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PULP BOOKERMAN
Episode 10

I got a tattoo today.

And in other news, it's a brand new episode of Pulp Bookerman coming up!

Obligatory boring explanation for new readers: Pulp Bookerman is Pulp Fiction with wrestling characters. It's a parody. For those who haven't read the earlier episodes, or who want to get reminded of the backstory, the links are here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.

Soon, there'll be an official Pulp Bookerman archive. But it's not up yet, so I can't plug it. Wait until next week.

My sentences are rather short today. So are my paragraphs.

Let's get it on.

PULP BOOKERMAN
Episode 10.



The scene: The dark haired cab driver with the evil goatee we saw in the last episode has picked up a very peculiar passager: Goldberg. Goldberg is sitting in the backseat, all sweaty and exhausted, in his wrestling trunks.

Undertaker: Mister? Hey mister?

Goldberg: What?

Undertaker: You were in that match. The match on the radio. Are you the wrestler?

Goldberg: Whatever gave you that idea?

Undertaker: No come on, you're him. I know you're him. No one else would be as exhausted after two minutes of wrestling. Tell me your him.

Goldberg: I'm him.

Undertaker: You killed the other wrestler man.

Goldberg (surprised): He's dead?

Undertaker: The radio said he was dead.

Goldberg (to no one in particular): Sorry about that, David.

Undertaker (sounding rather excited): What does it feel like?

Goldberg: What does what feel like?

Undertaker (grinning): Killing a man. Beating a man to death with your bare hands. . . Feeling the life sucked from his twitching carcass and seeing his eyes go blank. Being up close when his mind realizes that he will no longer--. . .

Goldberg: What are you, some kind of weirdo?

Undertaker (rolling his eyes back into his skull and laughing manically): No. It's a subject I have much interest in. Much like riding Harleys in the desert and attaching people to cross-like symbols. You are the first person I have ever met who has killed somebody. Without setting fire to them or burying them alive, that is. So. . . What does it feel like to kill a man?

Goldberg: Well, I'll tell you. So. . . (reads the Driver Identification note). . . "Undertaker, Lord of Darkness". Is that Russoian?

Undertaker: The name is by Pat Patterson, but I'm from McMahonland.

Goldberg: Well, that's some name you got there.

Undertaker: Thank you. And what is your name?

Goldberg: Bill.

Undertaker: "Bill". What does it mean?

Goldberg: I'm from WCW, buddy. Our names don't mean crap. So. . . Moving right along, Undertaker. . . What is it you wanna know?

Undertaker: I want to know what it feels like to kill a man. To be face to face with him as the Dark Side moves in and the life force fades out from--. . .

Goldberg: I couldn't tell you. I didn't know he was dead until you told me he was dead. And now that I know, you want to know how I feel about it? I don't feel the least bit bad about it.



Goldberg is in a phone booth, talking with some bookkeeper. Undertaker, Lord of Darkness is waiting in the cab.

Goldberg (very happy): What the heck did I tell you? As soon as the word got out that it was gonna be a stupid booking move, the odds went through the roof. . . I know, I know, fricking unbelievable. . . Ah, screw him Hector, if he was a better wrestler he'd still be alive. If he'd never put on that robe, which he shouldn't have been given an opportunity to do in the first fricking place if it wasn't for the fact that nepotism runs wild in wrestling, he'd still be alive. . .Yea, well, who gives a heck, it's over now. . . Yeah, enough of the poor and uncharismatic and lousy and pathetic and unfortunate Mr. Flair. Let's talk of the rich and prosperus Mr. Goldberg. . . How many RSPW award voters have you got voting for David's death as best promotional move? All eight?. . . No, I understand, some diehard Russo and Ferrera-voters aside. . . Aw, heck, Hector, that's good news. That's great news, man. . . Uh-huh. . . No, me and Steve are gonna leave in the morning. It'll probably take us a couple of days gettin' down to Memphis. . . Alright, brother. . . You're right. You're sure-as-heck right. . . Alright Hector. Next time I'll see you will be on Tennessee time. Cool, brother.

He hangs up the phone.

