You obviously turned on BastardNet TV to see the latest installation of the new BOB trilogy, ‘A Few Xbux More’. When we last left off on this epic adventure we saw two notorious roughnecks on the run from the long arm of the law. Bobby Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles, two of the most real motherfuckers left in the old west, were last seen riding away from a small town called Truth and Consequences in New Mexico after Nickle Eyes skipped town. The camera fades in on a dusty shot of Bobby and TK taking a break from riding under the beating hot sun. TK passes a half-empty waterskin over to Bourbon, who takes a few sips of it before passing the half-full waterskin back to TK.

Where are we headed next?

Should be a town up ahead.

Why are you never in the news?

I’m not wanted.

Bobby gingerly places his hand on TK’s shoulder.

Plenty of people want you around.

Thanks, Bobby, I fucking appreciate that.

We should probably get off the path a little bit. So not to be noticed by some law dogs or bounty hunters before we make it to the next town.

TK looks around as the sun is setting over the flat desert sands. There’s not another soul in sight for miles, but you never know when that might change.

Not a bad idea, Bobby.

The two men grab their horse's leads and start walking off the beaten path to try and find a place to make camp for the night.

You know, I’ve never had a partner that’ll ride and die, quite like you.

Not everyone is as loyal as me, dawg. When the chips are down you can always rely on me.

Like-wise.

Once the two men find a boulder to shield themselves from the road they begin making camp for the night.





The wildest cowboy in the west pulls up to a surreal carnival that has been put up on the outskirts of a small New Mexico town. Bright purple, pink, and orange spotlights flash up towards the sky on repeat, like the acid-washed nightmare of an epileptic. Various porkish women in clown make-up run around this carnal circus offering their ‘special’ services to the paying guests. Little acid-washed tents are set up all around the carnival, surrounding the classic attractions like the carousel and the popcorn stand. Every few minutes we see different men walking into these tents, then we hear them moaning, then we see the men walk out and we watch the process repeat.

Nickle Eyes knows exactly what this place is because he’s been here a million times before. This outlaw bastard has a long history of getting close to, and then murdering, the whores in this traveling Meat Clown Circus. He made a dirty habit out of picking a favorite carnival attraction, showering her with golden treasures, only

The woman working the ticket booth was none too pleased to see Nickle Eyes ride up on his pale white bronco.

Hey, no! You can’t be here, I’m going to call Sheriff Raven and his posse-boys on you!

Nickle Eyes flashes a gap-toothed smile at the troubled woman as he pulls a pair of used knee pads out from under his rawhide jacket. The same pair of knee pads he lifted from Smokin’ Bob’s homestead.

Oh hey now, I don’t know who you think I am or what you think I’ve done….I’m just here to return a set of knee pads my favorite whore left behind. Is Janie Msyt available to give me a quick rim job?

You have a new favorite, huh? Get out of here! You’re not welcome in our tents anymore, not after what you did to Atara, Betsy, Lycana, and Lacklan!

Nickle Eyes sits atop his horse and casually blinks at each of the names listed.

Whomst? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of those walking, talking wet holes…maybe you could introduce the whole lot of us, though?

The woman at the front gate reaches underneath the counter and pulls out a .12 gauge shotgun that she quickly cocks.

Scram!

Woooaaah there, sprinkle tits! I ain’t doing nothing wrong, and besides, I’m already going! You don’t want your hoor to have these kneepads back? Fine by me, I’ll just start jizzing into them every night!

The woman points the shotgun towards Nickle Eyes, but he quickly digs his heels into the ribs of his bronco, forcing the horse to ride off to the side, out of the line of sight of the woman at the front gate. After taking a brief lap around the traveling brothel/carnival double stop, he brings his horse to a halt and takes another gander at the Meat Clown Circus, albeit from a more distant position. The outlaw bastard reaches into his saddle and pulls out a black monocular with a bloodstain on the lens. Nickle Eyes lifts the rose-tinted glass up to his right eye so he can inspect the circus more closely.

That’s when he spots a bald woman walking around with blue bruises on her knees. She’s going from John to John to try and find a client, but everyone is turning her away because she’s a bald ugly bitch.

Bingo. Just as Smokin’ Bob described her.

Nickle Eyes watches the woman for a few more minutes, analyzing her every movement. Eventually she’s able to find an obese old man who is desperate enough to purchase her services (kinda like Smokin’ Bob), and she leads him by the hand towards a purple tent set at the far edge of the carnival grounds.

Looks like it’s go-time. Wait here for me, aight, partnah?

The outlaw puts his blood-stained monocular away before patting his bronco’s neck and hopping off the saddle. Nickle Eyes takes a crouching stance as he slowly creeps towards these oh-so-familiar traveling campgrounds. After a few minutes of careful maneuvering and sneaky stepping, Nickle Eyes is just feet away from Janie Myst’s tent.

Nickle Eyes takes up residence in a nearby bush as waits out the moaning wails of the lonely whale being serviced by the only bald meat clown. After some time the tent grows quiet, and shortly thereafter that a bare-chested old fatfuck walks out of the tent while zipping up his trousers. He mumbles some drunken nonsense to himself before holding his shirt up in the air and grinning at whatever stupid slogan is printed on it.


The cowboy rolls his Nickle Eyes as he waits for the stupid old man to finally get the fuck out of dodge. The drunken whoremonger begins stumbling away from the tent, probably to the bar, giving Nickle Eyes the exact opportunity he has been waiting for. The wildest cowboy in the west sneaks towards the tent before moving the opening flap to the side and pushing himself right in.

Hold on one minute big boy, if you want to have a second round you need to wait for me to get done waxing these pubes. I’m hoping I can make a wig out of them!

Oh, but don’t you want your kneepads back, sweetheart?

The bald meat clown turns around in shock while completely nude, revealing that she has a bunch of wax strips stuck inside her massive blonde bush. Her nipples, however, have been censored by the BOB logo for modesty! Nickle Eyes pulls Janie’s knee pads out and flashes them to her with a shitheel grin.

Why don’t you come over here and suck a real man’s cock? If you act like my good little bitch I’ll give you everything you want.

Nickle Eyes smirks as he starts to undo his zipper. Janie Myst pauses in hesitation; she knows Nickle Eyes’ reputation, but she really wants those kneepads, and she’s also really dumb- so she starts crawling on her hands and knees towards the cowboy.

Ok, I’ll do whatever you say if you promise to give me what I want!

Janie pulls herself up with the help of Nickle Eyes’ trousers. She is about to reach into the cowboy’s open zipper when, out of nowhere, he starts beating the fuck out of her with her own kneepads!

AGGGGGGHHHHH!

YOU DUMB BITCH! THE ONLY THING I WAS EVER GIVING YOU WAS A GUARANTEED BEATING! A GUARANTEED EMBARRASSMENT!

The bald woman screams as The Nickleman forces her to the ground and starts smacking her in the face with the dirty knee pads. They don’t seem to be doing much damage, however, but Nickle Eyes sure does seem to be enjoying himself, and Janie Myst sure does seem to be in fear for her life!

You’re going to tell me what I want to know!

Okay! Okay! I’ll do anything you tell me to do, daddy! Just don’t hurt me!

