Post by Derek Brooks on May 29, 2017 3:11:06 GMT
When there’s a chance of a lifetime at stake, you get nervous. You feel a fear that you thought you’d never feel before, but there it is. You know the feeling. It feels like someone has your stomach in the palm of their hands and they’re squeezing and twisting it in every which way. Sweat starts to pour from your forehead, dripping in a puddle beneath you. Doubt starts to creep into your mind, and you can’t help but wonder…”What if?”
We’ve all been there before, yes, even the man who will not only call himself “Destined for Greatness”, but the man who after Night of the Immortals, after the ladder match, will be known to the world as the “Joker in the Pack”...Derek Brooks.
As the scene opens, you sit on the edge of your seat in anticipation, wondering what it is he’ll say not only about the match, but about his opponents as well.
There’s also a select few of you peeking over at your girlfriend out of the corner of your eye wondering how much she’s going to enjoy it.
The scene fades in and the man who’s going to win at Night of the Immortals is standing beside the prop he will use to ascend to those lofty heights, staring up in the air. He slowly turns toward the camera, pointing to where it is he was gazing moments earlier.
It’s a long, long climb to the top. Some people, those gifted with a name, or perhaps money to pay their way forward are able to make said climb a bit faster than the rest.
The rest of us?
He grabs hold of the ladder and takes a step up.
The rest of us are forced to climb each and every rung, one day at a time, doing what it is we need to do to get by the person just ahead of us. It’s the reason for this match. Check this…
He takes a deep breath and looks dead seriously into the camera.
Now pay attention you A.D.D. specialists, for this doesn’t happen often, but the man destined for greatness is about to put on a show in the name of humility.
He resets his manner, rubbing his hand over his head and face, not once, but twice. He takes another deep breath.
Okay, here it goes. I know my name is Derek Brooks, and I’m going to break this little persona for a moment to tell you all that the fact that I haven’t been around on a consistent basis is not a missed idea to me. It’s completely real, and unfortunately for those who look up to me, they’ve had to find other ways to find me.
He throws his hands in front of himself. The wave of air rushes across the scene in front of him, the force enough to rattle the leaves in front of him.
That...ENDS...NOW!
He points down in front of himself as if he were Superman cracking the ground beneath him with a single fist.
No more going off to Hollywood for this smiling must see character. No! Now, after Sunday, when I win the Joker In The Pack, this man can be seen one place, on one station, in your living room, whooping that ass and taking the names of all the rest on his way to the greatness he is so destined for. Consider this my designation, my indication, and my declaration that this sum bitch in front of you is here in the IWF, and the sporadic appearances are set to become a thing of the past because after all...once I win Joker in the Pack, and then go on to face whatever hermit Irishman there is holding the championship, or goody goody doing his best to live by his moral code, it simply won’t matter because greatness isn’t just coming gentlemen...GREATNESS...IS...HERE!
He ascends another step on the ladder.
So let’s talk about this coming show shall we?
LIIIIIIIIIIVE FROM COLUMBUS, OHIO! THE HORSESHOOOOOE! The home of the Ohio State Buckeyes! There’s a ladder match, a flippy midget, a former Man of Steel, a pitbull from the A-T-L and a couple of wannabes whose best bet is they hit each other with a ladder and save themselves the embarrassment of actually having to compete...and then there’s me...the man who will win...because it is destined to happen.
Another step up the ladder.
So let’s talk about those two shall we? The Lost Boys is it? One question...could you stay lost? Like, farther away? The two of you run your mouths like you’re something special, but in the end, you’re a couple of guys who can’t cut it on your own, so you thought that if you stuck your fists together and said something along the lines of “Assclowns unite!” you might suddenly become relevant.
Hell, I come around once a month and have made more of an impact than either of you have made in your entire lives, and that includes the stretch marks you gave your mother during birth that she probably still hasn’t gotten rid of.
I’m sure you’ll yap, and you’ll claw, and you might even get lucky and climb this ladder to the promise land, but know this you punkass bitches...Derek Brooks will always be there to send you back down, plummeting to the mat below, lying amongst the waste that is the IWF bottom dwellers...where you belong while the meaningful stars like myself continue our ascent to greatness.
He takes another step up.
