Posts Tagged ‘Styles’

Catching Up

November 7th, 2002
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Cloudydale. A place that Sarah “The Jobber Slayer,” Kay Fabe and Xamfir (and Styles and Little Good to a lesser extent) put on the map. Granted, not Rand McNally’s map, but on the parody e-wrestling map. The place is legendary, giving us the beautiful Sarah, the hot lesbian Kay and, well, the other guys. Do you even remember the last time this group was together? If so, you’re a loser, because even I, the writer, don’t remember their last exploits. But tonight, that all changes. Because it is time, to head back, to Cloudydale!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So let’s get to it:

Xamfir was out antiqueing in some dusty old shop in town. He was looking over various items on a shelf, including pots, pans, glasses, bongs and dildos, when he noticed a tea kettle on the bottom shelf.

“Wow, a dirty tea kettle!”

He went up to the register and put down the tea kettle. The woman behind the counter looked down at the kettle, then up at Xamfir.

“Are you SURE, you want to buy this tea kettle?”

“No,” Xamfir said. “I mean, yes. I mean. I don’t know.”

The woman smiled. “This will be too easy for you,” she said patting the handle of the kettle.
Xamfir looked down at the kettle.

“MWAHAHAHA,” the woman began to laugh. “That will be $20. MWAHAHAHAHA.”

“What’s so funny?” Xamfir asked. “Is this a cursed tea kettle or something?”

“No,” she said with one last snort. “But, on a completely unrelated note, ALL SALES FINAL!” After putting the money in her drawers, she bagged his kettle. “Thank you. Come again.”

Xamfir slowly walked out the door as the lady MWAHAHAHAed a couple more times.

“This can’t be good,” Xamfir said.

Cue that opening theme song, “Temptation Waits.” Hey, I remember when that happened. Oh that was a good promo. LOL! Oh man, that was funny. This Rant stars Sarah. Kay Fabe. Xamfir. And special guest star…..STYLES! The Slayaholics are back baby! WOOOO!

“I’ll send an SOS to the world, I’ll send an SOS to the world, I hope that someone gets my, I hope that someone gets my, I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle,” sang out Sting’s beautiful voice.

Meanwhile, another beautiful thing was in the room. Er, person. Sarah “The Jobber Slayer.” She sat against the pillows in her bed, knees curled up to her lovely chest, just listening to the music.

And staring at her target on the wall.

Trey Vincent. With a big red circle and a bulls eye around his cocky face.

Knock, knock.

Sarah looked up. Kay Fabe was standing there in nothing but a white towel. Her voluptuous milk-white breasts wanted to just spill over the towel, or maybe I’m just wishing that would happen, but they didn’t.

“FINALLYKay Fabe, HAS COME BACKTo Sarah’s room. Hello Sarah.”

“Hey Kay.”

“What in the pink hell is wrong with you?” Kay asked.

“I dunno. It’s just…with Angel going back to Heaven, I’m just feeling kinda…”

“Horny?” Kay said licking her lips with the Lesbian’s Tongue.

“No, God,” she said all disgusted-like. “I feel like I’ve lost my smile for efedding.”

“You had a smile?”

“I want to do some goodness with my newly won booking power. But I don’t know what I should do first. All I know is I want to get rid of Trey Vincent, Steve Studnuts and Seth Harker and get back to what I do best. Slaying jobbers. They SO screwed up my gimmick.”

Sarah stared at Vincent’s smiling face on her wall.

“Well, Kay Fabe will be in the bathtub with her hot gravy.”

Sarah raised both her eyebrows.

“You heard the Lesbian opening all those cans of gravy before, right?”

“Ahh. Is that what you were up to,” Sarah said, sounding a bit relieved. “Didn’t know we had an electric can opener.”

Kay looked puzzled. “We don’t.”

Now Sarah was puzzled.

“Want to come with? Kay Fabe could pin you in the gravy and then try to count three.”

“I’ll pass. But we’re still on for later. I will help you try out referee shirts at the mall.”


Meanwhile, Xamfir got back to his basement apartment. He tipped his sack over and the kettle fell out onto the bed. He looked at it, then quickly pulled off his shoes, pants, underwear and shirt and sat on the bed. He used his shirt and began rubbing.


Man, you guys are sick.

As he began rubbing, harder and harder, faster and faster, a strange thing happened.
Something came out.

OF THE KETTLE! How many times do.forget it.

It was an amorphous form. It oozed out from the tip.


And slowly began to take shape. Before Xamfir.

It was a hot woman with shortish blonde hair. She was dressed like a genie. Oddly enough, she just might have been one.

“Hello. I am your wishmaster. Your wish is my command.”

Naked Xamfir looked up at her, mouth hanging open. Perhaps wondering if he should do the Snoopy dance, or something far more important. Something that could change his life forever. And ever. AND EVER!

But you won’t know because Sarah and Kay are about to head out the front door of Sarah’s house, where apparently, Sarah and Kay are roommates, for more plot development.

But no time for minor details like that, because Styles burts in!

“OH MY GOD! Sarah, don’t you want me to be your Commentator anymore?”

Sarah shrugs. “No big. You can go announce matches and say Oh my god and all that goodness. It’s all gravy.”

“Kay Fabe was just NAKED in a bathtub full of gravy! So if you smell what Kay Fabe is cooking. It’s gravy.”

“Wanna come to the mall?” Sarah asked Styles.


They opened the door.

There was a beautiful, thin, teen-age girl with long brown hair there. Looking kinda awkward.

“Who are you?” Sarah asked.

“I’m your sister.”

[To be continued….]

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Odd sex habits and fetishes

April 19th, 2002
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Previously, on Sarah:

“Is The Domino dead? How did he possess Kay?” Sarah asks.

“He must be dead. I bet the WWF had him killed, and now he’s returned from beyond the grave to carry out some sort of vengeance. But you shouldn’t worry,” Styles says.


“Kay Fabe is dead, monkey crap. The Domino has stolen her beautiful body to call home. And all women, especially Sarah, are invited in, any time, any place,” Kay says.


“Oh my God, wait,” Styles says. “If Kay believes she is The Domino, she can’t, as some would, change their gimmick. In Kay Fabe’s world, gimmicks don’t exist. We may have to take more drastic action.”

“Kay, I’m sorry,” Sarah says.

Suddenly, Sarah’s foot is in Kay’s face. Kay, unprepared for the kick, falls back and her head bounces off the court. Her world becomes….



[Little Good’s apartment.]

He is sitting in his recliner, watching an episode of “Seventh Heaven” on the tele. Sarah walks out of the bedroom, wearing only a long blue pajama top. She looks at the TV, then at Little Good.

“You disgust me. How can you watch such wholesome, family valuesy stuff like this?” she asks.

“Umm, because it, uh…”

“Jessica Biel?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

“If you had a choice between me and her, who would you pick?”

“Honestly, Jessica.”

Sarah charges at Little Good and kicks him in the chin. He tips over backwards, as does the recliner, trapping him underneath. Sarah tosses the chair aside and picks him up by the throat.

“Listen up, with the last few weeks I’ve been having, I don’t need to know that my loser boyfriend would rather be with someone else. I haven’t won. Twice! First March Mayhem, then of all things, to Joanie Laurer!”

“Don’t forget about Gluttons For Punishment thing too. That’s three. Granted you came in second, but I thought you couldn’t be beaten. Sounds like you’ve done you’re own right share of ‘jobbing’ in BOB.”

Her eyes open wide in anger and she whips him around and throws him into the wall. He becomes part of the wall as his backside makes a huge indent.

“Owww!” Little Good yells. “That hurts, y’know.”

Little Good breaks free, grabs Sarah’s arms and whips her around and makes a new dent in the same wall.


Sarah punches Little Good.

Little Good punches Sarah back.

He throws her onto the bear skin rug on the floor and they begin throwing off clothes and violently kissing each other.

[Xamfir’s bedroom.]

“Sarah said she’d be here,” Xamfir says apologetically.

“THE….I mean, I’m used to it,” Kay says. “Let me ask you something Xamfir.”


“Do you like….pie?”

“Yeah. Who doesn’t?”

A mouse runs in between them. They’re sitting on his bed. Did I forget to mention that? Well they are. Xamfir sees the mouse and smiles widely. Heputs his hand over the little white creature, trapping him. He stands up and starts to pull his sweatpants down, but…

“Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoawhoa, WHOA!” Kay says, standing up and retreating. “What in the BLUE HELL are you doing?”

Xamfir stares at Kay, tense, paralyzed, with his sweatpants a few inches below the waistline, but still not revealing anything too hairy. His frozen status breaks when he chuckles and pulls his pants back up completely.

“Nothing,” Xamfir says with a nervous laugh.

“Were you going to take that mouse……turn him sideways…..and stick him straight up your CANDY ASS?”
“You know Kay…you’re still using a lot of The Domino’s catchphrases.”

“Um, hello, mouse, ass…”

“Call it even? Forget the whole thing?” Xamfir suggests.


[Little Good’s bathroom.]

Sarah and Little Good are wrapped up in Little Good’s shower curtain in his bathtub.

“I can’t help but feel I forgot to do something,” Sarah says, looking puzzled.

“You can still go south of the border on me. Just give me a few minutes.”

“No,” Sarah says twisting his nipple.


“God, you’re so disgusting.”

“I’m Little Good, baby.”

[Xamfir’s kitchen.]

Xamfir pulls out a package of American cheese slices. He pulls of the wrappers and fills up a dinner plate with 24 slices. He eats….

One piece.

Two pieces.

Three pieces.


Four pieces of cheese.

Kay is still there.

Five pieces.
“You’ve got some naughty intentions, don’t you? You’re gonna eat cheese in hopes the mouse goes looking for it, like your sphincter is a maze.”

Six pieces. He sighs.

“If you’re just gonna keep making accusations, you can go somewhere else. Lesbian! You’re going to Hell!”

Seven pieces.

Eight pieces.

“What ever happened to your dog,” Kay asks. “The one that was raped and you thought needed an abortion.”

“Damn it. I forgot all about that, we haven’t promoed for so long. I should go to Sarah’s….tomorrow.”

Nine pieces.

Ten pieces.

“THE….I mean, I’m, getting out of here and going somewhere, that isn’t here.”

Eleven pieces.

[Styles’ place.]

Styles is on the phone.

“OH MY GOD! That’s great news. Thank you. It’ll give me something to do finally.”


Kay walks into the bar.

Everyone: “Kay!”