Nickle Eyes gets off the downed woman, only to stand over her menacingly. He holds the kneepads at the ready, one in each hand, as he stares down at her with a crazed blood thirst.

I want to know every fucking thing there is to know about Marcus Flynt.

Janie’s eyes go wide as she reflexively gulps.

M-m-my Marcus? No….I don’t want you to hurt him…he’s my golden ticket now…

Nickle Eyes shrugs.

Well bitch, don’t say I didn’t try to do this the easy way!

AAAAGGGGHHHHHHH HEL-

The bastard hops back on top of the woman and covers her mouth with one of the kneepads. Then, he begins completely wailing on her with the other pad! It’s so fucked up! But then suddenly, two douchey looking squares step in front of the camera and try to block the image. That’s when the director, Barney Green, has to speak up!

Hey, Standards and Practices, dudes, get out of my shot! We already cleared this scene with the legal team, he’s not going to rape her, he’s just beating her- so get a move on!

Charlie and Alexis Cabrera, who is wearing a bald cap, stare up at the Standards and Practices guys with complete disgust.

Are you serious? This is art. You guys are just mad you’re not as good at acting as we are!

Alexis Cabrera quickly steps to her feet and shoos the censorship crew away.

Coming back to the film the night rages on Bobby stays awake by the fire as it crackles TK sleeps snoring and making noises, because he has a sleeping disorder. Bobby hears something but can’t place it in time. Out springs a dirty older man.

I gotcha!

Who the fuck are you?

I’m Murky Waters and this here is my sister-cousin Shallow Waters.

Out walks a cruddy-looking butch of a woman.

How could I forget about her daughters? Waste Waters, and her three kids Stagnant, Burbling, and last but not least, Salt Waters. Their Paw, Overflowing Waters, he died trying to steal horses. That, there, is the reason why we’ve become outlaws.

From behind the boulder walks a small village of hill people. Deformed and drooling on themselves.

Jesus, how did guys sneak up on us?

Bobby kicks TK’s boot which causes TK to spring up in a sitting position.

The money’s on the dresser, sweet tits.

Bobby looks confused at TK.

What the fuck is going on here?

Looks like we’ve been caught by some inbreds.

TK looks around and sees the monstrosities around the two of them. That’s when their leader walked out from behind the boulder.

You yella' belly’ whiners have been caught by the Waters Gang.

Bobby sarcastically asks what this one’s name is.

And you are?

Dully Waters.

Seems accurate.

You two boys have been ducking my gang for over a month.

TK and Bobby seem confused by this information, look at each other, then back to Dully.

Us?

Ducking you?

The two men look back at each other and have a good laugh before Dully gets upset and throws a tantrum.

Listen here you two! I’m going to turn you in for the bounty on Bobby’s head and watch TK hang along with him for aiding and embedding.

Woah, there, country booty, we’re just friends.

Best friends.

But neither one of us is bedding each other.

What?

We ain’t fuckin, bitch.

No… It means…

I know what the fuck it means.

TK extends his pointer finger on one hand want makes zero with his other. He starts thrusting his pointer finger in and out of the hole. While Bobby whistles as TK’s fingers go in and out.

Murky!

Yes, mam.

The dirty old man licks his lip and rubs his hands together.

Tie’em up.

Murky motions to Shallow and Waste, each bobble over with ropes for both Bobby and TK.

Now what?

TK reaches for his gun but Dully kicks it away, but in true Dully fashion, she kicks it right to Bobby. Bobby doesn’t waste any time unloading the rifle shooting Stagnant and Burbling with one shot to their head and neck respectively. Bobby rushes in and hits Murky in the bridge of the nose with the gun stock. Dully quickly ducks behind the boulder. TK springs up to his feet in one fluid motion and catches Shallow Waters with a right uppercut, sending her manly-looking ass falling to the ground. Waste Water grabs TK from behind but Bobby cracks her head with the butt of the rifle like a baseball bat.

Good form.

I’ve been practicing.

Bobby hands TK the rifle. Acting like there's no time to spare TK reloads and one by one TK places a bullet in their skulls.

Did you have to kill them?

Well, I figure, I’m doing them a goddamn favor.

Where’d the blonde go?

TK points to behind the boulder. The two men give each other a nod. Bobby goes one way around the boulder and TK goes the other. Once each man rounds the corner of the boulder they don’t see Dully. They see a horse-drawn covered wagon. TK walks up to the back of the wagon and opens the flap with the rifle. He doesn’t see anything but barrels and a goat.

Bobby!

Yeah, TK?

Come over here and check this shit out.

Bobby walks over, TK still looking inside making sure if Dully is in there she doesn’t try to escape.

What is it?

What do them damn barrels say?

A smirk forms on Bobby’s face.

TNT.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Steal the barrels and blow up the next town?

What? No… I’m more of an instant gratification kind of fucking guy.

At that moment Dully tries to jump out of one of the barrels that were emptied out, scaring the goat.

Don’t shoot. If you do. I’m dead.

That’s kinda the point.

Yeah, why do you point out the obvious?

I’ve got information and if you promise me you won’t shoot me. I’ll give it to you.

TK looks over at Bobby, who shrugs at the notion that Dully Waters would know anything at all.

Fuck it, I won’t shoot you. Spill your guts, rat.

I’ve been told that there's a place farther west folks are calling it Anaheim.

What the fuck is in Analheim?

Anaheim.

Yeah, that's what I said. Keep going.

They say that’s where…

Bobby has already grown tired of hearing Dully Waters speak.

Fuck it! I’m bored.

Bobby punches her in the mouth.

What the Hell, man?

You’re trying to buy time.

Bobby reaches into the wagon and pulls out a rope. TK grabs Dolly by the nape of the neck and pulls her small ass down. Bobby begins binding her hands together behind her back and her feet together. Bobby grabs one of the barrels and hurls it over his shoulder. TK takes out a bowie knife, stabs the barrel, and twists. The black powder flowing from the barrel now. Bobby takes ten steps away and makes a trail of powder on the ground. With the rifle still fixed on Dully Waters she exclaims,

You said you wouldn’t shoot me.

Bobby can be heard mocking her in the distance.

“Waah, You said you wouldn’t shoot me.”

As TK walks backward ten steps he says,

Are you calling me a goddamn liar?

Bobby launchers the barrel back to the covered wagon. TK pulls out a cigar and lights a match off Bobby’s jawline. TK lifts the match to light his cigar, he takes a couple of puffs, before flicking the burning match onto the black powder. Dully finally realizes what's happening and gets out the words.

YOU BASTARDS!

The covered wagon explodes with the quickness and thus creating a bloody Dully Waters rain shower. Bobby's eyes are wide in shock.

That was pretty cool.

Fuck yeah, it was!

We cut back to a brutal scene with Janie Myst and Nickle Eyes still inside of that meat clown tent. The actress in the bald cap now has a ton of makeup and special effects blood splashed across her face, indicating that a severe beating has happened. The bleeding whore lays on the ground, sobbing as she gets choked out by the outlaw bastard.

TELL ME EVERYTHING I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT MARCUS FLYNT BEFORE I KILL YOU, BITCH!

OKAY! OKAY! I YIELD!

Nickle Eyes loosens his grip on Janie Myst’s throat, allowing her to catch just a few breaths before he slowly starts tightening that grip.

