A phone rings out as the scene fades in, interrupting the end credits.















(February 19th, 2021)










We pull back from the phone as a hand reaches down to answer. As we zoom out, we see Johnny sitting in his office at the BOB training facility. He places the phone to his ear.

[color=#800000]"It’s time. I need you to meet me in Grand Forks, North Dakota on Tuesday, understand?”

Understood.

The line goes dead and Johnny hangs up the phone. He lets out a sigh and stands up and opens a locker where he digs a gym back out of the back. He tosses it on the desk and unzips it, spreading it open to reveal a black and yellow karate gee with a fist punching a chicken printed on it’s back. He pulls out a black headband and looks it over reluctantly. He ties it around his head and throws a punch.




















[bwo][/bwo]


BOOM! COCK-PUNCH!


The scene fades back to the credits.






[bwo]CREDITS!

JOHNNY - COCK PUNCHER[/bwo]

“Ladies and gentleman, I, as you know, am Oswald Autem Sephtis. Owner and CEO of so many other companies underneath the Ozzymandias Inc. umbrella. And you know Miss Fury, one of the big brains behind our success, and one of the most dominant women in XWF! Then these men need no goddamn introduction, but here I go anyway: Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Motherfuckin’ BOURBON! TK and Bobby, tag champs of two different companies, showing the dominance of the tag teams in the XWF. And on top of that, Bobby is your reigning and defending TELEVISION CHAMPION!

We are TEAM BOB and we have come here to fuck shit up and destroy your teams. I’ve said it time and time again, and I’ll reiterate this point for a reason: You and you and you and you and you.”

“You five ignorant, blind idiots, have no idea the superpower you let loose. Seriously, for all the people on the opposing teams, their captains? Bunch of imbeciles. Get this. Fury? Near the back end of the line and got to not only pick up Them No Good Bastards, even though you had ample time to break them apart, but I was on a roll in this company. I became Star of the Month, I DEFEATED one of the damn captains in Dick Powers. So tell me, why would you let me stay with the core of BOB? Why would you not want this-”

He shows off his flashy suit and then fixes his tie

“Monster... this absolute breaker of bones and nearly unstoppable beast. You knew what was happening. Mr. Last Pick decided ‘Hmmm, BOB is almost the full original group. I’ll pick Ned Kaye instead of the God of Fates and Destruction.

You saw an absolute breaker of Captains and decided to not draft him. You saw The Bastards, and didn’t try to break them apart. You let Fury basically give you the entirety of the XWF one of the biggest L’s in this company's history. Because of what? Oh, I know exactly what caused your losses.

Ignorance and stupidity. Just as Fury has said time and again. We get away with what we want because YOU people LET US! Well, now we grow tired of this game! Let War Games stand as a lesson to you feeble minded fools! You think that Miss Fury doesn’t know what she’s doing by inciting you all so?

You’re wrong.

And we welcome the challenge, but it’s already too late for you at War Games! You goofed by allowing the established to be, then you all fumbled whatever chance you may have had by failing to work as a team. Just. Like. We. Knew. You. Would.

It’s simple, really. You just can’t develop a bond like ours out of nothing. Unlike all of you, who think of nothing but yourselves, we have a connection that runs deep and serves to remind us why we do what we do! We are the forgotten! The tossed aside and ignored! Before BOB, none of you gave two shits about me! I was nothing but a constant joke played for the amusement of Vinnie Lane! That is, until I stole back the narrative and ripped the cheap wig off of Lane’s bald head! Now I’m The Billion Dollar champion, and come the post War Games Anarchy, I will be your ANARCHY CHAMPION as well!

Then there’s TK! What was TK, other than a running gag who was known only for his immense love of X-bux, and willingness to lay down for the right price? Or what of Bobby Bourbon? Forgotten, washed up, considered a general non threat, DESPITE his reign as Warfare MVP! That lack of respect, along with the considerable offer from Miss Fury, would lead to the creation of what you all continue to claim isn’t the hottest tag team in XWF history, but also fail to prove them wrong!

The four of us, we are BOB, THE BOB, and even this late into the game, and with you facing your ultimate failure, most of you still refuse to admit the challenge laid out in front of you! Shawn Warstein will not make the difference. Whomever survives to the end, YOU WILL FACE A VERY STRONG BOB TEAM!

