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Poinkamania 2

POINKAMANIA II, Part III: The Unsatisfying Conclusion

OR: "Where's Deus X. Macheena When You Really Need Him?"

BANG! WHIZZZ! PHFUT!

The Flunky: God-DAMN these cheap Taiwanese fireworks!

SW: Hi folks, we're back! Again. Welcome to the third half of the show that feels like an bad HBO mini-series, Poinkamania II! I'm still Scotty Whatbody, along with Nurse Heidi, Styles, Seth Harker and the man who doomed us to a week of watching this mess, Coma!

Coma: Oh, well played sir! See you after the next chukka for tea and weasel-cakes! Gleep!

NH: Well said, Coma. We'd better bring you up to speed with what happened during the intermission, so Styles, take it away!

[Cut to Styles sitting in the same set from Comas' "News Bulletin" skit.]

Styles: Good evening, welcome, kia ora and oh my GOD! When we last left our intrepid heroes, they were traversing the icy peaks of Mt VonSqeekybum...

[Styles pauses, reads his script quickly, then tosses it aside.]

Styles: Thanks, Coma, but I'll wing it if that's okay.

Off-screen Voice: Narf!

Styles: When we went to the break, Sarah was still knee deep in jobbers, ham-and-eggers and the occasional over-the-hill main eventer. However, several eliminations thinned the field out a bit. Lynette "Bull" Dykstra was pinned by Christina Gagulira and was last seen heading for a more "lifestyle-friendly" state.

[The screen behind Styles shows the street sign at the corner of Haight and Ashbury. ]

Styles: Mully was eliminated, but if we tell you how, we'll be arrested by the NSA. Mr. X is also gone, but due to an order from the Jobber Protection Program, we can't show you how, either.

[The screen has gone black.]

Off-screen Voice: I ain't saying nuffin!

Styles: A clever double-team by Atomo and Dr. Thrilla spelled the end of the night for Randi Handi.

[The screen lights up again with a video replay. Atomo is standing behind Randi, holding a steel chair.]

Dr Thrilla: *clanging noises*

RH: Meeee?

Atomo: PERHAPS I SHOULD BE THE ONE TO SAY Input: LOOK BEHIND YOU?

Styles: Sarah, meanwhile, pinned Pzremswvk with the Kick of Indecisivness...

[More footage.]

StJS: Left foot or right foot? Which whould you prefer?

Pzremslwvk: Gooshta pathoomb!

StJS: Bless you. *KICK!*

Styles: With Bobo and Hank battling things out in the PIT OF INDESCRIBABLE AGONY...

Comas' Voice: RELEASE THE PIANO!

Musical-sounding CRASH

Styles: ...it looked like Sarah would have time to rest. She didn't, of course. In quick sucession, RVD, BVD, DMD and LBJ arrived at ringside. The Generic Ref got so confused, he DQ'ed the lot of them. TRIPLE S tried a sneak attack, but the S proved to stand for "Sucky", not "Sneaky", and he was gone as quickly as he came.

[The screen behind Styles is now showing Sumo wrestlers training. Go fig.]

Styles: POPE JOHN PAUL II was scheduled to enter next, but due to circumstances beyond his control, failed to arrive. HECTOR "CRUDE" OIL led a charge of former STWF wrestlers, but was eliminated in less than a minute. With oil prices as high as they are, it's probably all the BigBOSS could afford. His STWF stablemates didn't make much of an impression either, due to over four years of ring-rust. COLONEL"POPS" KHORNE, THE ORGAN GRINDER, PIGEON and RICK SICKLY were dispatched via a series of Glass Ceiling Kicks.

[Actual in-ring footage]

KICK!

StJS: Not big enough to main event!

KICK!

StJS: Not related to the owner!

KICK!

StJS: Refused to join in with the Champs' hilarious Hazing Ritual in the showers...

[The screen cuts to a picture of a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman.]

RCMPman: I wish I was a lumberjack.

