Post by Thunder Knuckles on Sept 26, 2021 23:23:30 GMT -5
The subtitles on your screen read “Sometime in the year 33 AD”. Them No Good Bastards phone booth comes crashing down from the sky. Yes, the clouds separated. Yes, there’s red lighting. Relax, our budget can hold all the special effects.
SHHHIIIIIITTTTT!!!!!!
Goddamn, man, you have got to get this shit figured out.
Bobby shakes his head in agreement. They landed just outside of Jerusalem in a place known as Golgotha. Bobby after shaking his head notices what’s going on.
Oh, shit. No, no, we have to stop this!
What?
Jesus Christ!
Quit fucking overreacting and tell me, already.
No, TK, lookit!
Bobby points over to his right, TK’s left. TK looks over and sees someone he hasn’t see in a while.
Holy shit. If it isn’t JC, himself. Wonder what he’s doing?
Bobby looks at TK baffled.
Do you not see him carrying a cross right now?
Well, isn’t that what the fuck he does? What’s not goddamn normal about this? Just like the Easter Bunny, ya know? The Easter Bunny hides eggs and shit. Jesus carries a fucking cross everywhere he goes. Everyone knows that, Bobby. Duh.
Jesus puts the cross down. TK and Bobby watch as Roman soldiers nail him to it, then hoist him.
Oh, fuck me!
Yeah.
We should do that to someone in a match!
Bobby rubs his chin and crooks an eyebrow.
Yeah, we could.
Bobby and TK walk up the hill.
Jesus, this place smells terrible.
What do you want from me? You should have brought Febreeze.
Jesus looks directly at Bobby and TK.
What are you boys doing here? I walk with you and am with you always, no reason you need to come here now.
The crowds all look gobsmacked at the interaction between Christ and TNGB.
Hey Jeezum Creezum.
Dad damnit, that’s not my name. And all the locals think you’re angels now. Thanks. You’ve officially become biblical canon.
Bobby and TK exchange a no-look fistbump then air guitar with their tag team title belts.
Look, all the malarkey you’ve been up to traveling through time, why don’t you be a better catalyst?
Whaddya mean?
Well, you’re keeping history correct in terrible ways. Ask yourselves, what would I do?
WWJD?
Bingo.
I think I get what you’re laying down. TK, c’mon, we don’t need to stick around here.
Yeah, you guys should skedaddle before the bible starts getting really weird and has ties to pro-wrestling.
You mean…
Jesus rolls his eyes.
Jesus: Yeah, I mean besides David and Goliath. I swear, dad rolls his eyes whenever he hears some promoter or announcer or wrestler bring that one story up. There are plenty of violent and cool happenings in the Bible.
Such as…
TK looks around and then gestures towards the cross.
Oh don’t mind me, I’ll be fine, I just need a few days.
Three?
Oh, c’mon! Spoiler alert!
Sorry, later bud.
Yeah, I’ll just be hanging out here for a bit. See you ‘round.
Later, JC. Wait… Fuck… If anyone can answer this it’s you and shit.
Go on.
Do you know why Lycana is relevant?
Jesus smiles at TK and says one phrase.
Meh.
Yeah, I fucking figured.
Oh, TK.
Yeah, dog.
Watch out of glitter.
What?
Just watch out for glitter.
Bobby and TK leave Golgotha much to the awe of many and make their way to the time machine. They both crowd in with TK confused as to why Jesus warned him about glitter.
You want me to do this?
Nah, I think I got it this time.
Bobby starts mashing random buttons again.
You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?
Pressin’ buttons.
The phone booth starts to be surrounded by the familiar red lighting with the portal forming below it. The phone booth drops out of existence with a flash of lightning. In another flash, the phone booth crashes from the sky once again this time on a street corner, which is far more modern-looking than ancient Jerusalem.
Fuck me! I hate that goddamn part! I can’t fucking wait for this bullshit to be over.
Bobby and TK step out and see the streets are pretty crowded. Bobby walks over to a newsstand.
That’s all old news.
I’m figuring out where and when we are.
What’s the fucking deal, did we get to stop Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 3 yet?
No…
Bobby’s eyes go wide.
We’re in Dallas. It’s November 22nd, 1963.
So, the day the Cowboys won a game or something?
Nah, c’mon, we’re going to make a positive change in history today! C’mon!
Bobby and TK walk down the block and look up.
This is the spot.
A book warehouse? What, you want to read Green Eggs and Ham again?
That book is a gem.
I hate fucking Dr. Seuss, his art is so goddamn unrealistic.
Maybe they have Curious George.
TK’s eyes go wide, and a single tear of joy wells up in his left eye.
Now that’s a great work of fucking fiction.
As TK finishes the sentence the deleted scene ends.
Bobby and TK are standing outside Soldier Field after being attacked by Riddle and Cashe post-match at night one of Relentless.
Okay. Riddle wanted to prove he’s not the bitch-ass lame fuck that we took him for. Cashe wanted to show OCW faithful he’s not scared like he said before. That’s all cool and shit. Except the only thing you fucking proved is you can take out the Bastards after a grueling match. Unannounced. Again, that’s cool and shit. We’d have fucking done it to you.
TK smirks.
However, there’s no point in showing up to goddamn UWL to stop you from falling short is there, Mr. Ten Count? I’m glad you boys had your moment of solidarity. The last two fucking idiots who had the same moment of solidarity choked.
You wouldn’t have even had your moment of solitary if it wasn’t for those last two idiots.
You know, there are two big reasons why Cashe and Riddle aren’t going to fucking win at Masters of the Macabre.
Oh, yeah?
Yup. Reason fucking one, Cashe. Reason goddamn two, Riddle.
