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JimCaedus · (08-24-2017)

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CAEDUS REWIND: Leading up to the XWF King of the Ring 2017 pay per view held in London, the soon to re-release Dark Weapon seemingly made his way to Jim Caedus's not-so-long-ago homeless High Desert haunts of Phelan, CA in an effort to recreate The Star Killer's tribulations and allow himself a deeper understanding of his target. In response Jim as well traveled back to the land of milk and honey dirt and scummy and experienced a bizarre alternate dimension-type situation wherein he ran into a 50 pounds lighter version of himself. Physical contact with the other Jimmy saw the sudden inception of a mental prodding, an urgency manifesting from what would seem an outside source, leading Jim (for reasons currently unknown) to travel to Austin, Texas in search of a mysterious buried item which turned out to be...an awl. Why? Who the fuck knows? This story has just begun...

--Sunday·August 20·2017·Evening--

--Undisclosed Location--

WARNING
Now Entering Douchey Diatribe Zone

It always amuses me, the occasional cutting criticisms accusing Caedus of anything linguistically untowards...lookin' at you John Holliday...especially the ol' thesaurus use/abuse bs. The chuckles stem from the fact the inaccurately thrusted stabs usually come from those a decade or more my junior; youngsters unfamiliar with and therefore disbelieving of the need or want to express oneself in a full, unique and colorful manner as opposed to snippets, snaps and the never-ending repetition o' shit like "This (blank) got me like (blank)" and "(blank) be like (insert image/gif here)". Kids these days...they've scarcely an idea what it is to exist in a world without the internet.

They can only imagine what it must've been like to have to travel, at the very least, to a local library for a voluntary dose of education not covered (or not YET covered, depending on age) in the scholastic environment, to seek out that which now exists as electronic information (or all too often, mis and DISinformation) along with videos and images a mere Google search away wherever they're at. The answer to most everything they'd ever wanna know and/or see second-hand literally at their fingertips and available on command with the advent of smartphones. Is it convenient? Sure.

Convenience can also be described as lazy from a certain point of view however and as the love of literature as well as the ability to spell (more so now than ever in context with what used to be general knowledge) wanes...is it any wonder print is dead and these youngsters find it hard to believe a man like me just might have mined his vocabulary the now "old fashioned way" via a healthy desire to read books since the age of 2? For fucksake, I was exploring paleontology and our primeval world in kindergarten and reading Greek mythology at age 7. A thesaurus? Try dog-eared copies of the classic, the contemporary, a plethora of subjects and genres spanning millions of printed pages and a brain.

I remember, as that particular midget with a thirsty mound of grey matter, always jumping at the chance to accompany my mother and grandmother to an annual open house evening event at the L.A. Museum of Natural History. Grandma was a card-carrying VIP member of some sorta special club in context (a club I now suspect to have been made up exclusively of those who regularly donated) and this membership was rewarded with such perks as enjoying employee only access to the various labs and storage areas on the premises. All those artifacts and specimens...

END
Now Leaving DDZ

Yeah...it may have just taken me a fatass minute or two to roll down Memory Lane and hang a right onto Present Place but here I am, _where_ I am, and it takes me right back to those nights at the museum before those Night at the Museum films inspired overnight at the museum stays for the more adventurous(?) of the edgy "let's slumber party with bones, stones and a stained glass dome" adult demo. Not that I've an aversion for the concept, mind you, it's just now I'm a part of the off-shoot "let's smoke a bowl in the Hall of Mammals, fuck standing up in the rainforest exhibit then brainstorm ways to heist all the jewels from the Gem Vault and fulfill a dream held since seein' Mikey, Mouth, Data, Brand, Steph and Andy find One Eyed Willy's rich stuff" sub-clique. Anyway...as I was saying...

The nostalgia needling through me as I await the return of the exhibits clerk down here in the storage area of the **location concealed** does a damn fine job of distracting me from the fact I'd more or less recently taken advantage of the lofty diplomatic pull of Thaddeus Duke and deceived him into writing out a generalized request affording me "full cooperation in my search for the diary" on a blank business card (complete with royal wax seal) under the impression I'd misplaced a keepsake memoirs formerly belonging to my late _father_ at a location many miles from my current position...and I desperately needed to recover it.

I'm sorry about that, Thadly...but I can't refuse nor can I explain this phenomenon formin' destinations and mystery items in my mind's eye. Ever since...

