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~~Brandon Moore~~ · (01-20-2017)

Savage Saturday Night takes place within the confines of Dealey Plaza. The area in Dallas, Texas is etched in the annals of American history. One of the most important and devastating moments in television and American history took place in the plaza. The 35th president of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, was assassinated almost 65 years ago. The assassination did not take place on live television, but it changed and molded the way media coverage would be handled throughout the remainder of time.

As on that day, the Dallas weather is fair. A t-shirt and jeans would suffice. That is exactly what Brandon is wearing, a pair of jean and a Children of Bodom t-shirt. He strolls through the grassy knoll near which the assassination took place. This is the same grassy knoll he is set to do battle on against Doctor Louis D’Ville.

“Savage Saturday Night may just end up having a lot of similarities to that fateful day of November 22, 1963. ‘Back and to the left. Back and to the left. Back and to the left.’ Does any of this mean something to you, Doctor D’Ville?”

Brandon points from his spot on the grass toward Elm Street, just before the Texas School Book Depository.

“Right there is where John Fitzgerald Kennedy’s brains were splattered throughout his Lincoln Continental. Now, I’m an American man. I love my country and I am in no way trying to make light of JFK’s assassination, but Doc, you’re going to be the JFK of the XWF. You claim to be our king. You claim to be the Big Bad Wolf of this federation. Wolves and kings all fall eventually, my friend.”

Brandon decides to take a seat on the grass, soaking in the lovely Dallas weather after having spent some time in Antarctica. He surveys the area, attempting to imagine what it would have been like to attend the motorcade viewing and witness the assassination.

“Kennedy’s last conversation was with Governor John Conally’s wife, Nellie. She turned and said, ‘Mr. President, you can’t say Dallas doesn’t love you.’ In response, JFK said, ‘No, you certainly can’t.’ Those were the last words the man ever muttered. He had no idea his life would end that day. He never in a million years thought his head would meet a bullet during his presidency of the United States of America.

You’re in luck, though, Doc. I’m giving you plenty of warning. Make your last conversation meaningful. Choose your last words carefully. The assassination of Doctor Louis D’Ville will undoubtedly occur on January 21, 2017. You have a decent amount of time left to say your goodbyes. You’ll be able to write your last will and testament. And maybe, just maybe, with the knowledge of your imminent demise, you’ll actually be able to enjoy yourself for once.”

Brandon now lies back on the grass, staring at the clouds, with his hands interlocked behind his head.

“We all know that the man who shot him was Lee Harvey Oswald. It was said he acted alone as a communist sympathizer. He pulled the trigger to shut down a communist opponent in JFK. What a reason, huh? Everyone is quick to pull the trigger, but hesitant to speak. You’ve spoken. I’ve spoken. It’s easy to see that there will be no compromise laid out on the table. The trigger has to be pulled.

They might as well call our match up a brutal reenactment. I’ll be the Lee Harvey Oswald to your John Fitzgerald Kennedy. There won’t be any communism involved. There won’t be any political differences. The simple reason is because the XWF wants it to happen. They’ve made the match. They’ve made your bed. Now, I’m going to put you to sleep in it. This is what Havoc does. This is what I do. Be ready for your bullet in the head.”

Brandon inhales deeply as he rolls over onto his stomach and pushes himself to his feet. He holds up his hands, gesturing the entirety of the grassy knoll he stands on.

“It could happen anywhere, Doc. That’s what falls count anywhere means. This grassy knoll will be my playground. It will be your prison. At any moment, in any part of this knoll, the bullet will end up piercing your skull and ending your reign of tyranny. You won’t make it to Wednesday Warfare to defend your Tag Team Championship against me and Ronnie Cage. Your precious Unknown Soldier will be left blubbering at the sight of his only friend being slaughtered.

And the best part? I’ll get away with it. There will be no reason to run. There will be no reason to duck into a theater. I won’t be captured by the police. I will not have a Jack Ruby to return the favor. This time around, the assassin will be labeled the hero. The world will be a much better place without Doctor Louis D’Ville.”

Brandon begins to walk down the grassy knoll towards the sidewalk next to Elm Street, just a few steps from where JFK was shot.

“Let’s recreate history, shall we?”

Brandon makes a gun with one finger and points it at the camera.

“Pow.”

He pulls the finger gun up to his mouth and blows on it like it were a real pistol.

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