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[A brief drumroll.]

Brrt.

[A slightly longer drumroll.]

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....

[A cymbal crash.]

CRASH!

Voice: Oops. Dropped the cymbal. Sorry.

Neeeehhhhhthukkathukkathukabing!

[I'm not really sure what THAT was. Finally, a title fades up.]

THE ACCORDIAN AND STRING MARKETING BOARD PRESENT

[It fades out and is replaced with...]

UN FILM de "HEAD TRAUMA GARCON" COMA

[Fade to]

IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE NATIONAL CHAINSAW JUGGLERS AND UNICYCLE SOCIETY OF SMALLBEER, WASHINGTON

[Fade to]

AND THE BRITISH IRONWRANGLERS CONGLOMERATE

[Fade to]

Traumavision

TRAUMAVISION 1: THE HURTENING!
Your Name Here For A Dollar!

[Fade to]

POINK

[Fade to black]

[Two seconds of static. Black screen with a blinking message.]

"WE HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR, BUT EIGHT-FOOT TALL PINEAPPLES, ARMED WITH MACHETES."
-Teddy Rooselvelt, the LSD Years.

[Two more seconds of static. A blinking message]

PROGRAM STARTS IN THREE SECONDS

[Cut to Coma at a desk. Instant cut back to the blinking message.]

WAIT FOR IT!

[Two seconds pass.]

OKAY, THAT'S CLOSE ENOUGH.

[Cut to Coma at the desk.]

Coma: Good evening and welcome to the stick market report.

[Self-important news bulletin-type music. Lots of brass instruments and kettle drums. And a kazoo.]

Caption: PARAGLIDING TODAY

Coma: Futures in twigs and leaves dipped slightly today, following an outbreak of name-calling on the trading floor. Small shrubberies were somewhat limp, despite crisp trading in mulberry bushes. A small pink sealion was auctioned in the afternoon, fetching bids in excess of twelve thousand million pounds. The seller was said to be disappointed that the reserve was not met, but hopes to do better in the replay with Sunderland next Friday.

Caption: TONIGHT ON TRAUMAVISION, THE WIG SHOW vs. THE DRUDLEY BOYZ

Coma: Meanwhile in Happyfluffyland, Klondike the Rainbow Otter danced with Porridgebritches the Gnome under the shade of the spreading flubnut tree. Sadly, Ronnie the Homicidal Dwarf had just received delivery of his brand new "Evil Bastard-o-Matic" chaingun, and the results were too tragic to describe. So here's a photo instead.

[Cut to a midget in a blood-stained pointy hat with bells on, smiling proudly. Two seconds of static.]

Stand-up Comedian: So like, spoons. What's up with that?

Heckler: You eat with them?

Stand-Up Comedian: Uh. yeah. Good point.

[Two seconds of static. Coma again.]

Coma: Good evening.

Caption: THE JOHN TESH PERVERSION HOUR

Coma: Hit me with your rythym brick. Hit me. Hit me.

Caption: ALSO 2NYT, A SRH TH JOBA SLYA INTRVEW

Caption: CPTONS R TEH SUK

Caption: XXXTRME MAHCIEN R00LZ

Coma: FLAMING DEATH!

[Brief pause]

Caption: OW

Coma: Prepare to ski-gargle, there's nougat in my underdrawers! Inciteful? I should coco! EROTIC? YES!

[Two seconds of static. Five seconds of big-toe-wrestling. Two seconds of static. A maricahi band playing "Walk This Way". Two seconds of static. Coma attempting to play a xylophone with a jackhammer. Two seconds of silence. Cut to black.]

Caption: AND THEY'RE OFF!

[Cut to the ring.]

Voice-Over: WELLLLLLLLlllll... it's the WIG SHOW! Yeah, he's a big, bald schmo tonight!

English-Accented Voice: Good evening, welcome and bum! I'm Sir Alfred Stockholm-Syndrome, along with my broadcast colleagues Lee Ho (cymbal crash) , the Chinese Contortionist of Canton...

Chinese-Accented Voice: Hello!

SAS-S: ...And a small sticky bun called Jeremy.

[Sudden cut to a sticky bun on a plate.]

