[bwo][/bwo]


Feudal Japan, 1567. The court of Nobunaga is thriving with geishas, dignitaries, and other shit are here. If you're an expert on this kind of thing, you'll note a few historic inconsistencies, but it looks authentic enough to those who aren't total Nippophiles. As it's business as usual here, it's completely out of the ordinary as a phone booth materializes in the room, causing everyone to stop what they're doing. Bobby and TK step out of the booth and look around.

We went to Benihana?

No, I think this is ancient Japan.

This place smells fucking old, thats for goddamn sure.

Many within the court begin to scramble, and a few draw their swords in shock, taking defensive stances.

I think we're scaring them.

We’re the best goddamn tag team ever and we scare lots of fucking people.

True.

Bobby pulls his phone out and starts to meddle with it.

Are you trying to pull up a fucking translator, Bobby?

I thought of that but I'm not going to get any signal.

This is Japan, there's signal fucking everywhere.

Not in 1575.

Huh? Do you think we could talk to fucking Elon Musk about, I don't know, getting internet service for the goddamn past?

We could, but he's just going to think you’re high again.

TK grins.

Well, I mean, I am.

Fair. I'm glad you're at least not tripping balls like I am. This place looks so 3D right now.

Hey, you know what this shit reminds me of?

Bill and Ted?

No, goddamn it. I mean, besides that.

Benihana.

Well, that too. Are you gonna fucking guess, or what?

I'm on mushrooms and just tried to Google something while in feudal Japan. My next guess is it reminds you of the crappy Ninja Turtles movie.

That’s exactly what I was fucking thinking!

Bobby and TK exchange a no-look fistbump, a move so slick and amazing the entire Imperial court gasps in stunned awe.

Y'know, we could go back and fix that whole mess so they make the awesome second Micheal Bay Ninja Turtles sooner.

We could even…

Yes. We could be Bebop and Rocksteady.

Sweet.

Finally one of the members of Nobunaga's court starts shouting at Bobby and TK.

Don’t fucking interrupt, with your goddamn click-clack shit, mother fucker!

Technically we are interrupting them. Watch this.

Bobby boops a few times on the face of his smartphone, and a basic ringtone starts playing. Again, the Imperial court is taken completely aback by the small device making weird music coming from the big curly haired man's hand. Bobby chuckles.

Buncha rubes.

Let’s go stop a shit kids movie from being fucking made!

Right! That’s the most responsible use of a time machine there is!

Bobby and TK crowd back into the phone booth. Bobby presses a few buttons.

Do you know what the Hell you’re doing this time?

Bobby is hitting more buttons.

I think so, no, wait, yeah, I got it.

The phone booth is being surrounded by red lighting once again. The portal forms underneath and the phone booth drops down. The last thing you hear before your screen fades to commercial is...

FUCK YOU!!! HOLLYWOOD!





Hi, I’m Jeff Bezos.

We see Jeff Bezos standing in front of a pedestal with a very old looking book atop it.

I’m the CEO of Amazon and an amateur space traveler. Let me tell you, firsthand, that my ability to go into space was thanks to you. Not just the Amazon workers who toil in slavelike conditions because their medical coverage needs have to be met by employers and we barely pay above the going rate. After all, they get to put that they worked for us on their CV. It also goes out to all the fatty white people who no longer go out of the house to get simple groceries, like soap, detergents, and self-care items that would otherwise aid in their ability to be presentable when leaving the house if they weren’t suddenly so dedicated to being shut-ins. Now, not to seem crass, this is a global pandemic, but well after the waves of CoVid are gone, we at Amazon, along with our friends at Doordash and Comcast, hope you continue to enjoy the walls you surround yourself with in relative comfort as your growing suspicion of the outside world manifests in ways so grand you’ll stop trusting the very light of the sun.

Bezos smiles and gives a thumbs up.

Now I have with me something very special. This is the journal of Leonardo DaVinci. I won it off of Bill Gates in a bet that I would get to space first.

Bezos winks.

I won.

