- Event: Refueled XXXIX
Being locked up in Alcatraz does not silence your man Hughie Freeman. You think cos I’ve been shut off from the world of HOW that I can play by your merry Undead tune. That what I did to a certain Pumpkin’s face won’t be a single drop in the whole of the Californian waters if something similar were to go down here. You think that cos you can contain Hughie’s unpredictability that it’s not as hazardous to the HOW product. That if your man were to strike the match.. it’d only be a little sparkler going off in an abandoned concrete jungle.
But even when you think it’s all rosey in the garden, and you can rely on your man Hughie Freeman. Even when you think you can read my next move, or relax around me.. you get knocked the fuck out; tag partners, family, friends….. and cunts.
Remember… never trust a pikey.
Back within a familiar setting; unpleasant, crummy, stinking.. hell. It’s Alcatraz prison of course. But at peace with his surroundings is The Famous Gypsy Warrior, Hughie Freeman. Regardless of a trickling stream of sewage water running through it, Freeman is fully acclimatized it seems. He lays there in his lonely shoddy cell at full stretch on his rigid bed. Hughie has one leg crossed over the other whilst he reads a book.
Bizarrely, almost like he knows the HOW cameras are present, he then twirls around and sits on the edge of the bed with his book.
The close-up clearly shows the book Hughie is reading: Wrestling 101.
Perhaps from the prison library. Or perhaps not. Regardless, Hughie folds the page so he can remember his place. He then puts the book on the bed and stands up from it.
Hughie Freeman: Basic Wrestling 101 and you can’t even do that. Why Steve? Why? Is it because you’re so fucking special than everybody else? Is it beneath The Miracle Man? Come on fella, please tell me why you fucking cunt cos your man Hughie Freeman really wants to hear it.
Freeman starts to bounce on the spot; showing signs of frustration.
Hughie Freeman: Cos even HOW’s very own Resident Pikey can even fall in line and comply with these guidelines. The constant rule-breaker, guilty party in everything associated with HOW and fire.. still can be a good old Catholic schoolboy and follow the commandments like it’s my bible.
These guidelines have been set in stone as far back as wrestling’s inception. When wrestling was nothing more than fat heffers rolling around in mud. Fuck wrestling, the whole fight-game as a whole know these laws exist. Fuck the fight-game, the whole entertainment business fitting under one huge umbrella know these very basic fundamentals.
But… not Steve Harrison.
And not cos you’re as thick as pig shit that can’t be arsed to learn these things.. but cos you’re a cunt.
Hughie Freeman; up and down on his toes.. now begins to crack his knuckles.
Hughie Freeman: Even a novice to the whole wrestling game.. your man Hughie Freeman totally gets it. Fuck me mate, it’s hardly fucking rocket science. But how come some dirty gypsy with only one punch (allegedly) understands it and not ‘the brilliant’ Steve Harrison?
Is it cos you’re unbeaten? Is that why you can’t be told? How your winning streak is based on you being a total cock so why bother changing methods. Fuck off mate. You don’t get to blur the lines of fight. If the scallywag gyppo can’t.. you fucking can’t.
Hughie starts to pace his cell.
Hughie Freeman: Your man Perfection got a bad rap for it.. and you’ve managed to snake your way into the top ten doing the exact same fucking thing. But see, at least Perfection was honest about it. Aye, I can appreciate a guy that stands and owns it. Fair play, he fucked the game as we know it.. but it’s better than being a little yellow-belly cunt like you, Steve Harrison.
Fuck, I might be a million miles away in Alcatraz but I’m still in the fucking know. I’ve heard the HOW locker-room call it ‘The Steve Harrison Thing’ like it’s something cute. Like it’s something to celebrate and enjoy. Like they are aware of it but cos you’re fighting in your own playground with nobody to play with that you’re doing no harm.
But the fact is, the damage has already been done. For you want to stick your beak into other people’s businesses that doesn’t concern you. You want to mention Max Kael? You want to mention Mike Best? You want to mention any cunt that enters your head that has no bearing to you. And for what? To get some attention you cunt? Well, congratulations. You got some. And although their playgrounds are closed.. your man’s here in Alcatraz is always open. Whether or not you were in my plans.. fuck mate, I got plenty of time on my hands to squeeze you in.
But let me spell it out for you… you’re a cunt.
Cos like the guys you keep mentioning like their your heroes and your some spotty smelly mark.. they all get it. They all know the score. They are all still students of the game despite being some of the most decorated men in this business. They all play ball, they all sing off the same hymn sheet, and they all are respectful of the craft. The craft of Professional Wrestling.
Please, let me act out a quick roleplay just so I’m hitting home how fucking important this is..
Hughie Freeman then hops to a different area of his cell.
Hughie Freeman (high pitched voice): Hi there, local customer entering my pet store with your scruffy little dog.
Freeman then hops back to where he was originally.
Hughie Freeman (normal tone): Hi, I’m after another dog, please.
Freeman then immediately hops again.
Hughie Freeman (high pitched voice): I’m not surprised your dog is shit.
Freeman hops back to the other side.
Hughie Freeman (normal tone): What the fuck did you say?
Another hop.
Hughie Freeman (high pitched voice): I’m saying, sir.. you need to buy a new dog cos yours is an ugly little bastard that needs jet washing.
Another hop.
