A smudge, a splatter, a
cat cloaked by the night
served upon a platter,
now all our dinner guests howl.
And in the gut, on the morrow
our veins freeze as a ghost
invades our bones!
And we crave it, shelter it
embrace it!
Now we are seduced by sorrow,
mesmerized by cringes and sneers
held tight by sins of yester-years
as we weep at this phantom's
sweet rescue.
We don a yellow cape
born of circumstance,
and then a craving for chance stirs, just a chance
to wipe away this puddle, this well
of black ooze that his dripped
all over us...
We(allofyouandiandthems) dream of a purging.
A house-keeping of souls!
But we just stand and listen
to screams dangling in the wind...
There's a chill here, you see...
Like early morning in a shoddy cabin, the sway of the world around us becomes criminal as it's winds whip against us and halt all other thoughts except those filled with warmth...
Yet, there's none to be had. I went from pillar to post, was broken down and now what remains is left to blow away within the dark coldness of Hell.
Where did I go wrong?
As I float in this echo chamber, I can't help but feel as if I've suddenly got all the time in the world. I feel immortal in this moment and in a brief flash, that's a positive prospect. It only takes a moment though before the idea of eternity in solitude quickly sours. I would do anything to vanquish this isolation.
Inevitably, my minds eye turns to the past, roaming over everything I've ever done to try and pinpoint what went wrong and how... so it's no happenchance that most of my memories are of the XWF, of my 'arena' and all the horrors I wrecked there...
19 August, 2007
This son of a b*tch is mine, I'm not letting him take one more thing from me! It's mine!
*Blood sprays against a wall in front of me.*
my feet, I wasn't sure whether or not Cyren would be able to follow me. He had just gotten off of a phone call with public health officials concerning the 'terrorist' intentions of Mark Flynn. I consider briefly striking his name from the book of life but indeed, I work in mysterious ways.
If I am to present an example of the truly pitiful, I must allow Flynn to continue his 'good works' in spreading in the word. If you do too many drugs in school, are raped too repeatedly by a stern nun and mommy calls you her 'special little man', what you end up with is a Mark F'n Flynn. However, as soon as my blood begins to boil in a fashion similar to Cyren's, my attention is drawn away from this practice in futility by Alice, waving me ever closer to her.
BLAIR: Yes, my love dove, what is it?
The goddess, as that is the only way to describe this petite reincarnation of 'Aphrodite', smiles softly at me and points around the corner of this vine-covered maze we've been trapped in.
ALICE: Look, the Red Queen's guards have moved on, we have a chance for escape!
BLAIR: Thank you for apprising me, Alice. Cyren, would you like to lead the way?
(Cue MST3K-style Sidebar with Gideon, Nubby and Pedophile.)
Quote:
Pedophile: This is where the sexy little girl is going to lead them into a trap!
Nubby: A trap? I'd like to be trapped in her cleavage, quackety quack!
Gideon: Quiet, you two! This is an integral part of the subplot. It''s a carefully constructed moment that will allow the 'Alice' figure to be an engine in motion, propelling our duo further into Blair's delusions.
Nubby: 'Delusions!' She's god, Gid. She is unable to have such things! She can have playboy magazines at the snap of a finger, dancing Ricky Martin's whenever she wants but she can't imagine it.
Gideon: You're fictitious and an apparition that lies soley in her mind.
Pedophile: Then how are we speaking and how do you know what we're saying?
It takes Gideon a moment to think up a reply.
Gideon: I can only wager that since I'm myself in an hallucination, I concede that I can not. You are my imaginations portrayal of Blair's own. You're a dime store copy, my friends.
Nubby: Yea, I think you've dropped some 'dimes' recently, at that.
(Sidebar out.)
CYREN: It's true, looks like the coast is clear! Let's get the hell out of here and head to Motel 8!
I feel perplexed at this. It's as if he believes we're in an alternate universe parallel to our own. He's a confused, chaotic man. I think I'm attracted to that but alas, my angel is here for me now.
ALICE: Might I have a bit of licorice before we head to the Party?
BLAIR: Yes, my child. Piles of licorice for you! And as an added incentive, they'll all be flavored like Mark Flynn's micropenis.
Her eyelushes flutter lushly, those big blue eyes staring up at me.
ALICE: Truly? My, what curious things in Wonderland there are.
???: More and more curious, my darlings. It's only a matter of time before the Red Queen snatches you away, regardless! It's time for you to recognize the 'urgency' at hand!
