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X-treme Wrestling Federation BOARDS » XWF PPV Boards » Relentless Day 3 RP Board 2020
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Sarah's Silver Spoon
Author Message
Charlie Nickles Online now or has been in the last 30 mins
The Family Man



XWF FanBase:
Hardcore, psycho fans

(cheered for breaking rules and bones; excessively violent; creative with weapons)


Post: #1
09-14-2020 09:17 PM

As Charlie regains consciousness he finds himself once again laid out in a hospital bed he doesn’t want to be in. An intense pressure is forming behind his eyes, painful throbbing ever present inside his skull. On the bright side, Charlie’s eyes have considerably gone down in size, the swelling all but gone. A new bruise, however, has found residence on Charlie’s face. The fresh blue bump sticks out like a sore thumb among the red cuts along the rest of Charlie’s face. His gaze is drawn to the Heavymetalweight belt placed neatly along the end table near his bed.

Jeffy: Hey! You’re back up! That’s great. They said you were out all day...

Charlie turns his head as the familiar voice rings out from the hallway. The janitor walks into Charlie’s room while pushing a soapy bucket with a mop.

Jeffy: Sorry about earlier….the fall and all. I told the nurses that I found you passed out in the bathroom. Had to drag you all the way up here.

Charlie blinks a few times, slowly regaining his sense of self as the throbbing pain in his head quietly fades into the background. His aching arm shoots with pain as Charlie attempts to pull himself up to a seated position. His face winces, but he says nothing as he pulls himself up to look at Jeffy. The burned nerve endings on Charlie’s palm only add fuel to the fire raging along Charlie’s nervous system.

Jeffy: Good news is your promo got you over big time! The fans are eating it up! Everyone is getting hyped for your main event match up.

Jeffy looked at the injured wrestler with a smidge of concern.

Jeffy: You….you will be good to go for your match, right?

Charlie: Of course.

Charlie nods in the affirmative, even as his stiff neck tells a different story with each and every head movement. Jeffy’s face lights up once again.

Jeffy: Awesome! I knew you wrestlers were badass, but damn, Charlie! If you can pull that championship belt down and place it around your waist after...well….this-

Jeffy motions generally at Charlie’s broken body.

Jeffy: It would be legendary! Say Charlie, are you hungry or anything? I figure I can run down and get you something quick before the kitchen closes for the night.

Charlie: Yeah, I’ll take….something with a lot of dead animal on it.

Jeffy laughs and gives Charlie a thumbs up before pushing the mop bucket out of the room and into the hallway. Jeffy turns to the left, heading down to the cafe to grab a bite for his third favorite X.W.F. wrestler. What a dream come true!

Charlie reaches for the television remote on the end table, placed about half a foot in front of the championship belt. As Charlie lunges for the remote he hears multiple vertebrates in his back crack. He ignores the pain, acknowledging it only with a brief flash of discomfort across his face. He continues to reach for the remote until he secures it with his palm. He grips the remote and leans back into the comforts of his cotton bed sheets. He turns on the tv that is hung from an adjacent side of the wall wall.

Charlie: Great fucking placement….good job, Jeffy.

Charlie mutters to himself as he flips through the channels. He passes through everything quickly, disinterested in most of the trashy television, political ads, and shitty commercials that flood today’s airwaves. He stops dead in his tracks as NBC pops up on the screen. Sarah Lacklan is on screen, and she’s cutting a so-so promo on whoever or whatever. Charlie’s mind has no space for Lacklan’s words. His gaze is fully fixated on her figure. Her corporal form. He is lost in a trance as the minutes pass by and the young blonde lesbian continues on her long-winded diatribes with the older blonde lesbian.

Jeffy: Hey, I saw this the other day!

Charlie’s fixated trance is broken as Jeffy comes back to the room with a pulled pork sandwich and a can of royal cola.

Charlie: Oh yeah?

Jeffy: Yeah. It was pretty fucking weird seeing a wrestler on Ellen’s show. You know, my mom watches Ellen every day. She goes ape shit for it. Makes sense, though. Ellen is NBC’s top rated show among women in their 40s and 50s. I just don’t know why the federation thought that the old lady demo was so critical to their success that they should buy Sarah a spot on that show to promote the fight…...well, I guess if AEW’s going to win the 18-34 demo….

Charlie: She’s beautiful, isn’t she?

Jeffy: Ellen? Eh. She’s like a four and a half, so I’d definitely bang her. But I don’t think I’d call her be-

Charlie: SARAH! Sarah is beautiful! That girl...is gorgeous.

