HaLF: It's not about weight limits, it's about height limits

[Beeker]

Ahhhh. My first trip to the Mayan Riviera. All inclusive holiday paid for by a successful RPG my friends and I created. No, really. We did. I spent all of February working on the first supplement to the set. It’s a place for gamers to immediately start gaming. With all sorts of crazy wild funky worlds. Don’t believe me? Fine. Go here. Check out [URL="http://www.phreeow.net/wiki/tiki-index.php?page=Dunbar+Subsector"][COLOR="Indigo"][B]the Dunbar Subsector[/B][/COLOR][/URL]. Cool coincident, Maya is playing at this three-star (it was an indy game; we didn’t exactly sell the rights to EA Games or out perform Dungeons and Dragons. Sure it may be more playable than D&D, but it was never going to be more profitable.) Yup, Maya is playing on the Mayan Riviera, either the marketing department here is top notch or Maya’s fallen on really hard times. Oh no! I hate that. Someone left their child alone and now the squalling sprog is trying to buy alcohol from the wet bar. Some parents shouldn’t be allowed to breed. Appears to be kicking up quite the fuss at the wetbar. Likely doesn’t have cranraspberry juice. My niece loves it. It’s tasty AND it’s pink. Two very important things to a 3 year old princess. Geez, where are this kid’s parents? Somebody needs a time out! Well now I’m not going to enjoy the Mexicana Latina Hoochie Mamacito competition until someone shoves a soother in that spoiled brat’s maw. Guess it’s up to me. Besides, I could do with another Dos Equis. I swim over. [I]“What seems to be the problem? Did somebody lose their mommy n’ daddy? Did they? Did they? Maybe some milk too sooth you until we can find you your blue buddy blankey?”[/I] The baby spins around and sneers up at me. [I]“I want a bloody Jack Daniels on the rocks. My parents died 10 years ago in a car crash. And the only blankey I want is the one under that fine looking whore over there.”[/I] Oh… sh!te! [I]“I’m Brains MuthaF*cken McGee, who the f*ck do you think you are?”[/I] Midgets. I f*cken HATE midgets.

[Sons of Kohral]

Haha, yes! Brains McGee! Is the owner of 4C going to make a guest appearance?

[Sonfaro]

:) Yes! Midgets! Yes! - Sonfaro

[Marcel Fromage]

Finally - after all the promptings - Beeker delivers his pint-sized diary! :D

[Rathen4]

this is going to be glorious

[Actarus]

You know, having only provided a minimum of details, and you already have me busting a gut laughing. Looking forward to what you've cooked up here.

[Beeker]

A word of advice. If ever you happen to accidentally call a foul mouthed, cigar chomping midget a baby. And if you let slip about the midget’s parents who happen to have tragically died in the not too distant past. Then by all means buy the midget a drink! Especially if you happen to be staying at an all inclusive resort where the drinks are free, but watered down. Remember midgets can’t hold their liquor nearly as well as real sized people, and they’ll appreciate the not suffering an inquisition when ordering alcohol. Take this free lesson to heart. Because there is nothing scarier than a midget throwing a temper tantrum, unless maybe it’s a midget woman scorned. But that’s pure hypothesis, since I’m pretty sure midgets are like mules, they’re only males. *** That’s how I ending up sitting beside Brains Muthaf*ucken McGee at a wetbar at a three-star resort on the Mayan Riviera. Getting slowly baked (by the sun) and buzzed (by the watered down drinks) while Brains McGee spun out his angry, tragic, JD fueled tale of how he came to own, [I]“The best damn minis company in Mexico!”[/I] [I]“I didn’t know there were midget wrestling promotions in the world. Don’t you work for one of the American promotions? I just assumed you were down here on a holiday.”[/I] [I]“Bloody Eisen and those Gawd Damn Dirty F#cken White Boys. Like to crash Supine TV n’ take a long, steaming wizz all over that trio of traitors. ‘Course the jokes on the jackasses since Greased Piggy and Jelly Belly are the backdoor men for Eisenettes. Where’n the hell didja think their f#cken names came from? The biker look is to cover all the exhaust pipes they ‘clean.’ Couldn’t get outta that hellhole fast enough. Lucky, for all his success, Eisen is a supremely moronic businessman, so I gots me a sweet ass severance package n’ after drinking away the first half of 06 on Eisen’s tab, I spent the last half getting HaLF up and running.”[/I] [I]“What half of a half are you talking about? Do you want a quarter pounder? A quarter bottle of bourbon? You’re an odd lil stunted man. You know that?”[/I] [I]“HaLF! HALF! The gawd be f#cken damned wrestling promotion I opened up in July 2006.”[/I] [I]“Oh… thaaaaat HaLF. Why did you open it up in Northern Mexico?”[/I] [I]“You inbred grease bellied… I wait a second… I just thought this was deep in the south of Texas. Being in Mexico would explain a lot though…”[/I] [I]“My apologies again for calling you a baby, but the Mexicana Latina Hoochie Mama contest is about to start and I’ve already lost the chance to be a judge but I might still get a good seat if I swim over now.”[/I] [I]“How the hell did I end up in Mexico?”[/I] Brains gives his head a shake. [I]“So, do you want the job?”[/I] [I]“What job are you talking about? You’ve not mentioned a thing about job since Pedro behind the bar cracked open the first shot of JD.”[/I] [I]“Job? I f#cken told you about it. We’ve been talking about it ever since. To be the head f#cken booker of the best wrestling promotion in all of Mexico. Screw that, in all the f#cken world! HaLF!”[/I] Brains looks so pleased, and yet so pissed, that I can’t help it. I really can’t. I slip on some water wings and as we raise a toast he overbalances and floats in the pool, I give him a push. Normally this would cause for a spluttering laugh, but I’ve timed it perfectly and the kiddies are just finishing up some family fun before the Mexicana Latina Hoochie Mama contest kicks off with a hands-clasped whirlpool. They conveniently let Brains float in to the middle and I watch for a while as he builds more and more speed as the kids run along the bottom in a manic circle. Finally the kids let go as the centrifugal force pulls them apart. The last I see of Brains, he’s caught on a kiddie-caused whirlpool current and bobbing out around the edge of the jacuzzis. I turn back to Pedro and order "[I]Dos Dos Equis, por favor. Oh, and Pedro, what the hell is a head f#cken booker and is it as illegal as it sounds?”[/I] Pedro shrugs his shoulders, [I]“Cerebos están muy locos.”[/I] Truer words were never spoken. If only I’d heeded (or understood) Pedro’s advice.

[Actarus]

[QUOTE=Beeker;386398] [I]“Bloody Eisen and those Gawd Damn Dirty F#cken White Boys. Like to crash Supine TV n’ take a long, steaming wizz all over that trio of traitors. ‘Course the jokes on the jackasses since [B]Greased Piggy and Jelly Belly are the backdoor men for Eisenettes. Where’n the hell didja think their f#cken names came from? The biker look is to cover all the exhaust pipes the ‘clean.’ [/B]Couldn’t get outta that hellhole fast enough. Lucky, for all his success, Eisen is a supremely moronic businessman, so I gots me a sweet ass severance package n’ after drinking away the first half of 06 on Eisen’s tab, I spent the last half getting HaLF up and running.”[/I] [/QUOTE] Dude...that is SO wrong...but you still got me laughing, so it's all good.

[Beeker]

[QUOTE=Actarus;386489]Dude...that is SO wrong...but you still got me laughing, so it's all good.[/QUOTE] Safe to say, this diary is about as politically incorrect as can be. If you're easily offended, then turn back now. It should also be noted that just because Brains thinks it to be so, doesn't necessarily mean it is. He's a little bit bitter. In case people hadn't clued in yet. It's a subtle shade of bitter.

