Post by Trey Vincent on Mar 31, 2009 14:49:42 GMT -5
Caption: Yesterday
[We open in Michelle's apartment. She's seated at her desk, busy typing away on her computer. After a few seconds of staring at the screen in silence, she grabs a bottle of beer and takes a sip. With a sigh, she pushes herself up and heads toward the kitchen. Before she can get there, though, there's a knock at the door. After a peephole check, she reluctantly opens the door.]
Trey Vincent: Hey, Michelle. Daddy's home!
Michelle: Hey, Buckethead. I had a feeling you were coming over today.
TV: Really? Why?
[Michelle turns around and points at the camera.]
TV: Oh, right.
[Trey pushes his way inside, then kicks the door shut. Trey is sporting so many bandages as a result of that Steve Studnuts bucket attack on iMPLOSION 18, it looks like he's wearing a white winter cap. Trey heads over to her couch and takes a seat.]
TV: Sure, I'll have a beer, thanks for asking.
Michelle: Kind of early, isn't it?
TV: But not for you? C'mon, Michelle. I can smell it all over you. It's quite sexy, actually. I'm totally turned on right now (he says rubbing his crotch).
Michelle: Fine! One beer coming up. Fuck, it's like 2005 all over again.
TV: Best days of your life, honey.
Michelle: No, that was 2006 when we were separated.
TV: *Ahem* You mean while I was in my COMA. *Ahem-hem-hem*
Michelle: What do I know? I'm drunk. So, what's up?
TV: I want Steve Studnuts banned from BOB.
Michelle: For how long?
TV: For EVER.
Michelle: Oh, come on. That was great television.
[Michelle returns from the kitchen with two bottles of beer – one for her, one for Trey.]
TV: How IS the Medium-Sized Bucket doing? Whore?
[Michelle sits down as far away on the couch as she can from Trey.]
Michelle: Oh, it's OK. It's in the body shop getting the dings out. It should make a full recovery.
TV: I'm so relieved. Speaking of, I need to take a hot shit.
[Trey hops up and runs to the bathroom.]
Michelle: Don't install any mini-cams while you're in there or I'll so sue you this time for invasion of privacy!
TV: Why do you think so little of me?!
Michelle: Because I know you?
[Trey shuts the door.]
Michelle: So, really, why are you over here?
TV: Aside from setting up the hidden camera?
Michelle: *Sigh* I knew it!
TV: I want to know why I didn't get a match for either of the next iMPLOSIONs.
Michelle: It wasn't in the cards, pardon the pun.
TV: I had that thing rigged so I would get the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS shot. Fuck SMP. Fuck Kobe. This is MY fed, and everybody knows it.
Michelle: You're not on the active roster.
TV: I am NOW. Seriously, what's with all this EOD stuff? They're getting booked stronger than the iAd! Job them!
Michelle: Blame the NCAA, not me.
TV: I will have my revenge on Death. But I'm really over here because I've come up with stipulations for the Gluttons for Punishment match. Since you're the head writer, I figured I'd share with you. First off, Trey Vincent is going to be one of the 32 participants.
Michelle: 32? I thought there were only 30?
TV: Please. That other fed does 30, so BOB's gotta get bigger. We do 32! Plus, that's how many chicks I banged in the last week. Would you believe it? 32 chicks.
Michelle: I find that hard to believe.
TV: Would you believe 30?
Michelle: No.
TV: Would you believe 10 hookers, an apple pie, and a Miss Piggy puppet?
Michelle: You are such a sleaze. I don't care WHAT you're doing with your tiny tiny penis. You know, I think Joanie Laurer has a bigger cock than you.
TV: Lies! All 10 hookers said my cock was the biggest cock they had ever seen.
Michelle: So, their syphilitic blindness had just cleared up earlier in the day then?
TV: You're a mean drunk, Michelle. Care to give me a blumpkin?
Michelle: Ewww! No!
TV: C'mon! For old time's sake.
Michelle: Fuck you, Trey.
TV: Last chance. And…it's gone. Your loss.
[The toilet flushes. Trey emerges.]
Michelle: Wash your hands! God.
TV: Since you called me God, OK. Look, I need to go over this for all the morons out in BOBland. I've come up with the stipulations for how all the titles will be decided at Gluttons for Punishment 2. So let's do this really quick.
