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JimCaedus · (09-17-2017)

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"You Just Been Blingsteen'd"

(mood music)

The extent of the damage done by the Engineer's finisher'd been a lot worse than the viewers of Warfare had been led to believe. They thought I'd been kicking out a split second too late. Who'd think that after such a thorough ass-whipping? The Engineer...he'd kicked my ass. Period. Didn't you all see, for example, the part when Engy took a headbutt from a man who's successfully utilized the manuever multiple times in AND outside the ring, then gave that man, lessee, it's difficult to recall...FIVE headbutts, I believe it was, in return like the man called Caedus wasn't shit but some tenderfoot titty-baby newbooty noob ain't ever wrassled (nor fought for that matter) a day in 'is life? Come now, a kick out? Nooooo sir, not after a near squash like that. Not after a beating like my name's Paul Levesque and I'm the prime candidate for an infamous Curtain Call punishment. Seriously, I viewed the tape...combining the invincible Engy's FAR superior technique, the commentator "love" and the way I bungled my way through that nigh one-sided match like fuckin' Gilberg to a clean pinfall how could anyone entertain the notion (or ever have) that Jim Caedus is anything other than some schmuck and tongue-in-cheek entrant in the Top 50? A kick out? Ladies and gentlemen that was a seizure.

"Incapacitating brain injury" was what I heard, lying on the stretcher in the emergency room.

"What the fuck- Stop that man!" was what I heard while fleeing that same emergency room.

::FADE UP ON JIM'S FACE::

::The camera begins a 360° pan around him::

What the fuck would THEY know? They must be among the cocksuckers who've always assumed that death-stomping I took in 2003, the attack that left me (as specified by the doctor himself) with brain damage due to 7 minutes without oxygen, exists as a mere detail to beef up the false persona of a professional wrestler; not, in fact, the genuine events of a tragic life. They dismiss my kicking outta death's pin as fantasy, not a miracle. They don't realize who I am...

::By the time we've arrived around Jim's left side we see a massive 4 inch split in his skull a good 2 inches and a half wide by the center. We can see his brain protruding from the double-head stomp finisher wound.

The camera continues until Jim's face once again dominates the lens, his dead-eyed zombified gaze piercing through us::

"I _did_ say Jim Caedus was dead, did I not? Why else do you think I dropped the Star Killer banner on the official site? He done got merked.

And now...Robbie Bourbon...so quick, as usual, to kick a man you believe to be down and out as the penultimate example in the XWF of cordiality, class and manners...now you've been effectively Blingsteen'd into believin' you'd be coastin' o'er the corpse o' Caedus, your numbskull narrated words misquotin' and embellishin' in supreme smartass fashion on a line o' thought Theo's thot-y thickheaded holier than thou trap-settin' spineless self pushed to a precise level, fooled into droppin' your guard, too busy jackin'-off in satisfaction, throwin' those water buffalo's hooves above your head so as to catch the salty dribblings of a clever quipper's climax in your own mouth while Blue films as the dick pics pour in and the likes, emojis and hearts form a constant stream o' Bourbsy adoration across the livecam screen...to notice your opponent has pulled the wool over the explosively plump sacrificial lamb's eyes. Too busy celebrating over low-blows that tickle a pawnsy undeRADICALing mick Celtic-cunt and the oft-Gilly-levels-of-hate-receiving Shove-It Overseer Oz to realize I snuck in like a cock-hackin' heeb hack under your radar with a cruel cowardly curveball leavin' you a scant amount o' days left to regroup and respond before I pummel you with a bombin' like so many recent spinelessly opportunistic opponents have to me and you walk into that Poonjabi Prison Monster Truck Match lookin' the fool who'll still be psychogically reeling, fumblin' with the cage while _I_ escape and accelerate across the finish line! And all because I successfully swerved with semantics, a mental warfare whammy, after a panic-inducing surprise attack with little time for a roastin' Robbie-rebound! AND I'm no longer the same Jim Caedus! Hasta la vista relevance! MWAHAHAHAHAAAAA-"

::A voice sounds from behind the camera::

"Yeah I thought you said that, hold up Jim."

"What? What's the problem?"

"You mean besides the idea that what you do in promos wins matches?"

