The scene opens to find Muddy sitting between Dolly, and Trina, the waitress from Applebees in Boston he's been holding practically hostage for the better part of a month; in a three seat row toward the back of the airline. Dolly, per the usual has her earphones on and eyes closed, listening to Taylor Swift or some shit, Trina is in Quaalude land, head slumped on Muddy's shoulder drooling a bit with her left hand in her yoga pants.

Muddy is erotically engaged in an issue of Playboy featuring Sandy Smith, easily the hottest XWF diva to ever live,



But that stupid bitch Trina's drool, is getting all over Muddy's Morbid Angel shirt, this of course pisses him off as he shoves her incapacitated head over as she sags down out of her seat. Muddy looks over at Dolly, she isn't paying attention…

“Ats' right bay-be, just you and Muddy now...”

Muddy wondered for a moment, and only for a moment, if looking at naked pictures of a dead woman made him a bad person, but the growing bulge in his tight black jeans overpowered his lacking moral fortitude- and he began gently touching himself.

He flipped through the pages, becoming fixated on the spread out picture of Sandy's grotesque naked body sprawled out in front of a trailer, eating a twinkie, licking the cream filling out, and pulling back several fat rolls on her fupa exposing her pubic hairs shaved in the letters D-I-M.

“Jumpin' Jesus! This here gettin' hot...”

Muddy tightly closes his eyes and begins imagining himself in this hot, dark, smoke filled room with red and blue strobe lights flashing everywhere… Eddie Money's: I Think I'm In Love, playing in his mind as Sandy slides her fat frame on top of Muddy, rolling her slobber soaked tongue out of her mouth and putting it in his mouth. Suddenly they're in another room, and Muddy is lathering Sandy's naked body with a giant, industrial sized tub of bacon grease,

“DRILL Sgt. Waters gunna' take yer' ass ta' Booty Camp.”

“Oooohhh, that's it, now make momma' some of that man gravy.”

Her voice sounds very masculine, and of African American descent,

An eruption, as Muddy comes to, finding that he's soiled his pants with semen. Face planted in his lap is Trina, over to his right, Dolly sits next to the window, her eyes still closed… she had been singing Eddie Money all along, this makes Muddy smile.

He leans back in his seat, dropping the Playboy at his feet and locking his fingers together behind his head. All is right in the world...

”Ummm attentin-yon, this here be yer' Captain speakin'…
I'd like ta' thank all of ya's fer' flyin' Redneck Airlines, but as ah' reminder, please have all electrical-fied objects turned off until tha' purdy little red light flashin' above ya's turns ta' green. Thank ya's again.”

Before the captain can even finish his announcement, Muddy already has his cell phone out making a call… he raises his other arm up, snapping his fingers at the stewardess, motioning for another beer.

The tall, African American male stewardess, who's been particularly placed in an odd occupation, rolls over his food cart to Muddy's seat and pours him a glass of some fancy pants lager. Muddy's obviously irritated that for one the stewardess is male, and for two that he's, well… ya' know?

Come on…you know what I'm getting at… NOT white.

“I watched you on Madness last week...big fan, mainly of The Brick Squad, but it's hard to argue your...”

The stewardess notices the Playboy on the floor by Muddy's feet, while at the same time Muddy's eyes widen, with the phone ringing in his ear as he notices this man sounded a lot like Sandy Smith did in his fantasy...

“...argue your, um, talent? Think maybe you could not swear so much though?”

“Shhh! Shhh! Yell-o? Ya' there?”

Muddy motions his hand up at the black stewardess after taking the beer and snarling a bit at it's fanciness, quieting him so he can hear who's on the other side of the phone.

Pest:Yes, yes, Mr. Waters, I can hear you… what is it?

“Well, Mr. Pest, Muddy was just ah' thinkin' bout' our name...”

Muddy shoots a dirty look over at the stewardess...

“Does we really gotta' be named tha' BLACK Hand? Muddys' ah' figurin' that tha' name White Hand woulda' sounded much more proper… Matter of fact, some of Muddy's family back home been kinda' givin' Muddy ah' lashin' bout' it...”

Pest:Do they understand it is an organized crime name, and not a racial name?

“Organized crime? Hell Muddy aint ah' knowd' that…It wuddunt no negro, hooch sellin' crime ring was it?

Pest:What did I just tell you Mr. Waters?

Pest sighs...Muddy is the definition of a meathead, great for muscle, and that's about it

Pest: Mr. Waters, is this all you really called to talk to me about? I am a very, very busy man, and while I always appreciate your earnestness for our cause…

Pest stops mid sentence...

Pest:...wait, are you in route to Cincinnati?

“Muddy's in rootin' tootin' route hunny, ya' aint gotta' worry bout' that… This here pansy ass Muddys' ah' facin' this week, Fred Lick, what'cha' know bout' him?”

Pest:Well Mr. Waters, his name is Dead Nick…
He is a buffoonish man who has no memory of the world he once knew, but believes you are named for a blues musician. He also believes he is superior to you because he lost to Sebastian Duke. Muddy, you can take on Sebastian Duke and win. He proved he cannot.

“Dead Spic? Hell this orta' be ah' shot in tha' rear then..."

Pest: That's the spirit, now go get him slugger, and remember, the Black Hand will be watching…

Muddy shutters at the word 'black' again as Pest hangs up the phone. Outside of the small plane window, Muddy see's the Cincinnati area illuminating in the darkness of night… this is where it all started for him, his XWF legacy, a legacy he's planning on continuing next Wednesday...

