Post by jasoncash on Aug 19, 2016 19:53:59 GMT -5
Y'know, our hillbilly hero hasn't always been a drunk who just like to beat people up. There was a time when he did it while sober. Let me take you back a few years.
It was a warm and very muggy night. Mississippi falls always were. The humidity was high enough to make one feel as if they were in a warm bath. This night was cloudless. A full moon hung high in the sky, its light nearly being overtaken by what are called the Friday night lights. The smell of fresh cut grass and sweat filled the air. The fans in the stands cheered at the top of their lungs. It was high enough to burst ear drums.
This was the Simpson County Superbowl. It was Mendenhall versus Magee. Magee hated the black and gold of Mendenhall. Mendenhall hated the red and grey of Magee. It was a rivalry that went back decades.
Jason Cash was a freshman, but he had the size and skill to play for the highschool team. He'd led the defense to nearly all shutouts. He was ranked as the best linebacker in the state and top ten players in the country.
He stood on the sidelines watching the kickoff. His long, dark hair blowing in the wind. He was filling concentrating. He didn't hear the crowd yelling. He didn't hear his teammate talking. All he smelled was that fresh cut grass. All je heard were his own thoughts.
Magee took the ball twenty yards as red trampled the black. The returned was very fast. He'd caused problems all night. The crowd was a mix of boos and screams.
Jason, who was only fourteen and nearly six feet tall strapped on his golden helmet. He stepped onto that hallowed ground when he felt himself get jerked from behind. He turned to see Coach Paes.
Coach Paes was a massive bald man with a mustache. He always wore the same, old, tired hoodie that he'd had since he played for Mendenhall.
" Get me the ball back", he said, grabbing Jason's face mask.
This was the last regular season game of the year. The ratty old scoreboard said 21-20 for the away team. Jason's squad was down by one.
Now, Jason didn't know what to say. He lacked experience in these types of situations. And so he said nothing. He simply nodded his head and ignored the pain in his joints from all the hits he'd given and received.
He stepped on the field, feeling the grass crunch beneath his feet. He rebelled in hearing the crowd cgant "defense...defense". He lined up next to Rod Bridges, the massive right defensive end. Rod was Jason's best friend.
"Make room", Jason said to his friend. Rod nodded and turned his head to look straight on.
Coach Paes had called a run blitz. There was only twenty seconds left in the game. Magee would surely just run, right? Jason wasn't so sure. He lined up wide right, giving him a nearly straight who to the quarterback. His limbs shook. He breathed heavily. He was nervous.
The wind began to pick up, carrying the sound of thousands of screaming fans. It cooled his sweaty face.
"Hut..hut"
And Jason took off like a bullet. He beat the right tackle off the line, half swatted, half snatched the ball. He just started running. He saw nothing but the end zone. A ran for a touchdown. The Mendenhall Tigers had won the game twenty six to twenty one. He was the hero.
Later than night, our young hero found himself at what was basically a shack. It was an old, run down farmhouse that was probably beautiful a hundred years ag. Now? Now it was barely standing.
There was a huge bonfire burning about five hundred feet from the house. People surrounded it. Nearly everyone wore tigers gear.
Rod, a black man and Jason's best friend walked over carrying two red solo cups. He kind of danced to the Tupac song that blasted on the speakers.
"You deserve this", he said in a raspy voice. Rod had been yelling all game. He was a vocal leader on the team. He was also huge at well over six feet and nearly three hundred pounds.
Jason was wary. He was still shaking with excitement and didn't want to ruin his nee white shirt, jeans, or cowboy boots. But he took the cup anyway. He put the cup to his mouth and drank in the liquid that would change his life. Jason got very drunk that night. He made a fool of himself like just about everyone does their first time....
Of course he kept playing football until facing a tragedy, but that is another story for another day.
......present day.....
Jason Cash was sweating profusely as he sat on his old, yellow, torn couch. His air conditioner had basically blown up the day before. He wasn't home of course. Shep had an emergency and he'd driven to Houston to help. Hell, Shep ran off after a good freak out. Jason had to help find the crazy fucker.
And so he sat there on that couch with Nicole and Zoey by his side. Their hair blew in the wind of a box fan. It did just enough to take the edge off. Of course it did nothing for Jason. Jason was always sweating.
The news was on. And the story that was being talked about bothered our hillbilly hero.
The video started at Bart Bradshaws trailer. Bert Case, an old report with no hair and wrinkled all over his face was on the scene.
" Bert Case here at the home of Bert Bradshaw. Bert was found dead in his yard earlier today. There are currently no leads."
Jason's heart skipped a beat. His felt his phone buzz. He took it out of his pocket. It was a text from Erik.
" Dont worry. I've already taken care of it."
Jason's face, which had turned stark white, got a little more color. His wife, Nicole seemed to have noticed as she did look over..but she said nothing.
Jason got up and walked to the fridge. He grabbed a beer.
" Baby, I'm gonna go out back and chop a little bit. Maybe fill up that swimmin pool fer Zoey.", he said as he took a drink.
" Anything wrong?", She asked. "Naw. Just too damn hot in here.", he answered.
Things weren't any better outside. The sun was high in the sky. There were no clouds and barely even a breeze.
Jason walked behind the old, rusty trailer home to his old, busted shed. It was nearly falling apart. The paint had faded years ago. It needed completely rebuilt.
Jason had wood everywhere. Now, why he needed it was something he only knew himself. One could guess that chopping the wood kept him in shape.
"And put another dubya in the win column fer Zero Tolerance. We just can't damn it be beat. We told them sumbitches that they didnt have what it takes. And did they? Hell naw. I reckon Plaque got some damn sense in his head and left that damn nazi by himself. Real coward that man is. Couldn't take the ass whoopin he was gettin..so he ran off like a damn bitch. What a damn shame. I reckon he didn't wanna Hal ass it..so he no assed it."
He picked up the ax. Chop! He busted the wood with one swing.
" And now we got this sumbitchin slam. We got a damn clown, plaque again..and what do ya know? A damn follower of his.
Now this clown sumbitch. He's the big man. He got the big belt. Won it bout a month back. He aint no damn push over. Of course his ass aint ZT either..So he already has that mess goin against him. I'd hate ta whoop a clowns ass but I reckon I'm gone have to. Yer either Zeto Tolerance or ya lose. That's just how it is. That's just how its always gone be.
This is a sumbitch what done it all. He a fighter. Hell I'm excited. Atlesst I know one sumbitchcross the rang from us aint gone damn run like a bitch. Bishop did. Sumbitch high tailed it outs there when he realized he was in over 'is head. He went in that sumbitch thankin he was set..with his nazi and midget teammates. He was wrong. And ran off like a sumbitchin punk when his ass found out he was wrong. Now? Hell now he gone get his ass whooped twice."
