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X-treme Wrestling Federation BOARDS »   » Archives » Bad Medicine RP Boards 2022
With My Crown Forged In Blood
Author Message
Bobby Bourbon Offline

XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

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

11-23-2022, 08:41 PM

Bobby is seen glancing down at his phone in front of a dilapidated old house.

It looks like it’s straight out of some horror movie.


Bobby smirks at his phone, then types away. His phone makes the same sound you hear at the beginning of every PornHub video. It strikes again, and a man walking his dog strolls by looking at Bobby with disgust.


It’s just my ringtone, and if you can identify it you’re not looking through the window, you’re on the couch and your shoes are off.

Bobby types back at his phone, the same silly smirk on his face. He takes a deep breath and looks up at the building. He slides the phone back into his jeans pocket and walks inside. The camera follows as the ambient daylight keeps everything visible in this darkened, moldy corpse of a house. Bobby stops at a door, and unlike the one at the front of the house, this one has a warning. It tells all that this property is condemned. Bobby shrugs half a shoulder and opens the door. Inside, the lights are on. Bobby steps into a staircase and descends into a basement. The lighting is bright, and maintained down here for some reason. Bobby sniffs the air, and looks around. At the far end of the basement he sees a door. He points at the door almost reflexively, his face looking excited, like he’s going to find candy in this extremely creepy basement. Bobby walks past a rusted out water heater and to the door, which is ajar. Bobby steps through, and his face instantly sours from a rush of some odor. Stairs lead down further, beyond the foundation of the house. Bobby slowly walks down, curious as to what is going on. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the screen and there’s no activity, and according to the top of his phone, no signal. He opens his messages, and checks again, seeing that indeed Bouncy said to come to this address and come downstairs. The waves of doubt and insecurity were washing over Bobby, until he hits the end of the stairs and sees what smells so bad. A pile of dead Elvis impersonators are stacked haplessly on top of one another. At this point, Bobby hears a roar. He immediately perks up, looking around the room, which is illuminated by a sole caged excavation light. Bobby walks toward the light, and as he does, a fully grown lion enters the chamber, and pounces at Bobby! With ungodly speed, Bobby picks up the light and thrusts it forward into the charging lion’s throat. Bobby recoils his arm as the beast inadvertently chomps down on an electric appliance. It’s howls an empty and hollow last howl, collapsing as it eats the current going through the lamp’s cord.

What the fuck!

I could ask the same thing!

Bouncy Brickhouse steps out from the same hall the lion came from earlier, holding a flashlight.

I paid good money for that lion!

Bobby looks at the lion then back at Bouncy.

I bet! Heck, I get ‘em second hand from the zoo and even then they’re like fifty grand.

Why are you buying lions?

To make them into zombies.

Oh, like a necromancer?

Bobby scoffs.

Nah, like Frankenstein. I buy them freshly dead. Now, pray tell…

Bobby starts to walk towards Bouncy.

What’s with baiting me here to kill me with a lion? Pissed about the fact I stepped on your toes?

Bouncy smirks back at Bobby.

Nah, I’m fine with it, and the lion was supposed to hunt down and kill the five Elvis impersonators running around down here, I already took care of the rest. I’m really sorry about the lion.

It’s, uh…

Bobby glances at the ground.

No harm no foul or anything. I mean, I’m sorry I killed it. What was it’s name?

I don’t fucking know, I got it like fifteen minutes ago.


Yeah, but, I mean, I still got these five Elvis impersonators down here, and you did kill it, and you looked so good when you were smashing that one Elvis at the restaurant who was breaking all the health codes.

Well, what happened to these dudes?

Bobby gestures towards the pile of dead Elvi.

Oh, hah.

Bouncy laughs.


Somewhere, there was an Elvis impersonator at an ATM. Bouncy Brickhouse approached him, smashed his face into the screen of the ATM itself, and then threw him to the ground. She stomped on the back of his neck, breaking it. There was an Elvis on the dock, eating an apple and fishing. Bouncy Brickhouse leapt out of the water and onto the dock, shocking the Elvis. She then took fishing line and strangled the Elvis, the line so fine and thin that it cut, and blood poured from the neck of the Elvis. Elsewhere, an Elvis seemed to be running in sheer terror, and from over a hill Bouncy Brickhouse crested, riding a steed, and in swinging a long sword she decapitated the Elvis. An Elvis was walking down the street, and without warning, a piano fell onto him. Shortly after, an Elvis fell to his death onto the destroyed piano. Bouncy looked down from the perch with another Elvis, bound and begging not to be thrown from the rooftop along with the piano and the other Elvis. She hurled him to the streets below. The Elvis who was in a restaurant when Bobby was given Bouncy’s phone number, well, he was in a dive bar, drowning his sorrows, spreading the word to all his lousy Elvis impersonator pals about Bobby. Bouncy grabbed the beer bottle from his hand, smashed it on the bar, and skinned Elvis’s face off with the jagged glass of the bottle itself as he screamed in agony. The rest of the bar, most of them Elvis impersonators, stood and prepared to run. Bouncy drove the broken bottle deep into the jugular of the freshly faceless Elvis, then pivots. She rushed towards the door, grabbing a thick glass cigar ashtray along the way. She brought the ashtray down on the skull of the closest Elvis, crushing his skull in just such a way that his eye kind of fell out. The two remaining Elvi looked at Bouncy, whimpering. She kicked one in the groin, dropping him, and grabbed the other by the throat. She led him through the bar to the pool table, and picked up the cue ball. She smashed it into the skull of the Elvis in her grasp, and then proceeded to shove the cue ball down his throat. Having dropped that Elvis, Bouncy returned to the Elvis she kicked in the dick, and picked him up. She dragged him to the old Wurlitzer jukebox and shoved his head in through the glass, then pressed a few buttons. The device ripped the face of the Elvis off and placed it on the turntable, and began to attempt to play it.


