Posts Tagged ‘Dr. Silaconne M. Plants’

March Mayhem 2009 Results!

April 15th, 2009
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Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, Brawlers On a Budget‘s ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, shocked the parody e-wrestling world on March 11 when (in an attempt to ‘prove’ himself as the greatest ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS of all time) he proclaimed that he would defend THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS in the original March Mayhem Tournament format.

SMP put up his title in a non-booked 65 man tournament based on the outcomes of NCAA tournament games. BOB wrestler fortunes were determined by the teams they were matched up with. For example, if one of BOB’s wrestlers got paired with the Kansas Jayhawks and Kansas won the National Championship, then that person would have become the new ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS.

It was unprecedented. It was crazy. Why would a champion do this? Why would a champion that could skate to Gluttons for Punishment 2 to face Kobe Gyant in a Steel Cage match risk losing his title beforehand and ruin a saucy main event?

Because, as SMP said at the time, “I’m the best. And Carolina should win this year.”

The NCAA “March Madness” tournament is always unpredictable. Now you can relive all the action as 65 men, women, and inanimate objects seek to become the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS in March Mayhem 2009!

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Studnuts vs. SMP (NSFW)

November 22nd, 2008
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Steve Studnuts

~~~Steve Studnuts is seen sitting at his computer with the eWmania forums filling the monitor. He scrolls a little, clicks on a subject link or two, then leans back in his chair and sighs deeply. He scratches his head. He reads some more.

Then Connie Lingus, his houseguest arguably hanging around to mooch more than keep the place clean, walks into shot. She looks every bit of Cindy Crawford, Angie Everhart, Sarah Michelle Gellar and Darva Conger. Mostly Darva Conger, especially when it’s cold in the house.

Steve grumbles some more at the screen as Connie strikes up conversation.~~~

Connie: What ya doing, Steve? Plotting revenge against Plants?

Steve: Of course. I’m always doin’ that. If he’d return my calls, I’d fuck with him even more. He’s avoidin’ me. Maybe he’s busy fuckin’ up titties at one of his hack shops. I don’t know…

But I see that despite my repeated calls and us nearly killing his dumb ass at October Surprise in Snore Games, that fucker found the time to enter his promo for the eWmania Championship Tournament. He can’t answer his phone, but he can do that? Funny thing is, he never does a gatdamn promo here but he was the first to do one there. Then Death did his promo. Fuckin’ BOB guys. Lazy as fuck usually, but they are the first two to post in that tournament, I never would have guessed it. Imagine that. The deadline is tomorrow night, a minute till mid, and only three people have said a word. Plants, Death, and some fuck knuckle named Jason Kain.

Connie: Who’s that?

Studs: Fuck if I know. Some dumb fuck that thinks he’s the biggest star in the indy scene, getting million dollar contracts tossed at him. In the fuckin’ independents? Yeah, like they have a fuckin’ million bucks. Get real, dude.

A buddy of mine told me that Kain’s dick must’ve been really tiny when he did that interview. Heh. And they say I have an ego?

Even better, this Kain guy said the tournament would be over when he won it. He’s goin’ to feel really fuckin’ stupid when he doesn’t. Big mouth fucker.

Connie: I take it you don’t like him.

Studs: Like him? I don’t even fuckin’ KNOW him. I haven’t had the time to get to the point where I DON’T like him. Which I wouldn’t. The guy’s a pussy tit weak fuck. He says Death is probably a goofy character that belongs to a fed that relies on joke premises to get over? I’m in BOB, motherfucker. Am I a goofy character? Does this sound like a fuckin’ joke to you? You’re lucky I don’t come on down there to eWmania tournament land and rip your fuckin’ lungs out through your asshole, superstar.

Connie: Oh, stop being a goofy character. You wanna turkey pot pie?

Studs: Mmmm, that sure is temptin’. But I got blackmailin’ to do. Bring me my cell phone.

~~~Connie leaves and moments later, does in fact hand Steve his cell phone.~~~

Studs: This is goin’ to be good…

~~~He waits as the phone rings. After about the fifth ring, a “hello” is heard through the receiver.~~~

Studs: Doc! Buddy, how’s it goin’, jerkweed? [Steve shoos Connie away with a wave of his hand.]

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

~~~The televised promo on your screen splits into two pictures, diagonally separated evenly from top right to bottom left. Studnuts occupies the upper left screen, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is in the bottom right screen laying in a hospital bed and heavily bandaged.~~~

Studs: So, you’re NOT dead after all. Fuckin’ pity. I thought we killed you.

SMP: Nope. I’m still kicking. You’re not going to stop me until I take that ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS from you at MEGABRAWL II. Ten years I’ve waited to get my hands on that title. Ten long years. I will NOT be denied.

Studs: Pffft. Whatever. You’ll never win that belt, Plants. You’ll fuckin’ choke like you always do. Speakin’ of which, since you booked yourself into the match, I assume you also booked what type of match it’s gonna be, right?

SMP: Sure did.

Studs: How about sharin’ that info with the rest of us, fuck hole.

SMP: It’s going to be the exact same match I last won a major championship in… the NICOLAS CAGE MATCH!

Studs: Oh goody, a cage match with Nic Cage DVD’s attached to the walls. I’m scared. I’m shaking. I shit myself. Puh-lease!