As he chopped, sweat pouring down his body, a tall, rather chunky man with a cowboy hat, came around the corner.
This was the sheriff of Simpson County. This was the Andy that Jason had previously spoken of.
He was a big man who stood around six foot six. He looked stern. And he was. He was a believer in back woods justice. Meaning that he didn't take any shit. He handled things his way. If that way was dropping a body in the swamp then that's what happened. He was feared in the county so the crime rate was very low.
Jason dropped the ax. " Andy! How ya doin boy?", Jason yelled with a smile. The smile, however, was not returned. Sherriff Maxwell didnt find Jason's antics funny at all. He never did.
" I aint here ta arrest ya.", Sheriff Maxwell said. Jason didn't think as much. He was sure he would wind up in jail.
" Ya here ta whoop my ass like them city cops?", Jason asked.
" I'm only here fer information. ", he said as he took a drink of Jason's now warm beer.
"Hows the wrestling biness treatin ya?", he asked.
Jason wiped his face with his sleeve. "Perty damn good. We whoop wholesale ass. Aint lost a sumbitchin match yet", Jason said with a grin.
Sheriff Maxwell nodded. He had been a fan of Jason's since the beginning. He'd always looked put for Jason ever since his dad passed away all those years ago.
"I know ya had a run in with Bart at the Smokey Buscuit a couple days ago.", he started. " That sumbitch slapped his woman", Jason said, cutting the sheriff off.
Sheriff Maxwell looked annoyed. "It don't matter why. I woulda done the same damn thang. I wanna know if ya killed 'im.", the good sheriff asked. Jason shook his head. " I ain't no killer. I whooped his ass and I was done with it.", Jason answered.
Sheriff Maxwell eyed Jason closely. He stared at our hero for what seemed like hours. "Alright then. I'll leave ya to yer choppin.", the sheriff said before turning around and walking away, still feeling a bit suspicious.
Jason noticed, even though he'd been drinking. After all, He was somewhat of a functional drunk. He didn't know what to think, so he continued chopping wood.
2 days later...
Jason John Cash sat at Erik Black's desk. He sat in the Italian leather chair, looking out of the window, trying not to get tobacco spit on Erik's white carpet.
Erik's office was entirely white. The back wall was basically a huge window. The left wall held the numerous championships Erik had won over the years. There were tag titles, world titles, etc. They were all there. The left wall was a shark tank.
Jason was drinking as per usual. Erik had asked for a meeting but he was late and Jason was starting to get board. He'd drank his last beer and felt like his tongue was beginning to swell.
He was staring out of the window when he noticed a beer truck pull up to the curb. A driver got out and quickly unloaded a keg. Jason's mouth begs to water. And that is when he got the idea.
He picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. " Yea Budweiser? This here's Erik Black. I own the Zero Tolerance buildin ovar near fifth street and I got a big ass order fer ya.", he started. There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"Sir, Erik Black doesn't have an accent."
Jason grinned a bit. " Like hell I don't. My sumbitchin name is Erik Black and I wanna order a couple of them kegs and dispensers like I saw on the online internets. And I want them sumbitches delivered right damn now.", he said, trying to hide his laughter. He kicks his mud covered cowboy boots up on the desk and leaned back in the chair.
"ok sir. We'll get a truck over right away."
" That sumbitch better damn be here by noon.", he told the lady on the phone before hanging up.
Jason had never acted quite so demanding before. It felt good.
He'd noticed the mud had gotten all over Erik's desk at about the time when the two huge oak doors that led into the office swung open.
Erik walked in dressed in a black suit. He didn't look happy. He never really did these days. He eyed Jason's boots and the mud on his desk. He let out a loud sigh.
"Bout sumbitchin time ya got here!", Jason started. "I been waitin all damn mornin!", he added.
Erik rolled his eyes. "I was up for the past few days dealing with Salem's shit. And now you have mud everywhere. Where the fuck did it even come from? It hasn't rained here in weeks.", Erik said with a sigh. He looked tired..tired and pissed off. Erik rarely ever got pissed off. He never got angry at all. It was against all of his training.
" Jenn let my ass in. Told me ta make myself like at home.", Jason said. Erik rubbed his temple. Everything was weighing him down. Jason noticed. " The hells wrong?", Jason asked. Erik paused. " You guys are giving me headaches.", Erik answered.
Jason got up from the chair. Mud was everywhere. Erik eyed it and shook his head.
"If yer just gone be all pissy, I'll go to the bar an drank a little while", Jason said. "No.", Erik replied as he took his seat.
"I hate having to clean up after you.", Erik said matter of factly. Jason took off his hat and scratched his head. "You left that pipe. Luckily, my guys found it before the cops did. You'd be in alot of trouble.", Erik started. Jason put his hat back on. "So what do ya thank I should do?", Jason asked. Erik thought for a minute. " Nothing. You had a fight at a bar. That doesn't mean you did anything else.",Erik said.
Jason sat down on the white leather couch, still getting mud everywhere. " And what if Andy asks me more sumbitchin questions?", Jason asked.
" Then we make sure those questions aren't asked again."
Erik's phone beeped. His secretary, Jennifer's, voice followed. " Mr. Black I have a Budweiser rep here for you.", she said. " What does he want", Erik asked. There was a pause. "He says he has the kegs you ordered.", she answered.
Erik gave the ok to let the rep in just before the two huge doors opened. The rep was an older man dressed in a Budweiser polo shirt and black pants. He was wheeler a fairly large keg with a dolly.
" Where would you like this, Mr. Black?", he asked. Erik stared at the man. " I didn't order anything.", Erik said, clearly annoyed. Jason laughed. He couldn't hold it anymore.
" You know you get this big ole vein in yer forehead when ya get mad?", He asked. Erik stared a hole through him. "You ordered this?", Erik asked. Jason nodded. " I reckon ya needed a couple. Bein there aint no beer in yer tiny little fridgerator ovar.", Jason answered.
" Put it in the corner by the bar.", Erik answered. The rep put the keg by the bar. Jason wasted no time filling up a cup and downing the contents. Afterwards, he filled up another.
" Drink up, Cash. You have an interview with Mr. Buzz Worthy from WCF. He's in the meeting room.", Erik said. Jason was taken back. An interview with the hillbilly hero?
He filled his cup up once more and headed down to the meeting room
The ZT meeting room was massive. There was a big round table. A huge tv hung in the left wall. At the back of the room near the big window was Buz Worthy dressed in a blue suit. He stuck out with the white walls of the room With him was a man holding a camera.
Jason took two steps into the room before shouting "Yall better make my ass look good!".
Buzz Worthy and the camera guy both jumped in shocked. Jason walked over, shook each of their hands and took a seat.
" I want you to know that I've been wanting to meet with all of you.", he said. Jason grinned, nodded, and took a drink from his cup. Buzz Worthy pointed to the camera man. It was his signal.