Jeremy: " "

SAS-S: And we're probably not live from Ulcer, Utah for this tremendously exciting match between the Wig Show and those gosh-darned Drudleys. The Wig Show is in the ring now, and he's looking quite impressive, wouldn't you say, Lee-Ho-(cymbal crash)?

Le-Ho-Chang: Yes, indeed. You've struck my nail right on the head, ancient man.

SAS-S: And here come the Drudleys now. I can see Rubba Ray is carrying a microphone, so I expect perhaps there might be a spot of the old smack-talking, eh what?

Jeremy: " "

SAS-S: An excellent point, old man.

Rubba Ray: D'VAN! GET THE TABLE!

Clunk!

Rubba Ray: D'VAN! GET THE TABLECLOTH!

Fwoosh.

Rubba Ray: D'VAN! GET THE SECOND-BEST CUTLERY AND THE SMALL VASE OF FLOWERS!

D'Van: Slavedriver.

[Whipcrack]

D'van: OW! All right, all right! (mutter, mutter)

Rubba Ray: Wig Show! You were supposed to face the Drudleys! You signed the contract! We signed the contract! We all saw the contract! Then Coma ate the contract! But that contract didn't say WHICH Drudleys you had to face. Or for that matter how MANY Drudleys you had to face. Or, what color shoes you had to wear, or how long you had to tapdance for after the match, or how long you had to listen to me say "contract" repeatedly. And so...

[Two seconds of static. Cut to a distinguished politician.]

Politician: Nipples.

[Two seconds of static. Seth Harker on a skateboard.]

SH: This gimmick didn't work for Shane Douglas, and it's never going to work for me.

[Two seconds of static. Cut back to the ring.]

Rubba Ray: ...Here's your opponents! The Lesser-Known Members of the Drudley Family! MELON FARMER DRUDLEY! "TEN-PIN" DRUDLEY! OL' GRANPAPPY DRUDLEY! GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-UNCLE DRUDLEY! L'IL SPORK DRUDLEY! And BILLY-RAY DRUDLEY!

[Generic banjo music plays as the dregs of the Drudley Family make their way out to ringside. In order of appearance, they appear to be a dirty man in bib-overalls carrying a watermelon, a walking beergut holding a 12-pound bowling ball, a re-animated mummy from a Hammer Horror film, an undertaker carrying a wreath that reads 'G-G-G-U Drudley, 1887-1942", a ten-year-old with a bandolier loaded with cutlery and a bad country-and-western singer. Like there's such a thing as a GOOD country-and-western singer.]

SAS-S: Well, this is a stunning surprise! I'm so speechless I'll probably spend ten minutes describing just how speechless this shocking twist has made me! I can't find words to describe it!

Jeremy: " "

SAS-S: You took the words right out of my mouth, Jeremy! Can the Wig Show defeat all of these darn Drudleys? There's so much at stake in this TITANIC GRUDGE MATCH!

Lee-Ho-Chan: Yes! The match is grudgeful, indeed. Much grudge for the Wig Perfomance, since Drudley Man stole his car-parking space ten minutes before show today..

SAS-S: Yes, it's been a violent and bloody feud! The Generic Ref calls for the bell.

GR: BELL! Bell, come home! BELL!

*dingdingding*

GR: What's that, bell? Coma's in the well again?

[Cut to a static picture of a well.]

Comas' Voice: (Distant and echo-y) Poink!

[Two seconds of static. Cut to black.]

Flashing Caption: DO NOT PUSH THIS BUTTON ======> 0

[I wonder why not?]

*click*

Flashing Caption: OH GREAT, WHO DID THAT?

500

499

498

[Two seconds of static. 50's Movietone News footage of the Hindenburg disatser.]

SAS-S'sVoice: The Wig Show is in trouble! He can't fight off this onslaught! He's going down! This is a disaster! Oh, the humanity!

Lee-Ho-Chang: WAIT! Wig Person is fighting the back!

[Stock footage of the 1933 King Kong wrestling a T-Rex.]

SAS-S: You're right! He's got a mammoth bear-hug on Billy-Ray Drudley! Billy-Ray is pleading for the Wig Show not to break his ribs.. his achey, and indeed, breaky ribs! But the Wig Show is relentless! Li'l Spork Drudley attacks with a cake fork, trying to break the hold!