SMP: I’ve never lost one.

Studs: So? How many have you been in?

SMP: Well… I’ve been in one.

Studs: Against?

SMP: Neige Thirteen.

Studs: BWAAA HAAA HAAAAAA! That guy was banned from the promotion at the time! How could you NOT have won that?

SMP: It was a tough match…

Studs: No, you ain’t fuckin’ seen tough yet. Which reminds me, since it seems like you get to make up all the rules lately, I have some stips of my own for this one.

SMP: Stips?

Studs: Yeah, motherfucker. Stips! Stipulations. You know, put up or fuckin’ shut up stuff. I’m puttin’ up the ONLY and my half of the tag straps, you’re puttin’ up the Swiss and your half of the tag straps, you picked the match so now I get to have some fun. You also have to put up your career.

SMP: Huh?

Studs: Retire, fuck wad. It’s YOUR match, you can’t win it you have to fuckin’ retire.

SMP: I ain’t gonna do it! I can’t put my career up against the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS, that’s too much pressure!

Studs: Oh no, you WILL do it. If not, I’ll close all your titty butcher clinics and put you out of business!

SMP: You’re blackmailing me?

Studs: You gatdamn right I am. I’ll close them all down, “Girl’s Breast Friend” on Areola Avenue and Mammary Lane, “Titties R Us” down on Nipple Drive and B Cup Boulevard, and even that new one you just opened, “Leave it to Cleavage!”

SMP: You’re a rat bastard!

[SMP pauses and thinks for a second or two]

Wait a minute…. you can’t close down my clinics. It’s free enterprise. I have the right to run my business outside of BOB.

Studs: Not without fuckin’ clients, jerkweed.

SMP: Okay. You have my attention.

Studs: I visited “Tit Jobs Gone Wrong” earlier today on the web and the site had thousands of testimonials from chicks whose fun bags got all fucked up. Most of them were done by you.

SMP: That’s ridiculous.

Studs: Oh really? Check this out…

~~~Steve sends SMP this picture over the cell phone. The Doc looks at it momentarily and responds~~~

Boobies 1

SMP: That’s not mine. I’ve never seen her before in my life.

Studs: You don’t say? She wrote a message below the image: “Dr. Plants, LOOK what you did to me, you quacker ass quacker! I hope you rot in Hell.” Signed, douja’s ole lady.

SMP: **snicker** Don’t….know….. her. **snicker**

Studs: What about this poor bitch?


SMP: Not a clue who that is…

Studs: She wrote: “Thank you so much, Dr. Plants…”

SMP: SEE! She’s happy! Another satisfied customer…

Studs: You didn’t let me finish, ass gobbler. “Thank you so much, Dr. Plants… for making me look like a goddamned freak! You need to die a slow, painful death, and just before you die, while you can still feel it, maggots should crawl up your pee hole and eat your testicles! I HATE YOU!”

SMP: Yikes.

Studs: Or this one?


SMP: Ummm, she doesn’t ring a bell.

Studs: I bet she fuckin’ could, standin’ 5 feet from it, with her fuckin’ nipples.

SMP: I don’t know her!

Studs: Maybe you’ll remember THIS one?


SMP: Oh Lord. Those look terrible!

Studs: Yeah, she’s not too fond of you either.

SMP: Again, I’ve never met any of these women.

Studs: Bet you’ve seen HER before!


SMP: Good God!

Studs: She writes: “Dr. Plants, I’m constantly squirting silicone out of my super deformed breasts because of your stupid, ignorant, non-medical no-having skills fucking self. I’ll kill you if I ever see you again!”

SMP: I can see why she’s upset, but I didn’t have anything to do with that.

Studs: Right, and U of A knows when to fuckin’ foul at the end of a game. Listen, Plants, either you put up your career, or I’ll plaster these chicks all over every one of your clinics, you’ll never touch a titty again.

SMP: Alright, you got me. I’ll put my career up.

Studs: Say it like I wanna hear it, fucker.

SMP: If I can’t defeat you at MEGABRAWL II and win THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS… I’ll retire from Brawler’s on a Budget.

Studs: I know most of the fuckin’ smart marks out there think that’s an automatic win for you right there, but you fuckin’ people would be wrong. You see, Plants is old. The game’s past his ass. I’m thinkin’ about jumpin’ to other promotions and spreadin’ the love like Trey did. Doin’ so leaves less time for old SMP. Ya dig?

So don’t go bettin’ the fuckin’ farm on him just yet.

SMP: It’s a deal.

Studs: Oh no, I ain’t done. Nurse Heidi is the special referee, and when I’ve won, not only do you have to retire, you have to film “Heidi’s Anatomy, Part 2” starring Nurse Heidi, and STEVE STUDNUTS! That’s right, Doc, you get to be the CAMERA MAN, and I want you to zoom in real close when I splooge all over your girl.

SMP: She’s not my girl.

Studs: Sure, Plants. What the fuck ever.

SMP: Hey, hold on. Did you say, “Heidi’s Anatomy, Part 2”?

Studs: Yeah, I did.

SMP: So there’s a part one?

Studs: Duh? Are you fuckin’ stupid? YEAH! There’s a part one! Didn’t you see it? I sent it to you months ago…

SMP: No.

Studs: You RPed about it, fuckstick.

SMP: Oh yeah, Heidi grabbed it and ran off.

Studs: Yeah, she’s good at grabbin’ and jerkin’ off.

SMP: I said RAN OFF.

Studs: I don’t give a shit what you said. Do we have a deal, or what?

SMP: I said it already! We have a deal!

Studs: Heh. This is too easy. Do you think Heidi is actually gonna count me out? I know she wants to ride the pole again.

SMP: I got your pole, right here, pal. I’ll see you at MEGABRAWL II!