Styles: TERRA RISM was a surprise entrant, but since the Obvious Political Satire had been covered when Al Queda was in the ring, he didn't have a lot to do and was swiftly pinned by Bobo Q. Fiendish. MARTIN "Screeching Old Lady" DIMICK was next out, but no-one could remember what his gimmick was, so he headed to the bar instead. We now return to the match in progress. Over to you Styles!

[Cut to the announce team.]

Styles: Thank me very much! Of course, that wrap-up took so long that ART TERRY, ROB VAN SPAM and DOUBLE GAY have all entered AND been eliminated from the match. So that's three more guys we don't have to commentate on. Go me!

NH: Okay, so who have we got in the match at the moment... There's Sarah, of course, Bobo Q. Fiendish, Hank, Atomo, Dr. Thrilla and Christina Gagulira. That sound right to everybody?

SH: I'm cool with that. As usual.

SW: Hank and Bobo are still in the PIT OF AGONY... Hank has a death-grip on Bobo's throat! Bobo returns the favor! Are they about to do what I THINK they're about to do? Styles, call it!

Styles: OH MY GOD! They chokeslammed each other onto the remains of a baby grand piano! Which caught fire! And exploded!

[Cut to Ken and Insano Mano, playing Russian Roulette in a room full of shouting Vietnamese men.]

KK: Pussies.

[Cut back to ringside as Dr. Thrilla and Sarah get 3-counts on Bobo and Hank.]

SW: And two of the heavyweights of Parody Wrestling are GONE! That'd be a major upset if anyone knew what the hell was going on in this match.

Coma: HERRRRE he comes to save the day!

NH: Looks like CAPTAIN TWILIGHT is our next entrant. And here he comes now! (pause) Oh, dear.

[A man in black carries a funeral urn down the aisle as sad organ music plays.]

SW: Aw crap, did the old fart kick the bucket? That's a damn shame. At least he didn't no-show, like SOME guys I could mention.

[Cut to The Bar, Inc. Martin Dimmick is playing Quarters with ENRIQUE ESPANYOLA, LAS VEGAS DAVIS, MC CARJACK, DIZZY DESI and SASQUATCH.]

LVD: Like any of US were likely to win? Leave us alone.

[Cut back to ringside, just in time to see the black-garbed individual raise the urn and..]

CLONK!

NH: Hey! That's not Captain Twilights' pallbearer! That IS Captain Twilight! The wily veteran.. and I mean veteran as in "World War II...".. just cold-cocked Dr Thrilla! He covers..1..2..3! (High-pitched shriek) HE GOT HIM!

Styles: AHHHGH!

NH: See! Now you see how annoying it is for us, Styles!

Coma: My scriptwriter fell asleep. Pop the trycycle!

DB: Hey guys, can I borrow that microphone?

SW: Uuuhhh, sure, Danny.

DB: Thanks. Ladies and gentlemen, the following wrestlers will be barred from participating in tonights match, due to a written protest from the Associated Secular Society for the Promotion Of Universal Niceness and Decency in America...

SW: ASSPOUNDA?

SH: Heh.

DP: ...BEASTIE AL! NECRO PHIL! CHOADS MOKER! THE FUMBUCKERS! And FESTERING DEATH!

=C]: THE HELL WE'RE BARRED FROM ENTERING! PREPARE FOR AN LITTLE ASS-POUNDING OF YOUR OWN, BONADUCE!

=<>: YOU WON'T FEEL A THING, FUCKER! AND IF YOU DO, WE DON'T GIVE A SHIT!

=C]: HOLD UP A SECOND! THERE'S A READY-MADE CORPSE IN THE RING ALREADY!

Captain Twilight: I'm not dead yet!

=<>: NO? YOU SURE LOOK LIKE YOU ARE! AW, SCREW IT, YOU'RE CLOSE ENOUGH FOR US!

*STAB!*

*RAPE!*

NH: Oh, dear Lord! Could there be a more disgusting sight than an 90-year-old man being raped by two smileys?

[Cut to Rosie O'Donnell giving Carrottop a lap-dance.]

NH: Thank you SO much, DN.

