Post by Captain Howdy on Dec 22, 2012 20:19:44 GMT -6
Doctors want to check me
Poke me and dissect me
What do they expect?
Feelings from a wind-up toy?
I don't think so
I'm just a wind-up toy
A wind-up toy
I'm lost in a nightmare
Shiny white halls
Drawing rats on the wall
Solitary confinement
Chained in a cell
Got my own private hell
--From "Wind Up Toy" by Alice Cooper
The scene slowly fades in from black, as "Captain Howdy" by Twisted Sister begins to play. We find ourselves back in the well-appointed living room that we have come to expect when that music plays. The mammoth tree is fully decorated, and a fire burns cheerfully in the hearth. The room is fairly quiet, and we only see one person, James Jacobs, otherwise known as Captain Howdy, sitting on the leather couch. He smiles a bit at the camera, as the music begins to fade, and he begins to speak.
CAPTAIN HOWDY: Ah, you've made it again. Merry Christmas, everyone. What's that? You didn't expect me to say anything like that? Well, that's sort of the point, isn't it? I mean, I've made a career out of not being what people expected, by winning matches it seemed I had no place even being in. So why shouldn't that continue now? Besides that, if I have a favorite holiday, this is it. It's a time for giving, for being with friends and family. It's the most wonderful time of the year, so they say.
Apparently, the powers that be here in the NCW feel that same way. After all, they granted Ladanian Harper a reprieve by not booking him in a match against me after he put in what can only be described as a token effort last week. That's why I am not a big fan of tag team matches when going to a new place. You never know what you're getting for a partner before the bell rings. Maybe he was nervous, maybe he was just inexperienced. I suppose, in the spirit of things, I can forgive him for his lack of effort, and let things go.
As for young Mister Lockewood, and our National Champion, the Ace, I must admit that it was very interesting facing you both. I think I gave you all you could handle, and made you take notice. Thank you both for a fun match, and I look forward to meeting you both in the future.
What's that? Oh, the girls? They're out doing some last minute shopping. Seems that this happens every year around this time. Personally, I don't mind the quiet, being here alone.
VOICE: .'. ....!!
The camera pans to our left, and settles on the recliner on the other side of the room. Seated there, beer can attached somehow to his paw, is the scruffy, ragged teddy bear known as George. As usual, it seems that the only ones that can actaully hear him are the Captain and his friends, none of whom are home at the moment. The camera pulls back a bit, so that both George and the Captain are in the shot.
CH: Ah, George. I thought you went with the girls today.
G: .. .'. ... ....... .. ... ... ..... .......
CH: Well of course you can't go back into the toy store. You tried to have your way with half the Barbie section.
G: .... .... ...... ... ..
CH: I doubt they were asking for it, George. They can't talk. And don't tell me it was body language.
G: .... .. ...
CH: You are impossible. Look, why don't you go out to the kitchen. There's some egg nog in the fridge, and we've got all sorts of things to put in it. Go make yourself something.
G: ...... ....
The camera swings back to the Captain, who is sitting on the couch, shaking his head. He chuckles a bit, then continues.
CH: The things I put up with around here. So, this weekend before Christmas, I have been placed in a match with someone else whom I have never met. Mister James Warren, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I understand that you're a doctor? That's a good thing. Maybe you can help me with a problem I'm having. You see, I have this little friend. You may have noticed him, his name is George. Now, I don't know if George is an outward manifestation of a hidden trauma, or possibly a projection of some inner angst I might have. Or, he could just be a demonically posessed teddy bear. I've never been able to figure it out, to be honest. Maybe you can offer some insight?
I mean, you seem to think you know something about me, even though we've never met. I can save you some time and guesswork, if you like. I am a clinically diagnosed schizophrenic with seperate and distinct multiple personalities. We are fully aware of each other, and have even semi-integrated at times. I'm told we're a strange case, but that the only ones we pose any danger to are the opponents we meet in the ring. Well, sometimes their managers. And their families. And their friends...but let's not dwell on that, shall we?