~~~Steve looks into the camera~~~

Studs: Plants, I almost don’t’ want MEGABRAWL II to get here. The fuckin’ suspense is awesome. I hope it lasts.

Unfortunately for me, it will get here, and the suspense will be gone.

Unfortunately also for you, because MEGABRAWL II is gonna eventually get here… and when it does, and that cage is locked, I’m gonna beat your fuckin’ ass until you’re fuckin’ transparent. Ya dig?

This shit ain’t even gonna be funny.

Whether you agreed to the retirement stip or not, after MEGABRAWL II you wouldn’t have had any other option. The poundin’ I have planned, even if you, by some fuckin’ miracle, win this match… you’re gonna have to retire anyway.

Unlike this time with the blackmail, your retirement after MEGABRAWL II will be from necessity, not by contractual obligations. Ya dig?

I’m gonna fuckin’ beat you to death. Period.

Get it? Got it? GOOD!



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Yes. We. Can.

November 5th, 2008
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“I have a dream.”
– Axl… Savior Elect

[The camera opens…]

[… to 11pm]

[… to Chicago]

[… to November 4th, 2008.]

B.O. : America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves – if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made? This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time – to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth – that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we cant, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America.

[Something has happened.]

[On this day…]

[On this night…]

[Change has happened.]

[Yes… change has happened. Our camera pans across the humongous crowd… before switching to scenes all across the world, all of people reacting much the same as those in Chicago…]

[… Before finally opening outside the Residence of Evil.]

[Change has happened.]

[For what was once decked out as a simple home, bearing just a slight resemblence to a castle, has been paved over… and REPLACED with a castle. An actual, wood, stone, and brick castle, erected so tall that it casts a shadow over all that surrounds it. The drawbridge lowers down… resting across an actual moat, some twenty feet wide, leaving little room between the moat and the street. Two guards step through the giant door… and stand on either side of it, gripping one flag a piece… the left guard holding the American flag… the Right Guard ™ holding the new flag of Sinister City, which is a black flag, pre-made to be tattered and torn, with a skull adorned with a crown. Below the crowned skull there lies one simple word ;]


[A trumpeteer marches through the door… blasting out “You Know You’re Right” in perhaps the absolute worst rendition of a Nirvana song EVER…]

[Axl follows through… and shoves the trumpet player from the bridge, sending him flying into the moat… where he is eagerly ripped to shreds and feasted upon by a horde of hungry crocodiles. Blood spreads throughout the water…]

[Axl stands tall upon the wooden surface of the freshly crafted drawbridge, wearing a long, flowing, yet totally trashed robe, and a crown upon his head. He removes a black baseball bat from within his robe… and rests it down upon his shoulder.]

[He smiles.]

Axl: Studnuts. Yeah, you… JERKWEED! Guess what? YOU LOST!

[A little yellow kid with brown hair and a blue vest walks on screen… points at the camera… and cackles.]

Nelson Muntz: HA-HAH!!!

[He then walks away… as Axl scratches his head.]

Axl: Huh… don’t remember seeing that kid around town… ANYWAY. Stevie… I’m sorry, but it seems as though “The Mac” got Barack Rolled!!! 367 to 171?! Dude, Barack whooped…that…ASS!

[The little yellow kid steps back into the picture…]

Nelson Muntz: I reiterate… HA-HAH!!!

[…before once again taking his leave.]

Axl: … I seriously need to hire some better knights… the security around this place is crap. Just like McCain’s chances of winning, STEVE-O!

[I thought you said in another rant that you were a Republican?]

Axl: Uh…

[This is just a desperate attempt to get a match with Studs, isn’t it?]

Axl: Well… YES. But I deserve a GREAT match at MegaBrawl 2, and seeing as Great obviously won’t accept an invite… I GOTTA FIND SOMEBODY! I will NOT be the girl that doesn’t have a date to the prom!

[Girl? Shouldn’t that be boy? Unless you’re hiding something that, well, everyone’s pretty much known since your arrival here?]

Axl: … I’M NOT GAY!

[Besides, you’re, phff, “fired”. Of course, that’s apparently not stopping you from competing at October Surprise…]

Axl: WHAT?! What are you insinating?! Of course I’m fired!

[Then why are begging anyone and anybody for a match at MB II?

Axl: Er… I forgot! I’ve got a bad memory, man… A really… bad memory. … HONEST.

[What a pity. Perhaps one of THE biggest events in the history of our nation just occured… and you’re busy trying to scrounge up a match for a BoB On-Demand.]

Axl: Not just ANY BoB On-Demand, dammit! The biggest BoB On-Demand in our country’s history. An On-Demand event that will begin a HUUUGE change in how America perceives our nation’s greatest icon.

