View Full Version : PHILADELPHIA: Irish Red vs. Timmy Windham

10-31-05, 09:53 AM
The leader of the MidWest Mafia tangles with the Muppet Kid.

11-03-05, 01:14 AM
(FADEIN: Timmy Windham slumped to his feet, back resting up against the security gate of Hornet's Greensboro mansion. Opened knife carelessly twisting in his right hand.)

TIMMY WINDHAM: Everything's fashionable at some point in time, Red. Pleasure fetches a higher price covered in blood. Pandora's box has been opened, and it wasn't you. You'll rest easy, knowing, it wasn't you.

The shadows I bled for, the men I carved like ****ing Halloween pumpkin and left for dead in days gone by, to be admired, and rot, balance the books...they make the show today. The men who conspired to bury Timmy Windham are the draws in this business...the names, pussies and daydreamers maturbate to all night, when the curtains are closed, and nobody can hear them entertain the foolish thoughts kicking around in their heads, weightless and trite, the finish too good to be true.

Mike Randalls, Troy Windham, and Mark...Hornet...Dan Ryan. They cherry picked from the business, bled it dry with their power and left nothing in their wake. Yet, there's a new son of a ***** starting tonight in some suck ass Southern town who wants wear that mask, and be a slave to their gold.

When misogyny is a movement, and sincere flattery a tired notion like apple pie, where do we go, Red? What's one to do, when he's seen the sin, and decay of their ambition?

Don't let yourself be misled.

Survival is the game.

Last Man Standing wins.

Bastards I toyed with like a ****ing string of yarn, pulled the ladder up, leaving Timmy Windham to his own.

Maybe, Red, I just played the game wrong.

I've grown. There's a measure of truth in that.

I've lost the taste of my superior's blood, and want it back.

I've taken a name that was given to me on a whim. Venegance is a great lover, if you can charm her, Red.

I am the Last Windham Standing.

It's my game today.

There are legacies left to destroy, self-fullfilling prophicies to create.

I fear no one.

At least, that's what he said.


11-03-05, 09:37 PM
Irishred is seen in the basement office of his bar "IRISHRED'S" in Yankton, South Dakota. An Allman Brothers CD plays in the background. Irishred sits in his grandfathers rocking chair smoking a Garcia and Vega cigar and drinking a cup of coffee. He begins to speak in his calm deep bass voice. He never looks at the camera

Another venue for me to make my mark in. An old friend that called and asked me to compete. A new set of foes to vanquish. A new arena to bleed in. New scars waiting to be made. Respect to be garnered. Fans to leave in awe. Nightmares to create. A title to win...

This is why I have come to this tourney Timmy.

Irishred puts out his cigar and looks up at the camera. He has a cocky smirk on his face.

I love the way you threw out some big names to try and impress me. Let me match you there spanky. Dan Ryan, Cross, Beast, Housefly, Hida Yakamo, The Spoiler, Bobby R, Paco the Wetback...I have battled them all. I have taken all these men had to offer. I gave each of these men the matches of their lives.

You are facing the one true shooter in professional wrestling Timmy. You are about to enter that ring against a man who lives and breathes this violent lifestyle. You are going to go one on one with a man who knows no limits.

Do you really have what it takes?

I live on a cocktail of painkillers and vitamins thanks to this life. I have aches that never go away. I have a road map of scars covering my body that tell a long tale of pain, blood, sacrifice and devotion to violence.

Nothing you say or do will surprise me. I have seen it all before. Whether MBE, UCW or A1E I have been there and done that. Back alley mugging matches, flaming fire escapes, steel cages, ladder matches, bar room brawls...I have survived them all.

I created the MidWest Mafia. We are the measuring stick for every clique that has followed us. We make our own rules. Men of honor and grit choose to follow me because of who I am and what I stand for.

If you haven't gotten it yet Timmy I am that bad man that your mommy and teachers warned you about when you were in school. I am the man that wrestlers fear facing because I will go that extra step and try to end your career. I am the man that fans stand in line to see because that night could be the one time that I snap and take a life or do something so unorthodox that I lose my own.