[Beeker]

[U]A few hours and a few beers later[/U] A sharp stinging pain radiates up from my shin. [I]“Sonuva…,”[/I] I exclaim. [I]“You insufferable prick. How f*cken DARE you. Know what happened to me? They mistook me for a child and took me back to the daycare centre. It stays open until 11pm to allow parents to get properly f*cked up before collecting their squalling brats and maybe have some dirty Mexican shag before being parents again. But no one ever came to pick me up. You know why? Do you? You F*CKEN *******. DO YOU! Because I’m a grown man dammit, running a successful company and owning my own house!”[/I] [I]“Down here it’s called a casa.”[/I] [I]“I finally broke down and had you paged. They said they paged you. Didn’t you hear the announcements? Why didn’t you f*cking come and spring me from that bloody Mexican child labour camp?”[/I] [I]“I heard them. I was working on getting a Margarita.”[/I] [I]“A… a gawddamn Margarita? Margaritas flow like tap water through a tourist here. How in the hell did it take you hours and hours to get a Margarita.”[/I] [I]“Brains, meet Margarita. She finished fourth in the Mexicana Latina Hoochie Mamacito contest.”[/I] I slip my arm around a nubile young Mexicana Mamacito with a fine ass. If Brains still had his cigar he’d have dropped it from his gaping mouth. Another word of advice to the kids out there. When attending a competition based solely on looks, aim for the person who finished just out of the medal standings. First place always brings more baggage than a cocaine-and-paparazzi-addicted Hollywood starlet. Second place ends up feeling a sense of empowerment since they were clearly too hot to actually win and it’s a beauty contest and they’ve got beauty where it counts, on the inside! Third is a tricky proposition. They’re often willing to be ego stroked into seduction but lots of guys see third as the medalist to approach so bring your A game. I blame Gob Bluth. Bastard. Skip ‘Miss Congeniality’ as she’ll believe in ‘love’ and a ‘soul mate’ and ‘getting to really connect with a person.’ Nope, fourth is where to aim. They need the immediate ego boost. Again, I recommend doing this at an all inclusive OR during a college Spring Break. For obvious reasons. After Brains stops trying to catch flies and stops drooling over Margarita’s open-toed heels. My hand suavely slides around her lower back, pausing at the skimpy waistline of her high-cut bikini bottoms. [I]“She earned that t-shirt though, lemme tell ya Brainy Smurf.”[/I] I smile down at the munchkin and before he can snap off a retort pass him a JD on the rocks and a mango margarita for Margarita. I’ve switched to water. Another important tip, pace yourself, a well placed bottle of water does wonders for the awareness and blunting an impending hangover; something Brains never learned. [I]“And you never told us how you escaped the child minding facility.”[/I] Brains grinds his teeth, drains the JD in one and mutters something under his breath. [I]“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, could you speak… up?”[/I] [I]“Jerkwad. I despise you. When… when they put us down for naps after dinner I… I bite the attendant’s ankle and made a run for it. And I’m not a f*cken smurf. Do I look blue to you!”[/I] I signal for another round for Brains. [I]“Not at all, you look more sun-burnt red. You’re quite literally an ankle-biter AND a skin-kicker. You’re just a walking stereotype, aren’t you?”[/I] [I]“I’m about to a f*cken sh*t kicker if you don’t quit your insults.”[/I] Brains drains his second tumbler of Jack Daniels in about as many minutes and glares up into my eyes. [I]“Listen asscrack, I’m in a pinch and you’re the best of a very shallow pool. We’ve already run one show this year without a booker. I’ll get you the results but I need a new booker. And you’re about as good as I can find in this bloody cesspool.”[/I] [I]“What’s a booker? Is it like a book deal? Because I’ve been working on some various stories and books. I’d totally be down in having them translated into Spanish.”[/I] [I]“A booker. Booker? BOOKER! The guy who runs a wrestling show. Makes up the storylines and story arcs and who the people love and hate and what sort of gimmicks they use and…,”[/I] Brains takes another spluttering deep breath and searches for the last drops of JD in his glass. [I]“I thought you were some big shot wrestling booker fan from the north.”[/I] Another deep breath. [I]“Listen, we have a show tomorrow, can you at least come. Discounted… half price… of comped tickets! Second row. Fine, fine, front row!”[/I] [I]“No can do. Tomorrow night is Mexican Luau Night. No way am I missing that.”[/I] [I]“Mexican Luau? That doesn’t make a sh*t of sense!”[/I] [I]“I don’t care. Hot chicks. Grass skirts. Limitless comedy potential. Ever heard two coconut-bra wearing women hug? No way am I passing that up for sweaty male midgets in spandex.”[/I] [I]“I. Hate. You.”[/I] Good thing about drunken midgets, when they piss you off by a pool, one shove and their in the deep end, especially since any end is the deep end. [B]Sploosh![/B] Midgets make good cannonballers. I return my attention to Margarita, as I lead her back to my room she whispers, [I]“Cerebos están muy locos.”[/I] I really wish I knew then the Spanish I know now.

[shipshirt]

Ha, nice to see you finally get this going!

[CubsFan915]

A Beeker dynasty? Insta-subscribe.

[Beeker]

[B]TEQUILA![/B] God I hate that song. [B]TEQUILA![/B] Know what I hate more than that song? That song in four different languages, fourteen times over the course of one drunken stumble of an evening out. [B]TEQUILA![/B] I loathe that drink too! [B]TEQUILA![/B] I think what I hate most of all is that I know I’m going to do the whole damn thing again. Tonight. And every night until I leave the Mayan Riviera in a few days. [B]TEQ~![/B] Ah, sweet unconsciousness… *** I awake a few hours late, the sun scorches down from high overhead. It must be sometime past noon. Seems about enough time for another cerveza. Sometimes, the pelo del perro is the only way to go. Then bring the aqua. Damn, I’m nearly fluent in this Spanglish language! [I]“Senor Beeker. Senor Beeker.”[/I] [I]“Ola Pedro!”[/I] (They’re all called Pedro aren’t they? Doesn’t matter, they all seem to respond to Pedro.) Pedro slides an oversized envelope across the desk to me; I scoop it up and take it out to the pool to try to figure out who sent me a grungy looking manila envelope. It takes me a while to open the envelope, mainly due to the cobwebs infesting my brain and constant distractions offered up by tourists and locals alike. How long did that Mexican Luau last? ‘Too long,’ my liver tells me. My liver always lies to me though. Pathological liar! Ah, Margarita, I need to find a new one now. The Mexican women, more potent than the cerveza and fierier than the afternoon sand. Hey! I got the envelope open! What in the hell is a Brains McGee and why did he send me this indecipherable set of scribbles. It looks like a mathematic equation for autistic, gimpy chimps. I suspect the chimps would have more legible handwriting and understand at least he concept of grammar. Beeker ya botard! HEres de re-sluts from thisen yere. Brians! (Yes, it’s true, he misspelled his own moniker. Moron!) [COLOR="Red"][b][U]HaLF: We Don’ Need No Steenkin’ Booker[/U][/b][/COLOR] [U]Date:[/U] Thursday, Week 2 of January, 2007 (This Adamian Calendar is very odd.) [U]Held:[/U] Bar Juarez, Northern Mexico [U]Attendance:[/U] 300 (Sold out bitch!) Brains (auth angle) vs. Will – 5 - E Pandito/Mufasa – 15 min – D – Muffy wins with the Simba Second Justice! Jock rants – 3 minutes – E Jock/Relampagito – 8 – E+ - Jock wins by Crashing Up! Why the Riot (Shim vs. Miya) – 17 – E+ draw Timmy challenges Kowled - 4 – D Kudo/Timmy – 21 - C- - Timmy goes over with the Smoothed Over Ead hype (on Will) – 3 - D Will/Ead – 14 min – D – Will wins. Dammit, forgot to put the title on the line. Or what Will used. [B]Overall: D[/B] [b][COLOR="DarkRed"][U]HaLF: St. Valentino is still dead[/U][/COLOR][/b] [U]Date:[/U] Saturday, Week 2 of February, 2007 [U]Held:[/U] Bar Juarez, Northern Mexico [U]Attendance:[/U] 300 (back to back sell outs, ya bastard!) (angle) Brains makes Will fight Hal; E; 3 min (match) Jock over Ni-Lo by Crashing Up; D-; 6 (int) Jock taunts Shim; D; 4 (match) Mufasa over Cal and Padre; Padre pinned after a Simba Second Justice; D-; 11 (int) The Riot target Timmy; E+; 3 (match) The Riot over Ant & Lepp; Shim submitted Lepp with an ARMbar!; E+; 11 (match) Timmy drew Kudo; Double DQ; D+; 9 (rant) Timmy hates Kudo; D; 5 (int) Soul taunts Wii; D+; 4 (match) Soul over Wii with some sort of cheating; D+; 13 (match) Will over Hal via Power of Will; D-; 10 [B]Overall: D-[/B] Nott as bester as Jan, but still good, sold out, more workers used. *** I don’t even know who those people are and Brains (or Brians) shorthand isn’t helping things out at all. Sounds like he’s a got a fun, potential success story going if it doesn’t f*ck it up. Having met Brains once, it’s safe to say I’m going to bet heavily on him f*cking it up. Since for some reason he doesn’t have a booker anymore. No idea what that’s about. Oh well. Doesn’t sound like a missed much, especially since I’m not overly in to wrestling and at the Mexican Luau I got to eat burritos and roast pig. Although poi does not mix well with salsa. And got to hear not one but TWO coconut bikini top hugs. [B]**CLONK!**[/B] Gotta love it! Life is good. Too bad I’ve only got a half-week left on this all inclusive. *** [quote=OCC: Beeker] Fear not readers, when (if) Beeker the character takes over the booking reins of HaLF the recaps will be in a bit more detail. There is a reason this is making about as much sense as an ADeezy backstory. :D PS: Be nice to ADeezy. His writing is like a McDonald's burger at 3am after a night on the drink. You know you'll regret it later but at the time it is a craving that cannot be denied![/quote]

