Post by vaevictisbd on Nov 5, 2022 18:17:03 GMT
The candid opens to the sound of chickens clucking, the flock pecking along the ground at pellets of food on the hay floor. Their simple life of calm and peaceful behavior is immediately disrupted by -- CRASH! -- a thunderous clang that causes the bird-minded creatures to become distressed. A wrestling ring standing in the middle of their coop, Clancy Haggard standing within it, jumping on his toes like a boxer over a poor, unrecognizable soul that is laying in the ring holding his lower back with a face twisted in agony.
Clancy Haggard: GET UP! GET UP! YA AIN'T SHIT!
Impatiently, he lays a boot into the downed persons shoulder, causing him to revel in more pain. Standing off to the side, leaning against the coop fence, the older brothers Jack Haggard and Hank Haggard Jr watch with beers in hand. Hank having to drink his through the gap made from his missing front teeth, the contraption keeping his jaw wired shut otherwise preventing the action. Jack holding both sets of the Tag Team Championships on his shoulder, watching the sparring, and slamming a palm against the fence.
Jack Haggard: Take it easy now! We paid him good for the hour, don't go beatin' him up too bad now!
Hank Haggard Jr: Aggressively muffled words that are difficult to translate.
Jack Haggard: He ain't going ta learn shit about wrestlin' if all he does is beat the poor fuck up. He gotta get this shit in his head quick if we gonna defend these tag belts.
Hank Haggard Jr: Slaps the back of his hand against the championship plates, swinging his hand to allude to Clancy and then to between the two of them. His dialect equally difficult to understand.
Jack Haggard: Oh yeah, he ain't got a problem fightin'. But boy ain't ever had a wrestlin' match before, and that ain't the same thing. Until that jaw of yours mends up, brother gotta hold the fort and pick up the slack if we wanna keep these pretty little things.
Hank Haggard Jr: Unintelligably gestures again to Clancy and the ring.
Jack Haggard: Man, I don't need to train up to deal with that bitch-ass Stefan McCain. He don't do anythin' but some fancy-ass wristlocks and talk shit. Man can't fight; all he do is bitch and complain that he can't win a fuckin' thing. You hear that good shit he was spittin'?
Hank Haggard Jr: Shakes head in Redneck.
Jack Haggard: Man clearly don't be payin' attention to who runs this shit. He thinks we just got handed these cause we ain't the best team goin'. He ignorin' the fact we beat three teams back ta back ta back and got handed these late in the game. These ain't no undeservin' handout, motherfucka, these ain't like your IPDubya contract. We damn well earned these while bitchboy can hardly earn wins. Got his damn feelin's hurt cause Bossman Jason ain't willin' to give him shit his weak ass fight game don't deserve.
Another loud CRASH!. In the background of the shot, the sparring partner of Clancy pulled himself together and applied a wristlock onto the youngest Haggard, only to get punched in the face and then clotheslined down to the canvas, once again causing the chickens to flee.
Jack Haggard: Kid got a pride that fragile as glass, man. Talking all that shit about stealin' the show and lastin' forty somethin' minutes in some rumble jamboree whatever takin' naps in corners and stayin' off screen -- clearly ain't payin' attention to the fact you fought for the World Title with fists of glass shards and shit --
Hank Haggard Jr: THE FUCK!? *can hardly be understood through his wired jaw.*
Jack Haggard: Ain't ignorance a bitch. How he thinkin' we be impressed about how long he last in that shit when he can't last 5 minutes tradin' fists. What it matter if ya steal the show when ya only know how ta lose? What Mr Amazin' gonna do when he pickin' up his teeth off the floor, huh? Boy don't know a fuckin' thing about bein' a lethal shooter. He a BB gun makin' noise like he a 12 Gauge. You ain't lethal to shit but your own health, brotha.
In the background, Clancy is standing over his sparing partner, slapping him repeatedly trying to bring him back to consciousness.
Clancy Haggard: THINK I BROKE HIM!
Jack Haggard: 'Ight, just call it a day. We'll pick another one up from the bar after we done our work for the day. Just throw a few punches at somethin' hangin' in the meat cooler or somethin'.
Clancy steps out of the tattered makeshift ring, grabbing one of the chickens by the neck before leaving the scene. Hank looking really impatient, arms crossed with his fingers tapping against his arm in the same manner a junky would scratch at their arm.
Jack Haggard: Let me talk to ya, Stefan. You be wastin' your words openin' you mouth to begin with. You ain't shit. You a bitch ass punk that don't know what he steppin' in the ring with. Us Haggards are fuckin' evil, man. We friends with the devil cause we inflict pain like no one else do. We brought it to the best in IPDubya, we leave scars on them they gotta look at in the mirror every day of they damn lives. You throwin' stones from a glass house, boy. We ain't throwin' stones back, we draggin' you out of it by the neck and tossin' your punk ass through every plane of it. You steppin' into the Haggard House of Pain man. You ain't makin' it out alive!