Archive for January, 2008

Fortune Cookie Say…

January 31st, 2008

Trey Vincent

[Open at a Chinese food restaurant. Misty Waters and Trey Vincent are seated at a table in the mostly empty restaurant. Misty breaks a fortune cookie in half.]

MW: Fortune cookie say, “Help, I’m being held prisoner in a Chinese bakery!” What’s yours?

[Trey doesn’t respond.]

Misty Waters

MW: Trey?

TV: Huh? Oh. Right.

[Trey breaks his fortune cookie in half.]

TV: Your present plants are going to succeed? The fuck?

MW: Does that mean SMP’s going to beat you and Kevin the Pyromaniac for the tag titles at Totally Dead?

TV: I don’t know. It wasn’t a capital P. But hey, like Death said, I’m the toughest champion in the game today.

MW: Why does Death keep saying that sort of stuff about you? Because you’re writing his promos?

TV: Probably. But he could actually mean it. Waiter?

Waiter: Yes?

TV: Can I get a Yoohoo?

Waiter: … Yoohoo?

TV: Yeah, the drink.

Waiter: We don’t carry Yoohoo, sir.

TV: What a shock. Nobody does. Thanks. Go away.

[He does.]

TV: Yoohoo. I was watching Rachael Ray the other day. And she showed how you make Yoohoo. It’s really simple. You get a kiddie pool, fill it up with water, and then she strips down, gets in, and takes a giant shit in the pool. Then she mixes it around and tosses in some butter.

MW: What?

TV: Cilantro.

MW: What?

TV: Cloves.

MW: What the hell are you talking about?

TV: Then she rolls around in her own filthy concoction, and then they bottle it.

MW: Trey?

TV: Yes?

MW: That didn’t happen.

TV: Are you sure?

MW: Positive. You must have been dreaming again. She isn’t some hardcore porn cook.

TV: Well, she should be.

MW: You frighten me.

TV: Hey, look! Kevin the Pyromaniac’s here, and he’s doing his impersonation of a Luke Warm rant!

[The camera cuts toward the doorway. It’s empty.]

TV: Bravo! Bravo, Kevin. Luke Warm. You wanted the tag titles, you got your shot. Your bad luck? It’s against BOB Vice President In Charge of Everything. So, unless you happen to get Kevin in the ring, you have NO shot of taking this title from me. You’ve only just begun to feel my booking wrath, boys. You want screwjobs? I got screwjobs. There is no way in Minnesota that I’ll ever give you two a NO DQ, no countout sort of match, so these belts will be mine for a long time.

MW: You shouldn’t take SMP lightly, Trey.

TV: I’m not. I’m taking Luke Warm lightly. When I was dirtying diapers, SMP was becoming the Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer in the game today. When Heidi was doing porn, I was just starting to jerk off to it. When they were in the STWF, I didn’t have an ISP connection.

MW: Your point?

TV: They’re old?

MW: Been done.

TV: How about this. SMP is creatively bankrupt. He’s admitted as much in his promos. And you know what hurts the most? He didn’t ask ME to write his promos. He asked some guy named Leary? What is THAT?

MW: Got me…

TV: Well, Plants. As a matter of fact, since I am a former private investigator and have some friends in law enforcement, I’ve put out a warrant for your brain. I’ve also issue an all points bulletin. So if anybody has seen Plants’s brain, please, call your local police department. Alright, let’s finish this.

[Trey breaks another fortune cookie. This one is green for some reason.]

TV: It’s green because it’s a Trey Vincent fortune cookie. Let’s see here…Trey Vincent say you have no chance of winning the Not Good Enough To Fight Alone Tag Titles. Well, there you go, Sil, Luke. I couldn’t sum it up any better than that fortune cookie just did. So I won’t.

MW: Hey, what about Mr. Paradox and Dr. Thrilla? And did Little Good tell you who Soem Guy–


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Thee awaits Destiny

January 31st, 2008
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The Great

(The Great has assembled his family on their couch like the opening credits of The Simpsons. Everybody is there, even the Mother in Law. They watch Axl’s promo, and during the beginning everything is pretty nonchalant except for The Great’s wife leaving momentarily to plop some waffles into the toaster for Little Johnny and Lori playing with her iPhone and Nick sleeping a bit. Everybody sits there with blank looks on their faces like they’d all been lobotomized until Axl finally gets around to blaming The Great and his family for every meaningful loss in his career. )

“The Great”: This guy has issues.

Nick: HA! He said you had a mustache!

Lori: So? He said you were gay!

Nick: Takes one to know one! Hey, Axl, I’m rubber and you are glue, what you say bounces off me and sticks on you!

Little Johnny: That is so juvenile. Mother, I wanted sugar on my waffles, not syrup.

The Great’s wife: Oh for crying out loud!

Nick: This is so cool! He said my name on television! What till I tell Mark!

