Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2014 23:45:08 GMT -5
A cool, winter breeze blows across Waylon's land, the trees bowing ever so slightly to its might. On the concrete block that will one day serve as the foundation for a house, Waylon Cash hold onto a wooden crossbeam. He pulls himself up, and lowers down slowly, the muscles beneath his sweat drenched skin flexing with his movements. He lets out low grunts, as he slowly becomes more exhausted. Eventually his muscles protest, and he lowers himself to the ground. He grabs his white tank top off of the hammock next to him, and uses it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He then turns around and stares directly into the camera. He stays silent for a while, not blinking.
Waylon:I did it... I ended the career of a WCF legend. I sent Donald Deruty home, where he'll stay. He's gonna sit his ass on the couch every Sunday, and he's gonna watch S-PAC dominate week in and week out like we been doin' all along. And don't tell me he ain't watchin', everyone knows he is. He's gonna sit there and see the group he couldn't stop, runnin' all over the show he can't be on anymore. It's gonna kill him, and it's gonna give me a reason to get up every Sunday mornin'. Some people got church. I got the chance to rub D-day's failures in his face every week for the rest of my career. That's somethin' money just can't buy, my friends.
Waylon smiles a wide, toothy grin, as he pulls a cigarette from behind his ear. He slips it between his lips, but just lets it dangle there, unlit.
Waylon:If that wasn't proof of the fact that S-PAC's indestructible, I don't know what is. Ain't nobody that can stand up to us, and everyone in the back knows it. Of course it ain't all about S-PAC. I proved somethin' about Waylon Cash that night. I proved what I knew the whole time. Waylon Cash is the greatest wrestler in the world today. Ain't a damnded soul in that locker room that can prove any different. Of course, I don't get to show off on my own this week. For some reason, I gotta team with Jonny Fly and Oblivion. I ain't complainin'. Jonny and Bliv are two of the best team mates you could ask for. Now, I was never a Jonny Fly fan, but what he did to Steve Orbit... that put a smile on my face. I'm on the bandwagon now baby. I got the Jonny Fly t-shirt, the Jonny Fly hat, the Jonny Fly action figure. I even got the Jonny Fly ice cream bars sittin' in my freezer! Jonny Fly, you're my hero, and it's gonna be an honor to work with you. It's gonna be even better knowin' I'm standin' next to you as we beat the ever lovin' dog shit outta the woulda been, coulda been champion of the world, Steve Orbit.
Waylon finally pulls a lighter form the pocket of his jeans, and sets the end of the cigarette on fire. He inhales deeply, and blows the smoke up in the air. He watches the gray cloud dissipate, before turning his attention back to the camera.
Waylon:Oblivion... now that's another story. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's on my side, but that's like havin' a grizzly bear on your side. You're not sure when it's gonna turn, but you know it's gonna. Oblivion is the most unpredictable mother fucker I ever met, so it's a bit scary bein' anywhere near him. I don't even like bein' in the locker room at the same time as him. On a related note, I don't like playin' around with fire or snakes either. Of course, any weapon I can use against Orbit and the b-squad rejects that make up his team is a good weapon.
Waylon takes another puff, and leans against one of the wooden posts that will one day hold up his home.
Waylon:Everyone knows I'm happy to get my hands on Steve Orbit, and everyone knows why. I ain't gonna rehash it. Let's talk about the rest of his team, and let's start with Chelsea Black Armstrong. Now, I don't know what this chick did to get herself thrown into this match, but it ain't gonna be good for her. She's green as grass, and she's gettin' thrown right into the shark tank here. It's a big jump up from walkin' all over the jobbers kid. For your first main event match, I only got one piece of advice. Stay the fuck out of the way. You get mixed up with any one of my team mates, and it's gonna end badly for you. You're in way over your head sweetheart. In fact, if I were you, I might not show up. This ain't little league anymore girl. We're huntin' with the big dogs now, and if you get in the way, I got a feelin' your ass is gonna get tore up somethin' fierce. You don't gotta listen, of course. There's a lotta folk that don't listen when ol' Waylon goes on like he does. You're gonna wanna take my advice though.
Waylon slides down to a sitting position, as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. He exhales through his nose, letting all of the smoke leave his lungs before speaking.
Waylon:Then there's Logan. This worthless moron ain't got the brains god gave a gopher. He's too busy tryin' to get attention to pay be worth a damn between the ropes. I swear to god, if I was runnin' this place, he'd be deemed mentally unfit to fight. I mean, it ain't about my safety, it's about his. He's off lolligaggin' in jackass land, not payin' attention, tryin' to get people to notice him, and the BAM! Along comes and eighteen wheeler named Waylon Cash, and guess what it's carryin'. That's right, a metric shit ton of pain. I'm gonna run his ass right over, and I ain't gonna feel bad about it. Everyone knows he ain't fit to be in the ring, and I'm finally gonna do somethin' about it.
