Post by Mac Bane on Nov 1, 2012 17:30:39 GMT -4
“A Son of the South”
{Port Arthur, Texas}
The morning sun begins to crest the tree line, just barely peaking above the tops of the pines. For some, mostly those who are from the area the smell of the piney woods is like a perfume. Some never leave South East Texas.
“As beautiful as this is, as nice as the people who live here are, it was never going to be enough. There is not a single thing here to hold me here. Great thing about family, they tend to stay in one spot, because that is what they are comfortable with. I can always come back for visits from time to time. When people look at me…”
The camera pans back to reveal a very large man who stands six feet and six inches high and most be over two hundred and fifty pounds. Clad in ripped up jeans, ostrich skin boots, denim carheart shirty partially covered by the black duster he wears and to crown it off a black Stetson. The man allows a toothy grin to play across his lips as he continues to speak….
“It’s always the same, the first thing that enters their mind is white trash or redneck or how about uneducated trailer park trash.”
He allows the grin to slide from his face, moving his arms back to get the duster out of the way as he rests his fists on his hips revealing the black chaps that partially cover his legs.
“That’s ok to think it, and I of course will allow you to continue to think it. Because that in itself gives me the advantage.”
The big man turns to walk away from the camera but then pauses for a moment looking back over his right shoulder.
“You don’t have to believe me; I’m more than happy to prove you wrong. I’ve been doing it my entire life, so why stop now? When I first entered this business, I was older than most rookies at the ripe old age of 27. I served my country as a member of the United States Navy. No I was never a Navy SEAL, every joker in this business who was even on a military base at some time in their lives claims they were special forces. Ninety-nine percent of the time it turns out to be a lie. But I digress, when I was a rookie I was the guy that everyone said would not amount to anything, that I would never hold a title of any kind, that I would always be a curtain jerker. After you win a world title or two that tends to shut them up. So yes I am a son of the south, full on farmers tan, blue jean wearin, whiskey drinkin, Stetson wearin, Copenhagen dippin, ass whippin machine! An old friend of mine is on his way here as we speak and boys and girls there aint a title in this company that is safe!”
He turns and begins to walk away and then stops and without turning around makes one last statement.
“The name is Mac Bane….you’ve been warned.”
{Port Arthur, Texas}
The morning sun begins to crest the tree line, just barely peaking above the tops of the pines. For some, mostly those who are from the area the smell of the piney woods is like a perfume. Some never leave South East Texas.
“As beautiful as this is, as nice as the people who live here are, it was never going to be enough. There is not a single thing here to hold me here. Great thing about family, they tend to stay in one spot, because that is what they are comfortable with. I can always come back for visits from time to time. When people look at me…”
The camera pans back to reveal a very large man who stands six feet and six inches high and most be over two hundred and fifty pounds. Clad in ripped up jeans, ostrich skin boots, denim carheart shirty partially covered by the black duster he wears and to crown it off a black Stetson. The man allows a toothy grin to play across his lips as he continues to speak….
“It’s always the same, the first thing that enters their mind is white trash or redneck or how about uneducated trailer park trash.”
He allows the grin to slide from his face, moving his arms back to get the duster out of the way as he rests his fists on his hips revealing the black chaps that partially cover his legs.
“That’s ok to think it, and I of course will allow you to continue to think it. Because that in itself gives me the advantage.”
The big man turns to walk away from the camera but then pauses for a moment looking back over his right shoulder.
“You don’t have to believe me; I’m more than happy to prove you wrong. I’ve been doing it my entire life, so why stop now? When I first entered this business, I was older than most rookies at the ripe old age of 27. I served my country as a member of the United States Navy. No I was never a Navy SEAL, every joker in this business who was even on a military base at some time in their lives claims they were special forces. Ninety-nine percent of the time it turns out to be a lie. But I digress, when I was a rookie I was the guy that everyone said would not amount to anything, that I would never hold a title of any kind, that I would always be a curtain jerker. After you win a world title or two that tends to shut them up. So yes I am a son of the south, full on farmers tan, blue jean wearin, whiskey drinkin, Stetson wearin, Copenhagen dippin, ass whippin machine! An old friend of mine is on his way here as we speak and boys and girls there aint a title in this company that is safe!”
He turns and begins to walk away and then stops and without turning around makes one last statement.
“The name is Mac Bane….you’ve been warned.”