“Shut up jabroneys.” She walks to the bar. Kay is wearing Elvis-like sunglasses, a Scorpion Queen T-shirt and black workout pants.

The door opens. It’s Styles! But Kay doesn’t notice him. Giving us….that’s right, plot development.

“Give The Domino a martini…..not shaken, but stirred!”

Styles gasps! Then he runs out the door.

[Xamfir’s bed…a few minutes later.]

Xamfir is on his bed, holding his stomach.

“So, much, cheese.”

He pulls the mouse from his T-shirt pocket and gets nose to nose with it.

“Hope you can smell the cheese through everything else I ate.”

He sits up and gets under the blanket, PG-13 style. Then he takes off his sweatpants and….

Styles barges in!

Styles looks at Xamfir, who is holding the mouse by the tail and has his legs up under the blanket, tent-style.

Guess what Styles says.

Styles runs out.

Xamfir drops the mouse.

[Little Good’s apartment, yet more minutes later.]

The couple is in bed. Covered in peanut butter. And ice cream. And whipped cream. Little Good is eating a cherry off of Sarah while Sarah eats a banana off Little Good.

Styles barges in!


They look up at him.

“Human sundaes? I’m so hungry all of a sudden.”

“Why in the bloody hell are you here,” Little Good asks, “and you might want to add I’m quite annoyed.”

“Two shocking plot developments. First, I’ve bought Jeers. So I went there…”

“You bought Jeers?” Little Good interrupts. “You’re not gonna clean it up, are ya? A fella likes to unwind with…”

“Haven’t figured that far yet.”

“Good, I’ll…”

“Shut up!” Styles yells.

“Or what?” Little Good says standing up on the bed.

Styles puts a hand up and turns away to shield himself from Little Good’s banana. “Sit down! Sarah, Kay Fabe is still The Domino!”

“She’s what?”

“The Domino!” Styles repeats.

“I thought we cured her?”

“Apparently not,” Styles says.

“Are you sure?”


“Kay is the Domino,” Sarah says.

“Or, The Domino is Kay.”

“I think Kay’s pretending to be The Domino pretending to be Kay,” Sarah says.

“She was Kay, then Spanish, then Kay again, then The Domino,then Kay, but not really Kay, but in reality, The Domino pretending to be Kay?” Little Good asks.

“Right,” Styles says.

“Hmm,” Sarah says. “We’ve got to cure her.”

“Y’know what I think. I think Trey Vincent has something to do with this,” Little Good says.

“Don’t ever say that name again,” Sarah says.

“Sorry,” Little Good says. “But ever since he kidnapped her, she ain’t been right in the noggin.”

“He’s right,” Style says. “I know how to cure her. But you won’t like it.”

“Spill,” Sarah says.


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Finally, The Domino, has come back…..

March 19th, 2002
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“I don’t get it,” Sarah tells Styles.

They’re sitting on a basketball court on the sideline. The place is deserted. Just them. Just a couple of lights on. If Styles were shady, he’d consider it ‘mood lighting’ and he might consider this a date, but he’s not. He holds a sacred position: Sarah’s commentator. And nothing could ever make him think otherwise. Plus, Sarah thinks Styles is old.

“Is The Domino dead? How did he possess Kay?”

“He must be dead. I bet the WWF had him killed, and now he’s returned from beyond the grave to carry out some sort of vengeance. But you shouldn’t worry,” Styles says.

“I never get the wiggins. He’s just a jobber. I slay jobbers. That’s my job. If Kay and I cross paths in the tournament, well, I’ll have to slay her. And hopefully after The Domino loses, he’ll leave Kay. You know, this is really starting to raise the annoy level. Ever since Kurt Cobain revealed Kay has the hots for me, there’s always something keeping us from talking. First it was Trey Vincent, now The Domino. It’s almost like somebody’s trying to draw out the inevitable.”

“Like thinking of an old, fat, ugly woman during sex. Or your dad.”

“Ewww. You think of my dad during sex?”

“Well….it helps.”

“In what way?”

“Let’s drop this.”

“Multiple please.”


Meanwhile, at Toys ‘R’ Us.

“Finally, The Domino HAS COME BACK…

To the action figure aisle.”

“Yeah. That was funny the last seven aisles,” Xamfir says.

“Shut up jabrony. Why are you still following around The Domino? The Domino is NOT signing an autograph for a little rudy poo, candy ass with a Mickey Mouse haircut,” Kay Fabe says.

Kay Fabe is in front of the WWF figures. She pulls off a The Rock(TM) figure.

“Where are the BOB action figures? Where is The Domino?”

“Did Mickey Mouse have hair,” Xamfir wonders.

“IT DOESN’T MATTER if Mickey Mouse had hair!”

“You are Kay Fabe. Did you bump your head or something.”

“No, she didn’t bump her head or any other part of her body.” Kay grabs her breasts. “Though it’s tough to tell here,” she says gently running her hands around her breasts.

Oh yeah, for the visually impaired, she’s still dressed in a black shirt with a red E on the front and black workout pants. Xamfir, meanwhile, is dressed like the Crocodile Hunter guy from TV.

“You know what I think Kay? I think you’re afraid to deal with Sarah one on one.”

“One, on one, with the great one?”

“Kay! Come back!”

“What in the blue hell are you talking about?” Kay throws the toy to the floor and heads to the next aisle.

“Finally, The Domino, HAS COME BACK, to the second action figure aisle.”

“Well, first off…The Domino was a heel when he left BOB.”

“Well, big piece of monkey crap, the fans made me their champion.”

Kay Fabe is on the move again, now heading to the video games.

“Finally, The Domino, HAS COME BACK…”

“To the video game aislek” Xamfir says, bored-like.

“Hey, this isn’t sing along with The Domino. ….to the video game area! It’s not an aisle, jabrony.”

“Kay, let’s go see Sarah. You two can talk.”

“Wait, are you telling The Domino that Sarah and Kay Fabe are a little….come ci, come ca?”

“Well, yeah? But you know that. You ARE Kay Fabe.”

“Kay Fabe is dead, monkey crap. The Domino has stolen her beautiful body to call home. And all women, especially Sarah, are invited in, any time, any place.”

“Fine, let’s go see her then.”

“Don’t tell The Domino what to do. The Domino tells you what to do. Why don’t you go play with your panflute, go steal some more Salvation Army clothes, know your role, and SHUT your mouth!”


“Finally, The Domino, HAS COME BACK…to this empty gymnasium.”

“Kay!” Sarah shouts.

“Yes?” Kay answers.

“Xamfir says she’s not Kay. I think she bumped her head,” Xamfir says.

“I’m Kay. What are you talking about Xamfir?”


“I said I’m Kay.”

Everyone: “What?”

“Fine, The Domino is The Domino. Stop whatting me!”

“Knew it,” Styles says.

“I want Kay back,” Sarah demands.

“Why, so you two can get all naked and sweaty together?”

“Xamfir!” Sarah says, quite disgusted.

“Sorry,” Xamfir says. “Everyone was thinking it!” He puts his thumb in his mouth and sits down cross-legged.

“She’s my best friend. I’m not going to have sex with Kay Fabe. Besides, I know she’s not The Domino and is just pretending. Don’t you remember that last four-parter we did? If Kay was possessed, she couldn’t keep our world together.”

“She couldn’t? Why?” Kay asks.

“Because. She’s BOB’s guardian. We’re on the fault line between reality and fiction, and anytime BOB starts to fall into reality, she pulls it back. We haven’t been pulled since your ‘possession.’ meaning Kay, stop faking. Be Kay again.”

“Oh my God, wait,” Styles says. “If Kay believes she is The Domino, she can’t, as some would, change their gimmick. In Kay Fabe’s world, gimmicks don’t exist. We may have to take more drastic action.”

“Kay, I’m sorry,” Sarah says.

Suddenly, Sarah’s foot is in Kay’s face. Kay, unprepared for the kick, falls back and her head bounces off the court. Her world becomes….


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Sarah: The Musical (Or: Once More, With Heroin)

February 18th, 2002
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**************Previously in Sarah’s promos:********************

“Hold on, hold on,” Little Good says. “Wait a bleeding minute. Why are you two Slayaholics sitting next to one of your biggest enemies?”

“I don’t know,” Kay says. “It’s just, we haven’t had much to do since the title win. With Sarah off on her ego trip, I’ve been forced to look back at myself in my pre-everything that makes me sexy phase. It sucks.”

“And I’m not even introduced yet,” Xamfir says. “But Little Good, we came here for a reason.”

“Are you two trying to turn heel? That’s so…..intriguing,” Little Good says.

[Cut to]

“I’m going to make a bigger mess of you than I did The Poltergeist,” Kay says.

“Why?” Sarah asks, walking to the ring.

“Because I’m nothing to you anymore.”

“Yes you are.”

“What, supporting material?”

Sarah gets in the ring. “Kay, you’re my best friend in the whole world. Ever since we first met way back in high school. I love you Kay. Just remember that as you crack my skull.”

She starts the swing.

And pauses.

Starts the swing.

And stops just short of Sarah’s forehead.

Kay and Sarah stare at each other.

Sarah grabs the stick and softly shoves it aside. Sarah approaches Kay slowly. Sarah takes off Kay’s witch hat and drops it on the canvas. Sarah runs a hand through Kay’s beautiful red hair.

“Oh, my,” Styles says, loosening his tie and trying to unbuckle his belt.

The girls look deep into each others eyes. Their lips inch and inch closer together.

[Cut to]

“I love them. I really do. But sometimes, they get so self-involved it’s not fair. There was this one time I accidentally hit both of them in the head with a chair. And they’re complaining about how much their head hurts, since I swing a mean chair. But, what about my pain? I felt so guilty about hitting them, but all they cared about were there lacerations and bumps on their head. I have feelings too!”

Sarah puts a hand to her eyes and begins whimpering.

###You bitch. OK, that does it. I’m so bringing out the big guns when I get back to my body. I’ve been saving a spell for you Little Miss Slayer person. A spell so unoriginal it may cost you a lawsuit of epic proportions. Oh yeah.###

**************End previousity********************

Kay sits in a sacred squared circle in a room lit only by candles.

“In the name of Elvis Presley. In the name of Jim Morrison. In the name of every Spinal Tap drummer. I command the Spirit of Rock N Roll appear before me!”

The candles all blow out.

Cue that promo theme music (Garbage’s “Temptation Waits”) and opening credits. This promos stars Sarah…..Kay Fabe…….Xamfir…..Styles…..and Kurt Cobain’s ghost as The Spirit of Rock N Roll.


