Perchance to Dream

Scene I: Stanton County, NE - a very rural pig farm - Tuesday, February 19, 2003

Rural Nebraska truly cried out, in the near frigid temperatures, that this indeed was the land of those who claimed to be the salt of the earth - for they surely were.  The countryside of rural Nebraska, specifically Stanton County, consisted of terraces, mixed sand and clay uplands, and other features marked by the Elkhorn River.

The history of the county stretched back centuries, and was the land of the Pawnee and many other Native tribes before the invading white man pushed them out of their lands.  The area was rich with history, with farmland, and with true men who bent their backs in service of the earth, and their fellow man.

It was a blustery, cold day, the sky, air, and land submerged in winter's cold, icy grip.  The windswept fields of grain swayed in the breeze, as the silver Jaguar of Robert Lancaster pulled in, in front of a modest looking farmhouse.  Dressed in a black wool winter coat, the Duke stepped out, his breath condensing into a fine mist as he exhaled and surveyed the area.  Lancaster had always felt at home in the countryside, his beloved Wessex having its own distinct historical and environmental depth.

He had brought a camera crew with him in order to say a few words to his intellectually limited yet very skilled opponent at the upcoming Wildfire!, Jonny Five.  Lancaster knew the emotionally distraught state Five must be in, having tasted betrayal all too recently, yet he capitalized still through most foul means against Quinn Tate, and also cost his foe Cledus Yokel his bout against "Superstar" Michael Stevenson.  To capture the CSWA Great Plains Title and wear it proudly as its first holder, Lancaster knew that he would have to work around Five psychologically almost as much as physically.

In that war of minds and words, the Duke intended to fire the first shot.

The Duke walked up the shaky wooden stairs of the farmhouse and knocked at the door, summoning the resident farmer and owner to the door.

The man, in his late fifties or so, scanned the Duke and smiled.

"G'day to you sir.  Can I be of any help?"

Lancaster smiled warmly at having received an equally gracious welcome and offer of help.  The flavour of the area reminded him all the more so of his home back in England now.

"Good afternoon to you sir, and yes, thank you, you may be of assistance.  My name is Robert Lancaster and I am here with a film crew, and I was wondering if I could make use of your farm here to do a small piece for television.  Of course, I will reimburse you for your time and use of your land."

The farmer was amazed by Lancaster's proposal, having never received such a request.

"Well, sir, that's awfully gracious of you, but it's not needed at all.  All I'd ask is that you come on in and have a coffee...or in your case tea might be better!"

The farmer laughed a deep rich laugh.  The Duke acknowledged the tea stereotype that all Englishmen had to face, and nodded his head with a sizable grin.

"Tea or coffee would be lovely.  I was wondering though if you would be so good as to show me to the...pig pen actually."

"Pig pen? Heck I'll show you the whole farm if you'd like."

"That'd be most appreciated, Mr...?"

"Ah I'm sorry.  Williams.  Mr. John Williams, at your service Mr. Lancaster."

The two shook hands.  "Thank you Mr. Williams. Please..."  The Duke extended his arm outwards, asking Williams to show the way.

"Will do, let me just get my coat and shoes on."

A moment or two later Williams emerged wearing a rather aged winter coat, and a dark blue toque, and big winter boots.

The two men, with the camera crew lingering behind, walked out to the back of the farm, which Williams indicated stretched for many acres.  There he grew mostly wheat and oats, but also raised pigs, the former commodities not bringing in as much money as they used to any longer.  The farm, not surprisingly, had been in his family's hands for generations, stretching back to the 19th century.  It had as many farm like qualities as any farm could have...it was almost a living, breathing, cliché, but, it was true.

A few minutes after looking over the barn and farm equipment and so on, Williams guided the entourage to the pig pen, where a few dozen or so pigs happily squealed and snorted away the minutes, feeding, rolling around, and having a good time of it too by the looks of it.

