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Posts Tagged ‘Luke Warm’

Axl 3:16 – part two.

September 20th, 2008
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Axl

Axl: STONECUTTER!

Viruz: Oh God, not again…

[Axl boots Vi, dressed in the Luke Warm costume he was told to purchase, and then drops the rip off of a rip off with a sloppy Stonecutter. Even sloppier than the real thing.]

Viruz

[Vi flies through the air, before slamming back first in the middle of a makeshift ring in the castle’s “courtyard”. Axl begins to stomp Vi down, as his brother yelps in pain.]

Axl: Had enough?

Vi: YES! Stop it for the love ah pete!

Axl: Alright, alright.

[Axl stops, and helps Vi up. Vi holds his gut with one hand and his neck with another, as Axl pats him on the back.]

Axl: Alright, go take a rest. You deserve it. … After the ASS kicking I just handed you, bwahahahahahahahahaha!!!

Vi: …

[Viruz heads into the castle. As he does, he passes Michelle.]

Michelle: It didn’t really hurt, did it.

Vi: Nah, but ya gotta give a dog a bone every once in a while.

Michelle: Aren’t you the nice one. Ya ever think about –

[Michelle whispers into Vi’s ear, as he begins to smile.]

Vi: Heheh… mmm, ya know, you’re one tempting little dish, Michelle.

[Vi looks into Michelle’s eyes… and the two begin to lean in closer… and closer… when – ]

Axl: Hey you two, what’s crack-a-lackin’!

[Axl claps Viruz on the shoulder, and Vi and Michelle look a bit uncomfortable.]

Michelle: Heyyy… I’ll be inside, you two have fun.

Vi: But – !

*door slams*

Vi: …

Axl: So, bro. How’d you enjoy having a few mudpies stomped into ya?

Vi: It’s mud HOLES, Axl. Mud – … Forget it. Hey, why don’t you cut a promo out here, and I’ll go screw your chick.

Axl: What?!

Vi: I said I’ll go inside and cook dinner, geez, you need to get your ears checked…

Axl: Huh… Sounded like you said –

*door slams*

Axl: … Aw well. [looks into the camera] Luke! I am your father! HAHAHA! Ahh, I crack me up… But seriously.

Axl: You used to be a legend here, Luke. An icon. A… really important dude. Now? You’re NOTHIN’. Nada, zip, zilch, not a single damn thing! And what am I? The biggest fuckin’ thing this sorry excuse for a company has to offer, and yet, I’m pullin’ the curtain, opening up the card by beating the crap out of your sorry, pathetic, worthless, dried up, has been ASS. But… it’s ok. Because I know, deep down within the confines of my cold, black, eeevil heart, that I WILL, soon, be back as a main-eventer!

[Wait… you were a main eventer?]

Axl: YES! I main evented… a couple of times.

[As in two? Or less?]

Axl: ATLEAST two! But regardless of how many times I’ve main evented on tv or ppv, I am absolutely destined to become a main eventer… and the ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS!!! And I’m not going to let anyone stand in my way of accomplishing that goal, whether it be some bald-headed bumbledink HICK, such as Luke Warm, or even some euceleptis leaf munchin’ PANDA, such as American… uh… PANDA… !!!

Axl: Why?

Axl: Because I am… The Savior. I Am… The King. And I AM –

[Suddenly, the cameraman dozes off to sleep, due to intense boredom, causing the camera to crash to the ground, and go to – ]

*static*

Axl: Note to self… bribe the Great’s son Little Johnny into creating a robot camera man. I wonder if he could use any more plutonium…

|the|

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queer_eye.222

September 18th, 2008
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Viruz

[We open upon the production area of Sinister Stadium. Inside the arena, a football game is occuring between the Sinister City Scumbuckets and the Middle of Nowhere Nosepickers. But here in the production area, a figure lurks in the shadow… an eeevil figure… with a two-way headset. Yes, an eeevil, technologically minded figure, with a ravishingly handsome figure, and – ]

[Will you stop that?]

[What?]

[You know what you doing.]

[… All your base are belong to us. :p]

[That was a typo. I meant to say, you know what you’re doing… Viruz.]

[Hey, I just thought, seeing as you brought me into the narrative position at Running On Empty, that I’d give it another whirl. Aren’t I l33t?]

[Whatever the fuck THAT means… Just get back to the script! Christ, you’re almost as bad as your brother…]

[Atleast I don’t have a baby carrot dick!]

[Yup, I’m sure it’s about as big as a string bean. ;D]

[Hey! Mine looks like a baby’s arm holding an apple, FYI!]

[Would that be a baby gerbil or a baby rabbit? ;D]

[Grrr!]

[Aww, just get back to the damn production station, I can already tell this thing is gonna go over six pages…]

Viruz: Fine!

Production Crew Member: Hey, who let you in?! This area is for staff only!

Viruz: I… I am a member of the staff!

PCM: … You are?

Viruz: … Yup.

PCM: … Oh. Well, cool then. Alright guys, he’s cool.

[Suddenly, much of the machinery in the station begins to shift around, switching into craps tables, roulette wheels, stripper poles (complete with skanky looking strippers) and a complete bar. The crew members return, with alcohol, cigerettes, drugs, and plenty of snacks.]

Viruz: Wow… THIS is what a production station is like?

PCM: You’re new here, aren’t ya? Yup, this is pretty much it. Boring, ain’t it?

Viruz: … Uh…

PCM: I’d much rather be doing work, but the commotion’s so loud in here that it makes it hard to pay attention to one’s job. I mean, someone could pretty much just slip any sort of video into this video player I’m pointing at, and BINGO! , the big screen in the arena could play something like a porno, or a really crappy Pauly Shore movie, instead of the scores and advertisements it’s set up to show.

