Title: The Boys Are Here.
Featuring: "Big Rig" Clyde Walker
Date: 2.2.18
Location: Sacramento, Cal-For-Nye-Aye
Show: Evolution 41



Sacramento, California
500 David J Stern Walk
Golden 1 Center

[Yes, indeed. It’s a beautiful night here in Sacramento. The starry night, the moon looming like a territorial guardian, and that sobering feeling of subconsciously believing that all of California’s smog has packed its bags and drifted to another state. And there, the grand Golden 1 Center - where our boy and his boys, “Big Rig” Clyde Walker and the Fifth-Wheel boys of Snake Nation, will march into like the rebelliously notorious sons of bitches that they are - looking to establish “fun” in the most dangerous of ways.]

[HONK HONK.]

[What’s this? An 18-wheeler semi? Parked in front of the coliseum? You’re damn right - fashioned with a bull’s skull attached to the chrome grill, and the painting of a devil woman sipping on a brew with Clyde’s giddy-smiling face covering her bare titties.]

[And of course, he’s brought his friends.The rear trailer door opens up and it looks like a college dormitory in there. And yep, all the boys are in there.]

[Mule.]

[Rollins.]

[Jager.]

[And somebody that we’ve yet to meet - an old-timer, considerably close in looks to Charlie Daniels - with a cowboy hat, grisly white beard, and a pair of sunshades over his eyes. They call him Hank.]

“Aw yeah - that’s right. The boys are HERRRRRRRRRRRRE!”

[Clyde kicks open the driver’s side door, causing a gang of empty beer bottles and cans to dribble out onto the pavement. He’s liquored up properly, and Clyde wouldn’t have it any other way. He belly-laughs and walks over to his boys as they step out of the trailer.]

“Can you believe this, yall’? We in celebrity county. Nobody gon’ know what to do with us.”

[Hank looks around with his eyebrows raised.]

“I just want a hooker while I’m here. Just one.”

[The rest of the gang grimace, much to Hank’s chagrin.]

“I’m old, you greased-up bastards. I deserve me one of them lookers - shit, best way to go if you ask me.”

“Best way to go where?” [Rollins asks.]

“Shit, to Heaven or…” [Hank scoffs.] “To Hell. Whatever. Have that heart attack while she jumpin’ on it.”

[They all laugh until Clyde tells them to hush. It literally takes him furrowing his eyebrows and pressing his finger against his lips.]

“This ain’t all jokes and jabs, boys. We gots us a job on our hands - and we gon’ make it as dirty of a job as possible. WHERE YOU AT, MAX BECKER?! WHERE YOU AT?!

[Mule mashes his fist against his palm and smiles - exposing horrible. Nightmare-inducing teeth.]

“We’re here.”

“Oh you damn right we here.” [Clyde says as he smacks Mule’s back.] “Shit, SNAKE NATION is here - I brought my whole brigade with me, MAXI, now WHERE YOU AT WITH YOURS? You hiding? He hiding ain’t he, boys?”

[Jager smacks the side of the truck.]

“Hidin’ like a SCARED SHEEP.

“Oh don’t you worry yaself’, Jager.” [Clyde says as he pulls out a bottle of Brandy from his cargo pants. He unscrews it, takes a swig, and then presses it against Jager’s chest - who gladly accepts the gesture.]

“Don’t you worry at all, because that sheep can hide for as long he wants. Fact of the matter is this - and yall’ know it - we the wolves of this motherfucker. Those toothless scumb bags on Wall Street ain’t got half-a-boner on us - and these German empiracle Jerrys know the deal - they hunker down when the heat is on and fall to pieces. Just go back to the war to end all wars…”

[Rollins raises his eyebrows - absolutely the dullest, most stupid one of them all.]

“War to end all wars?”

[Mule turns to him.]

“World War. The first one.”

“When the hell did the world wage war? And if we are the only world that know of, then who the in the hell did we fight? Fuckin’ aliens?”

[Jager, Mule, and even Hank look at Rollins like they’ve seen a ghost.]

“You can’t be serious.”

[Jager tries to give the benefit of doubt - but Rollins doesn’t let up.]

“Shit, so SORRY Jager that you’re all read up on the world’s alien warfare and I ain’t. Fuck.”

[Nobody touches it. Instead, Clyde giggles to himself and walks over to the passenger side of his truck. He opens the door and reaches in there for something.]

