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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
The Old Game
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Prof. Bobby Bourbon Offline
Mad Scientist



XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

(booed by casual fans; opportunistic; often plays dirty while setting the trends)


#1
03-11-2022, 07:26 PM

On request of the American people, Bobby Bourbon is going to Ukraine on a humanitarian mission.

Theo is flying something.

THE OLD GAME

We cut to Bobby and Theo both wearing old timey flying helmets. The wind flies past them as Theo's scarf whaps Bobby in the face. Bobby tugs it down.

This is stupid.

No, it's alright.

This thing is a one way trip, how are we supposed to launch it once we land it?

The shot zooms out. Both men appear to be in a giant paper airplane. Theo dutifully flies the delicate craft, dead silent and alerting no radar in the night.

It's our tent after we land.

Brilliant.

Theo looks less than pleased, having been roped into a camping trip.

Look, Theo, this isn't some smash and grab operation here. This is proper psy-ops, do you understand? We're not here to topple a mountain just see greener pastures.

Is that what your package is? Our weapons?

Bobby chortles.

Sure.

What do you mean, 'sure'? That's very vague.

Just land us. It's all covered.

Theo takes the giant paper airplane in on an approach. It hits the ground pretty gently. Both men step off of the giant paper airplane. Bobby tilts it over, it's now a tent.

Well, what now?

I gotta get set up.


Bobby reaches into the crate, pulling out a tiny smoker, a pair of rifles, a bottle of whiskey, and several spices.

Okay. I'm set up.

That was fast. Now what?

We hunt boar.

Are there any, uh, out here?

Bobby points past Theo, who turns to see a massive pig farm.

Oh. That's tacky.

Bobby and Theo each grab a rifle. Both men hop a fence, and they each pull out a knife. In tandem, they slaughter two pigs silently. They then moves the pigs as quietly as possible through the grounds and to the fence, hoisting each over.

Okay, well, we killed pigs. Did we save the day?

Pfft.

Bobby hops the fence and begins dressing each pig. Theo seems aghast by the sight.

Do you like doing that?

Like it or not, meat doesn't grow on bushes.

Having finished, Bobby cuts off a shoulder cut.

Let's barbecue.

Bobby sits and starts to season the cut of shoulder. Theo approaches.

You're seriously going to smoke that meat, here and now?

What do you suggest.

Well, how about anything but that? That farmer is going to get pissed about those pigs we killed.

The farmer is in on it. He was paid for 4. You might have to get the other two.

What?

Oh, look out!

A massive cargo plane flies overhead. It drops something with a parachute, which heads downward.

That's not good.

Nah, that's the equipment.

Why did we have to use the dumb paper airplane if that loud plane was flying in anyway?

One, because spycraft, we’re on some real James Bond shit. Two, because if the equipment got tracked and shot, it wasn't us.

Theo ponders this. Bobby gestures to the craft that brought them in.

Plus, hey, tent.


How does the government afford this Bobby?

Having pieced something together, Theo looks sternly at Bobby as he asks. Bobby smirks.

They don't.

You son of a bitch.

What? Theo, think about it. You've been like Tony Stark the entire time. Every goofy spy thing I did, you and the XWF footed the bill. Don't ask how I can buy an aircraft carrier, which I had for a time, those connections aren't there anymore. Maybe. But how can I afford one? The endless coffers of the XWF.

Christ. How?

It was a proviso written into my contract. Someone should have read it before it got signed.

We're restructuring your deal after this.

Bobby gets the tiny smoker set up, places the pork shoulder within, then looks at Theo.

Look, how about this. I will make you a kickass super suit. Like Iron Man.

Theo looks dead back at Bobby.

That is the most insane thing I have ever…

I'm serious.

That bothers me. You have a deal.

Awesome.

So, what's the plan?

Simple. I'ma fuck up Russian supply lines.

How?

Ever see Russian food? As soon as them boys get a whiff of proper American barbecue, their lives will change. They'll get a hankering for something they don't get from home.

And then you poison it?

Bobby shrugs.

Eh, I'm not sure with what, yet.

That's horrible.

That's how you get shit done. LSD and capsaicin to Russian high command sounds spiffy.

That'll make them all, I dunno, shit might get weird quick then.

Exactly. Then we introduce LSD to those dosed at cost. It makes its way back to Moscow. Russian Counterculture seeds planted? I dunno, but worth a crack.

Theo rubs his chin.

You have a complete lack of oversight.

Indeed.

Bobby opens the equipment crate. Inside is a much larger smoker and several bags of wood chips. Bobby rubs his hands together and picks up a bag of wood chips. He pours them into the tiny smoker, then sets the bag down. He knees beside the tiny smoker.

Would you hand me the whiskey please?

Theo grabs the bottle and hands it to Bobby. Bobby opens it and pours some of the whiskey into a small container within the smoker. He then shuts it and turns it on.

