Only half done! Good thing this isn't a real fed, huh?
Part 1 | Part 2
[Darkness. Silence. It's as quiet as a tomb. For the Love of God, will you turn on your TV set!]
Englishman in a Sweatstained Brown Suit: ...And so, the majestic Fuzzy-Assed Wombat waddles slowly back to his den... or is it a set? I can never remember. Oh, does it really matter? It's a wombat, for heavans sake! It's an obese mouse with a pouch! He's lucky people haven't discovered how good he tastes, or he's an entree! (Pause) Not that I've ever eaten one... Me? Eat a protected species? Never! (Longer pause) Well, there was that horned owl back at Eaton, but that was a dare. (Really long pause) Anyway, back to the majestic Fuzz... oh, bugger! Where did the tubby little bastard go?
Englishman: What? Who said that?
[Me, the Detached Narrator! Why are you on our Pay-Per-View?]
Englishman: What bloody Pay-Per-View? This is the Discovery Channel!
[*sigh* Sorry about that. Our viewing public just ISN'T VERY BRIGHT! Will you PLEASE chage to the right station, people!]
Infomercial Announcer: ...And that's the cleaning power of PURE AVOCADOS for you, Sally!
Sally: Oooh! And it tastes GREAT on sandwiches, too!
Monotonic Woman with Extremely Fake Boobs: Ooh. Aah. Yeah, you're the king. Ooh.
Guy in a Loud Hawaiian Shirt: Todd, the tribe has spoken and voted you out. And since this is Extreme Survivor...
Monotonic Woman with Extremely Fake Boobs: Mmm. Ooh. Yeah, that's the one.
[HEY! You already checked that channel, you perv!]
Over-Zealous Announcer: Welcome to the World Series of Monster Truck Racing! It's going to be TRUCKTASTIC!
Soap-Opera Actress: Dax, I'm not the type of woman to be suspicious... but lately I've been coming to think you've been cheating on me. Dax? Dax, will you get off her when I'm talking to you?
Second Soap-Opera Actress: Ooh, ooh yeah. Just like that, Dax!
[A hand-lettered card appears on-screen]
Restless Part 1
"Let the shitfest begin," Xamfir exclaimed as he entered the living room of the Gellar home. Sarah was sitting on the right side of the brown couch, Kay Fabe on the left. Styles -- Mikey Styles -- sat in a chair to the right of Sarah. Xamfir headed to the television and grabbed a remote control.
"BOB pay-per-view. Is there REALLY nothing better on?" Sarah wondered. "I mean, BOB has it's charm, when I'm destroying all the jobbers there. Otherwise..."
"I'm sure it can't be too bad."
Everyone looked at Xamfir.
"Well, it can't be any worse than a WWE pay-per-view."
"Fair point," Styles said.
"Is it really $20? Sheesh. There better be some nudity."
"Kay!" Sarah yelled in shock.
"What? Candy Cantaloupes could lose her top. Or Heidi."
"Is it any wonder Kay is my best friend?" Xamfir asked. "We can talk about hot chicks together. Especially when Jeannie isn't around, in the sense that she isn't here and won't hear me and dig her nails deep into my gut and squeeze my bladder till it explodes and then replaces it and squishes it again."
"Anyhow, let me just push this button here and let the show begin..." Xamfir said.
"I can't believe we all drank so much coffee before. We're no doubt going to be up all night long," Styles said. "And that was a funny trick, putting the No-Doze in Kay's coffee."
"Who did the what in the what?" Kay asked.
"Thank you for your order," Xamfir read from their television screen. "Well you're quite welcome. There's $20 I likely won't see for another three months."
"Oh, you're treating? Phew. I was worried I'd have to pay," Sarah said with a smile.
"D'oh! I mean, uh, that's..." he pauses to count all four people in the room. "Five bucks each. Ah, much better. That will only be three weeks of no money. We really need to get into this minimum wage thing. I hear Best Buy is hiring."
"Maybe we could just rob a bank all whacked on the Scooby snacks."
"Hello, wrong gang, it would be Shaggy snacks," Kay corrected.
The Shaggy gang all turned their attention to the show. Xamfir sat down on the floor.
BOB was BACK on Pay-Per-View!
"You can all watch me on the show," Styles pointed out.
"How? Isn't this live?" Sarah asked.
"You really think there could be a live Coma-booked pay-per-view?"
"Nobody put spoilers out on the Internet?" Sarah wondered. "That's so..so..SO sad. I thought I was a big draw."
"I guess most of our fans don't have computers. Or the ability to read," Styles said. "But just know, we're doing good work. None of these wrestlers are getting into better federations. The world is safe."
"Now if only we could take care of A-Train. And most of the Raw roster. This war-torn, budget-strapped world just might find some peace and money," Xamfir said.
[A cheap-ass logo. "17th Century Coma Presents:" Nice work, Monkeyboy... you found the Pay-Per-View Channel! Have a peanut!]
Voice-Over: Once every thousand years, there comes an event of earth-shaking magnitude! An unforgettable moment, that changes all those who witness it! This... is not one of those moments.
Voice-Over: This is better.
[Fade to black. A lightning flash. A roll of thunder. A chicken squawks. And we fade up on a Gothic cattle, evil and brooding.]
[Oops, typo. Make that a Gothic caSTLe. A bat flaps toward to the camera.]
Bat: Don't look at me, I'm just adding atmosphere. Chirp.
[Creepy organ music plays as the scene shifts to a crumbling, decaying laboratory deep in the castles interior. Moisture drips from the walls, coloured liquids bubble in crucibles, strange pieces of equipment whirr and crackle. A hulking figure stands at a table, back to the camera. The spooky atmosphere is slightly spoiled as the unseen organist switches to the opening notes of "A Whiter Shade of Pale". The figure straightens up.]
Bobo Q. Fiendish: Who changed my CD? Hmmm.. How did YOU get in here?
BQF: (To camera) I thought I had the drawbridge UP tonight....
Coma: Narf! Thomas the Tank Engine has been derailed! You gotta come back, Mikey! Lassie will be missing you! Neep. I have money.
BQF: Bully for you... it still has Jim Carreys face on it. Go away.
Coma: Hank called yo momma a Mack Truck in High Heels...
BQF: Henry? Who's giving him cut lessons? The four-H club?
Coma: Neep. Sign here...
[He hands Bobo a halibut]
BQF: Looks a bit fishy to me, Bill... I'll pass. Go long...
