Sunday April 4th, 2015
Bluegrass Airport
Paducah, KY

Muddy pulls up to the terminal, blaring Alan Jackson, his daughter Dolly is in the passenger seat with her earphones on listening to Taylor Swift or some shit. Muddy finishes chugging down his last Miller Highlife, crushes it and tosses it in the back where there is already a heaping pile of smashed beer cans.

“Come on Dolly baby, you and daddy gunna’ be flyin’ tonight!”

Dolly looks irritated and rolls her eyes as the two head inside the airport and board thier flight.

“Uuuuhhhh this is yer’ captian speakin’, like to thank each and every one of yah’ for flyin’ Redneck Air this afternoon. I’ve done had me bout’ six daiquiris, so a little turbulence is expected…”

“Six?!? Boy you’s a doin some Amish countin’ there”

“Shut the hell up Bobby… and tell that stewardess to bring her ass in here and sit on my lap. Err, Mhh ehhmm, But yes ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be arriving in Cincinnati International in less than an hour. Please enjoy your flight.”

Muddy makes his way over to his seat where Dolly is already sitting near the window, she’s lightly singing some Taylor Swift lyrics and nodding her head with her eyes closed. Muddy stand there and gazes at her, so proud of the little lady he’s raised.

“Oh, excuse me sir…”

A kind Australian accent mutters out as Muddy is nearly knocked over by an enormous set of breasts. He looks up to see a big blonde headed stewardess, as the two lock eyes, Muddy instantly thinks about locking up with her lips. She miles and blushes at him…



“Not a problem little lady…what’s that accent you got there? California?”

She giggles,

“No I’m from Australia.”

“AUSTRALIA!?! Hell that’s like 500 miles away from here!!!”

She oddly looks at him, but finds Muddy attractive and giggles again,

“A lot further than that sugar. So…”

She runs her eyes up and down Muddy’s tone body,

“…What do you do for a living?”

“Well, funny you asked… I just recently changed careers, I’m a professional rassler’ now.”

“Wow… a wrestler? You must be… very, very strong.”

She grabs Muddy’s arm and moves closer toward him, her mouth open and tongue rolling out and around her lips.

“Baby you can bet your ass I am… I bet I’d even pick your ass up.”

“…And I bet, no, no, I know you’d like it. You ever heard of the mile high club?”

“Little lady, I know where yer’ going with this… I’d be damn happy to oblige you.”

….
……..
………….

Patrons on the plane look around puzzled as their vessel begins rocking and shaking violently.

“Uuuhhh this is yer’ captain speaking again. Uuuuhhh we’re about 30 minutes out of Cincinnati, and there aint no visible whether conditions but we’re experiencing extreme turbulence. Please brace yourselves for the possibility of… OOWW! Bitch I thought I told ya’ to take them denchers out whore! …Excuse me, the possibility of emergency landing procedures.”

The breathing assistance air bags drop in each seat, one smacks Dolly in the face who is still just listening to her earphones with her eyes closed nodding her head. From the restroom in the back some loud moaning can be heard…

“That’s right! Fuck me like I’m your cousin Gomer Pile!!!”

“Oohh bay-be!!! You like my shrimp on yer’ Barbie!?!”

“OOOOOHHHHH YESSSSSSSSS!!!!”

The plane lands safely… somehow. Muddy and Dolly walk out of the airport and flag down a taxi…

“Dolly baby, yer’ daddy feels like a new man…”

He’s grinning ear to ear,

“They’s suuuurrreee right when they’s said ‘the bigger the berry, the better the juice’.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the saying.”

Sunday, April 12th, 2015
Outside of U.S. Bank Arena
Cincinnati, Ohio

We see Steve Sayors, accompanied by an XWF Camera man. Steve looks frantic, and as if he's searching for something, quite possibly of which may be his dignity.

“Quick! Over here!”

Steve hollers at the camera, he's noticed someone coming up from beside the arena, it's none other than Muddy Waters!

Muddy looks frazzled and sweaty, his sunglasses covering his sure to be red and bewildered eyes. He's holding a nearly emptied fifth of liquor, a half smoked cigarette hanging from his lip.

“Muddy Waters! Muddy Waters! Steve Sayors, XWF… Can we have a moment of your time?!?”

Steve pounces on Muddy like a damned Jehovah's Witness on a Section 8 Housing's doorbell. Muddy jumps a little and turns around, looking at Steven, then the camera, then back at Steve,

“Well I'll be damned... ol' Steve Sayors! They still keep you on the payroll? Hell with it, what can Muddy Waters do for you Steve?”

“Muddy, we've all just heard Cohen Horne's promo he shot on you… Have you watched it yet? Do you have a response for Mr. Horne?”

“Yeah...Cohen Horne, I'll say this first, I'm damn glad he finally decided to show his face- I'd almost thought the son ova' bitch had cowered out.”

“You're glad Muddy?”

“Damn glad Steve… You see Muddy Waters didn't really want his first match in XWF to be a complete wash out. As ah' life long fan of this here sport called rasslin', I've grown to appreciate great moments in that there ring… there's a certain poetry to watchin' two men lay it all on the line in front of a jammed packed arena, goin' toe ta' toe, blow fer' blow, until the best man is left standin'.

I'm damn glad to know that Mr. Horne is at least gunna' give er' a try against ol' Muddy Waters… hell as I said before, last time I'd seen his ass on T.V. he was getting' that ass kicked all over that ring at Lethal Lottery 3.”