The cab is pulling up outside a motel. Bill jumps out of the car picks up his wallet to pay the Undertaker for the fare.

Undertaker: 45.60.

Goldberg gives him the money, then takes out another bill and holds it in front of the Undertaker.

Goldberg: And here's a little extra for the effort. Now, if anyone asks who your fare was tonight, what are you going to say?

Undertaker (grinning evilly): The truth. Three well-dressed, slightly toasted Mexicans and Billy Kidman who are neither faces nor heels and quickly got really tiresome.

Goldberg seems pleased with the answer and hands Undertaker the extra money.

Goldberg: Bye Undertaker, Lord of Darkness.

Undertaker: Rest in peace. . . Bill.

Undertaker drives away.



Goldberg goes into his motel room where we see someone (almost) asleep in the bed. The person is bald and is wearing black trunks and a black vest with a big skull on the back. Goldberg switches on the lights.

Austin: Keep the damn lights off, jackass.

Goldberg switches them off again.

Goldberg: That better sugarpie?

Austin: Oh hell yeah.

Goldberg looks out the window to see if anyone's after him. No one -- he's safe for now.

Austin: Hard day at the office?

Goldberg: Pretty hard. I got into a fight.

Austin: Poor jackass. Can we make spears?

Goldberg: You know what, I was thinking of taking a shower, I'm stinking like a Dogg here.

Austin: I like the way you stink, and that's the bottom line, 'cause Stone Cold said so.

Goldberg laughs at this.

Goldberg: Let me just take off my jacket.

Austin: I was looking at myself in the mirror.

Goldberg: Uh-huh.

Austin: I wish I had a pot.

Goldberg: You were looking at yourself in the mirror and you wished you had some pot? Have you been hanging with the Godfather again?

Austin: A pot. A potbelly. Potbellys are sexy.

Goldberg lies down next to Austin on the bed and touches his belly.

Goldberg: Well, then you should be happy. . . Because you have one.

Austin: Shut up jackass! I don't have a pot! I have a bit of a beergut, like Roddy Piper when he did WrestleMania XII. It's not the same thing.

Goldberg: I didn't know there was such a difference between a potbelly and a beergut.

Austin: The difference is huge, and that's the bottom line, 'cause Stone Cold said so!

Goldberg (snuggling up closer to Austin): Would you like it if I had a potbelly?

Austin: No. A potbelly doesn't fit with the otherwise 'roided phusique in the WCW main eventers. But on a WWF star, a potbelly is very sexy. The rest of you is normal: normal face, normal ass, normal legs, normal ass--. . .

Goldberg: You already said ass.

Austin: I like saying ass, jackass. Everything is normal, but with a big, perfectly round potbelly. If I had one, I'd wear one of my Official Austin T-shirts two sizes too small to accentuate it.

Goldberg: You think smarts would find that attractive?

Austin: I don't give a damn what the smarts find attractive. Unfortunately, what we find pleasing to the marks and pleasing to the smarts is seldom the same, and that's the bottom line 'cause Stone Cold said so!

Goldberg: If you had a potbelly, I'd spear you in it.

Austin: You'd spear me in my belly?

Goldberg: Right in the belly. And because I don't preform that many other moves, my aim is pretty good.

Austin: I'd Stunner you! My Stunner is more powerful than your spear! And that's the bottom line, 'cause Stone Cold said so!

The loving banter is over and the two share a passionate kiss.

Goldberg: Did you get everything?

Austin: Oh hell yeah I did.

Goldberg: Good job, sugarpie.

Austin: Did everything go as planned?

Goldberg: You didn't watch on TV?

Austin: I never watch any of your matches. It's on against RAW. Were you the winner?

Goldberg: I won alright.

Austin: Are you still retiring?

Goldberg: Sure am.

Austin: So it all worked out in the finish?

Goldberg: We're not at the finish yet, baby.

They share another passionate kiss.



ACHTUNG!!!

The following scene has, unfortunately, gotten cut. It involves "oral pleasure" and "kissing it", among other things. It may cause severe heart trauma for those of you reading named Phil Mushnik, who are generally afraid of anything more raunchy than Barney. Also, this is a service to Bob Ryder, whose job is a lot easier without this scene. This is because stars from both major wrestling promotions are involved, and the decision whether it's good clean fun or dirty child-corrupting crap is almost impossible for Bob to make.