Viruz: Huh…

PCM: I mean, if I were to be distracted, and then one of my crew mates were to try and notify me, I probably couldn’t hear ’em. The loud rock music in here would be waaay too… uh… loud. And musical. Know what I mean?

Viruz: I think I follow… Hey, could you look over in that general direction for about two or three minutes, however long it takes me to pop this video in the player while you’re distracted.

PCM: Hm… you wouldn’t try to do anything fishy, would ya?

Viruz: Nahhh, of course not. Maybe.

PCM: Mmkay.

[The production crew member turns his attention to nothing in particular, while Viruz slips in a video. He then speaks into his headset.]

Viruz: Alrighty Axl, the eagle has landed.

Axl

Axl: *on the other end* … What?

Viruz: The cowboy has mosied into town!

Axl: Dammit bro, cut the double talk!

Viruz: Ugh! I put the fuckin’ tape in, capice?!

Axl: Ohhh, ok!

[While Axl and Viruz speak over the headset, the big screen in the stadium begins to cut and fill with static… the scoreboard dissapears, and the video begins to run. A field of lime green numbers and letters is seen…]

Viruz: Are you ready?

Axl: To suck it?

Viruz: … To do what you planned! Goddam, man, seriously, you need to get your eye on the ball…

Axl: Alright, alright. Put the tape in.

Viruz: … I ALREADY DID!!! Crimeny!

PCM: Hey, are you talking to someone on the headset?

Viruz: Uh… no.

PCM: Yeah you were!

Viruz: Uh… I’m ordering a pizza.

PCM: … Oh. Hey, could you order an Italian Sausage for me, I’ll give you ten bucks!

Viruz: … Sure?

PCM: Cool! Here ya go!

[The crew member hands Viruz the ten dollar bill. Vi stares at it… looks off to the side with a “how dumb can this guy be” expression, before pocketing the cash.]

Viruz: Uhm… hey, if you keep looking over there, I’ll let you give me more money.

PCM: Really?! Awesome!

[The crew member returns to staring at nothing nothing in particular.]

Viruz: …

[Back in the stadium, the fans have their attention on the screen, as do both football teams and their captains… as well as the hot dog vendors, the cotton candy vendors, the soda pop vendors… Everyone has their eyes on the screen, which is now dwindling down to but a few letters…]

Axl: Viruz! You’re going to have to press a button to get this platform to rise.

Viruz: Uh… ok. Lemme see here… maybe it’s this one.

Axl: Hey! Not that one! Water just started to pour in down here… that’s weird…

Viruz: How about this one…

Axl: DAMMIT VI! Stop kiddin’ around! Now the walls seem to be closing… that couldn’t be…

Viruz: Here it is!

[Viruz presses the button, and Axl, now surrounded by water, and close to being compacted, begins to rise up. Unfortunately, due to the closing walls, the platform’s jammed.]

Axl: The platform’s jammed!

Viruz: Yeah, I heard the narrator!

Axl: What am I supposed to do?!

Viruz: Uh… swim!

Axl: … Fuck… I don’t know how to swim!

Viruz: … Heheheh…

Axl: THAT’S NOT FUNNY!!!

Viruz: Heh… er, sorry. Ok… Uhm, don’t panic. Uh… I know! There’s this button here that reads “In case of platform area being submerged in water, with the walls closing, the platform being stuck, and you not knowing how to swim, PRESS THIS”. Should I press it?

Axl: Is that EVEN a question?! YES!!!

Viruz: Sheesh! Don’t have a cow man…

Axl: I’m about to die here! I’ll have a cow if I damn well please!

Viruz: Fine…

[Viruz presses the button… and a cow drops into the water… a cow in an inner tube. The cow drifts down the water… Axl reluctantly grabs on, and the cow floats back to the surface. Axl crawls out of the opening.]

Jay Sherman: Hold it, hold IT!

[Huh? Who the hell are you?]

Jay Sherman: I am… the CRITIC!

[… Ok?]

Jay Sherman: And I ask you, kind sir, how on EARTH can a cow float? With an inner tube?! BAH! Bah, I say! And moreso, why would a section of an arena house such a platform facility as that which the main character was standing within? With streaming water, compacting walls, AND the aforementioned floating cow?! PROPOSTEROUS! And furthermore!

[Oh, shut up!]

Jay Sherman: YOU STINK!!!

[Well, I haven’t taken a shower in a millenium, so… Anyway, Axl crawls out of the opening, looking like a drowned rat. Not exactly the grand entrance he’d planned. Nevertheless, he stands, and throws his arms in the air, as the football fans… begin to laugh. Well, he IS soaked, but it couldn’t be THAT funny…]

Sinister City Fan: There’s our mayor!

[Axl smiles smugly to himself.]

Sinister City Fan: Hey MAYOR! How’s it like tah be a QUEER!

[Axl… doesn’t smile so much.]

Middle of Nowhere Fan: Didn’t he use to live in Nowhere? Wasn’t he OUR mayor?!

Another Middle of Nowhere Fan: Yeah, but then he moved HERE! And I’m glad we got rid ah the QUEER!

Axl: … The hell?

[Axl turns around, to look up at the big screen… The lime green wall of digits have come down to ten letters, which spell out “Axl is queer”, with the mayor’s smiling face.]

Axl: FUCK!

Viruz: What is it now?

Axl: VIRUZ!!! Did I NOT tell you to have the words spell out “Axl is here”?!

Viruz: I dunno, I was too busy banging Michelle.

