Not so long ago... in a Hillbilly Dive Bar Far Far Away...
A man walks into a redneck dive, full of cobwebs and few bar flies... and a dilapidated ring in the dead center. The setting is mostly empty, it's 1am, and the man is looking for someone. He mutters something to the bartender cleaning up stale beer, spit, and a little bit of blood. The ring is merely a few feet from the ceiling, stained with sweat and a musky odor.
Bartender: He's in the back kid... and if you're lucky, he's not passed out...
The bartender lets out a hearty laugh as the man strides through the beaded barrier. He comes upon a stocky, stubbly, and smelly man seemingly passed out on a folding chair with his fingers barely clinging to a bottle of ale, as if it were life itself slipping away...
Nameless Man:Ray...(shakes the lifeless man)... RAY!!!
"Ray": (Barely conscious)Dang man I'll have the damn rent soon. I got a bid deal come...zzzzz
Nameless Man: God Damn It RAY!
The man slaps "Ray" out of his chair and splashes water on him.
"Ray:" God damn brother... I told you!... Huh? You?
Nameless Man: Yeah... It's me Ray.
Nameless Man: Jesus Christ.
The man strides across the room, he pauses, picks up a bottle of bourbon, and moves towards "Ray"...
"Ray": Goddam Honey if you wanted some just ask! I mean hell...wait you ain't Bertha... you look like that fella... SOB... you're SOB!
"SOB": It's SOH Ray. And you're Redneck Ray.
Redneck Ray: Well.. I was... you sure it ain't SOB... I mean, hell, that's how I remember you...
SOH: Yeah... I get that a lot... what are they paying you here... (looks around in disgust)... what are they paying you Ray?
Redneck Ray: Well... I get free beer... Milwaukee's Best... and there's a girl Bertha... she's a biggun... but she sucks the chrome...
SOH: Forget that Ray...
Redneck Ray: And they give me a goat... kinda looks like Bertha... not as big ya see...
SOH: What if I offered you six digits for a show?
Redneck Ray: A show? Donkey or Rasslin?
SOH:SOH pinches the bridge of his nose. A wrestling show Ray.
Redneck Ray: Hmm... well... you know brother there's the whole free beer deal...
SOH: I'll upgrade you to PBR...
Redneck Ray: Hmm... well, dog gonnit I always wanted to be one those hipster fellas... Let's do it brother!!!
Ray gets up to high five SOH and immediately passes out. SOH looks down at the drunk, and out of shape Ray and shakes his head...
SOH: Ugh... let's go Ray... we have a lot of work to do...
SOH throws Ray's arm over his shoulder and drags him away, he stops at the bar, and looks at the bartender...
SOH: You... um... you don't happen to know a guy named HEN do you?
Bartender: Son, I got plenty of hens, but ain't one of them a fella named HEN...
SOH: Thanks anyway...
The old grizzled bartender watches SOH drag Redneck Ray through the front door...
Bartender: Good lord.
Outside the bar, SOH loads a loaded Redneck Ray into the back of a Ford Pinto hatchback, and sets his GPS for Calgary...Alberta, Canada...
Last edited by SOH : 02-19-2014 at 04:12 AM.
SOH: Well Ray, here we are... Hart House!
Redneck Ray: God damn brother, if this is one of them damn Betty White clinics, I'm all set. I just like a beer now and again!
SOH:I think you mean Betty Ford, and no, this is the home where greats like Owen Hart, Bret Hart, Chris Jericho, Lance Storm, and Chris Ben...
Redneck Ray: What in Sam Hill are you driving a damn Pinto for anyway kid? Last I saw you had one of them B Mercedes W's!
SOH: I had to trade it in... let's just go knock on the door!
Redneck Ray: Hell I guess, but I don't get how Mary Hart can help us get PPW back together.
Knock Knock... the door opens and none other than Slappy opens!
Slappy: SOH! What the hell are you doing he...
Redneck Ray proceeds to knock out Slappy.
SOH: Ray what the hell is wrong with you?!