This is why you will all lose and BOB will reign victorious.

When one BOB wins, we ALL win, we will ALL win, and there’s not a goddamn thing any of you can do about that.”

You allowed BOB to grow into the powerhouse that we are today, and why? Because none of you had the initiative to actually look outside of your own worlds to see the monster growing around you! When the dust settles on the battlefield and the survivors that BOB allows to live sulk home to tend to the wounds, they can remember that they have only THEMSELVES to blame. In 2019 the world was warned. BOB IS COMING. Nobody cared. In 2020 we framed and jailed the XWF’s beloved reformed bad girl, and still, the universe charged on as if nothing had happened. As we began to collect your belts, our names suddenly held enough merit to utter, but always in passing, or as part of some lame joke. Always writing us off for the cartoonish villains that we portray. In 2021, the jokes were exchanged for jealousy. The Bastard’s have wrecked everyone that was placed in their path, here and elsewhere, and not one team has posed any serious threat to this day!

That includes any of the War Games teams! Corey? Duke? Who cares? Let them kill each other and we’ll pick off whatever foul creature slithers into the main event! The Nickleman? Dirty Dick? Another case of two teams with bitter rivals, and another team that, no matter which advances, they will most assuredly advance a man or two down! Caedus and Main? Oh, the heat between those two! So much for the Ape in Ape-Leg. Not that Ape-Leg ever had a Leg to stand on! Welcome back, Shawn! It’s time for another round of duck, duck, EGO! Of course, you come out of the gate ready to take BOB down single handedly! Always the star in your own mind! That’s exactly why as a team, we do NOT fear you Shawn Warstein! We don’t need an evil plan, a crooked referee, or control over the books for the four of us to step into the ring on Sunday night and completely tear Estrada’s Angels down to its very last survivor, and oh how I hope Betsy saves her big gun for last! You say that it’ll take an army to put down Shawn Warstein? Good, I just so happen to have one! Good thinking to get that excuse out in the forefront after seeing the writing on the wall of the dumpster fire that you got roped into. Teamwork from that side? Unlikely at best! Reggie’s fucking off and doing his own thing, which is aiming to keep his head low and his words soft in hopes that BOB doesn’t leave him a bloody pulp at War Games! Atara suffered enough embarrassment on Savage, and while childishly blaming BOB for her failures, she’s still wise enough to realize the beating she was in store for, so she fucked off. Lycana? Thoroughly covered already, and she has given me no reason to revisit the topic. Betsy? You could see it in her eyes. The childlike wonder in her eyes as she listened to Warstein go off on his ego-fueled rant where he wouldn’t let the poor woman hardly get a word in without shushing her. Funny how Betsy’s Team seemed more like Reggie’s team in the naming, but at the end of the day, it turns out it’s actually Shawn Warstein’s team! She has all of her hopes placed in Warstein, pretty much admitting to the world that she thinks herself shit compared to him. That really sucks too, because while Warstein is a decent enough wrestler, he’s not “good” by any means, as already pointed out in spectacular fashion!

I must admit, I do so think I shall enjoy watching as this team continues to fall apart at the seems now that it’s under the crushing weight of Shawn’s ego. That’s actually far more entertaining than just waiting to see which of you “Angels” were going to stab the other in the back first. I was banking on Atara by the way, so congratulations on the upgrade in both PRE and POST match entertainment!

But you’re all STILL losing!

Oswald and Fury begin laughing maniacally as we cut to an advert!

[bwo]We see Bobby and TK standing in an average, run of the mill kitchen, which is to say in a regular television commercial kitchen. Ad space for War Games? Yep. So, standing at the center island in this cathedral of a kitchen, which is way, way bigger than the average American kitchen, is Bobby along with TK.

Hi, I’m Bobby Bourbon, champion of all television.

And I’m Thunder Knuckles, a former two time champion of all television.

Together, we’re champions of all tag team wrestling. But we know great television. From hits like the BOB Team, Bob’s Island, and Porky’s 2, we know what TV is all about, as such, we’re proud to tell you about Hungry Bastard.

