Post by Mike Musket on Aug 25, 2018 14:34:24 GMT -5
Mike comes out the locker room fresh as a daisy in a field o’ dreams. Yeah he’s chewing himself some AROOOOO! Kobe Beef jerky and by god it’s good. He throws the pouch in his dusty satchel, does another notch up in his belt, and walks on down the hall.
“Damn. That was some good beef jerky.”
Reporters swarm him like bees on a candy cane’s ass, yelling and talking that Japanese at him. Mike throws up his hands.
“The Hell y’all yammerin on about?”
Some bookworm looking dork sumbitch steps up to him a-speaking the English language finally. “Mike Musket, you will not make it to the next round of the J1. Are you disappointed?”
Mike yawns and then shakes his head.
“Lookee here, Mustang Sally. Me and Hammerswine go a hell of a way back. Yeah, we’ve exchanged some harsh words me and him. And lemme say this, if he winds up going all the way in the J1 and then beats up on my good buddy Zenki? Well, you know I’ll be first up in line like a young-un waiting up fer Country Santa on Christmas morning.”
That reporter takes a step back and a damn near identical one takes his place.
“There are still difficult matches ahead. What do you have to say to your opponents?”
Mike chuckles.
“Mister Reporter, you must not know me too good so let me give ya a lil schoolin. See, they call me ‘Mighty Fine’ Mike Musket. And I’m the grapplin’ fool yer pappy warned ya about when you set out there in the world. Cause if you wanna tussle with me, I’ll run ya up a goddamn tree!”
He laughs again but then gets serious.
“Lemme tell ya something I know. I know that in these next couple matches I’mma be standin across from that ole Jun Vegas. Now back in my old startin days when I was just a young buck, I wrestled out there in them western states for a company called Top Notch, plucked me right outta the Washoe county fair when I was hookin’ n holdin’ just to make ends meet. I spent a lot o’ time round Las Vegas and I’ll tell ya, that there city is a rin tin sin bin! But it got god fearin folks just like any another, so I ain’t putting down nobody no sir.”
He raises a fist.
“But listen up here June Bug Vegas. I’ve squished me a June bug on a many a hot summer’s eve and I don’t plan on goin’ easy on ya. See, I got more hooks than New York City got derelict hobos. I got so many holds, bubba I can keep ya on hold longer than the damn cable company during an office picnic. Yessir, now I know you’re a big sumbitch, big as a California redwood. But see here I’m a top o’ the line lumberjack now, and I’m used to choppin’ wood and buildin’ me a damn fire to stay warm through the night. See June Bug, I’mma tryin to find somethin’ out.”
He leans in and so do the reporter folk.
“I’mma see if you’re a buttermilk bitch.”
He nods triumphant-like.
“I hope you’ll excuse the language. But see, I like ya June Bug. And we got to have this here showdown, get it out of our system, and then maybe we can give them Demon Brigade sumbitches a run fer their money. But if you’re a buttermilk bitch, well hell I’mma need and find me another partner in crime. But me, I’m tired of seein’ them fellas struttin and hollerin about. Yessir, it’s time to jump back up on the horse and give em Hell!
He gives ‘em all the big ole country grin and slaps his dusty satchel.
“And I think I got me a batch o’ Hell to spare right here! AROOOOOOOOOOO!!”
Mike powers up and takes off through the crowd of reporters, leaving em all in his dust as he tracks out on a course up toward victory…
“Damn. That was some good beef jerky.”
Reporters swarm him like bees on a candy cane’s ass, yelling and talking that Japanese at him. Mike throws up his hands.
“The Hell y’all yammerin on about?”
Some bookworm looking dork sumbitch steps up to him a-speaking the English language finally. “Mike Musket, you will not make it to the next round of the J1. Are you disappointed?”
Mike yawns and then shakes his head.
“Lookee here, Mustang Sally. Me and Hammerswine go a hell of a way back. Yeah, we’ve exchanged some harsh words me and him. And lemme say this, if he winds up going all the way in the J1 and then beats up on my good buddy Zenki? Well, you know I’ll be first up in line like a young-un waiting up fer Country Santa on Christmas morning.”
That reporter takes a step back and a damn near identical one takes his place.
“There are still difficult matches ahead. What do you have to say to your opponents?”
Mike chuckles.
“Mister Reporter, you must not know me too good so let me give ya a lil schoolin. See, they call me ‘Mighty Fine’ Mike Musket. And I’m the grapplin’ fool yer pappy warned ya about when you set out there in the world. Cause if you wanna tussle with me, I’ll run ya up a goddamn tree!”
He laughs again but then gets serious.
“Lemme tell ya something I know. I know that in these next couple matches I’mma be standin across from that ole Jun Vegas. Now back in my old startin days when I was just a young buck, I wrestled out there in them western states for a company called Top Notch, plucked me right outta the Washoe county fair when I was hookin’ n holdin’ just to make ends meet. I spent a lot o’ time round Las Vegas and I’ll tell ya, that there city is a rin tin sin bin! But it got god fearin folks just like any another, so I ain’t putting down nobody no sir.”
He raises a fist.
“But listen up here June Bug Vegas. I’ve squished me a June bug on a many a hot summer’s eve and I don’t plan on goin’ easy on ya. See, I got more hooks than New York City got derelict hobos. I got so many holds, bubba I can keep ya on hold longer than the damn cable company during an office picnic. Yessir, now I know you’re a big sumbitch, big as a California redwood. But see here I’m a top o’ the line lumberjack now, and I’m used to choppin’ wood and buildin’ me a damn fire to stay warm through the night. See June Bug, I’mma tryin to find somethin’ out.”
He leans in and so do the reporter folk.
“I’mma see if you’re a buttermilk bitch.”
He nods triumphant-like.
“I hope you’ll excuse the language. But see, I like ya June Bug. And we got to have this here showdown, get it out of our system, and then maybe we can give them Demon Brigade sumbitches a run fer their money. But if you’re a buttermilk bitch, well hell I’mma need and find me another partner in crime. But me, I’m tired of seein’ them fellas struttin and hollerin about. Yessir, it’s time to jump back up on the horse and give em Hell!
He gives ‘em all the big ole country grin and slaps his dusty satchel.
“And I think I got me a batch o’ Hell to spare right here! AROOOOOOOOOOO!!”
Mike powers up and takes off through the crowd of reporters, leaving em all in his dust as he tracks out on a course up toward victory…