BRANDON YOUNGBLOOD VS. BOBBY DEAN
In order to save time and energy Bobby Dean started making his way down to the ring during the prior segment. As such, when the feed jumps from Colton’s Crew to ringside it shows the radiant and rotund eGG Bandit already laboring up the ring steps while Joe Esposito’s “You’re the Best Around” booms throughout the arena.
Nick Stuart: Round One of the Seymour Almasy Invitational continues with Bobby Dean going up against last year’s winner, Brandon Youngblood. Surely a mismatch on paper, but with Brandon’s arm in the shape that it is in who knows?
Richard Parker: Dean is such a sloth. It’s admirable. It takes years of dedication to be as out of shape as he is.
At one point during Bob’s climb up the steps he desperately calls out to Ivan for some help with the ring ropes. The request is not obliged. Still, the Honaleean pushes through and manages to find the inside of the ring all by himself.
Maybe Bob had a little help from Elvis Nixon.
Vince Howard: Now inside the ring, from the humble home of Honalee, the owner of an incredible win loss record on Opposite Day, and Glory Hole of the eGG Bandits… BEAUTIFULLLLLLL BOBBBBBYYYYYYYY DEAAAANNNNN!
Also of note, Cancer and Coral escorted their Bandit brethren down to the ring in matching electric-blue tracksuits. However, they ignored Bob’s first plea for help because they were too busy avoiding Ivan while on their way over to the announce table.
Took the long way around.
Hence, why Bob desperately tried calling out to Ivan.
Nick Stuart: Looks like we’re going to have a few guests.
Richard Parker: Do they even make headsets that fit a forehead like that? I know we don’t have one down here.
That is true. There are only normal sized headsets at commentary. So, while both sit down, only Jiles joins the team. Coral doesn’t seem to mind so much, seeing as he’s just gotten back from the Dentist’s Office and all.
Cancer Jiles: What was that about Dollar Tree sunglasses!? You fucking crumb! Like I wasn’t going to find out. Now guess what?
Richard Parker: No. Please no. I take it back.
Cancer Jiles: Too late. I’m going to sit right here and root my buddy Bobby on.
Nick Stuart: Way to go, Rich.
Cancer Jiles: Tell me, did either of you cry as the last show went off the air? I figured you’d both be professionals, and at least wait until after the final in regard to the waterworks. Coral thought otherwise, and said that my glorious return to the MAIN EVENT and signature GOLDEN TICKET defense against a crumb like Colton was enough to trigger a salty discharge from one of you.
The Crownless King shakes his head no, signaling that he never said anything like that. He and everyone else are lucky he stopped shaking it when he did, or else a tornado might have broken out inside the GMH Yum! Center from the intense head winds he was so adamantly yet nonchalantly generating.
(General Manager Hanson)
Nick Stuart: How can you parade this man around like a trophy and act as if everything is honkey dory? Do you not have a heart? Do you not have a soul?
Cancer Jiles: Is that a trick question?
The principles are at the ready. And truly, this is quite the special moment. PRIME is blessed with A SECOND Cancer Jiles entrance with a Bandit, back to back. Would there be an attire change? Is this the Crump Plaza on March 27, 1988. WHAT THE WORLD IS WATCHING!
Russia One Newscaster and International Sports Correspondent Olga Karishnikov made it clear that ‘Beautiful’ Bobby Dean, while fat, disgusting, out of shape, a waste of space, a waste of breath, the sole reason for the Polar ice caps melting because of belches and farts from Dine and Doordashing used oil from KFC locations close to USS Octane ports, The Next Spokesperson For Type 2 Diabetes, and Unlikely’s Wrestling T-Shirt Depot’s Silver Medalist for Wrestler of the Year 2021, was the stone cold HoytDuel lock of the week to advance in the Almasy…because his opponent was not going to show. Because he is sobbing uncontrollably. Because his colostomy bag made the big boom boom and what’s inside is glued to the grout lines of bathroom tiles. Because he’s in mortal fear.
