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Posts Tagged ‘BigBOSS’

20.005 Leagues Over Your Head!

July 7th, 2008
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Kobe Gyant

The camera opens up on a large room. It’s the biggest room you’ve ever seen. It’s so big it’s in the Guiness Book of World Room Size Records. And it’s poorly lit because the owner of the room is 10,000% committed to fighting global warming. As well as all forms of cancer and AIDS and mad cow disease and world hunger. The only light comes from an energy efficient lamp in the corner. It’s so energy efficient that the power company pays him just for running it. on the far wall are tons of trophies. Thousands of trophies. The wall actually is eternal there are so many trophies and frames and article clippings.

The camera zooms in one one of the pictures that shows a man in a basketball uniform, his arms raised, one hand clutching a basketball. The name Kobe Gyant is scribbled across the picture like an autograph. Suddenly, the room is flooded with light, like if Hurricane Katrina were a lightbulb, it would be 20 times brighter. Camera pans around, passing a giant desk with an office chair that looks way more comfortable than even heaven could hope to be, then over to the doorway, the source of the light that no doubt has left you blinder than Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder combined. In the doorway is a tall, dark figure.

The door closes, and all of America rejoices as this dark figure takes a seat in front of the camera, which he patented by the way. The name? Kobe Gyant.

<--Kobe Gyant-->

Welcome Brawlers On a Budget viewers to my palatial estate. This is a room I usually only let a select few lucky ladies visit before I let them ride my 20 inches of love. I only let myself into this room a couple hours ago to decorate for this big debut “Rant.” Sorry it’s not in better condition. But in that short amount of time, I’ve reached Nirvana, and hung out with Buddha, Jesus and some other cool cats somewhere in that great gig in the sky. They say Wilt Chamberlain slept with 20,000 women. I did that by last week, and I’m not even 18. Shoot, I’ll be having a fivesome right after this interview. The ladies can’t keep their hands off Kobe Gyant. Sadly, because sex education was outlawed in my state, I also have about 20,000 babies. I thought that spray ketchup and mustard on my stuff before sex was “prevention.” Turns out those are condiments, not condoms. Now, I know what you’re saying. How can someone with an IQ of 215 not know the difference between a condom and condiments. Well, let’s just say that public education in this country is odious.

Kobe picks up a frame off his desk. It’s a newspaper clipping with the headline: Gyant Rescues Midget, Sheep From Burning Orphanage. Subhead: Why Were There Sheep In Orphanage? You Won’t Baaa-lieve It!

<--Kobe Gyant-->

Ahh, memories. After I saved that poor orphan, I threw sheep up over his bed until he fell asleep. I couldn’t believe it took him four hours to fall asleep. Must have been all the thumping and crashing when the sheep landed. *Shrugs* Just another day in the life of Kobe Gyant. I’m a human, human interest story. I went on to score 49 points in the last minute of the championship game that night. Our team won 149 to 12. From the jaws of certain defeat, I delivered victory, along with my great teammate, Shaq Blaq. Poor Blaq, standing up there at the podium trying to take credit like a trooper, but he knew I was the real star that night. He only had 47 points. And yes, I know all too well the pain of being an orphan. I was orphaned five times. But I’m so loved that I had families killing each other just to adopt me.

Kobe shakes his head as if deep in thought while putting the picture back on the desk.

<--Kobe Gyant-->

There’s an entire wing named after me at my high school. I won the lottery and bought a wing. They made it in like three days. But then I had to give my baby mamas child support. And I’m also about $20 mil in debt thanks to an hour in Sin City. And did I mention I’m under indictment for points shaving? Which explains why I’m here today. The BOB, I’ve got some bills, son! My only fear in this life? Not being the best at everything I do. And now I can’t be the top basketball player in the universe anymore due to a lifetime ban from the sport, even at the YMCA! Like I always say, if you’re gonna get banned, get banned for life.

Kobe picks up a picture of Steve Studnuts holding the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. He tosses it aside.

<--Kobe Gyant-->

I’ve conquered basketball. I’ve conquered 20,000 women, soon to be 20,005 and counting. So, I might as well be the best wrestler I can be. Get ready, The BOB! Get ready, Steve Studnuts. Get ready The Great. Get ready Mr. Paradox. Get ready Dr. Silaconne M. Plants. You think you know what a champion is? You ain’t seen a champion yet. Someday you’ll have the honor of getting you butt kicked by Kobe Gyant. There’s been a lot of talk of me being a one-man show but that’s simply not the case. I’m a one-man team! I’ll win every title you’ve got, I’ll win every match you give me. They say I can’t win without Shaq. I guess we’ll see in The BOB. I’ll show them all.

So sign me up BigBoss or Trey Vincent or Seth Harker, whoever’s running this place. Oh wait, I already AM signed!

Kobe holds up a contract with the word “BOB” on top. Kobe quickly signs it.

<--Kobe Gyant-->

Biggest contract in BOB history. I’ll be paying off my debts…on a weekly basis.

[END]

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Garbage ‘n’ Weapons

May 22nd, 2008

Trey Vincent

[We open at Trey Vincent’s office, which is — sadly — his apartment, because BOB no longer has corporate offices as a result of that Comedy Central fiasco. Trey is seated in a black leather chair in front of a computer monitor, which sits atop a generic folding table (the same kind that guys usually get put through on wrestling shows, you know the kind). A framed picture of Sarah “The Jobber Slayer” can be seen over his left shoulder.]

