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Traumavision 3

[A black screen]

ComaSarah "The Jobber Slayer"XamfirKay Fabe

Stuffy English Voice-Over: Previously, on "Coma, the Jobber Slayer".

[A fifteen-second montage of previously-screened bits from Sarahs' promos and Comas matches. Each clip is less than a second long and cut together in a near-subliminal manner. The soundtrack sounds like this.]


[Warning: People prone to epilepsy shouldn't watch the opening of Traumavison 3. And this warning should have screened before the previous screen. But I don't care. God, I'm such a great heel.]

Sarah entered the room, balancing a large bowl of buttered popcorn on top of a stack of greasy pizza boxes.

"Oh, hi Coma! How did the patrolling go?" she said.

Coma smiled confidently and replied...

"Well, the goldfish were a bit snippy, but the Yugoslavian spoonbender made my toes all fuzzy! Neep."

"Wow. I really hope one day I can be as good a slayer as you, Coma..." Xamfir said admiringly.

"You need the miracle power of Gleem-o-plex! Makes you immortal AND softens your hands!" Coma responded.

Sarah smiled at Xamfir as Coma fell over backwards.

"He's amazing. Remember that time he beat the First, the Third, The Four-and-a-Half and BOTH the Ninths?" she said.

Kays' brow creased in puzzlement, somehow managing to make her even cuter than usual.

"When was that again?"

"You remember, baby," Lesbina replied, snuggling into an over-stuffed beanbag and cuddling up against Kay. "Right after he used that rocket launcher to blow up Judge Wapner, saved three kittens and worked out the square root of minus one."

"Oh," Kay said, an even more confused expression crossing her face. "Say, how come you're back, Lesbina? Weren't you a hallucination?"

"You didn't think so last night..."

"Hummina hummina hummina," Xamfir "Uh, I mean, right before Coma beat up the Kindfurchtsam in the hospital basement. Wow, that was exactly one year after I was turned into a human Meerkat at the zoo!"

"This is all mixed up." Kay mumbled to herself.

"And remember the time Coma joined that jobber-infested law firm in New York?"

"Sarah, that wasn't even our show!" Kay blurted.


"Crap, did I just break myself?" Kay Fabe said at last.

[Two seconds of static]




[Newsdesk set. Coma in a grey suit, ski-mask and stick-on antenna.]

Coma: Good evening. Tonight...

[Two seconds of static]

Peter Fonda: We wanna get loaded! And we wanna have a good time!

[Two seconds of static]

Coma: Well said. And here is the financial news.

[Stock photo of a baboon, with important-sounding news-break music.]

Coma: Ecudorian Minister for Finance and Jellied Preserves, Jose McTavish was optimistic about long-term styrofoam packing peanut exports this week. The market has been weak recently, but a strict regime of protein shakes and weight-training, coupled with a sensible diet and some light sparring, has seen it firm up considerably. When questioned about the booming anabolic steroid market, Mr McTavish set fire to two reporters and declared the press-conference closed.

[Two seconds of static]

John Wayne: Reach for the sky, pilgrim!

Hallucination Boy

[Cut to Hallucination Boy, in a third-grade Thanksgiving pagent.]

HB: I'm trying, but it's too high!

[Two seconds of static]

Coma: In football news, the Wyoming Electric Light Orchestras today signed John Tesh to a five-year contract, replacing retiring Prancing Back Alex "Up Yours" Trebeck. Coach Wayne Newton is said to be "well chuffed".

[Two seconds of static. Picture of a brain.]

Voice-Over: This is your brain.

[Picture of an egg.]

Voice-Over: This is an egg.


Voice-Over: This is your brain, on a egg.

[Blank Screen]

Voice-Over: This is your brain at a Michael Bolton concert.

Voice-Over: Any questions?

[Two seconds of static]

Coma: The Third-Annual World Mime-Juggling Championships were held this week in Gunbarrel, Maine, attracting record crowds...

[Still photo of a mammoth stadium. 14 people are visible in the stands.]

Coma: Meanwhile, world "Staring-at-a-Wall" Champion, Felix Whoopsie announced his retirement today. Speaking from his hometown of Scheitzenfucher, Austria...

[Cut to a small Tasmanian man.]

Tasmanian Man: G'day!

