“Muddy. Be good... please.”

“Nah it’s Johnny B. Goode. At there song by Marty J. Fox he sang with one hand durrin the enchantment under the sea dance when he tried to stop his daddy from becomin his brother too. You knowd ats based off’a true story back home? Deez ol boys tha Fitzgerald’s. One of em was a one handed banjo picker named Handy Randy Fitzgerald who started bangin his momma and-“

“Muddy! What in the fuck are you talking about man?”

“The damned ol’ song”

Muddy turned up the radio just as a baroque guitar riff was ensuing. I wasn’t really familiar with the tune, and honestly I didn’t really give a fuck. Things as of late had not been going as I had necessarily planned them. It's safe to say that Muddy's mild success in the XWF had really caught me by surprise- and I hadn't the slightest idea all of the shit that goes into managing a wrestler.

I never intended to manage a wrestler either- let alone a drunken dumbass wrestler who really doesn't even deserve all of the opportunities he's getting. I'm just trying to paint my masterpiece documentary, and to do that I needed this shit stain-

"WEIGHED DOWN IN WEEZYANNA BY DA EVERGREENS!"

-to naturally flounder enough to lure his daughter back into wrestling. But now that Muddy has won a match, and had a good showing at the pay per view in Egypt, the money is starting to roll in. Endorsement offers, Comic Con events, smarky podcast interviews and now he's even been booked in the main event for Saturday Savage against the new Universal Champion, The Engineer.

With all of that, and this nauseating ass schedule: traveling from Cairo to Hollywood, then from Hollywood to Australia then back to the states all within two weeks- I'll admit I'm way in over my head with this shit. I need help. Someone to babysit this backwoods ballsack so I can focus on editing film and working on the documentary.

"No. Muddy. You fuck. What I'm telling you is that I need you to be on your best behavior when we meet this woman at your apartment... She's potentially going to be your new manager."

"Muddy aint much on havin' a boss Brian."

"Well you're going to have to be, buddy. I don't have the time nor the knowledge to keep your ass afloat in this business, and since you apparently remember NOTHING from your first run in the XWF- this is our only option."

"Muddy 'members plenty boy. Especially signing autographs on big o' Egyptian titties."

"Muddy, you tried using a pencil and broke that poor woman's skin. Blood was everywhere. She hit you."

"I like it rough son."

"Muddy, just be good for Christ fucking sake."

We pull up infront of Muddy's modest Burbank apartment. A Limousine is already parked out front, and as we exit the van we are met by none other than...



"Hello gentlemen. Jane at your services.

Jane . The former head of human resources in the XWF, Jane had a falling out with company a year or so ago and moved onto open her own business: XTreme Talent Agency where she makes a healthy commission by helping funnel new wrestlers into the industry. The most notable of those wrestlers thus far being someone named R.L. Edgar.

Yeah...

So sure, business has been slow for Jane- but one thing is for certain, there's few who know the XWF better than she does. If there's anyone who can help manage Muddy, and get him in prime position to fail hard enough in the ring for Dolly to reemerge- it's her.

My only fear is that Muddy will scare her off before we-

"GOT DAMN! LOOK AT THEM THERE TITTES!"

My face turns red and sinks down into the palms of my hands. This fucking imbecile. I'm going to be stuck changing his bandages and stuffing his tights for fucking ever at this rate.

"Ahem, right. Hello Muddy, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

She says while holding out her hand for Muddy to shake. This chick is unbelievably thick skinned, and as Muddy pointed out... thick chested. Jeez, now I'm sounding just like him, but those tits are hard to look away from.

"Mam, at there hand is too damn dainty fer' Muddy ta' grasp."

Muddy hocks up some mucus, spits into his hand and proceeds to grab Jane by the face and lay on a sloppy kiss. My heart instantly drops down to my anus. It's over now for certain.

Jane pulls away from the kiss, and the look on her face shifts between different stages of conflicted.

"Muddy! What the fuck man?!"

I say shoving him a bit,

"Jane, please excuse him, he really doesn't know any better-"

"Muddy knowed damn well boy-"

"Guys! Look, it's fine. Let's just go inside and discuss the details of this contract, alright?"

Unbelievable. This lady must REALLY be hurting for money. Muddy hasn't bathed since before his Turning Point match. The lips of his decaying mouth covered in dried blood and tobacco juice. She's one tough ombre, that's for sure.

Jane adjusts herself, gives a strong exhale through her nostrils then holds out her arm for us to lead her into Muddy's apartment- and that's when it dawned on me; I have no fucking idea what type of condition his living area could be. Matter of fact, I haven't even been inside of there since we first rented it for him a few weeks ago. My hear t starts racing as Muddy leads us up the sidewalk.

"Psst, dumbass..."

I whisper to Muddy,

"There's nothing disconcerting in your pad is there?"

