Post by Francis on Oct 4, 2005 4:19:01 GMT -5
- Location: Crabapple Square Gardens, Texas City, Texas / Time: 6:54a.m. -
[We open to what could very well be the smallest arena to ever be taped on film. In fact, the ring where tonight's big event is to take place had to be brought up to the fifth floor one piece at a time! And there's only one floor! ... Yeah, I don't get it either... Mitchell Buffer, Michael's third cousin twenty-seven times removed, stands in the center of the ring with microphone in hand, and Jay... er, "Butterball" stands in the right corner in an American Flag styled pair of trunks.]
Buffer: LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLadiesandgentlemenboysandgirlschildrenofallages... Tonight, in THIS very ring... you will bear witness, to the most vicous of knock-out, drag down fights. And in the end, only the winner will come out with the 'w'. LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLadiesandgentlemenboysandgirlschildrenofallages... First off, in the right corner, wearing the black... er, red, white, and blue trunks... BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTERball. And his opponent-
[Suddenly, before Mitchell can say anything further, the lights black out. ... Before a spotlight shines in the center of the ring. A few lights flicker on and off, before a rope drops from the rafters, and down comes... the man they call... Francis! ... And by God does he come down, falling straight down from the rafters, without even once coming within an inch of the rope... and crashing, AND burning right on his ass on the mat. Wow, that entrance sends goosebumps across my flesh everytime I see it. Mainly because if that jackass gets killed doing that stupid ass stunt one of these days, there goes my meal ticket...]
[Francis finally gets to his feet, and grabs the mic out of Buffer's hands instead of heading for the fight. Francis lifts the stick to his mouth, and the non-existant audience dies down...]
Francis: Welll... welll... welllll... Riddle me this, riddle me that... who's afraid... of the Show's... pink... BAT!
[OH GOD, HE'S GONNA LET JAY, ER, BUTTERBALL SUCK HIS- oh, he's just getting out the baseball bat. Francis turns around toward Jay, er... aw screw it. He whops him over the head with the bat, laying him flat out, and then pins him. One... two... three. ... Dang. Well, if that wasn't impressive... well, that really wasn't impressive. He hit a stoner in the head with a damn baseball bat. Kinda weak if ya ask me... Especially seeing as he's already received a reply from Mrs. Behave that he can be in the company...]
Francis: Wait... I'm in? I'M IN!!! YES!!! THANK YOU GOD!!! NO MORE JAY... NO MORE IDIOTIC DRUG REFERENCES... NO MORE SCHOOL, NO MORE BOOKS, NO MORE TEACHER'S DIRTY LOOKS!!! I'M FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST, THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, I'M-
[On one condition.]
Francis: - FREE AT- ... Huh? What do you mean?
[You've got to stick to a B-show. The main talent roster doesn't want some drugged-up, hippy clown makig the legends of the roster, like douja, DovE, and Street Mime cry their eyes out as the show they built... Chloroform... is destroyed by some punk like you.]
Francis: Some... punk like me... What do they mean by that?! I'm Francis, dammit! And I deserve to main event this mom and pop operation! I'M FRANCIS, FERDINAND, FARFIGNUGGIN, AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I'M NOT... GONNA... TAKE IT... ANY-
*BOOM!!!*
[Suddenly, an enormous explosion sets off on stage, and the lights go out... before coming back on. Francis is left confused, as he scratches his head for a second... and ultimately turning around- right into a SUPERKICK! From a man in a black tanktop with a load of different search engine logos across the front, a pair of black leather pants with a V on the right leg, and an 8 imprinted on left leg, and a long, black, messy head of hair. The man stands over the decimated body of Francis... with a smile dripping with sinistertood, dastardlyness, rottenocity, and every other synonym for 'evil'. He grabs a microphone, and begins to speak...]
