BOB eWrestling | Rant Zone Archive!

[Kevin is seen finishing a blue vase jigsaw puzzle. There is also a box with a glass of water on a cloth and a scuffed older box with a boat. There is a newspaper nearby as Kevin tries to become craftier for his matches. He scratches his hair and puts on a woolly hat before staring up at the lightbulb.]

Kevin: I broke my record! This crafty screw job stuff is a lot easier than that hardcore nonsense.

[Kevin falls backwards in his chair, knocking the jigsaw and breaking it back into pieces on top of him.]

Referee: 1, 2, 3!

Kevin: God damnit!

Kevin the Pyromaniac rant e-fed, e-wrestling, Kevin the Pyromaniac, parody, wrestling

(The Great and his family are sitting in his living room. The fireplace is glowing with full flaming, store bought “fire log” used to reduce harmful emissions and still provide heat and ambiance. The Great is once again the focal point of “wrestling questions” and whether or not he’s ever going to generate any income from doing so. We join in progress.)

The Mother In Law: Whah whuh whuh whuh whah?

“The Great”: Yes, The Great was victorious at Totally Dead. The Great had some help though that The Great— did appreciate.

Nick: That wigger guy?

The Great’s wife: NICK! Don’t say that word!

Nick: Why? He says the bad one all the time.

The Great’s wife: I don’t care! I will not have you talking like that in my house.

Nick: Can I say, what’s up my trigger?

The Great’s wife: Absolutely not!

Nick: Aww mah!

Little Johnny: So Father, with aforementioned victory, it is abundantly clear that your win/loss record remains unscathed. Correct? Any monetary compensation for such accomplishments? I really need that uranium, a search for discount plutonium proved to be an exercise in futility.

“The Great”: The Great did receive an envelope from the front office that read “Do not open until Christmas.” The Great assumes that it is a check.

The Great’s wife: Well open it for crying out loud! We can go shopping!

“The Great”: It specifically said not to until Christmas.

The Mother in Law: Whah whah whuh—-whuh whuh whuh whah.

“The Great”: No. The Great is not a wussy weak tit. The Great just likes to do what The Great is told.

Lori: Dad, I hope you gave Axl a stiff one for saying I walked around school naked.

“The Great”: Ew, specify “stiff one”.

Lori: A non-worked punch! Come on, you don’t even know the lingo yet? Katie, you know like, my BFF, totally loves John Cena! We go to wwe.com all the time!

“The Great”: You should go to bobwrestling.com all the time.

Lori: Duh, like why? John Cena is not on there.

“The Great”: Well, he kind of is. He might be my new tag-team partner.

Nick: That wigger guy?

The Great’s wife: NICOLAS! One more time and NO Halo 3 for a week, young man!

Nick: What’d I do mah?

“The Great”: Please, this is getting confusing. Lori, The Great knows you didn’t walk around school naked. We would’ve gotten a note or something. You can’t even skip lunch without them calling now-a-days. And no, The Great doesn’t recall catching Axl with non-worked punches, but The Great’s Twist of Great was not a work. The Great seriously tried to break Axl’s nose. The Great, professionally, doesn’t really care too much for Axl and his gang.

Nick: His gang of fags?

The Great’s wife: NICK! Go to your room!

Nick: But they’re gay, mah! And they called me gay! I’m just a kid.

The Great’s wife: Okay, I’m going to let you off the hook this one time. But watch your language, I don’t want you sounding like that Pete Trable person. He’s very vulgar, and I don’t think you teaming with him is a good idea, honey.

“The Great”: It’s a great idea. The Great is going to suggest that Pete call himself The Amazin’. We form a tag-team and call ourselves The Amazin’ Greats. He can reword Amazing Grace and use it for our theme song entrance music. You know, hardcore it up a bit. It could be big box office.

The Mother in Law: WHUH WHUH whah whah whah whah.

“The Great”: The Great is sure Pete could pull it off. It could go something like this:

(singing, rapping? And in an attempt to woo Pete, it’s done to the sounds of Cypress Hill’s “I Ain’t Going Out Like That.”)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1b3uTa2foc

“Let’s kick it, esse.”

It– is –The Great and The Amazin’
You look at us, it’s like you be gazin’—at stars
We raised the bars, can’t touch us we further than Mars.

The Great is super tough, he can’t be beat-en
And when it comes—to—breakfast eatin’
No-bod-y come close to Amazin’
So hardcore he eat bran without the raisin.

