BOB eWrestling | Rant Zone Archive!

Caption: The Night Before October Surprise

*ZZZ-Zzzz-ZZzzz-hngGGggh-Ppbhww- zZZzzzZZ . . .*

*ZZZ-Zzzz-ZZzzz-hngGGggh-Ppbhww- zZZzzzZZ . . .*

Death: What the hell is that noise?

[Death rolls over to look at the clock. 3:29 A.M. The noise? That was his wife, Katie. Snoring. As if the bowels of hell were about to spill forth from her mouth.]

*ZZZ-Zzzz-ZZzzz-hngGGggh-Ppbhww- zZZzzzZZ . . .*

*VMMMMMM VMMMMMM VMMMMMM VMMMMMM*

[That's the cell phone vibrating now. Death throws the covers off and walks naked over to the dresser. Oh yes, it's the classic naked pelvis in the moonlight shot. It'll have to do since Death doesn't have an ass. Death grabs his cell phone and looks at the caller ID. After sighing, Death opens the phone.]

*ZZZ-Zzzz-ZZzzz-hngGGggh-Ppbhww- zZZzzzZZ . . .*

Voice: Good ME, what is that noise?

Death: Hey, Boss. That’s Katie. She ate some drunk and you know how she gets when she’s been devouring booze-soaked brains.

*ZZZ-Zzzz-ZZzzz-hngGGggh-Ppbhww- zZZzzzZZ . . .*

Voice: Death, Your Lord Thy God hates to wakest thou. Your Lord Thy God knows you’ve got that oh-so-important match in ROB tomorrow.

Death: BOB.

*ZZZ-Zzzz-ZZzzz-hngGGggh-Ppbhww- zZZzzzZZ . . .*

Voice: Right. But Your Lord Thy God really needs you to goest to a nursing home. Your Lord Thy God has two delays on the Big Board, and Your Lord Thy God can’t get a hold of Reaper. Your Lord Thy God isn’t U.S. Airways, for my sake. Can thou doest this for your Lord thy God?

Death: Fine. I can’t sleep anyway with all this snoring.

[Death yawns.]

Caption: Waiting To Die Nursing Home

[A while later, Death breezes his way through the hallways of a nursing home. All is quiet. Tomb-like.]

Death: Am I in a nursing home or at a BOB show? BWAHAHAHA!

[Eventually, Death finds the room he was looking for. He walks past one bed and looks into bed number two and finds an old man wearing a Death T-shirt, holding a bony foam Death finger, and a Skull & Bones black baseball cap. The man is smiling widely.]

Man: Death. I’m your biggest fan!

[Death cocks his head to the left, confused by this.]

Death: You know I’m here to KILL you, yeah?

Man: Heh?

Death: I’m here to KILL YOU.

Man: Heh?

Death: Oh this going well. Look, pal, I’ve got two more stops to make tonight.

Man: Death. I just wanted to tell you that I’m your biggest fan. I’ve seen all your matches on the idiot box (he says pointing at the TV mounted on the wall behind Death). But lately, it’s been so sad. I was such a huge fan of yours.

Death: Say WHAT?

Man: Heh? Anyway. You lose all the time now. You big loser. You’re like the world’s biggest loser now. You lost to Steve Studnuts, and then to all those guys in that egg match with those coloreds.

Death: Coloreds? Is this 1940?

Man: Look, Death. It’s just not worth living any more watching you lose all the time. I used to think, wow, there’s a guy who’s got less talent than me, but he was able to make it in rasslin. Even if it was in BOB. But now? There’s no reason. I bet you couldn’t even kill me!

Death: Oh, you’re about to find out.

Man: Bring it on you cracker sonofawhore!

[As if in slow motion, the man pulls the covers back, revealing that he's just barely got more skin than Death. Shakily, the old man tries to push himself up, but he can't do it, because all of his muscles have wasted away. While this is going on, Death reaches up and yanks the TV off the wall.]

Death: Here’s a “Big Bang Theory” for you.

*BANG*

Death: Man, it’s so nice and quiet in here. Maybe I could sneak in a nap.

*ZZZ-Zzzz-ZZzzz-hngGGggh-Ppbhww- zZZzzzZZ . . .*

Death: Son of a!

[Death walks to the other bed where a man is snoring loudly. That was when he noticed a deck of cards on a table.]