Kay Fabe turns on a light switch. Standing in front of the sacred squared circle is Kurt Cobain!

“Oh my God!” Kay gasps, as somewhere, Styles’ head explodes following the blatant catchphrase theft. “You’re the Spirit of Rock N Roll?”

“No. But I’ll do. Doing shit at 12:23 a.m., you take what you can get. I’m not ‘the’ spirit, but I’m ‘a’ spirit. Don’t I smell like teen spirit or something?”

Kay sniffs. “I guess so.”

“Man, death sucks. I wish I could kill myself…but where’m I gonna go?” he says with a shrug. “I gotta find a better way, a better way. I miss the comfort of being sad.”

“I smell a lawsuit. Courtney Love’s so gonna sue BOB for all this lyrical theft.”

“That bitch still alive? I figured she’d of died of terminal ugliness. Man, if I wasn’t so fucked up on heroin, I would’ve never married her. Ah well. All apologies. To me. So, why’d you bring me back from hell?”

“Well…since you always wrote songs, I want you to go around making people sing.”

“What, like that Buff-”

“No. Totally original. This will be groundbreaking promo, stuff. But I want you in your songs to reveal everyone’s dark secrets. Y’know, artsy.”

“The finest day I ever had was when I learned to cry I’m a man….what the hell’m I tryin’ to say?”

“I have no idea. Will you do it?”

“Whatever. That poser suicidal freak Eddie Vedder live around here? Like for him to meet my trusty shotgun.”

“No. I only want your spirit to make Sarah, Xamfir, Styles, me, and maybe Little Good sing.”

“I didn’t see Little Good in the credits. Maybe you can summon Sid Vicious for him, with them both being English and all.”

“Oh, OK. Well, we’ll see how this goes before we”

“Do you have any heroin?”


“Nothing. I was just mmm nnnnn mmm nnnnn.”

“Why are you mumbling? Isn’t that a living thing?”

“Man, you are one annoying bitch. I got the power of hell at my fingertips. I changed the landscape of music. I can’t let you smother me. I don’t regret a thing. Every angry teenager worshipped me and blasted my badly produced music. I became the biggest rock star in the world and it sucked! I hated myself and wanted to die! Yeeaaah yeah. Yeeaaaaahhhhhhh yeahhhh! YEAAAHHHH.”

“Sorry! Listen. It’s like your lyric says. Hate your enemies. Save your friends. Find your place. Speak the truth. That’s what this promo is all about.”

Kurt sighs. After all, he got his Leonard Cohen afterworld. “I haven’t written any new material for a long time, red. Hmm. Your hair color is kind of like the chunks of my head that had to be scraped off the wall. Fine. Let’s do this. I’m ready for the well, whatever, nevermind.”


Sarah is on patrol in the backyards of Cloudydale. But the rings are empty tonight. Even the houses are dark.

But suddenly, she has background music. Loud, punkish, rock music. It’s time to hear Sarah’s most deepest secrets revealed thru music….and Kurt Cobain.

I’ve got one nasty addiction
And this ain’t no work of fiction
It’s the attention of everyone I crave
It’s the reason I continue to slave
To the cheers of crowds everywhere I go
How far it’ll make me go, I don’t know
I’m the one who won’t job to anyone
The world needs only two things…
Heroin and a heroine!!!
Yeaahhh, yeahhhh
I can’t win forever, what happens then?
I’ll have to grab myself a pen
And write a suicide note for fun
Then blow out my brains with a gun
I’m the one who won’t job to anyone
The world needs heroin and a heroine!


“Thanks for coming,” Sarah says as the gang takes seats, per usual, in Sarah’s living room. “So, any jobbers to research?”

“No,” Styles says. “It’s rather odd. It’s like they’ve all, gone. There have been rumors about a jobber organization, or, clique forming.”

“In addition to BOB?” Sarah asks.

“No, within BOB.”

“Wow, hope they’ll all fit,” Xamfir says. He pulls out a hypodermic needle from his shirt pocket and uses it like a toothpick to dislodge a morsel of Chinese food. He licks it off the end and pokes his tongue in the process. “Oww.”

“Say, did anyone else…” Sarah starts.

“What?” Styles asks.

“Burst into song?”

In unison, everyone starts blabbering about their rage-filled outbursts to music. Of course, it’s all indecipherable. Until Styles asks what Sarah sang about.

“Oh, you know. Heroin. Suicide. The usual.”

“You usually think, er, sing about heroin?” Kay asks.


Kay raises her eyebrows. “OK.”

“What’d you sing about?”

“How I hate, uh, cows.”

Xamfir gasps. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” Kay responds. “I titled it ‘Milk It 2002.’ But it was an ironic title, because I ended up, well, that’s not important I guess,” she says using her index and middle finger to make a scissor cutting motion. Xamfir and Styles gasp.

“Well, I also called mine ‘Milk It 2002,’ but for a different reason. I like udders on a chick. So sexy.”

“Hmm. What about you Styles,” Sarah asks.

Some background noise. Then some pounding drums and bass join the mix. Styles jumps up onto the coffee table and then dives through the front window. Then he starts to scream.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God
Yeah, this is EXTREME!!!
I’m a shadow of what I used to be!!!
I’m a shadow of what I used to beeeeeeh!
I hate whoever’s writing meeeeee yeah!

Styles runs around to another window, charges, then jumps through the window. He’s a bloody mess and glass is everywhere.

Give me back my alcohol, give me back my alcohol
I’m more fun to listen to when you’re drunk, I know!
Oh my God, my characters is as stale as Mexican seafood
I’m about to have an aneurysm
Oh my gaw-hawd, this music sucks, yeeaahhhh!
I’m a shadow of what I used to be!!!
I’ll never be as good as Joey!!!
I should O.D. on heroin and kill myself-hah

A new song begins to play. Sarah grabs Styles and looks him in the eye.

I need you Styles, don’t kill yourself
If you kill yourself, I’ll kill myself
Man does my stomach hurt
This song’s over, I’m bored

Sarah heads to the door.

“Where are you going?” Kay asks, all worried-like.

“Somewhere not here.”


Kay follows Sarah. First stop: a hospital.

“What could she be doing?”

Kay follows about 20 feet behind. Sarah goes into a door marked DRUG ADDICTS KEEP OUT! Kay runs in after Sarah. In there, pills, liquids, powders, needles, condoms, a vending machine full of munchies. Sarah is at the check out counter of the drug store. She’s got a needle, one of those rubber things to get the veins up and heroin! What the hell kind of hospital is this?

“A profitable one,” Sarah says. She looks back at Kay. “What, we can have Kurt Cobain, but not an actual drug store? Please.”

Sarah heads out.


Next stop: the gun store. Kay gets horrified and screams out for Sarah. She runs to the door and runs inside. Shotguns. Uzis. Handguns. Bazookas. Cannons. Water guns. This store’s got it all. Sarah is paying already. Man, she moves fast. She’s buying a holster. No gun.


“Gotta have a place for my bananas.”


Last stop: underneath a bridge. No tarp. No trapped animals. It’s all good. Except for the part where Kay pleads with Sarah not to do the heroin.

“Oh come on, this’ll be my last shot, pardon the pun.”

“Kurt! Get out of her! I didn’t bring you back so you could get high!”


“No. Take me. Sarah’s got a huge title match. I won’t let her die.” Kay seems shocked to hear that come out of her mouth.

“Really? Sure you don’t want me to sing you a song first?”

“No. This isn’t at all what I wanted. I wanted Sarah to reveal her fears. But she’s afraid of losing a match. It won’t happen for a long time, but still. I thought she’d reveal that she hates me and Xamfir. Then we could leave this sidekick B-team stuff and be stars.”

“Don’t you get it Kay? As long as you’re in BOB, none of you will be stars. I bet you’re just afraid…oh…I can find out actually.”

Kurt leaps from Sarah’s body to Kay’s.

“Man, I need a cigarette,” Sarah says. “That was good, whatever it was.”

Kurt eyes the heroin. He shoves Sarah to the ground and prepares her arm with the rubber thing.

“Kay!” Sarah says.

“What?” Kay/Kurt answers.

“Cobain! I should’ve known. Get out of my best friend’s body. She’s a lesbian! For God’s sake. Her body can’t handle that amount of heroin. It’d kill her!”

Music begins to play. For Kay.

I’d rather be dead than to not….
Have you!!!
I want to be your ice cream cone
Your all you can eat buffet
I want you to make me
Come as you are!
Can you feel my love buzz?
Suck my heart-shaped box
Drink my pennyroyal tea
RAPE ME!!!!!

Sarah’s jaw drops. Kay brings the needle to her vein. But Sarah demands Kurt take her body.

He does. Kurt uses Sarah’s body to pick up the needle.


Kurt sighs.

“Take me. How can I live and work with Sarah after that. She must hate me.”

Kurt changes bodies again.

“Hey, I can take being in a heroin coma and STILL beat Billy Polar, trust me.”

Kurt changes bodies again. Kay makes an odd noise as Kurt exits this time.

“Wait. Do that again Kurt.”

Kurt sighs. He goes from Sarah back to Kay and then back to Sarah. Both girls moan during his exits and entrances.

“AGAIN!” both cry out.

“What? I’d like to have some heroin if you don’t mind!”

“Once more. PLEEEEASE? I bought all your records, which contributes to your kid’s college fund,” Kay says.

“AHHHH. Screw this.”

Kurt leaves Sarah’s body and walks down to a wino. He enters the man’s body and goes back toward the girls. He angrily pulls the rubber off of Kay’s arm and picks up the dirty needle. He inserts the needle into his arm, killing his host and once again freeing himself from this depressing world.


Well, it was SUPPOSED to be groundbreaking.

Good god, what happened?

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Life is all about Death, Urine and porno

February 8th, 2002
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“Death? Death? How in the hell am I going to wrestle Death!” Sarah asked Styles, hands outstretched.

Cue that promo theme music (Garbage’s “Temptation Waits”) and opening credits. This promos stars Sarah…..Kay Fabe…….Xamfir…..and Styles.


We open up with Jenna Jameson staring at the camera, eyes full of hunger. She is on hands and knees. She is wearing only a black pair of pants, but the kind with suspenders attached. So the suspenders hide her sweet little

“Whoa, whoa. Can we focus on wrestling?” Sarah asks.