"Hello WCF. This is Buzz Worthy. I'm here with Jason Cash of Zero Tolerance.", he started. Jason tipped his cowboy hat.
" First of all, I want to congratulate you on your success. Zero Tolerance has been on a roll.",Worthy continued. Jason smiled, took a drink, and tipped his hat.
Buzz Worthy paused. He was expecting feedback. "Well, I guess it I should just come out and ask. What makes ZT so successful?", he asked.
Jason smiled, nodded, and tipped his hat. Buzz motioned to the camera man to stop filming. " I need you to speak here, Mr. Cash.", he said. "Alright.", Jason answered. Worthy motioned to restart.
"What has made Zero Tolerance so successful?",Worthy asked. Jason grinned from ear to ear. "My ass is just here so I don't dam I it get fined.", Cash answered, trying not to laugh.
Again, Buzz Worthy called cut. " Look, you have to answer. I get the joke and all..", He started but Jason cut him off. "I aint gotta do a damn thang.", Jason said. Buzz Worthy looked annoyed. He motioned to the cameraman again.
" Jason, what makes Zero Tolerance so successful?", he asked.
Jason grinned. " I'm just here so I.", he started to say. Buzz rubbed his temples. Jason started to laugh.
. "Hell Buzz. You ain't got a lick a sense of humor do ya? You wanna damn know what makes us successful? We three tough sumbitches what like ta whoop ass. Crazy J? That sumbitch is off his gahddamn rocker, but you know what? He's a sumbitch what gone fight till he can't damn it move no more. Shep? I still aint sure that sumbitch dont thank he's in a video game. He just whoops wholesale ass. And me? Hell I thrive on pain. Whoop my ass a little bit and see if that mess stops me. It don't. Just makes it worse on you. And we fight like a sumbitchin team. We a damn family."
Buzz was quite happy to have finally gotten an answer. He crossed something off of his paper before continuing. "What do you really think about Kevin Bishop? I know that, in some wrestling places, everyone is friends but they compete" Worthy started but was cut off. "You talkin bout Plaque?", Jason asked. Worthy nodded. "Plague, yes", he said.
" I know what his sumbitchin name is. I call that sumbitch plaque cause he a dirty man....Looks like he homeless as hell. I kinda wanna find ole boy a home. Trim that beard down...Get 'im a big time job at the Walmart. Sumbitch'd prolly make one hell of a greater.", Jason said before taking a drink of his beer. " Welcome to Walmart, wanna come bang my wife?", Jason laughed in his best Bishop impersonation. Of course it was terrible.
And again Worthy scratched something off his list. "Ok, I'm going to say a name. You tell me the first thing that pops into your head. Ok?", Worthy asked. Jason grinned a wide grin at the man. " You sure? Might not be fit fer tv.", Jason said.
"Ok. Kevin Bishop.", Worthy said. Jason stared blankly at Worthy. "Hobo."
"Lester Parish.", Worthy said. Again, Jason stared blankly. "Lester the molester cockenschtuff.", Jason said hiding a grin.
" Gemini Battle.", Worthy continued. Jason stared blanlky once again. " Bitch...Coward.. More bitch...Fake ass clown.", Jason said.
Hed broken the rules. It was clear to see that he hated Gemini Battle. Buzz Worthy caught it. "That was more than one word. Why?",Worthy asked. Jason took a drink from his cup before smiling at Buzz Worthy. " Because that's what I thank of that sumbitch. He's a bitch...hes a damn coward. You seen his videos. Sumbitch always sendin some damn body else ta do his dirty work. He a damn coward.", Jason said, letting his hate show.
"I can't stand a damn coward.", Jason added before drinking the rest of the contents of his cup.
"Well this has certainly been eye opening. Two of your opponents have already spoke. Have you had a chance to see yet?," Worthy asked. Jason smiled, and tipped his hat. Back to his old tricks. Worthy started to say cut but Cash started laughing.
"Naw...It don't matter what they said. They prolly went on bout how they gone win. That's how this mess works. But they aint. ZT is a runaway freight train and we aint damn it stoppin no time soon.", Jason said.
Buzz Worthy took that as his que to wrap things up. " Well, I'd like to thank you for your time, Mr. Cash. This has been a real eye opening interview.", Worthy said. The two shook hands and Jason Cash left the room.
A few hours later, Jason Cash found himself outside on a park bench. It was sunny. Not a cloud graced the sky. Birds chirped. People were out running, whether it was for an errand or exercise. Jason, who had a massive dip that caused him to look like Bubba from.Forrest Gump, took out his little handicam. He made sure the red light was on. He pointed it to his face, not really sure if he was in the picture..He wasn't. There was a teenage couple making out in the grass behind him.
" Gemini Battle. I'd come up with a sumbitchin nickname fer ya but you ain't worth the trouble. You ain't. Sure yer ass might be the world champion. You might be the big dog round wssfff... But you oughta know one thang. See.. I got this nasty habit of gettin good and drunk..and then takin out the biggest sumbitchin dog in the yard. That's be you, Gemini. The biggin. Now..I see ya like ta talk bout the past. Well let me let yer ass in on a little somethin."
Cash grinned to himself.
" I remember when you was just a bitch. What they call a sumbitchin jobber. A nobody. Hell you didn't do a damn thang till all the tough sumbitches left. You wasn't shit then and ya ain't shit now. Hell if anythang ya just got worse. Hell least back then ya fought yer own battles. Now? Hell son now yer sendin in other sumbitches ta fight em for ya. That makes you a damn coward. What the hell happened to ya? You ain't tough and ya sure as shit dont deserve ta be called a damn champion. Champions fight their own battles. They wade into that sumbitch head first. They don't send nobody else ta damn do it for em.
Hell I reckon it started back then though. I know ya's send Shipmans sorry ass into that damn rang...Yer opponents would get tired out by beatin his ass...And get good and wore out. Then you'd get the pin. CAuse hell....I aint never seen that sumbitch win a match... Even and I've known that bastard fer years. I whooped his ass more times than I can damn it count.
But what the hell do I know? I'm just a stupid hillbilly. Which I freely admit. Hell I don't read too good. I dont math. Know what I can do? What Im good as hell at? Whoopin wholesale ass. That's what Im good at. Can't no damn body go knee deep in asshole like Jason John Cash. Can't no damn body put up the fight like I do. Not even the wssfff world champion. He might thank he does..but we all know that a sumbitch what don't damn it like ta wade into battle head first aint no daisy at all."
The teenage couple making out were getting hot and heavy. The guy, who looked rather young, now had his hand up the blonde girl's blue shirt.