Ever since that fistbump with "Jimmy", the..._me_ I'd run into in Hesperia last week. And anyway, the way I see it the kid owes me for what happened forty thousand feet above Germany this past Saturday.

[Duke]°°°°°°°[/Duke]

--This past Saturday--

--40,000' above Germany--

Piloting an F-18F Super Hornet with Jim strapped into the rear of the two seat cockpit, Thaddeus executes a spiral of 5 barrel rolls.

"FU------UCK!! No more bro!"

[DUKE]"One more?"[/DUKE]

"_No_ more I said, not-"

Thaddeus executes a second series of rolls. Jim flushes green, gags, before finishing his retort as the aircraft levels out.

"-one more!"

[DUKE]"Again!? Heh."[/DUKE]

A third spiral. Jim removes his mask mid-multi-roll emptying the contents of his stomach, and the canopy interior splatters over with chunks. Thaddeus levels out.

[DUKE]"Jim! What the fuck!?"[/DUKE]

"Oh you bastard..."

[Duke]°°°°°°°[/Duke]

Helluva way to spend National Aviation Day I suppose...

"Mr. Caedus?"

The exhibits clerk snaps me from my retch reverie.

"As I said earlier, I can't justify handing over the diary in its entirety to you, I'd lose my job. However..." He presents a single, aged-yellow piece of paper. I receive a mental shock to the head.

That's it.

"...the future King Duke's sway is substantial enough to afford you _this_. I tore it from the back of the work. It's blank I'm afraid, if you were hoping for a bit of scrawl."

I take the page, gingerly rubbing the paper between my index and thumb tips. I sniff it, lightly inhaling the scent of what must be history. Endorphins release in my brain.

"Not at all, this is just what I was lookin' for Bradley, thank you. Thaddeus will be pleased. I'll find my own way out."

He stops me.

"If you would...put in a good word for me? This is hardly the career I'd imagined and a bulletpoint followed by "Steward to the King" would vastly improve the resumé."

"I'll uh, see what I can do."

I turn and take my leave.

Pie-in-the-sky on, Bradley.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

(cue the title music)

"Hell on a Holliday"

--Monday·August 21·2017·Senior Citizen's Day--

--Port-Cartier Maximum Security Institution, Quebec--

Luka Magnotta takes a seat across from me at the visitor's round table I chose. He'd been studying my form since sauntering over.

"You look good but I'm taken and...I just don't do beards, sorry. Who are you?"

I ignore the incorrect assumption and answer.

"No one special."

"Have you written me letters? I've never seen you before and I would remember _you_ for sure."

"I sent a letter at one time, yeah. You never sent a response."

"So you're a fan?"

"You could say that. I've been following you since the kittens."

"Ha! You liked those videos did you?"

Years ago this piece of inhuman excrement uploaded three videos on YouTube. In the first he suffocated two kittens using a vacuum and a plastic bag. In the second he fed a live kitten wearing a Santa Claus hat to a python. In the third he duct taped a kitten to a broom handle and dunked it over and over in a bathtub full of water until it finally drowned. No, I didn't like the videos. Quite frankly, I'd been fantasizing about killing this guy for as long as I'd been aware of him. However, I can't exactly do that here and get away with it within the walls of Port-Cartier so instead of answering how I wish, I merely force a smile.

"Those stupid animal rights activists tried to get me in trouble over those videos. No one cared, not after Lin."

Lin Jun. Luka's final video comprised the murder, dismemberment and masturbation with the corpse of Lin Jun, a young gay Chinese male international student Luka had fished off a dating site, perpetrated to a soundtrack. The shit had ruined New Order's "True Faith" for me.

"Pussy hippies. They don't do shit but bitch and whine."

"Right?" He laughs. Then- "So what do you want to talk about? Why are you here?"

"Two reasons, Luka. One, I wanted to look you in the eyes at least once before you're taken off the market."

News had spread of Mr. Magnotta's search for a man on the online inmate personals and his success not long ago. He'd even announced his plans to get married.

He grins.

"Hey, if you were clean shaven and hit on me in time I might have chosen you, daddy. And the second?"

"I was hopin' you could gimme a keepsake. Like, I dunno...an item you wouldn't mind handing over?"

"No way, what's mine is mine."

Sunuvabitch.

