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Wrestlestarrmaniacade

MELROSE HILLS CREEK, 96969

BigBoss: This has got to be Trey Vincent's fault.

[The Melrose Hills Creek Hotel in California. A wrestling ring is set up in a large ballroom. Up above are various doorways on three visible floors. A few stragglers are looking down at the set up. Suddenly, a door opens on the third floor on the left wing and a woman wearing only a towel looks side to side, then tip toe runs to another room four doors down and goes inside.]

Hotel Manager: Good EEEEEEEEEvening sir!

BigB: AHH!!

[It's a woman, dressed in a dark red suit-dress.]

Hotel Manager: Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Are you the BigBoss of BOB?

BigB: You did read the script, didn't you? And don't you remember rehearsal? About ten minutes ago?

Hotel Manager: No. I was dropped on my head as a child. Well, thrown really....daily.....Line!

[Upstairs, a door on the second floor opens. A man in green scrubs, wearing a stethoscope steps outside. He turns around as a woman follows him out. She is wearing a white T-shirt and panties.]

Hotel Doctor: I hope you're feeling better.

Daddy Jake's Daughter: Now remember to kidnap my brother so the stress will kill his girlfriend's unborn baby.

Hotel Doctor: I promise...right after I take care of that mysterious blackmailer who's been sending those photos of the kids I accidentally killed on purpose.

DJD: Bye. (She closes the door.)

Hotel Doctor: Bye. (He looks at the door a few seconds and then walks around to the opposite side. Knock, knock.)

Ex-Model: Who's there?

Hotel Doctor: Hotel Doctor.

[The door opens.]

Hotel Doctor: What seems to be the problem?

Ex-Model: I have this terrible itch between my thighs.

Hotel Doctor: Let me take a look at that.

Ex-Model: Won't you come inside?

Hotel Doctor: Yeah, that too.

[Hotel Doctor goes in and the door closes.]

BigB: What the hell is going on here?

Hotel Manager: Didn't Mr. Vincent tell you? He said traditional pay-per-views are so boring. Just look at the WWE. So he wanted to break new ground in sports entertainment. Tonight will be a sports entertainment pay-per-view like has never been seen before!

BB: So, what, will there be a crowd?

Hotel Manager: Sure. The guests can stand on the balconies up there, and the BOB fans can sit on the chairs around the ring.

[A parking lot. A car pulls into the hotel lot. A man with braided hair, wearing a black DGNR8 shirt and black pants walks up to the window of that car with a microphone and a bottle of water.]

Valet: Oh you didn't know?

BOB fan: Huh?

Valet: My ass gonna park somebodddddddddddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!

BOB fan: Hey, aren't you....

Valet: (After taking a sip of water, he starts tossing the bottle up and down, throwing water in the fan's face. He then tosses the bottle away.) You DAMN RIGHT. I need some weed. Got any? Weed is the price of admission tonight.

BOB fan: Sorry, I just want to watch the pay-per-view. Why don't you go on a scavenger hunt for your career or something.

Valet. Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, children of all ages....

[Steve Studnuts appears behind the valet, a.k.a. Parking Lot Dogg Jesse James. Studnuts' right arm is in a sling.]

SS: Jerkweed!

PLDJJ: Weed?

[Studnuts punches the valet with his good arm (the left one dumbass). He then kicks the crap out of the has-been.]

SS: You failed our drug test. You're fired.

PLDJJ: *Coughcough*Again?*coughcough*

SS: Hey idiot, go park. This guy doesn't work for BOB. Pay inside. Man, I hope he hasn't ruined this pay-per-view. What is a pay-per-view without fans?

[Studnuts is serious for a second as he looks at the fan driving away. Then he smiles.]

PLDJJ: Your ass better call anambulancefor meeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

[The check-in counter. A hot blonde wearing a mini-skirt and a bra is sitting on the counter, her legs wrapped around Desk Clerk 1's face.]

Desk Clerk 1: C'mon.

Virgin. No.

Desk Clerk 1: C'mon.

Virgin: No.

Desk Clerk 1: C'mon.

Virgin: No.

[The Ballroom. On the third floor, Trey Vincent is standing by a cleaning cart.]

Cleaning Woman 1: May I help you?

TV: How you doin'?

Cleaning Woman 1: Me, good.

TV: You horny, baby?

Cleaning Woman 1: Horny?

TV: What do you say? Me, you, any room you want. (He makes a circle with his thumb and index finger and then starts penetrating said hole with his other index finger and middle finger. Then he smiles.)

Cleaning Woman 1: Oh, yes (she smiles).

TV: C'mon darling. Let's go have some fun!

[BigBoss shows up.]

TV: Damn it!

BigB: Vincent!

TV: BB.

BigB: What is the meaning of this?

TV: Entertainment?

BigB: Since when are nonsensical plotlines with meaningless sex and murderous plots, villains and vixens, entertaining?

TV: Umm...

BigB: This is wrestling!

TV: Guess what. I'm 33 1/3 owner of BOB.

BigB: Booker!

TV: Whatever.

Cleaning Woman 1: Booker? Oh! SUCKA!!!!!

[TV and BigB look at the woman blankly.]

TV: Anyway. As long as I'm 33 1/3rd booker, my 33 1/3rd is sports entertainment for a new generation. Long, rambling starts to a show. Silly matches. Tons of interviews. And wait till you see the screw jobs. It's CRASH PPV TIME, Boss. Welcome to Wrestlestarrmaniacade!

[Fade out. Fade up on a close up of Bohemoth's face. Then a close up of Trey Vincent's face. Then a close up of The Geek's face.

Three men. Two titles. And a screw job in a pear tree! WRESTLESTARRMANIACADE. Have a moment. Enjoy it!

[The carpark of The Hotel Ballroom. A not-very-streched limo pulls up. Emblazoned on its side is the logo for "Rent-A-Dent Limos." The chaffeur leaps out to open the back door. Eagle-eyed viewers may note that the driver is actually Bivalve in disguise. Yep, we're in the finacial cactus again, people... Pray for a buy-rate!]

Mark Shills' Voice: It's Trey Vincent! Trey Vincent is HERE!

Scotty Whatbodys' Voice: He's in the Main Event, Mark... where the hell should he be, Atlantic City? And what the hell? Studnuts and Vincent already were on camera tonight. It's almost like this show was written by two different people....where's the flow? Where's the consistency? Somebody's got to start co-ordinating the pre-taped bits...

Mike Monroes' Voice: And there's Seth Harker behind him.. and is that... STEVE STUDNUTS! It IS! The incurable Apathy disorder is HERE for WRESTLESTARRMANIACADE!

[The iAd begin to walk toward the building in dramatic slow-mo, much like the heros in a Jerry Bruckheimer/Michael Bay movie. The effect is spoiled slightly by Bivalve mugging at the camera while mouthing "Hi Mom!" As they do so, a dented VW van drives up. It parks across three spaces and the Kent State Krew spill out. Instantly, a gaggle (or should that be a "giggle") of teenage girls materialize from nowhere and mob them. Trey nudges Seth and points to Hardcore JJ, who's still struggling to free himself from his booster seat in the back of he van.]

SW: Mark, you missed your cue...

MS: Sorry, I did too! THE KENT STATE KREW! The Kent State Krew are HERE! LIVE! And... what the heck?

[The iAd quickly sneak over to the Kent-mobile, where Trey upends JJ's seat. Seth opens the front door to screen the iAds' activities as Trey pins the still-belted-in toddler on the back seat. Studnuts uses his non-slung arm (Pop quiz: Which arm was it dumbass? WHICH ONE! See answer, above...) to make frantic motions to someone off-screen.]

MS: Are they doing what I think they're doing?

MM: You mean? Wait, what time is it?

SW: Just after eight!

MM: And it's not a Tuesday?

SW: Nope!

MM: Then the "Are You Out Of Your Fricking Mind?" 16/6 rule is in effect!

[The Generic Ref runs into shot and drops to count.]

SW: You're damn slappy it is! One! Two! Three!! New champion! New champion! I love Pay-Per-Views! Hahahaha!

[Cut to the inside of the ballroom. The Masked Announcer puts down a cup of coffee and finds a mic.]

MA: *Ahem*... Here is your winner... and NEWWWW AYOOYFM Champion... TREY VINCENT!

[There is a long period of silence. Eventually, Eddie B arrives in his booth and cues his CD of "Earth Shaking Pops: Volume 9".]

"Crowd": HO-GAN! HO-GAN! HO-GAN!

There is no special PPV theme song, no explosions and a quiet ballroom as the camera cuts to find Mike Monroe, Scotty Whatbody and Mark Shill ready to call the action.]

MM: Hello fans. Yes I am STILL alive. In case you forgot, my name is Mike Monroe and I'm joined by....

SW: Ugh. Are you trying to drag this out? They know!

MM: Somebody's in a bad mood tonight.

SW: Hmm, let's see. Heidi or Mark Shill next to me all night.

MM: Well, she will be in a special referee outfit.

SW: Yeah, well, who am I supposed to come on to for the next three hours.

[Mark Shill clears his throat.]

SW: You ever do that again!

MM: Sit down Scotty.

MS: Welcome everyone to the biggest extravaganza of ALL TIME! Nearly 200 fans have packed the cramped Ballroom at the Melrose Hills Creek Hotel! They're literally hanging from the rafters!

[The camera pans the crowd. They're all standing still, no crowd reaction. A few fans have signs hung around their necks, including BOB SUX, DIE BOB DIE and WORST. FEDERATION. EVER.]

MM: What's up with this crowd?

[The bar.]

BOB fan: I need a beer.

Bartender: Sorry. There's no alcohol here.

BOB fan: No alcohol? How am I supposed to get through a sports event sober? Especially this one?!

Bartenders: Orders of BOB management.

BOB fan: This fed sux!

[Back to announcers.]

SW: No beers? That explains the fans pissed-offedness.

MM: The what? Well fans, we are proud to let you know that none of OUR main eventers have walked out and commited spousal abuse, so our card will go on as planned!

SW: Yeah. Can't wait for the duct tape match. Always wanted to have Sarah tied up.

MM: Ever picture going two on one with her?

SW: Oh yeah. Uh, I mean...no!

MS: And our HUGE main event.

SW: Is fucked up.

MM: Hey, watch your fucking mouth Scotty.

MS: The Geek vs. Trey Vincent vs. Bohemoth in a.......match. We're going long fans, so let's HEAD....TO......THE.....RING....!......!.....!

MM: Turn down the volume, Mark.

SW: *Coughcough*tonyschiavone*coughcough*

[Upstairs.]

MS: What the? This is unexpected!

[Scotty turns Shill's script to the right page.]

[Upstairs, a motorcyle suddenly drives down the hallway, leaving a cloud of exhaust.]

SW: The fans aren't gonna like that smell. There's no ventilation here.

MM: Did I just hear a shotgun being cocked? Did the fans get checked by security?

[The security office. Now, Steve Studnuts is there.]

SW: Why the hell is he all over the show? Didn't he lose his smile and go home?

[Studnuts takes out a dustbuster and cleans off his iAd T-shirt. He chuckles.]

MS: They're trying to drive away all our fans!

[Meanwhile, upstairs, the biker guy has stopped at the door where the Hotel Doctor went in. He knocks. The door opens.]

Biker: Oh, I get it. It wasn't enough that you had sex with my sister, my mother, my aunt, my two cousins, my grandmother and ME. Now you've had sex with my fiancee!

Hotel Doctor: Fiancee?

[The Ex-Model comes out wrapped in a white sheet.]

Biker: Well, honey, it's over.

Ex-Model: I can explain, don't...

Biker: I was talking to HIM. You and me are still getting married. Yes (he says smiling evilly). Married. Hmm. Haha. BWAHAHAHAHA.

MM: Can you follow this?

SW: Sure can.