And then there’s Ryan Shane...where the hell have you been? The last time I remember your gremlin lookin ass, you actually beat me in a match...then disappeared. You were the one that everyone praised in the back. You had the skill and you’d occasionally flash some brilliance on a microphone, but just like most who are praised and featured, you couldn’t handle the pressure. You couldn’t handle the grind of the IWF and therefore you left.
You didn’t just leave Ryan, you took your ball and you went home.
He puts his hand into his chest.
Now I’m not going to sit here and criticize you for leaving, Hell, God knows I’ve been off and on television more times than you’ve had to pull your penis out of a four foot tall hooker because that’s about the jist of what your bitch ass can get, and for the love of God, you’d better pull out every single time, because if you crossbreed with a little person in the guise of a hooker, we will legitimately see the first troll baby crawling on God’s green earth; but the what I will criticize you for is taking legitimate talent and letting it go to waste. See, that’s where you and I differ. You were one of those people who was able to shoot up the ladder. You had the Man of Steel Title, and you did nothing to capitalize that, and for that reason, I plan on taking a ladder and shoving it straight up your ass!
Another two steps up, another two steps closer to greatness.
I’m so close to the top, I can taste it. Do you know what I mean?
He turns to the camera.
Will?
Yeah! Will God Damn Fenell! The leftover badass of the Redneck Renegades. The man who talks the talk like few can, myself excluded of course, but when it comes to walking the walk...he falls...well...a little short.
I mean, kudos brother for fighting on after your partner went down at the hands of those Lost Idiots, but honestly dude, what’s the point in you being in the match at Night of the Immortals? Did you lose a bet? Did you need some money and a payday from the biggest show of the year was the only thing that could get you over the hump so you begged and pleaded to get on the show?
Do you even understand exactly what it is you’re in for this Sunday Night at the Horseshoe!?
You’re trying for something, the same as the rest of us, something that means so damn much...a shot at immortality. Now I’m not talking about that fake crap in a movie, or the bullshit Angel Blake spews on about...I’m talking about the chance to write your name in the history books, become the Joker In The Pack and pretty much guarantee yourself the best shot at a championship you’ll ever get.
I could be wrong Will...that seems a bit too big of a stage for you...I don’t think you can handle it…
His tone burst into a scream as his passion shows through every pore in his skin.
BUT FEAR NOT!
I’m destined for greatness in case you haven’t heard, and I would be absolutely ecstatic to take that burden off your shoulders. So here’s what you do Will...you show up, you put on a good little show, and you walk out with your head held high knowing you tried oh so hard...but like the rest of the time...you just couldn’t measure up.
He takes another two steps up and is now standing at the top rung of the ladder.
This is where you like it...isn’t it Sir Flipsalot?
I know of you, I’d be stupid not to. You, Devlin Rain are the man who won the Cruiserweight Invitational. You went through all the rest and you flipped your way into glory, and who knows, you might just do it again at Night of the Immortals.
He shrugs his shoulders.
Then again, maybe what happened against Spike Kane will happen again. You’ll get built up with anticipation, and like a drunk teenager, not that I condone underage drinking BUT, like a drunk teenager the night of prom, you’ll just be a bit...premature.
You’ll stand up here on top of the ladder, and you’ll get overzealous looking down at some fallen opponents, perhaps even me, and you’ll look out to the crowd and they’ll cheer you on as you look down again and decide…”This is my moment.”
No, not your moment to become the Joker In The Pack, your moment to have replayed over and over again each year before the big event. You’ll leap through the air and crash through all the opponents, and the crowd will cheer, and they’ll be shocked, and they’ll probably chant “This is awesome.” You’ll feel bold, hurt, but in the end elated with the response.
Then you’ll realize...yeah, it was awesome for a moment, but it was stupid in another as someone else, while you’re too hurt to stand, reaches up and grabs the contract.
You’re a daredevil Devlin...but the fact of the matter is, do you have it up here…
He points to his head.
To know what’s awesome for a moment, and what can last a lifetime?
He swings his leg over the ladder and sits atop the metal contraption with a smile on his face.
This...this is where I belong. This is where the people want me to be. This is where...destiny...wants me to be. I’ll punch teeth out of throats, punch people in their faces, and stick my boot so far up asses I’ll use two of you to walk, and I’ll climb that ladder in the center of the ring. I’ll reach up and not only grab the contract, but the fabled brass ring. I will prove my destiny to be true, and there’s not a damn thing the rest of you can do to stop me.
