Charlie looks down as background music plays out from an unseen speaker. The television champion is seated in a XWF-branded folding chair in front of what appears to be a very dirty garage door. The Nickleman’s championship belt is wrapped around his waist and he is dressed in his usual garb. He starts rolling his hands around each other as he slowly brings his gaze up to the camera.

Tit-for-fuckin’-tat. I hit Mikey with a tit, he hit me with a tat, and now it’s time for me to turn them into a big SPLAT star to finish the dance. Not like that garbage entertainment company, but like the noise a human spleen makes when it’s being chopped up!

That’s how dawgs get down.

Or in Mikey’s case, how dawgs get put down.

But still, you gotta’ give props when a little chahoowiehoowie like Sassafras runs up on the greatest dane of them all. And to Mikey’s credit, he did genuinely get a couple of nips and scratches in last Saturday night!

The Nickleman always gives credit where credit is due- but he also dishes out the righteous comeuppance when it’s owed. And lemme tell you Gravy-boy: your fat mouth owes more than your ass can ever cash. Everyone knows that Mikey’s gravy train is not going to come into the station anytime soon. Or anytime at all, in fact. So how can Mikey pay dues to his betters if he has nothing to pay with? Honestly I’m surprised this son and/or daughter of a bitch even has a contract these days. Since I signed to this company I’ve won 11 XWF, but shit, does anyone know what Micheal/Michelle was doing in that same timeframe?

Well, let’s run through the list. While I was leading a team through war games Micheal Graves was sitting on the couch wearing a replica Demos mask and wishing he was me. While I was main eventing night 3 of relentless after just a handful of matches in the XWF, Micheal Graves was hitting my line and practically offering to suck my dick if I’d agree to share some spotlight with him on Relentless night 2. While I was beating the horsehit out of our universal champion and his bangpiece, Michelle Graves was in the back popping pills and probably fisting her own pussy!

I’ve done a whole lot of winning since I came to this company. But Graves? Not so much. I haven’t seen Gravesamus Prime do anything except a whole lotta’ bitchin’ out. I remember when I was just signed to the XWF and I was supposed to be fighting Bitch-Made Micheal in a fun little match. You see folks, after some locker room back and forth we had come to terms on quite the stipulation: if Micheal were to magically beat me I would have joined BOB, but if a more realistic outcome occurred I would be earning a 24/7 briefcase to use on any BOB championship of my choosing.

That BOB briefcase sure would’ve come in handy, eh? But that match never came to pass. It made it onto a Warfare card: the fans that were paying attention saw the initial advertisements- but Graves pussied out and never showed up to the match. He went and canceled the booking, just to save face and avoid being humiliated by the Nickleman on TV. Mikey really feared a match-up with Charlie because he knew how that shit would play out. He knew his fat mouth was about to cost his buddies their championship gold, and so he pulled the plug on the whole shebang! What a prick.

Charlie shakes his head from side to side with derision before spitting a misty green loogie onto the ground.

But at least the motherfucker knows his limits. He knows he can’t hang with The Nickleman, and by now everyone else should know it too! Seriously, how many times do I have to prove that Mickey-Mouse Graves just isn’t in my league? I got big balls and big fists, that’s why I wrestle with the big boys at the top of the card; Micheal Graves is just a big cunt with a big mouth. That’s a big difference.

I’ve shown the world twice over than the Dark Warrior ain’t shit compared to The Nickleman. The first time we ever met in that ring I threw Mikey and his whole crew of BoBs over the rope and into the dirt en route to a record-setting TV title run. The second time we faced off in that squared circle I beat the ever-living dogshit out of Micheal Graves and XWF legend Barney Green all while Jim Jimson was on my back, trying to slow me down!

So if Graves can’t beat me in a 2 on 1, and he can’t beat me in an 8 on 1, well then how in the ever living fuck is he supposed to beat me in a 1 on 1?! I didn’t go to no fancy pants college but even I can tell you that math doesn’t check out! The equation has already been written, it’s already in the textbooks. Every mathematician knows by now that Charlie Nickles is GREATER THAN Micheal Graves! Even if that transformer could multiply into all three of his forms at once he would STILL get his ass beat. I would just pin him once, her once, and it once and then the game is over!

But fuck….pinning Graves? Isn’t that a bit played out by now? Being the hundredth person to lay on top of the neighborhood whore don’t excite The Nickleman no mo’. I’ve lived that lifestyle already, I’m way past those types of affairs. Besides, the fatcats want this match to be something special. The name Charlie Nickles is becoming a hell of a draw, everytime my name is on the card the people are expecting a hell of a show! If I just went out there and dropped Micheal on his head a few times before pinning him, well, that’s nothing more than a pay-per-view squash match, and who the fuck wants that?

Charlie Nickles shakes his head from side to side.