“Wait. This is the part where I put the entire Super Bowl trophy up her ass,” Xamfir says. “She didn’t think it would fit. But man, is there tons of room. Everywhere. I think she’s got enough room in her HEY NOW to fit my entire body. She’s like a sexual dimension or something. She is Planet Jenna, thus the title. Working title.”

“Oh my God! Her HEY NOW is like a clown car!”

Kay looks around at everyone. “OK, maybe I’m missing something. But why does everyone keep saying HEY NOW in reference to Jenna’s HEY NOW.”

“You just did it too,” Sarah says. “Can we please start this promo now?”

“Sure, what’s it about?” Xamfir asks.

“Death and Urine.”

“Two things you can count on in life. Death and Urine,” Xamfir says.

“OHHH. OHHHHH. OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YEAHHH,” Jenna says as the Super Bowl trophy splits the uprights. All eyes return back to the TV screen in Sarah’s living room. That’s where the promo is taking place.

“Look,” Sarah says. “I don’t ask for much from you guys, but we need to trash talk our opponents so we have a chance at winning. The BigBoss, LilBoss and NameLess Boss are all going to be playing with themselves. I don’t know if that’s a good or not for our chances in the six man. Maybe if…hey, can we bribe the bosses with porno stars?”

“What?” Kay asks. “There’s only one way to win a match. Having the intestinal fortitude. Having a huge heart, because the heart is the biggest organ in your body. It’s through getting a second wind and that adrenaline rush just when everyone thinks you’ve hit rock bottom. And if all that doesn’t work, I’ll summon a wrestler’s spirit and he’ll lead us to victory in my body.”

“Excuse me.” Styles heads to the bathroom.

“If we’re not careful, WE’LL be spirits. Hello, Death?”

The phone rings. Sarah goes to it.


“You called?” Death answers.

Sarah slams the phone down.

There’s a knock at the door. Sarah groans, but goes to the door.

It’s Mr. E!

Mr. E picks up Sarah and throws her over her couch!

Everyone laughs. Because it’s so FUNNY!


Kay Fabe LAUGHS!

Xamfir LAUGHS!

Jenna Jameson would laugh, but she’s too busy licking love juice off the Super Bowl trophy. And she’s on tape.

Sarah sits up and LAUGHS!

Styles, pants around his ankles, opens the bathroom door a crack. He CHUCKLES!

Sarah gets up. “I kick the ass of fools like you.”

With that, Sarah pulls a banana out from her waistline and puts the barrel of the 9 (inches) to his forehead. “Time to bust a cap.”

She drops the banana and leg sweeps Mr. E. She grabs his leg and


“A knee cap, that is.”

Sarah throws Mr. E out of her house.

“These fight scenes are so weak nowadays. What happened to us? We used to always get into cool fights with cool background music. Now I kick everyone’s ass in two seconds. Man, I’m ready for a good fight. Maybe Death is just what I need. I’ll kick Death’s ass. Kay, you take care of Urine. You did it before. And Xamfir, Little Good is yours. But leave some of peroxide boy for me.”

Styles flushes and comes out. “What about The Geek? He’s done something sacrijobberous.”

“The Geek is harmless. As a matter of fact, I think he’s kind of cute.”

“Wow, did it just get incredibly vomit-inducing in here?” Xamfir asks.

“Come on. It’s obvious what he’s up to. So The Geek, listen up and listen good. We are going to be together soon. In the ring. Your hands will get the chance to run all over my body. Why? Not because we’re going to wrestle. Screw that. You know I can kick your ass. But I need a good man whore. A slave to do my bidding.”

“Hello?” Xamfir says. “Open your eyes. Man whore, right here.”

“No, Xamfir, I want The Geek. I want him to take me into his arms, caress my back, my ass, my legs, my breasts, my face, ever so gently. And I want to run my tongue ever so lightly from his forehead down to his toes….and everywhere in between. So The Geek, you meet me in the ring at your earliest convenience. We’ll forget ALL about that silly little mistake you made. And believe me, I’m flattered. I know you’re in love with me. It’s OK. I have deep feelings for you as well. And I’d like to show you just how deep my feelings are.”

“Deep?” Kay asks.

“Deep,” Sarah says. “BYOB. Bring your own bananas. And I’ll show you things you’ve only dreamed about. And for one night, you can call me Sarah The Virginity Slayer. Now, onto business. Kay, set up the match. Focus on Urine.”

“OK,” Kay says. “Urine, I’ve already given you the thrashing of a lifetime. I beat you with my broomstick. I beat you until you were in a puddle of peepee. Though I guess you probably like that. But, you are evil. And good always overcomes evil.”

[Meanwhile, Urine, who ain’t no genius, laughs at the lack of logic. Let’s see:

A. Kay is a witch.

B. Kay is a lesbian.

C. Kay beats people with a broomstick.

D. Kay channels dead wrestlers.

Evil? Kay calling herself good is like Urine calling XXXtreme Machine a good typist.]

Xamfir must address Little Good next. And does.

“Well, we’re gonna hook up and you’re gonna learn that I put the fear in Xamfir!”

[Meanwhile, Little Good, if he were in this promo, and not just in brackets, would point out that his name is not spelled Xamfear, thus the only thing in his name is ‘fir.’ Which sounds like fur, which is like what Xamfir’s mother’s got in her special place, which Little Good likes to visit….quite often.]

Sarah’s turn.

“Death, you may not be a jobber. As a matter of fact, we’ve got a lot in common. People lay down for us everywhere we go. For me, it’s jobbers. For you, it’s dead humans.”

Kay chimes in: “It’s the immovable object against the unstoppable force!”

“Yeah,” Sarah says in her oh-so-unsubtle sarcastic way. “But I’m gonna take that scythe….shine it up real nice…..and while you’re waiting for me to stick it up your bony ass, I’ll whack your head off like I’m playing T-ball. And Death will lay down for me. I don’t lay down for ANYBODY.”

“Not even guys,” Kay says. “She’s waiting for The Geek.”

Sarah almost laughs, but, oh wait, she coughs. That wasn’t a laugh.

Or was it?


[Meanwhile, Death thinks of a good comeback. Death wants to call her gay or a fag, but for some reason, Death doesn’t think that’ll work against a chick. Death is no doubt thinking how women don’t belong in a man’s sport.]

Who will win in a fight between she who slays wrestlers and Death who slays everyone…..

Oh wait, it’s BOB. There’ll be a screw job.

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Hardcore Occult Sports Entertainment: Live on Channel 1 Publick Axxess

January 29th, 2002
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“Blasted to Death” by Satan’s Plastic Surgeons, Cloudydale’s resident garage death metal band, begins playing, and with it, come some hardcore visuals. A fireball. Bloody faces. Graveyards. Candles. Knives. Inverted crosses. Then a bunch of guys brawling inside a darkened wrestling ring surrounded by fire. And after 45 seconds of blast beats, speeding guitars and grinding noise, we have darkness.

Then blood red light. We open up in the spacious Cloudydale High School gymnasium. The camera pans the bleachers, which hold about 100 oddly sedate wrestling fans. Many dressed in black, some with painted faces, some with colored hair, such as that dude with the blood red hair. Not one hot chick to be seen. It’s mostly guys. A wrestling ring is set up in front of the bleachers. It has black ropes and the canvas is black.

Two figures get in the ring.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Haardcore Occult Sporrrts EntertaiiiiiiinMENT!” Styles belts out.

The crowd claps apathetically, or pathetically. Both really.

“I’m Styles.”

The other figure grabs the mic. “And my, my, my….It is I, Sarah, if Satan and I should cross paths, I’ll bend that jobber in two and stick his horns up his ass, for I am the chosen one, I’m here to stay, and you losers are looking at one hot POA you’re never gonna lay…..’The Jobber Slayer.'”

The crowd boos and jeers her: “Satan will rape you. All three inputs! And he’l make more and rape those too!”; “The Ancient Ones will tear your soul apart”; and “God is dead, you will soon join him in Hell!” are among those heard.

Sarah looks around at the angry teenage….whatever they are. “Man, who’da thought I’d be a heel for trashing the devil? Well, then our first guest certainly will be an unpopular figure. Please welcome, all the way from Heaven, Jesus…..Christ!”

Sarah points to the door. All the fans get to their feet. Someone raises a Jesus Was A Crybaby sign.

No theme music.

The gym is silent.


“Psyche!” Sarah yells.

The fans boo. Someone throws a rock at her. Sarah instinctively kicks the rock away with her right foot with a graceful spin kick.

“I’ll kick ALL your asses!” Sarah says shaking her fist at the bleachers.

“We’re not here for that,” Styles says taking the mic back. “We’re here for HOSE.”

The fans are still booing Sarah. She flips off the crowd.

“Please welcome, our REAL first guest, the top HO in the business, the Evil Mastermind!”

Lights go out.

It’s dark.

The crowd pulls out lighters. Someone lights up a doobie, trying to get stoned under the cover of evil, Satanic, blackness. Dude.

Lights, the red ones, come back on. Mysteriously, there is a man, er, boy, in the ring. The Evil Mastermind stands there. Not a day over 16. Long black hair, wearing and evil cloak that kind of looks like a raincoat. He has a replica title over his shoulder.

TEM speaketh: “Am I evil?” he says flatly, hailing from Monotone City. “Yes I am.” He pauses. “Am I evil?” He pauses. “I am man.” He pauses. “Yes I am.”

Lights out.

Eventually, when somebody turns on the lights switch, the lights magically come back on.

“Ripping off lyrics is an interview? What the hell?” Sarah asks. “He couldn’t make popcorn pop, forget about wrestling fans.”

[Backstage. (The boys locker room)]

Shot711 has some comments to make about the interview we’ve just heard from TEM.

711: Tonight, I win the title. I’ve been shot 50 times. I’ve had plenty of near death experiences. I’m shot at 7-11. I’m Shot711. And I’m shot 24-7.”


MESSAGE: Stealing cable is a crime. Especially if it’s to watch this channel. Please, don’t steal cable. Or you’ll pay. One way or another.


Announcers get face time at ringside.

“Tonight, fans, it’s going to be EXXX, I mean, HARDCORE! In our main event, the HOSE title will be on the line!”

“Yes. Mr. Charisma from the last segment out here will face a guy named Shot711. I’ve heard nothing but bad things about both these guys. If sucking were an Olympic sport, these two would bring home gold. It’s true, it’s true.”

“But now fans-”

“Being a little presumptous there Styles. The whole plural thing.”

“….Let’s head to the ring.”

[An oddly familiar riff plays, just barely audible from a boombox on the gym floor. Then it is butchered, death metal style.

