Brawlers On A Budget

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[We fade up on the Satellite of Love, the usual set where Trey Vincent, Seth Harker, Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot shoot Mystery Sports Entertainment Theatre 3000. Three of the four usual suspects are there.]

TV: Hello fuckwits and welcome to Classix 14. I am Trey Vincent, along with Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot. And this morning, we've been given the honor of providing commentary on a show from the BOB archives.

Crow: Great. Maybe later we'll get the honor of a rectal exam or a root canal.

Tom: This is odd, Trey. No Seth. And this isn't an MSTie?

TV: Nope, boys. I sadly lost the commentating lottery this week. So I figured I'd recruit my two favorite sidekicks, after Seth Harker and Steve Studnuts, of course.

Tom: Gee, Trey, that's kind of nice.

TV: Well, that and you don't cost anything extra out of the budget. Whatbody's demands were ridiculous.

Crow: Of course. Alright. Let's get to it, Trey. What is this crap?

TV: I pulled out a random tape. We're about to find out.

Tom + Crow: (Disappointed) Huzzah.

[We cut to the footage. We see a children's birthday party. Toddlers and pre-schoolers clad in colourful dungarees sit around a table eating jelly with oversized spoons.]

Tom: There is no spoon.

Crow: There is no jelly.

TV: There is no booze! Crap. I need to make a phone call.

[Mom carries in a big birthday cake to high-pitched cheers, and lays it before a particularly chubby infant in a pointy sparkly party hat.]

Mom: There you are darling... now blow out the candles.

Crow: Nice foreshadowing. I'm sensing this whole show is gonna blow.

[The kid puffs up his cheeks and breathes in to blow - and a man in a top hat and frock coat bursts from the cake!]

Tom: When Willy Wonka attacks. Tonight on FOX.

[As the children and adults scatter in terror, he dangles a fob-watch before the birthday boy's eyes and speaks in a deep, sinisterly sonorous voice...]

Man: Look into my eyez... your mind becomes blank and empty...

Tom: Just like Trey's!

Child: Ga-ga?

Man: You are now under my control. You will think what I tell you, hear what I tell you, see what I tell you. You will see men jumping off turnbuckles, dressing as animals, and being squashed by pianos, professional wrestlers taller than a mountain who worship the conveniences of the world. You will see wrestlers who eat more than some entire countries, wrestlers who thrive on bad song and wrestlers who lust for glamrock. You will see the strangest, freakiest band of professional wrestlers that have ever been assembled in one place.

TV: This is Classix 14! Oh, which one of you is gonna be doing the play-by-play?

Mom: Oh my God, he's been BRAINWASHED! And on his BIRTHDAY!

Crow: Oooh! Mememememememe!

TV: Crow!

Crow: Yes!

[The mother drags the hypnotist away from her screaming child and we fade to the outside of a big, semispherical domelike structure, where about ten dollars worth of pyro is set off in a series of damp squibs. And from the heart of these explosions emerges a striking logo...]

Classix Logo



TV: Drunk off my mother—

Crow: Shut your mouth!

TV: I'm just talking about Classix.

[The pyrotechnic show fades out and we cut to the inside of the Millenium Dome in Greenwich, London, UK, packed to the rafters by nineteen rabid British fans.]

TV: See what happens when John Cena is your champion?

Crow: I'm so glad I watched all those old tapes the other night. I'm so prepared to be the play-by-play man.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages!

TV: D-Generation X proudly brings to you—

Tom: Wrong fed, Trey.

TV: Oh.

Announcer: Are you ready?

Fans: Uh...

Announcer: Are... You... Ready???

Fans: Uh...

Announcer: Our opening contest is set for one fall and is a double menage-a-trios! Introducing first, already in the ring to my right, weighing in at 262 pounds, he hails from Tokyo, Japan... HI KARATE!!!

Tom: *Cough*Jobberintro*cough*

TV: I love menage-a-trios matches. But I prefer the sexual kind.

Tom: I believe it's actually menage-a-trois, Trey.

TV: Ah, so they've mastered French like Insano Mano mastered Spanish.

Crow: Insane hands!

[Hi Karate leans into a vague martial-arts stance to a vaguely unimpressed reaction from the fans. He is, of course, a vaguely muscular Caucasian man who has applied lots of make-up in a vain attempt to look Japanese.]

Announcer: Our second challenger hails from Desparation, Nevada... THE CRAZZZZED POSTAL WORKER!!!

["Bullet with Butterfly Wings" sounds through the speaker-system as the one and only Crazed Postal Worker shambles out, firing randomly into the air with his uzi. ]

TV: Now that's a gimmick.