[Back to Coma]

Coma: ...Felix cited the pressures of competition, before donning a leather mask and dancing a Highland Fling.

[Two seconds of static]

Caption: PART 2: THE CHA-CHA

[Two seconds of static]

Igpay Atinolay Eathay

Igpay Atinlay Eathay: Ymay ifeway oesn'tday nderstanduay emay...

XXXtreme Machine

XXXtreme Machine: i no wath u mena4 d000d hay batrenda moe bozze dwo n heair

Xamfir: Rough day? You wanna...

[Flicks lighter. Stock footage of an A-Bomb test. Xamfir with comedy-blackened face and sticky-up hair.]

Xamfir: ...tell me about it?

[Two seconds of static. Talk-show set, with extra inflatable sausages and stuffed armadillos.]

Coma: Godzilla evening! Tonight, I'll be dancing the hully-gully while juggling live chickens. But first...

[Black screen]


[Two seconds of static.Purple-tinted Sweedish soft-core porno footage, with sunflowers and smiley-faces superimposed over the naughty bits. Audio from a Trey Vincent promo instaed of the films soundtrack. Cut to stock footage of children doing the Birdy Dance. A brief animation of Hitler dancing in the mountains buck-naked. Two seconds of static.]

Seth HarkerInsano Mano

MV: Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall with a sixty-minute time-limit, but in reality will probably be a brief, confusing mess.

SW: So we're taping this for Traumavision, right?

Coma: Yes indeedy, Mr. Butterfly Head! Squelchy melons? Why thankly...

MV: Introducing first, from a perpetual State of Coolness... Seth Harker!

["Rising Sun" by Bexta. Dense Smoke. White light. Wachowski Mode up the wazoo. Seth, trenchcoat flowing around him like oily liquid. Bad 80's video effect. The colour balance goes out of whack. "Rising Sun" becomes "Bumblebee Tuna" by Mephisapheles. Seths' trenchcoat comes to life and tries to choke him. A parade of piza delivery boys drive down the aisle and try to run over Seth with their scooters, while a troupe of acrobats do cartwheels behind them. Seth's reaction? Zero. Man, he elevates "Cool Detachment" to an artform.]

Coma: Pliny-plonky poink! I small waterbuffalos' butt!

SW: Yeah, the Drudleys were out here doing color commentary on the last match...

MV: And his opponent... from over there, behind the concession stand, past the t-shirt stand and down the hallway... Insano Mano!

[A Mexi-thrash version of "Insano in the Braino" by El Cypresso Colina reverberates around the arena as IM dashes out in a shower of confetti. Cut to the BigBOSS backstage, standing next to an industrial-sized shredder.]

BigB: I KNEW those cancelled checks would come in handy some day.

SW: This can't be a Traumavision! Harker vs. Mano? A man with no fear, no working pain recptors and damn few working braincells versus one of the most risk-taking, balls-to-the-wall, outright fucking showoff poseur cruiserweights in the game! This is going to be great!

Coma: (Direct to camera) He don't know me very well, do he?

[Two seconds of static. 50's racetrack footage.]

English Racetrack Announcer: Coming into line now... Pubic Lice was scratched just before racetime... AND THEY'RE OFF! Captain Kangaroo bounds into an early lead, with Toilet Paper sticking to his heels! 3:30 Express to Brixton is riding the rails, but Claude Rains missed the start badly and is no-where in sight! German Tourist muscles his way to the front now, Explosive Diarrhea is running freely and Mr. Slinky has a spring in his step, and pretty much vice versa! Kevin Costners Career is fading quickly, and Tinkybum Fluffywinkle has been disqualified for having a bloody stupid name...

[Two seconds of static]

Mr. Paradox: Well, if the cat's in the box, it's obviously dead. No question.

Sir Zeno: But what if I drilled holes in the box first?


[Two seconds of static]


SW: And this match is...


SW: ...Almost...


SW: ...UNDER WAY! Collar-and-pair-of-multiply-dislocated-elbow tieup! Harkers getting the better of it... Insano twists.. WHATTA COUNTER! I didn't know Insano Mano was double-jointed!

IM: ¡Ni unos ni otros yo! ¡Mierda santa, de que realmente daños!

SW: Harker looking for leverage...

SH: I have salacious pictures of your girlfriend!

