BWade
Grandma Took Me Home
Jake Evans vs Leyenda de Ocho
Standard Rules Apply.
Deadline 8/26/12 11:59pm EST
Standard Rules Apply.
Deadline 8/26/12 11:59pm EST
CR10: Jake Evans vs Leyenda de Ocho
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TheHopper
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- Apr 12, 2012
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"I don't have long, so let's get this over with already!"
[The gruff words are put to a face quickly as the camera finds old Jake Evans, the "tar-heeled redneck" himself, storming into the room and sitting down in the lone chair with the green backdrop behind it. Jake takes a look behind him and just shrugs it off.]
"Yer gonna put some stupid scene behind me with that computer after I finish, ain't ya?"
[He shrugs again, obviously being told yes by the camera crew. He speaks almost under his breath and disgusted.]
"I dunno what the hell kinda league ya'll are runnin' here..."
[He looks up and immediately holds out his hand, probably getting the camera crew to shut up before they begin explaining their intentions.]
"I don't give a rat's ass what ya put back there, how ya do it, or even why the hell ya do it. Fact of the matter is, I'm here to send a message...well a couple of messages really."
[He sits back in the chair and has a plain, almost normal look on his face.]
"I want to address Stephen Waltz first...
"Steve, I really am sorry. I didn't intend to kick yer ass so bad ya'd be off the roster for weeks. There are times when I get in the squared circle and I see red....
"I'd like to say that this was a one time thing, but it isn't. I know that and everyone now knows that as well. Yer a sacrificial lamb that got led to the slaughter and made an example of. I doubt these morons learn the lesson because most of them are about as goddamn stupid as a slug, but it was a lesson that had to be taught.
"I'd also like to say how sorry I am for that pain and agony yer in now..."
[He pauses for a second and a grin comes over his face.]
"I can't do this with a straight face and none of yuins are man enough to make me."
[Another glare to the camera crew.]
"Right?"
[Obvious affirmation.]
"I thought so.....pussies."
[Jake rolls his eyes before he continues.]
"Listen, I'm told to sit down right here and express my sincere regrets or whatever kind of shit they need me to say so that little Stevie's family don't sue for dangerous work environment or some shit like that.
"Son, this is wrasslin'. This ain't some basket-weavin' exhibition where ya can't get hurt. Hell, odds are ya WILL get hurt at some point. Ask that retarded masked moron from Chain Reaction Nine. I'm sure he didn't get all pissy about tweakin' his knee.
"Well maybe he did, we ain't heard much from him lately.
"But the point is this is not a profession where ya will never suffer some pain. If ya thought that is what ya signed up fer, then yer about the biggest dipshit this side of those Indians who sold Manhatten Island for some plants and shit.
"Grow up, drop those balls out of yer stomach, and get back in the ring. Just don't come back near me because next time, I'll straight kill ya, son."
[The confident look is mesmerizing. You can see the intensity in his eyes and the knowledge of waging war int he ring for years.]
"How the hell do ya pronounce that name anyway?
"Lay Eeeendoe?
"Lay Endo? Damn, this guy must be a closet rope sucker if he likes gettin' laid in the endo."
[Jake chuckles to himself at his joke, which was about as stupid a joke as can be told and probably something Ocho has heard about a million times. Jake's chuckling subsides.]
"Let's just go with 'Legendo De Ouchie.' That sound good 'nuff for me.
"Any problems with that?"
[Yeah right, like they are gonna say anything to him right now. I'm betting even money one of them has pissed himself already due to Jake's glares in their direction already.]
"Alright, here's the deal, Ouchie...
"I don't have any reason to dislike ya. I don't have any reason to like ya neither. This makes ya kinda a quandry for me.
"On one hand I can admire someone who comes out and performs so well that his opponent suffers an injury. I can respect the hell outta that because that is what I come out and try to do every damn time I step in the arena.
"I've heard ya have some skill. I've heard that ya can be tough to figure out in the ring. It is always smart to try and keep yer opponent off his game a little here and there. However, there might be sumthin' ya need to understand 'bout good ol' Jake...
[That grin returns on his face.]