TV: Greetings, humans. I know what you’re thinking. Trey, you’re doing a Rant? But you don’t have a match this week on iMPLOSION 7. WTF? This is true. But I come with a message for all BOBsters to read, or hear, or whatever. That idiot underling, Ted, forgot to mention something important about the Royal Flush Rumble weapon match. You get to pick your weapon. Now, this is important, because if YOU don’t pick your weapon…

[Trey picks up a Darth Vader mask and puts it on.]

TV: I WILL! Hooooo. Heeeee. Hoooo. Heeeee.

[Trey takes off the Vader mask.]

TV: Who the fuck is Garth Vader? And how the hell did Axl get into the Beer in the Belly Match? Didn’t I, or somebody very similar to me, say that to get in the BITB match that you had to have never won the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS? Didn’t Izzy have the title for like two seconds or something? I’ll get back to you in a second, Gilby.

TV: Also, I didn’t hear from Mr. Paradox this week, so he’s in the Royal Flush match. It’s amazing how my own underlings won’t even reply to my PMs. Bastards. So, to Death, XXXtreme Machine, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, Mr. Paradox, Luke Warm, Pigeon, The Great, and Duff, pick your weapon, or I’ll pick it for you! What will you get?

[Trey looks around.]

TV: Well, you might get such great items, as, uh, a circular for the local supermarket. And we all now how dangerous newspapers are! Or, maybe…

[Trey looks around. Trey drags a plastic trash bag in front of him.]

TV: An empty pasta box. Oh, I’ve got tissues boys. You think Sarah’s snot is gonna propel you to the final eight in the Grand Slam tournament? Maybe we’ll find out. What else is in here…bananas peels, an empty diet soda can, crushed water bottles. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Fuck the earth, fuck recycling and fuck Al Gore. You want a weapon, you name it. Or you’ll get my garbage.

[Trey turns around and checks his email.]

TV: Ah, excellent. Looks like SMP has already weighed in with his weapon of choice. This pleases me.

[Trey turns around.]

TV: Now, as for the rest of you. Choose your weapon. Or suck on my garbage. That is all for now. One other thing. I’ll shortly be getting out my famous deck of Hooters cards to determine the order of entrance. It will be random. And it may take a while. *Ahem* Right. So, back to Matt Sorum. I don’t know who this Garth Vader is, but this stupidity is going to end soon. I don’t know who this Superior Power is, but so help me if it’s BigBOSS, or Seth Harker, or, ME, I’ll be so pissed. I’m the most Superior Power in BOB so it must be me, which SUCKS, because I can’t stand Axl or Pigeon or any of those guys. In the words of your own latest member, “hell yeah, you fucking suck.”

TV: Until we meet agayne…

[Cut.]

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So Where Are They Filming From Anyway?

March 13th, 2008

Mr. Paradox

*Somewhere in South Dakota, Mr. Paradox adjusts the camera and then sits at a round, stained table alongside Dr. Thrilla and Cecil, the next card in front of them. Mr. Paradox runs a line alongside it and smirks.*

Mr. Paradox: Me versus the Snapmare Kid, huh? Well, that should be simple enough. I mean, if I ever have trouble countering a snapmare then my career is dead in the water.

Dr. Thrilla

Dr. Thrilla: *metal clanging*

Cecil: The doctor wonders why he wasn’t scheduled for a match.

Mr. Paradox: Well, for starters, we share our promos, so it’s possible the booker flipped a coin for which of us got on the card. Besides, you still have to make that challenge to Studnuts.

Dr. Thrilla: *rusty metal clanging*

Cecil: The doctor groans.

Mr. Paradox: Look, if you want something to do in that show, try doing a run-in on Jerri Li’s behalf.

Dr. Thrilla: *perverted metal clanging*

Mr. Paradox: Cut that out!

Cecil: I note Joe Bananas was not booked.

Mr. Paradox: Right now he seems more interested in random breaking-and-entering than, you know, submitting a profile to the BigBOSS. That won’t get you anywhere in this business.

Dr. Thrilla: *metal clanging*

Cecil: The doctor wonders whether to make his challenge as himself or in Thrilla Life mode.

Mr. Paradox: Yourself. You remember what happened when you did the Thrilla Life challenge, right?

Dr. Thrilla: *rusty metal clanging*

*The camera fuzzes out.*

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Much mo’ Great

January 11th, 2008

The Great

(The Great is at home, playing Smackdown vs. Raw 2004, when his 10 year old son, Nick, joins him on the couch.)

Nick: Dad, whatcha doing?

“The Great”: The Great is training, son. Can’t you see?

Nick: You’re playing a game, how’s that training?

“The Great”: Just watch. The Great has created a Death character and given him a kneelift. Now, notice The Great character The Great has created. See how The Great character blocks the kneelift when the real The Great presses the L2 button? The Death character staggers, then The Great presses L1 after the finisher icon appears, and WHAMMO! There’s the Twist of Great! New champion!

Nick: Dad, you’re a doofus! That’s so gay!

