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PULP BOOKERMAN
Episode 8

No long intro today. It's one a.m. here in exotic Sweden, and I need to get up early tomorrow. So all you're gonna get is this:

Pulp Bookerman is a parody of Pulp Fiction with wrestling characters. Go read episodes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7 if you haven't already. Seriously.

Parts of todays episodes come from the mind of some one called E. Shafer, aka Sephiroith. Most of it's MINE!!! ALL MIIIIINE!!!, though.

No smartass comments to Massa Chris, so he won't have to waste time writing a smart-ass comment of his own in my intro. He might do it anyway though, because he's a crazy kid. (Do you REALLY think I would be so predictable--D'OH!! - CRZ)

OK, that's all I think. Let's get it on.

PULP BOOKERMAN
Episode 8.

We are back at Hollywood Hogan's luxurious house, where we see Eric and Kevin entering. It looks like they're. . . dancing? Oh, my mistake: Eric is just dragging Kevin along, as it seems his knees've gone out again. Eric is wearing Kevin's overcoat. Once in the house, Kevin manages to stand up, with the aid of a wall. They're looking at it other for a while, without saying anything.

Kevin: Is that what you call an uncomfortable silence?

Eric: I don't know what they call that. Then again, I never was a good play-by-play man. Kevin laughs, and Eric suddenly thinks of what to do next.

Eric: SUUUURRRRGGEEE!!!! Music!

Kevin: I'm gonna take a piss.

Eric: That's a little bit more information than I'd allow on Nitro, Kevin, but go right ahead.

Eric walks over to a cassette player, and presses 'play'. We hear repeated chants of "Gooooldbeeerg. . . Gooooldbeeerg. . ."

Eric: Oops, wrong tape.

He puts in the tape he wants and plays it, and it turns out to be "Bisch, you'll be unemployed soon", as sung by Ted Turner. Eric sings along happily.

Meanwhile, Kevin is comtemplating his next course of action in front of the bathroom mirror.

Kevin: One drink of that disgusting promotionally-considered crap, and that's it. Don't be rude, drink your SUUUURRRRGGGEEEE!!!!!, but do it quickly. Say "goodnight everybody, we're out of time", and go home.

In the living room, Eric Bischoff is still gettin' jiggy with the music. He dances around the room, and then finally sits down on the sofa.

Kevin, in the bathroom, continues to give himself advice: You see, this is a moral test of oneself; whether you can maintain loyalty. Because being loyal is very important, and otherwise, you won't get pushed.

Eric, on the sofa, is rolling himself a cigarette. He looks at it amd realizes tht it's way too cheap to be used by the great over-spender. His hand moves down into the pocket of Kevin Nash's overcoat. . . and finds the bag of "bowdy-bowdy madman" that Kevin bought from K-Dawg: Vampiro.

Eric opens it up and prepares to shoot his ego up by jobbing Vampiro to Eric's viscous karate skills. . .

Kevin is still talking to himself in the bathroom.

Kevin: So. . . You're gonna go out there, you're gonna say "thanks everybody, I've had a very lovely evening but we're out of time, tune in to Nitro", walk out the door, get in the car, go home, jerk off while thinking of angles involving Kimberly you can book yourself into, and that's all you're gonna do.

In the living room, Eric has taken Vampiro out of the bag. As he starts throwing his pathetic kicks, however, Vampiro suddenly comes to life, no sells, and repeatedly applies the "Nail in the Coffin" finisher to poor Eric.



A while later, Kevin comes out of the bathroom.

Kevin: All right, Eric. Listen, I've gotta go. . . All right?

He discovered that Eric is violebtly overselling on the floor. Twitching a bit, but otherwise out cold.

Kevin: Oh, Jesus Castillo. . . Fuck. . . Oh, Jesus Castillo.

He takes a look at Eric's face. He's totally overselling, out cold, doesn't respond to anything.

Kevin, really distraught: Oh, Jesus Castillo!!! Job me!!!! Oh, job me!!!!

He calms down just a little bit and realizes that there's still something to be done.

Kevin: All right, come on bitch, we're getting out of here. We've gotta walk now.



We see Kevin's car speeding down a road. Eric is still overselling.

Kevin: Don't fucking get jobbed out on me Eric!

He's getting out a cellular phone from his pocket and dials a number.

Kevin: Answer!



Over at K-Dawg's house, Dawg himself is watching Lucha-libre wrestling on TV, likely trying to pick up on some Spanish words. The phone is ringing. He's not making any effort to answer.



Kevin: Fuck you, K-Dawg, answer!



K-Dawg is getting up, realizing that the caller isn't giving up after just a few rings. K-Dawg's bitch calls from the kitchen.