?: "My name... is sunamonous with flatulation. For tonight... is the beginning... of the beginning... of the end... of the beginning... of the end... of the beginning... of the middle... for the bouncing, bountiful, beautiful little babe... known as BoB. With great power comes great responsibility, as they say... for it is an eye for an eye... a tooth for a tooth... dust to dust, and ashes to ashes... Ya see, sometimes you wanna go, where everybody knows your name. And they're always glad you came... Do you want to be where they can see? Yes, their troubles ARE all the same... You wanna go... where everybody knows... My name. And my name... is as stilted as the times of the great Doonsbury. The fields of Gar and the Great Circus of the Family Marmaduke. My name shall be forever etched in the stones of the great temples of MastercardbationFedEx. The look upon their faces... the hits on Google... Yahoo... Ask Jeeves... Young Milf Stripper Pony... Yes, tonight is the end. And it is also the beginning. It was the best of times... the worst of times. Some like it hot, some like it cold, some like it in the pot nine days old. Nintendo or Sega? Microsoft or Sony? Free iPod with every third Burger King raspberry Kool-Aid? I am the Alpha... I am the Omega... I am the Gamma, the Beta, the UPS, and American Airlines... I am that which is... and isn't. What you see... and what you get. Oh lordy, I'm comin' home... I'm Tweedle-dum... I'm Tweedle-dee... I am Maximum Search Results. Or... Max Searchy... Version 8. And You Gotta Be Kidding, I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind? Title Belt?... I'm coming for your, uh... you. Anytime, anyplace, anywhere. And Francis [looks at Francis] I've received word from Big Boss, and guess what? You and BoB have come to a mutual agreement to part ways, and they wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors! Which is WWE speak for, YOU'RE FIRED! ... AGAIN!!! BoB... as the great philanthropist Rob Van Dinkle would say... Screw the Pooch... and SCREW YOU!!!"
"Vee - Eightuuuuuhhhhhhh!!!"
[Max drops the microphone on Francis' chest, before lifting up the V8 sign, which is basically all ten fingers in the air, two for the V, and eight for the... uh... 8.]
[And that's it.]
- Max Searchy Has Logged Off -
[We open to what could very well be the smallest arena to ever be taped on film. In fact, the ring where tonight's big event is to take place had to be brought up to the fifth floor one piece at a time! And there's only one floor! ... Yeah, I don't get it either... Mitchell Buffer, Michael's third cousin twenty-seven times removed, stands in the center of the ring with microphone in hand, and Jay... er, "Butterball" stands in the right corner in an American Flag styled pair of trunks.]
Buffer: LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLadiesandgentlemenboysandgirlschildrenofallages... Tonight, in THIS very ring... you will bear witness, to the most vicous of knock-out, drag down fights. And in the end, only the winner will come out with the 'w'. LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLadiesandgentlemenboysandgirlschildrenofallages... First off, in the right corner, wearing the black... er, red, white, and blue trunks... BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTERball. And his opponent-
[Suddenly, before Mitchell can say anything further, the lights black out. ... Before a spotlight shines in the center of the ring. A few lights flicker on and off, before a rope drops from the rafters, and down comes... the man they call... Francis! ... And by God does he come down, falling straight down from the rafters, without even once coming within an inch of the rope... and crashing, AND burning right on his ass on the mat. Wow, that entrance sends goosebumps across my flesh everytime I see it. Mainly because if that jackass gets killed doing that stupid ass stunt one of these days, there goes my meal ticket...]
[Francis finally gets to his feet, and grabs the mic out of Buffer's hands instead of heading for the fight. Francis lifts the stick to his mouth, and the non-existant audience dies down...]
Francis: Welll... welll... welllll... Riddle me this, riddle me that... who's afraid... of the Show's... pink... BAT!
[OH GOD, HE'S GONNA LET JAY, ER, BUTTERBALL SUCK HIS- oh, he's just getting out the baseball bat. Francis turns around toward Jay, er... aw screw it. He whops him over the head with the bat, laying him flat out, and then pins him. One... two... three. ... Dang. Well, if that wasn't impressive... well, that really wasn't impressive. He hit a stoner in the head with a damn baseball bat. Kinda weak if ya ask me... Especially seeing as he's already received a reply from Mrs. Behave that he can be in the company...]
