Post by Johnny Reb on Jan 28, 2012 11:03:05 GMT -5
Saturday morning, and one of many Starbucks locations in Reading, PA is jumping. A steady drone of conversation drowns out the obscure, contemporary tunes filtering through the speakers; punctuated at regular intervals by the noisy hiss of an industrial cappuccino machine, or the shout of a barista calling out an order. Hank Brown is seated in the midst of all this activity, drumming his fingers on the table in front of him with mounting impatience. He checks the time on a slightly oversized wristwatch.
Hank: Five more minutes, then we’re out of here.
Seconds tick by slowly. Hank takes a sip from a steaming mug, eyes roving over the crowd. One by one, customers take their beverages and wander back out to get on with their weekend activities, until the mob is finally thinned out enough to pick out individual faces. So busy watching the bustle is Hank that he doesn’t notice Johnny slip into the seat across from him.
Reb: Hiya, Hank!
Brown gives a start, staring at Johnny in surprise.
Hank: Jesus, Johnny! You startled me!
Johnny gives him a big, self-satisfied grin.
Hank: Anyway, glad you’re here. I’m kinda on a tight schedule today.
The Inveterate Confederate looks Hank over in mock-reproval.
Reb: Now, now, Hank… Ya know better’n to rush one of WCF’s biggest superstars. What would Lerch say? Well…he probably wouldn’t say nothin’. There’d just be some sorta punishment involvin’ a ball gag and a ridin’ crop… But, um, anyway. Where were we?
Brown just shakes his head.
Hank: I get the impression you’re not taking this very seriously. You do realize what’s at stake this week?
Reb: Yeah, I know. Tag titles. I done already said I wasn’t all that interested, an’ I meant it. Not that I’m gonna refuse ‘em when me an’ Doc win tomorrow night.
Hank: You seem pretty confident about that. Aren’t you concerned that Doc might do something that costs you both the match…again?
Johnny appears to mull this over for a moment.
Reb: To tell ya the truth, Hank… not really. Ok, so I’ve heard the all speculation in the back, regardin’ the likelihood of Mr. Henry simply walkin’ out, like he did last week. Then ya gotta consider – who carried the New Confederacy through three separate title reigns?
Johnny waits, while Hank comes to the conclusion that this is not a rhetorical question.
Hank: Well, you did. At least, that’s what everybody says…
Reb: An’ its true. I didn’t wanna see it that way, back then. I mean, Doc’s got talent to spare; he’s just lazy. It always came down to me. Hell, he don’t even have to show up. It’d make me just as happy.
Hank: You’d take on Nightrider and Jeff Purse by yourself?
The incredulous look on the WCF interviewer’s face isn’t lost on Johnny.
Reb: No question ‘bout it, Hank. These guys have seriously underestimated me. I guess I can forgive that, bein’ as they’re relatively new ‘round here. Clearly, they ain’t bothered doin’ no research – which is a problem I see in a lotta these newer fellas; they simply assume that if’n y’ain’t currently wearin’ a belt, y’ain’t worth knowin’ about. Couple of one-trick ponies. All either of ‘em seems capable of doin’ is trottin’ out every tired, clichéd Southern stereotype they can think of – which is, sadly, about three of ‘em. Over an’ over again.
The Inveterate Confederate pauses to yawn in an exaggerated way.
Reb: Blah, blah, redneck. Blah, blah, inbred. Blah, blah, blah. Boring! Ain’t nothin’ me an’ my adorin’ fans ain’t heard a thousand times before. Look, the long an’ short of it is… I beat Purse last week. I can do it again this week. An’ as to his partner, Nightrider – that is one lame moniker, if’n y’ask me – well, anyway… Sure, he’s a big sonofabitch; but then again, I’ve stood toe to toe with bigger, meaner, crazier mothers… I got the advantage, see? For one thing, he clearly reckons I ain’t got nothin’ to offer ‘cause I’m from the South. There’s a name for that kinda logical fallacy, but I can’t think of it offhand.
Johnny shrugs.
