Post by Oh Ens Bee on Feb 20, 2019 18:56:53 GMT -6
OUT OF CHARACTER: Roadhouse Rasslin is a made up federation I created to give Owensby some backstory. In-character it is a real company. Hope you enjoy!
-------------------------
( ! ) - Information pertaining to the match you're about to watch - ( ! )
MAIN EVENT
Three Tiers of Tears Match
Tag Team Championship
Owensby Smith & Trace Jensen vs. Crash & Bang / The Elite Posse / The End Zone (c)
Tier One: Table (Crash & Bang)
-- Only one person needs to be put through a table for the team to be eliminated.
Tier Two: Falls Count Anywhere (The Elite Posse)
-- Only one person needs to be pinned for the team to be eliminated.
Tier Three: Ladder (The End Zone)
-- First team to retrieve the titles suspended above the ring will leave as the Tag Team Champions.
Other Notes: If at any time the challenging team (Owensby/Jensen) should be eliminated, the match will be declared over and The EZ shall retain. Likewise, should the match exceed 44 minutes and 59 seconds, the match will be declared over and The EZ shall retain. If the challenging team is eliminated, the team that eliminates them will be named the #1 Contenders and receive a title shot on Episode 27 if Hangover's Eve. In the interest of fairness, the defending Champions will be quarantined backstage in a locked room until the challengers have been eliminated or have successfully completed the second tier.
Trace Jensen, the coward that he is, has taken refuge in the audience. That leaves Owensby alone to fight off both Crash & Bang. Crash, a.k.a. Dwight Gladstone, is a near 300lb. behemoth of a man and quite possibly the biggest S.O.B. in New England Roadhouse Rasslin. Bang, a.k.a. Jessup Lacroix, isn't much smaller, and as Owensby's focus shifts back and forth from one man to the other, they form a semi-circle around and slowly begin to encroach on his personal space. While trying to keep distance between them and himself until he could come up with a plan of attack, a single thought entered Owensby's head: “why the HELL did I have to stick up for that weasel?!”
Trace Jensen is not a popular man. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Trace Jensen is in fact the most-hated man on the Roadhouse roster. His ego is only out-sized by his big, fat, stupid mouth. So stupid is his mouth that he's landed not just himself in hot water, again, but this time he's dragged Owensby in as well. Winning a 12-Man Battle Royal during his debut, and a few more matches thereafter, inflated his ego so much that Trace started referring to himself as an untouchable. Not the 'servant' type of untouchable, but the type that's quote-unquote larger than life. Here's what you need to know about Owensby getting paired with Trace Jensen: the latter was running his mouth to his co-workers, like usual. An "I can beat any one of you, so who wants next?" was issued. Well, that attracted the tag teams. All three of them to be exact. Not because they happened to be nearby, but because Trace was in the tag team locker room when he issued this open challenge. We're still unsure if this was an accident or if it was intentional. After all, Trace loved to stir the pot and not let sleeping dogs lie.
"What's that, little man? Did you say something?" Dwight Gladstone stood up and took a giant step toward Trace. This obviously had an effect on the smaller man.
"Yeah, m-maybe I did," Trace mumbled, but quickly covered his fear with more bravado. "I can take any one of you. I'm undefeated. Bet none of you can say the same. So, who wants some?"
"You have no clue where you are right now, do you, punk?"
"Duh. Roadhouse Rasslin. Again, duh. Do YOU know where you are?"
Trace looked around the room at the 5 other men with a "can you believe this guy?" look on his face.
"I think you better leave, dude," said Jessup Lacroix, Gladstone's tag team partner.
"Oooh, am I scaring you? Are the wittle-bitty not-undefeated amateurs scared?" Trace mocked Jessup in a baby voice.
So you can see where this was headed, right? This went on for another minute or two.
Outside the tag team locker room, dishing food onto their plates at the buffet table, Owensby Smith and his better half, Sara Michaels, are startled when they hear a big bang and a door burst open. There on the floor, in a pile of pitiable mess, was Trace Jensen.