Bezos pulls out a Boring Company flamethrower.

I love being super rich.

Jeff Bezos torches the journal of Leonardo DaVinci. Shortly after, we get the standard BOB voiceover guy.

Amazon. Insulate and Isolate.



After the commercial, we cut to see the offices of New Line Cinema, 1992. In one executive board room, we see a bunch of people in suits all looking well pleased with one another. The head of the board speaks.

Well, we’ve done it! The script for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III is complete, and I think we all agree, this will be the most incredible superhero film ever made. We’ll be incorporating such favorites as Bebop and Rocksteady, see the dawn of Krang, and the crossover with Batman is going to be a huge success. I can’t believe that Warner Brothers is on board with that one, but Michael Keaton is excited about it too. We’ve even got Steven Spielberg on board to direct, he says he has some incredible ideas and people working on computer animation to get us some of the most mind blowing effects Hollywood has ever seen. Well, let’s go take a brief lunch, and then come back and get everything finalized!

The entire board room leaves, excited for the future. As they do, the phone booth slams into existence. Bobby and TK step out of the booth.

Ah, there’s the fucking thing there!

TK picks up the now known to be original script and synopsis for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III. Bobby rubs his chin.

Cool, let’s destroy it and that way we’ll never have to even remember that movie.

Yeah!

TK hands it to Bobby, who rips it in half. TK then pulls out a Boring Company flamethrower and incinerates it as Bobby tosses it in the air. The duo then duck back into the phone booth and whisk themselves away. Shortly after, the entire board comes back into the room. They see the pile of ash on the table.

Oh, oh no! The script! Well, we have this back-up where the Ninja Turtles go back in time to Japan…

The phone booth then slams into 1995. Bobby and TK step out of the phone booth. The approach a man.

Are you Mr. Granger?

I am!

TK produces a pair of bolt cutters as Bobby cocks an eyebrow. The camera fades to black.

Hey, what are you, those are my pants! Oh no! Not the bolt cutters there!

We hear the man howl in agony as we cut to another commercial.



We see three men sitting in a boat. One of them is older, looking to be in his fifties, and the other two somewhere in their twenties. They're all sitting with rod and reel in hand, having a day fishing. One of the young men cracks open a bottle plainly marked 'beer'. He takes a sip.

Ah. This is the life, ain't it? Thanks for taking us out today, dad. It means a lot.

The older gentleman reaches into the cooler and grabs himself another plainly marked bottle of 'beer'. He twists the cap off, clinks his bottle against his son's, and takes a sip.

Son, I'm happy to do this.

The third young man looks over at the other two.

Can I have one?

With a mocking sneer, the other young man repeats what the first said in a nasally voice.

"Can I have one?" Seriously, dad, why did we have to bring this loser?

Son, he's your step-brother, and as much as I dislike him, his mom is a hot piece of ass who lets me do things to her like she's a cheap whore.

The step-son/brother looks kind of sad.

You are worthless. Here, I brought you these.

The elder man pulls out a warm six pack of Doc Light. He throws it in the water.

Go get it, monkey boy!

The step-son sighs as he's pushed into the water by the other young man, resigned to go swimming for his swill in the lake while both the other men laugh.

When your taste buds can't handle the real thing. Try DOC Light.











[bwo][/bwo]


Bobby and TK are being filmed in black and white, still in their zoot suits. TK is having a few drinks and Bobby is looking impassioned by anger. Bobby cracks his neck, then his knuckles.

There's no gray area with Them No Good Bastards, shit sinks. Theres only fucking black and there’s only goddamn white. You either have what it takes to fucking stand next to US, the greatest tag team in professional rassling, or you just dont. Let me be the goddamn prick to tell ya, the ones that DID have what it took. Weren’t standing very fucking long. With that out of the damn way, our next order of business. I have to show the XWF, bWo, and un-fucking-fortunately OCW fans around the world this shit. Todd, play that clip from Warfare!





Do you see that shit? Seriously, look at it again! Todd, play that shit again!

