Continued from Correcting Failure: The Mental... Pt. One...

Staring off at the blood stained walls, nothing making any sense. What is going on, where am I, who am I, and who are they? Thinking to myself while my drool pool soaking through my boxer briefs so bad my balls and shlong are perfectly visible. For some reason, I get the feeling of scratching the two balls attached to my body? Yeah, body is the correct word usage, what is going on with my brain. Shaking my head like I am slowly forgetting everything I ever once knew even, words or what thinks where. Amazing how much life changes when there is direct trauma to the brain. Kind of like how Jim Caedus’ life will change after I deliver traumatic blows to his head! My fingers start to wiggle slightly in both of my hands. When suddenly a voice speaks.

Father Slathe: “Ms. Nichols quickly more juice, he is gaining motor skills again. Mr. Tidbits must have grown more immune to the serum and shock treatment. Hit him five more times quickly dammit!”

Startled not understanding what communication with words is anymore. I begin to shake back and forth trying to break free from my restraints once again. Not knowing I had already tried before my brain was fried by a sperm-killing amount of electricity. That is soon going to happen again. Ms. Nichols nods her head in agreement while grasping the lever and staring straight into my soul through my mask. Slamming it down, up, down, up, repeatedly with a grimacing smirk.

ZZZZZZZZZTTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

ZZZZZZZZZTTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

ZZZZZZZZZTTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

ZZZZZZZZZTTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

ZZZZZZZZZTTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

As my body stops pulsating from the electroshock to the brain, I stare off like a brain dead vegetable. Ms. Nichols begins flashing a light in my eyes my pupils completely dilated. She turns to Father Slathe and nods’ confirming the reboot is ready to be conducted. Father Slathe in a surgeon's attire steps toward my body, I am aware of none of this. A small surgical drill in hand. Gently he squeezes the trigger as he draws it closer to my mask and skull. Quickly and swiftly he drills three teensy tiny holes into my skull. Ms. Nichols then proceeds to slowly slide some small tubes and wires through the holes to my brain. After many hours of surgery the two finish with smiles on their faces.

Father Slathe then pulls out a laptop and places it on my lap. As his fingers begin to tap, tap, tapitty, tap, tap at the keyboard. Suddenly motion pictures begin to play inside my head, imprints, specially selected memory imprints. Hand chosen by Father Slathe himself to make my mentality easier to control and command, so I will be his perfect weapon. While uploading the first memory, Slathe chuckles out loud then speaks to Ms. Nichols.

Father Slathe: “With the memories Mr. Tidbits is going to be given, he will be the perfect killing tool. No one or nothing will be able to match his abilities. It is almost like we are toying with faith ourselves Ms. Nichols, doesn’t the feeling of such control feel amazing?”

Ms. Nichols: “Sorry Father you must forgive me, I have never looked at it like that before. I’ve always looked at the work I do for The Truth to keep The Truth safe and alive.”

Father Slathe just laughs and presses enter on his keyboard. My body begins to tremble a little before it completely slams back into the chair. My eyes widen and a memory begins to play as if I was watching it from an outer body experience...

My eight year old self is running around the old rundown crack whore motel somewhere in Michigan. One of the many that my mother and I had lived out of, this one particularly stood out. It was the first time one of my “Uncles” put his hands on me. Watching myself run around the parking lot while my “Uncle” and Mother had adult time in our room. Almost every night for many of years I spent most my time running around parking lots, playing in dumpsters, and just using my imagination. Pretending I was somewhere else far, far away. Suddenly my eight-year-old self lost all hope for the power of imagination. As I was bitched slapped back to reality from an older Italian gentleman. You know one of those very Guido like short sloppy meatballs. His hairy knuckles dragged across my child face. Leaving instant knuckle prints across my face and knocking me to the cold hard pavement, Uncle Guido Balls then grabs my hair and begins dragging me toward the room kicking and screaming.

Once inside the room my face is met with a flurry of spaghetti and fish smelling fists, which dots my eyes, and leaves me looking like a raccoon. Uncle Guido Balls then lifts me by the throat choking the life right out of me. Waiting until I turn purple before walking me toward the bathroom door, all while my mother laid on the bed cracked and fucked out of her mind. Uncle Guido Balls throws me across the bathroom into the tub my head bangs off the ceramic edge. Blood begins to trickle down my eight year old face from a gash across my forehead. My older and outer body self attempts to charge at Uncle Guido Balls but nothing happens. Besides I continue watching Uncle Guido Balls assault myself years ago. His next move he lifts me from the tub and tosses me next to the toilet where he rips my shirt from my torso.

