Post by jasoncash on Oct 15, 2016 18:41:09 GMT -5
Jason Cash sat there, under a cloudless sky. He was just beyond the tree line that overlooked his home. This was the place Darkness had been seen taking pictures of Jasons family. Darkness had been shot here, but not killed. There were drops of blood of course, but there was no body. Jason wondered how long Darkness had been doing this. He was worried. Jason never cared about his own well being. He was a very tough guy after all. He could handle himself. His family? They couldn't. They were his only weakness. And it was a major weakness. Jason wondereed why Darkness would target him. Jason had only met the man twice. Why now? After all these years? Why Jason?
Jason sat there, under that cloudy morning sky for what seemed like ages. Of course he was drinking. He was always drinking. Beer was like water to the man at this point. The back door to his house opened. Out ran their massive English mastiff with his spiked collar. Jason's daughter Zoey was right behind him, still in her pink paw patrol nightgown with her messy brown hair blowing in the wind. She was Jason's heart. She had our hillbilly hero wrapped around her pinky finger. And why couldn't she? Jason had always wanted to be a father. He loved that girl with his entire being.
"Zoey! Breakfast!", came the voice of Jason's wife Nicole. Zoey stopped chasing the dog and looked to the door, her big blue eyes shining even in this dim, cloudy light. She ran back in.
Jason's vision changed. He slowly watched as the cloudy sky turned red. He saw a black sun hanging in the sky, being crossed by a massive winged figure. Our hillbilly hero took a drink of his beer. He looked at it, stared at it, wondered just what the hell might be in the bottle.
"Jason.", came a voice too deep to come from any mortal. It was bellowing. It was a voice only heard in nightmares. Jason looked to his right. The tree line was gone. Well..mostly. Instead of the big oaks, there were black trees. No leaves hung from these trees. They appeared to be alive, moaning and swaying in the nearly searing breeze. Where there was was once lush green grass, was now hot dirt. What little grass there was, was yellow and during. This was a place of death and decay. It was a place of nightmares
"Jason", came the voice again. The hairs on Jason's arms and the back of his neck began to stand on end.
"The hell yer ass brang me here? I was watchin my daughter.", Jason said, still staring straight ahead. "Fear. I can taste it in the air.", came the voice again.
Sin half floated, half walked from behind one of those trees. He held his head low, his black hair falling over his white face. Even though his hair was in his face, a sort of smile crossed his face. "You are afraid. I can...taste it...Hmmm...So sweet.", Sin said in a mocking tone. Jason was not afraid of Sin. He should have been, but he wasn't. Jason knew what the physical embodiment of sin and fear was capable of. He did not fear it.
"Yer ass knows good an damn well..I aint scared of shit.", Jason answered. "Specially you.", he added. Jason looked to his right. Sin was gone. And then he felt the shock. Sin knelt next to Jason on his left. Sin's eyes seemed to swirl in a milky white color.
"Darkness has rattled you.", Sin said. Jason nodded in agreement. "Im gone kill that sumbitch myself.", Jason said as flatly as we've ever heard him. "It will be a challenge. Darkness is a dangerous man. I sense no fear emanating from him.", Sin said in his booming voice. Jason thought as much. Most men feared Zero Tolerance and what they were. Darkness, who was once part of that, did not.
"Cut the shit, Sin. Whyd yer ass brang me here?", Jason asked again. Sin stood up and sniffed the air. She stuck his tongue out. He squealed with delight. "Hmmm..The sweet taste of fear. Your opponents are afraid, Jason. Flash, Price, Sanchez.", Sin said. Jason laughed to himself. "They scared, huh?", Jason asked. Sin eyed our hillbilly hero, making him quite uncomfortable. "They fear being lost to history. They fear being forgotten. They fear...their legacies will not be enough. That they will be forgotten. Their fear...Its everywhere. I can taste in the air. Fear is great with them.", Sin replied. Jason thought for a moment. "You know what? I thank you bout right. Them boys come off like they pussies. I reckon they is scared they gone be forgotten. They asses sure seem like it.", Jason said as he took a drink.
He blinked and Sin was gone. He was back sitting under that old oak tree in the tree line that over looked his backyard. He was happy to be back. He didn't like Sin's Black Garden. It was hot. It smelled like death. It was creepy and made his skin crawl. Jason looked to his large backyard. Zoey was inside eating breakfast. The massive dog was gone as well. He looked to his phone.
"Shit! Im late."
.....two hours later....
Jason Cash sat in Erik Black's office, his feet propped up on the large mohogany desk.
Erik's office was at the very tippy top of ZT Tower in Detroit. It was a massive building that stretched to the sky. Zero Tolerance had sky scrapers is Detroit, New York, Houston, Miami and Los Angeles. This was the original. Erik had it built years ago when ZT began to corner security markets. They provided personal security for celebs at concert tours and trips over seas. The company had grown to cyber security, wrestling and MNA schools, land development, and other..rather illegal things.
The office was all white, save for the desk. The marvel flooring was white. The walls were white. One wall held the various wrestling titles Erik and the rest of ZT had won over the years. That wall was full of gold as they had been dominant for over ten years. The other wall was a shark tank. The thing was massive and a bull shark swam in circles.
Jason sat there, feet and beer bottles on the desk. Erik hated when anyone put their feet on his desk, save for himself of course. Jason knew this. And while he never really meant to piss anyone off, he just didnt know when he did it. Blame it on what you will, alcohol, not paying attention, etc...It doesn't really matter.
The two huge doors that led into Erik Blacks office slowly opened. Erik walked in. He wore a black suit. His black hair was brushed straight back, and his icy blue eyes that appeared to pierce your soul eyed Jason's feet.
"Move."
Jason looked up. He never heard the doors open. His mind was elsewhere. "aight.", Jason said with a grin. He'd gotten mud on the desk. Erik was not happy, but it didn't show. Erik was always very calm. Jason grabbed his beer and took a long drink as Erik sat down in his chair. "I take it there was no body.", Erik said calmly. Jason shook his head. "Sumbitch got hit. There's blood..but thats about it. I tracked his ass to the road back 'ere. Didnt see nothin else.", Jason answered. Erik got up and began to stare out of the window at the people walking below.
"That's what Rex said. He found no body. No tire marks either."
Jason stopped at the mini fridge in the corner. He looked back at Erik. "Im gone kill that sumbitch myself.", Jason said with a frown. "Nobody messes with my people. I dont give a damn what happens ta me. That sumbitch messin with my people.", Jason said. He got himself a beer, popped the top, and sat back down.
Erik thought as much. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. He was sure he could cover it up. He always had. But could he this time? He'd thought Darkness was gone...He thought he'd killed the monstrous man. Things weren't always so cut and dry.
"We'll find him, Jason.", Erik said, trying to assure our hillbilly hero. Jason nodded. He knew Erik was trying his best. "Yo ass better find his ass 'fore I do..Cause Im gone cut that sumbitches balls off an shove em down 'is throat.", Jason said as he took a drink of his beer. Jason, in fact, turned that beer up and threw the bottle against the wall. Glass shattered. Jason turned to leave.
"Where are you going?"
"Huntin."
...Later that night...
Music blared through the club. Tho was club Mystic. It wasn't exactly the kind of place Jason ever visited. Hell it was the type of place he kept away from. These were definitely not his people.
The light were very dim. The only real light came from the people dancing with the neon glow sticks. Techno music blasted at an ear shattering volume. Jason hated techno. He didn't even consider it music. He thought music could only be made using actual instruments and not some nerd with a computer program. Men grinded on men. Women on women. Yes, club mystic was a gay club. Normally Jason wouldn't come to a place like this, but he was hunting. And a good hunter always checked the stomping grounds of his prey. Jason was a good hunter. Always had been.
