Post by Trey Vincent on May 2, 2009 15:20:01 GMT -5
[At a motel in Intercourse, Pennsylvania, Trey Vincent is busy typing away on a laptop computer, putting the finishing touches on Gluttons for Punishment 2 when there's a knock at the door. Trey sighs, but answers. Outside, is Ted Caldweller, BOB's PR dude.]
TV: 'Sup Calderwell?
Ted: It's Caldweller...some guy just handed this to me. It's must see.
TV: Is it? OK. Thanks.
Ted: Have you checked out EW Torch?
TV: Yep. Review our shit and I'll give you a fucking link, Benedict Judas. Nothing personal.
[Trey slams the door shut and heads over to his laptop. He shoves in a disc. After it loads, he sees the name Studnuts and the letters XWW.]
TV: The fuck?
[Now curious, he clicks play.]
~~~Steve Studnuts is seen lounging by a swimming pool, presumably the one in his backyard. He’s sprawled out on deck chair wearing nothing but tiny briefs, roasting himself in the Phoenix sun. He’s so oiled up his skin looks as though it’s made of tanned glass. He notices the cameraman he’s summoned for this bit and slowly rises from his prone position. Steve swings his legs off the side and sits up, already chuckling like a C+ student that just aced an exam via the help of Cliff’s notes. The camera rolls…~~~
Studs: Ya know, jerkweeds… earlier today I tuned into the XWW promo gimmick to see what kind of ruckus, if any, I caused the other day. Granted, I know most of these clowns are preparin’ for their little matches this Sunday and hid in their own insignificant corners of their pathetic existence.
However, there was one boner that decided to champion the cause against me and my all out verbal trashin’ of the locker room…in what this moron thinks was a blanket statement against the “so-called” elite. Heh.
~~~Steve reaches over and pours a brownish liquid from a stylish bottle into a handled mug filled with ice. The mug is already beaded with sweat, much like its handler. Steve takes a long drink from the glass and then quickly shakes the burn from his throat after he’s finished. ~~~
Studs: Let me tell you somethin’, “Shitman”. I hate to bruise your ego…well, actually I don’t. But when I enter a promotion and pick apart the roster page, I don’t start with the *ahem* “big dogs”… I’ve been around the block too long to do that. No, no, no… you see, there was barely any mention of Zeleos, what’s his name, that Gallo kid, and Mr. Whatever.
I start with what I consider the job boys. Sorry you felt otherwise…
~~~He takes another swig.~~~
Studs: Apparently, your opinion of you and my opinion of you differ…. Ya dig? Now you may THINK that you’re a player around here because why? Tompkins named you promo guy of the week? Whoopdee-fuckin-do… let’s give the lad a championship.
Do you think I tried to goad you into a match? You’re so easily manipulated! If I wanted a match with you, I’d have asked for it, stupid. I would’ve marched right into to Tompkins’ office and said:
“Hey, Tommy…can I call you Tommy? That knob gobbler Piss Jones, can I sports entertain with him next week and jerk a knot in his ass the size of Rhode Island?”
And he’d say…
“Well no, Steve…we have to build for that kind of match. We can give it to the fans right away!”
And I’d be like:
“But he called me “boyo”. He fuckin’ deserves me to stomp him into a thin, bloody paste.”
And he’d counter with something stupid like this:
“Steve, come on! You’ve been in the game a long time. You know better…”
And I’d fire back with this gem:
“But he said Socrates would “shake in his grave” by my language. Doesn’t he know Socrates invented the word “fuck”? Looks like SOMEBODY slept through Greek philosophy class. Heh. Come on, man… let me crush this bum. PUH-lease?”
And he’d say:
“Steve, as much as I want to see you beat the shit out of Chris Jones and make him eat it, I’m looking at the big picture here. I’m thinking about buy rates. I’m thinking about gate sales. I’m thinking about the security and safety of my performers, and I think you’re going to shoot on him and break his neck to the point his big ass will swing around on his neck like a swivel. I can't give that away for FREE, that's Pay Per View quality entertainment!”