Axl: WHAT?!

Viruz: Er, I mean, yeah, I’m pretty sure you did… why, isn’t that what’s up there?

Axl: NO! And I’m pretty sure you know that! It says Axl is QUEER!

Viruz: BWAHAHAHA, ohhh, sweet dude!

Axl: NO! Not sweet, DEFINITELY not sweet!!! You bastard, you’re THIS close from me disowning you as a brother!

Viruz: … Really?

Axl: … This was SUPPOSED to be my way of showing the world that Luke Warm’s shitty “viral” videos were NOTHING compared to the masterpiece that I’m able to create –

Viruz: Well, actually, you had me do all the work… but whatever.

Axl: – But now?! It’s all ruined, and it’s all thanks to you! You’re making me SO ticked, Viruz!

Viruz: Sorry man, honest, I didn’t mean for that message to show up.

Sinister City Fan: Hey, everybody, let’s throw rotten vegetables at the mayor!

Axl: Ah shit…

[Axl scampers for the exit, as rotten produce begins to rain down upon him. As he runs, he shouts into the headset…]

Axl: VIRUZ! Get out of that damn production station, and head for the VW Beetle of Evil. These bastards are ruining my nice new torn up clothes! I spent good money to buy clothes this grungy! And Vi… you’re going to pay for not only a brand new set of clothes, but you’ll also pay for screwing up my video! When we get home, I’m going to practice for my match with that bald-headed assclown! When you buy my new outfit, remember to buy one of those cheap Luke Warm masks. Like this ;

Luke Warm Mask

Axl: Throw on a black vest, some jean shorts, and a knee brace, and get ready to have a few mud pies stomped into your sorry, melee mouthed, sumbitchin’ ass!

Viruz: …

Axl: … Vi?

[Sorry to burst your bubble, but your brother left for the car a long, looong time ago.]

Axl: … Dammit. Maybe I should starting cutting my speeches by… ten or twenty minutes. Aw well…

[Axl leaves the arena, hops into the car with Vi, and the two speed off into the city. Or “Kingdom”. Or whatever Axl wants to call it next…]

|the|

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The Royal Mis-Treatment.

September 16th, 2008
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Axl

[Axl is sitting in the middle of the couch, flipping through the channels of his new tv (now only a 15 incher. Michelle refused to pay a cent). Michelle walks in.]

Michelle: Axl, have you seen the card?

Axl: Yup.

Michelle: So, are you going to cut a promo regarding Luke Warm?

Michelle

Axl: Yup.

Michelle: When?

Axl: Yup.

Michelle: … You’re not even listening to me, are you.

Axl: Yup.

Michelle: Dear sweet jesus w. christ… Forget it. I hope you get your ass stonecuttered!!!

Axl: Yup.

[Michelle is about to leave in a huff, when she looks through the window and sees Pigeon walking toward the dungeon, with two hands filled with to-go bags from McGreasyton’s.]

Michelle: … Axl, why is Pigeon walking toward, the dungeon, with two hands filled with to-go bags from McGreasyton’s? You don’t suppose Viruz didn’t chain Pigeon up properly, do you?

Axl: Yup.

Michelle: FAGGOT!!!

Axl: Yup.

Michelle: !!!

[Michelle turns back to the door, and this time DOES leave in a huff, as she slams the door behind her.]

Axl: YES! There we go, finally found something good. 24 hour Xena Warrior Princess marathon, here I come!

> > > meanwhile < < < Pigeon

[Pigeon walks into the dungeaon, arms carrying five or six paper bags of fast food.]

Pigeon: Alright, Mario, Tony, I’ve got the McSpaghetti and McRigatoni you fellas asked for… Rebecca, for you I’ve got the McSardinesAndSpinachBurger

Rebecca: EWWW! Ickie! I don’t want THAT!

Pigeon: Well, you didn’t specify what you wanted, so I just figured, what the hell.

Rebecca: I want something else!!! And NOW!!!

Pigeon: Well, let me put these bags down.

[Pigeon does so, before picking his nose for a good minute, and then lifting a golden nugget to Rebecca’s lips.]

Pigeon: There ya go, fresh from the bakery.

Rebecca: OH-MY-GOD! SICK! Get that away from me you sick freak!

Pigeon: As you wish.

[Pigeon devours the yellow morsel. He then picks up one bag, and pulls out a cherry pie.]

Pigeon: And snOw, I know how much you love pie, so, I got this for you.

snOw: Aww. Man, I’ve always been a poon-tang gal myself, but I guess cherry will have to do. Unless you’re willin’ to offer somethin’ up, Becky?!

Rebecca: I’M SURROUNDED BY FREAKS!!!

Pigeon: Well, we better hurry up and scarf this shit. Axl might be down here soon, and although I’m not afraid… you guys are pretty much secod-rate sub-characters used soley for the purpose of interaction. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took off all four of your heads, just because he stubbed his toe or somethin’. You guys are pretty much Star Trek crew members in red shirts. Disposable like soiled diapers, ya know?

All Four: …

Pigeon: But hey, look at the bright side. You get to spend the last of your days in a filthy, dirty, disgusting dungeon surrounded by rats and roaches, until Axl has enough of you clowns and decides to slice your heads off for the hell of it.

All Four: …

Pigeon: So… dig in!

Mario Spaghetti: It’s-ah me! Ah Mari-

Tony Spaghetti: Dammit, I hope Axl whacks you first, so’s I can have atleast ten seconds of my life without hearin’ that fuckin’ line!

snOw: Becky, before we go, how’s about we bang the hell out of eachother? There’s no better way to go out than by tastin’ the sweet, sweet juices of Lady Pussy!

