The F Word: EP #3

As the graphics morph away to reveal a studio set and “Stuck in the Middle With You” by Stealers Wheel begins to fade out, we see Winston Winfield upon the stage with his microphone in hand. He is once again joined by Bambi and Candy, who have shed their ears and tails in favor of G-string bikinis and the type of bearskin hats usually seen on the heads of British Royal Guards. As the twins gyrate and jiggle on either side of Winston, the middle-aged emcee begins his introduction.


Winston Winfield: “Ladies and gentlemen, it is once again my pleasure to welcome you to The Final Word with Julius Fairweather! This week we come to you from jolly old England, but we’re not serving tea and crumpets. Pick up a 40 and roll a fatty, as we present a new Viewer’s Verse, reveal this week’s Fab Four, drop a Final F-Bomb, and present an all-new segment that’s guaranteed to dampen James Edgebrook’s panties...with the sweat of fear! Now, without further ado, please welcome the host with the most...the only man who remains undefeated in the hearts and minds of his little motherfuckers...He is the Weatherman...He is the Shepherd of Lost Souls...He is simply Furious...Juuuuulius Fairrrrrweatherrrr!”


Winston moves aside as Bambi and Candy part the golden curtains, allowing Julius Fairweather to make his grand entrance. With a bright smile, glistening afro, and spotless suit, it looks as if Julius has fully recovered from the violent events of The Crowning, or he’s putting on one hell of a good show for his viewers. As usual, Julius exchanges a complex series of fist bumps and hand slaps with Winston before the pair make their way across the stage to the more comfortable desk and couch area. Julius remains standing behind his desk for a moment to smile and point at his live studio audience, before ultimately straightening his suit jacket and taking his seat. While Winston takes his seat on the couch and the twins shimmy behind Julius on their way to the stripper’s pole in the background, our host picks up his cue cards and gives the fans a few seconds to quiet their cheers.


Julius: “What’s up, motherfuckers? Welcome to another exciting episode of The F Word! We’re coming off of a loaded Pay-Per-View that saw new champions, contenders, and controversies all over the motherfucking place, and it’s my duty to break that shit down for you! As my main man, Winston, alluded to, we’re gonna have ourselves a new Viewer’s Verse, a new Fab Four, and a Final F-Bomb before it’s all said and done. Not only that, but I’m gonna give you all a brand new segment on tonight’s episode! Normally I would compare a pair of matches from Proving Ground and Fallout, but with only a joint pay per view to work with, I’ve had to get creative. Tonight you get to see a little piece of business I like to call, The Verge!”


Winston: “Ha ha! That sounds intriguing, sir! Care to share what your new segment will be about?”


The host of the show snaps his head toward Winston to give him a bug-eyed glare, followed by a prolonged silence as the emcee tugs at his shirt collar.


Julius: “Motherfucker, you’re about as thirsty as Jason Long with a case of dry mouth in the middle of the Sahara Desert! Good things come to those motherfuckers who wait!”


Winston: “I...uh...yes, you are correct, sir…”


Julius holds his intimidating stare at Winston for a few more seconds before eventually turning his attention back to the camera with his huge, charming smile.


Julius: “Now then, before we go any further, I have a confession to make. You may not have noticed with my motherfucking accent, but this has been my first trip to the UK, and so far, my ass ain’t impressed. I watched Hot Fuzz on repeat during the flight over just to prepare myself for you motherfuckers, and I ain’t once been told to “switch off” or “jog on”. I ate the fish and chips, I took my picture on Abbey Road, and I walked the motherfucking Jack the Ripper tour. But what do I have to show for my efforts? First degree burns and more splinters in my ass than I can count! Despite all of that, I’m still gonna give you limey motherfuckers the best damn show you’ve ever seen, and it’s all in the name of the greater good.”


Studio Audience: “The greater good.”


Julius pauses and looks at the audience with a cocked eyebrow, slightly unnerved by their dry repetition of his last words.


Julius: “Riiiight. Anyway, let’s kick things off with a brand new Viewer’s Verse! This week’s rhyme comes to us from right here in England and was written by a true Motherfucking Friend of Fairweather named Stevie.”


Julius focuses his attention on the blue cue card in his hand and begins to recite the latest “Viewer’s Verse”.