I'm not sure what to do. I wasn't brought here via my own decision despite having coincidentally desired the death of this prick for years. I'd even plotted it out recently. Imagine my pleasant surprise that this date happened to coincide with one of the scheduled conjugal visits I'd been made aware of through electronic convict correspondence. It's as if my cranial filing system was subject to perusal via outside source...and that meant only one thing: this was now the third in a series of psychic proddings leading me to 3 separate countries to acquire mysterious items I still have no clue as to their meaning or importance and pondering on the subject I'd found to be futile.

Whatever this mental urging is, it's preventing me from investigating. Every time I try, my skull pounds with a migraine so intense it makes cogent thought impossible. I'd found it best simply to oblige the phenomenon as I had in traveling here. And to the point of what I'd need to collect _this_ time around, it had only specified Luka Magnotta himself. So...what the hell am I gonna-

Hair.

I receive a shock to the head.

Yep, hair.

"Hair then?"

"My _hair_?" He runs a hand over his short, spiked style. "That's kind of weird don't you think," he asks, clearly flattered despite his words?

"Ain't you ever seen the extended version of the LotR: Fellowship of the Ring? It's not weird, it's romantic," I play into it.

"But my hair is so _short_. I don't know if I can even pull any without tweezers."

Shit. He's right. Unless...

I almost lose my cool.

"Oh...I can think of a few places you might have longer hair."

Luka raises his right arm and allows a gander down the sleeve.

"Nope, smooth. I hate underarm hair."

God. Fucking. Dammit. Please don't make me ask...

I make an exaggerated look down through the table where his crotch should be and try not to trip out.

"You don't shave _there_ do you?" I look back and meet his gaze, doing my best to make it sexual.

He blushes. He actually blushes. Guy uses a chopped off arm and hand to jack himself off with but my aggression makes him blush, go figure. He answers in a hushed tone.

"Oh my God...you're a bad one." He can't wipe the huge smile from his face. "No, I don't shave _there_. Pits I do but the razors they give us are too harsh to go there. You...you really want that?"

"Yes please."

"Will you jerk that cock of yours with one hand and hold my hairs with the other?"

Fuckin' scumbag.

"If that's what you _want_ me to do."

"Mmmm. So hot." He eyes me in silence for a moment. "Ok daddy, you have a deal."

Stop calling me _daddy_!

I watch as he glances around then drops his hands beneath the table. He squirms a bit, his eyes squinting in mild pain. When he returns his hands to the tabletop he's pinching a small bundle of pubes between his thumb, index and middle fingertips. I pull the folded paper given to me after signing in (detailing the rules of visitation) from my pocket and open it at the edge. Luka drops the hair on the table surface and gently blows. They scatter, traveling across and I trap what few I can catch on the paper, folding them up safely before returning it all to my pocket. Endorphins, as with each success thus far, release in my brain.

That'll do it. Now to wrap this up.

I rise.

"Wait, that's it?"

"Afraid so. I've a schedule to keep, shit to handle. What, sad to see me go? Thought you didn't like beards?"

"Well I don't but I enjoy the company."

"Come on now Luka, I've seen how you guys live here. TV, movies, internet access, gourmet food, a convenience store...you even get to wear whatever you want for fucksake and you've got buddies here as well, I've seen the pictures. You've got plenty to keep you company, plenty to do."

That's all true, by the way, these motherfuckers in Canadian "prisons" lead ludicrously extravagant lives.

"Ooo, that reminds me. My future husband is supposed to be here soon. Conjugal visit." He smiles in excitement.

Oh...I know.

"Nice. Have fun."

I turn and walk.

"Wait, what's your name??"

I ignore him and continue on my way.
-------------------------------------------------------------------

-Outside Port-Cartier a few minutes later-

Climbing into my rental, I check my email on my phone. Nothing new in my inbox since the confirmation I'd received before my arrival from a certain "friend".

C'mon fucker. Keep in touch or no payday.

As if on cue, I refresh the page to see one new message. I open it.

He just got here. Keep you posted.

Excellent.

While I wait, I place my phone atop the dashboard leaning it against the windshield interior facing me. I activate the video and press record.

"John Holliday...so you thought it wise to jump the gun and fuck with me in the halls while I'm arguing with Cadryn and Doc did you? Alright ya Val Kilmer-character-lovin'-inexplicably-wild-western-named-nosferatu-annihilatin'-numbskull-cowboy-cumdrop, you want a fight? "I'll be your huckleberry".

