“Your name is not on the list. I’m going to need to see some ID, sir.”

“ID? Whachu need ID for? Come on brotha I holla at the honeys in here all the time!”

“You’re not on the list. I’m going to need to see some ID.”

“Well check the list again! I’m a hot commodity in this bitch!”

“There’s no Charlie Dimes on the list. You know what? You’re starting to annoy me, big guy. Get to the back of the line and make sure you’ve got your ID out.”

“Playa what in the sam hell are ya yappin about? I’m tha big chief dawg! I’m tha thick dick in ya chick! I’m tha nig-”

A harsh shove sends Charlie Dimes staggering back a few feet. Dimes nearly trips over his baggy orange jeans before staggering himself. His oversized tye dye t-shirt flaps around as Dimes stumbles back. The green bandana wrapped across his forehead begins to drip with precipitation as Dimes grows more frustrated.

“Listen here, sucka! You’re trippin hard! I’m the longest reigning TV champion of the modern era!”

“Sounds fake. Back of the line!”

"Come on playa, don't be this way! I beat Bobby Bourbon in a battle royale!"

"HA! Yeah right. Fat chance of that."

"Exactly, G! Fat Chance! That was his moniker!"

As Charlie Dimes tries to plead his case with the bouncer the single ugliest woman in the club walks up to the entrance and laughs maniacally when she sees Charlie Dimes struggling to gain admission. Her ass is as flat as her washboard chest and her breath stinks like a Chris Page cocktail. Behind her we see a few more women walking around the club dressed like harlots. A couple brunettes, a few bipedal dolphins, and even a sexy stingray can be seen walking around in the club.

“Hahaha you fat fuck! Not so easy getting in here when you don’t have that TV belt anymore, is it? You better look while you can, because you’ll never get to touch this! Woooo!”

The woman in the scantily clad outfit strikes a clumsy pose that is intended to appear vaguely sexual.

“Who tha hell is that broad?”

“That’s Champagne.”

“Well how the fuck did she get in there if I can’t get in there!”

“She got in with the VIPs!”

The bouncer points to an upper balcony inside the club. Sitting up in a semi-circular platform overlooking the dance floor we see Chris Page and his inner circle.They’re popping overpriced bottles and telling the DJ to play Chris Page’s theme song on repeat. They continually assure the DJ that the partygoers will eventually get really into it and start singing along, but the DJ continues playing the generic club hits of the 2010s.

“Hey, I know those biyatches! I beat the shit out of most of em!”

“Yeah, yeah, back of the line.”

Champagne laughs as she walks back into the depths of the club. Dimes glares at her before shifting his gaze back onto the club bouncer.

"Don't be a sucka! You gotta know me, mane! I used to come this joint all the time with that pretty little goldy around my waist! You gotta remember it! You know tha one, playa! Got that pretty jewel on it, says XWF television champion! Don't you remember ol' Dimebag, G?"

The bouncer shakes his head from side to side.

"Doesn't ring a bell. Do you got a belt? Lemme see it."

"Yeah I got a belt!"

"An XWF belt?"

"I'm tha longest reigning TV champ of all time, playa!"

"Show me the belt."

"Well G, I ain't got it on me!"

"Then you can't get into the club."

The bouncer crosses his arms as Dimes throws his hands up in frustration. Dimes turns around to head home. His heart sinks and his face curls into a frown. He looks dejectedly down the lonely road to the Steubenvilla.

Then a big smile flashes across Charlie's face. He races towards the gray trash can he sees on the corner of the street. Once he reaches it he immediately begins digging through the contents of the can, sifting through the old hotdogs and tossing out dirty diapers. He finds a few cigarrete butts in the trash that he pockets for himself. The people waiting in line to get into the club recoil in disgust as the tye-dyed bum goes through the trash can. His entire upper body is inside the can as he digs into the way bottom of it.

"Cmon, cmon, cmon....I know they always keep a few spares in these things!"

"Man get the fuck out of here!"

"Aha! Got it!"

Charlie Dimes pulls himself out of the trashbin. He has a huge smile spread across his face. He tosses the heavymetalweight championship over his shoulder as he walks back up to the bouncer. As he nears the burly security professional the bouncer simply shakes his head from side to side and points down the road.

"Nu uh buddy. You've gotta go."