[Beeker]

With only a couple days left in Mexico I figured it would be best to simply avoid Brains, but damn those midgets are stealthy, it doesn’t help that they’re impossible to see them stalking someone until they’ve attached themselves like a limpet to an unsuspecting leg. Shaking a midget if off isn’t quite the same as getting a pitbull to relax its jaws, more like being tongued by an anteater. And no, I’m not going into the details on how I know what it’s like to be tongued by an anteater. On this particular occasion I’m sprawled out on the white sand beach, debating between windsurfing and bikini inspecting when a crowd of people; locals and tourists alike point at the shallows and try to figure out the odd scene playing out in the waves. One of the locals, (Pedro I suspect,) excitedly calls out [I][B]“Tiburón! Tiburón!”[/B][/I] The tell-tale triangle fin juts up from the water, cutting through the water towards shore with a steady gait. People start to surge from the water as tiburón translates quickly into ‘Shark! Shark!’ Before more than a handful of people can get out of the water another, softer-edged fin cuts quickly through the water. Some other Pedro calls out even more excitedly, [I][B]“Chaac! Chaac el Delfín!”[/B][/I] Chaac is a bit of a celebrity around these resorts, a wild dolphin who adopted this stretch of white sand beach as its own fiefdom. A benevolent dolphin, who in exchange for the occasional bits of fresh fish permits the locals to make a living off Chaac (named after the Mayan Rain God) and often protects the gringos who swim out too far or wander out into the strong currents. In addition it appears that Chaac doesn’t like interlopers and this shark qualifies as an unwelcome visitor. At least at first. Quickly Chaac nose-butts the shark and the shark flips awkwardly and ugly from the sea. Well, the shark fin flips from the salt water and it’s readily apparent to everyone on the beach that the shark is actually a midget. Even from this distance I can tell from the biker-bathing cap and the cigar stump that flies from his mouth that the shark is none other than Brains McGee. Locals and visitors alike form a loose football crowd as they start to sing and chant and serenade the delfín to victory over the despicable shark. [I]“Chaaaaaaaaac! Chaaaaaaaaac! Bash el tiburón on the rocks!”[/I] Hey, it was an instantaneous cheer. I thought it was great. Not English Premier League quality but better than anything in Canada or America. After a fun few minutes of frolicking for Chaac it appears el delfín grows bored of playing flip the waterlogged midget and with a stunning bottle nose twists deposits a battered Brains in the surf with a stunning 900 tope con hilo. With a mighty sigh I pull the spluttering Brains out of the water with one hand and signal to Pedro (at the bar) to get a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels. I plunk the sodden and bruised Brains down on a stool and pull up a stool beside him. I give him some time, and about a quarter bottle of JD, before he composes himself enough to address me. Magically a stub of a cigar returns to the corner of his mouth. Lit. Brains starts to launch into what I’m positive will be a profanity laden, bourbon fueled, vile spewing rant against me and likely aquatic life instead a gout of salt water mixed with Jack Daniels erupts onto the sand. I pat the mini-aqua shark on the back as he empties his stomach. Within three seconds of finishing his purge he’s wiped his mouth and emptied the tumbler of Jack Daniels and reaches for a refill. And I thought I could put away the hooch. I hold up my hand to stop him from talking, [I]“Why? Why go to such a ludicrous and dangerous stunt just to get my attention? I’m sure that’s the first time a midget has emulated a shark and swum to shore and it didn’t work out. I read your recap; it was succinct to say the least. But I don’t know any of the wrestlers and I don’t care and I don’t want to be the booker. HaLF’s existed for at least 8 months without me, so why are you so desperate to get me on board? You must have a booker already.”[/I] Brains sighs, a sigh from the depths of his tiny little body and I almost feel sorry for him, at least until the last few bubbles of salt water burble from his lips before he spits into the sand. [I]“I had two great ones, but they’re both abstaining from booking. See, I wanted Timmy Cromwell to be head booker but I was also giving Kowled Kudo head booking duties. It was the only way to lure those two into HaLF at the outset. I f*cken outsmarted myself. How in the f*ck Brains outsmarted Brains is beyond this Brains but that’s what happened. Both want the gawd damn book. Both want the f*cken title. No one wants Will Power to have the belt, except Will. I thought I could keep both the f*cktards happy by playing them off each other, but the pricks bungholed me. Timmy refuses to talk to me and Kudo went over to MPWF and took control of the book for them.”[/I] [I]“Is MPWF a wrestling federation?”[/I] [I]“Yah, Mexican Produce Wrestling F*ckwads or something.”[/I] [I]“Oh man. That would be sweet! Finally a squash wouldn’t have to be a squash!”[/I] [I]“Hey! Skidstain, you been holding out on me, f*cker! That’s wrestling lingo, that is. Douchemark!”[/I] [I]“Sh!te!”[/I] I signal Pedro for something, anything that resembles a single malt Scotch. Brains launches into his spiel, [I]“Aren’t you sick to crapola Eisen splatters on his screen? Or what about Cornell’s death grip on his own federation? Or the repetitive bloodshed of DaVE?”[/I] [I]“Listen McGee, I’ll be blunt with you, I used to watch some wrestling but I haven’t followed it for years. Does that geeky guy with the glasses still have a promotion? He made me laugh. Seemed sorely out of place in the wrestling world though.”[/I] [I]“He left the business and has an MMA company now. Sold Hollyweird to Cornell who renamed it Total Championship Wrestling. Championsh!te if you ask me!”[/I] [I]“I had no intention of asking you.”[/I] Before Brains can interrogate me further about my wrestling knowledge, I’m saved by my cell phone vibrating across the bar. I scoop it up, happy for the distraction. [I]“Hello? Oh… hi mom. Really… that’s great news. Nope… that’s fantastic. I couldn’t be happier. Sure sure… I look forward to see everyone too.”[/I] [I]“Congratulations! Who died?”[/I] [I]“What?”[/I] [I]“How much did they leave you in their will?”[/I] [I]“You horrible, soulless little man! What the f*ck is your malfunction? Why the hell would you assume someone died from that conversation?”[/I] [I]“Isn’t that how it always goes? A phone call leads to an unexpected windfall, usually through a family member dying. Occasionally it’s via lottery. But now you should have enough money to start up your own wrestling promotion or invest heavily in mine!”[/I] [I]“You disgust me. You’re such a degenerate, lowlife, body feeding scumbag that words actually fail me.”[/I] I draw in a deep breath and wish dolphins were carnivorous, although judging by McGee’s body type that would be nothing but a lard and gristle mean. [I]“No one died. No one is sick. If I did come into some money, I most certainly would not start up a wrestling company, but even if I did want to gamble with wrestling there is no way in coldest, bluest day in hell I would ever give you a single, solitary peso you reprehensible hobbit.”[/I] [I]“Geez, who pissed in your continental breakfast?”[/I] [I]“A pint-sized, unemployable biker pixie of a munchkin of a dwarf of a halfling.”[/I] Brains grinds his teeth while I fume into the single malt in front of me, a few minutes pass before Brains breaks the angry silence. [I]“F*ck you! I was trying to be nice. Game on bitch. Poker. Texas Hold ‘em. I win I get your services as head booker for three years.”[/I] [I]“And when I win?”[/I] [I]“Phhhbt! You won’t win. Bookers-to-be never win at this. What don’t you get about this?”[/I] Exactly twenty-eight minutes later. [I] “In addition to the rights to the Brains McGee name, I also get your first and second born children, your collection of cigar stubs, your faux-shark fin and a beret to be named later? Pleasure doing business with you.”[/I] Brains McGee sits dejected at the bar, staring at the ice cubes diluting the last mouthful of his Jack Daniels further, his eyes glazed over and seeing something else far away and long ago as he mutters disbelievingly to himself, his hands, his gods. I slip away from the bar to leave the dolphin-sand-scrubbed-down-to-his-dermis, glowing pink midget to contemplate his fate as the man who he wanted to book his minis revolution saunters off to enjoy a game of shuffleboard with a buxom blonde visitor from Kansas. The midget formerly known as Brains hears as though underwater and from a great distance as Beeker introduces himself, ‘You can call me Beeker, or Brains. I own the rights to both.’ Brains drains the watery remnants of his drink and shoves himself off of his stool. He wanders away across the molten white sand towards his Mexican-made Volkswagen, dragging his mask and snorkel from his ill-executed aquatic invasion of the Mayan Riviera leaving a trail in the sand that may well mark the end of his Mexican Minis revolution.

