Private: Garry Ray-Ray Bolamba
It’s a dreary day in the backwoods of Kentucky. Overhead the sky is a myriad of shades of gray, the ominous clouds at varying heights spit rain downwards on the people of Nelson County. Three black Chevy Suburbans pound across a back-country chip and seal road ignoring the weather. The vehicles steer almost in sync as they operate in a convoy, their windows impossible to see inside through dark black tint. The convoy pushes forward through the rain and across the windy road. The cornfields they drive through appear endless, rolling across hills and valleys as far as the human eye could see.
The enormous gas guzzling SUVs continue onwards. They finally begin to slow down as they round a bend and the cornfield is replaced by dirt fields that are surrounded by a chain link fence. The lead Suburban begins to accelerate and the rest follow as they continue down the winding country road. The scenery doesn’t change, hundreds of acres of unplanted dirt. They cross a small bridge that goes across a creek, take another quick bend, and finally the lead vehicle begins to slow down and starts to turn off of the road and onto a long winding driveway.
The vehicles slowly creep across the uncared for dirt and gravel driveway and approach the fence line. A chain link gate is closed with a number of ‘NO TRESPASSING’ signs fastened to it. The lead Suburban pays it no mind and explodes through the gate with the other two SUVs following closely behind. Finally, at the large farm house at the end of the driveway, they come to a stop. Now, on the side of each SUV, is a giant white number three surrounded by bright red pinstriping. Beneath it, in crudely masking taped on letters, it reads “BOLAMBALAND”.
Out of the driver’s seat of the front of the vehicle steps “Rhino Horn” Shinji Komiya. a mysterious birdman appears from the passenger seat, and out of the back The Beasts of Tokyo (Seiko Serizawa and HAMAYUMI.) All of the men are dressed in all-black tactical gear and immediately make their way to the middle car. The four men stand at the four corners of the vehicle as Lord Kurosame-sama steps from the front of the vehicle. The man-shark steps around to the back of the SUV and looks at the back vehicle.
The “Hippo of the Deathmatch” Rory Hayes nods his head as he stands beside the antler wearing Crimson Miracle Bloody Blood Death Homicycle. Lord Kurosame-sama looks at the bicycle momentarily before nodding his head and opening the back door. First one gloss black leather military boot, then another, and finally, in all of his glory, Generalissimo Garry ‘Ray-Ray’ Bolamba steps forth. His long black trench coat hangs by his ankles. Across his chest are a number of military awards. Well, at least that’s what would normally go there; instead, there are a number of collectible Dale Earnhardt pins, a mini yellow Busch Light ribbon for the fight against cancer, and two strips of red duct tape that randomly have other colors marked on them in sharpie.
He straightens his figure and brushes his very soft and very thin mustache with his leather glove covered hand. His eyes scan the dirt fields, shifting back and forth. His eyes dart over towards where a barn would normally be, and instead a pile of debris and a bulldozer sit. The Generalissimo’s eyes look towards Lord Kurosame-sama and points around the farm.
“Smell anythin’?” The Generalissimo asks Lord Kurosame-sama. The man-shark’s eyes widen and he begins to sniff the air. He walks out into the dirt field and sniffs around. See, sharks are the bloodhounds of the sea, and Garry ‘Ray-Ray’ Bolamba is a smart man, and a good leader. He definitely remembers that line from something he watched on shark week. Lord Kurosame-sama turns back towards his friend and proclaims definitively.
Garry nods and looks towards the white farm house. “He don’t smell nothin’, Shinji, Seiko, and HAMAYUMI, check out the house. If the doors are locked, break them down.” He points towards the roof, “a mysterious birdman and Bug, provide air support.”
Garry begins to march forward behind the Rhino Horn, but turns back towards the rear of the vehicle and Rory Hayes and The Crimson Miracle Bloody Blood Death Homicycle. “You two, take guard outside, if anyone tries to come in, you know what to do.”
Garry turns back around and marches forward as Rory Hayes cracks his knuckles in acknowledgement. Garry makes it to the bottom of the steps, while Shinji slides a rhino horned headband over his head and The Beasts of Tokyo each grab an arm. Shinji throws himself/is thrown at the door shoulder first and the door explodes inwards sending Shinji flying across the floor. Ray-Ray salutes The Beasts of Tokyo before he passes between them, while he and Lord Kurosame-sama step inside.