"Whuddya mean! This is my belt homie! HEAVY-METAL-WEIGHT championship! This right here is one of the primo belts, homie, lemme tel-"

"I'm not buying your bullshit today. Take it elsewhere."

"Sucka! You lucky I don't bust yo jaw right here and leave you cracked out on the blacktop!"

The bouncer took a few steps to Dimes. The bouncer looked down upon Dimes as he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. Dimes was a big man himself, but still the bouncer towered over him. Dimes looked to the bouncer, then looked into the club behind him. Dimes threw up his hands in frustration.

"Fuck this! I don't even wanna get into yo lame ass, crusty ass, no-disco havin' ass club!"

Dimes storms off, walking into the direction pointed by the bouncer. The bouncer grunts before taking his spot back at the entrance of the club. The bouncer starts checking IDs and working the door as Dimes walks down the sidewalk, past dozens and dozens of abandoned businesses. Half-lit neon signs, dirty windows, and barred doors are the only company Dimes finds as he continues to walk down the seemingly empty street. Dimes shook his head while cussing under his breath. His right hand instinctively curls around the plate of his heavymetalweight championship.

"I used to have it all! Honeys on fleek and money for weeks! I was the damn man! Fucking Demos."

Dimes spit on the ground as a scowl spread across his usually jolly face.

"Losing to that bitchmade boy Barf?! Now I can't get into the god damned club! Fuckin' horseshit. How tha hell is tha pimp sposed to get him sum hoes if I ain't got no damn gold! Aluminum only takes ye so far!"

Dimes looks down at the Heavymetalweight belt before pulling his head back in disgust. His hand grips the gray plate even tighter.

"Loser, loser, loser! He needs to get our shit together! We had it all just a month ago! TV titles, tag titles bout to be in hand, all the bitches on my tip, money filling our pockets, we had it all! Now what tha fuck do we got?! Just a piece of trash."

Charlie Dimes shakes his head in frustration as he turns the corner. As he turns onto the side street he stumbles into a pair of sorority girls handing out flyers for a local event. The two blonde bombshells are dressed in red shirts and khaki green booty shorts. Dimes tries his best to make eye contact with the college aged girls, but his gaze inevitably lowers to their chests.

"Hi there! Were you wanting a flyer?"

The taller of the bombshells asks excitedly as a warm smile plasters in place on her face. She extends a flyer out to Dimes, who mindlessly takes it as he brings his gaze up to look the taller woman in her green eyes.

"Hey there Cinderelly, why don't you let me take a look at your pretty little toesies and see if I got a shoe for em?"

Dimes winks at the woman, who seems completely unbothered by the creepy ass introduction.

"Oh my god! Is that like, a REAL belt?!"

The shorter woman asks excitedly as her small hands came up to her mouth. Dimes looks to her with a grin on his face as he slides the defunct championship belt off of his shoulder. He extends it out to the shorter of the two honeys.

"It sure is, baby! Mac Daddy won it in a triple threat match against Doc D'Ville and Sarah Lacklan. Did you want to touch it?"

"OH MY GOD YES!"

The short woman bursts out in excitement. Her hands are all over the plate as soon as Charlie Dimes offers the belt. She leans over the belt, closely inspecting it, her mouth agape as she looks at her reflection in the cheap metal.

"You really beat Lacklan and Doc? That's incredible! We'd love to have you at the Mayday celebration!"

Dimes looks back over to the taller woman.

"The what now, honeybunchesofoats?"

"Our wrestling show!"

The beautiful woman points at the flyer in Charlie's hand. His gaze follows her finger, albeit with a brief stop to stare at her tatas. After a few seconds of eyeballing, Dimes looks down to the flyer.


"Oh my god yes you should totally come! You can be our main event, I'm sure Dolly will be ok with it! I mean, just look at your championship belt! You'd be so great on our show!"

"Ohhhhh the Mac Daddy will be coming, all right!"

"Really? Do you mean it?!?!"

"Ohhhhh yeeaaaaaah baby! And I'll even do you pretty little ladies one better...not only am I opting in to your little show, honeycakes......"

Dimes pulls the championship belt back from the hussies and slings it over his shoulder once more.

"I'm in to defend the top prize against an opponent of MY choosing! DIMES OUT BABY!"