Francis: Wait... I'm in? I'M IN!!! YES!!! THANK YOU GOD!!! NO MORE JAY... NO MORE IDIOTIC DRUG REFERENCES... NO MORE SCHOOL, NO MORE BOOKS, NO MORE TEACHER'S DIRTY LOOKS!!! I'M FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST, THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, I'M-
[On one condition.]
Francis: - FREE AT- ... Huh? What do you mean?
[You've got to stick to a B-show. The main talent roster doesn't want some drugged-up, hippy clown makig the legends of the roster, like douja, DovE, and Street Mime cry their eyes out as the show they built... Chloroform... is destroyed by some punk like you.]
Francis: Some... punk like me... What do they mean by that?! I'm Francis, dammit! And I deserve to main event this mom and pop operation! I'M FRANCIS, FERDINAND, FARFIGNUGGIN, AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I'M NOT... GONNA... TAKE IT... ANY-
*BOOM!!!*
[Suddenly, an enormous explosion sets off on stage, and the lights go out... before coming back on. Francis is left confused, as he scratches his head for a second... and ultimately turning around- right into a SUPERKICK! From a man in a black tanktop with a load of different search engine logos across the front, a pair of black leather pants with a V on the right leg, and an 8 imprinted on left leg, and a long, black, messy head of hair. The man stands over the decimated body of Francis... with a smile dripping with sinistertood, dastardlyness, rottenocity, and every other synonym for 'evil'. He grabs a microphone, and begins to speak...]
?: "My name... is sunamonous with flatulation. For tonight... is the beginning... of the beginning... of the end... of the beginning... of the end... of the beginning... of the middle... for the bouncing, bountiful, beautiful little babe... known as BoB. With great power comes great responsibility, as they say... for it is an eye for an eye... a tooth for a tooth... dust to dust, and ashes to ashes... Ya see, sometimes you wanna go, where everybody knows your name. And they're always glad you came... Do you want to be where they can see? Yes, their troubles ARE all the same... You wanna go... where everybody knows... My name. And my name... is as stilted as the times of the great Doonsbury. The fields of Gar and the Great Circus of the Family Marmaduke. My name shall be forever etched in the stones of the great temples of MastercardbationFedEx. The look upon their faces... the hits on Google... Yahoo... Ask Jeeves... Young Milf Stripper Pony... Yes, tonight is the end. And it is also the beginning. It was the best of times... the worst of times. Some like it hot, some like it cold, some like it in the pot nine days old. Nintendo or Sega? Microsoft or Sony? Free iPod with every third Burger King raspberry Kool-Aid? I am the Alpha... I am the Omega... I am the Gamma, the Beta, the UPS, and American Airlines... I am that which is... and isn't. What you see... and what you get. Oh lordy, I'm comin' home... I'm Tweedle-dum... I'm Tweedle-dee... I am Maximum Search Results. Or... Max Searchy... Version 8. And You Gotta Be Kidding, I Ain't Doing That, Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind? Title Belt?... I'm coming for your, uh... you. Anytime, anyplace, anywhere. And Francis [looks at Francis] I've received word from Big Boss, and guess what? You and BoB have come to a mutual agreement to part ways, and they wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors! Which is WWE speak for, YOU'RE FIRED! ... AGAIN!!! BoB... as the great philanthropist Rob Van Dinkle would say... Screw the Pooch... and SCREW YOU!!!"
"Vee - Eightuuuuuhhhhhhh!!!"
[Max drops the microphone on Francis' chest, before lifting up the V8 sign, which is basically all ten fingers in the air, two for the V, and eight for the... uh... 8.]
[And that's it.]
- Max Searchy Has Logged Off -