So nah, lil’ Mikey, we’re not playing this old school. Submissions, pinfalls, knockouts….none of that shit is going to matter next Sunday night. When we meet face to face in the middle of that cold Icelandic winter, we’re not even going to be meeting in a ring! Nope, too played out. Graves has lost dozens upon dozens of matches in the squared circle- we’re finally going to change it up in a major way. Let’s see how Misha’s punk ass does when they’re finally thrown headfirst into MY WORLD.

Grave’s Graveyard Match: that’s how we’re settling this blood feud. Really, it’s the only way to settle the kind of disagreement I have with the walking, talking Gravy-boofer.

It’s a simple match stipulation, so even all of Graves’ deformed and incestuous sister-cousins should be able to follow along with the action on screen. In a Graves Graveyard match two wrestlers are placed in the center of the graveyard alongside a referee. There is, of course, the standard TV division 15-minute time limit. There are no pinfalls, no submissions, and absolutely no rules.

So now you may be sitting there with your thumb up your poop shoot wondering what all happens inside the 15 minutes of a Grave’s Graveyard match. To sum it up for ya, basically Graves is going to be getting hit over the head with tombstones and shovels as he tries desperately to flee the graveyard and reach the XWF safecar parked just outside of the graveyard’s gate.

That’s right, Graves: all you have to do to win this match is escape from a graveyard! And it’s going to be my job to STOP YA’. You’re gonna get fifteen minutes to escape, bubs, but if I have it my way I don’t think you’ll ever be leaving that graveyard again, ya dig? Nah, you probably don’t. BUT I DO! And I’ve got three graves dug already, one for each of this little bitch’s prissy personas. Micheal Graves may think he’s blazing down the highway to hell, but shit, there’s more potholes than asphalt on the road he’s taken! He’s in for a bumpy ride next Sunday night!

Honestly if this Mickey-Mouse actin’ bitch knows what’s good for him he will just just pop his fucking pills, sit his ass in the corner, and let that timer run out when our match starts. He makes any other move in this fight and he’s never going to fucking leave that graveyard, ya hear me? I’ve had enough of this piece of shit sticking his nose in places where it doesn’t belong, now it’s time to put this dementia-riddled malfeasant out of commission for good.

I’When we meet in that graveyard next Sunday night Gravy is going to be trying to take my championship belt: but I’m going to be trying to take Gravy’s life. Let’s see who succeeds.

Charlie sports a sinister smirk as he stares straight into the camera.

You know what they always say: may the better man win…..and trust me, I plan to.

The camera starts slowly fading to black as Charlie smirks confidently. Just as the screen is about to reach pure darkness there is a knocking sound from the opposite side of the garage door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


The screen fully lightens backup and we see that Charlie Nickles is out of his chair and he’s now lifting up the garage door by the handle near to the ground. A few seconds pass as Nickles picks up the garage door just enough to walk beneath it and into the garage proper. As Charlie steps into the garage he lets the door slam shut behind him. We’re left with nothing but a shot of the dingy and beat-up garage door….

Until the screen switches to the feed of a camera sneakily tucked away in the garage by the omnipresent XWF production staff. Inside the garage we see two medical gurneys spaced a few feet away from each other. In one of the gurneys we see the fresh corpse of a local homeless woman. Her skin is cracked and peeling, blood drips down from each of her nostrils. The cadaver has been stripped completely nude and placed beneath a heat lamp.

Charlie unfastens his championship belt and places it gently In the gurney just a few feet away from the corpse. Charlie leans in and gives the championship belt a kiss.

“This will all be over with soon, Goldi, and then you’ll finally be a real woman again!”

“Indeed, Charlie- the time is almost upon us.”

Morbid Angel, dressed in his classic all-black suit, walks into the frame from his position off camera. The book of undeath is held in Morbid’s right hand as he walks around the grisly garage.

“We just have a few final preparations to make and then I can begin the ritual of transcarnation.”

“Transcarnation?”

Charlie raises a curious eyebrow as he steps away from his Goldilocks and towards his newfound shepherd.

“Yes, Transcarnation- the process of reincarnation the dead through transferring their ethereal soul to a new physical vessel.”

Charlie shakes his head from side to side as he places his hands on his waist.

“You know Morbs, the more I learn about necromancy the more I realize I don’t know! It’s good that we have you here to run this little shindig, I’m not sure Goldi and I would be able to work through all this technical wizardry on our own.”

“Oh, Charlie….”

Morbid Angel reaches out and places a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“There’s no way you would understand how to do this spell on your own. That’s exactly why God put me in your path. Now let’s go put the final touches on Goldi so we can begin.”

Charlie and Morbid exchange smiling nods as Morbs walks past Charlie. The twisted angel approaches the championship belt sitting gently on top of a gurney. Morbid Angel pulls a stethoscope out of his suit jacket and puts it on. Morbid places the stethoscope onto the belt’s golden plate and listens for a heartbeat……and he hears nothing.

“This is odd…..”

“Wait, what?”

