Bobby and Charlie, Damn Mighty Bastards indeed, prepare for a match against NK & Flynn.

They went bowling.

CALVIN KLEIN

We open on a friendly neighborhood bowling alley, somewhere in America. You can almost smell the stale beer and bountiful foot odor of used shoes as you hear the clacking thunder of bowling balls streaking down the lane and knocking over pins. We see it’s league night, and the BOBowling team is out in force. We see Bobby Bourbon, looking confident. We see Barney Green, polishing his big green ball. We see Charlie Nickles, who seems to be balls deep in a Fleshlight embedded in his bowling ball. We see Jim “The BOBJim” Jimson interrogating his bowling ball.

Who do you work for, and where are my raisins?!

Jim Jimson pulls out a knife and stabs the bowling ball. Charlie ejaculates. Barney stands to bowl, striding with the grace of a swan to the line and releasing a perfect curving shot, scoring yet another strike.

Woah, way to go Barney!

The rival team, Moose Lodge #666 applauds. The leader of the team, Bill, steps forward.

Hey, y’all are great. Say, guy with the cockroller, you want some real hot action? Our Moose Lodge is raising money for a lost member’s wife, so we’re kidnapping nuns and forcing them into sex work.

Bill snaps his fingers. Two hot sexy nuns walk forward. Charlie ejaculates. Bobby stands to roll.

Wow, there, Bill, you guys sure are straightforward about how you’re into sex trafficking.

Bobby strides forward and releases his ball down the lane. Gutterball. Bobby snaps.

Dang, like the seventeenth one of those fuckers tonight.

Bobby walks back and sits at the bowling bench. Kind of away from Charlie, like everybody else, because Charlie is now handing cash to a member of Moose Lodge #666 while fondling a nun, his manhood rising to the occasion yet again within his bowling ball.

Look, it’s for a good cause. C’mon, take a holy nun handy for the old lady, only fifty bucks.

Nah, I don't pay for strange, and besides, Charlie, how are you having sex with that? Won't Goldi get jealous?

Charlie unfurls his bowling ball/mate, revealing he had Goldi balled up to bowl like a champion.

I would never betray my lover and cum rag.

Charlie stands up, waddles to the line with his pants around his ankles, and does a pelvic thrust, his flat, hairy man-ass chewing up the scene like a termite infestation. Goldi flops forward onto the lane as his swollen, overstimulated penis slaps his lower belly. A dribble of ejaculate secretes from the fleshlight. All the pins fall, a perfect strike for Charlie Nickles. Jim Jimson approaches the lane and shoots the ejaculate with a .357 revolver, blasting a hole in the lane. The pins drop. A perfect strike for Jim Jimson. Bobby looks at Barney.

Man, these new guys on the team sure are wacky.

Yep.

The BOBowling team moves to another lane. We see the lane they have left is beset by two lanes past it on the opposite side, one actively on fire, the other smeared with grease paint with the body of a birthday clown passed out on it.

You did the clown.

Look, clown bowling will be in the Olympics in our lifetime, Barney, and we all started the fire in lane six to appease Moloch and the other lesser bowling demons for a better game.

Barney walks up and bowls another perfect shot, scoring a strike. Bill and the other Moose Lodge #666 nun pimps aren't keeping pace with the nigh unbeatable BOBowling team here tonight. Jim Jimson has his arm stuck in a crane game. Charlie is yelling at a children's birthday party about responsibility and why Bobby threw their clown down a bowling alley lane, pants still around his ankles, the parents all trying to ignore Charlie or record him for Tiktok. Bobby approaches the new lane. He rolls. Gutterball.

By Vishnu's pant legs! I can't catch a break!

Charlie Nickles is struggling to pull his pants up to his waist as he continues to lambast the children and their parents.

You see, this is the problem with the new generation! None of you can respect someone’s personal privacy anymore! You have to learn to take personal responsibility for not exposing yourselves, and your children, to a grown man’s penis! If you don’t start taking responsibility for what your children see now, then the next thing you know your child is going to start downloading strange North Korean video games that steal your banking information!

"But you’re the hero of my favorite North Korean video game, Charlie!"

The Nickleman slaps the shit out of the child who dared to interrupt him, causing his pants to fall back around his ankles in the process. Another Jim Jimson is now helping the first Jim Jimson get his arm out of the crane game, but they aren’t having a lick of luck. Now the second Jim Jimson has his leg stuck in the same crane game. Barney Green sees that the manager of the bowling alley is giving out paychecks to his workers, and all of a sudden he pulls out his Barncoin briefcase and begins giving a full-scale presentation on why all the underpaid and overworked bowling alley attendants should invest their entire paychecks into Barncoin. Bobby Bourbon sits near the lane as he waits for the rest of his teammates to take their turns. Of course everyone but Bobby has now become incredibly distracted, and the Moose Lodge #666 human traffickers are using the chaos to their advantage as they slowly catch up on the scorecard.