“Ohhhh, I’m a werewolf baybeeee
So why don’t you kill meeeee.
Ohh, I’m gonna rip your throat
I’m a werewolf baybeeee
Why don’t you kill meeeee]

Is gurgled out. That brings out Barker. Barker is 14.

“Legend has it, he was bitten by a werewolf. Wait till you see the punchline,” Sarah says.

“What’s that?” Styles asks. “Oh my God! You’re not going to!”

“Watch me!”

[Meanwhile, backstage (the girls locker room) Kay Fabe arrives! But since Sarah and Styles don’t have monitors, they don’t see it. Kay clutches a broomstick. She’s decked out in black and it wearing a pointy black hat.

“At last, I belong.”]

Back to the gym. There is a pause as a “druid” changes cassette tapes. Yes, they don’t even have a CD player. He presses play, but it’s the wrong song.

“Oh my God!” Styles says. “This is embarrassing!”

“Just knowing I’m going to kick all their asses in the end makes me smile. On the inside of course. Because I really am an emotionless robot,” Sarah says.

Then, the theme from the movie “Poltergeist” begins playing. Complete with an opening “They’re here!” from that dead girl.

“Man, just like the WWF! I’m impressed,” Sarah says. “Catchphrase, theme song, it’s all, crap. How about some originality?”

A gym door opens with a crash, but nobody comes through the open door. Or so it would seem.

“You’re kidding. A poltergeist?”

“The Poltergeist,” Styles corrects.

“What are his stats?”

“Unknown. He’s from the Other Side. That’s all we know about him. Or her. If it even is a he or she.”

“Well, if it doesn’t have the hardware…it very well can’t have sex, or be a sex.”

A buzzer, the kind used at basketball games, sounds three times to signal the start of the match.

“Geez, no Satanic bell tolling? What?”

“Barker, who is in his, well, meager human form, since there is no full moon tonight, begins circling his invisible adversary. This should highlight some very contrasting styles.”

“Oh yeah,” Sarah says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Hey, let’s have some fun.”

Sarah stands up. She picks up a big black piece of cardboard. “Hey Barker!” Sarah turns the cardboard around.

The moon.


Barker howls and collapses to hands and knees. His skinny teenage frame suddenly looks like it has been invaded by steroids. He splits out of his wrestling gear and is naked.

Completely naked.

Sarah continues to hold up the photo of the full moon. But she sits down and actually cracks a smile.

The punchline?

“Barker hasn’t hit puberty yet.”

Barker has NO body hair.

“How ironic.”

“And Poltergeist takes the opportunity to, uh, attack Barker. Barker’s head is going left and right, left and right, as if he’s being punched. And HARD!”

“You said hard,” Sarah says.

“Barker is being pummeled.”

“I can’t belive we can have full frontal nudity in HOSE.”

“It is Public Access.”

“Renamed Pubic Access.”



“Barker is flipped over.”

“He better hope The Poltergeist isn’t come ci, come ca.”

“But Barker comes back.”

“Man, are you dirty Styles. Come?”

“You said come twice before me! Why are you so dirty tonight?”

“I’m a dirty girl,” she says in a baby voice.

“A headlock! Oh my God!”

“Rest spots? In HOSE! We want blood!”

“Uh oh. Barker just tossed Poltergeist outside.”

“My arms are tired.”

Barker roars. Sarah puts down the moon.

Barker reverts.

Barker looks down at himself. Both hands quickly cover up his shame area.

“And he should be ashamed,” Sarah says. “Do you think all the ladies really believe it’s not the size, but how you use it?”

“That’s not true? Err, oh my GOD! Barker just hit a fan! He’s stealing his pants!”

“Theft and assault? This is hardcore?” Sarah asks.

“Barker has the pants on. OH MY GOD!”

“Zipper! Zipper! Zipper! The zipper has got his head in a world of hurt!”

“Oh, Barker gets himself free,” Styles says.

Barker gets a chair.

“I’m guessing Barker’s zipper had a LOT of bite,” Sarah says.

“Oh, what a shot! Barker just nailed the Poltergeist with a thunderous chair shot. I think. Barker goes back into the ring, triumphant. He holds the chair high. The fans boo.”

“Barker is the face after all,” Sarah says.

The ref starts the count.






“And Poltergeist just gets back in in time and hits Barker with a low blow.”

“What’s up with the sixes?”

“Wrestlers get a 6-count outside.”

“How do you win?”

“A 666, instead of a 123.”

“Wow. Pathetic much?”

“Poltergeist with a rollup! 6….6….No! Small package!”

“No kidding,” Sarah says, no doubt referring to Barker.

“6…..6……6, no!”

Sarah holds up the moon.

Barker changes. Again. He’s naked, again. Barker roars and charges, but then Sarah drops the sign and he realizes he’s naked. Again.

“Poltergeist with a huge….MOVE! Was that a hudanconrana?”

“I wasn’t looking at that. Sorry. I was mesmerized by, something else during that move.”

“Pin! But Barker reverses! 6! 6! 6!!! Barker upsets Poltergeist!”

“How can you tell? Yeah, the ref’s raising his hand, but still….”

[Backstage, Kay Fabe stands over the bodies of Evil Mastermind, Shot711, Dr. Butcher and Satanus the Impaler. All unconscious. Kay drops her broomstick and does the walk. You know the one. The main event shuffle.]

“Golden Showers” by the Mentors begins playing, bringing out a guy NOBODY likes, Urine! He just flat out sucks.

“Man, didn’t this guy get jobbed out of every federation on Hypermart and Angelfire?” Sarah asks.

“He has quite a, shall we say, pathetic history.”

“We shall. And that’s putting it nicely.”

Urine has a mic. He puts it to his mouth and the mic hits his teeth with a thud.

“Even the mic hates Urine!”

The mic falls to the canvas. Urine gets down on his knees and strangles the mic.

“Demon, be gone!”

“The only demon in that mic probably left after smelling his urine breath,” Sarah says.

The fans boo. And chant: “Satan kill Urine! Satan kill Urine! Master take Urine!”

“Shut up, you suck!” Urine yells. “The Ancient Guys won’t take me til I’m done. I steal dead bodies. Then I have sex with them and pee all over them!”

Fans: “Shut up!”

“No, you shut up! I’m great, you suck!”

Fans: “Go to Heaven!” Clap, clap, clapclapclap.

“May Satan have mercy on you!”

The fans boo. A butcher knife flies past Urine’s head.


“So close. Damnit!” Sarah says.

“You threw that?”

“I plead the fifth. I need a banana. I’ll be back.”

Sarah leaves to visit the cafeteria. Once out the doors, the doors on the opposite side of the gym crash open.

“What the hell?” Styles yells. “It’s Kay Fabe! Kay Fabe has broken into HOSE!”

Kay walks, zombie-like, to the ring. She clutches a broomstick like a sword. Urine stares at her, paralyzed. Kay gets in the ring.

“Sarah! We need you! Where are you?” Styles asks.

[Cafeteria. Refrigerator. Bananas. She picks one and heads back to the gym.]

Kay bludgeons Urine with a broomstick. Until he’s an unconscious mess. A puddle of smelly wetness forms on the canvas near his crotch. Kay grabs the mic. Then she smells it and drops it. Instead, she decides to talk really loud.

“Styles! Where is Sarah?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t make me come out there.”

The gym door opens.

Kay turns.

Sarah notices Kay is here.

“I’m going to make a bigger mess of you than I did The Poltergeist,” Kay says.

“Why?” Sarah asks, walking to the ring.

“Because I’m nothing to you anymore.”

“Yes you are.”

“What, supporting material?”

Sarah gets in the ring. “Kay, you’re my best friend in the whole world. Ever since we first met way back in high school.

“The power has shifted. Now I’m ‘The Jobber Slayer.'”

“No you’re not.”

Who took out the entire HOSE roster? HOSErs are laying everywhere. At my hands!”

“Big deal. You beat up teenagers. Probably was the thrill of their lives. I’m not going to fight you Kay.”

“Good.” She raises the broomstick.

“I love you Kay. Just remember that as you crack my skull.”

She starts the swing.

And pauses.

Starts the swing.

And stops just short of Sarah’s forehead.

Kay and Sarah stare at each other.

The fans encourage Kay to hit Sarah. “Blood, blood, blood, blood!”

Sarah grabs the stick and softly shoves it aside. Sarah approaches Kay slowly. Sarah takes off Kay’s witch hat and drops it on the canvas. Sarah runs a hand through Kay’s beautiful red hair.

“Oh, my,” Styles says, loosening his tie and trying to unbuckle his belt.

The girls look deep into each others eyes. Their lips inch and inch closer together.

A crash at the gym doors.

“Bloody hell!”

“Little Good! Little Good! Little Good!” Styles belts out. “Oh my God!”

Little Good walks to the ring. He looks at the girls.

“What a happy little scene. My, my, my. I should have known you couldn’t beat up the Slayer. No balls.”

“Well, duh,” Kay says.

“Fine. I’m gonna get you Slayer. Some day. Some way. Well, I’ll be,” he says looking over their heads. Kay and Sarah turn around.


Little Good crashes through the doors.

“Damn. What a little good bastard,” Kay says.

“Well, for Styles, this complete waste of time ends happily. Every HOSEr is hurt and this fed is dead! Good night, and rot in HELL!”

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Sick of repeats

January 25th, 2002
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[A basement.]

A big BOB banner is on one wall. A washing machine and dryer are against another wall. In front of the third wall is a TV camera, some chairs and video equipment. On the fourth wall is the door.

[It’s Styles’ basement.]

Styles opens the door and is followed in by Swiss Army Champion Sarah “The Jobber Slayer.”

“I just needed to talk to you,” Styles says.

They take seats on steel folding chairs.

“No problemo. What’s up?” Sarah asks.

“I think Xamfir and Kay, well, may be feeling, left out. By you.”

“Bummer. But Styles, you’ve got to understand…” she looks at the title on her shoulder. “It’s my first time being with a title. That’s huge for me. I’m a woman in a man’s business. Granted, ‘man’ might be a little strong for BOB, but still…”

“The jobber activity is getting worse here. A psychotic scotter, a talking skateboard, a boy band, a geek, fallen angels, Billy Polar!”

“Yeah, that is bad. We need Kay and Xamfir on board. They’re great distractions. Pretty good supporting material too.”

[Meanwhile, in parts unknown (in Cloudydale, most likely, since she lives there), Kay Fabe puts a broomstick through her TV set.]

