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CLASSIX 4!

All Coma, POINK!, all the time, POINK!

(Attack of the killer B-Roster!)

[A black screen... slowly, a logo fades up, along with a musical sting that sounds like an orang-utan playing around with a Casio keyboard.]

Deep Voice-Over: BOB: What the world is watching on public access when there's nothing better on!

[Cross-fade to the El Cheapo BOB CLASSIX titles. From there we fade to a cut-price lawyer sitting at a desk.]

Lawyer: Ladies and gentlemen, we have been instructed by lawyers representing Mr. Christian Colde of Quebec, Canada to issue the following disclaimer. The following program contains self-serving propaganda and malicious spotlighting of fictional wrestlers created and controlled by the so-called "BigBOSS" for the express purpose of cheap ego-gratification. BOB wishes to offer this message to Mr Colde. Fuck you if you can't take a joke, Neige. Thank you.

[The camera pans right, revealing that the lawyers desk is located in a high school gym. Continued panning brings us to the CLASSIX desk. GBH is giving us his usual blank stare, Coma is making origami swans out of his script.]

GBH: Duh. Hello. We got special thingee today. Duh. Show. Yur. Today all-Coma. All the. Duh. Time.

Coma: Because my teddy is EXTREME! Rutabagas at four o'clock... wiggle the handle, Eugene... it's sticking again!

GBH: 'Kay. First match starts now.


[Cut to the Ronald McDonald Memorial Arena in BigMac, California. (Formerly Richardson, California until the sponsorship deal was finalised.) Signage of note includes "Push Bobo!", "Is this a House Show or a Dark Match?" and "Rick Rudes' death was a work!" BOB's Morality Police are attempting to remove that last one. Damn insensitive smarks...]

MS: The Masked Announcer is back in the ring, Scotty... and this next match should be something special... a true BOB CLASSIC!

SW: Don't you mean BOB CLASSIX, Mark Schivonne? As in a sub-par B-Roster match?

MS: Don't be ridiculous, Scotty... we've got two true BOB veterans in the ring and a returning superstar! It could be the GREATEST MATCH IN BOB'S HISTORY!

M: This is a Triple Threat Match scheduled for one fall! Introducing at this time... returning to BOB for the first time since his handler stopped roleplaying... THE DISGRUNTLED POSTMAN, MR. CLAVEN!

SW: You were saying, Mark?

["Return to Sender" by Elvis The Pelvis plays as Mr. Claven waddles down to the ring, distributing undelivered mail to the fans en route.]

MA: His opponent... from Krapteria... PZREMSLWK!

[The Krapterian National Anthem plays as the mail-order wrestler runs down the aisle and begins whaling away on the Aggressive Postal Delivery Person.]

MS: WE'RE UNDERWAY ALREADY! WHAT ACTION!

SW: Hold on, Mark... didn't Psremzl... didn't that guy leave like, six months ago? Why's he back?

MS: Forearm! Another forearm! Pzremslwvk is a one-man wrecking crew!

SW: Stop ignoring me!

MS: Pzremslwvk with a scoop... and a slam! Raw power from the big Krapterian!

SW: Wait a minute... I recognise this match! Are we just re-dubbing a dark match from the Mayhem after "Full Court Press"?

MS: Scotty! Don't break kayfabe! We're supposed to commentating on this match live and in person!

SW: I don't think that's going to work, Mark... Look, you can see me at the commentary table... with Monroe!

MS: You mean the.. *ahem* Internet table, Scotty? And isn't that... (Long pause)...Your identical twin brother... (Another pause)... Sammy?

SW: You are so lame, Mark...

MS: But my Mom says I'm cool... *ahem* I mean... look at THIS ACTION! Mr. Claven and Pzremslwvk are trying to choke each other out! And we don't even have our third participant yet!

SW: But if I remember right, we will in five, four, three, two, one....

Voice-Over: ONETWOTHREEFOUR!

[Dubbed-In Crowd Pop]

[The Eddie B "Sped Up and Funkee Ramones Megamix" reverberates around the arena, which in reality ISN'T in BigMac, California... sheesh, even _I_ was trying to maintain kayfabe, Scotty!]

MS: And here comes COMA!

Kritch: BAAAAAA!

MS: And he's RIDING KRITCH THE SHEEP TO THE RING!

SW: I hope PETA's not watching this... Watch out for the ring steps, Coma! What the hell I am saying, he can't hear me! The match is on tape for Gods' sake!

Kritch: BAAAAAAAA....

BONK!

Coma: Neeeeppp!

THUD!

SW: Oh great, Coma concussed the livestock! Better break out the mint sauce!

MS: Pzresmlwvk is furious about the treatment of his manager! He abandons the ring and charges the knocked-sillier-than-usual Coma! CLOTHESLINE FROM Aitch Ee Double-hockey-sticks! Lethal! He's going for a chokeslam... NO! Coma blocks it and is going for one of his own!

SW: Yeah right... Holy crap, he GOT it! Wow, we must have been jobbing Pzremslwvk out at this point...

MS: Mr. Claven slides out to the floor and blindsides Coma with a forearm to the back of the head! Spins him around, right round, like a record, baby... THE LETTER BOMB! Right on the floor!

SW: And if I remember correctly, this is where Bobo Fiendish and Justin Voss turn up, right?

MS: Scotty! You're ruining the surprises in this match! Remind me never to go to the movies with you! LOOK OUT! Here comes Bobo Fiendish and "The Stereotyped Face" Justin Voss! They're brawling down the aisle! What's going on?

SW: Beats me... I think we'd filmed a segment where they had a fight in the carpark earlier... it must have gotten clipped out! Then again, this feud didn't put THAT many butts in seats...

MS: Bobo and Justin are at ringside... Mr. Claven just nailed Bobo by mistake! And it's a PIER SIXER! It's mayhem! Pzremslwvk has a chair!

SW: Oh yeah, this bit is cool! He's about to miss Coma, hit the Generic Ref and then go on a chairshot rampage!

WHACK!

Crowd: Oooooh!

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

SW: And then he misses Bobo and chairshots himself off the post!

CLANGWHACK!

SW: Told ya! Now everyone lies around for ages selling it...

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

SW: Huh? They cut the sell! Well, thank God for the editing team! Hold the phone, we don't HAVE an editing team! They quit after their second pay check bounced! Who edited this match?

MS: Coma...

SW: Oh dear Lord...

[The participants suddenly go through the chairshot sequence again, only backwards this time....]

...ti gnilles sega rof dnoura seil enoyreve woN !ay dloT :WS

!KCAHWGNALC

!tsop eth ffo flesmih stohsriahc *allhailsatan* dna *buyozzyosburnerecords* oboB sessim eh neht dnA :WS

!KCAHW !KCAHW !KCAHW !KCAHW

!hooooO :dworC

!KCAHW

WHACK!

SW: GodDAMN! That was BLEEPing weird!

[Cut to the BOB lawyer]

Lawyer: Incidentally, BOB does not condone the use of backmasking and denies any connections with the Satanic Underworld.

[The tape of the lawyer suddenly reverses.]

