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Cadryn Tiberius · **04-12-2017, 05:51 PM**

Back in the saddle again..

Thunder rumbles in the distance accompanied by a strike of lightning. Gray clouds blanket the sky, soon to give way to a fresh rain. The wind blows soft in the distance, rustling the shutters on a small ranch style home. Made from love and sacrifice, the small home sits prominently on the forefront of 3 acres of land.

As the storm draws near, we see a man step through the door and onto the porch of his home. He stands about 5’10/5’11, and looks to be about 200lbs or so. His long dirty blonde hair blows in the wind, like a scene from an old western.

This beautifully sculpted Adonis sits down in the handmade rocking chair that adorns his porch. He begins rocking back and forth slowly, to the rhythm of the oncoming storm. As the thunder begins to rumble louder and louder, we see a medium size dog come from around the back of the house to join his master on the porch. As the rain begins to pour, we hear him begin conversing with his companion.

Cadryn: Well, Alexcia, it's just about time. As my hiatus draws to an end, I'm forced to reimagine a life with less meaning than what we've built for ourselves out here. The XWF is plagued with men and women who want nothing but the worst for a man like me. All I ever wanted out my career was to win a few matches and to make a few good friends along the way. Well, as luck would have it, girl, I've done both.

Alexcia begins wagging her tail and licking Cadryn's hand as he pets the top of her head gently.

Cadryn: Or, at least I thought I had done both..

As the storm settles above their position, Cadryn smiles before letting out a long, drawn out, sigh.

Cadryn: I've made quite a few mistakes in my life. Some I choose to embrace and learn from, and others I choose to repress as best I can.

Cadryn reaches deep into his shirt pocket and pulls out a pack of Marlboro Reds and a light blue lighter. Carefully he pulls a single cigarette from the pack and presses it between his lips. He draws the lighter close to the cigarette and lights it, inhaling just enough to get it started, before exhaling the smoke. Slow and steady clouds of smoke begin to form around him.

Cadryn: I feel it's time that I wipe my slate clean. With that being said, there are a few things I need to get off my chest to expedite this process.

#1 - My sexual orientation. Let's be clear, I'm a straight male who is attracted to females. Everything that you think you know about me and who I am, is wrong. My entire career in the XWF so far has been a comedy routine. I love to make people laugh and to bring joy to the lives of those who are essentially joyless. So in essence, I purposely put myself in situations that forced you to question my sexuality and my overall credibility as a sane, heterosexual, male. And before you make homophobic, lackluster comments, Natalie is my wife. I've been married for six wonderful years, to a woman who has been by me through everything. I wouldn't trade her for the world. I never felt inclined to share this information for fear of her safety, and also, it would have ruined my entire routine. But that is the truth behind the lie.

#2 - My Mother. My mother was a wonderful person who did everything in her power to supply me with the intelligence, the fortitude, and the passion to succeed in life. My mother never molested me. What kind of sick, depraved, asshole would actually believe that? All of you, that's who. Regardless, my mother is still alive and well back in our home state of West Virginia. As I said previously, my father wasn't around. To clarify, it is because he was a long haul truck driver and did what he had to do to ensure our survival. My father is now retired and spends all of his time worrying about my mother, and so forth.

#3 - Chris Chaos. I'm not going to go in to detail, son. But if there is one thing you need to understand, its that what goes around comes around, partner. You've done nothing but cause me pain and misery, and I assure you, I will rectify the situation, and damn quick, too. I suggest you watch your back, because you're the first person I'm gunning for after I take care of Graves and Main upon my return. You wanna run around the locker room and act like you're some kind of big shot because you can ambush people, and cheap shot anyone you see fit. Well, those days are over, slugger. If you think that Graves took you to your limits, just imagine what I will do. You write me off as a scrub, but you don't know me. You disrespectful little cock jockey. Don't fall forward, I'd hate to see Lane's dick impale you right before you get what's coming to you.

