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To be… or not to be. Crazy.

February 16th, 2009
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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

Take out my fucken jugular

January 14th, 2009
Comments Off on Take out my fucken jugular

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is seen sitting in what appears to be a waiting room, more apparent after a woman in tight fitting neon green scrubs sticks her head out of a nearby door…]

Nurse: Mr. Donally, the surgeon will see you now.

[A man walks in front of the camera focused on SMP, he’s dressed in camouflage and has an arrow lodged in his left ass cheek.]

Nurse: I hate bow season…

[Moments later, another woman leans through the door…]

Nurse: Mrs. Farga, the surgeon will see you now.

[A woman walks by Plants, her wrists are bleeding profusely and veins can be seen hanging out in all directions. Coincidence? Probably. Finally, a third nurse in pink scrubs also appears at the door.]

Nurse: Dr. Plants? We have a surgeon that would like to talk with you.

[SMP saunters down a hall and into a small room on the right.]

Nurse: Wait here, he’ll be with you shortly.

[SMP waits patiently, rubbing his neck while reading a generic magazine placed in the exam room to stave off boredom. Within minutes, a doctor-type guy walks in.]

Surgeon: Welcome, Dr. Plants. Nice to have a fellow surgeon as a patient. I’ll take extra special care of you, you know how we like to treat our own and all the other patients are just numbers and complaints and names without faces, right? * wink *

[He laughs at his own remark, Plants acknowledges the rib with a nod.]

Surgeon: What can I do for you today?

[The Doc tosses the magazine aside, and with all the composure he can muster…]

SMP: I need you to remove my jugular.

Surgeon: Come again?

SMP: Take out my fucken jugular.

Surgeon: There’s no need for profanity, sir. Wait, did you say fucken or fucking?

SMP: Yes. My fucken jugular. With an “e-n”. That’s correct. I need you to remove it.

Surgeon: Umm, you realize that will kill you.

SMP: No, you misunderstood. Leave the regular jugular. Remove the fucken jugular. I can live on one, right?

Surgeon: You ARE a doctor, am I correct in that assumption?

SMP: Yes, but I’m a plastic surgeon. Breasts.

Surgeon: So, you don’t really count as a medical doctor?

SMP: Technically, I do. But for the sake of this promo let’s pretend I don’t know a thing about real doctoring.

Surgeon: You don’t seem as though you know much about augmentations, either.

SMP: That’s beside the point. Can you help me?

[The surgeon looks at Plants as if wondering whether or not he’s serious.]

Surgeon: I suppose.

SMP: Then take out my fucken jugular. If I don’t have my fucken jugular, American Panda can’t eat my fucken jugular, take my ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS, and liberate pandas across the globe in a fucken jugular eating frenzy. I’m saving the planet, Doc. The survival of the human race is counting on my defeating American Panda.

Surgeon: This…. is a REAL panda you’re talking about?

SMP: Yes.

Surgeon: Defeating you?

SMP: Yes, in a professional wrestling match. I’m the “Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer in Wrestling Today™”, heard of me?

Surgeon: No. But I’m interested in your wrestling a panda. A real panda bear?

SMP: Yes, he said he was going to eat my fucken jugular.

Surgeon: He [i]said[/i] that? * ahem * You don’t need a surgeon, you need a psychiatrist.

SMP: Can he remove my fucken jugular? Just the fucken jugular, that’s all.

Surgeon: Listen, there’s the external jugular vein, which is formed by the junction of the posterior auricular and the retromandibular veins, passes down the side of the neck superficial to the sternocleidomastoid muscle, and empties into the subclavian vein. Then there’s the two internal jugular veins which collect the blood from the brain, the superficial parts of the face, and the neck. Of course, you can’t overlook the anterior jugular vein that arises below the chin from the veins draining the chin and lower lip, passes down the front of the neck superficially, and terminates in the external jugular vein at the lateral border of the anterior scalene muscle. Okay? There’s no ”fucken” jugular.

SMP: Can you put that in writing and send it to American Panda? If he thinks I don’t have one, maybe he won’t bite me.

Surgeon: Are you serious?

SMP: YES! Did you see his GRAPHS?

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 week?

No?
Next week?

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 next week then…

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! 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 next week and, uhrah… remove that pesky fucken jugular for you.

SMP: Thank you so much! You’re aces, kid!

[SMP jumps up and runs out of the office with renewed vigor. Wait awaits the “Sinister Surgeon©” next week? Will he survive fucken jugular removal?]

