Last Warfare, Robbie Bourbon was a veritable buzz saw, cutting through competition so fast there was actually a lull in the action as Robbie had to wait on a pod to open.
All seemed like Robbie would once again win the Hart Championship, until Chris Chaos derailed the notion with a spear.
MAKING IT RIGHT
Malaise fills the air. People flocking through the sidewalks on the city streets all look like zombies, filled with post-holiday feelings of uncertainty. Sure, Christmas came and went, but all the goodwill and cheer seems to have went with it. Without provocation, a manhole cover explodes skyward, and from within a tall, slender robot emerges. It begins firing as panic sets.
The Robbie Bourbon dojo for the Competitive Arts. Inside it is thriving with activity as wrestling students, Duncan Donuts patrons, and chefs all avoid making eye contact with a bored dude sitting at a kiosk selling phone cases. Inside Robbie's office, we see Robbie Bourbon, his ribs still taped up from the events of Warfare, looking grumpy. Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Guy Fieri, right mayor of Flavortown, and Corn, he who is corn, all elbow each other on a sofa that's too small for them across from the desk. Ash, Robbie's stylist, stands beside Robbie, equally displeased.
So, which one of you told the XWF production staff to run that pretaped vignette on the Christmas Warfare?
The Bourbon Men quit squirming and look up at Ash. Robbie sits at his desk, his arms folded across his chest.
Not me!
Not me!
Not me!
Jesus, what is this, a shitty Family Circus comic strip?
All the Bourbon Men look confused as a little ghost smirks beside the couch with the words "Not Me" on his chest.
The Family Circus sucks!
The camera turns to Robbie and he holds up a sheet of paper he just printed.
This is not funny.
Nor am I amused by the error on behalf of the crack XWF production staff...
We see the XWF production staff. Weary, tired, and worn out after working on Christmas, they all enjoy smoking crack together as they roll a tape that was submitted early for viewer consumption in the new year.
...but that's neither here nor there. Cat's out of the bag, I guess. Not only do I enjoy oranges before matches while changing out of my street wrestling gear and getting into my wrestling wrestling gear, but I'm actually involved in a massive storyline with The Engineer, Shane , and maybe the fate of the whole XWF. It's going to be cool, I promise, and fans, I am sorry if you thought I made all of my vignettes in true real time, but, well, very few of us here in the XWF do.
The Bourbon Men all look aghast as Robbie peels back the curtain, showing some of the inner workings of the industry.
But, Robbie, it's cooler when people think that's what we're doing!
Yeah! Like, when Apex was dealing with the Mafia in a series of promos last year or so, everyone believed that happened in real time before the match, and it just happened to be entertaining!
Or, you know, any promo ever to come out, from the dawn of the XWF, it was supposed to be taken as live action, dramatic reality!
And you'd think that production is a part of cutting promos, Chris Chaos would take the time to actually be entertaining or make people care about a match rather than look forward to a slaughter!
Robbie shakes his head 'no' and looks at the camera.
Nope, not at all. A lot of what we do here is planned well in advance, all planned to be entertaining and generate intrigue! Now, the fights themselves, well, they're as real as real can be. Some people get bitter when their creative license is, well, less than others, and extra bitter when they don't win the fight because they thought their creative license was better.
The crack XWF production staff is still in their trailer. One has passed out due to smoking too much crack. Two others are performing an act known as 'linking', making the tips of their penises kiss, giggling like kids on a playground.
So, yeah, that's actually the plans of XWF management, regardless of what you heard.
I'm going to be fighting Engineer sometime in the future because he's a bad guy and I'm expected to be the good guy. So much for my whole 'road to redemption' being interesting, guys.
Robbie purses his lips and blinks slowly at the camera.
But, on that note, whenever you see any error happening in one of my promos, you know full well now, regardless if it's some audio snag that makes my voice sound less orange, or for some reason "/color" shows up on your screen, or even if the dialogue just makes no sense whatsoever...
The crack XWF production staff is still at it, smoking more crack than ever before. They're all completely naked and rubbing Icy Hot on each other.
...well, now you know who to blame.
Suddenly, everybody's phones start going off with alerts. Robbie checks his phone and his eyes go wide.
Shit, something is attacking the city!
Wait, did you plan this or...
No I didn't fucking plan for something to attack the god damned city!
But you just said that promos and vignettes were...
NOT THE TIME!
Robbie stands up from his desk, banging his legs against the flat top surface and wincing. He hustles out of his office.
Where is he going?
Dude, we didn't plan this...
The average ear of corn has 800 kernels in 16 rows. A cob will almost always have an even number of rows.
Corn, when you're right, you're right.
He is right.
Yeah, let's all calm our tits about the fact the XWF production staff goofed up and played a promo wayyy too early, and enjoy the happenings of Robbie dealing with an emergency in real time!
Ash winks at the camera.
