The unfinished symphony that actually got finished! Yer yer. (Or: Take down that We'll Be Right Back sign, because, WE ARE...two Sundays later. The PPV folks are gonna hate us!)
Part 1 | Part 2
[Fade up from black to tartan.]
Voice-Over: Ladies and gentlemen... the musical styling of Seamus McGinty!
[A kilt-wearing man with a slowly-deflating sporran walks into shot, brandishing a set of electric bagpipes. Well, okay, he's shoved a vacuum cleaner hose into them, but it's the same thing, really.]
Seamus: (Sings) Oh, once upon a time there was a wrestler...
[Rapid sucession of cuts to:]
XXXtreme machine: wrestla
StreetMime 2K3: " "
=<>: FUCKING WRESTLER, WHO DESERVES TO BE KILLED AND RAPED! TWICE!
Seamus: (sings) Who hung around here for a month or two...
Flatline: Uhhh... two?
Captain Obvious: Two, which is a number, greater than one and less than three. It's also less than four, you know.
Seamus: (sings) But then he went and pissed off everybody...
SW: (Looking at a Candy Cantaloupes calendar) Duhhh... body.
GBH: Duh. Whut?
Loony Lenny: BODY!
Seamus: (sings) So we took his ass and beat it black and blueeee.....
[Cut to the arena in Kitchener]
Entire Crowd: (Sings) WE BEAT UP NEIGE, MY FRIEND! WE WISHED IT WOULDN'T END! WE''D KICK HIS ASS, FOREVER AND A DAY!
[Cut backstage to the BigBOSS and Mrs. Behave. The song can still be heard being sung in the background.]
MB: Are you STILL holding a grudge against that guy? Isn't two years long enough to forgive and forget?
BigB: Let me think about it. (Micropause) Nope, still pissed off at him.
[Cut to a street corner in Naples, Italy.]
Jim Morrison of the Doors: WAFFLES! Get 'em while they're hot! And waffley.
Vaugely Italian Man: Scusi... Aren't you-a Jim-a Morrison of-a the Doors-a?
Jim Morrison of the Doors: Uhhh... no. I'm... Benito Mussolini.
Vaugely Itialian Man: (Disappointed.) Oh. Sorry.
[Cut to the Running of the Hamsters in El Loony, Spain.]
ESPN Announcer: A runner has fallen! Oh, dear Lord! He's been nuzzled within an inch of his life!
Hamsters: Squeek! Squeek!
Runner: Stop! Quit it! That tickles!
[Cut to a muddy field, with one concrete mixer sitting in the center of it.]
[Okay, it's not much at the moment, but the Athens Olympic Commitee is SURE they'll turn it into an 80, 000-seat stadium by next year. Cut to the Monocled Announcer, in crystal-clear black-and-white.]
MA: (Twirls his handlebar moustache)
[Silent Movie-style Inter-title: "Ahh-ha! This next match shall be scheduled for one fall, my pretty."]
[Silent Movie-style Inter-title: "Making his way to the ring at this time... From Parts Unknown..."]
[Quick cut to a map of the United States. A vertigo-inducing zoom later, we're looking at the tiny town of Parts Unknown. Those with a REALLY good slo-mo on their VCR's might detect that it's Parts Unknown, Pennsylvania, halfway between Intercourse and Stunned Mullet.]
[Silent Movie-style Inter-title: "Weighing in at 217 and one-quarter pounds... SETH HARKER! Nya-ha-haa!"]
[Cut to Spacecop, tied to a railway track.]
[Silent Movie-style Inter-title: "HEY! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE AND UNTIE ME, MOTHERFUCKER! DO I LOOK LIKE I'M JOKING?]
[Cut to early-1900's Stock Footage of a train rushing toward the camera.]
[Silent Movie-style Inter-title: "Whoo-whooooooo!"]
[Silent Movie-style Inter-title: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT NOISE?]
[Cut back to the arena, where everyone is looking expectantly up the aisle.]
Seths' Voice: I'm not coming out until I get a PROPER entrance! I'm a SERIOUS wrestler, dammit!
[Fine, I'll give the crybaby his entrance. Eddie B spins up Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' "Red Right Hand". The lights dim and the BOB-tron plays a montage of Seths' Greatest Spots. Sadly, the BOB-tron is currently leaning against a fire hydrant outside the arena, so no-one gets to see it. Seth walks slowly down the aisle, offering the fans his patented "Heel Sneer".]
Seth: Now THAT's more like it.
[Yep, except you forgot to put on your pants, smart guy. Nice undies.]
Seth: I did not! (Looks down) Hmmm... I am SO going to kick your ass when you get out of those square brackets.
[Who needs to? Look, I'm already behind you in the ring! And I've managed to hit you simultaneously with a steel chair and an over-ripe rutabaga!]
MH: DID YOU SEE THAT? Hi folks, I'm former "Blood, Sweat and Chairs Wrestling" play-by-play man Matt Heath!
BW: And I'm horribly biased BSCW color-commentator Bil Withonel! Harker sucks.
MH: And what a bizarre sight this is! The former BSCW Cruiserweight champion was just blindsided by a man who's not even really in the ring yet!
[Wanna bet on that? Look, I'm in the ring long enough to hit a suplex...]
[And now I'm safely back in my square brackets! I love being semi-disembodied!]
The Commentator: (running into shot) FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE STOP THIS!
BW: Dude, it's only been going for like, fifteen seconds!
The Commentator: Your point being?
[HEY! Don't steal MY time in the spotlight with your unwanted run-in! Better look above you, Commentator...]
The Commentator: Huh?
Voice From the Rafters: FLAMING DEATH!
[Cut to Styles, standing on the Worlds Smallest Bungee Platform.]
Styles: OH MY GOD! (Leaps off)
The Commentator: It's Mr. Intensity! He's in the rafters and he's dripping wet! *sniff sniff* Good GAWD! Gasoline! He's covered in gasoline! And he's holding a lighter...
The Commentator: OH MY GOD! He's on FIRE! And he's jumped off the rafter, heading straight for me! AHHHHHHHHHH! Now I'm on fire! For the Love of GAWD, somebody put me out! Or cover me in barbecue sauce, I'm done! AHHHHHHH!
[Sudden cut to a construction worker in Times Square.]
Construction Worker: What ukulele?
[Cut back to the arena. The Commentator and Mr. Intensity are gone, Seth is still over-selling that textbook suplex I gave him, and all's right with the world.]
BW: What the FUCK is going on around here?
MH: I'd love to tell you, but I have no idea either, Bil. Let's just call the match.
BW: What match? Seth's the only guy in the ring!
[Not for long! I appear in the ring just long enough to hit an overhead suplex. Back to my brackets!]
[And then I return to the ring and hit another, only better! And a third! Back to my brackets!]
MH: Man, who taught this guy to wrestle, Scott Steiner?
BW: I don't care, I like him! And not just because I'm a heel commentator, either!
BW: It's "Bil"... With one "l".
[Whatever. Here I go into the ring again, delivering a spinning inverse overhead su...
MH: WHOA! The Disembodied Narrator got caught in mid-description by a desperation superkick! Harker is SO quick!
DN: Uuuh... bastard! I quickly get back to my brack...
MH: SPEAR! Explosive move from Seth!
BW: Boo! Boo! You suck, Harker!
DN: *wheeze* Back to my br...
MH: SHINING WIZARD!
BW: Harkers in no-sell mode!
MH: He runs to the corner.. leaps! Bounces off one rope, over to the other rope... DOUBLE SPRINGBOARD TWISTING SOMERSAULT KNEEDROP!
Crowd: B-S-C-DUB! B-S-C-DUB! B-S-C-DUB!
B-S-C-DUB! B-S-C-DUB! B-S-C-DUB!
B-S-C-DUB! B-S-C-DUB! B-S-C-DUB!
B-S-C-DUB! B-S-C-DUB! B-S-C-DUB!
BW: The scrawny little Goth is getting extreme, Matt!
Seth: "Goth"? Bil! I was in BSCW for a year... You mean to say you STILL can't figure out I've been ripping off "The Matrix" my entire career?
MH: Oh, is THAT what it was?
MH: Seths' going up again.... could be the Nightbringer corkscrew moonsault!
[...Right through three panes of glass and into the brick wall I just built in the ring!]
MH and BW: Oooh!
Crowd: HOL-Y SHIT! HOL-Y SHIT! HOL-Y SHIT!
HOL-Y SHIT! HOL-Y SHIT! HOL-Y SHIT!
HOL-Y SHIT! HOL-Y SHIT! HOL-Y SHIT!
HOL-Y SHIT! HOL-Y SHIT! HOL-Y SHIT!
MH: Just like old times, huh, Bil?
BW: Oh, yeah.
[Right, no more Mr. Nice Heel. I zap into the ring and...]
Seth: I zap to the Narrators square barackets!
DN: Where did he go?
DN: Oh, crap.
