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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Turning Point PPV
Wake the Fuck Up
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#MemeQueen Luca Torchwick Offline
Waves don't die.



XWF FanBase:
Women and gay men

(physically attractive male on every level; can seduce you; that disarming smile; those bedroom eyes)


#1
01-23-2015, 11:32 PM

One night.

One match.

One subsequent week long cocaine binge.

Also known as Luca's life since Madness. Granted, this likely would've been his life even if he were never even contacted about the match in question, though there was a bit of melancholy in his actions. His sluggishness, despite being on cocaine of all drugs. His demeanor, though unpleasant in the best of circumstances was radically different in the days following the loss. Lost was his spark. Instead, he stumbled through the seven days and who knows how much coke in a daze. In his lethargic state; he spent most of each day staring blankly at the ceiling, muttering some bullshit in Spanglish to himself. So, finally, I decide to fucking do something about my (de facto) best friend's condition.

"What the fuck's your problem?"

Right. Start all confrontational and shit. This is the way to break through to him. I think. Probably. Matter of fact the more I think about it this was a horrible idea. And I guess starting a conversation off like that wasn't too smart either ayyyy oh right I'm not saying any of this out loud so why the fuck am I continuing to think this like it's going to be heard? I shake my head, trying to clear that train of thought as he turns his attention from the ceiling to me. His eyes are dark and drooping, like his bags have bags which themselves have bags, and his stubble game is far from on point. It's somewhere between stubble and a bead, but not quite either. Dried blood circles his nostrils. There's also dried blood crusted on his skin because he hasn't bothered to throw on a shirt in like three days. Which, also means he smells like sweat and halitosis, the most appealing of scents combined.

"The fuck are you on?"

Of course, he deflects the question away from himself and to me because he doesn't want to admit that he's a fucking wreck. Well, more of one than usual.

"Nothing right now."

"That's the problem! Snort some shit or something."

I sigh.

"No, I don't think I will. Not until you stop moping about like a fucking pussy."

"Alright puta? Got somethin' to fuckin' say?"

Luca gingerly swings his legs out over the edge of the couch and stands up on wobbly legs. He shakes his head to, I don't fucking know why, and stumbles over to me with his fists barely raised.

"Say that shit to my face, cunt."

"Alright. You're acting like a pussy. Come on! Getting all depressed and emo and shit over a loss? Whose camerawoman am I again? Luca Arzegotti's or Vinnie Lane's?"

"Don't you ever compare me to that ."

"Don't act like him, then. Jesus, put your fucking hands down. You're embarrassing yourself."

He raises his arms higher.

"I ain't embarrassed."

"Yeah, well, you should be. It's kinda pathetic."

He mimics what I just said. Not by repeating the words out of my mouth but by making noises in the same cadence as what I said. Real mature, Luca. Fucking gold star.

"What's the fuckin' big deal if I decided to lay around after the match anyway? Have I not fuckin' earned that right for holding the XWF up on my back for as long as I had been?"

"You defensive fuck, it's not about that. It's all this pity party bullshit. The lack of drive. Hell, by this time any other week you'd have brought at least two crack whores back, or a surprisingly hot Denny's waitress or something, and I'd be sitting there acting asleep listening to you fuck while secretly touching myself."

Yeesh, I need a mental filter.

"The fuck was that last part, eh?"

"Nothing. Seriously though. You've lost your fuckin' mojo and you haven't done shit since getting back in. You got this match with TJ Wallace at the Pay-Per-View and I'll be damned before you go out there looking like a pussy. Get yourself cleaned up, we're going somewhere."

"Where we goin', amigo?"

"Don't worry about it."

"We aren't going on a crime spree in the guise of training again are we?"

"Wasn't what I had in mind but that could work."

"Yeah, no. Ain't too keen on that shit. Don't wanna get shot today. Maybe tomorrow, chica."

"Pussy."

"Puta."

He spits, before shuffling off toward the bathroom.

About thirty minutes later, we're sitting at motherfuckin' Denny's. Luca, myself, and Luca's newly hired legal counsel, Dennis Stein. Dennis is a smug looking snake of a man, roughly forty years old. Balding, wearing a stiff, cheap looking three piece suit, he takes off his glasses for a second to wipe away some sweat pooling up on his brow with one of the napkins at our table.