Upon finishing the rhyme, Julius looks up to the camera with his eyes bugging out and his mouth hanging open.


Julius: “Daaaaamn! Big Drip’s getting about as much love in Viewer’s Verse as they do from the ladies! That was a harsh rhyme, Stevie, but I respect your hustle and flow, motherfucker! Coming up next is the very first edition of The Verge, but first, here’s a word from one of our fine motherfucking sponsors!”


Narrator: “You give her the highest quality food, the best toys, and all of your affection. Isn’t it time that you gave your precious little pet the kind of kitty litter that she deserves? No, we’re not talking about the same old litter that you would use for just any housecat. We’re talking about Tidy Catgirl Litter! With a special formula designed to cover up even the strongest odors, yet gentle on her manicured paws, Tidy Catgirl guarantees 24/7 performance. So if you have a special catgirl in your life or you are a catgirl yourself, you deserve nothing but the best, and that’s why we’ve created the best.


Tidy Catgirl...for when you can’t resist the urge to shit in a box.




When we return to The F-Word, Julius is still seated behind his desk and is shaking his head back and forth.


Julius: “As a responsible host, I pride myself on trying out each and every one of our motherfucking sponsors. I had Bambi and Candy try out that product just last week, and after Winston scooped that shit up, we dropped it in a bag and left it burning outside of Christian DeMarco’s office. Burning catgirl droppings never smelled so motherfucking good!”


Studio Audience: “The greater good.”


Julius pauses again, warily looking at his studio audience out of the corner of his eye.


Julius: “That ain’t even what I said…”


He then shakes off the strange behavior of his audience and manages to regain his smile.


Julius: “Anyway, it’s now time for a brand new segment on The F-Word! It’s a little something I like to call, “The Verge”, and it’s entirely dedicated to that little motherfucker named James Edgebrook and dissecting his last show! Cue that beautiful graphic, Winston!”



Julius: “So after a painfully long introduction, James likes to welcome all the new competitors who have joined Project: Honor. Can you imagine that shit? Your first introduction to this company is that skinny motherfucker putting out the welcome mat? Imagine putting your name on that dotted line, hoping you’ve made the right career move, and then you’re welcomed to the dance by Steve Urkel’s pale twin! That’s like getting penicillin and a tetanus shot in your Air BNB gift basket! So on behalf of Project: Honor, allow me to do this shit the right way!”




Julius: “We’ve got a pop idol badass, a party animal looking for an easy road to the top, a used car salesman with a smile that rivals my own, a brilliant and beautiful lady who should give me a call if James Raven doesn’t work out, and a self-made man looking to prove he’s still got what it takes. Welcome to Project: Honor, motherfuckers! Prepare yourselves for pain, suffering, blood loss and all the glory that goes with them! As some of you learned from The Crowning, you’re gonna lose some and you’re gonna win some, but no matter what, the beatings you’re about to endure are from the bottom of our hearts! Now all aboard the motherfucking pain train!”


The images of the new arrivals fade from the screen as Julius prepares to move on to the next part of his segment.


Julius: “Following that, our boy James likes to highlight some of the recent offerings found on motherfucking Twitter. Now as you all know, I am that platform’s “Most Suave Motherfucker”, but I’m not hot about being left off of Edgebrook’s show. What gets me hot is Twitter’s real action! What could I be talking about? How about this, motherfuckers?!”



Julius: “Now you might be asking yourselves, who is that and what does it have to do with Project: Honor? The answers are “I don’t know” and “Not a goddamn thing”! What I do know is that I’d rather look at her than a shirtless Scottish sasquatch on social security any day of the goddamn week! There’s being topical and there’s entertainment, and I know my motherfucking audience! Although the picture of Elena DeDraca that Edgebrook displayed wasn't so bad...”


The captured Tweet fades from the screen, as once again, Julius moves ahead with his review of The Edge.


Julius: “This next part is what everyone tunes in to see, cause Project: Honor doesn’t have an official ranking system. Instead, we get James Ellsworth...I mean Edgebrook, offering up his Elite Seven. How does he make his picks? What’s his criteria? Beats the hell out of me, but I have my own graphic that shows the Top Seven motherfuckers that are really on his mind!”