Hrmm. I think sex trafficking Moose Lodges should get shut down. Especially if they might outrank us in league.

Bobby stands up.

BOB! ASSEMBLE!

Barney looks back, packs up his briefcase for Barncoin, which is a digital currency requiring a briefcase. He rushes to Bobby’s aide. Jim Jimson rushes back cradling a large flower pot with cardemums. Charlie comes over, his pants finally back up. Bobby takes his bowling ball and holding it with three fingers smashes Bill from Moose Lodge #666 in the face with it. Bill screams as he cups his face over his broken, bleeding nose.

These guys are human trafficking scum! They should be disqualified from league!

Jim Jimson places the potted cardamoms down gently on a bench then returns. Barney slugs another member of Moose Lodge #666. A fracas ensues as Charlie grabs a rival bowling team member and crushes their skull into the ball return with a Devil Hook Drop! Bobby grabs the last member of the lodge team and lifts him for a chokeslam. As he does, Charlie uppercuts the poor dude right in the testes. Bobby then finishes the chokeslam.

Tell your friends we’re coming for them.

Bobby turns to the nuns.

You ladies can go back to your nunnery.

Perplexed, Charlie turns to the nuns.

That’s “convent”.

Bobby looks at Charlie.

That’s convenient.

Bobby rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

Why can’t you guys get words right?




Bobby Bourbon and Charlie Nickles are seen on their hands and knees setting up multiple packs of dominoes in an elaborate design on a hardwood floor. Those Damn Mighty Bastards pause after every few dominoes they set up to reference the huge print out of the design plan that they have pinned up to the wall. An ever shrinking pile of unplaced dominoes sits between the two men as they continue their hard work lining up, and then presumably knocking down, their dominoes of choice. Nickles turns to Bourbon with a look of determination as they continue to work.

I am so ready for this. I don’t know what I like better: lining these bitches up or knocking them down!

It's a fine art. We do both and enjoy both. We are putting prey in our sights, so to speak, and thinking of how awesome the thrill of the end of the hunt is. But, we're not there yet. We gotta complete the task and show we can win together.

You’re god-damned right, King Bob. This is what bastards do best! And some people try to say we aren’t sophistimahcated. I mean, just take a glance at our elaborate designs! No one can deny our wit and talent in good faith!

Bourbon looks over at Charlie with mild annoyance. Bobby shakes his head before making eye contact with The Nickleman and setting the record straight.

That's Grand High PooBOB, not King Bob. Kings are pastiche. And, what we bring to the ring, this isn't shrimp linguine with like 6 measely shrimp, it's 2 lbs of shrimp cocktail. All meat. All killer, no filler bullshit. That’s how bastards wrestle, and how we set up dominoes. Fuck the noise that Alias and Page wanna be. I don't wanna wrestle like a bottle of fine wine or a tapestry to be savored. Let's be a line of chop and a shot of rail hooch that leads to a memorable stain on an irreplaceable rug in your mancave. Short, sweet, fun, and hard hitting.

Charlie raises an eyebrow at Bourbon’s vivid descriptions.

Are you talking about sex right now, Bobby boy? Damn, I didn’t hear the rest of what you said, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got that whole double-meaning thing down pretty damn good! I bet you could give Alias or Robert Main a very long-winded run for their money! And you’re pretty funny, too, shit- you’re probably as funny as that Mark Flynn guy!

Mark Flynn is absolute sourpuss who grumbles his way through life while NK is the funny one, Charlie, I've landed better jokes than he's landed moonsaults. Checking into how the stock market works sure is a hoot, whoa boy. Dare I say it, having to hear Mark Flynn perform any comedy routine would be on par with a root canal. I'm no comedian either, I'm a vicious tough guy Bastard who demolishes people in the ring, but Flynn puts the un in funny.

North Korean War Criminal? Pfft, I ain’t worried. I’ve been slinging the shit with Steubenville’s foulest thieves, crooks, and murderers for years. I’ve hit licks on the cartel, chico. I’ve dropped bodies with the GD’s and I’ve pushed weight with the Old King Kennedy Outlaws. I’ve traded fire with the Catch A Body Crips, and I’ve hate crimed the fuck out of many, many an Asian woman. So in sum, there’s no one on this earth more prepared to violate NKWC’s human rights than the mahfukkin’ Nickleman. No one on this earth is more prepared to G-check this swagger jacker masquerading as some sort of criminal!

