Post by Bubba on Aug 20, 2015 3:48:39 GMT -5
The curtain leading backstage is tossed aside and a furious Bubba Reece storms past one thought, one single purpose filling his previously unconscious mind.
“JUDGE!!! Where the FUCK are you! You cheap shottin bastard!”
Bubba’s thick southern accent is slightly strained as he screams for his last opponent. Turning left past the curtain Bubba sees only executives and backstage crewmembers milling about. Ignoring the panicked crewmember talking into a radio Bubba turns right and begins moving down the hall looking in doorways and every darkened alcove where someone might be lying in wait, sweat begins to sting his eyes as Bubba continues his search. Without hesitation he pulls off his black wife beater tank top and after wiping his face and neck Bubba discards his garment carelessly.
“I SAW YOU COME BACK HERE JUDGE!!! I’m gonna rest my combat booted foot right up your ass!”
Two burly men dressed in blue jeans and tight fitting black T shirts with the word SECURITY in white printed across the chest step up to Bubba with arms outstretched hands held with palms facing out.
“Mr. Reece you need to stop…”
Shaking his head dismissively Bubba attempts to look past the two men, when that doesn’t work he feints left then moves to the right suddenly.
“Mr. Reece please calm down…”
As the last statement rolls off their tongues in unison Bubba spots the person he has been searching for entering the medical bay. Pushing past the two burly men Bubba takes a half step and calls out.
“JUDGE! Where you going Judge! We got unfinished business Judge!
"
Just as he begins to quicken his step Bubba stumbles forward having tripped over one of the security team’s feet. As he begins to right himself a rather large body lands on his back followed by another.
“What the fuck man! Get the fuck off me!”
Bubba tries to extricate himself from the two men as they struggle to hold on, two more large security guards kneel down and grab Bubba keeping him from getting back to his feet.
“This is for your own good Mr. Reece…We really don’t want to grab you like this.”
“You can grab my nut sack asshole! Didn’t you see what he did to my tag partner!?!”
“Mr. Reece he didn’t act alone. HIS tag partner helped him! PLEASE stop struggling”
“AAAAAAAAGH GET OFF ME! Fuck Jury he’s nothing more than a lackey! Besides I can only take one at a time!”
As the door closes behind Judge a crowd begins to gather to witness the spectacle that has become Bubba Reece. People enter and exit his field of view some he barely recognizes through the red haze of rage that blurs Bubba’s vision. Eira rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she passes by. Sadistic stops to watch, an almost gleeful look on his face. After what seems like an eternity Bubba’s heart rate and breathing begin to slow and the red haze gives way to more rational thinking. Feeling the fight leave his body the security guards ease up and begin to untangle themselves from the one known as the Ragin Redneck.
“Are we good now Mr. Reece? Can we let you up without further incident?”
“Yeah you can let me up, I’m good now. Can you tell me where they are taking Frank?”
After conferring with the radio one of the security guards tells Bubba the information he asked for. Once free from the tangle of bodies Bubba begins running again, this time with a different purpose, the rage filled expression on his face replaced with one of panic and worry. After finally finding his way out of the arena Bubba finds his truck right where he left it. With one click of his seat belt and a quick twist of the key his truck roars to life. Slamming the gear shift into reverse he barely keeps his vehicle under control as he spins the tires pulling out of the parking space. Slamming the gear shift into drive this time Bubba stomps the gas pedal to the floor as he takes off for the road, once new tires scream in protest to this new prolonged abuse. Hitting the road at break neck speed Bubba slows down enough not to raise any more alarms from either tires or police. Mind racing to the worst possible conclusion Bubba holds back vomit as he remembers the sickening thud Frank’s head made as it met the concrete floor thanks to Judge and Jury. Bright lights and street noise pass by unnoticed as Bubba makes his way to the hospital his tag partner was rushed to.
“Damn what an impact…I know this is a rough sport and all but damn!”
Turning into the emergency parking area Bubba quickly finds a parking spot and after exiting his truck he sprints shirtless to the front counter of the E.R. The nurse behind the counter does not bat an eye as she looks over Bubba.
“Injured or sick?”
The puzzled look on Bubba’s face elicits an impatient sigh and a return to her computer screen.
“Where are you injured sir…or are you sick or on drugs?”
“Naw! I’m here to find my friend. Frank, Frank Merritt…”
“I’m sorry sir but if you are not being seen here you must have a shirt on.”
As she informs him the nurse points Bubba’s attention to a sign hanging just above her head on the wall behind her. After reading “All visitors MUST have adequate clothing on at all times. Sighing to himself Bubba races back out to his truck and grabs a white wife beater tank top from the rear seat and rushes to put it on as he reenters the hospital Emergency area.
“Alright I’m wearing a shirt now where is my friend?”
Sighing again the nurse begins tapping on her computer. After a few moments the look on her face softens slightly as she looks up.
“Are you Bubba Reece? I’m sorry to hear about your tag partner…”
“Why, what’s happened to him?”
“Well it’s too soon to tell but initial indications show a severe neck injury with some form of minor brain injury.”
Shaking his head and looking at the nurse Bubba takes a step back then steps forward again.
