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Jim "the Jim" Jimson · **12-12-2020, 12:00 AM**

GM Note: Charlie was having difficulty posting this promo which he was in contact with us about before the deadline. The RP was done prior to the deadline and so we allowed Jim to post it for him at 12:00. That is why the RP is being accepted past the deadline and not DQ'd. Because we were made aware of the issues prior to 11:59.

Charlie had troubles logging on so I had to post his for him

Charlie: C’mon, man! We gotta spice up our tag team entrance! I’m the T.V. champ now, Jim. We have to do it for the ratings!

Jim: People need to know about the dolphin menace. They are the most foreboding threat all of mankind has ever faced. Even though you dispatched their would-be champion, Johnny Legend, they will come back even stronger so as to try and weasel their way into our tight little rectums.

Charlie: And you think the best way to fight them is to have two separate entrances where we each hand out stupid fucking pamphlets none of our inbred fans can even read?

Jim: Yes.

Charlie: C’mon, man! We gotta do something bigger than that. Something flashy. Big pyrotechnics. B-list rap songs. And we have to make it controversial. Something that will get views, something that will get clicks. We’re not jobbers anymore, buddy!

A panicked expression flashes across Jim’s face. He stands and begins to pace in the middle of Charlie’s living room.

Jim: No, no. I have to be a jobber. I can’t have an amazing entrance before I go out there and fight for a shot at a real championship. That’s not at all my brand. I’ve built my name off of losing! Being a jobber!

Charlie: What the fuck? I thought you were ever that losing shit? What happened to cool Jim?

Jim: That bastard passed out after taking way more Percocets than any doctor would prescribe!

Charlie: That’s so cool!

Jim: So now I have control of the bod- wait, why is it cool to do drugs and black out? It leaves you vulnerable, makes you look weak and humiliated….and…..oh my god.

Charlie: Drugs are cool!

Jim: Weak….and….vulnerable! Like a jobber! But...cool?

Jim sits back down with a perplexed expression glued to his face. His mind is momentarily paralyzed by the existential crisis.

Charlie: Listen man, Kevin Gates said he’d toss us a few thousand Xbux if we pick this song for our tag team entrances. Just give it a shot!

Charlie plays ‘Dick you Down’ by Kevin Gates off of his stolen iphone.

Jim: Dick you down? What does that even mean? This song is nonsense. Absolute mumble rap trash. No one is going to understand this or how it relates to the dolphin threat.

Charlie: It’s a classic wrestling theme! I think I see what’s going on here….its’ an American-Australian cultural divide! Over here in the states “Dick you Down” is a term for beating somebody in a fight. Beating em’ up real good, tearing em apart. See, he’s going to dick them down by picking them up and bringing them round. Body slams, groin shots, the whole nine yards. And then he’s going to go another round with them...you know, like boxing! It’s a fight song!

Jim: Well I guess that makes sense, but it doesn’t really fit my jobber billing to have a theme song all about how tough I am and how I’m going to win my match with powerful moves.

Charlie: I like cool Jim way more. Can you bring him back? You’re pretty fucking lame now that I think about it.

Jim: You know, that’s really hurtful Charlie. My mother taught me that I will never have friends because I’m bald in grade school and I should just give up already, but every early 2000s kids movie taught me that a true friend won’t try to change you, that they’ll accept and support you for who you are and that no matter how grumpy the old man is, you’ll defeat him with a cool plan… but that’s beside the point! I hate to say this Charlie, but you're not a very nice friend!

Charlie: Holy shit, calm down, Jimson. Jesus I miss Cool Jimson

Charlie pulls a blunt out of his pocket and sparks it to ease his nerves. He takes a few puff before handing the blunt to Jim. Jim refuses.

Jim: I don’t do drugs.

Charlie: You just said you did a bunch of percocet! This is just weed laced with coke! Come on, man.

Jim: No, Cool Jim does drugs! And I hate him! Freebasing cocaine? Smoking fat doinks? That’s not what I’m about!

Charlie: Fucking hell….are you at least ok with the theme song?

Jim: I’m not so sure about that song. It doesn’t really fit the Dolphin Destruction squad, you know?

