Post by John "Sheriff" McBride on Dec 7, 2012 5:34:00 GMT -4
Our scene opens to a calm river lined by trees dressed for autumn. The wind plays the tree limbs like chimes as fish emerge just long enough to swallow a bug. The serenity is momentarily delayed as we pan to the left to find John McBride with a fishing hook in one hand and a worm in the other. He’s sitting in a folding chair on a wooden dock that’s jutting out into the river; he appears to be prepping his line. A rustle of grass catches his attention; he turns towards us.
Oh howdy folks.
John says without the cheesy hollywood overtone people are accustomed to. Howdy in the south is a legitimate greeting, but not everyone sounds like an idiot when they use it.
Didn’t think anyone knew I was here.
He offered a smile before returning to his task. He spoke while working.
Sorry, only take a sec, this grub here is bein’ a pain in tha ass.
He hooked the worm and turned to us with a thumbs up and a smile. He casts the line out into the water and hooks it in a pipe screwed down to the dock. John dusts his hands off and stands up out of his chair just high enough to grip the arm rests and turn it to face us. He sits back down and crosses his legs. He pulls something out of his shirt pocket and tips his hat backwards before sticking the item in his mouth.
Jerky?
John sticks his fingers in his pocket again, his motion suggests that he is offering them some, to which they reply without words.
Alright, suit-cherself.
John reaches down beside the fishing rod and grabs a beer can sitting next to it.
This lil river is located south of a small college town near Austin Texas. Great place ta fish, my kinda vacation.
He takes a swig and sets the beer back down next to the rod.
Don't worry, plane leaves tomorrow mornin', I'll be in Maine, prepped an ready to whip sum ass. Just takin' a moment to appreciate tha fresh air this beautiful country produces.
John looks around as he speaks, returning his attention to the camera intermittently.
Ya know I was born in this great state, lived here my whole life, even ta this day. So I’ve lived among the messican culture fora long time. Can’t say I ever heard a messican talk tha way you talked, Will Black. Needless ta say, you weren’t foolin’ me, doubt you were foolin’ anyone. Hell I thought you were a silly gimmick that Mr. Duval put together to give tha fans sumptin ta laugh at. Maybe Duval had nothin’ ta do with it, dudn’t matter, just like you revealin’ yurself ta be a screwy englishman dudn’t matter.
John pulled his hat off his head and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He sat the hat on the ground and reached for the beer.
Ya bitch and moan about Americans only bein’ good at complainin’ Will. But I’d say tha only damn thing yur good at is complainin’ about Americans. You insult tha intelligence of men far more experienced in this industry than you are, and you act as though your amateur attempts to conceal your identity actually worked. After ONE week of activity you reveal yourself. Wow, what a surprise...ata way ta build up the suspense for yur grand entrance. Whatcha fail ta understand is that no one gives a shit aboutcha Will, thats why no ones talkin’ aboutcha. Hell, I was more surprised ta hear you thought that fake tan actually made us believe you were messican.
John cracks a smile and shakes his head. He empties the beer and tosses it in a styrofoam ice chest.
Now I’m not one ta discredit a mans hard work Will. After all, we worked to get here and no one can take that from us. But ya lay claim ta havin a record of three and oh so far...not countin’ this past Monday of course. Ya credit yurself with tha outcome of tha 8 man tag match justa few weeks back. If i remember correctly it wadn’t you who got tha pin. So how can you say ya have three wins when the only part of that match that mattered WAS the pin?
John raises his hands and shoulders to display the body language of confusion.
You doin this for attention er sumptin? I mean ya ain’t foolin’ anyone, all yur matches are on tape. Ya want attention so bad but all ya do is whine about others gettin’ it instead of you. Well, maybe if you spent less time whinin’ an alienatin’ people you’d find tha attention coming yur way. Not to mention that little temper-tantrum-attitude you display so often. Relax sunshine, life ain’t all that bad.
And I thought you said you wanted people ta come ta yur side? If so, why the hell would ya take a chair to yur opponents last week knowin damn well you’d be disqualified? On top of that, you bitch about Deruty takin’ the win from ya a few weeks ago, a win that woulda put you in title contention. Were ya not aware that you throwin’ last weeks match by swingin’ a chair around caused ya ta miss out on another chance at tha title? Your priorities are all messed up Willy, I suggest you stop thinkin’ yur shit don’t stink and start makin better decisions for yourself, decisions that don’t contradict what you claim ta want.
John smacks his neck to ward off an irritating fly. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out another piece of jerky.
