Click Here For Part 1
[In Trey Vincent's locker room, he was surrounded by Sarah "The Jobber Slayer," Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano.]
TV: OK. I was the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. I was a Not Good Enough to Fight Alone Tag Team Champion. I was the hardcore champion a couple of times. I had those OTHER tag belts before I got bored of them and retired them. I was the Wimbledon champion!
IM: ¡NinguÌn usted no era!
TV: Well, I could've been if my father had thrown tennis balls at me instead of our pet dog. Have they made doggis a sport yet?
TV: Damn. I was really good at that, too. Good old Willis. That damn dog would always be barking up a storm, and I'd be like, "Watchoo barkin' about, Willis?"
Sarah: You used to talk like a midget?
TV: Of course, my other dog Potsie was even worse. Vicious little bastard. But I digest…the four of us are known as the Fall of Man, right?
TV: Well, tonight, another vicious little bastard I know sure isn't gonna have a happy day. And that's Kevin the Pyromaniac.
Sarah: Stretch for material, much?
TV: All the time. But Kevin isn't even a man. He's just a boy. And I'm gonna go kick that kid's ass! And if by any chance I get into trouble, I want tons of help and interference. Get it?
IM: Usted es tal perdedor.
TV: I knew I could count on you. All I need is the love of my (Trey extends his hands toward Sarah) beautiful…beautiful...
[Sarah blushes and she smiles shyly. Trey's hands go right past her face.]
[Trey begins twirling his skull cane.]
TV: C'mon, Skully. Pyromaniacs to see. Skulls to crack!
Styles: Welcome back everyone. As you can see, the mat has been replaced with asphalt!
SW: Riiiight. It looks like an old gray sheet with a yellow line painted down the middle. Our fans aren't retards. Well, most of them anyway.
Styles: Fine. The asphalt may be fake, but all this stuff sure isn't. As you can see, the floor around the ring has been turned into sidewalks. We've got trash barrels, cones, a mailbox, real guardrails? Wow. Look, a burger stand!
SW: And some cow-hugger protesting the burger stand.
[Close up of the protester holding a "Beef Is Murder!" sign.]
SW: Who are all these people wandering around the ring?
Styles: Random pedestrians.
Hooker: Hey, big boy. You lookin' for a good time?
SW: Hell yeah I am! You so horny?
Hooker: Do I look Vietnamese?
SW: No, you look like you got run over by a burning car filled with acid. But I really need to get laid. Why can't we get some high-class hos?
Styles: We couldn't afford Ashley Massaro, apparently.
SW: I said HIGH CLASS, Styles. Yich! Well, this is something. All we need is to see some guy taking a shit on the sidewalk. Don't get any ideas, Styles!
["Not All Who Wander are Lost" by DevilDriver hits, and the crowd begins to boo.]
KF: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is a street fight. Introducing first, from Sin City, by way of Minneapolis, Minnesota. He weighs in at 265 pounds, and is BOB's Vice President in Charge of Everything, Trey Vincent!
[Trey Vincent walks down the aisle, dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt.]
Styles: Different attire for the UnderBOSS. Perhaps he's afraid of getting burnt by Kevin?
SW: Wouldn't you be? You'd probably be out there in firefighter's gear so you'd be flame retarded.
Styles: It's flame retardant, Scotty.
SW: Not in your case, it wouldn't be.
Styles: Looks like Trey's having a tough time getting through this throng of pedestrians.
SW: Get those elitist, latte drinking, sushi eating, hybrid driving, cell phone wearing, Facebook douchebags out of the way! Important person coming through.
Styles: And Trey finally gets into the ring.
["Enter Kevin" by Vietallica hits. The crowd greets Kevin with cheers? Man, I need to be back in Sin City where they boo these lame ass faces…]
KF: And his opponent. He hails from Stinking Butt, Arkansas and weighs
83 pounds, Kevin the Pyromaniac.
Styles: Wow, Kevin's bulked up for this match.
SW: Yeah, a whole pound. Somebody better check is urine for steroids.
Styles: I'm sure Kay also meant to say that Kevin is from Stinking Bay.
SW: Stinking butt is probably accurate for him.
[Kevin steps out wearing his usual attire of ripped jeans and a Vietallica T-shirt, but without any burning canes or any weapons. However, his hands are heavily taped.]
Styles: And Kevin seems a bit stumped as to how to get past the pedestrians.
SW: Well, when you weigh more than your IQ, no shocker there.
Styles: Kevin seems to be checking on prices with the hooker. Is he asking her to get on her knees? Cut the cameras away! This isn't rated X!
SW: Think she spits or swallows *ahem* lighter fluid?
Styles: I don't want to find out, Scotty. Hold on. Kevin just backed up. What the? He just used her as a springboard!
Styles: Oh my god!
SW: BWAHAHAHA! He just smashed his face on the apron! Oh, can we get a billion replays of that one in a row? Please?
Styles: He tried to jump over the pedestrians, but he ended up smashing his face hard. Kevin trying to pull himself up. He may have knocked himself out and this match hasn't even started yet.
SW: And just like in real life, everyone is ignoring a human being in severe pain as they walk by on their cell phones. Awesome.
Styles: Trey pulling Kevin into the ring, and this one is underway. Trey just nailed him with a stiff clothesline. Ooooh! But Kevin just landed a big uppercut to Vincent with that heavily taped fist. Kevin unloading on Trey, on the man who shattered his dreams with betrayal.
SW: Shocking. I've NEVER seen a tag team fall apart as a result of betrayal by the cockier member of the team. This team was bound to go up in smoke one way or another.
Styles: Oh no! Trey's got Kevin up for a gorilla press slam! No! No! NO!
[Kevin gets tossed onto the pedestrians walking around the ring.]
Pedestrian 1: My falafel!
Pedestrian 2: My iPhone!
SW: Oh, free iPhone!
Styles: I think somebody already beat you to it. Yes, it's take home a stolen iPhone night here in BOB. And, ironically, this street fight is moving to the "sidewalk." Trey grabs Kevin and rams his head into the burger stand.
TV: Can I get a, hmm…Rectum Rocket with cheese?
Burger Guy: You want a drink with that?
TV: What have you got?
BG: Soda au gratin. Tonsil varnish. Sushi slurpee. Kahlua root beer. Wal-Mart wine.
TV: Nah, I don't want Chinese wine. I'll have a Kahlua root beer.
BG: Cheers. Six bucks.
[Trey hands him a credit card. The guy runs the card as Trey throws an orange cone of doom at Kevin's head, knocking him back down. He hands Trey a slip, which he signs.]
BG: Thank you Mr. Pyromaniac.
Styles: Son of a bitch! He's still stealing Kevin's identity for credit cards?
BG: Hey! Give that back!
SW: Kevin's smashing Trey with a bottle of ketchup.