SW: That did it! Harker reverses the hold!

SH: You're right, IM... this really DOES hurt!

[Two seconds of static. 50's racetrack footage.]

Australian Racetrack Announcer: Coming around the turn now, about a thousand meters to run, Marcel Marceau has been pretty quiet up to now, and looks to be boxed in! Barbara Streisand has gotten her nose and front and leads by six or seven lengths, while Failed Porn Star has developed a limp, that's tragic for him! Meanwhile, Freudian Slip is just a huge pair of tits off the leading bunch...

[Two seconds of static]


BigB: A one-hour Traumavision Special? What are you, nuts?

[Burst of static]

BigB: Okay, you talked me into it. Someone call the network!

[Two seconds of static]

SW: Firemans' carry takedown by Seth. He locks in a cross armbreaker and bridges up, hyper-extending Insanos' elbow. Insano rolls into it, flipping clear over Harkers' body... reversal! And may I be the first to say "Boooo-ring!"...

Coma: Squeeble?

SW: Well, come on, dude! It's not 1985! We can't sit around and watch these two fight over a headlock for an hour and a half!

IM: ¿No podemos?

SH: Sure we can... just to piss Scotty off.

SW: SEE?! Headlocks equal boredom! Do something cool, damn you!

[Wachowski Mode. The camera pans around the two, zooming in tight on Seth as he stands perfectly still and maintains the headlock.]

SH: Happy now?

[Two seconds of static]

Caption: LOAD *parodysong,8,1

Flashing Caption: LOADING


[Two seconds of static]

Enthusiactic Voice-Over: LIVE from the Brixton Workingmans' Clubs' Copacabana Room, it's Jimmie Starlight and the Solid Bronze Dancers in a musical tribute to NUTS!

[Tacky and glittery set, with an equally tacky and glittery singer in front of a big band. He sings...]

Jimmy S: Nuts! They are the best!
Can I! Just get that off my chest!
(Spoken) Chestnuts! Get it? Thank you folks, you're a beautiful audience!
(Singing) Say! Have you seen my nuts?
Hanging on a wall... by a door that shuts!
(Spoken) They're walnuts! That's genius!

[A shot rings out, and Jimmy hits the deck like a lead yo-yo. Two seconds of static. Cut to a vauge approximation of the set of Mel Brooks' "Men in Tights". A selection of Merry Men are dancing and singing...]

Merry Men: WE'VE NUTS!
Nuts in our tights!
'Cause rockmelons and pears just don't fit right!
There's nuts! Nuts in our tiiii-ights!
That rattle around each time that we take flight!

There's walllll-nuts and almonds!
And coconuts that sometimes gives us a fright!
(High-pitched) OUCH!

There's nuts! Nuts in our tiiiii-ights!
Don't sue us Mel, we swear we brought the rights!
Don't sue us Mel, we swear we brought the rights!

[Two seconds of static]

Coma: Duck, rabbit, duck! It's moulting season, send in the llamas! Queege!

SW: (Monotone) Headlock. Another fucking headlock. Arm grapevine. Shoot me. Shoot me now...

IM: ¿Piense que lo tienen bastantes?

SH: Si, muchacho. Let's kick it!

SW: Harker... headlock...

[Wachowski Mode. Seth leaps, maintaining the headlock, and runs along the top rope, body horizontal to the mat. He twists in mid-air, executing a barrel-roll over IM's head, switching his grip and delivers a one-handed Stunner!]


Coma: Hold the cornstarch, it's a wiener! Poink!

SW: Seth kips up! Insano Mano sits up groggily...


SW: Nearly gets decapitated by a roundhouse savatte kick! Seth pivots...back-wheel kick to the back of Manos' skull! And another roundhouse kick to the face drops him! Seth to the ropes... Springboard Guillotine Legdrop!

Coma: Sproing!

SW: Exactly! IM kicks out at 2! Harker hefts him up and deposits him to the mat with a hard bodyslam! He leaps to the top rope... Insano kips up! Hard elbowshot to the ribs and Harker is knocked 'nads-first to the turnbuckle! IM climbs to the top with him... headlock... hooks a leg...


SW: FACK! Top-Rope Fishermans Buster! Harker is DEAD, dead I tells ya!

SH: I'm getting better!

