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Posts Tagged ‘Massive Man Rendition First’

Fuck a gatdamn subject

February 2nd, 2008

Steve Studnuts

~~~Phoenix, Az. Steve Studnuts is wearing a Patriots jersey, number 69 with the letters Duyuwanna on the back in place of a Player’s name, and walking down Camelback Avenue just to stir up shit. He’s in and out of a couple bars, kinda milling around downtown. He’s spotted at the Arizona Center. He’s seen at Golf ‘N Stuff or whatever the hell they call it now and Arrowhead Towne Center. He’s briefly located on the links doing some putting over at Phantom Horse Golf Club. He finally gets into his canary yellow Ferrari and speeds off into the distance, blowing trash and a tumbleweed as he fish-tails down the road. He’s then seen outside of the University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, Az, flexing his muscles and shit like that.~~~

Studs: Hey… little fucker I’m wrestlin’ at whatever the fuck they’re callin’ the next show. Do you see this?

~~~Steve motions towards the stadium~~~

Studs: They’re havin’ the fuckin’ Super Bowl in there. Ya know why, jerkweed? It’s because Phoenix is BIG-TIME now. Once we got that gatdamn MLK Day passed in like ’94 or ’95 or whenever it was, it’s been like “Fuckin’ A” Christmas around here. The Coyotes still suck, but how ‘bout them fuckin’ D’Backs in ‘01? The Suns will get their shit soon and even the fuckin’ Cards are startin’ to get their shit straight. It’s all comin’ together. We host National Championship games, fuckin’ Super Bowls are comin’ to town… the Final Four will probably be in this mother fucker in a couple. Ya know? Do you know why, you scroungy little fucker?

~~~He takes off the jersey and reveals a pre-oiled, tanned sculpture of flesh and muscle.~~~

Studs: The why IS… everybody wants to come to Stevie fuckin’ ville. That’s why. Ya see, Steve Studnuts runs this mother fucker. Steve Studnuts is Phoenix Arizona’s number one mother fucker. Sister fucker. Girlfriend fucker. Your girlfriend’s fucker. Other dude’s wife’s fucker. I fuck ‘em all.

I’m in the iAd and you have a title, shitball willy…. do the fuckin’ math.

~~~He begins to stroll around the stadium.~~~

Studs: Not that I’m a big fan of titles or anythin’ like that, but the fact that your fuckin’ ass has one makes me wanna take it. I want it just so you don’t fuckin’ have it, ya dig? At first, I thought you were Brandon Bitch Smacker or Totally Fudge Packed Jim or whatever the fuck his name is until Connie told me, “No, it’s the other fag.”

So now I got Massive Man, huh? What the fuck? Massive Man? Are you still wearing that toe guard, jerky? You know the one I’m talkin’ about, the one you put on there when you’re toe-fuckin’ Jimmy’s prostate so that you don’t get shit under your nail? Yeah, THAT one. What…. the….. fuck?

~~~Some kids approach.~~~

Studs: No, I don’t play for the Patriots or the Giants, get the fuck outta here.

~~~They do.~~~

Studs: The Swiss Army Belt on the line? Massive Man vs. Massive Gland. The Former Kent Stater vs. The Perennial Pussy Craver. Should be a fuckin’ hoot.

I’ll give ya a brief synopsis of our match. Feel free to copy and paste, writer guy.

First, I’m gonna kick your ass like you owe me some fuckin’ money or tried to cock block me. Not that you could, but you know what I mean.

I might sell a little bit seein’ as you’re the fuckin’ champ and all. Very little, I should say. Then I’ll hoist your dumb ass up, deliver the Death Valley (of the Sun) Driver, stand over your carcass, wiggle my hand in front of my face and say, “YOU CAN’T BE ME…BUT I KNOW, YOU WISH….YOU COULD BE!”