“The Great”: The Great has said your name on television, and you’ve been on television. Nobody probably saw it, but nonetheless.

Nick: Yeah, but he’s a stranger!

The Great’s wife: I bet he’s a stranger with candy, picking up boys at recess. How dare he call me a hag!

“The Great”: Yeah.

The Great’s wife: Yeah, what? Aren’t you going to defend me?

“The Great”: Of course. Axl, The Great’s wife does not have a fool head.

The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh whah WHAH whuh.

“The Great”: No, Axl did not blame you for any of his losses, which is interesting, since he seems to have plenty to choose from. The Great, however, cannot relate. The Great cannot associate. For The Great hasn’t a loss, or a reason to validate.

The Great’s wife: Johnny, what did I tell you about creating cybernetic pirates? Go to your room!

Little Johnny: But Mother, I am innocent! What happened to the judiciary process in this imperialistic country? I have never constructed a cybernetic pirate, I’m too busy watching Weird Science numerous times to get the specific lightning storm jigga-watt influx to build my very own Kelly LeBrock.

“The Great”: Okay, enough of this. Axl, although The Great enjoys your elaborate excuse as to why you lose so often, it is not due to The Great’s family. One loss you WILL be able to attach to the Great is the one you will SUFFER from The Great at Totally Dead. The Great accepts your street fight challenge.

You try and blame The Great’s family for your shortcomings when The Great was still a twinkle in professional wrestling’s eye. The Great wonders who Rose blames for your shortcomings? Heredity, perhaps? The Great heard rumors your father was a Vienna Sausage.

The Great’s wife: Nick, go to your room.

Nick: Aww, mah! For what?

The Great’s wife: Daddy’s talking about private parts and sexual innuendo.

Nick: Awwwww, maaaaaaan!

“The Great”: One thing is for sure, Axl. The Great is going to pound your head until your eye sockets bleed. The Great is going to Twist of Great you until your face, drenched in the black and white paint which has become one of your trademarks, even though it’s not truly a trademark since you look like at least two people The Great has seen before. Yeah, The Great is going to Twist of Great you until your face is as flat as the Kansas plains.

Umm, if you smell what The Great’s wife is cooking—— it’s in the microwave.

The Great will grace you at Totally Dead. Then leave you—-totally dead.

(All of sudden, before the camera can totally fade out, The Great’s left eyebrow involuntarily twitches and curls up.)

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D.E.A.D in the S.I.N.

January 31st, 2008
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[A dark screen. Slowly, a white skull comes into focus. Ah, it’s Death, of course. He’s got a towel over his head, instead of his usual hood.]

Death: Kill you once, shame on you. Kill you twice, shame on me. Well, Jim, there’s gonna be plenty of shame at Totally Dead. And I’m not ashamed of shame. I welcome it. But I know you’ve got bigger things on your mind than dying. You’ve told me as much. And now I know your weakness, brutha. SMC 36.

Mike Monroe: Jim shoves Coma into the ring. And now Jim getting back in. Hey, what happened there. Jim just collapsed as he was getting into the ring.

Scotty Whatbody: What a klutz. No wonder Massive Man went solo.

MM: Coma with the cover? One, two, three? Coma just beat Jim. But what happened there?

[Death stands up from the other side of the ring.]

MM: Death just helped Coma win?

Death: That’s what everybody knows about. But let’s get real. How about a little straight talk?

[Death holds up a CD to the camera.]

Death: You see this, brutha? This is what you really want. Your John Cougar Mellancamp CD. I know it’s not really about the title for you. I know it’s not really about the whole me killing you thing. It’s about this *bleep* CD, brutha! And you know what? You can’t have it back! Unless you lay down for me. Because I know, and you know, you can’t afford to replace this with what you’re making in this company.

Death: I am the best champion in the sports entertainment world today, aside from that tough sonofagun Trey Vincent. Randy Orton? Doesn’t matter. Kurt Angle? Doesn’t matter. Nigel McGuiness? Doesn’t matter. I am the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS! Why? Because I’m Death. The BOB ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. Beat me if you can. Livvvvvvvve, if I let you!


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Destiny Await Thee…

January 30th, 2008
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Book of Axl – Chapter 1

“And yay he walked upon a New Horizon… He sought a cup of gold.”
“Yet gold was taken from him, with not a sip to taste.”
“He forged onward… into the Valley of Death…”
“… With eyes set upon only vengeance.”

“A carnival of hollowed eyes.”

“A canopy of delieverance.”

“A sheltered documentary of abysmal radiance.”


[Camera opens in a flash to the eyes of our Holy Father… Axl. His eyes, red… veins… shot, as the roots of a mighty oak.]

[His is not to have had sleep, but to Believe that with boundless time spent upon the task at hand…]

[… there would come a new dawn.]