“Well no shit Sherlock! I was there! I heard my friends head hit the concrete floor while I was being beat on by someone else! A neck injury and brain injury are a guarantee! Is he going to be able to walk again? Will he be eating through a tube?”
“How was I supposed to know that? Look Mr. Merritt is in getting an MRI right now. It is going to be some time before we know exactly how severe his injuries are. Have a seat Mr. Reece…Bubba, can I call you Bubba? We will let you know as soon as Mr. Merritt is out of imaging, I’m sure the doctor will let you know how good or bad things really are.”
Tapping his fingers on the counter Bubba turns and heads to the rows of chairs lining the windowed walls and floor of the emergency room waiting area. After finding a seat Bubba starts pawing through the magazines offered on one of the tables nearby. Not finding anything worth reading Bubba sits back with a heavy sigh. Looking out he surveys his surroundings eyes lighting on a young boy sitting with his mother. The look on the young boys face betrays his recognition of Bubba as does the “Fear the Ragin Redneck” T-Shirt he is wearing.
“Nice shirt kid, if your still around when I’m done here I’ll sign it for ya.”
Looking up the boy’s mother smiles slightly and hugs the boy to her a little tighter. Reexamining the magazines again Bubba finally lands on a “Field and Stream” magazine. Flipping through the booklet he stops on a rather intriguing article on hunting wild turkey. After several hours a short Asian American man in a white doctor’s coat steps out from behind the counter and heads to Bubba with a purpose.
“Mr. Reece? I have information on your friend. It appears he may have dodged a bullet, Mr. Merritt suffered three bulging vertebrae and a mild concussion. After surgery he should make a full recovery.”
“Thank you so much doc that is great news! How long will he be out of commission?”
“Well Mr. Reece Mr. Merritt will be recovering from surgery up to and possibly beyond 6 months to a year. It will be a while before he sees the inside of a ring if ever again.”
Hearing this news hits Bubba harder than the knock out shot delivered by Judge, reeling from the news Bubba drops his head into his hands and sits trying to make sense of what his career will be like wrestling as a solo act. Pulling himself together he stands and looks down on the diminutive doctor.
“When can I see him doc?”
“Oh you can see him now Mr. Reece, just follow me.”
Holding up a finger Bubba first steps over to the young boy sitting with his mother. After waiting a moment for his mother to fish out a pen from her purse Bubba kneels down and signs the boy’s shirt. Rising he ruffles the boy’s hair, returns the pen, then follows the doctor through a doorway. Looking down the boy smiles as he reads aloud…
“YEAH BUDDY! Keep kickin butt! Your pal Bubba Reece the Ragin Redneck”
“JUDGE!!! Where the FUCK are you! You cheap shottin bastard!”
Bubba’s thick southern accent is slightly strained as he screams for his last opponent. Turning left past the curtain Bubba sees only executives and backstage crewmembers milling about. Ignoring the panicked crewmember talking into a radio Bubba turns right and begins moving down the hall looking in doorways and every darkened alcove where someone might be lying in wait, sweat begins to sting his eyes as Bubba continues his search. Without hesitation he pulls off his black wife beater tank top and after wiping his face and neck Bubba discards his garment carelessly.
“I SAW YOU COME BACK HERE JUDGE!!! I’m gonna rest my combat booted foot right up your ass!”
Two burly men dressed in blue jeans and tight fitting black T shirts with the word SECURITY in white printed across the chest step up to Bubba with arms outstretched hands held with palms facing out.
“Mr. Reece you need to stop…”
Shaking his head dismissively Bubba attempts to look past the two men, when that doesn’t work he feints left then moves to the right suddenly.
“Mr. Reece please calm down…”
As the last statement rolls off their tongues in unison Bubba spots the person he has been searching for entering the medical bay. Pushing past the two burly men Bubba takes a half step and calls out.
“JUDGE! Where you going Judge! We got unfinished business Judge!
"
Just as he begins to quicken his step Bubba stumbles forward having tripped over one of the security team’s feet. As he begins to right himself a rather large body lands on his back followed by another.
“What the fuck man! Get the fuck off me!”
Bubba tries to extricate himself from the two men as they struggle to hold on, two more large security guards kneel down and grab Bubba keeping him from getting back to his feet.
“This is for your own good Mr. Reece…We really don’t want to grab you like this.”
“You can grab my nut sack asshole! Didn’t you see what he did to my tag partner!?!”
“Mr. Reece he didn’t act alone. HIS tag partner helped him! PLEASE stop struggling”
“AAAAAAAAGH GET OFF ME! Fuck Jury he’s nothing more than a lackey! Besides I can only take one at a time!”
As the door closes behind Judge a crowd begins to gather to witness the spectacle that has become Bubba Reece. People enter and exit his field of view some he barely recognizes through the red haze of rage that blurs Bubba’s vision. Eira rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she passes by. Sadistic stops to watch, an almost gleeful look on his face. After what seems like an eternity Bubba’s heart rate and breathing begin to slow and the red haze gives way to more rational thinking. Feeling the fight leave his body the security guards ease up and begin to untangle themselves from the one known as the Ragin Redneck.