Ivan Stanislav and Cancer Jiles. What wonderful company for the man who is not coming out.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE
LET THE GALAXY BURN
From the very start of Bloodsport (World Domination) by HEALTH, Brandon Youngblood surges from the curtain and into the well of sound filling the KFC Yum! Center. Through the blinding blue and white strobing light cutting through the darkness, the Tower of Babel powerwalks, his eyes trained forward, an oppressive scowl of intensity a hallmark painting his face. The scratches, the swelling, the battle wounds, all evident before and during a warm autumn night in Chicago are now gone or faded. While not grown back in full, the goatee and mustache features prominent on his face. Then, there’s the big ass Gronk arm brace covering the entirety of his left arm.
Stanislav rises to his feet, irate at the very presence of this beaten, scolded dog. The audacity to even dare show his cowardly face after UltraViolence! And while Bobby Dean has flashbacks to the Almasy last year, when he OF COURSE faced The Tower of Babel, before his record needed expunged because he finds being below someone who once was in a tag team called Sex & Money unacceptable to his sense of self, all Salt Shoes Jiles can do is look over to Stanislav, T-Shades and platinum locks on point (because they always are, what, don’t you read?), offer a smirk, and ask a simple question.
Cancer Jiles: First time?
Youngblood’s shoulders sway with the bravado of his BMF walk, a spotlight lighting his path. The defending Almasy Invitational champion is quick down the ramp, his gait swinging him around the arena floor, to the ring steps. There is no slowdown as his feet pound the steel, stepping between the ropes and exploding upright. Once inside, he begins pacing around the outside perimeter of the ring, his eyes locking onto The Man From Honalee, all as Vince Howard makes his announcement.
Vince Howard: His opponent…hailing from Bandera, Texas by way of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada… weighing in at 265 pounds… he is…THE 2022! SEYMOUR ALMASY! INVITATIONAL! CHAAAAAAAMPION! He is…BRAAAAAAAANDON! YOUNGBLOOOOOOOOOD!
The lights return, and as they do, the Suplex Daddy readies himself in an amateur stance, his hands on his thighs, a snarl of disdain curling his lips. No look toward Stanislav. Nothing toward Jiles. His sights are set on only one man; Bobby Dean.
And more than anything, he wants to get him more than a pound of flesh to make some bacon tonight.
Coral Avalon, while present for all this, is here for moral support. And also, well, he’s got the obligation. Maybe it will get him a fifteen second reprieve from forehead jokes? Or maybe, just maybe, there’s a small part of him thinking about the what if of Bobby Dean doing what most would think unthinkable? That maybe The Bandits being three truly DOES mean ALL of them reaching their peak powers.
Robert, rotund as ever, and beautiful as ever, looks across the ring at his opponent and… yawns.
Nick Stuart: Seems like Bob is ready for war.
Richard Parker: The Bandit way.
Youngblood, even with Yanni Dean, tweedle dee, tweedle dumb, and Coral’s forehead down by the ring, remains as focused as ever. It could also be he’s mesmerized by the fact that Bob’s chin still hasn’t stopped echoing from the prior yawn. But, for the sake of argument and the ounce of sanctity in this match, Youngblood, and his robotic arm remain unphased.
Nick Stuart: I still can’t over the contraption on Brandon’s left arm and how he’s out here competing tonight.
Cancer Jiles: My bet is the Winter Soldier is really fine, and he’s just using that thing as his excuse for when he loses to Bobby.
Richard Parker: How much?
The former two time Universal Champion and last year’s Almasy winner moves in, but Bobby has been around the block, and somewhat quickly, at least quickly for him, is able to lean between the top two ropes which brings Elvis Nixon in between the two.
Cancer Jiles: I taught him that.
Richard Parker: How to be a coward?
Cancer Jiles: No, Crumblood already knew that one.
Richard Parker: I hate you so much.
Bobby begs Elvis to make Brandon leave the building. Youngblood, being the reasonable man that he is, agrees to meet them halfway and retreats back to his corner. The Honaleean postures as if he’s won the match, actually turning his back to Youngblood in order to get a modicum of adoration from his brethren.
It doesn’t come.
Cancer Jiles: TURN AROUND YOU IDIOT!
The warning is too late. Youngblood, thirsty for the prize, swoops in and shoulder blocks Bobby while he’s got his back turned and between the ropes. The thunderous impact would’ve caused a normal man to shit himself on the spot. However, Robert Dean is no ordinary man. Instead, he just goes thump onto the outside.
Nick Stuart: GOOD GOD THE IMPACT!