Charlie Dimes hits a 'bang bang' pose as the two women flutter and blush. The shorter woman begins using her hand as a fan to cool her face down as beads of sweat begin to drip down to her chest. The taller woman places her hand on her forehead as a hot flash of excitement runs through her. Charlie Dimes confidently walks past the swooning woman. He hears them gossiping about him as he walks down the street a few more paces.

"I bet he has a huge dick!"

"Even if it's small, I'd suck the nut out of it all night long on Mayday!"

Dimes turned another corner as he started to near the Steubenvilla. This part of town was a bit more lively. As Dimes looked around he saw a few people milling around on the streets. He saw an open movie theatre down the street. A few people were waiting by the ticket booth hoping to catch a flick. The theater's offerings were written out on the sign.

Thunder Knuckles © - vs - Charlie Nickles Xtreme Rules Match

Atara Themis & Betsy Granger - vs - Charlie Nickles & Jim Jimson Tag Team Mud Match

Dimes chuckles as he looked over to the other side of the street. A rundown antiques store and a sketchy looking 7-11 were placed roughly half a mile before an empty stretch of gravel road. At the end of the long gravel road stood a towering villa. Built with literal tons of sandstone and marble, this ancient looking palace seems incredibly out of place in this town. Dimes looks to his side and sees a conveniently placed trash bin. Charlie slides the championship belt off of his shoulder and tosses it into the trash bin for safekeeping before he makes his way back to the lair of the Demos.

A small smile stuck to Charlie's face as he began the somewhat long walk to the palace. Despite his disappointment with how March Madness went down, Dimes was thoroughly satisfied with the thought of a threesome on May 1st. Those women swallowed his bait, hook, line, and sinker. Charlie Dimes was a simple man with simple desires: pussy and disco.

Along the walk Charlie started to contemplate exactly how much vagina accompanied the universal championship belt. He did the math, and he thought with extreme confidence that at least one hundred and eighteen vaginas were likely to accompany the universal championship belt. It was the most enticing championship belt in the whole world, after all. Charlie's smile grew wider.

Then it collapsed into a frown as his heart sunk.

Could Demos really beat Chris Page? Dimes truly didn't know. The match was standard rules, which undoubtedly favored the vanilla style of Chris Page. Demos was coming hot off of a pair of losses and historically hadn't fared well against Cataclysm members. Dimes didn't think highly of Chris Page: he knew that someone like Charlie Nickles would have no problems breaking Page into two. But could a madman like Demos pull it off? All Demos had done since securing control of the body was lose Charlie's television belt and let Jim fall onto the injured reserve list. Both were serious setbacks to Charlie's wrestling career, and Dimes could only blame Demos for the string of failures.

Dimes's mind started to turn to the in-ring logistics of the match up. Chris Page was an inch taller than Demos, but he weighed a good deal less. Chris Page was a ring technician and Demos was a raving, or perhaps scheming, lunatic. Chris Page is on a hot streak and Demos is just trying to get his feet back under him. The odds look to be in Page's favor.

Charlie's stomach churned as he walked onto the property.

'Maybe I should take control of the body for the match....I know that I can beat Chris Page!'

Charlie stopped on a dime as he began to ponder the thought. Charlie was only able to delve into the notion for a few seconds before a long forgotten voice broke through the silence.

"Have you seen Demos anywhere?!"



Jeffy, once a hospital janitor befriended and then assaulted by Charlie Nickles, was standing in the middle of the property with a video camera in his hands and a look of concern on his face.

"The XWF sent me out here to shoot some promotional materials! Chris Page is throwing a hissy fit backstage because no one is talking about him right now! He says Demos has a contractual obligation to put his dick in his mouth, which I'm not sure is true. Either way, the XWF called Jeffy up and offered me a job! Theo told me he loved the promos I posted on reddit last time Charlie had a match this big! They wanted me to come out and shoot some footage for this bout! Put the special little Jeffy touch on it. But I can't find Demos anywhere!"

"Awww that mofucka left last night. He's ridin' out to Doc's place."

Jeffy sighed as he looked towards the ground dejectedly.

"Oh of course. This is exactly my luck. They wanted me to get these promos filmed ASAP! They said I was just the man to break through the distractions and get Demos to focus on talking in front of a camera in some sort of weird, ritualistic preparation for his match. UGH! Just when Jeffy gets a big break, Charlie takes it away from me!"

Dimes couldn't help but feel compassion when he looks at the sad man.