TV: The winner of the rumble will become the number one contender for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS, most likely leading to a match at our as-yet-untitled September On-Demand show.
TV: Now, to win the Swiss Army Belt, whichever BOBster makes the most eliminations. Say, for example, Trey Vincent eliminates 20 people, and then some scrub like Steve Studnuts eliminates one person, because he sucks so badly, then Trey Vincent wins the Swiss Army Belt.
Michelle: OK.
TV: Now let's talk hardcore title. Are you fucking Death?
Michelle: WHAT?
TV: Is that why he's getting such a push?
Michelle: We're just friends!
TV: Uh-huh. OK. Hardcore title. The hardcore title will be hung above the ring. Make sure Flunky brings some six-feet ladders.
Michelle: Six feet? *Snort*
TV: What? They're cheaper.
Michelle: The Drunken Idiots will laugh you out the building. Use eight-feet ladders. Trust me.
TV: Whatever. So, whoever can climb up the ladder and grab the title during the rumble will win that title. And I know it won't be Studnuts. He's afraid of heights.
Michelle: OK.
TV: Next, the tag titles. There will be two "wild card" eliminations. What this means is that before the show, I will pick two numbers at random between 1-32. Whoever tosses out the person at the secret wild card time will win one of the titles, and then whoever tosses out the person at the other secret wild card time will win the other title. For example, if the Wild Card numbers are 1 and 2, whoever tosses the first person, lets say a jobber like Steve Studnuts, out of the match becomes a Tag Champ and whoever makes the second elimination, let's say XXXtreme Machine, is the other champ. And where the hell has XXXtreme Machine been lately? He still makes more sense than Studnuts. And his promos are way funnier.
Michelle: This is your definition of "really quick"?
TV: Now, one other piece of business. Since Vicky Jean got me all worked up, without a payoff, I've been super horny of late. I need The Great's phone number. His robot owes me a hand job. And, I definitely won't be aiming for no navel. Tits and face all the way! But I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, am I, Michelle?
Michelle: Is that it? Can you go now?
TV: God, you're looking sexy.
Michelle: Really?
TV: Wanna fuck? Come on, once for old time's sake.
[Trey sits down next to her and begins rubbing her thigh. Then her belly. Then her face.]
TV: I want you. I want you so bad.
[Static.]
[We open in Michelle's apartment. She's seated at her desk, busy typing away on her computer. After a few seconds of staring at the screen in silence, she grabs a bottle of beer and takes a sip. With a sigh, she pushes herself up and heads toward the kitchen. Before she can get there, though, there's a knock at the door. After a peephole check, she reluctantly opens the door.]
Trey Vincent: Hey, Michelle. Daddy's home!
Michelle: Hey, Buckethead. I had a feeling you were coming over today.
TV: Really? Why?
[Michelle turns around and points at the camera.]
TV: Oh, right.
[Trey pushes his way inside, then kicks the door shut. Trey is sporting so many bandages as a result of that Steve Studnuts bucket attack on iMPLOSION 18, it looks like he's wearing a white winter cap. Trey heads over to her couch and takes a seat.]
TV: Sure, I'll have a beer, thanks for asking.
Michelle: Kind of early, isn't it?
TV: But not for you? C'mon, Michelle. I can smell it all over you. It's quite sexy, actually. I'm totally turned on right now (he says rubbing his crotch).
Michelle: Fine! One beer coming up. Fuck, it's like 2005 all over again.
TV: Best days of your life, honey.
Michelle: No, that was 2006 when we were separated.
TV: *Ahem* You mean while I was in my COMA. *Ahem-hem-hem*
Michelle: What do I know? I'm drunk. So, what's up?
TV: I want Steve Studnuts banned from BOB.
Michelle: For how long?
TV: For EVER.
Michelle: Oh, come on. That was great television.
[Michelle returns from the kitchen with two bottles of beer – one for her, one for Trey.]
TV: How IS the Medium-Sized Bucket doing? Whore?
[Michelle sits down as far away on the couch as she can from Trey.]
Michelle: Oh, it's OK. It's in the body shop getting the dings out. It should make a full recovery.
TV: I'm so relieved. Speaking of, I need to take a hot shit.
[Trey hops up and runs to the bathroom.]
Michelle: Don't install any mini-cams while you're in there or I'll so sue you this time for invasion of privacy!
TV: Why do you think so little of me?!
Michelle: Because I know you?