First and foremost

...who the _fuck_ do you think you are bow-leggin' your lame, lil' limp dick self into my personal business like I'm some ham 'n egger who ain't gonna beat fifty shades o' black and blue into that Cowboys & Aliens-spin-off-straight-to-DVD-Varmint Vlad the Impaler-Meets-Marshall Van Helsing horse's ass o' yours? I'm Jim Caedus, cocksucker, ask around. Take a gander at the accolade tally I tack onto my signature on the official XWF99.com site; I'm not the one you wanna choose outta the ring, I don't give a good goddamn if we've got a scheduled match-up or not.

For the benefit o' those o' you unfamiliar with what I'm referrin' to, Johnny Come Hately here hopped his happy Hicksylvanian vapid ass into what had degenerated into a heated mudslingin' contest 'tween me and Doc D'Ville, an already-two-on-one includin' Jizzter I-swear-I'm-not-Gaydryn. Yeah, you heard me right. John Holliday thought uppin' a cowardly handicap two-thots-on-one-Caedus to a three chicks, one dick scenario was the proper way to present himself as a tough sumbitch. Of course, that wasn't all the asshole was hopin' to accomplish, oh no. This jag-off was actually entertaining the notion his throwin' in with The Kings against Caedus would lead to his hiring into that pack o' pretentious part-time tired twats. A baseless accusation? Hardly. Viddy _this_."

{XWF HQ CCTV footage 08-09-2017}

John Holliday (08-09-2017 at 01:17 AM)
"What can I do for you rich boy?"

Theo Pryce (08-09-2017 at 06:58 AM)
"Pleased to meet you John. At the moment there is nothing you can do for me. So instead let me ask you, what can I, as one of the owners of the XWF do for you?"

John Holliday (08-09-2017 at 04:24 PM)
"Get more hot refs with nice round asses and awesome tits?"

Jim Caedus (right now)

John Holliday (08-09-2017 at 4:24 PM continued)
"Haha, I joke, kinda anyways but there isn't really nothing I can think of, but hey. Here's my card, in case you need something from a Marshal."

John Holliday subtext

John handed Theo his card, with his number on it, before taking out cigarette from his pack and lighting it up.

Theo Pryce (08-09-2017 at 04:36 PM)
"Thanks John. I'll put this card in my wallet and if I ever need you I will be sure to reach out."

{End footage}

"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny...Christ almighty that's about as desperately pathetic and ill-spoken as it gets, it's hilarious. Honestly, you _actually_ believe those pricks give a shit about you? Check it out, when Theo said "if I ever need you" that's him politely sayin' "I don't need you". When he said "I'll put this card in my wallet" it really meant "I'll wipe my ass with it and flush it". How are you so self deluded you can't see that? The Kings already have a jester designation for the least talented o' their cowardly clique so what the fuck are YOU supposed to bring to their Round Table? I guess stable boy, as in shovelin' shit, ain't outta the question. Perhaps the royal laundry go-fer seein' as the intense level o' suction you're already tryin' to provide their private parts is more than capable of suckin' skid marks clean off their urine-stained tighty-whiteys. Oh I know...King fluffer. That's it ain't it? You intend to milk your majestys' meat maces like the best lil' yes-man homo you know you can be. Bravo. O' course, I wouldn't put it past those pussies to pull a swervacious Kings cameo in your Underworld 6: Yee-Haw universe now just to fuck with me. HOWEVER...it's very important in that hypothetical scenario you understand and repeat to yourself it'd be all about ME and your inclusion would solely be representative of a convenient tool, ya Crapsman adjustable power douche. Oh what, you don't believe it? Why the fuck do you think neither Cadryn nor Doc could be bothered to placate the patty-cake pissant ridin' in on 'is rocking horse to toss his two wooden nickels into the mix? And when Docsy DID mention you, it was in the main-vein o' pissin' in your ten gallon hat by heraldin' your hangin' and Caedus casketizin' before burial at Boot Hack Hill. Wake up lil' snoozy, wake up. What was it again anyway you were whinin' about when you butted in to begin with?"

"Did you just took what Doc said, reworded it and then repackaged it as that? Like how can you stand there, take someone's words and fire them back at them as if they were your own?"

I adopt an over-the-top southern accent.

