You can't handle The Doc

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants]

[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is sitting on a witness stand, wearing his customary suit and tie combo. He’s surrounded by a jury box full of men in military uniforms, and Tom Cruise, yeah, THAT Tom Cruise, is asking him questions… while dressed in Naval dress blues.]

Cruise: Why the two orders?

SMP: Huh?

Cruise: The two orders? You said that you gave an order that you’d specifically not involve yourself in matches involving Sam the Dancing Yam and Axl. And then you said in a pre-taped interview for the possibly named “BOB Dirt Cheap Sheet” that they should be transferred from BOB so you wouldn’t be compelled to attack them and teach them a lesson.

SMP: You snotty little bastard.

Cruise: Doctor? Why the two orders? If Axl and Sam weren’t in any danger from your Pearl Harbor jobs, why would you recommend an order that they need to be transferred?

SMP: Sometimes. [Plants searches for a sensible answer] Men take matters into their own hands. Even when it’s the same man that said, ummm, he wouldn’t take matters into his own hands.

Cruise: Say what? That’s not what you said. You said they wouldn’t be in danger. I said, “danger”? You said, “yes”. I said, “grave danger?” You said, ”is there any other kind?” I can have them check the court documents…

SMP: I know what I said, I don’t need to have read back to me.

Cruise: Then why the two orders? If you said they weren’t supposed to be touched by you, and your orders are always followed, then why do they need to be transferred? Why would they be in danger?

SMP: Son, we live in a world where men defend titles with honor, glory, and code. We use these words as a standard of excellence to promote a championship as the best on the planet. You use them as punch line. When supposed “superstars” come along that think they’re entitled for an ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS championship run because they won some stupid gauntlet challenges that are held EVERY OTHER WEEK or be some moron that thinks he’s the savior of a promotion that doesn’t need a savior, a guy that’s in an entertainment type business that he’s ALMOST as entertaining at as painting a room with specially blended paint that NEVER dries, and then watching it dry. These guys come along and say “they’re next.” I say,” no you’re not.”

Cruise: So, you never believed they needed to be transferred, you made the fans think that. You plan on attacking them! You ordered the attacks! You ummm ‘doctored’ the log books! You turned yourself loose! You’re going to jump these guys because you think they need to be taught a lesson! I want answers!

SMP: You want answers?

Cruise: I think I’m entitled to it.

SMP: Oh, I’ll give you an answer…

Cruise: I WANT THE TRUTH!

SMP: YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH! Did I sound like Jack?

Cruise: Kinda. More like Christopher Walken though.

SMP: The hell?

Cruise: Being honest, but anyway?

SMP: Yeah. Anyway…
I’m getting sick and tired of people wanting RESPECT from me, like Sam says he’s going to “beat” out of me or people THINKING that they are DESERVING of everything from multiple championship wins and PPVs named after them and their stupid towns! I’ve worked my ass off for 10 years in Brawler’s on a Budget, but I did it the RIGHT way.

Sure, my record isn’t the best and that’s by design. I sat back and watched lesser talent hold the championship I NAMED IN A BOARD MEETING while I purposely held off carrying the title myself because it was good for the company. Can Sam say that? Can Axl? Axl DEFACED the championship when he was LUCKY enough to have it put on him, the ULTIMATE slap in the face of this promotion. Do you think a Dancing Yam is going to hang around for TEN YEARS to do what’s best for the company and watch others run with the gold while he stays in the shadows? No, I don’t. He wants instant gratification, he boastfully posts his accomplishments on his personal page.

He mocked me like I wasn’t an authority on beating people in a wrestling competition… listen, punk… I HELD THREE CHAMPIONSHIPS IN THREE DIFFERENT PROMOTIONS AT THE SAME TIME. COMPETITIVE PROMOTIONS! So yeah, I’m an authority. If I wasn’t banned from eWmania, you wouldn’t have HALF the hardware you claimed from there, jackass.

And WHY, am I not there? Because I stood up for fellow BOBsters like Death when the tournament was flawed. What did you do? Nothing, you just went along and competed in watered down challenges to stroke your ego. You didn’t speak up when you knew the tournament was a work, when you saw Death CHEATED. And you want MY respect?

