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Post by Bobby Bourbon on Jan 21, 2023 2:33:23 GMT
The streets of Alexandria, Virginia, at night. The town glows, alive, but ready for bed. Cars pass along at a leisurely pace, their headlights glowing in rhythm with the stop lights, crossing signals, and gas stations at this particular stretch. It’s here, on this street corner, that a sign of particular significance rests, reading “Bourbon Dojo for the Competitive Arts”. Beneath it, a goddess stands. A couple walk past, and it’s obvious that she’s taller than most, well past six feet in her heels, her voracious hourglass figure cloaked in black, her striking face stealing the entire scene. Cheekbones big enough to club a man to death with, her perky lips set even above a defined, curved chin, her massive green eyes surveying the night. The fiery mane atop her head cascades down around her shoulders. If Jessica Rabbit were real, you’re looking at her. Juxtapose, though every bit as tall if not moreso without heels, Bobby Bourbon walks up. His eyes widen and he quickly waves, almost as a reaction. Hi!She smiles and looks at him. Hey!Bobby stops, frozen, just staring with a silly smile on his face, like it was Christmas morning. She chuckles. I, um, I just got here.Bobby, still locked in some form of stasis by the sight of the woman, doesn’t budge. Okay.Bobby takes a breath and blinks as she smiles. I did too. You look amazing.Thank you. I think I look alright.She steps forwards and touches Bobby’s shoulder, seemingly shaking him out of the stupor found in her splendor. He breathes, making a deep humming grunt as he exhales, and embraces her, kissing her gently. He leans back and resumes his gaze, this time for more confident and fixed. Hi. Hey. You ready?I, uh, I guess? I know you wanted to show me your dojo…Is it a flex? I can’t tell if it’s a big flex or anything. No, no, not at all! I mean, I showed you my lair when we killed all those Elvis impersonators, and I like how you’re such a Bond villain.Bobby blushes. Stahp.The somewhat cute, sugary whole of it cascades as we see Bobby seated at his desk, the same serene look of contentment on his face as he looked at the woman. He pulls he phone off of his desk and swipes at the screen, and we see he’s finding a contact listed as Bouncy Brickhouse. He boops at the icon to send a text, and we watch his thick and calloused thumbs type away. “Thinking of you, hope you’re having a great day!” Bobby hits send and lays his phone back on his desk. From across the desk we hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. At this time we notice, crammed on a couch, are a motley group of hooligans best known as the Bourbon People. Cyberjaw, the man with the Cybernetic Jaw, MIT and Stanford dropout, yes he enrolled in both and dropped out of both because twice as edgy as any other gadgeteer. Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, not a master of disguise but the absolute master of being a wallflower on the cusp of any periphery. Ash, Bobby’s stylist, but she does other stuff though when not cutting hair. Axe Mannix, axe man on Xanax, a guy who doesn’t do much but he does have a cool guitar axe or something. Yo, bro. Why did you need us here?Bobby looks up from his phone and at his crack support team. Oh, yeah, totally blanked. So, as you’ve heard, I’m going out and competing in the Keys 2 Success in IIW, which is massive. I’m amped, because I haven’t gotten some blood on my claws in a while, and if they want to feed me a buffet of bodies, well, damn, what kind of guest would I be if I denied their hospitality! As such, we need…Bobby’s phone gives an alert. The screen flashes a pale white as we hear the bass riff from the opening of every PornHub video. Bobby picks up his phone immediately mid-sentence. I thought you changed that, it’s tacky!Bobby is too wrapped in whatever is on his screen to acknowledge the statement. He smirks and types away, replacing his phone. The rest of the Bourbon People look on, rolling their eyes, as though this had been going on for some time this afternoon. Bobby!Yeah!What do we need? I dunno, I don’t write the grocery list! Those are just details, and did you get me my tickets to the White Lotus yet?The what?Yeah, two tickets to the White Lotus. That place isn’t real.Yeah it is, great docu-drama series about it on Netflix. Go google it.You google it!Bobby rolls his eyes and googles White Lotus on his phone. A moment later he