Coma: Schweek! (Runs off)
[Cut to the Moosehead Arena, in Kitchener, Ontario. Canada, which is crammed to the rafters with an varied assortment of Canadians, in various states of inebriation. Loud bagpipe music is playing at nose-hair-curling volume. The arena is decorated in a style best described as "Early Victorian Headinjury"... One balcony has been strung with Peking Ducks, another is wrapped in red neon tubing and sweatsocks. Fake palm trees are everywhere, several with monkeys in the leaves. An entire section of fans have been dressed as "Issac" from the Love Boat. Banners hang from the ceiling, advertising the "Brand Spanking New 1957 Ford Mustang!" The ring is painted to look like a tennis court, complete with net. The Masked Announcer is perched in an umpires chair, with the Flunky dressed like a ballboy. The BOB-tron has been placed on a wheeled TV trolley, and is currently being dragged around the arena by a bull terrier. Cut to Michael Buffer, standing in the parking lot.]
MB: Hey, what's up. Welcome to BOB. (To someone off-screen) What's the show again? Thanks. Yeah, so it's time for BOB's "Send Us Money: Coma Get Some!".
Off-Screen Voice: Say your catchphrase!
MB: Not until I get my 20K...
[Cut back inside to Mark Shill]
MS: HI BOB FANS! And WELCOME to BOB'S "SEND US MONEY: POINKaMANIA I"!!! UuuuahhhhhhhHHHHHHHHLET'S GET READY TO RUMMMMMMMMMMMBA!
Michael Buffer's Voice: You'll hear from my lawyer, Shill!
[Latin-American music begins to play as a dozen or so of BOB's C-Roster dance down the aisle. Man, Sculder and Mully can move! Blackjack Hooligan on the other hand... Left feet to spare!]
BH: I'm wearing high heels, pally! Like to see you do any better, ya feckin' eedjit!
MA: Ladies, Gentlemen and Mothercanuckers.... COMA!
[Eddie B switches us swiftly into a Ramones Medley as The Dancing Jobbers line the aisle, spraying a curtain of Silly String and Ezy-Cheez. Coma emerges in a wetsuit and zooms down the aisle on a oil-coated Slip'N'Slide. He bounds into the ring and grabs a Mike]
MM: Hey! Fresh!
Coma: Helllllo, Rejivak! Can you find my trombone, it's getting chilly! Narf!
Drunk Guy in the Fifth Row: You tell 'em, eh?
Coma: And when it rains, there's no telling where Clyde put the tyre iron! Poink!
[Stock footage of Beatles-era crowds storming a stage.]
Coma: Thank yewwww... and now, on with the shew!
MM: Hi, folks... I'm Mike "The Monotone" Monroe!
NH: I'm Nurse Heidi!
RvW: I'm former rap megastar Rob van Winkle! Wassup, biatch!
MM: Vanilla Ice, Heidi.
JP: I'm washed-up TV actor Jason Priestly!
MWLaLLEP: I'm a Man Who Looks a Lot Like Elvis Presley! Uh-huh.
SW: And I'm Scotty Whatbody! Welcome to what's probably going to be the most POINKed-up show in BOB's NURFed-up history!
NH: A what show, Scoot?
SW: Holy NARF, what did Coma do to the GLEEP-damned bleep machine?
MM: In any event, it's time to get things rolling here... let's head up to The Masked Announcer for the first match... whatever it may be!
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, our opening contest is scheduled for one set. Uhh, fall. And it is the first match in a Best-of-Seven Series, beginning tonight! And finishing, TONIGHT!
RvW: Say what? You guys are having ALL the matches in a seven-match series tonight?
MM: Apparently so, Rob!
RvW: What idiots did you find to do THAT?
[Riffle of script pages.]
SW: Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano, who else?
MA: Thank you, Mr Whatbody, I WAS about to announce that! Yes folks, it's the "Coma Invitational Ultra-Violence Deathmatch Series"!
SW: I LIKE it!
NH: I should have guessed. Blood or boobies and Scottys' a happy man.
SW: I have simple tastes.
MA: The first match... The "Pillowfight Deathmatch"!
[Cut to Ken and Insano, knee-deep in comfy cushions. Insano raises a down-filled pillow and STRIKES!]
[Ken no-sells! Ken no-sells! Ken no-sells!]
KK: No-sells? It was a pillow, man!
[He raises HIS pillow... something is protruding from the pillowcase.]
Caption with Helpful Flashing Arrow: ENGINE BLOCK FROM A '67 CHEVY.
Insano: Pienso esto voy a ser una noche bastante larga....
[Ken swings... and we cut back to the arena at the moment of impact. XXXtreme Machine runs past, dressed like a giant hotdog. Candy Cantaloupes chases him, waving Mr Bat.]
SW: I feel slightly hollow.
JP: Excuse me, does anyone have my script? Everyone else has a script, where's mine?
SW: Oh, shut your cakehole, Priestly... I GAVE you your script!
JP: This isn't a script... it's a piece of paper with "Sit there and wait until someone hits you with a chair" written on it!
MM: Yep, that's your script, all right.
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for our first REAL match, and it will be a TRIPLE THREAT Match!. Introducing first, from Uhhh, Who Knows... HEAD TRAUMA BOY FLATLINE!
Voice-Over: Uhhh... What's my catchprase again? Huh?
["Generic Guitar Riff #7" plays as Flatline is shoved through the curtain. He takes a few minutes to orientate himself, then wanders off in the general direction of the ring. Cut to Styles, dangling upside down from the lighting gantry.]
Styles: OH MY GOD!
Styles: OH, MY HEAD!
MM: Well, what a development! Who would have thought that Comas' former tag-team partner Flatline, who's reportedly spent the last 14 months sitting on his couch watching nothing but reality shows, *inhale* would be here tonight for this auspicious occasion!
NH: Thank you, Mr Exposition!
MWLaLLEP: Uh-huh-huh! Thank you very much!
MA: And his opponent... returning to BOB after a brief stay in rehab... followed by an even lengthier stay in Kingston, Jamaica... DOUJA!
[Eddie B cues Clarence Carters "Strokin'", which has been badly over-dubbed, replacing each "Strokin'", with "Smokin'". douja emerges from a cloud of smoke... and no, that's NOT the Flunky with a fire extinguisher this time.]
SW: Returning? He was here for BaseBRAWL...
NH: Try telling Coma that.
MM: It's DOUJA! Returning to BOB!
MA: I just SAID that!
NH: Oh, just announce the last person, Neville, or we'll be here all week!
MA: Whatever... From Parts Classified... SCULDER!
Voice-Over: Look! What's that over there?
All Announcers: HUH? Where?
[Ans like magic, Sculder is in the ring. *sigh* I'm too sober for this...]
SW: Wow, where did he come from?
MM: That's spooky!
JP: Oh, come on! He just came out when weren't lookin...
