Bobby Bourbon faces XWF newcomer Matthew Knox at Bad Medicine in the special opening match taking place 2 whole days before the event during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Fortunately for Matt, Bobby never once uses the "school of hard Knox" pun in this promo.

TARGET ACQUIRED

Hey Knox. I think I should lead off with two simple words. I'm not prideful, though I am damn proud of every XWF fan that wakes up, busts their asses, and makes an impact on their world. Maybe they got mouths to feed, working themselves to exhaustion for the benefit of their kids, or parents, maybe both. Maybe they're advancing themselves however they can wherever they can. I have nothing but respect for those who show hustle, desire, and chase what they want. Do you sit among the people, Matt? Nah. Not Thursday. Either way, what I need to say, before anything else, is I'm sorry.

Bobby blinks slowly. The cool, easy demeanor of a gunslinger at high noon, resonates in stark contrast to the fury behind his eyes.

Not to you. You made this decision, you did. You went and begged for a fight at Bad Medicine, got yourself into two matches, and that first match is against me. I get to bust your XWF cherry after you've gone and done yourself a bother by fucking yourself. I don't know what bingo halls, flea markets, or promotions you wrestled in, I'm sure you'll give me a resume or some such like it fucking matters, but you best damn well recognize the XWF Universe is waking up on Thanksgiving, tuning in to NBC, the first match the XWF has ever put on broadcast television, to watch me beat some dude. Now, I'm not so arrogant to think you’re just some dude, regardless of the fact this is the most high profile match of, shit, either of our careers, on display with cultural icons like Snoopy, Lady Gaga, and even fucking Santa. You're still around and kicking at fourty, you know something. I am pleased and honored to face you in what will be the most viewed match in history, television-wise, and while you may have done this or that there or anywhere else, I'ma beat your ass on behalf of the entire Xtreme Wrestling Federation.

Bobby takes a deep breath in through his nose. He exhales with a snort, like a bull.

Any block you've been around I have shaken the foundations of, Matt. Any low you've hit and any high you have felt were done on a bell curve as far as I'm concerned because you are just now coming around to face off against the Big Bad Big Bad of Big Bads, the best damned big man in this business, pound for pound I pound the sound, beat for beat I bring the beat to the beat of my own drum, I drum up trouble on the double as the drums sound for war. Do you get a vibe for what you're headed for? Dust you off like it's my mid-morning chores, you act like you’re a GOAT, I'm a fucking Tyrannosaur, will chew you up, spit you out, and be hungry for more. Gore? On Thanksgiving I will make you bleed, when people ask what happened to you tell 'em Bobby done the deed, they all saw it, live on a national network feed, this is my yard, I'm a Rottweiler, one dangerous breed. Spill your blood like I'm doing a paint-by-number and watch it cake and dry into a darker umber. The only way you beat me is in a dream, better wake up from that slumber, I'ma make it look good when I win, cool as a cucumber. Ask yourself, you want me neat or do you take your Bourbon on the rocks? You ain't seen a monster like me since the Cloverfield Paradox! I will rock you so hard Argentina will feel the aftershocks, and when people dig into dinner after our match and ask "Who did Bobby beat the shit out of?" they'll guess it was some dude named Knox.

Bobby purses his lips in such a way his mustache hides his mouth.

Where was I though? Right, apologies. I'm sorry, Knox. I'm sorry for your expectant wife who has to watch on Thanksgiving morning as her hubby gets the shit kicked out of him along the streets of New York on a holiday, answering phone call after text after phone call from her family asking if you're okay. She's a wife, not a nurse or a secretary after all, to put her through that is not something I'm immediately proud of. Also, what is it with the sterile way y'all talk to each other? I've heard more intimate dialogue in a grocery store flyer than the shit you two exchange. I'm sorry for your extranged daughter, who's going to watch her daddy get hit harder than he's ever been, who's gonna watch as her daddy's knuckles bleed from hitting the some-kinda-concrete creature I be. I'm sorry she’s going to see the man who held her as a baby get tossed around like a ragdoll what weighs nothing and thrown away like one of her dirty Pampers from however long ago. I'm sorry for your unborn kid. One day, Matt, one day you're going to sit down with the lad and show him your first match in the XWF, as a feature of the XWF for all the country, all the world, all the universe to see. You're going to show him how through all your accomplishments in your career, when it came down to it, you weren't enough of a man to square up with the Sultan of Smacktalk, and that ole' Bobby Bourbon truly does wreck like he was designed, built, and born to do! You'll explain to the kid that even though you were a loser, you still had a legacy, and damn, Matt, what kind of lesson is that to teach to your kid? I'm sorry if you don't get any of that, but, meh, you didn't have to step into my turf.

Bobby rolls his eyes. He takes a step forwards as the camera moves to his side to keep pace. We see the Hirschorn Museum, still undergoing renovations near the National Mall.