Kimmy Double-Chin’s loyal suckboy is going to learn a thing or two about warfare and criminality next Wednesday night. I mean fuck, what does that little cold war cosplayer even KNOW about war crimes? He wasn’t even alive when my uncle was bombing the fuck out of Korean villages back in the 50s- and I’m pretty sure those were the last war crimes any North Korean has seen! Making a shitty video game about APEX ain’t a crime, even if it ought to be!

You know statistically speaking the most common war crime is sexual assault, but I’m not so sure Flynn’s comic relief is willing to own up to that. I mean, I don’t know why not- there ain’t nothing wrong with going out there and taking what you want! But that North Korean Walking Contradiction is all branding and no brandishing….I want to see him shove a rifle up some South Korean bitch’s pussy. THAT is one of the most common war crimes in the world, THAT is what war criminals do! Now I ain’t never claimed to be a war criminal, shit I didn’t even sign up for the draft, so you can’t try to pin the blame on me for pointing out the obvious implication here. I’m just an average, everyday run of the mill bastard who knows a thing or two about a thing or two. The real question you ought to be asking is: ‘what kind of piss-poor criminal needs to use the fog of war to excuse his actions? What kind of pussy-whipped bitch can only violate human rights when the fat fuck with a little nuke tells him to?"

Bobby puts his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

Hot Damn on toast, you ARE a bastard for the love of God. As for NK, he’s a dork, even though we do have a six year rivalry. See, he showed up several years ago. We fought over the Federweight Championship. He did absolutely nothing for six years. He and Flynn played sneaky and dirty as fuck. At least Flynn is a better James Bond knockoff than Thad Duke or Corey. Not as good as Centurion, and for the love of fuck that is saying an awful lot.

So, brothers and sisters, bear witness as we congregate once again under the glorious eminence that is the Church of the Bastard! We come to you, united, in tandem, two distinct and separate souls bringing the beats so hard it…

…it doesn’t matter what I say after that. I’ma whoop up on NK and Flynn like I have been for the past however many, who gives a fuck, months, only this time, and oh, hohohoho, fuck yeah, I went there and pulled that trope, this time we don’t have bullshittery getting in the way. Seriously, a cheap shot to Barn? Pfft. I’m not impressed. Then you brought up being in action, I’m the fucking King of the place now, well, what royalty would I be if I didn’t come down from my castle? I don’t have no walls blocking me in, anywhere, and whenever they get put up, they get torn down. Not like Jenga, but, you know, in a cool way.

But allow us to give praise, for the way of the Bastard has brought forward none other than a Prophet! Lo! Heathen and infidel, thou hast beckoned upon the deliverance of the Bastard! You have brought on the might of the Brotherhood of Bastards, and Brother Bourbon, the Grand High PooBOB, along with The Prophet of BOB, Charlie Knuckles…

Nickles.

Yep. The Knuckles cousins.

Somewhere, TK thinks to himself "oh god!" though he is unsure why. Charlie rubs the temple of his forehead with his cracked fingers, clearly frustrated with the nomenclature mix-up.

Don't pick at it or else it won't heal.

Heal? Heal? Bobby, I don’t heal. That’s pussy shit. I just take the fucking licks and keep on moving.

Taking licks is what pussies crave. No wonder you're single.

I’m not single, I’m dating the most beautiful woman in the world! You fucking know that!

Yes, yes, we all know about how you and your cousin, my brother, which makes us, um, a tag team, but we all know about how the two of you battled over Goldie. You're kinda getting sloppy seconds.

Charlie squeezes the domino in his hand as he stares into Bourbon’s soul. The domino is crushed in Charlie's hand, with many sharp pieces breaking off and embedding themselves in the palm of Charlie’s hand.

Focus on the match, Bobby. My Goldi is MINE. Forever!

You just broke one of my fancy dominoes! What's the big idea?

It’s not broken, Bobby, it just looks a little *different* now.

Charlie extends his bloody hand and uses a new intact domino to scrape all the broken bits and pieces out of his palm. The bloody domino bits drop to the floor in the place where another full domino is supposed to go.

It’ll still work, dominoes are like magic.

Charlie winks at Bourbon. Bobby picks up the sharded domino and shakes his head.

This isn't magical, you silly goose.

Bobby produces a box cutter. He gashes his hand.

We will become blood brothers.

I have hepatitis, hopefully you can trade me something good!

The Nickleman reaches out and grabs Bobby’s hand before Bourbon can respond to the sudden revelation.