Rebecca: NEVER!!! … Unless you get me really, REALLY drunk first. Or stoned.

Pigeon: Quoth the Pigeon… Bi-chicks rule.

Rebecca: I am NOT bi!

snOw: Yeah. That’s what they ALL say. :p

Rebecca: AGGHHH!!!

> > > meanwhile < < < [Axl is still sitting in the middle of the couch, eyes on the tv. He has viewed the BoB news brief, stating the card, and his match with Luke Warm.] Axl: Son of a BITCH! Why I am a stuck with such a... such a... HACK?! This guy hasn't shown up on the rant zone in ages, ever since he ran those cheap "viral" videos, and now I'm stuck facing him in the curtain jerker! This is ludicrous! This is proposterous! This is an outrage! This... This is - Michelle: This is your brain. [Michelle shows a photo of a woman.] Michelle: This is your brain after watching an Axl promo. [Michelle shows a photo of the very same woman, appearing with her face drastically contorted, ala the people who watched the video in "The Ring".] Michelle: Any questions? [Axl turns to Michelle. Who is sitting next to him on the couch. ... Yup.] Axl: Michelle! You're the HEAD BOOKER! Why am I not in the main event?! Why am I atleast not in the middle card?! I'm not a jobber, dammit! Michelle: Are you a nugget? Axl: What? Michelle: Nevermind. The thing is, baby, you just don't... well, see, the people don't... Axl: ... Michelle: You don't draw money for BoB. Axl: But none of the guys on the roster draw money for BoB! Michelle: Yeah, but you're the only guy on the roster that actually makes BoB LOSE money! Besides XXXTreme Machine, anyway, but atleast he's willing to be torn apart, shredded, and jobbed to hell and back. You on the other hand? You call in sick to work if you get a BUMP on your toungue! And now you're complaining about being in the opening match! Axl, I hate to say it, but for fuck's sake, even I feel like firing you sometimes! Axl: ... But honey... Michelle: Seriously, Axl. You're like a male diva or something. In more ways than one... Axl: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!!! Michelle: Nah, you can keep it. Axl: Ugh... Michelle, I deserve better treatment than this! I'm a super-duper mega star! I'm a KING! I'm BoB's only Savior! Michelle: Then why don't you start acting like it, and stop bitching, moaning, whining, complaining, getting pissed off at the slightest little thing, and being a paranoid, schizophrenic, delusional, spoiled rotten BRAT?! Axl: ... Because... Cuz I don't wanna. Michelle: Oh brother... Axl: Hey! That just gave me a great idea! Hmm... they want to put me in a match against Luke Warm? Well then, I say fine! I'll just fight fire with fire! Michelle: What do you mean? ... Actually, why am I asking, I'm sure you'll explain to me for the next thirty or forty minutes... Axl: You're wrong for once, Michelle! I'm keeping my lips sealed! Michelle: Thank god for that... Axl: I've got to get in touch with my brother... there's some work to be done... [Axl lifts himself up off the couch and heads out through the door... leaving Michelle to the tv.] Michelle: Xena Warrior Princess? 24 hour MARATHON?! Goddamn, Axl's more of a chick than I am... Michelle: I wonder if there's any titty flicks on... |the|

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Luke Out Below

August 26th, 2008
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Kurt Angel

[Nighttime. A smoke-filled room. Kurt Angel was watching “Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle” when all of a sudden the lights went out.]

KA: Did I just go blind? Oh wait, no, I can still see the movie.

[Kurt grabs his phone and dials a number.]

KA: Hello, phone company? I’d like to report a power outage. My lights just shut off by themselves. Well, duh, if I knew their phone number, I’d call them. Hello? Hello?

[Kurt dials some other numbers.]

KA: Hello, Pizza Hut? I’d like to report a power outage. No, this isn’t a prank call. No, my name isn’t Dave. It’s Kurt. Kurt Angel. What do you mean now you know it’s a joke? It’s not a joke, it’s so not a joke. Hello? Darnitall!

[Kurt grabs the phone’s antenna and, well…locks on a modified Angel Lock.]

KA: I’ll make you tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!

Phone: *Bleep*

[Kurt interprets the “low battery” warning as a submission and drops the move.]

KA: Whoooo!

[Kurt prances around in celebration.]

KA: Who da evil? I’m da evil! The man who pinned Steve Studnuts at Power is Stolen. Not false, not false. If not for the most corrupt Generic Referee on the planet, you would be looking at the number one contender for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. Studnuts. Vincent. Harker. The iAd will go down someday. And when you do, you’ll be the ones on your knees before Axl! And not in a gay way, either, busters!

KA: Instead, I’ve got to face Luke. Luke who? Mr. Luke-Hoo himself. Luke Warm. And mister, that plate glass window is gonna feel like the best day of you’re life after I get through with you at…Neil Patrick Harris is the man! Hey, the light went out? Where’s the phone?

Phone: *Bleep*

KA: I better get a ladder and replace that light bulb.

[Kurt gets a ladder and climbs up.]

KA: Come on, bucko!

[Kurt falls off the ladder.]

KA: Ow.

[After a few seconds of “selling the bump,” Kurt’s back up quickly. He unscrews the bulb and belly-to-light bulb suplexes it?]

*SMASH*

KA: Ow!

[Need a light bulb?]

KA: Whoa. The walls are talking to me again!

[Yes, yes. Check the table there for a new light bulb. And here goes Kurt up the ladder again. Amazingly, he gets it in. Then, the light goes out.]

KA: The hell?

*SMASH*

*THUD*

*Footsteps*

*Creak*

*SLAM*

*Creak*

*Flick*

[Lights on.]

