Federal law provides severe civil and criminal penalties for the unauthorized downloading, posting this event on other Web sites or using our characters for the use of making money or badly written online gay porn stories, a.k.a. fanfic. If you have not sent us money for this BOB-On-Demand event, we now have your address and are coming to get you. Oh yeah. By the time you hear us coming, it will already be too late. So don't steal our stuff!
Caption: Earlier today
[A Rent-A-Dent limo pulls up at the back entrance of the Phillips Screwedriver Arena in Montreal, Canada. Out stepped none other than the big cheese himself, BigBOSS. Also coming out of the limo were his personal bodyguards, Lock, Shock and Barry. As well as a couple of former BOBsters, Clinton and the very short-lived character Dubya (who appeared in the ill-devised 1600 Club reality show mess, "Who Looks Enough Like A Former Or Current President To Be In Our Stable?" last year). They were all dressed in the best matching blue rental suits money could buy. Hey, it's a BOB-On-Demand show, after all. Lastly, a bald man emerges from the limo and shuts the door.]
BigB: Hey, Clive (BigB says to the camera). We've got a big announcement to make tonight. We're gonna shock and awe the world!
[The group of people heads into the arena. The camera follows them in. Once inside, BigBOSS runs into Trey Vincent.]
TV: Hey guys. Your room is all set up. When do I get one of those key card dealies and the code to get inside the war room?
BigB: Sorry. You chose to go with the Skull & Bones. So I formed CPU.
TV: What the hell do you people do in there? And who the hell is this bald jackfuck?
BigB: He's one of my Comedy Central advisers. His name is Lou Siffer.
Clinton: My fellow American. We have to go. There is much planning needed for the upcoming year.
Dubya: Excuse me, Mr. Vincent. We need to get into the commando center.
TV: Commando center? And what's this I hear about you making a big announcement about the future of BOB? I'm the Vice President In Charge of Everything.
[Siffer whispers into BigBOSSes ear.]
BigB: Stay tuned.
[The group goes into the "CPU" room. Siffer smiles at Trey as he shuts the door.]
TV: This has to be the most confusingly vague opening segment ever.
[Inside the arena, a man in a tuxedo is standing center ring with a microphone. The music to "O Canada" begins playing. The crowd is standing silently as the man begins to sing.]
Singer: O Canada!
Our home and native land!
True patriot love
In all thy sons command!
With glowing hearts
We see thee rise
The True North strong and free
From far and wide
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee!
God keep our land
Glorious and free
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee
O CANADA, we stand on guard, for, theeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
[The crowd cheers in approval, as the singer bows.]
[Suddenly, Death is in the ring. TOUCH OF DEATH! The crowd is booing loudly. Death picks up the dead singer's microphone.]
Death: Tonight, I will win the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS in this hellhole you all call home. And there ain't a damn thing any of you scum in the crowd can do about it is. You scum. I have surrounded myself with the best Brawlers On a Budget has to offer, men who I will one day be honored to kill and take to the next world with me. I have Trey Vincent, the brains, well, the guy with all the power. I have Seth Harker. I have Kay Fabe. I have Dustbuster Boy, John Skeet and Steve Leary. We are the Skull & Bones Society. And just remember that tonight, Sarah won't screw Sarah. Death will screw Sarah! Because I'm the Death there is, the Death there was and the Death there ever will be! I am going to execute her, excellently! Mwahahaha!
[Death throws down the mic as the crowd boos loudly. "Killed By Death" plays and Death leaves as we fade out to the logo. Which is almost like an opening video montage, right?]
Another Day, Another Bounced Check!
[We open with some fuzzy pictures of a stage with white fireworks reigning down from some scaffolding. We suddenly cut to a shot of The Flunky, who is banging a hammer against a piece of metal, making a booming sound, presumably to make explosions. We then quickly cut to the inside of the Phillips Screwedriver Arena in Montreal, Canada.]
Styles: Hello everyone and welcome to GRUDGE MATCH A-GO-GO! Tonight, live on BOB-On-Demand you will see nine big matches!
Scotty Whatbody: And Heidi's big boobs.
Nurse Heidi: And Scotty's huge belly.
Styles: Every title will be on the line. Fans, if you aren't watching this show, you're not even hearing my voice right now. But fans, if you HAVE bought this, then it's a regret, you'll never forget. Wait...
SW: Styles, this is live. We can't retape this.
NH: Just breathe and read from the script, Mikey.
NH: Also here tonight broadcasting to all our friends in Canada are Claude Leroux and his partner StreetMime2K5. StreetMime, I didn't know you were French, or Canadian.
SM: ... ... ... ...!
NH: Wow, very patriotic.
Claude Leroux: I'd like to say "eh" to all my homeys in Moosebutt!
["Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong begins blasting. The fans that care, boo. The ones who don't, well, sit down and busy themselves by calling their friends at home and wait for the camera to get on them so they can wave like retards.]
Michelle Vincent: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Grudge Match A-Go-Go! This is our curtain jerker. Introducing first. From Snap Finger, Georgia. The Snapmare Kid!
NH: There's been a lot of hype surrounding this match.
SW: There has?
NH: And tonight, we're going to find out who is the ultimate jobber in BOB. Is it Snapmare Kid or is it his opponent, Urine.
SW: The only thing this match will determine is how much torture our paying fans are capable of enduring.
["Golden Showers" by Mentors hits next. Urine gets a good pop? Where am I? Bizarro World? Oh, right, we're in Canada. They'll cheer anybody up here, regardless of talent levels.]
NH: Damn, we should hold all our BOB-On-Demand events in foreign countries.
SW: Yeah, the United States are pretty unappreciative of our crappy shows. Fuck the U.S.A. That's what I say.
NH: We are the Jerry Lewis of sports entertainment. Loved everywhere but in our home country.
SW: Didn't France hate Jerry Lewis? I heard that whole thing was a myth.
NH: Was it? Damn.
Styles: SMK and Urine circling each other.
[Ding, ding, ding.]
SW: Ahh! What was that?
Styles: OH my GOD! We have a bell? I'll be damned!
NH: Don't be too impressed. We're renting the bell and that 62-inch television from 2-Cheap-2-Own.
SW: Oh yeah. That is a nice television. What is that? $20 to rent for the day? Sweet deal.
Styles: Here we go finally. No. Wait. Urine is posing? What the hell? SMK doesn't look to impressed with Urine's physique.
SW: I think I just saw a chick projectile vomiting at the sight of that. God, make him stop.
NH: Oh, leave him alone. The poor kid went prematurely bald at age 20.
SW: Is that why he grew that ugly ass...whatever the hell that thing on his face is. What is he, a walrus?
Styles: Here we go again...maybe. They approach each other. Lockup attempt—
SW: Damn, how do you botch a lock up?
NH: Just ask SMK. Whoa, Urine just shoved SMK flat on his ass.
