100 jobbers, no problem
“I’m somewhat disturbed,” said the beautiful redhead.
“What about,” replied the beautiful blonde.
Sarah and Kay are sitting underneath the stars, on the front porch of Sarah’s home in Cloudydale, Conn. As they talk, clouds of breath come from out their mouths. They are both bundled up in large coats. In case you couldn’t figure, it’s kind of chilly out tonight.
“Well, doesn’t it bother you that now there are two women in BOB with the name of Kay Fabe? It’s kinda freakin’ me out, ya know?”
“Two? And what do you mean ‘in’ BOB? Have we even been accepted yet?”
“I think so. Aren’t we filming this for them?”
“I dunno. It’s not your usual format. This is almost kind of like a book set up, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Hell, if people read this long enough, they won’t even know who’s talking. Because we don’t have enough money to buy HMTL.”
“I know Sarah. But still…”
“Look, you and that other Kay Fabe are worlds apart. It’s just a wild coincidence that you would end up in a parody-fed. I can take down ‘Smart’ Mark Green. I can take down all the jobbers in this joint. It’s my job. I am the Slayer.”
“Excuuuuse me,” said the voice of a male. Probably in his teens. Yep. Looks like it. Messy short brown hair. Dopey look on his face. He’s wearing an Ungrateful Dead T-shirt and jeans. And a black trenchcoat. He’s a slack-jawed yokel of some sort. But he sounds kinda normal. “I heard this is where Sarah Michelle Gellar lives.”
Sarah stood up. “Yeah, you found it.”
“Wow! Can I get her autygraph?”
Sarah gives Kay a puzzled look and then returns her gaze to the boy. “You’re looking at her.”
“Uh….no, I don’t think I am. I seen her on the TV and she don’t look like you. I mean, you’re hot and all, but….you ain’t Sarah Michelle Gellar.”
“No kidding. My real name-”
Kay suddenly stands up and puts her hand over Sarah’s mouth.
“That is her real name. It’s just a crazy coincidence, what with the vampire slayer and…whatnot. What are the odds you know? A lot of people have similar names. Like me and this other girl in BOB. We both have the name Kay Fabe. But, see, everyone has differences. Like me, I’m different from the other Kay Fabe in that I’m a hot red-headed lesbian witch who is another of the chosen ones to protect wrestling from breaking down into chaos. I am the guardian of wrestling and I am the guardian of BOB. I protect things from breaking.”
The boy looks confused and scratches at his head. “When isn’t wrestling chaotic? Isn’t that the whole point?”
Kay huffs. She still has her hand over Sarah’s mouth by the way. And her hand is on Sarah’s ass. Just thought you’d like to picture that. Sarah isn’t exactly fighting to get free.
“Well, I can’t tell you that. It’s all kind of hocus pocusy stuff. Wrestling with shadows, and stuff. All I can say is wrestling is reality. Without Kay Fabe, wrestling would be kinda, fake.”
Sarah finally pulls Kay’s hand off her mouth. But she leaves the other hand on her ass. Maybe she just doesn’t know it’s there. “And when it gets too goofy, I take over.”
“So what’s your real name?” the boy asks Sarah again.
“I can’t tell you. Kay Fabe is forbidding it.”
“Sorry,” Kay says shrugging her shoulders.
“Buffy Summers,” Sarah quickly answers, swerving her best friend in the whole world.
“Sarah!”
“What, Kay? Just hit delete. Cut. Backspace.”
“I’m bored and out of material. I’m going away,” the kid says.
He does.
The girls sit back down. Kay manages to stick her hand, palm up, underneath Sarah’s behind as she sits down. Sarah looks at Kay.
“What were we talking about?”
“Kay Fabe, the other one. The one that isn’t me.”
“Oh right, with ‘Smart’ Mark Green. Well, I don’t know what to say. All I can suggest to you is to challenge the boy to a match.”
“Me? Wrestle a boy?”
“C’mon, you’ve seen me kick plenty of jobbers asses. Surely you’ve picked up something through osmosis.”
Suddenly, there is a crash from behind. Out runs Xamfir. He’s got his panflute poised to strike.
“Oh. Hey guys,” Xamfir says, dropping his panflute to his side.
“What’s wrong Xamfir?” Sarah asks, standing up, concerned.
“Come inside.”
They do. They go to a TV set. On it, is Angel.
That’s Kurt Angel.
“Angel?” Sarah says breathlessly.
“Not to step on your toes here, but can we introduce my character sometime soon?” Xamfir asks.
“So, not going to respond to that,” Sarah says pointing at Xamfir without taking her eyes away from the TV.
“Screw you. Hi. My name is Xamfir. Now that you know these other two people, and since they can’t find a way to write me into this, whatever the hell this is, book, promo, RP, whatever you want to call it, I’m just going to introduce myself. I once was a jobber. But unlike so many other jobbers, I had heart. Sure, you can look at me and see the bad moustache, my oddly shaped man breasts and my jiggly love handles, but I’ve got a heart of gold and get my ass kicked better than anyone.”
“No, actually, you’re just a good distraction,” Kay says bluntly. “Like that time, remember the group Ass*crack? The wrestling gay boy band? Remember when they were gang raping you how easy it was for Sarah to kick their asses with their pants down?”
“No. I try to FORGET, things like that.”
“Oh.”
“I can’t believe Angel is here.”
Styles runs into the room. “OH MY GOD!”
The threesome looks to their Commentator. In unison, they ask him what’s wrong. He looks at all of them and takes off his glasses. After a dramatic pause, he tells them his latest discovery.
“BOB is having a battle royal of Armageddon like proportions. 100 jobbers in the same area at the same time! And you can bring a weapon to the ring. It’s Armageddon. OH MY GOD!”
“100 jobbers, huh,” Sarah says cooly. “No problem.”
“But it’s on PAY-PER-VIEW in January! At half-price!”
“Those bastards,” Xamfir says disgusted.
“Like I said,” Sarah says sternly. “NO problem. You tell me who’s in it, I’ll knock every one of them out. Guaranteed.”
“Right, well,” Styles says fumbling with his glasses. He tries to put them on but jabs himself in the eye. “I’ve taken the liberty to call up BOB. I’m trying to get all three of you in the match. As you know, they have no money, so I can’t guarantee you payment.”
“You know I don’t do this for the pay,” Sarah says. “I do it because I am the chosen one. It is my job. Jobbers legs go snap. They bring companies low ratings and buyrates, make fans stare on in apathy and worst of all, give our sport a bad name. I will not rest until we obliterate every jobber in BOB. Styles?”
“Yes Sarah.”
“Get my banana peels….”
“I’ve got my panflute,” Xamfir proudly says.
“And you know I’ll bring my broomstick,” Kay says.
The other three look at her.
“Oh come on, I didn’t mean….not THAT broomstick. It’ll be a brand new one to ride to the ring.”
Eyebrows raise.
“Not ride, ride, You know what I mean….”