A Bastard Christmas

[Bobby Bourbon]

It’s Christmas Morning with The Brotherhood of Bastards! The deep crimson artificial Christmas tree is bedecked with black ornaments and strands of golden lights, dominating the room, as we see the Brotherhood of Bastards en masse. Harmon, the Nickleman, Crash, Thunder Knuckles, and Bobby Bourbon are all in their matching red and black checker print pajamas, seated on the floor by the tree. Bobby hands Harmon a gift that looks like it was wrapped by a Cro-Magnon, so Bobby.

Great job, buddy, you’re a damn proud addition to the Bastards. We all chipped in and got you something.

Harmon tugs at the paper, and it almost disintegrates off of the box. Harmon opens it and pulls out a slide whistle. He looks confusedly at Bobby.

It’s your inner voice!

Harmon rolls his eyes and signs something to Bobby.

He’s throwing gang signs again.

No, he’s calling me a dolt. Well, who knew “dolt” made it into ASL? Anyhow, let’s open our shit!

The Bastards all find the piles of presents that Santa left for them.

I told you keeping Santana and Christmas in the Church of the Bastard was a good idea.

Right. You’re right.

The Bastards all open their gifts, hoping for what their dark hearts desire. Instead, well, they find nothing but…

Oh man, I got a lump of coal!

Me too!

Bobby and TK hurriedly open more gifts as The Nickelman, Crash, and Harmon all find coal as well. After a mad scramble, even stuff sent to them from fans and others has been turned into coal by Santa. The Nickelman speaks up with green paint around the top of his nose and around the bottom of his chin.

This is bullshit, why'd Harmon get a gift?

Quickly Crash, who has red paint smeared on the bridge of his nose and around his chin just like The Nickleman, responds.

Who cares? Wanna go huff some more paint?

Clearly, these two are bonding, despite fighting each other to become the number one contender for the Paradigm Champion.

Man, we gotta set that motherfucker straight.

Santana fucked up.

Bobby gestures towards the rest of the Bastards, all dumbfounded they got nothing but coal.

That prick ruined Christmas! Let’s go get him!

Yeah!

Bobby and TK stand up and exchange a no-look fist bump.

Is it time to save Christmas?

Our Christmas!

Bobby and TK rip off their pajamas, revealing that Bobby was in jeans and a flannel shirt underneath. TK is in his definitely not Mormon underwear, he didn’t prepare anything, he just ripped his pajamas off.

Jimmy!

Jimmy pops his head into the room excitedly, he was probably just standing in there waiting for TK to call his name.

Yeah, TK?

Buy plane tickets to the North Pole and I gotta go get pants!

Sometime later, in two first-class seats, OCW Tag Team Championship Title Belts worn as intended over their travel clothes. TK found pants and is wearing them along with an OSU sweatshirt.

You know, Jimmy sucks at getting fucking plane tickets. I can’t believe this shit. We should get our own private jet!

Oh, hogwash, they’re more trouble than they’re worth.

Bobby smirks, knowing he got TK a jet for Christmas but it got turned into coal. On the screen on the back of the seats in front of TNGB we see a commercial for OCW Hardwired to Self Destruct. The graphic for the Tag Team Championship match is shown.

Yo, TK, is this right? These motherfuckers have us saddled up against two camwhores who weigh in at a total combined weight of less than me? Each weighing less than you? God damnit, I mean, sure, the ladies love the Brotherhood of Bastards! You always tip well, and I pull partners that put either of these little hood rats to fucking shame! We haven’t faced anyone as sadistic? Bitch, we invented ‘sadistic’!

Bobby shakes his head.

Yep, we’ve totally never fought people willing to die in the ring only to have the OPPORTUNITY of facing us.

TK starts shaking his head no.

Nope.

While TK is over exaggerating his head shaking no, Bobby chimes in.

Never.

No longer shaking his head TK says.

Not once.

Then these bitches have the audacity to come out and say they’re going to bring tag team wrestling to a forefront?

Oh, get fucked, sloppy cunt.