You boys sure ya don’t want any? Corner store right up that road sells tha best bee...alright then.
He naws at the tip of the Jerky before giving a big smile.
Ya know I just remembered sumptin that happen ta me a few years back. Mind if I tell you boys a funny story?
John leans forward in his chair a bit, anticipating their response, clearly hoping they would say yes. The enthusiasm displayed when he adjusted his position tells us they agreed.
Well, this was a few years back when I was wrestlin’ for a small company outta Albuquerque. We’d just flew in ta Santa Rosa from Puerto de Luna Messico. We hopped off tha plane and grabbed a bite ta eat at the big T.A right next to tha landin’ strip.
John stopped for a minute and looked at the camera.
Tha T.A is a Travel Center of America, a big truck stop. It’s one of those places that poor redneck folk like ta gather after a long days work. It’s also where truckers swing in ta fill up and rest for tha night. Don’t worry Will, I don’t expect ya ta understand. These kinda people wouldn’t be familiar to a proper englishman like yurself. These are down home kinda people...tha kind that fill the stands every Monday night to watch men like you an me bleed for pennies on tha dollar. These aren’t tha kinda people to smoke cigars and play cards while their buddies belly ache over how unfair tha world is.
John returned to his original thought, taking a moment to clear his throat and toss a raised eyebrow towards the camera.
Anyway. I sat down on a crapper to clear out some lingerin’ messican food when I noticed sumptin’ on tha wall. Now it’s not uncommon to find dirty writin’ on tha wall of a john, but this time I found sumptin’ surprisin’ an gross. Someone decided to stand up, spread their ass cheeks an dot tha wall with about a thumb print worth of SHIT. Can you believe that? At first I was pissed off, havin’ ta sit there knowin’ someones shit was that gall-darn close to ma face.
John indicated with his index finger and thumb how close it was to his face, clearly exaggerating a bit.
I mean who would do sumptin like that?
He shook his head and slapped his knee. He leaned back in his chair with a big west Texas smile stretched across his face and hearty belly laugh echoing across the river.
Then it got a little funny... tha idea that sumone actually stood up an pressed their ass to tha wall just to surprise some poor fella tryin’ ta take care of business. The idea of a grown man... cause it was a grown man no doubt, no kiddo could reach that high without help, this was clearly the work of sumone big enough to know better. But, the idea that a grown man would do that, knowin’ how dirty and filthy that wall was, ta just press his ass to it without considerin’ tha consequences. Poor sumbitch prolly got worms from doin’ it.
Now at dis point I’m laughin pretty hard, it’s silly ya know? I mean, I couldn’t imagine doin’ sumptin like that, thats beyond my willfulness. Can’t say I’ve ever wanted ta make an impact in sumones life bad enough ta smear shit on a wall...clearly this guy was the exception. So I finally stop laughing and finished up. I wiped my ass, on toilet paper mind you, and carried on with my day. Jus’ like that, I’d moved on from it.
John takes in a breath to calm himself from the laughing fit. John gives the camera crew a few seconds to settle as well.
Now you might be askin’ yurself why I shared that damn story with ya. Well, ta put it simply...you remind me of that smudge of shit Will. Ya see I came to tha APW ready ta take care of business, not unlike when I sat down on that toilet...ready to take care of business. Then, outta nowhere, I spot a smudge of shit thas jus beggin for attention. At first I was mad, a little irritated that someone let that smudge of shit in here. Irritated that I had to share tha same room with it. But after awhile it got funny, and before long I completely forgot about it. That’s pretty much you Will...a smudge of shit everyone stopped payin’ attention to.
But I’m payin’ attention now Will...yur about all I’m payin’ attention to these days. I won’t stand for sum english punk to step in that ring with me knowin’ he’s ungrateful for the opportunity he was given. You threw away your opportunities at the North American title Will, both of em. Now you gotta deal with me, and I ain’t no easy task. A shot at tha North American title might not’ve meant a whole lot ta you, but it means a lot ta me. I have no intention of warmin up the crowds for tha main events, Will. I aim for tha top no matter where I go. And I’ll be damned if a jackass like yurself is gonna knock me off target.
John reaches down, grabs his cowboy hat and places it on his head. He tucks it down just low enough that his eyes peer out from under the brim.
We got enough cocky sum’bitches like you runnin around Will, yur makin’ it awefully crowded. Maybe after slappin you around a bit and pinnin those pasty white shoulders of yurs to tha mat you’ll wisen up...but I doubt it. Dudn’t mean I won’t do it anyway.
