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+--- Thread: Howdy There Guy (/showthread.php?tid=29457)
Howdy There Guy - Prof. Bobby Bourbon - 09-26-2017
Robbie Bourbon faces Robert Lame at Warfare, home of the Wednesday Night Wrecker as much as Burger King is the home of the Whopper. Bourbon did this, Bourbon did that, and Robert Main told us all about Robbie's past while scolding Robbie who had said nothing of his recent past.
Robert Lame is going to have his leg snapped across a post. Who cares if he enjoys the idea.
HOWDY THERE GUY
Hold on, this is my serious face.
Robbie can't shake the grin from his punnam. He's seen in a zoo full of zombified animals. Around him are zombie kangaroos, zombie hippopotomi, zombie giraffes, and zombee mongeese. You can totally tell they're zombies because they have bolts in their neck and rotting flesh around their mouth showing way too much teeth as zombies are apt to do.
Wednesday is your three o'clock, Main. Remember that.
A zombie cheetah runs up and sits in front of Robbie, who pets it.
Oh, I see you've noticed the whole zoo of animals I reanimated. I hope you like them. I was a zombie once too. Metaphorically speaking. I mean, I ate brains, but I wasn't undead. I don't think you are either, but you left enough haze in your weird ass promos, seriously kid don't walk around naked in the woods ever again, that you can claim you were being sarcastic or that it was all in the artistry with which you pronounced yourself.
Either way it's a load of horse shit that you can't take to market.
Elroy the elephant, Robbie's elephant pal and special con exclusive Bourbon Man for 2017, walks up next to him. Now fully grown and blown out of normal proportion from a steady diet of steroids, HGH, EGH (elephant growth hormone), and what looks like mechanical/robotic/android style tusks. Lasers shoot out from them and actually nail a zombie cockatiel, sending a poof of feathers everywhere. Zombie feathers.
But I'm supposed to be taking you seriously, not pointing out what a fucking hoax you are.
Main already covered my life story over the past two months. Betraying a friend to salvage a dying shaky alliance, losing matches, et cetera. All pretty blah if you ask me. I lived it. I already know. It sure beats what Robert Main has been up to, which is sitting on his chunky ass clicking between Dr. Phil and ESPN to watch my gorgeous face do an interview at home taking in a free paycheck for some goofy reason, then I guess pretending his lengthy vacation was hell? Maybe he went to hell? Who really gives a rats ass?
Robbie mounts up on his inflated pachyderm, filled to the brim with muscles, drugs, and hormones. Its dick drags across the ground, obviously a result of some weird cocktail Robbie injected in the beast to make it fulfill his needs as Robbie Bourbon. More than a superhero, more than a wrestler, more than both, but still just a man.
Son, it doesn't matter if you met Beelzebub hi'self or you just painted King Friday purple in the Land of Make Believe, and I can't believe I just made a fucking Mr. Rodger's Neighborhood reference, but it doesn't matter what you went through.
What matters is what you're going through at Warfare.
Your three o'clock.
You think I'm a bully? You think I pushed you around, took your lunch money, shoved you in a locker after pulling your underwear up out of your pants and giving you a noogie, don't you. It's okay, it's okay, tell everybody how I make victims around here, I have a whole fucking victim factory. It operates on natural energy...
Robbie slaps his belly.
It opperates at about fifteen horsepower...
Robbie hops off the moving elephant monster with a dick you can't stop staring at because it's that large. He grabs a rope, and fifteen zombie clydesdales all start to march in the opposite direction attached to harnesses all connected to said rope. Robbie plays tug of war against fifteen zombie clydesdales and wins handedly by dragging them eight feet in five seconds. He then trots forward, catches up to Elroy, and hops on his tusk, petting his massive elephant buddy on the head. Elroy toots something merrily.
And he ain't just whistling dixie.
