Robbie Bourbon, the Jet Set King of the Jobbers, has taken his world tour a little earlier than everybody else, I guess. Shit. They're all fighting for the Savage Championship, and I'm just sitting over here...

THAT FILTHY PERVERT.

We open to see the Robbie Bourbon dojo for the competitive arts. Inside is a huge group, probably between 70 and 80 people, are all congregated and sitting on folding chairs, watching the wrestling ring in Robbie Bourbon's dojo. Is this a secret event, full of XWF superstars? Is this some dream match that the fans will never see, carried out in private to be settled for the sheer sake of it? Well, they fucking will, especially if the crack XWF production team is on the trail and monitoring the action.

Robbie Bourbon makes his way into the ring, munching on a bag of Corn Nuts as he casually saunters toward his training ground. He waves occasionally as a microphone comes down from the ceiling. Robbie lookes perplexedly at it, reaches under the ring, pulls out his battle axe, and swings it at the microphone. As he does, a deafening sound, to the tune of holy fuck what the fuck that was unnaturally loud, proving kinetic energy has nothing on force once again, this time being transferred into sonic waves, only really hurting your ears at the same time.

What the shit!

The several dozen people seated all turn and gawk at Blue as she swears from the office.

I thought that would be cool.

Same here.

No, you...

arg.

Blue slams the door shut as Robbie removes a pair of ear plugs from his ears. He climbs into the ring and looks out into the crowd.

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Robbie Bourbon, and I'm here to teach your self defense class today. Who here has ever been in a fight, or a physical altercation.

Robbie raises his hand, and several, certainly more than half of the people all raise their hands together. He smiles.

See? We're alive, aren't we? Who got their asses kicked?

Robbie raises his hand, and several, though only about a quarter of the people this time raise their hands. Robbie grins.

See? It's no big deal, we're not made of glass, and what doesn't kill us only makes us into something tougher. Just don't be afraid. You know?

The people start to chuckle, warming up for an inevitable applause. They want to clap at that one, but that was just the bait to their senses, the lure, the thing that would hook them in for the big one.

Now who here has been raped?

Robbie drops his hand as about a third of the people raise their hands. He looks completely miserable at noticing this fact about most of the people here.

Oh, Jesus, I'm so sorry, that's pretty fucked!

The people all chuckle again. From the ceiling, belaying on a roped ladder, comes Jesus Christ, Messiah of the Christian Faith, and friend of the mighty Robbie Bourbon, creator of Christmas, the most legendary and rare Bourbon Man.

Did you call for me, Robbie?

The people chuckle and clap, some making really loud "WOOOOOOOOO" noises just like from Married With Children.

Oh, damn, ladies and gentlemen, here to help me with my rape prevention class today is Jesus Christ!

The people chuckle again.

Now, Jesus H. Christ, in your day, was it common for motherfuckers to go around fucking their cousins?

Well, I don't know. I didn't really get into that scene, sweetie, I just did my thing and stuff.

Oh, okay, so...

Yeah, I have no dad damned clue about that shit.

Okay, awesome. So, today we're going to demonstrate rape prevention techniques. Jesus, we all know you don't abide by non-marital, non-missionary position sex, and rape...

Jesus looks at him confusedly.

Seriously? You know how many people already schlick it off to me? Yeah, those icons of my sexy ass on the cross, waiting to be dominated, sure get a lot of women off, feeling the body of Christ and the sweet redemption of my salvation as the penultimate sexual experience. It's not bad. Great poon. A lot of freaky girls who give amazing head, all looking for me to show them the way.

Oh, wow, that's pervy.

Whatevs, Robbie, sow the fucking seed, don't waste it.

Oh. I thought you were chaste.

Heh, I was. You get crucified and come back to life, you'll get some pussy.

Really?

Got good and stoned beforehand too so it was alright.

The crowd all chuckles at Jesus, who turns and waves to them. The live studio audience gives another loud, yet inappropriate 'woooooo'.

Well, Jesus, wouldn't you agree that rape isn't the same as getting laid? Don't you think it's time to start showing these citizens how to prevent being raped?

Sure thing, Robbie!

Jesus pulls out a can of pepper spray and opens it up to douse Robbie's face completely. Robbie drops to the ground completely.

Jesus Christ!

That's me.

The crowd all chuckles at Jesus, who turns and waves to them. The live studio audience gives another loud, yet inappropriate 'woooooo'.

Cyberjaw and Diamondback run into the ring holding a gallon of whole milk, and begin to flush Robbie's eyes out. After a moment or two, Robbie is back to his feet and standing, though his eyes are completely bloodshot.

