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Me and Taxes

November 7th, 2007
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Death

Caption: Somewhere in Florida

[Death is sunning it up on a beach. His wife, Katie, is laying on a beach towel next to him.]

Death: Katie, what do you think of this main event I’ve got coming up at November in Nowhere.

Katie Death

Katie: Ra raaar.

Death: Yeah, I think it sucks too. I’ve got to face, what, 12 other people? Including Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, who I’m supposed to face yet again at MEGABRAWL? There’s only one thing tougher to do than to beat a guy once. It’s to beat a guy TWICE in a row. But Plants, since it’s just you, I guess it’ll be like the New England Patriots running through the Miami Dolphins twice this season. No worries on my end.

Death: Axl? You did have this title just a little while ago. And this event is in your hometown. But you know what? If this were the 1970s or 1980s, MAYBE that would matter. Wrestlers, lately, have been jobbing in their hometowns. Believe me, buddy boy, you ain’t got a shot at getting this title back around your waist again.

Death: douja? I guess it all depends on how good the weed is in Nowhere. douja’s held the gold before. But lately, he hasn’t been much of anything. He hasn’t even showed up in the Rant Zone for months, so no worries there. No interviews equal no push.

Death: Then there’s Regeneration-X. Jim and Massive Man. I’ve killed you before, Jim, and I’ll kill you good once again. And it won’t be just a glancing Touch of Death this time. Maybe I’ll give you both crotch cancer. Then when you do those crotch chops and accidentally bang your balls, they’ll rip off and roll down your legs. And you’ll step on ‘em because you won’t know they’re there! How about that, boys? Crotch rot! Let’s see you regenerate your genitals, boys.

Death: Pigeon? Please. I’ve beaten him so many times I’ve lost count. I got your “density” right here. Undietaker? Have you beaten anybody who is anybody, ever? I don’t think so. Insano Mano? I’m not gonna kill you, mainly because it’s so funny to NOT put you out of your misery, Wile E.

Death: XXXtreme Machine. Remember, the reason you’re still poor is because of me! Remember? I made a KILLING in the stock market with your back pay. And it’s been all green for Death since. That’s right, just like NBC, Death went green. And once you go green, you never go back.

Death: Kevin the Pyromaniac? Been there, killed that. Pete Trable? You haven’t done ANYTHING yet to deserve to be in this match. You’re just there to make the little girls cream themselves, maybe, I dunno.

Death: And finally…booger. Booger, boy, this ain’t a gimmick. I’m God’s hitman. I am the Death there is, the Death there was, and the Death there ever will be. And I am the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. Come November In Nowhere, Big Bony’s gonna collect another main event pay check. Welcome to my world, Booger. I’ll show you that the scythe is mightier than the spoon.

Death: Always remember, nothing’s for sure in life except for ME and taxes…But for now…Big Bony’s on…the….BEEEEEEEEEACH!

[Sound of a gun shot in the distance.]

Death: Crap. Katie, we have to go. Time to go to work.

Katie: Raaaar!

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Oblivion…

October 20th, 2007
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Axl

[Scene: Nowhere City Cemetary. Axl’s father’s gravesite lies in our sights… before the camera pans a bit, until we find that the grave yard is actually right next to Axl’s trailer. Now THAT’S sinister. Eh? … Ok, not really…]

“Death.”

“An embodiment of the end… The end of life. The end of the struggle to STAY alive… the end… as well as the beginning.”

“The beginning… of a New Horizon.”

[We find Axl sitting atop the hood of a broken down old car laying on his front lawn. As the gray sky above pours down rain, Axl’s trenchcoat whips roughly in the harsh wind… he adjusts his hotpink-flamed cuffs, looking in their direction instead of the camera…]

“Death, my boy… Can you feel it? Feel… the electricity?”

[Suddenly, a bolt of lightning rips through the sky, and thunder quakes in the distance.]

“Can you feel the excitement? Death… it’s time. Time that you shed your fellow old school budget brawlers, and step up to the NEW regime. It’s time that you prove to the world… nay… the UNIVERSE, that while geezers like the iAd and SMP may be past their expiration dates, Death? Is TIMELESS. Death? Why, Death is never out of season. The ageless 10th Wonder of the World! You, babe, are the one thing that will remain… forever… and ever. And it is with that in mind that I let you know… Something you’re going to find out very… VERY soon.”

[Axl lifts his gaze to the camera… showing a bit of a smile… but quickly, this smile is replaced by a determined stare… a solemn, emotionless glare… piercing the very lens of the camera.]

“Death… whether you join US or not… the Hierarchy WILL form. Not the Hierarchy you know now… not Jonny, and Jimmy, and Joey, and Jackie, and Jed, and all the rest of my jobber army. No… for you see, ever since I stepped into this god forsaken company, I had my eyes set on one thing.”

