with the body scissors and the headlock cinched in. But Coma's fighting his way up. He breaks free. Tilt-a-whirl Chicken Choke. And there's a Nelson Roll. Oh, and what a Full Driver.

SW: You ever felt like you wanted to just rip somebody's arm off and beat them to death with it?

MM: Only every Sunday morning. *Ahem*

SW: Well, you know how I feel about Lay-Z. It's hard to believe these two beat out 2,000,000 other sperm.

MM: Trable driving his knee repeatedly into Coma's midsection. Trable with a standing suplex on Coma. Look at this hangtime.

SW: Too bad all the blood rushing to Coma's head won't improve his IQ. You know one-celled organisms out score him in IQ tests.

MM: Trable slapping away on Coma. But that just seems to have revived Coma. Swinging Bite by Coma.

SW: It's Coma the Cannibal. It's Comabal.

MM: Here it is, the Grounded Flurry. Oh, but Trable with a desperate low blow. Coma collapses in the corner, and Trable charges with a hard dropkick to Coma's face.

SW: Hit him somewhere where it'll hurt, dumbass.

MM: Coma's fighting back. Atomic Attack. Baseball Powerbomb.

GR: Safe!

MM: Both men charge at each other. Oh, double knockdown as both men connect with a helluva blow. Who will get up first?

MC: Keep it on the realz, Petizzle!

DJ: Fresno! Fresno! Fresno!


SW: That chant went over well with the bloodthirsty Sin City fans. I like this crowd a lot better than those old people. Plus, did you see how much BOB's charging for tickets now?

MM: I did.

SW: Everybody who gambles on SMC being good is usually a loser.

MM: Oh, come on now Scotty.

SW: No, seriously, look at the dude over there. He takes up three chairs all by himself. How is it that the fattest pieces of crap always get front row seats? I've NEVER understood that.

MM: Trable's up first. Elbow shot by Trable knocks Coma down. And now he's working on the legs. But Coma fights back and there's a Slingshot Chop. And there's an Apron Crab Fist, but Trable's holding on to the ropes as if his life depended on it.

SW: Uh, Coma broke the hold, why isn't Trable letting go? This isn't a frickin' battle royal.

MM: Generic Ref telling Trable to let go and continue the match.

SW: Man, we may have to put Trable on some sort of sex-offender list with the way he's holding onto that thing.

MM: Generic Ref is now literally pulling Trable, but that's not even working. Hey. Lay-Z just ran in.

SW: Oh, DJ Rawkus just clocked Coma with that oversized clock he was wearing around his neck.

MM: This was all a plan. It has to be. Look at this, Trable just let go of the ropes and runs over to pin Coma. Don't end it like this.

SW: They did.

DJ: Here be yo' winner, Petizzle Trabizzle! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeahhhhhhhhhh boooooooooooyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

MM: Lay-Z just eliminated Coma from the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS tournament.

SW: Thank goodness. That last run where he was champion almost put BOB out of business. Wait, what am I saying? Give the title to Coma, please!

MM: But check this out. Maybe it wasn't a plan. Trable is shoving Lay-Z away. And he's walking away from the guys who just handed him the victory.

SW: Yeah, on a bling-covered platter.

MM: Fans, up next, it's Rob Van Spam against XXXtreme Machine in a Swiss Army Belt match. Stay tuned.

SW: And just say no to those crappy reruns on that other channel!

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.]

Billy De Mens van het jonge geitje: The following is a second-round match in the Swiss Army Belt tournament. Being accompanied by Dubya. From North Bumphuck, North Dakota, weighing 256 pounds, this is XXXtreme Machine!

SW: It's amazing how shallow BOB's talent pool is when THESE guys are in the second round of any kind of tournament.

MM: This one should be a classic.

SW: In the sense that it'll put me to sleep?

MM: Say, did you notice that Billy Kidman is suddenly our ring announcer?

