Back in the gatdamn saddle
~~~Phoenix, Az. It’s hot already and it’s only April. It’s gonna get hotter. And so is BOB. It’s gonna get hotter ’cause the iAd is full strength once again. Don’t believe me, read….. er, watch SMC 18. Speaking of hot, Connie Lingus just walked into view… wearing just enough clothing to cover her fun buttons and “runway” trimmed snappy whisker biscuit. The Cindy Crawford, Angie Everhart, Tara Reid, and some other chick I forgot et all looking broad approaches Steve Studnuts who is sitting on a long, black leather sectional flipping through the channels of his SUPER WIDE PLASMA SCREEN. Steve’s casual today, wearing yellow silk boxers and some flip flops. The AYOOYFM/YGBCIADT lay beside him in a heap. Connie questions Steve’s antics as we join in~~~
Connie: Can I start now?
Studs: Didn’t you read the fuckin’ set-up? I know most people don’t but at least the people IN it should. Take it away, honey.
Connie: Steve, what are you doing?
Studs: Funny you should ask…
Connie: Are you going to tell me?
Studs: Are you fixin’ my turkey pot pie, bitch?
Connie: Umm, no…
Studs: Then… SHUDDAP, BITCH! Go fix me a turkey pot pie! HA! Judd Nelson as John Bender, the coolest mother fucker on the planet. Besides me, Trey, and Seth, of course. Anyway, don’t go anywhere, Connie… I was just fuckin’ around. I need some help here.
Connie: You know, Steve… I wish you’d stop calling me a bitch. It’s degrading, like I’m nothing more than an object for sex and cooking.
[Steve just stares at her]
Connie: Uhhhh, okay, what do you need me for then?
Studs: I need you to tell me why I’m not the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS? I mean, didn’t Carolina win that shit? I just know I pulled Carolina in the lottery.
Connie: No Steve, I think you had Arizona. Something about the “home state thing”.
Studs: Nah, they fuckin’ choked. I’d never choke like that.
Connie: Maybe it was Kentucky then, I remember you saying you wanted them because if you changed some letters around they’d be Komfuckme. And that was perfect for you or something.
Studs: Nope. You must’ve been hearing things. I had Carolina. I know it. But that’s cool, if this shit hole promotion wants to hang the strap on Sarah or whomever she’s facin’… so be it. They ain’t done a thing right since I got here, why start now?
Connie: Isn’t she wrestling that Zeno guy?
Studs: How the fuck should I know? I don’t read the whole card, I just skim until I see iAd shit, then what I did, then I get my lazy writer off his ass so I can comment about it, then I go to a club, pick up a chick I don’t give a rat’s ass about, and then I…
Connie: What? You do what?
Studs: Ummmm, nothin’. Talk about wrestling. Shit like that, you know.
Connie: Sure. Anyway, why do you care about that title in the first place? You have one.
Studs: THIS? [holds up the AYOOYFM/YGBCIADT belt, then throws it back on the sectional] This is a fuckin’ joke. NOBODY wants this title, except maybe that Ken guy or that fuckin’ Mexican. Do you believe this belt is SO pathetic it actually had to cut promos? They couldn’t do anything with it or get anybody towear it, it had to fuckin’ WRESTLE matches. Nobody wants this thing…. it’s a handout. It’s a pity belt. It’s a title they put on guys that can’t hold the big one. And I can HOLD THE BIG ONE, ya dig? Do it everytime I piss.
[Connie sarcastically rolls her eyes]
Studs: Seriously, do you think Sarah is gonna make any money for this place? She couldn’t draw a dime unless she was on a corner. And Zeno? That fucker couldn’t make money if he inked it himself.
Connie: Steve, they are gifted entertainers… I’m sure the promotion thinks they could do good for….
Studs: ARE YOU SMOKIN’ CRACK? Do you know this Big Boss guy? He’s the IRS wet dream! If they ever catch that fuckin’ dude and get him to pay what he owes, nobody else in the fuckin’ country would ever have to pay taxes again. Including myself, which is really all I care about in the first place. That guy does the dumbest things, he’s ran this place into the ground. This fed makes no money at all, and then he’s goin’ to do something like this, and put the title on either one of them? Then expect me to compete in hardcore matches? It’s stupid. I ain’t gonna do it, which it why I need your help.
Connie: I thought my help was remember what March Sadness team you had.
Studs: No, stupid. I intend on befriending some slacker that doesn’t know anything about this place and give him the belt as a gesture of good faith. You know, make him think I’m I swell guy and all. Then watch him get the shit beat outta him in one of Ken’s exploding tacks on a stick matches or Mano’s Mexican Food The Day After Death Matches and laugh my ass off. I’m too good for shit like that, I need to be the man. Not some hardcore champion…. unless they let me rename it the harddick champion. Every chick knows I won’t have a problem defending that title.
Connie: (yawns) Whatever, Steve. What help can I be?
Studs: Well, I’ve been flippin’ though the channels, checkin’ out cats from other promotions as well as this one. Bottom rungers that would never win a title even if they’d wrestle them fuckin’ selves for it. Check ‘em out, and help me pick one I can give this title to, or else I’ll just have to suck it up and keep the gatdamn thing myself.