Lawyer: *Bowdownbeforeyourfalsegodswormlings*

[Cut back to the match. Headlockkery abounds as we've jumped forward six minutes into the "resthold" section. The shot keeps cutting away to near-subliminal shots of a female fan with a pair of mammoth... signs. One reads "I'd pay a lot of dosh, for just one night with Josh!" The other reads "My bits are turning blue, waiting for the Kent State Krew". TRIVIA NOTE: That footage actually comes from "Pay-Per-View (On Pay-Per-View)". She was later arrested while going through the boys garbage and is undergoing a psychiatric evaluation.]

SW: Now I remember why this match was cut out of Mayhem... it was a total snoozer! Way too much resting and not enough...

[Sudden cut]

SW: (Slowly) ...shots of Morris Dancers. Thank you, Editor Coma...

[Long Pause]

SW: Okay, we get the picture, Coma... anytime you'd like to go back to the match, I'd appreciate it.

[Thirty seconds of Morris Dancing later, we cut back to the ring. Or at least _A_ ring.]

MS: LOOK AT THIS! Pszremslwvk has Mr. Claven on the ropes and is pummelling him! This is brutal! This is extreme! THIS... (pause) ...is a boxing match, isn't it?

SW: Yes.. yes it is.

[There's a sudden jump-cut and we get a one-second shot of Coma standing in a cornfield.]

Coma: SHEEPDIP!

[Cut back to the ring. Coma is staggering around with a bucket on his head, Bobo and Justin are fighting back up the aisle and Mr. Claven is pinning both Pzremslwvk and Kritch.]

MS: Um.. THREE! It's OVER! WHAT A MATCH!

SW: Shill by name, shill by nature, huh Mark?

MA: Here is your winner... MR. CLAVEN!


[Cut back to the CLASSIX Desk. Coma is attempting to staple a Belgian waffle to the gym's wall. GBH is staring off-screen. A broomstick emerges from the right of the shot and prods him a few times. Finally, he notices the camera.]

GBH: Hi!

Coma: (Singing) There's NO business like HOSE business, like NO business I know... POINK!

GBH: Duh. We got surprise guest. Yur. Duh. Hi. Who you?

Little Good: Erm. Name's Little Good mate. You know, I've been shagging that Sarah girl. Nice bit too.

GBH: 'Kay.

Little Good: No. Haven't had the pleasure. Not that I wouldn't kill for a little three-way action with the two of them, know what I mean?

GBH: Huh?

Coma: (To Little Good) Have a watermelon, Mr. Costner, they're full of vitamin Q! Why are the bullfrogs loose in the Kremlin again? Oy vey!

Little Good: Bloody hell. (Little Good sighs, then looks at the camera.) That's it? I could write better drivel if I was a real boy. I'm a parody of a parody. This is bloody pathetic. Right, so, what are we doing, then?

GBH: Duh. Match time?

Coma: Yur.

Little Good: Am I in this one, then?

GBH: Duh. Fink so.

Little Good: Should be a bloody good watch, then. Roll it!


[Cut to the Peabody Ballroom in Goshdurnit, Maine. Scotty, Heidi and Mike Monroe are manning the announce table tonight. Extended crowd shots of the fans showcase a few signs, including "Bring Out The Gimp Geek!", "I Ran Down Stephen King" and scarily, "I Have A Loaded .38! Go on... Chant "What!" Just One Time!"]

MA: Ladies and gentlemen... are you ready to RUMBLE?!

Crowd: Ayup!

SW: *Phffft*... New Englanders...

MA: The following contest is a COMA RULES BATTLE ROYAL with the winner getting an unspecified title shot at some ill-defined point in the future! Just like WCW used to do!

NH: Am I the only one getting a horrible sense of impending doom?

MM: Impending wackiness, maybe...

MA: The rules are as follows, more or less. The match will start off with two men, with a new participant entering evry 96 seconds. Each man will be permitted to use a weapon, chosen for him by Coma. When a wrestler is eliminated by pinfall, submission or being thrown over the top rope to the floor, he must report to Coma and perform a randomly-selected Punishment Forfeit from BOB's fabled Medium-Sized Bucket!

SW: All RIGHT! I love the Medium-Sized Bucket! Bring it ON!

NH: You're so sad, Scotty...

SW: Well, you know what'd make me happy, babe...

NH: Yes, I do... and I wouldn't do it with you if we were the last survivors of a nuclear war and had to re-populate the Earth, Whatbody...

SW: (To Mike) Oh, she wants me soooo bad!

MA: Introducing at this time... COMA!

Voice-Over: ONETWOTHREEFOUR!

[Once more the Ramones Megamix plays as Coma slides down to ringside on a large plastic sled. (Helped immensely by The Flunkys efforts at greasing up the center of the entrance ramp.) The Flunky himself follows, dragging a huge lumpy sack containing Comas' assorted weaponry.]

MA: Entering at this time, the first participants, as starting with the sixth participant wouldn't make a lot of sense... XAMFIR!

[Eddie B spins a new-age Pan-Pipe Medley of "Greensleeves", "My Heart Will Go On" and oddly, the pan-pipe version of "Nookie". A shot of the sound booth shows Lock, Shock and Barry (The BigBOSS'es bodyguards) "persuading" Eddie to play the music. I didn't even know an thumb could bend that far! Xamfir runs out and throws his arms in the air triumphantly. The Flunky fires off a single Roman Candle. It sputters out, sadly. I wonder if that's a metaphor, or something?]

MA: And now, the second participant... From the BOB Training Facility in GBH's basement... the hottest young prospect today... *low voice*... Hey, there's two names on this card! Is he "Loopy" or "Loony" Lenny?

The Flunky: (Stage whisper) He hasn't decided yet!

MA: Okayyy.. He is... "LOOPY-slash-LOONY" LENNY!

[Eddie B hasn't been given a musical cue for the rookie, so he plays "I'm Going Slightly Mad" by Queen. Homicidal Hank appears like magic and smashes him over the head with a potted geranium for musical gimmick infringement. Lenny arrives to Julio Eglasias singing "Crazy" instead... No, not the Seal song, but the one that goes "I'm cray-ci.. cray-ci for feeling zis wayyy!" You know... ask your mom! The Ambulance Jockeys wheel Lenny to the ring strapped to a gurney, as the BigBOSS isn't too worried that Vinnie Mac will sue him for stealing the intellectual property of WCW's "Norman The Lunatic".]

MM: Our first entrants are in the ring now! Coma is assigning them their weapons... Xamfir has been given foam-rubber nunchuks and a propeller beanie, while Lenny gets a rubber chicken and a roadsign that reads "SLOW DOWN, NUDIST CAMP 1/2 MILE ON LEFT."

NH: That'd work on Scotty, I'm guessing. Guys, did I miss a staff meeting or something? I'm sure this sort of match belongs on a Pay-Per-View, not this televised-only-if-we-need-filler-material house show.

SW: You did miss the meeting, babe... well, actually, it wasn't so much a "meeting" as a "boys night out".

NH: Say what?

SW: Welll... we kinda went out for a few beers last week and ended up watching a tape of the STWF's "Bunkhouse 'Blivion Brawl" over at Shills' place. Next thing we knew, the BigBOSS was drawing up a contract to let Coma book a Brawl for us.

NH: BigB must have been REALLY drunk...

