Some people thought Bobby wasn’t taking anything seriously based on his last promo.

Nobody in their right mind should take Jenny Myst seriously.

WATCH THE MAGIC

We catch up with Bobby, cleaning up a bookcase he spilled all over Theo Pryce’s office. He’s fairly bad at the task, often looking at the covers or spines of the books he’s picking up out of curiosity instead of just placing them onto a shelf so he can open the door and leave. Theo sighs.

Bobby, you could always leave through one of my dozens of secret passages.

You’ll just make me go into a trap, it’s the oldest trick in the book.

Theo smirks.

I would. There’s a Yeti running around somewhere in XWF Headquarters in a labyrinth for some reason, I think someone wanted to do a match like that once and we couldn’t just kill the Yeti, PETA would be kinda pissed about that.

Aha!

Aha what?

Bobby points at Theo’s crotch.

You said not having genitals was the oldest trick in the book.

Theo shrugs.

You got me. I was tucking.

Tucking!

Bobby’s eyes widen with a surprise realization of respect for Theo’s craftiness and business acumen; when someone comes for your balls, tuck.

Well, Theo, since you’re obviously a man of science, which one of your secret passages is the one you use when you want to feel like Batman?

Which Batman? I have like four of them.

You know which one.

Oh boy, this is going to be great!

Theo approaches a bust of Don Quixote and pushes it back, revealing a yellow button. He pushes it, and another bookshelf slides away to reveal a set of fire poles. Bobby and Theo jump on the poles. Bobby rockets the fuck down being a massive superheavyweight contender. He waits a second at the bottom for Theo to be there. Instead of a classic Batman ‘66 Batcave, though, it looks like a safe room.

Huh.

Yeah, there’s nothing cool down here. Let’s go.

Theo opens a door and he and Bobby walk into a service corridor within the XWF Headquarters.

~~~~~

WORD COUNT!

New, from BourbCo, the fun new game you and your family will love!

We see a family sitting at a table, a mom, a dad, a son, and a daughter. Classic commercial family. You may have seen them having spaghetti somewhere. The kids both raise their arms and squeal with delight.

WORD COUNT! WORD COUNT!

Word Count! It’s the fun family game that’ll bring you all together!

We see an old lady and an old man approach the table simultaneously, like they choreographed it.

Grandma! Grandpa! We’re playing Word Count!

The old people smile and look excited. Two other adults, one male, one female, arrive with another pair of son and daughter siblings.

Uncle Bill, Aunt Mary, cousin Paul and cousin Stephanie, we’re playing Word Count!

The extended family pull up convenient chairs in this expansive living room. As they do, a priest, a rabbi, and an imam walk in.

Father Paper, Rabbi Rock, Imam Scissors! We’re playing Word Count!

The assembled clergy sit in with the family, because Word Count is family fun for all families. The dad opens the box and puts on the official Word Count Dracula cape!

From BourbCo!

~~~~~

Theo’s rubbing his forehead.

So, you kept referencing Word Count in your last promo to hype a new board game you’re selling?

Yes.

Bobby is calmly nodding in agreement with his statement.

How do you play it?

I don’t know, I think you wear a vampire cape and get long winded, TK came up with it.

Weird.

Whatever Tucker Max, where are we headed?

Bobby and Theo are still walking around in the maintenance tunnels of the XWF Headquarters, which for some reason are underlit with glowy blue lights so it looks like it’s from some sci-fi show from the 00’s.

Well, uh, I forgot, actually. Heh.

You forgot! Theo, I know you’re tuck tactics terminated tragedy before, but I may kick you in the dick for real if you get me lost in the goofy lost match stipulations of XWF past so I can’t even win the TV Title!

Look, I’m trying, don’t be such a worry wart.

Who the fuck wanted to have a match, oh, damn.

What is it?

Bobby looks around.

You did this! This is where Darth Vader froze Han Solo in carbonite, you had this stipulation in your crazy Star Warfare.

Ah.

Theo looks at Bobby.

Well, be a good sport and don’t take it too seriously, Bobby. C’mon.

Theo and Bobby approach a door. Theo opens it. There’s a legit boiler room. Charlie Nickles is sitting in there.

Charlie! There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you! I have a secret message for you!

I already got it.

Charlie winks. Bobby closes the door.

Wait, you had a message?

Yeah. Charlie should totally go challenge LSM for the Xtreme Championship. I mean, why the fuck wouldn’t he? I’m off to reclaim the TV Title for BOB, Charlie can knock LSM off no problemo!