Is that battery operated?

Yep. Cutting edge equipment. The big one is too.


Bobby plods back to the wracked pork and cuts off both rib sections and the other shoulder from the one he already carved from. He brings them back to larger smoker as Theo shrugs and starts to make an actual fire.

It won't be light out for another 9 hours.

I'm hoping so, this stuff will take about that long.

Huh. So your whole plan is to sneak into Ukraine bypassing all known security when you could have just flown into Europe commercially and driven through the border and done this publicly as a cross promotion for the XWF?

And make barbecue. So I'm going to do all this, keep an eye out for the next cargo plane, it'll have the roving base food truck.

God damnit.

As Theo says this, another cargo plane swoops down, unloading a food truck with a parachute. It floats gently down next to Bobby and Theo.

You know, I didn't know this was going to take so long, I have important things to deal with.

I'm sure you do. Anyhow, I'm going to sleep.

So we drop into a war zone, kill pigs, take a nap.

Ideally.

What's stopping us?

Shouting comes from beyond a treeline. Bobby and Theo look towards it intently.

Heck, they must be looking into both of the cargo planes dropping stuff around here.

I would see that as a possibility.

Dang it. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this.

Bobby reaches into a sachel. A group of armed men approach Bobby and Theo, guns drawn, shouting in Russian.

святое дерьмо, это Бобби Бурбон!

He says "holy crap, it's you!"

он готовит американское барбекю

They seem to know you're making barbecue.

звоните всем давайте сделаем рекламу пива

He, uh, what?



Suddenly, from the food truck, we hear a sick guitar riff as ZZ Top walk out of it, along with attractive young people in bathing suits. The soldiers produce a few cases of Bud Light.

Robbie, what is going on here?

Bobby, now dressed head to toe in a blue Bud Light track suit out of nowhere, shrugs.

I don't know, Theo, but if you want the cold, refreshing taste of a Bud Light you must be 21 or over.

Robbie, this doesn't make sense!

Welcome to Psy-Ops son!

Theo is hoisted onto the shoulders of a strapping young lad and trots off to listen to ZZ Top and have a cool, refreshing Bud Light. Bobby turns to the camera.

To each their own, I reckon. People do as they wish, but more often then not, it's what's most pleasing to them at the time. That means, without a shadow of a doubt, that Calvary is most pleased by doing jack squat. I know, touching on that particular dead horse is over with for now.

Bobby purses his lips.

I mean, we all saw when he had something to say about me agreeing to do a mission at the behest of the President of the United States, getting it all warped and twisted in the process. It's a shame, I went ahead and drove you a dialogue, and not only did you have to bite onto my words going into this, but then you choke on them in the process.

Bobby rolls his eyes up and grabs at his neck, pantomiming a choke.

I have no problem taking lead, same as I'll do so in the ring. See, you think I go and do stuff for the President himself, no, see, I just keep it possible for the American people to select whatever nitwit they want to live in the White House. I wasn't called back into action because of a master, or one man commanding me to do so. I didn't come groveling and hoping for an opportunity, I can more than make them. Are things perfect? Nowhere. I can still get up and make a huge change.

Bobby pounds his hand into his fist.

Calvary sucks harder than his own mother in a midwest truck stop, and she's doing it for hot water. His last lame duck promo more'n proved it, he’s bringing nothing to the table but appetite and some measly jabs thrown at the United States. Bruh, go on the internet, you will find goofy pricks around the globe with an opinion on the US, it's dime-a-dozen, and well it should be. Having those opinions, those thoughts and feelings, are who you are as a person, you are entitled to them as basic human rights. Or, at least, you would be, except you're not really human, are you? Eh, what the shit, I'll still grant you that as whatever dopey alien you are. Big whoop. I've been to space. Getting back to Earth for matches was a pain. Hey, why weren't you at that big moon show we did?

Bobby raises a pointer finger. Theo rides by on a 7 foot tall clown lady in a bikini while two vikings, a guy in a taco costume, and a lynx circle them.

Calvary is a limp, half-dicked attempt at anything but failure. Heh, I'm not going to get upset that you called it, Calvary. I'm not going to rant and rave, knowing that when I go down to the ring, when I square up, knuckle up, and in those few seconds where I wait for a bell to tell me, hey, Bobby, go beat their ass, in that time I remember the reason I'm doing it or I've ever done it, the People, Kal. All of them. I'm not America's Motherfucker. I'm not a Universal Motherfucker. Multiversal, maybe, but nope. I am, without a shadow of a doubt, and hear this well, I am the People's Motherfucker. On that note, if you want to lock someone in America, maybe we don't do that in Ontario.

Bobby shrugs swiftly, faster than Shawn Warstein.