*SLAM*

[Kurt is laying at the bottom of the ladder, surrounded by bits of a broken Cheap-Ass™ Guitar. Who attacked Kurt? Who who? Who who? Who attacked Kurt. Who who, who who. I really wanna know…]

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Garbage ‘n’ Weapons

May 22nd, 2008

Trey Vincent

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

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

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

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

[Trey takes off the Vader mask.]

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

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

[Trey looks around.]

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

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

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

[Trey turns around and checks his email.]

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

[Trey turns around.]

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

TV: Until we meet agayne…

[Cut.]

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SMP, NH, SS, and a RBNS

March 4th, 2008
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Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is once again, back in his office. He pushes away from his desk, revealing a comedy ice bag situated over his groin area. He hits his overhead page button:]

SMP: Nurse Heidi, please report to the office.

[Moments later, Nurse Heidi is with the Doc in the office.]

Nurse Heidi

NH: What’s up? I know it’s not your penis, with that swelling and all, I bet it looks like an acorn nested in a Pilates exercise ball.

SMP: Yeah, that’s so funny. I think I’m having a genuine Tommy Dreamer going on here. I need some fluid drained or something, I’m going to have to cancel my appointments for the rest of the day.

NH: Are you sure? You only have one more.

SMP: Make it quick. I’m dying here. Who the hell is Kid Pirate anyway? And can’t a guy make a name for himself without kicking everybody in the nuts with a peg leg?

NH: I guess not. I’m going to lunch. Your next patient is coming in soon. I have to go.

SMP: Damn that Kid Pirate and his Bruce Pearl!

NH: Huh?

SMP: Bruce Pearl! The kick in the balls! I’m going to kill that guy.

NH: Umm, I believe it was the Black Pearl. Bruce Pearl is the Tennessee men’s basketball coach.

SMP: I thought that was Pat Summit.

NH: Eh? No, she coaches the women’s team… she just LOOKS like a man.

SMP: Oh.

NH: Gotta run!

Steve Studnuts

[Several minutes pass after Nurse Heidi leaves. Then, Steve Studnuts walks in and places the Swiss Army Belt Title on Plants’ desk.]

Studs: How’s it hangin’, jerkweed? Heh. It’s not hangin’ is it? Your shit is all fucked up.

SMP: I don’t’ understand. How do you win a belt and I get kicked in the nads? You hardly do anything different when you do promo… and the peanut butter jelly time was MY idea!

Studs: So? You had that stupid one. I had a motherfucker that rocked. And I’m in the iAd, so we win shit and you get stuck in dumb tag-team feuds with Kevin and your partner that never does shit on the board.

SMP: Oh, he’s shit on the board, alright.

Studs: Yep, I guess he has.

SMP: And Trey’s in the iAd, he’s caught in the same dumb tag-team feud as I am.

Studs: Yeah, but he’s caught on the side that keeps the fuckin’ titles.

ANY-way, Connie mentioned somethin’ about gettin’ bigger titties some time back, and you’re the cheapest fucker I could find. What can you do for me?

SMP: I thought she said she wouldn’t let me do it, because I suck at it?

Studs: You suck at a lot of things, Plants… but it’s MY gatdamn money. Can you make the bitch’s titties bigger or what? You know, without fuckin’ them up and havin’ them look like Dolph Lundgren’s haircut in Rocky IV and shit.

SMP: I don’t know. I have a lot on my mind lately. I’m not sure I can concentrate on doing a good job on somebody I know.

Studs: Well fuck! I guess I’m just gonna have to shell out some serious dough and have the shit done right. If you fucked up my bitch’s fun bags, there’d be some weirdness between us. Ya dig?

Hey, are you fuckin’ Heidi yet?

SMP: Umm, I don’t see how that matters with what we’re discussing.

Studs: How can you work with her all day and not be hittin’ that in the fuckin’ staff lounge or somethin’?

SMP: Our relationship is strictly professional. Besides, haven’t you ever heard of “You don’t dip your pen in company ink?”

Studs: Yeah, but the motherfucker that came up with that probably had ass ugly, stank, crack smokin’ bitches in his office. Or some fat, fuckin’ cow looking broads that you wouldn’t want to fuck even with somebody else’s pen. You have a certified, card carrying fuckin’ hottie that loves the dick. At least, that’s what I heard… um, not like I’d know or anything.

SMP: Heidi is my friend. Sex ruins friendships.

Studs: So, I take that as a “no”. You ain’t hittin’ it.

SMP: Can we change the subject?

Studs: Sure. He we go…
When are you and Heidi gonna fuck?

SMP: That wasn’t a change of subject.

Studs: How about this? How many titles have you won in BOB?

SMP: Next subject?

Studs: Remember that time when Lance Mayhem and I kicked your fuckin’ ass in that cage match with Luke Warm at Sunday, Bloody Sunday?

SMP: Was that the one where my mother juiced you with a hard-way shot with a rolling pin?

Studs: Whaaaaaa? I don’t remember that shit. I do remember that Bobo came down after the match and killed you deader than fuckin’ fried chicken, though.

SMP: Yeah, that pretty much sucked.

Studs: You’re alright, Plants, despite being a fuckin’ loser. I think I’m going to call up Molly Ringwald and see if she’ll date you. Of course, I’ll have to ask if she’d date a guy like you, with your giant nut sack and all. I mean, if you had a nice personality, was a good dancer, would she consider it? But once again, she’d have to ride in the backseat because your balls would ride shotgun.

SMP: Oh great, the John Bender act again.

Studs: How would she suppose you’d ride a bike?