~~~Steve pauses for a second…~~~
Studs: Well, he probably wouldn’t say it quite like THAT. *winks* But you get the idea. I was just wantin’ to find out who wanted to play and who wanted to ignore. Looks like you did both, ummm, “Hitman.” I'm not lookin' for matches, I looked at the "talent" here and offered an observation. Here's another one...
I find it funny that a guy that hopes he’s famous by using that same nick of a guy that was once famous, uh-rah, thinks he’s famous. And struts around here thinkin’ that the in-ring, fans cheerin’ promo style of 1998 is still cool. And says things like, “I’m impressed…not.” Yeah, that faded out about ‘94, son.
Who am I, you asked?
~~~Steve turns up the mug and finishes its contents.~~~
Studs: I’m Steve Studnuts…. and you’re not. But I know… you wish… you could be.
See ya soon, *ahem* "superstar".
TV: The FUCK?
~~~Steve Studnuts is still lounging by his swimming pool, the camera man was just about to leave when…~~~
Studs: Where the fuck are you goin’?
From behind the camera: I thought you were finished…
Studs: No. I’ll tell you when I’m finished, jerkweed…keep rollin.’
~~~Steve sits back down on his deck chair, we see that his mug is filled once again, but Steve ignores it.~~~
Studs: I wasn’t quite finished with Crissy. I’m packin’ my bags right after this and headin’ to KoX…because after watchin’ your promo, what I could stomach that is, you’re right. The fans deserve the best they can get. I’ll be lurkin’ in the buildin’, and maybe just the thought of me runnin’ down and knockin’ your fuckin’ block off will boost the pre-order. Ya dig?
What else have they got to look forward to? The Flash? The moron that made light of the size of my nuts? That’s funny… your girl didn’t seem to complain when they were bouncin’ off her chin.
Or what about The Nightmare? Pfft. Yeah, okay… whatever.
Eddie Munster? Nope. He couldn’t sell wool blankets to a goddamn Eskimo, what the hell is he gonna do to draw?
None of you guys have star power, which is why I came here. To save these fans from boring tirades and monotonous ramblin’s from clods like you and your cookie cutter promos, Chrissy.
Now I’ll admit, you have your place here. Every fed needs a goober that panders to people that still eat marshmallow cereal for breakfast and has their Mommy pick out their wardrobe for the day. “Fans” that still wear cartoon themed underwear.
And then there’s a guy like me, whose fans have their pubic hair already, have their driver’s license and can order alcohol legally… and sit at the cool kids table. Chicks with that full sweater, ya dig?
~~~Steve then takes another drink of his beverage.~~~
Studs: Keep drinkin’ your sodas and watchin’ those Mickey Mouse reruns. Glad hand the kiddies and pump those action figure purchases. I’ll still be here givin’ people that want to see somebody get KTFOed…
...get KTFOed.
I didn’t ASK for a match with you right away because I don’t want one right away. Looks like you’re in for a little push, and I wouldn’t want to throw that *ahem* locomotive off track my first week here.
But rest assured, jerkweed…your day is comin’. The children will cry I'm sure, it’ll be like the day Captain Kangaroo croaked. Or when they took “Barney” off prime time.
And one more thing…shorten your rants, Chrissy… less time for me to get sleepy as fuck and quit watchin’ before it’s over. Thanks, dude.
Camera man, you ready to leave?
From off camera: Sure.
Studs: Then disappear, scumbag. See ya tomorrow night, Piss… I’ll be the guy the whole arena will be cranin’ their neck to see in the rafters while you’re wrestling. Don’t take it personal… that’s how I roll.
~~~static~~~
TV: DA FUCK?
~~~Steve Studnuts is seen walking to a generic podium inside a generic ballroom. Some members of the “press” have gathered, or a reasonable facsimile of “press” have gathered. Steve is wearing khaki shorts, sandals, and a tight black t-shirt with “XWW’s Swine Flu” written on it and an arrow pointing to his face. He continues walking, right up to the podium where several microphones are attached…~~~
Studs: *ahem* Thanks for comin’. I’ll be takin’ questions later, one at a time. No yellin’. And for you hot, long-legged blonde female type reporters….yes, you can bring a girlfriend, we’ll just go and get that question outta the way right now. Ya dig? Stevie does enjoy a ménage a trios like a motherfu----*ahem*.