He points to the camera with a stern look on his face.
I’m gonna teach ya a lesson Monday night Will, a lesson you won’t soon forget. Ya wanted a one on one match against a worthy opponent?
Be careful whatcha wish for.
John tips his hat to the camera as we Fade To Black.
Oh howdy folks.
John says without the cheesy hollywood overtone people are accustomed to. Howdy in the south is a legitimate greeting, but not everyone sounds like an idiot when they use it.
Didn’t think anyone knew I was here.
He offered a smile before returning to his task. He spoke while working.
Sorry, only take a sec, this grub here is bein’ a pain in tha ass.
He hooked the worm and turned to us with a thumbs up and a smile. He casts the line out into the water and hooks it in a pipe screwed down to the dock. John dusts his hands off and stands up out of his chair just high enough to grip the arm rests and turn it to face us. He sits back down and crosses his legs. He pulls something out of his shirt pocket and tips his hat backwards before sticking the item in his mouth.
Jerky?
John sticks his fingers in his pocket again, his motion suggests that he is offering them some, to which they reply without words.
Alright, suit-cherself.
John reaches down beside the fishing rod and grabs a beer can sitting next to it.
This lil river is located south of a small college town near Austin Texas. Great place ta fish, my kinda vacation.
He takes a swig and sets the beer back down next to the rod.
Don't worry, plane leaves tomorrow mornin', I'll be in Maine, prepped an ready to whip sum ass. Just takin' a moment to appreciate tha fresh air this beautiful country produces.
John looks around as he speaks, returning his attention to the camera intermittently.
Ya know I was born in this great state, lived here my whole life, even ta this day. So I’ve lived among the messican culture fora long time. Can’t say I ever heard a messican talk tha way you talked, Will Black. Needless ta say, you weren’t foolin’ me, doubt you were foolin’ anyone. Hell I thought you were a silly gimmick that Mr. Duval put together to give tha fans sumptin ta laugh at. Maybe Duval had nothin’ ta do with it, dudn’t matter, just like you revealin’ yurself ta be a screwy englishman dudn’t matter.
John pulled his hat off his head and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He sat the hat on the ground and reached for the beer.
Ya bitch and moan about Americans only bein’ good at complainin’ Will. But I’d say tha only damn thing yur good at is complainin’ about Americans. You insult tha intelligence of men far more experienced in this industry than you are, and you act as though your amateur attempts to conceal your identity actually worked. After ONE week of activity you reveal yourself. Wow, what a surprise...ata way ta build up the suspense for yur grand entrance. Whatcha fail ta understand is that no one gives a shit aboutcha Will, thats why no ones talkin’ aboutcha. Hell, I was more surprised ta hear you thought that fake tan actually made us believe you were messican.
John cracks a smile and shakes his head. He empties the beer and tosses it in a styrofoam ice chest.
Now I’m not one ta discredit a mans hard work Will. After all, we worked to get here and no one can take that from us. But ya lay claim ta havin a record of three and oh so far...not countin’ this past Monday of course. Ya credit yurself with tha outcome of tha 8 man tag match justa few weeks back. If i remember correctly it wadn’t you who got tha pin. So how can you say ya have three wins when the only part of that match that mattered WAS the pin?
John raises his hands and shoulders to display the body language of confusion.
You doin this for attention er sumptin? I mean ya ain’t foolin’ anyone, all yur matches are on tape. Ya want attention so bad but all ya do is whine about others gettin’ it instead of you. Well, maybe if you spent less time whinin’ an alienatin’ people you’d find tha attention coming yur way. Not to mention that little temper-tantrum-attitude you display so often. Relax sunshine, life ain’t all that bad.
And I thought you said you wanted people ta come ta yur side? If so, why the hell would ya take a chair to yur opponents last week knowin damn well you’d be disqualified? On top of that, you bitch about Deruty takin’ the win from ya a few weeks ago, a win that woulda put you in title contention. Were ya not aware that you throwin’ last weeks match by swingin’ a chair around caused ya ta miss out on another chance at tha title? Your priorities are all messed up Willy, I suggest you stop thinkin’ yur shit don’t stink and start makin better decisions for yourself, decisions that don’t contradict what you claim ta want.
John smacks his neck to ward off an irritating fly. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out another piece of jerky.
You boys sure ya don’t want any? Corner store right up that road sells tha best bee...alright then.
He naws at the tip of the Jerky before giving a big smile.
Ya know I just remembered sumptin that happen ta me a few years back. Mind if I tell you boys a funny story?