He walked to the bar and took a seat. The bartender who was a rather beautiful woman with long blonde hair walked up to take his order. "What can get you?", she asked. "Beer. Lots of beer.", Jason answered. She nodded and came back a few seconds later with a pitcher. "Start a tab.", Jason said. Again, she nodded. "You don't look like the type who generally comes here.", she said to our hillbilly hero. Jason nodded. "You sumbitchin right. This here aint my kinda place.", Jason said before taking a drink straight from the pitcher. "Im huntin...", he added. The bartender cocked an eyebrow. Jason caught on. "Im lookin fer Joey Flash. That feller loves what his ass calls fuccbois. I don't damn it know what that mess is, but I reckon I'd find it up in here.", Jason said with a laugh. The bartender? She didnt fund it funny at all. She really didnt want to keep waiting on Jason. "Yer ass know a Joey Flash? He a rassler.", Jason said before taking another drink. The bartender shook her head. "Never heard of him, but if he's been in here, Im sure some one does.", she said. Jason nodded. "I reckon that's his sumbitchin problem. That sumbitch scared folks gone ferget his ass.", Jason told her as she went to wait on another customer. It wasn't long before Jason was found by a gentleman with short blonde hair. This man wore tight jeans with the words "Please" written on the ass, and a neon green shirt.
"What are ya drinking, cowboy?"
Jason looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Beer. Why?", Jason asked. The man grinned. "Cause Id like to buy you a drink.", the man said. Jason shook his head. "Naw uh uh. My ass gots everything my ass needs.", Jason said. And that's when it hit him. This must be a fuccboi. Jason took a long drink of his beer. "Yer ass looks like a fuccboi. You know a Joey Flash? This here looks like his kinda place.",Jason said. His unwanted guest was appalled. "Fuccboi? Listen here you fucking redneck.", The guest started to say. Jason could really only laugh. "Don get yer panties in a wad. You know that sumbitch er not? Cause if ya dont, I'd appreciate it if ya let me alone. My ass is only in this sumbitch sos I can find Flash an whoop 'is ass.", Jason answered. His guest shook his head in disgust and walked away
"Jason Cash!", came a yell from his left. Jason looked over. And ther, in all his gayness, was Crispin...Adrian Archer's designer. Jason laughed out loud. "I knew I'd find you here.", Crispin said with delight. Jason damn near spit out his beer. "What in the sumbitchin hell that spossed ta mean?", Jason asked. Crispin grinned a wide grin. "I knew you were just playing hard to get yesterday.", Crispin smiled. This time Jason actually spit out his beer, which was a bit of a waste. "I dont know what yer ass means by 'at mess, but ai dont damn it like it.", Jason frowned. Crispin didnt, however. He sat down next to Jason. "I forgive you for what you said.", Crispin said as he got a little too close for Jason's liking. "Look here, sumbitch...I dont damn it know what in the hell yer ass is thankin, but yer two gauhd damn seconds from gettin a boot up yer ass.", Jason threatened. Crispins eyes glittered. "Dont tease me, cowboy.", Crispin said to our hillbilly hero. Jason did a double take. "Whoa now.", Jason laughed. "Dont damn it go there.", Jason added. And then it hit him again. Crispin had to be a fuccboi. "Im lookin fer Joey Flash. His ass loves what he calls fuccbois. Yer ass looks like 'is type. You one of them fuccbois?", Jason asked. Crispin slid a little closer. "I can be what ever you want me to be.", Crispin answered. Jason shook his head. He liked this type of thing from women, but men? Nah. "You know that sumbitch er not?", Jason asked. Crispin shook his head. "I've heard of him, but I don't come around here any. Im from LA.", Crispin answered. "Well I reckon yer ass can't damn it help me.", Jason said as he finished his beer. He slammed the pitcher on the bar and got up.
"Joey Flash! Yo ass in here?", Cash yelled as loud as he could. The music stopped. People stopped dancing. They stared at our hillbilly hero. "Bout damn time yall turned 'at mess off.", Jason started. "Im lookin fer a feller by the name of Joey Flash. He loves what he calls fuccbois. Yall look like yall fit the sumbitchin description. Yall seen that sumbitch?", Jason added. He stared. They all stared.
"Get that sexy redneck out of here!"
Jason looked in the direction the voice came from. "Joey Flash. 'at you?", He yelled back. Crispin shook his head. Jason rolled his eyes. It was Crispin who had yelled. "I reckon that sumbitch ain't here tonight. Yall tell 'at sumbitch Im lookin fer 'im.", Jason said. He turned around and layed a one hundred dollar bill on the bar.
..The next morning...
The sun was shining bright on this wonderful Michigan morning. Jason had set up his handicam on a box that sat outside of the local home depot. Jason looked dressed for success in his ZT shirt, jeans and boots. He stood just outside the entrance door. He held a rather large white sign. He turned to the camera and pointed. The sign read. "Help Wanted. Wetback prefered". Jason had a huge smile across his face, but he was getting nasty looks from the people walking in. One man, who was a bit younger than Jason stopped. He looked at the sign. "Are you serious?", the young man asked. Jason nodded. "Hell son. My ass is always serious. I need some help fixin up my trailer. I heard them wetbacks hang round here lookin fer work.", Jason said. The young man, who didnt look a day over twenty two shook his head. "You know that the term wetback is a racial slur, right?", he asked. Jason shrugged. "I aint no racist if 'ats what yer tryin ta damn it say. My ass hates every damn body equaly. It done make a damn If yer white, yeller..pink..red. I dont give two shits.", Jason said. The young man sighed to himself and started to walk into home depot, when Jason stopped him. "Hey now. I saw that mess.", Jason started. "Would it be better if this sumbitch said wetbacks lives matter? Cause wetbacks is real, son. They'd real!", Jason added. The man rolled his eyes and walked inside
And so Jason waited. More people passed by. And each of them looked at him dirty..save for one old man. This old man gave Jason a high five and a thumbs up to the camera. Jason didnt know what to think. He just figured the old man was racist. Jason didnt like racist people one bit. And he stood there a little longer. A man with a nice tan came up to Jason. He wore a blue polo shirt, khakis, and had black, slicked back hair. He did not take kindly to the sign at all. "What the fuck is this?", He asked. Jason shrugged. "Just lookin ta get some work did on my trailer. I hear them wetbacks do good work fer cheap.", Jason answered. The gentleman looked as if he were about to explode. "The fuck you say?", he asked, stepping up to Jason in a threatening manner. Jason just grinned. "I really gotta repeat myself?", Jason asked. "That shit is racist.", the tan guy said. Jason sighed. "I aint no damn racist. Why every damn body thank 'at mess. My ass hates everybody.", Jason answered. The man, who was obviously Mexican, still stared at our hero. "Here's the thang. My ass an my buddies gotta fight an ole wetback by the name of David Sanchez. His ass been talkin shit on the twatter.", Jason said.
"So what?"
"So what? Hell son. You stupid er somethin? I know them wetbacks come to the home depot lookin fer work. Figured Id catch his border jumpin ass an shove my foot up 'is ass here. Welcome that sumbitch back ta wsssf right.", Jason explain. One could damn near see fire coming from his Mexican guests ears. Jason noticed, and always looking for a fight, continued. "You know that sumbitch? Where can I find his ass? I know yall sumbitches be livin thirty to a damn house.", Jason laughed. Now..funny thing about Jason's jokes..No one else seems to ever laugh. This man didn't. What did he do? Why he tried to rip Jason's sign of course? It didn't work, however, and the man ran away.
"You tell 'at sumbitch Im lookin fer 'is ass!"
Jason shrugged to the camera. "I reckon his ass though ice was comin.", Jason laughed. He stood there for a while longer, not getting any attention. No one really looked at his sign, so he started yelling. "Wetback Wanted!" Over and over again, and it wasn't long before he was approached by a group of men. They were dressed nicely and appeared to be of Latin decent.
