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Posts Tagged ‘XFactor Pete Trable’

Can a turkey gooble “TrableTrableTrable”?

November 10th, 2008
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The Great

(The Great and Pete “X-Factor” Trable are packing their gear bags for October Surprise. Actually, they should have already done so and be at October Surprise, so this could be a day or so late in translation. Oh well.)

The Great: Pete, are you ready for Snore Games: The Match Be-Yawn? The Great sure is ready. This is the biggest match in The Great’s career. Even bigger than when The Great wrestled Death for THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS.

Pete: Why you shoutin’, dawg? I’m right here, yo!

XFactor Pete Trable

The Great: The Great was told you must capitalize ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS when typing, er, saying it. You should know that, you’ve been in BOB long enough.

Pete: Word. But I never get to umm, say that, since I ain’t never be rasslin’ for it. Feel me?

The Great: The Great gets your point. By the way, The Great must ask you something about what you said back at the Swiss Army Scrabble Scramble.

Pete: Shoot. I be all ears.

The Great: The Great cannot sugar coat this. The Great will not beat around the bush. Although it appears you’ve been beating around some bush during The Great’s moments of working The Great’s day job.

Pete: Word?

The Great: Oh? Pete has for gotten? Let The Great refresh your memory. Here’s what you said. Then feel free to look at The Great. And elaborate.

(The Great pulls out an iMPLOSION! 14 transcript and begins to read)

You said: Then there’s the dude who calls himself The Great
Let me ya’ll a little secret: his first name’s not Nate
His identity
May be a mystery
Even to me
But there is one thing that I know about the Great’s wife
You’ve heard my raps, you know about Barney Fife and word life?
Then you also know I’d love to be in her face, sucka
And you could call Pete Trable a mother— *mic in the air*

Then the crowd said: *BLEEEEP*

And Styles added: OH MY GOD!

(The Great crumples the paper and tosses in on the floor.)

The Great: Well? Explain this to The Great.

Pete: Yo, dawg! I was just playin’! I’m not tryin’ to talk to your girl, your girl can’t even cook, yo! My boo gots to be able to mix up some red beans and rice at the drop of a hat. Fry some chicken if need be, know what I’m sayin’?

(The Great stares at Pete with a look of suspicion.)

Pete: YO! We partnahs! This is the most action I’ve got in BOB, yo! I ain’t stuck in broke ass factions like Heirarchy and sayin’ dumb shit like gram-gram. Since we hook up, I got regular work! I ain’t tryin’ to hate on you and get busy wit your girl. I ain’t tryin’ to hit that!

The Great: Oh, so now The Great’s wife “ain’t worth hitting?”

Pete: Nah, she worth hittin’, I didn’t mean it like that, yo!

The Great: So you WOULD like to hit it.

Pete: Dude, you be twissin’ my words around! Chill, bro! I was just tryin’ to pump up the fans, that’s all! Like I said, my boo gotta cook! She gotta stir up some chitlins and fatback. Pigs feet, yo! All I eat since I got here is Top Ramen and Skahetti O’s! What kinda gangsta eat Skahetti O’s?

The Great: The Great guesses one from the ghetti – o’s? Maybe some Latin gangstas from the— barrios?

Pete: That ain’t right, dawg! Look, I was just Pete bein’ Pete, yo! I was freestylin’, and when I be freestylin’, the raps just flow, know what I’m sayin’? Sometimes I can’t control it.

The Great: Okay. Okay. I guess The Great will accept that apology. But only if you finished that video you promised to make The Great. The one for Angelina X. I hope she didn’t renig on that turkey dinner because The Great didn’t flop for Hawking.

Pete: Yeah, it ain’t cool bein’ a renigger!

The Great: Did you finish it?

Pete: Word! It’s all set. You sang my lyrics like a champ, dawg! Got the sunglasses on there and everythin’. Yo face is a little whack, but I added some beats and it’s all good. Check it out! After Angelina see this, she won’t be able to say no to cookin’ us some bird!

(They go over to The Great’s television and Pete plops a DVD into the player)

The Great: That’s——-well, THAT’S GREAT! You’re right, she can’t say no to THAT! Let’s go to Snore Games and kick some ass, pal!

Pete: WOOooOOoOOoOoOoOOOoRD!

(They grab their bags and leave.)

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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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Wiggerocity – pt.3

July 28th, 2008
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Axl

[We open once again upon the Residence of Evil, where the VW Beetle… of Evil… has just pulled into the driveway. The doors swing open, and Axl steps out from the front passenger’s side seat, before heading to the back door and opening it. From within emerges the Lord of Darkness. No, not THAT ‘Lord of Darkness… or even THAT ‘Lord of Darkness’. Not that ‘Lord of Darkness’ either. No, the one I refer to, is none other than Garth Vader, the one and only. Viruz exits from his spot behind the steering wheel, and the trio head toward the inner sanctum of the Residence…]

> > > a few minutes later < < < [Axl and Viruz are testing out the latest prototype of the very first widely released X-Station game, 'Super Mario Whatever', when four Dollar Store Troopers walk into the den from the kitchen... all wearing cheap "rapper" gear, ontop of their customary Trooper attire. They part to the sides, and Garth walks onto the scene...] Garth Vader

Garth: *wheeze* Axl-walker… Viruz. I have assembled the Troopers here for an emergency meeting… to call down within your beings, and pull forth the power…

Garth: … of the FUNK.

[Axl and Viruz look at eachother with a quizzical expression across their faces.]

Axl: [looking at Garth] Uhm… What the funk is the… Funk?

Viruz: … [looks at Garth… then back at Axl] Ya know, Trable might have been right. We do sort of get cruddy material.

Viruz

Axl: Hey, I try hard, ‘kay?

Garth: … Again, I’m lost…

Axl: Sorry, inside reference…

Garth: *shakes head* Annnyway… *wheeze* … Really need to check with the doctor about that asthma… But back on point. The Funk is the power… the inner energy… the “force” if you will, within us all, to bring out something incredible… something stupendous… something… Fresh, Hot, and Spankadellic!

Viruz: [looking at Axl] Ya SURE we got the RIGHT Vader this time?

Axl: I… think so…

Garth: Ugh… In other words, you two are going to have a second chance to rap, but this time, I’m going to provide you with something VERY powerful. Something you didn’t have back at the day care center.

Axl: A wooden paddle to smack those kids around with?

Garth: No! A beatbox!

Axl: … Wow.

Viruz: Can I get back to playing the game? It’s VERY important, and CAN’T wait!

Axl: STOP CAPITALIZING EVERYTHING!!!

Viruz: …

Axl: And cut it with the damn ‘…’s! CHRIST!!!

Viruz: 😉

Axl: ARGGGHHH!!!

Garth: These four Troopers are going to provide the beatbox for the most masterful combination of rhyme and rhythm ever!

Axl: I highly doubt that…

Viruz: :p

Axl: WILL YOU STOP THAT?!

Garth: Hit it boys! And May the Funk Be With Yooooooouuuuuuuuu!!!

[And so – ]

Garth: *wheeze*

[…]

Garth: I need an inhaler…

[The Troopers cup their hands around their mouths and begin a beat, while Axl and Viruz begin to rap. Well, this oughta be… terrible.]

Axl: Yo dawg, yo dawg, YO!
My name is Axl, The Great’s an asshole.
I crap things with more cred than ‘XFactor’ Trable.
The Great has the nerve tah call a guy like ME a tool?
He must be talkin’ about my nuts and bolt, cuz if he is, that’s cool.

Viruz: I –

Axl: I ain’t gonna cut him down for wantin’ a piece of The Axl.
Just as long as he knows, I ain’t a homosexual.
But if HE is, then that’s fine, that’s just Great.
Better for him to go out with a feminine looking guy than that wife that looks like a primate.

