BourbCo, bringing you the finest products from the finest sweatshops.

Buy it, you consumer whore, you put Jeff Bezos into space for fuck’s sake.

SHARKS ARE BORN SWIMMING

Welcome to another intriguing episode of Shark Tank! Wait, this show isn’t on BastardNET. Huh. Must be some holdover from when the XWF did the whole Star Wars show, and since Disney owns both, well, I guess it was a matter of time before XWF talent landed themselves on ABC. Tonight, and bear with me, I’ve only ever seen clips of this show, but next up is a great way to improve your lifestyle! We see Bobby Bourbon walk out, accompanied by both Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, and Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw. Lori Grenier, Robert Herjavic, Barbara Corcoran, Daymond John, Kevin O’Leary, and Mark Cuban all sit and watch.

Hi, sharks! My name is Bobby Bourbon. I’m here from BourbCo. I’m seeking two million dollars for three percent equity in my company.

Sheesh

Sharks, these are uncertain and trying times in not only the United States, what with the economy set to go bust, but also the world, with resurgences of Covid internationally and the whole shitshow in the Ukraine. Pretty sure there’s a hole in the ozone layer above Australia, but that’s been there and we stopped giving a shit. Hell, none of my promos won RP of the month, and those were fucking bangers. Anyhow, the big news today is the Supreme Court decision to overturn Roe v. Wade, so we have come up with a line-up of products geared towards this, ready to strike before whatever stinker of a news story comes around next week.

The panel looks uncomfortable.

So, how many of you out there are Republican to the core, with tattoos of Larry the Cable Guy, a MAGA hat for every day of the week, enough guns to shoot up an entire school district, and a distinct misunderstanding for why you can’t get pussy like the wealthy conservatives do? I know there are plenty. Take Diamondback.

Where?

Not literally, just roll with it.

Okay.

Diamondback is a proud member of the NRA and even wonders what all the ballyhoo about the January 6th commission is all about.

No I don’t!

I said roll with it, you’re shitting on the sales pitch.

Whatever.

Diamondback lights up a joint right there on set.

So Diamondback meets a drop dead gorgeous woman in a grocery store, who is minding her own business, trying to figure out what to do for her next meal plan. He’s self conscious, because women all across the country are vowing to cross their legs and just masturbate like they don’t have sexual desires whatsoever all on account of the Supreme Court saying it’s a state’s choice whether abortion is banned, and while he doesn’t want to be a father, he feels women should just try being mothers if they get knocked up. Especially the women he didn’t knock up, because if they didn’t accept his love gun, they must be whores. Well, we at BourbCo have come up with a solution.

Bobby holds up a small card.

Counterfeit voter registration cards! With these, you can approach women with ease, and show them that you’re in fact a Democrat, and thus, are good to go with coitus because you respect a woman’s right to choose. Sure, deep down, you feel that with Roe v. Wade gone, it paves the way for other controversial cases like Brown v. The Board of Education of Topeka decision to get looked into again. Let her know you’re okay, and you can look at them tiddies, because each card comes with some fun liberal factoids you can sling! Things like “what are those extra letters at the end of LGBTQQIAAP for”, “how to get George Soros funding”, and even “I pitch dickings like I was Bill Clinton”. O’Leary, I know you’d love this.

Kevin O’Leary looks absolutely stunned.

I’m out.

Shut your whore of a mouth, Mark Cuban. I have more.

This is absurd.

Balderdash! This is a show where we song and dance out here to entertain you for a sum of cash that’s a legit drop in the bucket for y’all and you get to chalk up losses on your tax returns anyhow. My next product…

There’s more?

Yes. Our next product is for the concerned and discerning woman. How many times have you gone to yourself ‘you know, I really shouldn’t have gotten into that gang bang last night, as fun as it was being the tracks for the train being run on me’, right Lori?

I’m out.

Hear me out. So say you have about three different contenders swimming around in your baby maker, and you really are tired of going on Maury to figure out who Little Johnny’s daddy is. Well, with the recent overturn in the Supreme Court, if you live in a red state, much like where most people who wind up on Maury are from, you might not have the option or opportunity to give yourself a fresh start. That’s why we’ve come up with Clean Slate.

