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Them No Good Bastards stand in front of an array of folks from all walks of life. Bankers, truckers, retail workers, students, parents, selected plants in the audience to make sure everything runs more smoothly, and one Delores Blumpkins. The SHIT Talk is well underway.

THE MASTER SESSION Part 3

A PowerPoint presentation is being shown on a large pull-down screen. That way even the cheap seats can read it. TK presses a button to the next slide as Bobby Bourbon reads.

Deciding How to Trash Talk 102.

TK gives a smirk and then presses the button, another slide flops onto the screen.

Identify the situation.

It's not fucking hard people. There aren't too many good fucking trash talkers in XWF these fucking days. We’re the best there is and we’re goddamn Tag Team Champions! Hell, we’re so fucking unstoppable they even pulled a trash-talking legend out of the garbage, or retirement, ah, who gives a fuck? They only did it so 'Ol Thunder Knuckles, himself, could rip him apart. I mean, he probably thinks it’s so he can try to save his princess, Lame Brain Main. Isn't that right, Kay-Diss?

Hiya Jim. Welcome back.

TK hits the button and the next slide comes up.

Read the crowd.

TK looks around the room and sees nothing but marks.

You're all in fucking trouble with this one.

Well, they're the crowd. When all of you have a crowd you'll get it.

TK presses the button again making the next slide appear.

Know the environment.

In our goddamn case, we're rasslers. So talk about rasslin.

Exactly. Say you horde tigers. You would talk about other tiger hoarders, like in Tiger King.

TK makes the next slide show up with a press of a button.

Technique 2. Getting inside your opponent’s head.

This can be fucking obtained rent-free before the match.

And written off on your tax return.

TK again presses the button making another slide come up on the screen.

Boast about your skills.

When you know you're the goddamn best. Fucking talk about it.

Exactly. Take us. Greatest tag team in the history of wrestling. What makes us the greatest? Two reasons. Reason one, Thunder Knuckles. Reason two, me.

TK with the touch of a button makes yet another slide appear on the screen.

Insult your opponents.

Take our Leap of Faith opponents for example. Lycana is dog ass ugly that's why every twenty-nine and a half days she goes full pooch.

Marf sniffs his own farts to remember what he ate yesterday.

TK pressed the button this time cockier. Mostly because he was able to talk trash on his opponents for Leap of Faith.

Use humor to your advantage.

I don't fucking get this one, Bobby.

Bobby smirks.

Everyone else does bud, don't sweat it.

TK still confused about the last slide, presses the button again. Which allows another slide to take place of the prior.

Know when trash talk isn’t working.

It always works, If you're Them No Good Bastards. This is a dumbass bullet point.

Not everyone's a Bastard, TK.

Kinda like our opponents at Leap of Faith you see those dog shit promos, Bobby?

Dog shit is rich in nitrates that feed the lawn and is a means for dogs to communicate and mate, so it serves an actual purpose, as opposed to the Dissentients’ promos.

TK excited again that he could get a solid jab in on his Leap of Faith opponents, he pressed the button this time enthusiastically.

Technique three. Building up your own self-confidence.

Sounds fucking stupid to me.

Build yourself up.

But if you're baller ass Gods like Them No Good Bastards. You don't have to do this. NEXT!

That was a fine example.

TK presses the button and you guessed it makes another slide show up on the screen.

Keep the pressure on your opponent.

A fucking must. You take your foot off the gas and you end up like Cuntinuum, fuck that supergroup. You know the one Them No Good Bastards beat.

There'll be more. The heat is on any tag team to prove us wrong.

TK presses the button as the slide takes the screen he makes a “what the fuck face” as Bobby reads.

Don’t let your sportsmanship suffer.

You can obviously skip this fucking step.

TK quickly presses the button completely skipping over this part of the PowerPoint presentation.

Anticipate trash talk directed towards you.

Another very fucking good one. Oh, but don’t Corey Smith yourself, that's for goddamn sure.

People all the time use my weight against me.

Yeah, like that bothers you. I get it though but that normally comes from Unoriginal, uninspiring, trash.

Isn't this just a load of crap? I mean, this seminar is just like free drinks.

Goddamn it, Delores! How many fucking times do we have to say there are NO GODDAMN FREE DRINKS! For fucks sake, Bobby.

Bobby shrugs. Bobby knows what he’s doing and if Warstein wants to get his money he better bring his partner with him. That's about the time a man in the crowd stands up and agrees with Delores Blumpkins. The little round man is wearing a “Trump America” shirt.

Yeah, Delores is right this is fake news!

TK looks over at Bobby and nods. Them No good Bastards walk toward the portly man.

Now, why would you go and say something as goddamn stupid as that?

We’re totally handing out diplomas after the class. It says so on the brochure.

The brochure also said there’d be free drin-

SHUT THE FUCK UP, DELORES!

As soon as TK finishes yelling at Delores, Bobby Bourbon grabs up the heavy-set man wearing the “Trump America'' t-shirt. Bobby then hoists him vertically as TK takes off and jumps off of a chair to hit!!!!!

THE RAINBOW LASER DEATH SEQUENCE!