[Beeker]

[U]10:45am Check out Day[/U] Sun and surf and sin. All in excess. Good thing this vacation only lasted a week. My liver more than anything is looking forward to getting back to the cooler climate of Vancouver. While I seem slightly tanned by local standards when I get back home I’ll likely be a deeper shade of dark. That’s the interesting thing about me; I always end up appearing almost like a local. Now the Hawaiian shirt (lovingly crafted by sebsplex) is a dead give away of my non-local status but other than that I appear almost Latinate. As though I might be from New Mexico or Arizona, the northern halves of those states. [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Beeker1.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Beeker1.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] Heading back to Vancouver means my tan will wash away in minutes since as beautiful as British Columbia is, this is late February so the closest I’ll be to sunlight for the next month is looking at pictures of my Mexican vacation or I can stare at the brightest of the grey clouds. When it isn’t raining. But BC is beautiful, it says so on our license plates, so it MUST be true. Checkout time is 11am and my flight doesn’t leave until 3pm, but delays at airports are ubiquitous the world over, so I head directly there rather than mooch about tourist shops for an hour. Good thing I did too. My bag is checked and I’ve got my carry on, and I’m about to go through the metal detector even though it isn’t plugged in. (True story, when I was flying out of Dakar, Senegal we all had to funnel through metal detectors that weren’t on. Fun times! If it’s good enough for Senegal, it’s good enough for Mexico.) Most people are quickly scanned and patted down, but when I arrive it appears to be a shift change… oddly at 11:27am. I walk through the non-functioning metal detector and as I do so out march these two jokers. [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/JuanDeBolt.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/JuanDeBolt.jpg[/IMG][/URL][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/PacoPiedra.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/PacoPiedra.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] I laugh it off and ignore them, but one pulls out a taser and even if it’s not got batteries I’m not about to call their bluff. Besides, the other airport staff seem to know these two so either this is a shake-down they do on a regular basis or they really DO work for Airport Immigration. With a shake of my head and a massive sigh I follow to the two stumpy bastards into a little room. I know who to blame for this. [U]Several Hours Later[/U] Brains McGee bursts into a small room at the International Airport on the Mayan Riviera, cackling with mad glee, rubbing his hands together and puffing upon his cigar stub. The two mini Mexican immigration officers have their feet kicked up on the table and are knocking back some Molson Canadians and enjoying poutine. Judging by the amount of empty cans on the ground, they’ve been Canadianizing themselves for a while now. [I]“Paco! Juan! What the F*CK! You called me. Said you nabbed that b@st@rd! So where the F*CK is the oversized J@ck@ss?”[/I] [I]“Cerebos, iz nawt our faultz.”[/I] Slurs Paco… or is it Juan? [I]“How the hell is this sh!t not your gawd damn fault?”[/I] [I]“’e know how it iz done down Me-he-ko way, senor.”[/I] Says the other one, tipping back the last dregs of his beer and adding it to the collection on the floor. [I]“I f*cking told you to hold him until I got here. F*cking threaten him with the laws of this gawd forsaken backwater! You promised you would! How the hell did he escape?”[/I] [I]“’e knew ze law.”[/I] [I]“What? How? Where? I was making up the damn law!”[/I] Explodes Brains. [I]“’e pay iz fine. Poutine n’ cerveza n’ pesos. Very nice gringo.”[/I] Brains grinds his teeth. A common occurrence recently for the midget McGee. [I]“Where? Is? He? Now?”[/I] He manages to spit out. [I]“’iz flight go cinqo minuto ago.”[/I] Brains McGee splutters something foully inarticulate, even for him as Juan and Paco pop fresh Canadians and launch into a stirring rendition of O Canada in a delightful mixture of English, French and Spanish. Brains… doesn’t join in. *** Could this be the end of HaLF? The end of this dynasty? How will Brains lure Beeker down south? Why would Beeker rejoin this oddball collection of mini misfits? Will this be voted dynasty of the month despite not having any noticeable wrestling on it? Stay tuned gentle readers. *** [I]“There better be more to this f*cking thing gawd dammit. This is the most characterization I’ve had on any board and TEW08 is coming and I want a more prominent f*cking roll!”[/I] Gee, I wonder who slipped that vitriol into the end of this update?

[Beeker]

I returned home to Vancouver amid grey, overcast skies and a blowing, misting rain. Any visitor to Vancouver quickly learns that there are a few hundred types of rain in this fair city and this one is one of the most persuasive, bone-chilling of the types. Beside me, a small child who couldn’t be more than three years old sums up every arriving gringo on that flight with a whiny plead of, [I]“Mommy, Daddy, I wanna go back to Mexico!”[/I] Don’t we all lil one. Don’t we all. No incidents with immigration or security agents and instead of heading to a hobby farmyard, I head to a tiny apartment in the swank south, south Kitsilano area (or for those with a better grasp on geography closer to 74th than to 4th. For those without knowledge of Vancouver, Kits Beach just north of 4th… and 70 blocks south of that, not so beachy.) I hear that over on the Bad Side of Vancouver ruckuses and rhombuses are flaring up. Can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve met a person or two from that side of Vancouver. Hooligans and delinquents all! Life returns to its regularly scheduled grind and after a couple of weeks my tan starts to fade, although still a deep, chestnut brown by early March in Canada standards those vivid, halcyon remembrances of the magic of the Mayan Riviera started to dissipate like the spirits in the room after a night on hard liquor. I wasn’t expecting it all and it evoked a small smile of a half-forgotten dream when in my inbox popped up this gem. [B][U][COLOR="DarkGreen"]HaLF: Minis March Madness[/COLOR][/U][/B] [U]Date:[/U] Sunday, Week 2 of March, 2007 [U]Held:[/U] Bar Juarez [U]Attendance:[/U] 300 fans (Sold out!) (Luckily it wasn’t written in illegible crayon scribbles by the midget formerly known as Brains.) Kowled Kudo launches himself at Timmy Cromwell and a brawl perfectly suited to the Dublin area called Donnybrook erupts. Both men lay into each other with heavy fists and kicks until Will Power and Shim arrive on the scene and a tense game of brinksmanship threatens to reignite the violence until security pulls them apart. Ant-Acid gets shoved to the ring to explain that due to the conflict between Kowled Kudo and Timmy Cromwell… Ant-Acid will be facing off against Kudo Kowled Kudo over Ant-Acid with Kowl Lock. A surprisingly competitive bout. Padre Dolor throws down a gauntlet to Timmy Cromwell to see if he can out perform Kowled Kudo. Timmy walks to the ring laughing at Padre Dolor’s suggestion that Padre’s gonna bring the pain at all. Timmy Cromwell defeats Padre Dolor with a Smoothed Over in a match that nearly saw Padre pick up the win early, but Timmy shifted momentum and put away the (bad) Padre in about the same time as it took Kowled Kudo. Shim and Miya jump El Hijo del Mufasa ostensibly to announce that they’ve reformed the Riot. The Riot over El Hijo del Mufasa & Wii Mario by Count Out. Mario never even got in the match as the Riot ran roughshod over the already battered Mufasa until a swank (Tigerkinney plagiarized) double team sent Mufasa from the ring. Lazy backstage booking shows Semi Strong bumping into Relampagito. This leads to Semi Strong defeating Relampagito with a handful o’ tights and looking gassed doing it. Shandy Lover returns to a HaLF ring and throws open a challenge… which El Pandito accepts. Shandy Lover triumphs over El Pandito with the Lover Stunner which the crowd seemed to dig. Will Power agrees to ‘Ead Stone’s match. (When Will asked for the match is never made clear.) Will Power over ‘Ead Stone, Will was in command after a middle match heat session with ‘Ead looking dangerous but Will was marching towards victory when ongoing rival Kowled Kudo runs in and launches into an attack on Will. ‘Ead joins in and the two heels stomp down the HaLF Openweight champion. Will Power retains but he doesn’t look like much of a victor. [B]Overall: D[/B] That was fun. Seems like Brains really doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing and that Kudo and Cromwell are either dicking each other over for fun or they actually hate one another. Still, a slew of midgets makes me smile. I hit reply and sign up for the monthly newsletter from HaLF. And that’s about where I thought my association with HaLF would end. How wrong I was. *** There are a fair few Easter Eggesque references in there to past writings of mine and some inside jibes. Catch them all!