Charlie: What the fuck is the dolphin destruction squad!

Jim: We are! D.D.S.! Dolphin Destruction Squad!

Charlie: What? No! We’re the Dirty Dick Soldiers, Jim! D.D.S.!

Jim: My dick’s not dirty!

Charlie: There’s no way our dick isn’t dirty. You fucked Greg-, er, Sarah in a bathroom stall! That bitch is nasty!

Jim: Well, I have been itching a lot lately. And it hurts to pee.

Charlie looks exasperated as he keeps hitting the blunt. He reaches down and drinks some biyobi water to wash down the little bits of weed and tobacco that flew into his mouth from the last inhalation.

Charlie: You want some, Jim? This shit is good. It’s got Biyobi supplements. Vitamin 37, chock full of it. Works like steroids, but doesn’t show up on any of the tests.

Charlie hands the bottle to Jim. Jim smells the biyobi water.

Jim: This smells like Micheal Graves’s sweat.

Jim takes precisely one little sip of it.

Jim: Yeah that’s just Graves’ sweat with strawberry flavoring and some sort of mind control agent.

Charlie: Huh? What are you talking about? That’s prime shit! The Biyobi consultant gave it to me! How do you even know what Micheal Graves’ sweat tastes like? You been sucking him off, too?

Jim: When I won the fatal four way I had to go against Graves. He’s so out of shape and disgusting, he was sweating all over the ring. It was flying off of his body every time he ran against the ropes, it was gross. Some of it landed in my mouth. It’s definitely the primary ingredient in this.

Charlie: No way, this stuff is good! It’s way more supplemental, and like, enhanced, than tap water! That’s what the guy said!

Jim: Nah. This is gross. It has some walmart brand strawberry flavoring and a mind control ingredient. That’s all it is. You probably shouldn’t drink this.

Jim hands the bottle of biyobi water back to Charlie.

Charlie: You keep saying ‘mind control ingredient’? What are you talking about? Like nicotine? How would you even know this?

Jim: I would tell you, but the story is too cool, cool Jimson might come out, that and the uruguay government might get grumpy.

Charlie: God you’re so fucking lame. Always trying to ruin everything for me! Trying to job, trying to get me off the meth, trying to stop me from drinking my fucking water. Jesus Christ!

Charlie stands up and storms out of the room in a heated departure. Anger flows through his body as he walks into his kitchen. He opens up his mostly empty fridge as he goes to grab a budweiser can out of the fridge. He sees Jim’s sissy little cruiser drinks sitting on the middle shelf. A smile spreads across Charlie’s face as a wicked idea comes to mind. He reached into the cabinet next to the fridge and grabs an orange pill bottle. He pulls two five milligram xanax out of the pill bottle before placing it back in the cabinet. He grabs Jim’s cruiser, pops the cap, and carefully tosses the xannies into the cold beverage. He takes the budweiser and the cruiser and walks back into the living room only to find that Jim has turned on the PS5 and inserted the XWF 2020 game. Jim is playing as himself, and he’s letting Betsy Granger and Atara Themis kick the ever living shit out of him in a handicapped match. Jim seems at ease, as if he had truly achieved inner peace. Charlie shook his head in disappointment before carrying on with his act.

Charlie: I got you a beverage, Jim!

Jim: Oh, a cruiser? Awesome!

Charlie hands Jim the drugged beverage with a friendly smile plastered across his chap lips. He stands in front of Jim as he watches the would-be jobber chug it all down in a few guttural chugs. Jim coughs a bunch and spits a ton of the alcohol out, but that’s just how he drinks his liquor. Charlie nods at Jim expectantly, hoping that the xanax will kick in soon and transform him back to the ultimate puss smasher known across the galaxy as ‘Cool Jim’.

Ten Minutes Later…..

Jim had passed out five minutes ago, but nothing had changed. Charlie had already chugged down a half dozen budweisers just waiting for Cool Jim to pop back to life. So far, nothing. Charlie shrugged as he stood up. He walked over to Jim and reached into his pants pockets. No, not like that!

He reaches into Jimson’s pants pockets and pulls out a pair of raybands shades. He places the raybands onto Jim’s face and gives him a friendly wink and a slap to the face.