Ask around Timmy.

Realize who you are facing before you carry on about blood and Pandora's box.

You don't know me; but you will respect me.

This will not be pretty. This will not be a five star mat wrestling classic. But this match will be great because I owe it to this business to make it so. I will drag you from the mediocrity you wallow in and for one shining moment make you realize that violence is beauty and I am it's master artist.

Irishred turns away from the camera and walks towards the steps leading up to his bar.

11-04-05, 09:07 PM
(FADEIN: Timmy Windham strolling through Hornet's Master bedroom with a melcahony look on his face.)

TIMMY WINDHAM:My mother warned me of nothing.

My father, Mickey, taught me of liars, and honor within how theatrical you extract revenge. It was, Red, the solitary lesson I learned from him. He wasn’t a great man, but anold fool, a pawn in a game he could never understand. But, I used him as I was used. In the end, I was the bed he made. And lie he did.

I don’t name drop to impress. Why the **** would I charm you? We’re not meeting at a diner for a bite. No, I’m not one to waste time impressing a man I’m hours from beating to ****. Lacks the appropriate amount of romance, I think.

We’ve travled the world twice over, yet apparently would struggle to spell the other’s name. I’m sure you’ve made piles of money, and spent it well. I’m sure you’re a name to a section of humanity, that you kiss your scares before you go to bed, and could never imagine doing anything else.

Can’t say whether there’s places in heaven for men like you, Red, but as an artist, satisfaction with your body of work is all you can ask. Don't let this lose deter you from happiness, and love.

This life is beautiful in it’s shameful, disgusting way. Why show weakness and numb the pain? As a child, nobody marked my growth with a notch in a closet wall. Troy, and Mark...Their success, their fame…took them away. Brothers, who grew apart.

Here I come, kicking my feet, tugging at the hip of my jeans, running, begging them to stop so I might catch up.

I’ll cherish measuring myself against you Red. Punish me. Make your name on me. Sacrifice me as Abraham was ready to violate Isaac for his own personal, and spiritual gain. These little destructive memories, the morning after when I’m sure to fall to my feet and cry agony, are the lifelines so that I might never have to play alone, again.

Timmy Windam’s growing up to be the Last Windham Standing.

What I have to show you will be new to myself. Your over-confidence means ****. My growth from Muppet to man happens with no contribution from yourself.

I’ve already reckoned that you’re Kong. A King of blood, and hate.

But, Red, eventually the little planes win.


11-04-05, 11:59 PM
Irishred sits in his locker room in his ring gear of blue jeans and cowboy boots. He is taping his fists and wrists. When he finishes he tears off one last piece and turning his wedding band backwards so the diamonds face in he covers the band with athletic tape.

Timmy, Timmy, Timmy. What are we going to do with you? Trying so hard to live up to a family name. Trying so hard not to be that little fool that fell out of a ceiling. I wish I gave a rats ass. But I'm not here to be your Dr. Phil. I'm here to kick your ass.

History is not written Timmy. History is made with actions. History is grabbed by the throat and throttled by men like me. History sits in awe of men of action like myself.

You will be a footnote while chapters will be written about me.

Don't make the mistake that this is a personal issue Timmy. It's not. I don't know you that well. You haven't made a fatal error and disrespected me. You haven't stepped over the line. Don't do that Timmy. Don't ever make that mistake.

This is just business. This is just work. This is just my life.

Our match is just another day of punching the clock for me. You are just another of the jumbled mass of names that someday...maybe too soon...my punch drunk mind won't allow me to remember.

But tonight you are my foe. Tonight you step through those ring ropes and try in vain to live up to a family name.

Tonight you fail again.

I wish you luck on your quest Timmy I really do.

But realize this...it won't happen tonight. It won't happen against me. You see I refuse to lose to Tickle Me Elmo.

I just won't be that guy.

Irishred rises and kisses his fingertips. He touches his fingers to a picture of his bride hanging in his locker. He then drops to his knees in prayer.