SW: Man, who is on security detail here? Helen Keller? And that's Billy De Mens van het jonge geitje, just so we're clear and don't get sued by anybody.

MM: Oh, my mistake. I didn't notice he was wearing those wooden shoes and the cheesehead.

SW: He's a male prostitute who makes his home in Amsterdam. It's brilliant. Really. Of course, the only thing he's really notable for is banging Torrie Wilson...

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

BDvhjg: And his opponent. From Fight Swamp, Kentucky, weighing 204 pounds. Mr. Sunday Morning, Rob...Van...Spam!

Alex Smith: (via bullhorn) Excuse me. Viewers, just so you know, global warming is a HOAX. Global warming is just an excuse for global GOVERNMENT! We are not responsible for global warming. If you want to know what's REALLY behind global warming, why don't you go outside in a couple of hours and take a look at that giant yellow ball in the sky. The only reason the UN wants you to buy global warming is so they can make YOU pay a new tax.

SW: Man, this guy HATES all things government.

MM: We'll try to call the match as long as we can be heard over that loud bullhorn.

SW: Please. It's just XXXtreme Machine and RVS. Who really cares about this match?

AS: What has government given us? They've given us TERROR! They've given us WAR! They've given us DEBT! They've given us LIES! Don't trust this government. There are evil elements within our government who wants to globalize and ENSLAVE you all!

MM: XXXtreme Machine with a punch, but RVS counters with a windmill-like kick. Machine comes up punching. But RVS responds with more punches.

ASM: There's no such thing as al Qaeda, or al Qaida, or however you want to spell it. It's a fraud perpetrated on the American people by our own government to scare us into submission. And there is no Alan Qaida either. His real name is Alan Johnson! He's from Canada, people! WAKE UP! WAKE UP ZOMBIES!

MM: RVS with a senton splash. Machine comes up fighting. And there's a clothesline. There's an XXXtreme headlock.

SW: XXXtremely boring.

[Smith begins chucking compact discs at the fans.]

AS: Loose Change! Loose Change! Free copies of Loose Change! Watch it! WAKE UP ZOMBIES! Your government is corrupt and EVIL! The U.S. wants an accidental conflict to trigger an all our war with Iran next. This imperialist government won't stop until WE MAKE IT STOP!

MM: RVS with a northern lights suplex and holds on with a bridge. XXXtreme Machine can't get out.

SW: How hard is it? Just lift up a friggin' shoulder!

MM: Hey, Dubya just grabbed Rob Van Spam.

SW: But the Ref didn't see it. Unless he sees it, it isn't illegal.

MM: Look out Alex Smith. Kay Fabe is chasing after Smith.

SW: She must not have liked him revealing Alan Qaida's real last name.

AS: *huff huff*! Join up today! The empire's on the run! *huff huff* And so am I!

MM: Qaida IS his real last name.

SW: Sure it is...

MM: Generic Ref and Dubya are arguing. But lookout. RVS just grabbed a computer keyboard. He tosses it to XXXtreme, who catches it.


MM: Van Spaminator.

SW: Letter keys are flying everywhere.

MM: Generic Ref is calling for the bell.

SW: What? Why?

BDvhjg: The winner as a result of a disqualification, XXXtreme Machine!


SW: XXXtreme Machine goes on in this tournament? Fuck!

[Meanwhile, in Parts Classified, Little Good is laying on the floor of what looks to be a dirty bathroom. He opens his eyes and sits up suddenly, only to realize his leg is chained to the wall.]

LG: Balls. What're you doing here then?

Mr. X: Here? Who says I'm here?

LG: I do. I sure could go for a smoke.

[A pack of cigarettes fall from the ceiling.]

LG: Now we're talkin'.

[Little Good picks up the cigarettes and shoves one into his mouth.]

Mr. X: Don't smoke it. It's drugged.

LG: Uh-huh. That's the way I like it, mate. Sweet, sweet nicotine and 599 additives that make it taste so good. What, like you're all high and mighty when you're the one hijacking the trucks to sell 'em to me.