Viruz: The –

Axl: The dude’s got a slut for a daughter, named Lauren or some shit,
The chick’s probably got the gat dam Grand Canyon for a clit.
One of his boys is a retard, who’s just not that smart…
His other son’s named Nick. Atleast he doesn’t accidentally blow the house apart!

Viruz: And –

Axl: And then you’ve got the grandma, the dusty old witch.
Wah wah wah wah wah. Decipher THAT one, bitch!
And Petey, you’re your own number one fan.
The only action you ever get is from your right or left hand!

Viruz: … Ahem. So –

Axl: So, to sum this shit up, cuz I know you two got ADD,
You have only one chance to defeat the Hierarchy,
And that’s if XFactor dies and the Great passes too,
So we have tah face two undead zombies. Instead ah just two braindead foo’s!!!

Viruz: … Foo’s? … Axl, you didn’t let me get any lines in! Not even a word in edge-wise!

Axl: Huh. Well, go ahead. Say something.

Viruz: … Word.

Axl: …

[Yeah… as I thought. Terrible.]

Garth: Dammit! I could have sworn the beatbox thing was what got Trable over! But this rap was just… just… Well, what do you think judges?

[The camera switches to three judges at a desk. One, a black man. One, a white woman. And the third, a white man. A BRITISH white man. Yep, this is familiar…]

Black Guy: Yo, man, that was some crazy shit right there. … Crazy as in bad. Really. Seriouslly, just plain bad. … Yo.

White Chick: I love it! It’s wonderful, it’s awesome, it’s fabulous! … Oops, sorry, let me take my headphones off, I was just listening to “Straight Up”! Uhm… from what I could actually hear… yeah, your rapping stinks. Very much. … Sorry.

British Dude: Pip pip, cheerio, and all that good rubbish. As for the “rap”, if you can really call it that… rubbish. Without the ‘good’ part. The absolute most terrible, horrible, terrible, awful, terrible… did I mention terrible?

Axl/Viruz: YES!

British Dude: – thing I’ve EVER had the dishonor of listening to. Abysmal. And terrible.

Axl/Viruz: WE GET IT!

Garth: Well, *wheeze*, it’s obvious ‘The Funk ™’ isn’t going to help you defeat Great and Pete… Maybe the Shchwartz… I hear that SpaceBalls FlameThrower packs some… heat. … Geez… This script is…

British Dude: Terrible?

Garth: Uhm… yeah. That.

Axl: Hey, I said I try my damndest. It’s just hard, what with the… thinking. … I’m hungry.

Garth: Well, damn… Axl, maybe you should just do what you’re best at. Talking. … You need another balloon microphone, I’ve got plenty.

Axl: … No thanks.

[Axl plops down on the sofa, and while Viruz returns to plugging away at his beta, Axl begins to share a few words with… ugh… “The Axl-Holics”…]

Axl: Hello, my Kingdom. It’s good to see you again. As you know, at Power is Stolen, the Hierarchy has an opportunity… a SHOT at a title shot… against the number one rising star in Brawlers today, The Great… and his flunky.

Viruz: YES! Level 2!

Axl: … You’ve been on the first level for FIVE hours…

Viruz: I know… I’m good at making games. Never said I was good at playing them…

Axl: … Anyway, Great has stated that he hopes for my prescence in the contest, so that Great can “destroy” me. And while normally, I wouldn’t just bow to the whim of another… in fact, if there’s to be ANY bowing, it’s to be done at MY feet… Well, I’m going to let you know Great. I’ll be there. My brother over here? He’ll be there as well. And the two of us… the Brothers of Jawesomeness… instead of being destroyed? We’re going to be the ones destroying the two of you greased up monkey butts!!! Not just for the sake of the titles… NOT just for the sake of the Kingdom… But because Pete… you broke one of the King’s Golden Rules!

Viruz: Uh, lemme guess… he called you a que-

Axl: DON’T you dare! Noone is allowed to mention that word around me! And Peter! I am not… and I repeat, NOT… that word. I am no longer a lipstick and fingernail polish wearing goth poser. I Am no longer a hair-metalist with caked on makeup! I AM… me. Myself. I am simply… The Axl. The Axl that the entire wheel that is BoB rotates constantly around. For without me, BoB would SUFFER! It would flounder, slowly dying… slowly creeping closer, and closer, and closer still… to its dying breathe. And with me as one of its champions? BoB will become the very pinnacle of professional amateur fake-ass e-sports entertainment wrestling!!!

Viruz: This game sucks.

Axl: You MADE the game! I thought you said you were good at that?

Viruz: Uh… I lied?

Axl: … As I said, Pete, I am NOT… you know what. And the next time you refer to me as such, I shall have to force you to choke on those words! And furthermore, while my bit at the day care center may have sucked, my rap just a few moments ago? It was better than each and every last one of your pathetic ‘rhymes’, wrapped up and rolled into one huge, gigantanormous ball of… of… WIGGEROCITY!!!

Viruz: DAMMIT! FUCK!!!~!1 Game Over!

Axl: Shit dude, you suck at the game you yourself made. That’s… that’s just sad. But you know what won’t be sad?

Viruz: When I edit the game so you win by beating the first level?

Axl: … When you and I defeat Great and Trable, and go on to obliterate Studnuts and that guy ‘??’, whoever HE is, for the tag titles! And Pete… Great? When the four of us meet, what happened to Thrilla and Paradox… well, it’ll PALE in comparison to what the Hierarchy does to the two of YOU! You’ll be dead! You’ll be deader THAN dead! In fact, you’ll be SO dead, it’ll give an all new meaning to what the word dead even means! It’ll mean… uh… REALLY… REALLY fuckin’ dead! We’re going to do things that Space Cop and Space Duck and Space Dick and Space Cock and Space Spacely never even DREAMED of! … Except the raping part.

Axl: Because I’m not gay.

Axl: …

Axl: PERIOD.

Viruz: OH, FUCK THIS SHIT!

[Viruz sends the controller hurtling through the tv screen.]

Viruz: Uh… didn’t Michelle buy that thing the other day?

Axl: Man… it’s going to be hard to replace a 60 inch, plasma screen tv… Wait, I’ve got an idea.

> > > a few minutes later < < < Axl: There, that oughta do it. Viruz: You think she'll notice? [The camera takes a quick shot of an 8 inch, black and white tv built into an A.M. radio...] Axl: Uh... nah. ... Probably. Aw well, you did it, so what's the big deal? ... I mean, if you're me. ... Sorry, bro. Anyway, I'm hungry, I think I'll go grab a bite. Ya want anything? Viruz: The number of a good doctor... I think I'm gonna need it... |the|

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Wiggerocity – pt.2

July 26th, 2008
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Axl

[The scene opens to the exterior of Sinister City Day Care Center, where the yellow VW Beetle of Evil has just pulled up to the curb. The engine dies, and the doors swing open… as the masked Viruz and grungy attired Axl remove themselves from the vehicle.]

Viruz: I just hope he hasn’t taken a lightsaber to the little rascals. We don’t need a lawsuit on our hands…

Viruz

Axl: Hey, if those brats get on Garth’s bad side, I say more power to him. I might just join in on the kiddy slaughter!

Viruz: [looks at Axl with a raised eyebrow] You’re one sick individual, ya know that?

Axl: I know. It’s in the family blood.

[Axl and Vi head inside the center… where they come upon a sight that forces a giggle from them both.]

Garth: Greetings Young Axl-walker, Viruz… … *wheeze* Do I sense… laughter? Directed at ME?!

Garth Vader

Axl: Calm your jets, man, it’s just… *snort* Dude, that get-up!

Garth: What? *wheeze* You’ve never witnessed THE Dark Clown?

Viruz: You mean… the ICP?

Garth: NO, you fool! The Dark Clown, Garth Klownius! The lord and master of all that is evil in the galaxy! He is the father of Garth Maul and I. *wheeze* And this is my tribute costume, in his honor.

Axl: You know what I think?

Garth: What?

