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Grudge Match A-Go-Go

Keep Sending Us Money!

Click Here For Part 1

The DominoLuke Warm

Styles: Well, I think we're ready for our next match. The battle of two of the biggest legends in the annals of parody sports entertainment collide for the first time tonight.

SW: It's anals, Styles. Man, you're stupid.

MV: The following contest is a special challenge match.

Voice-Over: IF YA SMELL....WHAT THE ROCK....IS COOKIN'....IT SMELLS LIKE CRAP COMPARED TO WHAT THE DOMINO'S STIRRIN'!

[The Domino Rally theme plays, and The Domino is here.]

MV: Introducing first. Now walking toward the ring. From Frostproof, Florida. This is The Domino!

Styles: What a huge match this is going to be. Two of the biggest names in the history of parody sports entertainment collide.

SW: Biggest names? Luke Warm's name is only eight letters. And The Domino is only ten. If you include the word 'the.' Styles, it's pretty obvious to me the biggest name in parody sports entertainment belongs to the You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out Of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt. I don't even know how many letters that is.

NH: Seventy-four.

SW: Are you trying to turn me on, Heidi? You know, I'd really like to get in your pants.

NH: Sorry. There's only room for one asshole in my pants.

Styles: Oh my GOD, Heidi!

MV: And his opponent...

[Sounds of stuff breaking. Huge pop!]

MV: From Bumbeldink, Texas. This is Luke Warm!

SW: C'mon, Heidi. I know how to please a woman.

NH: Then please leave me alone.

SW: I just want to give myself to you.

NH: Sorry, I don't accept cheap gifts.

Styles: If we can get past these cheesy pickup lines and rejections, please, there is a match ready to start in the ring. Big staredown by these two legends.

SW: We still on?

NH: Yep.

Styles: On?

SW: We have two side bets going on this match. The over/under on the punch/kick count and the over/under on the number of times they'll hit their finisher.

Styles: Why didn't I get in on it?

SW: Well if you didn't have a bladder the size of a thimble, maybe you would have. So Styles, make sure you call every punch. Detached Narrator is also keeping track in case you do your usual suck job of calling the action.

NH: I'm also keeping score. Fans, feel free to play along at home.

Styles: And here we go. Domino delivers a punch. Another one. Another one. A fourth! A fifth! Warm is reeling as Domino winds up for another hard punch, but Warm blocks it! Right hand! Punch! Punch! Punch! Punch! Punch! STONECUT—no! Domino pushes Warm away. And Domino retreats to the floor.

[I really dread tallying this up.]

Styles: What is the over/under anyway?

NH: The oddsmakers have put the over/under on punches and kicks at 150. And the over/under on finishers hit is eight.

Styles: 150? Are you kidding?

NH: Nope.

Styles: Warm is going after Domino. Clothesline to the back of the head! Warm drags up Domino. Chop!

Crowd: Wooooo!

SW: Ah, crap, they're heading our way!

Styles: Warm whips Domino into the Flimsy Guardrail®!

SW: You call that a whip? The guardrail didn't even move!

[Warm stops dead in his tracks and turns toward the announcers.]

LW: Are you sassin' me, boy?

SW: No!

Styles: And Luke Warm gives you a double thumbs up. Guess he's showed you, Scotty.

SW: I'm wounded. To the bone. Really.

NH: Punch by Warm!

Styles: Warm tosses Domino back inside the ring. Punch by Warm sends Domino back to the mat. Stomp! Stomp! Stompstompstompstompstompstompstomp! Stompstompstompstompestomp! Stompstompstompstompstompstomp! OH MY GOD!

[HUGE POP from the crowd.]

SW: Sounds like a lot of fans picked the over.

Styles: It's a good thing you didn't turn this into a drinking game, or you guys would have alcohol poisoning already. Warm drags Domino up. He goes for a punch, but NO! That one didn't connect. But Domino connects! And again! A third punch by Domino has Warm reeling. Kick to the gut. Domino bounces off the ropes and smacks Warm down with another punch!

NH: Do we have a tally yet.

[Fuck no, I'm waiting until it's over. I'm just enjoying this magical BOB moment </sarcasm>.]

Styles: Domino grabs Warm and pulls him toward the corner. Domino heads to the floor. He pulls Warm OH! He just CROTCHED HIM!

NH: Oooh! Punch to the leg! There's another one! And another one!

Styles: And there's a kick to Warm's leg. And another punch! I guess I never noticed that their whole repertoire revolves around punch and kick related offense.

[Argh! Don't say punch or kick unless there is a punch or a kick you little twerp. Don't make me unleash a pack of rabid bears on you.]

NH: Domino is back inside. Stomp to the head! Stomp to the chest! Stomp to the head! Stomp to the head! Stomp to the belly! Stomp to the leg! Stomp to the leg!

SW: I think Luke's been properly tenderized.

Styles: Domino pulls Warm up. Oh! He eats a fist! Another punch! Another punch! And another to the skull sends Domino to the mat. Momentum is back in Warm's favor. Swing and a MISS! Oh! Domino just kicked Warm's legs out from under him! So how much do you guys have riding on this?

SW: Five bucks.

Styles: Oh. I couldn't afford such high stakes.

NH: Poor Styles.

SW: Mom jack up the rent on your basement again?

Styles: Domino looks ready to lock in the sharpshooter here! Oops, my mistake. He was just lifting up Warm's legs so he could punch him in the back of the leg. And again. And again. And again.

SW: Man, why can't Snapmare Kid have a good, rounded offense like these two?

Styles: Warm kicks his way free.

NH: He hit with both boots. Is that two kicks, or one?

[Two.]

SW: I'm fine with that.

NH: Damn!

Styles: Domino stays on the attack with a stomp to the back of Warm's head. And he's taking him back to the ringpost again. But he doesn't crotch Warm this time, he just slams his leg into the steel.

NH: Those knee braces have got to be absorbing all that impact. It probably doesn't even hurt Warm.

SW: Poor Heidi. Do we need to have a talk about the Easter Bunny?

Styles: He's coming our way now!

NH: Uh oh! He just went into Luke Warm's cooler! He's got a Luke-hoo!

[Domino begins drinking it, but quickly spits it out.]

Domino: The Domino says that is the SINGLE WORST thing The Domino has ever tasted! Even worse than Scotty Whatbody's mama's snatch!

SW: Hey!

Styles: Domino going back into the ring. He charges at Warm. DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!

SW: Crap, they already need a rest spot?

Styles: This has been a knock down, dragged out brawl.

NH: I don't think they're anywhere close to 150 yet, Scotty. Things are looking good for me.

SW: Can I work off the debt in trade?

NH: No. Wait. HELL no.

Styles: Both men struggling to get back on their feet. The crowd rallying behind Luke Warm, the thirstiest S.O.B. in BOB today. They're up! Domino lands a punch. Warm answers right back with one of his own. Domino connects! Warm connects! Domino connects! Warm connects! And here comes Warm! Another punch! Another punch! Another punch! Another punch! Domino is backed up into the corner. Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Stompstompstompstompstompstompstompstomp stompstompstompstompstompstompstompstompstompstomp!

[Another pop from the crowd as Warm gives a double thumbs up and walks around the ring.]

Styles: Domino kips up! He charges at Warm! Punch! Punch! Punch! Punch! Punch misses and DOMINO RALLY BY WARM ON THE DOMINO! OH MY GOD! This crowd is on fire! COVER! ONE! TWO! THR-DOMINO KICKS OUT!

SW: Don't burnout yet, Styles. We've got some more finishers to go through. I know I'm feeling a little horse.

NH: That's not a pony. That's my leg.

Styles: Warm is waiting on Domino to get up.

SW: Quit overselling and get up!

