Wreck-It Hughie

Wreck-It Hughie

Posted on November 12, 2020 at 5:45 pm by Hughie Freeman

Darkness that could only emulate that in the depths of Alcatraz. However, not completely void of light. The only source of said light beams from a singular retro arcade game machine. Pac-Man to be precise. It’s stationed in the belly of nowhere.

The guy operating the machine is none other than LSD Proud Fighting Champion himself: Hughie Freeman. Who looks fully immersed in the game as he taps away.

Hughie (V. O): Play the game, Hughie. That’s what they keep telling me..

Immediate zoom on the iconic yellow Pac-Man as it wizzes around the screen. Then a quick return to the visual of an intense Freeman facial.

Hughie (V. O): Whatever the game.. Jack Straws, Ludo or Operation. Or what about Buck-a-roo? Aye, Buck-a-roo.. the game gets flung before the donkey kicks I promise you that much. Your man Hughie Freeman does not work for the donkey; the donkey works for me.

Pac-Man skirts out of trouble as the camera points back at the rapid Hughie Freeman.

Hughie (V. O): But the game in which you play, Conor Fuse.. is much-much worse. Playing games of tongue in the arse which gains you opportunities, makes you fit in socially, and simply gives you an easier life. A game you make look so dead easy my friend.

Well just in case you’ve been living under a rock, or in your man Hughie Freeman’s case.. left to rot in Alcatraz for one hundred and thirty three days; I don’t do things by halves. In no way do I take the easy road and have I fuck ever played the game of your choice. Fuck mate, had your man played those pathetic little games.. I’d have been a multi-millionaire by now. I’d have been in the same breath as all of the top fighters here in HOW, and I’d have been just like every Bob, Dick and Harry here.

A quick transition to a heavy bash on the buttons and back to the close-up facial of Hughie Freeman. He remains transfixed.

Hughie (V. O): But see where I’ve had to jump through hoops and fall on my arse at Uncle Sam’s..You’ve played the game, Conor. Squeaky clean Conor Fuse button bashing his way up the HOW ranks without restraint; duking it out with Jatt Starr at Rumble At The Rock. Jatt Starr arguably the greatest of all time, and you fresh out of wrestling school with a gameboy lodged up your arse feeling every bit entitled. Almost like you’ve been binging on the game of selfishness for two weeks straight gaining nothing more than facial spots and not an ounce of respect.

You’re clowning with Jatt Starr didn’t go unnoticed. You goofing around like this is Echo The Dolphin on your cute little console. This ain’t no fake-pretend game, lad.. this is the fight game. And I’ll hurt you. There’s no way to gloss it up, or even press options on the menu to select an easier mode.. I’ll straight up kill you. No respawning.. Just dead on your back, with not even a cheat book to bail you out of trouble. I’m coming for you hard and fast; pressure you’re not ready for. I’m both Ken and Ryu combined and even more. You can’t unlock someone like me; I’m a whole different character altogether my friend. And there won’t be another one like me ever again. So enjoy the game whilst you’re in it cos when it’s game over you can then say you tried it on with Hughie Freeman. The ultra gamer failed.. but you were in with a once in a lifetime fighter.

You got levels here in HOW. The businessmen make the fights.. not the fighters. Your man Hughie Freeman has no problem knocking on Steve Harrison’s dressing room right fucking now and laying him spark out. Though, that has to happen only at ICONIC. That’s the game that’s in the disc tray and whether your man likes it or not.. Harrison’s pain is put on pause. First I must smash you before I carve Harrison’s head in. That’s the story mode of where we’re at and it frustrates me like a mother fucker. Cos when you’re born and bred to fight and not to be stuck in the house all day playing with your toys.. I just wonna lick workman’s sweat off my top lip. Your man Hughie Freeman just wants to cut out all of the bullshit and the game playing; making physical war not just warcraft.

A close-up of Freeman’s top lip as it is met with his swooping tongue.

Hughie (V. O): You think it’s real fucking cute to baracade yourself in your bedroom all day. Getting mommy to cook you some pizza.. but you just don’t have a clue, son. You want to fantasise about wrestling me in just your smalls like I’m your Teddy bear.. brilliant. You’re really putting the fear of GOD in me living in your little princess house. Fuck mate, those blisters on your thumbs aren’t the hard work of someone who wants to bounce back from defeat. But, instead.. gains only victory in himself by trolling in a safe zone in front of a keyboard.

You’re living in a walking breathing simulation. Also known as.. Delusion. Don’t matter if you put Evil Cortex or Pappa The Rapper in there with me instead of you.. you’re still getting it. Maybe you just don’t know it yet as all of your worries are on the very first level of Tomb Raider 2. Forget that damn tiger.. I’m the lion here my friend. And I’ll eat you alive.. in the Best Arena or in your fucking bedroom. Your man Hughie Freeman doesn’t give a fuck. I’ll beat on your face so badly they’ll end up calling you Pizza Face.

