Montages, Russia, and Them No Good Bastards

[Thunder Knuckles]

TK continues to drive the sleigh with the might of ten men, ten men yelling at eight reindeer. Yeah, it's post-Christmas but that was the whole point. Santa, or as TK thinks, Santana, actually gave the Brotherhood of Bastards coal for Christmas, because face fucking facts, they get whatever OCW Gold exists. The most precious titles, pure platinum, and jade are the OCW Tag Team Championships, displayed proudly over the shoulders of Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon, two-time OCW Tag Team Champs, 4 Time World Tag Team Champions (aaaaaaand counting, cunts). For those of you just joining us in tag team wrestling, Bebob and Rocksteady Them No Good Bastards are the balls. TK turns to Bobby, maintaining the reins.

What now? We took away the last shred of integrity from the NFL Headquarters, we pissed on Fenway Park.

Damn right!

We left an upper decker in Elon Musk's master bathroom, and we burned Donald Trump's rug.

All seven!

We combined an In 'N Out, a Whataburger, and a Five Guys.

I believed in Jesus, then finished and praised the Bastard Father!

Praise be the Bastard!

So, uh, I have an idea.

Where to, Brother Bobby?

Bobby smirks. He tells TK as the music overtakes the scene, giving us the following, hopefully absolutely whoop-ass, montage. TK sneers as he cracks the whip. In an instant, we see Top Incel, Ben Shapiro. He's in the studio, broadcasting, when suddenly Bobby and TK burst in. Shapiro looks to screech like a barn owl, but the music continues. TK, hands on hips and arms akimbo, grins as Bobby lunges towards Ben Shapiro, bloodlust in his eyes, "death to incels" scrolling across the screen providing closed captions during a montage. Oscar award-winning shit. We cut to a Baccarat table. TK, in a white tuxedo, makes a bet and then lights a cigar with a hundred-dollar bill. He extinguishes it quickly and jams it back into his pocket, nothing to prove here. Bobby Bourbon walks up and holds up a cable, which he promptly bites in half with metal teeth in a fucking weird homage to James Bond. TK is in the middle of a dance floor somewhere in Ibiza, rolling face on the finest Ecstacy a Bastard can make buy, surrounded by other gorgeous people. Bobby stands, back to the wall and watching, occasionally doing rails of coke off of a pair of massive 40E tits. We see the Mushroom Kingdom, and out of a pipe, Them Super Bastard Bros. appear. TK starts running like Sonic because fuck it. Bobby looks pissed and does a Fatality. Finally, Bobby and TK are parked atop Geno's Steaks in Philadelphia, PA, eating sandwiches with Santa as a hostage in the back.

MmfMmhmmMmfmm!

TK looks back at Santa as he makes muffled noises and smacks the shit out of him.

Shut the fuck up, Bifford.

Looking back at Bobby, TK smirks.

Sorry, Bobby.

No worries, bro, what are going to do now with the power to kill God and become Jesus? That was a lot of fun and all, but damn, it's like 3 days past Christmas and we haven't done enough!

I know! You know what, Bobby, I have an idea!

Awesome. I like your ideas!

Then you'll fucking love this one. We're going to solve world hunger once and for all!

Bobby slowly blinks, his expression flat.

That’s not funny.

TK busts out laughing.

Oh fuck that, I have better shit to do! Hahahaha.

Bobby smiles, rolling his eyes.

Seriously we've been on a three-day bender leading up to this title defense against two trifling ass bitches.

You know what, I really do have an idea this time.

TK throws the paper wrapper to his cheesesteak just over the side of Santa's sleigh as Bobby chomps into his second sixteen-inch cheesesteak. TK cracks the reigns and the exhausted reindeer shudder and struggles to take flight. Not many can hang with Them No Good Bastards, let alone domesticated driving animals. Bobby and TK jet southward, far from the north pole to the south pole, and land outside of the international research station there on top of two families of penguins, squishing them.