ACHTUNG!!!



Goldberg is in the shower. Austin is also in the bathroom, wearing a white bathrobe and shining his scalp with a towel.

Goldberg: I think I cracked a rib.

Austin: Giving me oral pleasure?

Goldberg: No, hillbilly, from the entrance to the match.

Austin: Don't call me hillbilly.

Goldberg (in a 'hillbilly' voice): "Mah name ish Aushtin! And that'sh the bottom line, ‘cus Stone Cold said so. Ass, ass, ass. Jackass. Ass, ass, ass."

Austin (very angry): Shut up, jackass! I hate that inbred voice!

Goldberg: OK, OK. Sorry, sorry, sorry. . . I take it back. Will you hand me a dry towel, mr. beautiful tulip?

Austin: I like that. I like being called a tulip. Austin 3:16 says tulip is much better than inbred.

Goldberg: I didn't call you inbred, I called you a hillbilly. And I took it back.

Goldberg steps out of the shower. Austin is brushing his teeth.

Austin: Bill?

Goldberg: Yes, lemonpie?

Austin: Where are we going to go?

Goldberg: I'm not sure yet. Wherever you want. We're gonna get a lot of money from this, but it ain't gonna be the kind of money that we can live like Henry O. Godwinns forever. I thought maybe we could go down somewhere in the South Pacific. The money we have is gonna carry us a long way down there.

Austin: If we wanted we could live in Puerto Rico. Savio still owes me a favour after I put him over like hell in '96.

Goldberg: You betcha. And if you don't dig that, we can go someplace else, maybe Mexico.

Austin: But I do not wrestle lucha style.

Goldberg: Well, you do not wrestle psychotic exploding fricking barbed-wire Puerto Rican style either. Besides, lucha is easy. "Topé con hilo saltando plancha suicido del muerte."

Austin: What does it mean?

Goldberg: Dive.

Austin: "Topé con hilo saltando plancha suicido del muerte. . ."

Goldberg: Excellent pronounciation! You'll be my luchadore in no time. "Quién es siguiente?"

Austin: "Quién es siguiente?"

Goldberg: "Who's next?"

Austin: "Who's next?"

Goldberg: Bed's next. Sweet dreams, jellybean.

He goes to bed. Austin is still brushing. He finishes up and walks into the bedroom.

Austin: Bill?

Goldberg is sound asleep.

Austin: Austin 3:16 says nevermind.



The next morning, Goldberg wakes up abruptly. The TV is on rather loud. Austin is already up.

Austin: You startled me! Did you have a bad dream?

Goldberg (yawns): What is this you're watching?

The TV is showing someone who looks a lot like Roddy Piper, although much more not-ancient.

Austin: Some alien movie. I think it's called They Live.

Goldberg: Are you watching it?

Austin: In a way.

Goldberg: It's a little early in the morning for action scenes and generic witty lines.

Austin: What was it about?

Goldberg: How should I know, Steve? You're the one who was watching it.

Austin: No jackass! What was the dream about?

Goldberg: I don't know. I don't remember. I very rarely remember my dreams. In WCW, any plot developments that happened more than two minutes ago are useless to remember, anyways.

He gets out of bed. and starts looking through a pile of his belongings while getting himself dressed.

Goldberg: What time is it?

Austin: Almost nine in the morning. What time does our zamboni arrive?

Goldberg: Eleven.

Austin: You know what I'm gonna have for breakfast?

Goldberg: What, lemonpie?

Austin: I'm gonna have a big bowl of Chef Boyardee ravioli drenched with J.R.'s barbecue sauce.

Goldberg: Anything to drink with that?

Austin: Ooh, that looks nice!

He is referring to Goldberg, who has put on an Austin T-shirt.

Austin: To drink, I'm gonna have a sixpack of light beer. After that, I'm gonna have a slice of pie. And that's the bottom line, 'cause Stone Cold said so!

Goldberg: Pie for breakfast? Is that kosher?