[Our Savior stares point blank into the camera’s shining lens…]

“Sunday Morning Chloroform.”


“In one day’s time, an impact occured which shake-ethed the entire world of this sport… this sport of king’s… To its very foundation.”

“Not that it had that much going for it… Hell, by then, a decent match occuring on live television shocked the holy living be-jeezus out of people, but that’s beside the point…”

“But to it’s foundation it shake-ethed anyway. And who shook-ethed thou cloven trou? Who, with one swing of thy be-jinkered guitar, and with a whip-snap crash did he usher in the beginninings of a new day?”






“I DID. I, and I alone, made the most impact upon his debut in the entire illustriously illustrious historical history of time and span of what which is known thine as BoB.”

“Everyone and anyone that has began their trek before OR after my monumentolous introductification has PALED IN COMPARISON… to my splendor.”

“My gloriousinitalness.”




“And yet.”

“And yet, ever since the very BEGINNING, the VERY beginning, THE very beginning… There has been one man.”

“One unholy, unrighteouss, unclean, unkempt, unWORTHY individual…”

“That has known within his heart of hearts…”

“That if-in-eth one man, should become-eth an immortal… And if-in-eth he would to walk-eth through the Gates of Light… and IF-IN-ETH he and he alone extend-eth his palm and felteded upon the rich texture of the Cup of The Most Powerful Gold on High… AND IF-IN-ETH… and this is a BIG if-in-eth… The cup were to accept him as the one and only TRUE master…”

“Then there would be no choice for that man… that wretched waste of human flesh… Not the guy with the ‘if-in-eths’ and whatnot, but the other guy… but to bow out… and hand his throne to he that deserve-eth it.”

“There is one man that has placed obstacle… after obstacle… after OBSTACLE in mine path.”

“My first match. SMC 34. I lost. And any man, and any woman, and any child, and any inanimate object with even HALF a brain… except for perhaps the inanimate object… would KNOW that a GOD does NOT lose his first match.”

“He does the opposite.”

“Which is… WIN it.”

“But DID I win? No. … And you would have known that, had you’d been paying attention. Dumbass.”

“And it continued.”

“Swiss Army Title. Living in Sin. Your Savior faced a man by the name of Mr. Paradox. And was SCREWED. Indeed, I walked away with the title. And at first glance you COULD say that, twas Paradox who twas screwed.”

“But you’d be wrong.”

“For you see, that event should have been my night. It should have been my night to prove to the fans… the world… myself… to prove that I was no ordinary, run-of-the-mill wrestling “superstar”. I was a SuperNOVA. I should have had the chance to prove that I could defeat that snivling toad with both hands, both feet, and an ear tied behind my back. But did I receive that chance?”


“Instead, the fans were left with the impression that some… PIRATE… named Xamfar… Xamfor? Regardless of his name, he was displayed there-ah-lee upon-eth these wretched morsels of filth and decadence which that call-eth themselves FANS… He was perceived by THEM to be the deciding factor in my obtaining the Swiss Army Title.”

“It shouldn’t have been… but there it was. As plain as day, as clear as crystal, as… smooth… as silk. Fuck, that doesn’t work… you get the picture. It happened. And once ah-gayn, it continued…”

ComeBack’s a Bitch… two matches, one night. I not only had to participate in the first ever “The Faster and More Furious, The Better” competition, but it twas I, with just cause, saddled with a Swiss Army Title defense. And when I say WITH just cause, I mean the only reason I was given when I searched for an answer to such idiotic booking, was – ‘Just cause.’ Bumble-headed FOOLS!”

“Yes, the ‘TFMFB’ competition… with a shot at the OWTTM on the line. And even THOUGH-ALY I had a shot at the OWTTM already, I DESERVED two. Everyone needs a warm-up. Even Gods.”

“But some punk kid named Corvon the Arachnophobiac or Steven the Nymphomaniac or some gobbledy-gookish garbage such as that stripped it away from me.”

“And then?”


“In the cruelest twist of fate, a hand of cards dealt down upon-eth me in rave resucitation, I had the Swiss Army Belt STOLEN away from me…”

“By Death.”

[The camera zooms out just a scoch, now finding the entirety of Axl’s face… drenched in the black and white paint which has become one of his trademarks.]

“Death… you believe, in that thick skull of yours, that you can evade me for ever?”

“You began something that night. Something that will forever fester upon me as a scar about mine flesh…”

“You STOLE my Swiss Army Title… and then, after I won the OWTTM at Mano e Zeno… just when I thought my destiny… the PROPHECY had been fulfilled? You swept it all away from beneath my feet…”

[… Uhm, actually Axl, it was XXTreme Machine that pinned you for the OWTTM…]


[But it’s in the record books…]

“Lalalalalalalalalalalala -”

[Ugh… I can’t believe I suck up to this guy so damn much for so little pay…]

“So yes Death, you’ve ripped my dreams apart time and again. But yet you… you are not the One.”