Mister Warren, you seem to have this idea that you're going to have an easy time of things this week, simply because of my name and my past. You seem to have this notion that you're superior in the arts of delivering pain, just because you're a medical person. I may not have a PhD, but I do know a few things about causing pain. You don't last in this business as long as I have if that isn't the case. You don't win Titles, end careers, and survive the most brutal matches if you don't know something about the limits of the human body. I know what my limits are, Mister Warren, and they are quite vast. You seem surprised that I don't adverstise what those limits, or "weaknesses" as you put it, are.
I'm not that stupid.
I'm assuming you really aren't either, though I have to wonder from the little I've seen. I've already decided that if you were ever assigned to care for me in a medical facility in this great nation of ours, that I'd rather take my chances with the injury. I wouldn't mind too greatly if I got a chance to sample your wife's bedside manner, however.
Ow...I really should apologize for that. That joke was beneath me...right where she'd be. See? I can't control it all the time. Little things like that just sneak out. But, I digress. I wanted to commend you on at least knowing something about my past. Yes, I was at one time a children's television show host. Think Romper Room or Mister Rogers, if you're old enough to know what those things were. I was all set to take my show national, we were doing so well on the local ratings. Things couldn't have been any better, until...
Until the day a golddigging mother decided to have her son accuse me of being what you refered to me as. A pedophile. I sick, deranged person who would harm children. I was acquitted of all charges, when the child I was accused of abusing admitted his mother made the whole story up and made him say those things. You'd think I'd be happy with the verdict, but it cost me my wife and infant son when they left me. It cost me my show, as none of the networks would touch me, even when I was proven innocent. It cost me everything I worked for, every dream I had, and left me a broken, unhinged man.
I spent years working my way through that trauma. Eventually, I found wrestling, and for whatever reason, that soothed the beast that had grown in my soul. I lost my entire old life, but found a new one in which I could inflict as much damage on people as I wanted to, and get paid well to do it. Life became fun again, though I must admit, my other side had a tendency to spend a lot of time at the fore. He's not the nicest person, to be honest. I have a feeling you'll meet him this weekend. He likes the name of the show, by the way. Traum is something he loves causing.
I feel I should warn you as well, he's not very happy that you brought up the whole pedophile thing again. Everywhere we go, that seems to get thrown in our face. It's gotten boring, and makes him very angry. You asked what we are going to do to you? You really don't want to know. He goes after limbs much as a child might pull the wings off of a fly. He also has this thing about trying to break necks in new and interesting ways. I really wish you hadn't made him that mad, Mister Warren. You're really not going to be enjoying things much this week, and it's Christmas on top of it all. Hard to celebrate when you're in traction.
Mister Warren, if you really want to know what kind of Captain I am, I will tell you. I'm the type that lost everything, and then got more back than I ever imagined. You spoke of imaginary friends, but mine is real. Sure, he's a mental construct, but he's as real and alive as you or I. And he doesn't like you very much. Have you seen that tshirt, "The voices in my head don't like you" ? That's about where things stand here. He...we...I...am already planning the ways in which I will break you apart. I know what my game plan is. Very simply, I am going to beat on you until I fall down. I am going to drop you on your head, repeatedly, until your limbs fail to answer the desperate commands your brain is sending them. I am going to leave you counting lights in the ceiling, and wondering exactly where you are, as well as who you are. Simply put...
I am going to break you apart, and there's nothing you can do to stop me.
I am Captain Howdy. I am the man who keeps pissant doctors like you in business, especially whenever I appear on a wrestling card. Not only have you made a mistake of wording, but you had to go and do it during the one time of year that I am actually happy. You think you're smarter, better than me. I've yet to see a college degree save someone from having their brains beaten in.
Mister Warren, you can play doctor all you want. I don't care how many times you want to show me yours, I'm not showing you mine. I don't play that way. No, I play by my own rules. I am the one in charge of this game, and you're just here by my sufferance. In the end, when I tire of the game, when I have had enough of your bungling attempts to take control and change the rules, that's when you're going to find out what happens when I decide that, for you...
PLAYTIME'S OVER!!!
Doctor doctor, give me the news....I've got a bad case of breaking you. No pill's gonna cure my ills, I got a bad case of breaaaking you.....
Merry Christmas...and GET OUT!!!
"Captain Howdy" begins to play once again, as the man himself leaps up off his couch, maniac grin fully in place as he advances. The cameraman, familiar with what could happen, backs away quickly, letting the scene fade to black before heading out the door.