“Are we good now Mr. Reece? Can we let you up without further incident?”
“Yeah you can let me up, I’m good now. Can you tell me where they are taking Frank?”
After conferring with the radio one of the security guards tells Bubba the information he asked for. Once free from the tangle of bodies Bubba begins running again, this time with a different purpose, the rage filled expression on his face replaced with one of panic and worry. After finally finding his way out of the arena Bubba finds his truck right where he left it. With one click of his seat belt and a quick twist of the key his truck roars to life. Slamming the gear shift into reverse he barely keeps his vehicle under control as he spins the tires pulling out of the parking space. Slamming the gear shift into drive this time Bubba stomps the gas pedal to the floor as he takes off for the road, once new tires scream in protest to this new prolonged abuse. Hitting the road at break neck speed Bubba slows down enough not to raise any more alarms from either tires or police. Mind racing to the worst possible conclusion Bubba holds back vomit as he remembers the sickening thud Frank’s head made as it met the concrete floor thanks to Judge and Jury. Bright lights and street noise pass by unnoticed as Bubba makes his way to the hospital his tag partner was rushed to.
“Damn what an impact…I know this is a rough sport and all but damn!”
Turning into the emergency parking area Bubba quickly finds a parking spot and after exiting his truck he sprints shirtless to the front counter of the E.R. The nurse behind the counter does not bat an eye as she looks over Bubba.
“Injured or sick?”
The puzzled look on Bubba’s face elicits an impatient sigh and a return to her computer screen.
“Where are you injured sir…or are you sick or on drugs?”
“Naw! I’m here to find my friend. Frank, Frank Merritt…”
“I’m sorry sir but if you are not being seen here you must have a shirt on.”
As she informs him the nurse points Bubba’s attention to a sign hanging just above her head on the wall behind her. After reading “All visitors MUST have adequate clothing on at all times. Sighing to himself Bubba races back out to his truck and grabs a white wife beater tank top from the rear seat and rushes to put it on as he reenters the hospital Emergency area.
“Alright I’m wearing a shirt now where is my friend?”
Sighing again the nurse begins tapping on her computer. After a few moments the look on her face softens slightly as she looks up.
“Are you Bubba Reece? I’m sorry to hear about your tag partner…”
“Why, what’s happened to him?”
“Well it’s too soon to tell but initial indications show a severe neck injury with some form of minor brain injury.”
Shaking his head and looking at the nurse Bubba takes a step back then steps forward again.
“Well no shit Sherlock! I was there! I heard my friends head hit the concrete floor while I was being beat on by someone else! A neck injury and brain injury are a guarantee! Is he going to be able to walk again? Will he be eating through a tube?”
“How was I supposed to know that? Look Mr. Merritt is in getting an MRI right now. It is going to be some time before we know exactly how severe his injuries are. Have a seat Mr. Reece…Bubba, can I call you Bubba? We will let you know as soon as Mr. Merritt is out of imaging, I’m sure the doctor will let you know how good or bad things really are.”
Tapping his fingers on the counter Bubba turns and heads to the rows of chairs lining the windowed walls and floor of the emergency room waiting area. After finding a seat Bubba starts pawing through the magazines offered on one of the tables nearby. Not finding anything worth reading Bubba sits back with a heavy sigh. Looking out he surveys his surroundings eyes lighting on a young boy sitting with his mother. The look on the young boys face betrays his recognition of Bubba as does the “Fear the Ragin Redneck” T-Shirt he is wearing.
“Nice shirt kid, if your still around when I’m done here I’ll sign it for ya.”
Looking up the boy’s mother smiles slightly and hugs the boy to her a little tighter. Reexamining the magazines again Bubba finally lands on a “Field and Stream” magazine. Flipping through the booklet he stops on a rather intriguing article on hunting wild turkey. After several hours a short Asian American man in a white doctor’s coat steps out from behind the counter and heads to Bubba with a purpose.
“Mr. Reece? I have information on your friend. It appears he may have dodged a bullet, Mr. Merritt suffered three bulging vertebrae and a mild concussion. After surgery he should make a full recovery.”
“Thank you so much doc that is great news! How long will he be out of commission?”
“Well Mr. Reece Mr. Merritt will be recovering from surgery up to and possibly beyond 6 months to a year. It will be a while before he sees the inside of a ring if ever again.”
Hearing this news hits Bubba harder than the knock out shot delivered by Judge, reeling from the news Bubba drops his head into his hands and sits trying to make sense of what his career will be like wrestling as a solo act. Pulling himself together he stands and looks down on the diminutive doctor.
“When can I see him doc?”
“Oh you can see him now Mr. Reece, just follow me.”
Holding up a finger Bubba first steps over to the young boy sitting with his mother. After waiting a moment for his mother to fish out a pen from her purse Bubba kneels down and signs the boy’s shirt. Rising he ruffles the boy’s hair, returns the pen, then follows the doctor through a doorway. Looking down the boy smiles as he reads aloud…
“YEAH BUDDY! Keep kickin butt! Your pal Bubba Reece the Ragin Redneck”