Styles: Here we go! Double thumbs up! Kick by Warm! STONECUT-NO! Domino...STONECUTTER BY DOMINO ON LUKE WARM! OH MY GOD! Domino...he only puts one foot on Warm! Are you kidding me!

NH: One! Two! No! Warm easily brushes Domino's foot off.

Styles: Now Domino is waiting on Warm to get up. Warm is struggling here after absorbing his own finisher. Punch by Domino. Another one. Warm blocks a third and unleashes a huge punch. There's another one. And another one. Kick to the gut! STONECUTTER! OH MY GOD! Domino just bounced so hard he went over the top rope to the floor! Now THAT was extreme.

SW: But now Warm can't get the easy pin.

Styles: An exhausted Luke Warm slides to the floor and pulls up Domino. Back into the ring. Here comes Warm with the cover! Will this do it!

SW: I hope so! I'll win if this is it!

Styles: One! TWO! THRE-NO!

NH: I guess Warm isn't gonna wait this time. He viciously pulls up Domino.

SW: Punch to the nads by Domino!

Styles: DOMINO RALLY! COVER! ONE! TWO! THRE-NO! I don't believe it! Luke Warm just kicked out!

NH: Is it just me, or did this match have no middle at all to it?

SW: Just how I like my women. Big in the front, big in the back and nothing in the middle. Woohoo!

NH: This crowd is loving this match. Which is odd, considering the company we work for.

SW: That and the total lack of any technical sports entertainment or high spots. Fans are so weird.

NH: I think we're about to see a THIRD Domino Rally.

SW: That's what my script says, too.

Styles: Both brawlers are obviously nearing the point of exhaustion, but neither wants to lose this epic punch and finisher fest. Domino grabs Warm. DOMINO RALLY CONNECTS FOR THE THIRD TIME! COVER! ONE! TWO! THRE-WARM KICKS OUT AGAIN!

NH: Domino using his hand to tell Warm to bring it on.

SW: Oh! I thought he was just doing the universal symbol for one hand clapping. I get it now.

Styles: Warm is up. DOMI—NO! Warm with an elbow to the side of the head! Domino is dazed. Kick! STONECUTTER! COVER! ONE! TWO! THRE-KICKOUT BY DOMINO!

SW: Why are these guys trying so hard? This is BOB. Stop trying!

NH: Oh, c'mon, Scotty, you know you just don't want them to get over eight finishers.

SW: It's not that at all. Oh, fine, it is that.

Styles: Both men are exhausted, trying to get up. The fans are still buzzing over this unprecedented brutality! Kick by Warm!

[HUMONGOUS POP!]

Styles: OH MY GAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWD!

SW: I've NEVER seen THAT before! I mean, SHIT! I just lost!

Styles: As Luke Warm was going for a STONECUTTER, Domino hit an inverted Domino Rally!

NH: So, does that actually count as a finisher?

[Yes! Of course it does!]

NH: Detached Narrator sounds a little bit stressed.

[I'm not looking forward to counting these kicks and punches.]

Styles: it doesn't seem like either man can roll over and make a cover.

SW: They're doing a good job of rolling over and playing dead, at least.

NH: The referee is starting the count.

GR: One! Two!

Crowd: THREE!

GR: Three.

Crowd: FOUR!

GR: Yep, four!

Crowd: FIVE!

GR: Five?

Crowd: Six!

GR: Right, six!

Crowd: SEVEN!

NH: They're starting to stir.

Crowd: EIGHT!

GR: Eight!

Styles: Domino with a punch! Here comes a, what, FOURTH, Domino Rally? I've lost count. But Warm blocks. Kick to the gut. STONECUTTER! NO! Domino spins him around. Domino Rally coming...NO! Kick to the gut. STONECUTT—NO! Domino shoves him away and pulls him in for a Domino Rally. NO! Kick! STONECUTT-NO!

SW: Dosey-do and around and around they go. When this match will stop, no one knows.

Styles: Domino with a kick! STONECUT-NO! Warm is dizzy! He charges at Domino! Misses! Domino kicks Luke Warm in the gut. LUKE WARM STONECUTTERS HIMSELF! OH MY GAWWWWWWWWWD!

NH: COVER!

Crowd: ONE! TWO! THREE!

Styles: Luke Warm was just beaten BY HIS OWN MOVE!

NH: He just beat himself!

SW: Hehehe, you said beat himself.

MV: The winner of the match....The DOMMMMMMINO!

NH: Luke must have been so confused by getting kicked in the belly. That's the natural set up to the STONECUTTER.

Styles: So, who won the bet?

SW: Well, I know we saw a previously unseen nine finishers connect. Which means Heidi wins that over-under. Narrator? How's it going?

[I feel like Florida in 2000, Scotty. But unlike that election, these results will not be forged by the Republicans. Can I get a HIYO?]

NH: Hiyo!

[OK. Let's see. We've got...zubba zubba zubba...OK. According to my calculations...we had a total of....*drumroll*...hold on, more tension is needed...

...

*louder drumroll*

...

One hundred and thirteen kicks and punches!]

SW: SHIT!

NH: I believe someone owes me $5.

SW: Can I at least stuff it in your G-string?

NH: Well......no.

SW: Awww...

Styles: Poor Scotty. Well fans, it is time for the Snore Games Cage Match! This thing has really been heating up for months and now it’s finally here. It’s about to get EXTEMELY EXTREME at Grudge Match A Go-Go! IT’S THE FINAL SHOWDOWN! IT’S SNORE GAMES: THE MATCH BE-YAWN!

SW: Hey Heidi, got time for a quickie while Flunky puts the cage up?

NH: With you? Flunky’s putting up a single chain link?

SW: WHAT? I last all night long!

NH: That’s if you started at sunrise the next morning, Scotty. I’d imagine you with a woman would take about as long as the moment she takes her bra off.

SW: That’s absurd! My foreplay alone takes a good three to four hours!

NH: Really?

SW: I go down below, you know. Down there. And four hours later, after I know my partner for the night is REALLY ready to go…. THEN I get busy.

NH: Are you serious? I don’t believe you…(shifts in chair)

SW: I’m TOTALLY serious! I practically have them BEGGING for me to stop my LASHING LUNGES OF SQUIRMING DELIGHT!

NH: Shut up, Scotty….(more uncomfortable shifting in chair)

SW: MY FLICKERING TICKLER OF THE OL’ C-BUTTON!

NH: Scotty… stop it. (arches back, shifts QUICKLY to the left)

SW: MY MULTIPLE OH-GAZ MACHINE! MY LIGHTNING LICKS OF LUST!

NH: OKAY! THAT’S ENOUGH! Call me later.

Styles: OH MY GOD!

SW: WHOO HOO!

NH: Ummmm. Huh? Yeah. I was just kidding, Scotty. I’ll never do it with you.

SW: Don’t ever say never. I am the lead commentator around here, you know? That means… you’re on my staff. BWAAA HAAA HAA! (kid’s sing-song voice) Heidi’s on my sta-aff…. Heidi’s on my sta-aff…

Styles: Are you threatening her, Scotty? That’s a sexual harassment claim waiting to happen!

SW: Oh, she hasn’t SEEN sexual harassment until she experiences my (Sisqo impersonation) TONGUE…. TA-TA-TONGUE-TONGUE.

NH: …

Styles: Oh my god?

NH: Call me later, Scotty. And don’t say anything else disgusting to make me change my mind.

Styles: OH MY GOD!

SW: We really need Mark Shill here to hype THIS moment. WHOO HOO!

NH: Watch it, Scotty.

Styles: * ahem * Well, it appears we’ve stalled long enough, it looks like Flunky has managed to get the cage up. This is going to be the biggest grudge match of them all!