Waylon finishes his cigarette, and tosses it into the grass. He watches smoke curl upward from the end that's burning, almost as if entranced. He speaks without moving his eyes.
Waylon:D-day's not gonna be the last one. I'm on my own crusade now. I'm takin' people out. There's a lot of waste on the roster. There's a lotta you tools that don't belong here, and you know it. I'm comin' for you, and it starts with Logan this week. He's got no business bein' in this company, and I'm gonna finish his little bullshit act for good. As for Orbit. It's gonna be just another day. We both walk in, I walk out a winner. I've had Orbit's number since day one, and Sunday ain't gonna be no different. That's just how it goes I guess. Every member of my team is better than every member of your team. Let it be a lesson I guess. It's all about the company you keep.
Waylon chuckles to himself, and watches a cloud as it slowly drags its way across the sky. It reminds him of a vague memory from his childhood. He can't see it though. It is a faint wisp from the back of his mind, and then it is gone. He turns back to the camera. His smile is gone now.
Waylon:It all ends this Sunday. All you talentless morons, all you paycheck collectors, all you has been leeches just hangin' on... Waylon Cash has got you in his cross hairs. There ain't no more room for you in my sport. Get out of the way, or it's gonna be a painful end for you.
Waylon Cash makes his way around one of the beams, and the camera follows him. On the backside of the plank, he has carved a list of names. The first one, being Donald Deruty, is crossed off. Logan, Steve Orbit, Lilith, Tek, and Odin Balfore all appear on the list, along with spaces for more names.
Waylon:The countdown starts with Logan. This Sunday, my crusade begins, and it's gonna be bloody as hell. I'm gonna leave a path of destruction like this place ain't never seen, and I'm gonna do it with a smile on my face. It's high time we culled the WCF herd, and Waylon Cash is just the man for the job. There's just too many of you around. You're chokin' off the rest of us. Just remember, as I take you all down like I did D-Day, I'm doin' it for the good of the herd.
The camera fades out, and Scott Savage lowers it to his side. He gives Waylon a look of pride, as the wrestler flops into his hammock.
Scott:I think you're finally getting it.
Waylon:I had it the whole time hoss. I just had to find my center.
Scott walks over to the hammock, and leans against one of the posts that holds it up.
Scott:So... how have you been doing?
Waylon:You mean without the coke? First week was hell. Havin' the week off of work helped. I think I'm through the thick of it now. I think we're gonna be ok, Beast.
Scott:Good... I was really worried about you.
Waylon:You mean you were worried your golden gooses was gonna crap out on ya? Don't worry. They ain't made nothin' yet that can kill a Cash man... 'cept maybe red meat.
Scott:No Waylon. I was worried about you. You're my friend. When I saw you on the hospital bed... I locked up. I knew that if you had died, I would have spent the rest of my life blaming myself.
Waylon:It's alright brother. We're on the other side now. No more lies, no more scares, no more of that shit. I got one love now, and she's green, not white.
Scott:Also, you know, my sister.
The two men share a laugh, as a section of the concrete begins to rise. As The iron rod elevator reaches the surface, they see that Roxxanne Savage is inside. She steps out onto the foundation with a smile on her face.
Waylon:Hey baby. How we doin'?
Roxxy just smiles wider, as she slides into the hammock next to him.
Roxxy:I got some amazing news. You know how I've been sending reels of my film to different movie studios and directors?
Waylon:Yeah. I remember you usin' every cuss word in the book, and even makin' up a few while you were editing them.
Roxxy:Right, well I just got a letter back, and there's this documentary about the modern day street gangs, and how they've gotten more sophisticated. They want me to sign on as a cinematographer! This could be huge for me. The problem is that we're shooting in California for a month, and they need me to leave tomorrow.
Waylon:And why ain't you packin'?
Roxxy:Seriously?
Waylon:Hell yes! You gotta do this! Baby, this is huge for you. I can't wait to see it. Hell, maybe I'll be able to sit through a documentary for once.
Roxxy:Are you sure?
She looks to Waylon, and then up to her brother, who gives her a smile and a nod. She hugs Waylon tightly, before hopping up from the hammock.
Roxxy:Oh my god, I have to pack!
She rushes back to the elevator, and lowers herself into the basement. Scott gives Waylon a look of curiosity.
Waylon:What?
Scott:Are you going to be okay with her in California for a month.
Waylon:I'll be fine. She needs to do this. Besides, I could use a little time to myself anyway.