[The security office. The Virgin enters the room. Studs is reclining in a reclining chair with his feet up on a security monitor. She steps over him and straddles his thighs. She leans back on his legs until the back of her head touches the tips of his boots. Studs takes a peek up her skirt.]

Studs: I can do more for you with my one good arm than most guys could with two functioning arms.

Virgin: No.

Studs: You trying to distract me?

Virgin: No.

Studs: You sure?

Virgin: No.

Studs: (After a pause.) Can you say any other word besides no when you're horny?

Virgin: No.

Studs: Do I need permission to....

MM: Whoa, hold on....

SW: This show's getting good. What'd he say? You talked over him!

Virgin: No.

Studs: (Looks at camera.) Go somewhere else!

[The ring.....A piece of railing, Biker and Hotel Doctor are in the ring.]

MS: How did THAT happen?

SW: Whoa!

Crowd: ...

MM: Let's kick this show off with a wrestling match between two people who are anything but icons and never will be. The worst of all-time! Winner continues to lose, loser has to enter the KING OF THE DEATH MATCH tournament. Let's kick it to the Masked Announcer!

["Xxxtreme" begins to blare thruout the arena. Xxxtreme Machine walks out to the ring to Booooo's as the crowd booooo's.]

MA: Introducing first, from Who Gives A Crapville, he is XXXtreme Machine!!!

Crowd: GOLD-BERG, GOLD-BERG!

MM: How bout that fake crowd noise?

SW: *Smack* (slaps forehead).

MS: They're not saying 'Goldberg.' They're saying, BOOOOOO, BOOOOOO.

MM: (Stands up.) Are you fans saying Goldberg or BOOOOOO, BOOOOOO?

Crowd: GOLD-BERG, GOLD-BERG!

MM: This show is a disaster.

SW: Well surprise, surprise, you return to announcing and suddenly the product goes to hell. Coincidence?

MA: And his opponent, he is full of piss and vinegar, give or take the vinegar, he hails from the back alleys of Flushing Meadows, Urine!

["Golden Showers" by the Mentors blares thruout the arena as Urine walks to the ring to Boooooo's. Then the music stops playing and he waits in the corner to wait for his opponent or stares at his opponent who is already in the ring or on the floor and mocks him.]

Crowd: GOLD-BERG!

SW: The word jobber is thrown around a lot here in BOB....but this match will determine the biggest jobber of all-time and the lowest point of one of these, *ahem* men's, careers.

Crowd: ..., ..., ...

MS: What a reaction. I'd have to call it a mixed reaction. Many are not cheering Xxxtreme Machine, many are not cheering Urine. Neither man is the fans' least favorite. Oh, what a Wrestlestarrmaniacade moment! Circle this date on your calendar! It will be a holiday every year after today!

[Ding, dong]

MM: And there's the bell. Both men are circling each other. And both men trip over their own feet!

MS: It's a stalemate!

MM: Both men are back up and circling again. And Xxxtreme Machine trips over his own feet! Urine is still standing.

MS: XXXtreme Machine gets back to his feet.

MM: They go for a lock up, and both men's noses are bashed as they botch the move.

SW: Damn, they suck. They suck a lot of suck.

MS: Urine tries to pick up XM but is too weak to pick him up.

MM: Xxxtreme goes for a knife-hand chop and misses. I mean...did you hear that smack?

SW: Way to protect the *cough*talent*cough. Urine rolls outside and forgets to use his feet and smacks face first on the ballroom floor. Urine tastes the wood.

MM: XM is going outside.

SW: Oh! Look at the floor. Urine is juicing. Er, peeing. And Xxxterem trips and falls as he gets out of the ring.

MM: OH MY.

MS: He just HIT A 450 SPLASH!

SW: (Under his breath) By accident.

MM: Xxterme Machinea is up and looks....amazed.

MS: Urine locks on a claw hold! That could cave in his SKULL!!!!!

MM + SW: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

MS: Right ON URINE'S HEAD! He tries to lift up Urine but isn't strong enough.

SW: Is this match simmed? WTF? We already used that spot!

MS: He should've known he couldn't beat him this early in the match.

SW: Who wrote your lines? Zeus Pro?

MM: Maybe Tony is a character in the new 'Sims' video game or something?

MS: Urine is up! He kicks XM in the shin!

MM: Urine picks up Xtreme Machine and botches a suplex! Oh, what an eyesore this match has become. Both men are down.

MS: But they get BACK TO THEIR FEET! Urine goes down for a low blow!

SW: I demand a new script writer! Ratings are sagging lower than an 80-year-old woman's....

MM: Hey!

SW: What?

MM: This is pay-per-view.

SW: Oh, right, who cares about ratings, we already got all the suckers money. Yee-haw. But they at least have the right to hear me say the word 'tits.'

MS: Urine is back to his feet. Xxtreme Machine gets back to his feet. Listen to that crowd!

Crowd: ...

MM: Urine whips Xxrterm Machine to the ropes. Big boot to the thigh! Urine goes off the ropes but misses an atomic corkscrew leg drop.

MS: Xxtterem Macheime goes to work with closed fists! He's throwing rights at Urine.

MM: He pauses....what's he doing? He's looking up at the lighting equipment.

XM: *ACHOOOOO*

MM: Right onto his hand and punches Urine to the mat. He looks to the crowd.

MS: Is it time for Xxtreme Machine to hit some sort of move?

SW: What, the Jobber's Elbow?

MM: He bounces off the ropes and trips over Urine!

SW: And another successful Jobber's Elbow. Yet, he somehow managed to drive a knee into Urine's face. Lady luck is on his side, and it's probably the only lady he'll ever get close to in his sad life.

MM: Xxtreme looks at Urine. Cover.

MM: One.

MM: Two.

MM: That's it. Urine kicks out.

SW: Uh oh.

MM: XM with a punch.

SW: Urine's "pissing up!"

MM: XM with a punch but Urine no-sells it. And again. Another no-sell. Urine's back on his feet and rubbing at his crotch like a maniac. One last punch. No sale!

MS: OH THE DRAMA!

MM: Urine waves his finger at XM. XM winds up but Urine blocks it.

SW: "Whatcha gonna do when Urine pees all over you?"

MS: Punch. Punch! PUNCH!

MM: Xxxtreme Machine is whipped to the rope.

MS: BIG BOOT TO THE THIGH!

MM: Urine hits an atomic corkscrew leg drop!

MS: He gets BACK TO HIS FEET!

MM: And makes a cover. One.

MS: TWO.

SW: Three would've won it, but there was no three because Xtrxemex Machine kicked out! Urine is...oh no...unzipping his fly. I was just kidding about the peeing, and about the all over, and the XXXtreme Machine.

MM: Xxterem e....what the hell? He just pulled one of those long two-pronged barbecue forks out from his boot!

SW: And he jabs Urine's hot dog!

Crowd: ...

MS: The fans are ELECTRIC!

MM: He pulls back the fork. And he hits Urine in the face with it.

MS: Urine goes down. XM gets on top of Urine and grabs the leg. The ref goes down!

MM: One!

MM: Two!

MM: Three! Urine has lost the match. He will go into the KING OF THE DEATH MATCH tournament! And Xxterem Machine will continue to suk!

[We cut to the iAd walking down a corridor. Presumably, we're supposed to believe this is a live feed, despite the large sign behind them reading...

"Red Wings"
"Visitors"

... With arrows pointing in appropriate directions. And Seth is wearing a jacket and leather pants, unlike his jeans and T-shirt combo from the start of the show.]

Seth: Big match tonight, Trey... you ready for this?

Trey: I was born ready, Seth!

Steve Studnuts: Jerkweed at nine o'clock!

[The threesome pull up short as Insano Mano charges out from a side corridor, misses Trey by a foot and cannons into a stray locker with a resounding "BONG!". He slides down the locker, finishing up as a semi-concussed puddle on the floor.The iAd step over him and continue to walk down the corridor. As they pass a scaffolding, Trey stops and bends over. An out-of-control Kamikazie Ken barrels off the scaffolding with a Ken-Ton Splash, splatting to the floor behind Trey.]

Trey: Hey, I found a quarter!

Seth: Nice. Now you can call someone who gives a crap about this fed...

[They take a left turn and open a door into a locker room. From behind the door comes the impact of a heavy thud.]

Voice: OOF! Heap big Excedrin headache number 4...

THUD!

[They enter the room and close the door as we return to ringside. Eddie B plays a random track from his crowd noise CD.]

"Crowd": WE WANT PUP-PIES! WE WANT PUP-PIES! WE WAN*click*... LET'S GO LEAFS! LET'S GO LEAFS!

SW: Yeah, a bunch of guys haven't been cutting promos in BOB. So as punishment, a bunch of them have been placed into this next match. Unlike other "professional" federations who fire people for such offenses, here in BOB, we KILL them! Or force them to job forever.

MM: Or both. So let's get to the fun!

["Them Bones" by Alice In Chains begins playing. The lights flicker as if somebody is playing with the switch to the chandeliers. The camera cuts to the back wall, where Studnuts is flicking the switch. He laughs and runs away.]

MS: IT'S....DEATH!

[Death opens the entry-door. He is bony hand clutches his trusty scythe and he slowly walks to the ring, his no doubt scary face is hidden by his long black cloak and hood.]

MM: We don't know who is in this contest. Our notes only say something here about inactive....um.....what's that word Scotty?

SW: Roll?

MM: And that looks like play or blay or maybe even....

SW: Blay?

MS: DEATH HAS A MIC!

SW: And my ears are BLEEDING!

Death: Just for the record, Layne Staley gave me permission to use this song when I recently killed him. Now...

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

MM: Studnuts is opening the double doors of the Ballroom. What is happening.

SW: Hmm. So deep into this show and I haven't made any ball jokes. I'm so disappointed in myself.

MS: IT'S A MOVING TRUCK!

[There is a loud thud.]

MS: FOAFJUPADOUGH ABUHAFDGUKLN. OWWWW!

SW: Keep your voice down or I won't just smash your face into the keyboard next time!

MS: I think I need neck surgery. Dear lord. Heavens to Betsy.

MM: Seth Harker? Seth was driving the U-Haul. But why? Why!

SW: He's opening up the door. Don't get all premature or anything, Mike.

MM: Look! It's past and present BOB....sters. They've all been bound and gagged.

[The camera cuts upstairs to outside Big Daddy Jake's room. The Gold Digger Woman is in the hallway, wearing a black one-piece lingerie number and stockings. Silk ties are hanging from her teeth. BDJ opens the door. He grabs his heart. Death looks up and waves him off apathetically.]

Death: Not yet.

Gold Digger Woman: Hey big boy. Wanna try on some....ties? (She growls like a tiger, or a cat, some kind of feline...)

[Just then, BDJ's Daughter comes out of her room.]

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter: Daddy! You promised to stop having sex with mom's adopted children!

Big Daddy Jake: Well, she's dead. They're all orphans again.

Gold Digger Woman: Yeah.

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter: Say, are you allergic to any poison?

Gold Digger Woman: Why yes, all of them......Hey!

[The girls charge each other and butt heads like rams!]

Both women: OWW!

BANG!

Crowd: ...

SW: What was that?

THUD!

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter: Daddy!

Gold Digger Woman: Meal ticket!

[Every guest on these two very bizarre floors comes out, all either dressed in underwear, sheets or a housekeeping uniform. Everyone's got a gun pointed at someone.]

MS: THIS is unbelievable! I've never seen a sports entertainment pay-per-view like this....in HISTORY!

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter: Who shot Big Daddy Jake?

[Everyone goes back into their rooms.]

SW: All right, this needs to be said....

Seth: What I've captured in this truck are Death's opponents. I've got to go get ready for my match, so Studs. If you'd be so kind as to guard these guys.

[Studnuts walks to the truck with a bat.]