“Goldi’s lungs are not beating.”

“What do you mean?”

Morbid Angel takes the stethoscope off and slides it back into his suit jacket. He turns around and faces Charlie with a grim expression.

“She’s dead, Charlie. It may be too late…”

“We already established that her heart didn’t beat and that she’s undead, Morbid! Just do the ritual like you promised us!”

“I can’t do that, Charlie. Goldi was undead, their heart didn’t beat but their lungs certainly did. There was an undeniable breath of life in that championship belt, Charlie, animated by your love and compassion…..but it seems that the soul of Goldi has moved on from this realm and passed into the realm of spirits. It’s not wise to try to pull a soul out of the realm beyond- you never know what type of foul spirits might latch onto Goldi to try and be reborn themselves ”

Charlie looked like he was at an absolute loss for words. He frantically looked over to his Goldi, then back to his dark Priest.

“No, no…she’s still here with us! I know she’s been sleeping ever since last Savage, but I thought she was just taking a long nap! She hasn’t said anything since Savage went off the air, are you trying to tell me that she’s dead?!?!”

“Well…yes. That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you, Charlie.”

“No, it can’t be!”

Charlie pushes past Morbid Angel so roughly that he nearly sends the big man to the floor! Morbid lands against the corpse’s gurney and after moving it a few feet he’s able to steady himself. Charlie rushes right up to Goldilocks and collapses to his knees as he stares right at the elevated belt’s golden plates. Tears start to swell in The Nickleman’s eyes as his bottom lip begins to tremble.

“No, no no…Goldi talk to me baby….I know you’re alright….I know you’ve just been napping! Goldi listen to me, Goldi wake up! WAKE UP, baby! Show him he’s wrong! Show him, god damn it! TALK TO ME!”

Charlie quickly rises to his feet as he grabs the championship belt off of the gurney with his right hand. Meanwhile, Charlie uses his left hand to flip the gurney over onto its side. Once the gurney is flipped Charlie begins violently shaking the TV belt up and down.

“WAKE UP, GOLDI! YOU’RE NOT DEAD! YOU CAN’T BE DEAD! COME BACK TO ME!”

Morbid Angel pushes away from the gurney he’s leaning on as he elevates back to a standing position.

“Goldi’s gone, Charlie. They’re gone.”

Charlie looks up at his non-responsive TV belt as the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He clutches the lifeless television belt to his chest as he turns back to face Morbid Angel. Charlie Nickles drops to his knees and holds the TV championship out in front of him. A few tears roll down onto the red leather strap of the belt as Charlie stares down at it.

“How…how could this have happened?! She was fine when I was holding her before the main event! She was merry and cheery and gay!”

“I KNEW IT!”

Charlie either ignores Morbid or does not hear him over the sound of his own loud sobs.

“How….how did this happen?!?! We were in love! God’s not supposed to tear love apart at the straps! I would never have let something like this happen to my Goldi!”

Morbid Angel takes a step towards the ridiculously upset man as he ponders the question deeply.

“I know this may be unlikely…..but has anyone else cast a spell on Goldilocks recently? Sometimes untrained sorcery can overload a vessel and force a spirit into the ether prematurely.”

Charlie sat on the cold concrete floor with a lifeless championship belt in his arms and tears strolling down his bearded face. He tried to fight through the mental anguish and recall the events of the last few weeks…..

Then a lightbulb went off inside The Nickleman’s thick skull.

“Graves…..”

“The Dark Warrior?”

Morbid raised a curious eyebrow.

“GRRRAAAAAAVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


Charlie screamed in torment as he recollected Micheal’s sneak attack on the loving couple after the main event. Charlie recalled how Micheal had twisted the belt’s golden beauty into the shape of a woman. He hadn’t been able to talk to Goldi since that moment.

The Nickleman felt an intense hatred bubbling up inside of him. Charlie hated Graves for taking his Goldi from him, but even more than that, Charlie hated himself for starting a fight that he didn’t finish. Now Goldilocks was paying the price for Charlie’s arrogance and unabashed approach.

Charlie knew this was his fault, and that Graves was at best a proximate cause. Charlie had stirred up trouble where none needed to exist. Charlie had lashed out violently for kicks and giggles, and he had never even considered the kind of blowback this could have….

Charlie hated himself for his selfishness. Charlie knew that if he played with fire he could get burned….but he never thought it was Goldi’s soul that would be burned. He should have known that he was putting Goldi in danger, but still he carried on with his sick and demented ways…

What had happened to The Family Man? The Nickleman quietly contemplated that question for several minutes until his sobbing subsided. Then, he looked back up at Morbid Angel with determination in his eyes.

“Graves is going to pay for this……”

“With his soul- or at least, one of them.”

Morbid Angel reached into his suit jacket once again and pulled out an ornate knife. He handed it down to the seated Nickles.

“What…what’s this?”

“Your only hope of getting Goldi back to the material plane safely.”