Cyberjaw holds up a douche applicator filled with a glowing green liquid.

Our proprietary blend of pool chemicals, radioactive waste, and vitamin E will ensure whatever worms are up in your guts will get out of town quick! It’s not a nuclear bomb, it’s a mom bomb, and without the need of invasive procedures like a hysterectomy or having your tubes tied, you’ll be completely sterile! Your fallopian tubes will be cleaner than the inside of a bottle of Clorox, and those pesky ovaries of yours won’t produce viable eggs ever again. Viable, that is, for insemination; the mutations caused may even bless you with ovum large enough to serve for brunch to whomever is visiting you. You sharks may like it from beluga, but have you ever had crotch caviar? It’s the wave of the future, and even such chefs like Bobby Flay and Gordon Ramsey are finding new and fun ways to serve it in their restaurants.

How does that even work?

I have no clue, I don’t have a vagina.

I’m out.

Your loss. But wait, there’s more! We at BourbCo also recognize the religious people out there who are not only very pleased that abortions are no longer federally protected, but are very fiscally irresponsible too. Well, to teach their children the value of saving money…

Cyberjaw holds up a figurine. It's a pregnant woman in a blue dress with an apron, looking straight out of the 1950's, the era of American innocence unless so long as you were a white male.

This is the Susie Save-A-Lot! It's like a piggy bank, except you can't get the money back out of it for nine whole months, regardless of any emergency you might encounter. You just put the coin in the slot…

Cyberjaw pulls a quarter out of his pocket and places it up under Susie Save-A-Lot's skirt. The doll speaks.

"Oh, daddy!"

I'm out.

Cyberjaw shakes the doll, and we hear the quarter clinking around inside.

So, how do you keep the money inside? Surely there's a way to break the doll.

Nope! I have pioneered a new material that is entirely shatterproof.

Cyberjaw places the doll on the ground. Diamondback pulls our a revolver and shoots it. The bullet ricochets and careens off camera. The doll is unharmed.

That’s actually impressive. Can this material be used for military applications?

Huh. Well, I guess, but I used all of it to make a bunch of these banks and once they're formed as such they can’t break down, and it's impossible to make more.

Impossible?

Yes. You see, we used a very rare obsidian zirconium found underneath Mount Etna that took billions of years to form, reproducing it in a lab would actually bankrupt the entire western hemisphere.

I'm out.

Damn it, Kevin, you were my boy!

I’m intrigued. I know you were looking for two million, why do you need that much?

To be honest, I was just going to use creative accounting to funnel it all into my pocket.

I'm out.