[So, how does this work? I just say something and it happens, right? Like, if I say "The Detached Narrator runs headfirst into the ringpost for no apparent reason"...]
MH: Ooh! Looks like the Detached Narrator is about to get a taste of his own medicine, Bil!
BW: Well, payback's generally regarded as a bitch, Matt!
[Speaking of which, let's cut to Spacecop, still tied to the railway tracks. Right after the Narrator steps in that conveniently-placed bear-trap.]
DN: AHHHHHHHGGGGHHHHHHHH! There's a bear-trap on my foot! That really hurts, man!
[Silent Movie-style Inter-title: HARKER! GET ME OFF THIS THING OR I'LL KILL YOU AND RAPE YOUR CORPSE SO HARD IT EXPLODES!
[Oh, really? Let's just zoom up on the Stock Footage train rushing toward you, shall we? Oh, look! That's the fabled Anal Rape Express! Happy Trails, Spacecop!]
[Silent Movie-style Inter-title: OH, YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME....]
[Sorry... but Coma insisted. Besides, Steve and Trey are going to love this.]
[Silent Movie-style Inter-title: Whooooo-whoooo-whoooooo-SQUIDGESPLATTER*RAPE*!]
BW: Oh. My. God. That was the most repulsive thing I've seen since... since...
MH: Since Spikyjim bladed with a fork at the last BSCW Pay-Per-View?
BW: Yeah, pretty much. Only this was worse.
[Okay, let's get this party started. First off all, let's have a run-in by Chief Justice.]
CJ: ok my ittle mushroom get redy for an az kicking!
DN: Who the hell are YOU? XXXtreme Machines' long-lost brother?
[Just a guy I was humiliatingly jobbed to in OCW.]
MH: How humiliating was it?
[I lost to a backslide.]
CAPTION: Five Minutes Later
MH: Oh, my sides... *snort*
CAPTION: Five MORE Minutes Later.
[Okay, have I amused everyone sufficiently? People in the balcony? Had enough chuckles yet? Good. Okay, so Detached Narrator gets his foot out of the bear trap as Chief Justice charges him...]
CJ: Prepear to feel my justece!
DN: Not if you PAID me...
[And the Detached Narrator beats the crap out of him.]
MH: Good NIGHT! It's a double-cross! I think! Harker is getting his revenge all right, but it's not on the Detached Narrator! Chief Justice is taking a pounding! The Square Bracket Suplex! DETACHINATOR! Chief Justice is out!
BW: I am SO fucking lost, Matt! At least in BSCW, someone would have jumped off the 'Tron by now.
[Cut to the carpark. Albert DeSalvo is standing on the 14-inch BOB-Tron. He jumps off.]
AD: Happy now?
BW: Not particularly.
[Right... time for the REAL run-in! Spaceduck... you're up!]
DN: Huh? Ha! Missed ALL my major organs...
=<>: WELL, HERE'S ONE I WON'T MISS!
DN: *girly scream*
=<>: WHY? HEY, HOW DID G.I SLOW MANAGED TO HAUL HIS FAT FUCKING ASS INTO THE RAFTERS LIKE THAT?
G.I Slow: FLABBY FLAMING DEATH!
[Sorry dude... once again, Coma insisted.]
=<>: MAN, SOME PEOPLE CAN'T TAKE A LITTLE ANAL RAPAGE BETWEEN FRIENDS... (Descending whistle) AWW, SHI...
[Cut to an English schoolmarm.]
ESM: Well, SOMEONE must have seen my ukulele!
[Cut back to the ring, where the Detached Narrator is lying in the center of the ring. Hmmm, perfect positioning. I'll just zap down to the top turnbuckle...]
MH: Here it comes.... NIGHTBRINGER! NIGHTBRINGER! NIGHTBRINGER! Harker hits his finisher! He covers... one! Two! THREE!
MA: Here is your winner, in a desperate act of self-character-glorification despite months of roleplaying inactivity.... SETH HARKER!
SW: All right, get out of my seat Withonel...
MM: Hi BOB Fans, we're back! Was that a spectacular match we just witnessed, or what?
MS: It was the GREATEST OPENING MATCH AFTER A LENGTHY INTERMISSION in BOB HISTORY!
DB: Man, your other opening matches must have sucked donkey dick, huh?
NH: Danny Bonaduce? You're still here? What happened to the Robot Dick Clark?
DB: Why don't you ask him, Heidi?
RDC: *Bzzt* *click* Rebootrebootreboot... *plink*
SW: Whoa! Danny Bonaduce just offered Heidi head on air! Or A head, at least!
MM: He killed it? Crap, I owe you five bucks, Scotty...
[Cut to Insano Mano and Kamikazie Ken in a deserted arena.]
Voice-Over: Match Five: FLAMING DEATH!
[Ken and Insano look up simultaneously.]
IM: ¿Nos pienso llamaré éste un drenaje, ?
KK: Yep... RUN!
[Cut to the SportZdesk at EEESPN]
Freek-Boy: Welcome back to the Extreme Exciting Electronic Sportz Netwrok! The network that's SO EXTREME, we even purposefully mis-spell "Network"! That's hardcore! And it looks like the Insano Mano/Kamikazie Ken EXTREME DEATHMATCH EXTREME ELIMINATION SERIES is tied at an EXTREME one fall apiece! What's going to happen next? I don't know! They don't know! At this point in time, I don't think even the scriptwriter knows! It's gonna be EXTREME!
Voice from above: You want EXTREME! I got your Extreme RIGHT HERE! FLAMING DEATH!
Freek-Boy: (Looks up) Whoa... that's trippy.
[Cut to a fish gutter in Drawling Beach, Maine.]
Fish Gutter: Hey, whose ukulele is this?
[Cut to Seth Harkers dressing room. Seth is trying to extinguish the small fire that mysteriously broke out in his overnight bag.]
Seth: Sore loser...
[Bite me. Cut to the Masked Announcer.]
MA: The following contest is the "Elimination Sofa" Playstation Rumble! It is scheduled for five eliminations, or until we get bored and cut to something different. And the participants are...
[Cut to the apartment of the Kent State Krew. Crammed onto one relatively small sofa are Massive Man Rendition First, Jean Bannister, Sir Hungalot, The Violent Pacifist, Jim and J.C Long. Hardcore JJ is sitting on the floor next to a battered Playstation 2. MMR1 is wearing a huge bandage on his big toe.]
MA: ...Those guys!
MS: SIX MEN! ONE SOFA! ONE PLAYSTATION! We're taking the boring, housebound lifestyle of Generation X to a NEW LEVEL! It'll be the GREATEST VIDEO GAME IN BOBS HISTORY!
MSS: Video games are nothing but a tool of the imperialist American government, perverting the weak-minded youth of the decadent West!
DB: Hey, shut up before I go completely Guile on your ass!
NH: Okay, does anyone know the rules of this match? Assuming there ARE rules... Coma booked it, after all.
MM: Well Heidi, according to the Official Coma-Booked Pay-Per-View Rulebook, scribbled on this napkin from SUPERWACKYFUNLAND's fabulous "Dead Rockstar Cafe", Hardcore JJ gets to pick random games for the participants. The loser of each round is eliminated until only two remain.
SW: Then what happens?
MM: I'm not sure. It says "See Next Napkin".
VP: Okay, JJ... Load up the first game! Something insanely violent, yet appealing to my softer, gentler side!
Hardcore JJ: What? What? You want violent, you sorry sumbitch?!
MS: And JJ has loaded up... "Barbie: Soldier of Fortune"! It's the GREATEST GAME never released for fear of warping the minds of impressionable 12-year-old girls the world over!
MM: And there's a mad scramble for the two available hand-controllers! Looks like the BigBOSS was too cheap to spring for a multi-tap...
NH: We'll pause to allow our viewers to recover from that shocking announcement. I'm surprised we could afford a PS2.
SW: We couldn't... that's MY console! They better not scratch it. More than it already is, anyway.
MM: The Violent Pacifist has one! And so does... Sir Hungalot! VP has chosen Barbie to play, while Sir Hungalot has Ken. VP selects the Shopping Mall Deathmatch Level... and HERE WE GO!
[M-16 sound effects]
MM: VP quickly gets the Big Sir in his sights... Hungalot sends Ken scurrying through a Starbucks to escape. OH! VP took out the counter worker! Fortunately for him, shooting up a Starbucks outlet has no effect on the game, as the company can instantly replace them!
DB: Oops, he shot a mall-rat! That HAS to cost him points!
NH: No, it's okay, she was protected by the power of her dads' Platinum Visa card.
MSS: I LIKE this game!
VP: Stand still and let me frag you, H!
SH: My controllers not working! Jims' pushing me! Which button do you push to shoot again?
[Digitized Shotgun FX]
MMRF: Dude, you just shot a hotdog vendor!
JCL: Got him right in the buns! *giggle*
MM: This looks like a mis-match. Sir Hungalot is obviously not too familiar with video games.
NH: I don't know about that, I've seen his "Solid Snake".