Styles: Trey's wearing the crimson mask. Er, ketchup mask after that brutal assault. Oh, but Trey counters with a root beer to the eyes.
Styles: And a plastic cup to the skull. And Trey smashes the bloody, or possibly ketchupy head of Kevin, once again into the side of the burger stand. Now Trey's raking Kevin's forehead with the side of his hamburger! This is brutal.
SW: Now Trey's got a spork! Oh man, he's jamming that spork into Kevin's bloody head! Sweet! Kevin's definitely bleeding now. Now way ketchup drips that fast.
Styles: Now what's Trey doing?
SW: Oh man, special delivery coming up.
Styles: That's a mailbox!
Styles: OH MY GOD! He just dropped a mail box on Kevin's skull!
SW: Hey, that protester just speared the burger guy! Guess he finally learned that peaceful protests are a waste of time.
Styles: Trey tosses Kevin back into the ring. Now Trey's got a bicycle and tosses it over the top rope. And that bicycle is being set up in the corner. Trey looking around for something. Now he's going outside to get an orange cone. And Trey now unleashing orange pain on Kevin's already bloody head. Kevin trying to avoid getting that cone jammed into his eye. Where are you going, Scotty?
Styles: Oh MAN! Trey just whipped Kevin into the propped up bicycle in the corner!
SW: Check this out, Styles. It's Tickle Me Trey Vincent. I just grabbed this from the garbage. I wonder what things Tickle Me Trey says.
TMTV: Owowow it burns when I pee!
Styles: Oh, lovely. Trey charges, but Kevin monkey flips the bicycle right at Trey! Kevin needs to make a comeback right here if he wants a shot at defeating the VP.
TMTV: Watch Brawlers On a Budget or al-Qaida will kidnap your parents!
Styles: Spinebuster by Vincent. Fujiwara armbar now locked in. Vincent looking to make Kevin submit here. But Kevin is screaming at Generic Ref not to ring the bell.
TMTV: Oh look, it's Trey Vincent's ex-wife. Kids, get a pre-nup.
Styles: Will you stop playing it.
TMTV: Push my belly again and I'll sue you for sexual harassment!
Styles: Right. Shocking Conclusion coming up? No! Kevin blocks it. Go 2 Hell! No! Vincent blocks. Oh, and Kevin just knocked Trey flat on his back with a punch.
SW: Hey, that's a choke! Get Kevin off!
[The bell sounds.]
Styles: Generic Ref is calling for the DQ!
[Kevin throws Trey to the mat.]
Kevin: WHAT? There's no DQ in a street fight!
Generic Ref: There isn't?
Generic Ref: Fine, then I'm restarting this match!
TMTV: Tickle my crotch! Unless you have a penis, because even stuffed Trey doesn't swing that way.
Styles: Worst. Toy. Ever. Kevin quickly out to the floor. He's got a stop sign. Kevin drops the stop sign on top of Trey and is heading up top. Moonsault! Trey got out of the way, but Kevin landed on the stop sign. And Trey slams him on the stop sign for good measure.
TMTV: Snuffleupagus fucks my shit up!
Styles: Trey now locking Kevin into a camel clutch. And he's got a cell phone. Oh no! He's jamming the antenna into Kevin's head!
[The bell rings.]
[Trey drops the hold and raises his arms in victory. Kevin wipes blood out of his face and stares at Generic Ref. Kevin rolls out of the ring and grabs the bell and rings it himself. Then he grabs the microphone from Kay.
Kevin: This match isn't over! I may have a brain tumor from the cell phone, but I ain't dead yet!
[The crowd pops!]
SW: Yay, brain cancer! What weird fans.
TV: Are you going to let him restart this match?
Generic Ref: The bell rang. It's out of my hands now.
[Kevin charges into the ring and smashes Trey with the ring bell.]
Styles: Oh, and Trey just smashed that cell phone into Kevin's nose! That could've broken it.
SW: He can just set it on fire to cauterize it.
Styles: Blood is pouring down Kevin's head, and now out of his nose. This match is BRUTAL! Trey looking for Coming Down! Kevin slips free though! Low blow by Kevin! Now Kevin drops a knee on Trey's crotch! Kevin targeting the groinal area of Vincent here, Scotty.
SW: He may have to give up. You know how much Trey treasures his genitals.
TMTV: I treasure my genitals above all else!
SW: See? Kevin knew that because he used to own this doll.
Styles: That's just disturbing...TESTICULAR CLAW!
SW: Speaking of disturbing…
Styles: NO! Testicular BITE! OH MY GOD!
SW: Kevin the Gayromaniac?
Styles: Trey may pass out from the pain.
SW: I may pass out from the fagginess.
Styles: Kevin's on the hunt for another weapon. He's got the prostitute! He drags her into the ring and…well, he just made her sit on Trey's face.
SW: He's trying to make Trey get a boner! Oh no!
SW: Oh, poor, Trey! His injured crotch is getting more injured by the second.
Styles: COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE-NO! Trey kicks off both Kevin and the hooker. Trey's got Kevin and the hooker. Meeting of the minds.
SW: Does that count as giving Kevin head? Kevin may owe her some money for that one.
[Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano hit the ring and hold Kevin up for Trey.]
Styles: Oh, come on! Let Kevin and Trey settle this one on one! Trey just grabbed a trash barrel full of Trey's merchandise.
Styles: Right to Kevin's bloody skull! Enough already! This is beyond extreme at this point.
SW: Look, that guy's filming this on their cell phone.
Pedestrian 3: Oh, man, I'm totally gonna upload this on YouTube.
TV: What? Where? Ken, Mano, get him! No bootleg video!
[Ken and Mano charge after the guy with the cell phone video camera.]
Styles: Another trash barrel to Kevin's head.
[The bell rings.]
Generic Ref: That's it, really this time! Kevin's in no condition to keep getting beat up by Trey.
[Trey calls for the microphone.]
TV: Let this be a lesson to you, Kevin. You can never kill sports entertainment! It will live forever!
[The crowd boos.]
Styles: Well fans, Generic Ref has stopped this one, so Trey, Ken and Mano are heading out of here. But I think this issue is far from over.
Kevin: Trey! WRESTLING!
SW: Oh, man. Kevin just made this issue personal. He used the w-word around Trey!
Styles: And Trey charges back to the ring.
TV: Restart the match!
[The bell rings. Again.]
Styles: He hates the word "wrestling." But Ken and Mano are coming in too. Kevin's fighting all three off as best as he can, but he's exhausted and a bloody, bruised mess. Mano gets backdropped on the bicycle! Kevin tosses Ken over the top rope into some pedestrians! It's just Trey and Kevin now. Both men blasting away on each other with rights. Kevin tosses Trey to the floor. Oh no! They're heading toward that glass table! Kevin yanks out the umbrella and nails Trey over the head with it.
SW: Get that idiot of the glass table before he hurts Trey!
