X-treme Wrestling Federation

Entry 6

I got to Pittsburgh okay. I still don't have a proper place to live, but I followed the wabbit tracks. I was watching Elmer Fudd in the hotel room. Apparently he's some world renowned hunter that's always after some rabbit. I'm not sure who the protagonist would be in the short films. They always seem to start with the hunter but end with the prey... Poor guy. Outsmarted by rodent. Sorry for writing about a cartoon, but I've seriously had NO ONE to talk to for like a day and a half... Except for that phone call.

I listened to what that guy told me and just flew there like a normal person. Kinda bullshit I paid for it, but maybe the XWF are the ones that left the money. Kind of a predium.

This city's a lot different from the last one. Kinda flithy.


Entry 7

I found the arena I'm supposed to be at Monday night. I'm supposed to fight? Who the hell am I fighting?

I stared at it on the way by... Kinda scoping it out. I'm not sure why, but I didn't see any signs or posters advertising any XWF events coming there.

I don't know what to think. Is this all just a big joke?


Entry 8

The tracphone works!

I called an ordered a pizza tonight from some jackassy place at two in the morning. Let me tell you, don't ever do that...

After realizing the tracphone worked, I text the number that called me previously. That Sayors guy. Some of this shit is apparently coming back to me. Then again, I don't even know if I owned a phone in the first place... I'm a fucking cavemen.

I text him that I was in the area and where I was staying. He replied that he'd be around. I said, "Fuck it, let's get it over with!"

"I'll be over later in the evening then. Say, seven o'clock?"

"Whatever you want man. Who am I even... rasslin?"

"Buster Mac."

"Buster Mac?"

"Um. ..."

"....."

"Yes. Buster Mac."

"Well what the fuck do I do?"

"I suppose....."

"You're a fucking toolbag. Fuck you and and your mouth."

I was pissed off. I closed the phone and was going to whip it to the ground. Something stopped me though. There's answers out there somewhere. Just because this guy couldn't give me any doesn't mean someone else can't. I was determined to get to the bottom of... well... me.

My phone started ringing again so I answered it.

"Listen we HAVE to to do this interview."

"And why is that?"

"Because you need publicity if you're going to make it anywhere here. If you want answers, you're right, you won't find them with me but I'm sure you'll find them eventually."

"You're just a dickhead reporter man."

"It'll help you in your match." I was just about to hang up.

"What do you mean by that? How will an interview help me in my match?"

"Well,like I said. Publicity. Any publicity is good publicity. Take it from me."

I suppose if I want to figure shit out, the best way to do it is follow the fucking bread crumbs. I agreed to the interview, again.


Entry 9

You know, this isn't so bad.

I met up with that Sayor's guy and he acted like I was his best friend in the whole fucking world. And told me several times as well. But the interview wasn't so bad. I learned a lot about my opponent.

Mac.. And he was picking on my name?

Eh.. So yeah. I watched a few minutes of his things... It really doesn't seem like he knows how to approach me........ Well, for an ex-cop that's a pretty poor quality. Sayors and I actually laughed for a few minutes here in there as the interview went on...

"Ha! HA! And Gator is actually dressed like Deadpool, not Spiderman. Ha! Ha!" Sayors laughed aloud ridiculously.

"Hehehe. Who's Spiderman?" I replied to his laughter.

"Nevermind. So, rookie versus rookie. What do you think?"

"What do you mean, 'What do I think?' The guy's an ex-cop running from his past hiding in some weird ass wrestling federation..."

I stopped myself. I'm kinda in the same boat as him. We both have a purpose here. He's hiding something and I'm looking for something. I doubt this has any answers that I need though.

"Hey man, forget about the 'Dead' part in my name if it bothers you that much. I'm not really dead. I almost was. Or I was for a little while.. I don't really know. But you could just call me NICK if you'd like. It's really not a big deal."

I talked to the little camera in front of me like that stupid bastard was standing there looking at me. I stopped myself again realizing the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. Sayors nudged me and nodded towards the camera. Apparently signal to keep going.

"Listen I know you're probably all excited for your debut match and all, but I have some bad news for ya man. This shit belongs to me. Sorry about your luck. I'm not sure why I'm here or whether you're part of this whole mess or not. But I'm finding out what the fuck is going on, one way or another. If it takes me putting on the gloves and----"

"Boxing. MMA.."

"What?"

Yes, the fucker interupted me. Apparently you don't necessarily wear gloves in this ... sport.

"If it takes me... putting .... on some boots and kicking your ass across the ring... Yeah. I'll take on anybody. Fightings like riding a bike, ya know? When you first start out, you fall down a lot, but you get usd to it after a while. Well, I'm not sure if I've ever ridden a bike..."

I look at Sayors. I feel like a jackass.

"What are your future plans in the XWF, Nick? You have you eyes on any key opponents in the future?"

"No."

I've had enough of this shit.

"There seems to be battles for titles every single week on either Madness or Warfare, are you interested in chasing any titles at the moment?"

"No."

I don't see any titles being defended on the show I'm on. I don't feel like such a jackass anymore.

He asked a few more dumb questions. I requested the interview to be over twice before I left. They can work with what the fuck we got. Jackass.


Entry 10

I couldn't get this fucking match out of my head.... That fucking Sayors-guy, what a dick. My opponent rambles on and on as if he knows something. Like, he knows me. I don't even know me.

Buster Mac. What the fuck are you on dude? You know absolutely nothing about me. None of you dickholes do.

No, I have no idea why I'm enlisted into the XWF. Do you know why I don't? Because I was in a fucking coma, dude.

Do I want you to feel sorry for me? I don't really give a fuck if you do or not, but as a human being like yourself maybe you should. I mean, holy shit dude, have SOME empathy, ya know?

I'll tell ya what man. You seem like a cool dude and all. But, I'm not sure if this is right for you...

I mean.

You're doing the ranting and all. Making me feel worse about myself and worthless. Like how I write in my journal. Come on dude. Show your newb face and attack my jumblies.

Tell ya what. Since we've just started the first grade here I'll give you a lesson in grammar. First of all. I don't see anything wrong with what I said.

Maybe you people talk different from we people.

Durp.

If anything I should have said, "I just woke up from a several month long coma." I was just trying to be a little mystique about it.

It's not a journal by they way, dickweed. It's more of a memoire. My train of thought goes in here in case I derail and fuck someone's face up.

Just kidding. I wouldn't do that to someone. But it's a PRIVATE place where I can go to reach down grab my nuts and make you wish you never crossed me.

One thing you have to understand, Mack Truck, is I'm on a mission here, pal. You're right, dead center in the middle. Not really an obstacle but... I dunno.... You're just there. Talking stupid shit about my condition, my name, how I'm alive... Of course I'm alive you dummy.

Did you think you were fighting some kind of monster?






Maybe you did.





Don't be afraid, I'm no monster. Not at all. I'm just desperate for an answer and if it takes me ripping your face off.... I might just do that. I'm still not EXACTLY sure how things work around here... but I'm pretty sure if I make curtains out of you I'll certainly be praised for doing so.



Entry 11

I'm worn, the fuck, out.