Some dockside warehouse, because it’s a city, there’s a dock, with a warehouse some sap still pays rent on but doesn't use. Inside, the limousine with Bobby and B.o.B. D inside is seen. D exits along with Bobby, and the back door opens. The man inside looks furious.

“Do you know who I am? I will have both your jobs for this, do you understand me!”

The man points his cell phone at Bobby as he yells, to which Bobby snags the man's phone, and starts to fiddle with it as D holds the man back.

“I’m the guy digging through your contacts list right now, don’t talk about my job. Who’s Sandra?”

“Excuse me?”

“D, make him hurt.”

D slaps the man across the back of his head.

“You better listen to him!”

“Right. Listen to me. Once again.

“Who..”

“Is..”

“Sandra?”

“She’s my administrative assistant!”

“You’ve been sending her some really interesting pictures of her doing you some favors, which contact is your wife?”

“M-my what?”

“D.."

"..make the man hurt again.”

“N-no!”

D, remembering the times he'd been cheated on in the past, slams the man’s head particularly hard into the trunk of the limo. The Xtreme Champion holds his belt in front of the man's face, pointing at the X.

"You see this?! That doesn't stand for that Triple X shit you've been doin' with your secretary, it means I'm Xtreme as they come! Now, you WILL listen to Bobby; if you don't, I WILL break your fucking hands!!!"

"Holy fucking Christ."

Bobby can't hide his smile. His demeanor drops to nothing, neutral and cold as he addresses the hostage.

“Hey, if you don’t have hands I don’t know how you’re going to do this one again with Sandra. Who’s your wife?”

“Her name's Diane but in my contacts it's sugar bear.”

“Huh. You and Sugar bear, how many kids do you have?”

“F-four!”

“Four? Christ, you got enough money to feed a family of six and have a sidepiece? D, we caught us a white whale!”

B.O.B. D does a terrible impression of a whale that sounds more like the noises you imagine he makes in the bedroom as the man whimpers.

“W-what do you w-want? I want to get out of here alive, I’ll do whatever you want?”

“You don’t speak unless spoken to."

"D, make the man hurt so he learns we don’t speak unless spoken to.”

D opens the trunk of the limo. He grabs the man’s arm and plants his hand on the rim, below the lid. D slams it down, and the man howls in pain as his left hand is destroyed.

“No more questions, or you lose the other one!”

“Are we clear?”

“Y-yes!!”

“Good. Now, you have more money than you’ll ever need, and we don’t want to take that.”

“The Bastardly Father praises you for rewarding yourself.”

“The hook of it is, I saw a meme today and it said I had permission to do one bad thing.”

“The Bastardly Father smiles down upon those who like a good meme.”

“Really?”

Bobby half shrugs.

“I dunno, I make this shit up as I go along, TK is the one who came up with the Bastardly Father and I’m just hoping I get it right.”

“It’s cool so far, I mean, I’m doing the Bastardly Father’s work!”

“Right, D, we’re not evil. Ask Ned Kaye.”

“Nope. We aren’t murderers.”

The man whimpers.

“My friend here is right! We aren’t murderers! We don’t kill people in cold blood! We’re bloodthirsty mercenaries with a penchant for good-natured hijinx!”

“Yeah! I broke your hand out of good-natured hijinx!”

“D, you don’t have to repeat what I said, but I’m glad you’re excited.”

“Anyhow, back to you, Mr. Suit and side bitch.”

“You’re going to transfer all four of them kids’ college savings funds to us in an offshore account. Any trust funds they have. We’re not taking your hard earned money.”

“We’re taking your kids’ money.”

The man weeps. Bobby holds his phone out to him.

“I opened your banking app, you know what to do.”

“Otherwise Sugar bear is going to see what Sandra’s mouth does to you.”

“And your spankbank is worthless with two busted hands.”

“Make the smart call here.”

"The smart call would've been not cheating in the first place."

