3 promos for the length of 1
Urine’s promo: “Long Promo (Extended Version)”
[Graveyard.]
U: U suck!
[Dark.]
Little Good’s promo: “Bugger This”
Little Good stares at the dark TV screen.
“Bloody hell, you’ve got to be quite mad. Bugger this.”
Death’s promo: “Killing Is My Business”
A bony hand scratches on a door. One unlucky soul is about to answer the door.
Little Good?
“Death, mate. Why you here?”
“What does ‘bugger this’ mean? You’re not giving up on the team are you?”
“Did you see Urine’s promo? He blew it. He pissed all over our chances.”
“Did he?”
“He did.”
“Maybe he just needs some inspiration.”
Hospital now.
An elderly woman, maybe in her 60s, 70s or 80s, is alone in a room. It’s night. Her family no doubt left cuz visiting hours are done. Or maybe she’s just too smelly, how should I know? This is third person detached after all. Make up your own reason damnit!
OK now. The woman pulls a blanket up to her chin. She looks toward her closed door and then grabs the remote control. She flips on the TV and raises her legs up so her knees bend the blanket over the lower half of her body like a tent. She begins flipping until she finds a local news channel. Must be around 11 p.m. Ya think? Oh, she flips it off.
A-ha! Now she’s got it. Public Access Channel 1. “Wrestling Guys,” a talk show about efed stuff. Oops, typo, fed stuff. What’s an efed?
Guy: “Next up, the where are they now file. Who is tonight’s profile? You’ll find out after the break. But here’s a hint. He hasn’t been wrestling for about three or four months. All his promos took place in the same place, usually in his leather couch, surrounded by two beautiful women. Ya dig? A look back at his great career after this.”
“Oh, yeah. God I’ve missed him,” the woman says from her bed.
She pulls the remote under the blanket and watches a PSA on why assisted suicide is a good thing. Er, bad thing. Suddenly, her body begins to move in a way anybody who’s seen a chick doing herself would recognize.
“Oh, Steve,” she moans out. “I’m ready for you!”
Suddenly, a chill fills the room as the remote fills a certian spot of her body. She stops gyrating to the memory of “Steve” and looks at the door, which is now open. A tall figure stands there.
Death!
Death approaches the woman, who stares, eyes wide in horror. Death raises a bony finger and puts it to the woman’s head.
Aneurysm.
Dead.
The woman’s lifeless body falls limp.
“What was she,” Little Good says as he walks from behind Death. He pulls the blanket up. Once he sees, he quickly drops the blanket. “She’s got a remote control in her twat! How’s that going to be explained?”
Death shrugs. “It’s not the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Right, well, let’s go get Urine ready, OK?”
Little Good looks up at the tele and sees the wrestling show. After watching it for a couple seconds, he begins to feel a little uncomfortable. He runs after Death.
The funeral.
Everyone weeps for the dead woman. Since the ground is frozen, she ain’t gonna be buried just yet.
The funeral home.
Urine breaks a window. He crawls through and finds the casket. He opens it. He sees the woman, just laying there. Coming on to him.
“O quit beggin me baby. I here you askin for it. Its comin.”
He unzips his fly.
Suddenly, the door opens and there stands a man with a gun. The funeral director!
“Run 2 the 4est!” Urine screams.
The funeral director runs to the forest.
As Urine turns around, he slides off the casket and falls head first to the floor. He’s unconscious. The floor is urinated on.
Later.
Urine wakes up.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
He’s not alone. A man with long brown hair and a beard, dressed in all white, and shoeless, stands before him. Kinda like how Raven stands. But it ain’t Raven, since he’s have NO place in a BOB promo.
“How r u, guy?” Urine asks.
“Yea. Verily, verily I say unto you, leave this body alone. This sheep will not be defiled by thou.”
“Fuk you man.”
The man with the beard turns his cheek.
Urine leaves.
“Now Urine’s pist. Hes gonna kick some ass.”
Somewhere, Death smiled.
And Little Good dreamed of pinning Sarah “The Jobber Slayer.”