SMP: Shut up, narrator guy! Drastic means calls for drastic measures! Not just Chinese pandas… ALL PANDAS MUST DIE!

rant

panda…. monium?

January 10th, 2009

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants and Nurse Heidi are located in Plants’ new office, “Leave it to Cleavage”, the smell of new paint and non-descript floor polisher clings in the air. Dr. Plants looks visibly nervous as he watches a brand new Sharp – AQUOS 65″ Class 1080p Flat-Panel LCD HDTV which he purchased for just over (including tax) four grand after winning THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS as a gift to himself. Using his gate purse collected at MEGABRAWL II, it’s estimated The Doc still owes roughly $3,910.

This is not what bothers “The Smooth Operator®”, however, but what he’s watching does…]

Nurse Heidi

BEIJING (Jan. 8th) — Gu Gu the panda has struck again, mauling someone who jumped a barrier to retrieve a child’s toy, in his third attack on a visitor at the Beijing zoo.

A tourist from China’s Anhui province went over a 4-foot, 7-inch barrier surrounding the panda’s outdoor exercise area Wednesday to retrieve a toy dropped by his 5-year-old son, said a zoo spokeswoman surnamed Gong.

SMP: Pffft. Gong? What a stupid name!

[Nurse Heidi secretly gives him a “looks who’s talking” glance…]

The 240-pound Gu Gu bit the intruder’s legs and refused to let go until zookeepers pried his jaws open with tools, said Gong, who would not give her full name as is common among Chinese officials.

SMP: Full name? How much you want to bet her first name is Banga?

NH: Sil? I can tell you’re nervous, you always make fun of other people when you’re nervous…

[Plants then buries himself back into watching the news.]

The Beijing News identified the man as Zhang Jiao, and quoted tourists as saying Zhang appeared to first look around to check if there were pandas nearby before jumping the barrier.
Gu Gu first made news in 2007 when he bit a drunken tourist who jumped into his pen and tried to hug him. The tourist retaliated by biting the bear in the back.

[Dr. Plants quickly pulls out his day planner and begins scribbling some notes.]

In October, Gu Gu viciously bit a teenager who climbed into his exercise area out of curiosity.

The Beijing News said the latest victim suffered damage to major ligaments and is recovering from surgery.

Pandas, generally considered cute, can nonetheless be violent when provoked or startled. Zoo officials have considered unspecified measures to prevent further incidents.

[Dr. Plants turns off the set with a remote located on his desk.]

SMP: Did you see that? Pandas are dangerous. I’m not wrestling American Panda. I ain’t gonna do it.

NH: Huh? Why are you worried about that? That’s almost a month and a half away! You have to defend your tag-team titles at iMPLOSION! 15 before that against Largeman and The Wiz.

[SMP’s face contorts into that familiar “What the fuck did you say?” expression.]

SMP: Who?

NH: Thomas Largeman and The Wiz.

SMP: Are those alias of John Hennigan and Mike Mizanin?

NH: Ummm, no. John Morrison is not Thomas Largeman. And I said The Wiz, not The Miz.

SMP: Too bad it ain’t him. Mizanin? He sucks. I’m pretty sure I can beat him. So, who is this Wiz? Richard Pryor? I thought he was dead. I hope it is him, I’m pretty sure I can beat a dead guy.

NH: No, no, no. It’s not Richard Pryor playing the wizard in an urbanized retelling of L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz featuring an entirely African-American cast. It’s…well, he’s a wizard. That smokes pot. And does other wizardry things, I guess.

SMP: Can he cast spells?

NH: I don’t know.

SMP: Can he do magic?

NH: His bio claims he can…

SMP: Can he make titles disappear?

NH: Umm, I suppose you can do that without magic.

SMP: What about James Varga? Can he make HIM disappear?

[Nurse Heidi looks baffled.]

SMP: Listen, if you’re going to be my evil valet, you have to do better research of my opponents. At MEGABRAWL, I turned heel, remember? We have to do naughty stuff. Bend the rules, be controversial.

NH: Oh yeah, like you did over at eWmania? I knew you’d go over there and cause a scene.

SMP: A scene? I just wanted the guy to answer a question he had no answer to because he knew he was wrong. That’s all. And I get lambasted for that? It’s ridiculous! And to think after all that he was going to judge the eWmania title defense and be unbiased? Yeah, right!