Robbie whistles a tune. It's damn well not 'Dixie'. The elephant trumpets in tune to assist in not whistling 'Dixie' in a flagrantly
moment that's somehow less than listening to Robert Main for more than fifteen seconds.You already sound like my victim, Main. You're being aufully defensive. You keep attacking flaw after flaw like they even fucking matter.
Because my flaws are still more entertaining than your fucking best. Flat the fuck out. It's why the people pay hand over fist to see Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon. Only one person in the history of the XWF ever planned on paying to see a Michael Graves match. You. You didn't even. You avoided coming to Warfare because I scared the piss out of you.
The big bully I am. Heh. I'm also a fucking minature toy poodle in some way, Main, you just haven't made it up and prattled it off because you just needed to keep using words until it became abuse to the ears of every man, woman, and child paying attention. The poor bastards, Main, that sat through and watched your shit. Have you no empathy to the actual fans of the XWF who were forced to watch your frollicking around trying to convince anybody who'll listen that you're somehow the new Dark Warrior of the XWF? No wonder you wanted to watch Michael Graves so much, you're stealing his gimmick.
Kinda like you're stealing lines I used against Jim Caedus.
With that, Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, swoops in on a giant mutated bumble bee.
Where the hell did you get that thing?
This?
Cyberjaw points to the bee.
Yes, the giant fuck off bee from a fifties B movie.
This is Gladys.
Okay.
She's awesome. Get on, we need to go to court.
What, are we suing Ghost Tank?
What? No, that guy's boring. We're suing Robert Main for gimmick infringement on behalf of Michael Graves.
That sounds lame.
Robert Lame?
No, well, yeah, I don't know.
The bee lifts Elroy and Robbie into the air.
Look, we gotta fly.
I see! This is one strong bee!
It's the best one we got.
The bee takes off and flies at mind-boggling speed, breaking the speed of sound but safely getting Robbie, Cyberjaw, and an elephant to none other than the People's Court.
Perfect.
I know, right.
With that, the cool People's Court music starts to play as Judge Marilyn Milian, who's kind of hot but also not, passably doable to be fair, takes her place and bangs a gavel. Robbie, accustomed to court appearances, turns and waves to several cameras in the audience. The bailiff approaches Judge Milian.
Case number five four three two one, your honor. Bourbon vs. Main.
A voiceover comes through.
This is the plaintiff, Robbie Bourbon, who claims Robert Main totally taxed his gig by ripping him off from a promo he already cut for a match that already ended.
The camera switches and we see an empty table and podium.
The defendant was a sore loser who couldn't be found to take a stand for anything for several months. Like he'd show up now. No integrity, tsk tsk.
The camera goes back to the solid seven Judge Milian.
Okay, Mr. Bourbon, you claim that Mr. Main owes you twenty thousand Xbux. You do realize this is small claims court, and such an amount requires a larger courtroom.
Your honor, the actual monetary value of twenty thousand Xbux is about twenty five cents.
Oh. Proceed.
With what?
Tell us your case.
Oh, okay. Well, Robert Main sucks hard compared to me. Robert Main can put out candles by inhaling he sucks so hard. Dyson and Hoover all try to make a Robert Main level of sucktitude whenever they build a new vacuum cleaner. Robert Main is a whiny little bitch ready to be victimized and already playing the victim card. Robert Main is trying to rip off Michael Graves. Most importantly, your honor, is Robert Main ripped off my promos.
And is this illegal.
It should be!
The audience applauds.
Okay, and Mr. Main couldn't be here today because..?
Oh, because he can't be bothered or expected to show up anywhere reliably. I'm pretty sure after I beat the fucking breaks off of him at Warfare like the little effeminate sheepling he is, being the effeminate sheepling bully I be, he'll come back in January proclaiming to be the Rainbow Princess or a Trax knockoff of some kind.
Well, since he didn't appear, I find in favor of Robbie Bourbon. Robert Main is hereby expected to pay Robbie Bourbon twenty thousand Xbux for using his material without permission or consent. Case is closed.
Moderately hot Judge Milian bangs her gavel. Robbie and Cyberjaw shake hands. The screen goes dark.