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Caption: Earlier today

[Michelle, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer's" sister, knocks on a door.]

Trey Vincent: Come in.

[She does. It's his office, which consists of a small television, a table and a forest green leather chair. Various grunting sounds can be heard coming from the television. Sounds like porn to me.]

TV: It is.

Michelle: It is what?

TV: Oh, sorry, talking to Detached Narrator.

Michelle: Ahh.

TV: So here's the deal, Michelle. Tonight, since you're under contract and don't seem to do anything at all around here. You can't sports entertain. You can't cut a decent promo. But Trey Vincent has a question for you. Can you read?

Michelle: At a ninth grade level!

TV: Aren't you a senior?

Michelle: I'm a little slow.

TV: Ah. Well. This is pretty easy stuff. Tonight, I am trying you out as our replacement ring announcer, since I had to fire Masked Announcer. Along with all those other scrubs who were clogging up valuable money.

Michelle: I won't disappoint you.

TV: Good, good. Now. You also apparently don't know how to dress. You are 18 now, right?

Michelle: Sure am.

TV: Great. Phew. Alright. So here's what you're gonna wear tonight. This will guarantee replay buy rates, once everyone here's what you were wearing. You've got a hot, legal-age body. Why not put it to good use?

Michelle: Because I'm not a whore?

TV: No, you're not a whore. The girls in THIS scene are (he says pointing to his television). But not you. C'mon. Masked Announcer had no sex appeal.

Michelle: Maybe he would have if you gave him this black bustier with a lace-up front and lace sides. And a black g-string?

TV: *Shivers* Thanks for that mental picture. But you'll look smoking in that.

Michelle: High heels too?

TV: Nah, we couldn't afford shoes. Go out barefoot. That's even sexier.

Michelle: Really?

TV: You are so gat damn beautiful. You should show off your goods.

Michelle: Really? Sarah always says I'm fugly.

TV: She's just trying to make sure you don't overshadow her. Now, go out there, announce your pretty little ass off and you may be our new full-time announcer. Bonus points if your torpedoes fall out during the show!

Michelle: Well...

TV: You can keep the outfit.

Michelle: Oh, what the heck. I'm young. I'm beautiful. And way sexier than my sister. It's time to show it to the world!

TV: Or, .000000001 percent of it.

[Loud rock music, but a blury black-and-red patterned screen. Clive, wanna pan upwards, you're filming the linoleum. Okay, better. A rock band is playing in front of a blue-screen that's screening sub-par Commodore 64 graphics. The BigBOSS is pretending to play lead guitar, and miming away to a knock off of the Ramones "The KKK Took My Baby Away". Look, I calls 'em like I sees 'em, folks.]

BB: I went away for a holiday,
The IRS wants me to pay
Now what we got here?
Yeah, what we got here?
Yeah, what we got here, it's Trey-ey!

I gave him the keys, yeah that's okay
But now he just won't go away-ay
Now is that shit fair?
You know it's not fair,
You know it's not fair, oh no-oh!

A Guy called Trey took my baby away,
He took BOB away,
Away from me.
A guy named Trey took my baby away,
He's booking my fed,
He's booking my fed, for me.

Band: Hey! Ho! Hey! Ho!

BB: Now I know,
That my booking was bad.
He took it from me,
It makes me sad.
And I don't know,
Who my champions be.
'Cause basketball be,
A mystery to me.

Dial, dial, dial up
my cheap ISP.
'Cause I can't recall
Where my website can be.
I'm hidin', hidin', hidin
From the FBI
And hopin' that my fed is alive!

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
Oh, oh, oh, oh...

I sold my fed to a guy named Trey,
You know I think that guy is gay-ay!
He's losing his hair,
He's losing his hair!
That's just a rug they say-ay!

A guy called Trey took my baby away,
He took BOB away,
Away from me.
A guy called Trey took my baby away,
He took it away,
Away from me.

A guy named Trey took my baby away,
He took my fed,
He took my baby away.

[The band thrashes to a noisy, sweaty climax. Crap, did I say that? Man, I write better porn than Anne Rice.]

The Lil'BOSS: You know, he does do a much better job that you, Stewart. I mean, if you take the regular cards, the angle development, the better spelling...

BB: Shut up, underling.

Send Us Money: On Your Hard Drive!

Live On The Web! AHHH! A Spider!

[We are live in Manilla, Iowa. Live? Yes, live. It's a live Webcast people. Deal with that fact for a minute, I know you're stunned. OK. We're in the Folder Arena. I'd say it's about 85 percent full. Not a bad turnout. They don't seem to realize the show has begun, but I'm not gonna tell 'em. We cut to Styles, Scotty Whatbody and Nurse Heidi.]

Styles: Hello everyone and welcome to Brawlers On a Budget's Send Us Money: On Your Hard Drive! I am Styles. And what an event we've got for everybody tonight.

Scotty Whatbody: Forget all that for a minute. You are looking at the new Senior Announcer. How dare you speak before me, Styles.

Styles: It's just a title, Scotty.

SW: Just a title? I could have you fired. I've got stroke.

Nurse Heidi: I can't believe you got Mike Monroe and Mark Shill both fired.

SW: Aw, c'mon. Just because they have families and rent to pay should not influence my petty goals. I'd just like to thank Trey Vincent for finally recognizing that Monroe is useless to me, er, I mean BOB.

NH: Right.

[The crowd suddenly pops BIG. "My Michelle" by Guns N Roses plays as Michelle walks out.]

SW: What's going...WHOA! Is that MICHELLE! Humina humina humina!

Styles: Michelle?

NH: Good God. She's actually wearing that hooker-wear that Trey picked out for her.

Styles: What's up with that, Heidi. It looked like Trey was coming onto her in a major way.

