HH NS: Mr. Hog Wild Battle Royal

[Ben Jacobs]

Post RPs Below

10 pt. rp bonus for each person's FIRST rp that scores higher than 50 and is posted prior to Friday, November 27th @ 4:00pm (Board Time).

RP DEADLINE:
FRIDAY DECEMBER 11th, @ 11:59pm (Board Time)

Match & Segment DEADLINE:
Monday, December 14th @ Noon (Board Time)

[E.B. Marcus]

It's Dewey Bird's back yard. Leaves all over the ground. The screen door wide open leading out to the back deck. The rusted lawn furniture sitting around a black iron table where an ashtray and a few empty beercans lay around. Dewey Bird walks out with a fresh beer and a half finished cigarette. He has a seat at the table. The cameraman just sets the camera on him and lets it feed. Dewey adjusts his trucker hat and cheap sunglasses...takes a pull off his Coors, then the same with his cigarette, turns his back to the camera and begins to speak.

Dewey: They's been alot of questions floating around ol' Dewey Bird. Alot of questions that need answers. Questions about Early Beauchamp. Questions about Cletus Beauchamp. Questions about the future of Early-Bird. But that's not what I'm here to talk about today. I know what you are thinking. If I look this good from behind then please turn around.

Dewey turns around so that he faces the camera...obviously not knowing the footage was rolling as he made his entrance.

Dewey: I'm only going to talk about the one wrestling competitor in the world that matters and that's Dewey Bird. Early Beauchamp is lost somewhere. Nobody knows the status of Cletus. Hardcore Jeez has gone missing or something like that. It's time for the Mr. Hog Wild tournament and it's all about me once again. The way it should be. That's all you people really want to see to begin with.

Dewey takes another pull off of his cigarette and another sip of his beer.

Dewey: If you can figure out anything about Early Beauchamp, send it home cause' you a better man than I am. It's time now though for everybody to choose a side. It's time for everyone to draw a line and stand on the side they choose. If you aint with me, then you are against me. That's not just for Early and Cletus, that's for everybody. If the jezabel Bettie Lee wants to ride the Dewey wagon, that's great. If not, she can step out and see what she's missing out on. You only get one shot Bettie Lee Bottoms. If Delilah Ghost wants onboard the Birdtrain, then she's welcome too. A voice aint the only thing she's missing by hanging out with that mute, I promise. But on to other matters.

Dewey sits back in his lawnchair, throws down his cigarette, pulls another out from behind his ear and lights it up.

Dewey: I'm wild. So it's only fitting that I enter and win that Mr. Hog Wild battle royal. Understand that Dewey Bird has took some time off and he's ready to do battle. Everywhere I've travelled since I've been gone, all over the word people have recognized Dewey Bird. They recognize my hats, they recognize my shirts, they recognize my fashionable fanny packs. They recognize my muscles, and they recognize my will to win matches and be on top of the mountain. And at Never Surrender, I'm going to start taking care of business, and gettin' where I need to be. And Dewey Bird will be walkin' out Mr. Hog Wild.

Dewey downs the rest of his beer and walks back into his house as the cameras fade.

[E.B. Marcus]

The scene opens again to Dewey Bird's back yard. Dewey has a cigarette lit and carrying a beer in one hand and a sandbag with the other. He's rushing to put sandbags up around his back deck and door. He stops for a brief moment to talk to the camera.

Dewey: I know you don't have to put that camera down and help, but you have to know that there's a flood coming this way either tonight or tomorrow.

Dewey throws his cigarette down and continues to stack sandbags as he speaks.

Dewey: Everyone in the world thinks that I'm some kind of pushover. I'd be willing to bet that at least three other guys sign up for the Mr. Hog Wild battle royal match before the days out. So I'm moving these sandbags out onto the lawn so that I can get a good workout.

He stops to take a drink off his beer, remove his truckers hat, and wipe the sweat off his brow.

Dewey: I know it's cold out here, but this can make you really work up a sweat. I'm going to stop that flood. I'm going to stay ahead of the game so that I "WILL" walk out of Never Surrender as Mr. Hog Wild.

He removes his flannel shirt to reveal a 70's Farrah Faucet Charlie's Angels shirt underneath.

Dewey: This is what a real man does. This is the kind of thing that Bettie Lee Bottoms and Deli Ghost dream about at night. A real man doesn't visit some overpriced gym. A real man works hard. I've had time to get myself in just the right shape to become Mr. Hog Wild. I've had time to get my head clear from all the hoopla' around Early and Uncle Cletus.

Dewey has a seat for a moment and gets a more serious look on his face.

Dewey: I'm not the only one that's taken time away from their job. There's people out of work all over this country. The difference between me and them is that while they are sitting at home depending on Obama's handouts, I'm working hard. I'm getting ready to go back to work And I'm going to back to work harder than ever. I'm going back to work in the best shape of my life. That's why on the day after Never Surrender, I'll be known as "Mr. Hog Wild" Dewey Bird, and the world will be wondering just what title I'm going to take for myself.