“The Great”: The Great is not gay. But after seeing your Grandma’s wooly mammoth the other day, The Great almost converted.

Nick: Huh?

“The Great”: Never mind, kid. Your day will come when you will understand. But while it’s still fresh in The Great’s mind, The Great is jotting down cha-cha clippers for Granny’s birthday present.

Nick: What?

“The Great”: When your south mane looks like a hula skirt, it’s time to break out the trimmer.

Nick: You’re retarded, Dad! You make no sense!

”The Great”: Oh, The Great makes plenty of sense. That’s why The Great is confident The Great will defeat Death at New Horizon and become its ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS.

Nick: Whatever, you want to play Halo 3?

“The Great”: No, The Great doesn’t want to play Halo 3. The Great wants to play Smackdown vs. Raw 2004 and learn so many maneuvers that Death can’t possibly counter them all. Like this one, what do you think?

(The Great presses an exact combination of buttons)

Nick: HA! You put sexual walking in your moves? That’s REALLY gay! Why don’t you just add taunt woman victory and go all the way gay?

“The Great”: Um, that was the wrong combination. It must be a programming fault or something.

(The Great presses more buttons)

Nick: A shoulder claw?

“The Great”: It could work under the right circumstances.

Nick: Dad, let me load your moveset if you’re going to look at this to train. Your moves are dumb.

“The Great”: The match is close to a week away, Nick. The Great doesn’t have time to learn new moves.

Nick: Well, you’re shit out of luck, Dad.

“The Great”: What did you say?

Nick: You’re spit out of luck, Dad! You’re SPIT out of luck!

“The Great”: Okay, for a moment there The Great thought you cursed. But anyway, and on second thought, The Great is not sweating it. The Great is a lock to make history and win the title in The Great’s second match.

Nick: Why you say that?

“The Great”: The Great has the fans. The Great has the power. The Great has been training and taking vitamins and running and doing everything The Great needs to do to win. And The Great has the fans’ support. The Great received a letter from a Brawlers on a Budget fan just the other day, showing support.

Nick: One letter?

“The Great”: One letter? Considering Brawlers on a Budget’s total number of fans, that’s like 78% right there. The Great has overwhelming support. The Great means really, what fan in the 18 to 34 male demographic that this promotion seems to cater to, cannot get behind The Great? What guy in that category does not have a wife, or girlfriend, or mother in law, or even mother that doesn’t constantly wear on their last nerve? They can associate—- with The Great. With The Great—- they can relate.

Nick: I don’t understand.

“The Great”: Not everybody in the stands can see themselves as a boney reaper of souls, or a doctor with metal teeth, or a hockey player, or a gothic mayor, or a gay Italian, and whatever that other guy is. But they can see themselves as a guy getting constantly nagged by females. Or having their bank accounts drained to nothing. Just like The Great. They sympathize with The Great. The can feel The Great’s pain. The Great’s victory will be their victory. Because The Great will show them that no matter how downtrodden the female will make you feel, you can still overcome and be a winner.

Nick: Dad, I’m only 10 years old. I don’t understand what you’re saying.

“The Great”: One day you will, son. You’ll understand about that and also about that mysterious hair that begins appearing in places it didn’t before. And then gets neglected, like your Grandmother’s. Maybe not as extreme as your Grandmother’s— but there will come a time when this will all make sense.

Nick: Sure, Dad. Whatever! I’m going to play Halo 3!

(Nick runs off)

“The Great”: Then go. Go play your Halo 3. The Great needs to be alone and train anyway. That’s enough of Smackdown vs. Raw 2004. The Great needs to go and secretly ingest high quantities of steroids and then work out. The Great is becoming so huge that by New Horizon, Massive Man Rendition 1st is going to have to change his name to Massive “But not as massive as The Great” Man Rendition 1st.

Death, you may be the Death there is, the Death there was, and the Death that ever will be.

But The Great has sent BigBoss’ wife a pair of Prada shoes, because The Great is certain The Great’s Wife has already bought another pair by now.

The Great hoped The Great didn’t have to resort to bribery, but The Great has to do what The Great has to do.

The Great will grace you soon.

Will it be a Great day for Death, or Death for The Great? Hold on, neither one of those sounds very positive for The Great.
Son of a bitch!

(The Great throws down his PS2 controller and storms off.)

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So Great

January 8th, 2008
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The Great

(The Great is at home, munching on a bagel and a variety of multiple colored pills that we’ll refer to as “vitamins”. He’s in full wrestling gear, tye dyed tighty whities, discount knee pads, and budget black wrestling boots that looks like an 8 year old painted yellow capital “G”’s on them.)

“The Great”: Nick is 10.

(Close enough? Okay, it looks like a 10 year old painted them on. The Great finishes his supplements and begins doing push-ups when his family walks in, fresh off a trip to Hawaii. They’re all wearing lays and the Mother in Law, disgustingly enough, is wearing a hula skirt and a coconut bra that hangs somewhere around her naval.)

The Great’s Wife: Honey, WE’RE HOME!

“The Great:” Lovely. (He continues doing push-ups.)

The Great’s Wife: Oh, well we’re GLAD to see you too. The least you could do is get up off the floor and welcome me back with a kiss!