[SMP stops mid thought and scratches his chin…]

And yeah, I’m affected by what’s written on an online forum just as much as other people are that threaten to banish me from the site for asking a simple question. Your opinion matters more than you think. It sucks that I feel that way, huh? Go back and look at how the tournament unfolded and tell ME it was LEGIT. You’re a fool if you do. Zero influence MY ASS!

[The Doc throws his remote off his table.]

SMP: Fellow BoBster? How dare you throw that up at me! You’ve been here, what? A month?

NH: Umm, Sil?

SMP: Yeah…

NH: What are you rambling about? I thought this was about American Panda? Let’s get back on track here.

SMP: I’m not wrestling a goddamn panda.

NH: But he IS American. Gu Gu is Chinese, and Chinese pandas are much more sinister. It’s common knowledge. American Panda is educated, I mean… he can talk and everything.

SMP: HE….ATE…..LUKE WARM! I ain’t gonna do it!

NH: Well, you have to. It’s booked for Bearly Legal.

SMP: Subtitled Gu Gu Cachoob? I ain’t doing it! He’s going to eat my fucken jugular.

NH: Sil? Calm down…

SMP: I know, I’ll wear a kevlar turtle neck into the ring. I’ll bring tranquilizers in a syringe and stab him unmercifully. See? I have one right here…

[A crusty looking, old fisherman walks into the office.]

Fisherman: You get that tiny needle into his skin?

SMP: No, but if he gets close enough, I can get it into his mouth…

Fisherman: What’s this other stuff you have here?

SMP: Anti-Panda cage!

Fisherman: You go into the cage? Cage goes into the ring? Panda in the ring? OUR panda? (singing) Farewell, and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies… farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain…

SMP: GET OUTTA HERE, QUINT!

[The Fisherman leaves, now with a hook for a hand ‘cause he knows what you did last summer.]

SMP: And if all this wasn’t bad enough, I heard John Cena was coming here! Yeah, like HE won’t demand a push…

NH: That’s just a rumor…

SMP: It’s a conspiracy! They’re out to get me! I’m telling you, Heidi, I’ll never make it to March Madness. I blame Leary! It’s all his fault! He’s the one that said I was spoiled! Fantasy Football championship, eWmania championship, turns out the only thing I won was what I booked myself!

NH: You’re being too hard on yourself. You deserved the OWTTM. Now, you simply have to defend it. And the tag-team titles. And umm, the Swiss Army Belt.

SMP: I can’t do all that! No wonder I bowed out of the bogus eWmania title match under the guise of a legit contest. I have other work to do! How much do you think a lifetime supply of bamboo costs?

NH: No idea…

SMP: Well find out! And I need a tag-team partner for !MPLOSION! 15. Hey, maybe American Panda? Yeah!

He can eat Thomas Largeman and The Wizard and be too full for Bearly Legal to eat me! He’ll still be digesting them, right? I’m a genius! Call him and set it up!

NH: Does he even have a phone?

SMP: I don’t know, you’re better at the technical stuff than I am. Get to work on it! I have to go find out when Cena is coming…

NH: (sarcastically rolling her eyes) Oh good grief… I’ll see what I can do.

[Heidi leaves the office, SMP stares directly into the camera.]

SMP: It’s going to be panda-monium at Bearly Legal!
One way…. or the other…

[Camera fades on SMP’s snarling grimace.]

rant

Anything Is Possible!

November 5th, 2008
Comments Off on Anything Is Possible!

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

(Meanwhile, a day later…SMP and Nurse Heidi are watching the EXTENSIVE MEDIA COVERAGE of last night’s election results. SMP has a strange grin on his face.)

NH: Sil? Why are you so happy? I thought you didn’t care about this election because all politicians are crooks. You voted?

SMP: Of course! And the outcome was incredible! Can you believe it? An African-American president? Anything is possible now! Like me winning the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS at MEGABRAWL II!

NH: BWAAA HAAA HAAAAAA!

SMP: What?

NH: I think having a black president, no matter how bizarre and impossible that seemed 40 years ago, is still more believable than you winning that title.

SMP: It’s a sign, I’m telling you. I just hope I don’t become Sil the Plumber.

NH: Huh?

SMP: Obama’s tax plan, remember Joe the Plumber?

NH: No, I thought you were going into a new profession. Like anybody wants to see YOUR ass crack.

SMP: Why is that associated with plumbers? That’s stereotyping!