Scott:Who are you kidding, Tex? You're never complete without an audience.
The two men share another laugh, and then no more words. Scott merely walks over to his black SUV, and climbs into the driver's side, leaving Waylon to watch the sun set in the distance. He waits until the stars are clear in the black sky, before heading back down into the basement, to spend one last night with his fiance.
Waylon:I did it... I ended the career of a WCF legend. I sent Donald Deruty home, where he'll stay. He's gonna sit his ass on the couch every Sunday, and he's gonna watch S-PAC dominate week in and week out like we been doin' all along. And don't tell me he ain't watchin', everyone knows he is. He's gonna sit there and see the group he couldn't stop, runnin' all over the show he can't be on anymore. It's gonna kill him, and it's gonna give me a reason to get up every Sunday mornin'. Some people got church. I got the chance to rub D-day's failures in his face every week for the rest of my career. That's somethin' money just can't buy, my friends.
Waylon smiles a wide, toothy grin, as he pulls a cigarette from behind his ear. He slips it between his lips, but just lets it dangle there, unlit.
Waylon:If that wasn't proof of the fact that S-PAC's indestructible, I don't know what is. Ain't nobody that can stand up to us, and everyone in the back knows it. Of course it ain't all about S-PAC. I proved somethin' about Waylon Cash that night. I proved what I knew the whole time. Waylon Cash is the greatest wrestler in the world today. Ain't a damnded soul in that locker room that can prove any different. Of course, I don't get to show off on my own this week. For some reason, I gotta team with Jonny Fly and Oblivion. I ain't complainin'. Jonny and Bliv are two of the best team mates you could ask for. Now, I was never a Jonny Fly fan, but what he did to Steve Orbit... that put a smile on my face. I'm on the bandwagon now baby. I got the Jonny Fly t-shirt, the Jonny Fly hat, the Jonny Fly action figure. I even got the Jonny Fly ice cream bars sittin' in my freezer! Jonny Fly, you're my hero, and it's gonna be an honor to work with you. It's gonna be even better knowin' I'm standin' next to you as we beat the ever lovin' dog shit outta the woulda been, coulda been champion of the world, Steve Orbit.
Waylon finally pulls a lighter form the pocket of his jeans, and sets the end of the cigarette on fire. He inhales deeply, and blows the smoke up in the air. He watches the gray cloud dissipate, before turning his attention back to the camera.
Waylon:Oblivion... now that's another story. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's on my side, but that's like havin' a grizzly bear on your side. You're not sure when it's gonna turn, but you know it's gonna. Oblivion is the most unpredictable mother fucker I ever met, so it's a bit scary bein' anywhere near him. I don't even like bein' in the locker room at the same time as him. On a related note, I don't like playin' around with fire or snakes either. Of course, any weapon I can use against Orbit and the b-squad rejects that make up his team is a good weapon.
Waylon takes another puff, and leans against one of the wooden posts that will one day hold up his home.
Waylon:Everyone knows I'm happy to get my hands on Steve Orbit, and everyone knows why. I ain't gonna rehash it. Let's talk about the rest of his team, and let's start with Chelsea Black Armstrong. Now, I don't know what this chick did to get herself thrown into this match, but it ain't gonna be good for her. She's green as grass, and she's gettin' thrown right into the shark tank here. It's a big jump up from walkin' all over the jobbers kid. For your first main event match, I only got one piece of advice. Stay the fuck out of the way. You get mixed up with any one of my team mates, and it's gonna end badly for you. You're in way over your head sweetheart. In fact, if I were you, I might not show up. This ain't little league anymore girl. We're huntin' with the big dogs now, and if you get in the way, I got a feelin' your ass is gonna get tore up somethin' fierce. You don't gotta listen, of course. There's a lotta folk that don't listen when ol' Waylon goes on like he does. You're gonna wanna take my advice though.
Waylon slides down to a sitting position, as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. He exhales through his nose, letting all of the smoke leave his lungs before speaking.
Waylon:Then there's Logan. This worthless moron ain't got the brains god gave a gopher. He's too busy tryin' to get attention to pay be worth a damn between the ropes. I swear to god, if I was runnin' this place, he'd be deemed mentally unfit to fight. I mean, it ain't about my safety, it's about his. He's off lolligaggin' in jackass land, not payin' attention, tryin' to get people to notice him, and the BAM! Along comes and eighteen wheeler named Waylon Cash, and guess what it's carryin'. That's right, a metric shit ton of pain. I'm gonna run his ass right over, and I ain't gonna feel bad about it. Everyone knows he ain't fit to be in the ring, and I'm finally gonna do somethin' about it.
Waylon finishes his cigarette, and tosses it into the grass. He watches smoke curl upward from the end that's burning, almost as if entranced. He speaks without moving his eyes.