[Creed Michaels]

THE GOSPEL
EPISODE 3.1
LOCATION: A HORROR SCENE

{Inside a small, Japanese-style room, a contrast of light and shadow lines the floor. In the center of the room sits a large, burlap sack; filled with something unknown. A low level, all-too-familiar laugh can be heard from the corner. Of course, it belongs to the darkened soul known as Creed Michaels. However, he isn’t alone as a tiny, Japanese woman is clutched in his grasp; his left hand tightly clasped over her mouth; his right hand and legs keeping her close to him so that she can’t get away. Her tears and muffled cries can’t take away the smile that’s spread across Creed’s face at this moment.}

Creed - RCW, despite what your wishes may be when it comes to me, I assure you that I will disappoint you each and every time. I’m not going anywhere and the chaos and destruction I’ve caused already is just the starting point for something much greater. The pain I’ve caused to Nathan Sanders and the hell I put Matt Cook through will seem like a bad rash compared to what I will accomplish in the Hog Wild Battle Royal.

{Creed’s laugh gets louder as the girl tries to run away. He quickly pulls her back in as the smile turns to a sneer. She starts to quiver as Creed puts his face right up against her neck and starts to breathe up and down this slender part of her flesh. He pulls back after several moments.}

Creed - As you can see, I’m not in Arkansas…at least for now. I’m in the Land of the Rising Sun and am spending my time focusing on…alternative…training methods. You see, I train for my matches, or as I refer to them: my orchestras of destruction, by finding someone in the world whom I can put through absolute torture. Unlike the despots back in Arkansas, I have enough disposable income to where I can travel to places like Japan on a whim and not have to worry about whether to purchase a meal for my foul gut or to purchase a toothbrush for my disease-infested teeth. I’ve done as well with my money as well as I’ve made my opponents miserable. That will continue with my opponents at this supposed supercard of RCW.

{Creed flicks his hair back but it smacks the girl on the way; sending a chill down her spine.}

Creed - Although, how super can a card be when someone who is competing for a title shot happens to be the brain-dead loser Dewey Bird? He talks about women as if he knows what to do with them or like he’s had conquests of those like them when I doubt he’s even been touched by his mother, let alone another woman. He refers to himself like he’s a sexual predator on the prowl when he’s only a drunken deviant who can’t find his place in the world. “What’s going on with Dewey Bird?” Nobody cares about the question that nobody asked…outside of the toothless idiot himself. Yet another twisted fool who sees himself above all others; a lot like the personality of Matt Cook.

{His smile returns with a more sadistic nature.}

Creed - That fool was crazy enough to believe that he was fighting a battle that he could win when he was just fighting the inevitable. He believed himself to be a new legend in pro wrestling when he was nothing more than an overpaid, worthless tool. I crushed him like a listless office worker would crush a paper cup when discussing the same, idiotic banter with other listless fools around the water cooler. They hate their boss; they hate their job; most importantly, they hate their lives. Cook knows now what I knew already about him: he’s a simpleton playing Einstein and has no idea what relativity truly is. He’s a commoner playing God who wants to blow his brains out because he’s found that he can’t control the people he interacts with like puppets; people refuse to follow, listen or give a second glance to him. Most importantly, he was a loser trying to play a winner which failed miserably. Not only don’t I play at these things but I also don’t lose.

{The girl again tries to pull away. This time, she gets her mouth free for a few moments. Creed is quick to recover and easily prevents her from making even the slightest sound. He whispers something in her ear which breaks her down again.}

Creed - Dewey, you and Cook are a lot alike in that you’re trying to run from your destiny. You think that if you speak like a supposed “big shot” that it’ll come true. I’ll be the first to tell you that it simply isn’t true as talent, not well-wishing, is what makes it in this business. You try to talk yourself up as something special because you hate what you see in the mirror. The smoke is building up in your lungs; the coughing brings you closer to death each day; your teeth decaying to the point that you’ll be feeding on a tube for the rest of your life. The alcohol that’s swelling your disgusting stomach is slowing your reflexes and destroying what few brain cells you have in your tiny head. Your hygiene leaves so much to be desired that even the flies won’t go near someone like you. You’re a rotten, deathly, misbegotten cancer on life and I’m the cure. The people will be beside themselves on this situation. I hate them and everything they stand for but none of them could ever appreciate a despicable creature like you. No matter the outcome, whether I drop dead of a blood clot which will give you a forfeit win or I break every bone in your body and get the title shot of my choosing, all of the RCW fans in that arena will be surely disappointed. In the end, that’s what I truly care about. Giving people even the slightest of hope…

{Creed moves his hand and the girl goes to run. She falls to the ground as a leash that was secretly placed around her neck drags her down. She is unable to call for help as Creed’s tugging on the chain has severely choked and injured her neck. She grabs at her throat; coughing severely.}

Creed - …and then ripping it away. That’s the one thing that gives me pleasure above everything else, Dewey, and you’ll find that out very, very soon. You can build your wall of sandbags if you think that will keep you safe but the flood will fall upon you at Hog Heaven. Its ferocity and vicious nature will crush down on you; sucking the breath from you and dragging you off to your death. And Dewey, that flood of power, that dealer of death, shall be vastly superior to you. You and your pea-sized brain don’t have to agree with it but when it’s spoken in my voice, it’s the gospel.

