Bobby Bourbon prepares to take the Cannabis Cup by storm.

Welcome to the XWF proper, time for you newbs to get gud.

BLINDED



Bobby is in his office at the dojo. He's wearing a tomato colored polo shirt with G.H.P.B. stitched on it and a pair of jeans. Across from his desk, crammed onto a couch together, are Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Axe Mannix, axe man on Xanax, and President Joe Biden, vice PooBob. Bobby looks across the table at his assembled Bourbon Men.

Welp, I’m pissed. I had no idea this shit was happening at the Velvet Rabbit. Bullshit. The Bastard’s Den is the premier adult night club in all of wrestling, and we also have the world’s largest hot dog buffet. So, what the fuck all does the Velvet Rabbit have to eat?

The Bourbon Men look at each other.

Well, Bobby, I feel it’s time we healed and we ate a cheeseburger at the Velvet Rabbit.

I think I’ll have some chicken tenders.

What a bunch of rubes. You wan’t neither, because whatever you order will be covered with enough jizz that while you’re eating everybody’s cum you’re also eating nobody’s since it’s completely anonymous. What a fucking filthy shithole of a shithole of a rat’s nest. Hoo-boy, and I’m supposed to be excited that Page couldn’t even get us settled into the fucking Garden? We fly all the way to New York, and I’m not rocking MetLife Stadium, CitiField, or Yankee Stadium, no I’m in a fucking place that doesn’t even have the class of a common fucking crackhouse. Pretty sure some of you fucktards out there know what I mean, since looking at the field some at least two of you had moms that sucked dick for blow, two of you had moms that swallowed for heroin, and three of you swallowed daddy to avoid the spanking. Weak. Soft. Submissive.

What do you mean, ‘all the way to New York’?

It’s like an hour long flight. Hell, take a train, it’s more cultured.

Bobby’s brow furrows.

How the fuck is a train more cultured?

Because, diner cars, and sleeper cars…

You watch too many old movies

Bobby rubs his temples.

Now, I know I could waste my fucking breath on the lot of you, some I know, some I don’t, most all of you in the same boat. Not Brother Knuckles. No, TK is a fellow fucking Bastard. We are the herald and prophet of the Bastard, bringing unto the whole fucking industry destruction and condemnation on a scale never fucking seen before. Nah, see, I know TK is damn pissed we gotta set foot in that fucking swamp of a shitshow you call the Velvet Rabbit, but hey, some of you guys gotta get laid somehow and that’s just the place you think it happens instead of organically. Some of you never run into a fan willing to give you some top piece, and it shows. I get top piece weekly, motherfuckers, I don’t go out to someplace special to get top piece though. I’m knee deep in top piece. Got top piece for days.

We don’t need to know this.

The point is you do though. I outclass the entire venue we’re going to, and I’m supposed to waste my fucking time pointing out each little fart that otherwise entered this tournament? Fine. You’ll be a fucking sandwich menu. Kimberly Pain is a fucking grilled cheese. The lot of you are fucking grilled cheese sandwiches in the first bracket. Corey? Tell them how I left you toasted, golden brown, all gooey inside. Graves got the griddle and served up hot. Dickie Watson can ask Shawn Warstein about what happened when he set foot in my ring and I left him flat on the mat and out in three. All of you, the lot of you, are fucking food, lambs and pigs coming to become mutton and pork, and Bobby Bourbon is this here grillmaster serving up all the chops, but until any of you have to fucking deal with me, and fail, you’re just a bunch of grilled cheese sandwiches.

RoboBob, the robot from Rocky IV with a framed photo of Bobby attached to its face, opens the door to Bobby’s office and enters with an entire pot of coffee. Bobby’s eyes widen as he spots his beverage. He lifts the lid and guzzles half the pot. He then throws the glass carafe on the floor, shattering it and sending coffee everywhere. Axe Mannix yelps in surprise.

Why did you do that?

He did it twice last week.

I do what I want! So, I’m fighting some fuck called Apathy. Nobody cares. Ironic, but meh. Look, your new name, and I want everybody to listen as hard as they can at this, you’re the Appetizer. You’re the first morsel on the fucking menu so far as I am concerned, you’re the first one getting finished and getting people’s appetites going, because the greatest fucking athlete in wrestling history is a fucking sight to behold, and when I get to going and people behold me, they know they’re seeing the greatest human being alive. They hate me on the streets, love me between the sheets, and just won’t give a fuck who you are, Apathy, besides the body getting slung around so hard you will go XBox 360 physics and just look broken. Mostly because you’ll be broken. Have you ever seen a broken heap of a human being? I’m talking about a body twisted and contorted, maybe like after getting run over by a truck, or having a horrible skiing accident, some whoopsie-daisy nobody foresaw. Whoopsy-daisy, Apathy drew me first and got crumpled up. Then I just move ever onward and upward, gobbling up whatever disgusting, third rate talent gets slopped in front of me next. Betsy? Sheesh, does she really want a piece of this? Nope. Sebastian Everett Bryce? This guy couldn’t clean a fucking toilet I pooped in because he’d be enamored with the scent. Jason Cashe is cool. You’re cool, Jason.

