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MadDog · (03-15-2023)

The scene fades into a small cabin in the woods. This isn’t some fancy cabin with a hot tube, scenic overlook, and cable TV that you’d find on AIRBNB with a five-star rating. No, this is a run-down hunting cabin, the kind of cabin that smells of baked beans and dirt. The type with an outhouse for a restroom, and water you have to pump from an old hand-dug well. The kind of cabin where you’d sneak your first beer while your dad and his buddies were drunk playing poker.

From inside the cabin comes the sound of empty cans and bottles crashing. Suddenly, the door of the cabin burst open, and empty PBR bottles and cans come spilling out from the doorway, along with a hefty cloud of smoke. Following the smoke and debris out of the doorway is Mad Dog Mark Wright. Mad Dog looks beyond unhygienic, he looks like Pig Pin from Charlie Brown come to life. His wife-beater is stained with God knows what, his blue jeans are tinged brown, and just be thankful you don’t have smell-a-vision.

Mad Dog stumbles from the cabin and heads toward the outside, clearly taking all he has not to fall flat on his face. Mad Dog rumbles, bumbles, and stumbles his way to the outhouse, where he drops trow and takes a seat on the throne meant as a torture device, not for a king. I’ll save you the description of the sights, sounds, and smells of this house reminiscent of the house Dionysus built. Just know Mad Dog is taking a big Barney Green before wiping his Raion Kido.

As Mad Dog looks at the same copy of “Field & Stream” for the tenth time, he begins to let his mind wander. As his mind wanders, he comes to the thought that the fifth and final match of his trial XWF contract was coming up. March Madness had been the end of his contract all along. He had hoped he’d be re-signed for big money after winning the March Madness tournament, but now he’s just surprised to still be getting a paycheck. Mad Dog can’t hold it in anymore and he has to let it out, no, not the Barney Green from his Raino Kido, but his thoughts from his mouth.

Barney Green, shouldn’t you be Barney purple? But you ain’t a big purple dinosaur, are ya? Na, you’re just a tubby old cyclops. Shoot son, I do be doubting myself, but I been beating the old one-eyed monster since I was twelve years old. Matter oh fact, the first time I ever choked the old one-eyed monster out was in this very outhouse when I found my Daddy’s playboy stashed under a stack of Field & Stream. What do ya expect a young man to do when he lays eyes on Claudia Schiffer in all her natural glory?

Mad Dog grunts, leaning forward and holding his stomach. A loud eruption comes from under him. Mad Dog lets out a sigh of relief as he leans back.

Ah, who am I, Barney Greening? Truth is, my run here in XWF has been the drizzling sh*ts. Barney is about as mediocre as they come, and that sawed off Danny DeVito-looking mofo. I’ve flat-out sucked here in XWF, and it’s not something I’m used to. I’ve been successful everywhere I’ve ever been, but then I come here, to arguably the biggest promotion in the world, with the biggest stage in this sport, and I trip over my own dick and fall flat on my face. Shoot Barney, you might just have a better-than-average chance of beating me. Normally, I go into a fight without the slightest bit of doubt in my mind.

Normally….

Mad Dog drops his head and shakes it. Mad Dog pulls a small Mason jar from the back pocket of his jeans around his ankles. A quick spin of the screw on top and it’s open. With one large swig, Mad Dog takes down the remainder of the jar. Mad Dog then just throws the jar, smashing it against a tree and watching the glass fly. Even when nearly blind drunk Mad Dog still has an incredible aim.

Barney, you and I are both jabronis when it comes to the XWF standings, and at March Madness we are fighting to see who is the king of sh*t mountain. The winner, well, we get the title of the biggest kernel of corn in the turd. Neither of us could beat Dionysus, so we both showed how dag on pathetic we are in that alone. Taken out by a wino, bet my grandpappy done uninvited me from Easter dinner, and my great grandpappy is spinning in his grave.

Barney, I lose to you and I might as well just go for a walk in the woods in all brown during rut season. Well, maybe it ain’t that serious, but if I lose to you I reckon my rasslen career is dead. Shoot, I know it will be dead in XWF. I don’t know if it was too much time away from the ring, or if I had just always been a big fish in a small pond, but the bright lights of XWF are blinding me. Shoot, they done halfway blinded you already, Barney.

I gotta find a pair of shades to wear at March Madness. Maybe get me some aviators and get my career flying high like Maverick. Cause, my career here in XWF has been resembling Goose more than Maverick. Claiming Top Gun with a career, while doing Vanilla Sky numbers, got me looking like Vanilla Ice. Ya know, a fake, a fraud, and a phony.