“The Great”: The Great wishes to not ruin The Great’s fitness progress by having all The Great’s growth hormone suffer a regurgitate.

The Great’s Wife: STOP THAT! Get up and give me a kiss!

(He begrudgingly does. His wife notices a change.)

The Great’s Wife: Hey! You look like you’ve put on 30 pounds!

“The Great”: You have nice tan. And you’ve lightened your hair. The Great must say you look somewhat attractive.

The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh, whah whah whah!

“The Great”: Yes, The Great actually meant that.

The Great’s Wife: Well let’s do it then!

“The Great”: You’re not THAT attractive.

The Mother in Law: WHAH WHAH WHAH!

“The Great”: You’re right. That wasn’t very nice. Maybe it’s roid rage.

The Great’s Wife: You’re doing those?! Your nuts are going to shrink and you’ll become impotent! We won’t be able to have any more kids!

“The Great”: You make that sound like a tragedy. If The Great has to have The Great’s balls shrivel down to BB’s to avoid any more kids, The Great thinks that’s a pretty decent trade off.

The Great’s Wife: That’s a terrible thing to say! You’re horrible!

“The Great”: The Great is telling you that The Great can’t help it. It must be steroid induced aggression. The Great is out of control, and The Great might say something, due to steroid abuse, like your mother looks so ridiculous in her outfit that if your father hadn’t have run off with that flight attendant and saw her wearing that, he’d kill himself just so he could roll over in his grave.

The Great’s Wife: Sometimes I hate you so much! You can be such a bastard!

“The Great”: But taking those will make The Great very successful in the wrestling business.

The Great’s Wife: Oh, okay then.

(She composes herself)

Speaking of the wrestling business, I saw a representative from Kellogg’s in Hawaii and told him about you. I think we can get an endorsement deal if you win that title. He said that after you win, you get all dressed up in your wrestling stuff, come up to a table with the title on your shoulder, say you’re The Great, take a bite of Frosted Flakes, and yell, “THEY’RE GREEEEEAT!”

“The Great”: The Great can handle that.

The Great’s Wife: Tell him you work for WWE, though.

“The Great”: Why?

The Great’s Wife: That’s where I told him you work. Do you think they really want somebody pushing their cereal that wrestles in a place called Brawlers on a Budget?

“The Great”: The Great imagines they would. The Great is on the verge of becoming the biggest star in the Brawlers on a Budget. Call him back and close that deal before Lucky Charms get’s a hold of Hornswoggle.

The Great’s Wife: You have to win the title first.

“The Great”: We could have a problem then. I saw recently that Death might bribe the BigBOSS with a payoff.

The Great’s Wife: Well figure something out and win that title! That endorsement deal could pay for another trip to Hawaii!

“The Great”: That reminds The Great, where are the kids? You did bring them back with you, right?

The Great’s Wife: Of course I did, didn’t you see them walk in when you were doing push-ups?

“The Great”: The Great must be honest, they only thing on The Great’s mind when you guys walked in was droopy coconuts.

The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh whuh whah whah whuh.

“The Great”: Exactly.

The Great’s Wife: Nick is playing Halo 3, Little Johnny is upstairs downloading ingredients off the internet to make biological weapons out of household cleaners, and Lori is calling Hawaii on her iPhone. She found a boyfriend over there.

“The Great”: YOU SAID WHAT? LORI, GET DOWN HERE!

(Moments later, The Great’s 14 year old daughter is in the camera’s view.)

“The Great”: You can’t call Hawaii! The bill will be outrageous!

Lori: But I love him! I love him, I love him, and I love him even though when I told him my name was Lori, he kept calling me Holly.

“The Great”: The Great thinks you mean haole. It’s Hawaiian for Caucasian. And The Great thinks they use it as a disparaging term.

Lori: I don’t care! He’s my little Tiki Wiki!

“The Great”: Isn’t that the gay Teletubbie?

Lori: DAD! You’re a butthole! (she runs away crying.)

The Great’s Wife: Oh, for crying out loud! Now look what you did! Now I’m going to have to go up there and act like a caring mother! I’ll be up half the night consoling her!

“The Great”: Don’t strain yourself. On the subject of straining, The Great needs to get back to working out. The Great needs to muster all The Great’s juiced up strength. The Great MUST win THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. It’s The Great’s fate.

Death, at New Horizon, Death will finally take a holiday.

The Great’s muscles, you can’t equate.
The Great’s vitamins, you can’t calculate.
The Great’s determination, you can’t duplicate.

The Great will grace you soon. Are you ready?

The Mother in Law: Whuh whah whah, whah whah.

“The Great”: That was good enough. And please, go change. You look absolutely silly. Take that stupid hula skirt off.

The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh whuh, WHAH WHAH whuh.

“The Great”: You already did? And you’re not wearing panties? Son of a bitch, here come those pills after all! Thanks a lot mother in law! Now The Great is going to have to start today’s regimen all over again!

(Moderately slow fade to sounds of hurling, dry heaves, and assorted belches.)

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A Sight For Horny Eyes…

August 30th, 2007
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Kay Fabe

[Inside Room 429, Trey Vincent is flipping through channels on the hospital television.]

Trey Vincent: Hold on. Trey Vincent’s been in a coma since 2006, and somehow “Big Brother” is STILL on TV? People in this country are retarded.