MM: Oh yeah... we took him to "Stinky Nellies"... It's the only bar that sells whiskey by the pint.

NH: Ouch!

***

[And as Eddie B plays a tape-recording of a bell and lights up a "fattie", this match finally gets underway.]

MM: And here we GO! Xamfir runs across the ring and brings those soft, fuzzy nunchuks crashing down on the head of Lenny! He's wailing away like a madman on the madman!

NH: That's really politically incorrect, Mike... how about we refer to Lenny as "Reality Impaired," huh?

SW: We still employ Stinkbutt Nastyass and Beastie Al, Heidi... I'd forget about trying not to offend people, 'cause it's already WAY too late...

MM: Look at Lenny he's just standing there taking those shots! He has no concept of pain! He has no fear!

NH: And he hasn't had anyone take off his straitjacket yet... Barry, Gary! He doesn't wrestle in that, you boneheads!

Barry "The Backboard" Brown: I know that! But we figured it'll be fun to watch him try!

SW: SHUT THE HELL UP, BARRY! (Nelson Muntz "Ha-ha" laugh)

Gary "The Gurney" Greene: Hey, that's MY catchphrase! SHUT THE HELL UP, SCOTTY!

Barry: Nice comeback, man! (The Jocks high-five)

SW: Hey, laugh it up, pal... you two are in this match tonight, and I hope Lenny beats the snot out of ya!

Barry: We are? Since when?

[He grabs a spare script and starts thumbing through it.]

MM: If I could draw everyones attention to the ring, we DO have a match in progress?

NH: Oh, come on, Mike! You know as well as we do, nothing ever happens in the first period of a Rumble!

MM: Yes, but there's no need to draw attention to that fact, people! Lenny has been beaten to a slightly-bruised pulp by Xamfir, who dumped the ineffectual nunchuks and used Lennys own sign against him! Oh, Cruel Irony, what a bitter mistress you are!

[Cut to GBH, who's reading a comic-book adaptation of "Hamlet".]

GBH: Yur. What he said.

[Cut back to ringside.]

Gary Greene: Well, Barry?

Barry: Oh, crap! We ARE in this thing!

Gary: D'OH!

SW: Ten seconds to go before the next guy! Three.. two.. one...

MOOOOOOOOOOO!

NH: This is going to be SUCH a strange match...

["Ride of the Valkyries (Eddie B's Sonic Explosion Happy Hardcore Mix)" plays as the next entrant enters from the entryway. He slips on the grease left from Comas' entrance and slides the rest of the way to the ring.]

MM: It's Kamikaze Ken! We're about to get EXTREME! Coma reaches into his sack full of Silly Props and gives Ken... Mr. Poindexter! His legendary over-stuffed teddy bear!

SW: Awww, Ken don't need anything! He's a natural-born Lethal Weapon!

[A goatee-wearing man in black appears from the crowd and bops Scotty over the head with a kendo stick.]

SW: OW!

NH: Ken hits the ring and nails Xamfir with Mr. Poindexter! And Xamfir flies half-way across the ring! Ken looked a little surprised at that!

[Ken studies Mr. Poindexter intently, then pulls a horseshoe out of the back of it.]

Ken: (Faintly) Geez, sorry man... I had no idea that was in there! Are you okay?

Xamfir: Poink!

[He falls over. Ken shrugs and begins attacking Lenny, who's still trying to get his arms free.]

MM: Ken scoops up Lenny and nails him with a spinning Blue Thunder Bomb! Leg drop! Ken's on a tear! He charges Xamfir and hits a Shining Wizard! He's getting All-Pro Japan on us!

All: LARIATOOOOOOOOO!

NH: Lenny falls back against the ropes after that.. he's so close to elimination! Ken runs at him... and runs right into a mammoth headbutt! And another! And another!

Lenny: I wanna watch the damn World Series!!!

MM: Good Lord! He's a one-man wrecking crew!

NH: Try not to use up all the clichés, too early Mike... this is going to be a long, long match!

SW: Good call! Hey, Lenny's got an arm free! And he's choking Ken! Ha! I like this guy... he's NUTS!

MM: Xamfir with a standing dropkick on thin air! I think he's still feeling the effects of that horseshoe!

Xamfir: (Loudly) You'll never take me alive, copper!!

THUD!

NH: You think? Hey, we're counting down... three... two.. one!

MEEP MEEP

["Rock and Roll Part 2" begins to play.]

MM: It's Jean Bannister!

NH: No it's not...

[The fans who had started to stand up sit down again after one "HEY!" as Alex The Zamboni Driver From Hell walks down the ramp. Yes, walks. What, you thought BOB could afford a zamboni?]

MM: Oh dear. The former Alex "No Gimmick' Smith is our fourth entrant! He receives a large, clunky 1980s era mobile phone from Coma and rolls into the ring...

NH: Loony Lenny elbows him in the head...

SW: And Kamikazie Ken throws him out. I'll have "Total Losers" for $200, Alex!

Coma: Neeble! It's the 1956 Hungarian tap-dancers! I'll take a nibble!

NH: Alex hit the floor hard... and Coma runs over to him with the Medium-Sized Bucket! Alex grudgingly takes his Punishment Draw.

[The Flunky holds a mic up for Alex who reads the 4"x6" card he drew.]

AS: Uhhh... "Walk Backstage and insult the mother of the first man you see. Poink." Oh, mannnnnn!

MM: Alex trudges backstage to complete his task as Lenny resumes his attack on Ken... There's a low dropkick! That's probably not the wisest move when you're still partially trapped in a straitjacket... he looks like a turtle on its back!

NH: The still knocked-silly Xamfir stumbles over him and goes down heavily! Ken's got the road sign and is going to the top rope! And since even he never knows what he's going to do up there, I'd brace yourself!

SW: WHOA!

CLANG!

MM: SHOOTING SIGN-ASSISTED STAR PRESS! He took out everyone!

NH: Including himself! His head bounced right off the sign on impact... could be a concussion for Ken!

SW: Well, it wouldn't be the first, Heidi... Hey, check out the BOB-Tron! Kamcorder Kid is with Alex! This should be good!

[A wobbly hand-held shot shows Alex Smith walking nervously down a suspiciously empty backstage corridor.]

AS: Please be Dennis, please be Dennis, please be Dennis...

[A figure moves in the shadowy darkness.]

Voice: Hello, my intended...

AS: Oh, crap... Ummm... *cough*... Your mommas so fAHHHHHHGGGGLLEEENONONONOTTHEFACEOHSHIIIIIIIT!

[We cut back to ringside. The announce team is in mid group-shudder.]

SW: The poor bastard! Oh well, it's only Alex Smith...

Xamfir: Psst! Are we back? Can we stop selling this now?

SW: Go for it...

Xamfir: Thanks...

MM: Xamfir manages to struggle back to his feet! Lenny's got him by the leg and is biting him! Ken rolls back to his feet as the next man is about to enter the match!

BONG!

Voice Over: ONETWOTHREEFOUR!

[A live version of "Surfin' Bird" as performed by The Ramones explodes over the speakers, overdubbed with Goldberg-esque chants of "Biiiiiird-BOY! Biiiiiiird-BOY!" Can you guess who it is yet?]

SW: It's Birdboy!

