Post by vaevictisbd on Dec 9, 2022 10:15:26 GMT
Chaos Theory; the science of a change being introduced to initial conditions that cause a disturbance in the status quo. 1972 pondered the question; does the flap of a butterflies wings set off a tornado in Texas? Nearing the end of 2022, the introduction of Louisiana rednecks to the social elitism of an airport first-class VIP room cause the atmosphere to change completely proved just how chaotic the theory could be. The three Haggard Brothers rolled into the luxurious room with its fancy furniture, smooth jazz ambiance, and conversations kept to a polite hush with their luggage behind them and championship gold over their shoulders; immediately becoming the proposed butterflies that had no concern for the initial conditions.
Jack Haggard: Whoooooooweeeee! We done did it big time now, boys! We got them fat champions checks, we don't fly to Ireland, or England, or wherever the fuck Wales is, in business class no more! We do shit big now, us Haggard boys be livin' that life of luxury now.
Clancy Haggard: HELL YEAH! THIS DAT CHAMPIONS LIFE LIKE LEBRON JAMES BE LIVIN' LIKE!
Jack Haggard: Quiet your loud ass down! This is one of them fancy establishments. Wipe yo damn feet on the carpet too, don't track no farm dirt inside.
Clancy Haggard: ...my bad.
Jack Haggard: Don't worry 'bout a thing. Ay, why don't you go over to that band playing all that elevator music over there and ask them if they know any Willie Nelson or Johnny Cash.
Clancy walks off-screen, rolling his suitcase with him as Jack Haggard takes a cigar from a hostess that seems rather deterred by the presence of such crude and unapologetically underclass people. Hank Haggard Jr -- jaw wired shut -- slaps the back of his hand against the chest of Jack. His voice muffled completely with the inability to open his mouth to communicate.
Jack Haggard: You said it, my brother. It could be nice getting used to this life of fat paychecks and even fatter stogies. I ain't ever smokin' one of those cheap-ass cigarettes again, you feel me?
Hank grunts out sentences as the hostess lights Jacks cigar, blowing out a thick white cloud from his lips.
Jack Haggard: I'mma shoot straight wit' ya, man; the paychecks are nice, but that ain't what we about. We are blue-collar as they come. We ain't ever known the easy road. Shit, the only reason we flying first class now is cause I'm tired of sittin' in them business class seats with screamin' kids 'n shit. I ain't flying to the U.K. with that headache anymore. More importantly, we doin' this for Clancy.
While his words were difficult to translate, Hank very clearly gruntles out "FOR CLANCY?!" from behind the wires that kept his jaw shut.
Jack Haggard: Man needs incentive. He's all happy-go-lucky bein' a champion right now, but he just had it handed to 'im. He gotta step up to bat while you are out of commission with that contraption on your head. We tried coachin' him up for this whole rasslin' thing, but he just ain't gettin' it like you and I did. We fought all the time. Ace ain't slappin' him around teachin' him right from wrong like he did ta us. Best thing we can do for him is give him reasons to keep wantin' to hold onto the belts. We all good for this Tables, Ladders, Chairs or whatever marketin' shit they calling a weapon fight since he don't gotta be all abidin' by no rules.
Hank points to Clancy, who is arguing with the band playing music as they are seemingly playing music in spite of some form of protest.
Jack Haggard: Oh yeah, we both know he gon' be a clutch hitter flyin' off the handle like he tends ta do. But we need him to prioritize the whole winnin' the match thing. Not just beatin' up Spike Kane and that dude he calling off the benches. What's his name, man subbin' in for fat junkie Price.
Hank offers up an answer, but it's again censored by his jaw wiring. It takes a few attempts before Jack can understand what he's trying to communicate.
Jack Haggard: Yeah, that Nate Pierce fella. Either way, I ain't sweatin' whoever it is we facin', I'm sweatin' the fact we can lose these championships without even gettin' pinned or nothin'. That's why we gotta make sure Clancy is laser focused on the task at hand. So what if we gotta burn through some of these champion checks to do it? What harm does it do givin' him a taste of that first class life? Maybe we can buy him some of those expensive beers for a change. Maybe get him that chainsaw he had been puttin' on his christmas list for the past few years.
Their conversation is suddenly stopped. The music that had been playing turned into yelling and crashes before a member of the band came flying between the two Haggards, the shell of a broken guitar around his neck before Hank and Jack took notice of the chaos that had broken out.
Jack Haggard: Clancy, what the hell are you doin' boy? Have you lost your mind or somethin'?
Clancy had broken a tambourine over another member of the band's head, choking him out with the wooden frame and metal jingles against his throat.
Clancy Haggard: ASSHOLES SAID THEY DON'T PLAY NO WILLIE NELSON OR JOHNNY CASH. THEY DON'T EVEN PLAY NO HANK WILLIAMS JR.
Jack Haggard: Damn it, man! You get your shit together before we get kicked out or somethin'!