DB and SW: WHOA!
MM: VP chases Sir Hungalot into a clothing store... There's nowhere left to hide! Wait, Sir Hungalot, in an "Agency Wins the 3-4-1 Tag Title Belts"-sized fluke manages to activate his secret power-up... Ken morphs into.... Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen!
SW: The horror!
MS: And that's not the half of it! It's the Olsen Twins, wearing skimpy bikinis and carrying cattle prods!
[Several minutes later]
DB: What the hell happened?
[Cut to Dwayne, BOB's Technical Support Guy.]
Dwayne: It appears the BOB server was overloaded due to a massive amount of hits from Google searches. BOB Technical Support is now trying to rectify this problem. Just let me run a quick test, guys.
[He taps a few keys.]
Dwyane: Olsen Twins Naked.
[Two minutes later]
Dwayne: Okay, I think I worked out the problem.
[Cut to Seth Harker, Trey Vincent, Crow and Tom in the SoL's theatre.]
All: YOU'RE FIRED!
[Cut back to the match.]
MM: Welcome back. It looks like it's all over bar the shouting for Sir Hungalot! VP found the "Matell-a-nator" brand Sniper rifle and has a bead on Mary-Kate!
VP: Prepare to die! (pause) Aww, she's so cute. I can't shoot her.
Digitized Mary-Kate Olsen: Eat hot lead, bitch!
[Rattle of gunfire]
SH: Oops. Sorry, VP!
MS: SENSATIONAL! Sir Hungalot has taken out VP! It's the GREATEST UPSET IN WRESTLING HISTORY! Barbies brains have been splashed all over the Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirts!
DB: Now THERE's something I never thought I'd hear on TV!
VP: Damn my pacifistic tendencies! (Punches Sir Hungalot in the face.)
JJ: Next game! What? I said, my Blues Clues watch is telling me it's time for the next game!
[NHL 2K3 Theme music.]
NH: Jean Bannister eagerly grabs the controller and will face off...
NH: Against Sir Hungalot! Jean has GOT to be a strong favorite in this one!
MM: Especially since JJ randomized the team selection... Jean has the mighty Colorado Avalanche!
NH: And Sir Hungalot gets... the Boston Bruins!
DB and SW: He's toast.
[Five seconds later]
Digitized Announcer: Boston goal scored by #40, Ted Donato. The goal was unassisted.
SW: Th' hell?
[Fifteen seconds later.]
Digitised Announcer: Boston goal scored by #12, Brian Rolston, assisted by #27, Glen Murray, and #25, Hall Gill.
[Okay, I'm bored shitless already. Let's cut away to something more interesting.]
William Shatner: (sings) Raindrops keep fallin' on my. (Pause)
[Well, maybe the match wasn't THAT bad?]
Announcer: Match Six! Hell in a Multiplex!
[Look! There's Nemo! Isn't he cute, swimming around in that fish-tank? Now let's zoom out, revealing the fish-tank is in a sushi bar. Heh. I love being a heel. Let's zoom back from that to see Ken and Insano duking it out in the aisle of a movie theater.]
IM: ¿Usted está hablando con mí? ¿Usted está hablando con mí? ¡Vaya a continuación, haga mi día! ¡Usted es la enfermedad y soy la curación! ¡Punk!
KK: There can be only one!
IM: (Whispering) ¡No me haga enojado! ¡Usted no me quisiera cuando estoy enojado! ¡Estaré detrás!
Movie-Goer: Hey, down in front!
KK: (Crouching and whispering) Yippie-kai-ay, motherfu...
Usher: Sir, I'm sorry but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave the theatre.
KK: What? Hey, get your hands off me! You can't do this to us! I know people! Good people!
Usher: Really? Who ya gonna call?
IM: ¡Le dije que hiciéramos esto en el satélite del amor, Ken!
[As Ken and Insano are hustled out of the theatre, we cut back to the living room.]
Digitized Announcer: Boston goal to...
JB: Is this controller even plugged in?
Jim: Dude, you so suck at this!
JB: Hey, shut up!
MMR1: Isn't there some sort of mercy rule in force?
Jim: Yep, you automatically lose if you're ten goals behind.
Digitised Announcer: Boston goal scored by #29, Felix Potvin, assisted by gross incompetence on the part of Player One.
MS: AND THERE IT IS! Jean Bannister has been defeated by Sir Hungalot by ten goals to nothing! And it's still the first period! This is the GREATEST UPSET IN WRESTLING HISTORY!
DB: Didn't you just say that? And would you move over, please?
MSS: Move? Never! Like all Iraqis, I shall never retreat from the desk-space that is mine by right!
JCL: Give me that, Jean! I'll show you I know how to push ALL the right buttons! *giggle*
MMR1: Someone's at the door, Jim. Go see who it is...
Jim: What did you last slave die of? (Limps off to the door.)
MM: JJ loads up the next game... oh, dear Lord! Britney's Dance Beat? Scotty, how could you buy THAT piece of shit?
SW: (Sweating profusely) Uhh.. that's not mine. Never seen it before. What are you accusing me of? I don't have to sit here and take this! It's like the Spanish Inquisition here! Stop looking at me like that! Shut up!
Jim: (At the door) Who is it?
Voice: Run-in. Just like to come in and hit someone with a chair!
Jim: Oh. Okay... (Opens the door)
PT: Wazzup, biatch?
MM: It's Pete Trable! And he's attacking J.C Long! Oh, and he took out Josh with his backswing! It's chaos in there! Jim grabs a weapon to help defend himself!
The KSK's Cat, Tigress: Mrooowrl! Wrowwwwrl!
SW: Wow, and I didn't think there would be ROOM to swing a cat in that apartment!
DB: Look, Trable's being pussy-whipped!
*Joint geeky laughs*
*Scotty and Danny Bonaduce high-five*
NH: Oh, brother.
MM: It is MAYHEM in there! Kamkorder Kid goes down in a heap! We've lost the feed!
MA: This match has been declared a NO-CONTEST!
[Cut to the BigBOSS and Mrs. Behave in a corridor]
Mrs. Behave: STUART! You had ONE match to book tonight, and you couldn't even do THAT right?
BigB: I know, I know! My brain doesn't work anymore! I'm washed up! I couldn't book my way out of a paper bag! I should pack it in and go work for the WWE!
[The BigBOSS peers into a locker room]
BigB: Who brought YOU a drum-kit?
Coma: What's the frequency, Maurice? That's the rock right there! Boo-yaka!
Crow: And now for something completely purple!
[Cut to Kevin the Pyromaniac, standing atop a three-bedroom house.]
KtP: FLAMING DEATH!
Voice From Below: We've done that bit! Just jump through this table!
[Rapid pan to the ground, where a wafer-thin table has been set up... over a pit full of green, smoking liquid. Descending whistle. Due to censorship issues, we cut to audio only for a few seconds.]
CRACK! SPLOSH! SIZZLE!
KtP: AHHHHHHGH! My epidermis!
[Cut back to the announce team.]
MSS: Ha ha ha! His skin burnt off! It was HILARIOUS!
DB: Hey, shut up!
MSS: Make me, Yankee slime-pig!
DB: Okay, I WILL! Scotty, how do you challenge someone to a match around here?
SW: Let's see... hitting them in the face is a good start.
MSS: Ow! You HIT me! You evil capitalist son-of-a-goat! You hit me right in the nose! I will kill you until you are dead!
[Cut to Styles, riding a yak.]
Styles: OH MY GOD! Danny Bonaduce! Mohammed Saeed al-Sahhaf! The match of the century, provided it's been a pretty lame century! Right after this dream sequence!
Restless Part 3
"I'm awake," Xamfir said, sitting straight up.
"You want a title for that?" Sarah asked.
Xamfir stared at the pay-per-view again. He saw Nurse Heidi doing a strip tease in a big bowl of ice cream.
"This pay-per-view is pretty entertaining," Styles said. "Though I should be doing the commentating."
After several seconds of watching Nurse Heidi:
"I, eruh, need to go to the bathroom," Xamfir said, getting up in the bent over position.
"Need any help with that?" Sarah asked, not bothering to turn her head in his direction.
"I do, actually." He stared at Sarah for several seconds. "Right."
Upstairs, he was headed for the bathroom. He had his hand on the door.
"Hey you." It was Michelle.
"Hey, you," Xamfir replied.
Xamfir looked down. "The usual. You?"
"Nothing. Just me. All alone. With my bed there."
"I never knew."
"You never paid much attention to anything except your sex slave."
"I've got a system. And a party to be at. Wanna come and hear it? And party?"
"Sure. I love to party with you, Xamfir."
And there was the party. Xamfir sat on the couch, with Michelle sitting on his lap and lightly running her fingers down his face. Kay Fabe danced before him in a sexy Catholic school uniform, while Sarah danced in a cheerleader uniform. Dozens of lesbians and hot women danced and fought with pillows on the dance floor in his basement. There were cat fights going in every corner of the room. But Xamfir's attention got taken away by a rattling of a door handle.