"I ain't some fresh-faced punk who falls for shit. It don't take long to figure out game plans and I gauran-damn-tee ya that if ya try any of that garbage ya did to the masked retard with me....
"Ya'll end up in a body bag. I don't play games. I don't mess around.
'Ya better come at me with more fire in yer belly than ya had in yer last match because I'm the real deal. I'm not some moron who can be talked into actin' a certain way at any given time.
"I'm a grown-ass man that will seal yer fate for ya."
[The grin is gone as the more he talks about what he is and can do, the intensity returns to his glare.]
"I'll even tell ya what is gonna happen.
"I'm gonna take ya to the mat and pound yer face with my fist. Then, I'm gonna throw ya so hard into the corner that the ring might fall to pieces.
"IF the ring survives that, then I'm going to bend yer legs around the ring post so hard that yer knees will not work right again.
"I'll tear ya apart limb from limb and eventually the sheep in the stands will start beggin' this tar-heeled redneck to finish the match and spare yer pitiful career. That is when I grab yar elbow and break it into two pieces."
[A slow nodding of the head.]
"That's right, Ouchie....I don't play. I don't waste time with all the dancin' and the flash.
"I'm gonna walk down the aisle, step in the ring, and just go right to whoppin' yar ass in front of every person in the arena.
"And when it is all said and done, I know ya will understand what it means when I tell people they will all eventually...."
[Very nasty glare of intense anger as he finishes.]
"Feel...
"the....
"Fear."
[He gets up and walks away as the screen goes black.]
[The gruff words are put to a face quickly as the camera finds old Jake Evans, the "tar-heeled redneck" himself, storming into the room and sitting down in the lone chair with the green backdrop behind it. Jake takes a look behind him and just shrugs it off.]
"Yer gonna put some stupid scene behind me with that computer after I finish, ain't ya?"
[He shrugs again, obviously being told yes by the camera crew. He speaks almost under his breath and disgusted.]
"I dunno what the hell kinda league ya'll are runnin' here..."
[He looks up and immediately holds out his hand, probably getting the camera crew to shut up before they begin explaining their intentions.]
"I don't give a rat's ass what ya put back there, how ya do it, or even why the hell ya do it. Fact of the matter is, I'm here to send a message...well a couple of messages really."
[He sits back in the chair and has a plain, almost normal look on his face.]
"I want to address Stephen Waltz first...
"Steve, I really am sorry. I didn't intend to kick yer ass so bad ya'd be off the roster for weeks. There are times when I get in the squared circle and I see red....
"I'd like to say that this was a one time thing, but it isn't. I know that and everyone now knows that as well. Yer a sacrificial lamb that got led to the slaughter and made an example of. I doubt these morons learn the lesson because most of them are about as goddamn stupid as a slug, but it was a lesson that had to be taught.
"I'd also like to say how sorry I am for that pain and agony yer in now..."
[He pauses for a second and a grin comes over his face.]
"I can't do this with a straight face and none of yuins are man enough to make me."
[Another glare to the camera crew.]
"Right?"
[Obvious affirmation.]
"I thought so.....pussies."
[Jake rolls his eyes before he continues.]
"Listen, I'm told to sit down right here and express my sincere regrets or whatever kind of shit they need me to say so that little Stevie's family don't sue for dangerous work environment or some shit like that.
"Son, this is wrasslin'. This ain't some basket-weavin' exhibition where ya can't get hurt. Hell, odds are ya WILL get hurt at some point. Ask that retarded masked moron from Chain Reaction Nine. I'm sure he didn't get all pissy about tweakin' his knee.
"Well maybe he did, we ain't heard much from him lately.
"But the point is this is not a profession where ya will never suffer some pain. If ya thought that is what ya signed up fer, then yer about the biggest dipshit this side of those Indians who sold Manhatten Island for some plants and shit.
"Grow up, drop those balls out of yer stomach, and get back in the ring. Just don't come back near me because next time, I'll straight kill ya, son."
[The confident look is mesmerizing. You can see the intensity in his eyes and the knowledge of waging war int he ring for years.]
"How the hell do ya pronounce that name anyway?
"Lay Eeeendoe?
"Lay Endo? Damn, this guy must be a closet rope sucker if he likes gettin' laid in the endo."