Don’t be a dope
Hang yourself with that rope
You wanna beat us, you ain’t got no hope.
Stupid Polly, youcan’thavethiscracker.
Got a long line— waiting for the smackas.

Oh hum!

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure
A better tandem than Pain and Pleasure.
You think you can beat us, must be whack
Step to us, we’ll break your back

We ain’t going out like that.

(Dead silence. I mean nobody is saying a thing. Everybody just stares blankly at The Great.)

“The Great”: What?

(Silence. A pin drops and you can hear it. )

“The Great”: WHAT?

THE GREAT rant Axl, e-fed, e-wrestling, parody, The Great, wrestling, XFactor Pete Trable

Pigeon: Death given by a blade…
Cutting sharply through the pain…
I feel this…
Though I take this, I am insane in the membrane.

Pigeon: Doth truth verily giveth me the four years which hath slain.
I know not what I do,
I see not what I can.
Insane…
Insane in the brain.

Pigeon: Destiny triumph again and again…
Not which is not, but that which has came…
Death still cut sharply… sharply through the pain.
Insane in the membrane…

iNsAnE iN tHe BrAiN…

Pigeon: When I lay on this bed, I look upward toward the light.
I feel the truth surge in…
Blinded by the night -
Beating in mine heart,
Stealing love away from anger.
Tasting it set upon mine tounge,
Lifting me away from danger.

Pigeon: Insane… going insane every day.
Insane… molding me from clay.
Insane… whether I leave or stay.
Insane… death is here today.
Insane… gone so far away.
Insane… Leaving my dismay…
Insane. I do doth wish to slay.
Insane… insane in the brain.

Pigeon: Where one door closes… another soon opens.
Where one window flutters shut… another flutters apart.
Where one glass tis emptied… another glass tis full.
Where one toilet is flushed… another shall be filled with crap.

Pigeon: Crumbling I am… for The End is near…
The foundation crumbles away… The End shall soon be here.
The End is near, mine friends… The End is close at hand.

Pigeon: The End is near…

I AM YOUR END.

Pigeon: Seperate the Truth from lies,
You’ll be left with such a surprise
That will lift you from the deadly demise…
Open your soul, and open your eyes.

Pigeon: So look into your heart, mine friend…
The End is near, I am yon end…
I am the demon which hath been sent…
I shall seek and destroy, again and again.

Pigeon: What about destiny… what about hope.
What about beliefs… what about truth.
What about my calling… what about yours.

Pigeon: What about you…

WHAT ABOUT ME… WHAT ABOUT PIGEON.

- the -

Pigeon rant e-fed, ewrestling, parody, Pigeon, wrestling

[Pete Trable is in his crib. Chillin’ like a mofo, wearing some super baggy jeans, some tan Lugz®, and a Cleveland Cavaliers throwback jersey, the one with the dumb looking basketball rim and ball on it. He also has a baseball cap on, cocked crooked on his head. Pete has informed me that he’s relieved to FINALLY be rid of The Hierarchy. Don’t believe me, just axe him…]

Pete: Yo, now let a nigga straighten out some shit. I bust on the scene in like ‘03 an’ shit, fucked up some crackers an’ then be fo’gotten about by my handler. So then I gets passed around like some 2 dolla’ ho, pimpin’ to any nigga dat want to have me hangin’. Everybody try to make Pete sounds like Pete, knowwhaI’msayin’?

But dat shit don’t work for just a common nigga. Nigga gotta have flow. Nigga gotta have some sense. And a nigga can’t be suckin’ dick.

I had to bounce from Da Hierarchy, yo. You don’t even want to know what’s goin’ on at Axl’s crib. Those niggas are crazy fuckin’ gay. How’d I end up in dat shit? I’m strikin’ on my own, and as fo’ dat nigga dat PMed me about wantin’ to team up? I’ll get back to your ass on dat. I saved your ass from a beatin’, but dat don’t mean a nigga ready to form a tag-team. A nigga gotta clear his head. Axl’s faggy shit done scarred a nigga fo’ life.

Speakin’ of Axl. Nigga, don’t ever write my lines again. You make me sounds like a straight up fag like your gay ass self.

In fact, let me speak on dis…

Click this link, bitch…for some background music an’ shit
Then read along:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvV-upQVoFs

Who ya tryin’ to get crazy wit, Axl… don’t ya know I’m loco?