Kay Fabe: Well, well, well.

Trey Vincent

TV: Kay Fabe? Boy are YOU a sight for horny eyes!

KF: Easy, big fella. Seth’s parking the car.

TV: Seth’s here? Sweet!

KF: Yeah, he probably won’t make it into this Rant though.

TV: We’re ranting?

[Trey looks over and sees the camera.]

TV: The FUCK? For an unorganized low budget sports entertainment federation, these camera dudes always end up just in time for me to post something to the Rant Zone.

KF: Actually…they’re here for me.

TV: You?

KF: Yeah. See…you actually don’t work for a low budget unorganized sports entertainment federation.

TV: BOB finally went out of business? It’s about time! Trey Vincent knew BOB couldn’t survive without Trey Vincent’s charisma and brains. So, what promotion you in now, honey?

KF: BOB.

TV: … Didn’t you just say BOB went out of business without Trey Vincent’s creative genius steering the ship to the promised land of Comedy Central?

KF: Well, there’s a lot we need to catch you up on.

TV: Are you sure Trey Vincent can’t just throw you over the bed and have Trey Vincent’s way with you? Trey Vincent’s been in a coma for a year. It won’t last long.

KF: Trey!

TV: What? Sorry! Geez. You’re fucking hot, honey.

KF: BOB is still in business.

TV: Okay…

KF: BOB is NOT on Comedy Central.

TV: BWAHAHAHAHA! Trey Vincent KNEW it! Even in Trey Vincent’s coma, Trey Vincent swears Trey Vincent somehow knew that BOB was going to blow it. Alright…what else?

KF: You don’t work for BOB. Your contract…well…you couldn’t sign one because you were in a coma.

TV: Contract? BigBOSS got people to sign CONTRACTS? Legal documents?

KF: Yeah, go fig. Anyway…also, Steve and Seth lost their jobs as well. They were attacked by some masked guys with waffle makers. They were unable to fulfill their contracts due to injuries, so BigBOSS found some loophole and fired them. And Atomo. And Sarah.

TV: … Jobber Slaying Sarah? SHE GOT FIRED? Whoops. Sorry about the yelling. Stupid caps lock.

KF: Trey!

TV: Gotcha! There couldn’t be a caps lock because this is all real. *Wink*

KF: STOP THAT!

TV: Kay, your caps lock is on! BWAHAHAHA!

[Kay grabs him by the balls.]

TV: Ipe!

KF: Sports entertainment IS real.

TV: Yes…ma’am…oooooohyeahhhh!

KF: Ewwww! You just splooged all over my hand.

[Kay runs to the bathroom and starts washing off her hands in the sink.]

TV: Told you it wouldn’t take long!

KF: I would so sue you if you had any money.

TV: What do you mean IF Trey Vincent had any money? Trey Vincent is LOADED. Where is Seth? Is he parking in slow motion again? Fuckin’ cruiserweight.

KF: Probably. But Trey…you aren’t loaded anymore. Your ex-wife cleaned you out.

TV: Ex-wife? Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA! Nurse Heidi divorced me?

KF: You weren’t married to Nurse Heidi. You were married to Michelle.

TV: Huh? Trey Vincent could have SWORN Trey Vincent was married to Nurse Heidi. She was getting awfully intimate with that loofa.

KF: I think that was one of the nurses in this hospital.

TV: Trey Vincent’ll probably be picking bits of sponge out of Trey Vincent’s sphincter for the next year.

KF: Again…ewww.

[Kay returns to bedside.]

TV: So…Michelle divorced Trey Vincent while Trey Vincent was in a coma. She get all Trey Vincent’s money?

KF: I think so. Plus…well…there are hospital bills. You’ll probably be in debt for the rest of your life.

TV: Shit. She got Trey Vincent’s penthouse. Trey Vincent’s Jeep? Trey Vincent’s BOOZE? That isn’t right, Kay.

KF: I know.

[A nurse walks into the room.]

Nurse: Just need to check in on my favorite patient.

TV: Missing any sponges?

Nurse: Pardon?

TV: Nothing, honey.

[She starts checking Trey’s pulse. Trey’s eyes roll back into his head, but nobody seems to notice. Once she lets go, Trey returns to normal.]

TV: Oh, nurse. That guy who got your pregnant…Ken Rosenberg…and then said he got kidnapped by the Bush administration is actually living in Carcer City. Oh…I think little Bobby’s first tooth just popped up. Isn’t that special.

Nurse: Uh…what?

TV: Huh?

Nurse: My god, how did you know all that?

TV: Know what?

Nurse: I’ve got to call my lawyer. Thanks, Trey. I love you!

[She kisses him on the lips and then starts running out of the room.]

TV: Trey Vincent loves you, too! Come back later and PROPERLY THANK ME!

KF: What was THAT?

TV: Dunno. So…shit. Look at Trey Vincent, Kay. Trey Vincent is half the man he used to be. Can you do Trey Vincent a favor? Somewhere in Trey Vincent’s belongings is a little black book. Trey Vincent need you to look under “A” and find a listing for my doctor…Dr. Astin. Trey Vincent needs to get back in shape.