"Don't you DARE talk 'bout my momma like that!" Dwight Gladstone yelled as he stood over Jensen's crumpled body, staring down at him with seething rage in his eyes.
"All I said is that you could learn a thing or two about just lyin' down," Trace tried reasoning. "I only meant that, well, you should be familiar with getting pinned, like she is."
"Whoa, guys! What's goin' on?" Owensby set his plate down on the table and moved to interject.
"This puke stain came into our locker room and started runnin' his mouth. I think he's high," said Jessup, who was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. Whatever was left of the door frame. The door was originally suppose to open IN to the locker room.
"Trace, what the HELL is wrong with you?!" Sara looked down at the guy on the floor as he tried to wiggle away from Dwight, but to no avail. Every inch Trace scurried, Gladstone was above him. That must be how a wounded mouse feels trying to escape, say, a Bengal tiger, she thought. But would a tiger even bother?
"Let's all just calm down, okay? I'm sure we can work this out like adults."
"Stay outta this, Smith!" Gladstone bellowed. "This doesn't concern you."
"Look, all I'm tryna say is--"
"Everybody stop what you're doing!" Security had arrived, and they had stun guns at the ready.
The owner of N.E.R.R. accompanied his security officers. An eccentric millionaire with too much money to spend and a passion for violence, William Tate funded the whole operation at a loss. He needed butts in seats.
"Is there a problem here?" asked Tate, secretly jumping for joy on the inside.
"I want this man's head! Ever since he came here he's run his mouth and, I think I can speak for the rest of us," Gladstone said, gesturing to the men and women in the crowd that had formed. "When I say we're sick and tired of it!"
"Yeah!"
"Amen!"
Pretty much everyone was nodding and vocally agreeing. Everyone, it seemed, but Owensby, who didn't really know Trace from a hole in the wall. Even Sara was in agreement. Though she never told her boyfriend because she didn't want to upset or otherwise distract him, Trace had grabbed her ass the first night Owensby and her showed up at Roadhouse Rasslin, and then proclaimed, "this, too, shall be mine!"
"All right, okay!" Tate said. "I know exactly how we're going to settle this."
And, yeah. That's pretty much how Owensby got dragged into the longest 44 minutes and 16 seconds of his life.
Crash had left the ring to chase after Trace. He didn't care about the match, he wanted to put the hurt on Jensen. That left Bang and Smith in the ring. Now, Bang's a pretty big guy. Real sturdy, built like a brick shit-house. He had tried to keep his partner focused on the match--hello, a chance to get a title shot? Remember?--but even Bang couldn't hold Crash back. This was Owensby's chance.
... or not. Brick shit-house, after all.
For the next ten minutes or so, Owensby was beaten down like a fly to the swatter. A moth to a flame. Whatever analogy you prefer. Bang wasn't holding anything back, while Owensby was just trying to hold himself together. And then came the table, and Bang holding him up in a Powerbomb position.
"Well, at least it's about to be over," Owensby muttered to himself.
But he thought wrong.
"Today I want to work on your reversals some more," said Theodore Logan. "Pretty much any offensive maneuver can be reversed, thus enabling you to use your opponent's strength and momentum against him."
"Isn't the best defense a strong offense? Or was it, the best offense is a strong defense? I can never remember," said Owensby with a sigh.
"I think it's the first one, babe."
"Me too. I gotta stop second-guessing myself."
Theodore, Owensby and Sara are in the ring of the New England Roadhouse Rasslin Dungeon (aka NERRD). It had all the amenities of a global gym. An aspiring wrestler's place to be. Open day and night, and for $60 anyone could rent it out for 4 hours, Monday-Wednesday. Thursdays and Fridays were reserved for Roadhouse Rasslers. As of 3 days ago that included Owensby. Because Rasslers didn't have to pay the $60 fee, Owensby was excited he wouldn't have to eat bologna and small cans of spaghetti-os all that month. He could upgrade to ham and maybe get a few big cans of raviolis. Or replace generic store brand Mac & Cheese with that fancy stuff Valveeta makes. Maybe. He still couldn't afford to get carried away. At least he wouldn't be stuck eating Ramen three times a day. That fact alone was worth getting excited about.