Oh, I think enough hallucinogens and caffeine that you’ll have an aneurism.

What?

With that, a boat captain walks into the scene.

Who the fuck is that?

A Bourbon Man. I call him Captain Snappants.

The boat captain whips off his snap pants, revealing a banana hammock adorned with the 4/3 domino, the very domino that Charlie had destroyed.

Weird.

Kinda. But it still makes more sense than Mark Flynn. Jesus. Flynn, I’ve been so concerned with NK, for some goofy reason, when I gotta plaster your tiny little self into the ground too! I mean, up until now, I haven’t been able to. You’ve pulled the rug out from under me more times than I care to admit, but it’s there. The thing is, Flynn, I’m coming in after having seen every little thing you can do in that ring. I’m seeing every little thing that NK can do in that ring. I see the shit you two pull together, go for another lowball attack this time, we get it, you two are two just downright bad men thrust into dirty situations. I’ve been that longer than I can remember, though. The difference is I sit on the throne and you both get shat out into it. I, Grand High PooBOB of the XWF, winningest winner of March Madness 4 in Tokyo, come down to the ring with the man who has defined the TV title, representing Bastardkind from Maine to San Diego, bringing home the bacon and the bashing down a beating onto the both of you in tandem in ways so vicious that, heh, only we could come up with it.

North Korean War Criminal ain’t shit, he’s literally not even the loose diarrhea stool that gets shat out onto the King’s throne. Flynn’s the only one of those comic acts worth taking seriously. Mark Flynn is like that little skin tag on a whore’s asshole. He’s incredibly annoying and difficult to look at, but shit, I won’t deny that it’s gonna be a challenge to knock him off that booty we’re chasing! He’s a slippery little son of a bitch, exactly like a lubed-up skin tag on a whore’s ass!

Woah, woah, Charlie. We need that fire. We need that gusto. We need, dare I say it, panashe! It’s the time that we brought bluster and conviviality back to professional wrestling! We don’t cater to children, we offer only to the finest of refined tastes. You’re offering a mungrag laden with the worst swill. Come come, refine that posture, belch out some proper smacktalk about NK & Flynn. Let me. Ahem. I have felt the stab of NK & Flynn, twice now, selling them both like a couple of shots from a pair of Louisville Sluggers. Well it's time your side story with what is rightfully, and undoubtedly, Bastard's property ended. As far as I'm concerned you're still playing finder's keepers, and that will hold for a while, but the will of the Bastard is eternal, from dawn to dusk, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The will of the Bastard decrees from the highest mountain tops to the lowest pits of the Marianas. That echoing reverb calling out to CK and Bobby. We are Damn Mighty Bastards.

CK being Charlie Knuckles. Just making that clear. Cool.

Bobby slightly coughs. Charlie is totally zoned out, he was focused on placing some more faberge dominoes down while Bobby went off.

Wait, who did that anus tag and his fake G friend even beat for those titles anyways?

Bobby ignores the question, smirking.

Brother Knuckles, lay it the fuck down for these propaganda force-fed waste-product slime bags.

Who the fuck was it they beat for those belts, Bobby! God damn it, I just can’t remember. I remember that it was a pretty big deal tho, almost a main event! Ah, shit…I remember watching the match…their opponents were a complete monstrosity…
And that’s when it clicks for The Nickleman.

Oh wait, those stupid bitches were just slurping up Tee-Kay’s victory juices at Fire and Ice! By the time they got around to challenging Main his big ol’ pussycat was all worn, torn, and stretched out after what Tee-Kay did to him in that cage! Tee-Kay says you’re welcome for the title reign, but now it’s time for those bitches to pay the bastards what we’re owed! WITH INTEREST! Whatever that means…Tee-Kay was just really pressed about the fact that they need to pay BOB back with something called ‘interest’ now!

Oh yeah, keep hyping your cousin! Circling back to our match, right now, against NK and Flynn! Hold up!

Bobby turns. He pulls out his phone and tries calling Thunder Knuckles. He gets TK’s voicemail.


Bobby clears his throat.

Hey, TK, bud, your cousin is a special breed. He smells like a cabbage factory. I don’t even know if that’s a thing, but that’s just how I describe the smell.

Bobby puts his phone away, contented. Charlie lifts up his arms and takes a brief sniff of each. His face recoils in disgust, but he forces a smile anyways.

Oh Bobby, it’s not that bad….is it?

Charlie sniffs again and is once again overpowered by a sour scent. His face twists and contorts to demonstrate his displeasure.

That’s just a manly musk. That’s just what men smell like! REAL MEN, not those shaved-down and lubed-up little femboys keeping our tag belts warm for us!