Death: Oooh, isn’t this convenient. Hey, snoring guy, you ever played 52 Card Choke?

[Back outside in a bit, Death was cruising in his Deathmobile when a radio ad caught his attention.]

Announcer: Do you want to stop snoring for good?

Death: Think I’m doing OK myself, pal.

Announcer: Is your wife a heavy drinker, a smoker, or a zombie! Then you need our product!

[Death changes the radio station. "Smooth Operator" by Sade.]

Death: Bah! I hate this song! Wait…did he say zombie?

[Death flips back to the other station.]

Announcer: …dot-com now!

["(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones starts up.]

Death: Ohhhh!

DJ: Wassup, creatures of the night. This one’s going out to my man, The Great, who will be rocking it in Snore Games this week and leading his team to victory.

Death: His team? HIS team?

DJ: Stones on Kay Yew Enn Tee Sin City, and we’re taking your requests all night long!

Death: Oh, this night can’t get any worse, can it? Am I over the hill? I need a stable to hide my fading talent.

[Death pulls out his cell phone.]

Death: Hey. It’s me. We’re getting the band back together. I’ll explain in detail once this Rant fades to black.

[Fade to black.]

Death rant Death, e-fed, e-wrestling, parody, The Great, wrestling

Katie Death, a zombie who dresses in a cheerleader uniform, was washing the dishes with blood in the sink when her husband, Death, walked into the room. God’s Hitman opened up the refrigerator, looked around, and then slammed the door shut.

“Why is there never any food in this house? I have Snore Games coming up in just a couple of weeks, and I need to bribe The Great with food apparently so he won’t do a job for the either Steve Studnuts, Trey Vincent, Sarah “The Jobber Slayer,” Seth Harker, or Dr. Silaconne M. Plants apparently now, too. And I still haven’t figured out what to bribe my other teammates with. Let’s see…write this down. Let’s see, for Trable…how about some fried chicken, watermelon, and grape juice? For Jerri Li? Hmm. Some Jagged Metal Krusty-O’s and battery acid. Kid Pirate probably likes booze. Rum. Hell, how about some peg leg polish as well. Did you get all that, Katie?”

“Braains!” Katie roared.

“Why do you make everything so hard except right here,” Death said, performing a crotch chop in his wife’s direction.

“Braaaains!” Katie replied.

“Is this mansion not big enough for you? What about all those dead people stacked in the meat locker? Where’s the respect for Death?”

“Braaaaains!”

“Did you at least dry clean my wrestling cloak.”

“Brains.”

“Son of a…” Death started before pounding his bony fist on the countertop. “I’VE HAD IT UP TO HERE, KATIE!”

“Brains brains brains brains brains brains!”

“What does this have to do with my yacht? Don’t I deserve a little ME time? I work my fingers to the bone…wait, they already are bone. I work my bones to the…you know what I mean! I work non-stop for the Big Guy who created this universe. He created you for ME, not me for YOU! You’re just a bit player.”

“Uhhhhh~!”

“It’s ironic. I figured I would’ve been the one to kill this relationship…”

“Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains!”

“You want out? That’s FINE with me!”

Katie Death shuffles away to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She grabs a framed picture of Zombie Mr. Fantastic off her dresser.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Meanwhile, outside, Death has his scythe and begins bashing a trash barrel with the handle. After several seconds of clatter, Death looks up and notices a zombie eating somebody’s face in the street. Both are starting at him curiously.

“Help me?” the victim gurgled out, blood oozing from everywhere on his (or her?) face.

“Rar?” the zombie queried.

“Sorry, Face Eater. Go about your business.”

The zombie continued eating the victim’s face as Death threw his trash back into the trash bucket. One of the plastic bags ripped and several cans fell out with a dull clatter as they hit the driveway. Brains In A Can. It was eerily silent — as long as you ignored the dying screams and disgusting face-eating noises in the background.

“And she can’t even recycle on top of everything else?”

Death rant Death, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, e-wrestling, efed, Jerri Li, Kid Pirate, parody, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer", seth harker, Steve Studnuts, The Great, Trey Vincent, wrestling, XFactor Pete Trable

[We open on a sign: Reb's Turkey Farm. The camera pans left to reveal several turkeys wandering around in the darkness, along with a taller figure hooded figure. Why, it's none other than Death. He is creeping up on one unsuspecting turkey eating some feed in the dirt. Suddenly, Death dives.]