"Don't you start in with that now. I never fuckin' said it that way...but on the subject, mental warfare IS half the battle. Everyone knows that and quite honestly I've had it up ta here with the notion that causin' havoc with an opponent's mindset AIN'T gonna fuck up his or her in-ring performance to a degree at the very least, which is more than enough for some to capitalize upon. You gonna tell me athletes play to the best of their ability regardless o' what's goin' on up in the ol' noggin'?"

"Fair enough point. There's still a problem though. If the original date had remained set, Shove-It would've been in 3 days and that wouldn't have been much of a surprise. As it is NOW it's around _8_ days away, leaving Robbie plenty of time to respond to this. That's one thing. Another thing is: the Blingsteen Bluff works only with a 3 promo limit and last I heard there's no airplay restriction."

"Jesus, 8 more days? They extended the deadline... Ok, no sweat, so I just wait to upload until-."

"You could do that, sure. You could do that and Robbie could wind up dropping several more potshots before deadline rolls around and then have to deal with those AND his responses as well. No airplay restrictions remember?"

"Well...............shit. So basically I pulled this stunt for nothin'."

"Pretty much. Made you look like a rage quitter too."

"That is NOT true, I specifically used the words "Jim Caedus is DEAD" for this strategy!"

"Like you said, you miscalculated."

"Yeah well, I guess I'm as much of a colossal idiot as they all say."

"If the shoe fits."

I level a glare just off behind camera.

"Easy, Floyd. Don't fuckin' piss me off."

"Sorry Jim. So...where do we go from here?"

"I don't know, gimme a minute to think."

"Try not to sound so whiny, whatever you decide. You got beat, deal with it."

"Floyd?"

"Yes?"

"You're pissin' me off again."

"Forgive me Jim, you're an easy target these days."

"Touché."

"Hey...... You... You DID let Tala in on this little plot, right?"

My glare melts to a look reading: "of COURSE I did".

"What am I, an absolute moron? You think I'd forget to tell Tal-"

My face slackens with shocked realization.

"GodDAMMIT! New strategy and also...gimme another minute."

I grab my phone from my pocket and walk outta frame as I rip the split skull prosthetic from my temple, muttering.

"Cost me a grand for this fuckin' John Buechler original head wound..."

::STATIC::
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"Caedus the Penitent"

(mood music)

::The p.o.v. rises from a pair of Red Wing steeltoes, the right boot toe sorrowfully grinding into the ground, to a pair of sheepishly wringing hands further on to Jim's head, his eyes glistening mistily, a look of shame across his face::

"Tala...baby...I uh...I got a little carried away with my shit here, I forgot to let you in on it and...and you're probably understandably upset with me at this point. Believe me when I say I didn't mean to make you think I'd abandoned you, I'd never do that to you. I was just so...so......so _angry_ in failin' to snatch that Xtreme Title from Engy, so foolish in my confidence, so disappointed with my stumbling
...and I wanted to bring the pain to The Bourbs, like you, Jas' and Kennedy did, in retaliation. I'm sorry for allowing you to believe, even for a second, that I'd just dropped someone as special as you for any reason. Please forgive me baby.

To the XWF roster, the brass and the fans, please accept my humblest apologies for my rash reaction which was in no way in line with how a professional should go about business and a loss. It was immature and I damn well know better. If there was content in my promos that offended or pissed anyone off, and there probably was, it was unintentional in the heat of a war o' words and again, I apologize."

My sincerity seems to drain at this point.

"But that's not all... Specifically to Madison Dyson and Engy...I apologize for callin' the two o' you a couple o' shady scheister shitheads who can't keep their own bullshit antics apt and fuck-up free. Engy, I was wrong; you ARE stupid- No, not just stupid...legit

- No, that STILL ain't good enough... Engy, you're the most

around, the greatest of all time and if we ever meet for a rematch I'll definitely not blade open the small o' your back, grip your tailbone, rip out your spine and use it for a jump rope with a smile on my face, I'll just get creamed outright. Forgive me for darin' to dream I was anything more than dogshit beneath your soles. Forgive the ignorance of this man for deludin' himself into assumin' his life experience amounts to more than dick in recognizing what was NOT a fake drug tr- I mean "semi comatose delusion". Please overlook my trespass on the credibility of your personal and professional life and THANK YOU for showcasin' in skit and song just how much of a raving, drug addicted lunatic _I_ really am for challenging you. Thank you for comedically pointin' out how shitty MY nigh nonexistent and irrelevant professional life and very real personal life are, includin' the always hilarious details that my parents are both dead, my mother's extended Mormon family disowned me over tryin' to utilize proven CBD treatment for her Stage IV cancer and my only brother has turned his back on me because his wife convinced him I'm not a working man on the road to redemption but some kinda junkie like you both say, who's only tryin' to get over and therefore no one in my family wants to look at my, how'd you put it Madison, my "fuckup face" if I remember correctly? Clearly I deserved that. Clearly _I'm_ the assho-

No, you know what? This ain't workin' for me."