NH: Like fried chicken in the White House?

SMP: WHAT?! You can’t say that!

NH: Well, isn’t it the same?

SMP: That’s more like racial profiling…

NH: Toe-MAY-toe, toe-MAH-toe…

SMP: Well, whatever. I still think it’s good luck for me. History is on my side. Things that never happen are happening. Karma is alive and well. Did you know that whenever the Washington Redskins lose their final home game in an election year, the incumbent party loses? That happened. Steelers beat them Monday night in D.C.

Did you know that when a guy puts a curse on another guy’s logo, his fantasy team loses?

A black president… ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!

NH: Like you winning the eWmania tournament?

SMP: Oh no… I’m SO losing that. But the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS? It just may be MY year…

GET IT?

GOT IT?

GOOD!

(SMP plops the Swiss Army Belt over his shoulder, the cork screw pops out of it and jabs him in the eye.
Quick fade as Nurse Heidi administers first aid and buddy care.)

rant , , , , , ,

Greatest…day…ever?

October 13th, 2008
Comments Off on Greatest…day…ever?

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[Dr. Silaconne M.Plants is sitting at his desk, his feet propped up on it, at one of augmentation clinics avoiding paperwork as per usual. His phone rings.]

SMP: “Titties’ R Us”, a subsidiary of “A Girl’s Breast Friend”, this is Doctor Plants, may I help you?

[He pauses to listen.]

SMP: No, I can’t guarantee my work.

[He pauses again.]

SMP: Did I once have a patient of mine’s boobie resemble Dolph Lundgren’s haircut in Rocky IV after I, umm… augmentationed her? Total urban legend, I assure you.

[More pausing.]

SMP: You’ll pay more with them. And I HAVE gotten better, you know? Huh? That’s not a lie. Hardly no complaints for weeks.

[He listens some more.]

SMP: Listen lady, I only took this call to pass as a promo since I’m always getting clowned for not doing any. But that’s fine, if you want to go to “Fun Bags 4 Less” that’s up to you. It’s your dime. If you want to pay out the whazoo mcdaniel for a poor boob job I can do at half the price that’s totally your call.

[He holds the phone from his ear as yelling can be heard from inside it. After a few moments, he places it back to his face.]

SMP: Perfectly fine with me. I hope they fall off! *hangs up*

Nurse Heidi

[As Plants props his feet up again, and oddly grins for seemingly no reason, Nurse Heidi walks in carrying several envelopes and a wrapped package in the shape of a video cassette.]

NH: Hi Sil. Hey, what’s with you? I overheard your call. How can you be happy? I thought losing potential customers drove you nearly Benoit.

SMP: This is, without a doubt, the most wonderful day ever. On the heels of !MPLOSION! 12, I must be the happiest man alive. For one, Luke Warm, one of my on-again-off-again most bitter rivals is out of the promotion. That’s right, the Thirstiest S.O.B. in BOB is gone forever having been eaten by a panda bear, and two, I ended the career of the Gay-i-est F.A.G. in BOB the old fashioned way on the same night… by simply kicking his ass. Couple that by being the Acting VP in Charge of Everything in BOB, how could I possibly be bothered by ANYTHING remotely considered a downer?

NH: Yeah, that was sad what happened to Luke. I’m going to miss him.

SMP: Well I’m not!

NH: Are you serious? I thought you guys were friends now.

SMP: What? No way! Let me go on record as saying I have nothing to do with Luke Warm, if for no other reason than to avoid being eaten alive by association. Whose dumb idea was it to hire a panda to wrestle in BOB anyway? He could kill us all! Which reminds me, I wonder if while I’m acting VPiCoE if I can book douja for a one shot deal against American Panda. I mean, it wouldn’t be like I killed him, right?

NH: Speaking of killing people, look who’s talking, chainsaw boy. I can’t believe you did that to those jobbers. Especially poor SuperGluey. He wasn’t as sticky as everyone thought he was. *ahem* Uh-rah…*blushes* Never mind.

SMP: Hold on a minute, I didn’t do anything to those guys. If you read closely, I was clean as a whistle when I walked out of there.

NH: Whatever! I still think it was horrible.

SMP: Horrible was having those guys on the roster. Nic Flare? Pfffft! Those guys had to meet CHAINSAW MEAT HOOK SODOMY OF UNSPEAKABLE TERROR. Man, I loved those descriptions! Whoever came up with those is a pure genius! I just wish I was more hands on with that, because I wasn’t, you know?

