Them No Good Bastards defend their hard-earned Tag Team Championships against the Dissentients on the Moon May 30th, 2021 LIVE ON PAY-PER-VIEW!

The Masters of Smacktalk could hold a seminar on what they plan on saying.

THE MASTER SESSION

We open to see a large meeting hall. Row upon row of chairs line the room, with a tidy and elegant little station with coffee and other refreshments toward the back. In the hall, we see none other than Jimmy, Thunder Knuckles’s head coach. He glances around, and sees entering the room are the Bourbon Men, Bobby Bourbon’s entourage. Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Ash, Bobby’s stylist, and Axe Mannix, Axe man on Xanax, all enter the room. Cyberjaw and Diamondback bolt towards the free drinks at the back of the room.

Uh, hi! I didn’t expect to see you guys here.

Ash’s eyebrows perk slightly as she is still gazing at her phone. Cyberjaw and Diamondback proceed to make a mess out of creamers and sugar, having yet to pour a single cup of coffee.

Dude, they got french vanilla!

Fuck that noise, hazelnut all day.

Axe walks up towards Jimmy.

Please tell me you’re in charge. I’m trying to find Thunder Knuckles. He’s got a match at Leap of Faith! We can’t let what happened last year happen this year!

Axe starts to cry.

MY WHOLE LIFE IS SPIRALING OUT OF CONTROL!

Jimmy starts to massage his temples and looks off and notices Diamondback and nods.

Where does he find you people? Where the heck are those guys? The Dissentients have been saying a whole lot about Them No Good Bastards and they need to know! Plus, they have to record for the next BOBtube exclusive! Fury wants this upcoming seminar recorded as a DVD boxset with varying prices of entry. You know, like Diamond Dallas Page did with those yoga DVDs.

Ash walks over to Jimmy and puts her hand on his shoulder.

Don’t worry they’ll be here soon. You look pretty stressed out.

Stressed ain’t the word, lady. Thunder Knuckles has barely been putting in the time at XWF video archives with all this BOBtube stuff. I get it, it makes money, but come on we have to get them ready.

They’ll be ready for the seminar. It’s what they do.

The seminar isn’t the biggest priority, it's the match itself!

If I know Bobby they’ll be ready.

Yup. Bobby always gets into some kind of hijinx prior to his matches. Hell, half of the XWF has to deal with some kind of malarkey prior to their matches. Haven’t you ever heard of Corey?

It’s a glass tables match and it only takes one of them to get thrown through any one of them to lose! Do we even know how many tables there are going to be?! We need answers!

You really do worry a lot, don’t you? Just relax, take a deep breath.

Jimmy mumbles under his breath so no one could hear him. Jimmy has learned to be quiet when he makes backhanded comments, through his time with Thunder Knuckles.

Must not have seen Warfare, huh?

Jimmy then begins minding his own business while rustling through his notebook, which is always at the ready. Another seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds go by before Bobby Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles enter the room. As soon as they do Jimmy starts in on everything he knows about The Dissentients as he quickly walks up to Thunder Knuckles.


Thunder Knuckles, man I’m glad to see you the Dissentients have a move called the Catapult Meteora an-

First off, the catapult is a stupid fucking move, Jimmy. Only stupid fucking rasslers, use stupid fucking moves, like the fucking catapult any-goddamn-thing. Second of all, I don't give a flying fuck about the Disinfectants.

TK looks over at Bobby, then back to Jimmy, and smirks.

Yeah, ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles figured since they’re still trying to get the Left Hand stink off of themselves. The least I could fucking do is fucking help them with a name change. That’s not why we’re here though Jimmy I know you've probably been boring the shit out of the Bourbon men. Speaking of which, hey, Bobby?

Yeah, TK?

If Jimmy is here and the Bourbon men are here does that make them “the Bastard men”?

Bobby looks over at Ash, who is back buried into her phone screen. Axe Mannix is lying on the ground in the fetal position, gibbering to his axe. Diamondback has added a drop or two of coffee to his sugar and cream, cramming sugar packets into a fanny pack for later. Cyberjaw, who has been paying attention and silently shadowing Jimmy, shakes his head 'no'.

Yes. Yes, they are.

A scrolling text shoots across the bottom of the screen reading "NEW BOURBON BASTARD MAN ALERT, IT'S JIMMY" letting you know what's up.

Aw man.

Shh! Won't he belt you?

Fuck no!

Of course not, we're the ones with the belts!

Bobby and TK clack their titles together in togetherness without looking.

Fucking-A, right!

Is there any more creamer?

Did you use them all?

There were only like 27.

What time does this fucking thing start again?

We have just about 2 hours before showtime. We should really go over your guys’ opponents backstage.

Jesus Christ, Jimmy! Why’d you have us show up so early we could be out at the bar having some fucking drinks. Hell, Bourbs could be eating a bucket of mango habanero wings.

Sweet and spicy.

As Them No Good Bastards walk backstage, with the Bastard men. Jimmy can’t help himself.

I’m serious these guys had to go through five other teams to earn this spot.

I know, Jimmy! We were on fucking commentary. I saw them beat the Thugs who already had to deal with the Dream-a-maniacs.

