Robbie Bourbon, King of the Jobbers, High Holy Hypocrite, and Wednesday Night Wrecker, recently walked out of Warfare with a card presented to him by Vinnie Lane after beating out his competition.

A WILD CARD IN THE XWF

We open to see the hustle and bustle of a Wal-Mart parking lot in the early evening. Cars are backed up, full of confused drivers waiting on confused shoppers to cross the painted portion of the parking lot either to or from their own cars, at least at this door. The camera pans to show there is almost zero activity at the other door to the store, which must be where all the cool kids hang out since there are two ash trays on that side.

At this point, we see the A-Team van painted to look like the Ghostbusters car pulling up into a parking spot near the less busy door. Less busy, that is, until now. Everybody seems to love a winner, and Robbie Bourbon steps out of the vehicle as many shoppers and others stop and point at Robbie, not sure if it's yet another practical joke pulled on them to demean their spirit, a hoax meant to fuck with their heads if only for a moment and for no real reason, or the actual one and only King of the Jobbers. He notices a quarter on the ground and hits his head while closing his own door reaching for it, and the people all look more joyful since they know this must be the real thing.

Damn it!

Blue climbs out of the passenger seat as Cyberjaw, the man with the Cybernetic Jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Ash, Robbie's personal hair stylist, Joe Biden, the Vice King of the Jobbers, Han Solo, best smuggler in the galaxy, Smashdyface McFace, Islamic terrorist what had his face smashed with an axe, Robo-Rob, the robot from Rocky IV painted to look like it's wearing a Robbie Bourbon mask, and Frankendickhead, some dickhead Robbie killed then had his cronies reanimate through some fuckery, all climb out of the very crowded rear of the van, which has had all it's seats removed with the exception of the front two just to accomodate all of them.

What did you do?

I dropped that quarter, hit my head.

Yeah, I hate when that happens.

Dude, you needed all of us to cram into that van just to come to Wal-Mart?

Yeah, I got this gift card from Vinnie, I think it's twenty-five bucks or so.

You even brought the robot! Why, to spend twenty-five dollars?

Well, now that you put it like that, it does seem a bit frivolous, but come on, I'm going to get you all stuff.

We're ten deep! That's going to only be like two-fifty spent apiece.

More like a dollar apiece, and some of you will have to share, and Robo-Rob lives free of want or desire, I can really dig his sense of Zen, as you should too right about now.

That hunk of junk doesn't live, it's just a droid!

Who had to blow you to make that awful Kingdom of the Crystal Skull bullshit?

Go fuck yourself.

Honey, that isn't a Wal-Mart gift card, it's a wild card for...

Robbie's eyes perk right up. Life has it's duller moments, especially those moments spent at Wal-Mart, and the danger he craves and desires just doesn't loom, lurk, or otherwise manifest itself there. Even in the the Men's section where the wall of family friendly, too timid for Hot Topic t-shirts with a random Dodge logo shirt thrown in where Adam Wednesday usually masturbates in public is not seedy enough for him.

A wild card! Sweet, fuck this noise, fellas, we're going to Outback!

No, honey...

What?

Robbie grins at Blue, who shrugs.

You know what, I could go for a steak.

Robbie and Blue climb back into the van and speed off before the rest of the Bourbon Men have a chance to get into the van.

What the fuck?

Well, I need a new shower curtain.

Smashdyface says something inaudible due to his face being smashed.

No, this is not the hub of American civilization.

The eight Bourbon Men just kind of stand there for a moment, not sure if they should be entering the hub of American civilization. As they look dumbfounded what to do next, Robbie pulls back into the parking spot with Blue. They both hop out.

Okay, okay, so it's not an Outback gift card, either. I guess while I was visiting with the medical staff Vinnie explained what these were and I haven't checked my e-mail. Bourbon Men...

Stop calling me a man!

I don't discriminate. Bourbon Men, we need to shop for Halloween costumes and decorations. I figure Wal-Mart will be our best option, so let's go in there, get some cool costumes, maybe a big inflatable whatever to put in the front yard, and we're golden.

You don't have a front yard, dumb ass!

I didn't say put it in my front yard, some lucky XWF fan is going to get one put in their yard.

So, do we still get...

Yes, you still get stuff. I'm buying you guys your costumes here.

What? We should go to the party store, or to the Halloween store, Wal-Mart sucks!

Hey! They're a potential sponsor, and just imagine what we could do with all that sponsorship. Free Wal-Mart. I don't know about you, but I'll trust Sam's Choice in quite a few matters?

Even the cola?

Robbie stops and stares at Joe Biden, his head tilted sideways like a dog that heard a funny sound and a look on his face implying Joe should have known better. He puts a bottle of Coca-Cola to his lips and emphatically points at it while drinking. As he finishes, he lets loose a refreshing sigh and holds the bottle up to show the Coca-Cola logo in plain view as he smiles. He then returns the soda to whatever oblivion he pulled it from.

Look, the party store won't let me back after the last time we had the kazoo jamboree there.

Smashdyface says something inaudible due to his face being smashed.

Look, I know I didn't pay for the kazoos, I just figured they'd make a mint off of real kazoos played by the King of the Jobbers, Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon, and his band of merry cohorts. I didn't know there was some deal with not spreading "germs" or "diseases".