Reb: I mean, anyone who knows anythin’ about Southern boys – redneck or otherwise – it’s that we all got a reputation for pure doggedness an’ tenacity in a fight. An’ for another thing… just ‘cause I ain’t the biggest guy in the match don’t mean jack. What I lack in brute strength, I make up for with quickness an’ intellect. Y’know…tactics. Strategy.
Hank: Johnny, for someone who claims not to be interested in the tag titles, you seem intent on winning this match. Won’t that ultimately ruin your goal of finding a way out of your contract with Doc Henry?
Reb: Well, Hank, it’s like this: I may despise my ersatz partner right this moment, but in the ring, none of that matters. Much as I might want my freedom to pursue my career without Doc’s interference, I will be damned if’n I’m gonna let a couple of swaggerin’, arrogant upstarts – with no respect for this company as a whole, an’ not a single legitimate accomplishment to their names – put me down for the one-two-three. If’n I gotta be a champion with Mr. Henry again, for however long it takes…well, we’ll burn that bridge when we cross it.
Bottom line is: them boys don’t deserve them titles. They didn’t beat nobody challengin’ for ‘em. Hell, the performance musta been lackluster, ‘cause I don’t even really remember it.
Hank: So, let me get this straight. You don’t mind working with the same man who tried to put you on the shelf – permanently – just a few months ago? The same man who went behind your back to lock you into a contract, simply to revive the New Confederacy? I mean, this is the guy who kidnapped your former manager and strapped a bomb to his chest, for God’s sake!
The Inveterate Confederate nods sagely, not at all perturbed at the mention of Doc Henry’s transgressions.
Reb: That’s right, Hank. Don’t think I’ve forgotten all that. But one thing at a time. It’s more important to me that my opponents this week get their asses handed to ‘em, tag titles or no tag titles. I’ll deal with Doc Henry in due time. For now, though, I got my reputation to consider. Can you imagine what a travesty it’d be if them two fools defeated Yours Truly in honorable combat? Not that I imagine either of ‘em actually knows what “honorable” means… Though I digress. Point is, with or without Doc’s dubious assistance, I intend to win this match.
The interviewer nods, and then turns to the camera.
Hank: Well, there you have it, WCF fans. Strong words from our very own Inveterate Confederate, Johnny Reb! Don’t forget to call your local cable provider to order the Payback pay-per-view, live this Sunday night! Anything else you want to add, Johnny?
Johnny gives the camera the biggest, cheesiest grin he can muster.
Reb: Yep. As always… Deo vindice!
Hank: Five more minutes, then we’re out of here.
Seconds tick by slowly. Hank takes a sip from a steaming mug, eyes roving over the crowd. One by one, customers take their beverages and wander back out to get on with their weekend activities, until the mob is finally thinned out enough to pick out individual faces. So busy watching the bustle is Hank that he doesn’t notice Johnny slip into the seat across from him.
Reb: Hiya, Hank!
Brown gives a start, staring at Johnny in surprise.
Hank: Jesus, Johnny! You startled me!
Johnny gives him a big, self-satisfied grin.
Hank: Anyway, glad you’re here. I’m kinda on a tight schedule today.
The Inveterate Confederate looks Hank over in mock-reproval.
Reb: Now, now, Hank… Ya know better’n to rush one of WCF’s biggest superstars. What would Lerch say? Well…he probably wouldn’t say nothin’. There’d just be some sorta punishment involvin’ a ball gag and a ridin’ crop… But, um, anyway. Where were we?
Brown just shakes his head.
Hank: I get the impression you’re not taking this very seriously. You do realize what’s at stake this week?
Reb: Yeah, I know. Tag titles. I done already said I wasn’t all that interested, an’ I meant it. Not that I’m gonna refuse ‘em when me an’ Doc win tomorrow night.
Hank: You seem pretty confident about that. Aren’t you concerned that Doc might do something that costs you both the match…again?
Johnny appears to mull this over for a moment.
Reb: To tell ya the truth, Hank… not really. Ok, so I’ve heard the all speculation in the back, regardin’ the likelihood of Mr. Henry simply walkin’ out, like he did last week. Then ya gotta consider – who carried the New Confederacy through three separate title reigns?
Johnny waits, while Hank comes to the conclusion that this is not a rhetorical question.