Axl: I think you’re just acting like a goofball for these little pukes.

Garth: What?! *wheeze* What would give you such an idea! Why, I –

Kid #1: When are you gunna make anutter crazy, wacky, goofy face, Garthy the Clown?

Kid #2: How’s about anutter crazy, wacky, goofy ba-woon aminal, Garthy the Clown?

Kid #3: I wunna see anutter crazy, wacky, goofy magic trick, Garthy the Clown!

Garth: Why don’t I take my crazy, wacky, goofy lightsaber and cut you little shits into ribbons!!!

Kids: …

Viruz: Wow… you really have a way with children.

Garth: Comes with putting up with Dollar Store Troopers all the time. They match up with kids on the intellectual level rather well… Hey kids, why don’t these two fellas head into the costume closet of fun, and put on a show for you all! Doesn’t that sound like FUN?!

Kids: …

Kid #4: As long as they don’t cut us intah ribbons…

[Garth leads the Hierarchy brothers toward the back of the center, where a large costume closet is prepared. Axl and Viruz head inside, and within minutes, Garth lets the kids know that the brothers are ready to entertain.]

Garth: Ok, kiddies! *wheeze* Introducing… one of them is GREAT! The other is whiter than a loaf ah Wonderbread! *wheeze* They are – The Mediocre, and ‘X-File’ Peterrr GRIFFIN!!!

Kid #5: … Who?

Garth: They’re the two biggest sensations in the the world of proffesional, amateur, fake-ass, e-sports entertainment wrestling… today!

Kid #5: … Oh.

[Garth hits ‘play’ on a colorful, Hannah-Montanah themed stereo, which begins playing ‘Ice Cold Thug Jizzy”s latest single “Bitches Up Off the Hizzy”, in stores NOW! Not at Wal-Mart.]

[Axl and Viruz walk out of the closet… which I’ll refrain from making any lewd comments about the fact that that sounds just a TAD wrong. Axl, wears a loud, buttoned up Hawaiian shirt ; awful lime green slacks ; and penny loafers (named for the fact that they couldn’t possibly cost more than a single cent…), with his hair tied back in a ponytail. For some reason he’s wearing reading glasses even though he doesn’t NEED glasses to read… or for anything else, really…]

[Viruz is dressed in the WHITE-est, quote, unquote, “gangsta” apparel this side of Robert Van Winkle. Not to mention quite possibly the weirdest… A chain around his neck hooked to a large LaserDisc… a backwards “Weird” Al Yankovic cap… and a “grill” consisting of tiny, glued together computer chips. And to top things off, he’s wearing a throw-back jersey. A Sinister City Sugar Daddies, #000 jersey to be exact, the very same numbers of world reknowned original Sugar Daddy player ‘Kareem “White Everywhere, ‘Cept Down There” Uvwheet’. Garth takes two baloons, and twists them both into “microphones”, which he passes over to both Axl and Viruz.]

Axl: … We’re supposed to talk into these?

Garth: Come on, it’s for the little ones!

Axl: Dude, you’re SO sucking up for a fatter paycheck. It’s pathetic.

Garth: I know… *wheeze*

Axl: [turns to the kids] Hey kids! You’re looking at THE Mediocre,
And unlike Bozo here, I’m no joker!
The Mediocre is hotter than a red hot poker!
And if your supervisor was a chick with panties, the Mediocre would soak her!

Viruz: Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, YO~!!!1

Viruz: I’m Peter Griffin and I’m here to say,
That the ‘X-File”s not… uh… really gay!
I will raise the roof in this here house…
And kick the butt of a little mouse!

Axl: … Dude. That sucked.

Viruz: Better than your impression of the ‘Great’…

Kid #6: MY DAD COULD RAP BETTER THAN YOU TWO!!!

Viruz: Who’s your dad?

Kid #6: I really don’t know, cuz mama said she was like… somethin’ called a ‘group hug’.

Axl: You mean a GROUPIE! Hahaha, your mom was some cheap trick for a big rock star like I used to be! Hell, maybe you’re MY kid! … Damn, I hope your mom isn’t watching this… She might make me pay support!

Kid #6: Oh, wait, NOW I remember! She said his name was, uh… Pete… Table?

Viruz: Uh oh…

Axl: TRABLE?!?! You’re one of Trable’s bastard kids!?!?! After all the smack talk he’s been aiming at me, why I oughta… I oughta… ARGGH!!!

[Axl suddenly pounces on the 4 year old, lunging for his throat. Jeez, this guy’ll attack anybody… commentators, children… Good thing I’m just a disembodied voice, or he might… Phfff, what am I sayin’? He couldn’t take me on his BEST day!]

Viruz: You seem to forget his first round match in the Grand Slam tourney…

[… I TRIED to forget that. THANKS FOR BRINGING IT BACK UP!… dork.]

[Anyway, before Axl can do too much damage, Viruz and Garthy the Clown – ]

Garth: HEY!

[Sorry. Garth and Vi drag Axl off the kid, as the leader of the Hierarchy screams obsceneties.]

Axl: Ya lilly livered, farfanuggin’, razza-frackin’ –

[… Don’t think we’ll be needing the bleep button for this particular rant…]

Axl: – gall darn son-of-a-Massachussetes BASTARD!

[Damn, too late. Missed the bleep button by a hair. Well, that’s a good way to squeeze by the censors, just pad your words with kindgergarten level “curse” words, before unleashing “the big one”. That Axl, I’ll tell ya, he’s a slippery devil…]

[Viruz and Garth try to calm down Axl, but… ]

Viruz: Well, hey man, look on the bright side. Remember when I said that your, as you said, awesome abs, chiseled torso, and beautiful biceps, would cause the kids to vomit?

Axl: … So?

Viruz: Well, atleast they didn’t-

Kid #7: *barf*

Axl: NOT MY WONDERFUL PENNY LOAFERS! WHY YOU LITTLE – !!!

Viruz: No Axl! We can’t afford a lawsuit!!! … Hell, we don’t have anything for them to take… GO AHEAD, BEAT THE SNOT OUT OF THE LITTLE FUCKER!!!

Garth: [using his powers to halt Axl in his tracks] Axl-walker!!! You must NOT allow this tiny, insignificant ant to cloud your mind!

Axl: But… I spent my last penny on these shoes! … I mean gazillion dollars… Yeah, that’s the ticket.

[As Axl stands right before the kid, fist clenched and raised, as the child cowers in fear, Garth uses his powers to slowly pull Axl’s fingers apart from eachother, and form a flat palm, directed toward the top of the kid’s head. Vader then uses a little more power to “Force” Axl to pat the kid on his head. The kid winces… but soon begins to smile.]

Garth: Now see, doesn’t that make you feel better?

Axl: I… I guess…

Garth: Good.

[Garth then whips out his lightsaber, and severs the child’s body clean in half.]

Garth: And that made ME feel better! Much – *wheeze* – MUCH better!

Kids: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Kid #8: Mean ol’ Garfy the Clown jus’ killed Steve Roydz Jr!!!

Axl: … Uh…

Viruz: Man, the Brothers Garth must be on a Roydz family killing spree…

Garth: And now Axl… it is time. Time for me to reveal my TRUE identity!!!

*dun-dun-DUNNN!*

Axl: *gasp*

Garth: Axl… I am… I Am… I AM…

[Garth removes the helmet… to reveal – ]

Viruz: … Mary Benz?

Axl: Who?

Viruz: I was searching Yahoogle, and found an article on this woman… she used to be a Day Care Supervisor… until she abused a small kid.

Axl: … Wait… so you’re saying… That Garth Vader… is a WOMAN?!

*dun-dun-DUNNN!*

Viruz: …

Mary: Actually, fellas, I only used the DISGUISE of Garth Vader to trick the little brats here, and the employees, into believing I was someone decent. Someone wholesome. Someone they could trust.

Axl: … We ARE talking about Garth, right?