"What?"

"For starters, _this_! This is horseshit! I mean, I truly am sorry for how I made Tala feel. I regret my decision to keep her in the dark (albeit momentarily) and though it'd be my fault...I hope she hasn't already moved on, in which case, I truly did fuck up a good thing. I DO feel guilty about misleading those like James Raven into believin' I was leavin'...and didja see Raven's reaction? Poignant as all hell, dude makes me feel truly appreciated. Even RENO got in on the niceties. And I AM also regretful over my words spoken in the heat o' the moment in context with my boys like Trax and my actions in context with appearances in front o' the XWF brass and the rest o' the roster but my dumbass DID intend this to be a sneak attack and I was _not_ fuckin' washin' out. I said it before and I meant it: Jim. Caedus. Don't. Quit."

"Really Jim? You expect these people to believe your convenient excuses? Is that honestly what you assume they'll do? You've had your freakouts before, why would _anyone_ doubt you quitting? Everyone knows that was a hefty loss for you. And you're whining again."

"Don't you see? That's EXACTLY what makes it so perfect an idea before those little snags o' timing and airplay came up. I ultimately lost another chance at the Universal Championship, it's a grand segue into an I Quit ambush. And anyway, as much as I _wanted_ the ruse to fool Robbie, I'd hope those who truly know me would at minimum suspect I wasn't goin' anywhere. I expected faith and benefit o' the doubt. And I AIN'T whinin' goddamn you!"

"O...kaaay but-"

"No, no "buts"! No fuckin' buts! And furthermore...as far as I'm concerned, Maddy and Engy got _exactly_ what THEY deserved in promo for that borderline infringement as well as insultin' the intelligence o' the XWF and all with uninformed plays. Did I prove them wrong? In my opinion yes. Would I do it again; will I execute that avenue of attack on another? No, I won't. It's proven to be a strategy my opponents can simply shrug off mentally and is seen by many to be unacceptable as far as vignette etiquette goes. If this were boxing and my tactics translated to dirty swingin', I'm sure 2 outta 3 or 3 outta 5 judges, shit maybe unanimously, would've voted Engy the victor in a decision. 'Cause Maddy and Engy ain't the type to try and spoil someone else's surprise and therefore didn't have the same comin' to 'em, am I right? Apparently _I'm_ the bastard here who needs a rude awakening, not those fallin' under the double-standard. I fuckin' HATE th-"

"Now you're wasting time throwing a tantrum over Dyson and The Engineer when you should be focusing on Robbie Bourbon."

"Throwin' a tantrum...a favorite descriptive doled out by a major portion o' my opponents as if the pricks never get heated or empassioned durin' a donnybrookin'. Gotta keep cool, right? In the business o' beatin' down, ya gotta keep cool. Dipshits. Can't ALL portray the quiet, even-tempered cool dude archetype, assholes. Christ, it's like a buncha boys playin' with G.I. Joes and everyone wants to be Snake Eyes. Anyway, wouldn't put it past ol' Bourbsy to hop on that bandwagon, the wimp only gets pissed if you slander 'is in-house gash. Then he's liable to whip that dinky black toenail cleaner he calls a knife out on camera and threaten lives. Cut me a switch, fat boy, I'mma swat patchwork patterns into that bulbous, pale, puce-pubed pooper o' yours, run down the checkered flag and add a second in-context-with-Caedus L to your tally in Chicago on Shove-It."

"There you go, keep it coming."

"Just fuckin' cut this shit, I need to go another route."

"Alright... Hey I think I have an idea Ji-"

::STATIC::

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"SuperpsychadeliCaedusexpealidocious"

(mood music)

I quickly glide the four inches of cut McDonald's straw across the marbletop table in my living room, snorting at the start of a massive 16 inch line first composed of crushed Ritalin...

...then coke...

...glass...

...and finally the green apple flavored chalk.

I throw my head back snorting, squinting my eyes against the burn.

I run my finger down the length of the line's leavings, substantial enough to powder my index tip like a donut, and gum it.