"So, why was I called here today?" he asks, glaring at me.

"Well, mang. Looks like I'm bout to be having another match in the XWF, against one of the guys I faced in my last match. TJ motherfuckin' Wallace."

"And this concerns me, how?"

"Because I'm gonna kill that bitch."

"Well, I don't think I need to advise you against that. I like to think you're smart enough to know the legal shitstorm you can get in for killing a guy at a televised wrestling event."

"Nah mang, it's all cool. It's on Pay-Per-View. Totes legal."

"No, it isn't."

"Fine, shit man. Don't let me have any fun why don't ya? What's next? You gonna say I can't snort coke? This is fucking America mang, the land of opportunity. If I wanna get my dick sucked by some blond college chick while I snort a line of coke out of the asshole of another blond college chick, I fucking can and I have mang. Shit was tight. Took a couple photos of the girls, I'll send them to ya on the DL. Mark that shit NSFW and whatnot. But also, if I wanna fucking massacre TJ Wallace and leave his fucking lifeless corpse for the crows, win all the Brown Pride, and then rail the fuckin' dyke he rescued from obscurity, I'll do that too and there ain't no law that'll stop me, mang. AMERICA, FUCK YEAH!"

Luca pounds on the table to emphasize his point while Stein shushes him.

"Very little of what you said is actually legal, I hope you realize that."

"Um, yes it is. I hire you to make sure it's okay for me to do that shit. I kinda have money therefore I am above the law. Motherfuckin' America, mang. Gotta love it."

Stein rubs his temples with his middle fingers, which elicits a smile from me.

"Whatever. Anything else you wanna say about this guy, or are you finished? Because right now, everyone's staring at you."

"Yeah, I got some shit to say. This motherfucker's gonna be walking around with that win over the Team I was begged to save as if that's some personal victory. Like he pinned my ass or some shit when it was Lane who pinned Maverick. Come on mang, you're gonna have to actually do something to earn any kind of recognition from me and you ain't done any of that shit. Fuck, what has the dude even accomplished anyway? Again, I'm this fuckin' old timer, washed up loser and shit and what does TJ have to show for his time in the XWF? A big whopping plate of absolutely fucking nothing? Ding ding fucking ding! Exactly! The dude's done absolutely jack shit since showing up and it ain't for lack of opportunities. Shit, this puta's had more undeserved opportunities than a woman in the workplace. Hell, maybe the dude is, on top of being a white person painted brown, a fuckin' chica. Shit, wouldn't surprise me considering she's been responsible for Liz Hathaway's sudden reemergence. Speaking of old names, though that's one I'm pretty sure everyone forgot. Because, like Teej here, she didn't do much of anything either. They're perfect together! They can do more nothing than I do, despite me being a part timer. Jesu Christo, that's embarrassing. But hey, what else can we expect from the guy who uses the term shitfalcon unironically. Hell, not even Irony would do that shit ironically and doing things ironically was his whole fucking shtick. What's yours, mang? Loudmouthed, minstrel dyke? Shit, that's a little too intense to be you, anyway.

But what do I know? I'm just a has been who no one cares about anymore.

Still better than a never will be who no one will ever care about."


"You done?"

"No, but I can keep going all fucking day. And the next day. And the next."

"It's true," I interject. "It's also really fucking annoying but true nonetheless."

"Puta you're annoying. I'm more lovable than Jesus. PEOPLE LIKE ME MORE THAN THEY LIKE THEIR LORD AND FUCKING SAVIOR!"

Once again, he pounds the fucking table and everyone in the Denny's cheers. Seriously? One of the guys shouts from a few tables away, asking if he can get some of the pictures Luca took of those two blond bitches.

"Hell yeah mang, I'm all about sharing the love. Brown Pride Worldwide!"

A silence comes over the crowd. They take a look at Luca, before shrugging their shoulders and going with it.

I swear, I will never understand this guy.

"You ready for this match?" I whisper over to him.

"Fuck yeah I am!" he whispers back.

Well, fuck it. Mission accomplished.

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