Connie: Steve, this is a pretty mean thing to do to a new guy.
Studs: You really think I give a shit? Now shut up and look at this first one.
[Steve turns on the TiVo. There's a he-she conducting an interview]
On the screen: NEEP! Do you really want to hurt me? POINK! Do you really want to make me cry?
Studs: Fuck yeah, I wanna hurt you and make you cry, you son of a bitch. Take this title and you’ll hurt and cry every night. What do you think, Connie?
Connie: Is that?
Studs: I dunno. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I don’t care. You think it’ll take the belt?
Connie: I doubt it, he looks pretty frail, and needing a hit. What else do you have?
[hits play again. There's a very skinny man on screen dressed in leather pants and a trenchcoat. He's holding a large semi automatic assault rifle]
Man on screen: I AM AH-NOLD SWIZZLESTICKAH! IF YOU HEAR-AH THAT I’M COMIN’, IT’S NOT A RU-MAH! YOU BETTA GET DOWH-N! YOU GOTTA GET DOWH-N! ARG! I’LL BE BACK!
Connie: Oh my God, you gotta be kidding me. That guy it like a buck ‘o five including his gimmick and his rifle…
Studs: Shit! This guy is great! Oh wait, look at this one.
[He flips the channel, then hits play. It's a dryer.]
Dryer: Hum! Clank Clank! Hum!
Studs: Uh, oh… somebody left change in their pocket. Heh. What do you think?
Connie: A dryer? That’s stupid.
Studs: Well? They have a gatdamn washin’ machine here! Why not?
Connie: Anything else?
Studs: How about I just give it to Death? He wouldn’t be afraid to get into any kind of match. I mean, he is Death, after all. I dunno, maybe I’ll just keep it. But I ain’t juicin’ all the fuckin’ time. Nah, fuck that. I don’t want to end up havin’ the Dusty or Abdullah forehead. Scars and shit all over the place. I bet Dusty went through about 18,000 blades by himself, and Abdullah was at the point he could probably just hold his breath real hard like he was takin’ a giant dump and his noggin’ would just bust open from that. I don’t wanna be like that. Hell no…
Connie: Steve, this isn’t about you not wanting to be hardcore or thinking Sarah shouldn’t win that main title. You wouldn’t have helped Sarah’s friend, Kay, if you didn’t think…. hey, wait a minute. I know what you’re doing…
Studs: Hold up, I know what you’re thinkin’. But it’s cool, I ain’t like that. Sarah’s gay. She’s lez, she munches the carpet… I ain’t tryin’ to hook up….
Connie: NO! Kay Fabe’s the lesbian. I think Sarah is straight and you’re trying to get in her pants. That’s what this whole thing is about. You think she’s going to win, and you know you can’t get a shot at that OWTTM while you have a different one. You’re trying to get into the main title picture so you can grope and fondle her in the ring, and try to get her bed with you aren’t you? That’s why you helped Kay Fabe, you think Sarah will owe you one, right?
Studs: No.
Connie: You’re trying to…. ooooh, I know what you’re doing!
Studs: Look, I don’t know who I saved at SMC 18, that was like three days ago when I read that shit and I didn’t bother to look at it again for this bit. I thought I saved Kay, hell, I dunno… it was one of those bitches, they all look the same to me. All I want to do it get rid of this hardcore title and put it on some dumbass who doesn’t know any better. Get the title that I deserve… the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. You act like every other girl I see, I want to fuck ‘em.
[Connie just stares at Steve like he did at her earlier]
Studs: Well, it doesn’t mean I actually do…
[Connie continues to stare]
Studs: Not all the time…
[Connie continues to stare, starts tapping her foot and crosses her arms]
Studs: You really think that?
[Connie lets out a huge sigh]
Studs: Really? You think that I try to play hide the sausage with all of ‘em?
Connie: Yep.
Studs: I’m hurt. Really I am. [fakes a sniffle] I can’t believe you’d think that… and I really can’t believe my lazy ass writer has dragged this promo out so long. He must be off work today. I’m sure there’s some things around his shitty house he could be doing…. isn’t that right, loser?
~~~Yes, you are correct, Steve. Say something quick so I can end this thing.~~~
Studs: Why don’t you just cut to static like you normally do when you run out of things to type?
[It's Dr. Azathoth's roommate, Farmer Brown!]
Farmer Reb Brown: A dryer? Uh-uh, no sir ree bob, you iAd boys already done run off wit’ mah washing machine, and that’s enough. Luckily I had mah old washboard from my jug band days, but there ain’t no way I’m gonna start pinning clothes to a laundry line. It rains all the damn time down here. Insert yer own damn folksy analogy about how much it rains; I’m too darned steamed ta think of anything good right now.
That’s right, you boys get anywhere near my dryer an’ I’ll show you the buisness end of my aught six, I tell you what. I’ll probably go all Deliverence or Texas Chainsaw Masacre on your asses, too. I haven’t actually seen either movie, but I sure will rent ‘em if I have to. you know I’ll do it; I got netflix.
…
Oh, wait, I got one! How ’bout it rains more here then it does under babe the blue ox after he’s… uh, had a lot of beer. Sheeyit, you think it’s so easy to talk like a folksy redneck I’d like to see you try it.