Styles: SMK comes up quick. He grabs Urine. Snapmare! Urine up quickly. Another snapmare! Urine up quickly again and he goes right into a third snapmare. Snapmare Kid pulls Urine...onto himself? Urine with a cover? One! But Urine breaks the pin.
SW: Oh, boy, this match is going to be completely retarded, isn't it?
NH: It's looking that way.
Styles: Urine whips SMK into the ropes, but...uh boy. Snapmare just awkwardly hit his head or neck on the ropes and collapses in a heap. SMK begins tapping on the mat?
NH: He's tapping out?
Urine: No way, hombre! You ain't gonna put me over, uncle!
Styles: Urine stomps on SMK's hand. He pulls SMK up. Snapmare from out of nowhere! He whips Urine into the ropes and SMK connects with a snapmare! SMK drags Urine on top of himself again! One. Two. No. Urine breaks up his cover.
SW: These guys have such big egos, they both refuse to put themselves over.
Styles: SMK pulls Urine up awkwardly. He pulls on Urine, but Urine raises his arms out, asking SMK what he was trying to do. Urine grabs SMK and whips him HARD into the corner. Clothesline! Right by Urine. And again. And again. And again. Urine drags up SMK and whips him into the ropes. BIG back body drop!
NH: The crowd is loving this well-below average match.
Crowd: Uri-nation! *Clap clap clapclapclap* Uri-nation! *Clap clap clapclapclap*
SW: Eww! Stop him, Styles! Look at him rubbing his crotch!
Styles: How can I stop him? Urine charges at SMK! Clothesline over the top rope! SMK crashes to the floor.
NH: Urine is aiming for SMK!
SW: But if he's like most guys, he'll miss completely and be all over the floor.
Styles: Urine hits him in the face! And there's a phrase I NEVER though I'd use.
SW: Why do I think we're gonna have a bunch of sickos click on this event thinking they're gonna see some water sports?
Styles: Both brawlers head back in the ring. Clothesline by Urine! SMK crawls to the corner.
SMK: Ref, stop the match! I've got a concussion!
GR: You do? What's two plus two?
SMK: Four! I mean, seventy!
GR: Uh...where are we?
SMK: Montreal? I mean...California!
GR: Hmm...How many fingers am I holding up.
SMK: Three! I mean...twelve!
GR: I don't think you have a concussion. This match WILL continue!
Styles: I guess this match is going to continue, to the disappointment of SMK, who badly wants to lose to Urine.
NH: Now what's he doing?
Styles: Looks like he's heading toward Le Flimsy Annoncent Le Tableau. SMK grabs himself by the head. Oh NO! He just snapmared himself onto the French table! Claude Leroux and StreetMime are briskly moving for their lives.
NH: Now what is Urine doing?
Urine: Oh yeah, sister? This is how you lose, buddy!
Styles: Oh my GOD! Urine just rammed his OWN head into the steel post! SMK is PISSED! SMK flips over the table in frustration.
NH: And Urine does it again! Urine collapses to his knees under this self-inflicted assault.
Styles: SMK picks up Urine and shoves him into the ring. But SMK isn't following.
SMK: Count me out!
NH: Oh. Urine just grabbed SMK by the hair and is pulling him inside. He punches SMK!
SW: And now the idiot is punching himself. Look at that. Punch. Punch. Punch. Blade. Punch. Punch.
Styles: Urine has just busted himself WIDE OPEN! He's wearing the crimson bandanna. Urine falls to the mat and...he's really unleashing rights on his forehead.
SW: Holy excessive blade job, Batman.
Styles: Urine isn't moving. Generic Ref lifts up Urine's arm. It falls to the mat! He lifts up his arm again! It falls! If his arm falls a third time, SMK will win. He lifts it up! SMK GRABS HIS ARM! SMK dragging a bloody Urine up to his feet.
SW: It's never a good sign when you have bloody Urine. His kidneys could be punctured.
Styles: Snapmare! Oh no! Urine was just snapmared into Generic Ref, who is down! SMK pulls Urine on top of himself!
Crowd: One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six!
SW: SMK had the loss! Crap! Get up, Ref!
Styles: Uh oh. SMK heads out to the floor. He's got a chair.
["X Gonna Give It To Ya" by DMX hits. The crowd erupts in cheers as Pete "X-Factor" Trable hip hops out.]
NH: The X-Factor is here.
SW: Yep, and I'm sure he'll find a way to rap about it for the next five minutes.
Styles: Trable is in the ring. SMK is still holding the chair. A bloody Urine is up. Generic Ref is taking a nap. And Trable's got a mic.
Trable: Yo. Yo. Yo. Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo. Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo. YO! Yo! Yo! yO! Yoooo! Yo! Yo! Yo! YO! YO! YO! YO! YO! YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THE X-FACTOR IS HERE!
[The crowd cheers for no apparent reason.]
Trable: Look at you two jobbers, ain't you a pair
SMK's got a cheap-ass steel chair and Urine ain't got any hair
Grudge Match A-Go-Go in Montreal is the place to be
And everyone who didn't order this show fo' sure can't see me
And what I'm about to do to these two never-will-be's
You think this match is entertaining? Bitch, please!
It's my time, bitches, not you two fools
And oh yeah, I forget to tell you something important: Yuck Fou!
I know, I shouldn't beat your skinny ass, it ain't fair
You only mastered one move, and it's a snapmare
That's sad homey, if I was you, I'd kick my own ass, too
Tell you what, learn a new move and we'll change your name to Poo
Then you can team up with this guy, have every tag team running in fear
Yelling to the BOB fans, The Excrements are here!
So, if you want some
Come get some!
You don't like me?
Styles: SMK throws down the chair and charges at Trable! He's going for a snapmare on the steel! But Trable reverses! CD! CD! CD on the CHAIR!
[Urine points to Trable's face when he gets up.]
NH: Trable spins Urine around! CD by Trable!
Styles: Now what's he doing? He pulls up Generic Ref? Trable covers Snapmare Kid and Urine! One! Two! Three! ... HEGOTTHEM?
SW: What. The. Hell?
["X Gonna Give It To Ya" hits again, and Trable celebrates, holding up his Flavor Flav big clock to the crowd. We cut backstage to Wig Show and the You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt.]
Wig Show: For the last time, yes, I understand what you want! You don't have to explain things to me ten times!
[The Flunky knocks on the door. I mean, uh, there's a knock at the door.]
WS: I'm gettin' it, I'm gettin' it.
[Wig Show opens the door.]
WS: What do you want, Flunky?
The Flunky: It's time. You're gonna have to give me the title belt.
WS: Will you shut up!
The Flunky: I'm sorry, Show, but you asked me what I wanted.
WS: I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to IT!
The Flunky: Oh. So, can I have it?
WS: Will you stop being so vulgar?
The Flunky: Me? What did I say?