To da one on da flamboyant lifestyle
I just drop that fag in the CD slam
like WHAM!
it’s done when I come in… cram!
damn, I broke your Vienna ham
you make me wreck shit
hectic next to the chair
got me goin’ like general electric
errr
the lights are blinkin’ I’m thinkin’
it’s all over when go out drinkin’
OH makin’ my mind slow,
that’s why I lika fuck with the big four-oh
bro, I got ta’ maintain
cuz a nigga like me is goin; insane

chorus:
insane is the Pete Train
insane is the Train!
insane is the Pete Train
insane is the Train!
insane is Pete Train
crazy insane, got no brain!
insane is the Pete Train
insane is the Train!

Do my shit undercover
now it’s time for the blubba
had to break away from that tea-baggah
gay boy on a diet don’t try it
I’ll jack your ass like a looter in a riot
my shits fat like a sumo slammin’ dat ass
leavin’ your face in Steve Roydz ass
you know I don’t take a dulo lightly
punk just jealous cuz he can’t outwrite me
so kick that style, wicked wild
happy face nigga never seen me smile
rip dat mainframe
I’ll explain
a nigga like me is goin’ insane

chorus

Like louie armstrong
played the trumpet
I’ll hit dat bong and break ya off something soon
I got ta get my props
cops
come and try to snatch my crops
Axl sucks dick? Head to the next town
Will he suck or wait till the swellin’ go down?
they get mad when they come to raid my pad
and I’m out in the nine-deuce Cad

yes I’m the pirate pilot
of this ship if I get
wit’ the ultraviolet dream
hide from the red light beam
now do you believe in the unseen
look, but don’t make you eyes strain
a nigga like me is goin’ insane

chorus

Pete: Word Life,
Barney Fife…
I didn’t have sex, with your wife, Axl…

Cause I heard da bitch gots a dick.
Peace, yo.

Pete XFactor Trable rant Axl, e-fed, e-wrestling, parody, Steve Roydz, wrestling, XFactor Pete Trable

[The scene opens with Jerri lying on a bed with scars on her face.]

Jerri: That was awesome!

[She leans over and pulls a piece barbed wire from a draw and starts rubbing it between her teeth, cutting the edges of her mouth. The sounds of a shower in the next room stop and a man named Benny walks in with a towel around his waist. Jerri scratches a pimple on her face until it pops.]

Benny: I suppose now you’re a big wrestling superstar you won’t have time for guys like me.

[Jerri goes back to the drawer and turns back with a ping pong paddle with nails superglued to it.]

Jerri: Not if you can make good use of this.

[Jerri tosses the paddle to Benny and flips over, smiling into the pillow.]

Jerri: Destroy my asian ass!

[Benny rubs his chin with a grin before lightly patting Jerri's left cheek.]

Jerri: Harder! Make it bleed!

[Benny strikes her buttocks as hard as he can but is shocked by all the bleeding holes left behind. Jerri flips back onto her back and rests her hand on her stomach.]

Jerri: Punch me in the belly!

[Benny complies and Jerri screams out in ecstasy, her eyes spinning around in their sockets.]

Jerri: When you guys surprise me it melts my heart.

[Benny grabs her face and rams the back of her head into the wall. He then slaps her with the spiked paddle three times in the stomach.]

Jerri: Yes! Split me open!

[Benny hits her in the face with the paddle and she giggles.]

Jerri: Ok, now it’s your turn.

[She rips the towel from around his waist and takes a cheese grater out of her drawer of toys.]

Jerri: Time to clean you up.

Jerri Li rant Dr. Thrilla, e-fed, e-wrestling, Jerri Li, parody, wrestling

[Kevin is seen with a sewing needle on a thread fixing a fur coat. After he is finished he puts on the coat and picks up a fishing rod. He grabs a box of tackle and pulls the insides out and stuffs them in his pocket.]

Kevin’s Father: Caught you red handed!

Kevin: I’m going to catch sharks, don’t pull me out of it.

Kevin’s Father: Sharks?

[Kevin looks at the clock as it changes from 8:59 to 9:00.]

Kevin: It’s 8:60 dad, you’ll make me late, don’t be an asshole.

Kevin’s Father: Even with that coat you’ll turn into a snowman in this weather.

[Kevin holds his hands against the sides of his head.]