Hungry Bastard is the best TV dinner, fit for TV champions, TV challengers, TV citizens, TV doctors, and even TV fans.

That’s Right, TK. Made from the finest blend of separated meats, some kind of starch, and sauces, you’ll be living like a champ in minutes after you take this frozen tray of foodstuff-like items and throw it in a microwave for a short amount of time.

It’s better than prison food!

Hungry Bastard, for the Hungriest Bastards.

Even

Alias

would

be

full

after

eating

one.

Eat
me!

We catch up with TNGB on the road!

Centurion, now that’s a sad mother fucker isn’t he? What’s the fucking point old man? Even this clueless fuck knows he’s lost. Moving the fuck on.

Yo, TK, did you see that amazing Warstein promo?

It was goddamn noir, as fuck, bro, shot in black and white. With a guy so fucking famous you think he’s at least swing for technocolor. Shouldn’t expect much from a guy who “only shows up cause their asked”.

Shit. I’ve seen more fire come out of a dead Bic. The dude is a lush, focused on getting his dick wet. Just like Peter was. Jesus, what a fucking shit Gilmour clone. Did you catch that bullshit about him thinking he’s going to win off of getting shithoused? Wait, hold on, no matter what, he wins, because even if he loses, he wins? I reckon that was the booze talking, because that’s about as coherent as a coloring book after a toddler got its hands on it. Maybe a Superman one. And bang down the door? Yikes. We just had to wait for you to want to seem relevant again, probably because you had a hissy with whatever company you were with, and you came slinking back, hat, not crown, since you were gracious enough to lose the King of the Ring tournament for the benefit of all and surprise of none, but hat in hand. Oh, yeah, you're talking to the guys who opened the door for OCW and the XWF to cross-promote. They're having a little tourney to see who faces us, but you got lost sticking your head up your own ass trying to blow yourself. To the point, Betsy, tsk tsk, you should have gotten an actual toddler instead of that schlub. He’s not a shell of his former self, that’s just himself! Christ almighty, he has done himself a bother, girl! Win-win my hairy white ass. This isn’t some deep metathinking thing going on, this is bloodsport in the fucking ring, and him getting chucked through a cage while three other people had his back isn’t winning. Him getting pinned isn’t victory by any fucking stretch. I guess we could do the math and talk about option three, where his balls drop and finishes puberty. We could talk about option four, where space men come from Alpha Centauri and show us all how basket weaving is done in the icy cold of space. We could talk about option five, where we all undergo a case of SMEF…

Is that contagious?

It's a sudden mass existence failure.

What the fuck is that?

It’s fun sci-fi, but nevermind. We could talk about options all the way to three-billion-seven-hundred-and-forty-three-million-three-hundred-and-sixty-nine-thousand-four-hundred-and-twenty.

Nice.

Thanks. There’s going to be only one result. It’s not a win for Shawn. It’s not a victory. It’s certainly not vindication. It’s him getting his ass whooped for all existence to see, and then if he wants to say the deck was stacked against him, and I agree, it is, he's on a shitty team, so I guess he could blame his cohorts and say he didn't have the back-up he needed, but we already knew Noah and Raven burned themselves out carrying his dead weight around from place to place. But if he wants to say it took an effort to take him out, well, Shawn, it's no sweat. We get it, you did all these things before everybody, like watch the wheel get invented, practice irrigation techniques, write a bitch session on papyrus, blah blah blah, you had your first match while they were building the lost catacombs in Egypt, and you walked uphill both ways through two feet of snow to get there. Hey, TK, how much you wanna bet we go from being muted to blocked on Twitter?

No Bet.

Well, no real loss, I can find plenty of young women who will harp about their crushes and act like divas, they’re a dime a dozen. You're like chicken wings, easy pickins, but should we offer for him to come and right whatever wrong happened, to prove he's actually legendary, he'll have an excuse. Make sure your parents sign your note for not dressing for gym class. Shit, he’ll still manage to be a bigger pussy than…

Bobby stops.

Who has a really large vagina?

Shawn Warstein. I mean, he’s always trying to talk about getting his dick wet. ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles isn't that guy. Warstein’s the kinda guy who finds these bitches online and fills their head full of fucking nonsence. Makes them believe he’s some great goddamn athlete because he travels around. Reality will kick him in the fucking GAPING PUSSY at War Games. I can goddamn well promise you that.

