BOB eWrestling | Rant Zone Archive!

Little Good is staring at an empty glass of beer at Jeers, the bar where nobody knows your name.

“Seth Harker? Insano Mano? Kamikazie Ken? And my partners are Coma and Hallucination Boy? Bloody hell. Ay! You got a cell phone I can have, mate?”

“Sure,” responded a booze hound. After getting the phone from the man, Little Good dials a number.

“Yeah. It’s me. Right then. I have a herniated disc in my neck and won’t be able to take part in the six-man match…It bloody well needs to be dealt with because I can’t feel a damn thing in my legs… What do you mean are you sure it’s cuz I’m drunk? Puh-leese. I’m in pain, mate. I’m losing about 20 percent of my strength every day…. What do you mean WHAT strength? Bloody hell! My arm is bloody well injured! That’s what I said, my leg. I mean, my neck! Oh, the pain, the pain….I don’t have health insurance, where do you expect me…right, the vet. Fine! I’ll be at Running On Empty!”

The booze hound angrily told Little Good, “Hey, give me my phone back.”

Little Good rolled his eyes. “Love to. Can’t. Wasn’t part of the deal.”

And Little Good stumbled, and he stumbled, and he stumbled away.

Little Good rant e-fed, Little Good, parody, wrestling

Little Good was in Jeers, his usual hangout spot. The bar where nobody knows your name. Suddenly a FAT BROAD came up to him and slapped him on the shoulder. Yes, a FAT BROAD.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“I’m evil,” Little Good said.

“Sorry to hear.”

“Bugger off you fat bint.”

She huffed.

The bartender came over to talk to Little Good. “What’s the problem, fella?”

“Hey, aren’t you Las Vegas Davis? From that Cybersuplex show?”

“Yes I am. You saw it?”

“Yeah I did. Bloody awful show, mate. You’re one dumb arse.”

“I know. I had to get this job.”

“Figures. Anyway, I’ve got a pay-per-view match coming up….sometime…against Kamikazie Ken. It’s not just any kind a match. It’s not a spot. Not my dog Spot. Not my liver spot. But a spotfest supreme match.”

“Really?” Davis said, scratching his chin.

“I don’t have a bleedin’ chance in hell. The odds are all against me. Bugger, my life has just gone in the crapper of late. First Sarah dumps me. Then this. The only comfort I have is in my two titles. I hope these aren’t on the line. The odds couldn’t be stacked higher against me.”

Mark Shill’s voice suddenly boomed in: “THE STAKES…..COULDN’T, BE HIGHER!”

“Ah well. I’ve got to go,” Little Good said.

Little Good got up from the stool and headed to the door.

Las Vegas Davis picked up the phone.

“Hello, bookie man? I’ve got a hunch. I want to be this week’s tips on Little Good to win at the BOB Pay-Per-View, A Chance Would Be A Fine Thing. I know what the odds are. Thanks.”

Little Good rant brawlers on a budget, Cybersuplex, efed, ewrestling, Las Vegas Davis, Little Good, parody, roleplay

Little Good: Damn, I forgot about that.

Doctor: Forgot about what?

LG: The CHIP in my BRAIN, doc.

Doctor: Oh, right. How do you suppose that got in there? A secret agency that wanted you to job for your entire career?

LG: Bloody hell, I don’t remember. Hmm. Let me try.

[He puts a hand to his chin and starts rubbing it. Nothing happens. So he rubs a little faster. The film gets a little wavy.]

LG: Stubborn today.

Doctor: I could prescribe that new Barbie drug.

LG: That drug isn’t even legal yet.

Doctor: Did I say it was?

LG: Bugger off you quack. You’re wrecking the moment.

[Little Good begins to rub his chin again, and the film gets all wavy and we have violin action too. Success! Without drugs! The scene shifts to some sort of party at The Little Brown Ring. Little Good has a bottle of brew in his hand and is eyeing some goodies on the buffet style table. Suddenly, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" is there.]

STJS: Eat chips and be fat!

[Little Good was in mid-yawn as she slammed his face into a bowl of Lays. He began to hack and cough as chips began to clog up his air hole.]

STJS: And that is the only way you will be getting Lay-d by me.

[He was able to give himself the Heimlich maneuver and spit up the mushy orange goodness onto Xamfir, who timely enough, walked over.]

Xamfir: Hey! I just stole this shirt.

LG: CoughcoughHACK. What can I say bloke? I’m evil.