[Two seconds of static]

BigBOSS: The editing suite is booked solid for HOW long? This is supposed to be a Christmas Special!

[Burst of static]

Lots of BOB-sters: HAPPY NEW YEAR!

[Burst of static]

BigBOSS: Well, I guess I never said WHICH Christmas it was going to air.

[Two seconds of static]

Lots of BOB-sters: HAPPY NEW YEAR!

[Two seconds of static]

BigBOSS: Fuck, I’m lazy.

[Two seconds of static]

SW: Harker and Insano are both on the floor now, trading right hands! Harker misses! He's spun around by the force of the blow... Insano hooks his arms from behind and jumps up... REVERSE MONKEY FLIP INTO THE RINGPOST! GOOD GOD!

James Brown: Quit stealin' my stuff, white boy!

[Two seconds of static]

BigBOSS: Fuck, he was still alive when I started booking this. I'm REALLY lazy!

[Two seconds of static]

SW: Seth's on the apron... No Remorse coming up!

[As he takes off, Insano whirls around, nearly decapitating Seth with a spinning heel kick!]

SW: WHAT HE SAID! Harker is down! Insano dragging out the Ezy-Break Table! Sets it up in front of the aisle... I don't think he's noticed Seth getting back up!

[Seth shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, then gets a running start before leaping onto the Unusually Solid Railing...]



IM: ¡Ezy-Rompa mi asno blanco brillante!

SW: ...And the table no-sells! Harker fires Insanos' head into the wood! Insano returns the favour! Harker to the ringpost, face-first! BACK SUPLEX!


Coma: Oooh, there's Mr. Tinkywink! Hats off to Horton!

SW: DAMN, that's a strong table! Insano flips up the ring apron.. what's he looking for? OH, YEAH!

Coma: Kool-Aid already? I call lime!


[Cut to GBH at a State Fair in Somerset, Maine.]

GBH: Duh. Yur.

[Two seconds of static]

"Smart" Mark Green: So, you guys wanna take over BOB?

The Pencil Necked Geek: Sure, why not?

The Geek: You mean it's still going?

[Cut to the Shaggy Gang]

Xamfir: So you mean Coma ISN'T the Jobber Slayer? Wow, he must have cast a magic spell or something!

StJS: Or else he's just booking again...

[The Shaggies turn to look at Coma. He's juggling live chickens and dancing the hully-gully.]

All: *sigh*

[Two seconds of static]

SW: Insano Mano has the ladder set up... where's he going? He's climbing the turnbuckle!

[Insano leaps off the buckle and bulldogs the ladder toward Seth. Wachowski Mode. Seth gets up in realtime, walks casually behind the frozen-in-mid-air Insano.]

SH: Welcome to MY world, buddy.


SH: What the hell is up with these tables today?

SW: Seth arranges Insano Manos' carcass on the table to his liking. Leaps to the apron! ASAI MOONSAULT!


SH & IM: OW!

Coma: Johhny Redwood, you're fired! Get me a sponge, and make it a double! HOOHAH!

SW: Seth is setting IM up for a piledrier on the stubbon bastard of a table! No! Good Lord, not a Tiger Driver '91! He'll kill him! Or not, it's Insano after all! And I'm Scotty Whatbody, so why do I care who gets hurt? KILL HIM, HARKER!

[Insano suddenly jerks his head up, reversing the Tiger Driver and flipping Seth over his head. Harker is left dangling, head aimed toward toward the woodwork, feet aimed at the lights. IM holds him there for a few seconds... then sits down. Really fucking hard.]



SW: IT'S THE TIJUANA LOBOTOMY! AND THE TABLE DOES A HOGAN AND REFUSES TO SELL! Insano looks frustrated... and Harker looks semi-concious! Insano collects a chair and scales the turnbuckles!

*multiple camera flashes*



IM: ¡Rómpase, usted pedazo de mierda festering del burro, rotura!

SW: Insano drags Harker off the Jor-el of tables and whips him to the guardrail... reversed! Insano goes in back-first! Harkers going to back suplex him through the table!

[Or is he?]

[Sorry, just being dramatic.]

[OK, now I'm being a prick. Bite me.]

[Fine! Harker suplexes Insano so hard he flips a full 360 degrees in mid-air and goes through the table face-first.]


[Make that INTO the table, face-first. Strong table.]