Styles: Kevin trying to get Trey up on the table! Trey with a low blow. Oh no! Trey's got Kevin! GLASSCEILINGTHROUGHTHEGLASSTABLE! OHMYGOD!
Kevin: Ow! My eye! I'm not supposed to get glass in it!
SW: Nobody's supposed to get glass in their eye. Unless you lose your eye and need a glass eye. But that's more putting a glass eye in a socket. Wouldn't that be ironic if Kevin lost his eye to glass, only to need to put a glass eye in his head? Every day he'd be reminded of how he lost his eye due to glass and now has a glass eye.
Styles: Are you high?
Styles: I think having to put in a glass eye would remind him he doesn't have a freaking eye regardless of how he lost it!
SW: Generic Ref's calling for the bell AGAIN?
Styles: It stinks! Kevin may be bleeding from various parts of his body, but damnit, he didn't want to lose this match like this!
SW: What, he would've rather been pinned?
SW: You don't sound sure.
Styles: This one is over. Let's get the official word.
KF: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, Trey Vincent! Final answer?
GR: Final answer!
KF: Trey Vincent everybody!
[The crowd boos.]
Styles: Kevin may have lost this match, but I'm not so sure if this war is over yet.
SW: What, are you expecting him to pull an Iraq and keep fighting Trey even though he doesn't have a shot in hell of him achieving victory?
Styles: Um, not when you say it like that!
Styles: Well fans, up next, it's Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" against Death. The winner faces the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS at our next BOB-On-Demand event. Let's take a look at this long rivalry.
[Insert video package of the Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" and Death feud here. Back to the arena.]
Styles: Scotty, what were the results of the text vote?
SW: Let's see. Zero percent think Sarah's going to win, and…zero percent think Death will be the number one contender?
Styles: Oh, right, we forgot to mention the text vote at the start of the show.
SW: Dumbass. No wonder Trey wants to replace you!
Styles: My bad.
["Metalstorm/Face the Slayer" by Slayer hits. The crowd boos as Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" steps out, smiling and waving. Then pouting for the bad reaction.]
SW: How can these people boo someone who is willing to have a three way with an Asian chick? Yay, Sarah!
KF: The following contest if the number one contenders match. Introducing first, originally from Cloudydale, Connecticut, and now from Chinatown. This is Sarah "The Jobber Slayer"!
Styles: As everyone saw in that video package, Sarah has had the upper hand for the most part against Death, one of the few in BOB who can say that.
SW: I was choking, Styles. Why do you assume I was saying something? *coughcough*stupidfoureyedfucker*coughcough*
["Killed by Death" by Motorhead hits. The crowd erupts in cheers.]
SW: I never thought I'd see the day that Death was cheered. Only in THIS fed would you cheer the guy who's gonna kill you some day.
KF: And his opponent. From the Netherworld. This, is, DEATH!
Sarah: *Ahem* HIS opponent?
KF: Oh man. I'm worse than a simulator…And HER opponent, etcetera etcetera.]
[Kay leaves the ring as Death climbs over the top rope and raises his bony hands in the air to a pretty good pop.]
Styles: The winner of this one will face either Steve Studnuts, The Great, Mr. Paradox or Dr. Silaconne M. Plants next month.
SW: Right. Except there's no shot in hell that Paradox is winning tonight. And I'm sure SMP will choke again. So that narrows it down quite a bit.
Styles: And here we go. Sarah is unloading on Death right of the bat. Sarah whips Death, but Death responds with a clothesline that nearly takes Sarah out of her stylish yet affordable boots! Sarah back up, but Death with a clothesline and Sarah's on the floor! But Death is following right out after her.
SW: I really hope Death kills Sarah tonight. I've been practicing my resuscitation techniques.
Styles: Sarah avoids Death and is back inside. She catches Death and is putting the boots to him.
SW: Vintage Death! No-selling like the pro he is!
Styles: Sarah is tossed to the corner. Knee lift! Knee lift! Another knee lift! Crotch chop! And another knee lift! And Death with a hard bony punch there. Sarah punching back. But Death takes her down with a foot to the face! Now Death starting to work on the arm.
Crowd: WILL FERRELL SUCKS!
SW: Wow, that phrase caught on quickly. And everyone says BOB fans are idiots.
Styles: Don't YOU say our fans are idiots?
SW: Usually they are. But at least they know Ferrell is annoying as an explosive shit.
Styles: Sarah just pulled Death off the top rope before he could unleash an offensive move. Death rolls through, and Sarah gets thrown! Death unloading with rights on Sarah. Sarah's staggered. Death charges! Running knee lift to the corner. Oh, but Sarah with an overhead split kick.
SW: Humina humina humina! Man, is she flexible. That was something straight out of the "Matrix." Seth Harker should sue for gimmick infringement.
Styles: SARAHCONRANA! And Death tumbles out to the floor.
Generic Ref: One! Two! Three! Uh…
Generic Ref: Four!
Styles: Death is back up. Sarah sees it. Somersault SARAHCONRANA to the floor! OHMYGOD!
SW: Man, how I wish I was Death's skull. I seriously need to get booked against Sarah.
Styles: Death rammed spine-first into the ring post! What a bone rattler that was. Sarah's got Death HOT SHOT on the Flimsy Guardrail®! Oh man!
SW: Why doesn't Death just poke her already and get this over with?
Styles: We've still got about 30 minutes of air time to fill. Sarah dragging up Death and shoves him back in the ring. I guess she wants to pin Death right in the middle here at UnFOURgiven. Just like she did back at Totally Dead when she was dressed up at Soem Guy In A Mask. Springboard dropkick takes down Death. She pulls Death back up and lifts his hand. Oooh, repeated kicks to the rib cage.
SW: Good thing he doesn't have to breathe, or he'd be in some serious trouble here.
Styles: Well, those kicks are gonna hurt his bones. Sarah bends over Death with a jumping back kick to the ribs. Sarah's quickly up top. Somersault ax kick!
SW: Think we'll see a bananaroonie, sucka?
Styles: I sincerely hope not. And please never say "sucka" again. Death grabs Sarah by the hair! Skull butt! Another! And another! And another!
Crowd: Five! Six! She picks up Sarah, reversal into a crucifix pin! One! Two! No! Death kicked out.
Styles: The winner of this one will become number one contender for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. OHMYGOD! Spinning inferno kick by Sarah takes Death down once again! Beautiful standing backflip kick.
SW: How did you teach her that one? You don't have an athletic bone in your body.
Styles: Thankfully I have an incredibly large videotape collection. Sarah heading to the top rope now, but Death is up! Goodbye! Sarah just crashed to the floor there! What is Death doing. Are you kidding me?
SW: Flying Death dive. Death must be desperate as hell to beat Sarah for the first time here. The punches, kicks, sideslam and finisher formula just won't get it done against her.