Charlie: I got some bitches to go fuck, but when you wake up, Jim, we’re going to party!

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

The screen transitions to a new frame. We see Charlie Nickles standing in front of a gray tapestry emblazoned with the XWF logo. Charlie has taped up his knuckles and seems to be in a jolly mood. A twisted smirk stays stretched across his face as he pounds his left fist into his right palm.
Becky, Becky, Becky...you’re a real piece of shit, you know that? You’re that wretched kind of daughter that drives her mother to the needle and big dick abusers. Trust me, I know a thing or two about shitty, ungrateful children. I know how children can drive you insane, make you want to just smack them, or leave them in a box on the side of a highway….but you, Becky? You put your poor mother through more than I can even imagine.

No matter what you may think your mother did to you, the way you’re treating her now is heinous. She’s just a prop in your show, isn’t she? You bring the whole XWF camera crew into the state penn with you, talking about how much of a bitch and a whore your own mother is. Talking about how you hate her, making her cry, all on camera? Why? You’re not really trying to reconnect with her. You’re not really trying to help her, to provide her some brief moments of joy while she’s trapped in that dirty cell. You’re using her, treating her as some sort of a circus animal. Showing her off to the XWF universe, ‘look at what a bitch my mom is’, ‘look at how ugly my mother is’, ‘look at how much of a stupid fucking cunt my ma is’. Absolutely disgusting. Forcing your imprisoned mother to come onto your little TV spot to be made to look like “the bad woman” so that your “good girl” persona can flourish and get over? You make me sick.

No wonder your mother turned to drugs, crime, and gangbangs with the local high school boys. You came from her. She carried you for nine months. Cared for you, fed you, clothed you: yeah, she didn’t give you everything. She has her own life! But you weren’t even grateful for the things she DID give you! You drove your mother to the edge of a cliff with your incessant bitching, whining, and complaining. Day after day your mere existence drained on your mother. Your negative attitude. Your hateful words. Your spite, Day by day, you wore your mother down. Drove her mad, forced her to be a woman she didn’t want to be. No matter what your mother did to you, you deserved all of it and then some. Don’t blame your poor mother for your failings as a daughter.

Years of vitriol and toxicity directed at your mother….and now, this? You won’t even try to make it right. You won’t even try to reconnect. You won’t do anything to help her as she is crushed by the weight of our prison industrial complex. I am sure she starves each day, you know they don’t get enough food in those prisons. Not unless they buy it from commissary: but let me guess, you don’t fill your mother’s commissary. You don’t care about her: you never did. You’re a rotten apple, bad to the core. Unsalvageable. Your mother has to sit in her jail cell, period blood leaking down her leg because she can’t afford a god damn tampon from the prison shop! And her daughter, who just signed a huge contract with the XWF, doesn't give a damn about her! But you know what, Becky? I do care! I care about your poor mother. Someone has to! You certainly don’t. I watched your little segment with your mom. All you cared about was getting dicked down by that prison guard, you nasty little whore. You know that prison guard probably assaults your mom each and every night, right? You know he takes that baton on his waistband and smacks your mom around with it before tying her up and having his way with her, right? Prison guards and cops are pigs, full stop. They abuse, berate, and assault prisoners like it’s part of their job description. But you didn’t care, did you? In fact, I bet it got you off: thinking of that disgusting pig beating your mom down physically like you used to do emotionally all those years ago.

But just because your mother gave birth to a rotten daughter, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve to enjoy a few packs of hot chips while trapped behind those bars. I’m going to put five dollars on your mom’s commissary account. Yes I am. I’ve been to the penn before, I know what it’s like to be abandoned by your family and left to rot away with nothing in your account. I won’t let you put your mother through that.

But even further….I’m going to do something your mother should’ve done to you a long time ago. I’m going to discipline you. Teach you a lesson. Teach you some fucking respect for your elders. Get ready to pull those trousers down and get spanked, you nasty little girl! Daddy’s got a harsh lesson to teach you.

Charlie stops pounding his fist into his hand so as to crack his knuckles. He takes a brief pause from speaking as he lets the air escape from the joints in his fingers. Each knuckle twist delivers an audible cracking sound.