purses his lips and shakes his head. Whatever, I want to go someplace like that.They exist! Yeah, those all inclusive resorts for the super rich are real! And they have all the intrigue?No.Not really.You just get booze and brunch.Grah.Bobby slams his left fist on his desk in frustration, running the palm of his right hand through his hair. I can get booze at a gas station, and brunch isn’t a meal it’s just a way of life. That sucks, do you think they make a resort with a murder mystery intrigue where you know one guest will die by the end but you’re not really sure who while some very quirky upbeat young ladies roam around living their best lives, a middle aged man has some reconciliation, and Jennifer Coolidge just steals the show?No, Bobby, that’s just the show you described.Bobby smiles. Then I have an idea. We’re going to open up just what I described, the first ever reverse murder mystery resort catering to the social elite! Hell, every super rich TV fan will line up around the block to get into the action! A-listers! B-listers! Movers and shakers, people in high finance!So you want to open a business to prepare for Keys 2 Success? Why not!? I think I aught to instruct the world about the intangible virtues of American success!You mean “excess”?Same fucking difference! With that, the door to the office swings open, and through it walks the same redhead from Bobby’s daydreams. She closes it behind her as Bobby haplessly watches placidly. She pivots with an elegance unparalleled greeting Bobby with a smile. Oh, sorry, am I interrupting? Yeah, Bobby was about to…Bobby sharply snaps his fingers and points at Cyberjaw without removing his locked gaze from the woman. No, Bouncy, Bobby was just having us sit here for an hour while he texted you, we thought we were in for a brainstorming session.Oh? Hah.Bouncy laughs as Bobby smiles right back. Bobby, you really shouldn’t besmirch your henchmen so much, I mean they do like ninety percent of your work, haven’t you ever played Carmen Sandiego?Nah, she played me and TK one time though. Where is your friend Thunder? Oh, he’s off in another company doing things.Okay. Well, I think I scared him last time.And that precludes a flashback. ~~~~~ We see Thunder Knuckles, best friend and tag team partner of Bobby Bourbon. He’s standing with his eyes wide looking at his own cracked phone screen. He glances up and smirks, viewing Bobby himself, caked with blood stains and ash, arm in arm with Bouncy Brickhouse, who too is head to to in gore and the signs of fire. Bobby gives Bouncy a slight peck on the cheek, immediately spitting out the gob of blood placed there to the ground as Bouncy laughs with glee. Bobby looks at TK. Hey, bro, sorry, this is Bouncy, we, uh, we were getting barbecue.Bouncy laughs. Roasted and smoked pork!TK holds his phone up, showing the two what he was looking at. It’s a clip from some social media or another showing a video of a white power rally in progress. Suddenly a massive explosion rocks the entire thing as a fire bomb goes off, and in the resulting chaos, Bobby and Bouncy are seen slaughtering nazis and alt-righters of all affiliated ilk with their bare hands. Bobby snortles. Well, cat’s out of the bag…TK and Bobby exchange a no look fistbump as Bobby leans in and licks Bouncy’s face like a tiger clearing the face of another. Bouncy laughs, rolling her eyes, completely noticing the fistbump. ~~~~~ Meanwhile, here in the now. Nah, nah, he thinks you’re healthy for me.Bobby is standing now, sauntering towards Bouncy. Bouncy smiles coyly, propping herself up against the door she just entered. I can be toxic.Let’s get toxic.Bouncy grips the chest of Bobby’s shirt and pulls him in. As she does, we hear the sound of one of the Bourbon People clearing their throat again. Are we doing this?I’m not really here for this.Bobby rolls his eyes. Grasping Bouncy by the waist he leads her away gently from the door, opening it with the other hand and gesturing towards the Bourbon People to leave. They don’t budge. But the brainstorm! Yeah, what did you come up with over the last hour besides thinking of me?White Lotus. What, you mean, jeeze, I told you, that place doesn’t actually exist!No, we’re going to make it real, a reverse murder mystery dinner theater all inclusive resort for the ultra rich.Oh, and what’s the payoff? I mean, I don’t get how that’s good for your career.Hrmm.Bobby scratches his beard. We’ll steal their wallets or something.Hey, what about