Bobby’s arms are waving around frantically as he speaks, the coffee taking full effect, plus who knows how much he drank before they started recording.

Bro, what kind of Cannabis is in the cup?

I don’t know, I don’t care. I don’t smoke electric lettuce. Now, Apathy, I’m not a fool, I don’t underestimate whatever you might bring to the table. Hold on. Lemme google this really quick.

Bobby pulls his phone out of his pocket and boops away at the screen. His head cocks slightly as he views Apathy.

Oh.

Bobby blushes as he looks up from his phone.

Damn.

Bobby looks smitten. The rest of the Bourbon Men look into the Apathy that has taken Bobby on each of their phones.

Look, I had no idea, I’m just going to be professional, slap on the ole’ Majistral Cradle, wrap it up, badda bing, badda boom.

You mean for Apathy?

Nice rack!

She does that move?

Bobby’s eyes are widened as he looks as innocent and helpless as can be.

Not what they mean, gee whiz, she’s like a model

Right, but not all anorexic. She gives zero fucks, like me!

You…

Cyberjaw swiftly shakes his head.

You don’t know that at all, get your head back in the game, bro!

Yeah, you never got all goofy eyed when you saw an opponent before.

I never saw her before!

Happy Birthday, Paulie.

RoboBob does a little shuffle as Casio Keyboard quality beep-boops play.

Bobby, you should be nice to her!

What?

A little devil appears on Bobby’s shoulder. It’s Thunder Knuckles in a cheap devil costume. He pokes Bobby in the face with a plastic pitchfork.


On the other shoulder, a bright light shines onto the collar of Bobby’s shirt. Another devil appears in a poof of smoke instead, though. It’s Charlie Nickles in a cheap devil costume.

Jesus, Bobby, go all in and just bang her!

Bobby looks shocked that his Bastard bretheren would say such a thing.

Charlie, go take a lap or peel some potatoes, whatever the pledges are supposed to be doing.

Pledges?

TK claps his hand and tiny little Charlie Nickles jumps off of Bobby’s shoulder, landing on the floor of his office in a superhero pose. He then starts jogging around Bobby’s desk.


No I haven’t. And, uh, damn. I really regret the whole appetizer line now, that seems really crass.


Charlie hollers from below.

I totally agree.

Take another lap.

I’m not sure but I’ve been told…

The tiny Charlie sings as he runs along.

Look, Bro, I’ll deal with Apathy later. You just hold up your end of the bargain for what we’re really going in there for.

TK puts up his hand, and Bobby returns the gesture, doing a massive, disparity in size but still perfect no-look fistbump. TK disappears in a puff of smoke.

I should wear a kilt to the Cannabis Cup.

Easier access! Nice, I like it!

Hey, go get ready for your part of shit too.

Understood.

Like a machine, bent on destruction, Charlie turns, emotionless and cold. It seems something has gotten into him, and he disappears.

Why do you need a kilt for the Cannabis Cup?

Well, it’s real simple, it’s so the owner of the Velvet Rabbit can suck my left nut, Denzel Porter can suck my right, and this…

Bobby produces a spoon.

Is so Chris Page can eat my ass.

Yeah, a kilt would be optimal for that.

Bobby shakes his head.

So, flat the fuck out, why in the hell would I, one of the greatest names in his business, want to do business with any one of you? Well, with Page, heh, we have a plan. See, how many Bastards are going to be at the Venereal Diseased Rabbit at once? Well, we went and fucked up the proceedings at an IIW show, what the fuck is stopping us from fucking up the party at your show? Us Bastards conquered OCW too, have you forgotten? We dominate the XWF, one body at a time, and we go to your company to kick your ass for you! Only now, y’all fools came ‘round to our turf, because the XWF is paying for this whole show. Your check, my check, the ring, all supplied by the XWF, because Chris Page sold all his old shit just to pay for parking tickets. Because the Velvet Rabbit could never actually have anything to do with world class talent until the XWF insisted I be a part of this whole show, and let me tell you the beatings will continue until morale improves because I’m pretty low on this whole show, meeting Apathy possibly notwithstanding.

Bobby’s eyes widen as he points skyward momentarily to emphasize the statement. His friends are watching him drone on after too much coffee.