"Did you hear that?" Xamfir asked, shoving Michelle aside.
The party was over. Xamfir was suddenly all alone. "Michelle? Sarah? Uri? Any Gellar?"
No response. Just the door.
"Isn't that my closet?"
Xamfir ran out the backdoor.
"There you are."
Sarah sat on a giant Monopoly board. Two giant fingers grabbed her by the head, picked her up and slammed her three spaces down. Boardwalk.
"I think there's...something's trying to attack me. It was in my closet."
"Do you have skeletons in your closet?"
"Maybe. Not literal skeletons. But..."
A different hand slammed Little Good down behind Sarah. Park Place. Xamfir looked up and saw nothing but the Heavens.
"Bloody hell. Why is this wanker back in the game. Didn't he go bankrupt?"
"He's always been bankrupt," Sarah told him. "He just hides it."
A third hand slammed Styles down on Go. Somebody just made a lot of money. $400.
"OH MY GOD! I'm Rich!
"Hi Rich, I'm Sarah," Sarah said.
"I mean, I'm rich."
"Styles? What should I do?" Xamfir asked, his voice full of desperation.
"Do not pass go. And do not collect $200.
Back at the party. Everyone was dead. There was blood everywhere. Only one other man stood in the room with Xamfir. Soem Guy In A Hockey Mask.
"Hey, who invited the guy with the giant machete? Yaaaarrrgh!"
Xamfir ran up the stairs. He looked around. Saw a window. Climbed out onto the roof. Soem Voorhies crashed through the wall and came at him. "Somebody help!"
Xamfir suddenly was on a plane. Jeannie!
"Hi. I saved you back there, didn't I. Good thing I have all the power, huh?"
Yes, it is! Xamfir thought.
"Yes. It is!"
"Do you really love me? I mean, if say, I lost my powers, then had both my breasts chopped off and my legs sewn together?"
"Doesn't matter. It's time."
Xamfir's fall was stopped by a man in a foreign army uniform. Xamfir helped the mustachioed man to his feet and then did a double take.
"Hey, aren't you Saddam Hussein?"
"Uh. No," Saddam said.
"Dude, I think you are Saddam Hussein. Smart bombs my ass. Score one for the dumb bomb!"
"Dude, so not Saddam" Saddam said, putting a hand over the bottom half of his face. He grabbed a zipper, just like out of those Pepsi Twist commercials and became...
"I'll do any crap they throw at me these days! Hehhhh hehhhh hehhhhh."
Grabbed his face again. Unzipped.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Josh Wheaton. Executive Producer of Sarah 'The Jobber Slayer.' And I think it's time for some contract negotiations!"
Soem Guy In A Hockey Mask With A Machete!!!!
SLASH THUNK THWAP SLASH RIP THIIIICK
Back in the living room, Xamfir began to convulse on the floor!
The camera panned left and zoomed in on...the mouse!!
Inside the mouse's hole, this nameless mouse was slowly chewing on some wood. Chew chew chew. Spit spit spit. He doesn't swallow. Much like his female mouse friend with the funny parts. Then, a hand reached in and pulled him out. Tossed him in the air.
Back in the living room, the mouse sat up and walked off the set.
"HEY!" a director's voice was heard off-camera. "That's not in the script!"
A "Technical difficulties" sign appeared on screen. This one had a picture of an airplane stuck in the ground with big orange flames shooting up. There was a cartoon bubble for the pilot, who said "Oops!"
[Cut to a rocky wilderness.]
Pretentious Voice-Over: ONE THOUSAND MILLION YEARS, BC!
[The camera pans across to a cave in a cliff-face. A small campfire burns outside.]
Pretentious Voice-Over: THE DAWN OF MAN!
[A fur-clad caveman wanders out of his cave. He yawns expansively, scratches himself and peers at the sun, blinking.]
Caveman: Ug. It too early.
[He turns and walks back into his cave. We cut back to Kitchener.]
Pretentious Voice-Over: TWO THOUSAND AND THREE, AD!
MA: Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from the remains of the Iraqi Ministry of Information Building, in Downtown Baghdad...
[Cut to a U.S Marine.]
Marine: ...Although parts of it were reported to have landed as far away as Uptown Baghdad.
[Cut back to the Masked Announcer.]
MA: Weighing in at an Undisclosed, Though Frighteningly Huge Weight and with a Self-Confessed Undefeated Record... MOHAMMED SAEED al-SAHHAAAAAAAAFFFF!
[Eddie is ready and waiting, spinning up his "Best of Overly-Patriotic Pops" CD as Mohommad strolls out from behind the curtain. Massive Boos and catcalls fill the arena, mixed with strains of "God Bless America" and "U-S-A! U-S-A!" chants. However, Eddie appears to have forgotten we're in Canada, thus becoming the first sound-guy to put himself over as a heel. He quickly switches to Country Joe McDonalds' "Feel-Like-I'm-Fixing-To-Die Rag" instead.]
MA: And his opponent... Hailing from TV Land, USA... DANNY BONADUCE!
[Huge pop as Eddie B cues... well, take a guess.]
Crowd: C'MON EV'RYBODY, GET HAPPY!!
[Yeah, that one. Danny shadow-boxes his way down the aisle, slapping hands en route. What a suck-up.]
SW: Yeah! You da man, Danny! Beat him like a drum, dude!
NH: This is going to be and interesting match. I mean, we all know that al-Saheef has the best poker-face in the world... But now he's going to have to show us what he's REALLY got!
MM: And Danny Bonaduces' ring experience is limited to beating the crap out of a Brady on "Celebrity Boxing"...
MM: And here we GO! Collar-and-elbow tie-up! Almost.
NH: Oh, my God, they blew the spot? "Not" Keith is going to KILL us when he re-caps this show.
MM: A second attempt... and they MADE IT! They jockey for position... and Bonaduce gets a headlock applied! Possibly by sheer chance, but it's a headlock none the less!
MaSS: Ask him ref, ask him!
GR: Ask him what? You're the one in the headlock!
MaSS: (Pause) No, I'm not. May we wrestle a thousand years, this man will never put me in a headGLURK!
GR: (Urgent whisper) Ease off, Bonaduce, you've got that headlock on a shade tight.
DB: Oops, sorry! Hey, should I still be wearing my cordless microphone?
GR: Ummm.. I think so.
MM: Al-Saheef backs Bonaduce to the ropes... fires him across the ring... drop-down...
MSaS: OW! I was the one who was supposed to lay down, you stupid Yankee pig! Get off me!
NH: They make it back to their feet again... lock-up.. almost.. there it is! Bonaduce gets the upper hand... MONKEY TOSS!
[Cut to a troop of gibbons in the upper balcony.]
Gibbons: (Enthusiastically) Ook ook ook ook ook!
SW: We're attracting a very strange audience these days.
NH: Scotty, don't provoke the paying fans...
SW: But they only pay peanuts!
SW: What? I liked that joke! Coma wrote it, not me!
Mysterious Voice on PA System: Attention! Attention! The Cursory Technical Wrestling Section of the match is now complete. Gentlemen, start your signature moves!
NH: They HAVE signature moves?
MS: OOH! The BAGHDAD BOMB! WHATTAMANUEVER!
MM: Where did you come from, Shill?
MS: Staunton, Virginia originally. But I grew up in Craigsville, then moved to... PARTRIDGE-PLEX! Bonaduce scored with that one!
NH: Are you just making those names up, Mark?
MS: SCUD MISSILE DROPKICK! SA-LAM HUSSEIN! Al-Saheef is ON FIRE! Bonaduce reaching for something... FENDER BENDER!
MM: He hit him with a guitar! Jarretts' going to sue us!
MS: OH! The SERIES CANCELLATION! And he follows up with the INSIPID JESTONS RIP-OFF CARTOON SPIN-OFF-SAULT! Bonaduce is on a roll... He picks up the Iraqi... and nails him with the POINT ME IN THE DIRECTION OF THE TURNBUCKLE!
NH: You are SO just making this up...
SW: C'mon, Danny! Hit him with the "I CAN FEEL YOUR HEARTBEAT" punch!
MS: Al-Saheef goes to the eyes... and there's the JIHADANATOR! One, two... Bonaduce kicks out! He's going for the SAUDI STUNNER... NO! Bonaduce avoids it... And reverses into the DOESN'T SOMEBODY WANT TO BE WASTED!
MM: Oh, this is bullshit!
NH: Tell me about it! Besides, none of our fans are going to get these references!
MS: Bonaduce is setting up for something big here...
SW: Can I call it?
MS: Only if you do it three times...
SW: Here it comes... the DAVID CASSIDY CAN SUCK MY DICK! THE...
MS: (quickly) Okayonceisfine!
MM: One, two, three! It's over! Thank God.
MA: Here is your winner of this mess... DANNY BONADUCE!
SW: All right! You the man, Danny!