[Stock footage of Stan Laurel getting slapped around by Oliver Hardy.]

SAS-S: It's not working! Billy-Ray submits! His brief time in the spotlight is over! Ol' Pappy Drudley is in the ring!

[Stock footage of a gymnasts' floor routine from the 1976 Olympics.]

Jeremy: " !"

SAS-S: What remarkable skills for a man of his advanced age! The Wig Show looks stunned!

Lee-Ho-Chang: Man of many years wise beyond his age.

[Cut to the Fire Chief.]

FC: Humph. Culturally insenstive stereotype anger Great Buffalo Spirit. And Great Pumpkin, too.

[Two seconds of static.]

470

469

468

[Two seconds of static. A brief (and un-paid-for) shot of Shawn Michaels throwing a Superkick, only the footage is in reverse.]

SAS-S: SHOWSTARTER!

[Cut to black. Brief pause. Finally, a title fades up.]

THE ACCORDIAN AND STRING MARKETING BOARD PRESENT

[It fades out and is replaced with...]

UN FILM de "HEAD TRAUMA GARCON" COMA

SAS-S'sVoice: But he missed it!

[Two seconds of static.]

TV: Nah, I got nothing. Are you taping this? Turn the camera off, pal.

[Two seconds of static. Cut to scratched and faded footage of a farmyard, circa 1956.]

Jaunty Voice-Over: Every summer, Johhny and Sally spent two weeks on Uncle Bob's dairy farm! They loved the clean, fresh air of the countryside, the healthy and wholesome food Aunt June cooked for them, and the constant feeling of superiority they took away with them for knowing that they were the only members of their family who possesed an indoor toilet. Last year, Uncle Bob had showed them how the cows produced milk. This year, they would learn where steak came from!]

BANG

Cow: MOOOOOO!

THUD!

*Twin off-screen shrieks*

[Two seconds of static. Cut to a group of nerds sitting around a table strewn with books and dice.]

SAS-S'sVoice: Wig Show with a kick...

[A nerd rolls an oddly-shaped dice.]

Nerd (Star Wars T-Shirt Variety) : Nuts, a seven.

SAS-S'sVoice: He missed! Melon Farmer Drudley swings a roundhouse right!

Nerd (Thick eyeglasses school Chess Club variety) Aw, a three! My dice is cursed!

SAS-S'sVoice: But Wig Show blocks!

Wig Show: Yippie-kai-ay, Melon Farmer!

SAS-S'sVoice: Chokeslam coming up! Can he do it?

Nerd (Overweight Dragonball-Z Shirt-Wearer variety) TWENTY! Critical hit!

SMASH!

Lee-Ho-Chang: Where that table come from?

[Two seconds of static.]

401

400

399

[Two seconds of static.]

BigB: Look, I don't care if it's logical, so long as it's funny. And comes in under budget. Mainly that it comes in under budget.

[Two seconds of static. Faded stock footage of a bowler making a seven-ten split.]

SAS-S'sVoice: Low-blow on Ten-Pin Drudley! The referee was tied up with Rubba Ray and missed it!

[Cut to Rubba Ray and the Generic Ref, bound, gagged and bent over a sawhorse in a grungy basement.]

Voice: Bring out the Gimp.

[Cut to BILL]

BILL: But I'm not scheduled to be on this show!

SAS-S'sVoice: 1! 2! 3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10! A Ten-Pin! He's gone!

[Cut to an obese 30-year-old man at a sci-fi convention.]

Obese 30-year-old: Walter Koenig signed my boobs!

[Two seconds of static. Black-and-white footage of people watching tennis.]

SAS-S'sVoice: A left, a right, a left.... DROP SHOT! Put a spork in him, he's done! It's just Great-Great-Great-Uncle Drudely to beat! Can the Wig Show beat the odds!

[Two seconds of static. 1970's-era footage of Las Vegas.]

Mr Paradox's Voice: Well, it's an interesting concept, but I'll wait for the Neislen ratings before I decide.

[Gardening show footage, tinted orange.]

doujas' voice: Whoa. Thass some trippy shit, dogg. Who's hungry?

[Two seconds of static]

340

339

338

[Two seconds of static. Handycam footage from the BigBOSS'es office.]