"Yalk know David Sanchez?", Jason asked, not really noticing that he was being surrounded by the three men. "What's with the sign", the shorter one with the white t-shirt asked. Jason sighed. "Well..Im lookin fer David Sanchez. 'Is ass been talkin shit. Yall know how 'at mess is. Anyway..I heard them wetbacks get together at the home depot lookin fer work. Figured Id catch 'is ass here.", Jason said, tired of having to explain himself. "You're that wrestler, right? I hope David Sanchez whoop you guys asses.", the same man said. His two friends nodded in agreement. Jason damn near doubled over laughing. "Them sumbitchesed have better luck pickin up a turd from the clean end.", Jason said. "I know you know that sumbitch. Where is he?", Jason asked. The man didn't back down. "I wouldn't tell you if I did.", he said. Cash grinned. "Yall wetback together, huh?", Jason said with a big ole grin. At this point, they could really only leave. And they did. Jason smiled to his camera and shrugged. "Maybe them sumbitches done started goin ta Lowes.?, Jason smiled. He threw his sign on the ground, grabbed his handicam, and walked away.
...The next afternoon....
Everyone has probably been to an Aldis. If you haven't, then good for you. You're missing out on narrow ailses, old people who like to NOT move out of the fucking way..and cheap shit that you don't need or want... But also they have food. Of course I wouldn't advise eating any of it. It's cheap..and ok..just like the people that shop there.
It was mid afternoon when our hillbilly hero stumbled into this particular Aldis. The place was packed. It looked like it was food stamp day. There were people wall to wall..mostly old people and the dregs of society. Jason didnt pay to get a cart. He wouldnt have been able to steer it anyway. He wasn't here to shop. Even our hillbilly hero stayed away from Aldis. No.he was here to...
"Jayson Price!"
That's right. Jason Cash was at the home of cheap prices looking for one Jayson Price. Would be find him?
Jason was standing at the door when he'd yelled. Most of the people there stopped to look at him. And he yelled again. "Jayson Price! Yer ass home?".
People started to shop again but still kept a side eye on our hillbilly hero. Jason stumbled down the first aisle. It was chock full of any kind of chip you'd want. BBQ, cheddar, salt and vinegar. They were all there. Jason had just knocked over a display of BBQ chips, when a young Aldis worker came over to investigate. The worker was a young brown haired woman. She was over weight and not particularly attractive.
"Can I help you?"
Jason looked at her. His eyes were kind of glazed over. He was very drunk. He smelled of moonshine and beef jerky. What's tho sumbitchin place called again?", he asked. She smiled. "Why this I Aldis. The home of cheap prices of course.", She answered. Jason's eyes lit up. "Cheap prices, huh? Well I reckon my ass is in the right sumbitchin place then.", he told her, swaying back and forth. The kindly lady eyed him for a moment. "Can I help you find anything?", she asked. Cash nodded immediately. "It's be a big ole help if you could tell me if aJayson is home?", he asked. She cocked an eye brow. "Jayson?", she asked. Cash nodded. "Yup. Is that sumbitch home? Jayson Price. Where his ass at?", Cash asked. The employee giggled. "There's no Jayson Price here that I know of.", she said with a giggle. " How in the hell is this prices house an you in it..and don't damn know if 'is ass damn it lives here?", Jason asked. His helper was in shock. She didnt know what to say. She was speechless. And why wouldn't she be. Here was a very drunk man asking her if someone lived there. Part of her wanted to call the police..but she didnt want them to kill Cash, so she decided against it.
"I'll damn it find 'at sumbitch myself.", Jason said to her before stumbling further down the aisle. He was lookin side to did when he saw it. Jaf Peanutbutter. Price? A buck oh nine. Jason howled. "I found you, you cock sucker!", he yelled, cause the shoppers to stop again. He picked up the jar and laughed to himself. "Whatchu gone do now, boy?.", he said to the jar. "Yo ass mighta been big shit in wsssf 'fore ZT came round..but now? The price is wrong, bitch!", our hillbilly hero said before slamming the jar on the floor. Glass shattered everywhere. People stared in shock.
"Excuse me, sir. You can't do that!"
Jason looked over to see that same woman who had tried to help him before. "Yer asss tried ta damn it hide 'is ass! Ya can't sumbitchin save 'im.", Jason replied. He looked on the shelf and saw more jars. His eyes got wide. "That sumbitch got the Jew magic!", he added. He grabbed two more jars. "I told you, you ignorant sumbitch! The price is wrong!", he said. And then he threw those jars on the floor. And the others also wound up shattered all over the floor. "You're going to have to pay for those.", the slightly over weight woman said. Jason just laughed at her. "Naw uh uh. My ass gets paid ta whoop Jayon Prices ass. Kt aint the other way around. Hell naw.", our hillbilly hero said to the woman. "Sir, those were jars of Jaf Peanutbutter. They weren't Jayson Price or whoever you thought they were.", she told him. Cash stood there. "You ole liein bitch. You still takin up fer 'at clown.", Cash replied. "Sir, Im going to have to ask you to leave.", she said. Cash smiled and winked at her. "Yall hidin his ass, huh? Alright. You tell 'at sumbitch my ass'll be waiting fer HIS ass when he comes outside.", Jason said. He made sure to step over the glass. He muttered, "Fuckin Jew magic." As he did so.
He waited outside for what seemed to him..like hours. In reality, it was only about fifteen minutes. He got bored and left.
...Later that evening.....
Our hillbilly hero sat in his deer stand, which sat about ten feet up. It was a simple wooden platform that was nailed to a large oak tree.
"Well what in the shit do ya know? Huh? New Trios champions. Told yall we was gone walk off wit it. Told yall this whole damn time 'at we was the baddest sumbitches what ever walked through them doors. The baddest. Yall keep on sayin nope. Yall keep on doubt in 'at mess. And what keeps on happenin? We keep on keepin on. We keep on beatin the ever lovin shit outa whoever the poor sumbitch Seth puts in our way. Now? Hell now we all champions. We done did what we said we was gone do. All of Zero Tolerance gots a sumbitchin belt. But now we spossed ta be shittin in our britches cause Panteen is round? They sayin they stronger than us an what not..Cause I reckon they asses used ta damn it be big shit round wssf. Hell..They time done passed. They done had it. Hell they had it 'fore we came round...An if we was round back then? Them sumbitches woulda been whole sale ass whooped just like the rest of wsssf."
He drank some beer, spit some Skoal, and snapped into a slim jim.
"Now..My ass likes ta watch them promos. An I gotta damn it ask....Yall really a team? Cause six dicks in 'is mouth dont really come off like yall a real team. He talkin bout whoopin EVERYBODY. His ass actin like the rest of yall aint shit. Kinda makes my ass question Panteen as a team. Yall really thank y'all's asses gone whoop us..an yall aint even a team? Shiiiiit. But his ass gone get whooped by us eventually. This week though..We got Mr Super Saiyan his self... A dirty border hoppin wetback...An a Price checker. What a sumbitchin team. One of em thanks he the greatest of all time. Wonder how 'at mess works with the rest of Panteen. They all thank they the greatest ever. Corey Black...who is one hell of a damn fight thanks his ass is. Flash thanks his ass is. Six dicks in his sumbitchin jaws thanks his ass is. And Price thanks his ass is. Can't all yall be the best ever. Yall know 'at mess, right? Yer ass don't damn hear us sayin 'at mess. We a damn team. No one sumbitch more important than the other sumbitch. Ha! Y'all's asses fallen apart an yall aint even went against the most dominant team wssf ever damn it saw! Hell we aint even gotta whoop y'all's asses. Yall gone damn it whoop y'all's own asses. An 'ats a damn shame. Yall gone have ta be a team if yall wanna hang with what we got..What we are.