"You the sumbitch what makes things go bump in the night? Huh? I gotta ask...You a damn fart too? You seem ta be every damn thang what happens at night. Oooo the wind blew.. Must be that agemini bastard. Ooooo lightin struck? Must be Gemini. Dogs just barkin? They barkin at Gemini. I reckon you every damn thang what happens in the dark. When I farted last night on the couch...in the dark.. Was that really you? I didnt really damn it fart, did I? That was you stalkin all of normal folk, huh? Save that bullshit fer some damn body who gives a shit. I done whooped the sumbitch that does that mess. Jaymz... He fot the devil in 'im. He the sumbitch what gone run Hell soon as he kicks the damn bucket. You, GB? You ain't shit. It's all in yer damn head. In reality....oh boy..in reality, yer a broke down old man....and a small one at that....lookin like gahddsmn clown on crack. The shit is up with that? You sposed ta be a rich sumbitch but yer lookin like yer lookin fer yer next hit. Suck some dick fer some crack? Or make yer bitch do it? She know yer a clown faced crack head? I'm bettin she don’t. I'm bettin you keep a whole hell of alot from that woman... LIke how yer a sumbitchin coward and all that mess"
Things were getting even hotter and heavier behind him. The girl now had her hand in the guys pants.
"Y'know...Ya look familiar. Ya look like that sumbitch from that brokeback mountain movie. Now, I stay away from that kinda mess, but I did see the previews...And you should be damnit be ashamed....Only you got makeup on. I got it..I'm gonna call you brokeback cause you look like that sumbitch
Why so serious? Cause somebody just went balls deep in ya, brokeback? And since yer gonna be called brokeback, I reckon we can go ahread and name yer little team Brotherhood of the Brokedick Mountain. Cause we got Brokeback Mountain in Geminia...and then the brotherhood of the brokedick plague. I like it. I can see that mess right now. Announcer in the rang.. "Coming to the ring, being followed by some bitch on crack The Brotherhood of the brokedick Mountain!" And the crowd boos their asses off cause Gemini is a sumbitchin coward, Bishop is just borin as all hell and Lester looks like a kid toucher. And then yall come on down to that damn rang and we put boots to asses. Yall lose, Bishop quits again cause that sumbitch refuses ta be pinned by the greatest sumbitchin stable wssf has ever damn seen and ZT continues it's run of dominance..Not even the world champ can stop us. That mess seem about right.
Now...dont forget their fearless leader...or should I say fearFULL leader The Plaque...Kevin Bishop. Now..I know yer sumbitchin name aint the Plaque. I might be a damn redneck, hillbilly, mountain man, whatever the hell you wanna call my ass this week... But I know a hobo when I see one... and You look like the dirtiest sumbitchin hobo in the streets. That’s why I call yer ass the Plaque.. Cause yer teeth are all yellow...and Yer so damn dirty ya look black. Hell son...When ya smile, ya look like a Steelers helmet. Hell I'd rather give you a damn bath rather than whoop yer ass. Is that why yer wife dont give ya none? Yea..I heard Crazy J say that yer ole lady lets Lester the molester bang her and makes you watch. Prolly cause yer so damn dirty, huh? I reckon she done had it with them damn yeast infections yer ass been givin her all these years. You ole nasty ass sumbitch. Oughta be ashamed of yerself.
How bout ya just quit the rasslin biz and just go be a Walmart greeter. Of course you'd have ta trim that beard a little bit. Maybe bathe atleast once a sumbitchin week. I be you could find all kinda sumbitches what can join yer brotherhood of the fuck my wife.
Now what I don’t get is this mess. Last week ya went round sayin ya refuse ta lose to Zero Tolerance. Ya tried hypin up yer teammates. Told em what I just said. Toldem they'd better damn it fight hard cause you aint about ta damn lose. And what happened? Ya turned chickenshit, humped Baron a little bit and ran off like a bitch. You aint gone do that mess this time...Are ya.
And since ya ran off like a punk last week, I gotta question how you even have followers? Do ya really just let em hump yer wife? Is that why they round? That why they follow ya? It cant be yer leadership skills. Leaders don’t damn it talk mess and then run away when they realize that they got their ass in way over their heads. Real leaders aint cowards like 'at. Or maybe ya just cater to the lower common denominator. Ya offer up yer ole lady's body, they follow ya, but they aint never gone drank that koolaide ya got. They should..but they prolly aint gone do it. Eventually, they just gone leave yer dirty, hobo lookin ass.
All yer ass had last week was my camera work... Which is perty damn good if I must say so myself"
An old lady had walked up on the couple and was, at that moment, bitching the both of them out. She was swinging her walker at them as they tried to get away. We didnt see Cash's face at all.
"What ya got this week? Soap? That'd be a damn start. A sense of humor" That'd be a plus. Have ya decided not ta be borin as hell? That'd be about the best damn than you could do. Cause yer...borin as hell. Talkin all monotone and mess. Half assin every damn thang. Last week ya no assed it. Ya saw that ya couldn’t sumbitchin win and ya high tailed it outa there. You gone atleast half ass it this time? I mean..Ya dont wanna let that fat bastard Lester the Molester down, do ya? I reckon not...
Speakin of the kid toucher. Can you even see yer dick, Lester? Gotta pick that big ole belly up ta take a piss, don’t ya? That yer workouts? Ya gotta curl that big ole belly ta even take a damn piss. But hell...gettin yer fat ass of the couch is half the battle, aint it? I guess what I'm tryin ta damn say is yer fat as hell. I want ya to know that we didnt steal yer twinkies... That was Bishop. He stole them submitches while you was lookin fer yer dick cause Karma wanted some. Hell I don’t wanna give you an ass whoopin...I wanna give you a sumbitchin carrot.
Now I'm gone admit..I aint ever seen you in the rang. Watchin a fat bastard try ta fight just don’t interest me... But I did look at yer bio....And when I saw that picture...I thought I was watching dateline...You know.. That to catch a predator show? Sumbitch looks like screen shot from a preview. "ON the next to catch a predator...This fat bastard".
And what in the actual shit was that mess you aired ealier this week? I don’t seen a whole hell of a lot of weird mess...But I aint never in my life seen somethin like that. The hell was you doin? Some kinda seance ta get the easter bunny ta brang yer ass some chocolate? Hell I'll brang you something ta eat if yer hungry, son. Aint no reason ta go all weird as shit. Ya could just be tryin ta be some kinda Jesus. Now...I could be wrong as hell..but I dont thank Jesus was a kid toucher lookin sumbitch with a puzzle mask on."
The old lady had ran the young couple off. She noticed Jason's camera and started walking over.
"The three of yall are in fer a rude awakenin if yall thank yall gone beat the greatest stable of all time. We a fightin machine...Well oiled. Yall are a groupd of coward and a fat bastard. Gemini? Coward. Bishop? Coward and a hobo. Lester the Molester? Might just be too fat ta get in the sumbitchin rang. Yall better brang it..cause we are.
