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Current XWF board time: 10-26-2021, 09:35 PM (time should display as Pacific time zone; please contact Admin if it appears to be wrong)                                                                
X-treme Wrestling Federation BOARDS » Warfare Boards » "Wednesday Warfare" RP Board
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Dusk
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Bobby Bourbon Offline
No Good Bastard



XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

(booed by casual fans; opportunistic; often plays dirty while setting the trends)


Post: #1
10-12-2021 10:34 PM

Bobby and TK are lounging in the XWF video archives. Jimmy is supposed to meet them there for a game plan.

Fuck bro, somebody about to get their asses thoroughly whooped.

Woah, woah, Bobby, we gotta do a story…

We’ll get to doing a fucking story in a minute bro. This shit needs to get off my chest and get off right the fuck now. For starters, to the assembled XWF Universe, our people, we come to you with heavy heads and heavy hearts that we did not retain the OCW Tag Team Championships, because we were outright fucking robbed of them in a farce of a match so fucking bogus...

Universal Studios would be ashamed.

It’s like fake dog shit. It’s shit, but someone was stupid enough to pay money for it. We were screwed out of our Tag Team Titles all on account of one petty fool named Mario who’s due for the biggest fucking beat down in his life. Riddle, Cashe, I’m unimpressed, it took both of you and a third to accomplish highway robbery to steal back leather and green, but not a fucking championship. I’m not fucking around, OCW wanted a fucking war? Hell came to them in a helicopter, didn’t it? Day late and a dollar short for yours truly and the Relentless Legend, but that’s just a day and a dollar, babe.

And I love fucking money that dollar was mine!

I know, and that’s your two cents.

No, Cent beat up Chris Page with a chair and didn’t even lift a finger when it mattered.

Bobby swiftly shakes his head.

What were you talking about?

I fucking forgot, bro, I had a fucking thing rolling.

Well go back to it.

It, grah! It went away! The steam went away as soon as you brought up Chris Page. The heat sink; as hot as you can get with a crowd, guarantee Chris Page will show up to cool them all off so they find their cars as fast as possible to beat traffic.

You know that pudgy fuck has challenged Theo to some kinda turn off the lights, im working for free, going back on the very notion he wouldnt rassle on XWF TV anymore, or bullshit at Bad Medicine? HA! Proof Robert Main can’t get it done! Anyway, fucking Page is all over the goddamn Twitter now because some shit brick taught his ass technology.

TK gives the camera the middle finger for whoever did that.

He’s just whining up a goddamn storm.

TK clears his throat and begins speaking like a sniveling child.

“Theo you’re a big dumb dumb because I lost my career.”

All while Theo is all like,


TK clears his throat again to begin sounding like an insurance commercial voice-over.

“Page, I’m a proper cunt and now you're properly fucked.”

Bobby looks at TK confused as Hell.

What’s this got to do with anything?

Nothing. I just figured since we came back 20 pounds lighter, ya know, we could at least inform all the fucking mouthbreathers in the back of whats been happened.

Good point.

Right, like how now we are standing side by side with the likes of Alias, Doc, Jim Ceadus, and yes, Betsy Granger.

Well, comrades in arms we may be, but we still got fans to entertain, and flat out, if you didn’t ride with us, you best run from us! So that leads us to, oh yeah, Mark Flynn. Fuck. That guy got ripped off in a title match recently too, and he’s not a bad guy. He has contacts within some clandestine organization, he’s got a dopey pal he has to explain things to while on the road…

I could never fucking put up with that shit.

Bobby looks dead ass at the camera.

It’s not so bad.

He’s not alone, though, Bobby, he’s got a fucking War Criminal with him!

That guy’s about as harmful as used mattress from a hotel, only dangerous if you sleep on him. It’s kinda sad, though, you see all these campaigns and stuff on the news, and I think we’ve all visited https://stopaapihate.org/ with a heavy heart, and here’s a guy who is exploiting just everything that that whole movement is against. Tsk tsk, Mark, the way you abuse that poor helpless refugee.

Wait… The War Criminal is a refugee? We’ll just let anyone in this mother fucker these days!

As TK finishes his sentence Jimmy bust open the door.

What are you guys doing?!

TK looks over at Bobby then to Jimmy.

We’re just fucking talking, bro.

You need to be working! Mark Flynn and North Korean War Criminal are no slouches!

Mark Flynn is a phenomenal slouch!

Wait… He’s a War Criminal from North Korea?

YES! HOW DON’T YOU KNOW THIS!?

TK shrugs for exactly as long as Shawn Warstein would if Shawn Warstein was given information about Shawn Warstein.