Kevin: It’s too much pressure, you treat me like I’m going to break my arm every time I do this.

Kevin’s Father: You’re telling you’re going to catch sharks, where do you get the guts?

Kevin: Just let me go, you’re making my brain spin.

[Kevin grabs his fishing rod and stretches his arms in circles.]

Kevin: I’m not catching a helicopter, so let me get the hell out of here.

[Kevin puts a fisherman's hat on and storms out of the room. Outside he gets into the passenger seat of a car where some pimply faced teenager is ready to drive away. Kevin throws his gear in the back seat and stretches his legs out in front of him.]

Kevin: Floor it!

Kevin the Pyromaniac rant e-fed, e-wrestling, Kevin the Pyromaniac, parody, wrestling

*Mr. Paradox adjusts the camera, and then sits on a counter in a disused building, again somewhere in South Dakota. Next to him, Dr. Thrilla has a rusty scalpel in hand and is busily cutting into some poor fool who fell for the “All-in-one” surgery package advertised on the door. The man being carved can’t feel it, as Dr. Thrilla poured a sixty of moonshine down his throat before surgery. At the other end of the table,Cecil sits blindfolded, not wanting to see it.*

Mr. Paradox: That was a rousing comeback, wasn’t it, doctor?

Dr. Thrilla: *upbeat metal clanging*

Cecil: The doctor says he whipped Pete Trable but good.

Mr. Paradox: And thank the gods for that. I can’t stand the bastard. Felt good to nail Pigeon with the Reverse Backbreaker with a Spanish Twist while I was at it.

Dr. Thrilla: *confused metal clanging*

Cecil: The doctor wonders how you got the pinfall afterwards.

Mr. Paradox: Number twenty-two.

Dr. Thrilla: *accepting metal clanging*

Cecil: He says “Ah”.

*Dr. Thrilla tosses what looks like a gallbladder towards Mr. Paradox, who catches it in a handy bucket.*

Dr. Thrilla: *Dismissive metal clanging*

Cecil: The doctor states that he wishes Alex Smith hadn’t called that match, because his conspiracy theories are a load of garbage.

Dr Thrila: *Raises a finger, explanatory metal clanging*

Cecil: He specifically hates how he plays right into the hands of the Mercury Militia.

Mr. Paradox: Yes, that does get irritating, doesn’t it? I miss the good old days of Dimension Z, when we kept him in a tight latex costume and called him Meat-Puppet. *Turns to the camera* Not in that way, Stevie-boy, you can get it out of your head now.

Dr. Thrilla: *questioning metal clanging*

Cecil: The doctor wonders if we can’t put him back in the costume.

Mr. Paradox: Say… there’s an idea… *Takes out a notepad and writes something down* As for Sarah the Jobber Slayer… First of all, bully on you for screwing everyone over and claiming the OWTTM title, but we shouldn’t be feuding. You see, we have a common goal.

*He catches an incoming length of intestines in the bucket.*

Mr. Paradox: If you want me to apologize for Xamfir’s eye… hey, that was an accident. I got banana on my boot. But that’s beside the point. We have a common goal and a common enemy…

*Setting the bucket down, Mr. Paradox stands up, picks up his sword from beside the table, and slowly draws it.*

Mr. Paradox: Steve Studnuts. I’ve gotten screwed out of the Swiss Army Belt before. More than once, actually. Axl Van Halen is going to die at my hands for that first one. But I refuse to see it languish in your hands. I’m not going after the top of the mountain until I cut it out of your rotten waist and drape the gold of the Swiss Army over my shoulder.

*Dr. Thrilla has taken to eating the poor bastard he was cutting up, and both Cecil and Mr. Paradox wince at the sound, even as the camera cuts out.*

Mr. Paradox: Doctor, what have I told you about using your teeth instead of a scalpel?

Dr. Thrilla: *embarassed metal clanging*

Cecil: That it looks too much like cannibalism…

Mr. Paradox rant Alex Smith, Axl, Dr. Thrilla, e-fed, e-wrestling, Mr. Paradox, parody, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer", Steve Studnuts, wrestling

Pete: Yo, yo, YO… Lemme speak on this.