Poke me and dissect me
What do they expect?
Feelings from a wind-up toy?
I don't think so
I'm just a wind-up toy
A wind-up toy
I'm lost in a nightmare
Shiny white halls
Drawing rats on the wall
Solitary confinement
Chained in a cell
Got my own private hell
--From "Wind Up Toy" by Alice Cooper
The scene slowly fades in from black, as "Captain Howdy" by Twisted Sister begins to play. We find ourselves back in the well-appointed living room that we have come to expect when that music plays. The mammoth tree is fully decorated, and a fire burns cheerfully in the hearth. The room is fairly quiet, and we only see one person, James Jacobs, otherwise known as Captain Howdy, sitting on the leather couch. He smiles a bit at the camera, as the music begins to fade, and he begins to speak.
CAPTAIN HOWDY: Ah, you've made it again. Merry Christmas, everyone. What's that? You didn't expect me to say anything like that? Well, that's sort of the point, isn't it? I mean, I've made a career out of not being what people expected, by winning matches it seemed I had no place even being in. So why shouldn't that continue now? Besides that, if I have a favorite holiday, this is it. It's a time for giving, for being with friends and family. It's the most wonderful time of the year, so they say.
Apparently, the powers that be here in the NCW feel that same way. After all, they granted Ladanian Harper a reprieve by not booking him in a match against me after he put in what can only be described as a token effort last week. That's why I am not a big fan of tag team matches when going to a new place. You never know what you're getting for a partner before the bell rings. Maybe he was nervous, maybe he was just inexperienced. I suppose, in the spirit of things, I can forgive him for his lack of effort, and let things go.
As for young Mister Lockewood, and our National Champion, the Ace, I must admit that it was very interesting facing you both. I think I gave you all you could handle, and made you take notice. Thank you both for a fun match, and I look forward to meeting you both in the future.
What's that? Oh, the girls? They're out doing some last minute shopping. Seems that this happens every year around this time. Personally, I don't mind the quiet, being here alone.
VOICE: .'. ....!!
The camera pans to our left, and settles on the recliner on the other side of the room. Seated there, beer can attached somehow to his paw, is the scruffy, ragged teddy bear known as George. As usual, it seems that the only ones that can actaully hear him are the Captain and his friends, none of whom are home at the moment. The camera pulls back a bit, so that both George and the Captain are in the shot.
CH: Ah, George. I thought you went with the girls today.
G: .. .'. ... ....... .. ... ... ..... .......
CH: Well of course you can't go back into the toy store. You tried to have your way with half the Barbie section.
G: .... .... ...... ... ..
CH: I doubt they were asking for it, George. They can't talk. And don't tell me it was body language.
G: .... .. ...
CH: You are impossible. Look, why don't you go out to the kitchen. There's some egg nog in the fridge, and we've got all sorts of things to put in it. Go make yourself something.
G: ...... ....
The camera swings back to the Captain, who is sitting on the couch, shaking his head. He chuckles a bit, then continues.
CH: The things I put up with around here. So, this weekend before Christmas, I have been placed in a match with someone else whom I have never met. Mister James Warren, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I understand that you're a doctor? That's a good thing. Maybe you can help me with a problem I'm having. You see, I have this little friend. You may have noticed him, his name is George. Now, I don't know if George is an outward manifestation of a hidden trauma, or possibly a projection of some inner angst I might have. Or, he could just be a demonically posessed teddy bear. I've never been able to figure it out, to be honest. Maybe you can offer some insight?
I mean, you seem to think you know something about me, even though we've never met. I can save you some time and guesswork, if you like. I am a clinically diagnosed schizophrenic with seperate and distinct multiple personalities. We are fully aware of each other, and have even semi-integrated at times. I'm told we're a strange case, but that the only ones we pose any danger to are the opponents we meet in the ring. Well, sometimes their managers. And their families. And their friends...but let's not dwell on that, shall we?
Mister Warren, you seem to have this idea that you're going to have an easy time of things this week, simply because of my name and my past. You seem to have this notion that you're superior in the arts of delivering pain, just because you're a medical person. I may not have a PhD, but I do know a few things about causing pain. You don't last in this business as long as I have if that isn't the case. You don't win Titles, end careers, and survive the most brutal matches if you don't know something about the limits of the human body. I know what my limits are, Mister Warren, and they are quite vast. You seem surprised that I don't adverstise what those limits, or "weaknesses" as you put it, are.