Owww! What the shit?!"
The old lady hit Jason over the head with her walker
Scene fades
It was a warm and very muggy night. Mississippi falls always were. The humidity was high enough to make one feel as if they were in a warm bath. This night was cloudless. A full moon hung high in the sky, its light nearly being overtaken by what are called the Friday night lights. The smell of fresh cut grass and sweat filled the air. The fans in the stands cheered at the top of their lungs. It was high enough to burst ear drums.
This was the Simpson County Superbowl. It was Mendenhall versus Magee. Magee hated the black and gold of Mendenhall. Mendenhall hated the red and grey of Magee. It was a rivalry that went back decades.
Jason Cash was a freshman, but he had the size and skill to play for the highschool team. He'd led the defense to nearly all shutouts. He was ranked as the best linebacker in the state and top ten players in the country.
He stood on the sidelines watching the kickoff. His long, dark hair blowing in the wind. He was filling concentrating. He didn't hear the crowd yelling. He didn't hear his teammate talking. All he smelled was that fresh cut grass. All je heard were his own thoughts.
Magee took the ball twenty yards as red trampled the black. The returned was very fast. He'd caused problems all night. The crowd was a mix of boos and screams.
Jason, who was only fourteen and nearly six feet tall strapped on his golden helmet. He stepped onto that hallowed ground when he felt himself get jerked from behind. He turned to see Coach Paes.
Coach Paes was a massive bald man with a mustache. He always wore the same, old, tired hoodie that he'd had since he played for Mendenhall.
" Get me the ball back", he said, grabbing Jason's face mask.
This was the last regular season game of the year. The ratty old scoreboard said 21-20 for the away team. Jason's squad was down by one.
Now, Jason didn't know what to say. He lacked experience in these types of situations. And so he said nothing. He simply nodded his head and ignored the pain in his joints from all the hits he'd given and received.
He stepped on the field, feeling the grass crunch beneath his feet. He rebelled in hearing the crowd cgant "defense...defense". He lined up next to Rod Bridges, the massive right defensive end. Rod was Jason's best friend.
"Make room", Jason said to his friend. Rod nodded and turned his head to look straight on.
Coach Paes had called a run blitz. There was only twenty seconds left in the game. Magee would surely just run, right? Jason wasn't so sure. He lined up wide right, giving him a nearly straight who to the quarterback. His limbs shook. He breathed heavily. He was nervous.
The wind began to pick up, carrying the sound of thousands of screaming fans. It cooled his sweaty face.
"Hut..hut"
And Jason took off like a bullet. He beat the right tackle off the line, half swatted, half snatched the ball. He just started running. He saw nothing but the end zone. A ran for a touchdown. The Mendenhall Tigers had won the game twenty six to twenty one. He was the hero.
Later than night, our young hero found himself at what was basically a shack. It was an old, run down farmhouse that was probably beautiful a hundred years ag. Now? Now it was barely standing.
There was a huge bonfire burning about five hundred feet from the house. People surrounded it. Nearly everyone wore tigers gear.
Rod, a black man and Jason's best friend walked over carrying two red solo cups. He kind of danced to the Tupac song that blasted on the speakers.
"You deserve this", he said in a raspy voice. Rod had been yelling all game. He was a vocal leader on the team. He was also huge at well over six feet and nearly three hundred pounds.
Jason was wary. He was still shaking with excitement and didn't want to ruin his nee white shirt, jeans, or cowboy boots. But he took the cup anyway. He put the cup to his mouth and drank in the liquid that would change his life. Jason got very drunk that night. He made a fool of himself like just about everyone does their first time....
Of course he kept playing football until facing a tragedy, but that is another story for another day.
......present day.....
Jason Cash was sweating profusely as he sat on his old, yellow, torn couch. His air conditioner had basically blown up the day before. He wasn't home of course. Shep had an emergency and he'd driven to Houston to help. Hell, Shep ran off after a good freak out. Jason had to help find the crazy fucker.
And so he sat there on that couch with Nicole and Zoey by his side. Their hair blew in the wind of a box fan. It did just enough to take the edge off. Of course it did nothing for Jason. Jason was always sweating.
The news was on. And the story that was being talked about bothered our hillbilly hero.
The video started at Bart Bradshaws trailer. Bert Case, an old report with no hair and wrinkled all over his face was on the scene.
" Bert Case here at the home of Bert Bradshaw. Bert was found dead in his yard earlier today. There are currently no leads."
Jason's heart skipped a beat. His felt his phone buzz. He took it out of his pocket. It was a text from Erik.
" Dont worry. I've already taken care of it."
Jason's face, which had turned stark white, got a little more color. His wife, Nicole seemed to have noticed as she did look over..but she said nothing.
Jason got up and walked to the fridge. He grabbed a beer.
" Baby, I'm gonna go out back and chop a little bit. Maybe fill up that swimmin pool fer Zoey.", he said as he took a drink.
" Anything wrong?", She asked. "Naw. Just too damn hot in here.", he answered.
Things weren't any better outside. The sun was high in the sky. There were no clouds and barely even a breeze.
Jason walked behind the old, rusty trailer home to his old, busted shed. It was nearly falling apart. The paint had faded years ago. It needed completely rebuilt.
Jason had wood everywhere. Now, why he needed it was something he only knew himself. One could guess that chopping the wood kept him in shape.
"And put another dubya in the win column fer Zero Tolerance. We just can't damn it be beat. We told them sumbitches that they didnt have what it takes. And did they? Hell naw. I reckon Plaque got some damn sense in his head and left that damn nazi by himself. Real coward that man is. Couldn't take the ass whoopin he was gettin..so he ran off like a damn bitch. What a damn shame. I reckon he didn't wanna Hal ass it..so he no assed it."
He picked up the ax. Chop! He busted the wood with one swing.
" And now we got this sumbitchin slam. We got a damn clown, plaque again..and what do ya know? A damn follower of his.
Now this clown sumbitch. He's the big man. He got the big belt. Won it bout a month back. He aint no damn push over. Of course his ass aint ZT either..So he already has that mess goin against him. I'd hate ta whoop a clowns ass but I reckon I'm gone have to. Yer either Zeto Tolerance or ya lose. That's just how it is. That's just how its always gone be.
This is a sumbitch what done it all. He a fighter. Hell I'm excited. Atlesst I know one sumbitchcross the rang from us aint gone damn run like a bitch. Bishop did. Sumbitch high tailed it outs there when he realized he was in over 'is head. He went in that sumbitch thankin he was set..with his nazi and midget teammates. He was wrong. And ran off like a sumbitchin punk when his ass found out he was wrong. Now? Hell now he gone get his ass whooped twice."
As he chopped, sweat pouring down his body, a tall, rather chunky man with a cowboy hat, came around the corner.