"Why bother with reversals when he should be focusing on his offense?" Sara asked Theo, her hands on her hips.
"Let's be realistic, kid."
Theo knew how much she hated being called 'kid,' but it slipped out. It slipped out a lot. She hated it because he was only a couple years older than her. He was also her step-brother.
"Owen's going to be out-sized, out-strengthed, and possibly out-numbered. Reversals are going to be his second best friend. Myself being his first, of course."
"Theo's right, sweetheart."
"About which part? Oh, whatever," Sara rolled her eyes. "So where do we begin?"
"Well, I should warn you guys that what I'm about to say might not make a whole lot of sense, at first."
"Go on."
"But take it from me, a guy that did pretty well in this department. The secret is..."
Theo stopped for dramatic pause.
"Is...?"
"What you need to do is..."
Another dramatic pause.
"Just tell us already!"
"When you're in a position or situation you really don't want to be in, you just need to envision yourself someplace better."
"Huh?" They said in unison.
"I'm not saying you should pretend to be at the beach or like you're winning the lottery, but where you want to be in the ring. How you want to be in the ring. Trust me, it truly helps."
Time Elapsed: 16:04
Bang was moments away from Powerbombing Owensby through the table he'd set up in the middle of the ring. Man, I'd really like to flip this situation around, he thought.
And that, to the best of his recollection, is how Owensby used a Hurricanrana to put Bang through the table and close out the first tier.
Ring Announcer: "Ladies and gentlemen, Crash and Bang have been eliminated!"
-------------------------
"If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten." - George Carlin
The following video contains highlights from Roadhouse Rasslin's HANGOVER'S EVE
(originally filmed on 11-17-2018)
( ! ) - Information pertaining to the match you're about to watch - ( ! )
MAIN EVENT
Three Tiers of Tears Match
Tag Team Championship
Owensby Smith & Trace Jensen vs. Crash & Bang / The Elite Posse / The End Zone (c)
Tier One: Table (Crash & Bang)
-- Only one person needs to be put through a table for the team to be eliminated.
Tier Two: Falls Count Anywhere (The Elite Posse)
-- Only one person needs to be pinned for the team to be eliminated.
Tier Three: Ladder (The End Zone)
-- First team to retrieve the titles suspended above the ring will leave as the Tag Team Champions.
Other Notes: If at any time the challenging team (Owensby/Jensen) should be eliminated, the match will be declared over and The EZ shall retain. Likewise, should the match exceed 44 minutes and 59 seconds, the match will be declared over and The EZ shall retain. If the challenging team is eliminated, the team that eliminates them will be named the #1 Contenders and receive a title shot on Episode 27 if Hangover's Eve. In the interest of fairness, the defending Champions will be quarantined backstage in a locked room until the challengers have been eliminated or have successfully completed the second tier.
>>> HANGOVER'S EVE <<<
Trace Jensen, the coward that he is, has taken refuge in the audience. That leaves Owensby alone to fight off both Crash & Bang. Crash, a.k.a. Dwight Gladstone, is a near 300lb. behemoth of a man and quite possibly the biggest S.O.B. in New England Roadhouse Rasslin. Bang, a.k.a. Jessup Lacroix, isn't much smaller, and as Owensby's focus shifts back and forth from one man to the other, they form a semi-circle around and slowly begin to encroach on his personal space. While trying to keep distance between them and himself until he could come up with a plan of attack, a single thought entered Owensby's head: “why the HELL did I have to stick up for that weasel?!”