Viruz: Well, from what I can tell, he’s alot less evil than this bitch…

Mary: And now that one more annoying little toddler has met their grisly demise, I may take my leave! Ciao, babes!

[Axl and Viruz look at eachother.]

Axl: No –

Viruz: – Way.

Axl: [looks back at Mary] You SO didn’t just disgrace THE most sacred parting phrase in all of the English vernacular!!!

Viruz: YOU BITCH!!!

Mary: I –

*slice!*

[Suddenly, from behind, Mary was quickly cut in two, thanks to the lightsaber of the TRUE Garth Vader. A guy who wouldn’t be caught DEAD in a clown suit, regardless of it being the traditional garb of his father.]

Garth: Huh? Traditional garb… *wheeze* Have I missed something?

Axl: [puts an arm over Garth’s shoulder, and they, along with Viruz, walk toward the front door] Garth… it’s a long story. Which I’ll have to conveniantly tell you in between scenes, so that the writer doesn’t actually have to write any of it.

Viruz: Classic Hollywood Writing Strategery! Ya gotta love it!

Garth: … What?

[Axl and Viruz share a hearty, “closing sitcom scene” laugh, walking with Garth to the Beetle of Evil… Garth seeming to be more than just a bit puzzled…]

|continued|

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P.I.S.R.P.w/T.G.&P.T.

July 25th, 2008
Comments Off on P.I.S.R.P.w/T.G.&P.T.

The Great

(Close up shot of The Great, whose head looks very big right now.)

“The Great”: Axl, I guess The Great will go ahead and accept your out of character apology. The Great does, however, still think you’re a tool. At Power is Stolen, The Great and Pete Trable will let that water be under the bridge, we’ll let by gones be by gones. The beating you guys get from us will be punishment enough for your crimes. We’re going to destroy whatever Heirarchy members we face. Hopefully, you’re one of them.

XFactor Pete Trable

(The camera angle zooms back a bit to reveal The Great and Pete Trable located in an unsavory section of downtown St. Louis. While The Great is dressed in black slacks and a button down shirt, Pete is in full gangsta regalia (well, what he considers “gangsta” anyway)— super baggy jeans, tan Lugz, and a throwback Vince Ferragamo jersey. Despite it being 73 degrees outside and evidence of a slight drizzle, both men are standing next to a lid-less 50 gallon metal drum with a fire burning inside it.)

“The Great”: That’s right, The Heirarchy. The Great and Pete Trable are in East St. Louis. We’ll probably be murdered in less than 10 minutes, so we’re in a hurry to get out of here. Pete insisted to do this in this location, he begged The Great. The Great finally complied. Pete has something to say to you and your group. The Great will standby and listen, and keep The Great’s finger on the trigger of The Great’s Baretta.

(Pete steps in front of The Great. A couple of disheveled winos that were rolling dice to this point, stop and begin a simple beat box routine. Pete’s body starts to move, and when he’s “in time” with the beat boxing, he just blurts out.)

Pete: That’s true, it’s Pete—
In East St. Lou.
Telling all what we gonna—
do to you.

IT’S FRESH!

You never heard this shit be – fore
Look over there – at that crack whore!

Come to P.I.S. and don’t meander.
Cheap Trick’s lead-singer is Robin Zander.
That shit in your hair?—
some call it dander.
Axl, you’re a queer —
and that shit ain’t slander.

My partner is The Great—
but not Alexander.
This match is a slam dunk—
A LeBron one hander!

Oh YEAH—
We – gonna – kick – that – ass
My bullets penetrate—
Yard thick glass.

That last line sucked
I know it’s true
But it hella lot better
Than what you could do.

When I was in your faction
it was kinda like in-traction
An action hero—
without the action.

Your raps made me suck—
in the eyes of the fans
My street cred vanished—
Like Guevara’s hands.

I’m serious, yo!
When you started to rhyme—
You should’ve been arrested
for a death row crime!

But Pete is back
you know that’s right.
Gonna whoop that ass—
in an one-sided fight.

And if you don’t understand
all of my rhymes
Maybe Fraud can return—
and explain this time.

WORD!

Now when you lose to the best—
And you wanna throw rocks
Just remember what happened
To Thrillacox.

Don’t cry when you job—
We just a team you can’t stop
By the time we through—
You’d prefer rape from Spacecop.

OH YEAH!
This shit?
It’s gonna get nasty.
I can’t think of anything to rhyme with nasty.

In short, we’re gonna go—
JOBBER BOWLIN’!
Guess who’s the pins?
At Power is Stolen.

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Hail to the Kings.

July 20th, 2008
Comments Off on Hail to the Kings.

Axl

[The scene: The Residence of Evil. The time: 10 o’clock PM, July 19th, 2008. Pigeon and Roydz have just entered through the front door, wearing the Sinister City jerseys they wore to the game. The game they lost. The game Axl bet on… and is now more than pissed off about. As Pigeon and Steve make their way toward the living room couch with solemn expressions, Axl leaps from the couch and clutches Pigeon by his t-shirt collar, pinning him to the wall, as Steve shakes in his tennis shoes.]

Axl: DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID?! DO YOU?! WELL, DO YOU?!

Pigeon

Pigeon: Dude, seriously, try mouthwash.

Axl: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?! ARE YOU MOCKNG ME?! Do you understand that I brought you up from being a jobber to a… well, not exactly a main eventer… or even really a mid-carder… BUT ATLEAST YOU’RE NOT MICHELLE’S BITCH!!!

Pigeon: Yeah, now YOU get that privilege!!!

Axl: WHAT?! I am NOT Michelle’s, nor anyone ELSE’S, bitch! When I dropped Rose like a bad habit, I broke off onto my own! Michelle and I are equals! 50/50!!! Isn’t that right, honey!

Michelle

Michelle: You mean 20/80, sweetie. You’re forgetting I’M the one with the real power around here.

Axl: … 40/60?

Michelle: 20/80.

Axl: … 30/70?

Michelle: 20/80.

Axl: 25/75, FINAL offer.

Michelle: 20/80.

Axl: [turns back to Pigeon] So, as I was saying, me and Michelle are 20/80 partners. EQUALS!!! … More or less.

Michelle: I’m more, you’re less…

Axl: But you, Pigeon? Or anyone ELSE that isn’t named Michelle, Viruz, Kurt or Garth? Well, the Truth is, noone else is on the same level as the Hierarchy. That’s why we’re CALLED the Hierarchy. Because in this business, there’s a certain order one must follow. There’s the jobbers… there’s the mid-carders… there’s the main-eventers… and then? Then, there’s the people like me and Michelle, that look down on eeeeveryone else, and LAUGH, because while they toil… while they pick fights with eachother and scrape and claw and bruise just to reach the heights of mediocrity, WE’RE on an entirely different plane of existence. We’re the shit.

Axl: Everyone else? They’re just… plain… SHIT.

Pigeon: Your breath SMELLS like shit…

Axl: PIGEON! That’s the last word I’ll hear out of you! Quoth Axl… Nothing more! While the OLD Axl just stood by and let people talk down to him, the NEW Axl will be DAMNED if some no-talent, piss-ant, waste of flesh spouts off at the mouth when what he SHOULD be doing is praising me… WORSHIPPING the ground I walk on!

Pigeon: The hell are you goin’ on about?

Axl: Oh? You think I haven’t been watching the replays on G5? Pigeon, you’re PATHETIC. And not to mention rather stupid.

Pigeon: Hey, just because I live in a small cage attached to the basement ceiling doesn’t mean I’m STUPID! I have to avoid the cats SOMEHOW!!!

Axl: … As I was saying, I have concrete evidence that proves you haven’t been calling Hierarchy matches the APPROVED Hierarchy method! I’ve put together an audio recording of your commentary at UnFOURgiven. Michelle, could you load the tape and press play, please?

[Michelle pulls out a cassette tape, and places it in a stereo, before hitting the ‘play’ button.]

Pigeon: hello gentlemen. it’s your honor to have me, i’m sure.

Styles: Pigeon?

Pigeon: that’s right, mikey styles. the boss is here.

SW: Who, Seth Harker?

Pigeon: no. me! pigeon! you know the deal. since trey vincent wouldn’t allow wes rivers or that other guy out here to do commentary, i’m out here to give heel support to the Hierarchy.

Pigeon: So… what’s the problem?

Axl: It’s just started, fucktard! And besides, referring to yourself as the BOSS?! You’ve ALREADY crossed the line of no return!

SW: Hey, Pigeon, how do you feel about this whole Axl-Michelle thing?

Pigeon: how do i feel about michelle being with Axl? it feels like i just puked my guts out, then somebody sucked up the vomit up into a bag, shoved a tube up my ass, gave me a vomit enema, then hung my legs over my head bugs bunny style until I shot diarrhea vomit straight up in a bloody brown stream that rained down all over my face. that’s how it felt, smegma.

SW: Yeah. That’s how I feel whenever I have to sit through an Axl promo.

[The crowd boos as “Under the Knife” by AC/DC hits. Though I have no idea how this is possible, or has been possible for the last few years, as there seems to be no record of this song existing.]

Styles: And this one’s already under way before Thrilla can even get his introduction. Ken and Mano jumped Harker and are pounding him on the outside.

SW: Yeah. They’re pounding him like the way no doubt Axl is pounding Michelle every night. No disrespect, Pigeon.

Pigeon: she must have an oversized clit. because we all know an oversized clit is one step away from a guy with an undersized chode. so sayeth randall mooby. whatever happened to him?

SW: He got fired.

Pigeon: What, you’re saying she DOESN’T have an oversized clit?

Axl: Well…

Michelle: AXL!!!

Styles: Mano trying to sneak up the other side, but Thrilla jerks him off!

SW: BWAHAHAHA! And I thought Axl was the fag in this match.

Pigeon: scotty, let me borrow a vicodin. you’re obviously feeling no pain tonight.

SW: only if you let me bang whatever rat you take to your room tonight.

Pigeon: no.

SW: Can I at least watch?

Pigeon: *sigh* fine. but keep your pants on this time.

SW: No promises!

Pigeon: Now what’s the problem?

Axl: You disgust me!

Pigeon: Hey, what’s the matter with putting on a little show?

Axl: Not THAT. The fact that you have sex with RATS!

Pigeon: … And you call ME stupid?

SW: Yeah! I hope Roydz is crippled now! I’m pretty sure I could take him in a wheelchair race.

Pigeon: i highly doubt it, scotty. ken couldn’t get the full impact because he’s such a tiny little man and Roydz is a monster. physically, of course, not in the genitalia region. and i swear my wording wasn’t yet another excuse to mention that i have a giant horsecock. even though i do.

Styles: All right, that’s enough of that, Pigeon.

Axl: You weren’t out there to talk about your package! You were OUT there to shill ME. And besides, speaking of me, EVERYONE knows I’m the one with the biggest junk in the Hierarchy!

Michelle: I dunno, I’ve seen Viruz in the shower…

Axl: … You were in the men’s lockeroom shower? … Why?

Michelle: No, not the lockeroom shower. The shower here at the Residence. … I was, uhm… I walked in to use the bathroom, and… He had the curtain open.

Axl: …

Pigeon: Heheh, sure. Looks like your bro’s sharing more than a gene pool with ya, Axl.

Axl: YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!

Pigeon: if I wasn’t injured I’d beat my back pay out of him right now. Vicodin me.

SW: These don’t grow on trees, Pigeon. Though I sure wish they did!

Pigeon: i know a corrupt doctor with prescription slips. i’ll hook you up later.

SW: Sweet!

Pigeon: Now come on, you can’t POSSIBLY have a problem with THAT!

Axl: I just can’t stand a supposedly “loyal” member of this family chatting away with the ENEMY!

Pigeon: You mean Scotty? Wait… you’re STILL pissed off at him for making fun of you? Isn’t that a bit childish? Wasn’t putting him in a wheelchair enough?

Axl: He still hasn’t learned his lesson! He must suffer for his indiscretions! The travesty that is his commentary career shall be paid in full with the shedding of his blood!

Pigeon: Jesus, when you hold a grudge, you don’t mess around…

[In fast-mo, Harker does the whirly-bird, cracking the ladder into everyone’s head (in order: Ken, Roydz, Mano, Thrilla, then finally Axl). After nailing everyone, Harker collapses to his knees in slow-motion, lifts the ladder off himself, and throws it to the mat before collapsing on it, exhausted! Back to regular speed.]

Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Pigeon: now that was cool…

Pigeon: … Seriously, what was wrong with that?

Axl: How DARE you praise the work of those outside the Hierarchy! Especially when called upon to praise ME! ME, ME, ME! Do you not understand me when I say ME!?!

Pigeon: I understand you need a tic-tac…

Axl: ARGH!

Pigeon: say, scotty. Would you rather fuck anorexic looking angelina jolie or pregnant angelina jolie?

SW: Doesn’t matter to me, as long as I would be fucking Angelina Jolie. Then I could rub that fact in my arch-nemesis’s face, yes, I mean Brad Pitt, for the rest of his pathetic life. Hell, I could give her quadruplets, Brad. Your sperm are fags!

Pigeon: i actually prefer pregnant angelina. but hell, my dick’s so long, i’d probably get arrested for having sex with a fetus. wait, is that a crime? or do they have to be popped out of the womb before it’s illegal?

Styles: All right, Pigeon!

SW: Bwahaha! You are insane, Pigeon. You should really leave the Hierarchy and become the third commentator on iMPLOSION and these On-Demands!

Pigeon: if they pay me, i’ll do whatever management wants, i’m a money whore i admit it. but they only paid me enough to do this one match. so that’s all you get tonight. speaking of whoring and george carlin, he did make one great point. if fucking is legal and selling is legal, why is selling fucking illegal?

SW: I don’t know, Pigeon. I just don’t know.

Axl: And how DARE you even CONTEMPLATE becoming a commentator!

Pigeon: … But… I wasn’t? I just said I’ll do anything for money… And I also promoted the legalization of prostitution. I think.

Axl: REGARDLESS!!!

Pigeon: … Huh?

Styles: Ken just went straight into the turnbuckle as the ladder fell over.

SW: Must. Not. Do. Owen. Joke…

Pigeon: you’re terrible, scotty. i like it.

Styles: Thrilla just charged at Roydz, but Thrilla got backdropped to the floor! Mano now setting up a large ladder. Oh, what is he doing?

SW: I think Mano’s confused. This isn’t his construction job. You’re supposed to climb the ladder, not build an extension off of it.

Styles: That second ladder is now horizontal to the mat, as you can plainly see fans. I don’t know what Mano has in mind, but I’m sure somebody’s going to get hurt by this. Axl’s back up now. Axl and Mano are brawling on top of that horizontal ladder. Oh no! They both lost their balance and both just got crotched!

Pigeon: hehehehe. *Ahem*

SW: Did you just laugh?

Pigeon: of course not! why would i ever laugh at somebody who’s banging my ex-girlfriend when he just got dropped on his testicles?

Styles: Enter: Harker. Oh no. Axl is now laid out on top of Mano.

SW: Two man sandwiches in one match? Axl’s gotta be loving this match!

Pigeon: by that logic, he’s gonna love it more when he gets sandwiched by Harker and Mano in a minute.

Axl: And now, worst of all, you’re LAUGHING AT ME?! [shoves Pigeon hard into the wall, bringing his face to that of Pigeon’s] YOU BASTARD!

Pigeon: I… I… I… th-th-think… you should try some Colgate.

Axl: AAAGGGHHH!!!

Pigeon: are we even going to have any other matches tonight?

Styles: I’d assume so.

Axl: And WHAT would be so wrong with my spectacular prescence being felt throughout the night? Just imagine… three full hours of Total Non-Stop Axl!!!

Pigeon: Yeahhh… that may very well be the most boring idea I’ve ever heard.

Michelle: No… I’d say that award goes to the time I agreed to listen to you recite every poem out of ‘The Big BoB Book of Poetry’. XXXTreme’s prose was especially awefultastic…

Styles: Thrilla’s trying to climb that ladder that’s all bent to hell. Axl’s up and shoves Thrilla off onto the top rope throat first. Thrilla with a desperation move sends Axl to the floor. Now Thrilla and Axl brawling out here near us!

SW: I’m so glad Michelle didn’t stick around to see this.

Pigeon: i’m sure she’s happily occupied with one of the boys in the back on her knees in a bathroom stall to kill the time.

Michelle: Oh, I think this fucker should be tossed out for that alone!

Pigeon: Don’t worry, if something needs tossing, just call Axl. I hear he’s especially good with salad…

Axl: WHY YOU LITTLE – !!!

KF: Ladies and gentlemen, here is the winner of the Beer in the Belly Ladder Match, which guarantees him a shot at the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS at some point during the next 365 days, Axl!

SW: He shouldn’t have even been in this match! He’s already been the OWCTM!

Pigeon: you can thank michelle for that, among other things.

*CRACK*

SW: Yes! Thrilla is my new hero!

Styles: Thrilla just KO’ed Axl with a chairshot! Axl wasn’t ready for that! Thrilla’s got the beer? Thrilla’s stealing the beer!

SW: Yes! Brilliant!

Pigeon: i’d so stop him if my leg and head weren’t in such pain. damn you thrilla!

Styles: What a wild start to UnFOURgiven fans! Axl is your winner, but Thrilla’s leaving with the beer. What does it all mean?

SW: Probably a match at the next BOB-On-Demand?

[Michelle stops the tape, and Axl’s face meets with that of Pigeon… his eyes glowing brighter and hotter than the very center of the Earth itself. Axl breathes heavily, and speaks…]

Axl: Pigeon… I trusted you… and I trusted this muscled-up goon Steve, I trusted the BOTH of you to protect the Beer in the Belly Six-Pack for ME. Pigeon, you used an “injury” as an excuse not to get off your lazy, worthless ass. An injury that we both know was just a ruse to shock the fans when they later saw you come out and interfere in the ‘Enter the Vortex’ match.

Pigeon: I still can’t quite figure out the POINT of that ruse…

Axl: REGARDLESS!!!

Pigeon: …

Axl: You still refused to assist in bringing the six-pack back home… where it belongs. [Axl turns to Steve, still grabbing Pigeon by the collar…] And YOU. You were IN THE DAMN MATCH, you lunk headed oaf!!! You could have easily destroyed that beartrap-mouthed beatnik and grabbed the six-pack! But you wanna know why you didn’t? It’s because earlier in the match, you tried to grab the six-pack for YOURSELF! You both made THE single most grievous error that a member of the Hierarchy can make. [Axl turns back to Pigeon] … you put yourself before the King. While Steve went into business for himself in the ladder match, you Pigeon? You worried more about a supposed “injury” to your own fragile little frame than the ultimate good… the salvation of the gold.

Axl: As you know, there are two open slots at ‘Power is Stolen‘, for two members of the Hierarchy to take on Great and Trable for the tag title #1 contendership. Now… before all of this occured, I would have been kind. I would have been generous. When the two of you were in my good graces, you would have been handed over the opportunity on a silver platter. But now?

[Axl suddenly tosses Pigeon from the wall, through the air, and colliding into Steve, as the two topple to the floor. Axl then reaches off camera and pulls on a lever… which releases a trap door beneath the heap of Pigeon and Roydz. The two of them plummet… and plummet… and continue to plummet, until a loud *thud* is heard…]

Axl: Now? You’re going to have… “prove your worth”, so to speak.

Michelle: Huh… Never noticed that trap door till now… or that lever…

Stereo: Plot Hole #903,934 of One Million found!

Axl: Thought you turned that thing off?

Michelle: *shrugs shoulders*

Axl: [Axl turns to the pit… hmm, this appears familiar…] Boys… you’ve just entered your very first ‘Inescapable Pit of No Escape Match’! Win? And you get to face Great and Trable! Lose? … Well, I don’t think you wanna know…

Steve: GRRR!!! This makes me so mad, I could just… I could just… GRRR!!!

Pigeon: …

Axl: Allow me to introduce you to your opponent…

Garth Maul

Steve Roydz

Steve: … Shit. … GRRR!!!

[Garth Maul quickly uses one end of his double-edged lightsaber to slice Steve’s head off, before sticking the other end through his chest and sending his body soaring… and landing in a heap of dead sWo members…]

Garth Maul: Well, it’s a living.

Axl: Wait a minute… [looking down at the pit] … I see Roydz parts, but no Pigeon parts? [looks to Michelle] What gives?

Michelle: Hmm… it must be a case of JBL-Cena-Parking-Lot-itus.

Axl: … Whoozit-Huzzit-Whatzit?

Michelle: See, whenever someone meets with what appears to be CERTAIN-DOOM~!!!1tm, they… well, they vanish. And then later, they reappear without a scratch. Usually, just in time for a big pay-per-view Parking Lot Brawl match.

Axl: Wow… Imagine that. … I’m hungry.

Michelle: I’ll go pick up a couple of burgers at Lardd Hutt. Whaddya want on yours?

Axl: Mmm… How about mayonaise, sardines, gummi bears, and ragu?

Michelle: … How about ketchup?

Axl: That’ll work too. Hey, I’m gonna go speak with Viruz. I have something I need to ask him.

Michelle: Cool. See you in a bit, hun.

Axl: Bye bye, sweetie.

[Axl and Michelle share a sloppy kiss… Axl slaps Michelle on the ass as she walks off. Michelle turns and winks, as Axl smiles devilishly. Axl walks toward the door of Vi’s room… he knocks.]

Vi: [from inside] Come on in…

[Axl opens the door slightly, and looks in…]

Axl: Hey bro… I’ve got an idea, and I think you’re gonna like it.

[Axl steps inside, and shuts the door behind… as “Twisted Transistor” plays into blackness.]

|the|

—————-

Viruz

C:// _

C:// Enter … FireScape Explorer.

C:// Enter … Hierarchy MailBox…

C:// Compose.

Dear Kurt,

I’d just like to welcome you to the Hierarchy. With the deadweight now cut loose, we have a group consisting of the absolute greatest talent in the business. But not JUST a group, or a stable, or a faction…

But a family.

Axl is like the brave, noble, strong-willed, and determined father.
Michelle… the courageous, loving, nurturing, and altogether wholesome mother.
Garth is like the wise grandfather, who we can always lean on…

And I am like… Well, like the family pet. Or maybe a cousin or something. Even though I’m Axl’s brother. But that’s neither here nor there…

I just can’t tell you how much I appreciate your entrance into this family. You’re without a shadow of a doubt BoB’s greatest icon, and to have your support… well, no mere words can describe the emotions running through Axl and I when we knew YOU were on OUR side. With you backing us, noone will manage to stand in our way.

But, seeing as words cannot do our gratitude justice, we’ve decided to invite you over for dinner at the Residence of Evil, here in Sinister City. You see, Axl and I have come to an agreement concerning who should challenge Great and Trable at PiS… and we want you to be here to discuss matters concerning the On-Demand.

We look forward to your prescence here…

– Vi

p.s. – Have you ever considered changing your look? Because I’ve drawn something of a possibility for you… When you arrive, I’d like your opinion… You may be interested…

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I’m Sorry, Too!!

July 18th, 2008
Comments Off on I’m Sorry, Too!!