Hank: Well, you did. At least, that’s what everybody says…
Reb: An’ its true. I didn’t wanna see it that way, back then. I mean, Doc’s got talent to spare; he’s just lazy. It always came down to me. Hell, he don’t even have to show up. It’d make me just as happy.
Hank: You’d take on Nightrider and Jeff Purse by yourself?
The incredulous look on the WCF interviewer’s face isn’t lost on Johnny.
Reb: No question ‘bout it, Hank. These guys have seriously underestimated me. I guess I can forgive that, bein’ as they’re relatively new ‘round here. Clearly, they ain’t bothered doin’ no research – which is a problem I see in a lotta these newer fellas; they simply assume that if’n y’ain’t currently wearin’ a belt, y’ain’t worth knowin’ about. Couple of one-trick ponies. All either of ‘em seems capable of doin’ is trottin’ out every tired, clichéd Southern stereotype they can think of – which is, sadly, about three of ‘em. Over an’ over again.
The Inveterate Confederate pauses to yawn in an exaggerated way.
Reb: Blah, blah, redneck. Blah, blah, inbred. Blah, blah, blah. Boring! Ain’t nothin’ me an’ my adorin’ fans ain’t heard a thousand times before. Look, the long an’ short of it is… I beat Purse last week. I can do it again this week. An’ as to his partner, Nightrider – that is one lame moniker, if’n y’ask me – well, anyway… Sure, he’s a big sonofabitch; but then again, I’ve stood toe to toe with bigger, meaner, crazier mothers… I got the advantage, see? For one thing, he clearly reckons I ain’t got nothin’ to offer ‘cause I’m from the South. There’s a name for that kinda logical fallacy, but I can’t think of it offhand.
Johnny shrugs.
Reb: I mean, anyone who knows anythin’ about Southern boys – redneck or otherwise – it’s that we all got a reputation for pure doggedness an’ tenacity in a fight. An’ for another thing… just ‘cause I ain’t the biggest guy in the match don’t mean jack. What I lack in brute strength, I make up for with quickness an’ intellect. Y’know…tactics. Strategy.
Hank: Johnny, for someone who claims not to be interested in the tag titles, you seem intent on winning this match. Won’t that ultimately ruin your goal of finding a way out of your contract with Doc Henry?
Reb: Well, Hank, it’s like this: I may despise my ersatz partner right this moment, but in the ring, none of that matters. Much as I might want my freedom to pursue my career without Doc’s interference, I will be damned if’n I’m gonna let a couple of swaggerin’, arrogant upstarts – with no respect for this company as a whole, an’ not a single legitimate accomplishment to their names – put me down for the one-two-three. If’n I gotta be a champion with Mr. Henry again, for however long it takes…well, we’ll burn that bridge when we cross it.
Bottom line is: them boys don’t deserve them titles. They didn’t beat nobody challengin’ for ‘em. Hell, the performance musta been lackluster, ‘cause I don’t even really remember it.
Hank: So, let me get this straight. You don’t mind working with the same man who tried to put you on the shelf – permanently – just a few months ago? The same man who went behind your back to lock you into a contract, simply to revive the New Confederacy? I mean, this is the guy who kidnapped your former manager and strapped a bomb to his chest, for God’s sake!
The Inveterate Confederate nods sagely, not at all perturbed at the mention of Doc Henry’s transgressions.
Reb: That’s right, Hank. Don’t think I’ve forgotten all that. But one thing at a time. It’s more important to me that my opponents this week get their asses handed to ‘em, tag titles or no tag titles. I’ll deal with Doc Henry in due time. For now, though, I got my reputation to consider. Can you imagine what a travesty it’d be if them two fools defeated Yours Truly in honorable combat? Not that I imagine either of ‘em actually knows what “honorable” means… Though I digress. Point is, with or without Doc’s dubious assistance, I intend to win this match.
The interviewer nods, and then turns to the camera.
Hank: Well, there you have it, WCF fans. Strong words from our very own Inveterate Confederate, Johnny Reb! Don’t forget to call your local cable provider to order the Payback pay-per-view, live this Sunday night! Anything else you want to add, Johnny?
Johnny gives the camera the biggest, cheesiest grin he can muster.
Reb: Yep. As always… Deo vindice!