“...alright, so his promo, you did get a chance to watch it?”

“Yeah I just listened to it a couple hours ago. You ever seen that there film 'No Country for old Men' Steve Sayors?”

“..Yes...but...”

“Well his promo reminded me a lot of that there film, you know where that there Josh Brolin fellar dies early on when we think he's gunna' be our hero and all? Then in the end Tommy Lee Jones gives that monologue about this here ever changin' world and how he don't like livin' in a world he has no control over?”

“Wow, monologue, I'm surprised you'd know what that means… but I don't see any relation to...”

Muddy snatches the mic from Steve's hand,

“Listen here Steve Sayors, let Muddy Waters talk for justa' damn moment, I believe you've talked enough… forget about the movie, Muddy Waters is gunna' talk about Cohen Horne.

You know what Cohen Horne? You can call Muddy Waters ah' loser til' the cows come home, it don't make a damn bit ah' difference to me… fact of the matter is, Muddy Waters aint even been in the damn ring yet- so weather or not Imma' be a loser here is an unanswerable question you Brit fuck. On the other side we've got you, who as I just plainly stated has been trendin' in a downward spiral since he got here. First ya' barely pull a win against that Hero God thing and Mastermind, then you move on to the PPV and have yer' ass handed to ya' ina' hot skillet.

Ya' go on about this an that, blah blah bullshit about how ya' hate to be the one to dash my dreams? Brother this aint the Eurythmics, Fleetwood Mac or Martin Luther King J.R., Muddy Waters aint got no goddamned dreams… matter of fact I don't know that I've ever dreamed in my life. I told you and every other motherfucker who was ah' listen the other day what in the hell Muddy Waters was here for, and that's to kick ass, raise hell and make money- and bein' the Pride of Pike Co. aint ah' damned delusion… They wrote newspaper articles on me. Aint been a single son ova' bitch this side of the Mississippi been locked up more times for P.I. and Disorderly Conduct than Muddy Waters.

I heard ya' ass get all fidgety too… I guess when yer' so damn used to lookin' so gay, bein' called gay, and doin' gay things that you just automatically suspect a guy like Muddy Waters is gunna' call ya' gay.
Well how about you go rewind the tape Horne, never once did Muddy Waters call yah' gay- I know yer' insecure about it and all wearin' that purdy little scarf… but in church, though the good Lord don't approve of all that man on man ass poundin'- I'm not supposed to judge ya' for it… makes me ah wonder just a bit how much you even paid attention to a word I said.

Maybe that's why there's a good chance you'll lose on Mud-Day Night Madness, cause it was Sun Tzu that said some shit about respectin' yer enemies and bein their friends or some shit… rumor has it that fellar won a lot of battles.

Generic Jude Law Said:“You still think you're the hero. You're not even the villain.”

...Hey Cohen, it's what we in the rasslin' world have always, ALWAYS called bein' a tweener, I'd thought that even as out of place as you are that you'd at least heard of it from time ta' time. Guess I'd given ya' ah' a bit too much credit. See here's the thing Cohen, rasslin', has and always will be Muddy's life- it's only fittin' now that Muddy is finally strappin' up his boots and runnin' the ropes. Sorry for yer' cricket playin' ass yer' steppin' right out in front of me and gunna' be the first one I have ta' run down.

Ya' see Muddy Waters don't fire no damn blanks that's for sure, you orta' see some of the heads of them there critters of the wilderness I have mounted on my trailer… Cohen Horne yer next in line boy. I can just sit here all damn day- spittin' back, rippin' apart every little thing you said about ol' Muddy Waters, but what in the hell is the point? At the end of the day, come tomorrow Muddy Waters is gunna' beat the ever lovin' piss outta' ya' and there aint ah' damn thing you can do about it.

So you just be ah' good little bitch and stick to the script will yah? Tell Muddy what it'll be… Sleeper? Crossface? Boston Crab? Sharpshooter? How about the little move I like to call the Pissin Pot? What move you want Muddy to lock in once I've beaten yer ass to a pulp and yer then ready to give up like the little English Muffin, scarf wearin' pansy you are? Mudy will be sure happy to oblidge ya'… Cohen I want you to bear in mind, that sometimes you eat the bear, and well, sometimes the bear will eat you. This bear is starvin' you stupid son ova' bitch… how hungry are you?

Mud-Day Night aint gunna' be the start of Cohen Horne's redemption story, no, no it'll be the story about how this simple ol' country bumpkin from Pike Co. Kentucky traveled up to Cincinnati, Ohia' and shoved his size twelve boot right up Winston Churchill's tight ass- leavin' the Queen blushin' in her undies and London Bridges burnin' down. The goose sure is gunna' be hangin' high, and that's the bottom line boy.”

Muddy hands the mic back to Steve, but before he can say anything…

“MUUUUDDDDYYYY WE LOVE YOU!”

A car drives by with a woman hanging out of the window, flashing her breasts. Muddy guzzles down the rest of his whiskey…

“Well boys that’s cue… sure was nice talkin' with ya' fellas.”

“But Muddy wait, that's just the local transient transvestite...”

“Trans AM Transformer? What?”

“No.. no, Muddy, wait...”

“Sorry boys, nature is ah' callin'”

The camera fades with Muddy walking off into the distance...