This was the sheriff of Simpson County. This was the Andy that Jason had previously spoken of.
He was a big man who stood around six foot six. He looked stern. And he was. He was a believer in back woods justice. Meaning that he didn't take any shit. He handled things his way. If that way was dropping a body in the swamp then that's what happened. He was feared in the county so the crime rate was very low.
Jason dropped the ax. " Andy! How ya doin boy?", Jason yelled with a smile. The smile, however, was not returned. Sherriff Maxwell didnt find Jason's antics funny at all. He never did.
" I aint here ta arrest ya.", Sheriff Maxwell said. Jason didn't think as much. He was sure he would wind up in jail.
" Ya here ta whoop my ass like them city cops?", Jason asked.
" I'm only here fer information. ", he said as he took a drink of Jason's now warm beer.
"Hows the wrestling biness treatin ya?", he asked.
Jason wiped his face with his sleeve. "Perty damn good. We whoop wholesale ass. Aint lost a sumbitchin match yet", Jason said with a grin.
Sheriff Maxwell nodded. He had been a fan of Jason's since the beginning. He'd always looked put for Jason ever since his dad passed away all those years ago.
"I know ya had a run in with Bart at the Smokey Buscuit a couple days ago.", he started. " That sumbitch slapped his woman", Jason said, cutting the sheriff off.
Sheriff Maxwell looked annoyed. "It don't matter why. I woulda done the same damn thang. I wanna know if ya killed 'im.", the good sheriff asked. Jason shook his head. " I ain't no killer. I whooped his ass and I was done with it.", Jason answered.
Sheriff Maxwell eyed Jason closely. He stared at our hero for what seemed like hours. "Alright then. I'll leave ya to yer choppin.", the sheriff said before turning around and walking away, still feeling a bit suspicious.
Jason noticed, even though he'd been drinking. After all, He was somewhat of a functional drunk. He didn't know what to think, so he continued chopping wood.
2 days later...
Jason John Cash sat at Erik Black's desk. He sat in the Italian leather chair, looking out of the window, trying not to get tobacco spit on Erik's white carpet.
Erik's office was entirely white. The back wall was basically a huge window. The left wall held the numerous championships Erik had won over the years. There were tag titles, world titles, etc. They were all there. The left wall was a shark tank.
Jason was drinking as per usual. Erik had asked for a meeting but he was late and Jason was starting to get board. He'd drank his last beer and felt like his tongue was beginning to swell.
He was staring out of the window when he noticed a beer truck pull up to the curb. A driver got out and quickly unloaded a keg. Jason's mouth begs to water. And that is when he got the idea.
He picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. " Yea Budweiser? This here's Erik Black. I own the Zero Tolerance buildin ovar near fifth street and I got a big ass order fer ya.", he started. There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"Sir, Erik Black doesn't have an accent."
Jason grinned a bit. " Like hell I don't. My sumbitchin name is Erik Black and I wanna order a couple of them kegs and dispensers like I saw on the online internets. And I want them sumbitches delivered right damn now.", he said, trying to hide his laughter. He kicks his mud covered cowboy boots up on the desk and leaned back in the chair.
"ok sir. We'll get a truck over right away."
" That sumbitch better damn be here by noon.", he told the lady on the phone before hanging up.
Jason had never acted quite so demanding before. It felt good.
He'd noticed the mud had gotten all over Erik's desk at about the time when the two huge oak doors that led into the office swung open.
Erik walked in dressed in a black suit. He didn't look happy. He never really did these days. He eyed Jason's boots and the mud on his desk. He let out a loud sigh.
"Bout sumbitchin time ya got here!", Jason started. "I been waitin all damn mornin!", he added.
Erik rolled his eyes. "I was up for the past few days dealing with Salem's shit. And now you have mud everywhere. Where the fuck did it even come from? It hasn't rained here in weeks.", Erik said with a sigh. He looked tired..tired and pissed off. Erik rarely ever got pissed off. He never got angry at all. It was against all of his training.
" Jenn let my ass in. Told me ta make myself like at home.", Jason said. Erik rubbed his temple. Everything was weighing him down. Jason noticed. " The hells wrong?", Jason asked. Erik paused. " You guys are giving me headaches.", Erik answered.
Jason got up from the chair. Mud was everywhere. Erik eyed it and shook his head.
"If yer just gone be all pissy, I'll go to the bar an drank a little while", Jason said. "No.", Erik replied as he took his seat.
"I hate having to clean up after you.", Erik said matter of factly. Jason took off his hat and scratched his head. "You left that pipe. Luckily, my guys found it before the cops did. You'd be in alot of trouble.", Erik started. Jason put his hat back on. "So what do ya thank I should do?", Jason asked. Erik thought for a minute. " Nothing. You had a fight at a bar. That doesn't mean you did anything else.",Erik said.
Jason sat down on the white leather couch, still getting mud everywhere. " And what if Andy asks me more sumbitchin questions?", Jason asked.
" Then we make sure those questions aren't asked again."
Erik's phone beeped. His secretary, Jennifer's, voice followed. " Mr. Black I have a Budweiser rep here for you.", she said. " What does he want", Erik asked. There was a pause. "He says he has the kegs you ordered.", she answered.
Erik gave the ok to let the rep in just before the two huge doors opened. The rep was an older man dressed in a Budweiser polo shirt and black pants. He was wheeler a fairly large keg with a dolly.
" Where would you like this, Mr. Black?", he asked. Erik stared at the man. " I didn't order anything.", Erik said, clearly annoyed. Jason laughed. He couldn't hold it anymore.
" You know you get this big ole vein in yer forehead when ya get mad?", He asked. Erik stared a hole through him. "You ordered this?", Erik asked. Jason nodded. " I reckon ya needed a couple. Bein there aint no beer in yer tiny little fridgerator ovar.", Jason answered.
" Put it in the corner by the bar.", Erik answered. The rep put the keg by the bar. Jason wasted no time filling up a cup and downing the contents. Afterwards, he filled up another.
" Drink up, Cash. You have an interview with Mr. Buzz Worthy from WCF. He's in the meeting room.", Erik said. Jason was taken back. An interview with the hillbilly hero?
He filled his cup up once more and headed down to the meeting room
The ZT meeting room was massive. There was a big round table. A huge tv hung in the left wall. At the back of the room near the big window was Buz Worthy dressed in a blue suit. He stuck out with the white walls of the room With him was a man holding a camera.
Jason took two steps into the room before shouting "Yall better make my ass look good!".
Buzz Worthy and the camera guy both jumped in shocked. Jason walked over, shook each of their hands and took a seat.
" I want you to know that I've been wanting to meet with all of you.", he said. Jason grinned, nodded, and took a drink from his cup. Buzz Worthy pointed to the camera man. It was his signal.
