Sar, I saw the last promo, totes surprised!

You sounded like a librarian!

Now, I get it, you’re moody and broody, it happens to the best of us. Just take a deep breath, look in the mirror, and echo that mantra that you kept quoting me on. Win some, lose some.

Be it Charlie or some other soul who could never get into the stratosphere, well, you win some of those.

But when you put Sarah up against a bonafide creature like me, or say, Corey Smith, and she’ll lose those ones.

No biggie, you can figure it out.

I mean, it’s adorbs you want to invoke Corey Smith’s name, a man who’s been one of my greatest rivals in the XWF for years, but, shit, Sar, you have never been anywhere near the level of Corey, so don’t get into those delusions of grandeur. Funny you bring him up in such a bright light and then say that I, a guy who has held just as many accolades in this company as Corey, is just spinning his wheels. As for bucket list, mine’s just as full as Corey’s, if not even more because while Corey was a multiple time champ I’ve got a grand slam under my belt, my own ride as King, and those couple of times, not once, but multiple times I was a tag team champion in multiple companies.

What did you do again?

Bobby shrugs.

You’ll have to remind some people who weren’t watching XWF in 2020 why you’re important.

But hey, you’ve been chewing up screen time all over the Anarchy brand since then, and good for you!

B.O.B. needs that representative back on Anarchy! Ozzy’s a friend, and Barney is too, but damn, it’s been a while since we’ve had that regular Anarchy brand representation!

I mean, otherwise these “spinning wheels” are just leaving you in the dust, not where you belong.

You belong in the safe confines of Anarchy.

I don't want to be a dickhead, but I guess I'll be that guy
Because you know my greatest virtue is I have never been that shy!
I'll shoot off at the mouth like a gattling gun letting venom fly
Hell, bitch, you were impressed so much you wanted my war cry!
But the time for you has come, and I recommend you just comply
I don't give a damn about whatever horseshit you want to try
It's the compulsion that you want, Sar, one you can't deny
We're B.O.B., my name is Bobby, and you can join us or die.
I'm a classic and a throwback like I was pressed on vinyl
You're an entire can of dollar store hormonally vaginal
I'm bringing trauma in that ring, and the variety is spinal.
Talk to me about Victory? I didn't see you in the War Games final!
I don't give a damn if you want to toss someone a hex
Or try to throw me with some convoluted suplex
You pretend to be a GOAT but I'm a Tyrannasaurus Rex
Sarah Lacklan is everybody's bitchy ex!

Shit, Sar, did you let Jenny Myst write your material for your last promo? Yeesh!

So, yeah, “Hit or Miss” Bobby shit doesn’t fly when Bobby’s hitting, and hard.

You know what, before I go any further, I don’t need to pick apart your every little word. Jesus. Been there, done that, a billion times by now.

Bobby cocks an eyebrow.

You don’t see why I fight anymore, do you, Sar?

What was it, some unyielding churn? Heh, that’s a way of looking at it, now isn’t it?

See, I have done everything, as noted, in this company. You, not so much, but hey, you’ve done everything on Anarchy. Anyhow, you brought up some notion of a, what, some kind of end game?

Bobby smiles, his eyes closed, as though his soul is soothed beyond belief.

There is no end, Sar. Ever. When I got here, sure, I thought there would be. I came into the XWF with nothing but revulsion for what I saw.

And I took every last repulsive part out of it systematically.

Robbie Bourbon, the tactical nuke. Dropping bombs hither dither and mopping up the shittiest class of rejects you could imagine.

See, though, that ended. I suppose there was an ending. Hitch of it is, I’m still here.

Then I was a Motherfucker, and I pinned James Raven for the Universal Championship.

Robbie Bourbon, the last remaining monster. Elusive, abrasive, and maybe too cunning for his own good sometimes, but hey, it was fun while it lasted.

Oh, then we definitely had fun, you still hear the fans in attendance chant it so often for me, Sar.

So we let the good times roll, and there was Robbie Bourbon, master of ceremonies, preaching the word of fellowship and finding joy in your life, and I loved wrecking bodies then too. But, the good times couldn’t last forever, could they?

Enter Bobby Bourbon, the day of the Bastard was at hand, and the dawn of B.O.B. Bobby Bourbon, the king, Bobby Bourbon, one half of the most legendary tag teams in the history of this business, Bobby Bourbon, the man who took down Mark Flynn and won the Universal Championship.

You’re still just Sarah Lacklan, waiting to get something done over the past three fucking years. I can get why you’d want to come after my career in the XWF, though, because between the two of us, I’ve had one.

If you think I have some master plan, well, yeah, I definitely do.

Bobby opens his eyes, still smiling.

Where the line stops for you, Sar, is wherever you want. It can be in the ring. It can be outside the ring. It can be at a pizza parlor, with stickers and streamers, for the March of Dimes on the second Friday the Thirteenth of a year. One Bobbybomb, and poof, you’re completely finished.

Which brings us all to what we’re focused on Sar. You!

I’ll give you that, it’s definitely all eyes on you, wherever you go, however you strut, you’ll spin it and I guess that means you can win it, right?