>>> FLASHBACK <<<
> November 10, 2018 <
Trace Jensen is not a popular man. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Trace Jensen is in fact the most-hated man on the Roadhouse roster. His ego is only out-sized by his big, fat, stupid mouth. So stupid is his mouth that he's landed not just himself in hot water, again, but this time he's dragged Owensby in as well. Winning a 12-Man Battle Royal during his debut, and a few more matches thereafter, inflated his ego so much that Trace started referring to himself as an untouchable. Not the 'servant' type of untouchable, but the type that's quote-unquote larger than life. Here's what you need to know about Owensby getting paired with Trace Jensen: the latter was running his mouth to his co-workers, like usual. An "I can beat any one of you, so who wants next?" was issued. Well, that attracted the tag teams. All three of them to be exact. Not because they happened to be nearby, but because Trace was in the tag team locker room when he issued this open challenge. We're still unsure if this was an accident or if it was intentional. After all, Trace loved to stir the pot and not let sleeping dogs lie.
"What's that, little man? Did you say something?" Dwight Gladstone stood up and took a giant step toward Trace. This obviously had an effect on the smaller man.
"Yeah, m-maybe I did," Trace mumbled, but quickly covered his fear with more bravado. "I can take any one of you. I'm undefeated. Bet none of you can say the same. So, who wants some?"
"You have no clue where you are right now, do you, punk?"
"Duh. Roadhouse Rasslin. Again, duh. Do YOU know where you are?"
Trace looked around the room at the 5 other men with a "can you believe this guy?" look on his face.
"I think you better leave, dude," said Jessup Lacroix, Gladstone's tag team partner.
"Oooh, am I scaring you? Are the wittle-bitty not-undefeated amateurs scared?" Trace mocked Jessup in a baby voice.
So you can see where this was headed, right? This went on for another minute or two.
Outside the tag team locker room, dishing food onto their plates at the buffet table, Owensby Smith and his better half, Sara Michaels, are startled when they hear a big bang and a door burst open. There on the floor, in a pile of pitiable mess, was Trace Jensen.
"Don't you DARE talk 'bout my momma like that!" Dwight Gladstone yelled as he stood over Jensen's crumpled body, staring down at him with seething rage in his eyes.
"All I said is that you could learn a thing or two about just lyin' down," Trace tried reasoning. "I only meant that, well, you should be familiar with getting pinned, like she is."
"Whoa, guys! What's goin' on?" Owensby set his plate down on the table and moved to interject.
"This puke stain came into our locker room and started runnin' his mouth. I think he's high," said Jessup, who was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. Whatever was left of the door frame. The door was originally suppose to open IN to the locker room.
"Trace, what the HELL is wrong with you?!" Sara looked down at the guy on the floor as he tried to wiggle away from Dwight, but to no avail. Every inch Trace scurried, Gladstone was above him. That must be how a wounded mouse feels trying to escape, say, a Bengal tiger, she thought. But would a tiger even bother?
"Let's all just calm down, okay? I'm sure we can work this out like adults."
"Stay outta this, Smith!" Gladstone bellowed. "This doesn't concern you."
"Look, all I'm tryna say is--"
"Everybody stop what you're doing!" Security had arrived, and they had stun guns at the ready.
The owner of N.E.R.R. accompanied his security officers. An eccentric millionaire with too much money to spend and a passion for violence, William Tate funded the whole operation at a loss. He needed butts in seats.
"Is there a problem here?" asked Tate, secretly jumping for joy on the inside.
"I want this man's head! Ever since he came here he's run his mouth and, I think I can speak for the rest of us," Gladstone said, gesturing to the men and women in the crowd that had formed. "When I say we're sick and tired of it!"
"Yeah!"
"Amen!"
Pretty much everyone was nodding and vocally agreeing. Everyone, it seemed, but Owensby, who didn't really know Trace from a hole in the wall. Even Sara was in agreement. Though she never told her boyfriend because she didn't want to upset or otherwise distract him, Trace had grabbed her ass the first night Owensby and her showed up at Roadhouse Rasslin, and then proclaimed, "this, too, shall be mine!"
