Nobody’s Perfect

Nobody’s Perfect

Posted on July 15, 2020 at 7:26 pm by Hughie Freeman

A familiar setting in Alcatraz; Hughie Freeman’s sordid cell. It was the same setting that aired live at Refueled XXXII and since then health and safety standards haven’t improved. Perhaps, judging by the smell.. worse.

Hughie Freeman paces his cell wearing a thin bed sheet from his steel bed. It is draped over him like he’s Socrates or some other Greek god. His headdress forms in the shape of a dozen pillow feathers stuck on with sticky-tape. That, presumably, acting as some sort of crown. Additionally, Hughie Freeman reads from a William Shakespeare play-book that is held out in front of him as he continues to pace.

Hughie Freeman: To Be, or not to be: that is the question..

Hamlet, to be exact.

Hughie Freeman: You’re perfect in every sense of the word. You got the sexy bitch-boy looks, you got the natural born-given-talent, and you got the fucking world at your very feet. But as perfect as you may be.. that’s your downfall. Cos when you’re locked up in Alcatraz my friend you will need to clutch onto all of your imperfections. That being the total opposite of what you stand for. Why? Because you instantly become a target for killers like your man Hughie Freeman.

You fart? Perfect. And swear? Perfect.. you cunt. You’ll want to hold on to all of those imperfections. Cos you’re not walking on the set of any Disney cartoon.. you’re walking the mile into that rickety-old rotten HOW ring in the middle of Gen Pop. And believe me, nothing runs smoothly. The ropes.. stiffer. The canvas.. heavier. And the opponent not giving you a fucking inch.

Hughie Freeman continues to read passages from the play. He mutters certain phrases, almost like he’s trying to remember lines.

Hughie Freeman: Kinda cute you’re trying to find yourself. Fuck, I’ve been doing plenty of that myself in here. Know what I found..? How much HATE I can transfer from my brain into my four right-hand knuckles.

You’ve spent far too much time in Hollywood that your moral compass is pointing at deluded. Aye, you damn right I saw you last week on Refueled XXXII. You’re jumping from character to character like this is some Hollywood audition. Well come Refueled XXXIII, there’s gunna be no dress rehearsal my friend. Nah fella, you don’t get your private trailer here.. or a perfect little suite with topless women feeding you grapes. If you’re trying to find yourself then you won’t find it in Uncle Sam’s Devil Island. But trust me, when they scrape you off the mat and you finally get to leave Alcatraz it will be the best discovery you ever got. Maybe once it’s all over you will know who Perfection really is and quit the act. You won’t have to be pretend-sad, you’ll be crying like a bitch from ocean to hell-hole. Your man Hughie Freeman will create those tears and if it’s the Oscar you’re after my friend; congratulations on being crowned King Of The Fakes.

One man that cannot be typecast is your man Hughie Freeman. If you think I’ll make the baddest, meanest, sadistic motherfucker then you’re right. I’m not going to act any different. Cos Perfect.. I don’t know any different. I’m the outcast that can only play in his own caged playground that is as far away from HOW as humanly bloody possible. If I played the nice-guy.. I’d get found out. If I took on the role of Superman that you happen to play in HOW.. I’d be tussling it out with thirty seven ranked Black Mamba. I’d not know who I was or what I was capable of, Clark Cunt. But the thing is, in here.. Hughie Freeman is damn near perfect. The number one imperfect wrestler in HOW but out here where bullshit doesn’t travel; I’m the director, producer and writer.

But with a name like.. Perfection. It’s a burden I don’t need. Your man Hughie Freeman can only imagine what is going on outside of this fish bowl. Hughie this, and Hughie that. I’m creating my own history my friend. Head office will be advertising this as your meal ticket for you to clutch onto. My time is not for your entertainment. Your sheer presence in my workplace.. in my home; it makes me fucking HATE. A person who I don’t want to be. A person that got me here in the first place as some sort of punishment. A person that when Hughie Freeman HATES.. fireworks happen in peoples god damn faces. But seeing as though this is being used as some sort of holiday retreat. A little getaway for you HOW stars who need some sort of career retribution.. you’re not welcome. You’re not welcome, Perfection. Just how Steve Solex wasn’t and just how HOW are certainly not welcome.

Pot-shots are never Hughie Freeman’s game. That’s where you’re wrong, fella. But the difference between you and me is that you parade your outings like some sort of trophy. It never crossed my mind about your elimination due to the talent on showcase at War Games. But Perfection, the difference is.. I’m not here to take part; I’m here to take over. You can respect all of the top guys, cos the top guys have earned that damn respect. But the thing is.. Hughie Freeman will beat them all. And if he doesn’t, it will never cross my lips again. I won’t be singing and dancing about it cos Hughie failed. And I’d make sure that I did hill sprints till I puked or whatever it needed to have my day with them once again. Hughie Freeman does not settle for second, third, fourth.. or wherever the hell you float in ranking obscurity. Hughie Freeman wants the very best and if you are not it Perfection then turn the fucking plane around.