NH: It's nearly Main Event time, folks... stick with us! But first, a word from this Dream Sequence!
Restless Part 4
Styles and Sarah walked through an amusement park. They passed by a game with a jobber there.
"There. Play that game."
"I don't want to," Sarah said, stomping her foot.
"Sarah, you have a duty."
"Hehehe, you said dooty!"
"Oh grow up and stop acting silly. Now grab that banana and hit the Disgruntled Crossing Guard jobber fellow with it in the knee."
Sarah grabbed a banana and tossed it at the jobber, who bellowed, "I am a jobber." Dancedancedance. "I am a jobber," dancedancedance.
Her first throw missed.
"Sarah, you have a non-paying obligation. And don't throw like a girl."
She pouted, but grabbed a second banana. Throw. Hit. Jobber went down. Sarah jumped up and down as Styles stood there. "Oh my GOD! That was EXTREME!"
"It's Little Good! Sexy bad boys are cool!"
Sarah ran toward him.
"No! Sarah! Noooooooooo!"
That's when Dommy Krueger and Soem Voorhies charged. Sarah saw the trouble on her left and right. Baseball slide. Jumped up.
"Hoodanconrana on Little Good!" Pause. "Sarah, stop that! That's not how you do a hoodanconrana! Sarah!"
"Hey, Voorhies. What's the meaning of this?" Dommy asked, pulling a machete out of his stomach.
"Sorry, Dommy, a little busy here trying to reattach my leg." Soem Guy In A Hockey Mask was indeed hopping around. Turns out, Dommy packs a chainsaw.
"I bet that hurts," Dommy said.
"Not at all. My paychecks, now THOSE hurt me," Voorhies said, yanking back his machete.
Dommy stuck up his middle finger at Voorhies.
"Hey! My finger!"
"Do you two mind? I'm trying to go help Sarah."
Dommy and Soem looked at him.
"Carry on then."
Soem Guy slashed off Dommy's toes. He hopped around for a bit. "When are you going to make it hurt?"
Chainsaw met Soem's other leg.
"Look at you halfy! Hahaha!"
"I've had worse sun burns! You're offense is PATHETIC!" Voorhies responded.
Then Krueger sliced off both of Soem Guy's arms.
Sounded a little like that.
"I know you can't tell, but I'm sticking up my middle finger at you, Dommy!"
"You don't have an arm!"
"But I have feet!" He grabbed the machete with the inside of his ankles.
"HOLY FUCK, LOOK AT THESE TWO!" Spaceduck said.
"THESE TWO DUMB FUCKS HAVE SLICED OFF ALL THEIR ARMS AND LEGS! JUST TORSOS." Spacecop noted.
"OK, I should so NOT be dreaming about this. I'm leaving," Styles decided.
He entered the old hangout spot for the Shaggy Gang. The club. That has a name Styles couldn't remember for some reason (too many drinks since it was last mentioned on the air, perhaps).
"Oh my god, sorry I'm late. I just saw the most extreme thing of my life."
"Not a worry," Kay said. "Other than we're gonna die. In case you didn't notice, this isn't my shirt. I think that's my small intestine."
"It looks like a belt," Xamfir said. "But hey, feel free to just ignore the guy who was hacked by a machete."
"Aww, poor Xamfir," Kay said.
"Why is this happening, Styles?" Xamfir asked.
Music began playing. Imagine, "I'm The Only One" by Melissa Etheridge, give or take some talent.
"I've never seen dreams on a wrestling show before..."
Styles got a microphone and headed up onstage as Xamfir and Kay Fabe looked at videotapes.
"Extreme, this situation is sure looking grim
The Shaggy Gang's in trouble, and I can't help but feel
That Xamfir's responsible
But maybe the jobbers on TV released our worst nightmares
And now we're combining every stupid thing we've ever seen
Kay...look through the videos, for some ultimate kind of warrior
And Xamfir, help Kay, and try not to pee on the couch
And oh my god oh my god my god
And oh my god my god my gawhawhawhawwwwwd
And I'm a lesbian, I'll drown in my desire for you
Cuz when I got for 69 I know that yours is the same as mine
When all the promises are gone, I'm a lesssssssbiiiiiiiannnnnnnnnnnnn!
Oh my god...
Dommy and Soem's torsos hit two of the band members, and the music was over. There was the faintest sound at Styles feet.
A piece from the Clue game.
"I know who you are," Styles said without looking up to see who belonged to the shadow on the floor. "All the clues were there. I should have known. But I can defeat you. And so can Sarah. I'm not afraid of you. You have no real power."
Kick to the gut. Styles was between the attackers legs.
[Coma, stop playing with the buttons.]
Coma: Prog-rock was the retro version of futuristic electro-love-ballads. Hey, cover me in Spam! Narf!
[Aren't you in the Main Event? Go and get ready for your intro, damn it!]
Coma: If I push THIS hamster, all the balloons in Norway go "Eep!". Watch!
[Oh, for Gods sake. Coma goes to get ready for his match, while I stall for time. Where's that last Sarah skit?]
Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" opened up her eyes and saw an enormous nose pointing down at her over her bed. It looked like one of those things in the caves that hang down. The stalactites. Or stalagmites. Whatever those things are called. She blinked and woke up in a different bed.
"That was a bloody good trick," Little Good said, sitting up.
She blinked and ended up in another bed.
"Oh, hey sis. Didn't we just make this bed?"
"It's not my fault you're sleeping in it. With me. Which by the way, ewww. But Sarah, things are bad. Xamfir, Kay and Styles are lost."
"Something is coming for you. For us."
"Yeah, but what're you gonna do."
"You should take this," Michelle said, handing her a car radio antenna. "You should put it on your head."
"Oh. So it doesn't vibrate. Cool."
Off to the Bracket Office.
"Oh, hey, you."
"What are you doing here?"
"Just hanging with my good buddy, Detached Narrator. We've got a plan for you, haven't we?"
[Oh yes. We do.]
"A plan? Aren't plans usually involving conspiring against me? You don't want to do that against me, do you?"
"No. At least, not yet. You ready to go to the show?"
"Is it outside," she said turning around to look at the door.
Little Good appeared in front of her, by the door. "You know it, love."
Sarah slowly walked to the door and they were outside. Sarah looked at Little Good. Then ahead at the stage.
"I know them."
"You damn well better. 'Ace Of Spades' is a classic."
"Why can't I hear it?"
"You can't hear it because you don't want to hear it. Big shocker. You are like an island without Gilligan."
"Besides, they're not the point anyway."
They stood on the stage in the backyard.
Suddenly, Triple-H was behind her. Hunter Hearst Helmsley, the same one from World Wrestling Entertainment. Yes. This is a dream, remember? He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. His arms looked quite huge. He slowly circled her.
"You sent all these people here, didn't you? Didn't you??!!" Sarah asked, overdramatically.
"You're damn right I did! You are looking at the Jobber Maker. Guess we're in this thing together, in a way. I make 'em, you slay 'em. You see, I was the head of The Federation. I have been for a while now. And now, The Federation is dead. The one YOU turned your back on. Now, I am the head of...The Entertainment! And the rules have changed. Because I am the game and I can do that!"
"Why? Because you book everything to make yourself look like a god, even though you can barely walk anymore?"
"I'm not like you. Things have changed since you've been away. You were in BOB before, weren't you? Who were you?"
"Does it matter?"
"No. I'm not like you. You're all about money and glory. I've been doing this since I was a teenager."
"I'm not the First Slayer. You already met that bitch. But you're looking at the...uh...Third Slayer. But BOB will always be in my heart. The part of my heart where I'm glad I'm not there anymore, that is. You could be in the WW--
"Don't you DARE say that. This is not supposed to be about that. It's supposed to be about helping the world."
"Screw the world!"
"No. Screw you."
Sarah punched HHH in the nose and then hit a sidekick into his chest, sending him flying into a tree.
She had NEVER dusted anything!
"Triple H is a vampire? NO WAY!!!"
"Yeah. He sucks. It all makes sense now."
"Maybe it was just his knee?"
"No. I'm pretty damn sure that was a vamp dusting."
"Alright. Whatever. I think I'm gonna wake up now."
Sarah sat up on the couch.
Came face to face with Triple H.
"Not even DEATH will stop me from jobbing you out!"
Eye poke by Sarah. Triple H recoiled and fell to the floor. He jumped up and punched the glass ceiling. He picked a piece of it off the floor and began stabbing Sarah in the gut.
"Are you quite finished yet? You don't scare me. Especially in a dream."
Double mule kick to Triple-H's face. He goes flying into the wall.
"Now. If you really want a fight, come on down to Cloudydale. Don't do some stupid astral projection into me and my friends dreams. So why don't you just take your ratty ass out of my head and get into a place where you belong. The television."
Eyes opened. Not just on Sarah, but on Kay, Xamfir and Styles as well. They all sat up and looked at each other. Alive.
They looked at the BOB pay-per-view.
"Wow," Sarah said.