ANY-way…as you may have noticed, I have stopped myself from droppin’ the F-bomb right off the fuckin’ bat. Oh, sorry. Heh.
It appears my potty mouth has already gotten me into some hot water with the head honco here in Xtreme Sesame Street Wrestling, so I’m curbin’ my cursin’ as per orders. I don’t shit in the hand that feeds me.
~~~Steve reaches under the podium and pulls from it a very large book. He holds it up as the camera zooms in on the title: “No Less Than Two Thousand Ways to Use FUCK, FUCKED, or FUCKING in Everyday Speech.”~~~
Studs: I’m puttin’ my Bible on the shelf, and if you’ll notice…
~~~Steve holds his right leg out from behind the podium, there’s a small gadget fastened to his ankle that looks like some type of house arrest device.~~~
Studs: I have taken the liberty to purchase what is truly technology at its finest hour. Ya see, this thing will instantly recognize when I’m gonna say FUCK by readin’ the contortions of my mouth from nerve endin’s running down my neck through my legs and give me a slight shock before I can get it out. It simultaneously, via a voice simulation module embedded in it, replaces the naughty word with one, shall we say… is more KID FRIENDLY. I don’t know what happens if I’m gettin’ ready to say fruit, frump, folly, or somethin’ of the like…but it’s not like I say a fuckin’ word like fruit, frump, or folly anyway.
Man in the “press area”: It didn’t’ shock you and you said an F word!
Studs: I don’t have it on yet, jerkweed…
~~~Steve reaches down and flips a switch, the anklet chirps slightly and a red, beeping light is now visible.~~~
Studs: Let’s test this motherhuncher, shall we? I’m goin’ to read a transcript of my promo from yesterday, and see if the goddamn thing is worth what I paid for it.
Lady in the “press area”: Why did it allow you to use the Lord’s name in vain?
Studs: Shit lady, they say that on COMMERCIAL television… HEY! It let me say “shit”. Good, now I can continue to accurately describe RoadHouse’s promos without havin’ to use a watered down version of what I really think…
~~~Steve takes a deep breath and holds up a piece of paper, he places non prescription, clear lens “reading” glasses on for visual effect.~~~
*ahem*
Congratulations, faggots. This whole bit was about as bzzzt <bad overdub>frolicking</bad overdub> entertainin’ as Owen Hart…and I’m talkin’ AFTER he fell from the bzzzzt <bad overdub>filthy</bad overdub> rafters. Ya dig? The chain doesn’t stop now, my watch says it’s still bzzzt <bad overdub>flipping</bad overdub> Thursday. And even if it WAS Friday, I’d be out here anyway. I do whatever the bzzzt <bad overdub>freak</bad overdub> I want. When I want. Ummm, unless the promoter threatens my pay and shit.
~~~Steve scans ahead…~~~
People are tired of dudes like this Eddie Munster lookin’ mook, posin’ in front of tombstones like he’s some galldurn Lucifer’s offspring wanna-be, tryin’ to make people believe he can deliver an Outsider’s Edge maneuver on somebody when the kid doesn’t look like he can lift fifty bzzzt <bad overdub>fantastic</bad overdub> pounds.
Drink all the energy drinks you can, Eddie…maybe you can “munster” up the strength to pick me up. Heh. I wouldn’t bzzzt <bad overdub>fancy</bad overdub> bet on it if I were you…
And what about this bzzzt<bad overdub>fonzie</bad overdub> called The Flash? Who’s your valet? Wonder Woman? Is bzzzt <bad overdub>SpiderfloozyMan</bad overdub> gonna show up? Bring the whole goddamn Justice League of America™, son….you think you can RUN fast? Let me slap you upside your bzzzt <bad overdub>farmy</bad overdub> head and see how fast you go, jerkweed. I’ll smack your dumbass right out of that faggot looking red and yellow leotard you’re wearin’ so fast it’ll remain standin’ for another five seconds EMPTY.