Tom: It's also a felony in 48 states. California and South Dakota are so behind the times.

TV: Apparently Minneapolis hasn't gotten that memo either, Tom.

[The Postal Worker dances around the ring, firing into the air until his ammo clip is exhausted, as his music fades out and is replaced by "Chick Magnet" by MxPx.]

Announcer: Thirdly, he's from Lynchburg, Virginia, stands seven feet tall and apparently weights 425 pounds... of love... the one and only "LLLLLLLLOVE MACHINE" SSSSSSSSSSSEAN COXXXXXXX!!!

Crow: And Trey is handed fish in a barrel once again.

TV: Hey, I know his brothers. Craven and Harry.

Tom: And fish guts go flying in every direction.

[A disgusting fat slob waddles out and surveys a definitely uninterested audience. Spotting a couple of old dears playing cards beside the guard-rail, he mutters "hot chicks!" and heads off to get their numbers.]

Announcer: Next, hailing from Moscow, Russia, and weighing 454 pounds, here is the BIG FAT GREEN COMMIE!!!

Crow: Are you now, or have you ever, sucked?

["Back in the USSR" by the Beatles plays as the Commie marches into the arena. Four inches shorter than Sean Cox yet a few pounds heavier, he is clad in green trunks and a red headband decorated with a hammer and sickle. Oh yes, and his skin is green too.]

Tom: He looks deathly sickle.

Crow: Yeah. Last time I saw somebody that green, Trey puked on me.

TV: I don't remember that.

Announcer: And our final challenger tonight is the one... the only... man from Providence, Rhode Island. Here is... the "DIAMOND COLD" DISCOOOOOOO DISCIPLE!!!

["Jungle Boogie" by Kool and the Gang plays as the Disco Disciple boogies out to a modest crowd reaction. He's a skinny, heavily-tattooed white man with massively poofed hair and a "DD:DC 3:16" T-shirt.]

TV: Let me guess. His finisher is the Stone Diamond Ratingskiller?

Announcer: And finally...

Tom: I thought Disco was the last finally?

Crow: There's a leak a jobber dam!

["Listen to what the Man Said" plays through the sound system and the fans actually give a small heel pop!]

Tom: Don't push me. Push a Heel Pop!

Crow: Now in everyone's favorite flavor: blue!

Announcer: He weighs 225 pounds, he stands exactly six feet tall... THE MAN!

[The Man strolls out, bald head shining under the spotlights, his skinny championship belt strung over his shoulder. ]

TV: Give that belt some steroids!


Crow: There's the bell and we're ready to get this one underway. Except for Sean Cox, who is trying to get his swerve on with the ladies in the third row.

TV: I heard his catchphrase was "I like Cox."

Tom: I liked his other one better. "This Cox For You."


Crow: Gentlemen, as it just so happens, I have a Top Ten List of Sean Cox's rejected catchphrases.


Crow: From the home office in next Sunday A.D. The Top 10 Rejected Sean Cox Catchphrases. Here we go.
10. Cox Brings the Dairy Home!
9. Nobody Better Lay A Finger On Cox!
8. Cox...It Does A Body Good
7. M'm M'm Good!
6. Cox. It's What's For Dinner!
5. Ladies, Please, Don't Squeeze The Cox!
4. Cox Satisfies!
3. He Likes People. People Like Him. And People Who Like People Like Cox!
2. A Day Without Cox Is Like A Day Without Sunshine!
And the number one rejected Sean Cox Catchphrase: Choosy Mothers Choose Cox!

TV: It's all downhill from here.

Tom: Ain't it the truth...

Crow: Oh! Oh no! The Crazed Postal Worker has leapt for the Big Fat Green Commie! He's... he's trying to bite his ear!

TV: Why didn't he just shoot everybody and pin one of the scrubs? Then this crap would already be over.

Crow: What a match! What a Classix! What is this? Hi Karate going after The Man and...! What a move!

Tom: It's just a hammerlock.

TV: These old tapes...was Vince McMahon doing the play-by-play?

Crow: He sure was. What else are we gonna see here at Classix?

TV: This is gonna be a loooong show.

Crow: And look at Disco Disciple dancing, haw haw haw! Commie and Crazed Postal Worker battling it out! Oh what a move!

Big Fat Green Commie: Take that, imperialist capitalist scum!

Crow: Look at that! He could have him here! One! Two! Three! NO! Disco Disciple stopped stroking his hair long enough to break that up.

Tom: This is odd. Crow is describing everything but the moves. That's all well and good for a normal fed, but for BOB?

TV: It's Classix crap. Trey Vincent doubts anybody will read it anyway. Fuckers.

Tom: Did you say 'read' or 'watch'?


