The F Word: EP #6

The show opens with Winston Winfield on stage, dressed in a toga and wearing a leafy wreath upon his head. Bambi and Candy prance around him, both wearing togas as well, although they look much better in the skimpy white robes than the middle-aged emcee.


Winston: “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time once again for your favorite Project: Honor Exclusive, The Final Word with Julius Fairweather! Join us this week from Athens, Greece for all of your favorite segments, sponsors, and four-letter words! Now, without further ado, while he may remain uncrowned with championship gold, I am nonetheless honored and privileged to introduce your host, the true champion of your hearts and minds! He is a man of complexity and depth...He is The Shepherd of Lost Souls...He is The Weatherman...Of course I’m talking about the one and only Bad Motherfucker…”Furious” Juuuuuulius Fairrrrrrweather!”


The stage’s golden curtains are tossed open as Julius bursts onto the stage, thankfully wearing his tasteful black suit and tie instead of the ancient Greek wardrobe his co-host has adorned. With his afro styled immaculately, Julius playfully wags his index fingers at the audience before giving them all a bright smile and a wink of his eye. With a wave of his hand, he motions for the cameraman to track his movement from the stage to the desk and sofa as Winston and the Swallows Twins follow closely behind. Julius takes his place behind the desk as Bambi and Candy jiggle their way to the stripper’s pole in the background, while Winston plops down on the sofa with his legs spread apart, clearly forgetting that he’s wearing a toga with nothing underneath. Julius, oblivious to the accidental nudity displayed for his viewers to see, begins to welcome his disgusted guests.


Julius: “What’s up, motherfuckers? Welcome to another edition of my motherfucking program! After a crazy couple of weeks in Project: Honor, I’ve got a lot of motherfucking ground to cover! Tonight we’re gonna have a new Viewer’s Verse, Fab Four, F Grade, and F Bomb, but I also have something special planned for all of my favorite motherfuckers, the Project: Honor fans!”


Winston: “Ha ha! That sounds amazing, sir! I, for one, can not wait to see what you have in store for us this week!”


Julius shoots his co-host a threatening, bug-eyed glare, clearly displeased with the unwelcome interruption.


Julius: “Motherfucker, if I wanted to hear you talk, I’d shove my arm up your ass and work your mouth like a puppet!”


Winston shifts uncomfortably in his seat, which thankfully covers his aging genitalia from further sight.


Julius: “That’s what I thought. Now before I reveal my special segment, we need to start this motherfucker off with a brand new Viewer’s Verse!”





Julius: “This week our amateur rhyming session is going in a different direction. I don’t want my soon-to-be Emmy Award winning show turning into the kind of thing where I stand on a motherfucking soap box and pour my black heart out. It just so happens, that as a direct result of what happened at Wired Consequences, my next door neighbor slipped a piece of paper under my door that sums up my motherfucking feelings on what went down. So let’s get this shit out of the way, courtesy of my creepy-ass neighbor, Thaddeus Hieronymus Craft, or as I like to call him, THC.”


Julius clears his throat with a loud “ahem” as he holds up the hand-written note scribed by the lonely little man from across the street.



Julius: “I like it. Short, sweet, and to the motherfucking point. Thaddeus then continues with, 'Julius, you are my ebony idol and I cannot stop thinking about the day I watched you train in the nude on your rooftop'...hold up...I think I’ve already repeated the most pertinent parts of his motherfucking letter. At least the ones that rhymed. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for that letter, THC. Also, if I ever catch you on my property again, I’mma pop a cap in your creepy little ass.”


Julius crumples up the piece of paper and throws it to his side, unintentionally bouncing it off the side of Winston’s head.


Julius: “We’ll be right back with a brand new segment after this motherfucking word from our motherfucking sponsor! Stay tuned, motherfuckers!”






