My Fucking Island

My Fucking Island

Posted on October 28, 2021 at 11:56 pm by Scottywood

The sun is shining bright in San Francisco today, the warm beams of sun, cooking my ever so white and tattooed skin as I stand out in the middle of the prison yard at Alcatraz.  The HOTv crew has set up lights around the yard, a few production tables to the camera crew… but it’s mainly the same bare wasteland it has been for decades since the prison has been closed.  Too expensive to maintain… even though it was a true punishing place for the world’s worst soles.  So it makes perfect sense that one day a year, HOW descends upon these hallowed grounds.  Where the best of the best in the wrestling world… who are the worst of the worst people in the world… fight in some of the most brutal fights the wrestling world ever witnesses.

Let’s be clear… and I hope all seven of my opponents understand… there will be no match taking place in this prison yard.  There will be no wrestling taking place on this cold, unforgiving concrete.  This is going to be a fight… and if you aren’t prepared, it might just be one to your death.  I’m done fucking around with Mike Best and his pathetic and wimpy wrestling matches.  He dodged a real fight with me… and now I am going to take that all out on the seven men who will be locked in a prison yard with me.  The cliché is old, but it’s damn fucking true.  There will be nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.  These ten foot concrete wall were built to keep the worst criminals alive in… and the razorwize atop of them was place to punish anyone dumb enough to have thoughts of freedom.

The HOTv Title might be a prize for winning this match… but believe me, just surviving this prison yard is THE prize you all should be hoping for.  No matter how grizzled you are… no matter how experienced in the prison system you think you are… this match is going to change you.  Alcatraz is unlike anything you have ever experienced and for those of you stepping foot on this island for the first time on Saturday… I envy you.  For you will be meeting her for the first time… and it will be glorious.  It will be brutal, it will be gruesome, it will be fucking horrifying.

It will be glorious.

This is my fucking island.  Not because I may or may not have owned it years ago.  But because of what I have done on these grounds.  Blood spilled, bones broken and crucifixions.  It’s a high bar to meet… and high bar to surpass… but you all better fucking believe that I am going to invent new ways to torture each and everyone of you until that HOTv Title walks out of this yard with me.

It is not though why I am out here, breathing the fresh air instead of locked up in one of those cells, drinking my endless supply of beer like some fucking glutton.  Yeah, the whole deadly sins thing.  Deadly sins… who the fuck coined that dumbass phrase?  Some religious fuck who wanted to make drive home the point that if you take a bite of an apple you’re gonna die.  Another example of how religion is just a method to control the weak.  To make them behave.  What is wrong with being a glutton, or a sloth, or envious… excerpt that someone, at some point decided it was wrong so Billy wouldn’t be a lazy fuck and contribute to society, or spend all day wishing he had what John had.  Or in my case, so I wouldn’t drink all the beer in town so some of the rest of the folks could get a buzz.

My point, that I tangented from though, is that I am not in a cell because I am simply not under contract with HOW.  I don’t need to follow the rules and I can do whatever I want.  Like I said, there is no wrestling match taking place here on Saturday, it is a fight with no rules and as such I don’t need a wrestling contract to compete in it.  Go, get the lawyers and tell me I’m wrong, but by that time I will have won the HOTv Title and hold it hostage from all of HOW.  Because if you thought I was done stirring things up in HOW, or causing waves… then your sin is fucking ignorance. 

Suddenly my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket, the ever so annoying voice of Brittney Spears starts emanating from it.  Yes, Bobbinette convinced me to make her theme song her ringtone… there are just some battles you decide are not worth fighting.

I pull my phone out and answer it, asking Carey where she was.  I thought she was meeting me here in the prison yard.  I was wrong.  Instead she is… gathering women together?  Something about the lack of them on the Rumble at the Rock card.  Oh this should be a sight to see, please let it happen before my match so I have an excuse to be somewhere else preparing. 

This is not what I need from her before I am going into another big match.  I need to be focusing on finding a way to rip that scorpion tattoo JJR stole from Scott Stevens off his neck and jam the fucking stinger in his eye.  I need to find a way to sever a testicle from Jiles, Bobby and Doozer… crack them open in a pan and serve the resulting omelette to Brian Hollywood.  He certainly seems to love having Zion’s balls in his fucking mouth.  I need to find a weapon that will scare the fucking shit out of even QT Reese, so he soils that cheap ass sponsored… apron?  Is that really a fucking apron?  Maybe I should tell Carey there is a woman on the Rumble card after all.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I’m supposed to be Scottywoke or whatever dumb fucking name those asshats backstage are calling me this week.  So instead I cut my call off with Carey, I tell her to have fun with whatever she is planning, I tell her I need to keep preparing, I need to take in every inch of this prison yard before the fight begins.  

Kneeling down I place my hand on the concrete ground, feeling the cracks from decades of wear and tear.  From the prisons as they relish their rare moment of freedom from their cages.  From the harsh San Francisco Bay weather, the main reason why this island was such a spot for the toughest prison in America.

Oh how much fun it would have been to be here back in the day.  I would have loved it.  I would have felt right at home.  It’s why despite not needing to be here before the match on Saturday, here I am.  I may even spend the night in my cell that has been reserved for me.  It is not a punishment to be here.  It’s not torture to be locked up in one of those cells.  It will change some before this match… weaken them.  Those that it doesn’t… that instead it strengthens.  They will be my toughest competition on Saturday.  They will lose, don’t get me wrong.  But they will at least put up a fun fight until I am once again crowned the best here at Alcatraz.

Now we can play games guessing who that will be… but it of course will be the man with the shitty prison tat above his fucking eye.  What does it say there JJR… that you’re someone’s prison bitch?  That you have poor taste in tattoos?  Which coming from me should be quite the fucking insult.  I get it, you’re a fucking tough guy, you check all the boxes.  Menacing look, face tattoo, did time in the ole clink.  It’s almost as if you were created for this match.  It’s gonna be fun facing off against you and maybe, just maybe afterwards I’ll care enough about you to learn what the fuck those three letters stand for.  But trust me when I say that no matter how bad fucking ass you think you are… you are stepping into my fucking world on Saturday.  This is no prison… this is Alcatraz.  And this is no ordinary fight… it’s a fight against Scottywood.

I don’t know if you took up religion when locked up mister double J to the fucking R… but if you do, get on your hands and knees and pray… beg… beg motherfucker beg that the fucking Anti-Christ only shows you a new definition of what pain is.  You think you have suffered in the past.  You think you have had a hard life.  Well welcome to HOW… welcome to my world… my planet.  And there will be no fancy logo or beer served in souvenir glasses on this planet.  This one is far from some chain to put some money in my pocket and have free places I can drink at.  No, there is something else brewing here on Alcatraz… and I promise you all a show that none of you will ever forget…

IF any of you are lucky enough to survive it.

Taking one last look around Alcatraz, I wonder, will it be my last.  Will Rumble at the Rock be the end of my HOW career.  Riding off on a boat back to San Francisco with the HOTv Title as my hostage as they beg, plead with me to sign a new contract.  Oh HOW fucking funny would that be?