SIN CITY — Thanks to a sinister conspiracy, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants successfully defended the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS against American Panda at Brawlers On a Budget’s Bearly Legal On-Demand, thanks to help from Death and Acting BigBOSS and Swiss Army Belt champion Kid Pirate.
With referee Vicky Jean incapacitated, the Sin City crowd was shocked as Death returned and stuck his finger where it didn’t belong. After a Touch of Death on American Panda, Kid Pirate emerged wearing a referee shirt and counted to three, and SMP got the victory over the dead American hero.
This shocking main event capped off a night of insane action that lived up to the name “Bearly Legal.” In other action:
Kid Pirate defeated Sam, Sam the Dancing Yam via pinfall to retain the Swiss Army Belt, but it took a LOT of help. SMP got involved TWICE, and Axl also got involved. But both men had the same target: Sam. No doubt Sam will be looking for revenge on Kid Pirate, Axl, and SMP in the coming weeks here in BOB.
Kobe Gyant defeated Axl via pin after some help from…any guesses? Yep, SMP once again. The Doc was all over this show, making sure his enemies paid for the things they’ve said in the Rant Zone recently, as well as trying to figure out who his “secret admirer” is. However, SMP has a new challenger for the OWTTM in the form of Gyant. The two will face off at the next BOB On-Demand mega-event.
Steve Studnuts defeated Pigeon via pinfall, and was once again successful in his quest for a match against Trey Vincent at MegaBrawl III. Vincent, BOB’s Executive Producer, has guaranteed the first-ever meeting of the two former iAd members as long as Studnuts can stay undefeated for the remainder of 2009.
Hamster Girl survived the Hardcore Plexiglass Elimination Chamber to become the new The You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain’t Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin’ Mind T&A Hardcore XX Division Champion by defeating The You Gotta Be Kidding I Ain’t Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin’ Mind T&A Hardcore XX Division Title Belt, Tia Tarr, Scatman, Christian St. Christian and Jerri Li.
The Great and XFactor Pete Trable defeated The Wizard and Thomas Largeman via magic trick. Yes, The Great and Trable made the number one contenders for the Not Good Enough To Fight Alone Tag Team titles disappear.
[Scatman, who has clearly had more than a few beers, is stood in his roach infested kitchen smoking a joint as the last few seconds count down on his microwave. He, being Scatman, is a very disgusting individual and is heating up a plastic toy baby to give his pet dog to play with.]
Scatman: Sweet sweet sticky bud fresh off the plantation, how do I love thee?
[The timer on the microwave dings.]
Scatman: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s rose? Or the beauty of a Hershey’s Bar stuck between the teeth?
[He opens the microwave door and pulls the half melted baby off the turntable, some of it’s skin stuck like melted rubber and tearing away.]
Scatman: I’m spoiling you Mars, just like those motherfuckers in the Ferrero Roche commercials.
[He tosses the baby to Mars, who chows down on it like a plate of spaghetti.]
[Scatman turns to the camera, blowing smoke through his chapped, disfigured and shit stained lips and becomes serious.]
Scatman: At Beary Legal I will face a bunch of strangely familiar wrestlers for the AYOOYF… shit, that’s a lot of letters… the hardcore title! All I have to say is, I don’t care if you like crushing people with your feet, like mutilating yourself and others, are some weird circus bitch with boring rants or some cute bitch in a hamster suit who I’d like to suck the shit out of… you’re all going down under the mighty power of the Scatman! Except the belt, inanimate objects seem fucking dangerous as fuck in BOB for some reason.
[The normal calm collective and insanely silly Sam, Sam the Dancing Yam wants to reply to the unjustified remarks made to him by that evil Doctor of Shitinomics, the insane one, the man who’s been institutionalized – Dr. Plants.]
SSTDY – Normally I’d be sitting here drinking my Yam Juicetm, but Mr. Plants has got me all riled up. You see Mr. Plants, I’m not fussed weither or not the eWmania Championship counts or not. At least I didn’t get one of my titles sold in a silent auction or given to a pirate. Which is a plus in my department. So think about that before deciding that my Title reign don’t matter.