"The Third Slayer," Xamfir said.
"Isn't the Slayer supposed to be a girl?" Kay wondered.
"Well...yes," Styles said. "That's odd."
All their jaws dropped. We cut away before we get sued.
MA: Ladies and Gentlemen... this is our MAIN EVENT! And it will be for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS!
Canadian Stoner: Trippy, eh?
TV: Got the bastard!
Seth: Trey, get out of the lighting grid.
MA: Introducing first, the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS... BILLY POLAR!
BP's Voice: Oh yeah, snappy intro... I'M FROM HARVARD, DAMMIT!
MA: Hey, get your own Pay-Per-View and I'll read whatever you want to write, Polar! And his opponent... and challenger... From Parts Forgotten... weighing in at Pounds Forgotten... and accompanied by no-one, as Flatline's memory isn't too goood either... COMA!
[The Ramones Medley plays are traditionally insane volumes as Coma bounces down the aisle on a pogo-stick. It's obviously been a few years since Coma used a pogo-stick, as evidenced by the erratic progress he makes. By the time he's made his third circuit of a concession stand, The Flunky has arrived, dragging a huge casino wheel behind him.]
MA: This contest will be under a Random Stipulation!
SW: The BigBOSSes favorite kind...
MA: On this wheel is every Gimmick Match from BOB's history... and here to find out what sort of match we'll have is our Celebrity Wheel Spinner... CARROTTOP!
CT: Hey, this is great, eh? Great to be here in BOB... (Ducks fusillade of bottles) ..And back here in Canada, eh? (Narrowly avoids the ring-bell, thrown by GBH.) And so...
MA: Just spin the wheel, already!
CT: Okay! Just SPIN IT DOWN THE CENTER!
[The camera zooms in on the wheel as a stray bottle of Molson beans Carrottop. Guess he'll have to call 1-800-MEDICARE.]
SW: Nahh, call 1-800-LETHIMDIE.
[*snort* Anyway, the wooden pointer is aiming at a bright red segment of the wheel, clearly marked "ALL OF THE ABOVE".]
NH: Oh. My. God. Does this mean what I think it means?
MA: Sadly... yes. (Huge inhale) This contest will be under Hardcore Food Fight First Juice Casino of Doom Patatoes and Gravy Bowl No Escape For You...
[His voice fades in the background as Coma catapults himself over the railing to FINALLY make it to the ring. Where he found the catapult, I'll never know.]
MM: You are kidding me! If I understand this right, this match will involve EVERY gimmick from BOB's storied and surreal past!
NH: That's insane! Do you know how MANY Gimmick matches we've had?
Candy Cantaloupes: Worse than that, do you know how many ANNOUNCERS we've had. Move over!
SW: What, EVERYONE'S coming out to call this match?
GBH: Duh. Yur.
David Crockett: It'll be a GREAT MATCH!
Styles: OH MY GOD!
LilB: Can I get a cushion, please? I can't see the monitor...
"Charlie": Moo ower, yoo stoopid doo-doo head!
Commentator Coma: Fly me to Bombay, Mr Humperdink! Rolling with style, I believe!
MM: Coma, aren't you supposed to be in the match?
BigBOSS: Yes, but he was also a commentator on Classix.
LilB: Great, so we've created a massive temporal paradox that will probably cause the entire universe to collapse in on itself.
The Commentator: And you'll see it all happen, ONLY ON BOB'S BY-GAWD PAY-PER-VIEW!
SW: Hey, weren't you burnt to a crisp about an hour ago?
TC: Yep! Look, I'm wearing a Band-Aid, for gosh sakes!
NH: Hold on to your hats folks, this stupid match is only just beginning...
Everyone: AND HERE WE GO!
MM: Coma and Billy lock up... HIP TOSS by Polar! And he... allows Coma to stand up? That's most unlike him...
SW: He didn't kick him while he was down? I'll say it's unlike him! Was he given medical clearance for this match?
MM: HIP TOSS by Coma!
DC: Great move!
NH: Oh, I get it! It's the "Return to Sender" match from about two years ago! Whatever you do to your opponent, they get to do back to you! It's Comas' turn.
NH: And he honks Billys nose.
"Charlie": Whaaa? Dat not doo nuffing to Birry! He stoopid!
GBH: Duh. You just work dat out? Hee.
MM: Billy returns the favor... now he backs up. RUNNING CLOTHESLINE! Coma tumbles over the top rope!
SW: Straight into a wading pool full of chocolate sauce! I bet that looks familiar, huh Heidi?
Heidi: Sadly, yes...
TC: Let's look at some highlights of that match!
MM: OH MY GOD!! Did you see what just happened?
SW: See it? Man, I aint blinking till this match is over! YEAAAAAAHH!
GBH: Hur hur hur... yurrr!
MM: XXXtreme just inadvertantly ripped Heidis' top off! The crowd is going bananas!
MM: OH MY GOD!! Did you see what just happened?
SW: See it? Man, I aint blinking till this match is over! YEAAAAAAHH!
GBH: Hur hur hur... yurrr!
MM: XXXtreme just inadvertantly ripped Heidis' top off! The crowd is going bananas!
NH: All RIGHT! There was no need to play it twice!
SW: I beg to differ.
LilB: So do I..
MS: It was the GREATEST MOMENT IN BOB HISTORY!
MM: Back in the ring, Billy has moved to the apron. The White Luchador is gong aerial! ASAI MOONSAULT!
CC: Ohh, gross!
MM: Missed! And Candy Cantaloupes has been splattered with chocolate sauce from head to toe!
SW: Yeah, like THAT's never happened before! Heidi, want to go help her clean up?
NH: You wish, Whatbody...
TC: Good GAWD! Through hellfire and confectionary, these two are beating the HELL out of each other!
BigB: Well, not really, but thanks for trying to hype it, Commentator.
LilB: This is boring! Where's the cages? We have TONS of gimmicky cage matches in BOB! I booked most of them myself! Bring on the cages!
Styles: OH MY GOD! It's the Thunderdome! And above it is the Insanely High Revolving Scaffold! And on top of the scaffold is the Bamboo Cage! And inside that is the Teeny-Tiny Blue Steel Cage! And inside THAT is the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! This is EXTREME!
MS: Styles! That was incredible! That was the GREATEST EXPOSITION IN BOB'S HISTORY!
MM: Sadly, it's all for nothing, as Coma and Billy are OUTSIDE the Thunderdome. However, Coma has delved into his vague memories of being a wrestler... BODYSLAM! Right into the chocolate sauce!
NH: He's coming over here... hey sweetie! What do you want?
Commentator Coma: You can't have my bullocks, Melvin! I traded those for some magic beans!
Wrestler Coma: Poink! Drop it, Mr Snuffles! Good chinchilla! Whosagoodboy, den?
"Charlie": Why he steel dat scrip' for?
BigB: Coma has the paper.. and he's folding it! It's The Origami Deathmatch! What's he making?
LilB: Looks like a monkey holding a baseball bat to me... Who knew Coma had hidden skills?
GBH: Duh. Rainman?
DC: This is remarkable! What a MATCH!
MM: Wow! Every time he hits the monkey on the head, it whacks Billy with its baseball bat! That's remarkable!
CC: Yeah, who thought we'd see Coma spanking the monkey on TV?
NH: Billy gropes blindly for some paper... Wow, he made Origami Nun-Chuks! And look at him go to work! I'm so torn as to who to cheer for in this match.
LilB: Yep, the only guy in it you haven't slept with is the Generic Ref.
NH: Umm.. Yeah. That's ummm.. true. *ahem*
MM: Coma with a European uppercut to take the advantage! He raises his paper monkey threateningly...
MS: Oh, no! I hope that wasn't the monkey that tore! He'll be defenceless!
GBH: Not monkey. Hee. Can I get new. Umm. Pants, please?
William Shatner: Here, use... mine!
GBH: Duh. No way. No one like William Shatners Pants.
[The following private joke was paid for by the B-Movie Board of StompTokyo.com. Keep watching the skies!]
DC: Billy rakes the eyes! THAT'S NOT RIGHT! He grabs Coma by the throat...
TC: CHOKESLAM! CHOKESLAM! CHOKESLAM! All the way to Hell!
SW: Man, did it get hot in here, or WHAT?
Syles: OH MY GOD!
Styles: We're in Hell! In fact, we're on the Highway to Hell!
Bon Scott: Yeah!
"Charlie": Go away yoo stoopid dead Aussie!
BigB: Man, we're blowing the Christmas bonus money on this match!
LilB: WHAT Christmas bonuses? That'd be a first...
MM: Coma and Billy are duking it out! LOOK OUT! An out-of-control Humvee nearly ran both of them down! WHO WAS DRIVING THE HUMMER?!
Uday Hussein: I'm driving!
Qusay Hussein: No, I'M driving! Give me the wheel!
Idi Amin: Look, if it's not too much trouble, could you just drop me off at the nearest Starbucks?