Pointing in the bowl viciously, scared and unsure what to do. I look into the bowl to see a nasty fully loaded calzone shit sprayed amongst the porcelain god. His greasy stank hand smacks me in the side of the head and then he points to the toilet paper roll that is empty. Slowly he drops his boxers and begins wiping his ass with my shirt, before tossing it in the trash. Uncle Guido Balls’ hand then grasps the back of my head as he slams me face down into the shit filled toilet bowl. Everything came rushing back from all the horrors I had to endure because of my shitty mother’s life style. Many as bad and even worse than one of her John’s slapping me around a bit and giving me a shit stained swirly...

Father Slathe continues loading memories like the first followed by memories of Father Slathe always helping and saving Mr. Tidbits from a life full of hardship. Finishing with the last memory Father Slathe closes his laptop; Ms. Nichols and Father Slathe begin removing the tubes and wires from my brain. As my body is limp and motionless, monitor connected to my heart reads normal.

End Scene.
--------------------------------------------------

Fade In...

A camera hangs off a robotic arm from the ceiling of the TD Garden in Boston, Massachusetts. The arena is bare; it is the night before Savage. Two dark figures in the darkness, one stands in the center of the ring while the other looks to be on all fours or crouched. The lights begin to flicker slowly, the pace grows faster and faster. Then the lights black out once again like originally. A faint light beams down on the taller figure revealing Father Slathe holding a tow chain in his hand. The light follows the chain to the clamp that rests tightly around my neck, the new, rejuvenated Mr. Tidbits. My head slightly tilts to the right as the light slowly works its way back up the chain to Father Slathe who is now smiling and removing a cigar from his lips.

Father Slathe: “Why hello there XWF Universe been awhile since Mr. Tidbits has made an appearance. No worries as you have already seen if you are watching, he is here tonight. Inside the very ring that will hold three men in battle for the Television Title, he will be one of those men. You sheep are in for a world of entertainment, for the first time ever; Mr. Tidbits will show just exactly what my treatment and the Swamp of Life and Death can give. You sheep have been tortured week in and week out, not that we don’t mind torture. It is just the torturer is whom we have the problem with. Jim Caedus a scrub thug for Chris Chaos now. I know right isn’t it kind of a slap in his own face?

Hopefully The Truth is starting to shine light on more of the XWF universe. We revealed Chris Chaos for the false Champion he was. Now it is time for The Truth to show the XWF sheep exactly how much Jim and Chris are alike. Both men long reigning champions, both men not as dominate as they pretend and believe to be. Both men will have loses to my pet Mr. Tidbits. Jim Caedus wears the Television Championship, but is he really the Television the people want? I don’t believe it, maybe when he was dropping bodies on his own, not now though. Not now that he is acting like his shit bird stable mates, jumping people, acting like a buffoon, and pretending it is all because they are cocky? Well over the many years of my life that kind of attitude is only created out of being afraid. Afraid of failure, well when you do fail my children, we all do at one point. The Truth will be here to grasp your hand and raise you to your feet again.

XWF Universe I plead with you. Do not fall into the sinful ways of Ax3 and believe in their dominance. Stand high and unit and we will cast these fools to the abyss! With your faith and the strength of your prayer Htaed’s chosen warrior can and will clash with a great warrior and another who once was. The clash will ignite the storm of Htaed and soon our God will return. Please followers of The Truth I come tonight with my pet, your Champion, Htaed’s Champion to ask for your energy. Feed Htaed with prayer fill Mr. Tidbits fists with the strength to smite the disbelievers. Every last believer must watch tomorrow night at home or here in the arena and focus on our creator Htaed.

If you all do this you will see the power of Htaed in this very ring. The skill, the violence, the power, and the depravedness of Htaed will be displayed through the actions of Mr. Tidbits. Our hope to being recognized and treated as a religion of acceptance rests in the hands of Mr. Tidbits as well as the souls of all The Truth’s followers. Tomorrow at Savage is our time, the time The Truth spreads like a wild fire. The time for Ax3 to realize they can’t just walk around doing whatever the hell they desire without consequences. Now all the debt that is owed will not be paid for with just the blood of Caedus, oh no, this will just be the beginning. With our hero Mr. Tidbits fully recovered and with a complete and new outlook on things, I do believe we have nothing to worry about. To all you believers out there keep on believing and you sinners, well soon enough The Truth will set you free!”

The lights flash back to myself I have now been circling around Father Slathe like a trained attack dog. His treatment really shook things up in my brain. Stopping in front of him I begin to growl and grunt toward the camera as the lights blackout again.

Fade Out.