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JimCaedus · (08-02-2017)

(responding to McCoy's & Gilly's remaining vignettes)

::FADE IN::

It's lightly sprinkling on the channel today.

Fuck it. I love the rain, always have. Anything that can affect the moods of millions, washin' away their smiles, cloudin' over the light o' positivity in their eyes, a deluge o' doldrums...that's my shit.

The gentle current rocks the Crestliner as I bait the hook of my fishing pole.

"Legends, Little Fish & a Big Dick"

I give a sidelong glance to the lens-

"Legends."

-before returning my gaze to the baited hook.

"Peter F'n Gilmour is a legend 'round here, despite what Travis McCoy would have you believe, contrary to the seemingly never endin' hecklin' he receives on a weekly basis. True, he may not be representative o' what makes a staggeringly successful Universal Champion, and, in fact, neither am I thus far...but he IS a staple, a mainstay and a LEGEND in the XWF.

I can attest to this Legend's ability in the ring. He DID, as he stated, take me to the limit in our previous bout, a steel cage match, and in the end it took my own life-threateningly potentially terminal cannonball off the cage's summit to attain victory before Gilly could hit the floor first. I DO respect you, Gilly, I always have. I always will.

Respect, however, won't stop me from flambéin' you and that fantastically colossal chip on your shoulder, shatterin' your dreams o' domination over a man who can take LEGENDS to THEIR limits...and deliver decisive defeat."

Satisfied, I cast my line out over the water. The weighted baited hook hits the surface with a ::KAPLOONK::

"Pete, I apologize our wires- well, _your_ wires, seem to have gotten crossed over the whole idea o' teamin' together. If you recall, I, durin' the darkest hour of Ax3, predictin' the stable's eventual destruction, agreed to jump sinkin' ship for the opportunity to see how far a Legend and a Star Killer could take it. That was ages, swerves, 30 backhanded post-match complaints and a close-call near rage quit ago though...and until now, I hadn't heard any word in context."

I chance removing my left hand from the pole's grip to hold my index and thumb up to the camera, bowed nearly to contact, a mere few millimeters space between the fingerprints.

"THIS close, Gilly. If you'd spoken to me before Micheal Graves completely turned me off to the concept o' TRUSTIN' a teammate, we coulda been combinin' our efforts on McCoy in a hilariously two-on-one rip roarin' ring reamin' but alas, that ship has sailed. You're gonna hafta settle for me tryin' to knock the memory o' the last few months outta your noggin' so's I can score a schoolboy roll up for the 3 count the moment you take AAAAAALL o' that I-told-you-not-to-give-in-to-peer-pressure pudge in and scream, "When the FUCK did I get fat again!?"

I return my left grip to the pole. It's always been hefty and long enough to require two hands.

"Speakin' of amusin' "my dick's been this size since I came out my momma" masterpiece Gilly quotables...

"Last time we went to the limit. I almost had you beat for the Universal Title but you eeked out by the skin of your teeth. But this time you won't be so lucky. I am stronger than last time and like I told Thomas, I am coming to win and I will do everything and everything to win."

Pete, you are goin' to lose and are doin' everything and everything to lose.

I wanna believe you're callin' Travis _Thomas_ 'cause you're fuckin' with the lil' loser nobody. It gets difficult to pretend, and I mean to a mother's Jimmy-just-got-caught-hittin'-the-pookie-in-front-o'-me-but-he's-no-junkie level o' self-delusion, that you aren't nursin' an already fast approachin' goldfish type recall ability pertainin' to certain matters. Our match was a non-title match, Gilly. Non-title. Don't poke fun at 'im folks, dementia at the 4 decade mark is sad and deserves the utmost of patience and sympathy...

Shame on me. I'm gonna look like such a prick when I exploit your clearly fadin' mental faculties in Edinburgh Castle and crack your head open like an egg. I ain't about patience and sympathy, I'm about exploitin' and victory. I just hope we can keep things mutually respectable when a second D in context with Caedus hits the Gilly Tally. And it will, Gill', it will. You can't expect to break the cycle o' stumblin', believe me, when you're capable o' clusterfuckuppery such as-

"I hope you beat Blingsteen though it won't be for the Universal Title from what I'm hearing on Twitter. I heard some cunt has the belt now."

I look to the lens, offering an overtly incredulous steely glare.

"You mean _Blingsteen_?? That cunt is Blingsteen, Gill'Steen, that cunt is BLINGSTEEN! Now dammit, this is what I'm talkin' about; your confusion is gonna get you killed, Gill', like curiosity and the cat. And don't you _dare_ deny that was the product o' your Legendary knack for overlookin' what's sittin' on your face, fuck-o. You've taken one too many blows to the wrong head and it costs you every time. Your accounts'll be drained like nuts, ballsdeep in tight legal teeny bitch soapy butts, when I hit you with the Nail Driver and smash your porcine ass through the mat like your hero Thick Mick Foley at the '98 King o' the Ring."