"Hell naw honey, I aint a played disc golf in years. Plus I'd never do it inside my home- you think Muddy's some sorta animal or something?"

Fuck my life.

Muddy turns the key inside of his dead bolt and opens his door. There's an immediate stench of sewage there to great us, along with the visual of about a thousand smashed beer cans, two live, highly malnutrition chickens clucking about in disarray, a couch that looks like it had been set on fire, and sitting on that couch a blow up sex doll with a picture Rosanne's face taped on the head.

Jane begins making a gagging noise as we walk inside, but yet she still remains composed- shooing off one of the chickens packing at her leg and proceeding towards the couch where she sits next to the skinny, air inflated Roseanne.

"At'n there's a classic."

Dumbass says to Jane referring to his blowup doll,

"I use-ta' keep Amy Schumar's face on there til heard she's all liberalized and such. I ain't tryin' to be a me-too-er. Now Roseanna, that there's a real man's kinda' woman- she's so big and only mildly attractive so you know'd she wont have'a' problem with Muddy feelin' up on her rear."

Jane blinks at Muddy in disbelief and my nerves are fucking shot.

"Hey, John Goodman. Got anything stiff to drink?"

Jane chuckled a bit at my comment while pulling some papers out of her briefcase. I popped open the fridge, the contents were to be as expected. Old bucket of KFC, four cans Natural Ice beer and a near emptied half gallon of Heaven Hill whiskey.

"Boy I done told you! It was Johnny B. Goode."

"Muddy, be good!"

I say just trying to get under his skin while examining the inside of the half gallon.Looks like there's some chewing tobacco backwash floating inside of there abut at this point I could care less. I crack open one of the beers and chug about half of it down and I instantly feel my nerves starting to settle. I then fill the can back up with the remaining whiskey and make my way over to the couch near Jane.

"Listen here Brianna!"

Muddy has been calling me Brianna for a while now.

"If you don't quit butcherin' at song- Muddy's gunna' butcher at ass!"

"Muddy, before we get started I need to use the restroom."

Fucking brave.

"Yes em', right down at there hallway to the left."

Jane stands with a smile and heads down the hallway.

"Muddy, gotta' say- I just LOVE what you've done with the place. The decor is so fitting with your personality."

Not picking up on my sarcasm-big shocker-Muddy begins glowing with pride,

"Why thank ya, Briann-"

We're interrupted by the ghastly, ear piercing screams of Jane from down the hallway.

We both take off running towards her- that sewage scent grows stronger. We find Jane standing almost lifelessly in the doorway to the restroom, vomit on the floor at her feet and a bit on her chin. I move past her some to push open the door and take a look inside.

"Gahhh fuck, Muddy!"

Sitting propped up in the bathtub is a decaying dead body of an elderly lady- worms crawling in and out of her emptied eye sockets, gnats swarming her body, another live chicken in the tub with her pecking at the rotting flesh on her chest.

"Oooooh at's right!"

"MUDDY! Why is there a fucking dead body in your bathtub?!"

"Quit yellin' at me! At's the woman we dug up in the grave yard when doin at promo on Michael Gayves and Cadryn Tiqueerious."

"But what is the body doing in here!?"

"Cuz Muddy brought er home!

"YES! I SEE THAT MORON! BUT WHY!?"

"Cuz she was lonely like, Muddy!"

He sobs out with tears forming in his eyes.

"That's it, I'm calling the fucking police!"

"No, no! Jane wait! Please- this is just a big misunderstanding-"

I say while jumping in front of her and grabbing her arm while she reaches for the phone in her pocket.

"Get off of me you fucking creep!"

She says jerking her arm away from me,

"What a fucking mista-"

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

Out of nowhere Muddy runs from behind Jane and smashes a full can on Natural Ice against the back of her skull- the beverage explodes everywhere.

"OOOOOOOOOW! YOU FUCKER!"

"MUDDY!?! WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!"

"Tryn'a knock her ass out! Muddy ain't ah' goin' back to the pokey!"

"With a beer can!? Put her in a fucking sleeper or something! Aren't you a wrestler!?"

Holy shit... what was I saying? What was becoming of me? All I knew was that I had to get this documentary done at all costs- and that I really needed another drink, and perhaps something stronger.

Jane breathes deep and begins to squirm and struggle as Muddy wraps his arms around her neck. Muddy starts lightly shushing and singing gently into her ear as Jane's appendages begin to drop limp.

"weighed down in weezyanna by new orleans- there lived a country boy named Muddy B. Goode, him never ever learned to read or write so well, but he could skin em' a skunk just like him ringing a bell."

Jane drops lifelessly to the floor. I check her vitals. She's breathing.

"Muddy B. Goode? Really?"

"Seemed ah' fittin."

He said wiping away some spit from his mouth,

"Now let's tie them titties up."

-to be continued-