Bobo's BIG on Negative Reinforcement...

Hello, my intended...

Neige, Neige, Neige... What can I say? I guess you assume since hardly anyone can stomach watching your interviews you can get away with doubling up for the 'Quantity' Vote. It is to laugh. See, kid, I know what you're going through... You've got to take your big sissy all-hype self into a WRESTLING MATCH with an ACTUAL WRESTLER, and you're understandably a little rattled. This pleases me. Sure, I could buy into all that BS you talk about immunity to moves with that Woodstock the Snowman, but I won't... You know why?

Because I'm not going to be wrestling Woodstock... I'm going to be HURTING YOU. A LOT.

Mind you, I could go into how 'THOUGH' I am... I could even go into how TOUGH I am, but it's not really an issue. The issue is how tough YOU are, Mr. Smack-with-a-Snowboard-and-Run. I know the answer to that one, too... And I'm sure the fans do as well... I hear they've dubbed our match 'Snowman's Chance in Hell'. Heh. I guess you CAN'T fool the fans, after all.

Now, sure, you can cry all you want about camera tricks and whatnot... Your kick, and a smack with the snowboard is about the only moves in your 'Fighting Snowman' style. Sorry, not impressed. So to show what a sport I am, I'm going to give you a chance to 'dodge the bullet'. All you have to do is write one hundred times, "I will not let my mouth write checks my (censored) can't cash ever again" and I'll put you down quick with minimum permanent damage.

Yeah, I know you won't do that... You're so wrapped up in your own line of (censored) that you've actually deluded yourself into thinking you can actually knock me out... Must... Not... Laugh... Though I notice you've even got help when you DREAM of beating me, which shows you're not ENTIRELY out of your pea-pickin' little brain-freeze. Heh. Batman angles, he says... Fine, I can do Batman angles... KID! Do the Villain Angle Shot...

The Kamera tilts twenty degrees, showing Bobo in the classic 'crooked' shot of the old camp series...

Heh. So you see, I'm not exactly a GOOD person... But I'm going to ignore that and give you a GOOD BEATING. Okay, enough with the Villain Angle Shot...

The Kamera rights itself, and all's peachy-keen with the world.

Spiffy. Neige, I know you're counting the minutes until the end, just like I am... The critical difference between us though is that I'll have minutes AFTER the end. I'm going to bash you into a completely different SHAPE. FLAT. And after I've gotten bored with pounding your simple albino self into a White Shadow at my feet and finally pin what's LEFT, I'm going to run you up a flagpole. Just half-mast, though. Heh. You are an embarrassment to this fine sport, 'superstar', and it's high time you were educated about your place in the Big Picture. A Harsh Lesson, indeed, but necessary. I mean, a guy that prepares for a fight with me by attacking Fast Food workers and the poor mooks in the suits at Six Flags? PLEASE. I guess you're starting small or something... Who knows? It's a little late to try and learn how to 'work' NOW, though... Oh well.

You wanna talk about how I'm dated? Well, kid, at least I HAVE BEEN dated. Sure, the ladies tended to write up restraining orders after they met me... And sure, I started saving them time by carrying blank orders around for them... But I'm just a bit old-fashioned that way... What I'm not is an emotionally stunted twerp that's spent so much time in his momma's basement that he turned albino... What I'm NOT is a fake little poseur that could only hope to be in the game if it was the CRYING GAME.

Pisssssed, are you? Good. Nice lisp. However, your creative math could make me laugh... If I was able. See, there ARE some things you can do that I can't... Like stink up a promotion. I mean, really, first you pound on someone slinging that Mortician's Delight on a bun... Well, that wasn't bad - when I saw that movie. Sadly, your version wasn't quite as entertaining... Aww. Better luck on the NEXT rewrite. Lucky you got that big eraser... Heh.  As I've said, I am FIFTY times the wrestler you could EVER HOPE TO BE. To say that you're twice the wrestler I am, and thus one-hundred times better means you've forgotten the value for X in that little equation... No gold star for you. Again. You're zero for four on the ol' Gold Star Board... But I guess when you've been a failure as long as you have, it's tough to break character... Must... Not... Laugh...

We'll see what expires at Supercard, Snowbunny... Personally, I think it's going to be your contract.

You're welcome... See you -

HOLD IT!

GEEZE! What NOW?

What about Doc Plants?

What about him?

He mulched together a whole BUSHEL of catchphrases to insult you...

He did? Damn. Okay, let's address the Doc... Doc, you've got to be joking. I know you could MAIL in your match against these Agency dinks and snatch the titles for yourself and your childhood sweetie, but then I'd have to hear the voiceover artists (Must... Not... Laugh...) harangue about whether you two can co-exist...

Nobody CARES. You do, you say? See? Heh. Naturally, to differentiate ourselves from those 'other' feds, I'll have to intervene on behalf of the fans... Why? Because the fans are the real reason I do all those horrible things to Neige and similar lesser beings...

You haven't even fought him yet, Bobo...

Bah, you haven't been paying attention lately... But back on track, Doc, in all honesty if I wanted this warehouse to look like my childhood home, I'd put bars on the windows and doors and throw away the key until I could make a new one out of mattress springs... But I digress. While you paint a pretty picture of a young man's childhood - possibly from experience, who knows - I didn't have such a carefree existence as you extol. Luckily, I don't let the past hold me back... Chains, sure... Bars, sure... Hell, even electrified fences and guards with 'shoot-to-kill' orders... But not the past... y'know I'm beginning to see certain similarities betwixt us... I mutilated men in fights, you mutilated women for money... We both wear our old uniforms to remind us how we messed up in order to inspire ourselves to greater achievements... We both hang out with a pile of half fast refugees...

Alliance: HEY!

QUIET! And we both consider ourselves the top of the heap... Sure, I have the benefit of FACT, but I digress... Hell, if I didn't already hate your yellow guts worse than poison, I'd say we'd probably get along. But I got ENOUGH FRIENDS...

Alliance: HEY!

Hack: That WASN'T an insult, you guys...

ThatGuy: Shut up and get me a soda, benchwarmer.

Hack: (grumble grumble) What kind?

ThatGuy: Just keep bringing them to me until I tell you you got the right one...

EXCUSE ME?! This is MY segment... Kindly shut your filthy cakers!

Hank: Aren't WE the prickly pear? Emphasis on...

ENOUGH! For the love of CHRIST, can we be (censored) professionals!?

Hack: THERE'S something they haven't tried...

ThatGuy: Hey! Where's my SODA?

Hack: (grumble grumble)

This is getting pitiful.

What, just now?

Shut up and FILM. Where was I?

Running out of time...

GEEZE. Fine. Doc, this isn't over by a longshot... Just consider the time before we lock horns a stay of execution... It's interesting to know that you're 'rooting' for me, but don't think that such moral support will make me think twice about twisting your head off like a soda cap.

ThatGuy: Hey, that reminds me! Where's my SODA?

Hack: (grumble grumble)

....That's just sad. Really.

You're welcome... See you SOON.