Studs: Hello, jerkweeds. (He bangs the bat on the floor of the truck.) Opponent number one. In this one fall to the death, is a great legend here in BOB. Please welcome....Lord Lestat Von Sexbat!

[Studs gets into the truck and tosses out Sexbat after smacking him awake.]

MM: Wow.

SW: They must have all been drugged tonight instead of bound and gagged. Nice strategy by the iAd.

MS: It's HORRIBLE.

MM: Death, the big man, stares over at Lord Lestat Von Sexbat. Like most big men in the sport, Death has one move and moves very slowly.

[Death looks at Mike.]

MM: Scotty said it!

SW: Hey! He said it! My line was that you don't sell.

MS: Death is powerful! He's very agile for a big man. An immovable force!

MM: Good save. Death approaches Sexbat. He goes for a lockup, but, OH! There's Death's finisher. The Touch of Death!

MS: What a brutal tournament this has become.

MM: Sexbat is down! Death with a cover. One. Two. Three.

MA: The winner of the match, Death.

MS: It only takes ONE BONY FINGER TO THE FOREHEAD. Death is DA MAN!

[Studs smacks the next opponent.]

MA: Next, coming from the back of the U-Haul, here is.....The Ultimate Worrier!

[Worrier looks at the silent crowd.]

UW: Why aren't they reacting? Oh no! AH! Death! (He turns around and sees Studnuts with the bat.) AHH! (He runs to the ring.)

SW: And the Touch of Death takes down the Worrier. His worrying days are over.

[The Hotel Manager walks into BigBoss' room.]

HM: Should I call the coroner?

BB: Why?

HM: Two people have died.

BB: Don't worry about the dead (he says moving closer to her.) What do you think about Mexico?

HM: Mexico?

BB: Ever been? I know some nice people who will hide us until my tax problems blow over.

HM: How can a man as, handsome, as yourself, have tax problems.

BB: Just me and you baby. The money in my bank account may not be as tall as a hill of beans, but...there are beans in Mexico. Maybe we can sell some and it'd make it look like I have more money.

HM: I have a better idea.

[She pulls out a document. It looks legal.]

BB: Whaaaa?

[Back to the match.]

MM: What the? Look who's next!

SW: Can't be!

MA: Coming from the U-Haul, Kurt Angel!

[Upstairs, the four hotel cleaning crew women stops and walk to the railing.]

Crew: YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! WHAT? YOU SUCK! WHAT?

[Studs chases Kurt to the ring with the bat.]

Death: So, Kurt, you thought you could just leave. Well, it doesn't quite work like that.

MM: Kurt clotheslines Death! Oh my.

SW: Oh no. This ain't good. And how about BigBoss getting that hot hotel manager? She puts the ho in hotel!

MM: Scotty!

Crew: YOU SUCK! WHAT? YOU SUCK! WHAT?

SW: Oh, Kurt's distracted by the taunting.

MS: That's HIS move! Death covers KURT!

SW: 1ne. 2wo. 3hree! Yeah.

Crew: YOU SUCK! WHAT?

SW: I don't know what's more repetitive. The chants or the outcomes.

MM: Close call, Scotty.

[Studs tosses out the next victim as the ref rolls the newest corpse to the floor.]

MS: This is THE greatest Wrestlestarrmaniacade ever!

MM: It's also our first ever Tony. Bar isn't very high.

Crew: YOU'RE DEAD! WHAT?

MM: Who is that?

SW: Umm?

MA: Next, from the back of the U-Haul, here is "Smart" Mark Green.

MM: Who? Oh, yeah, that guy was here for what, a week? Why is he here?

MS: My notes say, uh. The initials R.P. Then the word board. And this guy was still on it, making him fair game.

MM: OK. Well, OH, that one's over fast. Death hits the Touch of Death and pins Green for the three.

Ppppppffffffffhhhhhhhhh

MM: I think we all know what that noise means!

SW: Somebody's about to take a massive craparooney!

MM: No. The next opponent for Death is.

MA: Hey, that's my job! STINKBUTT NASTYASS.

MS: Oh, this is spectacular. I never say this, but this is the greatest event EVER fans. I feel sorry for everyone who didn't pay for this. Call your friends and ORDER them to buy this pay-per-view. We'll wait.

[Death and Nastyass pause and look at the camera. Mike pulls out an odd water balloon yo-yo contraption and begins hitting it. Scotty pulls out his scrapbook of Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" pictorials from various fake wrestling magazines. Mark consults his "How To Call Matches" by Sir Simsalot. Studs pulls out a dustbuster and sweeps up some dust from the floor.]

Death: Hey Stinkbutt.

SN: Yeah?

Death: Yeah, so when I went to John Gotti, I'm like, "Hey John, I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse." Then I'm like, "Well, I guess the maggots are gonna be eating Italian soon." BWAHAHAHAHAHA.

SN: That's....funny.

[Death touches SN, killing him instantly with colon cancer.]

Death: Don't patronize Death.

MM: Hey! What'd you do Death? Are you shooting?

Death: Yeah. Wanna feel my next bullet?

MM: Gahyah! No. Sorry sir. I guess we're back.

[Studs kicks out the next victim.]

MA: The next opponent in this tournament, Beastie Al.

MM: He enters ring. Death touches him. Death covers. 1, 2, 3. Death wins. OK boys, copy and paste that, I need a coffee break.

[Crash of headset.]

SW: Oh my.

MA: Next, it's Homicidal Hank. From the U-Haul.

MS: Quite a big showing from U-Haul tonight.

SW: This one should be good, huh Mark?

MS: STUPENDOUS.

MM: He enters ring. Death touches him. Death covers. 1, 2, 3. Death wins.

SW: This is insulting. I have my own show, I should call the action! How does he rate being the number one guy? Disappearing for months, then coming back and getting the top spot handed to him while I entertain for months and months? He is my Hulk Hogan. And I am Randy Savage.

[Hotel restaurant. That same poor BOB fan enters. He sees the Stereotyped Waited on top of Desk Clerk 2.]

Waiter: Did I not tell you I have the rhythm of a black man, the passion of an Italian man, the skin of a Chinese man and the smell of a French man, oui?

DC2: *Coughcough*Don't remember the French part. Is that Pepe LePew?

Waiter: You filthy ayyiyi, ho! I'll whack you if ya fuk wit the family, bitch!

BOB Fan: Screw it. I'm out of here.

[He turns and bumps into a boy with short black hair.

Boy: REDRUM! REDRUM!

MS: Oh no! It's Justin Voss.

[The camera cuts back to ringside.]

SW: Justin Voss! He's back. But not for long. The iAd is cleaning house.

MM: He enters ring. Death touches him. Death covers. 1, 2, 3. Death wins.

SW: I'll be right back.

MS: And Steve Studnuts, that vile, shady character, and a really bad guy, he's back in the U-Haul truck of DOOM! He's got another victim for the unstoppable monster, DEATH! It's...It's...It's! Bobo Q. Fiendish.

[Masked Announcer has fallen asleep in his chair.]

Superspeedyvoice: Heentersringdeathtoucheshimdeathcoversonetwothreedeathwins.

MS: What the? What's going on? The tape broke? Scotty broke it? Has the world completely turned upside down?

MM: Hey Mark, where's Scotty?

MS: Uh...

MM: It appears Bobo Q. is dead. And pinned. But how long will this match go on? I though these special attraction matches were supposed to be fast. Why didn't the Boss just have a battle royal to save time?

[BigBoss' room.]

BB: D'oh!

[The ring.]

SW: Mike?

MM: Scotty.

SW: Ah, damnit!

MS: Here comes Herbert T. Romaine to the ring!

MM: And in a couple of seconds, he'll get the Touch of Death and be pinned.

SW: 1, 2, 3.

MS: Necrophil!

SW: What a sad history of characters. Sheesh!

MS: And listen to that crowd.

Crowd: ...

MM: I'm quite confused. I think the iAd has done something to our fans. They're very stiff.

SW: And, two-dimensional!

MM: My God, you're right! You don't suppose....

MS: TOUCH OF DEATH! Necrophil's DEAD. One, two, three.

SW: Please be over.

MM: Nope, Studnuts has, it looks like three bodies left. But wait, here comes another one. Oh my. It's douja and Sir Ronald Killalot! They charge the ring!

SW: Finally. Let's see Death sell!

MM: douja and Sir Ronald are throwing lefts and rights. And now they're kicking Death. But Death is in total no-sell mode as usual.

SW: Those boys are fighting Death. Something most people fail at.

MS: It's an epic night in BOB!

SW: And we're all going to Hell for this show.

MM: Death is whipped into the ropes. douja and McKillalot execute a double shoulder block! Death is staggered!

SW: Oh, my!

MS: Death's cheating!

[Death shrugs.]

MM: Blatant low blows by Death. There are no rules though Mark.

MS: They'll be singing soprano tonight!

SW: No, they'll be worm food tonight Tony.

MM: DOUBLE TOUCH OF DEATH.

MS: Hey!

SW: Sorry Mike.

MM: jinukilfu9wregprg8-oh

MS: Boy am I glad you stole my line now.

MM: Oww.

[Meanwhile, with no doctor (seeing as how he died after the railing gave way during the Biker/Doctor fight), Big Daddy Jake is not doing too well. Until....]

SMP: Let me help him.

Death: You're my next opponent.

MM: It's Dr. Sillacone M. Plants, the dirtiest booby enhancer in the game! Why does he want to help?

SMP: I've done some bad things. But before I die, I want to at least have a shot at Heaven.

Death: Fine. Studs?

SMP: (He runs for the door.) Nya ha ha! Sucker!

[Death grabs his scythe and throws it at SMP. It misses. But SMP trips over the piece of railing nobody disposed of properly.]

MM: Death is coming for SMP!

SW: It's all over!

Death: Say hello to Satan!

[Back to BigBoss' room. Hotel Manager is still there.]

BigB: And you're sure this is all illegal?

Hotel Manager: Totally. But who cares? You'll have too much money to care.

[There is a flash of light.]

BigB: Oh no, not again!

[Suddenly, Dr. Sillacone M. Plants, fresh off being killed by Death, is in the room.]

SMP: What the? (He looks at BigBoss.)

BB: I hope you're the last one.

SMP: Is this...am I dead?

BigB: Hate to break this to you, doc, but you're already in Hell. Where'd you think you were gonna go?

[BigBoss and Hotel Manager laugh at him, very evil-like.]

MA: And the winner of the KING OF THE DEATH MATCH tournament is....DEATH!

[Cut to the room of Sarah "The Jobber Slayer", Little Good, Kay Fabe, Xamfir and Styles. A dozen white roses are sitting on a desk.]

STJS: (Reading card) Good luck tonight. You won't screw me, but I'll screw you. Love, Trey.

[Sarah launches the flowers and vase into a mirror which shatters.]

Styles: Oh my God! That's such bad luck!

STJS: No biggie. I'm Sarah.

[But she doesn't sound so sure.]

STJS: I don't?

[No.]

STJS: Well, maybe there's some doubtage. I got a little wiggins going on. But if we could get rid of Trey Vincent, it would so simple up my life.

Xamfir: We're gonna go have our match.

STJS: OK.

Xamfir: Styles, wanna come with?

Styles: Yes, sure. Nothing I can do for Sarah now.

STJS: What?

Kay: Kay Fabe says you look hot tonight. Win or lose, you can always sleep with the best damn lesbian in sports entertainment.

STJS: Thanks.

[Kay hugs Sarah and lightly grabs her ass....for good luck.]

STJS: You are one strange lesbian witch sports entertainer who may or may not be possessed by the spirit of a dead fake wrestler.

[They break the hug.]

[Back to the dramatic turn of events upstairs.]

Big Daddy Jake: Things don't look good for me sweetie.

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter: Who could've shot you?

Big Daddy Jake: I think it was...was...her! (He points at the Gold Digger Woman.)

