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B.O.B. D · (09-16-2023)

"The flight is gonna be delayed just a LIIIIIIIIIIIIITTLE bit longer."

"You have GOT to be fucking kidding me," I thought, already having been on this God forsaken plane for 6 hours, now.

"What was that?" the flight attendant asked from her seat.

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" I asked, sarcastically, rolling my eyes at the 'fasten seatbelt' sign that'd been on for the last hour or so. "Forgive me, we've only been sittin' here since the dawn of freakin' time!"

Her face puckered up, but what the hell was she going to do? Afterall, we were on an active runway, and if she wasn't gonna let poor little Muhammad behind me take a dump, she certainly wasn't going to get up, herself; not without being a hypocrite.

"What the hell's the problem, anyway?"

There weren't too many options left. We'd already been delayed because of a leak they couldn't check for BEFORE we got on, weather, the captain having diarhea, his co-pilot finding out he's gay, the flight attendant forgetting her morning coffee, and whatever the current issue was. Worst part is, I had every plan on taking the B.O.B.mobile to Relentless, but Crash Rodriguez lived up to his name and crashed into an outdoor wrestling ring at an outlaw mudshow during a quality hangout B.O.B.sesh. As if that wasn't bad enough, he'd just been doing donuts while shooting his red mac-10 out the window, nicking the entire two member audience in doing so. The impact flipped the car on it's side, denting the shit out of the thing, yet leaving it drivable. Unfortunately Bobby, in trying to fix the situation, dropped the car a little too hard, shattering the glass where the Pope once stood. Needless to say, that was the end of THAT night.

"Welllllllllllll?!" I annoyingly asked, receiving a death glare for my trouble."What's wrong NOW?! You need another round of Starbucks?"

At this point she was sticking her tongue out. "You have NO idea............" Annoyed but, nevertheless, wanting an answer for herself, the stewardess picked up the phone and rang for the captain. After a quick back and forth, she hung up and let me know. "A bird pooped on the windshield."

I couldn't believe it. "A bird. Pooped. On the windshield?.............."

"That's what he said."

"I'm in no mood for 'That's What They Said' jokes!" I retorted, before turning to my Xtreme Championship, buckled safely in the seat next to me, and talking to it like I was Charlie Nickles. "Guess we better see what's up!"

Without hesitation, I unbuckled my belt(as well as Xtremey's) and began heading for the cockpit, all the while being scolded by the useless attendant. "Active runway! ACTIVE RUNWAY!!!" And, just like that, about fifteen other people got up and formed a line at the bathroom, little Muhammad included.

I confidently kicked the cockpit door open, Xtreme Title slung over my shoulder. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

At first, the captain and his co-pilot seemed startled but, upon realizing it was a member of the prestigious B.O.B. organization, they were quick to fill me in.

"Well, D," the co-pilot began like we were old friends. "A bird diarhead on the windshield worse than Captain Jones in that airport bathroom."

"And again on the plane!" Captain Jones chuckled, unphased by the inconvenience of the entire situation.

I looked up, seeing a tiny white streak running down the middle of a spot that hindered neither of their sight. "That?!" They both nodded. "And how long does it take to clean that?"

"Just gotta get taxi'd off the runway and wait for a crew to come squeegee it," Captain Jones informed me as if this happened everyday. "Soooooooooo, probably an hour or two."

"No, nnnnno," I sputtered out, holding back a bit due to the sheer fact they both knew who I was(a more common accurance since becoming B.O.B.) "I have places to be, and people to fight, why can't I just go out there and take care of it?"

"............ because we're on an active runway," co-pilot Ken basically drrrrred at me.

"Annnnnnnnnd?" I responded, gesturing to myself to prove a point. "I'm not supposed to be here, and yet I AM!"

Their jaws dropped. "Oh my God............ he's right." Captain Jones got up and walked me over to the door to the outside. "Fuck the FAA! We've already broken one regulation, might as well break 'em all! Who wants to do a shot with Ole Cap'n Jones?"

"YAAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!!!!"