[I can never resist a challange.]

=<>: RIGHT, WHERE'S THAT KAY FABE BITCH? I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DO HER FOR YEARS!

SH: Hey!

[Cut to Justin Hawkins of the Darkness.]

JH: (sings) Get your hands offfa my woman, mother fuckerrrrr!

[Cut back to Seth.]

SH: Couldn't have put it better myself.

[Seth leaps into the ring in a blur of budget-blowing special effects. Now, as much as I like Festering Death, that's all we'll get to see of them. Using my near omnipitent powers of narration, I know that the following five minutes of the show were eventually seized by the FBI, outlawed, erased and finally burnt to a crisp in an effort to save society from the disgusting pervesity of Festering Deaths antics. Bootleg DVD copies were being sold on the Internet within 24 hours. The only footage we can show is this brief exchange between Seth, Sarah and Kay Fabe.]

StJS: Seth, you have to let Kay go! You're smothering her!

SH: Look, I don't need advice on my love-life, Sarah. Especially with your taste in men!

StJS: No, I mean you really have to let her go, you're actually smothering her.

KF: *choke* *gack*

SH: Oh, crap. Sorry, babe. Thought you were Spacecop... Stupid overly-dark glasses.

[We'll pick up the live action by having Scotty swear.]

SW: FUCK! I have NEVER seen anything more disgusting in my LIFE! And I've been to France!

NH: At least it's over! Festering Death are back in Hell where they belong, and hopefully they'll never darken our ring again.

SW: Literally. What IS that stain on the canvas, anyway?

Styles: I'm afraid to speculate, Scotty! Let's make sense of this carnage! PEDRO CHANG is limping back to the locker room! DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL are going too... I didn't see them get pinned, but without Festering Death around to hand out anal rapage, they don't see any point sticking around. The Flunky picks up the last few pieces of Atomo, the Now-Semi-Living Robot... better get him a Phillips-head screwdriver and a table, he's going to be a busy boy tonight! Seths' back from the locker room to join us.. glad to see you cleaned most of that... fluid... off your jacket, Seth.

NH: I don't see "Stone Hot" STEVE DAWSON anywhere, either! He might have been pinned while we were distracted by Spaceduck's "party trick"... the one that used Christina Gagulira and the ring-bell, remember?

*group shudder*

SH: Trying hard to forget, Heidi. Christinas' back in the showers trying to forget it, too.

SW: So at the moment, we've got Sarah, STINKYBUTT NASTYASSand THE PUSSY involved in a three-way! I love it when that happens! Stinkbutt has a kendo stick! He's pounding the Pussy!

StJS: SUPER-SLO-MO KICK!

K...

SW: Full-Nelson! Stinkybutt Nastyass has his hands all over the Pussy! Lucky bastard!

I...

SW: Irish whip.. no! Pussy whip! The Pussys' on fire!

NH: Can I recommend natural yoghurt for that?

C...

SW: Flying leg-lariat! One of those smooth legs gets Stinkbutt in the chin! Gotta love it when the Pussys shaved! Stinkbutt spins around..

K!

Styles: Slow-Mo Kick SCORES! Stinkybutt gets it in the gut...

FWAAAAPPPPPPP!

*smoke alarms go off all over the arena*

THUMP! THUMP!

NH: The Pussy collapses! Stinkbutt collapses! Sarah stumbles... tries to right herself... trips on Stinkybutt...

THUMP!

SW: And Sarah goes down on the Pussy! Turn out the lights, this Pussy is DONE!

SH: And finally, so are your non-stop single entendres.

NH: But Sarah is down and she's not moving! She's helpless!

Styles: OH MY GOD, you're right! The next BOB-ster to enter the fray could become the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS without even trying! Who will it be!

[The curtains part a little, and The YGBKIADTAYOOYFM Hardocre Title Belt is tossed out into the aisle.]

SH: Then again, maybe not. Could we get someone else out here?

