SUM: OYHD
[Scene? What's that?]
Anyhow, your Vice President In Charge of Everything has been reviewing the doins a transpirin’ here in the Rant Zone. It had been in my thinking for a Paradox/Studnuts re-match to happen at Send Us Money On Your Hard Drive.
But plans can, and usually do, change around here.
So, here’s the way it’s gonna go. Depending on who leaves the Mini-March Mayhem Sunday Morning Chloroform with the YGBKIADTAYOOYFM Title Belt, we will have a title match of BIG TIME proportions.
As of right now, the Booker Man says this.
Hardcore Title Match.
Steve Studnuts will be in it.
Dr. Thrilla will be in it.
Mr. Paradox will be in it.
Now the question is…will anybody else be in it?
I’ve talked to the BigBOSS, and he has OK’d for BOB to get something we’ve had in storage for a couple of years now.
A steel cage!
Not that huge fence triple-decker dealie we got on clearance sale from WCW. No. We’re talking big ugly orange bars, people.
That’s right, we’re giving our old-school cage a fresh paint job. It’s gonna be Rage In The Ugly Orange Cage! Exclusively on Send Us Money: On Your Hard Drive!
So if Studnuts loses that belt during Mini-March Mayhem, we will add a fourth person at OYHD. I’m all about fair play. I may add Seth Harker to the mix if I feel like it, just so things don’t get too one-sided in favor of Dimension Z.
I’ll keep you updated, boys, after we see who the victors are in March Mayhem.
This is the least predictable division in BOB. Remember, it’s the 16/6 rule. That belt could change hands 50 times before then.
That is all monkeys. Stay tuned…
~~~Steve’s at a titty bar in Phoenix, watchin’ BOB (yes, BOB plays in titty bars in Phoenix around 2 am) Steve, while at aforementioned titty bar in Phoenix, has to brush away a red-headed hottie from his Phoenis, (who’s working a little too hard for that dollar to go in her garter,) long enough to cut this quickie promo before he takes this chick home and, well….you know~~~
Studs: A cage match? Sweet.
But let me ask you a question, Booker Man… where does this leave Muhammad Ali and the 10 billion hut squatters in Manilla that’s expectin’ the biggest thing that’s EVER hit their miserable little third world shithole? What about them?
Granted, they probably won’t have any money to buy tickets down there to see me mop their fuckin’ dirt floors with these jerkweeds, but hey… I’m sure they can make some sneakers or some t-shirts or somethin’. Maybe some pottery, I dunno. Perhaps some envelopes. Everbody knows Manilla makes the BEST envelopes! Ya dig?
Big Boss can use some sweatshop goods, right?
Besides, I’ve already called Ali and he’s all jacked up about returnin’ to Manilla, the site of one his greatest victories some 30 years ago. Hell, I’ve already planned to tour the place with him and garner SUPER UNIMAGINABLE HOMEFIELD ADVANTAGE! You fucked everythin’ up….
The people of Manilla LOVE me! They’re already on the bandwagon, you see?… VANILLA GORILLA shirts are sellin’ like fuckin’ hotcakes down there. Well, if they even eat hotcakes down there. Whatever they really love to eat down there, that’s what my shirts are sellin’ like. Yeah. I can let you in on some of that action. Big Boss, you listenin’?
[Steve throws a hundred dollars on the table...then looks at the red-head who's just off camera]
Studs: Bring some more titties, honey.
[She leaves to gather some friends]
Studs: Look, I don’t give a flippity flyin’ fuck if it’s a cage match, a streetfight, a dog collar match, a fuckin’ pole match, don’t matter to me if we wrestle on a planet, a bus, a taxi, in the back of a pickup, in douja’s ass where I’ve heard there’s enough room to beat WrestleMania III’s attendance record… I don’t care.
Give me both of those sorry ass nut jugglers, give me Ali, and give me Manilla.
And if you don’t….
IF YOU DON’T!
Well, I guess I’ll take whatever you give me and beat the shit outta them anyways.
And that…. IS A FACT!
*The scene is in Manilla. Mr. Paradox and Dr. Thrilla are making their way towards a hotel, there to enter a specific hotel room, one that the man in the mesh coat learned the number of from a very reliable person. Taking hold of a street sign, Thrilla rips it out of the ground by the roots.*
Mr. Paradox: Remember, we can’t afford to kill the guy.
*Thrilla nods, and they enter the hotel. A few minutes later, a old man’s voice is heard yelling, “The hell!?” before a loud clanging noise fills the night air. A few minutes after that, Thrilla and Paradox leave the hotel, carrying a very large sack.*
Mr. Paradox: “Special ref” this, Smallnuts.
Dr. Thrilla: *metal clanging*
*End scene.*