~~~Steve mumbles “farmy?” to himself, shakes his head, and continues.~~~
Man: And what about Mr. Creed? Or should I say Mr. Greed? BWAAAHAAA HAAAA! That’s SO funny! What a clever guy, you are, Piss Jones. See? I can make stupid puns of names as well. But I bet you’re closer to PISS than Creed is to “greed”. Ya dig?
And now, Mr. Jones. And Me. Counting Crows. How appropriate, because if I ever see this bzzzt <bad overdub>frosty</bad overdub> joke in person he’ll be countin’ bzzzt <bad overdub>fornicating</bad overdub> BUZZARDS. And THAT, is a FACT!
You actually think you’re funny? You called some ass vapor “Speedy Gonzales” and the crowd popped for THAT? bzzzt <bad overdub> FRICK!</bad overdub> These fans are in desperate need of some Sports Entertaining, and if you’re the *ahem* entertainin’ guy around here I really feel bzzzt <bad overdub> flowery</bad overdub> sorry for these people.
But hey, a new day is bzzt <bad overdub>finally</bad overdub> dawnin’, jerkweeds. No longer do you have to rely on Chris Jones and his sphincter buddy RoadHouse for your comedy spot of the show. You’re welcome…
You no longer have to give HUGE pops for a couple of bzzzt <bad overdub>fragranced</bad overdub> knuckles that THINK they deserve them…coming to the ring to HUGE CHEERS. Give me a bzzzt <bad overdub>fantasy</bad overdub> break.
~~~Steve stops, with a “deer in headlights” look on his face.~~~
Studs: “Fantasy break”? Goddamn this thing…this is bullshit.
~~~He crumples the paper, throws it on the floor, and begins to walk away.~~~
Man in “press area”: Hey, man? WHAT ABOUT OUR QUESTIONS?!
Studs: bzzzzt <bad overdub>FRAME</bad overdub> YOUR QUESTIONS, JERKWEED! WHAT? Frame? Oh bzzzt <bad overdub>France</bad overdub> me….
*deep sigh*
Shit on this….
~~~static~~~
TV: DA FUCK??!!
[Trey looks at the camera. Looks at the laptop. Camera. Laptop. Camera. Laptop.]
TV: DF??!! Fuck, where's the nearest bar....
TV: 'Sup Calderwell?
Ted: It's Caldweller...some guy just handed this to me. It's must see.
TV: Is it? OK. Thanks.
Ted: Have you checked out EW Torch?
TV: Yep. Review our shit and I'll give you a fucking link, Benedict Judas. Nothing personal.
[Trey slams the door shut and heads over to his laptop. He shoves in a disc. After it loads, he sees the name Studnuts and the letters XWW.]
TV: The fuck?
[Now curious, he clicks play.]
~~~Steve Studnuts is seen lounging by a swimming pool, presumably the one in his backyard. He’s sprawled out on deck chair wearing nothing but tiny briefs, roasting himself in the Phoenix sun. He’s so oiled up his skin looks as though it’s made of tanned glass. He notices the cameraman he’s summoned for this bit and slowly rises from his prone position. Steve swings his legs off the side and sits up, already chuckling like a C+ student that just aced an exam via the help of Cliff’s notes. The camera rolls…~~~
Studs: Ya know, jerkweeds… earlier today I tuned into the XWW promo gimmick to see what kind of ruckus, if any, I caused the other day. Granted, I know most of these clowns are preparin’ for their little matches this Sunday and hid in their own insignificant corners of their pathetic existence.
However, there was one boner that decided to champion the cause against me and my all out verbal trashin’ of the locker room…in what this moron thinks was a blanket statement against the “so-called” elite. Heh.
~~~Steve reaches over and pours a brownish liquid from a stylish bottle into a handled mug filled with ice. The mug is already beaded with sweat, much like its handler. Steve takes a long drink from the glass and then quickly shakes the burn from his throat after he’s finished. ~~~
Studs: Let me tell you somethin’, “Shitman”. I hate to bruise your ego…well, actually I don’t. But when I enter a promotion and pick apart the roster page, I don’t start with the *ahem* “big dogs”… I’ve been around the block too long to do that. No, no, no… you see, there was barely any mention of Zeleos, what’s his name, that Gallo kid, and Mr. Whatever.