MS: GOT HIM! That was the GREATEST CHAIRSHOT IN WRESTLING HISTORY!
SW: Oh, hi Mark!
MS: Fans, this match looks to be a classic in the making! Three of the GREATEST WRESTLERS in HISTORY square off right here! Two former 3-4-1 Tag Champions and the most decorated stoner in BOB's storied history get ready to do battle! IT'LL BE GREAT!
NH: Mark, you're a marvel... Arguably the worst wrestler BOB has ever had is making his way to the ring...
SW: Second worst.
[Cut to XXXtreme Machine]
XM: wot? hay i got s kweston mrk tahts prety gud 4 mi
NH: ...Flatline once got trapped in his own locker for a week, and doujas fallen off the wagon into a hemp plantation by the look of it! And you STILL make it sound like Flair versus Steamboat in their primes!
MM: He's got a special talent, all right!
RvW: Uh, why are we talking so much? Is there going to be a match, or what?
[We cut to a shot of douja, still trying to find the ring. I'll speed things along. A giant eagle swoops down and plucks up douja, depositing him gently in the ring.]
douja: Whoa... Thass some trippy shit, muddafucker!
MM: And we're FINALLY ready to get under way! There's the bell...
MM: Would somebody please ring it?
GBH: Duh. Sorry. Hee.
MS: AND HERE WE GO! douja charges at Flatline with a clothesline!
SW: And misses.
MM: Flatline with a dropkick!
SW: Missed by a foot!
MS: Sculder bounces off the ropes...
SW: ...And falls right through them. I'm gonna go get a burger.
RvW: Damn, dogg!
MS: Douja finally manages to orientate himself.. BIIIIIG bodyslam! What a MOVE! The GREATEST SLAM IN BOB'S HISTORY!
NH: Too bad he did it on the Generic Ref instead of Flatline. Sculders' trying to get back into the ring... Still trying. Now he's got his arm caught in them. Oops, and his head. Scotty! Want to give him a boost on the way through?
Sculder: Thank you, Mysterious Force that aided me into the ring! I want to believe!
MM: Flatline with a headbutt on douja! Lucky he bent over to pick up that penny, or we'd NEVER have seen a move in this match. He runs to the ropes... and gets distracted halfway and wanders off. Stick with us folks, this could take a while.
BOB: The Profanity! Collect the three-CD set of Scotty Whatbody's Greatest on-Air Cusswords! All your favorites are on here! Including "CRAP!", "GOD-DAMMIT!" and "Fuckityfuckfuckfuck!". As a bonus, we'll throw in a copy of XXXtreme's autobiography "a quit ordngary lyf bi XXXTreem machene" for FREE!
XXXtreme Machine: tits a gud reed so git 1 2day biathc
SW: (Running back to the table) Who said tits are good?
NH: Calm down, Scoot, it's just an XXXtreme-ism.
MS: Well fans, this titanic struggle continues in the ring! What action we've seen so far! Let's show you some highlights of what happened during the break.
[Split-screen effect. One one side of the screen, we see the live feed, where douja is selling a baggie to Flatline. On the other...]
[Sculder picks up Flatline for a shoulderbreaker, misses his knee entirely and drops the poor guy on his head.]
[HEY! Quit interrupting me, whoever you are!]
[I didn't interrupt! I'm you from a few minutes ago, describing the action from earlier. And doing a much better job that you did, I might add.]
[Come over to MY screen and say that!]
RvW: This SQUEEKs gettin' wack, man!
Sw: No BI-BEEP kidding, Rob.
NH: EVERYBODY DOWN!
NH: What the heck was THAT supposed to be, Sculder?
Sculder: (From the vicinity of the floor) Um... a cross-bodyblock, I think. Did I do it wrong?
MWLaLLEP: Uh-huh-huh! The ring's THAT way! Thank ya very much!
SW: Hey, look! douja actually got off a move!
MM: What was it? Detached Narrator?
[OW! Let go of my leg! No, YOU let go! OW! Dirty fighter!]
NH: *sigh* Can we please end this thing? Coma, how about a run-in?
Styles: (Backstage, standing knee-deep in Strawberry Pop-Tarts) OH MY GOD!
MS: Look at this! A former "YGHF" Tag Team Champion is charging the ring!
SW: Dude, that's Eddie B.! He's not going to be any good...
MS: He's going to the top... GOOD LORD! The "Geting Down Wit' My Funky Bad Self" Shooting Star Press!
[You BIT me!]
[Shut up, crybaby.]
NH: Can we get ANOTHER run-in, please? And a stretcher for Eddie.
MS: And HERE COMES LITTLE GOOD!
SW: Yeah, good call. Send in the sloppiest worker in the company. But he's in the ring, anyway... WHOA!
MS: CHRONIC NECK PAIN! Copy and paste! Copy and paste! douja hit the copy and paste on Little Good! He covers!
GR: I can't count him! He's not part of the match!
SW: I've got ten bucks! Count him!
RvW: I throw in a twenny!
NH: And a copy of my old "Hardcore Magazine" layout!
GR: Onetwothree! It's over, ring the bell!
GBH: Huh? Whut?
MA: Ding! Here is your winner... DOUUUJJJJJAAAAAA!
[Yay. let's cut away before he can get any applause. The following is a Public Service Announcement... oh, wait, I'm sorry, someone just handed me a cue card and now it's a Public Rape Announcement. Gee, I wonder who's responsible for this?]
=<>: NOW HEAR THIS, MOTHERFUCKERS. WE ARE FESTERING DEATH.
=C]: FO' SHIZZLE.
=<>: AND THIS IS A PUBLIC RAPE ANNOUNCEMENT.
=<>: NOW, OBVIOUSLY, SOME OF YOU HAVE BEEN CONCERNED ABOUT OUR BEHAVIOUR IN THESE LAST COUPLE OF SHOWS. I DON'T WANT TO SAY WEEKS BECAUSE THIS IS *BOB* AND THIS PLACE NEVER GETS ENOUGH MONEY TO PUT OUT A WEEKLY SHOW.
=C]: THAT AND BIGBOSS IS LAZY.
=<>: SO, SO LAZY.
=<>: ANYWAY, OUR BEHAVIOUR HAS INVOLVED THE DEATHS OF VARIOUS SPORTS FIGURES, FOLLOWED THUSLY BY THEIR RAPES. I MEAN, HELL, HAVE WE EVER DEFENDED OUR GROSS AMOUNT OF CHAMPIONSHIPS THAT WE GLASS CEILINGED OURSELVES INTO OBTAINING?
=C]: THERE WAS THAT ONE TIME.
=<>: WELL, AT LEAST WE DEFEND MORE OFTEN THAN TRIPLE H.
