Post by Deleted on Apr 7, 2007 3:18:31 GMT -5
As the jet airplane touched down in Scotland, Bobby Cairo adjusted his pants. Cairo has traveled the world many times with many sexy ladies, but this time was different. Cairo knew that he would be meeting the mother of his arch nemesis, Lawnmower Jones. Would she be a sexy lady or a mean old hag? Would she offer Bobby sexual favors at fair prices? These questions raced through Cairo's mind like so many drunken frat girls in a high-speed pursuit with state police. Cairo urinated in an airport stall before grabbing a hamburger and a cheap hooker. After Cairo's urges had been satisfied, he hopped into his rented convertible and began the long drive to meet Mrs. Jones.
Bobby Cairo: Oh, Lippan, when will thy conjure thyself? I've been waiting for ages and thou have so thoroughly disappointed me. I just want to celebrate...yeah yeah.
After eight hours, a moose crossing and three piss breaks, Cairo finally arrived at the Jones residence in the coastal town of Periwinkle. The Jones house is a centuries old cobblestone manor located conveniently along the Hoonang peninsula. Lobster and swordfish populate the coastal waters and provide much money for the porters who entrap them and sell them on the open market. Cairo makes his way along the cobblestone path to the front entrance with his briefcase in hand. Cairo rat-a-tat-taps on the giant old-fashioned door-knocking thing and waits for a response. The door opens and in its place appears a middle-aged man in drag.
Bobby Cairo: Yikes! Uhm...are you Mrs. Urbina Jones, mother of WCF superstar Declan "Lawnmower" Jones?
Mrs. Jones: Yesh indied, I am Mrs. Jones and I prezuyume that you are Mr. Keero?
Bobby Cairo: Hello, Mrs. Jones. My name is Robert Heathcliff Cairo. I work with your son in the professional wrestling business. You know, the fake stuff.
Mrs. Jones: Plays do come in, Mr. Keero.
Cairo enters the premises and is immediately struck by the stale order of mustard and dead bodies. Cairo takes a seat upon the old antique sofa that looks like something out of a Dickens novel.
Bobby Cairo: Looks like something out of a Dickens novel.
Mrs. Jones: Indied it ayes, Mr. Keero. I poorchised this antear decker from the lite Mr. Daykens. He wooz me dear frined. Would you keer for a spote of tea, Mr. Keero?
Bobby Cairo: No, thank you. Gosh, I have a so many questions that I would love to ask you, Mrs. Jones. For example, what are the roots of your son's extreme anti-social and psychotic behavior?
Mrs. Jones: I suppice me wee little Declan hahzent bin quite thee same since Boys Meets World was cahncelled.
Bobby Cairo: Boy Meets World? That was the show with Fred Savage's little brother and that cute Jewish girl?
Mrs. Jones: Yes indayed, thaht's thee one. Me poor little Declan was obsissed with thaht peerticular programme. He weeped and weeped on thee day it all wint dowhn.
Bobby Cairo: Hmm...
Mrs. Jones: Declan had thee pahster graahfs all ohver his bid room walls. He would faahnticize to be frindes with thee children on thee shoe.
Bobby Cairo: Are you telling me that Lawnmower Jones dreamed about being a cast member of Boy Meets World?
Mrs. Jones: Not exaahctly, Mr.Keero. Declan did not understaahnd thaht thee shoe was a shoe. He thote it to be real.
Bobby Cairo: Wow...that dude is so fucked up. When did your son start having sex with lawnmowers?
Mrs. Jones: Offter Boy Meets World was cahncelled, Declan needed a new obsission. My late hoosband Edgar was mewing the lahn win deh as Declan was walking home from shewl. Declan became enrahptured by the weaving and bohbing of the mewer along the grahss. Me little Declan had become aroused by a lahnmewer.
Bobby Cairo: How did you react to your son's newfangled sexual fetish?
