Home > rant > To be… or not to be. Crazy.

To be… or not to be. Crazy.

February 16th, 2009

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[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?

No?
In five weeks?

You have to take THIS one, we’ll be laughing at the golf course for months.

You do?
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.

SMP: Thanks.

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?

Doctor: Huh?

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?

SMP: Correct.

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?

SMP: No.

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...

rant

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