"Well put, D."

The man reluctantly swipes away at his phone screen. In a few moments, we hear the voice of Dolly Waters, Bobby’s current alert tone on his phone.

You have a message.

“Do you really have Dolly as your message tone?”

“She’s like a little sister to me, I saw it on the Play store.”

“That’s adorable.”

“I’m not evil!”

"Not at all! And we're gonna continue to not be evil with all of Mr. Suit's kids' money!"

Bobby and D both smile and look at the camera. Bobby checks his phone, nodding as he does.

“Well, congrats, you are now one step closer to shining in the path of the Bastardly Father. D, put him in a burlap sack and force him to drink a bottle of gin."

Bobby rolls his eyes.

“Not in that order.”

==

We see a man in overalls and a straw hat. He’s beaming, and looking directly at the camera, although awkwardly.

Howdy folks, I’m Homer Pigdickler.

The shot zooms out, and we see Homer is standing knee deep in pig shit.

Folks, it’s that special time of the year, and we here at Pigdickler Farms know what you want, because all across America, Autumn is sweeping the nation like a trend! That’s why we’re proud to present our very own pumpkin spice chitterlings. We know you pumpkinheads out there can’t hardly wait for that soothing blend of sweetness and spice that comes with pumpkin spice, and that’s why we force fed several dozen hogs nothing but for an entire month before slaughter, injecting that flavor directly into the intestines. They’re the perfect comfort food, just sit down in your favorite sweater, enjoy the crisp cool air around you, and chow down on chitterlings.

Homer’s morbidly obese wife drives into the scene on her Rascal scooter. She crashes into a trough and splats into the pile of pig shit Homer is standing proudly in.

My wife can’t get enough of it! Now, we also know for all you sports fans out there, it’s fantasy football time, when you and your friends all have a ball pretending to own three or four imaginary football teams. Personally, I don’t like pretending, it’s not one of my strong suits you see, but I deliver the realest quality in sweet meats for your Sunday Meet-ups where you pointlessly try to figure out the algorithms in play that score you points and why you’re losing to a cross-eyed gila monster that lucked out and drafted a guy who scored three-hundred points for getting turf toe! Well, that’s when you get a toe of your own, our pigs feet often carry the exact same spice dietary regimens that their innards get by walking around in it. Wings? Chips? Nachos? Yikes! All unhealthy compared to the delight of hosting your fantasy football parties with a smorgasbord of pigs feet and, only until November, eyeballs and ovaries, two for one!

Homer’s wife riches up from the pig poop holding an eyeball.

She’s a lucky woman! So, some of y’all are definitely wrestling fans, and we at Pigdickler Farms are excited to commemorate the success of XWF: Sound and Fury! After not only providing the world’s second largest burrito to Bobby Bourbon prior to his epic encounter with Hotdog, Mr. Bourbon was happy to deliver to us none other than an absolute delicacy, Hotdog’s testicle! Well, me and the misses absolutely went whole hog on that nut, but the second, we though we’d deliver to you! That’s right, we pureed the testicle and put it into our very own special fermenting process, and our first batch of pig testicle wine is arriving to your shelves as we speak! Squeal, the flavor sending sommeliers squealing!

==

We catch up with Bobby and D beside the road someplace outside of their limo. They open the trunk and retrieve a burlap sack that reeks of gin, and gently place it on the side of the road.

“Well, that’s that, I figure once he sobers up he’ll get out of that bag and get home somehow.”

“Smart.”

“Thank you. Smart of him to cooperate."

D smiles sadistically.

"Was it? I sent the pics to his wife, anyway."

Bobby's jaw drops before forming the same sinister smile as D.

"Well, he's still got the hand you didn't mess up, at least."

B.o.B. D grits his teeth, nodding his head 'no'.

"Woah, you broke his other hand? Was it before or after forcing him to drink all that gin?"

"During."