Try as you will, you’ll only be preventing the inevitable.
Then...when I win...it will indeed be time to fulfill MY destiny.
The scene zooms in on his eyes, concentrated, intent, and then, like the snap of the fingers...darkness.
“Things Just Got Serious - Part 2”
Last you saw, my mother was in danger and my truck had been damaged beyond repair. I was trying to keep my cool while asking one of my co-workers for a ride home. I didn’t want him to know what was going on, and I didn’t want the rest to know either.
This was my fight...not theirs.
We pulled up on the street leading up to my mother’s cul-de-sac, and I saw some black trucks wrapped around. ”What’s going on up there Derek?”
I narrowed my gaze and studied the situation. ”Pull over up here. I’ll walk up.”
He did as asked. ”Are you sure man? I can pull you up to the house.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. ”I appreciate it bud. I want to see what’s going on. Besides, you’d be making me lose my street cred if I rolled up in the passenger seat.”
He shook his head and then nodded. I got out of the car and he pulled off as I slowly made my way up to the driveway, peeking over the gravel area to see two guys standing outside my mother’s front door. Little did they know, there was another way in. I walked down the street in the opposite direction and cut around the fence, walking up the sides of yards, blocked off by privacy fences, not allowing them to see the landscape all around them. I came up to the fence that was mine, there was a gate that I had built in, knowing that this was a possibility. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but in the end...I knew...with Shane, anything was possible. I opened the gate and snuck in around the shed in back, going inside, knowing I would need an equalizer.
I wasn’t one for guns, but when the time came, I knew the numbers wouldn’t be in my favor.
I stepped into the shed, leaving it open a crack for some light, and I moved a couple of crates, finally getting to the bottom and opening a compartment I had dug in under the shed. I reached in and pulled out four pistols and a belt, wrapping it around my body, holstering two of them while tucking the other in my waistband, and cocking the other back, ready to do what needed to be done.
From the shed, I crept around the bushes and other gardens, doing my best to stay out of sight, making my way to the side of the house. I ducked under the front window and whisked around the corner aiming two guns at both men before they could even move. ”Get over here.”
The two looked at one another and held their hands up. ”Toss your guns into the yard, nice and easy. Make a move and you won’t have a kneecap.”
The two did as told and slowly walked in my direction before starting a full on charge. With my pistols silenced, I shot at both of their legs, and they both collapsed, writhing in pain. I ran up, planting a boot into the side of one, knocking him unconscious, and before the other could scream, I smacked the end of the gun down into his temple as well. Before I could get up though, I heard a voice from the front door. ”Why don’t you join us Mr. Brooks, and perhaps we can leave your nice Momma alone?”
I looked up, there was nowhere to go, and four men with guns had them all aimed in my direction. I tossed my guns to the side and raised my hands in the air as two of them grabbed me while the other two kept watch to make sure I did nothing. They pulled me inside and sat my mother and I on the couch side by side.
I looked up at the man, he was older, in his forties, and had a bit of gray stubble on his beard. He looked down at me and shook his head. ”Did you think you were going to get away with what you did? Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences for your actions boy!?”
He reached down and grabbed me by the face. ”DID YOU!?”
I pulled my face away and spit in his face. He wiped it away and rubbed his hand on my shoulder. ”A fighter...I can admire that. Oh, and a Momma’s Boy. Don’t worry son...we never intended to harm your momma. We do however plan to harm you.”
”NO! NOT MY BABY SIR! DON’T YOU HURT HIM!”
”SHUT UP!”
She was scared, and her stance was to back off. The man leaned forward and he was so close to my mother she could smell the menthol cigarette on his breath. ”Your baby did some bad things momma. You obviously didn’t teach him discipline and so now, that’s what Mr. Shane is going to have to do. So know this...if you call anyone, or tell anyone what we’ve done, or that we’ve taken your son...you might as well tell them he’s a deadman. If I hear sirens or see flashing lights as we drive out of this damn city...HE’S DEAD! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!?”
I struggled but was held down by the two guys standing over me. My mother was shaken to her core and could only nod as streams of tears flowed down her face. ”Good.”
