Press "Enter" to skip to content

ABC, Part 2

Read this first.

I spent a while pondering this one during my vacation, and I think the system is a modified Feng Shui with revamped templates. Not as many hit points, to get it more gritty — possibly even a wound system. Steal the madness meters from Unknown Armies and turn them into corruption meters and you’re good to go.

Huey Long fucked it all up. That’s what they teach in school in 1955, at least everywhere outside the Caribbean States of America. He led Louisiana and Florida out of the United States in 1934, joined by Cuba, the Yucatan Peninsula, and a bunch of little Caribbean islands. There was a whole bunch of diplomatic wrangling after that, but before things got violent, the Japanese launched an attack on Pearl Harbor — December 7th, 1936. They say the Japanese got eager because of the problems with Huey, and it might never have happened otherwise.

Huey promptly declared war on Japan in his famous Infamy Speech. “Me and Franklin Roosevelt have our differences, but when you get right down to it it’s mostly that I had the nerve to stick up for the little man and he didn’t. That’s not so big a difference in my book, and there are things that are a bit more important than a little quarrel like the one we’ve got going here.

“What happened out there in Hawaii, that’s one of those things if I ever saw one. I don’t think anyone would dispute that. And when the sun rises over a day of infamy, well, what’s a man got to do? He’s got to stand by his neighbors! He’s got to stand by his brothers! And he’s got to stand by his friends! Hell, it’s not Roosevelt’s job to make nice to me, it’s my job to prove to him and the entire United States that me and Louisiana didn’t mean any of them any harm.

“And by God, I can’t think of a better way to do it than to give the Japs the bloodiest nose this Earth ever did see.”

Huey did his best to do just that, too. And how could the United States go to war on him after he sent his Louisiana Swamp Rats into every single island hellhole between San Francisco and Tokyo? Smiling bastard.

Meanwhile, he’s making sure South America is his private preserve. If you read the Louisiana Times-Picayune, it says that Huey and his boys were fighting a quiet little war of their own against some South American criminal mastermind. People who know better say that was just a cover. Huey was messing with things he should have left well enough alone. Aztec mummies and atomic zombies and the like. Pretty soon all kinds of things started to come creeping over the border between Tijuana and San Diego.

Yeah, Hollywood’s a pit of sleaze in 1955. But it wouldn’t be that way if it wasn’t for Huey Long. It’d be a better place. Everyone knows that.

Now, you know me. I wrestle every Wednesday and Saturday night at the Olympic Auditorium. They boo me and that’s all right. In a way it makes me feel like I’m doing my part for my crippled country, because I’m helping you feel proud for the good guys who they cheer. Maybe the same thing goes for the masks from Mexico. Maybe not — I’m never sure with them, never sure what they’re thinking. Never sure if I’m getting too close to the darkness that Huey Long unleashed when I tag with those guys.

Doesn’t stop me from doing it, though. Inside and outside — well, let’s not talk about outside the ring. Not until some other things happen. Maybe someone ran their mouth a bit too much and you think you know a bit about me and that man-sized leech they found in Marilyn Monroe’s swimming pool. Lemme tell you kid, you don’t know shit until you’ve been out there. So don’t presume, and we’ll get along.

Ring bell is in 15 minutes. You’re gonna beat the crap out of me for about five minutes, then I’m going to make you look bad for ten minutes. You get a comeback, but don’t waste your finisher on it because I’m booked to win this match. I’ll cheat. You’ll notice. We keep this up for a couple of weeks until you decide you have to cheat to win, and then you’re a heel like me.

That’s a compliment, kid. We’re the ones who keep things clean outside the ring. Or less dirty, anyway.

Hope you’re up to it.

One Comment

  1. Bryant and Robotnik have done it again. Another insanely imaginative idea. Wrestlers by day. Crime Fighters by night. In 1950’s…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.