"Huh. If I wasn't so busy ordering us matching fur coats off of eBay with that dude's kids' money, I would have noticed! Well done, D. THAT'S what B.O.B. is all about."

"Fur coats?"

"TK always thought they were too froo-froo, but the PETA lunatics will buy tickets just to hate us."

D nods, picking up on Bobby's business accumen.

“So, Bobby, I was thinking, what was this meme you saw that you said the Bastardly Father sent you as a sign?”

“Oh, this.”

Bobby holds his phone up and shows D.



“Huh, I thought that would have been a lot darker, or more..”

“The Bastardly Father loves cute memes.”

“I see! Well, since I saw it, don’t I get to do something bad now?”

“Yes, yes you do! Wanna kick the guy we just kidnapped, broke both his hands, forced to get drunk, and then put into a large bag?”

“Not what I had in mind. Take us to church!”

Bobby’s brow furrows.

“Trust me on this one, partner!”

“Okay, but I’m warning you, if we’re going to accost the clergy that’s really pastiche, I think Miss Fury did that, or Graves.”

“Nope.”

D hustles to the front of the limo and slides across the hood like one of the Duke boys as Bobby gets into the driver’s seat. They drive a full thirty seconds before pulling into a parking lot for a Baptist church. Bobby parks and he and D step out, and head towards the doors.

“I think they’re having services, D, is that part of the plan?”

“Yes.”

Bobby and D enter the church as the preacher gives a sermon. He stops sermonizing and points toward Bobby and D.

“And see some of our brothers have come late! Please, let me stop so you can sit!”

The congregation all laugh at the expense of Bobby and D. Bobby rolls his eyes and whispers to D.

“Okay, I want to punch the clergy now.”

“Shh! C’mon!”

Bobby and D take their places in a pew as the preacher continues his sermon. Bobby whispers again to D.

“I’m not impressed, was your bad thing to make me feel really bored?”

“No, just wait for it!”

The preacher finishes sermonizing on whatever, and the choir kicks up. As it does, the collection plate is passed around. D sneers. Once the plate is in his hands, he pulls out his wallet.

“Donations to church? C’mon man, that’s not bad!”

D pulls two condoms from his wallet out and places them in the collection plate. Bobby’s demeanor completely shifts and he smiles. D smiles right back at Bobby.

“Well, damn, B.o.B. D letting me know the ‘D’ stands for ‘diabolical’!”

“Don't forget about Devil, Bobby, we are in a church, afterall!"

“Well, shit!”

Bobby pulls his wallet out.

“Heh, are you a Magnum guy?”

“Nah, I save my money.”

“Go raw dog.”

D snickers. Bobby produces a couple of Garbage Pail Kids cards from his wallet and puts them in the collection plate. Bobby then cocks an eyebrow, pulls a few bills out of the plate and pockets them.

“Um.."

“Do you always carry Garbage Pail Kids around?”

“Not anymore, I just sold them!”

Bobby smiles and nods as he passes the collection plate to a little old lady. She looks in the collection plate and has a heart attack immediately from what she sees. The whole church looks on in horror as Bobby and D shuffled out of the pew!

“She needs Jesus!”

“Don’t listen to him, she needs an actual doctor, Jesus was a carpenter!”

Bobby and D run out of the church, snickering as they do. They rush to their limo and speed off.

==

Gallagher. The most beloved American comedic genius of our times. For decades, he delighted fans with his wit, his blut tongue, and a big ass hammer smashing fruit while you enjoyed your drugs. Perhaps the most prolific hippie ever right behind Abby Hoffman. We lost a true legend and slice of Americana when he passed away too soon.

Until now.

“Grurrrrru”

The zombie of Gallagher shambles forward, dragging his telltale mallet. He stalks someone, unawares he’s they’re! They pick a cantaloupe from a big bin and inspect it, sniffing it and squeezing it! Zombie Gallagher strikes, grabbing the fruit from the grocery store shopper and placing it gently on the ground! Gallager smashes the fruit! The entire store erupts with laughter! I DON’T FUCKING KNOW WHY BUT THEY ERUPT WITH LAUGHTER AT THE GUY SMASHING FRUIT EVERY DAMN TIME.