He turned to the thugs on either side of me. ”Let’s go.”
My mother was crying as they dragged me to one of the SUVs outside, shoving me in. We pulled off and I could see her run out the door after us, but there was nothing she could do...nothing I could do.
We’ve all been there before, yes, even the man who will not only call himself “Destined for Greatness”, but the man who after Night of the Immortals, after the ladder match, will be known to the world as the “Joker in the Pack”...Derek Brooks.
As the scene opens, you sit on the edge of your seat in anticipation, wondering what it is he’ll say not only about the match, but about his opponents as well.
There’s also a select few of you peeking over at your girlfriend out of the corner of your eye wondering how much she’s going to enjoy it.
The scene fades in and the man who’s going to win at Night of the Immortals is standing beside the prop he will use to ascend to those lofty heights, staring up in the air. He slowly turns toward the camera, pointing to where it is he was gazing moments earlier.
It’s a long, long climb to the top. Some people, those gifted with a name, or perhaps money to pay their way forward are able to make said climb a bit faster than the rest.
The rest of us?
He grabs hold of the ladder and takes a step up.
The rest of us are forced to climb each and every rung, one day at a time, doing what it is we need to do to get by the person just ahead of us. It’s the reason for this match. Check this…
He takes a deep breath and looks dead seriously into the camera.
Now pay attention you A.D.D. specialists, for this doesn’t happen often, but the man destined for greatness is about to put on a show in the name of humility.
He resets his manner, rubbing his hand over his head and face, not once, but twice. He takes another deep breath.
Okay, here it goes. I know my name is Derek Brooks, and I’m going to break this little persona for a moment to tell you all that the fact that I haven’t been around on a consistent basis is not a missed idea to me. It’s completely real, and unfortunately for those who look up to me, they’ve had to find other ways to find me.
He throws his hands in front of himself. The wave of air rushes across the scene in front of him, the force enough to rattle the leaves in front of him.
That...ENDS...NOW!
He points down in front of himself as if he were Superman cracking the ground beneath him with a single fist.
No more going off to Hollywood for this smiling must see character. No! Now, after Sunday, when I win the Joker In The Pack, this man can be seen one place, on one station, in your living room, whooping that ass and taking the names of all the rest on his way to the greatness he is so destined for. Consider this my designation, my indication, and my declaration that this sum bitch in front of you is here in the IWF, and the sporadic appearances are set to become a thing of the past because after all...once I win Joker in the Pack, and then go on to face whatever hermit Irishman there is holding the championship, or goody goody doing his best to live by his moral code, it simply won’t matter because greatness isn’t just coming gentlemen...GREATNESS...IS...HERE!
He ascends another step on the ladder.
So let’s talk about this coming show shall we?
LIIIIIIIIIIVE FROM COLUMBUS, OHIO! THE HORSESHOOOOOE! The home of the Ohio State Buckeyes! There’s a ladder match, a flippy midget, a former Man of Steel, a pitbull from the A-T-L and a couple of wannabes whose best bet is they hit each other with a ladder and save themselves the embarrassment of actually having to compete...and then there’s me...the man who will win...because it is destined to happen.
Another step up the ladder.
So let’s talk about those two shall we? The Lost Boys is it? One question...could you stay lost? Like, farther away? The two of you run your mouths like you’re something special, but in the end, you’re a couple of guys who can’t cut it on your own, so you thought that if you stuck your fists together and said something along the lines of “Assclowns unite!” you might suddenly become relevant.
Hell, I come around once a month and have made more of an impact than either of you have made in your entire lives, and that includes the stretch marks you gave your mother during birth that she probably still hasn’t gotten rid of.
I’m sure you’ll yap, and you’ll claw, and you might even get lucky and climb this ladder to the promise land, but know this you punkass bitches...Derek Brooks will always be there to send you back down, plummeting to the mat below, lying amongst the waste that is the IWF bottom dwellers...where you belong while the meaningful stars like myself continue our ascent to greatness.
He takes another step up.
And then there’s Ryan Shane...where the hell have you been? The last time I remember your gremlin lookin ass, you actually beat me in a match...then disappeared. You were the one that everyone praised in the back. You had the skill and you’d occasionally flash some brilliance on a microphone, but just like most who are praised and featured, you couldn’t handle the pressure. You couldn’t handle the grind of the IWF and therefore you left.
