Post by Braddock on Apr 8, 2015 12:42:30 GMT -5
The camera opens on a run down home; its faded blue paint is chipping off in some places, the roof over the porch is sagging, and the yard is overgrown and full of weeds. A man with a shaved head sits on the corner of the porch in a busted up La-Z-Boy recliner, his foot up on the remnants of the porch railing while plucking a ditty from the banjo in his hands. his beard has what appears to be powdered sugar or maybe even flour, near his bottom lip and a soft breeze tugs at his flapping, sleeveless red flannel shirt. As the camera moves slightly to the right, giving the viewers a shot of the side of the house, a large man is seen sitting on a milk crate. he tips his head back and drains the clear contents of the mason jar, sucking in a bit of air after the final swallow, possibly to ease the burning in his throat.
The man rises to his feet and tosses the empty jar aside before facing the camera. Under the beard and long hair, if you look past the extra weight and picture a mound of muscle, and ignore the sleeves of tattoos, you can see this man for who he really is. The former four time N.L.C.W. American Champion. None other than Frank Merritt himself. He still wears his trademark smirk as he lumbers forward and stops next to the porch where the bald man is still pickin a ditty.
[/b][/p]For some time now I have been away. Away from this business, from the cheers and jeers, and away from the "boys in the back." I have been in self-imposed isolation up in Washington State, on my property, indulging in Mother Mary Jane's greatest gift and amassing a small fortune. Long gone are my days in Hollywood. But today, today marks the beginning of my return. And I am not alone....
He hooks a thumb towards the man sitting next to him and a coy grin parts his lips.
This is a cousin of one of my....well, we'll call him an associate. This is a friend of mine, trained in the art of wrestling by two of his wrestling idols; Jim Duggan and Hillbilly Jim. They may not be thoroughbreds but they taught this boy how to take a beatin like nobody else. We're comin to Pure Class. We aim to displease. We aim to maim, break, and tear down any opposition in our way and leave a trail of broken bodies in our wake.
Frank begins to chuckle softly to himself while the banjo players tempo and volume increases slightly. Frank Merritt and Bubba Reece are on their way with trouble following.
