Post by CircularAnswer on May 2, 2007 19:09:16 GMT -5
*Sir Zeno and the Dimension Z group stand in the middle of an empty vacant lot, with a sign planted in the concrete behind him. The sign bears a hastily-painted "BOB Wrestling Schedule" on it.*
Sir Zeno: Damn it all! Once again, Brawlers on a Budget has gone dry. Not only do we now receive nothing better than a "I have Writer's Block" recap when it does update, but suddenly it all comes to a halt. There's not even anything to look at on the message board...
Queen Mylisiv: Well, Axl Van Halen posted something earlier today...
Sir Zeno: Like I said, nothing worth looking at. Is this last year all over again?
Mr. Paradox: I wish. Last year it didn't go tits-up until June.
Sir Zeno: Blast... And the worst part is that we don't even have any feuds to exploit.
*Cut to Dr. Thrilla and Cecil, halfway across the continent. Dr. Thrilla is drinking some malt liquor, which is a feat for a man with metal teeth.*
Dr. Thrilla: *metal clanging*
Cecil: The doctor says he hasn't forgotten about you, Axel.
Dr. Thrilla: *ominous metal clanging*
Cecil: He will bury you in due time.
Dr. Thrila: *metal clanging*
Cecil: And he'll bury your balls in a separate grave.
Sir Zeno: Damn it all! Once again, Brawlers on a Budget has gone dry. Not only do we now receive nothing better than a "I have Writer's Block" recap when it does update, but suddenly it all comes to a halt. There's not even anything to look at on the message board...
Queen Mylisiv: Well, Axl Van Halen posted something earlier today...
Sir Zeno: Like I said, nothing worth looking at. Is this last year all over again?
Mr. Paradox: I wish. Last year it didn't go tits-up until June.
Sir Zeno: Blast... And the worst part is that we don't even have any feuds to exploit.
*Cut to Dr. Thrilla and Cecil, halfway across the continent. Dr. Thrilla is drinking some malt liquor, which is a feat for a man with metal teeth.*
Dr. Thrilla: *metal clanging*
Cecil: The doctor says he hasn't forgotten about you, Axel.
Dr. Thrilla: *ominous metal clanging*
Cecil: He will bury you in due time.
Dr. Thrila: *metal clanging*
Cecil: And he'll bury your balls in a separate grave.