Everybody finally let loose. While I climbed along the side of the plane, doing my best Spider-Man impression, the rest of the cabin got lit with the flight crew. And boy could Captain Jones party! As I wiped the shit away with the last tampon from the flight attendant's purse(without her knowledge), I could see multiple women running a dick suckin' marathon on Captain, and even a few men for Ken! All I could do was shake my head at them for being little rascals, before making my way back inside.

After taking some time to regroup and get resituated, we were about ready for takeoff. However, right before we could actually take off, Captain Jones got an urgent message from flight control, which he relayed to us over the intercom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there's been an incident on the runway with another plane behind us in line. All aircraft are to remain grounded for the time being." With his bad news delivered, Captain Jones switched back into party mode, entering the cabin with a half empty bottle of Patron and 5 small glasses in each hand. "Now........ who wants to fly MY plane?!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

"Noooooooooooooooooo!" I groaned in succession with them.

"See what you did?" the attendant, who hadn't left her spot the entire time, bitched. She then began to shift, uncomfortably, in her seat. "God I hope we take off soon!"

I looked from her to Captain Jones, who flipped a full glass of Patron off his boner into his co-pilot's mouth, admittedly, perfectly.

"You sure about that?"

Despite now wearing his underwear as a hat, Captain Jones was eventually given the green light. "And we're gerrrrrrrrrd to grrrrrrrrrrr!" the captain slurred over the PA system, only to stop upon receiving more news from radio control. "What's that? Oh, no shit? That's fucked up! How'd he get a gun on board? Enrique? I told you! I tolllllllllld you that son of a bitch was a no good................" Realizing his every word was being broadcast to everyone on board, Captain Jones cleared his throat and continued like a professional. "Uhhhhhhhh, okay, I will let everyone know. Thank you." After a brief pause, the captain let the flight controller know what he thought of him. "Dick................... oh, you're still here? I was talking about Ken. 'God, what a dick!' Yeaokay, thank you."

The captain turned his attention back to us. "So, FAA regulations state that, because of the incident, I'm supposed to let anybody off the plane that wants off. Does anybody want to do that?"

I held my hands together, praying some douchebag wouldn't ruin my flight anymore than it already had been. Sure enough, some overweight buffoon who couldn't even be courteous enough to pay for an extra seat for his fat ass(like I did for my Title!) struggled to his feet and declared to the cabin, "I would like to get offfffff!" He looked like the guy who gave Meg mumps in Family Guy, you know, when the show was actually funny.

Captain Jones', who'd been leaning against the open cockpit door, shoulders sunk and his head dipped in disappointment, a sentiment shared by myself and the rest of my flightmates. Tired of this game, I stood up and pointed at the captain.

"Did I just hear you say the FAA is telling you what to do?" My words seemed to light a bit of a fire under him. "Do you not remember what we say about about F. A. A.?"

"Fuck 'em," Captain Jones whispered with a nod, before yelling it, again, aloud. "FUCK 'EMMMMMMMMMM!"

"YAAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!"

"Why don't you give that guy a Dan Slam and I'll get this thing a-movin'?"

"You got it, captain!" I replied with a thumbs up, turning around and grabbing ahold of tubby.

"But....... my feeliiiiiiiiiings!!!"

BAM!!!!! DAN SLAM!!!

"Feel THAT!" I taunted, receiving more cheers from everyone on board, even the flight attendant! With that, I took my seat for a final time and prepared for take off.

"You know, it's funny, I never even checked to see where Relentless even is this year!" I laughed to myself. "Wonder where the hell it could be?................"

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"No. Fucking. Way."

After all that debauchery, though, we probably deserved it.

"Tommy Wish............. no wait, sorry, John Black........... it's hard to tell the difference sometimes. And that's not a race thing, so don't cancel me; all I'm saying is, those two are basically attached at the hip! The name T.H.U.G.s means more as a whole than either Tommy or John does alone. Remember when I was World Champion? You know, that belt Duke's using as his top prize over on Madness? That doesn't happen without me! And both JB and Wish were apart of that............. well, not APART per se, but they were there together! When neither one of them could take that Title from me by themselves, they had to team up on me in what was essentially a Handicap Triple Threat Match; and even then they didn't beat me! They couldn't get it done when I was teaming with Nedweight, let alone on my own."

