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Lucha Country visit Hatton Ranch


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Disclaimer: The following segment is overly produced cinematic nonsense. It also contains a text version of a wrestling match.


A run down ranch comes into view, outside some sickly cattle mill around as in the distance dust can be seen rising above the road. A rumbling grows as slowly but surely a vehicle begins to approach the ranch.

It grows closer and closer, at the wheel is none other than Big Country, Mark Reese. In the passenger side is his best friend, El Parca, in the back of the truck is an absolute feast that’s fit for a king . The radio is playing 80’s cult hit Call Me by Blondie.

The camera changes to inside the ranch, joining the Hattons as they seem to be preparing for their visitors. Chase peaks through the shutters as the truck pulls up outside with a squeal of the brakes.

Chase: Them boys are here.


Graham nods, spitting a slurry of saliva and chewing tobacco onto the floor.

Graham: Let’s get to work.


We go back outside as El Parca and Reese go to exit their truck, legs dangling a little due to the sheer size of the truck. Inside, the Hattons begin to take up positions, one going upstairs as the car doors can be heard slamming shut.

Reese: See little buddy? This car is bigger than a pregnant elephant.


Parca: It really is very big, big country. But I told you before, I didn’t mean to get a Ford Ka I said a Ford Car!


The door to the ranch opens, complete with a dramatic overture of music by Hans Zimmer as Graham walks out onto the porch to confront Lucha Country.

Graham: Boys. I told you. This ain’t no dinner time. This is gonna be a rodeo. We ain’t sayin thanks, we ain’t grace, you ain’t eatin at our table. You ain’t ma boys. Them ma boys.



Flying up the driveway five Harleys come kicking gravel. The boys on them are hootin and hollerin as they circle the truck.

Watching from above, Chase kicks his feet up on the window ledge. As the hogs turn off, the thugs dismount, and Lucha Country looks unnerved by the situation.



Graham: No, I said we would eat your lunch, boy. Best turn away.



El Parca: I told you they didn’t want anything to do with us. You said it was the Christian way but these jerks don’t like Christmas!


Reese: I came here to celebrate Christmas!


Without warning, Reese charges the biggest, fattest biker.

Reese barrels over the poor guy with a grunt. They both tumble to the dirt entangled as the other four immediately rush Parca, raining down punches, Parca is overwhelmed by the onslaught and begins retreating back to the truck.

The camera switches back to Chase watching the carnage from above. Graham has joined him.

Chase: Whatcha thinkin?


Graham: Boys might buy us five minutes...I will get the housewarming gifts ready.


As the brawl continues, Reese picks up one of the motorcycles and throws it at three of Lucha Country’s adversaries, permanently incapacitating them as they land flat on their backs, pinned to the ground by the heavy Harley. Back at the truck, one of the goons attempts to slam Parca’s head into the hood, he blocks it with his foot and digs the goon in the ribs, creating distance. In an acrobatic effort he leaps onto the truck and dispatches the henchman and his friend who came running over with a beautiful, open armed moonsault. He staggers to his feet, kicking the dust off of his boots as a crane looms in the background.

Reese comes over smacking his buddy on the back who turns around ready for a fight. Reese throws his hands up.

Reese: Woah there little buddy! You’re crosser than an armadillo at Christmas! It’s your buddy!


Parca calms, the pair sweating despite the cold sun of winter. Before the duo can fully recover the door swings open once again, this time those crazy Hattons burst out wielding chainsaws like something out of a horror movie.

Graham: Imma carve me a ham.


Graham advances on Reese, revving the chainsaw and swinging it back and forth. Reese does the only sane thing he can do and begins to retreat, Graham chasing him to another section of the Scumchester Ranch.

Chase: Stop runnin’ boy! Gonna crack your innards open like one of them fifty kids of yours pinatas.


Parca: They have chainsaws.. REALLY? WE JUST HAD TO COME HERE HUH MARK?!


Parca quickly starts to run behind Chase as he chop-blocks Chase, cutting the big man down as the chainsaw gets inches away from Parca’s face.

Parca: Oh my fuck.


Parca rolls away from Chase as he frantically screams out for his best friend.



Chase: Goddammit boy! What’d my legs ever do to you.


Chase drags himself back to his knees, grabbing his chainsaw. Before he can reach it a flying Parca smashes into him, having been launched by Reese’s mighty arms. Parca swiftly dispatches the chainsaw, as Graham returns, slinging his own weapon to the ground as it sputters dead.

Parca: See! I told you it would work Big Country!


Their moment of victory is short lived as Graham barrels into both men, using his massive shoulders to knock Parca to the ground and Reese rolling backwards.

Parca kips up but is immediately met with a fist that sends him back down.

Reese comes charging in, but Graham lowers his torso and propels Reese high over him, letting gravity bring the big man down.

Graham rushes over to Chase and pulls him up.

Graham: Up, boy. Stage two, brother.


Together, Graham helps Chase limp along, they make their way into the barn.

Parca: Now.. I WAS gonna save this for the climax [Parca looks directly into the camera as a smirk can be seen behind the mask.] But, that kinda pissed me off.


Parca, without missing a beat, does a double backflip as he regroups with Mark Reese. As the two best friends stand side by side intense anime battle music can be heard. Parca, somehow, pulls out a katana literally out of thin air just like in anime shows.

Parca: Oh yea, it’s go time big guy.


Reese just blinks.

Reese: I don’t think we should be tryin’ to kill anyone little buddy, we’re the good guys.


Parca: Kill anyone? No! It’s for pizzazz.


Standing in the doorway of the barn. The Hattons taunt their opposition.

Chase: Who brings weapons with the intent of not usin em? I don’t understand your kind!


Parca: My kind?


Graham: Yeah! M word!


Parca: M word!?


Graham: Masked!


All hell erupts. Parca screeches as he charges. Exactly what the Hattons wanted. Reese, still recovering, is a step slow and watches helplessly as Parca leaps, misses, and disappears behind an elevated platform.

Unknown to Parca. The Hattons had laid a trap. And into the cage he had fallen with a clang.

Parca: YOU MONSTERS! You think you’re real funny huh!?


Chase: Damn straight! Perfect little box to ship your deadbeat ass back to Tiwana.


Suddenly, Reese lets out a bellow and charges, spearing both brothers through the wall of the barn, plunging out of view. A long time goes by, the audience and Parca fearing the worst.

With a grunt, Mark Reese heaves wooden boards off of his body like a country version of the Hulk. He wins the battle with gravity and staggers to save his little buddy.

As we come to a close the pair can be seen from behind walking towards their beaten up truck, the camera however begins to zoom out, slowly re-entering a room within the ranch. Left in view of the camera are two hands holding cigars, tattooed hands.


???: If you want something right… You need to do it yourself.

  • Mark Out! 7

"Amatuer cheat hunter, Resident OCWFED historian, Lover of spreadsheets, data and HOI, MASTER OF THE GOKART"




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