It is I, Mr. JF. And it is that, Pulp Bookerman.

Episode 12, to be more precise.

For new readers: Pulp Bookerman is Pulp Fiction with wrestling characters. It isn't, as some might assume, a serious commentary of the world today, but instead a parody. For new readers and old, there is now an OFFICIAL Pulp Bookerman archives page, right here. It's hosted by a gentleman by the name of Eliott (be sure to spell it that way, otherwise he gets angry), and he and CRZ hate each other. So as a consequence, both of them hate me for associating with the other. They don't say so, but I can tell. (HE started it! - CRZ)

So, go there, read all the old episodes, bookmark it, and tell your friends. Then e-mail me as well. I like that.

Erm, that's it I believe. Let's get it on.

DDP: Yes you did! Yes you did Dean! You tried to fuck him. But Hollywood Hogan don't like to be fucked by anybody except Mr. Bischoff.

Jericho (whispering to himself): Damnit, I don't wanna get jobbed out. . .

DDP: You read the Book of Catchphrases, Dean?

Dean (sounding really frightened, but likely with a look of indifference on his face): Yes!

DDP: Well, there's this little passage I got memorized, Diamond Dallas 25:17. Sort of fits this occasion:

"The path of the bookerman is beset on all sides by the inequities of the talented, and the tyranny of workrate freaks. Blessed is he, who in the name of tradition and sports entertainment carries the stiffs through the matches of Nitro, for he is truly the workrate's keeper, and the finder of lost quality. "

Chris Jericho is sneaking up closer to the door, ready to attack with the remote control.

DDP: "And I will lay the smack down upon thee with great vengeance and furious roid rage those who attempt to outwrestle and expose my brothers. And you will know my name as the Bookerman, when I lay my catchphrase upon thee!"

DDP & Kevin: *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!*

Dean Malenko (with a look of indifference on his face) screams. The overuse of the catchphrases are killing him. Chris Benoit, standing in the corner, is shocked.

Benoit (silently): Damn, damn, damn. . . Oh God. . .

Kevin (to DDP): Is he a friend of yours?

DDP: Oh, Kevin - Chris, Chris - Kevin.

Benoit is taking no note of the formal introduction, still muttering to himself.

Kevin: You better tell him to shut the fuck up, he might get over.

DDP: Chris. . . Chris! CHRIS!

This finally gets Chris's attention, and he turns to look at DDP.

DDP: I'd knock that scum off if I was you.

All of a sudden, Chris Jericho busts through a door with the big remote control in his hands. He's aiming it at Diamond Dallas Page and Kevin Nash.

Jericho: Go away you mammajammas! Go away! *click*click*click*click*click*

His expression changes from victory to "oh shit", when he realizes that DDP and Kevin aren't disappearing when he's switching channels. Nash and DDP just look at each other for a second, then turn their attention to the hapless Jericho.

DDP & Kevin: *BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

Jericho is out.

DDP just stands there, mesmerized. Kevin Nash walks over to Chris Benoit, still sitting in the corner.

Kevin: Why the fuck didn't you tell us someone was in the bathroom? Slip your mind? Did you forget that someone was in there with a goddamned remote control?

Benoit, strictly abiding the orders of keeping his mouth shut, just shakes his head.

DDP: Did you see the size of that remote he used on us? It was bigger than him! We should be scummin' turned off, man.

Kevin: I know, we was lucky. The batteries were out or something.

DDP: No no no no. . . that scum wasn't luck.

Kevin: Yeah, maybe.

DDP: This was Turner intervention. You know what Turner intervention is?

Kevin: I think so. . . That means that Ted Turner came down from Atlanta and stopped the remote from working?

DDP: That's right! That's exactly right! Ted came down from Atlanta and stopped this motherscumming remote!

Kevin: I think it's time for us to leave, Dallas.

DDP: Don't do that! Don't scummin' blow this thing off! What just happened here was a scummin' miracle!

Kevin: Chill Dallas, this shit happens.

DDP: Wrong! Wrong, this scum doesn't just happen.

Kevin: Do you wanna continue this illogical discussion in the car. . . or on the nWWWo message board with the smarts? It's where this'll end up if they find out what happened.

DDP: We should be scummin' turned off, my friend! What happened here was a miracle, and I want you to scummin' acknowledge it!

Kevin: Alright, it was a miracle. Can we go now?