plan Zero Six XG?Yeah, what about that thing he said?Bobby blinks slowly. What is plan Zero Six XG?Bouncy glows as she inquires of some nefarious scheme cooked up by one of the godfathers of the Brotherhood of Bastards. So, I got a bunch of experimental mutagens that I need to run human tests on…Woah, woah, you mean White Lotus but the twist is it’s the Island of Doctor Moreaux?Bouncy leans in and grips Bobby’s shoulder. That’s fucking hot.And now a break from our sponsors! ~~~~~ Hi, I’m MC Hammer, and I’m still alive and active!MC Hammer, the master of Hammertime and onetime influence for a children’s cartoon show, is in view in all his sixty year old glory. Yeah, I’m not a senior citizen yet, but, hey, some of us have our struggles day in, day out. That’s why I use Bastardcreme.A diagram showing the human body is in plain view, bright blue in hue, and much to everyone’s dismay, there’s a flaring red spot right in the midsection. Could be back pain, could be stomach pain, you’re not sure, but you’ve seen an owie on a body in a commercial before by now, if you haven’t your parents would be ashamed you’re even looking at this. When it gets too uncomfortable, Bastardcreme hits and soothes.Without any inkling of whether the product is drank or rubbed onto your body, the word Bastardcreme appears over the flaring red blot which diminishes instantly, leaving just a bright blue healthy human figure in a medical commercial. Bastardcreme. It works!~~~~~ St. Martin, the Virgin Islands. The tropical Caribbean crosswinds blow and give a warm breeze to the island as we see a fabulous resort on the beachhead. Bourbon Cove, in all its glory. On the beach we see Bobby in a loose linen button down and slacks. Beside him is Bouncy Brickhouse in a fabulous dress. Cyberjaw and Diamondback flank them. Alright, everybody, the guests are arriving.This is going to be so much fun!I guess, if you don’t have to do any of the work.Exactly.A boat pulls into the cove, laden with guests. It approaches a dock and moors itself, because it’s a cool smart boat that does that because Bobby is a fucking savage like that. The first group, a young family of three, approaches Bobby, Bouncy, and the Bourbies (Bourbies being short for Bourbon People, you heard it here first). Ah, yes, the Smithington-Peep family! Welcome!The father goes to speak, but since coding more voices sounds like a massive pain in the ass, Bouncy graciously cuts him off. You three will be in the Alfalfa Bungalow.Cyberjaw and Diamondback murmur to one another as Bobby glances in their direction suspiciously. The Smithington-Peeps meander off, escorted by Axe Mannix to the Alfalfa Bungalow. What was that?Nothing, little side bet.Okay. What dose are they getting?Cyberjaw checks a tablet he is holding. Smithington-Peep party? Lizard. Lizard?That sounds generic, not like a gecko, or an iguana, maybe a gila monster?Nope, it just says ‘lizard’. Huh.The next party approaches, it too is a young family of three. Ah, the Flippylooploop family, welcome to Bourbon Cove! How was your trip.Second verse, being same as the first, means Bouncy cuts the people off before they can attempt an utterance. You three will be in the Spanky suite!Called it!Cyberjaw rolls his eyes and hands a five dollar bill to Diamondback. The Flippylooploop family are walked off by Axe Mannix, who stops every so often to play a sick riff on his axe guitar axe. What the shit? What, we had a side bet, we weren’t sure if you named all the rooms after the Little Rascals or a salad bar.It’s the Little Rascals.We know!Ahem, what mutation are they getting? Owl? Leopard? Cyberjaw consults the table. Says here the Flippylooploop family are going to get Lizard treatment.What? Yeah.The next party, none other than Jennifer Coolidge herself, arrives. Hi, welcome! We are so glad you were able to come and give our resort the legitimacy it needs!Before a word escapes Jennifer Coolidge’s lips, Bouncy interjects. You’ll be in the Buckwheat Suite.Coolidge looks rather baffled as she’s hustled away by Axe Mannix. Axe plays Stairway to Heaven like an asshole. Please tell me we’re making her a literal cougar.Nope. Lizard.I was afraid of that.Lastly, the final pair of guests arrive. They look suspiciously like Liam Cain and Equinsu Och, Bobby’s opponents, but definitely aren’t them. They’re almost like some kind of storytelling analogue contraption injected into a script, but, unlike most, we’re honest about it. Ah, yes, the Doppelganger