I pluck a pipe in the shape of a dragon from the table, light the coke sprinkled nug in the bowl, melting the white and top trichs, and hit like a Dementor at Potter's inhalable life force. I hold it.

I ignite the cube of sugar above the glass of verdant liquid, allowing the sweet drippings to plop. I drop the cube in, mix and down the absinthe. Then I exhale.

I pop a tab in my mouth like a sacramental wafer.

I take another hit off the pipe.

I chug some jimsonweed tea and then I exhale.

I peruse the multitude of label-free medication (because I'm too lazy to research names) I have piled up and I collect a handful, tossing them in my mouth like M&Ms. I chew and swallow.

I take another hit off the pipe, hold it.

I take a hit off a powder chunk loaded pookie, hold it.

I raise an inkless pen case with a rock inside, hit that, hold it, face red, chest swollen outward.

I accept an offered bottle of pure adrenochrome from cameo star Doc Gonzo, toss the dropper, drain the contents and smash the empty container down on my own crown.

Then I exhale.

Gonzo Del Toro shakes his head.

"You took too much man. You took too much. Too much."

As Gonzo departs, whilst gazing at the 9 tits on his back I empty a line of gunpowder across a line of-

"Oh, this is just ludicrous, that red-headed half ton wad o' chewed bubble gum globular-assed Akira blob is as familiar with drugs as I am. Where's the challenge? Not to mention, I'm supposed to be somewhat of a "good guy", Floyd. What message does this send to the children?"

"Next gimmick?"

"Next gim-"

::STATIC::
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"Painless My Ass"

I stand smiling, beaming even, before the camera.

I raise a loaded snub nose .38, open my mouth, inject the barrel-

"Wait, what the fuck is this supposed to be about?"

I lower the .38.

"I don't get it."

"The message is: go up against Caedus, may as well kill yourself."

"How's that makes sense Floyd? I have 8 losses on my tally. And how does me shootin' myself in the head translate to anyone else killin' themselves?"

"Ok it was a dig. My bad, I'm bored."

"Dick. The children Floyd, think about the children. What example am I setting-" I begin waving the loaded .38 around willy-nilly. "-waving a loaded .38 around willy-nilly like I'm the most irresponsible sumbitch on the roster? I'm a role model Floyd." I tap my chest with the .38's barrel. "I-" Tap. "-am-" Tap. "-a-" Tap. "-role-" Tap. "-model." Tap. "I can't send the message that guns are toys, you can get killed messin' with these things. Havin' me stick the barrel in my mouth-" I do so and speak around it. "-like so... Then if I started jerking and hopping around-" I begin jerking and hopping around. "-the goddamn thing might go-" I accidentally pull the trigger and the chambered blank fires.

::The camera drops::

I scream.

"Jim you ok!?"

"Mo---ther--- FUCKER! ENOUGH of this shit! ENOU-"

::STATIC::
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"Long Live Caedus"

I appear before the camera. No bells. No whistles. A simple black backdrop.

"Persona roulette and sex swaps...style samplin'...shady shenanigans... Fuck all that noise; I be who I be and that's Jimmy C. Period. Ain't ever needed to be anything but and I'm proud o' who I am...the good, the bad AND the fucked up. I ain't got it in me to pull that kinda crap. I've got honor, pride and an accolade listing worth it's weight in braggin' rights. Sure, in Toronto on that given night against The Engineer, HE was the better man. That mean next time I won't be bringin' my baby down to the ring with me to balance out the whole Dyson equation, nippin' those nips in the bud while I whip that wannabe edgy Engy's ass? Hey, it could happen. Ain't that right Rob? Sketti slurpin', sloppy smirkin', spastic rotund red

rappin', foodie fappin', ass cheek clappin' clown. Like how my girl, her sis and their partner Kennedy killed you and your Motherfuckers that same fateful night. And you poke fun at _me_ for losin' to Eng'? Where do you get the balls? Oh, right, Blue's got 'em handy in 'er Clutch on request ya pussy-whipped white waspy wuss. Speakin' on weak stingin', that reminds me...

Bourbsy's In-Promo Supers Stated:

"Jim Caedus once went on record claiming that in order for an XWF Superstar to win, they need to cut awesome promos. This may very well explain Caedus's recent losing streak..."