[… Ronald McDonald?]


[… PHFF, hahahahahahaha!]

[Nelson Muntz returns on screen, and begins to point at Axl, and presumabely laugh his fool head off… when Axl grabs ahold of the poor kids head, lifts him up above his own head, and tosses Nelson from the drawbridge, down into the waiting jaws of a croc. Axl then points down toward the moat…]

Axl: HA-HAH!!!

[Axl looks back into the camera.]

Axl: Ahem… excuse me for that, but there’s just something about kids that I simply detest. Something… evil. More evil than even I. And we just can’t have that, now can we?

Axl: Two weeks from now… I’ll have been in this company for two years. And for two years… two… long… years… I’ll have felt the greatest opression that any American citizen has EVER felt. An opression greater than that felt by chicks, jews and black dudes. An opression even greater than that felt by a black jew chick! Two years ago, I was a rookie. A rookie believing that he stood a chance of one day becoming the Only World Champion That Matters. And I did hold that title… I held that title, and I held the Swiss Army Title. And I held the leadership of the Hierarchy… the mayorship of this city, my Kingdom… and I held the distinction of being the only hair band leader in BoB history. But what happened to it all? I asked myself that earlier… staring into the mirror at a man wearing a rusty crown. I asked myself that… and the answers began to flood my mind.

The hair band? Gone. Because let’s face it, the only people who like hair metal are women over thirty… and those vile, dreadful gays.

The Hierarchy? Gone. Let’s face it, Kurt’s pretty much struck out on his own, which leaves me, Michelle, and my brother. Not much of a stable.

The Swiss Army Title? Gone… but more importantly? The Only World Title that Matters ; GONE. All because of that DAMN iAd…

Axl: But hey, I’ve gotta look at the silver lining, right? Grunge is sooo much better than glam. And why have a stable when the greatest brothers in wrestling can just form a tag team that surpasses even the nWo and DX COMBINED? And yes, there’s always the mayorship. I AM the King of Sinister City… and forever will be.

Axl: But the OWTTM… that is perhaps the greatest evidence that exists to point towards BoB’s opression of its very own Savior. Things are coming easy for today’s rookies… guys like Kobe Gyant, Stephen Hawking, and of course, that bastard, The Great. They’ve all entered BoB, and been HANDED the ball… while I? I had to scratch, I had to claw… I had to kill or be killed… and even then? Even then, I was left with nothing. Nothing but my girl, my bro, and the power over every Citizen in this city. But when it comes to BoB… well, I never was given a fair shake. And that ulimately led to me being fired… and disgraced. And all I have to show for it are the scars that still tarnish my gorgeous physique… the scars left by that CAD Sillicone M. Plants.

Axl: There are so many people to thank for the hell that’s been the past two years… The iAd, especially Steve Studnuts… Doc M. Plants… The Great… Death… Pigeon… and of course, the man… or should I say THING, that my bro faces at October Surprise ; American Panda. If it wasn’t for that panda, why… I would have never been fired in the first place! That’s right, you overgrown teddy bear! I KNOW what you did!

Axl: I know what you did… LAST SUMMER!

Axl: That’s right, I remember it like it were yesterday… And I bet you do as well, A.P. Remember? July 5th? UnFourGiven… it was the Beer in the Belly Ladder match. Now, I bet I know what you’re all thinking. What does A.P. have to do with the Beer in the Belly match, eh? I mean, you probably think A.P. couldn’t have POSSIBLY had anything to do with it… what with him not being in BoB and all, right? WRONG! It is a fact, a stone cold FACT, that American Panda… is actually Dr. THRILLA!!! You have all recognized by now that A.P. wears a mask? Have any of you wondered WHY? It should be obvious, but unfortunately, it takes a genius, such as myself, to unravel even the simplest of things for you people. The Truth is, underneath that mask, there hides the doctor we all THOUGHT fell into an Inescapable Pit of No Escape… but who in actuallity was none other than Garth Vader and Garth Maul’s father, Garth Sidious! That guy was just as ugly as Thrilla. Well… almost.

Axl: Thrilla took the case that was rightfully mine, fled the country for the past four months… and now? He’s returned, under a mask, and I BET you that when October Surprise rolls around, that bastard, Dr. ThrillAmerican Panda, will be the one to cash in the Beer in the Belly! And you want in on a little secret? He didn’t buy it on eTrey, like the big wigs in Brawler Tower over there in Bobford, Connecticut will tell you. Oh, no, no, no… He was HANDED the case, just like Hawking, Gyant, and The Great have been handed everything their entire stay here. And he was handed it by Trey Vincent himself! Because Dr. M Plants told him to! Because Steve Studnuts told him to! Because Death told him to! Because Pigeon told HIM to! It’s all a conspiracy I tell you! It’s all been a plot to keep me away from the OWTTM!!! It’s the Truth! It’s real! It’s a fact! It’s a DAMN fact!

[You really are nuts, aren’t you?]

Axl: You hush up, this doesn’t concern you! But what it all comes down to is this ; I’ve been held back from the OWTTM for too damn long. The only run I’ve had with it was a one month reign, which was cut short due to the MERE fact that the iAd cost me the title, and has nothing to do with me “trashing the title”, no matter WHAT you may believe.