Start talking, Janie!

He was here yesterday! He gave me a Benjamin, so I ate his button out! But he left, heading to the west, because he said there was a buried treasure he had to dig up before anyone else got to it!

Nickle Eyes relaxes his grip on her throat.

He went west for treasure? How far west?

Marcus didn’t tell me exactly, but he said he’d be back to the carnival in a few days with a lot more gold to give me- and I love it when big, strong men give me gold that I could never get on my own!

Nickle Eyes sighs and shakes his head in disapproval of the whore’s total desperation.

What else do you know about where he’s going?

Ummm….nothing else really….oh! He said he was going to a cemetery, I remember that because dead stuff turns me on!

Oh, that’s good. I’m glad we have the same kink.

Oh yeah, baby? Did you want to let me go and we coul-GGGHGHGHGHGHGHGH

Janie begins to choke and gag as Nickle Eyes starts squeezing her throat so hard that he can feel his palms touching each other with her fleshy neck in the middle. Janie’s eyes start to roll back.

Remember what I said earlier, cutie pie? You just told me everything you know about Marcus Flynt…..and sweetcheeks, you should know by now that I’m a man of my word!

Nickle Eyes cackles hysterically as he squeezes the life out of Janie Myst. He holds onto her throat for far longer than necessary before he reaches into his pocket and places a pair of nickels on her eyes. He then crawls over towards a small satchel in the corner and steals all of Janie’s hard-earned cash, leaving the kneepads in her satchel instead. The wildest cowboy in the west blows a bloody kiss toward his victim before he ducks out of the tent, and vanishes off into the dark of the night.

With Dully’s body scattered around and on the boulder, not to mention the rest of the Waters gang dead behind the boulder. An opened topped wagon approaches.  That at first glance everything seems normal until it gets right on top of Bobby and TK.

Holy fuck!

The wagon comes to a halt.

How many goddamn dead bodies are on there?

The driver of the wagon replies in a somber tone.

This here civil war has taken too many men to count.

A groaning can be heard from the wagon. Bobby walks around to check out the noise.

Dude, this one is alive.

The man driving the wagon looks shocked as TK gives him a “what the fuck” face, the drivers shrugs.

I thought he was dead.

Looking over at the man on the wagon TK asks,

What’s your name, mother fucker?

The man groans out his name.

Marcus…  Flynt…

Do you need some water or something?

I don’t think water is going to help his gunshot wound.

The pathetic-looking Marcus Flynt shakes his head yes.

See! All the man needs is some fucking water. Bobby picks him up and take him over to our horses. We have half of a whole ass canteen of water left.

Bobby picks up Marcus Flynt and places him on his shoulder. He carefully walks the man over to the boulder and places him sitting up. While Bobby is taking Marcus Flynt over to the boulder TK is keeping the driver busy.

Don’t worry, soldier, we’ll get you some water and be on our way.

How did you know I’m a soldier?

Bobby looks at Marcus like he’s a complete dumbass.

Umm, Your uniform.

Marcus suddenly remembers that he’s still wearing his gray Confederate Chris Page Empire uniform. Bobby looks around and notices the horses are gone.

The Trilogy Union surrounded us on our way up north… I’m… I’m the only one who made it out.

That fucking sucks…

I know-

Oh, shit, not that our horses are gone.

Bobby bends over and picks up the half-full canteen of water and tosses it at Marcus.

So, where are you headed now that you’re awake?

Gritting his teeth Marcus groans in pain.

I suppose I’ll head out west to a place a group of us call Anaheim.

Sounds lame, like it's not cool enough to be LA.

After I heal up in Anaheim... I’m going to go dig up my gold in Lake Valley, just west of here.

cool story, I really don’t give a shit. Stay here I’ll be right back.

Bobby leaves Marcus Flynt to walk back over to TK and the driver of the wagon. TK who’s been getting information about where the driver just left and why all these men were dead.

We have a problem, TK

Looking over at Bobby, TK wipes the sweat off his brow.

What’s wrong?

The horses are gone.

FUCK!

TK looks over at the driver of the wagon.

Think you can give us a lift?

I suppose, I could, but we have to get moving the sun will be coming up soon. These bodies are going to stink in the sun.

Shaking his head in discontent.

Fine. Bobby, get situated. I’ll go get, ol’ boy, and we’ll make our fucking way.

TK walks over to the boulder where Marcus Flynt is sitting.

Hey, fucker, seeing as our horses are gone we’re going to hitch a goddamn ride with you guys. Can you walk?

Marcus is still badly wounded but is a prideful warrior, maybe too prideful.

I think so.

Good.

Marcus tries to get to his feet but fails.

Christ, hold on.

TK puts Marcus’s arm around his shoulder and helps him up.

I have to make it to the grave.

What the fuck are you going on about?

The grave… APEX.

I have no goddamn clue what you’re talking about.

It’s in the cemetery.

Well, shit for brains, that’s usually where graves are.

Marcus’s weakened body is to heavy and TK drops him. Giving out a pathetic whimper Murcus’s body hit the ground.

We don’t have fucking time for this.

TK grabs Marcus’s arm and drags him the rest of the way to the wagon.

Bobby, throw this piece of shit back on the wagon and let’s go.

Bobby nods his head and does as TK asks.

Are you boys ready?

Yep.

Let’s fucking go.

With only a few hours of night left Bobby and TK catch a ride out west. We cut to a shot of Nickle Eyes galloping through the hot New Mexico sands. He hunkers down on his pale white bronco of death, riding past a crossroads sign pointing west. As he continues to make his way down the path to Marcus Flynt, he comes upon a pile of fresh corpses lying just off the roadside. While most people would cover their nose at such a stench, this outlaw bastard breathes the rot in it like it were kush smoke.

Well what do we have here….another battle from that civil war the big boys got going on?

Nickle Eyes approaches the scene of devastation before hopping off his saddle and planting his feet firmly in the dirt. By now the outlaw cowboy can tell clearly that there are four bodies on the ground: three with gunshot wounds to the skull, and one smoldering corpse that appears to have been exploded. With his hand on his holster, Nickle Eyes slowly starts walking towards the flaming flesh, where a column of black smoke is rising up to the heavens. The outlaw just shrugs, though, because he’s seen worse. Had sex with worse, even!

Nickle Eyes looks down at the ground and sees what he thinks started the fire in the first place: the burning remnants of a half-smoked Dutch cigar (aka a keefy spliff). Nickle Eyes crouches down and picks up the cigar, inspecting it closely.

Now, this is classy.

Nickle Eyes smiles to himself before he tucks the half-smoked cigar into his own pocket, presumably to finish it off later. That’s when a wounded woman stumbles out from behind a boulder, barely clinging on to life, applying immense pressure to her throat to try and stop the rampant bleeding.

Please…..help….

The inbred-looking fuck collapses to her hands and knees in front of Nickle Eyes, who is now standing tall and proud.

Who the fuck are you?

Stag..nant……Wat…ers….

The woman tries to get the words out the best she can with her fucked up throat, and Nickle Eyes seems to register them as he nods in response. The bastard gestures to all the corpses on the ground.

Is this your fine craftsmanship?

It was…..THOSE BASTARDS…who…..di..d……this…

Nickle Eyes cocks his head curiously to the side as he raises a brow.

