Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2017 20:56:57 GMT -5
2/28/2017
Kansas City, MO
Hubert Smalls was an individual that certainly on his own did not stand out in a crowd. A lawnmower-torn Braves hat atop his head, an almost Hollywood-chic smattering of southern-fried facial hair, a white t-shirt featuring a sunglasses-clad Dare Clemmens on the front and a pair of torn jeans -- he looked like any other young guy on the Kansas City grid. Standing in a small terrace situated on the far side of the Hilton President with a distant grin on his face and travel bag set to the side: Hubert was just another tourist.
Until the camera pans to a wider shot, that is.
Attached to a thin leash, Hubert Smalls’ tabby cat known affectionately as Tail Earnhardt (or T.E. for short) curiously poked his pink nose around the plant life, marking his territory on various ferns and flowers as he trotted around the circumference that the elastic string would allow.
Smalls had arrived only a half-hour prior to this. While air travel had been extremely taxing on him at the beginning of his career, he had finally adapted enough to become somewhat relaxed outside of the confines of his safe haven back in New York. This said, Hubert was always relieved once the wheels of the jet touched down -- mainly for moments like this to where the cat could explore…
“Alright, he’s going potty now.”
...and also drain his bladder.
While the process of traveling was something that Hubie had become to grow accustomed to, the gig in Kansas City was certainly new territory for him. Still only a couple of months into professional wrestling “as a way to pay rent and buy groceries” as he plainly puts it, the suggestion from his friend/caretaker to explore Union Battleground as a means to increase his revenue would offer new challenges for him.
Having established a reputation and a still-growing fan base in the AWE, the soft-spoken and simple-minded Mississippi native would now have to use that same charm to endear an audience that was not yet familiar with the enigma.
A victim of presently unknown events from an early age, the teen-aged Hubert had developed a personality disorder that had caused him to gradually revert to a childlike state. Once under the care of his grandmother, due to her untimely passing, Smalls had no other choice but to venture out into the “real world” outside of Petal and do anything he could to eek out a living. His impressive amateur background propelled him to “audition” for a job in New York City that he immediately accepted.
However, this was not exactly a reputable “wrestling” company. Instead, his athleticism was merely utilized to play the enhancement talent in seedy fetish films. Smalls, due to his disorder, was mostly oblivious to this and could not mentally comprehend the nature of this type of work. Thankfully, one person in particular: a star of some of those said productions, took him under her wing and guided him towards the path he presently walked. Behind the scenes, she was responsible for coordinating his training, getting him hired with the AWE and Union Battleground, and also served the role as his secretary -- ensuring all of his travel and lodging arrangements were set.
He was now a real “rassler,” like the ones he used to see on TV.
“Hey y’all,” Smalls utters, looking directly into the lens of the camera. Again, without much comprehension of theater, Hubert was not one to allow himself to be natural when he was the singular subject of an interview.
“Um, I reckon you caught me at the right time to be filmin’. Tail here just pooped and dug him a hole to bury it in so y’all didn’t have to see that,” he chuckles, cheeks turning a slight shade of pink at the mention of the word “pooped.”
“Plus,” Hubert continues, “I guess this here’s purty’er than havin’ me to do talkin’ in my hotel room. I didn’t have no time to do this back in New York ‘cause I was busy trainin’ and stuff, but I knew I had to say hey to y’all before tomorrow evenin’. They told me in the Union Battlefields that most of y’all don’t know me so it’d be nice to make an interview.”
Smalls shrugs, revealing another sheepish and toothy grin. Meanwhile, Tail Earnhardt has made his way back closer to his daddy, rubbing affectionately against his denim-covered legs. Hubert reaches down to give the cat a friendly scratch behind his ears, which causes the cat to in turn flop down and reveal his snow white stomach. In a bent-over position, Hubert turns his eyes back to the lens.
“Sorry. He wants him a belly rub.”
Falling down to one knee, Smalls obliges the cat’s request. To his delight, T.E. purrs with gratitude. While not the greatest at multitasking, Hubert continues his rub down while facing the camera and pressing forward.
“I reckon some people might thank it’s a little weird that I got me a pet cat I carry with me. I know I done told them in the Alpha Rasslin’ Empires about why but I know y’all in Union Battlin’ don’t know why. Sometimes I get nervous and stuff and he’s what they call a ‘ther’upy animal’ so he keeps me calmed down. He makes me not be like a cat on a hot tin roof, which I guess is funny ‘cause he’s a cat and he makes me not be like one!” Hubert exclaims, chuckling at his own little attempt at humor.