Julius: “That ain’t the kind of sponsor that interests me, but I can see its appeal where some motherfuckers might be concerned. Now let’s put advertisements to the side and talk about what’s coming up next. Normally The Weatherman would hit all you motherfucker’s with a Storm Warning right about now, but with Fallout holding their first exclusive Pay Per View last week, matching it up against a regular edition of Proving Ground doesn’t seem fair. With that out of the question, and with Edgebrook’s cease and desist keeping me from bringing you The Verge, it might seem like I’m up the creek without a motherfucking paddle. Well think again, motherfuckers! Inspired by the fan voting from Wired Consequences, I’ve decided to hold a little contest of my own!”


Winston: “Oh-ho! Color me intrigued, sir!”


Julius quickly snaps his head toward his co-host to shut down the unwanted interruption.


Julius: “Shut the fuck up, old man! If you were a better sidekick, I wouldn’t have to do what I’m about to do!”


Immediately overcome with nervousness, Winston shifts in his seat, once again giving the audience a brief view of his aged genitalia.


Julius: “Now then, lately it seems as if your favorite motherfucker is getting hit from all sides. Even if I could grow eyes in the back of my head, I wouldn’t see shit for all this fine motherfucking hair I have. That’s why I’ve decided to recruit a motherfucker to watch my back, and I’m gonna give you, the fans, the chance to vote for one of three possible candidates! I’m gonna bring them out and tell you all a little bit about the motherfuckers, but after that, my life is your hands, motherfuckers! So without further ado, allow me to introduce contestant number one, “Angry” Vincenzo Andretti!”


The camera turns toward the stage as “Son of a Preacher Man” begins to play and the curtains part. Vincenzo wanders to the center of the stage and looks from his left to his right, unsure of where he’s supposed to go next. Fortunately, Julius is on top of things.





Julius: “Just hang out right there while I tell the folks a little bit about you, Vincenzo. I met this motherfucker back in Italy a few weeks ago when he had a try-out match for Project: Honor. Turns out, he’s been wrestling in Europe for the past few years, but he grew up in Brooklyn, New York. He’s 6’2”, 235 lbs, and prefers a submission style inside the ring. His hobbies include retro dance competitions and experimenting with pharmaceuticals. His turn-ons are long walks on the beach and uncomfortable moments of silence. Spin around so the motherfuckers at home can get a good look at you, Vincenzo!”


The aspiring Italian-American wrestler shrugs his shoulders and does as Julius asks.


Julius: “Say, has anyone ever told you that you look just like John Trav-”


Vincenzo: “Don’t! Don’t do that shit, Julius! I swear to god, if you compare me to him I’ll knock you out on general principle!”


Julius: “Whoa! Check the hostility, motherfucker! You got something against Saturday Night Fever?”


Vincenzo: “I hate that motherfucker, Julius. He’s the reason I don’t wrestle in the states!”


Julius: “That man is a national treasure! You even hate ‘Look Who’s Talking’?”


Vincenzo: “Well, I guess that one’s not so bad. At least it’s better than anything Tarintino’s done…”


Suddenly Julius’ eyes begin to bulge out of his head, and for a few brief moments he’s at a total loss for words. Finally, he manages to shake off Vincenzo’s blasphemous words and continue on with the segment.


Julius: “Move to the end of the stage, motherfucker! We’re done with you! I swear, any of you motherfuckers vote for him and I will rain down with great vengeance and furious anger on all your motherfucking asses!”


Julius takes a brief moment to collect his thoughts, before focusing his attention on the next blue cue card in his hand. The camera once again focuses on the stage curtains as “Bulls on Parade” begins to play. This time when the curtains part, the man who enters is still forced to duck his head in order to step on stage. The exceptionally large man makes his way to the center of the stage and calmly folds his hands in front of him, menacingly staring forward. Despite his flashy suit and impressive size, there is a sense of sadness about him.





Julius: “Motherfucker! Now that’s what I’m talking about! This here is John “Tripp” Hammer, who has spent the past year as a bouncer at Butch’s Beaver Emporium in Reno, Nevada. Before that, this 6’8”, 380 pounder spent his time serving out a 10 year sentence in Louisiana State Prison for some bullshit charges that we won’t get into here. His hobbies include studying various pain index scales and visiting the kittens at his local animal shelter. His turn-ons include naked women with guns and he hopes to one day participate in the first space-mission to land on an asteroid. Give that big, ol’ booty a spin and show our audience what they might be voting on!”