"I'm not alone anymore, John, I have thugs of my own, now. And the best part is, they haven't had to help me win a match, or deal with my personal beef; all they've had to do was be there. No one straight told me to go after the Xtreme Championship, but those Bobby Bourbon pep talks certainly served as inspiration to go out there and get something fuckin' done! And if I ain't proof of that, look at TK! Nobody EVER expected that guy to hold a single belt, and now he's fighting for THE Championship! The man who sold me a TV Title shot for a record number of X-Bux is one win away from being the face of the fuckin' company! And something tells me no amount of dollars, real or fake, will buy that belt off of him................ and rightfully so! We're all there. Bobby has a briefcase, TK has a shot, I have a belt, and Crash can do whatever the hell he puts his mind to; as long as it's nowhere near the B.O.B.mobile!"

"I've never been this close to the top, JB, and I'll be damned if I let you rob me of this high like some kind of narc! I respect you John, but not enough to admit you can beat me. I think I've seen you wrestle more than anybody else in the roster, whether as a competitor or a spectator. I like what you do. You're true to yourself and refuse to let society change who you are."

"It's just not enough."

"When they say nice guys finish last, John, they weren't fucking kidding. You can tell yourself over and over again that it's going to be different but, in the end, it never is. Take it from a former nice guy; you can only hold the door for a woman so many times before realizing she'd rather you let it smack her in the face on the way in. Now, I'm not saying you're a nice guy, hell, I still remember the beatings you and Tommy put on me; I'm just saying complacency doesn't usually lead to success............ not unless you're ALREADY experiencing said success; in which case, changing would not be the smartest choice."

I looked the camera up and down, pretending it was John Black with his lone Xtreme Title reign, and Tag Team Title run on Madness that I never even knew existed.

"Oh that is SO you!" I remarked with sarcasm. "I hate to say it, John, but you're clearly the weak T.H.U.G. Not only is Tommy better than you, he's also had to carry your ass to what little success you've actually had! And, I'm sorry, but a Madness Title? A MADNESS Title?! And a Tag Team one at that! You might as well wrestle on Anarchy with all the other hacks who can't cut it on Warfare; oh wait, you do! Well, maybe you ARE stepping out of your comfort zone, afterall, facing me is certainly more of a challenge than anything Vinnie or Duke have goin' for ya. Vinnie still runs Anarchy, right? I haven't been bored enough to check out that shitshow; I'm honestly surprised Lane didn't pull the plug once MeFisto became a Champion!"

"Lesser men have done more than you, John. And I know it eats at you............. it used to eat at me, too. But then I went out and made a name for myself. Titles, gimmicks, big matches, it's all about engraving your name on the proverbial bathroom wall for alllllllllll to see; to the point where they CAN'T look away! I used to call myself the greatest mid-carder of all-time, but then I realized what an insult that was. It was an insult to me, it was an insult to you. I'm a star. My position in B.O.B. proves it, and so does my position on the card. Just a couple weeks ago, I was opening Warfare; now I'm one match away from being THE Main Event! I walk into Relentless with the second most prestigious belt XWF has to offer, and I have NO intention of leaving without it. I've already done that once, NEVER AGAIN! Unfortunately for you, John, you aren't even half the talent that Fuzz was.............. and considering he himself was barely half a talent, that makes you...................... some sort of fraction! And what a small fraction you must be when you add, on top of that, the fact you're still HALF of a Tag Team! Do the math, John, and let me know what you come up with because I, for one, am VERY curious!"

"Now, if you don't mind, I gotta go not Kickout of pin attempts some more, and rub one out. That's how little I think of this match; I'm gonna spark a blunt and masturbate instead of training for it. Why would I need to? I'm already Champion. I'm already better than you. And I'm already B.O.B............ at the end of the day, as well as the pay-per-view, THAT will be the D-efinition of success."

I held the Xtreme Title up to the camera, in order for JB to get a good look.

"You see this? The closest you're EVER going to get to this belt, again, is when the referee gives you the chance to touch it before I brutalize you! So, enjoy 'holding' it while you can because, after Relentless, you'll NEVER be anywhere near it again................. not without harassing me backstage like some kind of pussy!"

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