Bounce off the fuckin’ saggy ass ropes, stop right over your noggin’, simulate jerkin’ off, and give you the FUCK KNUCKLE SHUFFLE. Right between the fuckin’ eyes. Ring the gatdamn bell, and I’ll leave you layin’ there like a sack of fuckin’ shit. Ya dig?

~~~Steve’s attention is diverted as his Snatch Radar® perks up.~~~

Studs: Pardon me, the Patriots’ Cheerleaders just showed up. I hate to cut this mother fucker short, but it’s ‘bout time to knock off a piece. Or three. I’ll see you and your puny little fuckin’ body at Totally Dead, then I’ll break you in half. I eat shit like you for breakfast.

~~~This is overhead by one of the cheerleaders.~~~

Cheerleader: EWWW! You eat shit for breakfast?

Studs: Heh. That was a figure of speech, honey. This is a literal interpretation of another phrase I like to use… I eat pussy anytime of day.

Cheerleader: You don’t say…

Studs: I do say. And I like the fuckin’ buffet. Oh wait… I’m rhyming like that fuckin’ new guy. Scratch that.

ANY-way, grab a couple of your friends, I know you cheerleadin’ chicks are all up in each other’s gash anyway… let’s make it dinner for four, I have a reserved seat for you gals. On my face. Ya dig?

Cheerleader: You’ve got to be the most obnoxious, crude, vile, and egotistical human being I’ve ever met. But you’re hot. Hold on, I’ll go get them!

Studs: Obnoxious and vile? I guess she’s never met YOU, Trey! Ha! It’s all gravy, though…a quick fuck here and there, lappin’ up some hair pie nectar. Yummy! I’ll get to stabbin’ some trim here soon enough. And then I’ll get you, MM. I’ll try not to tire myself out too much here, sport. I’ll save a little bit of energy from fuckin’ pussy to killin’ a pussy. It really fuckin’ sucks to be you.

~~~Steve jumps in his Ferrari, speeds around to the gaggle of cheerleaders and media that has accumulated around one of the stadium’s entrances, opens the passenger door, and let’s three cheerleaders in. He then pulls out, which is something he won’t do later.~~~

~~~Static~~~

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Much mo’ Great

January 11th, 2008

The Great

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

Nick: Dad, whatcha doing?

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

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

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

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

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

Nick: Huh?

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

Nick: What?

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

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

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

Nick: Whatever, you want to play Halo 3?

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

(The Great presses an exact combination of buttons)

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

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

(The Great presses more buttons)

Nick: A shoulder claw?

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

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

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

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

“The Great”: What did you say?

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

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

Nick: Why you say that?

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

Nick: One letter?

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

Nick: I don’t understand.

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

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

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

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

(Nick runs off)

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

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

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

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

The Great will grace you soon.

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

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

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If I Gave It All Away For One Thing

November 27th, 2007

Kay Fabe

[“One Thing” by Finger Eleven begins playing. We see a shot of Kay Fabe hanging from a tree in a skimpy swimsuit. Then a picture of Kay Fabe’s fourth grade Cloudydale class picture, with her circled. Aw, how cute she was back then. Then we see her in her awkward, nerdy high school pic (Cloudydale, Class of 1996!). Then a shot of her bent over a chair? Yowza. Then a picture of her lifting bananas, as if they were weights. Then Kay dressed up as Mistress of Pain in some sort of love dungeon. Cut to a shot of Kay Fabe straddling the top turnbuckle and, uh, rather enjoying herself. Cut to a shot of Kay sitting in an empty BOB ballroom.]

“Restless tonight”

[A close up of Kay staring at the camera all serious and sexy.]

“Cause I wasted the light”

[A close up of Kay’s hands flexing as if they’re about to grab boobs.]

“Between both these times”

[A shot of Kay in an empty ring.]

“I drew a really thin line”

[A shot of Kay looking up at the ceiling and then, not, as Kamikazie Ken falls down from the rafters.]

“If I traded it all”

[Shot of a nerdy, younger Kay in an Ani DiFranco T-shirt.]

“If I gave it all away for one thing”

[A shot of Kay not wearing a shirt…sadly, from behind. Then a clip of Kay jumping rope. Then a shot of her hitting the Kay’s Bottom on somebody.]