Oh shit….I don’t think I want to run into them anytime soon. Which way were they headed?

The woman releases one of her hands from her throat as she points towards the west.

They went…..THAT way….to Hagan…

Ah shit….that’s the direction I was headed. Welp, I better unstrap my holster just in case.

Nickle Eyes takes the strap off his holster expectantly, as if some bastards could be out to get him at any moment.

Please…..help..me….it hurts….so bad.

Nickle Eyes looks down at the bleeding woman on her knees and almost feels a twinge of sympathy for her.

Almost.

Sure thing, sweetheart.

Nickle Eyes approaches the woman, who reaches out to him in desperation. He grabs a hold of her mangy scalp before forcing her to look him in the eyes. That’s when he pulls out the bowie knife on his waistband and drives it right into the festering gunshot wound on her neck. The woman goes to scream, but her vocal cords have been cut, so nothing comes out of her mouth except blood! Nickle Eyes takes his blade out and then begins repeatedly stabbing her in the neck and the chest until she finally collapses to the ground, as dead as the rest of the Waters gang.

Nickle Eyes turns back towards his pale white bronco, wiping the stagnant blood of the Waters woman off his knife and onto his pant leg before he hops up into the saddle and rides off once more.


~~~~~


We see Bobby Bourbon at a Golden Corral.

Hey, fuckers! That’s right, It’s Bobby Bourbon, Top Fifty XWF Star, and Top Fifty Golden Corral Star. I know I set the trend of being a stereo champ and everything, and well, Jeff Foxworthy was too expensive to continue doing this shit, with me and my crew…

In the background we see TK and Charlie at a table chowing down.

We have no actual fucking scruples and they offered us a meal. Every meal! That’s right, Golden Corral, the Bastard’s choice. Personally, I love their breakfast, because I can eat my weight in scrambled eggs and bacon, plus all their wonderful non-Keto options like waffles, pancakes, AND french toast. Plus, all the soft-serve ice cream you could hope for at seven AM.

Bobby walks along the buffet line, scoops some scrambled eggs out of the chafing dish with the serving spoon, and slaps it into his mouth. He keeps speaking with his mouth full, spewing egg hither dither.

That’s some good shit right there! Now, Charlie…

Charlie looks up and waves.

Hi!

Charlie loves what Golden Corral has to offer at lunchtime! The Steakburger Bar is incredible, who doesn’t want all the cheeseburgers they can eat? Not only that, but you also get all the soft-serve ice cream you can eat, and at noon, who isn’t downing a gallon of the shit?

Bobby walks over to the soft-serve dispenser and pulls it wide open. Chocolate-vanilla swirl starts cascading down. Bobby didn’t grab a dish.

Brother Knuckles is a fan of the great, All–American Golden Corral dinner!

I like the Jenny potatoes, they’re scalped.

Jimmy runs in.

That’s scalloped.

Whatever, there’s no fucking hair on them!

Plus we can get awesome offerings, like all-you-can-eat chicken wings, their Featured Pork Entree, whatever the fuck it is but it’s delicious, Golden Delicious Shrimp straight from your fisherman’s freezer, and a carving station, and us Bastards know a thing or two about putting something on the slab and cutting it to ribbons; just ask Dolly Waters! Not only that, but you get all the soft-serve ice cream you want, enough for a diabetic coma if you’ve been there all day!

The soft-serve is actually piling up around Bobby as a massive chocolate-vanilla mess forms.

Golden Corral! Fuck it, just go eat there!


~~~~~





We catch up with the three members of BOB, chilling on the set of A Few Xbux More.

Let me start this out by asking, did you see their first promo?

A stern look adorns TK’s face.

Yeah, fucking Jimmy had me watch that train wreck.

Pointing off the screen at XWFs Standards and Practices team.

You fuckers are sitting here looking in on our shit, you should have been over-watching our opponents, for fucks sake. Dolly Waters should be fined out her damn ass for multiple things, but, hey, that's our lovable Kentucky trash, isn’t it? That gutter cunt couldn’t cut a real promo to save her life, always resorting to the lowest hanging fruit that can be offered at a discount price. She eats that shit up faster than a Mark Flynn conspiracy. If Dolly gave half the time she spent listening to Jim Ceadus 2.0 she’d have found out that the big Mark lied to her. Her uncle and Corey got a NO CONTEST against the Bastards. Not to mention the team of Charlie and yours truly, ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles, won at the Denzel Porter Super Show, brought to you by XWF, and the FIGHTNY blow-hards. Unless, Mark, isn’t counting that to fit his narrative.

TK shrugs nonchalantly.

Which is fair, it just means Mark doesn’t fucking deserve to face Kido for the Universal Championship.You know, considering a Super Show is how he won his right to be there in the first place. His logic, not mine. Their facts are as fickle as Dolly Waters' chances of beating ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles. That’s gotta sting, huh? A girl who has been in this business longer than the man she's been stalking for the chance to garner some clout.

Which man?

Pick one.

Me. A guy with a three-year career, mind you. Sit down, chick, the reason you can’t beat this handsome devil has nothing to do with the fact you can’t talk. It’s the fact you can’t perform in a fight. She can talk, sounds half-ass educated, but fights like a re-

TK rolls his eyes because the XWFs Standards and Practices team is glaring at him.

Reluctant rassler, remedially rehashing your same argument, slash, bitch. Rinse and fucking repeat.

That’s a lot of R words!

I know!

Christ, don’t you fuckers get tired of saying the same shit over and over again? Imagine saying, “Them No Good Bastards are afraid to fight the Midnight Dolls because TK kicked the shit out of me already”, talk about fucking moronic. I must have fucked up that bitch pretty bad if she’s still saying all that AFTER I kicked the shit out of her on Savage. Honestly though, what’s a goddamn Mark Flynn promo without talking about how he beat the Bastards all year long? I mean, fuck, the dude sounds like a broken record, doesn’t he? You have to wonder if that's the only reason why he’s relevant, after all, he did win his chance at the Universal Championship at a fucking Super Show, right?

A big sigh is given by TK.

Jenny Myst.

TK shakes his damn head.

All that load, shoot, reload, gun jargon is about as played out as well… Jenny Myst. The thing you forgot to tell XWF fans around the world is how you misfire every time you try to shoot. Bitch you’re as basic as PBS. Talk about a walking abortion, this bland bald bimbo got bounced by Bobby weeks ago. What was management thinking?

Clearing his throat to make himself sound more like the guy who books the shows TK continues.

Man, you know what would be a great idea?! How about, let's take the last two people that got beat down by the Bastards, and, I don’t know, team them with a guy who’s riding the fact he beat a Bastard! It’ll be great, then the Bastards will beat… our… number one contender… Why are we doing this again?

Nothing has made TK grin harder than the fact he’s going to pull the curtain back just a little bit.

I’ll tell you why they’re doing it because they know that even if Mark Flynn wins the Universal Championship. There isn’t anyone he can face. Noone worth a fuck… Except… You guessed it, US. Who else could there be?

Uh, War Criminal, the guy he was partnered with forever and then dumped, only to win a singles championship. Hasn’t anyone around here ever even watched wrestling?

Nope.

