Greetings from BourbCo!

We see Bobby flashing a huge smile, but he looks creepy, like Ron DeSantis or Hunter Biden, not really happy.

You know, we have been thrilled to bring you, the consumer, the finest products your money can buy at the utmost best prices we could. We know during these trying times of uncertainty, you should buy shit, and if you’re going to, it might as well be from BourbCo. Battle Apes©? We have you covered.

We see a squad of orangutans dressed in Vietnam era uniforms. One has “Born to Kill” scrawled on its helmet along with a pin with the peace symbol. The duality of man expressed on an ape.

We’re proud to be the company that delivered Happy Face© to the world, because sometimes those gray skies won’t clear up, but it’s okay to put on a Happy Face© and deform your face into a smile for sixteen hours.



And who could forget the beloved, and now yearly holiday staple, Snow-in-a-Can©?

We see a sad looking man in the sunshine as we see a “Welcome to Florida” sign behind him. He opens a can of refreshing Snow-in-a-Can© and he’s got the holiday spirit. We go back to Bobby Bourbon’s office, where Genevieve Tote is seated alone on the couch across from his desk.

Mr. Bourbon, I see you’re quite focused on your business.

I mind my business, Miss Tote.

That’s, um, good, Mr. Bourbon.

Miss Tote, with you having helped polish my image in the past few months, well, my stocks are higher than ever!

Really? I didn’t hear anything in the news, Mr. Bourbon…

We skyrocketed from being one fifth of a cent per share to five cents per share!

That’s quite a jump, Mr. Bourbon.

Hell yeah it is! I had one-hundred thousand dollars in BourbCo, employing the finest sweatshops around the globe, creating jobs. Multiply that, and I hate math so don’t ask me the numbers, but now I have two point five million! I got to reinvest into my company!

That sounds exciting, Mr. Bourbon, I can email Forbes magazine, I have a friend in the editorial department from college there!

No time, Miss Tote! I’m not a well-to-do hoity toity type, no ma’am, I’m an innovator! An inventor. As such, I have contacted my congressman, and am glad to repurpose all the radioactive waste in North America by retooling it!

What, Mr. Bourbon?

I’m making Plutonium, Miss Tote!

Genevieve goes wide eyed as Bobby’s mad grin cracks his otherwise intense face.

Okay, Mr. Bourbon, why are you making plutonium?

I wanted to.

Well I’m glad we’ve established it’s something you wanted to do, but why do it, Mr. Bourbon?

Well, Miss Tote, I simply need plutonium to unveil the next great innovation from BourbCo that will take my shares from five cents, Miss Tote, to new heights. Imagine. Ten cents a share. Maybe we’ll explode and go up to fifty cents per share!

Is that when I can call Tammy? She’s wanted an XWF star to do a Forbes cover shoot for eons.

No time, Miss Tote, because once I hit that benchmark, I need to sell something else, and to sell it, I have to make it. My company’s stock doesn’t rise advertising for Coca-Cola.

Bobby holds up a Diet Dr. Pepper and sips from it.

What do you want to sell that requires plutonium, Mr. Bourbon?

Something far more exciting than Isaiah King’s offense, for certain, Miss Tote. BourbCo has prided itself on the fabulous array of baubles, trinkets, knickknacks and doodads. Our novelties are simply the best. Plus if the package says for novelty use only, I never have to issue refunds.

Miss Tote takes note.

Is that how that works?

I have never issued a refund, Miss Tote, my products are that good.

Well, it sounds like you're planning something bigger than, well…

Genevieve scrolls her tablet page.

…all this frankly pointless stuff in your catalog. Does this actually grow you a mustache that lasts thirty minutes then dissolves?

The Thirty-Minute Mustache© is one of our best sellers.

Noted. What about this thing here, Fake Mail©?

Ah, a classic. We will send you a fake package!

Genevieve furrows her brow.

I don't understand.

It's very technical, Miss Tote, getting into specifics would reveal trade secrets.

I see. Well, this product, Mr. Sick Day©, it says it’s just like Plutoxin 7 from Escape from L.A. come to life, could you explain?

You’ve never seen Escape from L.A.?

Mr. Bourbon, I was born after the Nineties.

Right. Well, it’s a 24-hour cold that lets you use your sick time from work, worry free!

Sorry for spoiling Escape from L.A., by the way.

Ah. Well, Mr. Bourbon, what do you need plutonium for specifically?

Well, Miss Tote, you see, novelties are fine and well, but I need to take that next step.

Bobby stands, looking very full of himself.

How big of a step, Mr. Bourbon?

Leap of Faith.

Last year, it was right within my grasp, only to be thwarted.

I hate being thwarted.

Plus I can’t rent helicopters anymore.

But damn, just go look at the Leap of Faith poster, and criminy, they put one of my old masks on the Mona Lisa. I feel obliged to be a part of the main event, even though I’m constantly told nonsense from the higher ups about the match itself.

Like “No, Bobby, you can’t just knock over the thing holding the briefcase, you have to jump from the thing onto it” or “Bobby, it’s not a pinata.”

No vision from some folks, I swear.