"Hello WCF. This is Buzz Worthy. I'm here with Jason Cash of Zero Tolerance.", he started. Jason tipped his cowboy hat.
" First of all, I want to congratulate you on your success. Zero Tolerance has been on a roll.",Worthy continued. Jason smiled, took a drink, and tipped his hat.
Buzz Worthy paused. He was expecting feedback. "Well, I guess it I should just come out and ask. What makes ZT so successful?", he asked.
Jason smiled, nodded, and tipped his hat. Buzz motioned to the camera man to stop filming. " I need you to speak here, Mr. Cash.", he said. "Alright.", Jason answered. Worthy motioned to restart.
"What has made Zero Tolerance so successful?",Worthy asked. Jason grinned from ear to ear. "My ass is just here so I don't dam I it get fined.", Cash answered, trying not to laugh.
Again, Buzz Worthy called cut. " Look, you have to answer. I get the joke and all..", He started but Jason cut him off. "I aint gotta do a damn thang.", Jason said. Buzz Worthy looked annoyed. He motioned to the cameraman again.
" Jason, what makes Zero Tolerance so successful?", he asked.
Jason grinned. " I'm just here so I.", he started to say. Buzz rubbed his temples. Jason started to laugh.
. "Hell Buzz. You ain't got a lick a sense of humor do ya? You wanna damn know what makes us successful? We three tough sumbitches what like ta whoop ass. Crazy J? That sumbitch is off his gahddamn rocker, but you know what? He's a sumbitch what gone fight till he can't damn it move no more. Shep? I still aint sure that sumbitch dont thank he's in a video game. He just whoops wholesale ass. And me? Hell I thrive on pain. Whoop my ass a little bit and see if that mess stops me. It don't. Just makes it worse on you. And we fight like a sumbitchin team. We a damn family."
Buzz was quite happy to have finally gotten an answer. He crossed something off of his paper before continuing. "What do you really think about Kevin Bishop? I know that, in some wrestling places, everyone is friends but they compete" Worthy started but was cut off. "You talkin bout Plaque?", Jason asked. Worthy nodded. "Plague, yes", he said.
" I know what his sumbitchin name is. I call that sumbitch plaque cause he a dirty man....Looks like he homeless as hell. I kinda wanna find ole boy a home. Trim that beard down...Get 'im a big time job at the Walmart. Sumbitch'd prolly make one hell of a greater.", Jason said before taking a drink of his beer. " Welcome to Walmart, wanna come bang my wife?", Jason laughed in his best Bishop impersonation. Of course it was terrible.
And again Worthy scratched something off his list. "Ok, I'm going to say a name. You tell me the first thing that pops into your head. Ok?", Worthy asked. Jason grinned a wide grin at the man. " You sure? Might not be fit fer tv.", Jason said.
"Ok. Kevin Bishop.", Worthy said. Jason stared blankly at Worthy. "Hobo."
"Lester Parish.", Worthy said. Again, Jason stared blankly. "Lester the molester cockenschtuff.", Jason said hiding a grin.
" Gemini Battle.", Worthy continued. Jason stared blanlky once again. " Bitch...Coward.. More bitch...Fake ass clown.", Jason said.
Hed broken the rules. It was clear to see that he hated Gemini Battle. Buzz Worthy caught it. "That was more than one word. Why?",Worthy asked. Jason took a drink from his cup before smiling at Buzz Worthy. " Because that's what I thank of that sumbitch. He's a bitch...hes a damn coward. You seen his videos. Sumbitch always sendin some damn body else ta do his dirty work. He a damn coward.", Jason said, letting his hate show.
"I can't stand a damn coward.", Jason added before drinking the rest of the contents of his cup.
"Well this has certainly been eye opening. Two of your opponents have already spoke. Have you had a chance to see yet?," Worthy asked. Jason smiled, and tipped his hat. Back to his old tricks. Worthy started to say cut but Cash started laughing.
"Naw...It don't matter what they said. They prolly went on bout how they gone win. That's how this mess works. But they aint. ZT is a runaway freight train and we aint damn it stoppin no time soon.", Jason said.
Buzz Worthy took that as his que to wrap things up. " Well, I'd like to thank you for your time, Mr. Cash. This has been a real eye opening interview.", Worthy said. The two shook hands and Jason Cash left the room.
A few hours later, Jason Cash found himself outside on a park bench. It was sunny. Not a cloud graced the sky. Birds chirped. People were out running, whether it was for an errand or exercise. Jason, who had a massive dip that caused him to look like Bubba from.Forrest Gump, took out his little handicam. He made sure the red light was on. He pointed it to his face, not really sure if he was in the picture..He wasn't. There was a teenage couple making out in the grass behind him.
" Gemini Battle. I'd come up with a sumbitchin nickname fer ya but you ain't worth the trouble. You ain't. Sure yer ass might be the world champion. You might be the big dog round wssfff... But you oughta know one thang. See.. I got this nasty habit of gettin good and drunk..and then takin out the biggest sumbitchin dog in the yard. That's be you, Gemini. The biggin. Now..I see ya like ta talk bout the past. Well let me let yer ass in on a little somethin."
Cash grinned to himself.
" I remember when you was just a bitch. What they call a sumbitchin jobber. A nobody. Hell you didn't do a damn thang till all the tough sumbitches left. You wasn't shit then and ya ain't shit now. Hell if anythang ya just got worse. Hell least back then ya fought yer own battles. Now? Hell son now yer sendin in other sumbitches ta fight em for ya. That makes you a damn coward. What the hell happened to ya? You ain't tough and ya sure as shit dont deserve ta be called a damn champion. Champions fight their own battles. They wade into that sumbitch head first. They don't send nobody else ta damn do it for em.
Hell I reckon it started back then though. I know ya's send Shipmans sorry ass into that damn rang...Yer opponents would get tired out by beatin his ass...And get good and wore out. Then you'd get the pin. CAuse hell....I aint never seen that sumbitch win a match... Even and I've known that bastard fer years. I whooped his ass more times than I can damn it count.
But what the hell do I know? I'm just a stupid hillbilly. Which I freely admit. Hell I don't read too good. I dont math. Know what I can do? What Im good as hell at? Whoopin wholesale ass. That's what Im good at. Can't no damn body go knee deep in asshole like Jason John Cash. Can't no damn body put up the fight like I do. Not even the wssfff world champion. He might thank he does..but we all know that a sumbitch what don't damn it like ta wade into battle head first aint no daisy at all."
The teenage couple making out were getting hot and heavy. The guy, who looked rather young, now had his hand up the blonde girl's blue shirt.