“Just for one thing”

[Kay holding up the Chimichanga Title. Clip of Kay looking at her boobies.]

“If I sorted it out”

[Shots of Kay hitting a Kay’s Bottom on somebody.]

“If I knew all about this one thing”

[Shots of Kay walking out at an SMC.]

“Wouldn’t that be something”

[Shots of Kay walking out at a different SMC. Then clips of her playing with her juggies.]

“I promise I might”

[Clips of Kay surrounded by candles at Massively Cool.]

“Not walk on by”

[Clips of Kay hitting Great Tiny with a German suplex.]

“Maybe next time”

[Clips of Kay hitting XXXtreme Machine with a German suplex.]

“But not this time”

[Clip of Kay hitting Massive Man Rendition First with a German suplex. Clip of Kay Fabe locking in the Wiccan Crossface on MMR1 at November In Nowhere.]

KF: I’ve heard it all. You’ll never win the big one. You’ll never be able to come back from hell and compete in a low budget federation for a secondary title while possessing a redheaded Wiccan’s body.

NH: Look! She just grabbed the Swiss Army Belt. Is she…



Styles: She’s stuffing the Swiss Army Belt down her…tights?



NH: And look at that evil, gap-toothed smile!



SW: C-c-c-an I g-g-g-get in those t-i-t-t-i–t-ights?



KF: Hey, Massive Man? You want this title back? You’ll have to face me. The greatest technical wrestler possessing the body of a redheaded woman today! Get ready for some toothless aggression!



Styles: Oh dear lord.



KF: At MegaBrawl, that’s what it’s all aboot! Eh?



Styles: Massive Man vs. Kay Fabe?


KF: A lot of critics said never. I proved them wrong.

[Various clips are repeated. Then we have shots of Kay Fabe locking in the Wiccan Crossface on Massive Man again.]

Caption: MEGABRAWL, Dec. 15, 2007.

Styles: Kay Fabe ripping and tearing. It’s over! Kay Fabe’s five-year odyssey has culminated by winning the Swiss Army Belt at MEGABRAWL!

[A shot of Kay Fabe holding up the stolen Swiss Army Belt.]

“If I traded it all”

[A shot of Kay Fabe trying to hug some random kid.]

“If I gave it all away for one thing”

[Another shot of Kay Fabe hugging a random kid. Pan out to reveal she’s at a mall. Santa Claus chases her off with a candy cane.]

“Wouldn’t that be something.”

[A shot of Kay Fabe hugging Sarah “The Jobber Slayer” in a naughty way from various angles with a night vision camera. Then a shot of Kay Fabe looking up at the heavens. Then a shot of Kay Fabe holding up the Swiss Army Belt in celebration once again. Fade to black as the song fades out.]

[Fade up to a shot of Massive Man on the screen.]

Caption: In Memory Of Massive Man’s Swiss Army Belt Reign
September – December 2007

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Me and Taxes

November 7th, 2007
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Death

Caption: Somewhere in Florida

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

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

Katie Death

Katie: Ra raaar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sound of a gun shot in the distance.]

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

Katie: Raaaar!

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Hanging with Misty, identity theft and crank calls

October 18th, 2007
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Trey Vincent

Caption: Sin City, King Leary Motel

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

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

Misty Waters

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TV: Porn surfing, pretty much.

[A cell phone rings.]

TV: Hold on a second.

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

TV: Hello?

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

TV: Yes. How are you guys?

MW: A one-way conversation.

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

MW: BOB?

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

[Trey hangs up.]

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

MW: Where to?

TV: Los Santos.

MW: Really? Why?

TV: Trey Vincent’s getting back on TV.

MW: Oh he is? What about you?

TV: You got any good credit cards?

MW: Are you serious?

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

MW: Trey!

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

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

MW: Insane O. Mano?

TV: Right.

MW: Does he even have a Social Security number?

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

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

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

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

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

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

TV: What’s the worst that could happen?

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

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

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

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

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

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

MW: Yep. You sure do.

TV: Misty.

MW: What?

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

MW: *Sigh*

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

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

TV: Coma.