Julius: “Ha ha! Now that’s what I’m talking about motherfuckers! But even if you don’t agree with my assessment, I know you’ll agree with this next part. This shit right here burns my ass like a waist-high bonfire. Month after month, James Edgebrook has been predicting winners and losers for the upcoming shows. Now I can’t bust on him too hard for his picks, because the little motherfucker actually got a lot right last week. But what I can do is ask how that asthmatic motherfucker is qualified to judge our asses!? James Edgebrook ain’t never laced up a pair of boots, let alone stepped into the motherfucking ring!”


As he continues to rant, Julius’ eyes become more bugged out and his voice grows louder with every sentence.


Julius: “And if his predictions aren’t enough, he brought in Lil’ Petey as a guest! Lil’ Petey! Motherfucker, are you high? My ratings might be spiking higher than the 'Rona at a Don Jr. Rally, but ain’t no special guests gonna save your ass! Don’t get me wrong, I’m down with The Drip, but getting him to say anything in English is harder than pulling a rabbit out of my motherfucking hat. And I don’t wear hats, motherfucker! Then to top it all off, Jimmy ends his show by handing out medals to the motherfuckers he thinks did the best work. Well I happen to have a medal of my own, and I call it the ”Bullshit Talks When Edgebrook Squawks” medal. This week’s winner and the only winner for the foreseeable future? James motherfucking Edgebrook!”


It’s beginning to look as if Julius’ eyes are literally going to explode from his skull as he huffs, puffs, and stares at the camera in a motherfuckerly manner.


Julius: “So after judging our hard-working asses week after week, the shoe is now on the other motherfucking foot! On behalf of both rosters, I hereby find you guilty of tabloid journalism and sentence you to a boot up the ass!”


With the veins in his neck threatening to burst, it seems as if Julius has finally finished his rant on James Edgebrook as he falls momentarily silent. Then, with his eyes still bulging out of their sockets, he begins to shout one more time.


Julius: “Now go to commercial, motherfuckers! I need to put lotion on these burns!”





Narrator: “Only one professional wrestling company has taken the world by storm since it’s debut last July, but this Spring it will reach newfound heights of recognition and renown. From the producer of “How I Banged Your Mother” and the director of “Game of Bones” comes the latest in adult cinema parodies. Prepare yourself for...



Narrator: "Featuring the biggest stars in modern adult film, watch this no-holds-barred battle royal come to life as you’ve never seen it before. Thrill to pulse-pounding tag team action as The Common Filth team of Dick Me Thotson and Achin’ Rednards take on the vivacious pairing of Legs I See, featuring Shawna Whorestein and Jamie Shaven. From there, watch OzzyMan DoUs bring his own special delivery of tentacled fury to bear against Patty the Postwoman. Then, it’s two-on-one action as Cindy Rawling finds herself without a partner as she goes against Harry Marshballs and Face Lord, collectively known as Sexual Experimentation XPress. And lastly, it’s a three way for more than just bragging rights as MYORGAN, Dex Stiffen, and Shaggo Dandiago let it all hang out in the ring." 




Narrator: “Project: On Her, coming this spring from Axel Braun Productions. Because you haven’t made the big time until we’ve cashed in with a parody.”




Julius: “Welcome back to The F-Word! Bambi and Candy have just rubbed Aloe Vera all over my sleek and aerodynamic self, and I’m feeling much more chill. As for that last sponsor, I happened to get myself an advanced copy, and I highly recommend that none of you motherfuckers watch it. Shawna Whorestein’s got it goin’ on, but once they got into Ozzy Man DoUs and those motherfucking tentacles, my ass checked out. But have no fear, I ain’t about to check out on you all now, cause it’s time to find out who was good and who was great!”


Studio Audience: “The greater good.”


Julius looks as if he’s going to lose his shit again, but he manages to take a deep breath and push forward.


Julius: “Ahem, as I was saying, it’s time for Fairweather’s Fab Four!”