[The curtain parts a second time. The [dubbed voice]Hirohito, Where Am I? This Is Not Tokyo![/dubbed voice] Title Belt is tossed out, landing on top of the YGBKIADTAYOOYFM Hardocre Title Belt. Coma runs over.]

Coma: Tuna! Raygun! Fleeb! Tune the salmon, it's gone all floppy!

NH: *sigh* Could we get someone ELSE out here?

[The curtain parts a third time, and Unit 5 is tossed out, crashing on it's side. Both belts are trapped beneath him. It.. Whatever.]

Coma: Poink! Narf! Three!

NH: Why do I even bother?

Styles: Sarah looks like she's reviving slightly, meaning Seth and Heidi both missed a golden opportunity to win the OWTTM!

[Zoom in on Seths' face. 360 degree spin. Even closer zoom-in on him.]

SH: Nuts.

SW: And Sarah gingerly covers Stinkybutt... And he's gone! That'll clear the air a little!

POOOOT!

Styles: Not for long! Here comes GRAPHIC FLATULANCE!

NH: And he's followed by KEVIN the PYROMANIAC! Does this sound like a dangerous combination to anyone else?

SW: Scotty Sense tingling...

SH: Not cool. SO not cool.

Styles: Can I make a suggestion?

NH: Is it "Run", Styles?

Styles: You read my mind. CHEESE IT!

[Slow-mo. The announce team runs toward the camera. Except Seth, who walks cooly toward the camera like he's in a Michael Bay movie. Behind them, Kevin flicks his Zippo as Graphic Flatulance lets go a Trouser-Torturer. Sarah ducks and covers as the ring goes...]

*KA-BLOOOOMIE-WHOOSH!*

[Weirdest-sounding explosion I've ever heard. When the last of the flaming debris hits the floor, the Geraldo Rivera Sports Emporium has become the Geraldo Rivera Dome. Well, it's a nice night and it serves the BigBOSS right for not booking an open-air arena in the first place. Cheap prick.]

BigB's Voice: I do NOT cheat on my wife!

NH: *cough* Oh, I am getting so sick of this night. Coma, are things going to get worse before they get better?

Coma: Very possibly, Mr Renzor. In fact, I'd bet my xylophone on it!

Styles: It defintley got worse for Mr Intensity... he was hiding in the rafters getting ready for his entrance!

SW: You think that's bad? Both Undietakers were hiding UNDERNEATH the ring!

[Cut to Flatfoot, Arizona. Mr Intensity crash-lands in the main street. A second later, a cage full of hamsters drops out of the sky too, bouncing off his head. A local strolls over and pins him easily.]

SW: Wow, the first guy to start a match in one state and get pinned in another! That's got to be a first! I'm assuming Kevins' been eliminated, too.

[Zoom to a pair of smoking wrestling boots. Cut to Ken and Insano, inside a tigers cage at Havanafannabanana Zoo.]

IM: Cobardes.

[Cut to a butchers shop in Homey, Michigan.]

Female Butcher: John, stop dragging my heart around...

1st Male Butcher: Can I slip you some tongue?

2nd Male Butcher: Oh, liver alone.

[Cut to Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plains. And the waving wheat, it sure smells sweet, and these are a few of my favourite things., yadda, yadda, yadda. If this turns into another musical number, I'll kill you Coma.]

*music starts*

[*sigh*]

Effeminite Young Man: (tapdancing) Good Morning, good morn-ing!
We've sang and danced, the whole night through,
Good morning, good morning,
To you!

Young Woman: It's nine in the evening, Chad.

Young Man: Shit.

[Cut back to ringside in time to see Sarah toss Graphic Flatulance into the PIT OF INDESCRIBABLE AGONY!]

Coma: RELEASE THE DANCING CHICKENS!

NH: And so Graphic Flatulance joins a kick-line of poultry and dances out of the arena, leaving Sarah alone in the debris that was previously a ring. Can we take another break?

SH: Seconded.

[Cut to blac..]

SW: Hell no, we can't! Check out who's floating down from the sky!

Styles: KURT ANGEL? OH MY GOD!

Kurt Angel: Met him. He says "Hi!", Styles...