WS: Argh! Take the damn belt! I need a cheeseburger!
The Flunky: OK.
[Flunky takes the belt and leaves.]
WS: I HEARD THAT!
[Back to ringside.]
MV: The following contest is our Brawlers On a Budget (Truck) match for the You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out Of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title! In this match, all the competitors will fight on top of the BOB truck out in the parking lot and the object is to throw your opponents off the truck. The last person remaining on the truck will be named the hardcore champion.
[We cut outside.]
MV: Now making their way on top of the truck, the competitors. First, from Fight Swamp, Kentucky, Mr. BOB-On-Demand, Rob Van Spam! Next, from Bombay, Alberta, Canada, Alan Qaida! Next, from somewhere, Pigeon! Next, from Suicida, Mexico, insano Mano! From Staten Island, New York, Christina Gaguilera! From San Fernando, California, Britney Smears! From Banzai Falls, Georgia, Kamikazie Ken! From Glueylajara, Mexico, Super Gluey! And finally, the reigning You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Champion, the You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt!
[Flunky tosses the belt up onto the roof.]
The Flunky: Ding, ding, ding!
Styles: And we're ready to go. The last person standing on top of the truck at the end of the night will be crowned the champion.
SW: Damn, they didn't even pad the concrete! This is gonna be great! BigBOSS is giving out broken bones this year.
Styles: The brawl is on. And there's not a lot of room for error up on that truck. That's easily a 10 to 15 foot drop to the pavement.
SW: But they've all learned to fall, haven't they?
[Cut to The Commentator.]
TC: How do you learn how to fall from the top of a Budget rental truck?
[Back to the match.]
NH: I think Super Gluey might have the advantage in this one. I mean, if he just gets his hands stuck to the roof, there's no way he can get thrown off.
SW: Man, the lighting is horrible out there. They should have tried something more than having a bunch of people shine flashlights at the roof. It's like a big shadow orgy up there.
NH: Whoa, somebody is now hanging on for dear life there on the edge. Who is that?
Styles: I believe that's Britney Smears. Yes, yes it is! Oh my God! Christina just stepped on Britney's fingers! Britney's out of it!
SW: Wow, she just eliminated her own tag team partner.
NH: I think it was an accident. She was getting attacked by Insano Mano, and I think she was stumbling backward.
SW: Sure, it was all an accident.
[The hardcore title goes flying onto the pavement with a clatter.]
Kamikazie Ken: IT'S GOOD!
Styles: Kamikazie Ken with a big time punt. But that means we're going to crown a new champion tonight!
NH: Qaida charges at Super Gluey, who easily sidesteps him! Qaida with a somersault death drop to the pavement!
Styles: OH my GOD! Oh NO! Insano Mano was just backdropped by Christina!
SW: HAHAHAHA! Oh, we've got to get replays! This is tremendous!
NH: How can you get such pleasure in their pain?
SW: Oh come on. Wrestling fans continue to watch because they know if they wait long enough, they'll see somebody get paralyzed or severely hurt. Wrestling is like auto racing. We're just waiting for the big disaster. Hey, at least I'm honest about it.
Styles: PIGEON DROP! Pigeon just planted Rob Van Spam on the roof of that Budget truck.
NH: Christina is about to get rid of Super Gluey with a hiptoss! No! Oh no! They're stuck together! Kamikazie Ken dropkicks them both down! Yikes.
SW: Will somebody tell the injured brawlers to stop moaning and asking for help? I can barely hear the match.
NH: They're in pain!
SW: So? They can be quiet and be in pain, can't they?
Styles: Pigeon and Kamikazie Ken are swinging away at each other. Oh, it looks like Pigeon just hurt his fist on Ken's head.
SW: Must've hit one of the metal plates.
Styles: Ken seizes the advantage and leaps over Pigeon. Sunset flip! OH MY GOD! Pigeon just fell off the edge of the truck! Ken with a sort of sunset flip powerbomb off the edge of the truck!
NH: But RVS is still up there. Yep. There he is.
Styles: Ken goes toward him, but RVS tosses him a chair? VAN SPAMINATOR! Ken falls off the truck! RVS WINS! RVS WINS!
NH: Wait a second. There's somebody else up on the truck.
Styles: Huh? How can there be? Everybody else was eliminated.
NH: I don't know, but Rob doesn't know he's there!
Styles: Dropkick to the back of RVS's head! He goes flying off the side of the truck! Oh my GOD! Who is that?
Styles: It's Igpay Atinolay Eathay! Igpay has snuck in and won the title!
NH: Wait a second.
Styles: Now what?
NH: That's Meat-Puppet!
[Igpay turns around.]
[Igpay falls off the truck.]
Styles: I don't believe it! Meat-Puppet has won the You Gotta Be—
NH: Wait a second.
Styles: Oh no! Nic Flare with a low blow on Meat-Puppet! And Meat-Puppet is shoved off the truck and falls to the pavement. Don't tell me, Nic Flare has won this thing?
NH: Wait a second.
SW: I see boobs!
Styles: Those are Queen Mylisiv's, Scotty. She is now on top of the truck. And she kicks Flare in the back of the head and he goes flying.
SW: He's fallen! And he can't get up! BWAHAHAHAHA!
Styles: Queen Mylisiv has snuck in the back door and—
NH: Wait a second.
Styles: Who's left?
NH: Only the biggest man on the roster who wasn't booked into a match. It's The Wig Show!
Styles: Oh NO! He grabs Queen Mylisiv by the hair! SHOWSCALPER OFF THE BUDGET TRUCK! OH MY GOD! Wig Show is the last man standing on top of the Budget truck. And no doubt, he'll do the job and let the You Gotta Be Kidding title win itself back for a third time.
NH: Wait a second.
Styles: There's somebody else on the truck?
NH: I can't tell. But whoever it is has a weapon. It looks like a pry bar.
SW: It's somebody with long hair. And I don't see any titties, so it must be a guy. Or a really flat chested chick.
SW: Oh no! That's not who I think it is, is it?
[The person blasts Wig Show in the back of the skull with the pry bar. Wig Show collapses off the side of the truck.]
SW: It is!
Styles: Who is it?
[The person leaps off the truck and grabs the title belt. The camera finally sees for sure who the winner is.]
MV: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match, and NEW You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Champion, XXXTREME MACHINE!
NH: + Styles: WHAT?
SW: YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME? IS THE BOOKING COMMITTEE OUT OF ITS FRICKIN' MIND?
Styles: XXXtreme Machine outsmarted...anybody?
NH: I'm in total shock.
[XXXtreme Machine runs into the building. The camera pans around to show everybody is still down scattered around the parking lot, moaning and holding various limbs.]
Styles: He was never supposed to win a title. He's a joke!
NH: I guess the joke's on us tonight, Styles.
Styles: Well, I guess on this night of screwjobs, the bookers have decided to screw the fans.