NH: Well, what about Axl then? You’re certainly responsible for that. I mean, I know the guy was a butthole and all, but ending his career? At least he tried to compete.

SMP: He had to go. That chump was becoming Neige Fourteen! Seriously, he wanted to turn BOB into an angle fed, where we write our own matches and do our own storylines. He would have become unbeatable with that kind of stroke. He’d have pushed himself to the moon and the matches would have become very boring, like those UnFed matches. That guy was a loser, is a loser, and will always be a LOSER. I should have invited him to the chainsaw give-away! What was I thinking?

[SMP contemplates his gaffe.]

SMP: Oh well, I don’t have to worry about him anymore. Puh-lease… Angle fed? I’m glad it didn’t come to that, he’d have become the ultimate abuse of power!

NH: Really? Just him? So what’s that in front of YOU then?

[The camera zooms in on a piece of paper in front of SMP that’s titled “MEGABRAWL II MAIN EVENT.”]

SMP: Oh this? It’s nothing, nothing at all. Just a little something for somebody I plan on having a little fun with, by ummm…. “doctoring” his contract for MEGABRAWL.

NH: Mmm-hmm. You’re not doing what I think you’re doing are you?

SMP: Hey now, I’m only AVPiCoE for two weeks. Time is a factor. I have to act now while that acting’s good. They don’t call me the “Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer in Wrestling Today®” for nothing. I was the king of a land with no people once before, why not do it twice?

NH: You’re going to put your name on that contract, aren’t you?

SMP: Of course not! *looks around nervously* You’re not going to tell anybody, right?

NH: You’re despicable!

SMP: Can you say that again, but just like Daffy Duck this time?

NH: No, absolutely not. By the way, here’s your mail.

[She shoves a stack of envelopes at him. He begins sorting though the pile.]

SMP: Bill.*throws it on the floor* Bill.*throws it on the floor* Bill.*throws it on the floor* Bill. I’ll pay that one next week.*throws it on the floor* Bill.*throws it on the floor* Bill.*throws it on the floor* Bill.*throws it on the floor* Bill? What’s this? They’re charging ME for that fancy sign I wore on my chest for the !MPLOSION! 12 splash? *opens the envelope* 27 bucks?! Are you kidding me?

NH: Here’s more bad news, this one is from Steve Studnuts.

[She hands him the wrapped package.]

SMP: It looks like a video cassette.

[He opens it, sure enough, it’s a video. He reads the label.]

SMP: “Heidi’s Anatomy”? It must be a documentary or maybe a medical training seminar. Good! I could use this!

NH: HEY! THAT’S FOR ME!

[She grabs the tape and runs off.]

SMP: What are you doing? I read Steve’s promo when he sent that like two months ago. I’ve been waiting for that! HEY! Come back!

[SMP doesn’t try to chase her. He simply sits back at his desk and props his feet up.]

SMP: Damn post office. They’re getting as slow and lazy as my handler lately.

[SMP yells at Heidi, who’s probably half way across town by now, followed by a stream of video tape from a disemboweled casette.]

SMP: If there’s any augmentation tips on there, please let me know! Oh well, I’ll see her later…

[He opens another letter and begins to read.]

SMP: Latest from MB:

Also, do you know if Dave still wants to write Nitro, or did he tell you he didn’t want be involved? He’s either not been on messanger in a while, or he’s blocked me…

It seems like every time I try to do better, I manage to screw it up. Now even Dave seems to dislike me. I guess ending my “career” with e-mail rp’s and no ooc pretty much serves me right for all the things I’ve done wrong in my past 8 years of fedding.

And trust me, I’m not being facetious. It’s just… every time I think I’m going to be able to change, it ends up lasting only a few seconds… and then everything goes back in the shitter.

I don’t think things are ever going to look up.

[SMP looks around the room, his eyes darting left and right as his cheeks balloon from the impending explosion.]

SMP: BWAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! OH… MY…. GOD! BWAAAAA HAAA! My sides hurt! They’re splitting! BWAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

[Fade out to SMPROTFLHFAO.]

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Back in the Saddle?

August 27th, 2008

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is in a non descript location, in front of non descript characters, doing non descript things.

Actually, he has an agenda. Since it’s been roughly 2 1/2 years since his last promo, he wants to come back with a vengeance.