“…”

“Ok, that’s a lie. When I first stepped into BoB, I simply wanted to promote my album. BUT THEN…”

“Well, then I wanted to fight the sWo. And then I wanted to start up a thousand failed promotions. And then I wanted to shill Parodyox INC., and fight a masked gimp. And then-”

“… Well, eventually, I DID have my eyes set on one thing.”

“The Only… World… Title… That… Matters. And did I capture it? You’re damn right I did! … For about twenty seconds. Before losing it to XXXTreme Machine…”

“BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER who I lost the belt to. It only matters that, for one, brief, shining moment, I held it within my hands… in all of its plastic and cardboard, held together by bits of duct tape, glue, and saran wrap… glory.”

“And I vow, no matter what I must do, no matter what mountains I must climb, no matter what oceans I must cross, I SHALL, once again, hold the OWTTM in my hands again… not because I want to. Not because I need to. But because I DESERVE to. I am the ONLY man in this entire company that deserves that belt… the distinction of being the ONLY Champion That Matters. For I am the Only Wrestler That Matters… The Metal God… The SAVIOR of BoB…”

“I AM… Better Than You.”

“And no, no, no, Death, don’t take that personally. You’re a smart… being. When I say I’m “Better Than You”, I mean generally speaking. But, well… let’s face facts, buddy. You’ve got absolute ZERO muscle mass. And to add to that, you’re as slow as a slug riding on a snail hitching a ride on top of a turtle, and to be quite honest, you’re not much to look at. Of course, you’ve not got much TO look at, besides bones, a robe, and a scythe, but facts are facts. And Truth Is?”

“You’re not exactly the GREATEST World Champion of all time.”

“But, hey. You’re not the worst. That honor would have to go to SMP.”

“…”

“Ohhh, yeah, that’s right! Sil’s STILL never held the belt! So I guess that means even XXXTreme has beaten him to the punch! Congrats Triple X! U da mann!!!~1one”

“Maybe Scotty Whatbody can fit a run in there before SMP FINALLY wins the title… on the final BoB event. Hey, 2050 maybe a FEW years away, but hell, tis better than nothing, eh?”

[By this time, a smile, thick and smirky, has spread itself across Axl’s mug. He turns his body to lay on his side, head resting on a fist, with his legs criss-crossed upon the hood.]

“Oh, Silly Sil… You just don’t know what you’re getting yourself into at ‘Massively Cool‘, do you? Sil… I know what you must be thinking. You wish. Wish that Death would have chosen someone for you to partner with OTHER than me. Can’t say that I blame you. It would have been alot less painful. Alot less embarrasing. And a whole helluva lot less fun for mio. Yeah, that’s right. So in hindsight, I guess I’m GLAD he chose me as your partner. But if I were you? I wouldn’t be.”

“You see, when we head into ‘M.C.’, I could do many, many things. Oh, let’s see… [begins looking at his nails, quite nonchalantly] I could refuse to tag in. For one… I could fight Heidi, brutalize her… beat her to a pulp. But when Death enters the squared circle? I could just hand it right over to you, so you can take the beating you DESERVE. [Axl puts down his hand, and looks square into the lens] … Or, I could just play it fair, and help you win… when otherwise? You’d be slaughtered. So, yeah, I could totally help you, dude… Ch’yeah. RIGHT. Babe, after everything we’ve been through? I wouldn’t DARE deny you the privelege of experiencing EXACTLY what I have in store for you, come the 3rd. Once it’s approved by Big B., the match of the ages will be set in destiny.”

“Which brings me back to… Death.”

“Death… Darling. I want you.”

“I want you to be by my side… when the Hierarchy and I shape BoB in OUR image. Your place… Your place amongst the ELITE of this business could be staked, claimed, and set as soon as you make the agreement. Just a few… tiny… simple words. In fact… just two.”

“I Do.”

“Do you, Death, solemnly swear to forsake your BoB brethren? To step out from the shadow of the likes of Massive Man, Jim, douja, and Kurt Angel… and into the light of a New Horizon? Do you wish to begin a new era here in BoB? Do you wish to honor, and obey, the code of the Hierarchy… till… uh… you, do we part?”

“Then…”

“With the power, vested in me, as the Savior of all that Is Parody E-Sports Entertainment… and as leader of the Hierarchy, the New Force in BoB… the KINGS… amongst geezers… I now pronounce you…”

“Death… Second in Charge, to me, the Almighty Axl.”

“It could all be yours, Death. Standing side by side with me, as the leaders of this industry… think about it.”