SW: Until later tonight when Sarah faces Death…. and Death kicks her ass and becomes THE ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. I can’t wait for that one. But I can’t wait for this one either. Call it, Styles.

Styles: IT’LL BE EXTREME!

NH: And due to the confusion of this WarGames rip-off, and the bizarre combinations of the teams participating, no one could really determine which team should deserve the obligatory heel status by getting the two-on-one advantage. So, I understand that the Medium Sized Bucket ® will be utilized once again in BOB’s history to give this one a unique twist. One member from each team will be chosen from the Bucket to start off the five-minute one-on-one segment. Then the four remaining names, both remaining members from each team, will all be placed in the Bucket and every two minutes one will be drawn out until everybody is in the cage. Then the match STARTS and it isn’t over until somebody submits.

SW: I know ONE person who is going to SUBMIT later. WHOO HOO!

NH: Scotty? You’re treading that fine line…

Styles: By the logic of the random Bucket ® draw, do you mean it could possibly be three-on-one at one point during the wear down part of the match?

NH: Yes, that’s possible.

Styles: OH MY GOD! What if Ali ends up in there with douja, Thrilla, AND Paradox? He could be killed! He’s so old and feeble! THIS IS EXTREME!

SW: Lot of history in this one. That’s for sure! Looks like Flunky has put the finishing touches on our crappy cage. Michelle’s in the ring for the announcements and she has the Medium Sized Bucket ®!

Styles: The tension’s so thick you could cut it with a knife! Or a sword…

Michele: Ladies and gentlemen, this is THE FINAL SHOWDOWN. No swords or scalpels allowed.

SW: Dammit man… this IS going to be a snore games.

Styles: What about roach clips? You do realize that douja is in this match, right?

MV: I don’t know…

[Cut to Generic Ref at ringside]

GR: I’ll allow it!

Styles: That’s right, The Generic Ref will be at ringside for this one, no official in the ring at all during SnoreGames, The Match Be-Yawn.

SW: There’s really no official in the ring when Generic Ref’s in the ring if you want to get technical about it.

NH: Good point.

SW: Shhhhh, Michele’s digging around in the Bucket. Oh, who’s it gonna be? Who’s it gonna be? The first two guys picked have the longest night! And get the most punishment! And will possibly…. well, most likely --- BLEED THE MOST! YEAH, BABY!

MV: The first pick for the five-minute start… from The Valley of the Sun’s hippest, hottest nightclubs in Phoenix, Az. THIS IS STEVE STUDNUTS!

Steve Studnuts

["Right Now" by KoRn plays. Steve comes out to a loud mixed reaction. The mixed reaction soon becomes a huge pop as he’s seen wearing a shirt that has printed "I LOVE MAKIN’ CANADIAN BACON" on it. That bastard stole my idea, I SWEAR if I wasn’t disembodied and could wear a shirt, I’d kick his ass for stealing my idea, too.]

NH: Steve’s going for the cheap pop tonight, and it’s really working. Especially with the female fan base here tonight.

Styles: "Right Now" has to be one of the coolest ring intro tunes ever.

SW: It sure is! Nothing screams sports entertainment like "Right Now". Steve sent me a copy of the lyrics, it breaks kayfabe and everything! Listen to this:

(singing along as the song plays)
I'm feeling mean today
Not lost, not blown away
Just irritated and quite hated
Self control breaks down
Why’s everything so tame?
I Like my life insane
I'm fabricating and debating
Who I'm gonna kick around

Right now
Can't find a way
To get across the hate
When I see you

Right now
I feel it scratch inside
I want to slash and beat you

Right now
I rip apart the things inside
That excite you

Right now
I can't control myself
I Fucking hate you

I'm feeling cold today
Not hurt just Fucked away
I'm devastated and frustrated
God I feel so bound
So why'd I feel the need?
I think it's time to bleed
I'm gonna cut myself
and watch the blood hit the ground

Right now
Can't find a way
To get across the hate
When I see you

Right now
I feel it scratch inside
I want to slash and beat you

Right now
I rip apart the things inside
That excite you

Right now
I can't control myself
I Fucking hate you

You open your mouth again
I swear I'm gonna break it
You open your mouth again,
Oh God I cannot take it

Shut up, shut up, shut up or I'll Fuck you up
Shut up, shut up, shut up or I'll Fuck you up
Shut up, shut up, shut up or I'll Fuck you up!

[Styles and Heidi start an impromptu, and highly over exaggerated, mosh pit at ringside]

Shut up, shut up, shut up or I'll Fuck you up!
Shut up, shut up, shut up or I'll Fuck you up!
Shut up, shut up, shut up or I'll Fuck you up!

Right now
Can't find a way
To get across the hate
When I see you

Right now
I feel it scratch inside
I want to slash and beat you

Right now
I rip apart the things inside
That excite you

Right now
I can't control myself
I Fucking hate you

I Fucking hate you [x4]
I Fucking hate you (Shut up!) [x3]

Shut up!

NH: Nice, Scotty. Was it REALLY necessary to play the ENTIRE song? And I’m glad this is a pay-per-view. If this were the STWF, that song would be all bleeps.

Styles: Yep, that song did pretty much, sum up Studnuts. He really doesn’t care too much for anybody but himself.

NH: Mikey? I know you tried to rub my breasts while I was body surfing. But that’s okay, I guess. It happens.

SW: Lucky bastard. Anyway, what a great way to lengthen this spot. Those lyrics took up a lot of space! Did you hear the part about cutting himself? I hope they ALL do in this one! Heh, I said "lengthen".

NH: Scotty…

MV: And his opponent for the five-minute portion (pulls out slip of paper) from Tijuana, Mexico…. THIS IS DR. THRILLA!

Dr. Thrilla

["Under the Knife" by AC/DC plays. General indifference accompanies Dr. Thrilla until he beats a ringsider briefly with a road sign before returning to his walk to the ring. Boos now accompany him the rest of the way.]

Dr. Thrilla: * angry metal clanging *

SW: Wow, Dr. Thrilla is NOT happy about being drawn first!

Styles: Well, with the damage he caused to Steve’s home some time back, he’s finally going to pay for it.

SW: But not with money! WHOO HOO! He’s gonna bleed! BLEED LIKE A PIG!

Dr. Thrilla: * threatening metal clanging *

NH: You better watch it, Scotty.

Styles: Studnuts is in the cage, but Thrilla is not wanting to enter. He’s stalling! He’s gesturing threats at Studnuts but he’s not going to get in there it looks like.

SW: Steve’s challenging him to enter. He lay down on the mat!

NH: Dr. Thrilla is not taking that bait. He’s still at ringside clanging at fans.

Styles: OH MY GOD! Who’s that?!

SW: NO WAY! IT’S G.I. SLOW!

NH: I don’t understand this. G.I. Slow is…. slowly waddling down the aisle. This makes no sense at all.

[several…. several minutes later]

Styles: G.I. Slow is at ringside! WHAT?! HE CLOBBERED THRILLA WITH AN OVERHAND FOREARM SMASH! OH, THE HUMANITY!

NH: He’s throwing Thrilla into the cage!

SW: And the door is locked! WHOO HOO! HERE WE GO!

NH: It’s been brought to my attention that G.I. Slow recently went to Tijuana looking for cheap liposuction. And he got it.

Styles: Doesn’t look like it… he’s fat as ever.

NH: Well, there’s only so much one can do with a stapler and a wetvac.

SW: Studnuts is all over Thrilla like a cheap poncho! Right hand! Another punch staggers Thrilla! A third knocks him down! Thrilla struggles to his feet, Steve grabs him by the ear and points towards the cage!

Styles: It’s getting EXTREME early on!

