RKMBs Forums .::Important::. RDCW Havok-Not so Grand Schemes

Joey Biles is standing in front of a non-descript door...

JB: (whispering) I'm standing outside the locker room of Heavyweight Cheese Champion, Joe Mama. Although he's not scheduled to compete tonight, and hasn't been seen around the CheeseDome, rumor says that he is in the building. Let's find out!

Joey carefully opens the door and quietly steps in, the cameraman following closely behind him. The room is dark except for the flickering light of a television. Joe Mama is sitting in front of it, leaning forward, studying it.

JB: Um, Champ?

Joe Mama doesn't acknowledge Joey. His full attention is locked on the match he's watching. It's nothing from this week's Havok.

JB: Uh...Joe? Can you talk?

Joe Mama doesn't look away from the TV.

JM: What. Do. You. Want. Joey.

JB: Well, um, people have been looking for you. Grimm and Harley...

JM: Are probably occupying themselves quite nicely right now. I'm too busy to be involved in what they like to call "business." Let them paw at each other like a couple of high school students. I have a match to prepare for.

JB: Is that what you're doing here, in the night, in the dark...?

JM: Nice reference to The Haunting. Just in time for Halloween.

JB: The whozzit?

JM: Exactly. I've been sitting here, undisturbed, watching tapes of Ghost Hog's matches. I've been reviewing match after match, looking for something - anything - that would give me some insight into my opponent. And do you know what I've learned, Joey?

JB: Um...what, Champ?

JM: Absolutely nothing. Ghost Hog has no discernable style. He seemingly has no skill beside stumbling around a ring and lucking his way into what few victories he's got. He is, for all intents and purposes, the most unskilled competitor I've ever faced.

JB: Which makes your match at Halloween Handjobs and easy victory. A mortal lock, as you say...

JM: Not at all. I have nothing to latch onto. Nothing to look for. Nothing to exploit. The fact that he has absolutely no style makes him difficult to plan for or guard against because there are no tip-offs. It's like trying to plan against...

JB: A knuckleballer like Tim Wakefield? You must be happy that the Red Sox are in the World Series...

JM: Did they make it? That's nice.

For weeks, I've been telling people that Ghost Hog is nothing but a drunken waste of space who doesn't deserve his spot on the RDCW roster. But y'know what? It's his drunkedness that makes him so dangerous. He feels no pain because he's completely numb from the cheap booze in his system. You can't defend against his moves - he has none to defend against. It's like battling a hurricane or some other force of nature. No, this is setting up to be one hell of a match. And victory will be difficult to come by...except for one thing.

JB: One thing?

The glow of the television illuminates the horrible look on Joe Mama's face. The glee in his eyes. The rictus grin on his face.

JM: This match - Beyond Thunderdome. It's basically the Fenway Park Street Fight, only enclosed. Plenty of weapons, but nowhere to go. Once we're locked in, Ghost Hog will have the pleasure of me at my most sadistic. I'm going to enjoy testings the limits of his consciousness. Loosie hasn't tasted blood in some time. And I've actually developed some special treats just for this occasion. Grimm likes to believe that he's the most evil competitor in the RDCW. At Halloween Handjobs, as he watches the main event, he'll find out how wrong he is. His relations...hip with Harley has softened him. A satisfied Grimm is a sedate Grimm. I have no such distractions - Ghost Hog has nothing to look forward to but the end of his career. You can't talk about conspiracies with your jaw wired shut. You can't point accusing fingers when your bones are shattered. He likes to drink his alcohol, but at Halloween Handjobs, the only thing any of us will be able to taste is his blood. Our match will be an Eli Roth flick with a better storyline. I'm looking forward to this match...

JB: Um...well, then. Okay. Uh, thanks for your time, Champ.

Joey turns to leave. He motions to the camera to "cut."