Like Joey Flash. I look at you..And I see a sumbitch what done won a whole helluva lot more than he done lost. Sumbitch is cocky as all hell. Now..I aint one ta say an ole sumbitch shouldn't be cocky. Hell...If ya thank ya got it..Let sumbitches know it. But I gotta say....Yer ass ain't never went up against sumbitches like us. We all brang somethin different to a fight. J is a fuckin mad man. 'At sumbitch is damn it crazy. He one of them sumbitch what'll cut yer arm off an beat ya with it. Hell that sumbitch might cut his own off if he thanks it'd hurt ya! He crazy as hell. At? At is a sumbitch was gets thangs technical. His ass always got some weird rasslin move what gone make yer insides yer outsides. Me? Well hell son...I just like ta damn it fight. Better the fight, the better my ass I in that fight. More my ass gets hit, the more excited bout that fight I get. More excited I get.....the more dangerous my ass is. Yall? Hell yall got a sumbitch what can hit hard. A wetback...an a sumbitch more worried bout 'is dick than the fight. It kinda makes my ass crack up. Yalk dont brang a damn thang but mouth to this sumbitchin fight. The hell yall gone do? Talk us to death? That aint worth a damn. We'll just kick yall in the balls an bitch slap the shit out of ya. Im talkin actual shit in yer britches from all the gettin slapped yall gone do."
Jason started laughing. At what? Who the hell knows.
"Hell I reckon I better watch out. My ass might misspell somethin Im actually sayin, right, Flash? Cause some how 'at mess matters. Some how 'at sumbitch damn comes at ya fer spellin mess yer sayin. Flash is a funny sumbitch.. My quest though is this one..Why come back, huh? I mean..we all spossed ta be beneath ya. Why come back? Yer ass don like fightin? Or was yo ass the low man on the totem poll where ever it was you was at 'fore ya came back to wssf? Or maybe...just maybe yer scared peoples asses gone ferget ya. You scared them fans out there gone ferget ya? Hmmm? Hell y'all's asses post on the twatter an talk enough. Always gotta let them sumbitches know yer still here. It's a dsmn shame. Damn shame. Sad as all hell..all of ya. Yall talk more than ya fight. Me? My ass dont talk much. Ya wont here me talkin bout how Im better than anybody else. Why? Cause my ass stumbles into that rang every eweek..an whoops wholesale ass. I dont damn it have ta say "Im better'n you!". Nope...I just whoop that ass an go drank more beer. Cause thats what my ass does. Yall? Hell yall talk..an talk...an talk...an talk. Not a whole helluv alot of fightin comin from yall. Hell...Holmes..er six dicks in 'is ass knows it. You know that sumbitch is tryin ta run in on the match an help y'all's asses put, right Joey? He dont damn it thank yall can get shit done. One of yer own thanks he gone have to help yall, Flash. Aint that a bitch? When yer boy dont even believe in ya? Now that's a shame an a half right there. It really is, Joe. I gotta tell ya. That aint how we do things in ZT. Hell naw. We believe in each other. We a family..a team. Yall just a bunch of sumbitchin egos. Huge ass egos dont damn it work too good together. Shit usually goes down hill with the quickness. It's perty funny actually. Either way, Joe. Yer ass gone be on the losin end at slam. Ya got too much bitch in ya. Dont worry..We gone beat it out of ya."
He froze when he heard a noise coming from the bushes. He waited. Out scampered a squirl.
" An dont you thank fer one itty bitty second, I forgot bout yer ass, Sanchez..You sumbitchin wetback. Yea..you a wetback. Dont matter if yer Mexican...burritocan...beanercan..colombian...You still a border hoppin wetback. An shit..I know you was raise out in California somewhere. Yer ass didn't damn it hop that border herself. Yer beaner parents did 'at mess too. Im just tryin ta figure out why you was never deported. You blowin the dudes over at ICE? Cause wetbacks like yer self usually get sent back cross that sumbitchin border. But what in the shit do I know, huh? Im just a racist hillbilly fuccboi who humps his sistermomawife, right? Cause that's what yee ass thanks. Am I? Shit naw. An my ass has more money in the bank than that city yer the mayor of.. What was it? Chimichongo chilli town? That bout sounds like it. Err body livin in straw huts..drankin they own piss an eatin dirt. Congrats, Sanchize. You the mayor of the tent city the brotherhood lives in. You da man, son! Except you aint. Watchin yall is like watchin teen titans go. Jared tryin ta do shit an yall makin fools f y'all's self. Specially you, wetback Willy. A wetback will I a wetback what has an American soundin name..like David. You a wetback Willy, Sanchize.
Now I know you was a cage fighter many moons ago. What happened with 'at? You get tired of bein fed yer own ass? Ya know that shit aint changin no time soon, right? Got that ass whooped then...an now? Hell now you gone get that ass whooped by the dominant group of sumbitches wssf ever damn it saw. That's be ZT in case you were wonderin. I'd say you aint got no chance, but I don't thank youd understand me...Bein that yer ass prolly don't damn it talk the English. You gone GIT yer ass whooped.
Hell...why Seth even sign yer ass up anyway? Everybody knows a wetback is only good fer one thang.. Catchin chickens. That's all yall sumbitches good fer. Yall catch a damn chicken like it ain't shit. Dont matter...cause we gone make ya wish ya never dug that sumbitchin hole an climbed under the fence."
Jason watched as the squirl ate an acorn. Then...he shot it.
"Then there was Jayson Price. The sumbitch what done held every singles belt wssf ever damn it had. I wonder what him an flash talk about. Flash got the WIn an loss record. Price done held every belt twice. Perty damn sure they just gone fight over who really the greatest is. I'd say neither one of em...But that's just me..
Now this sumbitc checked his self into rehab cause he got some kinda problem with beatin his self off. Then figured..What the shit? I dont damn it have a masturbation problem! Just ran outa jergins is all! So ya check right the hell back out an welp..Here yer ass is... Follering six dicks up 'is ass like you was his puppy dog bitch. Sound about right? I damn it thought so. Hell yer ass shoulda stayed in rehab, son. Lot less ass whoopins gone come to ya in rehab. Yer ass ain't got worry about Zero Tolerance feedin you yer own ass if you was in rehab. But ya decided that you didn't wanna be ther no more...An now you well on yer way to gettin that ass handed to ya. I'd say its a damn shame, but it ain't. Just shows yer stupid as shit.
Hell I aint gone say ya can't fight. Obviously ya can. Yer ass never would have grabbed all them belts if yer ass couldn't fight. Naw...You can fight. But...and there's always a but, right? BUT yer ass can't fight good Enough ta hang with sumbitches like us. Sumbitches what dream of fightin. Hell I eat nails an shit glass. Fact of the matter is 'at yer ass ain't never fought sumbitches like us.... An yer in fer arude ass awakening when ya get in that sumbitchin rang too. Cause we gone put boots ta asses.
Why the hell yall all over the twatter. Self promotin? Gotta get that name out, right? Wedont gotta do that mess. Naw..See..when yer the baddest group of sumbitches wsssf ever done seen.....Everybody knows who ya are. They know when yer next match is. Them sumbitches out there know everything already. We don't damn it need to flood the interwebz with stupid shit like y'all's asses do. Yall let her finger tips an mouths do the talkin. ZT? Hell we just beat the holy hell out of everybody. That's the difference 'tween usan yall. Yall former champions what don't do a damnnthang but talk. We current champions who dont do a damn thang but whoop wholesale ass. That's a perty big difference. That mess means that yall...Yall are all show...but We all go fellas. That's bad fer yall..great fer us. Cause it means we gone whoop that ass. Yall gone get that ass whooped..then crawl back to wherever in the hell it is yall came from. Then our asses can go back to owning the shit out of the roster like we was doin before. See yall at slam. .but before I go..I want yall to remember somethin. Yall fuckin suck...an ZT is yer daddy."