Jeffy: Oh yeah, I’d crawl through 400 yards of shattered glass just to hear her fart through a walkie talkie. Or whatever the saying is. I’d bang the shit out of her. I bet she would want the money shot on her face. She seems like that type of firebrand.

Charlie glares at Jeffy, but Jeffy is too lost in the fantasy to notice.

Jeffy: She’d be all like ‘ooooh Jeffy, give it to me. Splurge it on my sluttly lesbo face, Jeffy!’.

Jeffy starts humping the air while pretending to grope a woman. The pulled pork sandwich and cola are still in his hands as he carries on his routine. Charlie’s stern stare has shifted into a scowl. His eyes narrow at Jeffy as the pounding inside his skull starts to amp up.

Jeffy: And I’d be like ‘oh baby oh yeah you like Jeffy’s big dick huh? You like the way Jeffy puts the tip in your little bootyho-’

Charlie: ENOUGH!

Charlie’s screams cause Jeffy to jump back in shock. He drops both the pulled pork sandwich and the can of off brand soda on the floor. The can of soda burst open, shooting out cola across the room.

Jeffy: Ohhhhh fuck! My bad….I’ll clean it up, Charlie. Don’t worry about it.

Charlie just glares at Jeffy, who slowly backs out of the room with his hands held up innocently.

Jeffy: I’ll be right back with the mop! My bad, Charlie….

LATER THAT NIGHT

The overhead lights in Charlie’s room turn on as Jeffy pops his head in to check on his new ‘friend’ before his shift ends.

Jeffy: Hey….you up?

Charlie rolls over onto his back as the lights come on. He brings up a hand to block the glow from the light fixtures.

Charlie: I am now…..

Jeffy: Great! Say, I had another idea…

Charlie pulls himself up to a seated position with slightly less difficulty than before. He looks at Jeffy with an exasperated expression.

Charlie: What is it?

Jeffy: Let’s shoot another promo! I got a shit ton of reddit karma when I posted your video! And all my friends thought it was super cool that I got to direct a promo for the main event of the biggest pay per view of the year! And I mean...you also looked super cool and tough in it too, and stuff.

Charlie glared at Jeffy. The pounding in Charlie’s skull intensified as his vision blurred for a few seconds. Charlie turned back over onto this side, covering his face with his hand so as to block out the light from above.

Charlie: I don’t feel like it.

Jeffy: Awww come on. I don’t ever get to do this sort of stuff. Besides, don’t you want to hype your match up some more? Get everyone all on the edge of their seats before you even enter the arena? I’m sure you get a cut of the pay per view buys. The more you promote it, the more money you can make. Right? I’ll make it easy for you. We can do it right here. You don’t even have to go anywhere. What do you say?

Jeffy pulls out his cellphone expectantly. His face wears an anxious smile. Charlie lays in the bed, silent, but only for a moment. The sad reality of being trapped in a cycle of generational poverty washes over the clearly concussed man.

Charlie: Fine.

Jeffy: Awwhh hells yeah. Go ahead and grab your championship belt. I have a creative vision for this.

Charlie: Of course you do…

Charlie pulls himself out of bed, ignoring the aches and moans of his beaten down body as he grabs his championship belt off of the end table. Jeffy points towards a blank space on the hospital wall.

Jeffy: Why don’t you stand over here in front of this. A nice, plain background.

Charlie shrugs as he slings the Heavymetalweight belt around his comparatively less injured shoulder. He walks where directed, turning back to face Jeffy as he arrives in position. Jeffy, the aspiring pro that he is, already has his cell phone out and the video recorder ready. The position of Jeffy’s body relative to the overhead light is casting a slight shadow up to Charlie’s midsection.

Jeffy: Remember: this is for all the marbles. The biggest night of the year. Two stars facing off….only one of them will walk away with the crown jewel of this industry. 3…..2….1...go!

Charlie: You going to step out of the way of the light, bub?

Jeffy sheepishly takes a few paces to the side, repositioning himself so that he no longer casts a shadow in the frame.

Jeffy: Ok….now go…

Charlie respositions the championship belt on his shoulder as he stares into the camera for a few seconds. He looks past the camera, back at Jeffy.

Charlie: We’re missing something.

Jeffy: What? What more do we need? We have the one and only Charlie Nickles, Heavymetalweight champion, August Superstar of the Month, #1 contender to the universal championship.

Charlie: I need a spoon.

Jeffy: What?

Charlie: I need a spoon. A steel spoon.

Jeffy: Why do you need a spoon?