But as much of a schoolboy you are living your best Eric Cartman life.. you still fail to do your homework. If you wonna start spitting shit about me then make sure what you say is factual. Your man Hughie Freeman wasn’t locked away for two weeks you dodge-pot.. try four months. You know mate, the same amount of time you’ve put into your whole wrestling career. But, the only difference is.. my career isn’t defined by Alcatraz, Scottywood, or as much as I love the bastard thing.. The LSD championship. For your man Hughie Freeman will defend his championship with honour.. but know I’m in this fight game for the long haul. And when I fight.. know every match is a title match in your man’s eyes. Cos the fight comes first and the horsing around comes.. never.

The pace of Pac-Man and the sounds increase.

Hughie (V. O): But that’s just typical HOW fakers. You are not fighters. I know all about you but you just want to bodge job the lot of it. Acting like you know all about me.. get the fuck out of here. But you wonna throw Mike Best’s name in the mix like he’s more worthy. Oh aye.. you know all about your favorite wrestlers as you have them on your walls.. but not Hughie Freeman. Cos I’m not advertised in that way. I’m not classed as the elite. So you cowboy your research on me cos you don’t believe that the young sexy pikey will reach those dizzy heights. But just like Steve Harrison keeps doing; failing to acknowledge the bully beat down that’s around the corner for him.. You’ll stay on those levels. You won’t pass go and collect two hundred dollars.. and I’ll be there on Old Kent Road with my two finger salute. Soon, your man Hughie Freeman will be with those names cos I simply fought my way there without no bastard game playing. Please Mike: if I say your name enough you might just recognise me.. get in the bin with your Sega megadrive why don’t you. Cos I’m sick of it. You’re my target.. I’m not throwing wild bombs hoping it’ll land with no fucking method. And I’m your target, Fuse. But know.. you can’t catch me with or without the joystick; I’m more slippery than electricity.

Thing is, your man has done more in the last few months than any HOW roster member could ever imagine. Even you in your fake-pretend world of Spiral The Dragons. The shit I’ve been through and overcome will go down in HOW folklore. And it pisses me off that everytime I’m matched up with one of you freeloaders.. you act like you’re in the know and have followed my every move. If you don’t know, mate.. and all you have done is watched seconds of my knockout highlight reel then don’t mention a GOD damn thing. You’re exposing yourself; leaving yourself wide open and that’s so fucking dangerous with a bad customer like me. You’re advertising like you haven’t the foggiest.. but Hughie-boy will rain down with punches, no problem at all.

You’re living in the box room in your mam’s house and you wonna pick a fight with the LSD Proud Fighting Champion. You wonna familiarize this like it’s one of your daft computer games. But what in the actual fuck? No catchphrase, no sound little setup for a sickening punchline to be delivered here.. just.. what the hell, fella? I’m a born killer and you kill mushrooms by jumping on them as a fat strawberry coloured plumber. In what simulation from reality to gaming-world can you fucking beat me? I’m as real and as bad as it humanly gets and I’ll fuck your life up.

Shadow and the rest of his cronies chase down Pac-Man at an impressive rate.

Hughie (V. O): X, X, box, circle, triangle, X, X.. box.. twirl the control clockwise and then up your stinking arse; you’ll look to finish me.. but when you get started I’d have already hit you plush in the face. There’s no energy bar when your man Hughie Freeman dictates the pressure and pace. You’re in a fight, bonny lad.. the bad bad place that your mam tries to protect you from but she can’t cos you’re too locked in my unwashed friend.

Hughie’s facial then turns into something sinister as he continues to manipulate an impressive high score.

Hughie (V.O): My only hangup is that I’ve got to make this thing look competitive. In this warped world where The Famous Gypsy Warrior takes on some virgin Mary gamer I’m at a loss on how to make this shit believable. Cos as advertised this is a non-title match.. but you’re a contender. A contender to my reputation as a true fighting man. A thing your man Hughie Freeman takes deadly serious.

You want a shot at the title? No problem. I want it too. I want it every time I’m put up against one of you game players. Cos if I say I’m a proper fighting man then I have to be ready to take on everyone and anyone. It really doesn’t matter to me cos I can’t be this super champion without the record. I need bums like you to knock back into ridiculous pixel land. I’m a champion of mega proportions you son of a cunt and if you’re not taking this seriously then your set of teeth will look like a dropped piano from the fourth floor. I’m not fucking about; no games, no bullshit..just raw bastard power coming to your damn program. Load the bitch up cos I’m sick of waiting.. I want it now. I’m impatient and my level is on a completely different platform than yours will ever be. And there’s no Mike Best name drop needed for where I’m headed. You just watch you docile cunt; treating me like the run of the mil. I’m Hughie Fucking Freeman and I don’t play games..

The dreaded sound of Pac-Man being smothered to death eclipses our sensors. The high score to beat all mother of high scores.. over.

Hughie: Wagga-Wagga.. you’re fucked.

Freeman does nothing more than straight jabs the screen in complete frustration. Subsequently, the screen malfunctions and Pac-Man is having a fit by storming the whole map by himself through no explained reason at all. The wagga-wagga’s play on loop as some sort of mental torture.