Todd does as TK asks and plays the clip again. Right before Todd plays the clip TK pulls out a cigar.

Betsy I’ve heard of the camera adding ten pounds, but fifty? All while making you look stubby, as fuck, come on now. Plus, she looks as out of breath as she does in the back. When she trying to bite her fucking ear, for a half hour. I’ve seen it! Then you got Crycana. Look at that goddamn blank stare on that bitch. She looks like a fucking Filipino hooker, the cold blank stare of a woman who sucked too many dicks on her way to get to her position. I hear it’s preferably doggy-style, but, I mean, goddamn that must be the worst! To know without a shadow of a doubt that you’re heading to the fucking meat grinder again, BUT, it is Main Eventing night one of her first Relentless. That’s A LOT of dicks.

TK’s demeanor shifts from playful asshole to complete dickhead with the flip and flick of his gold Zippo. He lights his cigar and continues.

Look, it's time to get serious, we have an undeniable energy.

TK is relaxed and leaning up against the wall smoking on a cigar. Bobby is pacing like a caged animal.

They can talk about our L’s and spread whatever fucking narrative they want, but the last tag team loss we took was to The Thugs. Then we proceeded to dismantle them and Betsy’s new lapdog.

TK looks over at Bobby. Bobby doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood.

They don’t have the design or chemistry, where we have it mastered in multiple degrees. So, bow down! We’re beasts, Hell, even monstrosities. Nah, we’re a different breed. We don’t have time to shed a tear for our enemies. They can flap their cock suckers all they want. What they can't fucking do is deny Us No Good Bastards another flawless goddamn victory.
Their first promo shows a fuck ton, doesn’t it? They have come to the Bastard’s ministry, where we piss Excellence and shit out entertainment. Big differences between us, hoes, here's a quick one.

TK cracks his knuckles and he can feel the intensity of Bobby radiating, like a Super Saiyan’s aura.

We have the fucking timing and delivery. Whereas you waste time and use up all your goddamn energy. We don’t waste any time getting up in their guts. The facts are, you two are trying to reach up just to try to touch our fucking nuts.

TK smirks knowing that these “strong” women will eat that up.

Let’s take a moment to talk about what these clown shoe-wearing bitches are saying. You know what? Fuck, that shit! Not right now. Huh-uh. Let’s put an end to this madness, you’re fucking with savages. You thought we’d fall off eventually? You can put all those thoughts in your casket, so you can lay with them, as they close the lid.

TK makes a finger gun and acts like he’s shooting them like he did Lincoln .

Electrified Cage, are you fucking kidding me? Every time I throw Crycana’s brainless bitch-ass into that goddamn cage, as she starts frying. I’ll think to my-fucking-self. Why does this bitch keep trying the same shit? When every time she fucking fails. Does she think Betsy’s Mid-fucking-level tenure is enough to overshadow her thesaurus-sized loss record from 2020 to 2021? That's the goddamn definition of, stupid fuck.

Bobby snarls and grunts as he continues to pace back and forth.

Trust me, cunts, we’re ready for action! While you lie to the XWF fans around the world, all those bWo fans coming to Soldier Field, and those at fucking home. When you say that you’re beating us in the Main Event. Betsy let be crystal fucking clear when we do collide in that cage. You're going to find out firsthand the difference between ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles when something is important compared to being handicapped and clowning legacies.

The look in TK’s eyes as he finishes that sentence could kill a man on death row.

You two bitches want to talk like because your women you’ll win?

TK begins to laugh but Bobby is all business, still pacing, still angry.

Shut the fuck up. Really? That’s some horse shit you can peddle at a goddamn flea market. Oh, not because you’re women, nope, it’s because you're entitled little Debitaught.

Jimmy could be heard off-camera correcting TK.

Debutantes.

TK glares off-camera in the direction of Jimmy.

I will fucking end you right now, Jimmy!

Jimmy cowers away faster than you can say “Lycana’s Xtreme title run was a fraud”.