Jason climbed down. He grabbed the squirrel. And walked through the trees
Jason sat there, under that cloudy morning sky for what seemed like ages. Of course he was drinking. He was always drinking. Beer was like water to the man at this point. The back door to his house opened. Out ran their massive English mastiff with his spiked collar. Jason's daughter Zoey was right behind him, still in her pink paw patrol nightgown with her messy brown hair blowing in the wind. She was Jason's heart. She had our hillbilly hero wrapped around her pinky finger. And why couldn't she? Jason had always wanted to be a father. He loved that girl with his entire being.
"Zoey! Breakfast!", came the voice of Jason's wife Nicole. Zoey stopped chasing the dog and looked to the door, her big blue eyes shining even in this dim, cloudy light. She ran back in.
Jason's vision changed. He slowly watched as the cloudy sky turned red. He saw a black sun hanging in the sky, being crossed by a massive winged figure. Our hillbilly hero took a drink of his beer. He looked at it, stared at it, wondered just what the hell might be in the bottle.
"Jason.", came a voice too deep to come from any mortal. It was bellowing. It was a voice only heard in nightmares. Jason looked to his right. The tree line was gone. Well..mostly. Instead of the big oaks, there were black trees. No leaves hung from these trees. They appeared to be alive, moaning and swaying in the nearly searing breeze. Where there was was once lush green grass, was now hot dirt. What little grass there was, was yellow and during. This was a place of death and decay. It was a place of nightmares
"Jason", came the voice again. The hairs on Jason's arms and the back of his neck began to stand on end.
"The hell yer ass brang me here? I was watchin my daughter.", Jason said, still staring straight ahead. "Fear. I can taste it in the air.", came the voice again.
Sin half floated, half walked from behind one of those trees. He held his head low, his black hair falling over his white face. Even though his hair was in his face, a sort of smile crossed his face. "You are afraid. I can...taste it...Hmmm...So sweet.", Sin said in a mocking tone. Jason was not afraid of Sin. He should have been, but he wasn't. Jason knew what the physical embodiment of sin and fear was capable of. He did not fear it.
"Yer ass knows good an damn well..I aint scared of shit.", Jason answered. "Specially you.", he added. Jason looked to his right. Sin was gone. And then he felt the shock. Sin knelt next to Jason on his left. Sin's eyes seemed to swirl in a milky white color.
"Darkness has rattled you.", Sin said. Jason nodded in agreement. "Im gone kill that sumbitch myself.", Jason said as flatly as we've ever heard him. "It will be a challenge. Darkness is a dangerous man. I sense no fear emanating from him.", Sin said in his booming voice. Jason thought as much. Most men feared Zero Tolerance and what they were. Darkness, who was once part of that, did not.
"Cut the shit, Sin. Whyd yer ass brang me here?", Jason asked again. Sin stood up and sniffed the air. She stuck his tongue out. He squealed with delight. "Hmmm..The sweet taste of fear. Your opponents are afraid, Jason. Flash, Price, Sanchez.", Sin said. Jason laughed to himself. "They scared, huh?", Jason asked. Sin eyed our hillbilly hero, making him quite uncomfortable. "They fear being lost to history. They fear being forgotten. They fear...their legacies will not be enough. That they will be forgotten. Their fear...Its everywhere. I can taste in the air. Fear is great with them.", Sin replied. Jason thought for a moment. "You know what? I thank you bout right. Them boys come off like they pussies. I reckon they is scared they gone be forgotten. They asses sure seem like it.", Jason said as he took a drink.
He blinked and Sin was gone. He was back sitting under that old oak tree in the tree line that over looked his backyard. He was happy to be back. He didn't like Sin's Black Garden. It was hot. It smelled like death. It was creepy and made his skin crawl. Jason looked to his large backyard. Zoey was inside eating breakfast. The massive dog was gone as well. He looked to his phone.
"Shit! Im late."
.....two hours later....
Jason Cash sat in Erik Black's office, his feet propped up on the large mohogany desk.
Erik's office was at the very tippy top of ZT Tower in Detroit. It was a massive building that stretched to the sky. Zero Tolerance had sky scrapers is Detroit, New York, Houston, Miami and Los Angeles. This was the original. Erik had it built years ago when ZT began to corner security markets. They provided personal security for celebs at concert tours and trips over seas. The company had grown to cyber security, wrestling and MNA schools, land development, and other..rather illegal things.
The office was all white, save for the desk. The marvel flooring was white. The walls were white. One wall held the various wrestling titles Erik and the rest of ZT had won over the years. That wall was full of gold as they had been dominant for over ten years. The other wall was a shark tank. The thing was massive and a bull shark swam in circles.
Jason sat there, feet and beer bottles on the desk. Erik hated when anyone put their feet on his desk, save for himself of course. Jason knew this. And while he never really meant to piss anyone off, he just didnt know when he did it. Blame it on what you will, alcohol, not paying attention, etc...It doesn't really matter.
The two huge doors that led into Erik Blacks office slowly opened. Erik walked in. He wore a black suit. His black hair was brushed straight back, and his icy blue eyes that appeared to pierce your soul eyed Jason's feet.
"Move."
Jason looked up. He never heard the doors open. His mind was elsewhere. "aight.", Jason said with a grin. He'd gotten mud on the desk. Erik was not happy, but it didn't show. Erik was always very calm. Jason grabbed his beer and took a long drink as Erik sat down in his chair. "I take it there was no body.", Erik said calmly. Jason shook his head. "Sumbitch got hit. There's blood..but thats about it. I tracked his ass to the road back 'ere. Didnt see nothin else.", Jason answered. Erik got up and began to stare out of the window at the people walking below.
"That's what Rex said. He found no body. No tire marks either."
Jason stopped at the mini fridge in the corner. He looked back at Erik. "Im gone kill that sumbitch myself.", Jason said with a frown. "Nobody messes with my people. I dont give a damn what happens ta me. That sumbitch messin with my people.", Jason said. He got himself a beer, popped the top, and sat back down.
Erik thought as much. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. He was sure he could cover it up. He always had. But could he this time? He'd thought Darkness was gone...He thought he'd killed the monstrous man. Things weren't always so cut and dry.
"We'll find him, Jason.", Erik said, trying to assure our hillbilly hero. Jason nodded. He knew Erik was trying his best. "Yo ass better find his ass 'fore I do..Cause Im gone cut that sumbitches balls off an shove em down 'is throat.", Jason said as he took a drink of his beer. Jason, in fact, turned that beer up and threw the bottle against the wall. Glass shattered. Jason turned to leave.
"Where are you going?"
"Huntin."
...Later that night...
Music blared through the club. Tho was club Mystic. It wasn't exactly the kind of place Jason ever visited. Hell it was the type of place he kept away from. These were definitely not his people.
The light were very dim. The only real light came from the people dancing with the neon glow sticks. Techno music blasted at an ear shattering volume. Jason hated techno. He didn't even consider it music. He thought music could only be made using actual instruments and not some nerd with a computer program. Men grinded on men. Women on women. Yes, club mystic was a gay club. Normally Jason wouldn't come to a place like this, but he was hunting. And a good hunter always checked the stomping grounds of his prey. Jason was a good hunter. Always had been.
