Between revelry and agony, all my nights are the same. When darkness falls, she calls for me. I once shuddered at her horrid whispers, but now, I yearn for those sweet melodies. She speaks of my sacrifices, of my impending conquest. In the dark of the night I float away on her words to a world beyond sight. A standing reminder of my disgrace, her realm is my refuge. When my head hits the pillow I’m only afforded a moment of respite, but never rest. Mae Thmob won’t allow it, she says there is no rest for the wicked.

“Pariah…”

I open my eyes, awakening into a land of pure imagination. Her wicked imagination. Arising within an alcove of trees, I raise my pale hand up under the fragmented moonlight. A smile spreads across my lips as I stroke my bushy beard with merriment. It always feels good to be back in my own skin again, even if only for the moment.

“Pariah, come hither…”

But a pariah’s joy can never last. I march through the marsh of her malice, sloshing through sorrows not yet drowned as I trudge towards her call. Reminders of my past hang from every tree, but I’ve learned to ignore the sounds of their swinging bodies. Still, it’s hard to keep their memories buried when they’re swaying on the vine. I distract myself by focusing on Mae Thmob’s promise, and on my coming glory.

I finally push through the trees, arriving in a small clearing under the moonlight. Waiting for me at a banquet table sits an elderly Cambodian woman, draped in a black nightgown. A feast of flesh is spread across the long table, but she has politely waited to eat until I arrived. Supposedly it tastes better when I watch. Just behind the table stands a wooden leatherworking rack, stretching out the disemboweled skin of some sorry soul.

“Pariah, come sit.”

“As you wish, Mae.”

I take my seat at her table, gripping the chalice in front of me. I swirl the cup around, separating the congealed blood before taking a sip. As I pull the cup away I feel some of the red ichor stuck in my mustache, but I’m not bothered by it. That’s what I call seconds!


“Pariah, put your tongue back in your mouth! All I ask from you is common decency!”

“All you ask from me is everything!”

I snap back, faster than my brain can process. I squirm in my seat, but Mae’s wrinkled face just smiles back at me.

“And oh how eagerly you gave it.”

She gestures towards the leatherworking rack stretching out my skin. She winks at me with a serpentine grin.

“Of course, it will all be worth it, my powerful Pariah.”

“But when, Mae? When will the promise be fulfilled?”

“Today.”

I jump forward in my chair, my chest pounding against the table so hard that it shakes the plates. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, the moment that I’ve forsaken it all for! All I ever wanted from this life was my guaranteed glory, a briefcase to call my own- it’s something I would’ve given anything for. So I gave everything for it. Now, Mae Thmob is redeeming all my sacrifices.

“The X-treme championship will become yours, and then soon, you'll have that pretty little briefcase you seem to covet so much!”

I tremble with excitement, licking my chops in anticipation as I grip my seat for balance.

“Pariah, only one man stands in your way. You must hang the Lord Dionysus from his own vines! Sour his dreams and let his tears salt the earth. His agony shall be the soil from whence your revelry rises!”

“Dionysus is a fool if he thinks his Lordship will be respected on ANARCHY! I will not be stopped by some self-appointed ‘Lord’ with a God’s moniker. The only divinity this Dionysus knows is divine stupidity. If Dionysus were omniscient, then he would know not to risk his golden ticket against me. I will push Dionysus to the limits of his mortality, until he’s begging and pleading for me to strip him of his life’s greatest work. And I will do it all with glee, in the way that only a pariah can.

Revelry and agony are but two sides of the same coin. For far too long Dionysus has been tossed Hardheads, but now, his tale is up. Soon we will see what kind of champion Dionysus really was. How will he handle the X-treme agony when his X-treme revelry is ended? I suspect he’ll fall deeper and deeper into the whine, whispering his discontent into empty bottles- and all he’ll hear back are echoes from the past.

Dionysus dreams of that briefcase, but the memories we make Thursday night will haunt his nightmares forever. He got so close to the precipice, but was pushed off the pedestal by a great unknown. His dreams of glory, snuffed out with low blows and body drops. His body may recover, but his spirit will never forget the pain I bring!

Lords aren’t built to survive ANARCHY. With each and every chairshot, I will chip away at his smug sense of superiority. With each and every Golden Drop, I will bring this hack back down to earth. And with each and every Golden Shower, I will humiliate this one-dimensional fraud for the world to see!

Mae Thmob’s will be done, Dionysus be warned: the Pariah shall claim his promise.”

“Pariah, your time is now…”

Mae snaps her fingers, and when I blink she’s gone. Everything is gone. I awake to my new surroundings before raising my painted hand under the locker room lights. I bring a hand to my chin and feel bare flesh scarred from the past. I grimace in remembrance of what’s been lost, before looking over at the door being swung open for me. A portly production assistant leans their head in.

“Pariah, it’s showtime! They’re ready for the main event!”