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B.O.B. D · (11-26-2023)

"Another splendid meeting, Mortimer," an English woman in a pricey mink coat applauded with a raise of her wine glass.

"Thank you, Cynthia," the alleged Mortimer returned, lifting a glass of his own. "We've been blessed with some fine specimens this week, wouldn't you say?"

"Some fine specimens, indeed," another woman replied while taking an almost nonexistent nibble of a crumpet. "I was particularly fond of Miss Merriweather's piece."

"Meeeeeeee?" a surprised Miss Merriweather asked, trying to hide her bright red face under her bonnet.

"Couldn't agree more!" Mortimer exclaimed, grabbing himself a crumpet and literally faking a bite. "Might we get another gander?"

Miss Merriweather's bonnet was now completely over her face, but that didn't stop her from showing off her prized possession.

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"Marvelous!"

"Top drawerrrrrrrr! Top. Drawer."

"Like looking into the magic mirror!"

"Eh, it's okay."

Everyone turned and looked at the out of place B.O.B. D, leaning back in his chair with a half empty bottle of Jager in front of him. In his hands rested the Xtreme Championship which he, as evident by the half eaten crumpets resting upon it, happened to be using as a plate.

"Oh?" Mortimer scoffed. "And what did you bring to contribute Mr................." He leaned forward, bringing a monocle to his eye in an attempt to read D's nametag. "Bob?"

"What did I bring?" the Xtreme Champion huffed back, taking a swig of alcohol, as well as a real bite of crumpet, before repeating himself. "What did I BRING?!" D wipes the crumbs off his Title belt onto the floor, receiving horrified gasps for his improperness, and holds it up for all to see. "Does THAT answer your question, my dear Mortimer?" His snobby tone matched that of his peers, except his was more sarcasm than genuine sincerety.

Mortimer peered through his monocle, once more, but only for a moment. "My dear boy," a snooty Mortimer huffed, pulling the glass from his eye with a frown. "That is neither elegant, nor a plate."

B.O.B. D patted what was literally known as the plate of the belt before shoving it in his skeptic's face and pointing. "MY dear boy," he retorted with false offense. "What do you call THAT?!"

"Cheap. Metal."

A pouty D chugged some more Jager before defending himself. "Are you kidding me?! This is one of a kind craftsmanship! How many of your plates are original works of art?"

"He's got you there, Morty," Cynthia said through a sip of wine. "Your rarest piece is the 1 of 2, is it not?"

Mortimer's grip on his glass got a little tighter. "That......... it is." He took a D sized gulp of his wine before defending himself. "But MINE's worth over a quarter of a million dollars; what's the value of that hunk of junk?"

The ladies joined Mortimer in a round of laughter, but the Xtreme Champion was having none of it. He jumped to his feet and leaned forward, whispering just loud enough for all of them to hear.

"Ten pounds of gold." His response was a reference to the potential next step his winning Sunday could bring him, but the socialites took it literally.

"I hate to break it to you, chap," a cocky Mortimer chuckled. "But $223,720 isn't quite a quarter million."

"It's still a fine looking piece," Miss Merriweather, who secretly found D cute, squeaked from beneath her bonnet.

"Thank you," the Xtreme Champion clinked his bottle of Jager against her glass, cracking it, before turning to Mortimer. "Besides, I don't care about the money. I'll soon be receiving a briefcase much more valuable than cash."

"Is it a get out of jail free card?" a now tipsy Cynthia joked. "Because Laura's husband could sure use one of those!"

"Fuck. You. Bitch!" an equally tipsy Laura fired back with a slap to the arm, sounding more like a wasted white girl than an upstanding citizen.

"Ladies, please!" an offended Mortimer begged as they each cheersed a shit-eating D. "Plates, not potty mouths!"

A flirtatious Laura giggled, covering her mouth with one hand and fanning herself with the other. "Apologies, Mortimer," she hiccuped midsentence. "I don't know WHAT'S gotten into me."

A still inebriated Cynthia had to prevent herself from making a 'That's What She Said' joke. "Neither do I." A burp slipped, stinging Mortimer's ears worse than nails on a chalkboard.