Julius: “This first motherfucker had one hell of a night at The Crowning. He beat three other chumps to earn himself a shot at TJ Thompson and The Warrior Rising Championship! Now Euan has been around here for a minute, and he’s had his share of ups and downs, but to my eyes, the motherfucker keeps improving every time out. Now he finds himself in a title opportunity, and as much as I enjoy Gerald the Giraffe, I’m not convinced he’ll be enough to help TJ get past this freaky hillbilly when the bell rings. I ain’t calling it just yet, but for kicking off the Pay-Per-View with a win and putting himself into contention, Euan Hill is in this week’s Fab Four. Congratulations, motherfucker!”



Julius: “My, my, my! What do we have here? Back from the abyss comes the lovely and dangerous Contessa Floran! Now you all might be wondering how she earned this spot, cause she didn’t even have a match at The Crowning. Yet she still made her presence known! Not only did she have some promotional footage to share, but she interjected herself into the Prime Championship Match and caused all sorts of chaos! She messed with a man’s motorcycle, tore off the side of the cage, and was looking to help Drago steal some gold. Hell, I had to get my own ass involved, because you all know if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a motherfucker trying to bend the rules! (Julius gives the camera a sly wink.) Despite the melee that unfolded from there, the alluring Miss Floran caught my motherfucking attention and let the entire world know that she was back in the game. For making a statement and convincing my ass to put down my pre-match smoke, she’s found her way into my Fab Four. Congrats, motherfucker!”



Julius: “Coming up next for Proving Ground is another motherfucker that didn’t have a match at The Crowning. Hell, I can’t remember the last time he had a match in Project: Honor, but all that’s about to change. The new tyrant has decreed that his tag team partner will be booked for upcoming shows and his wish has been granted. In addition to the big motherfucking tag match at the next Proving Ground, Legacy are set to defend their tag titles at Fallout’s Wired Consequences. That means we’re all about to get a reminder of why they won the inaugural Tag Team Tournament. So why did I put Raven here and not Warstein? For one, if Shawn’s head gets any bigger that motherfucking crown ain’t gonna fit right. Plus, James has managed to score himself a world class hottie and he’s the second most suave motherfucker on Twitter! So congratulations, motherfucker!”



Julius: “Last but not least is a brother I’ve had my eyes on since he made his debut. First of all, this kid was raised in Detroit, which happens to be my own stomping grounds. That alone tells me that he’s motor city tough, even if he is somewhat of a motherfucking boy scout. I keep thinking that once he finds his footing, he could set the wrestling world on fire, and he showed signs of that when he smacked Zack with a kendo stick and got a fall in the Ascension Championship Match. Unfortunately for my boy, Eli, the clock ran out before he could get his hands on Daniel Horror. If that clock had just a little more time on it...well...who knows? Either way, I can see Eli earning contendership for the Ascension or Noble Championships in the near future, and for that, he’s made it into my Fab Four. Congratulations, my brother!”


The graphics fade from the screen, as we are greeted with a close-up of Julius behind his desk.


Julius: “Those may not be the motherfuckers who had the biggest couple of weeks, but they’re the ones to watch in the weeks to come! Now that I’ve given you my Fab Four, you know what’s coming next. It’s time to reveal which motherfucker earned himself The F-Grade. Now some of y’all might be thinking that I’d put Kayla Richards in this spot, seeing as how she took my ass off the top of a ladder and through a flaming motherfucking table, but that’s not how Julius plays the game. After all, I would have done the same to her if I’d have been thinking with the proper head. No, the only motherfucker I’m putting the blame on is the one that made the burning pile of pain in the first place…”



Julius: “That’s right, Pyro. You finally get your name on The F-Word, only there ain’t nothing fabulous about your homeless hairstyle or arson-like aroma. No, motherfucker, you made the F-Grade! First of all, didn't nobody tell this motherfucker that Frankenstein is supposed to be afraid of fire? Then, for some reason, this motherfucker has had his eye on my beautiful head of hair for weeks, and at The Crowning he almost got to see it go up in flames. If the world knew how much product I put in this motherfucker, the fire marshal would have shut that shit down in a heartbeat. We’re talking about a mushroom cloud-making motherfucker, motherfucker!”


Julius takes a moment to shake his head in frustration and disbelief.