[Well, duhhhhhhh... Anyway, he runs to the ring, cheesy clip-on wings attached, big pop, yadda yadda yadda...]

MM: You're right, Scotty! Former BOB sub-superstar and Whatever Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Champion Birdboy! And do you remember who defeated him for that title?!

NH: No... that was YEARS ago, Mike!

MM: Oh, for heavens sake, it's in the archives, people! It was Kamikazie Ken! And Birdboys' going right after him with a springboard bodyblock into the ring! He didn't even wait for a weapon from Coma!

SW: You think anyone's going to buy a feud still existing after all this time, Mike?

MM: Hey, Tito Santana and Rick Martel renewed their rivalry in three consecutive Royal Rumbles, so why not? On the floor, Coma has a pair of directors chairs that I think were supposed to be Birdboy's international objects! Can anyone read what's written on them?

NH: Ummm.. "Russell Crowe"... and.... "Russell Crowes Ego" on the bigger chair.

[Note: This is "parody" and "satire," Mr. Crowe. Please don't try to punch us for it.]

SW: Coma slides them into the ring anyway... and Lenny's got his straitjacket off at last! Now let's see the new boy go to work!

NH: He gives Xamfir a forearm shiver! Xamfir spins the propeller of his beanie and headbutts Lenny with the PLASTIC WHIRLY THING OF DOOM! Birdboy backs Ken to the turnbuckles... Tornado DDT onto a directors chair!

MM: Lenny's got the rubber chicken! He punches Xamfir a few times and winds up... here it comes!

SPLUNGE!!!

NH: Oh, my GOD! That's disgusting! There's chicken guts all over the ring!

[Heidi does a double take.]

NH: What the hell? Rubber chickens don't have guts! Coma, what did you fill that with?

Coma: Yes, I DID eat the butler, Inspector Rubarb! Gad, you're a cunning one! It's a fair cop! Tingle!

[He holds up two empty boxes, one marked "Custard", the other "Jelly Crystals". Cut to Dennis, the under-utilised English Interviewer.]

Dennis: Crikey! That'll make the ring a... *ahem*... "trifle" slippery!

*Rimshot*

[Cut back to the ring, where the entire crowd groans in unison at that excruciating pun.]

NH: Dennis, did you HAVE to? You could get arrested for making jokes that lame!

[Cut back to Dennis.]

Dennis: Or at least get put in "custard-y"!

*Rimshot*

[A huge hammer descends and begins to pound Dennis to the floor as we cut back to the ring.]

MM: Birdboy has Ken by the mask.. He sends him sliding along that smear of assorted desserts like a curling stone! Ken straddles the base of the ringpost painfully AND smashes his face into the middle turnbuckle! Ouch! Xamfir clotheslines Lenny to the mat! And incidentally... three.. two.. ONE!

A-WOOOOOOOOOOOO (That was a Wolf Howl... you try describing it!)

["The Sound of Someone Breaking Things by Smashing Them Repeatedly With a Tonka Truck" plays as Hardcore JJ is pushed to the ring in a stroller by the Flunky to a scarily-large pop. Coma hands him a Boxing Hand Puppet (cf: "Big" starring Tom Hanks) as he rolls into the ring.]

NH: Hardcore JJ hits the ring! He quickly sets up one of those directors chairs behind Xamfir, displaying remarkable manual dexterity for a three-year old... he ascends it.. taps Xamfir on the shoulder... HARDCORE DROP! He pins.. the Generic Ref slides in from the floor and counts.. One! Two! Three!

SW: Xamfir is gone! Better get the Medium-Sized Bucket ready, Coma!

Coma: Idigo, violet, turquoise, BLUE! Rock lobsters... ATTACK!

[Xamfir rolls out and draws a card... while still selling the Hardcore Drop, just in case any Internet Wrestling Reporters are watching.]

Xamfir: (Reads) "Gleep! It's Wrestling Karaoke time! Take the house mic and sing your favourite song for the fans." Okay, here goes...

[Coma gives him the mic. A spotlight is switched on, bathing him in light. A hush falls over the crowd, allowing us to hear Birdboys' whispered "Reverse, knee" instruction to Ken with astounding clarity.]

Xamfir: (Sings... badly) Feeeeeel-ings... Nothing more than feeel-ings!

[A large hook appears from the left of the shot and yanks Xamfir off-screen.]

Xamfir: YURK!

[Back in the ring, Ken gets knee up to block a blind charge from Birdboy. Who'd would have seen THAT coming? Sheesh.]

MM: Hardcore JJ is hammering away at the small of Lenny's knee, now! Ken hits a springboard bulldog on Birdboy! He picks up the rubber chicken and is throttling him with it! What RUTHLESS AGRESSION!

[Cut to a plush office. A middle-aged man is sitting behind a mammoth desk. A plaque on the desk reads "Bow Before Your God!"]

VKM: HEY! I heard that!

[Cut back to the ring.]

SW: Oh, great! Now he'll buy us out and I'll end up commentating on Jakked! (Long pause) That'll be an improvement, won't it?

SCHWING

NH: Is it that time already? That was never 96 seconds!

MM: I guess it doesn't matter! Here comes a new victim! Ahh, participant! Yes, that's what I meant!

[A Middle-eastern sitar-driven version of "Hair" plays as The Persian Rug waddles slowly down the aisle waving a flag. It's actually the state flag of Texas instead of Iran, but the Persian Rugs' cognitive faculties ain't what they used to be...]

SW: The Persian rug's in this thing? You gotta be kidding me!

[Cut to GBH]

GBH: Duh. Gimmie a head of hair. Long bootiful hair. Yur.

[Cut back to Scotty]

SW: Thanks for the input, dude. Although with The Rug, it should be "Gimmie a head of Nair"...HA! I kill me!

NH: *sigh* Kamikaze Ken smashes that *coughcoughempty* mobile phone *coughcasing* over Birdboys' head! Look at it explode in a shower of cheap plastic! Lenny's got Mr Poindexter and is... well, having a deep conversation with him, it seems. I thought only Coma did that?

MM: Well, he is clinically insane, Heidi.. whereas Coma's just... (Long pause)... Coma. The Persian Rug finally reaches the ring, only to find Hardcore JJ waiting for him! JJ's got the Boxing Puppet! Left, right, UPPERCUT! Look at the Persian Rug no-sell those shots to his ample gut!

SW: Actually, I just don't think he's noticed JJ yet. Wait, he's looking down.. and he sees him!

PUNT!

SW: WHOA! There goes JJ into the cheap seats! We may have to wait until he makes his way back to ringside before he does his Elimination Forfeit!

NH: How could he kick that cute li'l JJ like that!

SW: Are you getting clucky, Heidi? Geez, the old biological clock must be ticking away for ya, huh?

SLAP!

SW: I'll be good...

MM: Birdboy has recovered somewhat from that shot with the phone and eye-gouges Ken! Fishermans buster! Hooks on a Boston Crab... Lenny explodes out of the corner and gives him a FACE FULL FLUFF! Um, with Mr. Poindexter, I mean...

SW: Here we go again! Three, Two, ONE...

A-HOOO-GA

["Good Lovin'" kicks in at the "Doctor, doctor.. Mr M.D!" line as Barry Brown of the Ambulance Jockeys returns to ringside. Coma runs over to the announce table and grabs Scotty Whatbody's baseball cap, dumping his 4'x6" cards into it.]