You didn’t just leave Ryan, you took your ball and you went home.
He puts his hand into his chest.
Now I’m not going to sit here and criticize you for leaving, Hell, God knows I’ve been off and on television more times than you’ve had to pull your penis out of a four foot tall hooker because that’s about the jist of what your bitch ass can get, and for the love of God, you’d better pull out every single time, because if you crossbreed with a little person in the guise of a hooker, we will legitimately see the first troll baby crawling on God’s green earth; but the what I will criticize you for is taking legitimate talent and letting it go to waste. See, that’s where you and I differ. You were one of those people who was able to shoot up the ladder. You had the Man of Steel Title, and you did nothing to capitalize that, and for that reason, I plan on taking a ladder and shoving it straight up your ass!
Another two steps up, another two steps closer to greatness.
I’m so close to the top, I can taste it. Do you know what I mean?
He turns to the camera.
Will?
Yeah! Will God Damn Fenell! The leftover badass of the Redneck Renegades. The man who talks the talk like few can, myself excluded of course, but when it comes to walking the walk...he falls...well...a little short.
I mean, kudos brother for fighting on after your partner went down at the hands of those Lost Idiots, but honestly dude, what’s the point in you being in the match at Night of the Immortals? Did you lose a bet? Did you need some money and a payday from the biggest show of the year was the only thing that could get you over the hump so you begged and pleaded to get on the show?
Do you even understand exactly what it is you’re in for this Sunday Night at the Horseshoe!?
You’re trying for something, the same as the rest of us, something that means so damn much...a shot at immortality. Now I’m not talking about that fake crap in a movie, or the bullshit Angel Blake spews on about...I’m talking about the chance to write your name in the history books, become the Joker In The Pack and pretty much guarantee yourself the best shot at a championship you’ll ever get.
I could be wrong Will...that seems a bit too big of a stage for you...I don’t think you can handle it…
His tone burst into a scream as his passion shows through every pore in his skin.
BUT FEAR NOT!
I’m destined for greatness in case you haven’t heard, and I would be absolutely ecstatic to take that burden off your shoulders. So here’s what you do Will...you show up, you put on a good little show, and you walk out with your head held high knowing you tried oh so hard...but like the rest of the time...you just couldn’t measure up.
He takes another two steps up and is now standing at the top rung of the ladder.
This is where you like it...isn’t it Sir Flipsalot?
I know of you, I’d be stupid not to. You, Devlin Rain are the man who won the Cruiserweight Invitational. You went through all the rest and you flipped your way into glory, and who knows, you might just do it again at Night of the Immortals.
He shrugs his shoulders.
Then again, maybe what happened against Spike Kane will happen again. You’ll get built up with anticipation, and like a drunk teenager, not that I condone underage drinking BUT, like a drunk teenager the night of prom, you’ll just be a bit...premature.
You’ll stand up here on top of the ladder, and you’ll get overzealous looking down at some fallen opponents, perhaps even me, and you’ll look out to the crowd and they’ll cheer you on as you look down again and decide…”This is my moment.”
No, not your moment to become the Joker In The Pack, your moment to have replayed over and over again each year before the big event. You’ll leap through the air and crash through all the opponents, and the crowd will cheer, and they’ll be shocked, and they’ll probably chant “This is awesome.” You’ll feel bold, hurt, but in the end elated with the response.
Then you’ll realize...yeah, it was awesome for a moment, but it was stupid in another as someone else, while you’re too hurt to stand, reaches up and grabs the contract.
You’re a daredevil Devlin...but the fact of the matter is, do you have it up here…
He points to his head.
To know what’s awesome for a moment, and what can last a lifetime?
He swings his leg over the ladder and sits atop the metal contraption with a smile on his face.
This...this is where I belong. This is where the people want me to be. This is where...destiny...wants me to be. I’ll punch teeth out of throats, punch people in their faces, and stick my boot so far up asses I’ll use two of you to walk, and I’ll climb that ladder in the center of the ring. I’ll reach up and not only grab the contract, but the fabled brass ring. I will prove my destiny to be true, and there’s not a damn thing the rest of you can do to stop me.
Try as you will, you’ll only be preventing the inevitable.