=C]: A DEAD HAMSTER POST-ME-RAPEAGE HAS DEFENDED HIS HAMSTER CHAMPIONSHIP MORE THAN TRIPLE H HAS EVER DEFENDED ANYTHING.
=<>: WELL MET. ANYWAY, WE ARE HERE TO TELL YOU THAT WE ARE SMILIES. IF YOU'RE OFFENDED BY SOMETHING THAT WE DO, WELL, I'D FLIP YOU OFF, BUT I LACK THE FINGERS TO DO SO. FOR EXAMPLE, LET'S SAY THAT THIS GUY COMES BY.
[This Guy wanders on camera.]
This Guy: Hi.
This Guy: Hey... ow... *falls over*
=<>: NOW, OBVIOUSLY, THAT STAB WOUND WAS RATHER FATAL. YOU CAN TELL BECAUSE THIS GUY'S INTESTINES SLID OUT OF HIS STOMACH AND SPLATTERED ALL OVER THE FLOOR LIKE A MESSY PLATE OF ROTTEN SPAGHETTI. OBVIOUSLY, YOU ALL SHOULD KNOW WHAT COMES NEXT.
=C]: THAT'S RIGHT!
=<>: SEE, THIS PROVES HOW ONE-DIMENSIONAL WE ARE. SO, INSTEAD OF THAT, SPACECOP AND I SHALL START EXERCISING OUR FORMIDIBLE SECOND DIMENSION.
=C]: THIS SECOND DIMENSION IS VERY AWESOME.
=C]: DUDE, YOU FARTED.
=<>: I SO DID. HAHAHAHAHAHA. FUCK YOU.
[Quick jump-cut to Insano Mano and Kamikazie Ken, both blindfolded.]
Voice-Over: Match two: The "Blindfold, Room Full of Landmines" Match! *dingdingding*
[Ken and Insano begin gingerly inching their way into the room. The camera pulls back to reveal the floor is suspiciously free of explosives, but is ringed with BOB-sters, all trying to stifle their laughter. Coma is holding a blown-up paper bag, and looks set to pop it.]
[Cut back to the team]
MM: I guess we'll call that one a draw, then. Ken remains in the lead by one match to nil!
Sign: Insert Commichael Brake Here. Poink.
[We cut backstage to water cooler, to find the iAd attempting to look cool as they stand around it. Dennis arrives, dressed as a penguin]
Dennis: Gosh, chaps! Shouldn't you get changed? The "Dancing Penguin" segment is next!
Steve Studnuts: Forget it, jerkweed! The iAd isn't here as Comic Relief... we're all business.
Seth: Damn straight! You think we're going to act stupid with Coma? Nuh-uh!
[Oh really... just let me play this tape from Blood, Sweat and Chairs Wrestling... and hey, look! There's Coma, tagging with Seth in a comedy match! Isn't that amusing!]
Seth: HEY! Cut the footage!
[And here's some backstage footage showing Seth joking around with the boys!]
Seth: I am SO warning you!
[And here's a shot of Seth dancing with Too Lame... he's doing the Worm! He's doing the Worm!
Seth: You made that shit up! That's IT! Detached Narrator! You, me, TONIGHT!
[Ha! You're on, Mr "Serious" Wrestler! ]
Dennis: Gosh! How exciting! Although it'll probably turn into one of those 3-on-1 iAd beatdowns if Seth gets in trouble.
Steve Studnuts: I'd say that's a good guess... We got your back, Seth.
TV: Now get the hell out of here, scrub! We're the iAd, and we're NOT here to make anyone laugh!
Dennis: Yes, I've watched "Mystery Sports Entertainment Theatre 3000"... and you're doing a smashing job of not making ME laugh, I must say.
Steve Studnuts: Can I hurt this guy?
TV: Get in line, Studs!
[Cue the beatdown! Ooh, Dennis goes down in a flurry of blows! Just like Harker will when he faces ME tonight! Wait, what's this? A man in a suit just arrived!]
Man in Suit: Stop it! Unhand that defenseless penguin! John Oak-Hugger, PETA Penguin Protection Squad! You're under arrest!
TV: This aint no penguin! It's a weedy English guy!
Man in Suit: An ENGLISH penguin? They're the rarest type! You're going to fry for this! PETA Riot Squad! FORWARD!
[Four Riot Policemen run into shot. The largest one is wearing his helmet backwards.]
Large Policeman: Duh. Who put der light out? Yur.
2nd Policeman: Come under with us, arrest your! Them officer, cuff!
3rd Policeman: What cuffs? I aint seen no cuffs. Nobuddy saw any cuffs! Fuggeddaboutit!
4th Policeman: cum quitly oar theer wil bee t4ruble col i sohun lik robbopco[p
Large Policeman: Dur. PUNCH!
4th Policeman: ow
2nd Policeman: Arrest resisting are they! Tazer me the give!
[There's a brief, though semi-coherant struggle. Afte the dust settles, Seth and Dennis are all that remain in shot.]
Seth: Uh, guys? Guys? Damn it, NOW who's going to watch my back?
[Ha! See you in the ring, lucha-Dork! And that was such a good line, we'll cut back to ringside before he can respond! Ooh, look! Dancing penguins at ringside!]
SW: Man, Why is Coma giving XXXtreme Machine so much airtime on this Pay-Per-View?
XM: he tniks im funi
MM: Oh, what are YOU doing here?
XM: collor comintray
MM: Super. I'm out of here!
NH: Me too!
SW: Have fun, Mark!
MS: SHILL and XXXTREME MACHINE! It's the GREATEST ANOUNCE team ever!
XM: DAM RITE!
RvW: Hey, I'm still here too, yo!
MA: The following contest is a "Falls Count Anywhere in the Arena Except the Ring" Match, scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, THE Undietaker! Sorry, I meant, The UNDIETAKER!
XM: hrugh helfye n br9nstne tits the unietoaka
MS: I couldn't have put it better myself, XXXtreme Machine!
GBH: Duh. I could've. Yur.
[The lights dim, as the Undietaker stalks menacingly down the aisle. Which Undietaker? I can't tell, the Flunky dimmed the lights a little too much.]
MA: And his opponent... the OTHER UNDIETAKER!
Styles: (Emerging briefly from under the ring) OH MY GOD!
MS: GOOD NIGHT!
RvW: What, are we finished already?
MS: (Ignoring him) It's the Undietaker vs The Undietaker! The Feud of the CENTURY is set to explode RIGHT HERE at "Send Us Money: Traumavision"!
XM: wooww thish is gona b a 5 stra ncoonta al rite
RvW: What's a "ncoonta", dogg?
