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 Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 4:29 pm
When Mad Dog grabs Freakshow and tucks the arms, Freak lunges backwards, pulling the surprised Mad Dog forward and bumping his head into the ring post. Immediately a cut is opened on Mad Dog's forehead as blood begins to pour down his face. Falling to the apron, Mad Dog rolls inside the ring grabbing his bleeding face.
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 4:48 pm
Freakshow collapses against the ropes hooking his arms around the cables to prevent from falling down on his noodle legs. Blacking out several times and coming to in second intervals with shutter consciousness the thoroughly dried out Marauder swallows hard not remembering who he was in the ring with. In fact, he was convinced momentarily that he was wrestling for EEW.
Swiveling towards the ropes he with great difficulty begins scaling up the top rope his boots caked with various liquids, glass stuck to the soles. Upon reaching the second rope his cheeks puff up as he is struck with vertigo. Widening his eyes he leans down gripping onto the top rope for support as the floor starts getting bigger and the ceiling starts getting closer.
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 6:25 pm
As Freak reaches the top of the turnbuckle, Mad Dog stands and throws himself toward the top rope, attempting to crotch Freakshow on the turnbuckle. If successful, Mad Dog will rest for just a moment, leaning with his arms hanging over the top rope. Quickly, Mad Dog gets himself together and scales the turnbuckle himself, standing over Freakshow in a precarious position.
Please don't fall again... please don't fall again... thinks Mad Dog, remembering the multiple times he had fallen off things earlier tonight.
Standing over Freakshow, Mad Dog attempts to butterfly the arms yet again as the audience begins to cheer loudly. Looking out at the crowd for a moment, Mad Dog attempts to lift Freakshow by the butterfly hooks and Dog Pound him onto the floor!
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 6:42 pm
The disembodied consciousness of Freakshow is in a board room on the 18th floor of the Sears tower. In front of him his a panel of executives, all with the exact same golden hair as him. He is completely naked in front of them holding a pair of scissors. The man in the middle of the table stands up. Behind him is a framed 18th century impressionist style portrait of the long absent majority stock holder of the Midnight Marauders International, Brantley Summers. The South African man raises both fists up and smashes them onto the table before pointing towards the crotch of the CEO.
"CUT IT OFF!!"
"WHAT?!?!?"
The naked Marauder leaps up ontop of the conference desk. Sprinting across the table he kicks over a cop of hot coffee spilling it onto a young womans chest, causing her to shriek on pure ecstatic agony. Reaching the end of the desk he bends his knees then leaps over the accuser and towards the framed photograph of Brantley Summers smashing through it falling deeply into an endless void. Falling and falling and falling and- CRASH!! The manager smashes hard on the concrete floor, folding up like an accordion on top of his neck.
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 6:55 pm
Salem watched from a few feet away as Mad Dog put an exclamation point on the match, driving Freakshow mercilessly into the concrete to the delight of the audience. Blood and debris were everywhere, but Salem wasn't yet satisfied - instead, "The Copperhead would grab Freakshow by his hair and lift his limp body up, slinging him over onto the apron. Rolling the Menace of MMI into the ring, Salem turned to Mad Dog and gave the man a nod before turning his attention to the loose cobra swaying at fans nearby from across the barricade.
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 6:55 pm
With a SPLAT and a CRACK both men hit the pavement. The audience roars at the sight of such brutality. Now sitting on the ground, Mad Dog smells a FOUL scent coming out of the bottom end of Freakshow. Coughing, Mad Dog shoves Freakshow's limp carcass away from himself as he leans back on the floor, simply breathing after such a hard bump. As Mad dog lies on the ground, Salem rolls Freakshow back into the ring, a friendly gesture. Nodding back at Salem, Mad Dog slides back into the ring and falls on top of Freakshow in a pinning attempt!
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 7:05 pm
1...2...3! Freakshow lays on the ground in a pile of his own failure. He was thinking of the time when he was a boy where he would go down to the local bleaching salon and watch the rich kids get their hair bleached. He remembered that he wanted to be just like them and that he would stop at nothing to make his dreams possible. The first time he ever stepped out of that shack on 164th street he knew what he had was special and he celebrated with a nice shoe shine by a little Puerto Rican Boy. That little Puerto Rican boy would grow up to be a failure in his own right. But that's a different story entirely.
"AND THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH BY PINFALL. MAD. DOG. MCLENNON!"
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 7:45 pm
After the referee counts the pin, the audience erupts. Mad Dog leaps to his feet, surging with the adrenaline of victory as he scales the top turnbuckle, flexing and screaming out to the cheering audience. Putting his hands around his waist, Mad Dog makes the international symbol of "I'm coming for the belt" before pointing out to the crowd, who quite liked the suggestion. He was now 6-0 in the company and would not be denied. But tonight was not about belts or contendership - tonight was about breaking Freakshow's pride and banishing him from BBW.
From the turnbuckle, Mad Dog makes eye contact with Salem Croft. Had he made a new ally? Nodding at Salem, Mad Dog steps down from the turnbuckle as the referee hands him his hair clippers.
By now an ambulance had made its way ringside and EMTs piled out of the back with a stretcher. As the EMTs attempt to enter the ring, Mad Dog simply holds his hand out as they stop, not wanting to try the bloodsoaked Mad Dog. They could have him, but Mad Dog had business to do first.
Turning to the limp, stinking husk of Freakshow lying on the canvas, Mad Dog mounts his chest and grabs his head, holding the clippers up high to the delight of the cheering audience.
BZZZZZZZ
Turning the clippers on, Mad Dog roughly begins laying into the top of Freakshow's head. The camera gets several close shots of blonde hair falling to the canvas in clumps. The skin on Freakshow's head began to get raw and bloody as Mad Dog applied pressure to the shave, now working on the sides of his head.
When finished, Mad Dog stood up and admired his handiwork. Freakshow lied, hairless, on the mat surrounded by piles of his blonde hair. He looked pretty gross lying in his own blood and urine with no hair. Smiling, Mad Dog allows the EMTs to step in and do their jobs as the Birmingham fans began to chant:
NA NA NA NA
NA NA NA NA
HEY HEEEEEEY
GOODBYYYYYYYE!
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Posted: Fri Jul 17, 2015 6:12 pm
The hairless scoundrel is loaded onto the stretcher. He feels himself floating up the ramp delicately, he felt as though he was on a small boat floating down the Mississippi with his ****** friend. Opening his eyes he looks forward seeing the hulking frame of a fat lipped Mark Laundre dipping a paddle into the delta waters allowing the current to carry himself and his companion whose only protection from the blistering sun was a straw hat. NA NA NA NA
NA NA NA NA
HEY HEY HEY
GOODBYE Faintly he hears the sing along chants as he is carried up to the gorilla position his head hairless as the day he came out of the 6 inch laceration across his mothers stomach. Covered in his own viscera he is taken back to the trauma experienced on that day, the blinding light, the sound and fury, the removal of his foreskin. He remembered it all in blistering detail. Even then the trauma that paled in comparison to the loss he had just experienced at the hands of Mad Dog McLennon. NA NA NA NA
NA NA NA NA
HEY HEY HEY
GOODBYE Feeling the cool air on his shaven head he is awaken as he reaches the top of the ramp. No explanation was necessary. His spine tingling in anticipation of the morphine drip to come he musters up the energy to raise a limp middle finger as his eyes focus a deadened thousand yard stare through Salem Croft, through Mad Dog McLennon, a gaze defying the current plane of immanence, a malevolent malochio at God himself. "Bastards." He scoffs disappearing permanently through the black curtains.
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