THE EGG BANDITS vs. WINDS OF CHANGE
Vince Howard. Ring. Microphone. You know what’s up.
Vince Howard: The following contest is scheduled for one fall…
“Banditstruck” begins playing over the arena speakers, as from the entryway approaches the team of Doozer and “Beautiful” Bobby Dean. Doozer stomps his way down the ramp, all business and ready to fight, while his partner happily whistles as he walks.
Vince Howard: At a total combined weight of 642 pounds, a… (sigh) total combined height of 12 feet 3 inches, and (visibly frustrated) …total combined age?!
That could very well be because he’s pushing a large flatbed cart, not unlike what you’d see at a big box hardware store. What’s on the cart? Oh, just an industrial tub of what looks to be marshmallow fluff. And when we say “industrial tub”, what we mean is “imagine someone sawed a refrigerator in half and filled it with sugary goo”.
Vince Howard: The team of Bobby Dean and Doozer… the EEEGGGGGGGGG BANDIIIIIIIITS!!
Hypothetically, if someone were to – say – build a giant penis cannon that could shoot people to the ring, this would be enough fluff to make sure they were well and truly lubricated for the ride.
You know, as a thought experiment. Totally an academic exercise.
Also there’s a ladle.
Nick Stuart: Two weeks ago, there was an altercation backstage between the eGG Bandits and Fighting For Nora…
As Nick speaks, there’s an inset replay of the event, showing Jonathan Rhine and a blue-masked moron being pelted with eggs and berries. It then switches to a shot from earlier tonight, when Paxton Ray found himself on the receiving end of an egg shower.
Nick Stuart: We heard from Fighting For Nora earlier this evening, and once again Bobby and Doozer made their presence felt, this time against Paxton Ray.
Richard Parker: I’m pretty sure he threatened murder. Does that make us accomplices?
Nick Stuart: I… no?
Vince Howard: And their opponents…
“I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go…” The beginning of Oingo Boingo’s classic “Dead Man’s Party” hits the PA system, and out from the back runs Baron von Blackberry. He stands at the middle of the entryway with his arms outstretched. Behind him, Joe Fontaine runs out in his bedazzled poncho while Sid Phillips simply marches out in his plain brown poncho with the calm of a man who only has one thing on his mind, and that is powerbombs.
Vince Howard: At a total combined weight of 480 pounds, and…
Vince glances at the rest of the card in his hand, decides that, no, he is in fact not reading this nonsense, and tears it in half.
Vince Howard: Accompanied to the ring by Baron Von Blackberry…
Joe raises his arms several times into the air to hype up the crowd, while Blackberry begins the walk to the ring. Joe and Sid slide into the ring together, while Blackberry walks around and hops up on the apron. He spins to place his back to the ropes, and holds his arms out with his palms out to pose. To his left and right, Joe and Sid climb up the turnbuckles to raise their arms for the crowd.
Vince Howard: “Tempest” Joe Fontaine… “Riot” Sid Phillips… The WIIIIIINDSSSSS OOOOOOF CHAAAAAAANGE!!
Nick Stuart: At Great American Nightmare, this young, upstart team…
Again, we get an inset replay of some of the events of the Winds’ match against the team of Nova and Garbage Bag Johnny.
Nick Stuart: …pulled-off what some called an upset when the beat the team of Nova and Garbage Bag Johnny to earn themselves a shot at the tag-team championships at UltraViolence, titles currently held by Baron Von Blackberry’s old running mate King Blueberry, and the revived Kings of Popsicles.
Hey, speak of the devil.
The first few riffs of Motley Crue’s “Knock ‘Em Dead Kid” hit the arena, as two figures in street clothes and fruit masks step out onto the stage. Reina Raspberry holds her championship belt slung over her shoulder, and the Blueberry has his strapped like a bandolier across his chest like a shitty Chewbacca.
Richard Parker: And speak of the devil.
We literally just said that, Richard!
They make no effort to move beyond the bounds of the stage; after all they’re here just to observe. And true to their word, there are no mannequins in sight to rattle Joe Fontaine.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: Doozer and Fontaine to start for their respective teams. What some fans might not realize is that almost twenty years ago Doozer held tag-team championship gold in the Legends of Wrestling promotion with Joey Malone, the father of Joe Fontaine.
Richard Parker: If anything that puts the Bandits at an advantage. They know that Phillips has only one bullet in his gun. They know first-hand the knowledge that Malone passed on to his son. And if you add that with the tricks they’ve picked up hanging around that no-good, rotten, egg-sucking, two-faced, old-dumpster-juice-on-a-mid-July-sidewalk-in-Arizona asshole Jiles…
There’s a pause.
Nick Stuart: Richard?
Richard Parker: Sorry. I said his name and felt a little something come up in my throat.