The Duke loved the farm setting, and happily observed the piggies.  Lancaster thanked Williams for the tour, and told him that he and the crew would return in a few minutes to the farm house, after they finished filming.  Lancaster kneeled down at the side of the pig pen, and instructed the film crew that he was ready to begin.  He had rehearsed everything he wished to say within his mind, and let his thoughts flow.

"Good afternoon one and all from rural Nebraska.  This frigid day, for me, and the CSWA, marks the beginning of war.  For now, a verbal war between myself and one Jonny Five.  Mr. Five, you will recognize this place where I am at this moment, and no doubt you are familiar with this cute little animal that you have had, by in large, far too much contact with already, the Sus scrofa.  Just to note, that means 'pig,' in laymen's terms."

"And, there is no greater laymen than you it would seem within the glorious ranks of the CSWA.  Jonny Five, Jon Fiverton, you have shown yourself to be a prime example of Darwinian theory within the ring and outside it.  Surviving on the streets of Toronto for years - I too having spent some time on the streets of London - and having escaped an abusive family to become what you have today.  A very decorated athlete who has and will likely stop at nothing to reach the pinnacle of this sport.  I can relate wholeheartedly of course."

"Back when I donned the name 'Duke Robert Goodlife,' I too stopped at nothing to gain victory.  Just ask my good friend Jeff Kushner, or my former associate Richard Bunn, who helped secure the NAWA American Championship around my waist a few years ago.  Or, ask Hades Osiris, the Enforcer, or Thane Renhsuk, all past CWF alumni, the latter helping me win the 'Ten Stipulations Championship' in a total farce of a match.  And of course, there are countless others who suffered at the hands of these."

Lancaster reached into his pocket and removed a set of brass knuckles, coated in gold.

"Many have felt my wrath at the hands of this little beauty, and believe me, if that gentlemen you are partial to be associated with insists on using his Au plated cane at any point during our bout, you will find five round imprints and gold dust implanted on your skull, the blood gracefully spewing from your head.  However that is only a last step, a final resort, if things do get ugly.  The sword of Damocles hangs over your head, and I shall not be as ignorant and poor unfortunate Quinn Tate, come Wildfire!"

The Duke placed the knuckles back into his pocket, and stood up, looking at the pig pen once again.

"Mr. Fiverton, you will find yourself wallowing in filth as much as these beasts of the earth if you come armed to the ring with your worst weapon of offense - your ego.  You may attempt to fling as much dirt and feces as you like from your mouth, but it will be for naught.  When it comes to of pigs and men, I see little difference.  Squeal all you like Mr. Fiverton, and you shall, but it may only be in pain when you feel your neck snapping, or your spinal cord impacting on the mat.  Whatever may be, may be."

Robert stood up, and walked along, while talking, before a field of wheat, which continued to blow haphazardly in the wind.

"Jonny Five, a man who sees his height and power as perhaps two of his greatest assets.  In this regard you are correct.  But you will not be the first man who stands exactly six feet seven inches to have crossed my way.  Think back a year or two to the World Wrestling Alliance.  I brought Louis Bourbon into the world of wrestling, and I helped banish him.  For a time I heeded his words and knew his name, but today he is nothing."

Lancaster smiled a vicious smile.

"I know you are capable of all I can do Mr. Fiverton, and rest assured, I too know all you are capable of as well.  You shall use your strength, your anger, your blood instinct in that ring.  You may think you have a decided advantage over me.  But I truly hope you do not think that, for you are what I once was.  And now, I am all the wiser.  You see me, you look in the mirror, and see much of what I used to be in yourself.  Combat this Jonny Five, and bring all you have to that ring."

"However when the match is over, the lights are dimmed, you will have your anger and spite, your malice and destruction to comfort you, and nothing more.  Gold is fleeting Mr. Fiverton, but for you, it may be only your Rolex watch which shall comfort you after our contest.  Sleep well these upcoming days and focus yourself.  And dream Jonny Five, dream."

The camera focused on Lancaster's face.  "To sleep - to sleep - perchance to dream."

He turned around and began to walk into the distance, as the scene fades.