“For it continued.”

“At Massively Cool, I was in a tag match. And I was stuck with the Loseriest Boobie Loser in the Game that’s a Loser and Loses Alot Cuz He’s a Loserly Loser, Silliputti M. Putz. And on the opposite side of the ring? Nurse Heiney… and Death. But it wasn’t Death who screwed me over this time, oh-ho-HO no… Not even Nurse Heineken. Twas the pontificatingly hazardonious SMB that which had done-eth me the dirty deed.”

“He was in on it. Mr. Paradox? He too was in on it. As was his fellow sinners in Dimension E D C G P V T hamburger . Henry the Polkamaniac? In on it. And of course Big Deathy DROOL was in on it…”

“But were any of them the TRUE enemy?”


[The camera begins to zoom out ever so slowly, as Axl continues speaking…]

“People of this forsaken world of deflangulicousness… There is but one TRUE enemy.”

“One man that has caused me suffering for over one whole YEAR.”

“Today… I stand before you a bloodied… broken man.”

“But NOT a beaten man.”

“And I stand here… upon rich sand… palm trees in the distance… ocean as far as thy eye can see…”

“For I stand here… broken… bloody… but I stand here as a man with the one thing that HE does not have.”

“Something he wants.”

“Something I have.”

[The camera continues to zoom out. Until…]

“… A reservation at a Hawaiian hotel, BITCH!”

[The camera now fully gathers the view… the sand is littered with trash. The ocean… awash with pollution. The trees… dead.]

[And the hotel… well, really, it’s a motel. In fact, it’s perhaps THE most crappiest, run-down, hell hole of an establishment on the entire island. But nevertheless… it IS Hawaii. … Sorta.]

[Axl, bedecked in flapping, black trenchcoat and customary poser kit, is looking solemnly into the camera… almost through it… His hair partly covers his right eye, which is the style for all good little goth posers.]

“Yes, THE GREAT… I’m right here, smack dab in the middle of the very same place your hag of a wife is bitching her fool head off about. She’s missing this… the splendor… the luxury. And who could blame her, I mean, this place is totally GORGEOUS, babe. [looks around him] … Well, ok, so it’s not entirely THE hottest spot on the isle, but hey, it’s better than anything YOU could afford! And while Jim, Joe, Prophet, Pigeon, Pete, Steve, raYne, Tony, Viruz, and my lovely Rose all enjoy this resort, soaking it up until Totally Dead rolls around, you’ll be back at home… sitting on your ass. Tapping away at a PS2 controller, and hoping upon hopes that you learn SOMETHING, ANYTHING that will save your soul from the unbridled fury of a hundred hounds of hell. Or atleast a poodle or two. A schnauzer, maybe. A schnauzer from hell. …”

“But Great… I want you to know. I want you to know… you can’t keep a secret from me. And you can’t hide the TRUTH from the world forever.”

“It’s time it all came out. Because Great… I do know the Truth. And the Truth is, …”

“YOU were behind it.”

“2007… the year that should have been mine… that should have belonged to ME. It was ruined… and it was ruined by one man and one man alone.”


“Don’t you dare even think for a second you can slip the Truth behind these blood-shot eyes. Because Great, it all makes sense. The puzzle just fits together like pieces to a jig-saw… uh… puzzle.”

“You tried to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. You tried to skew everyone’s vision. But mine? My vision is 20/20. And I saw it from day one.”

“From day one, SOMEONE was wrangling together each and every one of the obstacles… the hazards that stood in the center of the road of my journey to the destination of my GLORY.”

“The Drunken Irish Fags.”

“They never Truly existed. In reality, they were Lori and Nick in disguise. Lori didn’t mind playing a gay guy. Nick… surprisingly didn’t either.”

“So when they eliminated me from the Swiss Army #1 Seed Battle Royale on SMC34? Truth is, I didn’t REALLY lose my first match.”

“Lori just scared the holy living fuck out of me with her femstache, so I had no choice but to eliminate myself. Simple as.”


“Pretty simple. Little Johnny, brilliant mastermind that he is, built a cybernetic pirate, taped a stuffed parrot on his shoulder, and programmed bits of Xamfyr’s mind into the robot’s A.I. using old BoB Betamax Discs. He then sent this pirate, robot, Xamfer hybrid out to SCREW ME LIKE A DOG! A WHIMPERING, COWERING DOG, WITH A TUBE-SOCK FOR A TAIL! Damn Johnny… The little bastard.”