Bouncy looks very nonchalant having explained all that to Bobby. Bobby looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

That was fucking awesome.

Oh, it’s, you know, just what I do.

You’re a fucking badass!

Bouncy blushes.

I am not.

Okay, look, you can definitely go kill the shit out of those five other Elvis impersonators, I’m not stopping you.

Well, that’s the thing, I was going to have the lion do it, it would have been… oh nevermind.


Nothing, you’ll think it’s weird.

I’m weird, and I’ve seen weird try me.

Bouncy bites her lower lip.

I thought it would have been cool.

Bobby takes a deep breath and blinks slowly, looking at Bouncy in wonder.

It would have been fucking cool. Alrighty, you got your lion.

You have one?

What? No, I don’t bring my reanimated lion around with me, at least not until the fourth date.

Bouncy laughs. Bobby rolls looks extraordinarily pleased with himself that the joke worked, taking in a sharp exhilarating breath.

So, uh, do you have an armory or something or do you want me to go around killing these guys with my bare hands?

Wow, you sound eager!

Well I usually just beat the shit out of them so they can live in the shame of knowing I beat them.

Why would they be ashamed of losing to you?

Bobby’s eyes widen.

I don’t really know.


Bouncy gazes at Bobby.

Of course I have an armory, what kind of supervillain would I be if I didn’t?

Oh, shit, you’re a supervillain too? Me and my buddy TK trained a bunch of chimps to rob a train!

Bouncy laughs at this. Bobby goes with it.


Yeah. It didn’t go so great, I gave them enhanced intelligence and they just kept what they stole.

Well, no chimps. You’re a lion, remember?

Bobby half smirks as Bouncy looks at him. He looks at the floor, then back at her.

Uh, that armory…

Oh, yeah! This way!

Bouncy turns and leads Bobby down the hall. The dank and dark cavernous systems that had to be carved by hand form a straight passage here, which leads to two doors. The one on the left looks heavily secured with magnetic locks. On the right is where Bouncy enters. Both walk into a cozy little tea room where it looks like Bouncy was reading to pass the time.

This is a weird armory.

Just wait.

Bouncy approaches a statue of Ariadne and boops its nose. One of the walls of the tea room shifts and slides, like something from a spy movie. Past the false wall we see all manner of implements of destruction and death. Swords, chainsaws, blades, hammers, a medieval mace, a two by four, all on display.

Fucking nice.

Thank you.

Bobby walks up and picks up a massive two handed sword nearly his height. He eyes it.

Oh, are you going to Braveheart those Elvis impersonators?

Bobby rolls his eyes and grins.

No, jeeze. The halls around here are only four feet wide, no way I could swing this thing in here!

Bobby keeps perusing Bouncy’s armory, then stops dead. His gaze halts on one solitary object. Bobby reaches up and pulls down a yellow fiberglass fire axe. He looks at Bouncy with a smile.

This will work. How much time do I have?

What, to kill the Elvis impersonators? I mean, do it right, I don’t think we’re calling the Guiness Book to report the time for killing five Elvi.

Oh, no, how much time until I gotta go kill them?

What, do you need to stretch?


Bobby reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a bag.

I mean you have plenty of time, I’m not going anywhere. What are those?


What, like magic mushrooms?


You brought those on a date?

I mean, I bring these everywhere in case. If I’m going to go hunt down five Elvis impersonators like I’m Jason Voorhees in your basement, I might as well be tripping balls.


Alright, well, can I have like an hour?


Bouncy walks over to the statue of Ariadne and tugs it’s ear. A small wine refrigerator comes up from the floor. She reaches in and grabs a bottle of wine. She opens it and pours herself a glass. As she does, Bobby gobbles down a handful of psilocybin mushrooms.


His name was Maurice. He'd been a fan of Elvis since he was young. Earlier, Maurice was on his way to a used car dealership sales bonanza, as it were, when he was grabbed by Bouncy's henchmen. He'd been in this tunnel system for two hours, then another whole hour after. His last moment came when a fire axe was lodged into his shoulder blade, hearing a man giggling to himself about some girl with a face, then having his head torn clean off.

The next fellow was a veteran Elvis impersonator, was even impersonating him when the actual Elvis was alive. Leon was an old sport, meaner than hell with a taste for nothing but butter beans. Leon died of a massive cardiac arrest at the ripe old age of ninety-four when Bobby Bourbon walked up to him, wearing nothing but boxer briefs, covered head to toe with blood, and carrying an axe, and simply told him he was tripping too hard and thus Leon couldn't be real.