[Sam pauses for a moment.]
SSTDY – And at least I don’t have to reside in a mental institution until or beyond Bearly Legal Requirements, so I wouldn’t be boasting to loud, Mr. Insane in the membrane. So why don’t you take your crazy white untrained ass back to the hell that is Death Valley, where you belong…
[Last time on “The Life and Times of the Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer in Wrestling Today™”:]
Surgeon: I’m going to write you a consult to a colleague of mine, he can…. ummm, help you.
SMP: As long as he takes out my fucken jugular, it’s a deal.
Surgeon: Yeah, he can take out your fucken jugular. *rolls eyes* Excuse me, I have to make a call and see if he has an open appointment.
[The surgeon flips open a cell phone, waits a few seconds, and…]
Surgeon: [whispering] Hey, buddy. Got one for ya…
….yeah, he’s a loon. Anything open this month?
In five weeks?
You have to take THIS one, we’ll be laughing at the golf course for months.
Sweet. I’ll send him over there when his handler decides to promo again…
I think he does….
[The surgeon looks at Plants…]
Surgeon: You do have insurance, right?
SMP: Oh yeah, yeah. That’s what I’m doing right now, getting insurance. American Panda will not defeat me. No fucken jugular, no eating of fucken jugular, no win. That’s insurance! It’s a foolproof policy!
[The surgeon is back to his phone conversation.]
He’s a five star whacko. See you at the country club.
[The Surgeon hangs up.]
Surgeon: You’re all set, Dr. Plants. He’ll see you when ‘you know who’ quits being a lazy ass and types up the appointment meeting and, uhrah… remove that pesky fucken jugular for you.
SMP: Thank you so much! You’re aces, kid!
[And now, the continuing saga of “No fucken jugular, no fucken problem”-subtitled: American Panda vs. American Psycho or perhaps Italian Psycho?
[Cut to a generic doctor’s waiting room with generic staff and non-descript furniture. It’s a psychiatrist’s office, a place Dr. Silaconne M. Plants has visited several times over his wrestling tenure. A place he probably should have been more often than not. Although not certifiable, SMP has definitely been involved in some shenanigans that could have pegged him at least borderline schizophrenic or damned near insane. Due to time constraints, we go right to Plants who’s already in the doctor’s office as the physician walks in…a white haired dude with a Colonel Sanders moustache and goatee.]
Doctor: Good aft’noon, I’ve been waiting to zee you, ja.
SMP: Was that a question?
Doctor: Funny man, no? Pleasure to meet you SMP, zee greatest professional wrestler ever.
SMP: Ah yes. You’ve heard of me then?
Doctor: No, I read button on your lapel. I take best care of you, ja. I. B. Looney.
SMP: Isn’t that ironic, don’t you think?
Dr. Looney: Like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife, no? I. B. Looney. *extends hand*
SMP: You said that. I thought I was here to find out if I am loony.
Dr. Looney: HA! You can’t be zee Dr. Looney! There’s only one, ja? Dr. I. B. Looney! Me! I. B. Looney!
SMP: Ummm, do you have a partner? I’m pretty uncomfortable right now.
Dr. Looney: Like a tag-team partner, ja? Consult? I fix you right up, I still get zee consult fee, ja.
[Later that day in another office:]
SMP: Hello, doctor. I’m Dr. Silaconne M. Plants.
Doctor: Nice to meet you *extends hand*. R. U. Krasee.
SMP: Don’t know, that’s why I’m here.
Dr. Krasee: You don’t understand. That’s my name. R. U. Krasee.
SMP: WHAT’S your name? And I don’t know if I’m crazy, you’re the expert. Wait, what’s your name again?
Dr. Krasee: I told you. R. U. Krasee.
SMP: Fine then, you don’t want to tell me again. Fine. Just FINE! And STOP asking me that!
Dr. Krasee: Asking you what? I haven’t asked you a thing.
SMP: You asked me if I was crazy just a second ago.