Oh, okay…

Theo doesn’t look like he’s very happy with the idea, but, well, it makes perfect sense for Bobby to encourage the fellow members of BOB to go attack people for championships. Both men come to a bend, the hall continuing onward to the right, a big door with the word ALIAS written on it to the left, however. Bobby looks at Theo then at the big shiny door.

What’s…

Bobby, no.

Bobby walks towards the door, but Theo hardly stops him. Bobby opens it, and we see the boring plain grid interior of the Holodeck from Star Trek: TNG.

I knew it.

Well, I mean, actually filming across dimensions got expensive after the first time.

Fair, and hey, we just went from Star Wars to Star Trek in like ten minutes, not bad. So can I do something really quick?

Sure.

Theo facepalms. Bobby walks up and speaks to the Holodeck Wall.

Holodeck, run a simulation where a sprinkler is shooting toothpaste everywhere while Dee Snyder from Twisted Sister saws a banjo in half with a Husqvarna chainsaw and my dad has just finished making some hot dogs on the grill.

The room shifts and phases like we’re going into another dimension, and soon we see Dee Snyder.

I WANNA ROCK!

He lifts the chainsaw up high and sets to cut the biggest banjo ever with it. I’m talking a major banjo. An ornate garden fountain complete with cherubs spitting toothpaste around is seen, keeping everything smelling minty fresh. Bobby’s dad waves from the grill.

Two more minutes, son!

Bobby, this is honestly the most purely innocent thing anyone has ever done in this room.

Oh, like…

Theo looks grossed out and nods.

Oh shit my hologram dad is a bunch of cum stains isn’t he.

Holodeck, end simulation.

The room returns to it’s boring gray state.

How many times a day does Vinnie hop in here?

As Bobby asks, the doors slide open again, and we see Vinnie Lane in a bath robe.

Speak of the devil!

Woah, am I interrupting?

No, no, we were just leaving.

Theo and Bobby walk out of the fantastic hologram simulation room. As they do, the doors close. Vinnie talks at the wall.

Holodeck, protocol Loverboy.

The room turns into a strangely cave-like room, as though it were carved out of it’s place, and lit with sconces around the room. At it’s center, bubbling, appears to be a mud bath. Vinnie doffs his robe and walks in, giving us a full view of his buttocks along with the tip of his dick and balls because like most savvy wrestling promoters, he too tucks.

~~~~~

Up next, on BastardNET, during this BOB Promo marathon…

We see Bobby Bourbon standing and pointing. He shouts.

You’re a liar!

Bobby looks intense as all hell as he does. Maybe you recall that very recorded promo, the series that encapsulates one hundred percent of Bobby’s promos!

~~~~~

Theo and Bobby are seen outside of the XWF Headquarters near a park, which is convenient geography.

So all those times you kept bringing up RPs…

Yeah man, me and TK always do Recorded Promos. We don’t do the live ones anymore.

Huh. I never knew!

You never asked! But for short, we just call them RPs now.

Bobby winks at Theo. He then looks at the camera, a saccharine smile on his face.



Jenny, you poor thing you. For starters, you gotta be brain damaged. Absolutely brain damaged. First you say I complain too much; have you ever heard yourself talk? I would say pot, kettle, black, but that line is actually really stupid, so I’ll say what we all know it to be; Jenny being Jenny being brain damaged. Fuck, my last promo I walked right in, grabbed a man by the balls, and yanked. That is not your run-of-the-mill Karen style bullshit that you practice, no no, that’s getting results. When you got the better of me by fooling me into thinking I had to follow your rules, when you didn’t, I didn’t even complain. I went out and made my statement; that I wanted a rematch, plain and fucking simple. I’m not complaining, I’m walking down to the fucking ring on Savage and planting your fucking head into the canvas over and over enough times to pin you. What I want to know is what kind of tantrum you’re going to throw when you can’t even pull your own hair out over losing.

Bobby rolls his eyes.

You’re brain damaged for bringing up the whole…

Bobby starts doing a nasaly annoying voice, sounding like Jenny.

‘You don’t like me, I don’t like you’

Bobby clears his throat and resumes his regular speech.

…spiel, almost verbatim from your last promo, like it was good shit then. Jenny, I’ma clear some shit up for you, I don’t expect it to stick since you have the brain of a sixty-year-old NFL veteran with more lesions than your disease ridden vagoo for Christ’s sake, but nobody likes you. It’s not just me, no, you’re pretty much disliked and reviled by everybody for, well, just being you, in much the same way people don’t like garbage, or farting in public. You’re worse than both. But, fair enough, by proxy, I don’t like you. You not liking me, well, shit, I don’t really care what you like or dislike, little girl, my day sure as fuck doesn’t begin or end wondering ‘say, does that garbage public fart like me now?’ You could love strawberries, hate blueberries, love the Goo Goo Dolls, hate the way water coming out of faucets sound, really, none of that fucking matters to me, all that matters are the two things I’m taking from you at Savage, your hair and the Television Championship.

