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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?

Boobies

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?

Boobies

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?

Boobies

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!

Boobies

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!

**click**

~~~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!

Heh.

~~~static~~~

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Yes. We. Can.

November 5th, 2008
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Axl

“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 ;]

“Believe.”

[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?]

Axl: NO, YOU NINNY!!! ME!

[… 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…]

Axl: I’M NOT LISTENING!!!

|the|

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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!

NH: BWAAA HAAA HAAAAAA!

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…

GET IT?

GOT IT?

GOOD!

(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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Yeah, faggots. I voted!

November 4th, 2008
Comments Off on Yeah, faggots. I voted!

Steve Studnuts

~~~Steve Studnuts and Connie Lingus are leaving a generic looking building. There’s a long line of people waiting to get in.~~~

Connie: So, Steve. Tell me. Who’d you vote for?

Studs: What do you think? We live in Arizona. DUH!

Connie: Don’t say “duh” to me, you know that makes me feel stupid.

Studs: Well, DUH!

Connie: Okay, I’m not talking to you all the way home.

Studs: So?

Connie: I’m not putting out either.

Studs: So?

Connie: No turkey pot pie tonight for you…

Studs: Okay, THAT’S where you fucked up. I take it back. Okay? Feel better? I take it ALL back.

Connie: Hmphf.

Studs: Come on, I was just kiddin’ around. You know I voted for the Mac. Besides, how the fuck could I vote for some fucker named Barack? That sounds like a motherfucker from Mortal Kombat. And anyway, do you know how close Osama bin Laden sounds like Obama and Biden? Think about that fuckin’ shit for a minute.

Connie: Yeah, I guess you’re right. (they get into Steve’s canary yellow Ferrari) Hey, what’s that smell?

Studs: (while putting on his seat belt) It’s chicken. Got some chicken bones in the back. Dealin’ in a little voodoo this weekend. Ya dig?

Connie: Voodoo? Like voodoo curses? Didn’t work against Plants.

Studs: Fuck Plants, I’ll kick his ass at MEGABRAWL, I hexed the Sin City Icons. Motherfuckers needed a loss this week.

~~~He revs the engine to almost a near blown gasket, then peels out.~~~

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A Heart Warming Scene

November 2nd, 2008

Scatman

[Scatman is sat at a table covered in broken plate pieces eating raw mincemeat.]

Christian St. Christian: Even your eyes stink.

Scatman: I had to use my own glue to make the contact lenses stick.

CSC: What the hell are you eatng? Meat and treacle?

Scatman: There wasn’t any maple syrup.

[Scatman slurps down a glass of brown colored water.]

Christian St. Christian

Jerri Li: Hey cumwads, what the hell are you eating?

Scatman: Mincemeat and treacle, what’s wrong with that?

Jerri: Don’t you normally eat shit?

Scatman: Hey, I’m a wrestler now. I need protein to stay in shape.

CSC: The shape of a wet paper cup.

Scatman: You’re just lucky we aren’t fighting, I would’ve kicked your ass to the moon and back.

Jerri Li

Jerri: Someone knock me out, I can’t stand this bickering.

Scatman: Just hit yourself with a brick, that always works.

CSC: Scatman, can you be serious for a minute? I think I have an idea who Plants booked us against at October Surprise. Here, take this.

[He hands Scatman a piece of paper written on in pencil.]

CSC: That’s some strategy to use if it is who I think it is.

Scatman: I can’t read this!

CSC: That’s because you got shit all over it!

[He snatches the paper back angrily.]

Scatman: Dude, we don’t need anymore training anyway. The Great learns his stuff from Smackdown vs Raw, you can play Mario and I’ll just watch girls mud wrestling. It all works out!

[He jumps up onto the table and swings his hips with his hands on his head.]

Scatman: In fact, I’m gonna do some working out now.

[He runs off suddenly, dragging the tablecloth and plates off the table under his feet as he goes.]

CSC: He’s from another world completely.

Jerri: I’m splitting apart on the inside over this match. I booked you guys against each other because you wrestle like pussies and will be able to run-in on my match. I know my teammates are good, and Death is the grim reaper for crying out loud, but the beefed up iAd are the kings of sports entertainment.

CSC: I’m not running in on your match! You’re supposed to be a masochist, what the hell do you care if you get another beating from Studnuts?