Gold Digger Woman: No! I was with you at the time.

[The door opens. In walk Rich Business Guy and Brooding Rich Guy.]

Rich Business Guy: Hey big guy. Feeling a little dead?

[The women gasp at the heartless remark.]

Big Daddy Jake: 'Fraid so.

Brooding Rich Guy: Man, life SUCKS! (He punches a hole in the wall.) Now I'll never get that MONEY you OWE ME for saving your GIRL'S life.

Big Daddy Jake: Bwahahacoughcoughcough.

Gold Digger Woman: Hey sexy (she says to BRG). See anything you like?

(.)(.)

Brooding Rich Guy: You don't want to get involved with me. I'm all money and rage. Damn I need a drink and some cocaine.

Gold Digger Woman: Got some in my purse. Let's go talk.

Brooding Rich Guy: Whatever.

[They leave.]

Big Daddy Jake: Hey....where's my Will?

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter:: Didn't you break it off with him?

Big Daddy Jake: Not Will. My Will. The one I leave all my stuff to people with.

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter:: I dunno. But it better still have my name on it.

Big Daddy Jake: Yeah, about that...

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter:: Hey Rich Business Guy, you single?

Rich Business Guy: As soon as my wife doesn't wake up from the coma...yeah.

Big Daddy Jake: Why is everyone hooking up as I die? Screw this place!

[Big Daddy Jake dies.]

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter:: Oh, Daddy! I'm sorry. I love you. Damnit, I love you! (She cries on his belly.)

Rich Business Guy: You wanna go?

Big Daddy Jake's Daughter:: Yeah. OK.

[BigBoss' bed.]

Hotel Manager: Now I know why they call you BigBoss!

BigB: Now I know why...uh...you've got so much money?

Hotel Manager: Yeah.

[Ringside.]

SW: I hope this is going somewhere. All these characters and what have we learned? BigBoss has a big penis. Like he didn't write that line himself.

MM: He signs your paycheck....occasionally.

SW: Blow me Mike.

MM: Next match. Time for.

[Garbage's "Queer" begins to play, which of course brings out Kay Fabe. She's decked out in shades and has hear red hair pulled back, except for two strands in front, making it look like she almost has long sideburns. But not really. And she's got her black Domino T-shirt and black workout pants. Then of course, there is Xamfir. Who is all Limp Bizkity tonight. With his backwards red cap, baggy pants and poser wear. And the cliched rebel Little Good is coming along too. They all walk to the ring in a row.]

MA: The following match is a six-man....er, six-person, um....five men and one woman match? Whatever. It's six jobbers. Let's get it on! Introducing first, representing that crazy little town known as Cloudydale, Conn. They are Sarah's supporting crew.....Kay Fabe, Xamfir and Little Good!

["Straight Outta Jobton" by the J.W.A. bringz out tha J.W.A. boyeeee! Here come tha new villainz in black, tonight reprezented by Sleazy-C, Mr. X and Dyzlexic Avenger.]

MA: And there, er, they're, I mean....THEIR opponents....from Jobton, they are keepin' it real in deux deux-O deux....Sleazy-C, Mr. X and the Dyslexic Avenger.]

Styles: What did he just say?

MM: And the boys get into the ring.

MS: And it's broken down into a DONNEYBROOK!

MM: That didn't take long, unlike the rest of this night so far.

SW: How are you coming up with these great sarcastic lines tonight?

MM: What else did I have to work on for the last five months.

SW: I look forward to the day you retire. Or I read your obituary. Either or.

MM: Jealous much?

SW: Yes (pouts).

Styles: Sleazy-C and Xamfir are hitting at each other but Xamfir keeps missing the crafty and shorter Sleazy, who's hitting and running like all gang members. It's East Coast vs. West Coast for a new generation of gangs.

MM: Is Kay still The Domino?

SW: Probably.

MM: Well, Kay is pounding away on Mr. X. A punch. Another. A third right hand. She spits in her palm and smacks down Mr. X.

MS: Nice smack by Kay!

MM: And there's an elbow drop.

MS: Kay with an elbow drop.

SW: Well I guess I really am in Hell tonight.

MS: Scotty guesses he's in Hell. He must not like repitition. Every other fed does though.

Styles: Dyslexic Avenger got off to a bad start fighting Little Good when he went for the pin at the start of the match.

SW: BWAHAHA. Did you see that? Little Good just threw a haymaker but he missed and hit himself in the shoulder!

MS: On our SHOWCASE pay-per-view! You'll only get the best action in BOB.

SW: And he says it without laughing. Not even a smile. Bischoff must've killed your spirit, huh?

MS: No comment.

MM: Now Dyslexic Avenger is trying to hook Little Good's leg, but he's standing up!

Styles: This is EXTREME....ly BAD.

MM: Kay hits the Domino Rally on Mr. X!

MS: That's her move!

SW: I prefer to say hit Kay's Bottom. Something I'd love to do.

MM: But Sleazy makes the save.

SW: Xamfir has his panflute. He nails Sleazy! The ref's gonna call for the DQ!

MM: Wait. Mr. X grabs the PP.47 and shoots Xamfir! Oh man. Ref calls it...

SW: Tit for tat. TIT for tat.

MM: Even.

[Somewhere in the hotel near an exit. Death is standing there, smoking a cigar.]

Urine: O fuk. I mist are match didnt I? U gona kill me?

Death: No. We go back. Lots of great memories.

Urine: Well fuk u then. Im gonna go hav ruff sex with a bunch of 16 year old hores.

Death: No. I got you a present.

Urine: What.

[Death hands Urine a dictionary.]

Death: You can't be a generic jobber anymore. It's time for Urimania to flow wild in BOB. Brother!

Urine: Dictionary?

Death: I'm also gonna teach you what spell check is.

Urine: Spel chek?

Death: Spell check.

[Ring.]

SW: Did Russo warm up here?

MM: I'm beginning to wonder. So many non-sequential nonsensical bits...

MS: It's the Greatest Night of My LIFE!

MM: The fight's still on.

Styles: Dyslexic Avenger winds up with a right and delivers a solid left to Little Good's jaw! Cover.

MM: One, two...no.

MS: Should've known he wouldn't win with a move LIKE THAT!

SW: Where's that duct tape they're gonna use later?

MM: Outside, Sleazy-C tosses Xamfir into the fans. Cut-outs! I knew it!

MS: Sleazy punches a fan. Dear God! That's not, right!

MM: It's a tree! Get over it.

Styles: Oh brother....I think I'm gonna start doing informercials.

SW: And now he's using a cardboard cut-out on Xamfir. Xamfir sells it like a pro! Good for him. Hey look! A The Rock cut-out. The Rock lays some smack down on Sleazy-C. Kay Fabe was using that cut-out. Oh, and now she sees who it is and rips the head off! Kay Fabe has killed The Rock!

MM: Bet The Domino is quite pleased with...uh, herself?

MS: Now all five men and one woman/man combo are fighting amongst the fans. You never know what you'll see in BOB!

MM: Yeah. A big brawl in a sea of cardboard people. God bless our fed.

SW: Uh, I think God damned our fed.

MM: I know, I know.

SW: Little Good just belted a cardboard cut-out good! He missed DA, but hey...

MM: Where's Sleazy going?

MS: Mr. X has a chair and cracks Xamfir in the face. And now Kay Fabe. Oh my. She may be broken. Kay Fabe might have been broken by that chair shot.

MM: Oh brother!

SW: What...oh. You're joking.

Styles: Dear lord. I think I better stick to Sarah matches from now on.

MS: Little Good is back over the rail. Wait...isn't that Steve Studnuts?

SW: It is. He's back out. AGAIN.

[The cardboard cut-out Little Good whacked good now has a bandage on its head. It's hiding behind Studnuts, looking over Studs' shoulder.]

Cut-out: That's the guy Mr. Security Guard.

Studs: 'Fraid I'm gonna have to ask you to come with me til the police can come arrest you.

Little Good: For what?

Studs: This fella says you assaulted him and he's gonna press charges. Look, he's injured.

LG: He's bloody cardboard.

Studs: Well who you think made him bloody?

Cut-out: Take him away officer.

[Studs has the bat and shoves Little Good's chest.]

Studs: Move.

SW: Wow.

MM: I don't know what to say.

Styles: I have a couple suggestions....

MM: Well, Little Good has been taken out by Steve Studnuts to be arrested for assault and battery on a cardboard cut-out.

[The cut-out is thrown to the floor. It was Sleazy-C providing the voice.]

MS: Well....I never! It was all a scam. I bet the cardboard cut-out wasn't even really hurt!

SW + MM: ...

...

...

MS: The ref is distracted!

SW: So dumb.

MM: Sleazy's got the PP.47. He tosses it to Dyslexic Avenger. He aims the gun and fires! Direct hit!

SW: He just shot himself with peepee. Good work.

MM: Mr. X takes the gun. He pistol whips Xamfir. He puts the evidence down his pants. Cover! Here comes the ref. One. Two. Three!

SW: The jobbers....won?

MM: Good God. Where am I?

MS: The landscape of our world is forever changed!

[Dark room.]

BD Jake's Daughter: Did you hear something?

Rich Biz Guy: Yeah. Go check it out.

BD Jake's Daughter: OK.

[She grabs a robe and gets up.]

BD Jake's Daughter: *ChokechokeAAHHRGHchokecoughhackARGH*

Rich Biz Guy: *Zzzzzzzzzzzzz*

[She falls on RBG.]

Rich Biz Guy: What the? Oh no! My belt is wrapped around your throat! This can't be good!

[A door opens and closes.]

Rich Biz Guy: Well....better chop up the body and flush it down the toilet.

[We cut back to the iAds' locker room. Seth is doing stretches and practicing his "Evil Heel" sneer, Trey is reading "Big Gazongas" magazine and Steve is talking on his cellphone. There is a knock at the door.]

Trey: Who is it?

Voice: domninos piza fro u soem fan sentu gyus a pizzza u wantit or what

[Trey opens the door and throws a punch without looking.]

WHACK!

[He closes the door, pizza box in hand.]

Voice: ow i thnik u breok mi nose u dikwed

Trey: Pizza, anyone?

Steve Studnuts: What toppings are on it?

TV: Let's see... looks like tuna, anchovies, scrambled eggs, pineapple, mushy peas and olives.

[Steve and Trey exchange disgusted looks.]

Seth: I'll have a piece!

Trey: It's yours... (He tosses the box to Seth.)

Steve: (Shaking his head) Trey, sometimes I worry about that boy... he just ain't right!

[Back to ring.]

MA: The following contest is a cliched winner gets a shot at the tag titles as long as the bookers don't forget about the stipulation match depending on the outcome and future angles match.

[Eddie B. cranks up "Rock 'n' Roll: Part 2" by Gary Glitter.]

MA: And here comes team number one. The team once (or maybe still now) known as Pain and Pleasure, they are a part of Totally Face, Jean Bannister and Sir Hungalot! Oops. Forgot to say that Jean is 6-5 and weighs 245 pounds. He's from Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada, and tonight he is decked out in a Maple Leafs jersey with "BANNISTER" on back and the ambitious #99, black boxing trunks, and wrestling boots. Carries a hockey stick.

SW: Is he just reading off the bio page? Sheesh. Lazy summa….

MA: And Sir Hungalot is 6'3", weighs 250 pounds and is from Paradise, Pennsylvania. Tonight, he is wearing black boots, an odd pair of three-legged jeans, and a white T-shirt with green lettering: "I always hit the G-spot"

MS: This match is of HUGE importance to both teams.

SW: Especially Sir Hungalot.

MS: The stakes, COULDN'T GET any higher.

SW: And neither can your voice.

[Tha J.W.A.'z song "Straight Outta Jobton" hits the system and…uh, that's all.]

MA: And their opponents. Reprezentin' the JWA, Super Mollusc and Bivalve.