[Meanwhile, elsewhere, Xamfir pisses on his TV set. Then he goes to get a sponge and paper towels to clean up the mess.]

“But enough about them. There’s NAGAM to discuss. You’re coming to my world,” Styles says.

“Oh my God!”

“I know! So, I’ve arranged for us to attend one of the hardcore backyard feds in town and videotape it to provide commentary.”


“I said, I’ve arranged for us-”


“Well, we’ll film the opening here and then the show will air on Channel 1 public access sometime around 4:30 p.m. Monday. Or Tuesday.”

“Good, that gives me the weekend to write results.”

“What did you say?” Styles asks perplexed.

“Nothing,” Sarah says innocently. “Last thing I said was ‘when.’ Why?”

“You said that gives you the weekend to, um, WRITE results. Why would you have to WRITE results when we’ll be TAPING a show?

“No I didn’t!”

“Read up five lines.

“Huh…I don’t remember saying it. If Kay Fabe were here, a comment like that never would have happened.

[Kay, who had repaired her TV through the power of witchcraft, plunges the broomstick through it for a second time.]

“This whole conversation never would have happened. But since it did, yes, we will go ‘tape’ the ‘show’ to be ‘broadcast’ on ‘Channel 1.’

“Now it’s time for you to shine.”

“Which fed is it?”

“A new group in Cloudydale. It’s called Hardcore Occult Sports Entertainment.”


“Uh, yes. Should be entertaining. As long as you’re there.”

“You know what will have to happen after the show?”

“Of course.”

“OK. Do I play the heel or face announcer?”

[Kay screams. Yes, her TV is, well, was, fixed again.]

“Well, I’m the commentator. You’re the heelish type I guess.”

“But I’m so pretty. I’ll play a tweener.”

[Though her TV is not fixed, through some black force, she now hears every word Sarah says. Kay grabs her heart. Is it breaking?

“No, not getting rid of me that easy. Time for a surprise guest at HOSE.”]


It’s a “Show Full of HOSE!” Taped on Channel 1, Cloudydale Publick Axxess. Airing sometime soon. Stay tuned!

Upcoming backyard fed shows on Channel 1:
Saturday: Interspecies Grapplin’ Federation.
Sunday: Main Event Bad-@ss Babies
Monday: Hardcore Occult Sports Entertainment
Tuesday: TBA
Wednesday: Pathetic Poser Federation
Thursday: Soap Opera Wrestling: Starring Ladders, Chairs and Tables
Friday: Pillowfight Championship Wrestling

Volunteers needed:
Call Uncle Eric at (555) 555-5555.
Plastic Championship Wrestling is HIRING!!! PCW: It’s FAKE!

Need a WRESTLING ring? Send $8,000 to:
3 Laydown Drive
Cloudydale, CT 00000.

HOSE needs writers.
Send resumes to Channel 1, care of HOSE.
(Vince Russo need not apply.)

Coke addiction.
Maybe it’s time to start.
See what everyone’s talking about,
Coke. It dulls the pain of life.


rant , , , , , , ,


January 16th, 2002
Comments Off on Bitchcraft

[How did Sarah “The Jobber Slayer” come to be? Fair question. If you care, the BOBRP Channel (known affectionately as the ‘Burp’ channel) is going to be showing Sarah, from the beginning. All the great promos (including the early Buffy “The Jobber Slayer” promos, before the whole lawsuit thing) that made Sarah into a cult phenomenon and led her to BOB. Tonight, we show RP 3. This RP is called “Bitchcraft.”]

“First crazed diaper men, now a group of skinny bitches. Can it BE any more fun here in Cloudydale?” Buffy asked.

Cloudydale High School. The gymnasium. Afternoon. Cheerleader practice. Plenty of teenage girls in short skirts stretching and jumping. Buffy Summers entered the gymnasium with Kay Fabe and Richard Hurtz behind her. Richard looked around in amazement at all the poon. Not long there, when….

“Buffy,” Connie greeted.

“Connie,” Buffy returned.

“What brings you here?”

“Blind much,” Buffy asks, pointing out the gray and blue cheerleading uniform she’s wearing.

“Listen Buffy, you may have been a bad-ass bitch up in Greenwich, but we play by different rules down here. My rules. I am the game, and you don’t want to play me.”

“I do,” Richard says. “Oh sorry, did you say play you, or play WITH you?”

“Not even if you were the last man on earth and I had Buffy’s body,” Connie says before walking away.

The Shaggy Gang get to steppin’ again, but only manage a few steps before Kay falls down. Buffy and Richard ask if she’s okay and offer to help her up. Kay realizes she tripped over a broom.

“I’m down, but not broken,” she says. She picks up the broom and looks at it. She slides her hands up and down the smooth, hard, wood. She likes the feel of it. She wonders if….

“Hey, gimme that,” the Evil Janitor Man demanded.

“I don’t want to. I like it,” Kay told him.

He grabs the base end and tries to wrestle it from her. She tugs on it. He ends up pulling the broom end against his crotch and pulls hard. She pulls back. If someone wanted to notice this, this would be a borderline pornographic visual, with the broom playing the part of pubic hair, and the stick, well, figure it out jerkass. The tug of war continued until a girl who has yet to be introduced intervened. She pulled the broom easily from Kay’s grasp. The broom sagged to the floor, still in the hands of its owner, Evil Janitor Man.

“Ana?” Kay asks the stranger, who is also dressed in the cheerleader uniform.

“Hi Kay. Dad, you weren’t giving my friend a hard time, were you?”

“Yes. She touched my broom. My BROOM! This is my broom! You keep your hands off it, ya hear?” He walks away, giving Kay and Ana the chance to talk. Since they are minor characters, we’ll ignore their convo and move along.

Dance music begins to play and a cheerleader takes center floor. She begins to do her thing, when suddenly, she slips and falls heels over head. She ends up stuck on the floor, Bugs Bunny style, with her legs over her head.

“She’s hurt!” Kay yells.

“Hey Sherlock, here’s some shit for you,” Connie yells at Kay. “Since you obviously have none.”

Buffy runs over to the girl. She notices a wet spot on the floor. A wet spot?

“Did you get nervous and slip on your own pee?” Buffy asks.

“No. Check my panties. They’re dry.”

Buffy feels the girl’s crotch. And ass. Gotta be thorough. “I sense trouble. You been to a doctor lately?”
“No, why?”

“I think you’re hurt. You should go.”

“Sky blue still? I can’t move! I think my back is broken. Or stuck or something.”

Richard and Kay show up behind Buffy.

“Don’t move her,” Richard cautions. He then excuses himself. He walks under the bleachers. There is a bang from underneath there, as if he just dropped down to his knees. Figure out the next paragraph for yourself.


Next day.

At Buffy’s house, Buffy bumps into her mom in the kitchen. She is making toast and eggs. They say hello before Buffy’s mom starts to make conversation.

“I think it’s good you’re getting back into cheerleading. I think it’ll keep you from burning down the school. I’d like to encourage you not to burn down that school. It’s good not to get expelled more than two times a year.”

Buffy runs away.

“I SO suck at parenting,” Buffy’s mom says.


After yesterday’s fiasco, they decided to postpone the remainder of the tryouts. So they continued today. Kay had a run in with Ana, then went to tell Buffy about it.

“I think something’s up with Ana.”

“Really, why?” Buffy asked.

“I don’t know for sure. But, you know how yesterday she really didn’t care about cheerleading? Well, today she does. She’s really excited about it. She also has a five o’clock shadow, smells like the school restrooms and grew a few inches overnight.”

“Eh, probably just drugs,” Buffy shrugs.


Later. The main office. Connie is sitting in the waiting area, still dressed in her cheerleading outfit. She keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs. Eventually, a secretary tells her to go into the assistant principal’s office.

“Fine. Service here sucks, by the way.”

She passed by the principal’s office, which has the name Josh Wheaton, written on it in gold. She goes into the next office, the door is open. We don’t see a name on the door. She takes a seat in a chair which is aimed toward the right. The assistant principal’s desk is out of sight. The door remains open.

“Finally, Connie Kuntz has come back to the assistant principal’s office,” Connie announces.

“Cawnie, I’m givin’ you detention.”

“For what?”

“You punched anawther student owt during cheerleading practice.”

“Is that a crime? Well pardon me for wanting to be the best at yelling out letters. This is a school. We’re not just cheerleaders, we’re teaching people how to spell! And she wasn’t doing it good enough. I could be Vanna White in a couple of years if I get really good!”

“Stop tryin’ to bust my awnions. I’ve got awnions the size of grapefruits baby! You will respect the powahs that be and repawt to detention today.”

“Whatever,” she says putting her thumbs together to make a W with her index fingers extended.


In detention, Connie was alone. Suddenly, a man dressed in black leather entered the room, pushing a TV set on one of those TV/VCR school carts. He shut the lights off and popped in a tape.

“Oh no, not again.”

Play is pressed.


“Oh GOD, I’m blind!”

The Master chuckles.


Meanwhile, practice continues. Until…..dum dum dum….

“Oww!” the girl cheering beside ‘Ana’ yells out.

A broomstick falls to the floor.

“What happened?” Buffy asked.

“I don’t know. That broomstick, just, kind of, fell on her face,” ‘Ana’ says.

The injured girl spits out teeth. And a mouthful of blood. She has to go for emergency surgency, er, emergery surgery, you know…..

After practice ends, Buffy heads to the library. Kay and Richard are seated at a table. Styles is standing near them with a videotape in hand.

“With Connie being blind, Slut Bunny stuck in traction and Miss Toothless in medical hell, I think somebody is trying to sabotage the cheerleading squad. Something’s up.

Styles looks down at his pants. But luckily, Buffy misses the look and Kay begins to talk.

“Why would somebody want to hurt a bunch of beautiful girls who have horrible, bitchy attitudes and who will only date jocks? I just answered my own question, didn’t I?”

“That’s the thrill of living in Cloudydale. There’s a veritable cornucopia of, of baby men and evil janitors and, clowns to engage….” Styles looks around at Kay, Richard and Buffy’s faces. “Pardon me for finding the glass half full.”


Ana’s house.

There, Buffy and Styles knock on ze door. Zen zey ring ze doorbell. Eventually, zere is an answere.

It’s Ana! It’s Ana! It’s Ana! Ana answers the door!

“Oh my God!” Styles says in shock. “It’s the REAL Ana.”

“Come in,” Ana tells them. “I guess I’ve got to give you the low down.”