[Beeker]

What drove me out of the blustery Spring of Vancouver and back into the sweltering heat of an impending Mexican summer? Things… happen. Things that cannot be explained away by faith or magic or science or logic. Some things; light things, dark things, things that go bump in the night, things that vanish in the light; some things happen unexpectedly and unrepentantly and without ever giving an explanation march fully formed into a world. People want explanations for everything, but some times the conception of realities remains resolutely mysterious. My world slipped off its axis when the phone rang. Phones rarely seem to bring me good news. Except when in Mexico. Or was that due to the proximity to a foul-mouthed midget? Or a combination therein. [B]*Brrring*[/B] Yah, no ridiculous midi ring tones for me. If Linkin Park or Gnarls Barkley wants me to use me to promote their music they should be paying me, dammit! [B]*Brrring*[/B] I don’t recognize the caller ID, it just says vaguely Ontario. Hey, if the whole of a province is calling me it must be a good thing. Wait, that is Ontario and my spirits immediately plummet, since Ontario contains politicians in Ottawa, a town that considers itself the center of the universe, rampant Eastern egotism and the bloody (and always awful) Toronto Maple Leafs. Why, oh why, did I push the Talk button on my cell phone? [I]“Hello?”[/I] [I]“Hello, is this Mister Beeker?”[/I] A soft, clipped (and yes) Eastern Canadian voice asks me politely. [I]“Possibly. May I ask who's calling?”[/I] [I]“My name is Troy Winner.”[/I] Why is the owner of 4C (Canadian Charisma Championship Combat) calling me? [I]“I’m not sure if you’ve heard of me but I run a small wrestling promotion in the Greater Toronto Area.”[/I] [I]“I’ve heard your name.”[/I] I’m befuddled to be honest. Do I have some midget attraction pheromone that I’ve been putting out lately? First Brains McGee, now Troy Winner. This makes zero sense. [I]“Ah, excellent, this shouldn’t come as a complete surprise. It’s much easier to explain things if you’re somewhat attuned to the world of sports entertainment and wrestling. I’m calling to ask you a favour.”[/I] What possible favour could I offer to some midget in Toronto I’ve never met, who runs a promotion I’ve only heard of in passing and never seen a match? [I]“Uh huh. Go on. I’m not sure where this is going.”[/I] [I]“Ahem. Yes. It is a bit odd. As you may know, wrestling is a rather fluid addiction. Constantly people are coming and going; due to politics, finances, friendships, a better offer, injuries. One of the few constants in wrestling is a rotating door and an every changing roster.”[/I] So far I’m with him. Rosters change. Multiple reasons. Got it. [I]“We lost Darryl Devine to SWF and even though we all knew it was going to happen, it still hurt. I did manage to resign Jacob Jett and picked up Mainstream Hernandez and Trent Shaffer to help staunch the bleeding from losing the Devine One.”[/I] I know none of those names but if I’m listening politely. Confusedly but politely. [I]“Uh huh.”[/I] I repeat. [I]“Well, even though we pride ourselves at 4C by bringing fast paced, hard hitting in-ring action even I know that some eye candy can go a long way. Which is why I’m calling you.”[/I] [I]“Whoa! Wait a second! Troy, if you think I’m eye candy I don’t want to know the sort of BD/SM ‘fast paced, hard hammering’ action you’re giving the freaks and pervs in the Big Smoke. You can count me out. I’ve got my own kinks, but performing as eye candy for you is absolutely NOT one of them.”[/I] Troy laughs and I’m thrown for a bit of a loop. Clearly all midgets aren’t hard-wired the same, since I can’t imagine Brains laughing in mirth if I said something akin to that to him. [I]“No no. You misunderstand. I’m not calling to hire you, I’m calling because I took a flyer on a new valet and she mentioned your name in passing so I thought I’d follow up. She seems a bit… ditzy yet wild yet… I really don’t know how to put her personality into words.”[/I] F*CK! I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone. I’m waiting for the penny to drop. Actually, I’m praying the penny doesn’t drop. Since I know it’s not a penny but a beer keg of terror that’s going to crush me. An empty beer keg… of course. [I]“F***************ck!”[/I] I mutter. I clear my throat. [I]“I can’t help you, I have no idea who or what you’re talking about. No one I know works in the wrestling business.”[/I] [I]“Are you sure? She definitely mentioned you by name. Hang on a moment, I’ll fetch her. She’s just outside my office. One moment.”[/I] I hear Troy place the receiver down on what I can only guess is a wooden desktop. Up until this point, I’m praying and hoping and dreaming this is some horrifically cruel April Fool’s Joke or some practical joke taken way too far. But it’s not. Somehow I know it’s not. I know what’s coming. I know who is coming. And… I can’t deal with it. With HER! I left her behind. Another life, another verse ago. I sense Troy getting closer to the phone. I hear his fingers pressing against plastic of the phone. The air filling his lungs, spreading throughout his alveoli pulling the oxygen from the atmosphere and it mixing with his blood to be carried throughout his body. Troy says something. I know he’s saying something. I can hear the words but they might as well be in ancient Aramaic because I don’t understand a syllable. But I do understand what he’s doing, what’s coming next. He’s about to hand me over to this new valet. And even though I don’t know how long I’ve been listening to Troy, what his build up was… it could have been ‘here she is’ or it may have been a full blown wikipedia meets wrestling introduction hype job. All I know is that even though moments ago I can’t understand a word… in any language, ever… the next two come through loud and clear and ring and build to a deafening crescendo of cacophonic disruption. If sorrow and despair merged into one sound, this would be it. The sounds come as though from the other side of the universe, yet somehow screamed in my ear. And they just keep battering my skull on a never ending loop. I wake some unknown time later. I’m on the floor of my apartment, my cell phone smashed in half, plastic fragments digging into my cheek. Obviously the phone was trapped under my head when it bounced off the floor or the wall or table. Still though… a sound I thought I’d escaped continues to resonate and reverberate in my head. [COLOR="Green"]“...Tee Hee…”[/COLOR]

[Destiny]

Interesting backstory. KUTGW.

[ShadowedFlames]

[QUOTE=Beeker;391649]Still though… a sound I thought I’d escaped continues to resonate and reverberate in my head. [COLOR="Green"]“...Tee Hee…”[/COLOR][/QUOTE] Oh, man, I HAVE to mark out for that! Umbrelly drinks for everyone!

[Editor6]

I saw it coming and I still marked out.

[Beeker]

And now, for an Out of Character Quote... [quote=OOC] I don’t usually use OOC posts. Hell, my narrator usually does a good enough job to convey what I want the reader to know but obviously after the last post some explanation is needed. This is being set in the Cornellverse but with some heavy alterations. I’ve added a bunch of mini wrestlers to HaLF the promotion my narrator will be booking. It’s owned, rather obviously by this point, by Brains McGee. I’m not about divulge all the minis I’ve added but that will become clear in time as part of the grand reveal I’ve got planned. No, this is more about the fact that sebsplex (creator of my character render and creator of the GDS Verse) set about making an alternate verse to both the CVerse and Death of the Territories and Real World. I added Beeker to the GDS Verse (as sebsplex dubbed it.) In the process ended up added an extra 80 wrestlers to the CVerse – most of them referees and announcers but there are a few other characters. One, obviously, being Candice from the WEF (which can be found over on EWB) there are others but I’m letting you all know, that while Candice is in this verse don’t expect her to play near the sort of role she did in the WEF. She’s here. She’s employed. And she’s Troy Winner’s headache now. I only made the mention of her to make the tenuous connection to my old WEF dynasty, which ended over 3 years ago. Those who don’t comprehend the mark out moment for the catch phrase of a green “Tee Hee” are more than welcome to kick back and relax and enjoy the southern climes my player character inhabits now. What I wanted I’ve blatantly stolen from SeanDMan and his ‘Sean Damon’ character that he enjoys keeping loosely connected between his various forays into dynasties. His most famous incarnation being his tenure as General Manager of the Detroit Red Wings and the Firesale he immolated that storied franchise in. Twas a glorious burn. I’ve got my own concerns with Brains McGee and his band of midgets. What I’m saying is if people are expecting the merrily mad band which comprised the WEF to resurface down south of the border in Mexico, then my readers are in for disappointment. That’s not say Candice (and others) won’t be in the HaLF-told tale, it’s just leaving my options open and informing everyone upfront that this isn’t a WEF redo. New cast, new venue, new problems… all befalling the Beeker character. Let’s see where it leads, shall we? [/quote] Since CubsFan asked for it... those of you curious can go here for some [URL="http://www.ewbattleground.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=6247"][COLOR="Blue"][b]Old Tyme Wrestling Edge Federation goodness.[/b][/COLOR][/URL] That's over at EWB, so newbies there will have to register a board name.

[CubsFan915]

Candace may have changed, but I still marked out ridiculously hard for that..