SW: HEY! What the hell are you doing, Coma? Oh, I see... Barrys' weapon IS the Medium-Sized Bucket! He rolls into the ring.. and Lenny meets him with a MAN-SIZED football tackle! He tears the Medium-Sized Bucket out of Barrys hands and...

CLANG!

NH: Ouch! Barrys' going to be able to re-form the Head Trauma Club after that shot! Oh, look... Hardcore JJ's made it back to the ring! Coma offers him the Post-Elimination Task cards...

Coma: Is there a well-done steak in the offering, Herr Strickland? Poland four, Rice Krispies, nil!

Hardcore JJ: What? What? What? I don't have to pick a stupid card and that's the last line, 'cause my mommy said so!

[He gives Coma the Hardcore Drop, which Coma sells like a pro, bouncing off the guardrail on the way down. JJ pours the contents of a bottle of orange juice over him and stomps back to the locker room to a huge pop.]

NH: Coma, sweetie, are you alright?

Coma: Neepie, Neepie, I see sheepies... peep!

SW: Was that a yes?

MM: It's difficult to tell with Coma... WOW! Barry Brown just side-stepped a headlong charge by Loony Lenny... Lenny hit the post with HELLACIOUS Velocity! In the opposite corner, The Persian Rug has Birdboy down on the mat and is stomping him with those pointy-toed boots of his! Kamikaze Ken's going back up to the top turnbuckle... MOONSAULT! Right into the totally empty middle of the ring! Crowd-pleasing, though pointless!

NH: The Persian Rug with an Airplane Spin! And right into a shoulderbreaker! He puts the Camel Clutch on Birdboy! Ken scrambles the Rugs brains with a roundhouse kick...

SW: Barrys' going to slam Lenny through the directors chair!

RIPPP!

SW: YEAH! Right through the flimsy canvas seat! That's gotta hurt! Well, not really, but the cliché was there and I HAD to use it! And here comes another wrestler!

[The THX sound]

[Inner Circles' "Bad Boys" plays as Little Good runs down the aisle. It's not his theme music, but Eddie B's "smoke" is starting to kick in, so he's probably enjoying the reggae up in the booth.]

Little Good: Where's me bloody weapon, then? Come on, mate!

Coma: Zootlewurdel! Neep! (He falls over.)

SW: Crap! Comas' out of it! Here, let me! (He searches through the bag and throws something to Little Good.) Here, CATCH!

Little Good: This is a Silly Putty egg, you pillock! How am I supposed to fight with this?

SW: Improvise, dude!

Little Good: Fine!

SPLAT!

Birdboy: What the hell are you doing?

Little Good: Sorry, mate! (Peels the Silly Putty off Birdboys' arm.) Hey, look! It's got one of your tattoos on it!

Birdboy: Wow, so it has! That's very cool!

MM: Little Good grabs the distracted Birdboy and heaves him out of the ring! That's despicable!

SW: But it's okay, because he's evil, Mike! YEAH! Here Birboy, pick a card... any card!

[Birdboy picks a card from Scottys' baseball cap.]

Birdboy: "Imitate your favourite WWE superstar." Well, that sounds easy enough! (Turns to camera) I'm not being used properly! I want to be in the main event again! And sell more of my T-shirts! I'm a superstar and that's the bottom line!

NH: What WWE superstar is that?

Birdboy: Shut your mouth, woman!

[He tries to punch Heidi and is quickly wrestled to the ground by security... well, The Flunky and the Masked Announcer, anyway. We can't afford a security team.]

NH: I'm still confused... was that "Flash" Flanagan?

MM: Ken spins Little Good around and drills him with a DDT! Float-over into a cover... Little Good kicks out at one! Lenny has Barry in a front facelock... Legsweeps him face-first onto the still-prone Kamikaze Ken! The Persian Rug sets up the second directors chair and... has a quick sit-down.

NH: Well he's been out there a long time for a veteran, Mike! Lenny picks up Barry again... ooh, eye-gouging by the former EMT! Boot to the gut... and a piledriver! Kens' back up as well.. legdrops Lenny!

SW: Ooh, they're taking care of business on that head-case Lemmy!

[A warty-faced long-hair appears behind Scotty and hits him with a flying-V guitar.]

SW: OW! Lenny, Lenny, I meant Lenny!

MM: We're counting down once more... Three, two, ONE!

CHA-CHING

["No Woman, No Cry" plays briefly before we hear a needle being jerked roughly over a record. A quick shot of the audio booth shows Barry "persuading" Eddie B to stick to proper entrance themes. A few seconds later "Smooth Operator (Henry Rollins Shouty Lyrics Heel Mix)" heralds the arrival of semi-retired STWF and BOB Legend Sillicone M. Plants. He pauses half-way down the aisle and scowls at the camera.]

SMP: I'm only doing this as a favour to Nurse Heidi, okay?

[He shoves Coma out of his way and fumbles around in the Santa Sack Fulla Props for a weapon.]

MM: Sillicone M. Plants! The former one-time, one-time, one-time Intergalactic champion of the STWF is here! He rolls into the ring.. What weapon did he pick? Whatever it is, it's pretty damn small!

SW: His old Club Med associate Barry Brown spots the doc...What the? He charges across the ring and biffs him in the head with the Medium-Sized Bucket! Woo-Hoo! When an ill-defined potential title shot is probably on the line, all loyalties go right out the window! WOO-HOO!

NH: Sil hit the mat hard! He's cradling his head in his hands... Did he... He DID! Sillicone M. Plants weapon is the Easily-Concealed Blade! And he's busted himself wide open mere seconds after entering the Rumble! What a sports entertainer his is!

MM: The Persian Rug sneaks up behind Barry and gives him a Middle Eastern Suplex! Ken grabs the Rug unawares and tosses him out of the ring..

SW: Well, eases him out, actually. I guess we can't risk breaking the old guys hip, can we? Coma seems to regained whatever senses he normally posses and wobbles over to him.

TPR: (Says something in Arabic. Then reads the card, also in Arabic. Then strikes a dramatic pose and recites something in Arabic. Possibly Shakespeare. Equally possibly, his grocery list. Probably the latter, as I swear I heard him say "hummus".)

MM: What was that all about? Coma, let me see that card... (Reads it) Hey! This card is in Arabic!

Coma: Poink! But there's no wheat in this haystack! I demand a re-count! Ocelot!

NH: Kens' a house of fire! He atomic drops Barry and gives Little Good a Clothesline From Where The Naughty People Go! Picks him up... Vertical suplex coming up... NO! It's the Kenicidal Hammer! I guess he picked up a few tricks from tagging with Homicidal Hank in Pennsylvania!

MM: He's going up again... Barry staggers across the ring and crotches him on the top! Barrys' going up with him! Superplex, perhaps... NO! Kens' firing back... he punches Barry in the gut and rolls over the top of him... SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB OFF THE TOP! WOW!

Barry: *stage whisper* Psst.. Sil, gimmie the blade!

SMP: *whispers* No way! That's so unhygienic! It's not sterilised or anything!

Ken: *Whispers* Here, I've got one!

