Boris And Barf-Bag Do Jack Hoff : The Script
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Written By : Jack Hoff. / Illustrated By : Jack Hoff
[It was the best of times... it was... uh... also not that good in some ways. ...]
[...]
Boris And Barf-Bag Do Jack Hoff : The Script
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Written By : Jack Hoff. / Illustrated By : Jack Hoff
[Long, long ago, in a trailer, not that far away, really. I mean, Oklahoma's not THAT far away from Connecticut. ... Atleast, not far away tah be like, "far, far away", or some shit. ...]
[...]
Boris And Barf-Bag Do Jack Hoff : The Script
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Written By : Jack Hoff. / Illustrated By : Jack Hoff
[Once Upon A Time... ... Once Upon A Time... Uh... Once... Once Upon A...]
[...]
[FUCK.]
Boris And Barf-Bag Do Jack Hoff : The Script
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Written By : Jack Hoff. / Illustrated By : Jack Hoff
[Alotta shit happened.]
[Yeah, that's how it started. So what, big whoop, wanna - AW SCREW TAH HELL, that's been played out tah all fuck's sake!]
[What exact shit happened, you may ask? No. You may not. Dick.]
[And now, I'm going to introduce ya tah two guys, who used to dominate the airwaves of 'MBTV' [Mac Bry Television], back in the day, when men was men, and women was women, and dogs was dogs and cats was cats, and lamps was lamps, and nitroglycerin was nitroglycerin, and sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can nevah hurt me. These two guys have done some ah the craziest shit, and dammit, it'd make that 'JackAss' crap look like a fuggin' walk in the park! The Hoff-A-Holics have embraced these boys with open arms since day ONE... and now, they-ah finally back, to help me out in the time ah my greatest need. The Hoff looked high... and he searched low, and by gum, did he search low. I'm talkin', I almost got Eddie MonPo's narrator tah do the dirt deed fah me, but the guy was so strung out on weed, that he thought I was gettin' him tah do a damn Geico commercial! But let the Hoff digress...]
[As the Hoff heads to his couch, everyone, please welcome the only two guns-of-ditches that have about as many marbles loose as your truly. Ladies and scum-buckets...]
[... Boris... and Barf-Bag!!!]
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* Boris and Barf-Bag are not role models. They're not intelligent. They're not thoughtful... or witty. Hell, Jack Hoff probably has more brain cells than both of these numbskulls combined. They're not human... they're not even cartoons. They're just a bunch of random text thrown onto a page, seeing what shit sticks.*
*The opinions expressed by Boris and / or Barf-Bag do not necessarily reflect those of Jack Hoff, but more importantly, probably AREN'T the views of AWE, it's staff, and it's stars. By the time this God-forsaken thing is over, the Hoff-Ster may wind up without a job, on the street, selling crack just to get by.*
*For this, AWE could not be any more grateful.*
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[Barf-bag: Huh-huh-huh. Cool.]
[Boris: YEAH! YEAH! Heh-heh-heh! FART-KNOCKER!!!]
[Barf-bag: Huh-huh. Shut up, dumbass. Ya dildo-bag.]
[Boris: HEH-HEH-HEH! Dildo... dildooo-io-io!!!]
*Barf-bag slaps Boris upside the back of his head*
[Barf-bag: Knock it off, fart-burger.]
[Boris: Heh-heh, uh, Barf-bag, why do you keep slapping me?]
[Barf-bag: Cuz. Huh-huh, you're a tard-basket.
[Boris: Heh-heh! Oh.]
Jack Hoff: Hey guys.
[Barf-bag: Huh-huh, who's this dingle-berry?
[Boris: Heh-heh, dingle-berry... I dunno, Barf-bag, maybe he's the pizza guy?]
Jack Hoff: What?! Dammit, I'm Jack F'N Hoff, THE most popular, charismatic, talented super-dee-duper-star on the whole damn AWE roster!!!
*Boris and Barf-bag both look at eachother, scratching their heads... Barf-bag says something.*
[Barf-bag: Something.]