[Beeker]

[I]“Gawd dammit, I command you to tell me why you changed your mind!” [/I]Screams Cerebros. [I]“Doesn’t matter. Ask me that one more time like the whiney toddler you are and I’m outta here. If you’re desperate enough to hire me, I’m sure there are others.”[/I] I snipe back at him. It’s early April and already Mexico seems too hot. The locals hunch into their ponchos against the spring chill but in the three days since I’ve landed, I’ve been in trousers once and nothing but t-shirts. On the upside, my fading tan has reversed course and is deepening nicely. I contemplated growing a moustache but the problem is my moustache is truly impressive… for a twelve-year-old Mexican. Being 34 and out-stached by teenagers would damage my ego a bit more than I can express. Cerebros’ (yes, I’ve insisted he change his name due to me winning the rights to them in that game of Texas Hold ‘Em) war room screams run-down. When I enter the building I get pitying looks from the locals, and while this part of Chihuahua isn’t too bad, it’s not too good either. (And it anyone thinks I’m going to base a minis diary in Northern Mexico ANYwhere other than Chihuahua you don’t know me at all.) [I]“You have to tell me! I’m your boss! I’m Brains MuthaF#cken McGee!”[/I] [I]“That’s it! I’ve warned you time and again Cerebros. You refuse to listen so…,”[/I] I grab Brains by his shoulders and before he can react I hoist him up and hang him on the hook by his leather vest. Incidentally I had the hook installed for this specific reason. [I]“You’re going to hang there you stumpy legged midget until you remember that while you may be cutting the checks I’m the one trying to book you out of this quagmire you’ve got yourself in.”[/I] [I]“GET ME DOWN YOU PUTA MADRE!”[/I] hollers Cerebros. [I]“At least you’re starting to learn the local dialect. Shocking you’ve been here nine months and you’ve yet to pick up more than the Spanish curses.” [/I] I’m browsing through the history of HaLF and it’s not making a lot of sense. Brains continues to spew curses and spittle at me but I’ve positioned the hook to give myself maximum distance from the angry little man and after a while his swearing becomes white noise. I can’t believe I’m in Chihuahua, Mexico. But when I finally came around from that near fatal phone call, I fled. Simple as that. And I went the first place I thought of. Back to Mexico. Back to Brains. God help me, back to HaLF. I don’t know a damn thing about wrestling and little more about business, but even to my rudimentary eye I can’t make sense of Brains’ business model or vision of HaLF. [I]“Listen, I’ll let you down if you promise to answer a few of my questions. Ok?”[/I] I offer an olive branch to Brains. [I]“F*ck you, giant!”[/I] And Cerebros hocks a huge loogie at me. [I]“Unhang me!”[/I] I smirk. I know it’s a look that infuriates a lot of people and Brains is no different. Secretly I’m pleased; I’ve never been called a giant before, since around ‘normal-sized’ folk I’m at the low end of average. [I]“You’re not in a position of power Cerebros,”[/I] I roll the word across my lips and bark a laugh as Brains’ face flushes a deeper shade of crimson. [I]“You either agree to what I’ve asked you can hang up there while I go find a chalupa and leave you hanging, ‘bros, until I return from lunch.”[/I] [I]“Screw you, B!”[/I] [I]“Your decision Cerebros. Chalupa and siesta time.”[/I] For all his intellect, Brains doesn’t have the fastest reaction time in the world so I’m out the door before he can stop spluttering his indignation and I head out to purchase some lunch from Miguel. I rent a small room above Miguel’s family owned restaurant. I fall asleep to the spiced smells of Mexican cooking. Of all the places I’d laid my head, this is one of my favourites. I’ve also learned that not all Mexicans are called Pedro. Who knew? Miguel waves a flipper at my approach and a few minutes later I’m chowing down on a tasty Chihuahua Chalupa. I haven’t asked if what sort of meat it is, or if this Chihuahua Chalupa is made from Chihuahua meat. There are so many of the yappy lil mongrels that I have to confess, the thought of doing my part to reduce the population of the ratdogs through a healthy diet of Chihuahua Chalupas is part of the allure of them. I wash it down with some bottled water, I’m easing into the local water and it’s not been easy so far. *** A few hours later, after the heat of the day begins to wane, I amble the few short blocks back to the sweatbox Brains uses as his HaLFquarters. I’d like to say there are some niggles of guilt in the back of my mind as I’ve left Brains hanging in the heat of the day, but he’s such an unpleasant little midget that I can’t find a spot of guilt in all my body. So I’m not a good person, I’ve accepted it. I carry a chalupa for Brains though. See, I’m not such a bad guy. [I]“Hello Brainy Smurf, I’m baaaack!”[/I] I call out as I enter the oversized janitorial closet dedicated to me. I dump my stuff on my desk, which I suspect was ‘liberated’ from an office without security but I’m not about to question it too deeply. I reenter Brains’ office and hold up the plastic tray I use to fend off the majority of the spittle spat at me. It’s that or wear a plastic-rain poncho and it’s too hot for non-breathing plastic clothing. But no spittle splatters against my tray. I peek around the tray and see that somehow the wriggly Monchhichi must have escaped. I look around proper and see Brains standing atop his desk, fists on his hips, biting his cigar stump so hard that I fear that cigar might become chewing tobacco in second or two. [I]“Hey ‘bros. What’s up? Other that you.”[/I] I smile sweetly at him. [I]“Looking good. Looking tall!”[/I] [I]“F*ck you! I could have died you b@st@rd! You f*cking left me f*cking hanging on a f*cking hook and went for f*cking food and a f*cking nap!”[/I] [I]“True half-pint, but I came back. And I brought you a snack!”[/I] And I hold up the bag containing his chalupa. [I]“It’s even a full sized, big boy meal!”[/I] [I]“That cuts it! You’ve been here four days and I want to watch you bleed like a stuck pig. F*ck it! If I had Hesketh’s number I’d hire her! She can’t say no to sh!t!”[/I] [I]“Except you, I’m betting.”[/I] [I]“SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! Say one more insulting thing and I’m going to take extreme measures! Extreme!”[/I] [I]“From your current vantage point you might be able to graduate to the lofty heights of elbow kicker. Much more respected than being a shin kicker.”[/I] [I]“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,”[/I] Brains says with a grim smile. [I]“Timmy! Kudo! Attack!”[/I] I don’t even have time to say WTF before I feel both calves impacted by to hurtling masses of something. I see my feet swinging upwards and suddenly I’m horizontal and 4 feet in the air. I’ve got just enough time to realize I’m about to feel a lot of pain when gravity SLAMS me back to the earth. [I]“Meet Timmy Cromwell and Kowled Kudo. They’re on the booking team. They put aside their differences long enough to instruct your arrogant ass on how to treat minis with some f*cking respect.”[/I] Brains sneers down at me, rolling the cigar stub from one side of his mouth to the other. I roll a bit and try to regain my bearings. [I]“Oh, right, there is one more member of the booking team. Meet Miya, muthaf*cka!”[/I] A blur launches itself off Brains’ desk and crushes me with a senton and I think I popped two or three ribs. Christ on the cross! Midgets are solidly built! I’m now unable to breathe or walk as Brains hops down, on my hand, the prick but I only barely feel it due to all the sensory neurons vying to register pain in my body. [I]“Well f*cknuts. I’ll leave you with your booking committee. Enjoy the view.”[/I] And he stoops to collect the bag that contained the chalupa I’d thoughtfully brought for him. Jerk! And thus began the first booking meeting under my regime in HaLF.

[Beeker]