Jerri: When I held that T&A XX title, I don’t know, it made me feel powerful. Like I was the king.

CSC: Don’t you mean queen?

Jerri: Whatever. Sarah’s in that match and she’s got my belt. She’s disgracing the legacy I made for it. She doesn’t even hit herself with weapons. I need to get it back!

[St. Christian puts his arm around her.]

CSC: Do you wanna go watch mud wrestling with Scatman? He’s probably turned over all the furniture in the room by now.

Jerri: Can I smash his head through the TV screen?

CSC: Anything you want.

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Zombieproof

October 23rd, 2008
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Death

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?”

“Braaaaains!”

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

“Brains.”

“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.”

“Uhhhhh~!”

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

“Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains!”

“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.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh!”

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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Greatest…day…ever?

October 13th, 2008
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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!

NH: HEY! THAT’S FOR ME!

[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.]

SMP: BWAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! OH… MY…. GOD! BWAAAAA HAAA! My sides hurt! They’re splitting! BWAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

[Fade out to SMPROTFLHFAO.]

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Send My Wife Dead Flowers

September 24th, 2008
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Death

Death was feeling nostalgic. He looked over various photos and random merchandise he collected over the years that never sold because BOB is terrible at running a profitable company. Ah, the good old days of the Skull & Bones Society. But now Death and Steve Studnuts will face each other for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. In a cage. On Total Non-Action Wrestling iMPLOSION 10.

“Them Bones” by Alice in Chains ringing on his cell phone agitated Death.

“Hello?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” came the reply, followed by wheezing.

“For the last time, this isn’t 976-HOTT.” Death hung up the phone.

Then the doorbell rang.

“I’ve got to get to Sin City. The show’s about to start. Now what?”

Death rushed to the door of his palatial estate. After a few seconds, he opened the door. A bald, veiny, pale mishapen creature stood on his front step with a handful of dead black roses.

“Hey, Death.”

“Tyrant. How’s it going?”

“Not bad. Got a delivery here for your wife.”

Death stared at Tyrant for several seconds.

“I don’t need a signature, I guess.”

Death stared at Tyrant.

“So, I guess there’s no tip?”

Death stared at Tyrant.

“C’mon, man. I’ve got two Cerberus’s to feed. Have a heart.”

“I don’t HAVE a heart.”

“Do I have to kick your ass?” Tyrant asked, tossing the flowers down.

“I don’t have an ass.”

“I’ll skin you alive!”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Death said with a chuckle. “Wait. Steve? Studnuts?”

“No. Tyrant! Remember?”

“Oh. You just sounded like some other jacked up idiot who won’t ever be able to conquer me. My bad.”

“Hmm. Why do I feel like I’ve been used as a prop in a roleplay?”

“That’s YOUR issue, man. Not mine. And who sent the dead black roses?”

“I think it was Zorro.”

Tyrant handed Death a small envelope. After a rip and a poof, Death shook out a card. The inside of the card was simply signed with a bloody “Z.” Oh, and a piece of tongue.

“Vincent van Zombie?” Tyrant asked.

Once again, “Them Bones” on his cell phone played.

“Hello?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” came the reply, followed by wheezing.

Death hung up. Tyrant stared at him.

“You’re waiting for a tip, aren’t you? Fine.”

Death reached into his cloak. Instead of money, Tyrant received a middle finger salute. Then the door was slammed shut in his face.