It’s your typical start of a match, despite the overall weirdness of the two teams involved. There’s some circling, and then some attempts to feel each other out, but not in a weird, creepy way. Eventually some punching happens. Maybe a little light kicking. Maybe a little heavy kicking. But the size discrepancy between Doozer and Fontaine means you already know how this goes.
Nick Stuart: And it’s not just knowledge that the Winds have to contend with. Sid Phillips is a big boy, but Joe Fontaine is still giving up almost 90 pounds to the smaller of the two Bandits, a man who has been wrestling longer than Fontaine has been alive.
Richard Parker: Dusk’s not in this match, Nick.
Nick Stuart: Will you stop?
Richard Parker: And I’m pretty sure that guy’s been wrestling longer than any of us have been alive. Oh, hey! I just thought of this one… If Atken gets his hands on him, then do we have to change his name from Doozer to – wait for it – Gluezer?
Apologies to anyone who made this joke already. Or anyone reading it now, to be honest.
Nick Stuart: I’m not answering that.
Seeing his partner gain the early upper hand, Bobby hops down from the ring apron and dips his ladle into what can accurately be described as a metric fuckload (that’s a one-quarter shit-heap if we’re using imperial measurements, which we’re not) of marshmallow fluff in a large plastic drum. It slips from his hand and slowly sinks to the bottom, Terminator 2’ing the entire way.
Doozer lifts up Fontaine for a gorilla press, but the smaller man slips behind him and lands a staggering superkick when the Old Bull turns around.
Bobby dunks one of his arms in the fluff up to the elbow.
Nick Stuart: Fontaine showing off that agility early. A second kick lands, and…
Richard Parker: No way this is going to work.
Nick Stuart: The Tempest-
Richard Parker: (interrupting) Worst Shakespeare play.
Nick Stuart: -trying to hoist Doozer up on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry pickup.
The move, the Malonestrom – his father’s finisher – doesn’t connect, as Doozer very easily uses his size and strength to muscle his way back to the ground. He spins Fontaine, and then drops him immediately with a hard right hand.
Nick Stuart: I know we’ve said it already, folks, but it bears repeating – Doozer teamed with Joey Malone, the two won gold together, so it’s safe to say he’s going to have any of his old partner’s tricks scouted.
The Boston Bruiser shakes his head and wags a finger at his younger opponent before dragging him up to his feet by the arm, and pulling him in for a snap scoop powerslam.
Nick Stuart: Bobby Dean back up on the ring apron, offering his hand for a tag. Looks like he wants a piece of the action as well.
Richard Parker: Yeah, except his hand is covered in marshmallow. Though to be fair, it’s probably not the worst white sub-
Nick Stuart: Do NOT finish that sentence!
Doozer, now firmly in control, sees his partner with his hand out for a tag, then shakes his head and points to Bobby’s other arm – his clean arm. The Beautiful man from Honalee obliges, offering his other hand for Dooze to tag while licking away at the last of the fluff until it’s gone.
Richard Parker: This was not on the list of things I expected to see tonight.
Nick Stuart: And yet, here we are, Richard.
Richard Parker: And yet… here we are.
Dean traps Fontaine’s head between his ample arms and even-ampler bosom, cinching his younger opponent into a remarkably quick snap suplex, and then in DEFIANCE OF GRAVITY AND GOD’S LAW the bigger Bobby floats over.
Nick Stuart: Textbook suplex delivered by Beautiful Bobby Dean! I know it’s sometimes easy to forget because of the antics he and his stablemates sometimes get up to…
Richard Parker: (exaggerated gagging noises)
Nick Stuart: …but that doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t have a legitimate in-ring pedigree.
Dean transitions into a mount, then sticks both of his index fingers into his mouth, savoring the last drops of marshmallow fluff that may be caked under his nails, before unloading on the hapless Joe Fontaine with the dreaded double wet willie, a move that is illegal in 13 states and punishable by jail time in Nebraska.
Richard Parker: You were saying, Nick?
Nick Stuart: I mean… my point still stands.
Instead of going for the cover, Bobby rises to his feet, leaving Joe to continue flailing his arms around his head as if under siege by a swarm of angry, Karen-esque bees. Sure, the bees may be imaginary, but they ALL want to speak to your manager right goddamn now, or ELSE.
At the top of the ramp, there is a whispered exchange between two weirdos in fruit masks. Or, more accurately, one weirdo and someone too loyal for her own good.
Nick Stuart: That move may have been unorthodox, but it put Bobby Dean in a position to press the advantage.
And press Joe Fontaine.
Literally.
Just squish the shit out of him.
Figuratively.
Maybe.