Dr. Krasee: That’s ridiculous, I haven’t asked you one question. And if I did ask you that, I’d never use the “crazy” word. We prefer mentally unstable or emotionally challenged here at the “Notso Nutso” Clinic.
SMP: You asked me if I was crazy! You said, “are you crazy” to me three times!
Dr. Krasee: Yes, when introducing myself. R. U. Krasee. But I haven’t asked you anything.
SMP: You just did it there! Like Kevin Nealon on SNL doing that lame skit with subliminal messages!
Dr. Krasee: Excuse me? I just told you my name. R. U. Krasee. I never asked a question. Just told you my name. R. U. Krasee. That’s me. R. U. Krasee. I’ve never heard of Kevin Nealon, but I bet he’s heard of me, R. U. Krasee.
SMP: STOP IT, MAN! YOU’RE DRIVING ME INSANE! STOP IT WITH THE CREEPY SUBLIMINAL MESSAGE GUY ROUTINE!
Dr. Krasee: Dr. Plants, there’s several subliminal messages in the world, but I’m not guilty of participating. I do have this snazzy video that shows some subliminals in advertising, though. Do enjoy!
SMP: Wow. I need a cigarette.
Dr. Krasee: Indeed, my wife especially likes the hotdog one and the bowl, but the contents in the bowl makes me feel a little self conscious, you know? But what can I do? She’s such a naughty girl sometimes.
SMP: Your wife?
Dr. Krasee: Yes. U. B. Krasee. Ursula, oh how I love her, she calls me Randy. You know, short for Randolph.
SMP: I heard that. Don’t think I didn’t hear you just call me crazy douja-like. Yeah, you be crazy. Um-hmm.
Dr. Krasee: What? Are you talking about my wife? U. B. Krasee.
SMP: OKAY! That’s it! I’m out of here!
[Later that day in another office.]
SMP: This has been a very strange day, can you help me? I think I’m losing my mind.
Doctor: I’ll do whatever I can. An honor to meet you, Dr. SMP, best wrestler on the planet.
Doctor: Nice t-shirt, is that Calibri?
SMP: No, it’s cotton.
Doctor: Talking about the font, Doc. I really like how “best wrestler” is in that text highlight color.
SMP: Yeah, okay. Whatever. Can you help me?
Doctor: Sure. *extends hand* I’ll do my best. I. M. Nuttz.
SMP: Oh, piss off! Are there any shrinks in this town whose names are NOT a poorly constructed series of puns?
SMP: I. M. Nuttz? Huh? Really?
Doctor: Well, if you are I can help you.
SMP: Oh no, don’t turn this around on me! You said, I.M. Nuttz.
Doctor: No I didn’t. I never called you that at all.
SMP: THAT’S IT! I can’t stand any more of this! American Panda, at Bearly Legal I’m going to beat you so severely that Sarah McLachlan is going to want my head! She’s already stirring up guff after what I did to you at iMPLOSION! 16. But that’s okay. Putting you nighty night with temporary paralysis with tainted bamboo and busting your noggin wide open was just the beginning. I’m hunting bear! Panda Bear!
Dr. Nuttz: Are you talking about fighting a bear? Hitting a bear?
SMP: Yes, a REAL bear. I put lipstick on him and made him kiss my ass, too. I have to defend my ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS against him at Bearly Legal. He’s going to try and eat my fucken jugular, but I can stop that if you take out my fucken jugular.
Dr. Nuttz: Did you say a bear kissed your ass?
SMP: Yes, after I put lipstick on him.
Dr. Nuttz: And you said your name is silicone implants?
Dr. Nuttz: You think you’re silicone implants, had a bear with applied lipstick, that you put on him, kiss your ass after you paralyzed him with laced bamboo, and now you’re afraid he’s going to eat your jugular for revenge. Well, I can see why he’d be upset. Pffft.
SMP: My fucken jugular.
Dr. Nuttz: Riiiiiiiiiiiiight.
SMP: So, can you help me or what?