---

“My oh my, this here be what ya' call ah' crowd...”

The ruckus crowd is exploding with excitement as the Federweight Champion stands in the center of the ring wearing a Black Hand TShirt, smiling at his adoring fans,

“My name is...”



“Yer' damn straight it is… and it's ah' damn good feelin' bein' back here in SIN-CINATTI, OH-HIA TA'NIGHT!!!!!

Ya' see this here be where Tha' Pride of Pike Co. got his X-dubya'F carreer ah' goin', in this very ring, in this here very arena, when ol' Muddy Waters defied all them odds stacked gainst' him and kicked tha' shit outta' that yella' bellied British bulldog Cohen Horne, and earned himself ah' spot on the X-dubya'-F's roster.

So Muddy Waters was takin' ah' big ol' dump in tha' toilet, when he get's ah' text message sayin' that he's gunna' be fightin' ol' Dead Nick at Wednesday Night Mud-Fare, and it'll be tha' openin' bout' of that there particular evenin'… that be righty fine with Muddy, hell Muddy may even be in tha' givin' mood and decide ta' beat some of Dead Nick's borin' ass memories back inta' his fuck-tarded dementia havin' mind.

Muddy heard that there homo promo from Mr. Nick, gotta' say ol' Muddy was ah' bit taken fer' ah' ride by it, and it aint just tha' fact that Nick is ah' dumb fuck, it was maybe tha' nicest promo Muddy heard cut on him since he got in X-dubya'-F. Hell if Muddy knowd' he was gunna' be facin' off gainst' Fred Rogers he'd done called up some of Fred's friends from tha' Neighborhood of Make Believe and fucked Lady Elaine Fairchild ta' teach him how ta' be ah' real man like Muddy Waters… yer' bout' as mean as Daniel fuckin' Tiger.

In all seriousness Nicky, Muddy knows that yer' fer'getful' and all, and yer' sad cause ya' can't remember who yer' Momma' and Daddy is, and ya' don't know why ya' have such gay feelins fer' Muddy Waters… but ta'day yer' in luck, Muddy's gunna' fill ya' in on yer past ah' bit…

It all started fer' Gay Nick, way back when in tha' land of Who Gives Ah' Flyin' Fuck Bout This Here Worthless Stick Figure, you were dropped on yer' head at birth cause yer' slut-bucket Momma was goin' through meth withdraws. At age seven ya' sucked yer' first pecker and become accustomed to tha' taste while findin' out why yer Momma' loved yer' Daddy so much… Yer' ah' pansy ass nobody who thought he'd be able ta' make it as ah' pro-fessional rassler', but ya' sucked too much wee-wee and tha' cum clogged up yer' brain causin' ya' ta' fer'get that yer' ah' pathetic dipshit.

This cocksucker obviously aint gotta' damned clue what he's sayin' half tha' fuckin' time he speaks, which is rarely ever, hell last time Muddy seen this cocksucker on TV was weeks ago when he was playin' tha' role of Sebastian Duke's pin cushion… he fer' one aint' gotta' fuckin' clue what's really goin' on here in X-dubya'-F ta' begin with, let's roll tha' tape:

Dumb Fuck Said:“I'd bet that's a boring title to hold too. No one seems to bee too interested in it these days.”

WHOA! WHOA! Simmer down there Stick Stickly! That was mean, real mean comin' from ah' jerkoff usin' ah' popsicle stick as their X-dubya'-F website bio picture… that was also really stupid too, cause right b'fore he said no one's interested, he said this:

Dumber Fuck Said:"I wonder why that shit isn't on the line this week... Am I too green perhaps? I understand how the title works and all, but hell, why not Muddy?

Fer' those of ya' who couldn't understand what Nick was talkin' bout' per his communist, devil worshipin' Asian friend Tokyo's cock in his mouth, he was talkin' bout' tha' Federweight Championship, and he seems interested don't he… tha' same title that Muddy just pinned tha' current Hart Champion who be facing D'Ville at Bad Medicine fer' tha' Universal Title, Vinnie Lane, ah' mere ten days ago ta' win…



Then Muddy successfully defended tha' strap two times this past week…

May 4th:


May 7th:


But I guess you was too busy not doin' anythin' worth ah' fuck in this league ta' notice what's been goin' on lately. Really what have ya' ever done in yer' pathetic pissant little career? Ya' beat some jackass Mark Walberg wannabe who already got nuff' sense ta' move on from rasslin', and then ya' got yer' ass handed it ya' in that there Cell match in Louisiana, ya' vanish fer' weeks then come back and take jabs bout' what Muddy Waters done? Guess ya' can't remember huh?

What ah' stupid, steamin' pile of monkey shit ya' are Nick. It's purdy damn obvious ta' Muddy Waters, that ol' Nick's mind is blockin' out all tha' gay, man lovin' experiences from his failed life, but hell, ya' orta' consider it ah' gift Nick, it's like tha' Good Lord is given yah' ah' second chance ta' redeem yer'self and not be such ah' flamin' dick lovin' queer.

Ya' worried bout' rememberin'? Well here in tha' X-dubya'-F we'll fer'ever remember yer' ass not as Dead Nick, but as tha' Fed's Dick, because night after night you'll be getting' ah' good ol' spit lathered beatin' by tha' real men and women who work fer' tha' greatest rasslin' promotion on earth…

B'fore Muddy leaves yalll though, he'll leave ya' with this… it's tha' latest entry in Nick's diary:

Entry 69:




The scene fades…