Girls, welcome out from under the rock you’ve been fucking wrestling under for so long, Them No Good Bastards, the mighty Prophet of the Bastard, the Relentless Legend, Thunder Knuckles, and myself, your humble big bad, big bad, of big bads, the vicious inquisition of the Bastard, Bobby Bourbon, have taken tag team wrestling beyond anything you two ever have or ever fucking will.

Bobby folds his arms across his chest and glares into the monitor in front of him, like he wants to grab it by the throat if it had one.

If those two think they’re stepping into the ring at Hardwired to Self Destruct, LIVE FROM, Oil Fields of Fox Creek, in some cesspool in Canada on December 31st, 2022 with guys who are going to simp for them, and give them a win? Well then, not only are they dumber than those tight jean-wearing, Gen Z, fuck boys that buy their used panties, but they're in for the beating of their goddamn lives.

I don’t simp for anyone for fuck’s sake, I keep my dick wet. LeStrange? I will beat you so hard you’ll think I’m your daddy the first time you puked up his sperm. Desdemona, you’re named after a fucking Gargoyle, so get fucked there, and secondly, I’m going to splatter you onto the fucking mat like you were made of grape fucking jelly.

Bobby and TK exchange a no-look fistbump celebrating undry peni. Bobby then rolls his eyes and continues.

You bitches think you’re dark? We are the fucking darkness that looms over the fucking heads of any, and we mean absolutely fucking any, team that thinks their shit could never stink and even dares seek the light from the shade we cast. Safe Haven? You’ve come out to fucking slaughter, and it’s going to be more fun than a barrel of monkeys.

No fucking chimps, damn it!

Alright.

Bobby swiftly waves off a chimpanzee carrying a cake, behind TK, as a surprise, and TK is left none the wiser to Bobby’s creative albeit fucking weird idea for a gift for a grown man. The chimp starts handing out mimosa and eggs benedict in a bag to the first-class section travelers. TK hasn’t noticed whatsoever they’re flying on an all-chimp airline. Continuing to distract TK from noticing, Bobby begins spitting bars.

TNGB is entering 2023 the only way they know how, dominant
Our title reign so nasty it's melanoma that's prominent
Take over the situation every moment to each moment
Got blood on our heels from every foe and opponent.
Haven starts their year like Times Square, dropping the ball
Ready, set, choke like they're behind the glory hole in some bathroom stall
Step to us on New Years, that does take some gaul
But we're Bastards, united, undivided, you fall.
And in the wake of it, you'll scream and you'll crawl
How the fuck will you survive this match that spun into a brawl?
We never disappoint but we're sure to appall
Spilling and smearing your fucking blood from wall to fucking wall
You've done issued a challenge you're gonna regret
Trying to seem relevant by losing to us is a sucker ass bet.
You're spoopy ass wannabes tryna hook nerds on the internet
We’re absolutely Them No Good Bastards, OCW Tag Team Champions, bringing the biggest beating of your lives yet.

A chimp walks down the aisle but TK’s attention is on Bobby.

Fuck yeah!

Now, Brother Knuckles, I bequeath unto thee to sermonize unto these heathens. Prepare their hearts for the way of the Bastard by crushing them.

As Bobby finishes his sentence TK bows his head.

Bastardly Father, only you understand how much we like hurting our opponents. We are bitter people, bitter that Your word is not heard, only your "Mistress". Though fitting our opponents should listen to the word of a side piece rather than the Bastardly Father, himself.

With his head still bowed TK begins shaking his head.

The Bastard Above's insolence and his unrivaled power, vested in us, will not forgive those who choose not to heed the word of the Bastard. Hardwired to Self Destruct is no turning point. First, Desdemona Luciana, will experience a Bobby Bomb. Then, Phoenix LeStrange, will take the ride of her life-

-Yes, Bastardly Father, the Rainbow Laser Death Sequence.

she'll be telling all her simps how she's never been rocked like when Your disciples, Bobby Bourbon and 'Ol Thunder Knuckles beat them.

