Back to the story, he stands above me and raises his arms in the air trying to get some kind of reaction of the now buzzed Robert E Lee Trailer Park inhabitants. As the orchestrator of weapons thus far in this fisticuff, Swingblade drops the rock and grabs at the closest foreign object to him -- which just so happens to be a muffler that had more than likely been disconnected from one of the rednecks' Chevrolet. It slams with harsh impact in to my shoulder area.
"****!!!", I shout. There is no question that having a tail pipe slammed on your collar bone is going to cause some form of pain. Rolling over, I try to favor the pain and potentially take my mind off of the actual agony that has been caused. "Son of a bitch that hurt!"
Swingblade: "HAAAAHHHHH!"
He attempts it again... this time he misses it. I roll out of the way just in time for the muffler to loudly connect with the gravel. Moving as fast as I can to eliminate the situation that I'm in, I sweep his legs from under him... which brings him down to my level. Doing what it takes is the epitome of what a winner is. And I utilize that aspect. I use my head to slam in to the bridge of his nose to make him a bit more woozy than before. Just to gain some kind of advantage...
Swingblade: "What the heck!? Did you just headbutt me!? I think my nose is broken!"
Using my elbow to regain my composure, I lift myself off of the ground and in turn, decide to give Swingo a taste of his own medicine. I grab the closest weapon to me -- which is a broken beer bottle that was apparently thrown at us when I had the SHOW wrassler in the fujiwara armbar. I have evil thoughts. Evil thoughts means bad things for my opponent... I cram the remainder of the beer bottle in to his face, shattering it more-so. The glass pertrudes his cheeks and forehead.
Swingblade: "AHHHH! That has to be illegal! Seriously! Is he allowed to do that!?"
I smirk. "Stop complaining, slut."
It's true. I'm one of those guys that when I get a good idea, my tongue instantly attatches it's self to my cheek, and my teeth become adhesive when in contact with my bottom lip. I power walk towards the middle area of trailer's number one and two. There, I find the best weapon that can possibly be used in a match like this, and in this environment. The uncanny demon that is known as a shotgun. **** this guy.
"Did you want to play, Swingo?", I question him as I load up the conveniently placed shotgun WITH the shells. Actually, I wouldn't doubt it if Bubba and Tina were having target practice with the squirrels that were scavenging throughout the woods, but that's a different story entirely.
His eyes widen. His whole dimeanor pales. The guy is actually afraid for his life, which only means good things for me. If I'm lucky, he'll tap out after he wets his pants. But by the time I get to him, it isn't the case. He still wants to fight -- which is what I consider a real man. If someone has a gun to your head, why give up your money? Why give away your pride on a silver platter? A man is many things... and one thing a man doesn't do is be afraid of a gun. If someone is going to shoot you, then you are going to be shot. It's as simple as that. So why not try to avoid the situation and fight back? I commend Swingblade for this one... honestly.
He kicks his legs at me, still trying to peel broken glass out of his forehead. The glass in his cheeks fell out loosely. Using the butt end of the shotgun, I wipe his whole diabolical plan to attack me out. It crashes against his chin busting it open more and ultimately rendering him in an unconcious state. Deciding against the whole "shoot Swingblade and claim a victory for the first round" thing, due to possible jail time thus not being able to move on to the second round, I toss the shotgun off to the side -- which is quickly apprehended by it's owner; Bubba.
"Is this what you sick mother ****ers wanted to see?" I question them. They're sadistic, and there's no doubt about it. I wouldn't be shocked in the least bit if they raised to their feet and demanded more. But alas, their drunken state, aside from Bubba who takes a little more to get blitzed, doesn't allow them to make a sound, movement, or even hiccup. They're passed out. "Fine! I'm ending this now!"