Garry’s eyes pilfer their way across the room, object to object. A thick layer of dust has collected across every surface. Lord Kurosame-sama walks into the kitchen, while the large Kentuckian steps foot into his living room. All of the furniture is still there, the couch with the plastic dust cover, the television that doubled as a stand for various knicknacks and picture frames. His mothers bookshelf was still there, filled with her precious moments figurines. The Generalissimo steps forward towards the television, his leather boots clicking on the hardwood. He picks up an empty picture frame from the top of the television and looks it over quizzically.
Garry pivots on his heel and turns back towards the man-shark who looks nothing like a shark-man, and more like a man who wears a shark mask. He rushes over and takes a piece of paper from his hands.
“RE” Garry looks at the giant red letters and tries to sound out the words.
“REPOS-SESH” This might be a minute.
“REPOS-SESH-ON NOT” Yeah. Lord Kurosame-sama pulls up a chair while Garry continues to struggle.
“REPOS-SESH-ON NOT-ICE.” Lord Kurosame-sama stairs at The Generalissimo as he stands in thought. Garry’s mind is racing faster than Dale into the last turn four he’d ever take at Daytona.
“Well buddy, I got some good news and I got some bad news. The bad news is someone repoed my family and took them ta a place called Sesh. The good news is none of them are on ice…” Garry tries to finish but Lord Kurosame-sama snatches the paper out of his hand.
“Oh, well, I always had a hard time with figurin’ out the words…” Garry says somberly as Lord Kurosame-sama reads over the paper. It is his third language, so it does take him a few moments, but still not nearly as long as Garry. Lord Kurosame-sama’s hand goes back over the top part and he reads through it again, this time a little slower so the Generalissimo doesn’t feel bad.
“It’s a tough one, ain’t it?” Garry remarks, his arms moving across his chest and he stands there silently waiting. His eyes scan the kitchen, all the open cupboards and dust would have had his Mama fuming with rage. Finally, Lord Kurosame-sama notices his friend dazing off into a stupor and speaks up again.
“Well ain’t that ‘bout a…” The Generalissimo’s proclamation is cut off by the piercing cry of a thousand geese.
Garry spins around rapidly, looking back towards the door and down the open driveway. The Big Blue Bug and a mysterious birdman jump down off of the front porch roof while The Beasts of Tokyo and Rhino Horn take up very tactical positions at the bottom of the porch step. The Generalissimo passes them all and steps forward into a now raging thunderstorm. The wind whips at his jacket and cape as he peers down the dirt driveway at the white mid-2000’s era Cadillac with all of its windows exploded.
“Sniffers workin’ pretty good if ya smell bacon,” Garry responds as Rory Hayes steps forward with his prisoner, a fat little bald man in a gray suit. What’s left of the man’s donut haircut is blown against and stuck to the side of his head, his eyes are wide, a trickle of blood is oozing down one of his ears.
“Generalissimo, this man says he knows you,” Rory tosses the man forward. The fat man can’t get his footing and instead falls down to his knees. Rory spits in the man’s direction. “But he used the old name.”
“Easy friend, easy,” The Generalissimo wraps his arm around Lord Kurosame-sama. He slowly spins him around 180 degrees and pats his stomach. “There ya go friend, I’ll have Rory take ya out of that cat-ta-tonic state here in a minute once ya settled down.”
Garry steps towards the kneeling fat bald man, the fat bald man looking up at Garry with relief as he grimaces and places his hand against his ear.
“He don’t know our ways, gentlemonsters. He ain’t never heard of no Bolambaland, he don’t know ‘bout the name that we don’t say. This one ain’t no heretic, he’s just ign-ant,” the man smiles and nods at Garry hopefully. Ray-Ray’s warm smile washes away as he turns away from Rory and towards the rest of the Monster Army. “But…”
The fatman’s smile slowly fades as well.
“…we still must punish dear old Reverend Bill here so he doesn’t make the same mistake again.” Garry points towards the Beasts of Tokyo and gestures to the kneeling man. “Take him inside and make him sit on the plastic couch.”
David Noble. What a stupid fancy fuckin’ name.
Ya know, my Momma always told me peoples names meant somethin’. That some time, back before we all were speakin’ American just like the good lord Dale intended, people were speakin’ in different tongues. Now David, I’ve seen some folks that can speak in some different tongues a time or two, ya know, since I’ve been ta Japan. Oh, and because my best friend, compatriot, hetero-monsterial life partner, and second in command Lord Kurosame-sama is a shark.