"Maybe ol' Puff Daddy himself can help a playa like you out."

Jeffy looks up with a curious glance.

"What do you mean? Help me how?"

Dimes smiled as he piqued Jeffy's interest. If Demos was going to be an underdog in this match, the least Dimes thought he could do was try his best to knock Chris Page off his game with some biting trash talk.

"I look just like that fat prick! Why don't you go ahead and start filming and let the Dime Daddy lay down some harsh truths? You can just tell the asswipes at corporate that you told that smelly bum to take his mask off and dress up like a set-reppin' discomaniac! Daddy Dimes can shoot tha shit with tha best of em'."

"That's a great idea!"

Jeffy reached into his pocket and pulled out a half sheet of paper before passing it over to Charlie Dimes.

"I wrote down some talking points! If you just stick to these, the whole thing is going to go off without a hitch!"



“I’m the best thing since sliced bread. When we fight I’m going to let the good times roll. I’ll be firing on all cylinders. I’ll wipe my ass with you in the ring. Someone else will have sex with your romance partner. I am the stick by which you are measured. I am a dragon. Your jig is up. The ball is in your court.

Am I doing it right? You just want me to read off this list of cliches and idioms while sounding like some sort of strung out biker?"

"Yeah, exactly! That’s perfect. You’re really bringing a Chris Page energy to this promo!"

"Shouldn’t a playa sound unique? Isn’t this just rehashing everything every other goony has already said, right down to the boilerplate template and filler insults?"

"Yes it’s exactly that! It sounds just like something everyone has already heard a hundred times! That’s good! People like the stuff they’re familiar with. If you sound just like the last dozen wrestlers they liked, they’re going to like you too! You don’t want to do anything too artsy or psychedelic. That’s not en vogue! People want a generic tough guy with his hand on a bottle of booze, his arm around a floozy, and a shiny belt around his waist! Chris Page gives the people what they want! Try to sound like him!"

"Ok, ok, I’ll do my best. Should I restart?"

"Nah, don’t worry about it- just keep going. We can leave all this extra footage on the cutting room floor when we go to post-production."

"Ok, ok.

*Cough.*

I will drop the bomb on you, at the right time and at the right place. I came in under the radar to take control by any means necessary. Listen here, chump, because I have something important to say:

I play chess, not checkers. Not even chinese checkers, which is not a more complicated version of checkers, but a whole different game all together.

Everytime you open your mouth you put your foot in it. When you go to spit that childish dribble out of your mouth you end up choking on your own unclipped toenails. You get so much slobber on your foot I could swear you’re into it. I bet you spend half your paycheck on footpics from onlyfans! The only way you can ever get any is if you pay for it. That little man-woman super villain chick is going to stop showing up in your bed when the money stops coming to your bank accounts!"

"Cut! Cut! You’re going way off script here, Dimes."

"Whaddya talm bout? I got through the ‘drop a bomb’ and ‘checkers’ bit and then all the way into the ‘foot in the mouth’ and the ‘you have to hire prostitutes’ ones! I’m already halfway through the list of tired phrases!"

"You’re putting way too much flavor into the stew! Wrestling is for white people, and you’re making this potroast way too spicey! Leave the 21st century references and hyperbolic descriptions out of it! That’s not the champion’s style. Keep with the outdated language! It’s all people know nowadays!"

"Whaddya even talm bout fuh real playa?"

"Come on man think about it. Take one of the idioms on that list...what’s the next one?"

Charlie Dimes looks down at the half sheet of paper briefly before looking back up at the cameraman.

"When you put my name on the card tickets start selling like hotcakes!"

"See! Selling like hotcakes! That doesn’t mean anything anymore! Who buys hotcakes? Are stores frequently selling out of hotcakes these days? When was the last time you ate a hotcake? I bet most people who are going to watch this promo don’t even know what a hotcake is!"

But they love it! I swear to God the shit must have electrolytes cause it’s what those asses crave when they’re planted in front of their TVs. People don’t know what the phrase really means, but they know that it’s good! They know that it’s a phrase they’re supposed to be impressed by! Come on, this is really easy. All you have to do to get over is sound like everybody else!"

"Ok, ok, lemme try again…..