Robbie uses air quotes when saying both 'germs' and 'diseases'.

And besides, I certainly didn't know that Han Solo had hepatitis.

I don't fucking have hepatitis, they were freaked out that you're a C. Diff carrier because of where you fucking work!

Whatever, Hep Solo. I refuse to shop at the Halloween store because, well, I feel kinda wrong. Most of the XWF shops there in one way or another. Doc D'Ville gets all his fake blood from there. Ghost Tank got almost every prop he's used this month from there. And Adam Wednesday went there to piss and moan about the fact they weren't playing his band's shitty, mediocre music. I also think he was very upset over the fact the black lights made his albino skin glow bright purple and nobody could check out his goofy tattoos.

Wait, don't you get a discount there because of all that?

Nope, I sure don't. Besides, I don't need a costume. I already have one.

Robbie reaches into the van and pulls out a refigerator box.

Where did you get that?

Just now! It was in someone's yard!

Robbie takes out a Sharpie and doodles something on one side of the box, then rips open a hole for his face near the top. He slides it on, and we see he wrote 'lame ass costume' on the box.

Seriously, we had to stop in front of that guy's yard and steal his garbage just for that?

Well, what, I think it's pretty clever.

Robbie, Vinnie gave you a shot at the XWF Universal Championship, don't you think you owe it to him to, you know, be nice and play along with everybody else, wear a costume?

Robbie slides the box off and rolls his eyes.

Fine, fine. I will. Not like my opponent is going to dress up for Halloween. He's probably going to say something like how he's always a creepster and every day is Halloween, blah blah blah. I mean, I'm King of the Jobbers, the Wednesday Night Wrecker, and God almighty do I fucking wreck, the High Holy Hypocrite, and that's just me. This guy, well, every day is his Halloween. More cobwebs, more spiders, more bats, more ghouls, ghasts, ghosts, and gore.

You sound like you hate Halloween.

I don't! I really don't, I think it's a lot of fun, but when some douchebag constantly say shit like "only X odd amount of days to Halloween" and constantly talks about horror movies and lives a Halloween themed life, don't they just water down the experience? It's kind of like a heroin addict.

Adam Wednesday does heroin?

Well, I wouldn't be surprised. He looks like a junkie, that's for sure, and seems every bit as clever, but that's not the point I was making. You know, there's a very special day of the year dedicated to festive behavior, specific colors, and making sure you're warm enough to enjoy the day. It's called Easter. Do you ever hear these fools every going off about hunting for eggs or pastels? Nope.

Don't you have a sign that counts down the days until St. Patrick's Day?

Indeed I do, and that's okay, because every day I'm Irish-American. Is anybody a Spooky-American?

Paul Reubens is pretty spooky.

Paul Reubens is very creepy. Anyways, I figure while the rest of us can get hyped for Halloween, poor Adam just sees it as a Monday this year. Not a fun day with candy and carving pumpkins and scaring the bejesus out of your neighbors for no reason but to make them second guess asking to borrow your lawnmower. The Wednesday before that, Wednesday is going to get Wrecked.

You're going to wreck a whole calandar day?

I'm going to ruin Wednesday's day.

So there's just going to be a Tuesday followed by a Thursday that week?

No, Joe Biden, there's going to be a Wednesday, and on that Wednesday, at Wednesday Night Warfare, I'm going to crumple Adam Wednesday up like the gangly little booger he is and cast him aside and put him in his place, under my supervision as one of my royal subjects in the Jabroni Serfdom that pays homage to the King of the Jobbers.

I'm still fuzzy on that. Anybody else?

Joe Biden raises his hand and looks around at the other Bourbon Men. Smashdyface says something inaudible due to his face being smashed as he raises his hand.

No, it's not some heretical infidel plot to say God is dead, you silly goose, it's a day where you dress up, try to look cool, treat yourself, and then get in the pants of some lonesome uninhibited young thing. Now, c'mon, we look like weirdos just having this lengthy conversation in a Wal-Mart parking lot.

Robbie and the Bourbon Men begin to walk into Wal-Mart.

You know, I wanted to ask, what's up with your finisher?

Huh? The Neckwrecker is the most devestating move in the XWF.

Yeah, I know you think that, but when's the last time you actually won a match with it?

Robbie looks at Frankendickhead sideways as Frankendickhead looks backwards with his backwards head.

Well, okay, maybe it's time to up the ole' arsenal. I don't think a lot of the talent really have the backbone to be effected by it.

As Robbie and the Bourbon Men enter, Robbie approaches the door greeter/bag checker/make sure you paid for that person. She's well into her sixties, and her leopard print panties can be clearly seen through her white yoga pants.

Excuse me, ma'am?

Yes, dearie?

Where's the Halloween section?

The lady points to a paltry display that has one crummy plastic dagger.

That's it?

We started selling it in mid August.

The woman takes a tone as though Robbie really should have known that his Halloween needs were to be taken care of in the middle of summer. Robbie looks past the display, and sees...

We have all our Christmas stuff out now.

Robbie smirks, and starts whistling Jingle Bells as he leads the curious Bourbon Men to the fully stocked Christmas section of Wal-Mart.