Yeah, but who’s bigger?

Warstein’s after we’re done with it!

Oh! Ya know, that just makes me think of Alias and Corey.

Ugh, blown out pussy does?

Yeah, I reckon. Anyhow, Alias says nobody is talking about the draft, then Corey says that the people who are, aren’t, what did he say, canon? Fucking christ, the fanbase of the XWF means nothing to these assholes, and Alias wonders why I call him a bullshit, paper champion when he dismisses the fans. Corey, well, he knew better than to let my name come out of his mouth, considering that he and Thad are two peas and the same pod; under my ownership, lock, stock, and barrel. Kinda cute if he thinks his big, strong, handsome manly-man of a sham of a champ is going to step up and keep him snug and safe. Alias isn’t some spoopy nonsense, he’s about as frightening as Halloween decorations in April; which is to say he’s more just sad than anything else. Oh, and it looks like Robert Main went full Halloween mode and dressed up like Eli James then referred to himself in the third person a whole metric fuckton to scare Caedus. Caedus still sounds like a guy who got kicked out of an AA meeting. Dolly and Charlie are running a fucking leftover Halloween decor carnival. For the love of fuck, this is War Games, not Halloween 2, and speaking of, if anybody is the masked maniac Michael Meyers, well, fuck, it’d be me boyos! Someone explain the pop culture reference I just made to North Korean War Criminal. Oh, and don’t act like I don’t forget you. I remember the war we had for the Federweight Championship, chingu...

Bobby looks at TK.

Which means ‘friend’ to you and me.

Ah.

TK nods as Bobby turns back to watch the road.

You’re absolutely right about one thing, Mr. War Criminal, and that is the most obvious, understated, but overly understood thing the whole XWF Universe knew going into War Games. Chris Chaos sucks at cutting promos and has a dumb sense of humor. Dolly and Charlie, well, you guys are doing great work together. Just like a pair of rats near a dumpster behind the local dive bar, you’re digging through all the trash and finding Caedus, which must stink. Woah, sorry, sorry, people actually like rats and would buy one. You guys are just two bags of garbage that didn’t fit in the bin, but at least you’re shaped like rats. Whoo-ee, and what a shape that is. Charlie looks like he wouldn’t understand what to do in a gym, and Dolly looks like she couldn’t use any of the equipment if she even tried. Guys, take it from me, start slow, and start small. Don’t go in there trying to lift heavy like Them No Good Bastards. We’ve been banging and clanging for a while, and pushing weight like Girl Scouts push those amazing, wonderful, and delicious cookies. Then we comes to the old man hisself…

Himself.

TK grins from ear to ear, having corrected someone for a change. He sips from his can of Bud Light. Bobby smirks.

That’s what I said.

Gimme a second with these two fucks before you move on Bobby. Charlie’s Carnies are all over the fucking place aren’t they. Never really know who to talk about. Fucking lost in the breeze, if only the could take all that hot air and make something of it. Then they’d be a threat, but no, they’d rather piss it all away just like Muddy did to his liver. Somebody better call a goddamn doctor and have them on stand by cause Charlie’s Carnies are in fucking trouble. If their money is banking on Robert Main. They are fucking shortsighted. Robert spent so much goddamn time avoiding talking about Caedus. To that being the only thing he could fucking talk about. That’s fucking weakness and BOB exploits weakness. Robert Main’s weakness is his goddamn friends. He’s a gullible goddamn idiot that bumbles around until his head gets caved in and he dips out. That is who the fuck Robert Main is. ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles got his ass if he makes it to the Main Event. Bet your fucking last xbux on it.

Speaking of Doctors… What's up, Doc? You know, I'm not going to be like all the other dimwits out there. You are still a King. Now, I don't get why you stopped acting like one just because everybody said you weren't because you lost one match to Alias, but that's your weird little prerogative. What I do remember, though, is one of the big time XWF fans, one of hundreds that me and TK run into weekly, asked me if TK was a better partner than Trax.

You never partnered with Demos.

No, bro, Trax, not Thrax.

Never heard of him.