KF: Oh, Trey, there’s one last thing I meant to tell you…

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Ladder Match Practise Session, Day 2

April 14th, 2005
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Coma

Caption: Ladder Match Practise Session, Day 2

[Fade up. It’s the carpark again. And that’s all the scene-setting you get until I get a raise.]

The Flunky: Okay, Coma?

Coma: SMELL THE GLOVE! Wheeee!

Hallucination Boy

TF: Coma, can you point to the ladder for me?

Coma: Yoink!

TF: Close, that’s a bush.

Coma: Is THIS your card, Inspector Krab? J’accuse!

TF: Nope, that’s Hallucination Boy. Here’s a hint… the ladder is the the big metal-y thing with the rungs attached.

Coma: Narf?

TF: That’s the one!

Coma: GOTCHA! Now, stay out of my accordian factory, Ashton Kutcher!

HB: You know Indy, I fail to see how this helps us find the Lost Temple of Potzrezbie…

TF: Try to stay focused, Hallucination Boy. Well, now we’ve mastered the basics, let’s move to lesson 3. Climbing the ladder. Notice how I climb steadily up the ladder, one foot in fornt of the other. Easy, isn’t it? Coma, let’s see you do it

Coma: (sings loudly) Oh, I been working on in the mailroom! All the kling-klong day!

THUMP!

Coma: (From the ground) My Weebles wobbled, but they didn’t fall down! Ole!

TF: Nice effort. Nearly made it to the first rung. Hallucination Boy, would you like to try?

HB: How can I when I’m stuck to the ceiling like this? Damn you BigBOSS, stop inflating me with helium!

Coma: BANZAIIII!

THUD!

CLATTER!

Various chicken noises

TF: Coma, put that down, please. I don’t know where you found it, but PETA banned us from using live poultry after that “Hen Grenade” gag at Poinkamania.

Coma: But I am Cluckula! Demon-Lord of Roosters, Hens, Rubber Chickens and all their subsidiary rights! Bow before me and tremble, squishy mortal!

HB: Look everyone, I made it to the top of the ladder!

TF: Good grief, he did too! Okay, Hallucination Boy, just stay there while I find the lesson on Top Ladder Offense.

[The Flunky flips through Ladder Matches for Dummies frantically.]

TF: Let’s see… Leeson 4: Using the Ladder as a Weapon… Lesson 5: Using Weapons While ON the Ladder. Lesson 6: Stop Using Sex as a Weapon. Lesson 7: Shawn Micheals’ Guide to Overselling. Where the hell is it?

HB: Gosh, I can see my house from up here!

TF: Try to stay in THIS reality, Aitch Bee! Lesson 8: Kevin Nash’s Guide to Underselling… Ahh, found it! Okay, Hallucination Boy…

HB: TRAIN!

THUMP!

TF: (closes book) Okay, same time tomorrow, then?

[Fade it.]