NH: Oh yeah. Note to Trey: we're so over.

[Cut to Trey Vincent.]

TV: Um, excuse me, Heidi. Do you see a ring on your finger? Well, get used to that sight my dear. BWAHAHAHAHA!

[Back to ringside.]

NH: He's a worse boyfriend that Billy Polar ever was.

SW: Ah well. I guess you can take me in with open...arms.

NH: In your dreams.

SW: Every night. Hey, I bet I could get you a promotion to Junior Announcer. You could probably have Styles' job.

NH: Not that desperate, thanks.

Styles: Well, Michelle is looking just amazing.

SW: Oh, to be the meat in a Sarah Michelle sandwich. I'd provide the mayo!

NH: Ewww!

Styles: Well, let's head up to Michelle for the introductions.

Michelle: Welcome to On Your Hard Drive!

[Various whistles and catcalls are heard. Somebody throws a pair of boxers into the ring.]

Michelle: Uh, thanks for that warm, strange welcome. The opening contest of Send Us Money: On Your Hard Drive is for the vacant Swiss Army Belt! The rules are simple. So I won't bother explaining them.

SW: Somebody must've forgot to write them down for her.

["Temptation Waits" by Garbage plays.]

MA: Introducing first. From Cloudydale, Connecticut. This is Sarah "The Jobber Slayer"!

Styles: And Sarah doesn't look happy.

SW: She should be. She gets to wrestle for the two top belts in one night. She's got a hot body and could have her choice of any man and most women on the planet. And her sister is totally sexy.

STJS: What are you wearing? In public? Are you crazy?

Michelle: You know what. You do the sports entertaining. I'll do the being sexy thing, since YOU obviously can't.

SW: Aww, c'mon girls, you can both be sexy. Sarah just needs to shed some material from her outfits.

Michelle: Next.

STJS: This isn't over, missy.

["Ride of the Valkryies" plays. All eyes turn to the rafters.]

MA: He is from Banzai Falls, Georgia. This is Kamikazie Ken!

[The sound of a revving engine fills the arena. Behind the floor seats, a very large ramp at a very strange angle is sitting.]

SW: Oh, no. That's why that thing is there?

Styles: I don't know. This isn't on my format.

SW: Kamikazie Ken is gonna do another one of his insane entrances?

[Tires squeal and Ken speeds out from behind the curtain. His speeding motorbike heads right to the ramp and he goes flying.]

Styles: OH MY GOD! He's flying over the fans! Uh oh. The bike isn't going straight.

NH: He's kinda going sideways now. Oh no. If he takes out some fans, that'll be such bad publicity.

SW: Paradox's sword has killed a bunch of fans in the last few weeks. But because it's on the Comedy Central, everyone thinks it's just a funny bit. If they only knew...

Styles: Ken's coming down! OH MY GOD! Ken was just CROTCHED on the STEEL POST!

SW: If he still had testicles anymore, I'm sure that'd be killing him.

NH: I heard he has balls of steel.

SW: Really?

NH: Yeah. It's among the many body parts he's had to have replaced over the years. I don't think he has one bone left in his body. All steel parts.

Styles: BOB's own Thomas 'Tug' Benson.

SW: Who?

Styles: You've never seen "Hot Shots!"

SW: The video game? I've played that. Is he one of the little golfers?

Styles: Not the video game, the movie!

SW: They made a movie out of that game? Damn, they're really desperate these days for movies. What's next, "Tomb Raider"?

NH: They've already made two of those.

SW: Already? Don't tell me they've made "Resident Evil"!

NH: 'Fraid so. Two more crappy movies.

SW: Damn you Hollywood! You suck! Just leave the comic books alone.

Styles: Sarah heads out to the floor. Lookout, here comes Christina Gaguilera down the aisle. I guess the time for introductions is over. And here comes Sir Zeno right after Christina.

NH: Sarah cracks Ken's skull into the steel post. And he falls to the floor.

SW: Ken's body is just like a plastic trash bag. One of these days, though, it's gonna rip and all his insides are gonna fall out.

NH: Nice visual, Scotty.

SW: I am the Senior Announcer for a reason.

Styles: What is that reason again?

SW: ...

Styles: Just what I thought.

NH: Zeno and Gaguilera are in the ring now.

Styles: Zeno connects with a savate kick. He waits on her to get up and delivers a brutal front kick. And he kicks her while she's down. What a man. He drags Christina up by the hair and takes her right back down with a stiff clothesline.

SW: This is a man's world, Styles. The girls can only play in it.

NH: Cover by Zeno. But Christina kicks out at one. She's tough, Scotty, don't ever count her out. She went through 20 brawlers on the last Chloroform to earn this spot.

SW: Whatever.

Styles: On the floor, Sarah with a kick to Ken's dazed skull. Ken...uh?

SW: BWAHAHAHA! Ken just hit himself! He's so out of it.

Styles: Ken did indeed just chop himself. I guess he's a tad confused. Sarah responds with a savate kick. Now Ken remembers he's not fighting himself and chops Sarah.

SW: Smart man, go for the breasts. That way, at least if you lose, you still touched her goodies. Just like I did in my match with her on SMC.

NH: I did enjoy her kicking your extra large ass after that.

SW: Jealous?

NH: Yeah, I wish I could've kicked it a little bit.

Styles: And they're heading towards us.

SW: Toss her here, Ken!

NH: In your lap?

Styles: Ken's head is driven hard into our table. Meanwhile, IN the ring, where this match is supposed to be going on, Christina whips Sir Zeno into the corner. Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. And a shoulder thrust. She whips him to the opposite corner. Big splash!

SW: Oh, I'd love to have her jump on me like that...but in a more horizontal position.

Styles: Ken with a punch, but a very weak one. And now a chop. Oh, he grabs her by the hair and smashes her face on the Flimsy Guardrail.