Just a thought. Back on track, though. Calvary is uncaged like most more pretentious and overpriced chicken. Who gives a fuck if cages don't hold you back, or how you got no strings to hold you down. Paraphrasing Pinocchio? You're not the Calvary, you're the Poultry. I'm here dishing it out fresh hot and tasty, you're bragging about being able to wipe your own ass without permission like it's something most of us have done since childhood. Like, ooh ah, congratulations on the free will development and sudden sense of self, Calvary, you sound like a rooster who found a hole in a fence. Crowing up nothing going nowhere but to more dangerous predators. See, whoever was your master before, well, they sure as fuck weren't me.

Bobby shakes his head.

Daddy Biden? That's, uh, how often do you call him that. Ugh. Presidents are creepy pervs on the regular, it seems.

Bobby rolls his eyes.

Now I get it, you're going to pat yourself on the back for all the ways you expressed yourself when it comes to me. Give yourself that self assurance, Kal. Tell yourself that as long as you're halfways confident, you can do what I do better than me. The drizzling shits of that, though, is you're just lying to yourself, deluded and blinded to the fact that what I do is whatever I want to do. I don't keep pace, provide answers when questioned by anyone, authority or not, or fall back into comforts and rest on laurels. I forge my own path at a breakneck speed, you on the other hand, are learned from servitude, complete and absolute, to the point you've done yourself a bother and lost track of my shoes just trying to follow in my footsteps. I don't need to tell folk I've cast any shackles down, nor do I need fear any lock you think you have for me. I proved I was a real boy to the world a time or two, you’re still singing about your strings and how they don't hold you down. How many times can you tell the world you'll show them, Kal? How many times can you promise and never deliver, just go back to Anarchy and Madness where you belong. That is not an insult to Anarchy or Madness, they need better hot dog vendors, because the XWF keeps its own hot dog catering staff because I got it into my contract and, whoo boy Kal, I think the next step in your career is peddling dogs and beer. You'd be perfect, you can fly from the mezzanine to the floor to serve ice cold Bud Light and hot dogs. I mean, in the ring you don't even have the luster of chicken shit contrasting in the hay and dirt. As Sausage King of the XWF, like Abe Froman before me, I will put you in at nothing less than chief vending specialist of the XWF. Whenever soda has to be restocked in vending machines, which we do, I set up distro deals at every arena we work, make huge profits emptying those machines and refilling them with bags of snack. Why drive a truck when we have you to hoist the big bins and make a buck? At Savage, you're coming into my ring and getting your ass kicked out of my damn ring, you can stay out of my ring. You will sell hot dogs and beer.

Theo runs up, hysterical. He's promptly grabbed by a Pterodactyl and we see the special edition Jurassic World: Full Cast Reunion Bud Light in the beast's beak. It winks and flies off with Theo. Things are getting wild in Ukraine.

So, what I'm going to need from you, Kal, is your resume and availability. Keep your goofy thoughts to yourself. You may have left a weak master, I will dominate you because I am strong. I have the battle savvy of two lifetimes and enough brute power to make it still work. When I hit you, Kal, and I will hit you. I will land so many fists and blows on you you'd think I was a PornHub algorithm. When I hit you, Kal, it will hurt. I have done bashed the brains of the best in this business for too damn long to know I bring the boom and doom. You, well, wear blue pajamas and mope. You moped about me to me, Kal, I don't take such an offense lightly and as such the ass kicking coming your way just got a couple notches turned up. Making me listen to your bitchy mope opera. Now, specifically you, Kal, can fuck right off until Saturday, where I whoop thine hiney en route to becoming Sausage King of the XWF.


~~~~~

We see Theo, home from his trip to Eastern Europe, looking a little worse for the wear. One eyebrow seems to be burnt off. He looks up and down at a large crate in his driveway.

Well, you actually delivered.

The crate only has one word stamped on it in big bold letters. BourbCo. You see the crate had more words on it, much less bold though so that's probably why. This Side Up. There's a little arrow pointing up. Regal superhero music starts to play, like from the Marvel movies. Theo holds up a crowbar and whacks the crate. It opens, just like that.

God damnit.

Theo climbs unto the crate. A moment later he walks out.

[Image: polish-sausage-111212.jpg]

You had to make it look like this. Systems check.

The suit speaks back to Theo in the voice of Charles Nelson Reilly.

Hello Theo, are you ready to zoom around and shoot lasers?

The suit lifts off as Theo zooms around shooting lasers.

[Image: DtUCPfZ.png]
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[-] The following 8 users Like Prof. Bobby Bourbon's post:
"Loverboy" Vinnie Lane (03-12-2022), ALIAS (03-11-2022), Marf (03-11-2022), Mark Flynn (03-11-2022), Raion Kido (03-12-2022), Theo Pryce (03-12-2022), Thunder Knuckles™ (03-11-2022), Vita Frickin Valenteen (03-12-2022)




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