SW: SHUTTLE LOOP BUSTER! Seth Harker with a nod to his classic match with Taurus in Blood, Sweat and Chairs Wrestling! This is insane! This is great! If one of these guys juices, it'll be the best Traumavision match ever! If it isn't already! Which it is.

Coma: You think you're man enough, Pedro? Take these dalmatian puppies, and smoke 'em! Yoink!

SW: Seth sets Insano up on the table and climbs into the ring... get your cameras ready and get ready to upload the footage to Youtube, he's setting something big up here!

[Seth ricochets off the far ropes and charges back...]


[Wachowski Mode. Zoom to Seth in mid-air. Zoom to the table. Zoom to the "Nev-R-Break" logo on the table. Zoom back to Seth.]

SH: Crap.

[Zoom to The Flunky, holding an inventory sheet.]

TF: Oops. Wrong order code.

[Realtime. Seth hits the table as Insano rolls off, and practically ends up in the third row on the rebound. Insano stumbles around a bit, puts one hand on the table and coughs. It collapses. Cut to stock footage of Coma at a drumkit. He gives a rimshot.]

[Two seconds of static]

StJS: Coma? Coma, can we talk?

Little Good

[Coma contiues to hit Little Good on the knee with a bag of Marshmallow Peeps.]

LG: Cut it out, you wanker!

Coma: Snoink!

[Two seconds of static]

GR: 4!

SW: Slowest countout ever....

GR: 4!

SW: And that explains why. These two suicidal nutballs are duking it out in the fans! Insano hits Seth with a chair! With a fans beer! With a fan! They're heading toward to concession stand!

XM: hay u wnana ottagraf


XM: ow

SW: And that one second of badly-spelled distraction gives Seth the upper hand! He reaches into the Big Box of Heavily Discounted Discontinued Merchandise and SMASHES a Dr. Thrilla Do-It-Yourself-Othodontic Kit on Insano head! Insano gropes blindly for.. ooh, a family-sized pack of Steve's Salted Studnuts! And he's grinding them into Seths' eyes! Thats gotta sting!


SW: What the hell was that?

[Cut to an infomercial announcer.]

IA: THAT was Kay Fabes' "Tongue and Groove" Construction Set (For Kids)! And Insano responds By breaking a "Mr Paradox" Brand Unsolvable Dodecahedron Puzzle on Seths head! Order both and we'll throw in this can of Kevin's PIEmania Filling!


IA: Comes in both Apple AND cherry!


IA: And for just an extra dollar, you'll get this Blackjack Hooligan 20oz Shotglass, as demonstrated by Seth Harker!


IA: Plus, you'll look great in one of these "Coma Get Some" t-shirts!


IA: Need some reading material? How about StreetMimes' Official Autobiography...


IA: ...Pamphlet. And for our valued customers, save twenty dollars when you buy Kamikazie Kens' "Big Box of Thumbtacks, Broken Glass and Rusty Metal Shards"! Recommended for children eight and up!


SW: Insano boots Seth in the stomach... Gutwrench suplex onto the thumbtacks and broken glass! WE GOT BLOOD! WOO-HOO! They 're heading back to the ring... whip to the ropes! Seth ducks the clothesline... DOUBLE-FLYING LEG LARIATS! And the Generic Ref just wasn't fast enough to get out of the way of either of them! I told the tubby bastard to lay off the Fried Chicken and Donut sandwiches! He's out of it! Seth with a knife-edge chop to the chest of Insano! Spins him around with the force of the chop! Straight-jacket back suplex over the top rope! Whoa, baby! Insano ended up right next to the Illegal Mexican Immigrant Announcers Table! I got a bad... and good feeling about this!

[Harker hits the far ropes. Wachowski Mode as he uses the soft, springy body of the unconcious Generic Ref as a launching pad. He takes off, planting one hand on the ringpost, swinging himself around like a suicidal gymnast on the Pommel Horse o' Death...]



SW: Right through the table! It's kindling! That was insane...!

[He fades out]

Skeeter: Hi, this is Steve "Skeeter" Skeet, here, owner and occasional writer of BOB. Okay, very occasional. And this is the commentary for the middle of the match. This section is kind of dull, due to the lying around and the writhing and the over-selling. Uh, my usual commentary partner John Leary couldn't make it today... so Trey Vincent agreed to imitate him. Hi, Leary!