John leans forward in his chair a bit, anticipating their response, clearly hoping they would say yes. The enthusiasm displayed when he adjusted his position tells us they agreed.
Well, this was a few years back when I was wrestlin’ for a small company outta Albuquerque. We’d just flew in ta Santa Rosa from Puerto de Luna Messico. We hopped off tha plane and grabbed a bite ta eat at the big T.A right next to tha landin’ strip.
John stopped for a minute and looked at the camera.
Tha T.A is a Travel Center of America, a big truck stop. It’s one of those places that poor redneck folk like ta gather after a long days work. It’s also where truckers swing in ta fill up and rest for tha night. Don’t worry Will, I don’t expect ya ta understand. These kinda people wouldn’t be familiar to a proper englishman like yurself. These are down home kinda people...tha kind that fill the stands every Monday night to watch men like you an me bleed for pennies on tha dollar. These aren’t tha kinda people to smoke cigars and play cards while their buddies belly ache over how unfair tha world is.
John returned to his original thought, taking a moment to clear his throat and toss a raised eyebrow towards the camera.
Anyway. I sat down on a crapper to clear out some lingerin’ messican food when I noticed sumptin’ on tha wall. Now it’s not uncommon to find dirty writin’ on tha wall of a john, but this time I found sumptin’ surprisin’ an gross. Someone decided to stand up, spread their ass cheeks an dot tha wall with about a thumb print worth of SHIT. Can you believe that? At first I was pissed off, havin’ ta sit there knowin’ someones shit was that gall-darn close to ma face.
John indicated with his index finger and thumb how close it was to his face, clearly exaggerating a bit.
I mean who would do sumptin like that?
He shook his head and slapped his knee. He leaned back in his chair with a big west Texas smile stretched across his face and hearty belly laugh echoing across the river.
Then it got a little funny... tha idea that sumone actually stood up an pressed their ass to tha wall just to surprise some poor fella tryin’ ta take care of business. The idea of a grown man... cause it was a grown man no doubt, no kiddo could reach that high without help, this was clearly the work of sumone big enough to know better. But, the idea that a grown man would do that, knowin’ how dirty and filthy that wall was, ta just press his ass to it without considerin’ tha consequences. Poor sumbitch prolly got worms from doin’ it.
Now at dis point I’m laughin pretty hard, it’s silly ya know? I mean, I couldn’t imagine doin’ sumptin like that, thats beyond my willfulness. Can’t say I’ve ever wanted ta make an impact in sumones life bad enough ta smear shit on a wall...clearly this guy was the exception. So I finally stop laughing and finished up. I wiped my ass, on toilet paper mind you, and carried on with my day. Jus’ like that, I’d moved on from it.
John takes in a breath to calm himself from the laughing fit. John gives the camera crew a few seconds to settle as well.
Now you might be askin’ yurself why I shared that damn story with ya. Well, ta put it simply...you remind me of that smudge of shit Will. Ya see I came to tha APW ready ta take care of business, not unlike when I sat down on that toilet...ready to take care of business. Then, outta nowhere, I spot a smudge of shit thas jus beggin for attention. At first I was mad, a little irritated that someone let that smudge of shit in here. Irritated that I had to share tha same room with it. But after awhile it got funny, and before long I completely forgot about it. That’s pretty much you Will...a smudge of shit everyone stopped payin’ attention to.
But I’m payin’ attention now Will...yur about all I’m payin’ attention to these days. I won’t stand for sum english punk to step in that ring with me knowin’ he’s ungrateful for the opportunity he was given. You threw away your opportunities at the North American title Will, both of em. Now you gotta deal with me, and I ain’t no easy task. A shot at tha North American title might not’ve meant a whole lot ta you, but it means a lot ta me. I have no intention of warmin up the crowds for tha main events, Will. I aim for tha top no matter where I go. And I’ll be damned if a jackass like yurself is gonna knock me off target.
John reaches down, grabs his cowboy hat and places it on his head. He tucks it down just low enough that his eyes peer out from under the brim.
We got enough cocky sum’bitches like you runnin around Will, yur makin’ it awefully crowded. Maybe after slappin you around a bit and pinnin those pasty white shoulders of yurs to tha mat you’ll wisen up...but I doubt it. Dudn’t mean I won’t do it anyway.
He points to the camera with a stern look on his face.
I’m gonna teach ya a lesson Monday night Will, a lesson you won’t soon forget. Ya wanted a one on one match against a worthy opponent?
Be careful whatcha wish for.
John tips his hat to the camera as we Fade To Black.