Voice from outside: POINK?

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

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

TV: Oh, one last quick thing.

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

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

[Trey hangs up.]

MW: You’re such a punk.

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

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

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

MW: *Snort*

[Trey hangs up.]

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

MW: What am I gonna do with you?

TV: I can think of a few things.

[Fade out.]

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A Measured Response.

October 18th, 2007
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Seth Harker

[Blackness]

[A single white line fades into view, neatly bisecting the creen horizontally. The line suddenly spikes into jagged peaks as we hear a distant, echoing voice.]

Distant voice: Seth Harkwho???

[The line flattens out again. A brief moment passes, before…]

Distant Voice: Harkwho???

[Beat]

Distant Voice: Cake Walk.

[Slowly, static begins to fill the screen]

Distant Voice: Cake Walk.

[The static envelops us, its hissing still not making that distant, mocking voice inaudible]

Distant Voice: Cake Walk

[The static clears, and we see Seth Harker, standing in the corner of a wrestling ring, head bowed. The arena around him is darkened, empty, shot in grainy black-and-white. The opening chords of “Sleep Now in the Fire” begin to play as the camera glides in toward him. He raises his head as we approach, and speaks one phrase.]

Seth Harker: Such a mistake.

[As Zac de la Rocha lets loose his throat-shredding “YEEEEAAHHHHH!” we SLAM CUT to a series of wrestling arenas, shot in full colour, all packed with fans. Fireworks criss-cross the stage in one, long-haired fans throw Metal gestures in another, but in all we see Seth making his trademark entrance. Each arena is decorated differently, banners from a half-dozen different federations are visible, the shots a wild mish-mash of filmstocks, video, hand-held camcorder footage. A caption erupts onto the screen.]

KNOW ME

[A kalidescope of images stutter across the screen. A staggeringly young Seth, his hair jet-black, receiving the applause of a large contingent of Japanese fans. A slightly-older Seth, standing side-by-side with two masked luchadores in a run-down building well South of the border. Seth high above the ring on a towering scafold. Seth and his brother, Homicidal Hank walking the aisle in BSCW.]

RESPECT ME

[A montage of Seths death-defying spots. The Nightbringer. The Death Dive. A senton off a ladder directly into a dumpster. (Was that Jeff Hardy he landed on? Must have been one of those “Real” feds.) Seth leapfrogging the ringpost and dropping a guillotine legdrop to the floor. An awesomely Matrix-y Bullet Time Facejam. And (in gratuitously slow slow-mo) The Judas Air. Seth taking idiotly punishing moves… including Insano Manos “Esto no lastimará un pedacito” Razors Edge into the ringpost.)

FEAR ME

[Seth drilling a luchadore with a bulldog from the top rope, directly through the American Announce table. Seth, face dripping with blood, glaring at the camera. A vicious chairshot. The jobber-killing evilness of the Tiger-Driver ’91. A spinning toehold. (Hey, shut up, we might want to sell this tape in Japan, smartguy.)]

[The screen abrubtly goes black]

Caption: THOSE WHO CANNOT LEARN FROM HISTORY ARE DOOMED TO REPEAT IT-George Santayana

[SLAM CUT to a series of shots of Seth raising championship belts above his head. Cruiserweight titles, tag team straps, the battered and buckled “AYOOYFM” title.]

[Cut to black. A black-and-white still shot of “Massive Man” Josh fades up.]

Distant Voice: Cake Walk.

[Slowly, Massive Mans face cross-fades into that of Seth Harker. BOB fans suddenly rush to Youtube, wanting to see Godley and Creams’ “Cry” video again.]

Seth Harker: Stepping Stone.

[He fades out. The Swiss Army Belt fades up, then slowly morphs into… the Only World Title That Matters. A final phrase is whispered.]

Seth Harker : It is inevitable.

[ Blackness. Words explode out at the screen.]