He walked to the bar and took a seat. The bartender who was a rather beautiful woman with long blonde hair walked up to take his order. "What can get you?", she asked. "Beer. Lots of beer.", Jason answered. She nodded and came back a few seconds later with a pitcher. "Start a tab.", Jason said. Again, she nodded. "You don't look like the type who generally comes here.", she said to our hillbilly hero. Jason nodded. "You sumbitchin right. This here aint my kinda place.", Jason said before taking a drink straight from the pitcher. "Im huntin...", he added. The bartender cocked an eyebrow. Jason caught on. "Im lookin fer Joey Flash. That feller loves what his ass calls fuccbois. I don't damn it know what that mess is, but I reckon I'd find it up in here.", Jason said with a laugh. The bartender? She didnt fund it funny at all. She really didnt want to keep waiting on Jason. "Yer ass know a Joey Flash? He a rassler.", Jason said before taking another drink. The bartender shook her head. "Never heard of him, but if he's been in here, Im sure some one does.", she said. Jason nodded. "I reckon that's his sumbitchin problem. That sumbitch scared folks gone ferget his ass.", Jason told her as she went to wait on another customer. It wasn't long before Jason was found by a gentleman with short blonde hair. This man wore tight jeans with the words "Please" written on the ass, and a neon green shirt.
"What are ya drinking, cowboy?"
Jason looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Beer. Why?", Jason asked. The man grinned. "Cause Id like to buy you a drink.", the man said. Jason shook his head. "Naw uh uh. My ass gots everything my ass needs.", Jason said. And that's when it hit him. This must be a fuccboi. Jason took a long drink of his beer. "Yer ass looks like a fuccboi. You know a Joey Flash? This here looks like his kinda place.",Jason said. His unwanted guest was appalled. "Fuccboi? Listen here you fucking redneck.", The guest started to say. Jason could really only laugh. "Don get yer panties in a wad. You know that sumbitch er not? Cause if ya dont, I'd appreciate it if ya let me alone. My ass is only in this sumbitch sos I can find Flash an whoop 'is ass.", Jason answered. His guest shook his head in disgust and walked away
"Jason Cash!", came a yell from his left. Jason looked over. And ther, in all his gayness, was Crispin...Adrian Archer's designer. Jason laughed out loud. "I knew I'd find you here.", Crispin said with delight. Jason damn near spit out his beer. "What in the sumbitchin hell that spossed ta mean?", Jason asked. Crispin grinned a wide grin. "I knew you were just playing hard to get yesterday.", Crispin smiled. This time Jason actually spit out his beer, which was a bit of a waste. "I dont know what yer ass means by 'at mess, but ai dont damn it like it.", Jason frowned. Crispin didnt, however. He sat down next to Jason. "I forgive you for what you said.", Crispin said as he got a little too close for Jason's liking. "Look here, sumbitch...I dont damn it know what in the hell yer ass is thankin, but yer two gauhd damn seconds from gettin a boot up yer ass.", Jason threatened. Crispins eyes glittered. "Dont tease me, cowboy.", Crispin said to our hillbilly hero. Jason did a double take. "Whoa now.", Jason laughed. "Dont damn it go there.", Jason added. And then it hit him again. Crispin had to be a fuccboi. "Im lookin fer Joey Flash. His ass loves what he calls fuccbois. Yer ass looks like 'is type. You one of them fuccbois?", Jason asked. Crispin slid a little closer. "I can be what ever you want me to be.", Crispin answered. Jason shook his head. He liked this type of thing from women, but men? Nah. "You know that sumbitch er not?", Jason asked. Crispin shook his head. "I've heard of him, but I don't come around here any. Im from LA.", Crispin answered. "Well I reckon yer ass can't damn it help me.", Jason said as he finished his beer. He slammed the pitcher on the bar and got up.
"Joey Flash! Yo ass in here?", Cash yelled as loud as he could. The music stopped. People stopped dancing. They stared at our hillbilly hero. "Bout damn time yall turned 'at mess off.", Jason started. "Im lookin fer a feller by the name of Joey Flash. He loves what he calls fuccbois. Yall look like yall fit the sumbitchin description. Yall seen that sumbitch?", Jason added. He stared. They all stared.
"Get that sexy redneck out of here!"
Jason looked in the direction the voice came from. "Joey Flash. 'at you?", He yelled back. Crispin shook his head. Jason rolled his eyes. It was Crispin who had yelled. "I reckon that sumbitch ain't here tonight. Yall tell 'at sumbitch Im lookin fer 'im.", Jason said. He turned around and layed a one hundred dollar bill on the bar.
..The next morning...
The sun was shining bright on this wonderful Michigan morning. Jason had set up his handicam on a box that sat outside of the local home depot. Jason looked dressed for success in his ZT shirt, jeans and boots. He stood just outside the entrance door. He held a rather large white sign. He turned to the camera and pointed. The sign read. "Help Wanted. Wetback prefered". Jason had a huge smile across his face, but he was getting nasty looks from the people walking in. One man, who was a bit younger than Jason stopped. He looked at the sign. "Are you serious?", the young man asked. Jason nodded. "Hell son. My ass is always serious. I need some help fixin up my trailer. I heard them wetbacks hang round here lookin fer work.", Jason said. The young man, who didnt look a day over twenty two shook his head. "You know that the term wetback is a racial slur, right?", he asked. Jason shrugged. "I aint no racist if 'ats what yer tryin ta damn it say. My ass hates every damn body equaly. It done make a damn If yer white, yeller..pink..red. I dont give two shits.", Jason said. The young man sighed to himself and started to walk into home depot, when Jason stopped him. "Hey now. I saw that mess.", Jason started. "Would it be better if this sumbitch said wetbacks lives matter? Cause wetbacks is real, son. They'd real!", Jason added. The man rolled his eyes and walked inside
And so Jason waited. More people passed by. And each of them looked at him dirty..save for one old man. This old man gave Jason a high five and a thumbs up to the camera. Jason didnt know what to think. He just figured the old man was racist. Jason didnt like racist people one bit. And he stood there a little longer. A man with a nice tan came up to Jason. He wore a blue polo shirt, khakis, and had black, slicked back hair. He did not take kindly to the sign at all. "What the fuck is this?", He asked. Jason shrugged. "Just lookin ta get some work did on my trailer. I hear them wetbacks do good work fer cheap.", Jason answered. The gentleman looked as if he were about to explode. "The fuck you say?", he asked, stepping up to Jason in a threatening manner. Jason just grinned. "I really gotta repeat myself?", Jason asked. "That shit is racist.", the tan guy said. Jason sighed. "I aint no damn racist. Why every damn body thank 'at mess. My ass hates everybody.", Jason answered. The man, who was obviously Mexican, still stared at our hero. "Here's the thang. My ass an my buddies gotta fight an ole wetback by the name of David Sanchez. His ass been talkin shit on the twatter.", Jason said.
"So what?"
"So what? Hell son. You stupid er somethin? I know them wetbacks come to the home depot lookin fer work. Figured Id catch his border jumpin ass an shove my foot up 'is ass here. Welcome that sumbitch back ta wsssf right.", Jason explain. One could damn near see fire coming from his Mexican guests ears. Jason noticed, and always looking for a fight, continued. "You know that sumbitch? Where can I find his ass? I know yall sumbitches be livin thirty to a damn house.", Jason laughed. Now..funny thing about Jason's jokes..No one else seems to ever laugh. This man didn't. What did he do? Why he tried to rip Jason's sign of course? It didn't work, however, and the man ran away.
"You tell 'at sumbitch Im lookin fer 'is ass!"
Jason shrugged to the camera. "I reckon his ass though ice was comin.", Jason laughed. He stood there for a while longer, not getting any attention. No one really looked at his sign, so he started yelling. "Wetback Wanted!" Over and over again, and it wasn't long before he was approached by a group of men. They were dressed nicely and appeared to be of Latin decent.