What about Edgar and Demos?

Shit team, thrown together at the last second, and their promo’s fucking sucked because of it. Not to mention, the goddamn Landfill tag team with Cooper and Stone.

Avalanche.

Thunder Knuckles slaps Jimmy so hard that Jimmy forgot what he was talking about for a second.

Yeah, Landfill, that’s what I said. Anyway, Stone took it-

Woah!

Well, he fucking did!

Not the time or place.

TK looks around the room, which in a few hours, will play host to a trash talk seminar.

You’re right! We’re not getting paid for that yet. Good thinking, Bobby!

Bobby shrugs away the fact that stopping TK had nothing to do with getting paid and everything to do with rape.

So, what do you want from us?

Yeah, this Jimmy guy seems on top of everything.

MY LIFE IS MEANINGLESS!

And he's pretty useless.

Guys, guys, guys! You're here to help put on the ole' razzle-dazzle.

Please don't say you want us to dress up like the Dissentients so you guys can do a spoof of Happy Days or Family Matters.

Dibs on Marf.

No, no, we’re doing premium content for BOBtube, no awesome original programming.

We still have like a ton more old Nickelodeon set pieces from the '90s.

And we got that CD with all the old TV theme songs.

We don't even have a CD player.

We brought this!

Diamondback produces a cassette tape.

It’s a backup, on cassette.

No tape deck either.





People of the assembly, we now demonstrate the power and purity of genuine, unbiased, jet-fueled fire being belched, hurled, and heaved at the enemies of your one and only true Tag Team Champions of the XWF. A verbal beatdown so savage, exemplary of not only our confidence that we will retain at Leap of Faith, but against all comers. No tongue-in-cheek sexist innuendo, every bit of it blatant. No snide or backhanded comments so hypocritical even a child would call bullshit, no, our hypocrisy is flagrant and ultimately pious. We do no wrong, my brothers and sisters, and they commit every sin imagined, beckoning for the reckoning of penance, and through our thoughts and deeds, we will deliver any team foolish enough to leave the locker room into the very salvation they truly deserve at the capable hands of the staff of the local emergency room. I, Bobby Bourbon, am but a vessel, and prepare yourselves for the almighty high holy hellfire delivered by the lord's own Thunder Knuckles. Congregation, I say unto thee, let us give pause…

With his hand flat and palm facing the sky, Bobby gently gestures towards TK.

...Preach, my fellow Bastard, and be the shepherd for these lost souls.

Bobby bows his head.

Let’s face it. I only understood half of what Bobby said, but ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles knows it means you can fuck straight off. If you think this is The Disinfectants’ right place, right time moment. Goddamn, Jimmy has been bitching in my fucking ear since tag turmoil ended. He’s fucking all worried that these shit cans can pull out some amazing promos full of fucking mystery and suspense. Who the fuck cares? Noone, and I fucking mean, no one wants to sit through an entire Lycana promo. Name one fucking person. Nope. Can’t fucking do it.

Amen!

Then you got Marf’s dumb ass. Jimmy told me what Marf’s weakness is.

Bobby smirks with a grunt.

Oh, yeah?

TK smirks back all arrogant and cocksure.

Yeah, he said Marf’s not a high flyer. I asked him what that means but he couldn’t say more. Like, what the fuck does that even mean? Jimmy also says this mother fucker gave up being the 24/7 champion acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Only to fucking challenge for it again the following day on XWF 24/7 access.

Hallelujah. Not so tough when you coach a bunch of kids into stupid behavior. You convinced children math was bad. Look, just because you don't know trigonometry, just because you think exponential equations are football plays and Jesus, you're Canadian, couldn't even measure a football field right to begin with, fuck me, just because you can't do basic math because you're a product of a school system so backwards you wound up keeping the queen of another country on your currency and get confused by any number with more than three digits doesn't mean you should tell children smarter than yourself they don't need math. It's akin to telling them they should eat candy for breakfast or that heroin is just fine. You awful fuck, you!

Let’s just hope the mother fucker knows how to make it to the ring for the beating we’re about to put down on these fucking… What did that bitch call ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles?

Marf?

No, the actual bitch.

Lycana?

Yeah, that’s the one. God fucking knows she's been wanting to play with yours fucking truly. Oh yeah, what she said, second rate. She called number twenty-four, second rate. Funny how the cunt wanted to use what 'Ol Thunder Knuckles has done in his career as weapons, mind you, against the likes of fucking Robert “Walnut Brain” Main. Then call ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles second rate. What’s that make you, slut-wolf? A dollar off coupon for Charmin Ultra Soft? Get the fuck outta here with that shit. If it wasn’t for BOB no one would have given a fuck about the Left Hand and all ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles had to do is open his golden-tongued mouth one fucking time and the Left Hand-

Thunder Knuckles makes an explosion gesture with both hands and noise to simulate said explosion.