Our third departure was a man named Roland, who wasn't even an Elvis impersonator, he simply looked uncannily like Elvis and was on his way to get new jeans. He found himself, unfortunately, within the confines of Bouncy Brickhouse's murder dungeon maze. Thinking himself well hidden in the darkness, the spark of lighter ignition only revealed Bobby sparking a joint behind him, taking a deep drag, then saying something about ground control. Roland ran, which Roland aught not have. Roland tripped, and before he could get back up, the blade of an axe split his spinal column vertically on the opposite side of his navel.

Darrell Knotts had three children with his wife who would never see him again, not at least in one intact piece. Mr. Knotts enjoyed dressing as an Elvis and going out onto the streets at night doing kareoke. Oft regarded as a local character, Mr. Knotts maintained a line of boat repair shops. He was a hard working man. He was a self made man. He had his wig split by an axe being wielded by a drugged out maniac (Axe Mannix it was not.) As the man twitched at the end of his weapon, Bobby looked into his face and let him know he just went cyclops up the blappity, which meant nothing nor made any sense.

And finally, our last…


The Elvis impersonator runs for his life, calling out for help as he does. His palms run the walls of this near lightless hell, his heart pounding like a hammer on a kettle, his mind gripped with panic. He rounds a corner and enters the tea room. Bouncy looks up at him. He recoils in horror at the demoness that abducted him. She blinks her pretty eyes.

You! Let me out of here, you bitch!

Bouncy rolls her eyes.

Oh, I'm not keeping you here, not anymore. Frankenstein is running around out there.

The Elvis impersonator furrows his brow, and spits when he talks.

Do you think this is a joke?

No, but this is.

Bobby appears behind the Elvis impersonator, his third eye seeking blood. He leans into the Elvis's ear.

What do you call a guy named Mike wearing a trucker cap, a leather bomber jacket, and a tutu?

The Elvis impersonator, quaking in terror, barely replies.

I don't know?


Bouncy laughs. Bobby smirks. The Elvis impersonator looks mortified.

Please, just…


Bobby spins the Elvis impersonator around and swings his axe into his belly. On pulling his axe out, the Elvis's intestines splatter to the ground. Bobby reaches into the cavity, and instead of the heart like everyone was expecting and would be cool as fuck, pulls out a wishbone in the spirit of Thanksgiving! This Elvis was named Rodney, and not much was known about him.

Well, there's five. I think I saw…

Yeah there were like seven or eight I think.

Yeah not anymore.

I saw, impressive.

Guess that old guy was real, go figure. So, uh, what, is this for some snuff film, or something?

Oh, Jesus, no. Ick.

I know, right?

No, I just, well, it's how I relax.

Oh, okay. Well, that was fucking awesome, I had a blast. Are you hungry?

I could eat. Are you still tripping?

Yeah but I'm past the weird parts off it.


The broadcast begins, live, only on BastardNET, where we see Bobby at a podium prepared to give a statement.

People, I am here. Now, you might be thinking to yourself "look what the cat dragged in" but I assure you, this news isn't some proclamation for you, it's for me. I'm getting the reminder, because I return to the XWF after my time away, and it feels so good to be back. Now, a heads up if you haven't heard, I'm kind of wrestling three different matches on three different pay-per-views for three different companies, including this one, and hey, some think that means I'm not keeping my eye on the ball somewhere. Welp, I promise you, XWF Universe, with a pep in my step and a song in my heart, I am come, your King. When I open my mouth it's an entire firing squad, when I put hands on you it's the noose tightening, when I lift you up it's the electric chair warming up, and when you feel the Bobbybomb and your execution has climaxed, the people will look on and scream, knowing your sentence has been carried out and my rule is law.

Bobby slams his fist. He sneers devilishly at the camera.

Now for all I give a damn you may curse my name and spit it into the dirt, but there ain't a single soul denying that I earned my crown, forged in the blood of any idiot stupid enough to climb into my ring. I fought for my throne, build on the bones of those unworthy. I am become death, destroyer of worlds, and it's fun!

Bobby genuinely smiles.

So, Mastermind, what stories do you got to tell about me pray tell? Drinking American booze in your promo, you showed us the dancing baby from Ally McBeal, and sounded like you were already wounded. Don't you fret, Mastermind, I will wound you. There is a lack of saturation of my kinds of demonstration bring sheer devastation to the whole of all creation! Perhaps some calibration will correct the deviation of this existence and its sensation when I bring about its cessation. The war drums beat across all the Bastard nation, the king is back from his vacation, making the world tremble to his own vibration expanding his borders like they've experienced dilation. Don't call me a rapper, no, I'm a beat poet don't you know it you take it in with pure elation, I can get as low as a dollar and I stay high like inflation, Mastermind, make me a shirt, stop now like we're at the station, if you're a star, then by rights, I'm an entire fucking constellation.

Bobby takes a drink of water.

Thank you, that's all I have for now.

Bobby walks away from the podium.

[Image: gDnntnQ.png]
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