Laying something BIG

Laying something BIG

Posted on September 24, 2020 at 9:42 pm by Hughie Freeman

Looking out from his cell window in Alcatraz on H wing (Hell wing) is The Famous Gypsy Warrior himself: Hughie Freeman.

Hell wing is exactly what it says on the tin. It really is hell on Earth with all of the most dangerous inmates being housed there. From murderers, rapists, gang members and.. arsonist travellers.

Regardless of the implanted horror etched deep on this wing and its history.. out of that small horizontal window looking out to the California waters is true beauty.

Hughie Freeman clutches onto the bars and peers out of it. Presumably stood on something to see the view. The footage rolls from outside of the prison and onto the imprisoned star as he observes in pure admiration for life itself.

HUGHIE: It’s funny, this Bandit shit..

From everything they’ve been through.. Tag team championship glory, raining eggs, Dan Ryan cardboard cutouts, even Max Kael being a temporary member of the muched LOVED protein family.

And with everything they’ve been through.. from all of the air-time they’ve egged-timed past ridiculous.. they go out like that. They fuck off our screens with their fluffy tails between their legs without any obnoxious cabaret act we’re used to seeing from them.

When Bobby Dean farted.. It blew through the keyhole and nobody gave a flying frig anymore. Suddenly, the joke wore thin and the ‘muched LOVED’ left through the catflap on the backdoor without even as much as a Kinder Egg for their troubles.

Freeman sniffs the air with one huge inhale through his nose.

HUGHIE: Cos let me tell you a little secret..

Freeman looks left and right, suspiciously.

When your man wanted out of HATE, when he looked around and saw a bunch of fakers. Who professed HATE but baked brownies instead.. I left my mark. I went big.. and was prepared to do the time to fit the crime. I..

HUGHIE (clear whisper): I burnt a face.

And whilst you are happy to go quietly into the night, Jiles. You and your circus act.. your man is the polar opposite. If that had been your man Hughie Freeman.. I’d of Fatality Punched Doozer, hogtied Bobby (apple in mouth like he’s some pot bellied pig), and bit RICK’s tongue off as I gave him the final kiss goodbye.

Freeman chews on one of the bars like a caged rat. Or house hamster if you much prefer.

HUGHIE: You might not give a toss about me, Jiles. That’s fine, mate. Cos what I’ve found when being locked up in Alcatraz is.. not many people do care for the Pikey Fuck. But your man could care less for anyone’s sympathy. Cos fella, the less LOVE you show this pikey.. The more HATE fuels inside. Did you not learn anything from that big loveable hippo, RICK? That cunt chose to HATE when all your man needed was someone to put their arm around me. All your HOW Resident Pikey needed was someone he could rely on. All I fucking needed was LOVE!

But the more and more all of you HATE.. the more and more your man feels at home. Cos HATE comes so natural to a con like me. Whether in Alcatraz or on a local egg hunt.. I’ll HATE you just as much as you HATE me. Your man will HATE you until you are black and blue and have a face like The Elephant Man.

Freeman pulls on the bars, but to no avail.

HUGHIE: Shaori, tai chi, yoga.. Some LSD trip where you think you’re Silent Witness; the greatest LSD champion of all time. This is not some special skill your man Hughie Freeman has to watch out for. Cos Jiles, this is not a skill you know. Regardless if you got it out of an Easter egg. What this is is a sign, mate.. A sign of a completely desperate man. It’s a sign to say you aint comfortable in your own sexy skin that you want to try everything in the book to try and somehow beat Hughie Freeman one-on-one. Bullshit or no bullshit, mind games or no mind games.. the seed of doubt is there you Shaolin Shithouse.

You talk about the last time. Okay fella, let’s talk about the last time. The last time me and you squared off – but also the kitchen sink, the ladder and every other distraction Scottywood wanted to add to ‘the last time’ was in that fucking match. The match that was designed by HOW to be the number one contenders for the LSD championship.. certainly for you, but not for your man Hughie Freeman.

I know the best Hughie Freeman will beat the best of anybody. From any man falling out of his mother. And certainly.. any girl, man or cartoon bunny on that HOW roster. They could try and learn the art of ‘death in the pinky finger’ overnight but it wouldn’t fucking matter. Cos whatever trick you wonna pull.. your man has seen it and kicked the fuck out of it all over the fields of Cork, now Alcatraz, and soon to be in the main event at the famous Best Arena.

You wonna point the finger at me, questioning whether I can deal with the big occasion. That I’m gunna shit the bed when the time comes. Well you just fucking wait cos this is the stage I belong on. Not in Uncle Sam’s arse. But the same can be fired right back at you, partner.. The guy that wants to rub a victory over Hughie Freeman in his face, but knows he has to retrain in every aspect of his game to compete with me. Almost like the confidence has been zapped from you, and you know in your heart-of-hearts that facing me one-on-one is a whole different ball game.

Now if you want to flip flop between styles then go right ahead you fraud. Cos truth be told, the tedious days and nights get to your man in here as well. But let’s share, cos it’s nice to share; sharing is fucking caring. Aye, sometimes even your man likes to fantasize. Sometimes Hughie Freeman likes to imagine he’s on a tropical island somewhere wearing nothing more than a grass skirt and a coconut bra. But the fact is, fella.. I’m here. Your man can’t flip flop and pretend I’m something I’m not. Rightly or wrongly.. your man is a criminal and that’s something I get to live with here every minute of every day.