I do not run to the beat of other people’s drums. You’re not going to be able to capture the proverbial lightning inside of your proverbial bottle when you meet me inside that ring. You’re not a boss like me. I’m going to put you to work when I slap you silly inside that ring. I am a brick wall. I am also a dragon. That’s why you should listen closely to my words of wisdom.

Sit back and take notes, mark my words like a spanish emphasis. I’m the cream of the crop, and the cream always rises to the top."

"Ok, perfect! Now, while you’re talking about cream, make some premature ejaculation jokes! Chris Page has been going off online making fun of you all for being so slow to post videos talking about him, or something. I don’t know, the dude’s got on a serious ego trip! But either way, everyone thinks it would be funny if you made some jokes about how Chris Pages always comes first!"

"Didn’t Demos already do that bit with Warstein at the grand showcase?"

Yeah, and it was funny then, so it will be funny now too! You’re starting to catch on to how this works, aren’t you? Ok, go!

"Leave it to Chronically Soft Chris Page to think that coming first means coming best. No wonder women seem to hop in and out of his life like school girls through a hopscotch square. Jessica, Roberta, Micheal Grav-"

"WOAH MAN! NOT COOL!"

"Huh? I’m just doing what you said, playa!"

"You just dead named Miss Fury! That’s super transphobic!"

"Pffft she ain’t transgender!"

"She has a dick, dude!"

"Miss Fury has a dick?"

"Oh come on man, you know it’s rude to speculate and talk about things like that! Just let her live her life man!"

"Oh man come on playa! I am lettin her live her life. I ain’t got no beef wif her! Demos is the one callin her evil, an abomination, a monster! That masked up weirdo is the one you need to talk to about respecting her! He’s fixin to plow her ass with a barbed wire rake next time he sees her!"

"Man just get back to the promo! You were doing so well! You sounded just like every other jackass that’s won the universal championship before! People are definitely going to go for it, now go ahead and close it out!"

"Playa I don’t wanna do this shit no mo. I’m tired of playin games! I’m just tryna get some fuckin pussy and you have me over here playing dress up and actin like some sort of used up douchebag! I need a damn break."

Dimes pulls out a blunt and sparks it. He starts inhaling the chronic as the tobacco wrap containing the marijuana begins to burn.

"Maaan throw on some entertainment! I want some funny shit, playa. We’ll get back to this stupid shit in a minute."


"We can't just quit now! I love smoking green crack as much as the next guy, but we're supposed to be doing business here Dimes!"

"Calm down, playa! Take a few hits of this shit, it’ll set you right. Shit, why don’t we throw on some Chris Page promos and laugh our asses off? That’ll be pretty cliche, right? Watching your opponent’s shit while filming your own shit just so you can rebuff the shit they’re saying over elsewhere on the internet! I bet that could make a pretty good video, huh?"

Demos passes Jeffy the blunt. The janitor turned filmmaker calms down as he puffs on the dutch a few times. Dimes gestures for Jeffy to follow him over to a conviently located couch situated in front of a large television. Jeffy reaches into his pocket as he passes the blunt back to Dimes. Jeffy goes to the XWF application on his phone and puts on some light entertainment for Dimes to enjoy as he puffs on the marijuna cigar. Jeffy screen casts his phone onto the smart television mounted on the wall.

"Oh Yaweh have mercy on a pimp. Why are we startin out wit this useless fuckmaid shit? If this Jessica trick was worth yappin about he would’ve shown her off back then! Lord knows the ratings back then sure could’ve used the help."

Dimes settles in as the origins story begins to play.

"Ohhh lawwwwd this trick is boring! When is she going to take her tits out? Sissy Page needs to learn how to handle his hos!

Oh Jesus fucking Christ another god damned cliche! The self insert male protagonist walks off from the bar only for the busty beauty to desperately call out for his attention! Oh, and he states that he doesn’t even want to pick her up. The stories really write themselves these days, huh?"

Dimes puffs the cigar once more before passing it over to Jerry Dimes.

"Ohhhhh it’s a Vita connection. Yeah, that’s super relevant to today’s XWF. Vita’s really running circles around the competition over there on the bench..."

Dimes looks over to Jeffy as the blunt burns to a stump.

"Light anotha one, J Dawg!"

Dimes reaches into his pocket and pulls out a much larger blunt. He passes that blunt over to Jeffy who gleefully accepts it. Jeffy positions the blunt in his mouth as Demos flames the chronic.