Redneck Ray: Hell, I never like that sumbitch!
SOH: Jesus Ray, kayfabe man!
Redneck Ray: No shit huh? Hell I'm sorry man.
Ray and SOH revive Slappy...
Slappy: Uh... WOAH STAND BACK!
SOH: It's cool man, Ray just had a knee jerk reaction. He's a friend He's cool!
Slappy: He's got a strange way of showing it! How the hell did you guys find me here anyway?!
SOH: When I heard some mark bout Hart House, well... you're the first mark that came to mind.
Slappy: Oh, I assume you bought the Murphy Rec Center then right?
SOH: Yea, I made a big studio out of it, I have this CM Punk mural... forget that, that's not what were here for. We're trying to get a PPW reunion together.
Slappy: Reunion eh?
Slappy: A reunion... What's they pay eh?
SOH: I can get you 6 figures...
Redneck Ray: And beer!
SOH:Sure...staring a hole through Ray
Slappy: Hmm... well, I guess I don't have anything else going on. But I have one request...
SOH: Name it man.
Slappy: I can't be caught dead in a Pinto. We'll take my car!
SOH looked across the door yard at a wood grain station wagon.
Slappy: ... Yeah maybe... what of it?
SOH: Such a mark... anyway, we're headed to Great Britain...
Slappy: Haha, I've made some modifications, hop in...
SOH: Slappy... by chance, you haven't heard from HEN lately have you?
Slappy: Hen eh? Last I heard he was making a bid for TNA... but that's just a rumor.
Ray, SOH, and Slappy pile into the Wagon. Suddenly giant wood grain feathery wings emerge from the beastly station wagon as the trio takes flight, on a navigational flight path to jolly old England.
Last edited by SOH : 02-19-2014 at 05:01 AM.
SOH:...Where the fuck are we?
Slappy: Well, according to my GPS...
SOH: IT'S NOT A GPS!!! It's a PHOTOGRAPH of a GPS! And I'm just going out on a limb... but I DON'T think we're in ENGLAND!
SOH and Slappy look around at their surroundings. They see lush gardens, tall tree's, bright flowers, and a 1/2 mile long driveway leading to a huge home, and a sign that says "SHADY ACRES RETIREMENT HOME". As their view comes full circle back to the car, they see Ray with his arm leaning on the vehicle. His head is buried in his forearm that's holding him up against the car. His other hand is holding his dick while he's pissing on one of the wings.
Slappy: Hey what the fuck man!!! Slappy shoves Ray to the ground forcing him to piss all over himself.
Ray:Bah Gawd brother, what the hell you doin'?!
SOH: Take it easy Slap.
Slappy: His pissing all over Mordecai!
Slappy: My CAR!
Ray: Well, hell man, if you had a real GPS not a picture of one...
Slappy: That's a professionally done photograph of a top of the line navigational system you son of a bitch!
Slappy and Redneck Ray start shoving each other and get into a scuffle. SOH gets between them and breaks it up. Meanwhile the hood of Mordecai is open and the backside of a man in a blue terry cloth robe is sticking out of the engine area as he rummages through.
The geriatric then rummages through the back seat
SOH: Look old man, stay out of our stuff, we need someone to help us. We need information, for starters, where we are. Where's the staff around here?
Tiny Hooded Old Man Enjoying Retirement: Questions? Information? What information you seek?
SOH: We're wrestlers... PPW Wrestlers, and we're staging a reunion. We're looking for a great wrestling warrior...
Tiny Hooded Old Man Enjoying Retirement: Wars not make one great! Ahh... Thomer, you seek Thomer.
SOH: Thomer...Thomer's here???
Tiny Hooded Old Man Enjoying Retirement and Redneck Ray start struggling on a tug of war over a 16oz PBR. Ray gets bonked repeatedly over the head with a cane
Tiny Hooded Old Man Enjoying Retirement: MINE... MINE...
SOH: Oh, this is a waste of time, you don't even know who I am... I don't even know what were doing here!!! We're wasting our time!!!