Albert: K-Dawg! The god-damned phone's ringing!

K-Dawg: I can hear it. . .

Albert: I thought you told them frickin' ham'n'eggers never to call this late!

K-Dawg: Yea, that's what I told 'em, and that's what I'm gonna tell this bowdy-bowdy ham'n'egger right now.

He picks up the receiver.

K-Dawg: Hello?



Kevin: K-Dawg?! Kevin! I'm in big fucking trouble man! I'm coming to your house.



K-Dawg: Whoa whoa. Conserve tus caballos, hombre! What's the problem?



Kevin: I got this bitch, he's fucking overselling on me!



K-Dawg: Well don't bring him here! I'm not even bowdy-bowdy joking with you man! Do not be bringing some overselling indy worker to my hizzouse!



Kevin: No choice!



K-Dawg: He's OSing?



Kevin: He's fucking being jobbed out on me, man!



K-Dawg: Well, then you bite the bowdy-bowdy Bullett Bob, and you bring him to a Funkin' Dojo, and you call Tom Prichard.



Kevin: Negative!



K-Dawg: This is not my bowdy-bowdy problem man! You bowdy-bowdied her up, you bowdy-bowdy deal with it!

He realizes something. . .

K-Dawg: Are you breaking kay-fabe on a cellular phone? I don't know you! Who is this? Don't come here! I'm hanging up the phone. Prank caller, prank caller!

He hangs up. Outside, we hear and see Kevin's car coming. It crashes into something on K-Dawg's lawn.

Droz: What the fuck was that?

K-Dawg storms out.

K-Dawg: Have you lost your bowdy-bowdy mind? You were breaking kayfabe on a cellular phone, you crash into my bowdy-bowdy hizzouse. . .

Kevin, holding Eric: Grab his feet.

K-Dawg: Hey! Are you bowdy-bowdy deaf? You are not bringing this overselling indy worker into my hizzouse!

Kevin: This overselling indy worker is Hollywood Hogan's bitch. Do you know who Hollywood Hogan is? Do you?

K-Dawg: Yeah. . .

Kevin: Well, if he jobs out on me, I'm a fucking prelim worker! And I'm gonna be forced to tell him that you did not help out, and that you let him get jobbed out right here on your fucking lawn. Now, come on, help me, pick him up.

They carry him inside. Albert, in bed, starts to wonder what the hell is going on.

Albert: K-Dawg!? Shit. . .

He gets out of bed and walks out to the living room.

Albert: It's one thirty in the God-damned morning. What the frick's going on here?

He sees K-Dawg and Kevin dropping Eric on the floor.

Albert: Who's he?

K-Dawg: Go to the video shelf and get the thing with the video package.

Albert: What's wrong with him?

Kevin: He's OSing.

Albert: Get him the hell out of here!

K-Dawg: Get the package!

Albert: Frick you! Frick you too!

Kevin: Fucking midcarder. . .

K-Dawg (to Kevin): Just keep talking to him, alright. He's getting the package, I'm gonna go get my video manual.

Kevin: What the fuck do you need a video manual for?

K-Dawg: I don't know what to do, I've never had to give anyone the video package push before!

Kevin: You've never given a video package push?!

K-Dawg: I've never had to, OK! I just hang with luchadores. When they need a push, you just remove their masks and hope for the best!

Kevin: Get the package!

K-Dawg: I am if you'll let me!

Kevin: I ain't fucking stopping you!

K-Dawg: Well stop talking to me and start talking to him!

Kevin: GET THE PACKAGE!!

K-Dawg: Alright!

He goes into a room and starts looking through his stuff. He throws around a trashcan, for some reason filled with shredded paper, and various other object just laying around.

Kevin: Hurry up, Dawg, we're losing him!

K-Dawg: I'm looking as fast as I can!

Albert (to Kevin): What's he looking for?

Kevin: I don't know, some manual.

Albert (to K-Dawg): What are you looking for?!

K-Dawg: My video manual!

Albert: *What* are you looking for?

K-Dawg: My bowdy-bowdy video manual! It's the kind they give to bookermen!

Albert: I never saw no video manual. And when were you ever a bookerman?

K-Dawg: Well, I was in Mexico, and I've got one!

Albert: If it was so important, why didn't you keep it by the video package?

K-Dawg (snaps at him): I don't know, stop bothering me!!!

Albert: Listen, while you're looking, that old man's gonna die on our carpet! You're never gonna find anything here--. . .

K-Dawg: If you'd shut the bowdy-bowdy up--. . .

Kevin, from the living room: K-Dawg, get in here!

K-Dawg rushes out and pushes away Albert in the process.