Kobe Gyant

Mike “The Monotone” Monroe was seated beside BOB’s newest (and highest paid!) mega-star, Kobe Gyant, in a dark studio. This must be a super special “shoot” interview! Let’s see!

<--Kobe Gyant-->

Mike, like somebody else, I asked John FIVE times to apologize to some of the BOB roster for me, you know…but he let me know that he was a real person, and I’m not, and thus, an apology wouldn’t make much sense. Then he said that he was like God, since he creates people in his image, or something. Between you and me, I think he’s a lot insane. I didn’t get it. despite my 5.0 GPA average, you know…

<--Mike Monroe-->

5.0?

<--Kobe Gyant-->

So, this is an apology to the Great, Pete Trable, and, uh…the Wendy’s guy, Dave.

<--Mike Monroe-->

Dave?

<--Kobe Gyant-->

Yeah, Dave Thomas. You see, when I was younger, one of my 50 jobs was working at a Wendy’s. And I used to use the deep fryer as a urinal, because they never fixed the urinal. But I had to support my parents, who both were on dialysis and cancer kazoos. My urine is flavorful though, you know…

Anyway, The Great, I’m sorry that one day, the world is going to find out who you really are. A fake. You think you’re great? Son, I’m so great that I’m an honorary member of the Grateful Dead. I won an award for the Greatest Great Guy. In my high school yearbook, I was voted Most Likely To Be Great. Which means there can’t be TWO greats. So we’ll have to change your name to The Second Greatest. And when it comes to not being great when compared to Kobe Gyant, you’re just the latest, you know…I really hope you can forgive me some day for overshadowing you, like Big Blaq Shaq in high school. He asked to be traded to a different high school, he was so pissed at being Second Greatest.

As for you, Trable. I hope you’ll be upset with the way mistreat you. Wigga, please. I make Pete Trable look bad just by existing. Of course, I make about 6 billion losers on this planet look bad, Trable, you’re just the latest, after the Second Greatest. I know you own about 20 throwback Kobe jerseys. Thanks for the money, dogg, I need to feed my chillens.

Now, as far as UnFOURgiven goes, I need to apologize to all the fans that I arrived too late to save the show from mediocrity. But at Power Is Stolen, Kobe will deliver championship gold for all his BOB fans.

Oh, and an apology in advance to Stephen Hawking. Once BOB books the dream match of the year, it’s gonna be real simple, Hawking. What has four wheels and flies? A dead cripple in a wheelchair. You’re gonna be that corpse.

Kobe begins snacking on a green tree leaf for some reason.

<--Kobe Gyant-->

I’ve been e-fedding for 18 years, son. I was out-RPing people since I was in the womb. I came out of my mom, grabbed the keyboard and mouse off her desk, then went back inside. There’s an old Apple keyboard on my sonogram, you know…

Kobe holds up the sonogram to the camera. Mike stares at it in disbelief.

<--Kobe Gyant-->

I won’t soon be retiring, though, BOB fans, don’t worry. I doubt I’ll end my career here, though, ’cause BOB can only afford Kobe for so long before he needs a GYANT raise. And when I leave, y’all will hate me. I’m here to make enemies and ruin your lives as you realize you can’t beat Kobe Gyant.

Damn, this leaf is tasty. Give me another new one, Mike.

Mike does. Off-screen, there is a roar. The camera pans to the right to reveal a grizzly bear! Kobe grabs his steel folding chair and charges at the bear! BEAR-SHOT! Grizzly goes down.

<--Kobe Gyant-->

Just another day in the life, you know. Bears are a national menace, you know. Colbert says so. Don’t interrupt my new leaf eating, Yogi! Anyway, sorry everyone in BOB for being the biggest, the best, and better than the rest. You’ve got a future of losing matches though as long as I’m here. You play checkers, I play chess, checkers, spades, poker, and Twister at the same time, and still beat everyone.

Hyphen Kobe!

<--Mike Monroe-->

Hyphen Kobe?

<--Kobe Gyant-->

It’s a parody, Mike, you know…

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Pre-Match Meal

July 7th, 2008
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The Great

(The Great is at his dinner table, surrounded by his family and Pete Trable. This isn’t a fable. Join them to eat if you’re able. Big Daddy V used to be Mable. Scene set-up written by Pete Trable.)

“The Great”: Pete, that was terrible! The Great is moments away from the biggest match in The Great’s career, The Great needs to squeeze in a killer promo to tilt the booker’s decision to The Great’s favor, and you start us off with a weak, lame intro.

XFactor Pete Trable

Pete: Yo, it’s what was on the index card. I be gettin a lot of lame ass index cards lately, yo.

The Great’s wife: Pete! There’s kids at the table!

Pete: Sorry, ma’am. Could you pass some of that Roast Beef flavored Top Ramen?

The Great’s wife: Certainly! I slaved over this all evening, I hope you enjoy!

“The Great”: Slaved? There’s not even any meat in this!

The Mother in Law: Whah whah whuh whuh WHAH.

“The Great”: What? The Grand Slam match is already written so all this is a watse of time? What are you talking about?

The Mother In Law: Whah whah whah WHUH WHUH WHUH whahwhah whuh.

“The Great”: You read a message in Vent Your Spleen on the Brawlers on a Budget forums? This promo is useless because the outcome is already decided?

The Mother in Law: whuh.

Pete: Steve Studnuts already did a promo, yo. Prior to any messages on the Vent, knowwhatI’msayin? He gonna take it.

“The Great”: Nonsense, that is only possible by assuming the match is predetermined, written and saved on a hard drive somewhere, just waiting to get posted on a website, and that The Great is not flying out Tuesday night, BACK to UnFOURgiven to compete in the main even after having to fly out there once already to do a run-in during Part 1.

The Great’s wife: YEAH! The better reimbuse you for flying out there twice!

Lori: Dad? What’s a run-in?

“The Great”: The Great had to save Pete at the end of his match, because Axl INSISTof having a program with The Great and is doing everything in his power to make it happen. He called The Great non-stop for several days trying to get Nick involved in his storylines and wanting to work The Great in a main event feud. The Great wonders what made Axl think he was main event worthy. The Great said The Great wasn’t interested, thanks but no thanks and Axl persisted. The Great finally had to ignore Axl because everytime The Great tried to politely decline, Axl would come back and contradict everything he said to The Great the previous time and ask again. The Great still said no, and now The Great is running off Axl and Steve Roydz with a chair and staring at Axl like The Great wants to throw down. Needless to say, this happened on the portion of UnFOURgiven that Axl is booking. The Great is not happy with this.

Pete: YOU?! I had to take a superkick from that pillah bitah and play dead, yo!

“The Great”: The Great feels your pain. Axl, read The Great’s lips:
The Great is not interested in feuding with you! The Great is trying to concentrate—-
on the Grand Slam Finale.

With you, The Great wishes not to associate.
Your punch lines are 5 seconds too late.
The feelings are turning to hate.
Apologize, before it’s too late.

Pete: Yo, that wasn’t half bad for a white guy.

Little Johnny: Quite lovely. May we please eat dinner now? My stomach is churning like the tides of a tsunami and I have a multitude of tasks to complete before bedtime.

Nick: Ah, you don’t have nothing to do!

The Great’s wife: Boys! Don’t start that at dinner!

Little Johnny: I DO have something to do, the Father asked me to accomplish a little job for him. With pinpoint accurate GPS coordinates, a sattelite beam refracting light off Uranus—

The Great’s wife: JOHNNY!

Little Johnny: —-and a smidge luck, it just might work.

“The Great”: You’re that confident, son?

Little Johnny: Why, yes, sperm donor. The luck is the tricky part, but I think I can arrange it that the next time Axl goes to type an angle with him and you, and we’ll know this by a device counting precise keystrokes, his hands will evaporate.

“The Great”: That would be great.

Nick: Ha! Less of him to hate!

Pete: Yo, he could no longer masturbate.

Lori: T.M.I., Pete! That’s T.M.I.!

