X-treme Wrestling Federation

However, our target is starting to lose its luster. Granted, the fact that any amount of time spent smashing up an already decrepit motor vehicle with baseball bats equated to any amount of fun is an astonishing fact. However, my initial childlike giddiness towards destruction has waned slightly, and I've since taken one step back to let the much more experienced vandals take charge. My eyes scan the area around us, looking for anything to validate my sudden overwhelming urge of paranoia.

There's no way 10 minutes of gratuitous car smashing wouldn't cause someone to get suspicious. It isn't like we're being quiet about it.


Instead, I find the typical scene of this run down part of good ol' East St. Louis. Nothing. No one. Just rundown, red brick buildings as far as the eye can see, and the helpful glow of some liquor store's neon sign. I still want to smash that thing to pieces, but my appetite for destruction has been quelled slightly, but not enough as to completely dull that personal revenge fantasy. Luckily for us, it's open with no customers and a guy on the register who, were he to have a mask and bat on him, would probably jump in and join us or something.

I look back, through the giant display window of the store to find said cashier asleep on the job. How, with all the racket occurring practically right outside of the building he's in, is beyond me and yet I find myself oddly comforted by this revelation, as if a weight has rolled off my shoulders and collapsed onto the ground.

"You okay?" In the darkness and her hushed whisper, as if she thought someone would be alerted by that over the clanging of metal against metal, Kara loses a lot of her-- I don't know if intensity is the best word for it, but a lot of what makes her somewhat intimidating. Unsure of how to perceive that shift, I loosen my grip on the handle of the baseball bat and lower it, smiling at her knowing her obliviousness to any real facial expression in this lack of light.

"Just fine, darling," I respond in a stereotypically over formal English accent, making the slight tinge of Anglican ancestry that normally bleeds into my vocal pattern appear to be as flat as a standard Midwestern accent.

"What the fuck?" Jacob; who appears to have usurped the role of Only Sane Person from right under my nose asks, cuts Kara off before she can even start to speak. This is the first time I've ever noticed such a happening that wasn't immediately followed by him apologizing profusely to her. Either he's grown a set of testicles or more likely, he didn't see that she was starting to say something.

"What?" I ask, keeping the accent as gratingly stereotypical as possible. Jacob takes one look my way, and turns back to the car; swinging the bat right at the windshield. It cracks in a spiderweb pattern, wavering out as the distance from the site of impact increases.

"Woah. Calm down, Vehicle Destroyer."

"What's up with the voice?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Ugh."

"I think we fucked this one up enough," says Kara, as she takes the bat to the tire nearest her. "We should get a move on."

"Where to?" I ask, allowing my voice to come back its normal tone. Pulling the bat up from inches above the ground where I let it dangle and slinging it over my shoulder, I scan the area around us once more for anything watching us and come up with the same results as last time. Good.

We should probably head back home."

"Are you kidding?" I'm enjoying this way too much.

"No, it's getting late and I don't wanna be here when the owner of this thing comes out."

"True."

"I'll drive," Jacob says, making his way past Kara and I, towards the alleyway that we exited from on the way to where she decided to park. Looking around one last time, I pull off the mask and crumple it up into a ball small enough to fit inside my closed left fist without sticking through between my fingers. Content, I toss the bat up in the air and catch it by the barrel before taking off after Kara and Jacob as not to be left in this neighborhood once the lights of revelation shine on our actions.



"Jacob and I fucked on your bed. A lot."

That's the first thing I'm greeted to as soon as I walk in the door. I'm not even given the luxury of dropping my bags on the floor and crashing on the couch before I'm confronted with Kara recounting every fucked up thing she's done to my stuff since I've been travelling. So, in order to hopefully delay her barrage, I say nothing and drop my bag on a pair of her shoes and trust fall onto the couch and more specifically, her lap. She isn't a very trust worthy person and doesn't catch me, causing me to land shoulder blades first on her crotch.

"Kinky," I say as she, surprised to say the least, tries to catch her breath.

"There was a spider; I smashed it with your copy of Catcher in the Rye."

"Oh no! My ability to read about a teenager complain about how lame he is will forever be impaired!"

I shoot a snide smirk up at her, which causes her to roll her eyes and stare off at the wall, trying to think of something else she did.

"I let your goldfish die."

"That thing died like, three years ago."

"Oh, shit. Really?"

I nod.

"And you never told me?"

"I thought it was fairly obvious."

"You thought wrong!" she shouts with a pouting face. I sigh and shake my head.

"I fucking hate you."

Just like that, her face shifts. A wide grin. "Knew you were in there somewhere!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

"Jeez, someone's pissy."

"Yeah, jet lag will do that to a person."

"You gotta let me come with you to one of the shows sometime."

Color me surprised.

"I thought you didn't like wrestling."

"Meh, it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

"And by that you mean there's someone you think is hot isn't the-"

"That Tommy Gunn guy."

"That-- actually doesn't surprise me."

"Of course not. Guy's hot as fuck."

"Meh."

"Yeah, get off me." And with that, she pushes me off her lap, sending me cascading down to the carpeted floor of doom below. I assume a mushroom cloud of dust will greet me, seeing as though neither of us had vacuumed in like a year. Maybe she did while I was--

I actually start laughing at that thought right before I hit the ground and am proven right. A mini mushroom cloud of dust did explode up from the carpet and into the air. Moreso than that however, a lot of said mushroom cloud was blocked by my face and now I have a mask made out of things stuck in the carpet from months ago.


"I'm serious too; I did fuck Jacob on your bed. He came all over your pillows."


I push myself up off the ground and cough a few times, catching saliva coated pieces of hair and dust in my hand and rubbing them off on the leg of my jeans before turning to Kara and saying, in the sweetest, most innocent voice I can muster:

"I masturbated to that fantasy in my hotel room once or three times."

"You win."

"As if there was any doubt. Anyway, you wanna go to a show?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I could probably get you a ticket to this upcoming one. We could room together; it'll be great fun."

"I dunno, I got work-- yeah fuck that I'm in. I can call in for that shit; tell them I'm on Easter holiday or something. People still celebrate Easter, right?"

"Wrong person to ask."

"Right. When does your flight leave?"

"Tomorrow," I say, mimicking the way she told me about my interview; which kinda jumpstarted the fast track to this profession. It only seems fitting, after all.

"Real clever. I didn't wash your pillowcases by the way."

"Good," I say, turning towards my bedroom. Out the corner of my eye, I can see just how disgusted she looks right now.