XM it s a cnotets dumbmu a cotnest wha t r u stipd or sumthnig
MS: WEDGIE-ASSISTED CHOKESLSAM FROM HELL!
MS: ON THE RAMP! There's a cover!
XM: won tow threee tis ova
MS: WHAT a MATCH! A bloody, brutal brawl for the ages!
RvW: Th' hell?
Danny Bonaduce: Got him! Yes it's me, Danny Bonaduce, here to SAVE the show!
RvW: Good shot, dude. Although I think you were supposed to hit me...
DB: You mean that's NOT Rob van Winkle?
XM: no im nto an ur chersht was phtetik biondanuce
DB: What did he say?
MS: Boy, I hope we can afford all these cameo appearances Coma keeps booking....
DB: Don't sweat it, I'm even CHEAPER than Jason Preistly...
[We suddenly cut to a small Tasmanian man drinking a huge can of Fosters]
[And just as quickly cut to Masssive Man Rendition First and Rob van Winkle on a small stage in the parking lot. Eddie B. is nearby, scratchin' a up a beat on his 12-inch. Sounds icky. Must be a pre-taped segment, because he doesn't look concussed.]
MMRF: Yo! Since everyone else is doing that "rapping" shit, I'm getting in on the action too. Uh, yo. So, we here to play my FIRST solo hit single, "Don't Make Me Slap You Like a Bitch, Bitch!". And here to help me sing it, is Rob van Winkle! Rob, you know all about the sex, the drugs and the women in the music industry, right?
MMRF: So like, how do I get me some? The last time a chick threw her panties on stage at one of my concerts, they were Barbie Underoos! And thass just not right, man!
RvW: Uhh... I'm probably the wrong person to ask about that, yo? All my female fans were legal!
[Cut to former "New Kid on the Block" Donny Whalbergs' house.]
DW: Hey, it's easy, Massive Man! Just ask for her number, then nail her mom!
[Back to MMRF and R-V-Dub]
MMRF: Cool! Okay, let's KICK IT!
[Generic "Beats" play as...]
MMRF: (Raps) Yo! Don't make me slap you like a bitch...
MMRF: Don't make me slap you like a bitch...
MMRF: Don't make me slap you like a bitch...
MMRF: 'Cause I will.
[Eddie B. goes into a massive scratching break. Since that's boring as all get out, we'll cut to two Shakespearian actors locked in a closet.]
Juliet: Oh, Romeo, Romeo... Wherefore art thou, Romeo?
Romeo: What, are you fucking blind?
Juliet: Oh Romeo, Romeo... whatforeart poking me in the thigh?
Romeo: Uhhh... that's my... quill.
[Cut to Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano in a rough-walled stone pit.]
Voice-Over: Match Three: The PIT OF AGONY match!
[They lock up, just as William Shatner is lowered into the pit on a rope, holding a cordless mic.]
WS: (Sings) Sonnnnng, sung, BLUEEEE! (Pause) Ev'rybody knows.... ONE!
IM: ¡NoOOOOOOO! ¡Funcione para él, Ken! ¡Es una caza del insecto! ¡Excepto se, mi amigo! ¡Nos condenan! ¡Mujeres y luchadores primeras! ¡Cabeza para las colinas!
[Cut to Styles in an ESPN Sportcenter-type studio.]
Styles: The match was called a draw after both men ran away. Ken remains in the lead by one to nothing.
[Cut to a forest in Manitoba]
Moose: What are YOU looking at, eh?
[Cut to the Masked Announcer]
MA: The following contest is a Water Gun Duel, set for one soaking! Introducing first, MR X!
[A quick shot of Mr X in a dusty Wild West street, loading his piece.]
MA: And his opponent... DEATH!
SW: Hey, this isn't fair! Mr X has a REAL gun!
Death: What do you think THIS is? A tuba?
Sherrif Referee: Uhh... ding?
SW: Now THAT's jump-starting a match!
NH: Death is still standing! Mr X must realise you can't kill Death...
DB: Hasn't stopped him trying, though...
MR X: *BANG!* So how you doin', Death? *BANG!* *BANG*
Death: Fine. *BANG* Why do you ask?
Mr. X: Why you asking so many questions? Oww. My chest hurts. *Thud*
Passerby: Where'd they hit you, boy?
Mr. X: You'd like to know, wouldn't ya? Nobody shot me. Nobody. *Dies*
[Don't worry, he'll be fine next by weeks card. Hey, look.. a run-in by Gary Cooper! He must be pissed we're stealing from "High Noon"...]
MM: It can't be Gary Cooper... he's dead!
[Are you sure?]
Death: Trust me on this one... Monroes' right.
[So who did Coma get instead?]
Gary Coleman: Watchoo talking about, Death?
Death: Oh, for purgatorys' sake. TOUCH OF DEATH!
Styles: (Leaning on the bar in a Wild West Saloon) OH MY GOD, PARTNER! Death killed Gary Coleman!
MS: This is INCREDIBLE, folks! Only on BOB's Pay-Per-Views will you see celebrity deaths as great as THIS!
SW: Can we PLEASE have a proper match, Coma! How about a title match? God knows we've got enough of them!
[Cut to a power-suit-ed woman sitting at a computer, bathed in soft yellow lights.]
God: I certainly do.
[Cut to Coma in the ring.]
Coma: Ladies and gentlebongs! This handicap rutabaga is scheduled for nineteen muffins, with a timelimit of nine days, or the nearest equivalent offer! And it will be for the "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR POINKING MIND?" title belt with matching pants!
NH: Looks like you got your wish, Scotty.
Coma: Introducing first... the wham-bang-thank-you-spam hardcore champion... the AYOOYFM TITLE BELT!
[Cut to the AYOOYFM Belt, draped over a tunbuckle. A microphone is propped up next to it.]
AYOOYFM Belt: " "
MM: Strong words for his oppenents there...
Coma: And his opponents... Meep. At at total combined specific gravity of 10, 000 giganurfles per square root... the "YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING, I AINT DOING THAT!" Belt and the (Badly synched dubbed deep voice) "HIROHITO? THIS IS NOT TOKYO!" Title belt!
[Another shot of the ring. The other two title belts are hung over the ropes like pieces of forgotten clothing in the Laundromat of History.]
DB: Does that Narrator guy always get so poetic?
SW: Only when he's been drinking...
NH: Oh, there you are Elvis-ish Man... I thought you'd left the building.
MWLaLLEP: Believe me, li'l lady... I tried. Oh, how I tried.
MS: This should be one HELL of a match, folks! Three of the most battle-scarred, match-hardened veterans of Hardcore Wrestling are ready to go at it!
GBH: Duh. Ding. Yur.
