Blood and Whiskey
Big Don Marshall is sitting on a wooden bench, under the bright sun, butt fuck middle of nowhere Texas. His back is to the camera, but we can see a short glass of alcohol in his right hand, as well as a half empty bottle of Tennessee Bourbon beside his left leg. He snorts in through his nose loudly and spits on the ground in front of him.
In front of him is an old, broken down ring. The mat is permanently stained from the endless bumps and matches it has taken over the last few decades. We can see literal dents in the ring posts from previous violent encounters. If looking carefully, one could even spot old blood splatter from the most gruesome of affairs. It appears Don is reminiscing on old times.
Suddenly, however, his train of thought it interrupted by some loud, booming voice.
Hey asshole, school’s not open today.
A large behemoth of a man approaches, with three other men of various sizes, but all fit. Don doesn’t even turn around, and continues to sip his drink. The man continues his approach and puts his hand on Don’s should.
You deaf, buddy? Get your ass off my property.
Don slams his drink on the bench and stands up with blistering speed, grabbing the man’s wrist. He simply stares into the large man’s eyes and smiles.
You again? You know you're banned from here after the shit you caused last time, Don. Danny is still drinking through a fucking straw to this day. Boys, whip this loser’s ass and toss him out.
All four men swarm Don, raining down punches as the big Canadian covers up while slowly backing away, absorbing the blows. They continue to punch him relentlessly until Don backs into the side of ring. He suddenly raises both his arms with a furious roar as all four men fly off of him. The first, a thin, blonde man, rushes at Don, who lifts him with both hands by the throat and drops him back on ground to a resounding thud.
The other men are now stunned in fear for a moment. He grabs a second man by the shirt and cracks him right between the eyes with a huge left haymaker, folding him in half backwards. A third man rushes him from the blind side, but Don’s senses are too vicious. He spins around and lifts his right leg up high, connecting with a Big Boot to the jaw knocking him unconscious. It’s just Don and the large man from earlier now. Don strokes his beard and laughs.
What are ya going to do now, big boy? Huh?
The large man rushes and grapples Don as they exchange punches back and forth. Despite his best effort, however, the man is no match for the heavy hands of the Canadian farmer turned wrestler, and he eventually begins to stop throwing fists and is simply eating punch after punch after punch. His face explodes with blood from his lip and nose as Don goes to town on the poor dude’s head until he crumples up on the ring apron, held up only by chance.
Don taps him on the back and makes sure he isn’t going anywhere. He walks beside him and reaches under the ring, producing a table. He then gingerly sets it up on the floor, parallel with the side of the ring.
He begins to pick up the lighter men, one after the other, placing them on top of the table, stacked on top of the other. The men barely even grown as they are being man handled. Don admires his handy work for a moment, but is struck in the back by the now barely awake larger man. Don laughs off the blow, turns around, and drives his forehead into the man's face with a nasty headbutt, knocking him out for good.
He lays the man on the of the apron, and climbs up on the apron himself. He slowly brings the large man to his feet, methodically. He places his head between his legs, grabs him by the waist, and hoists him up onto his shoulders in a power bomb position. Don then hops off and drives the large man on top of the stack of bodies, crashing all of them through the table in a violent apex of destruction. Wood and blood lay waste across the ground as Don gets up and dusts himself off and walks slowly towards the camera.
Weak Sauce, was it...You want to get in the ring with me?
Don rubs his beards menacingly and begins to get visually angry.
You want to waste MY time, after we graciously let you escape with your life last time? You need to learn some respect, alongside the rest of the folks at AMA, because clearly you haven’t learned your lesson. A lesson we offered you for free, mind you.
Don kicks a crawling man besides him trying to escape the pile of cripples.
Do you see what I’m capable of X? Do you really think a little boy like you stands a chance against a behemoth of a man like me? A man built by blood, sweat and whiskey? Pathetic.
Don reaches under the bench for his bottle of whiskey, downs the rest, and breaks it over the bodies with a psychotic throw.
And you want to add tables to the mix. Well little man, I’ve just shown your virgin ass what I do with tables. And every single one of these men are bigger than you, and could whip your ass all day, every day. Now what do you think is going to happen when you're one on one in the ring with me, boy? I suggest you listen to the advice we gave you last show, and keep your twink-ass sitting on the couch writing fan fic. Because that’s all you are little man, just another tiny vanilla fan cosplaying as a professional wrestler.
Don burps up some whiskey and spits.
So if you actually decide to show up, X, well it’s going to be your funeral. Because by then I’ll be 3 bottles in and I’ll already have forgotten to hold back. They say everything is bigger in Texas, and that’s damn true, because I just rolled into town. And Don Marshall is as big as they get. Bottoms up, kid.
Don grabs what’s left of his glass he put down earlier, downs it, and walks away casually.