LG (Voice): Nope that wasn’t it.

[The scene shifts to Jeers. Here's the set-up since this is only a flashback and this would make no sense at all out of context. Little Good had been talking to a fellow jobber at the bar by the name of Ruffle Man. He was dressed up like Superman, blue body suit and red shorts and a red cape. He said he had this gizmo that shot potato chips like one of those baseball pitching contraptions used in batting cages. Little Good asked to see how it worked. Thus we had this]

LG: Where should I stand?

RM: Oh, right there is fine.

[RM aimed the machine for Little Good's chest and had it aimed perfect. Then he stood up and bumped the barrel unbeknownst to anybody but you that it was now aimed at Little Good's mouth. He then looked for the switch. A cat entered the bar. He hit the switch. Then noticed the cat and began sneezing. He's allergic to cats, y'know.]

LG: Hey (was his last mistake).

[THUCKTHUCKTHUCKTHUCKTHUCKTHUCKTHUCKTHUCKTHUCK. (Those are the chips entering his mouth and creating a collection.) Little Good's eyes got wider by the second as chip after chip entered his mouth until his mouth was a bloated full collection of bits of chips. He couldn't even close his mouth to chew.]

RM: ACHOOACHOOACHOOACHOOACHOOACHOO.

[Long story short, Little Good continued to be pelted in the face by the machine until he tripped and fell and hit his head. He later woke up in the hospital room. He saw a doctor with tweezers pull out a hunk of chip.]

Different Doctor: Hmm. I never ate lunch. So hungry. (He looked at the nurse.) Could you get me some dip?

Nurse: Right away doctor.

[She left the room.]

Diff. Doctor: What an idiot. Can’t believe she fell for that.

[The Different Doctor shoved the chip into his mouth and ate it. He then continued this procedure step by step until Little Good was able to chew the rest of his way out. The scene shifts back to the present time. To the first doctor's office.]

LG: No, I still sucked then.

Doctor: Hmm. Well, according to the X-ray, it looked like a Dorito. Dorito. Dorito. Dorito. Dorito.

LG: Why are you repeating that?

Doctor: I was hoping it would send you into a spiral of memory recovery. Oops, forgot to play this.

[He puts on a tension-building memory recovery track and says Dorito over and over again. This time, it works, as Little Good flashes back to when he was a boy. A group of boys bet him he couldn't stuff a bag of Doritos up his nose. So he tried to prove them wrong.]

LG: I say dear boy, you are indubitably wrong. I wager I can crammeth the entire contents of this container of chip artifacts in my nose.

[Little Good pulled out his trusty pushing straw as the boys gasped in a mixture of terror and appreciation. Little Good, then known as Little Excellency, pulled out a chip and held it up high for everyone to see. He then put the pointy projectile to his tiny nostril and proceeded to cram it up there.]

Boys: Cram it up, cram it up, WAAAAY up!

[Back to present day.]

Doctor: Ah-ha.

LG: And that’s why I suck to this day. I pushed that little bugger too far up into my brain. But for some reason, I can’t remember most of my life after that point until I started here in BOB. No loss I wager. Maybe some more stuff will come to me when I promo more often. Now doc, I want this chip out of my brain. Can you help me?

Doctor: I may be a doctor, but I’m no brain surgeon.

LG: Right, then recommend one to me. Because I don’t want to suck anymore. I need to fight Death soon.

Doctor: Death? I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You only have three weeks to live.

LG: What? Why?

Doctor: Cuz that’s when Death is gonna kill you.

LG: I’m gonna get this chip out of my brain. One way or another.

Doctor: Well, then, my only suggestion to you

LG: Yes?

Doctor: I would prescribe you get a straw, go outside and catch some ants, and then pretend like they’re sweet cocaine and hope they ONLY take the Dorito.

LG: Is that your professional opinion?

Doctor: (Looks at his watch.) Can you wait a minute? I have to go get my pay check.

LG: Bloody hell. I’ll go get the ants then. Cuz I’m evil. And I need to become the smart, evil man I once was if I ever hope to fight Death and win. But first, I’m gonna go shag Sarah once more. I’m gonna stop at the supermarket and buy her a dozen bananas. Who cares why she turned heel? Bollocks, as long as she keeps eating bananas, she can be all the heel or face she wants to be. I’ll keep popping for her.

Little Good rant BOB Wrestling, Death, efed, Little Good, parody, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer"

Jeers. The bar where nobody knows your name. Unless that name just happens to be

BOOOOO!!!!!!!