They leave. Kevin goes out first, and Dallas needs to stop and tell Benoit to come along.

DDP: Let's go jobber, come on!

Benoit leaves as well, without saying a word.

Kevin: Did you see that show Nitro last year? Well, I was watching it one night, and there was this guy who appeared in a mirror, only he could only be seen by Hogan and the viewers at home, not Hogan's friend. It's illogical, but the shit happens.

DDP: If you wanna play blind man, go walk with the refs. Me, my eyes are wide scummin' open.

Kevin: Now what the hell does that mean?

DDP: That means that's it for me. From here on out, you consider my ass retired.

Kevin: Jesus Castillo. . .

DDP: Don't blaspheme!

In the back seat, Chris Benoit is stuggling to abide orders and keep his mouth shut. It's hard, because the disussion is painfully moronic and has no logical basis whatsoever. His face is becoming redder and redder as the frustration build up.

Kevin (to DDP): Hey why the fuck are you fucking freaking out on us?!

DDP: Look man, I'm telling Hollywood today, I'm through.

Kevin: Then why don't you tell him at the same time why?

DDP: Don't worry, I will.

Kevin: Yeah, and considering how seriously he tends to take this retirement talk, I bet you ten thousand dollars he laughs his ass off.

DDP: I don't give a damn if he does!

Kevin: Pfft. Chris, what do you make of all this?

In the back seat, Benoit struggles to keep from screaming at them, instead shaking his head frantically from side to side. His complexion keeps going dark red. You can almost see steam coming from his ears. Being a good company man, he doesn't open his mouth, but you can tell he won't be able to stand much more.

Kevin turns to face Chris.

Kevin: Well you've *gotta* have an opinion. I mean, do you think Turner came down from Atlanta and stopped--. . .

*BLA-SPLOSH!!*

Chris Benoit's head explodes! Vanilla covers the inside of the car as well as the two bookermen.

DDP: What the scum's happening?!! Scum, man!!

Kevin: Aw, man, I made Chris's head blow up.

DDP: Why the scum did you do that?!!!!

Kevin: Well I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident.

DDP: Oh man, I've seen some crazy ass scum in my life, but this--. . .

Kevin: Chill out man, I told you it was an accident. He probably just took a bump to sell my amazing argumentative skills or something. . .

DDP: That wasn't no scumming bump!

Kevin: Hey man, I didn't mean to kill the JTTS, his head blew up, I don't know why. . .

DDP: Well look at this scummin' mess, man! We're on a city street in broad daylight!

Kevin: I don't believe it, man. . .

DDP: Well believe it now, motherscummer! We've gotta get this car off the road! You know, smarts tend to notice when you're driving a car drenched with scummin' vanilla!

Kevin: Just take it a to a friendly place, that's all. . .

DDP: This is the Valley Kevin, Hollywood ain't got no friendly places in the Valley!

Kevin: Well this isn't my town, man!

DDP: Scum!

He starts digging through his pockets.

Kevin: Watcha doin'?

DDP (taking up a cell phone): I'm calling my partner in Beverly Hills.

Kevin: Where's Beverly Hills?

DDP: Where Dylan and Kelly and them live. Place for rich brats. If Scotty's ass ain't home, I don't know what the scum I'm gonna do, 'cause I ain't got no other people who don't hate my guts.

Scotty answers the phone.

DDP: Scotty! Yo, how ya doin', it's Dallas! Just listen up man: me and my homeboy are in some serious scummin' shit, we're in a car we have to get off the road pronto! I need to use your garage for a couple of hours.

DDP: We've gotta be real scummin' delicate with this Scotty situation. You know, he's one remark from kicking our asses out the door.

Kevin: And if he does, what do we do?

DDP: Well, we ain't leavin' until we've made a couple of calls, but I don't want it to reach that pitch. Scotty's a friend. You don't be comin' to your friend's house and start tellin' him what's what.

Kevin: Yeah, but just tell him not to be abusive, that's all. I mean, he kinda freaked out back there when he saw Benoit.

DDP: Well put yourself in his position. I mean, it's eight o'clock in the morning, he just came home from a hard night of boozin', he wasn't expecting this scum. Scum, we've gotta remember who's doin' who a favour here.

Kevin: Well if that favour means I've gotta take shit, then he can take that favour, shine it up real good, turn that sumbitch sideways, and shove it up his candy ass.