Tiny Hooded Old Man Enjoying Retirement turns away, his face still shrouded.
Tiny Hooded Old Man Enjoying Retirement: The boy has no patience... there is much anger in him.
Ray: Who the hell is this old fucker talking to?
Tiny Hooded Old Man Enjoying Retirement: Too OLD! Too OLD to begin the training!
Slappy: Training? What the fuck? SOH let's go this old guy's nuts.
SOH: Yea... he's...crazy... Thomer? Thomer it's you isn't it. Thomer we need you're help! We're trying to get PPW back together!
SOH: We're ready for this! We're not afraid!
T.H.O.M.E.R: Oh, you will be...
The old man takes off his hood, and turns to face the 3 revealing none other than Thomer...
Thomer: You WILL Be...
Last edited by SOH : 03-06-2014 at 02:22 PM.
Slappy: Why's he talking like Yoda?
SOH: He's old... senile... and deranged... and I think he had plastic surgery. He kind of looks like a monkey. Where's Ray?
Slappy: He said something about chasing antique ass...
SOH: That's... disturbing... but I appreciate the old school approach. Speed up, he's getting ahead of us!
Thomer leads SOH and Slappy into a Daaaark hall.
Slappy: Ooh ! Mini-Trucker magazine.
Last edited by SOH : 03-12-2014 at 01:54 AM.
A sewer cap slides open in the middle of London, England, and Thomer emerges. He pulls SOH, then, Slappy, then... Redneck Ray up to the surface.
Slappy: I thought you went antiquing?
Redneck Ray: She didn't make it brother.
SOH: Thomer... thats the Old Bailey! You got us to England! How the...?
Thomer:... Jedi *Thomer winks*
Redneck Ray: Why the hell are we here anyway SOB?
SOH rolls his eyes
SOH: We're here for Jax!
Slappy: Isn't he from Arizona?
SOH: I dont think so...
The PPW Posse walks and chatters until...they see a man running from a building named Crockfords... and he's not alone. The man is followed by an angry mob.
Thomer: Is that Jax?
SOH: That's not Jax... it's... it's Grimey! Grimey, hey, GRIMEY!!!
As Len Grimey runs by, the group hears him scream...
Grimey: I have a gambling probleeeeeeeemmmmm...
SOH: We need to help him!
Redneck Ray: I'm on it brother!
Ray does a "horse whistle" and a donkey appears out of thin air surrounded by pink and purple fireworks.
Redneck Ray: Hi Ho BERTHA!
SOH: Bertha... but I thought Bertha was a...
Slappy: A what?
SOH: Never mind.
Redneck Ray and Bertha catch up with Grimey and saddle him up as Bertha grows a rhinestone unicorn horn and flames come out of the overweight donkeys ass as Ray and Grimey take off into the night sky. The angry torch waving mob then turns to SOH, Slappy, and Thomer, Slappy looks at SOH with wide eyes...
The woody with wings swoops in out of nowhere and chases after Redneck Ray, Grimey, and Bertha...
Thomer: Wooo Hoooo!!!
Slappy: I told you the GPS worked!!!
SOH: But it's just a photoooooooooooo....
Last edited by SOH : 03-12-2014 at 02:42 AM.
Bertha shoots off into the far reaches of outer space as Mordecai follows. Mordecai grows larger as it gets further into space, and catches up to Bertha, Grimey, and Ray, and the newly "transformed" Mordecai docks the three others.
SOH: What the hell did Stu Hart put together with this thing?
Slappy: He didn't put it together. He bought it. Some dude named Optimus something or other sold it to him.
Grimey, Ray, and Bertha then walk into the scene.
SOH: Grimey you have a lot to explain! What the hell...
Slappy: There will be time for that! We need to find a place to land and get a plan going!
SOH: You're right. Let's go down to that small moon.
Thomer: That's no moon... it's a space station...
Dwight Shrute swings his pick axe one last time, causing rocks to give way, and opened a large hole in the ground of what appears to be the ruins of an ancient temple, or possible the PPN arena. Probably the latter.