I start with what I consider the job boys. Sorry you felt otherwise…
~~~He takes another swig.~~~
Studs: Apparently, your opinion of you and my opinion of you differ…. Ya dig? Now you may THINK that you’re a player around here because why? Tompkins named you promo guy of the week? Whoopdee-fuckin-do… let’s give the lad a championship.
Do you think I tried to goad you into a match? You’re so easily manipulated! If I wanted a match with you, I’d have asked for it, stupid. I would’ve marched right into to Tompkins’ office and said:
“Hey, Tommy…can I call you Tommy? That knob gobbler Piss Jones, can I sports entertain with him next week and jerk a knot in his ass the size of Rhode Island?”
And he’d say…
“Well no, Steve…we have to build for that kind of match. We can give it to the fans right away!”
And I’d be like:
“But he called me “boyo”. He fuckin’ deserves me to stomp him into a thin, bloody paste.”
And he’d counter with something stupid like this:
“Steve, come on! You’ve been in the game a long time. You know better…”
And I’d fire back with this gem:
“But he said Socrates would “shake in his grave” by my language. Doesn’t he know Socrates invented the word “fuck”? Looks like SOMEBODY slept through Greek philosophy class. Heh. Come on, man… let me crush this bum. PUH-lease?”
And he’d say:
“Steve, as much as I want to see you beat the shit out of Chris Jones and make him eat it, I’m looking at the big picture here. I’m thinking about buy rates. I’m thinking about gate sales. I’m thinking about the security and safety of my performers, and I think you’re going to shoot on him and break his neck to the point his big ass will swing around on his neck like a swivel. I can't give that away for FREE, that's Pay Per View quality entertainment!”
~~~Steve pauses for a second…~~~
Studs: Well, he probably wouldn’t say it quite like THAT. *winks* But you get the idea. I was just wantin’ to find out who wanted to play and who wanted to ignore. Looks like you did both, ummm, “Hitman.” I'm not lookin' for matches, I looked at the "talent" here and offered an observation. Here's another one...
I find it funny that a guy that hopes he’s famous by using that same nick of a guy that was once famous, uh-rah, thinks he’s famous. And struts around here thinkin’ that the in-ring, fans cheerin’ promo style of 1998 is still cool. And says things like, “I’m impressed…not.” Yeah, that faded out about ‘94, son.
Who am I, you asked?
~~~Steve turns up the mug and finishes its contents.~~~
Studs: I’m Steve Studnuts…. and you’re not. But I know… you wish… you could be.
See ya soon, *ahem* "superstar".
TV: The FUCK?
~~~Steve Studnuts is still lounging by his swimming pool, the camera man was just about to leave when…~~~
Studs: Where the fuck are you goin’?
From behind the camera: I thought you were finished…
Studs: No. I’ll tell you when I’m finished, jerkweed…keep rollin.’
~~~Steve sits back down on his deck chair, we see that his mug is filled once again, but Steve ignores it.~~~
Studs: I wasn’t quite finished with Crissy. I’m packin’ my bags right after this and headin’ to KoX…because after watchin’ your promo, what I could stomach that is, you’re right. The fans deserve the best they can get. I’ll be lurkin’ in the buildin’, and maybe just the thought of me runnin’ down and knockin’ your fuckin’ block off will boost the pre-order. Ya dig?
What else have they got to look forward to? The Flash? The moron that made light of the size of my nuts? That’s funny… your girl didn’t seem to complain when they were bouncin’ off her chin.
Or what about The Nightmare? Pfft. Yeah, okay… whatever.
Eddie Munster? Nope. He couldn’t sell wool blankets to a goddamn Eskimo, what the hell is he gonna do to draw?
None of you guys have star power, which is why I came here. To save these fans from boring tirades and monotonous ramblin’s from clods like you and your cookie cutter promos, Chrissy.
Now I’ll admit, you have your place here. Every fed needs a goober that panders to people that still eat marshmallow cereal for breakfast and has their Mommy pick out their wardrobe for the day. “Fans” that still wear cartoon themed underwear.