I’m just surprised we’re fucking letting in all this fucking trash into America.

Will you guys please just get to the fucking story! People love a good story.

We’re fucking bloodsport gladiators, Jimmy, not some silly storytellers. Go take a lap.

I’m serious guys!

Me too, take a lap.

Jimmy, defeated, walks out the door, one could only imagine he is taking a lap.

Okay, now let’s go make that awesome programming for BastardNet.

Yeah!

[Image: R3ykeVo.png]

BastardNet presents...

[Image: WC6QZpz.png]



We cut to the visage of ClubBOB The Bastard’s Den, the strip club opened by TK and Bobby a few months ago. The signage out front explains the packed parking lot at this lone roadhouse in the middle of nowhere. "Halloscream Gala!" the LED scroll begins. "Special Guest Tonight: Vita Valenteen" follows, which has surely attracted not only pro-wrestling fans, but probably the vampire people too. You know, the sort that LARP and roleplay like a bunch of dorks acting like it's real. Ahem. "World's Biggest Hot Dog Buffet!!!" scrolls along, which to some is icing on the cake, but to others is the main course. We see Thunder Knuckles standing outside, dressed like the Wolfman, classic Lon Chaney variety, not the nouveau horror monster kind. He's on his phone.

For fucks sakes, Jimmy, just get your ass down here, we need a dishwasher tonight because the other guy called out.

TK pauses as he listens. He rolls his eyes then uses his hand to emphasize how Jimmy is yammering about some such he’s not interested in hearing.

I don’t care that you’re still in London and your flight got delayed. Call Ozzy to teleport you!

TK hangs up. He puts what appears to be a professionally roled joint in his mouth and lights it. He stands for a moment before a portal opens beside him. Jimmy stumbles out, and as soon as he does vomits all over the ground.

Fucking hell!

Jimmy wipes his mouth and regains his bearings.

That always makes my stomach turn.

Quit puking all over my god damned parking lot! Get in there, we need the dishes cleaned!

Jimmy gets to it as he hustles inside, lest he feel the wrath of the back of TK's hand. TK slowly makes his way to the door, nods at the doorman, and enters. The place is jam packed, and the sounds of strip club rock are drowning out every other noise that could occur. Dollars spill into the sky towards dancers lithely defying gravity with the aide of poles. TK scans the room and furrows his brow.

Shit. Is he still…

TK makes his way across the floor of the club as the girls working the floor are adorned in a bevy of different costumes. Sexy nurse. Sexy cop. Sexy insurance sales lead. Sexy chimney sweep. Sexy pirate. Sexy social worker. Sexy district attorney. Sexy accountant. Sexy retail worker. Sexy poultry farmer. They’re all very sexy, and you definitely touched your own junk when you saw the sexy lawnmower repair specialist, she was that sexy and maybe even caused you a personal sexual identity crisis. Once past the main area, TK tiptoes down a hall, for no real apparent reason, and presses the signal button at an elevator. The cab opens, and TK moseys inside. Again, no real reason he's changing up the way he walks, or so we can tell. He presses the button to take him to the third floor, home of the World's Largest Hot Dog Buffet. TK stares intently at the sign in the elevator telling him how it is illegal to smoke within, takes a hefty drag off of his joint, then gives his absolutely incredible and one-of-a-kind jerking off hand motion. The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. TK steps out and we see the hot dog buffet, dimly lit with Jack-O-Lanterns and purple Christmas string lights adorning the room. Guests are availing themselves to the buffet, including the special Halloween additions to the buffet. Pumpkin Spice Hot Dogs, along with a special Candy Corn relish and actual Pink Slime are all on display with huge vibrant signage beside it with nary a soul brave enough to eat such shit near it. In one corner, dressed like a grumpy looking Herman Munster, or maybe a regular looking Frankenstein's Monster, is Bobby Bourbon, a plate with three dogs on it in front of him. Monster or Munster, Bobby is mostly just looking at the food in front of him. TK approaches.

What’s up big guy?

Those pumpkin spice hot dogs were a terrible idea.

Well, yeah. You didn't eat the pink slime, did you?

Bobby doesn't even look up at TK.

I thought it was cotton candy mustard. Interesting flavor, distinct hints of meat byproduct.

Are you still mad about London.

Fuck yeah I am! We got robbed bro!

I know, you were talking about it earlier.

Bobby sighs.

That’s not all. Jim seems to be implying I lost weight! I didn't! I'm still the same strapping superheavyweight I've always been. Heck, I've even gained weight. I'm now at two-hundred and ninety one pounds since I lost my mask to Betsy.