Remember class when all else fails... Resort to fucking violence.

Well put, bro. The abuse doesn't end with the verbal variety, and as a funny shirt I saw a guy wear in the 2000s said, the beatings will continue until morale improves!

This is bullshit!

Delores polishes off her fifth of rotgut.

I haven't learned a damn thing I didn't already know. There are no free drinks. I want a refund!

No refunds!

Bullshit!

Delores, you know what? I like the cut of your jib. You're now a Bastard Man!

Along the bottom of the screen, text reading "NEW BOURBON BASTARD MAN ALERT; DELORES BLUMPKINS, CRANKY DRUNK LADY" scrolls across.

I don't want to be a fucking Bastard Man!

Bobby, remember…

Shit, yeah, you're right.

Along the bottom of the screen, the text scrolls, instead this time reading "NEW BOURBON BASTARD MAN ALERT; IT'S STILL DELORES BLUMPKINS".



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Thunder Knuckles turns toward the camera and sits down a gas container. Bobby is spilling gas around the room as TK begins to speak.

Something The Disinfectants fail to fucking realize is we waited our time. We did what we had to do to get to where we are. Just ask MorbidMind when you face them. Oh, wait, You can’t face talent like that because we retired that goddamn team. Back on fucking topic, the Disinfectants, like every other goddamn team we'll ever face, will point to our loss to Betsy Granger and Atara Themis. We calculated everything we’ve done from the time we formed. But you’re right we lost.

TK makes a shocked face sarcastically. Until he becomes all business again. As TK is making his “shocked face”, Bobby smiles, knowing that TK is being an ass. Bobby still continues to put gasoline all over the place.

Unlike our goddamn challengers on May 30th, instead of them taking their asses back on the horse after they cost us at Snow Job. We took on stiff competition. Which is how we upgraded from challengers to getting these.

TK and Bobby Bourbon unconsciously clink their respective tag titles together, without needing to look over, or without being signaled to do it. Impressively Bobby continues to throw gas while doing so.

Well, you’re facing a true fucking tag team and true goddamned champions. What are you doing with the opportunity that we’re easily robbing you of? That's right, doing what Baphomet taught you all those months ago. Sitting on your mother fucking hands. Doing fucking nothing. Talking the same lame-ass garbage you did before you even stepped into the ring with us. Jesus Christ, you people need to come up with a better goddamn game plan because what you’re doing just isn’t working. I hate to be the one to break it to Marf, man. Ah, who the fuck am I kidding? I’d love to be that guy. Anyway, Lycana isn’t going to be good enough to carry your ass this time, dickface. Know what you need to do Marf? Find yourself a muscle bitch. You know, like a bodybuilder-type bitch. Someone REALLY strong, but ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles doesn’t know if Maxxine is even around anymore. Alright, enough trying to give advice. Just make no goddamn mistake, you two, when you hear the XWF fans inside the XWF space station…

TK looks over at Bobby. TK pulls out a cigar.

It is a space station, right?

Bobby shrugs knowing Warstein won't get off Twitter long enough to come to the XWF to collect his money.

Doesn’t fucking matter! When you hear the pro-BOB crowd that comes to the fucking moon via OUR MAN, Elon Musk. That’s right, shit heads, Elon Musk is in fucking BOB, deal with it. Those fans' screams and chants will all be for us. Now, to be fucking fair, ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles is sure you got some piss ants in the back telling you that you have a chance in this match, each team does.

TK gives his remarkable and unequivocally brilliant jerking-off hand gesture, nice and slow for Marf specifically. He suddenly stops and gets serious. Bobby stops spilling gas and sits the empty canister down.

I for fucking one certainly hope you believe them.

TK pauses for a moment to let that sink in for Them No Good Bastards’ opponents. Bobby looks at his watch as twelve and a half seconds elapse.

Yeah, I know you’re surprised but I’m fucking serious! Fear fucking not though! It’s only that way so that I can see the hope fade from your dopey ass eyes as one of you fuckers go through a goddamn glass table. In fucking doing so, costing the other, now properly fucking cleaned hand, the match.

TK smirks and winks into the camera for effect. smirks and winks into the camera for effect. Bobby is patiently waiting but you can tell he has something to say.

If you think you’re stepping into the fucking ring with like of The THUGS, Dream-a-maniacs, Charmos, and Edgar Allen Dipshit then you’re seriously fucking mistaken. We live for these titles! Unlike you two fucking fairweather asshats. While after Snow Job you guys concentrated on singles runs, we did what we had to do. You teamed up with Ethos after Snow Job. Let’s talk about real failure for a goddamn second.

TK gives a cocky smile as Bobby is starting to fidget with anticipation.

Nah, never mind, Lycana already did that for us. Despite it all, Lycana is stubborn until the bitter fucking end, isn’t she? Not seeing that coming must have really taken a mother fucking toll on her ass.

TK chuckles to himself for a moment before getting back on track. Bobby grunts.