Mrs. Jones: Inahshully I was not consahned, but win deh I waltzed in on him and the mewer, I believe he nahmed her Lonnie, Declan had his pahnts dune around his anhkles and his wee bitty wee wee was stewkh in Lonnie's fueltahnk. In that mewment I knew that leefe would nuever be the sahme. I was so beside meself that I at an enteer cahn of tuhna. I hahd kneever done thaht before.
Bobby Cairo: That's incredible. I never knew any of this stuff about LJ. Your son always conducts himself in such a brusque fashion, I naturally assumed that he had been brutalized by a gang of motorcycle rebels and left for dead as a young child.
Mrs. Jones: New, nothing like thaht.
Bobby Cairo: I attempted to become homeboys with your son, but my attempt was in vain. My journey was fraught with peril.
Mrs. Jones: Waht err yew sahng to me?
Bobby Cairo: I want you to know that your son will die on Sunday...live on pay per view television.
Cairo jumps up from the sofa and, with his bare hands, chokes the shit out of Mrs. Jones. Cairo throws Mrs. Jones to the floor and reaches for his briefcase. Cairo opens the briefcase and pulls out the Northern States Imperial Championship title belt.
Bobby Cairo: Do you see this championship title belt, young man? This belt means that I am the best wrestler from the lakes of Minnesota to the shores of New Jersey! You got a problem with that, young man? Bite my butt! The Man of the Hour has spoken!
Cairo picks Mrs. Jones up by her throat and drops her through the coffee table with the Security Breach. Not satisfied yet, Cairo pulls down his pants and sticks his ass in Mrs. Jones' wrinkled old face.
Bobby Cairo: Bite my butt, young man! Bite it, goddamnit!
Mrs. Jones uses the last strength in her body to gently bite Cairo's ass. Cairo immediately responds by unleashing a potent, noxious and all-encompassing unabomber right in Mrs. Jones' nostrils.
Bobby Cairo: Soak it in, Mrs. Jones. It just don't get no better than that! Chris Benoit can't make that. Shannan Lerch can't make that. Only Bobby Cairo can make that! Now can you dig it, suuuuuuucccccckkkkaaahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!
Cairo takes one look back at the lifeless form of the old woman on the hardwood floor. Cairo smirks likes a snide little ragamuffin, grabs his title belt and makes a run for it. Cairo manages to sneak into his convertible and speed away while the authorities and their bloodhounds are searching for suspects.
Bobby Cairo: Oh, Lippan, when will thy conjure thyself? I've been waiting for ages and thou have so thoroughly disappointed me. I just want to celebrate...yeah yeah.
After eight hours, a moose crossing and three piss breaks, Cairo finally arrived at the Jones residence in the coastal town of Periwinkle. The Jones house is a centuries old cobblestone manor located conveniently along the Hoonang peninsula. Lobster and swordfish populate the coastal waters and provide much money for the porters who entrap them and sell them on the open market. Cairo makes his way along the cobblestone path to the front entrance with his briefcase in hand. Cairo rat-a-tat-taps on the giant old-fashioned door-knocking thing and waits for a response. The door opens and in its place appears a middle-aged man in drag.
Bobby Cairo: Yikes! Uhm...are you Mrs. Urbina Jones, mother of WCF superstar Declan "Lawnmower" Jones?
Mrs. Jones: Yesh indied, I am Mrs. Jones and I prezuyume that you are Mr. Keero?
Bobby Cairo: Hello, Mrs. Jones. My name is Robert Heathcliff Cairo. I work with your son in the professional wrestling business. You know, the fake stuff.
Mrs. Jones: Plays do come in, Mr. Keero.
Cairo enters the premises and is immediately struck by the stale order of mustard and dead bodies. Cairo takes a seat upon the old antique sofa that looks like something out of a Dickens novel.
Bobby Cairo: Looks like something out of a Dickens novel.
Mrs. Jones: Indied it ayes, Mr. Keero. I poorchised this antear decker from the lite Mr. Daykens. He wooz me dear frined. Would you keer for a spote of tea, Mr. Keero?