Now, about that legacy of yours, Matt. I get it. You've been a champion in whatever dog-and-pony-show promotions, but hey, it ain't like you were facing me for whatever piece of tinfoil was hot-glued to cardboard at the time. You've seen your fair share of blood spilled at the hands of those who couldn't sniff my shit after I blew up a port-o-john. You've had families, lovers, and that one that left you more shredded and torn than the rest, that ole' white pony what used to go swimming in them veins after a quick stick leaving you more fulfilled than anyone. Shit, Matt, I hear tell heroin packs a helluva punch, and good on you for leaving it behind you, even if you're still full of shit after the constipation passed on. Thing is, if you thought that was a way to get fucked up, this here Bourbon is going to leave your ass on the floor knocked off your dick. You've had all these life experiences Matt, and that’s just dandy. Pray tell, how many other ways are you a has-been? Hah, I'm only kidding. As far as I can tell you're just another never-was.

Bobby slows down as he comes to the perimeter of a large group of people. Flags are flying throughout. Flags that read "Fuck Biden" and "Trump 2024". Confederate Flags. Kekistan Flags. A man with a bullhorn is in front of the two-hundred or so people congregated in support of Q-Anon horsefuckery. Bobby gives pause as he observes. The man with the bullhorn puts it to his lips.

We demand freedom for Jacob Chansley! The prosecution of Steve Bannon is a farce, and the rightful President of the United States had the election stolen from him!

Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, and Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, approach and stand beside Bobby.

These dudes are nuts.

Straight up pralines.

Bobby’s brow furrows.

Who eats just pralines anymore? Among all the advances we've made as a society…

Bobby gestures toward the crowd.

...these nitwits notwithstanding, candy has gotten way more advanced and some stuff just became passe. Remind me to try making some pralines back at the dojo later.

Are they keto?

I don't even know what a praline is.

It's a confection made with nuts.

I thought they were nuts.

Nah.

Cyberjaw holds up his phone, having done a Google of 'pralines'.

I'll make disgusting keto friendly pralines then. Ugh. Keto sweets are terrible.

Why even make them?

Because I can.

The three men share a silence, nodding in agreement. The man with the bullhorn rattles off again.

We will confront the cabal of pedophiles, and when John F. Kennedy Jr. arrives, Q plus will be back to lead the sting!

Woah, what?

Who the fuck is Q plus?

They mean Trump.

Okay, and how the fuck is John F. Kennedy Jr. supposed to show up? He's dead and has been for decades!

I know, I know.

Bobby grins. Cyberjaw holds up a bucket of popcorn.

Where did you get that?

The movies.

What did you see?

Huh?

The Q-Anon rally bullhorn echoes.

And then we will go to Harris Teeter and expose how they're trying to mind control the gorgonzola cheese using 5G. Waffles are making the chipmunks purple, and the new rules in the NFL every year make forklifts annoyed!

Cyberjaw chomps into some popcorn.

Bro, what movie did you see?

I didn't.

Wait, you just went to the movie theater to buy a bucket of popcorn?

Yeah.

That's kinda goofy. I mean, you could've got some microwave popcorn.

Or like a bag of popcorn from a store.

Pretty sure there are vendors around here, and those are all better quality options than bulk movie theater corn.

And that had to be like ten bucks.

It was twelve.

The bullhorn resounds again.

The dinosaurs were all killed when they started running with scissors! Geometry is teaching our kazoo bands that parachute pants have paper towels for elbows! Neon signs in Georgia, Minnesota, and South Dakota know the truth about hamburger and hot dog folds of paper! Goths run IHOP!

Damn, bro, if it wasn’t for this dingleberry, you buying a twelve dollar bucket of crummy popcorn would be the craziest nonsense I've heard all day.

I expected better out of you. I think all things considered, you buying a twelve dollar bucket of popcorn is crazier than a Q-Anon follower or subscriber sounding like a Q-Anon.

Okay.

Cyberjaw nibbles on some popcorn.

Can I have some.

Sure.

Diamondback reaches into the bucket and retrieves a handful. Bobby nods in approval.

He just criticized you, but you shared anyhow. Good man.

I'm not petty.

Diamondback's eyes go wide as he starts to breathe heavily.

I also topped it with Carolina Reaper dust.

Diamondback reaches back into the bucket.

May I?

Sure.

Bobby grabs a mitt full of popped corn topped with the dehydrated dust of the world's hottest pepper. He shoves it into his mouth. The bullhorn takes over again.

Seventeen years ago, I went into a pond. In that pond there were frogs, and snakes, and fish. Around that pond were bugs, and plants. This is how I discovered that Abraham Lincoln was a bag of rutabagas living on a stump that's hidden under the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island. Two elephants were sitting in a bird bath, one looked at the other and asked if they served ice cream to the pope, the other looked back and said no soap, Radio!

I wonder what drugs he's on.

They sound fun.

That's some kickass corn bro.

I know.

It's amazing to me.

Me too.

I don't mean the popcorn. I mean, a bunch of people are sitting around and listening to this guy, hanging on his every word.

Like we are?

Kinda, only we're here because it's a shitshow, not because we're actually going to take any of this shit seriously.

Oh. So it's more like we're watching a Chris Chaos promo?

Exactly, only with less conspiracy theory.

Fair. So, are we here for entertainment then?

The bullhorn dominates the soundscape again.

And that's why we need to storm the Capitol and finish what was started last January!

Bobby cracks his neck.

Nope. Security. Let's roll.