“We’re somewhere along Texas interstate highway 10 ‘at runs between San Antonio and Houston. A giant highway longer’n most of these here American states are wide… and it ain’t even our longest one. Alls just to say to give all you foreigners a little perspective about just how tall and wide a state Texas really is. And by foreigners I pretty much mean any of you non-Texan types. Poor bastards, the lot of ya’… “
“Now me personally, I like to call this Texas’ sweet spot. Head west a piece to my home away from home of San Antone and have some margaritas on the river and the finest widest senioritas in all the world, then head east back Houston way and live that big city life and grab a little meaty Texas pride BBQ. Then hit the coast for cold beers and fishin’ all the way down the gulf. Get some fried shrimp and oysters in South Padre, daddy. Out west is just the shit you gotta’ endure on your way someplace more interestin’… and don’t get me started on the goddamn panhandle… “
“Lubbock is about as close as you can get to hell. Believe you me, brother.”
“Anway, what was I talkin’ about? Oh yeah… We’re somewhere along my favorite stretch of highway in a good ol’ fashioned, greasy, rowdy, loud-ass bar. Belle’s or Rick’s or something’s Wateringhole… I ain’t… “ we hear an ahem from off camera. “Eddy’s. It’s Eddy’s. And my damn bar ain’t greasy.”
Camera pans up to the traditional American biker style barkeep standing worriedly motionless, glass and rag still in hand. “Boy… are, uh, are you okay?”
Gordy Lovett’s attention is startled away from his mug of Sheiner. “Got’damn.. What, what’s up man?” The bartender returns to wiping down the mug in his hand. “You was talkin’ to yourself there.” Gordy just shakes his head. “Naw man… “ He hooks a finger directly towards the camera. “I’m supposed to do like a promo or somethin’ fer this new wresslin’ job I scored but hell man, I don’t know what the **** to say, you know? Mah manager’s a real ball buster, brother. I gotta’ make this good or she’ll cut me loose like tackle, ya’ feel me?”
The bartender is startled and a little embarrassed he missed the at least three man deep camera operation just off, seemingly unmissable, to his right. Now obviously feeling invested in this poor brain-addled, creatively bankrupt pro wrestler he decides to dive in like a bearded fairy godmother. “Well damn, I mean… what do you want to say? Who ya’ fightin’, man? Tell me about ‘im… In fact, hell, hold on.” The bartender sets down his very dry, very spotty glass and rag and fishes from beneath the bar a little microphone he must use for public announcements…
“LISTEN HERE YALL! SHUT THE **** UP FOR A GOT’DAMN SECOND… alright now, this here’s Gordy Lovett. He’s a WRASSLER and a good ol’ boy from right here in the lone star state!” a few hoots and cheers “He’s gunna’ be whoppin’ some ass on the TV representin’ and he’s got a few thing’s he’d like to say to y’all… come on up here, boy.” The barkeep slaps the bartop. “No more monologuin’ into yer’ got’damn beer. Tell these people what’chu gunna’ do.”
Fired up like a high school linebacker on a Friday night Gordy scrambles atop the bar best he can in his busted looking, green snakeskin, pointed toe cowboy boots. With his dad bod on full glorious display thanks to his crop top Willie Nelson t-shirt and far, far, far too tight “goin’ out” jeans he looks out over the assembled masses.
“MAH NAME IS THE TEXAS STAMPEDE GORDY LOVETT! I’m facin a big ol’ stack of **** dressed all in black plastic that calls himself LORD COLOSSUS! I don’t know where the hell ‘Parts Unknown’ is supposed to be but I’m sure as hell it ain’t in Texas!” a raucous hollar from the bar patrons “IMMA WHOOP THAT BIG BASTARDS ASS, YALL!” As Gordy whoops and hollars and continues to fire up his audience the scene pauses that shaky kind of pause that only comes from a good old fashioned VHS tape.
As we pan out from the television monitor to the gorgeous wood paneled office of one Doris Hilton, we see the woman in question sitting at her desk. She taps the television remote against her chin, obviously deep in thought. “Well… it’s a start.”
From off camera. “Mmm, indeed. Indeed it is.”