Downtown, the hysteria is in full swing. This robot, some seven and a half feet tall, is walking on two leg-like appendages, its torso pivoting willy nilly and shooting laser beams here and there and everywhere, just like IG-11 from the Mandalorian. In fact, it looks just like IG-11 from the Mandalorian.
Directive operational, spread panic, panic leads to intrigue, intrigue means drama, and drama is the only format that matters in the XWF!
Why would this terrorbot be talking about the XWF? Either way, a pair of police cruisers arrive on the scene. Two officers pour out of each and take cover, firing on the robot. Bullets glance off of it, ricocheting into walls, other cars, and what have you: anything in a common city street is struck by stray bullets made errant by the metallic hide of the robot.
Police are here, police drama, crime drama, Law and Order, Christopher Meloni, destroy Christopher Meloni, very dramatic!
The robot opens fire on the police cruisers, causing them to explode fantastically as the police officers dive for other forms of cover, seemingly unhurt. A couple holds hands as they run from the chaos, and the robot notices.
Romantic comedy, not a drama, no drama in a romantic comedy. Sleeping in Seattle was not drama. Death of a loved one means drama, shoot the loved one!
The robot takes aim at the young woman holding her loved one's hand. Without hesitation, it fires.
The laser bolt makes contact with the manhole cover that was knocked into the sky earlier as it tumbles in front of the couple. The camera turns and shows the one who threw it, Robbie Bourbon.
Yo, you looking for drama?
Drama! XWF Superstar Bourbon, sometimes dramatic, sometimes kooky nutball humor, usually entertaining! Must eliminate!
The robot aims at Robbie.
Oh shit!
Robbie ducks and takes cover as a barrage of laser blasts careen past him. He tucks himself behind cover and peeks around at the robot.
You want drama?
I will create drama.
Oh yeah?
Robbie smirks. He reaches into his singlet and pulls out a banana peel. He lobs it in front of the robot like a hand grenade. The robot slips on it with a silly sound effect.
How's that for drama?
Slapstick! This is unacceptable with prime directive, must be drama! I must create drama and suspense, not humor!
Robbie looks up and notices he is crouched in front of a bakery. He quickly rushes inside, and comes back out holding two pies that look to be made entirely of whipped cream! He lobs one at the robot as it stands! The robot dodges, and the pie nails a hapless hoity toity member of the well-to-do in a tuxedo, arm in arm with a woman in a fancy evening gown. The hoity toity member of the well-to-do wipes the whipped cream only from his eyes, still wearing a mask of whipped cream.
Why I oughta!
The hoity toity member of the well-to-do glances at the ground, where he sees, of all things, another pie that seems to be made entirely of whipped cream.
No, slapstick humor continues, Three Stooges, unacceptable with prime directive!
The hoity toity member of the well-to-do lobs the pie at Robbie, but he ducks, and the pie hits the baker who works in the bakery! He too does a standard pie take looking at the camera. The robot begins to smoke.
No, no slapstick, no humor, no funny, not even a chuckle!
Robbie looks down. One last pie.
Well, one last pie, better make it count!
Robbie lobs the pie, hitting the robot squarely in it's robot head, which is really just a metal cylinder with lights and stuff but we know it's the head of the robot because pop culture over the past half century, such as Star Wars, Terminator, the Jetsons, Star Trek, and even Bill and Ted, has dictated robots have heads. This blow is too much, and the robot's head explodes. The police officers leave their cover as Robbie approaches the downed robot.
What are you?
Robbie squats and inspects the robot. The letters "DRW" are emblazoned on its chest.
D, R, W? What the hell is this?
Robbie stands up, and glances around. Paramedics arrive to tend to the wounded. The police all look relieved that Robbie stopped the murderbot that was going on a rampage in the city.
Hrmm, I wonder if there's some way I can massively inflate my word count now to make this look more impressive rather than being concise and delivering a message in fewer words?
The crowd, all in relief, all shoot Robbie a peculiar look as he says this, as anyone should when someone completely annihilates the fourth wall. If anyone is going to smash a wall, though, who better than the Wednesday Night Wrecker?
Yes, the bean counters and wizards who promote the XWF need a message that takes forever to get through with a bunch of pointless, lofty filler!
I need to sound like Chris Chaos! Someone trying hard to be that radio DJ who can fill the empty gaps and ensure there's no silence while we all wait for him to shut the fuck up so the music can start!
Oh, wait.
I am the music!
I am what people are tuning into!
XWF Management aired my vignette early because THAT is my redemption! To be fucking entertaining! To make sure people are having a good time when they watch the XWF, to make sure people are feeling great when they leave, knowing their time was so important to us that we spent our time making sure they felt special, loved, and cherished!
UNIVERSE, CAN YOU HEAR ME!
I WILL BE REDEEMED!
I don't need to brood, or be mysterious, or have some happenstance in my life that makes you empathize with me; people like me because I help them escape from all the shit they already have to empathize with!
I am the most fantastic entertainer this industry has seen, and it's about damned time I got back to entertaining these people like I know how!