Good point but look around the hallways, ladies, and gentlemen. The talent level has dropped dramatically. They’re probably going to have to end up signing worthless rasslers like the XWFs version of Chris Angel, Chris Chaos, back just to fill out the goddamn roster.

TK gives the signal to Bobby by giving the middle finger to the camera.

Well, for starters, Jenny, do your team a favor and just be quiet. I don’t know why you think we’d be running for our loves but, well, I don’t even know what that means because I don’t speak stupid. Also, what the hell were you doing throughout your promo? Yo, producer Todd, run that footage.

Quote:The Bastards are running for their lives.

Jenny scratches her completely hairless scalp.

Cock. Shoot. Cock. Shoot.

Jenny picks something off of her noggin, completely devoid of hair, and eats it.

Load more ammo and shoot again.

Jenny rips a massive fart.

The Bastards want to shoot, its kinda their thing. Their problem is, they don't expect return fire.

Bobby shakes his head in shame that he shares a career with Myst.

Jenny, that was just gross. I mean, I could barely pay attention to what all was said because I needed to practice deep breathing exercises to keep from dry heaving. Now I don’t entirely know why you don’t think any of us expect return fire and whatnot, throughout your career I’ve taken your best shot in stride on average a couple of times a year, and if you don’t remember it, pop-gun, that last time you came out and started blasting you left looking like Patrick Stewart. Between that verbal garbage, thinking Kevlar can be made of felt, and nobody knows what the fuck an Alfa Romero is, pretty sure I Bobbybombed someone through an Alfa Romeo one time though. Mark, Mark, I get you’re used to exercising more creative control over what comes out of the mouth of your partner…

Bobby winks at the camera.

Maybe now’s the time to flex that a bit? Maybe instead of getting a Russian to be your hapless stooge in your promos, just use Jenny, she’s adept enough at it. As for bringing up your ex, Chris, I’m not jealous of him, but you are right about one thing; they’re in the XWF Top Fifty. Two spots behind me.

Bobby flashes a grin.

As for the Golden Corral Top Fifty, I’m pretty sure I’m way up there, any place I can get all the chocolate fondue and fried chicken I will utterly fucking dominate. You, well, aren’t in the Top Fifty of anything. Now, Jenny, you aughta respect what Charlie can do in that ring, like actually hold the TV Title longer than a month, and make no bones about it, we all know what you’re capable of in that ring. You have done something in an XWF ring that no other competitor in this match has, and that would be getting a haircut.

Twice. That’s De’Most of any of us!

Now, speaking of Flynn’s stooges, there’s Dolly. Dolly, you absolute re…

Bobby looks at the Standards and Practices squad on the sidelines. They’re sweating bullets. Since when does Bourbon have a filter? Bobby rolls his eyes.

You absolute ridiculous little waste of afterbirth. What is it with you and the word “whiners”. We were whining before, we’ll be whining in twenty-twenty-five, howsabout you quit plagiarizing yourself ad nauseam and come up with some new material instead saying “whining” every ten seconds while pulling poop out of Pampers while you scramble to seem relevant? I mean, you pointed out for us, and the world, every precise little tidbit about The Brotherhood of Bastards that makes us relevant without once explaining why you should be in the ring with us other than, you guessed it, you whined that we still flew first class while classless. Big fucking whoop from an even bigger underachiever, and really, mocking our fans using the R-word, in two-thousand and twenty-two, regardless of the fact you got censored for using it is what makes you edgy? Once again, it’s a good thing we’re around to show you how to get a fucking, and here’s an R word you don’t get a lot of, but to get a fucking reaction. Fuck that, you’re just a coat-tail riding bitch. Thad isn’t around for you to cling to; last I checked he’s gone borderline Bastard with Charlie in some Other Company’s Wrestling. I don’t smell Corey Smith, who smells like grumpiness and cheese by the way, anywhere in the building. You’ve stooped to picking Vita to pull you along to the promised land, and at Warfare, you’re hoping that Mark Flynn will be the one tugging on your little Radio Flyer because once you’ve hitched your wagon to anyone, you’ve just proven how much you’re worth to yourself, and that’s someone else’s baggage. Again, Mark, that creative control over what your partner says would serve you a lot better now than ever.

Bobby gives a thumbs up and winks. TK lips the words “it’s true” at the camera, while Charlie grins at the thought of Mark making such a critical error.

As for Mark, which I get it now, homeboy is just a huge fan of himself, he sure didn’t do himself many favors. I mean, I get it, we lost a handful of matches against you and your former partner, but shit, how many times did you beat us without Nor’Kriminal around to save your ass? Well, good thing you got him out of the equation, that one thing stopping us from stomping you, and now you’re relying on Cueball Myst, who went from being a dumb blonde bimbo to just dumb bimbo, and Dolly Waters, who has as much fresh material as the bottom of a chemical toilet, and even echoing them in some ways? Yikes, I get you’ve had a great year riding along on a Korean man’s dick like it was Magic fucking Mountain, but to insist we’re losers, well, uh, as strong as you’ve looked this year, and I confess, looked, not been necessarily, you didn’t really look all that great in handing Kido a briefcase, which he didn’t even need, and what the fuck have you accomplished besides pulling Jenny Myst to a victory? I mean, you’re sure not the Television Champ, like I am or Charlie was in true XWF Top Fifty fashion. I even pinned Kido, something I’m sure you’ll balk at since I did it and us Bastards are just too spicy to be palatable for you, just like how you burn your mouth on soft-serve. Oh, show some fucking respect to your King while you’re at it; I don’t really remember you having the balls to enter March Madness, but go ahead and ask Jenny “Jason Statham” Myst about what happened to everybody in that tourney anyhow. Yeesh, you really did yourself a bother, thinking Criminal wasn’t good enough, so you went after the one consistent turd I keep seeing in the toilet that won’t flush, Jenny “Thought I was Gucci but now I look like Stanley Tucci” Myst.

Bobby smirks as TK pats him on the shoulder.

Jenny’s bald and she forgot.

Jenny said I lost to Mark Flynn more times than she can count…god damn, I guess that bald-headed bitch can’t count to three.

No wonder she can’t win a match when it matters.

Did she say she had the match of the year with Ray Ray? Was it the first match when he wiped the floor with her, or the second match when he was quitting the company because he had no spine?

Probably the second, she’s conceited as fuck and she won that one.

Jenny didn’t win their second match, Ray Ray just lost it! Like he lost over half of his matches in OCW! That half-brained Nelson never should have touched this bad mamma jamma, he was never qualified to handle this much BBW.

Charlie Nickles smacks Bobby’s TV belt like he’s smacking the ass of a high-class whore that all the Bastards have ran through, twice over. It looks like Charlie just can’t treat any of his exes with respect.

Wait, Goldi’s a BBW?

You’re god damn right! This TV championship is a BEAUTIFUL BELT of WRASSLIN’! I thought Jenny Myst deserved the keys to Goldi’s kingdom because I was high off my ass, and honest to God, that bald bitch sucks a mean cock. But then she went and lost the shit right away! Fucking Christ, that bitch’s fifteen minutes of title-time made my legendary reign look EVEN MORE legendary.

Come on Charlie, you’d never let that disease-ridden meat clown near your nicklestick. You hate bald chicks! You told me they all look like lesbians to you!