Mr. X: Truck? What's a truck?

LG: (Looking up at the ceiling) Say, you got a light?

[A book of matches falls down from the ceiling.]

Mr. X: Don't light it! They're drugged.

LG: The matches are drugged, too?

Mr. X: They're gonna kills us, you know.

LG: And how are they gonna do that?

Mr. X: Oh, hey, who says they're gonna do that?

LG: You just did. Bloody brilliant. Who are they? The Agency? The STWF? Neo-Cons?

Mr. X: I ain't sayin' nothin'.

LG: I noticed.

[We head back to the ring and Styles.]


Styles: Hello! I want to say one thing right now. That there's two things that's can't be beat in 2007. One of them is Brawlers On A Budget, because it's here to stay. And the other is the Skull & Bones Society. All five of them. Death. And all of them. C'mon out guys!

["Killed By Death" by Motorhead plays. Here comes Death, Lord Athackkimentham, Uber Vampire Warrior, Coma and Hallucination Boy.]

MM: There they are, the five most evil wrestlers in the world today.

SW: Whether you like them or you don't like them, I really don't give a crap. Death rules! Five very diverse styles. Death in his cloak. Uber Vamp in his puffy shirt. Lord A in his black metal gear. And Coma and HB looking like members of that rap band Kris Kross. Are their clothes on backward because they're evil?

MM: Apparently.

SW: Here, I thought they were just retardos.

Styles: I want to say one thing. That you five men are extreme. And extreme is an attitude I like to think I have that attitude. But I know you Skull & Bonesmen have it. I know you have it, Uber Vamp.

Uber Vamp: Hmm hmm hmm hmm.

Death: You know...Let me just say one thing, Mikey. When we have an opportunity to get together on national television, we always make a statement. And this morning, once again, THE Skull & Bones Society are gonna make a statement. And on behalf of the Skull & Bonesmen, the spokesman, Uber Vamp, has a few words.

UVW: Hmm hmm hmm. Hmm hmm hmm. (He points at Coma and Hallucination Boy). Hmm hmm hmm. Hmm hmm hmm. Hmm hmm hmm.

[The crowd boos.]

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

[Death grabs the microphone.]

Death: Uh, change of plans. Maybe we should make Lord Athackkimentham the spokesman since he actually, you know, speaks. Lord A!

LA: We want to make sure Santa and all his followers around the country has an opportunity to hear what we have to say. All hail Santa and Coma and Hallucination Boy, we want you to pay special attention. Because you're the reason we're here this morning. By orders of Santa, you're not Skull & Bones anymore. It's OVER. No more Skull & Bones for YOU!

[The crowd boos.]

SW: What is he, the Skull & Bones nazi?

LA: I want everybody to listen real close, hail Santa. When Death called me and Uber Vamp to come in here, it was for one reason. To get rid of you.

SW: It was?

MM: News to me.

LA: And I tell ya. Just be quiet. There's three of us and two of you. When you jumped in and helped Death against Regeneration-X, we held off. We were ready to give you a dirt nap, but Death gave us the sign and waved us off. You were spared. And then something happened that nobody would have ever dreamed happened when you became two of us. As Skull & Bonesmen, you were good Skull & Bonesmen. You're crappy wrestlers, dumb, dumb kids. But then you did the one unforgivable thing we can never forget. Know what that was?

LA: When you lost to Pete Trable, YOU SIGNED YOUR DEATH WARRANT! You're gonna listen now in the name of Santa. We all agreed we should stop you now. Death said, no, no, no, he helped me one time, we let him live one time. But on one condition. And it is this. You go to BigBOSS, you go to Mr. Mike Monroe.

MM: Me?

LA: Or whoever you need to talk to and tell them you're gonna give us a tag team title match!

Coma: This rutabaga has wilted roots! Poink!

LA: You listen to me and listen good. Even a blind man can see there's three of us and two of you.

HB: I beg to differ, says the ghost of Ray Charles!