As the brothers are having a spat, a host is attempting to check on a band member, only to trip on another and send a tray of champagne flying onto the oldest Haggard. Champagne glasses as well as the bottle crashing into him and showering him in the alcohol, dampening and extinguishing the embers of his stogie. His nostrils flare, his eyes closed, suppressing anger as he takes the cigar from his mouth and drops it to the carpeted floor. The host gets to his feet, stammering his attempt at an apology before he is interrupted.
Jack Haggard: You ain't gotta say a damn thing. I'm cool. I'm cool. Accidents happen, right? You don't worry bout a thing.
Jack pats down the creases in the host's vest.
Jack Haggard: Cooler heads prevail and all that. Clancy, apologize to this man. Haggard style, if you will.
Jack grips at the host's vest tightly, throwing him into Clancy who immediately grabs them by the neck, lifting them high and -- CRASH! -- they're slammed down into a table with plates, glasses and silverware crashing into them as the table breaks in half. The patrons at the table run away yelling as Clancy lets out a violent YEEEEEEEAH! yell like he was running off percocets.
Jack Haggard: Ya see that, Hank. That's the kind of incentive I can work with.
Security rush into the lounge, attempting to restrain the youngest Haggard who has all but broken out into a rampage. He had grabbed a dining chair from around the broken table, swinging it wildly as it collides with one of the security guards and sends him crashing to the floor. Both Hank and Jack on-lookers, wincing at the impact of a less-than-traditional use of a chair more akin to their profession but far more brutal given it wasn't one that folded with a flat impact.
Jack Haggard: Alright, alright! Clancy, you gotta calm it down now, man. Suns settin', man. Take it easy and --
Jack couldn't even finish his attempt to calm down his younger sibling as one of the security guards rushed in an sprayed mace into his eyes, causing Clancy to start screaming profanities with his eyes closed, reaching out for whatever he could grab, swinging at anything that moves even if he couldn't see them. To his credit, gets a lucky punch or two in and tosses away any guards that attempt to grab him, but eventually stumbles away until he could find a wall. Using it as a guide as his eyes were red, overflowing with tears and screaming from the pain like a madman, he eventually finds the rung of a ladder that a maintenance worker was using to fix a faulty speaker. Clancy, for whatever reason provoked him to do such a thing, started climbing the ladder, kicking away security that were attempting to grab his leg.
Jack Haggard: Damn it, boy! The hell you doin' up there! Get your ass down!
Words falling on deaf ears, or rather muted out by the rage and yells of pain as Clancy climbed higher. The maintenance worker was also yelling, attempting to kick Clancy away. But Clancy caught his leg and -- HOLY SHIT! He Fisherman Suplexed the guy off the 30 ft ladder into the crowd below. Even the Haggards -- or at least one of them while the other was physically unable -- were yelling like they had just seen a brutal tackle in a football game. The entire security faculty were knocked out and groaning in pain as Clancy was attempting to get to his feet.
Both Haggard Brothers quickly run to their youngest, grabbing him and getting him up.
Jack Haggard: We gotta get the fuck outta here before they take your ass to jail, ya idiot! Come on! Hank, get his bag! We gotta get movin'!
Sure enough, the Haggards attempt their getaway from the scene. Security hurt and one-by-one attempted to take chase but clearly not able to get over whatever injuries they sustained in the process. The Haggards rush outside the airport, even pushing a man aside as he hailed for a Taxi, getting into car in his place.
Jack Haggard: The next closest airport! Hurry your ass up and there is a big tip in it for ya!
Having heard all he needed to hear, the taxi drives off with the Haggard boys in the back, tending to Clancy's eyes by pouring water bottles into this eyes as the security team can be seen in the rearview mirror getting smaller and smaller in the distance, seemingly lost as to where the southerners disappeared to.
Clancy Haggard: FUCK! FUCK! THIS SHIT FUCKIN' HURTS!
Jack Haggard: YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR GOD DAMN MIND, BOY!
Jack slaps the back of Clancy's bold head.
Jack Haggard: But ya done showed me somethin' I needed to see, man. You broke a man through a table. Ya swung a chair at someone. Ya even used a goddamn ladder to part bodies like the red sea. That's the shit we need, man. That's the shit that will keep us as champions. You proved to me that you can be a fighting Haggard with me and Hank back there. The only question I have is; can ya do that again this Sunday?
Clancy Haggard: THIS WHAT IT FEEL LIKE?! HEART BEATIN' IN YA EARS?! TASTE OF BLOOD IN YA MOUTH!? THIS HOW THEM WRESTLER'S FEEL ALL THE TIME?!
Jack Haggard: My brother, you're finally gettin' it. I'm proud of you, man. Cause we gon' need that violence of yours. And we got two people you can beat up to your hearts content. How's that for incentive?
Eyes still burning red, Jack presenting him with the tag team championship he had dropped but was retrieved by Hank, Clancy takes the championship, looking at it like it were the first time all over again.
Clancy Haggard: WE GON HAVE A LOT OF FUN, I TELL YA WHAT!