Inside, Buffy immediately notices pictures on the mantel. The photos are of Ana’s father. But it gets worse. He’s in wrestling gear! In numerous dated photos, all at least 15 or 20 years old.

“My dad wanted to relive his youth. So he started wearing a wig and a cheerleader outfit, impersonating me. His final goal was to get back into wrestling with all sorts of plastic surgery.” She puts her hands to her face and collapses to the floor, weeping.

Buffy and Styles look at her. They shrug and leave.


“I can’t believe Ana’s dad is a jobber,” Buffy says as she opens the gym door. Once the door is open, she notices that a basketball game has broken out. “Was this on the schedule, or did we just have a soap opera time warp? How old do I look Styles?”

The coach comes up to Buffy. “You’re late. You will never, EVER, cheer in this town agayne.” She’s from Canada, in case you didn’t notice the accent. Or dialect.

“No problemo,” she says, once she sees that ‘Ana’, a.k.a. Evil Janitor Man, is on the sidelines, cheering on the boys.

Buffy blows by the coach and runs up to EJM. With his back still turned, Buffy pulls the wig off his head! He gasps and turns around to see who has foiled his ingenious plan. He looks at the court, at the other girls and at the whopping five fans in the stands, feeling all eyes on him (even though none are) and runs away.


A hallway.

The janitor is contemplating which restroom to hide in.

Men? Or women. He rubbed his crotch, trying to remember which he was at the moment, but that moment of forgetfulness gave Buffy the chance to come up from behind him and whack him in the knee with a broomstick.

“Sweet irony, why! Why!”

“Life sucks. And so do you.”

“Who are you.”

“I, am the chosen one.”

The Shaggies meet around the fallen victim. Buffy seems a bit sad.

“You don’t need to be a cheerleader,” Kay says rubbing Buffy’s back in a comforting way. “Couldn’t you just be happy leading us? Cheerfully or otherwise?” Then her hand slips down to Buffy’s ass briefly for a different kind of comfort.

“I guess it’s just us then, the Shaggy Gang.”

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The Havoc

January 14th, 2002
Comments Off on The Havoc

[How did Sarah “The Jobber Slayer” come to be? Fair question. If you care, the BOBRP Channel (known affectionately as the ‘Burp’ channel) is going to be showing Sarah, from the beginning. All the great promos (including the early Buffy “The Jobber Slayer” promos, before the whole lawsuit thing) that made Sarah into a cult phenomenon and led her to BOB. Tonight, we show with RP 2. This RP is called “The Havoc.”]

Luckily, Buffy Summers’ mother didn’t own her own funeral home. Instead, they lived in a nice normal suburban house. You know the kind. A couple of stories, a cellar, an attic. Plenty of room. Also luckily, Buffy’s mom made plenty of money off others deaths. The funeral home she worked for was in Stamford. And Connecticut is one of the most expensive states to live in (in parts). But the whole point of this paragraph is that Buffy has a closet full of leather pants, sleeveless shirts and plenty of kick-ass boots. She threw on a leather jacket, to match her brown leather pants, over her white sleeveless shirt and pulled on her stylish, yet sensible boots, and was on her way.

She was dressed to kill. Or Slay. Whatever.

As she walked on the cool fall night, she realized she was being followed. She stopped and turned and wanted the suspense to end before it could begin.

“Show yourself,” she demanded.

He did. A guy WAY too good looking stepped from the shadows. A guy who needed to get into a car accident and have severe facial damage. Oh wait, he’s ugly at some angels. I mean, angles. He’s equal parts breathtaking and vomit-inducing. But it worked overall for him. It was like he was a good soul trapped in a tormented body or something.

“Is there a problem with me following you? Free street, free country. I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry. I don’t suck. I used to, but not anymore.” He looks her up and down. “I thought you’d be bigger,” he says while looking at her chest. “In the arms, I mean. And taller.”

“What do you want,” she asked.

“The same thing you do.”

“Okay. What do I want?”

“To slay them. To slay them all.”

“Sorry, wrong. But here’s a bird for your troubles,” she says, flipping him off. He only stares at her without reaction, Undertaker-style. “Who are you?”

“Let’s just say I’m a friend.”


Buffy and the man, together, say, “I’m a friend.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want another friend. I already have Connie.”

“I didn’t say I was yours.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be annoying me regularly, at least tell me, what is your name?”

“My name is-”

“It doesn’t MATTER what your name is!”

The man stares blankly at her. Buffy laughs.

“My name is Saint.”

“Saint what?”

“That’s it. Just, Saint.”

“No wonder why you’re so tormented. Saint Peter, Saint Paul, Saint Mark, then you. Just Saint. Maybe you should put the word ‘The’ in front of it so it doesn’t sound so….outdated ’80s pop-starish. Ta-ta Saint.”


The Little Brown Ring was filled to capacity tonight. Buffy found Connie Kuntz chatting with a group, all of them were dressed in similar short skirts and low cut tops.

“Buffy!” Air kiss, air kiss, from Connie. “Leather fetish?


“Well, you look okay, I suppose. We must go shopping. Excuse me a second. I need a line.”

One of the mindless drones asked Buffy about her bad girl past. Buffy was already bored with the convo before it began, so she just said, “I was a bitch. Deal with it.” Buffy looked around and saw Connie talking to a man dressed up as a baby, wearing only a diaper and complete with pacifier. Diaper Man lead Connie out the back door. Buffy’s got a hint something’s up. The narrator says so, that’s why. Or her instinct, whatever helps you get through this thing.

As she opened the back door, Buffy heard Diaper Man say, “I just shit myself.”

“Good for you. I hope my coke isn’t in your diaper,” Connie responds.

“Wanna touch my peepee?” Diaper Man tackles Connie. “Watch Monday Night Raw!”

Oh God! He was one of them!

Reacting on instinct, Buffy ran over to them and grabbed an ankle. She started to twist before she heard Connie yell, “Hey!” at her. “Watch the shoes!” Buffy then found the leg without the shoe and twisted.


Connie shoved the big baby with the broken legsy-wegsy off her and stood up from the garbage pile.

“I’ll never watch wrestling again! And you,” she says to Buffy. “For almost breaking my ankle, consider yourself depopularized A.O.R.N.” She pulls out a cell phone from her purse and heads back to the door.


“If I could hear you, I wouldn’t care anyway.”


“Hey Buffy,” Kay greeted as Buffy came in the back door. She’s now wearing blue overalls and a white flowery long sleeve shirt. Her hair is down and she’s without the purple glasses.

“Hey Kay. Cool, that rhymed. Anyway, whazzup?”

“Not much. I’ve been here for about five minutes. Still no guys look at me,” she tells Buffy as the head for a table. Buffy looks around and sees half a dozen boys looking in their direction. “They weren’t looking until you started to talk to me.”

“Hellllllllo, ladies,” Richard Hurtz greeted. “Kay?”


“I’m not going to ask the obvious question,” Buffy decided.

Kay gets all shy with her eyes.

Styles arrives. “Hello.”

They all greet him.

“Buffy, I need to talk to you about a bit of a problem that’s developed, um, in private.”

“Well, Dick knows already that I’m a Jobber Slayer. And you know Kay will find out eventually since she’s my best friend and all.”

“Right, well. We’ve gotten word that a Master is sending out jobbers into the streets to promote Raw.”

“Yeah, I just broke a Diaper Man’s leg. But I think he’s spread the word to Connie to never watch wrestling again. Negative reinforcement…”

“You’ve got to sop them. All of them.”

“No pressure there,” Buffy said shaking her head in disgust.

“We’ll help,” Kay volunteers.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The stage becomes backlit by a huge screen. A jumbo-tron of sorts. Farooq vs. Savio Vega! Oh no! It’s RAW!

“Be afraid. Be VERY afraid! Nobody leaves, nobody gets hurt. Just watch the show.”

Connie screams out. One of the dark followers grabs her and forces her onto the stage.

“It’s go time,” Buffy says.

The Master grabs Connie and forces her to watch the match, but worse, the show. The whole Raw experience. Buffy was on the move though. The Master’s minions had surrounded the stage and upon Buffy’s approach, prepared for a fight. These babies all wore leather jackets and were armed with bottles. As she approached, they grabbed the bottles by the nipples and broke the glass on the closest hard object. A table. A chair. A blonde’s head. The former innocent baby bottles were now instruments of death.

Buffy, armed with a pool cue, picked up the 8-ball and hit it like a baseball at one of the babies.

“Never played dodge ball before?”

Nine-ball. Baby 2 down.

“Didn’t anybody teach you the rules to this game?”

Cue ball. Another one down.

“Mark McGwire, eat your heart out.”

Four-ball. Another one down.

“The rules are simple.”

Five-ball. Another one gone.

“Buffy always wins Slay ball!”

And on and on until the only thing between Buffy and the Master was air.

“Uh, hello?” Connie asked. “Save me or you’ll so regret it.”

And with a wink and an evil smile, the Master threw Connie off the stage. Buffy missed the snag.

“Oww. I’m so suing this place!” Connie screamed.

A group of lawyers suddenly engulfed Connie and Buffy lost sight of the Master. She only heard something about how the havoc was just beginning.

“Wow, that was so cool. When you hit all those jobbers in the leg, they just disappear, huh?” Richard asked to no one in particular.

“It’s called Jobber Knee, it’s like an Achilles heel. It comes from Jobrony. That’s the proper name for jobbers. Just to hard to keep spelling over and over, y’know? To job a jobber, you gotta break the knee. Then they just go away like they never existed.


The next day. School.

Connie was talking to a friend. “I hear those baby men were part of a retarded gang. Rumor has it, Buffy knows them. They followed her here or something for revenge for her trying to kill them in a fire back in Greenwich. Well, the only thing getting burnt around here is her reputation.”

“Fire?” Kay asked as the ‘Shaggies’ eavesdropped on the conversation through a bush.

“Yeah, I burnt down the TV studio,” Buffy said matter-of-fact-like. “Kinda why I got kicked out of school. They made such bad shows there. People need to be entertained by television, not become mindless, psychotic robots because of it. TV is good. We must protect it.”

“Without good TV, the world is doomed,” Styles said.

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Town On the Verge of Existence

January 14th, 2002
Comments Off on Town On the Verge of Existence

[How did Sarah “The Jobber Slayer” come to be? Fair question. If you care, the BOBRP Channel (known affectionately as the ‘Burp’ channel) is going to be showing Sarah, from the beginning. All the great promos (including the early Buffy “The Jobber Slayer” promos, before the whole lawsuit thing) that made Sarah into a cult phenomenon and led her to BOB. Tonight, we begin with RP 1. The pilot RP is called “Town On The Verge of Existence.”]