Crow: What is this? The Man has Hi Karate all locked up in that move! I think this one's all over, but no! Here comes Disco Disciple again.

Tom: Special guest referee Marlee Matlin apparently didn't hear that loud smacking sound on the mat.

Crow: Big Fat Green Commie back on the attack on Disco Disciple. Look at that! Crazed Postal Worker is using his uzi as weapon! Well, using it to choke, actually, since it already is a weapon. The Man can't breathe! C'mon, ref!

TV: After this match, The Man will be known as The Corpse.

Crow: Unbelievable! C'mon, ref! The Man can't breathe! Crazed Postal Worker and The Man, oh my! Over the top rope! Unbelievable!

Tom: Trey, we've got to give him some more lines.

TV: Why? It worked for Vince for years.

Crow: Both men picking themselves up. And they're going right back at it again! Look at that! Postal Worker is feeling the effects of that one!

Tom: This Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. In one corner...Communism. In the other...Disco...two entities which nearly destroyed the world, collide!

TV: With ultra-vague commentary by Crow.

Crow: And look at Disco dance. Haw haw haw haw!

TV: Trey Vincent kind of likes this. There is so much crap going on, and Crow isn't saying one move name. It's tremendous. Trey Vincent may have to make him our flagship announcer. Replace that idiot Styles, with his hootieconranas and Asia rocksaults.

Crow: Yes! Yes! Yes!

Tom: Stone Cold Diamond Cutting Chartbusting Apocalypse by Disciple on somebody. I can't keep track of this crap.

Crow: One! Two! And! No! Commie breaks it up. What a match! What else are we gonna see on Classix? Look! They're still brawling out on the floor! Haw haw haw!

TV: You having fun, Crow?

Crow: This is Claaaaaaasix!

TV: I'll take that as a yes.

Crow: Oh! What a collision! Postal Worker whipped The Man right into Sean Cox!

TV: Trey Vincent has seen enough Cox for one day.

Crow: Look at that. This fight is moving from ringside into the ring. What a move! The Man is down. Crazed Postal Worker is down. Disco Disciple and Hi Karate have both been squashed by the Big Fat Green Commie and they're both down!

TV: Commie is being pummeled by Cox.

Tom: It's a Cox blowout sale! All innuendoes must go!

Crow: Cox hits a piledrive!

TV: I wonder what Sean's mother thought when her little Cox were inside of her.

Tom: Probably, get these Cox out of me!

TV: Have we beat it to death yet?

Tom: Pretty darn close...our run-on gag is pretty limp.

Crow: What a match! What a Classix! What is this! Yes! Yes! Yes! One! Two! Three! No! Hi Karate breaks it up.

Tom: Was this match taken from the archives of D-U-D?

TV: Chops. Crap. Moves. So bored...Trey Vincent hates doing this crap. The shows Trey Vincent books are far more entertaining.

Crow: One! Two! No! The Man has Cox all wrapped up! Cox is trying to wiggle free, but The Man has Cox all tied up!

Tom: Stick a fork in him. And a knife. And a chainsaw while you're at it.

TV: Cox is getting limp.

Crow: And look at The Disco Disciple dance! Haw haw haw haw! This is Brawlers On a Budget! And now Postal Worker is dancing! Hold on. That's not the Crazed Postal Worker. It's Dude Postal Worker! Dude Postal Worker baby! Oh yeah! What a match! What a dance contest!

TV: Who's this scrub running in?

Tom: According to this...a guy off the washing powder commercials.

TV: Huh?

Tom: That's all it says.

Crow: Cover! One! Two! Three! It's over! A guy off the washing powder commercials has done it!

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match...THAT GUY OFF THOSE WASHING POWDER ADVERTS!!!

TV: Trey Vincent is close to being fed up. Trey Vincent taking a dump for two hours would be more entertaining than this, crap.

Tom: Are you constipated?

TV: None of your business, hardware!

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, the following bout is set for one fall of tag team action! Introducing first, formerly hailing from the Corporate Offices of Monstrosity Incorporated, but more recently based in downtown Manhattan, they have a total combined weight of five hundred pounds... Yes Man #1... Yes Man #2... THE YES MEN!!!

["I Am A Yes Man" (Billy Gunn's old entrance music with just one word changed) plays as the Yes Men walk out to the boos of the fans. They're both large, muscular men in Marnani suits and smiley face masks. #1 is at 6'7" a couple of inches taller than #2, but that's the only real difference between them.]

Tom: I didn't know Skeeter and Leary had worked here.

TV: Please. These guys are too tall to be mistaken for those midgets.

["Semi-Charmed Life" by Third Blind Eye.]

