But through all this chatter, another subject has been addressed. That subject being a new wrestler in the ranks of the BLPW. That wrestler being "The Rough-Housing Redneck" Jovial Jake. Word has it that he'll surprise the fans more than they expect him to. Some fans have even spent countless hours on the Internet, trying to dig up information on this fella. Not many of them could find anything, and what they did find wasn't very useful.
Today, we begin to follow this man as he wanders about. What could possibly happen?
It's already dark in Florida. Has been for a few hours now, and the camera comes to focus on a sign that reads "Uncle Levi's Tavern." Cutting inside, through the smoke-filled air, we see the BLPW rookie Jovial Jake sitting comfortably on a bar stool. He's got a beer mug in his hand about halfway full with the thick, piss-colored, malt drink brewed fresh from hops and barley.
Jake tilts his head back and takes a drink from the mug, then turns back to whoever he's talking to. Some other dude, about something or other. Hey, I got an idea! Let's tune in to find out!
Jake: ... and I kid you not, that day-gone bull bucked me off quicker 'en you can say "shallow grave." Next thing I know, that sumbitch was stomping my shoulder into the ground.
Other Guy: Damn. Sounds like if you'd justa tightened the rope a bit more you'da had 'im.
Jake: Mebbe. All I know is after that, I was done with the rodeo business. I'd pry be world champ right now had I stayed in.
Other Guy: Probably. You was a real good rider when you did it.
Jake: That's what I hear.
Other Guy: So what're you doing now?
Jake: I'm a pro-wrastler.
Other Guy: Really?
Jake: Yep. Gonna be debuting in that BadLands Pro Wrestling this Thursday.
Other Guy: Nice.
Jake: Yeah I s'pose so. Gotta face me some jobber or somethin' like that. Like it matters.
Other Guy: Well if you're half as good in the ring as you were on a bull, there ain't nobody gonna be in yer way.
Jake: Somethin' like 'at. Anyway, I gotta be going.
Other Guy: Okay. Nice talkin' with ya.
Jake: You too, take 'er easy.
Jake finishes his beer and slaps some money down on the bar. He calmly walks out of the bar and heads for his truck, which is still covered from front-to-back in dried mud. Think his hobby is mudding? Nah... it's gotta be... CROQUET!! Yeah... that's it... croquet.
Either way, can you imagine that sumbitch notices the camera on the way to his truck? I wouldn't of even dreamt it. In an almost instinctive motion, Jake walks to the camera, as if he's drawn to it by a force greater than his weiner.
Jake: Well, I'll be a preacher's daughter gettin' humped doggy-style. Ya done found the place, huh? I was wondering if y'all was gonna git here or not. I got a message fer y'all to deliver to this J-BBER feller.
Jake pauses momentarily to reach into a pouch labeled "Levi Garret." He pulls a wad of chewing tobacco out and shoves it in his cheek. He chews on it for a few moments, then spits a fine stream of tobacco juice onto the ground.
Jake: Now you listen good. I dunno much about mexican fellers, but I do know that I ain't gonna be shown up by anybody, let alone you. You better prepare yourself for a match like none other, 'cause I'm bringin' it all and not a bit of it is gonna go to waste. Well... at least it shouldn't. Unfortunately, in your case, it is gonna go to waste just because it's you. Oh well. Everybody's gotta pay their due's at some point.
At least them staff fellers ain't lookin' down upon me too bad. I don't have to open the show and I'd say that's just fine with me.
I'll see you Thursday, J-BBER. I'll bring the ass-kicking, you bring the ass.
Jake walks off and the scene cuts to the ant races (fuzz/static).
Disclaimer: No persons were drunk during the writing of this RP. J-BBER tripped over an extension cord and the Kung Fu Kid is rumored to have discovered a way to literally kick his own ass.