brothers! Welcome!Just, don’t talk, go to your room, it’s the Stymie Lodge.Axe Mannix scoots them along, prodding them with the head of his axe guitar axe. Man, it was a good idea for you to rip off Club Dread!I’m not ripping off Club Dread, I’m capitalizing on the success of White Lotus, big difference.Speaking of differences, are they getting generic lizard mutagens as well?Yes, generic lizard mutagens.Awesome. I’m here for it. I wasn’t at first.So, those guys, they…Yeah, they looked like my opponents, casting did a fine job, yadda yadda. Casting? Wait, is this a show or a real tropical resort front for mad science?Well, yeah, I mean…That’s kinky. Thank you.Bobby smiles. He turns his attention to us, you, and the rest of the viewers at home. My actual opponents, though? Well, for starters, there’s Equinsu Och, and hot damn, son, you have the dumbest name I have ever heard. You can walk down to the ring, ready to fight as hard as you want, but there ain’t no way in hell you can defend your parents for being on whatever drugs they were on and then looked at you and thought “Equinsu”. It sincerely sounds like your mom was drinking bug spray and your father was smoking a homeless person’s ass hairs to get high. What the fuck were they thinking? Fuck, what the fuck were they doing even fucking to begin with? Now we get a waste of oxygen, food, and time in you coming down ringside just waiting to get clobbered, because hey, you’re not coming along for the ride to get a Key 2 Success, you’re showing up at Mayhem to get dumped on your skull. Nah, fuck out of here with your stupid name, I’ma call you what you should be called; Scrotumface. Scrotumface, you’re coming down to the ring to get pinned, that is, unless, our other opponent winds up doing the fucking honors.Bouncy looks clueless. Hold on, what the fuck are you even talking about?Oh, I’m a wrestler, I have a match coming up.Okay, and you’re trash talking your opponents?Yes. But, um, why do you wrestle if you’re in the international supervillain community? I can’t believe the benefits are better.Oh, hah.Bobby scratches the back of his head, rolling his eyes, then looking at Bouncy. The supervillain gig is a hobby, cutie, wrestling pays the bills.That’s insane! So when you said you got turned into a centaur… That was all related to wrestling, not a supervillain plot.That’s literally insane! You’re insane! You like it.Bouncy cocks her head and smirks. She nods. Bobby smiles. So, Liam, you wrestle about as hard as a foreskin post circumcision. Maybe, kid, maybe one day you’ll show us all the way to get things done in this industry, how to be a success on your own terms, how to set trends. Well, probably not, you’re kinda run of the mill, ain’t ya? Let’s see, you don’t really do anything to set yourself apart from the rest of the pack, generally milling about like mutton, pure sheeple. You don’t try to do anything special in the ring, your basic ass Nineteen Ninety-Two offense so scouted you’d think it was a pack of little girls on the corner slinging Thin Mints. Let me guess, you come to compete, to honor a sport, I get that, like, fuck that though, it’s what I’ve done a helluva lot longer than you have, I promise and guarantee. What I do is pure and absolute annihilation and devastation for the sake of the fanbases recreation, I accomplish this without a single deviation, come see me Monday, in Dublin, and I will finalize your condemnation. Let me break it down what you’ll experience so it’s clear, you’ll feel your heart in your throats when you start to hear those people cheer and you sense that it’s near; your doom at the hands of the one you best fucking fear, and you both better damn well hope you escape our match with some shred of your career. A one man apocalypse will be coming to call, liberation, entertainment, and the end I will bring to all, as foretold from on high, down below, and from your momma down the hall, don’t go into a match when you know it’s going to be a brawl. The Emerald Isle is calling for the beatings that I bring, lining up around the block to get a ticket to see that Bobby Bourbon thing, Liam and Scrotumface facing utter slaughter in the ring, while I leave looking so fresh they gotta call me Irish Spring! Bars.Bars.That was amazing!Bobby makes a face like he won the third grade science fair, grinning at the approval of Miss Brickhouse while looking back at her. Let’s go watch rich people and hired actors get turned into lizards! Yeah!Whoo!