NH: In the ring, Christina slaps Zeno. And again. And again. Oh, a fourth one sends Zeno to the mat.

SW: Wow, he's really selling for that girl. Why, I haven't a clue.

NH: Cover. One. Easy kickout.

Styles: Ken with another punch. Sarah tries for a front kick, but Ken ducks. OH! That one connected! She launches herself from the guardrail and connects with a high kick to Ken's masked face! He falls to the floor.

NH: Zeno tries for a kick on Christina, but she catches it. She spins him around and tries for a dropkick, but he just shoves her away with ease and she crashes to the mat. Zeno runs to the ropes and tries for a clothesline, but Christina falls to her knees and hits a low blow! She drapes him over the top rope. It's the Dirrrty Kick! She just punted him hard in the crotch. The crowd is loving seeing this.

Styles: Out on the floor, Ken is whipped toward the ring. He jumps up onto the apron and hits a springboard asai moonsault! Both brawlers are down and not moving.

NH: Gaguilera pulls up Zeno. Elbow to the ribs. And a Dimension-Z leg sweep connects. Zeno is up first. Jumping kick connects to Gaguilera's nose.

Styles: OH MY GOD! Christina is wearing the Crimson Mask! She's hardcore! And a diva! She's a hardcore diva!

SW: Man, if she's on the rag, she's may pass out from excessive blood loss.

NH: Zeno with the cover. One. Two. Christina gets a shoulder up somehow.

Styles: And she's gotta compete in that four-team ladder match later tonight.

SW: Britney isn't gonna like this at all. I hope we have a chick fight backstage, and somebody is there to tape it. And one of them loses their top!

Styles: Ken and Sarah are both back up. Ken with a slam on the floor! He's heading into the ring finally.

SW: Oh no he's not. He's heading to the top rope. He wants to squish her like a bug.

Styles: Oh no! Ken dives! SOMERSAULT LEG DROP WITH A TWIST! SARAH MOVED! SARAH MOVED! OH MY GOD!

SW: Mr. Big Mistake makes another one.

NH: In the ring, Zeno tries for a front kick, but Christina blocks it and answers with a kick of her own to Zeno's ribs. Zeno is whipped to the ropes and comes back with a flying clothesline. Zeno pulls up Gaguilera, but she hits him in the stomach. Clothesline, misses! Zeno answers with a spin kick. He tries for a second spin kick, but Gaguilera answers with a leg sweep! Cover! One! Two! Kickout!

Styles: On the floor, Sarah is stomping away on Ken. She delivers an elbow to the top of the head. She jumps up onto the apron. Oh no, Sarah, don't! Wrestle him, don't try and out-extreme him! She dives with an elbow to Ken's chest! And now she's just battering him with lefts and rights. Ken with an eye rake. Now what? He's heading up top again! Shooting star....armbar? What the HELL! Generic Ref rushes to the floor to see if Sarah wants to submit!

GR: You wanna give it up? He could break your arm.

STJS: I...only...need...one!

Styles: Sarah with an eye poke to break the hold. She slides into the ring.

NH: Zeno just knocked down Gaguilera with a solid punch. He's heading up top.

SW: Even though she's a bloody, disgusting mess, it's still kinda sexy in a way. We could have some crazy, bloody monkey love together.

NH: You would be turned on by a woman's bloody face.

SW: I'm a man.

NH: You forget to clarify that with 'despicable.'

Styles: Zeno hits a bulldog from the top rope on Christina! COVER! One! Two! Three!

Michelle: Christina Gaguilera has been eliminated!

Styles: Sarah with a spinning discus punch. She heads up top now! Jumping roundhouse kick connects! She makes the cover on Ken! One! Two! Three! Ken is out of this match now too!

SW: No way! Sarah and Sir Zeno are going to fight now one on one and LATER one on one?

Michelle: Kamikazie Ken has been eliminated by my sister! Yay Sarah!

Styles: In a way, you knew it had to come down to this.

SW: That basketball tournament does give us some interesting finals. Sometimes even better than a booker that works for BOB could come up with.

Styles: Zeno goes right on the attack and whips Sarah into the corner. He's laying in on her with punches to the head and all over her body. He just tosses her easily to the middle of the ring.

NH: Sarah may not have the endurance that Zeno has. Ken is a little tougher to fight than Christina.

SW: It's gonna be so cool to have Zeno as a dual champion here. Finally, somebody I can get behind. And now that Heidi's single, I can gladly get behind her.

NH: Don't make me slap you.

SW: I heard you like it doggy—

NH: Finish that sentence and it'll be your last.

Styles: Zeno with some fierce kicks. And he's stomping the living hell out of her now.

SW: Oh no!

Styles: Sarah just caught his leg. Leg sweep. And now she's wrenching way back on his leg! That's GOTTA hurt! But Zeno is crawling to the ropes. And he makes it, but not until some taking some damage to his leg.

NH: Zeno uses the ropes to get up. And Sarah hits a Cloudydale leg sweep. Zeno rolls over and gets to his knees, but he eats a jumping kick.

Styles: Zeno getting up. Sarah tries for a kick, but Zeno ducks. He goes for a clothesline, but Sarah spins him around and around and around and around and around...and both of them fall to the mat, a bit dizzy from that merry-go-round.

NH: Generic Ref starting the count.

GR: One!

SW: You still confident in that Slayer you trained?

Styles: Of course, Scotty. She's holding her own against Sir Zeno.

GR: Two!

SW: She can hold her own against me anytime! Woohoo!

GR: Three!

Styles: They're both crawling up, using the ropes. They both charge each other! Double clothesline! They're both down again. The crowd is chanting for Sarah!

Fans: Show your tits! Show your tits!