Turkey: *Gobble gobble*

Death: Damn it. I’ve never had to kill an animal before.

[Death dusts himself off.]

Death: Why couldn’t BOB afford that helicopter and the shotgun. This would’ve been so much easier.

[Slowly, Death creeps toward the turkey again. Dives!]

Turkey: *Gobble gobble*

[Misses again.]

Farmer: Excuse me there, fella. What ya doin’ to my turkeys?

[Death turns around to see the farmer.]

Death: Well…if you must know, I’m trying to kill one of your turkeys.

Farmer: Really? Why? What did they do to you?

Death: Well, that one right there won’t let me kill it for starters…

Farmer: Are you trying to kill it, or, um, lay down with it.

Death: What? No! No, man. I kill things with my finger.

Farmer: Oh, are you Death himself?

Death: Guilty as charged.

Farmer: Well shoot, son, why didn’t you say so! You need a shotgun, Death.

Death: My company can’t afford a shotgun. I work for Brawlers On a Budget. And I really need to kill a turkey before October Surprise. I need to bribe The Great with it.

Farmer: The Great?

Death: Yeah. He’s this wrestler. Talks in third person. Apparently, he’ll job for food, so I’m hoping he WON’T job for food as well if I promise to cook him a turkey dinner.

Farmer: Um…Death. Now don’t kill me over this, but uh…why don’t you just go to a store and buy a turkey? They sell ‘em frozen. And heck, if you can kill anybody with your finger, you could just kill anybody who tries to stop you for shoplifting.

Death: …

[Death scratches his hooded skull. ]

Death: Fuck!

Turkey: *GOBBLE GOBBLE!*

*CRUNCH*

[Death and the farmer turn around at the odd sounds. A dark figure is attacking the turkey!]

Death: Hey!

??: Turkey…brains….uhhhhh….

*Shuffle shuffle shuffle*

Death: Zombie Mr. Fantastic! How dare you!

Farmer: What in the? He ate the turkey’s brains!

[The turkey's legs suddenly begin jerking.]

Farmer: Turkey zombie!

[The farmer runs away.]

Turkey Zombie: Gawwwwwwb. Gawwwwwb.

[Death grabs the zombie turkey by the legs.]

Death: Well, The Great. I hope you like your turkey, zombified. And I hope you will learn to trust me when we team up as the Greatful Dead at October Surprise against the iAd and Sarah. And as far as the Scrabble things on the next iMPLOSION goes. I’m most definitely not going to bomb like the Sin City Icons did yesterday! Bwahahahaha!

Turkey Zombie: Gawwwwwwb. Gawwwwwb.

*BANG*

[The zombie turkey flies out of Death's bony grasp.]

Death: What the hell was that? Great, now I have to go find another dead turkey to bribe The Great with. Thanks, Reb. I hope Katie knows how to cook one of these things.

Farmer: There’s nothing wrong with this ‘un. Just spit out the shrapnel.

[Death throws the turkey and walks away.]

Turkey Zombie: Gawwwwwwwwwwwwwwb. *twitch* *twitch*

Caption: THE END

?

Death rant Death, e-fed, parody, The Great, wrestling, Zombie Mr. Fantastic

Death was feeling nostalgic. He looked over various photos and random merchandise he collected over the years that never sold because BOB is terrible at running a profitable company. Ah, the good old days of the Skull & Bones Society. But now Death and Steve Studnuts will face each other for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. In a cage. On Total Non-Action Wrestling iMPLOSION 10.

“Them Bones” by Alice in Chains ringing on his cell phone agitated Death.

“Hello?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” came the reply, followed by wheezing.

“For the last time, this isn’t 976-HOTT.” Death hung up the phone.

Then the doorbell rang.

“I’ve got to get to Sin City. The show’s about to start. Now what?”

Death rushed to the door of his palatial estate. After a few seconds, he opened the door. A bald, veiny, pale mishapen creature stood on his front step with a handful of dead black roses.

“Hey, Death.”

“Tyrant. How’s it going?”

“Not bad. Got a delivery here for your wife.”

Death stared at Tyrant for several seconds.

“I don’t need a signature, I guess.”

Death stared at Tyrant.