K-Dawg: Get the bowdy-bowdy out of my way.

Albert: Phineas I. Godwinn. . .

K-Dawg and Kevin are both kneeling by Eric, who is still out cold.

Kevin: Quit fucking around and give him the video package push.

K-Dawg: Look, while I'm doing this, you open his shirt and look for his heart.

Kevin rips open Eric's shirt. His gleaming white skin forces both Kevin and K-Dawg to shield their eyes immediately.

Kevin: Ah, my eyes! The light is killing me!

K-Dawg: Alright, put on the shirt again! No one wants to see that! Just find his heart.

Kevin: Does it have to be exact?

K-Dawg: Yeah it's gotta be exact, we're giving him an ego boost to the heart, I guess it has to be pretty bowdy-bowdy exact.

Kevin: Well, I don't know exactly where the heart is, I think it's right here. . .?

Albert: That's it.

Kevin: OK, what I need is a big fat Nielsen's box to find out how well it's working. Have you got it?

Albert: What?

Kevin: A Nielsen's box! I fucking ratings measurer! The thing that Russo owns three thousand of!

Albert goes off to find one. In the meantime, K-Dawg has readied the video package in the VCR.

K-Dawg: OK, OK, I think it's done. . .

Kevin: Hurry up!

K-Dawg: OK, I'll tell you what to do.

Kevin: I ain't pushing. . . You're gonna push the play button.

K-Dawg: No, you're gonna push the play button.

Kevin: I'm not gonna push the play button.

K-Dawg: Well, *I'm* not gonna push the play button.

Kevin: I ain't never done this before.

K-Dawg: Well, I ain't never done this before either, and I'm not starting now! Look, you brought him here, that means you push the play button. The day that I bring an overseller to your house, I push the button.

Albert returns with the Nielsen's box.

Kevin: Give it here. . . Alright, tell me what to do.

K-Dawg: OK. . . You're giving him a video package push, an ego boost, straight to his heart. So what you've gotta do is you put your index finger out and move it toward the play button.

He motions his own finger towards the button three times.

Kevin: We've gotta veiw it three times?

K-Dawg: No, man, normally we would see it three times during one episode of Nitro, but we ain't got time. We're just gonna view it once.

Kevin: OK, then what happens?

K-Dawg: I'm curious about that myself.

Kevin: This ain't a fucking joke, man! Am I gonna job him, is he gonna--. . .

K-Dawg: No, he's just supposed to start no-selling, just like that.

Kevin: OK, count to three.

K-Dawg: Uno. . . dos. . . THREE!

Kevin presses play, and we see the video package: Eric defeating Larry Zbyszko, Eric defeating Ric Flair. . . and Eric hanging with Hollywood Hogan. Eric's eyes pop open and he jumps up. Everyone in the room is suitably shocked.

K-Dawg: If you're alright, then say something.

Eric: You're all fired.

They're all relieved that the Eric that they'd all come to know is back.

Albert: That was frickin' trippy.



We see Eric and Kevin quietly driving back to Hollywood's house. After they arrive, Eric walks back to the house, still shocked, while Kevin stands back.

Kevin: Eric. . . Eric.

Eric Bischoff turns around.

Kevin: What's your take on. . . on how to handle this?

Eric: What's yours?

Kevin: I'm of the opinion that if Hollywood lived his whole life, he didn't need know nothin' of this whole incident.

Eric: If Hollywood knew about this, I'd be in as deep trouble as you.

Kevin: I seriously doubt that.

Eric: I can keep a secret if you can. No one ever knew ahead of time what was going to happen on the PPVs I booked, for instance. And I *mean* no one.

Kevin: Not even you, right?

Eric: Right.

Kevin: Shake on it?

He walks up to Eric and they shake hands.

Kevin: Not a word.

Eric nods.

Kevin: Cool. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm gonna go home and have a heart attack.

Eric: I could poison your food for you. . . Oh, and do you wanna hear my "Book Force Five" ridiculous statement?

Kevin: Sure. . . But I think I'm too petrified to laugh.

Eric: You won't laugh anyway, 'cause it's really just sad. But if you still wanna hear it, I'll tell it.

Kevin: Can't wait.

Eric: OK. A wrestler that everyone says has potential for greatness is in a fed led by me. He starts lagging behind and gets injured, so I tell him: "A guy in black trunks will never be marketable. You're fired.".

Kevin doesn't laugh, but smiles a little bit.

Eric: "You're fired. . . "

Eric Bischoff walks inside, and Kevin just stands there for a while, then blows Eric a kiss and goes to his car. . .

Mr JF
[slash] wrestling

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Guest column text copyright (C) 1999 by the individual author and used with permission