“You replaced Bruce the Kleptomaniac with one of those Mexican midgets from Smackdown’s ‘Juniors’ Division. You know, that way he wouldn’t job. You ORCHESTRATED the swerve by Sillicone M. Potent, to have him leave me in the middle of my tag match against Nurse Hymen and Death. Because let’s face it. Without you bribing him with like, a week’s supply of mayonnaise, there’s honestly no chance in HELL he’d leave a mega-star, such as myself, high and dry. And I’m talkin’ the real GOOD mayonnaise. High dollar stuff.”

“Because, Great? He knows better… and so do you.”

“But the one person who doesn’t know better? Death. And I know… I just KNOW, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s been your inside man all along. The man that, while you “supposedly” weren’t a part of this company, he was putting the pawns in place… shifting the gears into motion… turning the key, starting the ignition, revving up the motor… and other phrases synonymous with ‘kicking things off’.”

“And when you first appeared on that building? The Rooftop Rumble, November in Nowhere?”

“You two had been planning it for MONTHS.”

“Picking your spot… and when you had me aligned right where you wanted me?”


“Trigger pulled. Statement… made. And buddy boy… you made your statement.”

“You told me, withought speaking a word, that you thought, somewhere in that orangutan-brained head of yours, that somehow you were better than me. And that if you could get an Original like Death on your side, then maybe, just maybe, you might just stand a chance of taking that strap.”

“You’d take me out of contention.”

“You’d save Death from the human onslaught that IS Axl.”

“You’d get your measly little title shot.”

“But then… you’d face the inevitable.”

“You’d screw it to holy living hell, no matter if I interfered or not.”

“And in the end, the only man that’d come out on top?”

“… Would be Death.”

“But Great… I knew better.”

“While you and Death spent over 12 months plotting and planning and conniving, it only took me one month to put MY plan into motion.”

“For you see, dear sweet Great, I have done something… which you could never anticipate.”
“Something that shall seal your fate. Something that, once you’ve realized it’s True scope, you shall hate.”
“Something in which you have already taken the bait. And babe… it’s just too… damn… late.”
“Right out of the gate, you’ve already been served your plate, and all that’s left to do is wait.”

“Already set in stone IS the date… but in addition to the match, something else I shall integrate.”

“Something… eeeviiil.”

“Great… why do you honestly believe I took on the role of referee in your match?”

“Do you think I HONESTLY wanted to screw you?”

“HA! Don’t make me laugh. Great, I couldn’t care LESS whether you are, or aren’t the champion.”

“For that matter, I couldn’t care less if Death, SMP, or hell, Billy f’n Pollar held the belt.”

“Because, jack? No matter who holds the title, if I wanted to, I could take it. It’s only a matter of when, not a question of who. Or even how, where, why, or what.”

“The sole reason I did what I did at New Horizon is thus;

I want to fight you.

I not only want to fight you, but I want to BEAT you.

Into the ground.

Around the ring.

Into the rafters.

Up and down the aisles.


In the streets.

To Hawaii…

To Nowhere…

To Kalamazoo, and all the way back to Sin City.”

“Great… as Me as my witness, at Totally Dead, I SHALL finally… FINALLY… have my vengeance.”

“And I want it in a no-holds-barred, anywhere-falls, no-disqualifications, Sin City STREETFIGHT.”

“For one year… One whole year. I’ve allowed you to get away with practically murder. I’ve allowed for you to creep along, just so you could ‘make your mark’.”

“But Great… you chose the wrong man to use as an example.”

“I am… no man’s example.”

“I Am… the TRUE Future of ‘Brawlers’, no matter how hard you practice on ‘Know Your Role’ and ‘Shut Your Mouth’.”

“And I AM…”

“… The only thing Truly ‘Great’ left in this industry.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

~ Follow me… There’s not that much else to do around here. ~

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Twilight Zone

January 29th, 2008
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Jerri Li

[We open to the sound of chains rattling against each other and electrical sparks squirting from a furnace. Jerri Li is stood so that the sparks hit her back as she rubs chili powder into her eyes. The fluorescent light above casts a blue glow over the room. Pink flowers and barbie dolls tied together with razor wire are scattered about the floor as though it were some sort of spell. A man covered in crocodile clips is lying on a table. His voice is dampened by a leather mask.]

Jerri: This is making me cry like a baby.

[She pinches her nose and tries to squeeze burning water out of her eyes. She looks up at a painting of rows of bodies lying asleep.]

Man: Bring it on!

[Jerri moves over to the man and pulls his mask off. She lifts a cheerleader uniform from out of a soggy cardboard box.]

Jerri: Put this on.

Man: Then what are you going to do to me?

Jerri: Don’t get too excited, you can go paint the outside of my house. Then maybe… maybe I’ll stick splinters in your eyelids.

[The man puts on the stolen green uniform and dances out of the room, willing to do anything. Jerri begins to stare into the fire.]

Jerri: God I hope I get my first match soon, these men are so fucking wimpy.

[She puts on a pair of white sunglasses and goes to throw furniture at the man as he works.]