TK, eyes still closed, tilts his head back, and raises his hands in the air.

You know all the ways we’ve hurt others, and we relish in these sins. Lord Bastard, thank you for these Tag Teams that are lining up to die to prove Your word, is above all. We accept Your gifts and will show them no forgiveness. I ask You to disease their hearts with as they feel Your hatred. Show them Your way, as we pound their flesh. In the Bastards’ name, we prey.

Lowering his hands TK tilts his head back to normal and opens his eyes, strangely, Bobby raises his head and opens his eyes at the exact same time.

A-Goddamn-men.

The fasten seatbelts sign lights up in the plane as the rest of the people in first class start applauding the way these two men can turn vile and bile into pure gold. The scene gently fades out. Your screen shifts to a shot of Santa Claus, the holy symbol of Christmas, the reason for the season, no matter what some false prophet named Jesus will tell you. Jolly ole’ Saint Nick is taking a load off, having done his one day’s work for a fucking year. He’s in his red pants and has taken his jacket off, instead wearing a black turtleneck. As he settles into his huge recliner, ready to kick it up on Christmas and relax, his front door is booted in. Them No Good Bastards storm into the room, caked with layers of what appears to be blood. Clenched in Bobby’s left hand is an elf’s hat, green, conic, and pointy. TK spits out an elfs ear onto the floor.

It’s beginning to look a lot fucking like Christmas!

Santa looks stunned in terror.

I can’t believe all those elves came out and fought like that. I mean, we kicked the shit out of them. How’d that ear taste?

Like gingerbread.

Santa reaches for a shotgun! He shoots, and sprays Christmas cheer into the air!

You can take goodwill and shove it up your ass, Santana! Now fucking die!

TK reaches over his shoulder, where he has something holstered, Bobby looks utterly shocked.

Wait, what? No!

TK doesn't draw whatever is behind his back.

We’re not killing Santa, no! We’re usurping his powers, which may require some cannibalization but not deicide!

But I brought this chainsaw!

TK holds up an electric chainsaw that was slung behind his back.

Is there gas in the chainsaw?

Shaking the chainsaw you can clearly see that TK is frustrated.

Fuck! No!

TK throws the electric chainsaw to the ground.

Lookie here, you fucking fat little Kringle, you’re going to fix all those expensive ass presents I bought for the fucking Bastards that you thought would be fucking funny to turn into coal.

Santa nods. He waves his hand. Bobby’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and boops, the screen caller ID saying it’s Crash.

Yo! They did? Awesome, yeah, we’re in his living room.

Wait. Is that Crash?

Bobby lowers the phone and looks at TK.

Yeah.

Tell’em I said… fuck… tell’em I said the sheets are dry and he shouldn’t have to worry about wombats anymore.

Bobby puts the phone back to his ear, looking at TK in disbelief.

Hey, TK said something about your linens are done in the dryer and the wombats won’t be a problem.

Bobby waits for a response then looks back at TK.

Crash is wondering what the fuck that means.

TK shrugs better than Shawn Warstien.

I dunno.

Look, I gotta go, come up to the North Pole, bring the roller skates.

Bobby hangs up. He slides his phone back into his pocket. As he does, he and TK grab Santa and stand him up. They walk him out of the front door of his modest house and over to his garage. Bobby reaches down and grabs the latch, and with a tug opens the door. Within we see it; Santa’s sleigh, and eight reindeer.

You’re working overtime this fucking year!

Yeah, double down on the fucking miracles! Wooooh!

TK cocks an eyebrow.

Did you just “woo”?

I am a wrestler I woo well.

Goddamn right!

Bobby and TK get into the sleigh, forcing Santa along with them.

On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer, and Vixen! On Comet and Cupid, on Stan Lee…

Bobby and TK look baffled.

What’s the last one?

Charles Barkley. Who cares let's go do Grinch shit.

Perfect. On Charles Barkley!

Slapping the reigns down hard on the reindeer, they have no choice but to fly, TK yells out.

Get fucked all you assholes, and have a miserable night!