[Jake chuckles to himself at his joke, which was about as stupid a joke as can be told and probably something Ocho has heard about a million times. Jake's chuckling subsides.]
"Let's just go with 'Legendo De Ouchie.' That sound good 'nuff for me.
"Any problems with that?"
[Yeah right, like they are gonna say anything to him right now. I'm betting even money one of them has pissed himself already due to Jake's glares in their direction already.]
"Alright, here's the deal, Ouchie...
"I don't have any reason to dislike ya. I don't have any reason to like ya neither. This makes ya kinda a quandry for me.
"On one hand I can admire someone who comes out and performs so well that his opponent suffers an injury. I can respect the hell outta that because that is what I come out and try to do every damn time I step in the arena.
"I've heard ya have some skill. I've heard that ya can be tough to figure out in the ring. It is always smart to try and keep yer opponent off his game a little here and there. However, there might be sumthin' ya need to understand 'bout good ol' Jake...
[That grin returns on his face.]
"I ain't some fresh-faced punk who falls for shit. It don't take long to figure out game plans and I gauran-damn-tee ya that if ya try any of that garbage ya did to the masked retard with me....
"Ya'll end up in a body bag. I don't play games. I don't mess around.
'Ya better come at me with more fire in yer belly than ya had in yer last match because I'm the real deal. I'm not some moron who can be talked into actin' a certain way at any given time.
"I'm a grown-ass man that will seal yer fate for ya."
[The grin is gone as the more he talks about what he is and can do, the intensity returns to his glare.]
"I'll even tell ya what is gonna happen.
"I'm gonna take ya to the mat and pound yer face with my fist. Then, I'm gonna throw ya so hard into the corner that the ring might fall to pieces.
"IF the ring survives that, then I'm going to bend yer legs around the ring post so hard that yer knees will not work right again.
"I'll tear ya apart limb from limb and eventually the sheep in the stands will start beggin' this tar-heeled redneck to finish the match and spare yer pitiful career. That is when I grab yar elbow and break it into two pieces."
[A slow nodding of the head.]
"That's right, Ouchie....I don't play. I don't waste time with all the dancin' and the flash.
"I'm gonna walk down the aisle, step in the ring, and just go right to whoppin' yar ass in front of every person in the arena.
"And when it is all said and done, I know ya will understand what it means when I tell people they will all eventually...."
[Very nasty glare of intense anger as he finishes.]
"Feel...
"the....
"Fear."
[He gets up and walks away as the screen goes black.]
brusch
Main Event Caliber
(In the locker room of the Moss Bay Event Center. Leyenda de Ocho is seated on a bench, unmasked, leg bouncing as he watches a tiny TV in the corner. Jake Evans is on the screen, delivering the sort of blistering lines that can only come from a wily veteran. Ocho's left leg is bouncing nervously, his dirty blonde hair a completely disheveled mess on his head.)
Ocho: "Spooky...Spooky Spooky Spooky Spooky Spooky..."
(Evans's "Legendo de Ouchie" line can be faintly head as the camera continues to focus on Ocho. Leg still bouncing, a slight strain in his voice.)
Ocho: "I'm...going to be completely honest here. I don't know if I can handle this."
(Ocho looks behind the camera, reacting to some change in facial expression delivered by the cameraman. He instantly looks at the camera and shakes his head.)
Ocho: "No no no no, I don't mean facing Jake Evans. It's not that. It's...
...ok, do you really want to know?" (Ocho sighs, slightly smiles, and shakes his head again. Leg still bouncing, though a bit slower.) "I don't want this to turn into a therapy session or anything. Here we go.
When I was a kid, people said I had issues...issues with obsession. It wasn't weird for a young boy to like playing video games, but no one else was as dedicated. I would play the same game over and over...try to find the fastest routes, over and over and over again, until I dreamed in the game. I slept and was sucked into pixels and 8-bit music. Then I would move onto another game, and another game.
And another. And another.
I have problems letting go of things...it's just one of my things. I can't let go of something until I've seen its conclusion, and until I know everything there is to know about it. I didn't put down Super Mario Bros. 3 until I could beat it in under an hour...I didn't put down Zelda: Link to the Past until I could 100% it in under three hours...I didn't put down Final Fantasy until I had beaten every game in the franchise.