Announcer: And their opponents... introducing first, from Cloverville, Indiana, he weighs 345 pounds and represents the Joe Luck Club... ULYSSES NATHAN "U.N." LUCK!!!

[U.N. Luck waddles out to a modest pop. He's a short, fat, ugly guy vaguely reminiscent of a gorilla. He progresses a few feet then trips over a cable. Struggling to get up, he somehow manages to get his foot tied up in the TV cable and can't get free.]

Announcer: And his tag team partner for tonight... weighing in 468 pounds, the proud product of his farmyard and once again head of his herd... THE BULLLLLLLLLL!!!

[The big fat guy in the cowsuit waddles out and stands beside U.N. Luck as some cameramen try to free him. Finally, Luck is released and they start walking together towards the ring.]


[Subtitles: Let's kick some tail!]

TV: Trey Vincent could use a new leather jacket. Maybe we could turn this scrub into something useful.


Crow: It's gonna be the Bull and Yes Man #2 to start us off. Oh my. All kinds of offense, but the Yes Men have nothing to show for it.

Tom: Well, at least they haven't lost their smiles.

TV: Bull-shit. Bull-shit. Bull-shit.

Crow: In comes Yes Man #1. Here comes a double team. But nothing is working for this team. Now they're talking about it.

Tom: I hope they decide to just leave and make us get big smiles on our faces.

TV: You don't even have lips, Servo.

Crow: Now one of them gawd, he's got a...he's got a roll of quarters!

Tom: That evil spawn of hell.

Crow: No effect on the Bull. And here's a frying pan! Oh what a frying pan shot! No effect! And now he's got's he got a steel chair!

TV: Meanwhile, the referee is eating a banana and letting all this illegal stuff go on.


Crow: No effect. Incredible! That steel chair had no effect whatsoever! Hey! Where did Yes Man #2 go?

TV: Hopefully somewhere quiet to deep throat a shotgun.

Crow: Wait a minute! What is this! He's got a cannon! He's rolling it in here! He's aiming it at the Bull! Surely he can't withstand this! Yes Man #2, lighting the fuse...


Crow: What a collision! And the Bull is still standing! Unbelievable!

Tom: Eye poke of DOOM! The Bull won't be seeing red...or anything for that matter now.

Crow: The Bull's got him up and...oh what a move! And there's a tag to U.N. Luck. He's like a houseafire! What amazing offense you're seeing here on Classix 14! Oh my! Luck just lost his balance.

TV: That man is so hated that even his shoelaces hate him.

Tom: Hate, hate, hate!

Crow: Look at that! U.N. Luck is unbelievable! Oh my! What a move! But here comes Yes Man #2! Oh!

TV: Trey Vincent would repackage this scrub as U.F.N. Suck!

Crow: Yes Men are in total control right now. Great tag team tactics on display here! What a move! One! Two! And Luck kicks out. Oh no! He slipped on a banana peel! C'mon, ref! Pick up your garbage!

Tom: What's the old cliché? Sometimes you gotta suck to suck a suckload of suck?

Crow: Here we go. They've got him up and!


Crow: Oh no! A piano has somehow fallen from the roof of the arena and landed on U.N. Luck and the Yes Men!

TV: Yes! God must've been really pissed.

Tom: It's raining pianos. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Crow: All three men are trapped under the remains of the piano now, and- wait a minute! The Bull is coming in. The Bull puts his hoof on the piano! The Yes Men are trapped underneath it! One! Two! Three! Yes! Yes! Yes!


Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this match, the team of U.N. LUCK and THE BULL!

[We cut backstage to an interview with the Brutal Brace.]

Brutal Barry: Ham N Eggers, you're entering our territory here!

Nasty Neil: My chainsaw says we'll beat you bloody!

Barry: We're gonna powerbomb you through nineteen stacked flaming tables into a vat of battery acid!

Neil: We'll chop off your fingers and feed them to our pet shark!

Barry: Enjoy your last hour on Earth, Ham N Eggers!

[We return to the Millennium Dome, where the remains of the piano have been cleared from the ring and replaced with a table crammed with yummy cakes, jellies and the like.]

Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is the advertised Food Fight!

[The Teddy Bear's Picnic starts to echo around the almost-empty Millennium Dome.]

Announcerr: Introducing first... weighing in at an even 300 pounds, he hails from the Woods... the HARDCORE EXTREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEME TEDDY BEAR!!!

[The crowd give a modest pop as a 6'5" man dressed in a teddy bear outfit stumbles down the aisle. He raises a paw to acknowledge the fans' response and rolls into the ring, regarding then food-table warily with his lifeless eyes.]

Tom: This match should no doubt be unbearable.

