What you are about to witness is really, really bad writing. It's crass, rank, inappropriately unapologetic satire. This post represents my roleplay for Ultimate Wrestling. This is fictional writing for a fantasy pro wrestling organization. Enjoy, or not!
In Times Square New York City, a massive protest has been forming. Many diverse groups have organized themselves in cooperation together against an organization full of corruption, racism, violence, and hate speech. That organization they came out to protest is called Ultimate Wrestling; also known as UOW.
A balloon the size of a small trailer is floating above the crowd, being held down by a temporary stage area for speakers to rile up the crowd of protesters with a megaphone to repetitive songs that start with "Hey Hey, Ho Ho". Mimicking the pouty lips and bald head of President Rupert Mudcock, the giant balloon above has an undeniable porcine resemblance: hooves for hands and feet. The morbidly obese ferry balloon wears a business jacket and a sign on the back side under the squiggly tail, reading "INSERT MONEY HERE" over a suggestive coin slot.
A taxi pulls up to the curb of Times Square, and a slender young blonde with perfect teeth and hair emerges clacking across the pavement on a pair of pink four inch heels. Rose Johnston, Ring Announcer and spokesperson for UOW approaches the stage while dodging glares from stubble-faced, bra-less cows.
News media crews from the national television stations suddenly surround her, with none other than Dill La'Roasta, lead journalist from MNN Mainstream News Network shoving a mic in her way.
Dill La'Roasta: Rose, if I might, on behalf of the majority of the concerned citizens of America, I have a question for you. There is strong evidence that accusations that President Mudcock has been embezzling Russian money to help fund the McStrump campaign are mostly likely, in fact undeniably true. The death of Dwight Couch has been linked to a major international human rights violation, against regulations agreed upon by the UN of which the United States is bound by international law to adhere to. Dwight Couch was reportedly forced under threat of death to compete in a Death Tournament in North Korea, a country travel-banned, yet orchestrated covertly by Not-My-President McStrump. All of this was contracted initially by UOW President Mudcock, for which he profited greatly. Southern California and Western Washington were bombed by Kim Jung-Un's nuclear missiles due to UOW's interference with North Korea which has been on the brink of causing a world war for decades. Several---
Agitated by the lengthy speech, the former Pageant Queen, tries her best to be assertive and not appear too passive aggressive in front of the live cameras.
Rose Johnston: What exactly is your question Dill?
Dill La'Roasta: How can you allow employees of your company such as Kronin Reinhardt and Huckleberry to go about impersonating clearly racist personalities? Kronin is a German Facist, representing the most repulsive aspects of Macho Toxic Masculine European White culture, and Huckleberry is making a mockery of minorities, women, and immigrants by portraying the most disgusting aspects of uneducated, inbred, racist, nationalist white males. How do you explain allowing this slob to reign as your franchise champion, and the face of your company?
Rose Johnston: The views of the athletes on our roster do not represent--
Dill La'Roasta: Athletes?! You call these showboats athletes?! What are you going to say next? Wrestling isn't fake?
As Rose raises her voice to interject, they begin to argue over who is interrupting who, and who is being more rude and insulting to women. Insults begin to be tossed back and forth, and soon the protesters start to swell around them hurling profanity and threatening violence against Rose.
At this same moment, a vehicle zooms over the curb, nearly slamming into a herd of Kim Kardashian apparel clad sheep. The balking protesters slap the hood of the orange Dodge Charger, famously known as General Lee from the Dukes of Hazard. The news crew loses interest in the previous argument, and now zooms in on the driver behind the Union Jack emblazoned muscle car who nearly mowed down half a dozen pedestrians. He honks the horn, which plays the first 12 notes to the Confederate song Dixie, and aims a shotgun at the over-sized balloon embarrassingly mocking President Mudcock.
POP!
The wilted balloon cascades down to the earth.
The crowd becomes hostile.
Kicking out his driver's side door, Huckleberry jumps out onto his shiny new cowboy boots. He attempts a ridiculously aimed high boot kick, which fails miserably as his tight jeans contract along his knee and around his hips. In a much more practiced motion, he grabs the back of his belt-less jeans to only partially conceal the frightfully growing plumbers crack. A goblin green haired witch swats a black claw at Huckleberry's face, but he jumps back and retaliates with a wild swing of his heavy golden belt. The wicked witch back-flips with inhuman speed and grace, floating into a handspring on an Ogre's back who helps her magically land defensively ten people deeper away.