I prop myself up on an elbow on the dirty floor of the war room at the HaLF quarters, staring me down and staring down at me are three angry men, not a one of them over 5 feet tall. I suspect any one of them would be able to kick my ass, even the odd one wearing what appears to be a tea cozy on his head. With my free hand I rub the back of my head; it hurts to lift my arm above my shoulder, a tribute to the hard packed body of one of them. All three stand side-by-side, mirrored grim expressions of undisguised loathing etched upon each face. At least they haven’t spat at me yet, Brains would have spat at me if he ever got me in this position. I rub the back of my hand across my cheek and feel the saliva dripping slowly down towards my jawbone. Yup, apparently Brains did spit on me while I was concerned with checking my ribs for tenderness. I wipe the spit on my St. Patrick’s Day Survivor shirt as I warily get into a crouch, expecting at any moment for one of the Oompa Loompas in front of me to strike. They don’t. I back out the door and back my way across the hall to feel for the door handle that leads to the conference room at HaLFquarters. There is no need to turn on the lights as the sun streams into through the grimy windows, dimming the brightness as the sun continues its westward trek to the Pacific. I don’t seat myself at the head of the table, taking instead the first chair to the right of it. If I’m to be Brains’ right hand man, I might as well at least appear the part. The other three enter the room, their heads barely clearing the backs of the chairs. Without realizing it I start to hum the Oompa Loompa’s music. The two Asian minis hop into seats across from me, but the surly looking Caucasian with severe 5 O’clock shadow moves around and pokes me sharply in my chest, right upon my breast bone. [I]“Yah, ye bloody git, if you are wise, you’ll listen to us!”[/I] He growls with a much deeper voice that I expected. English too. Not sure from where, but it’s definitely English. I wish EnglishLass were in this verse to help me out about now. She’s so diplomatic. I shift my glance between them all and sigh deeply; I vow to allow them to go first. Tea-towel leans forward on the table and steeples his fingertips together in a V as he levels me with an intense look, only know do I realize the table is average size but that each chair has a crosspiece, perfect for those with shorter legs. “Miya” tilts his head like a bird of prey and strings off a mixture of languages which I suspect is Japanglish, Tea-towel nods once and fires of a reply. “Miya” nods once, inclines his head to me in the shallowest nod of respect ever delivered in Mexico. If I were more knowledgeable about Japan’s Code of Bushido I’d recognize the insult delivered. Instead I nod my head with all the grace of a bobble head, as “Miya” pushes back from the table, hops down to the floor and leaves the room without a backward glance. Great. The only person I knew anything about just left the room. Tea-towel gets into a staring contest with me and I know I’m about to lose this battle. Meanwhile, Mini Cooper to my right slouches back in his chair, seemingly enjoying the exchange and my discomfort. I sigh inwardly. I have to eat crow or this pair is going to chew me up and spit me out. Eat very tiny crow. Respite comes in the form of another mini staggering into the door frame and giving the offending wood a kick and follows it up with a string of curses. The dirt that drifts down from the ceiling sends my eyebrows scrambling up my forehead. [I]“Shorry I’m latesh. Shiestha ran a bit… a bit… a bit… long.”[/I] Slurs the new arrival who struggles to get into the seat vacated by “Miya.” Alright, so I’ve got Tea-towel, Mini Cooper and the Halfcut Halfling. This is going to get worse before it gets better. The Halfcut Halfling drains the remains of the tequila bottle in his hand and drags the back of his hand across his lips before smacking them sharply. He focuses his bleary eyes on me, and for a split second, I’m fooled then I see a couple of things he’s younger than he looks, he’s had a rough life and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’s playing at. [I]“Who-sh thish?”[/I] This time his over-drunken words make it all sink home and my mind snaps back into focus. [I]“I’m the new head booker of HaLF and I’m guessing you’re the trio of midget malcontents who can’t get along well enough to get in the same book, let alone the same page so Cerebros had to go outside the vertically challenged community to find someone to take the reins of this out of control assortment of munchkins and minis,”[/I] I snap. It’s a bold gambit, and I’m either going to swim or be eaten by sharks. The Halfcut Halfling’s eyes go wide and he splutters a, [I]“F*cker”[/I] at me. [I]“Did you teach Cerebros to swear or did he teach you? You’re both f*cking naturals.”[/I] Halfcut Halfling belly laughs as he can’t hold a straight face anymore, Mini Cooper gives a few hearty chuckles and a one-breath-laugh manages to escape Tea-towels mouth. I take command of the meeting, [I]“Alright boys, first things first, you have me at a disadvantage. Other than Cerebros the only person I met here was a very solid Asian with some face paint named ‘Miya.’ Now unless you want me to run with the nicknames I’ve labeled you with, you best give me something otherwise you’ll be permanently Mini Cooper, Tea-towel and Halfcut Halfling, which works fine for me.”[/I] For reasons I can’t explain the three of them are engulfed in laughter. It takes over a minute for them to gain their composure and the Halfcut Halfling doesn’t manage at all, giggling throughout the meeting. When the tell me what set them off, that sets me off and another couple of minutes pass before any of us remember that we’re supposed to be running a meeting dealing with the future of HaLF. *** And then the meeting begins proper. (Roster post next, which might explain what sent everyone into laughter.)

[Beeker]