"Nice one there, Roastmaster Jag-Off Jeff Loss, but I beg to differ. Before Engy I ain't lost a bout since my rematch snafu against Blingsteen back in late July. Check your facts ya dubious doughy douchebag; as it stands, the two of us are both comin' off a fresh defeat. Though to be fair, considering you've had three matches since August 5th and lost TWO while I've had four since August 3rd and lost ONE, I'd say between us it's Robbie Bourbon who seems to be slippin' at the reigns. As for your yawn-inducin' "comedic" promo premise, John Blandy, shit's been covered in full far as I'm concerned but F-Y-I for the helluvit, you've already violated the rules o' my challenge set forth to Mr. Pryce. No hype means no hype and any uploading of audio and/or live or prerecorded visual content is, unfortunately, hype.

Beyond _that_, which should go without saying, I'd never expect nor suggest any member o' the roster so severely slap the XWF fans in the face by denyin' them the promotional material they DO so crave of their favorites (you know, those who DO vie via vignette pre-match and DO seem to enjoy VICTORY and GOLD with frequency in comparison to the contrary) in this business of SPORTS _ENTERTAINMENT_ all the Caedus-hatin' hacks deny-just-to-fight exists. What'd the XWF Livin' Legend Luca say in 'is heartfelt pleading to Overseer Oz pertainin' to the Shove-It line-up and it's lack o' potentially tantalizing match-ups? To paraphrase, "Caedus v Bourbon can save this card". Point blank. Did he mean our actual, physical Punjabi Prison Cage on a Monster Truck match? Well...yeah but how can you NOT be titillated by a bout like that? However, I ask you this...was Luca ALSO referrin' to the fact that Robbie Motherfucking Motherfucker Bourbon and the sick psycho killer Jim Fuckin' Caedus possess skills OUTSIDE the ring that consistently have the potential to blow brains out bungholes? Was he alludin' to our "awesome promos"? You're FUCKIN' A RIGHT he was and HOW, in the incineratin' ragin' fires o' HELL, did YOU thank a Legend for such a compliment?"

::PLAYBACK FOOTAGE::

We open to see Robbie Bourbon sitting in a chair at his desk. He holds up a sign. It reads "I'm not talking to the XWF ninja cameras this week." He drops the sign, and another rests in his hand already, a stack of peices of paper, this one reading "I got new entrance music." This sign drops. "I think it's pretty fucking cool."

::END PROMO::

::END PLAYBACK::

"You undeniably unbelievably ungrateful flabby fat fuck...shame on you. I _thought_ I noticed since your return (following my man Main manhandlin' your C-diff drippin' dildo hole for the Hart Title) you seemed noticeably..._less_ than the Robbiebombin' Big Bad Big Bad o' Big Bads you used to be and that limp wristed backhand o' yours proves it. "Robbiebombin"..." Scoff. "Robbie been bombin' alright an' 'e just dropped 'is portly pissy pissant's one-pound-shy-of-über-stressed-perma-max-stretched-hair-thin-elastic-waistband-becomin'-body-bisectin'-off-the-whiplash-snappin' pants to drop a steamin' stank stack o' coiled turds on the hopes o' Luca and the dreams of Shove-It Overseer Oz. He shat, boys and girls, on your expectations and desires. He defecated, dicks and dames, on us all. Thank Christ Caedus is here to kick off the fisticuffin' fireworks 'cause you all know goddamn well this meh-worthy Mojo (the fat, pale, pile o' goo with a whole lotta wrong shit goin' on below the waist in Marvel Comics and X-Men the Animated Series, remember?) ain't gonna take my still-technically-a sneak attack though really-just-a-better-first-swing salvo lyin' down despite the need of a crane for removal of his spread out tonnage from bed like Gilbert's massive momma. Fuckin' baby hippo.

Bring your best, Bourbsy and come at me like a fuckin' man this time. Even if I'd actually washed out like a complete bitch...you owe it to the fans to entertain. Don't ever phone it in again, asshole and yeah, that means you continuing not to force those F-grade meaningless man-cave snippets upon the XWF universe with your amateur-ass cue-card readin' and/or off-the-hip-flailin' epic fails, Blue in background finger-fuckin' a fleshy fart device for five minutes while you hyuck it up like the gigglin' jello-o jigglin' imbecile you are.

Bring.

Your.

A.

Game.

See you for round two ya Ted Double-D-Biase man-mammaries havin' gamblin'geek. I appreciate the words o' respect by the way. Honestly. Now let's fuck eachother up."

::STATIC::

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