“And then get back to me. I’ll be looking forward to it…”

[Axl slides off the car, but before heading into the trailer, Axl leaves upon the hood a black rose… which the camera slowly pans into… before fading… into…]

– oblivion –

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Hanging with Misty, identity theft and crank calls

October 18th, 2007
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Trey Vincent

Caption: Sin City, King Leary Motel

[Inside a motel room, Trey Vincent was typing away on a computer and wearing a green iAd T-shirt, sweatpants and headphones. If you had a really good ear, you could hear the strains of “Gears of War” by Megadeth playing. A knock at the door interrupted whatever porn Trey was looking for. He headed to the door and looked through the peephole before opening it.]

TV: Did anybody ever tell you you look totally sexy through a peephole?

Misty Waters

Misty Waters: I think that was a line in one of my movies, actually.

[Misty walks in, and Trey shuts the door.]

TV: Damn it. I need to come up with some original material.

[Misty tosses her jacket and purse on Trey’s bed.]

MW: Hey, you’re not speaking in third-person…again. What’s up with that?

TV: I’m not? Weird. *Ahem* I…*ahem* I…damn! So what brings you here?

MW: I dunno. Just seeing what you’re up to.

TV: Porn surfing, pretty much.

[A cell phone rings.]

TV: Hold on a second.

[Trey picks up the cell phone and looks at the number.]

TV: Hello?

MW: Oh, this is going to make fascinating Rant material…

TV: Yes. How are you guys?

MW: A one-way conversation.

TV: Awesome. So we’re good to go. What about BOB, that wrestling fed? Any interest in that?

MW: BOB?

TV: Really? Really? That’s fantastic. Of course. Right. Cool. Yeah. See you then. Thanks.

[Trey hangs up.]

TV: How do you feel about a little road trip with me?

MW: Where to?

TV: Los Santos.

MW: Really? Why?

TV: Trey Vincent’s getting back on TV.

MW: Oh he is? What about you?

TV: You got any good credit cards?

MW: Are you serious?

TV: *Sigh* That Kevin T. Pyromaniac got cancelled for some reason. I need to get a new one. Isn’t douja’s real name Adam or something?

MW: Trey!

TV: Huh? Fine. I won’t use douja’s name.

[Trey pulls out his wallet, and then a credit card. Misty grabs it.]

MW: Insane O. Mano?

TV: Right.

MW: Does he even have a Social Security number?

TV: Surprisingly, he does. At least, the guy who originally started with that gimmick.

MW: What? That’s not the original Mano?

TV: Does Mano sound like a white guy pretending to be a luchadore anymore? He’s fluent in Babelfish.

MW: I thought Mano’s real name was Frank.

TV: Oh, come on! That’s so unrealistic. How would you know that unless you just cheated and looked at his bio page.

MW: I have a photographic memory, asshole. The computer is right over there.

TV: What’s the worst that could happen?

MW: Hmm…you ARE facing him in a six-man tag match. Along with Kurt Angel and douja. That’s two former ONLY WORLD CHAMPIONS THAT MATTERS.

TV: douja? He’s been so busy getting stoned lately, he’s forgotten to rant since March Mayhem. Mano is just a Mexican cruiserweight. No big thing. And Kurt Angel…man, we’ve had some wars in BOB and in other places.

MW: Yeah, too bad you’re not sleeping with the BOSS’s daughter anymore.

TV: I know. I should be sleeping with Michelle and I should have the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. Wait…is Death sleeping with Michelle?

MW: I doubt it. Although, I did hear a rumor that she can’t have kids. Maybe Death killed her uterus.

TV: BWAHAHAHAHA! Awesome. Yeah, and Pigeon sure isn’t getting helped by his relationship with my ex-wife. I seriously need to find a new chick, Misty.

MW: Yep. You sure do.

TV: Misty.

MW: What?

TV: When are you gonna stop the charade and drop those panties?

MW: *Sigh*

TV: I’ll get an AIDS test. Whatever it takes.

MW: You’re such a romantic. How have you stayed single this long?

TV: Coma.

Voice from outside: POINK?

TV: Come on. We’ve got history to make, Misty. And I’ve got enough credit to get us a king-sized bed. I’ll even spring for a massage. And room-service. Whatever you want.

MW: Alright, Insane. Let’s hit the road.

TV: Oh, one last quick thing.

[Trey opens his phone and hits speed dial number. Misty grabs her stuff and then packs up Trey’s computer while he speaks.]

TV: Seth? Buddy! Great news! You gotta call me. Hey, you’re not having sex with a bear fur rug right now, are you? Hey, seriously, good luck in that main event match. Bring home the Swiss Army Belt for the iAd. Oh, and I think I just saw Massive Man and Jim walking on a cake with your picture on it and laughing outside. Don’t know what that means. Maybe you do? Later, bro.