I sit back, as Tea-towel, Halfcut Halfling and Mini Cooper go over the general status and roster of the HaLF ‘familia.’ A convenient folder with snapshots of each wrestler and staff member helps to put names to faces with a short biography about each person in question. [quote=OOC] And since these are all unknown characters as I created them I would however like to take this time to give a great big shout out of appreciation and acknowledgement to [b]Brat[/b] and [b]Marcel Fromage[/b] for the images below. The vast majority go to Brat, so unless I mention Marcel as supplying the alteration, consider it Brat’s handiwork.[/quote] We start with the owner and then spin out from there. [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/BrainsMcGhee.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/BrainsMcGhee.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Brains McGhee [B]Position:[/B] Owner of HaLF and Authority Figure [B]Brief Bio:[/B] At just 3'6, Brains McGhee is one of the shortest men in pro wrestling, but his "little boss" routine has kept him in constant work since his first appearances in 1996. In late 2005, he got a big break when he was hired by SWF and given a "biker makeover", becoming the mouthpiece for rookie tag team The Dirty White Boys. However, by September 2006 he was on his way back to the independent scene, when it became clear that Grease Hogg and Lead Belly could handle their own interviews comfortably. [B]Post SWF:[/B] Brains thought he set up a minis promotion in southern Texas, but in reality he ended up starting up the HaLF promotion in Chihuahua, Mexico. Currently onscreen as the Boss of HaLF. Tea-towel turns out to be… [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/MiniHoodedKudo.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/MiniHoodedKudo.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Kowled Kudo [B]Push:[/B] Occasional Wrestler [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Kowled Kudo has enjoyed a long reign as one of the premier minis in Mexico. His first appearance was under a mask and tea towel in tribute to the burgeoning popularity of Haruki Kudo. While Haruki has wrestled under his infamous hood and sans hood, Kowled Kudo's cowl has only grown in magnificence. Recently Kowled Kudo founded Bronze Wyvern's Tail, a mini's stable with Shim and Miya, in obvious reference to Silver Dragon Feet of BHOTWG. [B]Finishers:[/B] Kowl Lock and Kowl Cutter [B]Tribute to:[/B] Haruki Kudo The Halfcut Halfling, the cause of much laughter just happens to be… [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/HalFacutt.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/HalFacutt.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Hal Facutt [B]Push:[/B] Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Hal Facutt is the most recent iteration of Rip Chord. The lifespan of Rip Chord tributes don't seem to last long, too frequently they seem to feel the need to 'live the legend' and attempt to be just as rough and ready as the legendary (and pickled) Rip Chord. Hal Facutt is promotion designed character for the upstart HaLF promotion. Alas, this Rip Chord Mini seems to love the mini bars just like all the mini-Chords before him. [B]Finishers:[/B] Half Cutter [B]Tribute to:[/B] Rip Chord Mister Mini Cooper turned out to be none other than… [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/TimmyCromwell.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/TimmyCromwell.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Timmy Cromwell [B]Push:[/B] Upper Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Face [B]Brief Bio:[/B] "Smooth Injustice" Timmy Cromwell is considered by many within the industry to be the finest mini worker of any generation. A natural face with an ability to make virtually any opponent look great, he also has youth on his side and a real connection with the fans. The only real question is just how popular he could have been had Timmy not stopped growing at around 5 feet tall. To him... it's the CromwellVerse. [B]Finishers:[/B] Smoothed Over and Injustice for All [B]Tribute to:[/B] Tommy Cornell (but don’t tell him that.) Then we got into the rest of the roster, starting at the top of the roster… [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/WillPower.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/WillPower.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Will Power [B]Push:[/B] Main Event [B]Alignment:[/B] Face (Current holder of the HaLF Openweight title) [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Will Power is a midget in long standing and much renown through the minis community. Due to an uncanny resemblance of Christian Faith, Will Power has enjoyed more fame than most due to the popularity of his larger 'mentor.' Less a brawler and more an aerialist than Faith, he may just be the most popular mini wrestler in Mexico. [B]Finishers:[/B] Power of Will and Test of Will [B]Tribute to:[/B] Christian Faith [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/SoulShaker.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/SoulShaker.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Soul Shaker [B]Push:[/B] Main Event [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Soul Shaker is a superb midget luchadore who drifted around the fringes of wrestling until donning the half-mask of Soul Taker. Whereas Soul Taker is known for his lengthy and awe-inspiring graveyard-themed entrance is something that everyone looks forward to, Soul Shaker adds some Latino dance stylings making him one of the most frenetic corpses in all of wrestling. [B]Finishers:[/B] Shimmy Shimmy Soulshaka [B]Tribute to:[/B] Soul Taker [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/ShandyLover.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/ShandyLover.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Shandy Lover [B]Push:[/B] Upper Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] When someone becomes as popular as Champagne Lover did in Mexico it's expected a mini-version will come along shortly there after. To the shock of none, the slightly alcoholic version, Shandy Lover debuted to much aplomb (and a smattering of skill.) Alas for poor Shandy... he doesn't get to bang Jennifer Heat. [B]Finishers:[/B] Lover Stunner and Shandy at Lunch [B]Tribute to:[/B] Champagne Lover [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/EadStone_beret.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/EadStone_beret.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] ‘Ead Stone [B]Push:[/B] Upper Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] 'Ead Stone is an anomaly in the world of midget wrestling, a bizarre combination of two wrestlers that really shouldn't go together but somehow do. Initially intended to be a mini version of Mayan Idol, 'Ead Stone was a bland, if burly, mini wrestler. The original Head Stone was hurt and under the mask when someone from Quebec, it wasn't until he started cutting a promo with a ridiculously over-the-top French accent that Head Stone become 'Ead Stone and his popularity skyrocketed. [B]Finishers:[/B] Ze Ixtab Noose and Ze Zuper Duper Zenton [B]Tribute to:[/B] Mayan Idol (en français) [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/SemiStrong.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/SemiStrong.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Semi Strong [B]Push:[/B] Upper Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Face [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Semi Strong is in fact the third incarnation of Sam Strong, such is the enduring legacy of Sam Strong, brutha. Forty years younger than Sam Strong himself, this mini enjoys the charisma of Sam Strong in his prime and, unfortunately, the physical prowess of the geriatric Strong. [B]Finishers:[/B] Strong Arm Tactic [B]Tribute to:[/B] Sam Strong, brutha [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/WiiMario.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/WiiMario.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Wii Mario [B]Push:[/B] Upper Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Face [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Due to litigation from Nintendo this mini makeover of Mario Heroic had to drop the Super Mario DS but in a stroke of inspiration returned less than a month later as 'Wii Mario,' proudly proclaiming his Irish-American-Mexican-Japanese ancestry. This clever play on words has really brought Wii Mario some attention and momentum. Nintendo very quietly dropped the litigation against Wii Mario due to public backlash. [B]Finishers:[/B] Nintendon Stretch and Wii Whacking [B]Tribute to:[/B] Mario Heroic [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/JockGiedroyc.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/JockGiedroyc.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Jock Giedroyc [B]Push:[/B] Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Face [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Jack Giedroyc is a very solid "British" wrestler who has charisma to spare. He blatantly stole the 'Wrath of God' gimmick from his 'older sibling' Jack. Much like in DaVE the twist Jock's put on the 'Wrath of God' gimmick has gained him a huge cult following within the mini wrestling fan base. [B]Finishers:[/B] Crashing Up [B]Tribute to:[/B] Jock Giedroyc (image courtesy of Marcel Fromage) Hey… I vaguely recall this guy. He’s the one who tried to concave my chest cavity. [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Miya.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Miya.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Miya [B]Push:[/B] Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Miya forms a tag team with Shim dubbed the Riot, an obvious reference to the Rebellion of BHOTWG's fame. Both are well known and respected minis and are enjoying an upsurge in popularity since joining Kowled Kudo in the Bronze Wyvern Tail. [B]Finishers:[/B] Miya Spoiler [B]Tribute to:[/B] Miyamae [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Shim.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Shim.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Shim [B]Push:[/B] Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Shim forms a tag team with Miya dubbed the Riot, an obvious reference to the Rebellion of BHOTWG's fame. Both are well known and respected minis and are enjoying an upsurge in popularity since joining Kowled Kudo in the Bronze Wyvern Tail. [B]Finishers:[/B] Shim Skull Drop [B]Tribute to:[/B] Shimedzu [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/ElPandito.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/ElPandito.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] El Pandito [B]Push:[/B] Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] El Pandito (the pundit) is a mini version of the lucha mainstay El Critico, in a fantastically fun angle, El Pandito betrayed El Hijo del Mustafa in exactly the same way as El Critico turned heel on El Leon. [B]Finishers:[/B] Pure Punditry [B]Tribute to:[/B] El Critico [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/PadreDolor.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/PadreDolor.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Padre Dolor [B]Push:[/B] Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] With the return of Pablo Rodriguez to Mexico, it was felt what better way to celebrate the return of one of the greats than with his own mini combatant. Hence Padre Dolor entered Mexico six months before the return of the Priest of Pain to help prepare the fans for Rodriguez. Now he continues to enjoy some popularity home and abroad. [B]Finishers:[/B] Bendición del padre and El Éxtasis [B]Tribute to:[/B] Pablo Rodriguez [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/ElHijodelMufasa2.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/ElHijodelMufasa2.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] El Hijo del Mufasa [B]Push:[/B] Lower Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Face [B]Brief Bio:[/B] El Hijo del Mufasa is a mini tribute to El Leon. He is particularly known for his heated and often bloody feud with former friend El Pandito. Both really found their stride when they decided to emulate the El Leon - El Critico feud almost to the letter. [B]Finishers:[/B] Simba Second Justice [B]Tribute to:[/B] El Leon [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Antacid.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Antacid.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Ant-Acid [B]Push:[/B] Lower Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Face [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Usually mini tribute characters mirror their larger as closely as possible but Ant-Acid took an intriguing angle by being as anti-Acid as possible. Interesting thing since Ant-Acid is quite likely one of the top mini aerialists in the world but he opts to go for a more hard nosed technical approach. Acid apparently is flattered and finds the anti-Acid tribute hilarious. [B]Finishers:[/B] Litmus Test and Ant-Acid Rain Bomb [B]Tribute to:[/B] Acid [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Relampagoito.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Relampagoito.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Relámpagito [B]Push:[/B] Lower Midcard [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Relámpagito is obviously the mini-version of Eléctrico. Both enjoy the instantly recognizable masks, although Relámpagito is no where near the wrestler he pays tribute to. In fact, no one is quite sure how Relámpagito got the rights to the Electric Mask. At least he's young so there may be some hope for Relámpagito. Rumours of tension with Hijo Del Relámpago over their similar names cannot be confirmed. [B]Finishers:[/B] Lightning Strike [B]Tribute to:[/B] Relámpago [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/CalGenio.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/CalGenio.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Cal Genio [B]Push:[/B] Opener [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Cal Genio is not some mundane name for a wrestler with Latin heritage, no it's a tribute to Genio Verde. With the meteoric rise of Verde's popularity the minis community couldn't help but model someone after him. Hence Cal Genio... the word placement was reversed to make him sound more palatable to English speaking fans, but like Genio Verde... this is one bad, bad villain! [B]Finishers:[/B] Torcedura de la Cal [B]Tribute to:[/B] Genio Verde [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Ni-lo.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/Ni-Lo.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Ni-Lo [B]Push:[/B] Opener [B]Alignment:[/B] Face (or Heel - the trio wasn't sure.) [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Ni-Lo is a mini-wrestler crossed between a tribute to Nicolas Lopez and... something else. A cross between Lopez and a celebrity stalker it's a gimmick that seems destined to thrive or die an agonizing death. Only time will tell if Ni-Lo has the chops to pull off this tricky combination. [B]Finishers:[/B] Ni-Lo Blow [B]Tribute to:[/B] Nicolas Lopez [CENTER][URL="[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/PhoenixPuntoCinqo.jpg[/IMG]"][IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd6/Beeker_photos/HaLF/PhoenixPuntoCinqo.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/CENTER] [B]Name:[/B] Phoenix Punto Cinqo [B]Push:[/B] Colour Commentator [B]Alignment:[/B] Face [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Phoenix Punto Cinqo is actually the second longest serving member of the Phoenix Family, debuting shortly after Phoenix I started making waves in the industry. Since then Phoenix Punto Cinqo has been a staple cameo wherever the Phoexnii are wrestling. Some recent injuries have caused Phoenix Punto Cinqo to start to curb his in-ring activities. [B]Finishers:[/B] Phoenix Rising [B]Tribute to:[/B] Phoenix I No Image available (blame that lazy J Silver.) [B]Name:[/B] Lepp Wreckon [B]Push:[/B] Occasional Wrestler [B]Alignment:[/B] Heel [B]Brief Bio:[/B] A grizzled old vet of the mini game if ever there was one, an angry, surly nasty back alley street fighter from the wilds of Ireland. He's enjoyed longevity and popularity due to he's is the misanthropic curmudgeon the fans love watching unleash his 'angry Irish fury' upon everyone. [B]Finishers:[/B] Wreckonball [B]Tribute to:[/B] Original mini No Image available (blame J Silver.) [B]Name:[/B] Yo Da Mask [B]Push:[/B] Manager [B]Alignment:[/B] Face [B]Brief Bio:[/B] Ya Da Mask is enjoying a career resurgence as the mentor of the Padawans. Playing an odd mixture of a sci-fi icon AND a hip hop artist from the savage jungles of the Yucatan. Rarely in the ring any more, when he does his all around ability continues to defy the ages. [B]Finishers:[/B] Jedi Master Mind Trick [B]Tribute to:[/B] Yoda No Image available (see above) [B]Name:[/B] Brett Fontana [B]Push:[/B] Road Agent [B]Alignment:[/B] none [B]Brief Bio:[/B] The Halfling Hardass Brett Fontana succeeded in a business where none thought he would, what's more it was as an active competitor. A midget who believably went toe to toe with anyone and everyone. He generally came up on the losing end of matches, but he brought intensity and entertainment during 80s and early 90s. Beloved. Feared. Respected. Hardassed. [B]Tribute to:[/B] Original Mini (from sebsplex GDSVerse.)