"Yalk know David Sanchez?", Jason asked, not really noticing that he was being surrounded by the three men. "What's with the sign", the shorter one with the white t-shirt asked. Jason sighed. "Well..Im lookin fer David Sanchez. 'Is ass been talkin shit. Yall know how 'at mess is. Anyway..I heard them wetbacks get together at the home depot lookin fer work. Figured Id catch 'is ass here.", Jason said, tired of having to explain himself. "You're that wrestler, right? I hope David Sanchez whoop you guys asses.", the same man said. His two friends nodded in agreement. Jason damn near doubled over laughing. "Them sumbitchesed have better luck pickin up a turd from the clean end.", Jason said. "I know you know that sumbitch. Where is he?", Jason asked. The man didn't back down. "I wouldn't tell you if I did.", he said. Cash grinned. "Yall wetback together, huh?", Jason said with a big ole grin. At this point, they could really only leave. And they did. Jason smiled to his camera and shrugged. "Maybe them sumbitches done started goin ta Lowes.?, Jason smiled. He threw his sign on the ground, grabbed his handicam, and walked away.
...The next afternoon....
Everyone has probably been to an Aldis. If you haven't, then good for you. You're missing out on narrow ailses, old people who like to NOT move out of the fucking way..and cheap shit that you don't need or want... But also they have food. Of course I wouldn't advise eating any of it. It's cheap..and ok..just like the people that shop there.
It was mid afternoon when our hillbilly hero stumbled into this particular Aldis. The place was packed. It looked like it was food stamp day. There were people wall to wall..mostly old people and the dregs of society. Jason didnt pay to get a cart. He wouldnt have been able to steer it anyway. He wasn't here to shop. Even our hillbilly hero stayed away from Aldis. No.he was here to...
"Jayson Price!"
That's right. Jason Cash was at the home of cheap prices looking for one Jayson Price. Would be find him?
Jason was standing at the door when he'd yelled. Most of the people there stopped to look at him. And he yelled again. "Jayson Price! Yer ass home?".
People started to shop again but still kept a side eye on our hillbilly hero. Jason stumbled down the first aisle. It was chock full of any kind of chip you'd want. BBQ, cheddar, salt and vinegar. They were all there. Jason had just knocked over a display of BBQ chips, when a young Aldis worker came over to investigate. The worker was a young brown haired woman. She was over weight and not particularly attractive.
"Can I help you?"
Jason looked at her. His eyes were kind of glazed over. He was very drunk. He smelled of moonshine and beef jerky. What's tho sumbitchin place called again?", he asked. She smiled. "Why this I Aldis. The home of cheap prices of course.", She answered. Jason's eyes lit up. "Cheap prices, huh? Well I reckon my ass is in the right sumbitchin place then.", he told her, swaying back and forth. The kindly lady eyed him for a moment. "Can I help you find anything?", she asked. Cash nodded immediately. "It's be a big ole help if you could tell me if aJayson is home?", he asked. She cocked an eye brow. "Jayson?", she asked. Cash nodded. "Yup. Is that sumbitch home? Jayson Price. Where his ass at?", Cash asked. The employee giggled. "There's no Jayson Price here that I know of.", she said with a giggle. " How in the hell is this prices house an you in it..and don't damn know if 'is ass damn it lives here?", Jason asked. His helper was in shock. She didnt know what to say. She was speechless. And why wouldn't she be. Here was a very drunk man asking her if someone lived there. Part of her wanted to call the police..but she didnt want them to kill Cash, so she decided against it.
"I'll damn it find 'at sumbitch myself.", Jason said to her before stumbling further down the aisle. He was lookin side to did when he saw it. Jaf Peanutbutter. Price? A buck oh nine. Jason howled. "I found you, you cock sucker!", he yelled, cause the shoppers to stop again. He picked up the jar and laughed to himself. "Whatchu gone do now, boy?.", he said to the jar. "Yo ass mighta been big shit in wsssf 'fore ZT came round..but now? The price is wrong, bitch!", our hillbilly hero said before slamming the jar on the floor. Glass shattered everywhere. People stared in shock.
"Excuse me, sir. You can't do that!"
Jason looked over to see that same woman who had tried to help him before. "Yer asss tried ta damn it hide 'is ass! Ya can't sumbitchin save 'im.", Jason replied. He looked on the shelf and saw more jars. His eyes got wide. "That sumbitch got the Jew magic!", he added. He grabbed two more jars. "I told you, you ignorant sumbitch! The price is wrong!", he said. And then he threw those jars on the floor. And the others also wound up shattered all over the floor. "You're going to have to pay for those.", the slightly over weight woman said. Jason just laughed at her. "Naw uh uh. My ass gets paid ta whoop Jayon Prices ass. Kt aint the other way around. Hell naw.", our hillbilly hero said to the woman. "Sir, those were jars of Jaf Peanutbutter. They weren't Jayson Price or whoever you thought they were.", she told him. Cash stood there. "You ole liein bitch. You still takin up fer 'at clown.", Cash replied. "Sir, Im going to have to ask you to leave.", she said. Cash smiled and winked at her. "Yall hidin his ass, huh? Alright. You tell 'at sumbitch my ass'll be waiting fer HIS ass when he comes outside.", Jason said. He made sure to step over the glass. He muttered, "Fuckin Jew magic." As he did so.
He waited outside for what seemed to him..like hours. In reality, it was only about fifteen minutes. He got bored and left.
...Later that evening.....
Our hillbilly hero sat in his deer stand, which sat about ten feet up. It was a simple wooden platform that was nailed to a large oak tree.
"Well what in the shit do ya know? Huh? New Trios champions. Told yall we was gone walk off wit it. Told yall this whole damn time 'at we was the baddest sumbitches what ever walked through them doors. The baddest. Yall keep on sayin nope. Yall keep on doubt in 'at mess. And what keeps on happenin? We keep on keepin on. We keep on beatin the ever lovin shit outa whoever the poor sumbitch Seth puts in our way. Now? Hell now we all champions. We done did what we said we was gone do. All of Zero Tolerance gots a sumbitchin belt. But now we spossed ta be shittin in our britches cause Panteen is round? They sayin they stronger than us an what not..Cause I reckon they asses used ta damn it be big shit round wssf. Hell..They time done passed. They done had it. Hell they had it 'fore we came round...An if we was round back then? Them sumbitches woulda been whole sale ass whooped just like the rest of wsssf."
He drank some beer, spit some Skoal, and snapped into a slim jim.
"Now..My ass likes ta watch them promos. An I gotta damn it ask....Yall really a team? Cause six dicks in 'is mouth dont really come off like yall a real team. He talkin bout whoopin EVERYBODY. His ass actin like the rest of yall aint shit. Kinda makes my ass question Panteen as a team. Yall really thank y'all's asses gone whoop us..an yall aint even a team? Shiiiiit. But his ass gone get whooped by us eventually. This week though..We got Mr Super Saiyan his self... A dirty border hoppin wetback...An a Price checker. What a sumbitchin team. One of em thanks he the greatest of all time. Wonder how 'at mess works with the rest of Panteen. They all thank they the greatest ever. Corey Black...who is one hell of a damn fight thanks his ass is. Flash thanks his ass is. Six dicks in his sumbitchin jaws thanks his ass is. And Price thanks his ass is. Can't all yall be the best ever. Yall know 'at mess, right? Yer ass don't damn hear us sayin 'at mess. We a damn team. No one sumbitch more important than the other sumbitch. Ha! Y'all's asses fallen apart an yall aint even went against the most dominant team wssf ever damn it saw! Hell we aint even gotta whoop y'all's asses. Yall gone damn it whoop y'all's own asses. An 'ats a damn shame. Yall gone have ta be a team if yall wanna hang with what we got..What we are.