Zombie Gallagher!













COMING TO ANARCHY!

==

"D, I'm in a mood."

"Yeah, I can tell; you kidnapped a guy and made him transfer his kids' college funds to an offshore account."

"D, what are you talking about? How many Make-A-Wishes have you done?"

"A lot."

"Right, same here. We were the bright and shining examples to children everywhere. We've been getting parents to cough up money because of their kids our entire careers, this was no different. Besides, we needed that money. That doofus literally got into the back of a stranger's car and doesn't even need that money, the little shits are destined for human trafficking to the third world. He deserved it, and like Ned said, I'm not evil so it must have been fucking righteous."

Bobby rolls his eyes as he says 'evil'. D scratches his head.

"Ned might have missed the mark there."

"Ned, miss Mark? They're like the fucking Odd Couple of the XWF, nothing alike but somehow always together."

"I meant he was inaccurate…….."

"I KNOW IT WAS A METAPHOR."

D shakes his head, considering the difference between simile and metaphor for a moment, but doesn't stop to correct Bobby.

"Hey, bro, you go ahead and vent."

"Vent? Oh, ohohohoho.”

“For starters, these fucking jagaloons. Absolute fucking monkeys, the both of them. I don't mean the cutesy way they contrast. I mean how fucking lame the both of them are.”

“You're right, D, I am pissed. I'm pissed that for some reason, Doc can't get it done against a clown like Flynn but had the wherewithal to get me after having the greatest match of all time because it took place across all fucking time."

Bobby’s eyes go wide, the eureka moment dawning on him.

"Interestingly enough, not just a human construct or cyclical! Yes! Fucking science! I'm going to get a Nobel Prize!"

"That’s the confidence I like……. Even if I didn't understand a word you said!"

Bobby and D exchange a fistbump.

"So how the fuck are either of those guys going to call my man here a mascot? You think D is here as some stunt? No sirree. D has grown, he has expanded, he has reached heights that even Doc couldn't.”

"That’s right!"

D pats his Xtreme Title.

"Looks like D pinned Mark Flynn for the Xtreme Championship!"

"Yep, AND it wasn't backstage, either! I did it inside the ring, with an actual ref!"

"Because that makes a difference, with thousands watching and all! So are you two fucking brain donors that convinced that one half of you losing your championship to the man is nothing?”

“I can't really disagree there, I took a title from Mark too, and as soon as he uses that briefcase, I'll fucking do it again like I was taking out the trash or emptying the dishwasher, basic ass chores so I can get back to living my best life.”

“So, congrats, Mark, Ned said it best, you were absolutely fucking nothing for D's career.”

“I was, though! More than Ned!"

"Atticus White did more for me than Ned, and that mother fucker tried to stifle my plans every chance he got!"

"Just to be clear, though, to those in the back, we're not talking about our past."

"We're talking about Mark's. Track records gonna track throughout the house."

"But, hey, painting Mark as an idiot is a shitting contest I want no part of, nobody makes Mark sound stupid as well as Mark can. I don't know what you had in Nashville that made you sound that way, did you have a case of the Justin Roiland Flu? Thing is, you made the ultimate proclamation, then and there, the only intelligent statement I have ever heard you make.”

“Bobby Bourbon.”

“Surefire first round Hall of Legends.”

“One of the all time greats.”

“Then you immediately resumed sounding like an absolute fucking dingbat."

"Dingbat?"

"That motherfucker hasn't earned better insults, D. You pinned him. I pinned him. Fuck an insult, let's just call a spade a spade and use the truth here.”

“Flynn is a loser.”

“According to him, I'm one of the best ever.”