Thinking the fucking world owes you something cause you have a gash. Guess what, It fucking doesn’t. In that electric cage there's going to be no time for thinking only reaction time because we’re going on the fucking attack. Betsy and Crycana, you won’t even slow us down because there is no goddamn team on this planet! That can hold us fucking back.

TK pats Bobby’s shoulder as he paces by him.

Before I give the floor to Bobby. I'm going to put a fucking warning out and it pretty goddamn simple. Fuck around find out. Bobby coming the fuck on now and something deep inside him is about to climb out. You all wanted to take it too fucking far now Bobby's kick it into over drive and show you dumb cunts what he's all about.

Bobby looks incensed and intense as he paces. He stops and looks at the camera. He pauses, looks eerily calm, reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, and puts his mask back on.

Woah, I thought…

Nobody gives a shit, bro.

But…

Nobody gives a fuck. I can put this on, take it off, paint it purple, have it covered in spikes, claim it has magical powers, and you know what? None of that even fucking matters, because if you run back what happened at Warfare all you’re going to see is pure pedestrian, run of the mill shit. My mask on or off means fuck all, right? Six years. Six long fucking years in the XWF, and someone gets lucky on a night that ultimately didn't even matter, and nobody gives a fuck some lame duck, Doctor Who knock-off so uninspired that Stephen Moffat won't sue for plagiarism lest he suffer the embarrassment of association took it. Nobody gives a fuck that a doofy werewolf showed up after that pulls new powers out of her asshole every 2 seconds to account for a lack of actual talent. Pale fucking comparisons intended to make fans think of something genuine and actually good like a pair of cardboard cutouts of Jodie Whitaker and Lon Chaney with half the personality. They followed the same exact playbook everybody has before, because coming up with something new just ain't in their DNA.

Preach.

Show up, jump Them No Good Bastards. Just like MorbidMind, EXP, the Dissentients, and the Disintegrators. Thing is, these goofy fucks think recycling the same-old-same-old is somehow novel, that or they just haven't been paying attention, and they're doomed when the bell rings and the realest deal in wrestling today, the all original, the never-before, never-again gruesome twosome that is Us No Good Bastards, so scary because we aren't just two steps ahead we're establishing where you walk, get to work and do what nobody has ever dreamed.

Amen, brother Bourbon.

So, Bets, you're the reason nobody cares I took my mask off or kept it on. I said it before, our history doesn't matter, because your track record just goes to show you aren't and never will be prime time. Let’s go back to March Madness. Betsy came into that show with all the hype in the world, talking heads singing your praises, saying this would be when you turned that corner and came out of the shadow of every name you've attached yourself to in your long but ultimately middling career. Out of the shadows you came indeed, but the lights were too bright. You must've been blinded, and you fumbled. Couldn't get it done when it counted.

Even after March Madness Betsy’s ass still gave herself the title Queen of XWF. Bitch what do you think XWF hands out third place participation trophies? You fucking lost, cunt, not only that you ate the goddamn pin. Ask Warstien!

TK gives his truly distinctive, unreplicable, jerking-off hand gesture. That’s when Bobby takes off his mask once more.



TK looks at Bobby strangely.

Uh…

Bobby rubs his eyes.

Sorry, this whole leading the charge of XWF talent taking over OCW has me a little groggy, sorta why I goofed against Betsy.

But…

Bobby dons his mask again.

Then we go to Leap of Faith. Faith. That's what everybody had that time, right Bets? You might have had a bad go of it at March Madness, and once again the pundits all stepped forward to bring up how this was going to be your big night. This was when Betsy would be in the limelight, the breakout star of 2021, catapulting herself to the stars without the aide of a prop she cooked up while watching BBC America. The Shooting Star Championship, something so valuable it's now defunct, and you killed it that night girl! You helped quash any relevance to that whole division like Clooney killed the Batman franchise in the ‘90s. All the action, all the drama, and like Danny DeVito waiting in line for a seat on a roller-coaster, you just came up short. The big stage was just too busy for you to make your mark yet again.