Richard Parker: That’s going to leave a mark. Literally. Maybe a ditch, or a crevice would be a better word for it. Crater even. Oh, and Jiles, didn’t you make it to the finals of this thing last year? Who’d you lose to again?
Cancer Jiles: I’ll tell you, but then we get to find out if your skull would crack like an egg if Coral used it to amper against his forehead. We can even do the bit for the Halloween special aboard the USS Octane. Deal?
Youngblood drops down to the mat and rolls under the bottom rope. He lands a few boots to Bobby as Elvis Nixon begins to count.
Richard Parker: Why don’t you go and help your friend out?
Cancer Jiles: You know why.
Richard Parker: Because if you interfere in this match you get fired?
Cancer Jiles: Yes.
Richard Parker: Coward.
Eventually, Youngblood helps Bob back up to his feet, and for his gratitude is met with a sudden thumb to the eye. The Tower of Babel reels back in agony because let’s be honest, who knows where that thumb has been, and during this time of peril Bobby grabs Brandon’s good arm and slams it onto the edge of the ring apron. He then grabs that same arm again, and whips it into the ring post. A huff and a puff later, and Bobby rolls Younglood back into the ring. Once back inside, Bobby goes right back to work on Youngblood’s unbraced arm by plopping down and locking in an arm bar. A sloppy, mostly a rest move and nothing too strenuous or dangerous, wrong arm arm bar.
Nick Stuart: Say, is it me or is Bobby working over the wrong arm?
Richard Parker: Seems like it.
Bob points to his head as if to say he is smart by taking advantage of Brandon’s ailments. While doing this, he accidentally releases the arm bar. However, instead of rolling away to safety, Youngblood stays put and keeps his good arm extended in case Bobby wants to reapply the hold.
Cancer Jiles: IT’S THE WRONG ARM YOU IDIOT!
This time around Bobby hears the warning. He looks down at Brandon, and before reapplying the hold asks him which arm is the one that is hurt. Brandon kindly informs him it’s the one with a giant brace. More importantly, Brandon tells Bob that he’s sorry for what comes next.
Cancer Jiles: Shit.
Youngblood easily wiggles his way free from Bob’s girth, which is impressive in and of itself especially when you take the bad left arm into account. He then quickly gets to his feet, and lands a series of amateur wrestling moves ending with a Back Wheel Trip that leaves Robert in a total shit heap.
Nick Stuart: The impact!
Richard Parker: I bet that broke some part of the ring.
Cancer Jiles: SHIT.
Elvis Nixon goes to check in on Bobby, making sure he wants to continue. Luckily for Bob, he is panting so badly he can not speak. Youngblood meanwhile stalks around the ring, moving that mechanical arm of his around as if he’s about to test his and its strength. Bob starts to shuffle to his feet, and would kill for a fresh breath of air. Youngblood comes up from behind, and wraps his arms around Bob as best as he can.
Nick Stuart: He’s not gonna…
The former two time UNIVERSAL CHAMPION and winner of last year’s ALMASY tournament goes to hoist Bob up for a simple German Suplex, and when he does that brace of his buckles like it were attached to one of Young Forest’s legs. Youngblood, being the super dynamo that he is, still lands some of the German. Bobby goes backwards, but it’s more to the side, and more importantly, he winds up bouncing Elvis Nixon clean out of the ring.
Richard Parker: These guys cheat even when they aren’t trying to.
Cancer Jiles: The Bandit way.
Youngblood gets up first, since, well since he’s up against Bobby Dean and there isn’t a fresh funnel cake down at ringside to stir the senses. He looks over his left arm, and the brace that is going to need an oil change at the very least. He does not like what he sees, nor feels for that matter. He tries to ball his fist, which turns out not to be a good idea. The pain is real. Tangible. He will not be able to do that again.
Not to Bobby Dean at least.
Speaking of Bobby Dean, well, he’s still trying to get upright. It will probably take a few more seconds, but luckily for Bobby, Brandon has noticed that Elvis Nixon is in the third row, and not moving. Youngblood starts to yell at Jiles and Coral to get him and roll him back in the ring. To which they respond by both holding their hands up high as if to say they aren’t allowed to interfere.