And Axl, you are the WORST thing ever perpetrated upon the wrestling business. You try and make people think I’m so LAME your whore girlfriend won’t even have anything to do with me? GOOD! Cause I heard your girlfriend had a penis anyway.
I’m bad at TWO THINGS, huh? Sure, I don’t get every augmentation like it should be, but nobody is perfect. You can’t even pronounce ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS right or get the BOB acronym correct. So, I’m not good at wrestling, yet I’m the champion and you’re not. So where does that leave you? YOU SUCK, your title win was a PITY RUN and you screwed that up… and you WILL NEVER, EVER, HOLD THIS CHAMPIONSHIP AGAIN WHILE I’M BREATHING!

As for American Panda, I guess the chimpanzee that ripped a lady’s face off as got him nervous to be on television eating fucken jugulars. Afraid you’ll be shot or something and sent to go die in the woods? That’s EASY compared to what I’m gonna do to you at Bearly Legal!

The time has come, I’ll stand in the shadows no more… I will not sit back and watch this championship degraded by the Hardcore JJs, Massive Man Rendition Whatevers, Axls, and XXXtreme Machines of the world.

You want this title? You have to EARN IT. You have to beat me, and you can’t do it. So I don’t give a damn what you’re entitled to.

Cruise: Did you order the attacks?

SMP: I'm doing what I think is best for the buisness...

Cruise: DID YOU ORDER THE ATTACKS?!

SMP: YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT I DID!

[There’s several moments of uncomfortable silence.]

Cruise: Now THAT… sounded like Nicholson.

SMP: Really? Think so?

Cruise: Yep, dead ringer.

SMP: Cool, think Demi will let me augment her tits?

Cruise: No.

SMP: Let me see them?

Cruise: Probably not.

SMP: It’s a wrap then. Did I order the attacks…. YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT I DID!

[Fade out to the pictures of American Panda, Sam, Sam the Dancing Yam, and Axl while a familiar military tunes begins to play…]

[@xL]

[The camera opens to Axl's apartment, where the "Savior" is lounging about on his tired out couch, eyes glued to the tube. A knock comes at the door.]

Axl: Come on in. Unless it's Kobe. In which case, YOU BEST GET TAH STEPPIN', FOO'!

Tifa: It's me. Tifa...

Axl: Oh, cool! Did you get that thing I sent you?

Tifa: ... What thing?

Axl: That thing! ... Nevermind, just a stupid "Harvey Birdman" joke that's been stuck in my head for the past... several months. ... Come in!

Tifa: I dunno if I want to anymore...

Axl: Oh, come in ya dumb bit- er... Just come in, alright?

[Tifa does, and as she steps into the apartment, she walks over to the couch. She stands behind Axl, talking to him as he continues to stare at the tv screen.]

Tifa: I've got bad news.

Axl: Oh dear lord, you're pregnant?!

Tifa: No... What? What gives you that idea?

Axl: Well, it's just that with you, every passing day the amount of possible baby daddies grows...

Tifa: Ugh... Anyway, the bad news is, alot of the other members of the BOB roster are -

Axl: Whoa, whoa... wait. BOB?

Tifa: ... Yeah?

Axl: I thought it was BoB?

Tifa: Nope.

Axl: Oh... Damn.

Tifa: ... ANYWAY, alot of your fellow BOBsters are saying things...

Axl: Like what?

Tifa: Well... they're saying you're boring.

Axl: Me? Boring?

Tifa: Yes, you. Boring. And I tend to agree with them.

Axl: ...

Tifa: We've got to change your image, Axe.

Axl: Well, I'll think about it. After I get through watching this...

Tifa: You mean that SMP rant?

Axl: Yeah. ... And it just ended. Ok, I'll think about changing my image... AFTER I get through tearing SMP a new hole! Camera man, zoom!

[The camera takes a frontal view of Axl, now sitting up on the couch, with a determined expression. Behind the couch, Tifa still stands...]

Axl: Sil... you can go on and on about "waiting in the shadows" all you like. You can try and deceive the fans, as well as yourself, but you KNOW... and I know... and you know, I know, you know, I know, you know, I know, THAT YOU KNOW!!! ... deep down inside of the inner sanctum of your borderline nutsoid self, that that's nothing more than a buncha horse hockey!

[Horse hockey?]

Axl: SHUT UP! I'm on a roll here!

[Sure... Atleast you have self confidence. No shortage of that...]