Tripp remains standing still at the center of the stage, barely giving Julius a sideways glance.


Julius: “Or not. Tell us, Tripp, if you were to become my wrestling bodyguard, which move would you use as a finisher?”


Tripp: “Any move I do is a finisher, Julius.”


Julius: “You’re goddamn right it is! If all you motherfuckers watching are true Friends of Fairweather, you’ll be voting for this motherfucker right here! Now then, we have one final contestant to consider, so if Tripp wouldn’t mind sharing the stage...”


The gargantuan man takes a half-step toward Vincenzo, who is currently picking lint off of his suit. Seconds later, The Rembrandts’ “I’ll Be There For You” begins to play as the curtains part a third and final time. This time, the man who enters isn’t nearly as impressive as either of the first two contestants. This latest arrival moves to the center of stage before awkwardly looking to his left at the men who have entered before him. He then gives the audience a happy wave as Julius begins to describe him.




Julius: “I wanted to give all of you motherfuckers an obvious choice to turn down, because when you compare this anorexic motherfucker to my other selections, well there ain’t no comparison at all. This here is my nosy neighbor from across the street who I mentioned during my Viewer’s Verse segment. His name is Thaddeus Hieronymus Craft or THC for short. This squirrely motherfucker has barely left his apartment in 12 years. He’s independently wealthy cause his daddy invested in Top Ramen about 40 years ago. The only fight he’s ever been in is his own struggle with crippling feelings of inadequacy. His hobbies include spying on my ass with binoculars and I don’t even want to know what turns this motherfucker on. Now I don’t want you to spin around or anything, but why don’t you tell us all what it means to be on my motherfucking show?”


Despite being told not to, Thaddeus spins around on the stage not once, but twice, almost with ballerina-like grace.


Thaddeus: “It’s just so very special to be here, Julius. So very, very special. It means the world to me to be on stage with such special people as Tripp and Vincenzo. It’s just an all-around special moment in my life. So special.”


Julius: “I guess what you’re trying to say is that it’s special. Good for you, motherfucker.”


Julius turns his attention away from the stage and looks into the camera facing him.


Julius: “There you have it, motherfuckers! Go vote now to decide which of these fine fucking contestants will be my new bodyguard, and don’t forget, my life is in your hands!”





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Carl: “I've been writing for three weeks straight, but I don’t mind. I don’t even get paid! I’m just happy to be recognized for my hard work by being called an 11th Hour Savior.”


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Maven: “I told them I’d have their business proposal ready within the hour, but honestly, they’ll see me as a savior even if I turn it in tomorrow. What are they gonna do? Fire me?”


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Julius: “I don’t know what the fuck that’s all about, but maybe I’ll give those motherfuckers a call and tell them to hit up James Edgebrook if he needs a longer vacation. For now though, it’s time to reveal my motherfucking Fab Four!”



Julius: “As always, I’m gonna choose two motherfuckers from each brand that had a big week or that are primed to make a big impact in the weeks to come! First up, representing Proving Ground, we have Emmanuelle! This young lady scored her first singles win this week, coming off a tag team victory in her last appearance! It’s too early to say if Emmy is on a role just yet, but with these wins under her belt, I’m expecting her confidence to be on the motherfucking rise! Next up, she’s gonna find herself in one hell of a crazy tag team match, but with TJ Thompson as her partner, Emmanuelle’s winning ways could very well continue! So for finding her footing and turning some heads, Emmanuelle has made my Fab Four! Congrats, motherfucker!”




Julius: “I was tempted to put the lovely Kasey Winterborn right back on my list, but since she found herself as one of my favorite motherfuckers last time when I picked her to win The Ascension Title, I thought I’d share the love and look elsewhere. That’s when my lascivious stare landed on “The Night Owl” Alice Knight! Alice and Martha Atlas had their dark match moved to the main show at Wired Consequences, and both of them delivered, but it was Alice who came out with her mustard-stained hand raised in victory. I see big things for this psycho in the future, but as we’re filming this very show, I’ve learned that Alice is scheduled to be my next opponent. I hold no hatred in my heart for the kind of girl that’s always willing to give a helping hand, but a motherfucker’s gotta do what a motherfucker’s gotta do. So despite what I’m about to say when I cut a promo on her, Alice Knight has my admiration for the time being. For that reason alone, she’s made my Fab Four! Congratulations, motherfucker!”