[Trey shuts the door.]
Michelle: So, really, why are you over here?
TV: Aside from setting up the hidden camera?
Michelle: *Sigh* I knew it!
TV: I want to know why I didn't get a match for either of the next iMPLOSIONs.
Michelle: It wasn't in the cards, pardon the pun.
TV: I had that thing rigged so I would get the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS shot. Fuck SMP. Fuck Kobe. This is MY fed, and everybody knows it.
Michelle: You're not on the active roster.
TV: I am NOW. Seriously, what's with all this EOD stuff? They're getting booked stronger than the iAd! Job them!
Michelle: Blame the NCAA, not me.
TV: I will have my revenge on Death. But I'm really over here because I've come up with stipulations for the Gluttons for Punishment match. Since you're the head writer, I figured I'd share with you. First off, Trey Vincent is going to be one of the 32 participants.
Michelle: 32? I thought there were only 30?
TV: Please. That other fed does 30, so BOB's gotta get bigger. We do 32! Plus, that's how many chicks I banged in the last week. Would you believe it? 32 chicks.
Michelle: I find that hard to believe.
TV: Would you believe 30?
Michelle: No.
TV: Would you believe 10 hookers, an apple pie, and a Miss Piggy puppet?
Michelle: You are such a sleaze. I don't care WHAT you're doing with your tiny tiny penis. You know, I think Joanie Laurer has a bigger cock than you.
TV: Lies! All 10 hookers said my cock was the biggest cock they had ever seen.
Michelle: So, their syphilitic blindness had just cleared up earlier in the day then?
TV: You're a mean drunk, Michelle. Care to give me a blumpkin?
Michelle: Ewww! No!
TV: C'mon! For old time's sake.
Michelle: Fuck you, Trey.
TV: Last chance. And…it's gone. Your loss.
[The toilet flushes. Trey emerges.]
Michelle: Wash your hands! God.
TV: Since you called me God, OK. Look, I need to go over this for all the morons out in BOBland. I've come up with the stipulations for how all the titles will be decided at Gluttons for Punishment 2. So let's do this really quick.
TV: The winner of the rumble will become the number one contender for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS, most likely leading to a match at our as-yet-untitled September On-Demand show.
TV: Now, to win the Swiss Army Belt, whichever BOBster makes the most eliminations. Say, for example, Trey Vincent eliminates 20 people, and then some scrub like Steve Studnuts eliminates one person, because he sucks so badly, then Trey Vincent wins the Swiss Army Belt.
Michelle: OK.
TV: Now let's talk hardcore title. Are you fucking Death?
Michelle: WHAT?
TV: Is that why he's getting such a push?
Michelle: We're just friends!
TV: Uh-huh. OK. Hardcore title. The hardcore title will be hung above the ring. Make sure Flunky brings some six-feet ladders.
Michelle: Six feet? *Snort*
TV: What? They're cheaper.
Michelle: The Drunken Idiots will laugh you out the building. Use eight-feet ladders. Trust me.
TV: Whatever. So, whoever can climb up the ladder and grab the title during the rumble will win that title. And I know it won't be Studnuts. He's afraid of heights.
Michelle: OK.
TV: Next, the tag titles. There will be two "wild card" eliminations. What this means is that before the show, I will pick two numbers at random between 1-32. Whoever tosses out the person at the secret wild card time will win one of the titles, and then whoever tosses out the person at the other secret wild card time will win the other title. For example, if the Wild Card numbers are 1 and 2, whoever tosses the first person, lets say a jobber like Steve Studnuts, out of the match becomes a Tag Champ and whoever makes the second elimination, let's say XXXtreme Machine, is the other champ. And where the hell has XXXtreme Machine been lately? He still makes more sense than Studnuts. And his promos are way funnier.
Michelle: This is your definition of "really quick"?
TV: Now, one other piece of business. Since Vicky Jean got me all worked up, without a payoff, I've been super horny of late. I need The Great's phone number. His robot owes me a hand job. And, I definitely won't be aiming for no navel. Tits and face all the way! But I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, am I, Michelle?
Michelle: Is that it? Can you go now?
TV: God, you're looking sexy.
Michelle: Really?
TV: Wanna fuck? Come on, once for old time's sake.
[Trey sits down next to her and begins rubbing her thigh. Then her belly. Then her face.]
TV: I want you. I want you so bad.
[Static.]