The Cheshire cat materializes in front of us, his wicked grin as big as the moon. No sooner then does he finish speaking, does the 'White Rabbit' appear before us.
Allow me to describe the White Rabbit for you; he gets a bum rat. He's got a six pack of O'Douls, a crack pipe in one hand and he's nearly a dead ringer for 'Harvey.' Not quite so cuddly as you'd think.
WHITE RABBIT: Ya'll... umm... ya'll need to come with me. We gotta punch in the clock!
ALICE: Oh truly, will we have all manner of tasty delights?
The hare burps, farts and scratches his nuts.
WHITE RABBIT: There are toaster strudels and egg Mcmuffins shaped like Neonero.
BLAIR: Glorious! What a feast is prepared for us!
CYREN: We've got to keep moving, Blair. Keep your voice down, darling. And uh... please, quit jostling 'Alice', she may not appreciate it.
I believe he's referring to the fact that I've decided to strip Alice naked and keep her close to me. I hold her easily in one hand as we roam around the cavernous garden.
BLAIR: She's my love dove and as such is under my protection. Do not fear for I shall reverse time if any peril were to befall her.
At this, Blair's foot crunches on a leaf, the White Rabbit pulling open a section of the hedges all around us, revealing an elaborately enormous table with teapots and scones littered around haphazardly.
The head of the table reveals none other then the Mad Hatter who rushes towards us at a manic pace.
MAD HATTER: Ladies and Gentleman! Excellent to meet your acquaintance! What does the Satellite of Love have to say?
At this, everyone in Wonderland looks upward, the stars of Wonderland falling away and the SOL coming into full view.
(CUE SIDEBAR)
Quote:
PEDOPHILE: We are doing well. What's the age of consent in Wonderland?
The Mad Hatter scratches his chin and contemplates the question.
MAD HATTER: In Wonderland, time doesn't exist, so in essence we are all eternally young!
Nubby: Pedophile is putting in his change of address forms as we speak!
Gideon: Pedophile is a sickening pederast, I apologize. You are all very wonderful creatures but I might admit, I feel you're all very unreal.
Pedophile: I am NOT a pedophile! I simply delight in the succulent flesh of young children, the milky smoothness and innocence they exhi---
BLAIR: You're a god damn pedophile whether you want to be one or not, got it?!!
I am tired of their constant gnattering on and on.
PEDOPHILE: Pedophile... is... a pedophile, I'm sorry, my lady.
Nubby: I love the fact that we used Martin Short in this casting. He brings a sort of 'short man' creepiness to the whole story.
Gideon: Well, there's a lot of deeper meanings at work. The tea party can be seen as a meshing of society as a whole with the Mad Hatter ---
(Cue Sidebar Out.)
ALICE: Oh, it's a parade of (c o c k s), might we watch it, Blair?
And sure enough, as I watch the lights explode behind my angel's eyes, an entire army of giant genitalia begin to march past us. Little tongues peek outward from the urethra's of each specimen, on their lips the name of 'Mark Flynn.'
Soon enough, I grow ravenous and I storm into the parade, using my godly powers to devestate the population.
BLAIR: Join in, Cyren! There's plenty to go around!
I ask this of him as I shake a penis his way, slapping it around and finally transporting it into Mark Flynn's mouth in the other dimension to shut him the **** up.
CYREN: I'm alright, Blair. You go on ahead... I uhmm... ate breakfast earlier.
Cyren seems to fade into the background at that but suddenly the MAD HATTER is at my side yet again.
MAD HATTER: My lovely, you're a sight for sore eyes! Surely, you must have met Head of Gilmour's Mother? She's a staple around here!
I nod my head.
BLAIR: Indeed, just earlier we were discussing the merits of time and it's effect on black holes. She was about to relate to me a story about how spaghettification actually may not happen in certain fields of strin---
MAD HATTER: Regardless, regardless! SHE'S HERE! With a friend!
Suddenly, from across the small clearing of brush, none other then Head of Gilmour's Mom with SATAN! in tow, make their appearance at the party.
HOGM: Have you all decided whether or not to dong-worship SATAN! ?
SATAN!: *bark, bark*
SATAN! is a tiny poodle with evil eyes.
CYREN: I can't say I've been tempted to lately, no.
MAD HATTER: Oh but you must! A good dong-worshiping is very liberating! Mark Flynn is at the 'Dong-Temple' at least once a week! He brings many slender Asian men with him each time, all named 'Neonero.'
CYREN: That certainly explains quite a bit.
ALICE: Oh, but may I do some dong worshiping?