SW: Say what you like, Mikey, I STILL say our ring mics are turned up way too loud!

MM: I'm beginning to agree! Ooh, Barrys forehead is busted open from being driven back-first into the canvas! I know that doesn't make a lot of sense, but go with it, folks!

NH: And here comes our next participant!

[The sound you get when you put a straw up a frogs butt and blow really hard. PS: Don't try that at home, you sick freaks!]

SW: Oh, GOD NO! It's Stinkybutt Nastyass!

NH: And look at every swarm him! He didn't even get a chance to get his weapon... a metal clipboard... before he was dragged into the ring and quintuple-teamed!

MM: I guess Chucks' ring-clearing tactics' from "Gluttons For Punishment" are still fresh in everyones' mind, Heidi! They're dragging him to the ropes... NO! Don't throw him this way! NOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!

BRAPPPPPPPPPP!!

[Sounds of confusion and chaos, accompanied by screams and running footsteps. A few seconds later, the sound of a high-powered extractor fan kicks in. This is replaced by three minutes of silence, punctuated by some THUMPs and grunts. After two minutes a TWEET is also audible. Finally we hear;]

MM: Testing? Testing? Are we on? Flunky, give me a signal if you can hear us! Good. Sorry about that folks...

SW: Can you squidge over a bit Mike...

Eddie B: Yo, wassup wid dis? Get yo' asses outta my booth, yo?

SW: Hey, shut your yap, wigger! I am NOT going back to ringside tonight!

Eddie: But, Scotty, yo! How can I lay down some wiggin' shiznit wid yo' big white ass all over the decks, bro?

[Long pause]

NH: Anyone know what the hell he's talking about?

SW: Pass...

MM: I lost him at the second "yo"... Anyway folks, by the looks of it, Insano Mano was the eleventh man in, if anyone's still keeping count. He's been given a ghetto blaster to use in the ring by Coma... who seemed strangley unaffected by Stinkybutts' little indiscretion.

NH: Comas' reaction time was never that fast, Mike. He'll probably pass out in about forty minutes or so. Lenny gives Barry Brown a neckbreaker as Little Good is waffled with the HARDCORE SIGN OF DEATH by Plants! Insano Mano takes a run-up... and blasts Ken in the back of the head with his stereo! And there goes Ken, tumbling over the top rope and bouncing his face off the apron on the way down! And off the guard rail! And the remains off our announce table! And finally putting himself through the timekeepers desk! Ooh, looks like he dislocated his patella on that last one!

SW: Coma's still going to make him do an Elimination Forfeit though! Ken limps over...

Ken: "Advance three spaces"? What the heck does THAT mean?

VROOM

TWANG

[Howler monkey noises]

NH: Oh, no! You know what Kens' selection has done?

SW: Sped this card up a bit?

MM: Pretty much! Three more wrestlers are hitting the ring at once! Brandon of the Kent Staters! The Geek! Googoo Cachoob!

Eddie B: Sheeee-it! I ain't even TRYIN' to play those three down! I ain't a genius, yo!

NH: Coma tosses them some random objects from the Sack O' Doom! The Geek gets a set of plastic measuring spoons, Brandon gets a 12-CD set of 60's Party Hits and Googoo Cachoo gets an inflatable squeaky octopus! And with seven men in the ring, this should get brutal real quick!

SW: The Geek isn't having much luck with those spoons! He's gouging away at Loony Lenny's back to no avail! Lenny drops him with a spinning, clipboard-assisted clothesline! Brandon breaks a CD of easy-listening classics on Barrys skull! Lenny has the Sinister Surgeon... he puts him in a front facelock and hefts him in the air... DDT! He planted Plants with that Implant!

MM: And THAT's why we don't let you do play-by-play, Scotty!

Eddie B: Man, I could call dis crap betta than DAT! Check it out, yo! Geek-boy's got Googoo and he's gettin' all wickety-whack upside his head! Insano Hando gots the crazy-legs goin' ON! Drop dat leg, yo! Have MERCY!

MM: Eddie...

Eddie B: What?

MM: NEVER do that again! Brandon bulldogs the hell out of Mano! He picks him up and hits a nice slingshot suplex! Floats over into a cover! Just a one-count, but some nice skills shown from the Still-Unrecognised "NQBEFTBB" Light-Heavyweight Champ! Dragon suplex! SMP from behind! Side-Russian legsweep!

NH: Plants locks in a Milano Armbar on Brandon! Googoo stomps away on him as Plants really cinches the hold in! Falling Squeaky Octopus Drop!

SW: Run-In Alert! Someone just jumped over the Flimsy Barricade™! Who the heck is it?

Man: (Overacting wildly) STEAL MY GIMMICK, HUH? Eat squeaky, rubber DEATH!

SQUEAK!

SW: He just grabbed Googoo's weapon and brained him with it! Wait, I recognise him now! That's The Man With The Squeaky Rubber Octopus! He did dark matches back when I was calling Tornado Thursday Night back in the Whatever Wrestling Federation! Remember? "Fictional Friday Night"?

NH: That's right! Didn't Googoo wrestle in those dark matches too?

SW: He sure did!

TMWTSRO: Come on, boys! Let's get this "too-good-for-dark-matches" lower-to-midcard guy!

SW: Huh? Hey, look at all these guys coming down the aisle! It's the lifetime jobbers of the W(hatever)WF, coming to take out their frustrations on Googoo! "Rancid" Ron! The Flabulator! "The Modern-Day Viking", Jurgen Lurgensonsonsonson! Tommy "Earwig" Smith! The Fornicator! The India-Rubber Man! "Below-Average" Benny Hall! Larry The Shrimp! Ectoplasm Boy! The Wannabe! Johnny No-Nose! Implosion Guy! Bob "No Relation To That Old Guy" Dole! Masochistic Mel! The Tongue! Freddy "Lemming" Harris! Googoo is getting beaten within an inch of his life!

NH: And he's been tossed out of the ring! I guess that'll count as an elimination! They're still attacking him! OOH! What was that?!

SW: That's Ectoplasm Boys' "Squidge of Death", babe! Implosion Guy gives him the Black Hole! The Wannabe delivers HIS finisher, the "I Wish I Had a Better Finisher" DDT! The Tongue gives poor Googoo the "Slip Ya One"!

MM: Hey! The Persian Rug and Captain Comb-Over are coming to Googoos' rescue! Comb-Over gives Bob Dole the "Arthritic Punch of Justice"! The Rug gives "Earwig" Smith the "Final Welfare Payment"! Comb-Over's got "Rancid" Ron!

All: "THE FINAL PARTING"!

Eddie B: Yo.

SW: And Googoo is fighting back as the brawl moves back up the aisle! He just gave Larry The Shrimp the "Don't Call Me an Egg-Man, BLEEP-Nuts"! This is insane!

MM: Well, that was fun! But we still have a match going on in the ring! Six men are duking it out! Little Good is hammering Barry with a Silly Putty-loaded fist! Barry is reeling!

Barry: Oh, man... I think I bladed too early!

THUD!

NH: Little Good covers! One.. two! THREE! Barry is history!

[Sound of someone gargling]

SW: But there's the silly noise that signifies another entrant! It's Garry Greene, the other Ambulance Jockey!