Axl: Sil, the ONLY reason... and I mean the ONLY damn reason you're champion now, is because there's hardly half the competition now that there was all those years ago, before I stepped into this promotion, and while you were hardly close to becoming the "top dog". I mean, there used to be guys like Billy Polar... Bobo Q. Fiendish... DOUJA. Now? Face it, the only guy worth a damn left on this stinkin' roster is the guy you're looking at right this very instant, and that's ME!!! ME, ME, ME, ME!!! THAT'S why BOB needs a Savior, dammit! Because who ELSE is going to keep iMPLOSION on cable, without it tanking like SMC did back on Comedy Central?!

[The camera gets a shot of Tifa, still standing behind the couch, holding up a series of signs... Axl is totally oblivious to this situation.]

"Hey SMP -
I'm sorry for all of those remarks I made about you before.
I was just trying to raise Axl's morale, and boost his spirits.
Truth is, if it weren't for my business commitments,
I wouldn't have anything to do with this loser. So...
You have anything scheduled for next Saturday?
How about you and I do lunch? And... maybe breakfast? "

[Axl finally hears the ruffling of signage, and turns his head around... but Tifa drops the signs just in time for Axl to see nothing but her standing there, twiddling her thumbs and whistling. Axl scratches his head, but turns back to the camera.]

Axl: Anyway... Who else is going to sell four OnDemands a year to the fickle BOB fans? The Great? HA! Don't make me laugh! Some jobber like Scat Man or Sam Sam the Dancin' Retard? Not a fukken jugular of a chance! And speaking of which, don't look for American Panda to be this company's saving grace. He'll be too busy scratching his ass on bamboo trees! And Kobe Gyant... well, if he ever did have the opportunity to become ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS, you butter believe me, he'd choke, just like YOU have Sil, every last time you've EVER faced off for the gold. That is, until you got LUCKY, and some how, some way defeated that muscled up meat-head Steve Crud Butt! So don't you DARE try to sell me on the legitamacy of your title reign, buster, because facts are facts, and the truth of the matter is, you're only holding that strap until I come along and snatch it off from around your pretty little waist!

[Heh... calling another guy "pretty", eh? The evidence is just piling up, isn't it?]

Axl: Oh you just shut your damn trap... And SMP! You talk about my "defacing" the OWTTM. Buddy, I didn't just "deface" the title, I SET THE DAMN THING ON FIRE!!! Why? It wasn't because I had a real problem with the belt. Sure, it may not be the snazziest of wrestling championships... in fact, it's perhaps the most shoddily contructed belt in the history of professional amateur fake-ass e-sports entertainment wrestling... next to the Timmy Taylor's Hardkore Backyard Wrasslin' World PimpleWeight Title Belt Championship. But really, a glittery, shiny, sparkly gold belt isn't what matters. What DOES matter is image. And THAT'S the reason I set the belt on fire. The very same reason I've been taking Tifa's advice, and have tried to become the most well known name in this company. Even if it takes doing the most despicable, utterly unforgivable things imagineable. And if that's what it takes to get the job done... then that's what I WILL do.

Axl: Publicity is power, Mr. Plants. And the more publicity I receive? The more infamous I become. The more infamous I become, the more people pay attention. And the more people pay attention... the closer I become to my second ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS reign. And as Triple H has proven by making it his life's goal to rack up more title reigns than "The Nature Boy", it's NOT the length of the reign that matters... it's the NUMBER! And I will not stop until I reach a number of title reigns so vast that it's nigh impossible to count them even on the most ADVANCED of calculators! And then... I'll get one more. Just for kicks.

Axl: You have the utter gaul to refer to this chick behind me as my girlfriend... Tifa told Scat Man, and I'll tell you myself, Simplants. She is not... and I mean NOT, my girlfriend! She is nothing more than a business agent to me! Really... how do you expect me to go out with a whore like her?!

[At this, Tifa naturally becomes pissed off, and storms in front of Axl.]

Tifa: WHORE?! You're calling me a WHORE?!

Axl: You know... that almost sounded like something out of Oliver Twist. "Whore?! You want a WHORE?!"

Tifa:

Axl: Sorry.

Tifa: You DO remember the fact that you went out with that slut Michelle, right? She was a far sluttier slut than I've EVER slutted, if you'll recall!

Axl: Of course, of course... But I think you should know something. SMP sorta... mentioned something in his promo...

Tifa: ... Like what?

Axl: Well, like... your little... "growth"?

Tifa: ... You're fucking kidding me, right? He CAN'T know about that!

Axl: He said you have a penis...

Tifa: NOT ANYMORE!!! ... I mean...

Axl: Oh, of course you don't have a penis! We made that ABUNDANTLY clear over a year ago, when we talked about the operation!

