Third Match

[Allura Desmonds]

Third Match
Bullrope Match
Number One Contender Match for BAMF Championship
Johnny Reb vs Tyler Cross

RP Limit: 2 Per Person

Deadline: 10/02/20 at 11:59pm eastern time

Grace Period: 10/04/20 at 11:59pm eastern time

Good Luck

[Allura Desmonds]

Tyler Cross has spoken.

[thenewcsa]

*The camera falls on the interior of the stables at Rebel Ranch as Johnny Reb works tirelessly already. Sweat pours from his brow as he works without a shirt on but wearing his oakley's and hat with dirty jeans and his quintessential cowboy boots and spurs. He wields a pitchfork as he works tirelessly to clear the stables for his horses. A big pile of manure sits in a nearby wheelbarrow as he tosses the crab apples on the pile working hard enough but putting emphasis into every motion as he moves on with anger clearly in his mind. He stops for a moment wiping sweat from his brow with an old bandana from his back pocket before tossing another onto the pile before sticking the pitchfork into the pile. He spits to the side before looking up into the camera with an angry demeanor.*

J.R.: It's horse shit!

*He pulls out the pitchfork and sets it to the side as he begins to pick up the wheel barrow by it's handles and move the large collection of dookie to the outside of the barn.*

J.R.: I mean all of it, ain't it. Here I am in the middle of a match it comes down to me, some no nothin' burrito muncher and Al Pacino's sloppy seconds and all of a sudden BAM. They count me out and that bitch wins without layin' a finger on yer ol' pal Johnny Reb. And now because of some other sumbitch I got to earn my spot back? Aw hell no. That ain't the way this rodeo gonna play out, you can cuaran-damn-tee that!

*He tips the wheelbarrow up and dumps it into a big pile out by the stables. He shakes it violently before putting it down and moving back to the stables with vigor the camera following as he does.*

J.R.: And then to top my fuckin' week off they put me up against the sonuvabitch I won the title from in the first place. Cross, I know you been itchin' to take me down a peg since I done whooped yer ass but I got news for ya. That ain't gonna happen. You and I both know how this little dance card plays out. Every damn time yer ass faces me it will always end the same way. With you countin' the light fixtures and me standin' over yer ass. Now, that bein said I know this ain't gonna be easy. Bull rope match or not. Hell get it? Rope? Knot? I got a million of 'em. And the funniest part of the joke was when I said it wouldn't be easy cause it sure as hell will. Now you can bet yer ass you'll be gunnin' for me, boy. I know ya. You couldn't cut it in the title picture so you come back down to visit us in the minor leagues. I know they call you the greatest BAMF champion out there cause ya held that belt longer then most well i got news for you , asshole, this is but a bump in the road. Cause ya see the belt is MINE! THE BELT IS MINE! And you can bet yer ass that Jersey Jezebel is only keepin' it warm fer me.

*He sets the wheelbarrow down and moves to a nearby haystack wiping his forehead for a moment as he sits . He takes off his hat and sets it down before looking at the camera again.*

J.R.: See that's the problem with bein' the best ain't it. Everyone thinks they deserve it. They think they deserve somethin' they didn't earn. Guys like Dario, yeah he got in a good sucker punch but he didn't earn it cause I knocked him on his ass flatter then Sonny Liston. And Joanne she didn't do shit to me. You know why? Cause she couldn't do shit to me. Cause she ain't nothin' just another runner up in the vamps "one that got away" playbook. She was runnin' scared that match and come hell or high water she's either gonna earn that belt or I'm gonna kick those newly formed fangs right down her throat! She wants to call herself the Badf Ass Motherfucker of the NC Dubya! Then she better earn that shit before she goes runnin' that cockholster of hers! And as for you, you pablo picasso paintin' yer face with yer mother's make up, punky brewster's outfit wearin' used-to-be ex-champ... well you about to get knocked out by the man that rocked your world not once-not twice- but soon to be three times now. And there ain't anyone on God's green earth that can stop me. Not you. Not Diarrhea Argento Juarez or whatever it is or even the Red Wing's call girl. Not a damn one of you will stop me from gettin' back what is rightfully mine!

Candi: Baby? You in here?

*Candi walks around the other end of the stables entrance as Johnny quickly grabs his hat to cover his head as if suddenly feeling naked. She bounces up with a smile on her sweet face as her shirt seems to bounce with her in certain ways that capture the male demographic of 18-34 year olds.*

Candi: There you are. What have you been doing?

J.R.: Oh, you know. Runnin' my mouth. Shovelin' shit. The usual. Thinkin' 'bout how I'm gonna get my belt back.

*She just sits beside him placing a hand on his shoulder her shirt a simple black one with the phrase "Got Milk?" on it in bold letters. She just simply nods at him sweetly laying her head on his shoulder.*

Candi: Oh, baby, don't worry. I'm sure you'll get it back.

J.R.: Yeah?

Candi: Of course. Your my man. And my man is always tough and funny but most of all smart. You'll figure it out.

*Johnny seems taken aback with the answer but smiles and kisses her forehead.*

J.R.: Thanks, that... that means alot. How ya takin' to the farm. I mean it ain't no Las Vegas but I hope it ain't too bad for ya...

*Candi just laughs and rolls her eyes.*

Candi: I may have moved to the big city but I'm from Nebraska. I lived on a farm most of my life. It seemed stupid at first but truth is I like this place. Feels like a real home.

*Johnny's smile broadens as he wraps his arms about her.*

J.R.: Well, y'all are just full o' surprises, ain't ya? How did I get so lucky to end up with a great girl like you?

Candi: You got drunk and fucked a strippers brains out.

J.R.: Damn, you're right. I am so damn talented.

*They both share a laugh before they kiss each other sweetly and Candi breaks the embrace standing up and saluting.*

Candi: Well this is my farm too now so... I'm ready to work , boss.

*Johnny stands clearly impressed grabbing a nearby shovel from behind the haystack as he faces her.*

J.R.: How are you at shovelin' shit?

*She shrugs*

Candi: Well, I did live in L.A. for four years so...

*Johnny just laughs and hands her the shovel proudly.*

J.R.: That counts.

*The two share another laugh as Johnny goes to grab his pitchfork and they get to the arduous task before them as the scene fades to black.*