You can go fuck yourself with your little thank-you’s cos let me tell you our match in Gen Pop will be the hot-ticket. Everyone will be tuning in to see what the HOW have perceived to be a madman – what he will do next. When you’re paired with me, you’re paired with the golden goose. You don’t have to be starving my man.. cos win, lose or draw you’re stinky fucking rich when that bell sounds. This isn’t rubber.. it’s gold. No wonder the bailiffs have been knocking on your door, you frivolous prat.

Chris Kostoff might have his own little pay-per-view named after him on August 22nd. But Rumble At The Rock will forever be known as Hughie Freeman’s from this point on. The history of Al Capone and your very own Christopher America are long forgotten inside these walls. Alcatraz is a part of me just as much as Hughie Freeman is a part of Alcatraz. My punishment is really my pleasure. And you.. Perfection. You are not the visitor I crave, you are no pen pal of Hughie Freeman, and you don’t have to act the tough-guy that every fresh fish makes the mistake of.

You chose violence against The Minister but you failed. By your own admission you had the wrong game-plan. You’re on this quest for discovery and you’ve closed the cage door on violence itself. You’ve obviously eaten the key and it’s lodged somewhere between stomach and shit. Well take a look around you.. what do you see? It’s not all rainbows and making daisy-chains in here. Violence is your only fucking chance in here. Fuck, even if it doesn’t come natural to you you need that very essence to survive. Wrestling is not your friend in here and if you can’t dish out the violence then you’re the block’s bitch.

You can say whatever you want to say. You want to play mind games? You want to tell me what I’m saying isn’t important? Please your fucking self. At least with violence you stand a chance in here with me. You want to tell me you’re a better athlete? Actor? Fucking wrestler..?! You’re all that and a sprinkle of Perfection my friend. But you aren’t the star here. Your type of star doesn’t exist in this galaxy. The star in Alcatraz if you haven’t been watching.. can only be Hughie Freeman.

You will play dumb that this isn’t personal. Well, fishy-fishy.. it is. You see your little cast members Hollywood Bruvs managed a victory over your man Hughie Freeman when embroiled in HATE. That, my friend, being the only blemish on my – what could have been – perfect record. And that very match has kept me awake at night. Not the voices on the wing, but the laughter I can here in Chicago from your 2k4 band. My reputation took a dent, and in here.. reputation is everything. I can’t be considered The Man if you do the double over me. I’d be the laughingstock in the whole prison and roles would be reversed.. I’d be the bitch.

You’re more concerned with outside forces; Dan Ryan, 24K and shirt-sales. It really doesn’t matter. I HATE Scott Woodson’s guts.. and believe me, fella, he’s gunna get it at Rumble At The Rock. But my attention is on you Big Shot, and I’m knocking you the fuck out. You can put that on a t-shirt you ungrateful cock. And if it doesn’t fit.. sell some trousers.

You say the only thing you know about your man Hughie Freeman is that he was Scott Woodson’s biggest regret. Fuck mate, your moral compass is far past deluded and triggering on ridiculous. Fuck, I might not be anywhere near Chicago and the HOW product but I am HOW! Damn, there’s no silverware around my waist but there’s more than one way to skin a cat my friend. I’m living proof that you don’t need the corporate push to make yourself relevant. I’m a caged man, but everyone and their dog seems like they want to feed the budgie. They want a piece of the cake when before there were no invites to the party.

This opportunity you apparently don’t care about, or me, fella.. is your championship match you fool. Aye, if you beat Hughie Freeman in Alcatraz in Gen Pop then that makes Perfection every last thing you say you are… perfect. It just comes across unappreciative when you don’t get what this is. You’ve been part of TV culture for so long that you actually think Prison Break is for real. But there are no retakes.. it’s one and you’re done. It’s a broken jaw and a state of confusion. You’re baffled at what will go down and how foolish you were to treat this like any other run-of-the-mill match.

Perfection may not do gimmick matches but let me tell you a little secret.. your man Hughie Freeman doesn’t either. The fact that you think this is all storytelling and a bit of a spoof, only shows your arrogance. We’ve seen it here before in Alcatraz and that arrogance is beaten out of you with a sock filled with snooker balls. You don’t have the foggiest as to what is in store and that perfect face is getting smurfed up.

Gimmick nothing. I’m as real as it fucking gets. You’ve insulted me and the very cons that helped build this place. It took me a long time to realise this.. but Hughie Freeman belongs. Not for the crime; I’m still completely innocent. But cos I’ve never belonged anywhere before. My type has always gone against the grain and this obvious inconvenience for you needs to end rather quickly.

You got this self-entitlement about you that is begging to be whacked. That everything you do whether you win, lose, or draw is a mere coincidence or accident. But please, know this: when Hughie Freeman Fatality Punches you into Narnia and back again..

Realise one thing..

Please listen, now..

Fucking listen, alright..

….Nobody’s perfect.

Hughie Freeman then flings the play-book over his shoulder and looks deep into the lens that he chose to previously ignore.

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I LOVE.