Styles: Death setting up Sarah on the apron now. There's a kick. Death's up on the apron and…drops the leg! Back inside. Cover! One, two, and no! Sarah kicks out. Death waiting on Sarah to get up. Kick! Netherworld Powerbomb coming up? No! Sarah slips free. Cartwheel kick by Sarah! One! Two! And no! Back and forth action here, Scotty.
SW: Yeah. My eyes are definitely traveling between her jugs and her ass.
Styles: Shocker there. Sarah rolling Death outside the ring now. Sarah quickly on the attack with right and left kicks. And that one just sent Death back first onto the Flimsy Guardrail®! Death has been bent in half! Holy crap!
SW: Holy crap is right. Talk about a vertebraeker.
Styles: Sarah trying to drag Death back to the ring. Here we go! One! Two! No! Death gets the shoulder up. Sarah once again dragging Death up and sets him up in the corner. Look out! Handspring double mule kick! Oh man! And Death just clotheslined the back of her head! One! Two! Sarah kips out of the pin attempt? Don't think I've seen that one before. And Sarah's stomping on Death again.
SW: And I thought Death had a limited move set. All her moves are kick variations. We should call her the Kicky Punchy Girl and team her up with Snapmare Kid.
Styles: This one is breaking down into a slugfest. Death with a punch.
Styles: Sarah responds.
[Death with a punch.]
[Sarah with a punch.]
SW: Interesting crowd reaction as usual here…
Styles: Kneelift by Death. Another. Rights! Sarah responds with punches of her own! They are just unloading on each other.
[Meanwhile, the crowd is responding with rapidfire "boobs"/"die" chants with every punch.]
Styles: Death is the best pure killer in BOB history!
SW: Too bad he didn't draw a dime as BOB champion.
Styles: Sarah to the corner. Clothesline! And another! Sarah off the ropes. Sarah avoids a big foot by Death and takes out Death with a dropkick to his plant foot! COVER! ONE! TWO! NO! Sarah to the middle rope. Death trying to hit the Touch of Death, but Sarah's got him by the sleeve of his cloak. Sarah shoves his hand away. But he spins back around and tries to poke her! She stops him again. SARAHCONRANA from the top! One! Two! NO!
SW: We want tits! We want tits!
Styles: Would you please? We've got a great match going here.
SW: Nothing that couldn't be better with some areolas.
Styles: Sarah charges for the triple kick, but gets nothing but air! TOUCH OF DEATH! ONE! TWO! NO? Sarah kicked out?
SW: Sarah no-selling dying? Wow. She's out no-selling Death! And worse yet, I didn't get the chance to revive her!
Styles: Death dragging up Sarah by the arm.
Crowd: Will Ferrell sucks!
Styles: Sarah with a leg sweep kick just crotched Death on the top rope!
SW: He doesn't have a crotch, Styles. That was more like getting pelviced.
Styles: Pelviced? Whatever. Sarah with a spin punch. OH MY GOD! What a vertical leap by Sarah! SARAHCONRANA!
SW: Can we call that move the vertical smile?
Styles: No we cannot! COVER! ONE! TWO! Death kicked out! Sarah pounding away on Death here, but those blows seem to be hurting her fists more than Death's skull. Hey! Get your hand out of there!
SW: Camel toe clutch by Death! BWAHAHAHA!
Styles: Netherworld Powerbomb coming up! No! Sarah once again evades and there's a neckbreaker! One! Two! NO! Death will not die!
SW: I don't think Death can die, Styles. But Death doesn't want to job.
Styles: Does Death ever? Sarah jumps on Death's back now and is just pounding away. Death's got Sarah by the hair. Oh no! NETHERWORLD POWERBOMB! What a counter! ONE! TWO! NO! Sarah kicked out! Unbelievable!
SW: Does Death even have any moves left?
Styles: He's hit both his normal finishers. We're going to have to see if Death has anything left to finish off Sarah here and get another shot at the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS.
SW: Apparently he doesn't. He's going for another Netherworld Powerbomb.
Styles: Sarah gets free. TRIPLE KICK CONNECTS! ONE! TWO! DEATH KICKED OUT!
SW: Does anybody have any earplugs? Seriously. My ears are ringing from Styles right now.
Styles: What a match here at UnFOURgiven. Sarah and Death putting everything on the line for a shot at the OWTTM. Death reverses a whip and Sarah runs into Death's foot once again.
Death: Will motherfucking Ferrell, motherfucking sucks!
SW: Oh man, Death's pissed. He just entered Samuel L. Jackson mode, biznotch!
Styles: Death climbs the ropes. Clubbing blow on Sarah! Sarah trying to pull herself up. And she's using Generic Ref's belt.
SW: Oh baby. I'd love to have her face right there in front of me!
Styles: Death charges! Sarah ducks! Generic Ref doesn't! Oh man! Generic Ref is down and hurt! Sarah grabs Death by his hood and falls to the mat. OVERHEAD KICK sends Death down! But Generic Ref is down so she can't make the cover. Death just poked Sarah's leg! And she collapses in pain.
SW: Sarah! I'm an unlicensed massage therapist. Call me! Hey! Is that Jerri Li?
Styles: Jerri Li's in the ring? Why?
SW: It's BOB. Does it ever make sense?
Styles: She looks like she's about to hit Death with her newly won T&A XX Division Title belt! Hello! Death just got smashed with that title!
[The bell rings.]
SW: Generic Ref saw it? Oh, COME ON!
Styles: Don't let it end like this! Jerri Li just cost Sarah the win here. But why?
SW: Maybe Jerri's feeling suicidal. Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with Sarah.
Styles: Well, it's about to once Sarah realizes that she just lost.
KF: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner as a result of a disqualification, Death!
Styles: Sarah just kicked Jerri in the face. CAT FIGHT! CAT FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!
Styles: What an unbelievable turn of events.
SW: I think you meant to say screw job.
Styles: Well, that too. Sarah's now brawling with Jerri up the aisle. Death doesn't know what to make of any of this. And neither do I. Well, fans, up next. It's the finals of the Grand Slam tournament. Let's send it back to Mike Monroe, who is with the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, Steve Studnuts.
[We cut backstage, to Steve Studnuts, who appears to be somewhat amused by a piece of paper he's holding.]
Mike Monroe: Steve Studnuts, you are just moments away from the finals of the Grand Slam tournament. What is going through your mind as you try to become a Grand Slam champion tonight at UnFOURgiven.
Studs: I should be focused on those other jerkweeds, but to be honest Fuckroe, this application is far scarier than either of those three jerkweeds. Check this shit out:
Weight: 227 Ibs.
Hometown: Houston, Texas
Theme Music: "Voices" by Rev Theory
Costume: blue Jeff Hardy arm bands, a white tanktop, Jeff Hardy pants, Jeff Hardy boots,****
Studs: Well goddamn, son... it's Jeff Hardy! Wait a minute...
Studs: What the FUCK was wrong with Jeff Hardy's tattoos?