NH: Thrilla breaks up Steve’s playing to the crowd for baby face approval with a shot to his stomach. Eye rake! Steve stumbles away but Thrilla follows his attack by a running knee to Studnuts’ kidneys.

SW: Steve fell face first into the ropes and slumps to the canvas. Thrilla now standing over him, grabs the top rope, and begins choking Steve out with his foot!

Styles: He doesn’t have to break either! There’s no ref in there! It’s EXTREME!

Dr.Thrilla: * confident metal clanging *

NH: What’s he saying?

Styles: (shrugs) Do I look like Cecil? Don’t answer that…

Dr. Thrilla: * cocky metal clanging *

SW: I think he’s talking shit to Studnuts!

Dr. Thrilla: * rhythmic metal clanging accompanied by hand gestures *

SW: Uh oh! He’s going Thrilla Life on Studnuts. He’s gonna get gangsta!

NH: (sarcastically rolls eyes) Oh my god. Sorry, Styles…

SW: Dr. Thrilla now picking Studnuts up, a couple of right hands to the jaw. Whipping him across, backdrop coming….. countered with a DDT!

NH: Studnuts’ back on his feet in a hurry, totally no selling everything that’s happened to him to this point. He’s ripping off that ‘Canadian Bacon’ shirt... and calling for the mic.

Styles: Generic Ref obliges, it’s all he can do.

Studnuts: Whatever hot chick grabs this shirt when I throw it out of this cage, gets it on with ME after the show. Ya dig?

[Moments of high pitched, female screaming in a Canadian accent can be heard. Steve climbs the ropes and drops the shirt over the cage… and right into Nurse Heidi’s lap. A coupe of minutes of dead air follows, until Scotty finally says…]

SW: Uhrah… does this mean I can still call you later? I can still call you, right?

NH: ….

SW: AW COME ON!

NH: Scotty, it’s Steve Studnuts. What do YOU think?

SW: THAT FUCKER!

Studnuts: Don’t worry, Scotty. I’ll let you watch the video… we’re Skull and Bones, I’ll hook ya up.

SW: Now that’s just not quite the same thing, now is it?

Studnuts: Take it or leave it.

SW: I’ll take it! WHOO HOO!

NH: Hey, I didn’t agree to any videos.

Studnuts: Take it or leave it.

NH: I’ll take it! WHOO HOO!

Styles: Heidi, I think you accidentally read Scotty’s line.

NH: The HELL I did!

Styles: OH MY GOD! Dr. Thrilla just nailed Studnuts from behind with a clothesline! A vicious attack! He now picks Studnuts up and SLAMS him into the cage! AGAIN! Studnuts is down!

SW: And possibly blading!

NH: Doesn’t look like it yet. But Dr. Thrilla has some more tricks up his bloody sleeve. He has handcuffs! He’s going to try and handcuff Steve to the cage again, just like what happened to him at Hard Drive.

Styles: Not going to happen! Steve grabs the handcuffs and punches Dr. Thrilla with ‘em! He’s thrown them out. But a low blow by Thrilla stops any more momentum from Studs in a hurry.

NH: Watch it, Thrilla! He has to use that later!

SW: What? The handcuffs?

NH: That, too. Shut up, Scotty.

Styles: Dr. Thrilla whips Studnuts across the ring and into the turnbuckle. Charges in… Studnuts moves and Thrilla dives right into the ringpost! Thrilla staggers to his feet. Lariat by Steve! Another! He’s setting him up for the Death Valley of the Sun Driver. Knee to the groin breaks that up!

SW: Looping right connects! Thrilla’s back in control. He tries to send Steve into the cage but it’s reversed! Dr. Thrilla hits the fence hard and bounces to the mat.

NH: Steve’s now mounted over Dr. Thrilla and driving repeated fist into his face!

Styles: OH! He just punched Thrilla in the mouth, and Steve’s shaking the effects off his hand. I think he hurt himself more with that than he did Thrilla.

SW: Steve’s picking Dr. Thrilla back up… sends him into the ropes. Sidewalk slam! Now he stands over him! Looks down at him! YES! He’s going to do it! HE’S GOING TO DO IT!

NH: Do what?

Studnuts: (looking down at Thrilla’s face, starts waving his own hand in front of his own face) YOU CAN’T BE ME! But I know you wish you could be…

[Steve then runs across the ring and bounces off the ropes, stops briefly over Thrilla, simulates masturbating for a second, then drops a fist to Thrilla’s forehead]

SW: YES! THE FUCK KNUCKLE SHUFFLE! WHOO HOO!

Styles: And I’m guessing a not so subliminal message that nobody can… * ahem * beat Steve Studnuts except himself.

NH: I’d like to try…

SW: Steve’s now heading to the top rope. Wait a minute! He’s climbing to the top OF THE CAGE!

NH: He’s really brave. Or stupid. He does realize this is a BOB cage, right?

Styles: It could fall any second! THE TENSION IS EXTREME! But he launches before the cage can fall apart!

NH: And MISSES the big elbow drop! Big momentum shift there. Steve’s had a history of injured elbows, that move might have cost him about 3 months worth of promos.

SW: Both men just laying there in the middle of the ring. I guess this qualifies for a rest spot…

Styles: Michelle’s asking for the mic. Has it been five minutes already? That was the fastest five minutes in wrestling history! OH MY GOD!

SW: * coughMarkShillcough *

Mr. Paradox

MV: [pulls name out of Bucket ®] The next participant. From Hot Springs, South Dakota by way of Dimension Z… XODARAP .RM!

Styles: WHAT?! Who’s dumb idea was it to write the names with a felt tip?

[Cut to BigBoss]

BB: * shrugs * They’re cheaper. So what?

[Back to ring]

Styles: The strip, Michelle! Flip it!

MV: Trey won’t let me do that… well, unless we’re in our bedroom! And only after the pole is sufficently greased.

NH: Eww.

Styles: Not that! I meant the strip of paper!

MV: Oh. Hee hee. [blushes] Umm. MR. PARADOX!

["Are We Ourselves?" by the Fixx plays as Mr. Paradox RUNS to the ring. Let’s hope the Fixx’s biggest hit never plays during this match. Which song? Well, it’s "Saved by Zeno", of course.]

SW: BOO! That sucked rotten ass!

[Fuck you, Scotty.]

Styles: * ahem * Generic Ref has let Mr. Paradox through the locked door! Steve has recovered from the missed elbow drop and has been beating the crap out of Dr. Thrilla! Thrilla has been busted open, but now it’s two-on-one!

NH: Nice pop for Paradox, these fans really don’t know who to cheer for. They hated his partner…

SW: Canadians can relate with Paradox. You know, since he’s from another galaxy and all. Just like Canadians.

NH: Hiyo!

Styles: Wild right ducked by Studnuts! He’s unloading on Paradox! These two HATE each other! Trading punches now! Studnuts beating Paradox back. Bumps him! Steve turns around into a SPEAR from Dr. Thrilla! OH MY GOD! HE CUT HIM IN HALF! Figuratively, that is. With Dr. Thrilla, you have to be specific like that.

SW: Right…

NH: Now both Dr. Thrilla and Mr. Paradox are putting the boots to Steve! COME ON, STEVE! GET UP! COWBOY UP! LET ME SAVE A HORSE AND RIDE A COWBOY!

Styles: Heidi, you’re supposed to be unbiased.

NH: Screw that, they’re messing up the rest of my night!

SW: Mine, too!

Styles: I don’t think they care! Double suplex! Paradox is now holding Steve’s legs down, laying on them. Legdrop by Thrilla! A second one! Now he’s biting him! With those metal teeth!

Dr. Thrilla: * hungry metal clanging *

SW: That’s gonna leave a mark! Or three….