SW: I think that's for Michelle.

Styles: Oh. Well, anyway, Sarah crawls on top of Zeno! One! Two! NO! Zeno kicks out. Both of the brawlers struggle to get up. Zeno grabs Sarah and whips her to the ropes. She comes back trying for a flying body press, but Zeno catches her. Tilt-a-whirl uranage slam! OH MY GOD! What a move!

SW: Like a fat kid in dodgeball, she's out.

Styles: He doesn't go for the cover! No, he's going for The Eternal Question. He wants to make sure there is no doubt about this outcome. He grabs her by the throat. Sarah with a desperate punch to break it up. But Zeno sends her right back down with a spin kick. He's stomping on her again. He gets on top of her and rains down right hands on her skull. She reverses! Sunset flip into a pin! One! Two! Zeno escapes.

SW: Man, this match is a lot longer than usual. What's going on?

NH: It's a three-hour show instead of a two hour show with commercials.

SW: Aw, fuck. Three hours?

NH: And you have to be here since you are the Senior Announcer and all.

SW: Damn it! I KNEW there was a catch!

Styles: SARAHCONRANA! And she's got him all rolled up! ONE! TWO! THR-NO! How did Zeno get out of that?

SW: She had her legs wrapped around his head good. I don't know. I wouldn't have gotten up. I mean, uh, SLOW COUNT. C'mon Ref!

Styles: Sarah charges for the Flying Lunge Kick! But Zeno avoids it! IMPLANT DDT! He covers Sarah! One! Two! NO! Sarah kicked out!

NH: Zeno's looking frustrated.

SW: That's what you women do to us. Do nothing but frustrate us.

Styles: Zeno pulls up Sarah by the hair, and she's moving mighty slow. I hate to admit it, but this one may indeed be over if he hits his finisher here. He tries to grab her but she ducks out of the way and gets behind him. Zeno turns around and walks right into the TRIPLE KICK!

SW: How the HELL did she do that move without wires?

Styles: Zeno is down! This may be it! Sarah falls on top of Zeno for the pin!

Crowd: ONE! TWO! THREE!

Styles: NO!

Crowd: AWWWW!

Styles: Zeno kicked out!

Crowd: We said, AWWWW!

NH: What a battle.

SW: Yeah. It must be all downhill from here.

Styles: Sarah pulls up Zeno this time. Oh no! He's got Sarah by the throat! He tosses her up and hits THE ETERNAL QUESTION!

SW: Pin her now Zeno! It's all yours!

Styles: Cover! ONE! TWO! THREE!

NH: No! Sarah kicked out!

Styles: She did? She DID! OH MY GOD! Sarah kicked out! I can't believe it! WHAT A MATCH! These two are putting EVERYTHING on the line for the Swiss Army Belt, when they still have to fight later for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS!

NH: Zeno is telling Generic Ref to count faster. But Sarah is recovering. She charges at Zeno. But he turns around and kicks her in the gut!

Styles: Oh NO! Zeno hits a SECOND Eternal Question on Sarah! The crowd is booing. He makes the cover again. ONE! TWO! THREE! And Sarah did NOT kick out this time.

SW: Wow! He just beat Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" cleanly, Styles. Looks like your girl isn't as Slayerific as she used to be.

Michelle: *Sigh* The winner of the match. And NEWWWWWW Swiss Army champion....Sir ZEEEEENO!

[Coma and Hallucination Boy are spotted in the crowd, along with a local punk/ska band. How sad are our events when there’s room for a band in the crowd? Actually, this is a GOOD turnout. Usually, there’s room for a marching band and a troupe of acrobats, too. The band starts to play "Mrs. Robinson", punk-style.]

Both: (singing)

So here's you you, Mr Hobbitson,
Fleas are eating all your fancy clothes,
Wh-wo-wo-wo.
What's that you say, Jimmy Morrison?
The Doobie Brothers taught you how to play?
A-Hey, hey hey... hey, hey, hey.

HB: (sings)

I'd like to know exactly what is eating all my ties?
I'd like to have, a hat box full of flies.
Look round, I see an alligator, and I think he's high,
Rolling on the floor, and trying to hump the phone,

Both:

So here's my shoe, Johhny Rottonport,
Steven holds his face and runs away.
A-way-hey-hey.

Hey, hey, hey.

Coma: (Sings)

Hiding in a small breadbox each Sunday afternoon.
Buddas in the pantry, eating cupcakes.
My pen's electric, can I hide it in your ear?
Most of all, I had to vomit in your fridge.

Both:

Coo-coo-KACHOO, Alex Ferguson,
United needs you more than you can know.
Wh-woh-woh-woh.
God save the peas, and the brocolli,
Both are good so long as you can spray.
Hey, hey, hey,

Hey, hey, hey.

HB:

Sitting on a sofa wearing purple pantaloons,
Watchin' Candice masturbate.
Laughed about, talked about it, then I got the blues.
'Cause I saw her ugly bruise.

Both:
Where are your pants, Joe DiMaggio?
Marylin was run down by the train.
Tr-trai-trai-train!
What's that you say, Martin Henderson?
Waterwings have carried you astray?
A-hey, hey hey... hey, hey, hey...

[There's a brief bass-led instrumental break. Yawn. Then the Retard Twins hits us with an extra verse, just make this show over-run. Fuck your silly whims of wanting to have a life outside BOB!]

Both:

So here's to you, Lance-a Hendriksen,
Ripley stole the ship and flew away.
A-hey, hey, hey.
Whats in the gourd, Robby Robinson?
Something that you just bought on E-bay?
A-hey, hey, hey,
Hey, hey hey.

Hey, hey, hey

[The song fades out as Captain Obvious leans into shot.]

CO: I'd like to point out that there a several minor inaccuracies contained in the lyrics of this song. For instance, in verse 1, line 1...