"Ohhhhh now we have lil Sissy Page just talkin over a black screen…..this shit’s going to be so bad it’s good."

......

"OHHHH MYYYYY GOOOOOOOOOD shut the fuck up about Robert Main and Mini Kropotkin! No one gives a flying fuck! Jesus this guy’s ego is doing double duty to compensate for the inadequacies tucked inside of his tights. Everyone knew you were behind Robert’s attack for months, but still you made us all sit through hours of self-aggrandizing cinematography to reach a big reveal that sold exactly zero tickets.

Attacking Robert to get a big pop….oh how original. Nickles did that exact same shit at Relentless! Try planting your flag in some unfertilized soil for once ye washed up dildo."


Jeffy passes the blunt over to Dimes who takes a couple hits as Chris Page continues to ramble over a blank screen about March Madness.

"The only reason the stiffs in suits didn’t veto your little vanity project was because the 32 man disco was the showcase of the season. No one gave a rat’s ass about your little angle, all eyes were on the tournament!

It didn’t have to be that way, you know. That title is supposed to mean something! Ain’t no reason some little dance featuring Captain Future and Uncle Ruckus should draw more money than Sissy Page’s entire expansion!

Sissy Page, you thought you were tickling our taints oh so tantalizingly, having us about to burst for months at a time.

Jesus you’re fucking delusional.

Like, worse than Charlie Nickles levels of hallucinogenic!

Get a grip, Page, or I’ll go grab my grip and put the tip of my smith and wesson inside that tight little mouth of yours! I wonder if homeboy will be so talkative when he’s deepthroating steel! If you’re going to try and call my click out for not speaking on your name you better come correct before you get to steppin! You thought we were all gonna bust when you gave us the big reveal? I’ll show you what it really means to bust!"

"Calm down! calm down!"

Demos reaches inside of his waistband as he takes another hit from his cigar. He pulls out a pistol and starts waving it around as Jeffy scrambles to the edge of the couch.

"Talk about fucking played out! We’re really out here trying to rerun Main versus Page? That shit was all over the airwaves in 2019! We don’t need it again! These two dudes can’t seem to get each other’s dicks out of their mouths. Their codependency is disgusting. If they’re not fighting they’re tag teaming, if they’re not tag teaming they’re inserting each other into shoot promos for cards they’re not even on!

We get it bud, you’re your OWN MAN! Now prove it to yourself by never putting Robert’s cock inside your mouth during your promos again! If you want something inside your mouth so bad open it up and I'll stick MY tip in!"

Jeffy yells out advice from the edge of the couch while he fumbles with the videocamera.

"Talking about gay dick sucking always scores well with the internet! Keep it up!"

"Pffffft."

Dimes tucks the gun back into his waistband as he brings the blunt to his lips again. Dimes settles down as the weed begins to take hold of him. He starts laughing as the Page promos continue playing. Jeffy calms down and sits next to Dimes again. Jeffy holds his hand out as he waits for the quickly shrinking blunt to be passed to him.

"Dude’s really trying to get points by pointing out that the resident insane person doesn’t know everyone in the hall of legends, huh? Oih bowie."

Charlie Dimes continues to smoke the blunt down to a stub as he listens to Page deliver supposedly devastating verbal blows.

"HA! This dumb motherfucker just said that Charlie Nickles main evented Relentless in back to back years! What a fucking doofus! Man, whatever he’s smoking, I want a hit of it! Did he really just say that Charlie main evented in 2019? That dude wasn't doing anything but beating on Connie during Relentless night three in 2019!"

Jeffy looked at Dimes awkwardly as Page's promos kept rolling.

"HA! They made this punk ass bitch the co main event! Ohhhhh boy."

Dimes slaps his knee as he coughs from smoke. He finally passes the tiny blunt over to Jeffy who is all too excited to bring it up to his own lips.

"That’s fucking rich! What a fucking universal champion. Sissy Page is out here releasing audio snippets he recorded from inside his rental car, bitching about how he’s not a big enough draw to main event at the Webster Bank Arena! Newsflash bucko: if management pulled you from the main event, it’s because they weren’t selling any fucking tickets!

Now of course no one was buying any tickets to see Demos. That weirdo gives ME the heebejeebies. That creepy ass mask and shit? Who’s going to bring their kids to see that?