Then...when I win...it will indeed be time to fulfill MY destiny.
The scene zooms in on his eyes, concentrated, intent, and then, like the snap of the fingers...darkness.
“Things Just Got Serious - Part 2”
Last you saw, my mother was in danger and my truck had been damaged beyond repair. I was trying to keep my cool while asking one of my co-workers for a ride home. I didn’t want him to know what was going on, and I didn’t want the rest to know either.
This was my fight...not theirs.
We pulled up on the street leading up to my mother’s cul-de-sac, and I saw some black trucks wrapped around. ”What’s going on up there Derek?”
I narrowed my gaze and studied the situation. ”Pull over up here. I’ll walk up.”
He did as asked. ”Are you sure man? I can pull you up to the house.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. ”I appreciate it bud. I want to see what’s going on. Besides, you’d be making me lose my street cred if I rolled up in the passenger seat.”
He shook his head and then nodded. I got out of the car and he pulled off as I slowly made my way up to the driveway, peeking over the gravel area to see two guys standing outside my mother’s front door. Little did they know, there was another way in. I walked down the street in the opposite direction and cut around the fence, walking up the sides of yards, blocked off by privacy fences, not allowing them to see the landscape all around them. I came up to the fence that was mine, there was a gate that I had built in, knowing that this was a possibility. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but in the end...I knew...with Shane, anything was possible. I opened the gate and snuck in around the shed in back, going inside, knowing I would need an equalizer.
I wasn’t one for guns, but when the time came, I knew the numbers wouldn’t be in my favor.
I stepped into the shed, leaving it open a crack for some light, and I moved a couple of crates, finally getting to the bottom and opening a compartment I had dug in under the shed. I reached in and pulled out four pistols and a belt, wrapping it around my body, holstering two of them while tucking the other in my waistband, and cocking the other back, ready to do what needed to be done.
From the shed, I crept around the bushes and other gardens, doing my best to stay out of sight, making my way to the side of the house. I ducked under the front window and whisked around the corner aiming two guns at both men before they could even move. ”Get over here.”
The two looked at one another and held their hands up. ”Toss your guns into the yard, nice and easy. Make a move and you won’t have a kneecap.”
The two did as told and slowly walked in my direction before starting a full on charge. With my pistols silenced, I shot at both of their legs, and they both collapsed, writhing in pain. I ran up, planting a boot into the side of one, knocking him unconscious, and before the other could scream, I smacked the end of the gun down into his temple as well. Before I could get up though, I heard a voice from the front door. ”Why don’t you join us Mr. Brooks, and perhaps we can leave your nice Momma alone?”
I looked up, there was nowhere to go, and four men with guns had them all aimed in my direction. I tossed my guns to the side and raised my hands in the air as two of them grabbed me while the other two kept watch to make sure I did nothing. They pulled me inside and sat my mother and I on the couch side by side.
I looked up at the man, he was older, in his forties, and had a bit of gray stubble on his beard. He looked down at me and shook his head. ”Did you think you were going to get away with what you did? Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences for your actions boy!?”
He reached down and grabbed me by the face. ”DID YOU!?”
I pulled my face away and spit in his face. He wiped it away and rubbed his hand on my shoulder. ”A fighter...I can admire that. Oh, and a Momma’s Boy. Don’t worry son...we never intended to harm your momma. We do however plan to harm you.”
”NO! NOT MY BABY SIR! DON’T YOU HURT HIM!”
”SHUT UP!”
She was scared, and her stance was to back off. The man leaned forward and he was so close to my mother she could smell the menthol cigarette on his breath. ”Your baby did some bad things momma. You obviously didn’t teach him discipline and so now, that’s what Mr. Shane is going to have to do. So know this...if you call anyone, or tell anyone what we’ve done, or that we’ve taken your son...you might as well tell them he’s a deadman. If I hear sirens or see flashing lights as we drive out of this damn city...HE’S DEAD! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!?”
I struggled but was held down by the two guys standing over me. My mother was shaken to her core and could only nod as streams of tears flowed down her face. ”Good.”
He turned to the thugs on either side of me. ”Let’s go.”
My mother was crying as they dragged me to one of the SUVs outside, shoving me in. We pulled off and I could see her run out the door after us, but there was nothing she could do...nothing I could do.
Well howdy there pardner.