“And that’s because I beat his ass and he doesn’t want it again.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He’s hoping Ned does some magic and stands right up and faces down some kinda Bobby at Warfare, he hates losing, and he hates the fact I did it because he doesn’t think I’m all that special, just big.”

“Yep.”

“Every single promo I have ever cut was just me being large.”

“I admit it.”

“I’m bigger than big, larger than life, baddest of the bad and a fucking outlaw gunslinger stepping in because I ride with a crew only as bad ass as me. You mocked BOB for having membership, listing people who’ve been with us over the years, proving we have a fucking dynasty, saying it’s a ripoff of CCPE?”

“I couldn’t name a member of CCPE worth a fuck. Not even Mark Flynn.”

“I will take Barney Green over Mark Flynn ten times out of ten. Barney Green knows how to get laid. He has animal magnetism and absolute charisma. He also frequents prostitutes. However, this isn’t just Barney, nah, this is a fine-tuned lethal combination of wrestling prowess and power coming to the ring, unified and of same mind, brining ruination to two goofballs who go together like plaid and pinstripes.”

"Plaid and pinstripes?"

"They don't match, man, go read GQ or something."

"He did beat War Criminal."

"In a match that nobody really gave two flying fucks about."

"Needed Ned's help, too!"

"It wasn't even a Tag Match! You know what, Ned, you’re just being self-righteous and thinking your own bullshit is a bar of gold. You took the help from King, you gave the help to Mark, damn, it’s almost like you’re trying, key word is trying to be the next B.O.B., the problem being you absolutely suck at it, and the real deal.."

Bobby points to himself and D.

"..gets results."

“Sure, call me out for the way I supposedly fucked up, but you never were there to make that error. Be the Monday morning quarterback for me.”

B.O.B. D tries thinking of more accomplishments of Flynn's, completely ignoring the one blatantly hanging over his shoulder.

"He beat Doc."

"Had to have been a fluke, just like how he was the one sperm out of a gangbang's worth of cum left in his mom's snatch by the entire varsity soccer team that figured out how to get into an egg.”

“Also, I have no disrespect for Doc, I definitely stepped in and stood up for Ned not too long ago to get a match with the man.”

“You’re welcome, Ned.”

“Biggest mistake I’ve made in 2023 was standing up for you.”

“Past that, if you want to see the old man on Warfare, I’m going to have to say his name with angst, he’s not walking out for either of you right now.”

“Back to Ned, and Jesus H. Christ, this guy is nothing but misery, misery, and more misery. He beats Part-Time Page in a match only he thinks is important, and that's not even good enough to somehow put a smile on his face.”

“Ned's an absolute sour puss."

"Woah, first 'dingbat' now 'sour puss', tell me this is leading somewhere."

"Ned Kaye tips his waiter extra to piss in his Cheerios so he can focus on how awful everything is. I heard all that bullshit you spewed about B.O.B., then Mark comparing it to CCPE, you want the fucking gospel according to the Bastardly Father on that?”

“Ned's still bitter that his pet projects crumbled. Do you remember the footnote relationship he had with Kido and Cashe? Ned was the martyr in all that too, according to him, because he needs your pity more than anyone's fucking respect, so now we get a petulant little shit projecting his own negative feels onto the group that left CCPE in the dust, and the only bloat in B.O.B. is the weight carried by real fucking men in the form of championship belts.”

“TK did us all proud winning the Universal Championship when not even a fucking year ago the both of you would have wrote him off.”

“I'm a former two timer, and hey, thanks for that Mark!"

"Yeah, thanks man!"

D holds up his Xtreme Championship.

"We have the current Xtreme Champion too! Instead of giving respect, instead of giving credit where it's due, Ned just needed to demonize us, because, well, how could someone be more successful than him when he's always toiling so hard?”

“Oh, yeah, he was busy helping someone else so his own misery is never his fault.”

“Give me a fucking break.”