You, my friend.. are not a ninja turtle; you’re a Bandit. Granted fella.. the Easter bunny got greedy before Easter but you are and always will be a Bandit. Aye, more cutthroat than the rest of the hacks. But do me a favour my friend.. when it’s over, take it like a man.. and not like a wet Bandit.

Where your man likes to go BIG.. putting his neck on the line; in the very heart of battle. Not concerned on getting clipped on the way in or what public perception might make of The Famous Gypsy Warrior. Your cute little egg throwing act is nothing more than your safety net for not getting hurt. It’s your go-to to keep you away from main event waters cos you don’t believe you have what it takes. It’s Bobby Dean’s tit to suck on, but when Bobby ain’t here no more, and you’ve ran out of eggs.. all you got left is your thumb bonny lad.

It’s one thing to win a big match, the other is to beat an opponent that has more tricks than any Kung Fu Panda or Karate Kid. Tricks that leave you breathless, grind on your very soul and body, and rabbit punching.. chipping away at your very shell.

I’ve been fighting since 1988 my friend.. the laws of fight have to be approved by your man first.

Freeman squeals like a crazed lunatic as he hangs on the bars. Until he rapidly returns to calmness in a matter of seconds.

HUGHIE: Fondnes you have for the LSD championship is common. Its fucking gold mate.. It’s blinding you. Cos where wins and losses meant fuck all to you Bandits in the past; it means something to you now, Jiles. You’ve thrown every egg underneath the bus for your own greed. But mate.. that doesn’t make you worthy. It means you’re a commoner who got stinking rich and forgot where he came from.

Freeman holds his arm out of the window to signal like he’s hitchhiking, animatedly.

HUGHIE: My obsession to have and to hold that same LSD title goes far beyond the common man’s greed. It is your man’s calling card.. my way fucking out. It’s my golden ticket all the way to the HOW chocolate factory. I’d happily kick a dwarf in the head if it meant getting out and to have the respect as a proper fighting champion

Scottywood has not had a fist fight in forever and you can bet your sweet arse he’s already thinking of excuses on why he can’t face me at Rumble At The Rock. For my fucking freedom? He spits on your man’s freedom. But naw.. not if I bring to the party his most prized possession. His whole life, his legacy and his whole fucking being. HIS LSD title. Then.. your man is in the driving seat. Then.. Hughie Freeman gets to call the shots. And then.. I get to be the greatest LSD champion that ever lived as a free fucking man.

“Sera one to sera four..”

The unidentified sound startles Freeman.

Inside the cell is now viewable as Hughie Freeman jumps down off his bed.. totally naked. Not only is Freeman butt-naked but also in the middle of a dirty protest it would seem. Human excrement is smeared all over his cell walls and floor. Also smeared on himself in the process might I add. Freeman has demonstrated his best artistic side by the word ‘LSD’ being rubbed in on the wall.. in shit.

“Sera one to sera four..”

Hughie Freeman walks over to a fallen H.A.T.E guard who looks to be unconscious lying in shit.

“Sera one to sera four.. come in.”

Freeman grabs the radio from the fallen guard and takes a moment to choose his words correctly. Identifying that’s where the disruption is coming from.

HUGHIE: Free-Man to sera one..

There is no response on the radio.

HUGHIE: Mayday! Mayday..! Man down! Man down!

Suddenly, the prison alarm siren blares all around. However, Hughie does not fret. Rather, smiles at the fact he’s in complete control. He then drops the radio and grabs the guard by the scruffs.

HUGHIE: I’m gunna cook up something real special for you..

The guard, meanwhile.. still completely out of it.

HUGHIE: You don’t trust your man to have any knives when cooking your bastard food..

Hughie slaps the guard.

HUGHIE: What? My fucking beans on toast not good enough for ya?!

Freeman releases his grip and lets the guard fall back on the floor. Meanwhile, he stands over the helpless man.. if he were to suddenly wake up the unkept crinkled bits of his fruit and veg would be the first thing he would see.

HUGHIE: It’s been in the slow cooker since morning..

Freeman looks at his bare wrist; mimicking wearing a watch.

HUGHIE: DING..! It’s ready!

Freeman turns and squats over the beaten guard. Meanwhile, chaos outside of the cell and on the wing from the other frantic H.A.T.E guards takeover. However, it does not stop a naked gypsy.

HUGHIE: When one dies.. Another is born!

Hughie Freeman groans and strains with all of his might.

An upward shot visualizes from the guard’s point of view and it’s the tip of a hard boiled egg escaping Hughie Freeman’s arse.

HUGHIE: Can you see the fucking head yet..?!

The remainder of the egg is forced out and perfectly falls and nestles in the H.A.T.E guards mouth.

Meanwhile, the cell door is in the middle of being barged down as H.A.T.E guards and sirens go wild, respectively.

HUGHIE: Come on CUNTS..! You know the drill!!!


The final shot is of naked Hughie Freeman covered in his own shit.. fully at peace; smiling and slowly closing his eyes in tranquility.

HOW meanwhile, take the last shot through the bars of the window and across the Cali waters as their final running visual.