Bobby runs his fingers through his hair, smiling at the camera.

Fuck, Jenny, you claim we have some disdain for each other dating back to twenty-sixteen, which is really unfortunate. No, it’s not unfortunate because I feel like we could have been something special, it’s not unfortunate because we’ve had some kind of rivalry, because we haven’t, like I said I don’t sweat the small stuff so I sure as fuck don’t sweat your existence, no ma’am. It’s not unfortunate because of where our careers would have been today if only the other wasn’t around, and hell, for much of it you weren’t. No, what’s really, really, unfortunate is you didn’t debut for the XWF until twenty-seventeen, which means you have had your dome cracked so hard by so many you don’t even remember when you got here, and what’s worse, you think you’ve been here longer than you actually have. I remember your ex was around, the creepy greasy bastard he is, who was the definition of ‘flash-in-the-pan’, but you? You didn’t show up until much later. Is that it, Jenn? Are you trying to win back the affections of your loser, footnote ex-boyfriend, and in doing so, that’s how you’re embracing who you really are? A brain damaged set of sloppy seconds nobody wants or cares to touch; Jenny, we’ve all embraced who you really are! And that’s just never good enough.

Bobby shakes his head slowly, looking disappointed.

You were never cool, never great, never really doing anything important besides waiting and holding a championship here and there, by hook or by crook, until you get molly whopped by someone more deserving. By me, at Savage. I want the people, not you Jenny, you’re a slow and feebleminded thing, and I’m here for them right now, I don’t give a fuck what you think you’re a garbage public fart and all. People, XWF fans the whole fucking world around…

Bobby waves.

How the fuck are you doing? So, let me fill you guys in on some shit, because by now Jenny has begun drooling into her Fruit Loops because the words were too mean and direct. First off, sorry I have been doing a shaky job, at best, at being the Grand High PooBOB you deserve. Oops, I forgot, someone high up in the XWF wanted to be funny. You were funny, Theo.

Thank you.

About time, too. So, you should run off, Theo, since I don’t want people think our association gives me an advantage in my match, I don’t need an advantage, if I wanted one I woulda took one instead of opting for a fucking hair match and opting to shave the swine in the ring after I pin ‘er.

Au Revoir!

Theo smiles and runs off into a field to frolic and play in the sun.

Look, XWF people, y’all know, I’m a no good, mean as hell sumbitch who’s hellbound if it weren’t for the fact I scare the devil himself. I tell you all, plain as day, I’m a piece of shit. How do you like it? Let me know how awful I am, lord knows, I don’t ask for feedback, I just do what I feel like and then watch people clean it up. I bring all of you, the bloodthirsty, the vicious, the real creatures out there a show for those who want to see a human body get trampled by a one man stampede. I swear, if I were allowed to wear horns or just some blades on my arms, and just get into pure fucking gladiatorial combat, I would, maybe that’s up the road when I defend my TV Title. I didn’t do that this time, I know, and I’m sorry, XWF Universe. I apologize! I beg unto our Bastard Savior that in his name I am granted further purpose for having not given unto the masses the massacre of the millenium. I could have slaughtered Jenny Myst in any manner of match types with whatever I fucking wanted; people could have seen me slam her through glass tables, people could have seen me carve into her with a cheese grater. The people even could have watched me Bobbybomb her into a fucking fire hydrant, a solid porcelain toilet, into a big aquarium filled with piranha, through some electrified cage, or even into pure flame itself, but no. No! I have denied my Bastard Savior an offering of blood and bone in this way, but I will still deliver blood and bone unto thee in that ring.

TK walks up.


I, the Bastard King, my crown forged in blood, my throne forged in skulls, no longer PooBOB but now accepting my role as conqueror. I will bring back the scalp of my enemy in the ring at Savage, and we will all laugh in unison at how ridiculous Jenny looks without hair.

Bobby and TK exchange a no-look fistbump. TK dips out again, a Bastard’s work is never done.

Jenny, the one thing I do rely on you to do, though, is to call anybody for help. Sound the alarms, pull the sirens, get a fucking boat horn involved, you can hope for the Royal Canadian Mounties, the NYPD, the Avengers, or even Popeye to come save your ass and find something, anything, you can exploit to get a win over me, to accuse me of cheating just because I’m better than you every fucking day we share on this earth and you can not let it the fuck go. For you, Saturday will be another chapter in the long lie you tell yourself, but for me, it will be another Saturday and the forgotten champ I dusted off.