That’s where you’re supposed to come in! You’re the champion, you’re supposed to be the pretty face they splash across posters and billboards to draw heat and sell tickets! How many people can Bridgeport’s arena fit? 5,000? Maybe 10,000? You don’t have 5,000 fans in Connecticut, Sissy Page?!

Guess not. So management had to make an executive decision and pull your sorry ass from the top spot.

In a few very short months, Demos elevated the television championship to a whole new pedigree. He may be a stinky creeper, but fuck it, that OG knows how to make power moves! That savage gold now shines so brightly that it takes precedence over the crown jewel of the industry. The beauty of the television division has finally been unleashed, an entire division resuscitated by the efforts and devotions of that bleeding heart commy!

And now Chris Page can't even main event television events. Even with that ever so edgy title belt around his waist, Chris Page can't lock up the top billing!

Tough shit, playa hater. It sucks for all of us that your reign as universal champion has been so notably lackluster. But you don’t have to bitch about it while sobbing inside your shower! Or wherever the fuck you are! I mean seriously, invest in a god damned camera. Use your cellphone if you have to. Your shit’s so formulaic, and that recipe ain’t cookin’ up primo guac. Start off with some boring dialogue with a girl who’s going to be back to working in porn pretty soon that does nothing but give the audience some long winded exposition, then cut to a black screen while Sissy Page cries through the speakers.

This better be the last fucking one. I’m not watching another one of these low budget shit posts. You’d think a god damned universal champion could afford a production team."


"He has another one after this, actually. You’ll never believe how it goes. It starts with a clip from one of Robert Main’s matches, of course, then Chris Page talks to Jessica for a bit more about nothing in particular, I mean really they could’ve just texted each other, but that’s not really the point because then they actually DO meet again. And I think it’s hinted at that Jessica is Miss Fury? But I don’t really know, I wasn’t watching super closely, they were pretty much just talking about the same stuff and there was some sexual tension, but my dog started dry humping my disabled cat so I had to go pry him loose! But when I got back the screen was black again and Chris was talking about how Demos oughta be scared of him, I think, it was actually kind of hard to hear him over the oldies music playing in the background….."

Charlie Dimes rolls his bloodshot eyes as Jeffy flicks the burnt up blunt roach across the room.

"Ah fuck my pussy with a rake, mom."

"uh.....what, mate?"

"It’s a new saying. I learned it from the cool cats at the disco. It means I don’t want to fuckin watch that shit. "

"Oh come on man, just one man. Actually, two more. Come one man you can pull through! I know they're boring, but I'm sure you've got more weed! Let Jeffy roll up another dozen or so blunts, D Dawg!"

"Uggggghhh fine, but only if you roll up some pearls, J Dawg!"

Dimes reaches into his jeans and pulls out a sizable bag of weed as well as a pack of swisher sweet cigars. He throws both over to Jeffy.

"I gotta take a piss! Don’t smoke that shit without me!"

Dimes steps out and walks out of the room briskly, his bladder barely holding. Dimes pushes the door open and steps into the hallway. His head swivels on his neck as his eyes squint.

"Now where tha hell are tha shittas...."

Dimes walked through the vast villa without a clue. As if traversing a maze Dimes found himself surprised with what he found every single time he turned a corner. He walked up a flight of stairs and found himself in a cold and lonely hallway with just one metal door set along the wall. Dimes shrugged, figuring the odds were pretty decent that this could be the bathroom. Dimes opened the door and stepped inside the room as he searched for a urinal.

"LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

Charlie Nickles stops fiddling around with his shackles as he shoots out of his chair. The weakened chains snap free from the table as Nickles sprints towards the door with a manic smile spreading beneath his wide eyed stared. Dimes jumps out of the room and slams the door shut just as Charlie Nickles reaches the doorway. The prisoner's body slams against the door repeatedly as Dimes clicks the lock in place.

"I WILL GUT YOU! I WILL RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR ASSHOLE, DIMES! LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

The prisoner's body continues to slam against the locked door as Dimes takes a few steps back. Charlie Dimes wipes sweat from the space underneath his bandana as Nickles continues to scream from inside the sealed room.

"I DESERVE TO BE FREE! THIS IS MY BODY! THIS BODY IS MINE! THIS WHOLE PLACE IS MINE!"