Tifa: Dammit Axl, don't remind those sickos out there about that! They'll think I'm a tranny! ... WHICH I'M NOT!

Axl: Of course, of course. Don't worry, I think they all know that, ok?

Tifa: They better. I am not, nor have I EVER been a transexual!

Axl: Of course. Now, take a seat, and I'll finish this rant, k?

Tifa: ... K.

[Tifa sits down beside Axl. Axl then speaks...]

Axl: Seriously, Tifa. Hermaphrodites are totally cool in MY book!

Tifa: AAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH!!!! AXL!

Axl: Sorry...



Axl: You bet your sweet ass! ... Hold on! What's that supposed to mean?!

[It means if you're tired of sticking it in a chick's hole, they can turn you around and stick it in yours!]

Axl: ... I don't follow.

[... Just... continue the rant. Jeez...]

Axl: Finally, SMP, you say that the title reign was a pity reign. A PITY reign?! Are you joking? Simpleton Plants, that CAN'T be! Because wrestling's REAL, and the wins and losses are decided in the RING, not in the script of some writer! For your theory to be correct, why... I'd have to be totally wrong about the previous statement!

Tifa:

Axl: What was that for?

Tifa: Well, it's just... you ARE totally wrong.

[So what's new...]

Tifa: Of COURSE there's a writer, Axe!

Axl: Huh... Well, that WOULD explain alot... like how the Great's beat me in practically all of our matches together. How else do you explain something as nonsensical as that? There's GOT to be someone writing that shit...

Tifa: Actually... that was just because the Great's better than you. And cuter, too.

Axl: OH, FUCK YOU! I'm gonna take a smoke...

Tifa: Fine, I'm headed back to my house anyway. I've got a hot date with a spicy Mexican!

Axl: You mean... Doc Taco?

Tifa: Yup. ;D

Axl: ... Yech.

[Tifa heads for the door, and opens it, when Axl calls out...]

Axl: You know... you could do so much better...

Tifa: (looks back at Axl) Like who?

Axl: Oh... I dunno.

Tifa: ...

Axl: ...

Tifa: Welp... later.

Axl: ...

[Tifa shuts the door, leaving Axl staring off blankly... before he sighs heavily to himself, and the camera fades out.]

|later|

[Axl is standing outside the apartment building, leaning against a brick wall. The self-proclaimed "Grunge Warrior" wears a long, black trenchcoat, over torn denim jeans and a plain black tee, and on his feet he wears a brown pair of sandals. Axl pulls a cigerette from his trench pocket, lifts the stick to his mouth, and removes a lighter from the same pocket. Axl lights the cig, before placing the lighter back in his pocket. He takes a drag... before releasing a few circles of smoke into the air. Axl smirks to himself... and stares down at the ground, with the cigerette held between his fingers.]

Axl: You know -

[Axl, that was a really stupid, long, drawn out, generic, and altogether BORING description. Thought you were gonna work on that?]

Axl: Oh fuck dude, don't start giving me shit like John and J! Seriously, I've been doing this shit for, what, nine, ten years now? I've got this shit down to a science, ok chachi?

[Really, how "grunge". A Dennis Miller reference. ]

Axl: Oh, fuck off...

[But really Axe, you NEED to try and be more creative. Maybe it'll help you out with Kobe?]

Axl: ... Ugh. Alright, give me what you think is a more "creative" scene, ok? Not like it's going to help my message, but whatever...

- - - - - - - - - - -

[Axl is skipping alongside the beach, when a shark flies through the air and eats him.]

Axl: ... Are you high?

[... Maybe.]

Axl: Well, can we just cut to the chase? I don't know WHERE the hell you're going to place me next...

[I've got this great spot... at the bottom of the ocean. I've picked out a pair of cement shoes just for the occasion. ]

Axl: Ugh... SMP! You say I'll never hold the title again as long as you're breathing. Trust me... if that's all it's going to take, then that belt's as good as mine. If it takes your last drop of blood... your last drop of sweat... the screams of a dying man? Then, old pal... that's what I'll be forced to provide.

Axl: You claim this federation doesn't "need" a Savior... But Simps, while BOB may not need saving... I have a question for you. When the earth below feels as if it's ready to crumble... When the world comes crashing down around you... When the end comes... Who will save you?

Axl: The end is near...

"I AM YOUR END."













[God that sucked...]

Axl: FUCK YOU MOTHERFU -

|the|