I promise you; I used to be one of the hardest men to hold to the mat that ever stepped between them ropes. I gotta find that old dog, and I gotta let him outta the cage. Maybe I just need my head slapped around. I need that cage rattled. Or, maybe I’m just gonna end up a never-was. We gonna find outcome March Madness, but this time old Mad Dog ain’t fighten to provide a better life for my family. I ain’t fighten to climb up the ladder. And, I ain’t fighten for my family lineage.

Na Barney, I’m fighten for survival. I don’t beat your one-eyed, yogurt-slinger butt, my renewal papers are probably getten lost in the mail. Shoot, I lose to you old Vinne ain’t even gotta waste a stamp on my future endeavor letter, I’ll just go ahead and but my butts myself. Way I see it, I can’t beat some dude looken like the dude ya see buying a ticket to sit in the front row, and standing in line at the women’s wrestlers gimmick table to get a Polaroid of him given um a creepy hug, then dang it I don’t deserve to be a pro wrestler. We gonna find out if I really got what it takes to be in XWF, it’s go big or go home for old Mad Dog. For you, Barney, there is only one place for you to go, and that’s to go mad.

Well, now Lord, if you can hear me won’t you throw a damn dog a bone

‘Cause if the Devil shows up with a better deal this old soul’s a-goin’ down

Oh, I sing ‘em real pretty, sing ‘em real sad

And all the people in the crowd say “He ain’t half bad”

Well, they call me King Turd up here on Shit Mountain

If you want it you can have the crown

After finishing his paperwork and washing his hands, Mad Dog sits outside of the cabin drinking some PBR as he stokes the fire on his still, preparing to run another batch. Mad Dog puffs his backwoods cigar between drinks, and as he takes a drag, he hears the sound of an engine rolling. This cabin was beyond secluded. You couldn’t have found OJ out here back in 94. Mad Dog tried to stand, but he was too intoxicated, so he tripped and fell as he headed for the cabin door. Mad Dog begins crawling towards the door when he looks back to see his brothers side-by-side pop over the ridge.

In the driver’s seat was his brother, Daniel Wright, and in the passenger seat was Sunny Jim. Mad Dog shakes his head as he pushes himself to his feet. The side-by-side comes to a stop near the still. Daniel doesn’t say anything or even get out of the Can-Am. He simply just shakes his head in disappointment and crosses his arms. Sunny steps out of the passenger seat, and as he does, Mark starts waving his hands.

I don’t want to hear it, Sunny. I’m not in the mood for strategizing, pep talks, or some Rocky Four rustic training bullcrap.

Mark, you’ve been up here since you got knocked out of the tournament. It’s time to go home.

Mad Dog shakes his head as he grabs a fresh beer, having spilled his last one when he fell. Mad Dog takes a seat as he twists the top off of the bottle.

Sunny, I can’t go home and face my family as a loser. I let my wife down; I let my kids down. Dang it, I let myself down. I looked my wife in the eye and told her I was going to win the March Madness tournament, and I get knocked out in the second round. How can I face her after that, Sunny?

Sunny sighs as he leans up against the cabin.

Mark, she misses you. She’s mad as hell you haven’t come home, but more than that, she and the kids miss you.

Mad Dog’s head drops. He rubs his free hand over his face before shaking his head.

Sunny, dag on man, I’ve never felt like more of a loser in my life. It ain’t that I’ve never lost a match before, but I ain’t never done so badly before.

What about that time we played golf at the Greenbrier?

Mad Dog gives a slight chuckle as he shakes his head once more and looks up.

Sunny, I’m being serious brother. I ain’t never done this bad somewhere before. Shoot, only person I beat in XWF was some little girl. If a little girl is the only person around XWF that I can whip, what does that say about me?

Mark, you’ve faced some top-shelf competition in XWF.

Yeah, and I lost to um all. If I can’t hang with the best, what am I even doing there, Sunny? I didn’t go to XWF to be a middle-of-the-pack wrestler. I came here to be a champion, but all I am here is a chump.

Sunny shakes his head, standing up straight.

Damn it, Mark, I came up here to bring you home and now look at me. Come, you can go to my house and get cleaned up before you go home.

Mad Dog shakes his head “no”, and takes a swig.

Sunny, I ain’t going home until I whip Barney at March Madness. I ain’t going home a chump. I’m at least picking up one last dub before I head home.

Mark, you aren’t a chump at your home. You are and will always be your family's champion.

Mad Dog just scoffs and takes another swig.

Alright, you leave me no choice.

Sunny pulls a walkie-talkie from his back pocket. Sunny pushes the button and says, “bring her up”. Mad Dog’s eyes grow to the size of saucers as he looks at Sunny.

To be continued.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode If you want it you can have the crown.
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