He practices. He memorizes lines. He adds slight movements with his hands and legs to his delivery. He plays a ukelele. He jumps through a flaming hoop. He plays “Go Fish” with a deck of Candy Cantelopes cards. He finds a Native American and gives him a gift, then takes it back to give that old moniker a legitimate double meaning.

He talks for 25 minutes, then looks to the group of lookers-on. You know, those non descript ones.]

SMP: So, what did you think?

-It was too long. (Yes, these people are the penultimate non descript of non descriptedness. They don’t even get name abbreviated initials.

-Shorten it and make it funny.

SMP: Okay!

[12 minutes later.]

-Much better!

-I liked it!

SMP: So, did you like it?

-Yes, it was good.

SMP: Did you really like it?

-We said we liked it.

SMP: Really! You really liked it?

-Hey dude, are you related to Sally Field?

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Where he’s been?

August 14th, 2008
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Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[The camera pans over a night sky. Remnants of the meteor shower from the other night, which I forgot to go outside and look at, can still be seen. There’s a satellite or two shining brightly in the far reaches, and a blinking marker signifying a “red eye” flight. Look, there’s Uranus!

Suddenly, a whoosh of lights whiz by on a aircraft not of this world. A zoom towards one of the oval shaped windows, obviously made from a space-aged glass to resist breakage due to high speeds or crippled Soviet probes, appears a gloomy face.

An even closer zoom reveals the face to belong to Dr. Silaconne M. Plants.

Abduction?

Or maybe, just maybe, there’s an alien out there that required a shitty breast augmentation…

Could this EXPLAIN the reason for SMP’s lack of promos? Or is something more underhanded at work here?

What could be the cause of this?

Aliens wanting to explore and experiment on the human race yet again?

An evil plot to keep SMP from seeing that infamous tape?

Some might blame his lazy handler…

Yeah, that’s probably it.]

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The best promo ever!

July 8th, 2008
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Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

INSERT PROMO HERE. WHAT? YOU FORGOT? THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO WIN ME THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS! ………. D’OH!

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“Icon?” ruins “Idol?”

May 25th, 2008

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

LOS ANGELES – The grown-up rocker triumphed over the smooth-voiced kid as David Cook claimed the “American Idol” title Wednesday, and it wasn’t as much of a surprise as it seemed. However, a little known professional wrestler from a small time, and arguably low budget “promotion” caused several surprises of his own.

While the judges all but crowned 17-year-old David Archuleta the night before, the voters decided otherwise — and in a huge and unexpected way. Host Ryan Seacrest said before the results that that the margin was 12 million votes, and it turns out they broke in the favor of the 25-year-old from Blue Springs, Mo. Meanwhile, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, an aging grappler from Nipples, er Naples, Florida was crowning the night his own special way.

Plants, who was in the news several months ago after causing a ruckus during a studio taping of “Jeopardy!”, one in which had allegedly caused host Alex Trebek to have a heart attack, has once again shown that professional wrestlers from insignificant federations should not be allowed in public venues.

While Plants was disturbing the event backstage, Cook was overcome by emotion, bending toward the stage after his name was announced. When he stood up, his eyes were filled with tears, the second time in as many nights that the scruffy, grainy-voiced belter had broken down.

“This is amazing,” he said. “This is all your fault,” he added, addressing his brother, Andrew. The story goes that Cook was only tagging along with his sibling to the “Idol” auditions to lend support, and wound up getting on the show.

The festivities began innocent enough as Cook immediately took the microphone and began to sing “Time of my Life” by Nashville singer/songwriter Regie Hamm, winner of the annual “Idol” songwriting competition, to close out season seven.

Cook refused to bow to the conventional during his three-song set Tuesday, with Collective Soul’s “The World I Know” as his pick for a closing performance. He also sang U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” and the power ballad “Dream Big,” his choice from the songwriting competition’s non-winning finalists.

During the show, viewers got songs from runners-up including Syesha Mercado, who dueted with Seal on his song “Waiting for You,” and a solo on “Hallelujah” by dreadlocked Jason Castro.

Other “Idol” contestant and name-brand pairings: Cook with ZZ Top, Archuleta with OneRepublic, Bryan Adams with the top six male singers and Brooke White with Graham Nash.

“Brooke looks so much better than Crosby,” Nash quipped backstage, referring to bandmate David Crosby.

The Jonas Brothers got the stage to themselves for a performance.