MS: AND HERE WE GO!
[Long shot of the ring.]
MS: It's a cautious start from all concerned. Each belt waiting for the other to make the first move.
[Even longer shot of the ring. Finally, I take the initiative to cut away to Kamikazie Ken and Insano Mano, strapped into huge catapults.]
Voice-Over: Match Four: The Horizontal Bungy Rumble! Dingdingding!
[Slowly, Kens catapult topples backwards. A few seconds pass before...]
[Ken whistles skywards with a Goofy-esque "Ya-hooo-hoo-hooo-hooie!" A few moments pass before he returns into shot, proceeding rapidly in the direction of down. The squeamish may wish to flip back to the Discovery Channel briefly.]
[As the dust settles, Insano Mano's catapult topples forwards, landing on Kens motionless body. A referee runs into shot.]
Ref: One! Two! Three!
IM: ¡Ha! ¡Coma mi polvo, amigo! Ahora, podría alguien desatarme antes...
[Two forms hurtle heavenwards, screaming in harmony. Back to the ring. The "YGBKIADT" belt slowly slithers off the ropes and thumps onto the mat.]
Restless Part 2
Back at the Gellar house, everyone was sleeping. Even a mouse that had been walking by, trying to grab a chip from a bowl on the coffee table. He happened to look up at the match and fell asleep. The camera quickly zoomed in on Kay Fabe.
"Owww. Hey. Watch that!" Kay shouted at the camera. She then went back to "sleep." And began dreaming.
Kay Fabe waited outside the building where the last Classix took place. She couldn't remember where it was and now, being asleep, realistically couldn't go to the BOB Web site and look it up. Kay was out there, pacing back and forth. It was a dark and stormless night. The air was kind of chilly. Her nipples were erect. She brushed her red hair away from her face.
There was the oddest scraping noise from somewhere nearby. What was that?
"You're back? They say criminals always return to their scenes," Candy Cantaloupes told her.
"Is my acting that bad?" Kay wondered.
"No. I meant the killing crime. This is where it happened. Why are you here? Why aren't you in bed with me?"
"Things on my mind. Bad things. Urge to kill. Destroy. Run fingers down chalkboard. Drive 110 in an SUV with the windows down and air conditioner on."
Kay spun around.
"Ready to kill me again?" a dark figure in a fedora and white and black sweater asked. He flashed up a glove with sharp knives on the tips!
"Ahhhhhh!" went Kay, who fell backward. Suddenly, she was in a big, pink box. "What the?" She stood up and walked along the brown carpet.
"Did you see him?" Candy asked?
"I did. He can't kill me, can he?"
"Dommy Krueger can kill you. After all, you killed him. And now he haunts your sleep. But oddly, not the sleep of the children of the people who lived on the street where he died."
"Well, they really didn't help me kill the Domino much."
"Ah, I see. So, once you're dead, his spirit will rest. There's only one way to stop him."
"I'll let Insano Mano field that one."
Mano came into view, ready to speak, but Kay threw a fireball at him. He ran around screaming "ay-yi-yi" and then a fishbowl fell on his head, extinguishing the blaze, but trapping his head inside. His foot stepped on a rake, which came up and smashed the glass. Then, Kay found herself on a couch, in front of a photographer and a crew. She looked down to see she was in a skin-tight scuba suit.
"Whoa! Look at me. Look at those."
"Now, slowly unzip the suit," the photographer said. "All the men who look at Playboy are gonna love this issue. Redheaded lesbians are the in thing."
"Men? No! No! Nooooo!"
She got up and started to run. She found herself in the hallway of a boiler room. The room was lit by a fiery orange glow. She looked around and heard that strange scraping noise again. Metal blades on fingers meeting brick. She looked around. Saw a metal door at the end of the hall. Ran for it. Ran with all her might and crashed into the door and fell to the concrete outside. She stood up and saw herself standing in front of The Domino outside. He was tied to four horses. Death, Famine, War and Pestilence sat on their multi-colored apocalyptic horses.
"Thanks guys," the evil Kay told them.
"Anything for you, my dear," War said. "After all, next year, you're gonna give us one of the greatest wars EVER! /end dead valley girl
"Nooooooo!" the good Kay screamed, but the REAL Four Horsemen whipped their horses. Blood was like dew on the grass, and evil Kay stared at the Domino's torso on the ground. Very gruesome. Too graphic for BOB on television, but that's why we have pay-per-view! Two of the horsemen rode away with an arm each, the other two each had a leg.
Kay came face to face with Kay.
"That was very bad of me. But not as bad as this!" evil Kay told good Kay.
"TOTAL EVISCERATION!" Styles made the call. "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"
Kay stared in horror at the eyes of Dommy Krueger in her dream.
Back in the living room, Kay grabbed her belly and began gasping for air.
[Cut to Coma, clad in blue jeans and a checked T-shirt, sitting on a hale bale. He strums an accoustic guitar and sings...]
Coma: I remember when....
Coma: (spoken) Ummmmmm..... Nope! It's gone... Poink.
[Cut to the laboratory set seen in the opening Bobo Q Fiendish sketch. Dr Azathoth is standing before a large cage with various attached gadets, doohickies and thingees protruding from it.]
Dr Azathoth: NYA-HA-HAHAAAAA!!! HA! HA-HAAAA! HA-HAAA! Ha! Ha-ha... heh. *sigh* Ha. IGORRRR!
[A stereotyped hunchback lab assistant sidles into shot.]
Igor: Poink, Mathter?
Dr Azathoth: Behold! My latest creation!
Dr Azathoth: YETH! I mean, YES! But not just any ORDINARY chickens! Behold FURTHER!
[He scoops a chicken from its cage and throws it into the air.]
Dr Azathoth: FLY! Fly my pretty!
Dr Azathoth: *ahem* Run! Run, my pretty!
Dr Azathoth: (Amid a gentle shower of feathers) You see? I have created the Hen Grenade!
["Igor" runs over to a conveniently-placed drumkit.]
[We cut back to the ring. Shattered tables litter the ring and a buckled steel chair is draped over a ringpost. The "Hirohito? This is Not Toyko?" title is lying over both the Hardcore belts.]
GR: ONE! TWO! THREE!
MA: Here is your winner... and NEWWWWWWWW "YOU GOTTA BE OUT OF YOUR FRICKIN' MIND, I AINT DOING THAT!" Champion... the (Badly-synched dubbing) "HIROHITO? THIS IS NOT TOKYO!" (Regular voice) TITLE BELT!
MS: WHAT A MATCH! In all my years of commentating, THAT was the damndest thing EVER! I have NEVER, EVER seen anything like that in my LIFE!