SW: Yeah, yeah, keepin' it real in 2002.

MM: Well, this match should be short.

SW: All our matches should be short. If they even take place!

MM: JWA definitely not the most talented group in the world. They are facing a very experience team.

SW: Again, especially with Sir Hungalot.

Bell: Ding, ding, ding.

MM: Now the bell gets a credit?

SW: Just because it can't say anything besides ding doesn't mean we should discriminate from giving a speaking part to an inanimate object.

MS: And there's the BELL.

SW: Yeah, right on the table there. Never seen one before pal?

MM: It's gonna be Sir Hungalot and Bivalve to start.

SW: Sir Hungalot with a drop toe hold. He's going for the G-spot on Bivalve!

MM: This one should be just about over…

MS: Oh no, in comes Super Mollusc for the save. Stiff….kick right to the Sir Hungalot's head. And the match has broken down.

MM: Record time for one of our tag matches I think.

SW: What do you expect with a rush job.

MM: Hmm?

SW: Oh, you know…

MM: Oh, right. Hey, where'd that hockey stick come from?

SW: Uh oh!

MM: Bannister aims. And he connects. And the hockey stick has been bent in half over the head of Super Mollusc.

SW: How can a piece of wood bend in half? Are we using fake weapons again?

MS: That was BRUTAL fans. Please, pull the camera back.

SM: Hey, you got a razor blade I can borrow?

[Bannister feels his shorts and jersey up and down.]

JB: Sorry. All out.

SM: Damnit.

SW: Oops too late.

MM: Good grief.

MS: It's a BLOODBATH in the ring tonight!

MM: Umm, Mark…

MS: Yes?

MM: Never mind. You're hopeless.

MS: Hopelessly SHOCKED at the amount of blood Super Mollusc is losing!

SW: OK, Mark, there is a difference between 'protecting the talent' and flat out making an ass out of yourself. Guess which one YOU are doing.

MS: I'm an ass!

MM: Wow. He admitted it.

MS: And you can kiss me.

SW: What? Mike, this guy is starting to worry me. Stop coming on to me!

MM: He was trying to be clever Scotty, not come on to you.

SW: Are you sure?

MM: Well…no. But I'm hoping for the best.

SW: And finally, Super Mollusc falls down. And now Bannister swings at Bivalve, but misses.

B: All right, wait a minute, wait a minute.

JB: What?

SH: What?

B: It's quite obvious this match sucks. So I have an offer for you.

JB: We're listening.

SH: What? I wasn't listening.

JB: *Sigh*

B: Generic Ref, come here for a minute.

GR: What do you want?

B: I propose that the four of us all lay down, and whoever can stay down for a 10 count will win the match. *wink wink*

JB: No way.

B: What's the matter? Chicken? Buck, buck, buck, bigUCK! (He begins flapping his arms and walking around like a chicken. Super Mollusc tosses him a chicken outfit by chance and Bivalve starts putting it on. Within a minute, as he keeps clucking, he has a white chicken suit on and resumes clucking.) Buck, buck, buck, buck, bigUCK!

JB: Are you calling us chickens?

SH: I think he's trying to call us chickens!

GR: Ya think? What you gonna do about it?

JB: We can't be out tricked. Fine we accept your wink wink challenge.

MM: This is so strange. The rules of this match have just drastically gotten more confusing since I swear somebody got hit with a fake hockey stick.

SW: A foreign object. It's a fake stick from Canada.

MA: Ladies and gentlemen, this contest has ended in a draw.

MM: Hey!

MA: What?

MM: The match isn't OVER yet!

MA: It isn't? Oops. Hope that doesn't ruin the suspense.

[The four wrestler all stare down at Masked Announcer, arms crossed.]

MA: What? I can't follow this crap! Let's GET IT ON!

[The four guys suddenly get into a huddle.]

Wrestlers: Ready! BREAK.

GR: What's the plan?

JB: OK, me and Sir Hungalot, and

MM: Hey, the mic is picking up the outcome!

SW: Who cares.

JB: the JWA are gonna all lay down. Then when you forget how to count, I'm gonna yell 10 at you, then we'll both raise our arms. Then the JWA will get counted out. And we will be named the winners in this wink wink 10 count match.

GR: Oh, OK. Everyone ready?

[The lounge.]

Hotel Manager: There is a killer among us.

Dum-dum-dum......

Virgin: Am I still a virgin as long as I just did oral?

Desk Clerk: Who did you?

Hotel Manager: Can we focus on murder?

[Rich Biz Guy enters the lounge, his nice suit is all stained. He puts a bloody knife into his inside suit-jacket pocket.]

Gold Digger Woman: Well, me and Mr. Broody were having wild sex. It couldn't be us. I'm now carrying his baby.

Brooding Rich Guy: Another mouth to feed. Great! Life sucks. This hotel sucks. It's like I'm trapped in Hell!

Cleaning Crew: YOU SUCK! WHAT?

[Kurt Angel runs into the room, looking behind him angrily.]

KA: Damn you ALL!

[He grabs the knife from RBG's suit-jacket.]

Hotel Manager: He's got a KNIFE!

Gold Digger Woman: He must've killed my old lover and his daughter.

Ex-Model: Daddy Jake's daughter is dead?

Rich Biz Guy: She is? I thought she went out for a swim....yeah...a swim.

[Kurt throws the bloody knife down.]

KA: How did BOB end up here?

Hotel Manager: Trey Vincent booked this hotel.

KA: Trey Vincent, huh? Well, I'm gonna go speak to him. (He leaves the lounge, the Cleaning Crew goes after him, chanting.)

Desk Clerk 2: I'd never kill a woman. Men, I'm bored with.

Stereotyped Waiter: I am a great lover, no?

Desk Clerk 2: No. You have the endurance of a white man for all your other traits.

Waiter: Damn you ho. You're gonna sleep with the fishes, bitch! I need some 8-ball G.

Hotel Manager: Look, people are dying here. I'm gonna find out who it is. Unless the murderer kills me next. Then I'm kinda screwed.

[In front of an elevator. BigBoss presses a button and waits. The elevator is on the 10th floor and not moving.]

Boy: Redrum! Redrum! Lou! Lou!

BigB: Lou? (He thinks.) Uol?

Boy: No. Lou!

BigB: Um....

Boy: Ah! Illway! Illway!

[BigB gasps! Then, the elevator clicks open. BB looks at it. A sea of white papers begins to pour out from inside. An elevator full of...papers. But what kind?]

BigB: AHHHH! (He runs away.)

MA: Ladies and gentlemen! This next contest is for the "Four-Play" Tag Team Titles and will be fought inside the confines of a STEEL CAGE!

MM: It will? I don't see a cage!

SW: Is it invisible?

[Pause for thunderous crowd pop. Still waiting. Finally, the crowd gives off a nice "golf" clap out of pity.]

MA: Introducing first, the challengers…

MM: What's going on here? We don't have a crowd!

SW: I don't know. But I don't like it. I suddenly have a very bad feeling.

MA: First introducing the challengers. From Washington, D.C., I think, please welcome Sculder and Mully, the Agency!!!!!!!!

[Eddie B cranks up "The X-Files (Dance Remix)" which brings out the dark and mysterious duo. Mully is allegedly talking to someone on a cell phone. They enter the ring by lifting their legs up, putting them inside, then swinging their upperbodies, then swing their other leg through the ropes, all the while no doubt telling gravity to go f*** itself. Possibly. But doubtful.]

SW: I thought this was supposed to be a Whoever Manipulates the Referee best wins match. I thought we were gonna have celebrity judges!

MS: This is quite perplexing. Fans, I don't know what to say.

SW: Uh oh. Did you look at the next couple of pages?

MM: No, why?

SW: Look.

MA: AND NOW! The BOB "Four-Play" Tag Team Champions. Brandon and Jim….Totally Bitch Smacking Packaged!! Oh yeah, they weigh about 330 pounds combined if my math is right and they haven't gained or lost any pounds. And they're from, Kent, Ohio. They are the Kent, State KREWWWWWWWWWWWW.

[Eddie B. cranks "That Britney Bitch Totally Wants All Our Packages." An ear-piercing crowd noise, very similar to the noise from earlier outside the hotel, as if somebody is replaying the noise now, because they are. Oops. Kinda got lost in thought there. Anyway, somebody replays the noise from outside the hotel from earlier tonight and it kinda sounds like crowd noise or something. And the boys make their way to the ring with their tag team titles.]

MM: This one's been a long time coming! Look at these men stare each other down!

SW: No they're not, they're staring at Generic Ref….didn't you see that big, stringy booger hanging from his nostril?

MS: Hi guys…

SW: IT'S MARK SHILL! WHOO HOO!

MM: I now know what you meant. Oh no. He's our celebrity judge?

Coma: Nurfle, Walk Billy Baldwin's water buffalo?

MS: Isn't he soooooo cute? (Mark pinches Coma's cheek)

MM: Hey! We have a high profile match going on here! Brandon and Sculder already slugging it out in the middle of the ring! Sculder spat at Brandon!

SW: Screw that. Mark, I gotta know. Are you knocked up? Got a bun in the oven? Rabbit die? What's up?

MS: What….in the world….are you talking about, Scotty?

[Everyone sighs.]

MM: This is such bull.

SH: Read it top man. Script problems I blame on you. You didn't proof this.

MM: Fine. Brandon with an Irish whip, Sculder ducks a wild clothesline, off the far side, rebounds back….tries for a TOMMY RICH PRESS! Brandon caught him! Scoop powerslam! And the crowd roars it's approval, well…there was a slight rustle through the arena.

SW: SHUT UP, MIKE! There's more important things going on than this match. Mark, are you gonna bust out a curtain climber in 9 or what?

Coma: Flugelhorn got caught in the blender. MAN THE TORPEDOS!

MS: Scotty, why are you insinuating that I'm pregnant? Who told you that?

MM: Brandon with a forearm rocks Sculder into his own corner, tags Mully who charges into the ring and right into CANADIAN VIOLENCE! CANADIAN VIOLENCE! Brandon sends Mully soaring face first into the cage wall… didn't take long for the steel to be a factor in this one! Mully goes right for the blood capsule! We're not even a minute in!

Coma: Blood capsule?

SW: Steel cage? I mean. Uh. Something about Mully not wanting to blade with Jim in the ring. You know, open cuts and stuff and not knowing where Jim's been. And quit avoiding my question…. is the stork going to pay you a visit?

MS: Who told you that?

SW: I asked mine first!

MS: Okay, the answer is no. Now who told you that lie?

SW: Billy Polar…

MM: Tag to Jim!

Coma: Nipsy Russell ate my garbage. Dangling participles for once stood up for democracy and hid the 'shrooms. POINK! (falls over)

MM: Can we all get on the same page? (sound of papers shuffling) There's two different conversations and then Coma going on here. We have action to call!

MS: Hmpf… I'll deal with Billy later…

SW: ….And break the news to him?

MS: Scotty, I'm about to become very un-lady-like.

[Everyone sighs again.]

MM: Well, while all that non-wrestling related jargon was going on… Mully turned the tide and now has The Big Sir playing, as "Not" Keith from Schmucksdotcom would say…playing Ricky Martin!

SW: Which show are we ripping this script off from. I mean. Morton, you idiot. It's Ricky Morton!

MS: Jim just took a bone jarring uppercut from "Backboard" Mully.

SW: Damn that find and replace. BWAHAHAHAHA. This is unbelievable.

MS: Mully makes the tag to Sculder and now it's "double team time while the ref is reprimanding the non-involved wrestler and trying to get him to stay in his own corner." Let him go, G.R….it's a cage match!

Coma: Nipsy Russell ate my garbage. Dangling participles for once stood up for democracy and hid the 'shrooms. POINK! (falls over)

MS: Could somebody flip Coma's page for him?