I think he’s alright with that. Anyhow, one of the XWF loyalists asked about a match where I partnered with Trax and we beat you and an entitled rich boy from New York. I had to think for a minute, but I remembered that yes, you couldn't pull Donald Trump to a win, and by proxy, you're not bringing Thad out ahead of BOB!.

Bobby looks somewhat distressed.

Fuck it, TK, I am getting pissed, and now I can't stop thinking about Thin Mints. I gotta focus on the road and not get road rage.


[bwo]We segue into a new scene of a busy gym, some kind of class is being taught en masse to a bunch of women in sports bras and yoga pants. We fast cut to see a woman using some kind of plastic box of a boondoggle to step up and down on.

Life can come at you hard and fast.

We see a woman in a bathing suit at the top of a high dive. She takes a deep, focused breath as she prepares to jump into the water below as fancy as she can because, well, we commend that as a species to the point it’s an Olympic event. Falling in water and not drowning.

You can come harder and faster than life.

We see a woman standing in line at a grocery store. A man approaches her and says something. She spins and spits in his face.

Jesus, are you on your period or something?

Yes, and I’m furious!

She holds up an item from the conveyor belt that’s bringing the items she intends to buy to the soul-drained drone in a smock scanning stuff with lasers. Wanna work with lasers? Go into retail. Anyhow, she holds up a package of tampons, the brand just reads Furious. There’s a picture of Miss Fury on the package..

Furious, a tampon that's so absorbent that It can control even a Corey-sized mess!
[/bwo]


We catch up with the festivities at the grounds of War Games. A massive campsite is set up, almost a festival unto itself, adorned with banners with the BOB logo, thousands of BOB fans all in attendance to watch their team win War Games indecisive and historic fashion. Oswald flashes into the scene having teleported through a portal, and the fans in attendance go wild. Oswald looks around, raises his arms, and opens a bevy of portals above, raining dollar bills and assorted treats on the crowd, almost replicating a pinata’s results. The crowd chants.

*BIG!*MONEY!*BIG!*MONEY!*BIG!*MONEY!*BIG!*MONEY!*

As he does this, Bobby and TK, Them No Good Bastards, roll into the campsite in their signature stretch red Humvee limousine. The doors of the rear open and Elon Musk, Post Malone, Drew Carey, Keanu Reeves, Seth Rogan and Chris Rock all walk out, bedecked in their BOB t-shirts as the crowd cheers. The thunderous reaction amplifies as Bobby steps out of the driver’s seat and TK steps out of the shotgun seat. They both clack both pairs of their tag team championship belts and hold them up, and we see the Television Championship is actually set up as a hood ornament on the vehicle. The crowd chants in accordance.

*ASSHOLE!*DIRTBAG!*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*clap, clap, clap clap clap*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*clap, clap, clap clap clap*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*clap, clap, clap clap clap*

As this happens, a jet black helicopter touches down in the field with the BOB logo on the side. Big Puddin’, Diesel, and Chris Page all step out. Page raises both fists as the crowd goes absolutely wild.

*WE WANT CHRONIC!*WE WANT CHRONIC!*WE WANT CHRONIC!*WE WANT CHRONIC!*

Miss Fury steps out shortly after.

*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*

Miss Fury looks absolutely gobsmacked by the reaction. Bobby steps up and stands next to her.

Hello, everybody! Whoa!

Bobby raises Fury’s hand.

Miss Fury, would you please? The heart of BOB.

Miss Fury waves.

Thank you. They love you. They love you here.

Oswald, Bobby, TK, and Miss Fury all meet up. Oswald sticks his hand out, Bobby places his flat on top of Oswald’s. TK places his atop Bobby’s. Fury finishes the stack by placing a black leather gloved hand on top of TK’s.

They wanna play fucking rough? Well then. Goddamn it, Let’s play rough!

The crowd is going bananas for all of this. A group of stunning young women, completely nude, approach the group. Big Puddin’ licks his chops. Chris Rock and Post Malone look taken aback. Bobby and TK just kind of stare as Oswald smirks in approval. Miss Fury looks somewhat confused.

Uh, hi?

One of the girls steps forward.

“We saw it all on Twitter.”

Saw what?

Another girl, bubbly in nature and smiling, speaks up.