Like Joey Flash. I look at you..And I see a sumbitch what done won a whole helluva lot more than he done lost. Sumbitch is cocky as all hell. Now..I aint one ta say an ole sumbitch shouldn't be cocky. Hell...If ya thank ya got it..Let sumbitches know it. But I gotta say....Yer ass ain't never went up against sumbitches like us. We all brang somethin different to a fight. J is a fuckin mad man. 'At sumbitch is damn it crazy. He one of them sumbitch what'll cut yer arm off an beat ya with it. Hell that sumbitch might cut his own off if he thanks it'd hurt ya! He crazy as hell. At? At is a sumbitch was gets thangs technical. His ass always got some weird rasslin move what gone make yer insides yer outsides. Me? Well hell son...I just like ta damn it fight. Better the fight, the better my ass I in that fight. More my ass gets hit, the more excited bout that fight I get. More excited I get.....the more dangerous my ass is. Yall? Hell yall got a sumbitch what can hit hard. A wetback...an a sumbitch more worried bout 'is dick than the fight. It kinda makes my ass crack up. Yalk dont brang a damn thang but mouth to this sumbitchin fight. The hell yall gone do? Talk us to death? That aint worth a damn. We'll just kick yall in the balls an bitch slap the shit out of ya. Im talkin actual shit in yer britches from all the gettin slapped yall gone do."
Jason started laughing. At what? Who the hell knows.
"Hell I reckon I better watch out. My ass might misspell somethin Im actually sayin, right, Flash? Cause some how 'at mess matters. Some how 'at sumbitch damn comes at ya fer spellin mess yer sayin. Flash is a funny sumbitch.. My quest though is this one..Why come back, huh? I mean..we all spossed ta be beneath ya. Why come back? Yer ass don like fightin? Or was yo ass the low man on the totem poll where ever it was you was at 'fore ya came back to wssf? Or maybe...just maybe yer scared peoples asses gone ferget ya. You scared them fans out there gone ferget ya? Hmmm? Hell y'all's asses post on the twatter an talk enough. Always gotta let them sumbitches know yer still here. It's a dsmn shame. Damn shame. Sad as all hell..all of ya. Yall talk more than ya fight. Me? My ass dont talk much. Ya wont here me talkin bout how Im better than anybody else. Why? Cause my ass stumbles into that rang every eweek..an whoops wholesale ass. I dont damn it have ta say "Im better'n you!". Nope...I just whoop that ass an go drank more beer. Cause thats what my ass does. Yall? Hell yall talk..an talk...an talk...an talk. Not a whole helluv alot of fightin comin from yall. Hell...Holmes..er six dicks in 'is ass knows it. You know that sumbitch is tryin ta run in on the match an help y'all's asses put, right Joey? He dont damn it thank yall can get shit done. One of yer own thanks he gone have to help yall, Flash. Aint that a bitch? When yer boy dont even believe in ya? Now that's a shame an a half right there. It really is, Joe. I gotta tell ya. That aint how we do things in ZT. Hell naw. We believe in each other. We a family..a team. Yall just a bunch of sumbitchin egos. Huge ass egos dont damn it work too good together. Shit usually goes down hill with the quickness. It's perty funny actually. Either way, Joe. Yer ass gone be on the losin end at slam. Ya got too much bitch in ya. Dont worry..We gone beat it out of ya."
He froze when he heard a noise coming from the bushes. He waited. Out scampered a squirl.
" An dont you thank fer one itty bitty second, I forgot bout yer ass, Sanchez..You sumbitchin wetback. Yea..you a wetback. Dont matter if yer Mexican...burritocan...beanercan..colombian...You still a border hoppin wetback. An shit..I know you was raise out in California somewhere. Yer ass didn't damn it hop that border herself. Yer beaner parents did 'at mess too. Im just tryin ta figure out why you was never deported. You blowin the dudes over at ICE? Cause wetbacks like yer self usually get sent back cross that sumbitchin border. But what in the shit do I know, huh? Im just a racist hillbilly fuccboi who humps his sistermomawife, right? Cause that's what yee ass thanks. Am I? Shit naw. An my ass has more money in the bank than that city yer the mayor of.. What was it? Chimichongo chilli town? That bout sounds like it. Err body livin in straw huts..drankin they own piss an eatin dirt. Congrats, Sanchize. You the mayor of the tent city the brotherhood lives in. You da man, son! Except you aint. Watchin yall is like watchin teen titans go. Jared tryin ta do shit an yall makin fools f y'all's self. Specially you, wetback Willy. A wetback will I a wetback what has an American soundin name..like David. You a wetback Willy, Sanchize.
Now I know you was a cage fighter many moons ago. What happened with 'at? You get tired of bein fed yer own ass? Ya know that shit aint changin no time soon, right? Got that ass whooped then...an now? Hell now you gone get that ass whooped by the dominant group of sumbitches wssf ever damn it saw. That's be ZT in case you were wonderin. I'd say you aint got no chance, but I don't thank youd understand me...Bein that yer ass prolly don't damn it talk the English. You gone GIT yer ass whooped.
Hell...why Seth even sign yer ass up anyway? Everybody knows a wetback is only good fer one thang.. Catchin chickens. That's all yall sumbitches good fer. Yall catch a damn chicken like it ain't shit. Dont matter...cause we gone make ya wish ya never dug that sumbitchin hole an climbed under the fence."
Jason watched as the squirl ate an acorn. Then...he shot it.
"Then there was Jayson Price. The sumbitch what done held every singles belt wssf ever damn it had. I wonder what him an flash talk about. Flash got the WIn an loss record. Price done held every belt twice. Perty damn sure they just gone fight over who really the greatest is. I'd say neither one of em...But that's just me..
Now this sumbitc checked his self into rehab cause he got some kinda problem with beatin his self off. Then figured..What the shit? I dont damn it have a masturbation problem! Just ran outa jergins is all! So ya check right the hell back out an welp..Here yer ass is... Follering six dicks up 'is ass like you was his puppy dog bitch. Sound about right? I damn it thought so. Hell yer ass shoulda stayed in rehab, son. Lot less ass whoopins gone come to ya in rehab. Yer ass ain't got worry about Zero Tolerance feedin you yer own ass if you was in rehab. But ya decided that you didn't wanna be ther no more...An now you well on yer way to gettin that ass handed to ya. I'd say its a damn shame, but it ain't. Just shows yer stupid as shit.
Hell I aint gone say ya can't fight. Obviously ya can. Yer ass never would have grabbed all them belts if yer ass couldn't fight. Naw...You can fight. But...and there's always a but, right? BUT yer ass can't fight good Enough ta hang with sumbitches like us. Sumbitches what dream of fightin. Hell I eat nails an shit glass. Fact of the matter is 'at yer ass ain't never fought sumbitches like us.... An yer in fer arude ass awakening when ya get in that sumbitchin rang too. Cause we gone put boots ta asses.
Why the hell yall all over the twatter. Self promotin? Gotta get that name out, right? Wedont gotta do that mess. Naw..See..when yer the baddest group of sumbitches wsssf ever done seen.....Everybody knows who ya are. They know when yer next match is. Them sumbitches out there know everything already. We don't damn it need to flood the interwebz with stupid shit like y'all's asses do. Yall let her finger tips an mouths do the talkin. ZT? Hell we just beat the holy hell out of everybody. That's the difference 'tween usan yall. Yall former champions what don't do a damnnthang but talk. We current champions who dont do a damn thang but whoop wholesale ass. That's a perty big difference. That mess means that yall...Yall are all show...but We all go fellas. That's bad fer yall..great fer us. Cause it means we gone whoop that ass. Yall gone get that ass whooped..then crawl back to wherever in the hell it is yall came from. Then our asses can go back to owning the shit out of the roster like we was doin before. See yall at slam. .but before I go..I want yall to remember somethin. Yall fuckin suck...an ZT is yer daddy."
Jason climbed down. He grabbed the squirrel. And walked through the trees