"Did you just took what little experienced you has in the big leagueses, loaded it and then fired it as that?" I suddenly start speaking more intelligently and clearly, as if I've an IQ _over_ 70, though now with a white bread valley girl accent. "Like, how can you sit there, criticize an advanced-though-oft-used-in-the-XWF strategy like a flipside paraphrase counter and act as if you don't look like a fucking idiot?" I drop the mimicry. "Like so, stupid. Get it now? Or must I manhandle you on the subject o' true linguistic warfare for the second time since I ALREADY double-underhook piledrivered that still soft spot on your widdle baby head in real-time response aptly accusin' your mistaken motivations o' poop-brown nosin', half-ass heat 'n hype and grade school butthurtery over my sniffin' around those sexy, sexy Sugay Sisters after you frantically fiended after 'em first? Yeah...that's why you had nothin' to say in retort, BITCH. I like the way you cow, boy. And where the fuck have you been since then? Prayin' to God my offer o' cancellin' our match in favor o' facin' Doc comes to pass? Pound that joker up your poker playin' Wesley Snipes White in Blade 4: Two Gun Gaywalker pussy and fold,

, you're about to get royal flushed in fuckin' Quebec. Baiser ton cul au revoir. Zut alors and gadzooks!

Have you now been properly motivated to mouth-back moronically motherfucker, or was your sudden dick shrivel in the fightin' hall only the tip o' the baby dick iceberg? You gonna wet your garlic-lined long-johns John or you gonna hit me with a giddy horrific tale o' vampires and cattle-rustlers in From Dusk Til Dawn 4: Brokeback Lost Boys?

Look, Scary Poppins, you ain't gonna be "such a jolly Holliday" when I rip off that vamp'-vag'-violator and mallet my _beef_ stake through your Twilight-lovin' virgin left and right ventricles. Give all new meaning to your chiseled tombstone quote, "The kid had fuckin' heart". If you pay attention to the efforts o' your fellow rostermates you may have heard that misshapen paraplegic Billy Barty Sharty Blumpkinz call me an irrelevant former Uni Champ. That right there... unfortunately contains a modicum o' truth.

I've fallen from grace...unlike Cuck Chaos however, I don't intend to flail about wonderin' why I can't seem to regain my ol' dominant self, I intend to keep the upward momentum I re-swung startin' with McCoy & Gilly and continued through King o' the Ring against Graves. That means I can't allow anyone to kaput my catapulting back to the top, least of all some get-along-little-dogey-Dracula-doomin' dipshit like you. I'm more than willin' and able to prove to King Lane and the Brass Circle Jim Caedus is still one o' the most dangerous, dominant and devastatin' dicks in this pinnacle promotion as well as deservin' o' not only title shots but another run at the XWF Universal Championship. This's what I was made for, fuckstick, I AM the once and future flagship o' this company...and you...you ain't zilch but shit I gotta step in and scrape off on the same curbside I'll be usin' to stomp that baby face into Muppet-headed hilarity."

::BVVVT::

Quickly I cut recording and open my email notification.

Alarm went up. Its done.
-------------------------------------------------------------------

--Minutes ago--

--Port-Cartier Conjugal Trailer--

::A nearly nude Luka Magnotta greets his fianceé Mark Twitchall (visiting from an Edmonton institution) by dropping his silk boxers and offering a seductive smile. Mark returns the smile- and suddenly begins to hack uncontrollably::

"Mark?? _MARK_!? Baby what's wrong!?"

::Luka scurries over to clap Twitchall on the back as he doubles over, intending to help him dislodge whatever may be choking him.

Twitchall sticks his fingers into his own mouth as Luka slaps, force-regurgitating a short length of shivved-out toothbrush and blood from esophageal tearing into his hand. He rises::

"Ok now?"

::Twitchall spins, stabbing Luka in the throat and repeating a dozen times. Luka backpedals, crumbling into the trailer wall and dropping to his ass, gurgling. Twitchall refuses to relent, making sure to pepper Luka's torso and face feverishly.

The eyes behind the privacy violating security cams inspire fingers to trip the alarm::
-------------------------------------------------------------------

--Present time outside Port-Cartier--

Imagining how Mr. Magnotta may have been ventilated free this mortal coil makes me feel...good. A monster like that need not sponge off the tax payers' dollars or however it is Canucks do shit prison-wise.

Job well done, money well spent.

I turn the key in the ignition of the rental, reverse and depart.

Bring it, John.

"Holiday Season"? Try Hunting Season.

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