NH: This is amazing!
BigB: It is a pretty amazing spectacle, all right.
NH: No, I mean it's amazing that the Main Event has been going for four minutes without a run-in...
MM: We'll soon fix that..
Joey Ramone: Get him, DeeDee!
MS: Oh my God!
Styles: Hey, get your own catchphrase!
MS: Two recently-departed members of the Ramones are coming to Comas' aid!
NH: Well, he is a big fan of the group... stands to reason, really.
SW: What are those guys doing in Hell? I demand a re-count!
DeeDee: Actually, they couldn't decide if we were meant to go to Heavan or Hell. So we got sent to Limbo.
Joey: And I HATE Calypso music! Let's DO IT!
MM: Whoa! The "You're Gonna Need Sedation"! Billy’s in trouble! He high-tails it out of there!
[Billy runs past a roadsign on the Highway to Hell, reading "Dublin, Next 4 exits".]
LilB: Interesting. Who knew Dublin was that close to hell?
"Charlie": Anyone whoo been there on Noo Year Eve?
BigB: And we're into the fabled Dublin Streetfight!
BP: We can't be in a Dublin Streetfight! I'm way too sober for that!
MM: Look! The Guiness Brewery is right across the street! What a wacky coincidence! They're in the loading dock!
SW: Look at all that beer! It's more like a "Get Loaded" Dock!
NH: Billy headbutts Coma and grabs some beers. Smashes one over Comas' head! Like he needs MORE head trauma! Billy chugs a bottle of stout in near-record time and continues the assault!
MM: Fall-away slam! Right into a huge crate of beer! Billy climbs onto the corner of the crate... he's balanced precariously up there!
MS: SENTON BOMB! WHATTAMANEUVER! But that had to take a lot out of both men!
[Two Guiness employees enter the loading dock at this point. They quickly seal up the crate and load it on the back of a lorry. Muffled thumps and tinkling glass can be heard from within. Cut to a map of England as jaunty music (circa 1945) plays. A dotted line moves from Dublin to Southampton, accompanied by seagull noises and the sound of a container ship. This gives way to aeroplane sound effects as the dotted line crosses the Atlantic to Africa. (Cue the howler monkey noises... unless that's just Coma.) The line ends somewhere in the middle of Zimbabwe. Cut to the announce team, seated at a long desk in the middle of a native village. The crate is being opened by several young Zimbabweans.]
MS: That was the GREATEST TRAVELOGUE IN BOB HISTORY!
MM: Yes, BOB fans, we're back in Zimbabwe, home of Kamikaze Ken and Mr Clavens' epic Zimbabwe Street Fight! They're just getting the crate open now...
CC: And there they are!
NH: Nice input, Candy. You're not just a pretty face. Relatively speaking.
CC: Up yours, bitch!
MM: Coma appears to have gotten the upper hand on the 18-hour flight from England! Gut-wrench suplex all the way from the crate to the ground! He climbs onto the edge.. SPINNING WEASEL-SAULT! Missed by a foot, but...
BigB: Thanks, Crockett.
GBH: Duh. My line here says "Duh". Does I say it now?
GBH: Guh. (Beat) D'oh. Can we re-shoot?
BigB: No, re-shoots are expensive.
Zimbabwe Cheiftan: Zunga yoosha bung? BUNTA!
CAPTION: Great, you guys AGAIN? GET THEM!
Commentator Coma: GUARDS! Seize the antelope, he's wired for sound! Flunge!
LilB: They've got pointed sticks! Everyone down!
BP: Hey! You can't throw spears at ME! I went to...
BP: Owie. That really hurt!
SW: I so wish we were somewhere else!
Jeannie: Well, okay... but this is the only wish I granting 'till my next paycheck clears!
[Where the hell are we? Wait, I recognise this place! ¡Oh, grande! Estamos en Suicida, México!]
MM: ¡La mayoría del lugar del hardcore en la cara del planeta!
"Charlie": ¿Whaaa? ¿Por qué hablo tan divertido?
Styles: ¡COH MI DIOS! ¡Mire el anillo! ¡Es realmente un tanque por completo de anguilas eléctricas!
Coma: ¡Tirón en el thee, sir Gerald! ¡Prepárese para el juego del hippo que estalla! ¡Poink!
NH: ¡El coma envolvió casi esa anguila alrededor de la garganta de Billys! ¡Esto es EXTREMO! La maldición, de que debe haber sido línea de los estilos.
SW: I am so fucking lost here... I don't speak a word of Spanish!
Jeannie: Idea aceptable, mala. Bien, uno más poco deseo no lastimaría cualquier persona.
CAPTION: Hoi Phong, Vietnam. Leech mating season.
BP: (Covered in leeches) Man, this sucks. Jeannie, any chance of ...
Jeannie: Forget it! Here, take this!
BP: A monkeys paw?
Jeannie: It's all yours. Just be careful with your wishes, the monkeys take most things literally and have an unhealthy lust for irony.
BP: I wish I was in a proper match in a proper arena under proper rules!
MM: Billy Polar short-arm clotheslines Coma to the mat. Now Coma standing. Coma hits him with a back fist. Billy gets hit with a dragon screw from Coma. Coma gets up. Coma hits a jumping elbow thrust on Billy Polar. Billy Polar gets hit with the shooting star press from Coma. Earl Hebner counts the pin. ...1 Billy Polar escapes. Jericho rolls onto Coma connecting with a knee. Coma gets hit with a diving elbow smash from Billy Polar. Billy Polar climbs to his feet. Billy Polar puts Coma in an arm grapevine submission. Coma gets hit with the shooting star press from Billy Polar
BP: AHHHHGH! This is even worse! I wish there was some way I could get out of hee!
[When the smoke clears, Billys seated at the wheel of a small, powerful car.]
[Quick comedy zoom-out! Look at the OTHER small, powerful cars in the arena, all aimed directly at him! Demolition Derby Match!]
Coma: (Revving his motor) Load the chickens, ensign! FIRE tubes one through infinity! YOIKS!
BP: (Stalling his motor) Oh, crap...
[Cut to the outside of the arena. Seconds later, Billys Rent-a-Wreck exits at high speed, on its roof. When the dust settles, Billy can be seen crawling dazed from the crumpled car.]
BP: There goes the no-claim bonus on my auto insurance... (Falls over)
MM: And here comes Coma out of the arena! Covers! One.. two.. No! Billy got the shoulder up! And we've just been informed we're in Hazard County! It must be time for a Hazardous Hazard Streetfight!
SW: Yee-haa. Doesn't look all that hazardous to me, though.
BigB: Hmm, he's right. Release the bulls!
Coma: Poink? Look, smell, what's that sound? Is that the weiners sizzling?
MS: The Matador Deathmatch! It's like the Running of the Bulls, only with just TWO idiots instead of hundreds!
SW: Yeah, and the guys in Spain haven't got chocolate sauce on their boots! They can't get any traction!
DC: THAT'S NOT RIGHT!
MM: GORE! GORE! GORE!
[Cut to an empty wrestling arena. Two descending whistles are heard. Seconds later, Billy and Coma enter via the retractable roof.]
Styles: This is EXTREME!
"Charlie": Yoo no flucking kiddin', pal.
CC: Okay, what are we up to? anyone still got a script?
BigB: I think it's the Lumberjack Match section, but don't quote me.
NH: Yep, here come a gaggle of Pokemon fans. Well, six of them anyway. Guess it's not as popular as it was when Monday Morning Mayhem 3 screened.
SW: But check it out! On the other side of the ring are the Lumberjacks dressed as Religious Figures! And they're attacking the Pokemon fans!
Religious Figure Lumberjack: I choose YOU, Krishna!
Styles: OH, MY ASSORTED GODS! The Electrified Cage is lowering! And inside the ring, the Stupidly Low Scaffold is laying diagonally from turnbuckle to turnbuckle!
LilB: There's only one thing missing. Drop the Cheese!
MM: We're re-creating the Battle Royale (With Cheese) too? But you can't have a Battle Royale (With Cheese) with only two participants!
BigB: Sure you can! This way we're also doing the Worlds Smallest Battle Royal, only with just two people this time!
MS: A Two-Man Battle Royale (With Cheese)! This is HISTORY IN THE MAKING!
LilB: Weren't we going to do a whole series of Worlds Smallest Battle Royals? With each subsequent one having less and less guys in it?
BigB: Hmm, you're right. Remind me to dock that Leary guys pay. Slacker.
[Hey, you forgot one of the Gimmick Battle Royals we had. Let me add a few dozen tables around the ring.]
TC: Billys the first back to his feet! He drags Coma to a vertical base and slams his head into the scaffold! That's a STEEL SCAFFOLD! Fires him to the turnbuckle! That's a FOAM turnbuckle, folks! Flying forearm from Billy! Hit him right in the External occipi.. occapetal.. octopiddle.. right in the back of the head! Coma hit the cage and loom at him twitch! GOOD NIGHT! That's REAL ELECTRICITY! This is a happening!