LAUGH

THIS

ONE

OFF

BITCH

[Lightning crashes]

DARKSIDER

[Cut to Black]

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Back in the gatdamn saddle (again)

April 9th, 2005

Steve Studnuts

~~~Steve Studnut’s handler, after taking the time to actually read cards and figure out which is which, has some ‘splaining to do. So does Steve, since Connie hinted that Steve was trying to bed Sarah “the Jobber Slayer”, whom EVERYBODY knows Steve’s good buddy, Trey Vincent, would also like to lay the pipe to. Let’s see if Steve can wiggle his way out of this one~~~

Studs: [holding his flip cell] Come on, dude, answer the gatdamn phone. You know I was just goofin’ around. Hell, who wouldn’t like to bone Sarah? Come on ,Trey. Hello?

[Connie walks in, ironically wearing the same thing she had on earlier today. With her is Jizzabelle Cummings, the Shannon Elizabeth and Reese Witherspoon looking tramp that wears even less than Connie and hangs around in Steve’s house.]

Connie: What are you doing, Steve? Trying to smooth things over with Trey?

Studs: Huh? There’s nothin’ to smooth over. I never wanted to bang Sarah. That was YOU assuming shit again. Trying to stir up some shit and hope the smell gets delivered so I get in trouble. Say, did you guys see me beat up Zeno’s bitch? Cool, huh?

Jizz: (sighs) Yeah, real cool, Steve. You’re such a man.

Studs: Hey, she got in the ring…

Connie: So, Steve, what’d Trey say about you calling Sarah “one of those bitches”? And Seth, too. I bet he’s pissed.

Studs: Nah, they know I didn’t mean anythin’ by it. That’s just me bein’ me. I call all women bitches. It’s not personal. Except Zeno’s bitch. And that Bride chick, now she’s a bitch. And Oprah, she’s an overpaid bitch, sittin’-on-a-fuckin’-couch-and-talkin’-to-people overpaid bitch. But I wouldn’t mind pluggin’ that sidekick of hers, Lisa Ling. I could call her Lisa Lingus, ya dig? And she could join you two bitches in my house and spend all my money like you do…

Connie: Don’t try to change the subject, Steve. You’re in some hot water with your iAd buddies, aren’t you? At least you will be when they see your last promo.

Studs: Nope. This one will clear it all up since they know my typing boy is a lame and pitiful wretch that has a bad habit of just writing shit before he pays any attention to storylines and events. Kay Fabe is wonderful gal and Seth and her make an awesome couple. Trey and Sarah are perfect for each other and I honestly think they should get married. Then Trey could knock Sarah up and then she could squeeze out some fuckin’ kick ass future sports entertainers without equal.
Can you imagine that gene pool? Trey and Sarah? Those kids would be fuckin’ unbeatable. That’s a fact.

Jizz: Okay, Steve, you’ve kissed enough ass for one promo….

Studs: You think? Just in case, I think the rug rats Trey and Sarah would produce would be better than the ones Goldberg and Lesnar would have if they fucked each other and Goldberg shitted a kid out. Really, I’m being honest.

Connie: You’re such a suck-up…

Studs: Perhaps, but all that’s tomorrow’s news.

Jizz: You mean yesterday’s?

Studs: Nah, that was about that pope guy. I want to talk about that little fucker with the permanent toe jam. Ya know, it really pays off to follow the shows. How dare that scrub call me out. I’m Steve Studnuts, and he’s not even close… but I know he wishes he could be. So for him to even fuckin’ LOOK at me is an insult. On second though, I’ve decided to keep this YGBKMIADT/AYOOYFM title, and if I ain’t got nothin’ else to do at SUM: ON MY HARD DICK P-P-V, I want that fuckin’ MMR1 guy in whatever hardcore shit this promotion can come up with. Then when I’m finished with that jerkweed…. they’re gonna have to come up with a second rendition for him.

And that…. IS … A …. FACT!

Cut to static, you keyboard striking fucker. I’m outta here.

~~~Cut to static…again~~~

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suspended…

December 16th, 2003
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~~~Scene opens with Steve Studnuts, dressed in black slacks, an acetate stretch shirt (gray), with an unbuttoned sport coat on over it. He’s sitting in a wooden chair in a darkened room, spotlighted with a single bulbed area lamp that’s hanging just over him. A corporate type grills him (but not literally)~~~

Voice: Thank you for coming in today on such short notice, I’m sure you know why you’re here, right Mr. Studnuts.