Charlie glares at the janitor. He takes a few paces towards the hospital employee, narrowing his eyes a bit more with every step. He leans in to Jeffy’s personal space, close enough so that Jeffy can smell the remnants of today’s four bean soup from the kitchen.

Charlie: Let me make something clear to you, Jeffy. You don’t ever question me. Ev-eeeerrrrrr.

Charlie stares down at the janitor. Jeffy takes a few steps back as Charlie’s tone shifted to a more sinister inflection.

Jeffy: Jesus Christ...okay. I think there are some spoons in the nurse’s lounge on this floor.

Jeffy exits the room as Charlie stares him down. As soon as Jeffy leaves the room, Charlie collapses backwards and leans against the wall. The mounting pressure in his skull has grown to be damn near unbearable. Every couple of seconds a powerful throbbing rattles his mind. Charlie shakes his head from side to side, but the movement only adds to the pain. Charlie rests against the wall, his mind numb from the stinging sensation behind his eyes. Time slowly crawls by as Charlie leans against the wall with his eyes closed.

Jeffy: Alright, I have your spoon.

Jeffy walks into the room as if nothing were wrong. Charlie stands tall as Jeffy’s voice breaks through the mind-numbing sensation of pain pounding within the wrestler’s brain. Jeffy extends the spoon to Charlie, who grabs it with a scowl on his face. Jeffy backs up as he pulls his cellphone out of one of the many pockets on his jumpsuit.

Jeffy: Ok. Now that we have your spoon we should be all set. Ok….we’re gonna go in 3…..2……...1..

Charlie looks into the camera as he proudly holds his championship belt against his shoulder with one hand. In his other hand he is holding up a steel spoon. The wounds on his face have healed quite considerably since his last promo, although his skin is still visibly bruised.

“This silver spoon. Coveted by some, hated by others. Taken for granted by a select few.

This silver spoon...it changes lives. Shapes us from birth.

After all, what is the difference between a Sarah Lacklan and a Charlie Nickles?”

Charlie shook the spoon from side to side.

“This silver spoon.

That’s all.

While Charlie grew up roaming the streets of Steubenville, sleeping in abandoned buildings and run down cars, Sarah grew up in the shining halls of Lacklanland manor. While young Charlie scoured through garbage cans searching desperately for his next meal, young Sarah played with her dolls while her maids prepared a dinner feast. While I fought everyday just to survive, you fought for fun with your father’s training partners.

Is it any wonder that it took me 20 years to make up the lost time? All those years you trained in the ring with your father, your sister, your coaches...I was just trying to stay alive long enough to see the sun rise.

I had to build a name for myself in this industry. No help. No lackeys. No family name to fall back on. I had to climb the ranks the old fashioned way.

With raw aggression. Unlimited violence.

Everything you hate about me, Sarah? Everything you deride as ‘garbage wrestling’, ‘idiocy’, ‘barbed wire barbarism’...it is what got me where I am today. If I tried things your way...I would have died on the streets of Steubenville. The upper crust of society would’ve stepped over my decaying body in their red bottom shoes, coated with the blood of the working man.

Your hatred, disregard, and utter disdain for hardcore wrestling is nothing more than a hatred for the tools of the working man’s liberation. Steel chains, barbed wire, thumbtacks...these are nothing more than tools to even the playing field. To make the upper crust feel the pain and torment they’ve inflicted upon their so-called ‘inferiors’ for hundreds of years.

You can’t stand to witness a working man claw his way to the top. You can’t stand to watch as the poor, the outcast, the down-trodden make their mark on this world, painted with the blood of the elites.

But to a Steubenville man like me? It’s a glorious sight to behold. The blood. The depravity. The carnage. The chaos. Hardcore destruction lays waste to the pillars of this rotten, unjust world. Those born of privilege and wealth tremble at the thought.

You hate to see it, but I revel in it.

But at the end of the day, our difference in perspective all revolves around this little spoon.”

Charlie tips the spoon towards the camera.

“You were born with this little spoon in your mouth. The moment you were born this wicked world placed a crown on your head and a trust fund in your pocket.

But that same spoon….

Was used to beat my family into submission. Used to slice the working man apart, bit by bit. Everything you were given, everything you had handed to you...was taken off the backs of the common man.

So of course you love the world that gave you this spoon. But my thoughts on the spoon are a bit different, Sarah.

Your silver spoon, Sarah? It isn’t fit to scrape the shit out of my asshole.”

Charlie guffaws as he mimics using the spoon as a scooping tool. Painful shocks shoot through his body as his lungs rapidly expand and deflate, but you wouldn’t know it just from watching the man’s actions. He hides the years of pain well. Charlie calms himself down as he taps the spoon against the Heavymetalweight belt hanging around his shoulder.