Unless that name just happens to be….

BOOOOO!!!!!!!

Oh stop it. This isn’t about the narrator. It’s all about Little Good.

Little Good walks into the bar, which is pretty well packed tonight. He’s looking for partners. Two in fact. No, not for some gay orgy. For a wrestling show to face of against the Slayer and her little groupies.

The bartender with the horse face walks up to Little Good as he sits down on a stool.

“Damn it! Can’t you clean the crap off this stool!”

“What?”

“There’s stool on my stool. Bloody hell, who sat here before me?”

A loud, deep laugh is heard behind Little Good. Little Good turns around and jerks backward in horror.

DEATH!

The figure, all nearly 7-feet of him, bends over and slaps, well, you could assume a knee, but his whole body is hidden by a big black cloak. The only part of his body revealed is a bony hand. The one clutching the scythe.

“Death! Well I’ll be jiggered. I haven’t seen you in YEARS mate!. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, I can’t complain. Well I can, but everyone I tell dies!”

Both men share a hearty laugh.

“Hey, didn’t you try to become a stand up comedian there for a while? I heard you performed at a few bars. Told some real funnies. You still doing that?”

“Nah. I took my act on the road. It bombed. Except for one guy. I remember, only one guy laughed at me the entire tour I did. Everyone else just sat there, silent.”

“Well, it’s the world’s loss,” Little Good says flatly. “Anyway, fancy meeting you here. Say, have you ever thought of wrestling?”

“Wrestling? I couldn’t. I don’t have the physique. I’m nothing but, uh, bones!”

“Yeah, but they’re really BIG bones.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

Little Good raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t mean, like that.”

“Oh, I know.” Death clears its throat. “Yeah, well. Why would you want me as your partner.”

“I’m trying to get together the most EVIL tag team ever created. The kind of team that would make Satan’s legs wet with piss.”

“Hey, you just gave me an idea. There is only one man who is hated by more people in the world. Want to go interrupt his RP?”

“Sure.”

“But yes, just to let you know, Little Good and Death will team up in the six person match. Hopefully with the most disgusting, most vile, most ugly, most smelly wrestler of all time…….”

To be continued in another promo. Read until you figure out which one.

Little Good rant brawlers on a budget, Death, efed, Little Good, parody

Posted by Little Good on 1/16/2002 at 21:07:26

Little Good threw his remote onto the floor of his apartment and began jumping up and down on it. Bits of plastic and little numbers and buttons spread in every direction. Two AA batteries roll away.

“Oh, bloody hell. Now how the hell am I supposed to change the channel? Damn the Slayer. Damn her.”

He pulls a pack of cigarettes out from his leather jacket, pulls out a lighter, and lights up. He had been watching the “classic” Buffy “The Jobber Slayer” roleplays.

“Fine, let’s just do an old school promo here. Sarah. I’m sick of these frigging classic roleplays. Nobody cares where you come from. They only watch you because you’re so hot. What the hell was the point of the last three promos? Huh? You’re not even trashing an opponent in them. What’s wrong with you? Damn BOB, damn the Burp channel, whatever the hell that is. You’re just so proud of that damn Swiss Army Title, aren’t you? So you have to gloat. Live off your past glory. Can’t even grace us with new material?”

He paces back and forth, inhaling most of the rest of the cigarette.

“And what about BOB? Gluttons For Punishment? I didn’t win, I know. My great evil plan didn’t pan out, but I’m sure I’ll have more little good plans, which will hurt none more than the Slayer. I am going to make your life a living hell. The Jobber Revolution is coming. It only takes one jobber to end the Slayer’s career. And I’m going to find that jobber…or I’ll end your career myself….But only if it’s on PPV. Now bugger off.”

Later. At Jeers. The bar in Cloudydale.

Little Good is seated at the bar, drinking. A girl sits down next to him. A redhead. It’s Kay Fabe!

The door opens.

“Evening everybody!”

“Xamfir!” everyone but Little Good greets.

Then Xamfir sits down on the other side of Little Good. Little Good looks at both of them in disbelief. Why in the hell are they at Jeers?

A bartender wearing a horse’s mask (ah, the irony) walks up to Xamfir.

“Beer me,” Xamfir tells him.

“Hold on, hold on,” Little Good says. “Wait a bleeding minute. Why are you two Slayaholics sitting next to one of your biggest enemies?”