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Back home.

January 27th, 2008
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The Great

(There’s a scene of a blue sky. A plane flies across the sky left to right.

Subtitle: St. Louis. The Great’s home.

A two story house, lavishly bombarded with streamers and balloons and a giant banner that has “WELCOME HOME, CHAMP” on it.

A cab pulls up, The Great gets out and grabs his luggage, looks at the house and sighs heavily. He walks in.)

A group of people as The Great opens the door: SURPRISE! CONGRATULATIONS!

“The Great”: Yeah. Hee. Umm, The Great was not successful. The Great wishes you didn’t decorate.

The Great’s Wife: What?! You didn’t win?

“The Great”: No, The Great did not win. Apparently, The Devil wears Prada, but his wife doesn’t.

The Great’s Wife: WHAT?! You tried to bribe the boss with MY shoes?! I’m getting more!

“The Great”: The Great assumed you would.

Nick: Dad, you got flocked over!


(She begins smacking him on the head.)

Nick: AWW! What’d I do, Mah, what’d I do?!

The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh whuh whah whah WHAH!

“The Great”: The Great couldn’t have said it better. The Great indeed got screwed without the common courtesy of a reach around.

Lori: EWWW!

Little Johnny: Father, I will find Death, and disintegrate his bones to ash with a new cosmic deatomizer vise gripped glove application I’ve been working on.

“The Great”: No, son. That is not necessary. And don’t you have a poster to color for Kindergarten this weekend? You better start on that.

Little Johnny: Curses!

The Great’s wife: Why don’t you want Johnny to disintegrate Death? Didn’t he cheat you?

“The Great”: No, Death fought valiantly. Death even threw The Great for a loop and learned more than three moves. Death was on his game. Death was not the reason The Great didn’t win the title. But, the good news is, The Great is still undefeated.

The Great’s wife: Oh, for crying out loud! We can’t go to Hawaii on undefeated! What did WWE say?

“The Great”: They laughed at The Great. And on the way out of the building, Matt Stryker called The Great a jobber. MATT STRYKER! It was the most embarrassing moment in The Great’s life, except for that one time Lori walked downstairs saw us doing it in front of the fireplace when she was six.

Lori: Umm, NASTY! I’m going to my room!

The Mother in Law: Whah whah WHUH whah whah whuh—–whahwhuhwhah.

“The Great”: If it wasn’t Death’s fault, then whose was it? Very good question. The answer is simple. Axl.

The Great’s wife: Who is Axl?

“The Great”: Also a simple question. And the answer is— a man getting ready to spend what little time he has left on earth in excruciating pain. Axl, what you did, The Great will not tolerate. Your actions— infuriate The Great. The Great will RETALIATE.

And you, The Great will—- exterminate!

(From upstairs)

Lori: MOM! Little Johnny’s in my room talking about mass genocide and nuclear warheads!

The Great’s wife: JOHNNY! Get out of your sister’s room!

Lori: What about the bombs?

The Great’s wife: Oh, for crying out loud! You don’t care about that stuff, you just want him out of your room, right?

Lori: Well, DUH!

The Great’s wife: Get out of there, Johnny!

“The Great”: Please stop the shouting. You’re giving The Great—a headache.

The Great’s wife: Well, all I know is you better pay this Axl character back with an ass whooping of unprecedented proportions. He cost me another trip to Hawaii, he cost me some “I’m the wife of the champ” shopping sprees, and he cost me some celebratory sex!

“The Great”: That’s true. If victorious, The Great had planned on having sex, even with you, and covering your body with so much DNA they could have filmed three episodes of CSI: Miami with it.

The Great’s wife: I hate Axl!

(She stomps away.)

“The Great”: You are not alone in that sentiment. Brawlers on a Budget, The Great wants Axl. Set the date. Totally Dead would be a good place to start, because that will be Axl’s fate, TOTALLY DEAD.

Courtesy of The Great.

(He rips off his shirt!)

“The Great”: Axl, The Great wants you at Totally Dead. Accept. And when you do, then The Great will make plans to annihilate! Let The Great demonstrate.

(The Great walks over to a large cake that has “New OWCTM- The Great” on it, and smashes it to smithereens.)

“The Great”: Axl, that was you.

The Great’s wife: (from another room) WHAT WAS THAT?

“The Great”: Um, the cake fell off the table.

The Great’s wife: Well clean it up for crying out loud!

The Mother in Law: (pointing at The Great) WHAH WHAH! (she walks off)

“The Great”: Axl, you will rue the day you messed with The Great. You tried to get The Great to join your Hierarchy, but The Great said no. The Great is not second rate. The Great cost you the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS at November in Nowhere. And now, you do the same to The Great. The difference is, The Great deserved the title and you didn’t. Now it’s personal.

The Great will grace you soon. Oh yes, very soon.