NH: We're just like a real fed now!
Styles: Well, this crowd seems to have settled down a little bit. What's next?
SW: Well, it's time for our Buried Ali—
SW: Hey! I was talking there.
NH: I'm sure you meant to say Premature Burial Match.
SW: No. What's it matter? Somebody's gonna get buried in that stupid desert stage over there that we've failed to mention until this point in the show for some odd reason.
Styles: Yes. Quite odd.
["Battle Without Honor Or Humanity" plays.]
MV: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest will be a Premature Burial Match for the Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Title! Introducing first the challenger. From Boston, Massachusetts, here comes The Bride!
[As Bride steps out from the back, a shovel hits her in the back of the skull.]
Styles: The hell?
NH: Whoa! The Bride has just been blindsided!
Styles: It's Atomo! And listen to the crowd. They love seeing The Bride get assaulted ruthlessly!
SW: Yeah, they love that male on female violence up here. Sick Canadians.
Styles: I guess this one has started early. Atomo is dragging The Bride into the desert stage. And now he rolls her into the unmarked grave.
NH: Too bad we couldn't rent a casket tonight.
SW: Do you know how much they wanted for a rental casket? Like $2,000! What a ripoff. I wouldn't even pay that for a family member.
Styles: You planning on just leaving your loved ones for the wolves.
SW: Yeah! Of course!
MV: And her opponent, currently burying her in the sand, the reigning Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Champion, Atomo The Living Robot!
NH: Atomo is shoveling sand down onto The Bride, who still isn't moving. Well, this is rather disappointing Premature Burial match.
SW: Aren't they always?
NH: Fair enough.
Styles: And..............................Atomo has buried her.
MV: Ladies and gentlemen. The winner, and STILL Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Champion, Atomo The Living Robot!
Styles: Right. Well...do we have any ads to go to? Maybe promoting our next BOB-On-Demand event? Can anybody in the back here me? Hello? Right. We don't. Wait. Hold on. I believe we've found something. Fans, we'll be right back. Don't you dare hit the close window on this event.
SW: Why not? They still have to pay full price.
The following preview has not been approved for any audiences.
Coming soon to a hard-drive near you...
The sports entertainingist...
BOB-On-Demand event of the year.
Brawlers On a Budget presents Grudge Match A Go Go. This December. Exclusively on BOB-On-Demand at bobwrestling.com.
The only thing tighter than our budget will be the clothes on their sexy bodies! Hubba hubba!
Styles: Great. An ad for the BOB-On-Demand show they've already bought. *Sigh*
NH: You were expecting a miracle from OUR crew?
Styles: Alright. Let's move this thing along.
MV: The following is our Cavemen Versus Astronauts Tag Team Match!
[Small pop from the crowd. "Rising Sun" by Bexta plays.]
NH: Are we gonna get a little bit of Yabba-Dabba-Do with their usual Wachoski entrance?
Styles: Oh, this is worth the price of the show right here. I can't wait to see the outfit Seth Harker is in.
SW: Seth? I can't wait to see what KAY is wearing. Oh baby!
[Enter the Wachoski. The camera switches down the aisle as Kay Fabe emerges in slow-motion. She is wearing a two piece leopard print cave girl outfit and is barefoot. She is also carrying a big bone. No, not Seth's. Sheesh. You people are sick. Kay pauses and looks behind her, but Seth is still yet to be seen. Still in slo-mo, Kay walks back out and after a few seconds of a slow-motion still shot, Seth is shoved out from backstage. Seth is wearing the same orange getup that Fred Flintstone wore on "The Flintstones." BWAHAHAHAHA! Oh my god. Sorry, Seth, I have to laugh. And, in slow-motion, Seth flips me off as Kay and he walk to the ring. We return to regular speed as Seth Flintstone and Kay enter the ring, where we hear Styles and Heidi laughing hysterically.]
SW: Will you two stop laughing and do your job? This is a BOB-On-Demand event. Why can't you be professional like me? Oh baby, I'd love to club Kay on the head and drag her back to my cave.
["Too Drunk To Fuck" by Dead Kennedys hits.]
MV: And their opponents. First, from Bloody Olde Cloudydale. This is Little Good!
[Little Good comes out dressed in an orange replica NASA coverall suit.]
NH: I bet Seth is really regretting winning that ladder match now.
Styles: Yeah. At least he could be wearing boots. *Snort*
MV: And his tag team partner.
["I Don't Like The Drugs (But The Drugs Like Me)" by Marilyn Manson hits.]
MV: Allegedly from Heaven. This is Kurt Angel!
[Angel walks out, smiling, with a microphone. He is wearing a blue NASA suit.]
Crowd: YOU'RE STONED! YOU'RE STONED! YOU'RE STONED!
[Angel puts up a hand to silence the crowd.]
KA: Well, well, well. If it isn't Fred Flintstone and his lovely wife, Willllllllllma!
[Cut to an ultra-annoyed Harker. The crowd and Styles and Heidi laugh.]
KA: And Fred...yuk-yuk-yuk...tonight, me and my partner Little Good are gonna beat you so badly, that you're gonna be sulking over your brontasaurus burger and made into a page right out of history. Not false, SO not false!
[More laughter and cheers from the crowd, as Seth is now yelling at the crowd to shut up.]
Crowd: FLINT-STONE! FLINT-STONE! FLINT-STONE!
KA: And I guess, since the lovely Kay Fabe is here, we'll DEFINITELY, have a gay, old, time!
[More cheers and laughter.]
KA: So. I guess that's enough talking. Let's yabba-dabba do it!
[Kurt charges down the aisle and Little Good and he storm into the ring. But Harker and Kay hop out of the ring, getting boos from the crowd.]
Styles: Ohhhh, boy. This is gonna be a tough one to get through.
NH: Do you think this is the lowest point in Seth's BOB career thus far?
Styles: I hope so. Kurt is yelling for either Fred or Wilma to get in the ring.
SW: Stop that right now, Styles!
NH: Wow, Kay and Seth are actually arguing on the floor. I've never seen them fight before. Other than those couple of times they had a match way back, I mean. But who remembers those days, right?
Styles: Looks like Kay is gonna start this one off for the Flintstones.
SW: Styles...I'm not kidding.
Styles: Please. What are you gonna do, Scotty?
Styles: Good God!
SW: Just wait until you smell it. I ate hard-boiled eggs again.
NH: Oh! That's awful!
Styles: Kay and Kurt ready to battle once again. And here they go! They're exchanging punches. Look at them pound away on each other. Kurt misses. Cloudydale leg sweep does not! But Kay hangs on and pulls up Kurt. A SECOND Clouydale leg sweep connects. But she's STILL not done. A THIRD Cloudydale leg sweep.
NH: Kay Fabe yelling at the Montreal fans here. But Kurt uses the chance to tag in Little Good.