While Brandon is arguing with the Bandits, and trying to ignore the radiating pain emanating from his left arm, and there is no referee in the ring, Bobby, while down on one knee, hits a low blow that instantly drops Youngblood to the canvas.
Cancer Jiles: STUFF HIM! STUFF HIM NOW!
The way Brandon falls is not good. Not for a guy who doesn’t want to get stuffed anyway. He’s kind of slumped over, clutching at his marbles with his one good arm while the other one dangles in the wind. Bobby is standing over him, and they are near the ropes so he can use them to leverage the taller Youngblood.
Richard Parker: Well, at least his arm doesn’t hurt anymore.
Nick Stuart: This doesn’t look good for the tournament’s defending champion.
Jiles is too excited to speak. His hand is reached out, and is rubbing Coral’s forehead as if it were a rabbit’s foot. One, that’s one big rabbit’s foot. Two, Jiles’ hand looks like a baby’s hand against Coral’s forehead.
It is comical.
Not as comical as…
…Bobby reaches down, grabs Youngblood by his ears.
And he stuffs him. Bobby Dean stuffs Brandon Youngblood’s head down his trunks. Maybe if his nuts weren’t in his throat, and his left arm was working, but neither were true. Worst of all, since Bobby did have the leverage, and did want to continue on, and did want the power of three to mean more than then Bandit’s were just charming….
Cancer Jiles: DEANER FUCKING WEINER!!! OH MY GOD HE PLANTED HIM! THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING!
Richard Parker: The top of the building is going to be a busy place tonight. I can’t believe it.
Nor can Bobby. Youngblood is laying on the mat. He’s done. Bobby rolls over, hooks the leg deep, and….
There’s no fucking referee.
Richard Parker: Don’t even think about it. Either of you. You don’t want to get fired, do you? HAHAHAHA! How fitting!
Out from the back, yellow face paint and all, is HEAD PRIME senior referee Timo Bolamba. He is absolutely racing his way down to the ring. Like, he’s running down there as if he’s about to meet someone who is going to offer him a total redo with Eddie Cross. And even though he gets down there as quickly as possible, and even though he slides perfectly under the bottom rope, and is in the exact perfect position to count the pin…
Cancer Jiles: What the fuck was that shitass count!?! I could have made a fucking sandwhich during that count! BOLAMBA! YOU SCREWED US AGAIN!!!
Seeing red, not Ivan, but actual red, Jiles throws his headset at Richard Parker, and tries to enter the ring. Luckily, Coral is there to keep him from doing anything stupid. Bobby doesn’t know what to do. No one has ever kicked out of the Deaner Weiner, partly because no one has ever really suffered its wrath.
Richard Parker: I don’t care, but no matter what happens thank God he is gone.
Nick Stuart: Agreed.
Bobby, still in disbelief, looks at Timo like he’s supposed to be telling him what to do next. Coral is occupied with Jiles. Ivan has a small smile across his face. Dick and Nick are still happy that Jiles is no longer part of the commentary team.
And for Brandon Youngblood…
The same Brandon Youngblood who won this tournament last year. The same one who just got stuffed like a turkey. Well, he has come to, and the singlet straps have come down.
Nick Stuart: Say Goodnight to Bobby.
Richard Parker: It was a good run.
Youngblood, seemingly pain free from his trip to the dark side, is up on his feet. So is Bobby, but Bob doesn’t know about Brandon. So, in order to fix that, Youngblood spins Bobby around and with his battered arm lights Bobby’s chest up with a single, precise, ferocious, Nemean Lion knife edge chop. The severity knocks the soul and mayonnaise clean out of Bobby Dean.
Sure as fuck the will to keep on fighting.
Nick Stuart: That was right over Bob’s heart. It was like Youngblood was trying to kill him!
Richard Parker: Maybe he killed him with the initial shock, and then brought him back to life with the chop. Like he used the chop as a defibrillator.
Nick Stuart: Maybe.
Youngblood drops down and covers Bobby. Jiles screams out in agony, while Coral stops his lazy attempt to charge the ring. Ivan sneers. Nick and Dick fistbump since their bracket is still intact.
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: Here is your winner, Brandon Youngblood!
Timo raises Brandon’s arm in victory. The good one. The one Bob was working over earlier in the match.
PRIME officials move in to tend to Elvis Nixon in the third row.
Cut to commercial.