#4 - Michael Graves. My “Gravy”. A name so drenched in homoeroticy that Elton John wouldn't say it aloud for fear of being called gay. You were my best friend. I use the term “were” very loosely, because I'm unsure where we stand at the moment. I underestimated our friendship and your commitment to it. You did everything in your power to contact me over the course of the past few weeks, and I've done the complete opposite. I truly am sorry. There is a force at play here that you could never understand. This place, this land, that I call home, it has always been my safe haven. When everything comes to a halt, I retreat. And that's what I had to do, Michael. You did your best to protect me, but you failed. Week after week you swore to me that you had my back, but in my time of need you were nowhere to be found. Through multiple attacks from Chris Chaos to having my hand shattered with a hammer by Peter Gilmour, you failed me. I trusted you, I did my best to have your back, and the end result was always the same. Pain. Regret. Embarrassment. These are what I felt time and time again. And for that I can never forgive you. Be that as it may, I imagine you'll be less than remorseful, as always. To clear the air, I didn't abandon Dolly like you and the rest of the XWF believe. From my point of view, she was the victor. She didn't need a partner, the briefcase was hers. I wasn’t going to take this route, but it appears as though whatever it was that we had, is over. So with that being said, let me tell you what I’ve been thinking since you got me injured the first time, asshole. First of all, you’re old as all get out. You wear a medical diaper and shit your pants every three steps you take. You've got one hair on your head, and you spike it up every morning with LA Looks Gel. Well, by hair I mean that fucked up fagotty fixup compliments of Miss Cleo’s hair salon. But, I'll save you a trip, man. I can tell you your future. Your future is full of even more sadness than currently revolves around your pathetic excuse for a secondary run in the XWF. You’ve said multiple times before that I can’t commit, or that I start strong and then flake out at the last second. Which isn’t even remotely true, by the way. But, dude, you couldn't even find your way to the arena and got beat by Killjoy of all people. At least I've lost to a credible, respected wrestler in Big Dick Daddy Caedus. You and Main should consider letting him fight for you, that way you actually have a chance. You’re like a shitty backup singer. All you want to do is ride my coattails as you’ve been doing for months. You were content standing in my shadow, and letting me do all the work, while you reaped all the rewards. Well, those days are over, Jerry Only. Oh, and for the record, The Misfits suck. Get a better makeup artist, dude.

#5 - Robert Main. Dude, you look like a white man's James Brown. What in the holy fuck is up with that 1970’s Jerry Curl hairstyle you’re rocking? There’s enough palmade in that bitch to suffocate a small animal. You look like you went to the first round of Rambo auditions and failed. That would explain the plastic machine gun, the dumbass aviators, and the overall ensemble that completes the “Do it yourself: Douche Kit.” You need to get the fuck on, and I mean like yesterday, dude. If Robbie Bourbons fatass had shown any type of fortitude and actually put forth any type of effort, that Hart Title wouldn’t be anywhere near your greasy ass. You idiots need to understand that all the games, the bullshit, the stupid comedy routine, it’s over. I’m about as serious as a heart attack, champ. I’m the shit kickin, wig splittin, dick givin, motherfucker ya’ll mama’s tried to warn you about. And what the hell is Ax3, anyways? Is it short for “axe” and y’all are so dumb you thought the 3 was a capital E? Or is it more like “Autistic, Autistic, Autistic”? I would bet that it’s probably the latter. Robmo, see what I did there? It’s like Rambo, but more low budget, and poorly written. But, Robmo, you’re the same twat that lost to Gilmour and Graves in Lethal Lottery, aren’t you? Dude, you couldn’t beat Gilmour, and that dudes a total washout. The last time I saw a more decorated

was the last time I went to the special Olympics. You see, boys, not only have I dropped the shit-tastic routine that I was so tied up in, I’ve also done one better. The brief hiatus only stood to remind me that the XWF universe is obsessed with me. From my winning record, to my rugged, manly appearance. Which by the way, I’d ask ya’ll to come out here on the farm and help me, but my wife is fresh out of tampons, and I don’t need y’all bleeding all over my new truck. As I was saying, the XWF loves me. And as it stands, they hate all of y’all. I’m like the savior of the XWF. I’m here to rid the company of has beens and never was’s like yourselves. Ain’t nobody trying to pay to see a bunch of ugly ass dudes, rushing to the ring on their rascals like some kind of fucked up Shriner’s Parade. All I’m saying, Robmo, is that you’d better hope lady luck is lingering, leaving you with nothing but a little lump on your lip. Because for all of the bullshit that Graves put me through, I’m going to unload on you just as hard.

Boys, I’m really a nice guy. If you were hard up, I’d offer you the shirt of my back. I’d offer you a spot at my table for supper, and my wife and I would put you up for as long as you needed. This is all just business. After I carry that no name MJ, RJ, DJ, whatever the hell his name is to victory on Savage, all three of y’all are more than welcome to come on over to the house and have a beer. Hell, I’ll even show take ya out to the barn, and give you a few pointers. Remember the movie “No Country For Old Men”? Well, aint no hip replacements for old men, either. So make sure you get a doctor's release before Savage. I ain’t got that accidental death coverage.

The skies begin to clear, giving way to sunshine. Cadryn stands from his rocking chair and begins walking off of the porch and towards the field near his house. Alexcia sits patiently until Cadryn motions her to follow.

(To be continued..)

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