LA: You got about 30 minutes to make up your mind. It's only because of his nice, kindness we're gonna let you live here. Thirty minutes. Make up your mind. Tell Monroe, tell everyone and the world you're gonna give us a chance at the titles.

Coma: Not a chancery, guvna! Narf!

Death: Coma, I bought you both a little time because of--

LA: Too easy! Santa gives you 30 minutes to make up your mind. And you're no longer a Bonesman. And if we ever see you again, you're not gonna be quite as breathing.

[Lord A begins walking away, but Coma grabs him. Death gives Hallucination Boy a Touch of Death as Uber Vamp and Lord A grab Coma. Death then punches Coma. Death slaps Coma.]

Death: I tried to tell you I bought you some time. Do the smart thing. Give us the contract. Then lose. Then get out of BOB. Then get out of my dimension. You're done!

MM: This is pathetic.

SW; This is the greatest thing EVER.

[Death slaps Coma.]

SW: He gave the guys a chance.

MM: Fans we'll be right back.

SW: Is this feud high on cocaine or something? I've never seen such a fast-moving breakup.

[As we return to the BOB Ballroom, "The Humpty Dance" by Digital Underground is playing. Generic Foot Locker has the microphone in the middle of the ring.]

GFLE: Hello Sin! Haha City! My name is! Generic! Foot Locker! Employee!

[The crowd does a bit of a singalong with Generic Foot Locker Employee when he says his name.]

GFLE: Shut up joo! Hahaha! And I bring! To all joo! The toughest! Samoan! Of a bitch! In, ha, BOB! LOOOOOOGOOOOOOONOOOOOOOOA!

[Again, the crowd sings along with the Logonoa bit. Logonoa writes on his marker board.]

Board: ARRRRRGH!!!!

GFLE: And today! Hahaha! Paradox! Joo vill be! Ha, eaten! Alive by! Logonoa!

SW: I think he means that literally.

[Dr. Thrilla runs into the ring and blindsides Logonoa with a stop sign to the skull.]

SW: Aw, man, Logonoa's Samoan. Is he the only Samoan in Samoa who doesn't have a hard head?

MM: I think that's just a stereotype, Scotty.

SW: Yeah, well so is Sony.

MM: *Sigh* Dr. Thrilla just tossed Generic Foot Locker Employee to the floor. Oh no. He's holding him hostage. The bell hasn't rang, and this match hasn't got underway.

SW: What a brilliant plan by Dimension Z. Look, Logonoa's going after his manager. Man, Thrilla's sure been getting in Logonoa's business since that battle royale show. Remember when he dressed up as Mickey Mouse.

MM: I sure do. Hey, Mr. Paradox just slid into the ring. He's telling Generic Ref to start the count.

SW: You think Generic Ref and Generic Foot Locker Employee are related?

MM: I doubt it. They have different last name.

SW: Oh yeah.

MM: I don't believe it. Paradox is going to win this one by countout. That's two rounds in a row, I believe.

SW: Heh, and Logonoa's so deaf, he can't hear Generic Ref counting him out.

MM: Jeez, Scotty.

SW: Way to outsmart the handicapped, Mr. Paradox. I'm counting on Mr. Paradox to be the next Swiss Army Belt champion.

MM: He better be, or else he'll probably slice and dice BigBOSS and Michelle. Mr. Paradox with a win nonetheless.

SW: Well...that was quick. How the hell are we gonna fill out the rest of this segment?


MM: Uh-oh.

SW: The Undietaker?

[The arena lights dim as the Undietaker emerges and slowly walks down the aisle.]

SW: You know, with how long it takes him to walk down the aisle, Mr. Paradox could be in Aruba by now.

MM: He must be hypnotized by the mystical powers of the Undietaker.

SW: Suckical powers is more like it.

MM: Paradox isn't backing down from the Undietaker. Of course, that sword he's holding must give him some confidence.

["Narayan" by Prodigy plays.]