And then there’s a guy like me, whose fans have their pubic hair already, have their driver’s license and can order alcohol legally… and sit at the cool kids table. Chicks with that full sweater, ya dig?
~~~Steve then takes another drink of his beverage.~~~
Studs: Keep drinkin’ your sodas and watchin’ those Mickey Mouse reruns. Glad hand the kiddies and pump those action figure purchases. I’ll still be here givin’ people that want to see somebody get KTFOed…
...get KTFOed.
I didn’t ASK for a match with you right away because I don’t want one right away. Looks like you’re in for a little push, and I wouldn’t want to throw that *ahem* locomotive off track my first week here.
But rest assured, jerkweed…your day is comin’. The children will cry I'm sure, it’ll be like the day Captain Kangaroo croaked. Or when they took “Barney” off prime time.
And one more thing…shorten your rants, Chrissy… less time for me to get sleepy as fuck and quit watchin’ before it’s over. Thanks, dude.
Camera man, you ready to leave?
From off camera: Sure.
Studs: Then disappear, scumbag. See ya tomorrow night, Piss… I’ll be the guy the whole arena will be cranin’ their neck to see in the rafters while you’re wrestling. Don’t take it personal… that’s how I roll.
~~~static~~~
TV: DA FUCK?
~~~Steve Studnuts is seen walking to a generic podium inside a generic ballroom. Some members of the “press” have gathered, or a reasonable facsimile of “press” have gathered. Steve is wearing khaki shorts, sandals, and a tight black t-shirt with “XWW’s Swine Flu” written on it and an arrow pointing to his face. He continues walking, right up to the podium where several microphones are attached…~~~
Studs: *ahem* Thanks for comin’. I’ll be takin’ questions later, one at a time. No yellin’. And for you hot, long-legged blonde female type reporters….yes, you can bring a girlfriend, we’ll just go and get that question outta the way right now. Ya dig? Stevie does enjoy a ménage a trios like a motherfu----*ahem*.
ANY-way…as you may have noticed, I have stopped myself from droppin’ the F-bomb right off the fuckin’ bat. Oh, sorry. Heh.
It appears my potty mouth has already gotten me into some hot water with the head honco here in Xtreme Sesame Street Wrestling, so I’m curbin’ my cursin’ as per orders. I don’t shit in the hand that feeds me.
~~~Steve reaches under the podium and pulls from it a very large book. He holds it up as the camera zooms in on the title: “No Less Than Two Thousand Ways to Use FUCK, FUCKED, or FUCKING in Everyday Speech.”~~~
Studs: I’m puttin’ my Bible on the shelf, and if you’ll notice…
~~~Steve holds his right leg out from behind the podium, there’s a small gadget fastened to his ankle that looks like some type of house arrest device.~~~
Studs: I have taken the liberty to purchase what is truly technology at its finest hour. Ya see, this thing will instantly recognize when I’m gonna say FUCK by readin’ the contortions of my mouth from nerve endin’s running down my neck through my legs and give me a slight shock before I can get it out. It simultaneously, via a voice simulation module embedded in it, replaces the naughty word with one, shall we say… is more KID FRIENDLY. I don’t know what happens if I’m gettin’ ready to say fruit, frump, folly, or somethin’ of the like…but it’s not like I say a fuckin’ word like fruit, frump, or folly anyway.
Man in the “press area”: It didn’t’ shock you and you said an F word!
Studs: I don’t have it on yet, jerkweed…
~~~Steve reaches down and flips a switch, the anklet chirps slightly and a red, beeping light is now visible.~~~
Studs: Let’s test this motherhuncher, shall we? I’m goin’ to read a transcript of my promo from yesterday, and see if the goddamn thing is worth what I paid for it.
Lady in the “press area”: Why did it allow you to use the Lord’s name in vain?