“American Idol” also celebrated the awfulness that is part of the show, usually confined to the early auditions, with a performance by failed contestant Reynaldo Lapuz that threw in University of Southern California cheerleaders and marching band members. And this is where the proverbial “went to hell in a hand basket” part of the show occurred.

Plants, who was in the audience next to last year’s runner up Blake Lewis and former “Idol” reject William “She Bangs” Hung, took exception to Reynaldo’s butchery of his hand penned tune for controversial judge Simon Cowell. During the portion of the performance where the off-key Lapuz couldn’t even keep tempo with the band, Plants left his seat and somehow managed to get backstage by hiding under Season 2’s winner Ruben Studdard’s left titty.

After the dreadful “performance”, Plants met Reynaldo as he left the stage, kicked him in the stomach, and delivered a “wrestling finisher” Plants calls the “Med Degree”, his version of popular wrestler Hunter Hearst Helmsley’s (Jean Paul Levesque) maneuver christened the “Pedigree”.

Plants was heard by several bystanders as he stood over the prone Lupuz saying, “You couldn’t even sing the goddamn song WITH a band”!

No charges have been filed due to the fact when Reynaldo’s lawyer was contacted, he replied, “What defense do we have? Reynaldo sucks.”

Plants was in the news in a related incident less than a year ago when competing on a “Celebrity” show of “Jeopardy!” with fellow wrestlers Abdullah the Butcher (who chased a live chicken on the set) and former Florida State All-American Ron Simmons when Plants became enraged, flipped his podium, and wiped his own doo-doo on a door inside the studio.

Plants’ actions have been blamed for the cause of Trebek’s infarction that hospitalized the long-time host for several days.

Plants is also being looked at for being directly and/or indirectly responsible in some way to other tragedies ranging from China’s recent series of earthquakes, the four severed human feet found off the coast of British Columbia, rising gas prices, the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa, the Myanmar cyclone, helping R. Kelly conspire to literally piss on his fans, Watergate, the second gunman on the grassy knoll, to being responsible for the mega push of Hannah Montana merchandise.

Plants could not be reached for comment, but sources close to the self proclaimed “Sinister Surgeon” and “Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer in Wrestling” say that the doctor turned wrestler is aloof and “on-edge” recently after locker room rumors put his co-worker Nurse Heidi, who is also rumored to be in love with Dr. Plants, in a home made sex video with another wrestler. Luckily, it’s not Sean Waltman, but rather a wrestler who also works for the same promotion Plants is affiliated with.

The source says that despite on-going denials, Dr. Plants has feelings for his nurse, who works for him in a breast augmentation clinic as well as sometimes appearing as his valet at matches when she’s not doing ring introductions, and his bizarre behavior is related to the supposed sex tape and its actual existence.

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Semi-Final Saturday

April 5th, 2008
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Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants and Nurse Heidi are seen milling around the outside walkways of The Alamo Dome in San Antonio, Texas, along with thousands of other fans in a mixed sea of Memphis, Carolina, UCLA, and Kansas blue. Well, all except for Dr. Plants, who’s wearing a homemade, iron-on lettered t-shirt that reads, “I’m a famous pro wrestler, ask for my autograph.” Nurse Heidi sports her own non-team affiliated shirt, cut to show her midriff, with the phrase “You looked better on MySpace” stretched across her bosom. Neither one of them seem very happy waiting in a very long line for a generic three-point challenge.]

NH: Wow, this line is almost as long as…

SMP: HOLD ON! Let me fill in the blank. Since douja’s last RP?

NH: How about the debut of TNA !MPLOSION!? Are you sure they’re not calling that one Chinese Democracy?

SMP: How about, longer than Sir Hungalot’s wiener?

NH: (double takes) What? How would you know?

SMP: Hey, I’ve seen his movies. 10,000 inches B.C. is pretty good. The Bank Blow Job, Drillbit Nail Her, The Great Master Debaters, and Leather Dickheads are all must see.

NH: Well, don’t see There Will Be Blood (The Red Willy Saga). It’s really gross. Can’t we have three days out of the month without somebody wanting it?

SMP: I dunno. I wouldn’t think that you’d take three off.

NH: Yeah, you’re probably right. HEY! We moved a step up, but this line is still as long as…

SMP: The time between now and Axl’s last entertaining promo?

NH: Huh? He had one?

SMP: Well, no. Not really. Well… there was that one time…. nah.

NH: You should really quit picking on Axl. You better concentrate on your !MPLOSION! opponent. Wasn’t it Pete Trable?