An aquatic victim takes the bait, is hooked and after a brief struggle, I pull a locally named finnock from the water. I remove the hook, plop the brown trout in a pail of water and re-bait.

"Little Fish.

Travis McCoy, in spite o' your humorous self-hype and apparent nose-divin' into a whoppin' and still droppin' 70 IQ believin' you're at all some sorta stellar Caedus feud candidate nominee...you ARE nothin' more than a little fish in the greatest ocean on the globe. I'll give credit where it's due, you aren't too bad at the silver tongue semantic shenanigans, even IF your reference game's dashin' backwards off a fuckin' cliff, and you HAVE been here longer than I have. But like Gilly queried, what the fuck have you done in that time? What've you done to prove you're capable o' crushin' the likes o' Star Killer Jim Caedus or providin' more than a long line o' Ls for yourself in some drawn out joke of a feud? You ain't shit but a thirsty ho lush panhandlin' out front of a bar, buttfucker, and ain't no one interested in what you're offerin' as compensation."

I cast my line. ::KAPLOONK::

"It's impossible to take your heralding o' "hey, here come the haymakers" seriously when said "haymakers" include you once more weirdly womanin' up with that "dance partner" poppycock, cocksucker; stop creepin' like a fat gay boy in a rainbow midriff, daisy-dukes and hot pink crocs before I shake the shit outta you like a bitch and bite your Adam's apple out so you more aptly fit the bill. The fuck are you goin' for here? Dustin circa '96 "in-your-face-fagish" mental warfare? Without a stogie-smokin' slut, the dope gold facepaint and ring gear, you idiot? Fuck you gonna do, run your hairy sausage fingers down my chest, spin and twerk me into the corner before spinnin' ME around to sniff my ass? I'll blast a fart so forceful and heinous it'll blow the mascara off your lashes, your eyes THROUGH the back o' your skull and your face clean off your fuckin' head. I ain't got time for your anal antics, asshole, and I ain't the type to cringe and cow in the face of a fruit, I'll just smack ya, pluck ya, chew you up and shit you out, girl. Goals.

Here's a goal for your cradlecap psoriasis scratchin' ass: NOT wrappin' your legs 'round your head and suckin' your own cock thinkin' you deliver devastatin' donnybrookin' with your "haymakers". "Maybe I" this and "maybe I" that. Maybe Travis McCoy was a fuckin' dipshit to begin with and that's why he ain't accomplished shit in the XWF. I am special, Trav', don't you doubt it. Three consecutive months OTM accolades, the final two bein' back-to-back Star of the Month honors. Two time XWF double champion. Undefeated XWF Television Champion. Lethal Lottery 4 winner. Former XWF Universal Champion. How many o' those can you claim, McCoy? How many can the entire '99-til-NOW roster claim? I'd say, and I could be wrong, around 25%. Need I ask who's included in the other 75? You, Travis "Daddy's Boy" McCoy.

Clearly some are more special than others. Clearly I'm one of 'em. And guess what? It wasn't "luck" that got me here, it was hard work and determination. But NO ONE can go full-steam ahead forever, despite some definin' PART TIME who criticize. You know who you are... There will always be a time o' tirin' out. It's what you do with that time that matters, motherfucker. I took a forced two weeks and now I'm back and ready for more. Where the fuck have YOU been since you hit E? I've been here 7 months plus and you only recently returned. If either of us is "just like the rest" it's you, Teabag McCoy, and though I don't doubt you have it in you to bring the pain in competition you don't have the stamina to stick it out OR remain relevant. You don't have the ability to bring Hell, like me. Like I brought to Brucette. And on that note...

You dare lecture me for losin' to Blingsteen and impune my skill? Bling may be a cowardly cunt o' the highest caliber but that trannysaurus-rex knows how to talk shit and fight. It's on the level o' trash talkers like the kings, like Dolly Waters and TRAX. Like Jim Caedus. And though it'll never admit to it publicly, I took that creature to it's limits in our contest, even with Graves's ill-advised interference. The level o' talent needed to pull that off is more than enough to smear a queer like you and you better believe I'll do just that. Talent like my incineratin' semantic style.