Cloudydale High School. September, 1996.

Buffy Anne Summers arrived at high school. She wanted go home to bed, lay down and never get up again when she saw the teenage strangers around her in the hallways, smoking in front of the school, snorting coke in the parking lot, blabbing on and on about who was doing who, who was wearing what and who was wearing what while they were doing who. It was a big gossip fest. And Buffy wasn’t in on any of it. She felt lonely. She was just 16, you know what I mean? So very sweet and innocent. And hot.

Backstory: Buffy’s mother is a funeral director. Buffy’s parents are divorced. Before she came to this miserable little town nobody has ever heard of, not even the people at Rand McNally, she did time in Greenwich. There, she was a shallow, petty, spoiled, popular girl. She loved it. Now, she was down at the bottom of the food chain, forced to pay her dues and get noticed by the other kids so she get be in the “in-crowd” and be accepted.

She needed an “in.”

Then she saw it. The cafeteria. A beautiful raven-haired beauty in a baby-blue outfit that emphasized her long legs. The kind of legs that could wrap around a man’s head two or three times, eventually suffocating him, but the process would be worth it. She was gabbing at a vending machine with some fashion victims, who were wearing atrociously bright and slobby looking outfits. She put in some coinage and pressed a soda, only half paying attention to the mindless conversation. And with all she was doing at this point, her mind was pretty well stretched if ya dig what I’m saying.

The raven-haired beauty pressed the Pepsi button.

That wasn’t diet!

The girl picked up the soda, never glancing down to make sure what kind of soda she had bought. She cracked the top.

Buffy reacted instinctively. She ran toward the girl and went into a leap of sorts, eventually kicking the can, in some sort of slow-motion super high kicky motion, out of the girl’s hand. The can hit the ceiling, bringing down a bunch of tiles and dirt on the girl’s fashion victim friends, and then fell to the floor, and the soda began to slowly burn a hole in the floor.

“Hey bitch!” the girl said. “You owe me a soda.”

“Look at the can,” Buffy said. “I just saved you.”

The girl looks down at the can. Her jaw drops. “That isn’t diet. Wow. Sorry, I guess you don’t owe me a soda. Wait, yes you do! Wait. Who in the blue hell are you?”

“My name’s Buffy. Buffy Summers.”

“I’m Connie. Connie Kuntz. I’m the resident most popular sarcastic bitch of CHS. Buffy is a strange name. Don’t you think?”

“Pot: kettle: black.”

“Wit? I like that.” Connie looks around at her fallen friends and the ceiling. “Shame about them. Looks like I need a new friend. Guess that can be you.”

“Lucky me.”

“Consider yourself in. And believe me, unless you’re in with Kuntz, you ain’t in.”


Richard Hurtz looked on as the new girl and Connie chatted. He was already in love. But she didn’t even know he existed. How could she know? They hadn’t met, after all.


“I’ve heard you can help me,” Buffy told the awkward-looking redhead.

“Wha?” the redhead said, looking up from her book. Her breakfast eating also halted. The redhead wore small purple (Hippie-style) sunglasses and her hair was tied into a ponytail. She was wearing a long black skirt, combat boots and an Ani DiFranco T-Shirt. “Do what?”

“Study and junk. I hear you’re smart. Got a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend, *pfffft*, boys don’t even know I exist. Connie, your new friend, hasn’t even given me permission to share the hallways with her.”

“Tell you what. We’ll make a deal. You help me study, I’ll help you reach your potential.” Buffy lightly brushed the redhead’s face with the back of her hand. “Such a pretty face.”

The redhead blushed. “My name is Kay. Kay Fabe.”

Buffy stopped caressing Kay’s face. Kay noticed the sudden chill in the air. Then, a couple of guys walked by with a refrigerator on a cart. Buffy and Kay looked at them.

“How you doin’?” one of the guys asked.

“We’ll be better once you get to steppin’,” Buffy told him.

They get to steppin’.

“Did I say something?” Kay asks Buffy. “I kind of liked-”

The bell rings.

“I gotta go. Let’s meet tonight at the Little Brown Ring. I hear it’s the place to be. Actually, I hear it’s the ONLY place to be in Cloudydale.”



Buffy couldn’t find the class. Then she did. It was really scary there for a second. Once in class, she found out she’d need to take out a book for a research paper. Topic of her choice, within reason. She waited to research the myth of vampires. No doubt, she could find a book about vampires in a school library, right?

The name Kay Fabe still haunted her. But why?

“Oh my God!” The head librarian hung up the phone and seemed quite calm after that bizarre shout. She looked around at all the aisles of books. Stairs? More books upstairs? Yeah, whatever. She went to the librarian. “Can I help you?” he asked quite pleasantly with a hint of a British accent.

“Yeah. I’m kind of new here and, well, it’s my first time. In a library. And my first day here at school. I guess you could say I’m just losing all kinds of virginity today.”

The librarian takes off his glasses and wipes them with his tie. He shakes his head nervously. “New are you? Well, hmm, what can I, I, help you with….”

“A book.”

“Sorry, I wanted to know your name there.”

“What, at the pause?”


“Well, you should have said help you with, Miss….”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“No biggie. It’s Miss Summers.”


“Yeah,” she says puzzled. “How’d you know my name?”

The librarian walks out from behind the counter and heads toward the stairs. Buffy, after a pause, follows him.

“I want to write a paper on vampires.”

“Vampires? Isn’t that rather……” he trails off while they walk upstairs. “Odd?”


“Watch many movies?”

“No. My mom says movies are evil. We only get basic cable.”

“You poor girl,” he says stopping at the top of the staircase.

“I’m dealing. Chill. What’s your name anyway?”

“Mr. Styles.”

“Nice name. Very, stylish.”

“Yes, well.” They walk again. They go to the far wall, past aisle after aisle of dusty works. Buffy stops and turns around quick. “What is it?” Mr. Styles asks.

“Ever have the feeling you were being watched? I’ve felt that way all day. I didn’t feel that way yesterday.”

“You best get used to it.” He walks down an aisle.


Richard saw Buffy go into the library. But there was nobody around when he went inside. Empty much? Then he heard something upstairs, like a big book falling. He quickly ran, no, slowly ran, to the stairs and went up them, as opposed to going down the up staircase. When Richard realized how poorly grammatical his brain was, we switched scenes. Poorly grammatical, sheesh.


Mr. Styles picked up the thick tome and brought it to Buffy. She looked at it. The title: Jobbers.

“I hope Jobbers is Latin for vampires.”

“Sorry, no. Buffy, you’re the chosen one.”

“Are you trying to pick me up?”

“No. You are the Jobber Slayer. You were called by the Federation to end the era of bad gimmicks and take the sport in a more entertaining direction. The Federation is still very upset Disco Inferno has a job. He defeated the last Slayer.”

“But you digress,” Buffy said. “Look I know all about jobbers. To become a jobber you have to suck. Jobbers are a lot like vampires. Vampires want to suck, jobbers want to suck. It’s a big suck fest here in Cloudydale, isn’t it?”

“Right. It may take a year or two, but we believe wrestling is due for a big boom. With the new millennium coming and all, and wrestling gets big near the end of every decade, so with the millennium, it should be huge. That’s why you’re needed. Jobbers are everywhere. And for some unknown, mysterious reason, there is a high concentration of jobbers in this area. There’s a theory that industrial waste from Stamford is responsible for the outbreak. Stamford is where the World Wrestling Federation is based out of.”

“Damn McMahon. He sure has got an attitude, doesn’t he? If I ever see him, I’m gonna stick my foot straight up his ass. And that’s the bottom line, because Buffy Summers said so. So, we work for the WWF?”

“No, we work for The Federation. Completely different thing,” he says winking.


“Oh my God, no, no. I have a twitch. That wasn’t a lie wink,” he says winking again.

“Yeah, sure. Well, I’ll go read this book I guess. But I still need my vampire book. Don’t want to resurrect them demons of non-studiology.”


Lunch. Buffy didn’t go to the cafeteria. Instead, she sat alone outside at a picnic table. She began to read of the TV eyesores, such as Shockmaster, the Gobbledegooker, Koko B. Ware, Iron Mike Sharpe and the Yeti. So many bad gimmicks. The horror!

Then, somebody tripped over the table.

“Hi,” he said, looking at the book. “Can I lay down with you, I mean, for you? Or would you hurt me too badly?”

She closes the book and puts it in her backpack. “What?”

“I heard about you being the Slayer and all. Can I join your group?”

“There is no group.”

“Well, let’s get one then. C’mon, I’m a huge wrestling fan. Have you heard the ‘boring’ chants lately? It’s brutal. I want to help. And this way, I can not get mega-obsessed with you and cause you more problems by stalking you at inopportune times and being a generally major distraction.”

“As if. Fine, just, meet me later tonight.”

“Little Brown Ring? I know it well. See you there.”


“It’s an omen. It all makes sense.”

Back at the library.

“Styles, it’s just a student. How can you tell he stayed home because of a jobber on TV?”

“If the plague of apathy spreads, Cloudydale will exist. For real. Listen again.”

Styles plays the tape again for the reluctant Slayer.

“This is Ms. Kool. J.D. won’t be in today. He’s vomiting and extremely ill. Today is Tuesday. Thank you.”

Raw strikes again.

“Look at these numbers. The lower the ratings go, the day after, the more sick students there are.” He passes her the attendance records and Nielsen ratings from the last six months.

“Wait. These numbers are low. And then there are huge absences. Does that mean, wrestling helps people?”

“Yes, exactly. Especially teenagers.”

“So, if more people were entertained by wrestling, there would be less sickness and despair, and maybe, this would be a better world?”

“That’s why The Federation called you.”

Buffy thought to herself about all the good she could do. She could change the world. She could make people care about wrestling again by eliminating the problems. The bad gimmicks. The untalented performers. Those who lack charisma and just don’t have “it.”

“What would happen if Cloudydale existed?”

“I don’t know. The best way I could explain it would be to imagine somebody trying to compete with the NFL. In other words, it would be an EXTREME mistake, not to mention an EXTREME eyesore.

They both grab their bellies and laugh heartily at that preposterous thought.

“I don’t know,” Styles says, cleaning his glasses again. “But we could have a new promotion of embarrassing proportions or a never-ending supply of jobbers. Tough to say.”

“Guess we’ll have to save the world then.”

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