StJS: Angel? You've come back? Again? You have to stop doing that! Seriously.

KA: I'm sorry, Sarah, I had to. I have this strange urge to have a long, meaningful conversation with you. About.. stuff. Like, life, cookie dough, the way that my pants ride up in the crotch when I go pony riding, Swiss cheese, cabbages and Don King. That sort of thing. Oh, hi Little Good.

LG: Look, I'm confused. Am I on YOUR bloody show now, or hers? 'Cause I'm scheduled to have rough, self-destuctive sex with someone, and I'm really hoping it's not you, mate.

StJS: *KICK OF ECSTACY!*

LG: Thanks, love.

*THUMP!*

StJS: Now where were we? Cookie dough, you say?

SW: BORING! I'm gonna make like the WB and cancel this crap! Look who's coming down the aisle! It's the UBER-VAMPRE WARRIOR! He's back! Go kick a little Slayer ass, Gangrel!

Styles: But Sarah is holding something up... and he's being repelled! What is it, a crucifix?

StJS: Nope, even better! It's a BOB contract, showing how much money he'll lose if he quits the WWE and comes back to work for us.

UVW: ARRRGH! It's BURNS! *hiss*

[Kurts watch plays "Ave Maria" in beeps.]

KA: Oops, time's up. We'll talk about cookie dough in my next cameo, Sarah. Ciao!

POOF!

NH: So long, Kurt! Again. Coma, this is taking forever! Speed things up a bit, huh?

Coma: Twist the moose? You evil woman! But, okay! Fleeble! Now excuse me, I'm off to the races! Ta-ra!

[The film suddenly speeds up, turning the commentary into "Chip 'n' Dale on Helium". FANBOY, FEMINIE MYSTIQUE, THE FIRE CHIEF, FLATLINE, THE FLASKMASTER, FRANCIS and ABDULLAH FULLA SHIITE run into the arena at sixteen times normal speed. Since most of them were jobbers, they get pinned at 32 times normal speed. The film slows down just as The Big Blue Cage is wheeled in. Inside are NIC FLARE, COLLOSAL CRANIUM CHRIS, DovE, DUSTBUSTER BOY and "SMART" MARK GREEN are all inside, hitting each other with plumbing supplies.]

StJS: Hey, the door is locked! How am I supposed to get in?

The Flunky: I'm sure I have the key around her somewhere! I had it just a minute ago!

SW: Oh, just wheel them back out... Seth, wake up.

SH: *snort* Oh, was I asleep? I just thought Coma forgot to write me any dialogue. Are we finished yet?

Styles: Not remotely! Here comes the sWo!

NH: That's just Hack Hogan, Styles.

Styles: Yes, this is the sWo LoneWolf Pack! Wait 'till you hear their catchy, fresh slogan!

HH: BUY MY T-SHIRTS!

StJS: This is SO 1996. OLD-SCHOOL KICK!

HH: OW! You busted a dope move on me! That's wack! Word! (falls over)

SW: Next, please!

Captain Obvious: I'm Captain Obvious! And I'm next! And I probably won't win this match!

StJS: Good guess! *FRONT LEG SIDE BACK KICK!*

NH: Got him! He's gone! And could we PLEASE get someone out here who doesn't suck balls?

[DA SASSY BITCH runs out.]

NH: I think I'm going to cry.

Coma: Lance, that's NOT your watermelon baller! I'll tell the warden on you!

SW: Hang on, we got more guys coming out! And that's not a gay joke, but with Da Sassy Bitch in there, God knows it should be!

Styles: JEAN BANNISTER! "KERMIT"! JERRY CURL JONES! Some guy I don't recongnise! Oh, it's the WHEELBARROW MAN! K-CON! "WILD" ISSACIUS HICKOK! "THE WOLFENATOR" WOLFGHANG PRICE! KELLY ERIK! "TOTALLY PACKAGED" JIM! BALLS JABRONIE! This looks bad for Sarah! Ten on one! I don't like those odds!

NH: I do!

