[hider=Slightly Mature Content]Humph. Who watches a literal giant hit a man with another man, killing both instantly, and thinks to himself, “I want to get in on that shit,”? Probably feeble minded, that one. Real big, real ugly. Looks like the only thing coming out of his mouth any time soon was, “brains…,” and random groaning noises. Billuh would have said, “Hey der budduh, ya her’ da take dat der body away?” if he was actually capable of understanding that the referee was, in fact, dead in Gonads hands. Billuh couldn’t really understand death, couldn’t be allowed to, only the artificial mind knew the reality of this situation. It was also aware that it would be best to let Gonad handle this one, no use in having Billuh face Gonad as well as the entirety of the human wrestling community, no doubt sooner or later there would even be celebrity guests trying to get in on the action. 

Of course, there’s hardly any use in the synthetic brain trying to keep Billuh from clobbering anyone who tries to interrupt him in the middle of a bout of Wrastlin’. In his mind’s eye he never registered the dead referee, the hairless boy whacked into the crowd, the sudden darkness, or the bell. He saw only that, yet again, some random big ass human was trying to get in on his Wrastlin’ unannounced. Hadn’t actually clobbered anyone from out of nowhere, but he clearly wasn’t like the referee, he wasn’t some giant standing in between Billuh and his opponent for shits and giggles or whatever it is that referees are for, gnomes didn’t really have a similar official in their Wrastlin’ tradition. He was here intentionally regardless of whether he had hit anyone yet or not, and if he had the nerve to wander in here getting in the way of business then he was fair game. 

“Like I dun toll da last one, boyuhh, dis her’ mah biggun! Billuh Bob Gnome!!” and, after his traditional overly dramatic battle cry of, well, his own name, his hands dropped to his hips, his left forming a triangle between his shoulder, flank and hip, his right moving in between his thighs and, for no apparent reason and to the utter chagrin of his synthetic mind, Billuh Bob casually started pissing on the Undertaker’s boots, whistling a jaunty tune all the while. A second in and a single fart squeaked out, "oh, a, 'scuse me der budduh," and, unless he was actually physically stopped, Billuh would simply go on pissing on the undertaker, apparently not actually at all concerned with the potential repercussions. Being a robot Billuh doesn’t actually produce urine, and the piss is essentially ale and recycled synthetic blood, but the effect is still the same. After all, it’s not every day in a professional wrestler’s life that a hundred twenty year old nude gnome hillbilly casually starts pissing on your boots in the middle of a wrestling match in front of hundreds of onlookers.[/hider]