Dr. Nuttz: Well, you’re definitely getting admitted, you need extensive psychiatric evaluation and treatment. Say, aren’t you that guy that hid under Ruben Studdard’s titty and attacked that horrible singer at last year’s ”American Idol” finale?
Dr. Nuttz: I see a history of bizarre behavior here. Aren’t you also the same guy that caused a ruckus on “Jeopardy” and wiped feces on a door?
SMP: No, I’m positive that was Scatman. You can’t admit me, I have to be a Bearly Legal!
Dr. Nuttz: You keep mentioning that. Barely Legal, is that some kind of pre-18 party? You could go to jail for that, you know?
SMP: No! Bearly Legal! Bearly Legal!
Dr. Nuttz: I said that…
[SMP runs and jumps out of the window, hopefully to appear at Bearly Legal-On Demand to defend his championship. Will he make it? Stay tuned…]
SSTDY – First of all never call me Sammy boy ever again otherwise you can forget about those cases of Yam Juicetm that I owe you, and two like always I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do next. Will I reign undisputed and undefeated as eWmania champion? I hope so. Will I clime the ranks of BOB and win the OWTTM? Hell yes. Will I join another company and spread the word of Yams everywhere? We shall wait and see, Mr. Judy in the Sky with Diamonds. Fate is an unknown factor so we shall just have to wait and see what happens next.
SMP: *while running to his car* I saw this, Sammy BOY! Yeah, I said it, SAMMY BOY! You may be good at winning eWmania events that A) Don’t Matter and B) Mean Nothing… but the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS is on top of a mountain you’ll NEVER CLIME (sic). After I kill that bear, I’m gonna have Yam Juice™<--yeah?
ON THE BOTTOM OF MY $1,000 ITALIAN DESIGNER WINGTIPS AFTER I STOMP YOUR GUTS OUT, PAL!
GET IT? GOT IT? GOOD!
[Cut back to the open window, Dr. Nuttz looks out of it shaking his head.]
Dr. Nuttz: That man. Is insane. I really hope he gets the help he needs...
[As we fade up to yet another rant from eWmania’s Champion of Champions, Sam, Sam The Dancing Yam, we can’t help but wonder what life will be the same now that for some silly reason they’ve changed boards.]
SSTDY – I got lost on the way over. Ended up on a website for single people. I’ve got 73 hits so far on my page. Having had this made offers for dates since I told all the female yams I was going to be on TV. Or at least on internet TV anyways.
[But here we are the new boards. What are we going to do now Sammy boy?]
SSTDY – First of all never call me Sammy boy ever again otherwise you can forget about those cases of Yam Juice[SUP]tm[/SUM] that I owe you, and two like always I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do next. Will I reign undisputed and undefeated as eWmania champion? I hope so. Will I clime the ranks of BOB and win the OWTTM? Hell yes. Will I join another company and spread the word of Yams everywhere? We shall wait and see, Mr. Judy in the Sky with Diamonds. Fate is an unknown factor so we shall just have to wait and see what happens next.
[That’s the longest I’ve ever heard you speak at one time Sam, are you on something?]
SSTDY – Well, you actually let me complete my script instead of ad-libbing which allowed me to speak my entire written promo thingee for this segment so all is well in the land of Yam.
[And with that being said I must now depart for another reality so until I have a match to roleplay for or I have to much time on my hands and decide to write another one, good day sirs and other peoples.]
[Scatman is at a house show… seems they only run every so often and just for rants.]
Scatman: I have something to say! Jerri has been turning me on so much lately… maybe it’s because I’m sick in the head but her matches lately have been sloshing around in my head like a fine brandy in a glass made of poo. So I went out and got myself an asian girlfriend… and here she is!
[He holds up a photograph and the camera zooms in.]
Scatman: She doesn’t talk, she doesn’t move, she’s made of latex… ladies and gentlemen this girl is going for only $6000 and every last of mine and St. Christian’s paychecks over the past 6 months… and all of Tentacle Beast’s money he hadn’t already spent on lotion and LSD… and I managed to buy myself a girlfriend. She lets me rub poo on her tits and I even made her asshole bigger with a pair of scissors. You may be speechless in disgust and horror, but she’s real flesh and bone to me and Goddamnit that’s all that matters!
[The fans start throwing beer glasses filled with piss at the ring but Scatman doesn’t even flinch.]
Scatman: You too fans can spread your faeces on a mannequin and thank Scatman for your swamp of love!
[His music hits and Mexican immigrant security guards escort him out of the building.]
Comments Off on Winner. Winner. Kobe likes fried chicken for dinner?
(The Great walks in to Little Johnny’s room as Johnny frantically tries to reboot Cyborg Angelina X. Not like that, you sick, perverted perverts! Get your mind of the gutter! Johnny’s in kindergarten for crying out loud! Shame on you! Shame on you all! Ummmmmmmm.
The Great: Johnny? What are you doing?
Little Johnny: Obviously rebooting my cyborb in a totally non sexual manner, does it appear otherwise? Your simpleton sidekick, Peter Trable, corrupted her data base with a Toothlesspac Shakur rap that would make even Biz Markie sound coherent.
The Great: Let The Great listen to it.
Little Johnny: No! I will be punished for its vulgarity and innuendo!
The Great: Nonsense, Pete made the rap, how could The Great punish you?
Little Johnny: Okay then, you asked for it.
(Johnny points a remote at the robot, its t.v. screen head comes to life, its accordion tube arms swing in the air like they just don’t care, and just when you think DANGER WILL ROBINSON will blurt out, you hear something worse.)
The Great: That wasn’t so bad. The Great somewhat enjoyed that.
Little Johnny: That’s the clean part, Father. The Wal-Mart shelf version. The specialty store hardcore, get your parent’s permission to purchase portion in forthcoming. You’ve been warned. I’m completely awash of co-conspiracy, correct?
The Great: The Great guesses so.
(Little Johnny gulps and points the remote again at the robot.)
Little Johnny: That’s precisely what I was going to inform you about, Father. Pete locked in the digital voice simulator with an intricate pattern of passwords and trigonometry. I can’t break the code, and I’m still alarmed at the fact I used Pete and trigonometry in the same sentence. He must have accidently created a near impervious protection device on the voice emit. Give me a day or two.
The Great: Fine, just keep the volume down so your mother doesn’t hear it. She’ll ground all of us!
Little Johnny: I don’t sweat the Breeder. Besides, isn’t it on a shopping spree with other greedy spouses?
The Great: Of course.
Little Johnny: I have two days then. At the minimum.
The Great: Do the best you can. The Great can’t afford being kept home with this GYANT encounter on the horizon. The Great, as is Kobe Gyant, is on the threshold of huge things in 2009. The Great and Kobe Gyant are the true future of BOB. Not the current champion who’s rumored to be going to surround himself with a bunch of old STWF guys and putting together some half assed ‘Feature Match Mafia’, not the panda bear, not the wizard guy, nor the chick with the metal on her face or the guy covered in feces, and certainly not the dude that lamely sends his promos in via third party email. No. It’s The Great. It’s Kobe. The Great will give the man his due, he’s very talented and very dangerous. He’s on the rise. But so is The Great. The winner of this match will get the inside track on being the leader of the new BOB. The Headliner of Tomorrow. The Next Big Thing.
Little Johnny: Umm. Wasn’t that Brock Lesnar?
The Great: Is Brock Lesnar in BOB?
Little Johnny: No.
The Great: Then no, it’s not Brock Lesnar. Although The Great heard John Cena was coming to the Brawler’s on a Budget.
Little Johnny: I figured Lesnar would eventually show , he’s been everywhere else it seems. Maybe Kimbo Slice? He’s certainly lost some luster after he got KTFOed. BOB would be a nice fit.
The Great: Did you just say KTFOed?
Little Johnny: Yes. So?
The Great: Since when was it okay for you to swear, even if in letter form?
Little Johnny: Gah? Huh? Oh wait, wait does it mean? I do not know, I’m only in kindergarten, remember. Look at me! I’m five years old!