****black silky, pretty hair,****
Studs: OK, what the hell is PRETTY hair? Bwahahaha!
****green glow in the dark body paint & face paint****
Studs: Umm, yeah, it's Jeff Hardy. With UT's tats. Guh.
****Finshing Maneuver: The Psycho Bomb(torture rack powerbomb)****
Studs: Book this clown against G.I. Slow in his first match and just SEE if he can use this finisher! BWAAA HAA HAAA!
****Wrestling Style: Technical, High-Flyer****
Studs: Except for the purely POWERFUL finisher, that is.
****Previous Convictions: 2 years in the insane asylum at age 18****
Studs: Is being insane a felony? I didn't know you could be convicted of being crazy. Shows what <i>I</i> know, right?
****History and Backstory: PJ Kingz****
Studs: *Pffft* King of pajamas?
****was born on March 30, 1990 in Richmond, VA. At age 13, he got into a big fight with his parents.****
Studs: OOOOoooooooOOOOOooooOOOOh. Scary!
****He got so heated and so pissed off that he went into his room and stayed there for 2 full years.****
Studs: Umm, OK.
****Literally, he never came out his room. Not to pee, not to go to school, not to check the mail, nothing.****
Studs: You mean he didn't SHIT or PISS for 2 years! He's HARDCORE! He's HARDCORE! Maybe he ate his own shit?
****His mother would slide breakfast, lunch, and dinner underneath his door.****
Studs: What about snacks? And how high off the floor was this faggot's door that SUPPER could fit under there? The only thing he could eat was pancakes and waffles?
****His best friend would slide his homework and assignments underneath the door and then he would come by to pick it up and take it to school.****
Studs: That is truly a best friend. All my best friend did for me was fuck my ex-girlfriend after I broke up with her. CARRY MY HOMEWORK, SO-CALLED FRIEND! YOU BASTARD!
****One night, at age 15, he crept into his mother's bedroom with a 12 inch knife.****
Studs: Because a 13 inch knife would've made it impossible to creep.
****He stabbed her unaminously
Studs: Unaminously? Bwahahaha!
****until she passed.***
Studs: Until she passed? Passed what? Gas? What the fuck! BWAHAHA!
****His father was justing getting home.****
Studs: "Justing" getting home?
****He hid the knife under his mom and locked himself in the bathroom. PJ's dad called the police. Once PJ came out the bathroom, he had blood covered in him.****
Studs: Covered in him? Huh?
****It looked like he took a bath in blood.****
Studs: Oh, OK! Now it makes sense! Covered in him = blood bath. I get it! WHOO HOO!
****PJ's dad didn't want to be with his son anymore.****
Studs: I wonder why?
****Therefore, PJ was placed into foster care. Until he was 18, he went on a killing spree.****
Studs: So, he stopped killing at 18, is that what you're saying?
****But he didn't use guns or anything. He would rape women, intoxicate them, or gut them.****
Studs: No, you said he didn't use guns or ANYTHING! This clearly states he at least used his dick, alcohol, and some reasonably sharp object you lying fucker!
****He would keep all of his victims' heads in his freezer.****
Studs: Jeffrey Dahmer Hardy.
****He said that later he was gonna clone them in the near future and make a giant monster to take over the world.****
Studs: Run for your lives! It's the.... giant ball of cloned severed heads monster!
****He was caught and placed into an insane asylum. Now that he's out, the only thing that will put up with him is wrestling. Please, help this man.****
Studs: Oh yeah, we'll help him. I order a bolus of jobbing in BOB, STAT! Being our job guy is wonderful therapy for a tortured soul as this. Please, tell me you're KEEPING him, right? Right?
****Favorite Cereal: Frosted Flakes****
Studs: Just like The Great! GIMMICK STEALER!
****Make of Car: black Lambourgini****
Studs: Bought with cash after selling all those frozen heads, they're used as popsicles in Turkey, I think.
****Number of Times You've Watched "The Sound of Music": once****
Studs: HA! PJ Kingz is a fag!
****And anything else I should know about you... He's a very kind hearted person and very sweet.****
Studs: Yeah, for a serial killing, severed head keeping, mother stabber, that is.
****He's a good man, but he just needs a friend.****
Studs: Ah, tear. What happened to the motherfucker that carried his homework?
****He claims that he hates everyone and doesn't want a life.****
Studs: So, KILL YOURSELF!
****At 17, he once played in a rock band called Self Mutalation.****
Studs: Wasn't he in the cuckoo nest then? I don't think they allow misspelled rock bands, eh?
****He was the lead vocalist. No one knows what happened to his bandmates. There are rumors that they had an argument over payment. They said that PJ had gutted them and they are nowhere to be found.****
Studs: "They" said? Who's "they"? The gutted bandmates that were never found? WHAT?
****The bandmates' family and friends don't even know where they are.****
Studs: That should be included in "no one knows", you dillweed fuck-knuckle.
[Studnuts crumples up the application and throws it in Monroe's face before walking off.]
MM: Well…that was one of the oddest pre-match interviews of all-time. I guess it's main event time then. Uh, back to you?
[So, anyway. Let's just get to the fun. Mr. Paradox is walking to the ring! Clearly, he's preparing for the match nobody's been waiting for, but we'll be getting anyway. He turns the corner... and comes face to face with Trey Vincent, holding a rope that hangs from the ceiling.]
Trey Vincent: Hello.
Mr. Paradox: ...Hi?
TV: ...and.... goodbye!
[Vincent yanks on the rope. Then, suddenly, a trap door opens up right below Mr. Paradox and he falls into an inescapable pit of no escape.]
TV: That's DOUBLE the not getting the fuck out!
Styles: OH MY GOD! It's an Impromptu Inescapable Pit of No Escape Match!
[Thank you, Styles.]
MP: Wait. If that's the case, who're my opponents?
[You mean, other than potential starvation and insanity?]
[Well, you really, REALLY don't want to know.]
MP: How bad is it?
=<>: SURPRISE, COCKFAGS!
=C]: WE HAVE MADE OUR EPIC RETURN.
=<>: WELL, YEAH, THAT'S WHAT WE DO. USUALLY, IT INVOLVES CORPSES AND THE UNWILLING. THESE TWO THINGS DON'T HAPPEN TO BE MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE, EITHER.
SW: I forgot. What do these two do again?
Styles: They, uh... they kill people and then rape them.
SW: Isn't it usually the other way around?
Styles: You'd THINK that, wouldn't you?
SW: What I want to know is... where have these two been all this time?
=<>: WELL, APPARENTLY, WE WANDERED INTO THIS INESCAPABLE PIT OF NO ESCAPE. THAT'S WHERE WE'VE BEEN FOR THE LAST COUPLE OF YEARS.
=C]: WE'RE EMOTICONS, SO WE DON'T REALLY NEED... YOU KNOW, FOOD. WE JUST SAT AROUND AND DID NOTHING.