Like take Jay Omega. Jay Jay the space man is coming into this match trying to solidify that legacy, get that foothold as one of the all time greats in this industry, or at least, maybe he will. Maybe he’ll be good time Jay, the space stoner, or maybe he’ll be straight-laced fuddy-duddy Jay, so pedestrian that the promos will be from Joss Wheedon’s cutting room floor for the season of Firefly that never happened.

Oh, and Jay, I know how dangerous you can be in that ring. You beat me in the March Madness tournament, after all. Cleaned my clock, left me down and out. Well, win some, lose some. I’m not going to hold onto the past and trash you for nothing, nope.

In fact, Jay, I have just the product from BourbCo for you.

Which one?

The True North Compass©.

Genevieve scrolls on her tablet, then taps the screen.

"This incredible device will always say you’re pointed north."

Wait, this seems like a broken compass.

Miss Tote, not whatsoever! It is the perfect device for the directionless. Does Jay Omega want to compete in the Leap of Faith match? Does he want to run after the Tag Team Titles, giving the champs a rematch? Those rematches are nice, Jay, I know it, and that’s also coming from the only man that Raion Kido wanted a rematch against.

Fair enough, Mr. Bourbon. What’s this, Anti-Thermal Socks©?

Miss Tote shows us all the picture of two oven mitts sewn together to form the shape of a boot.

Yes, Miss Tote, for those days spent at the pool or on the beach when it’s really sunny and hot out. Slap those babies on and your feet won’t feel like they’re getting burnt.

Like sandals?

Sandals? Pssht, no way, grandma, that's what the ancient Egyptians were wearing. Anti-Thermal Socks© are the future!

Noted, Mr. Bourbon.

Thank you, Miss Tote.

Genevieve keeps scrolling.

Which of your products is best suited for Isaiah King, Mr. Bourbon? I’m kind of interested, you’re treating your entire novelty company like a utility belt.

Yeah, eat your heart out Just-Us League!

Mr. Bourbon, what do you want to give Isaiah from your line-up of products?

Well, for Isaiah, heh, that’s an easy one. The Thinking Cap©.

Miss Tote scrolls down and finds said device. It’s a pink plastic helmet with two cup holders and a set of tubes that come down and form a straw. On it, in comic sans, it reads “Let’s make bad decisions!”

This looks like it’s for a sleazy bachelorette party.

Like for a shotgun wedding.

Well, yeah, that was the intent, but I’m pretty sure Isaiah King is brain damaged. I mean, for starters, have you seen his talent bio? The dude lists “submissions” as a signature hold. Just “submissions” in general. Well, okay, I don’t doubt, the dude is a beast and can go in the ring, but being all that cohesive isn’t his strong suit sometimes.

Take last Warfare. I saw you there, Isaiah, being so coy, wearing a cute mask, shooting me with fireworks and showing off your favorite stolen wrench after. Why, so you could get into Ned’s head? Ned’s stuck in Ned’s own head. Shortly thereafter, where you attacked me, ad nauseam, like I wouldn’t catch on, thinking yourself awfully clever, that shit?

That there is a death sentence in most countries.

But, then again, you seemed perfectly fine with Big D coming out and punking out Ned on live TV, so I feel you’ve scrambled your motivations so much trying to pull a three card con job that you wound up forgetting which card was the Queen of Diamonds yourself.

As such, Isaiah, here’s your opportunity, and it’ll solve every little problem you have, we took note, and we talked about it. Crash, Dolly, TK, and Big D are well on board in saying welcome aboard!

That’s right, Isaiah, your convoluted attempts to get our attention worked. We get that you’re not so good at everything, even if you might be damn good and what you are good at, and that is where we come in! Think about it, Isaiah, so many of your peers are destined to fade away and fizzle, disappear. Myself and Dolly know a thing or two about career longevity, we’ll guide you. TK has become a household name helping me become a household name. Big D is iconic. You, sir, you want your face on BOB Rushmore alongside giants, and it shows!

All you have to do is stay out of my way at Warfare. Go put sand in Ned’s opponent’s lunch or something, I don’t really care. That’s the beauty of BOB, Isaiah, we want you to do whatever you want to do, except we’d give you a bomb and tell you where Ned’s rental car is parked.

I know you don’t have to think too hard about it. Your actions showed it. Hell, it’s why you went out of your way to beat Kido; to impress me!

Shucks, if you were BOB you’d be Universal Champion right now. Someone has misguided you and instead you got a non-title match.

Never take the non-title match.

However, make the most of the opportunity now. There’s a short life span on the offer, bud!

Genevieve lays her tablet down.

Okay, Mr. Bourbon, I see you have some focus on your opponents, but why the plutonium again?

Bobby looks genuinely pleased at this point.

As we have had a history of providing innovation to the consumer and that’s why we’re proud to introduce to the world one of the most exciting ventures we have ever undertaken. You’ve heard of Ford, you’ve heard of Mercedes-Benz. Shit, you’ve heard of Tesla for fuck’s sake, and there you go. As such, to all of you, the consumer, I am proud to present to you, the Bourbon.



Bobby shows Miss Tote a picture of the automobile he designed.

What makes it so special?

I’m so very glad you asked!