The Great: Nice try. You’re grounded.
Little Johnny: Okay, I’ll tell the Breeder that you made Pete Trable program my robot to speak like Chuck D and see if you get to iMPLOSION! 16 mister.
The Great: Alright, ALRIGHT! You’re ungrounded.
(The Great then turns to the camera)
The Great: Kobe. It’s game time. The Great doesn’t condone Pete’s silent auction purchase, The Great likes to earn what The Great gets. The Great is going to pretend that you are the tag-team champions and what stands between The Great and GREATNESS in the Brawler’s on a Budget. It’s a new attitude era, and you are The Rock and The Great is Stone Cold. The Great may even pull out a Stunner 03. The Great will see you soon. Son.
(The cyborg Angelina X passes by the camera one last time.)
It IS 24 hours (or so) before the big show in Sin City, Total Non-Action Wrestling iMPLOSION 16! It is set to feature one of the biggest one on one matches in the history of our sport in the form of Kobe Gyant versus The Great. Oh yeah! Last second RPing bitches! 😉 To give this match the big main event fight feel it deserves, Kobe Gyant has assembled various wrestling bloggers (who by definition have no lives) to answer any and all questions about the life of Kobe Gyant. Flash bulbs flash for no conceivable reason, and the reporters rub their crotches in anticipation of the arrival of the most over black man (without the last name Obama) in the country. Finally, a side door in the ballroom opens, and every fanboy orgasms in unison as Kobe Gyant steps out. Kobe takes a bow as he emerges and various bloggers put things on their laps to hide their wet mark-out stains. Kobe heads to the podium, flanked by a posse of dudes in Los Santos purple and gold basketball jerseys. Since Kobe has never actually done a press conference before, he just stands there for several seconds waiting for people to ask questions. Nobody does. So Kobe points at a huge man wearing an “I Beat Anorexia” T-shirt.
<--I Beat Anorexia Guy-->
Kobe! You’re not in your home town, expectations are low, but your fans are all expecting.
Yo, is that some kind of crack about all my fans being pregnant white women that I’ve impregnated? What language are you speaking? You aren’t very articulate for a fat dude with a blog.
<--I Beat Anorexia Guy-->
Uhm…it’s been 18 months since you’ve held any championship gold.
It is? I thought I started here in July?
<--Kobe Gyant's Posse-->
<--I Beat Anorexia Guy-->
The pressure’s gotta be on. How do you feel just one day before the biggest night of your career.
Kobe laughs for two minutes straight. Everyone else laughs nervously, then joins in until the room is filled with laughter. Then, Kobe suddenly stops laughing, and everyone follows his lead.
First, to correct you, it’s the night before the biggest night of my career. And how do I feel? Not very good, you know. I was lifting weights this morning and got sick to my stomach. I figured it was some kind of karmic punishment or something for all the white bitches I’ve made pregnant, my own kind of morning sickness. But no. Turns out I have a slight case of food poisoning. Ate some bad shrimp last night. But I can still score a record amount of points no matter where I’m playin’, you know. But Kobe Gyant don’t lay down for some dude named Sal Monilla, and he sure don’t lay down for some white Keanu Reeves lookin’ dude.
<--Kobe Gyant's Posse-->
Wyld Stallyns! Woof!
Look, this is the BOB. Tomorrow night is one of the biggest TV shows of the year. Pressure? I’m Kobe Gyant, son! I’m the greatest high school basketball star turned wrestler in the history of the game. And oh, I got game, son! Everyone dreams of having five-star matches. But I dream of six-star matches. I’m messing up your world, bloggers! The Great can bring Angelina X, and I hope he does. Then she’ll be within fingertips reach. So close I can smell her. All The Great needs to know is that he ain’t gonna win this match via no silent auction. The Gyant cannot be bought! I’m a dollar menunaire, son! Tell The Great to prepare for the Great Depression of ’09, and I ain’t talkin’ about the economy, son.
A white lady who looks like Sarah Palin stands up.