“I want these motherfuckers to know that we ain’t playin’ games. Shit, I want CWF to know that they never invited Snake Nation to the party - they invited the motherfuckin’ PARTY to Snake Nation, and that party starts right here - in this sleazy, hot ass city under the lights - where the blood REALLY sparkles and shines, right boys?!”

[The Fifth-Wheel gang hoot and holler. All the while, Rig pulls out a backpack that’s filled with something. He slings it over his shoulder and starts to walk toward the front entrance of the Golden 1 Center - smiling from ear to ear. Once they reach the door, Clyde unzips the bag and pours its contents on the ground.]

[Spray paint? Lots of it. And ALL different colors.]

“Let’s show these motherfuckas’ how colorful we can be, what do yall’ say?”

[The gang laughs and starts to pull out spray paint. And they immediately go to town - spraying the glass from doors, the surrounding the walls, the front sign that has “GOLDEN 1 CENTER” in blocky, white lettering - everything that the boys could see and imagine as a canvas was marked with their unorthodox artwork.]

[“FIFTH WHEEL BOYS 4EVER”]

[“JERRYS NOT ALLOWED”]

[“FUCK OFF, BITCH BRIGADE”]

[“THE BOYS ARE HERE”]

[“S.N.R” - SNAKE NATION REVIVAL”]

[And then, of course, the occasional penis - aptly titled the “Jesus Schlongs of America”, titties, and ad-opportunities for their favorite drinks - Jim Beam, Hiram Walker, and Wild Turkey. Once they were done, the boys - including Clyde - took a step back and admired their work. The majority of Golden 1 Center’s front-face was absolutely defaced.]

“How you feelin’, Rig?” [Asks Jager, as he passes him back the bottle of brandy.]

[Clyde takes a swig, lets it circle in his mouth, and then swallows. He takes in a deep breath, and snarls lightly under his breath.]

“I feel - I feel like a million dollars, Jager. I don’t believe they’ve taken us seriously, have they?”

[Clyde glances his boys for a second, who intently stare back.]

“Naw, they haven’t. They don’t know us. They don’t know our capabilities. This Max Becker fuck doesn’t know us from a GAW-DAMN HOLE IN THE WALL - and that shit is unacceptable. This entire wrestling… wrestling LANDSCAPE don’t know us, damn it, and I’ll be DAMNED if they don’t know us by the time we truck our asses out of Sacramento. You know what I do know though? They gon’ love us, man. Yeah, they gon’ be suckin’ our dicks before too long - because we’re the kind of blue-collar rebellion that everyone wants to find inside of themselves.”

“Blue-collar Rebellion..” [Rollins repeats.] “I like that shit.

“That’s what we is, Rollins. That’s what we is, boys - the modern day rebels, cowboys, a fucking BRIGADE of Jesse James stunt-double eager to storm through the gates and make just as much of an impact as the silver bullet that smashed into Ferdinand’s brain. We were born to start a rip tide the likes of which nobody has ever seen or experienced before - a fucking wave that convinces you that you’re dead well before it actually happens. We can lay down that devastation because we were born to raise Hell - and raise Hell we will.”

[Mule speaks up.]

“This is more than just a rasslin’ match.”

[Clyde takes another swig of the brandy.]

“This is a revolution, Mule. This is OUR revolution - the fucking dream that I’ve had since the last day they paid me to drive truck coming to life. There ain’t nothing more trippy and celebratory than seeing something as trippy as a dream come to life - with fucking arms and legs to boot - and it’s time for us to…”

[Jager screams.]

TIME FOR US TO FUCK THAT DREAM!

[They all hoot and holler.] “YEEEEEEHAW!

[Clyde lifts his bottle of brandy in the air.]

“No rubber, baby. Dry docked and packed to the brim. WHERE DA’ FUCK YOU AT, MAX BECKER? Come get this - come be a part of this party and let’s see how good you can dance. Matter fact, let’s see how well you’re entire BRIGADE dances when they come to our neck of the woods. We come hard - and we don’t stop until the cops come, ya’heard? Let that be the lasting tingle that puckers up your asshole for my Size-14 boot - because whether you like it or not…”

[Clyde turns and spreads his arms out wide.]

“THE BOYS ARE HERE!”

[Fade.]



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