“So, I guess there’s no tip?”

Death stared at Tyrant.

“C’mon, man. I’ve got two Cerberus’s to feed. Have a heart.”

“I don’t HAVE a heart.”

“Do I have to kick your ass?” Tyrant asked, tossing the flowers down.

“I don’t have an ass.”

“I’ll skin you alive!”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Death said with a chuckle. “Wait. Steve? Studnuts?”

“No. Tyrant! Remember?”

“Oh. You just sounded like some other jacked up idiot who won’t ever be able to conquer me. My bad.”

“Hmm. Why do I feel like I’ve been used as a prop in a roleplay?”

“That’s YOUR issue, man. Not mine. And who sent the dead black roses?”

“I think it was Zorro.”

Tyrant handed Death a small envelope. After a rip and a poof, Death shook out a card. The inside of the card was simply signed with a bloody “Z.” Oh, and a piece of tongue.

“Vincent van Zombie?” Tyrant asked.

Once again, “Them Bones” on his cell phone played.

“Hello?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” came the reply, followed by wheezing.

Death hung up. Tyrant stared at him.

“You’re waiting for a tip, aren’t you? Fine.”

Death reached into his cloak. Instead of money, Tyrant received a middle finger salute. Then the door was slammed shut in his face.

Death rant Death, e-fed, parody, Steve Studnuts, wrestling

[A bar? But not just any bar. This is the bar where Death got his big break in the wrestling business. He appeared in his first wrestling promo at this bar many years ago. OK, "big break" is probably pushing it, considering the promo appeared in Metal Edge Wrestling. But you have to start at the bottom, right? Anyway, it looks even more piss stained and decrepit than it did then. The bar area is empty, except for one tall figure wearing a cloak. A bony hand snatches a bottle of beer off the bar. After guzzling it for several seconds, Death's custom-made cloak is soaked with beer.]

Death: You know….

[Death knee lifts the bar and notices he's all wet.]

Death: Sonofa! Who stole my skin! BWAHAHAHAHA!

Bartender: Alright, buddy. I think you’ve had just about—

[Death put a bony finger against the man's throat. Throat cancer. Instant death.]

Voice: The bartender’s dead! LET’S RIOT!

[Sounds of stampeding drunks and crashing furniture.]

Death: Uh oh.

[8 hours later. We return to the scene. Bodies are down everywhere. Looks like Death was busy.]

Death: Me? They did it to themselves. Well, except for that old guy there. He just really annoyed me. Well, now I know why they call them riots. That was hilarious! Although, now there’s not a drop of booze left in the place! Pure hell, right, Trey? It’s like your worst nightmare. A bar without beer. That’s exactly what it’s gonna be like for you at Running On Empty, buddy. Mr. Sports Entertainment Icon. Mr. Franchise Player. Mr. Vice President in Charge of Everything.

Death: Everyone knows I was the brains behind the Skull & Bones Society. And with my newest buddy, Kurt Angel, you know, that guy who beat you for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS before he ascended to Heaven, a.k.a., Action Wrestling? We’ve formed the Skull & Stoned Society. Theoretically. Not that we’ve worked out any details, but I’m pretty sure we’re cool. I’ll have to check with the guy who runs this place. And I’m not talking about YOU, Trey. You’re just a puppet. And it’s a good thing I’ve got the right to bear arms, cuz I’m shooting, baby!

Death: Anyway…you’re scum. Yadda yadda yadda. Trey, after you die, you’ll be sent to sports entertainment hell, where you’ll be forced to watch CircularAnswer Rants for all eternity. I have more talent in my one finger than you have in your whole body. I have a license to kill. Seriously…

[Death digs in his cloak.]

Death: It’s expired? Oh man. Trey, you and my license are gonna have a lot in common! You’re both gonna be expired! Yeah, come and arrest me for killing without a license, copper!

[How much did you have to drink, Death?]

Death: And Zombie Mr. Fantastic! Quit calling my zombie cheerleader nurse wife! For the last time, Katie’s not interested! *Shakes his bony fist in the air*

Death: And Studnuts, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. Wait, what was I talkin’ about?

[Death tips over. Fade to blackout.]

Death rant BOB Wrestling, Death, e-fed, e-wrestling, Kurt Angel, parody, Steve Studnuts, Trey Vincent, Zombie Mr. Fantastic

“Oh, cerebrum breath, what have you done?” asked Death.