Styles: He kicks her in the gut. And there's a punch. But she answers right back with one of her own. Whip to the ropes and Kay connects with a clothesline.
SW: Yeah! Sharpshooter by Kay!
NH: But Little Good with a blatant eye poke there. Little Good with a go-behind. He grabs Kay around the legs and sends her face first into the mat. And now he's spanking her!
SW: I know I should be angry about seeing that, but I can't.
Styles: Seth is angry enough for you!
Styles: Barefooted superkick by Harker! Damn!
NH: Not bad extension for a guy in a big orange sack.
Styles: But here comes Angel! He clotheslines Harker over the top rope.
SW: I hope Seth isn't going commando tonight. Otherwise that shot will be all over the Internet.
NH: You think? I'll have to check later.
Styles: Kurt follows Seth to the floor. Look out!
[The announcers scatter as Kurt tosses Seth over the EZ Break Announce Table. Meanwhile, in the ring, Kay just grabbed her bone. But Little Good with a spinning heart punch as she turns around. He makes the cover, but Generic Ref is trying to get Kurt and Seth back to their corners. Little Good is digging into his boot. He's got a metal rod. You've got to be kidding me. The weapons in this match are a rod and a bone? Can't get much more obvious than that. Where's Scotty to shoot these fish in a barrel?]
Styles: We back on?
NH: Yeah. I hear you.
Styles: The fight thankfully has moved away from us. Kurt just got something from under the ring...
SW: That was a glass syringe it looked like! Great. Now Seth will go have to get tested at the clinic after this match.
NH: Scotty, did you see that Little Good pulled out his rod?
Styles: He didn't get to use it on her though. She grabbed it out of his hands and threw it into the crowd.
Styles: Little Good with a suplex and Kay is down.
SW: Poor Seth. He's a bloody mess. And now he's got a spoon? Must we have a fucking spoon in EVERY Seth Harker match?
Styles: I think it's in his contract, actually.
NH: I think Angel was using whatever, oh, paraphernalia, he had hanging around. But, it is a new twist on an old joke.
Styles: He's digging the handle of that burned up spoon into Seth's open wound.
NH: Little Good has a chair! He tosses it to Kay, who catches it.
LG: Owww! Bloody hell.
Styles: Well, he punched the chair into Kay, but also hurt his hand in the process. He picks up Kay and now he's setting her up on the top rope. Superplex connects! COVER! One! Two! No. Kay gets a shoulder up.
NH: Harker and Angel are back in their respective corners finally.
Styles: Little Good trying for another suplex, but Kay with a DDT onto the chair! Cover! One! Two! No.
SW: Poor Seth.
NH: I hope he didn't have a deposit on that outfit. Because with all that blood, I'd say he's lost it.
Styles: Kay tags in Harker. Harker lifts Little Good up onto the top rope. HOODANCONRANA! He's up quickly and hits an Asai moonsault! Cover, but only gets two. Tag in to Kay.
NH: Despite the odd outfits, Kay and Seth have gotten it together and are working like a couple again.
Styles: But it really is hard to get past the outfits.
NH: Oh yeah. Totally. It's like Fred Flintstone got into a bar fight or something.
SW: Kay with a slap! A slap! A slap! She's licking it up...BITCH SLAP~! Little Good goes down.
NH: He went down like bam! Bam bam! Bam bam bam!
SW: I'll fart again...oh yes I will.
Styles: Oh, there's a straight right to Kay's face! She goes down.
NH: On Seth? Did I just say that out loud.
Styles: And Little Good makes the desperation tag in to Kurt! He knocks her down. Seth in and he goes down. Clothesline on Kay! Overhead belly-to-belly on Seth! Angel pulls up Kay. HEAVENLY SLAM! COVER!
Styles: ONE! TWO! THR-Seth jerks Angel off.
Styles: And there's a low blow by Seth! Angel is in a world of pain now.
SW: Seth got a bone!
NH: *Snort* And what a big bone it is!
Styles: Generic Ref took away Harker's bone.
NH: Well, he isn't the hottest ref, ever...
SW: Get your hands off Seth's bone!
Styles: Angel charges...Harker grabs him. DARKNESS FALLS! Cover by Harker! One! Two! Thr-NO! Angel gets a shoulder up! He tags in Kay. Kay putting the boots to Angel once again. Testicular claw! OH MY GOD! Angel is screaming in pain! But Angel dives and gets to the ropes.
NH: Hey! She just stole Little Good's rod!
Styles: She blasts Angel with it.
NH: I guess there aren't any rules in this one, huh?
SW: Would cavemen or astronauts care about rules if they were in a fight? C'mon, how stupid are you?
Styles: Angel is now wearing the crimson mask. She tags in Harker. Springboard guillotine leg drop connects! Cover. One. TWO! No. Angel kicks out.
SW: Don't wait on him, keep attacking him!
Styles: Harker waiting on Angel to get up. He's up! Harker with a flying sidekick! But Angel's got him! ANGEL LOCK! ANGEL LOCK! A bloody Harker is screaming in pain.
SW: Oh, thank God. Angel just collapsed.
NH: But I think the damage has been done to Harker's bare foot.
[Little Good begins banging on the top turnbuckle. The crowd starts clapping along.]
Styles: Both brawlers badly need a tag. They're inching their way along. They made it! Little Good charges at Kay and hits her with his rod! And he blasts Seth with his rod.
LG: This rod makes me feel so manly for some reason...
Styles: He covers Kay! One! Two! No.
NH: Kay is crawling toward the apron to get away from Little Good. But Little Good is coming right after her.
Styles: Double ax handle from the apron as their fight moves to the floor.
NH: Meanwhile in the ring, Kurt hits the Heavenly Slam on Harker!
SW: Yes! Ref bump! HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP!
Styles: As Angel hit the Heavenly Slam, Generic Ref got trapped beneath Harker!
NH: Kay's back in!
SW: KURT FEELS KAY'S BOTTOM!
SW: A little, yeah.
Styles: Little Good's back in. Kay grabs him. But Little Good hits a SECOND spinning reverse heart punch! Kay collapses to the mat! He covers Kay, but we don't have a referee!
[Trey Vincent runs down the aisle wearing a referee shirt. The crowd boos heavily.]
NH: Oh no no no no.
SW: Yes! Trey gets to warm up for the main event by helping restore order to this match!
Styles: NO! Vincent just kicked Little Good! He lifts him over his shoulder. Oh no! KRYPTONITE KRUNCH! I mean...COMING DOWN! Trey Vincent has just destroyed Little Good.
SW: Harker is back up. Trey's telling his Mystery Sports Entertainment Theatre 3000 partner to head up to the top rope and finish this match off.
Styles: KURT'S UP! OH MY GOD! WHAT A BELLY TO BELLY OFF THE TOP ROPE!
NH: I've never seen anybody move that fast before!