[Trey hangs up.]

MW: You’re such a punk.

TV: Thanks! Oh WAIT! One last phone call.

[Trey opens his phone and hits speed dial number.]

TV: Hello, I’m looking for Connie Lingus? Hi Connie. I was wondering if I could squeeze your Charmins? BWAHAHAHAHA!

MW: *Snort*

[Trey hangs up.]

TV: Hope Studs doesn’t get belted again over that one.

MW: What am I gonna do with you?

TV: I can think of a few things.

[Fade out.]

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The Church Of Santa

August 25th, 2007
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Lord Athackkimentham

[We open in a red and white room that is lit only by red and white candles. The camera cuts to the side quickly to see Uber Vampire Warrior “necking” with someone in a pew. “Jingle Bells” is playing on a small clock radio CD player combo. Lord Athackkimentham steps up to a podium. Behind the podium hanging on the wall is a giant candy cane.]

Uber Vampire Warrior

LA: Please rise.

LA: I said, please RISE!

[Uber Vamp stumbles to his feet. The girl doesn’t move.]

LA: Damnit, Uber Vamp. How are we ever supposed to bring in new Church Of Santa members? This is a disgrace. You keep eating everybody.

[Uber Vamp shrugs and wipes his mouth on his white sleeve.]

LA: In the name of the Claus, The Elves and the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

UVW: Amen!

LA: May Santa be with you.

UVW: And also with you.

LA: Today, I’d like to address Kurt Angel and douja. Boys, Santa knows your weaknesses. He knows just how to tempt you. Resistance against Santa is futile. Just sit on Santa’s knee and tell him what you want. He wants to give it to you. Only Santa can fulfill your needs and desires. You want a DVD player? Maybe an XBOX? How about a bong? Yeah, you boys like bongs.

LA: Those other religions tell you it’s good to not have things. Well, they’re wrong. It’s not that bad being greedy. What do you want, to go to heaven? Please. As if you boys even have a chance of that happening. Kurt keeps getting kicked out every time he goes. How do you think you’re gonna do there, douja?

LA: Submission to Santa is the only way to get good presents. Yea! The great Profits Elmo & Patsy say: Grandma got run over by a reindeer. Walking home from our house Christmas eve. You can say there’s no such thing as Santa, but as for me and grandpa we believe.

[Lord Athackkimentham lifts up a bowl full of jelly toward the ceiling.]

LA: This is the belly of Santa, and I eat of thee.

[Lord Athackkimentham pulls out a spoon and eats a spoonful of jelly. He puts that down and then lifts up a chalice.]

LA: This milk represents the beard of Santa, and I drink of thee.

[Lord Athackkimentham takes a sip from the chalice.]

UVW: How can you drink that? Ewww.

[Uber Vamp goes back to work on the woman’s neck. Fade to white.]

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I’m ready!

March 14th, 2007
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Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is back in his office, oddly dressed like Lance Armstrong. Nurse Heidi walks in…]

NH: Okay, I’m not even going to ASK what you’re doing…

SMP: [shrugs] What?

Nurse Heidi

NH: That outfit, you look ridiculous. Did you sign up for the Tour de Cramps? When’s the last time you rode a bike?

SMP: I don’t know, but I need to get my wind up. I need to build my legs up… this Moving Bus Match with douja is the biggest thing this promotion has seen in YEARS. I don’t want to be blown up three minutes in.

NH: A little late to train, don’t you think?

SMP: No. And besides, I’m already in douja’s head. He already KNOWS I’m better than he is. In fact, he left me a voice mail just the other day telling me how I’ve be killing him all these years.

NH: Do you have some nice beach front property in Afghanistan you want to sell me too?

SMP: Oooooooh, a NON believer, huh? Well, listen to this…

*Heidi puts her ear up to SMP’s phone*

NH: What? “Light years ahead of him”? I don’t believe this, and that sounds like Necro Phil to me…

SMP: It’s douja!

NH: It’s Phil, isn’t it?

SMP: NO! It’s douja!

NH: No it’s not, it’s Phil.

SMP: Look , when I wink like this. 😉
It’s means play along with what I’m talking about, okay?
😉

NH: It’s Phil, though. Right?

SMP: 😉

NH: Doctor Plants?

SMP: 😉

NH: Are you going to answer me or just stand there looking stupid?

SMP: 😉

NH: Okay, you’re really starting to creep me out now.

SMP: The 😉 !, Do you not see the 😉 ‘s?

NH: Ummm, do I not see the whats?

SMP: DAMMIT, MAN!

[He composes himself.]

SMP: Despite my script boy’s best efforts to make me look inferior by spelling “putty” and “industries” wrong, douja knows he can’t defeat me. He even admits it.