“Brains, brains?” replied the zombie cheerleader.

“Yes, you, Katie Vicks-Death. Pardon my clunky exposition, especially since you know all this, but there are cops searching our palatial estate here in Raccoon City, which i bought for us after we got married and which also explains why you haven’t been seen in BOB for a long while. Do we have kennels? They say you’ve been doing some illegal dead dog fighting.”

“Brains.”

“I have a tag match coming up against Steve Studnuts at Power is Stolen. I don’t have time to worry about being in-die-ted.”

No reaction from Katie.

“Oh, COME ON! You never laugh at any of my jokes.

“Brains?”

“I’ll brain you. I just can’t figure who tipped off the police to your racket.”

“Brains brains?”

“No, not Jim Cornette. I swear, you’re supposed to be barefoot and eating babies. Why can’t you just be a normal zombie wife?”

“Brains brains brains brains brains brains? Brains brain brains brains brains brains brains.”

“Oh, right. Then we can do some dead PIG fighting! BWAHAHAHA! Ah, I kill me, which, as always, is completely ironic. Speaking of killing in the name of, Steve Studnuts? I can beat you with the next person who walks through my front door. I don’t care if it’s a cop, our dead zombie gardener, or the mailman from the dead letter office. I’m just gonna sit back and wait…”

Death and Katie take a seat on the couch and stare at the front door.

“I SAID, THE NEXT PERSON WHO WALKS THROUGH THE DOOR!”

Nothing.

Death pulls out his cell phone. “Hang on…”

Death rant Death, e-fed, ewrestling, parody, Steve Studnuts, wrestling

By Haywood Jablome
FP Writer

WASHINGTON – Death, the former Brawlers On a Budget ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, has endorsed assisted suicide advocate Jack Kevorkian’s plan to run for Congress, one which complicates a Michigan race that is expected to be among the most competitive in the nation.

The so-called “Dr. Death,” who was released from prison last year and remains on parole, will run as a candidate with no party affiliation for a congressional seat representing Detroit’s suburbs, an associate said.

“You know…there’s been a lot of talk about change in this election,” said Death. “But I believe we need to hear more about death in this election. Who is going to kill the most constituents? I say, Jack! Because everyone knows, politics is all about who can kill the most people with the stroke of a pen. Why elect an amateur when you can hire the real deal?”

Kevorkian is hoping for some honesty in government. He plans to focus on prison reform and bringing integrity to the government. The retired pathologist was not available, but is expected to make formal announcement next week.

“I’m hopeful that Jack will make a special appearance with me at BOB’s debut broadcast on G5 TV, ‘Total Non-Action Wrestling iMPLOSION,’ when I defeat Kid Pirate,” Death continued. “It’ll make a killing in the ratings!”

Death lost the OWTTM at Totally Dead last month.

“I may just introduce Trey Vincent and Sarah ‘The Jobber Slayer’ to my paroled buddy,” Death added with a chuckle. “Trey and Sarah sitting in a tree…d-y-i-n-g. Sarah, I’m gonna give you the deadliest fingerbang of your life! And Trey? You’re gonna play the part of Rover, and get a bone of your own.”

Death rant Death, e-fed, parody, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer", Trey Vincent, wrestling

[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!

[Fade.]

Death rant Death, e-fed, e-wrestling, Jim "Totally Packaged", parody, Trey Vincent, wrestling

[Cut to a hotel in San Diego, California. A guy badly in need of a haircut is wearing headphones and rocking out to Slipknot's "Duality" and typing away on a laptop...wait. Wrong scene...Fade to black.]

[Fade in on New Hampshire. Death is holding a "Vote For Ron Paul - Or DIE" campaign sign with one bony hand and sipping from a coffee mug with his other hand. Alex Smith is bullhorning beside him about the usual, no doubt as the sound fades up.]

Death: You know something, Alex? Somebody from BOB is here with a camera. Granted, it’s a cell phone camera…

AS: It’s about time! It’s the Ron Paul revolution! And it begins right here in the Live Free or Die state!

Death: Right, right. I plan to make that come true. But I’ve got a bigger problem than this little podunk primary.

AS: Podunk?

[Alex holds up an "Expose the 9/11 Coverup" sign. Much like the kind that managed to get on the air during a crowd shot during ABC's presidential debate Saturday night. Odd coincidence? Or not...]