“You hate to see a working man thrive, Sarah.

You can degrade this belt all you want. Dismiss it as meaningless, a waste of time, a wholly unnecessary trinket.

But that just shows your ignorance to your own privilege. Once again, you are so used to having your mouth filled that you don’t even notice the silver spoon guiding your life.

This belt right here?

It has changed my life.

I’ve never been a rich man, but now? I can live with some comfort. Every night I know I can afford a pillow to lay my head on. All because of this belt right here.

The victory bonus, the licensing deals, the photo ops: I’ve made more money in the last two weeks than in my first decade in the business. That alone makes this belt worth everything. This belt right here? It changed my life.

But you will never understand the grind. The hustle, the drive. You will never know what it’s like to enter that squared circle with no money in your pocket and no home to go back to. This belt represents the determination that it takes for the working man to survive in this carnivorous world. It is no wonder that you are blind to it’s worth.”

Charlie rolls his eyes, shrugging off Sarah’s disregard for his championships and achievements.

“I already know what you’re going to say, Sarah. Everyone can see it coming from a mile away.”

Charlie pretends to hold a lighter up under the spoon.

“Ohhhhhh Chuckie talks about the spoon, but what about his dope spoon? What about his smack spoon?!”

Charlie spits on the ground as he brings the spoon down to his waist, still gripping it tightly in his hand.

“These last few days all you’ve been doing is spouting off about shit you will never understand. Spreading lies, slander. If I were one of your family’s jew lawyers I’d be filing my lawsuit tomorrow.

Abuser? Rapist?

You make me sick. The family man is nothing of the sort. But the fans know this, management knows this, I know this, and even you know this. You resort to vicious rumor-mongering to ruin my reputation. Maybe you need to convince a few of your buddies to come out and throw me off that ladder when I’m on the cusp of victory, but I don’t give a damn. I’ll take you on, and dismantle the whole roster if they decide to come out and test my metal.

I’m a proud father. I put the food on the table for Emily and Tyler. I instill the proper values in my children. Spend quality time with them. Just cause I don’t buy into this politically correct bullshit about not disciplining your kids, that doesn’t make ol’ Charlie an abuser. My family raised me right, and I’m raising my kids right. But if lashing my kid a couple of times for mouthing off makes me an abuser, then fuck it, I’ll wear the badge with pride!

But Sarah, I can accept you for who you are. I can accept that you lie. That you’re living in sin. That you have lost the Lord's light. I can change that with due time.

But Sarah, please, for the sake of us all: lie with brevity.

Your long winded diatribes, your never-ending failure to be witty or clever, your wasted words...just leave the filler out. We’ll get the point the first time. And the second time. Save your breath, because nobody is buying what you’re selling.”

Charlie smirks at the camera, the irony completely lost on him.

“You know Sarah, I love to hear your voice, but I am growing tired of hearing you bitch and whine about how I came into the main event picture. You blind yourself to your own ignorance and privilege all too often.

Sarah can just wait, sit in her lackadaisical Lacklanland living abode waiting to be painted into the frame by the artists in charge. But ol’ Charlie? I can’t sit around and wait to be placed ‘where I belong’. I’m under no illusions of my ‘place’ in this world. The artists in charge will never paint Charlie into the portrait. They say he’s too ugly. Too fat. Too hardcore.

That’s why I had to TAKE my place in this world. Assert myself in the frame. Firmly cement myself in the main event picture, using the blood of my foes to glue my feet to the ground. You can’t stand to see it, Sarah. You can’t stand to see a poor man taking his rightful place in this world. Asserting himself, refusing to be held down by the spoons of the mighty and the privileged.

But Sarah...are you so blind to not see our compatibility? To not see the commonality in our souls, the very commonality that binds us together in spirit and in body on September 27th?”


Charlie peers into the camera with a tender expression on his face, as if waiting for Sarah to answer.

“You took your spot in the main event scene by force just a short time ago. That’s the whole origin story of the seeds of our love, Sarah.

You weren’t placed in a match, you weren’t painted into the picture. You may have thought you were, I suspect that’s an assumption you carry with you at all times, but your name was not at the top of the card that night. You let Warstein and Centurion duke it out in that ring, beating each other within an inch of their lives. Then, when Shawn barely survived, you came out and cashed in! You didn’t earn that belt. You stole it off of a bruised and battered man, barely clinging to consciousness.

There was no honor in that. No decency. You came into this main event scene by force. By fate.