Julius: “Next on the list is a bad motherfucker who’s no stranger to The Fab Four. Ozymandias is the kind of competitor that grabs your attention, even when he doesn’t come out on top. It just so happens, that he did come out on top last week when he faced Lance Williams, a win that’s gonna put that Cthulhu-Worshipping motherfucker back on everyone’s radar. After taking a week off, Ozy came back with a vengeance, and I wouldn’t want to be the one standing across the ring from him next. This here is a man with a plan, and as long as that shit don’t involve my ass, we cool. Will Ozy be seeing his reflection in a shiny gold title in the near future? It wouldn’t fucking surprise me. So for being a badass and making me nervous if I keep you off the list for too long, you’ve just made my Fab Four! Congratulations and all due respect, sir!”



Julius: “Last, but certainly not least, is a choice that may surprise some of you motherfuckers. This man didn’t officially win his match at Wired Consequences, but that wasn’t without its share of controversy! If anyone walked out of the Pay-Per-View looking good in defeat, I’d have to give it to Jason motherfucking Long! A lot of people had him pegged to be the next Noble Champion, and while he may remain uncrowned, he did not disappoint! If you think this is the last title shot Jason Long’s gonna get, you’d better think again, motherfucker! I expect him to enter his next challenge a little wiser and even more determined than the last. So from one motherfucker who came up short in his championship quest to another, keep holding your motherfucking head high and keep your eyes on the prize! You had a lot of folks talking, even in defeat, and for that you’ve just made my Fab Four! Congrats, motherfucker!”



Julius: “Now that I’ve highlighted some of my favorite performances from the past week, you all know what’s coming next. It’s time to find out what really pissed me off, and believe me, there’s always a ton of motherfucking contenders!”



Julius: “I thought about putting my old buddy Pyro back in the hot seat for almost setting my ass on fire...again...but nah, I can respect a man that’s willing to do anything to win some motherfucking gold. I can respect someone that fights to keep it too, so that means Drago gets a pass as well. So what can’t I respect? It looks a lot like this...”



Julius: “I have had it with these motherfucking masks on this motherfucking brand! It’s starting to feel like every time I turn around, another one of these motherfuckers is showing up. Now while I normally enjoy being part of a brand that plays it loose with rules, I’m the kind of motherfucker that’s willing to take credit for the shit he does! You didn’t see my ass wearing no Halloween mask when I tried to run down Drago or when I popped Pyro with a cheap shot. Hell no! I wear my lack of motherfucking morals with pride!”


Julius shakes his head in frustration.


Julius: “At Wired Consequences, we had more of these masks than you could shake a Saw DVD at. Everyone knows I’m biased when it comes to my boy, Indy, but even the most heartless motherfuckers have to admit that he’s the last member of Proving Ground that deserved to get beaten up in a parking lot. Shit...you all couldn’t target Mark Hunter? What about Warstein or Dickie? They were in the motherfucking building!”


Julius continues to shake his head, surprisingly showing more disappointment than his usual anger at the F Grade.


Julius: “Even if I’m not being biased, look at all of those masks at the end of the show! Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed seeing Rock Johnson wet himself, but couldn’t at least one of those motherfuckers have ripped off the mask to reveal themselves as DeMarco and say “It was me Johnson! It was me all along!”? Come on, motherfucker, we all know you love the theatrics, but start embracing that shit! If Christian wasn’t under at least one of those masks, I’ll donate my private stash to the motherfucking F.D.A.!”


Julius then pauses for a moment, eventually shrugging his shoulders.