MM: The Agency really working over Jim here, he needs a tag badly. Looks like he may have pulled a groin muscle during that last exchange, The Agency are pulling no punches tonight!

SW: Pulled groin muscle? That's a broken leg for any other guy!

MM: Jim with a crawl between Sculder's legs! Scampers to his corner, THERE'S THE TAG!

MS: Get ready for the gratuitous "one man wrecking crew" bit that happens in all tag team matches when a hurt wrestler finally makes a tag to his fresh partner.

SW: SHHHH! You're spoiling it!

Coma: Hugh Grant had sex with P-Diddy who was dressed like a prostitute. Cauliflower ear spanked watermelon…. disco. Neep.

SW: I take that back, say anything you want as long as it keeps HIM from saying a word.

MM: Brandon's in! Steamroller clothesline turns Sculder inside out! Brandon has Mully and sends the already bleeding agent face first into the chain link again! He has Sculder, pointing to the thick barred blue thingee wall! Listen to this crowd, they wanna see it!

MS: And there he goes…

SW: Sculder sent into the iron bar wall of this mix and match cage! He could be busted open as he rolls over face down, while Brandon waves his arms and distracts the fans while Sculder juices indiscreetly!

MS: Way to keep the secrets, Scotty. Should I call NBC again?

Coma: POINK! Goldfish in my pillow. Fuzzy dumplings ran across Interstate 5, intercepted Johnny Unitas, and micro waved Nell Carter's left bosom.

SW: BWAAA HAA HAA! Sorry…

MM: Brandon cross checks Mully against the fence as The "Backboard" tried to scale the wall. Sculder struggles to his feet….SLAP SHOT! The cover! Where's Generic Ref?!

SW: He's busy clearing the ring of Sculder's blade…

MS: *ahem*

MM: ONE…TWO…THR--NO! That delay by Generic cost the KSK! OOOOH! Spin wheel kick by Mully gave Sculder a breather… and Brandon a fat lip! Brandon had just stood up when Mully managed that desperation move! G.R. moves Mully back to his corner…Sculder's already reaching for a tag.

SW: Brandon also going for a tag, but he's not going to make it… Sculder has tagged in Mully and he's on Brandon like cheap loafers! Clubbing forearms across Brandon's back… stands him up and tries for a right, blocked by Brandon! Brandon retaliates with one of his own….

crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

MM: Yikes! Mully dropped to his knees after the right from Brandon and unloaded…

SW: Man, he got him right in the stick and pucks!

MS: Low blow or cheap shot would suffice, Scotty.

Coma: Bagpipes make my balls itch.

SW: Can somebody turn his mic off?

MM: Mully now regroups and here comes Sculder back in. Double team coming up and Brandon's sent into the cage! Now The Jocks are going after Jim and attacking him in his own corner! Brandon's laying face down…

SW: Blade time for ole Brandono…

MM: STOP THAT, SCOTTY! Hey look! Jim's had enough! He comes in the ring and bulldozes The Generic Ref who rolls across the mat like a lumpy beach ball! The Agency maul Jim until a bloodied Brandon joins in! Brandon takes Mully and sends him for a ride…b-i-I-I-I-i-g back body drop! Jim with a zinger of a right decks Sculder! Who's legal?!

SW: Like it matters… G.R. is out like a light!

MS: Was that before or after he got ran over?

MM: Jim has Mully…HE HITS THE G-SPOT! Submission could be coming!

MS: Hitting the G-spot always makes me submit.

SW: Humina! I cannot believe I just read that. This is so wrong. So very, very, wrong.

MM: G.R.'s still out! Sculder nails Sir Jim in the back of the head with a drop kick… sending him face first to the canvas! Sculder now rams Brandon into the cage again for good measure, double arm DDT on Jim! He places his partner over the former adult film star!

SW: Wow. Mully was in porno?

MS: And just in time for Generic Ref's alert unconsciousness to wear off…. he's crawling towards Mully and Jim….

crowd: ONE....TWO.....AWWWWW!

SW: What crowd? What cage?

MM: Brandon broke it up! Well, he kinda fell on the two after staggering around blankly in the ring after tasting the steel. But it works for me!

Coma: Pontoon up Scotty's butt makes Jack a dull boy.

SW: HEY!

MS: Generic's still a little woozy, he hasn't moved since attempting that last three count. He's lost total control of this one!

SW: That's dumb! When has Generic EVER had control of a match!

MM: Sculder's back in and pounding away on Brandon! Mully joins in! Jim now fighting to get to his feet...double clothesline as The Agency turned to face him! Jim pauses a minute to catch his breath...lazy powerbomb on Mully! G.R. tries again!

crowd: ONE....TWO.....AWWWWW!

SW: Sculder with a match saving legdrop nails Jim! Sculder now trying a half hearted bodyslam...got it! He covers Jim!

crowd: ONE....TWO....AWWWWW!

MS: How long does the near pin thingee last? I gotta pee.

Coma: I already did. NEEP!

SW: DAMMIT! I thought Monroe spilled his water bottle!

MM: Brandon flings his body into The Agency and clears everybody out! He just jumped without any regard for his own well being! He's back up...piledriver on Mully! The cover!

crowd ONE...TWO...AWWWWGETONWITHITALREADY!

SW: Mully slipped out! Must have been all the blood! But he really could stand to bust another capsule, he just looks sunburnt now after the first one has all but washed off! Brandon now sending him across the ring with oft used Irish whip...Brandon lowers his head, Mully caught him with a punt kick to the jaw! Brandon wobbles back and falls through the ropes...Sculder somehow managed a swinging neckbreaker on Jim! The agents are motioning for opposite corner post!

MM: NO! They're now going to the top of the cage! Look at the camera flashes!

MS: That's Flunkie with a strobe light...who you kidding?

MM: MASS CASUALTY OFF THE TOP OF THE CAGE!

crowd: AWWWWWWWWWW!

SW: AND THEY MISSED IT!

MM: Jim rolled out of the way just in time! Hooks the far leg on Mully...Generic Ref with the slow and deliberate "it's gotta be over after that blown finisher" count!

crowd: ONE..............TWO.............................THREE! (WM III Steamboat over Savage-esque pop)

MA: Ladies and gentlemen! The winners of the match and STILL! "Four-Play" Tag-team Champions! The KENT STATE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . KREWWWWWWWW!

MS: Whew! I'm busting a gut here, where's the lady's room?!

(He bolts outta there like a Chinese fire drill)

SW: BWAHAHAHAHA.

Coma: Spridel and Chim Chim stole my Studabaker. John was always jealous of Ponch cause his ChiPs pants were tighter.

SW: I agree, Coma. Helluva match!

MM: I don't think that's what he meant.

SW: Oh? And since when did you become the expert on Comaspeak?

MM: Since never, but he WAS talking about Erik Estrada's pants for Pete's sake! What's that got to do with a wrestling match?

SW: Bet he had to wrestle to get 'em on! HA!

MM: Hoo boy, you're a regular Carrot Top, aren't ya? (rolls eyes)

SW: Ah, admit it, Mike…you know I'm all that and a witty bag of chips.

MM: I wouldn't say witty, but another word that rhymes with witty comes to mind.

SW: Don't you go there, Monroe…

[Trey Vincent's suite. Kurt Angel knocks on the door. Er, someone knocks on his door. Vincent goes to see who it is. He opens the door. It's Kurt Angel!]

TV: I've been expecting you.

KA: I'm gonna give you a piece of my mind, buster.

Cleaning Crew: WHAT!

KA: I don't know who you think you are.

Cleaning Crew: WHAT!

KA: Putting me in that death match.

Cleaning Crew: WHAT!

KA: And this crazy hotel.

TV: Huh?

Cleaning Crew: What?

TV: This hotel? Huh? This is a great place. Huh? I said it's a great place. Entertainment, Kurt. Something you know nothing about. Do you think you're special. Huh? Do you? Huh? Well you're not. BOB is completely insane. This hotel is insane. Perfect match. We've had more fatalaties than any other sports entertainment federation. The iAd knows entertainment. For example.

[Trey goes to the refrigerator and pulls out some of Mike's Hard Lemonade. He twists off the top and pours it on Kurt's head.]

TV: That's funny.

KA: You think so? (Kurt grabs the bottle and smashes it into Trey's head. Trey goes down and grabs his head.) Who's laughing now?

[Kurt leaves.]

TV: God. Damn. Him!

[Rich Business Guy's room.]

Rich Business Guy: I swear I didn't kill her. I just chopped her up.

Brooding Rich Guy: Why must you burden me with this? My own crippling mental pain is enough, now I've got to deal with yours. Damn you!

[Brooding Rich Guy pulls out a gun. Then Gold Digger Woman runs in.]

Gold Digger Woman: No, don't shoot him!

[She runs to him and pulls his arm away. Which accidentally makes his finger hit the trigger.]

Gun: BANG!

Brooding Rich Guy: Oh, NO! NOOOOOO! Why me! I've just killed my lover and unborn baby. I've got to get out of here.

[He throws the gun down and runs away weeping. RBG runs after him.]

Gold Digger Woman: Umm. Not....dead...oh wait...now I ....

[Back to the ring.]

MA: The following contest is a handicap duct tape on a (fishing) pole match for the Swiss Army Title. First, making there, er, they're, I mean, their way to the ring, here are, representing Totally Face, it is Josh of the Kent State Krew and Violent Pacifist of The Three Guys, making tonight, the combination of......Violently Kouragis! Josh and Violent Pacifist...

[The duo enters to that hot new track "If They Can Shoot A N'Sync-er Into Space (Why Can't They Do That To All of Them?)" since it's such a cool song title. The guys put one foot in front of the other, keeping their legs stiff, yet bendy at times, and it propells them forward and ever closer to that big square with ropes around it.]

MA: And now, introducing your, er, yur...I mean, you're!

Josh: You were right the first time!

MA: I was? Oh. OK. Introducing your BOB Swiss Amry Champion.

MM: Amry?

MA: What? That's wrong? That's what my card says. The BOB Swiss Amry Champion, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer."

[Garbage's "Temptation Waits" begins to play, and then all boys may rejoice as the hotty opens the door and comes into view.]

MM: Sarah's walking out with a 15-foot ladder!

SW: Why? The fishing pole is only about eight feet in the air. And it's taped to a turnbuckle. She could just tear it off.

Styles: Sarah's gonna take it TO THE EXTREME! Two jobbers Sarah must slay. She is the Slayer.

MM: Umhmm. I see. OK. Well.

SW: The Swiss Army Title. She's held that title since, what, January? That's a pretty good reign. What's her phone number.

Styles: Scotty! Please. Will you STOP!

SW: And the bell rings.

MM: I didn't hear it.

SW: Trust me, it rang already. What's this? Oh! Banana time!

MM: What the?

SW: Are they insane? They didn't want to watch her swallow it?

Styles: What's wrong with VP and Josh?

SW: Well, they've got Sarah flat on her back and are giving it to her good!

MM: Scotty!

MS: What action!

MM: Now, Sarah has to duct tape both opponents to win, right?

Styles: Yep. Trey Vincent is trying to SCREW Sarah, in one way or another.

SW: Gotta have goals in life.

MM: So, who would win if VP or Josh wins?

MS: Well, I'm guessing since it's handicap, they'd be co-champs.

MM: Oh good, something new...

SW: It is the Swiss Army Title. Those knives have a lot of things attached to them. Maybe the title will be like the knife, with a bunch of wrestlers attached to the title?

MS: It'll be groundbreaking and EARTH SHATTERING.

sw: onLY IF you WALK near them.

MM: Whoa, are you OK Scotty?

SW: Sorry, can I get a glass of water?

MM: Sorry, I don't think there's any here.

SW: Could I at least get a Band-Aid?

MM: No.

Styles: Here comes Sarah. Elbows to both. Kick. Punch. Kick. Punch. Elbow. Hoodan conrana! Another hoodan conrana!