SW: It's Sir Zeno! Oh wait, why am I getting excited? Zeno will probably just keeping coming halfway down the aisle and never reach the ring.

MM: Why do you say that?

SW: You can't put Zeno and Paradox in the same sentence and not have a dichotomy.

MM: Pardon?

SW: I just read the script, I have no idea if that's supposed to be a joke or something. I'm gonna have to check Wikipedia after the show and see what the hell I just said.

MM: Undietaker is staring a hole through Zeno.

SW: Oh joy, just what wrestling needs more of. Two guys making puppy dog eyes at each other to waste precious air time. Boring.

[Undietaker makes a wedgie motion toward Zeno, who rolls his eyes.]

MM: Paradox is out of there but neither Undietaker or Zeno is moving toward the other. Undietaker. Zeno. They seem to be on a collision course. Oh, can you feel the electricity?

SW: I sure can. It's just like sticking a fork in a socket. Speaking of which, I think I'll go do that and end this misery I call my life.

MM: At least wait until after the show.

SW: *Sigh* Fine.

[Sounds of pills rattling.]

SW: Ah, there are my happy pills.

MM: Can I borrow one?

SW: Sure.

MM: Fans, we'll be right back.

["My Michelle" by Guns N Roses is playing as we return to the BOB Ballroom. Michelle Vincent has taken over her old duties as ring announcer, apparently.]

SW: The Schmucks on the Internet aren't gonna like this.

MM: Why?

SW: Everyone hates her on the Internet. It's pretty much like the rest of her life.

MM: Oh.

MV: The following match is our main event, and it will be a Parts Unknown Death Match. It is also a second-round match in the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS tournament.

SW: She was a much better announcer when she wore lingerie.

["What Do I Have To Do?" by Stabbing Westward plays.]

MV: Coming out to the ultra-creepy stalker music...*sigh* From Parts Unknown, this is Pigeon!

MM: Both these men hail from Parts Unknown. So there will be a little bit of pride on the line this morning to say who is better.

SW: Uh, sure...whatever, Mikey.

MM: Pigeon is carrying one of those plastic hand baskets on his arm. It looks like it's filled with all sorts of weapons.


*Random Explosion Pop!*

SW: Damnit! Stop doing that!

["Rising Sun" by Bexta plays.]

MV: And his opponent, also from Parts Unknown. He is NOT being accompanied by Kay Fabe. Haha. Weighing 211 pounds. The Darksider, Seth Harker!

SW: No Kay Fabe? Well, at least I can stare at Michelle's booty.

MM: You've got to wonder if Michelle had something to do with Kay Fabe not coming out to the ring. Do you suppose she used her stroke to bar Kay from ringside.

SW: I wish she'd use her stroke on me.

MM: Better not say that too loud or Pigeon might get more depressed.

SW: He's so emo. Maybe he'll cut himself to ease the pain.

MM: Pigeon has dumped out the contents of his basket in the ring.

SW: It looks like Michelle is giving Pigeon some encouragement now.

MV: Beat him or I'll never go out with you!

MM: Looks like that's all the inspiration he needed. He charges at Harker, but runs right into a spin kick. Harker is quickly up top and connects with a senton bomb.

SW: Harker hasn't had a lot of luck in hardcore matches. Remember when he got pinned BY the hardcore title belt?

MM: I'm sure he does. And I'm sure he appreciates you bringing it up every time he wrestles now.

SW: Hehehe.

MM: Sleeperhold into a neckbreaker of sorts there. And now Harker with a flip splash onto Pigeon.

SW: Jeez, Michelle doesn't look too happy. She's no Bill Belichick.

MV: I don't care if you have a damn concussion! Get up and do your job!

SW: Oh, maybe she is...

MM: Pigeon whipped hard into the corner. And Harker charges right into a foot. Pigeon locks Harker into an abdominal stretch.

SW: Use the weapons already. I don't need any of this wrestling foreplay shit.