And how did we meet, Sarah? Do you recall? Or did I rattle your brain around just a bit too hard when I busted you open with my little chain?

I came into the main event scene by force. By fate.

We were a match made in heaven. Two paths, intertwined by the twin themes of force and fate.

Sarah, your hypocrisy is blinding you to the potential in our matrimony. To all the signs the Lord is placing before us.

You deride and slander me for being a criminal, for having some mystical and magical arrest warrant that I have never seen. You call me crazy, low-brow….but Sarah, do you even know who your father really was?

Or did he never show you?

Never show you the tapes? Of his early days before Sin Wrestling?

The tapes….of his minions, acting under his orders.

His hired goons kidnapped two puppies. That’s right folks, we are talking about sweet and innocent little puppies. Kidnapped under the orders of Jean Paul Lacklan. And do you know what he had them do with those puppies?

He had them sacrificed. On national television! Or, maybe local television. I don’t remember after all these years. But I remember what I saw on that screen. The two puppies, howling in pain as they were sacrificed at Lacklan’s behest. Then, he had his henchmen dig them shallow graves to toss their corpses into.

Despicable.

Gilly, Chris Chaos, The Freak...none of our resident sideshow acts would ever stoop so low.

Yet you deride me for being barbaric? Senseless? Unresearched?”


Charlie snickers at the falsehoods. He shakes his head from side to side, ignoring the throbbing pain behind his eyes.

“You know, it is bold of a woman with a pornhub profile to be castigating other for their supposed unholiness.

I saw your little bit on Ellen earlier...I noticed you didn’t mention it. I wonder why.

What are you going to say about those raunchy tapes, Sarah?

That they’re made up? Fakes?

Did you upload them to pornhub? Where did they come from?

Why don’t you tell the audience at home. I’m sure they’re dying to know where they can find more. I know I am.”


Charlie grinned as he exposed Lacklan’s foray into adult films.

“You know, for a self-avowed ‘marketing genius’ you really fail to demonstrate your supposed skill with each passing day. Ellen? Really? Did you feel that the only reason the X.W.F. hasn’t been buoyed by support from old white women is because they simply haven’t been exposed to the business?

For someone who claims to research, research, research all day long, you are quite unprepared for little ol’ Charlie.

I mean, come on, flaming tables? In my 23 years in this business I’ve never set a table aflame. But you’d know that if you would take the time to scour through the catacombs of history, and find my old tapes. Old tapes of Charlie laying the smack down on random carnie sons of bitches.

I’m a street fighter, Sarah. I fight the way I’ve fought my whole life. The way I needed to in order to survive on those cold and uncaring streets. Have you ever seen a lit table in the middle of a street? I haven’t. So it’s not my style.”


Charlie looks at the camera in silence for a moment. His mind starts to slow as he tries to recall Sarah’s promotional material. His vision goes blurry. Charlie shakes his mind clear.

“You were only right about one thing, Sarah….I am stuck in the 90s.

Stuck in the days of real wrestling. Of real aggression, anger, rage. Of bloodshed. Of extreme.

But Sarah, I’m in luck.

A ladder match? On night 3 of Relentless, September 27th, 2020?

Well, now that sounds right up this cat’s alley.

And do you know where this silver spoon is going to be that night?”


Charlie dangles the spoon in front of the camera before releasing it from his grip, letting it drop to the floor.

“It won’t be nowhere, baby. Because when the time comes, Sarah, it’s just going to be me and you.

No silver spoons. No lackeys running in to save the day. Just you. And Me.

You want talk about DNA, Sarah?

Look at us. Strip away all the context. All the social baggage. All the grand narratives and all the honors.

I am a six foot three, two hundred seventy five pound grown man. You are one cunt hair above five feet and a whole 90 pounds of skin and bone. I am 100% lean, mean American beef. You’re nothing more than a life-sized blow-up doll with an attitude.

You don't have a chance in hell of going over ol' Charlie come Relentless. I'm too big. Too mean. Too violent.

But you really think you're something special, don't you, baby doll?

But that's the problem with all you young gals. You get too caught up in the moment. Too caught up in the praise, the accolades, the bright lights. You let it go to your head. You lose track of it all. Get lost in your own sauce, as you kids say.

But baby girl don't you worry. When you and I meet again, I will be making history. Raising the bar. Setting precedent. Moving the industry forward.

As we approach our date night, oh dear Sarah, you just need to ask yourself one question.

Are you sure you're ready to lose it all?"

[Image: qRPvsfj.gif]

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9/27/2020 - ???
2x Heavymetalweight Champion
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