Death: Alex, you need to be my fodder for this promo. That’s the only reason I agreed to hold this sign for you.

AS: Hold on…Aren’t you supposed to be my mortal enemy?

Death: Yeah, right. Like you’ll ever get to the main event scene. You’re just a bit player here.

AS: Hey, man, I still have feelings.

Death: No you don’t.

AS: Fine. What’s the problem?

Death: The Great has delivered two promos. I feel a tad burned out. Katie’s dragged me to her in-laws. And now she’s dragging me to a zombie conference in Raccoon City. I’m wiped out, Alex. All this AND I have to keep killing people. How am I supposed to retain this title against The Great as well?

AS: Did you know Mike Huckabee is a CFR stooge?

Death: Uh…yeah. What’s that have to do with me?

AS: And so is Edwards.

Death: *Sigh* One world government, yadda yadda yadda. What about the conspiracy against me? I’m burnt out, Alex! I need a vacation.

AS: I hear San Diego is nice this time of year. Not including yesterday, when it rained all day. I bet anybody who went to the zoo got mighty wet.

Death: Well, hopefully that person didn’t get crapped on by a bird.

AS: Yeah, with a promo like this, you’re screwed, Death. It’s going to take a conspiracy of New World Order proportions to keep that title around your…pelvis?

Death: But I have experience! I kill everybody.

AS: The people want change!

Death: Am I the status quo? Am I Hillary?

AS: You guys are all on the same team. Just like in BOB, Axl’s Hierarchy crew is demanding change, the people out here are demanding change from the status quo of elite bootlicking scum!

Death: The Great’s not in the Hierarchy.

AS: Or is he?

Death: OK. Well…I need to score some more NyQuil. The Great? Just remember this…I don’t really think you have a shot at winning our contest. Because you’re going into a fight with the establishment. And the establishment always wins. How else can you explain McCain leading in this state?

AS: Aside from stupidity? McCain is a liar! Guiliani is a liar! Romney is a liar! In Paul we trust!

Death: *Ahem* Hell, even on my WORST day, I’m the Death there is, the Death there was, and the Death there ever will be. SMP couldn’t beat me. That wigger guy I beat couldn’t beat me. And…I’m pretty sure you can’t beat me. No matter how funny your promos are.

AS: Uh, Death? Funny matters here in BOB.

Death: I better visit the ATM before New Horizon. I’ve got a BigBOSS to bribe…

[Fade.]

Death rant Alex Smith, Axl, Death, e-fed, ewrestling, parody, The Great, wrestling

[Scene opens in Alex Trebek's hospital room. It's nighttime, and there is only the dull glow of a fluorescent light.]

*Beep….beep…beep…beep…*

[That beeping sound is Alex's heartbeat. Not too bad for a guy who had a mild heart attack. In the corner of the room opposite the bed, a pair of bony fingers are seen wrapped around a copy of the LA Times. The paper lowers a tad to reveal the familiar skull of none other than the BOB ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, Death. He's seated in a chair with his bony legs crossed. Death flips a page, making a crinkly noise.]

*Beep…beep….beep…beep….*

[Death continues to finger through the newspaper, listening to the beeping heart monitor.]

*Beep…………beep……………..*

[Death lowers the newspaper and sits forward, expectantly.]

*Beep….beep….beep….beep*

[Death slouches a bit, perhaps in disappointment, and returns to his newspaper.]

Death: *Sigh*

*Beep….beep….beep….beep*

[Death pulls out an mp3 player and a pair of earphones, ready to crank up some tunes. It's almost MegaBrawl, no doubt Death is thinking, since I'm omniscient. So...how about some Megadeth? What to listen to? "Killing Is My Business...And Business Is Good"? "Wake Up Dead"? "Kill The King"? "Die Dead Enough"?]

Death: Oh, yes! Score!

*Beep….beep….beep….beep*

Death: (Singing) One, two, princes kneel before you, thats what I said, now…Princes, princes who adore you…just go ahead, now. One has diamonds in his pockets…that sounds great, now. This one, said he wants to buy you lockets…ain’t in his head, now…

*Beep….beep….beep….beep*

[Fade to black.]

Death rant Death, e-fed, e-wrestling, parody, wrestling