Dimes backed all the way up to the far wall as Nickles continued to pound against the door. Dimes slowly stopped hyperventilating as Nickles seemed to tire out. After some time the man behind the door grew silent. Charlie Dimes looked from side to side to see if anyone else was seeing this shit. Alas, no one was.

"Please......help me."


Dimes turned his head back towards the door as Nickles pleaded with him from inside the locked room.

"Please, old friend. Demos is torturing me in here. I-.....I'm sorry....I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just so.....afraid. I think he's going to kill me...."


Dimes took a few hesitant steps towards the door as Nickles continued to beg for mercy.

"I'm so thirsty....I haven't had anything to drink since that psycho threw me in here. Please...just help me, Dimey. We've been through so much together, haven't we?"

Charlie Dimes put a hand on his side of the door as Charlie Nickles plead his case.

"I...I...."

"Can you just tell me one thing, dear friend?"

Dimes spoke with hesitation.

"Y-...yes."

"Are the rumors true? Is Demos really fighting for the universal championship?"

"Yes."

A few moments of silence set in as Nickles let the answer float into the ether. Dimes leaned against the door to see if he could hear anything. A few seconds go by before Nickles speaks, this time louder and more authoritatively than before.

"He can't win. You need to let me out so I can take control of the body again! You and me made a great team, Dimes! Demos is ruining all of our hard work. He's losing matches left and right, he's losing belts, and he's losing fans. You need to let me out so I can score a home run for our team!"

Charlie Dimes bit his lip as he contemplated the motion.

"I hear what you're saying, playa, but I don't know....last time you had a universal title shot you tried to rape Sarah Lacklan and just played around with her daddy's corpse!"

"I never tried to rape Sarah Lacklan!"

"Yes you did!"

"I was just talking about it to mess with her head! It's psychological warfare!"

"Was it psychological warfare for Connie too, playa?!"

"Listen Dimes, I'm a changed man! The time I've spent in here has totally changed me! I've had time to reflect on all the wrong I've done, on all the people I've hurt.....I just need a chance to redeem myself."

"Listen playa, when Demos gets back I'll talk to him, aight? I think you right. We gotta get you outta here, this is barbaric, mane! No one deserves this kinda torture. I'll talk to Demos, I promise, playa!"

"He wants me dead! He'll never listen! If we're going to win this championship, you need to let me out NOW! Demos is insane, we can't work with him!"

"Well listen here, playa! Dimes is a great wrestla in his own right! It was ME who won the battle royal for a shot at the television belt, remember? It was the king of disco who threw Bourbon, Knucks, Fury, Graves, Green, and the whole shebang over the top rope! It was ME who put the nail in the hammer of TeeKay's championship reign! If there is anyone inside this brain who's championship material, it's yo man in tha bandananananananana!"

A few moments of silence pass before Nickles responds.

"You're right. YOU should face Chris Page, not that communist lard! Let me out of here and I'll help train you. We can spar together, lift together, I can help you become the best version of yourself possible just like you helped me become the best wrestler I could be! We're an unstoppable team! You and I together, we can definitely take over this body and kick out that wannabe Korean! You just have to let me out!"

Dimes considers the proposition. Demos's performance as of late has been lackluster, and Dimes himself had a bit of ring rust. Having Nickles in his corner could really help Dimes out, or so he thought. Charlie Dimes brought his hand up to his chin as he pondered all the possibilities.

"I will help take you to the moon....all you have to do is let me out of here...."

Charlie Dimes thoughtfully stroked his beard before slowly reaching for the door handle. Charlie Dimes placed his hands on the lock slowly. He began to grip the lever of the lock just as Nickles spoke again.

"FINE! FUCK YOU, YOU NEON JACKASS! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS! I'M GOING TO SLIT YOUR THROAT WHILE YOU SLEEP FOR YOUR TREACHERY!"

Nickles started slamming his body against the door again. The doorframe started to shake violently with each and every collision. Dimes took a few hurried steps back before running to the staircase at the end of the hall. The door continued to bang as Nickles tried to force it open.

"I'M GETTING OUT OF HERE AND I'M CUTTING YOUR DICK OFF, DIMES! THIS BODY IS GOING TO BE MINE AND MINE ALONE!"

A warm liquid ran down the man's baggy orange pant leg as Nickles screamed through the door. Charlie Dimes sprinted down the stairs as the scene fades out.