Fuck Denzel Porter. Denzel Porter is the most talentless hack in the business today, he can’t do anything. Can’t promote shows to save his life. Can’t interview anybody relevant this decade. All he does is show up and leech free tickets, which has impacted my scalping routine at shows!

~~~~

We see Cyberjaw and Diamondback standing outside of an arena as crowds holding homemade signs and adorned in XWF merchandise pass them.

Anybody need seats?

We got two! We got two in the front…

Theo Pryce, owner of the XWF and, I’m pretty sure somewhere down the line, was a Bourbon Man, appears behind the duo, pinching each of their ears.

Slackers!

~~~~

We are going to clear out the Cannabis Cup, top to bottom, and what the fuck is stopping us from just going ham on some other company's championship match? Young and Harrison? Well, BastardNET is twice the streaming service that SPLAT is already, might as well steal that belt. Buncha other goofy companies doing title matches, none of them as important as the XWF Universal Championship, but them gold plates, oh yeah, them gold plates all sitting in one, let’s face facts, poorly guarded slum that is the Velvet Rabbit. On top of that…

Bobby clears his throat.

It is in my every interest as a concerned citizen to take all the food from the Velvet Rabbit so it doesn't catch the clap. It's a heist of the best proportion, because the evidence will all be eaten!

So you're going to eat everything at the Velvet Rabbit in between matches?

No. Well, maybe a little depending on what they got that isn't caked with syphilis. We're going to bring it all back to the Bastard’s Den and convert everything into toppings for the hot dog buffet.

I bet you want to give Apathy a hot dog buffet. No wonder you were hollering about top piece so much.

Knock it off.

Here’s hoping she doesn't learn about what you do in bed at night, the messes you leave.

~~~~

We cut to see Bobby laying on his bed. He's wearing his wrestling gear, since he's always ready for a match. He reaches onto his nightstand, and beside a lamp, a glass of water, another backup glass of water, a third glass of water, and an unidentified book, he grabs a remote control. He presses a button, turning a television on. The pale glow from the screen illuminates Bobby as he sets the remote beside him. He glances around. He then reaches over to the side of his bed and retrieves a box of crackers. He opens them and munches on a plain cracker. As he does, we see Joe Biden peeking at him from the edge of the bed.

I thought you went keto.

What the fuck, what are you doing here?

Santa Claus! Tee hee hee.

Bobby furrows his brow.

It’s cheat day. How did you…

Before he can finish, Biden crawls back under Bobby’s bed.

You can't get me in my fort!

Bobby rolls his eyes. We see Joe Biden's hand reach out from under Bobby’s bed.

Can I have a cracker?

No! They're my cheat day.

You're going to get crumbs all over the mattress!

There is nothing worse than crumbs on the bed.

~~~~

Bobby looks embarrassed. Joe looks empowered.

You really hate Kojima.

I hate nobody!

You stand for Kojima?

Fuck yeah!

Everybody else in the room looks very confused.

Who’s Kojima?

Hideo Kojima, he’s a video game guy, loves boobs.

Why are you talking about him?

Wait, which flashback did we just air? The crackers in bed or playing Metal Gear Solid V in bed?

You don’t add those in post?

Nope. It’s not organic.

So, how are you going to rob the kitchen of the Velvet Rabbit? Are you even sure there’s a kitchen?

Of course there’s a kitchen. There has to be. Everybody always talks about that place, how much cash it takes in, there has to be some kind of nosh there. Hold on, lemme call Vinnie.

Bobby pulls his phone out. He boops the screen then presses it against the left side of his face.

Hey Vinnie!

Bobby nods.

No, I’m not in jail again.

Bobby shakes his head.

No, I’m not asking for my own locker room again.

Bobby rolls his eyes.

Look, shut up for a minute. Does the Velvet Rabbit have food?

Bobby’s eyes widen.

Does the Velvet Rabbit have food?

Bobby blinks, having to reiterate the admittedly pretty odd question.

No, I’m not worried about whether I will have a snack. While you were there, what did you eat?

Bobby looks disgusted.

That’s gross. Seriously, I mean food, not innuendo.

Bobby nods.

Alright. Thanks man, see you around.

Bobby looks caught off guards.

What do you mean, they loved me at the board meeting!

Bobby looks at the screen of his phone and boops it, ending the call.

What did you find out?

Happy Birthday, Paulie.

Vinnie had lunch at Peter Luger and hung around with the post-hipster crowd in Brooklyn.

Wow.

Yeah, well, look, here’s the plan. You guys are going to dress up like equipment repairmen. Joe, since you’re so well known, we got you a real cool disguise.

Bobby walks over to Joe while reaching in his pocket. Joe looks up at Bobby with a smile.

Neato!

Bobby pulls a bright purple fake mustache out of his pocket. He places it on the president’s face.

Now, don’t lose that for the next two weeks before the heist. Keep it on, keep a low profile, really get into the character of being someone who fixes stoves.

I always wanted to fix a stove!

Ooh, ooh! Pick me!