Why are we here?

Crushing penguins.

TK cracks the reigns, and the reindeer take off, trampling at least seven, maybe eight more families of penguins. Penguin moms, dads, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, grandkids, the whole shebang, entire penguin family trees wiped out under hoof and sleigh. TK is grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, pardon the irony of the simile if you declined to lavish in it. TK cracks the reigns again, taking off, as Bobby humbly eats a sandwich and Santa dejectedly sits in the back, tied up with duct tape. TK takes the sleigh down into the Donbas region of Ukraine. A group of terrified Russian conscripts looks up in awe at something from fairy tales. Not the sled, of course, but the tandem so spectacular they could steal the pitchfork from the Devil and make him say please to get it back, Them No Good Bastards. Living, breathing legends in their field, TK reaches into the back of the sleigh and pulls out a stack of fresh Macbooks.

See, mother fuckers, you put this shit where your armor is supposed to be and it'll work just well as armor plates. Plus, you can use the internet. All the Ukrainians are doing it.

The Russians' eyes open wide. Bobby hops out and boops his phone, playing with Google translate, until he looks up and speaks.

Otday nam svoyu bronyu i poluchi komp'yuter besplatno!

Because I didn't want to fart around with a Cyrillic alphabet, that's precisely what is heard, which as noted by subtitles, reads "Give us your armor and get a free computer!" The Russians immediately start taking the armor plates from their tactical vests and handing them over to Bobby. TK passes out rose gold Macbooks to each soldier that does. None of the soldiers pass on the offer. They ogle Bobby’s sandwich, perhaps haven't having eaten in days.

Fuck off, Ivan, stick to borscht.

The men's ears perk up at the mention of borscht. TK reaches into the back and starts tossing out packs of Capri-Sun.

We’re American this is the closest we got.

The Russian men excitedly grab the fruit drinks but are positively baffled by the technology held by a Capri-Sun. A soldier squeezes one until it bursts. After all the armor is collected, Bobby dumps the armor plates into the back with Santa and gets into the front seat. TK gets back into the reigns and they take off to the west, landing in Kyiv. Bobby and TK hand over the stack of body armor plates to local military personnel and then take off.

Slava Ukraini!

Wait, TK, hold up! Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

You know I am! What is it?

Why don't we go get that scumbag who started this whole mess!

TK narrows his gaze.

Bin Laden?

No, uh, Putin.

Duh.

TK cracks open a Bud Light, proud sponsor of OCW and the 2022 Holiday Season. He cracks the reigns and heads due east, as evidenced by the compass that has shown you what direction they were headed the entire time. In moments they're in Russian airspace, and we know this because Bobby’s phone rings. Bobby pulls his phone out and we see it's an attempted video call from someone called "Sexy McDrunkdial". TK furrows his brow.

Who the fuck is that.

Bobby chuckles and accepts the video call. We see Sexy McDrunkdial himself, one Vladimir Putin.

Bastards. I have been using the Santa tracker and see you have invaded Russia. This will not stand.

Shit, Santana had a tracker in here the whole time?

I thought that was Weather Channel propaganda!

No, Bobby, those are Cheetos. Disgusting, greasy, get your hands filthy, stuck in your teeth, poofy Cheetos cheese curls.

Right. You're right.

Ahem.

What do you want, you goddamn human foreskin-looking motherfucker?

This will not stand. Goodbye.

Putin does not hang up, instead pressing a bright, shiny, ominous red button. He smiles back at Bobby and TK.

I have just deployed a nuclear missile to intercept you.

Fucking cool!

What? Really, Bobby?

Look, getting nuked is how I always wanted to go out anyhow.

Well, fuck that, they'll strip us of our Tag Titles if we die!

Bobby hangs up on Putin, looking dead serious.

Not fucking cool.