NH: I think you’ve reached that whole “Terry Funk middle-aged and crazy” part of your career… I think you may have even become certified insane.

SMP: Make light of it if you wish. I know the truth. And the TRUTH, shall set me FREE!

NH: Whatever. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I do know one thing that IS true.

SMP: Really now? What’s that?

NH: You in biker shorts is not very flattering.

SMP: :-[

NH: BWAAA HAAA HAAA!

SMP: What?!

NH: I saw [u]THAT[/u] one! ;D
Maybe I should go for this one – 😎

SMP: Oh really? Maybe this one – 😮

NH: More like- :-/

SMP: >:(

NH: :-*

SMP: 😀

NH: Awwwwww.

SMP: douja! At Living in Sin! I’m Coming to Win! And when I’m finished with you, all your fans… BOTH of them, will have nothing left to do but this! :'(

NH: ::)

SMP: That’s not funny…

NH: 🙂

SMP: Any smillies left?

NH: Not many. 😛

SMP: :-X

NH: Come again?

SMP: :-X

NH: What?

SMP: :-X

NH; I can’t hear you, Doc.

SMP: :-X

NH: Oh well, only one thing left to do… 🙁

[Cut.]

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Joint Jihad

May 28th, 2005
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Rob Van Spam

[We open to an undisclosed, generic looking room which is filled with smoke. All we can hear is someone blowing a whistle and jumping about. The camera moves in and we see Rob Van Spam just finishing a hand-rolled cigarette sitting next to Alan Qaida and Bill Alfalfa.]

RVS: Heyyyy, Mr. Camera Man, what’s up?

Clive: I’m here for your promo.

RVS: Dood, that’s awesome. Uhhhh, what should I talk about?

Clive: Errr, just say how you feel after losing against Atomo at that PPV thing and missing out on getting a title.

Bill Alfalfa: He didn’t lose to Atomo, he was disqualified. Just because the ref is a pussy who doesn’t like seeing people getting put through tables does not mean that he lost to Atomo, just that the ref is a homo.

Clive: Well, it was more like pushed off the side of a table and it is his job to hand out DQs if the match gets too retarded.

BA: The point is I am a much better referee than that damn Generic Ref. I call it straight down the middle baby… when it’s one of these guys making the cover.

RVS: And I’ve got to give props to that douja guy for taking a shit into that washing machine, that was awesome.

Alan Qaida

AQ: …

RVS: Hey, cheer up Sab… uhh Al, we’ll pick up a win one of these days. I am, after all, Mr. Sunday Morning, the whole fudging show…

[RVS points his thumbs at his face.]

RVS: … Rob… Van… Spam.

AQ: …

Clive: How do YOU feel, Al, about what happened at whatever BOB’s last show was?

AQ: …

BA: Al is the most homicidal, regicidal, matricidal terrorist in BOB today! All he cares about is killing those who oppose his EXTREME beliefs with tables and chairs and stuff. Atomo doesn’t seem worth it as he teams up with guys that get pooped into, but that DQ has tarnished our image.

RVS: Mr Camera dude, you wanna toke?

[Van Spam holds out another hand-rolled cigarette to Clive.]

Clive: No thanks, I’ve got to go work on a montage of douja crapping into Unit 5 from different camera angles for the next show.

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Catchin’ up…

April 14th, 2005
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Steve Studnuts

~~~As soon as Hallucination Boy jumps from his practice ladder and “fade it” occurs…. jump cut to some undisclosed location—

[WARNING! UNDISCLOSED LOCATION EQUATES TO A PLACE THAT CANNOT POSSIBLY, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, BE FOUND BY MR. PARADOX, DR. THRILLA, OR ANYBODY ELSE!]

—where you immediately see Steve Studnuts, Connie Lingus, Jizzabelle Cummings, and yes… Muhammad Ali. Steve and Ali are sitting on a white, leather couch, Connie and Jizz are stradling the armrests… Connie is on Steve’s right, Jizz is on Ali’s left… and playing with his hair.~~~

Studs: Hello, kiddies…. I’m just hangin’ out, checkin’ on all the shit that goes on in BOB. If you’d notice to my right, a scantily clad Connie Lingus, whose nipples look like marbles right now, is anxiously awaitin’ this to be over so she can be all over my stick.

Connie: Steve! Knock it off…

Studs: Oh, I’m gonna knock somethin’ off, alright…. I’m gonna knock me off a piece of that snappy whisker biscuit. Ya dig?

[Ali chimes in with a slight whisper and a shaky right hand waving in front of him]

Ali: You know… back in the day….. we called it…. a nappy little sister.

[DISCLAIMER: MUHAMMAD ALI, OR CASSIUS CLAY IF YOU WILL, MOST LIKELY DID NOT REFER TO PUSSY AS A NAPPY LITTLE SISTER]

~~~Steve acts surprised to see Ali~~~

Studs: (sarcastically) Why Muhammad, what on EARTH are you doin’ here? I thought you were….. kidnapped. Heh.