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Post by Liam Cain on Jan 27, 2023 0:09:15 GMT
“There's nothing worse than having a taste for bourbon and getting served gin instead.”
On the polished oak bar top sits a stout glass. It's obviously not bourbon, it's gin. Not just gin, but a gin sin, gin on the rocks. But as the saying goes 'any port in a storm' so Liam Cain downs it all the same. “If there's one thing in life I can stand, it's people who can't do their fucking JOB.”
“If there's two things in life I can't stand it's people who can't do their jobs, and people who can't handle reality.”
He raises his hand in that familiar 'come down here' motion, but the bartender, unfamiliar with George Thorogood, just pours him another gin on the rocks. Still, a drink is a drink. “Now how did I wind up in this situation? You'd think a guy named after the nectar of the gods might have a better head on his shoulders, but instead of the kind of guy you could have a good fight and a strong drink with after, I've got the Will Ferrell looking motherfucker running around like he's staring in his own Austin Powers movie, and appropriately the only thing this guy's got going for him is the film and television show parodies he calls promos. This silly ass sad sack gets a snicker from me for popping on Netflix to see what's trending number one long enough to riff on that and call that a promo.”
“I see all the years you've put into this great sport have not been wasted, Robert.”
“Meanwhile all the time and effort he's put into banging Stiffler's mom could have been spent on learning anything at all about the guy that's going to kick his ass come Monday night, but why bother when you need to put together some forgettable little skit to make yourself seem relevant to the twitter crowd who's opinion of what's cool you value more than winning.”
“But that's ok Bobby because all you're doing here seems to be running together into one big goofy mass of whatever it is you're doing. I'll admit at first it was funny, but now I just do the same thing that everyone else does. We all get reminded of that thing you're ripping off and go watch it rather than waste the time watching your chubby ass never find a point.”
“I guess the point is that you think you've got a fighting chance on Monday, but for a guy who doesn't seem to give a shit about anything but making yourself giggle and wet you pants over a granny that looks like she's made of melted wax than really who gives a fuck. If no one thinks you give a fuck then why are they going to give a fuck.”
He tosses the ice out of his glass. “See Bobby Bourbon, you're a guy that says he's been around this business for years now, then why haven't I or anyone else ever heard of you before you got to IIW? Oh right, because everywhere you go you never really leave an impression. You do the same thing and make a great first impression, but there's nothing beyond that to keep anyone's attention. No one ever interrupts your land of make-believe Bobby, so just like the streaming services do to the shows you're pulling from, it's cancelled after one season from Bobby Bourbon, time to move on. You're a new school spin on an old relic. This whole routine you got would have killed in the territory days.”
The bartender finally gets his 'I don't give a shit about this job' ass down to pour another gin for Liam Cain who makes a face before he carries on. “Now Bobby, this is for your benefit, since you only care about yourself and your cosplay henchmen I'm telling you now you can stop watching because what I say from here on out is also going to have to do with our other opponent and the rest of IIW as a whole.”
He downs the drink again. “I'm getting personally a bit annoyed now. Seeing the red carpet rolled out for a thief and a quitter tends to make my blood boil. Getting stacked in some multi man ladder match for a scratch at a title shot when you got a guy who's never beaten anyone for anything claiming to be a champion and running around with the belt I never got beat for acting like he's on some great streak when he just has some general manager doing everything for him gets my blood boiling.”
“You know what happens when you get a North Carolina cowboy's blood boiling? People get hurt. I'm gonna start with Bobby Bourbon and this Ocho guy because nobody cares or knows they exist anyway. Now technically I started with that little Bird. I hit that guy so hard he looks like a completely different guy now. Maybe I'll hit Bourbon so hard he'll look like John C Reilly... Maybe that's his partner. Doesn't matter.” “As for... Well honestly I don't even know how to say the masked guy's name, so I'm not gonna say it. This Washington DC fucker wears a mask like he's part of some grand Mexican tradition and he probably never even been to Mexico. What's with the name? It Mexican? Japanese? Sounds like you made up some bullshit because you know sweet fuck all about Japan or Mexico and made up something you think sounds like one, the other, or both and you think everyone else is as stupid as you so you think know one's gonna know.”
