Bobby Bourbon puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like everybody else.

Unlike everybody else, he's the Hart Champion and Warfare MVP.

MORNING COFFEE

We see Robbie sitting at a table in the massive galley aboard his ship. Behind him we see an array of windows, each with an impeccable view of the cosmos, all divided by cleverly placed ficus. Surrounding Bobby are the assembled members of B.O.B. and the Bourbon Men. Thunder Knuckles, the relentless one, is beside Bobby, both of them rocking "Blockhead" t-shirts in homage to Johnny Legend. Money Oswald, the wealthiest man in the universe, Jenny Myst, the debonair destroyer, Miss Fury, the true mastermind of the XWF, and Michael Graves, master of the dark arts are seated with Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Ash, Robbie's stylist, Fuchsia, rockin' space babe, Guy Fieri, right mayor of Flavortown, Danny DeVito, crossover BourBOB Man, Biscuits, a house cat the size of a van, and Buck Ventura, representative from the Confederation of Interplanetary Systems.

It's a big table.

They're also seated just like this.







Bobby is in the middle. He's sipping a cup of coffee.

Captain, here's your morning briefing.

Bobby, still half awake, nods.

Cool.

There's a sale on cheese at Wegman's.

There's also a sale at Bath and Body Works.

Oh?

Yeah!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We cut to see Bath and Body Works inside of one of the few remaining but still consistently common indoor malls in the world. Fuchsia holds up a small bottle and sniffs it.

I like this. Hidden Lavender.

Ooh. Have you smelled the Malibu Breeze? I like this one.

I know, they have all the good smelling hand sanitizers!

Why didn't Miss Fury come?

Maybe she doesn't mind regular hand sanitizer.

Hey, guys!

Bobby struts into the scene holding a bottle of hand sanitizer held maybe a centimeter from his nose as he catches a whiff of it's aroma and grins.

Hunter's Pine! I like this!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I have a rash.

Gross.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We cut to see Michael Graves in his finest silk pajamas and mask, sleeping in a luxury California king. Beside him in the room is Bobby. He whispers.

You piece of shit, steal my truck!

Bobby reaches onto the floor and picks up a box that is plain white with the words "Wood Ticks" printed on it equally as plainly which is a very peculiar box to behold. He turns it upside down, and a whole quart, or a quarter of a whole gallon, of ticks fall onto Graves as he sleeps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby sips his coffee.

I bought a solid gold letter opener, and I just burn my mail anyway because the smell is exquisite.

Nice.

Bobby smiles at Oswald and sips his coffee, tipping his mug to the man after a sip, careful not to spill any.

We should be at headquarters!

I am.

This is your headquarters, not B.O.B. HQ!

I don't even know where that is!

Miss Fury glares at Diamondback.

You. Weren't. Even. Invited.

Diamondback blushes as Miss Fury half smirks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We'll be fine, they went to Bath and Body Works.

What?

Look, it's okay, you have a life away from Bobby, don't you?

Well, I guess...

Miss Fury yanks Diamondback into a nearby room and slams the door shut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Them two were banging last night.





Danny DeVito gestures towards Diamondback and Miss Fury. Bobby's eyes widen as he sips his coffee.

Shut your mouth, DeVito, or else you'll have to fight Joe Pesci to keep your spot in B.O.B.

Okay, I'll shut up. I just thought Bobby should know, it's the morning briefing.

Thanks Danny.

Bobby sips his coffee.

Seriously, about the cheese at Wegman's, can we go back to that?

We'll go to Wegman's and get cheese.

Guy Fieri, Cyberjaw, Diamondback, TK, and Oswald seem psyched, some of them doing slight fist pumps and the like.

Sweet, we're going to find the next evolution in nachos in space.

Nachos in space. I like it.

Oh, hey, I had an idea!

Cool!

Bobby sets his empty coffee cup down.

So, Derrick Diamond said if any of us got involved in your next match, you'd be stripped of your title.

He did.

Well, what if someone who wasn't even in B.O.B. interfered in your match?