"You the sumbitch what makes things go bump in the night? Huh? I gotta ask...You a damn fart too? You seem ta be every damn thang what happens at night. Oooo the wind blew.. Must be that agemini bastard. Ooooo lightin struck? Must be Gemini. Dogs just barkin? They barkin at Gemini. I reckon you every damn thang what happens in the dark. When I farted last night on the couch...in the dark.. Was that really you? I didnt really damn it fart, did I? That was you stalkin all of normal folk, huh? Save that bullshit fer some damn body who gives a shit. I done whooped the sumbitch that does that mess. Jaymz... He fot the devil in 'im. He the sumbitch what gone run Hell soon as he kicks the damn bucket. You, GB? You ain't shit. It's all in yer damn head. In reality....oh boy..in reality, yer a broke down old man....and a small one at that....lookin like gahddsmn clown on crack. The shit is up with that? You sposed ta be a rich sumbitch but yer lookin like yer lookin fer yer next hit. Suck some dick fer some crack? Or make yer bitch do it? She know yer a clown faced crack head? I'm bettin she don’t. I'm bettin you keep a whole hell of alot from that woman... LIke how yer a sumbitchin coward and all that mess"
Things were getting even hotter and heavier behind him. The girl now had her hand in the guys pants.
"Y'know...Ya look familiar. Ya look like that sumbitch from that brokeback mountain movie. Now, I stay away from that kinda mess, but I did see the previews...And you should be damnit be ashamed....Only you got makeup on. I got it..I'm gonna call you brokeback cause you look like that sumbitch
Why so serious? Cause somebody just went balls deep in ya, brokeback? And since yer gonna be called brokeback, I reckon we can go ahread and name yer little team Brotherhood of the Brokedick Mountain. Cause we got Brokeback Mountain in Geminia...and then the brotherhood of the brokedick plague. I like it. I can see that mess right now. Announcer in the rang.. "Coming to the ring, being followed by some bitch on crack The Brotherhood of the brokedick Mountain!" And the crowd boos their asses off cause Gemini is a sumbitchin coward, Bishop is just borin as all hell and Lester looks like a kid toucher. And then yall come on down to that damn rang and we put boots to asses. Yall lose, Bishop quits again cause that sumbitch refuses ta be pinned by the greatest sumbitchin stable wssf has ever damn seen and ZT continues it's run of dominance..Not even the world champ can stop us. That mess seem about right.
Now...dont forget their fearless leader...or should I say fearFULL leader The Plaque...Kevin Bishop. Now..I know yer sumbitchin name aint the Plaque. I might be a damn redneck, hillbilly, mountain man, whatever the hell you wanna call my ass this week... But I know a hobo when I see one... and You look like the dirtiest sumbitchin hobo in the streets. That’s why I call yer ass the Plaque.. Cause yer teeth are all yellow...and Yer so damn dirty ya look black. Hell son...When ya smile, ya look like a Steelers helmet. Hell I'd rather give you a damn bath rather than whoop yer ass. Is that why yer wife dont give ya none? Yea..I heard Crazy J say that yer ole lady lets Lester the molester bang her and makes you watch. Prolly cause yer so damn dirty, huh? I reckon she done had it with them damn yeast infections yer ass been givin her all these years. You ole nasty ass sumbitch. Oughta be ashamed of yerself.
How bout ya just quit the rasslin biz and just go be a Walmart greeter. Of course you'd have ta trim that beard a little bit. Maybe bathe atleast once a sumbitchin week. I be you could find all kinda sumbitches what can join yer brotherhood of the fuck my wife.
Now what I don’t get is this mess. Last week ya went round sayin ya refuse ta lose to Zero Tolerance. Ya tried hypin up yer teammates. Told em what I just said. Toldem they'd better damn it fight hard cause you aint about ta damn lose. And what happened? Ya turned chickenshit, humped Baron a little bit and ran off like a bitch. You aint gone do that mess this time...Are ya.
And since ya ran off like a punk last week, I gotta question how you even have followers? Do ya really just let em hump yer wife? Is that why they round? That why they follow ya? It cant be yer leadership skills. Leaders don’t damn it talk mess and then run away when they realize that they got their ass in way over their heads. Real leaders aint cowards like 'at. Or maybe ya just cater to the lower common denominator. Ya offer up yer ole lady's body, they follow ya, but they aint never gone drank that koolaide ya got. They should..but they prolly aint gone do it. Eventually, they just gone leave yer dirty, hobo lookin ass.
All yer ass had last week was my camera work... Which is perty damn good if I must say so myself"
An old lady had walked up on the couple and was, at that moment, bitching the both of them out. She was swinging her walker at them as they tried to get away. We didnt see Cash's face at all.
"What ya got this week? Soap? That'd be a damn start. A sense of humor" That'd be a plus. Have ya decided not ta be borin as hell? That'd be about the best damn than you could do. Cause yer...borin as hell. Talkin all monotone and mess. Half assin every damn thang. Last week ya no assed it. Ya saw that ya couldn’t sumbitchin win and ya high tailed it outa there. You gone atleast half ass it this time? I mean..Ya dont wanna let that fat bastard Lester the Molester down, do ya? I reckon not...
Speakin of the kid toucher. Can you even see yer dick, Lester? Gotta pick that big ole belly up ta take a piss, don’t ya? That yer workouts? Ya gotta curl that big ole belly ta even take a damn piss. But hell...gettin yer fat ass of the couch is half the battle, aint it? I guess what I'm tryin ta damn say is yer fat as hell. I want ya to know that we didnt steal yer twinkies... That was Bishop. He stole them submitches while you was lookin fer yer dick cause Karma wanted some. Hell I don’t wanna give you an ass whoopin...I wanna give you a sumbitchin carrot.
Now I'm gone admit..I aint ever seen you in the rang. Watchin a fat bastard try ta fight just don’t interest me... But I did look at yer bio....And when I saw that picture...I thought I was watching dateline...You know.. That to catch a predator show? Sumbitch looks like screen shot from a preview. "ON the next to catch a predator...This fat bastard".
And what in the actual shit was that mess you aired ealier this week? I don’t seen a whole hell of a lot of weird mess...But I aint never in my life seen somethin like that. The hell was you doin? Some kinda seance ta get the easter bunny ta brang yer ass some chocolate? Hell I'll brang you something ta eat if yer hungry, son. Aint no reason ta go all weird as shit. Ya could just be tryin ta be some kinda Jesus. Now...I could be wrong as hell..but I dont thank Jesus was a kid toucher lookin sumbitch with a puzzle mask on."
The old lady had ran the young couple off. She noticed Jason's camera and started walking over.
"The three of yall are in fer a rude awakenin if yall thank yall gone beat the greatest stable of all time. We a fightin machine...Well oiled. Yall are a groupd of coward and a fat bastard. Gemini? Coward. Bishop? Coward and a hobo. Lester the Molester? Might just be too fat ta get in the sumbitchin rang. Yall better brang it..cause we are.
Owww! What the shit?!"
The old lady hit Jason over the head with her walker
Scene fades