There is no response.
Dwight runs up to the back of a giant throne (made of many steel folding chairs melded together by NWAMike 2000's heat vision) in a dark room lit only by light streaming in from the newly made opening.
Dwight spins the chair around and gasps in horror to see Christopher Walken, former PPN owner hanging limp and lifelessly in the chair and dried up like a withered old husk.
Dwight: Boss? Are you still...
Walken: *cough* Get me a drink...
Dwight: I was prepared for this eventuality boss!
Dwight opens up his knapsack which turns out to be filled with red bottles of 'Blood of Corino'. 'Blood of Corino' used to be an expensive premium beverage, but the bottom fell out of the market after he bled so much that you could 4 bottles for a dollar in the freezer at any corner convinience store.
Walken: Glug glug glug... Ahh.. hits the spot...
Walken: I'm back baby!
Dwight: We've been looking for you, ever since the big accident. You've been gone so long that people were beginning to doubt you really ever existed.
Walken: What do you MEAN? We just had our PPN show! We litterally blew the roof off the joint!
Dwight: Yeah, you're not kidding. It never made air. The arena collapsed in on itself and we haven't seen you since!
Walken: Since? When it it?
Dwight: 2014 sir. You've been missing for 5 years. PPN is no more. Most of the roster is MIA.
Walken: 5 years? 5 goddamn years!? Dwight...what of PPW?
Dwight: Sir, there are rumours of a relaun...
Walken: Fuckin'-Freeman! I knew it. Let's ditch this bitch and get those fuckers!
Dwight: Can't sir. You're broke and all your assets have been pawned off. You've been down here so long that you were presumed dead.
Walken: A small setback, no worries. We can fix this! Loan me some of that office money...
Dwight: The office has been off the air for several years. You've been down here a really long time.
Walken: We'll start small. We've still got the belt. We can hold a small tournament to see who will challenge Alex Lena for the belt!
Dwight: Not possible sir. Alex Lena got pregnant and dissapeared. That was all kinds of drama... We held a battle royal to determine who the real father was. The results were the PPN arena, in the ruins of which we now stand, collapsing.
Walken: And the title?
Dwight: Alex Lena pawned it off to help pay for the damages...
Walken: To the arena? That's not..
Dwight: No sir, to Chilliwack. Lena's little freak nasty kids got loose and went Gremlins' all over town, turning it into an inhabitable waste-land.
Dwight: Yeah. I'd actually lay low if I were you. They are still pretty pissed, and are suing you for 23 billion Canadian dollars.
Walken walks up to the freshly dug hole and looks outside. The town of Chilliwack is burnt to a crisp and evacuated. A crew is building a Tim Horton's near what used to be the north-west corner of the PPN Arena.
Dwight: Off fighting Martians...
Walken: D222rk -
Dwight: You don't even want to know.
Walken: Redneck Ray?
Dwight: Last I read, he was drunk but SOH got him. He was about to go for broke and sign with TNA, but SOH saved the day...
Walken: Slappy? Good ol' reliable Citizen Slapnut?
Dwight: Not even crazy anymore!
Walken: Alex Lena?
Dwight: Perpetually pregnant.
Walken: We're doomed Dwight! At least we still have good ol' MAA! NWAMike 2000, the loyal postbot!
Dwight: Sorry to say it boss, but he moved on and went on to play the Wafflebot in the last Harold and Kumar flick...
Walken: Hollywood, you filthy whore... your allure once again prooves to be too much for us to handle!
Dwight: Then Freeman got him a job as a drone in Oblivion...
Walken: We are coming Freeman! I don't know how. I don't know when. But mark my words...
Just then several cars pull up outside and flashlights come streaming into the ruins.
???: Christopher Walken? Stay right where you are. This is Dudley Do-right of the RCMP! You are wanted for the destruction of Chilliwack, producing a bad wrestling program, and one moving violation.
Walken: COME DWIGHT! THROUGH THE WORMHOLE!
Last edited by that D222rk fellow : 03-31-2014 at 03:14 AM.