Styles: Here they are again, Angel and Vincent are eye to eye! LOW BLOW BY KAY! NO! Vincent hits a Shocking Conclusion on Angel!
SW: What a stunner indeed!
Styles: Kay crawls on top of Angel! Trey with the count. OH COME ON! That count was RIDICIULOUS!
[The bell rings.]
MV: The winners of the match, Seth Harker and Kay Fabe!
SW: CAVEMEN WIN! YES!
Styles: Let's take a look at some of the highlights of the match.
[Various shots of Kay Fabe in sexy positions are shown.]
NH: I've never seen a more blatant time filler.
SW: Sorry Heidi. I don't mean to point.
NH: Next up, we've got what's supposed to be the Drudleyville Streetfight. But since Coma took creative control of the match, it probably won't be one. Let's go to Michelle!
MV: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a...
[Sounds of a large casino wheel being spun]
MV: ...All of the Above Streetfight...
SW: Can we get that thing taken off him?
Off-screen voice: Poink!
MV: ...Scheduled for one fall! Présentant d'abord, descendant le bas-côté, pesant dedans à un poids combiné de...
SW: Ce qui la merde ?
MV: (taps calculator) ...242 kilograms! D'van avec Rubba Ray... LA GARCONS DRUDLEY!
[Accordion music plays as The Drudley Boyz run out from the backstage area. D'van is weighed down with about thirty pounds of onions and waves a barbed-wired baguette in a vaugely-threatening manner. Rubba Ray is wearing a full-body prophylactic.]
NH: Oh, gross! Rubba Rays' taking his name WAY too literally for my liking!
RR: Hey! Coma said this was called a French Letter!
Styles: Comas' English! And a moron! Take that off!
MV: Et leurs adversaires. D'ici, là et partout... Garçon de Coma et D'hallucination... LE GRAAL SAINT ÉCLATANT !
["La Marseillaise" plays loudly as Coma and Hallucination Boy cycle out to ringside on a bicycle built for three. StreetMime sits between them, looking confused.]
SM: " "?
Coma: Oui, mon ami! Le poink!
SW: And the match gets off to the expected scintillating start. Does anyone even think this has the slightest chance of working?
NH: Coma still has Creative Control. So, no. And do we really have to have a Paris Street Fight?
D'Van: Hey, why not? I prepared! I haven't bathed in six months!
Styles: But the stipulations were only made three minutes ago.
D'van: What's your point?
SW: Well, I think I think we're stuck with it...
McScotty: Or nicht. There's thae bell, an this yins oonderwae! The Doodley Laddies wi' a huuuuge cloothseline on Hallucination Lad! An' they're kickin' the shite outta the poor wee laddie!
McStyles: Och, this is terrrrrrible, McScotty! Comas' still trrrrying to get intae the rrrring! Finally he's in therrrre... OCH, MY GAWD! DOOBLE FLYING FACE FULLA HEID!
McHeidi: He's trrrrying tae pick oop Rrrrrrubba Rrrray forra bodyslam! Cannae get him oop?
McScotty: He cannae do it, McHeidi! He doesnae have the POOWER!
[The lights go out. Spooky piano theme. And Rubba Rays suddenly wearing a blank, white mask and carrying a machete.]
SW: Oh, no! A Haddonfield Street Fight? Someone always gets killed during one of these! Where's Jamie Lee Curtis when you need her?
NH: You'll be fine, Scotty. The virgin always lives, remember.
SW: Oh, thank God for.. HEY!
Styles: Rubba Michael Ray raises his blade... Coma is about to die a horrible death!
[A shot backstage shows Death checking his diary.]
Death: Nahhhh... Wait, what day is it? Damn, I should have been at Mike Monroe's dumpster last night. You got lucky, pal!
Styles: OH MY...
Styles: Wow, that was close! Rubba Ray vanishes beneath the murky waters that we're suddenly sitting in up to our armpits!
SW: And Heidi wore a white T-shirt today! SCORE!
NH: Live it up, wormdick. Anyone want to explain WHY the arenas under three feet of water? Coma can't be referencing what I think he's referencing, surely?
BigB: (Sailing past in a gondola) No, he's not! (sings) Oh, sole mio....
NH: Oh, good. So it's now a Venice Street Fight...
[Two seconds of static.]
NH: Or is it? Nothing changed? The arena's still flooded, and everyone's just standing around waiting for something to happen... oh, brother. let me check something. Scotty?
[Heidi turns to face Scotty and flashes him. A rain of cheap plastic beads nearly buries her.]
NH: (tucking in her T-shirt again) I guess we are stooping to the obvious joke. Coma, can we move along, please?
Styles: Scotty, are you okay?
NH: Oh, great, I broke his brain.
[Two seconds of static. Vintage footage of David Bowie in concert.]
[Two seconds of static.]
SW: The Drudleys who Comas across the ring.. he runs into a Double Reverse Elbow! Double Boot Choke! Special Guest Referee Adam Clayton with the count... a'one, a'two, a'three... and the Drudleys break at 4!
NH: Okay, who wants to explain why the bass player for U2 is the Guest Ref all of a sudden?
[Mainly because Comas' check wasn't big enough to get Bono. Although we could have gotten four of the original New Kids on the Block for the same amount...]
Styles: Hallucination Boy to the top turnbuckle!
HB: I claim this land for England!
NH: And a fat lot of good he's doing up there. The Drudleys fire Coma into the turnbuckle. He rebounds... Double Arabian Flying Snapmare! Great move from the Head Trauma Boy! Rubba Ray bounces back to a vertical base, Coma drops him with a Downward Inverted Eyepoke!
SW: Man, Coma's on fire!
Coma: I have an extinguisher, Mr. Stallone! SPLUNGE!
SW: WHOA! Twisting Somersault Nipple-Crippler! D'Van is knocked for an oversell! Loop. I said loop.
HB: Waldo, I see you! Here I come!
Styles: Swanton Bomb! This is remarkable! Are the Exploding Holy Grail actually having a good match out there?
[Coma falls over.]
NH: Yeah, right. Does anyone have any idea what sort of match this is?
Adam Clayton: I do, but I'm not telling you...
SW: Oh, I get it. This must be where the Streetfights Have No Name.
RRD: GET ME AN 18TH-CENTURY CHAISE LOUNGER WITH A MATCHING FOOTSTOOL!
DD: What the hell have you been smoking, bro?
[Jumpcut. All four men are suddenly wearing suits and ties, while hitting each other in the head with briefcases.]
RRD: BUY! SELL! BUY! SELL!
Coma: Greed is good!
DD: I need a new Porsche!
HB: Two martinis and stress-related coronary, barkeep!
[Two seconds of static. A bum on the street.]
Bum: Hey, buddy! Can you spare some CHANGE!