SMP: You’re a riot, Steve.

Studs: SHUDDAP, BITCH! Go fix me a turkey pot pie!
Heh, you’re aces, kid. Go drain your sack.

SMP: Thanks for your concern….

Studs: Don’t mention it. Let me know about that titty thing, Connie’s gonna get it done somewhere, and I don’t wanna spend a lot on her tits. You know, when I could be spendin’ it on some other chick’s tits. Ya dig?

SMP: Whatever. We’ll see you around.

Studs: Not if I see your first, jerkweed. I’m out. Later, faggot.

SMP: Yeah, see ya.

[Studnuts leaves the office.]

SMP: Asshole….

[fade.]

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Cruel Intentions

February 22nd, 2008

Trey Vincent

[A bar. Pretty empty. “Chinese Burn” by Curve is blaring over the sound system. Only one girl is sitting at the bar. Trey Vincent approaches.]

TV: Kyra? What a coincidence.

Kyra: Have we fucked?

TV: Yeah.

Kyra: I knew your face looked familiar. What’s up?

TV: Nothing. Just getting some beers.

Kyra: Drinking makes me so horny…what was your name again?

TV: Trey.

Kyra: Right. The wrestler.

TV: Sports entertainer. And blinking makes me horny.

Kyra: Really?

[She jams her hand in between his legs.]

Kyra: Liar.

[Pause.]

TV: Hold on.

Kyra: Waiting…oh, hello?

TV: Right.

Kyra: You really shouldn’t have done so many steroids.

TV: Fuck you, bitch.

Kyra: Is that a clit or are you just half-Chinese?

TV: You kiss your mother with that mouth?

Kyra: No. I suck cocks with it.

TV: I can’t believe you…

Kyra: Yeah, well, get used to it. If you’re gonna keep going to all my favorite dive bars and sitting next to me and, fuck, filming me? And by the way, next time, his camera stays, but he has to leave.

Cameraman: Awww!

TV: Damn, my promos are so vulgar. My last one was sponsored by the Filipina Gallery. Mail order brides from the Philippines.

Kyra: Oh yeah? You gonna order one? Could be fun for us.

TV: Us? Seriously?

Kyra: Sure. You know what would be hot? I could send for her, then we could go to Massachusetts, get married, and then you could commit adultery with both of us. You’re going to hell anyway, right? Might as well enjoy the ride.

[She downs a shot of something.]

Kyra: Man, it feels good to have fun. Let’s go fuck in the bathroom.

TV: Right.

[Jump cut. Trey’s suddenly at the men’s room door.]

TV: What are you waiting for?

[Kyra’s still at the bar.]

Kyra: (Doing a double take) How the fuck did you move that fast? Wait, wait. Before, you have to impress me. You’ve got a match with Luke Warm and SMP.

[Trey returns to his stool at the bar sighing.]

Kyra: Bartender. Can I get…hmm…six amaretto sours?

Bartender: Are you driving?

Kyra: Oh, they’re not for me. They’re all for him.

Bartender: Are you driving?

TV: Nah. I learned my lesson. This one time, I was speeding down the highway and lost control of my car, went through a guardrail, rolled down a cliff, bounced off a tree, landed upside down and finally stopped. The car was smoking and steaming. Some guy came down to check on me. He’s like, “Dude, are you drunk?” And I yelled at him, “Of course I’m drunk! What the hell do you think I am, a stunt driver or something?”

Bartender: Right, so you got your license suspended.

TV: Well, actually, no. Luckily, it was a stolen car.

Bartender: What?

TV: So, they couldn’t trace it to me, you see. But, no, I’m not driving. My apartment is right down the road. I can’t afford to drive around my Jeep too much. Especially since BigBOSS hid all my employees Social Security numbers.

Bartender: Fine. But if you die, I swear I’ll come to your wake and piss on you.

TV: Lovely. Sounds fine to me.

Kyra: Yeah, Trey loves it when guys piss on him.

TV: Hey!

Kyra: Right. So here’s the deal. You need to drink these drinks. And then you have to totally out rant SMP.

TV: Why? He’s not focused on me. Sadly, when he’s drunk, he’s focusing on Axl and Pete Trable. Why isn’t he focused on Nurse Heidi like he should be? I’d focus all over her face and those bodacious tatas.

Kyra: So, you’d say you’re easily going to beat Luke Warm and Dr. Silaconne M. Plants.

TV: Hell, Trey Vincent doesn’t have to. I just need to get disqualified so I don’t lose the titles. And Plants, remember this. Nobody knows more ways to get himself disqualified than Trey Vincent.

Kyra: Why are you talking in third person?

TV: Heh, I just channeled The Great for some reason. But I did it before The Great did it. But it was just too big of a pain in the ass, so I stopped because Trey Vincent kept going in and out of third person and first person. Like I am right now.

Kyra: Yeah, and The Rock did it before you.

TV: That guy who’s running for president?

Kyra: Barack Obama?

TV: Yeah. Wasn’t he the one who did that whole “people’s champion” bullshit. You know…”Barack says, Barack says, Barack says know your damn role?”

Kyra: No, no, different person.

[The drinks arrive.]

TV: FINALLY!

Kyra: Drink up, Trey. And show SMP how a real man drinks amarettos.

[Trey stares at the drinks.]

TV: Do real men drink amaretto?

Kyra: No. It’s kind of a faggy drink.

TV: No wonder SMP’s watching Axl and Pete Trable promos. If we had seen him from the waist down, he probably would’ve been naked and messy. Plants. You sissy. Go watch your Axl promos, go get drunk, and don’t worry about me or anything. You only have a guy who hasn’t ranted as your partner. Me? I’ve got a little psychotic flammable leprechaun as a partner. You’re in deep trouble. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go do some more important things.