=<>: IT WAS HARD THE FIRST COUPLE OF MONTHS, WHAT WITH THE LACK OF PEOPLE TO KILL. BUT THANKS TO YEARS OF MUTUAL HALLUCINATING, WE'VE COME TO AN UNDERSTANDING AND ENLIGHTENMENT THAT ONLY COMES FROM GOING BATSHIT FUCKING LOCO.
MP: So, uh. If you're "enlightened", does that mean you'll let me live?
=<>: OF COURSE NOT.
=C]: THAT'D BE SILLY.
=<>: DOES THAT EVEN WORK IN THIS CONTEXT?
=C]: I DON'T KNOW.
=<>: LOOK, THE POINT IS, YOU'RE IN AN INESCAPABLE PIT OF NO ESCAPE. WITH *US*. HOW ELSE DID YOU THINK THIS WAS GOING TO GO DOWN? WE'RE JUST GOING TO DRESS IN FANCY DRESSES AND HAVE A TEA PARTY WITH DOLLS? FUCK THAT. FIRST COMES THE DEATH.
=C]: OF THE FESTERING VARIETY.
MP: But I have a sword.
=<>: WHAT, YOU'RE GOING TO SWING A SWORD AT EMOTICONS? WHAT ARE YOU, FUCKING PSYCHO?
=C]: SERIOUSLY, WE'RE IMPERVIOUS TO STABBING.
=<>: ARE YOU?
MP: Well, uh... not es--
=C]: NOTHING CAN SAVE YOU NOW.
Dr. Thrilla: *falling into the Inescapable Pit of No Escape* *Heroic Metal Clanging*!
Dr. Thrilla: ... *Defeated metal clanging*
=<>: LET'S JUST GET ON WITH THIS. WE HAVE HALLUCINATION NEWS AFTER THIS.
*STAB, STAB, STABBITY STAB!*
Styles: OH MY GOD!
SW: I'm suddenly glad we don't deal with these guys any more.
=C]: MY TURN.
*RAPE, RAPE, RAPEITY RAPE!*
=<>: IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE DID THAT.
=C]: I KNOW. IT STILL HAS THAT SAME EDGE.
=<>: YES. EXCEPT IT'S HARD TO GET THE BLOODSTAINS OUT.
=C]: WELL, AN INESCAPABLE PIT OF NO ESCAPE IS HARDLY CONSIDERED HOMEY.
[Up above the Inescapable Pit of No Escape, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" had a pool net. She fished up not only Mr. Paradox's Not Good Enough to Fight Alone strap, but also a briefcase.]
Trey Vincent: Excellent. As if I was going to let Dr. Thrilla fight Axl. *Pffft* I'm taking this beer for ME! I'm gonna bribe myself.
Sarah: The hell you are! I've GOT the beer. You want it?
TV: Maybe. What'll you give me for it?
Sarah: Uh…I'll give you the beer?
TV: Sweet. Alright.
Sarah: I want a title shot.
TV: You don't need beer to bribe me, honey. I mean…uh…you NEED beer to bribe me. With naked beer boobs.
Sarah: *Sigh* Have I mentioned that I really wish you didn't have any power around here?
TV: Tough titty. You want a title shot. You've got it. Against Jerri Li for the T&A title.
Sarah: *Pouts* I wanted a shot at the OWTTM!
TV: I wanna see you roll around with Jerri for 10 minutes. Guess who makes the matches. Yoink!
[Trey steals the beer briefcase.]
[Back to the arena, where "Rising Sun" by Bexta is playing. Seth Harker is out and he's got the Medium-Sized Bucket® with him.]
Seth: Well, due to the unexpected stabbing and raping of Mr. Paradox, we now need a replacement for his spot in the main event. So, in this bucket are the names of every BOBster who is currently in the building, who isn't being raped or stabbed at the moment, and who hasn't already wrestled tonight. Sadly, there are only two slips of paper in here. And trust me, both choices are the suck.
[Seth fishes around in the bucket and pulls out a name.]
Seth: Coma. Right. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go kick Bait and Switch out of the building.
Voiceover: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!
Styles: Here we go!
[As a Ramones medley plays, Coma rolls lucha libre style to the ring, shouting "Ole!" after each roll.]
Styles: Coma is a—
Styles: I was going to say former ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS and he was half of the Not Good Enough to Fight Alone Tag Team Champions with Hallucination Boy.
SW: And he's tight with Seth Harker, apparently. Hey, where did this extra announce desk come from?
Styles: I'm not sure.
KF: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Chinese announcer for this match, huàn ju nán hái!
SW: Well, that was convenient.
[Hallucination Boy, wearing a red silk shirt, red silk pants, a Chinese bamboo hat and a Fu Manchu moustache, walks down the aisle.]
SW: (Chinese accent) What an ahh-soo.
Styles: BOB has gone international.
SW: I thought we just went to Babel fish hell. Seriously? The Chinese announce desk? This is quite the shituation.
Styles: Hello, huàn ju nán hái. Welcome to Coxsackie.
HB: hé finlay snorkels gen hornswoggle's doodle. huo che! *Sounds of headset thumping as Hallucination Boy dives off his chair to the floor*
SW: Bwahahaha! Was that Chinese? Or do snorkel and doodle not translate to Chinese?
Styles: There's a lawsuit. *Ahem*
["Smooth Operator" by Sade hits. Dr. Silaconne M. Plants steps out from the back to a Legend Pop.]
Styles: What a welcome for the Smooth Operator here in New York.
SW: What a bunch of Coxsackers. It's just like Studnuts said. This is a total pity push. But who is pitying SMP? I'm pretty sure it's not Trey Vincent who SHOULD be in this match right now.
Styles: Seth Harker made the right call. Plants was screwed out of the tag match when Trey switched partners at the last minute.
SW: But Plants hasn't RPed in months. I thought the winner was going to be based on the most entertaining Rants?
KF: Scotty, that's just silly. This tournament is based on athletic competition.
SW: Don't you need to have athletes to have athletic competition?
KF: Don't make me smite you, Scotty.
HB: ni hao hobbledehoy. san bèi haitch has zhong duan ji? floccinaucinihilipilification. huo che! *Sounds of headset thumping as Hallucination Boy dives off his chair to the floor*
SW: This is just a way to rip of WWE people in a new language, isn't it?
Styles: It sure seems so.
["(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" by Rolling Stones hits next. Another good pop for The Great as he steps out.]
Styles: The Great has only been in BOB for a few months, but he's already had quite an impact. He almost defeated Death for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS earlier this year, and now has the Swiss Army Belt.
SW: Too bad he can't figure out how to build a better Pete Trable cyborg. Hallucination Boy, why are you touching your nipples like that?
HB: Ooshie. wú ru tóu shì rú tóng jiá.