Eddie B: Scotty, get outta my way, bro! I gots to spin some funkee sounds, yo?

SW: Here, I'll do it! Which button do I press?

[Aquas' "Dr Jones" fills the arena as Garry hits the ring, armed with a plastic scrubbing brush.]

Eddie B: Not that one, bro...

MM: Garrys heads straight for his fallen partner! Oh, how nice, he's taping up that nasty cut for him! Barry rolls out to the floor as Lenny clotheslines both SMP and The Geek to the mat! Do you believe Lennys' still in this thing?

SW: It's an impressive debut, all right! Brandon's going up top! Corkscrew butt-drop onto Insano Mano! Garry gives Brandon a hard shot to the noggin with the scrubbing brush as he returns to a vertical base! Brandon responds with a barrage of razor-sharp CDs, making Garry back off quick! Plants has him! Death Valley Driver for Garry right onto Mr. Poindexter! Lenny has the Persian Rugs' flag... and Little Good gets it across his back! HA! Can't do play-by-play, my white, hairy butt!

Coma: Right turn, Clive! Wash the elephant with a scouring pad, it's easier!

MM: Looks like Barry is going to have to complete a task, despite being only semi-concious1

Barry: Wha'? This card just says "Bonus Round"... Whas' that mean?

CLANKCLANKCLANKCLANK!

SW: HEY! The Big Blue Cage is lowering! YES! This is going to get BRUTAL! Wait, check THAT out! SMP just Climbed out over the top rope! He eliminated HIMSELF just before the cage came down! Has he gone insane?

MM: I don't understand this! Dennis is coming down the aisle to find out what this is all about!

Dennis: Excuse me, Dr Plants... what the deuce is going on? Pretty poor show, eh what?

SMP: SHADDAP, ya limey bastard! It's simple economics! I told your BigBOSS he only poneyed up enough cash for twenty minutes of ring-time! Ten with the bladejob! And I expect double-time for cage matches! Besides, I wasn't booked to win this thing, so why bother?! I'm a former Intergalactic Champion! I held three, count 'em, THREE title belts at the same time! But every time I appear in BOB, I get to do the J-O-B! Look who has pinfalls over me! Justin Voss, Kamikaze Ken...

Dennis: Neige Thirteen...

SMP: YOU LYING BASTARD! That NEVER happened! It was a dark match! They don't mean anything! And it was by count-out! It was an angle! I'll kill you! AHHHHHHHHH!

MM: Oh, my GOD! Plants has snapped! Run for your life, Dennis!

THUMP!

SW: Too late...

Dennis: AHHHHH! OWWWW! CRIKEY! MUMMY!

NH: Boy, has THIS been an action-packed night, huh?

PING

NH: And it's not over yet! Here comes Randy Handi!

Eddie B: Damn, I ain't got no music for him... He's the Kane takeoff, yo? Pass dat 80's CD, Scotty...

SW: Word up!

[Duran Durans' "A View To A Kill" kicks in at the "Dance.. into the fire" line. Randy takes a squeegee from Coma and enters the cage. Inside, he raises his hands above his head, then drops them dramatically. Nothing happens. So we can't afford ringpost pyro, either. Anyone surprised? Didn't think so.]

NH: Randi could be a huge factor in this! He's huge, he's fresh!

RH: MEEEEEEEEEAH!

SW: ...And he does that cool "MEEEAH!" move! Insano Mano just got a BIG MEEEAH!

RH: MEAH!

MM: Not such a big one on Brandon, though... maybe that was a "Mini-MEEAH"?

*Rimshot*

[The fans groan in unison again. Several throw paper cups at the audio booth in protest of yet another lousy pun.]

NH: Whoa, we're laying some eggs tonight, folks! Hey, how did the Geek and Lenny get all the way to the top of the cage? They're in the high-rent... and high-RISK district! The Geek has Lenny propped up there... He can't be serious...

MM: LOOK OUT BELOW!

BOOOM!

NH: SUPERDUPERPLEX! Insano Mano spikes the ball with a springboard twisting guillotine legdrop and covers Lenny! Uno, dos... umm.. Three-o! Lennys' marathon effort comes to an end!

MM: Brandon covers The Geek, who hasn't moved since hitting that huge move! And he's gone as well! There's just four men left in the ring!

NINETYFOURNINETYFIVENINETYSIX

MM: ...There's just five men... uhh, wrestlers left in the ring, as Kay Fabe makes her appearance!

SW: Eddie! Play the music! Eddie! ED! Quit staring at Heidis' tits and do your job!

NH: WHAT?

Eddie B: Huh?

SLAP!

Eddie B: OW!

NH: Oh, and Scotty?

SW: Uh-huh?

SLAP!

SW: OW! I wasn't staring!

NH: You were going to!

["Queer" finally plays, but Kays' already in the ring. Coma has given her a slip-on cast, which she places on her arm. A cowboy hat spontaneously generates on her head, along with a distinct paunch.]

MM: She's channelled Cowboy Bob Orton?

SW: Is that who it is? I thought she was doing D-Lo?

NH: D-Lo wore a chest protector, imbecile!

Eddie B: Can I protect YOUR chest, Heidi?

SLAP!

Eddie B: OW!

SW: HA!

SLAP!

SW: OW!

RH: MEEEEEAH!

Brandon: YOOOOOUUUU!

MM: Nice reversal by Brandon! Little Good and Kay Fabe double-team Mano with the rubber chicken and the measuring spoons respectively! The Geek is still at ringside... I wonder what his Forfeit is?

The Geek: (To camera) "Randomly interfere"... Here goes!

NH: The Geek reaches through the bars of the cage to trip Kay...

The Geek: OW!

NH: ...And she trod on his hand. So much for that potential feud. Insano Mano charges Kay... she ducks!

CLANG!

MM: OOOH! Somersault plancha into the steel cage! He's ripe for the pickings now! (Here's looking at you, Gorilla...)

Eddie B: Watch it, Scots-man! I gots to do a voice-over here...

SPLOSH

Voice-Over: stnad bck theers a hurnicansd commin thru n thst tha botom line

NH: *Sigh* Oh, joy it's XXXtreme Machine... He selects a joy-buzzer from Coma and enters the cage! Inside, Insano Mano crawls into a corner to recover! Garry Greene and Randy are exchanging punches in the center of the ring! Little Good appears to have remembered he's a heel and attacks Kay with a vase of begonias!

MM: When did THAT get in the ring? And why am I asking for logic this late in the night? Kay Fabe responds with some punches and uppercuts. And a big bodyslam! And she's changing gimmicks mid-match, as no-one in the audience is old enough to remember what Cowboy Bob Ortons' finisher was! The cowboy hat vaporises, her hair turns blond... What the...?

SW: Oh boy... did she just channel Little Good?

NH: I think so...

Little Good: HEY! That's bloody gimmick infringement, you silly bint!

Little Kay Fabegood: Sod off, you pillock!

MM: And the match enters a new stage of confusing silliness!

XXXtreme Machine: whi wont ne1 fihgt me cmon u pussseis

Randy: MEEEEEEEEAAH!

THUMP!