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Back in the gatdamn saddle

April 8th, 2005

Steve Studnuts

~~~Phoenix, Az. It’s hot already and it’s only April. It’s gonna get hotter. And so is BOB. It’s gonna get hotter ’cause the iAd is full strength once again. Don’t believe me, read….. er, watch SMC 18. Speaking of hot, Connie Lingus just walked into view… wearing just enough clothing to cover her fun buttons and “runway” trimmed snappy whisker biscuit. The Cindy Crawford, Angie Everhart, Tara Reid, and some other chick I forgot et all looking broad approaches Steve Studnuts who is sitting on a long, black leather sectional flipping through the channels of his SUPER WIDE PLASMA SCREEN. Steve’s casual today, wearing yellow silk boxers and some flip flops. The AYOOYFM/YGBCIADT lay beside him in a heap. Connie questions Steve’s antics as we join in~~~

Connie: Can I start now?

Studs: Didn’t you read the fuckin’ set-up? I know most people don’t but at least the people IN it should. Take it away, honey.

Connie: Steve, what are you doing?

Studs: Funny you should ask…

Connie: Are you going to tell me?

Studs: Are you fixin’ my turkey pot pie, bitch?

Connie: Umm, no…

Studs: Then… SHUDDAP, BITCH! Go fix me a turkey pot pie! HA! Judd Nelson as John Bender, the coolest mother fucker on the planet. Besides me, Trey, and Seth, of course. Anyway, don’t go anywhere, Connie… I was just fuckin’ around. I need some help here.

Connie: You know, Steve… I wish you’d stop calling me a bitch. It’s degrading, like I’m nothing more than an object for sex and cooking.

[Steve just stares at her]

Connie: Uhhhh, okay, what do you need me for then?

Studs: I need you to tell me why I’m not the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS? I mean, didn’t Carolina win that shit? I just know I pulled Carolina in the lottery.

Connie: No Steve, I think you had Arizona. Something about the “home state thing”.

Studs: Nah, they fuckin’ choked. I’d never choke like that.

Connie: Maybe it was Kentucky then, I remember you saying you wanted them because if you changed some letters around they’d be Komfuckme. And that was perfect for you or something.

Studs: Nope. You must’ve been hearing things. I had Carolina. I know it. But that’s cool, if this shit hole promotion wants to hang the strap on Sarah or whomever she’s facin’… so be it. They ain’t done a thing right since I got here, why start now?

Connie: Isn’t she wrestling that Zeno guy?

Studs: How the fuck should I know? I don’t read the whole card, I just skim until I see iAd shit, then what I did, then I get my lazy writer off his ass so I can comment about it, then I go to a club, pick up a chick I don’t give a rat’s ass about, and then I…

Connie: What? You do what?

Studs: Ummmm, nothin’. Talk about wrestling. Shit like that, you know.

Connie: Sure. Anyway, why do you care about that title in the first place? You have one.

Studs: THIS? [holds up the AYOOYFM/YGBCIADT belt, then throws it back on the sectional] This is a fuckin’ joke. NOBODY wants this title, except maybe that Ken guy or that fuckin’ Mexican. Do you believe this belt is SO pathetic it actually had to cut promos? They couldn’t do anything with it or get anybody towear it, it had to fuckin’ WRESTLE matches. Nobody wants this thing…. it’s a handout. It’s a pity belt. It’s a title they put on guys that can’t hold the big one. And I can HOLD THE BIG ONE, ya dig? Do it everytime I piss.

[Connie sarcastically rolls her eyes]

Studs: Seriously, do you think Sarah is gonna make any money for this place? She couldn’t draw a dime unless she was on a corner. And Zeno? That fucker couldn’t make money if he inked it himself.

Connie: Steve, they are gifted entertainers… I’m sure the promotion thinks they could do good for….

Studs: ARE YOU SMOKIN’ CRACK? Do you know this Big Boss guy? He’s the IRS wet dream! If they ever catch that fuckin’ dude and get him to pay what he owes, nobody else in the fuckin’ country would ever have to pay taxes again. Including myself, which is really all I care about in the first place. That guy does the dumbest things, he’s ran this place into the ground. This fed makes no money at all, and then he’s goin’ to do something like this, and put the title on either one of them? Then expect me to compete in hardcore matches? It’s stupid. I ain’t gonna do it, which it why I need your help.

Connie: I thought my help was remember what March Sadness team you had.

Studs: No, stupid. I intend on befriending some slacker that doesn’t know anything about this place and give him the belt as a gesture of good faith. You know, make him think I’m I swell guy and all. Then watch him get the shit beat outta him in one of Ken’s exploding tacks on a stick matches or Mano’s Mexican Food The Day After Death Matches and laugh my ass off. I’m too good for shit like that, I need to be the man. Not some hardcore champion…. unless they let me rename it the harddick champion. Every chick knows I won’t have a problem defending that title.

Connie: (yawns) Whatever, Steve. What help can I be?

Studs: Well, I’ve been flippin’ though the channels, checkin’ out cats from other promotions as well as this one. Bottom rungers that would never win a title even if they’d wrestle them fuckin’ selves for it. Check ’em out, and help me pick one I can give this title to, or else I’ll just have to suck it up and keep the gatdamn thing myself.

Connie: Steve, this is a pretty mean thing to do to a new guy.

Studs: You really think I give a shit? Now shut up and look at this first one.

[Steve turns on the TiVo. There’s a he-she conducting an interview]

On the screen: NEEP! Do you really want to hurt me? POINK! Do you really want to make me cry?

Studs: Fuck yeah, I wanna hurt you and make you cry, you son of a bitch. Take this title and you’ll hurt and cry every night. What do you think, Connie?

Connie: Is that?

Studs: I dunno. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I don’t care. You think it’ll take the belt?

Connie: I doubt it, he looks pretty frail, and needing a hit. What else do you have?

[hits play again. There’s a very skinny man on screen dressed in leather pants and a trenchcoat. He’s holding a large semi automatic assault rifle]

Man on screen: I AM AH-NOLD SWIZZLESTICKAH! IF YOU HEAR-AH THAT I’M COMIN’, IT’S NOT A RU-MAH! YOU BETTA GET DOWH-N! YOU GOTTA GET DOWH-N! ARG! I’LL BE BACK!

Connie: Oh my God, you gotta be kidding me. That guy it like a buck ‘o five including his gimmick and his rifle…

Studs: Shit! This guy is great! Oh wait, look at this one.

[He flips the channel, then hits play. It’s a dryer.]

Dryer: Hum! Clank Clank! Hum!

Studs: Uh, oh… somebody left change in their pocket. Heh. What do you think?

Connie: A dryer? That’s stupid.

Studs: Well? They have a gatdamn washin’ machine here! Why not?

Connie: Anything else?

Studs: How about I just give it to Death? He wouldn’t be afraid to get into any kind of match. I mean, he is Death, after all. I dunno, maybe I’ll just keep it. But I ain’t juicin’ all the fuckin’ time. Nah, fuck that. I don’t want to end up havin’ the Dusty or Abdullah forehead. Scars and shit all over the place. I bet Dusty went through about 18,000 blades by himself, and Abdullah was at the point he could probably just hold his breath real hard like he was takin’ a giant dump and his noggin’ would just bust open from that. I don’t wanna be like that. Hell no…

Connie: Steve, this isn’t about you not wanting to be hardcore or thinking Sarah shouldn’t win that main title. You wouldn’t have helped Sarah’s friend, Kay, if you didn’t think…. hey, wait a minute. I know what you’re doing…

Studs: Hold up, I know what you’re thinkin’. But it’s cool, I ain’t like that. Sarah’s gay. She’s lez, she munches the carpet… I ain’t tryin’ to hook up….

Connie: NO! Kay Fabe’s the lesbian. I think Sarah is straight and you’re trying to get in her pants. That’s what this whole thing is about. You think she’s going to win, and you know you can’t get a shot at that OWTTM while you have a different one. You’re trying to get into the main title picture so you can grope and fondle her in the ring, and try to get her bed with you aren’t you? That’s why you helped Kay Fabe, you think Sarah will owe you one, right?

Studs: No.

Connie: You’re trying to…. ooooh, I know what you’re doing!

Studs: Look, I don’t know who I saved at SMC 18, that was like three days ago when I read that shit and I didn’t bother to look at it again for this bit. I thought I saved Kay, hell, I dunno… it was one of those bitches, they all look the same to me. All I want to do it get rid of this hardcore title and put it on some dumbass who doesn’t know any better. Get the title that I deserve… the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. You act like every other girl I see, I want to fuck ’em.

[Connie just stares at Steve like he did at her earlier]

Studs: Well, it doesn’t mean I actually do…

[Connie continues to stare]

Studs: Not all the time…

[Connie continues to stare, starts tapping her foot and crosses her arms]

Studs: You really think that?

[Connie lets out a huge sigh]

Studs: Really? You think that I try to play hide the sausage with all of ’em?

Connie: Yep.

Studs: I’m hurt. Really I am. [fakes a sniffle] I can’t believe you’d think that… and I really can’t believe my lazy ass writer has dragged this promo out so long. He must be off work today. I’m sure there’s some things around his shitty house he could be doing…. isn’t that right, loser?