DB: I have, but not since I got clean and sober...
The next match is brought to you by HELIUM! The FUN element! Still TWICE as popular as nitrogen! And as for Carbon? Pah! What are you, some sort of Commie?
Americans love HELIUM! God bless it!
SW: (High-pitched voice) Boy, now THAT was a persuasive advert!
MWLaLLEP: BOB does not condone the inhalation of foreign substances for the purposes of making silly voices. *deep breath* (High-pitched voice) Thank ya very much!
MM: Where did he go? And for that matter, where did Mark Shill go?
DB: Who cares?
MM: Good point.
MA: The following contest is the Obligatory BOB "Big-Ass Confusing Battle Bowl Brawl!" And it is an ACTION FIGURES BATTLE ROYAL! Introducing first, our Special Guest Ring Announcer... ME! Thank you. And now...
["Living Doll" by Cliff Richard and the Shadows plays as a female figure appears from the backstage area.]
MA: Our first participant... BARBIE!
MM: Heidi, any idea if Coma knows anything about "Copyright Infringement"?
NH: I somehow doubt it...
MM: Damn. You're sure? Matells going to sue the crap out of us...
NH: Well, I've never known him to send royalties to Pinky and the Brain.
Coma: Poink! Narf! Hee hee hee....
SW: We're getting crowded here... thank God for the Extend-O-Desk! Shove over, Coma.
Coma: You better believe it, Jack! That's NOT a moon... it's a pumpkin! Flibble.
MA: And secondly... HE-MAN!
[He-Man arrives to "Macho Man" by the Village People, and chants of "Put some pants on"! by the fans.]
He-Man: Duh. I can't wrestle you...
Barbie: Why not?
He-Man: 'Cause you a girl.
Barbie: No duh? Listen muscle-brain, being a girl hasn't stopped me being a teacher, a Gulf War Medic, a nuclear physicist, a champion showjumper or Vin Diesels stunt double in the "Fast and the Furious"...
He-Man: Duh. You was?
Barbie: You think Matell gave me the pink Ferrari to go shopping with? Anyway, if I can do all THAT... what's to stop me from KICKING YOUR ASS?!
Coma: Get the spatula, Deans' going to need a realignment!
NH: Now THAT's Gurl Power! She kicked him all right, but that's NOT his ass!
He-man: Huh? Why you kick me like dat?
SW: No effect! He IS a He-Man!
DB: Well, Barbies' been going out with Ken for years! She HAS to know you can't ballshot a guy who aint got no nuts!
RvW: Uh, yeah.
Coma: Front kick! Back kick! Flying weasleplex! She's going Buffy on him!
DB: What match is HE watching? This is the longest staredown in history!
MM: Nope, that record was set last year... Hogan vs Nash, Fort Flimsy, Texas...
[Cut to footage of a WWE House Show, shot on a shaky Handicam.]
Hogan: Do something, Kev.
Nash: Fuck that... since when are they paying me to carry YOUR ass? You do something. *feeble push*
Hogan: I can't, I think my hip's frozen up. When does the run-in happen?
Bryan Hebner: It won't, Scott Hall found the bar...
Nash & Hogan: D'OH!
[Cut back to the ring. A ten-second timer is counting down, but apart from that, nothing has changed. Let's cut to Ken and Insano... who are having coffee in the back.]
Ken: DN! We're on a break here! We're not on again until after the intermission!
IM: ¿Sí, narrador disembodied... qué usted desean de nosotros, sangre? ¿Qué sus esclavos PASADOS murieron?
[Wise ass. Okay, back to the ring.]
Coma: I like trees. Trees are nifty. Peep.
MM: And the first two minute period has expired! And here comes an authentic early-model Darth Vader to join the battle!
DB: He's even got the original cloth cape! That guy must be worth a fortune!
NH: Barbie FINALLY breaks the deadlock with a straight right! He-Man fires back as Darth leaps into the ring!
He-man: Ow! He's hitting me with a plastic thingee!
DV: That's my lightsaber, you idiot! *wheeze*
NH: Barbie takes the advantage and bulldogs both men! He-Man tries to get up... flipping neckbreaker! You GO, girl!
MM: Vader kips-up... FORCE GRAB! He's got Barbie in his grasp!
DV: Let me show you the true meaning of a "neckbreaker", Barbie... *wheeze*
NH: He-Man with a double axe-handle on the Dark Lord of the Sith! Electric Chair drop!
RvW: Uh. Yeah.
SW: You're dead weight here, van Winkle.
RvW: Dude, my script ran out after I was supposed to get hit by Bonaduce. I aint no good at ad-libbing, yo?
Coma: Clean the clocks, it's a quarter to lunchtime! Kapow! Biff! Splunge!
MM: Oh, my GOD! Someone just hit Rob van Winkle with a chair!
SW: Now that was nice, nice, baby!
NH: That was SO weak, Scotty.
SW: Ummm... Have sex with me?
NH: That was even weaker. You're off-form today.
SW: I know, Coma didn't write me any smutty dialouge...
Coma: Parp! (Honks Scottys' nose)
Heavily-accented Mysterious Chair-Wielding Stranger: Are you going to introduce me, or do I have to hit someone else with a chair?
[Cut to Styles, sitting in a medieval ducking stool.]
Styles: OH! *splash* MY! *splash* GOD! *splashbubblebubblebubble*
MM: It's former Iraqi Information Minister Mohammed Saeed al-Sahhaf!
MSaS: Excuse me? "Former"? I'm still employed by the Iraqi government, thank you very much!
NH: WHAT Iraqi government?
SW: Why the heck is this guy here?
MSaS: Color commentary. Your infidel BOSS hired me to remove the stench of bias and spin from your pitiful shows.
DB: Oh yeah, you're an expert at that, buddy.
MSaS: Silence, red-haired stepchild of the imperialists!
NH: Ooh, he's good!
MM: Meanwhile, back in the ring, at least two time periods have expired during that last conversation. Darth, Barbie and He-Man have been joined by Action Man and Cobra Commander! Barbie has homed in on Action Man and is beating the tar out of him! I haven't seen a woman be so violent since Candy Canteloupes on "Dollar Jello Shots Night" at Stinky McNastys!
Barbie: That's for not returning my calls back in the 70's, jerk!
NH: You see Scotty... scorn a woman at your peril! Cobra Commander and Darth Vader double-teaming He-Man... Big double suplex! Cobra Commander drops a knee to the midriff. Darths trying for an ankle lock...
SW: No! Do... or do not! There is no try!
DB: Nice one, Scotty!
[Scotty and Danny Bonaduce exchange high-fives.]