I'm not that stupid.
I'm assuming you really aren't either, though I have to wonder from the little I've seen. I've already decided that if you were ever assigned to care for me in a medical facility in this great nation of ours, that I'd rather take my chances with the injury. I wouldn't mind too greatly if I got a chance to sample your wife's bedside manner, however.
Ow...I really should apologize for that. That joke was beneath me...right where she'd be. See? I can't control it all the time. Little things like that just sneak out. But, I digress. I wanted to commend you on at least knowing something about my past. Yes, I was at one time a children's television show host. Think Romper Room or Mister Rogers, if you're old enough to know what those things were. I was all set to take my show national, we were doing so well on the local ratings. Things couldn't have been any better, until...
Until the day a golddigging mother decided to have her son accuse me of being what you refered to me as. A pedophile. I sick, deranged person who would harm children. I was acquitted of all charges, when the child I was accused of abusing admitted his mother made the whole story up and made him say those things. You'd think I'd be happy with the verdict, but it cost me my wife and infant son when they left me. It cost me my show, as none of the networks would touch me, even when I was proven innocent. It cost me everything I worked for, every dream I had, and left me a broken, unhinged man.
I spent years working my way through that trauma. Eventually, I found wrestling, and for whatever reason, that soothed the beast that had grown in my soul. I lost my entire old life, but found a new one in which I could inflict as much damage on people as I wanted to, and get paid well to do it. Life became fun again, though I must admit, my other side had a tendency to spend a lot of time at the fore. He's not the nicest person, to be honest. I have a feeling you'll meet him this weekend. He likes the name of the show, by the way. Traum is something he loves causing.
I feel I should warn you as well, he's not very happy that you brought up the whole pedophile thing again. Everywhere we go, that seems to get thrown in our face. It's gotten boring, and makes him very angry. You asked what we are going to do to you? You really don't want to know. He goes after limbs much as a child might pull the wings off of a fly. He also has this thing about trying to break necks in new and interesting ways. I really wish you hadn't made him that mad, Mister Warren. You're really not going to be enjoying things much this week, and it's Christmas on top of it all. Hard to celebrate when you're in traction.
Mister Warren, if you really want to know what kind of Captain I am, I will tell you. I'm the type that lost everything, and then got more back than I ever imagined. You spoke of imaginary friends, but mine is real. Sure, he's a mental construct, but he's as real and alive as you or I. And he doesn't like you very much. Have you seen that tshirt, "The voices in my head don't like you" ? That's about where things stand here. He...we...I...am already planning the ways in which I will break you apart. I know what my game plan is. Very simply, I am going to beat on you until I fall down. I am going to drop you on your head, repeatedly, until your limbs fail to answer the desperate commands your brain is sending them. I am going to leave you counting lights in the ceiling, and wondering exactly where you are, as well as who you are. Simply put...
I am going to break you apart, and there's nothing you can do to stop me.
I am Captain Howdy. I am the man who keeps pissant doctors like you in business, especially whenever I appear on a wrestling card. Not only have you made a mistake of wording, but you had to go and do it during the one time of year that I am actually happy. You think you're smarter, better than me. I've yet to see a college degree save someone from having their brains beaten in.
Mister Warren, you can play doctor all you want. I don't care how many times you want to show me yours, I'm not showing you mine. I don't play that way. No, I play by my own rules. I am the one in charge of this game, and you're just here by my sufferance. In the end, when I tire of the game, when I have had enough of your bungling attempts to take control and change the rules, that's when you're going to find out what happens when I decide that, for you...
PLAYTIME'S OVER!!!
Doctor doctor, give me the news....I've got a bad case of breaking you. No pill's gonna cure my ills, I got a bad case of breaaaking you.....
Merry Christmas...and GET OUT!!!
"Captain Howdy" begins to play once again, as the man himself leaps up off his couch, maniac grin fully in place as he advances. The cameraman, familiar with what could happen, backs away quickly, letting the scene fade to black before heading out the door.