Title: Snake Nation Is Here.
Featuring: "Big Rig" Clyde Walker
Date: 1.26.19
Location: Snake Nation.
Show: Evolution 40

“You know hoss..” 

[Blackness - the snap of a can of beer opening up.] 

“They say that it takes a 1, 2, 3 count - or a tap, tap, tap on the mat for a man to claim victory. Do yall’ think that’s really true? Go on, humor the redneck honcho the Oklahoma swamps, do yall’ really believe that?” 

[The blackness dissipates - and we see a fire along with a man of massive proportions stoking it, while he downs his brew in one swallow. He crumples it up with a cackle and then throws the can into the fire.] 

“Ignorance is a beautiful thing, ain’t it? Shit, half of my family live out of their own minds and love every God damn minute of it. Thing is, I expect more out of you rasslin’ encyclopedia folk. Then again…” 

[The man laughs again, pushing his stick against the flaming logs.] 

“Yall’ aint never seen a motherfucka’ like me before, have you? Naw, you ain’t never seen a man that brings with him a punch that feels like you’re being shoulder tackled by a gah-damn 18-wheeler. That’s the thing though - I’m the Big Rig - the man of the swamp that comes out to the play with the big bad wolf, like he’s nothing but another block to hopscotch - and there’s something far different to me than anyone you ever met before, boss.” 

[Suddenly, a pack of silhouettes walk up and align with the man. They too, all holding cans of beer, pat the big man on his shoulders.] 

“This here? This here is Snake Nation - and mah’ hitching crew ain’t nothing to be dealt with on an average day. If you’re here to make a move, you better be just as prepared as you’d be handling a gang of bobcats, boss. Because I don’t need no damn 1, 2, 3 - and I damn sure don’t need no tap, tap, tap for the boy that wants to play the game to call it a day. I just need this…” 

[One of silhouetted men throws what appears to be a flask into the fire, and the fire rises into the sky - clearly something like gasoline. As the fire grows, the silhouettes die away and we now see all of the men wearing identical leather jackets. And the big man in the middle? A trucker hat on backwards, covering his massive clump of curly brown hair. His arms are as big as light posts. They all turn around. On their leather jackets reads:


With a white viper that seems to pirouette around the letters.] 

[Big Rig - otherwise known as Clyde Walker - laughs, exposing his battered teeth. And the stare - that of a possessed devil, and the snarl that follows - silences the rest of his boys.] 

“You thought I was just playin’ games, huh? We don’t play games out here. We own this land - and you know what? We owe all of you. You want to play fairytale chaingang in that ring? Well, we’ll bring our own chains and settle down that rucus - won’t we Jager?” 

[A black haired monster of a man - the one directly to the right of Clyde steps forward and simply nods his head with a grunt.] 

“This motherfucker right here?” 

[Clyde grabs ahold of his shoulder.] 

“He snapped someone’s spine with one stiff haymaker, because the asshole wanted to try him in a game of cards and underhand the devil. Do yall’ realize how damn difficult it is to do that? Let’s just come down from our big-dick trees for a second and think about that for a second. I have no sorrow, or what have you, for the guy though. He chose to dance with the devil and this is what you get when you want to play that game of ballet. Hey Jager, if you the devil though - what the hell does that make us?” 

[Jager smiles, mashing his fist against the palm of his other hand.] 


“Shit, that’s right, ain’t it?” 

[One of Rig’s boys passes him another beer. He pops it open and once again, slams it in one slurp. He then tosses the can over his back.] 

“We’re ALL devils - a sinister circle of collective spine-smashing son of a bitches that make a hobby in finding the typical badass that wants to think that he can toss it up with the big boys in order to prove a point in principal.” 

[Rollins - another one of Rig’s Snake Nation boys - in his gritty, lizard-like voice, yells at the top of his lungs.] 

“They cayn’t!” 

[Rig laughs.] 

“When you decide to detour through Snake Nation it takes one punch to go night night. You see, we ain’t got time for that 1, 2, 3 bullshit. And playing the submissive role? We’ll leave that shit to them shades of gray folk. We’re here to hurt people that want to act like a threat. There ain’t no threat in this fuckin’ swamp, there ain’t no threat on the roads behind the wheel of the 18-wheel pavement demon, and there most definitely ain’t no threat in the CWF. You know what there is though? Tell ‘em Mule.” 

[Mule - the size of a grand piano - with a stained wife-beater and a beard that’s full of beer suds - let’s out a huge belch.] 


“Victims you say, Mule? Extrapo--Extrapo--fuck it, give ‘em more.” 

“Dead by sunrise.” [Mule says with a slow nod.] 

“A mountain of corpses yet that just need some remindin’ that they dead already, ain’t that right Mule?” [Rig asks Mule, whom nods back quickly and slaps Rig’s chest.] 

[Rig walks up to the camera.] 

“Let’s get real for a second, boss. You think I’m in a match? You think I’m walking in that ring to play Mr. Choreographer? Did you know who you signed up with, you dumb bastards? This ain’t no act, no show play at the damn theatre. This is a FIGHTING game. You think I’m in this for some bullshit gold? We got plenty of gold down here, don’t we? That shit is gold beer and weed. And we gots enough of that gold to last a lifetime - and if we run out, they bring us more. And you know why? Because we OWN this shit - and pretty soon? The Snake Nation will OWN CWF. And not by playing the suit and tie routine bullshit - I mean come on now…” 

[The gang laughs it up for a second.] 

“You take us for the suit and tie bunch? Naw, we live by a very different code, ya’see? And it’s called PUNISHMENT. And that punishment doesn’t go away. We’re the god damn underground floor of every prison in AMURICA! Where the bad boys who got beef exchange fists for the sake of settling a dispute - whether the guards allow it or not. And once that beef is over, WE decide if any further reckoning need be done. You see, CWF don’t decide what becomes of that tornado match that they got us in.” 

[Rollins speaks up.] 

“We do, ain’t that right, Rig?” 

[Rig laughs.] 

“Oh, you’re damn right we do. We ain’t never listened to a damn word authority had to say outside of this big ole’ wrestling federation, and who’s to say we gon’ listen now? But yall’ gon’ thank me before it’s all over, you know that right?” 

“Tell ‘em why, Rig.” [Mule shouts.] 

“You think they ready for that?” [Rig asks.] 

“It don’t matta’ if they ready!” 

[Rig winks at Mule, clearly giving him kudos for reacting appropriately.] 

“Because I am going to do something to yall’s place the likes of which has never happened before. I am going to put it on a map that reaches further than you could ever imagined, because controversy sells, my boys. And you know what? That’s what we all about here in the swamps of Oklahoma, because it brings the best God damn reactions. And life? Existence? All that shit? It’s all about the reactions - the fireworks - it’s all about what they got to say when it’s all said and done - and you know what they’ll say?” 

[All of a sudden, another pack of Rig’s boys appear. There’s now, at the very least, forty to fifty men behind him.] 

“Where the hell did they all come from? What do they have planned? What they gon’ do to our little house on the prarie? And once they do it, what we gon’ do? Like little lambs running around in a franny - not sure whether to hide or scream at the top of your lungs. You ain’t met motherfuckas like us and whether you choose to bring a gang or a gun to the god damn fight when the time comes, the storm that we bring forth will turn your assholes inside out. Yall’ got me?” 

[A loud horn, followed by a MASSIVE 18-wheeler pulling up directly in front of the bonfire. It honks again.] 


[Rig reunites with the rest of his crew and they all turn towards the fire. The light from the 18-wheeler beams against them, to show a massive snake that starts from one jacket to the next and connects all the way to end.] 

“Snake nation is here.” 

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