{Creed starts to laugh as he ties his end of the leash tightly to the wall. He then takes a long, wooden rod and places it against the back of the girl’s neck as she gets to her knees. This both prevents her from speaking and from trying to run away again. Creed then walks away as he continues to admire his work with laughter; the girl just sitting in a darkened silhouette; the bag remains still in the center of the room. Suddenly, the bag ferociously jumps and rolls into a nearby table. Confused and nervous cries can be heard from inside. Creed continues to laugh at the scene as he turns the light out and closes the door; a woman’s muffled scream is heard through the bag.}

[Creed Michaels]

THE GOSPEL
EPISODE 3.2
LOCATION: SAME

{In the cramped space of Japan in which Creed unleashed his most recent affair of anguish, no lights are shining. On the outside stands an armed assault force who quickly bust down the door; responding to reports of foul play. They turn on the lights to reveal the quivering, scared Japanese girl from before…but no one else. The person in the burlap sack and Creed are both missing.}

LOCATION: UNDISCLOSED

{Back inside Creed’s inner sanctum is the person within the bag. Her wrists are shackled to a chain over head; the camera setting on a tripod is positioned behind her; exposing her bare back. All that is known about her is her sleek form and black, flowing hair. As she struggles to break free, Creed appears from the left of the screen; a whip in hand; a smile on his face.}

Creed - When I noticed that no one else had entered the foray set forth before me and Dewey Bird, not even that coward Matt Cook, I must admit that I was surprised. At first, I thought that it was my currently only opponent’s despicable hygiene that scared other pretenders away.

{Creed lets out a chuckle as he runs his finger up and down a portion of the whip.}

Creed - But now, now the reason is apparent: people are afraid. Afraid of me and what I might do to them. Of course, you all have good reason. Take for instance, my recent stay in Japan: not only did I convince a voluptuous harlot of their decent to take me home but I then chained her and tortured her. Why? Because I could, because I wanted to and because I enjoyed every last millisecond of it.

{Creed steps back and cracks the whip into the air. The girl wincing and then crying over the sound; knowing full well what will soon come.}

Creed - Who wants to deal with someone like that?

{Creed pauses for a moment; just staring into the camera. Suddenly, he lunges and cracks the whip across the girl’s back. She screams out in agony as a bloody welt quickly appears across her back. Unmoved, Creed just continues to smile.}

Creed - That cretin, Dewey Bird, is trapped anyway as he was the person foolish enough to open his mouth first. He can’t hope to escape what I plan to deliver at this event known as Never Surrender. At this point, I’m sure that he dreams that he could just stay all cuddled up in his faux womb in his bed but he knows that I would haunt him until his dying days. When he shows up, that day will come much sooner and he won’t have time to dream such a nightmare that I can deliver.

{Creed lunges and strikes her again with another whip strike. Her cries grow louder and more painful. The sound just seems to make Creed smile even wider and laugh even harder.}

Creed - Dewey, so named after an animated duck, shall drown in his own sorrows upon my completion of his total destruction. He fancies himself a ladies man but what lady will want such a man without the use of his arms, legs, eyes, mouth or what little brain he has even now? The pain that I inflict on him shall be indescribable by mere words…

{Creed again strikes her with the whip. Her screams become almost deafening as they bounce off the surrounding walls.}

Creed - …just like the pain I inflict on this vessel shall fail in comparison to the pain yet-to-come.

{Creed whips her several more times until it almost appears that she’s begun to suffer from a seizure. He walks around to the front, picking her fallen head up and squeezing her face in his hand.}

Creed - I have you picked for a very special mission. Once this river of blood is complete, you’ll be ready to conduct such a mission.

{He pushes her face away as her motionless body sways. A slight breath and then a cough indicate that she’s still alive despite the pain.}

Creed - As for anyone else who may still have the supposed guts to enter this match, you’d best pray that I make your suffering quick because nothing I do will ever be painless. I will crush your souls so that you will experience the notion of feeling nevermore. I will prove at Never Surrender that when it comes to the rest of RCW, I am vastly superior.

{Creed whips her one last time as she screams out again. This time, letting out an angry shriek afterwards. Creed saunters off after doing so; his maniacal laugh echoing even after the screen fades to black.}