Yeah, so why the hell did you ever give her the TV title anyways?

Because I thought giving the belt to Jenny Myst would make my reign look even more legendary in comparison….

So you passed the title on to Jenny with hopes she would shit the bed and you'd look better?

Exactly.

God damn, Charlie, you had an idea that actually worked for once!

I know, right? I bet that bald headed bitch is going to come to the microphone next week and cut another promo while she stands there doing nothing, like a deer caught in the headlights, just knowing that it’s about to be run the fuck over.

Shit, I don’t know why Mark Flynn is running around jabbin’ at the jaw, calling me some kind of liar when Jenny Myst is standing right there saying she was a better TV champ than any fuckin’ Bastard! Yet Mark Flynn’s still bitching and whining that I’m in the XWF, that I’m still the King of Twitter, that I’m still the baddest motherfucker to ever lace up a pair of boots…..even though Mark Flynn beat me in our little ‘retirement’ match.

Charlie clears his throat.

So what’s the problem? Why is ol’ Chucklefucks still running around, spewing his venom and calling his shots?


Squinting his eyes, Charlie's face becomes deadly serious.

BECAUSE MARK FLYNN DIDN’T DO HIS FUCKING JOB!

Without losing the serious look on his face he continues.

I told that snot nosed prick that if he beat me on Savage, he had my full bodily consent to end me, right then and there, chainsaw or machete it was on him to figure out the bloody details. But he didn’t fucking do it- and now we all have to suffer. I have to suffer through more of this monotony, more of this drudgery, more of this same ol’-same ol', more of this everyday nuisance we like to call life. And you folks? You all have to suffer through ME, one broken soul at a time.

Charlie closes his eyes, grits his teeth, and takes a deep breath before opening his mouth again.

Every time that Flynn mentions my ‘retirement’, he just reminds people of his own failures, of his own faulty word. Mark Flynn just had to do to me inside an XWF ring what I have done to Dallas Marshall, Lynx, and Cage Coleman- oh, you don’t remember those names? WELL NO SHIT! You’ve never heard of them because I ended their fucking careers, I broke their fucking necks, and now they’re pushing up dust bunnies in the trashbin of history! If I had won that match on Savage and had Mark Flynn just laying there in defeat…..I’d have shoved my thumbtacks through his eyes and my sledgehammer through his fucking heart! And I wouldn’t have been charged with SHIT- because this is all just sports entertainment, and Flynn already consented to it.

TK’s shaking his head “no” but knows Charlie believes what he wants to believe.

That’s definitely not how that works, Charlie.

I’m just saying if Mark Flynn wanted me out of this company so bad all he had to do was put me out- but he didn’t have the fucking guts to finish the job. But shit, not everyone is cut out to be a trigger man! Taking the life of another man can weigh on you like a ton of bricks- and when you’ve taken as many lives as I have, you end up buying an RV and driving it from show to show, to store all those skeletons, because who the fuck needs a closet?!

Charlie scratches his beard, knocking a few hidden popcorn kernels loose as he does so.

Hell, I took a part-time gig in OCW and I’ve already sent a handful of those indy darlings to their fucking graves! AND NOT EVEN THE ONES YOU’RE THINKING OF! I broke Justin York’s fucking neck in the middle of an OCdub’ wrasslin ring (you’re welcome Dolly) and I turned some other prick’s championship reign to ash, all in the span of a week. I have put the fear of the X-W-F into the heart and soul of the OCW roster, and I’m bitching out all their top guys because I’m showing OCW what real top stars, from real federations, can do! Teekz’ bout had that shit on lock at the Margarita Mix, but of course, Dolly fucking Waters had to fuck it all up. The stupid bitch can’t even break up a pin, and Mark Flynn picked her to try and hit a lick on the Bastards?

The wildness in Charlie's eyes twinkles in the light as he continues.

The only reason I ever signed a contract with OCW was because Dolly Waters embarrassed the entire XWF there, full fucking stop. We know the talent in OCW is lesser, because shit, Dolly Waters was able to win the Margarita Mix last year! But she couldn’t bring the bag back home this year, she let us all down. And now we have to watch her turn around and try to blame Ol’ Tee-Kay for her own regression… It’s the classic bush league approach, but how could you expect anything different from Dolly Waters? We know that Jenny’s the only shaved blonde over there, and that means Dolly MUST be the one rocking a full bush!

Charlie takes his hands and simulates a giant fluffy bush around his crotch, mocking Dolly Waters.

Dolly fucking Waters….Teekz, I think you might have knocked her noggin’ around too much on Savage, cause that bitch is talking all types of nonsense now! This concussed cunt hopped on a microphone and really said that SHE was headlining Relentless! God damn someone better let Mark Flynn know that Dolly took his spot, maybe she should let her TEAM CAPTAIN know that she’s bouncing him out of the main event! I bet that’ll do wonders for their team chemistry!

Nah Charlie, she ain’t headlining Relentless against Kido. We already have the contract, she’s just going against the Bastards for tag gold!

Wait…so this blonde bitch isn’t even fighting for the uni, OR in the main event of night three?

Nope.

She thinks she’s ‘headlining’ Relentless alongside John fucking Black in a squash match against You No Good Bastards? That bitch really might have a concussion! I was just doing a bit but god damn if this evidence ain’t addin’ up. But hell, who could blame Dolly for having some mental problems after all TNGB has put her through? Savage post-match attacks on Warfare, vicious warfare in your match on Savage, not giving her those ‘special words’ she wants to hear so much, just because she wants to hear them! You fucking pricks have really earned that ‘Bastard’ moniker, eh?

Remembering what else Dolly said makes Charlie roll his eyes in discontent.

I mean fuck, this delusional bitch is out here imagining entire conversations now! She said that I was kissing D’Ville’s ass, that I told that piece of shit ‘I’ll happily lose to him a gabillion times’, or whatever the hell. Pfffffffffffffft, does anyone believe that? Dolly, please pull up a receipt on that. I’d say I’ll wait for your proof, but then I’d be waiting for-fucking-ever, 'cause that shit never happened! You know Dolly Waters is FUCKED in this match when she thinks lying about Doc D’Ville is her best avenue of attack! Who fucking cares about Doc D’Ville in 2022- didn’t he lose everything in 2021 against ALIAS? You know, that same ALIAS who could never put The Nicklmean in the ground! The way Dolly is talking, she acts like Doc is going to come out of retirement and win this trios match for her!

Charlie waves away Dolly’s foolishness with a dismissive gesture of the hand, like a soft pimp slap through the air.

Did Mark Flynn even believe that bullshit bologna sandwich she vomited out on his airwaves?!?! I’m surprised he didn’t fact-check the bitch right then and there, but shit, Flynn’s production value will never be able to compete with the Bastards. Because if he could compete with us in this field, he’d know better than to air Dolly’s drugged-out delusions as part of the promo package!

Shit, it’s just professional courtesy to try and make your teammates look good. In a six-man tag match, it’s your job to fix your partner’s mistakes and cover their ass- but god damn, Mark’s motley crue is letting Dolly Waters walk out here and expose herself for all to see! You should’ve covered for her, Marky Mark, before you let her spew all this VERIFIABLY FALSE garbage!

The Nickleman rolls his eyes in disbelief at Mark Flynn’s shockingly low production value.