Y'all suck.

~~~~



We catch up with Bobby on the empty set of Shark Tank.

The real shame of what went down in the Supreme Court recently, if you ask me, is Angelica Vaughn’s parents were there, in that special time frame where she could have been vacuumed out of her mom’s twat and avoided this. Wait, she’s Canadian. They could have aborted her on the government's dime. I guess that means I should talk a hell of a lot slower, too.

The ratings…

Have come in…

The number one…

Broadcasting service…

Associated with…

Wrestling today…

Is BastardNET.

In a distant second…

Is SPLAT!

Even though…

Their programming lineup…

Is as boring…

As the Hallmark Channel.

Somewhere down the list…

At like number fifty-one…

Is CoolTube.

Bobby clears his throat.

Okay, enough of that shit, it's not my fault you're from someplace so stupid they don't even have snow days. So, anyway, since I am pre-empting the next cookie cutter video on CoolTube where Angelica pretends to be a superstar by giving us more of the same while having Sarah Lacklan hype her to the ring.

Bobby rolls his eyes.

Seriously? You needed someone who, by rights, was the biggest dud in XWF Universal Championship history, who's biggest claim to fame is getting her ass whooped by Ruby, who's crusade to clean up the XWF is pointless, because it sure as shit hasn't impacted the Brotherhood of Bastards. Darlin', I'm not sure how slow you are, but let me fill you in with one of the most concrete truths in the universe; nothing begets nothing. Heraldry from a nobody is nothing and for no one. Little birdie, I get you're crowing from your nest, but birds of a feather flock together. It's great you're here in the XWF, it brings more eyes to the real ass-kickers and shithole stompers we got making moves around here; that being the Brotherhood of Bastards.

Bobby smirks.

Fuck the cool kids. Y'all wanna follow high school ass tropes, that's well and good. To put it in terms you'd understand, we’re the John Benders of your little Breakfast Club. To put it realistically, while y'all go around playing Mean Girls, and darlin', you sure ain't the Lindsay Lohan of the bunch, we’re grown and whooping ass hither dither like it was our job, and you know what the best part is? It is our job. I don't get paid to be hype, to push positivity, to be an influencer, or any horse shit like that, no, no! I get paid to put bodies on the ground with my bare hands. You won't learn about that on CoolTube, they’re too insular. You got nothing to learn, thus, you can't learn, which makes you as apt to new things as a bucket of piss. The only change you can experience is getting dumped out so the next batch can come through.

Bobby shrugs. It's about a seven out of ten on the Shawn Warstein scale. Why do I keep referencing that guy? He's as relevant as a baseball glove on a soccer pitch at this point. Nevermind; to the people of the Academy, this is RP of the month.

That's not to say you aren't capable of doing something in a fight, no-sirree. I might be a fool, but I'm not an idiot. I recall Leap of Faith. It took a miracle shot from Flynn chucking a cinder block to solidify Raion Kido's Cinderella story and put him in place to win. You hung with us, didn't get near as close as I did, but hey, there was one winner, five losers, and here we are. Raion's getting a shot at Alias in a four way at Marijuana Meyhem, or Pot and Punishment, whatever cool ass names that the doofus Chris Page rejected in favor for Cannabis Cup. I, well, I’m going to whoop the shit outta a bunch of blowhard big fish from tiny ponds on my way to winning the whole tourney. You, uh, well…

Bobby cocks his head and looks skyward for a moment.

Angelica Vaughn is going to…

Bobby looks dead at the camera, his eyes going wide.

Oh, right! Angie is going from contending for a briefcase to being Sarah Lacklan's little pal. You couldn't carry your own name further than three measly inches after being in the most high profile Leap of Faith match in the history on Earth, but hey, what does anyone expect? You're too busy thinking your dopey little videos are cool to achieve any form of transcendence. Cool is mediocre. I'm straight fire. Also, I know the need to grow, I know the need to go out and not just prove to myself, but to my brothers, and the whole fucking Universe that I am worth a damn, that I can go, and you know what? I fucking do it!

Bobby clears his throat. He spits on the floor of the set.

Listen up here, Sarah Lacklan's little pawn, doe eyed baby girl with all the sense of a fawn. I'll be whooping ass long after you're gone, you're not even the best wrestler with the last name Vaughn. I'm supposed to be scared of your hundred-and-fourty pounds? I could find heavier competition playing on playgrounds. Toss you out, and away, like my used coffee grounds: run, run, little bunny, because here come the war hounds. Shake you off like some piss off the tip of my pecker, bust you like black jack, twist you like Chubby Checker, smash you like Hulk and then I'll bend you like Becker, time for this cool kid to get crushed by a wrecker. Then you can go and check out some other company's ring, you won't get it done here, and I'm sure that must sting. Go face off with some other soft, Nerf-level thing, you might beat other people…

Bobby points to himself.

…but you best hail to the king.

As Bobby finishes his bars, a stage hand for Shark Tank walks up to him.

Uh, what are you doing here?

Bobby cocks an eyebrow incredulously.

Spitting fire.

Oh. Well, why did you call yourself a king? I thought you were a 'PopBOB' or 'puh-BOB'.

It's Grand High PooBOB.

Well the promoters keep getting that wrong on your website.

Oh yeah?

Bobby’s head cocks as his gaze narrows.

Yeah, you kind of just look like a massive tool on account of them, and…

The stage hand is swiftly cut off by a massive right uppercut from Bobby, which sends him into a heap on the floor. Bobby looks down at him.

Don't fucking believe everything you read on the internet, and only fucking nerds go to our website. Fuck you, I bet you simp yourself out to OnlyFans whores in between sessions of looking into internet wrestling rumors.

Bobby looks at the camera.

These are the kind of people you attract, Angie. For fucks sake, eat a goddamn cheeseburger and cut it out with the fake-as-hell wannabe Storm from the X-Men outfit you wear to the ring.