Hughie Freeman (normal tone): Why the fuck should I buy a dog from here if all you’re gunna do is insult me and my dog?
Another hop.
Hughie Freeman (high pitched voice): Because I’m the best and home the most sexy dogs ever.
Pause.
Hughie Freeman: END ROLEPLAY!
See mate, are you starting to see how this works now? The pet shop owner is totally going about it the wrong way. He needs a sale, he has a willing buyer, but fucks it for himself and the buyer cos of his own ego.
The exact same concept applies to us performers. Mate, it’s the same thing your man Hughie Freeman has been doing his whole life on the fields of Cork. I’m not picking an easy fight. And fuck, even if your man did.. he wouldn’t fucking tell you about it. I’d let you all know it was going to be the fight of my fucking life. So when I do beat the twat.. it makes my win every bit more valuable.
And that’s where the book stops.
Cos let’s rewind to when Hughie Freeman got here. When Scottywood beat Lee Best to the punch and signed him to HATE. How the fuck do you think Scottywood sold me this wrestling gig? A natural born fighter like myself? You think he sat me down and whacked on a VHS tape of him wanking over an LSD title? You think that would get me biting at the bit to join this theatrical fight? You’re barking mad, mate.
I got sold on fights.. and fucking money. Your man Hughie Freeman fights cos he LOVES it but refuses to fight for free. Nobody LOVES it that much.
But take a look around that HOW arena the next time you’re in it, Steve. Take a big whiff through your ungrateful nostrils and smell what you got up there. What has helped build that enterprise. Cos fella, it certainly isn’t no Miracle Enterprise in which you think money falls off of trees. No mate, it was built on selling.
What we are are glorified salesmen. Granted fella, we make stories with our bodies. But with our words.. they’re potential ticket sales. And the more we sell our fucking fight.. the more those hard-working HOW fans want to buy. And, in turn.. the more HOW profits.
You don’t like my house? Aye, it fucking stinks! I’m the one living in it and it fucking stinks! But you want to shit on me? Ok great, shit on me. Shit all over me if you fucking must. But don’t shit on her..
Freeman looks around his cell, contently.
Hughie Freeman: Don’t shit on Uncle Sam’s Devil Island you cunt!
But how I feel like I’ve given you a lesson today, Scottywood wants to think he’s been the cunting headmaster. He wants to try and teach me to be better. Fucking better.. laughable. You fucking cocksucker. Try spending one hundred and six bastard days and nights in the hole. Try having to deal with cunts everyday of your life here, that just want to rob you of your dignity. Try having your HATE rep here being questioned cos you got beat by Steve Fucking Harrison.
You wonna think that you’re the most deserving man for the LSD number one contenders spot. Well mate, if it makes you feel any better.. have it. Please, just go ahead and take it. Cos if this is how you do business, then you deserve to be the worst LSD champion in the history of HOW. You keep doing ‘The Steve Harrison Thing’ and the fans will turn off in their droves. If that fucking happens.. HOW will be down on their hands and knees begging for my release.
But the HATE I have for you, Steve. Cos I do fucking HATE you.. just so you know that. I’m gunna have to channel my HATE and I’m gunna have to picture Jiles is Steve and RICK is Harrison. And that’s no problem, mate. Your man can do that. Your man can pummel them Bandits like they’re two selfish cunts.
Instead of seeing their colorfulness.. I’ll see darkness. Instead of hearing laughter.. I’ll hear HATE. And instead of the smell of joy.. I’ll smell dirty unwashed cunts.
If Scottywood wants to see the HATE then those poor little Bandits are gunna get much-much more than that. They’re gunna get the HATE where Hughie Freeman is unchained. They’re gunna get the HATE where Hughie Freeman has free reign to do what the fuck he likes. They’re gunna get the HATE I have for Steve Fucking Harrison deeply embedded in their faces.
Granted, your man Hughie Freeman has already been on record recently of saying how much I respect those Bandits. The way those Bandits have connected with the fans regardless of their win/loss record. Cos man, if you’re over with them.. you’re already a fucking winner. But Bandits.. some cunt has fucked this for us all. He’s made up his own rules where miracles do happen and actual fairies guide him through life. And my HATE for his very existence means I have to painfully demonstrate to you why HATE still runs deep inside of me. For your man’s love for RICK did surface and it can never be ignored.. HATE is my impulse. It’s been triggered to where the wrestling 101 handbook has been re-written..
Hughie Freeman then retrieves the book from his bed.
Hughie Freeman: This isn’t your typical wrestling promo, boys. According to this..
Freeman flicks through the pages quickly.
Hughie Freeman: I’m meant to mention the event date, and ideally wrap this bitch up in ten minutes..
The Pikey Fuck looks deeply confused.
Hughie Freeman: But too bad for you I’m not following the script either. I’m not selling this cunt any more than it needs to be sold. It is exactly how I say it is. It is Hughie Freeman beating the fuck out of Steve Harrison A and Steve Harrison B.
But which cunt ‘B’ you.
Freeman then fumbles around in his tights and pulls out a lighter. He flicks it and immediately the flame increases.
Hughie Freeman: Burn baby burn..!
Suddenly, the Wrestling 101 book is being set alight by the lighter being put under it. Hughie Freeman watches the flames slowly burn the book in his clutches. He watches on fully transfixed to the book.