Julius: “Still, if I looked like him I guess I’d wear a mask too. Just in case Christian wasn’t behind any of those masks we saw, I’ll keep his ass out of the dunce chair for now and put that pointy-ass cap on the symbol he’s associated with Fallout. Seriously, why not a motherfucking mushroom cloud, motherfucker? Anyway, enjoy your F-Grade, you Purge-Mask-wearing motherfuckers!”


The F-Grade and Purge Mask graphics fade from the screen as Julius turns to face a different camera.


Julius: “Now it’s time for another word from one of our fabulous motherfucking sponsors, but we’ll be right back with this week’s F-Bomb! Stay tuned, motherfuckers!”




Julius: “Welcome back to The F Word, motherfuckers! Okay, I have to confess, that last sponsor was just a little something I had Winston cook up on his big-ass IBM desktop from 1998. Still, I’d pay good money to see a movie with those two suave motherfuckers in the lead roles! Goddamn! Can you imagine the motherfucking merchandise? Dream Team lunch boxes, Dream Team action figures, Dream Team panties with our faces on the cheeks...the possibilities are motherfucking limitless! But there I go, getting all carried away again. Before I leave you all with sexy visions of me and James Raven stealing your women, allow me to impart a few words of wisdom…”



Julius: “It seems like with every big show that comes along, there’s all kinds of motherfucking talk about who won and who lost. Sure, the winners deserve their motherfucking credit, but what about the ones who didn’t quite grab that brass ring? That’s why the letter F stands for Failure.”



Julius: “For every winner of a match, there’s at least one motherfucking loser. Does that automatically mean that person is a failure? Fuck no, motherfucker! Take it from a guy who had that Prime Championship dead in his sights; just because I may have failed to beat Drago doesn’t make me a failure. You think established stars like Dickie Watson or Jason Long are failures? Fuck no! They wouldn’t be in Project: Honor if they were! Even Big Drip...well...I guess it’s better not to mention them, but it wasn’t losing their match that made them failures! Failing at life is a whole nother’ subject I don’t even want to get into!”


Julius’ voice gets louder with every sentence, as his eyes bug out further and further from their sockets.


Julius: “The point is, one loss don’t mean shit! So things maybe didn’t go the way everybody would have liked on last week’s shows, but that ain’t no reason to throw away your motherfucking controller as if your ass is getting camped on Call of Duty! Fuck that motherfucking shit! If you’re on either of Project: Honor’s rosters, you’re a motherfucking winner in my book, and trust me, I only read the good shit!”


Julius leans forward in his chair and continues to stare at the camera as his voice lowers to a determined whisper.


Julius: “Fuck failure and fuck anyone who tells you different.”


Winston: “You are correct, sir. Even when you fail at Uno.”


Julius: “GODDAMN IT!!!!”


Suddenly, Julius stands up from his chair, grabs the edge of his desk with both hands, and flips it onto its side. Even Bambi and Candy have to stop dancing on their pole and step away as they are overcome with momentary fear of their employer. Julius then grabs his desk chair and hurls it into the audience, apparently hitting someone as loud exclamations can be heard in the Greek language. Without saying anything else, Julius storms off of the set, leaving a shell-shocked Winston to close the show himself.


Winston: “Um...I guess that’s all the time we have for tonight. Let’s...uh...let’s run another commercial and then play the outro. Sound good? Yeah...let’s do that…”




We see “The Dripdozer” Lance Williams standing on a simple film set while holding up a generic bag of potato chips.


Dripdozer: “Plain Chips? Roooaaarrr!”


He then rips the bag into shreds, sending potato chips flying everywhere.


Dripdozer: “Gotta have grease! Gotta have spice! Need a little excitement?”


Lance then reaches down to grab 3 new bags of snacks, which he holds up for the camera to see.


Dripdozer: “Rip into some Rap Snacks! Oh yeah!”





When we return to the studio set, we see Winston and the Swallows Twins trying to clean up the mess that has been left in Julius’ wake. As the camera begins to pan back, it is also apparent that EMTs are attending to the man who was struck by Julius’ chair. Without any further announcements or messages, this week’s outro song, “Loser” by Beck, begins to play…