Little Good: Okay, one more time, mate. (Talking-to-small-child voice) Little is to Big as Good is to...?

BigB: Umm.. OH! NOW I get it!

LG: About time. Bloody Brain of Britain, you are...

[Stock footage of surfers from a '60s surfsploitation film.]

SAS-S'sVoice: Spirited resistance from Great-Great-Great-Uncle Drudely! He may have died over sixty years ago, but he's not letting that stop him!

Wig Show: ARRRGGHHHHHHGHHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHchokeslam.

SAS-S: It's the ARRRGGHHHHHHGHHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHchokeslam! It must be over!

Lee-Ho-Chang: Why?

SAS-S: Because my script has no more pages after this! Yes, there's the three-count! What a battle!

[Cut to Civil War Re-enactors marching. A nearby cannon emits a puff of smoke, before a flag reading "BOOM" shoots out the muzzle and unfurls. Two seconds of static. The same cannon. A flag pops out of the muzzle. It's blank.]

Civil War Re-eanctor: Damn. Misfire.

[Stock footage of Flipper making squeeky noises.]

Caption: I ATE YOUR ANGELFISH. SORRY. AND SOME STUPID KID FELL DOWN THE WELL.

[Cut to the static picture of the well again.]

Bubbly Voice: Helllp!

[Two seconds of static]

258

257

PRESS BUTTON TO STOP COUNTDOWN ========> 0

[The hell with that. I want to see what happens.]

256

254

SERIOUSLY, PRESS BUTTON TO STOP COUNTDOWN ========> 0

253

[Two seconds of static. Cut to Coma in a talkshow set. With farm animals. And pinatas. Go fig.]

Coma: Good evening.

[Dramatic news program music, extra kettledrums, hold the kazoo.]

Caption: DAILY LESBIANISM WITH PETER O'TOOLE

SIMULCAST IN CANADIAN, EH?

Coma: Welcome to "Press the Meat"! I'm your host-being, Gagnar the Invincible. My first guest tonight, a plate of Jumbo Shrimp.

[Stock shot of a Dennys appetizer.]

Coma: ANSWER THE QUESTION!

[Stock shot of a seafood platter.]

Coma: Don't think you can hide behind your cronies, Mr. Leprechaun! Do you deny plying that wilderbeast with alcohol?

[Stock shot of an empty plate with traces of breadcrumbs and smears of Thousand Island dressing.]

Coma: Thank you for your time.

[Two seconds of static. Scotty Whatbody with his feet up on a desk.]

SW: This is never going to work.

[Stock footage of failed biplanes crashing and test rockets exploding on the launchpad, backed with John Phillip Sousa music. Cut to an Arts Show presenter in a mid-70's-looking set.]

Presenter: Good evening.

[70's wacka-chicka funk.]

70's Funk Singer: What's the bad form of free expression that's a sex machine to all the chicks?

70's Back-up Singer Girls: ART!

70's Funk Singer: Dammmmn right!

Caption: PAN-AM PRESENT "MODERN ARTS"

Caption: IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE PLAID MARKETING COUNCIL

70's Funk Singer: Art's a bad mutha f...

70's Back-up Singer Girls: Shut yo mouth!

70's Funk Singer: I'm just talking 'bout Art!

Presenter: Tonight, on Modern Arts...

Caption: 229... 228... 227...

Presenter: Cubism. Is it the art of the overly-ordered mind, or does it just show that you couldn't work out how to get the lips in the the right place? Also: The Afro-Hindi-Celt-Funk Dance Troupe premiere their new show "What the Hell Beat Were YOU Listening To, Chad?". Our roving reporter Mike McMichealsen Jr. talks to their choreographer "Blind Willie" Singh. But first...

[Two seconds of static. Wobbly black-and-white animation.]

Animated Figure: My spoon's too big!

[Beat]

Animated Figure: My spoons' too big!

[A banana walks on-screen.]

Banana: I am a banana!

[Two seconds of static. Coma at the talkshow set again.]

Coma: Good morning.

[Music, kettledrums, etc.]

Caption: INTERNATIONAL PINBALL, 2ND SEMI-FINAL.