[Hey, how about I do a quick Fade Out on this guy? Any objections? Nope? Good.]

Styles: Alright. We are ready for our next match.

Michelle: The following match is for the Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Title. Introducing first...

[Cue "Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto" by Styx]

Michelle: The reigning and defending champion, from the science lab at Miskatonic University, this is Atomo The Living Robot!

Styles: Atomo has managed to hang onto that belt for a long time.

SW: The bookers forgot about it for six months, though, to be fair.

Styles: True. But still. He's had it a long time. It may be somebody else's turn to hold the gold. And Atomo doesn't even know who his mystery opponent is tonight.

Michelle: And...the challenger...

[The riff to Pantera's "Walk" plays, but instead of the real words, instead the lyrics to Monty Python's "Spam" song are put over the music.]

Michelle: From Battle Creek, New Jersey, this is Rob Van Spam!

SW: Who?

Michelle: Rob Van Spam.

SW: I heard you. I just don't know who he is.

Styles: He was on BOB is Boobs. He was in one of the battle royals on SMC...

SW: Whatever. The downhill slide is quick with this show, I see.

NH: RVS is handing out a bunch of RVS 4:30 shirts to fans in the front row.

Styles: This one should be EXTREME! But not TOO extreme, because we don't want it to end in a DQ.

NH: Don't ever give RVS your e-mail address, though. He said he wanted to talk to me, but instead I get nothing but offers for prescription drugs and penis enhancers.

Styles: RVS has the mic? The hell?

RVS: Doods! What's going on? It's everybody's favorite wrestler, Mr. Sunday Morning. Lots of RVS 4:30 signs in the crowd tonight.

NH: He just handed those out, didn't he?

RVS: And tonight, I'm gonna show everybody why I'm also now Mr. BOB-On-Demand Webcast when I extend my undefeated streak at BOB-On-Demand Webcast events. And also when I become the new Pop-Up Ads Crashed My Computer Champion.

Styles: And here we go. RVS with some quick punches to Atomo. Hoodanconrana! RVS drags Atomo toward the corner. He heads up top!

SW: Split-legged moonsault fails MISERABLY! That was pathetic! He just crotched himself on the top turnbuckle!

Styles: Atomo is back up, and RVS is caught in the tree of woe. Atomo stomps away on RVS, who falls to the mat in a heap.

NH: Atomo is heading up top, looking to put this thing away early.

Styles: THE ATOMIC BOMB CONNECTS! This one should be ALL over! One! Two! Wait a second! Alan Qaida is in the ring!

*BOOM*

Styles: He just hit Atomo with the Yellow Pages!

SW: Generic Ref is calling for the bell, but we don't have one anymore.

NH: What's that annoying whistling noise?

Styles: It's Bill Alfalfa, the manager for this deranged pair. Qaida charges at Generic Ref with the phonebook, and Generic Ref is out of there. What is the meaning of this? Qaida is stomping away on Atomo The Living Robot. He just pulled something out of his boot. It's a pen! Oh no! He's stabbing Atomo in the head with it.

SW: Hey, isn't that the pen from our motel?

NH: It looks like it. That also looks like the phone book from our motel.

SW: Cheap weapons. Now that's definitely the towel from our motel.

NH: You mean the one he's choking Atomo with?

SW: Yeah.

Styles: Now where's Al Qaida going? Don't tell me. That's the table from our motel, too?

SW: How did he sneak THAT out?

Styles: He sets up the table in the middle of the ring. Qaida puts Atomo on top of the table. And now he smashes him over the head with the coffeemaker from our motel! This is a declaration of war by Al Qaida and Rob Van Spam!

["You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)" by Dead or Alive hits. The crowd pops.]

Styles: It's Unit 5! He's coming to save his metallic brother!

[Unit 5, atop a forklift being driven by The Flunky starts driving down the aisle. But suddenly, douja runs out!]

Styles: OH MY GOD! douja just forkliftjacked The Flunky!

SW: Forkliftjacked?

Styles: Now douja is backing up!

[The forklift makes a *BEEP, BEEP, BEEP* noise. The crowd boos douja.]

NH: That was rather unexpected. I wonder what the hell douja is gonna do with Unit 5?

Styles: What I DO know is RVS and Al Qaida are on opposite sides of the ring on the top rope, ready to crush Atomo through that motel table! THEY DIVE!

*BANG*

Crowd: BOOOOOO!

Styles: Uh...

SW: The table didn't break. Sure, it tipped over. And it looks like all three guys are in pain. But I don't feel satisfied without a broken table.

Michelle: The winner of the match, as a result of a disqualification, Atomo The Living Robot!

[The crowd boos even louder.]

Styles: Yikes. What a disastrous spot that was. Let's quickly head backstage and see what douja is doing to Unit 5!

[Backstage, douja has Unit 5 over a pool of mud, that no doubt is supposed to be used for the ladies match up next.]

Styles: Ohhhh NO!

[Unit 5 is dropped in the mud!]

*BANGSQUISHY*

Styles: OH MY GOD!

NH: The pool just broke too. Mud is slowly rolling everywhere.

SW: Trey's not gonna be happy about this. And neither am I! I wanted a sexy muddy chick pillow fight!

NH: Oh no! He just popped open Unit 5's loading door! *Gasp* He just dropped his pants! Oh NO! He's gonna drop a turd in Unit 5!

[douja takes a seat on Unit 5 as if Unit 5 were a toilet instead of a washing machine. He pulls out a blunt and lights it up.]

Styles: We'd heard he was threatening to do this, but we thought it was just tough guy talk!