But wait, Charlie, don’t we air your drugged-out delusions all the time?

You’re goddamned right we do, but when I shoot up the hard stuff I hop on my Indian Panhead and make legends shit themselves! When Dolly shoots up the hard stuff she just stands in front of a camera and fucking nods off.

Oh, yeah, I remember when you were off shooting that motorcycle footage. When you finally finished that series your arms had so many track marks on them that they looked like a goddamn NASCAR track!

God, I hate NASCAR. It’s always the same movements and motions, it’s like watching Mark Flynn cut a fucking promo! ‘Bastards this, Bastards that’, holy hell, if I charged this guy a nickel every time he tried to sell his merchandise off of our name value, I’d be as rich as Ozzy fucking Oswald! Then we’d have two Bastard billionaires, and we wouldn’t have to sell anything for anyone ever again!

Charlie gets a big smile as he looks up in the sky, dreaming of all the possibilities that could be.

I don’t know Charlie, I heard Mark Flynn isn’t the kind of guy who pays off his debts. I read on Twitter the other day that he still owes NKWC a boatload of money for carrying him through their tag-team title reign!

Well then, his trio is seriously fucked, just on the level of teamwork and communication. That blonde bitch is walking around spewing disinformation, that bald bitch is a complete aberration, fuck, these bitches are so useless they’re going to be the cause for Flynn’s coming incapacitation! We already know Dolly is too stupid to break up pins in tag matches, Jenny Myst is so selfish she just might break up her own teammate’s pin, and Mark Flynn’s ego is so fucking inflated he somehow thought he could drag these bimbos over the finish line!

Mark Flynn’s supposed to be a smart guy, a genius wrestler. So why’d he sign up for an obvious loss in the send-off Warfare before Relentless? The XWF went to Vegas recently, and I guess Mark Flynn must have picked up a bad gambling habit while we were there. These days he’s doubling down on a pair of 4s HE CHOSE, and like any D-Gen I bet you he goes all in with them even after that first flop they dropped. This shit ain’t gonna turn around for him, on Wednesday night we’re going to knock his ass out on East Katella Avenue before we toss his sorry ass into the river!

When you think about a no-rules street fight the first thing you think of is the Bastards. Not only are we the cruelest fucking assholes this company has ever seen. We’re the most sought-after Tag Team act in all professional rasslin’. With a schedule that's un-fucking-rivaled. Goto Relentless, win the XWF Tag Team Championships; head over to IIW to win their Tag Tournament, hopefully, make a pit stop in OCW, and who knows maybe we just end up on WGWFs show to smack around their Tag Team Champions once they’re crowned. After we walk these dogs on Wednesday Night Warfare we’ll send them over to Kerran Overweight’s place so they can get straight fucked like the poor pooches they are. They’ll be lucky if we don’t beat their asses all the way down to the Santa-Ana River Trail and drown them in their own blood. This isn’t just going to be a wash. Nah, we’re going to take pride in slowly beating down Mark Flynn like a red-headed stepchild. Any man who loses his Tag Team Championships to the likes of Jim Ceadus and Robert Main never deserved to be a champion in the first goddamn place. We’d have sent them packing faster than my words flowed out of Mark Flynn's mouth in their rematch. Hell, even your partner in this upcoming six-man gave me the credit for ending Robert Main, not you. Now, that’s sad, you know you could have stepped in and corrected her, for fucks sake, you were standing right there.

Come on you know they green-screened their promo.

Either that or they were sent in via satellite.

Goddamn, guys, you’re right! No one works together better than the Bastards.

Turning around showing his back to the camera, Charlie steps up to go in.

You know boys, I’m getting kind of tired of just standing around here doing a whole lotta’ nothing…why don’t we do something exciting, why don’t we do something to get the blood pumping through our carotid veins?

Charlie, I swear to the Bastardly Father if you try to spend all of our money on more cheap hookers and blow…

For real, Charlie, we can afford the high-class escorts.

What? No, we can’t buy fucking hoors’ right now boys, I’m talking about doing some blow and running some LAPS!

Bobby and TK look over to Charlie, then to each other, before they shrug and nod. Charlie pulls out a baggy and a nose shovel from his pocket. The screen suddenly cuts to black as we hear three sniffs coming from off camera.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YEAAAAAAAHHHH!

It’s still not as good as Amber Heard dealers shit.

WWWWHIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEWWWW DDIIIIOOOOGGGEEEEE!

The camera suddenly flips back on and we see Charlie, Bobby, and TK running down a random stretch of rural highway. TK has a small buildup of white stuff around one of his nostrils, and Charlie’s entire nose is pretty much caked in cocaine. Bobby reaches over and wipes most of the powder off of The Nickleman’s face.

Come on, man, you know they’re right there.

Charlie’s eyes are as dilated as a vagina that's beginning to crown as he looks over at the Standards and Practices team.

Oh, god damn, Bobby, who gives a shit about them? WE’RE IN THE STREETS NOW, and that means ANYTHING goes! We can do whatever the fuck we want, to whoever the fuck we want, however the fuck we want, because in every city across America it’s US BASTARDS who run the fucking block. BOB has to buy the best fucking insurance in the world, because we’re liable to leave pussies soaking wet and covered in their own blood on every street corner!

Now open, BOBs street abortion clinic. Don’t tell the fuzz.

TK and Charlie still jog alongside each other as Bobby starts to slow half a step down. He looks between the two, a bit unsure if they’re really opening up an abortion clinic or not.

We leave crying babies shaken, not stirred. When we lay bitches down on that operating table, mothers start screaming when our blades get to cuttin’.

We won’t fuck up and leave you with a Jenny Myst. We promise to suck that fucker out and leave it for dead.

Just like Mark Flynn did to his tag team partner after I embarrassed him on Warfare! He can blame it on Theo all he wants, at the end of the day, we all know Flynn’s wrong when he says that North Korean War Criminal fell, because that yellow-belly sonofabitch was DEVIL HOOK DROPPED out of the tag division!

Charlie finishes up and displays with a mid-jog gesture that the floor is now Bobby’s.

It goes without saying, there isn’t a street in the world you want to run into us Bastards; hell our opponents spent time and effort just going to show that. We’re awful, no good, horrible Bastards, damn proud of it, and the absolute best at it. Put us in a situation where there are no rules, though, and shit, the world’s our oyster all things considered. I can take a bottle, break it over Jenny’s unprotected, completely hairless scalp, stab the sharp end into Dolly who’ll be fine, she has no substance anyway, then pick up the shards and force feed ‘em to Mark, then look at the referee. Who will just give me a thumbs up as the cameras in the arena zoom, out in the street, the bar next door, anywhere really, and the Bastards once again generate headlines and ratings.

TK dusts off Bobby’s shoulder while taking the lap, for him before he speaks up again.