TV: Would Seth slap you for such a horrible pun?

Tom: No. *Pfffft*

TV: Alright. But you make sure you let Trey Vincent know when he would slap you so Trey Vincent can.

[The Teddy Bear's Picnic is suddenly drowned out as the theme to Star Wars blasts through the sound system.]

Announcer: And his opponent... he weighs a massive eight hundred pounds and stands eight feet tall fully erect... accompanied to the ring by Obi Wan Jabronie, here is... CHEWBACCA!

TV: It's time! It's time! It's Chewbacca time!

[Chewbacca roars as Obi Wan leads him to the ring. He is a massive trained grizzly bear, naked accept for an ammo belt slung around his neck, but fortunately covered by thick fur that prevents this show from becoming X-rated. Obi Wan Jabronie is a Ewan McGregor look-alike dressed in a Jedi robe, and carrying a plastic light saber.]

Tom: It's The World's Funniest Bear Attacks, tonight on FOX!

Crow: And the Hardcore Extreme Teddy Bear attacks before Chewbacca can even get into the ring! He's nailing him and! Oh down goes Obi Wan Jabronie! What a food fight! What a Classix!


TV: Michelle says Trey Vincent is hung like a bear.

Tom: Michelle should stop saying that so other people don't have to hear it! Ick!

Crow: And now the Teddy Bear is looking under the ring. Oh, he's pulling out a table! He's got a...he's got a table!

Tom: Obi Wan Jabronie is having performance trouble with his light saber.

TV: Oh man, he's suffering from myccoxafailure?

Crow: Here comes Chewbacca. Here comes Hardcore Extreme Teddy Bear!

TV: That bear is hardcore. That other bear is a fucking idiot.

Tom: Here comes the deadly light saber.




Crow: Jabronie is attacking the Teddy Bear! Oh no! Jabronie now checking on Chewbacca.

Obi Wan Jabronie: Use the Force, my Wookey friend.

Crow: Chewbacca is getting back in the ring! Unbelievable! But Teddy Bear with jiggling jelly and! The grizzly bear avoids it! Chewey with a chocolate egg and down on Teddy Bear! Teddy Bear is staggered!

Tom: It's a good thing we bought our exclamation points in bulk. Crow is flying through these things like they're nothing.

Crow: What a move! He went right through it! And look out for the apples, haw haw haw haw! What else are we gonna see here at Classix? One! Two! And no! What is this? Cherries! Cherries! Oh my, cherries are raining down on Chewbacca! Chewbacca is down! No!


Tom: What are you doing, Trey?

TV: Using the delete key. It makes Trey Vincent feel better.

Tom: But why are you using your forehead?

Crow: Wait a minute! He's got...he's got cakes! This is brutal!

TV: Brutal. Utterly crapulent. Whatever you want to call it. And there's the dreaded bear hug.

Crow: He's got a coconut and OH MY!

Tom: They're just big gooey slimy messes. Much like Trey most days.

TV: That's fair.

Crow: He's got...he's got a jar of honey! He swings it and no. Now Chewbacca takes it away from him and oh my! Honey is splattered everywhere!

TV: It's raining honey.

Tom: Hallelujah!

Crow: And now Chewbacca is licking the honey off Hardcore Extreme Teddy Bear!

TV: This is bordering on animal porn now.

Crow: What a sticky situation, haw haw haw haw! What a Classix! The 800 pounder has him covered! One! Two! Three! Unbelievable!

*** DING DING ***

Tom: That boy's got some weight issues. And shouldn't he be in hibernation at this time of year?

TV: He could join the crowd there.

Announcer: Here's your winner...CHEWWWWWWWWBACCA!!!

Crow: Fans, it is now time for a Dungeon OF DOOM Match!

[We fade to a view of a dark, dimly-lit dungeon. Chains, pokers and various torture equipment hang from the rough stone walls, and somewhere in the distance we can hear screaming.]

TV: Oh no. Not the dreaded hot poker up the ass match!

[A referee walks into the dungeon, a parrot on his arm. He raises a microphone to the parrot's beak.]

Parrot: SQUARK! Who's a pretty polly, who's a pretty polly. The following special feature contest is set for one pinfall or submission. SQUARK! It is the Dungeon OF DOOM match! SQUARK! Introducing first, accompanied by the delicious G.I. Ho SQUARK! Here is SERGEANT SLUMBER!

[A hardcore techno version of "Mr Sandman" plays from somewhere as Sergeant Slumber stumbles into the dungeon with G.I. Ho beside him. Slumber is a tall, unshaven man wearing some ripped army-issue pyjamas, and is being fed coffee intravenously through a drip by G.I. Ho, the busty blonde who is as ever crammed into army fatigues about three sizes too small.]