You two creepy abortion clinic screw-ups aren’t going to be the team that stops us, that's for fucking sure. You’re fucking with peanut butter and jelly, while you two are peanut butter and mayo. I’d say pump the goddamn brakes so you don't look so fucking foolish. BUT, Jimmy made me watch your god-awful promos, looks like you already have. Now, get the Hell out of our way, go back to being the perfect poster of domestic violence, and let Landfill get what’s fucking coming to them.

Peanut butter and mayo? That sounds disgusting.

TK looks bored of talking about The Dissentients.

Fuck these ignorant shit stains, Bobby! I'm fucking sick of talking about them. Do you have your spoon ready? Because these mother fuckers are instant bland-ass original oatmeal. Not even a name brand, more like, Dollar General Brand. No, no, like Family Dollar Brand you can buy a two-pack there. Either way, dinner, albeit shitty, is served.

Bobby scratches the scruff on his chin. TK begins pouring his gas container all over the walls.

Well. Oatmeal shitstains are pretty bad. Not as bad as the Dissentients though. Boy oh boy, Marf, I called your promos dull and you didn't disappoint. Granted, you likened me to Bowser from the Mario games, but flattery will get you nowhere. Yes, I'm large. Yes, I'm ginger. Yes, I am a pure fucking boss so epic and recognized that people around the world recognize me. Congrats, you stated the obvious, but sorry kid, your princess is in another castle.

Bobby puts his hands on his hips.

Now, there are some out there that would call y'all the Foghat of the XWF. I don't know what the fuck that means, but I know they mean it.

TK with a sudden burst of brilliance after finishing off his canister, speaks out.

I think I get it, Bobby! Foghat had one really big hit “Slow ride” kinda like The Disinfectants with their tag turmoil win, that they were lucky to get.

Ooh, I get it now. When Foghat was in their heyday, they were still outclassed by legends like Queen, the Eagles, and Black Sabbath. The Dissentients have been on the long road to another tag team championship match, winding and turning, but they sure took the fucking scenic route to get to Leap of Faith. Pit stops here, stopovers there, and the jalopy pulls into its destination, just to break down? Y'all are coming in, foot on the pedal, running on fumes, and then the wheels fell off. We’re moving along in the fast lane, you're just in front of us going under the speed limit. Shit, you wanna think you're playing Mario Kart, in reality, you're Frogger jumping in on the highway just in time to get run over. These aren't contenders, TK, they're fucking roadkill.

Bobby shakes his head. TK, who has found a towel, begins waving it on Bobby Bourbon who is clearly hot right now.

Lycana, I'll give credit where it's due. At the time, your involvement in the Left Hand was what brought the Dissentients to the dance at Snow Job. Since then, you have shown that you are more than just pawns of Baphomet. Thing is, do you know what's better than breaking away as someone's pawn? How about never being one, to begin with. The two of you saw the light of day and grew once your special daddy figure abandoned you. Left high and dry, you flourished. Well, Marf is still developing, I'm sure once he finishes puberty he'll be the talk of the town. What I don't get though is why the fuck you waited so long to come see us again, and why you went through Tag Team Turmoil just to get to us. We're not picky, we don't dodge anyone, if someone calls out Us No Good Bastards, we answer. Truth is, you bided your time, you waited it out. The two of you could have had this throwdown yesterday, a week ago, March, April, in some seedy dive bar, at a truck stop, or at the food court of some dying mall. Don't bullshit us and the people saying you couldn't wait when that's exactly what you did.

Bobby scratches his head. TK puls the cigar to his mouth and pulls out a matchbook.

Now, I get you guys are really, really trying hard to get on that hype train to sell tickets. Don't worry your little heads about it, as soon as Them No Good Bastards were on the marquis sign it was a guaranteed sell-out. I know you guys are trying as hard as you can to sound like legitimate threats to our championships; keep trying. It will take an act of God to wrest these titles from our cold, dead hands, and even then we'll rise from our graves and defend them. I know y'all are trying to get in our heads and disrupt our game. Nope. The Dissentients, the biggest try-hards in the business, couldn't beat us on Earth, and they won't beat us anywhere else in the solar system.

Not in this fucking galaxy, or Mario fucking Galaxy, No, not in any goddamn Galaxy.

Not in the whole motherfucking universe. Say, TK, did you hear Marf say a glass tables match is 'ridiculous'? Did you hear Lycana talk about smashing glass like she's some delinquent busting bottles behind a gas station?

Just like most mother fucking amateur ass teams. They can’t stay on the same goddamn page. Tisk fucking tisk, dumb asses.

TK, do you know who introduced the glass tables match into the XWF?

Brenda, from 90210?

Uh, no.

Bobby looks queerly at TK.

I did.

Bobby shakes his head briefly. TK shrugs.

How the fuck should I know that?

Regardless, oh, Relentless one, do you know who's going to master the glass tables match at Leap of Faith?

Them No Good Bastards

Them No Good Bastards fist bump, then turn, and walkway, once a safe distance away. TK lights the whole matchbook ablaze, lights his cigar, and tosses the lit matchbook onto the gas, igniting the room. The camera pans up to reveal a sign that reads "Legacy Inc." as one side so engulfed in flames that it forces the sign to fall to the ground. The scene fades to black.