This post is a fictional writing roleplay, and a complete satire. This is my submission for the UOW roleplay contest. In the bottom of this post, you can learn more about UOW, and how to participate.
Alone in a cell.
The lights were flickering. The frost on the walls made his breath come out in plumes of crystal smoke. Bent over in defeat, he had one single focus.
Huckleberry started singing.
"On top of spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatball,
When somebody sneezed."
Huckleberry: Holy Mackerel, I gotta know what kind of soap they use on this here crapper. Cleanest crapper in the seven kingdoms, I guaran-damn-tee it.
SLURP, SLURP, SLURP
Huckleberry: Well I'll be a my mother's uncle, even the water's cleaner than a baby's bottom. Tastes better than a Aquafina served in a frosty mug. I could make a mighty fine moonshine right here with this here sparklin' crapper water. Looks like I straight up died and gone to heaven. Damn, if I really wuz in heaven, eyed ask Gawd fer a ball a frod chickin, a case of Jack Daniels, a pack of cigarettes. Eyed ruther be in hell then go cold turkey.
SLURP, SLURP, SLURP
A security guard walks by and gasps when he sees the hillbilly's crack smiling above his drawers. When he realizes that the redneck wrestler is drinking water out of the toilet, he blows a whistle. Another security guard arrives on the scene, equally flabbergasted.
Security Guard #50291: Yol stoppa drink watel! Notta fol consulption.
Security Guard #90343: Our order. Strick diet. No watel. No foot. No slep. In two week, you fot Kim Ji-Min. Den you go home fwee.
Standing up, Huckleberry faces the guards and starts laying them down low with his best chosen words.
Huckleberry: Naw ya listen to me ya dimple cheek Jugheads. First vall, I only fart win I'm eatin' beans and broccoli, and I ain't had needer of them. I tried Kimchee once, and it gave me the runs for six days, and on the seventh day, I prayed on the porcelain throne all day long, and then I rested.
The country bumpkin clears his throat of something nasty, and spits a brown stain on the cement floor.
Huckleberry: Holy hell, I'm just gettin' warmed up. See, I got a fat coming up, and its says its gonna involve explosives. Son, I been a certified explosives expert before you was in diapers. Mammy said I shot out between her legs faster'n a pipe bomb in a mailbox. Win I wuz three, my daddy gave me cherry bombs fer my birthday. Win I wuz five, daddy knocked out my baby teeth in one shot wif uh beer bottle, a bottle cap, a mountain dew, and handful of Pop Rocks. Win I wuz non, daddy showed me how to take out gophers with a sticka dynamite and a cigarette. Win I wuz fourteen, my cousin tried to do me in when she found out I'd been foolin' round with her momma, and she stuck a loaded cap gun in her---
Security Guard #50291: No, no, no! You fot Kim Ji-Min. You da.
The security guards laugh and point at poor Huckleberry.
Huckleberry: Oh yeah?
SPLU-UUU-URG-GEE
The guards shudder in horror, pinching their noses and waving their hands frantically in the air. Guard #90343 passes out.
Huckleberry: See what you dun asked for? You wanna fart? Well, that there was the Chef's Special. Only gunna git worse if you ask me to eat that Kimchee once agin. So you listen to me, and listen good. I git a phone call. I got rats ya see. One phone call. I know my rats.
The security guard hits a red button on the wall. Sirens start screaming. More guards in uniform arrive. The gate opens to the cell, and they start wailing on Huckleberry with batons. He continues singing the meatball song for quite some time enduring kicks, punches, and hits across his entire body. Eventually he stops moving. He stops singing.
Three of the guards starts waving their hands frantically in the air and run.
They fall over unconsciousness not far from Huckleberry.
Silent, but deadly.
Two hours later...
Inside a white room with bright fluorescent lights, Huckleberry is bent over once again, this time seated with his head smooshed down on a table. A Korean with a badge labeled Captain #47377 stands over watching him. On the wall, a set of speakers loudly vocalize a dull voice from somewhere unseen.
Speakers: Wok heem op.
The captain nods to the mirror wall, and uncorks a vial which he waves under the dumb SOB's nostrils. In and instant, Huckleberry's bloodshot eyes shoot open.
Huckleberry: Charnelle? Charnelle?
He slams his fist on the table.
Huckleberry: Corn! Wide ye hafta wake me up? I wuz dreamin' my niece was bowta tell me she upgraded the comcast to watch NASCAR on ESPN. I think you owe me un explantion!
Captain #47377: Why you say you have wats in your cell?
Huckleberry: I ain't got no critters. If I did, I'd be the ferst ta know.
Captain #47377: You said wats. We find no wats in your cell. Why you say you have wats? You hide wats? You eat wats?
Huckleberry: Sir, you gotta hearing problem? I ain't said I had any critters. If I did, eyed uh shared 'em with yer poor starvin' families, and put some food on the damn table for a change. All I said, is I want my phone call. I git one phone call. You know it. I know it. Can't lock me up wit'out giving me my damn phone call. I know my rats.
Captain #47377: ....
BZZZZZZZZzzzzz
The buzzer opens the door and a man carrying an old style black rotary phone enters. He places it on the table.
Speakers: One call Mista Huckrabally. Then bok to cell.
The idiot grabs the phone and puts it to his ear. He taps the switch hook, and dials zero, and starts hollering.
Huckleberry: Hello? Hello? Operator? I wanna speak to... to the King of Nigeria!
The guard captain chuckles.
Huckleberry: Quit yer jabberin'. This is a gen-u-won e-mer-gen-cee! You git the King of Nigeria on the phone, err mark ma werds. McStrump is gonna order the next Atlas of the world to be re-drawn without this pig sty of a country on the map.
Silence.
Suddenly a voice with a terribly fake accent responds from the phone.
Phone: Hulloo? Dis is Kong of Nojirya.
Huckleberry: Ahh, now we're tawkin'! My name is Huckleberry, and ah um ready to give you my bank account numba so you kin deposit the four million, seven hundred thousand, nine hundred euros ye promised me last week in an email proposition correspondence. My numba is ten-forty-five-double O-niner...
#ewrestling #efed #uow #ultimatewrestling #wrestling #comedy #short-story #shortstory #story #writing #fiction #roleplay #rp
Thank you for reading my original writing. This is a fictional satire, and my roleplay submission for Ultimate Wrestling.
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