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Off to Utah—

January 24th, 2008
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The Great

(The Great is packing his gear bag when his wife walks in.)

The Great’s Wife: What are you doing? You’re not leaving me are you?

“The Great”: No, The Great is not leaving you. The Great just got notification that The Great needs to catch a flight to New Horizon where The Great will make history.

The Great’s Wife: Well it’s about damn time! You better go by WWE and get in with them before you go, I set up an appointment. Tell them you’re about to win that title and they need you.

“The Great”: The Great doubts that is a possibility anymore. The Great put out some crappy promos just prior to the event, Nick wrote one of them and it was horrible. The Great probably jinxed The Great’s self.

The Great’s Wife: Oh, for crying out loud! What’d you do THAT for? How are we going to pay for these Glamour Shots I just had Mom go to? Huh? Huh? Do you have an answer for that? You were supposed to win and get lots of money. Now what?

“The Great”: Your Mother had Glamour Shots done? The Great is interested in what magic Glamour Shots could have done with that model. Let The Great see the Glamour Shots.

“The Great’s Wife: I have them right here! Look, isn’t she beautiful? They did a wonderful job.

“The Great”: There doesn’t seem to be any glamour in the Glamour Shots. The Great notices a slight improvement, but she still looks like the gearshift knob in a Plymouth Duster.

The Great’s Wife: You’re an a-hole! Sometimes I hate you so much! How could you say such a thing?

“The Great”: It wasn’t hard. The Great calls ‘em like The Great sees ‘em.

The Great’s Wife: Go to your damn wrestling show! But you better go by WWE like I told you and start making some money at wrestling or you’re done! GO!

(Subtitle: Lambert-St. Louis International Airport. The Great boards a plane.)

(Subtitle: Stamford, Conn. WWE Headquarters. The Great walks in.)

Receptionist: Hello. Do you have an appointment?

“The Great”: Yes. My wife made it.

Receptionist: (snort) Ooooookay. What road agent contacted you?

“The Great”: Huh?

Receptionist: Road agent. You from OVW?

“The Great”: Say huh?

Receptionist: Look, we already had a Eugene. What is your name? Do you know THAT?

“The Great”: The Great.

Receptionist: The Great what?

“The Great”: The Great. That’s it. The Great.

Receptionist: Oh, are you trying to be Dwayne Johnson? What’s your REAL name?

“The Great”: The Great. That is The Great’s name. And The Great works for the Brawlers on a Budget and is about to make professional wrestling history by winning its World Title in The Great’s second match.

Receptionist: The what? Never heard of it. Hey, Raymond, come here!

(A pimply-faced geek in his early 20’s walks up and first indications would suggest he does something with web design for

Receptionist: You ever heard of Brawlers on a Budget?

Raymond: Yeah! That’s place f’n blows! They have a cool website, though. The wrestling sucks, didn’t a title win itself there?

“The Great”: Actually, The Great thinks it won itself on three different occasions.

Receptionist: Get out.

“The Great”: But The Great’s wife will be—-

Receptionist: GET OUT!

(Subtitle: Some airport near Stamford, Conn. The Great boards a plane.)

(Subtitle: Utah. The Great gets off a plane.)

“The Great”: The Great is ready, for whatever fate will await—- The Great. Hopefully, it will be the fate—
that The Great—


The Great will grace you VERY soon, Death!

(Meanwhile, in St. Louis—-)

The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh whah WHAH!

The Great’s Wife: No, Mother—- you do DO NOT look like a gearshift knob!

(Now we fade out—-)

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Hey Nick, come down here!

January 20th, 2008

The Great

(Several hours later, or the time it took to get a moment to do this again, Nick comes down stairs and joins his Dad. (As requested at the end of The Great’s dialogue the other day.))

“The Great”: Well it’s about time! The Great only purchased a two story house, what took so long?

Nick: I had to see the end of Drake and Josh!

“The Great”: The Great really hates that show. Does that one kid still have the lisp?

Nick: Huh?

“The Great”: Never mind. Listen, it’s crunch time. New Horizon is almost here. Ummm—- maybe? Who knows? But it’s close. The Great is not taking any chances. The Great needs one more “putting an ass every 18 inches” promo to prove The Great can run with the title. However, Rent a Rant sucks a fat one and The Great needs your assistance. What are the kids saying these days to trash talk someone? This promo has got to be hip and current.

Nick: Well.

“The Great”: No! The Great needs you to write it down on a sheet of paper and then give the paper to The Great. The Great will then proceed to read your baby fresh, morning dew, new car smelling trash talk for the final push to defeat Death. Hurry, The Great can no longer procrastinate.

Nick: It’s going to take some time.

“The Great”: Fine, The Great will lift weight.

(Minutes later, The Great is wearing his workout gear, several empty pill bottles are laying around and he’s sweaty. Nick runs up to him, hands him a sheet a paper, and scurries away.)