*INSERT VARIOUS FARTING NOISES HERE*

douja: rumble on that, BEEOTCH! unit 5, you dealin wit' UNIT 15 INCHES OF CHOCLATEY GOODNESS, you old metal ass bitch! old school lives in the bob, im takin' dis bitch back! DOUJA IS ALIVE IN 2005, SO BLAZE ANOTHA WIT' BOB'S GODFATHA! FUCK WHAT YA' HEARD, BITCHES!

Styles: I think we've seen quite enough of this—

SW: Shit?

Styles: Exactly.

Michelle: The following is a bra and panties paddle on a pole pillow fight!

SW: That works for me!

["Fuck and Run" by Liz Phair plays. The crowd cheers.]

Michelle: Introducing first. From Buttzville, New Jersey. This is Misty Waters!

SW: I'd love to fuck her and run.

NH: Scotty!

SW: What? We're on BOB-On-Demand, I can say fuck. Or shit. Or asshole. Or cunt even.

NH: Aren't you cool, you can swear.

SW: Misty is looking mighty tasty in that black bra and those black panties.

["Battle Without Honor of Humanity" plays next. The crowd boos.]

SW: Ah, Bride is in yellow bra and panties. She's nice and tall. Mmm...she may be a tall, scary bitch who wants to kill me, but damn, what a way to go! Look at that body! It's like a walking sex factory.

Styles: My sources tell me that we have indeed scrapped the mud portion of this match, due to douja's actions minutes ago.

SW: I bet the Bride is happy about that. She has no concept of being part of a team.

NH: How dare she have standards.

SW: Damn straight. Wait, were you mocking me?

NH: Yes. Women are not just sex objects. They can do anything just as good as you bastards can. Maybe even better.

SW: Yeah...right. Life is just waiting for girls to be naked, Heidi.

Styles: And we're ready to get this one underway. Generic Ref hands each woman a pillow, but they toss them aside. Uh oh. And here we go! Misty Waters grabs The Bride. Inverted atomic drop. And Misty tosses the Bride out of the ring. Good strategy by Misty, who is quickly climbing up toward the paddle!

SW: I can't wait to hear some ass smacking, Styles.

Styles: But The Bride hops up on the apron and grabs Misty's top! OH MY GOD! Misty has to stop climbing so she isn't exposed to the crowd. Bride with an eye poke. She pulls Misty down and OH MY GOD! She just send her flying into the Flimsy Guardrail! This is some hardcore women's action here!

SW: It isn't hardcore enough until the dildos come out and both girls are naked.

NH: The Bride tries to whip Misty into the guardrail, but Misty reverses! Bride tastes the steel.

Styles: Misty shoves the Bride back into the ring. She drags up the Bride.

SW: Whoa baby! I'd love to be in that bear hug!

Styles: Listen to that crowd roar. They love to see such great technical wrestling!

SW: Yeah, sure. And the fact that their mostly nude bodies are grinding together has nothing to do with the crowd popping. I know it's making me ready to pop! Woohoo!

Styles: OH MY GOD! The Bride is biting Misty on the lips.

SW: Oh BABY! Best! Match! Ever!

NH: The crowd is loving this.

Styles: Spinebuster by The Bride!

SW: Woohoo! Bugs Bunny style pin! What a camera shot!

Styles: But Misty kicks out at two.

SW: Aww. Couldn't they hold that pose for about two more minutes?

Styles: Bride drags Misty up to her feet. She tries for a slam, but Misty reverses into a headscissor takedown! And Misty's got her legs wrapped around The Bride's head! She's really got those headscissors cinched in.

SW: Oh baby! This is the greatest match ever! I love BOB.

Styles + NH: You do?

SW: Well, no, you're right, I hate BOB. But at least until this match ends, it makes the pain a little less.

Styles: The Bride pushes herself up and now reverses into a bridge pin! One. Two! No. Misty has to break the hold. Misty charges at The Bride but takes a boot to the midsection. Are you kidding me? Bride scoops up Misty for a tombstone piledriver!

NH: And the perverts in the crowd erupt again.

SW: Woohoo! What do you want from us? Misty's goods are right in the Bride's face and Misty's face is down by the Bride's goods. I give this move a 6.9!

NH: Ugh.

Styles: Bride spikes her! Oh my GOD! That could be it for Misty. But Bride isn't going for the pin. She wants that paddle to put the hurt on Misty.

SW: Paddle! Paddle! Paddle!

Styles: Bride is climbing up.

NH: Misty's trying to recover. I don't think she's gonna make it.

Styles: The Bride is there! She's just got to pull the paddle free and she can use it legally in the match.

NH: Here comes Misty.

Styles: Misty's up top! RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP FROM THE TOP ROPE! OH MY GOD! Both girls are down. Kip up by Misty! And the crowd is going wild!

SW: I wish Misty would go wild and lose her top! Woohoo!

Styles: She's looking around at the crowd.

NH: I think it's time for the Misty Mountain Stomp, guys.

Styles: It is! STOMP to Bride's head! STOMP to the Bride's arm! STOMP to the Bride's midsection! STOMP to The Bride's left leg! STOMP to the Bride's right leg! Stomp to the Bride's midsection again! STOMP to the Bride's right arm! And one last STOMP to the Bride's head! The BOB crowd is loving this!

NH: What's she waiting for?

*STOMP STOMP*

Styles: Oh my GOD!

SW: She just stomped the Bride's titties! You think they'll swell?

NH: I don't think they can swell much bigger than they already are.

SW: Damn.

Styles: Misty's climbing up the pole! She's got the paddle! The Bride is still down from the Misty Mountain Stomp. She flips the Bride over on her front!

SW: YEEEES!

Styles: Bride rolls out of the way! She's quickly up on her feet! KATA HAJIME! The Bride-mission is locked in!

NH: But Misty's still got that paddle in her hand!

Styles: Misty collapses to the mat! Will she tap?