XXXtreme Machine: thnak u

SW: ONE! TWO! THREE! And it's goodbye to XXXtreme Machine! Garry puts Randy in an abdominal stretch and grabs the cage for leverage! Kay Fabe with a sloppy-as-all-get-out discus punch on Little Good! Brandon hits the Doctor Bomb on Insano Mano! Great skills!

MM: Scotty, are you trying to steal my job? Little Good returns the favour by nearly breaking Kays' neck on a BLEEP-ed up suplex!

SW: HEY! Now you're stealing MY lines! I'm the only one who gets' to BLEEP-ing swear on camera!

Eddie B: No BLEEP-in BLEEP, Whatbody...

GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE

[The Who kick in with "Who Are You?" as participant number... ummm.. I lost count. Anyway, the next guy is next.]

NH: It's Ed Tenta-Shaw!! I haven't seen him since the first Polarvision show! He looks confused, though... I hope someone assigned him a gimmick!

MM: It's okay, Heidi... It looks like Coma has a selection of gimmicks in the slightly less well-known BOB Relatively Tiny Bucket. Ed selects one...

Ed: (Reads) "You're an ex-marine with a liking for angora sweaters. Have fun." Oooo-kay.

NH: Ed prepares to enter the cage... wait! There's a zany coincidence! He's seen a fan wearing what appears to be an angora sweater in the balcony!

Ed: COVER ME! Bravo, Charlie, Charlie, I'm going in!

[He leaps the railing and dashes into the crowd.]

SW: Oh boy. How many days does this thing last? This was SUCH a bad idea...

[Cut to the BigBOSS]

The BigB: You ain't just whistling Dixie, Scotty! Look at these bills! Why the hell did Coma need to buy 144 chickens?

[Cut back to ringside]

FLUMPH!

[Assorted poultry-related noises fill the arena.]

MM: GOOD LORD! Chickens just fell from the ceiling! The ring is covered in them! Well, at least we'll eat tonight! One's pecking Brandon on the ear! Look at him flailing around in there! Insano Mano is being chickenpiled! Oh, the humanity! Little Good... or possibly Kay, it's hard to tell... has a chicken in each hand...

THUMPCLUCKcluckcluck...!

MM: DOUBLE CHICKEN DDT! Cover 'em in eleven secret herbs and spices, they're done! Ooh! Garry Greene just got pecked in the keister and he jumped right out of the ring in shock! Garry just got eliminated by a chicken! Unbelievable!

NH: He'll never live that one down! It's mayhem here, folks... we're going to take a short break!

[Cut back to the CLASSIX set. Coma appears to have gotten entangled in the gym's climbing bars. Little Good is watching his futile struggles with obvious amusement. GBH is still sitting at the CLASSIX desk.]

GBH: Huh? Whut?

[Cut back to the match. Most of the chickens are being herded into cages by The Flunky.]

MM: We're getting down to the nitty-gritty, folks! I've been informed that there's just TWO more entrants in the Coma Rules Rumble! And we're just seconds away from the penultimate man!

TALLY-HO

["Walk This Way" (Run DMC and Aerosmith Version) blasts out over the speakers as Sir Hungalot runs to the ring. He grabs his Hardcore Prop from Coma and stows it in his tights. Luckily, it was a very, VERY small Palm Pilot, or else he wouldn't have had the room for it there.]

NH: Since when was the Big Surs' music "Walk This Way"?

MM: Sorry, my elbow slipped. And as Sir Hunglaot enters the match, the Big Blue Cage (OF DEATH) is being raised! sir Hungalot makes his presence known with a swinging neckbreaker on Randy Handi! He quickly tries to throw him out! Can Sir Hungalot get Randy?

SW: From what I've seen of his films, I'd say that's a big "Yes"! Did you ever see "American Poontang Pie?" Or his Japanese flick, "The Revenge of Rodzilla"?

NH: Thankfully... no! Let's try and sum things up for our viewers, shall we? With one final entrant to come, we've got Randi Handy, Brandon, Little Good, Kay Fabe and Sir Hungalot still in there!

SW: Don't forget Ed Tenta-Shaw! He was never eliminated! He could still win this thing! Where is he, anyway?

[Ed conveniently stumbles back into shot. He's been beaten black and blue, but is wearing the shredded remains of a pink angora sweater. He wobbles into the ring and salutes the nearest camera. Well, the only camera, as Kamkorder Kid fled the building rather than face Bobo Fiendish after Alex Smiths' pummelling.]

Ed: Objective secured, sir! Minimal resistance!

[He gently topples over backwards. Kay easily pins him.]

MM: Okay, then. Brandon has locked up with Little Good and they're exchanging right hands! Little Kay has Sir Hungalot in a headlock and is really putting the pressure on! And Randy Handi is over at a turnbuckle with a Zippo lighter. I don't think he realises we can't afford pyro...

NH: Beautiful back suplex from the Knight in Latex Armour to escape the headlock! He straddles Kay...

[The rest of Heidi's line is drowned out with wolf whistles and drunken catcalls from every male in attendance. Including Scotty, naturally.]

NH: Oh, grow up, people! Brandon hits a standing dropkick on Little Good! He kips up quickly and heads to the top rope! Little Good rises... SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB! Brandon showing some skills!

SW: Neeh. I've seen better. Hey, we're counting down already! Here comes the last man!

POINK

[Coma pulls a squash racket out of his Bag o' Tricks and waves to the fans before rolling into the ring.]

MM: It's COMA! Coma is the last man! I see it all now! It's a conspiracy! Coma has entered as the last man to steal this Rumble and gain a title shot!

[Randy turns from the corner as Coma enters, grabs him by the throat and MEEEEAH's him out of the ring.]

SW: Ummm... good plan, shame about the outcome for Coma!

NH: Sir Hungalot breaks away from Kay and clotheslines Randy in the back! And he's gone! Coma attacks him on the floor... or possibly just stumbled into him... and they're brawling back to the locker room!

MM: Coma vs Randy? Yeah, THAT'll put butts in seats... well, we're down to our FINAL FOURSOME!

SW: Nope, it's a TERRIFIC TRIO! Kay was just backdropped out by Brandon!

NH: Correction! It's down to a TWOSOME THINGEE! Little Good sneakily tossed out Sir Hungalot from behind! Brandon vs Little Good! Who'll win this amazing match?!

MM: Little Good charges Brandon and goes for a dropkick!

THUD!

MM ...And he missed him by about six inches! Ahh, the technical skills of this young buck! Brandon grabs his legs... slingshot coming up....

ALL: AND THERE HE GOES!

MM: Brandon Wins! Brandon wins! He slingshot... slingshotted... slungshot... He eliminated Little Good with a slingshot over the top rope! What a match!

Eddie B: It's over, yo? So get the hell outta my booth, peeps!

[We get a lingering shot of Brandon standing on turnbuckle, soaking in the cheers (And deafening pre-teen squeals) of the fans.]


[Finally, we cut back to the CLASSIX set.]

GBH: Duh. Dat's it. We done. Yur.

Little Good: What? I came all the way out here for one bloody match? You pillock!

[GBH and Little Good get into a somewhat pathetic slap-fight. Coma waves at us from the gymnastic equipment he's now entangled in.]

Coma: That's all, kitties! It's not raining, so meet me in the haystack! Goodnight, everybody!

[Fade out.]


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© BOB Wrestling!

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