TV: (In a bad Leary imitation) I like tits!

Skeeter: Riiight. Anyway, this card was supposed to be a Traumavision Christmas Special. But, due to the fact that I'm lazy as sin these days, it never got finished in time. Then they disconnected the USB drive I was using at work., forcing me to write the show out longhand. Typically, extra work makes my motivation shrivel damn fast. It's been about 14 months now, and I'm still only planning on finishing in a week or so. Or ten...

TV: I have a small weiner!

Skeeter: Trey, are you going to treat this in any way seriously?

TV: Fuck, no.

[They fade out.]

Coma: Hoo-hah! Smell the fish, Carl! It's minty!

SW: Harker has Insano back in the ring... Sets him up on the top turnbuckle! Superplex coming up!

[Seth instead climbs up to the top with Insano. Perched precariously up there, he hooks IM up and delivers a urunage off the top, down to the floor and directly through a fully loaded picnic table that's inexplicably set up at ringside.]

HB: (in straw boater) Bloody ants!

[Okay, not THAT inexplicable.]

SW: Man, I can't believe the punishment these two are putting each other through! Can this match get any better?

Delivery Man: Hey buddy, can you sign for this? One spikey-metal-embedded, glass-covered, gasoline-soaked table, as ordered.

SW: YES! YES! Where do I sign?

Delivery Man: Right here... great! I'll just set it up over here. Hey, you got a light?

[In the ring, the Generic Referee manages to make it back to his feet. From the crowd is thrown a wadded-up paper cup. It bounces lightly off GR's head. He collapses again.]

SW: He's the only guy in the world with a Glass Skull.


Coma: Ooh, toasty! (sings a few bars of "John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt")

SW: FLAMING GLASS AND RUSTY METAL TABLE! Too bad both Seth and Insano are down! it'll just go to waste...

Kamikazie Ken

["The Ride of the Valkyries" plays. Every eye in the arena rises to the rafters, where Kamikazie Ken is standing, resplendant in his bulls-eye mask and skin-tight Guest Referee's shirt.]

KK; Man, even I'm worried about this one.

SW: Get your cameras ready, folks!


SW: AH! My eyes!

Coma: Hee hee hee… too soon?


KK: You disgust me, you bloodthirsty bastards!

Crowd: YAY!

KK: Fine, whatever. BANZAI!

Coma: Yoinks!

SW: Bombs away! Backflip twisting plancha!


KK: Crap. And incidently, ow!


SW: Missed! What the hell happened?

KK: Look, I’m allowed to blow a spot occasionally. Gimmie a second.

Coma: I’ll give you a watermelon, if you grill my socks for me!

SW: Ken climbs back into the rafters. Running suicide moonsault!




KK: I KNOW! Was that even the right rafter?

SW: Nope! Missed the entire ring that time, buddy.

KK: No, really? *sigh*

IM: (In a faintly detectable whisper) Apresúrese lo para arriba, Ken, nosotros no puede vender este topetón por siempre.

KK: All, right, all right. Third time’s the charm!

SW: Take three… KEN-TON BOMB!


KK: Ha! I still got it!

[Ken passes out in the flaming remains of the table. The Flunky lights a cigar off him, then hoses him down.]

Coma: Crispy critters! Break it down, Emmanuel Lewis, and shake that groove thang!

SW: Hey, how did the Flunky afford cigars? Did we give him a payrise?

TF: Nah, I’m selling Amway on the side. Need any cleaning products, Scotty?

SW: They have cleaning products now?

[Cut to Scotty's apartment. Several of the piles of rotting Hustler magazines are moving.]

Half a Tuna Sandwich: Hey, how ya going?!

[Cut to a barbershop quartet in Buttwrinkle, Iowa.]

Tenor: Shave and a haircut…

Quartet: Twenty-three ninety… plus tax!

[Musical sting. Cut to a salsa-dancing contest in Outer Boondock, New Mexico.]

Organiser: We’re out of taco chips? Damn. Oh well, pour more sour cream on the dance floor and let’s hope no-one notices.

Assistant: Do you think we’re being too literal?

Organiser: Nahh. The tap-dancing contest was probably a mistake, though.