Axe Mannix raises his hand.

Go for it buddy!

Can I be the refrigerator repairman? I always wanted to figure out how a refrigerator works!

You could always have done that one your own time, but sure! You get a blue mustache.

Are we all going to wear mustaches?

You are all going to wear mustaches.

Do you want me to just grow mine out?

Negative. One, I already bought the mustaches. Two, I don’t want to have to buy dye now to color your mustache blaze orange.

The whole of the room looks pleased with the plan in place, as stupid as it is. Fortunately, Bobby, while a horrid thief, is a really good wrestler. Axe Mannix still hasn’t lowered his hand, pleased as punch he gets to portray a refrigerator repairman. Joe Biden is looking into a make-up compact mirror, admiring his fine purple false mustache. Diamondback seems nonplussed, rolling himself a blunt. Cyberjaw is the only one who looks concerned.

What about the whole thing with opening a gas station?

We had to scrap it, gas is too expensive. Look, I think that we have the means, we have the tools, and we have the talent, and we’re going to rob the Velvet Rabbit blind!

With that, Barney Green, that loveable bastard, enters the office.

Hey Bobby, sorry to interrupt.

Barney, you’re a Bastard, stop apologizing.

Sorry.

Bobby snorts.

What’s up bud?

Well, the prototype Retinal Inhibitor you wanted is finished.

Oh, good. Man, I really am glad I invested in technology instead of that magic hogwash that seems rampant in the business. Does it work?

I think.

Barney holds up a metallic object. It looks unique, but also like it’s distinctly made from common household items one could find in a store. Barney boops the side of the thing, and a bright light emits from it in a cone, directly into Bobby’s eyes.

Dammit!

Bobby covers his eyes and starts to rub them.

Sorry.

Oh no…

Bobby looks up and looks around the room, then looks mortified.

I can’t see!

It works!

It fucking works, yeah, but now I can’t see!

I guess that means you won’t get distracted by gawking at Apathy anymore.

Shut the fuck up, dick!

Thank you for watching Blinded, only on BastardNET. Fuck SPLAT! BastardNET. We’ll be back after these messages from our sponsors. Buy their shit!

~~~~

🎶There’s always something cooking at the Yummy Burger!🎶

The lively jingle starts to play as we see a family of four at their local Yummy Burger. The very portrayed-by-actors looking family is pleased as punch to be there. A young woman takes their order at the register.

🎶We got the best burgers at the Yummy Burger!🎶

The family is pleased their food is on the way. We go back to the kitchen. We see a disgruntled employee flip off the camera, then begin to construct the food. They follow the guide and put down a bun. They roll their eyes, using tongs to remove a hamburger patty from a drawer and put it on. They then clear their throat and spit a huge wad of phlegm onto the patty.

🎶They spit on your food if they don’t like you at the Yummy Burger!🎶

The morose employee places a slice of cheese on top of their spit. We see another employee pouring a soda. Orange. He laughs, does a line of cocaine off the counter, then sets the soda on the counter beside where he did his drugs.

🎶We don’t drug test at the Yummy Burger!🎶

We see an employee standing beside a huge set of heat lamps overlooking a metal basin holding french fries. The employee sneezes all over the fries while shaking salt on them.

🎶We don’t offer benefits at the Yummy Burger!🎶

Behind the Yummy Burger, the local franchise owner is smiling while hiding a shipment of stolen electronics in the walk-in while handing cash to a couple of goons.

🎶The ownership is mobbed up at the Yummy Burger!🎶

The meal gets wrapped up and served to a man waiting at the counter. He takes his tray of food and sits. He sips his orange soda, and then puts a fry in his mouth with a smile.

🎶We don’t give a fuck at the Yummy Burger!🎶

Yummy Burger! Now with extra microplastic in every meal!

~~~~

We now return to Blinded, only on BastardNET. BastardNET, the channel your dad would have watched back in the 70’s before everybody became pussies.

Bobby is seated at his desk. Ash, Bobby’s stylist, is at work, dousing his peepers with eye drops.

Any change?

Fuck no.

Sorry Bobby.

I know you didn’t mean anything bad by it, Barney, but you’re going to have to pull a Charlie here.

Okay.

Barney reaches into his pocket and pulls out a potato peeler. Cyberjaw hands him a convenient bag of potatoes, and Barney starts to peel them right there in the office, the peelings falling to the floor among the shattered glass and coffee stain.

Bro, we designed that thing to only be temporary, but we haven’t tested it yet!

Well, in that case, I’m the test subject. And also, it’s a good thing that I’m the Grand High PooBOB, a world renowned talent. Because I can get this done!

Ash backs away as Bobby stands. He looks at a wall and points at it.

With the Bastard as my witness, I will steal all the food from the Velvet Rabbit. And win the Cannabis Cup!