Those three can blather on and on about how we haven’t done anything all year as a team. Good for them. When the chance came along we were shut down faster than Jenny Myst’s two title reigns. It makes no difference, we’re here now, and it’s time to flex the might of the Bastards. While these three try to mold we’re as strong as ever. Our accomplishments speak for themselves. Charlie Nickles fought for the Universal Championship more times this year than Dolly Waters changes her underwear. You don’t get that honor by doing nothing in the ring. Bobby Bourbon became the KING of XWF and Television Champion. I, my-goddamn-self, held the Xtreme Championship before losing it in a hospital. We don’t need the Tag Team Championships. No, we want the Tag Team Championships and we get what we fucking want. Charlie isn’t done, he’s going to work his ass off like he always does. Whether it’s the Super Continental Championship, the Xtreme Championship, Hell, or even the Universal Championship. He’ll reach his mountain top again. None of that matters right now, right now, what really matters is putting Jenny Myst, Dolly Waters, and that glorified midget Mark Flynn in their places. Mark can limp on into his Universal Championship match at Relentless, while Dolly gets beaten down yet again by the Bastards, who are totally scared of her and Vita-

TK slows his jogging to give his signature jerking-off hand gesture with some extra gusto. Then he begins jogging to catch up with the boys.

-on the grandest stage, Jenny Myst can fill up a spot somewhere on the card. Unfortunately for her, It’s the only card she holds. Honestly though, who gives a fuck what Jenny Myst will be doing at Relentless?

It won’t involve a comb.

The three Bastards complete their lap as TK and Bobby Bourbon give their now legendary no-look fist bump.

How the fuck do you guys do that?

The right way.

Where was I?

TK thinking he’s on the right track just starts spouting out words.

The difference between the last time I stepped into the ring with Mark Flynn and now is I'm feeling as fresh as coffee brewing in the morning.

Fresh as hash chocolate chip cookies in the oven.

Oh, fresh as popcorn at an expensive movie theater.

Fresh as pulling my mouth off a mother's nipple and getting that sweet sweet breast milk. FRESH, GODDAMN IT, FRESH! No shimmering buttholes, no defending titles at the same time, none of that. Just US and that Tiny Tunes team of yours, Mark. Us three Bastards are the darkness chasing your days down. When the clouds turn dark, we don’t mind at all, because we’ve battled through thousands of fucking storms. Only for our sails to catch the hot air that our opponents blow and take off.

Battled through storms? Tee-Kay, WE ARE THE STORM!

Charlie cracks his neck then his knuckles.

The Bastards are the unbearable winds that bring championship fortresses crumbling down, the Bastards are the lightning that always strikes thrice, the Bastards are the almighty earthquakes creating chasms and caverns every time we lift up our plates for more. Caedus fell. Granger fell. Lycana fell. Omega fell. War Criminal got dropped. Who’s next? Whoever management puts in front of us.

Charlie Nickles reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a half-smoked joint. He puts it between his lips before flicking a match and letting it catch fire. After the cig is lit he tosses the match to the ground and stomps out the flames before taking a big puff of the chronic smoke.

Come one, come all, watch as they all fall. The Bastards are looking for all the smoke, we’re ready to roll these bitches up and blaze’em down three by three or four by four, whoever wants a cut of the Bastard’s blade, we’re always looking for more! The ball will always be in our opponent’s court, because we’re the ones who always score.

Bobby, as a prophet of the Bastard On High, feels compelled by his yours, mine, and our Dastardly Lord.

Flat the fuck out, we have the sign of the Bastard on our side because our greatest fans already praise the fuck out of the Bastard, without them even fucking knowing. How many times can a man say they could see the side of those who oppose us, some simple men what hasn’t folded, men who don’t fold to bullshit presented to them as new news as fact automatically. I don’t mean literal men, but the fuckers who show their spine when called upon to step up and not let the bullshit slide. People who have beliefs, not just dreams, hopes, and desires, but will stand, defying anyone to cross the line. I get we cross lines, especially as a Bastard, and flat the fuck out, we don’t do it because anyone deserves pain, but because people deserve understanding! Because the say-so of one prick isn’t worth the hearts and minds of all. Because there are those who insist we can not learn since their way of doing shit goes down easier to a new generation than the true victory of bridging communication. Well, sometimes that communication gap can be filled. Other times, it will set to languish and fester where nobody dare tread. Nobody, save a Bastard. When the ultimatum has been put forth, well, that is where we come in. May our enemies curse our name, spit when they speak it, and shudder at it’s mention, they will remember us and the battle we fought, the line we drew, and our defiance, for it is the work of the Bastard to challenge, to defy, and rebel wherever we can so the annals of history may look back and realize the struggle. Thing is, while we set ourselves apart, while we ostracize ourselves among you, while we set out to pave new paths for those who never even believed in our ranks, we rejoice in the name of the Bastard that they may find, well, where we came from. We are, for lack of a better term, the most feared men in our business, yet we come back, time and again, to set standards, to perform to the best of our abilities, in ways our detractors could never dream to emulate. Brothers and sisters, give silence and pray, to the solemn who will play themselves the victim, to the irresponsible who give us the credence of making decisions on their behalf, to the souls who feel oppressed by the will of the weak, because while blessed are the meek who shall inherit the earth, be damned the weak who dare pull down others to feel power, a thing no Bastard has ever attempted. Blessed Bastard, be thy name, the path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the wickedry and tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who guides his brother through this valley of darkness, for he, or she, or they, we don’t care, it doesn’t take a gender to be a Bastard, is truly their brother’s keeper and a shepherd among men.

Bobby, TK, and Charlie all glare into the camera lens. Bobby cracks his neck. Charlie cracks his knuckles. TK cracks his shoulders.

And we will strike down, upon thee, with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy our brothers, and you will know our name is the Bastard when we lay our vengeance upon thee. Brothers and Sisters! Give solace, for the word of the Bastard cometh! Let us bow our heads.

TK bows his head feeling the Bastardly Spirit, Bobby follows his lead, as does Charlie but only after looking around making sure no one is going to jump them.

Preach, my brother, preach.

Bastardly Father, I ask You to show Dolly what a mental breakthrough would look like in her life. Help her realize her pursuit of victory is futile while she waits for a miracle. With our finisher, we will show her how to rest, right in the middle of the storm. Help us to enjoy the feast You have prepared for us on Warfare, right in the middle of the battlefield. I want the XWF fans to testify that there’s a Bastardly Father looking down on them. One who knows we're here to make sure our opponents don't make it home safely. Fill us with your fire and leave them in wonder as to Your might. We are determined to win this battle. Help Us to discern when to rest, when to feast, and how to actively engage our hatred, as we wait for You to show Dolly that mental breakthrough. May we display Your powerful death touch.

Charlie raises his hands in the air catching the rays of the Bastardly Father falling down on them.

For Your ways are crueler than their ways. Jenny Myst will feel your power, strength, and surrender to Your ways. This I trust in You, Lord Bastardly Father.

Bobby is shaking his head “yes” feeling the word of Bastard coursing through his veins.

Each day we revel in sin and temptation. Give us the strength to overcome grace with cruelty and love with disdain. Lord Bastard above, we will remind Mark Flynn of your will, with our actions on September 14th. That night We fight a physical battle in the streets of Anaheim but rage a much bigger spiritual war, with no act of compassion. We are building Your kingdom of merciless vengeance. In the Bastards name, We prey.

The Bastards, all three, lift their heads simultaneously.

A-fucking-men.

The promo comes to a close, as the scene slowly transitions to the BOB logo, before fading completely to black. Stay tuned for the conclusion. The Bad, the Bad, and the really fucking Bad.