Go on...

Well, I think we both know of someone who'd be perfect in B.O.B.

TK and Bobby look at the screen, showing off their "BLOCKHEAD" t-shirts.

Johnny Legend, look, I like you.

We like you.

Yeah, we like you.

So we want you to join B.O.B.

You aren't a member yet, though.

No, you just gotta come interfere in Bobby's match Wednesday, then we'll let you in.

Now, I don't really need help winning.

Of course you don't!

Of course I don't.

I mean, it wouldn't hurt.

True, but do I need? No. Not against these two mooks. Diamond thinks this is a punishing gesture, like I'm getting penalized for last Wednesday just because you happened to fall asleep in a casket.

Oh yeah, I know. It's a miracle I wasn't in those other caskets! I mean, I sleep in coffins all the time, it makes me feel as powerful as a vampire, and those other caskets you and Wizard broke sure looked appealing. It's really fortunate that I chose the one I did!

You said it. Plus, it isn't like I planned on getting chokeslammed through a casket. That was kinda rough.

But all that aside, I'm not getting punished.

The office is just tidying up some loose ends.

Somehow both Greggo and Kieran earned themselves shots at the Hart Championship.

So to make sure they're not eligible to contend for the title, they're just letting me loose on them in a fucking ladder match. Is it going to be hard? Yeah, ladder matches are excruciating, painful fucking ordeals that wear on you, man!

Even against lumps of human flesh like Greggo and Kieran Overton.

First off, there's Greggo.

The greatest achievment in Greggo's life is that he lost his virginity at one point, or so he says. Greggo's parents also lost their v-cards and nobody is really impressed with the results there.

Seriously, how did Lacklan's overhyped hype man, hypeception, land a shot at the Hart Championship? The dude it a complete and utter fucking tool. I'ma call Greggo 'the Philips' because he is a tool, because the only twist coming is slotted and scouted by four simple prongs, and because he's not as interesting as a whole set of Allen wrenches and in a fight against me he's just screwed.

Then, welly well, we have Kieran Overton.

Congrats, Kieran, here's your moment to shine in the spotlight.

You'll someday tell your friends, your loved ones, and anybody else who will listen while you're on your death bed that you personally went to Wednesday Night Warfare and got your ass kicked at the same time as a manager by the Hart Champion.

You're looking at a brand new career high after our match. You'll finally achieve something in this business and within this company in front of the whole Universe. You'll achieve heights that nobody ever gave you any chance of ever reaching.

You'll be the janitor of this company.

Finally taking out garbage instead of being it.

Barney Green rides in on a triceratops. This is a big room.

I found this. Someone tried to throw it away.

Cool.

I'm keeping it.

Awesome, I'm glad you will.

I'm the garbage man.

I know, Barney, I know. Nobody is replacing you in this organization or the next. You are going to outrank Kieran, a guy so shitty he's used diapers.

Kiki, you're going into this match with a 'might as well' attitude, Derrick booked you in this match with a 'might as well' attitude, and when the fans are tasked to watch your promos or matches, they're just saying to themselves 'might as well' because they've already gone and took a piss during Greggo's airtime and bought themselves a fresh beer during the commercial break.

So, fellas, take your pick, set it up however you want. Who's the pitcher, and who's the catcher here? I don't mean that in some homoerotic way, though if you want me shove one of y'alls heads up the other's ass I can, will, and must for the sake of the people and the one true B.O.B., since I am the hand of B.O.B. almighty. No, no, one of you can call the pitch from behind the plate, one of you can wind up, and you both can try to coordinate to figure out how you're going to strike out the big time slugger when I come up to bat. Once I knock it out of the park with the big lumber, the fans all satisfied when they see another home run by Bourbon and the home team wins again, and you both have your heads hung, realizing you both choked away your shots in stereo, against the Warfare MVP and master of baseball analogies, you guys can go about your lives, whatever the fuck they're worth to you.

See, climbing to the top of that ladder is so much easier when you're already the top of the food chain.