Dill La'Roasta squirms his way through attempting to calm the situation down enough to further humiliate the UOW with some questions aimed at the champion. Rose Johnston slips in behind Huckleberry, and holds him back from further violence. She whispers in his ear.
Rose Johnston: Careful Huck. If we screw this up, our whole company could go belly up. Show them why you're the champ. Make them love you, not hate you.
Huckleberry: Alright, alright. Uncle Huck didn't come here for a fight. I juss heard ya on the radio, and thought ya be needin' some help s'all.
The Huckster turns around to show the cameras his cutt-off t-shirt that reads as follows...
For Walter Reagan! đŸ’– Your Veterans! Lived. Died. Served Our Country Bravely!
Dill La'Roasta: Mr. Huckleberry--
Huckleberry: Juss call me Huck. Huck's fine. I ain't no Mister.
Dill La'Roasta: Very enlightening for you refer to yourself in a more gender neutral formal manner, and I commend you for that, but I wanted to ask you about your past match, as well as your upcoming match. In your past match you faced Abbigail Dresden, Valora Salinas, and Takuma Sato in a four way wrestling match for the championship in which you clearly cheated to win. And in your upcoming tag match--
Huckleberry: No such thing as cheatin' in a Hell in the Cell match. Can't help it if a person's head happens to hit a monkey wrench. Accidents happen every day, know what I mean?
Dill La'Roasta: That sounds like a threat. Are you threatening me?
Huckleberry: Hell no! If I was threatening ya, I'd say, "Step off or I'll shine ya up so bad with an Indian Burn, you'll be crying Oh Shenandoah tonight on the jon all night long."
Dill La'Roasta: Aren't you concerned that fighting people who identify as women in a wrestling match might make you a poster child for toxic masculinity, white male privilege, and white nationalist supremicism? You are driving the General Lee for Christ's sake! Are you making a mockery of African American slavery.
Huckleberry: Yeah, so what? The South was going to free the slaves until the Northern War of Aggression stopped 'em from doin' it.
Dill La'Roasta: No, I think you got it backwards. The North freed the slaves, not the South.
Huckleberry: And Abe Lincoln was a Democrap, right? Look, if you want to find the sickle and hammer and swastika tattoos on me, you won't find any. Bald Eagles and Stars and Stripes, that's all I got. Valora Salinas on the other hand, I'm not so sure. I'm sick and tired of her walking around like she's the best thing that ever walked around without a pair of massive meatballs hanging between her legs. Dem Witchy Doctors can help'r fill the sadness void between her legs nowadays if'n she wants. They'll take her money, and somehow it's all legal. When I go down to the motel with a hired girl to fill her void, we get hauled into the station to spend a night behind bars, and I don't mean the kind that offer free drinks. Call that fair?
Facing the camera, the redneck rebel resorts to finger pointing. Three stooges behind him faint, triggered half to death.
Huckleberry: Funny that you mentioned cheating... let's talk about all the cheap shots those women nailed me with. I ought to file sexual harassment charges against both Valora Salinas and Abbigail Dresden for nailing me in the nuts so many times. And then I ought'ta take 'em to one of those high'r courts, and charge 'em with massive genocide against all the unborn children I could'v impregnated all my second cousins with. How am I supposed to check myself for testicular cancer when touchin' my luvnuts makes me too queezy to eat a Taco Bell burrito?
Dill La'Roasta: You are nothing more than a masturbating, disgusting pervert! I feel sorry that the rightful champion has to stoop so low to face you in a pointless tag-team match, only to be sexually molested by you and humiliated on national television. Your entire TV network should be pulled off the air, and you should be locked in jail permanently for the disgusting fraudster that you are!
A green bus with rainbows and weed decals on it pulls in alongside General Lee. The driver waves to Rose Johnston with a twisted twinkle in her eye. It's none other than her rival, M.O.X Sports reporter Holly Hudson. The folding door of the bus opens, and a truckload of dozens of heavyweight clowns funnel out impossibly from the narrow opening.