TV: Oh baby! This show just got a lot better.

Tom: Yeah. It went from an F to a D-plus!

["Mr Sandman" fades out and we hear some demonic chanting.]

Parrot: SQUARK! SQUARK! Now his opponent, hailing from Calgary, Alberta, Canada and weighing 267 pounds SQUARK! DIABLO! SQUARK! SQUARK! SQUARK!

[Diablo enters the dungeon clad in his hand-made cloak and jacket, plus of course his ever-present black shorts and goatee.]

Tom: What is that cloak made from, old towels?

TV: I think I can see "Hilton" symbols on some of them.

Tom: Eww. I wouldn't put anything with the word "Hilton" on it near my body. And I'm a robot!

TV: The hell? G.I. Ho is being forced out of the dungeon?

Tom: Sorry, Trey. This won't be an S&M match.

TV: Boring.


Tom: I just hope a old, balding midget doesn't show up to do a run-in.

Crow: What a move! Diablo right back up and right back down again. What a move! Unbelievable! One! Two! Threehegothim. No! So very close to being over.

TV: Crow really has Vin-man down to a science.

Tom: I know. I'm scared.

TV: Well, this match is putting me to sleep. Sgt. Slumber lives up to his name.

Crow: Yes! Yes! Yes! One! Two and no! What else are we gonna see here at Classix?

Tom: Diablo just crashed into the wooden stocks.

TV: I'd rather be watching a bondage movie starring G.I. Ho right now. That would be a parody of a sports entertainment show.

Tom: No it wouldn't.

TV: You're fired!

Tom: You don't pay me!

TV: Oh.

Tom: Eye poke...of DOOM. And there's a low blow...of DOOM! A second! And a third. Because good low blows come in threes.

TV: Amen, brother.

Tom: Always got to take it to the lowest level, don't you?

TV: That's my gimmick.

Crow: What a move! One! Two! Three. No?

Tom: It looks like the pre-match coffee is wearing off. Sergeant Slumber is falling asleep.

TV: He should use crack. He'd be up for 36 hours straight and wouldn't even know it.

Tom: Stomps...of DOOM! Forearms...of DOOM!

TV: Diablo is chaining Slumber to the wall. Now he will call forth the dark lord who will devour the world.

Crow: He's got a thumbscrew.

TV: What the hell IS a thumbscrew?

Crow: You're looking at it!

TV: No I'm not.

Tom: Eye poke of DOOM!

TV: Here comes the red hot poker.

Crow: What is this? Oh! Oh no!

TV: It doesn't go up his ass. Just hits him in the head.

Tom: And he's busted wide. Open.

TV: How did he blade? He's chained to the wall? I need a new secrets of sports entertainment revealed show now.

Crow: Oh! Oh no! No!

TV: What? It's a feather.

Tom: I guess it's homoerotic tickling fetish time.

TV: Disturbing hit.

Crow: Slumber's laughing but he's still asleep! He's got a jug of coffee.

TV: I'd rather he grab G.I. Ho's jugs. Staring at those for the next 10 minutes would be far more entertaining.

Tom: Hot coffee throw...of DOOM!

Crow: But coffee is dripping into Slumber's mouth. That's gonna revive him. Yes! Yes! Yes!


TV: Sure he's awake. But he's still chained to the wall.



Tom: Slumber breaks the chains of oppression! Free at last! Free at last!

Crow: What a move! And...oh my!

TV: That could have caved in his skull!


Crow: One! Two! Three! It's over! What a match!


Parrot: Who's a pretty polly, who's a pretty polly? *SQUARK!* The winner of this Dungeon OF *SQUARK!* DOOM match is *SQUARK! SQUARK!* Sergeant Slumber! *SQUARK!*

[G.I. Ho returns to the dungeon to tend to Slumber's injured foot as he poses triumphantly over Diablo - then falls over backwards as the coffee wears off and he falls asleep.]

TV: Damn, this show seems endless. What's next?

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, the following drinking contest will continue until one of the contestants is too inebriated to continue! Introducing first, hailing from the Grecian Hillside, here is the Master of Drunken Baa Fu Greek Wrestling... THE DRRRRRRRRRRRUNKEN SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!

["Baa Baa Black Sheep" plays through the sound system as the imposing five-foot-six drunken sheep staggers down the aisle. Of course, he's not a real sheep, but a guy dressed as a sheep, complete with a furry fleese. He rolls into the ring, and staggers in a small circle before collapsing into one of the chairs.]

TV: I'm a champion drinker.

Tom: And puker.

Crow: What a Classix!