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!MPLOSION! 10

September 24th, 2008

Steve Studnuts

~~~Steve Studnuts is sitting at his computer, contemplating if he should play Jonathan Stewart instead of Michael Turner in week 4. Connie Lingus walks up.~~~

Connie: Steve? Shouldn’t you be doing a promo for your match with Death instead of worrying about your fantasy football team?

Studs: The fuck? What do you think is more important?

Connie: I guess the promo since I’m asking you about it.

Studs: NOTHING is more important than fantasy football. Ya dig? Besides, I can beat Death any day of the week. He can never beat me, the jerkweed has no heart. Heh.

Connie: Is that a bad joke about him being a skeleton?

Studs: I didn’t think it was that fuckin’ bad. Besides, I have a lot to prove this week. This is a cage match, on an !MPLOSION! card. What the fuck is that? I’m the GRAND SLAM ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS wrestling the number 1 contender, a former ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, IN A CAGE MATCH? For FREE? Why is this not an On-Demand match? I’m in demand for On-Demand!

Connie: Oooooookay.

Studs: On top of that, I’m extra motivated to stomp the fuck out of Death since somebody in the locker room recently called me a primadonna.

Connie: Somebody called you Cher?

Studs: Huh?

Connie: Diana Ross?

Studs: What the fuck? No, bitch…. not “PRE” Madonna. P-R-I-M-A-D-O-N-N-A.

Connie: I’d agree with that.

Studs: What-the-fuck-ever. ANY-way…I can’t believe the boys up front didn’t think Studnuts/Death/Cage wasn’t a draw enough for some Send Us Money action. It’s an insult. So, instead of mailin’ it in like I planned on doin’, I’m gonna beat the skin off Death.

Connie: How is that possible? He doesn’t have skin.

Studs: Alright then. I’ll rip his fuckin’ guts out.

Connie: No guts, either.

Studs: I’ll poke his eyes out and skull fuck him to death.

Connie: What eyes? And what does humping his skull have to do with wrestling?

Studs: I’ll kick his fuckin’ ass!

Connie: But he doesn’t have an ass. Technically.

Studs: GATDAMMIT! Can’t I get a human fuckin’ bein’ to talk trash about? How about this? I’ll break all his readily accessible and visibly obvious bones!

Connie: Doesn’t quite have the ring of “kicking his ass.”

Studs: Good point. Regardless, I’ll make the suits sorry for offering this TOTAL DOMINATION on free television. A beatin’ this bad, you should have to pay to see, then look away and waste your money due to the sheer brutality of it.

Connie: I thought Trey and Seth were in charge of setting up the matches.

~~~Studnuts ponders this for a minute~~~

Studs: Do you think Trey is fuckin’ with me?

Connie: Well, he had the chance to keep Death from coming after you, and here you are wrestling Death in a cage match.

Studs: Yeeeeeah. And Trey, or Seth, had to sign this fuckin’ match, right?

Connie: I’m sure you guys have a plan.

Studs: I haven’t heard of a plan. Trey’s fuckin’ with me, I know it. Before long he’ll have me wrestlin’ a gatdamn grizzly bear like they did in the 70’s or in an angle with a cheap Cryme Tyme knock-off.

Connie: Panda.

Studs: Huh?

Connie: Panda bear. There’s a panda bear in your wrestling league.

Studs: You’re fuckin’ kiddin me, right?

Connie: Don’t you look at the other promos?

Studs: Duh? Why?

Connie: You should, before Thiefer Sutherland steals your spot.

Studs: Thiefer Sutherland? Pffft. That’s the most ridiculous fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard. Cool name, though.
Thiefer Sutherland… some fucker named that stealing my spot? What’s next? Clay Aiken finally admittin’ he’s fuckin’ gay?

~~~Steve goes back to his computer screen.~~~

Studs: Fuck it, I’m leavin Turner in there. WHAT THE FUCK? What dumb motherfucker dropped Mendenhall with Parker out this week? And who drops Roethlisberger for…. who THE FUCK is J.T. O’Sullivan?

Time to hit the waiver wire, bitches!

~~~static~~~

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no subject was filled in

September 13th, 2008

Steve Studnuts

~~~Connie Lingus and Jizzabelle Cummins are dancing around Steve Studnuts’ home in Phoenix, nearly naked, with a bunch of frat boys from Arizona State University waving dollars over their heads. Steve walks in with a large welt on his forehead and looking like somebody stole the format of his promos.~~~

Connie: Steve? What’s wrong?

~~~He drops his title belts on the floor.~~~

Studs: I’ve lost my smile.

Connie: What does that mean?

Studs: It means I have to go find my fuckin’ smile.

Connie: You leaving?

Studs: Yep.

Jizz: When will you be back?

Studs: Don’t fuckin’ know.

Connie: You’re not pulling a Vince Young, are you?

Studs: Connie, quit draggin’ out this promo. My handler’s at work. He doesn’t have all fuckin’ day. Ya dig?

Jizz: Steve, you’re scaring us.

Studs: So be it. Fuck off.

~~~Steve turns and walks back out the front door.~~~

rant