MM: She goes outside for the ladder. She slides it inside. She picks it up and hits VP in the stomach. Then cracks the back of his skull. Oh my--

Styles: GOD! What impact!

SW: Now she's going after Josh. Punch, kick, but Josh blocks and picks her up. He rams her into the corner. He chops her! And again! Oh, what a lucky hand!

MM: Eye poke by Sarah!

MS: No rules in this wild match!

MM: Sarah has the duct tape! What a grab with her legs!

Styles: She used the top rope to put her legs over her head, spread them open wide and grab the duct tape between her legs and pull it down before returning to a vertical base.

SW: Oh, the flexibility she just displayed. I am so aroused right now.

MM: But Josh clotheslines her. And Sarah is down. Josh picks up Sarah and suplexes her onto the ladder!

MS: There's no way she can get up from that.

Styles: And Sarah gets up. Albeit, slowly.

SW: She's resiliant, a lot of endurance.

MM: Josh gets up the ladder. He's climbing up. He's up top.

SW: Leg drop!

Styles: WHAT A MOVE!

MM: But Josh's risk may have hurt his ass.

SW: You are correct. But what about Sarah's chest? What about HER CHEST!

MM: VP's got the duct tape. He's dragging Sarah to the ropes. He's got one of her arms ready. And here comes the

SW: Bondage!

MS: Oh. Sarah's got her second wind. She kicks VP away! She rips her arm to FREEDOM!

SW: Hey Josh! Can I borrow that tape?....Josh!......Fine....ignore me.

MM: Sarah with a super thrust kick to VP's face. And there's one for Josh. They're both down. Now she's going for the ladder.

Styles: Her mind is so EXTREMEly smart! She's trapping VP in the ladder. And now she lays Josh on top! She's gonna tape them in there!

MS: Then she'll win!

Styles: Oh, I've taught her well. I am the best Commentator on the planet.

MM: If we had fans, no doubt they'd erupt into boos right now. Why you ask? Well, Trey Vincent is running down....oops, even as I was saying that he got into the ring. He DDTs Sarah!

Styles: Kay, Xamfir, Little Good! Sarah's in trouble!

[Elsewhere....]

LG: Come on mate. This is bloody stupid.

Studs: Hey, you're the crazy punching machine, jerkweed.

KF: Kay Fabe says you should let my person go!

Xamfir: Yeah.

Studs: Steve Studnuts says act like the chickens you are and cluck off, ya dig?

[Ring.]

Styles: Damn it!

MM: Vincent picks Sarah up. Oh no! He hits Coming Down on Sarah.

Styles: An over the shoulder, belly to back piledriver! Oh my GOD!

SW: What's he want? He's coming our way!

MS: Heavens, no!

MM: He just took my water!

SW: You bastard! You had water!

MM: Now he's using it to wake up Josh and VP? Is he helping them?

SW: Ya think?

Styles: The fans...would be irate if they were here. I bet all our viewers at home are pissed off.

SW: Ya think?

MM: They usually are. Low quality product and all.

Styles: Right. Sorry.

MS: The team of VP and Josh are dragging Sarah by the hair to the ropes.

SW: Girl. Pretty. Mine. Ugh.

MS: Oh no. THEY'VE GOT THE DUCT TAPE.

MM: This one is all over!

SW: And Sarah is all tied up. Vulnerable. *Ahem* So tempting...so...

Styles: Easy Scotty.

MM: The ref's counting.

Ref: One....two....three.....uh, four?

Josh: Yeah.

GR: What's next? Screw it. Ten!

[Ring, ring, ring.]

MA: The winners, and NEW Swiss Amry Champions, Violent Pacifist and Josh.

MS: What a rollercoaster ride of emotions this night has been.

[Parking lot.]

Ex-Model: You can't leave.

[Brooding Rich Guy gets in his Lexus.]

Brooding Rich Guy: I don't want to hurt anyone else. I've got to get out of here before my crippling bad luck strikes again in this pit of filth!

[He starts the car.]

Yelling voice: Get back here bitch!

[The car goes into reverse. He backs out of his spot quickly and heads toward the street, tires squealing.]

Body hitting car, then ground: THUD!

Ex-Model: Oh, noooo!

[Desk Clerk 1 runs into the scene and stares down at something in front of the vehicle. The car door opens.]

Brooding Rich Guy: Oh no. Why me? I'm cursed!

[Desk Clerk 1 looks at Brooding Rich Guy and smiles.]

Desk Clerk 1: You killed the Virgin! I thought it was impossible to kill the Virgin in plots like this. But YOU did it!

[Brooding Rich Guy collapses to his knees.]

Brooding Rich Guy: I'm a killer! AGAIN! Blood is all over my hands!

Desk Clerk 1: And your car.

[Kurt Angel's door.]

KA: Who sucks now? WHAT?

[The door opens. The camera goes inside to find the harassing Cleaning Crew handcuffed to the king-sized bed posts, mouths taped shut.]

[The roof. Rich Biz Guy is up there, looking down at the busy street below.]

*Ahem*

[Rich Biz Guy turns around and sees the Hotel Manager.]

HM: I have a message for you.

[She hands him a white envelope. He takes it. *RIP* *POOF* He pulls out a piece of paper. On it in hand-writing: I KNOW WHAT YOU DID THIS SUMMER! RBG gasps!]

[Check-in counter. Desk Clerk 2 is working while Stereotyped Waiter is there.]

Waiter: Give me one last chance. We're soulmates. Let's go have some chicken teriyaki, listen to some Barry White and have some sex mommy.

Desk Clerk 2: I'm not your mommy.

Outside: THUD!

Waiter: What the hell was that?

[They run out the front door of the lobby.]

Desk Clerk 2: Oh my God!

[It's Rich Biz Guy. He's splattered on the sidewalk. Cut to the elevator. Brooding Rich Guy and Ex-Model are in there.]

Ex-Model: I'll comfort you. Come to my bed.

Brooding Rich Guy: Fine. If I must! Nothing good comes of anything.

[As the floor hits, we see Hotel Manager, her arms extended as if she just pushed something. She quickly stands up straight and smiles.]

Hotel Manager: Oh, broody. I've got a message for you.

[She hands him a white envelope. *RIP* *POOF* I KNOW WHAT YOU DID THIS SUMMER.]

[Ringside.]

[Suddenly, a woman's scream is heard.]

SW: Oh no! I hope the Hotel Manager is OK!

MM: Yeah. OK.

[The iAd's room. Seth Harker puts on his leather trenchcoat and sunglasses. He checks himself in the mirror one last time, then turns and nods to Steve and Trey.]

Seth: All right guys... time to entertain the humanoids.

Trey: Have fun, Seth...

[Steve casually opens the rear door of the locker room as Seth prepares to leave the room. He opens the front door and steps aside. StreetMime II runs into the room with a blood-curdlingly silent warcry.]

SM II: "..................!!!!!"

[He gallops right across the room and out the back door. The sound of a jobber falling down four flights of stairs fills the air, with the iAd wincing at each heavy THUMP. Finally all is silent again.]

Seth: Right, that seems to be that... later!

[XXXSTMere Machinesa room. BigBoss is there?]

BB: Hey X.

XM: Whatad het fuk doa ua want?

BB: A favor. Come with me.

XM: Eatad my cock bitzhc!

[BB grabs him.]

MA: This contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, the special guest referee! Ladies and gentlemen... but especially the gentlemen... NURSE HEIDI!

[Heidi hits the ring, resplendent in a black-and-white striped micro-mini bikini... it's so small there's only room for one stripe of each color.]

MM: Well THIS should help pop a buy-rate, if nothing else!

SW: It's got me popping something, Mikey!

NH: (Faintly) I heard that, you pig!

MA: Humina humina humina... *ahem... Introducing at this time... the partittipants of the... the parTICipants of the match!

SW: Neville boobed!

MM: Yep, he made a tit out of himself, all right...

MA: Firstly... The Smartest Man in BOB, because he went to Harvard, you know...

SW: Chris Nowinski?

MA: BILLY POLARRRRR!

[There is a brief period of silence. We cut to Eddie B's booth to see him frantically checking the BOB website to find out Billy's entrance music. Geocities helpfully crashes on him, so he makes a random selection on his CD player.]

"Crowd": WE WANT FLAIR! WE WANT FLAIR!

[Billy Polar head emerges from the curtain. He looks understandably confused. Back to the booth, Eddie yanks the "Crowd Pops" CD out and replaces it at random. we cut back to the aisle, where Billy is grudgingly entering to "The Locomotion" by Kylie Minogue. This would probably be a crowd-pleaser if our fans weren't quite so... cardboardy. He drops Heidi a lecherous wink and makes a few suggestive and expressive hand gestures to her.]

MA: And his opponent... representing the Incurable Apathy Disorder and on loan from Blood, Sweat and Chairs Wrestling... "THE DARKSIDER" SETH HARKER!

["The Right Time" by the Hoodoo Gurus' (With extra scratching and twiddly bits by Eddie B) plays at high volume. Several of the "fans" fall over from the bassy vibrations. Seth emerges to a pre-recorded round of boos.]

SW: Hey, Billy's the face! That's a first!

MM: It certainly is...

Off-screen voice: Excuse me, coming through... lady with a baby! Move it or lose it!

MM: What the heck? We've been joined by two... for lack of a better word...robots!

Tom Servo: Joined? I don't think so! "Joined" gives the impression that you're staying at the table with us... beat it, pal!

Crow T. Robot: You heard him, Whatbody... make like a leafblower and blow... uh, leaves! Um.. Get the heck out of here!

SW: You want a piece of me, hardware? I'll take you both with one hand behind my back! I'll...

NH: Just go, Scotty... we'd like to get this match over sometime before the end of the month!

MS: But we can't leave commentary of a pay-per-view quality match to two puppets! We need a human point of view, too!

Crow: Be careful what you wish for!

Voice-Over: ONETWOTHREEFUR!

[A medley of Ramones songs plays as Coma Riverdances down the aisle.]

SW: I do not believe this...

Coma: Pop goes the echidna! Ring the bell, Monsoon and let's get to oyster-shucking!

***Ding, ding, ding***

Crow: If that's for me, take a message and I'll call them back!

Tom: And this match is off and stalling! Hey, did the ring announcer call Billy Polar "The Smartest Man In BOB"? I'd debate that...

Crow: Why?

Tom: He still WORKS for BOB, doesn't he?

[Meanwhile, the match has finally gotten officially under way. Seth and Billy try to pop the crowd (Some hope!) with a quick counter wrestling sequence full of arm-lockerry and reversals. It's described thusly by Coma;]

Coma: Yurk! Look at those hamsters run! Toasted mini-muffins in the Yellow Sea! Flippity-floppety, flippety-floppety... neek! Twiddle my nipples, Ed Asner! Poink!

Crow: Yeah, what he said...

Tom: Observe... Two sweaty, half-naked men rolling on the floor... It's like a Ken Russell flick come to life!

Coma: Billy Polar with the Flying Hamdinger! He's rocking the barn now! Jumpy-kicky! Duh. Yur!

[Cut to GBH]

GBH: Duh. Quit stealing. Duh. My. Stuff. Yur.

[Cut back to Coma]

Coma: (Sings) Oh, Suzanna! Oh don't you cry for me! 'Cause Seth just bitch-slapped Polar, and he kicked him in the knee!

Crow and Tom: Yee-HAW!

[Seth picks up Billy P and delivers a spinning piledriver.]

Tom: That's a tactic the BigBOSS'll like... if Billy gets a concussion he might forget how badly this place sucks and re-sign for another year!

Crow: If I was Billy, you'd have to give me actual brain-damage before I'd do THAT!

Coma: Paint the house with custard? I'll need a bigger unicycle for that, Mrs. Jones!