“I don’t know,” Kay says. “It’s just, we haven’t had much to do since the title win. With Sarah off on her ego trip, I’ve been forced to look back at myself in my pre-everything that makes me sexy phase. It sucks.”

“And I’m not even introduced yet. Dick Hurtz. C’mon. Such a good move dropping him for me. I’m so much prettier than he. But Little Good, we came here for a reason.”

“Are you two trying to turn heel? That’s so…..intriguing. Well, if you two want to turn heel, there’s only one way to do it. If you want to discuss this further, perhaps over some Chinese, come on over later tonight. We can wait for the next amazing blast from the past to air. Where is Sarah now?”

[Sarah's bedroom.]

It’s dark, but we can see Sarah laying in bed under a blanket. Her shoulders are naked, and she’s snuggled up next to her Swiss Army title belt, which lays on the pillow beside her. She strokes the belt softly and then closes her eyes to get some sleep.

Little Good rant brawlers on a budget, e-fed, e-wrestling, fantasy wrestling, Little Good, parody, roleplay, Xamfir

A bar. Somewhat deserted. Pretty well-lit for a bar. Kinda set up like “Jeers.” Sure, just picture that bar. Since that’s the name of this bar. It would be helpful.

“Well looky here, it’s the place where nobody knows your name,” bellowed Little Good as he opened the door and it crashed against the wood Native-American-Indian with the cigars. “Finally, Little Good is back in Cloudydale. Finally, Little Good is back home.”

Little Good walks down the three steps and heads toward the bar. He looks down at a brown stool and takes a seat. He bangs on the gold bar surrounding the bar twice. That grabs the attention of the bartender, a short man whose eyes barely can see over the bar. He is wearing a luchadore mask. Dennis approaches Little Good. He takes a seat next to the most evil addition to the BOB roster of all time. After putting in an order for a Red Death, he looks over at Dennis. He’s got a microphone.

“You better watch out or I’ll stick that microphone up your nostril. Y’know, some people are just born evil. That’s my story. You know my name. Don’t you? Doesn’t everybody here know who I am? I’m a bad boy. I cause trouble and hurt people. I’m notorious for injuring other wrestlers by blowing easy moves such as headlocks and armbars and lockups. But I’m damn good at punching, kicking and throwing. I’m not in this business to entertain. I’m here to legitimately hurt people. Now bugger off.”

Dennis doesn’t.

“Bloody hell, are you still here?” Little Good asks Dennis. Little Good bangs the bar. This time, a man dressed in a wedding dress comes to take his order.

“I’ll take a bloody Sarah.”

“A what?” came the high-pitched reply from the man in the wedding dress.

“Sorry. I mean, a bloody Mary.”

“That I can do you for sugar.”

“Oh yeah. Sarah ‘The Jobber Slayer’ thinks she’s doing good by getting rid of bad gimmicks and untalented wrestlers. We have rights too damnit! What’s my gimmick? I’m evil. I’m more evil than the devil mate. All in due time. What you want to ask me about guy?”

Dennis tells him about the upcoming pay-per-view. And the weapons.

“Well I’ll be jiggered. Too bad my ultimate plan of evil will prevent FUBAR from ever happening. For you see, I have devised the most evil, yet legally binding plan of all time. And if all goes according to plan, by the time BOB hits PPV, I will be the most powerful man EVER.”

He pauses.

“And if not, then I guess I’ll bring a video camera of some sort to whack people with.”

Little Good rant brawlers on a budget, Dennis, e-wrestling, efederation, fantasy wrestling, Little Good, parody

The man you will know as “Little Good” (for now) looked on from the comfort and shadows of the other side of the wrestling ring where Cowman was taken down by Sarah “The Jobber Slayer.” Once she and her crew cleared out, Little Good walked back to where the big fight scene took place. His foot crashed into something. Heavy. He looked down toward his feet and smiled.

“Well bloody hell. I’ll be jiggered.”

Little Good bent down and picked up the camera Cowman had swiped from somewhere. The key to broadcasting bad gimmicks was at his fingertips. The key to getting new talent jobs in BOB was here. Little Good smiled evily.

“Oh I am so Little Good. Keep living in your fantasy world Slayer. BOB will be mine. It’s time for talentless jobbers to reclaim their place on television.”

Haha.

Hahahahaha.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

The laugh echoed in the night.

Little Good rant BOB Wrestling, brawlers on a budget, efed, ewrestling, Little Good, parody, roleplay