Coma: My next guest is the National Grammer Olympics Adverb Champion. Sarah, good afternoon.

StJS: Did you know you just spelled 'Grammer' wrong? Unless you're talking about Kelsey. Not that anybody would want to talk about him. Although, did you see that horrible sketch comedy show he tried to run on FOX? Just a bunch of random events that made no sense. Would you ever let something like that air on television?

Coma: Not in my backyard, missy! Can you elaborate on WHY the gramaphone was silenced? Inquiring minds want to know!

StJS: Know what I want to know about? Why in the world Tom Cruise would propose to Katie Holmes. I'm way hotter than her. But then again, he is a wacky scientologist. All that cult does is try to make money and put the whammy on all of its followers. So it's like Catholicism, I guess.

Coma: Fascinating.

[Two seconds of static. Stock footage of Zontar, the Thing From Venus emerging jerkily from its' cave. Back to Coma, who's looking off-screen.]

Coma: What the hell are YOU looking at? Sarah, a penny for your thoughts?

StJS: A long life of unfulfillment. I have such bad taste in men.

Coma: Penny, a Sarah for your thoughts?

[Stock footage from an Inspector Gadget cartoon.]

Penny: (Badly dubbed) Poink!

Brains: (Equally badly dubbed) TRAIN!

Coma's Voice: Sarah, my teddy bear tells me he thinks you're hot. (sings) Tell me about it, tell me all the things you feel! (Elvis voice) Uh-huh-huh!

StJS's Voice: I can't ever imagine myself posing nude, but I don't believe in saying never. There might be a time when I get really fat or droopy and pretty much forgotten by my fans, then I might want to pose.

[Cut back to the set. Coma has donned his leather flying helmet and catchers vest.]

Coma: Well, we're out of time, but I fully intend to buy some more for the next show. Sarah, thank you. You may go about your business.

StJS: As your ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, I have this small piece of advice for everybody watching. Some advice that helped me believe in myself and never give up and I credit for making me a successful woman in a male-dominated sport. And it is this. *BLEEP*

[Two seconds of static. A brief clip from a Marx Brothers film. Cut to Hallucination Boy peering intently at his "NGETFA" Tag Team Title Belt.]

HB: Are you eyeballing me, mister? Take that silly smirk off your face!

[Two seconds of static.]

180

179

[Two seconds of static. The BigBOSS'es office.]

BigB: Look, how much damage can he do? Give him a thirty minute time slot.

[Two seconds of static.]

175

174

[Cut back to the BigBOSS.]

BigB: On second thoughts, make it twenty.

[Two seconds of static.]

23

22

21

[Two seconds of static. Coma standing on a large painted bullseye in a carpark. Burst of static.]

16

15

[Burst of static. Coma again, slightly zoomed-in shot .Burst of static.]

12

11

10

[Burst of static. Coma, mid-shot. Burst of static.]

7

6

5

[Burst of static. Extreme close-up of Comas' face.]

Superimposed caption: 4

3

2

1

[Coma belches.]

Coma: Oops. 'Scuse me.

[Static. Fade to black.]

TRAUMAVISION 1: POINK AND PREDJUDICE

Shot on Location in Hyundi, Nebraska
Script: Coma
Additional Dialogue: StreetMime
1st Assistant Director: J. Heimlich Johnson
2nd Assistant Director: Yannios Flemhart
1st Assisting Assistant Director: Nelbert Simpkins
Director Who Assisted the Assisting Assistant Director: El Hombre Wacko
Grip: the Thingee
Best Boy: Kenny the Shrimp
Not-So Best Boy: GooGoo Cachoob
Boy We'd Rather Not Speak Of: XXXtreme Machine
Music by the BBC Radiophonic Workshop
Lighting: Sol
Lunch provided by The Conceptual Diner, Lungfish, Maine.
Silly Voices supplied by the Utah Silly Voice Choir.

Produced and Directed by Coma
A Sub-Divison of AoL
All Rights Reserved.
All Lefts Exempted


© 2005 BOB Wrestling. Watching two seconds of static is still more fun than this weeks Raw.

 

© BOB Wrestling!

Brawlers On a Budget is an online fantasy parody wrestling sports entertainment federation (or e-fed) designed to be somewhat funny.

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