Davey, did ya know I learned ta speak a whole new language? See, when I was in Japan, I couldn’t speak ta the people. And I tried to learn their language, but it was real hard and had a lot of big weird soundin’ words and I didn’t like it much. But my friend Lord Kurosame-sama is a great friend, who happens ta speak a great language, and the official second language of Bolambaland: 🦈.
I learned it real good. I’m totally fluent.
But I’m off topic. Ya know, carryin’ on, had one too many Busch Lights or somethin’.
My Momma told me that names meant somethin’, that back when the folks were speakin’ in tongues and usin’ their fancy languages like English or French, people’s last names meant somethin’. So apparently, yer some fancy, pancy noble. But ya know what David, one time I stayed awake all through Mrs. Evans’ History Class in the fourth grade and I learned what nobles are, and that even though they were the boss, they had ta answer ta some feller. Do ya know who that was David?
They answered ta the King.
So ya must be the groups underling, ya know, like the guy that doesn’t really belong but everyone just lets stick around ‘cause yer funny, or like ya make a mean apple pie, or ya always bring the weed to the party.
See Davey, we could be sittin’ ‘round a campfire right now, smokin’ weed. Ya know, havin’ fun, singin’ lil funny songs we can come up with. Maybe we could even make some smores because we’re really hungry and have the munchies.
We could be doin’ that right this second Davey.
But you had to fucking ruin it.
Just like ya prolly ruined the first time ya were ‘round in PRIME, just like ya ruined yer time in that other place we don’t talk ‘bout ‘cause we all have some form of trauma associated with it, or ya know, the other three-hundred and forty-six places yer ass was in. Ya had ta fuckin’ ruin it.
It could have been so easy Davey, we could be just like Dale and Davey Allison. Before either of them died in tragic car crashes, but when Dale rises again he’ll bring back Davey, ‘cause ain’t nobody had nothin’ bad ta say ‘bout Davey Allison. But ya, we could be like that. Like if I died and was immortalized into a folk hero and a minor religion for rednecks and hilljacks everywhere and I could want ta have ya right there by my side.
But I don’t Davey.
I don’t want ya by my side.
I want ya dead in the fuckin’ dirt.
Do ya know what ya did Davey? Do ya know what ya started?
Down where I’m from, ya know what they call this?
They call it a fuckin’ blood feud Davey.
It’s a god damn war, and ya started it. Ya fired the first shot, and guess what Davey, ya prolly looked at my stupid brother Eddie, and my dear old darling father Timo and thought my Uncle The Anglo Luchador was ripe for the takin’. That ya could just walk up ta him and make a bunch of mean, cruel jokes about his age. INTOXICATE a man with an unknown substance. What if he was allergic? What happened if he had one of them hypo, ya know, one of those big fits where people choke a lot. Like my sister when she’s havin’ the problems with her asthma and needs three puffs on the inhaler instead of two.
Ya didn’t think ‘bout that. Ya didn’t think ‘bout my lil nephew who just watched his father go through hell on earth on night one of UltraVIOLENCE, ya didn’t think ‘bout his wife sittin’ there on her big giant pile of money that I’d really like ta inherit a piece of, ya didn’t think ‘bout nothin’.
And most importantly, I don’t think ya thought ‘bout the Generalissimo and Bolambaland’s Monster Army. I don’t think ya thought ‘bout the hell we could inflict on ya, I don’t think ya thought about the fact ya had ta step inta the ring with the finest fightin’ son of a bitch west of the great country of America, that ya had ta step in there with the god damn mother fuckin’ Bang! Hardweight Champion.
And I don’t think ya realized how bad ya were gonna piss him off.
‘Cause unlike my little brother Eddie, I honor my family name. I fight for my family. I will die for my family.
And I will defend the honor of The Anglo Luchador Bolamba until all of the strength leaves my cold dead fuckin’ corpse.
And I don’t think ya can do that Davey, I don’t think that you, that dumb fuckin’ group named KING, all them Kinetic motherfuckers, I don’t think ANY of ya can put me in my place and put me dead in a fuckin’ ditch.
Instead, yer gonna be in the ring with me Davey. Yer gonna be in the ring with an International Colossus, the leader of the free Monster World. Yer gonna be in there with a man destined to scratch and claw his way through this tournament in the name of BOLAMBA!
And I will defend all of our honor.
