Garbage ‘n’ Weapons
[We open at Trey Vincent's office, which is — sadly — his apartment, because BOB no longer has corporate offices as a result of that Comedy Central fiasco. Trey is seated in a black leather chair in front of a computer monitor, which sits atop a generic folding table (the same kind that guys usually get put through on wrestling shows, you know the kind). A framed picture of Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" can be seen over his left shoulder.]
TV: Greetings, humans. I know what you’re thinking. Trey, you’re doing a Rant? But you don’t have a match this week on iMPLOSION 7. WTF? This is true. But I come with a message for all BOBsters to read, or hear, or whatever. That idiot underling, Ted, forgot to mention something important about the Royal Flush Rumble weapon match. You get to pick your weapon. Now, this is important, because if YOU don’t pick your weapon…
[Trey picks up a Darth Vader mask and puts it on.]
TV: I WILL! Hooooo. Heeeee. Hoooo. Heeeee.
[Trey takes off the Vader mask.]
TV: Who the fuck is Garth Vader? And how the hell did Axl get into the Beer in the Belly Match? Didn’t I, or somebody very similar to me, say that to get in the BITB match that you had to have never won the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS? Didn’t Izzy have the title for like two seconds or something? I’ll get back to you in a second, Gilby.
TV: Also, I didn’t hear from Mr. Paradox this week, so he’s in the Royal Flush match. It’s amazing how my own underlings won’t even reply to my PMs. Bastards. So, to Death, XXXtreme Machine, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, Mr. Paradox, Luke Warm, Pigeon, The Great, and Duff, pick your weapon, or I’ll pick it for you! What will you get?
[Trey looks around.]
TV: Well, you might get such great items, as, uh, a circular for the local supermarket. And we all now how dangerous newspapers are! Or, maybe…
[Trey looks around. Trey drags a plastic trash bag in front of him.]
TV: An empty pasta box. Oh, I’ve got tissues boys. You think Sarah’s snot is gonna propel you to the final eight in the Grand Slam tournament? Maybe we’ll find out. What else is in here…bananas peels, an empty diet soda can, crushed water bottles. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Fuck the earth, fuck recycling and fuck Al Gore. You want a weapon, you name it. Or you’ll get my garbage.
[Trey turns around and checks his email.]
TV: Ah, excellent. Looks like SMP has already weighed in with his weapon of choice. This pleases me.
[Trey turns around.]
TV: Now, as for the rest of you. Choose your weapon. Or suck on my garbage. That is all for now. One other thing. I’ll shortly be getting out my famous deck of Hooters cards to determine the order of entrance. It will be random. And it may take a while. *Ahem* Right. So, back to Matt Sorum. I don’t know who this Garth Vader is, but this stupidity is going to end soon. I don’t know who this Superior Power is, but so help me if it’s BigBOSS, or Seth Harker, or, ME, I’ll be so pissed. I’m the most Superior Power in BOB so it must be me, which SUCKS, because I can’t stand Axl or Pigeon or any of those guys. In the words of your own latest member, “hell yeah, you fucking suck.”
TV: Until we meet agayne…
[Cut.]
*Offscreen, we hear a voice saying, “PMs? What the…” Then clicking, and then a quiet, “Crap”. Mr. Paradox then walks onscreen and bows.*
Mr. Paradox: Due to our handler never checking his Private Messages, I will indeed be in the above-mentioned match. For my weapon, I choose my…
*Cecil leans in and whispers in Mr. Paradox’s ear.*
Mr. Paradox: What do you mean “G5 Standards and Practices”?!? Pussies… Very well. As some coward at the network has decided my sword is not acceptable on basic cable, I choose the following for my weapon.
*He walks offscreen and then returns, carrying a large statue of Godzilla on his shoulder.*
Mr. Paradox: My weapon will be this solid plaster statue of Godzilla 2000.