Ali: (whispering again) You know…. I told Smokin’ Joe, that Uncle Tom, not to go down to Manila. He wanted to ring the bell, wanted to be part of somethin’ special…… but how could anybody…. mistake that big, ugly gorilla….. for The Greatest? I’m pretty. I’m so pretty.

Jizz: Yes you are, Mr. Ali. Wanna do it? I can hold it for ya.

Studs: JIZZ! Gatdamn… don’t make light of the man’s Parkinson’s. This man’s a legend. A REAL LEGEND. Like Me. Like Trey. Like Seth…. but not like some fool like douja… who cowers in front of his gatdamn weed pimp like a little bitch over 500 clams. See, I told you guys that ass plug was only back in BOB to get some drug money. He can’t even pay up 5 Bens. Shit, I wipe my ASS with hundreds, jerkweed…. and it usually takes at least six or seven, because you see…. I always have this little bit that hangs on no matter how many times I wipe….

Connie: (interrupting) Steve? You’re getting gross….

Studs: ANY-way… Mr. Paradox, who I’m goin’ to WEAR OUT like a pair of fuckin’ socks, and Dr. Thrilla, who I’m goin’ to BREAK IN HALF like a wafer…. MADE OF NILLA, you two retards can’t even get stealin’ somebody right. By the way, I’d stay the fuck out of Manila if I were you guys, ’cause I’ve sent the authorities pictures of you clowns and they’ve been posted all over the country. And the authorities don’t play around there, they’d just assume shoot your ass than anythin’ else.

Connie: Steve? Are you about finished? I’m really horny.

Studs: Ya know, so am I. That’s why I’m goin’ to wrap this up….then I’m goin’ out to find some strange. That’s always more excitin’.

Connie: But what about me?

Studs: (whiny voice) What about me? What about me? *pffffft* What about Pigeon? (normal voice) You have a vibrator. Hell, you have Ali right here….I’m sure he’s still GREAT enough for a threesome with you and Jizz. Isn’t that right, Champ?

Ali: (whispering) I’ll float like a butterfly…. and sting like a bee.

[SECOND DISCLAIMER: DESPITE THE FACT THAT MUHAMMAD ALI IS LIKE….SIXTY SOME YEARS OLD…. I HAVE NO DOUBT THAT HE COULD STILL HANDLE TWO WOMEN AT THE SAME TIME, BUT I DO HAVE DOUBTS IF HE COULD STILL FLOAT LIKE A BUTTERFLY OR STING LIKE A BEE.]

Studs: (to Connie and Jizz) You guys take care of The Greatest, now…. and be discreet about it. I don’t want Itchy and Scratchy tryin’ to find him and fuck up my plans by takin’ him. Okay?

In closin’, douja…. I apologize about the picture I posted of you a couple of days ago by sayin’ you looked like that guy. I stand corrected… your lips are bigger. YA DIG?! JERKWEED!

We’re outta here… have a nice day. And have fun, Champ.

Ali: (whispering) Oh, I will. I’m gonna shake up their worlds.