It's something I thought I could isolate to that one part of myself...something that could be separate from wrestling. But...Chain Reaction 9 was my first match that didn't have a clear resolution. And I learned something about myself...
...I can't let it go."
(More dialogue from Evans: "I ain't some fresh-faced punk who falls for shit..." Ocho takes notice, and turns hard towards the camera, his emerald green eyes burning a hole through the lens.)
Ocho: "I'm not trying to make you fall for anything, Jake. And there's a big difference between you and I...you like hurting people. Spooky Doom was the first guy I ever injured, and...I don't like it. I don't want to do it ever again, to anyone else, for two main reasons:
1) I've already been so close to never wrestling for the IWF again...I would feel incredible guilt if I ever caused someone else to suffer that fate.
2) And maybe this is specific to me. And maybe this is my personal problem...I cannot handle it when I don't have a resolution. I came into Chain Reaction 9 with a mission, and then things got personal...and now that they're personal, I can't do anything about it. And it's driving me crazy.
I need an end. I need to know if I can hang with the best flyers in the IWF. I need. To. Know.
...Crazy's kind of a funny word, isn't it?"
(Ocho glances up at the screen: "Feel...the...Fear.")
Ocho: "What's even funnier...
...I think the thing I'm most afraid of is myself."
(Fade to black)
Ocho: "Spooky...Spooky Spooky Spooky Spooky Spooky..."
(Evans's "Legendo de Ouchie" line can be faintly head as the camera continues to focus on Ocho. Leg still bouncing, a slight strain in his voice.)
Ocho: "I'm...going to be completely honest here. I don't know if I can handle this."
(Ocho looks behind the camera, reacting to some change in facial expression delivered by the cameraman. He instantly looks at the camera and shakes his head.)
Ocho: "No no no no, I don't mean facing Jake Evans. It's not that. It's...
...ok, do you really want to know?" (Ocho sighs, slightly smiles, and shakes his head again. Leg still bouncing, though a bit slower.) "I don't want this to turn into a therapy session or anything. Here we go.
When I was a kid, people said I had issues...issues with obsession. It wasn't weird for a young boy to like playing video games, but no one else was as dedicated. I would play the same game over and over...try to find the fastest routes, over and over and over again, until I dreamed in the game. I slept and was sucked into pixels and 8-bit music. Then I would move onto another game, and another game.
And another. And another.
I have problems letting go of things...it's just one of my things. I can't let go of something until I've seen its conclusion, and until I know everything there is to know about it. I didn't put down Super Mario Bros. 3 until I could beat it in under an hour...I didn't put down Zelda: Link to the Past until I could 100% it in under three hours...I didn't put down Final Fantasy until I had beaten every game in the franchise.
It's something I thought I could isolate to that one part of myself...something that could be separate from wrestling. But...Chain Reaction 9 was my first match that didn't have a clear resolution. And I learned something about myself...
...I can't let it go."
(More dialogue from Evans: "I ain't some fresh-faced punk who falls for shit..." Ocho takes notice, and turns hard towards the camera, his emerald green eyes burning a hole through the lens.)
Ocho: "I'm not trying to make you fall for anything, Jake. And there's a big difference between you and I...you like hurting people. Spooky Doom was the first guy I ever injured, and...I don't like it. I don't want to do it ever again, to anyone else, for two main reasons:
1) I've already been so close to never wrestling for the IWF again...I would feel incredible guilt if I ever caused someone else to suffer that fate.
2) And maybe this is specific to me. And maybe this is my personal problem...I cannot handle it when I don't have a resolution. I came into Chain Reaction 9 with a mission, and then things got personal...and now that they're personal, I can't do anything about it. And it's driving me crazy.
I need an end. I need to know if I can hang with the best flyers in the IWF. I need. To. Know.
...Crazy's kind of a funny word, isn't it?"
(Ocho glances up at the screen: "Feel...the...Fear.")
Ocho: "What's even funnier...
...I think the thing I'm most afraid of is myself."
(Fade to black)