MM: Pigeon shoves Harker off. And Harker turns right around and takes Pigeon to the mat with a brutal STO.

SW: Oh, lovely, now they're doing that cruiserweight reversal stuff. C'mon! Get with the blood already!

MM: Harker connects with a back suplex. He drags up Pigeon.


MM: Oh, what a chop.

SW: Chop with weapons, not with your hands. This is frustrating as watching ECW in 2007 for the violence. Because there ISN'T ANY!

MM: Harker with a standing dropkick. He almost floated in mid-air there. Now Harker heading to the top rope. Leaping side kick takes down Pigeon again.

SW: Pigeon just grabbed something. Smash it into his face now!

MM: Desk lamp to the skull. And Harker is down. Pigeon pulls up Harker and whips him to the ropes. Drop toe hold of doom onto the lamp. Now what's he got?

SW: Blue glass cleaner of death. Oh man, he just sprayed that right in Harker's face! Sweet!

MM: That could have blinded him, Scotty.

SW: Yeah, that stuff does some damage. Especially to ants. I use that stuff to kill those little bastards in my kitchen all the time. So many frigging ants out here in the desert.

MM: Now what's that? Printer paper? Oh no. He's trying to slice open Harker's skull. He just crumpled up the paper into a ball. Oh, how brutal, he's just ripping that paper back and forth across Harker's forehead.

SW: I see red people.

MM: Indeed, Harker has been busted open.

SW: Oh, I just meant I saw some Indians over there.

MM: Oh. Pigeon has Harker in the corner now. Oh, he's just driving that pencil into Harker's skull. This is too brutal. Fans, get your children out of the room.

SW: If they let their kids stay up this late, there is much worse they could be watching right now.

MM: Three-ring binder to the skull. And Harker is in trouble now, Scotty.

SW: Did they go shopping at Staples for this plunder?

MM: Oh no, Pigeon just dumped out a box of permanent markers and pens. They're covering the ring.

SW: They couldn't get tacks? Those are cheap.

MM: Eh, it's not pay-per-view. Gotta make 'em pay for the really gory stuff. Which you fans will no doubt see at Living In Sin. Order now. Pigeon is pounding on Harker, who is precariously over all those markers and pens and pencils on the mat. But Harker is fighting back. He whips Pigeon. Reversal. Oh no. Harker is dumped face first into the writing instruments.

SW: BWAHAHAHA! Harker's got a pencil stuck up his nose. Beautiful.

MM: Pigeon heading out to the floor. Apparently he wants some more plunder.

SW: Harker just snot-rocketed that pencil out of his nose. And he looks...emotionless. But he looks like he's about to attempt a stupid move.

MM: Asai moonsault to the floor. Both men are down in this Parts Unknown Death Match. And since we just had a highspot, it's time for our final break. Pigeon. Harker. Who will win? Stay tuned.

SW: Nice try, but you've got to learn from the master, Monroe. Will Michelle lose her top? Stay with us to find out!

MM: We are back live when it was live, and Harker is up top. Shooting Seth Press misses. Pigeon just got out of the way. Pigeon crawls over to make the cover. One, two an no.

SW: This match has been all restspots during the break. You people didn't miss anything. Funny how that always works out.

MM: Harker hits a tigerbomb. And he's looking for more on the top rope. He hit that kick. And he follows up with a quick backsplash. Pigeon is rocked. And there's a shining wizard. He grabs Pigeon. Parts Unknown suplex with a bridge. Oh, but Pigeon uses an umbrella to poke Harker in the head.

SW: Nice. Man, Harker is bleeding nice and good now.

MM: Harker hasn't really made use of the weapons.

SW: Yeah, what an idiot. I guess he really doesn't want to win this match. Maybe the only time he likes to get hardcore is with Kay in the--

MM: Scotty?

SW: I was gonna say bedroom. Really, I was.

MM: Oh, Pigeon just broke a wood hanger over Harker's back. And he follows up quick with a hanging neckbreaker. Pigeon looking to end it here, but no. Harker counters the Pigeon drop with a beautiful hiptoss and now he's got an armlock.