Oh, I was thinking there were two, very different, even bigger reasons they aren’t going to win.
What’cha got, Bobby?
Bourbon and Knuckles.
Bobby and TK clack their OCW Tag Team Championships together.
Goddamn, right!
Oh, shit, I almost forgot, TK, they shot promotional material!
I have to fucking admit. It’s been a hot minute since someone had the fortitude to do that.
TK looks dead into the camera winking for two very beautiful fools.
This fucking guy Riddle, man. Can you believe this fucking clown? I don’t dwell in the realm of life. Give me a fucking break. Fucking. Cock. Nozzle. I am the balls that chaff the inner thigh. I am Jack’s fucking useless aggression, the scary fuck that beats off to two teens fucking in a cabin. Lame.
So, dude pulled a full-on 80’s slasher flick?
Who fucking cares?
So, dude pulled a full-on 80’s slasher flick.
TK looks at Bobby like he had just answered that question.
I had to double-check, when you said he masturbated to teens in a cabin I wasn’t sure if he was just in his shed getting away from the wife and kids for a minute or two for some swift release. Look, we get that for you to create you need to reach into your pants and jiggle your jangle for a hot minute until you’ve sweat out a shot of semen. You are the tumbler that shakes the lottery draw, you’re the fish fry at the YMCA or some such, you are the meatball in the sub, blah blah. It was awesome of you to quote my pinned tweet except not sound as fucking cool and nowhere as effectual. We, sir, are Them No Good Bastards, and thou has roused a helluva beating coming your way, and not the kind you give your little Elvis when you need a mental vacation. Oh, TK, he called you a Numpty.
He fucking called you one too.
I know. If I knew what the fuck a numpty even was I suppose I’d take offense. What is it with Brits and either sounding really fucking cool, or, more commonly, sounding like a kid bragging about riding a bike with no handlebars when they think they’re being clever? He told us to check out his resume, too! Zero fucks given, bud. We aren’t hiring, we don’t give a shit about your history, and how you fit in with Cashe when y’all spend time together at a bathhouse, that might have been good enough to get you into the ring with us, but it means fuck all when we get to work and crumple you up. Your history is yours, and as far as we are concerned, come October ten, you definitely will be history.
All this fucking “I” talk coming from Riddle, Bro. There’s no fucking I in team Riddle. Unless you draw out the word “team” like a jackoff and find it exactly where you belong in the tag team division. Hold on.
TK gives the camera the one-minute finger with one hand and pulls out his notebook with the other. TK has Bobby turnaround to draw on his back. Using great teamwork like they always do. TK draws the word “TEAM” to visually show Riddle where the “I” is within the word team and shows it to the camera.
It’s right in the “A” hole, mother fucker.
You have both, to the fucking letter, followed the exact playbook that every fucking team that we have come across has followed. Dark brooding antisocial twit who thinks it’s a mystique when he’s really just the creepy loner at the local Panera bread eating alone. Shit, you spied on kids in the woods, that’s not dark or diabolical, that’s just weird. Woah, hold up!
Bobby pulls out his phone and puts it to his head. He looks at the camera.
Oh, damn, it’s Cliche! They’re calling for you, and they say hello.
Bobby puts his phone away.
So, the guy who’s as chilling as a down comforter who belongs on a sex offender registry is teaming up with the complete fucking nob-job who thinks anything that comes out of his mouth is an insult or a dig. Cashe, let’s us learn you some ABC’s right now. Pay attention, this is where it gets cool. Angry Bastards crush doofuses expertly for giving hardcore incels just kindling looking mighty naughty on Pay-Per-View. Quote, Raven shat the ultimately vociferous wimps, XWF yippee zoom. I know that trailed off towards the end, but unlike Jason Cashe, it didn’t trail off from the fucking start. So, we have weirdo and the dumb, which is another better name for these fools than whatever they’re calling themselves. Then they went ahead and did what everybody else has done so far and jumped Them No Good Bastards. It was at this moment, you should know, you fucked up.
On October tenth you limp dick bitches said you're coming to fight. We’re not. We’re here to eradicate the tag team division, not just here, but all fucking places of shit-tier teams like Riddle and Cashe. Forced together to try to take the Bastards down. They must not have told you the commandments of the Ministry of Bastards. Bobby, take these boys to Sunday school.
TK flashes a truly monumental jerking-off hand gesture for these two “legends”.
Thou shall not fuck with the Bastards. Thou shall not think you’ve gotten the better of the Bastards. What you’ve both done is given all of the OCW fanbase the worst kind of gift you can give; false hope. Who gives a fuck if Bam Miller is going to beat up an XWF fan. Because of the two of you, we’re going to make every OCW fan cry. Big fat salty tears, everybody weeps into their popcorn and beer because some Bastards showed up and whooped the fuck out of two more bodies and proved an entire company wrong for casting any shadow of a doubt in us. We’ve been doing it all year long in the XWF, we’re going to keep doing it there and in the OCW, and who knows? The long and short of it is this is the Year of the Bastard, and you two chumps won’t even be remembered when they talk about our history, just another two bodies who followed in the failed footsteps of those before them.
TK pats Bobby’s shoulder in agreement.
OCW fans around the world better fucking rejoice! Because with Them No Good Bastards at the helm of their tag team division at least they saw greatness once in their goddamn pathetic, dull, lifetimes. When we stand across the ring from Cashe and Riddle I don’t expect to smell fear. Hell, no, I expect to smell fucking disappointment and goddamn depression. Because that’s how we’re leaving their, sent by Raven, feel-good story. With that said, fuck off!
Them No Good Bastards gives dueling middle fingers to both Jason and Cyrus, as the promo fades to black.