*NO, stupid, you say something, as in, you speak.*
[Barf-bag: Oh... uh... huh-huh, Boris, wanna go watch a music video and make fun of it on a nationally syndicated program?]
[Boris: HEH-HEH-HEH... Actually, no. That sounds quite cliche', and over done, and taking into account the current state of the already barren wasteland which we call "television", what with the writer's strike and all the reality programming used to fill the void, I believe that any program with a modest writing team at its disposal should do all that's within its power to provide the nation with good, wholesome, educational, far-reaching, and long-term thinking, QUALITY entertainment.]
[Barf-bag: ... Huh-huh- ... Huh?]
[Boris: FIRE! FIRE, FIRE, FIRE! I am Cornholio, do you have TP for my bung-hole?!]
[Barf-bag: Now THAT'S the Boris I know, huh-huh. Let's go down to the Quik-E-Mart and get a few frozen burritos from Apu.]
*Boris and Barf-bag exit, stage left...*
Jack Hoff: DAMMIT!!! Once again left without a narrator... Well, Eddie MonPO -
- In the midnight hour... with a rebel yell... the Hoff WILL cry... more... more... more... more...
Jack Hoff: ... More.
Jack Hoff: For Eddie, muh boy, in this world, there are winners... and then? There are lose-ahs. And I ain't no stinkin' lose-ah! I've poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this tournament... mostly sweat... and alot of drool... But point is, I ain't gonna quit now, not after I've alredy beaten... uh... one guy! Hell, that's more victories fah the Hoff-man than evah before! Some would say they'd be happy with just that... but not the Hoff, no sir-ee-BOB! The Hoff does NOT back down from a challenge... and even though I've been counted out by most of the joiks in the back, I've come to AWE tah prove one thing... and that is, that without a shadow of a doubt, I AM... The Savior.
Jack Hoff: This place has needed some saving ever since its first iteration. It's always lacked that certain sorta appeal... that pizaz, that... spectacle... that only a certain breed ah wrassler can bring to the table. It's always been in dire need of some serious shakin' up, no matter ya talkin' 'bout the first form, the second form, or this, the third and latest form. And who BETTAH' ... Who bettah', tah stir that pot, than the very man that embodies the world of sports-entertainment? Who bettah'... than the Hoff?
Jack Hoff: This place has its fair share ah competitors that can get it done inside the circled-square. That's a Stone Cold fact. A bottom line that's as firm as a Rock. But when it comes right down to it... none of these ass-clowns can entertain fah SHIT. Seriously, if they tried tah entertain shit, shit would be all "Booo! You can't entertain me! Put on some REAL talent! Like that Hoff guy, I hear he's pretty good!" But see, that'd be pretty damn weird. Cuz when's the last time you heard a talkin' piece ah shit?
Jack Hoff: Oh wait... that's right. Last week. When Eddie Monroe cut a promo. ;-)
Jack Hoff: But evah since then? The bastard hasn't said a damn word. And ya wanna know why? It's because, through all the doubt-ahs, all the nay-say-ahs, and all the people forsakin' the Almighty Fat One, there's been one person... one person... that's laid HIS faith... in the Hoff. And that man is the one man that everyone else is sayin', "Oh, he's gonna steam-roll ovah Hoff, just cuz Hoff's all big and fat, and Eddie's all... not." But ya wanna know the TRUTH, people? This joik... he knows it. Deep down inside his cotton-pickin' heart, that toothpick of a wrassler, he knows it all too well.
Jack Hoff: MonPo... how ya EVAH gonna get past the Hoff, when I have the powah of the almighty Gods of Professional-Amateur-Fake-Ass-E-Sports-Entertainment-Wrasslin' on my side? With the might of every last element turned against ya, buddy boy... you're just sittin' there a lame duck. You're a place-holdah in this tournament, just there till the Hoff-Ster comes along... graces you with his prescence, standing before you in all of his glory... And hits one of his many, MANY, finishers.
Jack Hoff: I could play a game wit'chuz... a bit of... Rock, Paper, Scissors? Before hittin' that sweet, sweet, Rock, Paper, Scissors Bottom.