SW: Look, pick ONE commentator to steal from, man!
"Charlie": Stoopid dookie head.
Commentator Coma: Fwee! Garbage in, Microsoft out! International big-time dodgeball on channel 7!
CC: Billy must be getting overconfident! There's the Big Wiggle.. and the "Slapping-My-Own-Ass-While-Pretending-To-Do-Coma-Up-The-Butt" Dance!
NH: That was probably the most disturbing thing I've seen in this Pay-Per-View... and that covers a HELL of a lot of ground!
MM: Meanwhile, outside the ring, A many-armed Vishnu has dragged a helpless Pokemon fan onto the folding card table! Self-Assisted Spiked Piledriver! Oh, but he gets blasted from behind with the a steel briefcase packed with sinfully expensive playing cards by a Pokemaster!
NH: Billy has Coma up on the Scaffold! Comas' got something hidden behind his back, though... It's a wedge of Edam! Billy never saw it coming!
GBH: Duh. Dat no gouda. Hee.
MM: Coma has Billy... LEAPING DIAMOND CUTTER off the scaffold! What impact!
TC: No, that was HELLACIOUS IMPACT! Trust me on this one!
MM: Whatever! Both men lying in a pile of semi-congealed milk curds! Coma has his hand over Billys chest! Where's the ref?
LilB: Missed his connection at Dublin Airport, apparently.
BigB: Ahh, he'll catch up sooner or later.
MM: Yep, that's long enough. Coma has got his hands on the Monkeys Paw! He raises it above his head! He's about to spank the Billy with a monkey!
Coma: Drop the banana, Maurice! Drat, there's no balongna left! I wish I was the King! Uh-huh!
DC: Oh, no! The Monkeys Paw took Coma literally! He's just changed into Elvis Presley!
BigB: Or a reasonable facsimile, anyway. We had an "Elvis Impersonator" Match, didn't we?
LilB: Kind of. You got Bookers Block and made it a screwjob. Like always.
BigB: Hey, shut up, Underling!
MM: Coma has Billy in a front facelock... SHAKE, RATTLE and ROLL! Nailed him! But Billy bounces right back up again! What the heck?
Billy: Elvis didn't SING "Shake, Rattle and Roll", you idiot! That was Bill Haley and the Comets! How many times do I have to correct people on this...
GBH: Duh. Delayed reaction.
NH: What was that?
Styles: Oh, MY GOD! The low-budget ring just collapsed! Where did Billy and Coma go?
NH: No idea. Pass me the script. Okayy, what page are we on? Probably this one, made semi-illegible by a combination of blood, beer and cheese. Looks like they're in the Boiler Room!
NH: Or possibly the Coal Mine that just happens to be below this very arena.
MM: Clive, wanna get down there and check?
Clive: Blow that out your ass, eh?
MM: Okay-doke! Folks, stick with us... we don't know how long this match will continue, but we'll be with you every step of the way! Unless the scriptwriters brain burns out and it becomes a humongous screwjob! In which case, it's every commentator for himself!
BigB: Hey, shut up, Underling! FANS! If you like THIS Pay-Per-View, why not order our NEXT Pay-Per-View! Do it! DoitdoitdoitdotDOIT! Or we'll club a baby fur seal to death! On your front lawn! Slowly! We mean it!
LilB: Nice hard-sell, BOSS.
BigB: Thank you..
MM: Well folks, somehow.. and don't ask me how... we've made it to the parking lot of the arena in Kitchener. Coma and Billy have emerged from the Coal Mine Rumble only slightly bruised, and are continuing their battle as we speak!
NH: Great, it's the lead singer of "Rage Against the Machine" again... Anyone know his name yet?
MM: Uhhh.. Zach something, I think.
NH: Great. So why did he hit the Generic Ref for?
DC: Issues with authority figures? I mean.. THAT'S NOT RIGHT!
MM: They're heading for a conveniently-placed halfpipe! It's "Skate or Die" time!
NH: I wondered why Billy was wearing roller-blades!
SW: Nuh-uh! Those are Aggressive In-Line Skates!
NH: What's the difference?
SW: Well, if they were Roller Blades... he'd be gay. Kind of like the difference between "keeping a journal" and "writing in a diary".
NH: Yeah, whatever, Scoot.
MS: Billy Polar with a 50-50 Coma-grind! THAT WAS INCREDIBLE!
MM: Coma gets on his skateboard...
MM: ...And falls off. He tries again...
LilB: Well this is going nowhere fast.
NH: Billy has climbed to the top of the halfpipe! He drops in...
BP: OH SHIIIIT!
DC: SLAMMED himself on the flat-bottom!
Styles: Somebody ducked out on the practise session this morning, huh?
BigB: That's okay, so did Coma.
[While this is fun to watch, it's also getting dull. Let's cut inside the arena to, say... five minutes later.]
CAPTION: Five Minutes Later.
"Charlie": Ooh, dat got to hurr!
MS: That was the GREATEST USE OF A DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS CORE RULEBOOK IN BOB'S HISTORY!
[Ahh. The "Tools of Geekdom Match" Booor-ing!]
CAPTION: Five MORE Minutes Later
MM: Explosive Yo-Yo Deathmatch!
LilB: Did we even HAVE one of those?
BigB: Ahh, who's going to go back through four years of videotape to check?
Coma: Fly fisherman at twenty paces! Invert the muskrat!
CC: And they're FINALLY back at the ring!
GBH: Duh. you got worse wordies dan. Umm. Me. Yur.
CC: Tell me about it.
XXXtreme Machine: hay i ws a commenatr 2 lt me clal teh mmatcg
XXXtreme Machine: ow
SW: Hey, there's a point. What happened to the Commentator?
BigB: Ahh, I forgot to write any dialogue for him after the Battle Royale (With Cheese) and I just can’t be bothered re-editing this mess.
GBH: Duh. No big loss. Yur.
MM: And they're inside the Thunderdome! While we've been gone, The Flunky has attached a roll of duct tape on a fishing pole and covered the ring in stinky footwear... Yep, I think that just about covers it!
TF: Where do you want these sumo suits?
BigB: What were they for... Oh, God! That was Vosses idea, wasn't it? Screw that!
NH: Billy has Coma in a side headlock...
BP: Spell "Introspection"!
Coma: P-O-I-N-K. "Introspection".
NH: And Coma tastes the over-used footwear! That's disgusting!
Coma: Spell "Flibble"!
BP: Hah! Easy! P-O-I-N.. Aw, nuts!
MM: And Coma reverses it! Back suplex into a pile of soggy British Knights! And Comas' starting to climb the Thunderdome!
MS: Wait! We've just been informed that this is under "Intercourse Cage Match" rules!
Styles: Oh, MY GOD! That means no-one can win until there's bodily fluids on the mat!
BigB: Okay, that's good enough.
MM: Billy climbs the Dome as well... they're clinging to the sides, firing punches at each other. Coma reaches the hatch in the top first. Billys trying to hang on to him, but Comas the first onto the Scaffold!
LilB: I hope the ring crew set it up right this time. We don't want a repeat of that "One Mile a Second" incident.
Ring Crew Chief: Oh, ayup! We followed the blueprints exactly this time.
LilB: Uhh, Gerry. These blueprints are for a pop-up toaster.
RCC: Oh. Oops. Hope they don't push the lever, then.
CAPTION: Three Minutes Later.
NH: And they're back to the top of the Dome once more!
BP: Okay, Coma... this time, DON'T push that lever.
BP: THIS lever...
BP: Oh fuc...
CAPTION: Three MORE Minutes later.
MM: And they're back on the Scaffold again! Comas' snagged the duct-tape on the way up... what's he doing?
DC: He's duct-taping HIMSELF to the Bamboo Cage! THAT'S NOT RIGHT! How can he win the match like that?
[Super-fast zoom to Coma's foot, resting on the lever.]
Coma: Hee hee.
MS: AND COMA STANDS ALONE ON THE SCAFF... (Static)
SW: Hey, Marks' microphone exploded! I always knew that'd happen to him sooner or later.
NH: He's right, though... Comas' all by himself up there! He reaches into the Teeny-Tiny Cage... He's got the belt... all he has to do is unclip it and he's the champion!
CAPTION: Three Minutes Later.
MM: He's nearly figured out how to undo the buckle... Billys nearly back on the Scaffold... and... and...
Everyone: HE DID IT!
MA: Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner... and NEEWWWWWWWW "ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS".... COOOOOMMMMMAAAA!
MS: (Faintly) What a.. thingee.
MM: Yes, it was... good.
NH: Yes. Good.
SW: Our scriptwriters brain just exploded, didn't it?
GBH: Duh. Fink so.
Commentator Coma: And that's all the time we have from the year Imploding Duck and Badger show! Join us next winter for the exciting prequel! Goodnight, Matron! Poink!
© BOB 2003: What the HELL happened to the Insano Mano/Ken Seventh match?