What we mean by that, is while Joe was flopping about like a fish trying to rid himself of The Big Ick (which is an actual parasite that fish can get, only that one’s shorthanded as “ich” and is just as gross), Bobby hit the ropes, rebounded, and connected with a move that is commonly known as a seated senton. Fans of a certain video review podcast that may or may not exist in this reality would refer to it as a “big whoopsie”, but for the purposes of this match let’s say that the young Mr. Fontaine just got all up in dat ass.
Again, literally.
Richard Parker: I think I can hear all of Fontaine’s organs screaming.
No, that’s just all the air being violently driven from his body. Like what happens when you cook a lobster. With your butt. As one does.
I’m so sorry.
Nick Stuart: Referee Elvis Nixon with the count!
If you think Sid Phillips is going to stand idly by and watch his partner pressed like a flesh tortilla underneath the biggest Bandit, then you would be mistaken. Which is why he’s in the ring, and making his way towards his partner.
Hey, pop quiz: how many moves does Sid Phillips know?
ONE!
Thanks, timely referee count! Alas, it does no good here, because Bobby is a thicc lad – dummy thicc, you might say – and has zero desire to be powerbombed. None. Not even a little.
TWO!
Is the actual number of moves Sid knows, but this is not the time for Exploding Cyclone Homicide anythings.
Nick Stuart: Sid Phillips trying to grapple Bobby Dean, but once more Bobby showing that deceptive agility by sneaking away, essentially breaking up his own pinfall!
With Bobby scurrying off and Elvis Nixon trying to shoo Sid Phillips out of the ring like a possum in a trash barrel (just tip the ring over, Elvis; he’ll scamper away at night on his own when no one is around), this provides an opportunity for Fontaine to pull himself up with the ropes for leverage. As soon as his partner is able to make a legal tag, Fontaine slaps skin with Phillips and brings the Padishah Emperor of Powerbombs into the ring.
And, naturally, the first thing he does is try to grab Bobby Dean again.
Nick Stuart: Sid Phillips in hot, and you know what he’s trying to do, Richard.
Richard Parker: Throw his back out?
It does not go well.
Richard Parker: Maybe herniate a disc?
The combination of sweat, marshmallow, kicking, and screaming is enough to prevent the Powerbomb Laureate from getting a hold. Bobby executes a picture perfect forward roll, and tags Doozer back in.
In the crowd, a local high school student decides to apply to Cal Tech and major in fluid dynamics.
Richard Parker: Get Freeman and Schwartz out here NOW! I need to know which universe this version of Bobby is from so I know to never go there!
Nick Stuart: Doozer back in, and we’re going to get a showdown of two heavy-hitters.
Bobby, fresh off a few displays of athletic prowess, goes right back to the fluff bucket, which is a phrase I’m adding to my daily lexicon.
The exchange that follows between the two generations of hosses is a burst of offense. There are no strikes from the Phillips camp; that would just be absurd. Here there are only powerbombs and despair, and the despair is really just code for “more powerbombs”.
In and amongst the Many Powerbombs of Sid Phillips, Doozer lands some heavy shots of his own. A spinebuster, backbreaker, and thundering belly-to-belly suplex all find their mark, but no matter how hard the two men smash each other (or smash the other into things) neither is able to hold the other down for very long.
But the Old Bull is wily, a veteran of the ring with more experience than his opponent has years of life, and tonight there is no quit in him.
Nick Stuart: Doozer trying to pick up Phillips, but Phillips fighting back!
Not with any actual wrestling moves, mind you.
Richard Parker: I don’t know if “flailing” counts as fighting back.
Nick Stuart: It’s certainly working, though.
Some space opens between the two men, and Sid Phillips gets an idea. He looks at Doozer, and then at his elbow, then back at Doozer, then… look, you get the idea. Outside the ring and seeing this all unfold, Baron Von Blackberry becomes more animated. He slaps the ring apron and punches the air as the thought of Sid doing an actual wrestling move becomes all consuming.
It should be noted, however, that he doesn’t Retcon Punch the air, because we’re only 6 months into the ReVival Era, and no one’s ready for any of us to break reality yet.
At the top of the ramp, King Blueberry and Reina Raspberry stand in rapt attention.
Phillips charges…
Nick Stuart: Oh.
Richard Parker: Well.
Nick Stuart: Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming.
Richard Parker: It was a nice idea while it lasted.
…grabs Doozer around the waist, and connects with a gutwrench powerbomb. Outside the ring, Blackberry kicks the dirt in frustration.
Rejuvenated from his snack, and a few minutes of recovery spent watching from the ring apron, Bobby Dean moves into action. After all, his partner is currently in trouble, and there’s a loyalty in the Bandit locker room that can’t be denied.
Nick Stuart: Both Bandits trying to wear down Phillips, but here comes Fontaine! Fontaine getting into position…
Smooth Joe Cool – which is the kind of nickname a man only gives himself – springboards to the top rope and launches himself feet first at Bobby Dean, laying him out with a blindside dropkick.