“But anyway,” he segues. “I guess I’m a little extra nervous ‘cause I’m gon’ be on the cable TV for the first time tomorrow. I gotta ‘rassle a man called Mike Savage and my other ‘rasslin friends don’t really know who he is, so I don’t really know who he is neither. So I might get my butt whooped, but I know I gotta do good for the AWE and also really gotta do good for y’all ‘cause I wanna make the Union Battlefields my other home too.
“I gotta little of what my trainer Charley calls ‘rope time’ and I’m gettin’ familiar with what you gotta do to get a pin or make someone quit. But even if I lose, I hope y’all have a good time watchin’ me,” Hubert remarks. “And I hope ever’one here in Kansas likes it too. It’s purty nice here, I reckon.”
Tail Earnhardt, satisfied with the attention, climbs back to his feet and resumes his quest to find some sort of insect to chase as he stalks his way back towards the vegetation. Hubert gives a sigh and pulls himself back to a standing position. He pulls his cap off only to readjust it back over his hair.
“Mike Savage,” he mutters, scratching his mustache in contemplation. “Savage kind of a funny name for someone to be havin’ ‘cause it also means ‘mean.’ I don’t know if he’s mean for real or if’n it’s just his name, but I reckon if he is mean I best be on my tippy-toes.
“I don’t see much sense in bein’ mean. Some people told me, ‘Hubert, sometimes you gotta get mad in the ring ‘cause it can intimidate who you fightin’.’ ‘Intimidator’ was Dale Earnhardt’s...not Tail but Dale...his nickname. ‘Cause sometimes he had to get mean to win the race. So I understand that.
“But,” Hubert ponders, “I think you can just be purty good at rasslin and win the race. Well, not the race but the match, but I reckon it’s the same almost. I liked Dale Earnhardt but I figure I might be more like the Jeff Gordons. He called himself the ‘Rainbow Warrior’ and rainbows are nice and good and not mean at all and he still won a lot.
“I don’t think I’ll call myself Hubert Rainbow though,” Smalls proclaims. “Rainbows don’t really know how to put on no full nelsons or nothin’ like that.”
Smalls, nodding his head knowingly (like he just had some type of really profound point) soaks in the thought.
“Uh...sorry. I reckon that’s all I know to say right now. I’ll see y’all tomorrow. C’mon Tail, let’s go in.”
And with this -- what has become somewhat of the status quo for Hubert promos -- he turns to gather his belongings and his feline and walks out of the range of sight of the camera. And we fade.
Kansas City, MO
Hubert Smalls was an individual that certainly on his own did not stand out in a crowd. A lawnmower-torn Braves hat atop his head, an almost Hollywood-chic smattering of southern-fried facial hair, a white t-shirt featuring a sunglasses-clad Dare Clemmens on the front and a pair of torn jeans -- he looked like any other young guy on the Kansas City grid. Standing in a small terrace situated on the far side of the Hilton President with a distant grin on his face and travel bag set to the side: Hubert was just another tourist.
Until the camera pans to a wider shot, that is.
Attached to a thin leash, Hubert Smalls’ tabby cat known affectionately as Tail Earnhardt (or T.E. for short) curiously poked his pink nose around the plant life, marking his territory on various ferns and flowers as he trotted around the circumference that the elastic string would allow.
Smalls had arrived only a half-hour prior to this. While air travel had been extremely taxing on him at the beginning of his career, he had finally adapted enough to become somewhat relaxed outside of the confines of his safe haven back in New York. This said, Hubert was always relieved once the wheels of the jet touched down -- mainly for moments like this to where the cat could explore…
“Alright, he’s going potty now.”
...and also drain his bladder.
While the process of traveling was something that Hubie had become to grow accustomed to, the gig in Kansas City was certainly new territory for him. Still only a couple of months into professional wrestling “as a way to pay rent and buy groceries” as he plainly puts it, the suggestion from his friend/caretaker to explore Union Battleground as a means to increase his revenue would offer new challenges for him.
Having established a reputation and a still-growing fan base in the AWE, the soft-spoken and simple-minded Mississippi native would now have to use that same charm to endear an audience that was not yet familiar with the enigma.
A victim of presently unknown events from an early age, the teen-aged Hubert had developed a personality disorder that had caused him to gradually revert to a childlike state. Once under the care of his grandmother, due to her untimely passing, Smalls had no other choice but to venture out into the “real world” outside of Petal and do anything he could to eek out a living. His impressive amateur background propelled him to “audition” for a job in New York City that he immediately accepted.
However, this was not exactly a reputable “wrestling” company. Instead, his athleticism was merely utilized to play the enhancement talent in seedy fetish films. Smalls, due to his disorder, was mostly oblivious to this and could not mentally comprehend the nature of this type of work. Thankfully, one person in particular: a star of some of those said productions, took him under her wing and guided him towards the path he presently walked. Behind the scenes, she was responsible for coordinating his training, getting him hired with the AWE and Union Battleground, and also served the role as his secretary -- ensuring all of his travel and lodging arrangements were set.