“And shame on you, Ned. We took you out with us, you saw how B.O.B. operates, only for you to turn and be sullen, taking out your frustration over shooting blanks into your girl's worthless sewer for a womb on us.”

“Embrace self-awareness for once.”

“And Ned, dude, I know the solution to every fucking little problem you have! I didn't have to flex my extensive super-genius on it, barely half a synapse! It's easy, it's obvious, so I get why you didn't pick up on it.”

“Retire.”

“Go home, start that family, get a job in a cubicle someplace selling some bullshit, start taking Zoloft, buy yourself a nice home, get out while the getting is good, because for fuck’s sake, nobody is forcing you to have a wrestling career that is, even at its best, a complete conflict of interests for you.”

“Fuck, without myself, D, or Mark, what career would you even bring to this match?”

“Your insistence that we watch you suffer at your own fucking hand, Ned, is worse than anything I've ever done. Kids might fear me, loathe D, and hate BOB, but they look up to you and want to grow up to mope.”

“I'm kind of bored with whooping your ass all over the place already, I'm absolutely disgusted you can't take pride in accomplishments people only dream of, and I'm appalled you have to bring Mark Flynn to be the comic relief because your whole life makes people want to change the channel and watch something entertaining instead of some melancholy masochistic malarkey.”

“D!"

"Yes, Bobby?"

"Let’s beat these motherfuckers how they want it at Warfare. This ain't a massacre coming, it's a late term abortion for a couple of shitheads who would've done the world more favors if their mothers swallowed and shat them out.”

“We are the conquerors.”

"You are a fucking force to be reckoned with."

D smiles with delight. Bobby is complimenting him!

“The Xtreme B.O.B., and hear me fucking now!”

“The baddest motherfucker to come into the XWF that everybody slept on.”

“The only prick to pick without time to dick around.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, my tag team partner as we absolutely fucking WRECK Mark and Ned, two by two, just like I wrecked Ned, just like I wreck Mark, the fear in both mens eyes so telltale my mouth waters thinking I get to eat more hot dogs after I beat them up.”

“Now they best fear D.”

“Fuck a B.o.B. D.”

“We brought a fucking Dan into this shit, and if you’ve ever played Street Fighter, you know he’s in fact, a character!"

"Right!"

"Have you checked the Hall of Legends? I mean, as a member of B.O.B., it’s where you’re headed.”

"Um.."

"You’re the first Dan. No Dan, Danny, or Daniel ever. I think."

"Better than being the first Ned!"

"There'll never be a first Ned in the Hall of Legends."

"Hey, you never know! Someone more talented, and charismatic, could come along and make us forget about the current Ned!"

"We're more talented charismatic than the current Ned.”

“Dan is way more elegant.”

“Always. Ask any writer.”

Big D looks perplexed at this statement.

“I don’t write!”

“Well since you joined B.O.B. you have been poetry in motion.”

“Yeah, but what do we do when we win?”

“Celebrate. May we feel joy at the expense of those doomed to face us.”

“As much as a rapport I have with Mr. Flynn and Mr. Kaye..”

“I have every respect in ourselves to beat them.”

"D, we're going to crush these fools."

"I know, Bobby. What I want to know, though, is are they worried about our past and how we live in it while they just brought it up nonstop?"

"Nah, D, they brought up our history just because ours is cool. They pretend their future is clear cut."

"Fact is, we're the here and fucking now of what's happening."

"We're in B.O.B."

“Because you made it as a member of B.O.B. and they never could have. They’ll ride the next wave to whatever. We?"

"Are we not men?”

“Nay. We are Bastards. That’s why B.O.B. by D..”

Bobby swiftly shakes his head ‘no’.

“Nah, bro. We’re B.D.E. Didn't you hear Flynn?”

“B.D.E.? What does that mean?”

“It means the winning team at Warfare, that’s what.”

Bobby nods, shaking his head, and D claps his hand on his shoulder.