Studs: Yep.

Voice: Now you know we can’t have you bashing your co-workers on a personal level as you did with your little bio dissecting of a Mr. MMR1 and a Mr. J.C. Long, correct?

Studs: If you say so, jerkweed…

Voice: I’m sure you don’t understand the importance of this violation, Mr. Studnuts. You broke into a password protected forum and copied their bios, then posted childish quips where you thought it would be funny, right? However, Mr. Studnuts, and I do use ‘Mister’ loosely, for you are not a man but a coward to do such a dastardly act, what you did was not funny and very damaging to their characters. I’m ashamed of you. You should be suspended from this promotion, without pay, indefinitely for what you did.

Studs: Did you say “without pay”? Dude, that’s the same as fuckin’ workin’ here. The only difference is that I don’t get to beat anybody up…

Voice: SILENCE! You will speak when spoken to and will not elaborate on your own free will!

Studs: ….

Voice: Now then, I will let you continue to participate in this federation as long as you apologize to those you have offended, and be sincere about it, and promise that you’ll never do such a thing again. Okay?

Studs: …

Voice: Well?

Studs: …

Voice: You have nothing to say?

Studs: Yes.

Voice: Okay, speak freely.

Studs: Stacy Keibler’s Armageddon cartwheel.

Voice: Excuse me?

Studs: Picture of Stacy’s pussy while doing a cartwheel. WWE. Armageddon.

Voice: I know what you’re doing and it’s not humorous in the least bit. Are you going to apologize or not?

Studs: Pussy, Keibler, WWE. Snatch. Armageddon.

Voice: You have absolutely no remorse, do you?

Studs: Terri Runnels’ giant, marble-like nipples.

Voice: Okay, that’s it! Cut tape….

Studs: Gail Kim naked. WWE naked bitches.