Austin: Any time of the day is good for pie in Texas! Poontang pie, because everyone's talking about it, but I haven't even tried it--. . .

Goldberg: Where's my watch?

There's a lenghty pause before Austin speaks.

Austin: It's there. . .

Goldberg: No it isn't.

Austin: Have you looked?

Goldberg: Yes, I've fricking looked. What the heck do you think I'm doing!?

Austin gets a bit uncertain of himself. When Bill uses such words, you know he's pissed.

Goldberg: Are you sure you got it?

Austin: Oh hell yes. Bedside table drawer. . .

Goldberg: On the little replica of the Bushwhacker mascot?

Austin: Yes, on the little replica of the Bushwhacker mascot.

Goldberg (getting really angry): Well, it's not here now.

Austin (in very small voice): Well, it should be. . . and that's the bottom line, 'cause Stone Cold said so.

Goldberg: Yes, it most definitely should be here, but it's not here now! Where the heck is it?!

Austin looks like he's about to cry.

Goldberg: Steve. . . That was my father's fricking watch. You know what he had to go through to give me that watch? I don't have the video package to go into it now, but he went through a lot. All this crap you could set on fire like a tag team member who's just gotten tagged in after a heat segment on his partner, but I specifically reminded you not to forget the fricking watch! Now think! Did you get it?

Austin: I believe so. . .

Goldberg: You believe so. . . What the heck does that mean? You either did, or you didn't get it.

Austin: Then I got it.

Goldberg: You sure?

Austin, with a sad look on his face, shakes his head.

Austin: Oh hell no.

Goldberg goes crazy, throwing things around and banging his head into the wall

Goldberg: Frick! Frick frick frick motherfricker! You know how fricking stupid you fricking are?!

Austin, startled, hides behind the bed. Goldberg calms down.

Goldberg: No. It's not your fault.You left it at the appartment. . .You left it at the appartment, it's not your fault. I asked you to bring a lot of stuff. I reminded you, but I didn't illustrate how personal it was to me. That watch was the only thing I gave a frick about, I should have told you that. You're not a mind reader, are you?

Austin, on the floor with a singel tear trickling down his right cheek, shakes his head.

Austin: I'm sorry. . .

Goldberg: Don't be. It just means I can't have breakfast with you.

Austin: Why does it mean that?

Goldberg: Because I've gotta go back to the appartment and get my watch.

Austin: Won't the bookermen be waiting for you there?

Goldberg: Well, that's what I'm gonna find out. If they are, and I don't think I can handle it, I leave.

Austin: I saw your watch. I thought I brought it. (barely audible:) Austin 3:16 says I'm so sorry. . .

Austin drops some money on the bed.

Goldberg: Here's some money. Get yourself the breakfast. I'll be back before you can say Steveweiser.

Austin: Steveweiser.

Goldberg: Maybe not that fast, but pretty fast, OK?

He leaves.



In his car, Goldberg is pissed. He is banging his head against the steering wheel.

Goldberg: Frick! Of all the things he could fricking forget, he forgets my father's watch! I specifically reminded him: Bedside table, on the replica of the Bushwhacker mascot. I said the words: "Don't forget my fathers watch".



Goldberg arrives putside the appartment building where he used to live. As he reaches the door, he slowly inserts the key and opens it. He sneaks in, but it appears the appartment is empty. He enters the kitchen.

Goldberg (to himself): Looking good, Bill.

He takes out some bread from a cupboard and puts it in the toaster. However, he then sees a cattle prod lying on the kitchen sink. At the same time, he hears a toilet flushing. A bookerman is in his house!

Goldberg picks up the cattle prod and stands ready as the bathroom door opens. It's Kevin Nash. they both stand there silently, looking at each other. Suddenly, Goldberg tosses the cattle prod into the air, and then as Nash looks up, he spears him right back into the bathroom!

Goldberg gets up, wipes himself off and takes a last look at Nash. He's been jobbed out; totally decked. Beside him lies a Warrior comic book, Kevin's bathroom reading, apparently. Goldberg wipes the cattle prod clean of finger prints, then takes off.

Mr JF
[slash] wrestling

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