Studs: Shit lady, they say that on COMMERCIAL television… HEY! It let me say “shit”. Good, now I can continue to accurately describe RoadHouse’s promos without havin’ to use a watered down version of what I really think…
~~~Steve takes a deep breath and holds up a piece of paper, he places non prescription, clear lens “reading” glasses on for visual effect.~~~
*ahem*
Congratulations, faggots. This whole bit was about as bzzzt <bad overdub>frolicking</bad overdub> entertainin’ as Owen Hart…and I’m talkin’ AFTER he fell from the bzzzzt <bad overdub>filthy</bad overdub> rafters. Ya dig? The chain doesn’t stop now, my watch says it’s still bzzzt <bad overdub>flipping</bad overdub> Thursday. And even if it WAS Friday, I’d be out here anyway. I do whatever the bzzzt <bad overdub>freak</bad overdub> I want. When I want. Ummm, unless the promoter threatens my pay and shit.
~~~Steve scans ahead…~~~
People are tired of dudes like this Eddie Munster lookin’ mook, posin’ in front of tombstones like he’s some galldurn Lucifer’s offspring wanna-be, tryin’ to make people believe he can deliver an Outsider’s Edge maneuver on somebody when the kid doesn’t look like he can lift fifty bzzzt <bad overdub>fantastic</bad overdub> pounds.
Drink all the energy drinks you can, Eddie…maybe you can “munster” up the strength to pick me up. Heh. I wouldn’t bzzzt <bad overdub>fancy</bad overdub> bet on it if I were you…
And what about this bzzzt<bad overdub>fonzie</bad overdub> called The Flash? Who’s your valet? Wonder Woman? Is bzzzt <bad overdub>SpiderfloozyMan</bad overdub> gonna show up? Bring the whole goddamn Justice League of America™, son….you think you can RUN fast? Let me slap you upside your bzzzt <bad overdub>farmy</bad overdub> head and see how fast you go, jerkweed. I’ll smack your dumbass right out of that faggot looking red and yellow leotard you’re wearin’ so fast it’ll remain standin’ for another five seconds EMPTY.
~~~Steve mumbles “farmy?” to himself, shakes his head, and continues.~~~
Man: And what about Mr. Creed? Or should I say Mr. Greed? BWAAAHAAA HAAAA! That’s SO funny! What a clever guy, you are, Piss Jones. See? I can make stupid puns of names as well. But I bet you’re closer to PISS than Creed is to “greed”. Ya dig?
And now, Mr. Jones. And Me. Counting Crows. How appropriate, because if I ever see this bzzzt <bad overdub>frosty</bad overdub> joke in person he’ll be countin’ bzzzt <bad overdub>fornicating</bad overdub> BUZZARDS. And THAT, is a FACT!
You actually think you’re funny? You called some ass vapor “Speedy Gonzales” and the crowd popped for THAT? bzzzt <bad overdub> FRICK!</bad overdub> These fans are in desperate need of some Sports Entertaining, and if you’re the *ahem* entertainin’ guy around here I really feel bzzzt <bad overdub> flowery</bad overdub> sorry for these people.
But hey, a new day is bzzt <bad overdub>finally</bad overdub> dawnin’, jerkweeds. No longer do you have to rely on Chris Jones and his sphincter buddy RoadHouse for your comedy spot of the show. You’re welcome…
You no longer have to give HUGE pops for a couple of bzzzt <bad overdub>fragranced</bad overdub> knuckles that THINK they deserve them…coming to the ring to HUGE CHEERS. Give me a bzzzt <bad overdub>fantasy</bad overdub> break.
~~~Steve stops, with a “deer in headlights” look on his face.~~~
Studs: “Fantasy break”? Goddamn this thing…this is bullshit.
~~~He crumples the paper, throws it on the floor, and begins to walk away.~~~
Man in “press area”: Hey, man? WHAT ABOUT OUR QUESTIONS?!
Studs: bzzzzt <bad overdub>FRAME</bad overdub> YOUR QUESTIONS, JERKWEED! WHAT? Frame? Oh bzzzt <bad overdub>France</bad overdub> me….
*deep sigh*
Shit on this….
~~~static~~~
TV: DA FUCK??!!
[Trey looks at the camera. Looks at the laptop. Camera. Laptop. Camera. Laptop.]
TV: DF??!! Fuck, where's the nearest bar....