No shit!

I am that much more of an athlete these days.

Bobby lifts a hot dog from the plate. It seems decorated with some melted cheese-like substance, real soy bacon bits, and sliced fresh organic jalapeños, which are healthy for you. He bites into it and slowly chews, still looking somewhat sluggish and down.

Bro, do you want a little cocaine, cheer you up?

Bobby shrugs.

Yeah, but I shouldn't. I'm trying to avoid the stigma of being into…

Bobby does air quotes.

"Weight loss" or…

More air quotes.

"Being thin" and Colombian Marching Powder is the fast track to becoming just that. Didn’t you see what it did to Rebel Wilson? She went from sorta hot to afraid not.

You have weird taste in women bro.

I know what I like.

As Bobby says this he takes another bite of his hot dog. He places it down on the plate.

Well, we're still the XWF Tag Team Champions, and fuck, those are the ones that matter, remember? Fuck, the only reason the OCW Tag Titles are even relevant right now is because of us being XWF Tag Team Champs.

Damn right!

Bits of mashed up hot dog, topping, and bun fly out of Bobby’s mouth as he slams his fist on the table, causing his plate of hot dogs to almost leap into the air. One hot dog, dressed with cole slaw, halved grape tomatoes, gnocci, and a fine dijon mustard, rolls off the plate and lands topside down. Bobby looks at it and groans. More mashed up hot dog paste spews from his mouth.

C'mon, let’s go down, find us a dummy thicc stripper, and get you a lap dance.

You wouldn't let me hire the dummy thicc ones.

I know, bro, because fat chicks would make the club look bad, but now I know we need something with meat on her bones to cater to those with refined tastes.

Bobby and TK exchange a no-look fistbump as Bobby shoves the last of his mostly eaten hot dog into his mouth. He gets up from his seat, ignoring the dog loaded with scrambled eggs, salsa verde, and sautéed mushrooms. Jimmy walks up with a bus tub ready to clean. Bobby and TK walk through the dining area and back toward the elevator. TK boops the button.

You gotta see this one girl, though. Sexy lawnmower repair specialist.

Oh yeah?

Instant knock-out, bro. Premature ejaculation was invented just for her.

Kinda gross but okay.

The elevator doors open and TK and Bobby enter. TK signals for the ground floor and takes another puff of his joint.

I don’t think you're supposed to do that in here.

Yeah, better not tell the fucking owners.

Bobby and TK share a laugh as the doors open on the ground floor. Bobby and TK step out and MC Barney Green gets on the microphone.

Ladies and gentlemen, tonights feature dancer. Careful guys, she does bite, but she will suck you dry, the one, the only, Vita Valenteen!

The lights go dark. From behind the stage deep red lights glow, and we see the silhouette of Vita. The lights come up, and dressed like Vampirella, we see Vita. The crowd roars as After Dark as performed by Tito and Tarantula starts to play. Vita slowly traipses along the stage, though there is a distinction as to why she's walking this way juxtaposed to TK's antics from earlier. The crowd is absolutely stunned in silence, sweet and innocent Vita has become the sultry and seductive before your very eyes. Her movements are deliberate, smooth, and almost carefully chosen as everyone is agog, the bouncing staff and bartender included. Jaws are left hanging and slack as Barney smiles and nods, who beside Bobby and TK is one of the few souls still maintaining a sense of composure. Vita bridges backward, then slowly descends to her knees while still bridged. Moving with the fluidity of a cobra, she brings herself up and slowly downward, facing the crowd as she spreads her knees. The tantalizing beauty of what is happening even has the other dancers seemingly impressed. Vita slowly rolls onto her back, her head still towards the edge of the stage, and she raises her legs, crossing them at the knees, resembling some classic pin-up posture as she takes a deep heaving breath. Small beads of sweat glisten across her body, glowing crimson in the light. She plants her feet, and slowly brings herself to a standing position in some feat of body contortion that borders on the supernatural. She points into the crowd and a man stands, pointing to himself. She beckons for him, slowly rotating her wrist and curling her pointer fjnger to herself. The guy haplessly climbs onto the stage, usually a no-no, but the security staff is way too transfixed to do anything to stop it. The man stands on the stage and pivots, facing outward. Vita approaches him from behind, placing her right hand in his chest, snaking some fingers past the buttons of his flannel. She leans in and sniffs his neck, then licks it. The guy shudders uncontrollably, accepting this graciously. With that, a loud bang is heard as the front doors burst open wide. Vita looks incredulously at the doors with her fangs bared, and we cut to Bobby and TK. They look frustratedly at the group who just cut in.