Hi, I'm better now. Now, that was pepper spray, which is crazy dangerous and if sprayed indoors can actually have an adverse effect on others around you. Fortunately, that blast was handled by an expert. Now, Jesus, show everybody the real way to deal with a would be rapist. Let's do a little roleplay. I'll be Peter Gilmour, Jesus, and you be, oh, any given woman at any given time since Peter is what is known as a constant potential rapist. He'll go up to women in the bakery, in the deli, in the fruit market, and at hot dog stands. Especially the hot dog stands. He loves to ogle a woman as she hungrily gobble a wiener in front of him as he rubs his member through his god damned creepazoidal bicycle shorts that are like a size too large to help him tuck his erection. He even fed his grandmother pigs in a blanket one time and was able to masturbate about it for seven weeks, and what's worse, he even went around and bragged about it. Always asking people to smell his hands, it's fucking disgusting. He once even told us all a story how he got a middle aged ex-drug addict at Krispy Kreme to eat a warm glazed donut off of his erect dick. What's more, the middle aged woman was actually a very ugly young man in his twenties, and once the donut was gone he got chlamydia of the eye from the cream filling shooting a little too far. Also, you never see that kind of behavior at Dunkin Donuts. America runs on Dunkin.

What the fuck?

Jesus, I'm making a point here. Look, Peter Gilmour has a bad habit of raping himself, doesn't he Jeezy Creezy?

That's right, Robert. I might not understand what the stigma became for sex to only be marital, or just in the missionary position, fucking puritans. Your country was founded by religious zealouts.

Oh don't judge, Mister My-dad-could-have-stopped-every-disaster-ever-except-Ghost-Tank's-shitty-career over here.

Anyway, Peter's over sated sexual appetites would be okay, if ninety-seven percent of them weren't the direct result of masturbating. Rubbing one out is okay, not a sin at all, just a way to relieve stress, but too much of a good thing is never a good thing, especially when you're like Peter Gilmour and have this amazing super dick but absolutely deflated, almost nonexistent balls. Also, most of the people in heaven who have nothing better to do than just watch living people do shit they really were too embarrassed to ask for when living. We have something like the internet, where we like, share, and subscribe, and Peter's massive semen jar that he keeps at his house that often gets carried around by forty squirrels holding a Fleshlight and a set of fake rubber boobs. What do they look like this week, Jesus?

So far Peter has had the forty squirrels holding a Fleshlight and a set of fake rubber boobs look like Jennifer Aniston when she was on Friends thirty eight times this week, Robbie.

Astonishing. And Peter was preparing to rape Jennifer Aniston how many times?

Well, only seventeen. The rest of the times he just sobbed, told her about his mother's Chicken Parmesan recipe, and willingly cum into the mason jar filled with his dead sperm.

But how was Jennifer to protect herself the times when Peter got into his rape rage?

Well, Robbie, we already demonstrated the pepper spray...

No. Something more final. We have a volunteer, yeah?

A girl pertly stands up among the crowd. She's beaming, though probably a little embarassed to be standing up in front of this large a crowd. Robbie and Jesus look at each other and share a slight chuckle at how adorable all of it really is.

Don't be shy, we're not Peter Gilmour.

The girl makes her way to the ring, and a man in the crowd stands.

Hey, who are you to teach this class?

What? You came to heckle someone at a rape-prevention self defense class?

Well, I thought someone like Billy Paladin or Vanessa Gibson, people who are actually good wrestlers, would show up, not the biggest loser in the XWF.

King of the Jobbers. Peter Gilmour has lost way more than I have.

Whatever, you're just some dumbass who's going to go down to the ring just to lie down and get pinned then laugh about it.

I laugh about it with money in my pockets.

You're a phony!

The guy stands up and walks to the ring. He climbs the apron.

Woah, bro, don't come in here.

Whatever, Jesus, I'll beat your ass too, get on YouTube, then get plenty of some real and actual beef curtains in my future, not like that pretend whimsical fuckery you went through with Scully, Flobby Bourbon.

Robbie rolls his eyes and stands holding his chin. Jesus can't believe his ears.

I think we have our candidate. Okay, sir, how would you defend yourself against a rapist?

Shut your mouth!

The guy swings at Robbie, cracking him straight in the mouth and spinning his head sideways. The guy turns around and looks at the crowd, holding his knuckles.

See! He's not so...

Robbie's head cocks back as he spits blood from his lip on the canvas and with a swift spin delivers a massive standing clothesline to the side of the guy's head. There's a loud crack as the man drops to the ground, limp, eyes open, and a trickle of blood flowing from each ear and his nostrils.

Motherfucker son of a cunt, you want to walk into my fucking dojo and be like that, I will fucking wreck your stupid silly ass for that shit...

Robbie mutters to himself as Jesus bends over and checks on the guy. He looks amazed and turns back to Robbie.

My First Name Last Name! He's fucking dead!

The crowd all gives an audible "OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!!" in unison, like someone messed up really bad on the TV show Full House.

Oh, well, can't you...

What? Come on man, you want me to perform a full fledged miracle on this guy? He's already in hell!

Oh, well, shit. Guys!

Cyberjaw, Diamondback, Joe Biden, who is now the Vice King of the Jobbers, and Smashdyface McFace, Islamic terrorist who had his face wrecked with an axe and wears an orangutan mask to cover it up, all come down to the ring.

You guys take this guy to the lab, give him the good treatment.

The Bourbon Men take the man who just had either his neck broken violently or his skull smashed, or both, out of the main showroom floor of Robbie's dojo and down some hall that says "authorized personnel only".

Okay, so, let's get our actual first volunteer. Young miss, I'm sorry for that guy so rudely interrupting you.