Voice: I SAID CUT TAPE!

~~~Static~~~

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MST (Mystery Steve Theater) does MMR1 & JC’s bios!

December 14th, 2003
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~~~And why? Because I’m an asshole.~~~

***Josh Massive Man Rendtion First***

Studs: *cough*—IPOFF!

***6’2″
190lbs
Finisher: Leap of Fate (Fameasser) Sideways Effect (Side Effect only done all wrong)***

Studs: The Sideways Effect isn’t the ONLY thing done all wrong here. That’s a fact.

***Entrance Music: Don’t want you back by Eamon***

Studs: Never heard of “Don’t you want me back by Eamon”, but I bet it sucks. I have heard “Don’t you want me?” by The Human League. And “Do you really want to hurt me?” by Culture Club. Speakin’ of which, I bet you really want to hurt me right now, don’t you? But you can’t. You know why? Because you fuckin’ suck, that’s why.

***Back Story: Josh had spent much of his wrestling career as member a peon***

Studs: As member a peon? A logo, a go-go? Maybe he pee on his own member? YOO GAH
PEN-NIE? FI-TY FOOR CEN! FI-TY FOOR CEN! GOO BARGAIN! *sigh* What a loser….

***in the world of sprot entertainment.***

Studs: *pfffft* (Monster Truck Announcer Guy Voice) LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! TONIGHT! SPROT ENTERTAINMENT AT ITS FINEST! ROWDY SPROTTIE PIPER TAKES ON THE DOG-FACED GREMLIN, SPROT STEINER! SPROT HALL VS. SPROTTIE WHATBODY! LIVE! LIVE! LIVE! BE THERE! OR BE IN JAIL! OR DEAD!

***And the leader of the amazingly successful boyband***

Studs: What the fuck?

***and triad Then Kent State Krew he then went on to be a founding member of the elite Totally Face which dominated BOB’s wrestling for a little over a month.***

Studs: Easy for you to say…. say what? Elite, Totally Face and dominant should NEVER be mentioned in the same run-on sentence again, young man. Shame on you.

***But then Josh found his calling.***

Studs: Lead dancer at a gay men’s cabaret?

***He was put here on this very earth***

Studs: You mean there’s ANOTHER one somewhere? Gatdamned On Star. I knew this fuckin’ thing wouldn’t work right.

***to spread the word of the greatest power known to man. JOSHITUDE!***

Studs: Ummm, that’s a lie. Everybody knows the greatest power known to man is pussy. At least it is on MY planet….

***The Rabbi of Joshitude***

Studs: Silly rabbi, kids are for tricks. But I guess the Catholic priests already knew that….

***as he calls himself has been and will destroy any foe put in his path and he will do it with a smile on his face, well a smile or a frown, or even maybe a smirk.***

Studs: And quite possibly some jism from this next knob gobbler you’ll hear about.

***JC Long (aka The Regular Guy JC Long, aka Mr. Thursday Night JC Long)
6’4″
235lbs
Finisher: Drop The Mic (Full Nelson Slam)***

Studs: After knockin’ a Jagger of his feet or a Tyson off his feet depending on your pronounciation.

*** Beat Box (JC spits in his opponents face (trying to do a beat box) and then gives him the clothesline from hell)***

Studs: Which is basically The Clothesline from Cleveland.

***Back Story: JC Long has been involved in BOB’s wrestling since he first got here.***

Studs: As oppossed to when he second got here, when he wasn’t involved quite as much. Besides, isn’t being involved with somethin’ when you first get here about as obvious as one can get? I dunno, maybe it’s just me…

***He began his stint as The Regular Guy JC Long but was soon confused for the heteroly***

Studs: Heteroly? Is that even a word? Hey, isn’t the singer for Pearl Jam named Eddie Vedderoli? You betteroli go find out before I get pissed. Maybe my dog can sniff out the truth… I have an Irish Setteroli. Heh.

***impaired “Da Sassy One”***

Studs: Isn’t that redundant?

***so he quickly changed to Mr. Thursday Night JC Long which stuck with him for several years and through several heart breaking title match losses.***

Studs: What didn’t stick, however… was a comma or two. Hey, didn’t you compete in Uncany Carnage Wrestling?

*** So JC found a secret weapon a weapon in Joshitude.***

Studs: Hmmm, let’s see. A weapon in Joshitude, a SECRET weapon. A secret weapon a weapon, huh? Where was it hidin’? In his ass? How long did it take you to find it? And what was it? OoooooooOOOOOOoooh, Joshitude WAS the weapon, eh? I’m lost. I need a hug.

***Josh and JC became fast friends***

Studs: Hey, I’d be you friend, too, if you pulled a secret weapon a weapon that was in me. Oh yeah, I really would. So tell me, were you guys just “fast friends”, or butt buddies? And what’s the difference between fast friends, and say…. slow friends or medium speed friends? I mean, other than the blantantly obvious reference to motion?

***as JC was sent to pick up Josh’s dry cleaning and lunch and kids from school.***

Studs: Fast firends = “MY NEW BITCH”. Ooooooo-kay. And why didn’t MY school do my dry cleanin’? Fuckin’ cheap bastards….

***Nevertheless JC was soon rewarded for his long time service by being the first graduate of the school of Joshitude.***

Studs: (sings) JC ser-viced Jah-osh…. JC ser-viced Jah-osh! You guys ARE fags!

***JC is now not only on the path to one day become a BOB’s superstar but he is in talks to have a hip hop album released***

Studs: BWAAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAAA! I don’t know what’s more hilarious, the BOB superstar thingee or the hip hop album thingee. I guess it doesn’t matter…. really, it doesn’t.

Oh well…

Later, losers.

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This Just in Injury Report……

October 23rd, 2003
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At a Recent BOAB house show accidental missed spot has caused a horrible accident the likes of which we will never know. Oh wait yes we will.

In a match scheduled by one William Polar, Street Mime vs Massive Man Rendition First, Street Mime hit a snapmare on the up and coming superstar and it broke his big toe….Doctors are unsure how much ring time he will miss.

😀

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