Nick Stuart: Fontaine trying to take out the illegal man, and Dean is down, but Doozer won’t just let this slide!
The Old Bull charges, absolutely drilling Fontaine with a running clothesline with enough force that both men tumble over the top rope to the outside. Elvis Nixon, torn between dealing with the situation outside the ring and the illegal Bobby Dean inside the ring, tries to regain control. He fails. But hey, at least he tried, and dammit that counts for something.
Richard Parker: Uh oh. I think Sid Phillips just saw his Christmas wish come true 5 months early.
Sid Phillips’ eyes go wide as the situation before him registers. There, on the mat, Bobby Dean rests on all fours, panting as he pushes himself to his feet. The crowd within the MGM Grand can sense it, seeing into the future as if staring collectively into a crystal ball, or perhaps the swirling maelstrom of the Time Vortex that roils at the heart of Anna Daniels’ TARDIS. Whatever the case, they know.
Nick Stuart: I don’t know if I have ever seen a man as eager as Sid Phillips right now, Richard.
Richard Parker: We’ve called Roxy Phoenix matches before, Nick, so let’s not get crazy with the hyperbole.
Professor Powerbomb, PhD. reaches a hand to the top of his singlet. The first strap goes down, then the second. The crowd reacts in kind. There are gonna be some kids made tonight for sure, you guys.
Nick Stuart: Bobby Dean has managed to elude Sid Phillips’ best move all night, but could this finally be the time.
Richard Parker: Correction – Bobby Dean has managed to avoid Sid Phillips’ ONLY move all night.
And then it happens. Phillips gets the Beautiful Man From Honalee into position, and channeling the energy of the great precursor powerbombs that came before, locks his arms around Bobby’s waist and lifts.
Impact in 5…
4…
3…
Nick Stuart: He’s done it! Sid Phillips has got Bobby Dean up!
Richard Parker: Only one way to go now.
Boom.
Baron Von Blackberry’s eyes go wide. At least, they probably do. Honestly who can tell what’s going on underneath that freaky-deaky sex mask of his.
Bobby Dean hits the mat. So does Elvis Nixon, the force of the impact is that strong. Joe Fontaine and Doozer, both climbing onto the ring apron, are knocked back to the arena floor. Even Baron Von Blackberry has to steady himself against the guardrail from the concussive shockwave that emanates out from the blast.
In the second row, a young boy’s hair will prematurely go white because of this move, and he will tell the story about that “bad mamma-jamma” Sid Phillips. That’s what he’ll say, too. “Bad mamma-jamma.” Because this child does not believe in potty words, and because the lines of mams for Sid to consensually jam will be out the door and around the block.
At the top of the ramp, far away from ground zero, the woman in the raspberry mask stands with her jaw agape. Her partner, the dipshit in blue, very obviously mouths the words, “Holy shit.”
Nick Stuart: Sid Phillips trying for the cover, but Elvis Nixon reminding him that Doozer is the legal man… And here comes the Old Bull!
Despite still being a bit oily from the Great Fluff Incident of 2022 – at this point, they’re gonna need to hose down the ring between matches – the Boston Bruiser descends on Phillips with a series of clubbing shots. Bobby, his self-preservation instincts still well and truly intact, rolls towards the bottom rope and safety.
Nick Stuart: The Bandits have still got some fight left in them. Doozer landing shot after shot, backing down Phillips…
Richard Parker: Was that a blind tag by Fontaine?!
Yup.
Nick Stuart: Doozer putting some distance between Phillips and himself. He charges in… Pop-up powerbomb by Phillips!
Richard Parker: And now Fontaine’s in!
Nick Stuart: The Old Bull is starting to regain his sens-OH! ONCE UPON A TIME IN FORTNITE!
Complete with the dab and everything.
Nick Stuart: Elvis Nixon to make the count! Joe Fontaine looking to pin the man that won tag-team gold with his father!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: The winners of this match… The Winds! Of! Change!
“Dead Man’s Party” kicks back into full swing as the post-match celebration begins in the ring. At the top of the ramp, King Blueberry offers a nod of respect and recognition before he and Reina Raspberry head back through the curtain.
Nick Stuart: And the streak continues for the team of Phillips and Fontaine, as they rack up their third straight win and cement their places as the number one contenders. I have to say Richard, I don’t know if we can call them upstarts any more.
Richard Parker: Look, I may have my issues with their leader – a man who probably enjoys the smell of porta potties on humid August afternoons…
Nick Stuart: Jesus.
Richard Parker: But the Bandits are veterans of this sport, and a win over them is an accomplishment in and of itself.
Nick Stuart: Fans, don’t go anywhere. We’ve got more action up ahead right after this message!