SW: And Heidis' going in, too! She's picking this as the moment to strike! What about you, Seth?

SH: That many scrubs coming out at once? No way. Five bucks says this is a set-up...

["The Sound of Stuff (including Cookie Jars) Breaking" plays as LUKE WARM and HARDCORE JJ run out to a mammoth pop. (In stereo, even!) douja also staggers out, although it's likely he's just found his way to the ring for his match with Hallucination Boy. Luke runs straight through the PIT OF AGONY!]

Coma: RELEASE THE RABID WATERBUFFALO!

THUD!

Styles: STONECUTTER! STONECUTTER! Luke Warm with a STONECUTTER on a RABID WATERBUFFALO! Hardcore JJ spins Kerry Erik around.. boot in the knees.. HARDCORE DROP! douja gets his hands on Jean Bannister... STONERCUTTER! STONERCUTTER! Luke with a STONECUTTER on Hickok! Hardcore Drop for Balls Jabronie! And one for Jerry Curl Jones!

K-Con: Uh, could we get some help out here?

SW: The Dude That's a Dead Ringer for Clinton runs-in and... STONECUTTER! There's THE SNAPMARE KID... and he's given the Chronic Neck Pain by douja! Sarah with the "NOT IN THE FACE!" Kick on Heidi! HARDCORE DROP for K-Con!

SH: They only do one move, but they do it well, huh? CZECH PLEES!

SW: You're leaving, Seth?

SH: No, I mean the Plees brothers are here. I wonder if these guys have learned how to wrestle in the last five years?

THUMP! THUMP!

Luke Warm: I never even touched them!

SH: Whoa. They got worse? Oh, and welcome back, Heidi. Nice timing.

NH: Oh, be quiet.

Coma: Inane random comment! Silly Noise! Coma falls over!

[Coma falls over.]

Styles: Luke Warm and Hardcore JJ are still running riot out there! The remaining wrestlers from the ten-on-one attack have run away! BACK ROAD BILLY never even made it to the ring! THE PHOBIC took one look at them and had a panic attack! THE MAN WHO SLIGHTLY RESEMBLES NIXON tried to bribe them, but takes a HUGE Hardcore Drop!

Hardcore JJ: I pardon you! What? I said I pardon you!

SW: Here comes ALBERT DESALVO and he's heading straight for Sarah!

AD: Time to choke me a bitch!

StJS: Choke on this, bitch...

Styles: It's the WITTY COMEBACK KICK! Albert goes down in a heap! It looks like Sarah, Luke Warm and Hardcore JJ are teaming up to eliminate all the competition!

douja: Huh? But what abou' douja? Huh?

StJS: Oh, that's right, we forgot about douja...

*TRIPLE KICK!*

douja: Cracka-ass bitch! (falls over)

Styles: These three are unstoppable! Who can stop them? Can anyone stop them? Stop not stopping them, someone!

Voice-Over: Weeeeeelllll... it's the WIG..

Styles: STONECUTTER!

Voice-Over: (slowing down) Shhhhooooowwww....

Styles: If even the Wig Show can't stop them, who can? We need a MONSTER!

SW: And here comes one now! It's Frankensteins Monster!

NH: No, that's SASQUATCH, Scotty!

SW: He's already been elimintaed!

SH: The OTHER Sasquatch, Scotty... from the Dungeon of Dumb?

SW: What other Saquatch? There's only one of them on the Roster! I'm so frickin' lost here! My brain is offically melting, and there's still... (riffle of pages) SEVENTY wrestlers still to come in?

SH: Whoa again. That speed-reading course really paid off, huh Scotty?

Styles: Sasquatch has at least made it to the ringside area without getting STONECUT! He slaps a bearhhug on Luke Warm! THAT'S HIS MOVE! His only move. This could get dull rather quickly.

NH: And this isn't going to help... KHAN HANDI is on his way to whatever's left of the ring! His moveset isn't much better.

SH: We got a run-in. Someone's going after..

William Shatner: KHHHHAAAANNNNNNNNN!