NH: Man, he’s chewing him like a granola bar. Or whatever it is Dr. Thrilla eats when he’s really hungry. I can’t watch this…

Styles: OH MY GOD! Steve is bleeding badly. They pick him up and ram him into that cage! Steve crumples to the canvas in a heap!

NH: And if douja’s the next name drawn, which it could be… this could be the end of Steve Studnuts. And that would fucking suck.

SW: HEIDI!

NH: Oh, the mic picked that up? Didn’t think I said it that loud. What I meant was, if douja gets picked, it could be the end of Steve Studnuts. (inaudible mumbling).

Styles: It might be the end of him BEFORE douja gets out here! Dr. Thrilla lifts Studnuts to his knees and holds his arms behind him. Mr. Paradox POUNDING away with right after right after right into that bleeding forehead!
SW: Paradox now pulling Steve to his feet…. Reverse Backbreaker with a Spanish Twist!

Styles: You sure? What’d he do? I missed it, Heidi dropped her format and I was… umm, looking to make sure she picked it up.

SW: I dunno. But it was effective.

NH: Thrilla adds a sloppy knee drop. Now they’re picking Steve up again. Double impaler DDT! They’re going to kill him!

SW: And just when murder hit a 40 year low in the United States, too. Damn…

Styles: But we’re in Canada!

SW: WHOO HOO! Our 40 year low still stands!

NH: Whew! Michelle has the Bucket ® again! Thank goodness two minutes go by faster reading than typing. Don’t pick douja, please don’t pick douja…

MV: [pulls name out] The next participant…. dou…

NH: NO!

MV: …ja’s worst nightmare…

NH: Thank God.

SW: HOLY SHITBALLS!

Styles: OH MY GOD! IT’S G.I. SLOW!

SW: The Hell? That ain’t right…

MV: "The Smooth Operator", Dr. Silaconne M. Plants!

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

Crowd: BOOOOOOO!

Styles: Earth shattering boos from this crowd! THEY HATE SMP!

SW: Is anybody gonna clear up why G.I. Slow is standing in front of the goddamn curtain?

NH: Apparently, his forearm smash to Dr. Thrilla blew himself up so much it’s just taken him this long to get back up the aisle.

SW: Oh.

[Plants shoves G.I. Slow as "Smooth Operator" by Sade plays briefly. He falls, rolls over, continues rolling… continues rolling….continues rolling, rolls over a small child and quite possibly crushed him to death….details at 11.]

Styles: Studnuts is getting MURDERED! Double dropkick! Double brainbuster! Double flapjack! Double powerbomb! Doublemint Gum! Double QuarterPounder with Cheese!

SW: Double D Cups with Saucer Sized Nips! There’s a web hit…

NH: Would you two stop that?

SW: Plants has the stick. Oh boy…. Hey, wait a minute… why has this guy been getting monster pops for months leading up to this, and now they’re booing the shit out of him?

SMP: FI-NAL-LY…. THE DOC….. HAS COME BACK…. TO MON-TRE-HELL!

Crowd: BOOOOOOOO!

SMP: Yes, Canada… where "mounties" also means small tits and the nickname of guys that poke their wangs into other guy’s asses.

Crowd: BOOOOOOOO!

Styles: Studnuts can barely stand!

SMP: Come on, Montreal…. Let’s hear it! My good buddy, also recognized world wide by three letters, just like I am. Yes, I’m talking about HBK! He told me all about it. You guys don’t forget anything! Let’s hear it!

Crowd: YOU SCREWED NEIGE! YOU SCREWED NEIGE! YOU SCREWED NEIGE!

SMP: That’s right! I screwed Neige figuratively. Then I literally screwed each and every one of your mothers right in their drippy, pus filled glory holes! Then I cleaned my dick with a maple leaf!

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOO!

Styles: If this was any other kind of match, Studnuts would be finished!

NH: And Sil’s language has definitely been influenced by hanging around with Steve for a couple of months.

SMP: I ran the Neigger out of wrestling and made him retreat to his shitty hometown Montreal!

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOO!

SW: Yep, and this crowd hates him for it! Neige Thirteen is the only wrestler that’s more hated in his own hometown than he is on the road.

NH: Unless you’re the guy that made him come back home, like Sil claims to be.

SW: I heard Neige’s return to Montreal was the reason the Expos left.

Styles: Look guys… this is all well and good, but don’t you think Plants should get in the ring and help his partner? Steve Studnuts has taken a savage beating. Luckily for him, this match can’t end until everybody’s in there.

SW: HEY PLANTS! GET IN THE CAGE!

SMP: Oh, all right.

NH: Michelle has the Bucket ® again. SMP wasted his two minute period running his mouth!

MV: The next participant… ["Mama Said Knock You Out" by LL Cool J begins to play]

[huge crowd pop]

Styles: It’s Muhammad Ali!

SW: No it isn’t! Is THAT who I THINK it is?

NH: Oh God, it IS. And oh great, he too has a microphone.

Billy Polar

BP: That’s right! It is I, Billy Polar! The greatest white luchador in the history of white luchadors. History has vindicated me on that one. At one time I was probably the partner of SMP, some time or another. Not counting tonight. Yeah, The NQMC. That was us. Look it up, retards. I also knocked up Nurse Heidi.

NH: I think I’m going to vomit. That’s simply not true.

BP: Muhammad Ali is not cool enough to come out to "Mama Said Knock You Out". Well, he is cool, but he’s not as cool as I, Billy Polar. That’s my song. So I had to come out here. For that reason and because I, being Billy Polar, hate douja. These other guys? Whatever. Besides, you people would rather see I, Billy Polar, than you would some beat up old codger like Muhammad Ali. And besides besides, Ali told me in the locker room that he was just "too pretty" to be in a match like this. I, Billy Polar, is a…. am a….um, better partner because I’m so vastly intelligent I know every single match and how to win ‘em. I WENT TO HARVARD, DAMMIT!

Styles: They’re heading to the ring!

SW: Generic Ref has opened the cage door… Paradox and Thrilla have Studnuts set up for some half assed Doomsday Device. Paradox has Steve on his shoulders…. low blow by Plants! Polar catapults Dr. Thrilla off the top rope! The cage is locked again and only douja remains to enter!

Styles: These two BOB legends are cleaning house! Nipple Cutter to Dr. Thrilla! Polar had Mr. Paradox, there’s The Migraine!

NH: I thought it was The Anuerism.

SW: It’s a brainbuster, does it matter what he called it? It was effective!

Styles: Mr. Paradox is sent face first into the cage! There goes Dr. Thrilla as well!

NH: Doc’s motioning to Billy… what are they setting up for here?

SW: YES! They’re going to do it! It’s Who Wants To Be a Not Quite Millionaire! WHOO HOO!

Styles: Plants picks up Mr. Paradox, Billy has the mic Steve had earlier… it was still in the ring.

BP: Mr. Paradox. Welcome to Who Wants To Be a Not Quite Millionaire. Your first question: What am I, Billy Polar, getting ready to do to you? A) Kick you square in the balls? B) Slap you like a little bitch like Heidi? C) Remind you of how great I, Billy Polar, is? Um, am? D) Something green and leafy?

MP: …

BP: WRONG! No lifeline, bitch! Regis Philbin is gay and I, Billy Polar, would have been a much better host for that show.

Styles: Polar hits Mr. Paradox with a standing dropkick!

NH: That wasn’t a dropkick!

BP: It’s in the dropkick family! And if Styles wants to say it’s a dropkick, then it’s a dropkick. Because I said so. And I’m Billy Polar dammit, so whatcha gonna do?

SW: Dr. Silla has Dr. Thrilla!

BP: Metal Mouth Guy. I Billy Polar, have been in this match now for several minutes and yet remain unscathed. Why do you think that is? Because A) I, Billy Polar, is the greatest white luchador of all time? B) I, Billy Polar, is the greatest white luchador in wrestling history? C) Same as A? D) Same as B?