Nick: I’m going to Randy’s!

“The Great”: (to himself and mumbling) Tell Randy The Great enjoys seeing his mommy plant tomatoes in that white halter. The Great would like to can her tomatoes. Or just play with her cans. Or tomatoes.

(The Great realizes he’s in serious jeopardy of a Lorena Bobbitt type situation if his wife sees this, so he quickly gets down to business. He unfolds the note from Nick and starts to read it word for word.)

“The Great”: Death, New Horizon is the Halo 3 of wrestling shows. My Dad is going to kick your butt (my Dad won’t let me say ass). Your—-

((((Editors note: hey, he’s 10, conjunctions are not on his agenda))))

—-all boney . My Dad has muscles that my mom says will make his nuts little. But he has bigger muscles than you cause you don’t have none. Because your all bones. My Dad says he doesnt care that you had three titles here he’s going to beat the doo doo out your butt. Then he’s going to buy me PS3 and some new Xbox 360 games.

(The Great crumples the letter and his shoulders dejectedly sag.)

“The Great”: So much for a screw job of New World Order proportions. That stuff from Nick should firmly cement The Great into a clean loss. The Great will not feel so bad about possibly not getting the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS after delivering that. The Great feels like Roy Munson right now. The Great had it all and threw it away. The Great has hit an all time low. Could it get any worse for The Great?

(And right on cue, perfectly executed.)


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Final CountDown [4 grate juz-tiz]

January 19th, 2008
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Viruz: The time… is now. Kurt… your end? It’s here. You have nowhere to run… nowhere to hide. You cannot escape the infexion.

Viruz: Resistence is futile…

Viruz: … You have no chance to survive.

~ Make your time. ~







In AD 2101…

… War Beginning.

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January 18th, 2008
Comments Off on BNYTR2M

Trey Vincent

[Scene opens with Trey Vincent wearing a turban, seated behind a desk, dressed up as Cognac The Magnificint…Mangnificnent…Magnivincent? Fuck!]

TV: Fuck! My brain’s on strike, too! And you wonder why the show’s late? I can’t even type! I mean…speak?

Misty Waters

Misty Waters: Hahaha. YES! YES! YES!

[The camera pans back to reveal Misty Waters in a school girl uniform.]

TV: Thank you, Misty McOrgasm.


TV: Is it cold in here, or is it just your nipples?


TV: Wow. This bit is really dated.

MW: Simsalibim. Cognac, by the way, nice job on the subject line. Typing in the security code as your subject. What a way to fight the system.

TV: Whatever. In my hand, I have three hermetically sealed envelopes. They provide the questions, but I will provide the answers, psychically, that will no doubt hilariously rip to shreds my foes at MEGABRAWL!

MW: Uh, Trey? MEGABRAWL was last month. Remember? The one where Michelle got Pigeon dropped.

TV: Oh, right. Good times!

MW: You sure you’re a psychic?

TV: Cognac needs a drink! And a place to warm my fingers. Misty, spread your legs.

MW: Hiyo!

TV: May your brain go on strike so you’re forced into recycling old Howard Stern bits based on Johnny Carson bits.

MW: Simsalibim.

TV: Alright. Let’s get to this. I don’t have much time.

[Trey holds an envelope to his head and closes his eyes.]

TV: A clown, Coma, and Misty McOrgasm.

MW: A clown, Coma, and Misty McOrgasm.

TV: Is there an echo in here?



TV: Name a Doink, a guy I will annihilate at New Horizon whose catchphrase is Poink, and a chick I really want to boink.

MW: Is this bit supposed to be funny?

TV: That depends on your definition of funny…

MW: Right.


[Trey holds an envelope to his head and closes his eyes.]

TV: The iAd. Something long and hard. And Pete Trable defeating Trey Vincent at New Horizon.

MW: Wow, that’s long.

TV: Stop looking at Cognac’s Magnivincent bulge and do your job.

MW: I meant the answer.

TV: The answer? Right. Is it so hard to cut and paste?

MW: Just keepin’ it fake. *Sigh* The iAd. Something long and hard. And Pete Trable defeating Trey Vincent at New Horizon.



TV: Name a stable, a table, and a fable.

MW: Huh?

TV: Cognac is drunk!

MW: I wish I was. I’ve never heard of a “long and hard” table.

TV: I’m sure you’ve heard of something else that’s long and hard. And if not, come under the desk and I’ll show you.


TV: The Yugo. The Pinto. And XXXtreme Machine.

MW: The Yugo. The Pinto. And XXXtreme Machine.



TV: Name three worthless machines!

MW: HIYO! Hahaha! YES! YES! YES!

TV: Cognac must go…to the bar! See you all…in hell. Order New Horizon, bitches!

[Trey trips and falls. Fade.]

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