“Doctah Thrilla, he vanilla, he be borin’ like a crack-ah’,
I’ll cut him intah ribbons, zap that bitch wit’ my bug zapp-ah’.
I’ll slice him and I’ll dice him, then I’ll slice him some more,
Show that bitch my right and left hand, then I’ll show him the floor.
He be chompin’ wit’ that trap, but when the suckah meets the Fact-ah’?
I’ll rip that trap right out his mouth and chomp his foo’ head off like a rapt-ah’.
He wanna fuck wit’ my ignition, he be failin’ fah sho’.
I’m a man on a mission, I’ll pimp-slap that Thrilla like he my ho.
I’ll go crazy on that bitch like Britney Spears did to her hair,
I’ll sell that motha’-crunk-ah like he some kinda time share.
And when the Fact-ah’s done and through, with nuttin’ left for him tah do?
I’ll STILL go wild on his punk ass like some chimpanzees in a zoo.
And then I’ll take his ass-hat buddy, Pair-a-dix or whatev-ah’ be his name,
I’ll fuck his whole game, it’s a Low, Down, Dirty Shame.
I’ll treat him like a step-kid, kick his ass into the basement,
Make him beg fah mercy, but ain’t a damn bit gonna be sent.
Make him wish he’d stayed at home, ’stead ah steppin’ in dat ring.
I’ll leave Thrilla on a walker, leave Pair-a-dix up in a sling.
And when they asses laid out in a hospital bed, and all is said and done?
The only words they’ll hear is – ”

~ What about me… What about PIGEON?! ~

Pete: Word to yo’ gram-gram.

Pete XFactor Trable rant Dr. Thrilla, e-fed, e-wrestling, Mr. Paradox, parody, Pigeon, wrestling, XFactor Pete Trable

[A bar. Pretty empty. "Chinese Burn" by Curve is blaring over the sound system. Only one girl is sitting at the bar. Trey Vincent approaches.]

TV: Kyra? What a coincidence.

Kyra: Have we fucked?

TV: Yeah.

Kyra: I knew your face looked familiar. What’s up?

TV: Nothing. Just getting some beers.

Kyra: Drinking makes me so horny…what was your name again?

TV: Trey.

Kyra: Right. The wrestler.

TV: Sports entertainer. And blinking makes me horny.

Kyra: Really?

[She jams her hand in between his legs.]

Kyra: Liar.

[Pause.]

TV: Hold on.

Kyra: Waiting…oh, hello?

TV: Right.

Kyra: You really shouldn’t have done so many steroids.

TV: Fuck you, bitch.

Kyra: Is that a clit or are you just half-Chinese?

TV: You kiss your mother with that mouth?

Kyra: No. I suck cocks with it.

TV: I can’t believe you…

Kyra: Yeah, well, get used to it. If you’re gonna keep going to all my favorite dive bars and sitting next to me and, fuck, filming me? And by the way, next time, his camera stays, but he has to leave.

Cameraman: Awww!

TV: Damn, my promos are so vulgar. My last one was sponsored by the Filipina Gallery. Mail order brides from the Philippines.

Kyra: Oh yeah? You gonna order one? Could be fun for us.

TV: Us? Seriously?

Kyra: Sure. You know what would be hot? I could send for her, then we could go to Massachusetts, get married, and then you could commit adultery with both of us. You’re going to hell anyway, right? Might as well enjoy the ride.

[She downs a shot of something.]

Kyra: Man, it feels good to have fun. Let’s go fuck in the bathroom.

TV: Right.

[Jump cut. Trey's suddenly at the men's room door.]

TV: What are you waiting for?

[Kyra's still at the bar.]

Kyra: (Doing a double take) How the fuck did you move that fast? Wait, wait. Before, you have to impress me. You’ve got a match with Luke Warm and SMP.

[Trey returns to his stool at the bar sighing.]

Kyra: Bartender. Can I get…hmm…six amaretto sours?

Bartender: Are you driving?

Kyra: Oh, they’re not for me. They’re all for him.

Bartender: Are you driving?

TV: Nah. I learned my lesson. This one time, I was speeding down the highway and lost control of my car, went through a guardrail, rolled down a cliff, bounced off a tree, landed upside down and finally stopped. The car was smoking and steaming. Some guy came down to check on me. He’s like, “Dude, are you drunk?” And I yelled at him, “Of course I’m drunk! What the hell do you think I am, a stunt driver or something?”

Bartender: Right, so you got your license suspended.

TV: Well, actually, no. Luckily, it was a stolen car.

Bartender: What?