He was now a real “rassler,” like the ones he used to see on TV.
“Hey y’all,” Smalls utters, looking directly into the lens of the camera. Again, without much comprehension of theater, Hubert was not one to allow himself to be natural when he was the singular subject of an interview.
“Um, I reckon you caught me at the right time to be filmin’. Tail here just pooped and dug him a hole to bury it in so y’all didn’t have to see that,” he chuckles, cheeks turning a slight shade of pink at the mention of the word “pooped.”
“Plus,” Hubert continues, “I guess this here’s purty’er than havin’ me to do talkin’ in my hotel room. I didn’t have no time to do this back in New York ‘cause I was busy trainin’ and stuff, but I knew I had to say hey to y’all before tomorrow evenin’. They told me in the Union Battlefields that most of y’all don’t know me so it’d be nice to make an interview.”
Smalls shrugs, revealing another sheepish and toothy grin. Meanwhile, Tail Earnhardt has made his way back closer to his daddy, rubbing affectionately against his denim-covered legs. Hubert reaches down to give the cat a friendly scratch behind his ears, which causes the cat to in turn flop down and reveal his snow white stomach. In a bent-over position, Hubert turns his eyes back to the lens.
“Sorry. He wants him a belly rub.”
Falling down to one knee, Smalls obliges the cat’s request. To his delight, T.E. purrs with gratitude. While not the greatest at multitasking, Hubert continues his rub down while facing the camera and pressing forward.
“I reckon some people might thank it’s a little weird that I got me a pet cat I carry with me. I know I done told them in the Alpha Rasslin’ Empires about why but I know y’all in Union Battlin’ don’t know why. Sometimes I get nervous and stuff and he’s what they call a ‘ther’upy animal’ so he keeps me calmed down. He makes me not be like a cat on a hot tin roof, which I guess is funny ‘cause he’s a cat and he makes me not be like one!” Hubert exclaims, chuckling at his own little attempt at humor.
“But anyway,” he segues. “I guess I’m a little extra nervous ‘cause I’m gon’ be on the cable TV for the first time tomorrow. I gotta ‘rassle a man called Mike Savage and my other ‘rasslin friends don’t really know who he is, so I don’t really know who he is neither. So I might get my butt whooped, but I know I gotta do good for the AWE and also really gotta do good for y’all ‘cause I wanna make the Union Battlefields my other home too.
“I gotta little of what my trainer Charley calls ‘rope time’ and I’m gettin’ familiar with what you gotta do to get a pin or make someone quit. But even if I lose, I hope y’all have a good time watchin’ me,” Hubert remarks. “And I hope ever’one here in Kansas likes it too. It’s purty nice here, I reckon.”
Tail Earnhardt, satisfied with the attention, climbs back to his feet and resumes his quest to find some sort of insect to chase as he stalks his way back towards the vegetation. Hubert gives a sigh and pulls himself back to a standing position. He pulls his cap off only to readjust it back over his hair.
“Mike Savage,” he mutters, scratching his mustache in contemplation. “Savage kind of a funny name for someone to be havin’ ‘cause it also means ‘mean.’ I don’t know if he’s mean for real or if’n it’s just his name, but I reckon if he is mean I best be on my tippy-toes.
“I don’t see much sense in bein’ mean. Some people told me, ‘Hubert, sometimes you gotta get mad in the ring ‘cause it can intimidate who you fightin’.’ ‘Intimidator’ was Dale Earnhardt’s...not Tail but Dale...his nickname. ‘Cause sometimes he had to get mean to win the race. So I understand that.
“But,” Hubert ponders, “I think you can just be purty good at rasslin and win the race. Well, not the race but the match, but I reckon it’s the same almost. I liked Dale Earnhardt but I figure I might be more like the Jeff Gordons. He called himself the ‘Rainbow Warrior’ and rainbows are nice and good and not mean at all and he still won a lot.
“I don’t think I’ll call myself Hubert Rainbow though,” Smalls proclaims. “Rainbows don’t really know how to put on no full nelsons or nothin’ like that.”
Smalls, nodding his head knowingly (like he just had some type of really profound point) soaks in the thought.
“Uh...sorry. I reckon that’s all I know to say right now. I’ll see y’all tomorrow. C’mon Tail, let’s go in.”
And with this -- what has become somewhat of the status quo for Hubert promos -- he turns to gather his belongings and his feline and walks out of the range of sight of the camera. And we fade.