You lose cred craw-flappin' at me over my spice (like a man not at all interested in possessin' talent akin to somethin' like a "keyboard warrior") then tryin' on my big boy britches and takin' that spice for a spin, spunk-sucker. How'd it feel to sound that "good" (you can't see it with my hands full here but I'm air quotin' in my head) for once, Trav'? Ask several other members o' the roster the same question 'cause I keep seein' it become more and more prevalent, especially from the mouths o' my moronic opponents. It's like a weapon, though, bro, and you're peerin' down the barrel with your finger on the trigger whereas I've been bullseyein' for months on end with it. "Without (my) thesaurus", (I don't use one, wuss, I read books, remember?), "and (my) alliteration" I'm still head and shoulders above the majority, dumbass, and the only people player-hatin' on a heavy vocabulary are those who lack one, you simpleton sack o' jealous jag-off. You fuckin' kiddin' me with that shit? Ask Neville how far his intellect has gotten him thus far then give an apple to this teacher that I may pound it into your man-meat-massagin' mouth like the gut-suckin'-in-swine you are. After that, ask yourself one question: has anything about my style _stopped_ me from accruin' my accolades or _enabled_ me? Has my unique voice hindered my sky rocketing to the top? Yeah, shut the fuck up you bland blob o' jaded gelatin, you're a spoonful o' sugar away from still tasteless, twat. Get over yourself.

That requires repeating:

Get over yourself.

While you were expectin' me to flirt back with your

ass I was uploadin' my first vignette in the belief Blingsteen had the balls for the same kinda back and forth you were hopin' for then discoverin' it did NOT in fact possess said balls, followin' with my havin' to deal with bluffs and gonad-hackin' camper hijinks complete with deadline dick ridin' and intellectual property theft. For the XWF Universal Title. With the all-important-for-appearances-and-fan-hyping-promos sufferin' from restrictions on airplay forcin' me to hafta focus and prioritize my time to strategize. You thought Travis McCoy trumped all that? A man not only samplin' my style like he's been tossin' my salad but addin' a pinch or two o' the same style that inviso inferior imbecile NOCCM is know to spit with that cis' shit? The fuck, you got half the roster in that fuckin' balloon head o' yours all circle-jerkin' out the personas on Shuffle?

You disappoint me, Travis, it's definitely mutual. I thought you had some modicum of originality- Wait, no I didn't. From the word go you've shown just how old hat and borrowed bullshit you really are. Not only that, you crave my attention and start bleedin' from both snatch and ass holes when you don't get it...like a woman. You try insultin' me by pointin' out I just lost to a "woman"? I'm about to beat one, you, to death so that balances out nicely, doesn't it? Pushin' humiliation over opponents' appearances, by the way, pointedly after my opponent pulled a bitch move with that late hour clam-whammy transformation, is a bitch move itself. Don't make me magically change into a newborn kitten right before our match, pin you and start trollin' your ass over losin' to a pussy, pissant, 'cause I'll fuckin' do it."

My line once more tugs with a bite. I reel it in. Another finnock. Perfect.

I lay my rod aside, retrieve the first fish and hold 'em both by the tail in one hand, firm grip, the poor bastards wrigglin' for freedom as I extend my arm out over the water.

"Travis...you're a little fish. Like a remora you attach yourself to the shark styles, feed from our scraps and think you yourself are a shark. You aren't. You're an imposter, a fraud, a fuckin' copy catfish hack coughin' up the hairballs you accumulated lickin' the sacs o' the killers like Caedus. You called me THE Big Fish and while I wouldn't go AS far with it...by comparison, I most definitely am the big fish you wish you were. And Gilly, while you are technically a big fish as well, and a legit legend at that, I'm still the bigger fish. In fact, strike that, I'm a motherfuckin' monster. And when it comes to monsters-"

A reptilian tooth-filled head set atop what looks to be just the base of an elongated neck suddenly rises from the water to snap it's jaws around the finnock I grip. I release and the plesiosaur disappears with it's prey back below the surface.

-Loch Ness, Highlands-

I turn fully to the camera.

"-we eat 'em up...fish and all. Fuck what you both thought...Jim Caedus, The Star Killer, ain't the one waltzin' in for defeat. I may not talk as much as the competition but I damn sure say a helluva lot more with time-crafted quality above and beyond. I may not possess a spotless record, who does for that matter, but I possess an in-ring ability that recently catapulted me to the stratosphere and will again, startin' with snappin' the heads off two target twats bawlin', bitchin', and butthurtin' in an estrogen-fueled rage like the Big Dick Daddy won't just cockslap the words outta their vas deferens drainin' phallus fluffin' cheeks before I cram 'em right the fuck back in and watch these chicks choke on 'em.

When it comes to my opponents, please, Father, forgive, for they know not who it is they're fuckin' with."

::FADE TO BLACK::
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