[Trey stares at the drinks.]

TV: Ahh. I know what I can use those for. If you thought the Shock and Awe was something, just wait until you get Donkey Punched.

Kyra: You talk big. Bring it, bitch.

[Cut.]

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One Of Those Girls

February 15th, 2008
Comments Off on One Of Those Girls

Trey Vincent

[Inside a strip club somewhere in Sin City, Trey Vincent was staring at a bottle of beer on the bar in front of him. This, of course, was only because there wasn’t a stripper currently stripping on stage in front of him.]

Female Voice: So, this is how you train for your big match?

[Puzzled, Trey Vincent turned around to find some chick who looked like an Avril Lavigne punk grrl wannabe.]

TV: Nice belt buckle. Wanna?

[She’s wearing a “FUCK” belt buckle. A fuckle, if you will.]

Punk Girl: You don’t even know me, Trey.

TV: I’m famous. I’m on TV. Want a beer, whatever your name is? Or should I just call you Punk Girl?

PG: No, you shouldn’t call me that. Because I’m definitely not rated PG. More in the R/NC-17 area.

TV: You want to get with me, you better have the initials XXX, honey. Should I call you Xandra Xena Xaviera, or what?

PG: Kyra.

TV: So noted.

Kyra: So what brings you here tonight. It’s Valentine’s, man. Shouldn’t you be with some chick?

TV: Well, I was…

Caption: Two Hours Ago.

[The scene: Trey’s apartment.]

Misty Waters

Misty Waters: Trey, can we talk for a minute.

TV: Gotta go.

[Back to the present at the strip club.]

TV: Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with some…other chick playing scissors?

Kyra: You assume I’m a lesbian because I’m in a strip club?

TV: Well, yeah.

Kyra: I’m down with whoever’s the hottest person I can find at the time. Two beers please, honey?

Waitress: Sure thing.

TV: Thanks.

Kyra: For what? They’re both for me. Did you want one?

TV: You are so hot.

Kyra: Yeah I am. Man, when’s the next chick coming out?

TV: I suddenly don’t give a crap.

Kyra: What’s with the camera?

TV: I’m like Michael Moore. I just have cameras following me around because I’m important and every minute of my life has to be documented. Eventually, I’ll probably turn this into a promo if anything interesting happens where I can talk shit about Dr. Silaconne M. Plants and Luke Warm. And possibly Kevin the Pyromaniac just for shits.

[The beers arrive. She pays the waitress the cash in $1 bills.]

TV: You watch BOB?

Kyra: Hell yeah. Kay Fabe is hot as hell. Misty’s pretty hot, too. Think I could meet her?

TV: Do you like talking?

Kyra: Not so much. Oh, right. The flashback. You like to talk, Trey.

TV: Only if it’s about me or fucking.

[Kyra guzzles beer number one in a matter of seconds. She burps and slams the bottle down on the bar. Beer number two is then gone in a few more seconds. She again burps and wipes off her mouth with her fingers.]

Kyra: Mmm. Good stuff. Wanna? (She points at her belt buckle.) I’ll give you some great training for Plants and Warm. Best workout of your life.

[Trey smiles.]

Kyra: Is Kevin around?

TV: Uh, no. Why?

Kyra: Just making sure you won’t be tagging out to him at any point.

TV: I don’t need a tag partner to fuck you. Hell, I don’t even need a tag partner to beat Luke Warm and Plants at Totally Dead. You’ll both have to take my word on it for now. Kyra, I’m gonna prove it to you right now. Plants, Warm, whatever. I’ve gotta go. More important things. Hey, Kyra, would you mind trying to hit a Nipple Cutter on me, or maybe a STONECUTTER?

Kyra: I can’t wait to see your counter move.

TV: I call it the Shock And Awe.

[Cut.]

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Another day, another….dollar?

February 8th, 2008
Comments Off on Another day, another….dollar?

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is back in his office at “Titties R Us”, trying to make ends meet. Nurse Heidi walks in, also trying to make ends meet. She dumps a huge pile of files on his desk.]

NH: Dr. Plants, you have a reduction, an augmentation, and fifteen do-overs scheduled today.

Nurse Heidi

SMP: Do-overs? I can’t get paid for do-overs! I really need some money. Any word back from “The Moment of Truth”? What about “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader”?

NH: Well, they’re a little skeptical to have you on since that “Jeopardy!” incident. And I honestly don’t think you’ll win any money on “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader”.

SMP: Nonsense! I’m a Doctor! I’m a smart guy, don’t you think?

NH: ….

SMP: Then try “Moment of Truth” again, I’m pretty sure I can beat a lie detector test.

NH: Yeah, probably so. You are the Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer in Wrestling today after all. I don’t know if that translates into being a good liar, though.

SMP: Certainly it does! Try me…

NH: Okay. Have you ever touched a patient while doing a breast augmentation in an inappropriate way?

SMP: Ummm, somebody just hit that “Do not answer that question button.” Skip to the next one.

NH: Have you ever charged a patient for an augmentation surgery that was substandard?

SMP: Wow, this is really tough. Don’t you have any questions about wrestling?

NH: Sure. Have you ever used politics to change the outcome of a wrestling match?

SMP: Cripes! Ask me something about 5th Grade geology. Or Science! How about Science? I know all nine planets in order!

NH: Okay, how about this? How many planets in our solarsystem have rings?

SMP: That’s easy! One. It’s Saturn! Call “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader” and book me!

NH: I better not, you’re wrong.

SMP: Huh?