[… But, uh, Axl? That IS the reason. That’s sorta why the iAd cost you the belt in the first place…]

Axl: LIES! All lies!

[But Axl -]

Axl: (covers ears and begins to scream) I’M NOT LISTENING, I’M NOT LISTENING, I’M NOT LISTENIIINGGG!!!

[Oh for pity’s sake…]

Axl: (uncovers ears) I’m not paranoid! I don’t have anger issues, I don’t take things too seriously… I’M PERFECT! And yet, the BoB administration, the BoB Substars, and the BoB FANS… what little of those there are… have all shunned me… and shackled me. I deserve better! I’ve always deserved better! I deserve better than anyone in this City… this country… I deserve better than anyone on the entire planet Earth!!! I AM A GOD! I AM A SAINT!! I AM A SAVIOR!!!

And it’s about fucking time somebody recognized this.

Axl: I have the intelligence to lead this city to becoming not only the capitol of Utah… but the capitol of the United States of America. I have the strength, the speed, and the sheer FORCE to lead the Hierarchy Brothers to a tag team title reign… and to become the OWCTM for a second time. And I have the talent, the ability, the skill, the power, and the unmatched EVIL-NESS… to lead BoB to becoming the most elite promotion in all of sports entertainment! BoB could be defeating WWE on a weekly basis right now… but they’re not. And why is this? Because they haven’t trusted me with the reigns… and yet, they do trust some fool like The Great-er Tot, some spineless coward like Silly Putty M. Plants, and some shiftless BITCH like Steven NumbNuts!!! They trust this lot of piss-poor piss-ants… but do they trust me? No…

But that will change.

I’ve never felt true acceptance in this company… in the entirety of my two years here, I’ve always felt like a second class citizen.

But that will change.

While others have risen to Greatness… While other have been deemed “Stupendous”, and been to made feel like a Gyant among men… I’ve felt like a man with no home. A homeless man if you will.


But that WILL change.

[Uhm, how exactly do you plan on changing it, if you really ARE “fired”? Hm?]

Axl: Uh…

[Yup, that’s what I thought.]

Axl: REGARDLESS! I’ve been told that I’ll never be on par with the other members of the roster for two full years… I’ve been told that I’m not on level with Studnuts, or M. Plants, or Death, or Trey, or even that idiot Great.

They’ve told me I can’t stand toe to toe with the main event players… They’ve told me I can’t defeat them. I’m here to tell them… To tell you ALL…

Yes. I. Can.

And yes I will…

Axl: And it all begins with October Surprise.

Axl: American Panda… if that is your real name. Change is coming… and it begins with you.

|th –

[Wait a second… if “Viruz” is facing American Panda…]



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Anything Is Possible!

November 5th, 2008
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Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

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

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

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


SMP: What?

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

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

NH: Huh?

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

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

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

NH: Like fried chicken in the White House?

SMP: WHAT?! You can’t say that!

NH: Well, isn’t it the same?

SMP: That’s more like racial profiling…

NH: Toe-MAY-toe, toe-MAH-toe…

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

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

A black president… ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!

NH: Like you winning the eWmania tournament?

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




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

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October 23rd, 2008
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Katie Death, a zombie who dresses in a cheerleader uniform, was washing the dishes with blood in the sink when her husband, Death, walked into the room. God’s Hitman opened up the refrigerator, looked around, and then slammed the door shut.

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

“Braains!” Katie roared.

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

“Braaaains!” Katie replied.

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


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


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

“Brains brains brains brains brains brains!”

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


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


“You want out? That’s FINE with me!”

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


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

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

“Rar?” the zombie queried.

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

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

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

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

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

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

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

[He pauses to listen.]

SMP: No, I can’t guarantee my work.

[He pauses again.]

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

[More pausing.]

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

[He listens some more.]

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

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

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

Nurse Heidi

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

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

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

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

SMP: Well I’m not!

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

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

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

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

NH: Whatever! I still think it was horrible.

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

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

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

[SMP contemplates his gaffe.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NH: You’re despicable!

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

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

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

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

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

[She hands him the wrapped package.]

SMP: It looks like a video cassette.

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

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


[She grabs the tape and runs off.]

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

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

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

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

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

[He opens another letter and begins to read.]

SMP: Latest from MB:

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

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

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

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

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


[Fade out to SMPROTFLHFAO.]

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Fiddy Dollah

October 2nd, 2008
Comments Off on Fiddy Dollah


Axl: …

Michelle: What is it?

Axl: I need fifty dollars.

Michelle: Well, sitting on your ass, watching “Sanford and Son” reruns isn’t going to help…

Axl: … Fuc-

> > > an hour later < < < Viruz

[We open to Viruz’s room, where he’s sitting, cross-legged, in his Super Mario Bros. pj’s, tapping away at his trusty laptop… his favorite possesion.]

Vi: A few more minutes, and I’ll have cracked into the U.S. voting system! I’ll be able to successfully change ALL votes for McCain and Obama… to votes for my favorite candidate ; BILL!

Vi’s Imaginary Friend, Lester : Bill Clinton’s not running. His wife tried, but…

Vi: Not Bill CLINTON! Bill GATES! Duhh~!!!1 You’re SUCH a n00b, Lester…

“Lester” : Hey, atleast I’m not the one who’s so desperate for a friend that he resorts to having an imaginary buddy well into his late 20s…

Vi: … Fuck off, Lester.