Huckleberry: WUT-IN-TAR-NAY-SHUN! This ain't the Marvel Universe Comic Con. Why'r all these mutants... oh... uh-oh!
The bus driver rolls down her window to taunt her rival from above.
Holly Hudson: Hope you don't mind Rose. I came to crash your party. Meet the refugees from the nuclear fallout zone of Los Angeles. Some of them weren't to happy when they found out their home-town hero, Valora Salinas was defeated by an untrained, inbred, white male nationalist. They're here to help set the record straight, and get their revenge.
A kid standing outside the bus with goggly eyes and a loose limp leg he is dragging pauses to drool. It puddles the pavement with an ongoing stream.
Huckleberry: They got some kind of a zombie infestation in LA, or somethin'?
Rose Johnston: Yes they do, but I don't think he's from the bus. Glandular problem.
One of the brutes from the bus, a purple-haired-people-eater tears a trash bin free of the concrete and rushes to ram Huckleberry in the gut. The runty hillbilly does a back-somersault, and monkey-flips the behemoth onto a pile of pubescent tweens behind him. The can flops over onto Dill La'Roasta, encasing him in a heap of Starbucks paper straws.
Following mutant one, a rock-chested giant man in a dress stomps out and grabs hold of Huckleberry's ankle. With a one-handed overhead swing, the thing slams Huckleberry into the pavement, and uses the bounce to throw him into a reverse overhead swing in the pavement on the other side. A third time, the she/he-hulk swings him up into the air, and a whole section of the crowd backs away for the incoming aftermath.
Huckleberry: Aiyeeeeeee!
Bleeding, bruised, and broken in all the wrong places, Huckleberry flies up into the air again, but this time Huckleberry flexes his ribs and positions his arms for an elbow drop. Somehow he manages to throw the momentum of the swing so that he lands a massively super-charged elbow drop onto the unsuspecting devil witch who tried to claw his eyes out earlier. Her striped socks curl back over her feet as if a house dropped on her.
The remaining X-gene mutants surround Huckleberry in a closing circle. Many of them touting dangerous weapons such as mace, needles, medical grade scalpels, genetically-modified gluten snack cakes, and eggs from hens that were not raised free-range.
Huckleberry: Mighty familiar. Feels like wur'n North Korea all over 'gain.
Huck reaches through the door of his car and grabs the radio mouthpiece to make a final distress call.
Huckleberry: Iron Fist, calling Iron Fist... mayday mayday! This is Barry White requesting back-up, on the double. I repeat! Barry White requesting backup at Times Square. If I don't make it out alive, tell my kids my ex-wife took everything in the divorce. Truth is I spent everything on my car, beer, and smokes. Lord forgive me! You can write that on my tombstone. You got all that? Over and out!
A lanky armed orangutan bearhugs Huckleberry, suffocating him between a pair of gravity burdened breasts.
Using what he learned in his last fight against Sato, he shakes his forearms to tone his fingers. However, instead of going for a debilitating nerve pinch, he plucks the armpit hairs out from underneath the beast, forcing it to release its grip in an instinctual shriek of pain. Huckleberry rolls around on the sidewalk in a fetal position with hands covering his ears as the shrieks become louder.
Sirens blare, and riot police now arrive on the scene spraying fumes of teargas into the crowd. Huckleberry sucks his thumb and rocks back and forth as four riot officers commence to beat him with bobbi clubs and kick him with steel toed boots.
Huckleberry: Momma! Make the nightmare end!
#ewrestling #efed #uow #ultimatewrestling #wrestling #comedy #short-story #shortstory #story #writing #fiction #roleplay #rp #creative #creative-writing #creativewriting #dukesofhazard #general-lee
Photo of General Lee is credited to this article, featuring the cast and car from the original TV Show: The Dukes of Hazard: countryrebel.com - DUKES OF HAZZARD CAR, ‘GENERAL LEE’, TO BE STRIPPED OF CONTROVERSIAL CONFEDERATE FLAG
Thank you for reading my original writing. This is a fictional satire, and my roleplay submission for Ultimate Wrestling.
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