MSaS: Cease your filthy American pop culture references, infidels, or I will throw my shoes at you.
DB: You better be a size nine, otherwise I'll throw 'em right back at you. ZING!
[Scotty and Danny high-five again.]
Coma: STRIKE! It's a long fly watermelon to deep left field! Beanie the Shrimp is going back, back, back... HOWZAT!
MM: You're right Coma, He-Man IS out of there after that picture-perfect dropkick from Cobra Commander! Darth spins him around... Dark Side Effect! Great move!
NH: Action Man finally blocks one of Barbies shots... boot to the gut! He picks her up... F5!
[WHOA! What the hell happened! Everything’s gone black! Where am I? Oh, wait... there's the advertising hoardings back again... and here's the ring. Oh, good... there's the announcers. That was weird.]
NH: *ahem* Note to our web-cast audience. PLEASE don't push "F5" when we SAY "F5". This show's going to run long even without gratuitous Browser Refreshing!
MM: And there goes the... hooter? What happened to the buzzer?
[Cut to Stinkybutt Nastyass in the (Suddenly-empty) balcony.]
SN: Sorry, that was me.
[Cut to Donny Whalbergs house again.]
[Cut to Scotty Whatbodys moms' house.]
SM'sM: Oh yes, Detached Narrator! Oh, YES! You're the best!
[Damn I'm good. Cut back to the ring, just in time to see another participant enter.]
Coma: Do you feel that? It's the Quebec National Hosepipe Orchestra! Hollyhocks in the marmalade!
DB: Who the heck is that?
SW: Is that who I think it is? If it is, he ain’t no action figure!
NH: Even Coma couldn't have got THAT guy for the night?
MSaS: Blind American fools! Can't you tell that's Iraqs' biggest-selling action figure... the "G.I Saddam"!
MM: Don't you mean the "Strafe Me" Saddam? Or a "Hide me, The Yankees Are Coming" Saddam?
MSaS: I don't understand... why do you insist on mocking my glorious leader?
SW: Dude, you lost. Get over it!
MSaS: No, we didn't...
NH: Oh, come on!
MSaS: What? Our triumph is close at hand! In three days... no, make it two days... we shall sweep the invaders from the streets of Baghdad! So there.
MM: And there goes Barbie! A sneak attack from G.I Saddam! He picked the weakest competitor and got her when she was least expecting it! And now EVERYONE is dogpiling Saddam! This is brutal! He's got no chance!
[Flashing Caption: SOCIAL COMMENTARY, 90'S-STYLE]
DB: Don't get too close! He's got Moves of Mass Destruction!
NH: Saddam with a super-weak punch at Action Man!
MSaS: What a decisive strike! He's winning! He's winning!
[Flashing Caption: SOCIAL COMMENTARY, '03-STYLE.]
Coma: Vikings in the belfry! Wing-ding-a-ling-long, what WAS that smell?! Whoa, toothpaste! (Sings) Uhura, Uhura, the com-operator for me! Eep!
[Flashing Caption: IDIOTIC COMMENTARY, COMA-STYLE.]
NH: Cobra Commander has G.I Saddam... COBRA COMMANDER CLUTCH! Will Saddam tap out?
MSaS: Saddam will NEVER surrender!
*Sound of G.I Saddam slapping the mat repeatedly*
MSaS: Never, you hear me? NEVER!
[Danny Bonaduce begins tapping on Mohammeds' head with his knuckles.]
DB: Hello? McFly? Anybody in there?
SN: 'Scuse me. *POOT*
NH: And here comes the next entrant! And according to my script, it's the last man in the match. But since Coma wrote the script, I'll wait and see. It's... a Care Bear?
MM: Looks like it, Heidi! Yes, it's Rainbow Bear! He's... uh.. it's on the top rope! Big FAT FURRY FLYING SPLASH! Vader goes down in an evil, wheezing heap! Rainbow Bear laying some vile punches in now!
DB: I wish he'd get off him... It looks like he's being humped by a Care Bear!
NH: Oh, thanks muchly Bonaduce! We get enough wierdos at BOB as it is, now we'll attract the furries!
DB: You're welcome. Hey, Scotty, what does this "CS" mean in my script?
SW: "Chair Shot". I means someone's going to hit you just before the intermission.
DB: Oh... Really. Gotcha...
Coma: Muffin the Mule exploded! Forceps, calipers, sponge, HIKE!
[Coma Hail Marys' a baguette into the ring, causing the first bakery-related ref bump in pro-wrestling history.]
SW: Crumbs! Ha! I slay me!
Death: I'll help, if you like.
SW: I'll be good.
MM: Action Man is using his Karate Chop action on Cobra Commander! Cobra Commander is teetering... and he's GONE! Action Man is on fire! He slaps a complex submission hold on Rainbow Bear with his realistically-articulated arms! And he's... uh, it's tapping! But the ref is still over-selling the FLYING BAGUETTE OF DOOM!
NH: Like your work, Scott Keith!
MSaS: G.I Saddam will win this match! It's only a matter of time!
NH: G.I Saddam is already gone, Mohammed!
MSaS: He's simply regrouping, wanton Western woman, with your exposed belly-button and your evilly perky nipples.
Coma: And don't forget her marshmallow-like buttocks and her gimpy leg! Thoink!
NH: I am going to start handing out slaps all round, boys...
MM: Darth wakes the Generic Ref.... and he sees Rainbow Bear tapping to Action Mans' hold! Will that count as an elimination?
GR: Like I'M supposed to know the rules of this thing! Okay, I'll allow it!
NH: And the cuddly toy is gone! We're down to Action Man and Darth Vader!
DV: Action Man... *wheeze*... I am your father.
AM: Huh? You are? DAD!
[Action Man runs to Darth Vader in slow-motion. Darth sidesteps and pulls the top rope down.]
DV: Sucker. *wheeze*
MA: Here is your winner... DARTH VADER!
MM: Okay folks, we're going to have an intermission now...
DB: Really? (Leaping to his feet) HA! Sneak up on ME, will you?
Dick Clark: (Lowering his chair) Wow, you've got better hearing than I thought, Bonaduce.
DB: Back off, old man... I'll tear your face off if you try anything!
DC: (Oddly metallic voice) Why wait?
[Cut to Styles in the gift shop of the Sears Tower]
Styles: OH MY GOD! Dick Clark just ripped his face off! Wires, tubes, circuits... OH MY GOD again! Dick Clark is a robot!
[Cut to Danny Bonaduce]
DB: Well, that explains a lot...
[As a fierce brawl breaks out between Danny Bonaduce and the Robot Dick Clark, we fade to the intermission.]
© 2003 BOB Wrestling: Poink Narf Weeble Squeek.