Julius: “It’s like a wise man once said, “Some men only want to watch the world burn”. Pyro is one of those men. Not only does he want to light me up like a red light in Amsterdam, but he actually hates my motherfucking show! You heard me right! He hates The F-Word! That’s like hating multiple orgasms on Christmas morning, motherfucker! If there is an anti-Motherfucking Friend of Fairweather, his name is Pyro. Maybe it’s because he’s hot and bothered while I’m cool as ice, or maybe he just needs to take out his frustrations since his wife bailed on his ass. Now I’m sure our paths are gonna cross again, seeing as how we’re both on Fallout, but you’d better believe my ass will be wearing asbestos underwear, motherfucker! Until that day comes, Pyro, the only thing I’ve got to say to you is, “Bitch, be cool!”. Enjoy your F-Grade, motherfucker, cause my back still feels like the inside of a Hot Pocket! I was on fire, motherfuckers!”


Julius turns from the camera after finishing his presentation of the F Grade, giving a bright smile to the secondary camera on the opposite side, his anger over Pyro quickly fading.


Julius: “If you were hoping to see your ass in the Fab Four or maybe even earn yourself an F-Grade like Sunny Jim the Fireman, have no fear! I’m always watching and I know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sakes!”


Studio Audience: “The greater good.”


Julius: “You creepy cricket-watching motherfuckers...I’ll be right back after this commercial break for The Final F-Bomb! Stay tuned, motherfuckers!”





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Following the final commercial break, we return to Julius as he sits behind his desk with a Cheshire Cat-like grin.


Julius: “Here’s a big shout-out to Tidy Catgirls, Axel Braun Productions, Proving Grounds Coffee, and The Big Dripper Coffee Maker for sponsoring this week’s episode of The F-Word. Do a solid for this motherfucker and buy their shit so I can keep slinging mine.”


Julius turns his chair to face the second camera, as a graphic for The F-Bomb appears on the screen.


Julius: “That just about does it for another episode, but you know I can’t leave you all without dropping that last F-Bomb. This week, the letter F stands for farewell. Project: Honor had some casualties after The Crowning, and while many are happy to fill those vacant spots or be rid of their rivals, my ass lost a strip club wingman, a chance at vengeance, and one of the inaugural Motherfucking Friends of Fairweather. So with that in mind…”


Julius opens a desk drawer and pulls out a large bottle of Hennessey. He looks at the camera with a smirk as he twists off the lid, holds the bottle to his lips, and takes a big swig.


Julius: “One for me…”


He then begins to tip the bottle on its side as if he’s going to pour one out for his homies, but then changes his mind and takes another big drink from the bottle.


Julius: “And another one for me.”


He puts the lid back on and places the bottle on his desk, still giving the camera that smooth grin.


Julius: “I’ve still got a whole lot of homies watching this motherfucker, and you can bet your sweet asses that I ain’t going nowhere. Ain’t no tears up in this motherfucker, cause one man’s farewell is another’s hello, and on the next Fallout my ass is saying hello to the main event. I look at that Fallout line-up and I see a suave motherfucker at the top of the card. Now that’s what I call an upgrade.”


The camera begins to pull back to show Winston on the couch and the twins seductively dancing on their stripper pole.


Julius: “So while it may seem like we have a revolving door from time to time, this motherfucker is a constant you can put your money on. Ain’t no motherfucker gonna make my ass say farewell unless it’s the brother signing my checks. And judging from all those zeros, I’m feeling pretty motherfucking appreciated. But if you can’t take the smooth stylings I’m dishing out and you decide to say farewell like so many before you, don’t forget to tip the doorman on your way out. He’ll be the one with the name tag that reads “Bad Motherfucker”. On that note, it’s time for me to say farewell to all you freaky motherfuckers and your greater good.”


Studio Audience: “The greater good.”


Julius lets out a sigh, but ultimately ignores the rural English cultists that make up his studio audience.


Julius: “Until next time, Motherfucking Friends of Fairweather, remember that you’ve always got a friend in me.”


The camera continues to pull away as Julius and Winston exchange a complex series of fist bumps upon the completion of another episode. As the credits begin to roll, Cake’s cover of “I Will Survive” begins to play, bringing The F-Word to it’s ever-loving conclusion.



If you would like to be a member of the studio audience for The F Word with Julius Fairweather, contribute to segments such as Viewer’s Verse, or advertise your product during the show, send your hand written correspondence along with your social security number and primary banking information to: