Mother Nature's A Bitch

The scene opens up to a backdrop of the RWD banner against a concrete block wall painted white. Standing in front of it is the current frontrunner of points in the Contest of Conquest, Frankie Cocheese. He’s wearing a white fitted hat backwards with the bill turned slightly to his right, a white tanktop, denim jeans, socks and white Vans shoes. He puts up two fingers. ”Twice. TWICE I’ve beaten this man already!” He lowers his hand. ”And now he wants me for a THIRD time?! Does he think the third time is a charm? The man must love his punishment. How many times must he suffer?”

He shakes his head ruefully, as if it’s a sad affair to him. ”It’s kinda fucked up, y’know? It’s almost like beating a dead dog. I mean, the man resembles one anyway.” He snickers. ”Anyway, it’s ya boy Frankie Cocheese and guess what?” He points to the backdrop behind him and smiles smugly. ”I’m in front of a backdrop. Ain’t that somethin?” He gives an upnod to the camera. ”Shoutout to Scotty Addams. Y’all know what I’m talking about!”

Seems like an inside joke, but people probably realize that Scotty Addams is famous for that. ”Got a surprise for you all tonight, but before I get into that, let me address a few things. So first of all, we got the #1 Shit-maker back at it again, Johnny Bonecrusher, with his quote unquote words of wisdom. And I call him the #1 Shit-maker because let’s face it, you side with him, you’re practically doomed to mediocrity. I mean, take a look at Kruzer. Not only did he let Canada down, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to let the rest of the RWD down when he goes up against Muhammad Murder. Huh. Abdullah Assad, and now Muhammad Murder. Guess muslim sounding names are Kruzer’s weakness. Well, anyway.” He leans into the camera, giving a real sarcastic smile and wave as he states. ”Good luck there, Kruzer! Going up against somebody from the ACE promotion after I Toe Tag your girlfriend in the center of the ring must weigh on your conscience pretty heavy! Don’t fuck up! You don’t want your future RWD champion in me to have to defend his belt at an inferior spot, do you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, as if the thought of him needing to do such doesn’t matter to him. ”Anyway, back to the shitfactory, the #1 Shit-maker in Johnny Bonecrusher. Johnny Bonecrusher, proving he’s more useless than tits on a nun in that triple threat match because his boy still lost. Johnny Bonecrusher, a guy who has the nerve to call me a punkass when all he does is spend his time on twitter being a keyboard warrior, talking shit on guys like Frank Washington and Drew Stevenson. Spending his time making…” He does air quotes. ”Bonus Footage.” He then lowers his hands. ”On commentary for the 30 minute Iron Woman match between Shawna Martinez and Artemis Kaiser. That’s how you know the man doesn’t have any sense in his brain, because he WILLINGLY sat there for 30 minutes, and did nothing but shittalk the both of them. The same way he’ll sit on twitter and shittalk people. And he’s got the nerve to call me a punk. I don’t get these idiot fans, y’know? They’ve got the nerve to root for a coward like Bonecrusher taking veiled potshots at Joker’s Wild and shittalking Frank’s wife, but when I come through and spit the truth they get mad and boo me. Oh well. I’ve never needed their praise and I’ll never need it in the future.”

He holds up a finger for a moment. “Let’s get one thing straight here, I ain’t above shittalkin, I mean, I’m Frankie Cocheese. But the thing is, I do it for Free and I don’t have to sit through a gorilla beating up a pre-teen to do it just to gain some extra cash to rehab my broken arm. Ain’t that right, Bonecrusher? Heh. Johnny Bonecrusher has a broken bone in his arm. Well I’ll be…”

He rolls his eyes, then takes a moment to collect his thoughts. ”Guy’s got some nerve, really. Trying to big up his man on twitter and take some shots at me. He had the nerve to rap it too. I mean really. Going on saying it takes no talent to do that. It really does take no talent to sound like garbage. Bonecrusher would know all about that. But that’s all right, though. ‘Cause you know I’ll come through. Let me break it down like this.” He does his own rhyming now.

”Johnny Bonecrusher sittin on his shitter
typing one handed on his phone on twitter.
Rehabing his broken arm,
mad cuz I got charm and did his boy harm.

I ain't about talkin shit on the computer machine.
What would Johnny Bonecrusher do?
Talk shit on a computer
and end up as bloody goo under my shoe.

Hah! Cochedda and his dream team.
You know we on the top steady making cream.
In just 4 days I'll be rupturing his boy's spleen on your tv screen.”

He folds his arms over his chest and dips his head back some, eyes peering into the camera. ”I will say this, Bonecrusher’s got SOME sense because he tried to tell that idiot Maxwell not to go after me AGAIN because he’s tired of seeing his boy get slaughtered. But Bonecrusher, let’s play deal or no deal. You keep my name out of your mouth, you keep the Joker’s Wild’s name out of your mouth, and I’ll keep my dick out of your mom’s mouth. We got a deal?”

He laughs at the thought. It’s like one of those questions that have no good answer. Like would you suck a dick after it’s been washed a thousand times? No? Then you must be a dirty dicksucker.

Frankie rubs his hands together. ”Now that we’ve addressed the fragile idiot trying to stay relevant by taking shots at people like me and the Jokers, we’ve still got to talk about Maxwell Schneider. Now what could I say about Maxwell that hasn’t already been said? Hmm…” He rubs his chin and looks up for a moment, deep in thought, before addressing the camera. ”Well, he’s got a piss poor taste in beer, first of all. Stones Throw? Who has ever heard of that? He wants to wear me as a vest because he knows I’m more durable than him, and definitely more durable than his weak manager with the broken arm. Dye his boots red with my blood, but he still won’t look better than me, and drink that piss-beer out of my skull to try and sap some more of my skill and talent because he’s already proved he’s got some, but not enough to beat me.”

Frankie narrows his eyes and takes a step forward. ”Maxwell, I’ve beaten you twice. I’m going to beat you a third time. I’ll beat you a hundred times, a thousand times, a MILLION times if I have to, you fucking schmuck! I’m going to beat you like I used to beat my dick, no homo, when I was younger before I became the Gogetta. I’m going to Toe Tag you so bad you won’t get to go up to the hotel room and rest at the Doubletree like I’m going to, you’ll be back in the hospital on meds rambling to some frightened nurse about how scary I am, just like you did before. Speaking of the ladies, I don’t think you realize something. This match isn’t mixed tag, it’s intergender. Meaning that Jezzebel isn’t safe from me and my partner. Meaning that you’ll have to do something that I don’t think you’ll have the heart to do, Max. You’ll have to put hands on my partner. You don’t have the heart to put your hands on a woman but see, I do. I ain’t above putting a bitch in her place. And I know everyone watching this is on the edge of their seats wondering who my partner is, unless you got on twitter and like to read Johnny Bonecrusher opening his shit-spewing mouth with spoilers. Seriously, you’re like an asshole that walks out of a movie theater talking shit while other people are waiting in line. Anyway, for those that got sense and aren’t reading up on keyboard warriors and their irrelevant opinions, I like to save the best for last, and I will do that. So Jezzebel…”

Frankie gives a half smile, and he leans down into the camera as if he’s literally talking down to her while he figuratively does so. ”How ya doin, pumpkin? And I call you pumpkin not for a cute term meaning sweetheart, but because you have big ol’ orange pumpkin tits and your face looks like a jack o'lantern. All my boys in the hood are taking bets on what you’re going to die of first, the Toe Tagger, or saline poisoning. I’m willing to bet that it’s both when I hit you so hard your tits are going to pop like Jiffy. Really sad that you feel the need to have to go under the knife to get yourself a talent upgrade. I mean, you put away Lucy Wylde and she was a mean lil piece of ass. And you put away others here too but let me ask you something… What makes you think you can really touch me? Go on, I’m waiting. I mean you’re partnering with a man that people might as well call my whipping boy now. You’re dating a loser who is just going to let everyone else in the locker room down, and I’m undefeated here, beating two other jokes who were undefeated before I got my hands on them. What really makes you think you can touch me? Is it because you like to do little sing-songs on some Freddy Krueger shit? You think that really scares me? I’ve seen shit growing up that would make you want to convert to sainthood, then you can be, again, as useless as Johnny Bonecrusher is.”

He scoffs, ”The Living Dead girl. You’re goddamn right! You’re a dead woman walking this Sunday and you know it! Bonecrusher, you can tweet about me having to bring Father Christmas, Uncle Buck, and all that bullshit but I’ll only need to bring Mother Nature because…” Mother Nature steps in front of Cocheese, flashing her famous cheshire grin, and giving a strong and prideful pose in front of him, before cooing into the camera, “Because Mother Nature’s a bitch!”

Frankie grins and nods his head knowingly, taking a step back and letting Mother Nature, a returning wrestler that some might remember from IPW, do her thing.

Those cruel dark green eyes peering into the lens of the camera as she just let out a dark laugh, “You… Both, think you can handle this?” Giving a small twirl as she just tilted her head back with a big grin to the camera, “Not even the entire nation of Canada can stop me…” A small wink was given to the camera before she stomped onto the stage of RWD, ”Hear me now and hear me clear! I am Mother Nature, and I have NEVER left. I have ALWAYS been here and ALWAYS will be.” Taking a moment to point into the camera she growled out, ”Don’t you ever think I can’t come and get you. I’ll pull you out of your home by your hair if it takes me. I don’t care who you are, what titles you may have, you will ALWAYS come to submit to me, Mother Nature.”

Taking a few steps around Frankie she’d just grin up to him before then smirking into the camera, ”And you can thank this big lug for it all…” Purred the Native Chieftess as she took a step off of him to squat down near the camera, tilting her head to it before speaking ”For those of you that don’t know me, I’m not a nice girl.. Never have I ever been. Just ask my five older brothers that got their asses handed to them by their little sister. I’m from the Rez. You don’t know suffering and depression till you have lived there. Fuck your Harlem, your New Orleans and even your Detroit. You know nothing of pain and hatred unless you are an American Indian. That’s why I’m here. I’m representing The Lost Nations, The Anishinaabae, and all of my brothers and sisters, but most importantly, I’m here to kick some White Devil’s teeth in.”

Those piercing, unforgiving green eyes glare deviously into the camera’s lens as she just cracked a smile, ”Now that lovely little introductions are out of the way, let’s get a few things straight with this side show, Bonecrusher… Who are you?” Smirking as her head tilted the other way with her long, dark brown, lightly curling hair flowing with it to the side, ”You see, you’re bellow me. Just another white boy from some lovely White family. The only thing you’re known for here in RWD is exactly what Frankie here talked of - useless shittalking. Please, let’s see what those scrawny arms can do to this body. I willingly ask you, ‘Bring It’, because I am certainly not afraid of you. Nor am I afraid of your lil friend that talks about wearing Cocheese as a coat, and using his skull to drink beer out of. Ey, we’ve been there on the Rez. Using what we can and all, but that’s nothing. You wanna talk fucked up? Let’s see you get fucked up with me in the ring. For all I’ve seen is nothing, but a big LOSER. I don’t just talk the talk, I bring the pain train and it doesn’t stop for pathetic wimps like you. I’m Mother Nature, I bring the rain, the sleet, the lightening and more importantly the thunder. You’ll never forget this fight. I’ll make sure to leave you in fear of what’s truly out there - ME!”

The woman let out a pleased sigh with herself, as she was just that very vain. Letting her knee push out so she may take a seat on the edge of the stage. Putting her elbows on her knees as she rested her head into her open palms, ”Dear RWD, what are we going to do with these cowards? Even more so, this reigning Queen by the name of Jezzabel.. Some Walking Dead Freak? Please, you wanna do some walking dead? That’s what you’ll be doing after this fight. You haven’t been hit hard until you feel me breaking those fake tits of yours. Those airbags are not stopping me from giving you a heart attack, ya fuckin’ hulk ass oompa loompa! You may be the favored one for now, but please.. The fun has just begun, for there is always quiet and peace before the storm…” Coo’d the woman as she gave a playful wink into the camera again. ”I will promise to hurt you, to leave you in fear, to bring you nightmares in your sleep, Living Dead Girl… Let’s see how long you live in the ring with me. There hasn’t been competition for you till I got here.”

Frankie puts his hand on her shoulder. Mother Nature turns to look to him and steps back as he steps forward. Frankie laughs while he does so. ”So to put it shortly, Maxwell’s getting beat like the dog he is, Jezzebel’s going to be put in the ground where she belongs, and Johnny Bonecrusher is gonna go back to Twitter and do what he does best, whine and complain. The man is constantly on my dick on twitter. Go look for yourself. He even tweeted me this morning after he tried to get at me last night. It’s like he wakes up thinking about me. Always on my dick.”

Frankie rolls his eyes. ”You can say what you want, but I’m bringing Mother Nature this sunday and you’re gonna wish you can talk to Father Time to turn back the clock and back out. Bet that!” He puts his right hand up in the form of a gun. ”See you when I see you!” He pulls his hand back. ”Boom!”

The scene fades out with Mother Nature folding her arms over Frankie’s shoulder and leaning against him while he grins menacingly.