How in the world do you chain wins? How does beating nobody on Anarchy lead to you somehow pinning me?

Bobby chuckles.

It doesn’t, at all, ergo, it won’t. Mark Flynn won, then won, then won, then I came along. Simple enough, Sar, and don’t be uppity that I can express things in a way even the Barney Greens of the Universe can understand. I’m not an orator, I’m an ass whooper. The Big Bad Big Bad of Big Bads. The Weekend Wrecker. The Sultan of Smacktalk, sure, but that’s because I back it the fuck up with what I do in that very ring.

I am become Doomer of the Doomed. Don’t join the doomed. They got it bad enough as is.

Now that I have taken to assuage your every last question about who I am in B.O.B., are you ready to question Dolly? How about TK? Crash after? They can speak for themselves, Sar, all day, every day. They all agree you’d be wonderful on Anarchy!

How did that sound, Miss Tote?

Bobby smiles into the phone camera he’s using to communicate with Genevieve Tote. From the phone we can hear her reply.

That was not bad, Mr. Bourbon. Where are you?

I’m in the Black Hills.

You have Tacky, right?

Absolutely, it’s why I’m wearing this giant foam cowboy hat.

Is that a part of what makes the Reverse Tachyon Ray work?

Generator, Miss Tote. Reverse Tachyon Generator. The big rewind button.

Got it.

And no, the giant foam cowboy hat looked like fun, no reason I shouldn’t be enjoying myself right now, I’m only about to commit like seven thousand felonies.

Well, Mr. Bourbon, you’re doing it for the right reasons.

Bobby smirks, showing his pearly whites.

I sure am, so I can Bobbybomb someone through a pool table later.

What? No, I thought we talked about this, it’s because you care about Bouncy.

That too.

Okay, well, good luck, Mr. Bourbon.

Bobby removes the ridiculous hat and puts on an equally ridiculous false mustache.

All right, Flynn, let’s see if you’re as good a lawyer as you say!

Bobby walks into the very old Sheriff’s station. A single officer eyes him as he enters.

“May I help you?”

Yes, I’m the representative for Miss Brickhouse.

“Are you her lawyer?”

That’s right. It’s why I have a mustache. And a briefcase.

Bobby holds up his briefcase, no doubt containing Tacky. The deputy rolls his eyes and lazily gets up from his chair. Some dopey YouTube video is playing on his computer screen, and beside the screen on the desk is an ant farm. Bobby glances at it.

You keep pets here?

The deputy chortles.

“I like watching what they do in captivity.”

Ah. Well, I need to see my client.

“I need to sign you in. What’s your name?”

Bobby pauses. This part of the plan wasn’t something he prepared for.

Uh, Vaughn. Mark Vaughn of Vaughn, Vaughn, Vaughn, and Vaughn.

“Are y’all related?”

No, Vaughn’s a pretty common name.

“Right this way.”

Bobby’s eyes narrow. He follows the deputy down a corridor to old fashioned open bar holding cells. Within one is Bouncy Brickhouse. She’s reading a copy of Atlas Shrugged and looks cozy, all things considered. Once at the cell, Bobby goes into action, grabbing the deputy by the back of the neck and cracking his skull into the solid steel bars. Bouncy smiles.

Hey there, handsome.

Bobby blushes.

Hello, my succubus.

Bobby reaches down and grabs the keys from the deputy. He unlocks the door, and Bouncy stands up and exits gracefully and carefree.

Oh my goodness, never use union labor on a job.

Oh, the henchmen union screwed you over?

You know it! I had the plan all set to go, then they all shouted “clean up” and took a fifteen minute break. By the time they came back, well, the sheriff was already there.

Damn. Well, let’s get you out of here.

Okay. I’m surprised, I thought you would have used some wild stealth tech or something.

Nah, I brought better.

Bobby leads Bouncy to the desk where the deputy was seated. He pulls out the small boomerang shaped Tacky and places it on the computer screen, then clicks over to the camera system control console.

What’s that?

It’s a Reverse Tachyon Generator. Basically, you attach it to something, and it de-ages it, makes it travel backwards in time while we move forward.

Like a rewind button for anything?

Exactly.

Bouncy smirks.

Ever think of using it on Elvis’s remains?

Bobby swiftly shakes his head.

Nah, reanimating the dead with it causes very specific complications. We did let a jigsaw puzzle put itself back together then uncut itself.

Bobby presses the button, and the entirety of the security footage reverses itself to an hour before he arrived in the first place. Bobby pauses the recording here, snags Tacky, and smiles at Bouncy.

Not going to lie, I’m impressed, Bobby.

Bobby gently places a hand on Bouncy’s hip.

More than happy to impress, Bouncy.

Bobby gently kissed Bouncy. The false mustache leaves his face and sticks to hers. Bobby and Bouncy share a giggle as Bouncy takes the stage make-up and drops it into a trash can. Bobby looks at the ant farm, and Bouncy notices.

What, that’s just gross, who watches ants?

Bobby smiles and picks up the ant farm, glancing at it for a moment, before shaking it, ruining the intricate set of tunnels built within.

Are you going to rewind that and have fun with your toy?

No, Bouncy. I want to see what they create after I destroy their world.