In the distance we see a bright light careening toward the sleigh. Bobby and TK look at each other, grimly, then towards the oncoming ICBM, facing the very end in front of them. TK turns and in so pulling a switchblade from his pocket, cuts Santa free.

The sleigh's all yours, Santana, and you watch what happens here today.

Tell them all.

Tell them the Bastards fucking did it.

And we'll do it again!

We better not get fucking coal next year, ya hear me?

Just as the Missile is going to make contact with the sleigh, Bobby leaps onto the nose, holding it, and sending its trajectory topsy turvy! As he does, TK leaps, grabbing a tail fin by where its ankle would be if rockets had those! With the sheer implausibility of anything ever in wrestling history, making it the most awesome goddamn thing you have ever witnessed, TNGB deliver a

RAINBOW LASER DEATH SEQUENCE

to an intercontinental ballistic missile! Both Bastards ride the nuke as it plummets to the Earth, having, in the end, saved Santa. With immense force, Bobby and TK impact the missile so deep into the earth it hits magma and melts harmlessly before detonating, also causing a massive earthquake in Kamchatka (go play Risk). The dust settles around the massive hole that Them No Good Bastards caused with their devastating finisher to an intercontinental ballistic missile. Bobby is the first one of the Bastards you see.

We’re Them No Good Bastards, but these Them Silly Little Bitches. No sexism, for fucks sake, we aren't women-bashing Neanderthals we're defending champions, if our opponents don't want us beating women they shouldn't come to the ring. We didn't ask anyone to put us up against two superficial OnlyFans models without the fucking gumption to deliver the goods. Do we get around? TK, sure, who I fuck is my business, and all the Bastards will tell you I'm hard to get ahold of because of business. We don't value you for how you look or whatever allure you think you carry, we don't buy your brand of darkness so vanilla it's the dorkness. Do you know who buys into Safe Haven? Nobody! Little girls root for TNGB because we accept all challengers and look like human muppets. Moms root for TNGB because dad is so dull he just can't cut the mustard.

TK walks out from the dust and looks at Bobby.

Shit, Bro, you’re still going that hard?

Bobby looks grumpy.

Hell nah.

I can tell the "ladies,"-

Making air quotes while rolling his eyes, TK doesn't miss a beat.

-that OCW management has chosen to be the next sacrifice to the Bastardly Father, aren't on our level of competition. We're coming to Hardwired To Self Destruct to show OCW fans our Championship prowess. Goddamn right, by laying a punishing beatdown on two super sour, lollipop princesses, who shouldn't even be in OUR ring. It doesn't matter if you're ranked number one or two on OCWs top ten list. we'll break'em and make'em pay. These two miserable cunts want to come in and act like their false profit is any more than the Bastardly Father whore, fine. That means jack shit. We do ours by proving it in the ring.

TK looks off into a side camera.

Isn't that right, Champ?

Looking back into the hard camera TK continues.

Sure, they use their super spooky sex charm to get into their opponent's heads. The thing about that is, a, I can have any bitch I want, look at me, I'm as fine as frog hairs, and Bobby Bourbon is a powder keg of love. B, Haven is undersized and made to fucking order.

Cooked.

Them No Good Bastards do their signature no-look fist bump, getting the little Bastards at home hyped.

We're going to make you pay for every miss-step with spitful brutality. Who knows maybe they can show some courage, maybe even fight back a little, but at the end of the day, AND STILL will be the words that'll haunt their OCW memories. For Phoenix and Desdemona,-

Bobby is seen behind TK shaking his head and rolling his eyes, hearing their opponent's names.

-December 31st isn't one of those moments where they're going to be able to hug one another and have some foolhardy feeling of success. Nah, they're catching all the smoke and with a flash of light Haven will be gone.

Bobby jumps in to stop TK from ending Haven's Tag Team career.

Speaking of gone. I'm hungry, let's get out of here and get some food.

Nodding his head to Bobby, TK follows Bobby’s lead, as the scene fades to black.