~~~Yes, you are correct, Steve. Say something quick so I can end this thing.~~~

Studs: Why don’t you just cut to static like you normally do when you run out of things to type?

~~~Okay. Sounds good. Cut to static.~~~

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More Channel Surfing

January 11th, 2004
Comments Off on More Channel Surfing

John Leary note: This originally was posted by “A Channel Surfer.” Who was me. Just a fun way to continue hyping Sunday Morning Chloroform

[A cartoon fellow swallows some nicotine gum and mumbles something before the show fades to black.]

CAPTION: COMING IN FEBRUARY…

[A sexy photo of Kay Fabe flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Sarah “The Jobber Slayer” flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Nurse Heidi flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Candy Cantaloupes flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Jeannie flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Christina Aguilera flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Brooke Burke flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Jenna Jameson flashes on the screen.]

BigBOSS’s voice: Hold it, hold it! Who is running this slideshow? We’re supposed to be showing picture of BOB’s sexiest women. Christina Aguilera and Jenna Jameson are not in BOB.

[Cut to a cramped television studio.]

Scotty Whatbody: You told me to fill 30 seconds, BOSS. Have you seen Massive Man in a thong? Not a pretty sight…Hey, I forgot this hot BOB chick!

[A photo of Michelle Gellar flashes on the screen.]

BigBOSS: Scotty! She’s only 16!

SW: You mean her hooters are gonna get bigger? Woohoo!

BOB. Are you ready to rumble?

February 2004.

Look out, WWE!

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Channel Surfing

January 11th, 2004
Comments Off on Channel Surfing

John Leary note: This originally was posted by “A Channel Surfer.” Who was me. Just a fun way to start hyping Sunday Morning Chloroform

[Several random channels flip by before pausing on “South Park.”]

Evil Woman: (Singing) There’s got to be a morning after…

Chef: (Singing) If we can hold on to the night…

[A shot of the horrified faces of Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman.]

Chef: (Singing) We have a chance to find the sunshine…

[Fade to black.]

BigBOSSes voice: In 20004…no, make that 2003…I mean 2004! Gah! Can we re-edit that bit?

Voice: Sure.

BigBOSS: In 2003…DAMNIT!

Voice: Are you alright?

BigBOSS: I’m FINE! I just can’t type. My script is a mess.

Voice: What happened to it?

BigBOSS: Same old story. I’m just typing away and my wife just keeps nagging me. Women…

Voice: Yep. What’s that have to do with the script.

BigBOSS: Nothing, really. Say, are you going to finish that doughnut?

Voice: Umm…yes?

BigBOSS: You sound a bit unsure.

Voice: Do I?

BigBOSS: Yes. You do.

Voice: Why don’t you just explain what BOB is for all the viewers.

BigBOSS: Boobs.

Voice: BOB is Boobs?

BigBOSS: Say, that’s a good name for our new B-show!

Voice: B-show?

BigBOSS: You know, like Smackdown is Raw’s B-show.

Voice: I don’t think we’re supposed to mention the WWE.

BigBOSS: Nobody else is mentioning ‘em much these days either my friend. BOB is sweeping the nation! Next? The world! I hear we’ve got a strong showing in New Zealand already.

Voice: What about wrestling?

BigBOSS: What about it?

Voice: Well, the viewers are going to want to know a new wrestling program will be airing on Comedy Central.

BigBOSS: Sure, at 3 a.m. And there are no rules then, baby! Probably because everyone is asleep, or in an alcoholic coma.

Coma: Poink!

BOB. Are you ready to rumble?

February 2004.

Look out, WWE!

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