“Lester”: Yeah, yeah, that’s all you ever say… Man, you annoy me, and I don’t even EXIST…

*knock, knock*

Vi: Who’s there?

Axl: Candy gram.

Vi: Oh get in here ya jackass!

[Axl does so.]

Vi: You’ve been watching too many old SNL repeats…


Vi: *sigh* What are you doing in here? Make it quick, because I’ve got something very important to do on my laptop.

Axl: What, jack off to Jerri Li’s last rant? That video of that asian chick getting gack poured on her got you all hot and bothered, didn’t it?

Vi: NO!!! … Now, that one with the sucker, on the other hand…

Axl: Hey, lemme see your laptop real quick, I’ve gotta check my e-mail!

Vi: No! Dude – *Axl yanks the computer away* – HEY! Dammit bro, gimme it back!

Axl: Hey, what’s all this election shit for? Dude, this is lame… Meh, I’ll just exit out of this boring junk.

Vi: Wha- NO!!! You son-of-a- … JUST OPEN ANOTHER TAB!

Axl: Man, they call ME a hot head…

Vi: But I have a REASON to be pissed off! You’re ruining all that hard work I just put into getting our nation’s greatest hero elected as president!

Axl: Greatest… hero? … So you were trying to get ME elected as president?! Awww, shit, sorry dude… DAMMIT! … This is all your fault!

Vi: I- … WHAT?! MY fault?! How the hell is it MY fault?!

Axl: You shoulda known better than tah trust me with your stupid laptop! Hell, my computer’s in constant ‘safety mode’, just in case I accidentally delete the hard drive!

Vi: … You CAN’T delete the hard drive. … It’s HARDWARE.

Axl: … Well see, I didn’t even know that, how do you expect me to work this fancy shmancy thing?

Vi: *grabs the laptop back* From now on, keep your DAMN hands off my stuff, ok? Seriously… and FYI, you’re NOT this country’s greatest hero! Bill Gates is!

Axl: … Who?

Vi: … Just tell me what you came in here for.

Axl: Well, I was wondering. Do you still have some of those Wii-Station 360s lying around?

Vi: Uh… well, not here, but I know where the planes dropped them all. Not too far off from those huge heaps of E.T. games for the Atari 2600 they disposed of years and years ago…

Axl: Huh. Well then, have I got a proposition for you!

Vi: I hope it’s not another pyramid scheme…

Axl: Even better! Picture this… The RE-LAUNCH… of the X-Station Wii60!

Vi: … Welp, good luck with all that. Meanwhile, I’ll be working on my laptop…

Axl: No! I mean you and I! Together! Rebuilding the empire of the greatest system to ever exist in the history of HISTORY!

Vi: … The DreamCast?

Axl: … NO! The X-Station Wii60!!! Jesus mother fuckin’ CHRIST, get on the damn ball man!

Vi: Yeah, there’s the hothead we’ve all come to know and loathe…

Axl: You and I, the Hierarchy Brothers, putting to together a truly awesome work of art! Painting a masterpiece! You and I… giving life to the Wii60, so it may rise from the ash, and fullfill its destiny as the forerunner of the System Wars! Because a system with all three of the current generation systems’ titles combined… has GOT to be better than all three of the current generation systems combined! Or atleast better. … Or maybe worse.

Vi: Believe me, it was worse before… far worse… and it’s not going to get any less worse. It could only get worse…er.

Axl: So, you call up the people who dumped all those consoles in New Mexico or Arizona or France, or wherever that place was, and you have them start putting those things back on the shelves buster, because SOON… in about… 10 days to be exact, the second first game to come out for the Wii60 will debut!

Vi: Ugh… alright, for the simple fact that, other than screwing with the election results, I have absolutely nothing to do… I guess I’ll go along with this retarded plan. Give me a few days to design a game idea, and I’ll run it past ya, ok?

Axl: Uhm… nah, I already know what I want you to make.

Vi: … But dude, I’m the guy who MADE this system… I planned everything, and I think –

Axl: Sorry man, I really don’t have time to put any thought into this. I just need to make this thing as quick as possible, sell one copy for fifty bucks, and hand the cash over to Trey, so –

Vi: Whoa, wait a minute… Trey? … Does this have anything to do with BoB?

Axl: Uhhh… nope. Can’t say that it does…

Vi: So who’s Trey? … Say, you don’t have an imaginary friend too… do you?

Axl: … What?

Vi: SOOO, about this game… what’s your idea?

Axl: Well, I was thinking… Total Non-Stop Action Wrestling has a game, right?

Vi: They do? … What’s Total Non-Stop Action Wrestling? Is it another WWE brand? Jeez, first they destroy the legacy of ECW, and now they’re coming up with lamer sounding show titles than Sunday Morning Chloroform…

Axl: Total Non-Stop Action Wrestling is the only televised wrestling company other than WWE.

Vi: Oh… you mean they’re actually on TV?

Axl: Yeah… on Spike?

Vi: … Dudley?

Axl: NO! Argh, forget it, just think of it like this. They’re a wrestling company, and they have a game. And they’re a wrestling company that someone like you, whose entire life has consisted of nothing but wrestling and gaming, has never heard of. So seriously… how hard can it be to make a successful wrestling game?