Dr. Thrilla: * confused metal clanging *

BP: Is that your final answer?

Dr. Thrilla: * confused metal clanging *

BP: I’m sorry, I didn’t quite understand that. Say again?

Dr. Thrilla: * confused metal clanging *

BP: You’re stupid. You obviously never went to Harvard, like I, Billy Polar, did.

Styles: Polar grabs Dr. Thrilla and rams him into the cage!

SW: Plants then sends Mr. Paradox into the cage! He’s busted open! Studnuts is back up… grabs a groggy Mr. Paradox… DEATH VALLEY OF THE SUN DRIVER!

[huge crowd pop]

Styles: OH MY GOD! It’s Muhammad Ali!

NH: He’s coming to ringside. What’s going on with this?

SW: I don’t know. Welcome Champ.

MA: I’m so pretty. Couldn’t get in a match like this. No scars for me. George Foremen couldn’t buss me up. Jerry Quarry couldn’t buss me up. Chuck Wepner couldn’t buss me up. Smokey Robinson couldn’t buss me up…

SW: Guh. I think you meant Smokin’ Joe Frazier and Sugar Ray Robinson. Smokey Robinson’s a singer. Alzheimer’s sucks, huh? You remember Smokey Robinson, don’t you, Champ? He was a member of The Commodores. He sang "Endless Love" with Diana Ross. Had that big hit "Hello".

MA: That was Lionel Ritchie, stupid ass. (gets up and leaves)

Styles and Heidi: BWAAA HAAA HAAA!

SW: …..

Styles: Oh… My …. God… BWAA HAA!

SW: Oh yeah, very funny… you guys suck.

MV: The final participant…. [digs around in the Medium Sized Bucket ®]

NH: Oh please… we all know it’s douja. Does she REALLY have to find the paper?

douja

Styles: douja’s not waiting for his name to be drawn! Here he comes SPRINTING to the ring to "How High" by Method Man and Redman! This place is going nuts now! douja is a surprising fan favorite!

SW: He’s the BOB Legend. Maybe these people pity him.

NH: Generic Ref lets him in…and locks the door.

Michelle: And now… The Match Be-Yawn, submission or surrender!

Styles: Here we go! The match have officially "started" and now it can end. douja stares down Studnuts, Plants, and Polar. It’s a stand-off!

SW: douja is going over to help up his partners. He picks up Mr. Paradox. KICK TO THE GUT! WHAT! HE HOOKS HIM! PLAYS TO THE CROWD! THERE’S THE CHRONIC NECK PAIN!

NH: This crowd is going wild!

SW: He picks up Dr. Thrilla!

Dr. Thrilla: * inquisitive metal clanging *

SW: CHRONIC NECK PAIN! WHAT THE HELL?!

Styles: douja is running around celebrating in the ring! What? He just high-fived Steve Studnuts! It was a set-up!

SW: Studnuts has Mr. Paradox… JERKWEED DEATH DROP! SMP has Dr. Thrilla…. SCALPEL’S EDGE! Meanwhile, Billy Polar is just standing around patting himself on the back like a poor man’s Barry Horowitz.

NH: That’s it. Plants, Polar, and douja were all members of the Not Quite Millionaires Club.

SW: And not to mention that Mr. Paradox embarrassed Studnuts and douja back at SMC 9!

NH: Oh yeah, I remember that. I’ve also been told we have that footage. Roll it Flunky!

[Cut to grainy footage]

SW: I can’t see from here. But there’s the bell. Studnuts using his foot to see if douja still has any signs of consciousness left. I can see the commercial in my mind already for this scene. Kids, don’t try this at home. Chairshots and weed just don’t mix.

MS: Paradox has got...HE’S GOT A SWORD!

NH: Paradox spins Studnuts around. OH! He just smashed the butt end of the handle into Studnuts’ skull! Not his face! Anything but his face!

SW: Studnuts is down to a knee. The fans are booing, a bit. Paradox backs up and charges forward and butt ends Studnuts in the face again. Damn. Studnuts has been punked out by Mr. Paradox. Studnuts has experienced a new low in his BOB career.

NH: And that’s saying something.

MS: And Trey Vincent and Seth Harker are TRAPPED in their LOCKER ROOM.

SW: They’re the lucky ones. They have alcohol with them. And the ability to change the channel, most likely.

NH: Now what is Paradox doing? He just produced a pair of tongs from his boot. The hell? Paradox picks Jones up and tosses him over the top rope to the floor.

SW: What the hell? I’m not gonna call this!

NH: I will! Woohoo! Paradox is using the tongs to pull down Studnuts’ tights! Whoa, baby!

SW: Slut.

NH: Whatever, Scotty. And now, douja’s pants are coming down.

SW: Dude! This is WAAAAY too gay.

MS: You only get FULL FRONTAL MALE NUDITY LIKE THIS IN BOB!

SW: And you are WAY too excited right now, Shill. OK.

NH: Paradox drags Studnuts...uh...on top of douja. Can we show this? This is getting borderline, even for Comedy Central.

SW: Don’t worry, it’s only, oh, 5:30 a.m. or so. Only freaks and perverts are up this time of day anyhow.

NH: You, included. Well, we’ve got Studnuts laying on top of douja in a rather, um, compromising position.

SW: Come on, Heidi. You know that’s 69-position. You’ve been in it enough times to know that.

NH: Paradox now has a digital camera and he’s taking photos. Oh, this is just getting worse and worse for Studnuts. And douja!

SW: And ME! And our viewers.

NH: For our ladies, I dunno. Maybe we should have a poll on our Web site. Who has the bigger penis. Studnuts or douja. Because from where I sit, it’s a toss up.

SW: Will you STOP!

NH: No! You can talk about breast size all the time, why can’t I talk about penis size?

SW: Because I’m not a flaming homo maybe?

NH: Paradox has taken several digital photos of douja and Studnuts with their tights down in 69 positions from multiple angles. That’ll be all over the Internet soon. And on my computer as soon as I can find them! Paradox kicks douja over and puts his boot on his chest.

SW: Onetwothree it’s over. Wow, quick count my Generic Ref and I can’t blame him. Paradox has taken this feud with Studnuts to a new level and I’m sure made an enemy in douja. Though I highly doubt this is the worst thing douja’s done when he’s been high. Heidi, please kiss me.

NH: Ugh, don’t ruin my afterglow.

[back to ringside]

NH: My afterglow WAS ruined. But I sure did get some GREAT screensavers.

Styles: Revenge has been a LONG time coming! douja has pulled a large roach clip from his baggy jeans! He’s pulling Mr. Paradox’s pants down with them! There goes Dr. Thrilla’s scrub pants! And there’s the 69 position!

NH: No screensavers are coming out of this…

SW: MR. PARADOX HAS TAPPED OUT! IT’S OVER!

Styles: Tapped out? From that?

SW: Dude, his dick is caught in a bear trap. Wouldn’t YOU tap out?

Styles: Yes. Yes I would.

Michelle: Umm. There’s technically no winner in this match, because no member of the opposite team forced Mr. Paradox to submit. However, the definite LOSER of this match…. MR. PARADOX!

[crowd cheers]

NH: douja’s calling for the microphone…

douja: dats right motha fuckas! nobody get away wit fuckin ovva sum old skool motha fuckas like us. my boy Steve gives me a call back in tha day an’ axed if i would help him fuck ovva dese guys an’ i says fuck yea. douja can be down wit sum cole blooded shit like dat. BUT! douja’s also down wit sum shit i bees wantin to get off my chess fo years, dogg. smp, i hate yo fuckin’ guts. i aint nevva liked yo ass froms day one. and i knows you gots yo-self a replica stwf inta-galatic title, nigga. hows about you put dat gold up fo grabs an’ we settle diss motha fucka once and fo all?