[Seth hooks up Billy and nails a series of vertical suplexes.]

Crow: ...And somewhere in Canada, the Benoit family lawyer prepares to sue...

Coma: He pins onetwohegothimnohedidn'tcomeonref!

Tom: Whoa, take a breath, Vince McMoron!

[Billy reverses a whip and sends Harker to the ropes. Seth ducks a back elbow and hits a leg lariat to send Billy to the mat.]

Crow: Hey, Harker... Parody. Look it up, dude!

Tom: He has NO idea what BOB is all about, does he? You want I should throw pudding at him, or something?

Coma: Polar with the Scrotum-mangler! Left hand, right hand, elbow, HIKE! Oh, the humanity, my brownies are burning! JUDDDOOOOOJUMPY-KICK!

[I'd recap the action, but Coma summed it up pretty nicely for a change. Apart from the bit about brownies. Whatupwidatt?]

Tom: Whoa, Billy Polar is a house of smoke!

Crow: Don't you mean a house of fire?

Tom: No, I mean he hangs out with douja backstage...

Coma: INCOMING!

THUMP!

Crow: Why did you headbutt the table, Coma?

Coma: Tweet tweet, I spy a little butterfly! (Falls off chair)

Tom: He makes a valid point, Crow...

[In the ring, Billy Polar gets aerial with a SPRINGBOARD ELBOWDROP OF DOOM! It gets 2. He tosses Harker over the top rope and hits a quebrada.. a quedabr.. one of those grab-the-top-rope-and-slingshot-yourself-onto-the-other-guy moves. They brawl on the floor, with Harker taking two head-first trips into the ringpost. He surprises everyone by not blading... yet. Back inside they go. They blow a blind charge and REPEAT THE SPOT in the other corner! I HATE that! Really, I FUCKING WELL HATE THAT! Stupid Americans!]

Tom: Hey, when did "Not" Keith become the disembodied narrator for BOB?

[Since they could meet my price... I have to eat as well, eh? Oh, and a Harker bodypress gets 2.]

Coma: There's a lemming in my Cap'n Crunch! Is this the free gift? I wanted a SlugMan Secret Decoder Cushion!

[That was Coma-ese for "Harker with a Mexican Armdrag", I think...]

Crow: Well, this match is lucha-riffic! Too bad there's not a REAL Mexican here to do that move.

Tom: Yeah, even Insano Manos' from Arizona...

[Did we already do the "Insane Hands?" joke yet?]

Crow: Only about 42,000 times, "Not"....

[Damn. Harker uses his trademark Springboard Guillotine Legdrop With Extraneous Capitialisation For Extra Effect for 2. He climbs the ropes and signals to the stand-up fans.]

Coma: Here comes the calvary!

[I think Coma meant... "Herre comes the Nightbringer!"]

General Custer Impersonator: CHARGE!

[What the hell?]

Coma: And here comes Mr. Jordan! Hello, where's the jam? Try a cream bun, they're fluffy!

*Ding, ding, ding*

Tom: Huh? Nurse Heidi called for the bell!

NH: You're damn right I did! I'm throwing this match out... no contest!

[But why?]

NH: Four reasons. A: It's too silly for words. B: I'm freezing my nipples off in this bikini and I haven't got to do anything that bears repeating during the whole match. C: Billy keeps trying to cop a feel when I bend over to count the pinfalls.

Crow: And what's the last one?

NH: The stupid BigBOSS has writers block again and can't figure out how the hell he's going to end this.

[Figures. Call it 1/4*. No, make it DUD because I never got to shout BONZO GONZO!]

Coma: Poink!

[Cut back to the iAd's locker room. Three assorted jobbers are lying in assorted positions around the room. Man, do they want that "AYOOYFM" title or what?]

Steve: Well, that sucked...

Trey: Like you expected a classic?

[He opens the door. BILL, The Dsylexic Avenger and Super Mollusc run into the room with a medieval battering ram. Their momentum carries them outh the back door. Cue the sound of three jobbers and a tree trunk following StreetMime to the basement.]

[Dining room.]

Desk Clerk 1: So many funerals. I've lost my cousins, nieces, nephews, ex-wives, girlfriend, mother, father, ex-girlfriend and ex-lovers tonight. So many funerals, so little time.

Hotel Manager: Well, we're gonna erase all the bad with this.

[BigBoss and XXDtere Machinea enter.]

BigB: Let the wedding begin.

Stereotyped Waiter + Desk Clerk 2: Huh?

[Hotel Manager pulls out an Uzi! Talk about your shocking plot twists!]

SW: The Hotel Manager chick is the killer? What is she up to?

MM: I've been lost since the start of this endless show. Can we please have some sports entertainment now?

MS: IT'S TIME FOR THE MAIN EVENT.

[Back to ringside.]

MA: Here ye, hear ye. This here is the main event of this pay-per-view and it is for both the Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title and the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! The rules are complicated. The first fall is for the hardcore title. The second fall is for the other belt. But it will be fought under sports entertainment rules. Which I can't read because this show is running so late we're probably gonna pull a Halloween Havoc '98. Introducing first....

["Dare To Be Stupid" by Weird Al begins to play.]

MA: From Cleveland, Ohio, weighing 213 pounds when he's wet and wearing boots, the challenger, the Geek!

[The Geek + feet movement = arrival at ring.]

MA: And challenger number two.

["All Hail The New Flesh" by Strapping Young Lad begins to play.]

MA: From Minneapolis, Minnesota, weighing 265 pounds, he is the Sports Entertainment Icon, and leader of the incurable Apathy disorder, please welcome, the AYOOYFM Hardcore Champion. Treyyyyyy Vincent!

[Vincent walks out, ignoring the cardboard cut-outs stares and heads to the ring.]

MA: And now....the reigning....and defending, OWTTM champion. He is, Bohemoth.

[Since Bohemoth isn't on the Roster page, Eddie B had no idea what song Bohemoth comes out to. So, at Mr. Vincent's request, "The Ghostbusters" theme song played Bohemoth out to the ring. Why? Mr. Vincent wanted this detached narrator to make a comparison between Bohemoth and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from said movie. That's why. That's the best you're gonna get at this time of day though.]

[Bell rings.]

MM: And Vincent goes after Bohemoth. He punches him again and again. He tries to whip the man to the ropes, but Bo won't move. Geek rolls up Vincent. One, kick out.

SW: Bohemoth head butts Geek down. No alliances here.

MS: Vincent picks him up. Oh and plants him. What a move. Cover. One.....two.....three, no Geek kicked out. Should've known he wouldn't beat Geek this early.

MM: Bo whips Vincent to the corner. And now the Geek. He comes running.

SW: Any day now.

MM: Still running.

SW: The jiggling is so hypnotizing.

MS: And Bohemoth hits both men with the super BELLY OF DOOM!

MM: Both men are down!

SW: One....two.....

MM: Shoulders are up. Vincent and Geek both roll outside on opposite sides of the ring. They're going for plunder. Here come hockey sticks, baseball bats, chairs, golf clubs and other assorted weapons.

SW: Uh oh, Steve Studnuts and Seth Harker have just arrived.

MM: Wasn't there a stipulation if the iAd interfered?

SW: I think that got thrown out the window.

SW: What else is new?

MM: Vincent has a bat and hits Bo in the belly. The bat bounces back and hits Vincent in the face! Vincent goes down!

MS: Geek from the top rope. Chair to the top of Bo's head with a thunderous crack.

MM: Bo is staggered.

Geek: FORE.

SW: Geek's got the golf club. OH MY!

MM: He just hit two balls about 300 yards!

SW: And Bo crashes down to the mat.

MM: Cover! One...two.......Seth Harker is in the ring! Oh no. He breaks up the cover. He puts a chair on Bo's face. Leg drop! He covers Bohemoth! One....two.....THREE!

MA: The winner of the AYOOYFM Hardcore Title, Seth Harker! Let's get the sports entertainment portion of this match....ON!

SW: Billy Polar's in! He goes for Harker but Harker ducks and Polar clotheslines The Geek!

[YOU'LL GET….orange pants, that's what you've got.
(music break)
Three squares and an Army cot….
(music break)
Three years till your next parole….
(music break)
Too bad, that's three to go…
(music break)
CAUSE YOU'VE GOT! Orange pants! Orange pants in jail!
You'll get, ORANGE PANTS! Orange pants in jail!
You've got, ORANGE PANTS! Orange pants in jail!
You'll wear….ORANGE PANTS! ORANGE PANTS IN JAIL!
COME ON! Come on….]

MM: It's BigBoss and the Hotel Manager!

BigB: Hello Trey. I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. BigBoss!

Hotel Manager: Now that everyone has mysteriously died and we got married...that means I am the only living person named in my secret husband.........(this is a dramatic pause kids)............Big Daddy Jake's Will, making me the sole inheritor. That means BigBoss can pay the wrestlers! You see, Daddy Jake was my secret husband and since everyone else is dead, I'll get all his MONEY.

BigB: Which means I have money and can finally have my wrestlers respect me. Well, listen to me. At least until the money runs out. But right now? You're never going to win MY title. Not only am I booking myself into this main event now, I'm gonna use your sports entertainment rules to WIN IT! Because damn it, this is MY FED! And if I have my title, that means you won't. Unless we have a pathetic double pin to end the show....

TV: Shut up and sports entertain, tough guy!

[BigBoss runs down to the ring, but Harker clotheslines him. Studnuts and Harker stomp the living hell out of BigBoss. Luckily, there isn't much living hell in him.]

MM: Meanwhile, Billy Polar and The Geek are brawling away from the ring. And Bohemoth is in serious pain from that golf club assault.

MS: IT'S TOTALLY FACE!

SW: Oh no! Another fustercluck main event. The title's still on the line. And here come TV loyalists the J.W.A. But wait! They're attacking the iAd too! The iAd is being beaten senseless by the J.W.A. and Totally Face!

MS: This IS AMAZING!

SW: And here comes Sarah, Kay Fabe and Xamfir! I think money is the cure for the cancer known as the iAd.

MM: Thank God. Closure to this angle. Something even those idiots in WCW could never do. Kill the nWo. Not in BOB. No siree. We give closure. BOB is strong.

SW: Xamfir and Kay have Vincent up. Sarah picks up a chair.

MS: Extreme revenge for Sarah here.

MM: But who's gonna win the title?

CRACK! CRACK!

MM: What the?

SW: WHAT!

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

MM: I don't belive what I've just seen!

MS: Oh NO!

SW: BigBoss is back in the ring.

CRACK!

SW: Why, Sarah? Why!

MM: Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" has taken out the J.W.A., Totally Face, her best friends and saved the last shot for the BigBoss, who was just added to this match.

MS: This is the blackest day in the history of this greatest extravaganza of all time.

MM: Trey Vincent stands up. Sarah drops the chair. They smile! Oh God, they embrace. Don't tell me Sarah is the ultimate screw job Trey Vincent promised!

SW: What a heel turn. But why? Why Sarah, you bad, bad, girl! We demand answers.

MM: But the match isn't over. Trey Vincent picks up the BigBoss and slams him. And Sarah's clearing the ring of bodies.

SW: Wow, and she cleans too! Wonder if she can cook.

MM: TV bounces off one side of the ring. He bounces off the second side. He hops over the BigBoss to the third side of the ring and now off the fourth side. It's a Dusty shuffle! Oh! Big Time Fist Drop below the belt!

SW: The iAd isn't dead.

MM: Cover!

MS: ONE!

SW: TWO!!

MM: THREE!!!

[Bell rings.]

MA: The winner and new holder of THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS.....TREY VINCENT!

MM: This iAd is celebrating, but I am disgusted. BOB will never be the same again. The iAd really is in control now. How will the BigBoss fight back? We're out of time. Good night from here!


©2002 BOB Wrestling! Bad to the last dot.

 

© BOB Wrestling!

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