SW: Ich. I really miss Heidi's hard nipples right now. hu? ch?! *Sounds of headset thumping as Scotty dives off his chair to the floor*
Styles: Scotty? Um, I think that was Hallucination Boy's bit.
SW: Oh. Right. *Ahem* Sorry, Hallucination Boy.
["Dead Between the Walls" by Pelican hits. Big boos for the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, Steve Studnuts. Studnuts walks to the ring with a cocky smile.]
Styles: All four men have arrived. Let's send it up to Kay Fabe for the super special ring intros.
KF: Ladies and gentlemen, this is your main event, and it is the final match in the Grand Slam tournament. Every title will be on the line! Introducing first, the only guy who doesn't have a title, but yet he's somehow in the main event, from Parts Forgotten, Coma!
KF: And Coma's partner, from Naples, Italy. He is one half of the Not Good Enough to Fight Alone Tag Team champions. He weighs in tonight at 240 pounds. The Sinister Surgeon. The Smooth Operator. The Breast Man For The Job… Dr. Silaconne M. Plants!
KF: And their opponents. First, from St. Louis, Missouri. He weighs in at 225 pounds. The Swiss Army champion, The Great!
KF: And his partner. He hails from Phoenix, Arizona, and weighs in tonight at 262 pounds. The ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, Steve Studnuts!
Styles: And we're just about ready to get this one underway. Hang on. What is Coma doing there.
SW: He's handing SMP an international object! Terrorist!
Styles: SMP looks pissed! It looks like a video. Can we get a shot of that.
SW: "Billy Baldwin Waters a Buffalo"? Is that another Heidi sex tape?
Styles: How would you get that from THAT title?
SW: I know things that gone on backstage, Styles. Unlike you. I have sources who tell me what that means.
Styles: Right. What's it mean?
SW: It's a Coma-Heidi sex tape!
Styles: Aaaaanyway. This should prove interesting. Plants just tossed Coma out of the ring! Oh boy. Looks like SMP will start against Steve Studnuts. Every fan in the arena is standing.
[The bell rings. Everyone sits down.]
SW: Bwahahaha. So much for your dramatic play-by-play. This IS BOB, Styles. Our fans are anti-marks.
Styles: Plants and Studnuts lockup! Studnuts going right to work on Plants left arm.
SW: It's a good thing Plants is right-handed, or Studnuts' strategy could be in danger of working.
Styles: Plants reverses. Studnuts counters into an arm bar. Hammerlock by Studnuts. Reversal by Plants. Now both men exchanging forearms mid-ring. Studnuts with a brutal kick stuns the Smooth Operator! And another! But Plants unloading with rights now. Studnuts off the ropes and drops SMP with an elbow to the nose! Studnuts drags SMP to the corner and we have our first tag of the match. The Great is in. The Great stomping away on SMP in the corner.
SW: We're in The Great's favorite part of New York: upstate.
SW: Right here in the Empire State.
Styles: I get it. Hey Scotty, don't you think somebody should choose him to be their vice presidential running mate? Obama and The Great in '08!
SW: C'mon, Styles. Let's not get silly. He's just a parody ewrestler.
SW: What? They all know the joke.
HB: ji?o lì shì ji?.
KF: Hallucination Boy! Goddess Hecate, work thy will…
HB: huo che! *dives*
Styles: The Great with an uppercut.
SW: Talk about coming out of the starting gate.
Styles: Are all your lines going on end in rhymes with "great"?
SW: Until I run out, probably.
Styles: SMP responds with some punches of his own now. The Great goes down.
SMP: Hey, pal. I saw your promos. If your wife ever wants any work done, send her my way.
Styles: Oh man. Is he insinuating The Great's wife's breasts aren't all that Great?
SW: Bwahahaha. Gravity's a bitch when you pop out that many kids!
Styles: Great comes back on the attack with more uppercuts to SMP. SMP with a tag to Coma? The Great with arm drags for Coma. The Great trying for a German suplex, but Coma runs them backward to the corner. Sunset clap? The Great is just looking around not sure what Coma is doing. And he's not alone.
[Coma puts two fingers behind his head like they're a feather and begins bouncing around the ring.
Styles: Indian attack by Coma! But The Great answers a German suplex. Cover. One. Two! No! Coma kicked out. And I may be wrong, but I think I saw Studnuts on his way into the ring that time to break up The Great's pin. Because Studnuts' partner could win all the titles himself tonight.
SW: Yep. The stench of barley, hops and betrayal is in the air. Beer man! Beer me!
Styles: You can't mix beer with Vicodin.
SW: You sure? It worked the other night great. I was out like a light.
Styles: Studnuts tagged back in. And Studnuts going to work on Coma now. Oh man. He is just pounding him with punches and kicks. No-nonsense offense by Studnuts here.
SW: And he's not beating him in the head. Studnuts realizes Coma is one level above brain dead as it is, so it wouldn't do any good.
Styles: Coma fighting back now. Uh, neck headbutt? Nice try anyway. Coma rolls for the tag.
Coma: Ole! Neep!
Styles: Studnuts hits an atomic drop on SMP. Running kick to the face! Studnuts drops the leg. Cover! One, two, and…no!
HB: Chris Kanyon shì yi ge headmaster de Bangkok! Kerfuffle.
SW: Bwahahaha! I got that one!
Styles: Studnuts has an arm bar locked in again. Tag to The Great. They're smashing away on SMP Demolition style here, Scotty.
SW: (Singing) Here comes the Ax, and here comes the Smasher…
Styles: The Great with a suplex. I believe that was Suplex 12 for those gamers at home. Cover! One! Two. Nope. Studnuts gets another tag. Studnuts unloading with rights on SMP again. Snap mare. Kick to the back of the head by Studnuts! Studnuts grabs SMP's legs and drops the knee.
SW: So much for SMP winning the match and banging Heidi after the show. Not that he had any hope of either.
Styles: Two, and. SMP kicks out. Tag to The Great again. The Great with Outlaw Punches 2 now for SMP.
SW: Ugh. He learned Billy Gunn moves from that stupid video game? Just what BOB needed…MORE suckage.
Styles: SMP is floored with another uppercut. Back suplex nicely done by The Great. Cover again. One, two, and SMP kicks out again. Tag in to Studnuts. Whip to the ropes. Double elbow for SMP, who really needs a tag.
SW: And a better partner.
Styles: Coma just ran in. Great and Studnuts catch him with a double hip toss, beautifully done. And Coma rolls out of the ring. Studnuts goes back to work on SMP in the corner. He's just pummeling SMP. Great gets the tag back in. Now Great unloading with some Benoit punches.
SW: He Who Shall Not Be Named punches. Too many protests after that whole Kay Fabe/MMR1 match.
Styles: We had protests? Were they invisible protests?
Styles: You're drunk AND high, aren't you.
Styles: Don't mouth guitar Benoit's entrance music. Not funny.
SW: It's been a year! Get over it.