"Perhaps we've had enough wine," he pondered with disgust, reaching forward and taking the bottle off the table. He then tried to do the same to D's, but the Xtreme Champion managed to pull it out of reach just in the nick of time.

"Not wine, bro." he said with a shrug and a chug.

Miss Merriweather, sensing things were getting a little out of control, attempted to steer the conversation back on track. "Maybe we should get back to the plates."

"Here! Here!" a grateful Mortimer cheered.

"I've got another piece I'd like to share," Laura stated as she reached into the bag at her feet.

"I bet you do," Cynthia muttered through a sip of freshly poured water.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Laura ignored Cynthia's rude comment, mostly because she was feeling too good to care, and showed off her plate.

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"Brilliant!"

"It reminds me of a Bob Ross."

"I'd eat off it."

"Meh."

Everybody, including D, turned to the unimpressed Cynthia in shock. Laura, who was now taking it personally, dangerously plopped the plate on the table and crossed her arms. "Oh yeah? I don't believe you've shared anything yet, CYNthia!"

"Ha!" an overconfident Cynthia sneered. "I was trying not to put the rest of you to shame..............." She reached down and picked up a plate of her own, which she showed off with pride. "But I suppose you've left me with no other choice."

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"Stupendous!" Mortimer commended, wiping tears from his eyes. "An absolutely BRILLIANT work of art!"

"It's beautiful."

"Hate to say it, Cynth, but it's wonderful."

A jealous B.O.B. D looked at his Championship, upset that none of his newfound friends appreciated it as much as he did. He almost respected Dio a bit more knowing he at least wanted the belt.

"Hold on!" D interrupted, reaching down into a bag of his own(which mostly carried his weed), and pulling out his one last ditch effort to bond with his fellow Fancy Plate Society members. "I've got myself a winner right here!"

To the shock and horror of the entire society, B.O.B. D revealed a plate showcasing an image SO terrible, it would put TK's Artistocrats joke to shame. Mortimer was mortified, Cynthia puked, and Miss Merriweather was oddly turned on by it. Laura, who'd secretly done MUCH worse, seemed unphased.

B.O.B. D looked at the object in his hands, ignorant to the graphic nature of its contents. "Soooooooooo, do I win?"

Mortimer snapped out of it, happily disposing of his monocle and getting to his feet. "Oh yes, you've won," he calmly said before laying into the Xtreme Champion. "You've won yourself a one way ticket OUT of the F.P.S.!"

"Bobby and TK liked it..........." a defeated D sighed.

"I have no idea who this 'Bobby' or 'TK' are," an infuriated Mortimer rose his voice. "But if they are ANYTHING like you, then I'd rather NOT meet them."

"I......... don't understand."

Mortimer took a deep breath before telling D exactly how he felt. "You are an unintelligent, classless, imbecile with no manners, or respect. I've seen monkies more civilized than YOU. I'm not sure how you got in here to begin with, but it'd probably be best if you left the way you came."

The ladies accompanying Mortimer fell silent, leaving a hurt D on his own. He looked down at the ground as the head of the society shoo'ed him away. The Xtreme Champion trudged towards the exit, that is, until the words of his future opponent filled his head. Upon remembering Dio's preaching of kindness, as well as his desire to join B.O.B., D stopped in his tracks.

"I think I can remedy this situation!" an inspired D said with his pointer finger extended.

Without another word, he reached for Cynthia's plate, picked it up, and smashed it on the ground. Cynthia pointed and laughed as Laura broke into tears, only for D to grab her plate and destroy it, as well!

"What are you doing?!!?!"

B.O.B. D rushed towards Mortimer, who about had a heart attack as the Xtreme Champion got in his face. Sounding similar to a Jim Carrey character, D answered him in an outlandish fashion.

"I just wanna be your friend!"

D bent down and grabbed one of Mortimer's fine dining pieces he'd kept hidden, with the philanthropist struggling to get it back; to no avail.

"Please! I'm BEGGING you!" he whined, stretching as high as he could to reach the plate dangling over his head. With it out of his enemy's reach, B.O.B. D flipped it over and took a moment to admire it.

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"Have you ever seen a Phoenix fly, Mortimer?"