Not only are you a disrespectful brat, Becky, but you’re also as dumb as a box of bricks. Just one week ago I was a nice guy you’d like to have a few beers with and play a game of pool with, but this week I’m sort of disgusting degenerate? What changed, Becky?! It wasn’t me!

Just a few short weeks ago I was bashing a cat’s skull against a garage door to hype up the pay per view! Before that I was calling Ned’s mom a sexy milf and telling Chris Chaos to have his way with her! Before that I was terrorizing Sarah Lacklan and Kenzi Grey all over XWF television! Where the fuck have you been?

You really don’t know who I am, do you, little girl? I am and always have been the monster that’s hiding under your bed. The disgusting pervert looking at you through your windows. The deranged psychopath planning on bringing his guns to the shopping mall. That man with nothing to lose and a heart made of black tar heroin.

You say you’re the “smartest lil bitch you’ll ever meet”....but I call bullshit on that one, Becks! I’m the fastest rising star in the wrestling world. I haven’t lost a match in months. Every other week I’m the main event, plastered all over the screen! But you still don’t know who the fuck I am, or what the fuck I am about. You claim you ‘researched’ me, that you ‘looked all over youtube and wikipedia’ but that you were still unaware of exactly what type of monster you’re walking into that ring with.

Stupid little girl. You don’t even know that you’re walking into a situation that you won’t be able to walk out of.

You say you’ve fought monsters worse than me. You say you’ve seen things we can’t even imagine: that you’ve confronted darkness and horrors that would leave most men frozen in fear. But who are these monsters? Where are their corpses? Where do they lay, slain and defeated? You didn’t tell us, Becks!

Just vague grandstanding about theoretically evils you want us to believe you defeated a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away…..

Bullshit.

You can put on a show for the fans, dress up and act out your little gimmick. But we both know it doesn’t change who you really are, and what you’ve really done in your life. You’re just a young child living out her daydreams. You’re finally off of the playstation and into the real world…..and it’s scaring you. At first it was fine: you fought Ash Quinn, Geri Vayden: real nobodies. But now? Now you’re scared. You’re fighting a real bonafide champion. Someone bigger than you, stronger than you, faster than you and willing to go further than you’ve ever dreamed. You’re bluffing. Acting tough, trying to show your feathers in hopes that I lose my focus and go pick on Atara. But Becky...I can see through your thinly-veiled myths. I see the tension in your voice, I can hear the frog in your throat. You’re scared to face me. You should be. I’m a scary man. I’m big and I’m bad and I don’t give a single fuck about your health or safety.

You know who else doesn’t give a single fuck about your health or safety, little Becksters?

Atara.

She’s using you, but you’re too blind to see the truth.

Atara is like a dolphin. But not just any dolphin, no. She’s a killer whale. Why?

Most people don’t realize orcas are dolphins. They never treat them like they should treat a dolphin: they treat them like they should treat a whale. You see whales are kind creatures of the sea, proud and brave. But dolphins? Dolphins are nasty creatures. Backstabbers. Deceitful. Conniving.

But you, Becky? You’re just a little seal pup, sitting on shore, finally on your own in this cold world for the first time. And Atara’s an orca, coming up to shore to swallow you. Devour you, take you for all you got and leave you a breathless, lifeless corpse. Consume all your positive energy and redirect it to her own growth.

Atara’s days are numbered, she knows this. She’s just hoping you can take a few of those beatings that should be for her, help her preserve her career just a little bit longer. It’s a futile mission, but one she has committed herself to none the less.

You two ladies don’t know what’s coming for you. You two pretty women don’t know what’s in store for you, what I have prepared. All this time you’ve been talking about Vayden, Quinn, Myst…..it’s all wasted breath. You two seem stuck in the shooting star division. Every other word out of your mouth is an irrelevant tangent, speaking on opponents that you won’t be seeing this Saturday.

Girls….you’re overlooking me. That’s not a good move. That’s not good for your health! Overlooking Charlie….to focus on your little women’s division?

Charlie chuckles to himself.

That’s the worst mistake you could possibly make.

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