TV: Man, when he's into a character, he's just not even Crow anymore.

Tom: Crow T. McMahon.

Announcer: And his opponent, hailing from Checkout City USA and tipping the scales at 175 pounds... BUBBBBBBBBBBBBBBOLICIOUS BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOB!!!

TV: Bubbolicious Boob?

Tom: I think it's Bob. But then again, who really cares?

TV: Boobalicious Boobs. There's another Web site hit.

["Money" by Pink Floyd is playing and Bubbolicious Bob staggers down the aisle. Like the Drunken Sheep he's relatively short for a pro-wrestler, and thin too. He is clad in the red apron, black pants and white shirt of a bagger at the Big Y supermarket, but the uniform is crumpled and soiled, as if he's been wearing it for the last three weeks. He is unshaven, sporting three days of stubble, and a wild look is in his eye. Bob reaches the ring, rolls inside and falls into the chair opposite the Sheep.]

Referee: Gentlemen, on my signal you may start-... errrh, you're not supposed to start drinking yet.

[The Drunken Sheep looks up from where he's already guzzled three pints of beer and hiccups.]

Referee: Whatever. On my signal, you will each drink a pint of beer. When one of you falls unconscious, the other shall be declared the winner! Do you understand?

Bubbolicious Bob: Whatesher.

Drunken Sheep: *hic!*

[Subtitles: Just get on with it.]

Referee: Very well... drink!

[Both men - well, creatures - raise a glass to their lips and drain it in one long gulp. Then they stare at each other.]

Referee: Drink!

[They each drain another glass and engage in another stare-down, and Bubbolicious Bob emits a deep sonorous belch.]

Referee: Drink!

[Two more tankards get drunk.]

Referee: Drink!

[Three hours later...]

Referee: Drink!

TV: Nude dancing women would really aid this drinking. Trey Vincent knows it always helps the iAd.

Crow: Oh my! They're almost out of beer!

Referee: Drink!

[They drink.]

Referee: Drink!

Crow: And there's no more beer. And neither competitor looks very happy about that.

Drunken Sheep: Baaaaaa baaaaaaaaa *hic!*

[Subtitles: Where's beer *hic*]

TV: A draw?

Crow: Oh no! As the announcer and referee talk, they're fighting.

TV: Bob hits his Bagger Blackout DDT. Drunken Sheep is down and out. SWERVE~!

Tom: Cheating in a drinking contest? We've reached new lows.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, I am informed that the Drunken Sheep has PASSED OUT due to intake of alchohol! Therefore, the winner of this drinking contest is BUBBOLICIOUS BOB!!!

[Bob raises his hands, burps and staggers out of the arena.]

TV: I'm bored with this card. Can we hit the bars now?

Tom: I could use a pint of oil.

Crow: Wait a minute! What about Classix? This is Classix!

TV: Well, this tape isn't going anywhere. But it's already almost time to get out of here.

Tom: This isn't because we're about to see Cobra Commander and you're afraid we'll make fun of your G.I. Joe feder—*snort* I almost made it through. Sorry.

TV: Bite me, Tom.

Tom: This is the last match of the morning, Trey. Let's just do it. We've endured much worse.

TV: Fine. What EVER.

Announcer: Introducing first, he hails from Coney Island and weighs 512 pounds while standing in excess of seven feet tall... representing toilets everywhere, here is THE JOHN!!!

[We hear a chain somewhere flushing and then "Splish Splash" plays through the sound system as a HUGE man in a silver leather bodysuit strides into the arena. In addition he wears pink dishwashing gloves, pink goggles, a pink cape and a silver leather mask, managing to look a little like the Big Show would if he were wearing Kane's costume dipped in mercury and then became George Michael's house-husband. The crowd, such as it is, joins together to give a MASSIVE monster pop as the John reaches the ring and raises his bottle of toilet duck over his head.]

Announcer: And now his opponent...

[The Cobra Theme from G.I. Joe: The Movie sounds around the arena.]

Announcer: He hails from Cobra La, weighs 167 pounds and is accompanied by Destro and the is "RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRED HOT" COBRA COMMANDER!!!

[Destro (a muscular man with a silver face-mask) and the Baroness (a dark-haired wench with glasses and a catsuit) come out first, then Cobra Commander follows to big-time booing. He's a short, skinny guy clan in an all-blue suit with a Cobra logo, a blue helmet and a silver facemask. He cackles evilly before climbing into the ring and looking up into the eyes of the John.]

Tom: Bring back old memories, Trey?

TV: I always preferred the silver and blue version of Cobra Commander. I mean...Baroness looks HOT!

Tom: Who knew Trey was just a nerd in a cool kid's clothing. But now you know.