Davey boy Noble. At ReVival, yer gonna find out what happens when ya shoot the first shot and don’t claim a fuckin’ body. I think that Sun-Tzu feller Lord Kurosame-sama likes said:
Ya become a fuckin’ corpse.
FOR THE GENERALISSIMO!
The gray skies and thunderstorms of mid-day fade over into night. After a few hours on his Mama’s plastic covered couch, The Generalissimo ordered the fat man moved to a more secluded space. He now finds himself in a small room lit crudely from the floor by a camping lantern and two flashlights, with only a nightstand and a chair that he happens to be tied to. The exhaustion of the day washes over him and his head slumps forward. His triple chin rests against his own chest as he takes a labored breath. The door opens and the Generalissimo is silhouetted by the poor lighting in the door frame. The fat man stirs as the leather military boots click forward into the room and the door slams shut.
“Long time no see Reverend,” Garry takes his M.Bison cosplay hat off the top of his head and sets it on the only non-floor surface in the room.
“Yeah, Ray-Ray. It’s been awhile,” Reverend Bill looks up from his slouch and coughs. The two men stand for another few moments in silence.
“What the hell is going on here, Ray-Ray?”
“Those, those are my friends, the loyal subjects of Bolambaland, the Monster Army,” Garry slowly takes his military jacket off and carefully folds it, he picks up the hat and places the jacket underneath it.
“What in tarnation is Bolambaland?” The fat man pleads.
“It’s the country I started and that I’m the leader of,” Garry slowly unbuttons the wrist cuff of his military surplus black long sleeve dress shirt and begins to roll up the sleeve. The fat man begins to chuckle in confusion.
“I’m sorry… you’re the leader of a country? Sweet lord Garry ‘Ray-Ray’ Nelson what in the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?” The Generalissimo smirks as he unbuttons the other wrist cuff and begins to roll that sleeve up as well. “Garry, son, what the he…”
The Generalissimo lunges towards Reverend Bill and shoves him backwards in the chair by his jowls. His enormous hand envelopes the fat man’s face and he squeezes the Reverend’s cheeks together and snarls. “Yer done askin’ the questions Reverend, it’s my fuckin’ turn,” Reverend Bill tries to object, but his fat face is so smushed together all he can do is wiggle his goldfish-like lips and moan. “Where the fuck is my family Reverend? It’s fuckin’ harvest season, and theres not a tractor on this fuckin’ property, there ain’t even a fuckin’ barn for the tractors ta go in anymore. And my family ain’t here,” Garry shakes the fat man again, the chair tips over backwards and crashes to the floor. The Generalissimo steps over the chair and drops his knees down across the Reverend’s shoulders.
“WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY!?” Garry roars as he grabs the fat man’s face again and squeezes, this time digging his well manicured, and well cared for nails into the fat man’s cheeks. The Reverend frantically whimpers and moans and finally The Generalissimo relinquishes his jowl hold.
“I… I don’t know Gar…”
“Ya tell me where the fuck they are Bill, or I will slap you so hard you meet your big bad God and his little crucified friend Jesus too,” The Generalissimo seethes, his slap morphing to another odd type of trained jowl hold.
“Garry, if I knew, I’d tell you. Your Momma said she never wanted to see me again, and your father threatened to kill me… it’s a real long story Garry. They moved Garry, they up and moved, one day I came up, there was a letter, and they were gone…”
Garry slumps off of the old man and takes a few sharp, short breaths.
“What’d they do with the money, Bill…” Garry asks curtly.
“Money? Your family didn’t have any money Garry…” Reverend Bill stammers before rolling over onto his side and taking the pressure off of his probably broken arms. Gary slowly stands to his feet and takes a few more deep breaths. He walks over to the night stand, and slowly slides his long coat over his shoulders and places his hat back on his head.
“Garry, what the hell are you going to do with me?” Reverend Bill asks as The Generalissimo steps towards Reverend Bill. He doesn’t say anything, but he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his steel heeled military boot into the air and smashes it into the fat man’s face. The Bang! Hardweight champion turns, and walks out the door. He closes the door behind him and walks down the stairs.
“Let’s go,” The Generalissimo orders and the Monster Army walks forward out of the house. The Big Blue Bug and a mysterious bird man jump down from the roof and begin to walk towards the SUVs. Lord Kurosame-sama opens the back door of the SUV as the Generalissimo approaches and steps foot inside.
Anything for family.