TV: So, they couldn’t trace it to me, you see. But, no, I’m not driving. My apartment is right down the road. I can’t afford to drive around my Jeep too much. Especially since BigBOSS hid all my employees Social Security numbers.

Bartender: Fine. But if you die, I swear I’ll come to your wake and piss on you.

TV: Lovely. Sounds fine to me.

Kyra: Yeah, Trey loves it when guys piss on him.

TV: Hey!

Kyra: Right. So here’s the deal. You need to drink these drinks. And then you have to totally out rant SMP.

TV: Why? He’s not focused on me. Sadly, when he’s drunk, he’s focusing on Axl and Pete Trable. Why isn’t he focused on Nurse Heidi like he should be? I’d focus all over her face and those bodacious tatas.

Kyra: So, you’d say you’re easily going to beat Luke Warm and Dr. Silaconne M. Plants.

TV: Hell, Trey Vincent doesn’t have to. I just need to get disqualified so I don’t lose the titles. And Plants, remember this. Nobody knows more ways to get himself disqualified than Trey Vincent.

Kyra: Why are you talking in third person?

TV: Heh, I just channeled The Great for some reason. But I did it before The Great did it. But it was just too big of a pain in the ass, so I stopped because Trey Vincent kept going in and out of third person and first person. Like I am right now.

Kyra: Yeah, and The Rock did it before you.

TV: That guy who’s running for president?

Kyra: Barack Obama?

TV: Yeah. Wasn’t he the one who did that whole “people’s champion” bullshit. You know…”Barack says, Barack says, Barack says know your damn role?”

Kyra: No, no, different person.

[The drinks arrive.]

TV: FINALLY!

Kyra: Drink up, Trey. And show SMP how a real man drinks amarettos.

[Trey stares at the drinks.]

TV: Do real men drink amaretto?

Kyra: No. It’s kind of a faggy drink.

TV: No wonder SMP’s watching Axl and Pete Trable promos. If we had seen him from the waist down, he probably would’ve been naked and messy. Plants. You sissy. Go watch your Axl promos, go get drunk, and don’t worry about me or anything. You only have a guy who hasn’t ranted as your partner. Me? I’ve got a little psychotic flammable leprechaun as a partner. You’re in deep trouble. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go do some more important things.

[Trey stares at the drinks.]

TV: Ahh. I know what I can use those for. If you thought the Shock and Awe was something, just wait until you get Donkey Punched.

Kyra: You talk big. Bring it, bitch.

[Cut.]

Trey Vincent rant Axl, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, e-fed, e-wrestling, Luke Warm, Mr. Paradox, parody, The Great, Trey Vincent, wrestling, XFactor Pete Trable

[The scene opens outside the nuthouse with heavy rain pouring down. Kevin The Pyromaniac is standing alone at the bus stop, stubble on his face and a cold look in his eye. He pulls the collar of his jacket up as the bus pulls in and the doors open with a hiss.]

Bus Driver: Hey kid, you don’t look so good.

Kevin: I’ve seen some things and I’ve gotten help, I don’t know how to adjust to the real world anymore.

Bus Driver: Did you just come from in there?

[The bus driver points his finger at the ominous building to his side.]

Kevin: Jesus, of course I did.

[Kevin lights up a smoke.]

Bus Driver: Can’t you read?

Kevin: No.

[The bus driver points to a sign with a cigarette in a red circle.]

Bus Driver: No smoking!

Kevin: God damn it.

[Kevin walks towards the back of the bus as the doors close and the vehicle begins to move. Kevin drops into one of the seats and opens up a can of pepsi. It's not long before his addiction gets the better of him and he lights up his cigarette anyway.]

Bus Driver: Hey! You get the hell off my bus!

Kevin: No!

[The bus driver stops the bus and marches over to Kevin and grabs him by the scruff of his neck.]

Kevin: Get your hands off me!

[Kevin reaches into his jacket and pulls out a bottle of nail polish remover. He throws the liquid at the driver before igniting him with a match. The bus driver screams in pain and runs around the bus like a headless chicken.]

Kevin: I guess some things never change.

[Kevin gets off the bus, having to open the door himself, and walks away as the driver falls out onto the road in a burning heap. Kevin closes his eyes and smiles as he throws his bag over his shoulder and continues on his adventures back to sanity.]

Kevin the Pyromaniac rant e-fed, e-wrestling, Kevin the Pyromaniac, parody, wrestling