[Cut to a sink]

Voice: Help, I fell in!

[Cut bak to the arena as the crowd groans in unison. Coma takes a bow. Someone throws a tomato at him.]

SW: Man, even I wouldn’t use a joke that old. Back in the ring, Insano Mano is back to his feet! God only knows what we’ll get to see next!

[Skeeter's commentary fades up again.]

Skeeter: So this is the more technical section of the match. Lots of submission holds and reversals, near-falls and a bit where they fight over a wristlock for five minutes.

TV: Sounds dull as hell.

Skeeter: Yeah, pretty much. Shall we just skip to the bit where they fall off the top rope and land on Coma?

TV: Sounds good!

Coma: No it doesn’t!

SW: Sure it does! WHOA!


Coma: Poink! Ooh, me nurgleweezers!

SW: What impact! Coma has been knocked completely Flatline by that one! But incredibly, both Insano and Seth pop right back up!

IM: Pssst. ¡Hey, amigo! ¿No era el quién fue supuesta que ninguno-venda el topetón?

Seth: Probably. Who can remember, I got the script two years ago…

[Bullet time. Seth arches back and launches a superkick. Insano dodges with suspicious ease.]

SW: Insano no-sells the Bullet Time! He’s behind Seth who's still only halfway through his superkick!

Seth: (slow-mo) Ooooooohhhhh , sssshhhiiii...

SW: Insano drags him back… Got him by the arms… RAZORS EDGE! Right into the ringpost! Seth just got folded in two by the impact! Insano reaches under the ring..

IM: Veamos. Escala. Almádena. Familia de inmigrantes ilegales. Barreta Hoffa. Roca grande. Pollo de goma. ¡Amperio hora, hay lo que buscaba!

[Camera zoom to the huge jar of “K-Mart Homebrand Sulphuric Acid” he’s found.]

IM: (reading label) Veamos. No beba. No lance en cara. Compruebe por favor la fecha de vencimiento antes de uso. Puede deteriorar su capacidad de funcionar la maquinaria pesada.

SW: Insanos’ going to the top rope! CORKSCREW ASAHI 630 SPLASH!


IM: ¡Mis ojos!

Seth: (to camera) What, you thought I'd take that bump? With my good looks?

SW: Seth goes for a weapon from underneath the ring! He finds a wooden box of some sort!

[Zoom on the box. insaide is a beautiful vase. The box is marked with a "Merciless Products" logo. Seth flicks the edge of the vase.]


Seth: (to camera) Cute.


Coma: Hollyhocks in bloom, tra-la-la! David Bowies crotch is eyeballing me!

SW: This is insane! Eveyone is a bloody mess!

[Cut to a random Englishman.]

Englishman: You're not bloody wrong!

[Cut to a cucumber.]

[After several seconds of awkward silence, back to the ring.]

SW: Eye-rake from Insano! Powerbomb coming up... NO! Seth lays him out with a flowing DDT! He's going to the top! NIGHTBRINGER MOONSAULT! Insano rolls away! He covers! one! Two! NO! Seth kicks out! Insano sends him to the ropes... leapfrog! Seth catches him! Insano uses his momentum.. reverse victory roll! One! Two! Another kickout!

Coma: Cha-ching!

SW: They're back on their feet! European uppercut from Harker! Knife-edge chop! Short-arm clothesline... NO!

[Inasano hangs on to Seth's arm, swings upwards like a trapeeze artist and somehow manages to kick Seth it the back of the back of the head. In the same movement, he also delivers an...]


[..Armbreak... hey, quit interrupting!]

SW: Insano to the ropes... Lou Thesz Press...

[Or it would have been if Seth hadn't caught him and sent him flying with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex!]

SW: How are these two still getting up?! Seth ducks a tired-looking swing... DARKNESS FALLS! He's got him, surely!

[Bullet Time. Insano flips backwards over Seth, sweetly reversing the Dragon Sleeper/Quarter Nelson combo. As Seth tries to reverse it again, he hefts the cruiserweight up into a vertical suplex position, maintaining the hold perfectly, and...]


[Dramatic pause]

SW: THREE! It's ov...

[Black Screen.]

SW: Shit, did we over-run?

©2007 BOB Wrestling! Yeah, you get one relatively good Traumavision match every five years or so.


© 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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