HOGM: Certainly, dear! Just foll---
???: Ahem! Not so fast, HOGM! You're not the only priestess of 'dongitude' in Wonderland. I will take this child...
My God! What is this?
It's Head of Mark Flynn's Mother! HOFM!
HOFM: I have spent many a years training my son in the ways of 'stupitude' and 'dongaligion.' He is a master of the finest caliber now.
MAD HATTER: EVERYONE, RUN! IT'S THE HOFM!
Suddenly, HOGM 'plasma travels' like a rocket, shooting into outer space. SATAN! jumps into a portal to never-never land, Tweedledee and Tweedledum briefly appear but the commit suicide and ALICE flees into a corner of the field.
BLAIR: Why is everyone so fearful? I am God and I can protect you.
The head of Flynn's mom only laughs menacingly, it's deep cackles being heard throughout the realm.
HOFM: Silly, mortal! You're loaded up on c o c k s and foolishness! I am the mother of Mark Flynn! I am the one who gently caressed his bottom every night until he was 23! I was the one who fed him from my teeth every night until this one! I am the proprietor of all things nightmarish... and as such... I have a surprise for you interlopers!
BLAIR: Bring it, HOFM! I have no fear of Flynn's in this world or any other!
HOFM: Then you shall for your ignorance! MWAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!
Suddenly the earth seems to tremble, teapots and kettles smashing on the ground as a podium arises form virtually thin-air. From behind this podium also rises a throne and suddenly my eyes go narrow, understanding that we've reached the crescendo of our quest.
BLAIR: Cyren, protect Alice! I must dispatch the Red Queen!
RED QUEEN: You've come far enough, White Queen!
And suddenly it makes sense. Indeed, I am the White Queen. I am the one meant to forge a changing in all worlds. I am to be the shaper of things.
BLAIR: Your nonsense ends here, !
And now the curtain is fully drawn away revealing the enormity of the reality. The Red Queen is simply nothing but Shane dressed in Victoria Secret's red lingerie. He smiles deviously at me.
THE RED : You've come far enough, Blair! Stay back or the girl gets it!
Shane snaps his fingers and a giant bong materializes from nowhere... it hovers over Alice's head, threatening to drop!
BLAIR: By god, Shane! Don't drop that bong! We can talk this through!
THE RED : The time for talking is over - Mark Flynn has ruined human intellect and communication for all time. It is you whom allowed his terror plot to unfold! You, whom allowed him to speak at all! He's legally and I knew this when I signed him! Affirmative Action, ya know... it's a bitch.
I notice Cyren is shielding Alice's body with his own, looking deeply into my eyes.
CYREN: I believe in you, Blair. We've come too far to allow to smack us down now! I know what must be done... and so do you!
And in an instant, our salvation was in my mind's eye.
And being God, I made it so.
BLAIR: I hold nothing back, ! And in that spirit... allow me to introduce you to your destruction!
A giant purplish portal begins to spin in the sky above us and very quickly a heavy sneaker smacks onto the ground. It's enormous! My god, it's a giant making it's way out of the portal! He must be a hundred feet tall!
Oh My God! It's a man!
But it's not any man! It's THE MAN.
BLAIR: Hit the music, boys.
GIANT JONATHYN: I hate Cyren and his shenanigans but I'm frankly disgusted with your technical advancement of my creation! I am the master of 'Wonderland!' Be gone, you devil!
And as quick and as flashy as Shane appeared, he was vanquished. Jonathyn plucked from his throne, devouring him in several crunchy bites and eating him.
BLAIR: Oh thank you, mighty Jonathyn! Thank you for your grace!
JONATHYN: **** this, I have acupuncture I need to go to. And I have to watch the Brave's game tonight. Be good, children. Now, home with you all!
At that, Giant Jonathyn snaps his fingers, and suddenly we're all falling down a rabbit hole.
When we find our footing, we're in a shopping Mall in Orlando, Florida. Cyren and Alice are behind me, trembling.
I reach out to my 'love dove', cradling her and placing sweet kisses on her lips. I turn to Cyren.
BLAIR: Of all the cocks in the world, Cyren - I'm more proud of yours then any other's. If you weren't my tag partner and 'friend', I would gladly eat your c o c k.
The 'Legend' seems to accept the compliment.
CYREN: Ummm... thanks, Blair. I appreciate that, but do you think we can get to a motel room? I think I'm dying...
I nod my head and permit this for him. We've all come out transformed from our ventures through the looking glass.