[He hands the mic to Dr. Plants as Billy Polar and Steve Studnuts leave the cage. Billy chats up a young lady at ringside and Studnuts slips Heidi his hotel room key.]

SMP: douja, you could never beat me in the STWF. And you could never beat me any other time. BUT! As much as I’d love to break my foot off in your turd cutter… these people don’t DESERVE to see me wrestle once, let alone twice in the same night.

Crowd: BOOOOOOOO!

SMP: Besides, you never earned a shot at the STWF I.G. Title when you were IN the STWF, what makes you think you deserve one now? But I’ll tell you what. You get yourself a BOB Legend title, since you like to claim that’s what you are, and at the NEXT BOB On-Demand Webcast…. We’ll have our STWF Icon vs. BOB Legend Match and settle this thing once and for all. My STWF I.G. Replica Title against your BOB Legend Title.

Styles: Icon vs. Legend? Didn’t we just see that in WWE with Michaels and Hogan?

SW: * pffft * WWE? Nobody watches that, Styles. Come on, really…

[douja snatches the mic from SMP]

douja: i’ll gets back to you on dat one, dogg. you might bees da lass stwf i.g. champion, but douja has won every motha fuckin title in bob. peeps da rant zone an’ i’ll let yo ass knows what up in dere.

[SMP grabs the mic back from douja]

SMP: The Rant Zone? So I should expect a two line RP / answer in about 2 years?

NH: That did it! douja just clocked Plants, knocking the mic from his hand! SMP fires back! And here we go! Undoubtedly the longest running feud in parody e-wrestling history is full on again!

SW: Did you just say you wanted to pull on my gland?

NH: No, Scotty… I didn’t. * sigh *

Styles: SMP and douja have fought their way outside the cage and to the floor, trading right hands! They’re battling up the aisle where they…. OH! Just got rolled over by G.I. Slow. I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of this.

SW: What? A steam-rolling G.I. Slow? WAIT! They’re back on their feet somehow! Even getting squashed by a fat, rolling jobber can’t keep these two apart! douja just slammed SMP into the Flimsy Guardrail ™! Plants strikes back with a chop….. then a overhand right….douja slams back with a shot to SMP’s ribs…. and they’re out of our viewing area. What a turn of events…

Styles: SMP and douja, one more time. STWF Icon I.G. Replica Title vs. BOB Legend Title. IT’LL BE EXTREME! If it happens…. I guess we’re all waiting on douja’s Rant Zone answer now.

NH: And who knows when THAT will happen… we MIGHT see that contest at Grudge Match A Go-Go 2008 if we’re lucky.

SW: 2008? My God, are we still going to be doing this in 2008? That blows!

NH: What? Like you can do anything else, Scotty…

SW: I can do lots of things!

NH: Lots of things, huh? Not to include getting sassy with Muhammad Ali, right?

Styles: BWAAA HAAA HAAA!

SW: Oh yeah? He’s lucky he left when he did. I was getting ready to kick his old ass.

NH: Sure you were, Scotty…. (rolls eyes)

DeathTrey VincentSteve LearyJohn SkeetDustbuster Boy

[The camera cuts backstage, where Death is walking, followed by Trey Vincent, Steve Leary, John Skeet and Dustbuster Boy.]

Styles: Well, fans, it is now time for the main event.

SW: Yeah! It's time for Sarah to finally lose that title and let it come home to the Skull & Bones Society.

NH: I'm not one to spread rumors, but there are a lot of rumors swirling around the future of—

DeathSarah the Jobber Slayer

MV: Ladies and gentlemen, THIS is the main event and will be for THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS!

["Killed By Death" by Motorhead hits. The crowd begins to boo. Death has HEAT! I'll be damned!]

Steve LearyJohn SkeetDustbuster BoyTrey Vincent

MV: Introducing first, the challenger. Being accompanied by the special timekeeper, Steve Leary, the special outside enforcer, John "Skeeter" Skeet, the special...something-or-other, Dustbuster Boy, Esq., and the special guest referee, the Vice President In Charge of Everything, Trey Vincent. He hails from the Neitherworld. This is the Million Dollar Entity...DEATH!

Styles: And there they are. The Screw & Job Society. That's what you should have called your friends, Scotty.

SW: Whoa! Death just stole a Canadian flag from one of the fans. HAHA! He's humping your flag, you Canadians! What do you say to that! Death, 1, Canada, 0. Oh yeah, wipe your bony ass with their flag! You're the man, Death!

Styles: If Sarah loses this match, it could be her last chance at ever holding that belt again.

SW: Damn right. The Skull & Bones Society decides who gets the titles in BOB. We'll start up that wet T-shirt division we've been talking about forever. She can have a girl's belt like that. That's a man's belt, Styles.

NH: So her numerous title defenses haven't changed your mind?

SW: This is a man's country and a man's world.

["Temptation Waits" hits and the crowd is standing and cheering.]

Styles: I think 5,000 Montreal fans disagree with you, Scotty. They love Sarah!

SW: Oh, what's this crap?

Styles: Sarah is waving the colors of the bleu, blanc et rouge of the Montreal Canadians, one of the most successful championship hockey teams of all time!

SW: Aren't they still on strike?

Styles: No.

SW: Really? News to me. Hockey may be the only sports watched less than BOB.

NH: Uh oh, check out the stuff on the floor. Some Canadians are yelling at Death.

Fan: Vous sucez, vous morceau immobile de merde.

Styles: Oh NO! TOUCH OF DEATH!

NH: What did he say?

Styles: I don't know, but whatever it was, Death didn't like it.

SW: I hope he had his life insurance paid up.

[The crowd gives Death even MORE heat. Nobody in Canada is afraid to die! Shit, we may have a riot on our hands here tonight.]

NH: You only get fatalities like this in BOB.

MV: And the champion. From Cloudydale, the ONLY WORLD BITCH THAT MATTERS, SARAH "THE JOBBER SLAYER"!

Styles: Look out! Death just jumped Sarah! Death punches her, but Sarah blocks! She punches back! And again! And again! Death is reeling and the fans are going wild!

SW: Heidi, why don't you go wild and flash the crowd? It IS pay-per-view. Sort of.

NH: Nah. Trey will never touch these juggies again.

Styles: Sarah tosses Death over the Flimsy Guardrail® and Sarah is already taking this match to the EXTREME!

SW: Oh, man. This doesn't help Death at all. He needs to get Sarah into the ring so we can screw her, promise we'll call her and then never do again.

Styles: Death and Sarah are brawling through this packed crowd here in Montreal. Any resemblance between this and a wrestling match will be purely coincidental. These two just want to inflict some knuckle prints on each other's skulls.

NH: What the hell? Where did Death get that stone tablet?

SW: Woohoo! Must be from God! We've got friends in high places! I think those are commandments 11-15! Look, there's Thou Shalt Not Build Luxury Casinos In The Desert. And Thou Shalt Not Start Wars For Oil! I can't make out the other ones.

Styles: Oh no! Death setting Sarah up for a Netherworld Powerbomb on the unforgiving concrete floor! NO! Sarah counters with a back drop and sends Death back over the guardrail! Oh my GOD!

NH: Hey! Dustbuster Boy just tossed Death a...board game? What is that?

Styles: It looks like a "Simpsons" Chess Set. Oh, right to Sarah's head.

BONK

Death: This stupid show brought me nothing but pain. Now I bring YOU pain.

BONK BONK BONK BONK

NH: Wow, he really hates that Halloween episode he was on, doesn't he.

SW: You've got to admit, it wasn't funny.