*THUNK*

Styles: NO! She just hit The Bride in the head with the paddle to break the hold! Bride is holding her head and Misty is trying to recover from the effects of the Bride-mission. Bride charges at Misty who sidesteps.

*SMACK*

SW: WOOHOOO!

Styles: She smacks that ass!

NH: Styles?

Styles: What? Bride is holding her booty, and now she's running! She heads for the ropes! Misty caught her! Bride is stuck!

*SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!*

SW: Oh, that's the greatest sound in the world.

Styles: Misty drops the paddle on the mat and pulls the Bride back in. Kick to the midsection. She drags The Bride toward the corner! TORNADO DDT ONTO THE PADDLE! OH MY GOD! COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE! MISTY WINS in some EXTREME WARFARE!

Crowd: Mis-ty! Mis-ty! Mist-y! Mis-ty!

[Backstage. Little Good. Man, we’re letting the B-minus-roster have segments? Man, this show sucks. Hang on, there’s music starting? What sadistic prick let Little Good sing?]

LG: (Sings, Frank Sinatra-style)

And now, my match is near,
And I'll step through, that tattered curtain.
But should, this song screen here?
It's been pre-taped, so nothing's certain.

I'm tired out, hungover too.
Six hour drive, down a long highway.
But mate, what else is new,
We do things BOBBBBB's way!

[Punk guitars rip into the song as Little Good pushes through the curtain, vanishing into a blinding white light. He emerges in an empty arena, filmed in scratchy black-and-white. Commence your spitting, pierced weird, ugly people.]

LG: (Sid Vicious-style)

Wins! I've had a few,
But then again, too few to mention.
And I, just get them through,
Badly booked, inter-vennnntion.

My plans, they sailed off course,
The vict'ries hard, might get one some day.,
Can't say, that I'm surprised,
I'll do it BOBBBBBBBBs way!

Yeah, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I was beaten black and blue.
But through it all, for little pay,
I took the bumps, said "Make my Day!"
I hit the wall,
And earned fuck all,
I did it BOBBBBBBBs way!

[Cut to Little Good in an obvious mock-up of a graveyard. He's facing down Sarah, the Jobber Slayer from opposite ends of an open grave.]

LG: (Still Sid Vicious-style, and still to the tune of "My Way".)

I know, that I should go
But I follow you, like I'm posses-sed
There's a traitor here, beneath my breast
And it hurts me more, than you can guess...

StJS: (Spoken) Uh, Little Good? We're not actually doing that "Bad Love" thing anymore...

[Needle scatches on record]

LG: (Spoken) Oh, bollocks! Sorry love... I forgot we stopped doing that angle.

StJS: Nil perspiration!

[She walks away in slow-mo, her footsteps echoing loudly. In fact, due to a really badly-placed sound effect, she sounds more like she's walking on a wooden floor than grass. The camera zooms slowly in on Little Goods face as her footsteps fade.]

LG: (Sings softly)
Why won't you let me
rest
in
peace...?

[Slam cut to Little Good shoving aside the door on the upper floor of the empty arena. The music kicks back into life. Geez. Has the BigBOSS been watching MTV again?]

I've loved! I've laughed and cried!
I wrestled Death, I prob'ly died!
And now, I'm in this ring,
And look at all, the awful bruis-ing!

She broke my knee, she kneed my sack,
She ripped a quad, up in my thighhh, hey!
But if, she'd take me back,
I'd do her MYYYYYYY WAYYYYY!

[Scotty Whatbody can be seen in the arena, playing one-finger, one-string bass. And he's dressed in more leather than a lesbain biker at the Gay Pride Parade in a desperate attempt to look cool. Some hope.]

SW: Yeah, she's the girl, I'd like to do.
I'd call her match, for free, it's true.
And when she's done, sweat-y and spent,
My boxer shorts, are a pup tent!

So, Little Good, say "What the Hey?"
Invite that girl, around to playyyy-ay.
She'll float your boat, go for the throat,
And do her YOOOOUUURRRR WAYYYY!

LG: (Sid Vicious-style)

For what is a man, what has he got?
If he can't shag, a chick who's hot.
I'll take my chance, and cop a feel,
And maybe get, that girl to kneel!

LG: (Big finish, Sinatra-style.)

I'll suffer all, those cheap-ass shows,
As BOB goes down, those stinking high-ways!
My record won't, be all that blows,
She'll do it MYYYYYY WAYYYYYYY!

[Whoa. Fade out. We return to the ring.]

NH: Ok, the reasons behind this next match are a little confusing. Why are these guys feuding? Why has it been booked in the first place?

SW: Filler?

NH: I guess.

Michelle: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a British Deathmatch! Stereotypical items related to the UK are all legal and it will only end by pin fall or if one of them chickens out and taps or something.

Styles: Oh my God, this isn’t on my schedule!

NH: What are you talking about? It’s right there!

Styles: Oh yeah.

[The Peter Gunn Theme plays as none other than Little Good walks out in a Manchester United t-shirt whilst carrying a ‘Death to Malcolm Glazer’ sign.]

Michelle: Introducing first, from Cloudydale, Connecticut. Weighing in at 180 lbs… Little Good!

SW: Little Good sure loves that silly little soccer thing.

LG: It’s called football you bleedin' Yankee wanker!

SW: If I called soccer football what the hell would I call football?

LG: Guys in helmets tackling each other over and over?

SW: You limeys don’t have a clue.

[‘Enter Kevin’ by Vietallica plays as a green haired teen walks out with a gasoline can in hand.]

Michelle: And his opponent, from the great state of Parts Unknown … Kevin the Pyromaniac!

Styles: Where is his manager Bruce the Kleptomaniac?