Bobby Cairo: No, thank you. Gosh, I have a so many questions that I would love to ask you, Mrs. Jones. For example, what are the roots of your son's extreme anti-social and psychotic behavior?
Mrs. Jones: I suppice me wee little Declan hahzent bin quite thee same since Boys Meets World was cahncelled.
Bobby Cairo: Boy Meets World? That was the show with Fred Savage's little brother and that cute Jewish girl?
Mrs. Jones: Yes indayed, thaht's thee one. Me poor little Declan was obsissed with thaht peerticular programme. He weeped and weeped on thee day it all wint dowhn.
Bobby Cairo: Hmm...
Mrs. Jones: Declan had thee pahster graahfs all ohver his bid room walls. He would faahnticize to be frindes with thee children on thee shoe.
Bobby Cairo: Are you telling me that Lawnmower Jones dreamed about being a cast member of Boy Meets World?
Mrs. Jones: Not exaahctly, Mr.Keero. Declan did not understaahnd thaht thee shoe was a shoe. He thote it to be real.
Bobby Cairo: Wow...that dude is so fucked up. When did your son start having sex with lawnmowers?
Mrs. Jones: Offter Boy Meets World was cahncelled, Declan needed a new obsission. My late hoosband Edgar was mewing the lahn win deh as Declan was walking home from shewl. Declan became enrahptured by the weaving and bohbing of the mewer along the grahss. Me little Declan had become aroused by a lahnmewer.
Bobby Cairo: How did you react to your son's newfangled sexual fetish?
Mrs. Jones: Inahshully I was not consahned, but win deh I waltzed in on him and the mewer, I believe he nahmed her Lonnie, Declan had his pahnts dune around his anhkles and his wee bitty wee wee was stewkh in Lonnie's fueltahnk. In that mewment I knew that leefe would nuever be the sahme. I was so beside meself that I at an enteer cahn of tuhna. I hahd kneever done thaht before.
Bobby Cairo: That's incredible. I never knew any of this stuff about LJ. Your son always conducts himself in such a brusque fashion, I naturally assumed that he had been brutalized by a gang of motorcycle rebels and left for dead as a young child.
Mrs. Jones: New, nothing like thaht.
Bobby Cairo: I attempted to become homeboys with your son, but my attempt was in vain. My journey was fraught with peril.
Mrs. Jones: Waht err yew sahng to me?
Bobby Cairo: I want you to know that your son will die on Sunday...live on pay per view television.
Cairo jumps up from the sofa and, with his bare hands, chokes the shit out of Mrs. Jones. Cairo throws Mrs. Jones to the floor and reaches for his briefcase. Cairo opens the briefcase and pulls out the Northern States Imperial Championship title belt.
Bobby Cairo: Do you see this championship title belt, young man? This belt means that I am the best wrestler from the lakes of Minnesota to the shores of New Jersey! You got a problem with that, young man? Bite my butt! The Man of the Hour has spoken!
Cairo picks Mrs. Jones up by her throat and drops her through the coffee table with the Security Breach. Not satisfied yet, Cairo pulls down his pants and sticks his ass in Mrs. Jones' wrinkled old face.
Bobby Cairo: Bite my butt, young man! Bite it, goddamnit!
Mrs. Jones uses the last strength in her body to gently bite Cairo's ass. Cairo immediately responds by unleashing a potent, noxious and all-encompassing unabomber right in Mrs. Jones' nostrils.
Bobby Cairo: Soak it in, Mrs. Jones. It just don't get no better than that! Chris Benoit can't make that. Shannan Lerch can't make that. Only Bobby Cairo can make that! Now can you dig it, suuuuuuucccccckkkkaaahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!
Cairo takes one look back at the lifeless form of the old woman on the hardwood floor. Cairo smirks likes a snide little ragamuffin, grabs his title belt and makes a run for it. Cairo manages to sneak into his convertible and speed away while the authorities and their bloodhounds are searching for suspects.