Leap of Faith, didn’t we kick the shit out of The Disenfranchised at that pay-per-view? It’s fucking hard keeping track when your so goddamn dominant.

TK shrugs as Bobby doffs his mask again.



How are you…

Bobby sticks a finger in his ear and jiggles it while maneuvering his jaw.

All the flying, bro, my ears are popping.

TK is still flabbergasted at what he’s seeing but it's confusing him. Bobby puts his mask back on.

Moving on, we go to War Games! Yet again, this is when Betsy is going to shake off the stigma of being a bit player in someone else's whole thing, and with Lycana at her side, no less! Dang girl, that whole "boys are a let down" thing you're harping on sure loses steam when you realize the two of you failed spectacularly at War Games, and against us no less! Did you let Warstein and Estrada know beforehand it would be their fault you got pinned at War Games? I can tell you aren't accepting of the fact you, once again, couldn't get it done when it counted on pay-per-view, you can't own the fact you let down so many fans of yours again by being the bridesmaid and never the bride. Hell, I can't accept it. I was the reason you didn't do a damn thing at War Games homeslice! That wasn't on account of your misandry, not on account of your ever disappointing method of performance, it wasn't on account of cheap underhanded tactics. It was my talent, plain and simple, prevailing.

Up in, them guts.

TK pats Bobby’s shoulder with a wicked grin adorned on his face. Bobby doffs the mask yet again.



TK rolls his eyes.

How the fuck are you doing that?

Simple, I grab the back of the mask and pull up.

Goddamn amazing.

Bobby and TK exchange their one of a kind, incredible no-look fistbump, as only Them No Good Bastards do. Bobby puts the mask back on.

So here we are at Relentless, Them No Good Bastards defending against the unnamed duo of Betsy and Lycana, and it's time once again for Betsy to prove that in the grand scheme of things, she matters not. See, as little as it matters if I wear a mask or not, your career, as long as it’s been, is even less relevant. You're coming to the biggest stage again, this one bigger than any you've ever been on, for one reason, the same reason you always do, and that's to choke. On that note, I have come up with a few names for y'alls team to use until you split up, inevitably and Lycana goes back to palling around with Marf and you go back to being James Raven's arm decoration and you both completely abandon the "male failure" rhetoric like you were discarding a used tampon. So, first off, there's the Dead Weights, two lumps hoping to get carried but ultimately tossed around by the mighty Thunder Knuckles and the ferocious Mr. Bobby Bourbon. Then there's 2 Broke Girls, which is befitting since we will break you and you're both like a mediocre sitcom barely anyone acknowledges. How about We Go Splat? That's a novel take and a reference to something too big for Lycana to get involved in. Them No Good Bitches? Lord knows you've ripped off pop culture, why not the best tag team ever? Bark At The Moon! Because Lycana has werewolf powers and Betsy is a fucking space case. Wait, you know what TK?

Please keep your damn mask on, it's weirding me the fuck out.

Bobby takes the mask off anyway.



God damnit!

God has nothing to do with it.

You’re not even mute! And where’d the top hat come from?

I’m cool like that.

Well, yeah, we are pretty cool. So, how’s the Scissor Sisters sound?

Ew. I get where you're going, but I think Lycana was a cutter in her time.

HA! Hmm, let’s try, Sloppy Seconds.

Nah, that would mean either of them are fuckable.

The Bushwhackers.

Already taken.

No goddamn way!

Way.

Huh, never heard of them, are they more OCW legends or something?

Nah.

How about Coughing and Wheezing?

Because those are signs of choking?

Fucking-a right!

I like that, but after Relentless, I think the most fitting name for them will be Dead and Gone.

These bitches are going down like the goddamn Titanic.

Bobby puts his mask back on. After that, Them No Good Bastards, raise their XWF Tag Team Championships high in the air. So, Betsy and Lycana, can see the gold shimmer, as the light reflects off them. The Bastards know that's the closest their competition will come to seeing the belts in their true glory. Held by the most prolific tag team in professional wrestling history.