As opposed to Chris Incel.
Okay, that joke's getting old.
Well, one last time.
Chris Incel. Chris couldn't find a G-spot between F and H in a dictionary. Chris bought a pack of condoms. Once. Fifteen years ago. Still in the box, they're vintage.
Alright, alright, let's get you guys something fresh to sink your teeth into? I don't want to become a one trick pony, like Chris.
Chris's trick; show up in the XWF, completely unaware of anything that is happening, and insisting that the whole of it must have been on pause since he left to go to some other shitty wrestling company or another, and past that delivering the exact same promo over and over and over again.
Robbie crosses his eyes and puts on a silly voice.
Hey guys, I'm Chris Chaos, and I was supposed to get a shot at the Hart Champion! Now Centurion's calling out Vita Valenteen because people are more interested in a match between him and her and they've been setting it up since XWF Twenty! Looks like I better pull all the fun out of the room like it's dirt on a rug and I'm a vacuum, because I'm Chris Chaos, and sucking is just what I do!
Robbie's eyes go back to dead at the camera as he intently glares, a smile across his face.
Hiya Chris.
Cute trick you pulled on Christmas. You came back, patting yourself on the back so hard it's a wonder you didn't pop a vertebrae, telling all who would listen that you were some be-all, end-all, gracing the XWF once again after wrestling who the fuck cares where, being all pouty because Jenny "Slimecrotch" Myst held a championship in some hellhole of a company that matters as much as the outcome of a kindergarten t-ball game. Aw, boo hoo, Jenny went someplace else to win because she couldn't win here.
And you sure didn't win here on Christmas.
Nah, what you saw was me, Robbie Bourbon, wreckin'.
Punishin'.
Beating asses for the masses and if you don't see that clean your fucking glasses.
Barney Green, bam, dropped with a Robbiebomb.
Michael Archer Jr., boom, dropped with a Robbiebomb.
Then you just sat there, Chris. You sat there for a whole minute. We all did. The people had to wait for your pod to open up, because I was pure atomic hellfire in that ring, putting on the show of a lifetime. The lion at the Colosseum, all the meat coming to slaughter. You got slaughtered too! Hell, it was just a matter of time.
Chris Chaos, bang, dropped with a Robbiebomb.
It being Christmas, I tossed you over to Centurion to finish the deal and put you out of the match, so there was no shadow of a doubt that you were pinned by him in that ring, so when you came pissin' and moanin' about how you deserved your shot, after dipping the fuck out to lose to losers in a company of losers, wherever the fuck that may be, you got it and got pinned by the champ.
So you got pissy and threw a hissy, spearing ME in the process.
Because you were jealous? Probably.
Because you knew you couldn't beat me for the Hart Championship? Definitely.
Because you suck? Absolutely.
But, heh, this is where it gets awesome.
We got the main event on Warfare.
We got a thirty minute Iron Man match.
Which means I got thirty minutes to whoop the dog shit out of you. Not just for the bullshit you pulled on Christmas, oh yeah, you'll definitely be taking a fucking beating for that. Anything to seem relevant, because seeming relevant is the best you can do when you can't actually be relevant. Not just for the fucking crazy horse shit you talk in your promos, your long boring ass promos where you demonstrate you can't tell your ass from your elbow and try, try as you might, to confuse the fans into thinking the fact you're still talking for some reason after you spent fifteen minutes using too many words to say nothing actually means something. No, I'm also going to beat the living shit out of you for thirty minutes, the longest thirty minutes of your life, kind of like how every time you cut a new promo it's the longest thirty minutes of any of our lives, but I'm also going to beat the living shit out of you because it is my job.
It is my job to make sure the people get entertained.
And there is nothing entertaining at all about Chris Chaos.
Because Chris Chaos sucks.
The assembled people surrounding Robbie in the city street, police, EMTs, survivors of the strange robot shooting, the hoity toity member of the well-to-do and baker still with whipped cream all over each of their faces, for some reason a team of cheerleaders, two cowboys, Alexander Ovechkin, Stephen Strasburg, DC native Christopher Meloni, Stephen Colbert, and an astronaut all start to chant in unison.
Robbie keeps the commotion going, and more and more people join in to agree that Chris Chaos sucks. As they do, the camera tilts and shows a nearby rooftop. Two more of the melodrama killbots look on, but in biding their time, knowing that drama is their job, they don't strike right now, since ruining this whole thing would be anticlimactic, and not dramatic.
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
The following 4 users Like Prof. Bobby Bourbon's post:![[Image: 70a20b7c82bffbd6be9160d6b33cded0.gif]](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/70/a2/0b/70a20b7c82bffbd6be9160d6b33cded0.gif)
, and maybe the fate of the whole XWF. It's going to be cool, I promise, and fans, I am sorry if you thought I made all of my vignettes in true real time, but, well, very few of us here in the XWF do.![[Image: DtUCPfZ.png]](https://i.imgur.com/DtUCPfZ.png)