"All right, okay!" Tate said. "I know exactly how we're going to settle this."
And, yeah. That's pretty much how Owensby got dragged into the longest 44 minutes and 16 seconds of his life.
>>> HANGOVER'S EVE <<<
Crash had left the ring to chase after Trace. He didn't care about the match, he wanted to put the hurt on Jensen. That left Bang and Smith in the ring. Now, Bang's a pretty big guy. Real sturdy, built like a brick shit-house. He had tried to keep his partner focused on the match--hello, a chance to get a title shot? Remember?--but even Bang couldn't hold Crash back. This was Owensby's chance.
... or not. Brick shit-house, after all.
For the next ten minutes or so, Owensby was beaten down like a fly to the swatter. A moth to a flame. Whatever analogy you prefer. Bang wasn't holding anything back, while Owensby was just trying to hold himself together. And then came the table, and Bang holding him up in a Powerbomb position.
"Well, at least it's about to be over," Owensby muttered to himself.
But he thought wrong.
>>> FLASHBACK <<<
> January, 2018 <
"Today I want to work on your reversals some more," said Theodore Logan. "Pretty much any offensive maneuver can be reversed, thus enabling you to use your opponent's strength and momentum against him."
"Isn't the best defense a strong offense? Or was it, the best offense is a strong defense? I can never remember," said Owensby with a sigh.
"I think it's the first one, babe."
"Me too. I gotta stop second-guessing myself."
Theodore, Owensby and Sara are in the ring of the New England Roadhouse Rasslin Dungeon (aka NERRD). It had all the amenities of a global gym. An aspiring wrestler's place to be. Open day and night, and for $60 anyone could rent it out for 4 hours, Monday-Wednesday. Thursdays and Fridays were reserved for Roadhouse Rasslers. As of 3 days ago that included Owensby. Because Rasslers didn't have to pay the $60 fee, Owensby was excited he wouldn't have to eat bologna and small cans of spaghetti-os all that month. He could upgrade to ham and maybe get a few big cans of raviolis. Or replace generic store brand Mac & Cheese with that fancy stuff Valveeta makes. Maybe. He still couldn't afford to get carried away. At least he wouldn't be stuck eating Ramen three times a day. That fact alone was worth getting excited about.
"Why bother with reversals when he should be focusing on his offense?" Sara asked Theo, her hands on her hips.
"Let's be realistic, kid."
Theo knew how much she hated being called 'kid,' but it slipped out. It slipped out a lot. She hated it because he was only a couple years older than her. He was also her step-brother.
"Owen's going to be out-sized, out-strengthed, and possibly out-numbered. Reversals are going to be his second best friend. Myself being his first, of course."
"Theo's right, sweetheart."
"About which part? Oh, whatever," Sara rolled her eyes. "So where do we begin?"
"Well, I should warn you guys that what I'm about to say might not make a whole lot of sense, at first."
"Go on."
"But take it from me, a guy that did pretty well in this department. The secret is..."
Theo stopped for dramatic pause.
"Is...?"
"What you need to do is..."
Another dramatic pause.
"Just tell us already!"
"When you're in a position or situation you really don't want to be in, you just need to envision yourself someplace better."
"Huh?" They said in unison.
"I'm not saying you should pretend to be at the beach or like you're winning the lottery, but where you want to be in the ring. How you want to be in the ring. Trust me, it truly helps."
>>> HANGOVER'S EVE <<<
Time Elapsed: 16:04
Bang was moments away from Powerbombing Owensby through the table he'd set up in the middle of the ring. Man, I'd really like to flip this situation around, he thought.
And that, to the best of his recollection, is how Owensby used a Hurricanrana to put Bang through the table and close out the first tier.
DING DING DING
Ring Announcer: "Ladies and gentlemen, Crash and Bang have been eliminated!"
>>> TO BE CONTINUED <<<