As D asked his question, Mort's eyes grew wider than grapefruits. The Xtreme Champion then tossed his plate like a frisby, forcing his adversary to chase after it. Almost as if slow motion, Mortimer dove for his plate, only for it to be JUST out of arm's reach, smashing against the ground right in his face.

"Nooooooooooooo!" he bawled, picking up the pieces and stroking them like some sort of sick pervert. "You were my babyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Without any sort of remorse, B.O.B. D turned and walked away from the pseudo crime scene with a smile on his face.

"You see how ridiculous you sound, Dio? And I ain't talkin' about 'Holy Diver,' either! No, I'm talking about the misguided way you seem to think you can get into B.O.B."

"Kindness............. kindness?! If you ask me, I think you're kind of an idiot for thinking that has any place in B.O.B. Sure, a different perspective might be a nice change of pace but, let's be honest, this isn't ACTUALLY about B.O.B., is it? Couldn't possibly be; if it were, you'd know you have a better chance of getting in by laying down for me than winning! Have you not seen the lengths Bobby & TK have gone through in order to ensure I get my briefcase? Tag Team Matches, intentional Disqualifications; do you REALLY think they'd let you in for ruining our chances of keeping the Universal Championship within the Brotherhood?! Not. A. Chance."

"I'm SO close to that insurance policy, there's no way we're willing to start over. There's no way I'M willing to start over. Dio, if you were as kind and committed as you claim to be, you'll do the right thing. Pay-per-view defenses aren't easy, but the newest member of B.O.B. sure could make it that way. That's what being family is all about. You help me retain MY Title, and I'll help you get YOUR TV Title back. That sounds a helluva lot better than whoopin' each others' ass all over the arena, just to have the same result ANYWAY, don't ya think? Especially when, in this scenario, you actually get a belt; hell, you even get to be B.O.B. And, let's be real, that means more than any Championship, XWF or otherwise, EVER could!"

"But that's not who you are. No, you're the honorable type who'd rather die fighting than live with the shame of laying on his back for another man. Well Dio, one way or another, you WILL lie down for me, even if I have to MAKE YOU; and I ain't talkin' about none of that Eobard shit!"

"You seem to think I don't have what it takes to be nice when, in actuality, YOU don't have what it takes to be bad! Nice guys finish last, so I put myself in a position to win. Do you know why they call it the high road? Because you have to be high to take it! Sure, you'll hit a few green lights along the way but, eventually, you're gonna hit a red or two and, when you do, it'll put a halt to ALLLLLLLL that momentum you had going."

"B.O.B. doesn't stop for anyone, or anything! We blow through red lights like we own the place.............. 'cause we DO! The fact you think you deserve a spot amongst our ranks while also believing you can take my Title from me only shows how NOT ready you really are. And that isn't to say you don't have the physical qualifications, a former TV Champion is no joke, you just don't have the MENTAL ones. You don't break another kid's toy and expect them to be your friend, you're supposed to share yours with THEM! I know I would've been more than willing to spread the wealth, when the time was right. Once I get my briefcase, I'll have no need for this belt anymore. TK's got his Universal Championship to worry about, and Bobby's gonna be busy trying not to tear Flynn apart as Tag Team Champions; so, needless to say, I'm gonna need to find a successor for this here Title of mine."

"It could've been you, Dio. Your kindness came THIS close to paying off but, unfortunately, you're not the team player B.O.B. needs you to be. For an alleged kind human being, you certainly are selfish. I could respect that, if you weren't so fake about it. I left my wife to be here, what the hell have YOU done?! All I see when I look at you is myself............ my OLD self, that is. A pussy fighting a foe he cannot defeat. You're Big D to my Miss Fury. And, if I learned ANYTHING back then, it's that nobody beats B.O.B. Do all the good deeds you can because, come Sunday, I'm gonna slap all the care out of your deriar!"

B.O.B. D goes to leave, but notices a cowering Miss Merriweather holding up her unharmed plate. D calmly approaches her and takes hold of it, examining it carefully.

"It really IS like looking into the magic mirror," he commented, seeing his reflection staring back at him. "And I see a future briefcase holder..............."

D returns the plate to a shocked Moss Merriweather, who holds it tightly against her well endowed chest. He then turns and walks away, looking into the camera with a slight grin.

"For the record, I CAN be kind and successful.................... I just choose not to be."

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