SW: That's Pigeon's DDTing arm.

MM: Now Harker lets go. It looks like he's gonna try for a Parts Unknown surfboard. And he's got it. Generic Ref makes the count, and Harker has to make the break as both men's shoulders were down on the mat there.

SW: C'mon, look at the plunder. Use it.

MM: Powerbomb by Harker coming up? No. Pigeon reverses it into a Pigeon Drop. Cover. One. Two. No. Harker kicked out.

SW: Kicked out of a DDT? Shocker.

MM: But it's his finishing move.

SW: Well, his finishing move is LAME.

MM: Pigeon charges at Harker, who ducks. Here it comes. Harker just hit a Tiger Driver '91.

SW: He's still using the old '91? Man, get with the times. Try a Tiger Driver '05 at least.

MM: Two, but Pigeon's foot is on the bottom rope. And Harker can't believe it. He drags up Pigeon, only to take him back down with an enzugeri. Now Harker's digging in his boot. What's he got?

SW: A pizza cutter? Oh yeah! Harker's finally in this death match.

MM: And now Harker's slicing open Pigeon's forehead. Oh, this is disgusting.

SW: Pigeon just grabbed the stapler. Oh man, he's shooting staples at Harker.

MM: This is brutal. Oh no, he just grabbed Harker by the ponytail and pulls him into a headlock.

Crowd: OHHHHH!

SW: Harker has just been introduced to Mr. Stapler. And now he's about to be introduced to Mr. Staple Remover!


MM: Pigeon punching away on Harker now, trying to make Harker bleed even more.

SW: And it's working. But Harker with a dropkick to Pigeon's crotch stops that.

MM: And he follows up with a slam. But he's so exhausted, he just collapsed.

["Invaders" by Iron Maiden begins playing.]

SW: What the hell? This isn't in my script.

MM: Oh no, Scotty. It's the STWF. Four guys in black have just charged the ring.

SW: This is serious now. They have access to our sound system? Now this means war.

MM: Oh no. They just hit Harker in the head that a waffle maker? As if Harker needed any more shots to his bloody head this morning.

SW: Whoa, Pigeon just got tossed. Michelle's checking on him.

MM: Oh stop this somebody. Harker is being beaten in the head with that waffle maker. Stop. Please.

[Kay Fabe charges in the ring and gets blasted in the head with the waffle maker.]

MM: No.

SW: Holy...

[Eliza charges in and all four men in black stomp on her. She gets blasted in the skull as well.]

MM: Leave them alone.

SW: This is getting serious now, Mike. I don't like this one bit. These guys aren't coming here to earn a fat paycheck. These guys are taking out some of our top stars.

MM: They are just brutalizing Harker, Eliza and Kay Fabe.

[Several members of the BOB roster run down to the ring, and the STWFers get out of the ring, jump the Flimsy Guardrail and head toward the exit. Michelle is helping Pigeon up. Pigeon slides in the ring and covers Harker and gets the 1, 2, 3.]

MM: Pigeon just won, but fans, that is not the story right now.

SW: This looks bad. I wanted blood. But the good kind of blood. Not the I feel dirty for watching this kind of blood.

MM: Fans, we've gotta get out of here. We'll be back in two weeks. As apparently, next week the hotel is holding a Pussy Fanciers show.

SW: Really? Can I commentate on that? I love pussy.

MM: I think it's for meow cats.

SW: Ahh. Then I have zero interest. I'll just get drunk and explode ants in the microwave.

MM: Fans, we'll be back in two weeks with another edition of Chloroform, hopefully with an update on Seth Harker, Eliza and Kay Fabe. For Scotty Whatbody, this is Mike Monroe. Good morning. And good luck.


© 2007 BOB Wrestling! Take This Anti-Stupidity Vaccine! It'll Cure You Of Your Stupidity!


© BOB Wrestling!

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