Studs: (snickers) No pun intended, right?

~~~cut to static~~~

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The debut of “Chronic Break”!

April 13th, 2005
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douja

(The camera fades in and we see the set of douja’s brand new talk segment, “Chronic Break With douja”. douja is seated at his desk. He is shuffling papers, moving pens around, and packing up the large bong that sits on his desk instead of a coffee mug. He lights the peice and takes a long hit and exhales a huge cloud of smoke. He then looks at the camera and smiles and waves. The camera fades in and he begins to speak.)

douja: the time has come, motha’ fuckas, for a small chronic break! i am yo’ damn host, bob legend and world renowned weed expert, douja.

(The camera turns to the audience. It is filled with cardboard cutouts. Clapping is piped in over the PA system.)

douja: thank you, fucka’s, thank you… you motha fucka’s is too kind! basically, folks, i will have a guest on each episode and we will talk about the simple pleasures of life… you know, all da good shit.. blazin’ blunts, fuckin’ bitches, spittin’ on people, stealin’ stuff, all the things a cool motha’ fucka’ like me does! dat is enough jibba jabba from me though, are you stank ass crackas ready foe da first guest an’ shit?!?

(The camera turns back to the cardboard cutout audience. This time cheers are heard over the PA.)

douja: dat is what da fuck i figured! now, my guest this evenin’ is very close to my heart… dis motha’ fucka’ been with me through da thick an’ da thin.. he is my rock, he is there for me when i ain’t got noone.. it is da man who provides me wit’ dat sweet, sweet cheeba, da best dope dealer in da land…. PEACHEY GARCIA! GET YO SLIMY ASS OUT HERE, PEACHEY!

(Peachey walks out as the cheers are heard again. He has long, greased back black hair that is tied in a pony tail. He is dressed in black alligator shoes, black slacks, and a black leather coat with no shirt underneath. douja goes to shake Peachey’s hand and Peachey quickly pulls out a switch blade. douja acts startled.)

douja: whoa, whoa, what da fuck is goin’ on peachey! i thought we was homies!!

Peachey: Homies? No dirty cockroach who owes Peachey $500 is Peachey’s homie! Peachey wants his money or he is going to start slicing and dicing in this bitch!

douja: damn, peach… you just gonna bust me out like dat? you just gonna bust me out on my own show? i told you last week i was gonna have the money for you! you aint gotta play me on tv like that, you feel me?

Peachey: Peachey could give a fuck about you or tv! Peachey is a business man and you are fucking with Peachey’s business. When you fuck with Peachey’s business, you fuck with his heart! You are breaking Peachey’s heart, douja, breaking it into peices. You know what Peachey does at night when he thinks of this situation at night, my man?

douja: nah.. what?

Peachey: Peachey weeps. He lays in his bed and weeps at the thought of having to cut off your bojangles, grind them in a coffee grinder, brewing a special pot of bojangle coffee for you, and forcing you to drink and enjoy it in the early morning sunlight. This all is an emotional overload for Peachy, you see?

douja: goddamn, nigga, you violent! it is only $500 bills! i thought you was big ballin’, peachey! i thought you did big dope slingin’!

Peachey: Peachey’s business affairs are of no concern to a simple minded son of a bitch much like yourself! You should only be concerned with attaining my $500 and delivering it to me by tommorow. You will also bring Peachey a large pot of spaghetti and meatballs as a sign of good faith. Understood?

douja: c’mon, peachey, i don’t know how to make no damn spaghetti!

Peachey: Peachey is sure you will find a way. You have until tommorow at noon. Peachey does not play games. You will be forced to drink a cup of fresh coffee brewed from the grindings of your bojangles. You bring the money and the spaghetti and we continue to do business. Peachey just got some new shit that will blow your mind. The finest smoke on the west coast. It has been known to collapse lungs.

douja: damn, i need some of that… aight, fine, i will get you da money and pasta.. just put the knife up and quit talkin’ about nut coffee.. shit, you aint have to come embarrassin’ me on my show anyway!

Peachey: Maybe some other time Peachey will return and make for a better guest. Tommorow, douja. Peachey will be waiting.

(Peachey flips his switchblade away and walks off the set.)

douja: fuck, my first motha’ fuckin’ is show ruined! well, dat is all da time we got left, i gotta go hustle $500 bucks somehow.. i guess dat is it for this “chronic break”, see you motha’ fuckin’ crackas next time…. PEACE!!

(douja gets up and runs from his desk. The camera turns back to the cardboard cutouts once again. “How High” by Method Man and Redman plays as the credits roll. Well, not really credits. They actually just read “douja” over and over again. The camera fades out.)

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Like This and LIke That

April 10th, 2005
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douja

(The camera fades into a small, run down looking gym. Standing in the middle of a shabby ring is the first ever BOB Only World Champion That Matters, douja. Beside him is what appears to be a dryer. douja has a wooden baseball bat in his hands and he is puffing on a large joint. The camera continues to fade in as he begins to speak.)

douja: you know, i was thinkin’ and shit, and studnuts was right… i am facin’ a motha’ fuckin’ washin’ machine! what kinda’ return match is dat foe a returnin’ legend? a fucked up one, dats what kind… i am da last bob world champ, the first eva only world champ dat matters.. i been da swiss army champ, tag champ, i done it all! what kinda return is it foe a motha’ fuckin’ hero like me to be in da ring with a washin’ machine? but, im da type of motha’ fucka’ dat looks at the fuckin’ glass as half full.. so, ima’ do what i do best, and whoop fuckin’ ass! you see this dryer, unit 5? dis’ is ya family, kid! you and dis’ motha’ fucka’ right here could have been partners on a load of clothes together back in the day, homie! watch how i do this peice of shit!

(douja taps his feet with the bat, gets in his stance, and take a mighty cut. He totally misses and falls flat on his face. douja jumps up and goes right to bashng the machine. He beats on it for a bit, kicked it over, and spit on it. He then sits on top of it, rests the bat on his shoulder, and lights up another joint. He takes a few puffs then begins to speak again.)

douja: ya see how i get down, unit 5? ya see how i roll? dat is some gangsta shit right dere, bitch! and dats exactly how its goin’ down, homie! and when it is all said and done, and after i whooped yo’ clothes washin’ ass, like i have said befoe’! i am gonna open dat loadin’ door, pop a squat, and shit like a fuckin’ african rhyno! den’ i am gonna send yo’ ass to da junk heap, never to bee seen in bob again! i am back in bob to take whats mine, the only world title dat matters… 2005 is da motha’ fuckin’ year, and douja is back! i blaze more trees den a forrest fire and whoop ass until da day i retire! believe dat!

(douja takes a few more hits from his joint. He then flicks it away.)

douja: now, studnuts, a little message to you, you punk ass cracka! did i ever tell you about da night i spent with ya mama? oh, what a glorious night! i had dat bitch hittin’ high notes she neva’ thought she could! when i woke up in da mornin’, i smelled eggs and bacon comin’ from da kitchen…. i walked in and da bitch was on one knee.. i thought i was gonna get a lil mornin’ glory, but da bitch pulled out an engangement ring! she proposed to me right dere on da fuckin’ spot.. you believe dat? da bitch wanted to put a ring on douja’s finger.. what did i do? i put a motha’ fuckin’ ring around here right eye! yes sir, i socked dat bitch in da eye, den kicked her da fuck out da crib! basically, da moral of da story is ya mama is a dirty slut and you are a bitch.. so kiss my ass studnuts, i hate you! SMOKE DOGG BABY, I BITE HARD!

(douja sits up from the dryer and pulls yet another joint from his pocket. He lights it up, takes a long hit, and blows the smoke into the camera. It fades out.)

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Back to the Future

April 10th, 2005
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Steve Studnuts