NH: He’s stealing fans’ wallets, if they’ve settled for BOB though they probably don’t have much.

[Kevin climbs into the ring and scans the assorted stereotypical items associated with England that are scattered around the ring to act as weapons.]

Kevin: BEER!!!

[Kevin grabs the mug from the mat and takes a sip before spitting it back out.]

Kevin: Ugh, it’s warm.

LG: Hey, you bloody wanker, you got beer all over me!

KtP: You had beer all over you before you even got in the ring.

LG: Bollocks. I’m still gunna kick yer arse!

Styles: Little Good just smashed a commemorative royal wedding teacup over Kevin’s head!

SW: This match is going to be dumb, I can tell already.

NH: Little Good drops an elbow and makes a cover attempt. One, two, thre… Kevin gets his shoulder up just in time.

Styles: Little Good lifts him back to his feet and starts punching him in the face. Kevin is driven to the edge of the ring before being clotheslined over the ropes to the outside. Little Good follows and looks under the ring.

LG: Bloody hell, no chairs, no tables… and where’ve all the bloody stop signs gone?

[The sounds of metal clanging can be heard in the background.]

Styles: Little Good gives up and rolls Kevin back into the ring. He follows and quickly snatches up a cricket bat. He hits it on the canvas a few times before swinging it right for Kevin’s face… OH MY GYOD!!! Little Good is reeling on the mat holding his face after Kevin just hit a FIREBALL out of nowhere!

SW: It missed by a long shot but at least Little Good’s selling it, I guess.

NH: Kevin pushes Little Good into the corner, takes the cricket bat and pours gasoline onto it.

Kevin: PYROM…

SW: Big boot knocks Kevin flat on his ass, he managed to stop that retard before he did anything else stupid. Little Good pulls him up by his green hair before hitting a sloppy side slam. One, two, kick out. Yeah, great.

NH: Little Good drops an elbow and gets back up to hit another. One, two, Kevin still kicks out.

Styles: Little Good takes a plate of cold kebab meat and chips, or are they fries? He puts it over Kevin’s face and oh my god drops a leg down onto it. That has to hurt.

LG: Bugger, I got ketchup on my trousers.

SW: Hahahaha! That’s great.

Styles: What the hell are trousers?

NH: As Little Good cleans himself up Kevin tackles and starts hitting him with incredibly weak looking punches.

SW: Wow, those are shitty.

LG: Bloody hell, a kitten gently patting it’s paw against my face would hurt more than this.

Kevin: You son of a bitch.

Styles: Kevin dunks his hand in that room temperature beverage and steals Little Good’s lighter.

Bruce: Hey, that’s my gimmick!

Styles: Oh my God his hand is on fire… flaming punches straight to Little Good’s face!

SW: Holy shit, Little Good’s hair is on fire. Kevin grabs that mug and drops the rest of that beer on Little Good’s head! Now this is more like it.

NH: Little Good is flailing about like a fish out of water and he’s managed to put his hair out. Kevin goes in with a small toy red double decker bus wrapped in barbed wire and hits Little Good across the face with it.

Styles: He’s juicing! He’s bleeding seven ways from Sunday! He’s wearing the crimson mask!

NH: Kevin makes a cover. One, two, Little Good kicks out. Kevin climbs one of the turnbuckles and starts taunting the crowd with little reaction.

LG: Wanker.

Styles: Little Good kicks a soccer ball at Kevin, knocking him face first off the turnbuckle to the floor outside!

NH: Little Good peels that barbed wire off of that toy bus and wraps it around that empty mug. He climbs up to the same turnbuckle Kevin was just on...

Styles: PLANCHA!!!

SW: My ears! Jesus, I’m deaf!

Styles: Never mind that Scotty, there’s a Brawler out there bleeding seven days till Sunday, with barbed wire tearing his flesh from his face and there’s glass everywhere!

SW: I see your lips moving but I can’t hear you.

Styles: I wish I could say the same about you.

SW: You son of a bitch!

NH: Little Good rolls Kevin back into the ring. Please don’t get overexcited when you see blood on their faces again Styles.

Styles: That’s not fair.

[Little Good releases a bulldog that was tied to a turnbuckle. He takes the leash and ties the dog to a steel chair and proceeds to hit Kevin with it.]

Styles: OH MY GYOD!!

NH: That poor dog.

SW: Uh, I don’t think it’s a real dog, you can see the stuffing coming out.

Styles: Did you just say his intestines are showing!?

SW: Well, n…

Styles: EXTREME!

NH: I knew he was going to say that.

Styles: You did not. Little Good goes to hit Kevin with the chair that has a dog tied to it but gets a mug of beer thrown in his eyes.

NH: Kevin grabs his gasoline can and pours it over Little Good. He takes a match and lights it.

Styles: FLAMING SPEAR out of nowhere takes Kevin down. One, two, threKickout!!

NH: And now that ugly guy Bruce is wandering towards the ring with a gasoline can, he reaches through the ropes and pours it onto the two Brawlers, setting both alight.

SW: Barbecue Jobbers.

NH: Little Good rolls around in pain, trying to put himself out whereas Kevin simply climbs to the second rope turnbuckle, pours more gasoline on his arm and does an elbow drop.

Styles: That’s his move. One, two, three!

SW: Hahaha, now that stupid Bruce the klepto guy is stealing steel chairs.

Kevin: WTF!? Give me back those chairs.

Bruce: No!

Kevin: I want to have some already dunked in fuel before my matches.

Bruce: They’re mine!

Kevin: You son of a bitch!

Styles: Fireball to Bruce the Kleptomaniac! OH MY GOD and he’s making away with all those chairs, leaving Bruce’s burnt corpse behind.

Click Here For Part 2


©2005 BOB Wrestling. Oh, it ain't ova muthaphuckas...

 

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