[Two seconds of static. Thumping, bass-heavy music. Coma in indescribably 80's clothes, popping, locking and breaking. The Drudleys, in equally homoerotic fashions, striking "tough" poses. Hallucination Boy, attempting to do the Robot. Or possibly thinking he IS a robot, knowing him.]
SW: A Beat Streetfight? Coma, NO! Our audience is NEVER going to be old enough to get that reference! CHANGE!
[Two seconds of static. God-awful 90's fashions. The Drudleys and Hallucination Boy fighting in a High School corridor. Coma looking soulfully at the camera, a sign with "TEEN HEART-THROB IN TRAINING" around his neck?]
NH: No, not a 21 Jump Streetfight, either! Try getting into THIS decade, please! CHANGE!
[Two seconds of static. An Air Force Base. Coma in fatigues, his hair a ridiculously high flat-top. Rubba Ray opposite him in a sumo outfit.]
NH: There's number 1 on the All-Time List of Things I Never Needed to See.
[Nothing happens. Coma stares at his hands.]
Coma: Well, it worked in the video game! CHANGE!
NH: Good, we're back in the arena. The Exploding Holy Grail have D'van in a double anklelock, although God alone knows how they did it. D'van Drudley's reaching for a tag...
DD: AHHHHGH! My hand! You cut my hand!
Freddy Krueger: Too bad... 'cause I'M YOUR PARTNER NOW, DRUDLEY!
Styles: Freddy's back! FREDDY'S BACCCK! *ahem*. Anyway, he's in the ring, and this looks bad for Coma and Aitch Bee!
[Dozens of happy, multi-racial children appear in the aisle and swarm the ring, along with various polystyrene-ish puppets. They surround Freddy and...]
Children: SUNNNN-Y DAY...!
Children: SWEEPIN' THE, CLOUDS AWAY!
Children: FREIND-LY NEIGHBOURS, THAT'S WHERE WE MEEEEET....!
Freddy's Voice: Help me! I don't mind the kicking, but for the love of God, someone stop them singing!
[Two seconds of static. A stockbroker.]
[Two seconds of static. The arena once more. A large "Welcome to Drudleyville, Pop: 137 (Drudleys)" sign hangs over the ring.]
SW: And we're finally in Drudleyville! Here's where the action really gets begins!
[Coma leans in to shot.]
Coma: Hopeful, isn't he? NEEP!
NH: The Drudleys have Hallucination Boy in a double Torture Rack!
HB: Gosh, this bed is so lumpy. I should buy a new one!
STYLES: OH MY GOD! DOUBLY DEADLY DEATH-DEFYING DRUDLEY DROP! DEVESTATING!
DD: Get the table?
RRD: Would you mind?
DD: Sorry, dude. I forgot to bring one!
Drudley in the Crowd: I got one!
Another Drudley in the Crowd: So do I!
Yet Another Drudley in the Crowd: I brought two!
[There's a confused few seconds as approximately 87 tables are hurled into the ring. Eventually, we can make out a massive pile of splintered wood, from which protrude the boots of D'Van, Rubba Ray and Hallucination Boy.
HB's Voice: Ahh, that's better. I wonder if I set my alarm clock?
SW: Coma crawls on top of the debris... he in the general area of D'Van... Adam Clayton makes the count.
Adam Clayton: 1! 2! 3! Someone pay me, it's all over!
[Back to Canada.]
MV: The following match is for the Swiss Army Belt and will be fought under Merry Holidays rules, which are as follows. Four wrapped presents have been placed under each bottom turnbuckle in this ring. Whoever is able to open the present during the match can use that gift as a weapon. The match ends by either pin or submission. There are no disqualifications.
["Fuck and Run" by Liz Phair begins playing.]
MV: Introducing first, the challenger. She is from Buttzville, New Jersey. This is Misty Waters!
[Misty comes out dressed up as a Santa's little helper, complete with a Santa hat and even bells on her red wrestling boots.]
SW: What a package. There is one box I'd love to rip open. Woohoo!
NH: I'll just pretend you mean one of the presents in the ring.
SW: Pretend all your want, Heidi.
Styles: This match hasn't gotten much hype, mainly because Misty has been on a big time losing streak of late.
SW: Hey, Heidi. Did you notice my belt buckle yet tonight?
NH: Ugh. Mistletoe?
SW: Yeah! What do you say. You. Me. After the show. I'll give you the yule log down by the fire? Santa Claus won't be the only one coming to town.
NH: What do I say to that? I'm converting to Judaism, starting right now.
SW: Damn it.
["Narayan" by Prodigy plays next.]
MV: And her opponent. From straight outta Dimension Z, the man who holds the Swiss Army Belt, Sir Zeno!
Styles: Alright. We are just about ready to get this one started.
[The bell rings.]
Styles: Zeno charges and he's got Misty by the throat already! He throws her up into the air, but Misty hits a dropkick!
NH: Zeno's trying for it again, but Misty kicks her way free.
Styles: Misty lands some punches, but Zeno whips Misty into the turnbuckles.
SW: I sure would love to stuff Misty's stockings. Woohoo!
NH: You almost out of Christmas innuendoes yet?
SW: No. Hey, Heidi, when was the last time you did it in a sleigh?
NH: Can we get a block function in the announce booth?
Styles: Afraid not. Misty with some chops that rock Zeno. Zeno rolls out to the floor, looking for a breather. Look out...PLANCHA! And listen to that ovation from the crowd for Misty.
SW: Oh, baby, I sure would like to show her my North Pole.
NH: Misty is going for one of the presents. Let's see what she got.
[Misty tears open a present. It's a box. She opens it up and it's one of the ugliest knitted bright pink sweaters you will ever see in your life.]
NH: Yowza. It's like something grandma would make. And you'd quickly burn by accident.
SW: What's she going to do, blind Zeno with it's ugliness?
NH: Let's see. Nope. She's gonna choke him with it.
Styles: That works. Misty continuing to choke away on Zeno, who is down to one knee, but Zeno grabs hold of Misty's legs. OH MY GOD! He just fell backward on the floor, smashing Misty into the concrete!
SW: Let's see what Zeno will unwrap.
[Zeno picks a gift and tears it open.]
Styles: The Clapper?
Crowd: Clap on! *Clap clap* Clap off! *Clap clap* Clap on, clap off, the clapper! *Clap clap*
SW: Figures a present gets a chant and not one of our sports entertainers.
NH: I was thinking about giving you that for a present, Scotty.
NH: Yeah. I know how hard it is for you to get out of your chair after you've been gorging on beer and nachos grande all night long to shut off the television.
SW: Well I've got something special in my sack for you, too! Woohoo!
NH: Oh, stop, already.
Styles: Misty back on the apron. Zeno smashes her in the head with the Clapper, and she collapses to the apron, holding her head. Zeno drags Misty up. He lifts Misty up. Powerbomb on the top turnbuckle! That was nasty. That could have broken her neck!