TV: ...*grumbles* And knowing is half the battle...

Tom: Heehee.

*** DING DING ***

Crow: What a collision! Oh my! Oh no! Wait a minute! What is this? Look at that!

Tom: Quite the match caller.

TV: No wonder why Trey Vincent never knew the names of any moves when he was growing up.

Crow: The John of the ropes and...oh my! Destroy just grabbed The John's hair from behind! Here comes Cobra Commander and oh no! What a move! One! Two! No! John kicks out.

Tom: So, Trey. Was Cobra Commander ever a champion in YOUR fed?

TV: *Sigh* Yes.

Tom: Who else made it to the top in GIJW?

TV: Would you like to be scrap metal permanently?

Tom: Where's your sense of humor?

TV: Look! Destro is choking The John now.

Tom: Fine, Trey. Don't have any fun.

Crow: One! Two! Threehegothim. No! The John's chances of winning have not gone down the drain yet. Haw haw haw haw!

TV: You're a cut-up, Crow.

Crow: What a Classix!

TV: There's a chokeslam by The John. Bullshit! Uh, Trey Vincent means... Whatever.

Tom: You're backing Cobra Commander?

TV: Us heels need to stick together. It has NOTHING to do with childhood memories. Terrible, painful memories where my only enjoyment came from three-and-a-half-inch toys.

Crow: Oh no! Baroness is in the ring!

TV: Yeah! Low blow baby! And Destro with a leg clip! Go boys! And fuck you, Tom!

Crow: One! Two! No!

Tom: A lot of groin-based assault in this match. Look at that. The John's testicles are going to be bigger than Cobra Commander's helmet in a few minutes.

Crow: He's got him! One! Two! Three! No! Cobra Commander escapes just in time.

Tom: The John may be getting a second wind.


Tom: Eww, Trey!

TV: Sorry. I had a meat lover's special.

Tom: Ahh. A heart attack supreme, eh?

TV: Yes indeed.


TV: Destro with a chairshot! Yeah baby! Cover him, Cobra! COVER HIM!

Crow: Amazing! The John is still on his feet! Cobra Commander! What a move!

TV: Damn it!

Crow: One! Two! Three! No! Wait a minute! He's got it locked in!

TV: A Cobra Clutch? Is that ironic?

Tom: I'm not sure. I don't think so.

Crow: John falls right back on him! One! Two! Three! No! Destro pulls The John off Cobra Commander.

TV: Ref bump! Bring in the backups! Bring in Serpentor! Dr. Mindbender! Zartan! Tomax! Xamot! Bring 'em all down!

Tom: John with a Clothesline From The Men's Room!

Crow: Destro's got the chair. But no! He's pulling that chain, you know what that means!

TV: The Flush Away. What a crappy spinning powerbomb that was. C'mon, Baroness!

Crow: Salt in the eyes! Oh no! No! Yes! Yes! Yes! He's got Baroness by the throat!

TV: She's wearing glasses! This is obscene!

Tom: Chokeslam. But it's OK, because she's a member of Cobra. John is a real American hero.

TV: Crap. There's a Flush Away on Cobra Commander.

Crow: One! ... Two! ... Three! Obi Wan Jabronie breaks up the pin! No! What else are we gonna see on Classix?

Tom: Eye poke of DOOM! Oh no, not a bronco buster.

TV: No, even better. It's a Force Buster.

Tom: What's the difference?

TV: Obi Wan is well hung. He could do some damage when he's thrusting that tree trunk in The John's face.

Obi Wan: Father... I have returned...

Tom: I guess Obi Wan thinks Cobra Commander is his long-lost father.

Obi Wan: Turn from the Dark Side, Father... come with your Jedi son into the light. I can feel the good in you, Father... renounce the evil, and come with me now...

Cobra Commander: C... C...

Obi Wan: ...Father?


Obi Wan: Oh. Well if you wanna be like that...


Tom: Wow, he just shattered his plastic light-saber over Cobra Commander's head!

TV: Meanwhile, Star Wars fan boys weep all over the country. Aww, that little bitch is crying. Oh no!

Crow: The John is dragging himself over and makes the cover!

TV: Well, at least the referee is severely hurt.

Tom: Trey?

TV: Aww, crap! A second referee?

Crow: One! Two! Three!

*** DING DING ***

[Monster pop!]

Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of this bout... THE JOHN!!!

TV: Well, that was thrilling. Can we please go now?

Tom: I guess. C'mon Crow.

Crow: You only get this sort of action in Brawlers On a Budget! Unbelievable.

© 2005 BOB Wrestling. What lusers!


© BOB Wrestling!

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