This den of sin will be shut down, and that monstrosity will be slain!

The leader of the group, wearing a garland of garlic, holds up a cross.

Death to the undead!

Oh shit, fucking vampire hunters?

Bobby looks less than pleased.

Wrong night, wrong club.

[Image: R3ykeVo.png]

Bobby and TK are standing in the World's Largest Hot Dog Buffet, dressed as Frankenstein's Monster and the Wolfman.

We’ve been on a fucking run, haven’t we? With the letters TNGB on our backs and while ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles has been smoking his weed in the sun. Wind in our faces, not looking back. Our heart beats harder than a thousand drums. While guys like Mark Flynn and North Korean War Criminal are hunting our XWF Tag Team Championships.

TK and Bobby hold their XWF Tag Team Championships high. Showing they are still the greatest force in the tag team division.

They’re coming to apply pressure, we’re going to do what we always fucking do and keep it together. Theres no time for error now, nope not after fucking London, there no time for goddamn error. It’s time to live our way while burning down the mother fucking highway! Flynn and that fucking War Criminal want to put us in our graves on October twentieth.

TK looks over at Bobby and rolls his eyes at the thought of Mark Flynn and NK taking down the Bastards on the twentieth.

Well, this shit I can promise you and promise you now goddammit, we will not surrender. Us No Good Bastards would rather fucking die than give up these beautiful new Tag Team Championships. We went through Hell to get them and I’ll be damned if a chuckle fuck cuck like Mark Flynn or a freedom hating goddamned Korean taken them.

Bobby and TK give their famous no-look fist bump.

We got freedom in our veins and the fighting spirit that God gave us. The people in this business label us bad guys because they can’t tame us. We’re going to go to war for these boys. OCW pushed us to our goddamn limits, now we’re on fucking fire. They want to push the XWF to our limits, well, now it’s goddamn time to rise. So get ready for the fucking ride, Mark, Criminal, because you wont take us down. You two are now wanted-

Dead or Alive.

Everyone wants to see us fucking fall, but we don’t die. You better come hard if you’re going to try. It’s Us No Good Bastards against the goddamn world with money on our fucking heads. We’ve seen the fucking Devil on our heels now we’re living on the damn edge. Now we’re riding on fucking shadows coming at you and leave a trail of fire. There is no escaping this bastardly judgement on Warfare.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, Brother Knuckles. No escape, no quarter, no shelter, not a single fucking ounce of recompense for these fools come Wednesday Night. Mark, you've done yourself one hell of a bother getting yourself into this mess, and dragging North Korean War Criminal into this sure isn't doing you a shred of benefit. We're not coming to rebound from the shit that went down in London, and by the way, nice of you two to stay home instead of charging across enemy lines. War Criminal might have rank in Pyongyang but who knew he was just a fucking clerk in this war. We’re not coming to save face to just the fans and the boys in the back. We are coming to Warfare to do what we've been doing all year long and what we will continue to do until we get tired of it, and that’s beat the hell out of whoever gets trotted out in front of us.

TK nods to Bobby in solidarity.

We have come to fucking prove that we stay and fight no matter the odds. They want to take the goddamn ground from beneath us and we know they’re fucking praying to our godddamn maker to take us. We know they want to slow us down, Hell, even knock us the fuck out. Unfortunately for them we are not going down goddamn easy.

We are not going down at all, bro. They’ll have to take these XWF Tag Team Championships from our cold, dead fucking hands, and no matter what they throw at us, we just don’t fucking die. Goonies never say die.

Are we fucking Goonies now?

Yes. We’re Goonies. I’m Sloth, you’re Chunk.

Cool. We should do that for BastardNet.

Later.

Yeah, not now, we’re doing our Halloween shit.

The scene fades to black as Them No Good Bastards look smug into the camera. They are waiting for the team of Mark Flynn and the North Korean War Criminal to step up to be their next victims.

[Image: DtUCPfZ.png]
[Image: YrieUVE.png]
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"Loverboy" Vinnie Lane (10-20-2021),  ALIAS  (10-18-2021), Corey Smith (10-13-2021), Doctor Louis D'Ville (10-14-2021), EDWARD (10-13-2021), JimCaedus (10-12-2021), Marf (10-13-2021), Mark Flynn (10-13-2021), Theo Pryce (10-14-2021), Thunder Knuckles™ (10-12-2021), Vita Frickin Valenteen (10-13-2021)
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Dusk - Bobby Bourbon - 10-12-2021 10:34 PM

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