NH: And now Zeno is looking for more weapons. What will he unwrap this time?
Styles: It looks like a...a fruit cake?
SW: Aw, man. Nothing says "fuck you" like a fruit cake. Man. That's even worse than getting an STD for Christmas.
NH: I fear you.
Styles: Misty struggling to get up, and Zeno blasts her in the back of the head with the fruit cake. And again. Oh man, he's just clubbing her with that fruit cake. This is horrible!
NH: Zeno putting the boots to Misty's back now.
SW: Damn, that's really gonna hurt her in her other job. She may have to be off her back for weeks.
Styles: Obviously, Zeno is setting her up for his coup de grace, the Eternal Question. And it may be time right now. No! Chinbreaker by Misty! She grabs Zeno. TORNADO DDT! COVER! One! Two! No.
NH: But she's really favoring her back.
SW: I'm a big fan of her lower back. And I'm sure a naughty girl like that needs a spanking.
Styles: Misty is crawling for the last present. She tears it open. Oh NO!
SW: What is it? The credit card bill?
Styles: Much worse. It's a staple gun!
NH: A staple gun? That's a rather odd present.
Styles: Misty pulls out the staple gun. Oh no! Oh no!
[Misty pulls up Zeno and puts the staple gun to his forehead. She pulls the trigger! Nothing happens.]
SW: The hell?
[Misty begins shaking the gun and tries to staple Zeno's forehead again. Again, nothing happens.]
NH: Is there a safety on or something?
Styles: I don't know. Well, Misty's going back to the present. She's reading the package.
MW: Staples not included! Son of a bitch!
Styles: Zeno charges! Bulldog! He got Misty from behind.
SW: One of the hundreds of men to have that honor.
Styles: I think this is the end of Misty's chances of getting that Swiss Army Belt. She can barely even move now. Her back has taken some punishment.
[Suddenly, 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.]
Styles: What the...
Styles: What in the hell is this? The STWF is long dead!
NH: I don't know what to say.
[The crowd is staring in total cluelessness as Zeno is beaten down by the tennis rackets.]
SW: There's gotta be about 10 guys in there. No, eleven! Eleven people dressed all in black are assaulting Zeno with tennis rackets. What is going on?
[From the back, out charges, Lock, Shock, Barry, Mr. Paradox, Dr. Thrilla, Queen Mylisiv, Kurt Angel, XXXtreme Machine, Nic Flare, Meat-Puppet, Pete Trable, Snapmare Kid, Wig Show and Urine. The men in the STWF gear bolt and jump the Flimsy Guardrail and run for the front doors of the building.]
NH: This wasn't in your script, was it, Styles?
Styles: No. I didn't know a thing about this. I am in shock. And awe.
SW: Damn. I can't believe this.
Styles: The Stereo Type Wrestling Federation is a parody federation that came before Brawlers On a Budget. It ran from 1997 to 2000 if I remember correctly. But that means its been out of business for five years. I don't understand what this is about.
SW: Our BOB guys are chasing after the STWF. Didn't we just mention them on a Classix episode?
NH: Yeah. Death accidentally went back in time. You don't suppose that changed the history of STWF events, do you?
Styles: I don't know. If we did, then it really wouldn't change life as we know it, would it?
NH: Oh, let's not get into a philosophical debate on time travel.
Styles: Well, how do you explain it?
NH: I don't.
[We cut to the broadcast position as Heidi rips off her top, getting a huge roar from the crowd.]
NH: This is much simpler to understand.
SW: Oh baby!
Styles: Fair enough. Meanwhile, Misty is crawling toward Sir Zeno? Is this match still going on? Cover! One! Two! Three!
NH: That's insane! What a bizarre ending to this match.
SW: We should be used to crap finishes by now, shouldn't we?
MV: The winner of the match, and NEW Swiss Army Belt champion, Misty Waters!
Styles: Misty gets a pretty good reaction from the crowd, but the victory is actually overshadowed by this bigger development. Zeno's crew is checking on him. Have those masked attackers gotten away? Does anybody in the back know? No?
[We cut back to the broadcast position. Heidi has buttoned herself up.]
SW: This is bizarre. The STWF went out of business in 2000. It was one of the happiest moments for all of us because it meant we could sign all their wrestlers dirt cheap without the whole competition thing.
NH: Did any of them look familiar to you guys?
Styles: It was hard to tell. They just had those tennis rackets and nobody did any obvious trademark moves.
SW: I'd dare say this was a declaration of war. Maybe they're coming back.
NH: I think it's a little early to be worrying about a parody war.
Styles: It's too early to start speculation on motives for anything.
SW: What about the whole Monday night show?
Styles: What Monday night show?
SW: There have been rumblings about restarting Monday Nae Trous as a BOB show to go head-to-head with that other company on Monday nights.
NH: The UFC?
NH: Damn. That's ballsy.
Styles: Don't you mean the WWE?
SW: They're still on Monday nights? I haven't bothered to watch that poor excuse of a show in years! I figured Spike would have kicked them off for such low ratings.
Styles: Well, they did. They're back on USA now.
SW: Oh. Poor bastards. BWAHAHAHA.
["Taking Care of Business" by Bachman Turner Overdrive hits. Lock, Shock and Barry walk out, take a look around, and then wave out the BigBOSS.]
Styles: Well, I guess it's time to find out for sure if what's been rumored backstage all day has finally happened.
SW: A new Monday night war. I guess BigBOSS is a war president.
NH: Is that why he invited Clinton, Dubya and that other guy here tonight? Is that his advisory team?
Styles: BOB is about to go to war.
BigB: Hello, Montreal!
BigB: How is everybody doing?
Crowd: Good. How are you?
BigB: Well, I'm a bit concerned. I was all set to come out here with some great news about Monday nights. But I was, of course, shocked to see an attack perpetrated by the STWF of all places. But, regardless, we'll get to the bottom of this despicable attack on our company, because we have good news to announce tonight. BOB is going to war!
[The crowd cheers.]
BigB: That's right. On Monday nights starting in January, BOB will present Monday Nae Trous! Comedy Central has signed us up for a weekly timeslot!
BigB: So, I'd like to thank all the BOB fans for their continued cult-like support. And I promise I won't make you all drink any cyanide or anything. And that's a promise!
BigB: So, look out UFC! Look out WWE! Because starting in January, BOB won't be wearing any pants! Thank you everybody!
[The crowd cheers as "Taking Care of Business" plays and BigBOSS and his entourage leaves.]
SW: Wow. Is this like a roster split or something? What about Chloroform? What about BOB Is Boobs and Classix and our 4 a.m. timeslot?
NH: Do you honestly think he's thought that far ahead yet? Why do you think we're on vacation for more than a month after this?
Click Here For Grudge Match A-Go-Go Part 2
©2005 BOB Wrestling. We haven't wasted enough bandwidth yet!