Vi: I dunno… seeing as I’ve never heard of ’em, I’m not so sure if the game WAS successful… in fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a safe bet it wasn’t…

Axl: Well, ok, let me rephrase that. How hard can it be to sucker SOMEONE into buying atleast one copy? Maybe even a whole stack! Door stoppers are always in high demand… Higher than crappy wrestling games, anyway…

Vi: Well… ok. What kinda wrestling game ya want?

Axl: I’m thinking… TNA : iMPLOSION! .

Vi: … You said TNA already has a game out… wouldn’t you rather make a BoB game? Besides, couldn’t this “TNA” sue?

Axl: Nooo, see, this TNA is ‘Total Non-Action Wrestling’! The other TNA’s game is ‘iMPACT!’, while this game is ‘iMPLOSION!’. iMPLOSION! is BoB’s tv show on G5… dude, you know that!

Vi: Meh, I never pay much attention to what’s going on in the world around me. My life on the computer is good enough for me.

Axl: *smacks forehead* Just re-shelve the consoles, make the game, and ship those games out A.S.A.P.!

Viruz: So much for this being a “partnership”…

Axl: Hey! We’re still a team, man! I’ll be busy, sitting here at the castle, on the couch, watching “Sanford and Son” reruns!

Viruz: … But… how does that help the team?

*door slams*

Viruz: … Fuc-

> > > a day or so later < < < > > > close-up of newspaper headline :
– Local man buys crappy wrestling game for fifty dollars. Sues developer for fifty dollars. –

> > > close-up of a quote from purchaser :
“I lost five hours of my life to this game’s stupid story mode! Come on, the guy is beat up in the desert, and is forced to undergo plastic surgery, by some clod named Sillicone M. Plants. Every character you end up with has gazongas out to the moon! AND YOU CAN’T PLAY AS A CHICK! Who on God’s green Earth is gonna play a game where every guy ya play as ends up with fucked up orangutan titties?! It STINKS!”

[We find Axl holding the paper, with his fists gripping the pages… shaking with anger.]

Viruz: So… kinda sucks that was the only guy who bought the game… eh?

Axl: … FUC-

> > > several hours later < < < [Vi returns to the house, after being dressed up as American Panda, and "beaten up" by his brother. He holds an ice pack to his forehead walking into the house... But as soon as he's out of Axl's sight and sound, Vi quits the act, and drops the ice into a cup... pouring himself a glass of beer. He chugs it down in about three seconds flat, before heading into his bedroom.] Vi: Thank God I saved that copy of the instructions to hack into the voting system... I might be able to finish my work after all... Vi: Hold on... where's my damn laptop??? [Vi looks throughout the room, but finds no trace of the computer... finally, Axl steps into the room. Vi stares at him... And as he sees a crisp fifty dollar bill in Axl's hand, it dawns on him.] Vi: YOU BASTARD! Axl: Huh? Dude, chill-ax! Don't have a cow, bro. Vi: You... you... AGGHH!! You SOLD my laptop! For fifty dollars!!! Axl: ... *looks down at the fifty dollar bill in his hand* Ohhh, this? Uhhh... yeah... yeah, I guess I did. But, DUDE, when I kick Trey's ass and take that beer back? And then, when I cash that sucker in, and take what's always rightfully belonged to me?! Why... we'll be rolling in loot! You'll be able to buy, like, TWO laptops! Vi: ... Axl... get out. Axl: But - Vi: GET OUT! Get out... get out... GET!!! OUT!!! NOW!!!!!!!!~!!!11 Axl: I - [Viruz grabs something from off the nightstand... and swiftly tosses it toward Axl, who wisely shuts the door before the object manages to connect with him. Instead, it connects with the door... It's a framed picture... the frame of which shatters, sending glass and cardboard across the room. Vi rushes over to the photo, as it floats gently to the floor... As it lands, Viruz picks it up, and stares at the front...] [A picture of Axl, Viruz, and their parents... with Axl resting an arm over his brother's shoulder, and the two of them lifting the "devil horns" hand gesture. Vi stares at the picture in his hands for several seconds...] [... before tearing the picture to shreds, and allowing the bits of paper to join the scattered glass and cardboard.] Vi: Maybe Pigeon was right... |cut|

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Would you…

September 10th, 2008
Comments Off on Would you…

Steve Studnuts

~~~Steve Studnuts’ reflection is imaged in a mirror. He appears to have just gotten out of the shower and is getting ready to shave. LOOK! He’s applying shaving gel! Mystery solved.

He hits “play” on a nearby CD player and “Goodbye Horses” by Q Lazzarus begins to fill the room. Click below to get the full experience. His following actions are not to say he is homosexual or a pupae transvestite. ~~~

~~~Back to Steve’s reflection, he’s now shaving and staring intently at himself~~~

Studs: Would you fuck me?

~~~He shaves his right cheek, which appears as though he just shaved his left cheek.~~~

Studs: Would you? Fuck me?