Jack Hoff: I could go low, and kick a field goal between your legs, before dropping yuz with the Stoned Stunner.
Jack Hoff: I could hit the one and ONLY Pedicure...
Jack Hoff: ... or? I could send yuz crashin' to the canvas with da Jack-Hoff Powerbomb! Hope ya don't mind landin' on ya neck. :-P
Jack Hoff: I could even grab a chair, place that sumbitch on ya nads, pick up another chair, and bring the two crashin' together, leavin' ya nuts feelin' like they just got smashed between a pair ah cymbals. I call it the "Con-Chair-Testicles". But you? You can call it 'OUCHIE!!!~1!'. Ya big baby.
Jack Hoff: Everyone looks at the Hoff as just some kinda... some kinda fuggin' STEPPIN' STONE. ... But fellas, lemme tell ya somethin'.
Jack Hoff: The Hoff? He ain't NOBODY'S steppin' stone. Fuck, the Hoff looks at each and every last one of yuz as HIS steppin' stones... a whole line ah steppin' stones, right to the otha' side ah the pond... a pond that reaches from where I stand... at the foot ah the rainbow.
Jack Hoff: And when I make that journey across the pond... when I step over yooz guys like you wanna step ovah me?
Jack Hoff: I'll come to the END of that rainbow... I'll come to the end of my perilous journey... and I'll come to a Dead End. A Dead End... and a glowing pot... filled to the very brim, with bright, shining... gold.
Jack Hoff: CHAMPIONSHIP gold.
Jack Hoff: Spectacle... Bridgeport... the Hoff finally hushes the dozens of doubters. And at Dead End? The millions... and MILLIONS of Hoff-a-Holics will FINALLY... have their Savior. They will finally have someone to look up to... someone that isn't a druggie. That's isn't smart-mouthed and egotistical. Cuz admit, I'm THE most humble person on the face of the planet! And FINALLY... the Hoff's People... the Hoff-a-Maniacs... they will all have a hero... someone that will save them from the boring crap that gets shoved down their throats non-stop.
Jack Hoff: Someone that's original. Creative. And to put it simply... Different.
Jack Hoff: Enough's enough... and it's time for a change. ... If you smell...
Jack Hoff: ... Then take a shower.
- JHoff
+ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ +
*The Writer's Home - Nowhere, Oklahoma*
*The Writer is at his computer, having just finished a review of "Scary Movie 13 and a Half", over on Rotten Tomatoes.com . He cracks his knuckles, pops his neck, and sighs.*
The Writer: Ah... typing at the computer. Nothing beats it. Except maybe sex... thank god for YouPorn.com!
*The Writer rolls around in his office chair and grabs a snack from his mini-fridge. When he turns back, he finds someone speaking to him on "AOMSNLYahew?!" Messenger...*
hoff_jack.123 : u sux0rz! u shud go bak to jack hoff, dummy!
Writer555 : ... You DO know how obvious it is that it's you, don't you Jack?
hoff_jack.123 : ........ im not jack! ............ who'z jack?!?!?! ....... dummy!!!
Writer555 : Jack... seriously. I'm not coming back to you. You need to get over it. You remember when you first came to AWE? Those weeks ago, you had focus. You had focus on your match, you had focus on your opponent. Now? You're worrying about 'ChinLocked and Loaded', you're worried about arguing with everyone and anyone on the OOC board about ANY little thing, and you're worried about getting me to come back as your narrator. But Jack, if you honestly want to succeed? If I were you, I'd drop CL&L... I'd cut back on OOC chatter... and most importantly, I'd leave ME the hell alone, and find someone that wouldn't mind putting up with your ass, as long as you kept your eye on the ball. Someone that would be able to put you in line, and in check. Jack... you want to win that tournament? I say, prove it. To the other members of the roster... and to yourself.
Writer555 : Either that, or prepare to have your ass handed to you by Monroe.
hoff_jack.123 : ....................
- hoff_jack.123 has logged out -
Writer555 : God's speed, Jack Hoff... God's speed.
- THE -