“Everyone knows. I don't know much about Mexico besides masked wrestling and good beers, and I know Japan made the mistake of crossing America once and they got some fucked up cartoons. But I also know this, for anyone in wrestling who wears a mask it's a big taboo and life time embarrassment to get your mask taken off, so you gotta ask yourself if you take a look at what I've been doing recently if it's really safe to step in that ring with me on Monday if you have a chance to leave with that mask in tact.” “I also know that this whole match is one big scam. Put some guys from the Keys 2 Success match against each other and get us to beat the piss out of each other and start some personal beef between each other so we focus more on each other than the match in a few weeks. Pretty much what I expect from who it's coming from, and why?”
“Because we all know that this is a big set up for Justin York. This ain't gonna play out like last time. I wasn't just stabbed in the back and injured and everyone knows who you and all your people are. York ain't the hot young new thing, that shines worn off, and this all being a set up for Keys 2 Success stinks of Shaun Hart hedging his bets cause even he knows the Ice Princess wont seal the deal when the time comes.”
“What is important is that Monday night, despite best efforts, Bobby Bourbon disappoints us all as is the story of his career. He doesn't become the big thorn in my side or set himself up as the next big thing. Horse number Eight or whatever his name is supposed to be isn't going to shock the world or upset anyone. What's going to happen is Bobby Bourbon is going to have to fight off disappointing everyone like he disappoints the women in his promos long enough to make it to Keys 2 Success and not lose long enough that the other guy loses his mask, his dignity, and the match first.”
“I'm not in a wrestling match come Monday, I could give a shit about the sanctity of the sport or whatever cool boy shit Bobby was on about, and I couldn't give less of a shit about anything beyond the payback a growing list of people have coming to them. Last Mayhem that list got longer and this Mayhem the obstacles got greater, but that's all they are. People still in my way. I'm drunk, I'm coming, and I'm bringing ass kicking's for all, and for me a good night!”
Fade out, drunkards. See ya, Cowboys.
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Post by Liam Cain on Jan 28, 2023 17:11:43 GMT
Part 1: A Homeless Man Threatened Me On Twitter Liam: “So I came in from feeding the animals the other morning and got this message pointing to this video on the Twitter.”
He looks over at the finely dressed woman sitting to his right at the table. Finely dressed by North Carolina country standards that is. Ashley: “Babe, you don't even have Twitter.”
Liam: “Yeah but you can still look at buffoons makin' idiots of themselves on there even if you don't use it. Point is, baby girl, I got sent this video from Twitter so I take a look and it's some old man going off on me.”
Ashley: “Why would an old man go off on you on Twitter? How would an old man even know how to use Twitter?”
Liam: “Well that's the damnedest thing about it, that old man turns out was Bobby Bourbon. Fella looked like he'd been up all night tryin' to find me on Twitter just so he could do his little bit and respond like the cool guy that he thinks he is.”
Ashley: “You're not mad?”
Liam: “Why should I be mad? I was mad before. I was mad when he didn't bother doing the slightest bit of looking into his opponents. I was mad when he went of rhyming like a Wish dot com Doctor Seuss. I was mad when he made assumptions about me and didn't bother to check his history. I was made when he was sitting around with his cosplay Guild of Calamitous Intent and dared called me sheeple... But now, now that he's let me know he fears me, now that he showed that fear to the world in his old-ass face and helped me move right into that frontal lobe rent free. Bobby Bourbon fears me and now everyone knows it.”
Ashley: “So just nothing at all now? Not mad, no fear?”
Liam: “Most of the time baby, I've had to take the rope myself and hang my opponents. I should thank Bobby Bourbon for providing his own and doing the deed for me.”
Ashley: “You're not worried about him coming after you Comanche style?”
Liam: “Worried about what? That's a pretty serious threat... Two HUNDRED years ago! Ol' Bob doesn't even know how much he has in common with the Comanche.”
Ashley: “It can't really be all that much, that old man is white as FUCK.”