Waylon:D-day's not gonna be the last one. I'm on my own crusade now. I'm takin' people out. There's a lot of waste on the roster. There's a lotta you tools that don't belong here, and you know it. I'm comin' for you, and it starts with Logan this week. He's got no business bein' in this company, and I'm gonna finish his little bullshit act for good. As for Orbit. It's gonna be just another day. We both walk in, I walk out a winner. I've had Orbit's number since day one, and Sunday ain't gonna be no different. That's just how it goes I guess. Every member of my team is better than every member of your team. Let it be a lesson I guess. It's all about the company you keep.
Waylon chuckles to himself, and watches a cloud as it slowly drags its way across the sky. It reminds him of a vague memory from his childhood. He can't see it though. It is a faint wisp from the back of his mind, and then it is gone. He turns back to the camera. His smile is gone now.
Waylon:It all ends this Sunday. All you talentless morons, all you paycheck collectors, all you has been leeches just hangin' on... Waylon Cash has got you in his cross hairs. There ain't no more room for you in my sport. Get out of the way, or it's gonna be a painful end for you.
Waylon Cash makes his way around one of the beams, and the camera follows him. On the backside of the plank, he has carved a list of names. The first one, being Donald Deruty, is crossed off. Logan, Steve Orbit, Lilith, Tek, and Odin Balfore all appear on the list, along with spaces for more names.
Waylon:The countdown starts with Logan. This Sunday, my crusade begins, and it's gonna be bloody as hell. I'm gonna leave a path of destruction like this place ain't never seen, and I'm gonna do it with a smile on my face. It's high time we culled the WCF herd, and Waylon Cash is just the man for the job. There's just too many of you around. You're chokin' off the rest of us. Just remember, as I take you all down like I did D-Day, I'm doin' it for the good of the herd.
The camera fades out, and Scott Savage lowers it to his side. He gives Waylon a look of pride, as the wrestler flops into his hammock.
Scott:I think you're finally getting it.
Waylon:I had it the whole time hoss. I just had to find my center.
Scott walks over to the hammock, and leans against one of the posts that holds it up.
Scott:So... how have you been doing?
Waylon:You mean without the coke? First week was hell. Havin' the week off of work helped. I think I'm through the thick of it now. I think we're gonna be ok, Beast.
Scott:Good... I was really worried about you.
Waylon:You mean you were worried your golden gooses was gonna crap out on ya? Don't worry. They ain't made nothin' yet that can kill a Cash man... 'cept maybe red meat.
Scott:No Waylon. I was worried about you. You're my friend. When I saw you on the hospital bed... I locked up. I knew that if you had died, I would have spent the rest of my life blaming myself.
Waylon:It's alright brother. We're on the other side now. No more lies, no more scares, no more of that shit. I got one love now, and she's green, not white.
Scott:Also, you know, my sister.
The two men share a laugh, as a section of the concrete begins to rise. As The iron rod elevator reaches the surface, they see that Roxxanne Savage is inside. She steps out onto the foundation with a smile on her face.
Waylon:Hey baby. How we doin'?
Roxxy just smiles wider, as she slides into the hammock next to him.
Roxxy:I got some amazing news. You know how I've been sending reels of my film to different movie studios and directors?
Waylon:Yeah. I remember you usin' every cuss word in the book, and even makin' up a few while you were editing them.
Roxxy:Right, well I just got a letter back, and there's this documentary about the modern day street gangs, and how they've gotten more sophisticated. They want me to sign on as a cinematographer! This could be huge for me. The problem is that we're shooting in California for a month, and they need me to leave tomorrow.
Waylon:And why ain't you packin'?
Roxxy:Seriously?
Waylon:Hell yes! You gotta do this! Baby, this is huge for you. I can't wait to see it. Hell, maybe I'll be able to sit through a documentary for once.
Roxxy:Are you sure?
She looks to Waylon, and then up to her brother, who gives her a smile and a nod. She hugs Waylon tightly, before hopping up from the hammock.
Roxxy:Oh my god, I have to pack!
She rushes back to the elevator, and lowers herself into the basement. Scott gives Waylon a look of curiosity.
Waylon:What?
Scott:Are you going to be okay with her in California for a month.
Waylon:I'll be fine. She needs to do this. Besides, I could use a little time to myself anyway.
Scott:Who are you kidding, Tex? You're never complete without an audience.
The two men share another laugh, and then no more words. Scott merely walks over to his black SUV, and climbs into the driver's side, leaving Waylon to watch the sun set in the distance. He waits until the stars are clear in the black sky, before heading back down into the basement, to spend one last night with his fiance.