~~~He shaves his chin, which still looks like he’s shaving his chin.~~~

Studs: I’d fuck me so hard. I’d fuck me…. so hard. Heh.

~~~There’s a loud knock on the bathroom door.~~~

Studs: (startled) WHAT?

Woman’s offscreen voice: Steve? What are you doing in there?

Studs: I’m fuckin’ shavin’. Whadda ya want?

Woman’s offscreen voice: There’s a FBI agent at the front door. It’s a woman. You fucking her too?

Studs: Connie, chill out. She’s probably gettin’ a jump questionin’ me about stompin’ the shit out of The Great and Pete Trable at “Runnin’ on Empty” and killin’ them deader than fried chicken.

Woman’s offscreen voice: Oh sure! She looks like a lesbo, or at least a bi-sexual. And I know how you dig that.

Studs: (whispers to himself) I dig. Ya dig? (normal voice) Tell her I’ll call her later! I’m busy!

Woman’s offscreen voice: You tell her! Jizzabelle and I are going to Chippendale’s to see their new skinny dancer!

Studs: What the fuck? Okay, I’ll call her when I get time tonight. But before you go, could you call Trey and tell him not to take it personal when my Sun Valley Studs of the FOBL fucks up the Sin City Icons this weekend? I think he put some money into the team and is like a majority owner or somethin’.

A crushin’ defeat to the Studs could be the catalyst of a festering resentment that could lead to a main event showdown at MEGABRAWL III, especially since the Icons are favored to win. After Week 1, the Studs are ranked first and the Icons are number 2. Funny how imaginary fantasy football imitates real life fantasy wrestling. Shit, did I say that out loud? *ahem* Would you call him for me?

Woman’s offscreen voice: I’m not calling him! Every time I do he always begs for sex! It’s pathetic.

Studs: Yep, that’s my buddy Trey. Speaking of “buddies”, hey Plants, how about gettin’ your dumb ass on here and postin’ some promos so I don’t have to carry this fuckin’ tag-team all the time?

~~~He splashes on some Beast Aftershave® because it makes his smeel manely.~~~

Studs: I feel… like a jungle rat. The Great. Pete Trable. You faggots are goin’ to die. Don’t feel bad, at least for you, Great… you’ll no longer have to put up with your naggin’ bitch wife and those snotty, free-loadin’ kids. And Trable, you’ll finally be put out of your horrible white rapper gimmick misery. Just don’t come back as Zombie Pete Trable, okay?

On second thought, that’d be an improvement. So long as you didn’t rap. Especially if Axl gets ahold of your character again. Ya dig?

~~~He winks at his reflection~~~

Studs: (talking to his reflection) Let’s go pack that gear bag for Runnin’ On Empty. It’s time to bring sexy back to BOB.

~~~He turns off the bathroom light. Darkness.~~~

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More glitter

August 29th, 2008

The Great

(The Great and Pete Trable are sitting in The Great’s dinning room. They’re at the table surrounded by various trinkets to construct what looks like an elementary school project. Cardboard. Glitter. Elmer’s® glue sticks. More construction paper of different colors. Faux rubies and diamonds. And leather. )

The Great: The trick is to make Dr. Plants think he’s in a title match to WIN belts instead of lose them. Then he’ll choke. And we’ll capture the titles!

Pete: Yo, dis glue stinks. Can’t we just kick dey ass, yo?

The Great: The Great has done research. The Great knows Dr. Plants has a history of dropping the proverbial ball when titles are at stake. If you and The Great can make SMP think our titles are better and on the line—

Pete: I get you, dogg. Yo, Nick, hook a bruddah up wit some more glit.

Nick: You’re using all my glitter! MOM!

The Great: Johnny, any suggestions on how to make these championship belts more presentable? Aren’t you kindergartners doing stuff like this all the time?

Little Johnny: Please, Father. You know I’m only in kindergarten due to my age restrictions. I don’t participate in “their little projects.” I’m there because I have to be. Otherwise, you could easily bypass me to college sophomore where I could be, right now, fratting with some co-eds instead of doing this juvenile project with you Neanderthals.

The Great: That didn’t answer The Great’s question.

Little Johnny: Well then it’s simple. More glitter.

Nick: MOM!

Pete: Hey yo, ain’t we gonna get in trouble fo’ creatin’ our own titles an’ shit?

The Great: The Great doesn’t think so. This is under different circumstances. This is borne of necessity, not ego driven. Steve Studnuts will not sell our moves. Plants is the key to our success. Show him the titles, whisper to him while calling spots that they’re at stake, and watch him crumble. It’s foolproof.

Little Johnny: Simpletons. You lesser species really amuse me.

Nick: Dad? What are co-eds?

Little Johnny: What a dolt! Are you positive that he and I are from the same Breeder? I want a DNA test done.

The Great: Boys, stop that! The Great and Pete must concentrate. Formulate.

Little Johnny: Your brains, they do hibernate.

Pete: YO! I ‘bout to pop a tiny little cap in yo’ tiny little—-


Nick: MOM!


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Back in the Saddle?

August 27th, 2008

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

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

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

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

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

SMP: So, what did you think?

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

-Shorten it and make it funny.

SMP: Okay!

[12 minutes later.]

-Much better!

-I liked it!

SMP: So, did you like it?

-Yes, it was good.

SMP: Did you really like it?

-We said we liked it.

SMP: Really! You really liked it?

-Hey dude, are you related to Sally Field?

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