NH: There are four planets that have rings, but only Saturn’s are visible. They are all outer planets, meaning planets beyond the asteroid belt. Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune, and Uranus have rings.

SMP: Uranus does not have rings!

NH: Mine doesn’t, but Uranus does. I’m confident Uranus has brown rings. Hee!

SMP: Yeah, you’re real funny. For that, you get to clean up my office, specifically the closet. I need room in there for a large, cardboard cutout of Luke Warm until Totally Dead, where I’ll prop it up in the corner and use for a tag-team partner.

NH: What about the real Luke Warm?

SMP: The cutout will be just as effective.

NH: Okay, you’re the boss.

[She begins cleaning out the closet, several items begin flying out.]

NH: Good grief! What do you want me to do with all this stuff?

SMP: What’s that you’re throwing out?

NH: A Tom Brady Fathead figure, a Junior Seau Topps card, a New England throwback helmet with Mike Vrable’s autograph on it, a jar containing a bone chip from one of Teddy Bruschi’s elbow surgeries, and Adam Vinaterri’s kicking tee from Super Bowl XXXVIII.

SMP: Oh yeah, those. Send them to Steve, he asked me to hold that stuff for him until he finished his “Patriots Shrine” in his basement.

NH: Snail mail or FedEx?

SMP: Oh golly! Snail mail! I ain’t paying for overnight!

[Heidi gathers the items and places them in a box formerly used to ship “nipple collagen” according to the label.]

NH: Okay, all packaged up. Hey, what about these video tapes that have “Other Teams’ Secretly Recorded Plays” on them?

SMP: Oh no, keep those! I might get some money from Goodell for that!

NH: Gotcha! That’ll be a decent payday!

SMP: I know, right!

[They high five.]

SMP: Well, the closet looks good. Plenty of room for my Luke Warm cutout, which reminds me… Trey Vincent and Kevin the Pyromaniac, Trey… I don’t know who has a more useless partner in this NGETFA tag-team championship match. Mine is so missing that milk cartons can’t even find him to do a “Have You Seen Me?” and yours looks to be on the verge of being clinically insane.

I’ll give you the edge because at least yours will be there and he’s dangerous. But I’ve overcome obstacles before. I can do it again, as long as I don’t have to lie or be smarter than a fifth grader. GET IT? GOT IT? GOOD!

Send in my first patient, Heidi.

NH: Sure thing… it’s a re-do, though.

SMP: Of course!

[Nurse Heidi leaves and returns minutes later with a lady that walks in wearing a hospital gown, which she immediately drops to reveal her breasts. One of the pair looks like a mangled pineapple and the other slightly resembles a Japanese pool boy.]

SMP: Ewwww. This is going to take awhile…. cancel all my other appointments.

NH: Consider it done!

[Fade out.]

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Still on strike?

January 15th, 2008

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants and Nurse Heidi are trying to do a promo…]

SMP: I hate the Screen Actor Guild!

NH: But you had to join to get paid for your GEICO caveman spots.

SMP: That’s true. But with the writer’s strike I haven’t been able to cut a promo in weeks.

Nurse Heidi

NH: Some might say years!

SMP: I know, right!

[They high five…and miss!]

SMP: Man, we’re really rusty.

NH: This promo is starting to suck…

SMP: Damn right. Any word from those people I ask you contact?

NH: Well…. The Great’s writer said he didn’t feel comfortable doing your promos.

SMP: It’s probably better he didn’t anyway. What it’d be?
I’ll hit you harder…. than Dixie Carter…
booger and Kevin, we’ll beat you eas-i-LEE.
Luke and S…M……P!
Champs, soon to be.
1-2—-THREE. Blah.

NH: He’s a little better than that.

SMP: Sure. What about those Kent State guys?

NH: Nope. Nobody has died recently, so they don’t really have any new material.

SMP: Their last one was pretty good. Nobody died for that one.

NH: I guess?

SMP: What about CircularAnswer? I heard he’s back.

NH: Nah. I didn’t bother with him. Want me to try?

SMP: No, he’ll probably cut my wiener off again. HEY! How about the indy writer guys?

NH: I heard Don Imus’ ex-writer is free.

SMP: Ew. No thanks…. I don’t think calling those guys nappy headed hos is going to be helpful. Maybe if Luke and I were wrestling douja and his nephew, what was his name?

NH: Who cares?

SMP: Point taken. What about Leary?

NH: He’s too busy writing the card! In fact, he’s taking help from the staff to finish. Axl is even writing some matches.

SMP: HELL NO! He’s not writing MY match is he?

NH: How would I know?

SMP: I don’t know! I’m desperate for stuff, I’m lost without my writer! Luke Warm, I HATE YOU!

NH: He’s your partner….

SMP: SO WHAT? He does all these stupid image thingees and then doesn’t post a damn thing since he “came back”. I hate him. It was his idea to reform The Mamaz Boyz, which probably cost me the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS to get locked in a tag-team with that moron….then he doesn’t even show up and rant.

NH: Maybe his writer is on strike, too?

SMP: For about the last six years! Luke Warm, say something you goofy bastard! We can’t lose to Kevin and booger. No offense, but those guys suck! Come on, man!

NH: They don’t suck. They DID win the tag-team titles….

SMP: That does not matter anymore. Hell, The friggin’ Miz has a WWE tag strap, what does THAT tell you?

NH: Hmmmm, good point.

SMP: That’s enough good points, we’re outta here.

NH: Sounds good to me. Quit while we’re ahead, because this stinks!

SMP: Fade this thing, dude! Wish I could help, Leary… but I’m of no help, brother!

[fade out]

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