Styles: SMP with a spinebuster on The Great. Cover! One! Two! Coma just pulled off SMP?
SW: Maybe that idiot isn't such an idiot after all.
Styles: Coma and SMP are arguing. Not that Coma has a chance in hell of out-arguing SMP.
HB: yì jiàn bù hé!
Styles: SMP reluctantly tags in Coma because he needs a breather. The Great punches Coma down and tags in Studnuts once again. Studnuts stomping on Coma like he was a bug. Off the ropes. Coma hits a Boston guillotine knee! COVER! ONE! TWO! No! SMP just pulled off Coma!
HB: gèng yì jiàn bù hé! Tobor!
Styles: Shoving match between SMP and Coma here! SMP slaps Coma down to the mat! Oh boy. SMP's leaving?
SW: Good riddance. He had no business in this main event anyway!
Styles: That leaves Studnuts alone, and he's already brutalizing Coma. Studnuts is looking to end this one right now! Death Valley (Of The Sun) Driver coming up! SMP's back in! LOW BLOW! And a huge cheer from the crowd on that one!
HB: gù dìng shàng! Gnip gnop!
SW: I have NO clue what that was.
Styles: It was a set up.
SW: I meant whatever the hell Hallucination Boy said.
Styles: Right. Me too. Deadly Suplex by Coma on Studnuts there! Tag in to SMP now. Chop!
Styles: Another chop!
Styles: SMP slams Studnuts and drops the elbow. One, two, and no! Now SMP with a blatant choke on Studnuts!
SW: And this sick crowd is cheering? Studnuts is your hero, not SMP.
Styles: Coma's in. Open butt knife!
SW: The FUCK?
Styles: I just call 'em, I don't name 'em. Coma outside. Springboard…swing? Uh boy. It's gonna be a long match.
Styles: Scotty? SCOTTY! Wake up!
Styles: Well, I guess that beer Vicodin combo didn't work out too well for Scotty. It has been a long show. Plants back in. He's working over Studnuts in the corner now with punches. But Studnuts fighting back with forearm shots to the face. SMP ducks. Slam by SMP. Studnuts whipped to the ropes, but he rebounds with a boot to SMP's face. Knee to the head by Studnuts! Damn!
HB: zhòng dà xu yào biao qian
Styles: The Great needs to get the tag in here.
HB: wo fu said nà!
Styles: What's wrong, Hallucination Boy?
HB: huo che! *dives*
Styles: Coma just took out The Great with a tilt-a-whirl roll! That will prevent the tag. Special drag on Studnuts by Coma. Now SMP stomping on Studnuts. Now he's got Studnuts' legs. SMP drops the knee right to the Studnuts. Cover! One! Two, and…no! Chinlock by SMP now, as he no doubt wants to weaken Studnuts neck for that Nipple Cutter at some point. Studnuts has Plants by the hair and is up. Chinbreaker! Eye rake! But SMP hooks Studnuts legs. Tag in to Coma. Right into a Jerkweed Death Drop! Studnuts and Coma are down. THE GREAT'S IN!
SW: I'm up!
Styles: The Great unloading on both Coma and SMP here. Backdrop for Coma! Backdrop for SMP.
SW: Back to sleep for Scotty. Wake me up when it's over.
Styles: Belly to belly on SMP. Belly to belly for Coma! Studnuts grabs SMP. Inverted atomic drop! The Great just clotheslined Coma! Studnuts locks SMP in the Climax! Studnuts wants him to tap out. But hold on! The Great locks in the figure four. Drops it. The Great Figure Eight has been locked in! Will SMP or Coma tap out? Generic Ref is checking with both!
Styles: Studnuts just dropped his hold. He kicks The Great in the face! The Great's up! Studnuts and The Great are going at it! The fans are on their feet as THE ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS and the Swiss Army champ are slugging away on each other.
Coma: Get the weasels!
SMP: Um. Right.
Styles: NIPPLECUTTER ON COMA! ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! Studnuts and The Great just broke up the pin in time. Studnuts lifting up Studnuts! Oh no! OH NO!
HB: shèng pì huà!
Crowd: Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!
Styles: OHMYGOD! Plants just got Gorilla press slammed through the Chinese EZ Break Announce Desk from the ring!
SW: And like all Chinese-made crap, the table just broke into hundreds of pieces. I hope he got a bonus for that bump.
Styles: Twist of Great on Coma! Cover! One! Two! Studnuts breaks it up!
[The crowd begins booing as Trey Vincent is walking down the aisle with his skull cane in one hand and the briefcase full of beer in the other.]
SW: Uh oh! This thing's about to get interesting.
Styles: Here comes Seth! Seth Harker running after Vincent. Trey's in the ring. Are we about to find out where Trey stands. Seth grabs the cane away from Trey. The iAd is falling apart right before us! Trey tosses Seth the beer. Nice catch. But he drops the cane. Trey winds up!
SW: Oh no!
Styles: He just nailed The Great! What the hell is this? I thought Trey was pissed at Studnuts over Sarah!
SW: Hahaha! Harker just blasted Coma with that beer briefcase!
Styles: The hell? The iAd isn't falling apart. They just pulled the biggest swerve on all of us! Coma and The Great are OUT. Studnuts with the double cover. No! No! No! Oh no.
[The bell rings. The iAd are all smiles.]
SW: YES! Oh, this is fucking AWESOME! The iAd is back together again!
KF: Here is the winner of the match, and NEW Swiss Army champion, Not Good Enough To Fight Alone Tag Team Champions, and also STILL THE ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS…Steve Studnuts!
[Kay rolls into the ring and hugs her man Seth Harker as Studnuts and Trey share a laugh about the whole thing. Plants, meanwhile, is trying to dig himself out of the wreckage at ringside. Kay hands the mic to Trey.]
TV: Greetings, humans. In the year 2002, three men came to BOB with a vision. You are now looking at Steve Studnuts! THE ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, the Swiss Army Champion, the Not Good Enough To Fight Alone champions. You are looking at the Acting BigBOSS, Seth Harker. You are looking at the Vice President in Charge of Everything, Trey Vincent! Oh, and hey, Axl! Look whose got your guaranteed ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS beer case, fagola! Bottom line: we rule this fucking land. We have all the power. We have all the titles. Fuck BOB. Fuck Michelle and Axl's stupid new [adult swim] show. And bow before the i. A. d! Bitches.
[Seth and Kay look cool behind Trey and Studnuts, soaking up the scene, as Trey hands the mic off to the new Grand Slam champion. The crowd is a mix of shock, cheers from the smarks, and boos from the marks and girls for the scene.]
Studs: Mission. Fucking. Accomplished. I said it wasn't a promise. I said it wasn't an idle threat. I said it was a GAT-DAMN FACT! Because we're iAd…and you're not. But I KNOW. You WISH…YOU COULD BE!
©2008 BOB Wrestling!