Liam: “Not ancestrally. Just as a concept. Once upon a time the Comanche were the scourge of the plains. Vile and vicious and a tribe to be feared, but eventually, they were their own undoing. They hunted their own livelihood to near extinction and ended up doing the same to themselves. For all their vile and dastardly deeds all we had to do to best them was put fire power in their hands. Now look at them. Tell Bobby Bourbon to look at them. No more Comanches Bobby, only cowboys.” “What was once a great and fearsome tribe of warriors is now just pictures and stories in history books, meanwhile there are farms and ranches just like this and cowboys as far as the eye can see. So if that's what Bobby Bourbon plans to do, come at me Comanche style, then let him and he'll hunt himself to extinction.”
“See Bobby Bourbon, since I know you're listening, the Comanches are a thing of the past. Just like you. An old relic who's time is long past. You want to come at me like a fearsome brave over the plains, that's fine. I long ago learned how to protect myself from someone like you.”
“When a wild Comanche comes riding out over the plain screaming bloody death on you from horseback there's only one thing a man can do to protect what's his. You shoot that fucking horse. I know it's mean and inhumane, but it's a war you started Bobby. Then when that Comanches screams turn from the evil warrior screaming for your death the the cries of a little boy screaming for his mommy, then you stroll over there and you put a round of double aught in his face. No more Comanche.”
“You should have stuck with movie parodies, Bobby. But you're right, there aren't any stupid questions, just the stupid people that try to answer them. Next time maybe spend less time trying to look me up on social media and more time coming up with an answer that doesn't make you look afraid and stupid. You're a tired old man fighting against a future you know you're not going to be a part of. You didn't come back for the World Title Bobby, you came back so someone could put you in the ground. You found him.”
Part 2: In the words of Hank Williams Jr, “A Country boy Can Survive”
Sunset sweeps over the expanse of Liam Cain's North Carolina farm. It's a sprawling canvas of 181 acres of American pastoral. Not that you would appreciate that you uncultured swine, your eyes are affixed firmly to the buttocks of Ashley Vaughan and how the English beauty seems somehow custom made for the shorts known lovingly as ' Daisy Dukes'. Ashley: “Almost done? We've got an early flight tomorrow.”
Liam: “Equinsu Ocha.”
Ashley: “What?”
Liam: “Equinsu Ocha, that's the other guy in the match on Monday. He's so fucking hard to remember even the booking sheets and the program got his name wrong. Equinsu Ocha. They all called him Och.”
Ashley: “Och? Ocha? What's the difference?”
Liam takes a moment to look off to the horizon. Maybe he's pondering the difference of an 'A' at the end of a name and what magnitude it bares on the one whom it names. Perhaps he's admiring the splendor of the multicolored cascade of the Carolina sunset. Maybe he's not thinking about anything at all. Liam: “Fucked if I know. Everyone just calls him Och because it's the easiest bit to remember. No one's seen him without his mask and from what I can tell he acts like this makes him some sort of mysterious enigma, but closest we can tell he's just fuck-ugly.”
Ashley: “The other guy is fuck-ugly.”
Liam: “He should consider wearing the mask, then no one would know how old he is either. This isn't about him though. It's about old Ocha. He takes the mystery thing a bit far. He's so mysterious he doesn't even promo for the match. Maybe he wont even show up.”
Ashley pulls out her phone from... Well it probably was in her bra, she didn't just magic it out of her cleavage no matter how magical her boobs look. While Liam is speaking she's looking at it while her fingers move on it's face, but when he's done she has an answer. Ashley: “White Devil.”
Liam: “The fuck you say?”
Ashley: “If I spelled it right, that's what it means.”
Liam: “The fuck is with my opponents this go? Shaun Hart what the fuck are you throwing me into? From the one guy doing bad amateur theatre to his complete mental break and attempt at cultural appropriation on Twitter to the other guy... Well his name is pretty much a hate crime, right?”
Ashley: “I think if we weren't white it would be a hate crime... Like if BB really was Comanche then it's TOTALLY a hate crime... But, we're all white so I think it's just a really stupid name.”
Liam: “Yeah I could see that. White Devil. In... What language is it in?”
Ashley: “I think it's from Ace Ventura...”
Liam: “The movies?”
Ashley: “Yeah.”
Liam: “Son of A...”
See you, Cowboys!
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