NH: He should just let it go already. It happened two years ago!

Styles: Death is chasing Sarah down the aisle as he continues to pummel her with that board game. OH! Sarah with a spinning roundhouse kick connects! Death eats a face full of Homer!

SW: D'oh!

Styles: Sarah hooks up Death. Snap suplex on Death! That's seven-feet and I don't know how many pounds she just suplexed with ease.

NH: Trey is getting in Sarah's face. Not a smart move.

Styles: Sarah grabs Death's arm. OH NO! She just made Death give Trey the TOUCH OF DEATH!

[Trey collapses.]

SW: Hey! He's the referee! There's no referee killing in sports entertainment!

Styles: Death and Sarah continue to pound away on each other. The newly widowed Michelle is checking on her corpse.

SW: Hey! A little respect for the dearly departed.

Styles: Champagne, Heidi?

NH: Please!

SW: Stop this!

Styles: We're just putting the fun in funeral.

SW: When he comes back to life, you two are in so much trouble.

Styles: Wait! What is BigBOSS doing out here?

BigB: C'mon, guys, why don't you go to the ring already? I don't want to pay for any damages you cause out here.

Styles: Sarah with a Cloudydale leg sweep that sends Death spine first against the Flimsy Guardrail®.

SW: Hey! Leave Ricky alone!

Styles: Sarah just stole Dustbuster Boy's Dustbuster!

CRACK

Styles: A Sarahconrana on Dustbuster Boy, Esq.! And now she's just blasting him with punches, lefts and rights, oh my GOD! Dustbuster Boy has been dustbusted wide open.

NH: Well, it looks like they're finally heading to the ring. But one referee is down and our something-or-other has been destroyed. That only leaves Skeeter and Leary out here in Death's side. And who's gonna referee?

SW: Get in there, Skeeter!

JS: I'll be the referee! Brilliant!

[Leary rings the bell as Death and Sarah finally enter the ring.]

SW: Hey! Get that fruit out of there!

JS: Me?

SW: No! The banana!

Styles: Sarah just peeled a banana and tossed the peel to the mat. She's force-feeding Death the banana!

SW: He can't breathe! Stop her!

NH: Death doesn't breathe, Scotty. He doesn't even have lungs.

Crowd: Death is gay! Death is gay! Death is gay!

SW: He is not!

NH: I dunno. He swallowed that banana like a pro.

Styles: Death rushes to his feet, but SLIPS ON THE BANANA PEEL! COVER! ONE! TWO! No. Sarah with a quick leaping leg drop. She pulls Death up. Inverted atomic drop. And that sure rattled Death's bones.

NH: Can I get a refill on the bubbly, Styles?

Styles: You sure can.

SW: How can you celebrate at a time like this?

Styles: Oh! Death with a big sideslam to halt Sarah's momentum.

SW: Oh yeah, here we go. Death has that stupid flag Sarah brought out to get some cheap pops. And now Death is choking her with it! Yes!

SNAP

Crowd: Booooooo!

Styles: Death just broke the flag pole over his thigh bone. And now he's hitting Sarah with the broken pieces, oh, right into her back and head!

SW: I once got a massage like that. I never went back there again. Well, maybe once more. OK, twice.

Styles: He pulls up Sarah and whips her into the corner. Knee lift! Knee lift! Knee lift! Knee lift!

[Death with a crotch chop?]

Styles: And Death slams his elbow into Sarah's head. And again.

SW: He's throwing elbows like Redman!

NH: Dedman?

Styles: BigBOSS has stayed out at ringside. Meanwhile, Skeeter has taken over refereeing duties and Leary is just out here watching the match. It looks like he's just waiting for the right opportunity to ring the bell.

SW: Yeah, the second Death pins Sarah. What are you implying, that we're going to try and screw Sarah out of the title?

Styles: Yes! I do mean to imply that!

NH: Death has Sarah locked into a front facelock now. But Sarah lifts Death up and tosses him away. Death is up, but Sarah with a baseball slide dropkick to the knees!

Styles: Sarah is dragging Death toward the corner. OOOOH! He just pulled Death's pelvis into the ring post! That's gotta hurt.

NH: It'd probably hurt more if he actually had testicles.

Styles: She wraps up Death's legs. She's going for...a figure-four around the steel post! OH MY GOD! That's EXTREME!

SW: Break that up! She's gonna break Death's legs!

[Huge crowd pop and a few "Whooo's" as she locks in the hold.]

SW: SKEETER! START THE FIVE COUNT!

JS: Break it up! One! Two! Three! Four! Five!

SW: DQ her!

Death: Do it and I'll KILL you. I can't win the title on a DQ.

SW: Oh, right. Blast this infernal red tape!

Styles: Sarah slides back inside and goes right to work on Death's, uh, bones. Targeting the knees of the big entity.

NH: Sarah is carrying Death to the best match of his career.

SW: Itdoesn'thurtthatwerippedoffthelayoutfromarealmatch.

NH: What was that?

SW: I said from I sure would like to rip off your outfit and see your snatch. Oh no!

Styles: Sarah's got the figure-four locked in the middle of the ring this time! This should be it! There's no way Death can reach the ropes.

[Death reaches for a rope and easily grabs it.]

Styles: Or, maybe there is.

SW: He's seven feet tall. Do the math, Styles.

Styles: Sarah breaks the hold. She picks up Death. Oh, what a backbreaker! Sarah holds on for a second backbreaker! And there's a hat trick of backbreakers on Death!

[The crowd gives a standing ovation. Baseball caps begin flying into the ring and ringside area. Sarah steps aside as The Flunky runs down with a trash barrel and a broom to sweep up the caps.]

SW: Oh, man, Death needed this break! C'mon, Death! Get your second wind!

[Sarah waves to the crowd, which continues to give her a standing ovation.]

NH: Sarah heading to the floor. Now what?

SW: Oh no! Skeeter is down!

[Flunky holds up a knight's helmet. Cut to the crowd, where a man in a suit of armor, sans helmet, is applauding.]

Knight: YEAH, SARAH! WOOOO!

SW: Hey, Sarah just got a chair!

[Flunky sweeps Skeeter out of the ring, getting a good pop from the crowd. The match resumes.]

SW: Leary, bring me the bell and get in there!

SL: Really?

SW: Yes! Do it or I'll take away your PlayStation 2 controllers.

SL: Awww!

Styles: Death is pulling himself up, using the ropes. He's just about all done here, guys.

NH: Never count out Death. Aside from Moses, there is nobody Death hasn't been able to conquer.

Styles: Sarah tosses the chair to Death, who quickly hot potatoes it to Leary.

BANGBANGBANG

Styles: OH MY GOD! Leary just ate a steel chair triple kick! Death charges at Sarah, but Sarah with a double leg takedown! What the? She's going for a sharpshooter!

SW: NOOOOO!

NH: But there's no referee!

SW: YESSSS!

Styles: BigBOSS is getting in the ring!

SW: NOOOOOO!

NH: Oh, crap, I just spilled champagne all over me.

SW: YESSSSS!

Styles: DEATH IS TAPPING OUT!

SW: NOOOOOO!

[HUGE pop! Easily the biggest of the night. Sarah runs out of the ring and grabs the title belt. BigBOSS goes to the floor and rings the bell, since Scotty refuses to. Since Michelle is gone, nobody announces that Sarah has retained. Styles and Heidi are celebrating with Sarah, who is doused with champagne, getting a great pop from the crowd, since Sarah was sports entertaining in a white top. Scotty is staring in disbelief. He flips over the EZ Break Announce Desk and throws his script toward the ring. I'm out of here. What a train wreck for the Skull & Bones Society.]


©2005 BOB Wrestling. Can everyone finally get over it now?

 

© BOB Wrestling!

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