“We’re here to fuck BOB.”

Yo!

TK raises a finger to the sky and walks over to the group of girls. Bobby shakes his head and glances at Ozzy, gesturing towards the girls.

I’m a fighter, not a lover.

”I mean… I'm married”

They want a piece of you, big man.

Oswald bashfully walks over and is immediately grabbed by three of the girls.

”Sorry ladies, I'm married. Unless you don’t mind waiting for my wife to join.”

Don’t worry bitches, I got this.

TK meanders off with the smoking hot girls. Miss Fury looks at Bobby.

How did this happen?

Well, we’re BOB, the biggest fucking thing in wrestling. You think Alias has this kind of fanbase? Doc? We appeal to the wild crowd who wants the ruckus, not the mopey and dopey!

But, what do we do with all these people?

A huge box truck pulls up, and behind the wheel is Barney Green.

You know that drug cartel we have now? I’d say we’ve got business to attend to.

Miss Fury looks on the verge of tears of joy.

Are you saying we use these people to mule our dope into the country?

No, I’m saying let’s have a little fun.

How isn’t my idea fun?

Bobby smirks, thinking that Fury’s evil naivety was almost cute. He then turns his attention to the group of protesters from the Westboro Baptist Church who are seen arriving, with malice and hate in their hearts for the happenings at the BOB area of War Games. Signs reading some of the most vulgar and hateful slogans ever imagined, least of all associated with a church, are seen, and the fun-loving BOBsters who have congregated to party at War Games look disgusted. A group of Q-Anon supporters also seem to be arriving, holding upside-down American flags and bedecked in Trump memorabilia. Bobby cracks his knuckles.

Oh, I ordered out. Call it a little light training.

Bobby pulls out his phone and fuddles around with it, then shows Miss Fury the screen. It seems to be a post from Parlor, where an account going by the name R. J. Booze has instilled the need for a presence here today. He hands it to Miss Fury as Bobby grits his teeth, grinning wide. He charges at the congregation of Q-Anons with a bloodthirsty roar as the crowd goes absolutely wild. Barney hops out of the box truck.

Is he beating up Q-Anons?

Miss Fury nods.

He’s a national treasure. Well, your drugs are here, go sell them.

Miss Fury looks at Barney.

What are you going to do?

A few more naked women approach Barney. He looks at Fury and gives her a thumbs up, then Barney walks off with the girls. Fury is standing by herself when all of a sudden THE NOID appears again.

[bwo][/bwo]


We're not doing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bit what are you doing Jimmy?

Jimmy comes off his pogo stick and tosses it to the side.

I'm here to make things clear that THE NOID knows what these Teams are lacking.

Jimmy places photographs of the faces of the team captains on the ground in front of him. He then pulls out a new and improved pogo stick.


[bwo][/bwo]


First up, Team Betsy, AKA Reggie's Angels.

Jimmy bounces the pogo stick off the face of Betsy.

No real team identity and it only got worse as Shawn entered. Taking over the show. Pathetic.

The camera swings back over to the picture of Betsy that now has "KIA" stamped onto it.

Team Duke, AKA Discontinuum.

Jimmy again bounces but this time on the picture of Duke.

Cowards.

The camera shows Duke with the same "KIA" on it.

Team Dick, AKA ACocKalypse Now.

Jimmy bounces onto the picture of Powers.

No heart.

"KIA" is stamped onto Dick's forehead.

Team Corey, AKA F.U.C.K.T.H.A.D.

This time Jimmy bounces on his Ware Games crusher pogo stick with gusto.

Handcuffed themselves at the outset. Corey has a problem with the team environment setting. This time he at least tried to course-correct but in the end, it won't be enough. Sorry, bud.

The "KIA" on Corey's picture covers his mouth.

Team Charlie, AKA Charlie's Carnies.

Jimmy does a flip landing on Charlie's picture and lands on it twice

Work as well together as motor oil and water. Sure, it looks cool at first, but really it's just a mess that kitty litter has to sop up, then shoveled, and thrown away.

"KIA" doesn't appear on Charlie's picture but instead the eyes are ripped out.

The Noid is winning War Games because if one BOB wins, we all win.

THE END MOTHERFUCKER!