(end)

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The Great gets ready for Implosion Eight

May 31st, 2008
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The Great

(In St. Louis, Missouri, The Great has called for a “family meeting.” The wife deeply sighs, the kids moan, the Mother in Law says, “Whah whah whuh, WHAH?” and Pete Trable pretty much says the same thing, which was, “What da f—k, n—–a?”.

Regardless of the unwillingness, everybody attends the meeting. They are all lined up on the couch, from left to right:

The wife, 15 year old Lori, 10 year old Nick, Pete Trable, 5 year old Johnny, and the Mother in Law, who now wishes to be known as O.G. Granny Master Flash, wearing a bathrobe, a large gold chain, sunglasses (Blu-Blockers) and a black leather pimp hat. The Great paces in front of them. )

“The Great”: As you all well know, The Great survived The Royal Flush Rumble and has advanced to the final eight of the Grand Slam Tournament. The Great was fortunate to draw a very lucky entry into the Rumble, and avoided disaster when the Pete Trable cyborg as a weapon fiasco went awry.

Little Johnny: Ah yes. This we must discuss. Did I not inform you that purified water minus electrolytes was absolutely paramount in initiating the regeneration process? You used electrolyte-enhanced water, didn’t you?

“The Great”: The Great is not sure. The Great used bottled water and The Great didn’t really bother to read the ingredients. The Great didn’t think water had ingredients other than clearness and liquid. Water is water.

Little Johnny: NO! Water is most certainly NOT water, you imbecile! Now, thanks to your blundering on national television, I’ve been made a fool. I’ve been exposed, unjustly, as a charlatan whose creations do not work. How do you suppose I’m going to be invited to the Evil Geniuses of Genocidal Inventions Conventions for the late September, early October sessions? I’ll be ridiculed!

XFactor Pete Trable

Pete: Ridiculed? Damn, yo, you don’t even know ridicule until you’re naked in front of a crowd and they be chantin’, “You got shrinkage.”

Lori: Hmmm, I don’t know about that. They used a lot of pixilation. Hee hee!

Little Johnny: No, they really didn’t. You did have shrinkage, Peter. I’ve seen children in Pre-K, getting their diapers changed, more hung than you.

Pete: YO! What up wit dat?!

The Mother in Law: Whurd!

“The Great”: Son, The Great apologizes. The Great needed a weapon and The Great couldn’t think of one right away.

Little Johnny: Father, there are times I’m embarrassed to be of your loins. I’ve not even completed my calculations with the cyborg pills, they’re not even ready for use. Otherwise, nimwit, I’d have conquered the world by now. And then you go and use that generic, DIRTY water. It’s a wonder there wasn’t a dangerous chain reaction from incongruent ingredients that caused a mutated side effect even I couldn’t remedy. I swear, there are times I think I could remove your brain, shove it up a gnat’s rectum, shake the gnat violently, and you brain would ricochet around in there like an Air-Soft pellet in Epcot Center.

“The Great”: Son? You’re headed for a spanking, young man.

Little Johnny: I’m sorry! Please forgive me, Father. I’m just really upset right now.

“The Great”: Well, so is The Great. Very upset. The Great’s next match is an encounter with Dr. Thrilla, The Swiss Army Champion. If The Great is victorious, The Great goes on to the final match at UnFOURgiven. But that has not upset The Great. What has upset The Great is that The Great has been accused of forcing some family members, namely “a son”, into Brawlers on a Budget promos, and has been called an abomination of a man for doing such.

Little Johnny: What in the blue flames of Hades is Brawlers on a Budget?

The Great’s wife: It’s that STUPID wrestling thing your dad is doing INSTEAD of getting a REAL second job so we can get LOTS of THINGS we NEED.

Little Johnny: Oh, is that why that strange man snuck into my room the other night? He was an employee of a wrestling promotion? What a relief, I thought it was a Catholic priest trying to cop some video footage of me convalescing in my Jimmy Neutron briefs.

“The Great”: Okay, that’s just about enough of that. The Great says Johnny needs to—-

Nick: Know his role and shut his mouth?

“The Great”: Um, no. The Great is putting Johnny on the back burner. Johnny? Quit talking so much. This is about The Great. Not the Great’s family.

The Great’s wife: Oh no! Hold on a minute! For Christ’s sake. JESUS! For Christ’s sake! It’s ALWAYS about the family!

“The Great”: Not this time. This time, it’s about The Great. The Great is putting The Great’s foot down. The Great needs to be devoid of distraction. The Great, needs to concentrate. The Great, needs to evaluate. The Great, needs to formulate. Then, The Great will dominate.

(The Great directly faces the camera)

“The Great”: Dr. Thilla. You’ve been placed into a very precarious position. On the one hand, you could become the first man in the Brawlers on a Budget to defeat The Great. On the other, you could become the first, of many, men The Great has taken a championship from. The Great assumes a D.Q. win for The Great is not good enough. Only the champions make it to the Grand Slam Finale, and titles don’t switch on D.Q.’s as The Great learned against Death. Therefore, one of us is getting pinned or submitted. One way or the other, Dr. Thrilla, wrestling The Great will make you famous.

Nick: Dad?

“The Great”: Yeah, son?

Nick: Am I still allowed to talk in your promo things?

“The Great”: The Great supposes so.

Nick: Good. Can I have a X-Station Wii60 and The Vortex?!

“The Great”: Shit! MEETING ADJOURNED!

(As the family members scamper in various directions, O.G. Granny Master Flash stands in front of Pete Trable and opens her bathrobe. )

Pete: DAMN, YO! Where dat pixilation at, dogg! Granny Master FLASH, fo’ sho’!

The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh whuh whah whah.

Pete: What? I showed you mine, you show me yours? Yo, I didn’t show you, I was at a wrestling show, girl! Back dat train up!

The Mother in Law: Whuh whah?

Pete: Oh, HELL NAH! Not DAT train!

Lori: MOM! Granny’s rump shaking again!

The Great’s wife: Mom, stop shaking your rear at Pete! Mom? MOTHER! Stop that right now!

(Cut to commercial.)

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Direct Provocation

May 30th, 2008
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Mr. Paradox

*In a low-rent apartment in South Dakota, Mr. Paradox is gluing the plaster statue of Godzilla 2000 back together after the Stonecutter delivered to it at iMPLOSION. He is wearing a particle mask and goggles, but his eyes are still visible and narrow with anger.*

Mr. Paradox: God damn it. StompTokyo will have my legs broken for this one.

Dr. Thrilla

*Elsewhere in the apartment, presumably in a room not reached by the fumes and plaster dust, Dr. Thrilla is polishing his beartrap, wearing his Thrilla Life outfit, as Cecil sorts a set of index cards. He turns to the camera and begins to clang.*

Dr. Thrilla: *rhythmic, threatening metal clanging*

Cecil: The doctor notes that his next match will be against the Great. He has this to say.

Dr. Thrilla: *obscene, angry metal clanging*

Cecil: Any man who would force his own son to appear in BOB promos is an abomination of a human being. The Great does not deserve a chance at any titles.

Dr. Thrilla: *threatening metal clanging*

Cecil: When the Doctor is through with you, you’d best hope your son has good decision-making skills, because he’ll be sending you to a nursing home.

Dr. Thrilla: *mocking metal clanging*

Cecil: And to Pete Trable, you make ICP look like the Beastie Boys. You haven’t done a decent rap song since the days you still feuded with Atomo.

Dr. Thrilla: *flashes a gang sign, concluding metal clanging*

Cecil: Peace.

*In the main room, the statue is now repaired, and Mr. Paradox turns to the camera, still in particle mask and goggles.*

Mr. Paradox: Trey, Kevin… I’m thinking of making a bet with Dr. Plants. We pick one of you, he uses a scalpel, I use a sword, and the one who leaves his target less recognizable wins. I don’t make bets I can’t win, either…

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