~~~Steve’s seen on his BRAND NEW leather sectional, taking in the Back to the Future Trilogy on his BRAND NEW SUPER WIDER THAN THE LAST ONE HE HAD PLASMA SCREEN for two reasons… one, it’s the first thing his writer could think of the keep the running “Back” gag in the subject blocks and two…he simply digs the series. Steve’s enjoying Part Two, and it’s at the part where Marty McFly’s “borrowed” hoverboard just stalled out over the water in front of the old clock tower. Steve’s not paying attention now, he’s beginning to daydream about having his own time machine so he could go back in time and have sex with chicks like Rita Hayward, Marilyn Monroe, and Jane Fonda in their primes. Connie interrupts, holding a video tape~~~

Connie: Steve? I found this in the trash…. are you hiding home made porn from me again?

Studs: Huh? GATDAMMIT! I was just gettin’ ready to get it on with Barbarella…. What? What’s that? Home made porn? Why would I hide that?

Connie: I don’t know, I’m just asking…. you usually don’t hide ’em in the trashcan…

Studs: Ooooh, wait a minute. That’s that shit from Dr. Thrilla. I watched that this mornin’, he seems to think I have a match with Mr. Paracox-in-his-mouth even though I checked the upcomin’ events and have no such match scheduled with him. Hell, my TITLE BELT has a match at the PPV, but I’m not on there yet. So, Dr. Thrilla has no excuse not to face me. He was right about a couple of things, though…. I could beat Mr. Paracox until my fuckin’ arms fell off and I’d still have enough left over for Thrilla. And NO FAN in the world would argue about seein’ me twice in a night…. that’s a fact.

But since I don’t see anythin’ about me havin’ a match with that jerkweed, Paracox….it looks like it’s gonna be me, THE TANNED, VANILLA, GORILLA…. DOWN IN MANILLA, WHERE I WILLA, KILLA, DR. FUCKIN’ THRILLA.

And THAT….IS A FACT!

Connie: So I can throw this away? (holds up video)

Studs: You can stick it up your ass and spin around on it for all I care.

Connie: You’re an asshole…

Studs: Tell me somethin’ I don’t know… I gotta call Trey, he has some bookin’ stroke. I WILL get my match with Dr. Metal Mouth… and when I get my hands on him, I’m gonna rip off his steel teeth, and pound his fuckin’ face into mush. Then he can spend the next couple of months drinkin’ his meals. Ya dig?

Connie: I’m going back to bed…

Studs: Whatever, I need to go RIGHT now, and call Trey. He’s gotta hook this up for me. Man, he’s gotta hook me up!

And douja, if you’re watchin’ this… mind your own fuckin’ affairs, washin’ machine boy. By the way, Unit 5 was hangin’ out here the other night at my party… he told me to pass this along to ya…

*RUMBLE * RUMBLE*

BWAAAA HAAA HAAAAA!

Loser….

~~~cut to static~~~

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