[One chokeslamming later.]

William Shatner: OWWWWWWWW!

NH: Khan picks up Hardcore JJ... looks like a Chokeslam from out of the rafters. Only there's no rafters anymore. Khan's so confused he's frozen in mid-move. JJ twists, gets a grip... EXTREME HARDCORE DROP!

SH: CANDY CANTELOUPES is inbound... not surprising really, what with there being exactly 69 wrestlers still to go. SIR HUNGALOT is right behind her.

Styles: We're about to get HARDCORE! IGPAY ATINOLAY EATHAY runs in as well! It's about to get ARDCOREHAY!

SW: And there's XXXTREME MACHINE! It's going to get SUCKcore. I can NOT put up with this guy so late in the day. And there's still 65 guys to go? Fuck this! Coma, I don't care that the Main Eventers are about to start showing up! I don't care that this is a Pay-Per-View! Do something NOW to speed this up, or I will never, EVER speak to you again!

Coma: Well fine, Mr Hitchcock! You ASKED for this. Send in the FORNICATING NUNS!

[A cheap visual effect wobbles across the screen. Abrubtly, we're in a field. All 200 current and former BOB-sters are there. (Yeah, I said 200! Or close enough as makes no odds, anyway. Prove me wrong. I dare you.) There's everyone from Trey Vincent to D-Van Drudley to Lord Lestat von Sexbat to Mr. Paradox. Except for Neige Thirteen. Of course. They're dressed like a variety of woodland creatures, except Coma, who has dressed like a wedge of fresh camembert instead. Fireworks go off behind them as huge kick-line breaks out. A-one, a-two, a-three...]

All: (singing) HOORAY FOR COMA'S BRAIN!
He wrote the show and proved that he's insane!
The card is long and incoherant,
But grin and bear it,
Y'knowwww...

'Cause Coma wrote it with his teddy bear!
And he'll only write one show, this year!
Be nice if we could end the show,
'Cause we gotta go,

And...

*THUD! THUD!*

[In case you were wondering, that was Ken and Insano plummeting to the ground. They're both gripping a single parachute that failed to deploy. Insano stands up unsteadily.]

IM: ¿Cualquier persona tiene una aspirina?

Death: *TOUCH OF DEATH!*

IM: ¡Es solamente una carne-herida!

*THUD!*

Styles: KEN WINS! KEN WINS! OH MY GOD!

[Wobbly visual effect. We fade to the set of BOB CLASSIX. Coma and Hallucination Boy are present, sitting with their feet up on the desk, a huge pile of comic books between them. Hallucination Boy is staing off into space as Coma attempts to read "Little Lulu" with his nose. HB suddenly blinks twice and twitches.]

HB: Wow! I just had the BEST hallucination of my life!

Coma: Poink?

HB: Well, it started with the two of us and Seth doing a CLASSIX, but then it turned into Poinkamania 2! And you got to book it, Coma!

Coma: Gleep? And was the Tinman and Lasie there too?

HB: Well, no. But you were there! And I was there. And so was Mark and Mike and the Masked Announcer! And Danny Bonaduce was there, too!

[Cut to Kay Fabe and Lesbina.]

KF: Hang on, does this mean you're nothing but a figment of Hallucination Boys' imagination?

[One thorough French-kissing later.]

KF: Well, you feel real enough to me.

[Cut back to the CLASSIX set. Seth Harker has wandered in.]

SH: So, was it any good?

HB: Well, it started okay. But then the Main Event really started to suck. Y'know, like the early 2001 Monday Morning Mayhems did. It's too bad I didn't see who won. I just hope it didn't turn into a screwjob.

Coma: (winks at camera) Poink.

[Cut to a dumpster. Mark Shill and Mike Monroe are inside, sharing a bottle of Thunderbird.]

MS: It's the GREATEST BLOW-OFF IN BOB'S HISTORY!

MM: Goodnight, everybody!


©2005 BOB Wrestling. Hey, let's see YOU try to write a match with 200 participants, smartarse!

 

© BOB Wrestling!

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