CYREN: Blair? May I take this last bit of wrap-up my dear? I really feel as if it's the only gentlemanly thing to do.
As we nestle into Motel 8, I have an urge to ravage Alice in the shower.
BLAIR: Be my guest, Cyren. Just make sure that in some form or fashion that Neonero and Flynn receive your comments.
CYREN: Oh, I have my ways... thank you.
At this, I make my leave of Cyren as he begins to relay his opinions on this week's match up.
...the Rogue's thoughts.
Mark Flynn. Neonero.
What a match made in Hell, I think. In fact, it's beyond that. I don't think SATAN! would even be so cruel as to subject someone to their combined yammering and nonsensical statements. No, only a crueler fate would set them in my cross hairs. It must be Charlie Sheen at work, here.
Neonero has oddly been very quiet this week, perhaps he's been playing with his 'Schadenfreude' too much. He'll go blind, you know? If he tries to understand words from other languages, his small mind may explode. He's yet to even grasp the deeper meaning and definition of words in an everyday vernacular. He is a picture of dichotomy; sniveling coward on one hand and brazen 'upstart' on the other. He's a combination of the worst the world has to offer; but he's a ****ing 'Angel' compared to the demonic forces at work that crafted Mark Flynn.
He spews so much uninformed rhetoric, it's truly a gargantuan effort to keep up. I am in awe at the monolith of stupidity that he is; his dopiness attracts morons by the mother load, I take it. In fact, for a final time, I'm going to take him out piece by piece, rip his little detachable limbs and brain apart and present them to you so that you might have a better picture of the 'F'n' Flynn.
Quote: I don’t even understand what you were trying to do from beginning to end.
Were you trying to be like Mr. XWF with your ridiculous premises and fourth wall breaking antics?
Because you weren’t. Mr. XWF is funny.
Were you trying to be like Joseph Page with the quoting what I said back at me and dissecting it?
I don't know about you, Mr. Flynn, but we have entirely different ideas about what a 'fourth wall' is. It's origins come from stage theater and it references how the stage only has usually three walls with the fourth being left open so an audience can view the cast's interactions. This fourth wall is 'invisible' and only inferred. When a member of a play or such addresses an audience via that 'invisible' wall, that's where the term 'breaking the 4th wall' comes from. It's about destroying one's ability to 'suspend their disbelief.' All you do, is this. You are the most prominently guilty party I've ever met when it comes to this crime of 'entertainment.'
You speak of 'handlers' and 'roleplays.' You speak of me as if I am able to manipulate other members of the roster and as if I am actually multiple people. You are a train wreck, Flynn. You have taken the entertainment we bring to folks and have flushed it down the drain. You are an enormous vacuum of 'fun.' You ruin this industry worse then Tyler Decker. In Neonero, a man I've found professional respect for, I would expect him to in kind piss on you. It seems Neo and I can't find a respectable tag match anywhere to be found in the Lethal Lottery. Not with idiotic scum the likes of you roaming the hallways.
I also love the fact that whilst you criticize me for quoting you... you quoted me. That's an experiment in irony, I believe kids these days would coin it an 'epic fail.' That's a pretty good term for your entire existence, though. Take that for what it's worth, kid.
Quote: And I honestly couldn’t do it. Because EVERY WORD OF A CYREN PROMO IS AWFUL AND/OR STUPID.
Are you serious? Sincerely, do you really think any of this cough medicine induced hallucination worked within itself?
How can you in the same breath say that ‘you’re not a handler’ and claim that I was awful on ‘television’?
Quite frankly, I can easily defend myself here. I'm not a 'handler' of any sort. Not a baggage handler, not a CIA operative speaking with 'assets', etc. etc. I have however, heard you're a 'ball handler' from the boys in the back. I've heard you've jostled Tristan's testicles so often you've got nicknames for them; 'Ego' and 'Maniac.'
And my mind might be a bit rattled and fuzzy from the cough syrup but ****; look at the history of FuzZ in XWF! He's a Legend, Champion and former OWNER! And he was high on heroine and crystal half the time! Sobriety and lucidity are not requirements for success in XWF. A certain measure of intellect is though; that's where you're sorely lacking.
Quote: How can you whine about how ‘you’re a physical human being’?
Then, break the fourth wall with someone you don’t even know on the other end of a phone line.
I think therefore I am. We've been down this road before, Flynn. You're repeating yourself and it's grating my nerves. I made a call to the FBI who diverted me to the CDC in hopes that I might contain your vicious dumbness to a manageable area before it spread out of control. I'm not in a play; this is reality, kid. You don't know what side of the line you're walking anymore - you've become unhinged and that's not a good thing.