-Bawcker-

Poof, mother fucker, gone. No fucking war needed. ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles spoke and they ceased to fucking be, and what remains is the fucking shit tag team, from a shit stable, that was so goddamn bad that at Snow Job they cost us a match. Oh, but it didn’t take us long to get back up to the top of the fucking mountain though, did it? Fuck, no, we got Cuntinnum, Cuntiuum, Cuntinue, ah, fuck It! Who cares? They haven’t been shit since Dock left’em. Anyway, That’s what the fuck we do! Break down, mother fuckers, and send them home with fucking nothing. The Disinfectants are going to learn the hard way, just like fucking CentRuben did. Them No Good Bastards aren’t here to play. We’re here to hurt, maim, injure, destroy, mother fucking kill the fucking competition. We’re going into a fucking glass tables match. You’re entering Hell, and I’m not fucking talking about the one you were trying to raise. Oh, no, not the one where you were going to walk among the other left-handed fucks wits. No, no, I'm fucking talking about the one where you realize so long as we hold these.

TK raises his tag title without looking to his right. As TK does this Bobby raises his to the left. The belts clink and the light catches it just right to see them both shimmer as they connect.

You never fucking will. Not that Marf doesn't already fucking know. Our guy Dixon took the one thing that put him on the map for like fifteen seconds. Marf? My fucking guy? Why haven't you told the, not your lady, were-slut, partner of yours, that BOB's here to take everything from you? Including this goddamn opportunity to be more than what Marf truly is-

Thunder Knuckles winks into the camera.

-a 24/7 joke. Marf you told XWF fans around the world we were sweating that you two clown-ass fucks were entered in tag team turmoil. Give me a goddamn break, dawg. We’re looking for GOOD fights, straight-up. Not you two creepy shits. I mean, you fucking said it yourself, mother fucker, in one of your goddamn promos against Dixon. There’s a bit of a difference between Dixon and us. Right? Sounding familiar? They’ve actually beaten credible opponents and earned their belts. You know then like you goddamn well know now. You’re not credible. Dixon has proven he’s capable of capturing gold. Let’s see if he holds it longer than you. Spoiler alert, mother fucker, I’ve seen this one. He will.

TK looks over at Bobby and makes spooky fingers with both hands.

We can do spooky scary promos too, bro. Maybe next time, you barely squeak through some kind of hokey-ass match that allows you to challenge for these beautiful gold belts. We will show you that, but for now, our tried and true methods of breaking down our opponents will do just fucking fine.

That’s right, TK! We’re crushing bodies in the ring like we body fools on the mic, straight crushing it. Surf's up, deep-sixing Dissentients, time and tide wait for nobody, we're a tidal wave of violence, y'all just gonna wash out like we're the bleach in the laundry. One cup and pow, the shit stains are gone. Preachers wish they could elevate the afterlife like the way we raise hell. If we were candy, we’d be cannabis lollipops, dope on the stick. Y'all are trash and we're a donation. People try to give you away, we're gifted.

TK cuts off Bobby.

God gifted.

TK kisses the palm side of his index and middle finger as he looks up into the sky, then points up to the heavens with those fingers, and finally looks back down into the camera.

Everything we fucking do is number one. Which makes you number two, at best, at worst, and the more fucking likely of the situation, you got lucky to have a number at all. I mean, goddamn, who'd you have to beat again for this shot? Please for the love of all that's fucking holy. Tell us which teams you beat to get here. Seriously, I'll match our resume with yours any day of the goddamn week. Disinfectants we are, what you're not. Problem Solvers. Ask Duke or Corey, our policy is fucking Obliteration, no matter who or where we let our D's Drop. On the Moon, Earth, Mars, Your Anus-

I knew you were going to do that.

TK smiles because of Bobby Bourbon but doesn’t miss a beat.

-Fucking Neptune doesn't goddamn matter! You're going through a glass fucking table! You're going to eat a Rainbow Laser Death Sequence! You're going to fah-king lose! Now if you don't mind me, 'Ol Thunder Knuckles is going to let Bobby Bourbon eat what's fucking left of you, not just the left hand, we’re not Alias.

Bobby looks perplexedly disgusted.

Who the fuck wants to be? Anyhow, the dismembered digits from the sinister hand…

They weren't that fucking sinister.

Sinister originally meant left handed.

TK looks pleased.

Goddamn, you use your mouth prettier than Riley Reid.

I got a silver tongue, bud, but that woman could go to work on me and I'd be golden. That girl is a solid ten, as opposed to Lycana, who is a sloppy seven and a six if you're sober. Not that her looks matter all too much, shit, compared to her I'm a zero in my book, I keep the mask on to keep from scaring myself when I brush my teeth in the morning. If you want to talk ugly, though, it's the damning situation that Lycana has found herself in. Alias, for better or worse, is going to bring a helluva lot of violence to the ring with him, I reckon, and you're probably going to have to go to war with the sumbitch. Win or lose that match, you're coming up against the nastiest, meanest, most vulgar team in this world, the next, or whatever comes after, Them No Good Bastards, and when you come limping down to the ring there's no way you're carrying Marf with you.

Nope.

Now the two of y'all pulled a helluva little stunt on Warfare. You got the better of us after blinding my partner. I hope you hold on to that moment. Cherish it. Remember it, commemorate it, and fucking celebrate it, because it's the last damn time you got the better of us.