<--Kobe Gyant's Posse-->
As you may know, The Great has created quite a following since his start in BOB. A lot of people believe The Great is headed for a main event push in 2009. Do you think The Great deserves the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS?
Kobe quickly nods.
Not as much as I do. Look, The Great is no doubt talented
<--Kobe Gyant's Posse-->
Theodore Logan! Woof!
Black is the new black. Michelle is a smart lady. The Great and myself are both young and hungry for gold. The only difference is I won’t have some wigger buy me my gold belt when it’s my time, son!
<--Kobe Gyant's Posse-->
But you better remember that The Great, just like A-Rod, needed a little help from his performance-enhancing friends to get where he’s at today, you know. I’ll hit every move on him, I’ll hit him with his urine test, I’ll hit him with a Congressional investigation, whatever it takes. If the Sin City fans think I’m gonna lose, then their sorely mistaken. I’m talking pink sock sore, yo!
Kobe Gyant smiles as Not Keith stands up.
<--Kobe Gyant's Posse-->
So, apparently you’re in a “feud” with Axl, but one wouldn’t know it with the horrid way this promotion is booked. My question, sir, is how was the dinner with Tifa? And a follow-up…aren’t “wrestlers” who do “press conferences” for RPs usually really, really, REALLY, really untalented and just stroking their own ego for 1,000 words or so?
<--Kobe Gyant Posse Member #1-->
Can I shoot that mother*BLEEP*
Cool it, man! Yo. Here’s how it is. The title of this Rant says it all about Tifa and myself. Plus it was cleaner than “Chicken, Chicken, Stuck My *BEEP* In,” you know. You want to know what I did to her? Stick a red hot poker up your own rectum, I’m sure you’ve done it plenty of times, and then sniff it. That’s how most of my fingers and my black python smelled by the time we were through. Yo. As for your crack about that press conference, whatever. When you gonna update your site, boy? Huh? The only dude who had any talent there was Ted, and he works for BOB now. What you do, huh? You can’t even afford to update a site on geocities? Psssh. Now that, my marks, is a loser. Why don’t you go back to your basement and dream of Axl givin’ you a Cleveland steamer while I’m doing things to Tifa that you can only dream about.
Keith holds his hand up once more for a follow up question.
For the record, I’ve been watching 24, Scrubs, and Lost in addition to wrestling. And B-movies! I will blog agayne!!
<--Kobe Gyant's Posse-->
Everyone laughs at Not Keith.
In closing…Love goo on bitches, and fully shaved Britons
Shoving in Kobe Jr. anywhere he will fit in
Spread young girls who don’t hail from Beijing
These are a few of my favorite things
The fourth PlayStation from Sony and my dark chocolate streudel
Any blonde white bitch who walks around with a poodle
Banging a girl while listening to Martin Luther King
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Busting a nut on their nose and eyelashes
Beatin’ The Great and Axl in the middle of my ring!
These are a few of my favorite things.
I told y’all I watched that movie 70 times.
Gyant smiles, does a simultaneous wink (or blinks) just for that MILF, stands up for those with the benefit of flash photography, adjusts Kobe Jr., and leaves.
[Cotton candy, sugar, fireworks, pizza, ice cream, rollercoasters and skateboarding. It was all a haze of candy fueled insanity that had finally come to an end. Hamster Girl was sat on the floor, leaning against the wall of a disco.]
Hamster Girl: I am soooooo hung over.
[Empty packets of ice cream sandwiches and soda bottles lay around her. Hamster Girl holds her head in pain.]
Hamster Girl: Why did I have to have so many pixie sticks?
[Clive clears his throat a little, trying to get Hamster Girl to hurry up. She looks up into the camera, her eyes bloodshot solid and her lips dryer than a camel’s hump. She holds her tummy as it makes funny noises.]
Hamster Girl: Now that Indigo has left BOB, what a jobber, I’m left all alone. And to start making a name for myself I am going to try and get in that hardcore match at Bearly Legal. Hopefully it wont be too hardcore, but I suppose I have to toughen up some day.
[She tries to stand up but falls flat on her tushy.]