DDP: Scum, man! What the scum did you just do with that towel?

In his hands, Kevin is holding the towel he was using -- it's covered with yellowish vanilla.

Kevin: I was drying my hands. . .

DDP: Well you're supposed to wash 'em first!

Kevin: You watched me wash 'em!

DDP: I watched you get 'em wet!

Kevin: I was washing 'em! But this stuff's hard to get off. If he'd had Lava I could have done a better job.

DDP: I used the same scummin' soap you did, and when I was finished the towel didn't look like something Mike Samuda wiped off his keyboard with after interviewing Torrie Wilson! It's scum like this that's gonna bring this situation to a head, man! Look. . . I ain't threatenin' you or nothing, alright? You know I respect you and all. Just don't put me in this position, alright?

Kevin: Alright. Fine. Fine. Ask me nice like that, no problem. Go handle your friend, go ahead, I don't care.

In the kitchen, we see Kevin and DDP drinking SURGE!!!!

DPP: Mm! Goddamn, Scotty! This is some serious gourmet-shit! Me and Kevin would have been satisfied with some Hansen Energy drink, and he brings this gourmet-shit. . . What flavor is this?

We see Scotty. He has on a pink morning robe and is wearing big fluffy teddybear slippers. He has long dark hair and under the robe is an Offspring T-shirt. You might know Scotty better as Raven.

Raven: Knock it off, Dallas.

DDP: What?

Raven: I don't need you to tell me how fucking good my SURGE!!!! is, OK. Whenever I turn on Nitro I see it, you're fucking brainwashing me. When Stevie goes shopping, he buys shit. I buy the gourmet-expensive stuff, 'cause whenever I see it in stores this strange voice enters my head. It says "What about me? What about SURGE!!!!?". But you know what's on my mind right now? It ain't the SURGE!!!! in my kitchen. It's the dead jobber in my garage.

DDP: Oh, Scotty, don't even worry about it--. . .

Raven: Nonono. I wanna ask you a question: When you came pulling in here, did you notice a sign on the front of my house that said "Dead jobber storage"?

DDP: Scum, Scotty, you know I didn't see no scum--. . .

Raven: Did you notice a sign on the front of my house saying "Dead jobber storage"?!

DDP: No. I didn't.

Raven: You know why you didn't see that sign?

DDP (impatiently): Why?

Raven: 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead jobbers ain't my fucking business, that's why!

DDP: Look, Scotty, we're not gonna store the motherscumm--. . .

Raven: Nononono. Don't you realize man, if Stevie comes home and finds a dead body in the garage, I'm gonna get fucking divorced? No marriage counseling, no trial separation, I'm gonna get fucking divorced. And I don't wanna get fucking divorced! I mean, fuck man, I wanna help, I wanna do the right thing, but I don't wanna lose my wife doing it, OK?

DDP: Scotty. . . Scotty, he ain't gonna leave you--. . .

Raven: Don't "Scotty" me, Dallas! Don't fucking "Scotty" me! I'm Raven! I'm a rebel! I'm not a rich spoiled kid who grew up in the nice neighborhoods! Don't fucking "Scotty" me in front of other wrestlers! There's nothing you're gonna say that's gonna make me forget that I'm a badass! And there's nothing you're gonna say that's gonna make me forget that I love my wife! Is there? OK. . . He comes home in about and hour and a half. Sunday Night HeAT ring crew shift in the WWF. You gotta make some phone calls? You gotta call some people? Well then do it! And get the fuck out of my house before he gets here!

DDP: That's Too Cool, man. You know, we don't wanna scum your scum up. All we wanna do is call our people and have them pick us up, that's all. . .

Raven: You don't wanna fuck my shit up you mean? You're fucking my shit up right now! You're gonna fuck my shit up big time if Stevie comes home! So just do me that favor, OK? The phone is in the bedroom, I suggest you get going.

Hogan: Well, say she comes home. What do you think she'll do? . . . Oh, no, sucka, crap she'll freak. That ain't no kind of answer. I mean, you know her, I don't. How much, a lot or a little?

Hogan: I realize that, Dallas. All I'm doing is contemplating the 'if's.

DDP: I don't wanna hear about no motherscummin' 'if's! All I wanna hear from you is: "You ain't got no problem Dallas. I'm on the motherscummer. Go back in there and chill them jobbas out, and wait for the cavalery which should be coming directly!"

He hangs up the phone.