Quote: I seriously used to believe that in some people, there might be a trace of inherent good.
I used to believe that if I crossed my fingers hard enough, children could wish upon stars and their dreams could come true.
I used to believe that if I rang a bell enough times, every angel would get their wings.
Now? How can I possibly believe in a just and loving world?
And I wish rainbows tasted like skittles, buttercup. The world simply doesn't work according to your childish mentality. It's about time you woke up with a bit of Folger's in your cup. This is a combat sport we're engaged in and all you can do is repeat my own words back at me and offer nothing of interest to speak of. If Budweiser wanted to parody 'Deux Exes' they would reach out to you as the 'most boring man in the world.'
Quote: So, when I say, Second Grand Slam Champion of all-time.
I don’t mean over the past fourteen years this company has existed.
I mean in the past five months. You know, the ones that matter. The ones where the good superstars started getting signed up and making it clear just how unreadable and awful promos were in the olden days.
If I could summon Fred L from the depths of his 'news reporting coma', I would sic him on you. He, or Hawaiian Hardhead or Gecko even would eviscerate you in a heartbeat. Those 'glory days', were truly that. The XWF is in a state of renewal but not ascension. In my day, you wouldn't be fit to even be on the card, you'd be a curtain jerker. Yet somehow you're a prestigious 'XWF Champion?' That's the truly cruel joke, here.
Who did you beat? Tristan Slater? I wipe my ass with Tristan Slater's. I might not be as good as I once was but I'm still the best man walking on this earth. You're going to truly understand why I'm a living Legend when I get you alone in that ring. It might be Blair's moment to shine but as I've said, I'm putting you in a casket, boy.
Quote: Let me give you a hint, Cyren.
You pathetic old man.
The key to effective trash talk is subtlety and detail.
For instance, don’t just say you’ll eat my dog.
C’mon. Go further into it.
Come upon my dog asleep in her kennel.
Throw the whole thing in the fireplace.
Slow roast my dog as her pathetic yelps only serve to wet your appetite.
Overcook my dog so you can enjoy the crispy darker meat.
Serve it in a tasteful dish with a side of brie.
Hold on, I'm gonna 'break that fourth wall' again and place a quick call to PETA, you sick bastard. I don't know what kind of shenanigans you've pulled with your pooch - you've gotten into Jim Hickbilly's liquor cabinet, I think. You and your canine-roasting self can go straight to hell. To even imagine hurting a poor dog, that's an automatic loss right there my friend. Sure, I'll kill your dog, maybe even rape it. But to roast it alive? That crosses a line.
I don't beat around the bush; I'm not very subtle. I'm a man and as such I'm usually pretty straight up with what I say; so when I say I'm going to end your ****ing life this week - make out a will, you little nilly-willy bitch.
Quote: The disturbing elements are highlighted in the humanity of the presentation. The deeply considered analysis in combination with the macabre actions.
My, my. Looks like someone crawled out of his cave and grabbed a thesaurus. Only there's a slight problem, Flynn. When you try to sting intellectual words together and expound upon a very limited vocabulary, you often end up with an unintelligible mess. So let me simply 'highlight' the flaws in your own vocabulary. A lot of it made sense up until that second sentence. Let's examine that one; 'The deeply considered analysis in combination with the macabre actions.' That doesn't mean anything. You have said exactly nothing. There's no purpose to that string of words and they add nothing in context to the rest of what you said; is literally a combination of words that almost make a point. Here, let me fix it for you Flynnie:
'A deeply contemplative analysis should be undertaken to examine the macabre actions and contrast them with the manner in which they were presented.' Now that, that would have been impressive. You're simply a fool.
Quote: Excessive negative without human positive only reflects an element of deceit.
Do you understand, Cyren?
No, I don't. The reason why is because you're an idiot with no comprehension of the English language. Deceit is an explanatory word; it adds personal causality to any other word or phrase it's coupled with. 'Excessive negative without--' Excessive negative... what, you jackass? Emotion? Action? Dreams?
You don't make a lick of sense even in your final points. I'll try to clean that up again for you but I'm gonna start expecting pay checks for being your damn editor.
Excessive negativity inherent in a person's psyche may compromise them and leave them susceptible to an unwelcome deviousness.
I'm tired of correcting you, boy. You're not worth any more of my time. This is a cake walk of all time, I'm afraid.
You're welcome. And Mark Flynn? One final word to you:
!
/>
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