SMP: Yeah. But he’s suspended. I think they might let him come back for the match and then suspend him again.

NH: Looks like they’d just make him wrestle and not pay him.

SMP: What punishment is that? They do that anyway.

NH: I know, right?!

[They high five.]

SMP: Hey, getting back to Axl. It’s a shame his last promo was just an April’s Fools prank. At least, I think it was. Or, it could have been just a lame way to get his Russo character back in BOB. Which would totally suck. By the way, did you notice that picture of Russo? Is it just me, or were his hands bigger than his head?

NH: I don’t know, I didn’t look at it.

SMP: Well you should. Pffft. Russo. Some people just never learn.

[Two teenagers approach the tandem, scraggly looking dudes, one with a greasy ponytail and the other with a Von Erich looking “hasn’t been cut in about 2 ½ years” shag. Neither looks to be very high on the evolution chain. The first kid reads Plants’ shirt, which is an accomplishment in its own right.]

Ponytail: So, you’re a famous pro wrestler? Which one?

NH: Heh. He’s not really a famous wrestler, he just plays one on television.

Shaggy guy: You must be rich or something, dude. How does an old guy like you get a hot chick like that?

SMP: I’m not that old.

Ponytail: Dude, you’re fucking old.

SMP: Language. Please? You’re in the presence of a lady.

Shaggy: Lady? Shit, she looks like she could suck a bowling ball through a fucking Hardee’s straw, brah. That ain’t no lady, she’s a damned skanky ho bag. She could probably suck a… dude, what’s really big?

Ponytail: A glacier, dude! Say a glacier!

Shaggy: Yeah, she could probably suck a glacier through a garden hose or something.

NH: I can.

Ponytail: Fucking-A, dude!

NH: But I only suck his, cause he’s hung like a horse. Run along, little boys.

Shaggy: Whoooooah! Fucking cool, man! Can I have your autograph?

SMP: Sure.

[He signs both guy’s t-shirts with a readily available Sharpie®.]

Ponytail: Thanks, man!

Shaggy: Yeah, brah. Thanks, dude.

[They stumble away, barely audibly gloating about getting “Sir Hungalot’s” autograph.]

SMP: Thanks for speaking up back there. You didn’t have to make like you’ve given me oral to avoid a confrontation. I could’ve handled them. Both if necessary. I was a former STWF InterGalactic champion, you know.

NH: Sil, I could’ve handled them! I just wanted to see the looks on their faces when I said that. Guys that age almost cream their pants when a woman talks to them that way.

SMP: Their age? Hell, I almost did too.

NH: Oh, that’s sweet.

[There’s a moment or two of uncomfortable silence.]

NH: Ummm. So, hey? Wanna bet 10 dollars on who hits the most three pointers?

SMP: Yeah. But can you spot me 10? Final Four tickets aren’t that cheap these days. Not to mention the plane tickets to get here…

NH: How about this? You win and I’ll show you my tits.

SMP: Heidi, I’ve seen your boobs probably a thousand times. Didn’t you know that Barry and Garry drilled a peephole that went from the break room to the women’s locker room back at County General?

NH: You peeked at me back then?

SMP: Duh, I’m a man.

NH: Now that’s really sweet! Thanks!

SMP: Ahem. Don’t mention it. Really, it’s okay.

NH: But that was so long ago! Why haven’t you said anything about that until now?

SMP: I didn’t really think it was that big of a deal. You’re an attractive woman, I think. You’re naked and walking around. The boys drilled a hole in the wall. I’m a man. Yeah, I’m going to look.

NH: Oh my god. I so wish you would’ve told me back then. I had such a crush on you when I first started working there.

SMP: Ummm, where is this going?

NH: I don’t… know.

SMP: Business and pleasure don’t mix.

NH: It could.

SMP: It’s doesn’t. Dipping the pen in company ink…

NH: There’s exceptions…

SMP: It’s a no-no.

NH: What are you saying? You wouldn’t want to have….

Nasty Carnie Guy: STEP RIGHT UP! HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! You got 30 seconds to hit as many three pointers as you can for the GRAND PRIZE! Hit eight in 30 seconds, take your pick of jersey!

NH: ….with me?

SMP: It’s your time to shoot. Good luck!

NH: But what about?

SMP: You’re holding up the line! And the promo was pre-arraigned to last only as long as it took us to get to the basketballs. We’re out of time!

NH: Oh no! You’re not going to get off that….

[static]

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